Part 10
The road still pursuing this border of the lake, the copses opened to partial views of the bold rocks, that form the opposite shore, and many a wild recess and solemn glen appeared and vanished among them, some shewing only broken fells, the sides of others shaggy with forests, and nearly all lined, at their bases, with narrow pastures of the most exquisite verdure. Thus descending upon a succession of sweeping bays, where the shades parted, and admitted the lake, that flowed even with us, and again retreating from it over gentle eminences, where it glittered only between the leaves; crossing the rude bridges of several becks, rapid, clear and foaming among dark stones, and receiving a green tint from the closely shadowing trees, but neither precipitous enough in their descent, nor ample enough in their course, to increase the dignity of the scene, we came, after passing nearly three miles through the park, to Lyulph's Tower. This mansion, a square, gray edifice, with turreted corners, battlements and windows in the Gothic style, has been built by the present Duke of Norfolk in one of the finest situations of a park, abounding with views of the grand and the sublime. It stands on a green eminence, a little removed from the water, backed with wood and with pastures rising abruptly beyond, to the cliffs and crags that crown them. In front, the ground falls finely to the lake's edge, broken, yet gentle, and scattered over with old trees, and darkened with copses, which mingle in fine variety of tints with the light verdure of the turf beneath. Herds of deer, wandering over the knolls, and cattle, reposing in the shade, completed this sweet landscape.
The lake is hence seen to make one of its boldest expanses, as it sweeps round Place-fell, and flows into the third and last bend of this wonderful vale. Lyulph's Tower looks up this reach to the south, and to the east traces all the fells and curving banks of Gowbarrow, that bind the second; while, to the west, a dark glen opens to a glimpse of the solemn alps round Helvellyn; and all these objects are seen over the mild beauty of the park.
Passing fine sweeps of the shore and over bold headlands, we came opposite to the vast promontory, called Place-fell, that pushes its craggy foot into the lake, like a lion's claw, round which the waters make a sudden turn, and enter Patterdale, their third and final expanse. In this reach, they lose the form of a river, and resume that of a lake, being closed, at three miles distance, by the ruinous rocks, that guard the gorge of Patterdale, backed by a multitude of fells. The water, in this scope, is of oval form, bounded on one side by the precipices of Place-fell, Martindale-fell, and several others, equally rude and awful that rise from its edge, and shew no lines of verdure, or masses of; wood, but retire in rocky bays, or projects in vast promontories athwart it. The opposite shore is less severe and more romantic; the rocks are lower and richly wooded, and, often receding from the water, leave room for a tract of pasture, meadow land and corn, to margin their ruggedness. At the upper end, the village of Patterdale and one of two white farms, peep out from among trees beneath the scowling mountains, that close the scene; pitched in a rocky nook, with corn and meadow land, sloping gently in front to the lake, and, here and there, a scattered grove. But this scene is viewed to more advantage from one of the two woody eminences, that overhang the lake, just at the point where it forms its last angle, and, like an opened compass, spreads its two arms before the eye. These heights are extremely beautiful, viewed from the opposite shore, and had long charmed us at a distance. Approaching them, we crossed another torrent, Glencoyn-beck, or Airey-force, which here divides not only the estates of the Duke of Norfolk and Mr. Hodgkinson, but the counties of Westmoreland and Cumberland; and all the fells beyond, that enclose the last bend of Ullswater, are in Patterdale. Here, on the right, at the feet of awful rocks, was spread a gay autumnal scene, in which the peasants were singing merrily as they gathered the oats into sheafs; woods, turfy hillocks, and, above all, tremendous crags, abruptly closing round the yellow harvest. The figures, together with the whole landscape, resembled one of those beautifully fantastic scenes, which fable calls up before the wand of the magician.
