ULLSWATER.

The ride from Bampton to Ullswater is very various and delightful. It

winds for about three miles along the western heights of this green and

open vale, among embowered lanes, that alternately admit and exclude

the pastoral scenes below, and the fine landscapes on the opposite

hills, formed by the plantations and antient woods of Lowther-park.

These spread over a long tract, and mingle in sweet variety with the

lively verdure of lawns and meadows, that slope into the valley, and

sometimes appear in gleams among the dark thickets. The house, of white

stone with red window-cases, embosomed among the woods, has nothing in

its appearance answerable to the surrounding grounds. Its situation

and that of the park are exquisitely happy, just where the vale of

Bampton opens to that of Eden, and the long mountainous ridge and peak

of Cross-fell, aspiring above them all, stretch before the eye; with

the town of Penrith shelving along the side of a distant mountain, and

its beacon on the summit; the ruins of its castle appearing distinctly

at the same time, crowning a low round hill. The horizon to the north

and the east is bounded by lines of mountains, range above range,

not romantic and surprising, but multitudinous and vast. Of these,

Cross-fell, said to be the highest mountain in Cumberland, gives its

name to the whole northern ridge, which in its full extent, from the

neighbourhood of Gillsland to that of Kirkby-Steven, is near fifty

miles. This perspective of the extensive vale of Eden has grandeur

and magnificence in as high a degree as that of Bampton has pastoral

beauty, closing in the gloomy solitudes of Hawswater. The vale is

finely wooded, and variegated with mansions, parks, meadow-land, corn,

towns, villages, and all that make a distant landscape rich. Among the

peculiarities of it, are little mountains of alpine shape, that start

up like pyramids in the middle of the vale, some covered with wood,

others barren and rocky. The scene perhaps only wants a river like the

Rhine, or the Thames, to make it the very finest in England for union

of grandeur, beauty and extent.

Opposite Lowther-hall, we gave a farewell look to the pleasant vale of

Bampton and its southern fells, as the road, winding more to the west,

led us over the high lands, that separate it from the vale of Emont.

Then, ascending through shady lanes and among fields where the oat

harvest was gathering, we had enchanting retrospects of the vale of

Eden, spreading to the east, with all its chain of mountains chequered

by the autumnal shadows.

Soon after, the road brought us to the brows of Emont, a narrow

well-wooded vale, the river, from which it takes its name, meandering

through it from Ullswater among pastures and pleasure-grounds, to meet

the Lowther near Brougham Castle. Penrith and its castle and beacon

look up the vale from the north, and the astonishing fells of Ullswater

close upon it in the south; while Delemain, the house, and beautiful

grounds of Mr. Hassel, Hutton St. John, a venerable old mansion, and

the single tower called Dacre-castle adorn the valley. But who can

pause to admire the elegancies of art, when surrounded by the wonders

of nature? The approach to this sublime lake along the heights of Emont

is exquisitely interesting; for the road, being shrouded by woods,

allows the eye only partial glimpses of the gigantic shapes, that are

assembled in the distance, and, awakening high expectation, leaves the

imagination, thus elevated, to paint the "forms of things unseen." Thus

it was, when we caught a first view of the dark broken tops of the

fells, that rise round Ullswater, of size and shape most huge, bold,

and awful; overspread with a blue mysterious tint, that seemed almost

supernatural, though according in gloom and sublimity with the severe

features it involved.

Further on, the mountains began to unfold themselves; their outlines,

broken, abrupt and intersecting each other in innumerable directions,

seemed, now and then, to fall back like a multitude at some supreme

command, and permitted an oblique glimpse into the deep vales. A close

lane then descended towards Pooly-bridge, where, at length, the lake

itself appeared beyond the spreading branches, and, soon after, the

first reach expanded before us, with all its mountains tumbled round

it; rocky, ruinous and vast, impending, yet rising in wild confusion

and multiplied points behind each other.

