Part 7 (2/2)

The union, after all, was brought about not by conquest but by a Scotch king going to London to a.s.sume the crown of the two kingdoms. The famous old town of Berwick-on-Tweed bore the brunt of the incursions from both sides on the eastern coast, as did Carlisle on the west. The town of Dunbar, situated on the coast about midway between Edinburgh and Berwick, was of great importance in border history. It had an extensive and strongly fortified castle, situated on the margin of a cliff overhanging the ocean, and which was for a time the residence of Queen Mary after her marriage with Darnley. Nothing now remains of this great structure save a few crumbling walls of red sandstone, which are carefully propped up and kept in the best possible repair by the citizens, who have at last come to realize the cash value of such a ruin. If such a realization had only come a hundred years ago, a great service would have been done the historian and the antiquarian. But this is no less true of a thousand other towns than of Dunbar. No quainter edifice did we see in all Britain than Dunbar's Fifteenth Century town hall. It seemed more characteristic of an old German town than of Scotland. This odd old building is still the seat of the city government.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TOWN HOUSE, DUNBAR, SCOTLAND.]

Our route from Dunbar ran for a long way between the hills of Lammermoor and the ocean and abounded in delightful and striking scenery. We were forcibly reminded of Scott's mournful story, ”The Bride of Lammermoor,”

as we pa.s.sed among the familiar scenes mentioned in the book, and it was the influence of this romantic tale that led us from the main road into narrow byways and sleepy little coast towns innocent of modern progress and undisturbed by the rattle of railways trains. No great distance from Berwick and directly on the ocean stands Fast Castle, said to be the prototype of the Wolf's Crag of ”Lammermoor.” This wild story had always interested me in my boyhood days and for years I had dreamed of the possibility of some time seeing the supposed retreat of the melancholy Master of Ravenswood. We had great difficulty in locating the castle, none of the people seeming to know anything about it, and we wandered many miles among the hills through narrow, unmarked byways, with little idea of where we were really going. At last, after dint of inquiry, we came upon a group of houses which we were informed were the headquarters of a large farm of about two thousand acres, and practically all the people who worked on the farm lived, with their families, in these houses. The superintendent knew of Fast Castle, which he said was in a lonely and inaccessible spot, situated on a high, broken headland overlooking the ocean. It was two or three miles distant and the road would hardly admit of taking the car any farther. He did not think the ruin was worth going to see, anyhow; it had been cared for by no one and within his memory the walls had fallen in and crumbled away. Either his remarks or the few miles walk discouraged me, and after having traveled fully thirty miles to find this castle, I turned about and went on without going to the place at all, and of course I now regret it as much as anything I failed to do on our whole tour. I shall have to go to Fast Castle yet--by motor car.

After regaining the main road, it was only a short run along the edge of the ocean to Berwick-on-Tweed, which we reached early in the evening. I recall no more delightful day during our tour. It had been fresh and cool, and the sky was perfectly clear. For a great part of the way the road had pa.s.sed within view of the ocean, whose deep unruffled blue, entirely un.o.bscured by the mists which so often hang over the northern seas, stretched away until it was lost in the pale, sapphire hues of the skies. The country itself was fresh and bright after abundant rains, and as haymaking was in progress in many places along the road, the air was laden with the scent of the newly mown gra.s.ses. Altogether, it was a day long to be remembered.

Berwick-on-Tweed lies partly in England and partly in Scotland, the river which runs through it forming the boundary line. An odd bridge built by James I connects the two parts of the town, the highest point of its archway being nearest the Scottish sh.o.r.e and giving the effect of ”having its middle at one end,” as some Scotch wit has expressed it. The town was once strongly fortified, especially on the Scottish side, and a castle was built on a hill commanding the place. Traces of the wall surrounding the older part of the city still remain; it is easy to follow it throughout its entire course. When the long years of border warfare ended, a century and a half ago, the town inside of the wall must have appeared much the same as it does today. It is a town of crooked streets and quaint buildings, set down without the slightest reference to the points of the compa.s.s. The site of the castle is occupied by the railway station, though a few crumbling walls of the former structure still remain. The station itself is now called The Castle and reproduces on a smaller scale some of the architectural features of the ancient fortress.

