Chapter III: Part 3

About three miles from Threlkeld, the ancient home of Sir Lancelot
Threlkeld and his noble step-son, stands as the eastern barrier of
the Blencathra group of mountains, that part of it which is known
as Souter Fell; whose irregular and precipitous summit, everywhere
difficult of access, rises to a height of about 2,500 feet. It is
on the south of Bowscale Fell, leaning westward from the Hesketh
and Carlisle road, by which its eastern base is skirted. This
mountain is celebrated in local history as having several times
been the scene of those singular aerial phenomena known as mirages.
A tradition of a spectral army having been seen marching over these
mountains had long been current in the neighbourhood, and this
remarkable exhibition was actually witnessed in the years 1735,
1737, and 1745, by several independent parties of the dalesmen;
and, as may well be supposed, excited much attention in the north
of England, and long formed a subject of superstitious fear and
wonder in the surrounding district. A sight so strange as that of
the whole side of the mountain appearing covered with troops, both
infantry and cavalry, who after going through regular military
evolutions for more than an hour, defiled off in good order, and
disappeared over a precipitous ridge on the summit, was sure to
be the subject of much speculation and enquiry. Many persons at
a distance hearing of the phenomenon, proceeded to the places
where it was witnessed, purposely to examine the spectators who
asserted the fact, and who continued positive in their assertions
as to the appearances. Amongst others, one of the contributors
to Hutchinson's History of Cumberland went to inquire into the
subject; and the following is the account of the information he
obtained, given in his own words.

"On Midsummer Eve 1735, William Lancaster's servant related that
he saw the east side of Souter Fell, towards the top, covered with
a regular marching army for above an hour together; he said they
consisted of distinct bodies of troops, which appeared to proceed
from an eminence in the north end, and marched over a nitch in the
top, but as no other person in the neighbourhood had seen the like,
he was discredited and laughed at.

"Two years after, on Midsummer Eve also, betwixt the hours of
eight and nine, William Lancaster himself imagined that several
gentlemen were following their horses at a distance, as if they had
been hunting, and taking them for such, paid no regard to it, till
about ten minutes after, again turning his head to the place, they
appeared to be mounted, and a vast army following, five in rank,
crowding over at the same place, where the servant said he saw them
two years before. He then called his family, who all agreed in
the same opinion; and what was most extraordinary, he frequently
observed that some one of the five would quit the rank, and seem to
stand in a fronting posture, as if he was observing and regulating
the order of their march, or taking account of the numbers, and
after some time appeared to return full gallop to the station he
had left, which they never failed to do as often as they quitted
their lines, and the figure that did so was one of the middlemost
men in the rank. As it grew later they seemed more regardless of
discipline, and rather had the appearance of people riding from
a market, than an army, though they continued crowding on, and
marching off, as long as they had light to see them.

"This phenomenon was no more seen till the Midsummer Eve, which
preceded the rebellion, when they were determined to call more
families to witness this sight, and accordingly went to Wiltonhill
and Souther Fell-side, till they convened about twenty-six persons,
who all affirm that they saw the same appearance, but not conducted
with the usual regularity as the preceding ones, having the
likeness of carriages interspersed; however it did not appear to be
less real, for some of the company were so affected with it as in
the morning to climb the mountain, through an idle expectation of
finding horse shoes, after so numerous an army, but they saw not a
vestige or print of a foot.

"William Lancaster, indeed, told me, that he never concluded they
were real beings, because of the impracticability of a march over
the precipices, where they seemed to come on; that the night was
extremely serene; that horse and man, upon strict looking at,
appeared to be but one being, rather than two distinct ones; that
they were nothing like any clouds or vapours, which he had ever
perceived elsewhere; that their number was incredible, for they
filled lengthways near half a mile, and continued so in a swift
march for above an hour, and much longer he thinks if night had
kept off."

The writer adds,--"This whole story has so much the air of a
romance, that it seemed fitter for _Amadis de Gaul_, or _Glenvilles
System of Witches_, than the repository of the learned; but as the
country was full of it, I only give it verbatim from the original
relation of a people, that could have no end in imposing upon their
fellow-creatures, and are of good repute in the place where they
live."

Not less circumstantial is the account of this remarkable
phenomenon gathered from the same sources by Mr. James Clarke,
the intelligent author of the Survey of the Lakes; and which
account, he says, "perhaps can scarcely be paralleled by history,
or reconciled to probability; such, however, is the evidence we
have of it," he continues, "that I cannot help relating it, and
then my readers must judge for themselves. I shall give it nearly
in the words of Mr. Lancaster of _Blakehills_, from whom I had the
account; and whose veracity, even were it not supported by many
concurrent testimonies, I could fully rely upon. The story is as
follows:

"On the 23rd of June 1744 (Qu. 45?), his father's servant, Daniel
Stricket (who now lives under Skiddaw, and is an auctioneer),
about half past seven in the evening was walking a little above
the house. Looking round him he saw a troop of men on horseback
riding on _Souther Fell-side_, (a place so steep that an horse
can scarcely travel on it at all,) in pretty close ranks and at a
brisk walk. Stricket looked earnestly at them some time before he
durst venture to acquaint any one with what he saw, as he had the
year before made himself ridiculous by a visionary story, which I
beg leave here also to relate: He was at that time servant to John
Wren of _Wiltonhill_, the next house to _Blakehills_, and sitting
one evening after supper at the door along with his master, they
saw a man with a dog pursuing some horses along Souther Fell-side;
and they seemed to run at an amazing pace, till they got out of
sight at the low end of the Fell. This made them resolve to go
next morning to the place to pick up the shoes which they thought
these horses must have lost in galloping at such a furious rate;
they expected likewise to see prodigious grazes from the feet of
these horses on the steep side of the mountain, and to find the
man lying dead, as they were sure he run so fast that he must
kill himself. Accordingly they went, but, to their great surprise,
found not a shoe, nor even a single vestige of any horse having
been there, much less did they find the man lying dead as they
had expected. This story they some time concealed; at length,
however, they ventured to tell it, and were (as might be expected)
heartily laughed at. Stricket, conscious of his former ridiculous
error, observed these aerial troops some time before he ventured to
mention what he saw; at length, fully satisfied that what he saw
was real, he went into the house, and told Mr. Lancaster he had
something curious to show him. Mr. Lancaster asked him what it was,
adding, "I suppose some bonefire," (for it was then, and still is
a custom, for the shepherds, on the evening before St. John's day,
to light bonefires, and vie with each other in having the largest.)
Stricket told him, if he would walk with him to the end of the
house he would show him what it was. They then went together,
and before Stricket spoke or pointed to the place, Mr. Lancaster
himself discovered the phenomenon, and said to Stricket, "Is that
what thou hast to show me?" "Yes, Master," replied Stricket: "Do
you think you see as I do?" They found they did see alike, so they
went and alarmed the family, who all came, and all saw this strange
phenomenon.

