GIANT’S THUMB, PENRITH.
There is a tradition among some of the old folks of Penrith that the holes at the top of the ancient cross, known as the Giant’s Thumb, in the churchyard, were at one time used for a pillory. The onlyauthority for the assertion seems to have been the late Mr. William Grisenthwaite, builder, who had quite a store of local traditions. It was on his statement that Mr. George Watson included the information in his “Notabilia of Old Penrith.” Mr. Grisenthwaite said the last time the cross was used for that corrective purpose was for the whipping of a young woman, who died of a broken heart in consequence of her shameful exposure. It is but fair to say that other old people of great intelligence declare that they never heard of such an event, and that they do not believe it. Moreover, Penrith possessed stocks, and doubtless a pillory also, not far from where the Monument now stands; hence the statement as to the Thumb being put to such a secular purpose as being used for a whipping-post is greatly in need of confirmation. The stocks at Penrith had not ceased to be used in 1781, having been repaired by Thomas Langhorne in that year, at a cost of £1 14s. Those at Ravenstonedale stood outside the churchyard wall, and near the Grammar School. The stocks at Orton were near the church gate; those at St. Michael’s, Appleby, at Bongate Cross. An iron, with the letters “R. V. T.” (“rogue, vagabond, thief”), was attached to the dock in theCrown Court at Appleby, until the Shire Hall was improved about 1848.
It is recorded that whipping was formerly practised in Appleby to a considerable extent. On October 26th, 1743, it was ordered by the Mayor and Aldermen that the stocks and pillory, then opposite to the house which had recently belonged to a person named Knotts, should be immediately removed to the end of the open Hall, facing the Low Cross, “that being deemed the proper place for the same, and that there be a whipping-post, and a convenient place for burning criminals in the hand, erected there also.” The late Mr. M. Cussons, shortly before his death early this year, told the writer that he particularly remembered the stocks at Appleby. They were placed at the north end of the old Moot Hall, and were removed before 1835, in which year the Corporation fixed the present weighing machine on the site. The stocks were so placed that the culprit undergoing punishment had his back to the building, and faced the church. When they were last used has not been ascertained. There were stocks also at Bongate Cross, but these were removed about thirty years ago by the late Mr. Richardson, the Bongate parish clerk, andgiven by him to the late Mr. G. R. Thompson, Bongate Hall. From the Appleby Corporation records, Mr. W. Hewitson, Town Clerk, finds that in 1767 the grand jury set out to William Bewsher on a lease for 999 years a piece of ground on which to build a smith’s shop, at the north corner of Bridge End, near where the ducking-stool stood.
The last person flogged through the Appleby streets was a man named Johnnie Copeland, a notorious character in his time. This happened about 1819. The crime for which he suffered this punishment was a criminal assault. Mrs. Jane Brunskill, Appleby, now in her ninetieth year, who was an eye witness of the punishment, informed the writer a few months ago that she remembered the occurrence perfectly. The offender was fastened by two ropes, placed round his body, one being held by a man who walked in front, and the other by a man walking behind the culprit. The punishment was inflicted by a prisoner under confinement in Appleby Gaol. They started from the High Cross and proceeded to the Gaol, the man being flogged all the way. This took place on a market day, and the streets were crowded. The governor of the gaol at that time was namedJames Bewsher, and he combined with that office the business of blacksmith, which he carried on in the premises already referred to as being near the place where the ducking-stool stood.
Dishonest workmen also got a taste of the lash occasionally, as witness this newspaper paragraph of January, 1789: “A fancy-weaver, belonging to Messrs. Foster and Sons’ manufactory in Carlisle, was publicly whipped a few days ago, for stealing several of his masters’ patterns, and sending them to a manufactory in Glasgow.”
There is believed to have been no example of riding the stang in Cumberland or Westmorland during the last half century. Previously, however, it would seem to have been an unpleasantly frequent punishment. In theWestmorland Gazettefor December 19th, 1835, a long description was given of “the old but now almost neglected custom.” In this case an Ambleside woman had left her husband and family, and gone with a married man to America. After an absence of eight months she returned, and, said the local journalistic chronicler of the period, “the young men of Ambleside, with that manly and proper spirit which ought to actuate the breast of every noble mind who values propriety of conduct, andthat which is decent and of good report, on Monday procured, instead of a pole, a cart, in which were placed two of their companions, and accompanied by a party of both young and old, proceeded through the town repeating at certain places the following lines:—
‘It is not for my part Iride the stang,But it is for the American——just come hame.’
The fun was continued to the amusement of hundreds for about an hour, but not being satisfied with one night’s frolic, the same party, on Tuesday evening, procured an effigy of the frail lady, and after exhibiting it in every part of the town, publicly burnt it at the Market Cross, amidst the loud hurras of the assembled crowd who had met to witness the sight, and who took that opportunity of testifying their hatred and detestation of such base and abominable conduct as the parties had been guilty of.”
Thetitle of this chapter sufficiently indicates that the legends and superstitions intended to be dealt with are far from including all which might be mentioned; indeed not a tithe of those which are still well known in the two counties can here be touched upon. Mr. Whitfield,M.P., in an address in West Cumberland over thirty years ago,[13]said that the superstitions in the Border country concerning fairies and brownies were more developed, and the belief in spells and enchantments more common than in many other parts of the country. The various circumstances attending the growth of those beliefs led to the conclusion that in the Middle Ages religion as then taught did not exercise any great influence on the Border. Though monasteries were founded on each side of the Border as some protection against the desolations of war, the English did not scruple to ravage the Scottish monasteries during an invasion, and the Scotch treated with corresponding violence the English foundations. At the timeof the Reformation the Border was probably the most ignorant and barbarous district in England.
There is a pretty legend pertaining to St. Bees, which is supposed to have derived its name from St. Bega, an Irish nun, who came to Cumberland about the middle of the seventh century, and, with her sisters, was wrecked near to the headland. “In her distress she went to the Lady of Egremont Castle for relief, and obtained a place of residence at St. Bees. Afterwards she asked Lady Egremont to beg of her lord to build them a house, and they with others would lead a religious life together. With this the Lady Egremont was well pleased, and she asked the lord to grant them some land. The lord laughed at the lady, and said he would give them as much land as snow fell upon ‘the next morning in Midsummer Day.’ On the next morning he looked out from the castle towards the sea, and all the land for about three miles was covered with snow.”[14]
Another tradition associated with West Cumberland is that at Kirksanton. There is a basin, or hollow, in the surface of the ground, assigned as a place where once stood a church that wasswallowed up by the earth opening, and then closing over it bodily. It used to be believed by the country people that on Sunday mornings the bells could be heard far down in the earth, by the simple expedient of placing the ear to the ground. A very similar legend was, in a magazine in 1883, recorded of Fisherty Brow, Kirkby Lonsdale:—“There is a curious kind of natural hollow scooped out, where, ages ago, a church, parson, and congregation were swallowed up by the earth. Ever since this terrible affair it is asserted that the church bells have been regularly heard to ring every Sunday morning.”