We started southward from Berwick the following morning over the fine road leading through Northumberland. About ten miles off this road, and reached by narrow byways, is the pleasant little seacoast village of Bamborough, and the fame of its castle tempted us to visit it. I had often wondered why some of the old-time castles were not restored to their pristine magnificence--what we should have if Kenilworth or Raglan were re-built and to their ancient glory there were added all the modern conveniences for comfort. I found in Bamborough Castle a case exactly to the point. Lord Armstrong, the millionaire s.h.i.+pbuilder, had purchased this castle--almost a complete ruin--and when he began restoration only the Norman tower of the keep was intact; and besides this there was little except the foundation walls. Lord Armstrong entirely rebuilt the castle, following the original plan and designs, and the result is one of the most striking and pleasing of the palatial residences in England.

The situation, on a high headland extending into the ocean, commands a view in every direction and completely dominates the sleepy little village lying just beneath. The castle is of great antiquity, the records showing that a fortress had been built on this side in the Fifth Century by Ida, King of Northumberland, though the present building largely reproduces the features of the one founded in the time of the Conqueror.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BAMBOROUGH CASTLE, NORTHUMBERLAND.]

Lord Armstrong died the year before the work on the castle was completed and it pa.s.sed into the hands of his nephew. It is open to visitors only one day in the week, and it happened, as usual, that we had arrived on the wrong day. Fortunately, the family were absent, and our plea that we were Americans who had come a long distance to see the place was quite as effective here as in other cases. The housekeeper showed us the palace in detail that we could hardly have hoped for under other circ.u.mstances. The interior is fitted in the richest and most magnificent style, and I have never seen the natural beauties of woodwork brought out with better effect. How closely the old-time construction was followed in the restoration is shown by the fact that the great open roof of the banqueting hall is put together with wooden pins, no nail having been used. The castle has every modern convenience, even hot-water heating--a rare thing in England--being installed. When we saw what an excellent result had been attained in the restoration, we could not but wonder that such a thing has not oftener been done. In the village churchyard is the ma.s.sive gray granite monument erected to the memory of Grace Darling, who lived and died in Bamborough, and a bra.s.s tablet in the ancient church is inscribed with the record of her heroism. The lighthouse which was kept by her father is just off Bamborough Head, and it was from this, in the face of a raging storm, that she launched her frail boat and saved several people from a foundering s.h.i.+p. Only four years later she succ.u.mbed to consumption, but her unparalleled bravery has made the name of this young girl a household word wherever the English language is spoken.

On leaving Bamborough we came as nearly getting lost in the narrow, winding byways as at any time during our tour. A bridge under repair on the direct route to the main road compelled us to resort to byways which were unmarked by signboards and in as ill condition as many American roads. Nor could the people of whom we inquired give us intelligent direction. We finally reached the road again after a loss of an hour or more.

A short time afterwards we came to Alnwick, whose castle is one of the most extensive and complete specimens of mediaeval architecture in England. In the last century it has been largely restored, following out the original design of the exterior, at least, and is now the residence of the Duke of Northumberland. Usually it is open to visitors, but in the confusion that followed the visit of the king the day before, the castle and its great park had been closed until the next week. We had seen the interior of so many similar places that this was not so much of a disappointment, especially as we had a splendid view of the old fortress from the outside and also from the courtyard. On the battlements of this castle are numerous stone figures of men in the act of hurling down missiles on the heads of foes who might besiege it. This was quite common in early days and feudal barons perhaps thought to make up for their shortage of real men by placing these effigies on the walls of their fortresses, but Alnwick is the only castle on which the figures still remain. The town itself was still in holiday attire in honor of its royal guest of the preceding day. The buildings were covered with the national colors and many decorations and illuminations had been planned to celebrate the occasion. Alnwick is one of the most typical of the English feudal towns. It is owned largely by the Duke of Northumberland, who appears to be popular with his tenantry, the latter having erected, in honor of their n.o.ble landlord, a lofty column surmounted by the figure of a lion. Every view from the distance for miles around is dominated by the battlemented and many-towered walls of the castle, which surmounts a hill overlooking the town. The story of Alnwick and its castle would be long to tell, for they bore the brunt of many Scotch incursions and suffered much at the hands of the fierce marauders from the north.

Our afternoon's run led us from Alnwick to Durham, pa.s.sing through Newcastle-on-Tyne. Newcastle is a large commercial city, famous for its mining and s.h.i.+pbuilding industries, and has but little to engage the attention of the tourist. Our pause was a short one, and we reached Durham in good time after a run of over one hundred miles, broken by several lengthy stops on the way.

The main street of Durham in many places is barely wide enough for two vehicles to pa.s.s. It winds and twists through the town in such a way that one seems to be almost moving in a circle at times and constant inquiry is necessary to keep from being lost on the main street of a city of fifteen or twenty thousand. The town is almost as much of a jumble as if its red, tile-roof buildings had been promiscuously thrown to their places from Cathedral Hill. Durham is strictly an ecclesiastical center. There is little except the cathedral, which, in addition to being one of the most imposing, occupies perhaps the finest site of any of the great English churches. Together with Durham Castle, it monopolizes the summit of a hill which at its base is three-quarters surrounded by the river. The greater part of the cathedral dates back seven or eight hundred years, but additions have been made from time to time so that nearly all styles of architecture are represented.

Tradition has it that it was founded by St. Cuthbert, whose chief characteristic is declared to have been his antipathy toward women of all degrees. A curious relic of this peculiarity of the saint remains in a granite cross set in the center of the floor of the nave, beyond which, in the earlier days, no woman was ever allowed to pa.s.s. The interior of the church is mainly in the ma.s.sive and imposing Norman style. The carved stone screen is one of the most elaborate and perfect in Britain, and dates back from the Thirteenth Century. The verger told us of the extreme care which must be taken to preserve this relic. He said that the stone of the screen is rather soft and brittle, and that in cleaning it was never touched, the dust being blown away with bellows. Durham, in common with most of the cathedrals, suffered severely at the hands of the Parliamentarians under Cromwell. It was used as a prison for a part of the Scotch army captured at the battle of Dunbar, and as these Presbyterians had almost as much contempt for images as the Cromwellians themselves, many of the beautiful monuments in the cathedral were broken up. Durham, like Canterbury, is a town that is much favored by the artists, and deservedly so. The old buildings lining the winding river and ca.n.a.l form in many places delightful vistas in soft colors almost as picturesque as bits of Venice itself. The hotels, however, are far from first-cla.s.s, and one would probably be more comfortable at Newcastle. Speaking of hotels, we did not at any time engage accommodations in advance, and Durham was the only town where we found the princ.i.p.al hotel with all rooms taken. With the rapid increase of motoring, however, it will probably become necessary to telegraph for accommodations at the best hotels. And telegraphing is an exceedingly easy thing in England. A message can be sent from any postoffice at a cost of sixpence for the first ten words.

XII

IN OLD YORKs.h.i.+RE

York is by far the largest of the English s.h.i.+res, a widely diversified country, ranging from fertile farm land to broken hills and waste moorland, while its river valleys and considerable coast line present greatly varied but always picturesque scenery. The poet describes the charms of Yorks.h.i.+re as yielding

”Variety without end, sweet interchange Of hill and valley, river, wood and plain.”

Nor did we find this description at all inapt as we drove over its excellent roads during the fine July weather. But the Yorks.h.i.+re country is doubly interesting, for if the landscape is of surpa.s.sing beauty, the cities, the villages, the castles and abbeys, and the fields where some of the fiercest battles in Britain have been fought, have intertwined their a.s.sociations with every hill and valley. Not only the size of the s.h.i.+re, but its position--midway between London and the Scottish border, and extending almost from coast to coast--made it a bulwark, as it were, against the incursions of the Scots and their numerous sympathizers in the extreme north of England. No part of England is more thickly strewn with attractions for the American tourist and in no other section do conditions for motor travel average better.

From London to York, the capital city of the s.h.i.+re, runs the Great North Road, undoubtedly the finest highway in all Britain. It is laid out on a liberal scale, magnificently surfaced and bordered much of the way by wide and beautifully kept lawns and at times skirted with majestic trees. We saw a facsimile of a broadside poster issued about a century ago announcing that the new lightning coach service installed on this road between London and York would carry pa.s.sengers the distance of one hundred and eighty-eight miles in the astonis.h.i.+ngly short s.p.a.ce of four days. This coach, of course, traveled by relays, and at what was then considered breakneck speed. Over this same highway it would now be an easy feat for a powerful car to cover the distance in three or four hours. The great North Road was originally constructed by the Romans to maintain the quickest possible communication between London and Eborac.u.m, as York was styled during the Roman occupation.

The limitation of our time had become such that we could but feel that our tour through Yorks.h.i.+re must be of the most superficial kind. Not less than two weeks of motoring might well be spent in the county and every day be full of genuine enjoyment. The main roads are among the best in England and afford access to most of the important points. We learned, however, that there is much of interest to be reached only from byways, but that these may lead over steep and even dangerous hills and are often in not much better condition than our American roads.

We left Durham about noon, following a rather indirect route to Darlington; from thence, through hawthorne-bordered byways, we came to Richmond, one of the quaintest and most representative of the old Yorks.h.i.+re towns. We happened here on market day and the town was crowded with farmers from the surrounding country. Here we saw many types of the Yorks.h.i.+re man, famed for his shrewdness and fondness for what we would call ”d.i.c.kering.” Much of the buying and selling in English towns is done on market day; live stock, produce, farm implements, and almost every kind of merchandise are sold at auction in the public market place. If a farmer wants to dispose of a horse or to buy a mowing machine, he avails himself of this auction and the services of a professional auctioneer. Such an individual was busily plying his vocation in front of the King's Head Hotel, and the roars of laughter from the farmers which greeted his sallies as he cried his wares certainly seemed to indicate that the charge that Englishmen can not appreciate humor--at least of a certain kind--is a base slander. As Richmond is the center of one of the best farming districts in Yorks.h.i.+re, its market day was no doubt a typical one.

Richmond Castle at one time was one of the most formidable and strongly situated of the northern fortresses. It stands on an almost perpendicular rock, rising one hundred feet above the River Swale, but with the exception of the Norman keep the ruins are scanty indeed. There is enough of the enclosing walls to give some idea of the extent of the original castle, which covered five acres, its magnificent position commanding the whole of the surrounding country. The keep is now used as a military storehouse. The soldier-guard in charge was very courteous and relieved us the necessity of securing a pa.s.s from the commandant, as was required by a notice at the castle entrance. He conducted us to the top of the great tower, from which we were favored with one of the finest views in Central England and one that is almost un.o.bstructed in every direction. Unfortunately, a blue mist obscured much of the landscape, but the guard told us that on clear days York Minster, more than forty miles away, could be easily seen. Near at hand, nestling in the valley of the Swale, are the ivy-covered ruins of Easby Abbey; while still nearer, on the hillside, the great tower of Grey Friars Church is all that remains of another once extensive monastery. In no way can one get a more adequate idea of the parklike beauty of the English landscape than to view it from such point of vantage as the keep of Richmond Castle. Richmond Church is an imposing structure standing near the castle and has recently been restored as nearly as possible to its ancient state. An odd feature of the church is the little shop built in the base of the tower, where a tobacconist now plies his trade.

From the castle tower, looking down the luxuriant valley, we noticed at no great distance, half hidden by the trees, the outlines of a ruined church--the Easby Abbey which I have just mentioned as one of the numerous Yorks.h.i.+re ruins. It is but a few furlongs off the road by which we left Richmond and the byway we entered dropped down a sharp hill to the pleasant spot on the riverside, where the abbey stands. The location is a rather secluded one and the painstaking care noticeable about so many ruins is lacking. It is surrounded by trees, and a large elm growing in the very midst of the walls and arches flung a network of sun and shade over the crumbling stones. The murmur of the nearby Swale and the notes of the English thrushes filled the air with soft melody. Amid such surroundings, we hardly heard the old custodian as he pointed out the different apartments and told us the story of the palmy days of the abbey and of its final doom at the relentless hands of Henry VIII. Near by is a tiny church, which no doubt had served the people of the neighborhood as a place of wors.h.i.+p since the abbey fell into ruin.

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