"Before the mansion lay a lucid lake,
Broad as transparent, deep, and freshly fed
By a river, which its softened way did take
in currents through the calmer water spread
Around: the wild fowl nestled in the brake
And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed:
The woods sloped downward to its brink, and stood
With their green faces fixed upon the flood."
Such is Lord Byron's description of one of a series of beautiful sheets
of water, formed in old times by the monks by damming up the course of
a small river. Here he used daily to enjoy his favorite recreations in
swimming and sailing. The "wicked old Lord," in his scheme of rural
devastation, had cut down all the woods that once fringed the lake;
Lord Byron, on coming of age, endeavored to restore them, and a
beautiful young wood, planted by him, now sweeps up from the water's
edge, and clothes the hillside opposite to the Abbey. To this woody
nook Colonel Wildman has given the appropriate title of "the Poet's
Corner."
The lake has inherited its share of the traditions and fables connected
with everything in and about the Abbey. It was a petty Mediterranean
sea on which the "wicked old Lord" used to gratify his nautical tastes
and humors. He had his mimic castles and fortresses along its shores,
and his mimic fleets upon its waters, and used to get up mimic
sea-fights. The remains of his petty fortifications still awaken the
curious inquiries of visitors. In one of his vagaries, he caused a
large vessel to be brought on wheels from the sea-coast and launched in
the lake. The country people were surprised to see a ship thus sailing
over dry land. They called to mind a saying of Mother Shipton, the
famous prophet of the vulgar, that whenever a ship freighted with ling
should cross Sherwood Forest, Newstead would pass out of the Byron
family. The country people, who detested the old Lord, were anxious to
verify the prophecy. Ling, in the dialect of Nottingham, is the name
for heather; with this plant they heaped the fated bark as it passed,
so that it arrived full freighted at Newstead.
The most important stories about the lake, however, relate to the
treasures that are supposed to lie buried in its bosom. These may have
taken their origin in a fact which actually occurred. There was one
time fished up from the deep part of the lake a great eagle of molten
brass, with expanded wings, standing on a pedestal or perch of the same
metal. It had doubtless served as a stand or reading-desk, in the Abbey
chapel, to hold a folio Bible or missal.
The sacred relic was sent to a brazier to be cleaned. As he was at work
upon it, he discovered that the pedestal was hollow and composed of
several pieces. Unscrewing these, he drew forth a number of parchment
deeds and grants appertaining to the Abbey, and bearing the seals of
Edward III. and Henry VIII., which had thus been concealed, and
ultimately sunk in the lake by the friars, to substantiate their right
and title to these domains at some future day.
One of the parchment scrolls thus discovered, throws rather an awkward
light upon the kind of life led by the friars of Newstead. It is an
indulgence granted to them for a certain number of months, in which
plenary pardon is assured in advance for all kinds of crimes, among
which, several of the most gross and sensual are specifically
mentioned, and the weakness of the flesh to which they are prone.
After inspecting these testimonials of monkish life, in the regions of
Sherwood Forest, we cease to wonder at the virtuous indignation of
Robin Hood and his outlaw crew, at the sleek sensualists of the
cloister:
"I never hurt the husbandman,
That use to till the ground,
Nor spill their blood that range the wood
To follow hawk and hound,
"My chiefest spite to clergy is,
Who in these days bear sway;
With friars and monks with their fine spunks,
I make my chiefest prey."--OLD BALLAD OF ROBIN HOOD.
The brazen eagle has been transferred to the parochial and collegiate
church of Southall, about twenty miles from Newstead, where it may
still be seen in the centre of the chancel, supporting, as of yore, a
ponderous Bible. As to the documents it contained, they are carefully
treasured up by Colonel Wildman among his other deeds and papers, in an
iron chest secured by a patent lock of nine bolts, almost equal to a
magic spell.
The fishing up of this brazen relic, as I have already hinted, has
given rise to the tales of treasure lying at the bottom of the lake,
thrown in there by the monks when they abandoned the Abbey. The
favorite story is, that there is a great iron chest there filled with
gold and jewels, and chalices and crucifixes. Nay, that it has been
seen, when the water of the lake was unusually low. There were large
iron rings at each end, but all attempts to move it were ineffectual;
either the gold it contained was too ponderous, or what is more
probable, it was secured by one of those magic spells usually laid upon
hidden treasure. It remains, therefore, at the bottom of the lake to
this day; and it is to be hoped, may one day or other be discovered by
the present worthy proprietor.