Of two roads from Kendal to Bampton one is through Long Sleddale,
the other over Shap-fell, the king of the Westmoreland mountains; of
which routes the last is the most interesting for simple sublimity,
leading through the heart of the wildest tracts and opening to such
vast highland scenery as even Derbyshire cannot shew. We left Kendal by
this road, and from a very old, ruinous bridge had a full view of the
castle, stretching its dark walls and broken towers round the head of a
green hill, to the southward of the town. These reliques are, however,
too far separated by the decay of large masses of the original edifice,
and contain little that is individually picturesque.
The road now lay through shady lanes and over undulating, but gradually
ascending ground, from whence were pleasant views of the valley, with
now and then a break in the hills, on the left, opening to a glimpse
of the distant fells towards Windermere, gray and of more pointed form
than any we had yet seen; for hitherto the mountains, though of huge
outline, were not so broken, or alpine in their summits as to strike
the fancy with surprise. After about three miles, a very steep hill
shuts up the vale to the North, and from a gray rock, near the summit,
called Stone-cragg, the prospect opens over the vale of Kendal with
great dignity and beauty. Its form from hence seems nearly circular;
the hills spread round it, and sweep with easy lines into the bottom,
green nearly to their summits, where no fantastic points bend over it,
though rock frequently mingles with the heath. The castle, or its
low green hill, looked well, nearly in the centre of the landscape,
with Kendal and its mountain, on the right. Far to the south, were
the groves of Leven's park, almost the only wood in the scene, and,
over the heights beyond, blue hills bounded the horizon. On the west,
an opening in the near steeps discovered clusters of huge and broken
fells, while other breaks, on the east, shewed long ridges stretching
towards the south. Nearer us and to the northward, the hills rose dark
and awful, crowding over and intersecting each other in long and abrupt
lines, heath and crag their only furniture.
The rough knolls around us and the dark mountain above gave force to
the verdant beauty and tranquillity of the vale below, and seemed
especially to shelter from the storms of the north some white farms
and cottages, scattered among enclosures in the hollows. Soon after
reaching the summit of the mountain itself
"A vale appear'd below, a deep retir'd abode,"
and we looked down on the left into Long Sleddale, a little scene of
exquisite beauty, surrounded with images of greatness. This narrow
vale, or glen, shewed a level of the brightest verdure, with a few
cottages scattered among groves, enclosed by dark fells, that rose
steeply, yet gracefully, and, at their summits, bent forward in masses
of shattered rock. An hugely pointed mountain, called Keintmoor-head,
shuts up this sweet scene to the north, rising in a sudden precipice
from the vale, and heightening, by barren and gloomy steeps, the
miniature beauty, that glowed at its feet. Two mountains, called
Whiteside and Potter's-fell, screen the perspective; Stone-crag is at
the southern end, fronting Keintmoor-head. The vale, seen beyond the
broken ground we were upon, formed a landscape of, perhaps, unexampled
variety and grace of colouring; the tender green of the lowland, the
darker verdure of the woods ascending the mountains, the brown rough
heath above them, and the impending crags over all, exhibit their
numerous shades, within a space not more than two miles long, or half a
mile in breadth.
From the right of our road another valley extended, whose character is
that of simple sublimity, unmixed with any tint of beauty. The vast,
yet narrow perspective sweeps in ridges of mountains, huge, barren
and brown, point beyond point, the highest of which, Howgill-fell,
gives its name to the whole district, in which not a wood, a village,
or a farm appeared to cheer the long vista. A shepherd boy told us
the names of almost all the heights within the horizon, and we are
sorry not to have written them, for the names of mountains are seldom
compounded of modern, or trivial denominations, and frequently are
somewhat descriptive of their prototypes. He informed us also, that
we should go over eight miles of Shap-fell, without seeing a house;
and soon after, at Haw's-foot, we took leave of the last on the road,
entering then a close valley, surrounded by stupendous mountains of
heath and rock, more towering and abrupt than those, that had appeared
in moorlands on the other side of Kendal. A stream, rolling in its
rocky channel, and crossing the road under a rude bridge, was all that
broke the solitary silence, or gave animation to the view, except the
flocks, that hung upon the precipices, and which, at that height,
were scarcely distinguishable from the gray round stones, thickly
starting from out the heathy steeps. The Highlands of Scotland could
scarcely have offered to OSSIAN more images of simple greatness, or
more circumstances for melancholy inspiration. Dark glens and fells,
the mossy stone, the lonely blast, descending on the valley, the roar
of distant torrents every where occurred; and to the bard the "song of
spirits" would have swelled with these sounds, and their fleeting forms
have appeared in the clouds, that frequently floated along the mountain
tops.