If an old tradition is to be believed, one of the most conspicuous land-marks in the north of England should be regarded as a memorial, so far as its name goes. The story is that the cross was planted, by pious hands, in the early days of Christianity, on the summit or table land of the chain of mountains which bounds the eastern side of Cumberland, separately known by different names along their range, but collectively called Cross Fell. At any rate, whether or not it takes its name from its transverse situation to the common run of the immense ridge, this tradition, as the Rev. B. Porteus has remarked, “is preferableto another which traces its derivative to a cross erected for the purpose of dislodging the aërial demons which were once thought to possess these desolate regions, and gave it the name of the Fiend’s Fell.” But the cyclone (the Helm Wind) and the sending for holy men to Canterbury to exorcise “the demon” supports the derivation. Alston Church is dedicated to St. Augustine. Some say the bodies of Christians who had died in the heathen eastern districts were brought “Cross t’ Fell” to be buried in the consecrated land of the primitive Christians of Cumberland and Westmorland.
There is a tradition that an attempt was made time after time to build a church in what is known as Jackson’s Park, Arlecdon, but as often as begun in the day it was destroyed in the night by some unknown and invisible hand. Eventually the attempt was abandoned, and the church built in its present position. Then there is the familiar legend connected with the building of the Devil’s Bridge at Kirkby Lonsdale. There are several versions of the erection of this structure, and as one is just as likely to be wrong as another, the story told by Mr. Speight[15]may be quoted: “Thebridge was built by his Satanic Majesty, according to a compact made between himself and a poor woman who wished to recover her cow which had strayed at low water to the opposite side of the river, but could not do so without the convenient means of a bridge. And so the King of Evil agreed to erect a bridge on condition that he should have the first living thing that crossed. He knew very well of her husband’s coming home from market, and hoped to make good booty. But the cunning woman was equal to the occasion. Seeing the approach of her husband on the opposite hill, she concealed a scraggy, half-starved dog under her apron, and letting it sniff a bone, suddenly tossed the latter over the fine, new made viaduct, and the dog at once bounding after it, she stepped back, and raising her fingers in a vindictive, and certainly most unbecoming manner, lustily exclaimed,
‘Now, crafty Sir, the bargain wasThat you should have what first did passAcross the bridge—so now, alas!The dog’s your right.The Cheater cheated, struck with shame,Squinted and grinned, then in a flameHe vanished quite.’”
At least two legends have come down to us ofthe days of the wolves. A lady belonging to the Lucy family—the great territorial lords of West Cumberland—was one evening walking near to Egremont Castle when she was devoured by a wolf at a place afterwards marked by a stone cairn, and known as Woful Bank. The name of Wotobank is given to a place in the parish of Beckermet. The story here is that Edgar, a lord of Beckermet, and his lady, Edwina, and servants, were at one time hunting the wolf. “During the chase the lord missed his lady, and after a long and painful search the party at last found her body lying on the hill, or bank, slain by a wolf, with the ravenous beast still in the act of tearing it to pieces. In the first transports of his grief, the words that the distressed husband first uttered were, ‘Woe to this Bank’—a phrase since altered and applied to the place as ‘Wotobank.’” Another wolf legend of a somewhat similar character is attached to a well called Lady’s Dub, at Ulpha.
What can only be described as legends—for as to their authenticity it would perhaps not be wise to inquire too closely—belong to the fortunes of several estates in the two counties. One of the owners of Warthell (or Warthol) Hall, in the parish of Plumbland, was notorious for his passionfor card-playing—a form of amusement, by the way, which probably for more than two hundred years has been a favourite among all classes in the two counties. The Lord of Warthell, Mr. Dykes, one evening lost a large sum, and was face to face with ruin. Growing desperate, he determined to risk all on a single game of putt, and at the last deal cried,
“Up, now deuce, or else a tray,Or Warthell’s gone for ever and aye.”
While it would perhaps be unjust even to suggest that the people of Cumberland and Westmorland are now more superstitious than those of other counties, it is nevertheless a fact that many curious beliefs prevailed in the country districts long after they had ceased in other places. The faith in the efficacy of charms has even yet not died away. Toothache has long been a favourite medium for testing the skill of the charmer and the faith of the sufferer. The Rev. H. J. Bulkeley, then rector of Lanercost, who spent much time in collecting records of the old and fleeting beliefs, told in 1885 how the toothache charm was worked. “A boy suffering from toothache was taken to an old blacksmith, who prodded the decayed tooth with a rusty nail; blindfolded the boy, led himinto a wood, and, taking the bandage off his eyes, made him hammer the nail into a young oak; blindfolded him again, and led him out, making him promise not to try and find the tree or tell anyone of it. And that tooth never ached any more!” Another method was to rub, with a stone, the part affected, the operation taking place soon after sunset. While performing the rubbing, the charmer muttered an incantation which does not seem to have been preserved in print, although it is doubtless well known in the country districts.
Fairies have given place to more material creations, but the faith in the “little folk” has not died out, and even yet occasionally the dairy-maid may be seen furtively to put a pinch of salt in the fire at churning time, “so that t’ fairies mayn’t stop t’ butter frae comin’.” The rowan-tree branch used to be placed above doorways to keep away evil influences throughout the north of England, and in the Lake Country the stick used for stirring the cream to counteract the bewitching of the churn is still frequently made of rowan or mountain ash wood.
Among the old superstitions is that of the death strokes:—
“As with three strokes above the testered bedThe parting spirit of its tenant fled.”
The opinion once very commonly prevailed that shortly before the coming of the last summons three distinct raps were heard on the wall immediately over the bed head. This, of course, was nothing more than the noise made by a small worm when trying to bore itself a passage through the decayed woodwork where it had been bred.
“Telling the bees” is a custom in several parts of the country, and is still believed in by some of the old people of these counties. When a death occurred in a household where bees were kept it was deemed desirable for some one to acquaint the occupants of the hives with the fact, and also to tell them on the day of the funeral that the corpse was about to be lifted. The late Mr. W. Dickinson, who by his “Cumbriana,” “Reminiscences,” and “Glossary,” did much to preserve a knowledge of old-time life in the county, said the last case of “telling the bees” which came to his knowledge was at Asby, near Arlecdon, in 1855. To miss taking the doleful news to the bees was held to be a certain way of bringing ill-luck to the house.
Supposed miracle workers have not been lacking.About the middle of the fourteenth century the abbot and canons of Shap had licence from Bishop Kirkby to remove the body of Isabella, wife of William Langley, their parishioner, famed for having miracles done by it, to some proper place within the church or churchyard of Shap, that the reliques might be reverenced by the people with freer and greater devotion.
“Boggles” have been common in all parts of the two counties; needless to say the dreadful apparitions when inquired about in a careful manner have invariably proved to be very commonplace and harmless creatures or articles. “Boggle” is a Norse word, sometimes equal to personification of diety or saint. Natural phenomena, asignis fatuus, account for some; the mist-mirage explains others. The mist is still called “the haut” (the haunt). Witches, too, have abounded—according to report,—and some were drowned, or otherwise persecuted because of their evil repute. Mary Baynes, the witch of Tebay, died in 1811, aged ninety. She has been described as a repulsive looking woman, with a big pocket tied upon her back, and she was blamed for witching people’s churns, geese, and goslings, so that on account of her witchcraft she became aterror to her neighbours. Many strange things which happened were laid to her charge, and thoroughly believed by the people. Ned Sisson, of the “Cross Keys Inn,” had a mastiff which worried old Mary’s favourite cat. The owner decided to have the grimalkin respectably buried in her garden, and a man named Willan dug a grave for it. Old Mary handed Willan an open book, and pointed to something he was to read. But Willan, not thinking it worth while to read anything over a cat, took pussy by the leg, and said:
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.Here’s a hole, and in thou must.”
