Murray Gilchrist - The Peak District

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Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/peakdistrict00gilciala

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THE WYE NEAR CRESSBROOK DALE

THE WYE NEAR CRESSBROOK DALE

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THE
PEAK DISTRICT

Text by R. MURRAY GILCHRIST
Pictures by E. W. HASLEHUST

BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW

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Blackie & Son Limited
50 Old Bailey, London
17 Stanhope Street, Glasgow
Blackie & Son (India) Limited
Warwick House, Fort Street, Bombay
Blackie & Son (Canada) Limited
Toronto

BEAUTIFUL ENGLAND
The Heart of London.	Winchester.
Dartmoor.	The Thames.
Canterbury.	The Cornish Riviera.
Oxford.	Shakespeare-land.
Bath and Wells.	Cambridge.
In Londons By-ways.	York.
The Peak District.	The English Lakes.
BEAUTIFUL SCOTLAND
Loch Lomond and the Trossachs.	Edinburgh. The Scott Country.
The Shores of Fife.

Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Facing Page

The Wye near Cressbrook Dale

High Tor, Matlock

Bakewell, South Church Street

Monsal Dale

Queen Marys Bower, Chatsworth

Haddon Hall

Dorothy Vernons Bridge, Haddon

Millers Dale

Lathkil Dale

Dovedale

Peak Cavern Gorge, Castleton

Mam Tor

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HIGH TOR, MATLOCK

HIGH TOR, MATLOCK

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THE PEAK DISTRICT

THE PEAK DISTRICT

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FROM SPA TO SPA

In Peakland one marvels most at the strange variety of sceneryillustrations of all English inland beauty seem to have been grouped there for mans delight. There are tender meadows, streams such as must have meandered through Arcady, fantastical hillocks, mountains that cut the skyline with dog-tooth edges, moors that change colour every day of the year; there are two of the most notable houses in existencehouses famous all over the civilized worldand two spas unlike each other and unlike any spas in England.

The folk are genial and ever willing to pass the time o day; they show themselves, as in the days of Philip Kinder, the eighteenth-century historiographer, courteous and ready to show the ways and help a passenger. The women are sober and very diligent in their huswifery; they hate idleness, and obey their husband.

Kinder also asserts that they are much given to dance after the bagpipe, and almost every town hath a bagpipe in it. To-day the Peaklanders are as fond of dancing as ever, and although no piper produces eerie music, at feast times they can still make a very pretty show. The hill country has endowed the youths and maidens with suppleness and they trip it with exceeding grace.

Peaklanders are shrewd, lovable, and unspoilt, somewhat distrustful of foreignersall unrelated folk who dwell on the farther side of the moors are foreignersyet quite as hospitable as the more reserved natives of Yorkshire. Old customs are tenaciously preservedin some places the wells are dressed with flowers for the festival of the patron saint, and in one of the most remote villages every Royal Oak Day a quaint and pretty pageant enlivens the irregular grey streets. At such times the kin from far-distant towns return to the old home and spend a few hours of happy merrymaking.

To my thinking the most satisfactory entrance to the Peak Country is by way of Scarthin Nick, a gap through which the old London-to-Manchester coaching road passes on its way to Matlock Bath. Throughout the year this valley never fails to suggest a foreign country: in the blackness of mid-winter one might believe oneself in Norway; in spring and summer one is curiously reminded of Switzerland; in autumn, when the foliage glows marvellously, one might be looking upon some fanciful picture done by a southern painter with a passion for vivid colour. To the right flows the Derwent, with clear waters tranquil before the crossing of a white weir, or churning merrily between great boulders.

From the Black Rocks near by may be seen one of the finest views in all Peaklandthe Matlock Dale with its High Tor and its quaintly named Heights of Abraham, its grotesque sham medival castle, its pleasantly situated mansion of Willersley, which was built by one of Derbyshires best-famed men, Sir Richard Arkwright. Farther away lie Dethickwith a quaint church that was built by the grandfather of Mary Stuarts Anthony Babingtonand Lea Hurst, the Peakland home of Miss Florence Nightingale. The Via Gellia, a narrow valley, well-wooded, opens not far from the old posting house; in May the traveller is assailed there by rustic children who offer bunches of greenish lilies of the valley.

Matlock is crowded with holiday-makers in summer-time, and progress along the road becomes somewhat difficult; nevertheless it is impossible even then to deny the strange beauty of the place. There is an air of pleasant freedom; life moves briskly; the valley might be threaded by a great highway. No watering-place has a greater wealth of lovers walks, of caves, of petrifying wells, and other objects of interest well-calculated to amuse and delight the tripper. The visitor is happy, albeit feverish, and there is to be seen little aping of the manners of fine society.

Onward through Darley Dale one sees to the left Oker Hill, with its solitary treethe survivor of two planted by the brothers Shore, collateral ancestors of the Lady of the Lamp. Wordsworth wrote a pathetic sonnet concerning the separation of these young men. In Darley churchyard is one of the most famous yews still existent. Centuries ago much of the land about here was owned by the Dakeyne family, whose mottoStryke, Dakyns, the Devils in the Hempe! still puzzles the student of heraldry. Sir Joseph Whitworths Institutesurely a boon to the young countryfolkrises near the road, as does his Cottage Hospital, and, farther, his house, Stancliffe Hall, now shorn of much of its dignity by rough quarries.

Just beyond Rowsley Bridge may be seen the old Peacock Hotel, perhaps the most picturesque hostelry in all England. Above the porch of this gabled, creeper-covered house stands a stone peacock in his pride. This bird is the badge of the Rutland familyone finds inns bearing the name in many Derbyshire villages. The sheltered garden is well worth seeing; it might be the glory of some ancient well-beloved mansion. Quaint flowers thrive there, and beside the Derwent stretches a pleasant well-screened walk, where one may rest with some well-chosen book or friend, and hear the tranquil susurrus of the smoothly gliding stream.

Then, beyond Fillyford Bridge over the Wye, which joins the Derwent not far from the inn, debouches one of the strangest and most beautiful vales of Peakland. To the left of this is the village of Winster, with a fine old mansion that was once occupied by Llewellyn Jewitt, the well-known Derbyshire antiquarian, and a singular Market Hall with walled-up windows. The place lies in a backwater. One expects to see naught modern at Winster; the inhabitants should wear eighteenth-century garments, and should carry lanterns and pattens to their tea parties. Near by are the grotesque Rowtor Rocks, Robin Hoods Stride, and Cratcliff Tor. One is continually reminded of the weird and charming Vivares engravings that may be found embellishing the coffee-rooms of conservative inns.

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