WALKING ROUND CONISTON WITH JOHN RUSKIN
Introduction
We have all been made familiar at some time with the picture of Wordsworth striding over the
Lakeland hills, often alone, and mumbling or booming verses in the making as he went. John
Ruskin is not so closely linked in the popular mind with walking, yet during his years at
Brantwood he got to know Coniston and its neighbourhood pretty thoroughly. The steadily
growing number of people who recognize him as the foremost sage and prophet of the 19 th
century can follow in his physical footsteps to a surprisingly large extent. In this booklet we
pick out the places in and around Coniston which he visited, incidentally highlighting the
wide range of local residents with whom he was on calling terms. Then follows a survey of
the longer walks which he so much enjoyed. These, together with the less demanding ways
about the village, would furnish a full programme for a holiday in Coniston.
Ray Haslam and I have made no attempt to set out detailed routes for these walks; that would
spoil the disciple’s pleasure. We must point out, however, that none of the houses referred to
in the text are open to the public; none now contain any tangible Ruskin relic. But we may
look at them all as we walk by, reflecting perhaps that in Ruskin’s day the roads were a much
safer place for pedestrians. For the more strenuous mountain walks, proper clothing and maps
are essential. Ruskin was able to choose his day for an expedition into Tilberthwaite, or up to
Goat’s Water; in the compass of a short holiday, we have to take the weather as it comes.
We have included brief notes to give more information about some of the persons mentioned
in the text. Much of this detail will already be familiar to the serious Ruskin scholar, but we
have aimed to enlighten the interested general reader as well as to make a small original
contribution to Ruskin studies. In neither objective do we claim to have been comprehensive,
but at least we may have set markers for all who wish to learn more of Ruskin, and are willing
to go along with him over the paths and byways of the area he loved so well.
East of the Lake
“…utterly quiet clouds and blue hills – dark clear – and new moon stooping to them through
translucent grey twilight. Walked up and down on road under house, listening to Coniston
band across the lake, thinking of my poor father, and what he would have given for such an
hour.” That was in May 1876, and we can sense that, internationally celebrated figure as he
was, Ruskin had nevertheless remained a real person, sharing the thoughts and feelings of
more ordinary folk. He loved to walk along that road under Brantwood. Often he would go
in the southerly direction, past Fir Island, or as far as Peel Island. On the day before his
birthday, 1893, he walked to Peel Island "in calm sunshine" and had "a happy quiet hour on
the rocks opposite it." Three years earlier, having rowed to Fir Island, he climbed the fell
above the lake there, finding “the view from crags at top quite noble.” He must have been
particularly fond of this stretch of country, for it gave him some of his most blissful days like September 14th. 1883 - the most lovely and on the whole, happiest day I’ve ever passed
here, - all day out, in morning on moor by myself – meditating on oatfield and glacier marks –
in afternoon, the children’s picnic opposite Peel Island!!! No words for the beauty and
sweetness of it.”
When he walked along the road from Brantwood in the northerly direction, Ruskin soon came
to his nearest neighbour’s house – Coniston Bank, now (1994) the Thurston Outdoor Pursuits
Centre. Until 1884 Major Benson Harrison lived here; then, till 1891, George Goodison and
his wife. He maintained good relations with the Harrisons, but probably saw more of the
Goodisons. George was a fellow-manager of the village school, and they regularly worked
together sharing the monthly managers’ rota as official school visitors. The next house was
Bank Ground, also down near the lake shore. James and Laura Thornely spent a good deal of
time here. Laura was skilled in embroidery, and gave Ruskin some samples of her work,
freehand studies of birds and flowers. Maybe it was an expression of thanks that clumps of
chives from the Brantwood garden found their way to Bank Ground, where they were
carefully nurtured.
