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.---Rousseau, 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 70 Monument in Ashbourne Church. 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 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, 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 inscrip The Dog and Partridge. 71 tions 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, suggested to Chantrey the execution of that master-piece of art, the group of the Two Children, which is now the grace and ornament of Litchfield Cathedral, and the boast of modern sculpture. We left Ashbourne by the same road along which we had passed the preceding evening; and after a walk of about two miles, we beheld at a short distance on our left, the airy summit of Thorpe 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 Thorpe Cloud again disappeared, and we shortly afterwards came to the Dog and Partridge, the publichouse which we had passed the night before, on our way to Ashbourne. Here we rested, and took a short refreshment, previously to our proceeding to Dove Dale. Entering the house, we observed traces of blood on the threshold, and on a seat near the fire-place of the first apartment into which we were admitted. Farther on, in an unfrequented room, and half out of sight, lay the greater part of a man's dress, almost covered with stains of blood. I felt an involuntary shuddering at the sight, but it was only a transient feeling; yet I confess that the figures we had observed as we passed the house the former evening, were for a moment associated with the bloody clothes. We learnt before we left the house, that the man who kept it had been cut 72 First View of Dove Dale. ting hay from a stack near his dwelling, and falling upon the knife, he had been wounded in a dreadful manner. Profuse bleeding ensued, and the appearances we had noticed were thus accounted for. Shortly we left the house, which, at this particular time, was literally a house of mourning, and passed along a good carriage-road, which, after descending into a valley near, led us to the little village of Thorpe. Our path now lay through some open pastures, until winding round the side of Thorpe Cloud, which was upon our left, we first beheld the translucid waters of the Dove playing and sparkling in the depths of the dale below. Here we paused in silent contemplation of the scene. The character of the first view of Dove Dale is simple grandeur: the hills swell boldly from both sides of the river, and their majestic summits are often hid amongst the clouds; the parts are few, and the outlines sweep gracefully into each other: yet here the dale exhibits only a small portion of its rich materials, and curiosity is rather excited than gratified. It was a fine morning when we first beheld the enchanting scenery of the river Dove, yet still the summit of Thorpe Cloud was sometimes obscured with vapour, or, in the phraseology of the place, the "mountain had its cap on." When we had reached the margin of the river, and were measuring with the eye the altitude of the hills which shape its course, we observed some sportsmen with their dogs ranging amongst the bushes on the steep acclivities on our right, and so far above us as to appear strangely diminutive in stature, and but the miniature representations of what they were. As we passed along the dale, the report of their guns occasionally rung in loud discord amongst the rocks, interrupting the solitude of the place, and destroying the peculiar tone of feeling that it is eminently calculated to excite. |