Northumberland Yesterday And To Day by Jean F. Terry (best novel books to read .txt) 📕

For Refuge To The Upper Chambers. To The Longstone Might With Truth Be

Attributed The Opening Lines Of Kipling's Poem, "The Coastwise

Lights":--

  "Our Brows Are Bound With Spindrift, And The Weed Is On Our Knees,

  Our Loins Are Battered 'Neath Us By The Swinging, Smoking Seas;

  From Reef, And Rock, And Skerry, Over Headland, Ness, And Voe,

  The Coastwise Lights Of England Watch The Ships Of England Go."

There Are About Twenty Of These Little Islets To Be Seen At Low Tide,

And Very Curious Are Some Of Their Names--The Megstone, The Crumstone,

The Navestone, The Harcars, The Wedums, The Noxes (Knokys), And The

Wawmses. The Largest, Farne Island, Is The Nearest To The Coast, And Is

The One To Which St. Aidan Retired, And On Which St. Cuthbert Made

Himself A Cell, And Where He Lived For Some Years, Leaving Lindisfarne

(Holy Island) Very Often For Months Together, To Dwell Alone On This

Almost Bare Rock And Devote Himself To Holy Meditation And Prayer.

To This Island Came King Ecgfrith Of Northumbria With Archbishop

Trumwine And Other Representatives Of The Synod To Beg The Hermit To

Accept The Bishopric Of Hexham; And It Was On This Island That St.

Cuthbert Died, The Monks Who Had Gone To Look After Him Signalling The

News Of His Death To His Brethren At Lindisfarne By Means Of Torches.

The Island Is Rocky And Precipitous, With Deep Chasms Between The High

Cliffs; And When A North Wind Blows, The Columns Of Foam And Spray, From

The Waters Dashing Into The Chasms And Over The Tops Of The Cliffs, May

Be Seen From The Mainland Rising High Into The Air.

Before The First Lighthouse Was Built On Farne Island, In 1766, A Coal

Fire Was Kindled Every Night On The Top Of The Tower-Like Building Used

As A Fort. This Method Of Warning Passing Vessels Had Been Used

Continuously Since The Days Of Charles Ii. In Great Contrast To This Is

The Modern Lighthouse, With Its Acetylene Gas Lights And Its Automatic

Flash Apparatus.

Close To Stapel Island Are The Three High Basaltic Pillars, Of Rock

Called The Pinnacles. On All These Islands Sea-Birds Breed, But

Especially On The Pinnacles, The Big And Little Harcar, And The Islet

Called The Brownsman.

Thousands And Thousands Of Them Perch And Chatter On The Rocks And Fly

Screaming In The Air, Amongst Them Being Guillemots, Kittiwakes, Gulls,

Terns, Cormorants, Puffins, And Eider-Ducks, For Which Latter St.

Cuthbert Is Said To Have Had Great Affection; Certainly They Are The

Gentlest Of These Wild Sea-Fowl.

Bidding Farewell To The Rocky Farnes, We Sail Past Budle Bay, Into Which

Runs The Warenburn And The Elwick Burn, And Underneath Whose Sandy Flats

Is The Buried Town Of Warnmouth, Once A Busy Seaport, To Which Henry

Iii. Granted A Charter. Approaching Lindisfarne, "Our Isle Of Saints,

Low-Lying On The Blue Breast Of The Curling Waters, Is Hushed And Silent

In The Lightly-Purple Mists Of Morning, Like The Wide Aisles Of A Great

Cathedral At Daybreak, Before The Feet And Tongues Of Sightseers Disturb

The Solemn Stillness. The Tideway Is Covered With Water, And The

Footprints Of The Pilgrims Who Came Yesterday To The Shrine Of St.

Cuthbert Have Passed Into Oblivion Like Footmarks On The Sands Of Time."

(_Galloway Kyle_.) The Modern Pilgrim To Holy Island Generally Takes

Train To Beal Station, And From There Walks To The Seashore, And Crosses

The Long Stretch Of Sand Between Holy Island And The Mainland. The

Governing Factor In The Possibility Or Otherwise Of Making The Journey

Is The State Of The Tide, For These Sands Are Entirely Covered By The

Sea Twice A Day, So That Holy Island Can Only Be Said To Be An Island At

High Tide.

  "For With The Flow And Ebb, Its Style

  Varies From Continent To Isle;

  Dry-Shod, O'er Sands, Twice Every Day

  The Pilgrims To The Shrine Find Way;

  Twice Every Day The Waves Efface

  Of Staves And Sandall'd Feet The Trace."

