Read Ebook: Tales and Legends of the English Lakes by Armistead Wilson

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 357 lines and 62405 words, and 8 pages

The pair were sauntering along a path cut through the dense coppice, the lady leaning in condescending affection upon the shoulder of her maiden, and listening to a recital of how, on her return from some of her visits to her parents, she had been waylaid by Great Will of the Tarns, and how on a recent evening he had attempted to seize her rein, and would have stopped her, had she not whipped the palfrey and bounded past him. The lady was expressing her indignation at this insolence, when a gigantic figure sprang upon the pathway, and, snatching up the screaming Barbara with the same ease with which she herself would have lifted an infant, vanished on the instant amongst the thick hazels.

The Lady Eva stood for a minute struck powerless with terror and astonishment at this audacious outrage; but the sound of the monster crashing his headlong course through the coppice, and the half-stifled screams of his captive, soon recalled her suspended faculties, and then

"Fair" Eva "through the hazel-grove Flew, like a startled cushat dove,"

back to the hall, where, breathless with terror and exertion, she gave the alarm that Barbara had been carried off by the giant. There was noisy and instantaneous commotion amongst the carousing gentles at the upper, and the loitering lacqueys at the lower end of the hall. Dick Hawksley, and a few more, darted off in immediate pursuit on foot, while several rushed to the stables, in obedience to the call of their young masters, who were, one and all, loudly vociferating for their horses. Scarce a minute passed, ere half a dozen Flemings, attended by as many mounted followers, were spurring like lightning through the wood in the direction of Yewdale. They came in sight of the giant and his burthen as he neared Cauldron Dub, with the light-heeled falconer close behind, calling loudly upon him to stay his flight; but he held on with tremendous strides, till he reached the brow over the pool, when, finding that the horsemen were close upon him, and that it was hopeless to try to carry his prize farther, he stopped--uttered one terrible shout of rage and disappointment--and whirled his shrieking victim into the flooded beck, resuming his now unencumbered flight with increased speed.

Dick Hawksley rushed over the bank a little lower down, and the horsemen, abandoning the chase, galloped to the brink of the stream, which was high with the recent rains. They saw the falconer plunge into the torrent, as the bower maiden, yet buoyant with her light garments, was borne rapidly down. They saw him seize her with one hand, and strike out gallantly for the bank with the other, but the current was too strong for him, encumbered as he was with the girl in his grasp. The devoted pair were swept down the stream, at a rate that made the spectators put their horses to a gallop to keep them in sight, even while the exertions of the brave falconer sufficed to sustain their heads above water, which was only till they came under the bridge, where the water, pent in by the narrow arch, acquired four-fold force, and there they heard him utter a hoarse cry of despair, and the gallant Hawksley and the Lady Eva's beauteous favourite were seen no more, till their bodies were found, days after, on the shore far down the lake.

One or two of the horsemen continued to gallop down the side of the beck, in the bootless hope of being able even yet to render them some aid, but the most of them turned their horses' heads, and went off once more at their utmost speed in pursuit of the murderous giant. He, considering the chase at an end, had slackened his pace, and they were not long in overtaking him. Great Will struck out manfully with his club as they rushed upon him, but they speedily surrounded him, and, amid a storm of vengeful yells and bitter execrations, the Giant of the Tarns was stretched upon the sward, "with the blood running like a little brook" from a hundred wounds; for he was so frightfully slashed and mangled by their swords, that, as my informant naively averred, there was not so much whole skin left upon his huge body as would have made a tobacco-pouch.

It will be apparent enough to the most obtuse intellect, that, after such events as these, the localities where they occurred must, of necessity, be haunted; and, as the ghosts of murderers, as well as of murderees, if they be right orthodox apparitions, always appear to be re-enacting the closing scene of their earthly career, it is scarcely required of me to dilate farther upon the manner of their appearance. Of course I do not expect, and certainly do not wish to be called upon to prove the even-down truth of every particular of the story, with which I have been doing my little best to amuse you; but the assured fact of the Dub and the bridge being haunted, and that by sundry most pertinacious spirits, I am ready to maintain against all comers.

KIRKBY LONSDALE BRIDGE.

A LEGEND.

Near to the bridge which crosses the Lune, not far from Kirkby Lonsdale, the scenery is truly romantic. The river, which is here of considerable width, winds through the bottom of the valley, and is overshadowed by the trees that grow upon its banks. Its current is roughened by the rocks which form its bed, some of which stand up in huge moss-grown blocks in the midst of the stream. The water is clear to a great depth, and the steep grassy banks, and abundance of trees which close in the prospect, give it an air of seclusion. This stream is plentifully stocked with trout and salmon, and here the angler may sit and watch the gilded fly with a devotion worthy of a Davy or a Walton.

