Chapter X: Part 10

Holm Isle, Belle Isle, or Curwen's Island, as it is sometimes
called from the name of its present proprietor, formerly belonged
to the Philipsons of Calgarth, an ancient family in Westmorland.
It is the largest island in Windermere, lying obliquely across
the lake, just above its narrowest part called the Straits, and
opposite to Bowness. It is of an oblong shape, distant on one side
from the shore about half a mile, on the other considerably less,
while at its northern and southern points there is a large sheet
of water extending four or five miles. It is about one mile and
three-quarters in circumference, and contains nearly thirty acres
of land. Its shores are irregular, occasionally retiring into bays,
or breaking into creeks. A circular structure surmounted by a
dome-shaped roof was erected upon it in 1776, which is so planned
as to command a prospect of the whole lake. The plantations,
consisting of Weymouth pines, ash and other trees, are disposed so
as to afford a complete shelter to the house, without intercepting
the view. The grounds are tastefully laid out; and the island is
surrounded by a gravel walk, which strangers are permitted to use.
In the middle are a few clumps of trees; and a neat boat-house has
been erected contiguous to the place of landing.

When the ground underneath the site of the house was excavated,
traces of an ancient building were discovered at a considerable
depth below the surface; among which were a great number of old
bricks, and a chimney-piece in its perfect state. Several pieces
of old armour, weapons, and cannon balls were also found embedded
in the soil. In levelling the ground on the north part of the
building, a beautiful pavement formed of a small kind of pebbles,
and several curious gravel walks were cut through. These were
probably some remains of "the strong house on the island," in
which Huddleston Philipson is said to have left the family treasure
under the care of his brother "Robin," while he was absent in the
Royal cause at the siege of Carlisle.

During the civil wars these two members of the Philipson family
served the king. Huddleston, the elder, who was the proprietor
of this island, commanded a regiment. Robert held a commission
as major in the same service. He was a man of great spirit and
enterprise; and for his many feats of personal valour, had obtained
among the Oliverians of those parts the appellation of _Robin the
Devil_.

After the war had subsided, and the more direful effects of public
opposition had ceased, revenge and private malice long kept alive
the animosities of individuals. Colonel Briggs, a distant kinsman
of the Philipsons, of whom, notwithstanding, he was a bitter enemy,
and a steady friend to the usurpation, resided at this time at
Kendal; and under the double character of a leading magistrate and
an active commander, held the county in awe. This person having
heard that Major Philipson was at his brother's house, on the
island in Windermere, resolved, if possible, to seize and punish a
man who had made himself so particularly obnoxious. With this view
he mustered a party which he thought sufficient, and went himself
on the enterprise. How it was conducted the narrator does not
inform us--whether he got together the navigation of the lake, and
blockaded the place by sea, or whether he landed, and carried on
his approach in form. It is probable, as he was reduced to severe
privation, that Briggs had seized all the boats upon the lake,
and stopped the supplies. Neither do we learn the strength of the
garrison within, nor of the works without, though every gentleman's
house was at that time in some degree a fortress. All we learn is,
that Major Philipson endured a siege of eight or ten days with
great gallantry; till his brother the Colonel, hearing of his
distress, raised a party, and relieved him; or, as another account
says, till his brother returned from Carlisle, after the siege of
that city was raised.

It was now the Major's turn to make reprisals. He put himself
therefore at the head of a little troop of horse, and rode to
Kendal. Here being informed that Colonel Briggs was at prayers
(for it was on a Sunday morning), he stationed his men properly in
the avenues, and himself, armed, rode directly into the church. It
is said he intended to seize the Colonel and carry him off; but
as this seems to have been totally impracticable, it is rather
probable that his intention was to kill him on the spot; and in the
midst of the confusion, to escape. Whatever his intention was, it
was frustrated, for Briggs happened to be elsewhere.

The congregation, as might be expected, was thrown into great
confusion on seeing an armed man, on horseback, make his
appearance amongst them; and the Major, taking advantage of their
astonishment, turned his horse round, and walked quietly out.
But having given an alarm, he was presently assaulted as he left
the assembly; and, being seized, his girths were cut, and he was
unhorsed.

Another account says, that having dashed forward down the principal
aisle of the church, and having discovered that his principal
object could not be effected, he was making his escape by another
aisle, when his head came violently in contact with the arch of
the doorway, which was much lower than that through which he had
entered; that his helmet was struck off by the blow, his saddle
girth gave way, and he himself, much stunned, was thrown to the
ground.

At this instant his party made a furious attack on the assailants,
who taking advantage of his mishap, attempted to detain him; and
the Major killed with his own hand the man who had seized him,
clapped the saddle, ungirthed as it was, upon the horse, and
vaulting into it, rode full speed through the streets of Kendal,
calling his men to follow him, and with his whole party made a
safe retreat to his asylum on the lake, which he reached about two
o'clock.

The action marked the man. Many knew him; and they who did not,
knew as well from the exploit, that it could be nobody but _Robin
the Devil_.

In the Bellingham Chapel, in Kendal Church, is suspended high over
an ancient altar tomb, a battered helmet, through whose crust of
whitewash the rust of ages is plainly to be discerned. Whether this
antique casque belonged to Sir Roger Bellingham, who was interred
A. D. 1557 in the tomb beneath, and was exalted as a token of
the distinction he had received, when made a knight banneret by
the hand of his sovereign on the field of battle, or was won by
the puissant burgesses of Kendal from one of the Philipsons, and
elevated to its present position as a trophy of their valour, it
is, strangely enough, called the "Rebel's Cap," and forms the theme
of the bold and sacreligious action recorded of Robert Philipson.