There Are Dangerous Quicksands On The Way, Too, And A Row Of Stakes

Points Out The Proper Course To Be Taken.

We Have Already Seen That St. Aidan Settled On Lindisfarne And Have

Treated Of Him In Connection With Bamburgh. After His Death Another Monk

Of Iona, Finan, Succeeded Him And Carried On His Work; And After Finan

Came Colman, Who Resigned After The Synod Of Whitby Had Decided To Keep

Easter According To Southern Instead Of Northern Usage. St. Cuthbert Was

Prior Of Lindisfarne At This Time. Later, The Seat Of The Bishopric Was

Removed From Lindisfarne To York, When It Was Held By That Restless And

Able Prelate, Wilfrid, For A Time. Then The Bishopric Was Divided And A

See Of Hexham Formed, As Well As That Of Lindisfarne, Which Included

Carlisle, Out Of The Northern Portion Of The Diocese Of York.

St. Cuthbert Was Bishop Of Lindisfarne For Two Years, Having Exchanged

Sees With Bishop Eata, Who Went To Hexham. The Stone Coffin In Which St.

Cuthbert's Body Was Pieced, After His Death On Farne Island, Was Buried

On The Right Side Of The Altar In The Abbey Of Lindisfarne, Which By

This Time Had Arisen On The Little Island. A Later Bishop, Edfrid,

Executed A Wonderful Copy Of The Gospels, Which Was Illuminated By His

Successor, Ethelwald. Another Bishop Enclosed It In A Cover Of Gold And

Silver, Adorning It With Jewels; And, Later, A Priest Of Lindisfarne,

Aldred, Wrote Between The Lines A Translation Into The Vernacular, And

Added Marginal Notes. This Precious Manuscript, A Wonderful Example Of

The Beautiful Work Done In Monastic Houses In The North So Many

Centuries Ago, Is Now In The British Museum, Where It Is Known As The

"Durham Manuscript."

When The Pirate Keels Of The Danes Appeared Off Our Coasts About The End

Of The Eighth Century, Lindisfarne Abbey Was One Of The First Points Of

Attack; And In 793 It Was Plundered Of Most Of Its Wealth, And Many Of

The Monks Were Slain. For Nearly A Century Afterwards It Was Left In

Peace, But In 875 The Danish Ships Appeared Again Approaching From The

South, Where They Had Just Sacked Tynemouth Priory. The Bishop,

Eardulph, Last Of The Lindisfarne Prelates, And The Brethren Hastily

Collected Their Most Treasured Possessions, And With The Body Of St.

Cuthbert, The Bones Of St. Aidan, And Other Precious Relics, They Fled

From Their Island Home, And Journeyed North, West, And South For Many

Years Before They Found A Resting Place At Chester-Le-Street Near

Durham. For Seven Years They Carried With Them The Body Of St. Cuthbert;

And It Is Said That The Final Choice Of A Resting Place For The Body Of

Their Beloved Saint Was Indicated To Them By Supernatural Means As They

Approached Durham.

In 1069 William The Conqueror Marched Northward To Visit With Sternest

Punishment The Hardy North-Men, Who Were So Long In Submitting To His

Authority; And The Monks Of Durham Fled Before The Advance Of The

Relentless Norman, Carrying With Them, As Before, The Body Of St.

Cuthbert. They Reached Lindisfarne In Safety To Find The Abbey In The

Ruinous State In Which It Had Been Left By The Danes Two Centuries

Earlier. Thus, Once Again, The Body Of St. Cuthbert Rested On The Little

Island Where So Many Years Of His Life Had Been Spent.

In 1070 The Brethren Returned To Durham And In 1093 The Building Was

Begun, Almost Simultaneously, Of The Present Glorious Cathedral Of

Durham And A New Priory And Church On Lindisfarne, And A Strong

Resemblance May Be Traced Between The Two Buildings The Abbey Was

Deserted On The Dissolution Of The Monasteries By Henry Viii., And

Gradually Fell Into Ruins.

