VIA CLIFTON JUNCTION.
As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower
Awes us less deeply in its morning hour,
Than when the shades of time serenely fall
On every broken arch and ivied wall,
The tender images we love to trace,
Steal from each year a melancholy grace.
ROGERS.
Clifton Junction may be regarded as the railway entrance to east and
central Lancashire, since at this point, while the original line runs
on to Bolton, there is divergence to Bury, whence, in turn, we get to
Accrington. After Molyneux Brow, the first station is Ringley Road;
then comes Radcliffe, the village of the "red cliffs," renowned in
legend and in local family history, and in a few minutes more we are
near the birthplace of Sir Robert Peel. The cliffs referred to, though
bold and conspicuous, have none of the picturesque beauty pertaining
to Prestwich. Nor, indeed, is the latter renewed until, after passing
Bury, we get to Summerseat, distant from Manchester thirteen miles.
The river, soon lost sight of after passing Molyneux, here comes into
view again, winding among trees, and with steep declivities right and
left. The eastern side of the valley is abundantly wooded, and although
broken by little ravines, offers a delightful walk of about two miles
to the village of Ramsbottom. To begin it, cross the little aqueduct
over the gorge, then keep straight on beneath the shadow of the wood.
Beside this pleasant path wild raspberries grow in plenty, and ferns,
and on the sunward edges of the steep brows above the stream, not
yet much sullied by "works," in September it is sweet to sit down to
rest and talk, noting as we chat the lilac blossoms of the heather.
It does not, as in the wilderness, monopolise the ground, but springs
delicately from the turf, here a little and there a little, in quantity
just enough to remind us that it is one of the friendly plants, those
of the same spirit as the anemone and the celandine, which never care
to live alone, but "love their own kind and to dwell among their
kindred." For the curious in other matters, up above again, on the
highest point, there is the celebrated tower which commemorates the
"Cheeryble Brothers," William and Daniel Grant. Looking across the
river, the opposite bank is remarkably different, the slopes being
almost treeless. Gradually swelling, at last they expand into a vast
tract of moorland called Holcombe Hill, well chosen for the erection of
the far-seen landmark called the Peel monument.
Ramsbottom is succeeded by Stubbins, and after this we get to
Newchurch, the best place to ascend from when bound for the other great
moorland called Fo'edge, where the parsley-fern grows, and the alpine
club-moss, and many another plant that disdains the lowlands, and from
which, if we please, we may pursue a glorious walk to Rochdale, making
acquaintance as we go with the bright and wilful Spodden. Running down
Healey Dene, a narrow and romantic valley, the bordering cliffs seem
to have been torn asunder at various times by the impetuosity of the
rushing torrent. So picturesque is the dingle called specially the
Thrutch,--the river here, in Lancashire phrase, thrutching its way past
all impediment,--that one seems to be far away beyond the Tweed. From
the elevated ground above there is once again a wonderful prospect,
covering Lyme, Cloud-end, the Derbyshire hills, Frodsham, and the
mountains of North Wales,--a prospect enjoyed, moreover, like that one
from Jackson Edge, at an incredibly slight expenditure of climbing
power. This fine neighbourhood may of course be reached direct from
Rochdale, going by the Todmorden line; but geographically it belongs to
Rossendale, in which both the Spodden and the Roch have their simple
beginnings, wherein also, near the foot of Derpley Hill, we find the
cradle of the Irwell. "Rossendale Forest," so called, the name having
a sense similar to that of Delamere Forest (p. 41) is approached by
way of Bacup. Lying upon the northern edge of the line, the forest
presents, with almost the whole of the ground that stretches away to
Cliviger, an endless variety of beautiful change in mountain scenery.
Up here are found the grand summits called Hades Hill and Thieveley
Pike, the view from the top of the last-named comprehending not only
the southward country, but to the north, almost the whole of Craven,
with Ingleborough and the wilds of Trawden Forest. The nearer portions
of the Lake District mountains, those which rise above Cartmel, and
that bathe their ancient feet in Coniston are also distinguishable; and
on sunny evenings, when the atmosphere is clear, and if the tide be in,
the estuary of the Ribble. Cliviger is remarkable not alone for the
rocks and precipices the name denotes, but for the number of beautiful
curves, green with much grass, which are interwoven with them, these
latter constantly adding the very sweet unusual feature in scenery, of
vast hemispherical green bowls, the whole country at the same time, if
we push far enough into the solitude, so tranquil.
