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HAMPSHIRE:

ITS PAST AND PRESENT CONDITION

FUTURE PROSPECTS;

ROBERT MUDIE, ESQ.

AUTHOR OP "THE BRITISH NATURALIST," "FEATHERED TRIBES OP THE BRITISH ISLANDS,'
"MAN," "THE FOUR SEASONS," "THE FOUR ELEMENTS," "ASTRONOMY," ETC. ETC.

WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS ON STEEL AND WOOD.

VOL. II.

THE NORTHERN, EASTERN, AND SOUTHERN SLOPES,
AND THE NEW FOREST.

WINCHESTER:
PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETOR, JAMES ROBBINS, COLLEGE STREET
BY D. E. GILMOUR, HIGH STREET.
LONDON: ORR AND CO., PATERNOSTER ROW.

Winchester: D. E. Gilmour, Public Library High-street.

ANALYSIS OF THE CONTENTS.

CHAP. I.
The Northern Slope. — General Characters. — Surface. — Streams. — ¦
Parishes and Seats. — Kirigsclere. — Silchester. pp. 1- — 18
CHAP. II.
North-eastern Slope.- — General Characters and Soil. — Streams. —
Atmospheric Action. — Fog on the Hills. — Town of Basingstoke. — Old
Basing. — Basing House andnts History. — Strathfieldsaye. — Parishes. —
Odiham. pp. 19 — 62
CHAP. III.
Eastern Slope. — Position and Characters. — Strata. — Streams. — Parishes
and Places.^ — Alton. — Petersfield. — Selhorne. — Gilbert White. — Other
Places in the District. pp. 63 — 94
CHAP. IV.
Southern Slope. — Extent, Boundaries, and Peculiarities. — Strata. — The
Chalk and Tertiary Formations of the Hampshire Basin. — Tides. — Drift
of Shingle. — Marine Deposits. — Action of Sea and Land. pp. 95 — 124
CHAP. V.
Physical Characters of Southern Slope. — Exposure to Different
Winds. — Portsdown. — Forest of Bere.— Valley of Meon. — Valley of
the Hamhle. — Bays and Estuaries, and their Products. — Fishes.
pp. 125—150
CHAP. VI.
Historical and Topographical Details. — TheBelgse. — The Romans. —
vol. n. b

iy CONTENTS.
Porchester. — Roman Road. — Enormities in the Forest of Bere. — Parishes
and Places. — Bramdean. — Remains of a Roman Villa. — Bishop's Waltham
and its Ruined Palace. — District of the Titchfield River. — South of the
Forest of Bere. — North of the same. — Borders of Sussex. — Havant. —
Hayling Island pp. 151 — 186
CHAP. VII.
Portsea Island. — Extent and Boundaries. — View from Portsdown. —
Declivity of Portsdown. — Parishes and Places. — Particulars of Porchester
Castle. — Westward of Portsmouth Harbour. — Fareham and its advan
tageous Situation. — Alverstoke. — Gosport. — Portsea and Portsmouth. —
Parochial and other Divisions. — Fortifications. — Harbour Line. — Ports
mouth. — Government Establishment. pp. 187 — 216
CHAP. VIII.
The New Forest. — General Characters. — Early History. — Examination
of the Charges against the Conqueror and Rufus. — Extent and Bounda
ries. — ¦ Characters of the Boundaries. — Those of the Solent. — Story of the
Fowler. — Surface, Soil, and Rivers. — Valley of the Avon, and its Divisions.
— Character of the Avon — Towns on the Avon. — Fordingbridge. — Ring-
wood. — Christchurch. — Priory of Christchurch. — Flambard. — Singular
Inscriptions on Bells. — Lymington Divigfrm. — Borough of Lymington. —
Brockenhurst. — Dibden Liberty. — Beaulieu and its Abbey. — Northern
Purlieu. — Manors and Holdings intheForest. — Lyndhurst. — Distribution
and Appearance of the Forest. — Bailiwicks and Walks. — Views and Vistas
in the Forest. — Characteristic Beauty of some of these. — Residences in the
Forest. — Death of Rufus. — Remarks respecting it. — Forest Animals. —
Horses. — Their Characters. — Forest Hogs. — Their peculiarities. — The
Pannage Month. — Different Sections of Forest Hogs. — Officers of the
Forest. pp. 207—232

LIST OF THE PLATES.
VOL. II.

Vignette Title— Death of Rums
~ KlNGSCLERE DELL  KlNGSCLERE
Worting Church — Little London
sllchester church — sllchester
Basingstoke .......
 Church — Old Basing
Odiham Church ......
Strathfields aye— Seat of His Grace the Duke of Wellington
Heckfield Park— Seat of the Right Hon. C S. Lefevre, M.P.
Hartford Bridge .....
Hackwood Park — Seat of the Right Hon. Lord Bolton
Alton, from Windmill Hill ....
Alton Church — Lyndhurst Church
Map — Environs of Petersfield ....
Petersfield .......
Bishop's Waltham .....
Botley ........
Place House, Titchfield ....
Titchfield .......

101213
37
41 50
51 535455
74 75
7677
170
174
180 180

LIST OF PLATES.

Havant .....
Emsworth ....
- Map — Environs of Portsmouth
Portchester Castle
West Street, Fareham
Gosport ....
Royal Naval Hospital, Portsmouth
Portsmouth Harbour, from Gosport
View from Parade, Portsmouth
High Street, Portsmouth
Portsmouth Dock- yard
 -, from Block House Point
Twelve Apostles, New Forest .
Fordingbridge Church
Ringwood
Map— Environs of Christchurch
ChristchurchAbbey Church, Christchurch
Milford Church— Milton Church
Beaulieu Water
Hurst Castle ....
Lymington, from Mount Pleasant
Bath House, Lymington — Ibsley Church
Boldre Church — Brockenhurst Church
Calshot Castle
Beaulieu Church— Fawley Church
Lyndhurst, from the road to Sarum
Old King's House, Lyndhurst
Stony Cross, New Forest

184184
187192
196
199
200209 211
212
214215217264
265266267
269280
281283284 285
290293
293
303304
320

HAMPSHIRE.

CHAP. I.

THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
The northern slope seems to be the most appropriate name
which can be given to that natural division of Hampshire
which lies to the north of the great chalk ridge. This is a
district of small extent, but it is well defined by natural
boundaries, especially on the south and the north. The
southern boundary begins near Woodhay oak-copse, where
a projecting angle of Berkshire extends to the summit of
the downs; and it may be traced thence eastward and a little
to the south, in a series of curves, all having their princi
pal convexity southward, to Winklebury hill near Basing
stoke, which is about seventeen or eighteen miles along the
summit-level, and about fifteen on the straight line. The
eastern boundary, which is not so well defined by nature,
may be taken from Winklebury to Silchester, which is
about six miles and a half on the straight line, and not
above seven on the country road from Rooksdown, near
VOL. II. b

2 THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
Winklebury, to the boundary of the county at the village of
Amphitheatre, near Silchester, which village is however in
Berks. This Berkshire village must not be confounded
with the remains of the Roman amphitheatre at Silchester,
which is within Hampshire, though very near the boundary.
The northern boundary is, first about six miles westward
from Silchester, principally across Silchester and Tadley
commons to the river Emborne, and then westward along
the bank of that river about nine miles, or to within a mile
or two of its source. The western boundary is irregular
and of very trifling length ; for, notwithstanding its bend-
ings, the whole measure of it, from the Emborne to the
summit of the hills, is not above three miles.
This part of Hampshire differs considerably from the
portion south of the chalk ridge in all its physical characters,
— in the nature of the soil, the form of the surface, the
quantity of running water, the nature of the vegetation, and
the climate as affected both by the situation and the surface
of the district.
Though in Hants, this tract of country naturally belongs
to the vale of Berkshire, which is a continuation of the
great valley of the Thames ; this valley, estimating it by
its geological formation, extends from Marlborough in Wilt
shire, to within a few miles of Margate on the south bank of
the river and its estuary. The surface-stratum of the whole
of this extensive portion of England belongs to the tertiary
formation of the geologists, which consists of clay of dif
ferent colours and consistencies, variously mixed with more
or less of sand or gravel, and with the heights not unfre-
quently capped with the latter substance. There is an ex
ception, however, in those beds of hungry sand with little
or no clay in them, which are situated between Kingston
and Basingstoke ; but, though these approach the extreme
north-east of Hampshire, none of them are far within the
county, at least in such quantity as to merit particular no
tice. Flatness, general fertility with rather a rank vegeta
tion, and a foggy atmosphere, drizzling, rather than raining

THE NORTHERN SLOPE. 6
in torrents in the fall of the year, and dry and often cold in
the early season, are the prevailing characters of the climate
on this tertiary formation ; and of course the northern slope
of Hampshire partakes of them, though to a much smaller
extent than counties farther down the Thames. This ter
tiary formation lies over the chalk, though often, with a
bed of loose sand between them; and, as the bounding
chalk hills have always a bolder escarpment toward the
tertiary valleys than towards the smaller vales and undula
tions of the chalk itself, a quantity of the rain, which falls
in torrents upon the hills, perculates in between the chalk
and the tertiary formation, and, as these are both, to a great
extent, water-proof, swells the loose sand a little, and fills
it with water of the finest quality, from the nature and
length of the filter through which it passes. The fact is,
that this water undergoes exactly the same kind of purifi
cation as that of the rivers in chalk countries ; and thus
the people near London may be said to have the Itchen
under the Thames, sometimes at the depth of two hundred
feet or more.
The northern slope of Hants, is only one side of a se
condary branch of the great valley, and it is the portion of
it which is the most distant from the sea ; consequently it
has all the characters in a slighter degree, but still it has
traces of them. The cold drying winds, which are but too
often so injurious to the early crops on the eastern parts of
the formation, do not come here in the full effects of their
destruction ; they are arrested by the windings of the valley,
and by woods and other surface-obstructions, but still they
are a little felt.
On the other hand, this part of Hampshire is in a great
measure cut off from the action of the Channel atmosphere
by the dry chalk hills and downs immediately to the south ;
these act as a furnace, in turning the air which comes to
them upward, when the weather is hot and dry ; and as a
pair of bellows, in blowing it down upon the valleys, when
the weather is cold.
b 2

4 THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
Wherever the tertiary formation crops out upon the chalk,
there is a certain intermixture of the particles of the two, as
well as of the more substantial parts of the chalk formation.
The flints, which are often of considerable size and gene
rally sponge-shaped, in the solid beds of chalk, are always
more or less rounded, and not unfrequently into perfect
spheres, when they occur in the clay or clayey gravel of the
tertiary formation. So also, for a greater or less distance
inward from the border of the chalk, a considerable portion
of disintegrated chalk is mixed with the clay ; thus forming
a calcareous clay-loam, which is one of the best soils for
the more substantial kinds both of agriculture and of
planting. These general properties of the soil will enable the reader
to conclude, without any long enumeration of details, that
this is one of the richest farming districts, as well as
the best-wooded one, in the whole county, — indeed it en
joys advantages over the same soil farther down the valley,
in consequence of its inland situation. But, though a soil
of this kind is very rich for the stronger kinds of vegetation,
it is not so well adapted for the very delicate as that which
is found on the other side of the chalk ridges where they
are bordered, generally speaking, by the green sand. The
admixture there is of a different nature, being less reten
tive of humidity, and such soils are best adapted for the
culture of the hop. A district of this character cannot be a
land of springs, any more than the chalk or the loose sand ;
but it is everywhere a land of streams during the winter
months ; and, in situations such as that which we are en
deavouring to describe, the streams are perennial, because
though, as we have said, a portion of the water that falls on
the heights insinuates itself under the clay, there is another
portion which escapes through the most porous parts of the
soil just upon the margin of the chalk. Accordingly we
find that this part of Hampshire abounds in brooks, as
compared with any other part of the county, and especially
as compared with the chalky districts. The chalk itself turns

