326

ROCKY PORTALS OF DOVE Dale.

The entrance into the dale, from the side of Thorpe Cloud, is an appropriate introduction to the beauties that succeed: proceeding onwards, the forms become more romantic, the foliage thickens; and the rocks assume a greater portion of grandeur, every step varies the scene, but the same bold impress is upon the whole. Some of the rocks are peculiar, perhaps fantastic; yet accompanied, as they are, with a variety of beautiful foliage, hung with ivy, and chequered with lichens, they are not only interesting, but even picturesque objects; and, where they call to mind the forms of things to which they have but a remote resemblance, they do it so imperfectly, that the imagination is amused in supplying the deficiencies. The whole scenery indeed of this dale, from the southern to the northern extremity, improves at every step, until it reaches the very place where I have paused to retrace its character, and it terminates with one of its sublimest features. A mighty pillar of insulated rock, which has its base in the stream, rises from the left bank of the river; a bold mass of rock, whose conical summit penetrates the clouds, occupies the right: between these huge portals flows the river Dove. Through this contracted space, some flat meadows, clothed with verdure, appear; and still farther in distance, bold swelling hills close in the prospect. The effect of this scene is truly magical: it is an interesting transition from one description of landscape to another, that excites surprise by its suddenness, and charms with its beauty. Through this magnificent portal we passed into the lovely meadows beyond, where we stood a while to gaze upon the gloomy ravine we had just left. We then sat down amongst a grove of hazels in a sweet little vale, as dissimilar in character to the scenery of Dove Dale as if they had been hundreds of miles apart. The river flowed gently and beautifully before us, the cattle were grazing in the meadows, apparently unconscious of the presence of any human being,the red-breast poured his lone requiem from amongst the bushes that were scattered over the rising ground where we and the rush of the waters through the narrow part of the dale came softly upon the ear, which was soothed with its murmurs. The scene was delightfully tranquil, and the mind, that only a few minutes before had been excited to emotions of sublimity and terror, sunk into a state of pleasing repose and luxurious languor.

sat,

Dove Dale was one of the favourite resorts of the enthu

ROUSSEAU IN DERBYSHIRE.

327

siastic and sensitive Rousseau during his residence in its immediate vicinity, and he is said to have planted many rare and curious seeds in this sequestered spot. At this time he lived chiefly at Wooton Hall, a retreat that was procured for. him principally through the influence of the historian Hume. Rousseau lived in continual agitation and alarm. Plots and conspiracies, he supposed, were entered into and carried on against his personal safety and happiness in every country on the continent of Europe, and he sought an asylum in England from the imagined persecutions of imaginary enemies. In April, 1766, when Rousseau had just settled in Derbyshire," Here," says he, "I have arrived at last at an agreeable and sequestered asylum, where I hope to breathe freely and at peace." But here he did not long remain "at peace;" he soon found cause of quarrel with those who were endeavouring to serve him, and in the month of April following he quitted his "agreeable and sequestered asylum," and returned to the Continent, heaping reproaches on his best friends. He was an unamiable, petulant, and angry man. The rent of the house in which he lived had been greatly reduced, to allure him into the country; his spirit revolted at this, and as soon as he heard of it he indignantly left the place. Whilst at Wooton Hall, he received a present of some bottles of choice foreign wine; this was a gift, and his pride would not permit him to taste it; he therefore left it in the house untouched, for the next comer. For some reason or other, or more probably for none, he had determined not to see Dr. Darwin. The Doctor, aware of his objections, placed himself on a terrace where Rousseau had to pass, and was examining a plant. "Rousseau," said he, are you a botanist?" They entered into conversation, and were intimate at once; but Rousseau, on reflection, imagined that this meeting was the result of contrivance, and the intimacy proceeded no farther. It was indeed impossible for any body to be on terms of friendship long with the eccentric and ill-humoured Jean Jacques Rousseau. Madame de Stäel, in her reflections on this strange man and his writings, has admirably depicted his character. "His faculties," she observes, were slow in their operation, but his heart was ardent: it was in consequence of his own meditations that he became impassioned: he discovered no sudden emotion, but all his feelings grew upon reflection. Sometimes he would part with with all his former affection; but if an expres

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328

RETURN FROM DOVE DALE TO HOPTON.

sion had escaped you which might bear an unfavourable construction, he would recollect it, examine it, perhaps dwell upon it for a month, and conclude by a total breach with you. Hence it was that there was scarcely a possibility of undeceiving him, for the light which broke in upon him at once was not sufficient to efface the wrong impressions which had taken place so gradually in his mind: a word, a gesture, furnished him with matter of profound meditation; he connected the most trifling circumstances like so many mathematical propositions, and conceived his conclusions to be supported by the evidence of demonstration."

