Lancashire: Brief Historical and Descriptive Notes

by Leo H. Grindon

Piel, as said above, is preferable as a route to the Lake District, because of the preliminary half hour upon the water, which is generally smooth and exhilarating. It offers the most interesting way of approach, also, to Duddon Bridge, where the coast of Lancashire ends—a place itself of many attractions. The river, it is scarcely necessary to say, is the Duddon immortalised by Wordsworth, one of whose sonnets describes the "liquid lapse serene" of this too-seldom visited stream as it moves through Dunnerdale, after entering, near Newfield, through a rent in the rocky screen which adds so much to the romantic features of its early existence. The bridge gives ready approach to Black Combe, most gloomy and austere of the Cumberland mountains, but affording full compensation in the magnificence of the prospects, the height being little short of 2000 feet. Close by, in Lancashire, we find the ancient village of Broughton, the lords of which, four or five centuries ago, gave their name to a well-known suburb of Manchester—so curious is the history of estates.

The railway, after touching at Broughton, leads right away to Coniston, then to the foot of the "Old Man," the summit, 2649 feet above the level of the sea, so remarkable in its lines and curves that, once exactly distinguished from the crowd of lower heights, like the head of Ingleborough, it is impossible to be mistaken. Towards the village it throws out a ridge, upon which the houses are chiefly placed. A deep valley intervenes, and then the mountain rises abruptly, the walls in some places nearly perpendicular, but in others disappearing, so that, if well selected, the path upwards is by no means toilsome, or even difficult, though impeded here and there by rocks and stones. The climbing is well repaid. From the brows of the old giant are seen mountains innumerable, lakes, rivers, woods, deep valleys, velvety meads, with, in addition, the accessories of every perfect landscape,—those which come of its being impregnated with the outcome of human intelligence and human feeling, the love of gardens, and of refined and comfortable homes. Looking south, south-west, and south-east, there are changing views of Morecambe Bay, flooded with brightness; the estuaries of the Kent, the Leven, and the Duddon; the capes and promontories that break the sea margin; Walney Island, the shining Irish Sea, with the Isle of Man beyond, and the whole of the long line of coast which runs on to the portals of the Wyre and more distant Ribble.

Over the mouth of the Leven, Lancaster Castle is distinguishable. Far away, in the same line, the lofty ranges of the Craven district come in view; and when the atmosphere is very clear a dim blue mountain wave on the side where sunset will be indicates Snowdon. In other directions the views are somewhat circumscribed, Coniston being situated upon the frontiers rather than within the actual area of the hill country it so greatly enriches. The figure in general, of all that is seen, so far as the nature of the barriers will allow, is nevertheless majestic, and in itself worth all the labour of the ascent. The Old Man, it must be admitted, is prone to hide his ancient brows in mist and vapour; the time for climbing must therefore be chosen carefully and deliberately.

CONISTON

The lake, called Coniston Water, extends to a length of about six miles. It is in no part quite a mile in breadth, but although so narrow never gives the slightest idea of restriction; thus agreeing with Windermere, to which, however, Coniston bears not the least resemblance in detail, differing rather in every particular, and decidedly surpassing it in respect of the wildness and purple sublimity of the surroundings. The immediate borders, by reason of the frequently recurring showers of rain, are refreshingly green all the year round; they allure, also, at every season, by the daintiness and the generosity with which the greater portion has been planted. Beyond the line to which the handiwork of man has been continued, or where the ground becomes steep and rocky, there are brown and heathy slopes, fissures and winding ravines, redolent of light and shade, the sunward parts often laced with little white streamlet waterfalls, that in the distance seem not cascades, but veins of unmelted winter snow. The slopes, in turn, like the arches in a Gothic cathedral, lead the eye upwards to outlines that please so much the more because imperfectly translatable; since when the clouds hover round the summits of these soaring peaks, they change to mystery and fable, wooing the mind with the incomparable charm that always waits upon the margin of the undiscovered.

From what particular point the best views, either of the lake or of the adjacent mountains, are readily obtainable, must of necessity be very much a matter of taste. Perhaps it is discreetest to take, in the first instance, the view up the lake, or from Nibthwaite, where the waters contract, and become the little river Crake—the stream which, in conjunction with the Leven from Windermere, forms the estuary named after the latter.

Contemplated from Nibthwaite, the mountains in which the lake is bosomed are certainly less impressive than when viewed from some distance farther up; but the mind is touched with a more agreeable idea of symmetry, and the water itself seems to acquire amplitude. None of the mountains are out of sight; the merit of this particular view consists jointly in their presence, and in the dignified composure with which they seem to stand somewhat aloof. The view down the lake,—that which is obtained by approaching Coniston viâ Hawkshead and Waterhead, is indescribably grand, the imposing forms of the adjacent mountains, those in particular of the Furness Fells (the altitude of which is nearly or quite 2600 feet), being here realised perfectly, the more distant summits fading delicately, the nearer ones dark and solemn. To our own fancy, the most impressive idea alike of the water and its framework is obtained, after all, not from either extremity, but from the surface, resting upon one's oars, as nearly as possible in the middle. Coniston Water contains a couple of islets, the upper one named, after its abundant Highland pines, "Fir Island." Many streamlets contribute to its maintenance, the principal being Coniston Beck and Black Beck. No celebrated waterfall occurs very near. All the famous lake waterfalls bearing names belong either to Cumberland or Westmoreland.

Windermere, or more correctly, as in the well-known line: