NO one versed in ballad lore—no reader of old poetry and romance, can approach Carlisle for the first time without pleasurable emotion. Carlisle is the border city—the city of King Arthur and his knights. It has been the scene of many a stout siege and bloody feud; of many a fierce foray, and mournful execution, and of many a just punishment upon traitors and reivers. It is, consequently, not to be pictured to the imagination without unusual interest. Old traditions of events like these have made it among the most remarkable of the cities of England; and it would be difficult to name another around which are clustered so many memories of such various degrees of attraction to the poetical and historical antiquary. Its approach from the south, though striking, gives no idea of its antiquity and former feudalism. It is situated in an extensive plain, surrounded in the distance by mountains, amongst which Saddleback, Skiddaw, and Crossfell, are prominent; and from afar off, with the smoke of its households hanging over it, does undoubtedly impress the imagination with ideas of the romantic.
Nearer approach, however, dissipates this illusion. We lose sight of the valley, being in it, and of the mountains, in the presence of immediate objects. Tall chimneys rear their heads in considerable numbers, pouring forth steam and smoke, and with square buildings and their numerous windows, prove incontestably that modern Carlisle is a manufacturing city, and has associations very different from those of its former history. On entrance, the contrast between the past and the present becomes still more vivid. We see that its walls and gates have disappeared; that its streets are clean, wide and comfortable, which no ancient streets in England ever were; and that it has altogether a juvenile, busy, and thriving appearance, giving few signs (to the eye at least) that it has been in existence above a century. It is true that two venerable relics, its castle and its cathedral, remain to attest its bygone grandeur and glory; but these are not immediately visible, and have to be sought out by the enquiring stranger; whilst all around him is modern and prosaic; and a mere reduplication of the same characteristics of English life and manners that he must have seen in a hundred other places.
Still, however, it is "merry Carlisle," and "bonnie Carlisle," although, like all other mundane things, it has been changed by time; and is quite as much King Arthur's city as England is King Arthur's England; and brimfull of associations which the traveller will be at no loss to recall, of the crime and sorrow—the "fierce wars and faithful loves" of our ancestors, from the year 800 downwards to 1745. Not that Carlisle is only a thousand years old. It has a much earlier origin than the year 800, having been founded by the Romans. By them it was called Luguballium, or Luguvallum, signifying the tower or station by the wall, and was so named from its contiguity to the wall of Severus. The Saxons, disliking this long and awkward name, abbreviated it into Luel; and afterwards in speaking of it, called it Caer-luel, or the city of Luel; from whence comes its present designation of Carlisle. It is supposed to have been during the Saxon period, if not the chief city, the frequent residence of that great mythic personage, King Arthur, where he
Among these knights, Sir Lancelot du Lake, Sir Bevis, and Sir Gawaine are the most conspicuous in tradition. One of the most celebrated of our most ancient ballads relates to the latter, and to his marriage with the mis-shapen lady that afterwards became so fair. The story is a very beautiful one; and was the model upon which Chaucer founded his Wife of Bath's Tale. It is worth repeating, for the sake of those to whom the uncouth rhymes of ancient days are not familiar; but though it is likely enough that the number of these is but few, it is too interesting, as connected with Carlisle, to be left unmentioned in a chapter expressly devoted to the poetical antiquities of the place.
King Arthur sets off in a great rage. The opprobrious term, which galled him the more because it was true, fired his blood, and he challenged the "grimme baròne" to mortal combat.
Sir Gawaine, who seems to have been of a stature as gigantic as the famous Sir Hugh Cæsar, who is buried at Penrith, conquered him by enchantment: his sinews lost their strength, his arms sank powerless at his side; and he only received the boon of life at the hands of his enemy by swearing upon his faith as a knight, to return upon New Year's day, and bring "true word what thing it was that women most desired."
King Arthur made due inquiry; but it was not so easy a matter to discover the secret.
