William Henry Hunt was once dismissed as a ‘neglected figure among English water-colourist’, however, his dedication to precision in his still-life paintings forms an incredibly valuable archival record. Such was his devotion to truth and accurate observation that he refused to paint from imagination.
F. G. Stephens, an early biographer, shared a telling anecdote about Hunt, recounting how he ‘even borrowed a pin to draw from rather than to do it from “feeling”’. From this, we can imagine Hunt’s watercolour view of the Library as if it were a photograph, documenting the furnishings and their details accurately. For historians attempting to reconstruct historical interiors or to locate furniture, Hunt’s watercolour serves as an indispensable source. Visual documentation like this provides clarity that traditional written inventories, compiled for entirely different purposes, simply cannot provide.
The 1829 Transformation
‘These Designs are formed on the Principle of adhering to the Character of the present building, of gaining all the required advantages and adding to the grandeur of the place’.
– Sir Jeffry Wyatt, Workbook.
What began as the 6th Duke’s personal project, undertaken without architectural consultation, would eventually transform the Library entirely. All but the ceiling, painted by Antonio Verrio, and the cornices, architrave and chimney-piece, carved by Naduald, would be altered: a dramatic change documented by Hunt’s watercolour.
An excerpt from the Duke’s Handbook reveals the ambitious yet precarious initial beginnings of this project: ‘In 1815 I began to pull out the panels and convert them into bookcases, by doing which I not only endangered the security of the walls, but approached certain flues much too nearly’.
As the 6th Duke’s vision for the library grew bigger alongside growing his book collection, he recognised that his aspirations had outgrown his own capabilities. In 1829, he wisely employed the professional expertise of architect Sir Jeffry Wyatville to realise his grand new library.
Presented above is one of Wyatville’s original architectural plans for the Library, his intentions clearly annotated in precise detail, they read: ‘The bookcase to be made of Spanish Mahogany and to be made in London. 4 lock up Bookcases with Mate Glass Doors – as colourful blue. The Old Parquetting floors from the Queen of Scotts Rooms to be used here for a boarder [sic]’.
Wyatville’s plans are a remarkable asset to the Devonshire Collection. They show not only the technical drawings of the planned reconstruction, but the materials intended to be used, where the new fixtures were to be made, and where other elements of the house would be brought in to be reused.
Wyatville’s 1829 transformation proved dramatic. He removed panels painted by Louis Chéron between the pilasters and fireplace, replacing the decorative scheme with floor-to-ceiling bookcases that maximised the rooms’ storage capacity.
An existing spiral staircase at the south end of the room, concealed by a jib-door, originally provided access to the upper shelves of the gallery. In the 1950s, Duchess Deborah (née Mitford) had this stair converted into a lift, and she opened another door at the north end of the room.
From the ante-library, looking into the library, this northern stair appears to the left and is likewise concealed by a bookcase jib-door; however, this door displays spines of books featuring witty puns relating to the family.
Moreover, Wyatville proposed altering the exterior architecture of the room; however, the Duke dismissed this suggestion. His reasoning, preserved in his Handbook, captures how he was torn between functionality and aesthetic integrity: ‘For the books the room is now well-suited; it is only too narrow, and Sir Jeffry Wyatville’s plan for a projection opposite the fireplace, taking in two windows, would have been a great improvement, but I disliked the appearance it would have had outside’.
This architectural plan view shows Wyatville’s gallery landing. An addition that created an upper floor architecture to the library. No longer, a sprawling gallery or ballroom, this space merged as a thoroughly functional library, designed to receive the most distinguished intellectual company while showcasing the Duke’s extensive collection and refined cultural sensibilities.
The transformation represents a social shift in the very concept of what a library should be. In the 17th century, libraries served a more intimate purpose as closets for private study or devotion, simple sanctuaries where scholars sought solitude. Wyatville’s design, by contrast, created a theatrical stage for learning, where knowledge became performance, and books were transformed into symbols of social status.
Since the 6th Duke’s alterations of the room, over the centuries, little has changed. Scroll through these historical photographs to view the room over time.
The Duke’s passion for books extended far beyond Chatsworth and trickled into his other estates. At Hardwick Hall, he undertook a similar transformation, bringing in architectural fixtures no longer required at Chatsworth: ‘I was driven into habitation of it by a vain attempt we made to pass some evenings in the Long Gallery: although surrounded by screens, and sheltered by red baize curtains, the cold frosty East wind got the better of us, and we took refuge here; then, finding it so very comfortable a room, I put up the rejected bookcases from the Den at Chatsworth, adding a few pictures not wanted in the Gallery, and, with the innovation of four clear panes of glass in the old casements, made darkness visible’.
This house was the 6th Duke’s final resting place.
