Buch lesen: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 343, November 29, 1828», Seite 2

The Topographer

A VISIT TO STUDLEY PARK AND FOUNTAINS ABBEY, YORKSHIRE

With a Notice of the Roman Military Road, leading from Aldborough (the Isurium of the Romans,) to the North

 
"Yet still thy turrets drink the light
Of summer evening's softest ray;
And ivy garlands, green and bright,
Still mantle thy decay;
And calm and beauteous, as of old,
Thy wand'ring river glides in gold."
 

A.A. WATTS.

Among the most attractive scenes of northern Yorkshire is Studley Park, renowned for the richness of its sylvan scenery, which embosoms the noble ruin of Fountains Abbey.

For the date of my visit to this Arcadia, I must refer the reader to that season of life when the pure source of thought and feeling is untainted by the world. It is eleven miles from my home to Studley Park, five of which I walked in the twilight of a summer's evening, and slept at a little cottage by the way. The day had been sultry, and the moon rose slowly over the mounds of Maiden Bower, once the site of the noble mansion of the Percys, now destroyed and desolate;² and fell in dreary softness on tower and wood, illumining the sable firs of Newby Park, and throwing another lustre on the gaudy "gowans" that decked the adjacent meadow. Here was a scene for the poetic sympathy of youth:

 
"That time is past,
And all its giddy rapture;
Yet not for this faint I, nor mourn;
Other gifts have followed; for such loss
I would believe, abundant recompense."
 

WORDSWORTH.

The morning found me, after an early breakfast, on the road to Studley Park. Now there are some "moods of my own mind" in which I detest all vehicles of conveyance, when on an excursive tour to admire the antique and picturesque.—Thus what numerous attractions are presented to us, sauntering along the woody lane on foot, which are lost or overlooked in the velocity of a drive! On the declivity of a meadow, inviting our reflection, rises a little Saxon church, grey with antiquity, and solemnized by its surrounding memorials of "Here lies."—Across the heath, encircled with fences of uncouth stones, stands a stern record of feudal yore; at the next turn peeps the rectory, encircled with old firs, trained fruit trees, and affectionate ivy; beneath yon darkened thickets rolls the lazy Ure, expanding into laky broadness; and, beyond yon western woods, which embower the peaceful hamlet, are seen the "everlasting hills," across which the enterprising Romans constructed their road. I next passed the boundaries of Newby Park, the property of Lord Grantham. Here beneath enormous beeches were clustering the timid deer, "in sunshine remote;" and the matin songs of birds were sounding from the countless clumps which skirt this retreat. Within that solitude had I enjoyed the society of a brother, alas, now no more! and yet the landscape wore the same sunny smile as when I carved his name on the towering obelisk before him. I felt that sorrow so exquisitely described by Burns:

 
"How can ye bloom so fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I so weary, fu' o' care."
 

Leaving Rainton, a sudden rise brings you to the Roman Military Road, leading from Aldborough,³ the Isurium of the Romans, to Inverness, in Scotland. This road was repaired by the Empress Heleanae, and hence the corruption, from her name, of Learning Lane, its present designation. It was laid by the Romans, with stones of immense size, which have frequently been dug up. The Via Appia, at Rome, which has lasted 1,800 years, resembles it in construction. Raised considerably above the level of the country which it crosses, it is an object of wonder and interest even to the illiterate, on account of the continuous perspective it presents; there being no bend in it for several miles. Traversing this noble monument of art, how are we led to think on the "strange mutations" which have overthrown kings and kingdoms in the period of its duration, whilst the road remains "like an eternity:"

ON CROSSING THE ROMAN MILITARY ROAD, LEADING FROM ISURIUM TO THE NORTH

 
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.