Mr. Morritt, at Rokeby Park. At that charming place he remained about a week, viewing its many beauties. Result of the two visits became apparent after Christmas, of the same year, when his next great poem appeared, named from the picturesque region in which most of its action is represented—“Rokeby.” 66 X. VISIT TO THE SCENERY OF "ROKEBY." THIS poem, in six Cantos, though meditated during a year or two, was practically commenced at Abbotsford on the 15th day of September, 1812, and was finished on the last day of the following December. Its scene, the poet informs us, "is laid at Rokeby, near Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire, and shifts to the adjacent fortress of Barnard Castle, and to other places in that vicinity. The Time occupied by the Action is a space of Five Days, Three of which are supposed to elapse between the end of the Fifth and beginning of the Sixth Canto. The date of the supposed events is immediately subsequent to the great Battle of Marston Moor, 3d July, 1644. This period of public confusion has been chosen," as affording a degree of probability to the Fictitious Narrative." The poet also informs us that for success in this composition he depended more upon presentation of character than of material objects. The scenery amid which its action is represented to have occurred is delightful, yet it is visited by comparatively few travellers. It is all within one not extensive neighborhood. Some description of that is proposed here without as extended a sketch of the story of the poem as are the sketches already given of three others. Mr. Lockhart concisely expressed a thought that many readers may find true, when he wrote that he "never understood or appreciated half the charm of this poem until" he "had become familiar with its scenery," - shown in this composition with "admirable, perhaps unique, fidelity." Scott himself, notwithstanding any subordination of natural objects to presentation of character in "Rokeby," felt great interest in the "local habitation" of this creation, and made careful researches and personal examinations in regard to its characteristics and various antiquities. As early as July 8, 1809, he wrote to George Ellis, describing Rokeby Park, that he had just then visited, as "one of the most enviable places" he had "ever seen, as it unites the richness and luxuriance of English vegetation with the romantic variety of glen, torrent, and copse, which dignifies our northern scenery. The Greta and Tees, two most beautiful and rapid rivers, join their currents in the demesne. The banks of the Tees resemble, from the height of the rocks, the glen of Roslin, so much and justly admired.” Mr. Morritt's Memorandum pleasantly informs us respecting Scott's "conscientious fidelity" in local descriptions, and his mode of harmonizing natural objects and legends, and his own creations. When the poet was at Rokeby Hall (about a week) in 1812, Mr. Morritt recorded that then he "could not help being singularly struck with the lights which this visit threw on " the characteristics of Scott's "compositions. The morning after he arrived, he said: 'You have often given me materials for romance; now I want a good robber's cave, and an old church of the right sort.' We rode out, and he found what he wanted in the ancient slate quarries of Brignal and the ruined Abbey of Eggleston. I observed him noting down even the peculiar little wild flowers and herbs that accidentally grew round, and on the side of a bold crag near his intended cave of Guy Denzil; and could not help saying, that as he was not to be upon oath in his work, daisies, violets, and primroses would be as poetical as any of the humble plants he was examining. I laughed, in short, at his scrupulousness; but I understood him when he replied, 'that in Nature herself, no two scenes were exactly alike, and that whoever copied truly what was before his eyes, would possess the same variety in his descriptions, and exhibit apparently an imagination as boundless as the range of nature in the scenes he recorded; whereas, whoever trusted to imagination, would soon find his own mind circumscribed and contracted to a few favorite images, and the repetition of these would sooner or later produce that very monotony and barrenness which had always haunted descriptive poetry in the hands of any but the patient worshippers of truth. Besides which,' he said, 'local names and peculiarities make a fictitious story look so much better in the face.' In fact, from his boyish habits, he was but half satisfied with the most beautiful scenery when he could not connect with it some local legend; and when I was forced sometimes to confess with the Knife-grinder, 'Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir!' he would laugh and say, 'Then let us make one; nothing so easy as to make a tradition.' Only a few years ago one could have travelled pleasantly, by fourhorse mail-coach, from the town of Darlington, on the great north road, to the old village of Barnard Castle, close to the border of Yorkshire, and where the action of "Rokeby" begins. Now, a traveller by public carriage must take to the rail, and pass the same country, seeing less of its many