The next morning, we proceeded from Ullswater along the vale of
Emont, so sweetly adorned by the woods and lawns of Dalemain, the
seat of Mr. Hassel, whose mansion is seen in the bottom. One of the
most magnificent prospects in the country is when this vale opens to
that of Eden. The mountainous range of Cross-fell fronted us, and its
appearance, this day, was very striking, for the effect of autumnal
light and shade. The upper range, bright in sunshine, appeared to rise,
like light clouds above the lower, which was involved in dark shadow,
so that it was a considerable time before the eye could detect the
illusion. The effect of this was inexpressibly interesting.
Within view of Emont bridge, which divides the counties of Cumberland
and Westmoreland, is that memorial of antient times, so often described
under the name of Arthur's Round Table; a green circular spot of forty
paces diameter, enclosed by a dry ditch, and, beyond this, by a bank;
each in sufficient preservation to shew exactly what has been its
form. In the midst of the larger circle is another of only seven paces
diameter. We have no means of adding to, or even of corroborating
any of the well known conjectures, concerning the use of this rude
and certainly very antient monument. Those not qualified to propose
decisions in this respect may, however, suffer themselves to believe,
that the bank without the ditch and the enclosure within it were places
for different classes of persons, interested as parties, or spectators,
in some transactions, passing within the inner circle; and that
these, whether religious, civil, or military ceremonies, were rendered
distinct and conspicuous, for the purpose of impressing them upon the
memory of the spectators, at a time when memory and tradition were the
only preservatives of history.
Passing a bridge, under which the Lowther, from winding and romantic
banks, enters the vale of Eden, we ascended between the groves of
Bird's Nest, or, as it is now called, Brougham Hall; a white mansion,
with battlements and gothic windows, having formerly a bird painted
on the front. It is perched among woods, on the brow of a steep, but
not lofty hill, and commands enchanting prospects over the vale.
The winding Emont; the ruins of Brougham Castle on a green knoll of
Whinfield park, surrounded with old groves; far beyond this, the
highlands of Cross-fell; to the north, Carleton-hall, the handsome
modern mansion of Mr. Wallace, amidst lawns of incomparable verdure
and luxuriant woods falling from the heights; further still, the
mountain, town and beacon of Penrith; these are the principal features
of the rich landscape, spread before the eye from the summit of the
hill, at Bird's Nest.
As we descended to Brougham Castle, about a mile further, its ruined
masses of pale red stone, tufted with shrubs and plants, appeared
between groves of fir, beach, oak and ash, amidst the broken ground of
Whinfield park, a quarter of a mile through which brought us to the
ruin itself. It was guarded by a sturdy mastiff, worthy the office of
porter to such a place, and a good effigy of the Sir Porter of a former
age. Brougham Castle, venerable for its well-certified antiquity and
for the hoary masses it now exhibits, is rendered more interesting by
having been occasionally the residence of the humane and generous Sir
Philip Sydney; who had only to look from the windows of this once noble
edifice to see his own "Arcadia" spreading on every side. The landscape
probably awakened his imagination, for it was during a visit here, that
the greatest part of that work was written.
This edifice, once amongst the strongest and most important of the
border fortresses, is supposed to have been founded by the Romans;
but the first historical record concerning it is dated in the time of
William the Conqueror, who granted it to his nephew, Hugh de Albinois.
His successors held it, till 1170, when Hugh de Morville, one of the
murderers of Thomas a Becket, forfeited it by his crime. Brougham
was afterwards granted by King John to a grandson of Hugh, Robert de
Vipont, whose grandson again forfeited the estate, which was, however,
restored to his daughters, one of whom marrying a De Clifford, it
remained in this family, till a daughter of the celebrated Countess of
Pembroke gave it by marriage to that of the Tuftons, Earls of Thanet,
in which it now remains.
This castle has been thrice nearly demolished; first by neglect, during
the minority of Roger de Vipont, after which it was sufficiently
restored to receive James the First, on his return from Scotland, in
1617; secondly, in the civil wars of Charles the First's time; and
thirdly, in 1728, when great part of the edifice was deliberately
taken down, and the materials sold for one hundred pounds. Some of
the walls still remaining are twelve feet thick, and the places are
visible, in which the massy gates were held to them by hinges and bolts
of uncommon size. A fuller proof of the many sacrifices of comfort
and convenience, by which the highest classes in former ages were
glad to purchase security, is very seldom afforded, than by the three
detached parts still left of this edifice; but they shew nothing of the
magnificence and gracefulness, which so often charm the eye in gothic
ruins. Instead of these, they exhibit symptoms of the cruelties, by
which their first lords revenged upon others the wretchedness of the
continual suspicion felt by themselves. Dungeons, secret passages and
heavy iron rings remain to hint of unhappy wretches, who were, perhaps,
rescued only by death from these horrible engines of a tyrant's will.
The bones probably of such victims are laid beneath the damp earth of
these vaults.
A young woman from a neighbouring farm-house conducted us over broken
banks, washed by the Emont, to what had been the grand entrance of
the castle; a venerable gothic gateway, dark and of great depth,
passing under a square tower, finely shadowed by old elms. Above, are a
cross-loop and two tier of small pointed windows; no battlements appear
at the top; but four rows of corbells, which probably once supported
them, now prop some tufts of antient thorn, that have roots in their
fractures.