O'er stiller place
No singing skylark ever poised himself.
In some parts the rocks are clothed lavishly with ivy, the knotted
and rugged stems very plainly the growth of centuries, while the
massive upper branches throw themselves elegantly into the aërial
sea, imitating the glorious _abandon_ of the strong swimmer when he
dives. The whole of the Lancashire border, at this part, including
the neighbourhood of Burnley, Trawden Forest, and the Colne district,
with the contiguous parts of Yorkshire, is immensely rich in scenery.
Up here, too, it is that one catches aboriginal Lancashire at its
best, the dialect in its prettiest modifications, and among the rural
population the primitive manners and customs. Towneley Park, near
Burnley, one of the most beautiful of the old county family seats, is
distinguished not more for its associations than for the abundance of
its venerable trees.
Taking a great bend towards the west, after passing Stubbins, the
line runs through Haslingden, Accrington, and Blackburn, to a spot of
immemorial celebrity. Five or six miles from the last-named the Darwen
flows through a secluded vale called Hoghton Bottoms. At times it is
bordered by green and level meads; in certain parts great lateral walls
of rock make it uproarious. The name refers to the very ancient and
distinguished family seated here ever since the time of Henry II., the
residence up to the middle of the sixteenth century having been not
far from the edge of the water. Doubtless this would be constructed
chiefly or wholly of wood, for the park, "in former tyme," says the old
chronicler, was "so full of tymber that a man passing through it could
scarcely have seen the sun shine at mid-day." Soon after the accession
of Elizabeth the existing hall, upon the top of the hill, was erected,
the builder being the celebrated Thomas Hoghton, who on account
of his creed was constrained to forsake his ancestral home almost
immediately after the completion, and thenceforwards live in exile upon
the Continent. The story of the departure of the unfortunate man is
told in the beautiful and pathetic ballad, "The Blessed Conscience,"
preserved in the late Mr. T. T. Wilkinson's well-known volume. It would
seem to have been one of the earliest buildings of the kind constructed
entirely of stone. Perfect in design, and in excellent preservation,
Hoghton Tower presents to this day, an admirable example of the
architecture of the period, as regards both adaptedness to domestic
use and to defensive purposes. The great quadrangular lower court is
spacious enough for the movement of five or six hundred men. The upper
one gives access to noble staircases and long galleries, including one
for the minstrels. All that is wanting is the very lofty tower which
in the beginning rose above the central gateway, and from which the
mansion was named. This tower was accidentally destroyed during the
Civil Wars by an explosion of gunpowder, and there seems never to have
been any disposition to reconstruct it.
A site more charming than that selected by Thomas Hoghton for the
glorious old hall which preserves so many interesting and old
familiar traditions pertaining to Lancashire, it would be difficult
to find. It stands upon the crest of a gentle slope, from which, as
well as from the windows, we look right away over the plain and the
bright-faced stream that waters Preston, to the mountains of the Lake
District, these looming grandly from their curtains of mist; the sea,
glorious in the sheen of sunset, upon the left, and upon the right,
gigantic Pendle. The immediate surroundings are no less delightful
than the prospects; the dell beneath is one of the kind in which the
thin-tissued flowers of early spring love to shelter, and which summer
fills with a score of sprightly forms. The eastern side of the hill
is rugged and steep, the Darwen at its foot struggling with boulders
brought down probably by its own vehemence in remote ages.
