I think Byron's freak was outdone by that of a cousin of my own, who once
solemnly assured me that he had a spittoon made out of the skull of his
enemy. The ancient coffin in which the goblet-skull was found was shown
us in the basement of the Abbey.
There was much more to see in the house than I had any previous notion
of; but except the two chambers already noticed, nothing remained the
least as Byron left it. Yes, another place there was,--his own small
dining-room, with a table of moderate size, where, no doubt, the
skull-goblet has often gone its rounds. Colonel Wildman's dining-room
was once Byron's shooting-gallery, and the original refectory of the
monks. It is now magnificently arranged, with a vaulted roof, a
music-gallery at one end, suits of armor and weapons on the walls, and
mailed arms extended, holding candelabras. There are one or two painted
windows, commemorative of the Peninsular war, and the battles in which
the Colonel and his two brothers fought,--for these Wildmen seem to
have been mighty troopers, and Colonel Wildman is represented as a
fierce-looking mustachioed hussar at two different ages. The housekeeper
spoke of him affectionately, but says that he is now getting into years,
and that they fancy him failing. He has no children. He appears to have
been on good terms with Byron, and had the latter ever returned to
England, he was under promise to make his first visit to his old home,
and it was in such an expectation that Colonel Wildman had kept Byron's
private apartments in the same condition in which he found them.
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