Lays and Legends of the English Lake Country

Bekan is Scandinavian, and a proper name: and has probably been localised in this district by the Northmen from the period of its colonisation. It is said to have been quite in accordance with the practice of these rovers to give the name of their chiefs not only to the mounds in which they were buried, but also in many cases to the valley or plain in which these were situated, or in which was their place of residence; or to those ghylls or small ravines, which, with the rivers or brooks, were most frequently the boundaries of property. Bekan's gill may be associated in some way with one of the northern settlers whose name has thus far outlived his memory in the district.

An interesting passage in Mr. Ferguson's "Northmen in Cumberland and Westmorland" bears upon this subject. It refers to the opening of an ancient barrow at a place called Beacon Hill, near Aspatria in Cumberland, in 1790, by its proprietor. Speaking of the barrow, Mr. Ferguson says:– "From its name and its commanding situation has arisen the very natural belief that this hill must have been the site of a beacon. But there is no other evidence of this fact, and as Bekan is a Scandinavian proper name found also in other instances in the district, and as this was evidently a Scandinavian grave, while the commanding nature of the situation would be a point equally desired in the one case as the other, there can hardly be a doubt that the place takes its name from the mighty chief whose grave it was. On levelling the artificial mound, which was about 90 feet in circumference at the base, the workmen removed six feet of earth before they came to the natural soil, three feet below which they found a vault formed with two large round stones at each side, and one at each end. In this lay the skeleton of a man measuring seven feet from the head to the ankle bone—the feet having decayed away. By his side lay a straight two-edged sword corresponding with the gigantic proportions of its owner, being about five feet in length, and having a guard elegantly ornamented with inlaid silver flowers. The tomb also contained a dagger, the hilt of which appeared to have been studded with silver, a two-edged Danish battle-axe, part of a gold brooch of semi-circular form, an ornament apparently of a belt, part of a spur, and a bit shaped like a modern snaffle. Fragments of a shield were also picked up, but in a state too much decayed to admit of its shape being made out. Upon the stones composing the sides of the vault were carved some curious figures, which were probably magical runes. This gigantic Northman, who must have stood about eight feet high, was evidently, from his accoutrements, a person of considerable importance."

The situation of Furness Abbey, in Bekan's Ghyll, justifies the choice of its first settlers. The approach from the north is such that the ruins are concealed by the windings of the glen, and the groves of forest trees which cover the banks and knolls with their varied foliage: but unluckily it has been thought necessary to disturb the solitude of the place by driving a railway through it, within a few feet of the ruins, and erecting a station upon the very site of the Abbot's Lodge. A commodious road from Dalton enters this vale, and crossing a small stream which glides along the side of a fine meadow, branches into a shaded lane which leads directly to the ruins of the sacred pile. The trees which shade the bottom of the lane on one side, spread their bending branches over an ancient Gothic arch, adorned with picturesque appendages of ivy. This is the principal entrance into the spacious enclosure which contains the Monastery. The building appertaining to it took up the whole breadth of the vale; and the rock from whence the stones were taken, in some parts made place for and overtopped the edifice. Hence it was so secreted, by the high grounds and eminences which surround it, as not to be discovered at any distance. The Western Tower must have originally been carried to a very considerable height, if we judge from its remains, which present a ponderous mass of walls, eleven feet in thickness, and sixty feet in elevation. These walls have been additionally strengthened with six staged buttresses, eight feet broad, and projecting nine feet and a half from the face of the wall; each stage of which has probably been ornamented like the lower one now remaining, with a canopied niche and pedestal. The interior of the tower, which measures twenty-four feet by nineteen feet, has been lighted by a fine graceful window of about thirty feet in height, by eleven and a half in width; the arch of which must have been beautifully proportioned. A series of grotesque heads, alternating with flowers, is introduced in the hollow of the jambs, and the label terminates in heads. On the right side of the window is a loophole, admitting light to a winding staircase in the south-west angle of the tower, by which its upper stories might be ascended, the entrance to the stairs being by a door, having a Tudor arch, placed in an angle of the interior. The stairs are yet passable, and the view from the top is worth the trouble of an ascent.

