_Departure from the Lakes.—Wigton.—Carlisle.—Penrith.—The Borderers.—
The Pillar of the Countess.—Appleby.—Brough.—Stainmoor.—
Bowes.—Yorkshire Schools._
Monday.
We were now to leave the land of lakes and turn our faces towards
London. The regular road would have been to have returned to Penrith,
and there have met the stage; but it would cost us only half a day's
journey to visit Carlisle from whence it starts; and a city whose name
occurs so often in English history, being the frontier town on this part
of the Scotish border, was deserving of this little deviation from the
shortest route. For Carlisle, therefore, we took chaise from Keswick,
the distance being eight leagues. Our road lay under Skiddaw, and, when
we had advanced about five miles, overlooked the lake of Bassenthwaite,
nearly the whole of its length. We now perceived the beauty of this
water, which, because of its vicinity to Keswick, is contemptuously
overlooked by travellers; and the sight of its wooded shores, its
mountainous sides, with its creeks and bays, and the grand termination
formed by the Borrodale mountains as we looked back, made us regret that
we had not devoted a day to exploring it. The road at length bent to the
eastward, leaving the lake; and shortly afterwards, walking up a steep
hill, we had a new and striking view of the vale. The Lake of Keswick
was hidden behind Brandelow, the long mountain which forms its western
bank: over this appeared the mountains behind the waterfall of Lodore,
and over these we could distinguish the point of a remarkable mountain
at the head of Winandermere. This was our last view of this lovely
country: and a certainty that it was the last, that no circumstances
could ever lead me to it again, made me gaze longer and more earnestly,
as if to fix deeper in my memory so exquisite a landscape. I remembered
the day of my departure from my father's house, and, for the first time,
anticipated with fear the time when I should leave England, never to
return to it.
We had left the mountains, but their roots or outworks extended to some
distance before the plain began. The road lay over an open country of
broken ground, with hills at a little distance, enclosed in square
patches, and newly, as it appeared, brought into cultivation. There was
not a single tree rising in the hedge-rows. Our stage was to Wigton,
five leagues and a half, which is unusually far. The postboy rested his
horses at Ireby, one of those townlets in which every thing reminds us
of the distance from a metropolis. It consists of a few houses forming
something like a plaza, grass grows between the stones of the pavement,
and the children came clattering round us in their wooden shoes, as if
the sight of a chaise were a novelty. We soon gained an eminence, from
whence the flat country opened upon us. Solway Firth and the Scotish
mountains lay to the north, to the east and south the plain extended as
far as we could see;—a noble prospect, and to us the more striking as we
had been so much among the close scenery of a mountainous district. We
passed near a quadrangular farm-house, which the driver told us was
built like those in Scotland. The dwelling and out-houses are round the
fold, and the dung-hill in the middle of the court. This form was
evidently devised for defence against cow-stealers.
Wigton bears all the marks of increasing prosperity. It is not many
years since its market was held on Sunday, and the country people bought
their meat before they went into church, carried it into the church with
them, and hung it over the back of their seats till the service was
over. The many well-drest inhabitants whom we beheld were sufficient
proof that no such custom could now be tolerated there. Good inns, good
shops, carts and chaises in the streets, and masons at work upon new
houses, were symptoms of rapid improvement. They paint their houses with
a dark red, thus hiding and disfiguring good stone; perhaps it may be
thought the paint preserves the stone, but there can be no good reason
for preferring so abominable a colour. Going up the stairs of the inn I
noticed a common alehouse print of the battle of Wexford, which was an
action with the Irish insurgents, in the late rebellion in that country.
It represented a lady, by name Miss Redmond, at the head of the rebels,
who is said to have taken arms to revenge the death of her lover. The
artist was probably a well-wisher to the Irishmen.