attractions. As the poet informs us, by note, "Barnard Castle, saith old Leland, 'standeth stately upon Tees.” Its remains yet extend over more than six acres of ground, upon a bank or point rising steeply nearly a hundred feet above the river, and commanding a wide and magnificent view over the forests and hills of Tees-dale. The ground-plan of the castle resembles a horseshoe in form, having a straight side westward, extending back from the river, bisecting Baliol's, or the Great, Tower, and meeting "Brackenbury's Tower" at the inland corner. The former tower is circular, and has walls eleven feet thick and about fifty feet high. Its basement room has a peculiar arched ceiling, with a rise of only eighteen inches. There is a great stretch of outworks, oblong in extent. The whole structure is much as it was in Scott's time, except that the entrance towers (as the writer was told) have been removed to make room for the stable of a neighboring inn, or something equally important. In usual manner, this old feudal castle stands closely by its town, here a straggling village. The castle, though possibly not worthily kept, will be found uncommonly grand, picturesque, and interesting, and well worth a visit. In it the story of this poem opens, · at night. "The moon is in her summer glow, But hoarse and high the breezes blow, On Barnard's towers and Tees's stream." This night becomes fitfully stormy, while Oswald Wycliffe, a dark, stern, wicked man, is awaiting the coming of Bertram Risingham, a bolder and more wicked man, a retired buccaneer. This latter person at length appears, and announces tidings of the recent battle of Long Marston Moor, near York, in which the cause of His Majesty, King Charles I., suffered so much. An angry inquiry by Wycliffe develops the action of the story. "Wretch ! hast thou paid thy bloody debt? False to thy patron or thine oath, Slave! hast thou kept thy promise plight, And fierce Bertram's reply tells more of Oswald. "What reck'st thou of the Cause divine, Are reddening Marston's swarthy breast, If Philip Mortham with them lie, Lending his life-blood to the dye?'” We learn, however, that Mortham died in the battle, and, we are to infer from Bertram's talk with Oswald, by murderous and mercenary premeditation between these two rascals. Their present business at Barnard Castle was a division of Mortham's wealth; for, as Bertram said, — "When last we reason'd of this deed, He proposed that Wycliffe, a "vassal sworn to England's throne," should by right of heritage take the landed estates of the dead —a kinsman; while he assumed man, "Those spoils of Indian seas and mines, Ingot of gold and diamond spark, And gems from shrieking beauty torn." Like many a crafty villain, Wycliffe was a coward, and really afraid to venture alone with his accomplice to Mortham Castle (not far distant), to reluctantly give up this available portion of the plunder. Accordingly, as he put it, — - "Wilfred on Bertram should attend, His son should journey with his friend.'" Bertram perceived the reason, but merely contemptuously answered, "Wilfred or thou-'tis one to me, We are told that "Nought of his sire's ungenerous part Polluted Wilfred's gentle heart." He had no pleasure in war or turmoil: his was in the beauties of literature, and of scenery such as abounds in the North Country. He was a lover of "Matilda, heir of Rokeby's knight. To love her was an easy hest,”. "To woo her was a harder task." In course of the Great Civil War, "The Knight of Rokeby led his ranks, To aid the valiant northern Earls, Who drew the sword for royal Charles;”"Philip of Mortham raised his band, And march'd at Fairfax's command." Wycliffe, "less prompt to brave the bloody field," as we find him, was meanwhile garrisoning Barnard Castle, also for the Commons. Wilfred, now roused by his father, was duly despatched with Bertram, and bidden to permit Bertram to have his way "in every point," because he was under commission to secure the deceased Mortham's "treasures, bought by spoil and blood, For the State's use and public good!" From Barnard Castle, the traveller can make a pleasant excursion of a day's length, or less, either by riding or walking, to Rokeby Park, and other scenes of this poem, to which its action next conducts. The traveller may either return to the place left, or go forward about fourteen miles over the broad hill-sides of the North Riding, and along the valleys of sundry "Becks," and on the so-called Roman road, "High Street," or "Watling Street," and over Kirkby Hill, and past Ravensworth village and castle, to Richmond. There will be found one of the grandest "Keeps" in Britain; and there railway communication may be again reached. Mortham Tower, to which Bertram and Wilfred went, the writer found well kept, although used as a farmhouse. It is about three miles from Barnard Castle, and stands remote from public roads, upon a broad, grassy hill, and within the grounds of Rokeby. It is an interesting example of a minor and later medieval fortified place, being far less extensive than either Barnard or Richmond. It is simply a square enclosure, having buildings upon three sides. At one angle is the square keep, battlemented, and bearing a little |