The singular construction of the bridge renders it an object of curiosity; and when viewed in connection with the river and valley of the Lune, it forms one of the most romantic prospects on which the eye can dwell. It is composed of three beautifully ribbed arches, the centre one rising to the height of thirty-six feet above the stream. It is a lofty, firm and handsome structure, but so narrow as almost to deserve the taunt cast upon the "auld brig of Ayr:"--

"Where twa wheelbarrows trembled when they met:" at least no two carriages of a larger size can pass each other; but, for the security of the foot passengers, there are angular recesses in the battlements, corresponding with the projecting piers.

Antiquity has cast her veil over this erection, and a consequent obscurity envelopes its history. If, however, we may rely on popular tradition, the building is to be ascribed to an unmentionable personage; of whom it is said, "that he built the bridge one windy night, and that in fetching the stones from a distance, he let fall the last apronfull as he flew over a fell hard by." This gentleman has been "a bridge-builder," "time out of mind," notwithstanding the improbability of his employing "himself in works of so much real utility to men." Such an historical fact may, however, account for the huge blocks of stone found in various parts of the neighbouring moors.

"Still grand, and beautiful, and good, Has Lonsdale bridge unshaken stood, And scorned the swollen, raging flood, For many ages; Though antiquaries, who have tried Some date to find, in vain have pryed In ancient pages.

Then hear what old tradition says:-- Close by the Lune in former days Lived an old maid, queer all her ways, In Yorkshire bred; Though now forgot what she was named, For cheating she was always famed, 'Tis truly said.

She had a cow, a pony too; When o'er the Lune, upon the brow, Had passed one night these fav'rites two, 'Twas dark and rainy; Her cow was o'er, she knew her bellow, Her pony too, poor little fellow, She heard him whinny.

Alack, alack a day! she cries, As overflowed her streaming eyes, When lo! with her to sympathise, Old Nick appears; 'Pray, now, good woman, don't despair, But lay aside all anxious care, And wipe your tears.

'To raise a bridge I will agree, That in the morning you shall see, But mine for e'er the first must be That passes over; So by these means you'll soon be able To bring the pony to his stable, The cow her clover.'

In vain were sighs and wailings vented, So she at last appeared contented, It was a bargain, she consented, For she was Yorkshire; Now home she goes in mighty glee, Old Satan, too, well pleased he, Went to his work, Sir.

When Ilus' son surrounded Troy With walls that nothing might destroy, Two gods some time he did employ, But never paid 'em; Here Satan, certain of his prize, With building made a desp'rate noise, So fast he laid on.

In short, the morning streaks appear, The bridge is built and Satan there, When this old lady now drew near, Her lap-dog with her; 'Behold the bridge,' the tempter cries, 'Your cattle, too, before your eyes, So hie you thither.'

But mark! she well the bargain knew, A bun then from her pocket drew, And showed it first to little Cue, Then overthrew it; Now flew the bun, now ran the dog, For eager was the mangy rogue, Nor stood to view it.

'Now, crafty Sir, the bargain was, That you should have what first did pass Across the bridge, so now, alas! The dog's your right,' The cheater cheated, struck with shame, Squinted and grinned, then in a flame He vanished quite."

THE SPECTRE ARMY.

A WEIRD TALE OF SOUTRA FELL.

Souter Fell, or Soutra Fell as it is sometimes called, is a considerable mountain situated to the eastward of Skiddaw and Blencathara. The west and north sides are barricaded with steep rocks, apparently 900 yards in height, and everywhere difficult of access.

A very remarkable phenomenon has exhibited itself on this mountain, which, though difficult to account for satisfactorily, is too well authenticated by numerous spectators to be discredited. We allude to the appearance of troops of visionary horsemen, crossing the mountains, advancing, retreating, and performing different military evolutions--an optical delusion which has been observed in this vicinity, to the great astonishment of the rustics of the vale.

"As when a shepherd of the Hebrid isles Placed far amid the melancholy main , Sees on the naked hill or valley low, The whilst in ocean Phoebus dips his wain, A vast assembly moving to and fro; Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous show."

THOMSON.

