Chapter II: Part 2

"Coming from afar to cheer us,
Could we always keep him near us,
All these heavenly skies from far,
All this blessed morn discovers,
All this Spring that round us hovers,
Would be still what now they are!

"Let us all go forth and labour,
Sire, and son, and wife, and neighbour,
First the bread, the life, to win:
Then by yonder stream we'll rally,
Build a wall across the valley,
And we'll close the Cuckoo in.

"So this Spring time, never failing,
While it hears his music hailing
From the wood and by the rill.
Shall, its new born life retaining,
Till our mortal hours are waning,
Warm and light and cheer us still."--

Flush'd the morn; and all were ready.
Sowers sowed with paces steady;
Plough'd the ploughers in the field;
Delved the gardeners; planters planted;
Then to their great work, undaunted
Forth they fared their wall to build.

Stone by stone, the wall beside them
Rose. Their Pastor came to guide them,
Day by day, and spake to cheer;
While each labouring hand the others
Helped, and one and all like brothers
Wrought along the ripening year.

Then they gathered in their houses,
Men and maidens, sires and spouses,
Talking of their wall. And when
Soon the long bright day returning
Called them, every heart was yearning
To resume its task again.

And on every eve they parted
At their thresholds, kindlier-hearted,
Looking forth again to meet.
All had something good or gladdening
On their lips; the only saddening
Sounds were those of parting feet.

So their wall, extending ever,
Spann'd at length the vale and river;
Grasp'd the mountains there and here:
Reached towards the blue of heaven;
Touched the light cloud o'er it driven;
And the end at length was near.

June had come; and all was vernal:
Seemed secure their Spring eternal:
Eyes were bright, and skies were blue:
When--at Nature's call--unguided--
Out the voice above them glided,
"Cuckoo!"--far away, "Cuckoo!"

"Gone!" a hundred tongues in chorus
Shouted; "Gone! the bird that bore us
Spring with all things bright and good!"
While, in stupor and amazement,
Vacantly from cope to basement
Glowering at their wall, they stood.--

But though all forgot, while building
Up their wall, that months were yielding
Each in turn to others' sway,
With their leaves and landscapes changing;
And, to skies more constant ranging,
Fled the Cuckoo far away!

Winter from their hearts had perished;
Spring in every heart was cherished;
Every charm of life and love--
Love for wife and home and neighbour--
Sprang from out that genial labour;
Peace around, and Heaven above.

Faith into their lives had entered;
Joy and fellowship were centred
Wheresoe'er a hearth was found.
While the calm bright hope before them
Temper'd even the rains, and o'er them
Charmed to rest the tempests' sound.

NOTES TO "THE CUCKOO IN BORRODALE."

If the traditions of the past, and the estimate formed of them by
their distant neighbours, bear rather hardly upon the people of
Borrodale, it must be remembered that the relations of that dale to
the world without were very different a hundred years ago from what
they are now. It was a recess, approached by a long and winding
valley, from the vale of Keswick, with the lake extending between
its entrance and the town. The highest mountains of the district
closed round its head. Its entrance was guarded by a woody hill,
on which had formerly stood a Roman fortress, afterwards occupied
by the Saxons, and which in later times was maintained in its
military capacity by the monks of Furness. For here one of their
principal magazines was established, and the holy fathers had great
possessions to defend from the frequent irruptions of the Scots
in those days. Besides their tithe corn, they amassed here the
valuable minerals of the country; among which salt, produced from a
spring in the valley, was no inconsiderable article.

In this deep retreat the inhabitants of the villages of Rosthwaite
and Seathwaite, having at all times little intercourse with the
country, during half the year were almost totally excluded from all
human commerce. The surrounding hills attract the vapours, and rain
falls abundantly; snow lies long in the valleys; and the clouds
frequently obscure the sky. Upon the latter village, in the depth
of winter, the sun never shines. As the spring advances, his rays
begin to shoot over the southern mountains; and at high noon to
tip the chimney tops with their light. That radiant sign shows the
cheerless winter to be now over; and rouses the hardy peasants to
the labours of the coming year. Their scanty patches of arable land
they cultivated with difficulty; and their crops late in ripening,
and often a prey to autumnal rains, which are violent in this
country, just gave them bread to eat. Their herds afforded them
milk; and their flocks supplied them with clothes: the shepherd
himself being often the manufacturer also. No dye was necessary to
tinge their wool: it was naturally a russet brown; and sheep and
shepherds were clothed alike, both in the simple livery of nature.
The procuring of fuel was among their greatest hardships. Here the
inhabitants were obliged to get on the tops of the mountains; which
abounding with mossy grounds, seldom found in the valleys below,
supplied them with peat. This, made into bundles, and fastened upon
sledges, they guided down the precipitous sides of the mountains,
and stored in their outbuildings. At the period to which we refer,
a hundred years ago, the roads were of the rudest construction,
scarcely passable even for horses. A cart or any kind of wheeled
carriage was totally unknown in Borrodale. They carried their hay
home upon their horses, in bundles, one on each side: they made no
stacks. Their manure they carried in the same manner, as also the
smaller wood for firing: the larger logs they trailed. Their food
in summer consisted of fish and small mutton; in winter, of bacon
and hung mutton. Nor was their method of drying their mutton less
rude: they hung the sheep up by the hinder legs, and took away only
the head and entrails. In this situation, I myself, says Clarke,
have seen seven sheep hanging in one chimney.

