The Old Hall of Calgarth, whose history, it has been said, belongs
to the world of shadows, but whose remains still form an object
of interest from their picturesqueness and antiquity, is situated
within a short distance of the water, upon the narrowest part of
a small and pleasant plain on the eastern shore of Windermere.
The house has been so much injured and curtailed of its original
proportions, that it is impossible to make out what has been
its precise form: many parts having gone entirely to decay, and
others being much out of repair; the materials having been used in
the erection of offices and outbuildings, for the accommodation
of farmers, in whose occupation it has been for a long period.
Its original character has been quite lost in the additions
and alterations of later days. It is however said to have been
constructed much after the style of those venerable Westmorland
mansions, the Halls of Sizergh and Levens. But there are few traces
of the "fair old building," which even so late as the year 1774,
Dr. Burn described it to be; and the destruction of this ancient
home of the Philipsons has well nigh been complete. What is now
called the kitchen, and the room over it, are the only portions of
the interior remaining, from which a judgment may be formed of the
care and finish that have been applied to its internal decoration.
In the former, which appears to have been one of the principal
apartments, though now divided, and appropriated to humble uses,
the armorial achievements of the Philipsons, crested with the five
ostrich plumes of their house, and surmounted by their motto,
"Fide non fraude," together with the bearings of Wyvill impaling
Carus, into which families the owners of Calgarth intermarried, are
coarsely represented in stucco over the hearth, and still serve to
connect their name with the house. The large old open fireplace has
been filled up by an insignificant modern invention. The window
still retains some fragments of its former display of heraldic
honours; the arms of the early owners, impaling those of Wyvill,
and the device of Briggs, another Westmorland family, with whom the
Philipsons were also matrimonially connected, yet appear in their
proper blazon. And in the same window, underneath the emblazonry,
is this legend, likewise in painted glass:--
Robart. Phillison.
and. Jennet. Laibor
ne. his. wife. he. die
d. in. anno. 1539
the. ZZ. Dece
mbar 1579
The old dining table of black oak, reduced in its dimensions,
occupies one side of this apartment. The room over the kitchen,
to which a steep stair rises from the threshold of the porch,
and which looks over the lake, has been nobly ornamented after
the fashion of the day, by cunning artists, and it still retains
in its dilapidated oak work, and richly adorned ceiling, choice,
though rude remnants of its former splendour. It has a dark
polished oak floor, and is wainscotted on three sides, with the
same tough wood, which, bleached with age, is elaborately carved in
regular intersecting panels, inlaid with scroll-work and tracery,
enriched by pilasters, and surmounted by an embattled cornice.
In this wainscot two or three doors indicate the entrances to
other rooms, whose approaches are walled up, the rooms themselves
having been long since destroyed. The ceiling is flat, and formed
into compartments by heavy square intersecting moulded ribs,
the intermediate spaces of which are excessively adorned with
cumbrous ornamental work of the most grotesque figures and designs
imaginable, amidst which festoons of flowers, fruits, and other
products of the earth, mingled with heraldic achievements, moulded
in stucco, yet exist, to tell how many times the fruitage and the
leaves outside have come and gone, have ripened and decayed, whilst
they endure unchanged.
In the window of the staircase leading to this chamber tradition
has localized the famous legend of the skulls of Old Calgarth. The
dilapidated, and somewhat melancholy appearance of the dwelling,
in concurrence with the superstitious notions which have ever been
common in country places, have probably given rise to a report,
which has long prevailed, that the house is haunted. Many stories
are current of the frightful visions and mischievous deeds, which
the goblins of the place are said to have performed, to terrify
and distress the harmless neighbourhood; and these fables are not
yet entirely disbelieved. Spectres yet are occasionally to be seen
within its precincts. And the two human skulls, whose history and
reputed properties are too singular not to have contributed greatly
to the story of the house being haunted, are, although out of
sight, still within it, and as indestructible as ever.
These were wont to occupy a niche beneath the window of the
staircase: and in 1775, when Mr. West visited the Hall, they still
remained in the place where they had lain from time immemorial. All
attempts, it is said, to dispossess them of the station they had
chosen to occupy, have invariably proved fruitless. As the report
goes, they have been buried, burnt, reduced to powder and dispersed
in the wind, sunk in the well, and thrown into the lake, several
times, to no purpose as to their permanent removal or destruction.
Till at length, so persistent was found to be their attachment to
the niche which they had selected for their abiding place, they are
said to have been, as a last resource to keep them out of sight,
walled up within it; and there they remain. Of course, many persons
now living in the neighbourhood can bear testimony to the fact
that the skulls did really occupy the place assigned to them by
tradition.
A popular tale of immemorial standing relates that the skulls were
those of an aged man and his wife, who lived on their own property
adjoining the lands of the Philipsons, whose head regarded it
with a covetous eye, and had long desired to number it among his
extensive domains. The owners however not being willing to part
with it, he determined in evil hour to have it at any cost.
The old people, as the story runs, were in the habit of going
frequently to the Hall, to share in the viands which fell from
the lord's table, for he was a bounteous man to the poor; and it
happened once that a pie was given to them, into which had been
put some articles of plate. After their return home, the valuables
were missed, and the cottage being searched, the things were found
therein. The result was as the author of the mischief had plotted.
They were accused of theft, tried, convicted, and sentenced to be
executed, and their persecutor ultimately got their inheritance.
