Chapter VII: Part 7

So it chanced as she robed on one morning her bloom
With a mantle of state, in her lost Lady's room;
While the mirror gave back to her sight all her charms;
Came that strain to her lip as she folded her arms--
"Who knows what may happen, or what may befall?
I may be--Lady of Workington Hall!"

Thus the wild-hearted Maid ended gaily the song.
Like a flash from the mirror it glanced from her tongue,
Void of meaning or thought of the future; but lo!
There's a witness beside her the glass does not show.
From a distance unseen are displayed to the eyes
Of her Lord all her pranks in that courtly disguise.

He charged the proud Butler, that evening to call
To high feast all the maidens and grooms of the Hall;
To send round the bowl, and when mirth flowing high
Brought the heart to the lip, the bright soul to the eye,
At the sound of his footstep to crown their good cheer
With a round to the toast he has breathed in his ear.

Bold and stern, on that evening arose mid the crowd
The bold Butler, and called for a bumper aloud:
Look'd around on the bevy of maidens and men:
Glanced his eye past the Beauty, and spoke out again--
"Who knows what may happen, or what may befall?
Let us drink to the Lady of Workington Hall."

How they stared at each other, how glanced at their Lord,
As he entered that moment and stood by the board,
How they trembled to witness his eye's flashing ray,
Was a sight to be seen that no art can portray.
But the one conscious Maid who could read it alone,
With a shriek, like a vanishing spirit was gone.

But in vain! What the fates have determined will come!
And in time, tired of clangour of trumpet, and drum,
Came the Heir to the Hall of his ancestry old;
Met the Maid of the pitcher once more as he stroll'd;
Woo'd and won her, in spite of whate'er might befall;
And made her the Lady of Workington Hall.

NOTES TO "THE LADY OF WORKINGTON HALL."

The ancient family of the Curwens of Workington can trace their
descent to Ivo de Tailbois and Elgiva daughter of Ethelred, King
of England. Ivo came to England with the Conqueror, was the
first lord of the barony of Kendal, and brother of Fulk, Earl of
Anjou and King of Jerusalem. Ketel, the grandson of Ivo, had two
sons;--Gilbert, the father of William de Lancaster, from whom
descended, in a direct line, the barons of Kendal; and Orme, from
whom descended the Curwens. These took their surname by agreement
from Culwen, a family of Galloway, whose heir they married. It
is said, that Culwen, which is on the seacoast of Galloway, had
its name from a neighbouring rock, which was thought to resemble
a white monk; that being the meaning of the word in the Irish
language. It is also said, that the family name was changed to
Curwen, by a corruption, which first appeared in the public records
in the reign of King Henry VI. Orme having espoused Gunilda,
sister of Waldieve, first lord of Allerdale, received in marriage
with her the manor of Seaton below Derwent, and took up his abode
there. Their son, Gospatrick, received the manors of Workington and
Lamplugh from William de Lancaster in exchange for Middleton, in
Westmorland. He was succeeded by his son Thomas, who became lord of
Culwen in Galloway, and died in 1152, and was buried in the Abbey
of Shap, to which he had been a benefactor; his estates descending
to his second son, Patric de Culwen, who removed his residence from
Seaton to Workington, where his descendants have since remained.

Sir Thomas Curwen, the seventh in descent from Patric, died in
the thirty fourth year of Henry VIII. In reference to this member
of the family, Sandford in his M.S. History of Cumberland relates
an instance of the pleasant manner in which conventual property
at the dissolution was dealt with, and disposed of, among that
monarch's favourites and friends. It is thus given:--"Sir Tho.
Curwen Knight in Henry the Eight's time, an excellent archer at
twelve score merks: And went up with his men to shoote with that
reknowned King at the dissolution of abbeis: And the King says
to him, Curwen, why doth thee begg none of thes Abbeis: I wold
gratifie the some way: Quoth the other, thank yow, and afterward
said he wold desire of him the Abbie of ffurness (nye unto him)
for 20 ty one years: Sayes the King, take it for ever: Quoth the
other, its long enough, for youle set them up againe in that time:
But they not likely to be set up againe, this Sir Tho. Curwen sent
Mr. Preston who had married his daughter to renew the lease for
him; and he even renneued in his owne name; which when his father
in law questioned, quoth Mr. Preston, yow shall have it as long as
yow live: and I thinke I may as well have it with your daughter as
another."[8]

There is probably some truth in the anecdote, related by Sandford.
For it is said by West, that not long after the dissolution of
Monasteries, Thomas Preston, of Preston-Patrick and Levens,
purchased the site and immediate grounds of Furness Abbey from the
trustees of the crown, with other considerable estates to the value
of £3000 a year: after which he removed from Preston-Patrick, and
resided at the Abbey, in a manor house built on the spot where the
Abbot's apartments stood. Of his two sons, John the elder married
the daughter of Curwen. His descendants were called Prestons of the
Abbey, and of the Manor; and continued for four generations, when
the two great grandsons of the purchaser died without issue. The
family of Christopher, his second son, were known as the Prestons
of Holker. Of these, Catharine, the fifth in the direct line from
Christopher, was the mother of Sir Thomas Lowther, Baronet, of
Yorkshire, to whom on the failure of the elder branch, the property
of the Prestons in Furness was granted by George the First. This
gentleman, by his marriage with the Lady Elizabeth Cavendish,
daughter of the Duke of Devonshire, had an only son and heir, Sir
William Lowther, Baronet, the last descendant of the Prestons of
Preston-Patrick, who died unmarried in 1756, bequeathing all his
estates in Furness and Cartmel to his cousin Lord George Augustus
Cavendish, through whom they passed by inheritance to the present
Duke of Devonshire.

