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diff --git a/35933-h/35933-h.htm b/35933-h/35933-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac7d586 --- /dev/null +++ b/35933-h/35933-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13976 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Month In Yorkshire, by Walter White. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + text-align: right; + padding: 0; + margin: 0; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquotbig { + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 20%; +} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px; padding:0.5em;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:50%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em -10em;} +.poem .stanzawide {margin: 1em 0em 1em -14em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +.small {font-size:small;} +.smaller {font-size:smaller;} +.large {font-size:large;} +.x-large {font-size: x-large;} +.xx-large {font-size: xx-large;} + +.blackletter {font-family: Blackletter, cursive} + +.gap4 {margin-top:4em;} +.hangindent {padding-left:2em; text-indent:-2em;} +.indent1{padding-left:1em;} +.rindent1{padding-right:1em;} +.ralign {text-align:right;} +.pad1 {padding-top:1em;} +.justify {text-align:justify;} +.vbot {vertical-align: bottom;} +.hrpoem {margin-left:0em; width:45%; text-align:left;} + +.indexfirst {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 0em;} +.indexmain {margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0em;} +.indexsub {margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left:2em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Month in Yorkshire, by Walter White + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Month in Yorkshire + +Author: Walter White + +Release Date: April 22, 2011 [EBook #35933] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MONTH IN YORKSHIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> + +<p class="xx-large center"><b>A MONTH IN YORKSHIRE.</b></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<a href="images/monthmap.png"><img src="images/monthmapth.png" width="386" height="260" alt="YORKSHIRE." title="" /></a> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + +<h1>A +MONTH IN YORKSHIRE.</h1> + +<p class="center"><b>BY</b></p> +<p class="center x-large"><b>WALTER WHITE,</b></p> + +<div class="blockquotbig"><p class="center small">AUTHOR OF “A LONDONER’S WALK TO THE LAND’S END,” “ALL +ROUND THE WREKIN,” AND OTHER BOOKS OF TRAVEL.</p> + +<p class="small gap4">“Know most of the rooms of thy native country, before +thou goest over the threshold thereof; especially, seeing +England presents thee with so many observables.”—<span class="smcap">Fuller.</span></p></div> + +<p class="center gap4 blackletter">FOURTH EDITION.</p> + +<p class="center gap4">LONDON:</p> +<p class="center">CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.</p> +<p class="center small">1861.</p> +<p class="center small">[<i>The right of Translation is reserved.</i>]</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center gap4 blackletter">By the same Author.</p> + +<div class="blockquotbig"><p class="hangindent"><span class="smcap">A Londoner’s Walk to the Land’s End; and a Trip to +the Scilly Isles.</span> <i>Second Edition.</i></p> + +<p class="hangindent smcap">On Foot through Tyrol.</p> + +<p class="hangindent smcap">A July Holiday in Saxony, Bohemia and Silesia.</p> + +<p class="hangindent"><span class="smcap">Northumberland and the Border.</span> <i>Second Edition.</i></p> + +<p class="hangindent"><span class="smcap">All Round the Wrekin.</span> <i>Second Edition.</i></p></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FOREWORD_TO_THE_FOURTH_EDITION" id="FOREWORD_TO_THE_FOURTH_EDITION"></a>FOREWORD TO THE FOURTH EDITION.</h2> + +<p>The first two editions of this work had not long been published +when I was pelted with animadversions for the “scandalous +misrepresentation” conveyed in my report of a conversation held +with a villager at Burnsall; which conversation may be read in +the twenty-second chapter. My reply was, that I had set down +less than was spoken—that I had brought no accusation, not +having even mentioned the “innocent-looking country town” +as situate in any one of the three Ridings—that what I had seen, +however, in some of the large towns, led me to infer that the +imputation (if such it were) would hardly fail to apply; and, +moreover, if the Yorkshire conscience felt uneasy, was I to be +held responsible?</p> + +<p>My explanation that the town in question was not in Yorkshire, +was treated as of none effect, and my censors rejoined in legal +phrase, that I had no case. So I went about for awhile under a +kind of suspicion, or as an unintentional martyr, until one day +there met me two gentlemen from Leeds, one of whom declared +that he and others, jealous of their county’s reputation, and doubting +not to convict me of error, had made diligent inquiry and found +to their discomfiture, that the assemblages implied in the villager’s +remark, did actually take place within Yorkshire itself. The discovery +is not one to be proud of; but, having been made, let the +county strive to free itself from at least that reproach.</p> + +<p>Another censurable matter was my word of warning against +certain inns which had given me demonstration that their entertainment, +regulated by a sliding scale, went up on the arrival of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> +a stranger. Yorkshire wrote a flat denial of the implication to +my publishers, and inclosed a copy of what he called “his tariff,” +by way of proof, which would have been an effectual justification +had my grievance been an invention; but, as it happened, the +tariff presented testimony in my favour, by the difference between +its prices and those which I had been required to pay.</p> + +<p>I only notice this incident because of the general question, in +which all who travel are more or less interested. Why should an +Englishman, accustomed to equitable dealings while staying at +home, be required to submit so frequently to the reverse when +journeying in his own country? Shopkeepers are ready to sell +socks, or saddles, or soap without an increase of price on the plea +that they may never see you again, and without expecting you to +fee their servants for placing the article before you; and why +should innkeepers claim a privilege to do otherwise? The numerous +complaints which every season’s experience calls forth from +tourists, imply a want of harmony between “travelling facilities” +and the practice of licensed victuallers; and if English folk are +to be persuaded to travel in their own country, the sooner the required +harmony is established, the better. It would be very easy +to exhibit a table of charges and fees by which a tourist might +ascertain cost beforehand, and choose accordingly. Holland is a +notoriously dear and highly-taxed country, yet fivepence a day +is all the charge that Dutch innkeepers make for “attendance.”</p> + +<p>In one instance the discussion took a humorous turn:—the name +of a certain jovial host, with whom I had a talk in Swaledale, +appeared subscribed to a letter in the <i>Richmond Chronicle</i>, and as +it furnishes us with a fresh specimen of local dialect, I take leave +to quote a few passages therefrom. After expostulating with the +editor for “prentan” a letter which somebody had written in his +“neame,” the writer says, “but between ye an’ me, I believe this +chap’s been readin’ a buke put out by yan White, ’at was trailin’ +about t’ Deales iv hay-time, an’ afoare he set off to gang by t’ +butter-tubs to t’ Hawes, he ast me what publick-house he was to +gang te, an’ I tell’t him t’ White Hart; an’ becoz he mebby fand +t’ shot rayther bigger than a lik’d, he’s gi’en t’ landlord a wipe iv +his buke aboot t’ length of his bill, an’ me aboot t’ girth o’ me body—pity +but he’d summat better to rite aboot; but nivver heed, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span> +nobbut shows ’at my meat agrees wi’ me, an’ ’at t’ yal ’at I brew +’s naythur sour ner wake, an’ ’at I drink my shar’ on’t mysel: but +if I leet on him, or can mak’ oot t’ chap ’at sent ye t’ letter, I’ll +gi’ ’em an on-be-thinkin.”</p> + +<p>Sheffield, too, has not yet ceased to reprove me for having +published the obvious fact, that the town is frightfully smoky, +and unclean in appearance and in its talk. If I were to make +any alteration in this particular, it would be to give emphasis, +not to lighten the description. A town which permits its trade +to be coerced by ignorance, and where the ultimate argument of +the working-classes is gunpowder or a knock on the head, should +show that the best means have been taken to purify morals as +well as the atmosphere and streets, before it claims to be “nothing +like so bad as is represented.” But, the proverb which declares +that “people who eat garlic are always sure it doesn’t smell,” will +perhaps never cease to be true.</p> + +<p>Of the £14,000,000 worth of woollen and worsted goods exported +in 1859, Yorkshire supplied the largest portion; and still +maintains its reputation for “crafty wit and shrinking cloth,” +as shewn by the increase in the manufacture of shoddy. One of +the manufacturers at Batley has made known in a printed pamphlet, +that 50,000,000 pounds of rags are at the present time +annually converted into various kinds of so-called woollen goods. +We walk on shoddy as it covers our floors; and we wear shoddy +in our stockings and under-garments, as well as in capes and +overcoats. Turning to mineral products, we find that in 1859, +Yorkshire raised 1,695,842 tons of ironstone, and 8,247,000 tons of +coal, worth in round numbers £3,573,000. And with all this +there is an increase in the means and results of education, and +an abatement of pauperism: in 1820, the poor’s-rate in Hull was +seven shillings and eightpence in the pound, in 1860, not more +than eightpence.</p> + +<p>And to mention facts of another kind:—by the digging of a +drain on Marston Moor, a heap of twenty-five or thirty skeletons +was discovered, around which the clay retained the form of the +bodies, like a mould; a bullet fell from one of the skulls, and in +some the teeth were perfectly sound, 213 years after the battle. +At Malton, during a recent excavation of the main street, one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> +hundred yards of the Roman highway leading from Derby to +York were laid bare, three feet below the present surface. +Scarborough is building new batteries on her castled cliff, and +replacing old guns by new ones; and Hull is about to add to its +resources by the construction of a new dock. The much-needed +harbour of refuge is, however, not yet begun, as wrecks along +the coast after easterly storms lamentably testify.</p> + +<p>This <i>Month in Yorkshire</i> was the second of my books of home-travel; +and it was while rambling along the cliffs and over the +hills of the famous county, that I conceived it possible to interest +others as well as myself in the Past and the Present, in the delightful +natural aspects and the wonderful industry of our native +country to a yet wider extent; and therein I have not been +disappointed. To the objection that my works are useless as +guide-books, I answer, that no intelligent reader will find it difficult +to follow my route: distances are mentioned with sufficient +accuracy, the length of my longest day’s walk is recorded, whereby +any one, who knows his own strength, may easily plan each day’s +journey in anticipation. By aid of the map which accompanies the +present volume either planning or reference will now be facilitated.</p> + +<p>Next to ourselves, there is perhaps nothing so interesting to us +as our own country, which may be taken as a good reason why a +book about England finds favour with readers. For my part let +me repeat a passage from the foreword to the second edition:—“I +know that I have an earnest love for my subject; feeling proud +of the name of Englishman, and the freedom of thought, speech, +and action therein involved; loving our fields and lanes, our hills +and moorlands, and the shores of our sea, and delighting much to +wander among them. Happy shall I be if I can inspire the +reader with the like emotions.”</p> + +<p class="ralign rindent1">W. W</p> + +<p class="indent1"><i>London, March, 1861.</i></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table summary="TOC"> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER I.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td class="small ralign">PAGE.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent"><span class="smcap">A Short Chapter to begin with</span></td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER II.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Estuary of the Humber—Sunk Island—Land <i>versus</i> Water—Dutch +Phenomena—Cleathorpes—Grimsby—Paul—River Freaks—Mud—Stukeley +and Drayton—Fluvial Parliament—Hull—The Thieves’ +Litany—Docks and Drainage—More Dutch Phenomena—The High +Church—Thousands of Piles—The Citadel—The Cemetery—A Countryman’s +Voyage to China—An Aid to Macadam</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER III.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">A Railway Trip—More Land Reclamation—Hedon—Historical +Recollections—Burstwick—The Earls of Albemarle—Keyingham—The Duke +of York—Winestead—Andrew Marvell’s Birthplace—A Glimpse of +the Patriot—Patrington—A Church to be proud of—The Hildyard +Arms—Feminine Paper-hangers—Walk to Spurn—Talk with a Painter—Welwick—Yellow +Ochre and Cleanliness—Skeffling—Humber Bank—Miles +of Mud—Kilnsea—Burstall Garth—The Greedy Sea—The +Sandbank—A Lost Town, Ravenser Odd—A Reminiscence from +Shakspeare—The Spurn Lighthouse—Withernsea—Owthorne—Sister +Churches—The Ghastly Churchyard—A Retort for a Fool—A Word +for Philologists</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER IV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Northern Manners—Cottingham—The Romance of Baynard Castle—Beverley—Yorkshire +Dialect—The Farmers’ Breakfast—Glimpses of +the Town—Antiquities and Constables—The Minster—Yellow Ochre—The +Percy Shrine—The Murdered Earl—The Costly Funeral—The +Sisters’ Tomb—Rhyming Legend—The Fridstool—The Belfry</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_27">27</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER V.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">A Scotchman’s Observations—The Prospect—The Anatomy of Beverley—Historical +Associations—The Brigantes—The Druids—Austin’s Stone—The +Saxons—Coifi and Paulinus—Down with Paganism—A Great +Baptism—St. John of Beverley—Athelstan and Brunanburgh—The +Sanctuary—The Conqueror—Archbishop Thurstan’s Privileges—The +Sacrilegious Mayor—Battle of the Standard—St. John’s Miracles—Brigand +Burgesses—Annual Football—Surrounding Sites—Watton +and Meaux—Etymologies—King Athelstan’s Charter</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER VI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">The Great Drain—The Carrs—Submerged Forest—River Hull—Tickton—Routh—Tippling +Rustics—A Cooler for Combatants—The Blind +Fiddler—The Improvised Song—The Donkey Races—Specimens of +Yorkshiremen—Good Wages—A Peep at Cottage Life—Ways and +Means—A Paragraph for Bachelors—Hornsea Mere—The Abbots’ +Duel—Hornsea Church—The Marine Hotel</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER VII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Coast Scenery—A waning Mere, and wasting Cliffs—The Rain and the +Sea—Encroachment prevented—Economy of the Hotel—A Start on the +Sands—Pleasure of Walking—Cure for a bad Conscience—Phenomena +of the Shore—Curious Forms in the Cliffs—Fossil Remains—Strange +Boulders—A Villager’s Etymology—Reminiscences of “Bonypart” +and Paul Jones—The last House—Chalk and Clay—Bridlington—One +of the Gipseys—Paul Jones again—The Sea-Fight—A Reminiscence of +Montgomery</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER VIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">What the Boarding-House thought—Landslips—Yarborough House—The +Dane’s Dike—Higher Cliffs—The South Landing—The Flamborough +Fleet—Ida, the Flamebearer—A Storm—A talk in a Limekiln—Flamborough +Fishermen—Coffee before Rum—No Drunkards—A +Landlord’s Experiences—Old-fashioned Honesty</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER IX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Men’s and Women’s Wages—The Signal Tower—The passing Fleet—The +Lighthouse—The Inland View—Cliff Scenery—Outstretching Reefs—Selwick’s +Bay—Down to the Beach—Aspect of the Cliffs—The +Matron—Lessons in Pools—Caverns—The King and Queen—Arched +Promontories—The North Landing—The Herring-Fishers—Pleasure +Parties—Robin Lyth’s Hole—Kirk Hole—View across little Denmark—Speeton—End +of the Chalk—Walk to Filey</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_60">60</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER X.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Old and New Filey—The Ravine—Filey Brig—Breaking Waves—Rugged +Cliffs—Prochronic Gravel—Gristhorp Bay—Insulated Column—Lofty +Cliffs—Fossil Plants—Red Cliff—Cayton Bay—Up to the Road—Bare +Prospect—Cromwell Hotel and Oliver’s Mount—Scarborough—The +Esplanade—Watering-Place Phenomena—The Cliff Bridge—The +Museum—The Spa—The Old Town—The Harbour—The Castle +Rock—The Ancient Keep—The Prospect—Reminiscences: of Harold +Hardrada; of Pembroke’s Siege; of the Papists’ Surprise; of George +Fox; of Robin Hood—The One Artilleryman—Scarborough Newspapers—Cloughton—The +Village Inn, and its Guests—Tudds and +Pooads</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">From Cloughton to Haiburn Wyke—The embowered Path—Approach to +the Sea—Rock, Water, and Foliage—Heavy Walking—Staintondale +Cliffs—The Undercliff—The Peak—Raven Hall—Robin Hood’s Bay—A +Trespass—Alum Works—Waterfalls—Bay Town—Manners and +Customs of the Natives—Coal Trade—The Churchyard—Epitaphs—Black-a-moor—Hawsker—Vale +of Pickering—Robin Hood and Little +John’s Archery—Whitby Abbey—Beautiful Ruin—St. Hilda, Wilfrid, +and Cœdmon—Legends—A Fallen Tower—St. Mary’s Church—Whitby—The +Vale of Esk—Specimens of Popular Hymns</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Whitby’s Attractions—The Pier—The River-Mouth—The Museum—Saurians +and Ammonites—An enthusiastic Botanist—Jet in the Cliffs, +and in the Workshop—Jet Carvers and Polishers—Jet Ornaments—The +Quakers’ Meeting—A Mechanics’ Institute—Memorable Names—A +Mooky Miner—Trip to Grosmont—The Basaltic Dike—Quarries +and Ironstone—Thrifty Cottagers—Abbeys and Hovels—A Stingy +Landlord—Egton Bridge—Eskdale Woods—The Beggar’s Bridge</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">To Upgang—Enter Cleveland—East Row—The first Alum-Maker—Sandsend—Alum-Works—The +huge Gap—Hewing the Alum Shale—Limestone +Nodules: Mulgrave Cement—Swarms of Fossils—Burning +the Shale—Volcanic Phenomena—From Fire to Water—The Cisterns—Soaking +and Pumping—The evaporating Pans—The Crystallizing +Process—The Roching Casks—Brilliant Crystals—A Chemical Triumph—Rough +Epsoms</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_97">97</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Mulgrave Park—Giant Wade—Ubba’s Landing-place—The Boggle-boggarts—The +Fairy’s Chase—Superstitions—The Knight of the Evil Lake—Lythe—St. +Oswald’s Church—Goldsborough—Kettleness—Rugged +Cliffs and Beach—Runswick Bay—Hob-Hole—Cure for Whooping-cough—Jet +Diggers—Runswick—Hinderwell—Horticultural Ravine—Staithes—A +curious Fishing-town—The Black Minstrels—A close-neaved +Crowd—The Cod and Lobster—Houses washed away—Queer +back Premises—The Termagants’ Duel—Fisherman’s Talk—Cobles and +Yawls—Dutch and French Poachers—Tap-room Talk—Reminiscences +of Captain Cook</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Last Day by the Sea—Boulby—Magnificent Cliffs—Lofthouse and +Zachary Moore—The Snake-killer—The Wyvern—Eh! Packman—Skinningrave—Smugglers +and Privateers—The Bruce’s Privileges—What +the old Chronicler says—Story about a Sea-Man—The Groaning +Creek—Huntcliff Nab—Rosebury Topping—Saltburn—Cormorant +Shooters—Cunning Seals—Miles of Sands—Marske—A memorable +Grave—Redcar—The Estuary of Tees—Asylum Harbour—Recreations +for Visitors—William Hutton’s Description—Farewell to the Sea</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Leave Redcar—A Cricket-Match—Coatham—Kirkleatham—The Old +Hospital—The Library—Sir William Turner’s Tomb—Cook, Omai, +and Banks—The Hero of Dettingen—Yearby Bank—Upleatham—Guisborough—Past +and Present—Tomb of Robert Bruce—Priory +Ruins—Hemingford, Pursglove, and Sir Thomas Chaloner—Pretty +Scenery—The Spa—More Money, Less Morals—What George Fox’s +Proselytes did—John Wesley’s Preaching—Hutton Lowcross—Rustics +of Taste—Rosebury Topping—Lazy Enjoyment—The Prospect: from +Black-a-moor to Northumberland—Cook’s Monument—Canny Yatton—The +Quakers’ School—A Legend—Skelton—Sterne and Eugenius—Visitors +from Middlesbro’—A Fatal Town—Newton—Digger’s Talk—Marton, +Cook’s Birthplace—Stockton—Darlington</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Locomotive, Number One—Barnard Castle—Buying a Calf on Sunday—Baliol’s +Tower—From Canute to the Duke of Cleveland—Historic +Scenery—A surprised Northumbrian—The bearded Hermit—Beauty of +Teesdale—Egliston Abbey—The Artist and his Wife—Dotheboys Hall—Rokeby—Greta +Bridge—Mortham Tower—Brignall Banks—A Pilgrimage +to Wycliffe—Fate of the Inns—The Felon Sow—A Journey +by Omnibus—Lartington—Cotherstone—Scandinavian Traces—Romaldkirk—Middleton-in-Teesdale—Wild +Scenery—High Force Inn—The +voice of the Fall</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_136">136</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Early Morn—High Force—Rock and Water—A Talk with the Waitress—Hills +and Cottages—Cronkley Scar—The Weel—Caldron Snout—Soothing +Sound—Scrap from an Album—View into Birkdale—A Quest +for Dinner—A Westmoreland Farm—Household Matters—High Cope +Nick—Mickle Fell—The Boys’ Talk—The Hill-top—Glorious Prospect—A +Descent—Solitude and Silence—A Moss—Stainmore—Brough—The +Castle Ruin—Reminiscences</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Return into Yorkshire—The Old Pedlar—Oh! for the Olden Time—“The +Bible, indeed!”—An Emissary—Wild Boar Fell—Shunnor +Fell—Mallerstang—The Eden—A Mountain Walk—Tan Hill—Brown +Landscape—A School wanted—Swaledale—From Ling to Grass—A +Talk with Lead Miners—Stonesdale—Work for a Missionary—Thwaite—A +Jolly Landlord—A Ruined Town—The School at Muker—A +Nickname—Buttertubs Pass—View into Wensleydale—Lord +Wharncliffe’s Lodge—Simonstone—Hardraw Scar—Geological Phenomenon—A +Frozen Cone—Hawes</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Bainbridge—“If you had wanted a wife”—A Ramble—Millgill Force—Whitfell +Force—A Lovely Dell—The Roman Camp—The Forest Horn, +and the old Hornblower—Haymaking—A Cockney Raker—Wensleydale +Scythemen—A Friend indeed—Addleborough—Curlews and Grouse—The +First Teapot—Nasty Greens—The Prospect—Askrigg—Bolton +Castle—Penhill—Middleham—Miles Coverdale’s Birthplace—Jervaux +Abbey—Moses’s Principia—Nappa Hall—The Metcalfes—The Knight +and the King—The Springs—Spoliation of the Druids—The great +Cromlech—Legend—An ancient Village—Simmer Water—An advice +for Anglers—More Legends—Counterside—Money-Grubbers—Widdale—Newby +Head</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">About Gimmer Hogs—Gearstones—Source of the Ribble—Weathercote +Cave—An Underground Waterfall—A Gem of a Cave—Jingle Pot—The +Silly Ducks—Hurtle Pool—The Boggart—A Reminiscence of the +Doctor—Chapel-le-Dale—Remarkable Scenery—Ingleborough—Ingleton—Craven—Young +Daniel Dove, and Long Miles—Clapham—Ingleborough +Cave—Stalactite and Stalagmite—Marvellous Spectacle—Pillar +Hall—Weird Music—Treacherous Pools—The Abyss—How +Stalactite forms—The Jockey Cap—Cross Arches—The Long Gallery—The +Giant’s Hall—Mysterious Waterfall—A Trouty Beck—The Bar-Parlour—A +Bradford Spinner</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_177">177</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">By Rail to Skipton—A Stony Town—Church and Castle—The Cliffords—Wharfedale—Bolton +Abbey—Picturesque Ruins—A Foot-Bath—Scraps +from Wordsworth—Bolton Park—The Strid—Barden Tower—The +Wharfe—The Shepherd Lord—Reading to Grandfather—A Cup of +Tea—Cheerful Hospitality—Trout Fishing—Gale Beck—Symon Seat—A +Real Entertainer—Burnsall—A Drink of Porter—Immoralities—Threshfield—Kilnsey—The +Crag—Kettlewell—A Primitive Village—Great +Whernside—Starbottom—Buckden—Last View of Wharfedale—Cray—Bishopdale—A +Pleasant Lane—Bolton Castle—Penhill—Aysgarth—Dead +Pastimes—Decrease of Quakers—Failure of a Mission—Why +and Wherefore—Aysgarth Force—Drunken Barnaby—Inroad of +Fashion</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">A Walk—Carperby—Despotic Hay-time—Bolton Castle—The Village—Queen +Mary’s Prison—Redmire—Scarthe Nick—Pleasing Landscape—Halfpenny +House—Hart-Leap Well—View into Swaledale—Richmond—The +Castle—Historic Names—The Keep—St. Martin’s Cell—Easby +Abbey—Beautiful Ruins—King Arthur and Sleeping Warriors—Ripon—View +from the Minster Tower—Archbishop Wilfrid—The +Crypt—The Nightly Horn—To Studley—Surprising Trick—Robin +Hood’s Well—Fountains Abbey—Pop goes the Weasel—The Ruins—Robin +Hood and the Curtall Friar—To Thirsk—The Ancient Elm—Epitaphs</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Sutton: a pretty Village—The Hambleton Hills—Gormire Lake—Zigzags—A +Table-Land—Boy and Bull Pup—Skawton—Ryedale—Rievaulx +Abbey—Walter L’Espec—A Charming Ruin—The Terrace—The +Pavilion—Helmsley—T’ Boos—Kirkby Moorside—Helmsley Castle—A +River swallowed—Howardian Hills—Oswaldkirk—Gilling—Fairfax +Hall—Coxwold—Sterne’s Residence—York—The Minster Tower—Yorke, +Yorke, for my monie—The Four Bars—The City Walls—The +Ouse Legend—Yorkshire Philosophical Society—Ruins and +Antiquities—St. Mary’s Lodge</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">By Rail to Leeds—Kirkstall Abbey—Valley of the Aire—Flight to Settle—Giggleswick—Drunken +Barnaby again—Nymph and Satyr—The +astonished Bagman—What do they Addle?—View from Castleber—George +Fox’s Vision on Pendle Hill—Walk to Maum—Companions—Horse +versus Scenery—Talk by the Way—Little Wit, muckle Work—Malham +Tarn—Ale for Recompense—Malham—Hospitality—Gordale +Scar—Scenery versus Horse—Trap for Trout—A Brookside Musing—Malham +Grove—Source of the Aire—To Keighley</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_226">226</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Keighley—Men in Pinafores—Walk to Haworth—Charlotte Brontė’s +Birthplace—The Church—The Pew—The Tombstone—The Marriage +Register—Shipley—Saltaire—A Model Town—Household Arrangements—I +isn’t the Gaffer—A Model Factory—Acres of Floors—Miles +of Shafting—Weaving Shed—Thirty Thousand Yards a Day—Cunning +machinery—First Fleeces—Shipley Feast—Scraps of Dialect—To Bradford—Rival +Towns—Yorkshire Sleuth-hounds—Die like a Britoner</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Bradford’s Fame—Visit to Warehouses—A Smoky Prospect—Ways and +Means of Trade—What John Bull likes—What Brother Jonathan likes—Vulcan’s +Head-quarters—Cleckheaton—Heckmondwike—Busy +Traffic—Mirfield—Robin Hood’s Grave—Batley the Shoddyopolis—All +the World’s Tatters—Aspects of Batley—A Boy capt—The Devil’s Den—Grinding +Rags—Mixing and Oiling—Shoddy and Shoddy—Tricks +with Rags—The Scribbling Machine—Short Flocks, Long Threads—Spinners +and Weavers—Dyeing, Dressing, and Pressing—A Moral in +Shoddy—A surprise of Real Cloth—Iron, Lead, and Coal—To Wakefield—A +Disappointment—The Old Chapel—The Battle-field—To +Barnsley—Bairnsla Dialect—Sheffield</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify">Clouds of Blacks—What Sheffield was and is—A detestable Town—Razors +and Knives—Perfect Work, Imperfect Workmen—Foul Talk—How +Files are made—Good Iron, Good Steel—Breaking-up and +Melting—Making the Crucibles—Casting—Ingots—File Forgers—Machinery +Baffled—Cutting the Teeth—Hardening—Cleaning and +Testing—Elliott’s Statue—A Ramble to the Corn-Law Rhymer’s +Haunt—Rivelin—Bilberry gatherers—Ribbledin—The Port’s Words—A +Desecration—To Manchester—A few Words on the Exhibition</td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="center pad1">CHAPTER XXIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent justify"><span class="smcap">A Short Chapter to end with</span></td> +<td class="ralign vbot"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<p class="x-large gap4 center"><b>A MONTH IN YORKSHIRE.</b></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /> + +<span class="smaller">A SHORT CHAPTER TO BEGIN WITH.</span></h2> + +<p>I had cheerful recollections of Yorkshire. My first lessons +in self-reliance and long walks were learned in that county. +I could not forget how, fresh from the south, I had been as +much astonished at the tall, stalwart forms of the men, their +strange rustic dialect and rough manners, as by their hearty +hospitality. Nor could I fail to remember the contrast +between the bleak outside of certain farm-houses and the +rude homely comfort inside, where a ruddy turf fire glowed +on the hearth, and mutton hams, and oaten bread, and store +of victual burdened the racks of the kitchen ceiling. Nor +the generous entertainment of more than one old hostess in +little roadside public-houses, who, when I arrived at nightfall, +weary with travel, would have me sit at the end of the +high-backed settle nearest the fire, or in the ‘neukin’ under +the great chimney, and bustle about with motherly kindness +to get tea ready; who, before I had eaten the first pile of +cakes, would bring a second, with earnest assurance that a +“growing lad” could never eat too much; who talked so +sympathisingly during the evening—I being at times the only +guest—wondering much that I should be so far away from +home: had I no friends? where was I going? and the like; +who charged me only eighteenpence for tea, bed, and breakfast, +and once slily thrust into my pocket, at parting, a couple +of cakes, which I did not discover till half way across a snow-drifted +moor, where no house was in sight for many miles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +All this, and much more which one does not willingly forget, +haunted my memory.</p> + +<p>The wild scenery of the fells, the tame agricultural region, +and the smoky wapentakes, where commerce erects more +steeples than religion, were traversed during my rambles. +While wandering in the neighbourhood of Keighley, I had +seen Charlotte Brontė’s birthplace, long before any one +dreamed that she would one day flash as a meteor upon the +gaze of the “reading public.” Rosebury Topping had become +familiar to me in the landscapes of Cleveland, and now a +desire possessed me to get on the top of that magnificent +cone. In the villages round about its base I had shared the +pepper-cake of Christmas-tide; and falling in with the ancient +custom prevalent along the eastern coast from Humber to +Tyne, had eaten fried peas on Carlin Sunday—Mid-Lent of +the calendar—ere the discovery of that mineral wealth, now +known to exist in such astonishing abundance, that whether +the British coal-fields will last long enough or not to smelt all +the ironstone of Cleveland, is no longer a question with a +chief of geologists. I had mused in the ruin where Richard +the Second was cruelly murdered, at Pontefract; had looked +with proper surprise at the Dropping Well, at Knaresborough, +and into St. Robert’s Cave, the depository of Eugene Aram’s +terrible secret; had walked into Wakefield, having scarcely +outlived the fond belief that there the Vicar once dwelt with +his family; and when the guard pointed out the summits as +the coach rolled past on the way from Skipton to Kirkby +Lonsdale, had no misgivings as to the truth of the saying:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Penigent, Whernside, and Ingleborough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the three highest hills all England thorough.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Unawares, in some instances, I had walked across battlefields, +memorable alike in the history of the county, and of +the kingdom; where marauding Scots, dissolute Hainaulters, +Plantagenets and Tudors, Cavalier and Roundhead had rushed +to the onslaught. Marston Moor awoke the proudest emotions, +notwithstanding my schoolboy recollections of what +David Hume had written thereupon; while Towton was something +to wonder at, as imagination flew back to the time when</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Palm Sunday chimes were chiming<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All gladsome thro’ the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And village churls and maidens<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knelt in the church at pray’r;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Red Rose and the White Rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In furious battle reel’d;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yeomen fought like barons,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And barons died ere yield.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When mingling with the snow-storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The storm of arrows flew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And York against proud Lancaster<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His ranks of spearmen threw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thunder-like the uproar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outshook from either side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As hand to hand they battled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From morn to eventide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the river ran all gory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in hillocks lay the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seven and thirty thousand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fell for the White and Red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When o’er the Bar of Micklegate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They changed each ghastly head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set Lancaster upon the spikes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where York had bleached and bled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There still wild roses growing—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Frail tokens of the fray—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hedgerow green bear witness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Towton field that day.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Did the decrepit old shambles, roofed with paving-flags, +still encumber the spacious market-place at Thirsk? Did the +sexton at Ripon Minster still deliver his anatomical lecture in +the grim bone-house, and did the morality of that sedate town +still accord with the venerable adage, “as true steel as Ripon +rowels?” Was York still famous for muffins, or Northallerton +for quoits, cricket, and spell-and-nurr? and was its beer +as good as when Bacchus held a court somewhere within sight +of the three Ridings, and asked one of his attendants where +that new drink, “strong and mellow,” was to be found? and</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The boon good fellow answered, ‘I can tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">North-Allerton, in Yorkshire, doth excel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All England, nay, all Europe, for strong ale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thither we adjourn we shall not fail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To taste such humming stuff, as I dare say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your Highness never tasted to this day.’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hence, when the summer sun revived my migratory +instinct, I inclined to ramble once more in Yorkshire. There +would be no lack of the freshness of new scenes, for my former +wanderings had not led me to the coast, nor to the finest +of the old abbeys—those ruins of wondrous beauty, nor to the +remote dales where crowding hills abound with the pictur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>esque. +Here was novelty enough, to say nothing of the +people and their ways, and the manifold appliances and results +of industry which so eminently distinguish the county, and +the grand historical associations of the metropolitan city, once +the “other Rome,” of which the old rhymester says—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Let London still the just precedence claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">York ever shall be proud to be the next in fame.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I was curious, moreover, to observe whether the peculiar +dialect or the old habits were dying out quite so rapidly as +some social and political economists would have us believe.</p> + +<p>Quaint old Fuller, among the many nuggets imbedded in +his pages, has one which implies that Yorkshire being the +biggest is therefore the best county in England. You may +take six from the other thirty-nine counties, and put them +together, and not make a territory so large as Yorkshire. +The population of the county numbers nearly two millions. +When within it you find the distances great from one extremity +to the other, and become aware of the importance +involved in mere dimensions. In no county have Briton, +Roman, and Dane left more evident traces, or history more +interesting waymarks. Speed says of it: “She is much +bound to the singular love and motherly care of Nature, in +placing her under so temperate a clime, that in every measure +she is indifferently fruitful. If one part of her be stone, +and a sandy barren ground, another is fertile and richly +adorned with corn-fields. If you here find it naked and destitute +of woods, you shall see it there shadowed with forests +full of trees, that have very thick bodies, sending forth many +fruitful and profitable branches. If one place of it be moorish, +miry, and unpleasant, another makes a free tender of +delight, and presents itself to the eye full of beauty and contentive +variety.”</p> + +<p>Considering, furthermore, that for two years in succession +I had seen the peasantry in parts of the north and south of +Europe, and had come to the conclusion (under correction, for +my travel is brief) that the English labourer, with his weekly +wages, his cottage and garden, is better off than the peasant +proprietor of Germany and Tyrol,—considering this, I wished +to prove my conclusion, and therefore started hopefully for +Yorkshire.</p> + +<p>And again, does not Emerson say, “a wise traveller will +naturally choose to visit the best of actual nations.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Estuary of the Humber—Sunk Island—Land <i>versus</i> Water—Dutch Phenomena—Cleathorpes—Grimsby—Paul—River +Freaks—Mud—Stukeley and +Drayton—Fluvial Parliament—Hull—The Thieves’ Litany—Docks and +Drainage—More Dutch Phenomena—The High Church—Thousands of Piles—The +Citadel—The Cemetery—A Countryman’s Voyage to China—An Aid +to Macadam.</p> + +<p>As the <i>Vivid</i> steamed past the Spurn lighthouse, I looked +curiously at the low sandy spit on which the tall red tower +stands, scarcely as it seems above the level of the water, +thinking that my first walk would perhaps lead thither. At +sight of the Pharos, and of the broad estuary alive with +vessels standing in, the Yorkshiremen on board felt their +patriotism revive, and one might have fancied there was a +richer twang in their speech than had been perceptible in the +latitude of London. A few who rubbed their hands and +tried to look hearty, vowed that their future travels should +not be on the sea. The <i>Vivid</i> is not a very sprightly boat, +but enjoys or not, as the case may be, a reputation for safety, +and for sleeping-cabins narrower and more stifling than any I +ever crept into. But one must not expect too much when the +charge for a voyage of twenty-six hours is only six and sixpence +in the chief cabin.</p> + +<p>Not without reason does old Camden remark of the +Humber, “it is a common rendezvous for the greatest part +of the rivers hereabouts,” for it is a noble estuary, notwithstanding +that water and shore are alike muddy. It is nearly +forty miles long, with a width of more than two miles down +to about three leagues from the lighthouse, where it widens to +six or seven miles, offering a capacious entrance to the sea. +The water has somewhat of an unctuous appearance, as if +overcharged with contributions of the very fattest alluvium<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +from all parts of Yorkshire. The results may be seen on the +right, as we ascend. There spreads the broad level of Sunk +Island, a noteworthy example of dry land produced by the +co-operation of natural causes and human industry. The +date of its first appearance above the water is not accurately +known; but in the reign of Charles II. it was described as +three thousand five hundred acres of “drowned ground,” +of which seven acres were enclosed by embankments; and +was let at five pounds a year. A hundred years later fifteen +hundred acres were under cultivation, producing a yearly +rental of seven hundred pounds to the lessee; but he, it is +said, made but little profit, because of the waste and loss +occasioned by failure of the banks and irruptions of the tides. +In 1802 the island reverted to the Crown, and was re-let on +condition that all the salt marsh—nearly three thousand acres—which +was “ripe for embankment,” should be taken in, +and that a church and proper houses should be built, to +replace the little chapel and five cottages which ministered as +little to the edification as to the comfort of the occupants. +In 1833 the lease once more fell in, and the Woods and +Forests, wisely ignoring the middlemen, let the lands directly +to the ‘Sunk farmers,’ as they are called in the neighbourhood, +and took upon themselves the construction and maintenance +of the banks. A good road was made, and bridges were +built to connect the Island with the main, and as the accumulations +of alluvium still went on, another ‘intake’ became +possible in 1851, and now there are nearly 7000 acres, +comprising twenty-three farms, besides a few small holdings, +worth more than 12,000<i>l.</i> of annual rent. It forms a parish +of itself, and not a neglected one; for moral reclamation is +cared for as well as territorial. The clergyman has a sufficient +stipend; the parishioners supplemented the grants made by +Government and the Council of Education, and have now a +good schoolhouse and a competent schoolmaster.</p> + +<p>The Island will continue to increase in extent and value as +long as the same causes continue to operate; and who shall +set limits to them? Already the area is greater than that +described in the last report of the Woods and Forests, which +comprehends only the portion protected by banks. The land +when reclaimed is singularly fertile, and free from stones, and +proves its quality in the course of three or four years, by producing +spontaneously a rich crop of white clover. Another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +fact, interesting to naturalists, was mentioned by Mr. Oldham +in a report read before the British Association, at their meeting +in Hull. “When the land, or rather mud-bank, has +nearly reached the usual surface elevation, the first vegetable +life it exhibits is that of samphire, then of a very thin wiry +grass, and after this some other varieties of marine grass; and +when the surface is thus covered with vegetation, the land +may at once be embanked; but if it is enclosed from the tide +before it obtains a green carpet, it may be for twenty years of +but little value to agriculture, for scarcely anything will grow +upon it.”</p> + +<p>This is not the only place on the eastern coast where we +may see artificial land, and banks, dikes, and other defences +against the water such as are commonly supposed to be peculiar +to the Netherlands.</p> + +<p>The windows of Cleathorpes twinkling afar in the morning +sun, reveal the situation of a watering-place on the opposite +shore much frequented by Lincolnshire folk. Beyond rises +the tall and graceful tower of Grimsby Docks, serving at once +as signal tower and reservoir of the water-power by which +the cranes and other apparatus are worked, and ships laden +and unladen with marvellous celerity. These docks cover a +hundred acres of what a few years ago was a great mud-flat, +and are a favourable specimen of what can be accomplished +by the overhasty enterprise of the present day. Grimsby on +her side of the river now rivals Hull on the other, with the +advantage of being nearer the sea, whereby some miles of +navigation are avoided.</p> + +<p>Turning to the right again we pass Foul Holme Sand, a +long narrow spit, covered at half-tide, which some day may +become reclaimable. A little farther and there is the church +of Paghill or Paul, standing on a low hill so completely +isolated from the broken village to which it belongs, that the +distich runs:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“High Paul, and Low Paul, Paul, and Paul Holme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was never a fair maid married in Paul town.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The vessel urges her way onwards across swirls and eddies +innumerable which betray the presence of shoals and the +vigorous strife of opposing currents. The spring tides rise +twenty-two feet, and rush in with a stream at five miles an +hour, noisy and at times dangerous, churning the mud and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +shifting it from one place to another, to the provocation of +pilots. It is mostly above Hull that the changes take place, +and there they are so sudden and rapid that a pilot may find +the channel by which he had descended shifted to another +part of the river on his return a few days afterwards. There +also islands appear and disappear in a manner truly surprising, +and in the alternate loss or gain of the shores may be witnessed +the most capricious of phenomena. Let one example +suffice: a field of fourteen acres, above Ferriby, was reduced +to less than four acres in twenty years, although the farmer +during that time had constructed seven new banks for the +defence of his land.</p> + +<p>Some notion of the enormous quantity of mud which enters +the great river may be formed from the fact that fifty thousand +tons of mud have been dredged in one year from the docks +and basins at Hull. The steam-dredge employed in the work +lifts fifty tons of mud in an hour, pours it into lighters, which +when laden drop down with the tide, and discharge their +slimy burden in certain parts of the stream, where, as is said, +it cannot accumulate.</p> + +<p>Stukely, who crossed the estuary during one of his itineraries, +remarks: “Well may the Humber take its name from +the noise it makes. My landlord, who is a sailor, says in a +high wind ’tis incredibly great and terrible, like the crash and +dashing together of ships.” The learned antiquary alludes +probably to the bore, or ager as it is called, which rushes up +the stream with so loud a <i>hum</i> that the popular mind seeks no +other derivation for Humber. Professor Phillips, in his admirable +book on Yorkshire, cites the Gaelic word <i>Comar</i>, a +confluence of two or more waters, as the origin; and Dr. +Latham suggests that Humber may be the modified form of +Aber or Inver. Drayton, in <i>Polyolbion</i>, chants of a tragical +derivation; and as I take it for granted, amicable reader, that +you do not wish to travel in a hurry, we will pause for a few +minutes to listen to the debate of the rivers, wherein “thus +mighty Humber speaks:”</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“My brave West Riding brooks, your king you need not scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud Naiades neither ye, North Riders that are born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My yellow-sanded Your, and thou my sister Swale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dancing come to Ouse, thro’ many a dainty dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do greatly me enrich, clear Derwent driving down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Cleveland; and thou Hull, that highly dost renown,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th’ East Riding by thy rise, do homage to your king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let the sea-nymphs thus of mighty Humber sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That full an hundred floods my wat’ry court maintain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which either of themselves, or in their greater’s train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tribute pay to me; and for my princely name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Humber king of Hunns, as anciently it came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So still I stick to him: for from that Eastern king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once in me drown’d, as I my pedigree do bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So his great name receives no prejudice thereby;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as he was a king, so know ye all that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am king of all the floods, that North of Trent do flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let the idle world no more such cost bestow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor of the muddy Nile so great a wonder make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though with her bellowing fall, she violently take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The neighbouring people deaf; nor Ganges so much praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That where he narrowest is, eight miles in broadness lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bosom; nor so much hereafter shall be spoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that (but lately found) Guianian Oronoque,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose cataract a noise so horrible doth keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it even Neptune frights: what flood comes to the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Humber that is heard more horribly to roar?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when my Higre comes, I make my either shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even tremble with the sound, that I afar do send.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The view of Hull seen from the water is much more smoky +than picturesque. Coming nearer we see the <i>Cornwallis</i> +anchored off the citadel, looking as trim and earnest as one +fancies an English seventy-four ought to look, and quite in +keeping with the embrasured walls through which guns are +peeping on shore. The quay and landing-places exhibit multifarious +signs of life, especially if your arrival occur when +the great railway steam-ferry-boat is about to start. There +is, however, something about Hull which inspires a feeling of +melancholy. This was my third visit, and still the first impression +prevailed. It may be the dead level, or the sleepy +architecture, or the sombre colour, or a combination of the +three, that touches the dismal key. “Memorable for mud +and train oil” was what Etty always said of the town in +which he served an apprenticeship of seven weary years; +yet in his time there remained certain picturesque features +which have since disappeared with the large fleet of Greenland +whale-ships whereof the town was once so proud:—now +migrated to Peterhead. However, we must not forget that +Hull is the third port in the kingdom; that nearly a hundred +steamers arrive and depart at regular intervals from over sea, +or coastwise, or from up the rivers; that of the 4000 tons of +German yeast now annually imported, worth nearly £200,000, +it receives more than two-thirds; that it was one of the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +places to demonstrate the propulsion of vessels by the power +of steam. Nor will we forget that we are in one of the +towns formerly held in wholesome dread by evil-doers when +recommendation to mercy was seldom heard of, as is testified +by the thieves’ litany of the olden time, thus irreverently +phrased:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“From Hull, Hell, and Halifax,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good Lord deliver us.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Halifax, however, stood pre-eminent for sharp practice; a +thief in that parish had no chance of stealing twice, for if he +stole to the value of thirteenpence halfpenny, he was forthwith +beheaded.</p> + +<p>Andrew Marvell need not have been so severe upon the +Dutch, considering how much there was in his native county +similar in character and aspect to that which he satirised. +You soon discover that this character still prevails. Is not +the southern landing place of the steam-ferry named New +Holland? and here in Hull, whichever way you look, you +see masts, and are stopped by water or a bridge half open, or +just going to open, whichever way you walk. It is somewhat +puzzling at first; but a few minutes’ survey from the top of +the High Church affords an explanation.</p> + +<p>Following the line once occupied by the old fortifications—the +walls by which Parliament baffled the king—the docks +form a continuous water-communication from the river Hull +on one side to the Humber on the other, so that a considerable +portion of the town has become an island, and the sight +of masts and pennons in all directions, some slowly moving, +is accounted for. At the opening of the Junction Dock in +1829, whereby the desired connection was established, the +celebration included circumnavigation of the insular portion +by a gaily decorated steamer.</p> + +<p>The amphibious Dutch-looking physiognomy thus produced +is further assisted by the presence of numerous windmills in +the outskirts, and the levelness of the surrounding country. +A hundred years ago, and the view across what is now cultivated +fields would have comprehended as much water as land, +if not more. Should a certain popular authoress ever publish +her autobiography, she will, perhaps, tell us how Mr. Stickney, +her father, used when a boy to skate three or four miles to +school over unreclaimed flats within sight of this church<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +tower of Hull, now rich in grass and grain. Only by a +system of drainage and embankment on a great scale, and +a careful maintenance, has the reclamation of this and other +parts of Holderness been accomplished. Taylor, the water-poet, +who was here in 1632, records,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“It yearly costs five hundred pounds besides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fence the towne from Hull and Humber’s tydes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For stakes, for bavins, timber, stones, and piles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All which are brought by water many miles;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For workmen’s labour, and a world of things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which on the towne excessive charges brings.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>British liberty owes something to this superabundance of +water. Hull was the first town in the kingdom to shut its +gates against the king and declare for the people, and was +in consequence besieged by Charles. In this strait, Sir John +Hotham, the governor, caused the dikes to be cut and sluices +drawn, and laid the whole neighbourhood under water, and +kept the besiegers completely at bay. The Royalists, to +retaliate, dug trenches to divert the stream of fresh water +that supplied the town,—a means of annoyance to which +Hull, from its situation, was always liable. In the good old +times, when the neighbouring villagers had any cause of +quarrel with the townsfolk, they used to throw carrion and +other abominations into the channel, or let in the salt-water, +nor would they desist until warned by a certain Pope in an +admonitory letter.</p> + +<p>The church itself, dedicated to the Holy Trinity, is a +handsome specimen of florid Gothic, dating from the reign +of Edward II. You will perhaps wish that the effect of the +light tall columns, rising to the blue panelled roof, were not +weakened by the somewhat cold and bare aspect of the interior. +If you are curious about bells, there are inscriptions +to be deciphered on some of those that hang in the tower; +and in the belfry you may see mysterious tables hanging on +the wall of ‘grandsire bobs,’ and ‘grandsire tripples;’ +things in which the ringers take pride, but as unintelligible +to the uninitiated as Babylonish writing. There, too, hangs +the ringers’ code of laws, and a queer code it is! One of +the articles runs:—“Every Person who shall Ring any Bell +with his Hat or Spurs on, shall Forfeit and Pay Sixpence, +for the Use of the Ringers.” And the same fine is levied +from “any Person who shall have Read Any of these Orders<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +with his Hat upon his Head;” from which, and the characteristic +touches in the other “orders,” you will very likely +come to some strange conclusions respecting the fraternity of +ringers.</p> + +<p>The market-place is in the main street, where a gilt equestrian +statue of William III. looks down on stalls of fruit, +fish, and seaweed, and the moving crowd of townsfolk and +sailors. By the side of the Humber dock rises the Wilberforce +monument, a tall column, bearing on its capital a statue +of the renowned advocate of the negroes. And when you +have looked at these and at the hospital, and walked through +the garrison, you will have visited nearly all that is monumental +in Hull.</p> + +<p>At low water, the little river Hull is a perfect representation +of a very muddy ditch. While crossing the ferry to the +citadel, the old boatman told me he could remember when +every high tide flowed up into the streets of the town, but the +new works for the docks now keep the water out. Hundreds +of piles were driven into the sandy bank to establish a firm +foundation for the massive walls, quays, and abutments. At +the time when timber rose to an enormous price in consequence +of Napoleon’s continental blockade, the piles of the coffer-dam +which had been buried seven years, were pulled up and sold +for more than their original cost. Government gave the site +of some old military works and 10,000<i>l.</i> towards the formation +of the first dock, on condition that it should be made deep +enough to receive ships of fifty guns.</p> + +<p>In records of the reign of Henry VIII. there appears—“Item: +the Kinges Ma’tes house to be made to serve as a +Sitidell and a speciall kepe of the hole town.” The present +citadel has an antiquated look, and quiet withal, for the whole +garrison, at the time I walked through it, numbered only +twenty-five artillerymen. Judging from my own experience, +one part of the sergeant’s duty is to shout at inquisitive +strangers who get up on the battery to look through an embrasure, +and the more vehemently as they feign not to hear +till their curiosity is satisfied. There is room in the magazines +for twenty thousand stand of arms, and ordnance stores +for a dozen ships of the line. A ditch fed from the Hull +completely separates the fortifications from the neighbouring +ship-yards.</p> + +<p>Half a day’s exploration led me to the conclusion that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +most cheerful quarter of Hull is the cemetery. I was sitting +there on a grassy bank enjoying the breeze, when a countryman +came up who perhaps felt lonely, for he sat down by my +side, and in less than a minute became autobiographical. He +was a village carpenter, “came forty mile out of Lincolnshire” +for the benefit of his health; had been waiting three days for +his brother’s ship, in which he meant to take a voyage to +China, and feeling dull walked every day to the cemetery; +for, he said, “It’s the pleasantest place I can find about the +town.” I suggested reading as a relief; but he “couldn’t +make much out o’readin’—’ud rather work the jack-plane all +day than read.” The long voyage to China appeared to offer +so good an opportunity for improving himself in this particular +that I urged him to take a few books on board, and gave an +assurance that one hour’s study every day would enable him +to read with pleasure by the time he returned.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but we be on’y three days a-going,” he answered.</p> + +<p>I had played the part of an adviser to no purpose, for it +appeared, on further questioning, that his brother’s ship was +a small sloop trading to some port beyond the North Sea +about three days distant; he did not know where it was, but +was sure his brother called it China. I mentioned the names +of all the ports I could think of to discover the real one if +possible, but in vain; nor have I yet found one that has the +sound of China.</p> + +<p>One thing I saw on my way back to the town, which +London—so apt to be self-conceited—might adopt with signal +advantage. It was a huge iron roller drawn by horses up and +down a newly macadamised road. Under the treatment of +the ponderous cylinder, the broken stone, combined with a +sprinkling of asphalte, is reduced to a firm and level surface, +over which vehicles travel without any of that distressing +labour and loss of time and temper so often witnessed in the +metropolis, where a thousand pair of wheels produce less +solidity in a week than the roller would in a day; especially +on the spongy roads presided over by St. Pancras.</p> + +<p>Late in the evening, while walking about the streets, even +in the principal thoroughfares, I saw evidences enough of—to +use a mild adjective—an unpolished population. The +northern characteristics were strongly marked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">A Railway Trip—More Land Reclamation—Hedon—Historical Recollections—Burstwick—The +Earls of Albemarle—Keyingham—The Duke of York—Winestead—Andrew +Marvell’s Birthplace—A Glimpse of the Patriot—Patrington—A +Church to be proud of—The Hildyard Arms—Feminine +Paper-hangers—Walk to Spurn—Talk with a Painter—Welwick—Yellow +Ochre and Cleanliness—Skeffling—Humber Bank—Miles of Mud—Kilnsea—Burstall +Garth—The Greedy Sea—The Sandbank—A Lost Town, Ravenser +Odd—A Reminiscence from Shakspeare—The Spurn Lighthouse—Withernsea—Owthorne—Sister +Churches—The Ghastly Churchyard—A +Retort for a Fool—A Word for Philologists.</p> + +<p>By the first train on the morrow I started for Patrington. +The windmills on the outskirts of the town were soon left +behind, and away we went between the thick hedgerows and +across the teeming fields, which, intersected by broad deep +drains, and grazed by sleek cattle, exhibit at once to your +eye the peculiarities of Holderness. All along between the +railway and the river there are thousands of acres, formerly +called the ‘out-marshes,’ which have been reclaimed, and +now yield wonderful crops of oats. After the principal bank +has been constructed, the tide is let in under proper control +to a depth of from three to five feet, and is left undisturbed +until all the mud held in suspension is deposited. The impoverished +flood is then discharged through the sluices, and +in due time, after the first has stiffened, a fresh flow is admitted. +By this process of ‘warping,’ as it is called, three or +four feet of mud will be thrown down in three years, covering +the original coarse, sour surface with one abounding in the +elements of fertility. Far inland, even up the Trent, and +around the head of the Humber within reach of the tide, the +farmers have recourse to warping, and not unfrequently +prefer a fresh layer of mud to all other fertilisers.</p> + +<p>About every two miles we stop at a station, and at each +there is something to be noted and remembered. Hedon, a dull +decayed town, now two miles from the river, once the commercial +rival of Hull, has something still to be proud of in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +its noble church, “the pride of Holderness.” Here, too, +within a fence, stands the ancient cross, which, after several +removals, as the sea devoured its original site—a royal adventurer’s +landing-place—found here a permanent station. +At Burstwick, two miles farther, lay the estates, the <i>caput +baronię</i>, of the renowned Earls of Albemarle. A few minutes +more and another stop reminds us of Keyingham bridge, +where a party of the men of Holderness opposed the passage +of Edward IV. with his three hundred Flemings, some carrying +strange fire-weapons, until he replied to their resolute +question that he had only come to claim his dukedom of York. +A “dukedom large enough” for a wise man. And, as tradition +tells, Keyingham church was the scene of a miracle in +1392, when all the doors were split by a lightning-stroke, and +the tomb of Master Philip Ingleberd, formerly rector, sweated +a sweetly-scented oil, perhaps out of gratitude to the patron +saint for the escape of thirteen men who fell all at once with +the ladder while seeking to put out the fire in the steeple, +and came to no harm. Then Winestead, which was, if the +parish-register may be believed, the birthplace of Andrew +Marvell—not Hull, as is commonly reported of the incorruptible +Yorkshire man. His father was rector here, but removed +to Hull during the poet’s infancy, which may account for the +error. The font in which he was christened having fallen +into neglect, was used as a horse-trough, until some good antiquary +removed it into the grounds of Mr. Owst, at Keyingham, +where it remains safe among other relics. Andrew +represented Hull in parliament for twenty years, and was the +last member who, according to old usage, received payment +for his services. One’s thought kindles in thinking of him +here at this quiet village, as a friend of Milton, like him using +his gifts manfully and successfully in defence of the Englishman’s +birthright. What a happy little glimpse we get of him +in the lines—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Climb at court for me that will—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tottering favour’s pinnacle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All I seek is to lie still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Settled in some secret nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In calm leisure let me rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far off the public stage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass away my silent age.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, when without noise, unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have lived out all my span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall die without a groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An old honest countryman.”<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Then Patrington—erst Patrick’s town—one of those simple-looking +places which contrast agreeably with towns sophisticated +by the clamour and bustle of trade; and although a +few gas-lamps tell of innovation, a market not more than +once a fortnight upholds the authority of ancient usage. You +see nearly the whole of the town at once; a long, wide, quiet +street, terminated by a graceful spire, so graceful, indeed, that +it will allure you at once to the church from which it springs; +and what a feast for the eye awaits you! Truly the “pride +of Holderness” is not monopolised by Hedon. The style is +that which prevailed in the reign of Edward II., and is harmonious +throughout, from weathercock to door-sill. You will +walk round it again and again, admiring the beauty of its design +and proportion, pausing oft to contemplate the curious +carvings, and the octagonal spire springing lightly from flying +buttresses to a height of one hundred and ninety feet. The +gargoyles exhibit strange conceits; chiselled to represent +a fiddler—a bagpiper—a man holding a pig—a fiend griping +a terrified sinner—a lion thrusting his tongue out—and others +equally incongruous. How I wished the architect would come +to life for an hour to tell me what he meant by them, and by +certain full-length figures carved on the buttresses, which accord +so little with our modern sense of decency, much less +with the character of a religious house! Inside you find a +corresponding lightness and gracefulness, and similarly relieved +by a sprinkling of monsters. The east or ‘Ladye aisle’ contains +three chantry chapels; the ‘Easter sepulchre’ is a rare +specimen of the sculptor’s art, and the font hewn from a single +block of granite displays touches of a master hand. St. +Patrick’s church at Patrington is an edifice to linger in; an +example of beauty in architecture in itself worth a journey +to Yorkshire.</p> + +<p>There are relics, too, of an earlier age: embankments discovered +some feet below the present surface, fragments of +buildings, an altar, and other objects of especial interest to the +antiquary, for they mark Patrington as the site of a Roman +station. An important station, if the supposition be correct +that this was the Prętorium of Antoninus—the place where +some of the legions disembarked to subjugate the Brigantes.</p> + +<p>To eat breakfast under the sign of the <i>Hildyard Arms</i>—a +name, by the way, which preserves in a modified form the old +Saxon <i>Hildegarde</i>—seemed like connecting one’s-self with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +remote antiquity. The ancestors of the Hildyards were here +before the Conquest. One of the family, Sir Christopher, is +commemorated by a handsome monument in Winestead +church. The landlord, willing to entertain in more ways than +one, talked of the improvements that had taken place within +his remembrance. The railway was not one of them, for it +took away trade from the town, and deadened the market. +Visitors were but few, and most of those who came wondered +at seeing so beautiful a church in such an out-of-the-way +place. He could show me a garden near the churchyard +which was said to be the spot where the building-stone was +landed from boats; but the water had sunk away hundreds of +years ago. Patrington haven—a creek running up from the +Humber—had retreated from the town, and since the reclamation +of Sunk Island, required frequent dredging to clear it of +mud. The farmers in the neighbourhood were very well content +with the harvests now yielded by the land. In 1854 +some of them reaped “most wonderful crops.”</p> + +<p>I had seen a woman painting her door-posts, and asked him +whether that was recognised as women’s work in Patrington. +“Sure,” he answered, “all over the country too. Women do +the whitewashing, and painting, ay, and the paper-hanging. +Look at this room, now! My daughter put that up.”</p> + +<p>I did look, and saw that the pattern on the walls sloped +two or three inches from the perpendicular, whereby opposite +sides of the room appeared to be leaning in contrary directions. +However, I said nothing to disparage the damsel’s merits.</p> + +<p>From Patrington to Spurn the distance is thirteen miles. +Hoping to walk thither and back in the day, I snapped the +thread of the landlord’s talk, and set out for the lighthouse. +Presently I overtook a man, and we had not walked half a +mile together before I knew that he was a master-painter in a +small way at Patrington, now going to paper a room at Skeffling, +a village five miles off. To hear that he would get only +sixpence a piece for the hanging surprised me, for I thought +that nowhere out of London would any one be silly enough to +hang paper for a halfpenny a yard.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he rejoined, “there’s three in the trade at +Patrington, and then ’tis only the bettermost rooms that we +gets to do. The women does all the rest, and the painting besides. +That’s where it is. But ’taint such a very bad job as +I be going to. They finds their own paste, and there’s nine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +pieces to hang: that’ll give me four and sixpence; and then +I shall get my dinner, and my tea too, if I don’t finish too +soon. So it’ll be a pretty fair day’s work.” And yet the +chances were that he would have to wait six months for payment.</p> + +<p>We passed through Welwick—place of wells—a small, +clean village, with a small, squat church, with carvings sadly +mutilated on the outside, and inside, a handsome tomb. At +Plowland, near this, lived the Wrights, confederates in the +Gunpowder Plot. Nearly all the cottages are models of cleanliness; +the door-sill and step washed with yellow ochre, and +here and there you see through the open door that the walls of +the room inside are papered, and the little pictures and simple +ornaments all in keeping. You will take pleasure in these +indications, and perhaps believe them to be the result of an +affection for cleanliness. The walls of some of the houses and +farm-yards are built of pebbles—‘sea-cobbles,’ as they are +called—placed zigzag-wise, with a novel and pretty effect: +and the examples multiply as we get nearer the sea, where +they may be seen in the walls of the churches.</p> + +<p>At Skeffling the painter turned into a farm-house which +looked comfortably hospitable enough to put him at ease +regarding his dinner, and as if it had little need to take six +months’ credit for four and sixpence, while I turned from the +high-road into a track leading past the church—which, by the +way, has architectural features worthy examination—to the +coarse and swarthy flats where the distant view is hidden by +a great embankment that runs along their margin for miles. +Once on the top of this ‘Humber-bank,’ I met a lusty +breeze sweeping in from the sea, and had before me a singular +prospect—the bank itself stretching far as the eye can see +in a straight line to the east and west, covered with coarse +grass and patches of gray, thistle-like, sea-holly—<i>Eryngo +maritima</i>. Its outer sloop is loose sand falling away to the +damp line left by the tide, beyond which all is mud—a great +brown expanse outspread for miles. The tide being at its +lowest, only the tops of the masts of small vessels are to be +seen, moving, as it seems, mysteriously: the river itself is +hardly discernible. In places the mud lies smooth and slimy; +in others thickly rippled, or tossed into billows, as if the water +had stamped thereon an impression of all its moods. Fishermen +wade across it in huge boots from their boats to the firm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +beach, and dig down through it two or three feet to find stiff +holding-ground for their anchors.</p> + +<p>Yonder rises the lighthouse, surprisingly far, as it seems, +to seaward, at times half hidden by a thin, creeping haze. +And from Spurn to Sunk Island this whole northern shore is +of the same brown, monotonous aspect: a desert, where the +only living things are a few sea-birds, wheeling and darting +rapidly, their white wings flashing by contrast with the sad-coloured +shore.</p> + +<p>I walked along the top of the bank to Kilnsea, deceived +continually in my estimate of distance by the long dead level. +Here and there a drain pierces the bank, and reappears on the +outer side as a raised sewer, with its outlet beyond high-water +mark; and these constructions, as well as the waifs and strays—old +baskets and dead seagulls—cheat the eye strangely as to +their magnitude when first seen. At times, after a lashing +storm has swept off a few acres of the mud, the soil beneath +is found to be a mixture of peat and gravel, in which animal +and vegetable remains and curious antiquities are imbedded. +Now and then the relics are washed out, and show by their +character that they once belonged to Burstall Priory, a religious +house, despoiled by the sea before King Harry began +his Reformation. Burstall Garth, one of the pastures traversed +by the bank, preserves its name: the building itself has +utterly disappeared.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a gap occurs in the bank, showing where the +unruly tide has broken through. For some reason the mischief +was not repaired, but a new bank was constructed of chalk +and big pebbles, about a stone’s throw to the rear. A green, +slimy pool still lies in a hollow between the two.</p> + +<p>The entertainment at the <i>Crown and Anchor</i> at Kilnsea by +no means equals the expectations of a stranger who reads the +host’s aristocratic name—<i>Metforth Tennison</i>—over the door. +I found the bread poor; the cheese poorer; the beer poorest; +yet was content therewith, knowing that vicissitude is good +for a man. The place itself has a special interest, telling, so +to speak, its own history—a history of desolation. The wife, +pointing to the road passing between the house and the beach, +told me she remembered Kilnsea church standing at the +seaward end of the village, with as broad a road between it +and the edge of the cliff. But year by year, as from time +immemorial the sea advanced, the road, fields, pastures, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +cottages were undermined and melted away. Still the church +stood, and though it trembled as the roaring waves smote the +cliff beneath, and the wind howled around its unsheltered +walls, service was held within it up to 1823. In that year it +began to yield, the walls cracked, the floor sank, the windows +broke; sea-birds flew in and out, shrieking in the storm, until, +in 1826, one-half of the edifice tumbled into the sea, and the +other half followed in 1831. The chief portion of the village +stands on and near the cliff, but as the waste appears to be +greater there than elsewhere, houses are abandoned year by +year. In 1847, the <i>Blue Bell Inn</i> was five hundred and +thirty-four yards from the shore; of this quantity forty-three +yards were lost in the next six years. Kilnsea exists, therefore, +only as a diminished and diminishing parish, and in the +few scattered cottages near the bank of the Humber. The +old font was carried away from the church to Skeffling, where +it is preserved in the garden of the parsonage.</p> + +<p>Her reminiscences ended, the good woman talked of the +rough walking that lay before me. It was a wild place out +there, not often visited by strangers; but sometimes “wagon +loads o’ coontra foak cam’ to see t’ loights.” At one time, +as I have heard, a stage-coach used to do the journey for the +gratification of the curious.</p> + +<p>A short distance beyond the <i>Crown and Anchor</i> stands a +small lone cottage built of sea-cobbles, with a sandy garden +and potato-plot in front, and a sandy field, in which a thin, +stunted crop of rye was making believe to grow. Once past +this cottage, and all is a wild waste of sand, covered here +and there with reedy grass, among which you now and then +see a dusty pink convolvulus, struggling, as it were, to keep +alive a speck of beauty amid the barrenness. Here, as old +chronicles tell, the king once had ‘coningers,’ or rabbit-warrens, +and rabbits still burrow in the hillocks. Presently, +there is the wide open sea on your left, and you can mark the +waves rushing up on either side, hissing and thundering +against the low bank that keeps them apart.</p> + +<p>“A broad long sand in the shape of a spoon,” is the description +given of Spurn in a petition presented to parliament +nearly two hundred years ago; and, if we suppose the spoon +turned upside down, it still answers. It narrows and sinks as +it projects from the main shore for about two miles, and this +part being the weakest and most easily shifted by the rapid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +currents, is strengthened every few yards by rows of stakes +driven deeply in, and hurdle work. You see the effect in +the smooth drifts accumulated in the space between the barriers, +which only require to be planted with grass to become fixed. +As it is, the walking is laborious: you sink ankle-deep and +slide back at every step, unless you accept the alternative of +walking within the wash of the advancing wave. For a long +while the lighthouse appears to be as far off as ever.</p> + +<p>A little farther, and we are on a rugged embankment of +chalk: the ground is low on each side, and a large pond rests +in the hollow between us and the sea on the left, marking the +spot where, a few years ago, the sea broke through and made +a clean sweep all across the bank. Every tide washed it +wider and deeper, until at last the fishing-vessels used it as a +short cut in entering or departing from the river. The effect +of the breach would, in time, had a low-water channel been +established, have seriously endangered the shore of the estuary, +besides threatening destruction to the site of the lighthouse. +As speedily, therefore, as wind and weather would permit, +piles and stakes were driven in, and the gap was filled up +with big lumps of chalk brought from the quarry at Barton, +forming an embankment sloped on both sides, to render the +shock of the waves as harmless as possible. The trucks, rails, +and sleepers with which the work had been accomplished +were still lying on the sand, awaiting removal. Henceforth +measures of precaution will be taken in time, for a conservator +of the river has been appointed.</p> + +<p>The depth of the bay formed by the spoon appears to +increase more and more each time you look back. How vast +is the curve between this bank of chalk and the point where +we struck the shore from Skeffling! The far-spreading sands—or +rather mud—are known as the Trinity Dry Sands. At +this moment they are disappearing beneath the rising tide, +and you can easily see what thousands of acres might be +reclaimed were a barrier erected to keep out the water. +“Government have been talkin’ o’ doing it for years,” said a +fisherman to whom I talked at Kilnsea, “but ’taint begun +yet.”</p> + +<p>Desolate as is now the scene, it was once enlivened by the +dwellings of men and the stir of commerce. Off the spot +where we stand, there lay, five hundred years ago, a low +islet, accessible by a flat ridge of sand and yellow pebbles,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +known as Ravenser Odd, or Ravensrode, as some write it. +“Situate at the entry to the sea,” it was a port regarded with +envy and fear by the merchants of Grimsby and Hull, for its +pilots were skilful, and its traders enterprising. For a time +it flourished; but while the rival Roses wasted the realm, the +sea crept nearer, and at length, after an existence of a century +and a half, distinctly traceable in ancient records and old +books, a high tide, enraged by a storm, ended the history of +Ravenser Odd with a fearful catastrophe. A gravelly bank, +running outwards, still discoverable by excavation, is believed +to be the foundation of the low, flat ridge of sand and yellow +pebbles along which the folk of the little town passed daily +to and fro; among them at times strange seamen and merchants +from far-away lands, and cowled monks and friars +pacing meekly on errands of the Church.</p> + +<p>And yonder, near the bottom of the curve, stood the town +variously described as Ravenser, Ravenspurne, and Ravenspurg—a +town that sent members to parliament in the +reigns of the first two Edwards, and was considered of sufficient +importance to be invited to take part in the great councils +held in London, when the “kinge’s majestie” desired to +know the naval forces of the kingdom. Now, twice a day, +the tide rolls in triumphantly over its site.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The banish’d Bolingbroke repeals himself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with uplifted arms is safe arriv’d<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Ravenspurg,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>writes Shakspeare, perpetuating alike the name of the place +and the memory of the Duke of Lancaster’s adventure,—an +adventure brought before us in an invective by the fiery +Hotspur, which I may, perhaps, be pardoned for introducing +here:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“My father, my uncle, and myself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did give him that same royalty he wears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And,—when he was not six and twenty strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sick in the world’s regard, wretched and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A poor unminded outlaw, sneaking home,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father gave him welcome to the shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And,—when he heard him swear a vow to God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sue his livery, and beg his peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tears of innocency and terms of zeal,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father, in kind heart and pity mov’d,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swore him assistance, and performed it too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, when the lords and barons of the realm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perceived Northumberland did lean to him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more and less came in with cap and knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Met him in boroughs, cities, villages;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid gifts before him, proffered him their oaths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave him their heirs; as pages follow’d him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He presently,—as greatness knows itself,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steps me a little higher than his vow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made to my father, while his blood was poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The cross set up to commemorate the landing was shifted +from place to place when endangered by the sea, and lastly to +Hedon, where it still remains, as already mentioned. It was +at the same port that Edward IV. landed, with an excuse +plausible as that of the duke whose exploit he imitated.</p> + +<p>Though it be “naked” still, and toilsome to walk on, the +shore is by no means barren of interest. By-and-by we come +to firm ground, mostly covered with thickly-matted grass; a +great irregular, oval mound, which represents the bowl of the +spoon reversed. Near its centre is a fenced garden and a row +of cottages—the residence of the life-boat crew. A little farther, +on the summit of the ridge, stands the lighthouse, built +by Smeaton, in 1776, and at the water’s edge, on the inner +side, the lower light. The principal tower is ninety feet in +height, and from the gallery at the top you get an excellent +bird’s-eye view over sea and land. Most remarkable is the +tongue of sand along which we have walked, now visible in +its whole extent and outline. It is lowest where the breach +was made, and now that the tide has risen higher, the chalk +embankment seems scarcely above the level of the water. +Beyond that it broadens away to the shore of the estuary on +one side, and the coast of Holderness on the other—low, +sweeping lines which your eye follows for miles. By the +waste of that coast the Spurn is maintained, and the Trinity +Sands are daily enlarged, and the meadows fattened along Ouse +and Trent. First the lighter particles of the falling cliffs +drift round by the set of the current, and gradually the +heavier portions and pebbles follow, and the supply being +inexhaustible, a phenomenon is produced similar to that of +the Chesil Bank, on the coast of Dorsetshire, except that here +the pebbles are for the most part masked by sand.</p> + +<p>I looked northwards for Flamborough Head, but Dimlington +Hill, which lies between, though not half the height, +hides it completely. Beyond Dimlington lies Withernsea, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +small watering-place, the terminus of the Hull and Holderness +Railway, to which the natives of the melancholy town +betake themselves for health and recreation, tempted by a +quadrille band and cheap season-tickets. Adjoining Withernsea +is all that remains of Owthorne, a village which has +shared the doom of Kilnsea. The churches at the two places +were known as ‘sister churches;’ that at Withernsea yet +stands in ruins; but Owthorne church was swept into the sea +within the memory of persons now living. The story runs +that two sisters living there, each on her manor, in the good +old times, began to build a church for the glory of God and +the good of their own souls, and the work went on prosperously +until a quarrel arose between them on the question +of spire or tower. Neither would yield. At length a holy monk +suggested that each sister should build a church on her own +manor; the suggestion was approved, and for long years the +Sister Churches resounded with the voice of prayer and +praise, and offered a fair day-mark to the mariner.