The road, now ascending Shap-fell, alternately climbed the steeps and
sunk among the hollows of this sovereign mountain, which gives its name
to all the surrounding hills; and, during an ascent of four miles, we
watched every form and attitude of the features, which composed this
vast scenery. Sometimes we looked from a precipice into deep vallies,
varied only with shades of heath, with the rude summer hut of the
shepherd, or by streams accumulating into torrents; and, at others,
caught long prospects over high lands as huge and wild as the nearer
ones, which partially intercepted them.
The flocks in this high region are so seldom disturbed by the footsteps
of man, that they have not learned to fear him; they continued to graze
within a few feet of the carriage, or looked quietly at it, seeming to
consider these mountains as their own.
Near the summit of the road, though not of the hill, a retrospective
glance gave us a long view over the fells, and of a rich distance
towards Lancaster, rising into blue hills, which admitted glimpses
of sparkling sea in the bay beyond. This gay perspective, lighted up
by a gleam of sunshine, and viewed between the brown lines of the
nearer mountains, shewed like the miniature painting of a landscape,
illuminated beyond a darkened fore-ground.
At the point of every steep, as we ascended, the air seemed to become
thinner, and, at the northern summit of Shap-fell, which we reached
after nearly two hours' toil, the wind blew with piercing intenseness,
making it difficult to remain as long as was due to our admiration
of the prospect. The scene of mountains, which burst upon us, can be
compared only to the multitudinous waves of the sea. On the northern,
western and eastern scope of the horizon rose vast ridges of heights,
their broken lines sometimes appearing in seven or eight successive
ranges, though shewing nothing either fantastic or peaked in their
forms. The autumnal lights, gleaming on their sides, or shadows
sweeping in dark lines along them, produced a very sublime effect;
while summits more remote were often misty with the streaming shower,
and others glittered in the partial rays, or were coloured with the
mild azure of distance. The greater tract of the intervening hills and
Shap-fell itself were, at this time, darkened with clouds, while Fancy,
awed by the gloom, imaged the genius of Westmoreland brooding over it
and directing the scowling storm.
A descent of nearly four miles brought us to Shap, a straggling
village, lying on the side of a bleak hill, feebly sheltered by
clumps of trees. Here, leaving the moorlands, we were glad to find
ourselves again where "bells have knolled to church," and in the midst
of civilized, though simple life. After a short rest, at a cleanly
little inn, we proceeded towards Bampton, a village five miles further
in a vale, to which it gives its name, and one mile from Hawswater,
the lake, that invited us to it. As the road advanced, the fells of
this lake fronted it, and, closing over the southern end of Bampton
vale, were the most interesting objects in the view. They were of a
character very different from any yet seen; tall, rocky, and of more
broken and pointed form. Among them was the high blue peak, called
Kidstow-pike; the broader ridge of Wallow-crag; a round and still
loftier mountain--Ickolm-moor, beyond, and, further yet, other ranges
of peaked summits, that overlook Ullswater.
In a hollow on the left of the road, called the Vale of Magdalene, are
the ruins of Shap-abbey, built in the reign of John, of which little
now appears except a tower with pointed windows. The situation is
deeply secluded, and the gloom of the surrounding mountains may have
accorded well with monastic melancholy.
Proceeding towards Bampton we had a momentary peep into Hawswater,
sunk deep among black and haggard rocks, and overtopped by the towering
fells before named, whose summits were involved in tempest, till the
sun, suddenly breaking out from under clouds, threw a watery gleam
aslant the broken top of Kidstow-pike; and his rays, struggling with
the shower, produced a fine effect of light, opposed to the gloom, that
wrapt Ickolm-moor and other huge mountains.