The following account of this singular appearance, which is scarcely paralleled in history, is contained in Hutchison's History of Cumberland, the particulars being collected by Mr. Smith, who observes that he went himself to examine the spectators, who asserted the facts very positively. "On midsummer eve, 1735, a servant in the employ of William Lancaster, of Blakehills, about half a mile from Souterfell, related that he saw the east side of the mountain, towards the summit, covered with a regular marching army for above an hour together. They consisted of distinct bodies of troops, which appeared to proceed from an eminence in the north end, and marched over a niche in the top, marked A and B in the sketch given in the above work; but as no other person in the neighbourhood had seen a similar appearance, he was discredited and laughed at.

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

This phenomenon was no more observed till the remarkably serene midsummer evening which preceded the last Scotch rebellion. The parties who had witnessed it on the previous occasion, having been much ridiculed for their report, were determined to call a greater number of witnesses of this strange phenomenon; and having first observed it rigidly, and with great caution themselves, and being fully assured they were not deceived as to the actual appearances, they convened about twenty-six persons from different places in the neighbourhood to bear testimony to the existence of the fact. These all affirmed, and attested before a magistrate, that they saw a similar appearance to that just described, but not conducted with the same regularity, having also the appearance of carriages interspersed. The numbers of the troops were incredible, for they filled lengthways nearly half a mile, and continued so in a brisk march for above an hour, and would probably have done so much longer had not the darkness of approaching night intervened.

WORDSWORTH.

The horse and man, upon strict looking at, appeared to be but one being, rather than two distinct ones, but they did not at all resemble clouds or vapours of any kind.

William Lancaster observed that he never considered these a?rial images to be real beings, because of the impracticability of a march over the precipices they seemed to traverse, where horses' hoofs had never trod before. They did not, however, appear to be any less real than on the former occasion; for so convinced were the spectators of the reality of what they had seen, that, as soon as the sun had dawned next morning, several of them climbed the mountain, through an idle expectation of finding the marks of horses' feet, after so numerous an army; but when they arrived at the supposed scene of action, not the mark of a single hoof was discernible, nor have any tidings been received of troops being in the neighbourhood up to this time.

As instances have frequently occurred in which the forms and action of human beings have been pictured in the clouds, or in vapour, it seems highly probable, on a consideration of all the circumstances of the case, that certain vapours must have hovered round the mountain when these appearances were observed. It is also possible that these vapours may have been impressed with the shadowy forms which seemed to "imitate humanity," by a particular operation of the sun's rays, united with some singular, but unknown, refractive combination then taking place in the atmosphere.

These optical illusions, occurring on Soutra Fell, form a subject peculiarly adapted for "the poet's pen," and are finely illustrated in the following poem, written in conformity with the popular belief of the lake villagers, that it really was a presentiment of the Scotch Rebellion, and that the horrors of the final battle were depicted in a prophetic manner. There can be no impiety in supposing, as this happened immediately before that rebellion which was intended to subvert the liberty, the law, and the religion of England, that though immediate prophecies may have ceased, these visionary beings might be directed to warn mankind of approaching tumults.

"Look how the world's poor people are amazed At apparitions, signs, and prodigies, Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed, Infusing them with dreadful prophecies."

A VISIONARY TALE OF THE SCOTCH REBELLION.