As for "Robin" (who has also, though unjustly, been calumniated
and accused of having murdered the persons to whom the skulls at
Calgarth belonged, and who figures, it is said, in many other
desperate adventures), after the final defeat at Worcester had,
by depressing for a time the hopes of the royalists, in some
degree restored a sort of subdued quiet to the kingdom, finding a
pacific life irksome to his restless spirit, he passed over into
the sister country, and there fell in some nameless rencontre in
the Irish wars, sealing by a warrior's fate a course of long tried
and devoted attachment to his king; in his death, as in his life,
affording a memorable illustration of the fine sentiment embodied
in these proud lines--

"Master! lead on and I will follow thee
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty."

During the Protectorate of Cromwell, Briggs ruled in the
ascendancy; but on the accession of Charles the Second, he was
obliged for a long period to hide in the wilds of Furness.

Two hundred years have rolled away, since the generation that
saw those events has vanished from the earth, and every tangible
memorial of the island hero has been thought to have perished with
him. Nevertheless, time has spared one fragile, though little
noticed relic; for in the library of that most interesting of
our northern English fanes, the Parish Church of Cartmel, whose
age-stricken walls, so rich in examples of each style of Gothic
architecture, rise but a few miles from the foot of the lake, in
the centre of a vale of much beauty of a monastic character, there
is retained upon the shelves a small volume in Latin, entitled
"Vincentii Lirinensis hæres, Oxoniæ, 1631," on one of the blank
leaves of which is this inscription in MS., the signature to which
has been partly torn off:--

"For Mr Rob. Philipson.
Inveniam, spero, quamvis Peregrinus, amicos:
Mite peto tecum cominus hospitium. R----"

It is pleasing to dwell on this enduring testimony of regard for
a man, whose portrait, as limned on the historic canvas, has
hitherto been looked upon as that only of a bold unnurtured ruffler
in an age of strife. Seen under the effect of this touch by the
hand of friendship, a gentler grace illumes the air of one, whose
unwavering principles and firm temper well fitted him to encounter
the troubles of a stormy epoch, while, as long as the island itself
shall endure, his heroic shadow rising over its groves, will cast
the enthralling interest of a romantic episode upon a scene so
captivating by its natural loveliness.

That the individual so addressed, was our Robin of Satanic
notoriety, there cannot reasonably be a doubt, as the pedigree of
the Crook Hall Philipsons does not recognise any other member of
the family of that name, living between the time of the publication
of the book, and the death of their last male heir. Neither is the
genealogical tree of the Calgarth branch enriched with the name
between that and 1652, when Christopher Philipson (of the house of
Calgarth) who, amid the bitter struggle of parties, seems to have
been devoted to the cultivation of letters, and who is supposed
to have presented the book, along with others, to the library at
Cartmel, died. Therefore to the successful soldier, whose actions
gave to himself and his cause so chivalrous a colouring, alone,
must the inscription be applied, the evidence it affords furnishing
another illustration of the saying that "the Devil is not always
as black as he is painted." But whether it be questionable that
it was directed to the royalist Robin, or not, the probability is
sufficiently great to justify what has been said on the subject.

Recent research through public archives has ascertained that the
family of the Philipsons was established in Westmorland at least
as far back as the reign of Edward III., for in an inquisition
relative to the possessions of the chantry on Saint Mary's Holme,
taken in 1355, the name of John Philipson is recorded as tenant to
certain lands belonging to that religious foundation.

This family owned not only Calgarth Hall and extensive domains
which reached along the shores of Windermere, from Low Wood to
Rayrigg, consisting of beautiful woods and rich pastures, but also
Crook and Holling Halls, with much of the surrounding country, as
well as the large island in the centre of the lake, opposite to
Bowness, in documents of the 13th century especially designated
"Le Holme," but the earliest name of which was Wynandermere
Isle, afterwards changed to the "Long Holme," which latter word
signifies, in the old vernacular, "an island or plain by the
water side," and in which they had a mansion of the old fashioned
Westmorland kind, strongly fortified, called the Holme House.

Their alliances having connected them with many of the chief
families of the county, they fixed their principal dwelling places
at Holling, and at Crook or Thwatterden Halls; which latter abode
in the time of Queen Elizabeth again became the seat of a younger
branch of the house at Calgarth.

With Sir Christopher Philipson, the last heir male of the family
of Crook Hall, who, according to Mr. West, lived in the Holme in
1705, and who died in that year, the race was extinguished. Their
mouldered dust lies beneath the pavement in Windermere Church, and
their homes, for the most part but grey and naked ruins, know them
no more.

THE LAY OF LORD LUCY OF EGREMOND.

On that Mount surnamed "of Sorrow"
Glass'd in Enna's winding flood,
Looking forth through many a morrow
Both the warriors, Lucies, stood;
Stood beside the ramparts hoary,
Brothers, vow'd their brows to wreathe
In the Holy Land with glory,
Or its sands to rest beneath.

Quietly the vale was lying,
Farm and meadow, forge and mill,
As the day-star faintly dying
Paled above the eastern hill.
But beneath the cullis'd portal
Press'd the pent-up throng of war,
Eager for the strife immortal
With the Soldan's hosts afar.

Fame has all his soul's embraces--
Clasps Lord Lucy maid nor wife.
As the warriors' vizor'd faces
Turn towards the land of strife.
Through the gate beneath the towering
Pile they wind in shining mail.
Soon afar the fortress lowering
Sinks beneath them in the vale.

Scawfell saw them take the billow,
Man by man on Cumbria's shore;
Carmel's foot was first their pillow
When again to land they bore.
And in holy fight they bound them
To their Saviour's service true;
Fought and bled, through hosts around them,
Till their ranks were faint and few.

Then beneath the foe contending,
Faithful, fearless, but in vain,
Lo, the brothers bound and bending
Drag the hopeless captive's chain.
In the Moslem dungeon wasting,
England's bravest, both they lie;
No sweet hope nor solace tasting,
Only blank captivity.

Months have rolled; and moons are waning;
Then stood Lucy forth and said,--
"Emir, over millions reigning!
We are two in dungeon laid.
I, who bore a noble's banner,
I have halls and realms afar,
Wealth which many a lordly manor
Yields, beneath the western star.

"Let the Emir's heart be gracious!
Free my brother at my side;
And a ransom rich and precious
We will bring o'er ocean wide.
So we two, whose arms avail'd not
Here our freedom to sustain,
But whose constant courage fail'd not,
May be Freedom's sons again."

Greed for gain o'er wrath prevailing
Softened soon the tyrant's mind.
Homewards one is swiftly sailing;
Calmly one will wait behind.
For a twelve-months thus they parted.
Weary months, the year, went o'er.
But that brother, evil-hearted,
From the West return'd no more.

Then the Emir's soul no longer
Would its vengeance stern forego;
All his rage suppress'd the stronger,
Burn'd, and burst upon his foe.
And he bade his hair be knotted
Into cords around a beam,
There to chain him till he rotted,
Where no light of heaven could gleam.

And in hunger sore he wasted;
And his nails grew like a bird's;
Day's sweet blesséd airs untasted,
And no sound of human words!
Changed in soul, and form, and feature,
Ah! how changed from that fair mould.
In which heaven had stamped its creature
Man and warrior, mild as bold!

Yet one heart whose daily gladness
Once had been, from latticed bower
To look down on him in sadness
Walking forth at evening hour;
She, the Emir's fairest daughter,
Sees brave Lucy now no more,--
Till unresting love has brought her
Trembling to his dungeon's floor.

There, with one mute form attending,
Swift her arm the faulchion drew
Through his locks; the hatterel rending[22]
From him, as it cleaved them through.
And with words of woman-kindness
Whisper'd she--"To light and air,
Life and love, from dungeon blindness,
Are we come the brave to bear."

And for love of him she bore him
To a ship, wherein he rode
Seaward till the bright sky o'er him
Circled round his own abode.
Then his castle-horn he sounded,
Which none other's skill could sound,
Where the traitor sat, confounded,
With his bold retainers round.

But brave Lucy's soul forgave him
All that wrong so foully done;
Him who went not back to save him
With the ransom he had won.
Yea, and more: "From Duddon's borders
Far as Esk, and from the sea
To where Hard-knott's ancient warders
Sleep," he said, "I give to thee.

"Here once more by vale and mountain,
On these ramparts side by side,
Wells up from my heart a fountain
Wastes and dungeons have not dried."
And his stately halls he entered,
Borne mid cheers and warriors' clang;
While a thousand welcomes, centred
In one shout of triumph, rang.

High the feast and great the story
Then that fill'd his ancient halls.
Healths to Lucy's House and glory
Shook the banners on the walls.
And their deep foundations hail'd him
With such echoes as were born
When his own true breath avail'd him
On the faithful Castle-horn.

And 'twas joy again to wander
On his own fair fields, and chase
There the wild wolf, and bring under
The strong deer in deadly race.
And if sometimes more the forest
Won him, museful and alone;
'Twas when secret thoughts were sorest.
Turn'd upon the past and gone.

But that lone and lordly bosom
Sought no mate of high degree;
Wooed no fair and beauteous blossom
From a noble kindred tree,--
As might have beseem'd, to wear her
Throned within a warrior's breast;
Evermore to bloom, the sharer
Of its love, its life, its rest.

So in field, and hall, and tourney,
As he lived--upon a day,
Wearied with a toilsome journey,
Came a guest from far away;
Feebly at his gate and humbly
Asking, "Dwells Lord Lucy here?"
But all question parried dumbly,
Till the voice she sought was near.

Then indeed the sorrow-laden,
Travel-stricken form sunk down;
Slow the hatterel forth the maiden
Drew; he knew her! 'twas his own!
Knew her, as she stood before him
On that barren Syrian shore,
When from wrath and death she bore him
Where no wrong might touch him more.

Bear her in! he tells them of her,
Tells them all with eyeballs dim.
Cannot be but he must love her,
For she bears such love to him.
She has left her father's mansion,
Left her country, faith, and name,
Travell'd o'er the sea's expansion,
Him to find in life and fame.

Was there ever like devotion?--
Is he husband, father; she
Who has braved the boundless ocean
Will his serving maiden be.
No! she shall abide in honour,
One for ever at his side;
Every gift and grace upon her
That beseems a warrior's bride.

Then again his days were gladden'd
With more joys than e'er of yore.
And if thought at times was sadden'd
With the memories which it bore,
Clasping oft his wife with true love,
He would say with whispering breath--
"Love is life indeed! for through love
I am here, reprieved from death!"

And his soul's allegiance fail'd not
That fair consort, all his days.
And their blissful love--avail'd not
Chance or time to quench its rays.
Love unto his gate had brought her
O'er the seas from far beyond.
And with love the Emir's daughter
Ruled the halls of Egremond.