</p> + +<p>But, as of old, the devouring sea rushed higher and higher +upon the land, and the cliff, sapped and undermined, fell, and +with it the church of Owthorne. In 1786, the edge of the +burial-ground first began to fail; the church itself was not +touched till thirty years later. It was a mournful sight to +see the riven churchyard, and skeletons and broken coffins +sticking out from the new cliff, and bones, skulls, and fragments +of long-buried wood strewn on the beach. One of the +coffins washed out from a vault under the east end of the +church contained an embalmed corpse, the back of the scalp +still bearing the gray hairs of one who had been the village +pastor. The eyes of the villagers were shocked by these +ghastly relics of mortality tossed rudely forth to the light of +day; and aged folk who tottered down to see the havoc, wept +as by some remembered token they recognised a relative or +friend of bygone years, whom they had followed to the +grave—the resting place of the dead, as they trusted, till the end +of time. In some places bodies still clad in naval attire, +with bright-coloured silk kerchiefs round the neck, were unearthed, +as if the sea were eager to reclaim the shipwrecked +sailors whom it had in former time flung dead upon the +shore.</p> + +<p>But, to return to the lighthouse. According to Smeaton’s +survey this extremity of the spoon comprehends ninety-eight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +acres. It slopes gently to the sea, and is somewhat altered in +outline by every gale. At the time of my visit, rows of +piles were being driven in, and barriers of chalk erected, to +secure the ground on the outer side between the tower and +the sea; and a new row of cottages for the life-boat crew, +built nearer to the side where most wrecks occur than the +old row, was nearly finished. Beyond, towards the point, +stands a public-house, in what seems a dangerous situation, +close to the water. There was once a garden between it and +the sea; now the spray dashes into the rear of the house; for +the wall and one-half of the hindermost room have disappeared +along with the garden, and the hostess contents herself +with the rooms in front, fondly hoping they will last her +time. She has but few guests now, and talks with regret of +the change since the digging of ballast was forbidden on the +Spurn. Then trade was good, for the diggers were numerous +and thirsty. That ballast-digging should ever have been permitted +in so unstable a spot argues a great want of forethought +somewhere.</p> + +<p>The paved enclosure around the tower is kept scrupulously +clean, for the rain which falls thereon and flows into the +cistern beneath is the only drinkable water to be had. “It +never fails,” said the keeper, “but in some seasons acquires a +stale flavour.” He was formerly at Flamborough, and although +appointment to the Spurn was promotion, he did not +like it so well. It was so lonesome; the rough, trackless +way between, made the nearest village seem far off; now and +then a boat came across with visitors from Cleathorpes, a +seven miles’ trip; there had been one that morning, but not +often enough to break the monotony. And he could not get +much diversion in reading, for the Trinity Board, he knew +not why, had ceased to circulate the lighthouse library.</p> + +<p>The lesser tower stands at the foot of the inner slope, where +its base is covered by every tide. Its height is fifty feet, and +the entrance, approached by a long wooden bridge, is far +above reach of the water. This is the third tower erected on +the same spot; the two which preceded it suffered so much +damage from the sea that they had to be rebuilt.</p> + +<p>About the time that ambitious Bolingbroke landed, a good +hermit, moved with pity by the number of wrecks, and the +dangers that beset the mouth of the estuary, set up a light +somewhere near Ravenser. But finding himself too poor to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +maintain it, he addressed a petition to the “wyse Commons +of Parliament,” for succour, and not in vain. The mayor of +Hull, with other citizens, were empowered “to make a toure +to be up on daylight and a redy bekyn wheryn shall be light +gevyng by nyght to alle the vesselx that comyn into the seid +ryver of Humbre.”</p> + +<p>In the seventeenth century, Mr. Justinian Angell, of London, +obtained a license to build a lighthouse on the Spurn. +It was an octagonal tower of brick, displaying an open coal +fire on the top, which in stormy weather was frequently +blown quite out, when most wanted. Wrecks were continually +taking place; and it is only since Smeaton completed +his tower, and the floating-light was established in the offing, +and the channel was properly buoyed, that vessels can approach +the Humber with safety by night as well as by day.</p> + +<p>It was full tide when I returned along the chalky embankment, +and the light spray from the breakers sprinkled my +cheek, giving me a playful intimation of what might be expected +in a storm.</p> + +<p>I was passing a tilery near Welwick, when a beery fellow, +who sat in the little office with a jug before him and a pipe in +his mouth, threw up the window and asked, in a gruff, insolent +tone, “A say, guvner, did ye meet Father Mathew?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say to ye?”</p> + +<p>“He told me I should see a fool at the tileworks.”</p> + +<p>Down went the window with a hearty slam, and before I +was fifty yards away, the same voice rushed into the road and +challenged me to go back and fight. And when the owner of +the voice saw that the stranger took no heed thereof, he cried, +till hidden by a bend in the road, “Yer nothin’ but t’ scram +o’ t’ yerth!—yer nothin’ but t’ scram o’ t’ yerth!”</p> + +<p>Thinking <i>scram</i> might be the Yorkshire for <i>scum</i>, I made +a note of it for the benefit of philologists, and kept on to +Patrington, where I arrived in time for the last train to Hull, +quite content with six-and-twenty miles for my first day’s +walk.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Northern Manners—Cottingham—The Romance of Baynard Castle—Beverley—Yorkshire +Dialect—The Farmers’ Breakfast—Glimpses of the Town—Antiquities +and Constables—The Minster—Yellow Ochre—The Percy Shrine—The +Murdered Earl—The Costly Funeral—The Sister’s Tomb—Rhyming +Legend—The Fridstool—The Belfry.</p> + +<p>Journeying from Hull to Beverley by ‘market-train’ on the +morrow, I had ample proof, in the noisy talk of the crowded +passengers, that Yorkshire dialect and its peculiar idioms are +not “rapidly disappearing before the facilities for travel +afforded by railways.” Nor could I fail to notice what has +before struck me, that taken class for class, the people north +of Coventry exhibit a rudeness, not to say coarseness of manners, +which is rarely seen south of that ancient city. In +Staffordshire, within twenty miles of Birmingham, there +are districts where baptism, marriage, and other moral and +religious observances considered as essentials of Christianity, +are as completely disregarded as among the heathen. In some +parts of Lancashire and Yorkshire similar characteristics +prevail; but rude manners do not necessarily imply loose +morality. Generally speaking the rudeness is a safety-valve +that lets off the faults or seeming faults of character; and I +for one prefer rudeness to that over-refinement prevalent in +Middlesex, where you may not call things by their right +names, and where, as a consequence, the sense of what is +fraudulent, and criminal, and wicked, has become weakened, +because of the very mild and innocent words in which ‘good +society’ requires that dishonesty and sin should be spoken of.</p> + +<p>If we alight at Cottingham and take a walk in the neighbourhood +we may discover the scene of a romantic incident. +There stood Baynard Castle, a grand old feudal structure, the +residence of Lord Wake. When Henry VIII. lay at Hull, +he sent a messenger to announce a royal visit to the castle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +anticipating, no doubt, a loyal reception; but the lord instead +of pride felt only alarm, for his wife, whom he loved truly, +was very beautiful, and he feared for the consequences should +the amorous monarch set eyes on her beauty. He resolved on +a stratagem: gave instructions to his confidential steward; +departed at dead of night with his wife; and before morning +nothing of the castle remained but a heap of smoking ruins. +The king, on hearing of the fire, little suspecting the cause, +generously sent a gift of two thousand pounds, with friendly +words, to mitigate the loss; but the wary lord having evaded +the visit, refused also to receive the money. And now, after +lapse of centuries, there is nothing left but traces of a moat +and rampart, to show the wayfarer where such an ardent +sacrifice was made to true affection.</p> + +<p>Even among the farmers, at whose table I took breakfast at +the <i>Holderness Hotel</i>, at Beverley, there was evidence that +broad Yorkshire is not bad Dutch, as the proverb says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Gooid brade, botter, and cheese,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is gooid Yorkshire, and gooid Friese.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The farmers talked about horses, and, to my surprise, they ate +but daintily of the good things, the beef, ham, mutton, brawn, +and other substantial fare that literally burdened the table. +Not one played the part of a good trencherman, but trifled as +if the victim of dinners fashionably late; and still more to +my surprise, when the conversation took a turn, they all spoke +disdainfully of walking. That sort of exercise was not at all +to their liking. “I ha’n’t walked four mile I don’t know +when,” said one; and his fellows avowed themselves similarly +lazy. My intention to walk along the coast to the mouth of +the Tees appeared to them a weakminded project.</p> + +<p>Beverley has a staid, respectable aspect, as if aware of its +claims to consideration. Many of the houses have an old-world +look, and among them a searching eye will discover +unmistakable bits of antiquity. A small columnar building +in the market-place is called the market-cross; beyond it +stands a rare old specimen of architecture, St. Mary’s church, +the scene of the accident recorded by the ancient rhymer:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“At Beverley a sudden chaunce did falle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The parish chirche stepille it fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At evynsonge tyme, the chaunce was thralle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ffourscore folke ther was slayn thay telle.”<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Beyond the church, one of the old town gates, a heavy stone +arch, bestrides the street. At the other end of the town, +screened by an ancient brick wall, you may see the house of the +Black Friars—more venerable than picturesque—besides little +glimpses of the middle ages on your straggling saunter thither. +Among these are not a few of that sort of endowments which +give occasion for abuses, and perpetuate helplessness. And of +noticeable peculiarities you will perhaps think that one might +be beneficially imitated in other towns. <span class="smcap">A Constable Lives +Here</span> is a notification which you may read on sundry little +boards, topped by a royal crown, nailed here and there over +the doors.</p> + +<p>But the minster is the great attraction, rich in historical +associations and architectural beauty. The edifice, as it now +appears, has all been built since the destruction by fire, in +1138, of an older church that stood on the same spot. The +style is diverse, a not uncommon characteristic of ancient +churches: Early English at the east end, Decorated in the +nave, and Perpendicular in the west front and some minor +portions. This western front is considered the master-work, +for not one of its features is out of harmony with the others—a +specimen of the Perpendicular, so Rickman signifies, not +less admirable than the west front of York Minster of the +Decorated. The effect, indeed, is singularly striking as you +approach it from a quiet back street. I found a seat in +a favourable point of view, and sat till my eye was satisfied +with the sight of graceful forms, multiplied carvings, the +tracery and ornament from base to roof, and upwards, where +the towers, two hundred feet in height, rise grandly against +the bright blue sky.</p> + +<p>However much you may admire yellow ochre on door-steps, +door-posts, and in the passages and on the stairs of dwelling-houses, +you will think it out of place when used to hide the +natural colour of the masonry in a noble church. For me, +the effect of the interior was marred by the yellow mask of +the great pillars. The eye expects repose and harmony, and +finds itself cheated. Apart from this, the lofty proportions, +the perspective of the aisles, the soaring arches, the streaming +lights and tinted shadows, fail not in their power to charm. +Your architect is a mighty magician. All the windows, as is +believed, were once filled with stained glass, for the large east +window was glazed in 1733 with the numerous fragments that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +remained after the destroyers of ecclesiastical art had perpetrated +their mischief. The colours show the true old tone; +and the effect, after all, is not unpleasing.</p> + +<p>The Percy shrine on the north side of the choir is one of +the monuments to which, after viewing the carved stalls and +the altar screen, the sexton will call your special attention. It +is a canopied tomb of exquisite workmanship, enriched with +various carvings, figures of knights and angels, crockets and +finials; marking the resting-place, as is supposed, of the Lady +Idonea Clifford, wife of the second Lord Percy of Alnwick. +The Percys played a conspicuous part in Yorkshire history. +Another of the family, grandson of Hotspur, reposes, as is said, +under a tomb in the north transept. He was not a warrior, +but a prebend of Beverley. Then, at the east end, the Percy +chapel, which has lost its beauty through mutilation, commemorates +Henry, the fourth Earl of Northumberland, who +was massacred at his seat, Maiden Bower, near Topcliffe, in +1489. Authorized by Henry VII. to answer the appeal of the +leading men of his neighbourhood against a tax which levied +one-tenth of their property, by a declaration that not one +penny would be abated, he delivered his message in terms so +haughty and imperious, that the chiefs losing patience, +brought up their retainers, sacked the house and murdered +the earl. The corpse was buried here in the minster; and the +funeral, which cost a sum equivalent to 10,000<i>l.</i> present value, +is described as of surpassing magnificence. Among the +numerous items set down in the bill of charges is twopence a +piece for fourteen thousand “pore folk” at the burial.</p> + +<p>In the south aisle of the nave stands another canopied +tomb, an altar tomb of elegant form, covered by a slab of +Purbeck marble, which appears never to have had a word of +inscription to tell in whose memory it was erected. Neither +trace nor record: nothing but tradition, and Venerable Bede. +St. John of Beverley had only to send a cruse of water into +which he had dipped his finger to a sick person to effect a +cure. He once restored the wife of Earl Puch, who lived at +Bishop Burton, a few miles distant. The lady drank a draught +of holy water, and recovered forthwith from a grievous sickness. +She had two daughters who, overawed by the miracle, +entered the nunnery at Beverley, where they won a reputation +for holiness and good works. It was they who gave the two +pastures on which freemen of the town still graze their cattle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +The rest of their story is told in the ballad: it was Christmas-eve, +says the rhymer, the customary service had been +performed in the chapel; the abbess and her nuns slowly +retired to pursue their devotions apart in their cells, all save +two, who lingered and went forth hand in hand after the +others. Whither went they? On the morrow they were +missing; and</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The snow did melt, the Winter fled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before the gladsome Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers did bud, the cuckoo piped,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And merry birds did sing:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And Spring danced by, and crowned with boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came lusty Summer on:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bells ring out, for ’tis the eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The eve of blessed St. John.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But where bide they, the sisters twain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have the holy sisters fled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the abbess and all her nuns bewail’d<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sisters twain for dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Then walk they forth in the eventide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the cool and dusky hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the abbess goes up the stair of stone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">High on the belfry tower,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Now Christ thee save! thou sweet ladye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For on the roof-tree there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like as in blessed trance y-rapt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She sees the sisters fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Whence come ye, daughters? long astray:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">’Tis but an hour, they tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since we did chant the vesper hymn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And list the vesper bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Nay, daughters, nay! ’tis months agone:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet mother, an hour we ween;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we have been in heaven each one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And holy angels seen.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A miracle! cries the rhymer; and he goes on to tell how +that the nuns repair to the chapel and chant a hymn of +praise, after which the two sisters, kneeling, entreat the abbess +for her blessing, and no sooner has she pronounced <i>Vade in +pace</i>, than drooping like two fair lilies, two pale corpses sink to +the floor. Then the bells break into a chime wondrously +sweet, rung by no earthly hand; and when the sisters are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +laid in the tomb, they suffer no decay. Years passed away, +and still no change touched those lovely forms and angelic +features:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And pilgrims came from all the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And eke from oversea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pray at the shrine of the sisters twain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And St. John of Beverley.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Another noteworthy object is King Athelstan’s <i>Fridstool</i>, +or chair of peace; the centre of a sanctuary which extended +a mile from the minster in all directions. Any fugitive who +could once sit therein was safe, whatever his crime. When +Richard II. encamped at Beverley, on his way to Scotland, +his half-brother, Sir John Holland, having aided in the atrocious +murder of Lord Ralph Stafford, fled to the <i>Fridstool</i>, +nor would he leave it until assured of the king’s pardon. +“The Countess of Warwick is now out of Beverley sanctuary,” +says Sir John Paston, writing to his brother in June, 1473—the +days of Edward IV. The chair, hewn from a single +block of stone, is very primitive in form and appearance; and +as devoid of beauty as some of the seats in the Soulages +collection. Athelstan was a great benefactor to the church. +You may see his effigy, and that of St. John, at the entrance +to the choir and over a door in the south transept, where +he is represented as handing a charter to the holy man, +of which one of the privileges is recorded in old English +characters:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza blackletter"> +<span class="i0">Als Fre make I The<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As hert may thynke or Egh may see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Such a generous giver deserved to be held in honour, +especially if the eye were to see from the height of the tower, +to the top of which I now mounted by the narrow winding-stair. +While stopping to take breath in the belfry, you will +perhaps be amused by a table of ringer’s laws, and a record of +marvellous peals, the same in purport as those exhibited at +Hull. You can take your time in the ascent, for sextons +eschew climbing, at least in all the churches I visited in +Yorkshire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">A Scotchman’s Observations—The Prospect—The Anatomy of Beverley—Historical +Associations—The Brigantes—The Druids—Austin’s Stone—The +Saxons—Coifi and Paulinus—Down with Paganism—A Great Baptism—St. +John of Beverley—Athelstan and Brunanburgh—The Sanctuary—The Conqueror—Archbishop +Thurstan’s Privileges—The Sacrilegious Mayor—Battle +of the Standard—St. John’s Miracles—Brigand Burgesses—Annual Football—Surrounding +Sites—Watton and Meaux—Etymologies—King Athelstan’s +Charter.</p> + +<p>“On my first coming to England I landed at Hull, whose +scenery enraptured me. The extended flatness of surface—the +tall trees loaded with foliage—the large fat cattle wading +to the knees in rich pasture—all had the appearance of fairy-land +fertility. I hastened to the top of the first steeple—thence +to the summit of Beverley Minster, and wondered +over the plain of verdure and rank luxury, without a heathy +hill or barren rock, which lay before me. When, after being +duly sated into dulness by the constant sight of this miserably +flat country, I saw my old bare mountains again, my ravished +mind struggled as if it would break through the prison of the +body, and soar with the eagle to the summit of the Grampians. +The Pentland, Lomond, and Ochil hills seemed to have +grown to an amazing size in my absence, and I remarked +several peculiarities about them which I had never observed +before.”</p> + +<p>This passage occurs in the writings of the late James +Gilchrist, an author to whom I am indebted for some part of my +mental culture. I quote it as an example of the different mood +of mind in which the view from the top of the tower may be +regarded. To one fresh from a town it is delightful. As you +step on the leads and gaze around on what was once called +“the Lowths,” you are surprised by the apparently boundless +expanse—a great champaign of verdure, far as eye can reach,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +except where, in the north-west, the wolds begin to upheave +their purple undulations. The distance is forest-like: nearer +the woods stand out as groves, belts, and clumps, with park-like +openings between, and everywhere fields and hedgerows +innumerable. How your eye feasts on the uninterrupted +greenness, and follows the gleaming lines of road running off +in all directions, and comes back at last to survey the town +at the foot of the tower!</p> + +<p>Few towns will bear inspection from above so well as +Beverley. It is well built, and is as clean in the rear of the +houses as in the streets. Looking from such a height, the +yards and gardens appear diminished, and the trim flower-beds, +and leafy arbours, and pebbled paths, and angular plots, and +a prevailing neatness reveal much in favour of the domestic +virtues of the inhabitants. And the effect is heightened by +the green spaces among the bright red roofs, and woods which +straggle in patches into the town, whereby it retains somewhat +of the sylvan aspect for which it was in former times +especially remarkable.</p> + +<p>Apart from its natural features, the region is rich in associations. +The history of Beverley, an epitome of that of the +whole county, tempts one to linger, if but for half an hour. +It will not be time thrown away, for a glimpse of the past +may beneficially influence our further wanderings.</p> + +<p>Here the territory of the Brigantes, which even the Romans +did not conquer till more than a hundred years after their +landing in Kent, stretched across the island from sea to sea. +Here, deep in the great forest, the Druids had one of their +sacred groves, a temple of living oaks, for their mysterious +worship and ruthless sacrifices. Hundreds of tumuli scattered +over the country, entombing kysts, coffins, fragments of skeletons, +and rude pottery, and not less the names of streets and +places, supply interesting testimony of their existence. Drewton, +a neighbouring village, marks, as is said, the site of Druid’s-town, +where a stone about twelve feet in height yet standing +was so much venerated by the natives, that Augustine stood +upon it to preach, and erected a cross thereupon that the worshipper +might learn to associate it with a purer faith. It is +still known as Austin’s Stone.</p> + +<p>The Saxon followed, and finding the territory hollow between +the cliffs of the coast and the wolds, named it Höll-deira-ness, +whence the present Holderness. It was in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +forest of Deira that the conference was held in presence of +Edwin and Ethelburga, between the missionary Paulinus and +Coifi, the high-priest of Odin, on the contending claims of +Christianity and Paganism. The right prevailed; and Coifi, +convinced by the arguments he had heard, seized a spear, and +hurrying on horseback to the temple at Godmanham, cursed +his deity, and hurled the spear at the image with such +fury that it remained quivering in the wall of the sacred +edifice. The multitude looked on in amazement, waiting for +some sign of high displeasure at so outrageous a desecration. +But no sign was given, and veering suddenly from dread to +derision, they tore down the temple, and destroyed the sacred +emblems. Edwin’s timorous convictions were strengthened +by the result, and so great was the throng of converts to the +new faith, that, as is recorded, Paulinus baptized more than +ten thousand in one day in the Swale. According to tradition, +the present church at Godmanham, nine miles distant, a very +ancient edifice, was built from the ruins of the Pagan temple.</p> + +<p>St. John of Beverley was born at Harpham, a village near +Driffield—Deirafeld—in 640. Diligent in his calling, and +eminently learned and conscientious, he became Archbishop of +York. In 700 he founded here an establishment of monks, +canons, and nuns, and rebuilt or beautified the church, which +had been erected in the second century; and when, after +thirty-three years of godly rule over his diocese, he laid aside +the burden of authority, it was to the peaceful cloisters of +Beverley that he retired. “He was educated,” says Fuller, +“under Theodorus the Grecian, and Archbishop of Canterbury, +yet was he not so famous for his teacher as for his scholar, +Venerable Bede, who wrote this John’s life, which he hath so +spiced with miracles, that it is of the hottest for a discreet +man to digest into his belief.” He died in 721, and was buried +in his favourite church, with a reputation for sanctity which +eventually secured him a place in the calendar.</p> + +<p>Was it not to St. John of Beverley that Athelstan owed the +victory at Brunanburgh, which made him sole monarch of +Northumbria? The fame of the “great battle” remains, +while all knowledge of the site of Brunanburgh has utterly +perished, unless, as is argued in the Proceedings of the Literary +and Historical Society of Liverpool, it was fought near Burnley, +in Lancashire. It was celebrated alike in Anglo-Saxon +song and history. Greater carnage of people slain by the edge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +of the sword, says the ancient chronicle, had never been seen +in this island, since Angles and Saxons, mighty war-smiths, +crossed the broad seas to Britain. Athelstan, in fulfilment of +his vow, laid up his sword at the shrine of St. John, and added +largely to the revenues and privileges of the church. A stone +cross, erected on each of the four roads, a mile from the +minster, marked the limits of the sanctuary which he conferred. +One of these yet remains, but in a sadly mutilated +condition.</p> + +<p>When the Conqueror came and laid the country waste from +Humber to Tees, trampling it into a “horrible wilderness,” +he spared Beverley and the surrounding lands, yielding, as was +believed, to the miraculous influence of the patron saint. One +of his soldiers, who entered the town with hostile intent, became +suddenly paralysed, and smitten with incurable disease; +and a captain falling, by accident, as it seemed, from his horse, +his head was turned completely round by the shock. These +were warnings not to be disregarded; and Beverley remained +a scene of fertile beauty amid the desolation.</p> + +<p>One of John’s successors, Archbishop Thurstan, took pleasure +also in fondling Beverley. He cut the canal, a mile in +length, from the river Hull to the town: he gave to the inhabitants +a charter of incorporation conferring similar privileges +to those enjoyed by the citizens of York, whereby they +were free from all fines and dues in England and Normandy; +had the right to pontage—that is, a toll on all the barges and +boats that passed under a bridge, as well as on the vehicles over +it; and to worry debtors as rigorously as they chose, without +fear of retaliation. In these anti-church-rate days it is surprising +enough to read of the power exercised by an archbishop +in the twelfth century. Thurstan had rule over the baronies +of Beverley and five other places, with power to try and +execute criminals, and punish thieves without appeal. In all +the baronies the prisons were his; to him belonged the gibbet, +pillory, and cucking-stool in the towns; the assize of bread +and beer; waifs and wrecks of the sea; the right to ‘prises’ +in the river Hull, diligently enforced by his watchful coroners; +besides park and free warren, and all his land released from +suit and service.</p> + +<p>That taking of prises, by the way, was a standing cause of +quarrel between the burghers of Hull and Beverley. The +right to seize two casks of wine from every vessel of more than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +twenty tons burthen that entered the river, one before, the +other behind the mast, was a grievance too much akin to robbery +to be borne with patience. The merchants, wise in their +generation, tried to save their casks by discharging the cargoes +into smaller vessels before entering the port; but the coroners +detected the evasion, and took their prises all the same. +Hence bitter quarrels; in which the Beverley ships, dropping +down the stream to pursue their voyage, were many times +barred out of the Humber by the men of Hull. Once, when +the archbishop appeared at the port to defend his right, the +mayor, losing temper, snatched the crosier from the dignitary’s +hand, and, using it as a weapon, actually spilt blood with the +sacred instrument.</p> + +<p>Never was the saint’s influence more triumphantly felt +than when Thurstan’s fiery eloquence roused the citizens of +York to march against David of Scotland. The Scottish king, +to support Maud’s claim against Stephen, ravaged Northumbria +with such ferocious devastation, that it seemed but a +repetition of the Norman havoc, and provoked the Saxon part +of the population to join in repelling the invader. After +threatening York, David moved northwards, followed by the +Yorkshire army, which had rendezvoused at the castle of +Thirsk. To inspire their patriotism, a great pole, topped by +a crucifix, and hung with the standards of St. John of Beverley, +St. Peter of York, and St. Wilfred of Ripon, was +mounted on wheels, and placed where every eye could behold +it. The Scottish army was overtaken three miles beyond +Northallerton, on the 22nd of August, 1138. The king, seeing +the threefold standard from afar, inquires of a deserter +what it means; whereupon he replies, in the words of the +ballad:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A mast of a ship it is so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All bedeck’d with gold so gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on its top is a Holy Cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shines as bright as day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Around it hang the holy banners<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of many a blessed saint:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">St Peter, and John of Beverley,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And St. Wilfrid there they paint.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The king begins to have misgivings, and rejoins:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Oh! had I but yon Holy Rood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That there so bright doth show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not care for yon English host,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor the worst that they could do.”<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>But in vain: the Yorkshire blood was up, no quarter was +given, and ten thousand Scotchmen bit the dust. So complete +was the victory, that the oppressed Saxons boasted of it +as an indemnity for their former sufferings; and the Battle of +the Standard remains memorable among the greatest battles +of Yorkshire, and the Standard Hill among her historical places.</p> + +<p>Was it not the same St. John who afterwards appeared in +full pontificals to Stephen, and warned him to stay his purpose +of building a castle at Beverley? and was it not again +his banner, saved from the fire when the town and minster +were burnt in 1186, which rendered Edward I. victorious in +his invasion of Scotland? Did not his tomb sweat blood on +that famous day of Agincourt, and the rumour thereof bring +Henry V. and his lovely Kate hither on a pilgrimage?</p> + +<p>Then the chronicler tells us that one while the provost and +burgesses, resolving to enlarge and beautify the minster, +brought together the best workmen from all parts of England; +and later, that the corporation repaired the edifice with stones +taken from the neighbouring abbey of Watton. And so bitter +became the quarrels between Hull and Beverley, that some +of the chief men encouraged the insurrectionary movements +known as the <i>Rising of the North</i> and the <i>Pilgrimage of Grace</i>, +with no other purpose than to damage their rivals. The burgesses +of Beverley, not having the fear of the marshal before +their eyes, were accused of unfair trading: of keeping two +yard measures and two bushels: unlawfully long and big to +buy with—unlawfully short and small to sell with. And +when in process of time the trade of the town decayed, evil-minded +persons looked on the change as a judgment. At present +there is little of manufacture within it besides that of the +implements which have made the name of Crosskill familiar +to farmers.</p> + +<p>Some old customs lingered here obstinately. The cucking-stool +was not abolished until 1750, which some think was a +hundred years too soon. Ducking-stool-lane preserves its +memory. And down to 1825, an annual match at football +was played on the Sunday before the races, to which there +gathered all the rabble of the town and adjacent villages, +who for some years successfully resisted the putting down of +what had become a nuisance. Instead of abolishing the game, +it would have been better to change the day, and hold weekly +football matches on the race-course.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>From the tower-top the eye takes in the site of Leckonfield, +where the Percys had a castle; of Watton Abbey, where +an English Abelard and Heloise mourned and suffered; of the +scanty remains of Meaux Abbey, founded about 1140, by +William le Gros, Earl of Albemarle. Concerning this nobleman, +we read that he had vowed a pilgrimage to the Holy +Land, but grew so fat as to be detained at home against his +will. Feeling remorse, he consulted his confessor, who advised +him to establish a convent of Cistercians. A monk from +Fountains, eminent alike for piety and skill in architecture, +was invited to choose a site. He selected a park-like tract +commanding a view of the Humber. The earl, loving the +place, bade him reconsider his choice; but the monk, striking +his staff into the ground, replied, “This place shall in future +be called the door of life, the vineyard of heaven, and shall +for ever be consecrated to religion and the service of God.” +The abbey was built and tenanted by cowls from Fountains, +and flourished until floods and high tides wasted the lands, +and the Reformation destroyed the house.</p> + +<p>But though one man may write a poem while “waiting on +the bridge at Coventry,” another may hardly, without presumption, +write a long chapter on the top of a tower. Let me +end, therefore, while descending, with a scrap of etymology. +Beaver lake, that is, the lake of floating islands, sacred to the +Druids, is said by one learned scribe to be the origin of the +name Beverley. Another finds it in the beavers that colonized +the river Hull, with lea for a suffix, and point to an ancient +seal, which represents St. John seated, resting his feet on a +beaver. Did not the wise men of Camelford set up the figure +of a camel on the top of their steeple, as a weathercock, because +their river winds very much, and camel is the aboriginal +British word for crooked? Other scholars trace Beverley +through Bevorlac, back to <i>Pedwarllech</i>—the four stones.</p> + +<p>And here, by way of finish, are a few lines from Athelstan’s +charter:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Yat witen all yat ever been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yat yis charter heren and seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yat I ye King Athelstan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has yaten and given to St. John<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Beverlike yat sai you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tol and theam yat wit ye now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sok and sake over al yat land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yat is given into his hand.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">The Great Drain—The Carrs—Submerged Forest—River Hull—Tickton—Routh—Tippling +Rustics—A Cooler for Combatants—The Blind Fiddler—The +Improvised Song—The Donkey Races—Specimens of Yorkshiremen—Good +Wages—A Peep at Cottage Life—Ways and Means—A Paragraph +for Bachelors—Hornsea Mere—The Abbots’ Duel—Hornsea Church—The +Marine Hotel.</p> + +<p>About a mile from the town on the road to Hornsea, you +cross one of the great Holderness drains, broad and deep +enough for a canal, which, traversing the levels, falls into the +sea at Barmston. It crosses the hollow lands known as ‘the +Carrs,’ once an insalubrious region of swamp and water +covering the remains of an ancient forest. So deep was the +water, that boats went from Beverley to Frothingham, and +some of the farmers found more profit in navigating to and fro +with smuggled merchandise concealed under loads of hay and +barley than in cultivating their farms. For years a large +swannery existed among the islands, and the “king’s +swanner” used to come down and hold his periodical courts. +The number of submerged trees was almost incredible: pines +sixty feet in length, intermingled with yew, alder, and other +kinds, some standing as they grew, but the most leaning in +all directions, or lying flat. Six hundred trees were taken +from one field, and the labourers made good wages in digging +them out at twopence a piece. Some of the wood was so +sound that a speculator cut it up into walking sticks. Generally, +the upper layer consists of about two feet of peat, and +beneath this the trees were found densely packed to a depth +of twenty feet, and below these traces were met with in places +of a former surface: the bottom of the hollow formed by the +slope from the coast on one side, from the wolds on the other, +to which Holderness owes its name. The completion of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +drainage works in 1835 produced a surprising change in the +landscape; green fields succeeded to stagnant water; and the +islands are now only discoverable by the ‘holm’ which +terminates the name of some of the farms.</p> + +<p>A little farther, and there is the river Hull, flowing clean +and cheerful to the muddy Humber. Then comes Tickton, +where, looking back from the swell in the road, you see a +good sylvan picture—the towers of the minster rising grand +and massy from what appears to be a great wood, backed by +the dark undulations of the wolds.</p> + +<p>In the public-house at Routh, where I stayed to dine on +bread-and-cheese, the only fare procurable, I found a dozen +rustics anticipating their tippling hours with noisy revelry. +The one next whom I sat became immediately communicative +and confidential, and, telling me they had had to turn out a +quarrelsome companion, asked what was the best cure “for a +lad as couldn’t get a sup o’ ale without wanting to fight.” +I replied, that a pail of cold water poured down the back was +a certain remedy; which so tickled his fancy that he rose and +made it known to the others, with uproarious applause. For +his own part he burst every minute into a wild laugh, repeating, +with a chuckle, “A bucket o’ water!”</p> + +<p>There was one, however, of thoughtful and somewhat +melancholy countenance, who only smiled quietly, and sat +looking apparently on the floor. “What’s the matter, +Massey?” cried my neighbour.</p> + +<p>“Nought. He’s a fool that’s no melancholy yance a day,” +came the reply, in the words of a Yorkshire proverb.</p> + +<p>“That’s you, Tom! Play us a tune, and I’ll dance.”</p> + +<p>“Some folk never get the cradle straws off their breech,” +came the ready retort with another proverb.</p> + +<p>“Just like ’n,” said the other to me. “He’s the wittiest +man you ever see: always ready to answer, be ’t squire or t’ +parson, as soon as look at ’n. He gave a taste to Sir Clifford +hisself not long ago. He can make songs and sing ’em just +whenever he likes. I shouldn’t wunner if he’s making one +now. He’s blind, ye see, and that makes ’n witty. We calls +’n Massey, but his name’s Mercer—Tom Mercer. Sing us a +song, Tom!”</p> + +<p>True enough. Nature having denied sight to him of the +melancholy visage, made it up with a rough and ready wit, +and ability to improvise a song apt to the occasion. He took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +his fiddle from the bag and attempted to replace a broken +string; but the knot having slipped two or three times, three +or four of his companions offered their aid. The operation +was, however, too delicate for clumsy fingers swollen with +beer and rum, and as they all failed, I stepped forward, took +the fiddle in hand, and soon gave it back to the minstrel, who, +after a few preliminary flourishes, interrupted by cries of +“Now for ’t!” struck up a song. With a voice not unmusical, +rhythm good, and rhyme passable, he rattled out a +lively ditty on the incidents of the hour, introducing all his +acquaintances by name, and with stinging comments on their +peculiarities and weaknesses. The effect was heightened by +his own grave demeanour, and the fixed grim smile on his +face, while the others were kicking up their heels, and rolling +off their seats with frantic laughter.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t I tell ye so!” broke in my neighbour, as he +winced a little under a shaft unusually keen from the singer’s +quiver.</p> + +<p>I was quite ready to praise the song, which, indeed, was +remarkable. The cleverest ‘Ethiopian minstrel’ could not +chant his ditty more fluently than that blind fiddler caught up +all the telling points of the hour. He touched upon the one +who had been turned out, and on my hydropathic prescription, +and sundry circumstances which could only be understood by +one on the spot. Without pause or hesitation, he produced a +dozen stanzas, of which the last two may serve as a specimen:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">“Rebecca sits a shellin’ peas, ye all may hear ’em pop:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knows who’s comin’ with a cart: he won’t forget to stop:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Frank, and Jem, and lazy Mat, got past the time to think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ginger-beer and rum have gone and muddled all their drink.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With a fol lol, riddle, liddle, lol, lol, lol!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">“Here’s a genelman fro’ Lunnon; ’tis well that he cam’ doun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he’d no coom ye rantin’ lads would happen had no tune:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye fumbled at the fiddle-strings; he screwed ’em tight and strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Success to Lunnon then I say, and so here ends my song.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With a fol lol, riddle, liddle, lol, lol, lol!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Lusty acclamations and a drink from every man’s jug +rewarded the fiddler, and a vigorous cry was set up for “The +Donkey Races,” another of his songs, which, as lazy Mat told +me, “had been printed and sold by hundreds.” The blind +man, nothing loth, rattled off a lively prelude, and sang his +song with telling effect. The race was supposed to be run by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +donkeys from all the towns and villages of the neighbourhood: +from Patrington, Hedon, Hull, Driffield, Beverley, and others, +each possessed of a certain local peculiarity, the mention of +which threw the company into ecstacies of merriment. And +when the “donkey from York” was introduced along with +his “sire Gravelcart” and his “dam Work,” two of the +guests flumped from their chairs to laugh more at ease on the +floor. The fiddler seemed to enjoy the effect of his music; +but his grim smile took no relief; the twinkle of the eye was +wanting. He was now sure of his game, for the afternoon at +least.</p> + +<p>While looking round on the party, I had little difficulty in +discerning among them the three principal varieties of Yorkshiremen. +There was the tall, broad-shouldered rustic, whose +stalwart limbs, light gray or blue eyes, yellowish hair, and +open features indicate the Saxon; there was the Scandinavian, +less tall and big, with eyes, hair, and complexion dark, and +an intention in the expression not perceptible in the Saxon +face; and last, the Celt, short, swarthy, and Irish looking. +The first two appeared to me most numerous in the East and +North Ridings, the last in the West.</p> + +<p>On the question of wages they were all content. Here and +there a man got eighteen shillings a week; but the general +rate was fifteen shillings, or “nine shill’n’s a week and our +meat” (diet), as one expressed it. Whatever folk might do +in the south, Yorkshire lads didn’t mean to work for nothing, +or to put up with scanty food. “We get beef and mutton to +eat,” said lazy Mat, “and plenty of it.”</p> + +<p>The road continues between fat fields and pastures, skirts a +park bordered by noble trees, or tall plantations, in which the +breeze lingers to play with the branches: here and there a +few cottages, or a hamlet, clean in-doors, and pretty out of +doors, with gay little flower-gardens. Frequent thunder-showers +fell, and I was glad to shelter from the heaviest under +a roof. Always the same cleanliness and signs of thrift, and +manifest pleasure in a brief talk with the stranger. And +always the same report about wages, and plenty of work for +men and boys; but a slowness to believe that sending a boy +to school would be better than keeping him at work for five +shillings a week. I got but few examples of reading, and +those far from promising, and could not help remembering +how different my experiences had been the year before in +Bohemia.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>One of the cottages in which I took shelter stands lonely in +a little wood. The tenant, a young labourer, who had just +come home from work, “not a bit sorry,” as he said, “that +’twas Saturday afternoon,” entered willingly into conversation, +and made no secret of his circumstances. His testimony was +also favourable as regards wages. He earned fifteen shillings +a week, and didn’t see any reason to complain of hard times, +for he paid but three pounds a year for his cottage, which sum +he recovered from his garden in vegetables and flowers, besides +sundry little advantages which at times fall to the lot of +rustics. He eat meat—beef or mutton—“pretty well every +day,” and was fully persuaded that without enough of good +food a man could not do a fair day’s work.</p> + +<p>While we talked his wife was putting the finishing touch to +the day’s cleaning by washing the brick floor, and without +making herself unclean or untidy, as many do. Her husband +had shown himself no bad judge of rustic beauty when he +chose her as his helpmate, and her good looks were repeated in +their little daughter, who ran playfully about the room. I +suggested that the evening, when one wished to sit quiet and +comfortable, was hardly the time to wet the floor. “I’d +rather see it wet than mucky” (<i>mooky</i>, as he pronounced it), +was the answer; and neither husband nor wife was ready to +believe that the ill-health too plainly observable among many +cottagers’ children arises from avoidable damp. To wash the +floor in the morning, when no one had occasion to sit in the +room, would be against all rule.</p> + +<p>“Stay a bit longer,” said the young man, as I rose when +the shower ceased; “I like to hear ye talk.”</p> + +<p>And I liked to hear him talk, especially as he began to +praise his wife. It was such a pleasure to come home when +there was such a lass as that to make a man comfortable. +Nobody could beat her at making a shirt or making bread, or +cooking; and he opened the oven to show me how much room +there was for the loaves. Scarcely a cottage but has a grate +with iron oven attached, and in some places the overpowering +heat reminded me of my friend’s house in Ulrichsthal. Then +we had a little discourse about books. He liked reading, and +had a Bible for Sundays, and a few odd volumes which he +read in the evenings, but not without difficulty; it was so +hard to keep awake after a day out of doors.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile I made enticing signs to the merry little lassie,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +and at last she sat without fear on my knee, and listened with +a happy smile and wondering eyes to my chant of the pastoral +legend of <i>Little Bopeep</i>. Such good friends did we become, +that when at length I said “good-bye,” and shook hands, +there was a general expression of regret, and a hope that I +would call again. I certainly will the next time I visit +Holderness.</p> + +<p>Often since has this incident recurred to my mind, and +most often when the discussion was going on in the newspapers +concerning the impropriety of marriage on three +hundred a year. I wished that the writers, especially he who +sneered at domestic life, could go down into Yorkshire, and +see how much happiness may be had for less than fifty pounds +a year. As if any selfish bachelor enjoyments, any of the +talk of the clubs, were worth the prattle of infancy, the +happy voices of childhood, the pleasures and duties that come +with offspring! Sandeau deserved to be made <i>Académicien</i>, if +only for having said that “un berceau est plus éloquent +qu’une chaire, et rien n’enseigne mieux ą l’homme les cōtés +sérieux de sa destinée.”</p> + +<p>A mile or two farther and water gleams through the trees +on the right. It is Hornsea Mere, nearly two miles in length, +and soon, when the road skirts the margin, you see reedy +shallows, the resort of wild-fowl, and swans floating around +the wooded islands; and at the upper end the belts and +masses of trees under which the visitors to Hornsea find pleasant +walks while sauntering out to the sylvan scenery of +Wassand and Sigglesthorne. The lake, said a passing villager, +averages ten feet in depth, with perhaps as much more of +mud, and swarms with fish, chiefly pike and perch. He added +something about the great people of the neighbourhood, who +would not let a poor fellow fish in the mere, and ordered the +keeper to duck even little boys poaching with stick and string. +And he recited with a gruff chuckle a rhyming epitaph which +one of his neighbours had composed to the memory of a +clergyman who had made himself particularly obnoxious. It +did not flatter the deceased.</p> + +<p>In Henry the Third’s reign, as may be read in the <i>Liber +Melsę</i>, or Chronicle of the Abbey of Meaux, the Abbot of St. +Mary’s at York quarrelled with him of Meaux, about the right +to fish in the mere, and not being able to decide the quarrel +by argument, the pious churchmen had recourse to arms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +Each party hired combatants, who met on the appointed day, +and after a horse had been swum across the mere, and stakes +had been planted to mark the Abbot of St. Mary’s claim, they +fought from morning until nightfall, and Meaux lost the +battle, and with it his ancient right of fishery.</p> + +<p>In Elizabeth’s reign, the Countess of Warwick granted to +Marmaduke Constable the right to fish and fowl for “the +some of fyftye and five pounds of lawful English money.” +This Marmaduke, who thus testified his love of fin and feather, +was an ancestor of Sir Clifford Constable, the present “Lord +Paramount,” upon whom the blind fiddler exercised his wit.</p> + +<p>Hornsea church stands on an eminence at the eastern end +between the mere and the village. Its low square tower once +bore a tall spire, on which, as is said, the builder had cut an +inscription:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hornsea steeple, when I built thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou was 10 miles off Burlington,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ten miles off Beverley, and 10 miles off sea;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>but it fell during a gale in 1773. The edifice is a specimen +of fifteenth-century architecture, with portions of an earlier +date. The crypt under the chancel was at one time a receptacle +for smuggled goods, and the clerk was down there doing +unlawful work when the tempest smote the spire, and frightened +him well-nigh to death. The memory of the last rector +is preserved by an altar tomb of alabaster, and of William +Day, gentleman, who “dyed” in 1616, by a curious epitaph:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If that man’s life be likened to a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One here interr’d in youth did lose a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By death, and yet no loss to him at all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he a threefold day gain’d by his fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One day of rest in bliss celestial,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two days on earth by gifts terrestryall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three pounds at Christmas, three at Easter Day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Given to the poure until the world’s last day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This was no cause to heaven; but, consequent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thither will, must tread the steps he went.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For why? Faith, Hope, and Christian Charity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfect the house framed for eternity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hornsea village is a homely-looking place, with two or +three inns, a post-office, and little shops and houses furbished +up till they look expectant of customers and lodgers. Many +a pair of eyes took an observation of me as I passed along the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +street, and away up the hill, seeking for quarters with an +open prospect. Half a mile farther, the ground always rising, +and you come to the edge of a clay cliff, and a row of modern +houses, and the <i>Marine Hotel</i> in full view of the sea.</p> + +<p>Even at the first glance you note the waste of the land. +As at Kilnsea, so here. A few miles to the south, between +us and Owthorne, stands the village of Aldborough, far to the +rear of the site once occupied by its church. The sea washed +it away. That church was built by Ulf, a mighty thane, in +the reign of Canute. A stone, a relic of the former edifice, +bearing an inscription in Anglo-Saxon, which he caused to be +cut, is preserved in the wall of the present church. This +stone, and Ulf’s horn, still to be seen in York Minster, are +among the most venerable antiquities of the county.</p> + +<p>Hornsea is a favourite resort of many Yorkshire folk who +love quiet; hence a casual traveller is liable to be disappointed +of a lodging on the shore. There was, however, a room to +spare at the hotel—a top room, from which, later in the evening, +I saw miles of ripples twinkling with moonlight, and +heard their murmur on the sand through the open window +till I fell asleep.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Coast Scenery—A waning Mere, and wasting Cliffs—The Rain and the Sea—Encroachment +prevented—Economy of the Hotel—A Start on the Sands—Pleasure +of Walking—Cure for a bad Conscience—Phenomena of the Shore—Curious +Forms in the Cliffs—Fossil Remains—Strange Boulders—A Villager’s +Etymology—Reminiscences of “Bonypart” and Paul Jones—The +last House—Chalk and Clay—Bridlington—One of the Gipseys—Paul Jones +again—The Sea-Fight—A Reminiscence of Montgomery.</p> + +<p>I was out early the next morning for a stroll. The upper +margin of the beach, covered only by the highest tides, is +loose, heavy sand, strewn with hardened lumps of clay, fatiguing +to walk upon; but grows firmer as you approach the water. +The wheels of the bathing-machines have broad wooden tires +to prevent their sinking. The cliffs are, as we saw near the +Spurn, nothing but clay, very irregular in profile and elevation, +resembling, for the most part, a great brown bank, varying in +height from ten feet to forty. The hotel stands on a rise, +which overtops the land on each side and juts out farther, +commanding a view for miles, bounded on the north by that +far-stretching promontory, Flamborough Head; and to the +south by the pale line, where land and water meet the sky. +The morning sun touching the many jutting points, while the +intervals lay in thin, hazy shadow, imparted something picturesque +to the scene, which vanished as the hours drew on, +and the stronger light revealed the monotonous colour and unclothed +surface of the cliffs. Towards evening the picturesque +reappears with the lights falling in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>A short distance south of the hotel, a stream runs from the +mere to the sea. The land is low here, so low that unusually +high tides have forced their way up the channel of the stream +to the lake, and flooded the grounds on both sides; and the +effect will be, as Professor Phillips says, the entire drainage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +of the mere, and production of phenomena similar to those +which may be seen on the other parts of the coast of Holderness: +a depression in the cliffs exposing a section of deposits +such as are only formed under a large surface of standing water. +The result is a mere question of time; and if it be true that +Hornsea church once stood ten miles from the sea, within the +historical period, the scant half-mile, which is now all that +separates it from the hungry waves, has no very lengthened +term of existence before it. More than a mile in breadth +along the whole coast from Bridlington to Spurn has been +devoured since the Battle of the Standard was fought.</p> + +<p>An old man of eighty who lives in the village says there are +no such high tides now as when he was a boy; and if he be +not a romancer, the low ground from the sea to the mere +must, at least once, have presented the appearance of a great +lake. But the wasting process is carried on by other means +than the sea. I saw threads of water running down the cliffs, +produced by yesterday’s rain, and not without astonishment +at the great quantities of mud they deposit at the base, forming +in places a narrow viscous stream, creeping in a raised channel +across the sand, or confused pasty heaps dotted with pools of +liquid ochre. Mr. Coniton, the proprietor of the hotel, told +me that he believed the rain had more influence than the sea +in causing the waste of land, and he showed me the means he +employed to protect his territory from one and the other. To +prevent the loss by rain, which he estimates, where no precautions +are taken, at a foot a year, he at first sloped his cliff +at such an angle that the water runs easily down and with +scarcely appreciable mischief. Then, to protect the base, he +has driven rows of piles through the sand into the clay +beneath, and these, checking the natural drift of the sand to +the southward, preserve the under stratum. Where no such +barrier exists, the waves in a winter storm sweep all the sand +clean off, and lay bare the clay, and tumbling upon it with +mighty shocks, sometimes wear it down a foot in the course +of a tide. By this lowering of the base, the saturated soil +above, deprived of support, topples over, leaving a huge gap, +which only facilitates further encroachments; and in the +course of a few tides the fallen mass is drifted away to enlarge +the shoals in the estuary of the Humber.</p> + +<p>Mr. Coniton entered into possession fifteen years ago, and +in all that time, so effectual are the safeguards, has lost none<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +of his land. The edge, he says, has not receded, and, to show +what might be, he points to his neighbour’s field, which has +shrunk away some yards to the rear.</p> + +<p>The space between the hotel and the edge of the cliff is +laid out as a lawn, which, sheltered by a bank on the north, +forms an agreeable outlook and lounging-place, while gravelled +paths lead to an easy descent to the sands at each extremity +of the premises. The house is well arranged; there is no +noise, no slackness in the service; and families may live as +privately as in a private residence. The charge for adults is +four shillings a day; for young children, half a guinea a week, +without stint as to the number of meals: to which must be +added the cost of rooms and attendance. The charges to +casual guests are as reasonable as could be desired, contrasting +favourably in this particular with my experiences at Hull and +in certain of the inland towns and villages. Ninepence a day +for service and boots is charged in the bill; hence you can +depart without being troubled to “remember” anybody. An +omnibus arrives every day from Beverley during the season—May +to November. The distance is thirteen miles.</p> + +<p>The falling tide had left a breadth of comparatively firm +sand by the time I was ready to start, and along that I took +my way to Bridlington: another stage of thirteen miles. +The morning was bounteous in elements of enjoyment: a +bright sun, great white clouds sailing high across the blue, a +south-westerly breeze, which made the sea playful and murmurous: +all gratifying to the desire of a wayfarer’s heart. I +could not help pitying those farmers at Beverley, who saw no +pleasure in walking. No pleasure in the surest promotion of +health and exercise! No pleasure in the steady progressive +motion which satisfies our love of change without hindering +observation! No pleasure in walking, that strengthens the +limbs and invigorates the lungs! No pleasure in arming +the sling against the giant! No pleasure in the occasion of +cheerful thoughts and manifold suggestions which bring contentment +to the heart! Walking is an exercise which in our +days might replace, more commonly than it does, the rude +out-door recreations of former times; and if but a few of the +many hundreds who put on their Sunday clothes to lounge the +hours away at the corner of a street, would but take a ten +miles’ walk out to the country lanes or breezy moorlands, they +would find benefit alike to their manhood and morals. If I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +remember rightly, it is one of the old Greeks who says that +walking will almost cure a bad conscience; and, for my part, +I am never so ready to obey the precept of neighbourly love +as when my sentiments are harmonized by walks of seven or +eight leagues a day.</p> + +<p>The sands are of varying consistency. In some places you +leave deep footprints; and nowhere is the firmness equal to +that we shall find farther north, except on the wet border +from which the wave has just retired. Mile after mile it +stretches before you, a broad slope of sand, sparely roughened +here and there by pebble drifts. At times you see numerous +rounded lumps lying about of many sizes, which at a distance +resemble sleeping turtles, and on a nearer view prove to be +nothing but masses of hardened clay, water-worn, and as full +of pebbles as a canon’s pudding is of plums. These are +portions of the bottoms of lakes overrun by the sea; stubborn +vestiges, which yield but slowly. At times the shortest route +takes you through watery flats, or broad shallow streams, +where little rivers are well-nigh swallowed by the sand as +they run across to the sea. A little farther and you come to +a low bank, everywhere cut up by glistening ripple-marks, or +to a bare patch of clay, which feels like india-rubber under +your foot.</p> + +<p>And the cliffs taken thus furlong by furlong offer a greater +variety than appears at first sight. Here, the clay is cracked +in such a way as to resemble nothing so much as a pile of huge +brown loaves; now it falls away into a broken hollow patched +with rough grass; now it juts again so full of perpendicular +cracks that you liken it to a mass of starch; now it is grooved +by a deep gully; now a buttress terminates in a crumbling +pyramid—umber mottled with yellow; now it is a rude stair, +six great steps only to the summit; now a point, of which +you would say the extremity has been shaped by turf-cutters; +now a wall of pebbles, hundreds of thousands of all sizes, the +largest equal in bigness to a child’s head; now a shattered +ruin fallen in a confused heap. Such are some of the appearances +left by the waves in their never-ending aggressions.</p> + +<p>In one hollow the disposition of the clay was so singular, +and apparently artificial, and unlike anything which I had +ever seen, that I could only imagine it to be a recess in which +a party of Assyrian brickmakers had been at work and left +great piles of their bricks in different degrees of finish. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +was easier to imagine that than to believe such effects could +be produced by the dash of the sea.</p> + +<p>The greatest elevation occurs about Atwick and Skirlington, +places interesting to the palęontologist, on account of fossils—an +elephant’s tusk, and the head and horns of the great Irish +elk—found in the cliffs. Farther on the cliff sinks to a mere +bank, six feet in height, but, whether high or low, you need +not fear a surprise by the rising tide, for you can scramble up +anywhere out of reach of the water. Looking inland from +these points you see always the same character of scenery, and +where a path zigzags up you will notice large trays used for +carrying up the heaps of pebbles there accumulated, for the +construction of drains, fences, and walls. Among remarkable +curiosities are two large boulders—one of a slaty rock, the +other of granite half embedded in the sand. From what part +of the country were they drifted to their present position?</p> + +<p>Here and there I fell in with a villager taking a quiet walk +on the beach, and leading two or three little children. One +of them told me that the Stricklands, a well-known family in +Holderness, derived their name from Strikeland; that is, they +were the first to <i>strike</i> the <i>land</i> when they came over. +Collectors of folk-lore will perhaps make a note of this rustic +etymology. He remembered hearing his father talk of the +alarm that prevailed all along the coast when there was talk +of “Bonypart’s” invasion; and how that Paul Jones never +sailed past without firing a ball at Rolleston Hall, that stood +on a slope in sight of the sea, where dwelt Mr. Brough, who, +as Marshal to the Court of Admiralty, had to direct the proceedings +on the trial of Admiral Byng.</p> + +<p>Here and there are parties of country lads bathing; or +trying which can take the longest jump on the smooth sand; +or squatting in soft places idly watching the waves, and +exasperating their dogs into a fight.</p> + +<p>After passing Skipsea, and the northern end of the Barmston +drain, the lone house in the distance catches your eye; the +last house of Auburn, a village devoured by the sea. The +distance is deceptive along the level shore; but when at length +you come to the spot, you see a poor weather-beaten cottage +on the top of the cliff, and so close to the edge that the eastern +wall forms but one perpendicular line with the cliff itself. +You can hardly help fancying that it will fall at any moment, +even while you are looking; but so it has stood for many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +years; a fact the more remarkable, as in this place the cliff +projects as if in defiance of the ruthless waters. Look at the +old maps, and you will read: “Here Auburn washed away +by the sea;” and the lone house remains a melancholy yet +suggestive monument of geological change.</p> + +<p>Now Bridlington comes in sight, and immediately beyond you +see a change in the aspect of the cliffs. The chalk formation +which stretches across England from Hampshire to Yorkshire, +makes its appearance here as a thin white band under the +clay, becoming thicker and thicker, till at length the whole +cliff is chalk from base to summit, and the great promontory, +of snowy whiteness, gleams afar in the sunlight along the +shores and across the sea. The chalk opposes a barrier, which, +though far less stubborn than the volcanic rocks of Cornwall, +is yet more enduring than the clay: hence the land rushes +proudly out on the domain of ocean. Nearness, however, +while it shows you the mouths of caverns and gullies, like +dark shades in the chalk, markedly shortens the headland to +the eye.</p> + +<p>The last mile of cliff, as you approach Bridlington is diversified +by a pale chalky stratum, about four feet thick along +the top. It dips down in places basin-like, and contrasts +strangely with the clay.</p> + +<p>Bridlington Quay, as the seaward part of the town is +named, though situated at the very rear of the Head, is, +as I saw on turning the last point, not safe from the sap and +shock of the breakers. The cliff, sunken in places, exhibits +the effect of landslips in rough slopes and ugly heaps. Two +legs of the seat fixed at the corner overhang the edge and rest +upon nothing, and you see that the remainder are doomed to +follow, notwithstanding the numerous piles driven in for +protection.</p> + +<p>The two arms of the pier enclose a small harbour, one of +the few places of refuge for vessels caught by easterly gales +on the Yorkshire coast—a coast deficient in good and easily-accessible +harbours. A chalybeate spring bursts from the cliff +on the northern side; and near the middle of the port an +artesian well throws up a constant stream, varying with the +rise and fall of the tide. The noisy brook which you cross, +on entering the principal street, has its sources in those +remarkable springs which, known as ‘the Gipseys,’ gush +out from the foot of the wolds.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bridlington attracts numbers of that class of visitors for +whom Hornsea is too quiet and Scarborough too gay. In fine +weather, steamers arrive with pleasure parties from Hull and +Whitby, Flamborough Head being the great attraction. The +boatmen ask fifteen shillings a day for a boat to sail round the +Head, and give you opportunity to peer into caverns, or to +shoot seafowl should your desire be for “sport.” And besides +their pay, the tough old fellows like to have a voice in provisioning +the boat, resolute to demonstrate how much your +pleasure depends on “laying in plenty of bottled porter.”</p> + +<p>The church, situate in the town about half a mile from the +Quay, was at one time as large and handsome as the minster +of Beverley; but of late years the visitor has only been able +to see the remains of beauty through grievous dilapidations, +in which the hand of man was more implicated than the +weather. Paul Jones is still held responsible for some of the +mischief. Now, however, the work of restoration is commenced, +and ere long the admirable details and proportions of +the edifice will reappear.</p> + +<p>Here it was that, attended by a convoy of seven Dutch vessels +of war, commanded by Van Tromp, Queen Henrietta Maria +landed in 1643; and there are people yet living who remember +the terror inspired by the redoubtable privateer aforementioned, +while the North-American colonies were battling for +their liberties. On the 20th of September, 1779, a messenger +came in hot haste from Scarborough to Bridlington with +news that an enemy had been espied off the coast, and in the +evening of the same day the Yankee squadron was in sight +from Flamborough Head. Preparations were at once made to +send the women and children into the interior; money and +valuables were hastily packed, and some of the inhabitants, +panic-stricken, actually fled. The drum beat to arms; the +Northumberland militia, then quartered in the neighbourhood, +were called out; and all the coasting-vessels bore up for Bridlington +Bay, and crowded for protection into the little harbour. +Scarcely a town or village on the Yorkshire coast but has its +story of alarms and unwelcome visitations from the American +privateers.</p> + +<p>On the 24th the timid population witnessed a sea-fight from +the cliffs. Jones, with the <i>Bonhomme Richard</i>, and the <i>Pallas</i> +and <i>Alliance</i> frigates, intercepted the <i>Serapis</i>, of forty-four, +and <i>Countess of Scarbro’</i>, of twenty-two guns, convoying a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +fleet of merchant-vessels, and at once commenced action. The +two largest ships grappled, and fired into each other for two +hours, the two frigates meanwhile sailing round, and doing +their best to cripple the Englishman. The American at length +struck; but only as a feint, for when the crew of the <i>Serapis</i> +boarded, they fell into an ambush prepared for them, and suffered +so much loss, that the <i>Serapis</i> hauled down her colours, +and the <i>Countess of Scarbro’</i> was taken by the <i>Pallas</i>. The +victory, however, was dearly won: the <i>Bonhomme Richard</i> +lost three hundred men in killed and wounded, and was so +grievously cut up in her hull, that the next day she went to +the bottom. Captain Pearson, of the <i>Serapis</i>, in his despatch +to the Admiralty announcing the capture of his ship, had good +reason to write, “I flatter myself with the hopes that their +lordships will be convinced that she has not been given +away.”</p> + +<p>The scene of three of Montgomery’s sonnets is laid at +Bridlington. Turn to the volume and read them, before you +go farther.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">What the Boarding-House thought—Landslips—Yarborough House—The +Dane’s Dike—Higher Cliffs—The South Landing—The Flamborough Fleet—Ida, +the Flamebearer—A Storm—A talk in a Limekiln—Flamborough +Fishermen—Coffee before Rum—No Drunkards—A Landlord’s Experiences—Old-fashioned Honesty.</p> + +<p>The party—four gentlemen and one lady—at the boarding-house +where I tarried to dine, agreed unanimously that +to pass a whole Sunday morning in walking, was especially +blameworthy. Besides being wrong in itself, it was “setting +such a bad example;” nor would they hear reason on the +question. With them, indeed, it was no question: they +quoted the fourth commandment, and that settled it. Any +departure from that was decidedly wrong, if not sinful. +And then, perhaps out of a benevolent desire for my spiritual +welfare, they urged me to stay till the morrow, when +I might join them in a boat-trip to the Head and help to +fire guns at the seafowl. It surprised me somewhat to hear +them discuss their project with as much animation as if they +had not just administered a homily to me, or the day had +not been Sunday. The possibilities of weather, the merits +of cold pies, sandwiches, and lively bottled drinks, powder +and shot moreover, and tidal contingencies, were talked about +in a way that led me to infer there was nothing at all wrong +in consuming the holy day with anticipations of pleasure to +come in the days reckoned unholy. Then one of the party +set off to walk to a village three miles distant; and presently, +when I started for Flamborough, the other three accompanied +me as far as the path along the cliff was easy to the foot. So +I could only infer again that there is nothing wrong in +short walks on a Sunday. It is simply the distance that +constitutes the difference between good and evil. Some +folk appear to believe that if they only sit under a pulpit in +the morning, they have earned a dispensation for the rest of +the day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<p>The cliffs now are sixty feet in height, broken by frequent +slips in the upper stratum of clay, and numerous cracks running +along the path marks the limits of future falls. One of +the slips appeared to be but a few hours old, and the lumps, +of all dimensions, with patches of grass and weeds sticking out +here and there, lying in a great confused slope, suggested the +idea of an avalanche of clay. Ere long you come to Yarborough +House, a stately mansion standing embowered by trees about +a furlong from the shore. Holding that an Englishman has an +inherent right of way along the edge of his own country, I +gave no heed to the usual wooden warning to trespassers, +erected where the path strikes inland at the skirt of the +grounds, and kept along the pathless margin of the cliff. Nothing +appeared to be disturbed by my presence except a few +rabbits, that darted as if in terror to their burrows. Once +past the grounds you come into large fields, where the grain +grows so close to the brink of the precipice, that you wonder +alike at the thrift of the Yorkshire farmers, and the skill with +which they drive their ploughs in critical situations.</p> + +<p>As you proceed, the cliffs rise higher, interrupted in places +by narrow gullies, one of which is so deep and the farther +bank so high as to appear truly formidable, and shut out all +prospect to the east. After a difficult scramble down, and a +more difficult scramble up, you find yourself on the top of a +ridge, which, stretching all across the base of the headland +from sea to sea, along the margin of a natural ravine, remains +a monument, miles in length, of the days</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“When Denmark’s Raven soar’d on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphant through Northumbrian sky.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is the “Dane’s Dike,” a barrier raised by our piratical +Scandinavian forefathers to protect their settlements on the +great promontory. With such a fence, they had always a refuge +to fall back upon where they could hold their own, and +command the landing-places till more ships and marauders +arrived with succours. As the eye follows the straight line of +the huge grass-grown embankment, you will feel something +like admiration of the resolute industry by which it was raised, +and perhaps think of the fierce battles which its now lonely +slopes must have once witnessed.</p> + +<p>Still the cliffs ascend. Farther on I came to a broader and +deeper ravine, at the mouth of which a few boats lay moored;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +and others hauled up on the beach, and coming nearer, I saw +boat after boat lodged here and there on the slopes, even to +the level ground above, where, judging from the number, the +fleet found its rendezvous. It was curious to see so many +keels out of their element, most of them gay with stripes of +blue and red, and bearing the names of the wives and +daughters of <i>Flambro’</i>. The little bay, however, known as +the South Landing, is one of the two ports of Flamborough: +the other, as we shall see after passing the lighthouse, is similar +in formation—a mere gap in the cliffs. They might be +called providential landing-places, for without them the fishermen +of Flamborough would have no access to the sea, except +by ladders down the precipice. As it is, the declivity is very +steep; and it is only by hauling them up to every available +spot, that room is found for the numerous boats.</p> + +<p>Here it was that Ida, the Flamebearer, is supposed to have +landed, when he achieved the conquest of Northumbria; and +here the galleys of the Sea-Kings found a precarious shelter +while the daring Northmen leapt on shore to overrun the land +in later centuries, when tradition alone preserved the remembrance +of the former invaders and their warlike deeds.</p> + +<p>I was prowling hither and thither in the ravine, entertained +with the Present while imagining the Past, when the clouds, +grown every minute blacker since noon, let fall their burden +with something like tropical vehemence. For some time there +was no perceptible pause in the lightning or thunder, and +against the accompanying rain an umbrella was but as gauze. +I rushed into the arch of a neighbouring limekiln, and once in, +was kept there two hours by the roaring storm. Presently +two fishermen, speeding up from the landing, made for the +same shelter, and of course, under the circumstances, we fraternised +at once, and talked the time away.</p> + +<p>Clean and well clad, they were favourable—and as I afterwards +saw—not exceptional specimens of their class. In +their opinion the Flamborough fishermen bear as good a +character as any in Yorkshire—perhaps better. About seven +years ago they all resolved to work but six days a week, and +on no account to go to sea on Sundays. They held to their +resolve, and, to the surprise of most, found themselves the +better. They earn quite as much as before, if not more, and +go to work with better spirit. During the herring season it is +a common practice with them to put into Scarborough on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +Saturday evening, and journey home by rail for the Sunday, +taking advantage of the very low fares at which return tickets +are issued to fishermen. And as for diet, they take a good +store of bread and meat, pies even, in their boats, seeing no +reason why they should not live as well as their neighbours. +A glass of rum was acceptable, especially in cold and blowing +weather: but so far as they knew, there were very few +fishermen who would not “choose hot coffee before rum any +day.”</p> + +<p>There was none of that drinking among fishermen now as +there used to be formerly. You could find some in Flamborough +“as liked their glass,” but none to be called drunkards. +There is a national school in the village; but not so well +attended as it might be, and perhaps would be if they had a +better schoolmaster. The people generally had pretty good +health, which is possibly the occasion why the last two doctors, +finding time hang heavy on their hands, drank themselves to +death. There is, or rather was in July, 1857, an opening for +a doctor in Flamborough.</p> + +<p>The rain still fell heavily when we left our shelter, and it +kept on till past midnight. Luckily the village was not a +mile distant, and there I took a comfortable chair by the kitchen +fire of <i>The Ship</i>. The landlord corroborated all that the +fishermen had told me, with the reservation that he found it +difficult to clear his room of tipplers on Saturday night, +although none could be set down as drunkards. At times he +put on his clock ten minutes, to ensure a clearance before the +Sunday morning, resolutely refusing to refill the glasses after +twelve. The guests would go away growling out a vow never +to return to such an inhospitable house; but not one kept the +vow more than a fortnight. When, nineteen years ago, he +determined not to open his house on Sunday to any but strangers +who might chance to arrive from a distance, the village +thought itself scandalized, and the other public-houses predicted +his ruin. They were, however, mistaken. <i>The Ship</i> +still flourishes; and the host and his family “find themselves +none the worse for going to a place of worship, and keeping +the house quiet one day in seven.”</p> + +<p>“Sometimes,” he ended, “we don’t think to fasten the +front door when we go to bed; but it’s all the same; nobody +comes to disturb us.” Which may be taken as an indication +that honesty has not yet abandoned Flamborough.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Men’s and Women’s Wages—The Signal Tower—The passing Fleet—The +Lighthouse—The Inland View—Cliff scenery—Outstretching Reefs—Selwick’s +Bay—Down to the Beach—Aspect of the Cliffs—The Matron—Lessons +in Pools—Caverns—The King and Queen—Arched Promontories—The +North Landing—The Herring-Fishers—Pleasure Parties—Robin Lyth’s +Hole—Kirk Hole—View across little Denmark—Speeton—End of the Chalk—Walk +to Filey.</p> + +<p>A fresh, bright morning succeeded the stormy night, and it +was but a few hours old when, after a look at the old Danish +tower at the west of the village, I walked across the fields to +the lighthouse. A woman trudging in the same direction with +a hoe on her shoulder said, after I had asked her a few questions, +she wished she were a man, for then she would get nine +shillings a week and her meat, instead of one shilling a day +and feeding herself, as at present. However, ’twas better +than nothing. Presently her daughter came up, a buxom +maiden, wearing her bonnet in a way which saved her the +affliction of shrugs and the trouble of tying. It was front +behind: a fashion which leaves no part of the head exposed, +shelters the poll, and looks picturesque withal. It prevails, as +I afterwards noticed, among the rustic lasses everywhere.</p> + +<p>As I passed the old stone tower near the coast-guard station, +the signal-man was busy raising and lowering his flag, for a +numerous fleet of coasting-vessels was running by to the +southward, each telling its name as it came within signal +distance. The man sends a daily list of the names to London +for publication, whereby coal-merchants and others hear of +cargoes on the way, and calculate the time of their arrival. It +is a peculiarity of Flamborough Head, an enlivening one, that +ships can keep so close in that the men on their decks are distinctly +seen, and their voices heard by one standing on the +cliff.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>The lighthouse, a circular white tower, eighty-two feet in +height, stands on the verge of the cliff, displaying inside and out +all that admirable order and cleanliness characteristic of +British lighthouses. There is no difficulty in obtaining admittance; +you sign your name in a book, and are forthwith +conducted up to the lantern by the chief or one of his aids. +The light is revolving, alternately white and red, and can be +seen at a distance of thirty miles. But here, elevated two +hundred and fifty feet above the sea, you feel most interested +in the prospect. No “shadowy pomp of woods” arrests the +eye looking landwards, but a region bleak and bare in aspect +rolling away to the distant wolds, the line of uplands which, +sweeping round, approaches the coast about Scarborough. +The village with its windmill, and the few farms that are in +sight, look naked and comfortless: not an inviting territory +for an invader given to the picturesque. But seawards, and +along the rugged front of the cliffs, grandeur and variety +exert their charm. Here the up-piled chalk flings out a bold +perpendicular buttress, solid from base to summit; there the +jutting mass is isolated by yawning cracks and chasms, and +underneath, as we shall presently see, is fretted into fantastic +shapes, pierced through and through, or worn into caverns by +the headlong billows. In places a broken slope of rocky hummocks +and patches of grass, weeds, and gravel descends, more +or less abruptly, to the beach, opening a view of the long +weed-blackened reefs that, stretching out from the Head, +afford a measure of the amazing encroachments of the sea. +Northwards, the bluff crowned by Scarborough Castle, backed +by higher elevations, closes the view; to the south you have +the low, fading coast of Holderness; and all the while brigs, +ships, and schooners are sailing past, more than a hundred in +sight, some of them so near that you fancy they will hardly +escape the lurking points of the dark reef. One small vessel, +the keeper told me, had touched the day before, and lay fast +and helpless till, the weather being calm, she floated off by the +succeeding tide. You can look down into Selwicks Bay, and +see men and boys quarrying chalk, and donkeys laden with +heavy panniers of the lumps, toiling painfully up the steep +winding road which forms the only approach. The farther +horn of the little bay is arched and tunnelled, and, taken +with the waterfall plunging down in its rear and the imposing +features of the points beyond, invites to further exploration.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>The residents at the lighthouse enjoy an abundant supply +of water from a spring within their enclosure: their garden +produces cabbages and potatoes; the neighbours are friendly, +and visitors numerous. Hence life is more cheerful to them +than to the amphibious hermits who dwell at the Spurn.</p> + +<p>While looking for a practicable descending-place, I noticed +many tufts of thrift as thick with flowers as in an antiquated +garden where the old favourites are still cherished.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Even here hath Nature lavished hues, and scent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And melody; born handmaids of the ocean:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frowning crags, with moss and rock-flowers blent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dazzle the eyes with sunlight, while the motion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of waves, the breezes fragrant from the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cry of birds, combine one glorious symphony!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The time—dead low water—being favourable for a stroll +on the beach, I scrambled down a rough slope to the south of +the lighthouse, and across the rougher beach to the rocks +beyond the outmost point, where, turning round, I could view +the cliffs in either direction. And a striking scene it is! A +wild beach, as rugged with water-worn lumps of chalk as any +lover of chaos could desire. Here the cliff jutting proudly, +the white patches gleaming brightly where masses of chalk +have recently fallen, and the harder portions presenting a +smooth, marble-like appearance; there receding into the +shade, and terminating in darksome hollows, the mouths of +gullies and caverns; and everywhere broken up with buttresses, +piers, and columnar projections, the bases of which +are garnished with a belt of shelly incrustation, and a broad +brown fringe of weed. Above, the white surface is varied by +streaks and stains of yellow and green; and seafowl innumerable +crowd on all the ledges, or wheel and dart in restless +flight, as if proud to show their white wings to the sun.</p> + +<p>The reef stretches out a quarter of a mile, as one may +guess, worn here and there with channels narrow and deep, +along which the water rolls with intermittent rush and roar, +reminding the loiterer here in the slumberous July weather +of tremendous energies lulled to repose. I walked round the +Matron—an isolated pyramid of chalk—and patted her on the +back; and strode from one little pool to another, taking an +unscientific lesson in natural history while watching the +animal and vegetable occupants, and those that seemed to be +as much one as the other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>I picked up a fine specimen of the hermit crab, and proved +the strength of local attachment: it would not be coaxed from +its hermitage—the shell of a whelk. I saw a limpet give its +shell half a rotation, then grow tall for an instant, and then +shut itself snugly down upon the rock. At times, while I +stood quite still, ‘ninnycocks,’ that is, young lobsters, would +venture out from their crevices, and have a frolic in their +weedy basin; but they would tolerate no intruder, and darted +into undiscoverable retreats on my slightest movement. And +the animated flowers that displayed their orange and crimson +petals at the bottom of the basin were equally mistrustful, and +shut themselves up if I did but put my hand in the water, +even after they had looked on without winking at the gambols +of the ninnycocks.</p> + +<p>There are times when ignorance has a charm, and this was +one of them. How much happier to sit and watch a crowd of +weeds, a very forest in miniature, tenanted by creeping things +innumerable, and to have your faculty of wonder excited as +well as admiration while observing them in full liberty, than +to come prepared to call one an ascidian, another an entomostracan, +and so on, and to assign to each its place in the phycological +handbook, or the zoological catalogue!</p> + +<p>In some of the smallest and deepest caverns which curve as +they enter the cliff, you get effects of cross lights from their +inner extremity, and see the glistening of the walls, which, +worn smooth by the water, appear to be varnished. In all the +floor rises more or less rapidly; and in one, a hundred paces +deep, the rush and roar of the surge outside comes only as a +gentle murmur, and a slow drip-drip from the crevices has an +impressive sound there in the gloom where the entrance +cannot be seen.</p> + +<p>I took advantage of the opportunity, and explored most of +the openings, catching sight now and then of belemnites and +other curious fossils in the chalk, wading at times knee-deep +in weed, and scrambled round the bays on each side of the +point, and failed not to salute the venerable King and Queen.</p> + +<p>Having rambled about till the rising tide began to cut off +the way round the promontories, and the crabbers came in +from their raid on the reefs, I climbed the rough slope, and +paced away for the North Landing. Beyond Selwicks Bay +the cliff is more broken and cut up into romantic coves and +bays, with confused landslips here and there, and in places<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +the green turf rushing half way down masks the chalk; and +everywhere are thousands of birds, with their ceaseless cry +and clang. Isolated masses are numerous; and from one +point I could count eight headlands, each pierced by an arch. +And here the water, no longer stained with clay, shows green +and bright along the base of the cliff, beautifully pellucid +where it rolls over a bottom of chalk, contrasting strangely +with darksome gulfs and broad beds of weed. And mingling +with the cry of birds, there comes from time to time to your +ear the noisy report of the guns, or the chant of the fishermen, +as rocked on the swell, they sit watching their nets.</p> + +<p>The North Landing is a gap similar to the South, but +broader, and with an outlet wide enough to be described as a +bay. Here I saw some sixty or eighty boats perched from +top to bottom of the steep slope; and groups of fishermen with +their families, men, women, and children, all busy with preparations +for the herring fishery. While some sorted the nets, +others lifted in big stones for ballast, or set up the masts, and +others pushed their boats down to meet the tide, and all in +high good humour; while all about there prevailed a strong +fishy smell. And besides the fishermen, there were parties of +young men with their guns embarking for a sporting cruise; +some armed only with parasols and accompanied by ladies, +setting off for a sail round the Head; for this is the chief +port of Flamborough, and the <i>North Star</i>, a public-house at +the top of the hill, is convenient for victual.</p> + +<p>The advance of the tide prevented my seeing Robin Lyth’s +Hole, a cavern on the eastern side of the Landing; named, +as some say, after a certain smuggler who kept his unlawful +merchandise therein; or to commemorate the name of a man +who was caught in the cavern by the tide, and saved his life +by clinging to the topmost ledge till the water fell. Another +cavern is known as the Dovecote; another as Kirk Hole, and +of this the tradition runs that it extends far underground to +the village churchyard.</p> + +<p>I climbed up the western side of the gap, and continued +my way along the cliffs, which maintain their elevation. +Soon I came to the northern end of the Dike, a height of +three hundred feet, and from the top beheld the whole territory +of Little Denmark, and the sea all the way round to the +lighthouse, and the southern end of the Dike. According to +Professor Phillips, this remarkable bank was probably already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +in existence when the Danes landed: “perhaps earlier than +the Anglian invasion,” he says; “perhaps it is a British +work, like many other of the entrenchments on these anciently +peopled hills.”</p> + +<p>A mile farther, and the cliff rises to a height of more than +four hundred feet. In some places the bank which encloses +the fields is broad enough for a footpath; but you must beware +of the landslips. The fences, which are troublesome to +climb, project beyond the edge of the cliff to keep the cows, +as an old farmer said, “from persevering after the grass and +tumbling over.” Then at Speeton the chalk turns inland +away from the coast, and the cliff makes a deep hollow curve, +chiefly gravel and dark blue clay, abounding in fossils. To +avoid the curve, I zigzagged down to the beach; but was +presently stopped by a point against which the waves were +dashing breast high. I scrambled over it, and was struck by +its curious appearance. It seemed to be a high clay buttress, +which had fallen perhaps within a few weeks, and was broken +up into masses of somewhat regular form, resembling big +loaves, and the long grass that had once waved on the surface +now looked like dishevelled thatch. It was an interesting +example of the way in which the sea commences its ravages.</p> + +<p>Farther on the cliffs diminish in height, and are furrowed +by numerous streamlets, and the rugged, stony beach changes +to smooth, yielding sand. Filey comes in sight, and Filey +Brig, a long black bar stretching into the sea from the extreme +point of the great bay, half concealed at times by a +quivering ridge of foam. Then we pass from the East to the +North Riding, and ere long we look up at Filey—a <i>Royal Hotel</i>, +a crescent, and rows of handsome houses, coldish of aspect, a +terrace protected by a paved slope, and gravelled paths and a +stair for easy access to the beach. The terrace commands a +view over the bay, and of the cliffs all the way to Flamborough.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Old and New Filey—The Ravine—Filey Brig—Breaking Waves—Ragged Cliffs—Prochronic +Gravel—Gristhorp Bay—Insulated Column—Lofty Cliffs—Fossil +Plants—Red Cliff—Cayton Bay—Up to the Road—Bare Prospect—Cromwell +Hotel and Oliver’s Mount—Scarborough—The Esplanade—Watering-Place +Phenomena—The Cliff Bridge—The Museum—The Spa—The +Old Town—The Harbour—The Castle Rock—The Ancient Keep—The +Prospect—Reminiscences: of Harold Hardrada; of Pembroke’s +Siege; of the Papists’ Surprise; of George Fox; of Robin Hood—The +One Artilleryman—Scarborough Newspapers—Cloughton—The Village Inn, +and its Guests—Tudds and Pooads.</p> + +<p>Here at Filey you begin to see a special characteristic of +these sea-side resorts;—the contrast between the new and +old—the nineteenth century looking proudly across a narrow +debatable ground at the sixteenth and seventeenth, putting +even still earlier periods out of countenance. Were it not +for its churches, the olden time would on occasions be made +to feel ashamed of itself.</p> + +<p>A breezy commanding outlook in front; a large handsome +church, with low square tower, in the rear; a few shops +trying to reconcile themselves to the new order of things +while supplying the wants of fifteen hundred inhabitants; +more than a few true to the old order, and here and there +behind the dim panes, eggs of sea-birds, and shells, and +marine stores, in the literal sense; and two or three quiet-looking, +respectable inns, open to visitors whom the style of +the <i>Royal Hotel</i> intimidates; the new town on the south, and +a wooded ravine on the north; and such is old Filey.</p> + +<p>Into this ravine I descended from the church. Heavy rain +had fallen nearly all night, and the paths were so sticky and +slippery, that I wondered so pretty a spot, so capable with +bushes and trees and a little brook of contributing to recreation, +should not be better kept. There is no lack of material<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +for solid paths in the neighbourhood; but judging from appearances +the ravine gets none of it. The path follows the +course of the brook, and brings you out upon a beach where +fishing-boats, and nets, and lobster-pots, and heaps of ballast, +and a smoky fire, and fishy refuse and a smell of tar, and +sturdy men and women, make up divers pictures for the eye, +and odours for the nostrils.</p> + +<p>As, on approaching Flamborough, we saw the chalk begin +to appear at the base of the cliff, so here we see a stratum of +sandstone slanting up beneath the clay, rising higher towards +the northern horn of the bay, and thence stretching out for +three furlongs into the sea, forming the remarkable reef +known as Filey Brig. Camden describes it as “a thin slip of +land, such as the old English called File; from which the +little village Filey takes its name.” We may suppose that +the cliff once projected as far, sheltering an indentation so +deep that Ptolemy might well call it the <i>well-havened bay</i>; +though on this particular there are different opinions among +the learned. Even now, stripped of its cap of clay, the reef +forms a natural breakwater, of which the effect is best seen +in the quiet of the small vessels at anchor behind it.</p> + +<p>I was fortunate in the time, for a strong north wind was +blowing, and the great waves, checked in their career, dashed +headlong against the stony barrier, and broke into little mountains +of foam, bursting up here and there in tall white intermittent +jets as from a geyser; here one solid surge tumbling +over another, mingling with rush and roar in a wide drift of +spume; there flinging up gauzy whiffs of spray as if mermaids +in frolic were tossing their veils. So mighty were the +shocks at times as to inspire a feeling of insecurity in one +who stood watching the magnificent spectacle.</p> + +<p>You can walk out to the end of the reef, and get good +views of Scarborough, about six miles distant in one direction, +and away to Flamborough on the other. The floor is +generally level, interrupted in places by great steps, channels, +and boles; and by huge blocks of many tons’ weight scattered +about, testifying mutely to the tremendous power of the +sea.</p> + +<p>It is a wild scene, and wilder beyond the point, where the +whole beach is strewn with broken lumps, and ledge succeeds +to ledge, now high, now low, compelling you to many an up-and-down, +stooping under a rude cornice, or scrambling over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +a slippery ridge. In places the cliff overhangs threateningly, +or, receding, forms an alcove where you may sit and feast +your eye with the wondrous commotion, and your ear with +the thundering chorus of many waters.</p> + +<p>The upper stratum of clay is worn by the twofold action +of rain and spray into singularly fantastic forms, and where +it has been deeply excavated, there, kept in by the rim of +stone, lies a salt-water pool so bright and pellucid that the +temptation to bathe therein is irresistible. I thought to get +round to Gristhorp Bay, but came presently to a recess where +the breakers rushing half way up the cliff barred all further +progress. To lean against the rocky wall and feel it throb +with the shock within the shower of spray, produced an +almost painful emotion; and it seemed to me that the more +tumultuous the sea the better did it harmonize with a promontory +so rugged and grim.</p> + +<p>I retraced my steps to a stair that zigzags up the cliff on +the inner side of the point. Near this certain visitors have +cut their initials in the hard rock floor, of such dimensions +that you can only imagine a day must have been spent in the +task with mallet and chisel. Vain records! The sea will +wash them out some day. When on the summit I was struck +more than before by the contrast between the rage and uproar +on the outside of the ridge, and the comparative calm inside; +nor was it easy to leave a view to which, apart from all the +features of the shore, the restless sea added touches of the +sublime, wherein wrought fascination. And all the while +men, looking like pigmies in the distance, were groping for +crabs along each side of the far-stretching reef.</p> + +<p>A little way north of the point a rustic pavilion standing +in a naked garden indicates where the visitor will find a +jutting buttress whence to contemplate the scene below. +More exposed on this side, the cliff is more cut up and broken +in outline, jutting and receding in rugged ledges, and in +every hollow rests one of those limpid pools, so calm and +clear that you can see the creeping things moving between +the patches of weed at the bottom. And the beach is thickly +strewn with boulders of a size which perhaps represents the +gravel of the “prochronic” era.</p> + +<p>The elevation increases as we advance, and by-and-by +looking round on Filey, we see how it lies at the mouth of a +broad vale which it requires no great effort of imagination to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +believe may have been an estuary at some very remote period, +near to the time</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“When the Indian Ocean did the wanton play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingling its billows with the Balticke sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the whole earth was water.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And far as you can see inland the prospect is bare, even to +the distant hills and wolds which loom large and mountainous +through the hazy atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Now the cliff shows bands of colour—brown, gray, and +ochre, and the lower half capped by a green slope forms a +thick projecting plinth to the perpendicular wall above. +Scarborough begins to be visible in detail, and soon we +descend into Gristhorp Bay, where rough walking awaits us. +At its northern extremity stands an insulated columnar mass, +somewhat resembling the Cheesewring, on a rude pedestal +shaped by the waves from the rocky layers. Situate about +fifty yards from the point, it marks the wear of the cliff +from which it has been detached, while the confused waste of +rocks left bare by the ebb suggests ages of destruction prior +to the appearance of the stubborn column.</p> + +<p>The cliffs are of imposing height, nearly three hundred +feet: a formidable bulwark. It is heavy walking along their +base, but as compensation there are strata within reach in +which you may find exhaustless deposits of fossil plants, giant +ferns, and others. And so the beach continues round Red +Cliff into Cayton Bay, where another chaos of boulders will +try your feet and ability to pick your way. To vary the +route, I turned up at Cayton Mill, past the large reservoir +from which Scarborough is supplied with water, along the +edge of the undercliff to the high road, leaving Carnelian Bay +unvisited. At the hill-top you come suddenly upon a wide +and striking prospect—a great sweep of hilly country on one +hand, on the other the irregular margin of the cliffs all the +way to the town, and a blue promontory far beyond the castle +bluff, which marks our course for the morrow.</p> + +<p>The road is good and the crops look hopeful; but the +hedgerows are scanty and stunted, and not improved by the +presence of a few miserable oaks; nor do the plantations +which shelter the farm-houses and stingy orchards appear +able to rejoice though summer be come. In some places, for +want of better, the banks are topped by a hedge of furze.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +On the left of the road, long offshoots from the bleak uplands +of the interior terminate with an abrupt slope, presenting the +appearance of artificial mounds. Another rise, and there is +Scarborough in full view, crowding close to the shore of its +bay, terminated by the castle rock, the most striking feature. +Bright, showy houses scattered on the south and west indicate +the approaches to the fashionable quarter, and of those farthest +from the sea you will not fail to notice the <i>Cromwell Hotel</i>—a +new building in Swiss-like style of architecture, at the foot of +Oliver’s Mount. The Mount—so named from a tradition that +the Protector planted his cannon there when besieging the +castle—is another of those truncated offshoots, six hundred +feet in height, and the summit, which is easily accessible and +much visited, commands an interesting prospect. You see the +tree-tops in the deep valley which divides the New Town from +the Old, and rearwards, broken ground sprinkled with wood, +imparting some touches of beauty to the western outskirts.</p> + +<p>Then, turning to the right, you come upon a stately esplanade, +and not without a feeling of surprise after a few days’ +walking by yourself. For here all is life, gaiety, and fashion. +Long rows of handsome houses, of clean, light-coloured sandstone, +with glittering windows and ornamental balconies, all +looking out on the broad, heaving sea. In front, from end to +end, stretches a well-kept road, where seats, fixed at frequent +intervals, afford a pleasurable resting-place; and from this a +great slope descends to the beach, all embowered with trees +and shrubs, through which here and there you get a +glimpse of a gravelled path or the domed roof of a summer-house. +And there, two hundred feet below, is the Spa—a +castellated building protected by a sea-wall, within which a +broad road slopes gently to the sands. You see visitors +descending through the grove for their morning draught of +the mineral water, or assisting the effect by a ‘constitutional’ +on the promenade beneath; while hundreds besides stroll on +the sands, where troops of children under the charge of nursemaids +dig holes with little wooden spades. And here on the +esplanade elegant pony barouches, driven by natty little +postilions, are starting every few minutes from the aristocratic +looking hotel to air gay parties of squires and dames around +the neighbourhood. And turning again to the beach, there +you see rows of bathing-machines gay with green and red +stripes, standing near the opening of the valley, and now and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +then one starts at a slow pace laden with bathers to meet the +rising tide. And beyond these the piers stretch out, and the +harbour is crowded with masts, and two steamers rock at their +moorings, waiting for ‘excursionists:’ the whole backed by +the houses of the Old Town rising picturesquely one above +the other, and crowning the castle heights.</p> + +<p>Nearly an hour passed before I left that agreeable resting-place, +whence you get the best view of Scarborough and +its environment. Of all the strollers I saw none go beyond +what appeared to be a conventional limit; Nature without +art was perhaps too fatiguing for them. In the whole of my +walk along the coast, I met but two, and they were young +men, who had ventured a few miles from head-quarters for a +real walk on the cliffs.</p> + +<p>A bridge, four hundred feet long and seventy-five high, +offers a level crossing for foot passengers from the esplanade +to the opposite side of the deep valley above mentioned, on +payment of a toll. It is at once ornamental and convenient, +saving the toil of a steep ascent and descent, and combining +the advantage of an observatory. From the centre you get a +complete view of the bay, one which the eye rests on with +pleasure, though you will hardly agree with a medical +author, that it is a “Bay of Naples.” In the other direction, +you look up the wooded valley, and down upon the Museum, +a Doric rotunda, built by the members of the Scarborough +Philosophical Society, for the preservation of geological +specimens. The contents are admirably classified, rocks and +fossils in their natural order; amid them rests the skeleton of +an ancient British chief; and near the entrance you may see +the clumsy oak coffin in which it was found, about twenty-five +years ago, in a barrow at Gristhorp.</p> + +<p>Descend into the valley, and you will find pleasure in the +sight of the bridge, and miles of water seen through the light +and graceful arches. Then take a walk along the sands, and +look up at the leafy slope, crowned by the esplanade, and you +will commend the enterprise which converted an ugly clay +cliff into a hanging wood. And enterprise is not to stop +here: Sir Joseph Paxton, as I heard, has been consulted +about the capabilities of the cliff to the south. Some +residents, however, think that Scarborough is already overdone.</p> + +<p>In a small court within the Spa you may see the health-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>giving +waters flowing from two mouths, known from their +position as North Well and South Well. The stream is +constant, and, after all the wants of the establishment are +supplied, runs across the sand to the sea. The water has a +flavour of rusty iron and salt, differing in the two wells, +although they are but a few feet apart; and the drinkers find +it beneficial in cases of chronic debility and indigestion with +their remorseless allies.</p> + +<p>The contrast is more marked between New and Old than +at Filey. There is, however, a good, respectable look about +the streets of the Old Town, and signs of solid business, +notwithstanding the collections of knick-knackery and inharmonious +plate-glass. From the broad main street you +descend by a narrow crooked street—from old through oldest +to the harbour, where old anchors, old boats, old beams and +buttresses dispute possession with the builders of new boats, +who make the place noisy with their hammering. Here as +a Yorkshireman would say, were assembled all the ‘ragabash’ +of Scarborough, to judge by what they said and did. +Boys and men were fishing from the pier-head under the +lighthouse, watched by grizzly old mariners, who appeared to +have nothing better to do than to sit in the sun; children +paddled in the foamy shallows of the heavy breakers; carts +rumbled slowly to and from the coal brigs, followed by stout +fellows carrying baskets of fish; a sight which might have +shamed the dissolute throng into something like industry.</p> + +<p>Enclosed by the three piers which form the harbour stands +a detached pile of masonry, seemingly an ancient breakwater—all +weather-beaten, weedy, and grass-grown, with +joints widely gaping, looking as if it had stood there ever +since Leland’s day—a remarkable object amid the stir of +trade and modern constructions, but quite in harmony with +the old pantile-roofed houses that shut in the port. Among +these you note touches of the picturesque; and your eye +singles out the gables as reminiscences of the style which, +more than any other, satisfies its desire.</p> + +<p>But let us go and look down on the scene from the castle +rock. The ascent is steep, yet rich in recompense. St. +Mary’s church, near the summit, and the fragments of old +walls standing amidst the graves, remind us of its former +dimensions, and of the demolitions it suffered during the +siege. And there rises in massive strength, to a height of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +ninety feet, a remnant of the castle keep—an imposing ruin +full before us, as we cross the drawbridge, pass under the +barbican, and along the covered way, to the inner court. +But the court is a large, rough pasture, fenced on the north +and east, where the cliff is bare and perpendicular, and towards +the town shut in by a range of old wall, pierced by a +few embrasures, some low buildings, and the remains of +an ancient chapel. There is no picturesque assemblage of +ruins; but little indeed besides the shattered keep, and that +appears to best effect from without. Near the chapel, Our +Lady’s Well, a spring famous from time immemorial, bubbles +silently up in a darksome vault.</p> + +<p>Northwards the view extends along the rugged coast to the +Peak, a lofty point that looks down on Robin Hood’s Bay, +and to hazy elevations beyond Whitby. To get a sight of +the town you must return to the barbican, where you can +step up on the wall and securely enjoy a bird’s-eye view: +from the row of cannon which crown the precipice sheer +down to the port and away to the Spa, all lies outspread before +the curious eye.</p> + +<p>A great height, as we have already proved, appears to be +favourable to musing, especially when the sun shines bright. +And here there is much to muse about. Harold Hardrada, +when on his way to defeat and death at Stamford Brig, +landed here, and climbing the “Scarburg” with his wild sea-rovers, +lit a huge bonfire, and tossed the blazing logs over +the cliff down upon the town beneath. The burg, or fortress, +was replaced in the reign of Stephen by a castle, which, +renewed by Henry II., became one of the most important +strongholds of the kingdom. Piers Gavestone defended it +vigorously against the Earl of Pembroke, but was starved +into a surrender, with what result we all know. The Roman +Catholics attempted it during their Pilgrimage of Grace, but +were beaten off. In 1554, however, when Queen Mary was +trying to accomplish the Pilgrims’ work, a son of Lord Stafford +and thirty confederates, all disguised as rustics, sauntered +unsuspected into the outer court, where on a sudden +they surprised the sentries, and immediately admitting a +reserve party carrying concealed arms, they made themselves +masters of the place. The success of this surprise is said to +have given rise to the adage “Scarborough warning; a word +and a blow, and the blow first.” But after three days the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +Earl of Westmoreland regained possession, and Mr. Stafford +underwent the same sharp discipline as befel Edward the +Second’s favourite. At length came the struggle between +Prerogative and People, and in the triumph of the right the +castle was well-nigh demolished; and since then, time and +tempest have done the rest.</p> + +<p>Among the unfortunates who suffered imprisonment here, +George Fox, the aboriginal Quaker, has left us a most pathetic +account of his sufferings. Brought hither from Lancaster +Castle, he was put into a chamber which he likened to +purgatory for smoke, into which the rain beat, and after he +had “laid out about fifty shillings” to make it habitable, +“they removed me,” he writes in his <i>Journal</i>, “into a worse +room, where I had neither chimney nor fireplace. This +being to the sea-side and lying much open, the wind drove in +the rain forcibly, so that the water came over my bed and +ran about the room, that I was fain to skim it up with a +platter. And when my clothes were wet, I had no fire to +dry them; so that my body was benumbed with cold, and my +fingers swelled, that one was grown as big as two.” For +more than a year did the resolute Peacemaker endure pain +and privation, and vindicate his principles on this tall cliff; +and when three years later, in 1669, he again went preaching +in Yorkshire, he revisited Scarborough, and “the governor +hearing I was come,” he writes, “sent to invite me to his +house, saying, ‘surely I would not be so unkind as not to +come and see him and his wife.’ So after the meeting I +went up to visit him, and he received me very courteously +and lovingly.”</p> + +<p>Five hundred years earlier, and, as the ballad tells, the +merry outlaw, Robin Hood, who</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The Yorkshire woods frequented much,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>being a-weary of forest glades and fallow deer, exclaimed,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The fishermen brave more money have<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than any merchants two or three;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore I will to Scarborough go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I a fisherman brave may be.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But though the “widow woman” in whose house “he +took up his inn,” lent him a stout boat and willing crew, he +caught no fish, and the master laughed at him for a lubber.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +However, two or three days later, he espied a ship of war +sailing proudly towards them, and then it was the master’s +turn to lament, for the French robbers spared no man. To +him then Robin:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Master, tye me to the mast,’ saith he,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">‘That at my mark I may stand fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give me my bent bow in my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never a Frenchman will I spare.’<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“He drew his arrow to the very head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drew it with all might and maine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And straightway, in the twinkling of an eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the Frenchman’s heart the arrow’s gane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Then streight they boarded the French ship<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They lyeing all dead in their sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They found within that ship of warre<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twelve thousand pound of mony bright.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The castle is national property, and as the bluff affords a +good site for offence and defence, a magazine and barracks +for a company of men have been built. For all garrison, +at the time of my visit, there was but one invalid artilleryman, +who employs his leisure in constructing models of the +ruins for sale along with bottles of ginger beer. He will +talk to you about the nice water of Our Lady’s Well; the +cavern in the cliff, where the officers once dined; of the +cannon balls that Cromwell sent across from Oliver’s Mount; +about the last whale caught on the shore, and about the West +Indies, where he lost his health; but he remembers little or +nothing of Piers Gavestone or George Fox, and is not quite +sure if he ever heard that Robin Hood went a-privateering. +His duties, he told me, were not heavy; he did not even lock +the gate at night, because folk came very early in the morning +to fetch their cows from the pasture.</p> + +<p>Since then, that is, in the autumn of 1857, the rains occasioned +a landslip, which nearly obliterated the cavern; a +whale thirty feet long was caught floundering in the shallows; +and on Seamer Moor, about three miles distant, ancient +gold and silver rings and ornaments, beads and broken pottery, +and implements of bronze and iron and a skeleton, were +found on excavating a chalky knoll.</p> + +<p>Of course, a town of thirteen thousand inhabitants must +have its newspapers. The <i>Scarborough Gazette</i> is a curiosity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +for its long list of visitors, filling sometimes two pages. A +cheap paper—the title of which I have lost—was a curiosity +to me in another way, for I could not have believed that +Yorkshire folk would read anything so stupid as the wordy +columns therein passed off for politics.</p> + +<p>The shadows were lengthening towards the east when, +after satisfying myself with another look at the coast to the +north, I took the road for Cloughton, leaving the town by the +north esplanade, where Blenheim-terrace shows the sober +style of the first improvements. Many visitors, however, +prefer the view from those plain bay-windows to that seen +from the stately houses to the south.</p> + +<p>Cloughton is a small quiet village, with a <i>Red Lion</i> to +match, where you may get good rustic fare—cakes, bacon, +and eggs—and a simple chamber. The landlord, a patriarch +of eighty-five, still hale, and active, who sat warming his +knees at the turf fire, opened his budget of reminiscences +concerning Scarborough. The change from what it was to +what it is, was wonderful. He went there at election times. +Had once been to vote at York, years ago, “when there was +a hard fight betuxt a Milton and a Lascelles.” Had never +been to London, but his niece went up to the Great Exhibition. +While we talked, in came a shabby-looking fellow +with a six days’ beard, for a pint of beer. He had been +trout-fishing all day on the moors—one of his means of +living. He stayed but a few minutes, and as he went out +the patriarch said, “He’s a roughish one to look at, but he +can make powetry.” It was too late to call him back, or I +might perhaps have got a specimen.</p> + +<p>Then came in the rustics in twos and threes for their +evening pint and pipe, most of them preferring hard porter to +the ale, which was really good. Not one had a complaint to +make of hard times: wages were one and sixpence a day, +and meat, and good meat, too—beef and mutton and pies—as +much as they could eat. They didn’t want to emigrate; +Yorkshire was quite good enough for them. While talking +to them and listening to their conversation among themselves, +my old conviction strengthened that the rural folk are not +the fools they are commonly taken to be. Choose such words +as they are familiar with—such as John Bunyan uses—and +you can make them understand any ordinary subject and take +pleasure in it. And how happy they are when you can sug<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>gest +an illustration from something common to their daily +life! I would have undertaken to give an hour’s lecture on +terrestrial magnetism even, to that company; and not one +should have wished it shorter. And once having broken +through their crust of awkwardness, you find them possessed +of a good fund of common sense, quick to discern between +the plausible and what they feel to be true. Flattering +speeches made at hay-homes and harvest-homes are taken for +what they are worth; and the sunburnt throng are everywhere +ready to applaud the sentiment conveyed in a reaper’s +reply to a complimentary toast:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Big bees fly high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little bees make the honey:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor men do the work;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich men get the money.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>One of the party, lively enough to have lived when the +island was “merry England,” hearing that I intended to +walk through Bay Town on the morrow, said, laughingly, +“You’ll find nought but <i>Tudds</i> and <i>Pooads</i> down there;” +meaning that Todd and Poad were the prevalent names.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">From Cloughton to Haiburn Wyke—The embowered Path—Approach to the +Sea—Rock, Water, and Foliage—Heavy Walking—Staintondale +Cliffs—The +Undercliff—The Peak—Raven Hall—Robin Hood’s Bay—A Trespass—Alum +Works—Waterfalls—Bay Town—Manners and Customs of the Natives—Coal +Trade—The Churchyard—Epitaphs—Black-a-moor—Hawsker—Vale +of Pickering—Robin Hood and Little John’s Archery—Whitby +Abbey—Beautiful Ruin—St. Hilda, Wilfrid, and Cœdmon—Legends—A +Fallen Tower—St. Mary’s Church—Whitby—The Vale of Esk—Specimens +of Popular Hymns.</p> + +<p>The next morning looked unpromising; the heavy rain which +began to fall the evening before had continued all night, and +when I started, trees and hedges were still dripping and the +grass drooping, overburdened with watery beads. Bye-paths +are not enticing under such circumstances: however, the +range of cliffs between Haiburn Wyke and Robin Hood’s Bay +is so continuously grand and lofty that I made up my mind +to walk along their summit whether or not.</p> + +<p>About half an hour from Cloughton brought me to a +‘crammle gate,’ as the natives call it; that is, a rustic gate +with zigzaggy rails, from which a private road curves down +through a grove to a farm-house on the right. Here, finding +no outlet, I had to inquire, and was told to cross the garden. +All praise to the good-nature which trusts a stranger to lift +the “clinking latch” and walk unwatched through a garden +so pretty, teeming with fruit, flowers, and vegetables; where +a path overarched by busy climbers leads you into pleasing +ins and outs, and along blooming borders to the edge of a +wooded glen, and that is Haiburn Wyke. The path, not +trimly kept as in the garden, invites you onwards beneath a +thick shade of oak, ash, and hazel; between clumps of honeysuckle +and wild roses, and broken slopes hung with ferns and +ivy, and a very forest of grasses; while, to heighten the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +charm, a little brook descends prattling confidingly to the +many stones that lie in its crooked channel. The path winds, +now steep, now gradual, and at the bends a seat offers a +resting-place if you incline to pause and meditate.</p> + +<p>There was another charm: at first a fitful murmur which +swelled into a roar as I sauntered down and came nearer to the +sea. The trees grow so thickly that I could see but a few +yards around, and there seemed something almost awful in +the sound of the thundering surge, all the heavier in the damp +air, as it plunged on the rugged beach: so near, and yet +unseen. But after another bend or two it grows lighter +overhead, crags peep through the foliage on both sides, and +then emerging on a level partly filled by a summer-house, you +see the narrow cove, the jutting cliffs that shelter it, and every +minute the tumultuous sea flinging all round the stony curve +a belt of quivering foam.</p> + +<p>I could not advance far, for the tide had but just begun to +fall; however, striding out as far as possible, I turned to look +at the glen. It is a charming scene: the leafy hollow, the cliffs +rounding away from the mantling green to present a bare front +to the sea, yet patched and streaked with gray and yellow and +white and brown, as if to make up for loss of verdure. There +the brook, tumbling over stony ledges, shoots into a cascade +between huge masses of rock, and hurries still with lively +noise across the beach, talking as freely to boulders of five +tons’ weight as to stones of a pound; heedless, apparently, +that its voice will soon be drowned for ever in the mighty +voice of the sea. It is a charming scene, truly, even under a +gloomy sky: you will see none fairer on all the coast. On a +sunshiny day it should attract many visitors from Scarborough, +when those able to walk might explore Cloughton Wyke—less +beautiful than this—on the way.</p> + +<p>To get up the steep clay road all miry with the rain on the +northern side of the glen, was no easy task; but the great ball +of clay which clung to each of my feet was soon licked off by +the wet grass in the fields above. I took the edge of the +cliffs, and found the ascent to the Staintondale summit not +less toilsome. There was no path, and wading through the +rank grass and weeds, or through heavy wheat and drenched +barley on ground always up-hill, wetted me through up to the +hips in a few minutes, and gave me a taste of work. For +the time I did not much admire the Yorkshire thriftiness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +which had ploughed and sown so close to the bank leaving no +single inch of space. However, I came at times to a bare +field or a pasture, and the freshening breeze blew me almost +dry before climbing over awkward fences for another bath of +weeds and grain. And besides, a few faint watery gleams of +sunshine began to slant down upon the sea, and the increasing +height of the cliffs opened wide views over land and water—from +misty hills looming mountainous on one side, to the +distant smoke of a coasting steamer on the other. And again +there are two or three miles of undercliff, a great slope covered +with a dense bush threaded here and there by narrow paths, +and forming in places an impenetrable tangle. To stand on +the highest point, five hundred and eighty-five feet above the +sea, and look down on the precipitous crags, the ridges and +hollows and rounded buttresses decked with the mazy bush +where birds without number haunt, is a sight that repays the +labour. At the corner of one of the fields the bushes lean +inwards so much from the wind, that the farmer has taken +advantage of the overshoot to construct a bower wherein to sit +and enjoy the prospect.</p> + +<p>These tall cliffs are the sudden termination of a range of +hills stretching from the interior to the coast. Taken with +the undercliff, they present many combinations which would +delight the eye and employ the pencil of an artist. And to +the geologist they are of abounding interest, exhibiting shale, +shelly limestone, sandstones of various qualities in which +belemnites and ferns, and other animal and vegetable fossils, +are embedded in surprising quantities. You can descend here +and there by a zigzag path, and look up at the towering crags, +or search the fallen masses, or push into the thicket; that is, +in dry weather. After about two miles the bush thins off, +and gives place to gorse, and reedy ponds in the hollows, and +short turf on which cattle and sheep are grazing.</p> + +<p>The range continues for perhaps five miles and ends in a +great perpendicular bluff—a resort of sea-birds. Here on +getting over the fence I noticed that the pasture had a well-kept, +finished appearance; and presently, passing the corner +of a wall, I found myself on a lawn, and in front of Raven +Hall—a squire’s residence. An embrasured wall built to +represent bastions and turrets runs along the edge of the cliff, +and looking over, you see beneath the grand sweep of Robin +Hood’s Bay backed by a vast hollow slope—a natural amphi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>theatre +a league in compass, containing fields and meadows, +shaly screes and patches of heath, cottages, and the Peak +alum-works. We are on the Peak, and can survey the whole +scene, away to Bay Town, a patch of red capped by pale-blue +smoke just within the northern horn of the bay.</p> + +<p>A lady and gentleman were trying in defiance of the wind +to haul up a flag on the tall staff erected at the point, to whom +I apologised for my unintentional trespass. They needed no +apology, and only wondered that any one should travel along +the cliffs on such a morning. “Did you do it for pleasure?” +asked the lady, with a merry twinkle in her eye, as she saw +how bedraggled I looked below the knees.</p> + +<p>The gentleman left the flapping banner, and showed me +from the rear of the premises the readiest way down to the +beach—a very long irregular descent, the latter portion across +the alum shale, and down the abrupt slope of Cinder Hill, +where the buildings are blackened by smoke. At first the +beach is nothing but a layer of small fragments of shale, of a +dark slate-colour, refuse from the works; and where the cliffs +reappear there you see shale in its natural condition, and feel +it beneath your feet while treading on the yielding sand. +Numerous cascades leap down from these cliffs; at the time I +passed swollen by the rain, and well set off by the dark +precipice. One of them was a remarkably good representation +of the <i>Staubbach</i> on a small scale.</p> + +<p>About half way I met a gig conveying visitors to the Hall +at a walking pace, for the wheels sank deep. It was for +them that the flag was to be raised, as a signal of welcome; +and looking back I saw it flying proudly, on what, seen from +below, appeared a castle on the cliff. At this moment the +sun shone out, and lit up the Peak in all its magnificent +proportions; and the effects of my trudge through drip and +mire soon disappeared. Another mile and the rocks are +thickly strewn with periwinkles, and great plashy beds of +seaweed must be crossed, and then we see that the outermost +houses rest on a solid weather-stained wall of boulders, +through which descends a rugged incline of big stones—the +foot of the main street of Bay Town.</p> + +<p>There is no lack of quarters, for within a few yards you +may count seven public-houses. It is a strange place, with +alleys which are stairs for side streets, and these leading into +queer places, back yards and pigstyes, and little gardens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +thriving with pot-herbs. Everything is on a slope, overtopped +by the green hill behind. Half way up the street, in +what looks like a market-place, lie a number of boats, as if +for ornament. You can hardly imagine them to have been +hauled up from the beach. Some of the shops are curiosities +in their appearance and display of wares; yet there are +traders in Bay Town who could buy up two or three of your +fashionable shopkeepers in the watering-places.</p> + +<p>“Yer master wants ye,” said a messenger to a young +fellow who sat smoking his pipe in the <i>King’s Head</i>, while +Martha, the hostess, fried a chop for my dinner.</p> + +<p>“Tell him I isn’t here: I isn’t a coomin’,” was the answer, +with a touch of Yorkshire, which I heard frequently +afterwards.</p> + +<p>From the talk that went on I gathered that Bay Town likes +to amuse itself as well as other places. All through the past +winter a ball or dance had been held nearly every evening, in +the large rooms which, it appears, are found somewhere +belonging to the very unpretending public-houses. On the +other hand, church and chapel are well attended, and the +singing is hearty. Weddings and funerals are made the +occasion of festivals, and great is the number of guests. +Martha assured me that two hundred persons were invited +when her father was buried; and even for a child, the number +asked will be forty or fifty; and all get something to eat and +drink. It was commonly said in the neighbourhood that the +head of a Bay Town funeral procession would be at the church +before the tail had left the house. The church is on the hill-top, +nearly a mile away. A clannish feeling prevails. Any +lad or lass who should chose to wed with an outsider, would +be disgraced. Ourselves to ourselves, is the rule. On their +way home from church, the young couple are beset by invitations +to drink at door after door, as they pass, and jugs of +strong liquor are bravely drained, and all the eighteen +hundred inhabitants share in the gladness. Hence the perpetuation +of Todds and Poads. However, as regards names, +the most numerous which I saw were Granger and Bedlington, +or Bettleton, as the natives call it.</p> + +<p>The trade in fish has given place to trade in coal; and Bay +Town owns about eighty coal brigs and schooners, which sail +to Edinburgh, to London, to ports in France, and one, which +belongs to a man who a few years ago was a labourer, crosses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +the ocean to America. There are no such miserable paupers +as swarm in the large towns. Except the collier crews, the +folk seldom leave the parish; and their farthest travel is to +Hartlepool in the steamer which calls in the bay on her way +from Scarborough.</p> + +<p>I chose to finish the walk to Whitby by the road; and in +a few minutes, so steep is the hill, was above Bay Town, and +looking on the view bounded by the massy Peak. Near +where the lane enters the high road stands the church, a +modern edifice, thickly surrounded with tombstones. Black +with gilt letters, appears to be the favourite style; and among +them are white stones, bearing outspread gilt wings and stars, +and an ornamental border. The clannish feeling loves to keep +alive the memory of the departed; and one might judge that +it has the gift of “powetry,” and delights in epitaphs. Let +us read a few: we shall find “drowned at sea,” and +“mariner,” a frequent word in the inscriptions:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Partner dear my life is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love for you was to the last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore for me no sorrow take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But love my children for my sake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>An old man of eighty-two is made to say:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From raging storms at sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lord he did me save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here my tottering limbs is brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To moulder in the grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Lancelot Moorsom, aged seventy-four, varies the matter +thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tho’ boreas blast and neptune waves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath toss’d me too and fro’,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By God’s decree you plainly see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I’m harbour’d here below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here I do at anchor ride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With many of our fleet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And once again I must set sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My Saviour Christ to meet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Of a good old wife, we read something for which the sex +would be the better were it true of all:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She was not puff’d in mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She had no scornful eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor did she exercise herself<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In things that were too high.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Childhood claims a tender sentiment; and parents mourn +thus for their little ones:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One hand they gave to Jesus, one to Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looking upward to their Father’s throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gentle spirits vanish’d with their breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fled to Eden’s ever blooming zone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The road runs along the high ground near enough to the +sea for you to hear its roar, and note the outline of the cliffs, +while inland the country rolls away hilly to the dreary region +described by old writers as “Black-a-moor.” Another half-hour, +and having passed through Hawsker, you see a strange-looking +building a long way off. It is the Abbey of Whitby. +And now a view opens into the Vale of Pickering; and there, +in the fields on the left, are the stones which mark where the +arrows fell, when Robin Hood and Little John, who had been +treated to a dinner at the Abbey, went up on the roof to +gratify the monks with a specimen of their skill, and proved +the goodness of their bows, and their right to rank as foremost +of English archers. As your eye measures the distance, more +than a mile, your admiration of the merry outlaws will +brighten up, unless like the incredulous antiquary, you consider +such stories as only fit to be left “among the lyes of the +land.”</p> + +<p>Seen from the road, over the wall-top, the abbey reveals +but few of the beautiful features which charm your eye on a +nearer view. To gain admission you have to pass through an +old mansion belonging to the Cholmley family, in which, by +the way, there are rooms, and passages, and a stair, weapons, +furniture, and tapestry that remind you of the olden time; +and in the rear a delightful garden, with a prospect along the +vale of Esk. From the garden you enter a meadow, and may +wander at will about the ruin.</p> + +<p>I saw it to perfection, for the sky had cleared, and the +evening sun touched the crumbling walls and massy columns +and rows of graceful arches with wondrous beauty, relieved +by the lengthening shadows. The effect of the triple rows +of windows is singularly pleasing, and there are carvings and +mouldings still remaining that will bear the closest inspection, +although it was a mason of the thirteenth century who cut +them. Three distinct styles are obvious, and you will notice +that the whitest stone, which is the oldest, is the least decayed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +An aisle still offers you the shelter of its groined roof, the +transept still shows the corbels and niches, and carved roses +that fed the eyes of Robin Hood’s entertainers, and on the +sedilia where they sat you may now repose. Every moment +you discover some new beauty, something to increase your +admiration, and wonder that so much should be left of a +building which has not a tree to shelter it from the storms of +the sea.</p> + +<p>For twelve hundred years the ground has been consecrated. +Here the blessed St. Hilda founded a monastery, and dedicated +it to St. Peter, in 658. Here it was that the famous debate +was held concerning the proper time of Easter between the +Christians who were converted by Culdee missionaries from +Ireland before St. Augustine’s visit, and those of the later +time. It was St. John and the practice of the Eastern Church +against St. Peter and the Western; and through the eloquent +arguments of Wilfrid of Ripon, the latter prevailed.</p> + +<p>Here Cœdmon, one of the menial monks, was miraculously +inspired to write the poem which immortalises his name; +and here St. John of Beverley was educated. Then came the +Danish pirates under Ubba, and destroyed the monastery, +and the place lay waste till one of William the Conqueror’s +warriors, grieved to the heart on beholding the desolation, +exchanged his coat of steel for a Benedictine’s gown, and +rebuilt the sacred house.</p> + +<p>Few who come hither will need to be reminded of that +inspiriting voyage along the coast, when</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The Abbess of St. Hilda placed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With five fair nuns the galley graced,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>nor of the sisters’ evening talk, while</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“—Whitby’s nuns exulting told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How to their house three barons bold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must menial service do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While horns blow out a note of shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And monks cry ‘Fye upon your name!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wrath, for loss of sylvan game,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">St. Hilda’s priest ye slew.’—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This on Ascension day, each year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While labouring on our harbour-pier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They told how in their convent cell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Saxon princess once did dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lovely Edelfled;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how of thousand snakes, each one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was changed into a coil of stone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When holy Hilda pray’d;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Themselves, within their holy bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their stony folds had often found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They told how seafowls’ pinions fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As over Whitby’s towers they sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sinking down, with flutterings faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They do their homage to the saint.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The stately tower, the glory of the ruin, fell in 1830, at +the close of a reign, during which things good and beautiful +were unhappily but too much neglected. A rugged heap, with +lumps of stone peeping out from tufts of coarse grass, marks +the spot where the fall took place; the last, it is to be hoped, +that will be permitted in so striking a memorial of the +architecture of the past. Standing in private grounds and +surrounded by a light iron fence, it is now safe from the +intrusion of cattle and from wanton spoilers.</p> + +<p>A few yards beyond the abbey, you cross St. Mary’s churchyard +to the top of a long flight of steps, where a remarkable +scene opens suddenly beneath. Whitby, lying on each side +of the Esk, the river winding from a wooded vale, expanding +to receive the numerous vessels of the inner harbour, and +flowing away between the houses and the two piers to the sea. +The declivity is so abrupt, that the houses appear strangely +huddled together, tier above tier, in irregular masses, as if +resting one on the other, and what with the colour and variety +of forms, the shipping, the great depth of the valley, the great +bluffs with which it terminates, and line upon line of breakers +beginning to foam at two furlongs from the shore, make up a +scene surpassingly picturesque; one that you will be in no +hurry to lose sight of. If the Whitby church-goers find it +toilsome to ascend nearly two hundred steps every Sunday, +they have a goodly prospect for recompense, besides the +service.</p> + +<p>One wall of the church is said to be older than any portion +of the abbey; but the edifice has undergone so many alterations, +that meritorious architecture is not now to be looked +for. A more breezy churchyard it would not be easy to find. +Opposite, on the farther cliff, is a cluster of new stone houses, +including a spacious hotel, built to attract visitors; an enterprise +promoted by King George Hudson in his palmy days.</p> + +<p>I lingered, contemplating the view, till it was time to look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +for an inn; I chose the <i>Talbot</i>, and had no reason to repent +my choice. On the way thither, I bought two religious +ballads at a little shop, the mistress of which told me she sold +“hundreds of ’em,” and that they were printed at Otley. As +specimens of a class of compositions which are relished and +sung as hymns by a numerous section of the community, they +are eminently suggestive. Do they supply a real want? +Are they harmless? Are they edifying? Can they who find +satisfaction therein be led up to something better? To close +this chapter, here follows a quotation from <i>The Railway to +Heaven</i>:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“O! what a deal we hear and read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About Railways and railway speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lines which are, or may be made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And selling shares is quite a trade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Allow me, as an old Divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To point you to another line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which does from earth to heaven extend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where real pleasures never end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of truth divine the rails are made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the Rock of Ages laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rails are fix’d in chairs of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Firm as the throne of God above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One grand first-class is used for all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Jew and Gentile, great and small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There’s room for all the world inside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kings with beggars here do ride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">About a hundred years or so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wesley and others said they’d go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A carriage mercy did provide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Wesley and his friends might ride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">’Tis nine-and-thirty years, they say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whoever lives to see next May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another coach was added then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto this all important train.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jesus is the first engineer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He does the gospel engine steer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We’ve guards who ride, while others stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close by the way with flag in hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">CHORUS.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“My son, says God, give me thy heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make haste, or else the train will start.”<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>The other, entitled <i>Daniel the Prophet</i>, begins with:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Where are now the Hebrew children?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are now the Hebrew children?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are now the Hebrew children?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saved into the promised land;”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and after enumerating the prophet, the fiery furnace, the +lion, tribulation, Stephen, and the Great Apostle, in similar +strain, ends:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Where is now the patriarch Wesley?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is now the patriarch Wesley?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is now the patriarch Wesley?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saved into the promised land.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">CHORUS.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“When we meet we’ll sing hallelujah,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we meet we’ll shout hosannah,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we meet we’ll sing for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saved into the promised land.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Though good taste and conventionality may be offended at +such hymns as these, it seems to me that if those who sing +them had words preached to them which they could understand +and hearken to gladly, they would be found not unprepared +to lay hold of real truth in the end.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Whitby’s Attractions—The Pier—The River-Mouth—The Museum—Saurians +and Ammonites—An enthusiastic Botanist—Jet in the Cliffs, and in the +Workshop—Jet Carvers and Polishers—Jet Ornaments—The Quakers’ +Meeting—A Mechanics’ Institute—Memorable Names—A Mooky Miner—Trip +to Grosmont—The Basaltic Dike—Quarries and Ironstone—Thrifty +Cottagers—Abbeys and Hovels—A Stingy Landlord—Egton Bridge—Eskdale +Woods—The Beggar’s Bridge.</p> + +<p>Whitby, and not Scarborough, would be my choice had I +to sojourn for a few weeks on the Yorkshire coast. What +it lacks of the style and show which characterize its aristocratic +neighbour, is more than made up by its situation on a +river and the beauty of its neighbourhood; and I regretted +not having time to stay more than one day in a place that +offers so many attractions. Woods and waterfalls beautify +and enliven the landscape; shady dells and rocky glens lie +within an easy walk, and the trip by rail to Pickering +abounds with “contentive variety.” And for contrast there +is always the wild Black-a-moor a few miles inland; and +beyond that again the pleasant hills and vales of Cleveland.</p> + +<p>And few towns can boast so agreeable a promenade as +that from the bridge, along the spacious quay, and out to +the pier-head, a distance of nearly half a mile. Thence can +be seen all the life and movement on the river, all the picturesque +features of the heights on each side crowded with +houses, and to seaward the foaming crests of waves chasing +one another towards the land. You can see how, after +rolling and plunging on the rocky bar, they rush up the +stream with a mighty swell even to the bridge. In blowing +weather their violence is such that vessels cannot lie safely +in the lower harbour, and must shift to the upper moorings +above the bridge. On the pier-head stands a lighthouse, +built in the form of a fluted Doric column, crowned by a +gallery and lantern; and here, leaning on the encircling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +parapet, you can admire the solid masonry, or watch the +furious breakers, while inhaling the medicinal breath of the +sea. The pier on the opposite side is more exposed, serving +the purpose of a breakwater; and at times clouds of spray +leap high from its outer wall, and glisten for an instant with +rainbow hues in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>It surprises a stranger on first arrival to hear what seems +to him the south bank of the river spoken of as the east bank, +and the north bank as the west; and it is only by taking into +account the trend of the coast, and the direction of the river’s +course, that the cardinal points are discovered to be really in +their true position, and you cease to look for sunrise in the west.</p> + +<p>One of the buildings at the rear of the quay contains the +Baths, and on the upper floor the Museum, and a good +Subscription Library. The Museum, which belongs to the +Literary and Philosophical Society, dates from 1823, a time +when Whitby, with the sea on one side and wild tracts of +moorlands on the other, was in a manner shut out from the +rest of the world, and compelled to rely on its own resources. +Not till 1759 was any proper road made to connect it with +neighbouring towns. Warm hospitality was thereby nourished, +and, as regards science, the result is highly meritorious. To +say nothing of the collections which represent antiquity, +ethnology, natural history, and mineralogy, the fossil specimens +are especially worth attention. Side by side with a +section of the strata of the coast from Bridlington to Redcar +is a collection of the fossils therein contained; among which +those of the immediate neighbourhood, such as may be called +Whitby fossils, occupy the chief place, all classed and labelled +in a way that shows how much may be done with small means +when the curator is in earnest. There are saurians in good +preservation, one of which was presented to the Museum for +150<i>l.</i>, by the nobleman on whose estate it was found embedded +in lias. The number of ammonites of all sizes is +surprising. These are the headless snakes of St. Hilda’s nuns, +and the “strange frolicks of Nature,” of philosophers in later +days, who held that she formed them “for diversion after a +toilsome application to serious business.” Perhaps it is to +some superstitious notion connected with the snake-stones +that the town owes the three ammonites in its coat of arms. +In all, the fossil specimens in the Museum now amount to +nearly nine thousand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>I had the advantage of explanations from Mr. Simpson, the +curator, during my visit, and afterwards of accompanying +him and some of his friends on a walk. One of the party, a +botanist, was the first to discover the <i>Epilobium alpinum</i> +(alpine willow herb) in England, while walking one day on +the hills near Whitby. No sooner did he set eyes on it, than, +as his companions said, they thought he had taken leave of +his senses, for he leaped, shouted, danced, sang, and threw his +hat up in the air, and made other enthusiastic demonstrations +around the plant, which, up to that time, was believed not to +exist south of the Tweed. I asked him if he would have +exchanged his emotions for California.</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered, “that I wouldn’t! At all events, +not for the first three minutes.”</p> + +<p>Besides its traffic in ship-building, alum, and stone, Whitby +has a trade in works of art which makes at least its name +known to fashionable society; and for this, as for its fossils, it +depends on the neighbouring cliffs. For many miles along +the shore, and at places inland, jet is found embedded with +other formations. Drayton makes mention of it:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The rocks by Moulgrave too, my glories forth to set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of their crany’d cleves can give you perfect jet.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And the shaping of this remarkable substance into articles +for ornament and use gives employment to five hundred men, +women, and children in Whitby. I was favoured with a +sight of Mr. Greenbury’s manufactory, and saw the processes +from beginning to end. There is nothing mysterious about +them. The pattern of the desired object, a scroll, leaf, +flower, or whatever else, is scratched with a steel point on a +piece of jet sawn to the required dimensions; the workman +then with a knife cuts away the waste portions, brings out the +rude form, and by using various knives and chisels, according +to the delicacy of the design, he in no long time has the +article ready for the polisher. The work looks very easy, as +you watch the men cutting, apparently with less concern than +some folk bestow on the whittling of a stick, and making the +chips fly in little heaps. The nature of the jet favours +rapidity of hand. It has somewhat the appearance of compressed +pitch, and when under the knife sends off a shower of +chips and splinters as hard pitch does. Some specimens have +been found with fossils so embedded therein, as to confirm the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +opinion of those who hold jet to be a species of petroleum, +contrary to the common belief that it is wood partly converted +into coal.</p> + +<p>After the knives, the grindstones come into play, to work +up and smooth all the accessible surfaces; and next swift-whirling +wheels encircled with list, which give the polish. +The deep incisions and hollows which cannot be touched by +the wheel are polished on narrow slips of list. This is the +work of boys: the slips of list are made fast by one end to +the bench, and taking hold of the other, and shifting or tightening +as the work may require, the boys rub the deep parts of +the ornaments backwards and forwards till the polish is +complete. The finishing touch, which imparts the brilliance, +is given by a sprinkling of rouge, and a light hand with the +rubber.</p> + +<p>Armlets and bracelets composed of several pieces are cemented +together, forming a complete hoop, while in course +of manufacture, to ensure accuracy of workmanship, and are +separated at last for the drilling of the holes for the elastic +cord whereby they are held together in the finished state. +The drilling of these holes through each separate piece is a +nice operation, for any departure from the true line would appear +as an imperfection in the ornament.</p> + +<p>What with the drilling lathes, the rapid grindstones and +polishing-wheels, and the busy artificers, from those who cut +up the jet, to the roughers-out, the carvers, the polishers in +their order, to the boys with their list rubbers, and the finishers, +the factory presented a busy scene. The boys earn from three-and-sixpence +to five shillings a week; the men from three to +four times as much. I made an inquiry as to their economical +habits, and heard in reply that the landlord of the <i>Jetmen’s +Arms</i> could give the surest information.</p> + +<p>No means have yet been discovered of working up the chips +and splinters produced in cutting the jet, so as to form solid +available blocks, as can be done with black-lead for pencils; +there is, therefore, a considerable amount of waste. The +value of jet varies with the quality; from ten to eighteen +shillings a pound. According to the report on mineral products, +by Mr. Robert Hunt, the value of the jet dug and manufactured +in England is twenty thousand pounds a year. Some of the +best shops in Whitby and Scarborough are those where jet is +sold; and not the least attractive of the displays in Regent-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>street, +is that labelled <i>Finest Whitby Jet</i>, and exhibited as +vases, chains, rings, seals, brooches, taper-stands, and obelisks. +Here in Whitby you may buy a small ammonite set in jet.</p> + +<p>Jet is not a new object of luxury. It was used for ornamental +purposes by the ancient Britons, and by their conquerors, +as proved by articles found in their tombs. A trade +in jet is known to have existed in Whitby in 1598. Camden, +translating from an old <i>Treatise of Jewels</i>, has</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Jeat-stone almost a gemm, the Lybians find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fruitful Britain sends a wondrous kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Tis black and shining, smooth, and ever light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Twill draw up straws if rubb’d till hot and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oyl makes it cold, but water gives it heat.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The amber mines of Prussia yield a species of jet which is +burnt as a coal.</p> + +<p>Whitby presents signs of a social phenomenon which is +observable in other places: the decline of Quakerism. I was +invited to look at the Mechanics’ Institute, and found it located +in the Quakers’ Meeting House. The town was one of George +Fox’s strongholds, and a considerable number of Quakers, +including some of the leading families, remained up to the last +generation. Death and secession have since then brought +about the result above-mentioned. Is it that Quakerism has +accomplished its work? or that it has been stifled by the +assiduous painstaking to make itself very comfortable?</p> + +<p>I went up once more to the Abbey, and to enjoy the view +from the churchyard steps. The trouble of the ascent is +abundantly repaid by such a prospect: one should never tire +of it. On moonlight nights, and in a certain state of the +atmosphere, there is another attraction. It is a sight of Saint +Hilda. Incredulous as you may be, there are maidens in +Whitby who will tell you that the famous Abbess is still to +be seen hovering near the Abbey she loved so well. And when +the moon is in the right place, and a thin, pale mist floats +slowly past, then, in one of the windows, appears the image +of the saintly lady. Scott and other writers mention it; and +Professor Rymer Jones tells me that he once saw it, and with +an illusion so complete, as might easily have deceived a +superstitious beholder.</p> + +<p>While looking down on the river you will hardly fail to +remember that Cook sailed from it, to begin his apprenticeship +to a seafaring life; and profiting in later years by his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +early experience, he chose Whitby-built ships for his memorable +voyage of discovery. And from the Esk sailed the two +Scoresbys, father and son—two of the latest names on the list +of Yorkshire Worthies.</p> + +<p>During the summer many an excursion train, or ‘chape +trip,’ as the natives say, brings thousands of the hardworking +population of the West Riding, to enjoy a brief holiday by +the sea. There once arrived a party of miners two of whom +hastened down to the beach to bathe. As they undressed one +said to the other “Hey, Sam, hoo mooky thou is!” “Aw +miss’d t’ chape trip last year,” was the laconic and significant +reply.</p> + +<p>Towards evening I took a trip by railway to Grosmont (six +miles), or the Tunnel Station as it is commonly called, for a +glance at the pretty scenery of the lower part of Eskdale. +The river bordered by rocks and wooded hills enlivens the +route. From the Tunnel I walked about half a mile down +the line to a stone quarry, where a section of that remarkable +basaltic dike is exposed, which, crossing the country in a +north-westerly direction for about seventy miles, impresses the +observer with a sense of wonder at the tremendous force by +which such a mass was upheaved through the overlying +strata. Here it has the form of a great wedge, the apex +uppermost; and the sandstone, which it so rudely shouldered +aside, is scorched and partially vitrified along the line of +contact. The labourers, who break up the hard black basalt +for macadamising purposes, call it ‘chaney metal.’</p> + +<p>This is a pleasant spot to loiter in; but its sylvan character +is marred by the quarrying, and by the great excavations +where busy miners dig the ironstone which abounds in the +district, after the rate, as is estimated, of twenty-two thousand +tons to the acre; no unimportant item in the exports of +Whitby, until blast furnaces shall be built to make the iron on +the spot.</p> + +<p>“The path ’ll tak’ ye up to a laan,” said the quarryman, +with a Dutch pronunciation of lane; “and t’ laan ’ll bring +ye doon to Egton, if ye don’t tak’ t’ wrang turning.” So up +through the wood I went, and came presently to the lane, +where seeing a lonely little cottage, and a woman nursing a +few flowers that grew near the door, I tarried for a short talk. +’Twas but a poor little place, she said, and vera lonesome; +and she thought a few flowers made it look cheerful-like.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +The rent for the house and garden was but a pound a year; +but ’twas as much as she could afford, for she had had ten +children, and was thankful to say, brought ’em all up without +parish help. ’Twas hard work at times; but folk didn’t know +what they could do till they tried. It animated me to hear +such honest words.</p> + +<p>A little farther there stands a long low cottage with a +garden in front, an orchard at the side, and a row of beehives +in a corner, presenting a scene of rural abundance. I stopped +to look at the crowding flowers, and was drawn into another +talk by the mistress, who came out on seeing a stranger. I +could not help expressing my surprise at the prosperous look +of the garden, and the shabby look of the house, which +appeared the worse from a narrow ditch running along the +front. “’Tis a miserable house,” she answered, “damp and +low; but what can we do? It’s all very well, sir, to talk +about the beautiful abbeys as they used to build in the old +days, but they didn’t build beautiful cottages. I always think +that they built the wall till they couldn’t reach no higher +standing on the ground, and then they put the roof on. +That’s it, sir; anything was good enough for country-folk in +them days.” Some modern writers contend that the abbeys +and cathedrals were but the highest expression of an architecture +beautiful and appropriate in all its degrees; but I doubt +the fact, and hold by the Yorkshirewoman’s homely theory.</p> + +<p>I suggested that the landlord might be asked to build a new +house. “Ah, sir, you wouldn’t say that if you knew him. +Why, he won’t so much as give us a board to mend the door; +he’ll only tell us where to go and buy one.” I might have +felt surprised that any landlord should be willing to allow +English men and women to dwell in such a hovel; but she +told me his name, and then there was no room for surprise.</p> + +<p>Ere long the view opens over the valley, and a charming +valley it is; hill after hill covered with wood to the summit. +Then the lane descends rapidly, and we come to the romantically +situated hamlet of Egton Bridge. This is a place +which, above all others, attracts visitors and picnic parties +from Whitby, and the <i>Oak Tree</i> is the very picture of a rustic +hostelry. Here you may fancy yourself in a deep wooded +glen; and, if limited for time, will have an embarrassing +choice of walks. Arncliffe woods offer cool green shades, and +a fine prospect from the ridge beyond, with the opportunity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +to visit an ancient British village. But few can resist the +charm of the Beggar’s Bridge, a graceful structure of a single +arch, which spans the Esk in a sequestered spot delightful to +the eye and refreshing to the ear, with the gurgling of water +and rustling of leaves. There is a legend, too, for additional +charm: how that a young dalesman, on his way to say farewell +to his betrothed, was stopped here by the stream swollen with +a sudden flood, and, spite of his efforts to cross, was forced to +retrace his steps and sail beyond the sea to seek fortune in a +distant land. He vowed, if his hopes were gratified, to build +a bridge on his return; and, to quote Mrs. George Dawson’s +pretty version of the legend,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The rover came back from a far distant land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he claimed of the maiden her long-promised hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he built, ere he won her, the bridge of his vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lovers of Egton pass over it now.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A pleasant twilight walk among the trees, within hearing of +the rippling Esk, brought me back to the Tunnel in time for +the last train to Whitby.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">To Upgang—Enter Cleveland—East Row—The first Alum-Maker—Sandsend—Alum-Works—The +huge Gap—Hewing the Alum Shale—Limestone Nodules: +Mulgrave Cement—Swarms of Fossils—Burning the Shale—Volcanic +Phenomena—From Fire to Water—The Cisterns—Soaking and Pumping—The +evaporating Pans—The Crystallizing Process—The Roching Casks—Brilliant +Crystals—A Chemical Triumph—Rough Epsoms.</p> + +<p>It was yet early the next morning when I descended from +the high road to the shore at Upgang, about two miles from +Whitby. Here we approach a region of manufacturing industry. +Wagons pass laden with Mulgrave cement, with big, +white lumps of alum, with sulphate of magnesia; the kilns +are not far off, and the alum-works at Sandsend are in sight, +backed by the wooded heights of Mulgrave Park, the seat of +the Marquis of Normanby. Another half-hour, and crossing +a beck which descends from those heights, we enter Cleveland, +of which the North Riding is made to say,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“——If she were not here confined thus in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shire even of herself might well be said to be.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hereabouts, in the olden time, stood a temple dedicated to +Thor, and the place was called Thordisa—a name for which +the present East Row is a poor exchange. The alteration, so +it is said, was made by the workmen on the commencement of +the alum manufacture in 1620. The works, now grimy with +smoke, are built between the hill-foot and the sea, a short +distance beyond the beck.