While yet I gazed on Soutra's fell, A sight appeared , Strange, ominous, and yet obscure, But fate has wrought the vision sure; Too soon explained, it bodes no good, But desolation marks, and blood, I saw at once in full career Equestrian troops dire-armed appear, Descending swift the mountains steep No earthly steed could footstep keep; Yet many hundreds were their might. The glitt'ring stars revealed the sight-- Lightnings, forbidding to conceal, Burst, 'midst drawn swords and helmets' steel. On me when burst their dreadful gleam Faint my sunk soul emits a scream; And Walter Selby thus began-- Shouting till every echo round The mountain nymphs appalled resound; "Saw ever man such gallant sight? A thousand steeds on Soutra's height, Its fierce descent--in martial pride A thousand riders stem its side, With managed pride and daring front! What mortal force shall bide their brunt? See how they gallop down yon rock!-- What mortal eye can bear the shock? The roe of Soutra's lightest bound Shrinks from the delvy deep profound, Where not the falcon strains her flight Above the eagled eyrey's height. O, for a steed so sure and swift That might me with these horsemen lift-- These airy knights! My wanton brown, Famed far and wide for fleet renown, That darts o'er Derwent like a bird, Matched with such palfrey and its lord With wonder froze, its progress slow, Would think the Derwent ceased to flow. Ne'er gossamer in summer race So swift, so sylphy held the chace. Alarm in every village dwells, For we all know what this foretells-- A battle lost, a ruined cause. I heard my father say there was Then seen on dread Helvellyn's side An armed host like this to ride: Yet difference marked--beneath a crown The eye of royalty there frowns; A regal glaive, like mailed Mars, That streams a meteor thro' the wars, Points at their head to Marston Moor, Soon to be drenched with British gore. On those whose standard new unfurls, Menace the coronets of earls; The wode weird sisters waft each count, And thanes ride wild at their surmount. "Now Heav'n's right hand protect us!" cried The dame that shares stern Wilton's pride; ; "What evils shall I yet sustain! Portentous scene--terrific train! What follows these?" with instant breath The pedlar cries; "misfortune--death: To many, misery--death, to some-- Some who are present, sure will come Death sudden, early--" "Cease thy croak, Thou northern raven," Walter spoke; "If they are phantoms, let them pass-- For men of mist what care e'er was In constant souls; if flesh and bone, as I believe, As such I greet them and receive, Good, gallant soldiers for our King-- For them shall then the welkin ring." No sooner said, but seized his horn; Around the mountain echoes borne Resounds the bugle far and wide. The spectred steedmen then descried A mile's full quarter, seem'd to halt; The youth again, with lips at fault, Seized mad the ill-directed horn; His hand the pedlar seized with scorn; "Unhallowed, dare not thus deride What heaven's all pregnant powers confide, For man's instruction is this vision sent;" ; "Young gentleman, be wise, be ruled:" The lost musician stood in silence school'd. The shadowy troops with sword and lance, And martial pride elate, advance; Within a hundred yards they seem; Terrific now their hauberks gleam-- As dazzling more than mortal sight. Yet 'midst my trance of wild affright, I marked them, as along they went, And living forms as such they meant, I then imagined that I knew Of many men in dreadful hue-- Death's pale discolour--doomed the ghost to yield, Instance exact to perish in the field, Or in cold blood to wait their doom-- The scaffold's fate--without a tomb; Pride of the Stuart's strength, nor unallied, In blood, that Brunswick's happier host defied; The Maxwells, Boyds, Drummonds, and Gordons famed, Scots, Ogilvies, Camerons, Foresters, high named! One youth there was--for now the battle raged, A band more powerful, vengeance nigh presaged, A fierce assault proclaims the adverse power-- One youth there was, amidst destruction's lour, Turned still the stream and every foe defied, Oft raised his arm, and oft in blood 'twas dyed; And, as his faint companions fell, he stood Erect in arms, and drenched in hostile blood; At last his prowess sunk--a falchion keen Light' on his helmet, and burst the warrior's screen; Then, as he fell, a visage too well known Burst on my view, with death's stern front though prone, 'Twas Selby's self--his dread eidolon's form, Like Brutus threatened in Philippi's storm. Selby looked thunderstruck with wild amaze, But mortal eye could not abide the gaze. He sunk, forestalled the agonies of death, And on the ground suspended was his breath; His horn then sounds the melody of woe, Some few sad notes that reach the issue's flow, E're the seer's hand had checked his purpose bold; Such notes the furies whilsom did unfold, When Plato gave to Proserpine his hand, And love stood awed, nor dared his force withstand The tyrant's force--we wait all frenzied o'er, And Selby yet alive, as dead, deplore.

All this was horror, but how faint the view To what too soon all real must ensue, Shall I relate how sunk each noble name? Too well 'tis known in blasts of hideous fame; In prose 'tis written, and in verse 'tis strung, And songs funereal the dire dirge have sung. The ruined castle, and the prostrate hall, The exile's wand'ring, and the hero's fall; Sons unattainted, sires suspicion haunts, And childless sires their offspring's exit taunts; Where such is heard in lamentation's air, And more sunk deep in silence of despair; Feelings of family perpetual burn, And tears incessant fill the nation's urn. Such was the scene ere dire Culloden's plain The northern ravens glutted with the slain; Nor rested then, for in the ebon car The dire Erynnis of fell civil war Held yoked her dark steeds from the fatal field, A part succeeded reckless yet to yield, With colours flying, and the pibroch's sound, As if they scorned the violated ground, As vengeance filled their bosoms fraught with ire, As if they sought a respite to retire, On adverse fortune scorned to waste their strength, But thought calamity would reach its length; Then, to return--but nobler thoughts evince, Convinced by reason they salute their Prince, Convinced, revere the majesty of laws, Nor wreck their fortunes in a desperate cause; 'Twas thus each fought with still undaunted heart, And each 'twas thought maintained the better part.

