Part 23

An old tradition connects the lords of this Castle with the Crusades. One version of it given in the histories of Cumberland, for it is variously related, is to this effect:--"The Baron of Egremont being taken prisoner beyond the seas by the infidels, could not be redeemed without a great ransom, and being for England, entered his brother or kinsman for his surety, promising with all possible speed to send him money to set him free; but upon his return home to Egremont, he changed his mind, and most unnaturally and unthankfully suffered his brother to lie in prison, in great distress and extremity, until the hair was grown to an unusual length, like to a woman's hair. The Pagans being out of hopes of the ransom, in great rage most cruelly hanged up their pledge, binding the long hair of his head to a beam in the prison, and tied his hands so behind him, that he could not reach to the top where the knot was fastened to loose himself: during his imprisonment, the Paynim's daughter became enamoured of him, and sought all good means for his deliverance, but could not enlarge him: she understanding of this last cruelty, by means made to his keeper, entered the prison, and taking her knife to cut the hair, being hastened, she cut the skin of his head, so as, with the weight of his body, he rent away the rest, and fell down to the earth half dead; but she presently took him up, causing surgeons to attend him secretly, till he recovered his former health, beauty, and strength, and so entreated her father for him that he set him at liberty. Then, desirous to revenge his brother's ingratitude, he got leave to depart to his country, and took home with him the hatterell of his hair rent off as aforesaid, and a bugle-horn, which he commonly used to carry about him, when he was in England, where he shortly arrived, and coming to Egremont Castle about noontide of the day, where his brother was at dinner, he blew his bugle-horn, which (says the tradition) his brother the baron presently acknowledged, and thereby conjectured his brother's return; and then sending his friends and servants to learn his brother's mind to him, and how he had escaped, they brought back the report of all the miserable torment which he had endured for his unfaithful brother the baron, which so astonished the baron (half dead before with the shameful remembrance of his own disloyalty and breach of promise) that he abandoned all company and would not look on his brother, till his just wrath was pacified by diligent entreaty of their friends. And to be sure of his brother's future kindness, he gave the _lordship of Millum_ to him and his heirs for ever. Whereupon the first Lords of Millum gave for their arms _the horn and the hatterell_.

Others relate that it was the baron who remained as hostage: and that on his release from captivity by the Paynim's daughter, and after his departure to his native country, urged by her love towards him, she found her way across the sea, and presenting herself at his castle-gate, with the hatterell of his hair which she had preserved as a token, was joyfully recognized by the Baron, who made her his wife and the mistress of his halls.

It is, on various grounds, an anachronism to refer this tradition to the period when the Lucies were Lords of Egremont. For, according to Denton, the great seignory of Millom "in the time of King Henry I. was given by William Meschines, Lord of Egremont, to ... de Boyvill, father to Godard de Boyvill, named in ancient evidences Godardus Dapifer." This accords with the tradition, which is very old, and is given by both Denton and Sandford, and which makes, as we have seen, the Boyvills to be very near of kin to the Lords of Egremont. It also particularises the occasion upon which Millom was transferred to that family; who took their surname from the place, and were styled de-Millom.

That some members of the family were engaged in the crusades, we learn from the record that Arthur Boyvill or de Millom, the third lord, and the son of Godardus Dapifer, granted to the Abbey of St. Mary in Furness the services of Kirksanton in Millom, which Robert de Boyvill, his cousin-german, then held of him; and soon after he mortgaged the same to the Abbot of Furness, until his return from the Holy Land.

The crest of Huddleston of Hutton John is, Two arms, dexter and sinister embowed, vested, argent, holding in their hands a scalp proper, the inside gules. The tradition of the Horn of Egremont Castle, which could only be sounded by the rightful lord, and which forms the subject of a fine poem by Mr. Wordsworth, is said properly to belong to Hutton-John, an ancient manor of the Huddlestons, who were descended from the Boyvills in the female line; Joan, the daughter and heiress of the last of the de-Milloms, in the reign of Henry III., having married Sir John Hudleston, Kt.; and thus transferred the seignory into that family, with whom it continued for a period of about 500 years.

