Part 11

The entrance is partly artificial, to afford a greater facility to the visitor, who has to descend fifty-four steps. The cavern now opens on him in solitary grandeur. Huge masses of stone are piled on each other with a tremendous kind of carelessness, evidently produced by some violent concussion, though at an unknown period. He is conducted to a long and wide passage, the roof of which has all the regularity of a finished ceiling, and is bespangled by spars of various descriptions. From above, from beneath, and from the sides, the rays of the lights are reflected in every direction. In an adjacent compartment, rocks are heaped on rocks in terrible array, and assume a threatening aspect. Next is an apartment decorated with what, in the language of the country, is called the snow-fossil, a petrifaction which, both in figure and color, resembles snow, as it is drifted by the winter storm into the cavities of a rock. Near the extremity of the cavern are to be seen fishes petrified and fixed in the several strata which form the surrounding recess. One of these has its back jutting out of the side of the earth, as if it had been petrified in the act of swimming. In another branch of the cavern a well has been found of a considerable depth.

REYNARD’S HOLE.

After having proceeded about a mile in Dove dale, the romantic and sublime beauties of which will be hereafter noticed, by a route constantly diversified by new fantastic forms, and uncouth combinations of rock, the visitor is led to a mass of mural rock, bearing the above name, and perforated by nature into a grand arch, nearly approaching to the shape of the sharply pointed Gothic style of architecture, about forty-five feet in hight, and in width twenty. Having passed through this arch, a steep ascent leads to a natural cavern, called Reynard’s Hall, forty-five feet in length, fifteen in breadth, and in hight thirty. From the mouth of this cavern the scenery is singular, beautiful and impressive. The face of the rock which contains the arch, rises immediately in front, and would effectually prevent the eye from ranging beyond its mighty barrier, did not its center open into the above-mentioned arch, through which is seen a small part of the opposite side of the dale, consisting of a mass of gloomy wood, from the shade of which a huge detached rock, solitary, cragged, and pointed, starts out to a great hight, and forms an object truly sublime. This rock, which has received the name of Dove Dale Church, is pleasingly contrasted by the little pastoral river, Dove, and by its verdant turfy banks. A narrow opening at the extremity of the cavern is supposed to lead to other similar cavities in the rock; and on the left is a cavern, about forty feet in length, in breadth fourteen, and in hight twenty-six, called Reynard’s Kitchen, from the interior of which a pleasing view is presented of the upper part of the dale, its river and rocks.

After passing Reynard’s Hole, already described, the rocks rise more abruptly on either side, and appear in shapes more wild and irregular, but diversified and softened by shrubs.

Dove dale is nearly three miles in length; but from the sinuosity of its course, and its projecting precipices, the views are limited. Throughout the whole of this majestic feature of country, the river Dove flows, in the halcyon days of summer, with soft murmurs, innocently and transparently over its pebbly bed; but swells into rage during the winter months. Little tufts of shrubs and underwood form islands in miniature within its bed, which enlarge and swell the other objects. The scenery of this dale is distinguished from almost every other in the united kingdoms, by the rugged, dissimilar, and frequently grotesque and fanciful appearance of the rocks. To employ the words of a tourist here, “It is, perhaps, on the whole one of the most pleasing sceneries of the kind anywhere to be met with. It has something peculiarly characteristic. Its detached, perpendicular rocks stamp it with an image entirely its own, and for that reason it affords the greater pleasure. For it is in scenery as in life. We are most struck with the peculiarity of an original character, provided there be nothing offensive

THOR’S HOUSE.

“Where Hamps and Manifold, their cliffs among, Each in his flinty channel winds along, With lucid lines the dusky moor divides, Hurrying to intermix their sister tides, Where still their silver-bosom’d nymphs abhor The blood-smear’d mansion of gigantic Thor— Erst fires volcanic in the marble womb Of cloud-wrapp’d Whetton rais’d the massy dome; Rocks rear’d on rocks, in huge disjointed piles, Form the tall turrets, and the lengthen’d aisles; Broad pond’rous piers sustain the roof, and wide Branch the vast rainbow ribs from side to side. While from above, descends, in milky streams, One scanty pencil of illusive beams, Suspended crags, and gaping gulfs illumes, And gilds the horrors of the deepen’d glooms. Here oft the Naiads, as they chanc’d to stray Near the dread Fane, on Thor’s returning day, Saw from red altars streams of guiltless blood, Stain their green reed-beds, and pollute their flood; Heard dying babes in wicker prisons wail, And shrieks of matrons thrill the affrighted gale; While from dark caves infernal echoes mock, And fiends triumphant shout from every rock!”—DARWIN.