Entering Glencoyn woods and sweeping the boldest bay of the lake, while the water dashed with a strong surge upon the shore, we at length mounted a road frightful from its steepness and its crags, and gained one of the wooded summits so long admired. From hence the view of Ullswater is the most extensive and various, that its shores exhibit, comprehending its two principal reaches, and though not the most picturesque, it is certainly the most grand. To the east, extends the middle sweep in long and equal perspective, walled with barren fells on the right, and margined on the left with the pastoral recesses and bowery projections of Gowbarrow park. The rude mountains above almost seemed to have fallen back from the shore to admit this landscape within their hollow bosom, and then, bending abruptly, appear, like Milton's Adam viewing the sleeping Eve, to hang over it enamoured.
Lyulph's Tower is the only object of art, except the hamlet of Watermillock, seen in the distant perspective, that appears in the second bend of Ullswater; and this loses much of its effect from the square uniformity of the structure, and the glaring green of its painted window-cases. This is the longest reach of the lake.
Place-fell, which divides the two last bends, and was immediately opposite to the point we were on, is of the boldest form. It projects into the water, an enormous mass of gray crag, scarred with dark hues; thence retiring a little it again bends forward in huge cliffs, and finally starts up into a vast perpendicular face of rock. As a single object, it is wonderfully grand; and, connected with the scene, its effect is sublime. The lower rocks are called Silver-rays, and not inaptly; for, when the sun shines upon them, their variegated sides somewhat resemble in brightness the rays streaming beneath a cloud.
The last reach of Ullswater, which is on the right of this point, expands into an oval, and its majestic surface is spotted with little rocky islets, that would adorn a less sacred scene; here they are prettinesses, that can scarcely be tolerated by the grandeur of its character. The tremendous mountains, which scowl over the gorge of Patterdale; the cliffs, massy, broken and overlooked by a multitude of dark summits, with the grey walls of Swarth and Martindale fells, that upheave themselves on the eastern shore, form altogether one of the most grand and awful pictures on the lake; yet, admirable and impressive as it is, as to solemnity and astonishment, its effect with us was not equal to that of the more alpine sketch, caught in distant perspective from the descent into Gowbarrow-park.
In these views of Ullswater, sublimity and greatness are the predominating characters, though beauty often glows upon the western bank. The mountains are all bold, gloomy and severe. When we saw them, the sky accorded well with the scene, being frequently darkened by autumnal clouds; and the equinoctial gale swept the surface of the lake, marking its blackness with long white lines, and beating its waves over the rocks to the foliage of the thickets above. The trees, that shade these eminences, give greater force to the scenes, which they either partially exclude, or wholly admit, and become themselves fine objects, enriched as they are with the darkest moss.
From hence the ride to the village of Patterdale, at the lake's head, is, for the first part, over precipices covered with wood, whence you look down, on the left, upon the water, or upon pastures stretching to it; on the right, the rocks rise abruptly, and often impend their masses over the road; or open to narrow dells, green, rocky and overlooked by endless mountains.
About half way to the village of Patterdale, a peninsula spreads from this shore into the lake, where a white house, peeping from a grove and surrounded with green enclosures, is beautifully placed. This is an inn, and, perhaps the principal one, as to accommodation; but, though its situation on a spot which on each side commands the lake, is very fine, it is not comparable, in point of wildness and sublimity, to that of the cottage, called the King's Arms, at Patterdale. In the way thither, are enchanting catches of the lake, between the trees on the left, and peeps into the glens, that wind among the alps towards Helvellyn, on the right. These multiply near the head of Ullswater, where they start off as from one point, like radii, and conclude in trackless solitudes.
It is difficult to spread varied pictures of such scenes before the imagination. A repetition of the same images of rock, wood and water, and the same epithets of grand, vast and sublime, which necessarily occur, must appear tautologous, on paper, though their archetypes in nature, ever varying in outline, or arrangement, exhibit new visions to the eye, and produce new shades of effect on the mind. It is difficult, also, where these delightful differences have been experienced, to forbear dwelling on the remembrance, and attempting to sketch the peculiarities, which occasioned them. The scenery at the head of Ullswater is especially productive of such difficulties, where a wish to present the picture, and a consciousness of the impossibility of doing so, except by the pencil, meet and oppose each other.
Patterdale itself is a name somewhat familiar to recollection, from the circumstance of the chief estate in it having given to its possessors, for several centuries, the title of Kings of Patterdale. The last person so distinguished was richer than his ancestors, having increased his income, by the most ludicrous parsimony, to a thousand pounds a year. His son and successor is an industrious country gentleman, who has improved the sort of farming mansion, annexed to the estate, and, not affecting to depart much from the simple manners of the other inhabitants, is respectable enough to be generally called by his own name of Mounsey, instead of the title, which was probably seldom given to his ancestors, but in some sort of mockery.
The village is very humble, as to the conditions and views of the inhabitants; and very respectable, as to their integrity and simplicity, and to the contentment, which is proved by the infrequency of emigrations to other districts. It straggles at the feet of fells, somewhat removed from the lake and near the entrance of the wild vale of Glenridding. Its white church is seen nearly from the commencement of the last reach, rising among trees, and in the church-yard are the ruins of an antient yew, of remarkable size and venerable beauty; its trunk, hollowed and silvered by age, resembles twisted roots; yet the branches, that remain above, are not of melancholy black, but flourish in rich verdure and flaky foliage.
The inn is beyond the village, securely sheltered under high crags, while enormous fells, close on the right, open to the gorge of Patterdale; and Coldrill-beck, issuing from it, descends among the corn and meadows, to join the lake at little distance. We had a happy evening at this cleanly cottage, where there was no want, without its recompense, from the civil offices of the people. Among the rocks, that rose over it, is a station, which has been more frequently selected than any other on the lake by the painter and the lover of the _beau idée_, as the French and Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS expressively term what Mr. BURKE explains in his definition of the word _fine_. Below the point, on which we stood, a tract of corn and meadow land fell gently to the lake, which expanded in great majesty beyond, bounded on the right by the precipices of many fells, and, on the left, by rocks finely wooded, and of more broken and spiry outline. The undulating pastures and copses of Gowbarrow closed the perspective. Round the whole of these shores, but particularly on the left, rose clusters of dark and pointed summits, assuming great variety of shape, amongst which Helvellyn was still pre-eminent. Immediately around us, all was vast and gloomy; the fells mount swiftly and to enormous heights, leaving at their bases only crags and hillocks, tufted with thickets of dwarf-oak and holly, where the beautiful cattle, that adorned them, and a few sheep, were picking a scanty supper among the heath.
From this spot glens open on either hand, that lead the eye only to a chaos of mountains. The profile of one near the fore-ground on the right is remarkably grand, shelving from the summit in one vast sweep of rock, with only some interruption of craggy points near its base, into the water. On one side, it unites with the fells in the gorge of Patterdale, and, on the other, winds into a bold bay for the lake. Among the highlands, seen over the left shore, is Common-fell, a large heathy mountain, which appeared to face us. Somewhat nearer, is a lower one, called Glenridding, and above it the Nab. Grassdale has Glenridding and the Nab on one side towards the water, and Birks-fell and St. Sunday's-crag over that, on the other. The points, that rise above the Nab, are Stridon-edge, then Cove's head, and, over all, the precipices of dark Helvellyn, now appearing only at intervals among the clouds.
Not only every fell of this wild region has a name, but almost every crag of every fell, so that shepherds sitting at the fire-side can direct each other to the exact spot among the mountains, where a stray sheep has been seen.
Among the rocks on the right shore, is Martindale-fell, once shaded with a forest, from which it received its name, and which spreading to a vast extent over the hills and vallies beyond, even as far as Hawswater, darkened the front of Swarth-fell and several others, that impend over the first and second reach of Ullswater. Of the mountains, which tower above the glen of Patterdale, the highest are Harter's fell, Kidstow-pike, and the ridge, called the High-street; a name, which reminded us of the German denomination, _Berg-strasse_.
The effect of a stormy evening upon the scenery was solemn. Clouds smoked along the fells, veiling them for a moment, and passing on to other summits; or sometimes they involved the lower steeps, leaving the tops unobscured and resembling islands in a distant ocean. The lake was dark and tempestuous, dashing the rocks with a strong foam. It was a scene worthy of the sublimity of Ossian, and brought to recollection some touches of his gloomy pencil. "When the storms of the mountains come, when the north lifts the waves on high, I sit by the sounding shore, &c."
A large hawk, sailing proudly in the air, and wheeling among the stormy clouds, superior to the shock of the gust, was the only animated object in the upward prospect. We were told, that the eagles had forsaken their aeries in this neighbourhood and in Borrowdale, and are fled to the isle of Man; but one had been seen in Patterdale, the day before, which, not being at its full growth, could not have arrived from a great distance.
We returned to our low-roofed habitation, where, as the wind swept in hollow gusts along the mountains and strove against our casements, the crackling blaze of a wood fire lighted up the cheerfulness, which, so long since as Juvenal's time, has been allowed to arise from the contrast of ease against difficulty. _Suave mari magno, turbantibus aquora ventis_; and, however we might exclaim,
---- ---- ---- "be my retreat Between the groaning forest and the shore, Beat by the boundless multitude of waves!"
it was pleasant to add,
"Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join To cheer the gloom."
BROUGHAM CASTLE.
The next morning, we proceeded from Ullswater along the vale of Emont, so sweetly adorned by the woods and lawns of Dalemain, the seat of Mr. Hassel, whose mansion is seen in the bottom. One of the most magnificent prospects in the country is when this vale opens to that of Eden. The mountainous range of Cross-fell fronted us, and its appearance, this day, was very striking, for the effect of autumnal light and shade. The upper range, bright in sunshine, appeared to rise, like light clouds above the lower, which was involved in dark shadow, so that it was a considerable time before the eye could detect the illusion. The effect of this was inexpressibly interesting.
Within view of Emont bridge, which divides the counties of Cumberland and Westmoreland, is that memorial of antient times, so often described under the name of Arthur's Round Table; a green circular spot of forty paces diameter, enclosed by a dry ditch, and, beyond this, by a bank; each in sufficient preservation to shew exactly what has been its form. In the midst of the larger circle is another of only seven paces diameter. We have no means of adding to, or even of corroborating any of the well known conjectures, concerning the use of this rude and certainly very antient monument. Those not qualified to propose decisions in this respect may, however, suffer themselves to believe, that the bank without the ditch and the enclosure within it were places for different classes of persons, interested as parties, or spectators, in some transactions, passing within the inner circle; and that these, whether religious, civil, or military ceremonies, were rendered distinct and conspicuous, for the purpose of impressing them upon the memory of the spectators, at a time when memory and tradition were the only preservatives of history.
Passing a bridge, under which the Lowther, from winding and romantic banks, enters the vale of Eden, we ascended between the groves of Bird's Nest, or, as it is now called, Brougham Hall; a white mansion, with battlements and gothic windows, having formerly a bird painted on the front. It is perched among woods, on the brow of a steep, but not lofty hill, and commands enchanting prospects over the vale. The winding Emont; the ruins of Brougham Castle on a green knoll of Whinfield park, surrounded with old groves; far beyond this, the highlands of Cross-fell; to the north, Carleton-hall, the handsome modern mansion of Mr. Wallace, amidst lawns of incomparable verdure and luxuriant woods falling from the heights; further still, the mountain, town and beacon of Penrith; these are the principal features of the rich landscape, spread before the eye from the summit of the hill, at Bird's Nest.