The name of Egremont will remind the poetical reader of the story of the "Youthful Romili," celebrated by Wordsworth in his noble ballad "The Founding of Bolton Priory," and by Rogers in his less ambitious lines "The Boy of Egremond." It seems to be by no means certain to which generation of William le Meschines' descendants the tale belongs. Denton says, "Alice Romley, the third daughter and co-heir of William Fitz-Duncan, was the fourth lady of Allerdale: but having no children alive at her death, she gave away divers manors and lands to houses of religion, and to her friends and kinsmen. She had a son named William, who was drowned in Craven coming home from hunting or hawking. His hound or spaniel being tied to his girdle by a line, (as they crossed the water near Barden Tower, in Craven) pulled his master from off his horse and drowned him. When the report of his mischance came to his mother, she answered, "_Bootless bayl brings endless sorrow_." She had also three daughters, Alice, Avice, and Mavice, who all died unmarried, and without children; wherefore the inheritance was after her death parted between the house of Albemarl and Reginald Lucy, Baron of Egremont, descending to her sister's children and their posterity."

This is Whitaker's statement:--"In the year 1121 William le Meschines and Cecilia his wife founded a Priory for canons regular, at Embsay, which was dedicated to St. Mary and St. Cuthbert, and continued there about thirty-three years, when it is said by tradition to have been translated to Bolton, on the following account.

"The founders of Embsay were now dead, and had left a daughter, who adopted her mother's name, Romillé, and was married to William Fitz-Duncan. They had issue a son, commonly called the Boy of Egremond (one of his grandfather's baronies, where he was probably born), who, surviving an elder brother, became the last hope of the family.

"In the deep solitude of the woods betwixt Bolton and Barden, the Wharf suddenly contracts itself to a rocky channel little more than four feet wide, and pours through the tremendous fissure with a rapidity proportionate to its confinement. This place was then, as it is yet, called the Strid, from a feat often exercised by persons of more agility than prudence, who stride from brink to brink, regardless of the destruction which awaits a faltering step. Such, according to tradition, was the fate of young Romillé, who inconsiderately bounding over the chasm with a greyhound in his leash, the animal hung back, and drew his unfortunate master into the torrent. The forester, who accompanied Romillé, and beheld his fate, returned to the Lady Aäliza, and, with despair in his countenance, enquired, 'What is good for a bootless Bene?' To which the mother, apprehending that some great calamity had befallen her son, instantly replied, 'Endless Sorrow.'

"The language of this question, almost unintelligible at present, proves the antiquity of the story, which nearly amounts to proving its truth. But 'bootless Bene' is unavailing prayer; and the meaning, though imperfectly expressed, seems to have been, 'What remains when prayer is useless?'"

The accuracy of this account, though admitted to be true so far as the death of a scion of Romili's house, is however doubted by Dr. Whitaker, who states that the son of the Lady Alice or Aäliza was a party and witness to the charter of translation to Bolton in 1154 of the Canons of the Priory of Embsay, founded in 1121 by William de Meschines and Cecilia de Romili his wife. Besides, as the Boy of Egremond was alive in 1160, and a partaker in the rebellion of the Pictish Celts of Scotland, of which the object was to set him on the throne as the rightful heir, Dr. Whitaker is of opinion that the story refers to one of the sons (both of whom died young) of Cecilia le Meschines, grandmother of Lady Alice.

There is however an oversight of some importance in Whitaker's statement. He altogether omits the second generation of the descendants of William le Meschines. Alice, the daughter of W. le Meschines, married Robert de Romili; Alice, her daughter, married Fitz-Duncan, who assumed the name of his wife, and was William le Romili. If their son was "the Boy of Egremond," he could not have been a witness to the charter of translation in 1154. If he was drowned in the Wharf, his death could not have been the occasion of the refounding of the Priory at Bolton. If the son of Cecilia le Meschines was "the Boy of Egremond"; as he might be so styled from his father's barony; he may have been drowned at the Strid, but his mother could not have been the second foundress of the Priory; for, as Whitaker says, the founders of Embsay were already dead. Tradition, moreover, clings to the name of the Lady Alice, as being that of the pious dispenser of her goods to sacred and religious uses. And however history may conflict with tradition, there will remain, that the Lady of Skipton, Cockermouth, and the Allerdales, bestowed her lands and goods most liberally upon the Abbeys of Fountains and Pomfret, and other religious confraternities; that she, the Lady Alice, seems always to have cherished those dispositions whose spiritual convictions moved in unison with the votive religious practices of the age; and although she, for the health of her dear son's soul (if he it were who perished in the Wharf) could not have founded near the scene of his untimely fate, the Priory before mentioned; its legendary history, which has so enshrined her affections and her sorrows, will continue to connect in the future, as in the past, the image of the youthful Romili with her griefs, and the stately Priory of Bolton with his imperishable name.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] The scalp with the hair attached.