</p> + +<p>The story runs that the manufacture of alum was introduced +into Yorkshire early in the seventeenth century by Sir Thomas +Chaloner, who had travelled in Italy, and there seen the rock-beds +from which the Italians extracted alum. Riding one day +in the neighbourhood of Guisborough, he noticed that the +foliage of the trees resembled in colour that of the leaves in +the alum districts abroad; and afterwards he commenced an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +alum-work in the hills near that town, sanctioned by a patent +from Charles I. One account says that he smuggled over from +the Papal States, concealed in casks, workmen who were +acquainted with the manufacture, and was excommunicated +by the Pope for this daring breach of his own monopoly. +The Sandsend works were established a few years later. +Subsequently certain courtiers prevailed on the king to break +faith with Sir Thomas, and to give one-half of the patent to +a rival, which so exasperated the knight that he became a +Roundhead, and one of the most relentless foes of the king. A +great monopoly of the alum-works was attempted towards the +end of the last century by Sir George Colebroke, who, being +an East India director, got the name of Shah Allum. His +attempt failed.</p> + +<p>My request for permission to view the works was freely +granted, and I here repeat my acknowledgments for the +favour. The foreman, I was told, took but little pains with +visitors who came, and said, “Dear me! How very curious!” +and yawned, and wanted to go away at the end of ten minutes; +but for any one in earnest to see the operations from beginning +to end, he would spare no trouble. Just the very man for me +I thought; so leaving my knapsack at the office, I followed +the boy who was sent to show me the way to the mine. Up +the hill, and across fields for about half a mile, brought us to +the edge of a huge gap, which at first sight might have been +taken for a stone quarry partially changed into the crater of a +volcano. At one side clouds of white sulphureous smoke were +rising; within lay great heaps resembling brick rubbish; and +heaps of shale, and piles of stony balls, and stacks of brushwood; +and while one set of men were busily hacking and +hewing the great inner walls, others were loading and hauling +off the tramway wagons, others pumping, or going to and fro +with wheelbarrows.</p> + +<p>There was no proper descent from the side to which we +came, and to scramble down three or four great steps, each of +twenty feet, with perpendicular fronts, was not easy. However, +at last I was able to present to the foreman the scrap of +paper which I had brought from the office, and to feel sure +that such an honest countenance and bright eye as his betokened +a willing temper. Nor was I disappointed, for he at +once expressed himself ready to show and explain everything +that I might wish to see.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Let us begin at the beginning,” I said; and he led me to +the cliff, where the diggers were at work. The formation +reminded me of what I had seen in the quarries at Portland: +first a layer of earth, then a hard, worthless kind of stone, +named the ‘cap’ by the miners; next a deposit of marlstone +and ‘doggerhead,’ making altogether a thickness of about +fifty feet; and below this comes the great bed of upper lias, +one hundred and fifty feet thick; and this lias is the alum +shale. Where freshly exposed, its appearance may be likened +to slate soaked in grease: it has a greasy or soapy feel between +the fingers, but as it oxidises rapidly on exposure to the air, +the general colour of the cliff is brown. Here the shale is +not worked below seventy-five feet; for every fathom below +that becomes more and more bituminous, and more liable to +vitrify when burnt, and will not yield alum. At some works, +however, the excavation is continued down to ninety feet. +Embedded in the shale, most abundant in the upper twenty-five +feet, the workmen find nodules of limestone, the piles of +balls I had noticed from above, about the size of a cricket-ball; +and of these the well-known Mulgrave cement is made. +The Marquis, to whom all the land hereabouts belongs, requires +that his lessees shall sell to him all the limestone nodules they +find. The supply is not small, judging from the great heap +which I saw thrown aside in readiness for carting away. +Alum shale prevails in the cliffs for twenty-seven miles along +the coast of Yorkshire, in which are found one hundred and +fifty kinds of ammonites.</p> + +<p>Besides balls of limestone, the shale abounds in fossils. It +was in this—the lias—that nearly all the specimens, including +the gigantic reptiles of the ancient world which we saw in +the Museum at Whitby were found. Every stroke of the pick +brings them out; and as the shale is soft and easily worked, +they are separated without difficulty. You might collect a +cartload in half a day. For a few minutes I felt somewhat +like a schoolboy in an orchard, and filled my pockets eagerly +with the best that came in my way. But ammonites and +mussels, when turned to stone, are very heavy, and before +the day was over I had to lighten my load: some I placed +where passers-by could see them; then I gave some away at +houses by the road, till not more than six remained for a +corner of my knapsack. And these were quite enough, considering +that I had yet to walk nearly three hundred miles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>After the digging comes the burning. A layer of brushwood +is made ready on the ground, and upon this the shale is +heaped to the height of forty or fifty feet until a respectable +little mountain is formed, comprising three thousand tons, or +more. The rear of the mass rests against the precipice, and +from narrow ledges and projections in this the men tilt their +barrow-loads as the elevation increases. The fire, meanwhile, +creeps about below, and soon the heap begins to smoke, sending +out white sulphureous fumes in clouds that give it the +appearance of a volcano.</p> + +<p>Such a heap was smouldering and smoking at the mouth of +the great excavation, the sulphate of iron, giving off its acid +to the clay, converting it thereby into sulphate of alumina. +All round the base, and for a few feet upwards, the fire had +done its work, and the mass was cooling; but above the +creeping glow was still active. The colour is changed by the +burning from brown to light reddish yellow, with a streak of +darker red running along all the edges of the fragments; and +the progress of combustion might be noted by the differences +of colour: in some places pale; then a mottled zone, blending +upwards with the sweating patches under the smoke. Commonly +the heap burns for three months; hence a good manager +takes care so to time his fires that a supply of <i>mine</i>—as the +calcined shale is technically named—is always in readiness. +Fifty tons of this burnt shale are required to make one ton of +alum.</p> + +<p>We turned to the heap which I have mentioned as resembling +a mound of brick rubbish at a distance. One-third +of it had been wheeled away to the cisterns, exposing the +interior, and I could see how the fire had touched every part, +and left its traces in the change of colour and the narrow red +border round each calcined chip. The pieces lie loosely together, +so that on digging away below, the upper part falls of +itself. The man who was filling the barrows had hacked out a +cavernous hollow; it seemed that a slip might be momentarily +expected, for the top overhung threateningly, and yet he +continued to hack and dig with apparent unconcern, and +replied to the foreman’s caution, “Oh! it won’t come down +afore to-morrow. It’ll give warning.”</p> + +<p>Now for the watery ordeal. On the sloping ground between +the cliffs and the sea, shallow pits or cisterns are sunk, nearly +fifty feet long and twenty wide, and so placed, with a bottom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +sloping from a depth of one foot at one end to two feet at the +other, as to communicate easily with one another by pipes and +gutters. Whether alum-works shall pay or not, is said to +depend in no small degree on the proper arrangement of the +pits. Each pit will contain forty wagon-loads of the mine. +As soon as it is full, liquor is pumped into it from a deep +cistern covered by a shed, and this at the end of three days is +drawn off by the tap at the lower end, and when drained the +pit is again pumped full and soaked for two days. Yet once +more is it pumped full, but with water—producing first, +second, and third run, and sometimes a fourth—but the last is +the weakest, and is kept to be pumped up as liquor on a fresh +pit for first run. It would be poor economy to evaporate so +weak a solution. Each pit employs five men.</p> + +<p>All this is carried on in the open air, with the sea lashing +the shore but a few yards off, and all around the signs of what +to a stranger appears but a rough and ready system. And in +truth there must be something wasteful in it, for all the alum +is never abstracted. After the third or fourth washing, the +mine is shovelled from the pits and flung away on the beach, +where the sea soon levels it to a uniform slope. In one of the +so-called exhausted pits I saw many pieces touched, as it +were, by hoar frost, which was nothing but minute crystals +of alum formed on the surface, strongly acid to the taste.</p> + +<p>The rest of the process was to be seen down at the works, +so thither we went; not by the way I came, for the foreman, +scrambling up the side of the gap, conducted me along the +ledge at the top of the burning heap. He walked through the +stifling fumes without annoyance, while on me they produced +a painful sense of choking, with an impulse to run. Before +we had passed, however, he pushed aside a few of the upper +pieces, and showed me the dull glow of the fire beneath. +Then we had more ledges along the face of the cliff, and now +and then to creep and jump; and we crossed an old digging, +which looked ugly with its heaps of waste and half-starved +patches of grass. All the way extends a course of long +wooden gutters, in which the first-run liquor was flowing in +a continuous stream to undergo its final treatment—another +trial by fire.</p> + +<p>Then into a low, darksome shed, where from one end to +the other you see nothing but leaden evaporating pans and +cisterns, some steaming, and all containing liquor in different<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +states of preparation. That from which the most water has +been evaporated—the concentrated solution—has a large +cistern to itself, where its tendency to crystallize is assisted by +an admixture of liquor containing ammonia in solution, and +immediately the alum falls to the bottom in countless crystals. +The liquor above them, now become ‘mother liquor,’ or more +familiarly ‘mothers,’ is drawn off, the crystals are washed +clean in water, are again dissolved, and once more boiled, +mixed with gallons of mothers remaining from former boilings. +When of the required density, the liquor is run off from the +pan to the ‘roching casks’—great butts rather, big as a +sugar hogshead, and taller; and in these is left to cool and +crystallize after its manner, from eight to ten days, according +to the season. The butts are constructed so as to take to +pieces easily, and at the right time the hoops are knocked off, +the staves removed, and there on the floor stands a great white +cask of alum, solid all over, top, bottom, and sides, except in its +centre a quantity of liquor which has not crystallized. This +having been drawn off by a hole driven through, the mass is +then broken to pieces, and is fit for the market; and for the +use of dyers, leather-dressers, druggists, tallow-chandlers; for +bakers even, and other crafty traders.</p> + +<p>Looked at from the outside, there is no beauty in the cask +of alum; but as soon as the interior is exposed, then the +numberless crystals shooting from every part, glisten again as +the light streams in upon them; and you acknowledge that +the cunning by which they have been produced from the dull +slaty shale is a happy triumph of chemical art—one that will +stand a comparison with a recent triumph, the extraction of +brilliantly white candles from the great brown peat-bogs of +Ireland, or from Rangoon tar. Perhaps some readers will +remember the beautiful specimen of alum crystals—an entire +half-tun that stood in the nave of the Great Exhibition.</p> + +<p>Alum is made near Glasgow from the shale of abandoned +coal mines, soaked in water without burning. After the +works had been carried on for some years, and the heap of +refuse had spread over the neighbourhood to an inconvenient +extent, it was found that on burning this waste shale, it would +yield a second profitable supply of alum. Moreover, artificial +alum is manufactured in considerable quantities from a mixture +of clay and sulphuric acid.</p> + +<p>In going about the works it was impossible not to be struck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +by the contrast between the sooty aspect of the roofs, beams, +and gangways, and the whiteness of the crystal fringes in the +pans, and the snowy patches here and there where the vapour +had condensed. And in an outhouse wagon-loads of ‘rough +Epsoms’ lay in a great white heap on the black floor. This +rough Epsoms, or sulphate of magnesia, is the crystals thrown +down by the mother-liquor after a second boiling.</p> + +<p>In our goings to and fro, we talked of other things as well +as alum; of that other mineral wealth, the ironstone, to which +Cleveland owes so important a development of industry +within the past fifteen years. The existence of ironstone in +the district had long been known; but not till the foreman—jointly +with his father—discovered a deposit near Skinningrave, +and drew attention to it, was any attempt made to +work it. Geologically the deposit is known as clayband ironstone; +hence clay will still make known the fame of this +corner of Yorkshire, as when the old couplet was current—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Cleveland in the clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carry in two shoon, bring one away.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>If I liked the foreman at first sight, much more did I like +him upon acquaintance. He won my esteem as much by his +frank and manly bearing, as by his patient attentions and +intelligent explanations; and I shook his hand at parting with +a sincere hope of having another talk with him some day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Mulgrave Park—Giant Wade—Ubba’s Landing-place—The Boggle-boggarts—The +Fairy’s Chase—Superstitions—The Knight of the Evil Lake—Lythe—St. +Oswald’s Church—Goldsborough—Kettleness—Rugged Cliffs and Beach—Runswick +Bay—Hob-Hole—Cure for Whooping-cough—Jet Diggers—Runswick—Hinderwell—Horticultural +Ravine—Staithes—A curious Fishing-town—The +Black Minstrels—A close-neaved Crowd—The Cod and +Lobster—Houses washed away—Queer back Premises—The Termagants’ +Duel—Fisherman’s Talk—Cobles and Yawls—Dutch and French Poachers—Tap-room +Talk—Reminiscences of Captain Cook.</p> + +<p>I shouldered my knapsack, and paced once more up the hill: +a long and toilsome hill it is; but you can beguile the way +nevertheless. Behind the hedge on the left stretches Mulgrave +Park, hill and dale, and running brooks, and woods wherein +the walks and drives extend for twenty miles. I had procured +a ticket of admission at Whitby; but having spent so much +time over the alum, had none to spare for the park, with its +Gothic mansion, groves and gardens, and fragment of an old +castle on an eminence surrounded by woods; and the Hermitage, +the favourite resort of picnic parties. According to hoary +legend, the original founder of the castle was giant Wade, or +Wada, a personage still talked of by the country-folk, who +give his name to the Roman Causeway which runs from +Dunsley to Malton, and point out certain large stones at two +villages a few miles apart as Wade’s Graves. It was in +Dunsley Bay, down there on the right, that Ubba landed with +his sea-rovers in 867, and the hill on which he planted his +standard is still called Ravenhill.</p> + +<p>And here were the haunts of the boggle-boggarts—a +Yorkshire fairy tribe. At Kettleness, whither we shall +come by and by, they used to wash their linen in a certain +spring, named Claymore Well, and the noise of their +‘bittle’ was heard more than two miles off. Jeanie, one of +these fairies, made her abode in the Mulgrave woods, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +one day a young farmer, curious to see a bogle, mounted his +horse, rode up to her bower, and called her by name. She +obeyed the call, but in a towering rage at the intrusion, and +the adventurer, in terror, turned and fled, with the nimble +sprite close at his heels. At length, just as he was leaping +a brook, she aimed a stroke with her wand and cut his horse +in two; but the fugitive kept his seat, and fell with the +foremost half on the farther bank, and the weird creature, +stopped by the running water, witnessed his escape with an +evil eye.</p> + +<p>We may remember, too, that Cleveland, remote from great +thoroughfares, was a nursery of superstitions long after the +owlish notions died out from other places. Had your grandmother +been born here she would have been able to tell you +that to wear a ring cut from old, long-buried coffin-lead, +would cure the cramp; that the water from the leaden roof of +a church, sprinkled on the skin, was a specific for sundry +diseases—most efficacious if taken from over the chancel. +Biscuits baked on Good Friday would keep good all the +year, and a person ill with flux had only to swallow one +grated in milk, or brandy-and-water, and recovery was certain. +Clothes hung out to dry on Good Friday would, +when taken down, be found spotted with blood. To fling +the shirt or shift of a sick person into a spring, was a sure +way to foreknow the issue of the malady: if it floated—life; +if it sank—death. And when the patient was convalescent, +a small piece was torn from the garment and hung on the +bushes near the spring; and springs thus venerated were +called Rag-wells.</p> + +<p>The lands of Mulgrave were given by King John to Peter +de Malolacu as a reward for crime—helping in the cruel +murder of Prince Arthur. By this Knight of the Evil-lake—evil +heart, rather—the castle was rebuilt; and, pleased +with the beauty of the sight, he named it Moult Grace; but +because that he was hard-hearted and an oppressor, the +people changed the <i>c</i> into <i>v</i>; whence, says tradition, the +origin of the present name.</p> + +<p>On the crown of the hill we come to Lythe, which—to +borrow a term from Lord Carlisle—is a “well-conditioned” +village, adorned with honeysuckle and little flower-gardens. +The elevation, five hundred feet, affords an agreeable view +of Whitby Abbey, and part of the intervening coast and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +country. The church is dedicated to St. Oswald, the royal +Northumbrian martyr; and inside you may see a monument +to Constantine John, Baron Mulgrave, who as Captain +Phipps sailed to Spitzbergen in 1773, on one of those arctic +explorations to which, from first to last, England owes no +small share of her naval renown.</p> + +<p>Here I struck into a lane for Goldsborough, the village +which claims one of Wade’s graves; and along byeways +down to the shore at Kettleness—a grand cliff nearly four +hundred feet high, so named from hollows or ‘kettles’ in +the ground near it.</p> + +<p>Here, descending the steep road to the beach, you pass +more alum-works, backed by the precipitous crags. Everywhere +you see signs of fallen rocks and landslips. In a slip +which happened in 1830, the labourers’ cottages were carried +down and buried; but with sufficient warning to enable the +inmates to escape. Once the cliff took fire and burned for +two years. From this point the way along the shore is +wilder and rougher—more bestrewn with slabs and boulders +than any we have yet seen. Up and down, in and out; +now close under the cliff; now taking to the weedy rocks +to avoid an overhanging mass that seems about to fall. +Here and there jet-diggers and quarrymen are busy high +above your head, and make the passage more difficult by +their heaps of rubbish. Among the boulders you will +notice some perfectly globular in form, as if finished in a +lathe. One that I stooped to examine was a singular specimen +of Nature’s handiwork. It proved to be a hemisphere +only, smooth and highly polished, so exact a round on one +side, so true a flat on the other, that no artificer could have +produced better. In appearance it resembled quartz. I +longed to bring it away; but it was about the bigness of half +an ordinary Dutch cheese, and weighed some five or six +pounds. All I could do was to leave it in a safe spot for +some after-coming geologist.</p> + +<p>Having passed the bluff, we see to the bottom of Runswick +Bay, and the village of Runswick clustered on the +farther heights. A harbour of refuge is much wanted on +this shelterless coast, and some engineers show this to be +the best place for it; others contend for Redcar, at the +mouth of the Tees. Here, again, the cliff diminishes in elevation, +and the ground slopes upwards to higher land in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +rear. About the middle of the bay is Hob-Hole, a well-known +cave, once more than a hundred feet deep, but now +shortened by two-thirds, and in imminent danger of complete +destruction by jet-diggers. Cattle used to come down +from the pastures and betake themselves to its cool recesses +in hot summer days, and if caught by the tide instinctively +sought the inner end, which, as the floor rose by a gentle +acclivity, was above the reach of the water. I could scarcely +help fancying that the half-dozen cows standing up to their +knees in a salt-water pool were ruminating sadly over their +lost resort.</p> + +<p>What would the grandmothers say if they could return +and see the spoiling of Hob’s dwelling-place: Hob, whose +aid they used to invoke for the cure of whooping-cough? +Standing at the entrance of the cave with the sick child in +their arms, they addressed him thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">“Hob-hole Hob!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bairn’s gotten t’kin cough:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Tak ’t off—tak ’t off!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>If Hob refused to be propitiated, they tried another way, +and catching a live hairy worm, hung it in a bag from +the child’s neck, and as the worm died and wasted away so +did the cough. If this failed, a roasted mouse, or a piece of +bread-and-butter administered by the hands of a virgin, was +infallible; and if the cough remained still obstinate, the +child, as a last resort, was passed nine times under the belly +of a donkey. To avoid risk of exposure, it was customary to +lead the animal to the front of the kitchen fire.</p> + +<p>I found a party of jet-diggers at work in the low cliff +near the cave, and stayed to watch their proceedings. +Eleven weeks had they been labouring, and found nothing. +It was astonishing to see what prodigious gaps they had +made in that time, and the heap of refuse, which appeared +twice as big as all the gaps put together. I thought the +barrow-man gave himself too little trouble to wheel the +waste out of the way; but he, who knew best, answered, +“Bowkers! why should I sweat for nothin’? The sea’ll tak ’t +all away the fust gale.”</p> + +<p>Judging from what they told me, jet-digging is little, +if any, less precarious than gold-digging. Their actual +experience was not uncommon; and at other times they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +would get as much jet in a week as paid them for six +months’ labour. Then, again, after removing tons of superincumbent +rock, the bed of jet would be of the hard stony-kind, +worth not more than half-a-crown a pound; or a party +would toil fruitlessly for weeks, losing heart and hope, and +find themselves outwitted at last by another crafty digger, +who, scanning the cliff a few yards off with a keen eye, +would discover signs, and setting to work, lay bare a stratum +of jet in a few days. The best kind is thoroughly bitumenized, +of a perfect uniform black, and resembles nothing +so much as a tree stem flattened by intense pressure, while +subjected to great heat without charring.</p> + +<p>If Bay Town be remarkable, much more so is Runswick, +for the houses may be said to hang on the abrupt hill-side, +as martens’ nests on a wall, among patches of ragwort, +brambles, gorse, elders, and bits of brown rock, overtopped +by the summit of the cliff. Boats are hauled up on the grass, +near the rivulet that frolics down the steep; balks of pine +and ends of old ship timbers lie about; clothes hung out to +dry flutter in the breeze; and the little whitewashed gables, +crowned by thatch or red tiles, gleam in the sunshine. There +is no street, nothing but footpaths, and you continually find +yourself in one of the little gardens, or at the door of a +cottage, while seeking the way through to the heights above. +Two public-houses offer very modest entertainment, and <i>The +Ship</i> better beer than that at Kilnsea. About the end of the +seventeenth century the alum shale, on which the village is +built, made a sudden slip, and with it all the houses but one. +Since then it has remained stationary; but with a rock so liable +to decomposition as alum shale, a site that shall never be +moved cannot be hoped for.</p> + +<p>The view from the brow in the reverse direction, after you +have climbed the rough slope of thorns and brambles above +the village, is striking. Kettleness rears its head proudly over +the waters; and looking inland from one swelling eminence +to another, till stopped by a long bare hill, which in outline +resembles the Hog’s-back, your eye completes the circle and +rests at last on the picturesque features of the bay beneath. +There is no finer cliff scenery on the Yorkshire coast than +from Kettleness to Huntcliff Nab.</p> + +<p>Then turning my face northwards, I explored the shortest +way to Staithes, now on the edge of the cliff, now cutting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +across the fields, and leaving on the left the village of Hinderwell—once, +as is said, St. Hilda’s well, from a spring in +the churchyard which bore the pious lady’s name. About +four miles of rough walking brought me to a bend in the road +above a deep ravine, which, patched or fringed with wood towards +its upper end, submits its steep flanks to cultivation on +approaching the sea. Garden plots, fenced and hedged, there +chequer the ground; and even from the hither side you can +see how well kept they are, and how productive. Facing the +south, and sheltered from the bitter north-easters, they yield +crops of fruit and vegetables that would excite admiration +anywhere, and win praise for their cultivators. In some of +the plots you see men at work with upturned shirt-sleeves, +and you can fancy they do their work lovingly in the golden +evening light. The ravine makes sharp curves, each wider +than the last, and the brook spreads out, with a few feet of +level margin in places at which boats are made fast, and you +wonder how they got there. Then the slope, with its gardens, +elders, and flowers, merges into a craggy cliff, near which an +old limekiln comes in with remarkably picturesque effect.</p> + +<p>A few yards farther and the road, descending rapidly, brings +you in sight of the sea, seemingly shut in between two high +bluffs, and at your feet, unseen till close upon it, lies the little +fishing-town of Staithes. And a strange town it is! The +main street, narrow and painfully ill-paved, bending down to +the shore of a small bay; houses showing their backs to the +water on one side, on the other hanging thickly on a declivity +so steep that many of the roofs touch the ground in the rear: +frowsy old houses for the most part, with pantile roofs, or +mouldy thatch, from which here and there peep queer little +windows. Some of the thatched houses appear as if sunk +into the ground, so low are they, and squalid withal. Contrasted +with these, the few modern houses appear better than +they are; and the draper, with his showy shop, exhibits a +model which others, whose gables are beginning to stand at +ease, perhaps will be ambitious to follow. Men wearing thick +blue Guernsey frocks and sou’-westers come slouching along, +burdened with nets or lobster-pots, or other fishing gear; +women and girls, short-skirted and some barefooted, go to and +from the beck with ‘skeels’ of water on their head, one or +two carrying a large washing-tub full, yet talking as they go +as if the weight were nothing; and now and then a few sturdy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +fellows stride past, yellow from head to foot with a thick +ochre-like dust. They come from the ironstone diggings +beyond Penny Nab—the southern bluff. Imagine, besides, +that the whole place smells of fish, and you will have a first +impression of Staithes.</p> + +<p>The inns, I thought, looked unpromising; but the <i>Royal +George</i> is better than it looks, and if guests are not comfortable +the blame can hardly lie with Mrs. Walton, the +hostess—a portly, good-humoured dame, who has seen the +world, that is, as far as London, and laughs in a way that +compels all within hearing to laugh for company. Though +the tap-room and parlour be sunk some three feet below the +roadway, making you notice, whether or not, the stout ankles +of the water-bearers, you will find it very possible to take +your ease in your inn.</p> + +<p>I was just sauntering out after tea when a couple of negro +minstrels, with banjo and tambourine, came down the street, +and struck up one of their liveliest songs. Instantly, and as +if by magic, the narrow thoroughfare was thronged by a +screeching swarm of children, who came running down all +the steep alleys, and from nooks and doorways in the queerest +places, followed by their fathers and mothers. I stepped up +the slope and took a survey of the crowd as they stood +grinning with delight at the black melodists. Good-looking +faces are rare among the women; but their stature is +remarkably erect—the effect probably of carrying burdens +on the head. How they chattered!</p> + +<p>“Eh! that caps me!” cried one.</p> + +<p>“That’s brave music!” said another.</p> + +<p>And a third, when Tambourine began his contortions, +shrieked, “Eh! looky! looky! he’s nobbut a porriwiggle;” +which translated out of Yorkshire into English, means, +“nought but a tadpole.” And to see how the weather-beaten +old fishermen chuckled and roared with laughter, +showing such big white teeth all the while, was not the least +amusing part of the exhibition. Such lusty enjoyment I +thought betokened an open hand; but when the hat went +round the greater number proved themselves as ‘close-neaved,’ +to use one of their own words, as misers.</p> + +<p>Near the end of the street, and under the shadow of Penny +Nab, there is an opening whence you may survey the little +bay, or rather cove, which forms the port of Staithes, well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +protected by the bluff above-named, and Colburn Nab on the +north. Here the <i>Cod and Lobster</i> public-house, with a small +quay in front, faces the sea, as if indifferent to consequences, +notwithstanding that the inmates are compelled from time to +time to decamp suddenly from threatened drowning. Even +as I stood there I was fain to button my overcoat against the +spray which swept across and sprinkled the windows, for there +was a heavy ‘lipper’ on, and huge breakers came tumbling +in with thunderous roar. You see piles driven here and there, +and heaps of big stones laid for protection; and not without +need, you will think, while looking at the backs of the houses +huddling close around the margin of the tide. In the month +of February, twenty-seven years ago, thirteen houses were +swept away at once, and among them the one in which Cook +was first apprenticed. Judging from what Staithes is now, it +must have been a remarkably primitive and hard-featured +place in his day.</p> + +<p>Then, crossing over, I threaded the narrow alleys and paths +to look at the backs of the houses from the hill-side. You +never saw such queer ins and outs, and holes and corners as +there are here. Pigstyes, little back yards, sheds, here and +there patches of the hill rough with coarse grass and weeds, +and everywhere boat-hooks and oars leaning against the walls, +and heaps of floats, tarred bladders, lobster-pots and baskets, +and nets stretched to dry on the open ground above. If you +wished to get from one alley to another without descending +the hill, it would not be difficult to take a short cut across the +pantiles. Indeed, that seems in some places the only way to +extrication from the labyrinth.</p> + +<p>I was on my way to look at the cove from the side of +Colburn Nab, when a woman, rushing from a house, renewed +a screeching quarrel with her opposite neighbour, which had +been interrupted by the negro interlude. The other rushed +out to meet her, and there followed a clamour of tongues +such as I never before heard—each termagant resolute to +outscold the other. They stamped, shook their fists and +beat the air furiously, made mouths at one another, yelled +bitter taunts, and at last came to blows. The struggle was +but short, and then the weaker, not having been able to +conquer by strength of arm, screamed hoarsely, “Never +mind, Bet—never mind, you faggot! I can show a cleaner +shimmy than you can.” And, turning up her skirt, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +showed half a yard of linen, the cleanness of which ought to +have made her ashamed of her tongue. A loud laugh followed +this sally, and the men, having maintained their +principle that “it’s always best to let t’ women foight it +out,” straggled away to their lounging-places.</p> + +<p>The beck falls from the ravine into the cove at the foot +of the Nab, having a level wedge of land between it and the +cliff. This was more than half covered by fishing-boats and +the carts of dealers, who buy the fish here and sell it in the +interior, or convey it to the Tunnel Station for despatch by +railway. Two smoke houses for the drying of herrings are +built against the cliff, and in one of these a man was preparing +for the annual task, and shovelling his coarse-grained +salt into tubs. “The coarser the better,” he said, “because +it keeps the fish from layin’ too close together.” A fisherman, +who seemed well pleased to have some one to talk to, +assured me that I was a month too soon: the middle of +August was the time to see the place as busy as sand-martens. +And with an overpowering smell of fish, he might have +added. Six score boats of one kind or another sailed from +the cove, and they took a good few of fish. Some boats +could carry twenty last, and at times a last of herrings would +fetch ten or eleven pounds. In October, ’56, the boats were +running down to Scarbro’, when they came all at once into +a shoal, and was seven hours a sailin’ through ’em. One +boat got twelve lasts in no time, came in on Sunday, cleared +’em out, sailed again, and got back with twelve more lasts on +Wednesday. That was good addlings (<i>i. e.</i> earnings). He +knowed the crew of one boat who got sixty pound a man +that season.</p> + +<p>Some liked cobles, and some liked yawls. A coble wanted +six men and two boys to work her: a yawl would carry +fifty tons, and some were always out a fishin’. Now and +then they went out to the Silver Pit, an oyster-bed about +twenty-five miles from the coast. He thought the French +and Dutch were poachers in the herring season, especially +the French. They’d run their nets right across the English +nets, and pretend they didn’t know or didn’t understand; and +though the screw steamer from Dunkirk kept cruising about +to warn ’em not to come over the line, the English fishermen +thought ’twas only to spy out where the most fish was, and +then let the foreign boats know by signal. Yorkshire can’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +a-bear such botherments, and retaliates between whiles by +sinking the buoy barrels.</p> + +<p>This is an old grievance. In former times, no Dutchmen +were permitted to fish without a license from Scarborough +Castle, yet they evaded the regulation continually; “for,” +to quote the old chronicler, “the English always granted +leave for fishing, reserving the honour to themselves, but out +of a lazy temper resigning the gain to others.”</p> + +<p>He remembered the gale that swallowed the thirteen +houses. ’Twas a northerly gale, and that was the only +quarter that Staithes had to trouble about. Whenever the +wind blew hard from the north, the <i>Cod and Lobster</i> had to +get ready to run. But the easterly gales, which made everything +outside run for shelter, never touched the place, and +you might row round the port in a skiff when collier ships +were carrying away their topmasts in the offing, or drifting +helplessly ashore. He saw the thirteen houses washed away, +and at the same time a coble carried right over the bridge and +left high and dry on the other side.</p> + +<p>The mouth of the beck would make a good harbour for +cobles were it not for the bar, a great heap of gravel ‘fore-anenst’ +us, which, by the combined action of the stream and +tide, was kept circling from side to side, and stopping the +entrance. It would be all right if somebody would build a +jetty.</p> + +<p>Of the two hundred and fifty species of fish known to +inhabit the rivers and shores of Britain, one hundred and +forty have been found in and around Yorkshire.</p> + +<p>Returned to my quarters, I preferred a seat in the tap-room +to the solitude of the parlour. The hour to “steck +up” shops had struck, and a few of the “bettermy” traders +had come in for their evening pipe and glass of ale. The +landlord, who is a jet-digger, confirmed all that the three +men had told me at Runswick: jet-digging was quite a lottery, +and not unattended with danger. In some instances +a man would let himself half way down the cliff by a rope +to begin his work. And the doctor—a talkative gentleman—corroborated +the old fisherman’s statements. In an +easterly gale the little port was “as smooth as grease,” and, +if it were only larger, would be the best harbour on the +eastern coast. He, too, remembered the washing away of +the thirteen houses, and the consternation thereby created.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +Would the sea be satisfied with that one mouthful? was a +terrible question in the minds of all.</p> + +<p>I had heard that among the few things saved from the +house in which Cook was apprenticed, was the till from +which he stole the shilling; but although I met with persons +who thought the relic was still preserved somewhere in +the town, not one could say that he had ever seen it. As +regards the story of the theft, the popular version is that +Cook, after taking the coin, ran away from Staithes. But, +according to another version, there was no stealing in the +case. Tempted by the sight of a bright new South-Sea +Company’s shilling in the till, he took it out, and substituted +for it one from his own pocket; and his master, who combined +the trades of haberdasher and grocer, was satisfied with +the boy’s explanation when the piece was missed. Cook, +however, fascinated by the sight of the sea and of ships, +took a dislike to the counter, and, before he was fourteen, +obtained his discharge, and was learning the rudiments of +navigation on board the <i>Freelove</i>, a collier ship, owned by two +worthy Quakers of Whitby.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Last Day by the Sea—Boulby—Magnificent Cliffs—Lofthouse and Zachary +Moore—The Snake-killer—The Wyvern—Eh! Packman—Skinningrave—Smugglers +and Privateers—The Bruce’s Privileges—What the old Chronicler +says—Story about a Sea-Man—The Groaning Creek—Huntcliff Nab—Rosebury +Topping—Saltburn—Cormorant Shooters—Cunning Seals—Miles +of Sands—Marske—A memorable Grave—Redcar—The Estuary of +Tees—Asylum Harbour—Recreations for Visitors—William Hutton’s Description—Farewell +to the Sea.</p> + +<p>It is the morning of our last day by the sea; and a glorious +morning it is, with a bright sun, a blue sky, and a cool, brisk +breeze, that freshens still as the hours glide on to noon. It is +one of those days when merely to breathe, to feel that you are +alive, is enjoyment enough; when movement and change of +scene exert a charm that grows into exhilaration, and weariness, +the envious thief, lags behind, and tries in vain to overtake +the willing foot and cheerful heart. In such circumstances it +seems to me that from all around the horizon the glowing +sunlight streams into one’s very being laden with the delight-fullest +influences of all the landscapes.</p> + +<p>Though the hill be steep and high by which we leave +Staithes, there are gaily painted boats lying on the grass at +the top. You might almost believe them to be placed there as +indications that the town, now hidden from sight, really exists +below. Northwards, the cliffs have a promising look, for they +rise to a higher elevation (six hundred and sixty feet) than +any we have yet trodden on this side of Flamborough. Again +we pass wagon-loads of alum and sulphate, and come to the +Boulby alum-works, beyond which a wild heathery tract +stretches sharply upwards from the edge of the cliff, and shuts +out the inland prospect. Up here the breeze is half a gale, +and the sea view is magnificent. More than a hundred vessels +of different sizes are in sight, the greater number bowling +along to the southward, with every stitch of canvas spread,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +and so near the shore that you can see plainly the man at the +wheel, and the movements of the crew on deck.</p> + +<p>By the roadside runs a stream of alum liquor along the +wooden trough, and on rounding the bluff, we discover more +alum-works on a broad undercliff, with troughs, diggings, and +refuse heaps, extending farther than you can see. You may +continue along the broken ground below, or mount to the +summit by a rude stair chopped in the face of the cliff. The +higher the better, I thought, and scrambled up. It is a strange +scene that you look down upon: a few lonely cottages, patches +of garden, and a chaos of heaps, some grass-grown, with +numerous paths winding among them. And now the view +opens towards the west, great slopes of fields heaving up as +waves one beyond the other, till they blend with the pale blue +hill-range in the distance; and glimpses of Hartlepool and +Tynemouth can be seen in the north.</p> + +<p>The Earl of Zetland is the great proprietor hereabouts: the +alum-works are his, and to him belongs the estate at Lofthouse—a +village about two miles inland—once owned by the famous +Zachary Moore, whose lavish hospitality, and eminent qualities +of mind and heart, made him the theme for tongue and pen +when Pitt was minister:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“What sober heads hast thou made ache!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How many hast thou kept from nodding!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many wise ones for thy sake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have flown to thee and left off plodding!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and who, having spent a great fortune, discovered the reverse +side of his friends’ characters, accepted an ensign’s commission, +and died at Gibraltar in the prime of his manhood.</p> + +<p>And it was near Lofthouse that Sir John Conyers won his +name of Snake-killer. A sword and coffin, dug up on the site +of an old Benedictine priory, were supposed to have once belonged +to the brave knight who “slew that monstrous and poysonous +vermine or wyverne, an aske or werme which overthrew +and devoured many people in fight; for that the scent of that +poison was so strong that no person might abyde it.” A gray +stone, standing in a field, still marks the haunt of the worm +and place of battle.</p> + +<p>Tradition tells, moreover, of a valiant youth, who killed a +serpent and rescued an earl’s daughter from the reptile’s cave, +and married her; in token whereof Scaw Wood still bears his +name.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>As I went on, past Street Houses, diverging hither and +thither, a woman cried, from a small farm-house, “Eh! packman, +d’ye carry beuks?” She wanted a new spelder-beuk<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> +for one of her children. We had a brief talk together. She +had never been out of Yorkshire, except once across the Tees +to Stockton, twenty-two miles distant. That was her longest +journey, and the largest town she had ever seen. ’Twas a gay +sight; but she thought the ladies in the streets wore too many +danglements. She couldn’t a-bear such things as them, for +she was one of the audfarrand<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> sort, and liked lasty<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> clothes.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Spelling Book.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Old-fashioned.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Lasting.</p></div> + +<p>While talking, she continued her preparations for dinner, +and set one of her children to polish the “reckon-crooks.” +The “reckon” is the crane in the kitchen fireplace, to which +pots and kettles are suspended by the “crooks.” In old times, +when a pot was lifted off, the maid was careful to stop the +swinging of the crook, because, whenever the reckon-crooks +swung the blessed Virgin used to weep.</p> + +<p>Skinningrave—a few houses at the mouth of a narrow +valley, a brook running briskly to the sea, a coast-guard +station on the green shoulder of the southern cliff—makes up +a pleasing scene as you descend to the beach. The village +gossips can still talk on occasion about the golden age of +smugglers, and a certain parish-clerk of the neighbourhood, +who used to make the church steeple a hiding-place for his +contraband goods. Smuggling hardly pays now on this coast. +They can repeat, too, what they heard in their childhood concerning +Paul Jones; how that, as at Whitby, the folk kept +their money and valuables packed up, ready to start for the +interior, watching day and night in great alarm, until at length +the privateers did land, and fell to plundering from house to +house. But when the fugitives returned they found nothing +disturbed except the pantries and larders.</p> + +<p>This was one of the places where the Bruce, proudest of +the lords of Cleveland, had “free fisheries, plantage, floatage, +lagan, jetsom, derelict, and other maritime franchises.” And +an industrious explorer, who drew up a report on the district +for Sir Thomas Chaloner, in that quaint old style which smacks +of true British liberty, gives us a glimpse of Skinningrave +morals in his day. The people, he says, with all their fish, +were not rich; “for the moste parte, what they have they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +drinke; and howsoever they reckon with God, yt is a familiar +maner to them to make even with the worlde at night, that +pennilesse and carelesse they maye go lightly to their labour +on the morrow morninge.” And, relating a strange story, he +tells us that about the year 1535, certain fishers of the place +captured a sea-man, and kept him “many weekes in an olde +house, giving him rawe fish to eate, for all other fare he +refused. Instead of voyce he skreaked, and showed himself +courteous to such as flocked farre and neare to visit him; faire +maydes were wellcomest guests to his harbour, whome he +woulde beholde with a very earnest countenaynce, as if his +phlegmaticke breaste had been touched with a sparke of love. +One day when the good demeanour of this newe gueste had +made his hosts secure of his abode with them, he privily stole +out of doores, and ere he could be overtaken recovered the sea, +whereinto he plunged himself; yet as one that woulde not +unmannerly depart without taking of his leave, from the +mydle upwardes he raysed his shoulders often above the waves, +and makinge signes of acknowledgeing his good entertainment +to such as beheld him on the shore, as they interpreted yt. +After a pretty while he dived downe, and appeared no more.”</p> + +<p>Give me leave, reader, to quote one more passage, in +which our narrator notices the phenomenon now known as +the calling of the sea. “The little stream here,” he says, +“serveth as a trunke or conduite to convey the rumor of +the sea into the neighbouring fieldes; for when all wyndes +are whiste, and the sea restes unmoved as a standing poole, +sometimes there is such a horrible groaninge heard from +that creake at the least six myles in the mayne lande, that +the fishermen dare not put forth, thoughe thyrste of gaine +drive them on, houlding an opinion that the sea, as a greedy +beaste raginge for hunger, desyers to be satisfyed with men’s +carcases.”</p> + +<p>I crossed the beach where noisy rustics were loading carts +from the thick beds of tangle, to the opposite cliff, and +found a path to the top in a romantic hollow behind the +point. Again the height increases, and presently you get +a peep at Handale, traceable by its woods; and Freeburgh +Hill, which was long taken for a tumulus, appears beyond. +After much learned assertion in favour of its artificial formation, +the question was settled by opening a sandstone +quarry on its side. Still higher, and we are on Huntcliff<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +Nab, a precipice of three hundred and sixty feet, backed by +broad fields and pastures. Farther, we come to broken +ground, and then to a sudden descent by a zigzag path at the +Saltburn coast-guard station; and here the noble range of +cliffs sinks down to one of the pleasantest valleys of Cleveland—an +outlet for little rivers. Pausing here on the brow +we see the end of our coast travel, Redcar, and the mouth +of the Tees five miles distant, and all between the finest +sandy beach washed by the North Sea: level and smooth as +a floor. The cliff behind is a mere bank, as along the shore +of Holderness, and there is a greater breadth of plain country +under our eye than we have seen for some days past.</p> + +<p>Among the hills, picturesquely upheaved in the rear of +the plain, I recognized the pointed summit of Rosebury +Topping; and with almost as much pleasure as if it had +been the face of a friend, so many recollections did the sight +of the cone awaken of youthful days, and of circumstances +that seemed to have left no impression. And therewith came +back for a while the gladsome bounding emotions that consort +with youth’s inexperience.</p> + +<p>Some time elapsed before I could make up my mind to +quit the turfy seat on the edge of the cliff, and betake myself +to the nether ground. The path zigzags steeply, and +would be dangerous in places were it not protected by a +handrope and posts. At the public-house below the requisites +of a simple dinner can be had, and excellent beer. +While I ate, two men were busy casting bullets, and turning +them out to cool in the middle of the floor. They were +going to shoot cormorants along Huntcliff Nab, where the +birds lodge in the clefts and afford good practice for a rifle.</p> + +<p>Concerning the Nab, our ancient friend describes it as +“full of craggs and steepe rocks, wherein meawes, pidgeons, +and sea-fowle breade plentifully; and here the sea castinge +up peble-stones maketh the coaste troublesome to passe.” +And seals resorted to the rocks about its base, cunning animals, +which set a sentry to watch for the approach of men, +and dived immediately that the alarm was given. But +“the poore women that gather cockles and mussels on the +sandes, by often use are in better credyte with them. Therefore, +whosoe intends to kill any of them must craftely put +on the habyte of a woman, to gayne grounde within the +reache of his peece.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>The sands at the mouth of the valley are furrowed and +channeled by the streams that here find their outlet; and +you will get many a splash in striding across. The view of +the valley backed by hills and woods is a temptation, for +yonder lie fair prospects, and the obscure ruins of Kilton +Castle; but the sea is on the other side, and the sands stretch +away invitingly before us. Their breadth, seen near low +water, as when I saw them, may be guessed at more than +half a mile, and from Saltburn to Redcar, and for four or five +miles up the estuary of the Tees they continue, a gentle +slope dry and firm, noisy to a horse’s foot, yet something +elastic under the tread of a pedestrian. At one time the +Redcar races were always held on the broad sands, and +every day the visitors to the little town resort to the smooth +expanse for their exercise, whether on foot or on wheels. +For my part, I ceased to regret leaving the crest of the cliffs, +and found a novel sense of enjoyment in walking along the +wide-spread shore, where the surface is smooth and unbroken +except here and there a solitary pebble, or a shallow pool, or +a patch left rough by the ripples. And all the while a thin +film, paler than the rest, as if the surface were in motion, is +drifting rapidly with the wind, and producing before your eyes, +on the margin of the low cliff, some of the phenomena of +blown sands.</p> + +<p>Smugglers liked this bit of the coast, because of the easy +access to the interior; and many a hard fight has here been +had between them and the officers of the law in former times, +and not without loss of life. The lowlands, too, were liable +to inundation. Marske, of which the church has been our +landmark nearly all the way from Saltburn, was once a marsh. +If we mount the bank here we shall see the marine hotel, and +the village, and the mansion of Mr. Pease, who is the railway +king of these parts. And there is Marske Hall, dating from +the time of Charles the First, which, associated with the names +of Fauconberg and Dundas, has become historical. In the +churchyard you may see the graves of shipwrecked seamen, +and others indicated by a series of family names that will +detain you awhile. Here in April, 1779—that fatal year—was +buried James Cook, the day-labourer, and father of the +illustrious navigator. And truly there seems something +appropriate in laying him to rest within hearing of that +element on which his son achieved lasting renown for himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +and his country. Providence was kind to the old man, and +took him away six weeks after that terrible massacre at +Owhyhee, thereby saving his last days from hopeless sorrow.</p> + +<p>Numerous are the parties walking, riding, and driving on the +sands within a mile of Redcar; but so far as a wayfarer may +judge, liveliness is not one of their characteristics. Now, the +confused line of houses resolves itself into definite form; and, +turning the point, you find the inner margin of the sand loose +and heavy, a short stair to facilitate access to the terrace +above, all wearing a rough makeshift appearance: the effect, +probably, of the drift. There is no harbour; the boats lie far +off in the shallow water, where embarkation is by no means +convenient. Once arrived at the place, it appeared to me +singularly unattractive.</p> + +<p>Wide as the estuary looks, its entrance is narrowed by a +tongue of sand, Seaton-Snook, similar to the Spurn, but seven +miles long, and under water, which stretches out from the +Durham side; and on the hither side, off the point where we +are standing, you can see the long ridges of lias which are +there thrust out, as if to suggest the use that might be made +of them. Twenty years ago Mr. Richmond drew up a report +on what he names an “Asylum Harbour” at Redcar, showing +that at that time forty thousand vessels passed in a year, and +that of the wrecks, from 1821 to 1833, four hundred and +sixty-two would not have happened had the harbour then +existed. “To examine and trace,” he remarks, “during a +low spring-ebb, the massive foundations, which seem laid by +the cunning hand of Nature to invite that of man to finish +what has been so excellently begun, is a most interesting +labour. In their present position they form the basis on which +it is projected to raise those mounds of stone by whose means, +as breakwaters, a safe and extensive harbour will be created, +with sufficient space and depth of water for a fleet of line-of-battle +ships to be moored with perfect security within their +limits, and still leave ample room for merchant vessels.” +There is no lack of stone in the neighbourhood; and seeing +what has been accomplished at Portland and Holyhead, there +should be no lack of money for such a purpose.</p> + +<p>Cockles and shrimps abound along the shore: hence visitors +may find a little gentle excitement in watching the capture +of these multitudinous creatures, or grow enthusiastic over the +return of the salmon-fishers with their glistening prey. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +in fine weather there are frequent opportunities for steam-boat +trips along the coast. But the charm of the place consists in +the broad, flat shore, and, looking back along the way you +came, you will find an apt expression in the lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Next fishy Redcar view Marske’s sunny lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sands, beyond Pactolus’ golden sands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till shelvy Saltburn, clothed with seaweed green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And giant Huntcliff close the pleasing scene.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>William Hutton, at the age of eighty-five, journeyed +hither for a summer holiday, and wrote a narrative of his +adventures, from which we may get an idea of the place as +he saw it. “The two streets of Coatham and Redcar,” he +says, “are covered with mountains of drift sand, blown by +the north-west winds from the shore, which almost forbid the +foot; no carriage above a wheelbarrow ought to venture. It +is a labour to walk. If a man wants a perspiring dose, he +may procure one by travelling through these two streets, +and save his half-crown from the doctor. He may sport +white stockings every day in the year, for they are without +dirt; nor will the pavement offend his corns. The sand-beds +are in some places as high as the eaves of the houses. Some +of the inhabitants are obliged every morning to clear their +doorway, which becomes a pit, unpleasant to the housekeeper +and dangerous to the traveller.”</p> + +<p>I saw no sand-beds up to the eaves, but there were indications +enough that the sand-drift must be a great annoyance. +The town is comprised chiefly in one long, wide street, which +looks raw and bleak, even in the summer. There are a few +good shops at the end farthest from the sea; and if you ask +the bookseller to show you the weekly list of visitors, it will +perhaps surprise you to see the number so great. The church +was built in 1829; before that date church-goers had to walk +three miles to Marske.</p> + +<p>And now my travel from Humber to Tees is accomplished, +and I must say farewell to the wide rolling main with its +infinite horizon—to the ships coming up from the unseen +distance, and sailing away to the unseen beyond—to the great +headlands, haunted by swift-winged birds, which, when winds +are still, behold a double firmament, stars overhead and stars +beneath; and so, not without reluctance, I turn my back on +what the rare old Greek calls</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The countless laughter of the salt-sea waves.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Leave Redcar—A Cricket-Match—Coatham—Kirkleatham—The Old Hospital—The +Library—Sir William Turner’s Tomb—Cook, Omai, and Banks—The +Hero of Dettingen—Yearby Bank—Upleatham—Guisborough—Past +and Present—Tomb of Robert Bruce—Priory Ruins—Hemingford, Pursglove, +and Sir Thomas Chaloner—Pretty Scenery—The Spa—More Money, +Less Morals—What George Fox’s Proselytes did—John Wesley’s Preaching—Hutton +Lowcross—Rustics of Taste—Rosebury Topping—Lazy Enjoyment—The +Prospect: from Black-a-moor to Northumberland—Cook’s Monument—Canny +Yatton—The Quakers’ School—A Legend—Skelton—Sterne +and Eugenius—Visitors from Middlesbro’—A Fatal Town—Newton—Digger’s +Talk—Marton, Cook’s Birthplace—Stockton—Darlington.</p> + +<p>However, we will be of good cheer, for Nature forsakes +not the trustful heart. Hill and dale, breezy moorland, +craggy mountains, and lovely valleys stretch away before us +well-nigh to the western tides; and there we shall find +perennial woods, where rustling leaves, and rushing waterfalls +will compensate us for the loss of the voice of the sea.</p> + +<p>I started for Guisborough, taking a short cut across the +fields to Kirkleatham. In the first field, on the edge of the +town, I saw what accounted to me for the lifelessness of +Redcar—a cricket-match. As well might one hope to be +merry at a funeral as at a game of cricket, improved into its +present condition; when the ball is no longer bowled, but +pelted, and the pelter’s movements resemble those of a jack-pudding; +when gauntlets must be worn on the hands and +greaves on the shins; and other inventions are brought into use +to deprive pastime of anything like enjoyment. That twenty-two +men should ever consent to come together for such a +mockery of pleasure, is to me a mystery. Wouldn’t Dr. +Livingstone’s Makalolo laugh at them! The only saving +point attending it is, that it involves some amount of exercise in +the open air. No wonder that the French duchess, who was +invited to see a game, sent one of her suite, after sitting two +hours, to enquire, “vhen the creekay vas going to begin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>” +The Guisborough band was doing its best to enliven the field; +but I saw no exhilaration. Read Miss Mitford’s description +of a cricket-match on the village green; watch a schoolboys’ +game, consider the mirth and merriment that they get out of +it, and sympathise with modern cricket if you can.</p> + +<p>The fields are pleasant and rural; haymakers are at work; +we cross a tramway, one of those laid to facilitate the transport +of Cleveland ironstone; we get glimpses of Coatham, +and come nearer to the woods, and at length emerge into the +road at Kirkleatham. Here let us turn aside to look at the +curious old hospital, built in 1676 by Sir William Turner, +citizen and woollen-draper of London, and lord mayor, moreover, +three years after the Great Fire. There it stands, a +centre and two wings, including a chapel, a library and +museum, and a comfortable lodging for ten old men, as many +old women, and the same number of boys and girls. The +endowment provides for a good education for the children, and +a benefaction on their apprenticeship; and the services of a +chaplain. Among the curiosities shown to visitors are a +waxen effigy of Sir William, wearing the wig and band that +he himself once wore; the likeness of his son and heir in the +stained glass of one of the windows; St. George and the +Dragon, singularly well cut out of one piece of boxwood; +the fragment of the tree from Newby Park, presented by Lord +Falconberg, on which appears, carved:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This Tre long time witnese beare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of toww lovrs that did walk heare.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was no random hand that selected the library; some of +the books are rare. One who loves old authors, will scan the +shelves with pleasure. “I could easily have forgotten my +dinner in this enchanting room,” says William Hutton. Interesting +in another way is the ledger of the worthy citizen +and woollen-draper here preserved: it shows how well he +kept his accounts, and that he was not vain-glorious. On one +of the pages, where the sum of his wealth appears as 50,000<i>l.</i>, +he has written, “Blessed be the Almighty God, who has blest +me with this estate.”</p> + +<p>The church, not far from the hospital, is worth a visit. +Conspicuous in the chancel are the monuments of the Turners, +adorned with sculptures and long inscriptions. Of Sir +William, we read that he lies buried “amongst the poor of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +his hospital—the witnesses of his piety, liberality, and humility.” +There is the mausoleum erected by Cholmley Turner, +in 1740, to the memory of his son, who died at Lyon, of +which Schumacher was the sculptor, and near it the tomb +of Sir Charles Turner, the last of the family. Cook, accompanied +by Omai and Sir Joseph Banks, paid him a visit in +1775. Some of the church plate was presented by Sir +William; but that used for the communion was thrown up by +the sea about a century ago, within the privilege of the lord +of the manor.</p> + +<p>This quiet little village of Kirkleatham was the birthplace +of Tom Browne the famous dragoon, who at the battle of +Dettingen cut his way single-handed into the enemy’s line, +recovered the standard of the troop to which he belonged, and +fought his way back in triumph; by which exploit he made +his name ring from one end of England to the other, and won +a place for his likeness on many a sign-board. You may see +his portrait here if you will, and his straight basket-hilted +sword.</p> + +<p>After a glance at the hall, a handsome building, we return +to the road, and ascend Yearby bank—a bank which out of +Yorkshire would be called a hill. Look back when near the +top, and you will have a pleasing prospect: Kirkleatham nestled +among the trees, the green fields refreshing to the eye; Eston +Nab and the brown estuary beyond. Here we are on the +verge of the Earl of Zetland’s richly wooded estate—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Behold Upleatham, slop’d with graceful ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hanging enraptur’d o’er the winding Tees”—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and the breeze makes merry among the branches that overhang +us on both sides till a grand fragment of a ruin appears +in sight—the tall east window of a once magnificent Priory—rising +stately in decay from amidst the verdure of a fertile +valley, and we enter the small market-town of Guisborough.</p> + +<p>Having refreshed myself at <i>The Buck</i>, I took an evening +stroll, not a little surprised at the changes which the place +had undergone since I once saw it. Then it had the homely +aspect of a village, and scarce a sound would you hear after +nine at night in its long wide street: now at both ends new +houses intrude on the fields and hedgerows, the side lanes have +grown into streets lit by gas and watched by policemen. +Tippling iron-diggers disturb the night with noisy shouts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +when sober folk are a-bed, and the old honest look has +disappeared for ever. In the olden time it was said, “The +inhabitants of this place are observed by travellers to be very +civil and well bred, cleanly in dressing their diet, and very +decent in their houses.” The old hall is gone, but the gardens +remain: you see the ample walnut-trees and the primeval +yew behind the wall on your way to the churchyard. Seven +centuries have rolled away since that Norman gateway was +built, and it looks strong enough to stand another seven. +Under the shadow of those trees was a burial-place of the +monks: now the shadow falls on mutilated statues and other +sculptured relics, and on the tomb of Robert Brus, one of the +claimants of the Scottish throne and founder of the abbey, +who was buried here in 1294. Even in decay it is an +admirable specimen of ancient art.</p> + +<p>From the meadow adjoining the churchyard you get a +good view of the great east window, or rather of the empty +arch which the window once filled; and looking at its noble +dimensions, supported by buttresses, flanked by the windows +of the aisles, and still adorned with crumbling finials, you will +easily believe what is recorded of Guisborough Priory—that +it was the richest in Yorkshire. It was dedicated to St. +Augustine, and when the sacred edifice stood erect in beauty, +the tall spire pointing far upwards, seen miles around, many a +weary pilgrim must have invoked a blessing on its munificent +founder—a Bruce of whom the Church might well be proud.</p> + +<p>Hemingford, whose chronicle of events during the reigns of +the first three Edwards contains many curious matters of +ecclesiastical history, was a canon of Guisborough; and among +the priors we find Bishop Pursglove, him of whom our ancient +gossip Izaak makes loving mention. Another name associated +with the place is Sir Thomas Chaloner, eminent alike in exercises +of the sword, and pen, and statesmanship. It was here +in the neighbourhood that he discovered alum, as already +mentioned, led thereto by observing that the leaves of the +trees about the village were not so dark a green as elsewhere, +while the whitish clay soil never froze, and “in a pretty clear +night shined and sparkled like glass upon the road-side.”</p> + +<p>Skeletons and stone coffins have been dug up from time to +time, and reburied in the churchyard. On one occasion the +diggers came upon a deposit of silver plate; and from these +and other signs the presence of a numerous population on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +spot in former days has been inferred. Our quaint friend, +who has been more than once quoted, says: “Cleveland hath +been wonderfully inhabited more than yt is nowe ... nowe all +their lodgings are gone; and the country, as a widow, remayneth +mournful.” And among the local traditions, there +is the not uncommon one, which hints obscurely at a subterranean +passage, leading from the Priory to some place adjacent, +within which lay a chest of gold guarded by a raven.</p> + +<p>Situate near the foot of a finely-wooded range of hills, +the ruin shows effectively with the green heights for a background. +More delightful than now must the prospect have +been in the early days, and even within the present century, +when no great excavations of ironstone left yellow blots in +the masses of foliage.</p> + +<p>The sun went down while I sauntered about, and when +I took my last look at the great east window the ruddy +blaze streamed through its lofty space, and as each side +grew dark with creeping glooms, filled it with quivering +beams whereunto all the glory of glass would be but a +mockery.</p> + +<p>Guisborough may claim to rank among watering-places, for +it has a spa, with appliances for drinking and bathing, down +in a romantic nook of Spa Wood, watered by Alumwork +beck. The walk thither, and onwards through Waterfall +wood to Skelton, is one of the prettiest in the neighbourhood. +And on the hill-slopes, Bellman bank—formerly Bellemonde—still +claims notice for pleasing scenery. The medicinal +properties of the spring were discovered in 1822. The water, +which is clear and sparkling, tastes and smells slightly of +sulphur and weak alkaline constituents, and is considered +beneficial in diseases of the skin and indigestion. And in +common with other small towns in Yorkshire, Guisborough +has a free grammar-school, which, at least, keeps alive the +memory of its founder.</p> + +<p>Mine host of <i>The Buck</i> said, as we talked together later +in the evening about the changes that had taken place, that +although more money came into the town than in years gone +by, he did not think that better habits or better morals came +in along with it. A similar remark would be made wherever +numbers of rude labourers earn high wages. Even in the +good old times there was something to complain of. George +Fox tells us, concerning his proselytes in Cleveland, that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +fell away from their first principles and took to ranting; and +at the time of his later visits “they smoked tobacco and drank +ale in their meetings, and were grown light and loose.” +And John Wesley, on his first visit to Guisborough, in 1761, +found what was little better than practical heathenism. He +preached from a table standing in the market-place, where +“there was,” as he writes, “so vehement a stench of stinking +fish as was ready to suffocate me.” The people “roared;” +but as the zealous apostle of Methodism went on in his sermon +they gradually became overawed, and listened in silence. +Did their forefathers ever roar when Paulinus preached to +them from a mossy rock, or under the shadow of a spreading +oak? Wesley, however, made an impression, and followed it +up by visits in four subsequent years.</p> + +<p>At any rate, there was no noise to disturb the Sunday quiet +when I went forth on the morrow. While passing along the +street I noticed many cottagers reading at their doors, and +exposing a pair of clean white shirt-sleeves to the morning +sun. Turning presently into a road on the left, which rises +gently, you get an embowered view of the town, terminated +by the soaring arch. Then we come to Hutton Lowcross, a +pleasant hamlet, which suggests a thought of the days of old, +for it once had an hospital and a Cistercian nunnery. Hutton +joined to the name of a village is a characteristic of Cleveland. +In one instance—a few miles from this—it helps out +an unflattering couplet:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Hutton Rudby, Entrepen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far more rogues than honest men.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We cross the railway near a station, which, as a cottager +told me is “Mr. Pease’s station; built for hisself, and not for +everybody;” and take a bridle road leading to the hill. I +fell in with a couple of rustics, who were able to enjoy the +scenery amid which they had lived for years. They lay +under a tree, at a spot open to the prospect down the valley; +and as I commended their choice, one replied “I do like to +come and set here of a Sunday better than anything else. +’Tis so nice to hear the leaves a-rustlin’ like they do now.” +But the view there was nothing to what I should see from the +hill-top: there couldn’t be a prettier sight in England than +that.</p> + +<p>I felt willing to believe them; and a few minutes later<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +strode from the steep, narrow lane, where ferns, foxgloves, +wild roses, and elders overhang the way, to the open expanse +of Guisborough moors. Here a track runs along the undulating +slope to the foot of the hills, which roll away on the +left to the wild region of Black-a-moor, with many a pleasant +vale and secluded village between, while on the right spreads +the cultivated plain, of which, ere long, we shall get a wider +view; for now Rosebury Topping comes clear in sight, from +gorse-patched base to rocky apex, and your eye begins to select +a place for ascent. It is approachable on all sides; no swamp +betrays the foot, but the steepness in some places compels you +to use hands as well as feet. The morning was already hot, +and I was fain to sit down in the belt of bracken above the +gorse and breathe awhile, glad to have climbed beyond reach +of the flies. From the fern you mount across clean, soft +turf to the bare wall of rock which encircles the northern +half of the summit, where the breeze of the plain is a brisk +wind, cooling and invigorating as it sweeps across. I threw +off my knapsack, and choosing a good resting-place, lay down +in idle enjoyment of being able to see far enough.</p> + +<p>Who that has travelled knows not what an enjoyment it is +to recline at length on a hill-top, the head reposing on a +cushion of moss, and to have nothing to do but let the eye +rove at will over the wide-spread landscape below? Sheltered +by the rock, you breathe the coolness of upper air without +its rapid chill, and indulge for a while in lazy contemplation. +It is the very luxury of out-door existence. Perhaps you are +somewhat overcome by the labour of the ascent, and unconsciousness +steals gently on you; and a snatch of slumber in +such a spot, while the winds whisper of gladness in your ear, +and a faint hush floats to and fro among the blades of grass, +is a pleasure which can be imagined only by one who beholds +at his awaking the blue sky and the broad earth of the great +Giver.</p> + +<p>At length curiosity prevails. Here we are a thousand and +twenty-two feet above the sea—an elevation that sounds small +after Switzerland and Tyrol; but a very little experience of +travelling convinces one that the highest hills are not those +which always command the most pleasing views. Standing +on the top of the crag you may scan the whole ring of the +horizon, from the sea on the east to the high summits of the +west; from the bleak ridges of Black-a-moor to the head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>lands +of Northumberland, seen dimly through the smoky +atmosphere of the Durham coal-fields.</p> + +<p>Considering, reader, that I may please myself at times, as +well as you, I borrow again from our honest friend, whose +admiration of the picturesque appears to have equalled his +ability to note the useful. “There is,” he says, “a most +goodly prospecte from the toppe of thys hyll, though paynefully +gayned by reason of the steepnesse of yt.... There you +may see a vewe the like whereof I never saw, or thinke that +any traveller hath seen any comparable unto yt, albeit I have +shewed yt to divers that have paste through a greate part of +the worlde, both by sea and land. The vales, rivers, great +and small, swelinge hylls and mountaynes, pastures, meadows, +woodes, cornefields, parte of the Bishopricke of Durham, with +the newe porte of Tease lately found to be safe, and the sea +replenyshed with shippes, and a most pleasant flatt coaste +subjecte to noe inundation or hazarde make that countrye happy +if the people had the grace to make use of theire owne +happinesse, which may be amended if it please God to send +them trafique and good example of thrifte.” All this is still +true; but Tees has now other ports, and Middlesborough, +which has grown rapidly as an American town, and the iron +furnaces, spread a smoky veil here and there across the landscape, +which, when our narrator looked down upon it, lay +everywhere clear and bright in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>The name of the hill is said to be derived from <i>Ross</i>, a heath +or moor; <i>Burg</i>, a fortress; and <i>Toppen</i>, Danish for apex. +If you incline to go back to very early days—as the Germans +do—try to repeople the rows of basin-like pits which, traceable +around the slope of the hill, are, so the students of +antiquity tell us, the remains of ancient British dwellings. +Were they inhabited when the Brigantes first mustered to +repel the Romans? Rebuild the hermitage which, constructed +once by a solitary here in the rock, was afterwards known +as the smith’s forge or cobbler’s shop; and restore the crevice +which, far-famed as Wilfrid’s needle, tempted many a pilgrim +to the expiatory task of creeping through the needle’s eye. +No traces of them are now left, for the remains which Time +respected were destroyed some years ago by quarrymen, and +with them the perfect point of the cone.</p> + +<p>Rosebury Topping was once talked of as the best site for a +monument to the memory of Cook, where it would be seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +from his birthplace and for miles around. But another spot +was chosen, and looking to the south-east you see the tall, +plain column on Easby heights, about three miles distant. It +was erected in 1827, at the cost of Mr. Robert Campion, of +Whitby. At the foot of the hill, in the same direction, partly +concealed by trees, and watered by the river Leven, lies the +village of Great Ayton—canny Yatton—where Cook went to +school after finishing his course of Mary Walker’s lessons. In +the churchyard is a stone, which records the death of Cook’s +mother, and of some of his brothers and sisters, supposed to +have been wrought by his father, who was a working mason. +It is said, however, that the old man was unable to read until +the age of seventy-five, when he learned in order that he +might have the pleasure of reading the narrative of his son’s +voyages of discovery. Of other noteworthy objects in the +village are a monument to Commodore Wilson in the church; +a Chapel-well of the olden time; and an agricultural school, +with seventy-five acres of good land attached, belonging +to the Quakers. Farming work and in-doors work are +there taught to boys and girls in a thoroughly practical way, +carrying out the intentions of the chief promoter, who gave +the land and 5000<i>l.</i> to establish the institution.</p> + +<p>A few yards below the rocks a spring trickles slowly into a +hollow under a stone, but the quantity of water is too small to +keep itself free from the weeds and scum which render it +unfit for drinking. It can hardly be the fatal spring of the +tradition, wherein is preserved the memory of a Northumbrian +queen and Prince Oswy, her son. Soothsayers had foretold +the boy’s death by drowning on a certain day: the mother, to +keep him from harm, brought him to this lofty hill-side early +on the threatened day, where, at all events, he would be in +no danger from water. Fondly she talked with him for a +while and watched his play: but drowsiness stole over her and +she fell asleep. By-and-by she woke, and looked hastily +round for her darling. He was nowhere to be seen. She flew +hither and thither, searching wildly, and at last found him +lying dead, with his face in the spring.</p> + +<p>Looking to the north-east we see Skelton, backed by the +Upleatham woods. Though but a speck in the landscape, it +has contributed more to history than places which boast acres +of houses. “From this little nook of Cleveland,” says the +local historian, “sprang mighty monarchs, queens, high-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>chancellors, +archbishops, earls, barons, ambassadors, and +knights, and, above all, one brilliant and immortal name—Robert +Bruce.” We hear of a Robert de Brus, second of the +name, trying to dissuade David of Scotland from awaiting the +attack of the English army near Northallerton: but the king +chose to fight, and lost, as we have already read, the Battle of +the Standard. And the sixth baron, Peter de Brus, was one +of the resolute band who made his mark at Runnymede, and +helped to wrest the right of Liberty from a royal craven.</p> + +<p>Then taking a stride to later years, we find the author of +<i>Crazy Tales</i>, John Hall Stephenson, the occupant of Skelton +Castle, an esquire hospitable and eccentric, the Eugenius of +Sterne, who was his willing guest:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“In this retreat, whilom so sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once Tristram and his cousin dwelt.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There it was that Sterne bribed a boy to tie the weathercock +with its point to the west, hoping thereby to lure the host +from his chamber; for Eugenius would never leave his bed +while the wind blew from the east, even though good company +longed for his presence.</p> + +<p>In one of his poems the “crazy” author describes the hill +country such as we see it stretching away beyond Cook’s +monument:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Where the beholder stands confounded<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At such a scene of mountains bleak;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where nothing goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except some solitary pewit,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And carrion crows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seem sincerely to rue it:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where nothing grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So keen it blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save here and there a graceless fir,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Scotland with its kindred fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That moves its arms and makes a stir,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tosses its fantastic head.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>On Eston Nab, that bold hill between us and the Tees, is +an ancient camp, and graves supposed to be two thousand years +old. Kildale, in the opposite direction, had once a diabolical +notoriety; for there the devil played many a prank, and drank +the church-well dry, so that the priest could get no holy water. +Ingleby Manor, an antique Tudor house, belonged to the +Foulis family, who gave a noteworthy captain to the army of +the Parliament. And other historic names—the D’Arcys,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +Eures, Percys, and Baliols—all had estates overlooked by +Rosebury. Wilton Castle, not far from the foot of Eston +Nab, was built by Sir John Lowther, about fifty years ago, on +the site of a fortress once held by the Bulmers.</p> + +<p>Now to return for a moment to the hill itself: the topmost +rocks are of the same formation as those we saw stretching +into the sea at Redcar, uptilted more than a thousand feet in +a distance of ten miles. And lower down, as if to exemplify +the geology of the North Riding in one spot, a thick stratum +of alum-rock is found, with ironstone, limestone, jet and coal, +and numerous fossil shells. And it illustrates meteorological +phenomena, for, from time immemorial, weatherwise folk have +said,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“When Rosebury Topping wears a cap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Cleveland then beware a clap.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>More than an hour slipped away while I lounged and +loitered, making the round of the summit again and again, till +it seemed that the landscape had become familiar to me. +Then the solitude was broken by the arrival of strangers, who +came scrambling up the hill, encouraging one another, with +cheerful voices. They gained the rocks at last, panting; two +families from Middlesborough, husbands, wives, boys and girls, +and a baby, with plenty to eat and drink in their baskets, +come from the murky town to pass the Sunday on the breezy +hill-top. How they enjoyed the pure air and the wide +prospect; and how they wondered to find room for a camp-meeting +on a summit which, from their homes, looked as if it +were only a blunt point! They told me that a trip to +Rosebury Topping was an especial recreation for the people of +Middlesborough—a town which, by the way, is built on a +swampy site, where the only redeeming feature is ready access +to a navigable river. I remember what it was before the +houses were built. A drearier spot could not be imagined: +one of those places which, as <i>Punch</i> says, “you want never to +hear of, and hope never to see.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis frightful to see how fast the graves do grow up in the +new cemetery,” said one of the women, whose glad surprise +at the contrast between her home and her holiday could hardly +express itself in words. “It can’t be a healthy place to bring +up a family in. That’s where we live, is it—down there, +under all that smoke? Ah! if we could only come up here +every day!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>Middlesborough, as we can see from far off, is now a large +town, numbering nearly 8000 inhabitants in 1851, and owes +its sudden growth to coal and iron. There the smelting +furnaces, roaring night and day, convert hundreds of tons of +the Cleveland hills every week into tons of marketable iron. +The quantity produced in 1856 in the Cleveland district was +180,000 tons. And there is the terminus of the “Quakers’ +Railway;” a dock, of nine acres, where vessels can load at all +times of the tide; an ingenious system of drops for the coal; +branch railways running in all directions; and a great level +of fifteen acres, on which three thousand wagons can stand at +once.</p> + +<p>I stayed two hours on the hill-top, then taking a direct +line down the steepest side, now sliding, now rolling, very few +minutes brought me to the village of Newton at the foot. With +so sudden a change, the heat below seemed at first overpowering. +In the public-house, which scrupled not to open its door +to a traveller, I found half a dozen miners, who had walked over +from a neighbouring village to drink their pint without molestation. +Each recommended a different route whereby the ten +miles to Stockton might be shortened. One insisted on a cut +across the fields to Nunth<i>ar</i>p.</p> + +<p>My ear caught at the sharp twang of the <i>ar</i>—a Yorkshire +man would have said Nunthurp—and turning to the speaker +I said, “Surely that’s Berkshire?”</p> + +<p>“Ees, ’tis. I comes not fur from Read’n’.”