The People's Party

          The Cornish fishing-port-cum-holiday-destination of Mevagissey celebrated its traditional ‘Feast Week’ at the end of June and I went along to get a taste. Its origin may lie in thanksgiving for an abundant fishing season, but the decline of religiosity and the onset of holidaymakers has transformed a once parochial event into a popular, secular, summer celebration involving games, processions, competitions, performers, fireworks and an awful lot of premium-priced pasties, beer and fish-n’-chips. But when you’re on your own the party tends to drag so, before long, I left the throngs and went on a solo exploration of the wider locality. Cornwall is loved by holidaymakers for its numerous attractions but it’s easy to forget that, underlying these, is its history. I went looking for it nearby.

          Who could resist a visit to the intriguingly named Lost Gardens of Heligan? Well, it all depends. I was certainly tempted but, when I discovered that the entry fee was £25, my enthusiasm melted away quite swiftly. Not being a gardener, it wasn’t hard to persuade myself that I didn’t need to enter the gardens to know their story (OK: they were ‘lost’, as in abandoned, then restored by enthusiasts). So it was that I pulled out my membership cards for the National Trust and English Heritage, consulted the apps and looked elsewhere for an immersive history experience. I had, after all, paid annual subscriptions to these organisations for many years and it was time to take advantage of my ‘free entry’ entitlement.

          I went first to the impressive house and estate of Lanhydrock, taken over by the National Trust in 1953, after more than 400 years of ownership by aristocrats who intermarried to sustain their fortunes down the centuries. This was standard practice and, as I maintain, the one and only purpose of the creation of the institution of marriage. Having taken by force most of England’s green and pleasant, the self-styled aristocracy then held on to it – with the collusion of the Church (the parish church abuts this house) – by keeping the people in ignorance and poverty. Their scheme began to unravel when the growth of trade produced a newly enriched class that was able to challenge their socio-economic domination.

          Many a stately home was ‘accidentally’ burned down or left to go to ruin. Other toffs cleverly ‘gave’ their grand country houses to the National Trust, thereby transferring the cost of their upkeep to those of us who can’t afford to own them but do have the means to afford an entry ticket from time-to-time. With this in mind, I contemplated the privileged lifestyle embodied in the house and it rich contents with a stoney heart that softened only slightly on learning that the head of the family at the time of the Civil War had fought on the side of Parliament.

          Next, I drove a few miles (but much further back in time) to the remains of Restormel Castle. Its unusual design, a perfect circle (except for the rectangular chapel that juts out from it) is striking in itself, but the fact that the wall still stands at full height eight centuries after being built seems to indicate that it was not much fought over. Today’s visitors can perambulate the reasonably intact battlements and imagine being lords of all they survey. Or, instead, imagine being a sentry on duty in the depths of winter. Either way, we get to appreciate just how deep are the roots of the construct of aristocracy, power and control.

          Lanhydrock was not busy and there were only two other visitors at Restormel while I was there. Perhaps when the party’s over in Mevagissey, the revellers will turn up. Mind you, immersive historical experiences are not cheap and there won’t be much disposable cash left after all that spending on beer, pasties and fish-n’-chips.