In a report to the government of Queen Elizabeth, of the date of
1588, inserted among the Burghley Papers, the son and heir of
this sharp-handed son-in-law of Curwen is mentioned in somewhat
detractory terms, in a passage which describes "the Pylle of
Folder," or Pile of Fouldrey. "The same Pylle is an old decayed
castell of 'the dowchie of Lancaster, in Furness Felles, where
one Thomas Preestone (a Papyshe Atheiste) is depute steward, and
comaunders the menrede and lands ther, which were sometime members
appertayninge to the Abbeye of Furnes.'"

Workington Hall, the seat of the Curwens, is a large quadrangular
building, with battlemented parapets, situated on a woody acclivity
over looking the river Derwent, at the east end of the town. It has
been almost entirely rebuilt within the present century. The old
mansion was castellated pursuant to the royal license granted by
Richard II., in 1379, to Sir Gilbert de Culwen. It is remarkable
for having been the first prison-house of the unfortunate Mary of
Scotland, after she had landed within the dominions of her rival.
Having left the Scottish shore in a small fishing boat, she landed
with about twenty attendants near the Hall on Sunday, May 16th,
1568; and was received by Sir Henry Curwen as became her rank and
misfortunes, and hospitably entertained by him, till she removed to
Cockermouth, on her route to Carlisle. The apartment in which the
Queen had slept was long preserved, out of respect to her memory,
as she had left it. But some recent alterations of the mansion
having become necessary, it was found that these could not be
effected without the destruction of that portion which had been so
long distinguished as the Queen's Chamber.

Mr. Denton, who wrote about the year 1676, says, "I do not know any
seat in all Britain so commodiously situated for beauty, plenty,
and pleasure as this is." And Mr. Sandford, who wrote about the
same time, has the following rapturous description, "And a very
fair mansion-house and pallace-like; a court of above 60 yards long
and 40 yards broad, built round about; garretted turret-wise, and
toors in the corner; a gate house, and most wainscot and gallery
roomes; and the brave prospect of seas and ships almost to the
house, the tides flowing up. Brave orchards, gardens, dovecoats,
and woods and grounds in the bank about, and brave corn fields and
meadows below, as like as Chelsay fields. And now the habitation
of a brave young Sq. his father Monsir Edward Curwen, and his
mother the grandchild of Sir Michael Wharton o' th' Wolds in
Yorkshire."

Even Mr. Gilpin, a century later, was struck with "its hanging
woods and sloping lawns," and speaks of its situation as "one of
the grandest and most beautiful in the country."

The anecdote upon which the poem is founded was related by a person
who about fifty years ago was much acquainted with what was current
in some of the principal families in the West of Cumberland. She
stated that it was commonly repeated among the servants of the
different houses, and was quite credited by them: and that she
herself had not any doubt as to the truth of the story, but could
not give the period to which the circumstances refer.

One of the domestics of the Hall was said to have been surprised by
her master in the manner described, and to have been overheard by
him, uttering the words,--

"Who knows what may happen, or what may befall?
I may be Lady of Workington Hall!"

The butler was instructed to repeat the words publicly in the
presence of the Maid, who fled from the mansion, overwhelmed with
confusion. She subsequently formed a matrimonial alliance with a
principal member of the family; and thus in a manner her prediction
was verified.

Such was the story, and such the narrator. It may be added, that
the published notices of the family are devoid of anything to
give confirmation to the story; but as it was related in the
neighbourhood in the spirit alluded to, a place has been given to
it among the traditions of Cumberland.

FOOTNOTE:

[8] "John Preston of the Manor in Furness, Esquire, married Margaret daughter of Sir Thos. Curwen, of Workington, and had issue, tempore Henry VIII."

THE ALTAR ON CROSS-FELL.
(FORMERLY FIENDS'-FELL.)

Come listen and hear of the Fiends'-Fell dread;
And the helm of storm that shrouds its head,
When the imps and cubs of Evil that tread
Its summit, their strifes are waging:
Who made their haunt on its topmost height,
And down the valleys came often by night,
To affright the Shepherds, the herds to blight,
And set the strong winds raging.

Ah, dwellers in peaceful vales afar!
The cloudy Helm and the dismal Bar--
You know whose work on the Fell they are;
And you know whose wort they are brewing.
And you wish that the saintly Augustine
A warier man on his errand had been,
When the lizard crept into his chalice unseen,
The power of his spells undoing.

For he came, by good men sought, they say,
To the Fiends'-Fell foot, a weary way,
To chase the fiends from the cloud that lay
On its summit, as if to hide it.
At an hour unmarked, by paths unknown,
He climbed up the mountain side alone,
And built on the top an altar of stone,
And reared the cross beside it.

And there within that mighty cloud,
Where wrathful spirits were raging loud,
The old good man, with mind unbow'd,
But body so oft-times bending,
Moved to and fro on the haunted top,
And gathered the stones from off the slope,
Nor bated a jot of heart or hope
While the Altar pile was ascending.