The inhabitants of Borrodale were a proverb, even among their
unpolished neighbours, for ignorance; and a thousand absurd
and improbable stories are related of their stupidity; such as
mistaking a red-deer, seen upon one of their mountains, for a
horned horse; at the sight of which they assembled in considerable
numbers, and provided themselves with ropes, thinking to take him
by the same means as they did their horses when wild in the field,
by running them into a strait, and then tripping them up with a
cord. A chase of several hours proved fruitless; when they returned
thoroughly convinced they had been chasing a witch. Such like is
the story of the mule, which, being ridden into the dale by a
stranger bound for the mountains, was left in the care of his host
at the foot of a pass. The neighbours assembled to see the curious
animal, and consulted the wise man of the dale as to what it could
be. With his book, and his thoughts in serious deliberation, he was
enabled to announce authoritatively that the brute was a peacock!
So when a new light broke into Borrodale, and lime was first sent
for from beyond Keswick; the carrier was an old dalesman with horse
and sacks. Rain falling, it began to smoke: some water from the
river was procured by him to extinguish the unnatural fire; but the
evil was increased, and the smoke grew worse. Assured at length
that he had got the devil in his sacks, as he must be in any fire
which was aggravated by water, he tossed the whole load over into
the river. The tale of the stirrups is perhaps a little too absurd
even for Borrodale. A "'statesman" brought home from a distant fair
or sale, what had never before been seen in the dale, a pair of
stirrups. Riding home in them, when he reached his own door, his
feet had become so fastened in them, that they could not be got
out; so as there was no help for it, he patiently sat his horse
in the pasture for a day or two, his family bringing him food,
then it was proposed to bring them both into the stable, which
was done; his family bringing him food as before. At length it
occurred to some one that he might be lifted with the saddle from
the horse, and carried thereupon into the house. There the mounted
man sat spinning wool in a corner of the kitchen, till the return
of one of his sons from St. Bees school, whose learning, after
due consideration of the case, suggested that the good man should
draw his feet out of his shoes: when to the joy of his family he
was restored to his occupation and to liberty. But the story of
the Cuckoo has made its local name the "Gowk" synonymous with an
inhabitant of the vale. There the Spring was very charming, and the
voice of the bird rare and gladsome. It occurred to the natives
that a wall built across the entrance of their valley, at Grange,
if made high enough, would keep the cuckoo among them, and make
the cheerful Spring-days last for ever. The plan was tried, and
failed only because, according to popular belief from generation to
generation, the wall was not built one course higher.

The wetness of the weather in Borrodale is something more than
an occasional inconvenience. It may be judged of by observations
which show the following results. The average quantity of rain
in many parts of the south of England does not exceed 20 inches,
and sometimes does not even reach that amount. The mean rain fall
for England is 30 inches. Kendal and Keswick have been considered
the wettest places known in England; and the annual average at
the former place is 52 inches. It was found by experiments made
in 1852, that while 81 inches were measured on Scawfell Pike; 86
at Great Gable; 124 at Sty Head; 156 were measured at Seathwaite
in Borrodale; shewing, with the exception of that at Sprinkling
Tarn, between Scawfell, and Langdale Pikes, and Great Gable, where
it measured 168 inches nearly, the greatest rainfall in the Lake
District to be at the head of Borrodale. Taking a period of ten
years, the average annual rainfall at Seathwaite in that dale was
over 126 inches; for the rest of England it was 29 inches.

KING EVELING.

King Eveling stood by the Azure River,
When the tide-wave landward began to flow;
And over the sea in the sunlight's shiver,
He watch'd one white sail northward go.

"Twice has it pass'd; and I linger, weary:
How I long for its coming, my life to close!
My lands forget me, my halls are dreary,
And my age is lonely; I want repose.

"If rightly I read the signs within me,
The tides may lessen, the moon may wane,
And then the Powers I have serv'd will win me
A pathway over yon shining plain.

"It befits a King, who has wisely spoken,
Whose rule was just, and whose deeds were brave,
To depart alone, and to leave no token
On earth but of glory--not even a grave.

"And now I am going. No more to know me,
My banners fall round me with age outworn.
I have buried my crown in the sands below me;
And I vanish, a King, into night forlorn.

"What of mine is good will endure for ever,
Growing into the ages on earth to be,
When--Eveling dwelt by the Azure River,
A King--shall be all that is told of me."

For days the tides with ebbing and flowing
Grew full with the moon; and out of the dim,
On the ocean's verge came the white sail growing,
And anchor'd below on the shoreward rim.

His people slept. For to them descended,
In that good time of the King, their rest,
While the lengthening shades of the eve yet blended
With the golden sunbeams low in the west.

No banded host on his footsteps waited,
No child nor vassal from bower or hall:
He look'd around him like one belated
On a lonely wild; and he went from all.

Slowly he strode to the ship; and for ever
Sailed out from the land he had ruled so well;
And the name of the King by the Azure River
Is all that is left for the bards to tell.

NOTES TO "KING EVELING."

The ancient, but now insignificant town and seaport of Ravenglass,
six miles from Bootle and about sixteen from Whitehaven, is
situated on a small creek, at the confluence of the rivers Esk,
Mite, and Irt, which form a large sandy harbour. Of this place the
Editor of Camden, Bishop Gibson, says--"The shore, wheeling to the
north, comes to Ravenglass, a harbour for ships, and commodiously
surrounded with two rivers; where, as I am told, there have been
found Roman inscriptions. Some will have it to have been formerly
called Aven-glass, i.e. (Coeruleus) an azure sky-coloured river;
and tell you abundance of stories about King Eveling, who had his
palace here."

