Chapter V: Part 5

There seems to have been a long hereditary emulation among the
inhabitants of these districts to raise their sons beyond the
situation of their birth; a laudable practice, but one which
until recent times was clouded by a comparative neglect of their
daughters, whose education at the best was very indifferent. Hence
many of these youths have risen to be respectable merchants, whose
early circumstances compelled them to toil for their daily bread,
and to be educated in night schools taught during the winter by a
village schoolmaster, a parish clerk, or some industrious mechanic.
Dr. Todd states, that in his time it was reported that Sir Richard
Whittington, knight, thrice Lord Mayor of London, was born of
poor parents in the parish of Great Salkeld, in East Cumberland;
that he built the church and tower from the foundation; and that
he intended to present three large bells to the parish, which by
some mischance stopped at Kirkby-Stephen on their way to Salkeld.
And a similar tradition is yet current in the neighbourhood. Less
apocryphal, perhaps, is the instance of Richard Bateman, a native
of the township of Staveley, near Windermere; who, being a clever
lad, was sent by the inhabitants to London, and there by his
diligence and industry raised himself from a very humble situation
in his master's house to be a partner in his business, and amassed
a considerable fortune. For some years he resided at Leghorn; but
his end was tragical. It is said, that in his voyage to England,
the captain of the vessel in which he was sailing, poisoned him
and seized the ship and cargo. The pretty little Chapel of Ings,
in the vicinity where he was born, was erected at his expense, and
the slabs of marble with which it is floored were sent by him from
Leghorn. Hodgson states, that he gave twelve pounds a year to the
Chapel, and a thousand pounds more to be applied in purchasing an
estate, and building eight cottages in the Chapelry for the use of
its poor.

In Westmorland and Cumberland, thanks to the piety and local
attachments of our ancestors, endowed, or, as they are more
commonly called, free, schools abound. Grammar schools were
established on the verge of, and even within, the lake district,
prior to the dissolution of monasteries. From these institutions
a host of learned and valuable men were distributed over England;
many of them rose to great eminence in the literary world; and
contributed to the establishment of Schools in the villages
where they were born. Before the conclusion of the 17th century,
seminaries of this kind were commenced in every parish, and in
almost every considerable village; and education to learned
professions, especially to the pulpit, continued the favourite
method of the yeomanry of bringing up their younger sons, till
about the year 1760, when commerce became the high road to wealth,
and Greek and Latin began reluctantly, and by slow gradation, to
give way to an education consisting chiefly in reading, writing,
and arithmetic. Many of this new species of scholars were annually
taken into the employment of merchants and bankers in London, and
several of them into the Excise. The clergyman generally found
preferment at a distance from home, where he settled and died; but
the merchant brought his riches and new manners and habits among
his kindred.

The predilection for ancient literature and the learned
professions seems to have been a kind of instinctive propensity
among the people of these secluded vales. In the grammar schools
the discipline was severe, and the instruction imparted was
respectable. In addition to the endowment, the master's industry
was usually rewarded at Shrovetide with a gift in money or
provisions, proportioned to his desert, and the circumstances of
the donor. This present was called Cock-penny, a name derived from
the master being obliged by ancient usage and the "barring-out"
rules, to give the boys a prize to fight cocks for; which
cock-fighting was held either at Shrovetide or Easter. Indeed this
custom seems to have originated in the care which was taken to
instil into youth a martial and enterprising spirit. This appears
from the founders, in many of the schools, having made half of the
master's salary to depend on the cock-pennies; and if the master
refused to give the customary prize, the scholars withheld the
present. The vacations were at Christmas and Pentecost, for about a
fortnight; and all red-letter days were half-holidays. But between
the former seasons the Barring-out occurred; which consisted in the
boys taking possession of the schoolroom early in the morning,
and refusing the master admittance until he had signed certain
rules for the regulation of the holidays, and a general pardon for
all past offences, demanding a bondsman to the instrument. Then
followed a feast and a day of idleness.

The youths of a neighbourhood, rich and poor, were all educated
together; a circumstance which diffused and kept alive a plain
familiarity of intercourse among all ranks of people, which
inspired the lowest with independence of sentiment, and infused
no insolent or unreal consequence into the wealthy. Thus it was
no unusual thing for the yeoman and the shepherd to enliven their
employments or festivities with recitations from the bucolics of
Virgil, the idyls of Theocrites, or the wars of Troy. A story is
told of the late Mr. John Gunson, a worthy miller, who formerly
kept the Plough Inn, a small public-house near the Church at Ulpha.
Two or three young fellows from a neighbouring town, or, as some
say, a party of students from St. Bees School, being out on a
holiday excursion, called at John's, and after regaling themselves
with his ale, and indulging in a good deal of quizzing and banter
at the landlord's expense, demanded their bill. John in his homely
country dialect, said, "Nay, we niver mak' any bills here, ye hev
so much to pay"--mentioning the sum. "O," replied one of the wags,
"you cannot write: that is the cause of your excuse." John, who had
quietly suffered them to proceed in their remarks, retired, and
in a short time brought them in a bill written out in the Hebrew
language, which it need scarcely be said quite puzzled them. He
then sent them one in Greek, and afterwards in Latin, neither of
which they could make out. They then begged that he would tell
them in plain English what they had to pay. John laughed heartily
at their ignorance, which on this occasion shone as conspicuous as
their impertinence to their learned and unassuming host.

If such was the level upon which the yeomanry stood in an
educational sense, their favourite plan of bringing up their
younger sons to the learned professions, and especially the pulpit,
may account for a saying which is almost proverbial in Cumberland,
"Owt 'll mak' a parson!" meaning thereby that if one of their
sons proved more stupid than another, the church was the proper
destination for him.

