Lays and Legends of the English Lake Country

The Cumberland tradition affirms that those persons who on Fasting's-Even, as Shrove Tuesday is vulgarly called in the North of England, do not eat heartily, are crammed with barley chaff by Hob-Thross: and so careful are the villagers to set the goblin at defiance, that scarcely a single hind retires to rest without previously partaking of a hot supper.

Sir Walter Scott tells us that the last Brownie known in Ettrick Forest, resided in Bodsbeck, a wild and solitary spot, near the head of Moffat Water, where he exercised his functions undisturbed, till the scrupulous devotion of an old lady induced her to hire him away, as it was termed, by placing in his haunt a porringer of milk and a piece of money. After receiving this hint to depart, he was heard the whole night to howl and cry, "Farewell to bonnie Bodsbeck!" which he was compelled to abandon for ever.

THE ABBOT OF CALDER

The Abbot of Calder rode out from his gateTo the town, saying, "Sorrow lies, early and late,In this wretched wide world upon every degree;And each child of the Church must have comfort from me!So on palfrey I wend to Lord Lucy's strong hold:For this life must press hard on these barons so bold."The Abbot was welcome to Lucy's proud hall.And he sat down with knights, and with ladies, and all,High at feast, joyous-hearted, light, gallant, and fair:Where to speak upon woe were but jesting with care.So his palfrey re-mounting at evening, he troll'd,"The world goes not ill with these barons so bold."Ambling on by the forge, he drew up by the flame,"Well, my son! how is all with the children and dame?Toiling on!"—"Yes! but, father, not badly we speed;We have health; and for wealth, we lack nought that we need."Then at least, thought the Monk, here no text I need urge,For the world passes well with my friend at the forge!Turning off by the stream at the foot of the hill,All were busy, as bees in a hive, at the mill."Benedicite!" cried he to women and wives,Where they sang at their labour as if for their lives,All so fat, fair, and fruitful. The Abbot jogg'd on,Humming, "Sweet, too, is rest when the labour is done."As he pass'd by the lane that leads up to the stile,Pretty Lillie came down with her curtsey and smile,—"Well, my daughter!" the Abbot said, chucking her chin;"How is Robin?—or Reuben? which—which is to win?""—Thank you!—Robin," she said, as she blushed in her sleeve;While the Monk, spurring on, laughed a joyous "good eve!"On the verge of the chase rode the falconer by:With a song on his lip and a laugh in his eye,All the day o'er the moors he had gallop'd, and nowHe was off to the quintain-match over the brow;Then to crown with good cheer all the sports of the day.And the Abbot sighed, "Springtime, and beautiful May!"And at length in the hollow he came, as he rode,To the forester Robin's trim cottage abode.And there stood the youth, ruddy, stalwart, and curled:—"—Ha, Robin! this looks not like strife with the world!"—"No! and please you, good father, she's coming to-morrow!""—Well! a blessing on both of you!—keep you from sorrow."So he reached his fair Abbey by Calder's sweet stream,Well believing all troubles in life are a dream;Looked around on his park and his fertile domain,With a thought to his cellars, a glance at his grain;While the stream through his meadow-lands rippled and purled;And exclaimed, "What a place is a sorrowful world!"And the Abbot of Calder that night o'er his bowlFelt a peace passing speech in the depths of his soul.And he dreamt mid the noise and the merry uproarOf the brethren beneath—all his fasting was o'er;That earth's many woes had to darkness been driven;And the sweet woods of Calder were gardens in Heaven.

NOTES TO "THE ABBOT OF CALDER."

On the northern bank of the river Calder, in a deeply secluded vale, sheltered by majestic forest trees, which rise from the skirts of level and luxuriant meadows to the tops of the surrounding hills, stands the ruined Abbey and home of that little colony of Monks, who, with their Abbot Gerold at their head, were detached from the mother Abbey of Furness in 1134 to begin their fortunes under the auspices of Ranulph de Meschines (the second of the name) their powerful neighbour and founder. Here they contrived to live "in some discomfort and great poverty for four years, when an army of Scots under King David despoiled the lately begun Abbey and carried away all its possessions. Finding they could get no help elsewhere, the hapless thirteen resolved to return to the maternal monastery" for refuge. This happened about the third year of King Stephen.

