316

ANTIQUITY OF DRESSING WELLS WITH FLOWERS.

and wells were situated, the common people were accustomed to honour them with the titles of saints. In our own country, innumerable instances occur of wells being so denominated. "Where a spring rises or a river flows," says Seneca, “there should we build altars and offer sacrifices." At the Fountain of Arethusa in Syracuse, a place that every reader of poetry and history has often heard of, great festivals were celebrated every year. In Roman antiquity, the Fontinalia were religious feasts, held in honour of the nymphs of wells and fountains: the ceremony consisted in throwing nosegays into fountains, and putting crowns of flowers upon wells. Many authorities might be quoted in support of the antiquity of this elegant custom, which had its origin anterior to the introduction of Christianity. It was mingled with the rites and ceremonies of the Heathens, who were accustomed to worship streams and fountains, and to suppose that the nymphs, whom they imagined the goddesses of the waters, presided over them. Shaw, in his History of the Province of Morray," observes, that "Heathenish customs were much practised amongst the people there; and he cites as an instance "that they performed pilgrimages to wells, and built chapels in honour of their fountains." From this ancient usage, which has been continued through a long succession of ages, and is still in existence at Tissington, arose the practice of sprinkling the Severn and the rivers of Wales with flowers, as alluded to by Dyer in his poem of the FLEECE, and by Milton in his COM US,

66

with light fantastic toe the nymphs
Thither assembled, thither every swain;
And o'er the dimpled stream a thousand flowers,
Pale lillies, roses, violets, and pinks,

Mix'd with the green of burnet, mint, and thyme,
And trefoil, sprinkled with their sportive arms :
Such custom holds along th' irriguous vales,
From Wreakin's brow to rocky Dolvoryn."

"The shepherds at their festivals

Carol her good deeds loud in rustic lays,

And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream,
Of pancies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils."

DYER.

MILTON.

We were now about four miles from Ashbourne, and within two of Dove Dale; but it was nearly dark, and as it was not

VICINITY OF DOVE DALE."

317

our object to visit Ashbourne, and return four or five miles from thence on the following morning, we enquired at a small public-house by the road-side if accommodations for the night could not be obtained nearer the dale, when we were told, that a mile or two farther, across some fields and down a narrow lane, we should find as good accommodations as any gentleman could wish; and if we did not choose to stop there, we might go on to Mappleton. This exhilirating intelligence gave an elastic impulse to our almost jaded spirits, and we pursued with alacrity the path pointed out to us, until the night became so totally dark that we literally groped our way to the Dog and Partridge, a small public-house, well known by all who visit Dove Dale. We reconnoitred the place, and soon concluded to proceed farther. We observed in the house four or five men sitting over a solitary farthing candle, around a few almost extinct embers in the grate, which cast a feeble light upon their pallid faces, and imperfectly exhibited a group of figures, better suited for the pencil of Salvator than of either Tenniers or Ostade.

Mappleton was the place we were next directed to; but being strangers to the road, which lay partly through open fields, and our obtaining lodgings for three tired pedestrians in a small village being uncertain, we proceeded a few miles farther to Ashbourne. As we descended the hill into the town all was still as midnight, save where in passing we disturbed the watch-dog in his sleep, and were accosted with his growlings.

There is hardly any silence more solemn and profound than that which pervades a country town at midnight. In the fields the sighing of the winds is heard amongst the branches; whenever the breeze stirs the very quiver of the leaves is audible, and there is a voice in every grove and thicket. Sometimes the low of cattle, the twitter of a lone bird among the bushes, or the purling of a stream, breaks the stillness of the night, even where the dwellings of men are few and far apart; but in the midst of a throng of houses, the habitations of beings like ourselves, the idea of silence is alien to the feeling that prevails, and the mind being sometimes more powerfully influenced by associations than actual existences, the stillness of a town is more awful and impressive than the stillness of the country. Ashbourne, when we entered it, seemed to be nearly deserted; not an inn door was invitingly open to receive us, and no lights were to be seen, except here

318

MIDNIGHT AT ASHBOURNE.

and there a solitary bed-candle twinkling through the windows
of the upper apartments, and lighting the inhabitants to rest.
We however obtained lodgings at a tolerably good inn near
the middle of the town, and recruited our jaded spirits over a
short but hearty supper.
We then retired to our separate
apartments, and reposed our weary limbs, but not on beds of
down, for we needed not such a luxury to make sleep sweet
and refreshing.

"Why rather, sleep, ly'st thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with busy nightflies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?"

SHAKESPEARE.

SECTION VI.

Ashbourne Church. Monument by Banks. -Walk to Dove Dale.-View of the Dale from the Descent near Thorpe Cloud. Character of the River Dove. -Dove Dale Church. -Reynard's Cave.-Fatal Occurrence there.-View from this part of the Dale.-The narrow Pass.-Retrospect of the Character of the whole Dale.- Rocky Portals, and the Meadows beyond.— Rosseau, and his Visit to the Vicinity of Dove Dale.

REFERRING my readers to the first section of this excursion, they will observe that it was undertaken in the month of May. Passing from Matlock through Via Gellia to Hopton, I recurred to a former journey made in the second week of September, to which the whole of the subsequent detail refers. It was at this season of the year when we spent the night at Ashbourne: the following morning, previously to our departure for Dove Dale, we walked through the principal streets, and paid a visit to the church. The town is pleasantly situated in a very beautiful country; high hills shelter it from the cold winds of the north, and towards the south it looks upon a fine open valley, richly cultivated, through which the River Dove meanders amongst some of the most fertile meadows in the kingdom. The church was built about the middle of the thirteenth century, and is an excellent specimen of gothic architecture. It is in the form of a cross, with a square tower in the centre, from which a lofty and elegantly ornamented spire arises. The interior is light and spacious, and the pillars that support the roof are strong and massy. These, in several places, have been strangely defaced, and partly cut away, that some unmeaning monumental tablets might conveniently be put against them. It is a pity that the churchwardens who suffered such a mutilation as this to take place, were not made to do penance for their neglect of duty. There is a beautiful little monument in this church, from the chisel of Banks, which for execution, design, and feeling, would do

320

MONUMENT IN ASHBOURNE CHURCH.

credit to the talents of any artist. It is to the memory of the only child of Sir Brooke Boothby, a daughter, who died at the age of five years and eleven months. On a marble pedestal, a mattress, sculptured from the same material, is laid; on this the child reposes, but apparently not in quiet; her head reclines on a pillow, but the disposition of the whole figure indicates restlessness. The little sufferer, indeed, appears as if she had just changed her position by one of those frequent turnings to which illness often in vain resorts for relief from pain. The inscription on the tablet below enforces this feeling :

"I was not in safety, neither had I rest, and the trouble came." The pedestal below is inscribed—

To PENELOPE,

Only child of Sir Brooke Boothby, and Dame Susannah Boothby,
Born, April 11th, 1785.-Died, March 13th, 1791.
She was in form and intellect most exquisite.

The unfortunate parents ventured their all on this frail bark, and the wreck was total.

It is impossible to hang over the beautiful image which the artist has here sculptured forth, and peruse the simple but affecting inscriptions that are scattered around it, without sympathising with the afflicted parents who had " ventured their all of happiness on this frail bark," and found "the wreck was total." This monumental design, which is exquisitely finished, and full of tender feeling, probably suggested to Chantrey the execution of that master-piece of art, the group of the Two Children, now the grace and ornament of Litchfield Cathedral, and the boast of modern sculpture.

We left Ashbourne by the same road we had travelled over the preceding evening; and after a walk of about two miles, we beheld at a short distance on our left, the airy summit of Thorp Cloud, which, instead of looking like a huge mountain, as we had expected, had only the appearance of a moderate-sized hill. Some richly-cultivated meadows, bounded by high hawthorn hedges, and a deep dale beyond, lay between us and this lofty eminence; we were therefore strangely deceived both in the dimensions of its base, and the altitude of its summit. Proceeding onwards, the peak of Thorp Cloud again disappeared, and we shortly afterwards came to the Dog and Partridge, the public-house which we had passed