In the more secluded valleys the scholars were taught in the
church; the curate, who was also schoolmaster, sitting within the
communion rails, and using the table as a desk, while the children
occupied the pews or the open space beside him.

In the parish register of the last named chapelry is a notice, that
a youth who had quitted the valley, and died in one of the towns
on the coast of Cumberland, had requested that his body should be
brought and interred at the foot of the pillar by which he had been
accustomed to sit while a school-boy.

Teachers of writing and arithmetic also wandered from village to
village, being remunerated by a whittle gate. The churches and
chapels have mostly a little school-house adjoining. In some places
the school-house was a sort of antichapel to the place of worship,
being under the same roof, an arrangement which was abandoned as
irreverent. It continues however to this day in Borrowdale and some
other chapelries.

Superstitious fears were sometimes entertained lest a boy should
_learn too far_. It was usual to consider all schoolmasters as
_wise men_ or conjurors. Wise men were such as had spent their
lives in the pursuit of science, and had _learned too much_.
For conjuration was supposed to be a science which as naturally
followed other parts of learning as compound addition followed
simple addition. The wise man possessed wonderful power. He could
recover stolen goods, either by fetching back the articles,
showing the thief in a black mirror, or making him walk round the
cross on a market day, with the stolen goods on his shoulders.
The last, however, he could not do, if the culprit wore a piece
of _green sod_ upon his head. When any person applied to the
wise man for information, it was necessary for him to reach home
before midnight, as a storm was the certain consequence of the
application, and the applicant ran great risk of being tormented
by the devil all the way home. The wise men were supposed to have
made a compact with the devil, that he was to serve them for a
certain number of years, and then have them, body and soul, after
death. They were compelled to give the devil some living animal
whenever he called upon them, as a pledge that they intended to
give themselves at last. Instances are recorded of boys, in the
master's absence, having got to his books, and raised the devil.
The difficulty was to lay him again. He must be kept employed,
or have one of the boys for the trouble given to him. The broken
flag through which he rose is no doubt shown to this day. Such
superstitions are not so completely exploded in the country, but
that many equally improbable tales are told and believed.

The old register-book of the parish of Penrith, which appears to
have been commenced about the year 1599, contains some entries
of an earlier date, which have been either copied from a former
register, or inserted from memory. The following entries occur:--

"Liber Registerii de Penrith scriptus in anno dni 1599 anno regni
regine Elizabethe 41.

Proper nots worth keeping as followethe.

Floden feild was in anno dni 15....

Comotion in these north parts 1536.

St. George day dyd fall on good friday.

Queene Elizabethe begene her rainge 1558.

Plague was in Penrith and Kendal 1554.

Sollome Mose was in the yere....

Rebellion in the North Partes by the two earls of Northumberland &
Westmorland & leonard Dacres in the year of our lord god 1569 & the
9th day of November.

A sore plague was in London, notinghome Derbie & lincolne in the
year 1593.

A sore plague in new castle, durrome & Dernton in the year of our
lord god 1597.

A sore plague in Richmond Kendal Penrith Carliell Apulbie and other
places in Westmorland and Cumberland in the year of our lord god
1598 of this plague there dyed at Kendal"--a few words more, now
very indistinct, follow, and the remainder of the page is cut or
torn off.

Several records of the ravages committed by the plague in
Cumberland and Westmorland are preserved in the more populous
parts. The following inscription on the wall in Penrith Church is
singular:--

AD MDXCVIII
Ex gravi peste quæ regionibus hisce
incubuit, obierunt apud
Penrith 2260
Kendal 2500
Richmond 2200
Carlisle 1196
Posteri
Avertite vos et vivite
Ezek. 18th ---- 32 ----

From the Register it appears that William Wallis was vicar at the
time; the following entries noting the beginning and end of the
calamity are interesting:--

"1597. 22d of September, Andrew Hodgson, a foreigner, was buried."

"Here begonne the plague (God's punismet in Perith.)"

"All those that are noted with the ltre P. dyed of the infection;
and those noted with F. were buried on the Fell."

"December 13th, 1598, Here ended the visitation."

The fear of infection prevented the continuance of the usual
markets; and places without the town were appointed for purchasing
the provisions brought by the country people.

The Church register in the neighbouring parish of Edenhall takes
notice of 42 persons dying in the same year, of the plague, in that
village.

Some centuries previous to this, in 1380, when the Scots made an
inroad into Cumberland, under the Earl of Douglas, Penrith was
suffering from a visitation of the same nature; they surprised the
place at the time of a fair, and returned with immense booty; but
they introduced into their country the plague contracted in this
town, which swept away one-third of the inhabitants of Scotland.

It is not at all likely that these calamitous visitations were
confined to the towns and villages. Although few traces may be
found of this frightful disease having invaded the more remote and
scattered population of the dales. Records of isolated cases might
easily be lost in the course of ages; and, as mere memorials of
domestic affliction, were not likely to be preserved in families.
Yet tradition has its utterances where purer history fails. On the
side of Lingmoor in Great Langdale, a small stone-fenced enclosure,
a few feet across, of green and shining laurels, indicates a spot
which the pestilence had reached. This bright circular patch of
evergreens is very conspicuous amid the ferns, from the heights
on the opposite side of the valley. On a near approach, the
foundations of what appear to be the remains of an ancient dwelling
may be traced at a little distance from it. Still more distant are
the ruins of one or two deserted cottages, where the sheep pasture
along the base of the mountain. What has been gathered from the
dalespeople about the laurels, so singular in such a spot, is, that
in the time of the great plague in England a woman and her son
occupied a cottage near the place. The youth went from this remote
district, in the spirit of enterprise, to push his fortunes in
London, was smitten by the pestilence, and died. After a time some
clothes and other things belonging to him were sent to his home
among the hills, infected the mother, and spread terror throughout
the neighbourhood. The woman having fallen a victim to the disease,
so great was the dread of the pestilence that the ordinary rites
of burial could not be obtained for her. The body could not be
borne for interment in consecrated ground. It mouldered away, it
is supposed, on the spot which to this day is marked by the little
enclosure of evergreens, a memorial of the fearful visitation in
the lonely dale.

One of the most pleasing characteristics of manners in secluded
and thinly-peopled districts, is a sense of the degree in which
human happiness and comfort are dependent on the contingency of
neighbourhood. This is implied by a rhyming adage common here,
"_Friends are far, when neighbours are nar_" (near). This mutual
helpfulness is not confined to out-of-doors work; but is ready
upon all occasions. Formerly, if a person became sick, especially
the mistress of a family, it was usual for those of the neighbours
who were more particularly connected with the party by amicable
offices, to visit the house, carrying a present; this practice,
which is by no means obsolete, is called _owning_ the family,
and is regarded as a pledge of a disposition to be otherwise
serviceable in a time of disability and distress.

THE VALE OF SAINT JOHN.

The morn was fresh; and ere we won
The famous Valley of Saint John,
For many a rood our thoughts had plann'd
The scenery of that magic land.
We pictured bowers where ladies fair
Had breathed of old enchanted air;
Groves where Sir Knights had uttered vows
To Genii through the silvery boughs;
Piles of the pride of ages gone
Cleft between night and morning's sun,
Or veiled by mighty Merlin's power;
And her, too, Britain's peerless flower--
Her, chained in slumbering beauty fast
While generations rose and pass'd,
Gyneth 'mid the Wizard's dens,
King Arthur's child and Guendolen's!
So, led by many a wandering gleam
From youth and poetry's sweet dream,
We climbed the old created hills,
And cross'd the everlasting rills,
Which lay between us and the unwon
But glorious Valley of Saint John.

The morn was fresh, and bright the sun
Burst o'er the drowsy mountains dun.
A moment's pause for strength renewed,
And we our pleasant march pursued.
Blythely we scaled the steep, surpass'd
By steeps each loftier than the last;
O'er rocks and heaths and wilds we follow
The vapoury path from height to hollow;
And through the winding vale below,
Where yellowing fields with plenty glow;
And, scattered wide and far between,
Lay white-walled farms and orchards green;
The hedge-rows with their verdure crowned
Hemming the little plots of ground;
The happy kine for pastures lowing;
The rivulets through the meadows flowing;
The sunshine glittering on the slopes;
The white lambs on the mountain tops;
No vision and no gleam to call
Enchantment from her airy hall;
But beauty through all seasons won
From Nature and her parent sun,
There brightening as through ages gone,
Lay round us as our hearts sped on
To reach the Valley of Saint John.

The noon was past; the sun's bright ray
Sloped slowly down his westering way
With mellower light; the sobering gleams
Touched Glenderamakin's farthest streams;
Flung all the richness of their charms
Round lonely Threlkeld's wastes and farms:
And high beyond fired with their glow
Blencathra's steep and lofty brow;
When suddenly--as if by power
Of Magic wrought in that bright hour--
Shone out, with all the circumstance
And splendour of restored Romance,
Southwards afar behind us spread,
With its grey fortress at its head,
The Valley, spell-bound as of old,
In all its mingling green and gold;
In all the glory of the time
When Uther's son was in his prime,
And chivalry ranged every clime;
And peaceful as when Gyneth, kept
In Merlin's halls, beneath it slept.
There had we roamed the live-long day
Saint John's fair fields and winding way,
With hearts unconsciously beguiled
By witcheries and enchantment wild!
And not till steps that toiled no more
It's utmost bound had vanish'd o'er,
Knew youth's wild thought our hearts had won,
And thrid the Valley of Saint John.

NOTES TO "THE VALE OF SAINT JOHN."

Near the village of Threlkeld, the road from Keswick to Penrith,
branching off on the right, discloses obliquely to the view, the
Vale of St. John. The well known description of this beautiful
dell by Mr. Hutchinson, who visited it in the year 1773, conferred
upon it a reputation which was greatly increased when the genius
of Scott made it the scene of his tale of enchantment "The Bridal
of Triermain." The interest which it derives from its traditional
connection with the wiles of Merlin, whose magic fortress continues
to attract and elude the gaze of the traveller, is well given in
the words of the former writer.

"We now gained a view of the Vale of St. John's, a very narrow
dell, hemmed in by mountains, through which a small brook makes
many meanderings, washing little enclosures of grass ground,
which stretch up the risings of the hills. In the widest part of
the dale you are struck with the appearance of an ancient ruined
castle, which seems to stand upon the summit of a little mount,
the mountains around forming an amphitheatre. This massive bulwark
shews a front of various towers, and makes an awful, rude, and
Gothic appearance, with its lofty turrets and rugged battlements:
we traced the galleries, the bending arches, the buttresses. The
greatest antiquity stands characterized in its architecture; the
inhabitants near it assert it is an antidiluvian structure.