As New Year's day approached, his tribulation increased; for though he might have told the "grimme baròne" with much truth many things that women did much desire, he was not at all sure that his version of what they most desired, would hit the fancy of the Lord of Tarn-Wadling, who had set him to expound the riddle. He would not give up, however, and one day,—
This ill-conditioned damsel tells him the secret, however, upon condition that he will bring her a "fair and courtly knight to marry her,"—a condition which, considering all the circumstances, must have seemed to the good king as bad as the jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire. The great secret is, as she expresses it, "that all women will have their wille, and this is their chief desyre," which Arthur forthwith tells to the "grimme baròne;" and so acquits himself as far as he is concerned. The other trouble, however, still remains, and fills the king's mind with anxiety. Queen Guinevere, who was outraged as well as her husband by the opprobrious message of the "grimme baròne," but who had never thought of the very obvious solution of the riddle he had been set, comes out to meet him on his return, and inquires how he has sped. He details his new tribulation in having promised to procure a fair knight to marry this ugly, mis-shapen creature. Comfort is nearer at hand than he thought, and Sir Gawaine, his own nephew, "his sister's son," bids him "be merrye and lighte," for he will marry her, however foul and loathsome she may be. He does so accordingly:—
Agreeably surprised at the change, Sir Gawaine soon learns to love the lady. She informs him that, by a cruel fate, she cannot be fair both night and day; and asks him which he prefers. He hints that the night would be most pleasant; to which she replies:—
The spell is broken. She tells him her history; and that henceforth she shall be fair both night and day.
Another ballad, equally celebrated, though not so beautiful, also relates to King Arthur's residence at Carlisle, and to the truth of the imputation cast upon Queen Guinevere by the "grimme baròne" of the last story. It is entitled "The Boy and the Mantle," commencing somewhat uncouthly:—
This "child" brings that wondrous mantle which no lady who is not chaste can wear; and it is tried upon all the dames of the court. When Queen Guinevere put it on, it was suddenly rent from the top to the bottom, and turned in succession all manner of colours, and is told as follows:—
The lady of Sir Kay, another of King Arthur's knights, tries it on with no better success; and the ballad thus corroborates the old traditions reported by the earliest historians, that the court of the British King was anything but a pure one, "and that Queen Guinevere was noted for breach of faith to her husband," especially with her husband's friend, Sir Lancelot du Lake, the hero himself of many a goodly ballad; and of some passages in the Morte Arthur.
Mixing the real with the fabulous history of Carlisle, and taking both in chronological order, we must leave these ancient ballads to relate that, during the period of the British Kings, Carlisle suffered from the incursions of the Scots and Picts, by whom it was ultimately reduced to ruins; it was rebuilt by Egfrid, King of Northumberland, who surrounded and fortified it with a wall; founded a monastery and a college of secular priests. It was once more destroyed by the Danes, about the year 900, who threw down the walls, burned its houses, chiefly built of wood, and killed every person in it, man, woman, and child. It remained in ruins, it is believed, for nearly 200 years. On the return of William Rufus from Alnwick, after concluding a peace with the turbulent Scotch, he passed over the remains of this once celebrated city, and observing that it must have been a place of great strength, and could be made so again, he resolved to rebuild it for the protection of the border. He did so: and Carlisle became of more importance than it had ever been before. Its castle was built and garrisoned; and every means taken to render it a stronghold both for offensive and defensive warfare. Henry the First completed what Rufus had so well begun, erected Carlisle into an Episcopal see in the year 1132, making Athelwold, his confessor, the first bishop.
In Evans's Collection of Old Ballads is one relating to a bishop of Carlisle at this early period. It is entitled "Bishop Thurston and the King of Scots," and contains some beautiful passages which render it worthy of all the publicity that can be given to it; especially as the whole composition inculcates sentiments of abhorrence for warfare, rare at the time it was penned, but now, happily, in the ascendant. Soon after King Stephen's departure for Normandy, A.D. 1137, the King of Scotland entered England in a hostile manner. Stephen's Government was not in a position to resist an invasion at that time; and the miseries of war were averted by the interposition of the venerable Bishop Thurston, who prevailed upon the Scotch King to meet him at Roxburgh, and used such arguments as induced him to return to his own country in peace. They are said to have been arguments of Christian charity, and not the arguments of policy and the sword, which bishops as well as barons could use in those days. A few stanzas will show the excellent spirit of the ballad.
The arguments used by the bishop to dissuade the invader are of universal interest, and as applicable now as then:—
From the time of Henry I. the place began to prosper, though it appears from Stowe that, in 1829, a great portion of it was burned down. In the year 1300, King Edward I. summoned his barons and knights to meet him here on the feast-day of St. John the Baptist, to prepare for the invasion of Scotland; which was afterwards commenced by the siege of Carlaverock castle. The same monarch also summoned a Parliament to meet here in the year 1307, the last parliament of his reign. A complete list of the members who attended is to be found in Stowe's Annals, including, says the historian, "eighty-seven earls and barons, twenty bishops, sixty-one abbots, and eight priors, besides many deacons, archdeacons and other inferior clerks. The subject of their deliberations was the Scottish war, and the sore annoyance given by Robert Bruce. The King remained here from January, when the Parliament was summoned, during all the winter and summer, disposing of many things concerning Scotland at his pleasure," but vexing himself to death at his inability, from sickness and other causes, to march against Robert Bruce. He had some revenge, however, for a party of his men "capturing one Thomas, that was a knight, and one Alexander, that was a priest and dean of Glasgow," who had been sent by Robert Bruce to "allure away the English people by gentle persuasion;" he had them summarily hanged, drawn, and quartered, and placed their heads upon the gates of Carlisle—those gates where the heads of so many Scotchmen were afterwards to grin in ghastly horror until 1745.