We soon after looked down from the heights of Bampton upon its open
vale, checquered with corn and meadows, among which the slender Lowther
wound its way from Hawswater to the vale of Eden, crossing that of
Bampton to the north. The hills, enriched here and there with hanging
woods and seats, were cultivated nearly to their summits, except where
in the south the rude heights of Hawswater almost excluded the lake
and shut up the valley. Immediately below us Bampton grange lay along
the skirt of the hill, and crossed the Lowther, a gray, rambling and
antient village, to which we descended among rough common, darkened by
plantations of fir, and between corn enclosures.
The interruption, which enclosed waters and pathless mountains give to
the intercourse and business of ordinary life, renders the district,
that contains the lakes of Lancashire, Westmoreland and Cumberland,
more thinly inhabited than is due to the healthiness of the climate
and, perhaps, to the richness of the vallies. The roads are always
difficult from their steepness, and in winter are greatly obstructed
by snow. That over Shap-fell to Kendal was, some years since, entirely
impassable, till the inhabitants of a few scattered towns subscribed
thirty pounds, and a way was cut wide enough for one horse, but so
deep, that the snow was, on each side, above the rider's head. It is
not in this age of communication and intelligence, that any person will
be credulously eager to suppose the inhabitants of one part of the
island considerably or generally distinguished in their characters from
those of another; yet, perhaps, none can immerge themselves in this
country of the lakes, without being struck by the superior simplicity
and modesty of the people. Secluded from great towns and from examples
of selfish splendour, their minds seem to act freely in the sphere of
their own affairs, without interruption from envy or triumph, as to
those of others. They are obliging, without servility, and plain but
not rude, so that, when, in accosting you, they omit the customary
appellations, you perceive it to be the familiarity of kindness, not of
disrespect; and they do not bend with meanness, or hypocrisy, but shew
an independent well meaning, without obtrusiveness and without the hope
of more than ordinary gain.
Their views of profit from strangers are, indeed, more limited than we
could have believed, before witnessing it. The servants at the little
inns confess themselves, by their manner of receiving what you give, to
be almost as much surprised as pleased. A boy, who had opened four or
five gates for us between Shap and Bampton, blushed when we called to
him to have some halfpence; and it frequently happened, that persons,
who had looked at the harness, or rendered some little services of
that sort on the road, passed on, before any thing could be offered
them. The confusion of others, on being paid, induced us to suppose, at
first, that enough had not been given; but we were soon informed, that
nothing was expected.
The inns, as here at Bampton, are frequently humble; and those, who are
disposed to clamour for luxuries, as if there was a crime in not being
able to supply them, may confound a simple people, and be themselves
greatly discontented, before they go. But those, who will be satisfied
with comforts, and think the experience of integrity, carefulness and
goodwill is itself a luxury, will be glad to have stopped at Bampton
and at several other little villages, where there is some sort of
preparation for travellers.
Nor is this secluded spot without provision for the mind. A beneficed
grammar school receives the children of the inhabitants, and sends, we
believe, some to an University. Bishop GIBSON received his education
at it. Bishop LAW, who was born at Bampton, went daily across one, or
two of the rudest fells on the lake to another school, at Martindale;
an exercise of no trifling fatigue, or resolution; for among the
things to be gained by seeing the lakes is a conception of the extreme
wildness of their boundaries. You arrive with a notion, that you can
and dare rove any where amongst the mountains; and have only to see
three to have the utmost terror of losing your way.
The danger of wandering in theses regions without a guide is increased
by an uncertainty, as to the titles of heights; for the people of each
village have a name for the part of a mountain nearest to themselves,
and they sometimes call the whole by that name. The circumference of
such heights is also too vast, and the flexures too numerous to admit
of great accuracy. Skiddaw, Saddleback and Helvellyn, may, however
be certainly distinguished. There are others, a passage over which
would save, perhaps, eight or ten miles out of twenty, but which are
so little known, except to the shepherds, that they are very rarely
crossed by travellers. We could not trust to any person's knowledge of
Harter-fell, beyond the head of Hawswater.