"The traveller's curiosity is roused, and he prepares to make a
nearer approach, when that curiosity is put upon the rack, by his
being assured that, if he advances, certain genii, who govern
the place, by virtue of their supernatural arts and necromancy
will strip it of all its beauties, and by enchantment transform
the magic walls. The vale seems adapted for the habitation of
such beings; its gloomy recesses and retirements look like the
haunts of evil spirits. There was no delusion in the report; we
were soon convinced of its truth; for this piece of antiquity, so
venerable and noble in its aspect, as we drew near, changed its
figure, and proved no other than a shaken massive pile of rocks,
which stand in the midst of this little vale, disunited from the
adjoining mountains, and have so much the real form and resemblance
of a castle, that they bear the name of _The Castle Rocks of St.
John's_."

The more familiar appellation of this rocky pile among the dalesmen
is _Green Crag_. The approach into the valley from Threlkeld
displays it in the most poetical point of view, and under some
states of atmosphere it requires no stretch of the imagination to
transform its grey perpendicular masses into an impregnable castle,
whose walls and turrets waving with ivy and other parasitical
plants, form the prison of the immortal Merlin.

Other atmospheric effects, which occasionally occur in this
District, have been alluded to elsewhere in these notes; as the
aerial armies seen on Souter Fell, and the Helm Cloud and Bar, with
their accompanying wind, generated upon Cross Fell.

Phenomena of a singular character, which may be ascribed to
reflections from pure and still water in the lakes, have also
attracted observation. Mr. Wordsworth has described two of which
he was an eye-witness. "Walking by the side of Ulswater," says he,
"upon a calm September morning, I saw deep within the bosom of the
lake, a magnificent Castle, with towers and battlements; nothing
could be more distinct than the whole edifice;--after gazing with
delight upon it for some time, as upon a work of enchantment,
I could not but regret that my previous knowledge of the place
enabled me to account for the appearance. It was in fact the
reflection of a pleasure house called Lyulph's Tower--the towers
and battlements magnified and so much changed in shape as not to be
immediately recognised. In the meanwhile, the pleasure house itself
was altogether hidden from my view by a body of vapour stretching
over it and along the hill-side on which it extends, but not so as
to have intercepted its communication with the lake; and hence this
novel and most impressive object, which, if I had been a stranger
to the spot, would, from its being inexplicable, have long detained
the mind in a state of pleasing astonishment. Appearances of this
kind, acting upon the credulity of early ages, may have given birth
to, and favoured the belief in, stories of sub-aqueous palaces,
gardens, and pleasure-grounds--the brilliant ornaments of Romance.

"With this inverted scene," he continues, "I will couple a much
more extraordinary phenomenon, which will shew how other elegant
fancies may have had their origin, less in invention than in the
actual process of nature.

"About eleven o'clock on the forenoon of a winter's day, coming
suddenly, in company of a friend, into view of the Lake of
Grasmere, we were alarmed by the sight of a newly created Island;
the transitory thought of the moment was, that it had been produced
by an earthquake or some convulsion of nature. Recovering from the
alarm, which was greater than the reader can possibly sympathize
with, but which was shared to its full extent by my companion,
we proceeded to examine the object before us. The elevation of
this new island exceeded considerably that of the old one, its
neighbour; it was likewise larger in circumference, comprehending a
space of about five acres; its surface rocky, speckled with snow,
and sprinkled over with birch trees; it was divided towards the
south from the other island by a firth, and in like manner from the
northern shore of the lake; on the east and west it was separated
from the shore by a much larger space of smooth water.

"Marvellous was the illusion! comparing the new with the old
Island, the surface of which is soft, green, and unvaried, I do
not scruple to say that, as an object of sight, it was much the
more distinct. 'How little faith,' we exclaimed, 'is due to one
sense, unless its evidence be confirmed by some of its fellows!
What stranger could possibly be persuaded that this, which we know
to be an unsubstantial mockery, is _really_ so; and that there
exists only a single Island on this beautiful Lake?' At length
the appearance underwent a gradual transmutation; it lost its
prominence and passed into a glimmering and dim _inversion_, and
then totally disappeared;--leaving behind it a clear open area of
ice of the same dimensions. We now perceived that this bed of ice,
which was thinly suffused with water, had produced the illusion, by
reflecting and refracting (as persons skilled in optics would no
doubt easily explain,) a rocky and woody section of the opposite
mountain named Silver-how."

Southey describes a scene that he had witnessed on Derwent Lake,
as "a sight more dreamy and wonderful than any scenery that fancy
ever yet devised for Faery-land. We had walked down," he writes,
"to the lake side, it was a delightful day, the sun shining, and
a few white clouds hanging motionless in the sky. The opposite
shore of Derwentwater consists of one long mountain, which suddenly
terminates in an arch, thus [arch symbol], and through that
opening you see a long valley between mountains, and bounded by
mountain beyond mountain; to the right of the arch the heights
are more varied and of greater elevation. Now, as there was not a
breath of air stirring, the surface of the lake was so perfectly
still, that it became one great mirror, and all its waters
disappeared; the whole line of shore was represented as vividly
and steadily as it existed in its actual being--the arch, the vale
within, the single houses far within the vale, the smoke from the
chimneys, the farthest hills, and the shadow and substance joined
at their bases so indivisibly, that you could make no separation
even in your judgment. As I stood on the shore, heaven and the
clouds seemed lying under me; I was looking down into the sky, and
the whole range of mountains, having the line of summits under my
feet, and another above me, seemed to be suspended between the
firmaments. Shut your eyes and dream of a scene so unnatural and so
beautiful. What I have said is most strictly and scrupulously true;
but it was one of those happy moments that can seldom occur, for
the least breath stirring would have shaken the whole vision, and
at once unrealised it. I have before seen a partial appearance, but
never before did, and perhaps never again may, lose sight of the
lake entirely; for it literally seemed like an abyss of sky before
me, not fog and clouds from a mountain, but the blue heaven spotted
with a few fleecy pillows of cloud, that looked placed there for
angels to rest upon them."