Among the poetical and historical associations connected with Carlisle, the famous battle of Otterbourne, and the still more famous ballad which celebrates it, must not be omitted. In the twelfth year of Richard II., A.D. 1388, the Scotch made a great raid over the border, and ravaged the whole country about Carlisle, driving away large quantities of cattle, and taking no less than 300 men prisoners. Another division of them extended their ravages into the counties of Northumberland and Durham; and grew so insolent as to render a vigorous effort necessary to crush them, on the part of the English.
The version of the ballad, as given by Percy, is the only one of the many versions extant which makes allusion to the party that ravaged Carlisle. The main interest is centred around Newcastle, and on the doings of the other division of the Scotch. There is, however, another ballad of which Carlisle is more exclusively the theme. It is somewhat less known to the English reader, not being found in Percy's Reliques; and describes a scene which was very common to the border for a long period. Mr. Gilbert has illustrated it by a picturesque sketch. The principal portions of this ballad, sufficient to tell the story, are here transcribed. In the year 1596, William Armstrong, of Kinmont, better known as Kinmont Willie, a noted reiver, or border trooper, and stealer of Englishmen's cattle, was taken prisoner by Lord Scrope, the Warden of the Western Marches, and safely lodged in Carlisle Castle. A truce existed at the time between Lord Scrope and the Lord of Buccleugh, who severally watched over the interests of the English and Scottish sides of the border; and the Lord of Buccleugh, incensed that the truce had been broken by the capture of Willie, demanded that he should be set at liberty. Lord Scrope refused; and the Lord of Buccleugh, with a small body of two hundred men, performed the daring feat of surprising the castle of Carlisle, and rescuing his countryman. The "fause Sakelde," alluded to in the ballad, was the then possessor of Corby castle, and sheriff of Cumberland—the chief of the powerful family of the Salkeldes; and "Hairibee" was the slang phrase for the place of execution at Carlisle.
This was a daring exploit, and has been gallantly sung. The words seem to come out of the mouth of one of the very moss troopers who had acted a part in the achievement, and the whole composition is rough but finely flavoured; and strongly dramatic. Queen Elizabeth, when she heard of it, was highly indignant, and "stormed not a little." Two years afterwards, the "bold Buccleugh" was in England, and Elizabeth was anxious to see so doughty a chieftain. He was presented accordingly, and Elizabeth, in a rough and peremptory manner, demanded of him how he had dared to undertake an enterprise so desperate and presumptuous!
"What is it," replied the undaunted Scot, "that a man dare not do?"
Elizabeth, struck with his boldness, turned to a lord in waiting, and said, "with ten thousand men such as this, our brother of Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe."
There is another ballad relating to the same Lord Scrope, and the execution of a noted reiver, named "Hughie the Græme," who had made woeful havoc in his time among the farmsteads of the Marches, and the cattle of "merry England." Hughie did not escape Hairibee. The actual offence for which he suffered was his stealing the Bishop of Carlisle's mare. The following is the ballad:—
There are two or more versions of the foregoing: one in Ritson's Collection; and one communicated by Burns to Johnson's Museum. The ballad of Hobbie Noble relates to a hero of the same stamp, who suffered about the same period, at the same place, for a similar love for English oxen and sheep. Hobbie was an Englishman; who, finding less difference in the laws of "mine and thine" on the Scotch side of the border, and more sympathy with such loose notions of property as he possessed, established himself among the Scotch, and helped them to ravage the country to Carlisle southward, whenever opportunity offered. The Scotch, however, proved false to him. The Armstrongs, amongst whom he was residing, were bribed by the English to decoy him over the border upon pretence of a raid or foray; where he was delivered up to a party from Carlisle castle, that had long been on the look-out for him. By these he was taken to Carlisle, and hanged on Hairibee in less than twenty-four hours afterwards.