Ravenglass appears from Mr. Sandford's M.S. to have been of old
of some importance as a fishing town. He says--"Here were some
salmons and all sorts of fish in plenty; but the greatest plenty of
herrings, (it) is a daintye fish of a foot long; and so plenteous
a fishing thereof and in the sea betwixt and the ile of man, as
they lie in sholes together so thike in the sea at spawning, about
August, _as a ship cannot pass thorow_: and the fishers go from all
the coast to catch them."

There was also formerly a considerable pearl-fishery at this place:
and Camden speaks of the shell-fish in the Irt producing pearls.
Sir John Hawkins obtained from government the right of fishing for
pearls in that river. The pearls were obtained from mussels, by the
inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who sought for them at low water,
and afterwards sold them to the jewellers. About the year 1695, a
patent was granted to some gentlemen, for pearl-fishing in the Irt;
but how the undertaking prospered is uncertain. The pearl-mussels
do not appear to have been very plentiful for many years. Nicolson
and Burn observe, that Mr. Thomas Patrickson, of How in this
County, is said to have obtained as many from divers poor people,
whom he employed to gather them, as he afterwards sold in London
for £800.

Tacitus in the "Agricola" describes the pearls found in Britain
as being of a dark and livid hue. Pliny also:--"In Britain some
pearls do grow, but they are small and dim, not clear and bright."
And again:--"Julius Cæsar did not deny, that the breast-plate
which he dedicated to Venus Genitrix, within the temple, was made
of British pearls." So that it is not at all improbable that our
little northern stream even may have contributed in some degree to
the splendour of the imperial offering.

The manor in which Ravenglass is included is dependent on the
barony of Egremont; and King John granted to Richard Lucy, as
lord paramount, a yearly fair to be held here on St. James's day,
and a weekly market every Saturday; and at the present time the
successor to the Earls of Egremont, Lord Leconfield, holds the
fair of Ravenglass, on the eve, day, and morrow of St. James.
Hutchinson thus describes it:--"There are singular circumstances
and ceremonies attending the proclamation of this fair, as being
anciently held under the maintenance and protection of the Castle
of Egremont. On the first day, the lord's steward is attended by
the sargeant of the Borough of Egremont, with the insignia (called
the bow of Egremont), the foresters, with their bows and horns,
and all the tenants of the forest of Copeland, whose special
service is to attend the lord and his representative at Ravenglass
fair, and abide there during its continuance; anciently, for the
protection of a free-trade, and to defend the merchandise against
free-booters, and a foreign enemy: such was the wretched state of
this country in former times, that all such protection was scarce
sufficient. For the maintenance of the horses of those who attend
the ceremony, they have by custom, a portion of land assigned in
the meadow, called, or distinguished, by the name of two Swaiths
of grass in the common field of Ravenglass. On the third day at
noon, the earl's officers, and tenants of the forest depart, after
proclamation; and Lord Muncaster (as mesne lord) and his tenants
take a formal repossession of the place; and the day is concluded
with horse races and rural diversions."

A genuine specimen of feudal observances is preserved in the
custom of riding the boundaries of manors, which, in the mountain
district, where the line of division is not very distinct,
is performed perhaps once during each generation, by the
representatives of the lord of the manor, accompanied by an immense
straggling procession of all ages,--the old men being made useful
in pointing out important or disputed portions of the boundary,
and the young in having it impressed on their memories, so that
their evidence or recollection may be made available in future
peregrinations. In older times, when the interests of the lords
outweighed farther than in our own day the rights of the peasantry,
certain youthful members of the retinue, in order to deepen the
impression and make it more enduring, were severely whipped at all
those points which the stewards were most anxious to have held in
remembrance. The occasions always wind up with a banquet, provided
on a most liberal scale by the lord of the manor, and open to all
who take part in the business of the day.

Another local usage connected with the landed interest, and long
observed with notable regularity, was the following. When salmon
was plentiful in the Cumberland rivers, and formed a very important
element in the ordinary living of the occupants of adjoining lands,
the tenants of the manor of Ennerdale and Kinniside claimed "a
free stream" in the river Ehen, from Ennerdale lake to the sea,
and assembled once a year to "ride the stream." If obstructions
were found, such as weirs and dams, they were at once destroyed.
Refreshments were levied or provided at certain places on the river
for the cavalcade. This custom has long ceased to be observed.

About a quarter of a mile to the south east of this place is
an old ivy-mantled ruin, designated Wall Castle. It is said to
have been the original residence of the Penningtons, but in all
probability it dates from a much remoter period. Stone battle-axes
and arrow-heads have been found around it, and coins of different
people, principally Roman and Saxon. The building is strongly
cemented with run lime.

This old castle stands at no great distance from the second cutting
through which the railroad passes after leaving Ravenglass:
adjoining to which, a little below the surface of the ground, an
ancient fosse and several foundations of walls have been laid
bare by the owner of the estate, and large quantities of building
stone removed from them at various times. In making this cutting,
the workmen laid open an ancient burial place, which was of great
depth, and contained a quantity of human remains, with several
bones of animals. The sides were secured by strong timber and
stone work. The buried bodies were very numerous, and the place
was evidently of very great antiquity. From the presence of oak
leaves and acorns, charred wood, etc., it has been supposed to have
been the tomb of the victims in some Druidical sacrifice: it being
known that the Druids immolated their criminals, by placing them
collectively in the interior of a large image of wickerwork, and
then setting fire to it; and that various animals were sacrificed
along with them by way of expiation.