THE LUCK OF EDENHALL.

The martial Musgraves sheathed the sword,
And held in peace sweet Edenhall.
For never that house or that house's lord
May evil luck or mischance befal,
While their crystal chalice can soundly ring,
Or sparkle brim-full at St. Cuthbert's spring.

Rude warlike men were the race of old:
And seldom with priest of holy rood
Or penance discoursed their knights so bold,
Who won them the Forest of Inglewood.
For better lov'd they to grasp the spear,
Than beads to count or masses to hear.

There came a bright Lady from over the sea,
Once to look on their youthful heir.
Saintly and like a spirit was she;
And sweetest words did her tongue declare;
When filling a beautiful glass to the brim
At St. Cuthbert's Well, she gave it to him.

Radiant and rare--from her garment's hem
To her shining forehead, all dazzling o'er,
As of crystal and gold and enamel the gem
Of sparkling light from the fount she bore--
Her snow-white fingers unringed she spread
On the gallant young Musgrave's lordly head.

With his ruby lips he touch'd the glass,
And quaff'd off the crystal draught within.
"From thee and from thine if ever shall pass
The pledge of this hour, shall their doom begin.
Whenever that cup shall break or fall,
Farewell the luck of Edenhall!"

While marvelling much at so fair a sight,
And wooing a vision so sweet to stay,
Like a vanishing dream of the closing night
Within the dark Forest she pass'd away;
And left him musing, with senses dim,
On the gifts the bright chalice had brought to him.

He clasped it close, and he turn'd it o'er;
Within and without its form survey'd;
Till the deeds and thoughts of his sires of yore
Seem'd to him like rust on a goodly blade.
And the more the glass in his hands he turned,
The more for a nobler life he yearned.

And there on the verge of the Forest, where stood
The Hall for ages, he vow'd to be
The servant of Him who died on the Rood,
And lay in the Tomb of Arimathee;
And to drink of that cup at the Holy Well.
So wrought within him the Lady's spell.

And down the twilight came on his thought;
And sleep fell on him beneath the trees;
When an errand for water the butler brought
To the spot, where around the slumberer's knees
The envious fairies, a glittering band,
Were loosing the cup from his slackening hand.

He scared them forth: and in fierce despite
They mocked, and mowed, and sang in his ear,--
"See you yon horsemen along the height?
They had harried the Hall had'st thou not come near.
Whenever that cup shall break or fall,
Farewell the luck of Edenhall."

And the martial lords of Edenhall
They kept their cup with enamel and gold
Where never the goblet could break or fall,
Or fail its measure of luck to hold;
That birth or bridal, beneath its sway,
Might never befal on an evil day;

And land and lordship stretching wide,
And honour and worship might still be theirs;
As long as that cup, preserved with pride,
Should be honoured and prized by Musgrave's heirs:
The goblet the Lady from over the wave
To their sire in the Forest of Inglewood gave.

It has sparkled high o'er the cradled babe:
It has pledged the bride on her nuptial day:
It has bless'd their lips at life's last ebb,
With its sacred juice to cleanse the clay.
For the touch the bright Lady left on its brim
Can give light to the soul when all else is dim.

Long prosper the luck of that noble line.
May never the Musgrave's name decay.
And to crown their board, when the goblets shine,
May the crystal chalice be found alway!
For Whenever that cup shall break or fall,
Farewell the luck of Edenhall!

NOTES TO "THE LUCK OF EDENHALL."

The curious ancient drinking glass, called the Luck of Edenhall,
on the preservation of which, according to popular superstition,
the prosperity of the Musgrave family depends, is well known from
the humourous parody on the old ballad of Chevy Chase, commonly
attributed to the Duke of Wharton, but in reality composed by
Lloyd, one of his jovial companions, which begins,

"God prosper long from being broke
The Luck of Edenhall."

The Duke, after taking a draught, had nearly terminated "the Luck
of Edenhall;" but fortunately the butler caught the cup in a napkin
as it dropped from his grace's hands. It is understood that it is
no longer subjected to such risks. It is now generally shown with
a damask cloth securely held by the four corners beneath it, which
for this purpose is deposited along with the vessel in a safe place
where important family documents are preserved.

Not without good reason do the Musgraves look with superstitious
regard to its careful preservation amongst them. The present
generation could, it is said, tell of disasters following swift
and sure upon its fall, in fulfilment of the omen embodied in the
legend attached to it.

The vessel is of a green coloured glass of Venice manufacture of
the 10th century, ornamented with foliage of different colours
in enamel and gold; it is about seven inches in height and about
two in diameter at the base, from which it increases in width and
terminates in a gradual curve at the brim where it measures about
four inches. It is carefully preserved in a stamped leather case,
ornamented with scrolls of vine leaves, and having on the top, in
old English characters, the letters I. H. C.; from which it seems
probable that this vessel was originally designed for sacred uses.
The covering is said to be of the time of Henry VI. or Edward IV.
The glass is probably one of the oldest in England.

The tradition respecting this vessel is connected with the still
current belief, that he who has courage to rush upon a fairy
festival, and snatch from them their drinking cup or horn, shall
find it prove to him a cornucopia of good fortune or plenty, if
he can bear it safely across a running stream. The goblet still
carefully preserved in Edenhall is supposed to have been seized at
a banquet of the elves, by one of the ancient family of Musgrave;
or, as others say, the butler, going to fetch water from St.
Cuthbert's Well, which is near the hall, surprised a company of
fairies who were dancing on the green, near the spring, where they
had left this vessel, which the butler seized, and on his refusal
to restore it, they uttered the ominous words,--

"Whenever this cup shall break or fall,
Farewell the luck of Edenhall."

The name of the goblet was taken from the prophecy. There is
no writing to shew how it came into the family, nor any record
concerning it. Its history rests solely on the tradition. Dr.
Todd supposes it to have been a chalice, when it was unsafe to
have those sacred vessels made of costlier metals, on account
of the predatory habits which prevailed on the borders. He also
says, that the bishops of this diocese permitted not only the
parochial or secular, but also the monastic or regular clergy, to
celebrate the eucharist in chalices of that clear and transparent
metal. The following was one of the canons made in the reign of
king Athelstan:--_Sacer calix fusilis sit, non ligneus_--_Let the
holy chalice be fusile, and not of wood, which might imbibe the
consecrated wine._

William of Newbridge relates how one of these drinking-vessels,
called elfin goblets, came into the possession of King Henry
the First. A country-man belonging to a village near his own
birthplace, returning home late at night, and tipsy, from a visit
to a friend in a neighbouring village, heard a sound of merriment
and singing within a hill; and peeping through an open door in the
side of the hill, he saw a numerous company of both sexes feasting
in a large and finely lighted hall. A cup being handed to him by
one of the attendants, he took it, threw out the contents, and made
off with his booty, pursued by the whole party of revellers, from
whom he escaped by the speed of his mare, and reached his home in
safety. The cup, which was of unknown material and of unusual form
and colour was presented to the king.

At Muncaster Castle there is preserved an ancient glass vessel
of the basin form, about seven inches in diameter, ornamented
with some white enamelled mouldings; which, according to family
tradition, was presented by King Henry VI. to Sir John Pennington,
Knight, who was steadily attached to that unfortunate monarch, and
whom he had the honour of entertaining at Muncaster Castle, in
his flight from the Yorkists. In acknowledgment of the protection
he had received, the King is said to have presented his host with
this curious glass cup with a prayer that the family should ever
prosper, and never want a male heir, so long as they preserved it
unbroken: hence the cup was called "the luck of Muncaster." The
Hall contains, among other family pictures, one representing "King
Henry VI. giving to Sir John Pennington, on his leaving the Castle
1461, the luck of Muncaster."

It is probable that the king was here on two occasions; the first
being after the battle of Towton, in 1461, when accompanied by his
queen and their young son, with the dukes of Exeter and Somerset,
he fled with great precipitation into Scotland: the second, after
the battle of Hexham, which was fought on the 15th of May, 1463. On
his defeat at Hexham, some friends of the fugitive king took him
under their protection, and conveyed him into Lancashire. During
the period that he remained in concealment, which was about twelve
months, the king visited Muncaster. On this occasion the royal
visit appears to have been attended with very little of regal pomp
or ceremony. Henry, having made his way into Cumberland, with only
one companion arrived at Irton Hall soon after midnight; but his
quality being unknown, or the inmates afraid to receive him, he
was denied admittance. He then passed over the mountains towards
Muncaster, where he was accidentally met by some shepherds at three
o'clock in the morning, and was conducted by them to Muncaster
Castle. The spot where the meeting took place is still indicated by
a tall steeple-like monument on an eminence at some distance from
the castle.

The "luck of Burrell Green," at the house of Mr. Lamb, yeoman,
in Great Salkeld, Cumberland, is less fragile in structure, is
not less venerated for its traditional alliance with the fortunes
of its possessors than the lordly cups of the Penningtons and
Musgraves. It is an _ancient_ brass dish resembling a shield, with
an inscription round it, now nearly effaced. Like the celebrated
glass of Edenhall, this too has its legend and couplet, the latter
of which runs thus:--

"If this dish be sold or gi'en,
Farewell the luck of Burrell Green."

When Ranulph de Meschines had received the grant of Cumberland from
William the Conqueror, he made a survey of the whole county, and
gave to his followers all the frontiers bordering on Scotland and
Northumberland, retaining to himself the central part between the
east and west mountains, "a goodly great forest, full of woods,
red deer and fallow, wild swine, and all manner of wild beasts."
This Forest of Inglewood comprehends all that large and now fertile
tract of country, extending westward from Carlisle to Westward,
thence in a direct line through Castle Sowerby and Penrith to the
confluence of the Eamont and the Eden, which latter river then
forms its eastern boundary all the way northward to Carlisle,
forming a sort of triangle, each side of which is more than twenty
miles in length. The Duke of Devonshire, as lord of the Honour of
Penrith, has now paramount authority over the manors of Inglewood
Forest.

The Forest, or Swainmote, court, for the seigniory, is held
yearly, on the feast of St. Barnabas the apostle (June 11.) in
the parish of Hesket-in-the-Forest, in the open air, on the great
north road to Carlisle; and the place is marked by a stone placed
before an ancient thorn, called _Court-Thorn_. The tenants of
more than twenty mesne manors attend here, from whom a jury for
the whole district is empanelled and sworn; and Dr. Todd says,
that the chamberlain of Carlisle was anciently foreman. Here are
paid the annual dues to the lord of the forest, compositions for
improvements, purprestures, agistments, and puture of the foresters.