Occasionally Ruskin called at the cottage, Low Bank Ground - in 1876 to visit Miss
Thackeray (the famous novelist’s daughter, on holiday there), and Ethel and Laurence Hilliard
in 1883. Ethel stayed there only for a year or so before moving to Tent Cottage (now known
again as Townson Ground), nearer to the head of the lake, where she remained with her
brother Fred until 1908. Lanehead, the next house along the road, is now associated with the
Collingwood family, but it was not until 1891 that they moved there from Gillhead,
Windermere. Ruskin knew the house as the home of the widowed Mrs. Melly and her
daughter Louise; it was not a regular stopping place, though on February 5th., 1878, he called
on them – “more pleased with both than I have been yet.” Possibly he felt more at home at a
very different house, How Head, a little farther down the road, only a few days later, when he
was walking home from the Thwaite. “As I passed Jacksons, thought I would call on him.
Called and made him and his wife happier.”
From How Head Ruskin would often continue along the higher road which leads on to High
Cross and so to Hawkshead. On the right, after only a few yards, standing back in the fields,
is Knipe Ground, which was a regular port of call. At that time it housed a little Dame School,
kept by Miss Yewdale. He took a real interest in the children’s work; they in turn looked
forward to his appearance, and if opportunity offered would pull him up the hill to the school
in Miss Yewdale’s sled-cart. In 1886 he wrote in a letter to the Duchess of Albany, with
reference to the school, “…I was rather shocked at first by seeing what I thought was a game
at cards going on upon the floor, but was told that was the way they learned the
alphabet…The knitting and sewing in this little school is already exemplary, their arithmetic
far beyond ME.”
Once at High Cross, on the main Coniston to Hawkshead road, he might go on to Tarn Hows
(as we now know Low Tarn), or to see the doctor in Hawkshead, or work his way back over
the moor (no forest then!) to Brantwood. The options on these windswept uplands were
almost infinite - sometimes a long walk over to Grizedale, or maybe a shorter circuit, (as with
Kate Greenaway in 1883) “up to the moor and round by the farm road to see primrose and
anemone opposite Low Bank Ground.” But we will go back down the winding road past
Hollin Bank to Monk Coniston, the grand mansion of the Marshall family. As neighbouring
gentry, he had to maintain relations, but it was often a trial: “June 13th. 1876. No getting
things done in this house. Lost all yesterday calling on Marshalls in the morning.” “July 1st.
1883. Tea at Monk Coniston. Unsatisfactory.”
Coniston Village
Much more rewarding were the frequent calls at the Thwaite, the big house amid the trees
looking down to the lake as one walks from Monk Coniston into the village. This was the
home of the Beevers. Ruskin often called to enjoy a chat and a cup of tea, especially with
Susie, in whose beautifully kept enclosed garden they would sit when the weather was warm,
on the stone seats which her gardener had constructed specially. Sometimes he would pop in
for an hour before setting out on a longer walk, or on his way home from a day on the fells for
a short rest before rowing back to Brantwood. When the lake froze in 1879 he arrived in a
manner that recalls Mr. Pickwick: “Yesterday over the lake sliding to call on Susie; back
down the middle of it to promontory of hall; and so straight across back. Very stiff when I
got home.” Susie’s dear friend Harriet Rigbye lived at Thwaite Cottage just below the big
house, well set back from the public road. Harriet shared Susie’s love of plants and birds, and
from time to time was of the company in that sequestered garden, now, after a century of
change, barely to be recognized.
Across the road from Thwaite Cottage is what Ruskin would know as the new Waterhead
Hotel. When he visited Coniston in the course of his 1867 tour of the Lake District, he was
not impressed, partly because he remembered the old Waterhead Inn at the head of the
lake. “It exists no more.” he wrote, “Its place is grown over with smooth park grass… and a
¼ of a mile down the lake, a vast hotel built on the railroad station style… with coffee room,
smoking room and every other pestilent and devilish Yankeeism that money can buy, or
speculation plan.” But he changed his mind after coming to live at Brantwood, and we find
him writing in 1876 to a prospective visitor: Brantwood is small and I never count on being
able to receive my friends in it, but I have made arrangements for a bed at the Waterhead Inn
for you while here, which I consider as much my home as Brantwood.” He got on well with
Joseph and Elizabeth Sly who kept the hotel, and continued to call from time to time after Mr.
Sly’s death in 1880. For one thing, this was a convenient spot to leave a boat when intending
to walk into the village, or farther afield.