From hence to Carlisle was less than three leagues, and the cathedral
was in view over the plain. We met carts upon the way having wheels of
primitive rudeness, without spokes, such as are used in our country, and
which I have never till now seen since I left it. One of these wheels we
saw by the road side, laid against the bank as a stile, its two holes
serving as ladder-steps to ascend by. Carlisle is the capital of these
parts, and is indeed a great city. While dinner was preparing we
hastened to the cathedral. Its tower would not be thought fine upon a
parochial English church, and looks the worse for standing upon so large
a body. The inside, however, proved far more interesting than the
exterior had promised. The old stalls remain, admirably carved in
English oak, which rivals stone in durability; but the choir is
disfigured by a double row of those vile partitions which crowd and
debase all the heretical churches; and the window, instead of old
painted glass, of which every pane is stained, having only a border of
bright yellow, with corners of bright green, round uncoloured
compartments, flings a glaring and ill-assorted light. The lives of
St Augustine, St Anthony the Great, and St Cuthbert, are represented
here in a series of pictures. They were plaistered over at the time of
the schism, but have been lately recovered as much as possible, by the
exertions of Percy, the antiquary and poet, who is a dignitary of this
church. As vestiges of antiquity they are curious; but otherwise they
might well have been spared, the subjects being taken from those
fabulous legends by which men of mistaken piety have given so much
occasion of scandal. One of them represents the devil appearing to
St Augustine, with a large book upon his back, fastened with great
clasps, which is the register wherein he keeps his account of sins
committed, and it seems a sufficient load for him. He had brought it to
show the Saint his debtor account, which we are to suppose has been
cancelled by immediate prayer, for the devil is saying, _Pœnitet me tibi
ostendisse librum_, 'I repent having shown thee the book.' Over some of
the oldest tombs we noticed a remarkable form of arch, which might be
adduced as an example of the sylvan origin of Gothic architecture: it
resembles a bent bough, of which the branches have been lopt, but not
close to the stem.
The city walls, which half a century ago were capable of defence, are
now in a state of decay; the castle is still guarded, because within the
court there is a depositary of arms and field-pieces. Here is an entire
portcullis, formed of wood cased with iron. Manufactories of late
introduction have doubled the population within few years, but with
little addition to the decent society of the place. Poor Scotch and poor
Irish chiefly make up the increase, and the city swarms with
manufacturing poor in their usual state of depravity. We are once more
in the land of salmon. Some of the natives here take this fish with a
dexterity truly savage; they ride on horseback into the water, and
pierce them with a heavy trident as long as a tilting-spear.
I observe many peculiarities at our inn. Two grenadiers painted upon
wood, and then cut out to the picture so as to resemble life, keep
guard, one at the bottom of the stairs, another half way up. They
brought us a singular kind of spoon in our negus,—longer than the common
one, the stem round, twisted in the middle, and ending in a heavy button
or head, the heavy end being placed in the glass, and designed to crush
the sugar. The boot-cleaner is an old Scotchman, with all the proverbial
civility of his nation;—he entered with a low bow, and asked if we would
_please to give him leave_ to clean our boots. My bed curtains may serve
as a good specimen of the political freedom permitted in England.
General Washington is there represented driving American Independence in
a car drawn by leopards, a black Triton running beside them, and blowing
his conch,—meant, I conceive, by his crown of feathers, to designate the
native Indians. In another compartment, Liberty and Dr Franklin are
walking hand in hand to the Temple of Fame, where two little cupids
display a globe, on which America and the Atlantic are marked. The tree
of liberty stands by, and the stamp-act reversed is bound round it. I
have often remarked the taste of the people for these coarse allegories.
* * * * *
Tuesday.
At six we were on the roof of the stage-coach on our return to London
after this long journey. We saw symptoms of our vicinity to Scotland
upon the road. Scotch drovers were on their way home, men who are
employed in driving lean cattle into England to be fattened for the
English market; they wore instead of a hat a sort of flat turban, and
had a large mantle of gray checquered cloth scarft round them, a costume
far more graceful than the English. One woman we saw walking barefoot,
and carrying her shoes in her hand.—"'Tis the way they do in Scotland,"
said the coachman, who seemed to pride himself on having been born the
south side of the border. Skiddaw appeared to our right, in a new form,
and of more impressive magnitude than when we first beheld it at its
foot, because we were aware of the distance, and knew by experience its
height. During the whole of the first stage the road inclined towards
the mountains which we had left:—we did not look at them without
something of regret, remembering hours and days spent among them, in
that happy state of health, both bodily and mental, which extracts
enjoyment even from difficulty and toil.
We breakfasted at Penrith. There are the remains of a castle here on a
little eminence, which have been much dilapidated of late;—a fine
gateway has been pulled down for the sake of the materials, and after it
had been demolished, the stones were found to be so excellently cemented
together, that it was cheaper to dig fresh ones than to separate them.