</p> + +<p>True enough. Tempted by high wages in the north, he +had wandered from the neighbourhood of <i>Our Village</i> up to +the iron-diggings of Cleveland. I took it for granted that, as +he earned more than twice as much as he did at home, he +saved in proportion. But no; he didn’t know how ’twas; +the money went somehow. Any way he didn’t save a fardin’ +more than he did in Berkshire. I ventured to reply that +there was little good in earning more if one did not save more, +when a tall brawny fellow broke in with, “Look here, lad. +I’d ruther ’arn fifty shillin’s a week and fling ’em right off +into that pond there, than ’arn fifteen to keep.”</p> + +<p>Just the retort that was to be expected under the circumstances. +It embodies a touch of proud sentiment in which +we can all participate.</p> + +<p>I found the short cut to Nunthorp, struck there the high +road, and came in another hour to Marton—the birthplace of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +Cook. It is a small village with a modernised church, and a +few noble limes overshadowing the graves. The house where +the circumnavigator was born was little better than a clay +hovel of two rooms. It has long since disappeared; but the +field on which it stood is still called “Cook’s Garth.” The +parish register contains an entry under the date November 3rd, +1728: “James, ye son of James Cook, day-labourer, baptized.” +The name of Mary Walker, aged 89, appears on one of the +stones in the churchyard; she it was who taught the day-labourer’s +son to read while he was in her service, and who +has been mistakenly described as Dame Walker the schoolmistress.</p> + +<p>I caught the evening train at Stockton, which travelling up +the Durham side of the Tees—past Yarm, where Havelock’s +mother was born—past the “hell kettles” and Dinsdale Spa, +where drinking the water turns all the silver yellow in your +pockets—and so to Darlington, where I stayed for the night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Locomotive, Number One—Barnard Castle—Buying a Calf on Sunday—Baliol’s +Tower—From Canute to the Duke of Cleveland—Historic Scenery—A +surprised Northumbrian—The bearded Hermit—Beauty of Teesdale—Egliston +Abbey—The Artist and his Wife—Dotheboys Hall—Rokeby—Greta +Bridge—Mortham Tower—Brignall Banks—A Pilgrimage to Wycliffe—Fate +of the Inns—The Felon Sow—A Journey by Omnibus—Lartington—Cotherstone—Scandinavian +Traces—Romaldkirk—Middleton-in-Teesdale—Wild +Scenery—High Force Inn—The voice of the Fall.</p> + +<p>Facing the entrance to the railway station, elevated on a +pedestal of masonry, stands the first locomotive—<i>Number +One</i>. With such machines as that did the Quakers begin in +1823 to transport coal from the mines near Darlington to +Middlesborough along their newly-opened railway. Compared +with the snorting giants of the Great Western, its +form and dimensions are small and simple. No glittering +brass or polished steel bedeck its strength; it is nothing but +a black boiler, mounted on wheels, with three or four slender +working-rods standing up near one end, and the chimney +with its saw-toothed top at the other. Yet, common as it +looks, it is one of George Stephenson’s early triumphs: one +of the steps by which he, and others after him, established +more and more the supremacy of mind over mere brute +matter. It was a happy thought to preserve <i>Number One</i> on +the spot where enlightened enterprise first developed its +capabilities.</p> + +<p>Tees is one of those streams—the “silly few”—which owe +a divided allegiance, watering two counties at once. Rising +high amidst the wildest hills of the north-west, it takes a +course of eighty-three miles to the sea through many scenes +of romantic beauty. Yesterday we looked down from Rosebury +on the last two or three leagues of its outfall; to-day +if all go well we shall see the summit from which it springs. +It is a glorious morning; the earliest train arrives, interrupts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +our examination of the old locomotive, and away we go to +breakfast at Barnard Castle, on the Durham side of the +river.</p> + +<p>There is so much of beautiful and interesting in the neighbourhood, +scenes made classic by the pen of Scott, that I +chose to pass the day in rambling, and journey farther in the +evening. The town itself, old-fashioned in aspect, quiet +enough for grass to grow here and there in the streets, was +one of the ancient border-towns, and paid the penalty of its +position. It has a curious market-cross, and touches of antiquity +in the byeways; and owing to something in its former +habits or history, is a butt for popular wit. “Barney-Cassel, +the last place that God made,” is one way of mentioning the +town by folk in other parts of the county; if you meet with +a fellow more uncouth than usual, he is “Barney-Cassel +bred;” any one who shoots with the long bow is silenced +with “That wunna do, that’s Barney-Cassel;” and as Barney-Cassel +farmers may be recognised by the holes in their sacks, +so may the women by holes in their stockings.</p> + +<p>One Sunday morning, a farmer, while on his way to chapel, +noticed a fine calf in his neighbour’s field, and when seated +in his pew, was overheard to ask the owner of the animal, +“Tommy, supposin’ it was Monday, what wad ye tak’ for yer +calf?” To which Tommy replied in an equally audible +whisper, “Why, supposin’ it was Monday, aw’d tak’ two +pun’ fifteen.” “Supposin’ it was Monday aw’ll gie two pun’ +ten.” “Supposin’ it was Monday, then ye shall hev’t.” +And the next day the calf was delivered to the scrupulous +purchaser.</p> + +<p>The pride of the town is the castle—ruined remains of the +stronghold erected by Bernard Baliol to protect the lands +bestowed on him by William the Red. Seen from the bridge, +the rocky height, broken and craggy, and hung with wood, +crowned by Baliol’s Tower, is remarkably picturesque. The +Tees sweeps round the base, as if impatient to hide itself +once more under green woods, to receive once more such +intermingled shadows of rock and leafage as fell on it through +Marwood Chase, and where Balder rushes in about a league +above. A mile of sunlight, and then the brawling stream +will play with the big stones and crowd its bed all through +the woods of Rokeby.</p> + +<p>Let us mount the hill and ascend the tower. The bearded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +hermit who inhabits therein points the way to the stone stair +constructed within the massive wall, and presently we come +to the top, where, although there is no parapet, the great +thickness admits of your walking round in safety. The view +is a feast for the eye—thick woods marking the course of the +river, the trees thinning off as they meet the uplands, where +fields and hedgerows diversify the landscape away to the hills; +while in the distance the sight of dark, solemn moorlands +serves but to heighten the nearer beauty. We can see lands +once held by King Canute, now the property of the Duke of +Cleveland: we passed his estate, the park and castle of Raby, +about six miles distant on our way hither; and whichever +way we look there is something for memory to linger on:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Staindrop, who, from her sylvan bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Salutes proud Raby’s battled towers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rural brook of Egliston,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Balder, named from Odin’s son;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Greta, to whose banks ere long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We lead the lovers of the song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silver Lune, from Stanmore wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fairy Thorsgill’s murmuring child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And last and least, but loveliest still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Romantic Deepdale’s slender rill.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Barnard Castle was lost to the Baliol family by the defeat +of John Baliol’s pretensions to the crown of Scotland. Later +it was granted, with the adjoining estates, to the Earls of +Warwick, and on the marriage of Anne Neville with royal +Gloucester, the Duke chose it as his favourite residence. +You may still see his cognizance of the boar here and there on +the walls, and on some of the oldest houses in the town. The +Earl of Westmoreland had it next, but lost it by taking part +in <i>The Rising of the North</i>. The couplet:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Coward, a coward, of Barney Castel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dare not come out to fight a battel,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>is said to have its origin in the refusal of the knight who +held the castle, to quit the shelter of its walls and try the +effect of a combat with the rebels. And so the game went +on, the Crown resuming possession at pleasure, until the +whole property fell by purchase, in 1629, to an ancestor of +the present owner—the Duke of Cleveland.</p> + +<p>“Whoy! ’tis but a little town to ha’ such a muckle castle,” +exclaimed one of three men who had just arrived with a +numerous party by excursion train from Newcastle, and ven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>tured +to the top of the tower. “Eh! the castle wur bigger +nor the town.”</p> + +<p>Whatever may have been, the thick-voiced Northumbrian +was wrong in his first conclusion, for the town has more than +four thousand inhabitants. But, looking down, we can see +that the castle with its outworks and inner buildings must +have been a fortress of no ordinary dimensions. Nearly +seven acres are comprehended within its area, now chiefly +laid out in gardens, where, sheltered by the old gray stones, +the trees bear generous fruit. If you can persuade the +hermit to ascend, he will point out Brackenbury’s Tower, a +dilapidated relic, with dungeons in its base, now used as +stables; and near it a cow-stall, which occupies the site of +the chapel. Examine the place when you descend, and you +will discover, amid much disfigurement, traces of graceful +architecture.</p> + +<p>The hermit himself—a man of middle age—is a subject +for curiosity. So far as I could make him out, he appeared +to be half misanthropist, half misogynist. He quarrelled +with the world about eighteen years ago, and, without asking +leave, took possession of a vault and a wall-cavity at the foot +of the great round tower, and has lived there ever since, +supporting himself by the donations of visitors, and the sale +of rustic furniture which he makes with his own hands. His +room in the wall is fitted with specimens of his skill, and it +serves as a trap, for you have to pass through it to ascend the +tower. He showed me his workshop, and pointed out a spot +under the trees at the hill-foot where flows the clear cold +spring from which he draws water. The Duke, he said, +sometimes came to look at the ruin, and gave him a hint to +quit; but he did not mean to leave until absolutely compelled. +I heard later in the day that he had been crossed in +love; and that, notwithstanding his love of solitude, he would +go out at times and find a friend, and make a night of it. +But this may be scandal.</p> + +<p>I went down and took a drink at the spring which, embowered +by trees and bushes, sparkles forth from the rocky +brink of the river; and rambled away to Rokeby. There +are paths on both sides of the stream, along the edge of the +meadows, and under the trees past the mill, past cottages and +gardens, leading farther and farther into scenes of increasing +beauty. Then we come to the Abbey Bridge, whence you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +get a pleasing view of a long straight reach of the river, +terminated by a glimpse of Rokeby Hall, a charming avenue, +so to speak, of tall woods, which, with ferns, shrubs, and +mazy plants, crowd the rocky slopes to the very edge of the +water. From ledge to ledge rushes the stream, making +falls innumerable, decked with living fringes of foam, and as +the noisy current hurries onward it engirdles the boulders with +foamy rings, or hangs upon them a long white train that flutters +and glistens as sunbeams drop down through the wind-shaken +leaves. Strong contrasts of colour enrich the effect:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Here Tees, full many a fathom low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wears with his rage no common foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For pebbly bank, nor sand-bed here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor clay-mound, checks his fierce career,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Condemn’d to mine a channell’d way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O’er solid sheets of marble gray.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>On the Yorkshire side, a few yards above the bridge, the +remains of Egliston or Athelstan Abbey crown a pleasant +knoll surrounded by wood. They are of small extent, and, +on the whole, deficient in the picturesque; but as an artist +said who sketched while his wife sat sewing by his side, +“There are a few little bits worth carrying away.” The east +window, in which the plain mullions still remain, is of unusual +width, the chancel exhibits carvings of different styles; +two or three slabs lying on the grass preserve the memory of +an abbot, and of a Rokeby, who figures in the still legible inscription +as <span class="blackletter">Bastard</span>; and the outbuildings are now occupied +as a farm. Some years hence, when the ivy, which has begun +to embrace the eastern window, shall have spread its evergreen +mantle wider and higher, the ruins will be endowed with a +charm wherein their present scanty nakedness may be concealed. +Yet apart from this the place has natural attractions, a village +green, noble trees, Thorsgill within sight; and just beyond +the green a mill of cheerful clatter.</p> + +<p>The artist and his wife were enjoying a happy holiday. +They had come down into Yorkshire with a fortnight’s excursion +ticket, and a scheme for visiting as many of the +abbeys and as much picturesque scenery as possible within the +allotted time. Sometimes they walked eight or ten miles, or +travelled a stage in a country car, content to rough it, so that +their wishes should be gratified. They had walked across +from Stainmoor the day before, and told me that in passing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +through Bowes they had seen the original of Dotheboys Hall, +now doorless, windowless, and dilapidated. Nicholas Nickleby’s +exposure was too much for it, and it ceased to be a den +of hopeless childhood—a place to which heartless fathers and +mothers condemned their children because it was cheap.</p> + +<p>What a contrast! Wackford Squeers and the Thracian +cohort. Bowes, under the name of Lavatrę, was once a station +on the great Roman road from Lincoln to Carlisle. Ere +long it will be a station on the railway that is to connect +Stockton with Liverpool.</p> + +<p>Now, returning to the bridge, we plunge into the woods, +and follow the river’s course by devious paths. Gladsome +voices and merry laughter resound, for a numerous detachment +of the excursionists from Newcastle are on their way to +view the grounds of Rokeby. Delightful are the snatches of +river scenery that we get here and there, where the jutting +rock affords an outlook, and the more so as we enjoy them +under a cool green shade. Leaving the Northumbrians at the +lodge to accomplish their wishes, I kept on to Greta Bridge, +and lost myself in the romantic glen through which the river +flows. It will surprise you by its manifold combinations of +rock, wood, and water, fascinating the eye at every step amid +a solitude profound. This was the route taken by Bertram +and Wilfrid when the ruthless soldier went to take possession +of Mortham. You cannot fail to recognize how truly Scott +describes the scenery; the “beetling brow” is there, and the +“ivied banners” still hang from the crags as when the minstrel +saw them. We can follow the two to that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“——grassy slope which sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Greta flow to meet the Tees:”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and farther, where</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“South of the gate, an arrow flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two mighty elms their limbs unite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if a canopy to spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O’er the lone dwelling of the dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For their huge boughs in arches bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above a massive monument,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carved o’er in ancient Gothic wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a scutcheon and device.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You will long to lengthen your hours into days for wanderings +in this lovely neighbourhood. You will be unwilling to +turn from the view at Mortham Tower—one of the old border +peels, or fortresses on a small scale—or that which charms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +you from the Dairy Bridge. Then if the risk of losing your +way does not deter, you may ramble to “Brignall Banks” +and Scargill, having the river for companion most part of the +way. And should you be minded to pursue the road through +Richmondshire to Richmond, the village and ruins of Ravensworth +will remind you of</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he views his domains upon Arkindale side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mere for his net and the land for his game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the fish of the lake, and the door of the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are less free to Lord Dacre than Allen-a-Dale!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Or, if inspired by a deeper sentiment, you prefer a pilgrimage +to a spot of hallowed memory to every Englishman, choose +the river-side path to Wycliffe, and see how ever new beauties +enchant the way, and say on arrival if ever you saw a prettier +village church or a more charming environment. Shut in by +woods and hills here, as some writers show, is the birthplace +of John Wycliffe, to whom freedom of conscience is perhaps +more indebted than to Luther. One may believe that Nature +herself desires to preserve from desecration the cradle of him +who opened men’s hearts and eyes to see and understand the +truth in its purity; cleansed from the adulterations of priestcraft; +stripped of all the blinding cheats of papistry; who +died faithful to the truth for which he had dared to live; who +bequeathed that truth to us, and with God’s blessing we will +keep it alive and unblemished, using it manfully as a testimony +against all lies and shams whatsoever and wheresoever they +may be found.</p> + +<p>The church was restored, as one may judge, in a loving +spirit in 1850. It contains a few interesting antiquities, and +is fraught with memories of the Wycliffes. One of the +brasses records the death of the last of the family. Sir Antonio +a-More’s portrait of the great Reformer still hangs in the +rectory, where it has been treasured for many generations.</p> + +<p>You may return from this pilgrimage by the way you went, +or walk on through Ovington to Winston, and there take the +train to Barnard Castle. I preferred the banks of Tees, for +their attractions are not soon exhausted. One of the houses at +Greta, which was a famous hostelry in the days of stage-coaches, +is now a not happy-looking farm-house. It has seen +sore changes. Once noise and activity, and unscrupulous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +profits, when the compact vehicles with the four panting +horses rattled up to the door at all hours of the day or night, +conveying passengers from London to Edinburgh. Now, a +silence seldom disturbed save by the river’s voice, and time for +reflection, and leisure to look across to its neighbour, wherein +the wayfarer or angler may still find rest and entertainment. +From Greta Bridge to Boroughbridge was considered the best +bit of road in all the county. Now it is encroached on by +grass, and the inns which are not shut up look altogether dejected, +especially that one where the dining-room has been +converted into a stable.</p> + +<p>If you have read the ballad of <i>The Felon Sow</i>, we will +remember it while repassing the park:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“She was mare than other three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grisliest beast that e’er might be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her head was great and gray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was bred in Rokeby wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There were few that thither goed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That came on live away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Her walk was endlong Greta side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was no bren that durst her bide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That was froe heaven to hell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever man that had that might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever durst come in her sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her force it was so fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“If ye will any more of this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the Fryers of Richmond ’tis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In parchment good and fine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how Fryar Middleton that was so kend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Greta Bridge conjured a feind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In likeness of a swine.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I got back to Barnard Castle in time for the omnibus, which +starts at half-past five for Middleton-in-Teesdale, nine miles +distant on the road to the hills. I was the only passenger, +and taking my seat by the side of the driver, found him very +willing to talk. The road ascends immediately after crossing +the bridge to a finely-wooded district, hill and dale, rich in +oak, ash, and beech. Deepdale beck yawns on the left, and +every mile opens fresh enjoyment to the eye, and revives +associations. Lartington is a pretty village, which hears night +and morn and all day long the tremulous voice of innumerable +leaves. “Them’s all Roman Catholics there,” said the driver, +as we left it behind; and by-and-by, when we came to Cotherstone—Cuthbert’s +Town—“Here ’tis nothin’ but cheese and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +Quakers.” There is, however, something else, for here it was</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“——the Northmen came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fix’d on each vale a Runic name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rear’d high their altar’s rugged stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave their gods the land they won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, Balder, one bleak garth was thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one sweet brooklet’s silver line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Woden’s Croft did title gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the stern Father of the Slain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to the Monarch of the Mace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That held in fight the foremost place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Odin’s son, and Sifia’s spouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near Stratforth high they paid their vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembered Thor’s victorious fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave the dell the Thunderer’s name.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A delightful day might be spent hereabouts in exploring +the glen of the Balder, and the romantic scenery where it +flows into Tees; the Hagg crowned by fragments of a stronghold +of the Fitzhughs; and the grand rock on the river’s +brink known as Pendragon Castle. The whole region for +miles around was once thickly covered by forest.</p> + +<p>The pace is sober, for some of the hills are steep. We +come to Romaldkirk, and the folk, as everywhere else along +the road, step from their houses to inquire for parcels or +replies to messages, and the driver has a civil word for all, +and discharges his commissions promptly. He is an important +man in the dale, the roving link between the villagers and +the town—“Barn’d Cas’l’,” as they say, slurring it into two +syllables. It does one good to see with how much good-nature +the service can be performed.</p> + +<p>Hill after hill succeeds, the woods are left behind, the +country opens bare and wild, rolling away to the dark fells +that look stern in the distance. Big stones bestrew the slopes; +here and there a cottage seems little better than a pile of such +stones covered with slabs of slate or coarse thatch. “Poorish +wheat hereabouts,” says the driver, as he points to the pale green +fields. The farms vary in size from seventy to one hundred +and fifty acres; and he thinks it better to grow grass than grain. +Then we come in sight of Middleton, and presently he pulls +up, while a boy and girl get inside, and he tells me they are +his children, who have come out half a mile to meet him.</p> + +<p>Middleton, with its eighteen hundred inhabitants, has the +appearance of a little metropolis. There are inns and shops +which betoken an active trade, maintained probably by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +lead mines in the neighbourhood. I did not tarry, for we had +spent two hours on the journey, and I wished to sleep at the +<i>High Force Inn</i>, nearly five miles farther. We are still on the +Durham side of the Tees, with the river now in sight, winding +along its shallow, stony bed. The road is an almost continuous +ascent, whereby the landscape appears to widen, and +every minute the shadows grow broader and darker across the +vale. At last the sun drops behind the hill-top, and the lights +playing on the summits of the fells deepen into purple, +umber, and black, darkest where the slopes and ridges intersect. +Cliffs topped with wood break through the acclivities on the +left, and here and there plantations of spruce and larch +impart a sense of shelter. Every step makes us feel that we +are approaching a region where Nature partakes more of the +stern than the gentle.</p> + +<p>There is room for improvement. I interrupted three boys +in their pastime of pelting swallows, to examine them in +reading; but they only went “whiles to skule,” and only +one could read, and that very badly, in the “Testyment.”</p> + +<p>I left Winch Bridge and the cascade which it bestrides +about three miles from Middleton, unvisited, for I was tired +with much rambling. The clean white front of <i>High Force +Inn</i> gleaming at last through the twilight was a welcome sight; +and not less so the excellent tea, which was quickly set before +me. Cleanliness prevails, and unaffected civility; and the +larder, though in a lone spot a thousand feet above the sea, +contributes without stint to the hungry appetite.</p> + +<p>It happened that I was the only guest: hence nothing +disturbed the tranquil hour. Ere long I was looking from my +chamber window on the dim outlines of the hills, and the thick +wood below that intercepts the view of the valley beneath. +Then I became aware of a solemn roar—the voice of High +Force in its ceaseless plunge. Fitfully it came at times, now +fuller, now weaker, as the night breeze rose and fell, and the +tree-tops whispered in harmony therewith.</p> + +<p>I listened awhile, sensible of a charm in the sound of +falling water; then pushing the sash to its full height, the +sound still reached me on the pillow. Strange fancies came +with it: now the river seemed to utter sonorous words; anon +the hills talked dreamily one with another, and the distant sea +sent up a reply; and then all became vague—and I slept the +sleep of the weary.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Early Morn—High Force—Rock and Water—A Talk with the Waitress—Hills +and Cottages—Cronkley Scar—The Weel—Caldron Snout—Soothing +Sound—Scrap from an Album—View into Birkdale—A Quest for Dinner—A +Westmoreland Farm—Household Matters—High Cope Nick—Mickle +Fell—The Boys’ Talk—The Hill-top—Glorious Prospect—A Descent—Solitude +and Silence—A Moss—Stainmore—Brough—The Castle Ruin—Reminiscences.</p> + +<p>The next day dawned, and a happy awaking was mine, +greeted by the same rushing voice, no longer solemn and +mysterious, but chanting, as one might imagine, a morning +song of praise. I looked out, and saw with pleasurable +surprise the fall full in view from the window: a long white +sheet of foam, glistening in the early sunbeams.</p> + +<p>All the slope between the inn and the fall is covered by a +thick plantation of firs, ash, hazel, and a teeming undergrowth, +and through this by paths winding hither and thither +you have to descend. Now the path skirts precipitous rocks, +hung with ivy, now drops gently among ferns to an embowered +seat, until at a sudden turn the noise of the fall bursts grandly +upon you. A little farther, and the trees no longer screening, +you see the deep stony chasm, and the peat-stained water +making three perpendicular leaps down a precipice seventy +feet in height. It is a striking scene, what with the grim +crags, the wild slopes, and the huge masses lying at the +bottom and in the bed of the stream; and the impressive +volume of sound.</p> + +<p>We can scramble down to the very foot of the limestone +bluff that projects in the middle, leaving a channel on each +side, down one of which a mere thread of water trickles; but +in time of flood both are filled, and then the fall is seen and +heard in perfection. Now we can examine the smooth water-worn +cliff, and see where something like crystallization has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +been produced by a highly-heated intrusive rock. And here +and there your eye will rest with pleasure on patches of +moss and fern growing luxuriantly in dripping nooks and +crannies.</p> + +<p>You see how the water, rebounding from its second plunge, +shoots in a broken mass of foam into the brown pool below, +and therein swirls and swashes for a while, and then escapes +by an outlet that you might leap across, talking to thousands +of stones as it spreads itself out in the shallow bed. Standing +with your back to the fall, and looking down the stream, the +view, shut in by the trees on one side, by a rough grassy +acclivity on the other, is one that lures you to explore it, +striding along the rugged margin, or from one lump of rock +to another.</p> + +<p>Then returning to the diverging point in the path, we +mount to the top of the fall. Here the scene is, if possible, +wilder than below. The rock, as far as you can see, is split +into a thousand crevices, and through these the river rushes to +its leap. Such a river-bed you never saw before. The solid +uprising portions are of all dimensions, and you step from one +to the other without first feeling if they are steady. Here +and there you climb, and coming to the top of the bluff you +can look over and watch the water in its headlong plunge. The +brown tinge contrasts beautifully with the white foam; and +lying stretched on the sun-warmed rock, your eye becomes +fascinated by the swift motion and the dancing spray. Then +sit awhile on the topmost point and look up stream, and +enjoy the sight of the rapids, and the multitudinous cascades. +Though the rocks now lift their heads above water you will +notice that all are smoothly worn by the floods of ages. The +view is bounded there by a mighty high-backed fell; and in +the other direction brown moorlands meet the horizon, all +looking glad in the glorious sunshine.</p> + +<p>I loitered away two hours around the fall in unbroken solitude, +and returned to the inn to breakfast before all the dew +was dry. The house was built about twenty-five years ago, +said the waitress, when the road was made to connect the lead +mines of Alston Moor, in Cumberland, with the highways of +Durham. There was not much traffic in the winter, for then +nobody travelled but those who were compelled—farmers, +cattle-dealers, and miners; but in summer the place was kept +alive by numerous visitors to the fall. Most were contented<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +with a sight of High Force; but others went farther, and +looked at Caldron Snout and High Cope Nick. Sometimes a +school came up for a day’s holiday; they had entertained one +the day before—two wagon-loads of Roman Catholic children. +True enough, our omnibus had met them returning.</p> + +<p>The house looks across the valley to Holwick Fell, and +were it not for the trees in front, would have but a bare and, +at times, desolate prospect. The whole premises are as clean +as whitewash can make them; even the stone fences are +whitewashed. The Duke of Cleveland is proprietor: he +ought to be proud of his tenants.</p> + +<p>How glad the morning seemed when I stepped forth again +into the sunshine to travel a few miles farther up the Tees. +The road still ascends and curves into the bleak and lonely +fells, which stretch across the west of Durham and into +Cumberland. In winter they are howling wastes, and in +snow-storms appalling, as I remember from painful experience. +But in summer there is a monotonous grandeur about +them comparable only with that of the ocean.</p> + +<p>Just beyond the sixteenth milestone from Alston I got over +the fence, and followed a path edging away on the left towards +the river. It crosses pastures, little meadows, coarse swampy +patches sprinkled with flowers; disappears in places; but +while you can see the river or a cottage you need not go +astray. There is something about the cottages peculiar to a +hill-country: the ground-floor is used as a barn and stable, +and the dwelling-rooms are above, approached by a stone stair +on the outside. With their walls freshly whitewashed, they +appear as bright specks widely scattered in the wilderness; +and though no tree adorns or shelters them, they betoken the +presence of humanity, and there is comfort in that. And +withal they enjoy the purest breezes, the most sparkling +water, flowery meadows, and hills purple with heather when +summer is over. If you go to the door the inmates will +invite you to sit, and listen eagerly to the news you bring. +Meanwhile you may note the evidences of homely comfort +and apparent contentment. A girl who was pulling dock-leaves—“dockans,” +as she called them—told me they were +to be boiled for the pig.</p> + +<p>Ere long Cronkley Scar comes in sight—a tremendous +sombre precipice of the rock known to geologists as greenstone, +in which, if learned in such matters, you may peruse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +many examples of metamorphic phenomena. And hereabouts, +as botanists tell us, there are rare and interesting plants to be +discovered. The Scar is on the Yorkshire side; but the +stream is here so shallow and full of stones, that to wade +across would only be an agreeable footbath.</p> + +<p>Now the stream makes a bend between two hills, and looking +up the vale we see the lower slopes of Mickle Fell—the +highest mountain in Yorkshire. We shall perhaps climb to +its summit ere the day be many hours older.</p> + +<p>From the last dwelling—a farm-house—I mounted the hill, +and followed a course by compass to hit the river above the +bend. Soon all signs of habitation were left behind, and the +trackless moorland lay before me, overspread with a dense +growth of ling, wearisome to walk through. And how silent! +A faint sound of rushing water comes borne on the breeze, +and that is all.</p> + +<p>Then we come to the declivity, and the view opens to the +north-west, swell beyond swell, each wilder in aspect, as it +seems, than the other. And there beneath us glisten the +shining curves of the Tees. The compass has not misled us, and +we descend to the Weel, as this part of the river is called, +where for about a mile its channel deepens, and the current is +so tranquil that you might fancy it a lengthened pool. We +go no higher, but after gazing towards the fells in which the +river draws its source, we turn and follow the Weel to a rift +in the hill-side. The current quickens, the faint sound grows +louder, and presently coming to the brink of a rocky chasm +we behold the cataract of Caldron Snout. The Tees here +makes a plunge of two hundred feet, dashing from rock to +rock, twisting, whirling, eddying, and roaring in its dark and +tortuous channel. The foam appears the whiter, and the +grass all the greener, by contrast with the blackness of the +riven crags, and although no single plunge equals that at +High Force, you will perhaps be more impressed here. You +are here shut out from the world amid scenes of savage beauty, +and the sense of isolation begets a profounder admiration of +the natural scene, and enjoyment of the manifold watery +leaps, as you pause at each while scrambling down the +hill-side.</p> + +<p>About half-way down the fall is crossed by a bridge—a +rough beam only, with a rude hand-rail—from which you can +see the fall in either direction and note the stony bends of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +the river below till they disappear behind the hill. From +near its source to Caldron the Tees divides Durham from +Westmoreland, and in all its further downward course from +Yorkshire.</p> + +<p>Let me sit for an hour by the side of a fall, and watch the +swift play of the water, and hear its ceaseless splash and roar, +and whatever cobwebs may have gathered in my mind, from +whatever cause, are all swept clean away. Serenity comes +into my heart, and the calm sunshine pervades my existence +for months—nay, years afterwards. And what a joy it is to +recall—especially in a London November—or rather to renew, +the happy mood inspired by the waterfall among the mountains!</p> + +<p>I have at times fancied that the effect of the noise is somewhat +similar to that described of narcotics by those who +indulge therein. The mind forgets the body, and thinks whatsoever +it listeth. Whether or not, my most various and vivid +day-dreams have been dreamt by the side of a waterfall.</p> + +<p>It seems, moreover, at such times, as if memory liked to +ransack her old stores. And now I suddenly recollected +Hawkeye’s description of the tumbling water at Glenn’s Falls, +as narrated in <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i>, which I had read when +a boy. Turn to the page, reader, and you will admire its faithfulness. +Anon came a rhyme which a traveller who went to +see the falls of the Clyde sixty years ago, tells us he copied +from the album at Lanark:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“What fools are mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and how strangely inclin’d,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to come from all places<br /></span> +<span class="i0">with horses and chaises,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">by day and by dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">to the Falls of Lanark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“For good people after all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">what is a waterfall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It comes roaring and grumbling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and leaping and tumbling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and hopping and skipping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and foaming and dripping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and struggling and toiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and bubbling and boiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and beating and jumping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and bellowing and thumping—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have much more to say upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">both Linn and Bonniton;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">but the trunks are tied on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and I must be gone.”<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Southey, who read everything, perhaps saw this before he +wrote his <i>Fall of Lodore</i>.</p> + +<p>And we, too, must be gone; and now that we have seen</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Where Tees in tumult leaves his source<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thund’ring o’er Caldron and High Force,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>we will gather ourselves up and travel on.</p> + +<p>But whither? I desired a public-house; but no house of +any sort was to be seen—nothing but the scrubby hill-side, +and mossy-headed rocks peeping out with a frown at the +mortal who had intruded into their dominion. The end of +a meadow, however, comes over the slope on the other side of +the bridge; perhaps from the top of the slope something may +be discerned. Yes, there was a cottage. I hastened thither, +but it proved to be an old tenement now used as a byre. I +looked farther, and, about a mile distant, saw two farm-houses. +The view had opened into Birkdale, and there, on the left, +rose the huge, long-backed form of Mickle Fell, whose topmost +height was my next aim, and I could test the hospitality of +the houses on the way thither.</p> + +<p>We are now in a corner of Westmoreland which, traversed +by Birkdale, presents diversified alpine features. The valley +is green; the meadows are flowery and dotted with cattle; the +hills, stern and high, are browsed by sheep; and Maize Beck, +a talkative mountain stream, flows with many a stony bend +along the bottom—the dividing line between Westmoreland +and Yorkshire. There are no trees; and for miles wide the +only building is here and there a solitary byre.</p> + +<p>My inquiry for dinner at the first of the two houses was +answered by an invitation to sit down, and ready service of +bread, butter, milk, and cheese. I made a capital repast, and +drank as much genuine milk at one sitting as would charge a +Londoner’s supply for two months. The father was out sheep-shearing, +leaving the mother with a baby and four big children +at home. But only the eldest boy looked healthy; the others +had the sodden, unwashed appearance supposed to be peculiar +to dwellers in the alleys of large towns. No wonder, I thought, +for the kitchen, the one living room, was as hot and stifling as +a Bohemian cottage. The atmosphere was close and disagreeably +odorous; a great turf fire burned in the grate, and yet +the outer door was kept as carefully shut as if July breezes +were hurtful. I tried to make the good woman aware of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +ill consequences of bad air; but old habits are not to be +changed in an hour. She didn’t think that overmuch wind +could do anybody good, and it was best for babies to keep them +warm. They managed to do without the doctor: only +fetched him when they must. There was none nearer than +Middleton. Six weeks previously, when baby was born, they +had to send for him in a hurry; but Tees was in flood, and +Caldron Snout so full that the water ran over the bridge; her +boy, however, got across, and rode away the nine miles at full +speed on his urgent errand.</p> + +<p>What with chairs and tables, racks and shelves, the dresser, +the clock, the settee under the window, three dogs, a cat, and +a pigeon—to say nothing of the family—the room was almost +as crowded as the steerage of a ship. The pigeon—the only +one in the dale—had come from parts unknown a few weeks +before of its own accord, and was now a household pet, cooing +about the floor, and on civil terms with the cat. But the +children feared it would die in winter, as they had no peas +in those parts, nothing but grass. Sixty acres of “mowing +grass” and a run for sheep comprise the farm.</p> + +<p>While the Ordnance Survey was in Westmoreland, two +sappers lodged in the house for months; and the eldest son, +an intelligent lad, had much to tell concerning their operations. +What pains they took; how many times they toiled to the top +of Mickle Fell only to find that up there it was too windy for +their observations, and so forth. Sometimes a stranger came +and wanted a guide to High Cope Nick, and then he went +with his father. Two photographers had come the preceding +autumn, and took views of the Nick on pieces of paper with +a box that had a round glass in it; but the views wasn’t very +good ones.</p> + +<p>High Cope Nick, as its name indicates, is a deep notch or +chasm in the hills overlooking the low country of Westmoreland +about four miles from this Birkdale farm. “It’s nigh +hand as brant<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> as a wall,” said the boy; “you can hardly +stand on’t.” It is one of the scenes which I reserve for a +future holiday.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Steep.</p></div> + +<p>The woman could not hear of taking more than sixpence +for my dinner, and thought herself overpaid with that. The +two boys were going up the fell to look after sheep, so we +started together, crossed the beck on stepping-stones, followed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +by two dogs, and soon began the long ascent. There is no +path: you stride through the heather, through the tough bent, +across miry patches, and stony slopes, past swallow-holes +wherein streams of water disappear in heavy rains; and find +at times by the side of the beck a few yards of smooth sweet +turf. The beck is noisy in its freakish channel, yet pauses +here and there and fills a sober pool, wherein you may see fish, +and perchance a drowned sheep. I saw four on the way +upwards, and the sight of the swollen carcases made me defer +drinking till nearer the source. I could hardly believe the +lads’ word that fifteen hundred sheep were feeding on the hill, +so few did they appear scattered over the vast surface.</p> + +<p>“How many sheep do you consider fair stock to the acre?” +asked Sir John Sinclair during one of his visits to the hills.</p> + +<p>“Eh! mun, ye begin at wrang end,” was the answer. “Ye +should ax how many acres till a sheep.” Of such land as this +the North Riding contains four hundred thousand acres.</p> + +<p>Besides the sheep, added the youth, “there’s thirty breeding +galloways on the hill. There’s nothing pays better than +breeding galloways. You can sell the young ones a year or +year and a half old for eight pounds apiece, and there’s no +much fash wi’ ’em.”</p> + +<p>When the time came to part, I sat down and tried to give +the boys a peep at their home through my telescope. But in +vain; they could distinguish nothing, see nothing but a haze +of green or brown. On the other hand, they could discern a +sheep or some moving object at a great distance which I could +not discover at all with the glass. They turned aside to their +flock, and I onwards up the hill. The beck had diminished +to a rill, and presently I came to its source—a delicious spring +bubbling from a rock, and took a quickening draught.</p> + +<p>At length the acclivity becomes gentle, the horizon spreads +wider and wider, and we reach the cairn erected by the +sappers on the summit of Mickle Fell, 2580 feet above the +sea—the highest, as before remarked, of the Yorkshire mountains. +Glorious is the prospect! Hill and dale in seemingly +endless succession—there rolling away to the blue horizon, +here bounded by a height that hides all beyond. In the west +appears the great gathering of mountains which keep watch +over the Lake country, there Skiddaw, there Helvellyn, yonder +Langdale Pikes, and the Old Man of Coniston; summit after +summit, their outlines crossing and recrossing in picturesque<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +confusion. Conspicuous in the north Cross Fell—in which +spring the head-waters of Tees—heaves his brown back in +majestic sullenness some three hundred feet higher than the +shaggy brow we stand on. Hence you can trace the vale of Tees +for miles. Then gazing easterly, we catch far, far away the +Cleveland hills, and, following round the circle, the blue range +of the Hambletons, then Penyghent, Whernside, and Ingleborough, +with many others, bring us round once more to the +west. Again and again will your eye travel round the +glorious panorama.</p> + +<p>Mickle Fell is one of the great summits in the range +described by geologists as the Pennine chain—the backbone of +England. Its outline is characteristic of that of the county; +bold and abrupt to the west; sloping gradually down to +the east. Hence the walk up from High Force or Birkdale +calls for no arduous climbing, it is only tedious. From the +western extremity you look down into the vale of the Eden, +where the green meadows, the broad fields of grain, dotted +with trees and bordered with hedgerows, appear the more +beautiful from contrast with the brown tints of the surrounding +hills.</p> + +<p>Now for the descent. I scanned the great slope on the +south for a practicable route, and fixed beforehand on the +objects by which to direct my steps when down in the hollows—where +scant outlook is to be had. Lowest of all lies +what appears to be a light green meadow; beyond it rises +a Mickle Fell on a small scale: I will make my way to the +top of that, and there take a new departure. All between +is a wild expanse of rock and heather. A sober run soon +brought me to the edge of a beck, and keeping along its +margin, now on one side, now on the other, choosing the +firmest ground, I made good progress; and with better speed, +notwithstanding the windings, than through the tough close +heather. Every furlong the beck grows wider and fuller, +and here and there the banks curve to the form of an oval +basin smooth with short grass; favourite haunts for the sheep. +The silly creatures take to flight nimbly as goats at the appearance +of an intruder, and I lie down to enjoy the solitude. +The silence is oppressive—almost awful. Shut in already +by the huge hill-sides, I am still more hidden in this hollow. +The beck babbles; the fugitive sheep all unseen bleat +timidly; a curlew comes with its melancholy cry wheeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +round and round above my head; but the overwhelming +silence loses nothing of its force. At times a faint hollow +roar, as if an echo from the distant ocean, seems to fill all the +air for an instant, and die mysteriously away. It is a time to +commune with one’s own heart and be still: to feel how poor are +artificial pleasures compared to those which are common to +all—the simplest, which can be had for nothing—namely, sunshine, +air, and running water, and the fair broad earth to walk +upon.</p> + +<p>Onwards. The beck widens, and rushes into a broad stony +belt to join a stream hurrying down the vale from the west. +I crossed, and came presently to the supposed bright green +meadow. It was a swamp—a great sponge. To go round +it would be tedious: I kept straight on, and by striding from +one rushy hummock to another, though not without difficulty +in the middle, where the sponge was all but liquid, and the +rushes wide apart, I got across. Then the smaller hill began: +it was steep, and without a break in the heather, compelling +a toilsome climb. However, it induces wholesome exercise. +From the top I saw Stainmoor, and as I had anticipated, the +road which runs across it from Barnard Castle into Westmoreland. +I came down upon it about four miles from +Brough.</p> + +<p>It is a wild region. A line of tall posts is set up along +the way, as in an alpine pass, suggestive of winter snows +deep and dangerous. By-and-by we come to a declivity, and +there far below we see the vale of Eden, and descend towards +it, the views continually changing with the windings of the +road. Then a hamlet, with children playing on the green, +and geese grazing among the clumps of gorse, and trees, and +cultivation; and all the while the hills appear to grow more +and more mountainous as we descend. Then Brough comes +in sight—the little hard-featured Westmoreland town—whitewashed +walls, blue slate roofs, the church a good way off on an +eminence, and beyond that, on a grassy bluff, the ruins of a +castle partly screened by trees.</p> + +<p>I wanted rest and refreshment, and found both at the <i>Castle +Inn</i>. An hour later I strolled out to the ruin. The mount +on which it stands rises steeply from the Helbeck, a small +tributary of the Eden, and terminates precipitously towards +the west. The keep still rears itself proudly aloft, commanding +the shattered towers, the ancient gateway, the dismantled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +walls and broken stair, and the country for miles around. +Fallen masses lie partly buried in the earth, and here and there +above the rough stonework overhangs as if ready to follow. +While sauntering now within, now without, you can look +across the cultivated landscape, or to the town, and the great +slope of Helbeck Fell behind it; and you will perhaps deem +it a favourable spot to muse away the hour of sunset, when +the old pile is touched with golden light. Thick as the walls +are, Time and dilapidations have made them look picturesque. +One of the spoilers was William the Lion of Scotland, who +finding here a Norman fortress in 1174, took it, along with +other Westmoreland strongholds; and was taken himself in +the course of the same year at Alnwick. The Rey Cross on +Stainmoor—still a monumental site—marked the southern +limit of the Scottish principality of Cumberland; hence, the +hungry reivers north of Tweed had always an excuse for +crossing over to beat the bounds after their manner. Twice +afterwards was Brough Castle repaired, and burnt to a +shell. The second restoration was carried out in 1659 by the +Lady Anne Clifford, Countess Dowager of Pembroke, who +recorded the fact on a stone over the entrance, enumerating +all her titles, among which were “High Sheriffess by inheritance +of the county of Westmoreland, and Lady of the Honour of +Skipton,” and ending with a text of Scripture—Isaiah lviii, +12. After the last fire, whosoever would pillaged the castle; the +stone bearing the Countess’s inscription was taken down, and +used in the repair of Brough mill, and the ruins became a +quarry, out of which were built sheds and cottages. The large +masses of masonry, which now lie embedded in the earth, fell +in 1792.</p> + +<p>According to antiquaries the castle occupies the centre of +what had been a Roman station; for Brough was the ancient +Verterę, where coins of the emperors have been dug up, and +the highway along which the legions marched to and from +Carlisle, or the Picts’ Wall, is still traceable, known in the +neighbourhood as the Maiden Way.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely evening. The sun went down in splendour +behind the Cumbrian hills, and when the radiance faded from +the topmost summits, and gave place to dusky twilight, I went +back to mine inn.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Return into Yorkshire—The Old Pedlar—Oh! for the Olden Time—“The +Bible, indeed!”—An Emissary—Wild Boar Fell—Shunnor Fell—Mallerstang—The +Eden—A Mountain Walk—Tan Hill—Brown Landscape—A +School wanted—Swaledale—From Ling to Grass—A Talk with Lead +Miners—Stonesdale—Work for a Missionary—Thwaite—A Jolly Landlord—A +Ruined Town—The School at Muker—A Nickname—Buttertubs Pass—View +into Wensleydale—Lord Wharncliffe’s Lodge—Simonstone—Hardraw +Scar—Geological Phenomenon—A Frozen Cone—Hawes.</p> + +<p>My next morning’s route took me back into Yorkshire by a +way which, leaving the road to Kirkby Stephen on the right, +approaches Nine Standards, High Seat, and the other great +summits which guard the head of Swaledale. The sight of +these hills, and the gradual succession of cultivation and woods +by untilled slopes patched with gorse and bracken, impart an +interest to the walk. A modern battlemented edifice—Hougill +Castle—appears on the left, the residence of a retired +physician, and beyond it the wild region of Stainmoor Forest; +and here even upon its outskirts we can see how appropriate +is the name Stonymoor.</p> + +<p>When near the hills I overtook an old pedlar, and slackened +my pace to have a talk with him. At times I had fancied my +knapsack, of less than ten pounds’ weight, a little too heavy; +but he, though aged sixty, carried a pack of forty pounds, +and when in his prime could have borne twice as much. He +took matters easily now; walked slowly and rested often. +From talking about schools, he began to contrast the present +time with the past. Things were not half so good now as in +the olden time, when monasteries all over the land took proper +care alike of religion and the poor. Where was there anything +like religion now-a-days, except among the Roman +Catholics? Without them England would be in a miserable +plight; but he took comfort, believing from certain signs that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +the old days would return—that England would once more +acknowledge the supremacy of the Pope.</p> + +<p>“Never,” I replied; “that’s not possible in a country +where the Bible circulates freely; and where all who will +may read it.”</p> + +<p>“The Bible!” he answered sneeringly—“the Bible! +What’s the Bible? It’s a very dangerous and improper book +for the people to read. What should they know about it? +The Church is the best judge. The Bible, indeed!”</p> + +<p>Such talk surprised me. I had heard that the Papists +employ emissaries of all degrees in the endeavour to propagate +their doctrines; but never met with one before who +spoke out his notions so unreservedly; and I could have +imagined myself thrown back some five hundred years, and +the old fellow to be the spokesman in the Somersetshire +ballad:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Chill tell thee what good vellowe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the vriers went hence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bushell of the best wheate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was zold for vourteen pence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vorty egges a penny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That were both good and newe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this che zay my zelf have zeene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet ich am no Jewe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Ich care not for the bible booke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Tis too big to be true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our blessed Ladyes psalter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zhall for my money goe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zuch pretty prayers, as therein bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bible cannot zhowe.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I began to defend the rights of conscience, when, as we +came to the foot of the first great hill, the old packman advised +me to reconsider my errors, bade me good day, and +turned into a cottage; perhaps to sell calico; perhaps to sow +tares for the keeper of the keys at Rome.</p> + +<p>I made a cut-off, and came upon the road half way up the +hill, leaving sultriness for a breezy elevation. Soon wide +prospects opened all around me: vast green undulations, +dotted with sheep and geese, swelling up into the distant hills +and moorlands. That great group of heights on the right—Wild +Boar Fell and Shunnor Fell—wherein Nature displays +but few of her smiles, is the parent of not a few of Yorkshire’s +dales, becks, and waterfalls. In those untrodden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +solitudes rise Swale and Ure; there lurks the spring from +which Eden bursts to flow through gloomy Mallerstang, and +transfer its allegiance, as we have seen, to other counties, +and the fairest of Cumbrian vales. Our topographical bard, +makes the forest of the darksome glen thus address the infant +stream:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“O, my bright lovely brook whose name doth bear the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of God’s first garden-plot, th’ imparadised ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein he placed man, from whence by sin he fell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, little blessed brook, how doth my bosom swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love I bear to thee, the day cannot suffice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Mallerstang to gaze upon thy beauteous eyes.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Talk of royal tapestries, what carpet can compare with the +springy turf that borders the road whereon you walk with +lightsome step, happier than a king, and having countless +jewels to admire in the golden buds of the gorse? It is a +delightful mountain walk, now rising, now falling, but always +increasing the elevation; so cool and breezy in comparison +with the sultry temperature of the road we left below. And +the grouping of the summits around the broad expanse changes +slowly as you advance, and between the shades of yellow and +green, brown and purple, the darker shadows denote the +courses of the dales. Wayfarers are few; perhaps a boy +trudges past pulling a donkey, which drags a sledge laden +with turf or hay; or a pedlar with crockery; but for miles +your only living companions are sheep and geese.</p> + +<p>With increasing height we have less of grass and more of +ling, and at ten miles from Brough we come to the public-house +on Tan Hill, situate in the midst of a desolate brown +upland, in which appear the upreared timbers of coalpits, +some abandoned, others in work. The house shows signs of +isolation in a want of cleanliness and order; but you can get +oaten bread, cheese, and passable beer, and have a talk with +the pitmen, and the rustics who come in for a drink ere starting +homewards with cartloads of coal. Seeing the numerous +family round the hostess, I inquired about their school; on +which one of the black fellows—a rough diamond—took up +the question. There had been a dame school in one of the +adjacent cottages, but the old ’oman gave it up, and now the +bairns was runnin’ wild. ’Twasn’t right of Mr. ——, the +proprietor of the mines, to take away 5000<i>l.</i> a year, and not +give back some on’t for a school. It made a man’s heart sore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +to see bairns wantin’ schoolin’ and no yabble to get it. +’Twasn’t right, that ’t wasn’t.</p> + +<p>Apparently an honest miner lived beneath that coaly incrustation, +possessed of good sense and sensibility. I quite +agreed with him, and recommended him to talk about a school +whenever he could get a listener.</p> + +<p>About a mile from the public-house the road leaves the +brown region, and descends rapidly to the Swale, crossing +where the stream swells in rainy weather to a noisy cataract, +and Swaledale stretches away before us, a grand mountain +valley, yet somewhat severe in aspect. Gentle, as its name +imports, appears misapplied to a rushing stream; but a long +course lies before it: past Grinton, past picturesque Richmond, +ancient ruins, towers of barons, and cloisters of monks, and to +the broad Vale of York, where, calmed by old experience, it +flows at Myton gently into the Ure. And not only gentle but +sacred, for Swale has been called the Jordan of Yorkshire, +because of the multitudinous baptism of the earliest converts +therein by Paulinus; “above ten thousand men, besides women +and children, in one day,” according to the chronicler, who, +perhaps to disarm incredulity, explains that the apostle having +baptized ten, sent them into the stream to baptize a hundred, +and so multiplied his assistants as the rite proceeded, while he +prayed on the shore.</p> + +<p>By-and-by we meet signs of inhabitants—a house or two; +a few fields of mowing grass; the heaps of refuse at lead-mines, +and our walk derives a pleasurable interest from the +hourly change, the bleak, barren, and lonely, for the sheltered, +the cultivated, and inhabited. More and more are the hill-sides +wavy with grass as we descend, field after field shut in +by stone fences, and the dalesmen are beginning to mow. The +time of the hay harvest has come for the mountains: a month +later than in the south. How beautifully the bright green +contrasts with the dark purple distances, and softens the +features of the dale! And as I looked from side to side, or +around to the rear, as the fallen road made the hills seem +higher, and saw how much Swaledale has in common with a +valley of the Alps, I felt that here the desire for mountain +scenery might be satisfied; and I found myself watching for +the first field of grain with as much interest as I had watched +for vines in the Val Mont Joie.</p> + +<p>I overtook a party of lead-miners, boys and men, going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +home from work. The boys could read; but there was only +one of them who really liked reading. “He’s a good quiet +boy,” said the father; “likes to set down wi’ his book o’ +evenin’s; t’others says they is tired. He can draw a bit, too; +and I’d like well to send’n to a good skule; but I only gets +two pounds a month, and that’s poor addlings.” And one of +the young men wished that digging for lead didn’t make +him so tired, for readin’ made him fall asleep, and yet he +wanted to get on with his books. “It don’t seem right,” he +added, “that a lad should want a bit o’ larnin’ and not get it.” +I said a few words about the value of habit, the steady growth +of knowledge from only half an hour’s application continued +day after day at the same hour, and the many ways of learning +offered to us apart from books. The whole party listened +with interest, and expressed their thanks when we parted at +the hamlet of Stonesdale. The lad thought he’d try. He’d +emigrate, only his wage was too low for saving.</p> + +<p>If I had the missionary spirit, I would not go to Patagonia +or Feejee; but to the out-of-the-way places in my own +country, and labour trustfully there to remove some of the +evils of ignorance. Any man who should set himself to +such a work, thinking not more highly of himself than he ought +to think, would be welcomed in every cottage, and become +assured after a while, that many an eye would watch gladly +for his coming. One of my first tasks should be to go about +and pull up that old pedlar’s mischievous tares, and plant instead +thereof a practical knowledge of common things.</p> + +<p>With unlimited supplies of stone to draw on, the houses +of Stonesdale are as rough and solid as if built by Druids. +Every door has a porch for protection against storms, and +round each window a stripe of whitewash betrays the +rudimentary ornamental art of the inmates. A little farther, +and coming to the village of Thwaite, I called at the <i>Joiners’ +Arms</i> for a glass of ale. The landlord, mistaking my voice +for that of one of his friends, came hastily into the kitchen +with a jovial greeting, and apparently my being a stranger +made no difference, for he sat down and began a hearty talk +about business; about his boyhood, when he used to run +after the hounds; about his children, and the school down at +Muker. I laughed when he mentioned running after the +hounds, for, as I saw him, he was, as Southey has it, “broad +in the rear and abdominous in the van.” His agility had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +been a fact, nevertheless. I praised the beer. That did not +surprise him; he brewed it himself, out of malt and hops, +too; not out of doctor’s stuff. I asked a question about +Hawes, to which I was going over the Pass. “Oh!” said +he, “it’s terribly fallen off for drink. I used to keep the inn +there. A man could get a living in that day by selling drink; +but now the Methodists and teetotallers have got in among ’em, +and the place is quite ruined.” Manifestly my heavy friend +looked at the question from the licensed victualler’s point of +view. Concerning the school down at Muker, however he +was not uncharitable. ’Twas a good school—a church school. +There was a chapel of ease there to Grinton. Mr. Lowther did +the preaching and looked after the school, and the people liked +his teaching and liked his preaching. He brought the children +on well, gals as well as the boys; that he did.</p> + +<p>If, reader, you should go to Thwaite, and wish to have a +chat with a jolly landlord, enquire for Matty John Ned, the +name by which he is known in all the country round; +remembering what happened in my experience. For when, +late in the evening, I intimated to mine host of the <i>White +Hart</i> at Hawes that Mr. Edward Alderson had recommended +me to his house, he replied, doubtfully, “Alderson—Alderson +at Thwaite do you say?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Alderson at Thwaite: a big man.”</p> + +<p>“O-o-o-o-h! You mean Matty John Ned.”</p> + +<p>Below Thwaite the dale expands; trees appear; you see +Muker about three miles distant, the chief village of Upper +Swaledale: still nothing but grass in the fields; and the +same all the way to Reeth, ten miles from Muker. There +you would begin to see grain. Not far from Thwaite I turned +up a very steep, stony road on the right, which leads over the +Buttertubs Pass into Wensleydale, and soon could look down +on the village, and miles of Swaledale, and the hills beyond. +Among those hills are glens and ravines, and many a spot +that it would be a pleasure to explore, to say nothing of the +lead mines, and the ‘gliffs’ of primitive manners; and any +one who could be content with homely head-quarters at +Muker or Thwaite might enjoy a roaming holiday for a week +or two. And for lovers of the angle there are trout in the +brooks.</p> + +<p>The ascent is long as well as steep, and rough withal; but +the views repay you every time you pause with more and more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +of the features of a mountain pass. There are about it touches +of savage grandeur, and the effect of these was heightened at +the time I crossed by a deep dark cloud-shadow which overspread +a league of the hills, and left the lower range of the +dale in full sunshine. For a while the road skirts the edge of +a deep glen on the left; it becomes deeper and deeper; there +are little fields, and haymakers at work at the bottom; then +the slopes change; the heather creeps down; the beck frets +and foams, sending its noise upward to your ear; screes and +scars intermingle their rugged forms and variations of colour; +a waterfall rushes down the crags; and when these have passed +before your eyes you find yourself on a desolate summit.</p> + +<p>More desolate than any of the heights I had yet passed +over. A broad table-land of turf bogs, coffee-coloured pools, +stacks of turf, patches of rushes, and great boulders peeping +everywhere out from among the hardy heather. The dark +cloud still hung aloft, and the wind blew chill, making me +quicken my pace, and feel the more pleasure when, after +about half an hour, the view opened into Wensleydale. A +valley appears on the right, with colts and cattle grazing on +the bright green slopes; the road descends; stone abounds; +fences, large gate-posts, all are made of stone; the road gets +rougher; and by-and-by we come to Shaw, a little village +under Stag Fell, by the side of a wooded glen, from which +there rises the music of a mountain brook. On the left you +see Lord Wharncliffe’s lodge, to which he resorts with his +friends on the 12th of August, for the hills around are inhabited +by grouse. Yonder the walls and windows of Hawes +reflect the setting sun, and we see more of Wensleydale, where +trees are numerous in the landscape.</p> + +<p>Then another little village, Simonstone, where, passing +through the public-house by the bridge, we find a path that +leads us into a rocky chasm, about ninety feet deep and twice +as much in width, the limestone cliffs hung with trees and +bushes, here and there a bare crag jutting out, or lying +shattered beneath; while, cutting the grassy floor in two, a +lively beck ripples its way along. A bend conceals its source; +but we saunter on, and there at the end of the ravine, where +the cliffs advance and meet, we see the beck making one leap +from top to bottom—and that is Hardraw Scar. The rock +overhangs above, hence the water shoots clear of the cliff, and +preserves an irregular columnar form, widening at the base<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +with bubbles and spray. You can go behind it, and look +through the falling current against the light, and note how it +becomes fuller and fuller of lines of beads as it descends, until +they all commingle in the flurry below. Dr. Tyndall might +make an observatory of this cool nook, the next time he investigates +the cause of the noise in falling water, with the +advantage of looking forth on the romantic and pleasing scene +beyond. The geologist finds in the ravine a suggestive illustration +on a small scale of what Niagara with thunderous +plunge has been accomplishing through countless ages—namely, +wearing away the solid rock, inch by inch, foot by +foot, until in the one instance a river chasm is formed miles in +length, and here, in the other, a pretty glen a little more than +a furlong deep.</p> + +<p>At the time I saw it, the quantity of water was probably +not more than would fill a twelve-inch tube; but after heavy +rains the upper stream forms a broad horseshoe fall as it +rushes over the curving cliff. In the severe frost of 1740, +when the Londoners were holding a fair on the Thames, Hardraw +Scar was frozen, and, fed continually from the source +above, it became at last a cone of ice, ninety feet in height, +and as much in circumference at the base: a phenomenon that +was long remembered by the gossips of the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>Hawes cheats the eye, and seems near, when by the road +it is far off. On the way thither from Simonstone we cross +the Ure, the river of Wensleydale, a broad and shallow, yet +lively stream, infusing a charm into the landscape, which I +saw at the right moment, when the evening shadows were +creeping from the meadows up the hill-sides, and the water +flashed with gold and crimson ripples. I lingered on the +bridge till the last gleam vanished.</p> + +<p>So grim and savage are the fells at the head of Wensleydale, +that the country folk in times past regarded them with +superstitious dread, and called the little brooks which there +foster the infancy of Ure, ‘hell-becks’—a name of dread. +But both river and dale change their character as they descend, +the one flowing through scenes of exquisite beauty ere, +united with the Swale, it forms the Ouse; and the dale +broadens into the richest and most beautiful of all the North +Riding.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Bainbridge—“If you had wanted a wife”—A Ramble—Millgill Force—Whitfell +Force—A Lovely Dell—The Roman Camp—The Forest Horn, and the +old Hornblower—Haymaking—A Cockney Raker—Wensleydale Scythemen—A +Friend indeed—Addleborough—Curlews and Grouse—The First Teapot—Nasty +Greens—The Prospect—Askrigg—Bolton Castle—Penhill—Middleham—Miles +Coverdale’s Birthplace—Jervaux Abbey—Moses’s Principia—Nappa +Hall—The Metcalfes—The Knight and the King—The Springs—Spoliation +of the Druids—The great Cromlech—Legend—An ancient Village—Simmer +Water—An advice for Anglers—More Legends—Counterside—Money-Grubbers—Widdale—Newby +Head.</p> + +<p>Four miles from Hawes down the dale is the pleasant +village of Bainbridge, where the rustic houses, with flower-plots +in front and roses climbing on the walls, and yellow +stonecrop patching the roofs and fences, look out upon a few +noble sycamores, and a green—a real village green. The +hills on each side are lofty and picturesque; at one end, on +a flat eminence, remains the site of a Roman camp; the +Bain, a small stream coming from a lake some three miles +distant, runs through the place in a bed of solid stone, to enter +Ure a little below, and all around encroaching here and there +up the hill-sides spread meadows of luxuriant grass. The +simple rural beauty will gladden your eye, and—as with every +stranger who comes to Bainbridge—win your admiration.</p> + +<p>Wensleydale enjoys a reputation for cheese and fat pastures +and wealth above the neighbouring dales, and appears to be +fully aware of its superiority. The folk, moreover, consider +themselves refined, advanced in civilization in comparison +with the dwellers on the other side of Buttertubs: those +whom we talked with yesterday. “Mr. White, if you had +wanted a wife, do you think you could choose one out of +Swaledale?” was the question put to me by a strapping village +lass before I had been three hours in Bainbridge.</p> + +<p>Fortune favoured me. I found here some worthy Quaker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +friends of mine, who had journeyed from Oxfordshire to spend +the holidays under the paternal rooftree. It was almost as if +I had arrived at home myself; and although I had breakfasted +at Hawes, they took it for granted that I would eat a lunch to +keep up my strength till dinner-time. They settled a plan +which would keep me till the morrow exploring the neighbourhood—a +detention by no means to be repined at—and +introduced me to a studious young dalesman, the village +author, who knew every nook of the hills, every torrent and +noteworthy site, and all the legends therewith associated for +miles round, and who was to be my guide and companion.</p> + +<p>Away we rambled across the Ure to a small wooded hollow +at the foot of Whitfell, in the hills which shut out Swaledale. +It conceals a Hardraw Scar in miniature, shooting from an +overhanging ledge of dark shale, in which are numerous fossil +shells. From this we followed the hill upwards to Millgill +Force, a higher fall, on another beck, overshadowed by firs +and the mountain elm, and which Nature keeps as a shrine +approachable only by the active foot and willing heart. Now +you must struggle through the tall grass and tangle on the +precipitous sides high among the trees; now stride and +scramble over the rocky masses in the bed of the stream. To +sit and watch the fall deep under the canopy of leaves, catching +glimpses of sunshine and of blue sky above, and to enjoy the +delicious coolness, was the luxury of enjoyment. I could +have sat for hours. Wordsworth came here during one of his +excursions in Yorkshire; and if you wish to know what Millgill +Force is, as painted by the pen, even the minute touches, +read his description.</p> + +<p>But there is yet another—Whitfell Force—higher up, +rarely visited, for the hill is steep and the way toilsome. My +guide, however, was not less willing to lead than I to follow, +and soon we were scrambling through the deepest ravine of +all, where the sides, for the most part, afford no footing, not +even for a goat, but rise in perpendicular walls, or lean over +at the top. Here again the lavish foliage is backed by the +dark stiff spines of firs, and every inch of ground, every +cranny, all but the impenetrable face of the rock, is hidden +by rank grasses, trailing weeds, climbers, periwinkle, woodbine, +and ferns, among which the hart’s-tongue throws out +its large drooping clusters of graceful fronds. For greater +part of the way we had to keep the bed of the stream; now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +squeezing ourselves between mighty lumps of limestone that +nearly barred the passage, so that the stream itself could not +get through without a struggle; now climbing painfully over +where the crevices were too narrow; now zigzagging from +side to side wherever the big stones afforded foothold, not +without slips and splashes that multiplied our excitement; +now pausing on a broad slab to admire the narrowing chasm +and all its exquisite greenery. My companion pointed out a +crystal pool in which he sometimes bathed—a bath that Naiads +themselves might envy. In this way we came at length to a +semicircular opening, and saw the fall tumbling from crag to +crag for sixty feet, and dispersing itself into a confused shower +before it fell into the channel beneath. We both sat for a +while without speaking, listening to the cool splash and busy +gurgle as the water began its race down the hill; and, for my +part, I felt that fatigue and labour were well repaid by the +sight of so lovely a dell.</p> + +<p>Then by other paths we returned to the village, and +mounted to the flat-topped grassy mound, which Professor +Phillips says, is an ancient gravel heap deposited by the action +of water. The Romans, taking advantage of the site, levelled +it, and established thereon a small camp. A statue and +inscription and some other relics have been found, showing +that in this remote spot, miles distant from their main highway, +the conquerors had a military station, finding it no doubt +troublesome to keep the dalesmen of their day in order.</p> + +<p>Then we looked at a very, very old millstone, which now +stands on its edge at the corner of a cottage doing motionless +duty as one end of a kennel. The dog creeps in through the +hole in the middle. There it stands, an unsatisfactory antique, +for no one knows anything about it. Of two others, however, +which we next saw, something is known—the old horn and +the old hornblower. Bainbridge was chief place of the forest +of Wensleydale—of which the Duke of Leeds is now Her +Majesty’s Ranger, and at the same time hereditary Constable +and Lord of Middleham Castle—and from time immemorial +the “forest horn” has been blown on the green, every night +at ten o’clock, from the end of September to Shrovetide, and +it is blown still; for are not ancient customs all but immortal +in our country? The stiff-jointed graybeard hearing that a +curious stranger wished to look at the instrument, brought it +forth. It is literally a horn—a large ox-horn, lengthened by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +a hoop of now rusty tin, to make up for the pieces which +some time or other had been broken from its mouth. He +himself had put on the tin years ago. Of course I was +invited to blow a blast, and of course failed. My companion, +however, could make it speak lustily; but the old man did +best, and blew a long-sustained note, which proved him to be +as good an economist of breath as a pearl-diver. For years +had he thus blown, and his father before him. I could not +help thinking of the olden time ere roads were made, and of +belated travellers saved from perishing in the snow by that +nightly signal.</p> + +<p>Now it was tea-time, and we had tea served after the +Wensleydale manner—plain cakes and currant cakes, cakes +hot and cold, and butter and cheese at discretion, with liberty +to call for anything else that you like; and the more you eat +and drink, the more will you rise in the esteem of your hospitable +entertainers. And after that I went down to the hay-field, +for it was a large field, and the farmer longed to get the +hay all housed before sunset. They don’t carry hay in the +dales, they ‘lead’ it; and the two boys from Oxfordshire +were not a little proud in having the ‘leading’ assigned +to them, seeing that they had nothing to do but ride the horse +that drew the hay-sledge to and fro between the barn and the +‘wind-rows.’ Another difference is, that forks are not used +except to pitch the hay from the sledge to the barn, all the +rest—turning the swath, making into cocks—is done with the +rake and by hand. So I took a rake, and beginning at one +side of the field at the same time with an old hand, worked +away so stoutly, that he had much ado to keep ahead of me. +And so it went on, all hands working as if there were no such +thing as weariness, load after load slipping away to the barn; +and I unconsciously growing meritorious. “You’re the first +cockney I ever saw,” said the stalwart farmer, “that knew +how to handle a rake.” Had I stayed with him a week, he +would have discovered other of my capabilities equally praiseworthy. +We should have accomplished the task and cleared +the field; but a black cloud rose in the west, and soon sent +down a heavy shower, and compelled us to huddle up the +remaining rows into cocks, and leave them till morning.</p> + +<p>Must I confess it? Haymaking with the blithesome lasses +in Ulrichsthal is a much more sprightly pastime than haymaking +with the Quakers in Wensleydale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>The hay harvest is an exciting time in the dales, for grass +is the only crop, and the cattle have to be fed all through the +long months of winter, and sometimes far into the backward +spring. Hence every thing depends on the hay being carried +and housed in good condition; and many an anxious look is +cast at passing clouds and distant hill-tops to learn the signs +of the weather. The dalesmen are expert in the use of the +scythe; and numbers of them, after their own haymaking is +over, migrate into Holderness and other grain-growing districts, +and mow down the crops, even the wheat-fields, with remarkable +celerity.</p> + +<p>Many a hand had I to shake the next morning, when the +moment came to say farewell. The student would not let me +depart alone; he would go with me a few miles, and show me +remarkable things by the way; and what was more, he would +carry my knapsack. “You will have quite enough of it,” he +said, “before your travel is over.” So I had to let him. We +soon diverged from the road and began the ascent of Addleborough +(<i>Edel-burg</i>,) that noble hill which rises on the south-east +of Bainbridge, rearing its rocky crest to a height of more +than fifteen hundred feet. We took the shortest way, climbing +the tall fences, struggling through heather, striding across +bogs, and disturbing the birds. The curlews began their +circling flights above our heads, and the grouse took wing with +sudden flutter, eight or ten brace starting from a little patch +that, to my inexperience, seemed too small to hide a couple +of chickens.</p> + +<p>My companion talked as only a dalesman can talk—as one +whose whole heart is in his subject. None but a dalesman, +he said, could read Wordsworth aright, or really love him. +He could talk of the history of the dale, and of the ways of +the people. His great-grandmother was the first in Bainbridge +who ever had a teapot. When tea first began to be heard of +in those parts, a bagman called on an old farmer, and fascinated +him so by praising the virtues of the new leaf from China, +that with his wife’s approval he ordered a ‘stean’ to begin +with. The trader ventured to suggest that a stone of tea +would be a costly experiment, and sent them only a pound. +Some months afterwards he called again for “money and +orders,” and asked how the worthy couple liked the tea. +“Them was the nastiest greens we ever tasted,” was the +answer. “The parcel cam’ one morning afore dinner, so the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +missus tied ’em up in a cloth and put ’em into t’ pot along wi’ +t’ bacon. But we couldn’t abear ’em when they was done; +and as for t’ broth, we couldn’t sup a drop on ’t.”</p> + +<p>Having climbed the last steep slope, we sat down in a +recess of the rocky frontlet which the hill bears proudly on its +brow, and there, sheltered from the furious wind, surveyed +the scene below. We could see across the opposite fells, in +places, to the summits on the farther side of Swaledale, and +down Wensleydale for miles, and away to the blue range of +the Hambleton hills that look into the Vale of York. Bainbridge +appears as quiet as if it were taking holiday; yonder, +Askrigg twinkles under a thin white veil of smoke; and farther, +Bolton Castle—once the prison of the unhappy Queen +of Scots—shows its four square towers above a rising wood: +all basking in the glorious sunshine. Yet shadows are not +wanting. Many a dark shade marks where a glen breaks the +hill-sides: some resemble crooked furrows, trimmed here and +there with a dull green fringe, the tree-tops peeping out, and +by these signs the beck we explored yesterday may be discerned +on the opposite fell. Wherever that little patch of +wood appears, there we may be sure a waterfall, though all +unseen, is joining in the great universal chorus. Ure winds +down the dale in many a shining curve, of which but one is +visible between bright green meadow slopes, and belts, and +clumps of wood, that broaden with the distance; and all the +landscape is studded with the little white squares—the homes +of the dalesmen.