Continuing towards Coniston, we soon come to the old smithy, on the right immediately by
the bridge over Yewdale beck. Here Ruskin would call when he needed work doing, or even
just to pass the time of day with Thomas Bowness the blacksmith, as on 27th. May, 1876,
when he was “out most of the day,” and “Saw Mr. Bowness make a chopper.” ( In fact
Ruskin’s billhook, now in the Ruskin Museum at Coniston, is stamped with Bowness’ name.)
Having turned right beyond the bridge, the road accompanies the stream shortly to join the
main Coniston to Ambleside road. Here the course of the stream bends abruptly to the right,
into Yewdale. At the bend, and under the retaining wall which protects the road is a
considerable pool, known locally as Curdle Dub. Ruskin often leaned over this wall to
ponder many things, particularly when he was preparing his lecture “Yewdale and its
Streamlets” in 1877. Specifically, he speculated why, in the swiftly running section of the
river, stones should be deposited, yet this pool was not filled with stones. More generally,
one suspects that, at a time when motor traffic was non-existent, he just leaned over the wall
enjoying the surroundings of field, wood and crag. Sometimes he would pause here on his
way to the sawmill, another 50 yards up the road, once operated by the Cowards - Edward and
his son Richard. They did work for him when he needed anything in the woodworking line –
such as little toys to be given to young children, to his own design of course!
From the sawmill it is only a few yards to the row of cottages known as Far End above the
field that looks down to Curdle Dub. A right turn between the cottages and the barn brings us
to a gate in the fell wall. Ruskin would walk up here, then turn left by the track behind the
wall which leads to the road running from Coniston to the Coppermines valley. On reaching
this road over the stile, another left turn, and a short distance down the hill are the cottages
which stand immediately below the entrance drive to Holywath. The cottage farthest from
“the gates” was the home of Kate Raven, who, as Kate Smith had been one of the three
servants whom Ruskin “wouldn’t change for anyone else’s servant in the world.” On the day
after his sliding visit to Susie Beever, he persuaded Joan Severn to accompany him on a
second venture, and this time the objective was “to call on Kate.” Like the Thwaite, Kate’s
cottage was a convenient spot to break a walk or to make a destination; but also, Kate, like
Susie, was a valued friend.
Walking next from the bridge in the centre of the village along the Ulverston road for about a
mile, we see the Roman Catholic church on the right, just as we reach Adam Bridge. Father
Gibson was another friend of Ruskin’s. When the church was built Ruskin gave the money to
pay for windows in the sanctuary. Not far away at this “Low End” of the village, now known
as Haws Bank, was William Bell, who owned the joiner’s shop at the bottom of the old road
down to Haws Bank bridge, and lived in the adjoining cottage on its south side. Bell had
helped in the construction of Jumping Jenny, and was a very strong Liberal in his politics.
Both Collingwood and Canon Rawnsley have left accounts of Ruskin’s first visit to Bell, on
Christmas Eve 1879. William’s son, John, hovered anxiously outside the parlour lest there
should be an explosion. “The sound of talk inside,” wrote Collingwood, “rose from a murmur
to a roar. At last his father’s voice came through the partition in no trembling accents – Ye’re
wrang to rags, Mr. Ruskin! – Then he knew it was alright and went about his business.”
Indeed it was alright – we later find Ruskin making use of Bell’s boat landing, and having
indigestion after eating Mrs. Bell’s Yorkshire cakes.
The boathouse is at the end of the field north from Coniston Hall. Ruskin loved the changing
prospect in sunshine or rain over the fields here, not much changed today as compared with a
century ago. Not that he called regularly at the Hall. The tenant in the 1870’s was a Mrs.
Routledge, to whom Ruskin had lent £300: Collingwood describes how even he was a trifle
nonplussed when after a while she proposed to repay the debt in geese….. There are geese
still at the Hall, but whether he ever got his money back is not recorded.