Then while the sun made bright below
And warmed the vales with its cheerful glow,
The mighty cloud began to blow,
And deafening cries flew round him.
But still the altar on high begun
With heart and will, from his labours done
The crowning recompence now has won
For him, to that end who bound him.

There stands the Altar the saint before.
The long laborious task is o'er.
The Cross which once the victim bore,
It too spreads wide its arms.
The Chalice is there with the juice divine;
The wafer that bares the sacred sign;
And the tapers beside the Cross to shine;
To work out the counter-charms.

All ready beside the holy man
Stood--when for a moment his eyes began
To droop, and a feeling of slumber ran
Through his veins oppress'd and weary.
For toil an old man's limbs will shake:
And toil an old man's frame will break:
But, that instant past, he stands awake
Within that cloud so dreary.

It was enough: No counter-charm
Might work that day the fiend-cubs harm.
The Chalice he offers with outstretched arm
Has a reptile form within it!
And neither the saint nor the wine has power
To banish one fiend from the Fell, that hour:
For a lizard the edge of the chalice crept o'er,
While he slept but that tithe of a minute.

Then blew the fiends, as if they would blow
The mountain itself to the plain below.
And when the saint turned round to go,
Down tumbled the Altar behind him:
And boiled and seethed the Helm and Bar,
And the winds rushed down on the valleys afar;
While the Saint emerged, like a shining star,
From the cloud where they could not bind him.

And he went his way; and the fiends prevailed.
And still is the mountain by fiends assailed.
And the dismal Helm from afar is hailed
As a tempest surely growing.
The herdsman shudders, and hies away
To his hut on the hills at close of day,
For he knows whose cubs are abroad at play
And setting the Helm wind blowing.

His children mourn at the dolorous roar,
And rush to his arms from hearth and floor.
But the good man thinks of his stacks and store,
His fields and his farmstead wasting.
The housewife prays that the rain may fall:
But the stars are shining high over all:
And the Bar extends like a pitchy wall
In the West, where the storm is hasting.

The long loud roar, it deepens amain;
And down from the Helm along valley and plain
Goes the wind with invisible hosts in its train,
And they mount the black Bar-cloud appalling;
And they heave it and row it, those mariners dread,
For days, till it anchors on Fiends'-Fell head:
Then the big drops pour from the skies o'er spread,
And the torrents to torrents are calling.

NOTES TO "THE ALTAR ON CROSS-FELL."

The Editor of Camden (Bishop Gibson), speaking of huge stones found
together on the top of steep and high mountains, thought they might
possibly be the ruins of Churches or Chapels which had been built
there. "For," says he, "it was thought an extraordinary piece of
devotion, upon the planting of Christianity in these parts, to
erect crosses, and build chapels on the most eminent places, as
being both nearer heaven and more conspicuous: they were commonly
dedicated to St. Michael. That large tract of mountains on the east
side of the county (of Cumberland), called Cross-Fells, had the
name given them upon that account; for before, they were called
Fiends'-Fell, or Devil's Fell; and Dilston, a small town under
them, is contracted from Devil's-town."

Among the several monuments on the pavement in the cross-aisle in
Hexham Cathedral, is one ornamented with a crosier, and inscribed,
"Hic Jacet Thomas de Devilston."

The mountain, Cross-Fell, which is remarkable for the phenomenon
of the Helm-Cloud upon its summit, and the Helm-wind, as it is
called, generated within it, which is sometimes productive of such
destructive effects in the valleys below, is said to have been
formerly designated Fiends'-Fell, from the common belief that evil
spirits had their haunt upon it; until St. Augustine, to whom and
his forty followers, when travelling on their missionary labours in
these parts, a legendary tradition ascribes the expulsion of the
demons of the storms, erected a _Cross_, and built an altar on the
summit, where he offered the holy eucharist, and thus was supposed
to have counter-charmed the demons. Since that time it has borne
the name of Cross-Fell; and the people of the neighbourhood style a
heap of stones lying there, the Altar upon Cross-Fell.

The common saying, "Its brewing a storm," or "A storm is brewing,"
is one of the many phrases in which we only repeat the thought of
our primeval Scandinavian ancestors; amongst whom the beverage
quaffed in the halls of Valhalla, the drink of the Gods, was
conceived to be a product of the storm, and had more or less
identity with the Cloud-Water. In Germany, the mists that gather
about the mountain tops before a storm are said to be accounted for
in like manner, as if they were steam from the brewing or boiling
in which dwarfs, elves, or witches were engaged. Such modes of
expression, according to the dictionary of the brothers Grimm, are
of extreme antiquity.

Some such ideas seem to have been popularly associated with that
enormous cloud, which is often seen, like a helmet, to cover the
summit of Cross-Fell, and in which the Helm-Wind is generated.

In speaking of the Helm-Wind, it may be necessary to premise that
Cross-Fell is one continued ridge, stretching without any branches,
or even subject mountains, except two or three conical hills called
Pikes, from the N.N.W. to the S.S.E., from the neighbourhood of
Gilsland almost to Kirkby-Stephen, that is about forty miles.
Its direction is nearly in a right line, and the height of its
different parts not very unequal; but is in general such, that some
of its more eminent parts are exceeded in altitude by few hills in
Britain, being 2901 feet above the level of the sea. The slope to
the summit from the east is gradual, and extends over perhaps fifty
miles of country; whilst on the west it is abrupt, and has at five
miles from its base the river Eden running parallel to the mountain.