This habit of quarrying in castles and abbeys has been fatal to some of
the most interesting ruins in England. Richard III. resided here when
Duke of Gloucester: the character of this prince, like that of our
Pedro, has been vindicated by late historians; and the prevailing
opinion is, that he has been atrociously calumniated to gratify the
Tudors, an able but a wicked race of princes. It is a proof of his
popular qualities at least, that his memory is still in good odour here,
where he could not have been beloved unless he had eminently deserved to
be so, because the country was attached to the hostile party.
We had an intelligent companion on the roof, a native of the country,
who seemed to take a pleasure in communicating information to us
concerning it, perceiving me to be a foreigner, and that I listened to
him with attention. This rendered the next stage, for unfortunately he
proceeded no farther with us, particularly interesting. The road ran
parallel with the sierra of Crossfell, at some little distance from it;
its length and uniformity of outline so diminished its apparent height,
that I listened to him at first with incredulity when he told me it
exceeded any of the mountains in the lake country: yet books confirm his
statement, and appearances must not be weighed against measurement. It
formed a fine screen to the east. Immediately near Penrith we crossed
two rivers which still retained the wild character of mountain streams.
The country is beautiful, and its scenery enriched by the ruins of many
castles, the strong-holds in former times of the Banditti of the Border.
These Borderers carried the art of cow-stealing to its greatest possible
perfection; they are now reduced to a state of subordination and law,
and their district is as orderly as any in the kingdom; yet in those
parts which are remote from the great roads, though their plundering
habits are laid aside, they retain much of their old rude manners and
barbarous spirit. An instance of this we heard from our companion. A
Borderer, who was at mortal enmity with one of his neighbours, fell
sick, and, being given over, sent for his enemy, that they might be
reconciled. "Ah," said he, when the man entered the room, "I am very
bad, very bad indeed;—d'ye think I shall die?" "Why, hope not," replied
his visitor,—"hope not;—to be sure you are very bad, but for all that
perhaps you may do yet." "No, no," said the other, "I shall die, I know
I shall die,—and so I have sent for you that I may not go out of the
world in enmity with any one. So, d'ye see, we'll be friends. The
quarrel between us is all over,—all over,—and so give me your hand."
Accordingly this token of reconciliation was performed, and the other
took his leave; when, just as he was closing the door after him, the
sick man cried out, "But stop," said he,—"if I should not die this time,
this is to go for nothing: Mind now,—it's all to be just as it was
before, if I do not die."
Not far from Penrith is a pillar of stone, well wrought, and formerly
well emblazoned, with dials on each side, and this inscription upon a
brazen plate:
_This pillar was erected anno 1656, by the Right Honourable Anne,
Countess Dowager of Pembroke, and sole heir of the right honourable
George Earl of Cumberland, &c., for a memorial of her last parting in
this place with her good and pious mother, the right honourable Margaret
Countess Dowager of Cumberland, the 2d of April, 1616. In memory whereof
she also left an annuity of four pounds to be distributed to the poor
within the parish of Brougham every_ _2d day of April, for ever, upon
the Stone Table hard by._
The little low stone table stands close at hand, on which the
distribution of this alms is still made. I have seldom been so
interested by any monument or inscription, as by this, which relates
wholly to the private feelings of an individual. She was an admirable
woman, and her name is still held in veneration.
A little distant, though not in sight of the road, is the scene of a
circumstance which I have seen more frequently related than any other
single anecdote in English books: so deep an interest do these people,
one and all, take either in the practice or the tales of hunting. It is
the park,—Whinfield is its name,—where a hart was once started, and
chased by a single buck-hound from thence to Red Kirk in Scotland, which
is sixty English miles off, and back again, thirty leagues in all. The
hart returned to die upon his lair: he leaped the park pales, and
expired immediately; and the hound, not having strength for the leap,
died on the outside. Their heads were nailed against a hawthorn-tree,
with these lines under them:
Hercules killed Hart-o-Greece,
And Hart-o-Greece killed Hercules.
