The deep retirement of its situation, the venerable grandeur of its
gothic arches and the luxuriant yet ancient trees, that shadow this
forsaken spot, are circumstances of picturesque and, if the expression
may be allowed, of sentimental beauty, which fill the mind with solemn
yet delightful emotion. This glen is called the Vale of Nightshade, or,
more literally from its ancient title Bekangs-gill, the "glen of deadly
nightshade," that plant being abundantly found in the neighbourhood.
Its romantic gloom and sequestered privacy particularly adapted it
to the austerities of monastic life; and in the most retired part of
it King Stephen, while Earl of Mortaign and Bulloign, founded, in the
year 1127, the magnificent monastery of Furness, and endowed it with
princely wealth and almost princely authority, in which it was second
only to Fontain's-abbey in Yorkshire.
The windings of the glen conceal these venerable ruins, till they are
closely approached, and the bye road, that conducted us, is margined
with a few ancient oaks, which stretch their broad branches entirely
across it, and are finely preparatory objects to the scene beyond. A
sudden bend in this road brought us within view of the northern gate of
the Abbey, a beautiful gothic arch, one side of which is luxuriantly
festooned with nightshade. A thick grove of plane-trees, with some
oak and beech, overshadow it on the right, and lead the eye onward
to the ruins of the Abbey, seen through this dark arch in remote
perspective, over rough but verdant ground. The principal features
are the great northern window and part of the eastern choir, with
glimpses of shattered arches and stately walls beyond, caught between
the gaping casements. On the left, the bank of the glen is broken
into knolls capped with oaks, which in some places spread downwards
to a stream that winds round the ruin, and darken it with their rich
foliage. Through this gate is the entrance to the immediate precincts
of the Abbey, an area said to contain sixty-five acres, now called the
Deer-park. It is enclosed by a stone wall, on which the remains of many
small buildings and the faint vestiges of others, still appear; such
as the porter's lodge, mills, granaries, ovens and kilns that once
supplied the monastery, some of which, seen under the shade of the fine
old trees, that on every side adorn the broken steeps of this glen,
have a very interesting effect.
Just within the gate, a small manor house of modern date, with its
stables and other offices, breaks discordantly upon the lonely grandeur
of the scene. Except this, the character of the deserted ruin is
scrupulously preserved in the surrounding area; no spade has dared to
level the inequalities, which fallen fragments have occasioned in the
ground, or shears to clip the wild fern and underwood, that overspread
it; but every circumstance conspires to heighten the solitary grace of
the principal object and to prolong the luxurious melancholy, which
the view of it inspires. We made our way among the pathless fern and
grass to the north end of the church, now, like every other part of
the Abbey, entirely roofless, but shewing the lofty arch of the great
window, where, instead of the painted glass that once enriched it, are
now tufted plants and wreaths of nightshade. Below is the principal
door of the church, bending into a deep round arch, which, retiring
circle within circle, is rich and beautiful; the remains of a winding
stair-case are visible within the wall on its left side. Near this
northern end of the edifice are seen one side of the eastern choir,
with its two slender gothic window frames, and on the west a remnant of
the nave of the Abbey and some lofty arches, which once belonged to the
belfry, now detached from the main building.
To the south, but concealed from this point of view, are the
chapter-house, some years ago exhibiting a roof of beautiful gothic
fretwork, and which was almost the only part of the Abbey thus
ornamented, its architecture having been characterised by an air
of grand simplicity rather than by the elegance and richness of
decoration, which in an after date distinguished the gothic style in
England. Over the chapter-house were once the library and scriptorium,
and beyond it are still the remains of cloisters of the refectory, the
locutorium, or conversation-room, and the calefactory. These, with the
walls of some chapels, of the vestry, a hall, and of what is believed
to have been a school-house, are all the features of this noble edifice
that can easily be traced: winding stair-cases within the surprising
thickness of the walls, and door-cases involved in darkness and
mystery, the place abounds with.
The abbey, which was formerly of such magnitude as nearly to fill up
the breadth of the glen, is built of a pale-red stone, dug from the
neighbouring rocks, now changed by time and weather to a tint of dusky
brown, which accords well with the hues of plants and shrubs that
every where emboss the mouldering arches.