This view of the first reach from the foot of Dunmallet, a pointed

woody hill, near Pooly-bridge, is one of the finest on the Jake, which

here spreads in a noble sheet, near three miles long, and almost two

miles broad, to the base of Thwaithill-nab, winding round which it

disappears, and the whole is then believed to be seen. The character

of this view is nearly that of simple grandeur; the mountains, that

impend over the shore in front, are peculiarly awful in their forms

and attitudes; on the left, the fells soften; woodlands, and their

pastures, colour their lower declivities, and the water is margined

with the tenderest verdure, opposed to the dark woods and crags above.

On the right, a green conical hill slopes to the shore, where cattle

were reposing on the grass, or sipping the clear wave; further, rise

the bolder rocks of Thwaithill-nab, where the lake disappears, and,

beyond, the dark precipices and summits of fells, that crown the second

reach.

Winding the foot of Dunmallet, the almost pyramidal hill, that shuts

up this end of Ullswater, and separates it from the vale of Emont, we

crossed Barton bridge, where this little river, clear as crystal,

issues from the lake, and through a close pass hurries over a rocky

channel to the vale. Its woody steeps, the tufted island, that

interrupts its stream, and the valley beyond, form altogether a picture

in fine contrast with the majesty of Ullswater, expanding on the other

side of the bridge.

We followed the skirts of a smooth green hill, the lake, on the other

hand, flowing softly against the road and shewing every pebble on the

beach beneath, and proceeded towards the second bend; but soon mounted

from the shore among the broken knolls of Dacre-common, whence we had

various views of the first reach, its scenery appearing in darkened

majesty as the autumnal shadows swept over it. Sometimes, however, the

rays, falling in gleams upon the water, gave it the finest silvery tone

imaginable, sober though splendid. Dunmallet at the foot of the lake

was a formal unpleasing object, not large enough to be grand, or wild

enough to be romantic.

The ground of the common is finely broken, and is scattered sparingly

with white cottages, each picturesquely shadowed by its dark grove;

above, rise plantations and gray crags which lead the eye forward to

the alpine forms, that crown the second reach, changing their attitudes

every instant as they are approached.

Ullswater in all its windings, which give it the form of the letter S,

is nearly nine miles long; the width is various, sometimes nearly two

miles and seldom less than one; but Skelling-nab, a vast rock in the

second reach, projects so as to reduce it to less than a quarter of a

mile. These are chiefly the reputed measurements, but the eye loses

its power of judging even of the breadth, confounded by the boldness

of the shores and the grandeur of the fells, that rise beyond; the

proportions however are grand, for the water retains its dignity,

notwithstanding the vastness of its accompaniments; a circumstance,

which Derwentwater can scarcely boast.

The second bend, assuming the form of a river, is very long, but

generally broad, and brought strongly to remembrance some of the

passes of the Rhine beyond Coblentz: though, here, the rocks, that

rise over the water, are little wooded; and, there, their skirts

are never margined by pasture, or open to such fairy summer scenes

of vivid green mingling with shades of wood and gleams of corn, as

sometimes appear within the recesses of these wintry mountains. These

cliffs, however, do not shew the variety of hue, or marbled veins, that

frequently surprise and delight on the Rhine, being generally dark

and gray, and the varieties in their complexion, when there are any,

purely aërial; but they are vast and broken; rise immediately from

the stream, and often shoot their masses over it; while the expanse

of water below accords with the dignity of that river in many of its

reaches. Once too, there were other points of resemblance, in the ruins

of monasteries and convents, which, though reason rejoices that they no

longer exist, the eye may be allowed to regret. Of these, all which now

remains on record is, that a society of Benedictine monks was founded

on the summit of Dunmallet, and a nunnery of the same order on a point

behind Sowlby-fell; traces of these ruins, it is said, may still be

seen.

Thus grandeur and immensity are the characteristics of the left shore

of the second reach; the right exhibits romantic wildness in the rough

ground of Dacre-common and the craggy heights above, and, further

on, the sweetest forms of reposing beauty, in the grassy hillocks and

undulating copses of Gowbarrow-park, fringing the water, sometimes over

little rocky eminences, that project into the stream, and, at others,

in shelving bays, where the lake, transparent as crystal, breaks upon

the pebbly bank, and laves the road, that winds there. Above these

pastoral and sylvan landscapes, rise broken precipices, less tremendous

than those of the opposite shore, with pastures pursuing the crags to

a considerable height, speckled with cattle, which are exquisitely

picturesque, as they graze upon the knolls and among the old trees,

that adorn this finely declining park.