This spacious cavern is situated about two miles above Dove dale, near the village of Whetton; and tradition says the Druids here offered human sacrifices, inclosed in wicker idols, to Thor, the principal deity of the Saxons and Danes, in the ages of their idolatrous worship. Beneath is an extensive and romantic common, where the rivers Hamps and Manifold sink into the earth, and rise again in Islam gardens. These rivers merit a brief description. A wooden bridge has been thrown over an abyss in the rock, out of which the river Manifold bursts with surprising force, after having pursued a subterraneous course of five miles, from the point where it had engulfed itself in the earth, called Weston hill. At the further distance of twenty yards a similar phenomenon occurs; for here another fissure of a rock presents itself, whence the river Hamps throws its water into day. This river disappears at Leek-water Houses, a place between Leek and Ashbourn; thus pursuing a subterraneous course of seven miles, before it again emerges into light. On their emersion, the temperatures of the two rivers differ two degrees and a half, the Hamps being the coldest.

THE LOVERS’ LEAP.

The environs of Buxton abound in romantic sites, among the most striking of which is the dale named the Lovers’ Leap, on account of a vast precipice which forms one side of a narrow chasm, and from the summit of which a love-lorn female is said to have precipitated herself into the rocky gulf below. Each side of this beautiful dell is bounded by elevated rocks, the proximity of which is such, that for a considerable space there is scarcely room for the passage of the bubbling current of the Wye. Several of these rocks are perpendicular, and bare of vegetation; while others are covered with ivy, yew and ash-wood, with a craggy steep occasionally starting through the verdure. A circular road, extending in circumference about three miles, passes in view of the most romantic part of this dale, and forms a very agreeable walk or ride from Buxton. At the southern extremity the scenery assumes a milder character, the hollow taking the name of Mill dale, from a mill which is turned by the stream. In conjunction with a rude bridge, a mountainous path, and other rural objects, this forms a very picturesque view. Another fine scene is presented by a lofty rock, called Swallow Tor, which soars over a mass of wood, the river at its base foaming and roaring over broken masses of limestone.

THE MOORS.

Derbyshire is everywhere fruitful in natural curiosities, among the most striking of which may be reckoned the moors of Hope parish, inasmuch as they afford an extraordinary instance of the preservation of human bodies interred in them. In the year 1674, a grazier and his female servant, in crossing these moors on their way to Ireland, were lost in the snow, with which they were covered from January to May, and being then discovered, the bodies were so offensive that the coroner ordered them to be buried on the spot. After a lapse of twenty-nine years, when the ground was opened, they were in no way changed, the color of the skin being fair and natural, and the flesh as soft as that of persons newly dead. For twenty succeeding years they were occasionally exposed as a spectacle, but carefully covered after being viewed. They lay at the depth of about three feet, in a moist soil or moss. The minister of Hope parish was present in 1716, forty-two years after the accident, at a particular inspection of these bodies. On the stockings being drawn off, the man’s legs, which had not been uncovered before, were quite fair: the flesh, when pressed by the finger, pitted a little; and the joints played freely, without the least stiffness. Such parts of the clothing as the avidity of the country people, to possess so great a curiosity, had spared, were firm and good; and a piece of new serge, worn by the woman, did not appear to have undergone any sensible change.

OTHER ENGLISH CURIOSITIES.

Having thus brought to a conclusion our details relative to the wonders of the peak, and the various and interesting natural curiosities there to be found, we subjoin a brief notice of several others, which have, in England, attracted the notice of travelers.

Among the extraordinary caverns to be found in the mountains of the north of England, may be reckoned Yordas cave, in the vale of Kingsland, in Yorkshire, which contains a subterraneous cascade. Whethercot cave, not far from Ingleton, is divided by an arch of limestones, passing under which is seen a large cascade falling from a hight of more than sixty feet. The length of this cave is about one hundred and eighty feet, and the breadth ninety.

There are also in various parts of England many remarkable springs, of which some are impregnated either with salt, (as that of Droitwich, in Worcestershire,) or sulphur, (as the famous well of Wigan, in Lancashire,) or bituminous matter, (as that at Pitchford, in Shropshire.) Others have a petrifying quality, as that near Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, and a dropping well in the West Riding of Yorkshire. And, finally, some ebb and flow, as that of the peak described above, and Laywell near Torbay, whose waters rise and fall several times in an hour. To these we may add that remarkable fountain near Richard’s Castle, in Herefordshire, commonly called Bone Well, which is generally full of small bones, like those of frogs or fishes, though often cleared out. At a cliff near Wigan, in Lancashire, is the famous burning well: the water is cold, neither has it any smell; yet so strong a vapor of sulphur issues out with the stream, that upon applying a light to it, the top of the water is covered with a flame, like that of burning spirits, which lasts several hours, and emits such a heat that meat may be boiled over it.