Mary grew angry, and warned her companion that he would fare no better for his levity. Soon afterwards Willan was ploughing in his field when the implement suddenly bounded up, and the handle struck one of his eyes, causing blindness. Immediately Mary Baynes was given the credit for having bewitched the plough. The old lady seems to have tried her hand also at prophesy. Once when the scholars of Tebay School were out playing, Mary predicted to them that some day carriages would run over Loupsfell without the aid of horses. The railway now goes over a portion of the land to which she referred, whichwas then a large stinted pasture. The best known other “witch” was “Lizzie o’ Branton,” otherwise Lizzy Batty, a remarkable woman, who, in the early years of this century, occupied a cottage on the roadside between Brampton and Talkin. She acted in a peculiar manner, dressed curiously, and generally “acted the part,” with the consequence that she was credited with many supernatural powers. She died in 1817, at the age of eighty-eight. The date of her funeral in Brampton was for long years remembered as the stormiest day the town had ever seen. Although it was in March, yet darkness came on so suddenly that lanterns were lighted at the grave-side, only to be again and again extinguished by the fury of the tempest. A tradition still lingers that those who bore the coffin to the grave solemnly affirmed that it was empty and the body gone.
The belief in the “barguest,” now practically gone, was in comparatively recent times common enough to excite but little notice. The term was generally used to denote any kind of ghostly visitant, but referred more particularly to a fearsome creation which was supposed to haunt the fells and dales, and make a horrible noise. Mr. B. Kirkby, in his “Lakeland Words” (1899), givesthe definition as known in North Westmorland: “One who has the power of foretelling the demise of others; or one who makes a great din.” Mr. Anthony Whitehead says, “A barguest is a spirit known only through the sense of hearing, being a something which, during the dark hours of night, disturbed the last generations of Westmorland with its awful howling.”
There is no lack of ghostly traditions in connection with families. Perhaps the best known is that belonging to the ancient family of Machell, of Crackenthorpe Hall, near Appleby. Lancelot Machell—the same who in open court tore to pieces Cromwell’s new charter for Appleby—married Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Sleddall, of Penrith. Her portrait was found on a panel in Penrith some years ago. She was executrix of her husband’s will, and for some alleged injury to her interest in the estate it used to be said that she paid the Machells ghostly visitations whenever the head of the family was about to die. The country folk used to say that she is laid under the big stone called Peg’s Stone, just below Crackenthorpe Hall, her term of incarceration being 999 years. They also say she has been seen driving along the Appleby road at a great pace with“amber leets” in the carriage, and disappear suddenly in Machell Wood, near the spot called Peg Sneddle’s Trough. Indeed, there is extant a most graphic and brilliant account of her passage of the Tollbar at Crackenthorpe, narrated by one “Brockham Dick” (Richard Atkinson, of the “Elephant Inn”), now many years deceased, who kept the gate in his youth, and who used to stick to it with much detail of thrilling circumstance, how one night in each year, when the “helm” wind was blowing, Mrs. Machell made her appearance and passed this gate in offended state. When storms come on upon the fell, Peg is said to be angry, andvice versâin fine weather. An old tree in the neighbourhood of Crackenthorpe called Sleddall’s Oak, is also associated with Mrs. Machell’s name, and here a female figure is supposed to be seen to sit and weep when any misfortune is about to befall any member of the Machell family.
When farmers find disease among their cattle, whether it be tuberculosis, pleuro-pneumonia, or other undesirable visitation, they no longer pin their faith to the old-time observances. The progress of science has shown better methods of dealing with the disease, and now the stockowners of the northern counties would be the first to ridicule the means taken by their grandfathers for stopping an outbreak. The “needfire,” which has been witnessed by many people who are not yet old, was probably the last remnant of fire-worship in this country. “It was once,” says Mr. Sullivan, “an annual observance, and is still occasionally employed in the dales and some other localities as a charm for the various diseases to which cattle are liable. All the fires in the village are carefully put out—a deputation going round to each house to see that not a spark remains. Two pieces of wood are then ignited by friction, and within the influence of the fire thus kindled, the cattle are brought. The scene is one of dire bellowing and confusion: but the owner is especially anxious that his animals should get ‘plenty of the reek.’ The charm being ended in one village, may be transferred to the next, and thus propagated as far as it is required.”
Miss Martineau, in her “Guide to the Lakes,” tells a story of a certain farmer who, “When all his cattle had been passed through the fire, subjected an ailing wife to the same potent charm.” The last time the “needfire” was usedin the Keswick neighbourhood, Mr. William Wilson says, was in 1841. In some parts of Cumberland and Westmorland there was then an epidemic amongst the cattle. It was brought over the Raise and transferred from farm to farm through the vales. But, at one farm a few miles out of Keswick, the sacred fire was allowed to become extinct, the owner, a well-known statesman, not having sufficient faith in its virtue to take the trouble to transmit it, or even to keep it alight. He told Mr. Wilson that he was severely rated at the time for his lack of faith. That, however, served to kill the popular belief in needfire, and even when the terrible ravages of the rinderpest, foot and mouth disease, and pleuro-pneumonia, were emptying the pockets and breaking the hearts of the farmers, not one of them thought of reviving the old “cure.” The last time, so far as the writer can find, the practice was reported in the newspapers was this paragraph in thePatriotof July 25th, 1834:—“A sort of murrain, or pestilential fever, is at present prevalent in the county of Westmorland, the popular remedy for which is the fumigation of the infected animals with the smoke of needfire, accompanied by certain mystic signs.” The Rev.J. Wharton, however, well remembers the fire being made at Long Marton about 1843-4, during a murrain. The term “needfire” seems to be a corruption of “neatfire,” neat cattle being an old and common term.
Among the legends relating to North-Country residences, an interesting one is concerning Corby Castle and its “Radiant Boy.” This—which corresponds to the “corpse lichten” of other countries—has been described as a luminous apparition which made its appearance with dire results, the tradition being that the member of the family who saw the “Radiant Boy” would rise to great power, and afterwards die a violent death. The only example in proof of the tradition so far made known, however, was that of Lord Castlereagh. That statesman was given a wide margin of time after seeing the spectre, as that was supposed to have happened when he was a young man, and he did not commit suicide until 1822.
The superstition as to the skulls at Calgarth, Windermere, has several parallels. Those two skulls formerly occupied a niche in Calgarth Hall, from which they could not be kept for any long time, though they were reputed to attend thebanquets at Armboth Hall, Thirlmere, of their own accord! Above all, “they were buried, burned, reduced to powder, dispersed by the wind, sunk in the well, and thrown into the lake several times, all to no purpose”—truly wonderful skulls!
