The Kendal “Boke of Recorde” contains several references to the pastimes of Westmerians from two to three centuries ago. On one occasion it was ordered by the Corporation “That whosoever do play at the football in the street and break any windows, shall forfeit upon view thereof by the Mayor or one of the Aldermen in the ward where the fault is committed the sum of 12d. for every time every party, and 3s. 4d. for every window by the same broken, and to be committed till it be paid, the constable looke to it to present it presently at every Court day.” That knur and spell, the game so popular still in Yorkshire, was once a favourite pastime in Kendal is attested by the following entry, dated April, 1657: “It is ordered by the Court that all such persons, inhabitants within this borough, above the age of twelve years, that hereafter shall play in the streets at a game commonly called Kattstick and Bullvett shall forfeit and incur the penalty of 12d. for every offence, to be levied of their goods, and where they have no goods to be imprisoned two hours.”
The somewhat questionable glories of Workington Easter football play have passed away, partly in consequence of the occupation of a portion of the playing ground by railways and works, and not less because of a change of feeling. How long these Easter Tuesday matches between “Uppies” and “Downeys” have gone on no man can tell. Half a century ago it was reported in the Pacquet that the game in 1849 “was played with all the vigour of former days, from times beyond ‘the memory of the oldest inhabitant.’” The goals are about a mile apart, one being a capstan at the harbour, and the other the park wall of Workingham Hall. There are no rules except those suggested by cunning and skill, while brute force is of the greatest importance. If the ball is “haled” over the park wall a sovereign is given by the owner of the estate to the winners, and of course it is spent in liquor. The players sometimes number hundreds, and thousands of people attend as spectators.
In several places in the two counties “mock mayors” were annually elected, and the occasion at Wreay was marked by somewhat uncommon festivities. The Rev. A. R. Hall, Vicar of the parish, in a lecture delivered some time ago, gave an account of these Shrovetide observances, which made the village famous in its way. Up to 1790 the chief feature was a great cock-fight, managed by the boys at school. A hunt of harriers subsequently took the place of the cock-fight, this being followed by a public dinner, and the election of the mayor. Sometimes this functionary belonged to Wreay, and sometimes came from Carlisle; in the latter case, those who wished to keep up the due dignity of the office chartered a coach-and-four for the accommodation of their friends. Racing and jumping were features in the sports, the prizes for which were hats. The old silver bell used to ornament the mayor’s wand of office. In 1872, unfortunately, the bell was stolen, and Wreay lost this relic, which had been connected for 217 years with its Shrovetide festivities. In 1880 the hunt and the election of mayor both came to an end.
Befitting its importance in the calendar, Christmas seems to have always held the first place in popularity among the holidays and festivals of the year. In the summer season Whitsuntide—which marks the end of one term of farm service—was the most popular. At Christmas “the treat circulated from house to house, and every table was decorated in succession with a profusion of dishes, including all the pies and puddings then in use. Ale possets also constituted a favourite part of the festive suppers, and were given to strangers for breakfast before the introduction of tea. They were served in bowls, called doublers, into which the company dipped their spoons promiscuously; for the simplicity of the times had not yet seen the necessity of accommodating each guest with a basin or soup plate. The posset cup shone as an article of finery in the better sort of houses; it consisted of pewter, and was furnished with two, three, or more lateral pipes, through which the liquid part of the compound might be sucked by those who did not choose the bread. This plentiful repast was moistened with a copious supply of malt liquor, which the guests drank out of horns and the wooden cans already mentioned. The aged sat down to cards and conversation for the better part of the night, while the young men amused the company with exhibitions of maskers, amongst whom the clown was the conspicuous character; or parties of rapier-dancers displayed their dexterity in the sportive use of the small-sword. In the meantime the youth of both sexes romped and gambolled promiscuously, or sat down not unfrequently to hunt the rolling-pin.”