Now civil war has spent its savage rage, Say, shall we now for anarchy engage? Exhaust all purpose of heaven-granted life, For no one purpose but the love of strife. Rather than that, let's seek the pristine Cain, Or rather seek with Lamech's force to reign, Lamech, than Cain, the seven times told more curs'd, For even Cain was not yet found the worst. Then check this brutal rage, while yet there's power, While yet the monster's something to devour; While not by treason borne, to ruin hurled, Stands in its frame the firm majestic world.

Another curious and interesting phenomenon was once observed on Souter Fell, somewhat differing from that already described, though probably resulting from the same combined causes. "One summer evening, in the year 1743, the servant of Mr. Wren, of Wilton Hall, was sitting at the door with his master, when they both saw the figure of a man with a dog, pursuing some horses along the mountain side, a place so steep that a horse could scarcely keep his footing upon it. These visionary forms appeared to run at an amazing pace, till they got out of sight at the lower end of the Fell. Mr. Wren and his servant next morning ascended the steep mountain, expecting to find the man dead, being persuaded he must be killed in galloping at so furious a rate; but to their surprise, they found not a shoe, nor even any vestige whatever of man, dog, or horse." This story they sometime concealed; at length, however, they ventured to relate it, and were , heartily laughed at.

Nearly allied to this is another atmospheric phenomenon, occasionally seen among the mountains, though of rare occurrence. It consists of an a?rial figure, depicted on a dense or misty atmosphere, not unfrequently assuming a grotesque or highly magnified appearance. The same phenomenon has been observed amongst the Scotch mountains. Mr. Smith, M.P. for Norwich, witnessed it in ascending Ben Nevis. On the crown of that mountain there is a crater-like hollow, in which was a misty vapour. In the midst of this appeared a human figure in motion. Mr. Smith held up his hands, and the figure did the same.

This appearance is most rationally explained on the principles of refraction and reflection, the shadowy form being no other than the image of a reality, favourably posited with relation to the refracting medium and the observer's eye. This man-in-the-mist was doubtless the shadow of the real man, created by his coming between the vapour and the sun; yet perhaps the a?rial beings that have been said to people the Highland mountains, may be traced to some such origin.

The appearance of the Spectre of the Broken, an a?rial figure which is sometimes seen amongst the Hartz mountains of Hanover, may be accounted for in the same manner. The following is an interesting account of this phenomenon by M. Hane:--"Having ascended the Broken Mountain," says he, "for the thirtieth time, I was at length so fortunate as to have the pleasure of seeing this phenomenon. The sun rose about four o'clock, and the atmosphere being quite serene towards the east, its rays could pass without any obstruction over the Heinrichsh?he mountain. In the south-west, however, towards the mountain Achtermannsh?he, a brisk west wind carried before it thin transparent vapours. About a quarter-past four I looked round, to see whether the atmosphere would permit me to have a free prospect to the south-west, when I observed, at a very great distance towards the Achtermannsh?he, a human figure of a monstrous size! A violent gust of wind having almost carried away my hat, I clapped my hand to it: and in moving my arm towards my head, the colossal figure did the same.

"The pleasure which I felt at this discovery can hardly be described; for I had already walked many a weary step in the hope of seeing this shadowy image, without being able to gratify my curiosity. I immediately made another movement, by bending my body, and the colossal figure before me repeated it. I was desirous of doing the same thing once more, but my colossus had vanished. I remained in the same position, waiting to see whether it would return; and in a few minutes it again made its appearance on the Achtermannsh?he. I then called the landlord of the neighbouring inn, and having both taken the position which I had taken alone, we looked towards the Achtermannsh?he, but did not perceive anything. We had not, however, stood long, when two such colossal figures were formed over the above eminence, which repeated their compliments, by bending their bodies as we did, after which they vanished. We retained our position, kept our eyes fixed on the spot, and in a little time the two figures again stood before us, and were joined by a third," that of a traveller who then came up and joined the party. "Every movement made by us these figures imitated; but with this difference, that the phenomenon was sometimes weak and faint, sometimes strong and well defined."

RUSTIC POETS OF THE LAKE DISTRICT.

JOHN OLDLAND AND JAMIE MUCKELT.

Among the various traits of local character in the English Lake district, there is not perhaps, one more amusing than that propensity to rhyming which a number of individuals has exhibited, in all the rustic grace of native ignorance. A few instances of this nature can only be admitted within the limited compass of these pages, but they will not be without their interest to those who feel a pleasure in tracing the unassisted efforts of natural genius.

John Oldland was an inhabitant of Crosthwaite, existing about the beginning of the last century. His propensity to rhyming was such, that many of his rhymes, as they are provincially called, are still repeated by the older inhabitants of the neighbourhood. A few, and but a few of these rhymes, we shall here insert.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet