THE CLIFF, STAITHES.
II
THE COAST
When one is approaching the coast of Yorkshire from the north, the important thing is to avoid the manufacturing towns of Stockton and Middlesbrough. This can be done by crossing the Tees at Yarm, and joining the splendid road that runs so straightly from this point to the sea. Those who have come from the dales will notice at once, even in Yarm, how greatly the houses here differ from the houses of the west. In that fair land the buildings, both small and great, have the character common to moorland buildings: they are stern and sturdy and grey; made not to please the eye, but to endure the buffetings of wind and rain. But these houses of the plain, it seems, do their best to provide the beauty that is lacking in scenery. They are warm and picturesque, red and tiled and gabled, a feature in the landscape. The wide street of Yarm, with its trees and grass and pretty buildings, has almost a foreign air. Beyond it is the straight road with the magnificent surface.
The views from this road, to right and left, are rather striking, each in its own way. On the left the scene is not beautiful, yet not without romance—the romance that is hidden under so much that is ugly. That long, long line of tall chimneys and distant masts, that cloud of smoke that darkens all the sky, are symbols of the spirit of adventure, of the love of enterprise, of untiring progress, of belief in the future; for surely the history of our commerce has included all these things. It was from Stockton that the first railway in the world ran to Darlington; and in Middlesbrough many of our merchant ships are built. Eighty years ago about a hundred people lived there: to-day there are a hundred thousand under that black pall.
To the right of us is an equally long line of another sort—the line of the Cleveland Moors. The curious excrescence of Roseberry Topping is conspicuous from the first, and even at this distance the monument to Captain Cook is visible on the hillside. For it was in the little village of Marton, through which we pass on our way to Guisborough, that James Cook was born, and learnt his lessons in the village school when not employed in scaring crows. Roseberry Topping, at first sight, looks like a huge tumulus. "It is the landmark that directs sailers, and a prognostick to the neighbours hereabouts." The view from its summit has been described by many writers, with degrees of enthusiasm varying from the "most agreeable prospect" of Camden to the ardour of another traveller, who declared that "there you may see a vewe the like whereof I never saw, or thinke that any traveller hath seene any comparable unto yt." A certain discreet author, quoting these words a hundred years ago, says gravely: "Accurate observation and comparison forbid us to ratify this assertion in its full extent."
The base of Roseberry Topping is largely composed of alum. In the reign of Elizabeth some alum works were set up at Guisborough, but were solemnly cursed by the Pope. His Holiness, it transpired, was himself the owner of some alum works.