The Abbot of Furness refused to receive Gerold and his companions, reproaching them with cowardice for abandoning their monastery, and alleging that it was rather the love of that ease and plenty which they expected in Furness, than the devastation of the Scottish army, that forced them from Calder. Some writers say that the Abbot of Furness insisted that Gerold should divest himself of his authority, and absolve the monks from their obedience to him, as a condition of their receiving any relief. This, Gerold and his companions refused to do, and turning their faces from Furness, they, with the remains of their broken fortune, which consisted of little more than some clothes and a few books, with one cart and eight oxen, taking providence for their guide, went in quest of better hospitality.

The result of the next day's resolution was to address themselves to Thurstan, Archbishop of York, and beg his advice and relief. The reception they met with from him, answered their wishes; the Archbishop graciously received them, and charitably entertained them for some time, then recommended them to Gundrede de Aubigny, who sent them to Robert de Alneto, her brother, a hermit, at Hode, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, where for a period she supplied them with necessaries. They afterwards obtained a monastery of their own called Byland, when they voluntarily made themselves dependant upon Savigny, in order that Furness should exercise no right of paternity over them.

In the same year, 1142, the Abbot of Furness understanding that Gerold had obtained a settlement, sent another colony, with Hardred, a Furness monk, for their Abbot, to take possession of ravaged Calder, which the Lord of Egremont, William Fitz-Duncan, nephew of David, King of Scots, had refounded. Their endowments and revenues were chiefly from the founder's munificence, and were small, being valued, at the suppression, at about sixty pounds per annum.

The ruins of this Abbey are approached from Calder-Bridge by a pleasant walk for about a mile on the banks of the river, presenting several glimpses of the tower rising out of the foliage of the forest trees by which it is surrounded.

The Abbey Church was in the form of a cross, and small, the width of the chancel being only twenty five feet, and that of the transepts twenty two. Of the western front little more than the Norman doorway remains. The five pointed arches of the north side of the nave, dividing it from the aisle; the choir; the transepts, with a side chapel on the south; the square tower supported by four lofty pointed arches; the walls and windows of a small cloister running south; with the remains of upper chambers, showing a range of eight windows to the west and seven to the east, beautiful specimens of early English Architecture, terminated by a modern mansion, occupying the site of the conventual buildings, but built in a style altogether unsuited to the locality; these, with the porter's lodge at a short distance from the west end, and a large oven by the side of a rapid stream in the meadow on the east, all so changed since the times of Gerold and Hardred, constitute in our days the Abbey of Calder.

Against the walls of the Abbey are fragments of various sepulchral figures, which from the mutilated sculptures and devices on the shields, would seem to have belonged to the tombs of eminent persons. One of them is represented in a coat of mail, with his hand upon his sword; another bears a shield reversed, as a mark of disgrace for cowardice or treachery; "but," says Hutchinson, "the virtues of the one, and the errors of the other, are alike given to oblivion by the hand of time and by the scourging angel Dissolution."

Sir John le Fleming, of Beckermet, ancestor of the Flemings of Rydal Hall, Westmorland, gave lands in Great Beckermet to this abbey, in the 26th year of Henry III, A. D. 1242. He died during that long reign, and was buried in the abbey. One of the effigies above alluded to, with the shield charged fretty, is probably that mentioned by Sir Daniel Fleming, who says that in his time (in the seventeenth century) here was "a very ancient statue of a man in armour, with a frett (of six pieces) upon his shield, lying upon his back, with his sword by his side, his hands elevated in a posture of prayer, and legs across; being so placed probably from his taking upon him the cross, and being engaged in the holy war. Which statue was placed there most probably in memory of this Sir John le Fleming."