The Gowrie Plot is brought to mind by a record in the Greystoke books that is unusually quaint in its style: “1603, August, ffrydaye the vth day was comnded for to be keapt holy daye yearely from cessation of laybour wth gyvinge of thanks for the kyngs most excelent matye for his matyes p’servation and deliverance from the Crewell Conspiracie practized against his maties pson in Scotland that vth daye of August, 1600.” Three years sufficed for this celebration; then Gunpowder Plot came in for notice, as is seen from an item dated November 5th, 1606: “The sayde daye was Kenges holy day, and one sermon by Mr pson the xi Isaie 2 verse.” The chronicler followed this registration of his text by a list of the names of the chief people in the parish who attended the service.
The shearing days used to be high festivals on the fells and in the dales of both counties. Now the gatherings have been deprived of some of their most characteristic features; and even the chairing is almost forgotten. Richardson’s chapter on “Auld Fashint Clippins and Sec Like,” in “Stwories at Ganny uset to Tell,” relates how the chairing used to be done. The song, once an indispensable item in the programme, may now and again be heard, lustily shouted by the dalesmen. After declaring that “the shepherd’s health—it shall go round,” the chorus continues:
“Heigh O! Heigh O! Heigh O!
And he that doth this health deny,
Before his face I him defy.
He’s fit for no good company,
So let this health go round.”
The coronation of a monarch was invariably made the occasion for merry-making by the consumption of much ale by the common folk, especially by bell-ringers and others who could have the score discharged by the churchwardens. There is such an entry in the Crosthwaite books relating to the coronation of George the First. In 1821, November 5th, there was “spent in ale at Nicholas Graves 5s.” This worthy who was parish clerk at Crosthwaite for fifty-six years, was also the owner of a public-house in the town, and among his other qualifications was that of being will-maker for many of the inhabitants. At Penrith, Kendal, Carlisle, and many other places the church bells were set ringing, bonfires lighted, and ale barrels tapped—usually at the expense of the churchwardens—on very small provocation.
Among other festivals now no longer observed, and probably forgotten, was that known as Brough Holly Night. In a little pamphlet published between thirty and forty years ago the following note on the subject was printed, but the writer has been unable to ascertain when the custom was last seen in the old Westmorland town: “On Twelfth Night, at Brough, the very ancient custom of carrying the holly-tree through the town is observed. There are two or three inns in the town which provide for the ceremony alternately, though the townspeople lend a hand to prepare the tree, to every branch of which a torch composed of greased rushes is affixed. About eight o’clock in the evening the tree is taken to a convenient part of the town, where the torches are lighted, the town band accompanying and playing till all is completed, when it is carried up and down the town, preceded by the band and the crowd who have now formed in procession. Many of the inhabitants carry lighted branches and flambeaus, and rockets, squibs, etc., are discharged on the occasion. After the tree has been thus paraded, and the torches are nearly burnt out, it is taken to the middle of the town, where, amidst the cheers and shouts of the multitude, it is thrown among them. Then begins a scene of noise and confusion, for the crowd, watching the opportunity, rush in and cling to the branches, the contention being to bear it to the rival inns, ‘sides’ having been formed for that purpose; the reward being an ample allowance of ale, etc., to the successful competitors. The landlord derives his benefit from the numbers the victory attracts, and a fiddler being all ready, a merry night, as it is called here, is got up, the lads and lasses dancing away till morning.”
There were once many wells and springs in the two counties which were held in more than common regard by the inhabitants, and corresponded to the Holy Wells of other districts. Between sixty and seventy years ago this was written of a custom once common at Skirsgill, about a mile from Penrith: “Upon the sloping lawn is a remarkably fine spring; its water is pure and sparkling, and was formerly held in such veneration that the peasantry resorted to it, and held an annual fair round its margin. In descending a flight of stone steps, you perceive inside a drinking cup, and over the door-top, neatly cut in stone, the form of a water jug.” Cumberland is said to have had nearly thirty Holy Wells, and of one of these Mr. Hope tells us[18] that “The Holy Well near Dalston, Cumberland, was the scene of religious rites on stipulated occasions, usually Sundays. The villagers assembled and sought out the good spirit of the well, who was ‘supposed to teach its votaries the virtues of temperance, health, cleanliness, simplicity, and love.’”