Old-Time Home Life
There is 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 with each 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 purposes is 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. Their stockings, 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 to the 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 and gingerbread, 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 the markets 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 interesting to 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 far the 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 the following 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 the Pacquet of October 23rd, 1792:—“A correspondent says that in the neighbourhood of Greystoke, during the late harvest, added to an increase 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 is still 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 to the 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, another while 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 of April 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.”
Some of the entries are of special interest to Cumberland and Westmorland. Thus in a letter to Daniel Fleming on January 8th, 1674-5, Robert Joplin, writing from Kendal, “apologises for writing as he had not been able to wait upon him. Has been seven weeks in the country, and surveyed and taken account of all the hearths in most of the market towns of this county, and in Cumberland. Had always behaved with all civility. If he will have the duplicates of the surveys made they will be handed in at the next sessions.” A week later Robert Joplin and Richard Bell, the collectors of the hearth tax, report to the justices of Kendal: “Have surveyed most of the market towns in the two counties, levying the tax of 2s. on every fire hearth. Would not proceed to distrain without the justices’ permission. Some refuse to pay because they were not charged before. All kitchens and beerhouses refuse on the same pretence. Many hearths have been made up, most of them lately. We trust that the justices will be very careful in giving certificates.”
A few days afterwards Nathaniel Johnson, another collector of the tax, writes from Newcastle to Daniel Fleming that he “does not think the determination of the justices to proceed in the matter of the hearth money under the old survey, until the new is perfected, is consistent with the law; nevertheless he will yield to their opinion.” Johnson proves to be a difficult official with whom to deal, and he writes to Fleming in July, “Remonstrating against the conduct of the Kendal magistrates in the matter of the hearth money. It has been already decided that smiths’ hearths are liable. The practice of walling up hearths in a temporary manner is plainly fraudulent. The magistrates ought not to countenance such things, nor refuse the evidence of officials engaged in this business, for of course none other can be made. May reluctantly be compelled to appeal against their proceedings.”
These and similar protests did not appear to have much effect, though frequently repeated, and ten years later came an order from the Lord High Treasurer to the Clerk of the Peace of the county of Lancaster, to be communicated to the justices, in view of the difficulties raised by them in the collection of the hearth money: “The duty is to be levied on empty houses, smiths’ forges, innkeepers’ and bakers’ ovens, on landlords for tenements let to persons exempt on account of poverty, on private persons where there is a hearth and oven in one chimney. The duty may be levied on the goods of landlords and tenants which are not on the premises whereon the duty arises.”
There is a rather amusing reference to the subject in a letter sent by William Fleming to his brother Roger Fleming, at Coniston Hall: “Tell the constable the same hearth man is coming again. Tell him to be as kind as his conscience will permit to his neighbours, and play the fool no more. The priest and he doth not know how happy they are.”
The means available, in bygone days, for quenching fire were, everywhere in the two counties, of a most primitive character. In March, 1657, the Corporation of Kendal decreed, as there had “happened of late within this borough great loss and damage by fire,” and the Corporation had not fit instruments and materials for speedy subduing of the flames, that the Mayor and Alderman should each provide two leathern buckets, and each burgess one such bucket, before May 1st following, the penalty being a fine of 6s. 8d. in the case of the leading men, and half that amount for default on the part of others.