Among some ancient charters and documents in the possession of William John Charlton, of Hesleyside, Esq., (1830) and which came into his family, in 1680, by the marriage of his great-great-grandfather, with Mary, daughter of Francis Salkeld, in the parish of All-Hallows, in Cumberland, Esq., is one that is very curious. It is an assignment made in A. D. 1291, by John, son of John de Hudleston, of William, son of Richard de Loftscales, formerly his native, with all his retinue and chattels, to the Abbot and Monks of Caldra. The deed is witnessed by "Willmo. Wailburthuait. Willmo. Thuaites. Johe de Mordling. Johe Corbet. Johe de Halle et aliis:" and is alluded to in the following passages quoted by Mr. Jefferson from Archælogia Æliana. "It is, in fact, that species of grant of freedom to a slave, which is called manumission implied, in which the lord yields up all obligation to bondage, on condition of the native agreeing to an annual payment of money on a certain day. The clause, 'so that from this time they may be free, and exempt from all servitude and reproach of villainage from me and my heirs,' is very curious, especially to persons of our times, on which there has been so much said about the pomp of Eastern lords, and the reproachful slavery in which their dependents are still kept. Here the Monks of Caldra redeemed a man, his family, and property from slavery, on condition of his paying them the small sum of two pence a-year. The Hudleston family were seated at Millum, in the time of Henry the Third, when they acquired that estate, by the marriage of John de Hudleston with the Lady Joan, the heiress of the Boisville family."

"Slavery continued to thrive on the soil of Northumberland long after the time of Edward the First; for in 1470, Sir Roger Widdrington manumitted his native, William Atkinson, for the purpose of making him his bailiff of Woodhorn."

The inmates of Calder were probably neither better nor worse than other cowled fraternities. A certain Brother Beesley, a Benedictine Monk, of Pershore, in Worcestershire, speaks very boldly of certain shortcomings, in his own experience of "relygyus men." The following passage occurs in a petition addressed by him to the Vicar-General Cromwell, at the time of the visitation of the Monasteries:—

"Now y wyll ynstrux your grace sumwatt of relygyus men–. Monckes drynke an bowll after collatyon tyll ten or twelve of the clok, and cum to matyns as dronck as myss (mice)—and sum at cardys, sum at dyes, and at tabulles; sum cum to mattyns begenying at the mydes, and sum wen yt ys almost dun, and wold not cum there so only for boddly punyshment, nothyng for Goddes sayck."

THE ARMBOTH BANQUET

To Calgarth Hall in the midnight coldTwo headless skeletons cross'd the fold,Undid the bars, unlatched the door,And over the step pass'd down the floorWhere the jolly round porter sat sleeping.With a patter their feet on the pavement fall;And they traverse the stairs to that window'd wall,Where out of a niche, at the witch-hour dark,Each lifts a skull all grinning and stark,And fits it on with a creaking.Then forth they go with a ghostly march;And bending low at the portal arch,Through Calgarth woods, o'er Rydal braes,And over the Pass by Dunmail-RaiseThe Two their course are keeping.Now Wytheburn's lowly pile in sightGleams faintly beneath the new-moon's light;And farther along dim forms appear,All hurrying down to the darksome Mere,The drunken ferryman seeking.From old Helvellyn's domain they come,A spectral band demure and dumb;By twos, and threes, and fours, and more,They beckon the man to ferry them o'er,To where yon lights are breaking.And thither the twain are wending fast;For there from many a casement cast,The festal blaze is burning highIn Armboth Hall; the hills therebyIn uttermost darkness sleeping.In Wytheburn City there wakes not oneTo see those dim forms hastening on;But at Wytheburn Ferry may travellers wait,For busy with guests for Armboth gate,The boatman's sinews are aching.They've reached the shore, they've cross'd the swardTo where the old portal stands unbarr'd.With courteous steps and bearing highThey pass the hollow-eyed porter by,With his torch high over him sweeping.Then might the owls that move by nightHave seen thin shadows flit through the light,Where the windows glared along the wallIn every chamber of Armboth Hall,And the guests high revel were keeping.Then too from cold and weary waysA traveller's eyes had caught the rays:And wandering on to the silent doorHe knocked aloud—he knew no more;But the lights went out like winking.A wreath of mist rushed over the Mere,And reached Helvellyn as dawn grew near;And two thin streaks went down the windO'er Dunmail-Raise with a storm behind,The leaves in Grasmere raking.On Rydal isles the herons awoke;A pattering cloud by Wansfell broke;And the grey cock stretched his neck to crowIn Calgarth roost, that ghosts might knowIt was time for maids to be waking.The skeletons two rushed through the yard,They pushed the door they left unbarr'd,Laid by their skulls in the niched wall,And flew like wind from Calgarth HallWhere still the round porter sat sleeping.As out they rattled, the wind rushed inAnd slamm'd the doors with a terrible din;The grey cock crew; the dogs were raised;And the old porter rubb'd his eyes amazedAt the dawn so coldly breaking.And lying at morn by Armboth gateWas found the form that knocked so late;A traveller footworn, mired, and grey,Who, led by marsh lights lost his way,And coldly in death was sleeping.