We passed through Kirkby Thur, that is, the Church by Thor, one of the
few etymological vestiges of Saxon idolatry in England. The worship of
this god was common in these parts; the name Thor occurs in a pedigree,
as that of the lord of one of the manors in Cumberland. Through Temple
Sowerby next, where the Knights Templars were once established. It was
not unusual formerly, for men who found it necessary to limit their
expenses as much as possible, to retire into this neighbourhood, where
thirty years ago they could live in a respectable family for so small a
pension as eighteen English pounds;—a sort of banishment, for there was
then little intercourse between the metropolis and these remote parts,
and no stage coach nearer than York. Then we reached Appleby, the county
town of Westmoreland, though apparently a smaller place than Kendal. The
road runs close by it, but does not enter, a river dividing it from the
town. A castle, one of the few which are still habitable, overlooks it
from a wooded eminence; the river and bridge come into the foreground,
and the whole forms a highly beautiful scene. Here we lost our
companion. He told us that Appleby was almost in as high a state of
faction about horse-racing as ever Constantinople had been from the same
cause.
The road, which was now become of a drearier character, continued under
Crossfell till we approached Brough, when it drew nearer to the sierra
just at its termination. Its sides were broken here with rocks, and
loose stones brought from above by the frosts and torrents. Under it
stood some well-built houses, with a few trees about them, not set
thickly enough to look like plantations, but as if of spontaneous
growth. The appearance of these houses, wherein certainly the elegancies
as well as comforts of life would be found, formed an impressive
contrast with the dreariness of the adjoining country, which was as
bleak and ungenial as the worst wastes of Galicia. At Brough the coach
dined, at an hour unreasonably early, and at an inn bad enough and dirty
enough to be in character with a beggarly town.
Our next stage was over the sierra of Stainmoor, a cold and desolate
tract. The few houses upon the way bear testimony to the severity of the
climate; their roofs are raised to as acute an angle as possible, that
the snow may not lie upon them, which covers these heights probably all
the winter through. Since my first day's journey in Cornwall, I have
seen nothing so desolate, and in this latitude the sky is as cheerless
as the earth. Beyond this is the town of Bowes, which is in Yorkshire, a
huge province, as large as any other three in the island. The town, like
all those which we have seen since Carlisle, has its ruined castle,
meant formerly for protection against their marauding neighbours, who
long after the union of the two kingdoms carried on incessant
hostilities against English beef and mutton.
At Bowes begins the great grazing country for children.—It is the
cheapest part of England, and schools for boys have long been
established here, to which tradesmen, and even some parents of higher
order who think money better than learning, send their children from all
the great towns, even from the western provinces,—but London supplies
the greater number. Two of these lads we took up, who were returning to
their parents in the metropolis after a complete Yorkshire education.
One of them, who was just fourteen, had been four years there, during
which time one of his sisters and his father had died, and he had never
seen face of friend or kinsman. I asked him if he thought he should know
his brothers and sisters when he saw them: he said, he supposed not; but
presently, after a pause, added with a smile in the dialect of the
country, "I think I shall ken 'em too." This was an interesting lad with
a quick eye and a dyspeptic countenance. He will be apprenticed behind
some London counter, or at a lawyer's desk, and die for want of fresh
air. His companion was a fine, thriving, thick-headed fellow, with a
bottle belly and a bulbous nose; of that happy and swinish temperament,
that it might be sworn he would feed and fatten wherever he went.
These schools are upon the most œconomical plan: a pension of sixteen
pounds sterling pays for everything, clothing included. For certain they
are kept upon Spartan fare; but the boys, who were from different
schools, spake well of their masters, and had evidently been happy
there. Sheets are considered as superfluous, and clean linen as a luxury
reserved only for Sundays. They wash their own clothes by means of a
machine; and the masters use no other labourers in getting in their
harvests both of hay and corn; so that what with farming, teaching, and
a small cure, for they are generally priests, they make the system
answer. What is taught is merely what is required for the common
purposes of life, to write well, and be ready at the ordinary operations
of arithmetic. They profess to teach Latin, but I could not find that
the masters ever ventured beyond the grammar. At one of these schools
they had been enacting plays, to which the neighbourhood were admitted
at a price. Three pounds a night had been their receipt, and this was
divided among the boys. Our little friend related this with great
satisfaction, told us that he himself had played a part, and was easily
persuaded to give us one of his songs. They had moveable scenes, he
said, as good as we should see in any theatre.—One of these schools
consists of Irish boys, and the master goes over every summer to catch a
drove of them.
A single house at Greta-Bridge was our next stage, pleasantly situated
beside a clear rapid river in a woody country; but after this single
scene of beauty all was flat and dismal. The road, however, had this
recommendation, that for league after league it was as straight as the
most impatient traveller could wish it. At midnight we left the coach at
Borough-Bridge, bidding adieu to the poor boys who had forty hours to
travel on.