</p> + +<p>Four miles below the stream rushes over great steps of +limestone which traverse its bed at Aysgarth Force, and flows +onwards past Penhill, the mountain of Wensleydale, overtopping +Addleborough by three hundred feet; past Witton +Fell and its spring, still known as Diana’s Bath; past Leyburn, +and its high natural terrace—the Shawl, where the ‘Queen’s +gap’ reminds the visitor once more of Mary riding through +surrounded by a watchful escort; past Middleham, where the +lordly castle of the King-maker now stands in hopeless ruin, +recalling the names of Anne of Warwick, Isabella of +Clarence, Edward IV., and his escape from the haughty baron’s +snare; of Richard of Gloucester, and others who figure in +our national history; past Coverdale, the birthplace of that +Miles Coverdale whose translation of the Bible will keep his +memory green through many a generation, and the site of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +Coverham Abbey, of which but a few arches now remain. +It was built in 1214 for the Premonstratensians, or White +Canons, who never wore linen. Where the Cover falls into +the Ure, spreads the meadow Ulshaw, the place from which +Oswin dismissed his army in 651. Tradition preserves the +memory of Hugh de Moreville’s seat, though not of the exact +site, and thus associates the neighbourhood with one of the +slayers of Becket. And at East Witton, beyond Coverham, +are the ruins of the Cistercian Abbey of Jervaux—Jarvis +Abbey, as the country folk call it—a relic dating from 1156. +Plunderers and the weather had their own way with it until +1805, when the Earl of Aylesbury, to whom the estate +belongs, inspired by his steward’s discovery of a tesselated +pavement, stayed the progress of dilapidation, and had the +concealing heaps of grass-grown rubbish dug away. Old +Jenkins, who died in 1670, remembered Jervaux as it stood +in its prime: he had shared the dole given by the monks to +poor wayfarers. He remembered, too, the mustering of the +dalesmen under the banner of the good Lord Scroop of Bolton +for the battle of Flodden, when</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“With him did wend all Wensleydale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Morton unto Morsdale moor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All they that dwell by the banks of Swale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With him were bent in harness stour.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At Spennithorne, a village over against Coverham, were +born John Hutchinson, the opponent of Newton, and Hatfield +the crazy, who fired at George III. The philosopher—who +was a yeoman’s son—made some stir in his day by publishing +<i>Moses’s Principia</i>, in opposition to Sir Isaac’s, and by his +collection of fossils, out of which he contrived arguments +against geologists. This collection was bequeathed to Dr. +Woodward, and eventually became part of the museum in the +University of Cambridge.</p> + +<p>Looking across the dale, somewhat to the right of Bainbridge, +we see Nappa Hall, long the seat of the Metcalfes. +In Queen Mary’s time, Sir Christopher Metcalfe was sheriff, +and he met the judges at York at the head of three hundred +horsemen, all dressed alike, and all of his own name and +family. The name is still a common one in the North Riding, +as you will soon discover on the front of public-houses, over +the door at toll-bars, and on the sides of carts and wagons. +The present Lord Metcalfe had a Guisborough man for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +father. A Metcalfe, born at Coverhead, is said to have made +Napoleon’s coffin at St. Helena. One of the fighting men +who distinguished themselves at Agincourt was a Metcalfe. +The Queen of Scots’ bedstead is still preserved at Nappa. +Raleigh once visited the Hall, and brought with him—so the +story goes—the first crayfish ever seen in the dale. Another +visitor was that cruel pedant, Royal Jamie, who scrupled not +to cut off Raleigh’s head—a far better one than his own—and +concerning him we are told that he rode across the Ure on the +back of one of the serving-men. Perhaps the poor serving-man +felt proud all his life after.</p> + +<p>If to dream about the Past by the side of a spring be one +of your pleasures, you may enjoy it here in Wensleydale with +many a change of scene. Besides Diana’s Bath, already mentioned, +St. Simon’s Spring still bubbles up at Coverham, St. +Alkelda’s at Middleham, and the Fairies’ Well at Hornby. +To this last an old iron cup was chained, which a late local +antiquary fondly thought might be one of those which King +Edwin ordered to be fastened to running springs throughout +his territories.</p> + +<p>Celt and Northman have left their traces. The grandmothers +of the children who now play in the village could +remember the Beltane bonfires, and the wild dances around +them. The Danes peopled the gloomy savage parts of the +glen with their imaginary black alfs. An old couplet runs:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Druid, Roman, Scandinavia<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stone Raise, on Addleboro’.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So we sat and talked, and afterwards scrambled up the +rocks to the summit. Here is, or rather was, a Druid circle of +flat stones: but my companion screamed with vexation on +discovering that three or four of the largest stones had been +taken away, and were nowhere to be seen. The removal +must have been recent, for the places where they lay were +sharply defined in the grass, and the maze of roots which had +been covered for ages was still dense and blanched. And so an +ancient monument must be destroyed either out of wanton +mischief, or to be broken up for the repair of a fence! Whoever +were the perpetrators, I say,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Oh, be their tombs as lead to lead!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We walked across the top to Stain-Ray, or Stone Raise, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +great cromlech or cairn 360 feet in circumference. You would +perhaps regard it as nothing more than a huge irregular mound +of lumps of gritstone bleached by the weather, with ferns +and moss growing in the interstices, but within there are to +be seen the remains of three cysts, of which only one retains +a definite form. It is said that a skeleton was discovered +therein. Tradition tells of a giant who once travelling with +a chest of gold on his back from Skipton Castle to Pendragon, +felt weary while crossing Addleborough, and let his burden +slip, but recovering himself, he cried,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Spite of either God or man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Pendragon castle thou shalt gang.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>when it fell from his shoulders, sank into the earth, and the +stones rose over it. There the chest remained, and still remains, +only to be recovered by the fortunate mortal to whom +the fairy may appear in the form of a hen or an ape. He has +then but to stretch forth his arm, seize the chest, and drag it +out, in silence if he can, at all events without swearing, or he +will fail, as did that unfortunate wight, who, uttering an oath +in the moment of success, lost his hold of the treasure, and +saw the fairy no more as long as he lived.</p> + +<p>We descended into the hollow between Addleborough and +Stake Fell, crossing on the way the natural terrace that runs +along the southern and western sides of the hill, to look at a +cluster of heaps of stone, and low, irregular walls or fences, +the plan of which appears to show a series of enclosures +opening one into the other. My friend had long made up his +mind that these were the remains of an ancient British village. +For my part, I could not believe that a village old as the +Roman conquest would leave vestiges of such magnitude after +the lapse of nearly two thousand years; whereupon, arguments, +and learned ones, were adduced, until I half admitted +the origin assigned. But a few days later I saw an enclosure +in Wharfedale identical in form with any one of these, used +as a sheepfold, and all my doubts came back with renewed +force. In the ordnance maps, the description is “ancient +enclosures;” and, to give an off-hand opinion, it appears to +me probable that this outlying hollow may have been chosen +as a safe place for the flocks in the troublous days of old.</p> + +<p>Stake Fell is 1843 feet in height, rising proudly on our left. +Beneath us, in the valley Ray or Roedale, a branch of Wens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>leydale, +spreads Simmer Water, a lake of one hundred and +five acres. Shut in by hills, and sprinkled with wood around +its margin, it beautifies and enlivens the landscape. It +abounds in trout, moreover, and bream and grayling, and any +one who chooses may fish therein, as well as in the Ure, all +the way down to Bainbridge, and farther. The river trout are +considered far superior to those of the lake. We made haste +down, after a pause to observe the view, for dinner awaited +us in a pleasant villa overlooking the bright rippling expanse.</p> + +<p>When we started anew, some two hours later, our hospitable +entertainer would accompany us. We walked round +the foot of the lake, and saw on the margin, near the break +where the Bain flows out, two big stones which have lain in +their present position ever since the devil and a giant pelted +one another from hill to hill across the water. To corroborate +the legend, there yet remain on the stones the marks—and +prodigious ones they are—of the Evil One’s hands. To +me the marks appeared more like the claws of an enormous +bird, compared with which Dr. Mantell’s <i>Dinornis</i> would be +but a chicken.</p> + +<p>Long, long ago, while the Apostles still walked the earth, a +poor old man wandered into Raydale, where a large city then +stood, and besought alms from house to house. Every door +was shut against him, save one, an humble cot without the +city wall, where the inmates bade him welcome, and set oaten +bread and milk cheese before him, and prepared him a pallet +whereon to sleep. On the morrow the old man pronounced a +blessing on the house and departed; but as he went forth, he +turned, and looking on the city, thus spake:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Semer Water rise, Semer Water sink,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And swallow all the town<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Save this little house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where they gave me meat and drink.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Whereupon followed the roar of an earthquake, and the rush +of water; the city sank down and a broad lake rolled over its +site; but the charitable couple who lodged the stranger were +preserved, and soon by some miraculous means they found +themselves rich, and a blessing rested on them and their +posterity.</p> + +<p>Besides the satanic missiles, there are stones somewhere on +the brink of the lake known as the ‘Mermaid Stones,’ but +not one of us knew where to look for them, so we set our faces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +towards Counterside, the hill on the northern side of the vale +and trudged patiently up the steep ascent in the hot afternoon +sun, repaid by the widening prospect. We could see where +waterfalls were rushing in the little glens at the head of the +dale, and the shadow of hills in the lake, and the remotest +village, Stalling Busk, said to be a place of unusual thrift. +Even in that remote nook, you would find the dalesmen’s +maxim kept from rusting, as well in the villages lower down +and nearer the world: it is—“I don’t want to chate, or to be +chated; but if it must be one or t’other, why, then, I +wouldn’t be chated.” It is no scandal to say that money-grubbing +in the dale is proverbial. “Look at that man,” +said my Quaker friend at Bainbridge, pointing out what +looked like a labourer driving a cart; “that man is worth +thousands.” I did not hear, however, that he made an offensive +use of his talent, as certain money-grubbers do in the +neighbourhood of large towns. “He’s got nought,” exclaimed +a coarse, rich man near Hull, slapping his pocket, of a poor +man who differed from him in opinion: “he’s got nought—what +should he know about it?”</p> + +<p>We went down on the other slope of Counterside with +Hawes in sight, and Cam Fell, a long ridgy summit more +than 1900 feet high. I preferred to double it rather than go +over it, and having shifted the knapsack to my own shoulders, +shook hands with my excellent friends, and choosing short +cuts so as to avoid the town, came in about an hour to the +steep lonely road which turns up into Widdale, beyond the +farther end of Hawes.</p> + +<p>We shall return to Wensleydale a few days hence; meanwhile, +good-natured reader, Widdale stretches before us, the +road rising with little interruption for miles. Two hours of +brisk walking will carry us through it between great wild hill +slopes, which are channeled here and there by the dry, stony +bed of a torrent. The evening closes in heavy and lowering, +and Cam Fell and Widdale Fell uprear their huge forms on +the right and left in sullen gloom, and appear the more mountainous. +Ere long thick mists overspread their summits, and +send ragged wreaths down the hollows, and much of the landscape +becomes dim, and we close our day with a view of +Nature in one of her mysterious moods. We ascend into the +bleak region, pass the bare little hamlet of Redshaw, catch a +dull glimpse of Ingleborough, with its broad flat summit, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +then at six miles from Hawes, come to the lonesome public-house +at Newby Head.</p> + +<p>Of such wild land as that we have traversed. Arthur Young +once bought a large tract, having in view a grand scheme of +reclamation, but was diverted therefrom by his appointment +as Secretary to the Board of Agriculture. “What a change,” +he says, “in the destination of a man’s life! Instead of +entering the solitary lord of four thousand acres, in the keen +atmosphere of lofty rocks and mountain torrents, with a little +creation rising gradually around me, making the desert smile +with cultivation, and grouse give way to industrious population, +active and energetic, though remote and tranquil; and +every instant of my existence, making two blades of grass to +grow where not one was found before—behold me at a desk, +in the smoke, the fog, the din of Whitehall!”</p> + +<p>The public-house is a resort for cattle-dealers from Scotland, +and head-quarters for shepherds and labourers. The fare is +better than the lodging. Three kinds of cakes, eggs, and +small pies of preserved bilberries, were set before me at tea; +but the bed, though the sheets were clean, had a musty smell +of damp straw.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">About Gimmer Hogs—Gearstones—Source of the Ribble—Weathercote Cave—An +Underground Waterfall—A Gem of a Cave—Jingle Pot—The Silly +Ducks—Hurtle Pool—The Boggart—A Reminiscence of the Doctor—Chapel-le-Dale—Remarkable +Scenery—Ingleborough—Ingleton—Craven—Young +Daniel Dove, and Long Miles—Clapham—Ingleborough Cave—Stalactite +and Stalagmite—Marvellous Spectacle—Pillar Hall—Weird Music—Treacherous +Pools—The Abyss—How Stalactite forms—The Jockey Cap—Cross +Arches—The Long Gallery—The Giant’s Hall—Mysterious Waterfall—A +Trouty Beck—The Bar-Parlour—A Bradford Spinner.</p> + +<p>On the way hither, I had noticed what was to me a novel +mode of bill-sticking; that is, on the sharp spines of tall +thistles by the wayside. The bills advertised <i>Gimmer Hogs</i> +for sale, a species of animal that I had never before heard of, +and I puzzled myself not a little in guessing what they could +be. For although <i>Gimmer</i> is good honest Danish, signifying +a ewe that has not yet lambed, the connexion between sheep +and swine is not obvious to the uninitiated. However, it +happened that I sat down to breakfast with a Scottish grazier +who had arrived soon after daybreak, and he told me that +sheep not more than one year old are called Gimmer Hogs; +but why the word hogs should be used to describe ewes he +could not tell.</p> + +<p>The morning was dull and drizzly, and by the time I had +crossed to Ingleton Fell, from the North to the West Riding, +a swift, horizontal rain came on, laborious to walk against, +and drove me for shelter into the <i>Gearstones Inn</i>. Of the two +or three houses hereabouts, one is a school; and in this wild +spot a Wednesday market is held. Ingleborough is in sight; +the hills around form pleasing groups, and had we time to +explore them, we should find many a rocky glen, and curious +cave, Catknot Hole, Alum Pot, Long Churn, and Dicken Pot; +and many a sounding ghyll, as the folk here call it—that is, a +waterfall. Not far from the inn is Gale beck, the source of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +Ribble; and as we proceed down the now continuous descent, +so do the features of the landscape grow more romantic.</p> + +<p>For more than an hour did the rain-storm sweep across the +hills, holding me prisoner. At length faint gleams of sunshine +broke through; I started afresh, and three miles farther +was treading on classic ground—Chapel-le-Dale. Turn in at +the second gate on the right beyond the public-house, and you +will soon have speech with Mr. Metcalfe, who keeps the key +of Weathercote cave. Standing on a sheltered valley slope, +with a flower-garden in front and trees around, his house +presents a favourable specimen of a yeoman’s residence. No +lack of comfort here, I thought, on seeing the plenteous store +of oaten bread on the racks in the kitchen. Nor is there any +lack of attention to the visitor’s wishes on the part of Mr. +Metcalfe. He unlocks a door, and leads the way down a +steep, rude flight of steps into a rocky chasm, from which +ascends the noise of falling water. A singularly striking +scene awaits you. The rocks are thickly covered in places +with ferns and mosses, and are broken up by crevices into a +diversity of forms, rugged as chaos. A few feet down, and +you see a beautiful crystalline spring in a cleft on the right, +and the water turning the moss to stone as it trickles down. +A few feet lower and you pass under a natural bridge formed +by huge fallen blocks. The stair gets rougher, twisting among +the big, damp lumps of limestone, when suddenly your guide +points to the fall at the farther extremity of the chasm. The +rocks are black, the place is gloomy, imparting thereby a +surprising effect to the white rushing column of water. A +beck running down the hill finds its way into a crevice in the +cliffs, from which it leaps in one great fall of more than +eighty feet, roaring loudly. Look up! the chasm is so narrow +that the trees and bushes overhang and meet overhead; and +what with the subdued light, and mixture of crags and +verdure, and the impressive aspect of the place altogether, +you will be lost in admiration.</p> + +<p>To descend lower seems scarcely possible, but you do get +down, scrambling over the big stones to the very bottom, into +the swirling shower of spray. Here a deep recess, or chamber +at one side, about eight feet in height, affords good standing +ground, whence you may see that the water is swallowed up +at once, and disappears in the heap of pebbles on which it +falls. Conversation is difficult, for the roar is overpowering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +After I had stood some minutes in contemplation, Mr. Metcalfe +told me that it was possible to get behind the fall and +look through it, taking care to run quickly across the strong +blast that meets you on starting from the recess. I buttoned +my overcoat to my chin, and rushed into the cavity, +and looked upwards. I was in a pit 120 feet deep, covered +by a tumultuous curtain of water, but had to make a speedy +retreat, so furiously was I enveloped by blinding spray. To +make observations from that spot one should wear a suit of +waterproof.</p> + +<p>Through the absence of sunshine I lost the sight of the +rainbow which is seen for about two hours in the middle of +the day from the front of the fall. It is a horizontal bow +with the convex side towards the water, shifting its position +higher or lower as you mount or descend.</p> + +<p>Although it might now be properly described as a pit, the +chasm gives you the impression of a cave of which the roof +has fallen in. If this be so, the fall was once entirely underground, +roaring day and night in grim darkness. It may still +be regarded as an underground fall, for the throat from which +it leaps is more than thirty feet below the surface. In the +cleft above this throat a thick heavy slab is fixed in a singular +position, just caught, as it seems, by two of its corners, so that +you fancy it ready to tumble at any moment with the current +that shoots so swiftly beneath it. As you pause often on returning +to look back at the roaring stream, and up to the +impending crags, you will heartily confirm Professor Sedgwick—who +by the way is a Yorkshireman—in his opinion, that +if Weathercote Cave be small, it is a very gem. Nor will +you grudge the shilling fee for admission.</p> + +<p>The extreme length of the pit is about 180 feet. In rainy +weather it becomes a sink-hole into which the streams pour +from all the slopes around, at times filling it to the brim and +running over. Mr. Metcalfe shewed me the stem of a tree +entangled in the crevices near the top, which had been floated +there by the floods of the previous winter. While coming +slowly up, I could not fail to notice the change of temperature, +from the chill damp that made me shiver, to a pleasant +warmth, and then to the heavy heat of a dull day in July.</p> + +<p>A little way below the house, going down the narrow dale, +you come to another mossy crevice in the rocks among the +trees to which the country folk have given the name of Gingle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +or Jingle Pot, because of a certain jingling sound produced by +stones when thrown therein. To my ear there was no ring in +the sound. It is quite dry, with a bottom sloping steeply +and making a sudden turn to a depth of eighty feet. Mr. +Metcalfe had let himself down into the Pot by a rope, two +days before my arrival, to look for a young cow that had +fallen in while on the gad, and disappeared in the lowest hole. +He saw the animal dead, and so tightly wedged in under the +rock, that there he left it. This was his second descent. +The first was made in winter some years ago to rescue his +ducks, which, perhaps deceived by the dark crevice, that +looked like a deep narrow pond when all the ground was +white with snow, took all together a sudden flight to settle on +it, and of course went to the bottom. Mr. Metcalfe was driving +them home at the time; he looked over the edge of the Pot, +and invited the silly birds to fly out. But no, they would not +be persuaded to use their wings, and remained crowded +together on the highest part of the slope, stretching their +necks upwards. So there was nothing for it but to fetch them +out. Their owner let himself down; yet after all his trouble +the ungrateful creatures refused as long as possible to be put +into the bag.</p> + +<p>Farther down again, and you come to Hurtle Pot, a gloomy +cavity overhung by trees, and mantled with ivy, ferns, and +coarse weeds. At the bottom rests a darksome pool, said to be +twenty-seven feet deep, which contains small trout, and +swallows up rocks and stones, or whatever may be thrown +into it, without any perceptible diminution of the depth. +You can get down to the edge of the water by an inconvenient +path, and feel the gloom, and find excuses for the rustics +who believe in the existence of the Hurtle Pot Boggart. In +olden time his deeds were terrible; but of late years he only +frightens people with noises. Both this and Jingle Pot are +choked with water from subterranean channels in flood time, +and then there is heard here such an intermittent throbbing, +gurgling noise, accompanied by what seem dismal gaspings, +that a timorous listener might easily believe the Boggart was +drowning his victims. One evening a loving couple, walking +behind the trees above the Pot, heard most unearthly noises +arise from the murky chasm; never had the like been heard +before. Surely, thought the turtle-doves, the Boggart is +coming forth with some new trick, and they fled in terror.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +A friend of Mr. Metcalfe’s was playing his flute down on the +edge of the pool.</p> + +<p>Again farther, and there is the little chapel from which +the dale takes its name. As I have said, we are here on classic +ground. That is the edifice, and this is the place described +by Southey. Here dwelt that worthy yeoman, Daniel Dove’s +father, and his fathers before him, handing down their six-and-twenty +acres, and better yet, an honest name, from one +to the other through many generations—yea, from time +immemorial. One of those good old families which had +ancestors before the Conquest. Give me leave, good-natured +reader, to complete my sketch by the description as it appears, +with masterly touches, in <i>The Doctor</i>.</p> + +<p>“The little church called Chapel-le-Dale, stands about a +bowshot from the family house. There they had all been +carried to the font; there they had each led his bride to the +altar; and thither they had, each in his turn, been borne +upon the shoulders of their friends and neighbours. Earth +to earth they had been consigned there for so many generations, +that half of the soil of the churchyard consisted of their +remains. A hermit who might wish his grave to be as quiet +as his cell, could imagine no fitter resting-place. On three +sides there was an irregular low stone wall, rather to mark the +limits of the sacred ground, than to enclose it; on the fourth +it was bounded by the brook, whose waters proceed by a +subterraneous channel from Weathercote Cave. Two or three +alders and rowan-trees hung over the brook, and shed their +leaves and seeds into the stream. Some bushy hazels grew at +intervals along the lines of the wall; and a few ash-trees as +the winds had sown them. To the east and west some fields +adjoined it, in that state of half cultivation which gives a +human character to solitude: to the south, on the other side +the brook, the common with its limestone rocks peering everywhere +above ground, extended to the foot of Ingleborough. +A craggy hill, feathered with birch, sheltered it from the +north.</p> + +<p>“The turf was as soft and fine as that of the adjoining +hills; it was seldom broken, so scanty was the population to +which it was appropriated; scarcely a thistle or a nettle +deformed it, and the few tombstones which had been placed +there, were now themselves half buried. The sheep came +over the wall when they listed, and sometimes took shelter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +in the porch from the storm. Their voices and the cry of +the kite wheeling above, were the only sounds which were +heard there, except when the single bell which hung in its +niche over the entrance tinkled for service on the Sabbath +day, or with a slower tongue gave notice that one of the +children of the soil was returning to the earth from which he +sprung.”</p> + +<p>Is not that charming?—a word-picture, worthy of a master’s +pen. One error, however, has slipped in. There is no porch, +nor any sign that one has ever been. The chapel will hold +eighty persons, and is, as Mr. Metcalfe, informed me, “never +too small.”</p> + +<p>A week or more might be spent in explorations in this +neighbourhood. Five miles down towards Kirkby Lonsdale, +there is Thornton Force. Near it is Yordas Cave—once the +haunt of a giant; Gatekirk Cave is distant about half an hour’s +walk; Douk Hole is in the neighbourhood of Ingleton; and +in all the region, and over the Westmoreland border, there is +a highly picturesque succession of caves, ravines, glens, and +torrents dashing through rocky chasms, and of all the magnificent +phenomena only to be seen amid the limestone. +Many a tourist hurries past on his way to the Lakes all +unmindful of scenery which, in its kind, surpasses any that +he will see between Windermere and Bassenthwaite.</p> + +<p>I went up to the public-house and dined with the haymakers, +and enjoyed the sight of sunburnt rustics eating +smoking mutton-pie without stint, as much as I did my own +repast. The host’s daughter brought me a book, which had +only recently been provided to receive the names of visitors. +Among them was the autograph of a Russian gentleman who +had called within the week, and who, as I heard, did nothing +but grumble at English customs, yet could not help praising +the scenery. He was on foot, and with knapsack on shoulder. +I crossed his track, and heard of him sundry times afterwards, +and hoped to meet him, that I might ask leave to enlighten +him on a few points concerning which he appeared to be +distressingly ignorant.</p> + +<p>I had planned to ascend and cross Ingleborough, and drop +down upon Clapham from its southern side; but when a hill +is half buried in mist, and furious scuds fly across its brow, +it is best to be content with the valley. So I took up my +route on the main road, and continued down the dale, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +the limestone crags breaking out on each side form a series +of irregular terraces, intermingled green and gray, pleasing +to the eye. In the bottom, on the right, the subterranean +river bursts forth which Goldsmith mentions in his <i>Natural +History</i>.</p> + +<p>The height of Ingleborough is 2361 feet. Its name is +supposed to be derived from <i>Ingle-burg</i>—a word which +embodies the idea of fire and fortress. It is a table-mountain, +with a top so flat and spacious that an encampment of more +than fifteen acres, of which the traces are still visible, was +established thereon, probably by the Brigantes, if not by an +earlier race. It is a landmark for vessels on the coast of +Lancashire. St. George’s Channel is visible from the summit; +and one who has looked on the eastern sea from Flamborough +Head may find it convenient to remember that Yorkshire, on +its westernmost extremity, is but ten miles from the western sea.</p> + +<p>In a short hour from Weathercote you come to the end of +the fells, an abrupt descent, all rough with crags and boulders, +where the view opens at once over the district of Craven, +and the little town of Ingleton is seen comfortably nestled +under the hill. Craven lies outspread in beauty—woods, +hills, fields, and pastures charming the eye of one who comes +from the untilled moors, and suggestive of delightful rambles +in store. The Ribble flows through it, watering many a +romantic cliff and wooded slope. And for the geologist, +Craven possesses especial interest, for it is intersected by what +he calls a ‘fault,’ on the southern side of which the limestone +strata are thrown down a thousand feet.</p> + +<p>I left Ingleton on the right, and turned off at the cross-roads +for Clapham, distant four miles. Here, as in other parts +of my travel, the miles seemed long—quite as long as they +were found to be years ago. We are told that when young +Daniel Dove walked dutifully every day to school, “the +distance was in those days called two miles; but miles of such +long measure that they were for him a good hour’s walk at a +cheerful pace.” On the way from Mickle Fell to Brough I +met with a more unkindly experience; and that was an hour’s +walking for a single mile.</p> + +<p>The road undulating along the hill-side commands pleasing +views, and for one on foot is to be preferred to the new road, +which winds among the fields below. And with a brightening +evening we come to Clapham—a cheerful, pretty village,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +adorned with flowers, and climbers, and smooth grass plots, +embowered by trees, and watered by a merry brook, lying +open to the sun on the roots of Ingleborough. Looking about +for an inn, I saw the <i>Bull and Cave</i>, and secured quarters +there by leaving my knapsack, and set out to seek for the +guide, whom I found chatting with a group of loungers on the +bridge. Bull and Cave seemed to me such an odd coupling, +that I fancied cave must be a Yorkshire way of spelling calf; +but it really means that which it purports, and the two words +are yoked together in order that visitors, who are numerous, +may be easily attracted.</p> + +<p>Here in Clapdale—a dale which penetrates the slopes of +Ingleborough—is the famous Ingleborough Cave, the deepest +and most remarkable of all the caves hitherto discovered in +the honeycombed flanks of that remarkable hill. Intending +to see this, I left unvisited the other caves which have been +mentioned as lying to the right and left of the road as you +come down from <i>Gearstones</i>.</p> + +<p>The fee for a single person to see the cave is half-a-crown; +for a party of eight or ten a shilling each. The guide, who +is an old soldier, and a good specimen of the class, civil and +intelligent, called at his house as we passed to get candles, and +presently we were clear of the village, and walking up-hill +along a narrow lane. Below us on the right lay cultivated +grounds and well-kept plantations, through which, as the old +man told me, visitors were once allowed to walk on their way +to the cave—a pleasing and much less toilsome way than the +lane; but the remains of picnics left on the grass, broken +bottles, orange-peels, greasy paper and wisps of hay, became +such a serious abuse of the privilege, that Mr. Farrer, the +proprietor, withdrew his permission. “It’s a wonder to me,” +said the guide, “that people shouldn’t know how to behave +themselves.”</p> + +<p>In about half an hour we came to a hollow between two +grassy acclivities, out of which runs a rapid beck, and here on +the left, in a limestone cliff prettily screened by trees, is the +entrance to the cave, a low, wide arch that narrows as it recedes +into the gloom. We walked in a few yards; the guide +lit two candles, placed one in my hand and unlocked the iron +gate, which, very properly, keeps out the perpetrators of +wanton mischief. A few paces take us beyond the last gleam +of daylight, and we are in a narrow passage, of which the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +sides and roof are covered with a brown incrustation resembling +gigantic clusters of petrified moss. Curious mushroom-like +growths hang from the roof, and throwing his light on +these, the guide says we are passing through the Inverted +Forest. So it continues, the roof still low, for eighty yards, +comprising the Old Cave, which has been known for ages; +and we come to a narrow passage hewn through a thick screen +of stalagmite. It was opened twenty years ago by Mr. +Farrer’s gardener, who laboured at the barrier until it was +breached, and a new cavern of marvellous formation was discovered +beyond. An involuntary exclamation broke from me +as I entered and beheld what might have been taken for a +glittering fairy palace. On each side, sloping gently upwards +till they met the roof, great bulging masses of stalagmite of +snowy whiteness lay outspread, mound after mound glittering +as with millions of diamonds. For the convenience of explorers, +the passage between them has been widened and +levelled as far as possible, wherein the beck that we saw outside +finds a channel after unusual rains. You walk along this +passage now on sand, now on pebbles, now bare rock. All +the great white masses are damp; their surfaces are rough +with countless crystallized convolutions and minute ripples, +between which trickle here and there tiny threads of water. +It is to the moisture that the unsullied whiteness is due, and +the glistening effect; for wherever stalactite or stalagmite becomes +dry, the colour changes to brown, as we saw in the Old +Cave. A strange illusion came over me as I paced slowly +past the undulating ranges, and for a moment they seemed to +represent the great rounded snow-fields that whiten the sides +of the Alps.</p> + +<p>The cavern widens: we are in the Pillar Hall; stalactites +of all dimensions hang from the roof, singly and in groups. +Thousands are mere nipples, or an inch or two in length; +many are two or three feet; and the whole place resounds +with the drip and tinkle of water. Stalagmites dot the floor, +and while some have grown upwards the stalactites have +grown downwards, until the ends meet, and the ceaseless +trickle of water fashions an unbroken crystal pillar. Some +stalactites assume a spiral twist; and where a long thin fissure +occurs in the roof they take the form of draperies, curtains, +and wings—wings shaped like those of angels. The guide +strikes one of the wings with a small mallet, and it gives out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +a rich musical note; another has the deep sonorous boom of a +cathedral bell, another rings sharp and shrill, and a row of +stalactitic sheets answers when touched with a gamut of notes. +Your imagination grows restless while you listen to such +strange music deep in the heart of a mountain.</p> + +<p>And there are pools on the floor, and in raised basins at the +side—pools of water so limpid as to be treacherous, for in the +uncertain light all appears to be solid rock. I stepped knee +deep into one, mistaking it for an even floor. Well for me it +was not the Abyss which yawns at the end of Pillar Hall. +The guide, to show the effect of light reflected on the water, +crawls up to the end of one of the basins with the two +candles in his hand, while you standing in the gloom at the +other end, observe the smooth brilliant surface, and the brightness +that flashes from every prominence of roof or wall.</p> + +<p>Although geologists explain the process of formation, there +is yet much food for wonder in remembering that all these +various objects were formed by running water. The water, +finding its way through fissures in the mighty bed of limestone +overhead, hangs in drops, one drop pushes another off, +but not idly; for while the current of air blowing through +carries off their carbonic acid, they give up the salt of lime +gathered during percolation, and form small stony tubes. And +these tubes, the same cause continuing to operate, grow in +course of ages to magnificent stalactites; and where thin, +broad streams have appeared, there the draperies and wings +and the great snow-fields have been fashioned. The incrustation +spreads even over some of the pools: the film of water +flowing in deposits its solid contents on the margin, and these, +crystallizing and accumulating, advance upon the surface, as +ice forms from the edge towards the centre of a pond, and in +time bridge it over with a translucent sheet.</p> + +<p>Among the stalagmites are a few of beehive shape; but +there is one named the Jockey Cap, an extraordinary specimen +for bigness. Its base has a circumference of ten feet, its +height is two feet, all produced by a succession of drops from +one single point. Advantage has been taken of this circumstance +to measure the rate of its growth. Mr. Farrer collected +a pint of drops, and ascertained the fall to be one hundred +pints a day, each pint containing one grain of calcareous +matter; and from this daily supply of a hundred grains the +Jockey Cap was built up to its present dimensions in two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +hundred and fifty-nine years. In six years, from 1845 to +1851, the diameter increased by two, and the height by three +inches. Probably owing to the morning’s rain, the drops fell +rapidly while I stood looking at the cap—splash—splash—splash—into +a small saucer-like depression in the middle of +the crown, from which with ceaseless overflow the water +bathes the entire mass. Around it is the most drippy part of +the cave.</p> + +<p>In places there are sudden breaks in the roof at right angles +to the passage—cracks produced by the cooling of this great +limestone bubble in the primeval days—which look as if +Nature had begun to form a series of cross aisles, and then +held her hand. Some of these are nests of stalactites; one +exhibits architectural forms adorned with beads and mouldings +as if sculptured in purest marble. The farther you penetrate +the loftier do they become; impressing you with the idea that +they are but the ante-chambers of some majestic temple +farther within. The Abyss appears to be a similar arch reversed +in the floor.</p> + +<p>Then we came to a bend where the roof rushing down +appears to bar all further advance, but the guide puts a thing +into your hand which you might take to be a scrubbing-brush, +and telling you to stoop, creeps into a low opening between +the rising floor and descending roof, and you discover that the +scrubbing-brush is a paddle to enable you to walk on three +legs while crouching down. It keeps your right hand from +the slippery rock; and your left has always enough to do in +holding the candle. The creeping continues but for a few +yards, and you emerge into one of the cross vaults, and again +sand and pebbles form the floor. Then comes the Cellar +Gallery, a long tunnel-like passage, the sides perpendicular, +the roof arched, which, like all the rest, has been shaped by +currents of water, aided in this case by the grinding action of +sand and pebbles. Continuing through thousands of years, +the result is as we behold it. The tunnel appears the more +gloomy from the absence of ornament: no stalactites, no +wings, reflect the dim candle-flame; for which reason, as well +as to avoid the creeping, many visitors refuse to advance +beyond the entrance of the Long Gallery. But the tunnel +leads you into the Giant’s Hall, where stalactites and draperies +again meet your eye, and where your light is all too feeble to +illumine the lofty roof. And here is the end, 2106 feet from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +the entrance—nearly half a mile. From the time that the +gardener broke through the barrier in the Old Cave, two years +were spent in gradual advances till the Giant’s Hall was +reached. The adventurous explorers endeavoured to get +farther, for two small holes were discovered leading downwards +from one side of the Hall to a lower cave, through +which arose the sound of falling water. They braved the +danger, and let themselves down to a level, where they were +stopped by a deep pool—the receiver of the fall. It must have +looked fearfully dismal. Yet might there not be caverns still +more wonderful beyond? Fixing a candle to his cap and with +a rope round his body, Mr. James Farrer swam across the +murky lake, and found it closed in by what appeared to be an +impassable wall of limestone—the heart of Ingleborough. It +was a courageous adventure.</p> + +<p>I stretched out my candle and peered down the two holes. +One is dry and sandy, the other slimy with a constant drip. +I heard the noise of the fall, the voice of the water plunging +for ever, night and day, in deep darkness. It seemed awful. +A current of air blows forth continually, whereby the cave +is ventilated throughout its entire length, and the visitor, +safe from stagnant damps and stifling vapours, breathes freely +in a pure atmosphere.</p> + +<p>I walked once more from end to end of the Hall; and we +retraced our steps. In the first cross aisle the guide made +me aware of an echo which came back to the ear as a hollow +moan. We crept through into Pillar Hall, and I could not +help lingering once more to admire the brilliant and delicate +incrustations, and to scramble between or over the great +stalagmitic barriers to see what was in the rear. Here and +there I saw a mass resembling a font, filled with water of +exquisite purity, or raised oval or oblong basins representing +alabaster baths, wherein none but vestal virgins might enter.</p> + +<p>Except that the path has been levelled and widened, and +openings enlarged, and planks laid in one place to facilitate +access to a change of level, the cave remains as when first +discovered. Mr. Farrer’s precautions against mischief have +prevented that pillage of the interior so much to be deplored +in other caves of this region, where the first-comers made +prize of all the ornaments within reach, and left little but +bare walls for those who follow. Yet even here some of the +smaller stalactites, the size of a finger, have been missed after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +a party has gone through; and once a man struck a group of +stalactites and broke more than a foot off the longest, in sheer +wantonness, as it seemed, for the fragment was too heavy to +carry away. And there the mutilation remains, a lasting +reproach to a fool.</p> + +<p>My candle burnt out, and the other flickered near its end, +but the old man had two halves which he lit, and these more +than sufficed for our return. The red light of sunset was +streaming into the entrance when we came forth after a +sojourn of nearly two hours in the bowels of the mountain. +The guide had been very indulgent with me; for most visitors +stay but an hour. Those who merely wish to walk through, +content with a hasty glance, will find little to impede their +movements. There is nothing, indeed, which need deter a +woman, only she must leave her hoop at home, wear thick +boots, and make provision for looping-up her skirts. Many +an English maiden would then enjoy a visit to Ingleborough +Cave.</p> + +<p>The beck flows out from under the cliff a few yards above +the entrance through a broad low vault. I crept in for some +distance, and it seemed to me that access to the cave might be +gained by wading up the stream. Then as we went down +the hill, the old soldier thought that as there were but two of +us, we might venture to walk through the grounds, where we +saw the lake, the bridge, and the cascade, on our way to the +village.</p> + +<p>Delicious trout from the neighbouring brook, and most +excellent beer, awaited me for supper, and made me well +content with the <i>Bull and Cave</i>. Afterwards I joined the +party in the little bar-parlour, where among a variety of +topics, the mountain was talked about. The landlord, a hale +old fellow of sixty, said that he had never once been on the +summit, though he had lived all his life at the base. A rustic, +though a two years’ resident in Clapham, had not been up, and +for a reason: “You see,” he said, “if a man gets on a high +place, he isn’t satisfied then; he wants to get higher. So I +thinks best to content myself down here.”</p> + +<p>Then spoke another of the party, a man well dressed, in +praise of rural quiet, and the enjoyment of fresh air, contrasting +the tranquillity of Clapham at that hour with the noise +and confusion at Bradford, where the streets would be thronged +till after midnight. He was an ‘operative’ from Bradford,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +come as was his wont, to spend Sunday in the country. He +grew eloquent on the subject of masters and men, averring +that masters, as a body, would never do anything for the +benefit of workmen unless compelled thereto by act of Parliament. +Well might he say so. Would the mills be ventilated; +would dangerous machinery be boxed off; would schools have +been interposed between children and slavery, had Parliament +not interfered? The number of Yorkshire factory children +at school on the last day of October, 1857, was 18,000, from +eight to thirteen years of age. On this latter particular our +spinner could not say enough in praise of the House of Commons: +there was a chance for the bairns now that the law +punished the masters who did not allow time for school as well +as for work. “It’s one of the grandest things,” he said, +“Parliament ever did for the factory hands.”</p> + +<p>He had too much reason to speak as he did; but we must +not suppose that the great millowners are worse than other +masters. Owing to the large numbers they employ, the evils +complained of appear in a violent and concentrated form; +but we have only to look at the way in which apprentices and +domestic servants are treated everywhere, especially in large +towns (with comparatively few exceptions,) to become aware +that a want of fair-play is by far too prevalent. No wonder +that Dr. Livingstone finds reason to say we are not model +Christians.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">By Rail to Skipton—A Stony Town—Church and Castle—The Cliffords—Wharfedale—Bolton +Abbey—Picturesque Ruins—A Foot-Bath—Scraps +from Wordsworth—Bolton Park—The Strid—Barden Tower—The Wharfe—The +Shepherd Lord—Reading to Grandfather—A Cup of Tea—Cheerful +Hospitality—Trout Fishing—Gale Beck—Symon Seat—A Real Entertainer—Burnsall—A +Drink of Porter—Immoralities—Threshfield—Kilnsey—The +Crag—Kettlewell—A Primitive Village—Great Whernside—Starbottom—Buckden—Last +View of Wharfedale—Cray—Bishopdale—A Pleasant Lane—Bolton +Castle—Penhill—Aysgarth—Dead Pastimes—Decrease of Quakers—Failure +of a Mission—Why and Wherefore—Aysgarth Force—Drunken +Barnaby—Inroad of Fashion.</p> + +<p>The railway station at Clapham, as well as others along the +line, is built in the old timbered style, and harmonizes well +with the landscape. A railway hotel stands close by, invitingly +open to guests who dislike the walk of a mile to the +village; and the landlord, as I was told, multiplies his profits +by renting the Cave.</p> + +<p>A short flight by the first train took me to breakfast at +Skipton, all through the pretty country of Craven, of which +the town is the capital. The houses are built of stone taken +from the neighbouring hills. The bells were just beginning +their chimes as I passed the church, and, seeing the door open, +I went in and looked at the stained glass and old monuments, +the shields and sculptures which commemorate the Cliffords—Lords +of the Honour of Skipton—the Lady Ellinor, of the +house of Brandon; the Earls of Cumberland, one of whom was +Queen Elizabeth’s champion against the Spaniard, as well as +in tilt and tournament.</p> + +<p>The castle, which has played a conspicuous part in history, +stands beside the church, and there, over the gateway, you +may still see the shield bearing two griffins, and the motto +<span class="blackletter">Desormais</span>. Within, you view the massive, low, round +towers from a pleasant garden, where but few signs of antiquity +are to be seen; for modern restorations have masked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +the old grim features. Here dwelt the Cliffords, a proud +and mighty family, who made a noise in the world, in their +day. Among them was Lord John, or Black Clifford, who +did butcher-work at the battle of Wakefield, and was +repaid the year after at Towton. In the first year of +Edward IV. the estates were forfeited because of high +treason, and Henry, the tenth Lord of the Honour of Skipton, +to escape the ill consequence of his father’s disloyalty, was +concealed for twenty-five years among the shepherds of +Cumberland. Another of the line was that imperial-minded +Countess, the Lady Anne Clifford, who, when she repaired +her castle of Skipton, made it known by an inscription in the +same terms as that set up on her castle at Brough, and with +the same passage of Scripture. Now it is a private residence; +and the ancient tapestries and pictures, and other curiosities +which are still preserved, can only be seen after due pains +taken by the inquiring visitor.</p> + +<p>The life of the Shepherd Lord, as he was called, is a touching +episode in the history of the Cliffords; heightened by the +marked contrast between the father and son—the one warlike +and revengeful, the other gentle and forgiving. We shall +come again on the traces of the pastoral chief ere the day be +over.</p> + +<p>There is a long stretch of the old castle wall on the left as +you go up the road towards Knaresborough. From the top +of the hill, looking back about a mile and a half distant, you +get a pleasing view of Skipton, lying in its cheerful green +valley; and presently, in the other direction, you see the hills +of Wharfedale. Everywhere the grass is waving, or, newly-mown, +fills all the air with delightful odour. I walked +slowly, for the day was hot—one of the hottest of that fervid +July—and took till noon to accomplish the seven miles to +Bolton Abbey. The number of vehicles drawn up at the +<i>Devonshire Arms</i>—a good inn about two furlongs from the +ruin—and the numerous visitors, betokened something +unusually attractive.</p> + +<p>Since Landseer painted his picture, Bolton Abbey has +become a household word. It seems familiar to us beforehand. +We picture it to our minds; and your imagination +must be extravagant indeed if the picture be not realized. +It is a charming scene that opens as you turn out of the road +and descend the grassy slope: the abbey standing, proud and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +beautiful in decay, in a green meadow, where stately trees +adorn the gentle undulations; the Wharfe rippling cheerfully +past, coming forth from wooded hills above, going away between +wooded hills below, alike</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“With mazy error under pendent shades;”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>the bold perpendicular cliff opposite, all purple and gray, +crowned and flanked with hanging wood; the cascade rushing +down in a narrow line of foam; the big mossy stones that line +the bank, and the stony islets in the bed of the stream; and, +looking up the dale, the great sweeps of wood in Bolton Park, +terminated by the wild heights of Symon Seat and Barden +Fell. All around you see encircling woods, and combinations +of rock, and wood, and water, that inspire delightful emotions.</p> + +<p>But you will turn again and again to the abbey to gaze on +its tall arches, the great empty window, the crumbling walls, +over which hang rich masses of ivy, and walking slowly +round you will discover the points whence the ruins appear +most picturesque. And within, where elder-trees grow, and +the carved tombstones of the old abbots lie on the turf, you +may still see where the monks sat in the sanctuary, and +where they poured the holy water. And whether from within +or without, you will survey with reverent admiration. A +part of the nave is used as a church for the neighbourhood, +and ere I left, the country folk came from all the paths around, +summoned by the pealing bell. I looked in and saw richly +stained windows and old tombs.</p> + +<p>On the rise above the abbey stands a castellated lodge, embodying +the ancient gate-house, an occasional resort of the late +Duke of Devonshire, to whom the estate belonged. Of all his +possessions this perhaps offered him most of beauty and +tranquillity.</p> + +<p>You may ramble at will; cross the long row of stepping-stones +to the opposite bank, and scramble through the wood +to the top of the cliff; or roam over the meadows up and +down the river, or lounge in idle enjoyment on the seats fixed +under some of the trees. After strolling hither and thither, +I concealed myself under the branches overhanging the stream, +and sat there as in a bower, with my feet in the shallow +water, the lively flashing current broad before me, and read,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“From Bolton’s old monastic tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bells ring loud with gladsome power;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun shines bright; the fields are gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With people in their best array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of stole and doublet, hood and scarf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the banks of crystal Wharfe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the Vale retired and lowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trooping to that summons holy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, up among the moorlands, see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sprinklings of blithe company!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And while I read, the bell was ringing, and the people +were gathering together, and anon the priest</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">“all tranquilly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recites the holy liturgy,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>but no White Doe of Rylstone came gliding down to pace +timidly among the tombs, and make her couch on a solitary +grave.</p> + +<p>And reading there on the scene itself, I found a new charm +in the pages—a vivid life in the old events and old names:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Pass, pass who will, yon chantry door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the chink in the fractured floor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down, and see a grisly sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A vault where the bodies are buried upright!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, face by face, and hand by hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Claphams and Mauleverers stand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in his place, among son and sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is John de Clapham, that fierce Esquire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A valiant man, and a name of dread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the ruthless wars of the White and Red;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who dragged Earl Pembroke from Banbury church,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smote off his head on the stones of the porch!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down among them, if you dare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft does the White Doe loiter there.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And here, as at Skipton, we are reminded of the Cliffords, +and of the Shepherd Lord, to whom appeared at times the +gracious fairy,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And taught him signs, and showed him sights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Craven’s dens, on Cumbrian heights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When under a cloud of fear he lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shepherd clad in homely gray.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I left my mossy seat and returned to the bank, thoroughly +cooled, on coming to the end of the poem, and started for a +travel up the dale. The road skirts the edge of Bolton Park; +but the pleasantest way is through the park itself, for there +you have grand wooded slopes on each side, and there the +river rushing along its limestone bed encounters the far-famed +Strid. A rustic, however, told me that no one was allowed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +cross the park on Sunday; but having come to see a sight, I +did not like to be disappointed, and thought it best to test the +question myself. I kept on, therefore, passing from the open +grounds to delightful paths under the woods, bending hither +and thither, and with many a rise and fall among rocks and +trees. Presently, guided by the roar, I struck through the +wood for the stony margin of the river. Here all is rock: +great hummocks, ledges and tables of rock, wherein are deep +basins, gullies, bays, and shallow pools; and the water makes +a loud noise as it struggles past. Here and there a rugged +cliff appears, its base buried in underwood, its front hung +with ivy; and there are marks on the trees, and portentous +signs on the drifted boulders, which reveal the swollen height +of floods. There are times when all these Yorkshire rivers +become impetuous torrents, roaring along in resistless might +and majesty.</p> + +<p>A little farther and the rocks form a dam, leaving but a +narrow opening in the centre, across which a man may stride, +for the passage of the stream—and we behold the Strid. Piling +itself up against the barrier, the water rushes through, deep, +swift and ungovernable, and boils and eddies below with +never-ceasing tumult. The rock on each side of the sluice is +worn smooth by the feet of many who have stridden across, +caring nothing for the tales that are told of terrible accidents +from a slip of the foot or from giddiness. Once a young lady, +fascinated by the rapid current, fell in and was drowned in +sight of her friends. And</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“——mounting high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To days of dim antiquity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Lady Aaliza mourned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her son, and felt in her despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pang of unavailing prayer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her son in Wharfe’s abysses drowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noble Boy of Egremound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which affliction—when the grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of God had in her heart found place—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pious structure, fair to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose up, the stately Priory!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>For about a mile upwards the river-bed is still rocky, and +you see many a pretty effect of rushing water, and perhaps +half a dozen strids, but not one with only a single sluice, as the +first. No one stopped or turned me back; no peremptory +shout threatened me from afar; and truly the river is so shut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +in by woods, that intruders could only be seen by an eye +somewhere on its brink. Not a soul did I meet, except three +countrymen, who, when I came suddenly upon them on +doubling a crag, seemed ready to take to flight, for instead of +coming the beaten way to view the romantic, they had got +over the fence, and scrambled down through the wood. They +soon perceived that I was very harmless.</p> + +<p>A little farther and we leave the rocks; the woods recede +and give place to broad grassy slopes; high up on the right +stands the keeper’s house; higher on the left the old square +block of Barden Tower peeps above the trees; before us a +bridge spans the river, and there we pass into the road which +leads through the village of Barden to Pateley Bridge and +Nidderdale.</p> + +<p>The Wharfe has its source in the bleak moorlands which +we saw flanking Cam Fell during our descent from Counterside +a few days ago. Rocks and cliffs of various formations +beset all its upper course, imparting a different character to +the dale every few leagues—savage, romantic, picturesque, +and beautiful. No more beautiful scenery is to be found +along the river than for some miles above and below Bolton +Abbey. Five miles farther down, the stream flows past those +two delightful inland watering-places, Ilkley and Ben Rhydding, +and onwards between thick woods and broad meadows +to Wetherby, below which it is again narrowed by cliffs, until +leaving Tadcaster, rich in memories of Rome, it enters the +Ouse between Selby and York.</p> + +<p>The sight of Barden Tower reminds us once more of the +Shepherd Lord, for there he oft did sojourn, enjoying rural +scenes and philosophical studies, even after his restoration to +rank and estate in his thirty-second year.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I wish I could have heard thy long-tried lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou virtuous Lord of Skipton! Thou couldst well<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From sage Experience, that best teacher, tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How far within the Shepherd’s humble door<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lives the sure happiness, that on the floor<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of gay Baronial Halls disdains to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though decked with many a feast, and many a spell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of gorgeous rhyme, and echoing with the roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Pleasure, clamorous round the full-crowned bowl!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hadst (and who had doubted thee?) exprest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What empty baubles are the ermined stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud coronet, rich walls with tapestry drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And music lulling the sick frame to rest!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bliss only haunts the pure contented soul!”<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>But the blood of his ancestors flowed in his veins, and on +the royal summons to arm and array for Flodden, he, at the +age of sixty, led his retainers to the field:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“From Penigent to Pendle Hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Linton to Long Addingham,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that Craven coasts did till,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They with the lusty Clifford came.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I crossed the bridge and went up the hill for a view of the +ruin. At the top, a broken slope, sprinkled with trees, serves +as village green to the few houses which constitute the place +known as Barden Tower. Near one of these houses I saw a +pretty sight—a youth sitting on a bench under a shady tree +reading to his old grandfather from one of those venerable +folios written by divines whose head and heart were alike full +of their subject—the ways of God towards man, and man’s +duty. Wishing to make an inquiry concerning the road, I +apologized for my interruption, when both graybeard and lad +made room for me between them on the bench, and proffered +all they knew of information. But it soon appeared that the +particulars I wanted could only be furnished by “uncle, who +was up-stairs a-cleaning himself;” so to improve the time +until he was ready I passed round the end of the house to the +Tower in the rear. The old gateway remains, and some of +the ancient timbers; but the upper chambers are now used as +lofts for firewood, and the ground-floor is a cow-stall. The +external walls are comparatively but little decayed, and appear +in places as strong as when they sheltered the Cliffords.</p> + +<p>Uncle was there when I returned to the front. He knew +the country well, for in his vocation as a butcher he travelled +it every week, and enabled me to decide between Kettlewell +and Pateley Bridge for my coming route. And more, he said +he would like to walk a mile or two with me; he would put +on his coat, and soon overtake me. I walked slowly on, and +was out of sight of the house, when he came running after +me, and cried, “Hey! come back. A cup o’ tea ’ll do neither +of us any harm, so come back and have a cup afore we start.”</p> + +<p>I went back, for such hospitality as that was not to be +slighted; and while we sipped he talked about the pretty +scenery, about the rooms which he had to let, and the lodgers +he had entertained. Sometimes there came a young couple +full of poetry and sentiment, too much so, indeed, to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +merry; sometimes a student, who liked to prowl about the +ruin, explore all its secrets, and wander out to where</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“High on a point of rugged ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the wastes of Rylstone Fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the loftiest ridge or mound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where foresters or shepherds dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An edifice of warlike frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands single—Norton tower its name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It fronts all quarters, and looks round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O’er path and road, and plain and dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark moor, and gleam of pool and stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a prospect without bound.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And he talked, too, about the trout in the river, and the +anglers who came to catch them. But the fishing is not +unrestricted; leave must be obtained, and a fee paid. Anyone +in search of trout or the picturesque, who can content +himself with rustic quarters, would find in Mr. Williamson, +of Barden Tower, a willing adviser.</p> + +<p>Presently we took the road, which, with the river on the +right, runs along the hill-side, sheltered by woods, high above +the stream. A few minutes brought us to a gate, where we +got over, and went a little way down the slope to look at +Gale beck, a pretty cascade tumbling into a little dell, delightfully +cool, and green with trees, ferns, and mosses. My companion +showed that he used his eyes while driving about in +his cart, and picked out the choice bits of the scenery; +and these he now pointed out to me with all the pride of one +who had a personal interest in their reputation. Ere long we +emerged from the trees, and could overlook the pleasing +features of the dale; fields and meadows on each side of the +stream, bounded by steep hills, and crags peeping out from the +great dark slopes of firs. The rocky summit of Symon Seat +appeared above a brow on the left bank, coming more and +more into view as we advanced, till the great hill itself was +unveiled. From those rocks, on a clear day, you can see +Rosebury Topping, and the towers of York and Ripon.</p> + +<p>For four miles did my entertainer accompany me, which, +considering the fierce heat of the evening, I could only regard +as an honest manifestation of friendliness—to me very gratifying. +We parted in sight of Burnsall, a village situate on +the fork of the river, where the Littondale branch joins that +of Wharfedale proper.</p> + +<p>A man who sat reading at his door near the farther end of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +the village looked up as I passed, and asked, “Will ye have a +drink o’ porter?” Hot weather justified acceptance; he invited +me to sit while he went to the barrel, and when he +came forth with the foaming jug, he, too, must have a talk. +But his talk was not what I expected—the simple words of a +simple-minded rustic; he craved to know something, and +more than was good, concerning a certain class of publications +sold in Holywell-street; things long ago condemned by the +moral law, and now very properly brought under the lash of +the legal law by Lord Campbell. Having no mission to be a +scavenger, I advised him not to meddle with pitch; but he +already knew too much, and he mentioned things which help +to explain the great demand for the immoral books out of the +metropolis. One was, that in a small northern, innocent-looking +country town, Adam and Eve balls regularly take +place, open to all comers who can pay for admission.</p> + +<p>From Burnsall onwards we have again the grass country, +the landscape loses the softened character of that in our rear; +we follow a bad cross-road for some miles, passing wide apart +a solitary farm or cottage, and come into a high-road a little +to the right of Threshfield. Here and there a group of +labourers are lounging on a grassy bank, smoking, talking +quietly, and enjoying the sunset coolness; and I had more +than one invitation to tarry and take a friendly pipe.</p> + +<p>Louder sounds the noise of the river as the evening lengthens; +the dark patches of firs on the hill-sides grow darker; +the rocks and cliffs look strange and uncertain; the road +approaches a foaming rapid, where another strid makes the +water roar impatiently; and so I completed the ten miles +from Harden Tower, and came in deep twilight to the <i>Anglers’ +Inn</i> at Kilnsey as the good folk were preparing for bed.</p> + +<p>As its name denotes, the house is frequented by anglers, +who, after paying a fee of half-a-crown a day, find exercise +for their skill in the rippling shallows and silent pools of the +river which flows past not many yards from the road. I am +told that the sport is but indifferent.</p> + +<p>A short distance beyond the inn there rises sheer from the +road a grand limestone cliff, before which you will be tempted +to pause. A low grassy slope, bordered by a narrow brook, +forms a natural plinth; small trees and ivy grow from the +fissures high overhead, and large trees and bush on the ledges; +the colony of swallows that inhabit the holes flit swiftly about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +the crest, and what with the contrast of verdure and rock, and +the magnitude of the cliff, your eye is alike impressed and +gratified. By taking a little trouble you may get to the top, +and while looking on the scene beneath, let your thoughts run +back to the time when Wharfedale was a loch, such as Loch +Long or Loch Fyne, into which the tides of the sea flowed +twice a day, beating against the base of the Kilnsey Crag, +where now sheep graze, and men pass to and fro on business +or pleasure.</p> + +<p>To take my start the next morning from so lofty a headland: +to feel new life thrill through every limb from the early +sun; to drink of the spring which the cliff overshadows where +it gushes forth among mossy stones at the root of an ash; to +inhale the glorious breeze that tempered the heat, was a +delightful beginning of a day’s walk. Soon we cross to the +left bank of Wharfe, and follow the road between the river +and a cliffy range of rocks to Kettlewell, enjoying pleasing +views all the way. And the village itself seems a picture of +an earlier age—a street of little stone cottages, backed by gardens +and orchards; here and there a queer little shop; the +shoemaker sitting with doors and windows open looking out +on his flowers every time he lifts his eyes; the smith, who +has opened all his shutters to admit the breeze, hammering +leisurely, as if half inclined for a holiday with such a wealth +of sunshine pouring down; and <i>Nancy Hardaker, Grocer and +Draper</i>, and dealer in everything besides, busying herself +behind her little panes with little preparations for customers. +It is a simple picture: one that makes you believe the honest +outward aspect is only the expression of honesty within.</p> + +<p>For one who had time to explore the neighbourhood, Kettlewell +would be good head-quarters. It has two inns, and a +shabby tenement inscribed <i>Temperance Hotel</i>. Hence you may +penetrate to the wild fells at the head of the dale; or climb +to the top of Great Whernside; or ramble over the shoulder +of the great mountain into Coverdale, discovering many a +rocky nook, and many a little cascade and flashing rill. Great +Whernside, 2263 feet high, commands views into many dales, +and affords you a glimpse of far-off hills which we have +already climbed. The Great one has a brother named Little +Whernside, because he is not so high by nearly three hundred +feet. The “limestone pass” between Great Whernside and +Buckden Pike is described as a grand bit of mountain scenery.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>From Kettlewell the road still ascends the dale, in sight of +the river which now narrows to the dimensions of a brook. +Crags and cliffs still break out of the hill-slopes, and more +than any other that we have visited, you see that Wharfedale +is characterized by scars and cliffs. The changing aspect of +the scenery is manifest; the grass is less luxuriant than lower +down, and but few of the fields are mown. Starbottom, a +little place of rude stone houses, with porches that resemble +an outer stair, reminds us once more of a mountain village; +but it has trim flower-gardens, and fruit-trees, and a fringe of +sycamores.</p> + +<p>I came to Buckden, the next village, just in time to dine +with the haymakers. Right good fare was provided—roast +mutton, salad, and rice pudding. Who would not be a hay-maker! +Beyond the village the road turns away from the +river, and mounts a steep hill, where, from the top of the +bend, we get our last look down Wharfedale, upwards along +Langstrothdale, and across the elevated moorlands which +enclose Penyghent. Everywhere the gray masses of stone +encroach on the waving grass. Still the road mounts, and +steeply; on the left, in a field, are a few small enclosures, all +standing, which, perhaps, represent the British dwellings at +the foot of Addleborough. Still up, through the hamlet of +Cray, with rills, rocks, and waterfalls on the right and left, +and then the crown of the pass, and a wide ridgy hollow, +flanked by cliffs, the outliers of Buckden Pike, which rears +itself aloft on the right. Then two or three miles of this +breezy expanse, between Stake Fell on one side and Wasset +Fell on the other, and we come to the top of Kidstone bank, +and suddenly Bishopdale opens before us, a lovely sylvan +landscape melting away into Wensleydale. It will tempt you +to lie down for half an hour on the soft turf and enjoy the +prospect at leisure.</p> + +<p>The descent is alike rough and steep, bringing you rapidly +down to the first farm. A cliff on the right gradually merges +into the rounded swell of a green hill; we come to a plantation +where, in the open places by the beck, grow wild strawberries; +then to trees on one side—ash, holly, beech, and +larch, the stems embraced by ivy, and thorns and wild roses +between; then trees on both sides, and the narrow track is +beautiful as a Berkshire lane—and that is saying a great deal—and +the brook which accompanies it makes a cheerful sound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +as if gladdened by the quivering sunbeams that fall upon it. +Everywhere the haymakers are at work, and with merry +hearts, for the wind blows lustily and makes the whole dale +vocal.</p> + +<p>By-and-by the lane sends off branches, all alike pretty, one +of which brings us down into the lowest meadows, and on the +descent we get glimpses of Bolton Castle, and on the right +appears Penhill, shouldering forward like a great promontory. +A relic of antiquity may yet be seen on its slopes—obscure +remains of a Preceptory of the Knights Templars. The +watcher on Penhill was one of those who helped to spread the +alarm of invasion in the days of Napoleon the Great, for he +mistook a fire on the eastern hills for the beacon on Rosebury +Topping, and so set his own a-blaze. We come to Thoralby, +a village of comfortable signs within, and pleasant prospects +without; and now Wensleydale opens, and another half-hour +brings us to Aysgarth, a large village four miles below Bainbridge.</p> + +<p>A tall maypole stands on the green, the only one I remember +to have seen in Yorkshire. It is a memorial of the sports +and pastimes for which Wensleydale was famous. The annual +feasts and fairs would attract visitors from twenty miles +around. Here, at Aysgarth, not the least popular part of the +amusements were the races, run by men stark naked, as people +not more than forty years old can well remember. But +times are changed; and throughout the dale drunkenness and +revelry are giving way to teetotalism, lectures, tea-gatherings, +and other moral recreations. And the change is noticeable in +another particular: the Quakers, who were once numerous in +the dale, have disappeared too.</p> + +<p>Some two or three years ago a notion prevailed in a certain +quarter that the time was ripe for making proselytes, and establishing +a meeting once more at Aysgarth. The old meeting-house, +the school-room, and dwelling-house, remained; why +should they not be restored to their original uses? Was it +not “about Wensleydale” that George Fox saw “a great +people in white raiment by a river-side?” Did he not, while +on his journey up the dale, go into the “steeple-house” and +“largely and freely declare the word of life, and have not +much persecution,” and afterwards was locked into a parlour +as “a young man that was mad, and had run away from his +relations?” From certain indications it seemed that a suc<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>cessful +effort might be made; an earnest and active member +of the society volunteered to remove with his family from +London into Yorkshire to carry out the experiment; and soon +the buildings were repaired, the garden was cultivated anew, +the doors of the meeting-house were opened; the apostle went +about and talked to the people, and gave away tracts freely. +The people listened to him, and read his tracts, and were well +content to have him among them; but the experiment failed—not +one became a Quaker.</p> + +<p>At the beginning of the present year (1858) an essay was +advertised for, on the causes of the decline of Quakerism, +simultaneously with a great increase in the population at large. +It appears to me that the causes are not far to seek. One of +them I have already mentioned: others consist in what +Friends call a “guarded education,” which seeks rather to +ignore vice than to implant abhorrence of it; in training +children by a false standard: “Do this; don’t do that;” not +because it is right or wrong, but because such is or is not the +practice of Friends, so that when the children grow old enough +to see what a very foolish Mrs. Grundy they have had set +before them as a model, they naturally suspect imposition, +become restive, and kick over the traces. Moreover, to set up +fidgetty crotchets as principles of truth, whereby the sense of +the ludicrous is excited in others, and not reverence, is not the +way to increase and multiply. Many Quakers now living will +remember the earnest controversy that once stirred them as to +whether it might be proper to use umbrellas, and to wear hats +with a binding round the edge of the brim; and the anxious +breeches question, of which a ministress said in her sermon, +that it was “matter of concern to see so many of the young +men running down into longs, yet the Lord be thanked, there +was a precious remnant left in shorts.” And again, silent +worship tends to diminish numbers, as also the exceeding +weakness—with rare exceptions—of the words that occasionally +break the silence; and the absence of an external motive +to fix the attention encourages roving thoughts. Hence Darlington +railway-shares, and the shop-shelves, and plans for +arbours and garden-plots, employ the minds of many who +might have other thoughts did they hear—“Be not deceived, +God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall +he also reap.”</p> + +<p>There is my essay. It is a short one, freely given; for I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +must confess to a certain liking for the Quakers, after all. +Their charities are noble and generous; their views on many +points eminently liberal and enlightened; and though themselves +enslaved to crotchets, they have shown bravely and +practically that they abhor slavery; and their recent mission +to Finland demonstrates the bounty and tenderness with +which they seek to mitigate the evils of war. There is in +Oxfordshire a little Quaker burial-ground, on the brow of a +hill looking far away into the west country, where I have +asked leave to have my grave dug, when the time comes: +that is, if the sedate folk will admit among them even a dead +Philistine.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I saw the Quaker above-mentioned standing at his door: +we were total strangers to each other, but my Bainbridge +friend had told him there was a chance of my visiting Aysgarth, +and he held out his hand. Soon tea was made ready, +and after that he called his son, and led me across the hill-slopes +to get the best views, and by short cuts down to Aysgarth +Force, a mile below the village, where the Ure rushes +down three great breaks or steps in the limestone which +stretch all across the river. The water is shallow, and falling +as a white curtain over the front of each step, shoots swiftly +over the broad level to the next plunge, and the next, producing, +even in dry weather, a very pleasing effect. But +during a flood the steps disappear, and the whole channel is +filled by one great rapid, almost terrific in its vehemence. +The stony margin of the stream is fretted and worn into many +curious forms, and for a mile or more above and below the +bed is stone—nothing but stone—while on each side the steep +banks are patched and clothed with trees and bush. The +broken ground above the Force, interspersed with bush, is a +favourite resort of picnic parties, and had been thronged a few +days before by a multitude of festive teetotallers.</p> + +<p>The bridge which crosses the river between the Force and +the village, with its arch of seventy-one feet span springing +from two natural piers of limestone, is a remarkably fine +object when viewed from below. Above, the river flows +noisily from ledge to ledge down a winding gorge.</p> + +<p>Drunken Barnaby, who, by the way, was a Yorkshireman, +named Richard Braithwaite, came to Wensleydale in one of +his itineraries. “Thence,” says the merry fellow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Thence to Wenchly, valley-seated,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For antiquity repeated;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheep and sheep-herd, as one brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindly drink to one another;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till pot-hardy, light as feather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheep and sheep-herd sleep together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="hrpoem" /><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Thence to Ayscarthe from a mountaine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fruitfull valleys, pleasant fountaine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woolly flocks, cliffs steep and snewy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fields, fens, sedgy rushes, saw I;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which high mount is called the Temple,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all prospects an example.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The church stands in a commanding position, whence there +is a good prospect down the dale. Besides the landscape, +there are times when the daring innovations made by fashion +on the old habits may be observed. Wait in the churchyard +on Sunday when service ends, and you will see many a gay +skirt, hung with flounces and outspread by crinoline, come +flaunting forth from the church. And in this remote village, +Miss Metcalfe and Miss Thistlethwaite must do the bidding +of coquettish Parisian milliners, even as their sisters do in +May Fair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">A Walk—Carperby—Despotic Hay-time—Bolton Castle—The Village—Queen +Mary’s Prison—Redmire—Scarthe Nick—Pleasing Landscape—Halfpenny +House—Hart-Leap Well—View into Swaledale—Richmond—The Castle—Historic +Names—The Keep—St. Martin’s Cell—Easby Abbey—Beautiful +Ruins—King Arthur and Sleeping Warriors—Ripon—View from the Minster +Tower—Archbishop Wilfrid—The Crypt—The Nightly Horn—To +Studley—Surprising Trick—Robin Hood’s Well—Fountains Abbey—Pop +goes the Weasel—The Ruins—Robin Hood and the Curtall Friar—To +Thirsk—The Ancient Elm—Epitaphs.</p> + +<p>My friend had for some time wished to look into Swaledale; +he therefore accompanied me the next morning, as far as the +route served, through the village of Carperby, where dwells a +Quaker who has the best grazing farm in the North Riding. +We passed without calling, for he must be a philosopher +indeed, here in the dales, who can endure interruptions in +hay-time, when all who can work are busy in the fields. Ask +no man to lend you a horse or labourer in hay-time. Servants +give themselves leave in hay-time, and go toiling in the sunshine +till all the crop is led, earning as much out of doors in +three or four weeks as in six months in-doors. What is it to +them that the mistress has to buckle-to, and be her own +servant for a while, and see to the washing, and make the +bread? as I saw in my friend’s house, knowing that in case +of failure the nearest place where a joint of meat or a loaf of +bread can be got is at Hawes, eight miles distant. What is +it to them? the hay must be made, whether or not.</p> + +<p>A few light showers fell, refreshing the thirsty soil, and +making the trees and hedgerows rejoice in a livelier green. +It was as if Summer were overjoyed:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanzawide"> +<span class="i0">“Even when she weeps, as oft she will, though surely not for grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tears are turned to diamond drops on every shining leaf.