But that kinsman, far divided
From them by remorse and shame,
Round his courts in secret glided
Ghost-like--nevermore the same:
Conscience-torn, repentant, weary,
Burning, longing for the close
Of that pilgrimage so dreary.
Power had come, but not repose.

Shadows the rebuked and chastened,
Worn-out warrior lowly laid.
And from Bega's cloisters hastened
Thrice the prior with his aid:
Thrice: And ere the leaves had faded,
Brave Lord Lucy clasped his breast;[23]
Kiss'd him; and the convent shaded
One more spirit into rest.

NOTES TO "THE LAY OF LORD LUCY OF EGREMOND."

The name of Egremont seems to be derived from its ancient
possessors, the Normans, and being changed by a trifling corruption
of their language, carries the same meaning, and signifies the
Mount of Sorrow.

The charter of Richard de Lucy, granted to the burgesses in
the time of King John, declares it to be given and confirmed
"burgensibus meis de _Acrimonte_," &c.

William the Conqueror having established himself on the throne of
England, and added the county of Cumberland, which he wrested from
Malcolm, king of Scotland, to his northern possessions; he gave it,
together with the barony of Westmorland, to Randolph or Ranulph
du Briquesard, also surnamed le Meschin, Vicomte du Bessin, elder
brother of William le Meschin. This nobleman was allied to the
Conqueror by marriage with his niece, and was one of his numerous
train of military adventurers. He was the first Norman paramount
feudatory of Cumberland. When Ranulph granted out to his several
retainers their respective allotments; reserving to himself the
forest of Inglewood, he gave to his brother, William le Meschin,
the great barony of Copeland, bounded by the rivers Duddon and
Derwent, and the sea. The latter seated himself at Egremont and
there erected a castle; and in distinction of this his baronial
seat, he changed the name of the whole territory to that of the
barony of Egremont. After possessing this estate with great power
for several years, and dying without male issue, it devolved to
his daughter Alice, married to Robert de Romili, Lord of Skipton.
They having no male issue, these two great baronies descended
to their only daughter Alice, who married William Fitz-Duncan,
Earl of Murray, nephew to David, King of Scots. By this marriage
there was issue a son, who died in infancy, and three daughters
who divided the vast inheritance. To Amabil, the second daughter,
the barony of Egremont came in partition; and by her marriage with
Reginald Lucy, passed to that family. William Fitz-Duncan was Lord
of the adjoining Cumbrian seigniory or honor of Cockermouth, and
of the barony of Allerdale below Derwent, which large estates had
descended to him from his mother Octreda, who inherited them from
her grandfather Waldeof, first lord of Allerdale, to whom they
had been granted by Ranulph de Meschin. Waldeof was the son of
Gospatrick, Earl of Dunbar.

Particular mention is made of two only of the name of Lucy in
succession: Reginald de Lucy, who was governor of Nottingham for
the King, in the rebellion of the Earl of Leicester, and who also
attended the coronation of Richard I. among the other Barons; and
Richard de Lucy, his son, who, in the reign of King John, paid a
fine of three hundred marks for the livery of all his lands in
Coupland and Canteberge, _and to have the liberty of marrying
whom he pleased_, &c. He married Ada, one of the two daughters
and co-heiresses of Hugh de Morville; and obtained a grant from
King John, by which he claimed and held the whole property of his
father-in-law, without partition to the other daughter, Joane.
He died before or about the 15th year of King John, leaving two
daughters, between whom the estates were divided, and who both
married into the Multon family.

At that time, and long after, it was a part of the King's
prerogative to interfere in the marriages of his nobility.[24]

The subsequent acts of the widowed Ada de Lucy afford us a fine
illustration of the exercise of this prerogative on the part of
the sovereign in the matters of widows and heiresses. Ada paid
a fine of five hundred marks for livery of her inheritance; as
also for dowry of her late husband's lands; and that she might
not be compelled to marry again. She espoused, however, without
compulsion, and without the king's licence, Thomas de Multon; in
consequence of which, the Castle of Egremont, and her other lands,
were seized by the Crown. But upon paying a compensation, they were
restored, and she had livery of them again. Her second husband, on
his payment of one thousand marks to the crown, was made guardian
over the two daughters, and co-heiresses, of her first husband, de
Lucy: and as a necessary consequence, and, in fact, in accordance
with the permission implied by the arrangement, he married them to
his two sons by his first wife.

These two daughters and co-heiresses of Lucy having married the two
sons of Thomas de Multon, the elder carried with her the lordship
of Egremont; while the son of the younger assumed the surname
of his maternal family, and was ancestor of the barons Lucy of
Cockermouth. The infant daughter of Anthony, the third and last
baron Lucy, dying in the year following his own demise, the barony
was carried by the marriage of his sister Maude with the first Earl
of Northumberland to the Percy family: thence to the Seymours,
Dukes of Somerset; and through them to Wyndham, Earl of Egremont,
by whose descendant, the first Lord Leconfield, it is at present
enjoyed.