THE NORTHERN SLOPE. 0
round the western termination of the tertiary bed — to the
westward of Hampshire indeed, but not very far to the west
ward ; and thus the northern slope of Hampshire supplies
all the feeders of the Emborne. These are, it is true, mere
brooks, for all of them flow from the bottom of the chalk hills
directly to the river, only with a slight inclination eastward,
which is, of course, the general slope of the whole valley ;
though the slope of this particular part is more to the north
than to the east. These feeders of the Emborne are small
nameless brooks, the course of the largest of them not
being more than four or five miles ; but they occur through
out the whole district at distances of sometimes one mile,
and rarely, if ever, more than two miles, from each other.
There is an elevation in Berkshire, to the north of the
Emborne, consisting, to a considerable extent, of heaths ;
and just where the river ceases to form the boundary of
Berkshire it escapes more northward, through a pass in
this height, and joins the Kennet, in the meadows of that
river, after a course of a few miles farther. This height —
which is however not of great elevation — rises again in the
commons to the west of Silchester ; and, from near Sil
chester, a summit-level extends south-west through Pamber
forest to the chalk hills, about four miles north-west of
Winklebury, and between the parish churches of Monk's
Sherborne on the east, and Ewhurst to the west. The
turning of this summit-level makes a sub-division of the
district into the part whose waters flow to the Loddon, and
that whence they flow to the Emborne ; and, as is usual at
summit-levels on this formation, the country is diversified
by swells and hollows, — for one can hardly call them hills
and dales. The largest feeder of the Emborne rises near
Ewhurst, and is there connected into a considerable extent
of ornamental water. This one has a good many little
branches ; and, different from the others, the course of it is
in a north-westerly direction. Of the branches of the
Loddon which flow eastward, we shall take some notice when
we come to treat of the valley of that river, or rather of the

b THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
country across which it flows, for it is not a regular
valley. Such are the natural features of this part of Hants ; and
the present aspect of the country, in its cultivated fields, its
woods, and its other particulars, is in accordance. Formerly
it must have, as was the case with most of the tertiary
formations, been a forest, abounding with deer and other
wild animals ; and this is, in all likelihood, the reason why,
in early times, both the bishops of Winchester and the
kings of England had residences in it. It afforded better
game, and more hardy sport in the finding of it, than the
dry soils farther to the south ; and this was, in all proba
bility, the reason why the mighty men of old resorted to it.
Most likely, also, it was a barrier to armies, and indeed, to
passengers generally, previous to and during the time of
the Romans ; for, with the exception of some barrows
on Brimpton common, about four miles west from Sil
chester — and these, though just on the border, are not
absolutely in it — there are few remains of antiquity to be
found in it, with the exception of Silchester, some lines
and square intrenchments near the heights, and the Ro
man road along the summiUevel from the hills near Ew
hurst to Silchester. This was part of the line of com
munication between Silchester and Old Sarum : it is al
most wholly obliterated in the district of which we are
speaking. Other evidences of this having been a close and marshy
forest in the olden times, are afforded by the small number
of churches in comparison of those in the southern valleys;
and the fact that those which are met with, and also the
principal villages, are near the heights, and not near the
river, as is chiefly the case on the Itchen and on the Test.
Up to a comparatively late period, also, there were many
commons near the Emborne, and there are a few still.
Of natural woods there are not now many, the ground being
too rich and valuable for being allowed to lie idle ; but
there are very many planted trees in rows, clumps, and

THE NORTHERN SLOPE. 7
extensive woodlands. The trees here are of much larger
growth, and make more stem before they branch, than those
in the south part of the county, though the tertiary forma
tion occurs there again, forming the principal stratum along
the shore from near Brighton to near Dorchester; and
curving round in the middle part, on the Test, to within not
more than twelve miles from Andover. The tertiary forma
tion in the south is more gravelly than that in the north ;
and this is one reason why timber attains a larger growth,
especially in altitude, in the latter. Something however
must be allowed for difference of atmosphere, — inasmuch as
the whole tertiary region of the south, must be more or
less affected by the sea air, from which the northern slope
is free. But though the trees in this north part of the
county are larger and more rapid in their growth than those
in the southern part, they are not so durable in their tim
ber, neither are they so well fitted for ship-building. A
certain degree of softness, or sponginess, characterises the
general vegetation of the tertiary clay-6oils ; and the fruits
and vegetables, though more abundant in quantity, are, gene
rally speaking, not so racy in flavour. This is not entirely
owing to the increased growth, though there is always some
sacrifice of quality made in obtaining that. The damp,
both in the soil and the atmosphere, — which is, however,
one cause of the fertility — is the main agent of deteriora
tion. That the timber of this part of Hampshire is not so
well adapted for ship-building as that of the south of the
county, is not much to be regretted, inasmuch as it could
not be brought to any market, where it could be available
for that purpose, except at considerable expense. It an
swers well for local purposes however, and for these, as also
for the ornamenting of the county, the rapid growth is an
advantage. There is one other general circumstance connected with
the climate of this part of Hampshire which is worthy of
notice, and that is the motions of the local atmosphere, inde
pendently of winds — those stealthy motions of the air from

8 THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
place to place, along the surface in one direction, and in the
upper air the other way, which displays no current to ordi
nary observation. The low, or valley part of the district,
from the retentive nature of its soil, and the rich vegetation
with which great part of it is clothed, has a minimum varia
tion of temperature, both daily and seasonal, for its geo
graphical situation. The chalk hills, and their southern
slopes, which extend along the whole district, have, on the
other hand, a maximum variation of temperature in both
respects. The consequence is, that the change to cold
upon the hills sends down a dry air to the valley, and the
change to heat upon them brings up a moist air from the
same. In this way, the two kinds of soil are mutually
beneficial; as the valley is rendered less humid than it
otherwise would be, and the hills are not so much parched.
These remarks apply to all parts of Hampshire, and of
every other locality, where low grounds of the same descrip
tion as this district, lie at the bottom of chalk hills ; but as
this is the most remarkable instance which comes within the
scope of the present work, we have thought best to make
our general remarks here. Having done so, we shall give
a brief enumeration of the named places which are in the
district ; and which are neither very numerous nor indi
vidually very important. They are, however, just what
they ought to be, quiet and rural, and ornaments, not ex
crescences, in a rich agricultural district.
Some of the mansions, with their demesnes and orna
mental waters, form exceptions to this, but still, though they
are beautiful, and have an air of magnificence both in their
extent and their style, there is nothing sublime or even
picturesque about them.
Of the mansions, the most conspicuous is Highclere, a
seat of the Caernarvon family ; the park of which, together
with Pen wood to the north of it, form a belt across the
country, from the highest part of the chalk ridge at Sidown,
almost to the bank of the Emborne. This park is one of
the most extensive in England ; the circuit of the whole of it

THE NORTHERN SLOPE. 9
being more than twelve miles ; but its form is irregular,
and consequently its area does not amount nearly to that of
a square of the same perimeter. The grounds are much
more diversified than those of most mansions in the county,
as they include Sidown hill, and also a large portion of
ornamental water. We have already mentioned that Sidown
hill is about 942 feet above the level of the sea. Highclere
house is 587, which gives the hill an elevation of 355 feet
above the mansion, and the distance is not more than a
mile in horizontal extent. Thus, though the altitude would
be insignificant in a mountainous country, it is considerable
in such a county as Hampshire ; and as the heights of the
chalk ridges though naturally bare are not barren, this
hill has been considerably improved ; and while it possesses
no little beauty in itself, it contrasts well with the lower
and richer part of the demesne.
The grounds here were early acquired by the bishops of
Winchester, and belonged to the church of that city in the
time of Edward the Confessor. Indeed, it was in the times
of the Saxon kings that the church acquired so much pro
perty, especially in this part of England; where, for the
maintenance of some establishment or other, it was by
far the largest and the most wealthy proprietor. William of
Wykeham had a house and park here ; frequently resided
in the house, and appears to have been much attached to
the place ; as he left a legacy to the minister of Highclere,
and gave discretionary powers to his executors of rewarding
the park-keeper. The bailiwick continued in possession
of the bishops of Winchester even after the appropriation
by Henry VIII ; but it was surrendered, together with the
manors and free-warrens of Highclere and Burghclere, and
the rights of advowson and patronage of the churches, to
Edward VI, in 1552. This surrender was, in all proba
bility, made at the suggestion of William Fitzwilliam, a
gentleman of the bed-chamber to Edward; for the whole
was bestowed on him, a very short time after it was given
up by Poynet, the then bishop of the diocese. In Mary's
VOL. II. C

10 THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
reign, the greater part of the lands which had been sur
rendered by the church, or violently taken from it, were
again restored ; but the restoration was reversed by Eliza
beth, or her ministers, in 1558. The contest between the
reforming lords and the church, carried on during the reigns
of Henry, Edward, and Elizabeth, were certainly reversals
of the ancient acquisitions of property by the church ; but
still, the motive, with which, however, we have no concern,
seems to have been much the same in both cases — namely,
the acquisition of large and important estates by persons
who had not, in the usual acceptation of the term, any very
legitimate title to them. The Caernarvon family did not
receive the original grant, though their ancestors did receive
a portion of the bishopric of Winchester as earls of Pem
broke, which earls also acquired the rich lands of the ab
bey of Wilton in the neighbouring county. Fitzwilliam
first received Highclere ; but sold it to Sir Robert Sawyer,
who was attorney-general to the last two monarchs of the
Stuart family ; and his only daughter marrying the then
earl of Pembroke, these estates passed to the second son,
and then to his nephew, the then earl of Caernarvon ; and
the Caernarvon family purchased the remainder of the
bailiwick from the bishop of Winchester.
The mansion is a modern one, commodious and not inele
gant ; and some of the apartments are of spacious dimen
sions. There are several good pictures in the mansion;
and altogether it may be considered a first-rate residence.
Indeed, it is the only one of note in this particular dis
trict of the county, great part of which belongs to the pro
prietor of Highclere.
Kingsclere is the only market-town in this part of
Hampshire. It is a small place, very rural in its aspect,
and carrying on no trade except the supply of goods for the
neighbouring farmers. It lies very near the chalk ridge,
and about five miles to the eastward of Highclere. It is
not upon any great thoroughfare, though there are several
roads leading from it to the neighbouring districts. In an

NGSCIEKC DELL.
BANTS

PJCSCLEIRC.
HA N T S

Winchester, Published, for the Proprietor, JaJ R,il>l<uu . lell,;,,, .'tee,
lit/ D.K.&ihrwiLr. t\. lie Libmrif, Molt Street

THE NORTHERN SLOPE. 11
agricultural point of view, the parish is rich as well as ex
tensive, the rental being 8667/. and the population 3151.
From its name, one would naturally infer that this had
been a royal residence ; and such it was in the time of the
West Saxon kings ; but all the memorials of royalty have
been abolished ; and the park, which was situated on the
slope of the hills about a mile south of the town, has been
converted into a farm.
We shall now very briefly enumerate the several parishes
which have their churches or villages within the limits to
which we have alluded. East Woodhay occupies the ex
treme north-west of the district and the county, and it abuts
upon the parish of West Woodhay in Berkshire. The
Hampshire parish is rich and extensive, well diversified by
patches of timber, and containing, besides the small village
at the church, two larger villages ; Northend, about three-
quarters of a mile to the north, and Eastend, about as much
to the east. Of course this parish extends the whole way
from the hills to the Emborne. The population is 1268,
and the rental about 5200/. Highclere is the next parish
to the eastward. It is not so populous as the former, great
part of it being occupied by the park and woods of High
clere house, within the former of which the parish church
is situated. The parish contains 444 inhabitants, who pay
a rental of upwards of 2000/. The parish of Newtown,
on the borders of the county, and only two miles south-and-
by-east of Newbury in Berks, lies partly between Highclere
and the river. The village is near, but not on the road
from Whitchurch to Newbury ; and the parish is neither
very rich nor very populous, the rental being about 600/.
and the number of inhabitants under 300. The church of
Newtown is the only one in Hampshire which is situated
near the bank of the Emborne river ; and this, together
with the absence of churches on the Berkshire side, shows
that the character of the immediate vicinity of this stream
must have possessed few attractions for ecclesiastics at the
time when churches and abbeys were first established.
c2