The original "Manchester and Bolton," opened as far back as May 24th,
1838, is now only the first link in the splendid chain of railway lines
which, going nearly three hundred miles due north, connects our town
with the very heart of Scotland, and by means of the westward branches,
with every part of the shore from the Mersey to the Clyde. How little
was such adventure dreamed of when the old calmness of the Agecroft
valley was first invaded! Eight years afterwards (April 29th, 1846) it
had become the highway to Blackpool, and on April 7th, 1855, people
began to start by it for Southport. Diverging also to Blackburn, and
thence running on to Clitheroe, a country of wonderful beauty was added
to our already ample choice. Cheshire was discovered to be by no means
the all in all, and in mid-Lancashire to-day we learn anew that in
scenery, as in all other things good for the soul, the secret of beauty
comes of nice balance of complementaries. There is endless enjoyment
also for the archæologist in the old halls up that way, many of which
are scarcely rivalled--Turton Tower, for instance, Hall-i'th'-Wood, and
Smithills Hall. Turton Tower, upon the right of the Clitheroe line,
the square form of which gives it an appearance of great solidity, is
almost sacred, having once been the residence of Humphrey Chetham. Part
of it is stone, part black and white, the latter with gables, and the
storeys successively overhanging, the former with an embattled parapet.
Inside there are old carved ceilings, with doors of massive oak, and
much besides that talks pleasantly of the fashions of three hundred
years ago. Of late years a good deal of "restoration" has been carried
on, happily with so much judgment that the original features are in no
degree obscured.
Hall-i'th'-Wood is in its associations one of the most interesting
spots in England, since it was in the large upper chamber, the one
with a window of no fewer than twenty-four compartments, that Samuel
Crompton constructed the exquisitely skilful machine upon which the
cotton industry of Lancashire arose to its present magnitude and
importance. The way to it is from the little wayside station called the
"Oaks," crossing the fields, a pleasant walk of about a mile. The hall
stands upon the edge of a cliff, at the foot of which flows a little
river called the Eagley, one of the early collectors for the Irwell,
the scenery on every side just such as would recommend the site to
that fine old race of country gentlemen, neither barons nor vassals,
under whose authority marks so enduring as these old Lancashire halls
were impressed upon the land. When Crompton lived at Hall-i'th'-Wood,
it was embosomed in trees, many of them so mighty that when cut down
it was like attacking granite columns. As at Turton, the material is
twofold, a portion being magpie, believed to have been put together in
1483, while the remainder is grey stone, erected in 1648; the former,
to appearance, wholly untouched, and the latter altered only by the
introduction, at a little later period than that of the building of the
walls, of some mouldings and other exterior ornaments. Altogether, the
hall is unquestionably to be regarded as a first-rate specimen of the
style it illustrates. This is proved by its having often been taken as
a model for modern Elizabethan houses--we do not mean by copyists, but
by the men of higher platform--those with whom knowledge and learning
are never the limit of thought, but only the basis.[28]
Smithills Hall, now the residence of Mr. R. H. Ainsworth, claims to
occupy the site of an ancient Norman abode, which itself, if all
be true in the legends, succeeded a Saxon palatial one. There can
be no doubt that the spot is one of genuine historical interest. A
chapel, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, was consecrated at Smithills
in 793, nearly a hundred years before the time of King Alfred; and
the locality, like that of Hall-i'th'-Wood, is precisely of the
kind that would be selected for their stronghold by the lords then
having authority over the district, being at the head of two or
three beautiful little glens, at once charming in complexion, and
facilitating defence in case of assault. Much of the original hall has
been renewed from time to time, but it is still a glorious type of the
best work of the sixteenth century, and in the interior, as to antique
carving and other treasures, is rich beyond description. The gardens
also are delightful, and awaken reflections in the most interesting
manner, on the way in which good planting now-a-days links past and
present. The ancient Britons, the oak, the birch, and the hawthorn are
there just as a thousand years ago;--alongside of them are the shapely
evergreens which modern enterprise has brought from the Himalayas and
Japan. A pleasant though somewhat round about way to Smithills, when
permission can be obtained to enter,--a privilege not to be thought
lightly of--is to go first to Hall-i'th'-Wood, then after crossing the
Eagley, past Sweetloves, to Horrocks Fold, and along the edge of the
moor, locally called the Scout, to the top of Deane Road, when the hall
is just below. The distance from Bolton is about three miles.