Farther Afield
A walk round Coniston, or from the Thwaite to Boon Crag (on the Hawkshead road, a little
beyond the head of the lake) and over the “cross-road” into Yewdale, then back by Coward’s
sawmill, was not really much more than a gentle stroll for Ruskin. He frequently undertook
far more strenuous excursions, especially starting from Yewdale. Typical were the August
days in 1877 when he was preparing the Yewdale lecture – first “finding out waterfall and
climbing to top, and bringing down basalt pillar half way”; then “bringing down basalt
altogether” with the help of Alexander Wedderburn. The next day he was there again,
botanising - “studying anagallis (bog pimpernel) and sundew.” Two years later he described
a walk to “hill farm between Yewdale and the narrow glen we have yet no name for…..and
fell asleep in the sunshine on the hayfield then down and across brook to the heathy rocks
under Raven Crag.”
Following his footsteps of March 3rd. 1883 would be less uncertain. After calling at the
Thwaite, Ruskin “crossed the quarry-field to Waterhead walked over to Tilberthwaite then by
rocky streamlet bed up Yewdale Crag, and returned over its tops in dazzling sun fixing a view
of Coniston Water from beyond White Ghyll, as the best we have, and one of the loveliest
scenes in the world.”
He liked to go on into the rocky wilds of Tilberthwaite, as on August 7th 1877, when he had
“a marvellous walk through Yewdale and up the glen to the first fall out of Tilberthwaite
among the stones of the divine stream”. Winter weather was no deterrent to these outings.
Consider January 21st 1878: “Yesterday walked from Church up Tilberthwaite – and up
ravine to the plain of bog under Wetherlam longing so much to get to work upon things – cut
all that bog out for peat, and have a lake instead. Then to Thwaite and long talk with Susie.
Then rowed home in bitter wind and dark”. This account of a day is particularly interesting as
it shows how Ruskin’s mind was always at work. He seldom, if ever, walked simply for
walking’s sake, but had some object or project, however visionary, in view.
Wetherlam itself he climbed, and also the peak between that mountain and Old Man which he
christened Eaglet. He had a great walk in September 1877, “going up by the clear stream
from the mines – with marvellous discoveries of its pools, and then up behind the great tarn to
the ridge of the central peak and along it – with such views of Scawfell and all the land as I
never had before. Walking from 11 to 6, and little tired.” Perhaps there are not many of us
who could make the last comment at the age of 58! Two years later is recorded another
“beautiful day” which enabled him to “walk quietly up to the Eaglet … then round to the Old
Man and down the grassy side of him home – out from 11 to 7.”
Old Man, of course, as for all Conistonians whether by birth or adoption, was THE mountain.
Ruskin’s first recorded ascent was on a perfect summer day in June 1876, with a light
northerly wind, revealing “Lancaster bay all clear – Ingleborough and the great Pennine fault
as on a map. Divine beauty of thyme and rose.” This viewpoint on a wintry day at the end of
January 1878 provided a complete contrast – he had climbed in snow, with cloudless
sunshine, only to find “Whitehaven and Lancashire lost in smoke.” In early September 1877
he had been on the tops two days running – “beside the steep waterfall up to the tarn and
down by the slate quarries, examining the transition to slate.” The next day, up the Vecchio
(his private name for Old Man) after lunch, having first called at the Thwaite, then “ up by the
steep waterfall and tarn, then round by the North side and up back along the ridge. On top at
6 – down at the lake shore at ¼ past 7, losing ten minutes by taking the wrong horse path and
having to recover across stones.” He was back at Brantwood two minutes under the hour and
a half from the top.
In the late 1870’s there would be considerable industrial activity in progress as Ruskin walked
past the copper and slate workings, but the high tops must have been wilder and more quiet.
There were still wild goats up there, for example. So in undertaking these climbs, often alone,
he was pitting himself against a more formidable challenge than today’s fellwalker, who is
seldom out of sight of other people. The most desolate of these southern fells did not daunt
him, either. Later in that energetic September of 1877 he was “up sounding Goatwater seeing
sheep on Dhu Crag – in quite terrific places – and a twilight as I came down in the quiet air
wholly supreme.” Two years later he tested the endurance of his friend the watercolourist
Albert Goodwin . His description of the walk is a masterpiece of laconic understatement:
“Yesterday nice walk with Goodwin up to Goat’s Water.” The terrifying ridge above the tarn
had to wait until March 1880, when he was “up Dow Crags at last with Mattie and Lollie – a
perfect day of sunshine, but ponderous shade all round – Whitehaven – Lancashire and
Yorkshire all under one brown curtain – Too horrible to be at present thought of. As I came
down, stayed behind on the level moor, Mattie and Lollie going on to get tea ready at Kate’s.”
