Bygone Cumberland and Westmorland

by Daniel Scott

The ecclesiastical history of Cumberland and Westmorland is curiously interwoven with that of secular affairs. This to a large extent arises from the geographical position of the diocese of Carlisle—and particularly of the diocese before its extension in 1856, up to which year it was the smallest in England. The Bishop of Carlisle in bygone centuries had always to take a leading part in fighting schemes, and as the churches would be the only substantial structures in some villages, they naturally came to be put to other uses than those of worship.

The bishopric was indeed a unique district. Carlisle was the great Border fortress of the West Marches; the Bishop was invariably a Lord Marcher, and often Captain of the Castle. In copies which Halucton (Halton) caused to be extracted from the Great Roll of the Exchequer, frequent references are made to expenses incurred during a siege. These are believed to refer to 1295-6, when the Earl of Buchan and Wallace assailed the city, and when the Bishop was apparently Warden. The ecclesiasts during many hundreds of years must have been almost as familiar with the touch of armour as with that of their sacred robes. Writing on this subject over a century ago a Cumberland authority said:—

“As an example of the prevailing humour of those martial times, what sort of priest must we suppose Cressingham to have been, who never wore any coat that is accounted characteristic of a profession, but that in which he was killed, namely, an iron one. Beck, the fighting Bishop, was so turbulent a mortal that the English King, in order to keep him within bounds, was obliged to take from him a part of those possessions which he earned in battle, and in particular the livings of Penrith and Symond-Burne. But not to mention Thurstan, who fought the battle of the Standard, there are sufficient reasons for believing that most of the priests in the northern parts of England had a double profession, and they are so often mentioned as principals in these continual wars that one cannot help concluding that the martial one was more attended to. When the pastors are such, what must the people be?”

There was a very interesting quarrel—the facts being too numerous to be stated here—concerning the manor of Penrith, and those in some other parts of East Cumberland. They were in the possession of John de Baliol, by virtue of an agreement come to between the Kings of England and Scotland, but afterwards Edward the First quarrelled with Baliol, seized his lands, and granted them to Anthony Beck, the military Bishop of Durham already mentioned. That prelate had assisted the King at the battle of Falkirk, with a considerable number of soldiers, and was greatly instrumental in obtaining the victory. When the Parliament met at Carlisle, however, the grant was disapproved, and as the Bishop did not attend to show by what title he had taken the lands, they were adjudged to belong to the Crown.

The manuscripts of the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle contain many references to the knowledge of war required by the early Bishops. When Linstock was the episcopal residence, it lay exposed to the incursions of the Scots, whose respect of persons, as Mr. C. J. Ferguson has reminded us, was small. In April, 1309, Bishop Halton excused himself from obeying a summons to Parliament, pleading both fear of a Scots invasion and bad health as reasons. Later correspondence showed that the Bishop had been employed by the King as his deputy in suppressing outrages in the West March, and desired to be freed from some of his duties. The King therefore absolved the prelate from the duties to which he objected, but begged him to assume the remainder of the offices in his commission, so as to restrain the lawlessness prevailing on both sides of the Border.

The difficulties of defence, or the constant annoyance, became so great that in 1318 Edward the Second obtained from the Pope the appropriation to the bishopric of Carlisle of the church of Horncastle, Lincolnshire, to be a place of refuge for the Bishop and his successors during the ravages of the northern enemy. Thomas de Lucy, upon the invasion of the Scots in 1346, “joined his strength with the Bishop of Carlisle [Welton], and so alarmed the enemy in the night-time, by frequent entering into their quarters, that at length they fled into their own country. And a truce shortly after ensuing, he was again joined in commission with the same Bishop and others to see the same duly observed.” The Bishop was soon afterwards constituted one of the commissioners for the arraying of men in the counties of Cumberland and Westmorland for the defence of the Borders, the French then threatening an invasion. With the growth of these troubles from abroad, pressure was put upon those who could raise funds, of whom Bishop Appleby was not the least important. “Brevia de privato sigillo quickly succeed one another at this time,” wrote the Rev. J. Brigstocke Sheppard, in 1881,[3] when he had gone carefully through the muniments of the Dean and Chapter. “The King, in an agony of apprehension, occasioned by the threat of invasion, backed by a large fleet collected in the northern ports of France, begs the Bishop again and again to raise a defensive militia, to cause prayers to be offered in all churches, and finally to advance him as much money as he can upon security of the clerical disme which would soon be due.” In a further letter, the King being determined to borrow from such of his subjects as could best afford to lend, ordered the Bishop to send for six of the richest clergy and six of the most affluent laymen in each county, and upon these twenty-four to impose a loan of fifty marks on an average—more upon those who could afford it, and less upon those less able to bear the tax. In 1373 Bishop Appleby was enjoined by the King to reside continually in his diocese upon the Marches, and to keep the inhabitants in a state of defence as a protection to the rest of the kingdom against the Scots.

