The road from Keswick to Ambleside commences by the ascent of
Castle-rigg, the mountain, which the Penrith road descends, and which,
on that side, is crowned by a Druid's temple. The rise is now very
laborious, but the views it affords over the vale of Keswick are not
dearly purchased by the fatigue. All Bassenthwaite, its mountains
softening away in the perspective, and terminating, on the west, in the
sister woods of Wythop-brows, extends from the eye; and, immediately
beneath, the northern end of Derwentwater, with Cawsey-pike,
Thornthwaite-fell, the rich upland vale of Newland peeping from between
their bases, and the spiry woods of Foepark jutting into the lake
below. But the finest prospect is from a gate about halfway up the
hill, whence you look down upon the head of Derwentwater, with all the
alps of Borrowdale, opening darkly.
After descending Castle-rigg and crossing the top of St. John's vale,
we seemed as going into banishment from society, the road then leading
over a plain, closely surrounded by mountains so wild, that neither a
cottage, or a wood soften their rudeness, and so steep and barren, that
not even sheep appear upon their sides. From this plain the road enters
Legberthwaite, a narrow valley, running at the back of Borrowdale,
green at the bottom, and varied with a few farms, but without wood,
and with fells of gray precipices, rising to great height and nearly
perpendicular on either hand, whose fronts are marked only by the
torrents, that tumble from their utmost summits, and perpetually
occur. We often stopped to listen to their hollow sounds amidst the
solitary greatness of the scene, and to watch their headlong fall down
the rocky chasms, their white foam and silver line contrasting with the
dark hue of the clefts. In sublimity of descent these were frequently
much superior to that of Lowdore, but as much inferior to it in mass of
water and picturesque beauty.
As the road ascended towards Helvellyn, we looked back through this
vast rocky vista to the sweet vale of St. John, lengthening the
perspective, and saw, as through a telescope, the broad broken steeps
of Saddleback and the points of Skiddaw, darkly blue, closing it to
the north. The grand rivals of Cumberland were now seen together; and
the road, soon winding high over the skirts of Helvellyn, brought us
to Leathes-water, to which the mountain forms a vast side-skreen,
during its whole length. This is a long, but narrow and unadorned lake,
having little else than walls of rocky fells, starting from its margin.
Continuing on the precipice, at some height from the shore, the road
brought us, after three miles, to the poor village of Wythburn, and
soon after to the foot of Dunmail Rays, which, though a considerable
ascent, forms the dip of two lofty mountains, Steel-fell and Seat
Sandle, that rise with finely-sweeping lines, on each side, and shut up
the vale.
Beyond Dunmail Rays, one of the grand passes from Cumberland into
Westmoreland, Helm-crag rears its crest, a strange fantastic summit,
round, yet jagged and splintered, like the wheel of a water-mill,
overlooking Grasmere, which, soon after, opened below. A green
spreading circle of mountains embosoms this small lake, and, beyond, a
wider range rises in amphitheatre, whose rocky tops are rounded and
scolloped, yet are great, wild, irregular, and were then overspread
with a tint of faint purple. The softest verdure margins the water, and
mingles with corn enclosures and woods, that wave up the hills; but
scarcely a cottage any where appears, except at the northern end of
the lake, where the village of Grasmere and its very neat white church
stand among trees, near the shore, with Helm-crag and a multitude of
fells, rising over it and beyond each other in the perspective.
The lake was clear as glass, reflecting the headlong mountains, with
every feature of every image on its tranquil banks; and one green
island varies, but scarcely adorns its surface, bearing only a rude
and now shadeless hut. At a considerable height above the water, the
road undulates for a mile, till, near the southern end of Grasmere,
it mounts the crags of a fell, and seemed carrying us again into such
scenes of ruin and privation as we had quitted with Legberthwaite and
Leathes-water. But, descending the other side of the mountain, we
were soon cheered by the view of plantations, enriching the banks of
Rydal-water, and by thick woods, mingling among cliffs above the narrow
lake, which winds through a close valley, for about a mile. This lake
is remarkable for the beauty of its small round islands, luxuriant with
elegant trees and shrubs, and whose banks are green to the water's
edge. Rydal-hall stands finely on an eminence, somewhat withdrawn from
the east end, in a close romantic nook, among old woods, that feather
the fells, which rise over their summits and spread widely along the
neighbouring eminences. This antient white mansion looks over a rough
grassy descent, screened by groves of oak and majestic planes, towards
the head of Windermere, about two miles distant, a small glimpse of
which is caught beyond the wooded steeps of a narrow valley. In the
woods and in the disposition of the ground round Rydal-hall there is a
charming wildness, that suits the character of the general scene; and,
wherever art appears, it is with graceful plainness and meek subjection
to nature.
The taste, by which a cascade in the pleasure-grounds, pouring under
the arch of a rude bridge, amidst the green tint of woods, is shewn
through a darkened garden-house, and, therefore, with all the effect,
which the opposition of light and shade can give, is even not too
artificial; so admirably is the intent accomplished of making all the
light, that is admitted, fall upon the objects, which are chiefly meant
to be observed.
The road to Ambleside runs through the valley in front of Rydal-hall,
and for some distance among the grounds that belong to it, where again
the taste of the owner is conspicuous in the disposition of plantations
among pastures of extraordinary richness, and where pure rivulets are
suffered to wind without restraint over their dark rocky channels.
Woods mantle up the cliffs on either side of this sweet valley, and,
higher still, the craggy summits of the fells crowd over the scene. Two
miles among its pleasant shades, near the banks of the murmuring Rotha,
brought us to Ambleside, a black and very antient little town, hanging
on the lower steeps of a mountain, where the vale opens to the head of