"These visionary horsemen seemed to come from the lowest part of
Souther Fell, and became visible first at a place called KNOTT:
they then moved in regular troops along the side of the Fell, till
they came opposite _Blakehills_, when they went over the mountain:
thus they described a kind of curvilineal path upon the side of the
Fell, and both their first and last appearance were bounded by the
top of the mountain.

"Frequently the last, or last but one, in a troop, (always either
the one or the other,) would leave his place, gallop to the front,
and then take the same pace with the rest, a _regular, swift
walk_: these changes happened to every troop, (for many troops
appeared,) and oftener than once or twice, yet not at all times
alike. The spectators saw, _all alike_, the same changes, and at
the same time, as they discovered by asking each other questions
as any change took place. Nor was this wonderful phenomenon seen
at Blakehills only, it was seen by _every_ person at _every
cottage_ within the distance of a mile; neither was it confined to
a momentary view, for from the time that Stricket first observed
it, the appearance must have lasted at least two hours and a half,
viz. from half past seven, till the night coming on prevented the
farther view; nor yet was the distance such as could impose rude
resemblances on the eyes of credulity: _Blakehills_ lay not half
a mile from the place where this astonishing appearance _seemed_
to be, and many other places where it was likewise seen are still
nearer."

This account is attested by the signatures of William Lancaster and
Daniel Stricket, and dated the 21st day of July 1785.

"Thus I have given," continues Mr. Clark, "the best account I can
procure of this wonderful appearance; let others determine what
it was. This country, like every other where cultivation has been
lately introduced, abounds in the _aniles fabellæ_ of fairies,
ghosts, and apparitions; but these are never even _fabled_ to
have been seen by more than one or two persons at a time, and the
view is always said to be momentary. Speed tells of something
indeed similar to this as preceding a dreadful intestine war. Can
something of this nature have given rise to Ossian's grand and
awful mythology? or, finally, Is there any impiety in supposing, as
this happened immediately before that rebellion which was intended
to subvert the liberty, the law, and the religion of England; that
though immediate prophecies have ceased, these visionary beings
might be directed to warn mankind of approaching _tumults_? In
short, it is difficult to say what it was, or what it was not."

Sir David Brewster, in his work on _Natural Magic_, after quoting
this narrative from Mr. James Clark, which he describes as "one of
the most interesting accounts of aerial spectres with which we are
acquainted," continues--"These extraordinary sights were received
not only with distrust, but with absolute incredulity. They were
not even honoured with a place in the records of natural phenomena,
and the philosophers of the day were neither in possession of
analagous facts, nor were they acquainted with those principles
of atmospherical refraction upon which they depend. The strange
phenomena, indeed, of the _Fata Morgana_, or the _Castles of the
Fairy Mor-Morgana_, had been long before observed, and had been
described by Kircher, in the 17th century, but they presented
nothing so mysterious as the aerial troopers of Souter Fell; and
the general characters of the two phenomena were so unlike, that
even a philosopher might have been excused for ascribing them to
different causes."

The accepted explanation of this appearance now is, that on the
evenings in question, the rebel Scotch troops were performing their
military evolutions on the west coast of Scotland, and that by
some peculiar refraction of the atmosphere their movements were
reflected on this mountain. Phenomena similar to these were seen
near Stockton-on-the-Forest, in Yorkshire, in 1792; in Harrogate,
on June 28th, 1812; and near St. Neot's, in Huntingdonshire, in
1820. Tradition also records the tramp of armies over Helvellyn, on
the eve of the battle of Marston Moor. To these may be added the
appearance of the Spectre of the Brocken in the Hartz Mountains;
and an instance mentioned by Hutchinson, that in the spring of the
year 1707, early on a serene still morning, two persons who were
walking from one village to another in Leicestershire, observed a
like appearance of an army marching along, till, going behind a
great hill, it disappeared. The forms of pikes and carbines were
distinguishable, the march was not entirely in one direction, but
was at first like the junction of two armies, and the meeting of
generals.

Aerial phenomena of a like nature are recorded by Livy, Josephus,
and Suetonius; and a passage in Sacred History seems to refer to a
similar circumstance. See Judges ix. 36.

Many in this country considered these appearances as ominous of the
great waste of blood spilt by Britain in her wars with America and
France. Shakespeare says, in _Julius Cæsar_,

"When these prodigies
Do so conjointly meet, let not men say,
---- ----they are natural;
For, I believe, they are portentous things
Unto the climate that they point upon."

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Whitaker gives the terms of this grant: "The king, in cons'on of ye laudable and commendable service of his dere b'r Richard Duke of Gloucester, as _for the encouragement of piety and virtue_ in the said duke, did give and grant, etc., the honor, castle, manors, and demesnes of Skipton, with the manor of Marton, etc., etc." Pat: Rolls, 15 Edw. IV.

