_Queen Mary I.—Lake of Winandermere.—Ambleside.—Lake of Coniston.—
Kirkstone Mountain.—Lake of Brotherwater.—Paterdale.—Lake of
Ulswater.—Penrith._
Friday, July 16.
Kendal, though less populous and less busy than the noisy manufacturing
towns which we have left behind us, is yet a place of thriving industry,
and has been so during some centuries. The most interesting fact
connected with its history is this; after the death of Henry VIII. his
daughter, the pious Mary, being deeply concerned for the state of his
unhappy soul, would fain have set apart the revenues of this parochial
church as a fund for masses in his behalf. She consulted proper persons
upon this matter, who assured her that the pope would never consent to
it; and she then, still endeavouring to hope that he was not utterly out
of the reach of intercession, gave the advowson to a college which he
had founded in Cambridge, thinking that, as the foundation of this
college was the best thing he had done for himself, the best thing she
could do for him would be to augment its revenues for his sake.
The morning threatened rain, luckily, as it induced us to provide
ourselves with umbrellas, a precaution which we might otherwise have
neglected. They make these things in England to serve also as
walking-sticks, by which means they are admirably adapted for foot
travellers. Much rain has fallen lately in this neighbourhood; and the
influx of such visitors as ourselves is so great, that the person of
whom we purchased these umbrellas told us, he had sold forty in the
course of the week.
After breakfast we began our march. You would have smiled to see me with
the knapsack buckled over my breast, and a staff in hand, which, if not
so picturesque as the pilgrim's, is certainly more convenient in so
showery a land as this. Our way was up and down steep hills, by a good
road. The carts of this country are drawn by a single horse; and this is
conceived to be so much the best mode of draught, that the Board of
Agriculture is endeavouring to make it general throughout the kingdom.
In about two hours we came in sight of Winandermere, _mere_ being
another word for lake. We had now travelled over two leagues of
uninteresting ground, where the hills were so high as to excite
expectation of something to be seen from the summit which we were
toiling up, and when we had reached the summit, not high enough to
realize the expectation they had excited. The morning had been
over-cast; twice we had been obliged to our portable penthouses for
saving us from a wetting; the sun had oftentimes struggled to show
himself, and as often was overclouded again after ineffectual gleams:
but now, when we had reached the height from which our promised land was
indeed visible, the weather ceased to be doubtful, the sun came fairly
forth, the clouds dispersed, and we sat down upon a little rock by the
road side to overlook the scene, perhaps with greater pleasure, because
we had at one time so little hope of beholding it in such perfection.
The lake which lay below us is about three leagues in length: but a long
narrow island stretches athwart it in the middle, and divides it into
two parts. The lower half resembles a broad river, contracting its
breadth towards the extremity of the view, where the hills on both sides
seem to die away. The upper end is of a more complicated, but far nobler
character. Here the lake is considerably wider; it is studded with many
little islands, and surrounded with mountains, whose varieties of form
and outline it would be hopeless to attempt describing. They have not
that wavy and ocean-like appearance, which you have seen round you among
some of our sierras; each has its individual form and character; and the
whole have a grandeur, an awfulness, to which till now I had been a
stranger. Two or three boats were gliding with white sails upon this
calm and lovely water. The large island in the middle is planted with
ornamental trees, and in the midst of it is a house, for the
architecture of which no other excuse can be offered, than that, being
round, and other houses usually square, something unusual may be
conceived to suit so singular a situation. We were eager for a nearer
view, and proceeded cheerfully to Bowness, a little town upon its shore;
and from thence to the end of a long tongue of land, whence we crossed
to an inn called the Ferry, on the opposite bank,—a single house,
overshadowed by some fine sycamore trees, which grow close to the
water-side.
We were directed to a castellated building above the inn, standing upon
a craggy point, but in a style so foolish, that, if any thing could mar
the beauty of so beautiful a scene, it would be this ridiculous edifice.
This absurdity is not remembered when you are within, and the spot is
well chosen for a banqueting-house. The room was hung with prints,
representing the finest similar landscapes in Great Britain and other
countries, none of the representations exceeding in beauty the real
prospect before us. The windows were bordered with coloured glass, by
which you might either throw a yellow sunshine over the scene, or frost
it, or fantastically tinge it with purple.—Several boats were anchored
off the island; the neighbouring islets appeared more beautiful than
this inhabited one, because their trees and shrubs had not the same
trim, plantation-appearance, and their shores were left with their
natural inequalities and fringe of weeds, whereas the other was built up
like a mound against the water.