Entwistle, the station next beyond Turton, gives access to a bit of
water-scenery that would scarcely be expected. Lymm and Hollingworth
have prepared us for magnificent reservoirs; "Entwistle Lodge,"
the embankment for which was constructed about fifty years ago, is
little inferior in beauty. As at Lymm, it has given existence also
to a dell beneath, into which, after heavy rain, causing the water
to overflow, there descends a cataract of at least a hundred and
fifty feet fall. The dell is the only place near Manchester where
the lily-of-the-valley appears to grow truly wild. In autumn it
abounds with golden-rod, ferns, hawkweeds, and the blue jasione, and
upon the slopes, as in Hurst Clough, there are many bushes of the
deepest-coloured of the wild English roses, the _Rosa villosa_. A
romantic natural dell called "The Jumbles," near Edgworth, is also rich
in wild-flowers, but a factory having taken possession, it invites one
no longer.
The valley through which the railway pursues its course, running on
to Darwen, and thence to Blackburn, is one of those which perfectly
illustrates the rich character of the Lancashire uplands. An excellent
idea of its various wealth is gathered from near the Scout, when on the
way to Smithills, and even while travelling it is impossible not to
perceive how fruitful is every part in the picturesque, particularly
in amphitheatres receding among the hills, which if somewhat naked,
still always have a cheerful look. All the way, moreover, there is
the noble spectacle of human activity. Langho station, a quarter of
an hour beyond Blackburn, opens the way once more to pleasing novelty
of scene, not to mention its ancient and beautiful little chapel, the
oldest place of Christian worship in Lancashire still used as one, and
from which it is no more than a pleasant walk of two or three miles
to Whalley itself, the locality of the earliest Christian preaching
in our county. Here it was that Paulinus, in 627, made his first
efforts to convert the Northumbrians--crosses in the ancient graveyard
commemorate the event, memorials of pious labour which belong, in
truth, not more to this once lonesome valley than to the nation. The
church, immensely venerable, portions of it being Norman, is crowded
with interesting antiquities, and would itself well repay the journey,
even were there no Whalley Abbey alongside; say rather the few portions
of the grand old pile that have been spared by Time, and by that still
heavier despoiler, man bent on destruction. The abbey, founded in
1296, belonged to the Cistercians, and, as usual with that fraternity,
was dedicated to the Virgin, whence the sacred monogram M still
discoverable upon some of the relics. Like all other abbeys, it was for
more than two hundred and forty years a place of refuge for every one
who needed succour or counsel. Within its consecrated precincts there
was always wisdom to guide the inexperienced, and charity to relieve
the famishing and distressed. The dissolution of the monasteries in the
calamitous year 1539 by a monarch who thirsted less for reformation
than for spoil, brought everything to an end; and though the building
itself was not demolished till some time afterwards, the delay was less
designed than accidental. Eventually the very stones were scattered far
and wide; hence there is no identifying the various portions as we do
at Furness, and Fountains, and Tintern, and Glastonbury, and Rievaulx.
The archæologist conversant with monastic ruins is able to trace them,
but for the ordinary visitor, after the abbot's house, long since
modernised, and the two grand old gateways, there are only a few grey
and shattered walls, some fragments of arches, and broken corridors.
The extent of the abbey grounds, enclosed partly by the river, partly
by an artificial trench or moat, exceeds thirty-six acres. The building
itself appears to have consisted of three quadrangles, the westernmost
holding the cloisters, and being edged upon the north by the wall
of the church. There were, in addition, as usual, stables and outer
offices. In the presence of so vast an extinction, it is pleasant to
mark the abundance of trees now growing within the ancient boundaries;
and more particularly to note the taste with which in ancient nooks of
aisle and corridor, clumps of green fern have been planted by the owner
or resident, Mr. Appleby. At one time these most interesting ruins were
opened to the public as freely as the church. Now they are virtually
closed, owing to the misconduct of a party of excursionists--not from
Manchester--the innocent, as in so many other places that have been
abused, suffering for the guilty. When will people privileged to enter
a gentleman's private grounds learn to conduct themselves with the same
decorum they would expect others to observe in regard to their own; or
if unpossessed of grounds or gardens, with regard to any other private
property? That the ignorant and selfish will continue to abuse their
privileges to the end of time, is perhaps only too lamentably certain.