The workmen employed by the late Lord G. Cavendish, state that the rubbish in this tower, accumulated by the fall of the superstructure, which filled up the interior to the window sill, was rendered so compact by its fall, so tenacious by the rains, and was composed of such strongly cemented materials, as to require blasting with gunpowder into manageable pieces for its removal. Prior to its clearance, it was the scene of some marvellous tales disseminated and credited by many, who alleged that this heap covered a vault to which the staircase led, containing the bells and treasure of the abbey, with the usual accompaniments of the White Lady, at whose appearance the lights were extinguished, the impenetrable iron-grated door, and the grim guardian genius. Though many essayed, none were known to have succeeded in the discovery of this concealed treasure house, much less of its contents. The inhabitants of the manor house, on one occasion, were roused from their slumbers by a noise proceeding from the ruins, and on hastening to the spot, discovered that it was made by some scholars from the neighbouring town of Dalton, digging among the ruins at midnight, in quest of the buried spoils.

Within the inner enclosure, on the north side of the Church at St. Mary's Abbey in Furness, a few tombstones lie scattered about in what has formerly been a part of the cemetery. One of these bears the inscription, partly defaced,

HIC JACET ANA F.. … ......TI FLANDREN…,

and commemorates one of the ancient family of Le Fleming.

Michael Le Fleming, the first of the name, called also Flemengar, and in some old writings Flandrensis, was kinsman to Baldwin, Earl of Flanders, father-in-law to the Conqueror; by whom he was sent with some forces to assist William in his enterprise against England.

After the Conquest was completed, and William was seated on the throne of England, the valiant Sir Michael, for his fidelity, and good services against the Saxons and Scots, received from his master many noble estates in Lancashire; Gleaston, and the manor of Aldingham, with other lands in Furness. William de Meschines also granted him Beckermet Castle, vulgarly at that time called Caernarvon Castle, with the several contiguous manors of Frizington, Rottington, Weddaker, and Arloghden, all in Cumberland.

Sir Michael and his heirs first settled at Aldingham. By a singular accident, the time of which cannot now be ascertained, the sea swallowed up their seat at this place, with the village, leaving only the church at the east end of the town, and the mote at the west end, which serve to show what the extent of Aldingham has been. About the same time, it is supposed, the villages of Crimilton and Ross, which the first Sir Michael exchanged with the monks for Bardsea and Urswick, were also swallowed up. After this, they fixed their residence at Gleaston Castle; and it has been conjectured, from the nature of the building, that the castle was built on the occasion, and in such haste, as obliged them to substitute mud mortar instead of lime, in a site that abounds with limestone. Sir Michael, is said, to have also resided at Beckermet.

The little knowledge that we are now able to gather of the first Le Fleming exhibits him in a very favourable light. He was undoubtedly a valiant man; and was acknowledged as such by his renowned master, when, with other Norman chiefs, he was dispatched into the north to oppose the Scots, and awe the partisans of Edwin and Morcar, two powerful Saxons who opposed themselves to the Conqueror for some time after the nation had submitted itself to the Norman yoke, and whose power William dreaded the most. His regard for the memory of his sovereign he expressed in the name conferred upon his son and heir, William. We have glimpses too that in his household there was harmony and kindness between him and his children. To the Abbey of Furness he was a great benefactor. There is an affecting earnestness in the language with which in the evening of his long life he declares in one of his charters—"In the name of the Father, &c. Be it known to all men present and to come, That I, Michael Le Fleming, consulting with God, and providing for the safety of my soul, and the souls of my father and mother, wife and children, in the year of our Lord 1153, give and grant to St. Mary of Furness, to the abbot of that place, and to all the convent there serving God, Fordeboc, with all its appurtenances, in perpetual alms; which alms I give free from all claims of any one, with quiet and free possession, as an oblation offered to God"—saltim vespertinum, he pathetically adds, in allusion to his great age—"at least an evening one." He adds, "signed by me with consent of William my son and heir, and with the consent of all my children. Signed by William my son, Gregory my grandson, and Hugh." Few gifts of this kind show greater domestic harmony. That Michael lived to a very advanced age is evident from this charter signed eighty-seven years after the Conquest; supposing him to be the same Michael Le Fleming who came over with the Conqueror. He was buried with his two sons within the walls of the Abbey Church. His arms, a fret, strongly expressed in stone over the second chapel in the northern aisle indicate the spot where he found a resting place; not the least worthy among the many of the nobility and gentry who in those days were interred within the sacred precincts of St. Mary's Abbey in Furness.

