THE TOWN AND BEACON OF PENRITH.

Having pursued the road one mile further, for the purpose of visiting the tender memorial of pious affection, so often described under the name of Countess' Pillar, we returned to Emont-bridge, and from thence reached Penrith, pronounced Peyrith, the most southern town of Cumberland. So far off as the head of Ullswater, fourteen miles, this is talked of as an important place, and looked to as the store-house of whatever is wanted more than the fields and lakes supply. Those, who have lived chiefly in large towns, have to learn from the wants and dependencies of a people thinly scattered, like the inhabitants of all mountainous regions, the great value of any places of mutual resort, however little distinguished in the general view of a country. Penrith is so often mentioned in the neighbourhood, that the first appearance of it somewhat disappointed us, because we had not considered how many serious reasons those, who talked of it, might have for their estimation, which should yet not at all relate to the qualities, that render places interesting to a traveller.

The town, consisting chiefly of old houses, straggles along two sides of the high north road, and is built upon the side of a mountain, that towers to great height above it, in steep and heathy knolls, unshaded by a single tree. Eminent, on the summit of this mountain, stands the old, solitary beacon, visible from almost every part of Penrith, which, notwithstanding its many symptoms of antiquity, is not deficient of neatness. The houses are chiefly white, with door and window cases of the red stone found in the neighbourhood. Some of the smaller have over their doors dates of the latter end of the sixteenth century. There are several inns, of which that called Old Buchanan's was recommended to us, first, by the recollection, that Mr. Gray had mentioned it, and afterwards by the comfort and civility we found there.

Some traces of the Scottish dialect and pronunciation appear as far south as Lancashire; in Westmoreland, they become stronger; and, at Penrith, are extremely distinct and general, serving for one among many peaceful indications of an approach, once notified chiefly by preparations for hostility, or defence. Penrith is the most southern town in England at which the guinea notes of the Scotch bank are in circulation. The beacon, a sort of square tower, with a peaked roof and openings at the sides, is a more perfect instance of the direful necessities of past ages, than would be expected to remain in this. The circumstances are well known, which made such watchfulness especially proper, at Penrith; and the other traces of warlike habits and precautions, whether appearing in records, or buildings, are too numerous to be noticed in a sketch, which rather pretends to describe what the author has seen, than to enumerate what has been discovered by the researches of others. Dr. Burn's History contains many curious particulars; and there are otherwise abundant and satisfactory memorials, as to the state of the debateable ground, the regulations for securing passes or fords, and even to the public maintenance of slough dogs, which were to pursue aggressors with hot trod, as the inhabitants were to follow them by horn and voice. These are all testimonies, that among the many evils, inflicted upon countries by war, that, which is not commonly thought of, is not the least; the public encouragement of a disposition to violence, under the names of gallantry, or valour, which will not cease exactly when it is publicly prohibited; and the education of numerous bodies to habits of supplying their wants, not by constant and useful labour, but by sudden and destructive exertions of force. The mistake, by which courage is released from all moral estimation of the purposes, for which it is exerted, and is considered to be necessarily and universally a good in itself, rather than a means of good, or of evil, according to its application, is among the severest misfortunes of mankind. Tacitus has an admirable reproof of it—

"Ubi manu agitur, modestia et probitas nomina superioris sunt."

Though the situation of Penrith, looking up the vales of Eden and Emont, is remarkably pleasant, that of the beacon above is infinitely finer, commanding an horizon of at least an hundred miles diameter, filled with an endless variety of beauty, greatness and sublimity. The view extends over Cumberland, parts of Westmoreland, Lancashire, Yorkshire, and a corner of Northumberland and Durham. On a clear day, the Scottish high lands, beyond Solway Firth, may be distinguished, like faint clouds on the horizon, and the steeples of Carlisle are plainly visible. All the intervening country, speckled with towns and villages, is spread beneath the eye, and, nearly eighty miles to the eastward, part of the Cheviot-hills are traced, a dark line, binding the distance and marking the separation between earth and sky. On the plains towards Carlisle, the nearer ridges of Cross-fell are seen to commence, and thence stretch their barren steeps thirty miles towards the east, where they disappear among the Stainmore-hills and the huge moorlands of Yorkshire, that close up the long landscape of the vale of Eden. Among these, the broken lines of Ingleborough start above all the broader ones of the moors, and that mountain still proclaims itself sovereign of the Yorkshire heights.

