This is a lake, of which little has been mentioned, perhaps because it
is inferior in size to the others, but which is distinguished by the
solemn grandeur of its rocks and mountains, that rise in very bold and
awful characters. The water, about three miles long, and at the widest
only half a mile over, nearly describes the figure 8, being narrowed in
the centre by the projecting shores; and, at this spot, it is said to
be fifty fathom deep.
Crossing the meadows of Bampton vale and ascending the opposite
heights, we approached the fells of Hawswater, and, having proceeded
for a mile along the side of hills, the views over the vale and of the
southern mountains changing with almost every step, the lake began to
open between a very lofty ridge, covered with forest, and abrupt fells
of heath, or naked rock. Soon after, we looked upon the first expanse
of the lake. Its eastern shore, rising in a tremendous ridge of rocks,
darkened with wood to the summit, appears to terminate in Wallow-crag,
a promontory of towering height, beyond which the lake winds from view.
The finely broken mountains on the west are covered with heath, and the
tops impend in crags and precipices; but their ascent from the water
is less sudden than that of the opposite rocks, and they are skirted
by a narrow margin of vivid green, where cattle were feeding, and
tufted shrubs and little groves overhung the lake and were reflected
on its dark surface. Above, a very few white cottages among wood broke
in upon the solitude; higher still, the mountain-flocks were browsing,
and above all, the narrow perspective was closed by dark and monstrous
summits.
As we wound along the bank, the rocks unfolded and disclosed the second
expanse, with scenery yet more towering and sublime than the first.
This perspective seemed to be terminated by the huge mountain called
Castle-street; but, as we advanced, Harter-fell reared his awful
front, impending over the water, and shut in the scene, where, amidst
rocks, and at the entrance of a glen almost choked by fragments from
the heights, stands the chapel of Martindale, spoken by the country
people Mardale. Among the fells of this dark prospect are Lathale,
Wilter-crag, Castle-crag and Riggindale, their bold lines appearing
beyond each other as they fell into the upper part of the lake, and
some of them shewing only masses of shattered rock. Kidstow-pike is
pre-eminent among the crowding summits beyond the eastern shore, and
the clouds frequently spread their gloom over its point, or fall in
showers into the cup within; on the west High-street, which overlooks
the head of Ullswater, is the most dignified of the mountains.
Leaving the green margin of the lake, we ascended to the Parsonage, a
low, white building on a knoll, sheltered by the mountain and a grove
of sycamores, with a small garden in front, falling towards the water.
From the door we had a view of the whole lake and the surrounding
fells, which the eminence we were upon was just raised enough to shew
to advantage. Nearly opposite to it the bold promontory of Wallow-crag
pushed its base into the lake, where a peninsula advanced to meet it,
spread with bright verdure, on which the hamlet of Martindale lay
half concealed among a grove of oak, beech and sycamore, whose tints
contrasted with the darker one of the spiry spruce, or more clumped
English fir, and accorded sweetly with the pastoral green beneath. The
ridge of precipices, that swept from Wallow-crag southward, and formed
a bay for the upper part of the lake, was despoiled of its forest; but
that, which curved northward, was dark with dwarf-wood to the water's
brim, and, opening distantly to Bampton vale, let in a gay miniature
landscape, bright in sunshine. Below, the lake reflected the gloom of
the woods, and was sometimes marked with long white lines, which, we
were told, indicated bad weather; but, except when a sudden gust swept
the surface, it gave back every image on the shore, as in a dark mirror.
The interior of the Parsonage was as comfortable as the situation
was interesting. A neat parlour opened from the passage, but it was
newly painted, and we were shewn into the family room, having a large
old-fashioned chimney corner, with benches to receive a social party,
and forming a most enviable retreat from the storms of the mountains.
Here, in the winter evening, a family circle, gathering round a blazing
pile of wood on the hearth, might defy the weather and the world. It
was delightful to picture such a party, happy in their home, in the
sweet affections of kindred and in honest independence, conversing,
working and reading occasionally, while the blast was struggling
against the casement and the snow pelting on the roof.