NOTES TO "THE ARMBOTH BANQUET."

The Old Hall of Calgarth, whose history, it has been said, belongs to the world of shadows, but whose remains still form an object of interest from their picturesqueness and antiquity, is situated within a short distance of the water, upon the narrowest part of a small and pleasant plain on the eastern shore of Windermere. The house has been so much injured and curtailed of its original proportions, that it is impossible to make out what has been its precise form: many parts having gone entirely to decay, and others being much out of repair; the materials having been used in the erection of offices and outbuildings, for the accommodation of farmers, in whose occupation it has been for a long period. Its original character has been quite lost in the additions and alterations of later days. It is however said to have been constructed much after the style of those venerable Westmorland mansions, the Halls of Sizergh and Levens. But there are few traces of the "fair old building," which even so late as the year 1774, Dr. Burn described it to be; and the destruction of this ancient home of the Philipsons has well nigh been complete. What is now called the kitchen, and the room over it, are the only portions of the interior remaining, from which a judgment may be formed of the care and finish that have been applied to its internal decoration. In the former, which appears to have been one of the principal apartments, though now divided, and appropriated to humble uses, the armorial achievements of the Philipsons, crested with the five ostrich plumes of their house, and surmounted by their motto, "Fide non fraude," together with the bearings of Wyvill impaling Carus, into which families the owners of Calgarth intermarried, are coarsely represented in stucco over the hearth, and still serve to connect their name with the house. The large old open fireplace has been filled up by an insignificant modern invention. The window still retains some fragments of its former display of heraldic honours; the arms of the early owners, impaling those of Wyvill, and the device of Briggs, another Westmorland family, with whom the Philipsons were also matrimonially connected, yet appear in their proper blazon. And in the same window, underneath the emblazonry, is this legend, likewise in painted glass:—

Robart. Phillisonand. Jennet. Laiborne. his. wife. he. died. in. anno. 1539the. ZZ. Decembar 1579

The old dining table of black oak, reduced in its dimensions, occupies one side of this apartment. The room over the kitchen, to which a steep stair rises from the threshold of the porch, and which looks over the lake, has been nobly ornamented after the fashion of the day, by cunning artists, and it still retains in its dilapidated oak work, and richly adorned ceiling, choice, though rude remnants of its former splendour. It has a dark polished oak floor, and is wainscotted on three sides, with the same tough wood, which, bleached with age, is elaborately carved in regular intersecting panels, inlaid with scroll-work and tracery, enriched by pilasters, and surmounted by an embattled cornice. In this wainscot two or three doors indicate the entrances to other rooms, whose approaches are walled up, the rooms themselves having been long since destroyed. The ceiling is flat, and formed into compartments by heavy square intersecting moulded ribs, the intermediate spaces of which are excessively adorned with cumbrous ornamental work of the most grotesque figures and designs imaginable, amidst which festoons of flowers, fruits, and other products of the earth, mingled with heraldic achievements, moulded in stucco, yet exist, to tell how many times the fruitage and the leaves outside have come and gone, have ripened and decayed, whilst they endure unchanged.

In the window of the staircase leading to this chamber tradition has localized the famous legend of the skulls of Old Calgarth. The dilapidated, and somewhat melancholy appearance of the dwelling, in concurrence with the superstitious notions which have ever been common in country places, have probably given rise to a report, which has long prevailed, that the house is haunted. Many stories are current of the frightful visions and mischievous deeds, which the goblins of the place are said to have performed, to terrify and distress the harmless neighbourhood; and these fables are not yet entirely disbelieved. Spectres yet are occasionally to be seen within its precincts. And the two human skulls, whose history and reputed properties are too singular not to have contributed greatly to the story of the house being haunted, are, although out of sight, still within it, and as indestructible as ever.

