Hinterland

From Dracula’s abbey to Alan the Red’s castle, this corner of Yorkshire is an architectural wonderland

Recent editions of the Pevsner Architectural Guides – a series of books, begun in the 1950s, documenting the most important architecture of the British Isles – have included increasingly erudite introductions about the prehistory, archaeology and geology of the counties they cover, and a genre-by-genre overview of the buildings included in each gazetteer. The latest updated volume in the series, dedicated to the North Riding of Yorkshire (keeping to the historic pre-1974 county boundaries), is packed with details about the area’s varied landscapes, building materials and rich history.

The North Riding has Roman remains, and later was raided by Vikings and settled by Saxons. Although fine Norman details survive in the region’s churches – such as the “spectacular” chancel arch of St Michael’s in Liverton, near Saltburn-by-the-Sea – the riding’s great ecclesiastical monuments are the ruins of its abbeys, derelict since the dissolution of the monasteries in the 1530s, but conserved actively since the early 20th century.

The remains of Byland, dating back to the late 12th century, are extensive. The abbey once housed 80 monks and 160 lay brethren, and like most such ruins stands in a stunning valley landscape. Jervaulx has survived less well, though what is left after pillaging by the Georgians has been conserved superbly. Whitby’s silhouette on its hilltop will be forever associated with Dracula. The remains date to the early 13th century, but a religious house has stood here since at least the 7th century. It is one of England’s more breathtaking sights.

The riding’s foremost ruin, however, is that of Rievaulx

Abbey, at the foot of the North York Moors, the second largest Cistercian remains in the country after Fountains Abbey in the

West Riding. The guide suggests that, in the mid-13th century, when the abbey was finished, it must have been one of the most imposing pieces of architecture in England: a “glorious sight”. It still is, though one is forced to use one’s imagination to envisage the full glory.

The riding also has some fine castles. The best known is Richmond, begun just five years after the Norman Conquest by the splendidly-named Alan the Red.

Its focal point is its marvellous keep, about 100ft high. Although not unique – the guide compares it with Rochester in Kent and Castle Hedingham in Essex – it towers over the little market town. Middleham Castle, whose origins can also be traced back to Alan the Red, has even more extensive ruins and a slightly bigger keep, and deserves to be better known. The guide describes the 14th-century Bolton Castle as “a climax of British military architecture”. It is one of the best preserved medieval structures in the country.

By the 18th century, magnates were building for show and comfort and not for protection. One of the finest examples is the North Riding’s Castle Howard.

The sumptuously decorated baroque temple is of uncertain provenance: the guide debates whether Vanbrugh or Hawksmoor

Whitby’s silhouette on its hilltop is one of England’s more breathtaking sights

was the main architect. The former had no experience as an architect when the plans were drawn up in 1699; the latter had only done buildings of the second rank before then. Lord Carlisle, who commissioned the house, also put in his oar – the guide concludes that the contributions to the design of the house from him and the two other architects are indistinguishable. Their final creation was a masterpiece.

The riding’s coastline, with some of the highest cliffs in England, brings us to the town I have always considered the real gem of the region: Scarborough. Although the Romans (definitely) and the Vikings (possibly) established settlements there, the excellent Georgian architecture in the town echoes its success as an 18th-century spa. But it is the spectacular Grand Hotel of 1867, by Cuthbert Brodrick, that sets the tone for all such buildings in resorts around the country. The guide calls it “a High Victorian gesture of assertion and confidence”, and so it is. But it was merely perpetuating a desire to build big and to make a statement: an impulse that in the North Riding dates back the best part of a thousand years.