_BASSENTHWAITE_
Jacob is wary and needs some management. First we chat about the
exceeding fine autumn passing. "Aye, it's fine, hooivver." Jacob is slow
of idea and of speech: no duty in his varied life ever needs lightning
thought or action; he is decisive enough, but never precipitate. A
typical dalesman--tall and broad-shouldered, stooping somewhat. Until
you have walked a few miles by his side, you think he is a slow plodder,
but experience teaches much. Without the slightest exertion he makes his
four miles in the hour, over smooth road, soft meadow, or rocky hillside
alike. As you see him face an ascent, you marvel how a man so accustomed
to the work should have such an awkward style. But, defiant of all rules
of the climbing and walking cults, he works his way up, down, or across
the slopes with ease. Three hours of his work on the mountain is enough
to tire most casual ramblers who know him. Once I worked a long day
collecting sheep with him, but the sense of exhaustion was too severe to
make me wish to proffer help again.
"If ye'd a summer on t' fell ye'd do varra weel," was his comment as I
wearied through supper afterwards.
[Illustration: DERWENTWATER AND BASSENTHWAITE LAKE, FROM HIGH LODORE]
"Ye want me to tell ye'r frend aboot Bassenthet?" he queries. "Nay, nay,
ther's nowt to tell. In summer it's aw wark on t' land, and in winter
aw's ter'bl' dree. Nay, ther's nowt at aw, man, as I can tell ye on. I'm
net yan as talks mich. I's leev'd aw me life aboot Bassenthet, as did me
father an' gran'-father afoor me. It's nobbut a lile farm, but ther's a
fair bit o' heaf-gang on Skiddaw. It gives us a lock o' wark in summer,
like at clippin' an' weshin'. What's that, lad? Du I ivver gang tu laik?
[My friend has asked if Jacob ever goes to the lake, but has been
misheard.] Well, I's no bairn, I's leev'd in t' reigns o' three kings
an' a queen, but I deu like a bit o' spooart. You should come and hev a
hunt wi' us. We hev grand runs noo an' then. Mr. Crozier's hoonds are
rare uns. They'll chase a fox five er sex times roond Skiddaw rayther 'n
it sud git away. John Crozier's dead noo; he was a grand un for t' daels
[dales]--a good gentleman. Then ther's a few hares [the Cumbrian
pronunciation of this word evades the science of print] in t' boddems.
But they're nobbut babby-wark at best, fit for a day wi' t' sna on t'
tops. We used to hev a bit o' cockfeightin' yance ower, but t' police er
doon on it noo. But, hooivver, we mannish [manage] a main noo an' then
in spite on 'em a', eh?"
"Ever do any fishing, Jacob?" I asked--my friend cannot get the old man
from the fells to the lake.
"Nay, nut mich. T' lads gropple us a fry when t' beck's lah [low], and
on a wet day ther's a few to gitten wi' t' worm. But I nivver caerd
[cared] for booats, and hevn't been across t' lake in yan mair en a
duzzen times i' me life."
"What do you think of the lake in spring?" asks my companion. Jacob is
not deaf, but the tongue of a Southerner is as difficult to him as the
accent of a Frenchman might be. Again he mistakes.
"Ther's a gradely many, ower many springs," he grumbles. "I think ef
they'd nobbut get to wark an' drain it ther'd be some fairish land
underneath it. Mappen we woddent need to send oor sheep away t'
winterin'. It wod mak some bonny nice pastur', eh? Mair like sensible
than throwing [Cumbrian, thrahin'] brass away to mek gomerals o' t'
bairns an' fine gentlemen o' t' skulemaisters."
"It's gay bonny under Skiddaw in lambing-time, isn't it, Jacob?" I
interpose. The ancient is puzzling himself as to what my friend has
meant; he is aware that he has again misunderstood, and is, I am afraid,
becoming irritable.
"I don't see mich to blaw aboot; there's wark enow on t' fell, an'
precious lile leet [light] for owt else. Then yan hardly knas [knows]
when it is spring. Some days it's like midsummer, an' then next day it's
cald enough to flay yan alive. Auld Michael Fletcher, as leev'd up at t'
Yeds, ewst [used] to say, I mind him varra weel, when yan happened to
eks [ask] him aboot t' wedder: 'Nay, bairn, I don't kna. Yance ower we
used to hae it mak' o' decent, rain an' droot just as t' land needed
'em. That was when God A'mighty hed t' job o' mannishin' [managing], but
noo that them dashed Americans hae gitten hod on't yan hardly knas what
mak o' wedder we're gaen to hae t' next.' But t' years er better an'
warse wi' us; this year t' wedder was middlin' nicish, but I mind lots
o' times when it's been aboot as bad as it weel could be. Ther was yan
year i' particular. We hed aboon six hundred yows [ewes] to leuk after,
and when it com a girt sna-storm ther was some dewins. We hed put a vast
on 'em on t' heaf, an' we hed to gang roond wi' hay to 'em, for t' sna
wur varra nar a yerd deep; t' sheep hed gitten into varra nar ivvery
okard spot on t' yall fell. T' sna was that thick as we hed to sled t'
hay, an' t' drifts wer that deep as we couldn't hae t' horses at aw ower
many a yakker [acre]. Ther was yan ginnel where we hed some wark to git
at t' sheep at aw. T' top was blockt wi' a fair wall o' sna, an' t' top
o' that hung ower like t' thack on a stack. You couldn't git doon at aw,
an' baeth sides wer as bad, what wi' girt steep crags an' mair sna. We
tried to git intull 't fra bela', but that was war then baeth o' t'
othern. Yan girt drift piled on t' top on anudder. I began to think it
wur gaen to be a bad job till lile Tommy Moffat, as hed leev'd amang t'
fells, com up.
"'Why Jacob,' he says, 'tou mun git a raep tull 'em.'
"'And what gud will a raep be tull 'em, tou Daft Watty? They're nut
likely to want any skippin'. Mappen a streaw raep wod dew, but it ud tak
a bit ta wind enough for t' lot on 'em'--ther was forty if ther was yan
doon in t' ghyll--'an' then I woddent be reet weel sewer they wod kna as
it was for 'em to it [eat].'
"'Noo, Jacob, it's thee as is Daft Watty. Send for as menny cart raeps
as tou hes, an' I'll show thee hoo to git doon. We hae warse sna drifts
an' rougher ghylls ner these i' Ennerdale.'
"Well, when we gat aw t' raeps he set three on t' farm lads to hod t'
end, efter he hed tied 'em aw togidder, an then he stuck a gavelock in
t' drift as far as it would gang.
"'Noo, Jacob, I's gaen ower t' edge o' t' drift.'
"An sewer enough ower he went, an' I clam along t' crags as far as I
could to watch. I tell ye it wor queer, he wor far enough frae me, to
see him hingin' away by that bit o' threead-like. But efter a bit he gat
on tull a foothod, and began to walk aboot t' ghyll. What he was efter I
didn't see, but in a bit he come up again.
"'It's aw reet, Jacob, aw tou hes ta dew wi' them yows is to thra plenty
o' hay doon t' ghyll tull em. But tou mun thra it fra here'--an' he
marked a spot--'else it ull catch on t' crags, an' the yows 'll nivver
git up tull it.'
"Well, that ud niwer dew, an' for a week we fed them yows ivvery day be
thrahin' t' hay doon t' drift tull em. When things hed thowed a bit nowt
wod suit Tommy but gangen doon wi' his dog. 'I's gaen to drive 'em oot
afoor this drift starts faa'ing to bits. Some on 'em mout git laemt.'
[Illustration: BASSENTHWAITE LAKE
A breezy morn]
"Noo, I didn't caw him Daft Watty, but hooivver cud he git them sheep up
that brant o' sna' whar he couldn't climm hissel? Hooivver ower he went
as I said, an' I went ower t' crags to watch. He hed his dog in his arms
as they lowered him doon, an' he let it off that minute he gat doon to
t' bottom--it was like lukkin intull a well frae whar I was at. Tommy
hed gone reet doon to t' end o' t' hooal, an' began hoonden t' sheep up
intull yan corner. Ther was a bit on a slack theyer, an' what wi' him
shooten an' t' dog hoonden it wasn't lang afoor he hed 'em climmin' up
t' sna like as if they wur sae manny flees. It maed me feel white dizzy
to see t' lile dog drivin' away at 'em; an' as fur Tommy, why he was
climmin' away up t' drift whar it wor like a hoose end, shooten an'
whistlen as if he wur as saef as on t' main rooad. It wasn't many
minutes afoor I sah as t' sheep hed getten up t' warst part o' t' ginnel
side, an' I went roond to meet 'em. They com up like fleein' things, wi'
that yella-an'-tan dog worryin' ahint. An' aboot t' saem time Tommy com
up t' raep, an' shooted 'Noo, Jacob, wha's t' Daft Watty?' It wornt
Tommy at enny raet.
