These men who imprisoned themselves were the last prisoners of Pontefract Castle, for after this the historic ground was sown with liquorice; but the Main Guardhouse was spared, as we see, and for another century or two kept up the gloomy traditions of the place as a prison.
The country that lies between Pontefract and Beverley is by no means beautiful. It is so aggressively dull that it may almost be called ugly. It is not for the sake of the scenery, truly, that we cover so many miles of Southern Yorkshire, but chiefly for the sake of Beverley Minster; and there are many, no doubt, who will prefer to make York or Pontefract the last stopping-place of their tour. Those who do not care for historical memories unless there be something beautiful connected with them I advise to drive across from York to Beverley by the most direct road.
Half-way between Pontefract and Knottingley we have once more a flashing glimpse of the Great North Road and the immense signposts that mark its dignity, and are in themselves a lesson in geography; at Chapel Haddlesey we cross a toll-bridge. These are the only incidents on this singularly uneventful route until we reach Selby; but as all good motorists very well know, the road without incidents is often as happy as the country without history, and the particular road that lies through these melancholy fields and unattractive villages is very fine. Those who depend on horses or trains cannot vary their speed according to the beauty of the country, but to us is given the special joy of sauntering through lovely landscapes and hurrying on when there is nothing to be seen.
In 1906 the name of Selby was brought into tragic prominence by the fire that made its abbey roofless and "only not a wreck." But as there are disastrous victories so there are beneficent calamities; and Selby Abbey, it seems, whose restoration has already been a triumph of energy, will soon be more complete than it has been since 1690, when the tower fell and ruined the south transept.
This grand church is the work of many hands. It is a mixture of every style of architecture, both within and without: Early Norman, Transition, Early English, Decorated, Perpendicular. The west front, for instance, has a splendid Norman doorway with five mouldings, and above it an Early English window filled with Perpendicular tracery. No part of this building was raised by the founder; and indeed it was not to this exact spot, but nearer to the Ouse, that Benedict of Auxerre, bringing with him "the glorious finger" of St. Germanus and the memory of a heavenly vision, came to set up his hut. The first benefactor of the foundation was the man who presented a tent to shelter the relic, round which a cluster of wooden buildings grew, and formed the first monastery of Selby. William the Conqueror gave land, and a charter, and many privileges; and Abbot Benedict won from the Pope the much-coveted honour of the mitre. William's charter was dated the year after the birth of Prince Henry, and its great generosity, it is said, was prompted by the fact that Selby was the birthplace of this favourite son of the king, Henry the fine scholar, Henry the lion of justice. To him, says an old chronicler, "Almighty God gave three gifts—wisdom, victory, and riches." Yet his wisdom failed him, alas, in the matter of lampreys!
WEST DOORWAY OF SELBY ABBEY.
It was Abbot Hugh, a member of that great house of de Lacy which gave so many fine buildings to England, who raised the abbey on the spot where it still stands. That massive pillar at the east end of the nave, the pillar with the spiral mouldings, was part of his work. It is even possible that some of its stones were actually laid in their places by his strenuous hands, for he worked with the builders. It is a fine picture—the beautiful pillar rising course by course towards the open sky, as Hugh de Lacy, abbot and noble, with infinite care and reverence fixed each stone in its place with a hymn of praise.