common with many other estates in and
around Derbyshire, was given the manor of Haddon. Part of the fabric
which was then erected is still standing, and it is surmised by some
that traces are still left of a previous Saxon erection. In the year
1154, the estate was forfeited to the Crown, and it was granted by
King Henry II. to the Avenals, from which family, two hundred years
later, it was transferred by marriage to the Vernons.

Its fate has been strangely wrapped up in the history of its women,
for as it passed from the Avenals to the Vernons by marriage, so
again, three centuries later, by a similar process, it passed from the
Vernon family to the Rutland, which ever since has retained it in its
possession.

Everything around, both inside and out, is fragrant with interest.
Everything seems to breathe out the spirit of departed ages. It is one
vast relic of "Merrie England's" bygone splendour.

It was the old original "Palace of the Peak," nor was it unworthy of
the name. The glory of many royal palaces of its time indeed might
well have paled beside its splendour, and as a matter of fact the
baron of Haddon was a king within his own domain, who wielded a
power which few around dared to question, and fewer still resist. Its
hospitality was lavish, as the poor of a neighbourhood of no small
radius knew full well; and the vastness and riches of the property
which accompanied the ownership of Haddon was enough to maintain its
lord in an almost regal state.

What happy scenes have taken place within its walls! How many fair
ladies have stepped off the riding stone outside its gate, helped by
the gallant but superfluous aid of chivalrous knights, each striving
to outdo the others by gentle acts of courtesy! What brilliant
cavalcades have issued from its portals! How many merry hunting
parties have started from its iron-studded gate; and what jovial
monster feasts have taken place within its rooms. If walls could
speak, what a tale would Haddon have to tell.

The spring of the year of grace 1567 had just commenced, and the trees
were beginning to adorn themselves once again in their green array,
when the Knight of Haddon, Sir George Vernon, led out a merry company
for the first hawking expedition of the year. The winter had been
unusually long, and more than extraordinarily severe; and whilst the
knight and his sturdy friends had been enabled to pursue their sport
by submitting to a more than usual amount of inconve