From the meadows, where we awhile reposed, we pursued the course of the Dove nearly two miles farther, through a deep vale, barren of wood, and, with one or two exceptions, devoid of beauty. We then left the margin of the stream, crossed the hills to the Ashbourne and Buxton road; and, leaving Tissington on our right, returned, by the way of Bradburn, to Hopton, and from thence to Wirksworth.

SECTION VII.

Visit to Ilam. - Vale of Ilam. - Ilam Hall, - interesting Apartment there. - Village Church. - Chantrey's Monument for the New Chapel. - Observations on Monumental Sculpture. Ancient Stone Cross in Ilam. View in Ilam Vale after a Rain-storm. Congreve's Grotto. - Morning Scene. -The rivers Hamps and Manyfold. - Contemplated Improvements at Ilam. Second Visit to Ilam.. The New Hall. Intended Conservatory and Picture Gallery, &c.

DURING an excursion to Dove Dale in the autumn of 1820, I visited Ilam, one of the most romantic places in any part of the kingdom. On my way to this secluded spot, I passed along the road on the eastern side of Thorpe Cloud; and, approaching the mill where the river Dove emerges from Bunster Dale, I had a very pleasing view of Ilam Hall, nestled amongst woods, and environed with hills. This delightful place, which has long been celebrated for the beauty of its scenery, is the residence of Jesse Watts Russel, Esq. M. P. It is situated on the Staffordshire side of the river Dove, and therefore not properly an object for these excursions; but with those who visit Dove Dale, Ilam is always a point of attraction. Thorpe Cloud, one of the highest mountains of Derbyshire, stands like a mighty sentinel over its woods, gardens, groves, and meadows, that quietly repose in the deep hollow at its base. Its proximity to Dove Dale, the interesting and peculiar character of its scenery, and the pleasure it afforded me while I was an inmate of the hospitable mansion there, have induced me to give it a place amongst my observations on Derbyshire; nor is this, I hope, an unwarrantable trespass it is merely crossing the river that separates the two counties, and enriching my excursions with both sides of the sweet dale, that is watered by the brilliant stream of the Dove.

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330

VALE OF ILAM. ILAM HALL.

The hills about Ilam Hall have a magnificent character; they are thrown together in irregular forms, and, with one exception only, in connected masses. Some of their steep

acclivities are covered with wood; others, with a smooth glossy verdure; and in the space between them lies the sweet vale of Ilam. A village of a few houses only, scattered amongst trees; a country church, with a tower nearly covered with ivy; verdant meadows watered by a busy stream, every where sparkling with light-and on a gentle eminence, a venerable mansion rising out of, and backed with luxuriant foliage, are the principal features of this lovely spot, which is one of the most romantic little vales that nature ever formed. No glen in the Alps was ever more retired, or more delightful to behold. As I approached Ilam, and contemplated the landscape around me, I felt as if I had been treading on fairy ground. The parts were so beautiful, and so exquisitely combined, and the whole so rare and unexpected, that it seemed more like a scene of enchantment that might soon pass away, than any thing real and permanent. When this train of feeling had a little subsided, I entered the house, which I found a good commodious "building, made with hands," and the residence of the elegancies, as well as the comforts of life.

My readers must keep in recollection that I am now describing a visit to Ilam in the year 1820, a short time before the old hall was pulled down, and a more noble structure erected in its place. The principal entrance, agreeably to the fashion that once generally prevailed, was a square hall in the centre of the building, which communicated with the adjoining apartments: a massy old-fashioned fireplace, admirably adapted for winter, with a huge unlighted log of wood and some faggots in the grate, occupied nearly one side of the room; in a niche opposite, hung a Chinese gong, whose loud and sonorous sound summoned the company at Ilam to dinner: bows, arrows, and targets, a fine old organ, and some chairs of modern manufacture, completed the remaining part of the furniture of this apartment.

In the dining-room there were several good pictures, particularly a fine landscape by Gainsborough; a portrait of Mr. Watts Russell, by Sir William Beechey; an excellent and animated likeness of his Lady, by Phillips; and Hilton's admirable picture of "Una amongst the Satyrs," from Spenser's Fairy Queen.