The lands in Furness, belonging to Sir Michael, were excepted in the foundation charter of Stephen to the Abbey. This exception, and the circumstance of his living in Furness, occasioned his lands to be called Michael's lands, to distinguish them from the Abbey lands; and now they are called Muchlands, from a corruption of the word Michael. In like manner Urswick is called Much-Urswick for Michael's Urswick; and what was originally called the manor of Aldingham, is now called the manor of Muchland.

From Baldwin's kinsman, the first Le Fleming, the founder of the family in England, two branches issued. William, the eldest son of Sir Michael, inherited Aldingham Castle and his Lancashire estates. His descendants, after carrying the name for a few generations, passed with their manors into the female line; and their blood mingling first with the de Cancefields, and successively with the baronial families of Harrington, de Bonville, and Grey, spent itself on the steps of the throne in the person of Henry Grey, King Edward the Sixth's Duke of Suffolk, who was beheaded by Queen Mary on the 23rd of February 1554. This nobleman being father to Lady Jane Grey, his too near alliance with the blood royal gave the occasion, and his supposed ambition of being father to a Queen of England was the cause of his violent death. By his attainder the manors of Muchland, the possessions of the le Flemings in Furness, were forfeited to the Crown.

Richard le Fleming, second son of the first Sir Michael, having inherited the estates in Cumberland which William le Meschines had granted to his father for his military services, seated himself at Caernarvon Castle, Beckermet, in Copeland. After two descents his posterity, having acquired by marriage with the de Urswicks the manor of Coniston and other considerable possessions in Furness, returned to reside in that district. The Castle of Caernarvon was abandoned, then erased, and Coniston Hall became the family seat for seven descents. About the tenth year of Henry IV. Sir Thomas le Fleming married Isabella, one of the four daughters and co-heiresses of Sir John de Lancaster, and acquired with her the lordship and manor of Rydal. The manor of Coniston was settled upon the issue of this marriage; and for seven generations more Rydal and Coniston vied with each other which should hold the family seat, to fix it in Westmorland or Lancashire. Sir Daniel le Fleming came, and gave his decision against the latter, about the middle of the seventeenth century. Since that event, the hall of Coniston, pleasantly situated on the banks of the lake of that name, has been deserted.

Singularly enough, the inheritance of this long line also has been broken in its passage through the house of Suffolk. Sir Michael, the 23rd in succession from Richard, married, in the latter part of the last century, Diana only child of Thomas Howard, 14th Earl of Suffolk and Berkshire, by whom he had one daughter, afterwards married to her cousin Daniel le Fleming, who succeeded her father in the title. This marriage being without issue, on the demise of Lady le Fleming, the estates passed under her will to Andrew Huddleston of Hutton-John, Esq., and at his decease, which occurred shortly after, in succession to General Hughes, who assumed the name of Fleming; both these gentlemen being near of kin to the family at Rydal. The title descended to the brother of Sir Daniel, the late Rev. Sir Richard le Fleming, Rector of Grasmere and Windermere; and from him to his son, the present Sir Michael, the twenty-sixth in succession from Richard, the second son of Michael, Flandrensis, the Fleming, who came over with the Conqueror, and founded the family in England.

In this family there have been since the Conquest twelve knights and seven baronets.

The article le is sometimes omitted in the family writings before the time of Edward IV., and again assumed. Sir William Fleming, who died in 1756, restored the ancient orthography, and incorporated the article le with the family name at the baptism of his son and heir.

Rydal Hall suffered much from the parliamentary party: the le Flemings remaining Catholic to the reign of James II. For their adherence to the royal cause in the reign of Charles I., they were forced to submit to the most exorbitant demands of the Commissioners at Goldsmiths' Hall, in London (23 Car. 1) and pay a very great sum of money for their loyalty and allegiance. They were very obnoxious to Oliver Cromwell's sequestrators, and subjected to very high annual payments and compositions, for their attachment to regal government.

