Tribute Of The Hills

( Originally Published 1902 )

ON THE DIAMOND JUBILEE OF QUEEN VICTORIA. JUNE 22, 1897

CUSH man ! she's liftin'," said the Cumbrian, with the rockets under his arm, as we came out of the sweet-scented avenue of larches on Latrigg side. As he spoke we saw the huge cloud-cap of Skiddaw, that had troubled the hearts of bonfire enthusiasts all the day, move slowly up the side of the " Little Man " and let the light from the level sun strike up and fill its bosom of filmy whiteness with gleams of emerald and gold. My heart was too full of the happy festival I had just left in Keswick, my eyes were too full of the glory of that evening light in the Crosthwaite Valley, my ears too full of the melody of birds to be thinking of bonfires. Such a day for Royal Jubilee had never been. Cool air had tempered delicious sunshine, and the children, who had marched and countermarched, with banners and garlands who had filled the streets with colour and the little market square with loyal song, could be heard far below us in the valley, still full of vigour at their games. Now and again the pulses of a drum and the sound of music floated up from the Fitz Park, by the side of the river Greta. Now and again the shouting of a crowd's approval was heard in mid-vale. All else, save the song of the chiff-chaff, and the flute of the mellow ouzel, was silent. But the song of birds ceased as we emerged at " the Gale " upon the mountain pasture and began to climb Skiddaw in earnest. Such silence, such quiet, after the busy day and its doings, had wondrous charm and restfulness.

Pausing at the first hut, we looked south toward Helvellyn dappled now with the cobalt shadowing of the clouds, and white-crested with the wreath of vapour which was visibly melting into thin air. Beyond Helvellyn, eastward, the great band of stationary cloud, locally known as "the Helm," was beginning to flush with rose, and as the clanging rooks above Blencathra cawed lustily their Jubilee applause, I noted how high towards the zenith the faint blue dome was flecked with mackerel clouds sure sign of fair weather. One by one the tops of the hills cleared, Scafell was cloudless, the sea of mountains to the west stood revealed, and so distinctly did they stand out against the sky that even the naked eye could discern the bonfire cairns or masses, upbuilt for the evening's sacrifice of love. Helvellyn's cloud wreath vanished like a dream, but still Skiddaw was veiled. It was disheartening, for Skiddaw had been selected as the signal height for all the bonfires round. A shout from a rocketman far ahead came ringing down the open moor : " Skidda's clear ! " Gladly we pressed on, and, sure enough, black against the silvery sky of evening, the great stack stood up that had to be torch to all our Jubilee bonfires hereabout.

A halt was called in shelter of the " Little Man," rockets were adjusted to their sticks and divided between the two bonfire parties. For the hill that was unveiling its double front from mid Atlantic clouds was to wear the double crown of flame to-night. The programme was rehearsed. At 9.55 a signal rocket was to be despatched ; at la a second. These were to be answered from the neighbouring heights, then the bonfires were to be fired, and the National Anthem was to be sung. At 10.30, in honour of Scotland, all the fires were to burn red light, a token of love from the Rose of England to the land of the Thistle. Three rockets were to ascend in symbol of the United Kingdom. The sister heights were to answer. At I I green light was to be burned, for ever-green friendship and memory of the day, and also as a compliment to the Emerald Isle. The National Anthem was again to be sung, and the rest of the rockets were to ascend.

The sight as we gained the top of Skiddaw " Great Man " was beyond description. The mountains had all put on their solemnest apparel-the purple puce of twilight ; the vast littoral plain lay like a deep Prussian-blue carpet, veined with silver where Derwent flowed, and silver frosted where light wisps of vapour hovered or rested by far watercourses. While over the Solway lay a low, flocculent mass of cloud that looked for all the world like a huge sea of ice, with berg and floe. Criffel's dark top stood out above this vaporous veil, but for the rest the land beyond the Border was hidden from our sight.

At our feet, steely grey, lay Derwentwater, the islands appearing jet black upon its burnished surface nearer, like a polished floor of ebony, in shadow of its woods, Bassenthwaite was seen. Cold blew the wind, and folk who had come to see the sight busied themselves with building shelters on the leeward side of the mountain, or sat huddled under the cairn hard by.

And the land darkened, but not for sleep. On far-off hills just such eager groups as were round us were gathering to their jubilee fire stacks, or waiting with just the same impatience for the appointed hour. It was clear that either the village clock had gone wrong or patience was outworn at some of the bonfire stations in the plain, for we saw a rocket flash up here and there five minutes before time, and when Skiddaw sent its first signal up, to explode with a loud report in the quiet heaven, there were already five fires alight in the plain. But it was a sight to remember to see how, within ten minutes of our first rocket, that vast blue carpet of the Cumbrian plain was jewelled with light, and some say 59, some say 70 fires were blazing in honour of our beloved Queen. The night was ideal in atmospheric conditions for the display. We could from our distance clearly see the blue flame that was burned on Scafell, and the coloured stars on Helvellyn as the rockets soared and burst. Not the least beautiful effect of the bonfires in the distance to the north and west was that they gleamed here and there through the rifts of the fleecy sea of low-lying cloud, and now seemed to pale, now to flash into fulness, now to be on earth, now to be in mid-heaven.

Meanwhile our bonfires, which had been lit at the top, burned torch-like downwards with a grand head of flame, and we were proving that there is nothing like peat and paraffin for a mountain Jubilee bonfire, if only the cross flues and the central chimney are properly constructed for draught, whilst we were silencing false prophets of disaster, who assured us " that unless you light from the bottom bonfires will not burn."

Those who had climbed up Skiddaw were not only able to have their hearts enlarged by joining in fancy so many goodly companies of men in far-off places about their loyal beacons ; they were enabled to have a bird's-eye view of all the loyal rejoicings of the little town of Keswick at their feet. The streets sparkled with light, flotillas of fairy fire were seen to put off from the shore and spangle the dark bosom of Derwentwater. Rockets danced up and broke in golden rain above the island trees, and overhead anon red lights gleamed and died away, while fireflies flashed across the water-flood and wove intricate patterns of sparkle and beauty upon the dim grey silver of the happy lake.

But one by one the stars in the plain and on the mountain tops faded. Still the Skiddaw fires bravely burned the torches of their love and loyalty seemed inextinguishable ; but our eyes were far away. The beacon fire of the new dawn was kindling in secret beneath the lilac bank of north-east cloud. The purple bastion was sudden fringed with fire. The first faint streamers of the morn shot trembling towards the zenith. The Pole star paled. The Plough and Cassopeia vanished from mid-heaven, and over the grey-blue plain and that wondrous pack of Arctic sea the fairy floes of softest filmy cloud the sun built up the master beams of his palace chamber, and came forth as a bridegroom to woo and win his bride.