After dinner we landed on the island, a liberty which is liberally
allowed to strangers: having perambulated its winding walks, we rowed
about among the other islets, enjoying the delightful scene till
sun-set. Kingdoms, it is said, are never so happy as during those years
when they furnish nothing for historians to record: I think of this now,
when feeling how happy I have been to-day, and how little able I am to
describe this happiness. Had we been robbed on the road, or overtaken by
storms and upset in the lake, here would have been adventures for a
letter:—do not however suppose that I am ambitious of affording you
entertainment at any such price.
* * * * *
Saturday.
We slept at the Ferry House, and the next morning recrossed the water,
and proceeded along a road above the lake, but parallel with it, to the
little village of Ambleside, which is one of the regular stations on the
tour. The upper end of Winandermere became more majestic as we advanced,
mountains of greater height and finer forms opened upon us. The borders
of the lake were spotted with what the English, in opposition to our
application of the word, call _villas_, for which it would be difficult
to find a term,—single houses of the gentry, the _casarias_ of the rich,
which distinguish England so much from other countries, not only in its
appearance, but in the very name of its society. A stronger contrast
cannot well be imagined than that of a shore thus ornamented, and the
wild mountains beyond;—yet wooded hills and crags rising one above the
other, harmonized the whole into one accordant and lovely scene. Grand
and awful I called these mountains yesterday: they are so, and yet the
feeling which the whole scene produces is less that of awe than of
delight. The lake and its green shores seem so made for summer and
sunshine joyousness, that no fitter theatre could be devised for
Venetian pageantry, with the Bucentaur and all its train of gondolas. I
wished for Cleopatra's galley, or for the silken-sailed ships of the
days of chivalry, with their blazonry, their crimson awnings, their
serpent-shaped hulks, music at the prow, and masquers dancing on the
deck.
Several carriages passed us, and when we reached Ambleside the inn was
full, and they were obliged to lodge us in the village, so great is the
concourse of visitors to these Lakes. Some of the old houses here, with
their open balconies, resemble our cottages and posadas; but these
vestiges of former times will not exist much longer. New houses are
building, old ones modernized, and marks of the influx of money to be
seen every where.
It was noon when we arrived, for the distance was not quite two leagues.
Two smaller lakes were to be seen within a league of Ambleside, called
Ryedale and Grasmere, and two waterfalls on the way. This was our
afternoon's walk, and a more beautiful one perhaps is not to be found in
the wide world. My own recollections are so inadequately represented by
any form of words, that it is best to give up the attempt as hopeless.
One of the waterfalls, however, is of so singular a character that it
may be imagined from description. We were admitted into a little hut,
and then beheld it from the window of a rude room, falling under a
bridge, into a bason between rocks which were overhung with trees. Every
thing is upon so small a scale, that the trick of surprise is not
offensive, and the sort of frame through which it was seen, not
dissuitable to the picture. On our way back we took shelter from a
shower in a cottage, where the mistress was making oaten cakes, the
bread of this province. The dough being laid on a round board, which was
a little hollowed, she clapped it out with her hands till it covered the
board; then slipt it off upon a round iron plate of the same size, which
was placed over a wood fire; and when the cake was crisp on the one
side, as it soon became, being very thin, she turned it. We tasted of
this bread: it was dry, but not unpleasant. They who are accustomed to
it like it well, and think it nutritious; but it is said to produce or
aggravate cutaneous diseases.
* * * * *
Sunday.
The English are not quite so mad in their own country as they are
abroad; and yet follies enough are committed at home to show that
travelling Englishmen are no unfaithful representatives of their
countrymen. We had as singular an instance of their characteristic folly
this morning as could be wished. D. and I were on our way to visit
Coniston Lake, when, as we were ascending a hill, we saw an open
carriage drawn by two horses coming down: the body of the carriage was
placed upon the wheels with the back part forwards, and a gentleman was
driving with his back to the horses, and never looking round. The hill
was steep, and the road winding; he was going at no very safe pace; and
if the horses had not been more cautious than their master, we might
very probably have had an opportunity of seeing what it was in the
inside of his head, which supplied the place of brains. Some wager must
have been the occasion of this prank.
It was but a dreary road to Coniston, of two leagues,—neither were we
well repaid when we got there by the sight of a lake extending into a
tame country. Had we approached from the other end it would not perhaps
have disappointed us, but we came from the mountains at its head,
instead of advancing towards them. Slates of remarkable size are used
for fences and in building about this neighbourhood. They are so high
that I saw one row forming the whole front of a cottage, and in another
place a house-porch was constructed of four, one on each side, and two
leaning against each other for the roof. The quarry is among the
mountains.
The language of the people here is almost unintelligible to me; it
resembles Scotch more than English. D. is frequently at a loss to
understand their meaning, though they seem to have no difficulty in
understanding him.
* * * * *
On Monday we left Ambleside, and toiled up Kirkstone Mountain, perhaps
the longest and most laborious pass in England, a full league up, though
the highest point of the road is considerably below the summit of the
mountain. Immediately upon beginning to descend, a striking scene opened
upon us; we were between two walls of rock, and on the left hand a
brook, increased by innumerable streams from the heights on either side,
rolled down a rocky channel. This opening soon spread into a vale, which
continued to widen before us as we advanced. Here we saw scattered
cottages built of loose stones and covered with slates, both roof and
sides so rudely built, so tinged by weather, and clothed with ferns and
mosses, as to blend with the colours of the natural scenery, almost as
if they had been things of nature themselves, and not the work of man.
They are the rudest cottages which I have seen in England, and indicate
either great laziness in the inhabitants, or dismal poverty.
In this rude vale we met a travelling Jew pedlar, laden with barometers
and thermometers. What an extraordinary land is this! In a place as wild
and savage as the desert of Batuecas might we have purchased such
weather-glasses, as certainly it would be hopeless to seek for in most
of the cities in Spain.
The waters which accompanied our descent spread themselves into a little
lake in the valley, called Brotherwater; small, but exquisitely
beautiful. I have never seen a single spot more beautiful or more
rememberable. The mountain behind,—it is one of the highest in the
country,—forms a cove, in which a single old mansion stands in a green
field among old trees. The most rigid Jeronymites could not wish for a
place of more total seclusion. Out of this lake flowed a little river,
clear, rapid, and melodious; we crossed it, and our path lay along its
banks. How often did I stop and look back, and close my eyes to open
them again, as if repetition could better impress the landscape upon
remembrance than continuity; the delight I felt was mingled with sorrow
by a sense of transitoriness;—it was even painful to behold scenes so
beautiful, knowing that I should never behold them more.
We had started early, to have the day before us, so that we reached
Paterdale to breakfast; the distance was two leagues and a half, enough
to raise an appetite even had it been plain ground,—and the mountain air
had made us almost ravenous. If the people of the inn had not been
prepared for a succession of numerous visitors, our hunger might have
looked for supplies in vain: and if many of their visitors were as
hungry as ourselves, they would breed a famine in the land. No banquet,
no wines could have exhilarated us more than food. We truly felt the joy
of health and the reward of exercise.
The abundance of water in these vales is more delightful than can be
imagined. Nothing languishes here for drought. It is the midst of
summer, and the brooks are full. If the sound of a tank or a water-wheel
is so agreeable, judge what the voice must be of these living streams,
now breaking round rocks, which, in the process of ages, they have worn
smooth, now leaping and foaming from crag to crag, now coursing over a
bed of pebbles. How little do our Valverdes and Valparaisos bear
comparison with these vales, which are kept always green by streams
which never fail!
Here we took boat upon the lake of Ulswater. The beauties of
Winandermere, highly as they had excited our admiration, seemed as
nothing when we compared them with this grander country. Higher
mountains rose here immediately from the Lake, and instead of villas and
gardens there was a forest on the shore. On Winandermere I had wished
for gondolas and mirth and music;—here I should have felt that they were
incongruous with the scene, and with the feelings which it awakened.—The
domestic architecture of the English is however so abominable that it
will spoil whatever can be spoilt. There is a detestable house here
belonging to a gentleman, who, for his great possessions in the vale, is
called the King of Paterdale. Wherever it is seen it is as impertinent
and offensive as the old _Gracioso_[10] in a scene of real passion.
Ulswater forms three reaches,—each three miles in length. The whole can
never be seen at one view, nor indeed any two of the reaches except from
their point. We landed near a singular building, which serves as a
hunting-seat for the duke of Norfolk, and we were admitted to see a
waterfall in his garden. Nature produces as endless varieties of scenery
with the elements of wood, water, and rock, as she does of countenance
with the features of the human face, and it is as hopeless to delineate
by words the real character of one as of the other. Ara Force is the
name of this waterfall. A chaise passed us as we were returning to the
boat; there were three picturesque tourists in it, and one of them was
fast asleep in the corner.
The lake and the mountains end together; a broad and rapid river called
the Emont flows out of it. We landed, and proceeded a league and quarter
through a cultivated country to Penrith, a town which, though we should
have thought little of it in any other part of England, seems here, by
comparison, like a metropolis. The flies have grievously tormented us
upon our walk. I used to complain of our mosquitos, but they have at
least the modesty to wait for night and darkness;—these English
tormentors attack man to his face in broad day-light. Certainly they are
of the same species as those which were chosen to be one of the plagues
of Egypt.
[10] The buffoon of the Spanish stage.—TR.