Egremont was anciently a borough, sending two members to
parliament; but was disfranchised on the petition of the burgesses,
to avoid the expense of representation. The burgesses possessed
several privileges, but all records of them are lost. The
ordinances of Richard de Lucy for the government of the borough
is a curious record, in which several singularities are to be
observed, which point out to us the customs of that distant age.
By this burgage tenure, the people of Egremont were obliged to
find armed men, for the defence of the Castle, forty days at their
own charge. The lord was entitled to forty days' credit for goods,
and no more; and his burgesses might refuse to supply him, till
the debt which had exceeded that date was paid. They were bound to
aids for the redemption of the lord and his heir from captivity;
for the knighthood of one of the lord's sons, and the marriage
of one of his daughters. They were to find him twelve men for
his military array. They were to hold watch and ward. They could
not enter the forest with bow and arrow. They were relieved from
cutting off the dogs' feet within the borough, as being a necessary
and customary defence: on the borders, the dogs appointed to be
kept for defence, were called _slough dogs_: this privilege points
out, that within the limits of forests, the inhabitants keeping
dogs for defence were to lop off one foot or more, to prevent their
chasing the game; which did not spoil them for the defence of a
dwelling. A singular privilege appears in the case of a burgess
committing fornication with the daughter of a rustic, one who was
not a burgess; that he should not be liable to the fine imposed in
other cases for that offence, unless he had seduced by promise of
marriage. The fine for seducing a woman belonging to the borough
was three shillings to the lord. By the rule for inspecting dyers,
weavers, and fullers, it seems those were the only trades at that
time within the borough under the character of craftsmen. The
burgesses who had ploughs were to till the lord's demesne one day
in the year, and every burgess to find a reaper: their labour was
from morning _ad nonam_, which was three o'clock, as from six to
three.

Egremont was probably a place of strength, and the seat of some
powerful chief, during the Heptarchy, and in the time of the
Danes. The ruins of the Castle, on the west of the town, stand on
an eminence, the northern extremity of which forms a lofty mound,
seventy-eight feet in perpendicular height above the ditch which
surrounds the fortress. On the crown of this hill, it is believed,
there formerly stood a Danish fortification. The mound is said to
be artificial. Tradition goes so far as to assert that it is formed
of soil brought by St. Bega from Ireland, as ballast for her ship.
The miraculous power of the Saint must have been largely exercised
to increase it to its present proportions. It still, however,
retains the virtue given to Irish earth by the blessing of St.
Patrick, and no reptile can live upon it.

This fortress is not of very great extent, but bears singular marks
of antiquity and strength. The approach and grand entrance from
the south, has been kept by a draw-bridge over a deep moat. The
entrance to the castle is by a gateway vaulted with semi-circular
arches, and guarded by a strong tower. The architecture of this
tower, which is the chief part of the fortress now standing, points
out its antiquity to be at least coeval with the entry of the
Normans. The outward wall has enclosed a considerable area of a
square form; but it is now gone so much to decay, that no probable
conjecture can be made as to the particular manner in which it
was fortified. On the side next the town a postern remains. To
the westward, from the area, there is an ascent to three narrow
gates, standing close together, and on a straight line, which have
communicated with the outworks: these are apparently of more modern
architecture, and have each been defended with a portcullis. Beyond
these gates is the lofty mount, which has already been referred to,
and on which anciently stood a circular tower, the western side
of which endured the rage of time till within the last century.
The whole fortification is surrounded by a moat, more properly
so called than a ditch, as it appears to have been walled on both
sides. This is strengthened with an outward rampart of earth, which
is five hundred paces in circumference. A small brook runs on the
eastern side of the Castle, and it may be presumed, anciently
filled the moat. The mode of building which appears in part of
the walls, is rather uncommon, the construction being of large
thin stones, placed in an inclined position, the courses lying in
different directions, so as to form a kind of feathered work, the
whole run together with lime and pebbles, impenetrably strong. It
seems to have been copied from the filling parts of the Roman wall.

An old tradition connects the lords of this Castle with the
Crusades. One version of it given in the histories of Cumberland,
for it is variously related, is to this effect:--"The Baron of
Egremont being taken prisoner beyond the seas by the infidels,
could not be redeemed without a great ransom, and being for
England, entered his brother or kinsman for his surety, promising
with all possible speed to send him money to set him free; but
upon his return home to Egremont, he changed his mind, and most
unnaturally and unthankfully suffered his brother to lie in prison,
in great distress and extremity, until the hair was grown to an
unusual length, like to a woman's hair. The Pagans being out of
hopes of the ransom, in great rage most cruelly hanged up their
pledge, binding the long hair of his head to a beam in the prison,
and tied his hands so behind him, that he could not reach to the
top where the knot was fastened to loose himself: during his
imprisonment, the Paynim's daughter became enamoured of him, and
sought all good means for his deliverance, but could not enlarge
him: she understanding of this last cruelty, by means made to his
keeper, entered the prison, and taking her knife to cut the hair,
being hastened, she cut the skin of his head, so as, with the
weight of his body, he rent away the rest, and fell down to the
earth half dead; but she presently took him up, causing surgeons to
attend him secretly, till he recovered his former health, beauty,
and strength, and so entreated her father for him that he set him
at liberty. Then, desirous to revenge his brother's ingratitude,
he got leave to depart to his country, and took home with him the
hatterell of his hair rent off as aforesaid, and a bugle-horn,
which he commonly used to carry about him, when he was in England,
where he shortly arrived, and coming to Egremont Castle about
noontide of the day, where his brother was at dinner, he blew
his bugle-horn, which (says the tradition) his brother the baron
presently acknowledged, and thereby conjectured his brother's
return; and then sending his friends and servants to learn his
brother's mind to him, and how he had escaped, they brought back
the report of all the miserable torment which he had endured
for his unfaithful brother the baron, which so astonished the
baron (half dead before with the shameful remembrance of his own
disloyalty and breach of promise) that he abandoned all company and
would not look on his brother, till his just wrath was pacified by
diligent entreaty of their friends. And to be sure of his brother's
future kindness, he gave the _lordship of Millum_ to him and his
heirs for ever. Whereupon the first Lords of Millum gave for their
arms _the horn and the hatterell_.