When brought up for execution, the condemned persons requested the
chaplain in attendance to read the 109th psalm; for under their
circumstances, there was an awful significance in the imprecatory
verses, which denounced the conduct of evil doers like Philipson;
and in the solemn malison prophesied against the cruel, they
pronounced a curse upon the owners of Calgarth, which the gossips
of the neighbourhood say has ever since cast its blight upon the
proprietorship of the estate; and that, notwithstanding whatever
authentic records may prove to the contrary, the traditionary
malediction has been regularly fulfilled down to the present
time. After the death of his victims, the oppressor was greatly
tormented; for, as if to perpetuate the memory of such injustice,
and as a memento of their innocence, their skulls came and took
up a position in the window of one of the rooms in the Hall, from
whence they could not by any means be effectually removed, the
common belief being that they were for that end indestructible, and
it was stoutly asserted that to whatever place they were taken, or
however used, they invariably reappeared in their old station by
the window.
The property of Calgarth came by purchase into the possession of
the late Dr. Watson, Lord Bishop of Llandaff, who built a mansion
upon the estate, where he passed much of the later period of
his life: and who lies buried in the neighbouring churchyard of
Bowness. The Bishop's grandson, Richard Luther Watson, Esquire, is
the present possessor.
It is believed that anciently a burial ground was attached to the
buildings of Old Calgarth; as when the ground has been trenched
thereabouts, quantities of human bones have frequently been turned
over and re-buried. There are now in the dairy of the Old Hall
two flat tombstones, with the name of Philipson inscribed upon
them, which not very many years ago were dug up in the garden
near the house; their present use being a desecration quite in
accordance with the associations which hang around the place. This
circumstance may afford a clue to the re-appearance of the skulls
so frequently, after every art of destruction had been tried upon
them, in the mysterious chambers of Old Calgarth Hall.
The old house at Armboth, on Thirlmere, has also the reputation of
being occasionally at midnight supernaturally lighted up for the
reception of spectres, which cross the lake from Helvellyn for some
mysterious purpose within its walls. The long low white edifice
lying close under the fells which rise abruptly behind it, with
the black waters of the lake in front, has something very gloomy
and weird-like about its aspect, which does not ill accord with
those superstitious ideas with which it is sometimes associated.
As Miss Martineau has said, "there is really something remarkable,
and like witchery, about the house. On a bright moonlight night,
the spectator who looks towards it from a distance of two or three
miles, sees the light reflected from its windows into the lake; and
when a slight fog gives a reddish hue to the light, the whole might
easily be taken for an illumination of a great mansion. And this
mansion seems to vanish as you approach,--being no mansion, but a
small house lying in a nook, and overshadowed by a hill."
The City of Wytheburn is the name given to a few houses, some of
them graced by native trees, and others by grotesquely cut yew
trees, distant about half a mile from the head of Thirlmere.
BRITTA IN THE TEMPLE OF DRUIDS.
(THE LAST HUMAN SACRIFICE.)
Blencathra from his loftiest peak
Had often heard the victims' shriek,
When lapp'd by wreathing fire,
Their limbs in wicker bondage caged,
Dying, the draught and plague assuaged,
And calmed the Immortals' ire.
There came a Rumour,[7] strayed from far.
Helvellyn's bale-fire paled its star:
Hoarse Glenderaterra moaned.
The dark destroying angel fled:
And from Blencathra's topmost head
Old demons shrunk dethroned.
He saw beneath his rugged brow
The temple on the plain below,
By sacred Druids trod:
Mountains on mountains piled around;
Forests of oak with acorns crowned:
And distant, man's abode.
Where men had hewn by stream and dell
An opening in the woods to dwell,
The pestilence by night
Had fallen amidst their little throng;
Had changed, and stricken down the strong;
And put the weak to flight.
Who may the angry god appease?--
The oracle that all things sees,
And knows all laws divine,
Spake from the awful forest bower--
"A maiden in her virgin flower
Must her young life resign."--
Fallen is the lot on thee, so late
Betrothed to love, and now to fate.
Sweet Britta!--Forth she fares,
Led by the Druids to her doom,
Within that circle's ample room,
For which the rite prepares.
Fire cleanses: she must cleanse by fire.
With oaken garland, white attire,
Bearing the mistletoe,
Beside the wicker hut her feet
Pause--till her eyes her lover greet,
And cheer him as they go.
These two had heard of what had been
In Judah--of the Nazarene--
And talked of new things born
To them, that in their fathers' place
They might not speak of to their race,
But thought on eve and morn.
Now when the sound is given to pile
The branches each one--friends-erewhile,
Strangers, yea sisters, sire,
And brethren--all from far and near,--
Must furnish for the victim's bier;
His they in vain require.
No might of Druid, lord, or king,
Could move that hand one leaf to bring--
No, though they throng to slay.
Calmly beyond the crowd he stood,
Holding on high two staves of wood
Cross'd--till she turned away.
Then hoary Chief, Arch Druid, came
Thy hands to minister the flame,
Wrought from the quick-rubb'd pine.
It touch'd: it leapt: the branches blazed!
When to the hills they looked amazed,
And owned the wrath divine.
Bellowed the mountains, and cast forth
Their waters, east, south, west, and north.
Rivers and mighty streams
Down from their raging sides out-poured
Their cataracts, and in thunders roared
Along earth's opening seams.
They rolled o'er all the temple's bound,
Quenching the angry fire around
The hut unscathed by flame:
Then backward to their source retired.
While like a seraph's form inspired
The white-robed maiden came.
Upon her fair head garlanded
No brightest leaflet withered--
No berry from her hand
Dropt, of the branching mistletoe--
With crossing palms and paces slow
She mov'd across the land.
Then loud the hoary Druid cried,
"The god we serve is satisfied!
His are the unbidden powers.
A human sacrifice no more
He needs, our dwellings to restore,
And devastated bowers.
For thee, a maiden fair and pure,
Thou hast a treasure made secure
In heaven: depart in peace.
Earth's voices witness of a faith
In thee serene and sure, that saith
Here we too soon must cease."