The Squire of Sandal-Side | Page 2

nowhere better than among these "dalesmen" can the English
elemental resistance to fusion be seen. Only at the extreme point of
necessity have they exchanged ideas with any other section, yet they
have left their mark all over English history. In Cumberland and
Westmoreland, the most pathetic romances of the Red Rose were

enacted. In the strength of these hills, the very spirit of the Reformation
was cradled. From among them came the Wyckliffite queen of Henry
the Eighth, and the noble confessor and apostle Bernard Gilpin. No
lover of Protestantism can afford to forget the man who refused the
bishopric of Carlisle, and a provostship at Oxford, that he might
traverse the hills and dales, and read to the simple "statesmen" and
shepherds the unknown Gospels in the vernacular. They gathered round
him in joyful wonder, and listened kneeling to the Scriptures. Only the
death of Mary prevented his martyrdom; and to-day his memory is as
green as are the ivies and sycamores around his old home.
The Protestant spirit which Gilpin raised among these English
Northmen was exceptionally intense; and here George Fox found ready
the strong mystical element necessary for his doctrines. For these men
had long worshipped "in temples not made with hands." In the solemn
"high places" they had learned to interpret the voices of winds and
waters; and among the stupendous crags, more like clouds at sunset
than fragments of solid land, they had seen and heard wonderful things.
All over this country, from Kendal to old Ulverston, Fox was known
and loved; and from Swarthmoor Hall, a manor-house not very far from
Seat-Sandal, he took his wife.
After this the Stuarts came marching through the dales, but the
followers of Wyckliffe and Fox had little sympathy with the Stuarts. In
the rebellion of 1715, their own lord, the Earl of Derwentwater, was
beheaded for aiding the unfortunate family; and the hills and waters
around are sad with the memories of his lady's heroic efforts and
sufferings. So, when Prince Charles came again, in 1745, they were
moved neither by his beauty nor his romantic daring: they would take
no part at all in his brilliant blunder.
It was for his stanch loyalty on this occasion, that the Christopher
Sandal of that day was put among the men whom King George
determined to honor. A baronetcy was offered him, which he declined;
for he had a feeling that he would deeply offend old Lögberg Sandal,
and perhaps all the rest of his ancestral wraiths, if he merged their
ancient name in that of Baron of Torver. The sentiment was one the

German King of England could understand and respect; and Sandal
received, in place of a costly title, the lucrative office of High Sheriff of
Cumberland, and a good share besides of the forfeited lands of the rebel
houses of Huddleston and Millom.
Then he took his place among the great county families of England. He
passed over his own hills, and went up to London, and did homage for
the king's grace to him. And that strange journey awakened in the
mountain lord some old spirit of adventure and curiosity. He came
home by the ocean, and perceived that he had only half lived before. He
sent his sons to Oxford; he made them travel; he was delighted when
the youngest two took to the sea as naturally as the eider-ducks fledged
in a sea-sand nest.
Good fortune did not spoil the old, cautious family. It went "cannily"
forward, and knew how "to take occasion by the hand," and how to
choose its friends. Towards the close of the eighteenth century, an
opportune loan again set the doors of the House of Lords open to the
Sandals; but the head of the family was even less inclined to enter it
than his grandfather had been.
"Nay, then," was his answer, "t' Sandals are too old a family to hide
their heads in a coronet. Happen, I am a bit opinion-tied, but it's over
late to loosen knots made centuries ago; and I don't want to loosen
them, neither."
So it will be perceived, that, though the Sandals moved, they moved
slowly. A little change went a great way with them. The men were all
conservative in politics, the women intensely so in all domestic
traditions. They made their own sweet waters and unguents and
pomades, long after the nearest chemist supplied a far better and
cheaper article. Their spinning-wheels hummed by the kitchen-fire, and
their shuttles glided deftly in the weaving-room, many a year after
Manchester cottons were cheap and plentiful. But they were pleasant,
kindly women, who did wonderful needlework, and made all kinds of
dainty dishes and cordials and sirups. They were famous florists and
gardeners, and the very neatest of housewives. They