And so through all the long list of Border troubles the Bishops had to take a conspicuous share in the proceedings, until the ludicrous incident on Penrith Fell, which was the last occasion on which a Bishop took part in fighting on English soil. Various local chroniclers have given different versions, but there seems to be no room for doubt that the one by Chancellor Ferguson is accurate. When in 1715 the Jacobites marched from Brampton to take Penrith, the people from all the country side (though whether the number was 4,000 or 14,000, as variously stated, is not material), armed with guns, scythes, pitch-forks, and other handy if not always military weapons, went on to the fell to meet the rebels. The “posse comitatus were under Lord Lonsdale and Bishop Nicolson, the latter seated in his coach, drawn by six horses. So soon as the Highlanders appeared, the posse comitatus went away; in plain words they skedaddled, leaving the two commanders and a few of their servants. Lord Lonsdale presently galloped off to Appleby, and the Bishop’s coachman, whipping up his horses, carried off his master willy nilly to Rose Castle. It is said the prelate lost his wig, while shouting from the carriage window to his coachman to stop.” The result of this ignominious retreat was that the Jacobites took possession of Penrith for the time being, but behaved well, their most serious action being the proclamation of James the Third, and the capture of a lot of provisions.

From fighting prelates to fortified churches is not a long step. Three or four of these structures have come in for more notice than the rest, although the latter cannot thereby be considered as lacking some of the most interesting features of the others. During the last thirty years the changes necessitated by restorations of churches have caused some of these relics of turbulent times to be somewhat altered; there are still, however, numerous village structures which tell their own story much more vividly, to the trained eye, than could be done by written record. When the late Mr. John Cory, county architect for Cumberland, read his paper on the subject at Carlisle a quarter of a century ago, he pointed out some of the characteristics of these ancient ecclesiastical strongholds: “The distance from each other tells of a scanty population; the deficiency of architectural decoration shows that the inhabitants of the district were otherwise engaged than in peaceful occupations; while traces of continual repairs in the fabric are evidently not to be attributed to the desire shown in the churches of many southern counties to make good buildings better, but have resulted from the necessity occasioned by the partial destruction of churches through hostile aggressions. In many instances it may be said that the church had been erected scarcely less for the safety of the body than for the benefit of the soul.”

That the abbey of Holme Cultram was once both a fortress and a church is shown to this day by the remains of earthworks which once served for its defence. Curious entries in the parish books also indicate the bitter hatred of the Cumbrians for those from over the Border. The value of the abbey is shown by a petition of the inhabitants of the lordship to Cromwell in 1538, when they asked “for the preservation and standynge of the Church of Holme Cultrane before saide; whiche is not onlye unto us our parish Churche, and little ynoughe to receyve all us, your poore Orators, but also a great ayde, socor, and defence for us agenst our neghbours the Scots, witheaut the whiche, few or none of your Lordshipp’s supplyants are able to pay the King his saide Highness our bounden dutye and service, ande wee shall not onelye praye for his graciouse noble estate, but also your Lordshipp’s prosperitie with increase of honour long to endure.”

The tower of Burgh-by-Sands Church, close to the Solway, was built at the west end of the structure, with walls six feet to seven feet in thickness. A further indication of the desire for security is found in the bottoms of the windows of the church, which were placed eight feet from the ground. Entrance to the fortified tower could only be obtained through a ponderous iron door six feet eight inches high, with two massive bolts, and constructed of thick bars crossing each other, and boarded over with oak planks. As only one person at a time could gain access to the vaulted chamber, there was every possibility of offering effective opposition to attacks, while the ringing of the bells would be the signal for bringing any available help. What was true of one side of the Solway was equally true of the other, there being still traces of fortified churches on the Scottish side of the Firth.