About five miles to the east of Ravenglass is the small lake
of Devoke Water, near the foot of which, on the summit of a
considerable hill, stand the ruins of another interesting piece of
antiquity, the so-called city of Barnscar or Bardscar. Its site is
so elevated, as to command a wide extent of country, and an ancient
road from Ulpha to Ravenglass passes through it. The name is purely
Scandinavian, and tradition ascribes it to the Danes. A well known
popular saying in the locality refers to the manner in which this
city is said to have been peopled by its founders, who gathered
for inhabitants the men of Drigg and the women of Beckermet. The
original helpmates of the latter place are supposed to have fallen
in battle: what had become of the wives and daughters of the former
place is not averred. But the saying continues--"Let us gang
togidder like t' lads o' Drigg, an' t' lasses o' Beckermet."

The description of this place given by Hutchinson at the latter
end of last century is as follows:--"This place is about 300 yards
long, from east to west; and 100 yards broad, from north to south;
now walled round, save at the east end, near three feet in height;
there appears to have been a long street, with several cross
ones: the remains of housesteads, within the walls, are not very
numerous, but on the outside of the walls they are innumerable,
especially on the south side and west end; the circumference of the
city and suburbs is near three computed miles; the figure an oblong
square." It is added that about the year 1730, a considerable
quantity of silver coin was found in the ruins of one of the
houses, concealed in a cavity, formed in a beam; none of which
unfortunately has been preserved, to throw light upon the name, the
race, or character and habits of its possessors.

From the Pow to the Duddon innumerable objects of interest lie
scattered between the mountains and the sea coast, of which
little more can be said than was stated, as above, by Camden's
editor--"Some tell you abundance of stories about them"--as well as
"about King Eveling, who had his palace here."

SIR LANCELOT THRELKELD.

The widows were sitting in Threlkeld Hall;
The corn stood green on Midsummer-day;
Their little grand-children were tossing the ball;
And the farmers leaned over the garden wall;
And the widows were spinning the eve away.

They busily talk'd of the days long gone,
While the corn stood green on Midsummer-day;
How old Sir Lancelot's armour had shone
On the panels of oak by the broad hearthstone,
Where the widows sat spinning that eve away.

For, Threlkeld Hall of his mansions three--
Where the corn stood green on Midsummer-day--
Was his noblest house; and a stately tree
Was the good old Knight, and of high degree;
And a braver rode never in battle array.

Now peaceful farmers think of their corn--
The corn so green on Midsummer-day--
Where once, at the blast of Sir Lancelot's horn,
His horsemen all mustered, his banner was borne;
And he went like a Chief in his pride to the fray.

And there the good Clifford, the Shepherd-Lord,
When the corn stood green on Midsummer-day,
Sat, humbly clad, at Sir Lancelot's board;
And tended the flocks, while rusted his sword
In the hall where the widows were spinning away;

Till the new King called him back to his own--
When the corn stood green on Midsummer-day--
To his honours and name of high renown;
When Sir Lancelot old and feeble had grown;
From his rude shepherd-life called Lord Clifford away.

And sad was that morrow in Threlkeld Hall--
And the corn was green on that Midsummer-day--
When the Clifford stood ready to part from all;
And his shepherd's staff was hung up on the wall,
In that room where the widows sat spinning away.

And Sir Lancelot mounted, and called his men--
While the corn stood green on Midsummer-day--
And he gazed on Lord Clifford again and again;
And Sir Lancelot rode with him over the plain;
And at length with strong effort his silence gave way.

"I am old," Sir Lancelot said; "and I know--
When the corn stands green on Midsummer-day--
There will wars arise, and I shall be low,
Who ever was ready to arm and go!"--
For he loved the war tramp and the martial array.

"If ever a Knight might revisit this earth--
While the corn stands green on Midsummer-day"--
Said the Clifford--"When troubles and wars have birth,
Thou never shalt fail from Threlkeld's hearth!"
From that hearth where the widows were spinning away.

And so, along Souther Fell-side they press'd--
While the corn stood green on Midsummer-day,--
And then they parted--to east and to west--
And Sir Lancelot came and was laid to his rest.
Said the widows there spinning the eve away.

And the Shepherd had power in unwritten lore:
The corn stands green on Midsummer-day:
And although the Knight's coffin his banner hangs o'er,
Sir Lancelot yet can tread this floor;
Said the widows there spinning the eve away.--

Thus gossip'd the widows in Threlkeld Hall,
While the corn stood green on Midsummer-day:
When the sound of a footstep was heard to fall,
And an arm'd shadow pass'd over the wall--
Of a Knight with his plume and in martial array.

With a growl the fierce dogs slunk behind the huge chair,
While the corn stood green on that Midsummer-day;
And the widows stopt spinning; and each was aware
Of a tread to the porch, and Sir Lancelot there--
And a stir as of horsemen all riding away.

They turned their dim eyes to the lattice to gaze--
While the corn stood green on Midsummer-day--
But before their old limbs they could feebly raise,
The horsemen and horses were far on the ways--
From the Hall, where the widows were spinning away.

And far along Souter Fell-side they strode,
While the corn stood green on that Midsummer-day.
And the brave old Knight on his charger rode,
As he wont to ride from his old abode,
With his sword by his side and in martial array.

Like a chief he galloped before and behind--
While the corn stood green on Midsummer-day--
To the marshalled ranks he waved, and signed;
And his banner streamed out on the evening wind,
As they rode along Souter Fell-side away.

And to many an eye was revealed the sight,
While the corn stood green that Midsummer-day;
As Sir Lancelot Threlkeld the ancient Knight
With all his horsemen went over the height:
O'er the steep mountain summit went riding away.