[23] In the early and middle ages kissing was the common form of salutation, and the _osculum pacis_ was a sign of reconciliation and charity. Examples will occur to every reader of Scripture and the classics.

[24] Dr. Whitaker. Vide notes to the "Bridals of Dacre," for instances.

SÖLVAR-HOW.

Up the valley of Brathay rode Dagmar the Dane. There was gold on her bit, there was silk on her rein. You might see her white steed in the distance afar, On the green-breasted hill, shining out like a star; Where beyond her on high in his barrow lay sleeping Old Sölvar the chief; and the shade, that sat keeping His fame, by his tomb sang the Norseland's wild strain.

As the white steed of Dagmar shone, breasting the hill; To the mound where old Sölvar lies lonely and still, In the red light of evening, arresting her gaze, Flocked the meek mountain ewes and the steers up the ways, With the firstlings and yearlings, from hill top and hollow, Gathering far, the sweet voice of the Phantom to follow-- To them sweeter than murmur of fountain and rill.

There was joy in their looks, in their eyes the clear light Glistened searchingly forth on that mystical sight. And from far, too, the white steed of Dagmar the Dane Pricked his ears, stepping proudly, unheeding the rein; And aside to the summit turned joyfully pacing; While the steers and the ewes listened wistfully gazing, And the Phantom sat singing of Sölvar the Bright.

O'er the pools of the Brathay, from Skelwith's lone tower The sire of the princess looked forth in that hour. He beheld the white steed of his child, like a star On the green-breasted hill, and he cried from afar-- "She has heard his wild strains on the hill-top awaken, And I from this hour am alone and forsaken. --Not her voice nor her foot-fall, to come to me more!"

For to Dagmar the fair, when the flocks of the field And the herds were in motion their homage to yield To the bright Norseland Boy--with the fire and the grace Of his sires in his limbs and their pride in his face-- In the garb of his country, rehearsing the story Of chiefs and of kings and the Norseland's old glory-- Was the Phantom in all his bright beauty revealed.

There entranced in that vision, enchained by his tongue, As the strains through his harp-strings melodiously rung, Sat the maid on White Svend mid the yearlings; till now Far departing he turns from the hill's sunny brow; And the ewes at his feet awhile falteringly follow, Then range back bewildered to hill-top and hollow; While the Maid on his fast-fading accents still hung.

Through the still light receding his loose tresses streamed; But to fly with him still was the dream she had dreamed; Side by side o'er the hills, through the valleys, and on To the Norseland to hear his wild songs all alone; And to chase from his lips every accent of sorrow, As they walked through the dawn of a brighter to-morrow Into sunlight that heaven upon earth never beamed.

Springing down from White Svend, swiftly Dagmar the Dane Cast aside on his neck the rich silk-tassel'd rein; With her eyes fixed afar o'er the green mountain sward, Whence the bright Norseland Boy cast a backward regard. Call aloud from thy Tower, call aloud and implore her, Hapless sire! to return, ere the night gathers o'er her! She can hear but the voice of the Phantom's sweet strain.

Light and fleet was her foot over hollow and hill; Till they reached the rude cleft of the deep-roaring Ghyll. On the black dungeon's brink not a moment he stay'd; O'er the black roaring Ghyll glided softly the Shade. Like a thin wreath of mist she descried him far over-- And her cry pierced the night-boding hill tops above her; When down the loose rocks plunged, and bridged the dark Ghyll.

Heard the eagle that shriek from his eyrie on high? Struck his wings the poised rocks as he rushed to the sky? Did the wild goat leap, startled, and press from their hold With his hoof the loose crags?--that they bounded and roll'd Far above, down, and on, soughing, plunging, and clashing, Till they reached the dark Ghyll, and fell, wedging and crashing, In the gulf's horrid jaws, there for ever to lie.

The fleet foot of Dagmar sprang light to the stone, Where it bridged the dread gulf, in the twilight, alone. For one moment she stood with her eyes straining o'er Into space, for the bright one that answered no more. He was gone from the hand she stretched, vainly imploring; He was gone from the heart that beat, madly adoring: And a voice from the waters cried wailingly--"Gone."

Roar thou on, Dungeon-Ghyll! there was mourning in vain In the fortress of Skelwith for Dagmar the Dane. From their tower on the cliff they looked, tearful and pale, On her riderless steed as it came down the vale. In her bower and in hall there was wailing and sorrow. And the hills shone renewed with each glorious to-morrow. But their bright star, their Dagmar, they knew not again.