[2] A notable example of the piety of our ancestors is recorded in a MS. Journal of a Voyage to India, still preserved in Skipton Castle, made under the auspices of this Earl of Cumberland. It gives an account of the proceedings of the Expedition on a Saturday and Sunday.

"Nov. 5. Our men went on shor and fet rys abord, and burnt the rest of the houses in the negers towne; and our bot went downe to the outermoste pointe of the ryver, and burnt a towne, and brout away all the rys that was in the towne. The 6th day we servyd God, being Sunday."

In what manner they served God on the Sunday, after plundering and burning two towns on the Saturday, the writer has not thought it necessary to relate.

PAN ON KIRKSTONE.

Not always in fair Grecian bowers
Piped ancient Pan, to charm the hours.
Once in a thousand years he stray'd
Round earth, and all his realms survey'd.

And fairer in the world were none
Than those bright scenes he look'd upon,
Where Ulph's sweet lake her valleys woo'd,
And Windar all her isles renew'd.

For, long ere Kirkstone's rugged brow
Was worn by mortal feet as now,
Great Pan himself the Pass had trod,
And rested on the heights, a God!

Who climbs from Ulph's fair valley sees,
Still midway couched on Kirkstone-Screes,
Old as the hills, his Dog on high,
At gaze athwart the southern sky.

A rock, upon that rocky lair,
It lives from out the times that were,
When hairy Pan his soul to cheer
Look'd from those heights on Windermere.

There piped he on his reed sweet lays,
Piped his great heart's delight and praise;
While Nature, answering back each tone,
Joy'd the glad fame to find her own.

"Could I, while men at distance keep,"
Said Pan, "in yon bright waters peep,
And watch their ripples come and go,
And see what treasures hide below!

"Rivall'd is my fair Greece's store,
My own Parnassian fields and shore!
I will delight me, and behold
Myself in yon bright Mere of gold."

Like thought, his Dog sprang to yon lair
To watch the heights and sniff the air:
Like thought, on Helm a Lion frown'd,
To guard the northern Pass's bound:

And with his mate a mighty Pard
On Langdale-head, kept watchful ward:--
That great God Pan his soul might cheer,
Glass'd in the depths of Windermere.

Then down the dell from steep to steep,
With many a wild and wayward leap,
The God descending stood beside
His image on the golden tide.

His shaggy sides in full content
He sunn'd, and o'er the waters bent;
Then hugg'd himself the reeds among,
And piped his best Arcadian song.

What was it, as he knelt and drew
The wave to sip, that pierced him through?
What whispered sound, what stifled roar,
Has reached him listening on the shore?

He shivers on the old lake stones;
He leans, aghast, to catch the groans
Which come like voices uttering woe
Up all the streams, and bid him go.

Onward the looming troubles roll,
All centring towards his mighty soul.
He shriek'd! and in a moment's flight,
Stunn'd, through the thickets plunged from sight.

Plunged he, his unking'd head to hide
With goats and herds in forests wide?
Or down beneath the rocks to lie,
Shut in from leaves, and fields, and sky?

Gone was the great God out from earth!
Gone, with his pipe of tuneful mirth!
Whither, and wherefore, men may say
Who stood where Pilate mused that day.

And with that breath that crisp'd the rills,
And with that shock that smote the hills,
A moment Nature sobb'd and mourn'd,
And things of life to rocks were turned.

Stricken to stone in heart and limb,
Like all things else that followed him,
Yonder his Dog lies watching still
For Pan's lost step to climb the hill.

And those twin Pards, huge, worn with time,
Stretch still their rocky lengths sublime,
Where once they watched to guard from man
The sportive mood of great God Pan.

And craggy Helm's grey Lion rears
The mane he shook in those old years,
In changeless stone, from morn to morn
Awaiting still great Pan's return.

Could he come back again, to range
The earth, how much must all things change!
Not Nature's self, even rock and stone,
Would deign her perished God to own.

The former life all fled away--
No custom'd haunt to bid him stay--
No flower on earth, no orb on high,
No place, to know him--Pan must die.

Down with his age he went to rest;
His great heart, stricken in his breast
By tidings from that far-off shore,
Burst--and great Pan was King no more!

NOTES TO "PAN ON KIRKSTONE."

The sudden trouble and annihilation of Pan have reference to a
passage in Plutarch, in his _Treatise on Oracles_, in which he
relates that at the time of the Crucifixion, a voice was heard by
certain mariners, sweeping over the Egean Sea, and crying "Pan is
dead"; and the Oracles ceased. This idea, so beautifully expressing
the overthrow of Paganism, and the flight of the old gods, at the
inauguration of Christianity, Milton has finely elaborated in his
sublime "Hymn on the Morning of the Nativity."

Many of the mountains in the North of England derive their name
from some peculiarity of form: as _Helm-Crag_ in Grasmere,
_Saddle-Back_ near Keswick, _Great Gable_ at the head of
Wast-Water, _The Pillar_ in Ennerdale, _The Hay Stacks_, _The
Haycocks_, _High Stile_, _Steeple_, &c.