THE CHIMES OF KIRK-SUNKEN

Twelve sunken ships in Selker's BayRose up; and, righting soon,With mast and sail stretched far awayBeneath the midnight moon.They sailed right out to Bethlehem;And soon they reached the shore.They steered right home from Bethlehem;And these the freights they bore.The first one bore the frankincense;The second bore the myrrh;The third the gifts and tribute penceThe Eastern Kings did bear.The fourth ship bore a little palmMeet for an infant's hands;The fifth the spikenard and the balm;The sixth the swathing bands.The seventh ship bore without a speck,A mantle fair and clean;The eighth the shepherds on her deckWith heavenward eyes serene.One bore the announcing Angel's song;One Simeon's glad record;And one the bright seraphic throngWhose tongues good tidings poured.And midst them all, one, favoured more,Whereon a couch was piled,The blessed Hebrew infant bore,On whom the Virgin smiled.They sailed right into Selker's Bay:And when the night was wornTo dawning grey, far down they lay,Again that Christmas morn.But through the brushwood low and clearCame chimes and songs of glee,That Christmas morning, to my earBeneath Kirk-sunken Tree.Not from the frosty air above,But from the ground below,Sweet voices carolled songs of love,And merry bells did go.From out a City great and fairThe joyous life up-flow'd,Which once had breathed the living air,And on the earth abode.A City far beneath my feetBy passing ages laid;Or buried while the busy streetIts round of life convey'd.So to the ground I bent an ear,That heard, as from the grave,The blessed Feast-time of the yearTell out the joy it gave;The gladness of the Christmas morn.O fair Kirk-Sunken Tree!One day in every year's returnThose sounds flow up by thee.They chime up to the living earthThe joy of them below,At tidings of the Saviour's birthIn Bethlehem long ago.

NOTES TO "CHIMES OF KIRK-SUNKEN."

In the parish of Bootle is a small inlet of the sea, called Selker's Bay, where the neighbouring people say, that in calm weather the sunken remains of several small vessels or galleys can be seen, which are traditionally stated to have been sunk and left there on some great invasion of the northern parts of this island, by the Romans, or the colonizing Northmen.

Various circles of standing stones, or what are generally called Druidical remains, lie scattered about the vicinity of Black Combe near the sea shore: several indicating by their name the popular tradition associated with them, to which the inhabitants around attach implicit credence, the spot beneath which lie the ruins of a church that sank on a sudden, with the minister and all the congregation within its walls. Hence, they say, the name Kirk-Sank-ton, Kirk-Sunken, Kirk-Sinking, and Sunken Kirks.

THE RAVEN ON KERNAL CRAG

A Raven alighted on Kernal RockAmid thunder's roar and earthquake's shock.O'er the tumbling crags he rolled his eyeRound valley and lake, and hills and sky.'Twas a gloomy world. He settled his headClose into his shoulders and meekly said—"Poor Raven!"The Raven on Kernal Crag grew old:A human voice up the valley rolled.Bel was worshipp'd on mountain brows:Men made huts of the forest boughs:And wrapt in skins in ambush layAt the base of his crag, and seized their prey.An old Raven.The Raven sat in his purple cloke.A Roman column the silence broke.He had watched the eagles around him fly:He saw them perched on spears go by.The legions marched from hill to hill.He settled his feathers; and all was still—Still was the Raven.The Raven was thinking, on Kernal Stone.The hammers of Thor he heard them groan:Regin, and Korni, and Lodinn, and Bor,Clearing the forests from fell to shore;With Odin's bird on their banner upraised.And he quietly said as he downward gazed—"A Raven!"The Raven on Kernal was musing still.King Dunmail's hosts went up the hill,In the narrow Pass, to their final fall.With an iron gaze he followed them all;Till, piled the cairn of mighty stones,Was heaped the Raise o'er Dunmail's bones.Ha! hungry Raven!The Raven on Kernal saw, in a trance,Knights with gorgeous banner and lance,Castles, and towers, and ladies fair.Music floating high on the airReached his nest on Kernal's Steep,And broke the spell of his solemn sleep.A lonely Raven.That Raven is sitting on Kernal Rock;Counting the lambs in a mountain flock.Pleasant their bleat is, pleasant to hear,Pleasant to think of; but shepherds are near.Cattle are calling below in the vale,Maidens singing a true-love tale.List to them, Raven.That Raven will sit upon Kernal RockTill the mountains reel in the world's last shock.Till the new things come to end like old,He will roll his eye, and his wings unfold,And settle again; and his solemn browDraw close to his shoulders, and muse as now.That Raven.

NOTES TO "THE RAVEN ON KERNAL CRAG."