Contrariwise, what a happy day it will be when curiosity in regard to
such places will be synonymous with good manners. When at Whalley, of
course we ascend the Nab, that beautiful tree-clad hill which overlooks
the abbey, and gives the first taste of the landscape grandeurs to be
enjoyed later on from the crest of Pendle.
For those who love to feel their feet pressing the turf, Whalley is
the best point of departure also for Stonyhurst, and for the pretty
villages of Great and Little Mitton, the former upon the opposite
bank of the Ribble, which here separates Lancashire from Yorkshire.
The announcement, when half-way over the bridge, comes with most
curious unexpectedness. All of a sudden, while delighting in the
sweet spectacle of the stream, silver-eddied like the immortal ones
in the greatest of epics, an inscription upon the wall says we are
in the county of the white rose! How can this be? Our faces are
turned westwards! Yorkshire is not in front of us, but behind! Look
at the map, and you will discover that Mitton stands upon an odd bit
which darts away from all the rest, after traversing which we are in
Lancashire again. Little Mitton Hall is accounted one of the finest
specimens in England of the style of domestic architecture which
prevailed at the commencement of the sixteenth century, or that of the
building of Henry the Seventh's Chapel at Westminster. The basement is
stone, the upper portion timber, including the roof of the great hall,
which is ceiled with oak in wrought compartments of singular beauty.
Great Mitton Church (in Yorkshire) is no less interesting in respect of
its antiquities and to the admirer of sculpture in the private chapel,
near the altar, once belonging to the Shireburns, the very ancient
and honourable family, long since extinct, by which Stonyhurst was
founded and originally occupied. The marble monuments bear epitaphs
of rare tenderness, though antiquated in phraseology, foremost among
them being that which commemorates the last of the race, Richard
Francis Shireburn, who died, poor boy, in 1702, at the age of only
nine--poisoned, tradition says, by eating yew-berries, though as the
time of his death is stated on the monument to have been June, and it
is impossible for yew-berries to exist except in October and November,
there is something in need of explanation. It is not, by the way, the
yew-_berry_ that is poisonous, for that is perfectly innocuous, but the
_seed_.
Stonyhurst needs at least half-a-day purely and entirely to itself.
At present, as well known, it is the principal college maintained
in this country by the Jesuits, a party of whom obtained possession
of it in 1794, when driven from Liege by the terrors of the French
Revolution. The site was occupied by a hall in exceedingly remote
times, a Shireburn going hence in 1347 to attend Queen Philippa at
Calais. The existing edifice was raised in the time of Elizabeth, by
whom the head of the family was so highly esteemed, that although a
Catholic, she allowed him to retain his private oratory and domestic
priest. The lofty and battlemented centre and the noble cupolas give it
a character among our Lancashire mansions quite unique. The interior
is in perfect harmony with the external design. It is richly stored,
moreover, with works of art, and with archæological and historical
curiosities, the latter including various treasures brought from the
continent at the time of the establishment of the college. The present
refectory was the old state reception hall, left unfinished through the
death of the builder of this splendid place, magnificent nevertheless
in its incompleteness, especially in regard to the ceiling and the
friezes. Of late years very considerable additions have been made to
the building, so as to adapt it more thoroughly to educational use of
the highest character, and these, happily, are all consistent with the
original scheme of decoration as well of architectural plan. Visitors
are allowed to go through on making previous and proper application.
A more delightful neighbourhood for a great residence it would be
difficult to find. Everywhere in the vicinity alike of Stonyhurst and
of the two Mittons, the country constantly reminds one of the south.
Upon foot it is impossible to go astray, for if in rambling we do
not reach the particular point that was contemplated at the outset,
meadows, running water, woodlands, and the sweet spectacle of hills,
both near and distant, and of all chaste hues, are everywhere our own,
and the last hour is no less animating than the first. A very lovely
walk in particular is that one from Mitton to Clitheroe, keeping the
Lancashire side of the stream. The babble of the broad and shining
water, the patient expectancy of many anglers, majestic Pendle upon the
right, a thousand green trees, and by turning the head a little, after
the manner of
... travellers oft, at evening's close,
When eastwards slowly moving,
the glimpse still obtainable of lofty Stonyhurst, which ever and anon
recalls the inimitable ode, "Ye distant spires, ye antique towers."