There are also very marked resemblances to animate objects, well
known to those familiar with the Lake District, as the _Lion and
the Lamb_ on the summit of Helm-Crag; the _Astrologer_, or _Old
woman cowering_, on the same spot when seen from another quarter;
the rude similitude of a female colossal statue, which gives the
name of _Eve's Crag_ to a cliff in the vale of Derwentwater. An
interesting and but little known Arthurian reminiscence is found
in the old legend that the recumbent effigy of that great king may
be traced from some parts of the neighbourhood of Penrith in the
outlines of the mountain range of which the peaks of Saddleback
form the most prominent points. From the little hill of Castle
Head or Castlet, the royal face of George the Third with its
double chin, short nose, and receding forehead, can be quite
made out in the crowning knob of Causey Pike. From under Barf,
near Bassenthwaite Water, is seen the form which gives name to
the _Apostle's Crag_. At a particular spot, the solemn shrouded
figure comes out with bowed head and reverent mien, as if actually
detaching itself from the rock--a vision seen by the passer by
only for a few yards, when the magic ceases, and the Apostle goes
back to stone. The massy forms of the Langdale Pikes, as seen from
the south east, with the sweeping curve of Pavey Ark behind, are
strikingly suggestive of two gigantic lions or pards, crouching
side by side, with their breasts half turned towards the spectator.
And a remarkable figure of a shepherd's dog, but of no great size,
may be seen stretched out on a jutting crag, about half way up the
precipice which overhangs the road, as the summit of Kirkstone Pass
is approached from Brother's Water. It is not strictly, as stated
in the foregoing verses, on the part of Kirkstone Fell called Red
Screes, but some distance below it on the Patterdale side.

Among the freaks of Nature occasionally to be found in these hilly
regions, is the print of the heifer's foot in Borrowdale, shown
by the guides; and on a stone near Buck-Crag in Eskdale, the
impressions of the foot of a man, a boy, and a dog, without any
marks of tooling or instrument; and the remarkable precipices of
Doe-Crag and Earn-Crag, whose fronts are polished as marble, the
one 160 yards in perpendicular height, the other 120 yards.

On the top of the Screes, above Wastwater, stood for ages a very
large stone called Wilson's Horse; which about a century ago fell
down into the lake, when a cleft was made one hundred yards long,
four feet wide, and of incredible depth.

ST. BEGA AND THE SNOW MIRACLE.

The seas will rise though saints on board
Commend their frail skiff to the Lord.
And Bega and her holy band
Are shipwrecked on the Cumbrian strand.

"Give me," she asked, "for me and mine,
O Lady of high Bretwalda's line!
Give, for His sake who succoured thee,
A shelter for these maids and me."--

Then sew'd, and spun, and crewl-work wrought,[3]
And served the poor they meekly taught,
These virgins good; and show'd the road
By blameless lives to Heaven and God.

They won from rude men love and praise;
They lived unmoved through evil days;
And only longed for a home to rise
To store up treasures for the skies.

That pious wish the Lady's bower
Has reached; and forth she paced the tower:--
"My gracious Lord! of thy free hand
Grant this good Saint three roods of land.

"Three roods, where she may rear a pile,
To sing God's praise through porch and aisle;
And, serving Him, us too may bless
For sheltering goodness in distress."

The Earl he turned him gaily near,
Laughed lightly in his Lady's ear--
"By this bright Eve of blessed St. John!
I'll give--what the snow to-morrow lies on."

His Lady roused him at dawn with smiles--
"The snow lies white for miles and miles!"
From loophole and turret he stares on the sight
Of Midsummer-morning clothed in white.

"--Well done, good Saint! the lands are thine.
Go, build thy church, and deck thy shrine.
I 'bate no jot of my plighted word,
Though lightly spoken and lightly heard.

"If mirth and my sweet Lady's grace
Have lost me many a farm and chace,
I know that power unseen belongs
To holy ways and Christian songs.

"And He, who thee from wind and wave
Deliverance and a refuge gave,
When we must brave a gloomier sea,
May hear thy prayers for mine and me."

NOTES TO "ST. BEGA AND THE SNOW MIRACLE."

The remains of the Monastery of St. Bees, about four miles south
of Whitehaven, stand in a low situation, with marshy lands to the
east, and on the west exposed to storms from the Irish Channel.

In respect to this religious foundation, Tanner says, "Bega, an
holy woman from Ireland is said to have founded, about the year
650, a small monastery in Copeland, where afterwards a church was
built in memory of her. This religious house being destroyed by the
Danes, was restored by William, brother to Ranulph de Meschines,
Earl of Cumberland, in the time of King Henry I., and made a cell
for a prior and six Benedictine monks, to the Abbey of St. Mary,
York."

The earliest documents connected with this place call it
_Kirkby-Begogh_, the market town of St. Bega; and _St. Bee_, or
_St. Bees_, the Saint's house or houses, names given to it _after_
the Irish Saint resided there.

St. Bega is said to have been the daughter of an Irish king, "who
was a Christian, and an earnest man, to boot." He wished to marry
his daughter to a Norwegian prince; but she, having determined
to be a nun, ran away from her father's house, and joining some
strange sailors, took ship, and sailed to the coast of Cumberland.

The accounts given of the first foundation of the nunnery of
St. Bees are very contradictory, the common version being the
traditionary account in Mr. Sandford's MS., namely, that the extent
of the territories was originally designated by a preternatural
fall of snow, through the prayers of the Saint, on the eve of St.
John's or Midsummer day. From this MS. it would appear that a
ship, containing a lady abbess and her sisters, being "driven in
by stormy weather at Whitehaven," the abbess applied for relief to
the lady of Egremont, who, taking compassion on her destitution,
obtained of her lord a dwelling place for them, "at the now St.
Bees;" where they "sewed and spinned, and wrought carpets and other
work and lived very godly lives, as got them much love." It goes on
to say that the lady of Egremont, at the request of the abbess,
spoke to her lord to give them some land "to lay up treasure in
heaven," and that "he laughed and said he would give them as much
as snow fell upon the next morning, being Midsummer day; and on the
morrow as he looked out of his castle window, all was white with
snow for three miles together. And thereupon builded this St. Bees
Abbie, and gave all those lands was snowen unto it, and the town
and haven of Whitehaven, &c."

