Anne Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, who rustled through this archway many a time, no doubt, while the castle of her ancestors was being repaired at her charges, was a very busy woman. "Her house was a home for the young, and a retreat for the aged; an asylum for the persecuted, a college for the learned, and a pattern for all." She restored six castles, we are told, and built seven churches and two hospitals; she erected a monument to Spenser; she wrote some memoirs, too, with a record of all these things, and wherever she made her mark she stamped her initials. You can see them, very large and clear, if you look overhead upon the leaden spouting of this court, and you may see them again in the windows of the church. Anne Clifford's disposition was in no respect a retiring one, as we may gather from her famous answer to the Secretary of State who wished a nominee of his own to stand for her borough of Appleby. "I have been bullied by a usurper," she said, "and neglected by a Court, but I will not be dictated to by a subject. Your man shall not stand."
Her work in restoring her castle of Skipton was no light undertaking, for it had lately endured a three years' siege by the army of the Parliament, and its seven towers must have been sadly battered before the day of its proud surrender. So defiant was that surrender that the garrison marched out through the great entrance gate beneath the motto of the Cliffords, "accordingley to the Honour of a Souldier, with colours flying, Trumpets sounding, Drums beating, Matches lighted at both ends, and Bullets in their Mouthes," while the commissioned officers took with them "their wearing apparell that was properley their owne in their Portmantles."
One other pious work did Anne perform. She made a magnificent tomb for her father the Admiral, third Earl of Cumberland—who fought the Armada with the Queen's glove in his hat—and she set upon it seventeen armorial shields, all gilt and painted, and a mighty black marble slab, and a list of honours. We may see it in the chancel of the church she repaired; this grey church that stands so picturesquely at the end of the long street, with the hollyhocks and daisies brightening its dark walls. Opposite to the grave of Lady Pembroke's father is that of her little brother, "an infant of most rare towardness in all the appearances that might promise wisdome"; and near to this is the splendid tomb, with restored brasses, of the first Earl of Cumberland. Such of the earlier Cliffords as found burial at all, including the Shepherd Lord, were laid in Bolton Abbey, whose monks were connected with this church and gave it the delicately carved screen that adds so much to its beauty.
It is sometimes said or hinted that Jane Clifford, the Rose of the World, was in some way connected with Skipton. This can hardly be the case, however, for the Fair Rosamund was born and spent her childhood on the banks of the Wye, and was laid in her temporary grave at Godstowe long before Edward II. gave this castle to the Cliffords who came after her.
From Skipton, where homely comfort may be found at the sign of the "Black Horse," an expedition should be made to Malham and its famous Cove, about twelve miles away; and if time allows, the run may be lengthened very enjoyably by rejoining the main road at Hellifield and skirting the moors as far as Clapham or Ingleton. In this way we shall see something of the craggy country of Craven, of which Camden wrote long ago: "What with huge stones, steep rocks, and rough ways, this place is very wild and unsightly." The huge stones and steep rocks are still there, but the way by which we go is very far from being rough; it is, on the contrary, such an exceptionally fine road that it seems almost a pity to leave it. Those who wish to see Malham, however, must turn off at Gargrave or Coniston.
Much has been written concerning Malham Cove, and many long adjectives used. Some writers have even declared themselves terrified by it; but these, I think, must have been of a timid temperament. It is the position of the place, no doubt, that has this overwhelming effect upon some minds: the sudden and unexpected presence of a great semi-circular cliff amid quiet undulating fields. If one could be carried blindfold to the foot of it I can imagine that it would be truly imposing; but it is visible from a distance as a grey scar on the face of the green hillside, and thus a good deal of its effect is lost in the course of a gradual approach. The best way to reach it is to walk across the fields from Malham village, following the course of the Aire, the stream that tunnels its way so strangely into the Cove. There is, it is true, a narrow and steep road which commands a fine view of it as a whole, but there is no room here for any but a small car to turn, and there is no doubt that the cliff can best be seen on foot.
This is true also of its more imposing neighbour, Gordale Scar. Says Wordsworth—
"Let thy feet repair
To Gordale chasm, terrific as the lair
Where young lions couch,"
and indeed, as the hill that approaches Gordale Chasm is nearly as terrific as the chasm itself, it is certainly best, if not imperative, to repair to it on thy feet. I believe that the tarn which lies upon the moor above Malham Cove, and long ago belonged to the monks of Fountains, may be reached by road, but I have not been there myself.