Others relate that it was the baron who remained as hostage: and
that on his release from captivity by the Paynim's daughter, and
after his departure to his native country, urged by her love
towards him, she found her way across the sea, and presenting
herself at his castle-gate, with the hatterell of his hair which
she had preserved as a token, was joyfully recognized by the Baron,
who made her his wife and the mistress of his halls.

It is, on various grounds, an anachronism to refer this tradition
to the period when the Lucies were Lords of Egremont. For,
according to Denton, the great seignory of Millom "in the time of
King Henry I. was given by William Meschines, Lord of Egremont,
to ... de Boyvill, father to Godard de Boyvill, named in ancient
evidences Godardus Dapifer." This accords with the tradition, which
is very old, and is given by both Denton and Sandford, and which
makes, as we have seen, the Boyvills to be very near of kin to the
Lords of Egremont. It also particularises the occasion upon which
Millom was transferred to that family; who took their surname from
the place, and were styled de-Millom.

That some members of the family were engaged in the crusades, we
learn from the record that Arthur Boyvill or de Millom, the third
lord, and the son of Godardus Dapifer, granted to the Abbey of St.
Mary in Furness the services of Kirksanton in Millom, which Robert
de Boyvill, his cousin-german, then held of him; and soon after he
mortgaged the same to the Abbot of Furness, until his return from
the Holy Land.

The crest of Huddleston of Hutton John is, Two arms, dexter and
sinister embowed, vested, argent, holding in their hands a scalp
proper, the inside gules. The tradition of the Horn of Egremont
Castle, which could only be sounded by the rightful lord, and
which forms the subject of a fine poem by Mr. Wordsworth, is
said properly to belong to Hutton-John, an ancient manor of the
Huddlestons, who were descended from the Boyvills in the female
line; Joan, the daughter and heiress of the last of the de-Milloms,
in the reign of Henry III., having married Sir John Hudleston, Kt.;
and thus transferred the seignory into that family, with whom it
continued for a period of about 500 years.

The name of Egremont will remind the poetical reader of the story
of the "Youthful Romili," celebrated by Wordsworth in his noble
ballad "The Founding of Bolton Priory," and by Rogers in his less
ambitious lines "The Boy of Egremond." It seems to be by no means
certain to which generation of William le Meschines' descendants
the tale belongs. Denton says, "Alice Romley, the third daughter
and co-heir of William Fitz-Duncan, was the fourth lady of
Allerdale: but having no children alive at her death, she gave
away divers manors and lands to houses of religion, and to her
friends and kinsmen. She had a son named William, who was drowned
in Craven coming home from hunting or hawking. His hound or spaniel
being tied to his girdle by a line, (as they crossed the water near
Barden Tower, in Craven) pulled his master from off his horse and
drowned him. When the report of his mischance came to his mother,
she answered, "_Bootless bayl brings endless sorrow_." She had also
three daughters, Alice, Avice, and Mavice, who all died unmarried,
and without children; wherefore the inheritance was after her death
parted between the house of Albemarl and Reginald Lucy, Baron of
Egremont, descending to her sister's children and their posterity."

This is Whitaker's statement:--"In the year 1121 William le
Meschines and Cecilia his wife founded a Priory for canons regular,
at Embsay, which was dedicated to St. Mary and St. Cuthbert, and
continued there about thirty-three years, when it is said by
tradition to have been translated to Bolton, on the following
account.

"The founders of Embsay were now dead, and had left a daughter,
who adopted her mother's name, Romillé, and was married to William
Fitz-Duncan. They had issue a son, commonly called the Boy of
Egremond (one of his grandfather's baronies, where he was probably
born), who, surviving an elder brother, became the last hope of the
family.

"In the deep solitude of the woods betwixt Bolton and Barden, the
Wharf suddenly contracts itself to a rocky channel little more
than four feet wide, and pours through the tremendous fissure with
a rapidity proportionate to its confinement. This place was then,
as it is yet, called the Strid, from a feat often exercised by
persons of more agility than prudence, who stride from brink to
brink, regardless of the destruction which awaits a faltering step.
Such, according to tradition, was the fate of young Romillé, who
inconsiderately bounding over the chasm with a greyhound in his
leash, the animal hung back, and drew his unfortunate master into
the torrent. The forester, who accompanied Romillé, and beheld
his fate, returned to the Lady Aäliza, and, with despair in his
countenance, enquired, 'What is good for a bootless Bene?' To which
the mother, apprehending that some great calamity had befallen her
son, instantly replied, 'Endless Sorrow.'

"The language of this question, almost unintelligible at present,
proves the antiquity of the story, which nearly amounts to proving
its truth. But 'bootless Bene' is unavailing prayer; and the
meaning, though imperfectly expressed, seems to have been, 'What
remains when prayer is useless?'"

The accuracy of this account, though admitted to be true so far as
the death of a scion of Romili's house, is however doubted by Dr.
Whitaker, who states that the son of the Lady Alice or Aäliza was a
party and witness to the charter of translation to Bolton in 1154
of the Canons of the Priory of Embsay, founded in 1121 by William
de Meschines and Cecilia de Romili his wife. Besides, as the Boy
of Egremond was alive in 1160, and a partaker in the rebellion of
the Pictish Celts of Scotland, of which the object was to set him
on the throne as the rightful heir, Dr. Whitaker is of opinion that
the story refers to one of the sons (both of whom died young) of
Cecilia le Meschines, grandmother of Lady Alice.