Upon the upper part of this lofty ridge, there often rests, in dry
and sunny weather, a prodigious wreath of clouds, extending from
three or four to sixteen or eighteen miles each way, north and
south, from the highest point; it is at times above the mountain,
sometimes it rests upon its top, but most frequently descends a
considerable way down its side. This mighty collection of vapour,
from which so much commotion issues, exhibits an appearance
uncommonly grand and solemn; and is named from a Saxon word, which
in our language implies a covering, the Helm. The western front of
this enormous cloud is clearly defined, and quite separated from
any other cloud on that side. Opposite to this, and at a variable
distance towards the west, and at the same elevation, is another
cloud with its eastern edge as clearly defined as the Helm; this
is called the Bar or Bur. It is said to have the appearance of
being in continual motion, as if boiling, or at least agitated by a
violent wind.

The distance between the Helm and the Bar varies as the Bar
advances towards, or recedes from, the Helm; this is sometimes
not more than half a mile, sometimes three or four miles, and
occasionally the Bar seems to coincide with the western horizon; or
it disperses and there is no Bar, and then there is a general east
wind extending over all the country westward.

The description of this remarkable phenomenon, the Helm-Wind,
we will give from observations made by the Rev. John Watson, of
Cumrew, and others. The places most subject to it are Milburn,
Kirkland, Ousby, Melmerby, and Gamblesby. Sometimes when the
atmosphere is quite settled, hardly a cloud to be seen, and not
a breath of wind stirring, a small cloud appears on the summit
of the mountain, and extends itself to the north and south; the
Helm is then said to be on, and in a few minutes the wind is
blowing so violently as to break down trees, overthrow stacks,
occasionally blow a person from his horse, or overturn a horse and
cart. When the wind blows, the Helm seems violently agitated; and
on descending the fell and entering it, there is not much wind.
Sometimes a Helm forms and goes off without a wind; and there are
easterly winds without a Helm. The open space between the Helm and
Bar varies from eight or ten to thirty or forty miles in length,
and from half a mile to four or six miles in breadth; it is of an
elliptical form, as the Helm and Bar are united at the ends. A
representation of the Helm, Bar, and space between, may be made by
opening the forefinger and thumb of each hand, and placing their
tips to each other; the thumbs will then represent the Helm on the
top of the fell, the forefingers the Bar, and the space between,
the variable limits of the wind.

The open space is clear of clouds with the exception of small
pieces breaking off now and then from the Helm, and either
disappearing or being driven rapidly over the Bar; but through
this open space is often seen a high stratum of clouds quite at
rest. Within the space described the wind blows continually; it has
been known to do so for nine days together, the Bar advancing or
receding to different distances. When heard or felt for the first
time it does not seem so very extraordinary; but when heard or felt
for days together, it gives a strong impression of sublimity. Its
sound is peculiar, and when once known is easily distinguished from
that of ordinary winds; it cannot be heard more than three or four
miles, but in the wind or near it, it is grand and awful, and has
been compared to the noise made by the sea in a violent storm.

Its first effect on the spirits is exhilarating, and it gives a
buoyancy to the body. The country subject to it is very healthy,
but it does great injury to vegetation by beating grain, grass, and
leaves of trees, till quite black.

It may further be remarked of this wind, that it is very irregular,
rarely occurring in the summer months, and more frequent from the
end of September to May. It generally blows from Cross-Fell longest
in the spring, when the sun has somewhat warmed the earth beneath,
and does not cease till it has effectually cooled it; thus it
sometimes continues, according to Mr. Ritson, for a fortnight or
three weeks, which he considers a peculiarity of the Helm wind of
Cross-Fell. The wind itself is very chill, and is almost always
terminated by a rain, which restores, or to which succeeds, a
general warmth, and into which the Helm seems to resolve itself.

The best explanation of this very interesting and remarkable
phenomenon is given in the following observations of Dr. T. Barnes
of Carlisle.

The air or wind from the east ascends the gradual slope of the
eastern side of the Penine chain or Cross-Fell range of mountains,
to the summit of Cross-Fell, where it enters the Helm or cap, and
is cooled to a low temperature; it then rushes forcibly down the
abrupt declivity of the western side of the mountain into the
valley beneath, in consequence of the valley being of a warmer
temperature, and this constitutes the Helm wind.

The sudden and violent rushing of the wind down the ravines and
crevices of the mountains occasions the loud noise that is heard.

At a varying distance from the base of the mountain the Helm wind
is rarified by the warmth of the low ground, and meets with the
wind from the west, which resists its further course. The higher
temperature it has acquired in the valley, and the meeting of the
contrary current, occasion it to rebound and ascend into the upper
region of the atmosphere. When the air or wind has reached the
height of the Helm, it is again cooled to the low temperature of
this cold region, and is consequently unable to support the same
quantity of vapour it had in the valley; the water or moisture
contained in the air, is therefore condensed by the cold, and forms
the cloud called the Helm-Bar.

The meeting of the opposing currents beneath,--where there are
frequently strong gusts of wind from all quarters, and the sudden
condensation of the air and moisture in the Bar-cloud, give rise
to its agitation or commotion, as if "struggling with contrary
blasts." The Bar is therefore not the cause of the limit of the
Helm wind, but is the consequence of it. It is absurd to suppose
that the Bar, which is a light cloud, can impede or resist the
Helm wind; but if it even possessed a sufficient resisting power,
it could have no influence on the wind which is blowing near the
surface of the earth, and which might pass under the Bar.

The variable distance of the Bar from the Helm is owing to the
changing situation of the opposing and conflicting currents, and
the difference of temperature of different parts of the low ground
near the base of the mountain.

When there is a break or opening in the Bar, the wind is said to
rush through with great violence, and to extend over the country.
Here again, the effect is mistaken for the cause. In this case,
the Helm-Wind, which blows always from the east, has, in some
places underneath the observed opening, overcome the resistance
of the air, or of the wind from the west, and of course does not
rebound and ascend into the higher regions to form the Bar. The
supply being cut off, a break or opening in that part of the Bar
necessarily takes place.

When the temperature of the lower region has fallen and become
nearly uniform with that of the mountain range, the Helm wind
ceases; the Bar and the Helm approach and join each other, and rain
not unfrequently follows.

When the Helm-Wind has overcome all the resistance of the lower
atmosphere, or of the opposing current from the west, and the
temperature of the valley and of the mountain is more nearly
equalized, there is no rebound or ascent of the wind, consequently
the Bar ceases to be formed, the one already existing is
dissipated, and a general east wind prevails.

There is little wind in the Helm-cloud, because the air is colder
in it than in the valley, and the moisture which the air contains
is more condensed and is deposited in the cloud upon the summit of
the mountain.

There is rarely either a Helm, Helm-wind, or Bar, during the
summer, on account of the higher temperature of the summit of the
Cross-Fell range, and the upper regions of the atmosphere, at that
season of the year.

The different situations of the Helm, on the side, on the summit,
and above the mountain, will depend on the temperature of these
places: when the summit is not cold enough to condense the vapour,
the Helm is situated higher in a colder region, and will descend
down the side of the mountains if the temperature be sufficiently
low to produce that effect.

The sky is clear between the Helm and Bar, because the air below
is warmer and can support a greater quantity of vapour rising from
the surface of the earth, and this vapour is driven forward by the
Helm-Wind, and ascends up in the rebound to the Bar. In short,
the Helm is merely a cloud or cap upon the mountain, the cold air
descends from the Helm to the valley, and constitutes the Helm
Wind, and when warmed and rarified in the valley, ascends and forms
the Bar.

WILLIE O' SCALES.

Said Willie o' Scales, at break of day,
"The hunt's up! I must busk and away!
Steed, good wife? and saddle? I trow,
Willie o' Scales is steed enow."

--Scotland's King is a hunting gone:
Willie o' Scales, he runs alone:
Knights and Nobles many a score:
Hounds full twenty tongues and more.

Through the covert the deer he sprang:
Over the heather the music rang.
Dogs and steeds well speeded they:
But Willie o' Scales, he show'd the way.

For speed of foot had Willie no peer.
He outstripp'd the horses, dogs, and deer.
He left the Nobles far behind.
He pass'd the King like a puff of wind.

At the close of day, with a greenwood bough,
Beside the deer he fann'd his brow.
And "There, my liege!" to the Monarch he said,
"Is as gallant a stag as ever lay dead.

"I count him fleet, for a stag of ten!"--
--"And I count thee chief of my Border men.
No gallanter heart, I dare be sworn,
Ever drew the shaft or wound the horn.

"No trustier hand than thine was found
When foes to Scotland hemm'd us round.
Now swifter of foot than our fleetest deer--
We'll try thy hold upon land and gear.

"For his speed in sport, for his might in fray,
Write, 'GILL'S broad lands' to 'Willie, THE RAE!'
And for ever a Willie the Rae be here,
When the King comes by to hunt the deer."--

Thus spoke King William, where he stood,
The Lion of Scotland, fierce of mood.
And musing turned, and look'd again
On his Border vassal; and cross'd the plain.

Centuries long have rolled away:
The Monarch is dust, his Nobles clay:
Old lines are changed, are changing still:
But Willie the Rae is lord of Gill.

NOTES TO "WILLIE O' SCALES."

The long and scattered hamlet of High and Low Scales, is on the
west side of Crummock Beck, near Bromfield, and a few miles from
Wigton in Cumberland. Skells or scales, from a Saxon or Gothic word
signifying a cover, was the name given to those slight temporary
huts made of turf or sods which in the mountainous district of
this county and Scotland are called Bields. They were erected
most commonly for the shelter of shepherds; and during the later
periods, in the border wars to protect the persons who were
appointed to watch the cattle of the neighbourhood. Few estates in
the kingdom have belonged to one family longer than this of THE
GILL, which was formerly, however, much more extensive, comprising
most probably the neighbouring hamlet of Scales. Another somewhat
uncommon circumstance belonging to it is, that, to the close of
last century, and for anything we know to the contrary, to a much
later date, the owner had always lived on and occupied it himself;
it had never been in the hands of a farmer.