And then as the twilight closed over the dell--
Where the corn stood green that Midsummer-day--
Came the farmers and peasants all flocking to tell
How Sir Lancelot's troop had gone over the fell!
And the widows sat listening, and spinning away.

And the widows looked mournfully round the old hall;
And the corn stood green on Midsummer-day;
"He is come at the good Lord Clifford's call!
He is up for the King, with his warriors all!"--
Said the widows there spinning the eve away.

"There is evil to happen, and war is at hand--
Where the corn stands green this Midsummer-day--
Or rebels are plotting to waste the land;
Or he never would come with his armed band"--
Said the widows there spinning the eve away.

"Our old men sleep in the grave. They cease:
While the corn stands green on Midsummer-day--
They rest, though troubles on earth increase;
And soon may Sir Lancelot's soul have peace!"
Sighed the widows while spinning the eve away.

"But this was the Promise the Shepherd-Lord--
When the corn stood green that Midsummer-day--
Gave, parting from Threlkeld's hearth and board,
To the brave old Knight--and he keeps his word!"
Said the widows all putting their spinning away.

NOTES TO "SIR LANCELOT THRELKELD."

The little village of Threlkeld is situated at the foot of
Blencathra about four miles from Keswick, on the highroad from
that town to Penrith. The old hall has long been in a state of
dilapidation, the only habitable part having been for years
converted into a farm house. Some faint traces of the moat are
said to be yet discernible. This was one of the residences of Sir
Lancelot Threlkeld, a powerful knight in the reign of Henry the
Seventh, step-father to the Shepherd Lord. His son, the last Sir
Lancelot, was wont to say that he had "three noble houses--one for
pleasure, Crosby in Westmorland, where he had a park full of deer;
one for profit and warmth, wherein to reside during winter, namely,
Yanwath, near Penrith; and the third, Threlkeld, on the edge of
the vale of Keswick, well stocked with tenants to go with him to
the wars." Sir Lancelot is said to have been a man of a kind and
generous disposition, who had either taken the side of the White
Rose in the great national quarrel, or at least had not compromised
himself to a ruinous extent on the other side; and has long had
the reputation of having afforded a retreat to the Shepherd Lord
Clifford, on the utter ruin of his house, after the crushing of the
Red Rose at Towton, when the Baron (his late father) was attained
in parliament, and all his lands were seized by the crown.

The Cliffords, Lords of Westmorland, afterwards Earls of
Cumberland, were a family of great power and princely possessions,
who for many generations occupied a position in the North West
of England, similar to that held by the Percies, Earls of
Northumberland, in the north-east.

Their blood was perhaps the most illustrious in the land. Descended
from Rollo first Duke of Normandy, by alliances in marriage it
intermingled with that of William the Lion, King of Scotland, and
with that of several of the Sovereigns of England.

Their territorial possessions corresponded with their illustrious
birth. These comprised their most ancient stronghold, Clifford
Castle, on the Wye, in Herefordshire; the lordship of the barony of
Westmorland, including the seigniories and Castles of Brougham and
Appleby; Skipton Castle in the West Riding of Yorkshire, with its
numerous townships, and important forest and manorial rights, their
most princely, and apparently favourite residence; and the Hall and
estates of Lonsborrow in the same County.

The Cliffords are said to be sprung from an uncle of William the
Conqueror. The father of William had a younger brother, whose
third son, Richard Fitz-Pontz, married the daughter and heiress
of Ralph de Toni, of Clifford Castle, in Herefordshire. Their
second son, Walter, succeeding to his mother's estates, assumed
the name of Clifford, and was the father of the Fair Rosamond, the
famous mistress of King Henry the Second. He died in 1176. His
great-grandson, Roger de Clifford acquired the inheritance of the
Veteriponts or Viponts, Lords of Brougham Castle in Westmorland, by
his marriage with one of the co-heiresses of Robert de Vipont, the
last of that race. It was their son Robert who was first summoned
to sit in parliament, by a writ dated the 29th of December, 1299,
as the Lord Clifford.

The Cliffords were a warlike race, and engaged in all the contests
of the time. For many generations the chiefs of their house figure
as distinguished soldiers and captains; and most of them died on
the field of battle.

Roger, the father of the first lord, was renowned in the wars of
Henry III. and of Edward I., and was killed in a skirmish with the
Welsh in the Isle of Anglesey, on St. Leonard's day, 1283.

His son Robert, the first Lord Clifford, a favourite and companion
in arms of Edward I., was one of the guardians of Edward II. when
a minor, and Lord High Admiral in that monarch's reign. He fell at
the battle of Bannockburn, in 1314.

Roger, his son, the second lord, was engaged in the Earl of
Lancaster's insurrection, and had done much to deserve political
martyrdom in that rebellious age: but a feeling of humanity, such
as is seldom read of in civil wars, and especially in those times,
saved him from execution, when he was taken prisoner with Lancaster
and the rest of his associates. He had received so many wounds in
the battle (of Borough bridge), that he could not be brought before
the judge for the summary trial, which would have sent him to the
hurdle and the gallows. Being looked upon, therefore, as a dying
man, he was respited from the course of law: time enough elapsed,
while he continued in this state, for the heat of resentment to
abate, and Edward of Carnarvon, who, though a weak and most
misguided prince, was not a cruel one, spared his life; an act of
mercy which was the more graceful, because Clifford had insulted
the royal authority in a manner less likely to be forgiven than his
braving it in arms. A pursuivant had served a writ upon him in the
Barons' Chamber, and he made the man eat the wax wherewith the writ
was signed, "in contempt, as it were, of the said King."

He was the first Lord Clifford that was attainted of treason.
His lands and honours were restored in the first year of Edward
III., but he survived the restoration only a few weeks, dying in
the flower of his age, unmarried; but leaving "some base children
behind him, whom he had by a mean woman who was called Julian of
the Bower, for whom he built a little house hard by Whinfell, and
called it Julian's Bower, the lower foundation of which standeth,
and is yet to be seen," said the compiler of the family records,
an hundred and fifty years ago, "though all the walls be down long
since. And it is thought that the love which this Roger bore to
this Julian kept him from marrying any other woman."

Roger de Clifford was succeeded in his titles and estates by his
brother Robert, the third baron, who married Isabella de Berkeley,
sister to Thomas, Lord Berkeley, of Berkeley Castle; in which
Castle, two years after it had rung with "shrieks of death," when
the tragedy of Edward II. was brought to its dreadful catastrophe
there, the marriage was performed.

This Robert lived a country life, and "nothing is mentioned of
him in the wars," except that he once accompanied an army into
Scotland. It is, however, related of him, that when Edward Baliol
was driven from Scotland, the exiled king was "right honourably
received by him in Westmorland, and entertained in his Castles of
Brougham, Appleby, and Pendragon;" in acknowledgement for which
hospitality Baliol, if he might at any time recover the kingdom of
Scotland out of his adversaries' hands, made him a grant of Douglas
Dale, which had been granted to his grandfather who fell in Wales.
The Hart's Horn Tree in Whinfell Park, well known in tradition, and
in hunters' tales, owes its celebrity to this visit. He died in
1340.

Robert, his son, fourth lord, fought by the side of Edward the
Black Prince at the memorable battles of Cressy and Poictiers.

Roger, his brother, the fifth lord, styled "one of the wisest and
gallantest of the Cliffords," also served in the wars in France and
Scotland, in the reign of Edward III.

Thomas, his son, sixth lord Clifford, one of the most chivalrous
knights of his time, overcame, in a memorable passage of arms, the
famous French knight, "le Sire de Burjisande," and, at the age of
thirty, was killed in the battle at Spruce in Germany.

John, his son, the seventh lord, a Knight of the Garter, carried
with him to the French wars three knights, forty-seven esquires,
and one hundred and fifty archers. He fought under the banner of
Henry V. at the battle of Agincourt, attended him at the sieges
Harfleur and Cherbourg, and was eventually slain, at the age of
thirty-three, at the siege of Meaux in France.

Thomas, his son, eighth lord Clifford, described as "a chief
commander in France," was grandson on his mother's side to the
celebrated Hotspur, Harry Percy, and gained renown by the daring
and ingenious stratagem which he planned and successfully executed
for taking the town of Pontoise, near Paris, in 1438. The English
had lain for some time before the town, with little prospect of
reducing it, when a heavy fall of snow suggested to Lord Clifford
the means of effecting its capture. Arraying himself and his
followers with white tunics over their armour, he concealed
them during the night close to the walls of the town, which at
daybreak he surprised and carried by storm. Two years afterwards
he valiantly defended the town of Pontoise against the armies of
France, headed by Charles VII. in person.

In the Wars of the Roses they were not less prominent. The last
mentioned Thomas, though nearly allied by blood to the house of
York, took part with his unfortunate sovereign, Henry VI., and
fell on the 22nd of May, 1455, at the first battle of St. Albans,
receiving his death-blow from the hands of Richard Duke of York, at
the age of forty.

John, his son, the next and ninth lord, called from his complexion
the Black-faced Clifford, thirsting to revenge the fate of his
father, perpetrated that memorable act of cruelty, which for
centuries has excited indignation and tears, the murder of the
young Earl of Rutland, brother of Edward IV., in the pursuit after
the battle of Wakefield, on the 30th December, 1460. The latter,
whilst being withdrawn from the field by his attendant chaplain
and schoolmaster, a priest, called Sir Robert Aspall, was espied
by Lord Clifford; and being recognised by means of his apparel,
"dismayed, had not a word to speak, but kneeled on his knees
imploring mercy and desiring grace, both with holding up his hands
and making dolorous countenance, for his speech was gone for fear.
'Save him,' said his chaplain, 'for he is a prince's son, and
peradventure may do you good hereafter.' With that word, the Lord
Clifford marked him and said, 'By God's blood, thy father slew
mine, and so will I do thee and all thy kin;' and with that word
stuck the earl to the heart with his dagger, and bade his chaplain
bear the earl's mother and brother word what he had done and said."

The murder in cold blood of this unarmed boy, for he was only
twelve or at most seventeen years old, while supplicating for his
life, was not the only atrocity committed by Lord Clifford on
that eventful day. "This cruel Clifford and deadly blood-supper,"
writes the old chronicler, "not content with this homicide or
child-killing, came to the place where the dead corpse of the Duke
of York lay, and caused his head to be stricken off, and set on it
a crown of paper, and so fixed it on a pole and presented it to
the queen, not lying far from the field, in great spite and much
derision, saying, 'Madam, your war is done; here is your king's
ransom;' at which present was much joy and great rejoicing."

Lord Clifford fought at the second battle of St. Albans, on the
17th of February, 1461. It was in his tent, after the Lancastrians
had won the victory, that the unfortunate Henry VI. once more
embraced his consort Margaret of Anjou, and their beloved child.

Lord Clifford is usually represented as having been slain at the
battle of Towton. He fell, however, in a hard fought conflict
which preceded that engagement by a few hours, at a spot called
Dittingale, situated in a small valley between Towton and
Scarthingwell, struck in the throat by a headless arrow, discharged
from behind a hedge.

A small chapel on the banks of the Aire formerly marked the spot
where lay the remains of John Lord Clifford, as well as those of
his cousin, Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, who perished later
in the day upon Towton Field, on the 29th of March, 1461.

For nearly a quarter of a century from this time, the name of
Clifford remained an attainted one; their castles and seigniories
passed into the hands of strangers and enemies. The barony of
Westmorland was conferred by Edward IV. upon his brother Richard
Duke of Gloucester; the castle and manor of Skipton he bestowed, in
the first instance, upon Sir William Stanley; but in the fifteenth
year of his reign he transferred them to his "dear brother," which
lordly appanage he retained till his death on Bosworth Field.[1]

The young widow left by the Black-faced Clifford, was Margaret
daughter and sole heiress of Henry de Bromflete, Baron de Vesci.
She had borne her husband three children, two sons and a daughter,
now attainted by parliament, deprived of their honours and
inheritance, and their persons and lives in hourly jeopardy from
the strict search which was being made for them. The seat of her
father at Lonsborrow in Yorkshire, surrounded by a wild district,
offered a retreat from their enemies; and thither, as soon as the
fate of her lord was communicated to her, driven from the stately
halls of Skipton and Appleby, of which she had ceased to be
mistress, flew the young widow with her hunted children, and saved
them from the rage of the victorious party by concealment.

Henry, the elder son, at the period of their flight to Lonsborrow
was only seven years old. He was there placed by his mother, in the
neighbourhood where she lived, with a shepherd who had married one
of her inferior servants, an attendant on his nurse, to be brought
up in no better condition than the shepherd's own children. The
strict inquiry which had been made after them, and the subsequent
examination of their mother respecting them, at length led to the
conclusion that they had been conveyed beyond the sea, whither in
truth the younger boy had been sent, into the Netherlands, and
not long after died there. The daughter grew up to womanhood, and
became the wife of Sir Robert Aske, from whom descended the Askes
of Yorkshire, and the Lord Fairfax of Denton in the same county.

When the high born shepherd boy was about his fourteenth year,
his grandfather, Lord de Vesci being dead, and his mother having
become the wife of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, a rumour again arose and
reached the court that the young Lord Clifford was alive; whereupon
his mother, with the connivance and assistance of her husband, had
the shepherd with whom she had placed her son, removed with his
wife and family from Yorkshire to the more mountainous country
of Cumberland. In that wild and remote region, the persecuted
boy was "kept as a shepherd sometimes at Threlkeld amongst his
step-father's kindred, and sometimes upon the borders of Scotland,
where they took land purposely for those shepherds who had the
custody of him, where many times his step-father came purposely to
visit him, and sometimes his mother, though very secretly."

In this obscurity the heir of the Cliffords passed the remainder
of his boyhood, all his youth, and his early manhood; haunting, in
the pursuit of pastoral occupations, the lofty moorland wastes at
the foot of Blencathra, or musing in the solitude of the stupendous
heights of that "Peak of Witches;" at other times, ranging amid the
lonesome glens of Skiddaw Forest, or on the bleak heath-clad hills
of Caldbeck and Carrock.

Thus being of necessity nurtured much in solitude, and, habited in
rustic garb, bred up to man's estate among the simple dalesmen, to
whom, as well as to himself, his rank and station were unknown, he
was reared in so great ignorance that he could neither read nor
write; for his parents durst not have him instructed in any kind
of learning, lest by it his birth should be discovered; and when
subsequently he was restored to his title and estates, and took his
place among his peers, he never attained to higher proficiency in
the art of writing than barely enabled him to sign his name.

One of the first acts of Henry VII. was to restore the lowly
Clifford to his birthright and to all that had been possessed by
his noble ancestors. And his mother, who did not die till the year
1493, lived to see him thus suddenly exalted from a poor shepherd
into a rich and powerful lord, at the age of one and thirty.

In his retirement he had acquired great astronomical knowledge,
watching, like the Chaldeans of old time, the stars by night
upon the mountains, as is current from tradition in the village
and neighbourhood of Threlkeld at this day. And when, on his
restoration to his estates and honours, he had become a great
builder and repaired several of his castles, he resided chiefly at
Barden Tower, in Yorkshire, to be near the Priory of Bolton; "to
the end that he might have opportunity to converse with some of
the canons of that house, as it is said, who were well versed in
astronomy; unto which study having a singular affection (perhaps
in regard to his solitary shepherd's life, which gave him time for
contemplation,) he fitted himself with diverse instruments for use
therein."

Whitaker, in like manner, represents the restored lord as having
brought to his new position "the manners and education of a
shepherd," and as being "at this time, almost, if not altogether,
illiterate." But it is added that he was "far from deficient in
natural understanding, and, what strongly marks an ingenuous mind
in a state of recent elevation, depressed by a consciousness of
his own deficiencies." If it was on this account, as we are also
told, that he retired to the solitude of Barden, where he seems to
have enlarged the tower out of a common keeper's lodge, he found
in it a retreat equally favourable to taste, to instruction, and
to devotion. The narrow limits of his residence show that he had
learned to despise the pomp of greatness, and that a small train of
servants could suffice him, who had lived to the age of thirty a
servant himself.

Whitaker suspects Lord Clifford, however, "to have been sometimes
occupied in a more visionary pursuit, and probably in the same
company," namely, the canons of Bolton, from having found among the
family evidences two manuscripts on the subject of Alchemy, which
may almost certainly be referred to the age in which he lived. If
these were originally deposited with the MSS. of the Cliffords, it
might have been for the use of this nobleman. If they were brought
from Bolton at the Dissolution, they must have been the work of
those canons with whom he almost exclusively conversed.

In these peaceful employments Lord Clifford spent the whole
reign of Henry VII., and the first years of that of his son. His
descendant the Countess of Pembroke describes him as a plain man,
who lived for the most part a country life, and came seldom either
to court or London, excepting when called to Parliament, on which
occasion he behaved himself like a wise and good English nobleman.
But in the year 1513, when almost sixty years old, he was appointed
to a principal command over the army which fought at Flodden, and
showed that the military genius of the family had neither been
chilled in him by age, nor extinguished by habits of peace.

He survived the battle of Flodden ten years, and died April 23rd,
1523, aged about 70; having by his last will appointed his body
to be interred at Shap, if he died in Westmorland; or at Bolton,
if he died in Yorkshire. "I shall endeavour," says Whitaker, "to
appropriate to him a tomb, vault, and chantry, in the choir of
the Church of Bolton, as I should be sorry to believe that he was
deposited, when dead, at a distance from the place which in his
life time he loved so well." There exists no memorial of his
place of burial. The broken floors and desecrated vaults of Shap
and Bolton afford no trace or record of his tomb. It is probable,
however, that in one of these sanctuaries he was laid to rest among
the ashes of his illustrious kindred.

The vault at Skipton Church was prepared for the remains of his
immediate descendants. Thither, with three of their wives, and a
youthful scion of their house, the boy Lord Francis, were borne
in succession the five Earls of Cumberland of his name; when this
their tomb finally closed over the line of Clifford: the lady
Anne choosing rather to lie beside "her beloved mother," in the
sepulchre which she had erected for herself at Appleby, than with
her martial ancestors at Skipton.

Having thus been wonderfully preserved--says a writer whose
words have often been quoted in these pages--and after twenty
years of secretness and seclusion, having been restored in blood
and honours, to his barony, his lands, and his castles; he, the
Shepherd Lord, came forth upon the world with a mind in advance of
the age, a spirit of knowledge, of goodness, and of light, such as
was rarely seen in that time of ignorance and superstition; averse
to courtly pomp, delighting himself chiefly in country pursuits,
in repairing his castles, and in learned intercourse with such
literate persons as he could find. He was the wisest of his race,
and falling upon more peaceful times, was enabled to indulge in the
studies and thoughtful dispositions which his early misfortunes
had induced and cultured. Throughout a long life he remained one,
whose precious example, though it had but few imitators, and even
exposed him to be regarded with dread, as dealing in the occult
sciences, and leagued with beings that mortal man ought not to
know, was nevertheless so far appreciated by his less enlightened
countrymen, that his image was always linked in their memories and
affections with whatever was great and ennobling, and caused him to
be recorded to this, our day, by the endearing appellation of the
"Good Lord Clifford."

This nobleman was twice married,--first to Anne, daughter of
Sir John St. John of Bletsoe, cousin-germain to King Henry the
Seventh, by whom he had two sons and five daughters. Lady Clifford
was a woman of great goodness and piety, who lived for the most
part a country life in her husband's castles in the North, during
the twenty-one years she remained his wife. His second wife was
Florence, daughter of Henry Pudsey, of Bolton, in Yorkshire,
Esquire, grandson of Sir Ralph Pudsey, the faithful protector
of Henry the Sixth after the overthrow of the Lancastrian cause
at Hexham. By her he had two or three sons, and one daughter,
Dorothy, who became the wife of Sir Hugh Lowther, of Lowther, in
Westmorland, and from whom the Earls of Lonsdale are descended.

It is said that, towards the end of the first Lady Clifford's
life, her husband was unkind to her, and he had two or three base
children by another woman.

Lord Clifford was unfortunate in having great unkindness and
estrangement between himself and his oldest son Henry. Early habits
of friendship, on the part of the latter, with King Henry VIII.
and a strong passion for parade and greatness, seem to have robbed
his heart of filial affection. The pure simplicity and unequivocal
openness of his father's manners had long been an offence to his
pride; but the old man's alliance with Florence Pudsey provoked his
irreconcilable aversion. By his follies and vices, also, the latter
years of his father were sorely disturbed. That wild and dissolute
young nobleman, attaching himself to a troop of roystering
followers, led a bandit's life, oppressed the lieges, harassed the
religious houses, beat the tenants, and forced the inhabitants of
whole villages to take sanctuary in their churches. He afterwards
reformed, and was employed in all the armies sent into Scotland by
Henry the Seventh and his successor, where he ever behaved himself
nobly and valiantly; and subsequently became one of the most
eminent men of his time, and within two years after his father's
death, having been through life a personal friend and favourite
of Henry the Eighth, was elevated by that partial monarch to the
dignity of Earl of Cumberland, which title he held till his decease
in 1542. It has been conjectured, but on no sufficient grounds,
that he was the hero of the ballad of "The Nut-Brown Maid."

In addition to the members of this distinguished family who have
already been enumerated as attaining to great personal distinction,
may be named George, the third of the five Earls of Cumberland, the
favourite of Queen Elizabeth, called the "Great Sea-faring Lord
Clifford," an accomplished courtier as well as naval hero,[2] one
of those to whom England is indebted for her proud title of "the
Ocean Queen." And lastly, his daughter, the Lady Anne Clifford,
Countess of Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery, of famous memory, one
of the most celebrated women of her time.