The Extent Of My Journey I Had Now Resolved Should Be The Great
Cavern Near Castleton, In The High Peak Of Derbyshire.
It was about
twenty miles beyond Matlock.
The country here had quite a different appearance from that at
Windsor and Richmond. Instead of green meadows and pleasant hills,
I now saw barren mountains and lofty rocks; instead of fine living
hedges, the fields and pasture lands here were fenced with a wall of
grey stone; and of this very same stone, which is here everywhere to
be found in plenty, all the houses are built in a very uniform and
patriarchal manner, inasmuch as the rough stones are almost without
any preparation placed one upon another, and compose four walls, so
that in case of necessity, a man might here without much trouble
build himself a house. At Derby the houses seem to be built of the
same stone.
The situation of Matlock itself surpassed every idea I had formed of
it. On the right were some elegant houses for the bathing company,
and lesser cottages suspended like birds' nests in a high rock; to
the left, deep in the bottom, there was a fine bold river, which was
almost hid from the eye by a majestic arch formed by high trees,
which hung over it. A prodigious stone wall extended itself above a
mile along its border, and all along there is a singularly romantic
and beautiful secret walk, sheltered and adorned by many beautiful
shrubs.
The steep rock was covered at the top with green bushes, and now and
then a sheep, or a cow, separated from the grazing flock, came to
the edge of the precipice, and peeped over it.
I have got, in Milton's "Paradise Lost," which I am reading
thoroughly through, just to the part where he describes Paradise,
when I arrived here and the following passage, which I read at the
brink of the river, had a most striking and pleasing effect on me.
The landscape here described was as exactly similar to that I saw
before me, as if the poet had taken it from hence
" - delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champion head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,
Access denied." - Book IV. v. 132.
From Matlock Baths you go over Matlock Bridge, to the little town of
Matlock itself, which, in reality, scarcely deserves the name of a
village, as it consists of but a few and miserable houses. There is
here, on account of the baths, a number of horses and carriages, and
a great thoroughfare. From hence I came through some villages to a
small town of the name of Bakewell. The whole country in this part
is hilly and romantic. Often my way led me, by small passes, over
astonishing eminences, where, in the deep below me, I saw a few huts
or cottages lying. The fencing of the fields with grey stone gave
the whole a wild and not very promising appearance.
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