MOUNTAINS OF GREAT BRITAIN.

The British isles present many mountains of a bold and imposing character: when contrasted, however, with those which have been already described, they must be considered as comparatively diminutive.

BEN NEVIS.

The loftiest of these mountains is Ben Nevis, in Scotland, its elevation above the level of the sea being forty-three hundred and eighty feet, or somewhat more than four-fifths of a mile. It terminates in a point, and elevates its rugged front far above all the neighboring mountains. It is of easy ascent; and at the perpendicular hight of fifteen hundred feet, the vale beneath presents a very agreeable prospect, the vista being beautified by a diversity of bushes, shrubs, and birch woods, besides many little verdant spots. The sea and the shore are also seen.

At the summit, the view extends at once across the island, eastward toward the German sea, and westward to the Atlantic ocean. Nature here appears on a majestic scale and the vastness of the prospect engages the whole attention, at the same time the objects in view are of no common dimensions. Just over the opening of the sound, at the south-west corner of Mull, Colonsay rises out of the sea like a shade of mist, at the distance of more than ninety miles. Shuna and Lismore appear like small spots of rich verdure, and, though nearly thirty miles distant, seem quite under the spectator. The low parts of Jura can not be discerned, nor any part of Isla; far less the coast of Ireland, as has been asserted. Such is, however, the wide extent of view, that it extends one hundred and seventy miles from the horizon of the sea at the Murray frith, on the north-east, to the island of Colonsay, on the south-west.

On the north-east side of Ben Nevis is an almost perpendicular precipice, certainly not less than fourteen hundred feet in depth; probably more, as it appears to exceed the third part of the entire hight of the mountain. A stranger is astonished at the sight of this dreadful rock, which has a quantity of snow lodged in its bosom throughout the whole year. The sound of a stone thrown over the cliff to the bottom, can not be heard when it falls, so that it is impossible to ascertain in that way the hight of the precipice.

SNOWDON.

This is the loftiest of the Welch mountains, its elevation above the level of the sea being thirty-seven hundred and twenty feet, or nearly three-quarters of a mile. It is accessible on one side only, its flanks being in every other quarter precipitous. Its aspect soon convinces the spectator that he is not to look to the Alps alone, or to the rocky regions of Altai, bordering on Siberia, for romantic scenes of wildness, confusion and disorder. Snowdon presents them in all their rude and native majesty.

In the ascent, a narrow path not more than nine feet in width, leads along the margin of a frightful precipice of nearly fifteen hundred feet in extent, so perpendicular that it can not be approached without terror; while to the north of the summit nearest to the one the most elevated, a semi-amphitheater of precipitous rocks, also of a great hight, is seen; and, behind this summit, another semicircle of equal depth and extent. The loftiest summit here appears to descend in the form of a sharp ridge, and beneath it another appears, which, on account of its color, is called the Black Rock. From the upper part of the valley, one of these summits presents a grand, vertical, and very elevated point.

The bottom of each of the amphitheaters of rocks, thirteen in number, is occupied by a small lake of a circular form, and very deep. The one known by the name of Llyn Glass is remarkable for its green hue, derived from its being impregnated with copper, several mines of which line its borders. Than this mountain, nothing in the Alps can be more arid and desert, those regions alone excepted which are too lofty to admit of vegetation. Here there is not a tree, not even a shrub; small patches of verdure, which sheep can scarcely reach, are alone to be seen. Its summit, or highest peak, is a flat of about eighteen feet only in circumference. Thence may be seen a part of Ireland, a part of Scotland, Cumberland, Lancashire, Cheshire, all North Wales, the isle of Man, and the Irish and British seas, with innumerable lakes; while the whole island of Anglesea is displayed so distinctly, that, its flat uncultivated plains, bounded by the rich Parys mountain in the vicinity of Holyhead, may be descried as on a map.

CADER IDRIS.

To the south of Dolgellau, Cader Idris towers above the subject mountains, which seem to retire, to allow its base more room to stand, and to afford to their sovereign a better display. It stands on a broad rocky base, with a gradual ascent to its brow, when the peaks elevate themselves in a manner at once abrupt, picturesque and distinct. The point emphatically named Cader, appears to the eye below to be little superior in hight to the saddle; but the third point, or apex, which has a name expressive of its sterility, is neither equal in hight, nor in beauty, to the other two. On its loftiest peak a stone pillar has lately been erected, for the purpose of a trigonometrical survey.

Cader Idris is the commencement of a chain of primitive mountains, and is computed to be twenty-eight hundred and fifty feet above the green of Dolgellau, and thirty-five hundred and fifty feet, or nearly three-fourths of a mile above the level of the sea. It has been conjectured that at some remote period it was a volcano of immense magnitude.