The finest view of the ruin is on the east side, where, beyond the
vast, shattered frame that once contained a richly-painted window, is
seen a perspective of the choir and of distant arches, remains of the
nave of the abbey, closed by the woods. This perspective of the ruin
is[3] said to be two hundred and eighty-seven feet in length; the choir
part of it is in width only twenty-eight feet inside, but the nave is
seventy: the walls, as they now stand, are fifty-four feet high and in
thickness five. Southward from the choir extend the still beautiful,
though broken, pillars and arcades of some chapels, now laid open to
the day; the chapter-house, the cloisters, and beyond all, and detached
from all, is the school-house, a large building, the only part of the
monastery that still boasts a roof.
[3] "Antiquities of Furness."
As, soothed by the venerable shades and the view of a more venerable
ruin, we rested opposite to the eastern window of the choir, where
once the high altar stood, and, with five other altars, assisted the
religious pomp of the scene; the images and the manners of times,
that were past, rose to reflection. The midnight procession of monks,
clothed in white and bearing lighted tapers, appeared to the "mind's
eye" issuing to the choir through the very door-case, by which such
processions were wont to pass from the cloisters to perform the matin
service, when, at the moment of their entering the church, the deep
chanting of voices was heard, and the organ swelled a solemn peal. To
fancy, the strain still echoed feebly along the arcades and died in the
breeze among the woods, the rustling leaves mingling with the close.
It was easy to image the abbot and the officiating priests seated
beneath the richly-fretted canopy of the four stalls, that still remain
entire in the southern wall, and high over which is now perched a
solitary yew-tree, a black funereal memento to the living of those who
once sat below.
Of a quadrangular court on the west side of the church, three hundred
and thirty-four feet long and one hundred and two feet wide, little
vestige now appears, except the foundation of a range of cloisters,
that formed its western boundary, and under the shade of which the
monks on days of high solemnity passed in their customary procession
round the court. What was the belfry is now a huge mass of detached
ruin, picturesque from the loftiness of its shattered arches and the
high inequalities of the ground within them, where the tower, that
once crowned this building, having fallen, lies in vast fragments, now
covered with earth and grass, and no longer distinguishable but by the
hillock they form.
The school-house, a heavy structure attached to the boundary wall on
the south, is nearly entire, and the walls, particularly of the portal,
are of enormous thickness, but, here and there, a chasm discloses the
stair-cases, that wind within them to chambers above. The school-room
below, shews only a stone bench, that extends round the walls, and a
low stone pillar in the eastern corner, on which the teacher's pulpit
was formerly fixed. The lofty vaulted roof is scarcely distinguishable
by the dusky light admitted through one or two narrow windows placed
high from the ground, perhaps for the purpose of confining the
scholar's attention to his book.
These are the principal features, that remain of this once magnificent
abbey. It was dedicated to St. Mary, and received a colony of monks
from the monastery of Savigny in Normandy, who were called Gray Monks,
from their dress of that colour, till they became Cistercians, and,
with the severe rules of St. Bernard, adopted a white habit, which
they retained till the dissolution of monastic orders in England. The
original rules of St. Bernard partook in several instances of the
austerities of those of La Trapp, and the society did not very readily
relinquish the milder laws of St. Benedict for the new rigours imposed
upon them by the parent monastery of Savigny. They were forbidden to
taste flesh, except when ill, and even eggs, butter, cheese and milk,
but on extraordinary occasions; and denied even the use of linen
and fur. The monks were divided into two classes, to which separate
departments belonged.--Those, who attended the choir, slept upon
straw in their usual habits, from which, at midnight, they rose and
passed into the church, where they continued their holy hymns, during
the short remainder of the night. After this first mass, having
publicly confessed themselves, they retired to their cells, and the
day was employed in spiritual exercises and in copying or illuminating
manuscripts. An unbroken silence was observed, except when, after
dinner, they withdrew into the locutorium, where for an hour, perhaps,
they were permitted the common privilege of social beings. This class
was confined to the boundary wall, except that, on some particular
days, the members of it were allowed to walk in parties beyond it, for
exercise and amusement; but they were very seldom permitted either to
receive, or pay visits. Like the monks of La Trapp, however, they
were distinguished for extensive charities and liberal hospitality;
for travellers were so scrupulously entertained at the Abbey, that it
was not till the dissolution that an inn was thought necessary in this
part of Furness, when one was opened for their accommodation, expressly
because the monastery could no longer receive them.