Kernal Crag is a huge mass of solid rock, with a face of broken precipice, on the side of Coniston Old Man. In that unique and admirable Guide Book entitled "The Old Man; or Ravings and Ramblings round Conistone," it is said; "on this Crag, probably for ages, a pair of ravens have annually had their nest, and though their young have again and again been destroyed by the shepherds, they always return to this favourite spot; and frequently when one of the parents has been shot in the brooding season, the survivor has immediately been provided with another helpmate; and, what is still more extraordinary, and beautifully and literally illustrative of a certain impressive scripture passage—it happened a year or two since, that both the parent birds were shot, whilst the nest was full of unfledged young, and their duties were immediately undertaken by a couple of strange ravens, who attended assiduously to the wants of the orphan brood, until they were fit to forage for themselves."

LORD DERWENTWATER'S LIGHTS.

1716

You yet in groves round Dilston HallMay hear the chiding cushat's call;Its true-love burden for the mateThat lingers far and wanders late.But who in Dilston Hall shall gazeOn all its twenty hearths ablaze;Its courteous hosts, its welcome free,And all its hospitality;The grace from courtly splendour, wonBy Royal Seine, that round it shone;Or feel again the pride or powerOf Radcliffe's name in hall and bower;—As when the cause of exiled JamesFilled northern hearts with loyal flames,And summers wore their sweetest smileRound Dilston's Courts and Derwent's Isle;Ere Mar his standard wide unrolled,And tower to tower the rising told,And Southwards on the gathering came,All kindling at the Prince's name?—The glory and the pomp are shorn;The banners rent, the charters torn;The loved, the loving, dust alone;Their honours, titles carved in stone.On Witches' Peak the winds were laid:Crept Glenderamakin mute in shade:El-Velin's old mysterious reignHung stifling over field and plain.Around on all the hills afarHad died the sounds foreboding war.Only a dull and sullen roarReached up the valley from Lodore.Through all the arches of the skyThe Northern Lights streamed broad and high.Wide o'er the realm their shields of lightFlung reddening tumults on the night.Then dalesmen hoar and matrons oldLook'd out in fear from farm and fold:Look'd out o'er Derwent, mere and isle,On Skiddaw's mounds, Blencathra's pile.They saw the vast ensanguined scrollAcross the stars the streamers roll:The Derwent stain'd with crimson dyes:And portents wandering through the skies.And prophet-like the bodings came—"The good Earl dies the death of fame;For him the Prince that came in vain,A King, to enjoy his own again."—The sightless crone cried from her bed—"'Tis blood that makes this midnight red.I dreamed the young Earl heavenward rode;His armour flashed, his standard glow'd."The fearful maiden trembling spoke—"The good Earl blessed me, and I woke.The white and red cockade he wore;He bade adieu for evermore."—Far show'd huge Walla's craggy wallThe 'Lady's Kerchief' white and small,Dropt when, pursued like doe from brake,She scaled its rampart from the lake."I served my Lady when a bride:I was her page:"—A stripling cried."I served her well on bended knee,And many a smile she bent on me."——"Upon this breast, but twenty yearsAre pass'd"—a matron spoke with tears—"I nursed her; and in all her ways,She was my constant theme of praise."—Like flaming swords, that round them threwTheir radiance on the star-lit blue,Flash'd and re-flash'd with dazzling rayThe splendours of that fiery fray.—"When spies and foes watch'd Dilston Hall,To seize him ere the trumpet-call"—A yeoman spake that loved him well—"I brought him mid our huts to dwell."We shelter'd him in farm and bield,Till all was ready for the field,Till all the northern bands aroundWere arm'd, and for the battle bound."Then came he forth, and if he stay'dA few short hours, and still delay'd,'Twas for those priceless treasures near,My lady and her children dear."I heard reproaches at his side!—'Or take this jewelled fan'—she cried,With high-born scornful look and word—And I will bear the warrior's sword!'"He called, 'To horse!'—his dapple greyHe welcomed forth, and rode away.The white and red unstained he wore:His heart was stainless evermore!"—And thus the night was filled with moan.And was the good Earl slain and gone?For him the Prince that came in vain,A King, to enjoy his own again.From Derwent's Island-Castle gate,In robe and coronet of state,A phantom on the vapours borne,Passed in the shadows of the morn.Pale hollow forms in suits of woeAppear'd like gleams to come and go.And wreathed in mists was seen to restA 'scutcheon on Blencathra's breast.—Full soon the speeding tidings came.The Earl had died the death of fame,By axe and block, on bended knee,For true-love, faith, and loyalty.And still, when o'er the Isles returnThe Northern lights to blaze and burn;The vales and hills repeat the moanFor him the good Earl slain and gone.