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>so our walk of four miles to Bolton Castle was the more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +agreeable. The old square building, with its four square +towers rising above a mass of wood, looks well as you approach +from the road; and when you come upon the eminence +on which it stands, and see the little village of Bolton, little +thatched cottages bordering the green, as old in appearance as +the castle, it is as if you looked on a scene from the feudal +ages—the rude dwellings of the serfs pitched for safety beneath +the walls, as in the days of Richard Lord Scrope, who +built the castle four hundred years ago. A considerable portion +of the edifice is still habitable; some of the rooms look +really comfortable; others are let as workshops to a tinker +and glazier, and down in the vaults you see the apparatus for +casting sheet-lead. We saw the room in which the hapless +Mary was confined, and the window by which, as is said, she +tried, but failed, to escape. We went to the top, and looked +over into the inner court; and got a bird’s-eye view of the +village and of Bolton Park and Hall, amid the wooded landscape; +and then to the bottom, down damp stone stairs, to +what seemed the lowest vault, where, however, there was a +lower depth—the dungeon—into which we descended by a +ladder. What a dismal abode! of gloom too dense for one +feeble candle to enliven. The man who showed the way said +there was a well in one corner; but I saw nothing except +that that spot looked blacker than the rest. To think that +such a prison should have been built in the “good old +times!”</p> + +<p>On leaving the village, an old woman gave me a touch of +the broadest dialect I had yet heard: “Eh! is ye boun into +Swawldawl?” she exclaimed, in reply to my inquiry. We +were going into Swaledale, and, taking a byeway above the +village of Redmire, soon came to a road leading up the dale to +Reeth, into which my friend turned, while I went on to the +northern slope of Wensleydale. You ascend by a steep, +winding road to Scarthe Nick, the pass on the summit, and +there you have a glorious prospect—many a league of hill and +hollow, of moor and meadow. From Bolton Castle and its +little dependency, which lie well under the eye, you can look +down the dale and catch sight of the ruined towers of Middleham; +Aysgarth Force reveals itself by a momentary quivering +flash; and scattered around, seven churches and eight villages, +more or less environed by woods, complete the landscape. +The scene, with its wealth of quiet beauty, is one suggestive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +of peace and well-being, dear to the Englishman’s heart. To +one coming suddenly upon it from the dreary moorlands which +lie between Wensleydale and Richmond, there would be something +of enchantment in the far-spreading view.</p> + +<p>I turned my back on it at last, and followed the road across +the moors, where the memory of what you have just left +becomes fairer by contrast. The route is solitary, and apparently +but little frequented, for in ten miles I met only a +man and a boy; and the monotony is only relieved after a +while by a falling away of the brown slopes on the right, +opening a view of the Hambleton Hills. There is one public-house +on the way, the <i>Halfpenny House</i>, down in a hollow, by +no means an agreeable resting-place, especially for a hungry +man with a liking for cleanliness. Not far from it is Hart-Leap +Well, sung by Wordsworth:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“There’s neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will wet his lips within that cup of stone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oftentimes when all are fast asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This water doth send forth a dolorous groan.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>By-and-by, perhaps, ere you have done thinking of the +poem, you come to the brow of a long declivity, the end of the +moors, and are rewarded by a view which rivals that seen +from Scarthe Nick. Swaledale opens before you, overspread +with waving fields of grain, with numerous farmsteads +scattered up and down, with a long range of cliff breaking +the opposite slope, and, about four miles distant, Richmond on +its lofty seat, crowned by the square castle-keep, tall and +massive. I saw it lit by the afternoon sun, and needed no +better invitation for a half-hour’s halt on the heathery bank.</p> + +<p>You descend to the wheat-fields, and see no more of the +town until close upon it. Swale, as you will notice while +crossing the bridge, still shows the characteristics of a mountain +stream, though broader and deeper than at Thwaite, +where we last parted company with it. Very steep is the +grass-grown street leading from the river up to the main part +of the town, where, having found a comfortable public-house, +I went at once to the castle. It occupies the summit of a +bluff, which, rising bold and high from the Swale, commands +a noble prospect over what Whitaker calls “the Piedmont of +Richmondshire.” On the side towards the river, the walls are +all broken and ruinous, with here and there a loophole or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +window opening, through which you may look abroad on the +landscape, and ponder on the changes which have befallen +since Alan the Red built a fortress here on the lands given to +him in reward for prowess by the Conqueror. It was in 1071 +that he began to fortify, and portions of his masonry yet +remain, fringed with ivy and tufts of grass, and here and there +the bugloss growing from the crevices. Perhaps while you +saunter to and fro in the castle-garth the keeper will appear +and tell you—though not without leave—his story of the +ruins. If it will add to your pleasure, he will show you the +spot where George IV. sat when Prince of Wales, and +declared the prospect to be the finest he had ever beheld. +You will be told which is Robin Hood’s Tower, which the +Gold Tower—so called because of a tradition that treasure +was once discovered therein—and which is Scolland’s Hall, +where knights, and nobles, and high-born dames held their +banquets. And here you will be reminded of Fitzhughs and +Marmions, Randolph de Glanville, and William the Lion, of +Nevilles and Scropes, and of the Lennox—a natural son of +Charles II.—to whom the dukedom of Richmond was given +by the merry monarch, and to whose descendants it still +belongs.</p> + +<p>One side of the garth is enclosed by a new building to be +used as barracks or a military depōt, and near this, at the +angle towards the town, rises the keep. What a mighty tower +it is! ninety-nine feet high, the walls eleven feet thick, +strengthened on all sides by straight buttresses, an impressive +memorial of the Normans. It was built by Earl Conan, +seventy-five years after Red Alan’s bastions. The lowest +chamber is dark and vaulted, with the rings still remaining +to which the lamps were hung, and a floor of natural rock +pierced by the old well. The chief entrance is now on the +first floor, to which you mount by an outer stair, and the first +things you see on entering are the arms and accoutrements of +the Yorkshire militia, all carefully arranged. The view from +the top delights your eye by its variety and extent—a great +sweep of green hills and woods, the winding dale, and beyond, +the brown heights that stretch away to the mountains. You +see the town and all its picturesque features: the towers of +St. Mary’s and of the old Gray Friars’ monastery, and Trinity +Chapel at one side of the market-place, now desecrated by an +intrusion of petty merchandise. And, following the course of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +the river downwards, you can see in the meadows among the +woods the ruins of the Abbey of St. Agatha, at Easby. A +few miles farther, and the stream flows past Catterick, the +Cattaractonium of the Romans; and Bolton-on-Swale, the +burial-place of old Jenkins.</p> + +<p>On leaving the castle, make your way down to the path +which runs round the face of the precipice below the walls, +yet high enough above the river for pleasing views: a good +place for an evening stroll. Then descend to a lower level, +and look back from the new bridge near the railway station; +you will be charmed with the singularly picturesque view of +the town, clustered all along the hill-top, and terminated by +the imposing mass of ruins and the lordly keep. And there +is something to be seen near at hand: the station, built in +Gothic style, pleasantly situate among trees; St. Martin’s +Cell, founded more than seven hundred years ago, now sadly +dilapidated, and used as a cow-stall. Beyond, on the slope +of the hill, stands the parish church, with a fine lofty tower; +and near it are the old grammar school, famous for good +scholars; and the Tate Testimonial, a handsome Gothic +edifice, with cloisters, where the boys play in rainy weather. +It was in that churchyard that Herbert Knowles wrote the +poem</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Methinks it is good to be here,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>which has long kept his name in memory.</p> + +<p>Turn into the path on the left near the bridge, follow it +through the wood which hangs on the slope above the river, +then between the meadows and gardens, and past the mill, and +you come to Easby Abbey, a charming ruin in a charming spot. +You see a gentle eminence, rich in noble trees—the “abbot’s +elm” among them—with a mansion on the summit, and in +the meadow at the foot the group of ruins, not so far from the +river but that you can hear it murmuring briskly along its +stony channel. They occupy a considerable space, and the +longer you wander from kitchen to refectory, from oratory to +chapter-house, under broken arches, from one weedy heap of +masonry to another, the more will you become aware of their +picturesque beauties. The effect is heightened by magnificent +masses of ivy, and trees growing out from the gaping stones, +and about the grounds, screening and softening the ancient +walls with quivering verdure. Here, for centuries, was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +burial-place of the Scropes, that powerful family who became +possessors of Easby not long after the death of Roald, constable +of Richmond, founder of the abbey in 1152. Hence +the historical associations impart a deeper interest to the loveliness +of nature and the beauty of architecture.</p> + +<p>The gate-house, also mantled with ivy, stands isolated in +the meadow beyond, and Easby church between it and the +ruins. And a pretty little church it is—a very jewel. Ivy +creeps over it, and apparently through it, for a thick stem +grows out of the wall three feet from the ground. Above the +porch you may see three carved shields, time-worn memorials +of Conyers, Aske, and Scrope.</p> + +<p>To linger here while the sun went down, and the shadows +darkened behind the walls, and the glory streamed through +the blank windows, was a rare enjoyment. It was dusk when +I returned to the town, and there I finished with another +stroll on the path under the castle, thinking of the ancient +legend, and wishing for a peep at the mysterious vault where +King Arthur’s warriors lie asleep. Long, long ago, a man, +while wandering about the hill, was conducted into an underground +vault by a mysterious personage, and there he saw to +his amazement a great multitude lying in deep slumber. Ere +he recovered, his guide placed in his hands a horn and a +sword; he drew the blade half out of the sheath, when lo! +every sleeper stirred as if about to awake, and the poor mortal, +terror-stricken, loosed his hold, the sword slid back, and the +opportunity of release was lost, to recur no more for many a +long day. The unlucky wight heard as he crept forth a +bitter voice crying:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Potter, Potter Thompson!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou had either drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sword or blown that horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou’d been the luckiest man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever was born.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>By nine o’clock the next morning I was in Ripon, having +been obliged to content myself with a glimpse of Northallerton +from the railway; and to forego a ramble to the +Standard Hill. I was soon on the top of the minster tower +looking abroad on the course of the Ure, no longer a dale, as +where we last saw it, but a broad vale teeming with corn, and +adorned with woods, conspicuous among which are the broad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +forest-like masses of Studley Royal—the site of Fountains +Abbey. Norton Conyers, the seat of the Nortons, whose +names figure in Wordsworth’s poem, lies a few miles up the +stream; and a few miles in the other direction are Boroughbridge +and Aldborough, once important British and Roman +stations. There the base Cartismandua, betrayer of Caractacus, +held her court? there the vast rude camp of the legions grew +into a sumptuous city; and there was fought one of the +battles of the Roses, fatal to Lancaster; and there for years +was a stronghold of the boroughmongers. The horizon no +longer shows a ring of bleak moorlands, but green swells and +wood all round to the east, where the hills of Cleveland +terminate the view.</p> + +<p>Then, while sauntering on the floor of the stately edifice +we may remember that in 661 the King of Northumbria gave +a piece of land here to one of his abbots for the foundation +of a religious house: that Wilfrid, the learned bishop, +replaced the first modest structure by a magnificent monastery, +which the heathen Danes burnt and wasted in 860; but +Wilfrid, who was presently created Archbishop of York, soon +rebuilt his church, surpassing the former in magnificence, +and by his learning and resolute assertion of his rights won, +for himself great honour, and a festival day in the calendar. +The anniversary of his return from Rome whither he went +to claim his privileges, is still celebrated in Ripon, by a +procession as little accordant with modern notions as that +which perpetuates Peeping Tom’s infamous memory at +Coventry. The present edifice was built by Roger of Bishopbridge, +Archbishop of York in the twelfth century, and +renowned for his munificence; but the variations of style—two +characters of Norman, and Perpendicular, and a medley in +the window, still show how much of the oldest edifice was +incorporated with the new, and the alterations at different +times.</p> + +<p>The crypt is believed to be a portion of the church built by +Wilfrid; to reach it you must pass through narrow, darksome +passages, and when there, the guide will not fail to show you +the hole known as Wilfrid’s needle—a needle of properties as +marvellous as the garment offered to the ladies of King +Arthur’s court—for no unchaste maiden can pass through the +eye. The bone-house and a vault, walled and paved with +human bones, still exists; and the guide, availing himself of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +a few extraordinary specimens, still delivers his lecture surrounded +by ghastly accompaniments.</p> + +<p>Without seeing the minster, you would guess Ripon to be +a cathedral town; it has the quiet, respectable air which +befits the superiorities of the church. The market cross is +a tall obelisk, and if you happen to be near it at nine in the +evening, you will, perhaps, think of the sonorous custom at +Bainbridge, for one of the constables blows three blasts on +the horn every night at the mayor’s door, and three more +by the market cross. And so the days of Victoria witness +a custom said to have been begun in the days of Alfred. +The horn is an important instrument in Ripon; it was +brought out and worn on feasts and ceremonial days by the +“wakeman,” or a serjeant; certain of the mayors have taken +pride in beautifying it, and supplying a new belt, and the +town arms show a golden horn and black belt ornamented +with silver.</p> + +<p>At Beverley there are few signs of visitors; here, many, +attracted by Fountains Abbey. Carriage after carriage laden +with sight-seers rattled past as I walked to Studley, a distance +of nearly three miles. Even at the toll-bar on the way you +can buy guide-books, as well as ginger-beer. Beyond the +gate you may leave the road for a field-path, which crosses +the street of Studley, and brings you to a short cut through +the park. Soon we come to the magnificent beechen avenue, +and standing at the upper end we see a long green walk, with +the minster in the distance, and beyond that the dark wold. +Then by another avenue on the left we approach the lake and +the lodge, where you enter your name in a book, pay a shilling, +and are handed over, with the party that happens to be waiting, +to the care of a guide. He leads you along broad gravelled +paths, between slopes of smooth green turf, flower-beds, +shrubberies, rock work, and plantations, to vistas terminated +by statues, temples, and lakes filled with coffee-coloured water. +To me, the trees seemed more beautiful than anything else; +and fancy architecture looked poor by the side of tall beeches, +larches, and magnificent Norway pines. And I could not +help wishing that Earl de Grey, to whom the estate belongs, +would abolish the puerile theatrical trick called <i>The Surprise</i>. +Arrived on the brow of an eminence, which overlooks the +valley of the little river Skell, you are required to stand two +or three yards in the rear of a wooden screen. Then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +guide, with a few words purporting, “Now, you shall see +what you shall see,” throws open the doors of the screen, and +Fountains Abbey appears in the hollow below. As if the +view of such a ruin could be improved by artifice!</p> + +<p>Then a descent to Robin Hood’s Well—a spring of delicious +water, which you will hardly pass without quaffing a draught +to the memory of the merry outlaw. And now we are near +the ruin, and, favoured by the elevation of the path, can +overlook at once all the ground plan, the abbot’s quarters—under +which the Skell flows through an arched channel—the +dormitory, the refectory, the lofty arches of the church, and +the noble tower rising to a height of one hundred and sixty-six +feet.</p> + +<p>We were admiring the great extent and picturesque effects +of the ruins, when a harsh whistle among the trees on the +left struck up <i>Pop goes the Weasel</i>; singularly discordant in +such a place. I could not help saying that the whistler +deserved banishment, to the edge of the park at least—when +the guide answered, “Yes, but he blows the whistle with his +nose.” If Earl de Grey would abolish that nosing of a vulgar +melody, as well as <i>The Surprise</i>, many a visitor would feel +grateful.</p> + +<p>Presently we cross the bridge, and there are the yew-trees, +one of which sheltered the pious monks, who, scandalized by +the lax discipline of the brethren in the Benedictine Abbey of +St. Mary’s, at York, separated from them, migrated hither in +December, 1132, and lived for some months, enduring great +privations, with no other roof but the trees. Skelldale was +then a wild and desolate spot; but the Cistercians persevered; +Thurstan befriended them, and in course of years one of the +grandest monastic piles that England could boast arose in the +meadow bordering the narrow stream. Its roll of abbots +numbers thirty-nine names, some of high distinction, whose +tombs may yet be seen.</p> + +<p>After taking you aside to look at Fountains Hall, a Tudor +mansion, the guide leads the way to the cloisters, and, unlocking +a door, admits you to the interior of the ruins. The view +of the nave, with its Norman pillars and arches extending for +nearly two hundred feet, is remarkably imposing; and as you +pace slowly over the soft green carpet into the transept, thence +to the choir and Lady chapel, each more beautiful than the +last, you experience unwonted emotions of delight and sur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>prise. +Once within the Lady chapel, you will hardly care to +leave it for any other portion of the ruins, until the door is +unlocked for departure.</p> + +<p>The return route is on the opposite side of the valley to +that by which you approach. From a hollow in the cliff, a +little way on, you may, on turning to take a last look of the +ruins, waken a clearly articulate echo; but, alas! the lurking +voice is made to utter overmuch nonsense. What would the +devout monks say could they hear it? However, if history +is to be depended on, even they were not perfect; for towards +the close of their career, they fell into evil ways, and became +a reproach. As we read:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“In summer time, when leaves grow green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flowers are fresh and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robin Hood and his merry men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were disposed to play.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And when Robin, overjoyed at Little John’s skill, exclaims +that he would ride a hundred miles to find one to match him,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“That caused Will Scadlocke to laugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He laught full heartily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lives a curtall fryer in Fountaines Abbey<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will beate both him and thee.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A right sturdy friar, who with his fifty dogs kept Robin and +his fifty men at bay, until Little John’s shooting brought him +to terms:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“This curtall fryer had kept Fountaines dale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seven long yeares and more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was neither knight, lord, nor earle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could make him yeeld before.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Of old Jenkins, it is recorded that he was once steward to +Lord Conyers, who used to send him at times with a message +to the Abbot of Fountains Abbey; and that the abbot always +gave him, “besides wassel, a quarter of a yard of roast beef +for his dinner, and a great black jack of strong beer.” The +Abbot of Fountains was one of three Yorkshire abbots beheaded +on Tower-hill for their share in the <i>Pilgrimage of +Grace</i>.</p> + +<p>Judging from the one to whom we were allotted, the +guides are civil, and not uninformed as to the traditions and +history of Studley Royal and its neighbourhood. They are +instructed not to lose sight of their party, and to conduct<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +them only by the prescribed paths. So there is no opportunity +for wandering at will, or a leisurely meditation among +the ruins.</p> + +<p>I walked back to the railway-station at Ripon, and journeyed +thence to Thirsk, where a pleasant stroll finished the +evening. Of the castle of the Mowbrays—the rendezvous +of the English troops when marching to the Battle of the +Standard—the site alone remains on the south-west of the +town. The chantry, founded by one of the Mowbrays in +Old Thirsk, has also disappeared. And the great tree that +stood on the green in the same suburb has gone too. It was +under the tree on Thirsk green, and not at Topcliffe, as some +say, that the fourth Earl Percy was massacred; certain it is, +that the elections of members to serve in Parliament were +held under the wide-spreading branches even from the earliest +times. It was burnt down in 1818 by a party of boys who +lit a fire in the hollow trunk. But the ugly old shambles had +not disappeared from the market-place: their destruction, +however, so said the bookseller, was imminent.</p> + +<p>The church, dating from the fifteenth century, has recently +been restored, and well repays an examination. Among the +epitaphs on the tombstones, I noticed a variation of the old +familiar strain:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Afflictions sore he long time bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which wore his strength away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That made him long for heavenly rest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which never will decay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And another, a curiosity in its way:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Corruption, Earth, and worms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall but refine this flesh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till my triumphant spirit comes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To put it on A fresh.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Sutton: a pretty Village—The Hambleton Hills—Gormire Lake—Zigzags—A +Table-Land—Boy and Bull Pup—Skawton—Ryedale—Rievaulx Abbey—Walter +L’Espec—A Charming Ruin—The Terrace—The Pavilion—Helmsley—T’ Boos—Kirkby +Moorside—Helmsley Castle—A River swallowed—Howardian +Hills—Oswaldkirk—Gilling—Fairfax Hall—Coxwold—Sterne’s +Residence—York—The Minster Tower—Yorke, Yorke, for my monie—The +Four Bars—The City Walls—The Ouse Legend—Yorkshire Philosophical +Society—Ruins and Antiquities—St. Mary’s Lodge.</p> + +<p>The morning dawns with promise of a glorious day, and of +glad enjoyment for us in our coming walk. Our route will +lead us through a rich and fertile region to the Hambleton +Hills—the range which within the past two weeks has so +often terminated our view with its long blue elevations. We +shall see another ruin—Rievaulx Abbey, and another old +castle at Helmsley—and if all go well, shall sleep at night +within the walls of York.</p> + +<p>A few miles on the way and we come to Sutton, a pretty +village, where nearly every house has its front garden bright +with flowers, with tall proud lilies here and there, and standard +roses. And every lintel and door-sill is decorated with +yellow ochre, and a border of whitewash enlivens even the +humblest window. And the inside of the cottages is as clean +as the outside, and some have the front room papered. It +is truly an English village, for no other country can show the +like.</p> + +<p>Now the hills stand up grandly before us, showing here +and there a scar above the thick woods that clothe their base. +The road rises across the broken ground: we come to a lane +on the left, marked by a limekiln, and following it upwards +between ferny banks and tangled hedges, haunted by the +thrush, we arrive presently at Gormire Lake, a pretty sheet +of water, reposing in a hollow at the foot of Whitstoncliffe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +It is best seen from the bold green bank at the upper end, for +there you face the cliff and the hill which rises behind it, +covered with copse and bracken. The lake is considerably +above the base of the hill, and appears to have been formed +by a landslip; it is tenanted by fish, and has, as I heard subsequently +at York, a subterranean outlet somewhere among +the fallen fragments at the foot of the cliff.</p> + +<p>Returned to the road, we have now to ascend sharp alpine +zigzags, for the western face of Hambleton is precipitous; and +within a short distance the road makes a rise of eight hundred +feet. The increasing ascent and change of direction opens a +series of pleasing views, and as you look now this way, now +that, along the diversified flanks of the hills, you will wish for +more time to wander through such beautiful scenery. All +that comparatively level country below was once covered by a +sea, to which the hills we now stand on opposed a magnificent +shore-line of cliffs; some of their summits more than a +thousand feet in height.</p> + +<p>Great is the contrast when you arrive on the brow: greenness +and fertility suddenly give place to a bleak table-land, +where the few patches of cultivation appear but meagre amid +acres of brown ling. We have taken a great step upwards +into a shrewish region. That white patch seen afar is a hunting +and training colony, and there go two grooms riding, followed +by a pack of hounds. What a chilly-looking place! A back +settlement in Michigan could hardly be more lonely. The +boys may well betake themselves for amusement to the education +of dogs. Was it here, I wonder, that the Yorkshire boy +lived who had a bull pup, in the training of which he took +great delight? One day, seeing his father come into the yard, +the youngster said, “Father, you go down on your hands and +knees and blare like a bull, and see what our pup’ll do.” The +parent complied; but while he was doing his best to roar like +a bull, the dog flew at him and seized him by the lip. Now +the man roared in earnest, and tried to shake off his tormentor, +while the boy, dancing in ecstacy, cried, “Bear it, father! +bear it! It’ll be the makin’ o’ t’ pup.”</p> + +<p>By-and-by comes a descent, and the road drops suddenly +into a deep glen, crowded with luxuriant woods. Many a +lovely view do we get here, as the windings of the road bring +us to wider openings and broader slopes of foliage. We pass +the hamlet of Skawton; a brook becomes our companion, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +woods still shut us in when we cross the Rye, a shallow, +lively stream, and get a view from the bridge up Ryedale.</p> + +<p>A short distance up the stream brings us to the little village +of Rivas—as the country folk call it—and to Rievaulx Abbey. +The civil old woman who shows the way into the ruin, will +tell you that Lord Feversham does not like to see visitors get +over the fence; and then, stay as long as you will, she leaves +you undisturbed. What a pleasure awaits you!—a charm +which Bolton and Fountains failed alike to inspire: perhaps +because of the narrowness of the dale, and the feeling of deep +seclusion imparted by the high thickly wooded hills on each +side, the freedom allowed to vegetation in and around the +place, and to your own movements. The style is Early English, +and while surveying the massive clustered columns that +once supported the tower, the double rows of arches, and the +graceful windows now draped with ivy of the nave, you will +restore the light and beautiful architecture in imagination, and +not without a wish that Time would retrace his flight just for +one hour, and show you the abbey in all its primitive beauty, +when Ryedale was “a place of vast solitude and horror,” as +the old chronicler says.</p> + +<p>Walter L’Espec, Lord of the Honour of Helmsley, a baron +of high renown in his day, grieving with his wife, the Lady +Adeline, over the death of their only son by a fall from a +horse, built a priory at Kirkham, the scene of the accident, +and in 1131 founded here an abbey for Cistercian monks. +And here after some years, during which he distinguished +himself at the Battle of the Standard, he took the monastic +vows, and gave himself up to devout study and contemplation +until his death in 1153. And then he was buried in the +glorious edifice which he had raised to the service of God, +little dreaming that in later days when, fortress and church +would be alike in ruins, other men would come with different +thoughts, though perhaps not purer aims, and muse within +the walls where he had often knelt in prayer, and admire his +work, and respect his memory.</p> + +<p>Much remains to delight the eye; flying buttresses, clerestory +windows, corbels, capitals, and mouldings, some half +buried in the rank grass and nettles. And how the clustering +masses of ivy heighten the beauty! One of the stems, that +seems to lend strength to the great column against which it +leans, is more than three feet in circumference, and bears aloft<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +a glorious green drapery. An elder grows within the nave, +contributing its fair white blossoms to the fulness of beauty. +The refectory, too, is half buried with ivy, and there you +walk on what was once the floor of the crypt, and see the remains +of the groins that supported the floor above: and there +at one side is the recess where one of the monks used to read +aloud some holy book while the others sat at dinner. Adjoining +the refectory is a paddock enclosed by ash-trees, which +appears to have been the cloister court. Now the leaves rustle +overhead, and birds chirrup in the branches, and swallows flit +in and out, and through the openings once filled by glass that +rivalled the rainbow in colour.</p> + +<p>For two hours did I wander and muse; now sitting in the +most retired nook, now retreating to a little distance to find +out the best points of view. And my first impression strengthened; +and I still feel that of all the abbeys Rievaulx is the +one I should like to see again. But the day wore on, and +warned me, though reluctant, to depart.</p> + +<p>A small fee to the quiet old woman makes her thankful, and +prompts her to go and point out the path by which you mount +zigzagging through the thick wood to the great terrace near +the summit of the hill. It will surprise you to see a natural +terrace smooth and green as a lawn, of considerable width, and +half a mile in length; that is, the visible extent, for it stretches +farther round the heights towards Helmsley. At one end +stands a pavilion, decorated in the interior with paintings, at +the other a domed temple, and from all the level between you +get a glorious prospect up Ryedale—up the dale by which we +came from Thirsk, and over leagues of finely-wooded hills, to +a rim of swarthy moorland. And beneath, as in a nest, the +ancient ruin and the little village repose in the sunshine, and +the rapid river twinkles with frequent curves through the +meadows.</p> + +<p>The gardener who lives in the basement of the pavilion will +show you the paintings and a small pamphlet, in which the +subjects are described; and perhaps tell you that the family +used to come over at times from Duncombe Park and dine in +the ornamented chamber. He will request you, moreover, to +be careful to shut the gate by which you leave the terrace at +a break in the shrubbery.</p> + +<p>The road is at the edge of the next field, and leads us in +about an hour to Helmsley, a quiet rural town very pleasantly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +situated beneath broad slopes of wood. It has a good church, +a few quaint old houses, some still covered with thatch, a +brook running along the street, a market cross, and a relic of +the castle built by De Roos, when Yorkshire still wept the +Conquest.</p> + +<p>It had surprised me while on the way from Thirsk to find +more difficulty in understanding the rustic dialect than in the +remoter parts of the north and west. The same peculiarities +prevail here in the town; and the landlord’s daughter, who +waited on me at the house where I dined, professed a difficulty +in understanding me. My question about the omnibus +for Gilling completely puzzled her for a few minutes, until +light dawned on her, and she exclaimed joyfully, “Oh! ye +mean t’ boos!”</p> + +<p>A few miles east of Helmsley is Kirkby Moorside, where the +proud Duke of Buckingham died, though not “in the worst +inn’s worst room;” and near it is Kirkdale, with its antiquated +church, and the famous cave in which the discovery of +the bones of wild animals some thirty years ago established a +new epoch for geologists. From Kirkby you can look across to +the hilly moors behind Whitby; and if you incline to explore +farther, Castle Howard will repay a visit, and you may go +and look into the gorge through which the Derwent flows, at +Malton, keeping in mind what geologists tell us, that if the +gorge should happen to be closed by any convulsion, the Vale +of Pickering would again become a sea.</p> + +<p>Of Helmsley Castle the remains are but fragmentary; a +portion of the lofty keep stands on an eminence, around which +you may still trace the hollows once filled by the triple moat. +The gateway is comparatively sound, the barbican is sadly +dilapidated; and within other parts of the old walls which +have been repaired, Lord Feversham’s tenants assemble once +a year to pay their rents. The ruin is so pleasantly embowered +by trees and ivy, so agreeable for a lounge on a July +day, that I regretted being summoned away too soon by “t’ +boos” driver’s horn. There was no time for a look at Feversham +House, about half a mile distant, nor for a few miles’ +walk to Byland Abbey—another Cistercian edifice—founded in +1143 by Roger de Mowbray. I could only glance at the +skirts of the park, where preparations were making for a +flower-show, and at the shield on the front of the lodge, +bearing the motto, <i>Deo, Regi, Patrię</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Rye here is a smaller stream than at Rievaulx, owing +to the loss of water by the ‘swallows’ in Duncombe Park; +half a mile lower down it reappears in full current. But the +driver is impatient; we shall be too late for the train at Gilling, +and the steep Howardian Hills are to be crossed on the +way. Fine views open over the woods; then we leave the +trees for a while; a vast prospect appears of the Vale of York, +and at Oswaldkirk—a picturesque village—the road falling +rapidly brings us once more into a wooded region, and in due +time we come to Gilling, on the branch railway to Malton.</p> + +<p>There was not time, or I would have run up the hill behind +the station to look at the noble avenue of beeches that forms a +worthy approach to Fairfax Hall—the home of a family venerated +by all who love liberty. I felt an emotion of regret +when the station-clerk told me that the present Fairfax is an +aged man and childless; for ere long the name will disappear, +and the estate become a possession of the Cholmleys.</p> + +<p>The train arrives; five miles on it stops at Coxwold, where +Sterne passed seven years of his life; then two leagues more, +and we have to wait ninety minutes for a train down from +the north, at Pilmoor junction—a singularly unattractive spot. +Luckily I had a book in my knapsack, and so beguiled the +time till the bell rang that summoned us to York.</p> + +<p>In my wanderings I have sometimes had the curiosity to +try a <i>Temperance Hotel</i>, and always repented it, because experience +showed that temperance meant poor diet, stingy +appliances, and slovenly accommodations. So it was not without +misgivings that I resolved to make one more experiment, +and see what temperance meant in the metropolis of Yorkshire. +The <i>Hotel</i>, which did not displease me, looks into Micklegate, +not far from the Bar on which the heads of dukes and nobles +were impaled, as mentioned in the <i>Lay of Towton Field</i>.</p> + +<p>Considering how many quartos have been filled with the +history and description of York, into how many little books +the big books have been condensed, every traveller is supposed +to know as much as he desires concerning the ancient +city, ere he visits it. For one who has but a day to spare, +the best way of proceeding is of course to get on the top of +the minster tower, and stay there until his memory is refreshed +by the sight of what he sees below. At a height of +two hundred feet above the pavement you can overlook the +great cluster of clean red roofs, and single out the twenty-five<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +churches that yet remain of the fifty once visible from this +same elevation. Clifford’s Tower, a portion of the old castle, +stands now within the precincts of the gaol; the line of the +city walls can be seen, and the situation of the four Bars; +there, by the river, is the Guildhall where King Charles was +purchased from the Scots; there the small river Foss, that +rises in the Howardian Hills, and once filled the Roman +ditches, joins the Ouse. Outside the walls, Severus Hill +marks the spot where the emperor, who died here in 210, was +burnt on his funeral pile with all the honours due to a wearer +of the purple; another hill shows where Scrope was beheaded. +To the south lies Bishopthorpe, the birthplace of Guy +Fawkes, and residence of the bishops. Eastward is Stamford +Brig, where the hard Norwegian king, flushed with +victory, lost the battle and his life—where the spoil in gold +ornaments was so great, “that twelve young men could hardly +carry it upon their shoulders”—whence the victor Harold +marched to lose in turn life and crown at Hastings. On the +west lies Marston Moor, and farther to the south-west the +field of Towton. And then, from wandering afar over the +broad vale, your eye returns to the minster itself, and looks +down on all its properties, and comfortable residences, snug +gardens, and plots of greenest turf, all covering ground on +which the Romans built their camp, and where they erected +a temple for the worship of heathen deities.</p> + +<p>As regards the interior, whatever may have been your +emotions of admiration or wonder in other cathedrals, they +become fuller and deeper in this of York. After two long +visits, I still wished for more time to pace again the lofty +aisles, to hear the organ’s rolling notes, while marvelling at +the glory of architecture.</p> + +<p>In Roger North’s time, as he relates, the interior of the +cathedral was the favourite resort of fashionable strollers: in +an earlier time, when archery was practised keenly as rifle-shooting +in our day, and the prophecy as to the pre-eminence +of York was not yet forgotten, a ballad was written in praise +of the city: thus</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The Maior of Yorke, with his companie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were all in the fieldes, I warrant ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see good rule kept orderly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if it had been at London.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which was a dutifull sight to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Maior and Aldermen there to bee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the setting forth of Archerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As well as they doe at London.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Yorke, Yorke, for my monie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all the citties that ever I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mery pastime & companie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Except the cittie of London.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>From the minster walk as far as may be along the city +walls: you will see the four Bars—Monk, Micklegate, Walmgate, +and Bootham; the first-named still retaining the barbican. +In some of the narrow lanes near the water-side you +may discover old mansions, the residences of the magnates of +York two hundred years ago, now tenanted by numbers of +working-people, and grand staircases and panelled rooms, +looking dingy and squalid. Then go forth and take a turn +under the trees of the New Walk on the bank of the Ouse, +and see a much-frequented resort of the citizens, who certainly +cannot boast that their environs are romantic. You +would hardly believe that the stream flowing so placidly by +embosoms the rapid rivers we crossed so often while in the +mountains. If legends deceive not, any one who came and +threw five white pebbles into a certain part of the Ouse as +the hour of one struck on the first morning of May, would +then see everything he desired to see, past, present, and to +come, on the surface of the water. Once a knight returning +from the wars desired to see how it fared with his lady-love: +he threw in the pebbles, and beheld the home of the maiden, +a mansion near Scarborough, and a youth wearing a mask +and cloak descending from her window, and the hiding of +the ladder by the serving-man. Maddened by jealousy, he +mounted and rode with speed; his horse dropped dead in +sight of the house; he saw the same youth ascending the +ladder, rushed forward, and stabbed him to the heart. It +was his betrothed. She was not faithless; still loved her +knight, and had only been to a masquerade. For many a day +thereafter did the knight’s anguish and remorse appear as the +punishment of unlawful curiosity in the minstrel’s lay and +gestour’s romance.</p> + +<p>Return, and take a walk in that pleasant ground, half park, +half garden, which we saw from the tower, and see how +enviable a site has fallen to the Yorkshire Philosophical +Society for their museum. To have such a scope of smooth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +green turf, flower-beds, shrubs, and trees in the heart of a +city, as the shelter of remarkable antiquities and scientific +collections, is a rare privilege. At one side stand the remains +of St. Leonard’s Hospital—Norman and early English—sheltering, +when I saw it, something far, far more ancient +than itself—a huge fossil saurian. The ruins of St. Mary’s +Abbey appear on the other side; and between the two the +Doric edifice, containing the museum, library, and offices of +the Society. In another part of the grounds, the Hospitium of +the monks, which in a country village would pass for a +medięval barn, now contains the admirable collection of +Roman and British antiquities for which York is celebrated. +Seeing the numerous tiles stamped with Latin words and +numerals, the tombs and altars, the household utensils, and +personal ornaments, your idea of the Roman occupation will, +perhaps, become more vivid than before; and again, while +you examine the fragment of the wall and tower, supposed to +have been built by Hadrian, strong and solid even after the +lapse of nineteen centuries. And when you look once more +at the Abbey and the Hospital, you will regret the ravages of +plunderers. For years the ruins were worked as a quarry by all +who wanted stone for building purposes, and, as if to accelerate +the waste, great heaps were burnt in a limekiln erected +on the spot; and it is said that stone pillaged from St. Mary’s +at York was used for the repair of Beverley minster.</p> + +<p>However, the spirit of preservation has prevented further +dilapidation, and old Time himself is constrained to do his +wasting imperceptibly. St. Mary’s Lodge, adjoining the +abbey, long neglected, and degraded into a pothouse, was +restored some years ago, and occupied as a residence by +Professor Phillips, whose connexion with the Society will not +soon be forgotten. A charming residence it is; and an evening +and a morning spent within it, enable me to affirm that +its chambers, though clothed in a modern dress, witness hospitality +as generous as that of the monks of the olden time.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">By Rail to Leeds—Kirkstall Abbey—Valley of the Aire—Flight to Settle—Giggleswick—Drunken +Barnaby again—Nymph and Satyr—The astonished +Bagman—What do they Addle?—View from Castleber—George Fox’s +Vision on Pendle Hill—Walk to Maum—Companions—Horse versus +Scenery—Talk by the Way—Little Wit, muckle Work—Malham Tarn—Ale +for Recompense—Malham—Hospitality—Gordale Scar—Scenery versus +Horse—Trap for Trout—A Brookside Musing—Malham Cove—Source of +the Aire—To Keighley.</p> + +<p>On the second morning of my stay in York, after a farewell +visit to the minster, I travelled by rail to Leeds. I had little +time, and, remembering former days, less inclination to tarry +in this great, dismal, cloth-weaving town; so after a passing +glance at the new town-hall, and some other improvements, I +walked through the long, scraggy suburb such as only a busy +manufacturing town can create, to Kirkstall Abbey. This +also was an abode of the Cistercians, founded in 1152 by +Henry de Lacy; and they who can discourse learnedly on +such subjects pronounce it to be, as a ruin, more perfect than +some which we have already visited. But it stands only a +few yards from a black, much-frequented road, and within +sight and hearing of a big forge, and the Aire flows past, not +pellucid, but stained with the refuse liquor of dye-works. +Still the site is not devoid of natural beauty; and an hour +may be agreeably passed in sauntering about the ruin. It +must have been a delightful haunt when Leeds was Loidis in +Elmete.</p> + +<p>I had expected to see the valley of the Aire sprinkled with +the villa residences of the merchants of Leeds; but the busy +traders prefer to live in the town, and in all the nine miles on +the way to Bradford, you have only a succession of factories, +dye-works, and excavations, encroaching on and deforming +the beauty of the valley, while the vegetation betrays signs of +the harmful effect of smoke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the afternoon drew on, I bethought myself that it was +the last day of the week, and a desire came over me for one +more quiet Sunday among the hills. So I turned aside to +Newlay station, and took flight by the first train that came +up for Settle, retracing part of my journey through Craven of +the week before.</p> + +<p>On the way from the station to the town, I made a détour +to Giggleswick, a village that claims notice for its grammar-school, +a fine cliff—part of the Craven fault—and a remarkable +spring. Of his visit to this place Drunken Barnaby +chants:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Thence to Giggleswick most steril,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hem’d with shelves and rocks of peril,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near to th’ way, as a traveller goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fine fresh spring both ebbs and flows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither know the learn’d that travel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What procures it, salt or gravel.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Drayton helps us to a legend which accounts for the origin +of the spring. Suppose we pause for a few minutes to read it. +Coming to this place, he says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“At Giggleswick where I a fountain can you show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That eight times in a day is said to ebb and flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who sometime was a nymph, and in the mountains high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Craven, whose blue heads for caps put on the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst th’ Oreads there, and sylvans made abode<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(It was ere human foot upon those hills had trod),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the mountain kind and since she was most fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a satyr’s chance to see her silver hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow loosely at her back, as up a cliff she clame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beauties noting well, her features, and her frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after her he goes; which when she did espy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before him like the wind the nimble nymph doth fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hurry down the rocks, o’er hill and dale they drive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take her he doth strain, t’ outstrip him she doth strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one his kind that knew, and greatly fear’d his rape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the topick gods by praying to escape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They turn’d her to a spring, which as she then did pant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wearied with her course, her breath grew wondrous scant:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as the fearful nymph, then thick and short did blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now made by them a spring, so doth she ebb and flow.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was supper-time when I came to the <i>Lion</i> at Settle. +A commercial traveller, who was in the town on his first visit, +looked up from his accounts while I sat at table to tell me of +a strange word which he had heard during the day, and with +as much astonishment as if it had been Esquimaux. Indeed, +he had not recovered from his astonishment, and could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +help having a good laugh when he thought of the cause. +Seeing a factory on the outskirts of the town, he asked a girl, +“What do they make in that factory?”</p> + +<p>“What do they addle?” replied the girl, inquiringly. And +ever since he had been repeating to himself, “What do they +addle?” and always with a fresh burst of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Pretty outlandish talk that, isn’t it?” he said, as he +finished his story.</p> + +<p>Settle is a quiet little town, built at the foot of Castleber, +another of the grand cliffs of Craven. To the inhabitants the +huge rock is a recreative resort: seats are placed at its base; +a zigzag path leads to the summit, whence the views over the +valley of the Ribble are very picturesque and pleasing. On +the north-west the broad top of Ingleborough is seen peeping +over an intervening height; Penyghent appears in the north; +and southerly, Pendle Hill rises within the borders of Lancashire. +Very beautiful did the dewy landscape seem to me the +next morning as I sat on the cliff top while the sunlight +increased upon the green expanse.</p> + +<p>“As we travelled,” says George Fox in his <i>Journal</i>, “we +came near a very great hill, called Pendle Hill, and I was +moved of the Lord to go up to the top of it; which I did with +difficulty, it was so very steep and high. When I was come +to the top, I saw the sea bordering upon Lancashire. From the +top of this hill the Lord let me see in what places he had a +great people to be gathered. As I went down, I found a +spring of water in the side of the hill, with which I refreshed +myself, having eaten or drunk but little for several days +before.” The spring is still there, and known in the neighbourhood +as George Fox’s Well.</p> + +<p>After breakfast I set out to walk to Malham, about seven +miles distant, and was mounting the hill at an easy pace behind +the town, when two men came up, and presently told me +they also were going to Maum—as they pronounced it. So we +joined company, all alike strangers to the road, and came soon +to the bye-path of which the ostler at the <i>Lion</i> had advised +me: “It would save a mile or more if I could only find the +way.” A greater attraction for me was, that it led across the +silent pastures on the top of the hills. As I got over the stile, +an old man who was passing strongly urged us to keep the +road; we should be sure to lose ourselves, and happen never +to get to Maum at all. To which I replied, that if a Londoner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +and two Yorkshiremen could not find their way across six +miles of hill-country they deserved to lose it; and away we +went across the field. Ere long we were on breezy slopes, +which, opening here and there on the left, revealed curious +rocky summits beyond, and as we trod the springy turf, my +companions told me they had come by rail from Bentham, and +were going to Malham for no other purpose than to see a horse +which one of them had sent there “to grass” a few weeks +previously. They were as much amused at my admiration of +the scenery as I was at their taking so long a journey to look +at a quadruped. They would not go out of their way to see +Malham Cove, or Gordale Scar, not they: a horse was worth +more than all the scenery. And yet, judging by their dress +and general conversation, they were men in respectable circumstances. +Presently, as we passed a rocky cone springing +all yellow and gray from a bright green eminence, I stopped +and tried to make them understand why it was admirable, +pointing out its form, the contrasts of colour, and its relation to +surrounding objects: “Well!” said one, “I never thought of +that. It do make a difference when you look at it in that way.”</p> + +<p>Neither of them had ever been to London, and what pleased +them most was to hear something about the great city. They +were as full of wonder, and as ready to express it, as children; +and not one of us found the way wearisome. We had taken +a new departure when in sight of Stockdale, a solitary farm-house +down in a hollow, as instructed, and gained a rougher +elevation, when the track, which had become faint, disappeared +altogether, and at a spot where no landmark was in +sight to guide us. “The old man was right,” said the Yorkshiremen; +“we have lost the way;” and they began a debate +as to the course now to be followed. At length one strode off +in a direction that would have taken him in time to the top of +Penyghent. I looked at the sun, and declared for the east. +But no, the other remained resolute in his opinion, and would +not be persuaded. “Let him go,” I said to his companion, +who sided with me; “little wit in the head makes muckle +work for the heels;” and we took a course to the east.</p> + +<p>After a while the other repented, and came panting after +us; and before we had gone half a mile we saw Malham Tarn, +broad and blue, at a distance on the left; then the track reappeared; +then Malham came in sight, lying far down in a +pleasant valley; and then we came into a rough, narrow road,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +descending steeply, and the Yorkshireman acknowledged his +error.</p> + +<p>“Eh! that’s Maum Cove, is it?” he said, as a turn in the +road showed us the head of the valley; “that’s what we’ve +heard so much talk about. Well, it’s a grand scar.” He +seemed to repent of even this morsel of admiration, and helped +his neighbour with strong resolutions not to turn aside and +look up at the cliff from its base.</p> + +<p>We each had a glass of ale at the public-house in the village. +Before I was aware, one of my companions paid for the three, +nor would he on any terms be persuaded otherwise.</p> + +<p>“Hoot, lad,” he rejoined, “say nought about it. I’d pay +ten times as much for the pleasure of your talk.” And with +that he silenced me.</p> + +<p>Although Gordale Scar is not more than a mile from +Malham, they refused to go and see it. However, when we +came to the grazier’s house, and they heard that the Scar lay +in the way to the pasture where the horse was turned out, +they thought they wouldn’t mind taking a look just, as they +went. The good wife brought out bread, cheese, butter, and +a jug of beer, and would have me sit down and partake with +the others; regarding my plea that I was a stranger, and had +just taken a drink, as worthless. A few minutes sufficed, and +then her son accompanied us, for without him the horse would +never be found. We followed a road running along the base +of the precipitous hills which cross the head of the valley, to +a rustic tenement, dignified with the name of Gordale House; +and there turned towards the cliffs by the side of a brook. At +first there is nothing to indicate your approach to anything +extraordinary: you enter a great chasm, where the crags rise +high and singularly rugged, sprinkled here and there with a +small fir or graceful ash, where the bright green turf, sloping +up into all the ins and outs of the dark gray cliff, and the +little brook babbling out towards the sunshine, between great +masses of rock fallen from above, enliven the otherwise gloomy +scene. You might fancy yourself in a great roofless cave; but, +ascending to the rear, you find an outlet, a sudden bend in the +chasm, narrower, and more rocky and gloomy than the entrance. +The cliffs rise higher and overhang fearfully above, +appearing to meet indeed at the upper end; and there, from +that grim crevice, rushes a waterfall. The water makes a +bound, strikes the top of a rock, and, rushing down on each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +side, forms an inverted /\ of splash and foam. And now you +feel that Gordale Scar deserves all the admiration lavished +upon it.</p> + +<p>“Well!” exclaimed one of the Yorkshiremen, “who’d ha’ +thought to see anything like this? And we living all our life +within twenty mile of it! ’Tis a wonderful place.”</p> + +<p>“So, you do believe at last,” I rejoined, “that scenery is +worth looking at, as well as a horse?”</p> + +<p>“That I do. I don’t wonder now that you come all the +way from London to see our hills.”</p> + +<p>We crossed the fall, climbed up the rock into another bend +of the chasm, where the water makes its first plunge, unseen +from below, shut in by crags that wear a sterner frown. You +look up to the summit and see the water tumbling through a +ring of rock, so strangely has the disruptive shock there +broken the cliff. The effect both on ear and eye as the torrent +breaks into spray and dashes downwards in fantastic +channels, is surprisingly impressive.</p> + +<p>Only on one side is the pass accessible, and there so steep +that your hands must aid in the ascent. We scrambled to +the top and found ourselves on the margin of a table-land +sloping gently upwards from the edge of the precipice, so +bestrewn with upheaved rocks and lumps of stone, that but +for the grass which grows rich and sweet between, whereof +the sheep bite gladly, the aspect would indeed be savage. +Along an irregular furrow, as it may be called, which deepens +as it nears the precipice, flows the beck—coming, as the boy +told us, from Malham Tarn. There was another small stream, +he said, which disappeared in a ‘swallow’ on his father’s +pasture; and in that swallow he had many times found large +trout, struggling helplessly in their unexpected trap. And, +pointing to the highest shoulder of the cliff, he said that a +fox, once hard pressed by the hounds, had leaped over, followed +by a dog, and both were killed by the fall.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes of admiration, the Yorkshiremen and +their guide began to move off across the fell, in search of the +horse. One of them hoped we should meet again on the way +back. The other said, “Not much hope o’ that; for he won’t +go away from this till he have learnt it all by heart.” Then +we shook hands, and they promised to set up a pile of stones +at a certain gate on their return, as a signal to me that they +had passed through.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>True enough, I was in no haste to depart, and there was +much to admire as well as “to learn.” The sight of the innumerable +shelves, with their fringe of grass, the diversity of +jagged rocks thrusting their gray heads up into the sunlight, +of the rugged and broken slopes, set me longing for a scramble. +Hither and thither I went; now to a point where I could see +miles of the cliffs, and mark how, in many places, owing to +the splitting and shivering, the limestone wall resembles a row +of organ pipes. Now into a gap all barren and stony with +immemorial screes; where, however, you could hear the faint +tinkle of hidden water, and pulling away the stones, discover +small ferns and pale blades of grass along the course of the +tiny current. Anon, returning to the Scar, I climbed to the +top of the crag that juts midway in the rear of the chasm, +surveying the scene below; then selecting a nook by the side +of the beck, a little above its leap through the ring, I lay +down and watched the water as it ran with innumerable +sparkling cascades from the rise of the fell. Here the solitude +was complete, and the view limited to a few yards of the +hollow water-course patched with green and gray, and the +bright blue sky above.</p> + +<p>And while I lay, soothed by the murmur of the water, +looking up at the great white clouds floating slowly across the +blue, certain thoughts that had haunted me for some days +shaped themselves in order in my brain; and with your +permission, gracious reader, I here produce them:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cloud of care had come across my mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ill-balanced hung the world: here pleasure all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There hopeless toil, and cruel pangs that fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Poverty, to which but death seemed kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, with heart perplexed, I left behind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The crowd of men, the town with smoky pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sought the hills, and breathed the mountain wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath God forgotten then the mean and small?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mused, and gazed o’er purple fells outroll’d;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, lo! beneath an old thatched roof a gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That kindled soon with sunset’s gorgeous gold:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Broad panes, nor fretted oriel brighter beam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If glories thus on lattice rude unfold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of life unlit by Heaven we may not deem.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The sun was beginning to drop towards the west before I +left the pleasant hollow; and then with reluctance, for my +holiday was near its close, and months would elapse before +I should again hear the voice of a mountain brook, and slake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +myself in sunshine. Having returned to the village, I kept +along the river bank to the head of the valley, where copse +and enormous boulders, scattered about the narrow grassy +level and in the bed of the stream, make a fine foreground +to the magnificent limestone cliff of Malham Cove. Rising +sheer to a height of nearly three hundred feet, the precipice +curving inwards, buttressed on each side by woody slopes, +realizes Wordsworth’s description—“semicirque profound;” +and while you look up at its pale marble-like surface, broken +only by a narrow shelf—a stripe of green—accessible to goats +and adventurous boys, you will be ready to say with the bard,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Oh, had this vast theatric structure wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With finished sweep into a perfect round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No mightier work had gained the plausive smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all-beholding Phœbus!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At a distance you might well imagine it to be a towering +ruin, from which Time has not yet gnawed the traces of fallen +chambers and colonnades. And perhaps yet more will +you desire to see the cataract which once came rushing down +in one tremendous plunge from the summit, as is said, owing +to some temporary stoppage of the underground channels. +What a glorious fall that must have been! more than twice +the height of Niagara.</p> + +<p>From a low flat arch at the base of the cliff, about twenty +feet in width, the river Aire rushes out, copiously fed by a +subterranean source. The water sparkles as it flows forth +into the light of day, and begins its course clear and bright +as truth, yet fated to receive many a defilement ere it pours +into the Ouse. Could the Naiads forsee what is to befall, +how piteous would be their lamentations! The stream is at +once of considerable volume, inhabited by trout, and you may +fish at the very mouth of the arch.</p> + +<p>Here, too, I scrambled up and down, crossed and recrossed +the stream, to find all the points of view; then ascending to +the hill-top I traced the line of cliff from the Cove to Gordale. +It is a continuation of that great geological phenomenon already +mentioned—the Craven fault—which, extending yet +farther, terminates near Threshfield, the village by which we +passed last Sunday on our way to Kettlewell.</p> + +<p>My return walk was quiet enough, and favourable to meditation. +The Yorkshiremen had set up the preconcerted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +signal by the gate. I hope the horse did not drive the Scar +quite out of their memory. Perhaps a lasting impression was +made; for “Gordale-chasm” is, as Wordsworth says,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“——terrific as the lair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the young lions couch.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I left Settle by the last evening train, journeying for the +third time over the same ground, and came to the <i>Devonshire +Arms</i> at Keighley just before the doors were locked for the +night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Keighley—Men in Pinafores—Walk to Haworth—Charlotte Brontė’s Birthplace—The +Church—The Pew—The Tombstone—The Marriage Register—Shipley—Saltaire—A +Model Town—Household Arrangements—I isn’t the +Gaffer—A Model Factory—Acres of Floors—Miles of Shafting—Weaving +Shed—Thirty Thousand Yards a Day—Cunning Machinery—First Fleeces—Shipley +Feast—Scraps of Dialect—To Bradford—Rival Towns—Yorkshire +Sleuth-hounds—Die like a Britoner.</p> + +<p>Keighley is not pronounced Kayley, as you might suppose, +but Keatley, or Keithley, as some of the natives have it, +flinging in a touch of the guttural. Like Skipton, it is a +stony town; and, as the tall chimneys indicate, gets its living +by converting wool into wearing apparel of sundry kinds. +You meet numbers of men clad in long blue pinafores, from +throat to instep; wool-sorters, who thus protect themselves +from fluff.</p> + +<p>The factory people were going to work next morning—the +youngsters clattering over the pavement in their wooden +clogs—as I left the town by the Halifax road, for Haworth, +a walk of four miles, and all the way up-hill. The road +runs along one side of a valley, which, when the houses are +left behind, looks pretty with numerous trees and fields of +grass and wheat, and a winding brook, and makes a pleasing +foreground to the view of the town. The road itself is +neither town nor country; the footpaths, as is not uncommon +in Yorkshire, are paved nearly all the way; and houses are +frequent, tenanted by weavers, with here and there a little +shop displaying oaten bread. An hour of ascent and you +come to a cross-road, where, turning to the right for about a +furlong, you see Haworth, piled from base to summit of a +steep hill, the highest point crowned by the church. The +road makes a long bend in approaching the acclivity, which, +if you choose, may be avoided by a cut-off; but coming as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +pilgrim you will perhaps at first desire to see all. You pass +a board which notifies <i>Haworth Town</i>, and then begins the +ascent painfully steep, bounded on one side by houses, on +the other—where you look into the valley—by little gardens +and a line of ragged little sheds and hutches. What a wearisome +hill; you will half doubt whether horses can draw a +load up it. Presently we have houses on both sides, and +shops with plate-glass and mahogany mouldings, contrasting +strongly with the general rustic aspect, and the primitive +shop of the <i>Clogger</i>. Some of the windows denote an expectation +of visitors; the apothecary exhibits photographs of +the church, the parsonage, and Mr. Brontė; and no one +seems surprised at your arrival.</p> + +<p>The <i>Black Bull</i> stands invitingly on the hill-top. I was +ready for breakfast, and the hostess quite ready to serve; and +while I ate she talked of the family who made Haworth +famous. She knew them all, brother and sisters: Mr. Nicholls +had preached the day before in the morning; Mr. +Brontė in the afternoon. It was mostly in the afternoon that +the old gentleman preached, and he delivered his sermon +without a book. The people felt sorry for his bereavements; +and they all liked Mr. Nicholls. She had had a good many +visitors, but expected “a vast” before the summer was over.</p> + +<p>From the inn to the churchyard is but a few paces. The +church is ugly enough to have had a Puritan for architect; +and there, just beyond the crowded graves, stands the parsonage, +as unsmiling as the church. After I had looked at it +from a distance, and around on the landscape, which, in summer +dress, is not dreary, though bounded by dark moors, the +sexton came and admitted me to the church. He points to +the low roof, and quotes Milton, and leads you to the family +pew, and shows you the corner where <i>she</i>—that is, Charlotte—used +to sit; and against the wall, but a few feet from this +corner, you see the long plain memorial stone, with its melancholy +list of names. As they descend, the inscriptions crowd +close together; and beneath the lowest, that which records +the decease of her who wrote <i>Jane Eyre</i>, there remains but a +narrow blank for those which are to follow.<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> This stone, as stated in the newspapers, has since been replaced by a larger +one, with sculptured ornaments.</p></div> + +<p>Then the sexton, turning away to the vestry, showed me in +the marriage register the signatures of Charlotte Brontė, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +husband, and father; and next, his collection of photographs, +with an intimation that they were for sale. When he saw +that I had not the slightest inclination to become a purchaser, +to have seen the place was quite enough; he said, that if I +had a card to send in the old gentleman would see me. It +seemed to me, I replied, that the greatest kindness a stranger +could show to the venerable pastor, would be, not to intrude +upon him.</p> + +<p>On some of the pews I noticed small plates affixed, notifying +that Mr. Mudbeck of Windytop Farm, or some other parishioner +of somewhere else, “hath” three sittings, or four and a +quarter, and so forth; and this invasion by ‘vested rights’ +of the house of prayer and thanksgiving, appeared to me as +the finishing touch of its unattractive features.</p> + +<p>The sexton invited me to ascend the tower, but discovered +that the key was missing; so, as I could not delay, I made +a brief excursion on the moor behind the house, where heather-bloom +masked the sombre hue; and then walked back to +Keighley, and took the train for Shipley, the nearest station +to Saltaire.</p> + +<p>It was the day of Shipley feast, and the place was all in a +hubbub, and numbers of factory people, leaving for a while +their habitual manufacture of woollen goods out of a mixture +of woollen and cotton, had come together to enjoy themselves. +But no one seemed happy except the children; the men and +women looked as if they did not know what to do with themselves. +I took the opportunity to scan faces, and could not +fail to be struck by the general ill-favoured expression. +Whatever approach towards good looks that there was, clearly +lay with the men; the women were positively ugly, and +numbers of them remarkable for that protruding lower jaw +which so characterizes many of the Irish peasantry.</p> + +<p>Saltaire is about a mile from Shipley. It is a new settlement +in an old country; a most noteworthy example of what +enterprise can and will accomplish where trade confides in +political and social security. Here, in an agreeable district of +the valley of the Aire—wooded hills on both sides—a magnificent +factory and dependent town have been built, and with +so much judgment as to mitigate or overcome the evils to +which towns and factories have so long been obnoxious. The +factory is built of stone in pure Italian style, and has a truly +palatial appearance. What would the Plantagenets say, could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +they come back to life, and see trade inhabiting palaces far +more stately than those of kings? The main building, of six +stories, is seventy-two feet in height, and five hundred and +fifty feet in length. In front, at some distance, standing quite +apart, rises the great chimney, to an elevation of two hundred +and fifty feet; a fine ornamental object, built to resemble a +campanile.</p> + +<p>The site is well chosen on the right bank of the Aire, +between the Leeds and Liverpool canal, and the Leeds and +Lancaster railway. Hence the readiest means are available +for the reception and despatch of merchandise. A little apart, +extending up the gentle slope, the young town of Saltaire is +built, and in such a way as to realize the aspirations of a sanitary +reformer. The houses are ranged in parallelograms, of +which I counted sixteen, the fronts looking into a spacious +street; the backs into a lane about seven feet in width, which +facilitates ventilation, admits the scavenger’s cart, and serves +as drying-ground. Streets and lanes are completely paved, +the footways are excellent; there is a pillar post-office, and +no lack of gas-lamps. The number of shopkeepers is regulated +by Messrs. Salt, the owners of the property; and while one +baker and grocer suffices to supply the wants of the town +others will not be allowed to come in. A congregational +chapel affords place for religious worship, and a concert-hall +for musical recreation, or lectures, The men who wish to +tipple must go down to Shipley, for Saltaire, as yet, has no +public-house. If I mistake not, the owners are unwilling +that there shall be one.</p> + +<p>My request for leave to look in-doors was readily granted. +The ordinary class of houses have a kitchen with oven and +boiler, a sink and copper; a parlour, or ‘house’ in the vernacular, +two bedrooms, and a small back-yard, with out-offices. +The floors, mantlepiece, and stairs, are of stone. The +rent is 3s. 1d. a week. Gas is laid on at an extra charge, and +the tenant finds burners. The supply of water is ample, but +the water is hard, and has a smack of peat-bog in its flavour. +A woman whom I saw washing, told me the water lost much +of its hardness if left to stand awhile. Each house has a back-door +opening into the lane; and every stercorarium voids into +the ash-pit, which is cleared out once a week at the landlord’s +cost. The pits are all accessible by a small trap-door from +the lane; hence there is no intrusion on the premises in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +work of cleansing. The drainage in other respects is well +cared for; and the whole place is so clean and substantial, +with handsome fronts to the principal rows, that you feel +pleasure in observing it.</p> + +<p>The central and corner houses are a story higher than the +rest, and what with these and the handsome rows above +referred to, there is accommodation for all classes of the +employed—spinners, overlookers, and clerks. After building +two or three of the parallelograms, it was discovered that +cellars were desirable, and since then every house has its +cellar, in which, as the woman said, “we can keep our meat +and milk sweet in hot weather.” What a contrast, I thought, +to the one closet in a lodging in some large town, where the +food is kept side by side with soap and candles, the duster, +and scrubbing-brush! And though the stone floors look +chilly, coal is only fivepence-halfpenny a hundred-weight.</p> + +<p>No one is allowed to live in the town who is not in some +way employed by the firm. Most of the tenants to whom I +spoke, expressed themselves well satisfied with their quarters, +but two or three thought the houses dear; they could get a +place down at Shipley, or Shipla, as they pronounced it, for +two-and-sixpence a week. I put a question to the baker: +“I isn’t the gaffer,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” I replied; “if you are not the master, we +can talk all the same.”</p> + +<p>He thought we could; and he too was one of those who did +not like the new town. ’Twas too dear. He lived at Shipla, +and paid but four pounds a year for a house with a cellar +under it, and a garden behind; and there he kept a pig, which +was not permitted at Saltaire. There was “a vast” worked +in the mill who did not live under Mr. Salt; they came from +Bradford, and a train, called the Saltaire train, “brought ’em +in the morning, and fetched ’em home at night.”</p> + +<p>The railway runs between the town and the factory. You +cross by a handsome stone bridge, quite in keeping with the +prevalent style of architecture. The hands were returning +from dinner as I approached after my survey of the colony, +and the prodigious clatter of clogs was well-nigh deafening. +My letter of introduction procured me the favour of Mr. +George Salt’s guidance. First, he showed me a model of the +premises, by which I saw that a six-story wing, if such it +may be called, comprising the warehouses, projects at a right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +angle from the rear of the main building, with the combing-shed +on one side, the weaving-shed on the other. In that +combing-shed 3500 persons sat down in perfect comfort to a +house-warming dinner. The weaving-shed is twice as large. +Then there are the workshops of the smiths, machinists, and +other artisans; packing, washing, and drying-rooms, and a +gasometer to maintain five thousand lights; so that in all the +buildings cover six acres and a half. Include the whole of the +floors, and the space is twelve acres. Rails are laid from the +line in front into the ground-floor of the building; hence +there is no porterage, no loading and unloading except by +machinery; and the canal at the back is equally convenient +for water-carriage. In front the ground is laid out as an +ornamental shrubbery, terminated at one corner by the graceful +campanile.</p> + +<p>Then I was conducted to the boilers, a row of ten, sunk +underground in the solid rock, below the level of the shrubbery. +They devour one hundred and twenty tons of coal in +a week; but with economy, for the tall chimney pours out +no clouds of dense black smoke. The prevention is accomplished +by careful feeding, and leaving the furnace-door open +half an inch, to admit a full stream of air. I was amazed at +the sight of such a range of boilers, and yet they were not +enough, and an excavation was making to receive others.</p> + +<p>Then to the engine-room, where the sight of the tremendous +machinery was a fresh surprise. Here are erected two +separate pairs of engines, combining 1250-horse power, by +Fairbairn, of Manchester. You see how beauty of construction +consorts with ponderous strength. Polished iron, glittering +brass, and shining mahogany, testify to the excellence of +Lancashire handicraft in 1853, the date of the engines. The +mahogany is used for casing; and here, as with the boilers, +every precaution is used to prevent the escape of heat. As +you watch the great cogged fly-wheels spinning round with +resistless force, you will hardly be surprised to hear that they +impart motion to two miles of ‘shafting,’ which weighs +in all six hundred tons, and rotates from sixty to two +hundred and fifty times a minute. And this shafting, of +which the diameter is from two to fourteen inches, sets twelve +hundred power-looms going, besides fulfilling all its other +multifarious duties.</p> + +<p>Then we went from one noisy floor to another among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +troops of spinners, finding everywhere proofs of the same +presiding judgment. All is fire-proof; the beams and columns +are of cast-iron; the floors rest on arches of hollow +bricks; and the ventilation, maintained by inlets a few inches +above the floor, and outlets near the ceiling, where hot-water +pipes keep up a temperature of sixty degrees, is perfect, +without draughts. The top room in the main building, +running from end to end for five hundred and fifty feet +without a break, said to be the largest room in Europe, is +an impressive sight, filled with ranks of busy machines and +busy workers.</p> + +<p>In the weaving-shed, all the driving gear is placed beneath +the floor, so that you have a clear prospect over the whole +area at once, uninterrupted by the usual array of rapid +wheels and flying straps. Vast as is the appetite of those +twelve hundred looms for warp and weft, it is kept satisfied +from the mill’s own resources; and in one day they deliver +thirty thousand yards of alpaca, or other kinds of woollen +cloth. Multiply that quantity, reader, by the number of +working days in a year, and you will discover to what an +amazing extent the markets of the world are supplied by +this one establishment of Titus Salt and Co.</p> + +<p>Some portions of the machinery do their work with marvellous +precision and dexterity,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“——as if the iron thought!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and it seemed to me that I could never have tired of watching +the machine that took the wool, one fringe-like instalment +after another, from assiduous cylinders, and delivered +it to another series of movements which placed the fibres all +in one direction, and produced the rough outline of the +future thread. Another ingenious device weaves two pieces +at once all in one width, and with four selvages, of which +two are, of course, in the middle of the web, and yet there +is no difference in appearance between those two inner ones +and those on the outer edges. The piece is afterwards +divided along the narrow line left between them. Even in +the noisome washing-room there was something to admire. +The wool, after a course of pushing to and fro in a cistern +of hot water by two great rakes, is delivered to an endless +web by a revolving cylinder. This cylinder is armed with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +rows of long brass teeth, and as they would be in the way +of the web on their descent, they disappear within the body +of the cylinder at the critical moment, and come presently +forth again to continue their lift.</p> + +<p>In the warehouse, I was shown that the wool is sorted into +eight qualities, sometimes a ninth; and the care bestowed +on this preliminary operation may be judged of from the +fact, that every sorting passes in succession through two sets +of hands. There, too, I learned that the first fleece of +Gimmer hogs is among the best of English wool; and, indeed, +it feels quite silky in comparison with other kinds. +The quality loses in goodness with every subsequent shearing. +The clippings and refuse are purchased by the shoddy +makers, those ingenious converters of old clothes into new.</p> + +<p>Where alpaca and other fine cloths are so largely manufactured, +the question as to a continuous supply of finest +wool becomes of serious importance. Mr. Salt has done +what he can to provide for a supply by introducing the +alpaca sheep into Australia and the Cape of Good Hope.</p> + +<p>On my coming, I had thought the counting-house, and +offices, and visitors’ room too luxurious for a mere place of +business; but when I returned thither to take leave, with +the impression of the enormous scale of the business, and +the means by which it is accomplished fresh on my mind, +these appeared quite in harmony with all the rest. And +when I stood, taking a last look around, on the railway +bridge, I felt that he whose large foresight had planned so +stately a home for industry, and set it down here in a sylvan +valley, deserved no mean place among the Worthies of +Yorkshire.</p> + +<p>I walked back to Shipley, and there spent some time +sauntering to and fro in the throng, which had greatly increased +during the afternoon. There was no increase of +amusement, however, with increase of numbers; and the +chief diversion seemed to consist in watching the swings and +roundabouts, and eating gingerbread. Now and then little +troops of damsels elbowed their way through, bedizened in +such finery as would have thrown a negro into ecstacies. +“That caps me!” cried a young man, as one of the parties +went past, outvying all the rest in staring colours.</p> + +<p>“There’s a vast of ’em coom t’ feast, isn’t there?” replied +his companion; “and there ’ll be more, afore noight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Look at Bobby,” said an aunt of her little nephew, who +had been disappointed of a cake; “Look at Bobby! He’s fit +to cry.”</p> + +<p>“What’s ta do?” shouted a countryman, as he was pushed +rudely aside; “runnin’ agean t’ foaks! What d’ye come +poakin yer noase thro’ here for?”</p> + +<p>“Ah’m puzzeld wi’ t’ craad” (crowd), answered the +offender.</p> + +<p>After hearing many more fragments of West Riding dialect, +I forced my way to the railway-station, and went to +Bradford. Few towns show more striking evidences of +change than this; and the bits of old Bradford, little one-story +tenements with stone roofs, left standing among tall +and handsome warehouses, strengthen the contrast. Bradford +and Leeds, only nine miles apart, have been looked +upon as rivals; and it was said that no sooner did one town +erect a new building than the other built one larger or handsomer; +and now Bradford boasts its St. George’s Hall, and +Leeds its Town Hall, crowned by a lofty tower. But what +avails a tower, even two hundred and forty feet high, when +a letter was once received, addressed, “<i>Leeds, near Bradford!