There is however an oversight of some importance in Whitaker's
statement. He altogether omits the second generation of the
descendants of William le Meschines. Alice, the daughter of W. le
Meschines, married Robert de Romili; Alice, her daughter, married
Fitz-Duncan, who assumed the name of his wife, and was William le
Romili. If their son was "the Boy of Egremond," he could not have
been a witness to the charter of translation in 1154. If he was
drowned in the Wharf, his death could not have been the occasion of
the refounding of the Priory at Bolton. If the son of Cecilia le
Meschines was "the Boy of Egremond"; as he might be so styled from
his father's barony; he may have been drowned at the Strid, but
his mother could not have been the second foundress of the Priory;
for, as Whitaker says, the founders of Embsay were already dead.
Tradition, moreover, clings to the name of the Lady Alice, as being
that of the pious dispenser of her goods to sacred and religious
uses. And however history may conflict with tradition, there will
remain, that the Lady of Skipton, Cockermouth, and the Allerdales,
bestowed her lands and goods most liberally upon the Abbeys of
Fountains and Pomfret, and other religious confraternities;
that she, the Lady Alice, seems always to have cherished those
dispositions whose spiritual convictions moved in unison with
the votive religious practices of the age; and although she, for
the health of her dear son's soul (if he it were who perished in
the Wharf) could not have founded near the scene of his untimely
fate, the Priory before mentioned; its legendary history, which
has so enshrined her affections and her sorrows, will continue to
connect in the future, as in the past, the image of the youthful
Romili with her griefs, and the stately Priory of Bolton with his
imperishable name.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] The scalp with the hair attached.

[23] In the early and middle ages kissing was the common form of salutation, and the _osculum pacis_ was a sign of reconciliation and charity. Examples will occur to every reader of Scripture and the classics.

[24] Dr. Whitaker. Vide notes to the "Bridals of Dacre," for instances.

SÖLVAR-HOW.

Up the valley of Brathay rode Dagmar the Dane.
There was gold on her bit, there was silk on her rein.
You might see her white steed in the distance afar,
On the green-breasted hill, shining out like a star;
Where beyond her on high in his barrow lay sleeping
Old Sölvar the chief; and the shade, that sat keeping
His fame, by his tomb sang the Norseland's wild strain.

As the white steed of Dagmar shone, breasting the hill;
To the mound where old Sölvar lies lonely and still,
In the red light of evening, arresting her gaze,
Flocked the meek mountain ewes and the steers up the ways,
With the firstlings and yearlings, from hill top and hollow,
Gathering far, the sweet voice of the Phantom to follow--
To them sweeter than murmur of fountain and rill.

There was joy in their looks, in their eyes the clear light
Glistened searchingly forth on that mystical sight.
And from far, too, the white steed of Dagmar the Dane
Pricked his ears, stepping proudly, unheeding the rein;
And aside to the summit turned joyfully pacing;
While the steers and the ewes listened wistfully gazing,
And the Phantom sat singing of Sölvar the Bright.

O'er the pools of the Brathay, from Skelwith's lone tower
The sire of the princess looked forth in that hour.
He beheld the white steed of his child, like a star
On the green-breasted hill, and he cried from afar--
"She has heard his wild strains on the hill-top awaken,
And I from this hour am alone and forsaken.
--Not her voice nor her foot-fall, to come to me more!"

For to Dagmar the fair, when the flocks of the field
And the herds were in motion their homage to yield
To the bright Norseland Boy--with the fire and the grace
Of his sires in his limbs and their pride in his face--
In the garb of his country, rehearsing the story
Of chiefs and of kings and the Norseland's old glory--
Was the Phantom in all his bright beauty revealed.

There entranced in that vision, enchained by his tongue,
As the strains through his harp-strings melodiously rung,
Sat the maid on White Svend mid the yearlings; till now
Far departing he turns from the hill's sunny brow;
And the ewes at his feet awhile falteringly follow,
Then range back bewildered to hill-top and hollow;
While the Maid on his fast-fading accents still hung.

Through the still light receding his loose tresses streamed;
But to fly with him still was the dream she had dreamed;
Side by side o'er the hills, through the valleys, and on
To the Norseland to hear his wild songs all alone;
And to chase from his lips every accent of sorrow,
As they walked through the dawn of a brighter to-morrow
Into sunlight that heaven upon earth never beamed.

Springing down from White Svend, swiftly Dagmar the Dane
Cast aside on his neck the rich silk-tassel'd rein;
With her eyes fixed afar o'er the green mountain sward,
Whence the bright Norseland Boy cast a backward regard.
Call aloud from thy Tower, call aloud and implore her,
Hapless sire! to return, ere the night gathers o'er her!
She can hear but the voice of the Phantom's sweet strain.

Light and fleet was her foot over hollow and hill;
Till they reached the rude cleft of the deep-roaring Ghyll.
On the black dungeon's brink not a moment he stay'd;
O'er the black roaring Ghyll glided softly the Shade.
Like a thin wreath of mist she descried him far over--
And her cry pierced the night-boding hill tops above her;
When down the loose rocks plunged, and bridged the dark Ghyll.