As we descended to Brougham Castle, about a mile further, its ruined masses of pale red stone, tufted with shrubs and plants, appeared between groves of fir, beach, oak and ash, amidst the broken ground of Whinfield park, a quarter of a mile through which brought us to the ruin itself. It was guarded by a sturdy mastiff, worthy the office of porter to such a place, and a good effigy of the Sir Porter of a former age. Brougham Castle, venerable for its well-certified antiquity and for the hoary masses it now exhibits, is rendered more interesting by having been occasionally the residence of the humane and generous Sir Philip Sydney; who had only to look from the windows of this once noble edifice to see his own "Arcadia" spreading on every side. The landscape probably awakened his imagination, for it was during a visit here, that the greatest part of that work was written.
This edifice, once amongst the strongest and most important of the border fortresses, is supposed to have been founded by the Romans; but the first historical record concerning it is dated in the time of William the Conqueror, who granted it to his nephew, Hugh de Albinois. His successors held it, till 1170, when Hugh de Morville, one of the murderers of Thomas a Becket, forfeited it by his crime. Brougham was afterwards granted by King John to a grandson of Hugh, Robert de Vipont, whose grandson again forfeited the estate, which was, however, restored to his daughters, one of whom marrying a De Clifford, it remained in this family, till a daughter of the celebrated Countess of Pembroke gave it by marriage to that of the Tuftons, Earls of Thanet, in which it now remains.
This castle has been thrice nearly demolished; first by neglect, during the minority of Roger de Vipont, after which it was sufficiently restored to receive James the First, on his return from Scotland, in 1617; secondly, in the civil wars of Charles the First's time; and thirdly, in 1728, when great part of the edifice was deliberately taken down, and the materials sold for one hundred pounds. Some of the walls still remaining are twelve feet thick, and the places are visible, in which the massy gates were held to them by hinges and bolts of uncommon size. A fuller proof of the many sacrifices of comfort and convenience, by which the highest classes in former ages were glad to purchase security, is very seldom afforded, than by the three detached parts still left of this edifice; but they shew nothing of the magnificence and gracefulness, which so often charm the eye in gothic ruins. Instead of these, they exhibit symptoms of the cruelties, by which their first lords revenged upon others the wretchedness of the continual suspicion felt by themselves. Dungeons, secret passages and heavy iron rings remain to hint of unhappy wretches, who were, perhaps, rescued only by death from these horrible engines of a tyrant's will. The bones probably of such victims are laid beneath the damp earth of these vaults.
A young woman from a neighbouring farm-house conducted us over broken banks, washed by the Emont, to what had been the grand entrance of the castle; a venerable gothic gateway, dark and of great depth, passing under a square tower, finely shadowed by old elms. Above, are a cross-loop and two tier of small pointed windows; no battlements appear at the top; but four rows of corbells, which probably once supported them, now prop some tufts of antient thorn, that have roots in their fractures.
As we passed under this long gateway, we looked into what is still called the Keep, a small vaulted room, receiving light only from loops in the outward wall; Near a large fire-place, yet entire, is a trap door leading to the dungeon below; and, in an opposite corner, a door-case to narrow stairs, that wind up the turret where, too, as well as in the vault, prisoners were probably secured. One almost saw the surly keeper descending through this door-case, and heard him rattle the keys of the chambers above, listening with indifference to the clank of chains and to the echo of that groan below, which seemed to rend the heart it burst from.
This gloomy gateway, which had once sounded with the trumpets and horses of James the First, when he visited the Earl of Cumberland, this gateway, now serving only to shelter cattle from the storm, opens, at length, to a grassy knoll, with bold masses of the ruin scattered round it and a few old ash trees, waving in the area. Through a fractured arch in the rampart some features in the scenery without appear to advantage; the Emont falling over a weir at some distance, with fulling-mills on the bank above; beyond, the pastured slopes and woodlands of Carleton park, and Cross-fell sweeping the back-ground.