At Bolton the window may be seen from which she was lowered to
the
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ground, and one can trace the way she took in a north-easterly
direction across the rocky bed of the rushing stream into the woods
below the "Shawl." The window from which she escaped is the upper
one of the three running horizontally with the south-western tower.
There is another window to the prison-room which looks into the inner
courtyard. The apartment is grim and bare, with a small fireplace, and
steps leading down into a larger bare apartment, once the "drawing-
room." Though externally the castle is not so picturesque as
Middleham, it is much more perfect and interesting. The hooded
stone fireplaces remain in the walls, and various rooms can be
located, from the hall and chapel to the vault-like stables in the
basement. The well, too, is perfect, with scooped-out wall to the
upper chambers, not forgetting the awful dungeon in the solid rock. A
large apartment with wide Tudor fireplace has been converted into a
museum, and the curiosities are of a varied nature, from cocking
spurs and boxing-gloves from the sporting centres of Leyburn and
Middleham to the bull-fight banderillos of Spain. There is quite an
assortment of weird-looking instruments of torture, which, after all,
are only toasting-dogs, huge cumbrous things like antediluvian
insects or much magnified microbes. How is it these appurtenances
of domestic comfort have
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entirely died out like the now extinct warming-pan? But this museum
can no way be compared with Mr. Home's wonderful collections at
Leyburn. Here you can learn something about everything, for the
kindly proprietor of the museum takes a pride in describing his curios.
Those who have been to Middleham and seen the castle
immortalised by Shakespere, may here study Edward IV.'s fair hair.
As rare a curiosity is a valentine of the time of William III. From the treasures of Egyptian tombs you skip to the first invented matches;
from Babylonian inscriptions to early-Victorian samplers. And the
learned antiquarian relates how he was educated in the old Yore mill
at Aysgarth by old John Drummond, the grandson of the Jacobite
Earl of Perth, who had to hide himself in a farm in Bishopdale (How
Rig) for his hand in the '45, when the Scotch estates were
confiscated for aiding the cause of the Bonnie Prince. Were it not for
Mr. Home's interest in old-time customs, the bull-ring in the market-
place would have disappeared, for the socket was nearly worn
through when he had it repaired. He relates how at the last bull-
baiting the infuriated beast got away and sent the whole sportsmen
flying, and at length was shot in Wensley village.
Wensley nestles in the valley, surrounded by hills. The interior of the
chu
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rch is rich in carvings from the ruinous abbey of Easby, near
Richmond. The stalls from Easby have at the ends exceptionally bold
and elaborate carvings with heraldic shields and arms, dating from
the days of Edward IV. A nearly life-size brass, of the third Edward's
time, is of its kind one of the finest in England,—an ecclesiastic in robes, with crossed hands pointing downwards. By the entrance door
is a quaint old poor-box; but what first strikes the eye as you enter, is
the parclose screen from Easby Abbey, which, ill fitting its confined
space, partially blocks the windows; but the effect of the elaborate
carving against the tracery is very striking. It is early-Tudor in date, and belonged to the Scrope chantry, whose arms appear upon it, with
those of Fitz-Hugh, Marmion, and other noble families. Within this
screen, evidently a good many years later, a manorial pew was
made, the side of which is within the parclose. To amalgamate the
two, the latter has been somewhat mangled, doors having been
added, with a pendant aloft to balance other large hollow pendants in
the various arches. Unfortunately the whole has been painted with a
dull grey and grained, a feeble attempt to represent marble, and parts
of it are also gilt. A
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fixed settle has been added to the interior, so unless carefully
examined it is difficult to detect how the parclose and pew were made
into one. The two-decker pulpit and the wide old-fashioned pews
lined with faded green baize and pink rep, bring us back to more
modern times; but one would be loath to see them removed if
restoration funds were lavish. Beneath the great manorial pew lie at
rest the remains of the daughter of the thirteenth Lord Scrope, who by
marriage with the first Duke of Bolton brought the castle into the
Poulett family: until then the Scropes had held possession through
marriage with an heiress of the Nevills. The third wife of Charles
Poulett, second Duke of Bolton, was Henrietta Crofts, the daughter of
the Duke of Monmouth and Eleanor Needham.[34]
The Scrope who had charge of the Scots queen at Bolton Castle was
Henry, the eleventh lord, whose wife was sister to the captive's
plotting lover, the Duke of Norfolk, who also lost his head through
these ambitious schemes; and doubtless it was the duke who
contrived the queen's escape. She had been brought from the castle
of Carlisle in July 1568, but after her attempt to escape was promptly
removed (on January 26) to Tutbury Castle under charge of the Earl
of Shrewsbury. The furniture of her private altar at Bolton, the altar-cloth, part of a rosary, a small bronze crucifix, and an alms-bag, are
now preserved at Low Hall, Yeadon, mentioned earlier in this chapter.
Her hawking gloves also: these are said to have been given to Lord
Scrope upon her leaving.
Some miles to the west of Bolton is Nappa Hall (where the anc
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ient family of Metcalfe lived since the reign of Henry VI., and where Metcalfes live to-day), a fortified manor-house with square towers
(suggestive of Haddon), which also claims association with the
unfortunate queen. By some accounts she slept here one night, by
others two or more; and the tradition in the Metcalfe family says nine,
in the highest chamber of the tallest tower. The date is not known, but
probably she was brought here on her way from Carlisle Castle. The
bed on which she slept, the top of which was very low, is now at
Newby Hall, near Ripon. Our sanitary views being very distinct from
those enlightened times, the pillars of these sixteenth-century beds
are frequently raised (in some cases unnecessarily high), and unless
one wished to be half-smothered, this is a natural thing to do if the bed is to be put to practical use; but nowadays the collectors of
ancient furniture are again reducing the height, and bringing them
down to their original proportions.