The record-union., 1891-04-19
Scenes in and Around Ilkley and
Bolton Abbey.
Pen Pictures from the Quaintest Old
Town of England, the Former
Home of Robert Collyer, the York
shire Blacksmith" with Account
of Loiterings About Bolton Abbey
Especial Correspondence of the SUNDAY
UNION. Copyright, 1911
Likely, England, April 8,

ocean meet the wild winds from the Irish
Sea, and both, in savage convolutions,
roll icy fog banks along the barren hills,
lies little vale, set like nest between
the highest Yorkshire moors. This is
Wharfedale. All around are dreariness
OF scenery and the griminess and hard
ness of the countless mills. But within
this one dale, as if in blessed compensa-
ton, are numberless winsome spots and
scenes. Ilkley, quaint and old in its
characterful village life, shining and new
from its innovations Of rich loiterers
drawn hither by the hygienic wells, and
from the very love of the sweet old spot,
as Ruskin and Turner were, is the
Wharfedale's tiny metropolis. 1t was
the OLcanG of the Romans. All Saints,
its ancient church, stands on the site Of q
former Roman fort and station. The en-
tire regionsrounabout is filled with Pict-
lsh and Druidic remains. While the
valley sides and craggy moor scars rising
above, are eXqu1Sltely set with hedge and
.copse, lawn and bloom, with here and
there the walls Of ancient manOr-houSe,
or of battlemented castle, showing state
lily against the outjuttings Of the highest
crags.
Innumerable English antiquarians, nat
uralists and tourists, come to Whartedale.
All visit the classic shades of Bolton Alb
Dey, four miles above llkley. Few Amer
leans have seen it, because of its remote
ness. The ancient priory was founded in
1l51, and owed its origin to a pathetic
tragedy, best told in Rogers ballad, 1.-THE
Boy Of EgremOnd." Lady Alice, wife of
William Fitz-Duncan, nephew to King
David OF Scotland, was the founder. Just
mile above the abbey, the River Wharfe
is compressed within deep, torrent
like rocky channel, called the Strid, be-
cause one can stride, or leap, across it.
The son of Lady Alice attempted to cross
the Strid, leading hound in leash. The
latter, suddenly shrinking back, precipi
tated the boy Of EgremOnd" into the
torrent. He was drowned. In dolorous
memory Bolton Abbey was built. Among
all the abbey ruins of Great Britain, Boil
ton, blended with surroundings, is Ger
tainly the most attractively picturesque.
MeIrose IS lncomparably more interest
ing as an ecclesiastic art relic; iYy-buried
Dryburgh protects the grave of Scott;
hirkstall, as an impressive ruin, is far
superior; and Fountains is more perfect,
spacious and splendid; but Bolton Abbey
stands as both an impressive and pictur-
esque olden shrine in perfect dream of
natural beauty and repose.
The ruins are situated on the west side
OF the Wharte upon gentle grassy emf
.nence where the river curves broadly to
the east, breaking in ripping shadows
ventual walls are so fallen in places as to
be overgrown with grass and shrubbery;
other portions Of the wall still stand high
and lofty, subdued in their Jagged out
lines by masses Of ivy. The shell of the
great priory church is yet entire, and into
ats splendid nave has been built paroch-
1al chapel-almost type of truant faith
still clinging to its mother church, while
the dalntieSt parsonage, eyes ever beheld
has been built out Of the ruins, over
against where once stood the court of
clolsters. An ancient escutcheon is en-
blazened on its gateway, its porch is
buried in ivy, and in summer wild hops
and lady-bower kindle the dark masses
with bloom. TO the student of ecclesias-
tic art Bolton PriOry offers but few dis
tinct and fruitful studies. There is a fine
old arch still standing which once led to
the chapter-hOuse. In the nave is a
wooden screen of remarkable Tudor
work. The decorated windows of the
transepts are excellent examples The
early English work of the west front of
the nave has magnificent recessed door
way enriched with fifteen moldings.
while the west window is as exquisite
an example Of the Perpendicular style
as may be found in England. In every
direction the eye falls on matchleSS scenes
of sweetness and rest. The very air and
sunlight Of the little vale seem eloquent
of repoSe. The inner sense dreanfu!lv
ories of the ivy-hid ruins, the Wharfe
mOdulates its wimplings to the spirit of
the spot, and even the birds loving the
valley as retreat from the ever-crowd-
ing of the grim and smoky mills, sing
here in their Wharfeside sanctuary their
softest and tendercst songs.
Outside of all quaint and pleasant things
about Old and new Ilkley, it is a delight
ful place to visit from the human interest
OF the town and its neighborhood. The
ancestors of that sweet singer, Bishop
Heber, lived and died here. 1t is the
land of tho Fairiaxes, whose noble blood
was transtuSed to our own Virginia 1t
was the observation-disclosures haunt of Tur-
ner, who never spoke Of sweet Wharfe-
daie without qulvering Of the voice."
while Ruskin "discerned little bits of
llkley scenery hanging on To the Alpine
nights when Turner came to paint them. :"
But the personality above all others that
links the American heart of to-day to Old
llkley is one our country has held in low
ing regard now these two-score years,
the great-hearted man, who, at Philadel-
phia, Chicago and New York, has made
other men, Romanist or Protestant, or
thodox or hcterodOX, better and happier
1oE his ministry among them-2rand
gray Robert CoHyer-who, when he
passed from the iron to the spiritual an
VII, knew no change in the real man that
was in him, which made a great preacher
and teacher out OF the Yorkshire Black
smith of nkIey.
OF his lineage there was a grandfather
who fought under Nelson and went over
board one dark night in storm. He was
on the fathers side. On the mothers
side was another grandfather sailor who
went beneath the waves with his ship
The two widows fought the wolf while
they were able, ana died presently of the
fight Then, as the century was coming
in, Yorkshire, with its great mills and
factories, came to be the land OF promise
10 all in the south of England who wanted
10 better themselves. So a bright lad in
London, who knew the songs of the an
vii, and alass from Norwich, Were caught
by the same impulse of bettcrment that
took their BARN, Robert, across the sea.
when grown 10 manhood, and the then
little collection of thatches known as
1lSley soon became the humble couples
home. What the boy, "Boab," first
learned TO notice was a woman, tall, deep
cheSted, with shining, faxen hair and
laughing blue eyes a damask rose bloom
on her cheek, a laugh that was music,
TOO, step like deer's for lightness, and
an activity that could carry its posseSsor
twenty miles a day over the rough north
ern hills, and had her safely home at
night. She would have led an army, like
the old Queens, or governed kingdom,
Collyer thinks OF this mother of his.
What she did govern was a house full of
great, growing, hungry, out-breaking
BARNS, keeping them well in hand, smit-
ing all hlndrance out of their way, cloth
ing them and feeding them bravely, and
paying Tor the schooling as long as they
could be spared TO go, out of the eighteen
shlIhngs week,the quiet, manful father
made at his anvil. The old villagers say
the kindest heart that ever beat in q mans
breast was his. It stopped beating i'm n
moment, one hot July day, While the