</i>”</p> + +<p>Your Yorkshireman of the West Riding is, so Mrs. +Gaskell says, “a sleuth-hound” after money. As there is +nothing like testimony, let me end this chapter with a brace +of anecdotes, and you, reader, may draw your own inference.</p> + +<p>Not far from Bradford, an old couple lived on their farm. +The good man had been ill for some time, when the practitioner +who attended him advised that a physician should +be summoned from Bradford for a consultation. The doctor +came, looked into the case, gave his opinion; and descending +from the sick-room to the kitchen, was there accosted by the +old woman, with,</p> + +<p>“Well, doctor, what’s your charge?”</p> + +<p>“My fee is a guinea.”</p> + +<p>“A guinea,—doctor! a guinea! And if ye come again +will it be another guinea?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I shall hardly have to come again. I have +given my opinion, and leave the patient in very good +hands.”</p> + +<p>“A guinea, doctor! Hech!”</p> + +<p>The old woman rose, went upstairs to her husband’s bed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>side, +and the doctor, who waited below, heard her say, “He +charges a guinea. And if he comes again, it’ll be another +guinea. Now what do ye say?—If I were ye, I’d say no, +like a Britoner; and I’d die first!”</p> + +<p>Though very brief, the other illustration is not less demonstrative. +A friend of mine, whose brother had just been +married, happening to mention the incident to a friend of his, +during a visit to the town, was immediately met by the +question:—</p> + +<p>“Money?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Fool!” was Bradford’s reply.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Bradford’s Fame—Visit to Warehouses—A Smoky Prospect—Ways and +Means of Trade—What John Bull likes—What Brother Jonathan likes—Vulcan’s +Head-quarters—Cleckheaton—Heckmondwike—Busy Traffic—Mirfield—Robin +Hood’s Grave—Batley the Shoddyopolis—All the +World’s Tatters—Aspects of Batley—A Boy capt—The Devil’s Den—Grinding +Rags—Mixing and Oiling—Shoddy and Shoddy—Tricks with +Rags—The Scribbling Machine—Short Flocks, Long Threads—Spinners +and Weavers—Dyeing, Dressing, and Pressing—A Moral in Shoddy—A +Surprise of Real Cloth—Iron, Lead, and Coal—To Wakefield—A Disappointment—The +Old Chapel—The Battle-field—To Barnsley—Bairnsla +Dialect—Sheffield.</p> + +<p>“What is Bradford famous for?” was the question put +at a school-examination somewhere within the West Riding.</p> + +<p>“For its shoddy,” answered one of the boys. An answer +that greatly scandalized certain of the parents who had +come from Bradford; and not without reason, for although +shoddy is manufactured within sight of the smoke of the +town, Bradford is really the great mart for stuffs and worsted +goods, as Leeds is for broadcloth.</p> + +<p>I had seen how stuffs were made, and wished now to see +in what manner they were sent into the market. A clerk +who came to the inn during the evening for a glass of ale +and gossip, invited me to visit the warehouse in which he +was employed, on the following morning. I went, and as +he had not repented of his invitation, I saw all he had to +show, and then, at his suggestion, went to the ‘crack’ +warehouse of Bradford, where business is carried on with +elegant and somewhat luxurious appliances. I handed my +card to a gentleman in the office, and was not surprised +to hear for answer that strangers could not be admitted +for obvious reasons, and was turning away, when he said, +musingly, that my name seemed familiar to him, and after +a little reflection, he added: “Yes, yes—now I have it. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +was on the title-page of <i>A Londoner’s Walk to the Land’s +End</i>. How that book made me long for a trip to Cornwall! +And you are the Londoner! Well, of course you shall see +the warehouse.”</p> + +<p>So I was introduced into the lift, and away we were +hoisted up to the fifth or sixth story, when I was first led to +the gazebo on the roof, that I might enjoy the prospect of +the town and neighbourhood. What a prospect! a great +mass of houses, and rounded heights beyond, dimly seen +through a rolling canopy of smoke. The sky of London is +brilliant in comparison. May it never be my doom to live in +Bradford, or Leeds, or Sheffield, or Manchester!</p> + +<p>We soon exchanged the dismal outlook for the topmost +floor, where I saw heaps of ‘tabs,’ stacks of boards, boxes, +and paper for packing. The tabs, which are the narrow +strips that hang out from the ends of the pieces while on +show, are kept for a time as references. The number and +variety of the boards, on which the pieces are wound, are +surprising: some are thick, to add bulk and weight to the +piece of stuff in which it is to be enveloped; some thin, to +save cost in transport; some broad, some narrow, so that +every market may have its whims and wants gratified. +The Germans who pay heavily for carriage, prefer thin +boards: Brother Jonathan as well as John Bull, likes the +sight of a good pennyworth, and gets a thick board. The +preparation of these boards alone must be no insignificant +branch of trade in Bradford; and remembering how many +warehouses in other towns use up stacks of boards every +month, we see a large consumption of Norway timber at +once accounted for.</p> + +<p>I saw the press cutting the slips of white paper in which +the pieces are tied, and tickets and fancy bands and labels +intended to tickle the eyes of customers, without end. A +peculiar kind of embossed paper, somewhat resembling a +rough towel, is provided to wrap up the American purchases; +and Brother Jonathan requires that his pieces should be +folded in a peculiar way, so that he may show the quality +without loss of time when selling to his own impatient +countrymen. Nimble machines measure the pieces at the rate +of a thousand yards an hour, and others wind the lengths +promptly on the boards; and, judging from appearances, +clerks, salesmen, and porters work as if they too were ac<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>tuated +by the steam. And then, while descending from floor +to floor, to see the prodigious piles of pieces on racks and +shelves, or awaiting their turn in the hydraulic press which +packs them solid as a bastion, was a wonder. There were +moreen, bombazine, alpaca, camlet, orleans, berége, Australian +cord, cable cord, and many kinds as new to me as +they would have been to a fakir. One heavy black stuff was +pointed out as manufactured purposely for the vestments of +Romish priests. And running through each room I saw a +small lift, in which account books, orders, patterns, and such +like, are passed up and down, and now and then a signal to a +clerk to be cautious of pushing sales. And, lastly, on the +ground-floor I saw the handsome dining-room, wherein many +a customer had enjoyed the hospitality of the firm, and drunk +the generous sherry that inspired him to buy up to a thousand +when he purposed only five hundred.</p> + +<p>This brief sketch includes the two warehouses; one, however—the +elegant one—confines itself to the home trade. I +made due acknowledgments for the favour shown to me, and +hastening to the railway-station, took the train for Mirfield. +The line passes the great Lowmoor iron-works, where furnaces, +little mountains of ore, coal, limestone, and iron, and +cranes and trucks, and overwhelming smoke, and a general +blackness, suggest ideas of Vulcan and his tremendous smithy. +And besides there is a stir, and a going to and fro, that betoken +urgent work; and you will believe a passenger’s remark, that +“Lowmoor could of itself keep a railway going.” We pass +Cleckheaton and Heckmondwike, places that have something +sylvan in the sound of their names; but although the country +if left to itself would be pretty enough, it is sadly disfigured +by smoke and the remorseless inroads of trade. Yet who can +travel here in the West Riding and not be struck by the busy +traffic, the sight of chimneys, quarries, canals, and tramways, +and trains heavy laden, coming and going continually! And +connected with this traffic there is one particular especially +worthy of imitation in other counties: it is, that nearly every +train throughout the day has third-class carriages.</p> + +<p>Mirfield is in the pleasant valley of the Calder. While +waiting for a train to Batley, I walked along the bank of the +stream thinking of Robin Hood, who lies buried at Kirklees, +a few miles up the valley, where a treacherous hand let out +his life:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Lay me a green sod under my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And another at my feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay my bent bow by my side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which was my music sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make my grave of gravel and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which is most right and meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Let me have length and breadth enough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a green sod under my head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they may say when I am dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here lies bold Robin Hood.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The object of my visit to Batley was to see the making of +shoddy. To leave Yorkshire ignorant of one of our latest +national institutions would be a reproach. We live in an age +of shoddy, in more senses than one. You may begin with the +hovel, and trace shoddy all through society, even up to the +House of Peers. I had not long to wait: there was a bird’s-eye +view of Dewsbury in passing, and a few minutes brought +me to Batley, the head-quarters of shoddy. On alighting at +the station, the sight of great pockets or bales piled up in +stacks or laden on trucks, every bale branded <i>Anvers</i>, and +casks of oil from <i>Sevila</i>, gave me at once a proof that I had +come to the right place; for here were rags shipped at Antwerp +from all parts of northern Europe. Think of that. +Hither were brought tatters from pediculous Poland, from the +gipsies of Hungary, from the beggars and scarecrows of Germany, +from the frowsy peasants of Muscovy; to say nothing +of snips and shreds from monks’ gowns and lawyers’ robes, +from postilions’ jackets and soldiers’ uniforms, from maidens’ +bodices and noblemen’s cloaks. A vast medley, truly! and +all to be manufactured into broadcloth in Yorkshire. No +wonder that the <i>Univers</i> declares England is to perish by her +commerce.</p> + +<p>The walk to the town gives you such a view as can only be +seen in a manufacturing district: hills, fields, meadows, and +rough slopes, all bestrewn with cottages, factories, warehouses, +sheds, clouded here and there by smoke; roads and paths +wandering apparently anywhere; here and there a quarry, +and piles of squared stone; heaps of refuse; wheat-fields +among the houses; potato-plots in little levels, and everything +giving you the impression of waiting to be finished. Add to +all this, troops of men and women, boys and girls—the girls +with a kerchief pinned over the head, the corner hanging +behind—going home to dinner, and a mighty noise of clogs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +and trucks laden with rags and barrels of oil, and you will +have an idea of Batley, as I saw it on my arrival.</p> + +<p>Having found the factory of which I was in search, I had +to wait a few minutes for the appearance of the principal. A +boy, who was amusing himself in the office, remarked, when +he heard that I had never yet seen shoddy made: “Well, it’ll +cap ye when ye get among the machinery; that’s all!” He +himself had been capt once in his life: it was in the previous +summer, when his uncle took him to Blackpool, and he first +beheld the sea. “That capt me, that did,” he said, with the +gravity of a philosopher.</p> + +<p>Seeing that the principal hesitated, even after he had read +my letter, I began to imagine that shoddy-making involved +important secrets. “Come to see what you can pick up, eh?” +he said. However, when he heard that I was in no way +connected with manufactures, and had come, not as a spy, but +simply out of honest curiosity, to see how old rags were +ground into new cloth, he smiled, and led me forthwith into +the devil’s den. There I saw a cylinder revolving with a +velocity too rapid for the eye to follow, whizzing and roaring, +as if in agony, and throwing off a cloud of light woolly fibres, +that floated in the air, and a stream of flocks that fell in a heap +at the end of the room. It took three minutes to stop the +monster; and when the motion ceased, I saw the cylinder +was full of blunt steel teeth, which, seizing whatever was presented +to them in the shape of rags, tore it thoroughly to +pieces; in fact, ground it up into flocks of short, frizzly-looking +fibre, resembling negro-hair, yet soft and free from +knots. The cylinder is fed by a travelling web, which brings +a layer of rags continually up to the teeth. On this occasion, +the quality of the grist, as one might call it, was respectable—nothing +but fathoms of list which had never been defiled. +So rapidly did the greedy devil devour it, that the two attendant +imps were kept fully employed in feeding; and fast as +the pack of rags diminished, the heap of flocks increased. +And so, amid noise and dust, the work goes on day after day; +and the man who superintends, aided by his two boys, earns +four pounds a week, grinding the rags as they come, for thirty +shillings a pack.</p> + +<p>The flocks are carried away to the mixing-house. As we +turned aside, the devil began to whirl once more; and before +we had entered the other door, I heard the ferocious howl in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +full vigour. The road between the buildings was encumbered +with oil-casks, pieces of cloth, lying in the dust, as if of no +value, and packs of rags. “It will all come right by-and-by,” +said the chief, as I pointed to the littery heaps; and, pausing +by one of the packs which contained what he called ‘mungo,’ +that is, shreds of such cloth as clergymen’s coats are made of, +he made me aware that there is shoddy and shoddy. That +which makes the longest fibre is, of course, the best; and some +of the choice sorts are worked up into marketable cloth, without +a fresh dyeing.</p> + +<p>Great masses of the flocks, with passage-ways between, lay +heaped on the stone floor of the mixing-house. Here, according +to the quality required, the long fibre is mixed in certain +proportions with the short; and to facilitate the subsequent +operations, the several heaps are lightly sprinkled with oil. +A dingy brown or black was the prevalent colour; but some +of the heaps were gray, and would be converted into undyed +cloth of the same colour. It seemed to me that the principal +ingredient therein was old worsted stockings; and yet, before +many days, those heaps would become gray cloth fit for the +jackets and mantles of winsome maidens.</p> + +<p>I asked my conductor if it were true, as I had heard, that +shoddy-makers purchased the waste, begrimed cotton wads +with which stokers and ‘engine-tenters’ wipe the machinery, +or the dirty refuse of wool-sorters, or every kind of +ragged rubbish. He did not think such things were done in +Batley; for his part, he used none but best rags, and could +keep two factories always going. He had heard of the man +who spread greasy cotton-waste over his field, and who, when +the land had absorbed all the grease, gathered up the cotton, +and sold it to the shoddy-makers; but he doubted the truth of +the story. True or not, it implies great toleration among a +certain class of manufacturers. Rags, not good enough for +shoddy, are used as manure for the hops in Kent; so we get +shoddy in our beer as well as in our broadcloth.</p> + +<p>In the next process, the flocks are intimately mixed by +passing over and under a series of rollers, and come forth +from the last looking something like wool. Then the wool, +as we may now call it, goes to the ‘scribbling-machine,’ +which, after torturing it among a dozen rollers of various +dimensions, delivers it yard by yard in the form of a loose +thick cable, with a run of the fibres in one direction. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +carding-machine takes the cable lengths, subjects them to +another course of torture, confirms the direction of the fibres, +and reduces the cable into a chenille of about the thickness +of a lady’s finger. This chenille is produced in lengths of +about five feet, across the machine, parallel with the rollers, +and is immediately transferred to the piecing-machine, by a +highly ingenious process. Each length, as it is finished, +drops into a long, narrow, tin tray; the tray moves forward; +the next behind it receives a chenille; then the third; then +the fourth; and so on, up to ten. By this time, they have +advanced over a table on which lies what may be described as +a wooden gridiron; there is a momentary pause, and then the +ten trays, turning all at once upside down, drop the chenilles +severally between the bars of the gridiron. At one side of +the table is a row of large spindles, or rollers, on which the +chenilles—cardings, is the factory word—are wound, and the +dropping is so contrived that the ends of those which fall +overlap the ends of the lengths on the spindles by about an +inch. Now the gridiron begins to vibrate, and by its movement +beats the ends together; joins each chenille, in fact, to +the one before it; then the spindles whirl, and draw in the +lengths, leaving only enough for the overlap; and no sooner +is this accomplished than the ten trays drop another supply, +which is treated in the same expeditious manner, until the +spindles are filled. No time is lost, for the full ones are +immediately replaced by empty ones.</p> + +<p>Now comes the spinners’ turn. They take these full spindles, +submit them to the action of their machinery by dozens +at a time, and spin the large, loose chenilles into yarns of different +degrees of strength and fineness, or, perhaps one should +say, coarseness, ready for the weavers. And in this way +those heaps of short, uncompliant negro-hair, in which you +could hardly find a fibre three inches long, are transformed +into long, continuous threads, able to bear the rapid jerks of +the loom. I could not sufficiently admire its ingenuity. Who +would have imagined that among the appliances of shoddy! +Moreover, wages are good at Batley, and the spinners can earn +from forty to forty-five shillings a week. The women who +attend the looms earn nine or eighteen shillings a week, +according as they weave one or two pieces.</p> + +<p>Next comes the fulling process: the pieces are damped, +and thumped for a whole day by a dozen ponderous mallets;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +then the raising of the pile on one or both sides of the cloth, +either by rollers or by hand. In the latter case, two men +stretch a piece as high as they can reach on a vertical frame, +and scratch the surface downwards with small hand-cards, +the teeth of which are fine steel wire. Genuine broadcloth +can only be dressed by a teazel of Nature’s own growing; +but shoddy, far less delicate, submits to the metal. So the +men keep on, length after length, till the piece is finished. +Then the dyers have their turn, and if you venture to walk +through their sloppy, steamy department, you will see men +stirring the pieces about in vats, and some pieces hanging to +rollers which keep them for a while running through the +liquor. From the dye-house the pieces are carried to the +tenter-ground and stretched in one length on vertical posts; +and after a sufficient course of sun and air, they undergo +the finishing process—clipping the surface and hot-pressing.</p> + +<p>From what I saw in the tenter-ground, I discovered that +pilot cloth is shoddy; that glossy beavers and silky-looking +mohairs are shoddy; that the Petershams so largely exported +to the United States are shoddy; that the soft, delicate cloths +in which ladies feel so comfortable, and look so graceful, +are shoddy; that the ‘fabric’ of Talmas, Raglans, and paletots, +and of other garments in which fine gentlemen go to +the Derby, or to the Royal Academy Exhibition, or to the +evening services in Westminster Abbey, are shoddy. And +if Germany sends us abundance of rags, we send to Germany +enormous quantities of shoddy in return. The best quality +manufactured at Batley is worth ten shillings a yard; the +commonest not more than one shilling.</p> + +<p>Broadcloth at a shilling a yard almost staggers credibility. +After that we may truly say that shoddy is a great leveller.</p> + +<p>The workpeople are, with few exceptions, thrifty and persevering. +Some of the spinners take advantage of their good +wages to build cottages and become landlords. A walk +through Batley shows you that thought has been taken for +their spiritual and moral culture; and in fine weather they +betake themselves for out-doors recreation to an ancient +manor-house, which I was told is situate beyond the hill +that rears its pleasant woods aloft in sight of the factories.</p> + +<p>The folk of the surrounding districts are accustomed to +make merry over the shoddy-makers, regarding them as +Gibeonites, and many a story do they tell concerning these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +clever conjurors, and their transformations of old clothes +into new. Once, they say, a portly Quaker walked into +Batley, just as the ‘mill-hands’ were going to dinner: he +came from the west, and was clad in that excellent broadcloth +which is the pride of Gloucestershire. “Hey!” cried +the hands, as he passed among them—“hey! look at that +now! There’s a bit of real cloth. Lookey, lookey! we +never saw the like afore:” and they surrounded the worthy +stranger, and kept him prisoner until they had all felt the +texture of his coat, and expressed their admiration.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Again, while waiting at Mirfield, was I struck by the frequency +of trains, and counted ten in an hour and a half. In +1856, a million and quarter tons of iron ore were dug in the +Cleveland and Whitby districts; and the quantity of pig-iron +made in Yorkshire was 275,600 tons, of which the +West Riding produced 96,000. In the same year 8986 +tons of lead, and 302 ounces of silver were made within +the county; and Yorkshire furnished 9,000,000 towards the +sixty millions tons and a half of coal dug in all the kingdom.</p> + +<p>I journeyed on to Wakefield; and, as it proved, to a disappointment. +I had hoped for a sight of Walton Hall, and +of the well-known naturalist, who there fulfils the rites of +hospitality with a generous hand. Through a friend of his, +Mr. Waterton had assured me of a welcome; but on arriving +at Wakefield, I heard that he had started the day before for +the Continent. So, instead of a walk to the Hall, I resolved +to go on to Sheffield, by the last train. This left me time +for a ramble. I went down to the bridge, and revived my +recollections of the little chapel which for four hundred years +has shown its rich and beautiful front to all who there cross +the Calder, and I rejoiced to see that it had been restored +and was protected by a railing. It was built—some say renewed—by +Edward the Fourth to the memory of those +who fell in the battle of Wakefield—a battle fatal to the +House of York—and fatal to the victors; for the cruelties +there perpetrated by Black Clifford and other knights, were +repaid with tenfold vengeance at Towton. The place where +Richard, Duke of York, fell, may still be seen: and near it, +a little more than a mile from the town, the eminence on +which stood Sandal Castle, a fortress singularly picturesque, +as shown in old engravings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>After a succession of stony towns and smoky towns, there +was something cheerful in the distant view of Wakefield +with its clean red brick. It has some handsome streets; and +in the old thoroughfares you may see relics of the medięval +times in ancient timbered houses. Leland describes it as “a +very quick market town, and meatly large, the whole profit +of which standeth by coarse drapery.” You will soon learn +by a walk through the streets that “very quick” still applies.</p> + +<p>Signs of manufactures are repeated as Wakefield, with +its green neighbourhood, is left behind, and at Barnsley +the air is again darkened by smoke. We had to change +trains here, and thought ourselves lucky in finding that the +Sheffield train had for once condescended to lay aside its +surly impatience, and await the arrival from Wakefield. +As we pushed through the throng on the platform, I heard +many a specimen of the vernacular peculiar to Bairnsla, as +the natives call it. How shall one who has not spent years +among them essay to reproduce the sounds? Fortunately +there is a <i>Bairnsla Foaks’ Almanack</i> in which the work is +done ready to our hand; and here is a passage quoted from +<i>Tom Treddlehoyle’s Peep at T’ Manchister Exhebishan</i>, giving +us a notion of the sort of dialect talked by the Queen’s subjects +in this part of Yorkshire.</p> + +<p>Tom is looking about and “moralizin’,” when “a strange +bussal cum on all ov a sudden daan below stairs, an foaks +hurryin e wun dereckshan! ‘Wot’s ta do?’ thowt ah; an +daan t’ steps ah clattard, runnin full bump agean t’ foaks a +t’ bottom, an before thade time to grumal or get ther faces +saard, ah axt, ‘Wot ther wor ta do?’—‘Lord John Russel’s +cum in,’ sed thay. Hearin this, there diddant need anuther +wurd, for after springin up on ta me teppytoes ta get t’ lattetude +az ta whereabaats he wor, ah duckt me head underneath +foaks’s airms, an away a slipt throo t’ craad az if ide +been soapt all ovver, an gettin as near him az ah durst ta +be manardly, ah axt a gentleman at hed a glass button stuck +before his ee, in a whisperin soart of a tone, ‘Which wor +Lord John Russel?’ an bein pointed aght ta ma, ah lookt an +lookt agean, but cuddant believe at it wor him, he wor sich +an a little bit ov an hofalas-lookin chap,—not much unlike +a horse-jocky at wun’s seen at t’ Donkister races, an wot wor +just getherin hiz crums up after a good sweatin daan for t’ +Ledger,—an away ah went, az sharp az ah cud squeaze aght,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +thinkin to mesen, ‘Bless us, what an a ta-do there iz abaght +nowt! a man’s but a man, an a lord’s na more!’ We that +thowt, an hevin gottan nicely aght a t’ throng, we t’ loss a +nobbat wun button, an a few stitches stretcht a bit e t’ coit-back, +ah thowt hauf-an-haar’s quiat woddant be amiss.”</p> + +<p>We went on a few miles to a little station called Wombwell, +where we had again to change trains. But the train +from Doncaster had not arrived; so while the passengers +waited they dispersed themselves about the sides of the railway, +finding seats on the banks or fences, and sat talking in +groups, and wondering at the delay. The stars shone out, +twinkling brightly, before the train came up, more than an +hour beyond its time, and it was late when we reached +Sheffield. I turned at a venture into the first decent-looking +public-house in <i>The Wicker</i>, and was rewarded by finding +good entertainment and thorough cleanliness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<p class="hangindent small">Clouds of Blacks—What Sheffield was and is—A detestable Town—Razors +and knives—Perfect Work, Imperfect Workmen—Foul Talk—How Files +are Made—Good Iron, Good Steel—Breaking-up and Melting—Making the +Crucibles—Casting—Ingots—File Forgers—Machinery Baffled—Cutting the +Teeth—Hardening—Cleaning and Testing—Elliott’s Statue—A Ramble to +the Corn-law Rhymer’s Haunt—Rivelin—Bilberry-gatherers—Ribbledin—The +Poet’s Words—A Desecration—To Manchester—A few Words on the +Exhibition.</p> + +<p>When I woke in the morning and saw what a stratum of +‘blacks’ had come in at the window during the night, I admired +still more the persevering virtue which maintains +cleanliness under such very adverse circumstances. We commonly +think the London atmosphere bad; but it is purity +compared with Sheffield. The town, too, is full of strange, +uncouth noises, by night as well as by day, that send their +echo far. I had been woke more than once by ponderous +thumps and sounding shocks, which made me fancy the +Cyclops themselves were taking a turn at the hammers. +Sheffield raised a regiment to march against the Sepoys; +why not raise a company to put down its own pestiferous +blacks?</p> + +<p>Who would think that here grew the many-leagued oak +forests in which Gurth and Wamba roamed; that in a later +day, when the Talbots were lords of the domain, there were +trees in the park under which a hundred horses might find +shelter? Here lived that famous Talbot, the terror of the +French; here George, the fourth Earl, built a mansion in +which Wolsey lodged while on his way to die at Leicester; +here the Queen of Scots was kept for a season in durance; +here, as appears by a Court Roll, dated 1590, the Right +Honorable George Earl of Shrewsbury assented to the trade +regulations of “the Fellowship and Company of Cutlers and +Makers of Knives,” whose handicraft was even then an an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>cient +one, for Chaucer mentions the “Shefeld thwitel.” +Now, what with furnaces and forges, rolling mills, and the +many contrivances used by the men of iron and steel, the +landscape is spoiled of its loveliness, and Silence is driven to +remoter haunts.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, Sheffield is renowned for its knives +and files all over the world. It boasts a People’s College and +a Philosophical Society. With it are associated the names +of Chantrey, Montgomery, and Ebenezer Elliott. When +you see the place, you will not wonder that Elliott’s poetry +is what it is; for how could a man be expected to write +amiable things in such a detestable town?</p> + +<p>Ever since my conversation with the <i>Mechaniker</i>, while +on the way to Prague, when he spoke so earnestly in praise +of English files, my desire to see how files were made became +impatiently strong. Sheffield is famous also for razors; so +there was a sight of two interesting manufactures to be +hoped for when I set out after breakfast to test my credentials. +Fortune favoured me; and, in the works of Messrs. +Rodgers, I saw the men take flat bars of steel and shape +them by the aid of fire and hammer into razor-blades with +remarkable expedition and accuracy. So expert have they +become by long practice, that with the hammer only they +form the blade and tang so nicely, as to leave but little for +the grinders to waste. I saw also the forging of knife-blades, +the making of the handles, the sawing of the buckhorn and +ivory by circular saws, and the heap of ivory-dust which is +sold to knowing cooks, and by them converted into gelatine. +I saw how the knives are fitted together with temporary +rivets to ensure perfect action and finish, before the final +touches are given. And as we went from room to room, and +I thought that each man had been working for years at the +same thing, repeating the same movements over and over +again, I could not help pitying them; for it seemed to me +that they were a sacrifice to the high reputation of English +cutlery. Something more than a People’s College and Mechanics’ +Institute would be needed to counteract the deadening +effect of unvarying mechanical occupation; and where +there is no relish for out-door recreation in the woods and +on the hills, hurtful excitements are the natural consequence.</p> + +<p>I had often heard that Sheffield is the most foul-mouthed +town in the kingdom, and my experience unfortunately adds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +confirmation. While in the train coming from Barnsley, +and in my walks about the town, I heard more filthy and +obscene talk than could be heard in Wapping in a year. +Not to trust to the impressions of the day, I inquired of a resident +banker, and he testified that the foul talk that assailed +his ears, was to him, a continual affliction.</p> + +<p>On the wall of the grinding-shop a tablet, set up at the +cost of the men, preserves the name of a grinder, who by +excellence of workmanship and long and faithful service, +achieved merit for himself and the trade. At their work the +men sit astride on a low seat in rows of four, one behind the +other, leaning over their stones and wheels. For razors, the +grindstones are small, so as to produce the hollow surface +which favours fineness of edge. From the first a vivid stream +of sparks flies off; but the second is a leaden wheel; the +third is leather touched with crocus, to give the polish to +the steel; and after that comes the whet. To carry off the +dust, each man has a fan-box in front of his wheel, through +which all the noxious floating particles are drawn by the +rapid current of air therein produced. To this fan the +grinders of the present generation owe more years of health +and life than fell to the lot of their fathers, who inhaled the +dust, earned high wages, and died soon of disease of the +lungs. I was surprised by the men’s dexterity; by a series +of quick movements, they finished every part of the blade on +the stone and wheels.</p> + +<p>From the razors I went to the files, at Moss and Gamble’s +manufactory, in another part of the town. There is scarcely +a street from which you cannot see the hills crowned by wood +which environ the town—that is, at intervals only, through +the thinnest streams of smoke. The town itself is hilly, and +the more you see of the neighbourhood, the more will you +agree with those who say, “What a beautiful place Sheffield +would be, if Sheffield were not there!”</p> + +<p>My first impression of the file-works, combined stacks of +Swedish iron in bars; ranges of steel bars of various shape, +square, flat, three-cornered, round, and half-round; heaps of +broken steel, the fresh edges glittering in the sun; heaps of +broken crucibles, and the roar of furnaces, noise of bellows, +hammer-strokes innumerable, and dust and smoke, and other +things, that to a stranger had very much the appearance of +rubbish and confusion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<p>However, there is no confusion; every man is diligent at +his task; so if you please, reader, we will try and get a +notion of the way in which those bars of Swedish iron are +converted into excellent files. Swedish iron is chosen because +it is the best; no iron hitherto discovered equals it for purity +and strength, and of this the most esteemed is known as +‘Hoop L,’ from its brand being an <b>L</b> within a hoop. “If +you want good steel to come out of the furnace,” say the +knowing ones, “you must put good iron in;” and some of +them hold that, “when the devil is put into the crucible, +nothing but the devil will come out:” hence we may believe +their moral code to be sufficient for its purpose. The bars, at +a guess, are about eight feet long, three inches broad, and one +inch thick. To begin the process, they are piled in a furnace +between alternate layers of charcoal, the surfaces kept carefully +from contact, and are there subjected to fire for eight or +nine days. To enable the workmen to watch the process, +small trial pieces are so placed that they can be drawn out for +examination through a small hole in the front of the furnace. +In large furnaces, twelve tons of iron are converted at once. +The long-continued heat, which is kept below the melting-point, +drives off the impurities; the bars, from contact with the +charcoal, become carbonized and hardened; and when the fiery +ordeal is over, they appear thickly bossed with bubbles or blisters, +in which condition they are described as ‘blistered steel.’</p> + +<p>Now come the operations which convert these blistered bars +into the finished bars of steel above-mentioned, smooth and +uniform of surface, and well-nigh hard as diamond. The +blistered bars are taken from the furnace and broken up into +small pieces; the fresh edges show innumerable crystals of +different dimensions, according to the quality of the iron, and +have much the appearance of frosted silver. The pieces are +carefully assorted and weighed. The weighers judge of the +quality at a glance, and mix the sorts in due proportion in the +scales in readiness for the melters, who put each parcel into +its proper crucible, and drop the crucibles through holes in a +floor into a glowing furnace, where they are left for about +half a day.</p> + +<p>The making of the crucibles is a much more important part +of the operation than would be imagined. They must be of +uniform dimensions and quality, or the steel is deteriorated, +and they fail in the fire. They are made on the premises, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +every melting requires new crucibles. In an underground +chamber I saw men at work, treading a large flat heap of +fire-clay into proper consistency, weighing it into lumps of a +given weight; placing these lumps one after the other in a +circular mould, and driving in upon them, with a ponderous +mallet, a circular block of the same form and height as the +mould, but smaller. As the block sinks under the heavy +blows, the clay is forced against the sides of the mould; and +when the block can descend no further, there appears all +round it a dense ring of clay, and the mould is full. Now, +with a dexterous turn, the block is drawn out; the crucible is +separated from the mould, and shows itself as a smooth vase, +nearly two feet in height. The mouth is carefully finished, +and a lid of the same clay fitted, and the crucible is ready for +its further treatment. When placed in the furnace, the lids +are sealed on with soft clay. The man who treads the clay +needs a good stock of patience, for lumps, however small, are +fatal to the crucibles.</p> + +<p>When the moment arrived, I was summoned to witness the +casting. The men had tied round their shins pieces of old +sacking, as protection from the heat; they opened the holes +in the floor, knocked off the lid of the crucible, and two of +them, each with tongs, lifted the crucible from the intensely +heated furnace. How it quivered, and glowed, and threw off +sparks, and diffused around a scorching temperature! It +amazed me that the men could bear it. When two crucibles +are lifted out, they are emptied at the same time into the +mould; not hap-hazard, but with care that the streams shall +unite, and not touch the sides of the mould as they fall. +Neglect of this precaution injures the quality. Another precaution +is to shut out cold draughts of air during the casting. +To judge by the ear, you would fancy the men were pouring +out gallons of cream.</p> + +<p>The contents of two crucibles form an ingot, short, thick, +and heavy. I saw a number of such ingots in the yard. The +next process is to heat them, and to pass them while hot +between the rollers which convert them into bars of any +required form. I was content to forego a visit to the rolling-mill—somewhere +in the suburbs—being already familiar with +the operation of rolling iron.</p> + +<p>We have now the steel in a form ready for the file-makers. +Two forgers, one of whom wields a heavy two-handed ham<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>mer, +cut the bars into lengths, and after a few minutes of fire +and anvil, the future file is formed, one end at a time, from +tang to point, and stamped. For the half-round files, a suitable +depression is made at one side of the anvil. Then comes +a softening process to prepare the files for the men who grind +or file them to a true form, and for toothing. To cut the +teeth, the man or boy lays the file on a proper bed, takes a +short, hard chisel between the thumb and finger of his left +hand, holds it leaning from him at the required angle, and +strikes a blow with the hammer. The blow produces a nick +with a slight ridge by its side; against this ridge the chisel +is placed for the next stroke, and so on to the next, until, by +multiplied blows, the file is fully toothed. The process takes +long to describe, but is, in reality, expeditious, as testified by +the rapid clatter. Some of the largest files require two men—one +to hold the chisel, the other to strike. For the teeth of +rasps, a pyramidal punch is used. The different kinds of files +are described as roughs, bastard cut, second cut, smooth, and +dead smooth; besides an extraordinary heavy sort, known as +rubbers. According to the cut, so is the weight of the hammer +employed. Many attempts have been made to cut files +by machinery; but they have all failed. There is something +in the varying touch of human fingers imparting a keenness +to the bite of the file, which the machine with its precise +movements cannot produce—even as thistle spines excel all +metallic contrivances for the dressing of cloth. And very +fortunate it is that machinery can’t do everything.</p> + +<p>After the toothing, follows the hardening. The hardener +lays a few files in a fire of cinders; blows the bellows till a +cherry-red heat is produced; then he thrusts the file into a +stratum of charcoal, and from that plunges it into a large bath +of cold water, the cleaner and colder the better. The plunge +is not made anyhow, but in a given direction, and with a +varying movement from side to side, according to the shape of +the file. The metal, as it enters the water, and for some +seconds afterwards, frets and moans piteously; and I expected +to see it fly to pieces with the sudden shock. But good steel +is true; the man draws the file out, squints along its edge, +and if he sees it too much warped, gives it a strain upon a +fulcrum, sprinkling it at the same time with cold water. He +then lays it aside, takes another from the fire, and treats it in +a similar way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p>The hardened files are next scrubbed with sand, are dried, +the tangs are dipped into molten lead to deprive them of their +brittleness; the files are rubbed over with oil, and scratched +with a harder piece of metal to test their quality—that is, an +attempt is made to scratch them. If the files be good, it +ought to fail. They are then taken between the thumb and +finger, and rung to test their soundness; and if no treacherous +crack betray its presence, they are tied up in parcels for sale.</p> + +<p>I shall not soon forget the obliging kindness with which explanations +were given and all my questions answered by a +member of the firm, who conducted me over the works. When +we came to the end, and I had witnessed the care bestowed +on the several operations, I no longer wondered that a Bohemian +<i>Mechaniker</i> in the heart of the Continent, or artisans in +any part of the world, should find reason to glory in English +files. Some people are charitable enough to believe that +English files are no unapt examples of English character.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Sheffield is somewhat proud of Chantrey and Montgomery, +and honours Elliott by a statue, which, tall of stature and +unfaithful in likeness, sits on a pedestal in front of the post-office. +I thought that to ramble out to one of the Corn-Law +Rhymer’s haunts would be an agreeable way of spending the +afternoon and of viewing the scenery in the neighbourhood of +the town. I paced up the long ascent of Broome Hill—a not +unpleasing suburb—to the Glossop road, and when the town +was fairly left behind, was well repaid by the sight of wooded +hills and romantic valleys. Amidst scenery such as that you +may wander on to Wentworth, to Wharncliff, the lair of the +Dragon of Wantley, to Stanedge and Shirecliff, and all the +sites of which Elliott has sung in pictured phrase or words of +fire. We look into the valley of the Rivelin, one of the</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Five rivers, like the fingers of a hand,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>that converge upon Sheffield; and were we to explore the +tributary brooks, we should discover grinding wheels kept +going by the current in romantic nooks and hollows. What +a glorious sylvan country this must have been</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">“——in times of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Locksley o’er the hills of Hallam chas’d<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wide-horn’d stag, or with his bowmen bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wag’d war on kinglings.”<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Troops of women and girls were busy on the slopes gathering +bilberries, others were washing the stains from their hands +and faces at a roadside spring, others—who told me they had +been out six miles—were returning with full baskets to the +town. How they chattered! About an hour’s walking brings +you to a descent; on one side the ground falls away precipitously +from the road, on the other rises a rocky cliff, and at +the foot you come to a bridge bestriding a lively brook that +comes out of a wooded glen and runs swiftly down to the +Rivelin. This is the “lone streamlet” so much loved by the +poet, to which he addresses one of his poems:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Here, if a bard may christen thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’ll call thee Ribbledin.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I turned from the road, and explored the little glen to its +upper extremity; scrambling now up one bank, now up the +other, wading through rank grass and ferns, striding from one +big stone to another, as compelled by the frequent windings, +rejoiced to find that, except in one particular, it still answered +to the poet’s description:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Wildest and lonest streamlet!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gray oaks, all lichen’d o’er!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush-bristled isles, ye ivied trunks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That marry shore to shore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, gnarl’d dwarf of centuries,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose snak’d roots twist above me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, for the tongue or pen of Burns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell ye how I love ye!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The overhanging trees multiply, and the green shade +deepens, as you ascend. At last I came to the waterfall—the +loneliest nook of all, in which the Rhymer had mused +and listened to the brook, as he says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Here, where first murmuring from thine urn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy voice deep joy expresses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the rock, like music, flows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wildness of thy tresses.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was just the place for a day-dream. I sat for nearly +an hour, nothing disturbing my enjoyment but now and then +the intrusive thought that my holiday was soon to end. +However, there is good promise of summers yet to come. +I climbed the hill in the rear of the fall, where, knee-deep +in heath and fern, I looked down on the top of the oaken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +canopy and a broad reach of the valley; and intended to +return to the town by another road. But the attractions of +the glen drew me back; so I scrambled down it by the way +I came, and retraced my outward route.</p> + +<p>The one particular in which the glen differs from Elliott’s +description is, that an opening has been made for, as it appeared +to me, a quarry or gravel-pit, from which a loose +slope of refuse extends down to the brook, and encroaches +on its bed, creating a deformity that shocks the feelings by +what seems a desecration. I thought that Ribbledin, at +least, might have been saved from spade and mattock; and +the more so as Sheffield, poisoned by smoke, can ill afford +to lose any place of recreative resort in the neighbourhood. +It may be that I felt vexed; for after my return to London, +I addressed a letter on the subject to the editor of the +<i>Sheffield Independent</i>, in the hope that by calling public attention +thereto, the hand of the spoiler might be stayed.</p> + +<p>As I walked down to the railway-station the next morning +in time for the first train, many of the chimneys had just +began to vent their murky clouds, and the smoke falling into +the streets darkened the early sunlight; and Labour, preparing +to “bend o’er thousand anvils,” went with unsmiling +face to his daily task.</p> + +<p>Away sped the train for Manchester; and just as the Art +Treasures Exhibition was opening for the day, I alighted at +the door.</p> + +<p>Less than half an hour spent in the building sufficed to +show that it was a work of the north, not of the south. +There was a manifest want of attention to the fitness of +things, naturally to be looked for in a county where the bulk +of the population have yet so much to learn; where manufacturers, +with a yearly income numbered by thousands, can +find no better evening resort than the public-house; where +so much of the thinking is done by machinery, and where +steam-engines are built with an excellence of workmanship +and splendour of finish well-nigh incredible.</p> + +<p>For seven hours did I saunter up and down and linger +here and there, as my heart inclined—longest before the old +engravings. And while my eye roved from one beautiful +object to another, I wondered more and more that the <i>Times</i> +and some other newspapers had often expressed surprise that +so few comparatively of the working-classes visited the Man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>chester +Exhibition. Those best acquainted with the working-classes, +as a mass, know full well how little such an +exhibition as that appeals to their taste and feelings. To appreciate +even slightly such paintings and curiosities of art as +were there displayed, requires an amount of previous cultivation +rare in any class, and especially so in the working-classes. +For the cream of Manchester society, the Exhibition +was a fashionable exchange, where they came to parade +from three to five in the afternoon—the ladies exhibiting a +circumference of crinoline far more ample than I have ever +seen elsewhere; and of them and their compeers it would be +safe to argue that those attracted by real love of art were but +tens among the thousands who went for pastime and fashion.</p> + +<p>To me it seems, that of late, we have had rather too much +talk about art; by far too much flattery of the artist and +artificer, whereby the one with genius and the one with +handicraft feel themselves alike ill-used if they are not always +before the eyes of the world held up to admiration. And so, +instead of a heart working inspired by love, we have a hand +working inspired by hopes of praise. The masons who +carved those quaint carvings at Patrington worked out the +thought that was in them lovingly, because they had the +thought, and not the mere ambitious shadow of a thought. +And their work remains admirable for all time, for their +hearts were engaged therein as well as heads and hands. +But now education and division of labour are to do everything; +that is, if flattery fail not; and in wood-engraving +we have come to the pass that one man cuts the clouds, +another the trees, another the buildings, and another the +animal figures; while on steel plates the clouds are “executed” +by machinery. For my part, I would be willing to +barter a good deal of modern art for the conscience and common +honesty which it has helped to obscure.</p> + +<p>We are too apt to forget certain conclusions which ought +to be remembered; and these are, according to Mr. Penrose, +that “No government, however imperial, can create true +taste, or combine excellence with precipitation; that money +is lavished in vain where good sense guides neither the design +nor the execution; and that art with freedom, of which +she is one manifestation, will not condescend to visit the +land where she is not invited by the spontaneous instincts, +and sustained by the unfettered efforts of the people.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.<br /> + +<span class="smaller">A SHORT CHAPTER TO END WITH.</span></h2> + +<p>Here, reader, we part company. The last day of July has +come, and whatever may be my inclinations or yours, I must +return to London, and report myself to-morrow morning at +head-quarters. There will be time while on the way for a +few parting words.</p> + +<p>If the reading of my book stir you up to go and see Yorkshire +with your own eyes and on your own legs, you will, I +hope, be able to choose a centre of exploration. For the +coast, Flamborough and Whitby would be convenient; for +Teesdale, Barnard Castle; for Craven, with its mountains, +caves, and scars, Settle; and for the dales, Kettlewell and +Aysgarth. Ripon is a good starting-point for Wensleydale; +and York, situate where the three Ridings meet, offers +railway routes in all directions. My own route, as you have +seen, was somewhat erratic, more so than you will perhaps +approve; but it pleased me, and if a man cannot please +himself while enjoying a holiday, when shall he?</p> + +<p>A glance at the map will show you how large a portion +of the county is here unnoticed; a portion large enough for +another volume. The omissions are more obvious to you +than to me, because I can fill them up mentally by recollections +of what I saw during my first sojourn in Yorkshire. A +month might be well spent in rambles and explorations in the +north-west alone, along the border of Westmoreland; Knaresborough +and the valley of the Nidd will generously repay a +travel; Hallamshire, though soiled by Sheffield smoke, is full +of delightful scenery; and if it will gratify you to see one of +the prettiest country towns in England, go to Doncaster. And +should you desire further information, as doubtless you will,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +read Professor Phillips’s <i>Rivers, Mountains, and Sea Coast of +Yorkshire</i>—a book that takes you all through the length and +breadth of the county. It tells you where to look for rare +plants, where for fossils; reveals the geological history; +glances lovingly at all the antiquities; and imparts all the +information you are likely to want concerning the inhabitants, +from the earliest times, the climate, and even the terrestrial +magnetism. I am under great obligations to it, not only for +its science and scholarship, but for the means it afforded me, +combined with previous knowledge, of choosing a route.</p> + +<p>As regards distances, my longest walk, as mentioned at the +outset, was twenty-six miles; the next longest, from Brough +to Hawes, twenty-two; and all the rest from fourteen to +eighteen miles. Hence, in all the rambles, there is no risk +of over-fatigue. I would insert a table of distances, were it +not best that you should inquire for yourself when on the +spot, and have a motive for talking to the folk on the way. +As for the railways, buy your time-table in Yorkshire; it +will enlighten you on some of the local peculiarities, and +prove far more useful than the lumbering, much-perplexed +<i>Bradshaw</i>.</p> + +<p>Of course the Ordnance maps are the best and most complete; +but considering that the sheets on the large scale, for +Yorkshire alone, would far outweigh your knapsack, they +are out of the question for a pedestrian. Failing these, you +will find Walker’s maps—one for each Riding—sufficiently +trustworthy, with the distances from town to town laid down +along the lines of road, and convenient for the pocket withal.</p> + +<p>Much has been said and written concerning the high cost +of travelling in England as compared with the Continent, +but is it really so? Experience has taught me that the +reverse is the fact, and for an obvious reason—the much +shorter distance to be travelled to the scene of your wanderings. +In going to Switzerland, for example, there are seven +hundred and fifty miles to Basel, before you begin to walk, +and the outlay required for such a journey as that is not +compensated by any trifling subsequent advantage, if such +there be. Some folk travel as if they were always familiar +with turtle and champagne at home, and therefore should +not complain if they are made to pay for the distinction. But +if you are content to go simply on your own merits, wishing +nothing better than to enjoy a holiday, it is perfectly possible,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +while on foot, to travel for four-and-sixpence a day, sometimes +even less. And think not that because you choose the +public-house instead of the hotel you will suffer in regard to +diet, or find any lack of comfort and cleanliness. The advantage +in all these respects, as I know full well, is not unfrequently +with the house of least pretension. Moreover, you +are not looked on as a mere biped, come in to eat, drink, +and sleep, by a waiter who claims his fee as a right; but a +show of kindly feeling awaits you, and the lassie who ministers +to your wants accepts your gift of a coin with demonstrations +of thankfulness. And, again, the public-house shows you far +more variety of unsophisticated life and character than you +could ever hope to witness in an hotel. Certain friends of +mine, newly-wedded, passed a portion of their honeymoon +at the <i>Jolly Herring</i> at Penmaenmawr, with much more +contentment to themselves than at the large hotels they afterwards +visited in the Principality, and at one-half the cost.</p> + +<p>The sum total of my walking amounts to three hundred +and seventy-five miles. If you go down to Yorkshire, trusting, +as I hope, to your own legs for most of your pleasure, +you will perhaps outstrip me. At any rate, you will discover +that travelling in England is not less enjoyable than on the +Continent; maybe you will think it more so, especially if, +instead of merely visiting one place after another, you really +do travel. You require no ticket-of-leave in the shape of a +passport from cowardly emperor or priest-ridden king, and +may journey at will from county to county and parish to +parish, finding something fresh and characteristic in each, +and all the while with the consciousness that it is your own +country:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Our Birth-land this! around her shores roll ocean’s sounding waves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within her breast our fathers sleep in old heroic graves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Heritage! with all her fame, her honour, heart, and pow’rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God’s gift to us—we love her well—she shall be ever ours.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX.</h2> + +<p class="indexfirst">Addleborough, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Aire, river, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— source of, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Aldborough, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Alum, manufacture of, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</p> +<p class="indexsub">hewing, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</p> +<p class="indexsub">roasting, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>;</p> +<p class="indexsub">soaking, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;</p> +<p class="indexsub">crystallizing, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Alum Shale Cliffs, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Arncliffe, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Askrigg, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Atwick, <a href="#Page_52">52</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Auburn, <a href="#Page_52">52</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Austin’s Stone, <a href="#Page_34">34</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Aysgarth, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Force, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Bain, river, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Bainbridge, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Balder, river, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Barden Fell, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Tower, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Barmston, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Barnard Castle, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Barnsley, <a href="#Page_254">254</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Batley, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Bay Town, <a href="#Page_81">81</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Beverley, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Birkdale, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Bishopdale, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Bishopthorpe, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Black-a-moor, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Bolton Abbey, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Castle, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Boroughbridge, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Boulby, <a href="#Page_115">115</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Bowes, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Bradford, <a href="#Page_243">243</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Bridlington, <a href="#Page_53">53</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Brignall Banks, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Brough, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Brunanburgh, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Buckden, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Pike, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Burnsall, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Burstall Garth, <a href="#Page_19">19</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Burstwick, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Buttertubs Pass, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Byland Abbey, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Calder, river, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Caldron Snout, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cam Fell, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Carnelian Bay, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Carperby, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Carrs, the, <a href="#Page_40">40</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cayton Bay, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Chapel-le-dale, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Clapdale, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Clapham, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cleathorpes, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cleckheaton, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cleveland, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cloughton, <a href="#Page_76">76</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Coatham, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cotherstone, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cottingham, <a href="#Page_27">27</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Counterside, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Coverdale, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Coverham Abbey, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Coxwold, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Craven, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cray, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cronkley Scar, <a href="#Page_148">148</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Cross Fell, <a href="#Page_154">154</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Dane’s Dike, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Darlington, <a href="#Page_135">135</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Deira, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Derwent, river, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Dewsbury, <a href="#Page_248">248</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Dimlington, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Dinsdale Spa, <a href="#Page_135">135</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Drewton, <a href="#Page_34">34</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Driffield, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Dunsley, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Easby heights, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Abbey, <a href="#Page_210">210</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">East Row, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Witton, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Eden, river, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Egliston Abbey, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Egton, <a href="#Page_94">94</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Bridge, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Esk, Vale of, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Eston Nab, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Filey, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Brig, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Flamborough, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Head, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Lighthouse, <a href="#Page_61">61</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— North Landing, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— South Landing, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Fountains Abbey, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Freeburgh Hill, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Frothingham, <a href="#Page_40">40</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Gatekirk Cave, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Gearstones, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">George Fox’s Well, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Giggleswick, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Gilling, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Godmanham, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Goldsborough, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Gordale Scar, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Gormire Lake, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Great Ayton, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Greta Bridge, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Grimsby, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Grinton, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Gristhorp Bay, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Grosmont, <a href="#Page_94">94</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Guisborough, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Moors, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Priory, <a href="#Page_126">126</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Haiburn Wyke, <a href="#Page_78">78</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hambleton Hills, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Handale, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hardraw Scar, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Harpham, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hart-Leap Well, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hawes, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Haworth, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hawsker, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Heckmondwike, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hedon, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Helbeck, the, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Helmsley, <a href="#Page_220">220</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">High Cope Nick, <a href="#Page_152">152</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">High Force, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">High Seat, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hinderwell, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Holderness, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Holwick Fell, <a href="#Page_148">148</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hornby, <a href="#Page_172">172</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hornsea, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Mere, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Howardian Hills, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hull, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— river, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Humber, the, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Huntcliff Nab, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hurtle Pot, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Hutton Lowcross, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Rudby, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Ingleborough, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Cave, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Giant’s Hall, <a href="#Page_188">188</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ingleton, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Fell, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ironstone, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Jervaux Abbey, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Jet, <a href="#Page_91">91</a></p> +<p class="indexsub">manufacture of, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></p> +<p class="indexsub">—— diggers, <a href="#Page_107">107</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Jingle Pot, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Keighley, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kettleness, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kettlewell, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Keyingham, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kildale, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kilnsea, <a href="#Page_19">19</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kilnsey, <a href="#Page_199">199</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kilton, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kirkby Moorside, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kirkdale, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kirkleatham, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kirklees, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Kirkstall Abbey, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Langstrothdale, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Lartington, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Leeds, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Leyburn, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Lofthouse, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Lowmoor, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Lowths, the, <a href="#Page_33">33</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Lythe, <a href="#Page_105">105</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Maiden Way, the, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Maize Beck, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Malham, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Cove, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Tarn, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Mallerstang, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Malton, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Marske, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Marston Moor, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Marton, <a href="#Page_134">134</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Marwood Chase, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Meaux, <a href="#Page_39">39</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Mickle Fell, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Middleham, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Middlesborough, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Middleton-in-Teesdale, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Millgill Force, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Mirfield, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Mortham, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Muker, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Mulgrave, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Cement, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Nappa, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Newby Head, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Newlay, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Newton, <a href="#Page_134">134</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Nine Standards, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Northallerton, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Nunthorp, <a href="#Page_134">134</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Oswaldkirk, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ouse, river, <a href="#Page_224">224</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ovington, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Owthorne, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Patrington, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Paul, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Peak, the, <a href="#Page_81">81</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Pendle Hill, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Pendragon Castle, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Penhill, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Penyghent, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Pickering, vale of, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Pilmoor, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Plowland, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Raby, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Raven Hall, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ravenhill, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ravenser Odd, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ravensworth, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Raydale, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Redcar, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Red Cliff, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Redmire, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Redshaw, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Reeth, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Rey Cross, the, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ribble, river, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ribbledin, the, <a href="#Page_263">263</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Richmond, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Rievaulx Abbey, <a href="#Page_219">219</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ripon, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Rivelin, the, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Robin Hood, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Hood’s Bay, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Rokeby, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Rolleston Hall, <a href="#Page_52">52</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Romaldkirk, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Rosebury Topping, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Routh, <a href="#Page_41">41</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Runswick, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Rye, river, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ryedale, <a href="#Page_220">220</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Sandsend, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Alum-works, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Saltaire, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Saltburn, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Scarborough, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></p> +<p class="indexsub">Spa, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></p> +<p class="indexsub">Castle, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Scarthe Nick, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Seamer Moor, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Selwicks Bay, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Settle, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Shaw, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Sheffield, <a href="#Page_255">255</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Shipley, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Shirecliff, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Shunnor Fell, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Sigglesthorne, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Simmer Water, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Simonstone, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Skawton, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Skeffling, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Skelton, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Skinningrave, <a href="#Page_117">117</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Skipsea, <a href="#Page_52">52</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Skipton, <a href="#Page_191">191</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Skirlington, <a href="#Page_52">52</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Speeton, <a href="#Page_65">65</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Spennithorne, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Spurn, the, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Lighthouse, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Stainmoor, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Staintondale Cliffs, <a href="#Page_79">79</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Staithes, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Stake Fell, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Stalling Busk, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Stamford Brig, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Standard Hill, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Stanedge, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Starbottom, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Stockdale, <a href="#Page_229">229</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Stockton, <a href="#Page_135">135</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Stonesdale, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Street Houses, <a href="#Page_117">117</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Strid, the, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Studley, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Sunk Island, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Sutton, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Swale, river, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Swaledale, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Symon Seat, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Tan Hill, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Tees, river, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Thirsk, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Thoralby, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Thornton Force, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Thorsgill, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Threshfield, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Thwaite, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Tickton, <a href="#Page_41">41</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Topcliffe, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Towton, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Ulshaw, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Upgang, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Upleatham, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Ure, river, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Wakefield, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wassand, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Watton, <a href="#Page_39">39</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Weathercote Cave, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Welwick, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wensleydale, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wentworth, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wharfe, river, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wharfedale, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wharncliff, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Whernside, Great and Little, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Whitby, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">—— Abbey, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Whitfell, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Whitfell Force, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Widdale, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wild Boar Fell, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Winch Bridge, <a href="#Page_145">145</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Winestead, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Winston, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Withernsea, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Witton Fell, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wombwell, <a href="#Page_255">255</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Wycliffe, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></p> + +<p class="indexfirst">Yarborough House, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Yarm, <a href="#Page_135">135</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Yearby bank, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">Yordas Cave, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">York, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></p> + +<p class="indexmain">York, Vale of, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></p> + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + +<p class="center small gap4">FLETCHER, PRINTER, NORWICH.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="large center"><b>Transcribers' Notes</b></p> + +<p>Page xv: Bronte's standardised to Brontė's in chapter XXVI description for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 3: bonehouse standardised to bone-house after "lecture in the grim" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 10: half-penny standardised to halfpenny after "to the value of thirteenpence" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 10: wind-mills standardised to windmills after "presence of numerous" for consistency</p> + +<p>Pages 14, 268: unfrequently as in the original</p> + +<p>Page 16: weather-cock standardised to weathercock after "harmonious throughout, from" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 18: "Its outer sloop is loose sand" as in the original</p> + +<p>Page 19: re-appears standardised to reappears after "pierces the bank, and" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 22: skilful as in the original</p> + +<p>Page 24: grey standardised to gray after "still bearing the" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 25: . added after "that they had to be rebuilt"</p> + +<p>Page 28: Ffourscore as in the original</p> + +<p>Page 31, 166: Inconsistent hyphenation of roof-tree left as in the original as part of a quotation</p> + +<p>Page 43: ecstasies standardised to ecstacies after "which threw the company into" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 44: "He eat meat" as in the original</p> + +<p>Page 48: re-appears standardised to reappears after "evening the picturesque" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 53: . added after "strangely with the clay"</p> + +<p>Page 66: seabirds standardised to sea-birds after "eggs of" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 68: harmonise changed to harmonize after "the better did it" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 72: weatherbeaten standardised to weather-beaten after "an ancient breakwater—all" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 74: befel as in the original</p> + +<p>Page 78: Byepaths changed to Bye-paths before "are not enticing" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 80: seabirds standardised to sea-birds after "a resort of" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 82: "should chose to wed" as in the original</p> + +<p>Page 88: enumerationg corrected to enumerating before "the prophet, the fiery furnace"</p> + +<p>Page 89: wonld corrected to would after "Whitby, and not Scarborough,"</p> + +<p>Page 89: characterise standardised to characterize after "and show which" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 92: . added after "could give the surest information"</p> + +<p>Page 111: course corrected to coarse before "grass and weeds,"</p> + +<p>Page 123: water-falls standardised to waterfalls after "rustling leaves, and rushing" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 126: inconsistent hyphenation of road-side left as in the original as part of a quotation</p> + +<p>Page 129: widespread standardised to wide-spread after "rove at will over the" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 131: , corrected to . after "Prince Oswy, her son"</p> + +<p>Page 141: out-look standardised to outlook after "rock affords an" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 142: reedom corrected to freedom after "John Wycliffe, to whom"</p> + +<p>Page 149: grasss corrected to grass after "The foam appears the whiter, and the"</p> + +<p>Page 151: Duplicate a removed before "meadow, however, comes"</p> + +<p>Page 155: a corrected to an after "a good way off on"</p> + +<p>Page 166: inpenetrable corrected to impenetrable after "cranny, all but the"</p> + +<p>Page 167: gray-beard standardised to graybeard after "The stiff-jointed" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 170: inconsistent non-hyphenation of abear left as in the original as part of a quotation</p> + +<p>Page 172: , corrected to . after "was a Metcalfe"</p> + +<p>Page 177: betweeen corrected to between after "not yet lambed, the connexion"</p> + +<p>Page 177: Galebeck standardised to Gale Beck after "Not far from the inn is"</p> + +<p>Page 184: uphill standardised to up-hill after "village, and walking" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 188: were corrected to where after "let themselves down to a level,"</p> + +<p>Page 192: unusally corrected to unusually after "betokened something"</p> + +<p>Page 193: gatehouse standardised to gate-house after "embodying the ancient" for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 197: inconsistent hyphenation of up-stairs left as in the original as part of a quotation</p> + +<p>Page 199: plinthe corrected to plinth after "forms a natural"</p> + +<p>Page 213: minister corrected to minster after "Without seeing the"</p> + +<p>Page 215: over-much standardised to overmuch after "voice is made to utter"</p> + +<p>Page 233: forsee as in the original</p> + +<p>Page 235: Bronte's standardised to Brontė's in heading for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 236: Bronte standardised to Brontė three times for consistency</p> + +<p>Page 248: boddices corrected to bodices after "from maidens'"</p> + +<p>Page 271: Shirecliffe standardised to Shirecliff</p> + +<p>Page 271: Shunner standardised to Shunnor</p> + +<p>General: Spelling of Cleathorpes as in the original</p> + +<p>General: The musician normally called Caedmon is rendered as Cœdmon as in the original</p> + +<p>General: Punctuation and formatting of the index has been standardised; changes have not been individually +noted</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Month in Yorkshire, by Walter White + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MONTH IN YORKSHIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 35933-h.htm or 35933-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/9/3/35933/ + +Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the 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