The seat of a long window, overlooking the lake, offered the delights
of other seasons; hence the luxuriance of summer and the colouring
of autumn successively spread their enchantments over the opposite
woods, and the meadows that margined the water below; and a little
garden of sweets sent up its fragrance to that of the honeysuckles,
that twined round the window. Here, too, lay a store of books, and,
to instance that an inhabitant of this remote nook could not exclude
an interest concerning the distant world among them was a history of
passing events. Alas! to what scenes, to what display of human passions
and human suffering did it open! How opposite to the simplicity, the
innocence and the peace of these!
The venerable father of the mansion was engaged in his duty at his
chapel of Martindale, but we were hospitably received within, and heard
the next day how gladly he would have rendered any civilities to
strangers.
On leaving this enviable little residence, we pursued the steeps of
the mountain behind it, and were soon amidst the flocks and the crags,
whence the look-down, upon the lake and among the fells was solemn and
surprising. About a quarter of a mile from the Parsonage, a torrent of
some dignity rushed past us, foaming down a rocky chasm in its way to
the lake. Every where, little streams of crystal clearness wandered
silently among the moss and turf, which half concealed their progress,
or dashed over the rocks; and, across the largest, sheep-bridges of
flat stone were thrown, to prevent the flocks from being carried away
in attempting to pass them in winter. The gray stones, that grew among
the heath, were spotted with mosses of so fine a texture, that it was
difficult to ascertain whether they were vegetable; their tints were
a delicate pea-green and primrose, with a variety of colours, which it
was not necessary to be a botanist to admire.
An hour, passed in ascending, brought us to the brow of Bampton vale,
which sloped gently downward to the north, where it opened to lines
of distant mountains, that extended far into the east. The woods of
Lowther-park capped two remote hills, and spread luxuriantly down their
sides into the valley; and nearer, Bampton-grange lay at the base of a
mountain, crowned with fir plantations, over which, in a distant vale,
we discovered the village of Shap and long ridges of the highland,
passed on the preceding day.
One of the fells we had just crossed is called Blanarasa, at the
summit of which two gray stones, each about four feet high, and placed
upright, at the distance of nine feet from each other, remain of four,
which are remembered to have been formerly there. The place is still
called Four Stones; but tradition does not relate the design of the
monument; whether to limit adjoining districts, or to commemorate a
battle, or a hero.
We descended gradually into the vale, among thickets of rough oaks, on
the bank of a rivulet, which foamed in a deep channel beneath their
foliage, and came to a glade so sequestered and gloomily overshadowed,
that one almost expected see the venerable arch of a ruin, peeping
between the branches. It was the very spot, which the founder of a
monastery might have chosen for his retirement, where the chantings
of a choir might have mingled with the soothing murmur of the stream,
and monks have glided beneath the solemn trees in garments scarcely
distinguishable from the shades themselves.
This glade, sloping from the eye, opened under spreadings oaks to a
remote glimpse of the vale, with blue hills in the distance; and on the
grassy hillocks of the fore-ground cattle were every where reposing.
We returned, about sun-set, to Bampton, after a walk of little more
than four miles, which had exhibited a great variety of scenery,
beautiful, romantic and sublime. At the entrance of the village, the
Lowther and a nameless rivulet, that runs from Hawswater, join their
waters; both streams were now sunk in their beds; but in winter they
sometimes contend for the conquest and ravage of the neighbouring
plains. The waters have then risen to the height of five or six feet
in a meadow forty yards from their summer channels. In an enclosure
of this vale was fought the last battle, or skirmish, with the
Scots in Westmoreland; and it is within the telling of the sons of
great-grandfathers, that the contest continued, till the Scots were
discovered to fire only pebbles; the villagers had then the folly to
close with them and the success to drive them away; but such was the
simplicity of the times, that it was called a victory to have made one
prisoner. Stories of this sort are not yet entirely forgotten in the
deeply inclosed vales of Westmoreland and Cumberland, where the greater
part of the present inhabitants can refer to an ancestry of several
centuries, on the same spot.
We thought Bampton, though a very ill-built village, an enviable spot;
having a clergyman, as we heard, of exemplary manners, and, as one
of us witnessed, of a most faithful earnestness in addressing his
congregation in the church; being but slightly removed from one of the
lakes, that accumulates in a small space many of the varieties and
attractions of the others; and having the adjoining lands distributed,
for the most part, into small farms, so that, as it is not thought
low to be without wealth, the poor do not acquire the offensive and
disreputable habits, by which they are too often tempted to revenge, or
resist the ostentation of the rich.