Heard the eagle that shriek from his eyrie on high?
Struck his wings the poised rocks as he rushed to the sky?
Did the wild goat leap, startled, and press from their hold
With his hoof the loose crags?--that they bounded and roll'd
Far above, down, and on, soughing, plunging, and clashing,
Till they reached the dark Ghyll, and fell, wedging and crashing,
In the gulf's horrid jaws, there for ever to lie.

The fleet foot of Dagmar sprang light to the stone,
Where it bridged the dread gulf, in the twilight, alone.
For one moment she stood with her eyes straining o'er
Into space, for the bright one that answered no more.
He was gone from the hand she stretched, vainly imploring;
He was gone from the heart that beat, madly adoring:
And a voice from the waters cried wailingly--"Gone."

Roar thou on, Dungeon-Ghyll! there was mourning in vain
In the fortress of Skelwith for Dagmar the Dane.
From their tower on the cliff they looked, tearful and pale,
On her riderless steed as it came down the vale.
In her bower and in hall there was wailing and sorrow.
And the hills shone renewed with each glorious to-morrow.
But their bright star, their Dagmar, they knew not again.

NOTES TO "SÖLVAR HOW."

While many Celtic names of places remain to attest the prolonged
sovereignty of the Britons in Cumbria, by far the greater number
refer to a period when the enterprising Northmen, coming from
various shores, but all included under the comprehensive title
of Danes, had pushed their conquests into the mountain country
of Cumberland and Westmorland and those portions of the north of
Lancashire, which are comprised within the district of the English
Lakes. This territory had become the exclusive possession of the
Norwegian settlers. Every height and how, every lake and tarn,
every swamp and fountain, every ravine and ghyll, every important
habitation on the mountain side, the dwelling place amidst the
cleared land in the forest, the narrow dell, the open valley,
every one is associated with some fine old name that belonged to
our Scandinavian forefathers. Silver How is the hill of Sölvar,
and Butter-lip-how, the mound of Buthar, surnamed Lepr the Nimble;
Windermere and Buttermere, and Elter-water are the meres and water
called after the ancient Norsemen, Windar, and Buthar or Butar,
and Eldir, Gunnerskeld, and Ironkeld, and Butter-eld-keld, are
the spring or marsh of Gunnar, and Hiarn, and Buthar the Old, or
Elder. Bekangs-Ghyll, and Staingill, and Thortillgill, indicate the
ravines or fissures, which were probably at one time the boundaries
respectively of the lands of Bekan, and Steini, and Thortil;
Seatallau and Seatoller were once the dwelling places whence Elli
and Oller looked on the plains below them; and in Ormthwaile, and
Branthwaite, and Gillerthwaite we recognise the lands cleared amid
the forests with the axe, whose several possessors were Ormr, and
Biorn, and Geller; while Borrodale, and Ennerdale, and Riggindale,
and Bordale recall the days when these remote valleys were subject
to the lordly strangers Borrhy, and Einar, and Regin, and Bor. All
these names are Scandinavian proper names, and are to be found in
the language of that ancient race, of whose sojourn amongst our
hills so many traces remain in the nomenclature of the district.

Coming from the wildest and poorest part of the Norwegian coast,
and mixing with the Celtic tribes of these regions, in the early
ages; those hardy sons of the sea made extensive and permanent
settlements among them. They penetrated into the remotest recesses
of the mountains, carrying thither their wild belief in the old
northern gods, and their rude ideas of a future life. Their warlike
recollections, and their attachment to the scenes of their valorous
exploits, fostered the notion which was not uncommon among them,
that the spirits of chieftains could sometimes leave the halls
of Valhalla, and, seated each on his own sepulchral hill, could
look around him on the peaceful land over which in life he had
held rule, or on that beloved sea which had borne him so often to
war and conquest. It was this thought that induced them to select
for their burial places high mountains, or elevated spots in the
valleys and plains. As a natural result of their long continued
dominion in the North of England, they came to be classed in the
imagination of the people with invisible and mystic beings which
haunted that district. The shadows of the remote old hills were
the abodes of enchantment and superstition. And the spirits of the
departed were supposed to be seen visiting the earth, sometimes in
the guise of a Celtic warrior careering on the wind, and sometimes
in the form of one of the old northern chieftains sitting solitary
upon his barrow. It is related of one being permitted to do so for
the purpose of comforting his disconsolate widow, and telling her
how much her sorrow disquieted him. Hence also the dwellers among
the hills, it is said, still fancy they hear on the evening breeze
musical tones as of harp strings played upon, and melancholy lays
in a foreign tongue; a beautiful concert, to which we owe the
exquisite medieval legend of the cattle, in thraldom to the potent
spirit of harmony that rings through the air, often when no musical
sound is audible to the organ of man, pricking up their ears in
astonishment, as they listen to the Danish or Norseland Boy, sadly
singing the old bardic lays over the barrows of his once mighty
forefathers.

It has been conjectured that the colonization of this district by
the Northmen was effected at two distinct periods, by two separate
streams of emigration, issuing from two different parts of the
Scandinavian shore. The first recorded invasion of Cumberland by
the Danes appears to have taken place about the year 875; when an
army under the command of Halfdene, having entered Northumberland
and made permanent settlements there, commenced a series of
incursions into the adjacent countries lying on the north and
west, and thereby reached the borders of the lake region, first
plundering them and finally settling there. The indications of
the presence of the northern adventurers in that quarter are
found to be more purely of a Danish character than those which
abound beyond the eastern line of the district, and which may with
great probability be referred to a colonization more particularly
Norwegian.