Being at Osmotherly, seven miles from the cliffs, on Monday, June 1, and finding Edward Abbot there, I desired him the next morning to shew me the way thither. I walked, crept, and climbed round and over great part of the ruins. I could not perceive by any sign, that there was ever any cavity in the rock at all; but one part of the solid stone is cleft from the rest in a perpendicular line, and as smooth as if cut with instruments. Nor is it barely thrown down, but split into many hundred pieces, some of which lie four or five hundred yards from the main rock. The ground nearest the cliff, is not raised, but sunk considerably beneath the level. But at some distance it is raised in a ridge of eight or ten yards high, twelve or fifteen broad, and near a hundred long. Adjoining to this lies an oval piece of ground thirty or forty yards in diameter, which has been removed whole as it is, from beneath the cliff, without the least fissure, with all its load of rocks, some of which were as large as the hull of a small ship. At a little distance is a second piece of ground, forty or fifty yards across, which has been also transplanted entire, with rocks of various sizes upon it, and a tree growing out of one of them. By the removal of one or both of these, I suppose the hollow near the cliff was made. All round them lay stones and rocks, great and small, some on the surface of the earth, some half sunk into it, some almost covered, in variety of positions. Between these the ground was cleft asunder in a thousand places. Some of the apertures were nearly closed again, some gaping as at first. Between thirty and forty acres of land, as is commonly supposed, (though some reckon above sixty) are in this condition. On the skirts of these, I observed in abundance of places, the green turf (for it was pasture land) as it were pared off, two or three inches thick, and wrapt round like sheets of lead. A little farther it was not cleft or broken at all, but raised in ridges, five or six feet long, exactly resembling the graves in a church-yard. Of these there is a vast number. That part of the cliff from which the rest is torn, lies so high and is now of so bright a colour, that it is plainly visible to all the country round, even at the distance of several miles. We saw it distinctly not only from the street in Thirsk, but for five or six miles after, as we rode towards York. So we did likewise, in the great North road, between Sandhutton and Northallerton. But how may we account for this phenomenon? Was it effected by a merely natural cause? If so, that cause must either have been fire, water, or air. It could not be fire; for then some mark of it must have appeared, either at the time, or after it. But no such mark does appear, nor ever did not so much as the least smoke, either when the first or second rock was removed, or in the whole or in the whole space between Tuesday and Sunday. : It could not be water; for no water issued out, when the one or the other rock was torn off. Nor had there been any rains for some time before. It was in that part of the country a remarkably dry season. Neither was there any cavity in that part of the rock, wherein a sufficient quantity of water might have lodged. On the contrary, it was one, single, solid mass, which was evenly and smoothly cleft in sunder. There remains no other natural cause assignable, but imprisoned air. I say, imprisoned: for as to the fashionable opinion, that the exterior air is the grand agent in earthquakes, it is so senseless, unmechanical, unphilosophical a dream, as deserves not to be named, but to be exploded. But it is hard to conceive, how even imprisoned air could produce such an effect. It might indeed shake, tear, raise, or sink the earth, but how could it cleave a solid rock? Here was not room for a quantity of it, sufficient to do any thing of this nature; at least, unless it had been suddenly and violently expanded by fire, which was not the case. Could a small quantity of air, without that violent expan sion, have torn so large a body of rock from the rest, to which it adhered in one solid mass? Could it have shivered this into pieces, and scattered several of those pieces VOL. XI. D d some hundreds of yards round? Could it have transported those promontories of earth, with their incumbent load, and set them down unbroken, unchanged at a distance? Truly I am not so great a volunteer in faith, as to be able to believe this. He that supposes this, must suppose air to be not only very strong, (which we allow) but a very wise agent; while it bore its charge with so great caution, as not to hurt or dislocate any part of it. What then could be the cause? What indeed, but God, who arose to shake terribly the earth: who purposely chose such a place, where there is so great a concourse of nobility and gentry every year; and wrought in such a manner, that many might see it and fear, that all who travel one of the most frequented roads in England, might see it, almost whether they would or not, for many miles together. It must likewise for many years, maugre all the heart of man, be a visible monument of his power. All that ground being now so incumbered with rocks and stones, that it cannot be either ploughed or grazed. Nor can it well serve any use, but to tell all that see it, Who can stand before this great God? Who can account for the late motion in the waters? Not only that of the sea, and rivers communicating therewith, but even that in canals, fishponds, cisterns, and all either large or small bodies of water? It was particularly observed, that while the water itself was so violently agitated, neither did the earth shake at all, nor any of the vessels which contained that water. Was such a thing ever known or heard of before! I know not, but it was spoken of once, near eighteen hundred years ago, in those remarkable words, "There shall be suoi (not only earthquakes, but various concussions or shakings) in divers places. And so there have been in Spain, in Portugal, in Italy, in Holland, in England, in Ireland; and not improbably in many other places too, which we are not yet informed of. Yet it does not seem, that a concussion of this kind, has ever been known before, since either the same, or some other comet revolved so near the earth. For we know of no other natural cause in the universe, which is adequate to such an effect. And that this is the real cause, we may very possibly be convinced in a short time. But, alas! why should we not be convinced sooner, while that conviction may avail, that it is not chance which governs the world? Why should we not now, before London is as Lisbon, Lima, or Catanea, acknowledge the hand of the Almighty, arising to maintain his own cause ? Why, we have a general answer always ready, to screen us from any such conviction: "All these things are purely natural and accidental; the result of natural causes." But there are two objections to this answer: first, it is untrue; secondly, it is uncomfortable. First, If by affirming, "All this is purely natural," you mean, it is not providential, or that God has nothing to do with it, this is not true, that is, supposing the bible to be true. For supposing this, you may discant ever so long on the natural causes of murrain, winds, thunder, lightning, and yet you are altogether wide of the mark, you prove nothing at all, unless you can prove, that God never works in or by natural causes. But this you cannot prove, nay none can doubt of his so working, who allows the Scripture to be of God. For this asserts in the clearest and strongest terms that all things (in nature) serve him: that (by or without a train of natural causes) he "sendeth his rain on the earth," that he "bringeth the winds out of his treasures," and "maketh a way for the lightning and the thunder:" in general, that "fire and hail, snow and vapour, wind and storm, fulfil his word." Therefore, allowing there are natural causes of all these, they are still under the direction of the Lord of nature. Nay, what is nature itself but the art of God? Or God's method of acting in the material world? True philosophy therefore ascribes all to God, and says, in the beautiful language of the wise and good man, Here, like a trumpet, loud and strong, Thy thunder shakes our coast; While the red lightnings wave along, A second objection to your answer is, it is extremely uncomfortable. For if things really be as you affirm, if all these afflictive incidents, entirely depend on the fortuitous concourse and agency of blind, material causes; what hope, what help, what resource is left, for the poor sufferers by them? Should the murrain among the cattle continue a few years longer, and consequently produce scarcity or famine; what will there be left for many of the poor to do, but to lie down and die? If tainted air spread a pestilence over our land, where shall they flee for succour? They cannot resist either the one or other. They cannot escape from them. And can they hope to appease Illacrymabilem Plutona? "Inexorable Pluto, king of shades?" Shall they entreat the famine or the pestilence to shew mercy? Alas, they are as senseless as you suppose God to be. However, you who are men of fortune, can shift tolerably well, in spite of the difficulties. Your money will undoubtedly procure you food as long as there is any in the kingdom. And if your physicians cannot secure you from the epidemic disease, your coaches can carry you from the place of infection. Be it so: but you are not out of all danger yet; unless you can drive faster than the wind. Are you sure of this? And are your horses literally swifter than the lightning? Can they leave the panting storm behind? If not, what will you do when it overtakes you? Try your eloquence on the whirlwind? Will it hear your voice? Will it regard either your money, or prayers, or tears? Call upon the lightning. Cry aloud. See whether your voice will divide the flames of fire? O no! It hath no ears to hear. It devoureth and sheweth no pity. But this is not all. Here is a nearer enemy. The earth threatens to swallow you up, Where is your protection now? What defence do you find from thousands of gold |