The Castle, Which Stands On A Lofty Whinstone Rock At The South-East

Corner Of The Island, Is A Conspicuous Object For Many Miles, Whether

Viewed By Land Or Sea. It Is Supposed To Have Been Built In The Reign Of

Henry Viii., At A Time When Defences Were Commanded To Be Made To All

Harbours. If The Castle Has Had Any Appreciable Share Of Romantic

Incidents In Its History, The Records Thereof Seem To Be Unknown; But

One Which Has Come Down To Us Is The Account Of Its Daring Capture By An

Ardent North-Country Jacobite, Lancelot Errington, In 1715. The

Garrison Consisted Of Seven Men, Five Of Whom Were Absent. Errington,

Who Was Master Of A Small Vessel Lying In The Harbour, Discovered This,

And Immediately Made His Way To The Castle Accompanied By His Nephew,

And Overpowered The Two Men Who Were Left In Charge, Turning Them Out Of

The Castle. He Then Signalled To The Mainland For Reinforcements, But

None Were Forthcoming. A Company Of King's Men Came Instead And

Re-Occupied The Place, Errington And His Nephew Escaping, To Wander

About In The Neighbourhood For Several Days, Hiding From Pursuit, Before

They Got Clear Away. The Castle Was For Many Years The Home Of The

Coastguardsmen, Who Must Have Found It A Most Advantageous Position For

Their Purpose, As They Had An Uninterrupted View Of Miles Of Coast Line.

Northward From Holy Island, But On The Mainland, Lies Goswick, From

Whose Red Sandstone Quarries Came The Material For Building The Abbey Of

Lindisfarne. Further North We Come In Sight Of The Coal Pits And Smoke

Of Scremerston, While Beyond It, Spittal And Tweedmouth Bring Us Right

Up To Berwick-On-Tweed Itself, That Grey Old Border Town Which Has Seen

So Many Turns Of Fortune, And Been Harried Again And Again, Only To Draw

Breath After Each Wild And Cruel Interlude, And Go Calmly On Its Quiet

Way Until It Was Once More Called Upon To Fight For Its Very Existence.

Though Definitely Forming Part Of English Soil Since 1482, It Is Not

Included In Any English County, But, With About Eight Square Miles

Around It, Forms A County By Itself. Hence The Addition, To Any Royal

Proclamation, Of The Well-Known Words "And In Our Town Of

Berwick-Upon-Tweed."

Sir Walter Scott's Description Of The Northumbrian Coast, In His Poem Of

Marmion May Well Be Recalled Here. It Will Be Remembered That The

Abbess Of Whitby, With Some Of Her Nuns, Was Voyaging To Holy Island,

And We Take Up The Description When

  ".... The Vessel Skirts The Strand

  Of Mountainous Northumberland;

  Towns, Towers, And Halls Successive Rise,

  And Catch The Nuns' Delighted Eyes.

  Monkwearmouth Soon Behind Them Lay,

  And Tynemouth's Priory And Bay. They

  Marked, Amid Her Trees, The Hall Of Lofty Seaton Delaval;

  They Saw The Blyth And Wansbeck Floods

  Rush To The Sea Through Sounding Woods;

  They Passed The Tower Of Widdrington,

  Mother Of Many A Valiant Son;

  At Coquet-Isle Their Beads They Tell

  To The Good Saint Who Owned The Cell.

  Then Did The Alne Attention Claim,

  And Warkworth, Proud Of Percy's Name;

  And Next They Crossed Themselves, To Hear

  The Whitening Breakers Sound So Near,

  Where, Boiling Through The Rocks, They Roar

  On Dunstanborough's Caverned Shore.

  Thy Tower, Proud Bamburgh, Marked They There,

  King Ida's Castle, Huge And Square,

  From Its Tall Rock Look Grimly Down

  And On The Swelling Ocean Frown.

  Then From The Coast They Bore Away

  And Reached The Holy Island's Bay.

       *       *       *       *       *

  As To The Port The Galley Flew,

  Higher And Higher Rose To View

  The Castle With Its Battled Walls,

  The Ancient Monastery's Halls,

  A Solemn, Huge, And Dark-Red Pile

  Placed On The Margin Of The Isle.

  In Saxon Strength That Abbey Frowned,

  With Massive Arches, Broad And Round.

       *       *       *       *       *

  On The Deep Walls, The Heathen Dane

  Had Poured His Impious Rage In Vain;

  And Needful Was Such Strength To These,

  Exposed To The Tempestuous Seas,

  Scourged By The Winds' Eternal Sway,

  Open To Rovers Fierce As They.

  Which Could Twelve Hundred Years Withstand

  Winds, Waves, And Northern Pirates' Hand."

Between Peel Fell And Mid Fell, Almost The Farthest Western Heights Of

The Cheviot Hills, A Little Mountain Stream Takes Its Rise, And Flows To

The South And East. This Little Burn Is The North Tyne,