It may be as well to note that the principal inn at Bakewell is the Rutland Arms: it is a family hotel, but there are other comfortable inns in the place. Opposite the Rutland Arms are the baths and bath-gardens: the baths, which were known to the Romans, have the reputation of being efficacious in rheumatism.
Having already very briefly alluded to the routes by which Haddon Hall may be visited both from Buxton on the one hand, and from Derby on the other, and having then spoken of some of the attractions of Buxton, it may be well now to say a few words regarding Matlock Bath, through which the visitor will pass by rail on his journey from London, from Derby, or from the North.
Matlock Bath is about seven miles from Haddon Hall; and, exclusive of its baths, which are as famous as those of Buxton, and for the benefit of which the invalid may pass the season pleasantly and profitably, it has attractions of scenery which no other inland watering-place can boast. Its “High Tor” rising almost perpendicularly to a height of about 400 feet above the river Derwent, which flows at its base; its “Lovers’ Walks,” winding along by the side of the river, and zig-zagging up the mountain side; its “Heights of Abraham” and “Masson” towering over the valley: its “romantic rocks,” and its many caverns; its petrifying wells, its “grottoes,” and its other attractions, render Matlock Bath a place of delight to the tourist; while the surrounding district, rich in minerals, in ferns, and in other botanical specimens, and full of gorgeous scenery, is “passing beautiful,” and will amply repay the pleasant labour of exploring.
At Matlock Bath the principal hotels are the “New Bath,” “Walker’s Terrace Hotel,” “The Temple,” and “Hodgkinson’s,” and the place swarms with lodging-houses and all things to attract and to keep the tourist. From Matlock, delightful day-trips may be made to Haddon Hall, to Hardwick Hall, to Chatsworth, the “Palace of the Peak”—the princely seat of the Duke of Devonshire; to Dovedale, with its glorious scenery, and its pleasant associations with old Izaac Walton and Charles Cotton; to the Via Gellia and its surroundings; to Lea Hurst, the early home of Florence Nightingale; and to numberless other places of interest—all easily attainable by railroad or carriage.
And now, may not a visit to this grand old Hall be productive of thought? First, let us give thanks to the noble owner—the Duke of Rutland—that he freely opens its gates to all comers, keeps it in a state of neatness and order, and takes special care that Time shall make no farther inroads on the mansion of his ancestors, preserving it for the enjoyment of all who seek instruction and pleasure there; permitting them, indeed, to make of one of its rooms a dinner-room for the day; rendering it, in fact, the common property of the public, and by his occasional presence ascertaining that all is done that can be done for their happiness while in its gardens or within its walls: thus practically commenting on the exhortation and protest of the Poet-laureate—
“Why don’t those acred sirs
Throw up their parks some dozen times a year,
And let the people breathe?”
HATFIELD HOUSE.