The superstition concerning “first-foot” has not yet died out; but the observance is not regarded with that seriousness which ruled half a century ago, and to the next generation, probably, this ancient New Year’s custom and belief will have become part of the history of the bygone.
Closelyassociated with the legends of Cumberland and Westmorland, dealt with in the preceding chapter, are the stories of four “Lucks.” The best known is that of Eden Hall, which has been made the theme for poems and innumerable descriptive articles. The most popular version of the origin of the Luck is that when a servant was going for water one night to the Fairy Well, in front of the hall he surprised a number of fairies at their revels, with the goblet in the centre of the ring around which they were dancing. The servant seized the Luck, while the fairies gave the ominous warning that
“If this cup should break or fall,Farewell the luck of Eden Hall.”
Numerous poets have woven pretty stories out of the tradition, without attempting to seek the real origin of the treasured possession. The Luck is an ancient glass vessel widening by an easy curve, and terminating in a graceful lip. Its colour is green, with enamel of red, yellow, and blue; one theory is that its origin was Saracenic,and that it was brought from Palestine by a member of the family during the Crusades. Dr. Todd, when Vicar of Penrith, supposed it to have “been used as a chalice, at a time when it was unsafe to have those sacred vessels made of costlier metals, on account of the predatory habits which prevailed on the Borders.” If absolute care can preserve it, the Luck is safe, for along with its leathern case, adorned with vine leaves, and having the sacred monogram “I.H.S.” on the top, the Luck is rarely taken from its place of security—said to be one of the strong rooms of the Bank of England. Whenever the Luck is exhibited to privileged visitors at the hall, the utmost precautions are taken to prevent even the slightest accident.
1.—ANCIENT GLASS VESSEL CALLED THE LUCK OF EDEN HALL.2.—ITS LEATHER CASE.3.—INSCRIPTION ON THE TOP OF THE CASE.
“The Luck of Muncaster” is reputed to have been the gift of Henry the Sixth, who stayed for a brief space with the Penningtons, either in 1461 or 1464. The King was in sore straits, for death had robbed him of the service of many of his most powerful adherents; howbeit he still held the affections of large numbers of people in Cumberland and Westmorland. The owner of Muncaster was one of those able and willing to stand by Henry in his necessity, and kept theKing in safety. The room in which the monarch slept is still preserved with great care; he rested in a carved oak bedstead, which bears his initials and a crown. At parting Henry gave to Sir John Pennington a glass cup or basin, about seven inches in diameter, ornamented with some gold and white enamelled mouldings, with—according to tradition—the assurance that “the family shall prosper so long as they preserve this cup unbroken.” It is unnecessary to do more than mention that this Luck has been celebrated in verse, by way of illustrating the evil designs of a kinsman who desired to destroy both the cup and the fortunes of the Penningtons.
That such a treasured relic should have more than normal risks of misfortune can be well understood. Mr. Roby has mentioned[16]one of its escapes. “The benediction attaching to its security being then uppermost in the recollection of the family, it was considered essential to the prosperity of the house, at the time of the usurpation, that the Luck of Muncaster should be deposited in a safe place. It was consequently buried till the cessation of hostilities had rendered all further care and concealment unnecessary.”The box was allowed to fall when being brought again to the surface, which so scared the owners that they fancied that there would be a sudden end to their prosperity. The fright must have been of long duration, for the story is that forty years elapsed ere one daring member of the family, having seen no ill effects from the fall, had the box opened, and experienced the keen delight of finding the Luck uninjured. In the castle are two paintings, one representing the King giving the cup to Sir John Pennington, and another allowing the King with the Luck in his hand. On an old freestone slab in Muncaster Church is the inscription, “Holie Kynge Harrye gave Sir John a brauve workyd glass cuppe ... whyllys the famylie shold keep hit unbrecken thei shold gretelye thrif.”
“The Luck of Burrell Green,” near Great Salkeld, seems to have passed into the possession of various owners. It is an ancient brass dish of early embossed work, sixteen and a quarter inches in diameter, and one and a half inches deep. Mr. J. Lamb, formerly of Burrell Green, read a paper on the subject two or three years ago to the members of the Archæological Society, and also exhibited the dish. It is circular in form, and atone time appears to have borne two inscriptions, one in large old English letters in an inner circle around its central ornament, and the other in an outer circle, probably in the same style of lettering. Neither inscription is now legible, although on close examination certain letters may still be discerned, this being due, no doubt, to the amount of cleaning and rubbing it has undergone during late years. Thirty years ago, when greater care was taken of the Luck than has since been the case, and the inscription on the inner circle was rather more distinct than it now is, Mr. R. M. Bailey, a London antiquary, tried to decipher it, and was of opinion that it was in Latin, of which the following is a rendering: “Hail, Mary, Mother of Jesus, Saviour of Men.” Like the two other Lucks in Cumberland, the Luck of Burrell Green has its legend and couplet. This is that it was given to the family residing there long ago by a “Nob i’ th’ hurst,” or by a witch, a soothsayer, to whom kindness had been shown, with the injunction that
“If e’er this dish be sold or gi’enFarewell the Luck of Burrell Green.”
The Luck has been in the possession of the respective families residing at Burrell Green for many generations, but its existence has not beenbrought very much before the public. In 1879 the late Mr. Jacob Thompson, of Hackthorpe, made a painting of the Luck. Mr. Lamb added:
“Apart from the value of the Luck as an example of ancient art, it may be said to be still more valuable from the mysterious tradition associated with it, and also as appears very probable from the rendering of the supposed inscription in the sacred use to which in all probability it has at some time been applied. From the style of the inscriptions it appears to be of as early a date as the commencement of the sixteenth century, or probably earlier. On the day Burrell Green last changed owners the Luck fell down three times in succession from its usual position, a circumstance which at that time had not been known to have occurred before, it always having been kept in a secure place.”
“The Luck of Levens” is of a kind quite different from the three already mentioned. Levens Hall has attached to it one of the oldest deer parks in England, and within its borders are some peculiarly dark fallow deer. The local people have come to believe that whenever a white fawn is born in the herd the event portends some change of importance in the House of Levens. Four such cases have occurred within living memory—when Lord Templetown came to Levens after the Crimean War, after General Upton’s death in 1883, on the day after Captainand Mrs. Bagot’s wedding in 1885, and in February, 1896, when Mrs. Bagot bore to Levens a male heir. Mr. Curwen, in his monograph on the house, mentions the following “to illustrate the superstition that had gathered round the white deer so early as Lord Templetown’s residence at Levens, between 1850 and 1860”:—
“A white buck which had appeared in the herd was ordered to be shot, but the keeper was so horrified with the deed, which he thought to be ‘waur ner robbin’ a church,’ that he actually went so far as to remonstrate with the Crimean veteran. Persuasion being of no use, he at last refused point blank to do the deed himself, and another man had to do it for him. In a few months great troubles came over the house. In quick succession it changed hands twice; the stewards, servants, and gardeners all lost their places; and the keeper firmly held to the belief that all was due to the shooting of this white deer.”