The "Life of Sancta Bega," however, a latin chronicle of the Middle
Ages, in which are recorded the acts of the Saint, gives the Snow
Miracle somewhat differently, and places it many years after the
death of the mild recluse, in the time of Ranulph de Meschines. The
monkish historian relates that certain persons had instilled into
the ears of that nobleman, that the monks had unduly extended their
possessions. A dispute arose on this subject, for the settlement of
which, by the prayers of the religious, "invoking most earnestly
the intercession of their advocate the blessed Bega," the whole
land became white with snow, except the territories of the church
which stood forth dry.

It is certain that the name of _Sancta Bega_ is inseparably
connected with the Snow Miracle; but the anachronism which refers
the former of the accounts just given to the period of William de
Meschines would seem to show that the narrator has mixed up the
circumstances attending its foundation in the middle of the seventh
century with its restoration in the twelfth; for, says Denton, "the
said Lord William de Meschines seated himself at Egremont, where
he built a castle upon a sharp topped hill, and thereupon called
the same _Egremont_." This writer elsewhere says, "The bounders of
William Meschines aforesaid, which he gave the priory are in these
words: 'Totam terram et vis totum feodum inter has divisas, viz. a
pede de Whit of Haven ad Kekel, et per Kekel donec cadit in Eyre
et per Eyre quousque in mare.' Kekel runneth off from Whillymore
by Cleator and Egremont, and so into Eyne; at Egremont Eyre is the
foot of Eyne, which falleth out of Eynerdale."

The monkish version of the legend, therefore, refers to William
de Meschines, as the Lord of Egremont, and to the lands which
were given by him at the restoration of the Priory in the twelfth
century: whilst that related by Sandford alludes to some other
powerful chief, who, in the life time of the Saint in the seventh
century had his seat at Egremont, which, as has been stated
elsewhere, "was probably a place of strength during the Heptarchy,
and in the time of the Danes."

It might almost seem as if some such legend as that of the Snow
Miracle were necessary to account for the singular form of this
extensive and populous parish: which includes the large and
opulent town of Whitehaven; the five chapelries of Hensingham,
Ennerdale, Eskdale, Wastdale-Head, and Nether-Wastdale; and the
townships of St. Bees, Ennerdale, Ennerdale High End, Eskdale and
Wastdale, Hensingham, Kinneyside, Lowside-Quarter, Nether-Wastdale,
Preston-Quarter, Rottington, Sandwith, Weddicar, and Whitehaven.
It extends ten miles along the coast, and reaches far inland, so
that some of its chapelries are ten and fourteen miles from the
mother-church.

In the monkish chronicle of the Life and Miracles of Sancta Bega
occurs the following passage:--

"A certain celebration had come round by annual revolution which
the men of that land use to solemnise by a most holy Sabbath on
the eve of Pentecost, on account of certain tokens of the sanctity
of the holy virgin then found there, which they commemorate, and
they honor her church by visiting it with offerings of prayers and
oblations."[4]

In allusion to which, Mr. Tomlinson the editor and translator of
the MS. observes that "this is another of those marks of dependence
of the surrounding chapelries which formerly existed; a mark the
more interesting because to this day some traces of it remain.
Communicants still annually resort to the church of St. Bees at the
festival of Easter from considerable distances; and the village
presents an unusual appearance from their influx; and at the church
the eucharist is administered as early as eight in the morning,
in addition to the celebration of it at the usual time. There can
be no doubt but that Whitsuntide, and perhaps Christmas, as well
as Easter, were formerly seasons when the church of St. Bees was
resorted to by numbers who appeared within it at no other time,
save perhaps at the burial of their friends. The great festivals
of the church appear in the middle ages to have been considered
by the English as peculiarly auspicious for the solemnization of
marriages. At these seasons then, from concurring causes, the
long-drawn solemn processions of priests and people would be
chiefly seen, and then also, the accustomed oblations of the latter
to the mother church of St. Bees would be discharged."

As to the "town and haven of Whitehaven" included in the gift to
"St. Bees Abbie," its eligibility as a fishing ground, when the
tides ran nearer the meadows than at present, would doubtless
attract the attention of the monks of St. Bees; and the fact of
its being denominated _Whittofthaven_, _Quitofthaven_, _Wythoven_,
_Whyttothaven_, _Whitten_, &c., in the register of St. Bees and
other ancient records, evidently shows that it is a place of
greater antiquity than has generally been ascribed to it; and some
fragments of tradition, still extant, seem to countenance this
opinion.

Denton (MS.) speaking of Whitehaven or White-Toft Haven, says
"It was belonging to St. Beghs of antient time, for the Abbot
of York, in Edward I.'s time was impleaded for wreck, and his
liberties there, by the King, which he claimed from the foundation,
to be confirmed by Richard Lucy, in King John's time, to his
predecessors."

That Whitehaven was anciently a place of resort for shipping
appears from some particulars respecting it mentioned in those
remarkable Irish documents, called the _Annals of the Four
Masters_, much of which was written at the Abbey of Monesterboice,
in the county of Louth--nearly opposite, on the Irish shore. In the
account of the domestic habits and manufactures of the Irish, it
is stated that their _coracles_, or _Wicker Boats_, their Noggins,
and other domestic utensils, were made of wood called _Wythe_ or
_Withey_, brought from the opposite shore of _Baruch_ (i.e. rocky
coast) and that a small colony was placed there for the purpose
of collecting this wood. That Barach mouth, or Barrow mouth, and
Barrow mouth wood is the same as that alluded to by the Four
Masters, is evident from the legend of St. Bega, which places it
in the same locality; and that the colony of Celts resided in the
neighbourhood of the now _Celts_, or _Kell's Pit_, in the same
locality also, is manifest from the name. About the year 930, it
appears that one of the Irish princes or chiefs, accompanied an
expedition to this place for wood (for that a great portion of
the site of the present town and the neighbouring heights were
formerly covered with forest trees there can be no doubt) and that
the inhabitants who were met at _Whitten_, or _Wittenagemote_, fell
upon and look the chief and several of the accompanying expedition
prisoners from a jealousy of their sanctuary being invaded. Many
of the Irish utensils were imported hither, particularly the
_noggin_, or small water pail, which was made of closely woven
wickerwork, and covered inside with skin, having a projecting
handle for the purpose of dipping into a river or well. The same
article, in its primitive shape, though made of a different
material, called a _geggin_, is still used by some of the farmers
in that neighbourhood. When _Adam de Harris_ gave lands at Bransty
Beck to the church of Holm Cultram, he also gave privilege to the
monks to cut wood for making geggins or noggins.