Let’s hope that Kate had a really big teapot.
Often there were excursions which took him no farther than the foothills, but it is not easy to
pinpoint exactly where he went – for example, in May 1879, “Walked up to highest knoll of
mid crags ( I must give it a name).” Somewhere on the Scrow, perhaps, but wherever it was,
the walk had a pleasant termination – “had tea with Kate.” Then in June of the same year
they had a tea-picnic “under the highest tarn waterfall – naming the mine rocks on our way
up, Lion, Tiger and Eagle’s peak. I think I shall call the one between it and Weatherlam the
Bracelet.” No matter where he was, or what the time of year, Ruskin could find delights, so
that on a day of thick fog in January 1880, walking “up by the mines on the steep cleft
cascade” he was able to note that it was “ lovely with ice on its heather, sugary and delicate
beyond expression.” On a sunny January day two years previously he had enjoyed a walk in
the snow – “hard and dry and rippled like the lake in its long wreaths beneath the grey rock
ridges and their green mantlings of moss – and sunshine warm as summer – and air
motionless like a mirror.” Where was he? It is almost impossible to tell, but, cannily, he was
not beyond reach of Nirvana – “Found the exquisite farm under hill opposite me – nothing
ever like it I think – then pleasant chat with Susie and row home.”
There emerges, then, a picture of Ruskin as a pretty stout-hearted pedestrian, despite the
illness that plagued him in middle-age. A person could plan an exciting and strenuous
walking holiday round these brief notes, with the added attraction many times of trying to
work out exactly where the master’s steps had trod. But more emerges than this. We can see
how Ruskin became an accepted member of the local community, even in his own person
bridging the gap between the gentry (mainly on the East side of the lake) and the village folk.
He could call, quite naturally, on both Mrs. Melly at Lanehead and Mrs. Sly at the Waterhead
Hotel. He could enjoy a crack and a piece of Yorkshire cake with William Bell more, one
suspects, than a polite visit to Monk Coniston. What had been wrong on June 30th 1883 –
was it the food that was unsatisfactory? or the company? or the conversation? Or, maybe, he
hadn’t wanted to go at all, but Mrs. Severn insisted.
His dearest friend from all those mentioned here was undoubtedly Susie Beever. She shared
his outlook on life, and was so devoted to his teaching that she put together an anthology from
Modern Painters, which he allowed to be published under the title Frondes Agrestes. Her
paradise, the enclosed garden below the Thwaite - neat box hedges, ferns, flowers for every
season, a nut walk, cherry trees “too sadly lovely, like a divine dream of youth and peace” –
formed another bond of common interest between herself and Ruskin.
By the late 1870’s he had been much battered by life, had passed through such experience as
would make any man sad, both in his private life and in his endeavour to show his fellow
countrymen that there might be a better way of life than one based on competition, greed and
materialism. It is pleasant to reflect that here at Coniston, in its people and its physical
surroundings, he was able to find whatever of happiness, solace and peace remained to him.
Epigraph
“What struck you most about the Professor?” I said.
“Well, well, that he hedn’t a bit o’ pride aboot him. Wad crack on same as if he was owder
you or me – he a girt Professor and me nobbut a fell shepherd. Kindest hearted man as ivver
was to onything that hed aa bit o’ life in it was th’ Professor noo. It was not only sheep and
dogs he was partial to, he was gaily weel with flowers and ferns an’ aw. I 'member he was
yance up here latin’ mosses and what not, and he shewed me a bit of them colourments upon
the steans, nay I can’t mind on what he called them, but he was as pleased as a bairn wid yan
o’ them on a boulder stean, and talked for ivver of it … Professor seed a deal mair than moast
fwoks, and you nivver met him widout a laal bit o’ moss or a stean or a flower i’ his hand.”
From Canon H.D. Rawnsley’s lecture, “Ruskin and the English Lakes”, delivered to the
Ruskin Union on 10th February 1902. Rawnsley was recounting a conversation with a
Coniston shepherd.
Notes
Major Benson Harrison was already living at Coniston when Ruskin moved to Brantwood.
He left in 1884.
George Goodison leased Coniston Bank from Major Harrison at the
beginning of 1884. He was an engineer by profession, and Mrs. Goodison was very involved
in the then fashionable study of Egyptology. George interested himself in the efficient
management of the estate – in the first quarter of 1884, for example, Levi Pickles, a local
carter, delivered 21 cartloads (nearly 19 tons) of lime to him. Then, in April, he came to do
three days ploughing. [Access to Levi Pickles’ Day Book, by courtesy of Miss A. Grisedale]
James and Laura Thornely came from Liverpool. Laura was a granddaughter of William
Roscoe. The family used Bank Ground as a holiday house for many years. The eldest
daughter, Mary, married A.M. Synge, and their family also spent as much time as possible at
Bank Ground during Ruskin’s Brantwood years. [Personal communication from Mrs. Anthea
Brian.]
Ethel and Laurence Hilliard were sister and brother. Laurence was Ruskin’s secretary
from 1876 until 1882, when he died of pleurisy whilst on a boating holiday in the Aegean. He
was a gifted artist, and examples of his work may be seen at Brantwood and in the Ruskin
Museum, Coniston.
The Collingwood family is the most generally gifted family group ever to have lived in
Coniston. William Gershom Collingwood had the longest and most direct connection with
Ruskin. He had sat at his feet at Oxford, then became his sympathetic biographer. “W.G.”
was also widely known as artist, author, historian and archaeologist.
Mrs. Melly, widow of Andre Melly of Liverpool, had come to Lanehead with her daughter
Louisa in the mid-1870’s. She remained there until 1891.
Lachiel Jackson was employed at Brantwood, and was noted for his ability to nurture crops
of magnificent rhubarb.
Victor Marshall was the son of James Garth Marshall, a prosperous Yorkshire
manufacturer who had acquired Monk Coniston as a country retreat. He and his wife
maintained the house with some style in Ruskin’s day, and his name was usually to be found
at the head of any list of contributors to local good causes.
The Beevers. William Beever had been a successful business man, and had come to The
Thwaite in 1827. His son, John, was an authority on fly fishing, but by the time Ruskin
arrived in Coniston, only three of his (unmarried) daughters survived. Margaret died in 1874,
Mary in 1883 and Susannah (Susie) in 1893.
Joan Severn, the wife of Arthur Severn, nationally known as an artist, was Ruskin’s cousin.
The Severns and their family came to live at Brantwood initially as a sort of second home as
early as the mid-1870’s; then, over the years, as Ruskin slipped more and more into ill-health,
Joan became effectively his guardian and manager of the Brantwood estate.
Jumping Jenny was the name Ruskin gave to the rowing boat designed in 1879 to his own
principles, with the help of Laurence Hilliard. William Bell of Haws Bank masterminded her
construction, and she was launched from his boathouse, with a wreath of daffodils hung round
her bows, by Martha Gale. Literary-minded readers will no doubt have recognised that
“Jumping Jenny” was named after Anthony Ewart’s brig in Red Gauntlet, a novel that was
one of Ruskin’s especial favourites. “Jump” may now be seen by visitors to Brantwood.
Alexander Wedderburn had, like W.G. Collingwood, sat at Ruskin’s feet during his years as
an Oxford undergraduate. He later visited Brantwood from time to time, helping Ruskin with
his literary work. Ultimately, he worked with E.T. Cook in compiling the monumental
library edition of Ruskin’s complete “Works”.
Mattie was Martha Gale, a niece of the Severns, who was a not infrequent visitor to
Brantwood; (see, for example, the note on Jumping Jenny).
Lollie was Laurence Hilliard; (see note above).
J. Dawson
Coniston
April 1994