Southward, rise the wonders of Westmoreland, Shapfells, ridge over ridge, the nearer pikes of Hawswater, and then the mountains of Ullswater, Helvellyn pre-eminent amongst them, distinguished by the grandeur and boldness of their outline, as well as the variety of their shapes; some hugely swelling, some aspiring in clusters of alpine points, and some broken into shaggy ridges. The sky, westward from hence and far to the north, displays a vision of Alps, Saddleback spreading towards Keswick its long shattered ridge, and one top of Skiddaw peering beyond it; but the others of this district are inferior in grandeur to the fells of Ullswater, more broken into points, and with less of contrast in their forms. Behind Saddleback, the skirts of Skiddaw spread themselves, and thence low hills shelve into the plains of Cumberland, that extend to Whitehaven; the only level line in the scope of this vast horizon. The scenery nearer to the eye exhibited cultivation in its richest state, varied with pastoral and sylvan beauty; landscapes embellished by the elegancies of art, and rendered venerable by the ruins of time. In the vale of Eden, Carleton-hall, flourishing under the hand of careful attention, and Bird's Nest, luxuriant in its spiry woods, opposed their cheerful beauties to the neglected walls of Brougham Castle, once the terror, and, even in ruins, the pride of the scene, now half-shrouded in its melancholy grove. These objects were lighted up by partial gleams of sunshine, which, as they fled along the valley, gave magical effect to all they touched.

The other vales in the home prospect were those of Bampton and Emont; the first open and gentle, shaded by the gradual woods of Lowther-park; the last closer and more romantic, withdrawing in many a lingering bend towards Ullswater, where it is closed by the pyramidal Dunmallard, but not before a gleam of the lake is suffered to appear beyond the dark base of the hill. At the nearer end of the vale, and immediately under the eye, the venerable ruins of Penrith Castle crest a round green hill. These are of pale red stone, and stand in detached masses; but have little that is picturesque in their appearance, time having spared neither tower, or gateway, and not a single tree giving shade, or force, to the shattered walls. The ground about the castle is broken into grassy knolls, and only cattle wander over the desolated tract. Time has also obscured the name of the founder; but it is known, that the main building was repaired, and some addition made to it by Richard the Third, when Duke of Gloucester, who lived here, for five years, in his office of sheriff of Cumberland, promoting the York interest by artful hospitalities, and endeavouring to strike terror into the Lancastrians. Among the ruins is a subterraneous passage, leading to a house in Penrith, above three hundred yards distant, called Dockwray Castle. The town lies between the fortress and the Beacon-hill, spreading prettily along the skirts of the mountain, with its many roofs of blue slate, among which the church rises near a dark grove.

Penrith, from the latter end of the last century, till lately, when it was purchased the Duke of Devonshire, belonged to the family of Portland, to whom it was given by William the Third; probably instead of the manors in Wales, which it was one of William's few faulty designs so have given to his favourite companion, had not Parliament remonstrated, and informed him, that the Crown could not alienate the territories of the Principality. The church, a building of red stone, unusually well disposed in the interior, is a vicarage of small endowment; but the value of money in this part of the kingdom is so high, that the merit of independence, a merit and a happiness which should always belong to clergymen, is attainable by the possessors of very moderate incomes. What is called the Giant's Grave in the church yard is a narrow spot, inclosed, to the length of fourteen or fifteen feet, by rows of low stones, at the sides, and, at the ends, by two pillars, now slender, but apparently worn by the weather from a greater thickness. The height of these is eleven or twelve feet; and all the stones, whether in the borders, at the sides, or in these pillars, bear traces of rude carving, which shew, at least, that the monument must have been thought very important by those that raised it, since the singularity of its size was not held a sufficient distinction. We pored intently over these traces, though certainly without the hope of discovering any thing not known to the eminent antiquarians, who have confessed their ignorance concerning the origin of them.