"Tommy went back to Ennerdale t' followen summer, an' I's nivver seen
him sen. Hae you? I mind you said yance that you hed seen him in
Ennerdale last back-end."
Yes, I had seen him, and found him overjoyed to hear of his one-time
chum on Bassenthwaite side. These old-timers of the fell-heads are
essentially men of their own localities. A journey of ten miles would
bring them often into a terra incognita. The two old men mentioned above
had a sincere regard for one another, yet it never occurred to them to
traverse the fifteen miles of mountain which lay between their homes,
nor to expend the three or four shillings which by rail would have
carried them almost to the doorstep of each other. Perhaps such an
incident as the following deters them. One old man of my acquaintance
held a strong regard for another who for half a century he had not
seen--and the while their domiciles were hardly ten miles apart. One day
after much consideration old John decided that the time was ripe for a
visit to old Billy, and off he set by the low moor road, with a pocket
full of provisions to eat on the way. Two hours after he had got away, a
hale old chap entered the hamlet inquiring for him. "Old John?" said I
to the stranger. "Why, he's just gone over the fell to see a friend in
----"
"Was it to see Billy Longmire?"
"Yes."
"Then Jack's just as daft as ivver. Here I've com be railyway to see
him, an' what mun he dew but set off be rooad to see me."
The two veterans did not meet, for Billy would not sacrifice the return
half of his "railyway" ticket, and Jack was so disgusted at the
occurrence that he would not await his friend's return. Though the pair
lived at least ten years longer, they never made another attempt to
meet.
[Illustration: BASSENTHWAITE LAKE AND SKIDDAW]
But it is of Jacob that I should be speaking, and of the day when in
Keswick market-place I tried to lure him on to description.
"I think a man like you will have met a few great men in your time,"
suggested my friend in a halfhearted manner. "I mean did you ever see
Southey, or Wordsworth?"
"No, I can't say I ivver did. I hae often heard of Mr. Southey, but he
was often away in t' Sooth. But ther was yan chap I mind varra weel--t'
Skidda Hermit we used to caw him. Whar he com fra we nivver knew, but
yan summer we began to find ther was some body leeven in t' huts on t'
fell as hed nowt to do wi' shipherds. But for many a day we nivver cam
across him. We fand him at last in a ghyll penten' a picter of a
waterfa'--an' a fine picter it was hooivver. But he woddent speak tull
us. We thowt he was dumb and wanted him to tell our fortens, but he was
as sulky as could be. He went off aw at yance leaven his painten and
things just as they wor, and for a week or two we didn't see him again.
He was a tall chap, nut varra dirty seein' how he leeved on t' fell, and
allus was fairly put on. But though he gat as he wod talk tull sum on
us, he wod nivver say nowt about his name nor whar he com frae--you hed
just to mention that and he was off like a deer and ye didn't see seet
on him agaen for many a day. He didn't stop on Skidda always, but he was
oftenest there--it is aboot t' whietest [quietest] place in England on
t' moor there. Then yan back-end he went off; he gev me a bit of blue
cobble pented wi' a grey sheep just afoor, but I lost it on t' fell--it
was weel done----"
"Coming, Jacob?" through the bleats and barks and whistles and shouts a
voice interrupts; it is one of our friend's neighbours prepared to go
home.
"Aye. Good-day," this last to us, and he steps into the trap.
Such is a Cumbrian's description of Bassenthwaite. We went to hear about
the lake, but alas! Jacob hardly had a word to say about it. Next time I
will ask him about shepherd-life on Skiddaw and he will probably reel
off stories innumerable of the water in summer and winter, and of the
men who give to the lake the attention due. Jacob is typical of his
class, and his reticence was not due to any wish to keep information
from us.