From an old history of the county of Durham, Whitehaven appears
to have been a resort for shipping in the tenth century; and when
the Nevills of Raby were called upon to furnish their quota of
men to accompany Henry in his expedition to Ireland in 1172, they
were brought to _Wythop-haven_, or _Witten-haven_, and transported
thence in ships to the Irish coast. When Edward was advancing
against Scotland, in the fourteenth century, he found a ship
belonging to this place, in which he sent a cargo of oats, to be
ground by the monks of St. Bees.

In nearly all histories of Cumberland, the name of Whitehaven has
been attributed either to some imaginary whiteness of the rocks
on the east side of the harbour, or to the cognomen of an old
fisherman who resided there about the year 1566, at which time the
town is said to have had only six houses. In 1633 it consisted of
only nine thatched cottages. Sir Christopher Lowther, second son
of Sir John Lowther, purchased Whitehaven and the lands lying in
its neighbourhood, and built a mansion on the west end of the haven
at the foot of a rock. He died in 1644, and was succeeded by his
son, Sir John Lowther, who erected a new mansion on the site of the
present castle, described by Mr. Denton, in 1688, as a "stately
new pile of building, called the Flatt," and having conceived the
project of working the coal mines, and improving the harbour, he
obtained from Charles the Second, about the year 1666, a grant
of all the "derelict land at this place," which yet remained in
the crown; and in 1678, all the lands for two miles northward,
between high and low water mark, the latter grant containing about
150 acres. Sir John having thus laid the foundation of the future
importance of Whitehaven, commenced his great work, and lived to
see a small obscure village grow up into a thriving and populous
town.

There is a traditionary account of the existence of an ancient ruin
where the castle stands (probably Druidical; or, where at a later
period, the Whitten, or Wittenagemote, was held) the remains of
which were broken up about the year 1628. Respecting these real or
imaginary stones it has been related, that the inhabitants believed
them to be enchanted warriors, and gave them the appellation
of "_Dread Ring_, or _Circle_," and occasionally "_Corpse
Circle_"--corrupted into the word _Corkickle_, the name which the
locality now bears.

A reminiscence of the old mansion of the Lowthers is preserved by
the road which skirts the precincts of the castle. This is still
called, by the older townspeople, the Flatt Walk.

CREWL-WORK.

_Krull_, or _Crewel_, is a word evidently derived from the old
Norse _Krulla_, signifying to blend, to mix, and also to curl; in
fact, "crewel" work is embroidery, the Berlin wool work of modern
days; but the word is generally applied, in this locality, to the
covering of a hand ball with worsted work of various colours and
devices, the tribute of mothers and sisters in our boyhood.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] See Note on page 80.

[4] Advenerat annua revolutione quædam celebritas quam sacro sancto sabbato in vigilia pentecosten homines illius terræ ob quædam insignia sanctitatis sanctæ virginis tunc illic inventa, et signa ibidem perpetrata solent solempnizare; et ecclesiam illius visitando orationum et oblationum hostiis honorare.

Vita S. Begæ, et de Miraculis Ejusdem, p. 73.

HART'S-HORN TREE.

When wild deer ranged the forest free,
Mid Whinfell oaks stood Hart's-Horn Tree;
Which, for three hundred years and more,
Upon its stem the antlers bore
Of that thrice-famous Hart-of-Grease
That ran the race with Hercules.

The King of Scots, to hunt the game
With brave de Clifford southward came:
Pendragon, Appleby, and Brough'm,
Gave all his bold retainers room;
And all came gathering to the chase
Which ended in that matchless race.

Beneath a mighty oak at morn
The stag was roused with bugle horn;
Unleashed, de Clifford's noblest Hound
Rushed to the chase with strenuous bound;
And stretching forth, the Hart-of-Grease
Led off with famous Hercules.

They ran, and northward held their way;
They ran till dusk, from dawning grey;
O'er Cumbrian waste, and Border moor,
Till England's line was speeded o'er;
And Red-kirk on the Scottish ground
Mark'd of their chase the farthest bound.

Then turned they southward, stretching on,
They ran till day was almost gone;
Till Eamont came again in view;
Till Whinfell oaks again they knew;
They ran, and reached at eve the place
Where first began their desperate race.

They panted on, till almost broke
Each beast's strong heart with its own stroke!
They panted on, both well nigh blind,
The Hart before, the Hound behind!
And now will strength the Hart sustain
To take him o'er the pale again?

He sprang his best; that leap has won
His triumph, but his chase is done!
He lies stone dead beyond the bound;
And stretched on this side lies the Hound!
His last bold spring to clear the wall
Was vain; and life closed with his fall.

The steeds had fail'd, squires', knights', and king's,
Long ere the chase reached Solway's springs!
But on the morrow news came in
To Brough'm, amidst the festive din,
How held the chase, how far, how wide
It swerved and swept, and where they died.

Ah! gallant pair! such chase before
Was never seen, nor shall be more:
And Scotland's King and England's Knight
Looked, mutely wondering, on the sight,
Where with that wall of stone between
Lay Hart and Hound stretched on the green.

Then spoke the King--"For equal praise
This hand their monument shall raise!
These antlers from this Oak shall spread;
And evermore shall here be said,
That Hercules killed Hart-of-Grease,
And Hart-of-Grease killed Hercules.

