BROUGHAM CASTLE.

The next morning, we proceeded from Ullswater along the vale of Emont, so sweetly adorned by the woods and lawns of Dalemain, the seat of Mr. Hassel, whose mansion is seen in the bottom. One of the most magnificent prospects in the country is when this vale opens to that of Eden. The mountainous range of Cross-fell fronted us, and its appearance, this day, was very striking, for the effect of autumnal light and shade. The upper range, bright in sunshine, appeared to rise, like light clouds above the lower, which was involved in dark shadow, so that it was a considerable time before the eye could detect the illusion. The effect of this was inexpressibly interesting.

Within view of Emont bridge, which divides the counties of Cumberland and Westmoreland, is that memorial of antient times, so often described under the name of Arthur's Round Table; a green circular spot of forty paces diameter, enclosed by a dry ditch, and, beyond this, by a bank; each in sufficient preservation to shew exactly what has been its form. In the midst of the larger circle is another of only seven paces diameter. We have no means of adding to, or even of corroborating any of the well known conjectures, concerning the use of this rude and certainly very antient monument. Those not qualified to propose decisions in this respect may, however, suffer themselves to believe, that the bank without the ditch and the enclosure within it were places for different classes of persons, interested as parties, or spectators, in some transactions, passing within the inner circle; and that these, whether religious, civil, or military ceremonies, were rendered distinct and conspicuous, for the purpose of impressing them upon the memory of the spectators, at a time when memory and tradition were the only preservatives of history.

Passing a bridge, under which the Lowther, from winding and romantic banks, enters the vale of Eden, we ascended between the groves of Bird's Nest, or, as it is now called, Brougham Hall; a white mansion, with battlements and gothic windows, having formerly a bird painted on the front. It is perched among woods, on the brow of a steep, but not lofty hill, and commands enchanting prospects over the vale. The winding Emont; the ruins of Brougham Castle on a green knoll of Whinfield park, surrounded with old groves; far beyond this, the highlands of Cross-fell; to the north, Carleton-hall, the handsome modern mansion of Mr. Wallace, amidst lawns of incomparable verdure and luxuriant woods falling from the heights; further still, the mountain, town and beacon of Penrith; these are the principal features of the rich landscape, spread before the eye from the summit of the hill, at Bird's Nest.

As we descended to Brougham Castle, about a mile further, its ruined masses of pale red stone, tufted with shrubs and plants, appeared between groves of fir, beach, oak and ash, amidst the broken ground of Whinfield park, a quarter of a mile through which brought us to the ruin itself. It was guarded by a sturdy mastiff, worthy the office of porter to such a place, and a good effigy of the Sir Porter of a former age. Brougham Castle, venerable for its well-certified antiquity and for the hoary masses it now exhibits, is rendered more interesting by having been occasionally the residence of the humane and generous Sir Philip Sydney; who had only to look from the windows of this once noble edifice to see his own "Arcadia" spreading on every side. The landscape probably awakened his imagination, for it was during a visit here, that the greatest part of that work was written.

This edifice, once amongst the strongest and most important of the border fortresses, is supposed to have been founded by the Romans; but the first historical record concerning it is dated in the time of William the Conqueror, who granted it to his nephew, Hugh de Albinois. His successors held it, till 1170, when Hugh de Morville, one of the murderers of Thomas a Becket, forfeited it by his crime. Brougham was afterwards granted by King John to a grandson of Hugh, Robert de Vipont, whose grandson again forfeited the estate, which was, however, restored to his daughters, one of whom marrying a De Clifford, it remained in this family, till a daughter of the celebrated Countess of Pembroke gave it by marriage to that of the Tuftons, Earls of Thanet, in which it now remains.

This castle has been thrice nearly demolished; first by neglect, during the minority of Roger de Vipont, after which it was sufficiently restored to receive James the First, on his return from Scotland, in 1617; secondly, in the civil wars of Charles the First's time; and thirdly, in 1728, when great part of the edifice was deliberately taken down, and the materials sold for one hundred pounds. Some of the walls still remaining are twelve feet thick, and the places are visible, in which the massy gates were held to them by hinges and bolts of uncommon size. A fuller proof of the many sacrifices of comfort and convenience, by which the highest classes in former ages were glad to purchase security, is very seldom afforded, than by the three detached parts still left of this edifice; but they shew nothing of the magnificence and gracefulness, which so often charm the eye in gothic ruins. Instead of these, they exhibit symptoms of the cruelties, by which their first lords revenged upon others the wretchedness of the continual suspicion felt by themselves. Dungeons, secret passages and heavy iron rings remain to hint of unhappy wretches, who were, perhaps, rescued only by death from these horrible engines of a tyrant's will. The bones probably of such victims are laid beneath the damp earth of these vaults.

A young woman from a neighbouring farm-house conducted us over broken banks, washed by the Emont, to what had been the grand entrance of the castle; a venerable gothic gateway, dark and of great depth, passing under a square tower, finely shadowed by old elms. Above, are a cross-loop and two tier of small pointed windows; no battlements appear at the top; but four rows of corbells, which probably once supported them, now prop some tufts of antient thorn, that have roots in their fractures.