Until the year 1823, there was an old oak on Wragmire Moss, well
known as _the last tree of Inglewood Forest_, which had survived
the blasts of 700 or 800 winters. This "time-honored" oak was
remarkable, not only for the beauty of the wood, which was marked
in a similar manner to satin-wood, but as being a boundary mark
between the manors of the Duke of Devonshire and the Dean and
Chapter of Carlisle, as also between the parishes of Hesket and St.
Cuthbert's, Carlisle; and was noticed as such for upwards of 600
years. This oak, which had weathered so many hundred stormy winters
was become considerably decayed in its trunk. It fell not, however,
by the tempest or the axe, but from sheer old age on the 13th of
June, 1823. It was an object of great interest, being the veritable
last tree of Inglewood Forest: under whose spreading branches may
have reposed victorious Edward I., who is said to have killed 200
bucks in this ancient forest; and, perhaps at a later period, "John
de Corbrig, the poor hermit of Wragmire," has counted his beads
beneath its shade.

On the same day on which this tree fell, Mr. Robert Bowman, who was
born at Hayton, in 1705, died at Irthington, at the extraordinary
age of 117 years and 8 months, retaining his faculties till about
three months before his death. He lived very abstemiously, was
never intoxicated but once in his life, and at the age of 111, used
occasionally to assist his family at their harvest work. The last
forty years of his life were spent at Irthington, and in his 109th
year he walked to and from Carlisle, being 14 miles, in one day.

The most remarkable instance of longevity in a native of Cumberland
is that of John Taylor, born at Garragill in the parish of Aldston
moor. He went underground to work in the lead mines at eleven years
of age. He was fourteen or fifteen at the time of the great solar
eclipse, called in the North _mirk Monday_, which happened 29th of
March, 1652. From that time till 1752, except for two years, during
which he was employed in the mint at Edinburgh, he wrought in the
mines at Aldston, at Blackhall in the Bishoprick of Durham, and in
various parts of Scotland. His death happened sometime in the year
1772, in the neighbourhood of Moffat, near the Leadhills mines, in
which he had been employed several years. He worked in the mines
till he was about 115. At the time of his decease he must have been
135 years of age.

The Rev. George Braithwaite, who died, curate of St. Mary's
Carlisle, in 1753, at the age of 110, is said to have been a member
of the Cathedral, upwards of one hundred years, having first become
connected with the establishment as a chorister.

In Cumberland the prevalence of longevity seems to be confined to
no particular district: the parishes which border on the fells
on the east side of the county, are rather more remarkable for
longevity than those on the Western coast: but there is little
difference except in the large towns.

A list of remarkable instances of longevity, chiefly taken from
the registers of burials in the several parishes in Cumberland, is
given in Lyson's Magna Britannia. It embraces the period between
1664 and 1814 inclusive, and gives the date, name, parish, and age
of each individual. In that space of 150 years, the list comprises
144 individuals ranging from 100 to 113 years of age. Seventy were
males, seventy-four were females.

The number of persons in Cumberland who have reached from 90 to
99 years inclusive, since the ages have been noted in the parish
registers is above 1120: of these about one fourth have attained or
exceeded the age of 95 years.

HOB-THROSS.

Millom's bold lords and knights of old
Quaff'd their mead from cups of gold.
A lordly life was theirs, and free,
With revel and joust and minstrelsy.
Their fields were full, and their waters flow'd;
On a hundred steeds their warriors rode:
And glorious still as their line began,
It broaden'd out as it onward ran.

Millom's proud courts had page and groom,
To serve in hall, to wait in room;
Maid and squire in fair array:
But better than these, at close of day--
Better than groom or page in hall,
Than maid and squire, that came at a call,
Was the Goblin Fiend, that shunn'd their sight,
And wrought for the lords of Millom by night.

When sleepy maidens left their fires,
Hob-Thross forth from barns and byres
Came tumbling in, and stretching his form
Out over the hearthstone bright and warm,
He folded his stunted thumbs, to dream
For an idle hour ere he sipp'd his cream;
Or smoothed his wrinkled visage to gaze
On his hairy length at the kindly blaze.

His snipp'd brown bowl of creamy store
Set nightly--nothing Hob wanted more.
He scoured, and delved, and groom'd, and churned;
But favour or hire he scorned and spurned.
Leave him alone to will and to do,
Never were hand and heart so true.
Tempt him with gift, or lay out his hire--
Farewell Hob to farm and fire.

Blest the manor, and blest the lord,
That had Hob to work by field and board!
Blest the field, and blest the farm,
That Hob would keep from waste and harm!
Or ever a wish was fairly thought,
Hob was ready, and all was wrought;
Was grain to be cut, or housed the corn,
All was finish'd 'twixt night and morn.

Millom's great lords rode round their land
With courteous speech and bounteous hand.
Hob-Thross too went forth to roam;
Made every hearth in Millom his home.
He thresh'd the oats, he churn'd the cream,
He comb'd the manes of the stabled team,
And fodder'd them well with corn and hay,
When the lads were laggards at peep of day.

Millom's good lord said--"Nights are cool;
Weave Hob a coat of the finest wool.
Service long he has tender'd free:
Of the finest wool his hood shall be."--
For his service good, in that ancient hold,
To them and to theirs for ages told,
They wove him a coat of the finest wool,
And a hood to wrap him when nights were cool.

It broke his peace, and he could not stay.
Hob took the clothes and went his way.
He wrapp'd him round and he felt him warm:
But his life at Millom lost all its charm.
Night and day there was heard a wail
In his ancient haunts, through wind and hail,--
"Hob has got a new coat and new hood,
And Hob no more will do any good."

Blight and change pass'd over the place.
Came to end that ancient race.
Millom's great lords were found alone
Stretch'd in chancels, carved in stone.
Gone to dust was all their power;
Spiders wove in my lady's bower.
While Hob in his coat and hood of green
Went wooing by night the Elfin Queen.

Call him to field, or wish him in stall,
Hob-Thross answers no one's call.
The snipp'd brown bowls of cream in vain
On the hearths he loved are placed again.
The old and glorious days are flown.
Hob is too proud or lazy grown;
Or he goes in his coat and his hood of green
By night a-wooing the Elfin Queen.

NOTES TO "HOB-THROSS."

The lords of Millom are connected with an ancient legend of
Egremont Castle, which is given elsewhere, and which especially
alludes to the horn and hatterell which they bore on their helmets.
This crest is said to have been assumed in the time of Henry I., on
the occasion of the grant of this seignory by the Lord of Egremont
to Godard de Boyvill or Boisville, whose descendants retained
possession of the greater part of it for about one hundred years
when it became vested by marriage in Sir John Hudleston, whose
pedigree is alleged to be traceable for five generations before
the Conquest. In this family it remained for about five hundred
years, when, for failure of male issue it was sold to Sir James
Lowther, nearly a century ago. The names of the first possessors
are now almost forgotten in their own lands. The castle is of
great antiquity. It is uncertain at what date it was originally
built; but it was fortified and embattled by Sir John Hudleston,
in 1335. In ancient times it was surrounded by a fine park, of
which there are some scanty remains on a ridge to the north. The
great square tower is still habitable, though its old battlements
are gone. The castle was invested during the parliamentary war,
and the old vicarage house was pulled down at the same time, "lest
the rebels should take refuge there." There are traces of the
ancient moat still visible. Between the broken pillars of an old
gateway, an avenue leads to the front of the ruin, which, though
not of great extent, presents a fine specimen of the decayed pomp
of early times. The walls of the court yard are all weather-stained
and worn; and, here and there, delicate beds of moss have crept
over them, year after year, so long, that the moist old stones are
now matted with hues of great beauty. The front of the castle is
roofless, and some parts of the massive walls are thickly clothed
with ivy. A fine flight of worn steps leads up through the archway,
to the great tower, in the inner court. Above the archway a stone
shield bears the decayed heraldries of the Hudleston family; and
these arms appear, also, on a slab in the garden wall, and in other
parts of the buildings. The front entrance of the great tower,
from the inner court, when open, shews within a fine old carved
staircase, which leads one to suppose that the interior may retain
many of its ancient characteristics.

The church is a venerable building, with its quaint little turret,
containing two bells. The edifice consists of a nave and chancel, a
south aisle, and a modern porch on the same side. The aisle was the
burial place of the Hudlestons. Here is an altar-tomb, ornamented
with Gothic tracery and figures bearing shields of arms, on which
recline the figures of a knight and his lady, in alabaster, very
much mutilated. The knight is in plate armour, his head resting on
a helmet, and having a collar of S.S.; the lady is dressed in a
long gown and mantle, with a veil. They appear to have originally
been painted and gilt, but the greater part of the colouring has
been rubbed off. Near the altar-tomb are the very mutilated remains
of a knight, carved in wood, apparently of the fourteenth century.
A few years ago there was a lion at his feet. A mural marble tablet
to the memory of the Hudleston family is on the wall of the aisle.

The lordship of Millom is the largest seignory within the barony
of Egremont; its ancient boundaries being described as the river
Duddon on the east, the islands of Walney and Piel de Foudray
on the south, the Irish Sea on the west, and the river Esk and
the mountains Hardknot and Wrynose on the north. It anciently
enjoyed great privileges: it was a special jurisdiction into which
the sheriff of the county could not enter: its lords had the
power of life and death, and enjoyed _jura regalia_ in the six
parishes forming their seignory, namely, Millom, Bootle, Whicham,
Whitbeck, Corney, and Waberthwaite. Mr. Denton, writing in 1688,
says that the gallows stood on a hill near the Castle, on which
criminals had been executed within the memory of persons then
living. To commemorate the power anciently possessed by the lords
of this seignory, a stone has recently been erected with this
inscription--"Here the Lords of Millom exercised Jura Regalia."

This lordship still retains its own coroner.

A small nunnery of Benedictines formerly existed within this
seignory, at Lekely in Seaton, which lies westward from Bootle,
near the sea. The precise date of its foundation cannot be
ascertained: but it appears to have taken place on or before the
time of Henry Boyvill, the fourth lord of Millom, who lived about
the commencement of the thirteenth century; and who "gave lands
in Leakley, now called Seaton, to the nuns;" and who in the deed
of feofment of the manor of Leakley made by the said Henry to
Goynhild, his daughter, on her marriage with Henry Fitz-William,
excepts "the land in Leakley which I gave to the holy nuns serving
God and Saint Mary in Leakley."

The nunnery was dedicated to St. Leonard; and was so poor that it
could not sufficiently maintain the prioress and nuns. Wherefore
the Duke of Lancaster, afterwards Henry IV., by his charter, in
1357, granted to them in aid the hospital of St. Leonard, at
Lancaster, with power to appoint the chantry priest to officiate in
the said hospital. At the dissolution the possessions of the priory
were only of the annual value of £12 12s. 6d. according to Dugdale,
or £13 17s. 4d. by Speed's valuation.

When at the suppression of Abbeys it came to the crown, Henry VIII.
gave the site and lands at Seaton to his servant Sir Hugh Askew,
and his heirs. This Knight was descended from Thurston de Bosco,
who lived in the days of King John at a place then called the
Aikskeugh, or Oakwood, near Millom, and afterwards at Graymains,
near Muncaster; and from a poor estate was raised to great honour
and preferment, by his service to King Henry VIII. in his house
and in the field. Anne Askew, whose name stands so eminent in the
annals of martyrology, was one of his descendants.