Whilesome of the quaint laws connected with markets and fairs in other parts of the country are unknown in Cumberland and Westmorland, others not less interesting may be found in these counties. The searcher after such old-time lore may find a good deal of it in the standard histories, but still more in those byways of local literature which are too much neglected. In this chapter no attempt can be made to do more than touch the fringe of the subject.
There is in existence in the Dean and Chapter Library at Carlisle a monition probably dated towards the end of the fourteenth century addressed to the clergy of the diocese, requiring them to see the constitution of Otho strictly carried out—all fairs being banished from churchyards and suspended on Sundays and solemn feasts. Churchyard fairs were for the emolument of the churches, and were styled by the name of the saint whose example is inculcated by the church’s name. The late Canon Simpson, one of the most eminent antiquaries in the two counties, proved that, inEngland at least, no church was ever dedicated literally to a saint. Fairs, especially “pot fairs,” still prevail in church cloisters in Germany.
Meat selling at church doors was common in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and even so late as the time of Charles the Second. The only instance of such a thing occurring in Cumberland of which there is record now was at Wigton. In one of the old local histories appears the following note:—“The Rev. Thomas Warcup, who erected his monument in the churchyard long before his death, was obliged to fly from Wigton on account of his loyalty during the Civil Wars. After the restoration of King Charles he returned to the Vicarage, and tradition says that the butcher market was then held upon the Sunday. The butchers hung up carcases at the church door, to attract the notice of customers as they went in and came out of church, and it was not unusual to see people who made their bargains before prayer began, hang their joints of meat over the backs of the seats, until the pious clergyman had finished the service. The zealous priest, after having long but ineffectually endeavoured to make his congregation sensible of the indecency of such practices, undertook a journey to London on foot,for the purpose of petitioning the King to have the market day established on the Tuesday, and which he had interest enough to obtain.”
Warcup became Vicar of Wigton in 1612, and possibly on the principle that he was the best qualified to write his own epitaph because he knew himself better than was possible for another to know him, he prepared the following, which he had put on a headstone many years before his death:—
“Thomas Warcup prepar’d this stone,To mind him of his best home.Little but sin & misery here,Till we be carried on our bier.Out of the grave & earth’s dust,The Lord will raise me up I trust;To live with Christ eternallie,Who, me to save, himself did die.”
There was a keen rivalry between Crosthwaite and Cockermouth at the beginning of the fourteenth century. The townsmen sent a petition to Parliament in 1306, stating that owing to the sale of corn, flour, beans, flesh, fish, and other kinds of merchandise at Crosthwaite Church on Sundays, their market was declining so fast that the persons who farmed the tolls from the King were unable to pay the rent. An order was soonafterwards issued stopping the Sunday trading at Crosthwaite. But the fairs and markets in churchyards on week-days were not prohibited by statute for two hundred and eighty years after the Cockermothians sought protection. The orders thus issued were not long recognised, but collectors of scraps of local history in all parts of the county have added to the general knowledge on this point.
The announcing of sales in churchyards was in the early part of this century a common custom. At Crosby Ravensworth the clerk hurried from his desk immediately the service was concluded, followed by the congregation, and mounting the steps he announced when a person’s sale by auction would take place, and read out any notice given to him, for which service he received a fee of fourpence. The custom has long since become obsolete; old William Richardson called the last notice in 1837. It has been asserted, with what amount of truth need not be too closely inquired into, that when this method of advertising public events was forbidden, the attendance of the parishioners at public worship showed a rapid falling-off. The custom of churchyard proclamations prevailed at Orton in the early part ofthe century, and the inscriptions on certain horizontal tombstones have been obliterated by the hob-nails in the clerk’s boots. While necessarily there must have been a great diversity in the articles announced in the churches or churchyards as likely to be submitted for public competition, it would be difficult to find a parallel for this paragraph, which appeared in thePacquetfor March 8th, 1791:—“A few months ago a person in very good circumstance at no great distance from Ravenglass buried his wife. His son, a few days since, also became a widower, and on Sunday, 27th ult., a sale of their wearing apparel was published at all the neighbouring parish churches! Whether motives of economy suggested the measure, or a wish to remove whatever could remind the disconsolate survivors of their loss, can only be guessed at.”
Among the relics treasured by Lord Hothfield at Appleby Castle, is an article reminding the visitor of the days when free trading was unknown. This is the principal corn measure which was used in the market at Kirkby Stephen more than two hundred years ago; its purpose and record are stated in the raised letters which run around the copper measure a little below the rim:—
“The measure of Thomas, Earle of Thanet Island, Lord Tufton, Lord Clifford, Westmorland, and Vescy, for the use of his Lopps [lordship’s] market at Kirkby Stephen in Westmorland, 1685.”
In the same building are two other corn measures, smaller than the Kirkby Stephen measure just mentioned. One bears only the word “Thanet,” and a coronet. The other measure, of different design, with the monogram, “A. P.” in raised characters, indicates approximately its age, as it was obviously the property of the Countess Anne of Pembroke. The measures, made of bell metal, formerly in use in Sir Richard Musgrave’s manor at Kirkoswald, are still carefully preserved by Mr. John Longrigg, the last steward.
How long the proclamation has been read at the St. Luke’s Fair at Kirkby Stephen is unknown; certainly for a couple of centuries the practice has been observed, and possibly for a much longer period. Although some of the terms have now no effect, nor the cautions any value, the proclamation is still made, the following being the terms of a recent one:—
“O yes, O yes, O yes, The Right Honourable Henry James Baron Hothfield, of Hothfield, Lord Lieutenant of the County of Westmorland, Lord of the Manor of Skiptonin Craven, and Lord and Owner of this Fair, Doth strictly Charge and Command in Her Majesty’s name that all persons keep Her Majesty’s Peace, and not to presume to ride or go armed during the time of this Fair to the disturbance of Her Majesty’s Peace, in pain to be punished according to the Statute in that case made and provided; and also that all persons bargain and sell lawful and sound goods and merchandise, and pay their due and accustomed tolls and stallages, use lawful weights and measures, upon pain to forfeit the value of their wares and merchandise; and also that buy, sell, or exchange any horse, mare, or gelding, that the sellers and buyers thereof repair to the Clerk of the Tolls, and there enter their names, surnames, and places of abode of all such persons as shall buy, sell, or exchange any such horse, mare, or gelding, together with the price, marks, and vouchers at their perils; and lastly if any person have any injury or wrong done by reason of any bargain or contract, during the time of this Fair, let them give information thereof, and the same shall be tried by a Court of Pie Poudre, according to law.“God save the Queen, and the Right Honourable Henry James Baron Hothfield.”
“O yes, O yes, O yes, The Right Honourable Henry James Baron Hothfield, of Hothfield, Lord Lieutenant of the County of Westmorland, Lord of the Manor of Skiptonin Craven, and Lord and Owner of this Fair, Doth strictly Charge and Command in Her Majesty’s name that all persons keep Her Majesty’s Peace, and not to presume to ride or go armed during the time of this Fair to the disturbance of Her Majesty’s Peace, in pain to be punished according to the Statute in that case made and provided; and also that all persons bargain and sell lawful and sound goods and merchandise, and pay their due and accustomed tolls and stallages, use lawful weights and measures, upon pain to forfeit the value of their wares and merchandise; and also that buy, sell, or exchange any horse, mare, or gelding, that the sellers and buyers thereof repair to the Clerk of the Tolls, and there enter their names, surnames, and places of abode of all such persons as shall buy, sell, or exchange any such horse, mare, or gelding, together with the price, marks, and vouchers at their perils; and lastly if any person have any injury or wrong done by reason of any bargain or contract, during the time of this Fair, let them give information thereof, and the same shall be tried by a Court of Pie Poudre, according to law.
“God save the Queen, and the Right Honourable Henry James Baron Hothfield.”
Needless to say, the Court of Pie Poudre has not sat for many years now.
Many curious and interesting customs were once connected with the holding of markets and fairs; a few of these survive, though not in the form once known. The practice a little over a century ago at Ravenglass, where a fair was held on “the eve, day, and morrow of St. James,” has been thus described: “On the first of these daysin the morning, the lord’s officer, at proclaiming the fair, is attended by the serjeants of the Lord of Egremont, with the insignia belonging thereto; and all the tenants of the Forest of Copeland owe a customary service to meet the lord’s officer at Ravenglass to proclaim the fair, and abide with him during the continuance thereof; and for sustentation of their horses they have two swaiths of grass in the common field of Ravenglass in a place set out for that purpose. On the third day at noon, the Earl’s officer discharges the fair by proclamation; immediately whereupon the Penningtons and their tenants take possession of the town, and have races and other divertisements during the remainder of that day.”
The laws of the old Corporations at Kendal, Carlisle, and Appleby, and the guilds and societies at other places, were very stringent, and far surpassed the most exacting rules of the trades unions in our own day. This statement may speedily be verified by a reference to the reprinted Kendal “Boke of Recorde.” The “shoddy cloth man” appears to have flourished almost as much three hundred years ago as he does to-day; at any rate he was sufficiently in evidence to cause the Corporation to pass a very stringent order inregard to “Clothe Dightinge.” The excuse for the imposition of the regulation was that “Sundry great complaints have been made in open Court of the insufficient and deceitful dressing and dighting of clothes uttered and sold within the town, as well by the inhabitants as foreigners coming to the same, therefore it is ordered by the Alderman and head burgesses of the borough with the full assent of the most part of the fellowship of Shearmen now dwelling within the borough, that if any person or persons either now resident in the town or shall hereafter be resident here or in the country adjoining, shall from henceforth have or bring any pieces of cloth to sell or utter within this borough to any person, not being well and sufficiently dight and dressed throughout in all points alike, as well one place as another, in cotton, nop, or frieze as it ought to be; the same being so found by the four sworn men of the same occupation from time to time appointed, shall forfeit and lose for every such piece 2s. 4d., the half thereof to the Chamber of this borough, and the other half to the takers of the same.”
A further order provided that if any piece of cloth was not “well, truly, and sufficiently made in all places alike, and all parts thereof of likestuff as it ought to be, or which shall not be clean washed and clean without blemish left in it, upon the like pain of 2s. 4d., to be forwarded by the maker to those before limited for the first fault, and for every fault then after committed and duly proved, the fine and penalty to be doubled.” Factory and workshop inspectors, of a sort, were not unknown three hundred years ago. The Corporation ordered the appointment of four members of the “Company and fellowship of tayllers” to be known as searchers or overseers, having power to have the oversight of all faults, wrongs, and misusages happening or done in the trade. The order did not long remain in force before the Corporation decided to repeal them, but two or three years later they were revived by common consent, and ordered to continue during pleasure. In still later times travelling tailors were a brotherhood, and within the last fifty years when on their journeys levied money on the resident fraternity.
Cordwainers, when the “Boke of Recorde” was compiled, were only allowed to do certain kinds of work, and were forbidden to “spetche,” or patch boots. Tailors, too, could not employ any man who might apply for work, there beinga very strict law about the employment of freemen in preference to those not free; nor could the shearmen enjoy any greater liberty in their trading operations. One rule ran: “No countryman or person not free shall be permitted to bargain, buy, exchange, trade, sell, or utter within this borough or the precincts hereof, any clothes for outside as a shearman, save only such as be occupiers now of the same trade, or such as shall purchase their freedom, upon pain to lose ten shillings, whereof to the Chamber 5s., and Company 5s.”
There was a salutary rule about the selling of meat on Sundays: “From henceforth no butcher, or other his servant, or factor shall sell or utter any flesh or other victuals or meat out of any shop or stall within the borough or liberties, or the precincts of the same, or keep any his or their shop or warehouses open or unshut up after the ending of the third peal or bells ringing to morning or evening prayer on any Sunday or other festival day, upon pain to lose to the Chamber of this borough 12d.”
The laws against forestalling, regrating, ingrossing, and otherwise interfering with the due course of trade, were very strict in the markets held under manors and also in those otherwiseregulated. The practice was, however, not peculiar to Cumberland and Westmorland. One other rule from Kendal may be mentioned as showing the steps taken for preventing skins being hoarded up, until prices became high: “It shall not be lawful for any butcher or other person dwelling out of this borough or the liberties of the same from henceforth to bring into the borough to be sold, either on the market day or in the week-day any sheepskin (except the same skin—having the ears upon it—be cleaving unto the head or carcase of such flesh where upon it did grow) being so brought to be sold, nor that they nor any of them shall sell, or offer, or put to sale, any such skin on any market day so brought to be sold unto the borough before ten o’clock before noon, upon pain to lose and forfeit as much as 2s.”
The penalty for buying victuals before they arrived at the market was forfeiture, while it was further ordered that “no man or woman shall suffer any corn to be sold or measured in their houses upon pain of 6s. 8d., but that all corn shall be bargained, bought, and measured in open market only.”
An old native of the borough not long agoassured the writer that when he was a boy, in the old coaching days, the suspicion of “poaching” extended even to the lawyers, for, said he, “At the Assizes at Appleby the Bar had all to enter the borough together, or not before a certain hour, lest one individual might secure more than a fair share of the briefs.”
Market-bells are still rung at various places in the two counties. That in St. Andrew’s Church, Penrith, is sounded every Tuesday morning at ten o’clock, before which hour business is supposed to be forbidden. The same rule prevails at Appleby, where the bell hangs in a campanile over the Moot Hall. This, of course, is a survival of the days when forestalling was a very serious offence—and properly so. The archives of the Corporation of Carlisle contain documents bearing on the connection of the bells with trading. Mention of the market-bell appears in the bye-laws of 1561, thus: “Itm that noe outman shall sell any corn to any fore nor to such tym as the market bell be rounge on payn of forfitor.” Happily it is not possible to apply to all the saying used with reference to one old market in West Cumberland—that “it opens at twelve o’clock and closes at noon,” the meaning, of course, being that there is little or no marketleft. It was recorded by Mr. Green, the noted artist, that at Ambleside the market was crowded by small merchants, “who were called together by the tinkling of a small bell. Then all was bustle and animation; joy beamed in every countenance, for all the traffic was for ready money, and every individual lived upon the produce of his labour.”