"From Whinfell woods to Red-kirk plain,
And back to Whinfell Oaks again,
Not fourscore English miles would tell!
But"--said the King--"they spann'd it well.
And by my kingdom, I will say
They ran a noble race that day!"--

Then said de Clifford to the King--
"Through many an age this feat shall ring!
But of your Majesty I crave
That Hercules may have his grave
In ground beneath these branches free,
From this day forth called Hart's-Horn Tree."

And there where both were 'reft of life,
And both were victors in the strife,
Survives this saying on that chase,
In memory of their famous race--
"Here Hercules killed Hart-of-Grease,
And Hart-of-Grease killed Hercules."

NOTES TO "HART'S-HORN TREE."

I.--The memorable Westmorland Forest, or Park of Whinfell,
anciently written Qwynnefel, was a grant to Robert de Veteripont
from King John. This grant restrained him from committing waste in
the woods, and from suffering his servants to hunt there in his
absence during the king's life. Till the beginning of last century
it was famous for its prodigious oaks; a trio of them, called The
Three Brothers, were the giants of the forest; and a part of the
skeleton of one of them, called _The Three Brothers' Tree_, which
was thirteen yards in girth, at a considerable distance from the
root, was remaining until within a very recent period.

On the east side of this park is Julian's Bower, famous for its
being the residence of Gillian, or Julian, the peerless mistress of
Roger de Clifford, about the beginning of the reign of Edward III.
The Pembroke memoirs call it "a little house hard by Whinfell-park,
the lower foundations of which standeth still, though all the wall
be down long since." This record also mentions the Three Brother
Tree and Julian's Bower, as curiosities visited by strangers in
the Countess of Pembroke's time, prior to which a shooting seat
had been erected near these ruins, for she tells us, that her
grandson, Mr. John Tufton, and others at one time, "alighted on
their way over _Whinfield_ park at Julian's Bower, to see all the
rooms and places about it." Its hall was spacious, wainscotted,
and hung round with prodigious stags' horns, and other trophies of
the field. One of the rooms was hung with very elegant tapestry;
but since it was converted into a farm-house all these relics of
ancient times have been destroyed.

A large portion of the park was divided into farms in 1767; and
the remainder in 1801, when its deer were finally destroyed. It
was thus stripped of its giant trees, and consigned to its present
unsheltered condition.

II.--A fine oak formerly stood by the way side, near Hornby Hall,
about four miles from Penrith on the road to Appleby, which, from
a pair of stag's horns being hung up in it, bore the name of
Hart's-Horn Tree. It grew within the district which to this day is
called Whinfell Forest. Concerning this tree there is a tradition,
confirmed by Anne, Countess of Pembroke in her memoirs, that a
hart was run by a single greyhound (as the ancient deer hound was
called) from this place to Red-Kirk in Scotland, and back again.
When they came near this tree the hart leaped the park paling, but,
being worn out with fatigue, instantly died; and the dog, equally
exhausted, in attempting to clear it, fell backwards and expired.
In this situation they were found by the hunters, the dog dead on
one side of the paling, and the deer on the other. In memory of
this remarkable chase, the hart's horns were nailed upon the tree,
whence it obtained its name. And as all extraordinary events were
in those days recorded in rhymes, we find the following popular
one on this occasion, from which we learn the name of the dog
likewise:--

Hercules killed Hart-o-Grease,
And Hart-o-Grease killed Hercules.

This story appears to have been literally true, as the Scots
preserve it without any variation, and add that it happened in the
year 1333 or 1334, when Edward Baliol King of Scotland came to hunt
with Robert de Clifford in his domains at Appleby and Brougham, and
stayed some time with him at his castles in Westmorland. In course
of time, it is stated, the horns of the deer became grafted, as it
were, upon the tree, by reason of its bark growing over their root,
and there they remained more than three centuries, till, in the
year 1648, one of the branches was broken off by some of the army,
and ten years afterwards the remainder was secretly taken down by
some mischievous people in the night. "So now," says Lady Anne
Clifford in her Diary, "there is no part thereof remaining, the
tree itself being so decayed, and the bark so peeled off, that it
cannot last long; whereby we may see time brings to forgetfulness
many memorable things in this world, be they ever so carefully
preserved--for this tree, with the hart's horn in it, was a thing
of much note in these parts."

The tree itself has now disappeared; but Mr. Wordsworth, "well
remembered its imposing appearance as it stood, in a decayed state
by the side of the high road leading from Penrith to Appleby."

This remarkable chase must have been upwards of eighty miles, even
supposing the deer to have taken the direct road.

Nicolson and Burn remark, when they tell the story, "So say the
Countess of Pembroke's Memoirs, and other historical anecdotes. But
from the improbable length of the course, we would rather suppose,
that they ran to Nine Kirks, that is the Church of Ninian the
Scottish Saint, and back again, which from some parts of the park
might be far enough for a greyhound to run." These writers have
overlooked the circumstance, that the animal which in those days
was called a greyhound was the ancient deerhound, a large species
of dog having the form of the modern greyhound, but with shaggy
hair and a more powerful frame. The breed is not yet extinct: Sir
Walter Scott's Maida was of the species.

Dr. Burn deals another blow at the tradition; for he goes on
to say, "And _before_ this time there was a place in the park
denominated from the _Hart's horns_; which seem therefore to have
been put up on some former occasion, perhaps for their remarkable
largeness. For one of the bounder marks of the partition aforesaid
between the two daughters of the last Robert de Veteripont is
called _Hart-horn sike_".

III.--Dr. Percy, referring to the expression _hart-o-greece_ in a
verse given below from the old ballad of "Adam Bell," explains it
to mean a fat hart, from the French word _graisse_.