Each and every element in turn invites a pause, and linger as one may,
Clitheroe is still too near, and reached too soon.
Arrived, there is new pleasure in inspection of the remains of the
ancient castle, one of the most interesting feudal relics in the
county,--built towards the close of the twelfth century by one of
the De Lacy family, whose landed possessions extended from this
neighbourhood uninterruptedly to Pontefract. It never was a castle
in the thorough sense of the word, merely a stronghold to which the
lords of the house came at intervals, to receive tribute and to
dispense justice. There never was room for much more than a donjon, the
rock upon which the little fortalice was erected, rising out of the
flat like an islet, a sort of Beeston rock in miniature. There were
buildings no doubt upon the slope, predecessors of the present, the
former including a chapel, but these were quite external to the castle
_ipsissima_. The view from the summit is delightfully picturesque, and
when this has been enjoyed, there is, as at Smithills, that curious
blending of past and present, old and new, which always awakens
gratitude to the gardener, for here, in this ancient keep, leaning
against stones laid in their places nearly eight centuries ago, is one
of the glossy little cotoneasters of northern India, unknown in England
before 1825.
From Clitheroe we do well to proceed to Chatburn, by rail, if
preferred, but far preferably on foot. Going about half-a-mile
along the highway, presently, upon the left, there is a gate into a
downward-sloping field, the path through which is continued under a
flat railway bridge, then past the first of the celebrated Chatburn
quarries, and into the fields again. Or we may go along the foot of
mighty Pendle itself, and along a series of narrow and winding green
lanes to Downham. The Chatburn quarries are capital hunting-grounds for
the student of fossil shells, encrinites, and other remains found in
limestone. We are enjoined to "consider the lilies of the field"--not
foreign to the Divine behest is it to consider the Crinoidea, the
wonderful stone-lilies of the limestone rock, the petrified flower-like
heads of which here occur in inexpressible abundance. The great
stones set up edgeways in place of stiles between the fields near the
quarries, are crowded with fragments, and show the rough condition of
a favourite material for chimneypieces. For the sake of ladies who may
think of going this way, it may be well to add that the vertical stone
barriers in question were plainly erected in defiance of the art of
dress.
Chatburn is the point to start from when the top of Pendle is the
object, a rather heavy climb of two miles and a half, but if the
atmosphere be clear, well rewarded. The view from Whalley Nab was
magnificent. Pendle is to the latter just what Cobden Edge is to
Marple--a brow upon which the former grandeurs seem diminished to a
fifth. The glistening waters of the Irish Sea beyond the broad green
plain in front; in the north, dim vistas and dark peaks, or mild
blue masses, that declare the mountains of the Lake District,--old
Coniston tossing the clouds from his hoary brows; proximately the
smiling valley of the Ribble, the whole of the upper portion of which
is overlooked; of the Hodder also, in temperament so wild and dashing,
and the wandering Calder; and, turning to the east, the land towards
the German Ocean as far as the powers of the eye can reach. The highest
point of this huge mountain--the most prominent feature in the physical
geography of mid-Lancashire--is stated by the Ordnance Survey to be one
thousand eight hundred and fifty feet, thus falling very little short
of the loftiest part of Kinder Scout, which nowhere claims a full two
thousand. Keeping to the level, there is endless recreation, whether we
penetrate Ribblesdale, or cross the river at the ferry, a mile below,
for the fragments of Sawley, or content ourselves with the peaceful
borders. Not what the Ribble is at "proud Preston," some seven leagues
lower down, a broad and majestic river, do we find it here, but rural,
chaste, and tranquil, the water shallow and clear, the _beau-ideal_ of
a Peneus, the laurels only wanting.
[Illustration]
Footnote
[28: See an excellent description of Hall-i'th'-Wood,
accompanied by a drawing, in the _Manchester Literary Club_ volume for
1880, p. 254.]
[Illustration]