Thereis a very great store of gossip and anecdote in existence which might be utilised to illustrate the picturesqueness of old-time life in Cumberland and Westmorland. Whether the lack of sanitary comforts, intellectual facilities, and of opportunities of seeing the world or of knowing of its doings, were counterbalanced by the freedom from care and the quiet humdrum lives, which were led by the majority of the people in the two counties, is an open question. An anecdote told in a book published well-nigh a century since, well illustrates the simplicity of life among Lakeland folk generations ago. A foreign physician, eminent in his profession, practiced in the neighbourhood of Keswick. He was one day asked by another medical man how he liked his position. “My situation,” he replied, “is a very eligible one as a gentleman; I can enjoy every species of country amusement in the greatest perfection; I can hunt, shoot, and fish among a profusion of game of every kind; the neighbouring gentlemen, too, seem to vie witheach other in acts of politeness. But as a physician I cannot say that it is so alluring to me, for the natives have got the art of preserving their healths and prolonging their lives without boluses or electuaries, by a plaster taken inwardly, called thick poddish. This preserves them from the various diseases which shake the human fabric, and makes them slide into the grave without pain by the gradual decay of nature.”
As might be supposed, a people possessing so many primitive habits, and whose lives were so circumscribed, had numerous peculiar contrivances in their homes. Some of these have been so long out of use that their purpose has almost passed from memory. Before the days of mineral oils, the general means of illumination, both in mansion and cottage, was the rushlight. These candles were made of the pith of rushes, dipped in melted tallow. They were fixed for use in an arrangement known as a “Tom Candlestick,” which in the early years of this century were common objects in every village home. Mr. Anthony Whitehead, in the last edition of his Westmorland poems (1896), mentions a curious belief in this connection—that the rushes were not considered fit for use unless pulled at the full moon.
A love of finery has seldom been a failing with the residents in the country districts of Cumberland and Westmorland, and especially was this the case before travel became easy. In the days when at the most the ordinary folk only saw the shops of a town on “term day”—and in a vast number of instances that would only occur on a few occasions in a lifetime—dress was of the most homely and substantial sort. “Hodden grey” for the men and correspondingly good wear for the females—most of it home made—were the ordinary fabrics. Clogs were worn at one time by all classes, from parson down to the poorest labourer, and even on Sundays the wearing of boots or shoes was often an indication of the owner being a person of some local consequence. The housewives had a curious method of preserving the stocking heels, which was probably more efficacious than cleanly. They took care to “smear the heels of the family’s new stockings with melted pitch, and dipped them immediately in the ashes of turf. The glutinous mixture incorporated with the woollen, and altogether formed a compound both hard and flexible, which was well adapted to resist the united friction of wood and leather.” The utility of clogs for certain purposesis undoubted, but this useful kind of footgear is apparently losing its popularity.
There have been plenty of descriptions left—by old-time tourists and home historians—at various periods of the methods of life of the people, and they generally agree that the costumes, especially of the dales-folk, were picturesque. The homespun material was frequently undyed, black and white fleeces being mixed to save the expense of dyeing. This homely material, which is still made in some parts of Scotland and Ireland, has in recent years been pronounced by fashion to be superior, for country wear, to the most finished products of the steam loom; so that now the most elegant ladies do not disdain to wear dresses of the self-same homespun of which our ancestors made their “kelt coats.” These coats were ornamented with brass buttons, as were the waistcoats, which were made open in front for best, in order to show a frilled shirt breast. Knee breeches were the fashion for centuries. They were buttoned tight round the body above the haunches, so as to keep up without braces. Those used for best had a knot of ribbon and four or five bright buttons at the knee, and those who could afford it, had them made of buckskin. Theirstockings, which were a conspicuous part of the dress, were also made from their own wool, the colour being generally blue or grey. On their feet they wore clogs on ordinary occasions, but when dressed in holiday costume, they had low shoes fastened with buckles which were sometimes of silver.
That picture is a pleasant one; the life in the home was less picturesque. Churches and farm houses (especially the bedrooms) had next to no ventilation. The sanitary—or rather insanitary—state of country places was deplorable, and fevers of a very fatal character were common. The records of the desolation wrought by some of them is melancholy. Open drains and sewers in immediate proximity to farm houses were very usual. Bedrooms very often communicated through the length of a house. This was economy! A passage or corridor was not required. A leading clergyman, not finding a casement which would open in a church where he was officiating, extemporized ventilation by smashing a pane of glass. In the country cottages and farm houses, as well as in many habitations in the towns, the chimneys had no flues, and were funnel-shaped, being very wide at the bottom and gradually contracting tothe top, where they had an aperture of the size of an ordinary chimney, through which the smoke escaped. In these open chimneys, hams, legs of beef, flitches of bacon, and whole carcases of mutton were hung to dry for winter consumption. Clarke, in his “Survey,” mentions having seen as many as seven carcases of mutton hanging in one chimney in Borrowdale, and was told that some chimneys in the vale contained more. Few of these old-fashioned chimneys are now to be found in the country.
Wheat has never been grown in large quantities in Cumberland and Westmorland; hence the necessity in former days for oat, rye, or barley bread being the staple foodstuffs. Certainly the Westmorland oatmeal, which required to pass through many processes, and to be stored with very great care, was the staff of the rural households. It was used in a variety of ways. There was the porridge for breakfast and supper, the thin oatcake serving the main purposes of white bread in these days, and the “crowdy”—an excellent and invigorating species of soup, made by pouring the liquor in which beef was boiling, over oatmeal in a basin. Oatmeal also entered into the composition of pie-crusts andgingerbread, like the famous Kendal “piggin bottoms”—snaps stamped out of rolled dough by the iron rim which formed the external base of the wooden “piggin” or “biggin,” a diminutive wooden tub used as a receptacle for various household requisites. Many good houses had either no oven or a very small one, and pies were baked in a huge iron pan covered all round and above the massive lid, too, with burning peats. Hence the contents were equally cooked on all sides.
The extent to which flesh meat, both fresh and cured, was used two or three centuries ago, must have been much less per individual than is now the case. Leaving out of account the cost to the poor—and the mere fact that meat was sold for a very few pence per pound does not necessarily indicate that it was therefore low-priced—there was not a great quantity available. The art of winter fattening of sheep and cattle was unknown, and so artificially preserved meat had to be depended upon after Martinmas, or at the best between Christmas and spring. One old chronicler wrote:—“The supply of animal food proved inadequate to the demands of the community, for the fat stock, fed in autumn, being killed off by Christmas, very little fresh meat appeared in themarkets before the ensuing midsummer, except veal. The substantial yeomen, as well as the manufacturers, provided against this inconvenience by curing a quantity of beef at Martinmas, the greatest part of which they pickled in brine, and the rest was dried in the smoke. Every family boiled a sufficient piece of their salt provisions on Sunday morning, and had it hot to dinner, frequently with the addition of an oatmeal pudding. The cold meat came day after day to the table so long as any of it remained, and was as often eaten with oat-bread alone. At the same time a wooden can, full of the briny liquor in which the beef had been cooked, was placed, warm and thickened with a little meal, before each person by way of broth. The stomach was encouraged in the better sort of houses to digest these stubborn materials by a supply of pickled red cabbage, which was prepared for the purpose in October or November. Hogs were slaughtered between Christmas and Candlemas, and converted principally into bacon, which, with dried beef and dried mutton, afforded a change of salt meat in the spring. The fresh provisions of winter consisted of eggs, poultry, geese, and ill-fed veal.”