As we passed under this long gateway, we looked into what is still
called the Keep, a small vaulted room, receiving light only from
loops in the outward wall; Near a large fire-place, yet entire, is a
trap door leading to the dungeon below; and, in an opposite corner, a
door-case to narrow stairs, that wind up the turret where, too, as well
as in the vault, prisoners were probably secured. One almost saw the
surly keeper descending through this door-case, and heard him rattle
the keys of the chambers above, listening with indifference to the
clank of chains and to the echo of that groan below, which seemed to
rend the heart it burst from.
This gloomy gateway, which had once sounded with the trumpets and
horses of James the First, when he visited the Earl of Cumberland,
this gateway, now serving only to shelter cattle from the storm,
opens, at length, to a grassy knoll, with bold masses of the ruin
scattered round it and a few old ash trees, waving in the area. Through
a fractured arch in the rampart some features in the scenery without
appear to advantage; the Emont falling over a weir at some distance,
with fulling-mills on the bank above; beyond, the pastured slopes and
woodlands of Carleton park, and Cross-fell sweeping the back-ground.
Of the three ruinous parts, that now remain of the edifice, one large
square mass, near the tower and gateway, appears to have contained
the principal apartments; the walls are of great height, and, though
roofless, nearly entire. We entered what seemed to have been the great
hall, now choaked with rubbish and weeds. It was interesting to look
upwards through the void, and trace by the many window-cases, that
appeared at different heights in the walls, somewhat of the plan of
apartments, whose floors and ceilings had long since vanished; majestic
reliques, which shewed, that here, as well as at Hardwick, the chief
rooms had been in the second story. Door-cases, that had opened to
rooms without this building, with remains of passages within the walls,
were frequently seen, and, here and there, in a corner at a vast
height, fragments of a winding stair-case, appearing beyond the arch of
a slender door-way.
We were tempted to enter a ruinous passage below, formed in the great
thickness of the walls; but it was soon lost in darkness, and we were
told that no person had ventured to explore the end of this, or of
many similar passages among the ruins, now the dens of serpents and
other venomous reptiles. It was probably a secret way to the great
dungeon, which may still be seen, underneath the hall; for the roof
remains, though what was called the Sweating Pillar, from the dew,
that was owing to its damp situation and its seclusion from outward
air, no longer supports it. Large iron rings, fastened to the carved
heads of animals, are still shewn in the walls of this dungeon. Not a
single loop-hole was left by the contriver of this hideous vault for
the refreshment of prisoners; yet were they insulted by some display
of gothic elegance, for the pillar already mentioned, supporting the
centre of the roof, spread from thence into eight branches, which
descended the walls, and terminated at the floor in the heads, holding
the iron rings.
The second mass of the ruin, which, though at a considerable distance
from the main building, was formerly connected with it, shews the walls
of many small chambers, with reliques of the passages and stairs,
that led to them. But, perhaps, the only picturesque feature of the
castle is the third detachment; a small tower finely shattered, having
near its top a flourishing ash, growing from the solid walls, and
overlooking what was once the moat. We mounted a perilous stair-case,
of which many steps were gone, and others trembled to the pressure;
then gained a turret, of which two sides were also fallen, and, at
length, ascended to the whole magnificence and sublimity of the
prospect.
To the east, spread nearly all the rich vale of Eden, terminated by the
Stainmore hills and other highlands of Yorkshire; to the north-east,
the mountains of Cross-fell bounded the long landscape. The nearer
grounds were Whinfield-park, broken, towards the Emont, into shrubby
steeps, where the deep red of the soil mingled with the verdure of
foliage; part of Sir Michael le Fleming's woods rounding a hill on the
opposite bank, and, beyond, a wide extent of low land. To the south,
swelled the upland boundaries of Bampton-vale, with Lowther-woods,
shading the pastures and distantly crowned by the fells of Hawswater;
more to the west, Bird's Nest, "bosomed high in tufted trees;" at its
foot, Lowther-bridge, and, a little further, the neat hamlet and bridge
of Emont. In the low lands, still nearer, the Lowther and Emont united,
the latter flowing in shining circles among the woods and deep-green
meadows of Carleton-park. Beyond, at a vast distance to the west and
north, rose all the alps of all the lakes! an horizon scarcely to be
equalled in England. Among these broken mountains, the shaggy ridge of
Saddleback was proudly pre-eminent; but one forked top of its rival
Skiddaw peeped over its declining side. Helvellyn, huge and misshapen,
towered above the fells of Ullswater. The sun's rays, streaming from
beneath a line of dark clouds, that overhung the west, gave a tint of
silvery light to all these alps, and reminded us of the first exquisite
appearance of the mountains, at Goodesberg, which, however, in grandeur
and elegance of outline, united with picturesque richness, we have
never seen equalled.
Of the walls around us every ledge, marking their many stories, was
embossed with luxuriant vegetation. Tufts of the hawthorn seemed to
grow from the solid stone, and slender saplings of ash waved over the
deserted door-cases, where, at the transforming hour of twilight,
the superstitious eye might mistake them for spectres of some early
possessor of the castle, restless from guilt, or of some sufferer
persevering from vengeance.