Jane Roger: the story of the enigmatic Cumbrian character

The annals of our county’s history are chockful of remarkable characters. Some of the most intriguing led lonely lives. That certainly seems to have been Jane Roger’s lot.

A recluse and eccentric, she was a familiar figure around west Cumbria some 250 years ago. Since then, though, she has all but been forgotten. So, it seems high time to retell her story, or at least what little of it is known.

Jane was a poor woman, and she is not an easy person to track down. Like a lot of poor people from the past, she did not leave much of a paper trail behind her. I cannot claim to have made an exhaustive search, but I have pored over plenty of local records in vain looking for clues. So far, I have found out next to nothing about Jane’s early years.

Roger and Rogers are both common names in west Cumbria. That gives some grounds for supposing that Jane was locally born. By the same stroke, though, it also complicates matters. With more than one Jane Roger to choose from, it is tricky to know which one to pick.

The earliest known picture of Jenny Darney, from the Gentleman's Magazine, 1790 Was she the ‘Jaine’ Roger baptised in Ennerdale in 1699? That date is probably a bit too early. How about the Jane Rogers who was buried in Eskdale in 1796? That seems somewhat more likely, but it is hard to say for certain. We are told that Jane was ‘always silent’ about her family.

Lacking more concrete evidence, we are forced to rely on stories about Jane from old books and newspapers. That is not ideal, of course. We historians tend to be happiest when we are able to crosscheck second-hand accounts against original documents like a listing in a local church or court record. Still, the stories of Jane’s life I have come across are of considerable interest.

None of those stories is especially long. For the most part, they tell us Jane was famed for her frugality and unusual appearance. Having no money to buy new clothing, we are told, she was forced to rely on her skills as a scavenger and seamstress.

“Her present garb,” reads one account, “is entirely of her own manufacture. She collects small parcels of wool which lie about the fields in sheep-farms, spins it on a rock and spindle of her own making; and, as she cannot find any other method of making the yarn into cloth, she knits it on wooden needles, and by that means procures a warm, comfortable dress.”

That description suits the only known picture of Jane. That picture appeared in a nationally circulated periodical called the Gentleman’s Magazine in 1790, and it shows us a sturdy-looking little lady dressed like a working woman – complete with a black stuff hat, flannel petticoats, coarse stockings and apron. Kitted out with her purses, walking sticks and a pipe and sack, she’s every bit the “remarkable character” she is claimed to be in the picture’s caption.

Holmrook Hall Look closely at that caption, and you might just make out that this drawing refers to Jane as Jenny Darney. That is the name she was known by in later life. Allegedly, local people took to calling her Darney after the thrifty way she made and mended her clothes. I do not know if that really was the case, but the claim does stand to reason.

In any case, Jane eventually settled in Holmrook, near Drigg. We are told that she lived alone in a repurposed cow house on the Holmrook Hall estate between 1776 and 1782. But how she came to live there is not at all clear.

Back in those days the estate belonged to Charles Lutwidge (1722-1784), and he evidently allowed Jane to stay in that sty rent free. That raises the possibility that she may have had a connection with the Lutwidge household. Still, without additional evidence it is impossible to say for sure.

It is reasonably clear, though, that Jane was well regarded by her neighbours. We are told that she struggled with her mental health. One article reported that “her intellects seems at certain times greatly deranged”. Indicatively, we read that when “she had no burthen of value” to fill her sack, “she filled her bag with sand”. Still, she evidently lived in harmony with those around her, many of whom clearly took an interest in her welfare.

Jane seems to have accepted gifts of food, and she must have also been open to presents of tobacco. True to her portrait, she is said to have “travelled with a tobacco pipe constantly in her mouth”. But she adamantly refused any funds offered to her. Although poor, she was apparently loath to be regarded as a pauper.

The Square at Holmrook from Drigg and Carleton Parish book by Betty Bolton That is actually part of the reason she was considered so remarkable. Her solitary life and disinterest in money earned her a somewhat saintly reputation. Some people seem to have seen her as a sort of hermitess. At least, that is what we read in the Gentleman’s Magazine:

She seems to have chosen out the spot where she now lives, to pass the remainder of her days unknown to her friends, and in a great measure from a distaste of a wicked world, to “prepare herself,” as she often in her quiet hours says, “for a better.”

What became of Jane after her time at Holmrook? No one seems to know for certain. A short account of her life that appeared in Parson and White’s History, Directory, and Gazetteer, of Cumberland and Westmorland (1829) states that, “at length, disabled by age and infirmities, she died at the house of a relation in Whitehaven”.

There is no reason to doubt this account, and, interestingly, it implies that more of Jane’s story remains to be discovered. Contrary to what we read in some accounts, some people must have known who her family were.

One can only hope that she found comfort in her final years and, moreover, that more about her life might one day be discovered.