Leaving the hamlet of Watermillock at some distance on the left, and

passing the seat of Mr. Robinson, sequestered in the gloom of beech and

sycamores, there are fine views over the second reach, as the road

descends the common towards Gowbarrow. Among the boldest fells, that

breast the lake on the left shore, are Holling-fell and Swarth-fell,

now no longer boasting any part of the forest of Martindale, but

shewing huge walls of naked rock, and scars, which many torrents have

inflicted. One channel only in this dry season retained its shining

stream; the chasm was dreadful, parting the mountain from the summit

to the base; and its waters in winter, leaping in foam from precipice

to precipice, must be infinitely sublime; not, however, even then from

their mass, but from the length and precipitancy of their descent.

The perspective as the road descends into Gowbarrow-park is perhaps

the very finest on the lake. The scenery of the first reach is almost

tame when compared with this, and it is difficult to say where it

can be equalled for Alpine sublimity, and so effecting wonder and

awful elevation. The lake, after expanding at a distance to great

breadth, once more loses itself beyond the enormous pile of rock

called Place-fell, opposite to which the shore, seeming to close upon

all further progress, is bounded by two promontories covered with

woods, that shoot their luxuriant foliage to the water's edge. The

shattered mass of gray rock, called Yew-crag, rises immediately over

these, and, beyond, a glen opens to a chaos of mountains more solemn

in their aspect, and singular in their shapes, than any which have

appeared, point crowding over point in lofty succession. Among these

is Stone-cross-pike and huge Helvellyn, scowling over all; but, though

this retains its pre-eminence, its dignity is lost in the mass of alps

around and below it. A fearful gloom involved them; the shadows of

a stormy sky upon mountains of dark rock and heath. All this is seen

over the woody fore-ground of the park, which, soon shrouding us in its

bowery lanes, allowed the eye and the fancy to repose, while venturing

towards new forms and assemblages of sublimity.

Meantime, the green shade, under which we passed, where the sultry low

of cattle, and the sound of streams hurrying from the heights through

the copses of Gowbarrow to the lake below, were all that broke the

stillness; these, with gleamings of the water, close on the left,

between the foliage, and which was ever changing its hue, sometimes

assuming the soft purple of a pigeon's neck, at others the silvery

tint of sunshine--these circumstances of imagery were in soothing and

beautiful variety with the gigantic visions we had lost.

The road still pursuing this border of the lake, the copses opened to

partial views of the bold rocks, that form the opposite shore, and many

a wild recess and solemn glen appeared and vanished among them, some

shewing only broken fells, the sides of others shaggy with forests,

and nearly all lined, at their bases, with narrow pastures of the

most exquisite verdure. Thus descending upon a succession of sweeping

bays, where the shades parted, and admitted the lake, that flowed even

with us, and again retreating from it over gentle eminences, where it

glittered only between the leaves; crossing the rude bridges of several

becks, rapid, clear and foaming among dark stones, and receiving a

green tint from the closely shadowing trees, but neither precipitous

enough in their descent, nor ample enough in their course, to increase

the dignity of the scene, we came, after passing nearly three miles

through the park, to Lyulph's Tower. This mansion, a square, gray

edifice, with turreted corners, battlements and windows in the Gothic

style, has been built by the present Duke of Norfolk in one of the

finest situations of a park, abounding with views of the grand and

the sublime. It stands on a green eminence, a little removed from the

water, backed with wood and with pastures rising abruptly beyond, to

the cliffs and crags that crown them. In front, the ground falls finely

to the lake's edge, broken, yet gentle, and scattered over with old

trees, and darkened with copses, which mingle in fine variety of tints

with the light verdure of the turf beneath. Herds of deer, wandering

over the knolls, and cattle, reposing in the shade, completed this

sweet landscape.