To the second class were assigned the cultivation of the lands, and the
performance of domestic affairs in the monastery.
This was the second house in England, that received the Bernardine
rules, the most rigorous of which were, however, dispensed with in
1485 by Sixtus the Fourth, when, among other indulgences, the whole
order was allowed to taste meat on three days of the week. With the
rules of St. Benedict, the monks had exchanged their gray habit for a
white cassock with a white caul and scapulary. But their choir dress
was either white or gray, with caul and scapulary of the same, and a
girdle of black wool; over that a mozet, or hood, and a rochet[4]. When
they went abroad they wore a caul and full black hood.
[4] "Antiquities of Furness."
The privileges and immunities, granted to the Cistercian order in
general, were very abundant; and those, to the Abbey of Furness were
proportioned to its vast endowments. The abbot, it has been mentioned,
held his secular court in the neighbouring castle of Dalton, where
he presided with the power of administering not only justice but
injustice, since the lives and property of the villain tenants of the
lordship of Furness were consigned by a grant of King Stephen to the
disposal of my lord abbot! The monks also could be arraigned, for
whatever crime, only by him. "The military establishment of Furness
likewise depended on the abbot. Every mesne lord and free homager, as
well as the customary tenants, took an oath of fealty to the abbot,
to be true to him against all men, excepting the king. Every mesne
lord obeyed the summons of the abbot, or his steward, in raising his
quota of armed men, and every tenant of a whole tenement furnished a
man and horse of war for guarding the coast, for the border-service,
or any expedition against the common enemy of the king and kingdom.
The habiliments of war were a steel coat, or coat of mail, a falce,
or falchion, a jack, the bow, the bill, the cross-bow and spear. The
Furness legion consisted of four divisions:--one of bowmen horsed
and harnessed; bylmen horsed and harnessed; bowmen without horse and
harness; bylmen without horse and harness[5]."
[5] "Antiquities of Furness."
The deep forests, that once surrounded the Abbey, and overspread all
Furness, contributed with its insulated situation, on a neck of land
running out into the sea, to secure it from the depredations of the
Scots, who were continually committing hostilities on the borders. On
a summit over the Abbey are the remains of a beacon, or watch-tower,
raised by the society for their further security. It commands extensive
views over Low Furness and the bay of the sea immediately beneath;
looking forward to the town and castle of Lancaster, appearing faintly
on the opposite coast; on the south, to the isles of Wanley, Foulney,
and their numerous islets, on one of which stands Peel-castle;
and, on the north, to the mountains of High Furness and Coniston,
rising in grand amphitheatre round this inlet of the Irish Channel.
Description can scarcely suggest the full magnificence of such a
prospect, to which the monks, emerging from their concealed cells
below, occasionally resorted to sooth the asperities, which the severe
discipline of superstition inflicted on the temper; or, freed from the
observance of jealous eyes, to indulge, perhaps, the sigh of regret,
which a consideration of the world they had renounced, thus gloriously
given back to their sight, would sometimes awaken.
From Hawcoat, a few miles to the west of Furness, the view is still
more extensive, whence, in a clear day, the whole length of the Isle of
Man may be seen, with part of Anglesey and the mountains of Caernarvon,
Merionethshire, Denbighshire and Flintshire, shadowing the opposite
horizon of the channel.
The sum total of all rents belonging to the Abbey immediately before
the dissolution, was 946l. 2s. 10d. collected from Lancashire,
Cumberland, and even from the Isle of Man; a sum, which considering the
value of money at that period; and the woods, meadows, pastures, and
fisheries, retained by the society in their own hands; the quantity of
provisions for domestic use brought by the tenants instead of rent,
and the shares of mines, mills, and salt-works, which belonged to the
Abbey, swells its former riches to an enormous amount.
Pyle, the last abbot, surrendered with twenty-nine monks, to Henry the
Eighth, April the 9th 1537, and in return was made Rector of Dalton,
a situation then valued at thirty-three pounds six shillings and
eight-pence a year.