Chancellor Ferguson told the members that he had found in some documents, relating to an unnamed Cumberland church, an order that no swine should be allowed in the churchyard unless they had rings in their noses! There are many reminders available of the days when rushes or other growths were put on church floors, by such entries as that in Waberthwaite registers, dated 1755:—“Bent bought, 12d.” At Millom there are charges for dressing the church. Between 1720 and 1783 there are several entries in the Hawkshead registers with reference to “strawing the church”—meaning the covering of the floor with rushes. There are also here, as at Penrith and some other places, allusions to payments for collecting moss, with which the rain was often kept out of the churches.
It was, even within the last half century, a common occurrence for dogs to accompany their owners to church, but the officials did not appreciate the custom. Mr. John Knotts, in 1734, left an estate at Maulds Meaburn for the use of the poor of the township, from which five shillings yearly had to be paid for keeping dogs out of Crosby Ravensworth Church. The legality of the will was disputed on a technicality, and the heir-at-law paid a sum of money instead, which was invested, but how long the crown was paid for anti-dog purposes is not known. The Rev. J. Wilson wrote in his parochial magazine a few years ago:—“In the olden days in Dalston there was an officer whose duty it was to whip dogs out of church during service time, and, strange as it may seem, the custom under another name and in somewhat altered guise existed till the old church was demolished in 1890. The parish dog-whipper had £1 a year for his salary during the latter portion of the 18th century, when the duties of the office were extended to other matters. In the parish accounts the following entry occurs: ‘May 3, 1753 John Gate for whipping the Dogs out of church, opening and shutting ye sashes, sweeping ye church &c. for one year, £01 00 00.’ The same entry occurs regularly every year till 1764, when his widow undertakes the job: ‘May 6th 1764 Wid: Gate for whipping ye Dogs out of ye church, opening and shutting ye sashes, sweeping ye church £01 00 00.’ The office of dog-whipper continues to be mentioned every year till 1774, when it disappears, and the entry is changed to: ‘May 1, 1774, Wid: Gate for cleaning ye church £01 00 00.’” The church records show that at Penrith an annual payment of two shillings was made for many years to the dog-whipper. Among the items bearing on church expenses contained in the Torpenhow registers in 1759, was an annual allowance of 5s. to the sexton for whipping dogs out of the church, and that he might the more efficiently do his work he was granted an extra allowance of 3d. for a whip and 2d. for a thong. There is an item in the Waberthwaite records which runs:—“According to the canons laitly sett down, four sydmen [synodsmen] are to be appointed every year, one of whose duties is to keepe the dogges out of the chirche, 1605.” At Hawkshead a dog-whipper was provided from 1723 to 1784. If the following paragraph, which appeared in the Cumberland Pacquet, in January, 1817, may be believed, there was at least one dog which would not incur the wrath of either parson or dog-whipper:—“Mr. William Wood of Asby, parish of Arlecdon, has a cur dog which for these four years past has regularly attended church, if within hearing of the bells; and what is more singular, the animal never misses going to his master’s seat whether any of the family attend or not.”
Manorial Laws and Curiosities of Tenures.
No doubt because of the proximity of the district to the Border, the tenures by which certain properties were held in Cumberland and Westmorland must be regarded as quite local in their character. The observances are, of course, all the more interesting on that account, and even in cases for which parallels are to be found in other parts of the kingdom, little peculiarities may sometimes be seen in local instances which throw light on the former habits of the people. Lords of manors were once individuals possessed of great powers. The lords of Millom held their property for hundreds of years, and had jura regalia within the seignory, in memory of which a modern stone erected at Gallow, half a mile below Millom Castle, has the inscription,
“Here the Lords of Millom exercised jura regalia.”
The lord of the manor of Troutbeck, Windermere, is also believed to have formerly exercised a jurisdiction over capital offences.
Where such powers existed, it is by no means surprising that the homage exacted from tenants and servitors on various occasions was of a character that in modern days would be regarded as extremely degrading. Thus when a free tenant went to his lord’s residence to do homage according to custom and duty, he was ushered into the presence of his superior without sword or other arms, and with his head uncovered. The lord remained seated, and the tenant with profound reverence knelt before the great man. With his clasped or joined hands placed between those of the lord, the homager repeated the following vow, which seems to have been in practically the same terms in various manors:—“I become your man from this day forward, for life, for member, and for worldly honour, and unto you shall be true and faithful, and bear you faith for the lands that I hold of you, saving the faith that I owe to our Sovereign Lord the King.” The lord, still sitting, then kissed the tenant, as a token of his approbation. In Cumberland and Westmorland there are several villages named Carleton, this being one of the reminders of the days of serfdom. The carls were simply the basest sort of servants—practically slaves.
The former servile condition of the poor in the neighbourhood of barons’ houses is also preserved in such names as Bongate, or as it was always written in old documents, Bondgate, at Appleby. In the great trial between the Cliffords and the burghers, when the former claimed the services of the freemen, it was decided that neither Robert de Vetripont nor any of his heirs ever had seizin of the borough, where the burgesses lived, but that King John gave to him “Vetus Apilbi ubi villani manent”—“Old Appleby, where the bondmen dwell.” The bondmen, or villeins, were probably of the same social standing as those known as drenges, the Cliffords having very many drengage tenements in various parts of their Sheriffwick. “The drenges were pure villeins—doubtless Saxons kept in a state of the vilest slavery, being granted by the lords of the manor, with a piece of land, like so many oxen. In fact they were as much the property of the lord of the manor as the negroes in the West Indian Colonies were formerly the property of the sugar planters. It is probable that the drenges were employed to perform all the servile and laborious offices at Brougham Castle; for in 1359, Engayne, lord of Clifton, granted to Roger de Clifford, by indenture, the service of John Richardson, and several others mentioned by name, with their bodies and all that belonged to them.”[8]