The lake is hence seen to make one of its boldest expanses, as it

sweeps round Place-fell, and flows into the third and last bend of

this wonderful vale. Lyulph's Tower looks up this reach to the south,

and to the east traces all the fells and curving banks of Gowbarrow,

that bind the second; while, to the west, a dark glen opens to a

glimpse of the solemn alps round Helvellyn; and all these objects are

seen over the mild beauty of the park.

Passing fine sweeps of the shore and over bold headlands, we came

opposite to the vast promontory, called Place-fell, that pushes its

craggy foot into the lake, like a lion's claw, round which the waters

make a sudden turn, and enter Patterdale, their third and final

expanse. In this reach, they lose the form of a river, and resume

that of a lake, being closed, at three miles distance, by the ruinous

rocks, that guard the gorge of Patterdale, backed by a multitude of

fells. The water, in this scope, is of oval form, bounded on one side

by the precipices of Place-fell, Martindale-fell, and several others,

equally rude and awful that rise from its edge, and shew no lines of

verdure, or masses of; wood, but retire in rocky bays, or projects

in vast promontories athwart it. The opposite shore is less severe

and more romantic; the rocks are lower and richly wooded, and, often

receding from the water, leave room for a tract of pasture, meadow land

and corn, to margin their ruggedness. At the upper end, the village

of Patterdale and one of two white farms, peep out from among trees

beneath the scowling mountains, that close the scene; pitched in a

rocky nook, with corn and meadow land, sloping gently in front to the

lake, and, here and there, a scattered grove. But this scene is viewed

to more advantage from one of the two woody eminences, that overhang

the lake, just at the point where it forms its last angle, and, like

an opened compass, spreads its two arms before the eye. These heights

are extremely beautiful, viewed from the opposite shore, and had

long charmed us at a distance. Approaching them, we crossed another

torrent, Glencoyn-beck, or Airey-force, which here divides not only the

estates of the Duke of Norfolk and Mr. Hodgkinson, but the counties of

Westmoreland and Cumberland; and all the fells beyond, that enclose

the last bend of Ullswater, are in Patterdale. Here, on the right, at

the feet of awful rocks, was spread a gay autumnal scene, in which the

peasants were singing merrily as they gathered the oats into sheafs;

woods, turfy hillocks, and, above all, tremendous crags, abruptly

closing round the yellow harvest. The figures, together with the whole

landscape, resembled one of those beautifully fantastic scenes, which

fable calls up before the wand of the magician.

Entering Glencoyn woods and sweeping the boldest bay of the lake, while

the water dashed with a strong surge upon the shore, we at length

mounted a road frightful from its steepness and its crags, and gained

one of the wooded summits so long admired. From hence the view of

Ullswater is the most extensive and various, that its shores exhibit,

comprehending its two principal reaches, and though not the most

picturesque, it is certainly the most grand. To the east, extends the

middle sweep in long and equal perspective, walled with barren fells

on the right, and margined on the left with the pastoral recesses and

bowery projections of Gowbarrow park. The rude mountains above almost

seemed to have fallen back from the shore to admit this landscape

within their hollow bosom, and then, bending abruptly, appear, like

Milton's Adam viewing the sleeping Eve, to hang over it enamoured.

Lyulph's Tower is the only object of art, except the hamlet of

Watermillock, seen in the distant perspective, that appears in the

second bend of Ullswater; and this loses much of its effect from the

square uniformity of the structure, and the glaring green of its

painted window-cases. This is the longest reach of the lake.

Place-fell, which divides the two last bends, and was immediately

opposite to the point we were on, is of the boldest form. It projects

into the water, an enormous mass of gray crag, scarred with dark hues;

thence retiring a little it again bends forward in huge cliffs, and

finally starts up into a vast perpendicular face of rock. As a single

object, it is wonderfully grand; and, connected with the scene, its

effect is sublime. The lower rocks are called Silver-rays, and not

inaptly; for, when the sun shines upon them, their variegated sides

somewhat resemble in brightness the rays streaming beneath a cloud.

