O'er classic ground my humble feet did plod,
My bosom beating with the glow of song;
And high-born fancy walk'd with me along,
Treading the earth Imperial Caesar trod.
A thousand rural objects on the way
Had been my theme-but far-off years arose,
When ancient Britain bow'd beneath her foes,
Adding resplendence to great Caesar's day:
When sounds of Roman arms through valley rung,
And rose that glorious morn upon our isle,
No night can hide, or cloud conceal its smile,
That dazzling morn, which out of darkness sprung.
Enduring cenotaph of Roman fame--
More than this record of their mighty name!
I reached the ancient town of Ripon as the bells were merrily ringing in
the towers of its old collegiate minster, for it was the anniversary of
its patron saint, St. Wilfred. After refreshment, and a walk of three
miles, I arrived at _Studley Park_. The fairy effect produced on entering
this beautiful retreat is almost indescribable. We suddenly exchange the
field and forest scenery for all the poetry of prospect. On the right is
a declivity clothed with laurel, and stretching far away; and on the left
a lofty and well trimmed fence of laurel, forms a screen or curtain to
the valley beneath; the sighing of distant woods and the dashing of
waterfalls, break on the enraptured ear, and cause the anxious eye to
long for some opening in the verdant shroud. Anon the valley is seen; and
through an aperture in the laurel wall, cut in imitation of a window,
breaks as sweet a scene as ever _Claude_ immortalized! Unwilling to
hazard a formal description, I will merely attempt an outline. Far below,
the silver waters of the _Skell_ meander softly amongst statues of
tritons, throwing up innumerable fountain streams. These are masterly
executions after the ancient sculptors, and give the scene an air of
Grecian classicality. Around these triumphs of art, rise lofty woods of
graceful birch, varied by dark fir, and interspersed with erections of
Roman and Gothic design. It is in the contemplation of these beauties
that fancy recalls the mythology of rocky woods, peopled with Dryads and
Fauns. Passing by a circuitous path to the other side of this Eden, by
sloping walks shaded with ilex, ancient oak, sycamore, cypress, and bay,
we have a view of the extent of the valley, terminating with the ruins of
_Fountains Abbey_, and flanked by rocks, wildly overgrown with shrubs;
and before us, seen more distinctly, are the statues of _Hercules_ and
_Antaeus_, and a _Dying Gladiator_--the Temple of Piety, in which are
bronze busts of Titus Vespasian and Nero, and a fine bas-relief of the
Grecian Daughter. In front of this temple the water assumes a variety of
fantastical forms, ornamented at different points by statues of Neptune,
Bacchus, Roman Wrestlers, Galatea, &c. The banqueting-house contains a
Venus de Medicis, and a painting of the Governor of Surat, on horseback,
in a Turkish habit; on the front of this building are spirited figures
of Envy, Hatred, and Malice. From the octagon tower, Mackershaw Lodge
and Wood are seen to great advantage; and from the Gothic temple, the
dilapidated abbey is an object of striking solemnity; whilst an opening
in the distance shows the venerable towers of Ripon Minster.
Wandering eastward, we arrive at the precincts of Fountains Abbey, which
gradually presents its monastic turrets midway in a dell, skirted by
hills crowned with trees, and varied by rocky slopes to the brook. This
abbey was founded in consequence of the disgust which certain monks of
the Benedictine order at St. Mary's, York, had imbibed against their
_relaxed_ discipline; when struck with the famed austerities of the monks
of Rievaulx, they left their abode, and retired to this valley, under the
shade of seven yew trees, six of which were (in 1818) standing. The abbey
was destroyed in the reign of Stephen, and rebuilt in 1204.[4] The
present ruin is celebrated for the sublimity of its architecture, many
parts of which are as perfect as when first erected. The tower is 160
feet in height, and is a fine specimen of Gothic, in its best taste. It
may with safety be asserted, that no church or abbey in England can boast
of such an elegant elevation. The cloisters, 270 feet in length, and
divided by 19 pillars and 20 arches, extend across the rivulet, which
is arched over to support them; and near to the south end is a large
circular stone basin. This almost subterranean solitude is dimly lighted
by lancet windows, which are partially obscured by oaks, beeches, and
firs; and the gloom is heightened by the brook beneath, which may be seen
stretching its way through the broken arches. The only tomb in the church
is that of a cross-legged knight, which lies near the grand tower, and
represents one of the Mowbrays, who died at Ghent, in 1297. Near the
altar is a stone coffin, in which, according to Dugdale, Lord Henry
Percy was interred in 1315. Contiguous to the church is an extensive
quadrangular court, which has been converted into a flower garden. On
the east side is a line of beautiful arches, under one of which is the
entrance to the chapter-house, a weed-grown solitude of deadly silence--
"Where the full-voiced choir
Lie, with their hallelujahs, quench'd like fire."
In 1791, by the removal of some fragments of ruin in the chapter-house,
the sepulchres of several of the abbots were discovered; but the
inscriptions were obliterated. Over the chapter-house were the library
and scriptorium. The architecture or Fountains Abbey is mixed; in some
parts are seen the sharp-pointed windows, in others the circular arches.
The great eastern window is indescribably magnificent, being 23 feet in
width. There has been a central tower, which has long since fallen to
decay. The sanctum sanctorum is 131 feet in length; over one of its
eastern windows is the figure of an angel holding a scroll, dated 1283.
The total length of the church is 358 feet. On the north side of the
quadrangular court is the refectory, which was supported by large pillars,
and adjoining it is the reading gallery, where portions of the Scriptures
were delivered to the monks whilst at their meals; by the side of it are
the kitchen and scullery, the former remarkable for its spacious arched
fire place. Over the refectory was the dormitory, which contained 40
cells; and under the crumbling steps leading to it is the porter's lodge.
Near to the refectory are the remains of the abbot's chambers.
But adieu to the waning glory of Fountains Abbey and the receding towers
of Ripon Minster, while retracing my path of yesterday morning. I must
linger awhile on the Roman way, where antiquity maintains her supremacy
in spite of the war of time, and where the earth looks immutable. Now the
groves of Newby Park re-appear with their "sylvan majesty," creating
unutterable sympathies; for the wind that bows the surrounding branches
moves me to weep for that romantic spirit whose ashes moulder on the
shores of India, where
"When the sun's noon-glory crests the wave,
He shines, without a shadow on his grave."
* * H.
[2] Here Henry Percy, the fourth Earl of Northumberland, was
murdered by an infuriated mob, in the fourth year of Henry
VII.; he having, as lord lieutenant of the county, levied a
tax on the people by order of his sovereign, for carrying on
the war in Bretague. Skelton, poet-laureat to Henry VIII.
lamented his death in some elegiac lines.
[3] Aldburgh, or Aldborough, so called by the Normans, was the
Iseur of the Ancient Britons, and the Isurium of the Romans.
Perhaps there is not another Roman city, not even excepting
York, where so many antiquities have been discovered. The
opening of ancient baths, burial vaults, &c. has led to
the finding of tesselated pavements, coins, urns, rings,
lachrymatories, seals, monumental inscriptions, medals,
statues, chains, sacrificing vessels, &c. It is to be lamented
that modern ignorance and barbarity are fast obliterating all
traces of the Roman walls of Isurium; their foundations having
been dug up for the mercenary purpose of obtaining their
materials. We cannot sufficiently censure such irreverence to
"hoar antiquity," or the contracted and grovelling ideas
which actuate such village Vandals.
[4] The following letter was addressed by Layton, one of the
emissaries of the Dissolution, to Lord Cromwell, at the
Reformation:--
"Please your worship to understand that the Abbot of Fountaynes
hath so greatly dilapidated his house, wasted ye woods,
notoriously keeping six ------; and six days before our coming,
he committed theft and sacrilege, confessing the same; for at
midnight he caused the chapleyne to stele the keys of the secton,
and took out a jewel, a cross of gold with stones; one _Warren_,
a goldsmith of the Chepe, was with him in his chamber at the
hour, and there they stole out a great emerode with a rubye, the
said _Warren_ made the Abbot believe the rubye was a garnet,
and so for that he paid nothing for the emerode, but £20. He
sold him also plate, without weight or ounces.
"Subscribed, your poor Priest
and faithful servant,
R. LAYTON."
* * * * *