NOTES TO "SÖLVAR HOW."

While many Celtic names of places remain to attest the prolonged sovereignty of the Britons in Cumbria, by far the greater number refer to a period when the enterprising Northmen, coming from various shores, but all included under the comprehensive title of Danes, had pushed their conquests into the mountain country of Cumberland and Westmorland and those portions of the north of Lancashire, which are comprised within the district of the English Lakes. This territory had become the exclusive possession of the Norwegian settlers. Every height and how, every lake and tarn, every swamp and fountain, every ravine and ghyll, every important habitation on the mountain side, the dwelling place amidst the cleared land in the forest, the narrow dell, the open valley, every one is associated with some fine old name that belonged to our Scandinavian forefathers. Silver How is the hill of Sölvar, and Butter-lip-how, the mound of Buthar, surnamed Lepr the Nimble; Windermere and Buttermere, and Elter-water are the meres and water called after the ancient Norsemen, Windar, and Buthar or Butar, and Eldir, Gunnerskeld, and Ironkeld, and Butter-eld-keld, are the spring or marsh of Gunnar, and Hiarn, and Buthar the Old, or Elder. Bekangs-Ghyll, and Staingill, and Thortillgill, indicate the ravines or fissures, which were probably at one time the boundaries respectively of the lands of Bekan, and Steini, and Thortil; Seatallau and Seatoller were once the dwelling places whence Elli and Oller looked on the plains below them; and in Ormthwaile, and Branthwaite, and Gillerthwaite we recognise the lands cleared amid the forests with the axe, whose several possessors were Ormr, and Biorn, and Geller; while Borrodale, and Ennerdale, and Riggindale, and Bordale recall the days when these remote valleys were subject to the lordly strangers Borrhy, and Einar, and Regin, and Bor. All these names are Scandinavian proper names, and are to be found in the language of that ancient race, of whose sojourn amongst our hills so many traces remain in the nomenclature of the district.

Coming from the wildest and poorest part of the Norwegian coast, and mixing with the Celtic tribes of these regions, in the early ages; those hardy sons of the sea made extensive and permanent settlements among them. They penetrated into the remotest recesses of the mountains, carrying thither their wild belief in the old northern gods, and their rude ideas of a future life. Their warlike recollections, and their attachment to the scenes of their valorous exploits, fostered the notion which was not uncommon among them, that the spirits of chieftains could sometimes leave the halls of Valhalla, and, seated each on his own sepulchral hill, could look around him on the peaceful land over which in life he had held rule, or on that beloved sea which had borne him so often to war and conquest. It was this thought that induced them to select for their burial places high mountains, or elevated spots in the valleys and plains. As a natural result of their long continued dominion in the North of England, they came to be classed in the imagination of the people with invisible and mystic beings which haunted that district. The shadows of the remote old hills were the abodes of enchantment and superstition. And the spirits of the departed were supposed to be seen visiting the earth, sometimes in the guise of a Celtic warrior careering on the wind, and sometimes in the form of one of the old northern chieftains sitting solitary upon his barrow. It is related of one being permitted to do so for the purpose of comforting his disconsolate widow, and telling her how much her sorrow disquieted him. Hence also the dwellers among the hills, it is said, still fancy they hear on the evening breeze musical tones as of harp strings played upon, and melancholy lays in a foreign tongue; a beautiful concert, to which we owe the exquisite medieval legend of the cattle, in thraldom to the potent spirit of harmony that rings through the air, often when no musical sound is audible to the organ of man, pricking up their ears in astonishment, as they listen to the Danish or Norseland Boy, sadly singing the old bardic lays over the barrows of his once mighty forefathers.

It has been conjectured that the colonization of this district by the Northmen was effected at two distinct periods, by two separate streams of emigration, issuing from two different parts of the Scandinavian shore. The first recorded invasion of Cumberland by the Danes appears to have taken place about the year 875; when an army under the command of Halfdene, having entered Northumberland and made permanent settlements there, commenced a series of incursions into the adjacent countries lying on the north and west, and thereby reached the borders of the lake region, first plundering them and finally settling there. The indications of the presence of the northern adventurers in that quarter are found to be more purely of a Danish character than those which abound beyond the eastern line of the district, and which may with great probability be referred to a colonization more particularly Norwegian.