The Reays of Gill, however variously their name has been spelled
and pronounced by different branches of the family, derived it from
one on whom it was undoubtedly bestowed as being characteristical
and descriptive of himself. The active hunter, the companion and
the friend of William the Lion, was called in the commoner Saxon
language of his time Ra, or Raa, a Roe, from his unparalleled
swiftness. In Scotland and Germany a roe is still pronounced rae,
as it was formerly in England.

"When the deer and the rae
Lightly bounding together,
Sport the lang simmer day
On the braes of Balquhither."

The tradition is that the head, or chief, of this family had a grant
of the lands of Gill to him, and his heirs for ever, from William
the Lion, King of Scotland, whose eventful reign lasted nearly half
a century; and who died in 1214. This grant is said to have been
made, not only as a reward for his fidelity to his prince, but as
a memorial of his extraordinary swiftness of foot in pursuing the
deer, outstripping in fleetness most of the horses and dogs. The
conditions of the grants were, that he should pay a pepper corn
yearly, as an acknowledgment, and that the name of William should,
if possible, be perpetuated in the family. "And this is certain,"
says a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine about the year 1794,
"That ever since, till now, a William Reay has been owner of the
Gill. There is every reason to believe that the present John Reay
is the first instance of a deviation." It is said that even in that
instance the deviation was not made without deliberation; William
the father having first consulted an eminent lawyer, whether he
might safely call his son John. It was replied that mere length of
occupancy would quiet the possession and make the title good.

The great military tenure of lands in this district was by HOMAGE,
FEALTY and CORNAGE. This last (cornage) drew after it _wardship_,
_marriage_, and _relief_. And the service of this tenure was
_knight's service_. HOMAGE was the most honourable service, and
the most humble service of reverence, that a free tenant can do
to his lord. For when he was to do homage to his lord, he was to
appear ungirt, bareheaded, without his sword, and, kneeling on both
knees, his hands held out and clasped between his lord's, was to
say--"I become your man from this day forward of life, and limb,
and earthly honour, and unto you will be true and faithful, and
faith unto you will bear for the tenements that I claim to hold of
you, saving the faith that I owe to our Sovereign Lord the King."
And then the lord so sitting was to kiss him; by which kiss he was
bound to be his vassal for ever.

When a free tenant was to do FEALTY to his lord, he was to hold
his right hand upon a book, and say thus--"Know ye this, my lord,
that I will be faithful and true to you, and faith to you will bear
for the tenements which I claim to hold of you, and that I will
lawfully do to you the customs and services which I ought to do at
the terms assigned; so help me God and his Saints." But he was not
to kneel, nor make such humble reverence as in homage; and fealty
might be done before the steward of the court, but homage could
only be done to the lord himself.

CORNAGE, called also HORNGELD, and NOWTEGELD or (cow-tax) seems
early to have been converted into a pecuniary fine, being a
stipulated payment in the first instance for the finding of
scouts or horners to procure intelligence. It was first paid in
cattle. The tenants who held by cornage were bound to be always
ready to serve the King and lord of the manor on horseback, or on
foot, at their own charge; and when the King's army marched into
Scotland, their post was in the vanguard as they advanced, and in
the vanguard on their return. Because they best knew the passes
and defiles, and the way and manner of the enemy's attacking
and retreating. _Wardship_ and _marriage_ were included in this
tenure. When the tenant died, and the heir male was within the
age of twenty one years, the lord was to have the land holden of
him until the heir should attain that age; because the heir by
intendment of law was not able to do knight's service before his
age of twenty-one years. And if such heir was not married at the
time of the death of his ancestor, then the lord was to have the
wardship and marriage of him. But if the tenant died leaving an
heir female, which heir female was of the age of fourteen years or
upwards, then the lord was not to have the wardship of the land,
nor of the body; because a woman of that age might have a husband
to do knight's service. But if such heir female was under the age
of fourteen years, and unmarried at the time of the death of her
ancestor, the lord was to have the wardship of the land holden of
him until the age of such heir female of fourteen years; within
which time the lord might tender unto her convenable marriage
without disparagement; and if the lord did not tender such marriage
within the said age, she might have entered into the lands, and
ousted the lord.

Thus the consent of a superior lord was requisite for the marriage
of a female vassal; and this power was distorted into the right of
disposing of the ward in marriage. When the King or lord was in
want of money it was by no means unusual to offer the wards, male
or female, with their lands, in a sense to the highest bidder. If
the ward refused to fulfil the marriage so made, then a sum was due
from the estates equal to what they would have fetched.

_Relief_ was a certain sum of money, that the heir, on coming of
age, paid unto the lord, on taking possession of the inheritance of
his ancestor.

A _Knight's fee_ was estimated, not according to the quality but
the quantity of the land, about 640 acres; and the relief was
after the rate of one fourth part of the yearly value of the fee.

The _lord's rent_ was called _white money_, or _white rent_, from
its being paid in silver.

SCUTAGE or service of the shield, was another compensation in
money, instead of personal service against the Scots.

The DRENGAGE tenure, which prevailed about Brougham and Clifton,
was extremely servile. The tenants seem to have been drudges to
perform the most laborious and servile offices. Dr. Burn quotes
authority to prove that Sir Hugh de Morville in Westmorland changed
drengage into free service; and that Gilbert de Brougham gave one
half of the village of Brougham to Robert de Veteripont to make
the other half free of drengage. One of the de Threlkelds also,
who lived at Yanwath Hall, in the time of Edward I., relieved his
tenants at Threlkeld of servile burdens at four pence a head. The
services were half a draught for one day's ploughing; one day's
mowing; one of shearing; one of clipping; one of salving sheep; one
carriage load in two years, not to go above ten miles; to dig and
load two loads of peat every year--the tenants to have their crowdy
(a coarse mess of meal, dripping and hot water) while they worked;
the cottagers the same, only they found a horse and harrow instead
of the half plough, and a footman's load, not a carriage load.

Many of these have long been lost sight of; and now most of the
lands, whether held on customary or arbitrary tenures, merely pay
an almost nominal rent, besides certain fines, to the lord of the
manor. Nevertheless there is much truth in what Blackstone says:
that "copy holders are only villeins improved."

Lands of arbitrary tenure pay, with certain deductions, fines of
two years value on the death of lord or tenant, or of both, and
on alienation. Some pay dower to the widow; others do not. Some
pay a live heriot, which means the best animal in the tenant's
possession; others, a dead heriot, that is, the most valuable
implement, or piece of furniture. In Catholic times, the Church
also, on some manors, claimed as heriot the second best animal
the tenant might die possessed of, and on others the best. In
some instances a heriot is only payable when a widow remains in
possession of the tenement, and in these cases the original object
of the impost was to recompense the lord of the manor for the
loss of a man's military service during the widow's occupancy. In
some joint manors where two, or perhaps three, lords have claims
for heriots, very discreditable, and, to a dying tenant's family,
very distressing scenes are enacted; for, when it becomes known
that the holder of a tenement so burdened is on his death-bed, the
stewards of the several manors place watches round the premises,
who ascertain what and where the best animal may be, and, as soon
as the demise of the tenant is announced, a rush ensues, and an
unseemly contest for possession.

In arbitrary lands some lords claim all the timber; others only the
oak; others the oak and yew; others oak and white thorn; and so on.
In some the tenant is bound to plant two trees of the same kind for
every one he fells; but tenants have a right to timber for repairs,
rebuilding, or implements, though they must not cut down without
license. Many lands are bound to carry their grain to the manorial
mill to be ground and _multured_; but this custom has fallen into
disuse. Most lords retain the minerals and game if they enfranchise
the soil, as many have done.

Many lands used to pay boons of various kinds; and some of these
services are still enforced. By these were demanded so many men or
boys, horses, carts, &c., in peat cutting time, hay time, harvest,
wood-cutting and carting, and so on. In Martindale Chace, near
Ulswater, where Mr. Hasell has a herd of that now rare species, the
Red Deer, the tenants are bound to attend the lord's hunt once a
year, which is called on their court roll a _Boon Hunt_. On this
occasion, they each held their district allotted on the boundaries
of the Chace, where they are stationed, to prevent the stag flying
beyond the liberty. In the east of Cumberland, the tenants were
obliged to send horses and sacks to St. Bees, for salt for the
lord's use; some had to bring their own provisions when engaged in
these services: some were entitled to a cake of a stated size for
each man, and a smaller for a boy, on assembling in the morning
at a fixed hour, under a certain tree, as was the custom at Irton
Hall. Breach of punctuality forfeited this cake, but the work was
always exacted. Certain farms in some manors were bound to maintain
male animals for the use of all the tenants, subject to various
conditions and regulations. Formerly many tenants paid a pound of
pepper at the lord's court; others only a pepper-corn; and some
lands are still held by this custom.

Many other peculiar customs connected with the tenure of land
formerly existed.

Curious individual exemptions from certain burthens are to be
met with occasionally. In the parish of Renwick a copyholder
is released from payment of the prescription in lieu of tithe,
paid by all his neighbours, because one of his ancestors slew "a
cock-a-trice." This monster is alleged to have been nothing more
than a bat of extraordinary size, which terrified the people in
church one evening, so that all fled save the clerk, who valiantly
giving battle, succeeded in striking it down with his staff. For
this exploit, which is stated to have taken place about 260 years
ago, he was rewarded with the exemption mentioned, which is still
claimed by his successors.

In the parish of Castle-Sowerby, the ten principal estates were
anciently called _Red Spears_, on account of the singular service
by which the tenants held them, viz:--that of riding through
the town of Penrith on Whit-Tuesday, brandishing their spears.
Those who held by this tenure were of the order of Red Knights,
mentioned in our law books; a name derived from the Saxon, who held
their lands by serving the lord on horseback. _Delient equitare
cum domino suo de manerio in manerium, vel cum domini uxore._ In
times of peace, it is presumed they held the annual service above
noted as a challenge to the enemies of their country, or those
who might dispute the title of their lord, similar to the parade
of the Champion of England at a coronation. The spears were about
nine feet in length, and till within the last century, some of
them remained in the proprietors' houses, where they were usually
deposited; and were sureties to the sheriff for the peaceable
behaviour of the rest of the inhabitants.

The ancient owners of the Red Spears estates annually served as
jurors at the forest court held near Hesket, on St. Barnabas Day,
by which they were exempted from all parish offices.

ERMENGARDE.

It was the early summer time,
When Maidens stint their praying
To wander forth at morning's prime,
With happy hearts, a maying;
To wash their rosy cheeks with dew,
And roam the meadows over:
And ask the winds to tell them true
Of some far distant lover.

