We went to a chapel, built by Sir Lynch Cotton for his tenants. It is
consecrated, and therefore, I suppose, endowed. It is neat and plain.
The Communion plate is handsome. It has iron pales and gates of great
elegance, brought from Lleweney, 'for Robert has laid all open[1184].'
We saw Hawkestone, the seat of Sir Rowland Hill, and were conducted by
Miss Hill over a large tract of rocks and woods; a region abounding with
striking scenes and terrifick grandeur. We were always on the brink of a
precipice, or at the foot of a lofty rock; but the steeps were seldom
naked: in many places, oaks of uncommon magnitude shot up from the
crannies of stone; and where there were not tall trees, there were
underwoods and bushes.
Round the rocks is a narrow patch cut upon the stone, which is very
frequently hewn into steps; but art has proceeded no further than to
make the succession of wonders safely accessible. The whole circuit is
somewhat laborious; it is terminated by a grotto cut in a rock to a
great extent, with many windings, and supported by pillars, not hewn
into regularity, but such as imitate the sports of nature, by asperities
and protuberances.
The place is without any dampness, and would afford an habitation not
uncomfortable. There were from space to space seats in the rock. Though
it wants water, it excels Dovedale by the extent of its prospects, the
awfulness of its shades, the horrors of its precipices, the verdure of
its hollows, and the loftiness of its rocks: the ideas which it forces
upon the mind are, the sublime, the dreadful, and the vast. Above is
inaccessible altitude, below is horrible profundity. But it excels the
garden of Ilam only in extent.
Ilam has grandeur, tempered with softness; the walker congratulates his
own arrival at the place, and is grieved to think that he must ever
leave it. As he looks up to the rocks, his thoughts are elevated; as he
turns his eyes on the vallies, he is composed and soothed.
He that mounts the precipices at Hawkestone, wonders how he came
thither, and doubts how he shall return. His walk is an adventure, and
his departure an escape. He has not the tranquillity, but the horror, of
solitude; a kind of turbulent pleasure, between fright and admiration.
Ilam is the fit abode of pastoral virtue, and might properly diffuse its
shades over Nymphs and Swains. Hawkestone can have no fitter inhabitants
than giants of mighty bone and bold emprise[1185]; men of lawless
courage and heroic violence. Hawkestone should be described by Milton,
and Ilam by Parnel.
Miss Hill shewed the whole succession of wonders with great civility.
The house was magnificent, compared with the rank of the owner.