The tract to the south of Cader Idris, as far as Talylyn and Malwydd, is peculiarly grand. High and rugged mountains of every possible form, close in on all sides, while huge masses of rock hang over, or lie scattered in misshapen fragments by the side of the road. To add to the effect of this scene, the river Difi forms one continued cataract for five or six miles, overflowing with the innumerable tributary torrents which precipitate themselves from the highest summits of the surrounding rocks; while, to crown the whole, the shady head of Cader Idris towers, the majestic sentinel of the group.

PENMAN-MAWR.

The county of Caernarvon, in which this mountain is situated, claims precedency over every other in Wales, for the loftiness of its mountains, and the multitude of the eminences, which in a curved and indented chain, occupy nearly the whole of its extent.

In proceeding from Conway to Bangor, by a route at once picturesque and romantic, and amid a scenery which varies at every step, Penman-mawr discloses to the traveler its bulky head. It protrudes itself into the sea, and exhibits a fine contrast to the fertility which it interrupts, by a rude view of gray weather-beaten stones and precipices. The passage over the mountain was formerly terrific; but the road has been latterly widened and secured, near the verge of the precipice, by a small wall about five feet in hight. It forms the most sublime terrace in the British isles, winding round the mountain on the edge of the abrupt cliff; while the vast impending rocks above, the roaring of the waves at a great distance below, and the frequent howling of the wind, all unite to fill the mind with solemnity and awe.

SKIDDAW.

This English mountain, which has an elevation of thirty-five hundred and thirty feet, or nearly three-fourths of a mile above the level of the sea, is situated in Cumberland. It is more remarkable on account of the scenery over which it presides, and which exceeds in beauty whatever the imagination can paint, than for those bold projections and that rugged majesty which might be expected, but which will be here sought in vain. Except at such a distance as smooths the embossed work of all these rich fabrics, and where its double summit makes it a distinguished object to mark and characterize a scene, it may be considered as a tame and inanimate object.

WHARNSIDE.

In some of the maps of Yorkshire, the hight of this mountain is greatly exaggerated, its elevation above the sea not being more than twenty-five hundred feet, or nearly half a mile. As it is situated in the midst of a vast amphitheater of hills, the prospect it affords is diversified with pleasing objects. On its summit are four or five small lakes, two of which are about nine hundred feet in length, and nearly the same in breadth. A thin seam of coal also occurs near the top, and another is said to correspond with it on the summit of the lofty Colm hill, on the opposite side of Dent dale. Numerous caves and other natural curiosities abound here, as well as on Pennigent, about six miles to the eastward of Ingleborough. These latter mountains do not possess any particular interest.

STROMBOLI.

Stromboli is the principal of the cluster of small islands, lying to the north of Sicily, named the Lipari isles, the whole of which contain volcanoes. At a distance, its form appears to be that of an exact cone, but on a closer examination it is found to be a mountain having two summits of different hights, the sides of which have been torn and shattered by craters. The most elevated summit, inclining to the south-west, is, agreeably to Spallanzani, about a mile in hight.

In this volcanic mountain, the effects of a constantly active fire are everywhere visible, heaping up, destroying, changing, and overturning every instant what itself has produced, and incessantly varying in its operations. At the distance of one hundred miles, the flames it emits are visible, whence it has been aptly denominated the light-house of that part of the Mediterranean sea.

From the more elevated summit, all the inner part of the burning crater, and the mode of its eruption, may be seen. It is placed about half-way up, on the north-west side of the mountain, and has a diameter not exceeding two hundred and fifty feet. Burning stones are thrown up at regular intervals of seven or eight minutes, ascending in somewhat diverging rays. While a portion of them roll down toward the sea, the greater part fall back into the crater; and these being again cast out by a subsequent eruption, are thus tossed about until they are broken and reduced to ashes. The volcano, however, constantly supplies others, and seems inexhaustible in this species of productions. Spallanzani affirms that, in the more violent eruptions, the ejected matter rises to the hight of half a mile, or even higher, many of the ignited stones being thrown above the highest summit of the mountain.

The erupted stones, which appear black in the day-time, have at night a deep red color, and sparkle like fire-works. Each explosion is accompanied by flames or smoke, the latter resembling clouds, in the lower part black, in the upper white and shining, and separating into globular and irregular forms. In particularly high winds from the south or south-east, the smoke spreads over every part of the island. Spallanzani observed this volcano on a particular night, when the latter of these winds blew with great violence. The clear sky exhibited the appearance of a beautiful aurora borealis over that part of the mountain on which the volcano is situated, and which from time to time became more red and brilliant, in proportion as the ignited stones were thrown to a greater hight. The violence of the convulsions depends on that of the wind.