Then little Ermengarde, the while
To graver thoughts awaking,
Look'd sadly on St. Herbert's Isle
As morn was brightly breaking.
Some tapestry for his altar wrought
Beside her bed was lying;
Her beads, and little scroll for thought,
No conscious look descrying.

And now when might the gentle Saint
Be at his service bending;
His earnest life, without a taint
Of earth still heavenwards tending--
His silver voice, oft heard in prayer,
Or in direction pleading--
His manhood's bright angelic air--
Her thought too fond were feeding.

In little Ermengarde her love
With God the Saint divided.
Unknown even to herself she wove
The threads her passion guided.
And when she trembled on her knees
Confessing faith before him--
Ah! can this be but Man she sees,
So heart and soul adore him!

So little Ermengarde with pale
And thoughtful cheek sat sighing,
When rode an Elf-man down the vale
Her open lattice eyeing.
"Good morrow! May my Lady's thought,
This happy May-day, blossom;
And tenfold blessedness be wrought
Within that gentle bosom!"

"My tongue no thought or wish express'd"--
--"Yet, trust me, fairest Lady!"
"In Bowscale tarn, for thy behest,
The undying twain are ready.
Ask from their breasts two tiny scales
Of gold and pearly whiteness.
These on thy heart--fulfill'd prevails
Thy wish in all its brightness!"--

The stranger pass'd. Away she hies,
The mountain pathway keeping,
Where deep amid the silence lies
The gloomy water sleeping.
"Come, faithful fishes! give to me
Two little scales"--she chanted--
That in my bosom peace may be,
And all my wishes granted."--

They gave her from their pearly sides
Two little scales. She bore them
Down from the hill the Tarn that hides,
And in her bosom wore them.
The simple Cross her mother gave
Was on her neck, a token
Of that pure faith to which she clave;
But lo! the link was broken!

Down Greta's side with wild delight
The little Maiden wandered;
And on the Saint before her sight,
Her inmost sight, she pondered;
Now thinking--O that wed with mine
His holy heart were moving!
How shall we soar in thoughts divine,
How walk in pathways loving!

It was a festal day, and bands
Of youths and maids were trooping
With flowers and offerings in their hands,
And round the altar grouping.
And hark the little bell! it calls
To every heart how sweetly!
But most on Ermengarde's it falls
With joy that brings her fleetly.

But on the stony river's brim
A moment's space delaying,
To gaze--before she look'd on him--
On her own features playing
Within the mirror'd pool below--
Its broken link dissevering,
Her little Cross fell sinking slow
Beyond her vain endeavouring.

And from the stream two fin-like arms
Leapt up and snatch'd her wailing,
And dragg'd her down with all her charms
In anguish unavailing.
And down the rocks they bore her fast
With struggles unrelenting:
And Greta's roar mix'd in the blast
With Ermengarde's lamenting.

And far adown the rushing tide
Was dragg'd and whirled the Maiden;
And wildly mid the pools she cried
In accents horror-laden.
The streams dash'd on with furious roar;
No aid the rude rocks lent her;
Wild and more wild they gather'd o'er
The loud and lost lamenter.

So she whom Magic's wiles had driven,
And her own heart persuaded,
To tempt a Saint to turn from heaven,
Fell, snatch'd from life unaided.
Yet, not for ever lost, she roves
Amid the winding currents,
And utters to the hills and groves
Her wail above the torrents.

For yet some bard shall wander by
With harp and song so holy,
That they shall wrench the caves where lie
Her limbs in anguish lowly.
And free her for the blessed light
And air again to greet her
Awhile, before she takes her flight
To where the Saint shall meet her.

Even I, for little Ermengarde,
Would harp a life-long morrow,
But to reverse that doom so hard,
And lead her back from sorrow;
Mid happy thoughts again to beam,
All joyousness partaking;
But never more of Saints to dream
When summer morns are breaking.

NOTES TO "ERMENGARDE."

I.--St. Herbert's Isle, placed nearly in the centre of Derwent
Lake, derives its name from a hermit who lived there in the seventh
century, and had his cell on this island.

It contains about four acres of ground, is planted with firs
and other trees, and has a curious octagonal cottage built with
unhewn stones, and artificially mossed over and thatched. This
was erected many years ago by the late Sir Wilfred Lawson, to
whose representative the island at present belongs. A few yards
from its site are the ruins of the hermitage formerly occupied by
the recluse. These vestiges, being of stone and mortar, give the
appearance of its having consisted of two apartments; an outer one,
about twenty feet long and sixteen feet broad, which has probably
been his chapel, and another, of narrower dimensions, his cell,
with a little garden adjoining.

The scene around was well adapted to excite the most solemn
emotions, and was in unison with the severity of his religious
life. His plot of ground and the waters around him supplied his
scanty fare; while the rocks and mountains inspired his meditations
with the most sublime ideas of the might and majesty of the
Creator. It is no wonder that "St. Herbert, a priest and confessor,
to avoid the intercourse of man, and that nothing might withdraw
his attention from unceasing meditation and prayer, chose this
island for his abode."

There is no history of St. Herbert's life and actions to be met
with, or any tradition of his works of piety or miracles, preserved
by the inhabitants of the country. His contemporary existence with
St. Cuthbert, and his equo-temporary death with him obtained by the
prayers of the saint, at the time and in the manner related below,
according to the old legends, is all that is known of him.