As we passed under this long gateway, we looked into what is still called the Keep, a small vaulted room, receiving light only from loops in the outward wall; Near a large fire-place, yet entire, is a trap door leading to the dungeon below; and, in an opposite corner, a door-case to narrow stairs, that wind up the turret where, too, as well as in the vault, prisoners were probably secured. One almost saw the surly keeper descending through this door-case, and heard him rattle the keys of the chambers above, listening with indifference to the clank of chains and to the echo of that groan below, which seemed to rend the heart it burst from.

This gloomy gateway, which had once sounded with the trumpets and horses of James the First, when he visited the Earl of Cumberland, this gateway, now serving only to shelter cattle from the storm, opens, at length, to a grassy knoll, with bold masses of the ruin scattered round it and a few old ash trees, waving in the area. Through a fractured arch in the rampart some features in the scenery without appear to advantage; the Emont falling over a weir at some distance, with fulling-mills on the bank above; beyond, the pastured slopes and woodlands of Carleton park, and Cross-fell sweeping the back-ground.

Of the three ruinous parts, that now remain of the edifice, one large square mass, near the tower and gateway, appears to have contained the principal apartments; the walls are of great height, and, though roofless, nearly entire. We entered what seemed to have been the great hall, now choaked with rubbish and weeds. It was interesting to look upwards through the void, and trace by the many window-cases, that appeared at different heights in the walls, somewhat of the plan of apartments, whose floors and ceilings had long since vanished; majestic reliques, which shewed, that here, as well as at Hardwick, the chief rooms had been in the second story. Door-cases, that had opened to rooms without this building, with remains of passages within the walls, were frequently seen, and, here and there, in a corner at a vast height, fragments of a winding stair-case, appearing beyond the arch of a slender door-way.

We were tempted to enter a ruinous passage below, formed in the great thickness of the walls; but it was soon lost in darkness, and we were told that no person had ventured to explore the end of this, or of many similar passages among the ruins, now the dens of serpents and other venomous reptiles. It was probably a secret way to the great dungeon, which may still be seen, underneath the hall; for the roof remains, though what was called the Sweating Pillar, from the dew, that was owing to its damp situation and its seclusion from outward air, no longer supports it. Large iron rings, fastened to the carved heads of animals, are still shewn in the walls of this dungeon. Not a single loop-hole was left by the contriver of this hideous vault for the refreshment of prisoners; yet were they insulted by some display of gothic elegance, for the pillar already mentioned, supporting the centre of the roof, spread from thence into eight branches, which descended the walls, and terminated at the floor in the heads, holding the iron rings.

The second mass of the ruin, which, though at a considerable distance from the main building, was formerly connected with it, shews the walls of many small chambers, with reliques of the passages and stairs, that led to them. But, perhaps, the only picturesque feature of the castle is the third detachment; a small tower finely shattered, having near its top a flourishing ash, growing from the solid walls, and overlooking what was once the moat. We mounted a perilous stair-case, of which many steps were gone, and others trembled to the pressure; then gained a turret, of which two sides were also fallen, and, at length, ascended to the whole magnificence and sublimity of the prospect.

To the east, spread nearly all the rich vale of Eden, terminated by the Stainmore hills and other highlands of Yorkshire; to the north-east, the mountains of Cross-fell bounded the long landscape. The nearer grounds were Whinfield-park, broken, towards the Emont, into shrubby steeps, where the deep red of the soil mingled with the verdure of foliage; part of Sir Michael le Fleming's woods rounding a hill on the opposite bank, and, beyond, a wide extent of low land. To the south, swelled the upland boundaries of Bampton-vale, with Lowther-woods, shading the pastures and distantly crowned by the fells of Hawswater; more to the west, Bird's Nest, "bosomed high in tufted trees;" at its foot, Lowther-bridge, and, a little further, the neat hamlet and bridge of Emont. In the low lands, still nearer, the Lowther and Emont united, the latter flowing in shining circles among the woods and deep-green meadows of Carleton-park. Beyond, at a vast distance to the west and north, rose all the alps of all the lakes! an horizon scarcely to be equalled in England. Among these broken mountains, the shaggy ridge of Saddleback was proudly pre-eminent; but one forked top of its rival Skiddaw peeped over its declining side. Helvellyn, huge and misshapen, towered above the fells of Ullswater. The sun's rays, streaming from beneath a line of dark clouds, that overhung the west, gave a tint of silvery light to all these alps, and reminded us of the first exquisite appearance of the mountains, at Goodesberg, which, however, in grandeur and elegance of outline, united with picturesque richness, we have never seen equalled.

Of the walls around us every ledge, marking their many stories, was embossed with luxuriant vegetation. Tufts of the hawthorn seemed to grow from the solid stone, and slender saplings of ash waved over the deserted door-cases, where, at the transforming hour of twilight, the superstitious eye might mistake them for spectres of some early possessor of the castle, restless from guilt, or of some sufferer persevering from vengeance.