The last reach of Ullswater, which is on the right of this point,

expands into an oval, and its majestic surface is spotted with little

rocky islets, that would adorn a less sacred scene; here they are

prettinesses, that can scarcely be tolerated by the grandeur of its

character. The tremendous mountains, which scowl over the gorge of

Patterdale; the cliffs, massy, broken and overlooked by a multitude

of dark summits, with the grey walls of Swarth and Martindale fells,

that upheave themselves on the eastern shore, form altogether one of

the most grand and awful pictures on the lake; yet, admirable and

impressive as it is, as to solemnity and astonishment, its effect with

us was not equal to that of the more alpine sketch, caught in distant

perspective from the descent into Gowbarrow-park.

In these views of Ullswater, sublimity and greatness are the

predominating characters, though beauty often glows upon the western

bank. The mountains are all bold, gloomy and severe. When we saw them,

the sky accorded well with the scene, being frequently darkened by

autumnal clouds; and the equinoctial gale swept the surface of the

lake, marking its blackness with long white lines, and beating its

waves over the rocks to the foliage of the thickets above. The trees,

that shade these eminences, give greater force to the scenes, which

they either partially exclude, or wholly admit, and become themselves

fine objects, enriched as they are with the darkest moss.

From hence the ride to the village of Patterdale, at the lake's head,

is, for the first part, over precipices covered with wood, whence you

look down, on the left, upon the water, or upon pastures stretching

to it; on the right, the rocks rise abruptly, and often impend their

masses over the road; or open to narrow dells, green, rocky and

overlooked by endless mountains.

About half way to the village of Patterdale, a peninsula spreads from

this shore into the lake, where a white house, peeping from a grove and

surrounded with green enclosures, is beautifully placed. This is an

inn, and, perhaps the principal one, as to accommodation; but, though

its situation on a spot which on each side commands the lake, is very

fine, it is not comparable, in point of wildness and sublimity, to

that of the cottage, called the King's Arms, at Patterdale. In the way

thither, are enchanting catches of the lake, between the trees on

the left, and peeps into the glens, that wind among the alps towards

Helvellyn, on the right. These multiply near the head of Ullswater,

where they start off as from one point, like radii, and conclude in

trackless solitudes.

It is difficult to spread varied pictures of such scenes before the

imagination. A repetition of the same images of rock, wood and water,

and the same epithets of grand, vast and sublime, which necessarily

occur, must appear tautologous, on paper, though their archetypes in

nature, ever varying in outline, or arrangement, exhibit new visions to

the eye, and produce new shades of effect on the mind. It is difficult,

also, where these delightful differences have been experienced, to

forbear dwelling on the remembrance, and attempting to sketch the

peculiarities, which occasioned them. The scenery at the head of

Ullswater is especially productive of such difficulties, where a wish

to present the picture, and a consciousness of the impossibility of

doing so, except by the pencil, meet and oppose each other.

Patterdale itself is a name somewhat familiar to recollection, from the

circumstance of the chief estate in it having given to its possessors,

for several centuries, the title of Kings of Patterdale. The last

person so distinguished was richer than his ancestors, having increased

his income, by the most ludicrous parsimony, to a thousand pounds a

year. His son and successor is an industrious country gentleman, who

has improved the sort of farming mansion, annexed to the estate, and,

not affecting to depart much from the simple manners of the other

inhabitants, is respectable enough to be generally called by his own

name of Mounsey, instead of the title, which was probably seldom given

to his ancestors, but in some sort of mockery.

The village is very humble, as to the conditions and views of

the inhabitants; and very respectable, as to their integrity and

simplicity, and to the contentment, which is proved by the infrequency

of emigrations to other districts. It straggles at the feet of fells,

somewhat removed from the lake and near the entrance of the wild vale

of Glenridding. Its white church is seen nearly from the commencement

of the last reach, rising among trees, and in the church-yard are the

ruins of an antient yew, of remarkable size and venerable beauty; its

trunk, hollowed and silvered by age, resembles twisted roots; yet the

branches, that remain above, are not of melancholy black, but flourish

in rich verdure and flaky foliage.

