The various well festivals in the Penrith district have all passed away, as has a once popular gathering of another kind, known as Giant’s Cave Sunday. The assemblies were at “the hoary caves of Eamont,” about three miles from Penrith, and the late Rev. B. Porteus, then Vicar of Edenhall, wrote of them nearly forty years ago: “The picnics are of frequent occurrence at this picturesque and romantic spot; and have been occasionally patronised by special culinary demonstrations by the hospitable proprietor of the estate. Giant’s Cave Sunday is still observed, but the custom has dwindled into insignificance, the ‘shaking bottles’ carried by the children at that season being the only remains of what it has been. But it affords a pleasant walk to the people of Penrith, as it has probably done since the time when the caves were the residence of a holy man.”
Among the festivities now to be numbered among bygone things must be mentioned the Levens Radish Feast, which had much more than a local fame. In the time of Colonel Grahme there was great rivalry between the houses of Dallam Tower and Levens. The former once invited every person who attended Milnthorpe Fair to partake of the good cheer provided in the park, a piece of hospitality which irritated the Colonel very much. As a consequence, the following year when the Mayor and Corporation of Kendal went to proclaim the fair, he took them to Levens, and provided such a royal entertainment that the civic fathers gladly accepted the invitation for succeeding years. The fair sex were rigidly excluded. Long tables were placed on the bowling green, and spread with oat bread, butter, radishes, and “morocco,” a kind of strong beer, for which the Hall was famed. After the feast came the “colting” of new visitors, and various amusements that are better to read about than witness.
LEVENS HALL.—Front View.
On the Road.
Few parts of England could have been so inaccessible as were Cumberland and Westmorland prior to the middle of the last century. Roads were scarce, unless the dignity of the name be given to the rough tracks which served for the passage of pack-horses, and even these did not reach a great number, having regard to the area which they served. There was little to call the people away from home, to London and other great centres of industry. The journey from the north to the Metropolis was such a great undertaking that men who had any possessions to leave behind them almost invariably made their wills before starting out. The richer sort, of course, rode their horses, and an interesting account of the journey was left by Henry Curwen, of Workington Hall, as to his trip to London in 1726. The most accessible route was very roundabout—by Penrith, Stainmore, Barnard Castle, York, and so through the eastern counties. This journey on horseback occupied thirteen days, including four which were utilised for visiting friends on the way. The roads he described as being very bad, and a ride of thirty-two miles he declared to be equal to fifty measured miles.
People with fewer guineas to spare had of necessity to walk. “Manufacturers made their wills, and settled their worldly affairs, before taking a long journey, and many of them travelled on foot to London and other places, to sell their goods, which were conveyed on the backs of pack-horses.”[19] Even more recently pedestrian excursions from Mid Cumberland to London have been undertaken; there was the well-known case of Mally Messenger, who died in August, 1856, at the age of ninety-three years. Several times before she attained middle age Mally walked to London and back to Keswick, a distance of 286 miles in each direction. On one occasion she was passed by a Keswick man on horseback, who by way of a parting message remarked, “Good-day, Mally; I’ll tell them in Keswick you’re coming.” The pedestrian, however, was the better traveller, for she often used to boast afterwards that she reached Keswick first.
When old-time Bamptonians wanted to see the Metropolis they could not go to Shap or Penrith and thence be carried by excursions for considerably under a sovereign. This is how the vicar went on foot in 1697, as recorded in the parish registers: “Feb. the 7 did Mr. Knott set forward for London, got to Barking to Mr. Blamyres, Friday, March the fourth, to London March the seaventh, remained there 8 weekes and 2 dayes, came out May the 5, 1698, gott to Bampton Grainge, May the 20, at night.”