"Then went they down into a lawnde,
These noble archarrs thre;
Eche of them slew a hart of greece,
The best that they cold se."

Clarke, in an appendix to his "Survey of the Lakes," speaking
of the Red Deer which is bred upon the tops of the mountains in
Martindale, gives _Hart of Grease_ as the proper name of the male
in the eighth year.

In Black's "Picturesque Guide to the English Lakes," it is
stated in a note upon this subject, that there is an ancient
broadside proclamation of a Lord Mayor of London, preserved in the
Archiepiscopal Library at Lambeth, in which, after denouncing "the
excessyve and unreasonable pryses of all kyndes of vytayles," it is
ordered that "no citizen or freman of the saide citie shall sell or
cause to be solde," amongst other things, "Capons of grece above
XXd. or Hennes of grece above VIId."

BEKAN'S GHYLL.

Dim shadows tread with elfin pace
The nightshade-skirted road,
Where once the sons of Odin's race
In Bekan's vale abode;
Where, long ere rose Saint Mary's pile,
The vanquish'd horsemen laid
Their idol Wodin, stained and vile,
Beneath the forest's shade.

There hid--while clash of clubs and swords
Resounded in the dell,
To save it from the Briton's hordes
When Odin's warriors fell--
It lay with Bekan's mightiest charms
Of magic on its breast;
While Sorcery, with its hundred arms,
Had sealed the vale in rest.

It woke when fell with sturdy stroke
The Norman axe around,
And builders' hands in fragments broke
The Idol from the ground;

And hewed therefrom that corner stone
Which yet yon tower sustains,
Where Wodin's Moth sits, grim and lone,
And holds the dell in chains.

There youth at love's sweet call oft glides
By cloister, aisle, and nave,
To stop above the stone that hides
The beauteous Fleming's grave:--
Fair flower of Aldingham--the child
Of old Sir William's days,--
Low where the Bekan straggling wild
Its deadly arms displays.

There in the quiet more profound
Than sleep, than death more drear,
Her shadow walks the silent ground
When leaves are green or sere;
When autumn with its cheerless sky
Or winter with its pall,
Puts all the year's fair promise by
With fruits that fade and fall.

And where the Bekan by the rill
So bitter once, now sweet,
Its lurid purples ripens still
While ages onward fleet,
She tastes the deadly flower by night,--
If yet its juices flow
Sweet as of yore; for then to light
And rest her soul shall go.

Ah, blessed forth from far beyond
The Jordan once he came,--
Her Red-cross Knight,--the marriage bond
To twine with love and fame:
His meed of valour, Beauty's charms,
Pledged with one silvery word,
Beneath the forest's branching arms
And by the breezes stirred.

Another week! and she would stand
In Urswick's halls a bride:
Another week! the marriage band
Had round her life been tied:
When wild with joyfulness of heart
That beat not with a care,
She carolled forth alone, to start
The grim Moth from its lair.

She bounded from his heart elate!
But Urswick's halls of light,
And Aldingham's embattled gate
No more shall meet her sight.
For her no happy bridal crowd
Press out into the road,
But Furness monks with dirges loud
Bend round her last abode.

To chase the moth that guards the flower
That makes the dell its own,
Flew forth the maid from hall and tower
Through wood and glen alone.

Where Odin's men had left their god
In earth, long overgrown
With tangled bushes rude, she trod
Enchanted ground unknown.

The abbey walls before her gaze
At distance rising fair,
While deep within the magic maze
She wandered unaware:
She loitered with the song untired
Upon her lips, nor thought
What foes against her peace conspired,
While love his lost one sought!

They found her with close-lidded eyes,
Watched by that Moth unblest,
Perched high between her and the skies,
And nightshade on her breast.
There lay she with her lips apart
In peace; by Wodin's power
Stilled into death her truest heart
With Bekan's lurid flower.

Woe was it when Sir William's hall
Received the mournful train:
No more her voice with sweetest call
His morns to wake again!
No more her merry step to cheer
The days when clouds were wild!
No more her form on palfrey near
When sport his noons beguiled!

Worse woe when Furness monks with dole--
While gentle hands conveyed
Her body--for a parted soul
The solemn ritual said;
And laid her where the waving leaves
Breathed low amidst the calm,
When loud upon the fading eves
Rolled organ-chant and psalm.

With Urswick's hand in fondest grasp
Said Fleming--"Vainly rise
My days for me: my heart must clasp
Her image, or it dies!
Through mass and prayer I hear her voice;
I know the fiends have power--
That chant and dole and choral noise
Can purge not--o'er that flower!"

They wandered where Engaddi's palms
And Sharon's roses wave;
Where Hebrew virgins chant their psalms
By many a mountain cave:
Mid rock-hewn chambers by the Nile,
Where Magian fathers lay;--
The secret of the spell-struck pile
To drag to realms of day.

In vain! His gallant heart sleeps well,
Beneath the Lybian air;
And still the enchantment holds the dell,
And her so sweet and fair.

Still on yon loop hole stretched by night,
The tyrant-moth is laid:
While circling in their ceaseless flight
The ages rise and fade.

There sometimes as in nights of yore,
Heard faint and sweet, a sound
Peals from yon tower, while o'er and o'e
The vale repeats it round.
And down the glen the muffled tone
Floats slowly, long upborne;
Answered as if far off were blown
A warrior's bugle-horn.

Yet one day, with unconscious art,
May some rude hand unfold
Great Wodin's breast, and rend apart
The fragment from its hold.
Then, while the deadly nightshade's veins
In bitter streams shall pour
Their juices, his usurped domains
Shall own the Moth no more.

Then him a milk white swallow's power
Shall timely overthrow.
And fair, as from a beauteous bower,
In raiment like the snow,
The Flower of Aldingham--the child
Of old Sir William's days--
Shall break the bondage round her piled;
But not to meet his gaze.