These were wont to occupy a niche beneath the window of the staircase: and in 1775, when Mr. West visited the Hall, they still remained in the place where they had lain from time immemorial. All attempts, it is said, to dispossess them of the station they had chosen to occupy, have invariably proved fruitless. As the report goes, they have been buried, burnt, reduced to powder and dispersed in the wind, sunk in the well, and thrown into the lake, several times, to no purpose as to their permanent removal or destruction. Till at length, so persistent was found to be their attachment to the niche which they had selected for their abiding place, they are said to have been, as a last resource to keep them out of sight, walled up within it; and there they remain. Of course, many persons now living in the neighbourhood can bear testimony to the fact that the skulls did really occupy the place assigned to them by tradition.

A popular tale of immemorial standing relates that the skulls were those of an aged man and his wife, who lived on their own property adjoining the lands of the Philipsons, whose head regarded it with a covetous eye, and had long desired to number it among his extensive domains. The owners however not being willing to part with it, he determined in evil hour to have it at any cost.

The old people, as the story runs, were in the habit of going frequently to the Hall, to share in the viands which fell from the lord's table, for he was a bounteous man to the poor; and it happened once that a pie was given to them, into which had been put some articles of plate. After their return home, the valuables were missed, and the cottage being searched, the things were found therein. The result was as the author of the mischief had plotted. They were accused of theft, tried, convicted, and sentenced to be executed, and their persecutor ultimately got their inheritance. When brought up for execution, the condemned persons requested the chaplain in attendance to read the 109th psalm; for under their circumstances, there was an awful significance in the imprecatory verses, which denounced the conduct of evil doers like Philipson; and in the solemn malison prophesied against the cruel, they pronounced a curse upon the owners of Calgarth, which the gossips of the neighbourhood say has ever since cast its blight upon the proprietorship of the estate; and that, notwithstanding whatever authentic records may prove to the contrary, the traditionary malediction has been regularly fulfilled down to the present time. After the death of his victims, the oppressor was greatly tormented; for, as if to perpetuate the memory of such injustice, and as a memento of their innocence, their skulls came and took up a position in the window of one of the rooms in the Hall, from whence they could not by any means be effectually removed, the common belief being that they were for that end indestructible, and it was stoutly asserted that to whatever place they were taken, or however used, they invariably reappeared in their old station by the window.

The property of Calgarth came by purchase into the possession of the late Dr. Watson, Lord Bishop of Llandaff, who built a mansion upon the estate, where he passed much of the later period of his life: and who lies buried in the neighbouring churchyard of Bowness. The Bishop's grandson, Richard Luther Watson, Esquire, is the present possessor.

It is believed that anciently a burial ground was attached to the buildings of Old Calgarth; as when the ground has been trenched thereabouts, quantities of human bones have frequently been turned over and re-buried. There are now in the dairy of the Old Hall two flat tombstones, with the name of Philipson inscribed upon them, which not very many years ago were dug up in the garden near the house; their present use being a desecration quite in accordance with the associations which hang around the place. This circumstance may afford a clue to the re-appearance of the skulls so frequently, after every art of destruction had been tried upon them, in the mysterious chambers of Old Calgarth Hall.

The old house at Armboth, on Thirlmere, has also the reputation of being occasionally at midnight supernaturally lighted up for the reception of spectres, which cross the lake from Helvellyn for some mysterious purpose within its walls. The long low white edifice lying close under the fells which rise abruptly behind it, with the black waters of the lake in front, has something very gloomy and weird-like about its aspect, which does not ill accord with those superstitious ideas with which it is sometimes associated. As Miss Martineau has said, "there is really something remarkable, and like witchery, about the house. On a bright moonlight night, the spectator who looks towards it from a distance of two or three miles, sees the light reflected from its windows into the lake; and when a slight fog gives a reddish hue to the light, the whole might easily be taken for an illumination of a great mansion. And this mansion seems to vanish as you approach,—being no mansion, but a small house lying in a nook, and overshadowed by a hill."

The City of Wytheburn is the name given to a few houses, some of them graced by native trees, and others by grotesquely cut yew trees, distant about half a mile from the head of Thirlmere.