The inn is beyond the village, securely sheltered under high crags,

while enormous fells, close on the right, open to the gorge of

Patterdale; and Coldrill-beck, issuing from it, descends among the

corn and meadows, to join the lake at little distance. We had a happy

evening at this cleanly cottage, where there was no want, without its

recompense, from the civil offices of the people. Among the rocks, that

rose over it, is a station, which has been more frequently selected

than any other on the lake by the painter and the lover of the _beau

idée_, as the French and Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS expressively term what Mr.

BURKE explains in his definition of the word _fine_. Below the point,

on which we stood, a tract of corn and meadow land fell gently to the

lake, which expanded in great majesty beyond, bounded on the right

by the precipices of many fells, and, on the left, by rocks finely

wooded, and of more broken and spiry outline. The undulating pastures

and copses of Gowbarrow closed the perspective. Round the whole of

these shores, but particularly on the left, rose clusters of dark

and pointed summits, assuming great variety of shape, amongst which

Helvellyn was still pre-eminent. Immediately around us, all was vast

and gloomy; the fells mount swiftly and to enormous heights, leaving at

their bases only crags and hillocks, tufted with thickets of dwarf-oak

and holly, where the beautiful cattle, that adorned them, and a few

sheep, were picking a scanty supper among the heath.

From this spot glens open on either hand, that lead the eye only to

a chaos of mountains. The profile of one near the fore-ground on the

right is remarkably grand, shelving from the summit in one vast sweep

of rock, with only some interruption of craggy points near its base,

into the water. On one side, it unites with the fells in the gorge of

Patterdale, and, on the other, winds into a bold bay for the lake.

Among the highlands, seen over the left shore, is Common-fell, a large

heathy mountain, which appeared to face us. Somewhat nearer, is a

lower one, called Glenridding, and above it the Nab. Grassdale has

Glenridding and the Nab on one side towards the water, and Birks-fell

and St. Sunday's-crag over that, on the other. The points, that rise

above the Nab, are Stridon-edge, then Cove's head, and, over all, the

precipices of dark Helvellyn, now appearing only at intervals among the

clouds.

Not only every fell of this wild region has a name, but almost every

crag of every fell, so that shepherds sitting at the fire-side can

direct each other to the exact spot among the mountains, where a stray

sheep has been seen.

Among the rocks on the right shore, is Martindale-fell, once shaded

with a forest, from which it received its name, and which spreading

to a vast extent over the hills and vallies beyond, even as far as

Hawswater, darkened the front of Swarth-fell and several others, that

impend over the first and second reach of Ullswater. Of the mountains,

which tower above the glen of Patterdale, the highest are Harter's

fell, Kidstow-pike, and the ridge, called the High-street; a name,

which reminded us of the German denomination, _Berg-strasse_.

The effect of a stormy evening upon the scenery was solemn. Clouds

smoked along the fells, veiling them for a moment, and passing on to

other summits; or sometimes they involved the lower steeps, leaving the

tops unobscured and resembling islands in a distant ocean. The lake was

dark and tempestuous, dashing the rocks with a strong foam. It was a

scene worthy of the sublimity of Ossian, and brought to recollection

some touches of his gloomy pencil. "When the storms of the mountains

come, when the north lifts the waves on high, I sit by the sounding

shore, &c."

A large hawk, sailing proudly in the air, and wheeling among the stormy

clouds, superior to the shock of the gust, was the only animated object

in the upward prospect. We were told, that the eagles had forsaken

their aeries in this neighbourhood and in Borrowdale, and are fled to

the isle of Man; but one had been seen in Patterdale, the day before,

which, not being at its full growth, could not have arrived from a

great distance.

We returned to our low-roofed habitation, where, as the wind swept in

hollow gusts along the mountains and strove against our casements, the

crackling blaze of a wood fire lighted up the cheerfulness, which,

so long since as Juvenal's time, has been allowed to arise from the

contrast of ease against difficulty. _Suave mari magno, turbantibus

aquora ventis_; and, however we might exclaim,

---- ---- ---- "be my retreat

Between the groaning forest and the shore,

Beat by the boundless multitude of waves!"

it was pleasant to add,

"Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join

To cheer the gloom."