In this connection it would be very interestingto know whether the provisions of the will made by Thomas Williamson on December 14th, 1674, are in any way carried out, or what has become of the charity. He bequeathed the sum of £20 to be laid out in land to be bestowed upon poor people, born within St. John’s Chapelry, or Castlerigg, Cumberland, in mutton or veal, at Martinmas yearly, when flesh might be thought cheapest, to be by them pickled or hung up and dried, that they might have something to keep them within doors during stormy days.
If animal flesh was dear, despite its small cost, there was some compensation in another way. After the salmon season commenced, great quantities of this modern luxury were brought from Carlisle and West Cumberland, and sold in other markets in the two counties. The price was frequently as low as a penny, and not often higher than twopence per pound, the lack of carriages and roads of a decent character rendering conveyance for long distances anything but an easy task. Then the poverty of the people further south offered the owners of the fish no inducements to carry the commodity into Lancashire. The abundance and cheapness of salmon seem to have been proverbial. How farthe story may be true the writer cannot say, but it is worth while noting that a condition concerning apprentices in some west of England towns, is also recorded as applying to the Charity School at Kendal. The boys apprenticed from that institution were not to be compelled to dine on salmon, or on fish in general, oftener than three days in the week.
Much worse was the condition of the labouring folk of the lower class, who are said to have “subsisted chiefly on porridge made of oatmeal or dressed barley, boiled in milk, with the addition of oat-bread, butter, onions, and a little salted meat occasionally.” This meagre diet was probably the cause of the agues which were once very common, especially in the country districts. The disorder, to a large extent, disappeared when the culture of vegetables became more general, and salted provisions less essential. Up to 1730 potatoes were very sparingly used, and were chiefly grown near Kirkby Lonsdale.
Many of the old stories of the curious methods of dealing with tea, before it became a common and indispensable article on the tables of all classes in this country, are obviously either untrue or exaggerated. Hence the veracity of thefollowing statements, which appeared in print in Westmorland in the first decade of this century, is not vouched for:—“Not long after the introduction of potatoes, tea became a favourite beverage with the women, in spite of a steady opposition from the men; perhaps it found its way into the north in form of presents. From the method of preparing this foreign luxury not being generally understood, these presents were sometimes turned to ridiculous uses. One old lady received a pound of tea from her son in London, which she smoked instead of tobacco, and did not hesitate to prefer the weed of Virginia to the herb of China. Another mother converted a present of the same sort and magnitude into a herb pudding; that is, she boiled the tea with dressed barley, and after straining off the water, buttered the compound, which she endeavoured to render palatable with salt, but in vain, for the bitter taste was not to be subdued.”
How unfavourably the introduction of tea was regarded, by some writers at any rate, may be gathered from the following paragraph, which appeared in thePacquetof October 23rd, 1792:—“A correspondent says that in the neighbourhood of Greystoke, during the late harvest, added to anincrease of wages, the female reapers had regularly their tea every afternoon, and the men, toast and ale. How different is this from the beef-steak breakfasts of old! How degenerate is the present age, and how debilitated may the next be!”
Oat-cake and brown bread are less favoured in the two counties than was formerly the case, a fact which was often deplored by the late Bishop of Carlisle, Dr. Goodwin. It is not a little curious that two articles which formed the staple portions of the diet of the people from sixty to a hundred years ago, should now be regarded more in the nature of luxuries. As an example of the sparing way in which “white flour” was used, an old Appleby native tells a story concerning what happened at a good hostelry in the borough, sixty years ago, at a time when wheaten flour was very scarce, but butcher meat very plentiful. Among other good substantial things on the table was a huge meat pie, at the shilling ordinary. Just, however, as the “head of the table” was about to cut the crust, the waiter whispered to him, “Please, sir, missis says flour is so dear, ye must run t’ knife round t’ crust and lift it clean off on to my tray to do another time.”
From the remains of ancient structures it isstill possible to draw good pictures of the way the old inhabitants passed their lives therein. The late Dr. M. W. Taylor by that means elaborated the story of the daily doings of the people, from lord to vassal, who inhabited Yanwath Hall. A similar picture has been presented by Mr. J. F. Curwen in his monograph on Levens Hall “in the bygone”:—
“Just within would be the raised dais, with its flanking window bay, and the long table, at the higher side of which the lord with his family and any distinguished guests took their meals, whilst on the floor below those of an inferior rank were seated at tables ranging along each side of the room. At the opposite, or western, end, the oaken screens, nine and a half feet high, extended across the full width, dividing off the heck or passage, from which opened out the kitchen, buttery, and other offices, and from over which the musicians in the minstrels’ gallery would on all occasions of more than ordinary importance enliven the feast with their melody. This hall was also used for the transaction of business between the lord and his vassals, for here he would hold his royalty court, receiving their suit and service, and administer justice according tothe powers granted to him by the Crown. At night time the retainers would huddle together on the thickly strewn rushes in the middle of the floor, around the fire and its convolving wreaths of smoke ascending to the open lantern in the roof. For it must be remembered that chimneys were not introduced into England, except to a few castles, until the fifteenth century, about the time when the Redemans would be transferring Levens to Alan Bellingham.”
With chimneys came new taxes, and some of them were not only keenly resented, but evaded as openly as was possible. The people seem to have had a special dislike to the tax of two shillings a year which was passed in the twelfth year of Charles the Second, for that was a heavy sum, having regard to the value of money then. Among the manuscripts preserved at Rydal Hall, Westmorland, by the le Flemings, are a great many references to this tax. There were schemes for substituting other imposts, as appears by a sentence contained in a letter (May 10th, 1669) by Daniel Fleming, Rydal, to Joseph Williamson, who had just purchased the estate of Winderwath, near Temple Sowerby:—“There are rumours one while that the Scots are up in armes, anotherwhile that bishops and dean and chapter lands will be sold, or annext to the crowne in the place of the excise and hearth money, and bishops to be maintained by sallaries out of the exchequer.”
Another document is from the Lords Commissioners to the justices of the peace in the Barony of Kendal, concerning the collection of the hearth tax, and an item in a news-letter of April, 1671, says, “This day the Lord Treasurer received proposals for the farm of the hearth money; those who propose to keep it as it was, advancing only £100,000, are to make a new offer.” During the following summer another came “from the Court at Whitehall” to the justices of the peace for Westmorland, “Cautioning them against allowing exemptions from hearth money too readily. They should consider firstly who are they whom the law intends to be exempted. Then they should appoint petty sessions for the signing of certificates at such times and places that the royal officers may attend and be heard. It cannot be supposed that the law intends to oblige the justices to allow whatsoever shall be offered them without examining the truth thereof.” A news-letter ofApril 23rd, 1674, gives an idea of the extent of the tax in the following sentence:—“This day the farm of the hearth money was made and let to Mr. Anslem, Mr. Perry, and Mr. Buckley, at £151,000 per annum, and £25,000 advance, commencing at Michaelmas next.”