12 THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
The remaining churches within the district are, like Wood
hay and Highclere, near the chalk ridge ; and in this situ
ation they occur at no great distances, although they are by
no means so close as in the valley of the Itchen. Burgh-
clere is the first : the church and village of which are situ
ated about a mile and a half to the eastward of Highclere,
and about half that distance from Beacon hill and Ladle
hill. The parish is pretty large and rich : the rental being
nearly 5000/. and the population about 800; which is a
high rent for the number of people, and shows that the
parish is an agricultural one. There are a few cottages
spotted here and there ; but no village of any consequence
within the parish. Sidmonton lies about a mile east of
Burghclere, and the church is within the domain of Sidmon
ton house, a residence and manor which were granted to
the Kingsmill family by Henry VIII. Seven hundred and
sixty-four acres of the land of the parish belonged to Rom-
sey abbey before the dissolution of that establishment ; and
the whole of this extent was rated at one acre of wheat and
one acre of barley, in lieu of tithes. Itchingswell lies about
a mile and a half north of Sidmonton, and like that parish
does not contain a very great number of inhabitants. The
next parish to the east is Kingsclere, to which we have al
ready alluded ; about two miles to the eastward of Kings
clere there is situated the parish of Wolverton, and about
the same distance south-east of that, Ewhurst, near the top
of the downs. Wolverton contains a population of about
230, who pay a rental of upwards of 1300/. Ewhurst con
tains only 28 inhabitants, and the rental is less than 400/.
Ewhurst, of course, means the height upon which the ewes
were sent to graze. Pamber, about three miles east of Ew
hurst, has a rental of about 1800/. and a population of
nearly 500 ; and Pamber forest extends north-eastward, to
ward the ruins of the ancient city of Silchester.
In the intermediate space, and to the westward of Sil
chester, are the parishes of Baughurst and Tadley ; the lat
ter one of the poorest parishes in proportion to the number

!TI K C CHU fSCH.
B A NTS

LfTTLE L® n o® n.
BANTS

Winchester, Published for the Proprietor, Jo/Mohbuu, Colleoe Street
Pu JJ E JrUmour , Public Library, Sigh Street

LCIHI ESTEI& £H 0 RCIH.
E A Jf T S

LCH ESTE K.
HANTS

thcsfer, Fubhslud, for th,- Proprietor, Ja.t Rabbins. O-tlqe Su-m
By D E. Gilmour. Public library , High. Street.

THE NORTHERN SLOPE. 13
of its inhabitants in this part of the county, — the popula
tion being 683, and the rental only 880/. Much of the pa
rish is occupied by commons. Monk's Sherborne, about a
mile and a half south of Pamber, is a richer parish, though
it includes a considerable part of the downs, and there is
no village of consequence near the church. The rental
of this parish is 2222/. and the population 522. The
ground here belonged to a Benedictine monastery, which
was founded by Henry de Port, in the reign of Henry I,
and soon after transferred in property, first to the monastery
of St. Vigor in Normandy, and then, on the dissolution of
the alien priories, to the Domus Dei at Southampton, and
finally it passed to Queen's college, Oxford, to which it
still belongs. The fact of the early establishment of a re
ligious fraternity here, shows that this part of the county
was then much more inviting than that near the stream of
the Emborne.
The county here is very much diversified by small ine
qualities of hill and dale, which lie within short distances of
each other, and render the summit-level between the vale of
the Emborne and those of the more easterly streams very
difficult to be traced. The parishes of Monk's Sherborne,
Pamber, and Silchester, lie partially on the upper parts of
branches of the Loddon, and some of them upon branches
of the Emborne ; and thus they belong alike to two of the
natural divisions of the county.
Silchester is a parish of considerable extent, that is to
say, it contains more than 400 people, and the rental ex
ceeds 2000/. ; but it derives more note from the former
history and present remains of the old city, than it does
from the present condition of the parish. In this respect
it is one of the most remarkable ruins of fortified cities to
be met with in England. It is the " Caer Segont," or " Caer
Seyont," of the Britons ; the Vindonum, or rather, perhaps,
the Vindunum of the Romans, — as the latter spelling of the
name is the more expressive of its situation, which is on
elevated ground, though not so much elevated as that which

14 THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
Old Sarum occupies. Silchester is the Saxon as well as
the modern name ; though the city was demolished by the
Saxons during the march of Ella toward Bath, after that
leader had established himself in Sussex. Three Roman
roads converge upon Silchester : one from Winchester, one
from Old Sarum, and a third proceeds southwards from
the centre of England. Where the ground has been brought
into "regular culture these Roman roads have been com
pletely obliterated ; but they can still be traced upon some
of the commons and heaths. There are several entrench
ments without the great fortification of the city, and also
some tumuli in the neighbourhood. A small village to the
westward of the ruins is also called Soke, which would lead
one to suppose that there had been suburbs when the city
was in the days of its splendour. At present, however, and
indeed, all along since toward the close of the fifth century,
it has been decayed and tenantless, and without anything
that could be considered as even a village. Who were the
original founders of Silchester, it is impossible to say ; but
the British name clearly points to it as being the principal
strength or defensible residence of the Segontiaci ; but whe
ther they constructed any thing else but mud-walls is un
known. The stone wall, or at least what remains of it,
is similar in construction to those of places where the Ro
mans, or Romanised Britons, are known to have had strong
places. The situation is both strong and commanding ; and
the summit still affords some very good views of the diver
sified country around. Unlike Old Sarum and other hill-
forts on the chalk, there is water within the area of Silches
ter. This area is considerable, being about three furlongs
each way, and in round numbers, the walls inclose a space
which may be rated at about a seventh part of a square mile,
or something about one hundred acres. This enclosure has
been laid out in fields, and is cultivated. It also contains
the parish church and church-yard, together with some farm-
buildings. It is not level, but slopes gradually to the south,
with a small rill of water descending the slope ; and there

THE NORTHERN SLOPE. 15
are various little springs, which partially fill some parts of
the remains of the ditches, except after long-continued
drought. The remains of the walls vary in height in dif
ferent parts, being as much as twenty feet toward the
southern part of the enclosure, and less than fifteen in some
other places. What remains of them is composed of rubble,
or angular masses of stone of various kinds, strongly grouted
with hard cement. These have been bonded by courses of
larger and flatter stones, sometimes laid horizontally, and
sometimes set herring-bone ways. There is some reason to
believe, also, that great part of the walls may have been
cased with freestone, inasmuch as masses of that have been
dug up, with a portion of the rubble-work adhering to them
by means of the cement. The form is a sort of irregular
octagon, one side of which is directed due east. From the
extremities of this, four sides are directed southward and
three to the northward, the last of the northern ones being
the longest of all the eight. Thus, though an irregular
figure, Silchester does not belong to the same class as the
round and oval hill-forts, even though we overlook the cir
cumstance of its walls being made of stone cemented with
lime. Still it is adapted to the form of the elevated knoll
which it occupies, only the adaptation is, as much as possi
ble, made in straight lines ; within the area, the situations
of the principal streets of the old city can still be traced.
Two main ones, broader than the rest, but not very broad,
had led from the principal gates at the east, west, north,
and south, and crossed each other near the middle of the
area; and there are also smaller ones parallel to both of
these. Thus, the plan of the buildings in Silchester has
been much more regular than that of most of the very old
cities, if we except such as were laid out by the Romans ;
and this renders it probable that the Romans may have
found this merely a mud-fort, and turned it to a walled city,
in consequence of its commanding, and therefore advanta
geous, situation. On the south side there has been a pos
tern, or sally-port, of small dimensions ; and this is con-

16 THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
sidered by the rustics as having been the habitation of a
giant, who hoarded in it the money of which he plundered
the inhabitants around. This is of course wholly fabulous,
but it is a very common fable, as in times of ignorance, man
kind are prone to people with the ghost of a giant every ruin
of the origin of which they know nothing, and sometimes
to ascribe the erection itself to supernatural labour.
That Silchester was a permanent and favourite residence,
in times when the Romans were in this country, is proved
by the existence of an amphitheatre without the walls, as
well as by the number of coins and other Roman remains
which have been found in and about the place. The am
phitheatre is situated about five -hundred yards north-east of
the walls. This is constructed of clay and gravel, and not
cemented with lime, as the walls of the city are. The
banks are high and steep, about twenty yards in breadth at
the bottom, and narrowing upwards to five feet, or there
abouts, by five successive stages or steps. The bottom, or
area, where the spectacles were shown, is now in great part
covered with water, so that it cannot be very well examined ;
and the foliage in a great measure conceals the other parts.
The walls of the city are much better seen, and there are
slight traces of a square and larger erection of some kind or
other. Some fragments of hewn, and portions of inscribed stone,
have been found, but none of them of much historical im
portance ; Roman coins are far more numerous ; and it is
said that fragments of statues and their pedestals have oc
curred, both in alabaster and in common stone. The Ro
man coins comprise those of every emperor from Julius far
the last of the series, as long as they had any footing in this
country. These coins have occurred of brass, of silver, and
of gold; and some of the authorities say, that British coins
have also been found, but this wants confirmation. The
assiduity with which such places were ransacked, when
antiquarianism was as fashionable as geology is now, has
reaped the greater part of the regular harvest of these arti-

THE NORTHERN SLOPE. 17
cles ; and such as are now met with are found accidentally
more frequently than by those who search for them.
Though it does not appear that Silchester was of any
consequence as a Saxon town, or that it was even re-built
after its demolition by Ella ; yet it must, as a matter of
course, have been a point of thoroughfare for a long time
afterwards. The fact of the Roman roads crossing it would
render this the case, until the country had undergone those
changes which slowly and gradually led to the establish
ment of new lines, in situations quite different to those laid
down by the Romans. Such is a rapid glance at Silches
ter, one of the most celebrated, and also most ancient, ruins
in England — a ruin which has remained in that condition
for thirteen centuries and a half; and with it we shall
close our brief survey of the northern slope of the county of
Hants. Before doing so, however, and proceeding to another part
of the county, of which the character is, in many respects,
different, though it is mainly upon strata of the same
formation ; we may mention, that this half of the valley of
the Emborne differs, in some important natural circum
stances, from every other district of Hampshire. It is
chiefly on the tertiary formation, except in so far as that
formation is blended with the chalk, at the foot of the ridge
where the one overlays the other. The predominating cha
racter of this district is clay, or clayey gravel, without any
considerable portion of sand, such as we meet with in the
extreme east of the county, and in the adjacent parts of Sur
rey ; and, from the irregular ridge of knolls, which extends
from the chalk downs to the boundary of the county, be
tween the Emborne and the Loddon, we should be led to
the conclusion that the eddying deluge, which carried the
tertiary formation over the chalk in this part of England,
had its motion westward, and that it had been gradually di
minished in its velocity ; also, that the sand which forms the
crag had been deposited before the water was purified from
the clay contained in it. This is a different order of things
VOL. n. o

18 THE NORTHERN SLOPE.
from what takes place on the estuaries of rivers ; for there,
the clay is always deposited in a more inland situation than
the sand ; and this difference in the deposition of the sand
and the clay, shows clearly that no part of this tertiary
formation can be a river deposit; but that the whole of
it must have been, in some way or other, produced by an
action of the sea ; and not by the first overflowing of the
sea upon land which, although not inhabited by human
beings, had still not been without its plants and its animals.
The tertiary formation is incumbent on the chalk, which is
also of marine origin ; the chalk is incumbent on the green
sand, which is a marine formation also ; and the green sand
is incumbent upon the wealden beds, which, in as far as
they are water formations of any kind, are fresh-water for
mations.

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 19

CHAPTER II.
THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
This natural division of Hampshire is considerably more
extensive than the northern slope, of which we have en
deavoured to give an outline in the preceding chapter;
and it is also different in many of its physical characters,
although at the imaginary line which we have supposed
drawn from Rooksdown to Silchester, they run into each
other, and the same kind of surface occurs for a little way
in both. Berkshire forms the northern boundary of this
division, as well as of the former — with the exception of a
small part of Wilts, which lies in the fork made between
the Loddon and the Blackwater rivers, before they unite into
one general trunk. This part of Wilts comes in about four
miles to the eastward of Silchester, and forms the boundary
for about two miles ; and to the east of that there is ano
ther smaller patch of Wilts, which forms the boundary for
about half-a-mile. This latter portion is to the north of
Bramshill common; and the Blackwater parts the two coun
ties. The same river forms the boundary all the way to
very near its source, which is in the hills behind Farnham,
and the length for which it does form the boundary of
Hampshire is about sixteen miles. It is irregular upon
the hills, at Buckbury and Farnham beacon, and at these
D 2

20 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
heights the eastern boundary of this division, which is also
that of the county, may be said to terminate; the river
forming a pretty regular curve, concave towards Hampshire,
and, of course, making that part of the county convex, with
very few flexures except near its source. The southern
and south-western boundaries are by no means so definite,
as there are few running streams near the summits, and the
surface of the ground is very much diversified. The heights
behind Farnham are a continuation of the central chalk
ridge, which forms the Guildford downs between that town
and Farnham; but they do not attain any considerable
elevation from the low grounds immediately adjacent to
Farnham, until the heights already alluded to are arrived
at ; and from them, the water-shed continues westward, in a
very irregular line, until it reaches a point somewhere inter
mediate between the valley of Basingstoke and to that of
the Itch en.
Though there is chalk in this district — more especially
in the south of it, yet the greater part of it belongs to the
tertiary formation, or consists of that formation worked into
a calcareous loam, by an admixture of the chalk. We have
already noticed that this forms one of the best natural soils,
especially for plants that require much stimulus, and are at
the same time of vigorous growth. Such lands are, of
course, the best for hop-gardens ; and thus, many spots of
the country here, both in Hampshire and in the adjacent
parts of Surrey, are celebrated both for the quantity and
quality of that production. The town of Farnham, though
in Surrey, is not two miles distant from Hampshire, either
northward or westward ; and this part of the county, though
it lies high, and is cold and bleak in many places during
the winter, is beautiful in its scenery, and rich in its pro
duce. It is also well wooded ; and the swells and hollows,
hanging woods, open glades, rich fields and meadows, and
rustic dwellings, make a very pleasing variety. Further to
the north, a large extent of country bordering on Surrey,
consists of heaths and moors, which are neither beautiful

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 21
nor productive, but they are spotted with richer pieces
wherever there is enough of clay or loam to make the crag
or sand a little retentive. This is about the worst part of
Hampshire in point of agricultural susceptibility ; but still
much of it might be improved ; and, though the operation
would be expensive, both to begin and to keep up, it would
be fertile, and what it did produce would be of good quality.
The general line or slope here is toward the river ; but in
most places the surface is flat, with only sandy knolls here
and there.
A little south from the London road, between Blackwater,
on the border of the county, and Hartley Bridge, where the
same road crosses the Loddon, there are some small hills,
with Hartford Bridge flats, Yadley heath, and Everley com
mon, extending in dull uniformity, to the north of them. It
is along these flats that the great London road to Basing
stoke passes. There are, indeed, three great lines of com
munication across this uninteresting part of the county :
the Basingstoke canal, in the southern part of the district,
pursuing an exceedingly winding course, but lying nearly on
a level, and therefore requiring few locks ; the Southampton
railway, proceeding in almost a straight line from Basing
stoke along the middle ; and the great road from London
to the southern parts of the west of England, crossing far
ther north. All these three meet together at Basingstoke,
where the canal terminates, while the others continue on
ward to the great ports in the south-west. Upon the Black-
water, or boundary of the county, the road is about three
miles north of the railway, and the canal about four miles
south. But the canal winds so much that it lies parallel to
the river, and crosses the railway, or rather, is crossed by it,
only three-quarters of a mile eastward of the point where
that leaves the county. About four miles within the county,
the railway passes Fleet-pond, an irregular pool of stagnant
water, measuring nearly a quarter of a mile in area ; but
it is dull and uninteresting, from the flatness of the surface
and the poverty of the soil around it. Formerly there were

22 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
but few lines of communication across these flats, — the only
ones of much traffic, being the London road, already alluded
to, and the Farnham one which joins that at Bagshot. The
local roads were few and bad, as there was nothing to pay
for making them ; and the country was in consequence, to
a very considerable extent, a wilderness. The canal, we
believe, has not greatly improved the state of things ; but
expectations are entertained from the railroad, and they
may be, to a considerable extent, realised ; at least if we
may judge from the improvements that have taken place
along the great lines of turnpike road where the ground is
of a similar character. Lines of communication for the
transfer of passengers, necessaries, and produce, are the be
ginnings of improvements in all countries ; and when they
are properly kept up, improvement always follows ; nor is
there any reason to apprehend that it will stand still here.
From the heights behind Farnham, the line of water-shed
may be taken between the valley of the Wey at Alton on
the south, and the town of Odiham on the north, all the
way westward to Windmill hill, where the slope to the Wey
at Alton meets that to the Itchen at Alresford. This hill
is one of the most bleak and elevated spots in the county —
at least of any over which a great public road passes ; and
from causes afterwards to be explained, it is very subject to
fogs. From Windmill hill, the natural boundary trends
north-west, and in the direction of the meeting of the val-
ieys of the Whitchurch Test and the Loddon, a little to the
west of Basingstoke, being in the direction of Rooksdown,
or the camp on Winklebury hill ; and thence to Silchester,
the boundary is the same as that of the district noticed in
the preceding chapter.
Such are the natural boundaries of this district, stated
with sufficient accuracy for the common purposes of refe
rence and description ; and their length may be summed up
by a rude approximation as follows ; Winklebury to Sil
chester, north-eastward, about six miles ; Silchester, along
the border of Berkshire, and a patch of Wiltshire to the

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 23
Blackwater, eastward, about six miles ; sixteen miles along
the Blackwater, with Berks and then Surrey on the opposite
side — these two rivers meeting exactly where the London
road crosses the river ; south-westward, for about four miles
of a very irregular line, to the boundary of Surrey about two
miles north-west of Farnham ; south-westward, about eleven
miles, to Windmill hill ; and then north-westward, for about
twelve miles, to Winklebury or Rooksdown. These lines
are however, very irregular, and cannot be made the basis
of any estimate of the quantity of surface; but physical de
scription, and not mere extent, being our present object,
these statements are sufficient.
We have already adverted to the extent of sandy heaths
and peat bogs, situated to the westward of the Loddon in
this county, as well as to the eastward of it in Berks and
Surrey ; and these may be considered as one of the extre
mities and extremes of character of the district, whose phy
sical action, and its effects upon the climate, and the fer
tility of the surface, we shall endeavour to explain. The
other extremity consists of the southern and western heights ;
highest, as we have said, in the general level in the neigh
bourhood of Alton ; terminating eastward within the dis
trict, and trending north-westward toward the summit-level
in the northern valley near Basingstoke. The general slope,
therefore, of the whole district, without reference to the
minor diversifications of its surface, is toward the north and
north-east ; and there are three principal rivers, or branches
of one river, the Loddon, which flow in this direction. First,
there is the Blackwater, bordering the county, but travers
ing the heaths and mosses. Secondly, there is the White
water, which rises a few miles south-west of Odiham, and
pursues a winding course of about ten or eleven miles to
where it joins the Loddon, on the boundary of the county ;
and thirdly, there is the Loddon itself, which rises a mile or
two to the west of Basingstoke, and flows north-westward
for fourteen or fifteen miles, including the windings ; but
the other two branches do not meet this one within Hamp-

24 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
shire. The courses of these rivers necessarily determine the
positions of their several valleys, and all of them are joined
by little brooks, which meet them nearly at the same angles
as they meet each other. Thus the whole surface is divided
into a series of primary, and another of secondary valleys,
as regards the county, but in themselves only branches, and
very small branches of the great valley of the Thames. In
the south-western part, there is a very considerable breadth
without any perennial running water, and this may be re
garded as the table-land of Hampshire, though it is very
much broken by hill and dale, well clothed with wood in
many places ; excellent corn-land in others ; and, generally
speaking, a rich, as well as a beautiful country. The names
" Blackwater," and " Whitewater," are very well descriptive
of the portions of the district through which they flow ; or,
at all events, they indicate the tinge given to the water by
the soil. The Blackwater is a pure stream among the
heights behind Farnham ; but when it reaches the flats and
moors it becomes tinged with peat. On the other hand,
there is 'little or no peat on the course of the Whitewater;
and accordingly its colour and qualities resemble those of
the rivers described in our first volume, only, perhaps, this
river is not so pure and limpid. The Loddon is also a
transparent river, compared with the Blackwater ; and the
valley of it is, for the most part, rich and beautiful.
The local action of the atmosphere is carried on be
tween these elevated and generally fertile heights in the
south and west parts of the district, and the flat heaths and
moors on the north and east. These moors of tertiary
formation, even where they are composed of crags, do not
drink up the water which falls upon them so thirstily as
the moors on the green sand, south of this ridge of the
chalk. This is the cause of the growth of mosses, the
thirsty sands being in general covered with short heath only,
with little or no moss upon the surface ; and the decom
posed moss reacts and increases the tendency of the surface
to resist the entrance of the rain which falls upon them.

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.

25

This prevents the water from getting into the sand; and
thus the soil is dry and warm below, which causes the rain
that falls on the general surface to be rather speedily eva
porated. Then, the droughts tell strongly upon them ; and
at such times their dark surfaces become considerably heated;
but when there is dampness upon the surface, there is a
diminished radiation of heat. Accordingly, taken upon the
average of the seasons, these mossy flats are rather cold ; and
the surface-action of the sun upon them does not vary so
much, either with the day or the season, as it does upon the
dry heights. The consequence is, that there is a general
tendency of the atmosphere from the moors to the heights,
just as there is from the water-meadows to the downs in the
southern parts of the county. As is the case there, the air
steals upward to the heights during the day, when these are
heated, and remains a dry atmosphere while the heat conti
nues ; but, as the heat subsides during the night, heavy dews
are formed in the summer ; and fogs, more dense than even
on the flats themselves, are produced in the winter. There
is another cause which tends to increase the winter fogs
upon those heights, and that is the meeting of the atmosphe
ric actions of the east and west sides of the county. The
point of meeting, and of maximum effect of the two atmos
pheres, depend of course on the relative degree of their sepa
rate actions ; but upon the average, it is at or near the prin
cipal summit-levels ; because it is upon those that the cold
air of the night has the greatest tendency to come down.
So also, these heights, which in most places consist of a
stratum of gravel or gravelly clay, more or less thick over
the chalk, are both more absorbent and more radiant of heat
than the chalky downs upon which there is no gravel.
The radiation of heat during the night keeps the surface
thus warmer than the air over it can bear ; and thus the fog
forms to a considerable height ; and it is dense, in proportion
to the difference of temperature between the two, and the
quantity of moisture in the descending air, jointly. In corro
boration of this, it may be mentioned as the result of obser-
VOL. II. E

26 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
vation, that the winter fogs are always most dense upon the
most elevated parts of these summits, and upon those where
the situation is nearest to the parting of the eastern and the
western slopes:— for instance, on the London road from
Farnham to Winchester, the fogs are most dense about Wind
mill hill ; and they are also very dense on the heights be
tween Odiham and Alton, more so than in the interjacent
hollows. These fogs are disagreeable for night travellers,
and not wholly without danger to those who ride in fast-
going carriages over a country so very hilly, and where
ascents and descents alternate with each other at such short
distances. But this fog has none of the pungent qualities
which the fogs of London derive from the saline and sul
phureous vapours which that great city sends up, neither have
they any, or at least not much, of the pestilent nature of that
demon, miasma, which rides somewhat mysteriously on "the
reek o' the rotten fens." To vegetation they are decidedly
favourable, as they water it in a more gentle manner, and
one in which the whole plant is more completely saturated
than it could be in a heavy fall of rain. They also retain
the rich particles of decomposing vegetables, which heavy
rains are apt to wash away, or carry down into the subsoil.
Thus the fogs are a watering given to the ground, of which
that ground receives the full benefit, without being injured
by the receiving of it. They do not very often extend far
down the valleys of the western rivers ; and so, when the
fog is very dense upon the hills to the east, there is not a
particle between Alresford and Winchester. Along the other
lines it is much the same, the fogs being very seldom thick
upon the west sides of the principal summits. The coldness
of the eastern flats is one of the chief causes of the preva
lence of these fogs, and also of the superiority of the crops
upon the good lands in this part of the county. In other
states of the atmosphere, rain is produced upon these heights,
but the rains there are not so heavy in proportion to those
between the places where they fall and the sea, as they are
in the central counties of England. The soil and surface-

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 27
vegetation change so much, however, at Short distances in
this diversified part of the county, that it is by no means
easy to frame a general description that will apply to the
whole. Before we can have a full understanding of the manner
in which the atmosphere of such a district works, we must
attend to the character of the grounds for some distance
around it, in all directions — north and south, as well as east
and west. North-west, there is the chalk ridge between
the upper part of the valley of the Loddon and the northern
slope of the county. As far as this continues it forms a
sort of barrier to the general current of the atmosphere ; at
least to the portion of it which is nearest the surface of the
ground. Hence, in all cases, excepting those of very strong
general gales which sweep everything before them, and,
for the time, obliterate all the minor local motions of the
air, there is a play of that fluid between the chalky ridge,
and the rich grounds about Basingstoke. In summer, when
the hills are dry, and heated, and heating the air over them,
they draw up the air from the fields, meadows, and woods
below, and prevent that stagnation of the air which is un
favourable to the health of plants as well as animals. We
know much less of the process of aeration, or breathing, in
vegetables than in animals, because we are not acquainted
with any specific organ, or set of organs, by means of which
the operation is carried on, — any more than we know what
specific matter, obtained from the earth or the atmosphere,
forms the food of plants. There have been speculative
theories formed upon both subjects ; but they are, one and
all, grounded upon animal analogies ; and therefore they are
of no value for practical purposes. We do know, however,
that none of the plants which are valuable to man, either
for himself, or for domestic animals, can live without atmos
pheric air ; and that, if they have not free exposure to this
air, they are always inferior in quality, whatever they may
be in quantity. We also know that many living and grow
ing things, in whose economy the air is necessary, must
e 2

28 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
have that air changed ; for it is a general law in the breath
ing of all that breathe, be the mode and the means what
they may, that the residuum of air which has been once
breathed, is unfit for being breathed again. It is the same
with that humidity which is equally essential to vegetation.
Plants must be watered in some way or other ; but a con
tinual soaking is injurious to all the more kindly land-
plants ; and it is especially unfavourable that the surface of
a plant should be coated with a pellicle of water when the
hot rays of the sun are beating upon it. Independently of
the absorption of moisture by the plant, a certain quantity,
varying with the nature of the plant, and with many other
circumstances, must be evaporated from its surface, in order
to keep it in a healthy tone. If this is not afforded, the
plant shrivels up, as we find in the grass upon dry and dew-
less fields in the hot months of summer. The cause of
this is easily seen : the plant works in its growing, by means
of the properties of humidity and heat — there are others, in
deed, but these are the chief ones, and all that are neces
sary for our purpose ; some adjustment of these to each
other must be favourable to the most healthy growth of
every plant; and, as there are plants suited to all situations
and climates, the proportion must vary in each species.
The degree of variation is a matter of observation for the
practical cultivator; but the truth of the principle is un
questionable. — Water-cress, for instance, cannot be made to
grow on a dry down, or wild thyme in a stream of water.
The common agricultural, culinary, and timber plants, are
those which are most valuable to man — and most orna
mental to the country upon the large scale. Now, they are
all what may be called medium plants, in respect both of
solar action and of humidity ; and thus they never can grow
in the most profitable manner if these a* e not in something
like the proper ratio to each other, — or when both are in
excess, or deficient. If humidity is in excess, the quality of
the growth is bad ; and if the excess gets beyond a certain
degree, the plant languishes, turns blanched and yellow for

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.

29

want of the requisite portion of carbon ; and, if matters are
still pushed farther, its growth and texture are both de
stroyed. Light, as well as free air, is essential to the
healthy carbonization of a plant ; and this lets us see that
the plant absorbs the carbon in the form of carbonic acid
gas ; because oxygen is given out by the action of light ;
and as light always tends to increase the proportion of car
bon, it follows, as a matter of course, that the action of the
light throws off the oxygen and leaves the carbon behind.
It is carbon — which in itself is one of the most incorruptible
of substances — which gives strength and durability to the
timber of trees, and their most nutritious quality to all
vegetables which are used either as the food of man or of
domestic animals. En passant, this is the reason why the
sheep fed on the dry downs of the south of England, or upon
the mountains of Wales or Scotland, yield mutton so supe
rior in the flavour of the muscle, and especially of the fat,
and so rich and racy in the juice, as compared with that
which is grown upon rank pastures in the humid parts of
the country ; and it is necessary to a proper understanding
of the natural working of such a county as Hampshire that
we keep all these little circumstances in view.
If the proportion of humidity, as compared with that of
heat and light and aerial action, be but a little deficient, the
quantity of growth in the plant is diminished, and the qua
lity increased. If the deficiency is greater, the plant be
comes stunted ; and if carried still farther, it is parched and
perishes. Farther, if all the kinds of action to which the
plant is exposed, are in excess as compared with the consti
tution of the plant, even though the proper balance to each
other is preserved, the plant works unfavourably for agri
cultural purposes ; and though it may be large in size, it is
deficient in fruitfulness. For this reason, our common
grain-plants cannot be grown in the rich fields of tropical
countries ; for if there is humidity enough for their growth,
they run up to stem, and produce little or no grain. For
a similar reason, barley and oats, especially the latter, which

30 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
is the more northerly, or, at all events, the most upland na
tive, are very inferior upon the low-lying and rich lands , of
England, to what they are upon the dry hills, or in Scot
land. Bearing in mind the general facts or principles embodied
in these paragraphs, let us return to the district of Hamp
shire under notice, and begin with that part of it by which
we were led to make these remarks — remarks of first-rate
importance to every inhabitant of an agricultural county,
whether proprietor, farmer, or consumer. The warm air,
ascendiDg from the top of the dry chalk ridge, when that is
beaten upon by the summer sun, ascends, and draws up the
more weighty and more humid air from the rich grounds to
the southward. By this means, the vegetation is relieved
from that excess of moisture which its leaves or other work
ing structures have accumulated during the night. This is
a daily operation in the growing months, but it is a gentle
one, and often imperceptible ; because, though the humidity
should be in such abundance as to appear a light summer fog
in the bottoms, it melts away into the more dry air over the
heights, which, under such circumstances, is actually warmer
than that over the hollows. This continues, as long as the
strength of the sun beats upon the hill, — upon the thin and
comparatively dry vegetable covering of which, it tells, of
course, much more strongly than upon the corn-fields, mea
dows, and woods below, where there is more humidity to
evaporate, and where the surface of the earth itself is much
more in shadow. Sometimes, however, these light summer
mists may be observed stealing slowly up the slopes ; but
they never actually settle upon the summits, as is the case
with those air-formed fogs which appear in clouds upon the
mountain tops, as harbingers of rain.
What has now been stated is one part of the local action
in this natural section of Hampshire, and in all places which
have their surfaces similarly diversified in form, in composi
tion, and in produce ; for, though we have taken the chalk
ridge and the valley at Basingstoke as our particular exam-

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 31
pie, on account of the strong contrast which they form to
each other, the same kind of action goes on between all the
varied surfaces of the country, in proportion to the diffe
rences of character between the elevation and the hollow.
In principle, this is the same as the few remarks which we
made in our first volume, upon the action between the
water-meadows upon the southern rivers, and the downs
which form the boundaries of their valleys. But here, espe
cially in the south-west of the district toward Odiham and
Alton, it takes place simply between height and hollow,
without the assistance of any water-meadows, or any streams
by means of which these can be formed. It is true that
there are water-meadows upon some parts of all the three
branches of the Loddon, and of course wherever these exist,
the action between them and the intervening dry downs will
be much the same. It is not, however, the circumstance of
water-meadows and downs, or even that of heights and hol
lows, by which the action is produced. These are circum
stances favourable to its production no doubt; but they are
not the primary causes. Two surfaces, each of some extent,
the one much less susceptible of change of temperature by
the action of the same solar influence, are all that is requi
site ; and a field out of crop with the surface naked, and a
wood or field covered with close vegetation of any kind
which shadows the ground from the solar beams, have pre
cisely the same action upon each other, though not to the
same extent ; and this is one reason why fields under diffe
rent crops, or under crops which come to maturity at different
seasons, tend of themselves to improve the climate, and even
the soil, where husbandry is carried on in a skilful manner.
It is true that the rotation of crops has other advantages,
which are more obvious to the agriculturist, though not in
themselves more valuable than these less obvious ones.
The same artificial crop cannot be grown to the greatest
advantage upon the same spot, even for two consecutive
sowings ; because there is always a tendency in highly-bred
plants to relapse back to the native original ; and change of

32 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
crop, as well as change of seed, from one district to another,
is the means of preventing degeneracy. Upon extensive
plains, where the soil as well as the surface is uniform, the
local action depends in a great measure upon the farmer;
but hilly grounds, varied soils, and admixtures of woodland,
down, and meadow, among the lands under culture, such
as occur in so many parts of Hampshire, perform in them
selves a great part of the work, and lighten the labour of
the farmer in this way, just as they do in that of drainage.
These are among the grand natural advantages of the county;
and it is pleasing to reflect that a county, whose chief value
is agricultural, should have so many natural advantages for
the easy and successful carrying on of that foremost and
most essential of all the arts.
The alternation which takes place in the absence of the
sun, and which is just the reverse of what is effected by the
presence of the luminary, condenses the air and brings it
down upon the low places. As it cools and descends, its
evaporative power diminishes; and night fogs (not un
wholesome, for they are air-formed, and thus consist of pure
water in its most liquid state,) are produced, or dew is
formed upon the surface of all the vegetation. By either of
these^ the growth is much more promoted, than if the hu
midity were to come in the shape of rain; and hence the
little grassy grades retain their greenness, and the crops on
them their freshness, during droughts which burn up the
grass, and turn the grain crops sickly in the leaf, upon ex
tensive and uniform plains.
In the autumn, when the corn-fields are cleared, and
their plantless surfaces exposed to the action of the sun,
they take the place, or rather perform the office which is
performed by the dry heights, when the valleys are in the
vigour of their greenness. In the earlier autumnal months,
by the calendar, which months, or at least many weeks of
them, are commonly very dry and very warm in such a
county as Hampshire, when the sun acts powerfully upon
the naked fields during the day — and they cool as rapidly

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 33
during the night — night-fogs are formed upon the ground,
which refresh the meadows, and the turnip and other crops
still in growth ; and also favour the ripening of the buds on
fruit and timber trees, which would be too much forced into
premature hardening were the night as dry as the day.
These fogs rise higher than the light fogs of summer,
reaching a good way up the slopes of the hills, and some
times as high as the summits — especially where those sum
mits are of such comparatively trifling elevation as they are
here and in most parts of Hampshire.
While these fogs are so serviceable to vegetation, they
are not unhealthy either for man or for animals ; and the
appearance of them, especially in the hilly part of the dis
trict we are noticing, is often exceedingly beautiful, just at
a little after sunrise, about the end of August or the early
part of September. The best position for seeing this pleas
ing phenomenon to advantage, is to get to one of the most
elevated points, and look athwart the country to the rising
sun. In such a situation, the upper surface of the fog is as
level as that of the tranquil sea ; and, it is dense enough for
reflecting a considerable portion of the light of the sun,
and thus of having much the appearance of water, only the
colour of it is more subdued and delicate. At first it fills
every hollow, so that only the hill tops are seen ; and as
there is a slight mist upon them, that mist has the same
effect as an additional quantity of air ; and thus, a mile or
two of prospect is magnified to an immense horizon, by the
magical effect of this peculiar kind of aereal perspective.
As the sun ascends, and the light beats more directly upon
the fog, it melts away ; still preserving a uniform level, as if
this mimic ocean were ebbing down into some subterranean
cavern. As this proceeds, new summits, and trees, and
copses, and cottages, with a church-tower here and there,
make their appearance. As they appear, they advance,
from the increasing transparency of the air ; and, by the
time the last lingering portion of the air-supported sea has
vanished from the hollows, the landscape has approached
VOL. II. F

34 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
you, to within a fraction of its original distance, and all its
features are as clear and graphic as can well be imagined.
Such is the aspect of an autumnal-morning mist among
the lovely little hills of this part of Hampshire. Few phe
nomena can be more pleasing to a lover of nature — none are
more frequent or more easily observed ; and the observer
has the satisfaction of knowing, that this gentle and beauti
ful display works wholly for good. It is true, that these
morning fogs are not unfrequently followed by showers in
the course of the day ; but such showers are of considerable
value in swelling the turnips, causing the newly-sown wheat
to spring up and cover the clods, and in improving the last
swathe upon the hay-field, and the grass upon the pastures,
— all of which tend to the economising of the winter store,
and the promise of the future crop.
The ready action of surface upon surface, in' such varied
districts as this, is also productive of advantages to vegeta
tion in the more advanced period of autumn, and in winter.
Flatter and less varied regions are far more subject to hoar
frosts, where the forming dew congeals upon the leaf and
bud, and is melted again by the heat of the sun. The buds
are pretty safe in those hybernacula which nature provides
for their special protection ; but, upon, the growing plants,
more especially the young ones, the action is too severe for
not being injurious. The freezing upon the plant produces
a certain degree of heat ; and if the fluids within the plant
are frozen, they expand, and injure its more delicate tis
sues. Then, if the ice upon them is suddenly thawed, the
cold contracts them, and the plants are injured before the
contents have had time to thaw. This is the reason why
many culinary vegetables boil more tenderly after they have
been touched by frost ; but, though this may be better for
the vegetable, when it is to be thawed in cold water and
then dressed, yet the effect upon the living vegetable is
very different. The flesh of animals, especially of wild ones,
in which the fibre is naturally more rigid than in tame ones,
is more tender and more esteemed in its incipient putre-

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 35
scence than when it is fresh ; but a living animal in the same
state would be at the gates of death.
Another circumstance, in which the peculiar nature and
form of the surface of this and other hilly parts of Hamp
shire, and to all countries of similar character, are favourable
to their wholesome fertility as agricultural, is the readiness
with which snow is formed, at a comparatively early part of
the season. The formation of snow in the air has, in some
measure, the very opposite effect upon vegetation to that
which is produced by the formation of hoar-frost or ice upon
the plants themselves. The freezing of moisture in the air,
always produces heat in that element, by disengaging that
action of heat which had previously kept the water liquid,
and in a state of vapour ; thus the falling snow does not
cool the vegetation, or the earth on which it falls, to the
same extent as water which is frozen there. Indeed, unless
in so far as it melts as it falls on the surface, it has no ac
tive cooling effect whatever ; and if it falls in sufficient
quantity, and lies for some time, it warms the ground under
it. It does so in this way : — snow is a very bad conductor
of heat ; and by this means, when the sun shines upon it,
it assists in warming the air, as well as in preserving the
warmth of the ground. The rays of the sun are not ab
sorbed by the snow ; they are reflected into the atmosphere,
and produce more effect there, by this double action, than if
they acted only once. The earth under the snow, is always,
even at a very small depth, much above 32° of the common
thermometer, the temperature at which snow is formed ;
and when the snow-shower is formed in the air over the
height, and blows thence to the warmer hollow, it often
falls there before there is any effect of frost upon the sur
face, or at all events, when the effect of that frost is
exceedingly small. True, it seldom continues, when the
surface on which it falls is not at all touched by frost ; and
yet, if the fall is considerable, the melting of that which falls
first, will often cool the surface to such an extent as that it
will preserve the rest unmelted. As long as the snow lies,
f 2

36 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
the vegetation under it is protected from all injury, and not
only so, but the roots and also the leaves will grow, and
some plants will flower under the snow. It is the early
fall and the long continuance of snow, in countries far to
the north, which makes the summer vegetation so rapid and
so vigorous there ; and, what geographical position does
to these regions, is done, to some extent, by the form of the
surface, and the nature of the soil, in such districts as the
hilly parts of Hampshire. It is true that the spring is pro
tracted by the circumstances lastanentioned ; but this, when
not too great, is an advantage. Too early springs, in a
country of such variable climate as that of England, are the
most dangerous seasons that the farmer can meet with ; for
what is done in March in the way of growth, is in great
danger of being undone in April and May. This blending of
great variety of climates and seasons, like the blending of
soils and surfaces, is of great value to those regions in
which it takes place, in the beauty of their scenery, as well
as in the productiveness of their soil, and the quality of
what it produces.
The hints which have now been given, and which are all
our limits will admit of, are absolutely necessary for un
derstanding, and in so far answering, each of the three
great questions which form the main subject of the present
work, — namely, what Hampshire has been in times past,
what it is at the present time, and what it is likely to be
come in future. The natural capabilities of the county are
the essential data for the solution of each and all of these
questions ; though there are others, which blend with and
modify them, more especially as concerns the past. Of
these modifying causes, some have been political; some
what may be termed civil, as arising out of changes in the
information, the occupations, and the commercial relations,
of other parts of Britain, and of the rest of the world ; and
some are natural, or owing to physical changes. The poli
tical ones belong chiefly to the past, as there is now little
chance that any political change shall have that general

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THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 37
-effect upon society which such changes once had ; and the
rest are more applicable to the present and the future. — But
we must proceed with our topographical sketch of the dis
trict ; and allude to the more argumentative, but more use
ful matters, incidentally only, as occasion may justify.
The superior nature of the soil and climate of this divi
sion of Hampshire, with the exception only of the flats near
the Blackwater, has led to the constructing of a good many
splendid parks and residences ; and some of these are of the
first order. The towns in it are but few, and none of them
very large ; and Basingstoke and Odiham are the only ones
which are regular market-towns, and polling-places for the
northern parliamentary division of the county, — as Kings-
clere is the only markeWpwn and polling-place in the north
ern slope, which was described in the preceding chapter.
Basingstoke, though not of the same importance now,
relatively to the rest of the county, as it was in former
times, is, and must always be, a place of considerable im
portance ; and one, the importance of which is likely, nay
certain, to increase every day. It possesses several advan
tages over most of the other small towns of the county.
Its situation is very beautiful ; and the land about it very
rich — many fields being of sufficient quality for the produc
tion of hops ; and the crops upon most of the surface are of
the highest order. Thus, a great deal of farm-produce, — far
more than is necessary for the supply of the town and
neighbourhood, is raised every year, and brought to the
corn-market in the town, which is well supplied and well
attended. Then, Basingstoke enjoys the advantage of being
a greater thoroughfare than any other town in the inland
parts of Hampshire; or, indeed, in the south of England.
From the south and west, the great roads through Salisbury,
Andover, and Whitchurch, through Stockbridge, and through
Winchester, are concentrated upon it; as are also various
other roads upon the north and south, all of which meet in
the great road to London. Then the canal originates here ;
and though its length is very great, as compared with the

38 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
direct distance between its extremities, that is, between
Basingstoke and Ham Haw common, where the canal
merges in the navigation of the Wye; yet the lockage is
inconsiderable as compared with the length of the line ; and
thus the canal is of great advantage for the carriage of farm-
produce, and all other heavy goods where the slow progress
of the navigation is a matter of minor importance. Could
this canal be carried across the summit-level to the Whit
church branch of the Test, a most important line of water-
carriage would have been established ; but this is impracti
cable, both on account of the deep cutting which would be
requisite, and of the want of water at the summit. Still, it
is doubtful whether Basingstoke suffers much from being at
the terminus of its canal, because it thereby becomes a
place at which the canal-borne goods, both to and from the
metropolis, are stored ; and this gives a good deal of bustle
and employment, and consequent profit to the inhabitants.
The advantages of the canal, like those of its position and
its productive vicinity, are such that Basingstoke can never
lose them ; as no other canal, south of that which joins the
navigations of the Kennet and Avon can, from the nature of
the country, come in competition with it — nor can indeed be
so constructed as to work at all. Further south, the Wye
and the Itchen approach to within no very great distance of
each other, but to join them by a water-communication,
presents even greater difficulties than the junction of the
Loddon and the Whitchurch branch of the Test. One of
the greatest advantages which Basingstoke derives from the.
canal, besides the export of raw farm-produce, and of malt —
which is now the chief manufacture of the town, is the
fetching of coal, which may come from the port of London,
or from some of those places on the Thames where midland
coal is brought for sale, cheaper than the sea-borne coal
from London, but inferior in quality for domestic purposes.
The line of the Basingstoke canal is also very convenient
for the town of Odiham, as it passes the high-road only
about a half-armile to the north. At Grrevill hill, about

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. ^9
two miles to the west of Odiham, the canal passes through
a tunnel of about three-quarters of a mile in length.
The London and Southampton railway passes a very little
to the north of Basinstoke, so little indeed, that it is more
convenient, as well as more safe, than if it had passed
through the middle of the town ; and when that line of
communication shall come into full play, with its projected
branches to Salisbury on the west, and Portsmouth or Gos
port on the east, there is no doubt that Basingstoke will
derive some advantage from it, though it may diminish the
quantity of goods now carried on the canal. The advantage
which it will derive will, of course, be that for which its
situation best adapts it — the collection and distribution of pas
sengers, and of goods for the supply of the district by which
it is more immediately surrounded. Besides this, the rail
way, as a new and more rapid means of transit than those
formerly in use, will increase the traffic ; but of course it
will lessen the employment of coaches and wagons upon the
lines of road that lead to places at which the railway touches.
Two hours and a half will amply suffice to transfer passen
gers from London to Basingstoke, or up again, so that there
will be no expense on the road other than the fare of the
train. This will be the case also to Southampton and to
Salisbury, and the saving of time will be one half as com
pared with the rate of the fastest coaches now on the road.
It is probable that, in the Saxon times, and also in those
of the earlier Normans, Basingstoke was a place of inferior
importance to Basing, now Old Basing, a little farther down
the Loddon. This is rendered probable, by the name stoke ;
for though " stoke," literally means a stake, or stakes driven
into the ground, as steps whereby to cross a river, or for
any other purpose, — being the same as the word "stick";
yet it was frequently applied to hamlets, in which the houses
and the chapels or the churches, when they possessed these,
were constructed of sticks, or posts and wattles, and not of
stone, in some style of architecture or other; as appears to
have been the case with the strongholds and principal pa-

40 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
rish churches, at least in the time of the later Saxons, and
in some situations for many years before the Saxon invasion.
According to the assessment in 1831, the town and parish of
Basingstoke contained a population of 3581, with a valued
rental of 11,382/., which is considerably greater than the
rental of the town of Romsey, though the population is
nearly two-fifths less. This comparatively high ratio of the
population to the rental, evinces a superiority, in some re
spect or other, on the part of Basingstoke, and one feels dis
posed to attribute this partly to its being a greater thorough
fare, and partly to its greater distance from any towns which
can come into competition with it. That it arises chiefly
from the greater intercourse, is proved by the fact of the
rapid increase of the population of Basingstoke, which has
been about forty per cent, in the thirty years from 1801 to
1831. The town, though not parliamentary, is corporate ;
governed by a mayor, recorder, seven aldermen, capital bur
gesses, and so forth ; and besides its weekly market on every
Wednesday, fairs are held in it on the Wednesday in the
Whitsun-week, and on the tenth of October. The principal
buildings are on the line of the London roads to Winchester
and Whitchurch; but there is also a considerable extent
along the north roads to the downs, and the south road to
Alton. The town is rustic in its general appearance ; but
it contains many good houses, and there is an air of com
fort and thriving about it. The town-hall is modern, and
that and the market are neat and commodious. The parish
church is large and not unhandsome, constructed of stone
on the south side, and of alternate stone and flint on the
north. The tower is low, though square and massy, but
the structure is not a very ancient one. The manor belonged
to the Crown at and before the time when Doomsday book
was drawn up ; and, as a royal manor, it was exempted from
taxes. The parsonage of the church and that of Old Basing
belonged, in common with those of most churches in Hants,
to the bishop of Salisbury ; but they were made over to the
priory of Selborne, when Peter de Rupibus took to abbey-

jUT^j/Hy^^Jr^^

ifllB 111 Ww

SIKCSTOKI CHURCH.

RANTS.

HANTS.

Winchester, Published For the Proprietor. JaJ. Rohhins . College Street
RyD.B Gibaour, Pub lie Library. Ui ah Street

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.

41

founding as an atonement for the errors of his youth. When
the brethren of that institution had irreclaimably wandered
from the right path, and could not be brought back again
either by pope or bishop, so that they had to be abolished,
the advowson of both churches was transferred to the col
lege of St. Mary Magdalene, as an appropriate votive offer
ing at the shrine of that immaculate saint. They still re
main in the gift of the college ; and the vicarage of Basing
stoke is a rich living. This was not the only foundation in
Basingstoke ; for, at the suggestion of the founder of Mer-
ton college, Oxford, Henry III founded an hospital here,
for the support of worn-out and useless fellows and scholars
of the said college. This college has, however, become ex
tinct, and the building is nearly obliterated. Another an
cient remain here, or, at all events, trace of a remain, near
the burial ground where the railway passes, was the chapel
of the Holy Ghost, erected in the time of Henry VIII, and
now ruined and nearly obliterated. Besides these establish
ments, there is a free-school in the town, and a charity-
school, some of the boys attending which are supported by
the Skinner's Company in London. As Basingstoke lies
in a ' situation where an army could more easily pass from
the west to the east, than by any other route, near it, either
on the north or the south ; it is understood to have been
the scene of sundry contests, especially between the Saxons
and the Danes ; but the records of these contests are few,
and like the other historical facts that rest on the authority
of the monkish chroniclers, they are not to be implicitly de
pended upon.
As the church and village of OldBasing are situated only
about two miles to the eastward, or down the Loddon, from
Basingstoke, and as the site of Basing house, a plate of
some story, is but a little way to the south-west of the church
and village, we may take some notice of them before we
proceed to mention the market-town of Odiham. Old Ba
sing is rather a wealthy and populous parish, lying on the
rich grounds near the river ; and containing a population of
VOL. II. G

42 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
1103, with a rental of 5632/, which is high, being more
than 51. to each individual of the population, and showing
that the parish is an agricultural one, and one which holds
no mean rank in that class.
Basing house is celebrated for the determined resistance
which its proprietor made to the parliamentary forces in the
time of the civil war, which resistance was not overcome
till Cromwell himself — the invincible warrior of the time,
personally led and directed the attack. Basing house seems
to have been a structure and residence of no small impor
tance at a very early period of English history. When the
Doomsday book was drawn up, it was the chief of the fifty-
five lordships in the holding of Hugh De Port, one of the
most influential barons in the whole county. After some
time the De Ports assumed the surname of St. John ; and
after various transitions from name to name, through failure
of heirs male, it came into the possession of the Paulet fa
mily in the reign of Henry VI. Sir William, the then re
presentative of the family, was created Baron St. John of
Basing by Henry VIII ; and earl of Wiltshire, and marquis
of Winchester, by Edward, the predecessor of Mary. This
personage appears to have been a courtier of the highest
order, inasmuch as he remained a favourite, through a long
course of years, with monarchs of the most opposite descrip
tion — Henry, Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth. This facility
of ingratiating himself with sovereigns of so very different
dispositions and views, of course enabled him to accumulate
no ordinary quantity of the good things of this world, out of
the proceeds of which he re-built Basing house in the most
fashionable and splendid style of the time. When eighty-
five years of age, he entertained Queen Elizabeth in splen
did fashion, at his mansion here ; and that royal lady, who
knew how to flatter, as well as how to be vindictive and
cruel, was pleased to declare, that had it not been for his
great age, she would have made the lord treasurer, which
office the marquis then held, the partner of that royal
couch — to permanent repose upon which no living man was

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.

43

permitted. Extreme flexibility of character — a sort of ac
commodating to circumstances, surpassing the vicar of Bray,
or the notorious earl of Shaftesbury, appears to have been the
demonstration of temper, in virtue of which this nobleman
bent into the safest position to every wind that blew, even
when the politics of England were a perfect tornado. The
lords of this mansion and manor do not appear to have for
gotten the advantage which their shrewd ancestor derived
from his easy flexibility to the desires of all sorts of kings
and queens ; for his grandson William, entertained the then
somewhat antiquated Elizabeth, in the first year of the
seventeenth century, with pomp and circumstance, which
shewed that there was gratitude owing, nathless the physi
cal deterioration of the prime object of lordly attraction.
The same gratitude to royalty, though from the circum
stance of the times not perchance so much seasoned with the
salt of well-being to the useful part of the nation — for though
Elizabeth was cruel to her paramours, she was kind to her
kingdom — the descendant of this nobleman — if nobility
consists in title — was most zealous in the cause of Charles I.
A man who had profited so much through the medium of
his gently bending ancestor, by the favour of all sorts of
kings and queens, had really no alternative but, right or
wrong, to stand by the power which had made his mighti
ness. Accordingly, he was one of the most sturdy sup
porters of Charles I ; when that sombre and solemn, but
somewhat stupid monarch, treading in the footsteps of his
father, Jamie, but not clearly understanding the " reulis
and cautilis" of that pedantic man of peace, had sinned be
yond forgiveness against the noblest interests and best rights
of the English nation ; and, by most unseemly violation of
the law, had brought his royal head under the infliction of
its severest punishment, — when the nursling of the not al
together notorious Buckingham had done these things, and
the independent people of England resolved to throw off
the excrescence recently imported from the more fawning
regions of the north — in the same way as the sloughing of a
g2

44 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
healthy body throws off the corruption of an ulcer; the then
lord of Old Basing house stood sturdily up for Charles and
corruption, and stood up with talent and energy worthy of a
better cause.
The resolute defender of the castle of Old Basing was
John, the fifth marquis of Winchester ; and there was, per
haps, no parallel to it in the war between Charles and
the Parliament, — although internal wars, or Civil wars,
as they are most unaptly called, are more mixed up with
personal and party feelings, and therefore waged with more
rancour and desperation, than wars between nation and na
tion. Basing castle was first assaulted by Sir William Wal
ler, the parliamentary commander, in the month of August,
1643 ; but after three attempts to storm it, all made in the
course of nine days, Sir William was repulsed by the gar
rison, and obliged to retreat to Farnham. A more formi
dable party, consisting of almost the whole parliamentary
forces in Hants and Sussex, under the command of the
brave Colonel Norton of Southwick, near Portsmouth, has
tened to renew the siege. The marquis was not intimidated
by this new formidable investment, but declared, that though
the king should lose every foot of land in England, he
would still defend the castle to the last extremity ; and to
inspire all his garrison with the same resolution, in case
any of them should need it, he wrote with a diamond on
every window of the house, the words " Aimez Loyaulte,"
— Love Loyalty, — not, love Royalty, showing that he stood
out thus gallantly for the king, not upon personal grounds,
but from regarding him as the legitimate head of the govern
ment and administrator of the law — that he was a loyalist
in principle, not a party royalist.
Colonel Norton was also a loyalist, though a loyalist,
having different views of the matter : he took the field, and
took it bravely, for the privilege of the parliament, which
Charles had unquestionably invaded ; but he had no hos
tility to the king according to law. It happened in that
unfortunate contest — in which England suffered more than

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.

45

in any other since the war of the Roses — that some of the
most loyal men — the men most devoted to the whole con
stitution in all its three branches, were arrayed upon each
side; while mere courtiers mingled with the one party, and
enemies to both king and parliament mingled with the
other. Upon the side of Charles, the loyal men stood only
for the constitutional authority of the king ; while the cour
tiers stood for him in disregard of the constitution. The
loyalists on the side of parliament stood only for its consti
tutional privileges ; the rest of that party being enemies to
all government. Between the first sections of the two par
ties, it was merely a misunderstanding ; but between the
second it was implacable and deadly opposition. The for
mer were anxious to save both constitution and country :
the latter recked not for the ruin of both. This distinction
is an important one, and necessary, before we can do justice
to brave and good men upon either side — to such men as the
marquis of Winchester and Colonel Norton — during this dis
tracting, and frequently misrepresented period of our history.
Colonel Norton invested Basing house, without assaulting
it ; and his object evidently was to procure the surrender,
not to effect the destruction, of the castle and army of his
compatriot. This is evident from his having cantoned his
forces in order to cut off the supplies of the garrison ; and
when the garrison made sallies, his troops usually retired
after a skirmish. The siege, or rather blockade, was a tedi
ous one, and lasted the whole of the summer of 1644 ; but
by the autumn of that year, the plan of Colonel Norton
began to take effect, and the garrison were in want of sup
plies. The blockade, however, was not so close as to prevent
the dispatch of a messenger from the castle; and accordingly
the marquis sent again and again to the king for relief.
The strength of the parliamentary garrisons of the interme
diate towns, and their having possession of great part of the
country, caused these applications to be long unheeded ;
but when at length the marquis sent positive information,
that, unless relieved, famine would compel him to surren-

46 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
der in ten days, it was, resolved to hazard the apparently
dreadful attempt.
When this was resolved on, Colonel Gage, one of the best
and bravest officers of Charles's party, volunteered to conduct
the enterprise, and many of his troops, both horse and foot,
also volunteered their services, though for relief, not for
assault. It was a sort of forlorn hope ; and therefore it called
out the best and boldest soldiers of the royal army. Gage
conducted them with great skill ; and had it not been for
the imprudence of some of those under him, who went out
foraging with the badges of their party, he would have
come close upon Basing house without its being known to
Norton. As it was, he came so near that Norton had no
time to concentrate his forces ; and though a part of them
made resistance, the onset by Gage was so irresistible that
the besiegers were driven from one side of the castle, and
Gage, having supplied it with ammunition, marched for Bar
singstoke, in quest of provisions ; that town had been a ren
dezvous of the parliamentary commissioners of forage, and
accordingly Gage got as much as his troops could remove,
with which he entered the garrison, and remained for a day
or two, sending out his troops for farther supplies: upon
learning, however, that the parliamentary forces were col
lecting in order to fall upon his rear, and also to meet him
in front and dispute his passage over the Kennet, he con
trived to mislead them by false dispatches ; and' he returned
to Oxford with the loss of only ten men killed, and not many
wounded. But the relief afforded by this gallant enterprise
was only temporary ; for Colonel Norton, who probably
pursued the same tactics of not destroying his countrymen
if he could avoid it, which he had shown by investing not
assaulting Basing house, was still in possession of the
country ; and in two months' time, the supply began to be
exhausted, and the garrison in the same distress as before ;
and when this was known, Colonel Gage again proposed to
relieve it. Provisions were now difficult to be obtained near
the place, even though a party should reach it ; and there-

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 47
fore Gage selected a thousand of the best horsemen, each
loaded with as much corn and other provisions as his horse
could carry, and this was easily delivered to the garrison ;
for Norton had drawn off his troops into winter quarters
before the arrival of Gage.
How long this blockade without assault might have been
carried on, if Colonel Norton had returned to invest Basing
house, it is not easy to say. But by this time the better
feelings of both parties, had deen merged in the alloy of the
more furious. Oliver Cromwell was in the field, armed
with great determination, great military talents, and with
the most fanatical enthusiasm, so that he was everywhere,
and wherever he came he smote like a thunder-bolt. Scarcely
had he arrived, when the fortifications of Basing castle were
demolished, the brave garrison dispersed, the mansion plun
dered of property to the amount of two hundred thousand
pounds, and then burnt and battered to a heap of ruins:
— Such, in brief outline, is the story of the final catastrophe
of the castle of Old Basing.
Every 100/. of the plunder which Cromwell seized at Old
Basing cost the life of an Englishman, 2000 having been
killed during the sieges. The final capture of it, too, may
be said to have been by surprise ; for the outworks being
breached, two regiments of Cromwell's men, under Waller
and Montague, mounted the ramparts of the place, and set
upon the garrison before it was aware of the inbreak of the
enemy ; — it is probable that the forbearing tactics of Colonel
Norton may have thrown the marquis off his guard, and
thus made him a far more easy prey to the impetuous onset
of Cromwell than he otherwise would have been. He, and
his second in command, Sir Robert Peak, with about four
hundred of the garrison, were made prisoners, and many of
the rest were put to the sword.
Though Basing house was the structure most completely
ruined at this time, and as such is generally named in the
accounts of the transaction, it was not the stronghold, or
even a castellated keep, such as is met with in some parts

48 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
of the country, in all the old baronial castles. It was a pa
lace, and a very splendid palace, in what is called the Eliza
bethan style, built by the first marquis — he who was the suc
cessful courtier of so many sovereigns of conflicting politics.
The castle, or fort, is of unknown antiquity ; and from its
ample size, its commanding situation, and its circular form,
it was probably a place of strength before the Roman inva
sion. The area, inclosed by the principal fort and intrench-
ments, was about fourteen acres and a half; the ditches
were very deep, and the ramparts high and strong. Within
the inclosure was a circular citadel, with a fortified platform
on the north, apparently for the accommodation of bowmen,
before the invention of musketry, in case of an enemy car
rying the body of the place. Originally the walls had pro
bably been of mud ; and we believe that no Roman masonry
has been met with; but the more modern gate-ways and
walls were of brick, laid in very strong cement. Altogether,
Old Basing is a place of much interest, and from the size of
the church, and the antiquity of some parts of it, it was, in
all probability, a place of great resort before Basingstoke
took the lead of it in point of population.
The history of the defender of Old Basing and his imme
diate successor, is an eventful history, and has so much of
apparent romance in it, that a brief sketch may not be alto
gether out of place. The marquis received neither honour nor
emolument at the Restoration, notwithstanding the brave de
fence he had made, and the loss which he had incurred ; he
lived in retirement, not in any re-built portion of his former
palace, or even in the chateau of Hackwood, which occupied
a part of the site of the modern mansion of the same name,
about two miles south of the demolished palace and the
ruined castle. He ended his days at Englefield, in Berks,
and his remains were interred in the parish church there.
His demise took place in 1674 ; and his eldest son, Charles,
who succeeded to the titles and estates, played Hamlet,
during the remainder of the Stuart domination, only his
Hamlet was not a tragedy, but a comedy ; and one which

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE: 49
ended well, and shewed that he had assumed his disguise
for some purpose. In his mode of life he was a very mad
cap, taking no apparent interest in religion, in politics, or in
anything serious ; but hunting, hawking, making glee and
fun all day, except some hours at noon, which were allotted
for sleep, sitting down to dinner at six or seven in the even
ing, and never quitting the table, or suffering the wine or
the viands to be removed till the same hour in the morning.
There is no reason to believe that he was in the least dissi
pated, or that he was the cause of dissipation in others, far
ther than that he made his guests, who were numerous and
warmly attached to him, remain at table the whole night
long. They might take a nap, however, or they might
drink, or sing, or dance, or make innocent sport of any
kind, and he was always foremost in the fun ; but it appears
that his madcap hall was virtue itself, compared with the
palace of that sovereign whose ingratitude to so loyal a father
had made the son put on perhaps the most bizzure deport
ment ever assumed by any English nobleman. Yet, under all
the froth of this assumed appearance, there ran a stream of
the soundest wisdom, and the most honest devotedness to
the civil and religious liberties of England, — a stream which,
had the glance of tyranny fallen upon it, would have brought
the marquis to the block. But his disguise was complete,
and the madcap marquis of Winchester danced, and hunted,
and dined away, with the universal character of being a
man of no use to anybody. When, however, the tyranny
of James had roused the good old spirit of England, which
had been drugged to stupor in the reign of the second
Charles, the marquis of Winchester cast off his disguise in
an instant, was one of the foremost and ablest men in bring
ing about the Revolution, was created duke of Bolton by
William, and raised a regiment, and fought gallantly for that
monarch in Ireland. He died in 1698, and left behind him
a most singular, but most estimable and imperishable me
mory. This nobleman was assisted in bringing about the Revo*
VOL. II, H

50 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
lution by his sons ; and the dukes of Bolton were in high
favour with the House of Hanover, until the family became
extinct in the male line, in 1774, and the estates passed
into the hands of Orde Paulet, Baron Bolton, in right of his
lady, who was daughter to the fifth duke of Bolton, the last
except one. Lord Bolton modernised the pleasure grounds
at Hackwood, or Hawkwood, — which is one of the finest
parks in the county — or the kingdom.
Odiham, the only market-town in the district, save Bar
singstoke, once contained a royal residence ; and, it is beau
tifully situated, and in a very rich part of the county ; but it
does not possess the same local advantages as a thorough
fare that Basingstoke possesses — the roads to it in all
directions being hilly ; and therefore, it is more confined to
the supply of the neighbourhood, and the transfer of the
produce of that to other markets. The town is small, but
the parish is large, and much of it consists of very fine land.
The parish contained, by the census of 1831, 3310 inhabi
tants, and the rental was returned at 8777/. A considera
ble number of the inhabitants reside in the village of North
Warnborough, which is between the town and the park and
castle, and extends nearly a mile along a country road. Odi
ham was formerly a free borough belonging to the bishop of
Winchester ; but the castle and park belonged to the crown;
and the former was a fortalice strong enough for being, in
the time of John, defended by fifteen men for fifteen days,
against the attacks of the barons. The keep of the castle
is still called King John's house ; but only the ruins are left.
These stand on a height about a mile north of the town, and
near the opposite bank of the Whitewater, which passes a little
to the west of Odiham ; but here its quantity of water is
not great. Odiham castle was a prison for royalty, as well
as a palace ; for, when David, king of Scotland, was taken
prisoner at Nevill's Cross, in 1346, he was conducted to the
castle of Odiham, and kept prisoner for eleven years, — at the
end of which he was liberated, upon giving hostages, and
paying a ransom of one thousand marks. Lilly, the gram-

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THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 51
marian — not the astrologer, the Sidrophel of Butler, was
born at Odiham. He travelled to Jerusalem to see the
Holy Sepulchre, learned Greek in the Isle of Rhodes, and
Latin at Rome; and returning to England, he settled in
London as a teacher, was the first master of St. Paul's school,
and published the Latin Grammar so long in use. Dog-
mersfield, about a mile to the east of Odiham, is a mansion
belonging to the Mildmay family. The mansion stands in
a park of about 700 acres, finely diversified and wooded,
and containing a sheet of water of considerable size. At
one time the archbishops of Canterbury had a residence
here. >
As this part of the county differs from the southern part
in the absence of religious houses or their sites or ruins, but
contains several very fine parks and mansions, we shall men
tion one or two more of these, before we proceed to enume
rate the parish churches and principal villages;
Strathfieldsaye claims a forward place among them, on
account of its extent and its beauty ; and, when we take its
present proprietor into consideration, it claims the foremost
place of any mansion of a subject within the realm. It is
the residence of Arthur Wellesley, duke of Wellington; and,
we believe, is a testimony of the nation's gratitude to him,
for more extensive and more valuable services than ever
before were rendered to Britain or to Europe by a military
man. Of his military fame we speak not, that is on the
record of the whole civilised world, now and for ever, and we
would not spot its lustre by any eulogy in words. We may,
however, remark in passing, that the duke of Wellington,
from the beginning of his brilliant career to the end, was
never a patronised soldier, who owed his promotion to friends
or to purchase ; he won his honours as every honourable man
wins distinction, by strenuous exertion, till experience had
made him thoroughly master of every department of his pro
fession, and every means by which conquest could be insured,
at as little sacrifice of his own troops, and as kindly to the
conquered, as possible ; and, when he had outdone all his
h 2

52 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
Contemporaries in professional power, he stormed the high
places of the army one after one, and won them with honour
to himself, and applause from every soldier of whatever rank.
The gleam of his glory was first lit up in the hazardous but
happy-terminating battle of Assaye, and he brightened and
broadened it by victory after victory, until at Waterloo it
covered the world. We speak chiefly of him as a man — of
his inflexible intregrity, his perfect justice to every man and
every nation with whom he came in contact, of the equani
mity with which he bore obloquy that he did not deserve,
and of his perfect indifference to flattery, when the civilised
world from one end to the other was ringing with his
applause. His letters after the great battle was won, were
occupied chiefly in expressions of sorrow for the friends he
had lost in the action, and words of condolence to their sur
viving friends ; and, after the Allied Armies entered Paris, he
was steadily, constantly, and energetically employed in acts
of preservation and kindness towards the French people.
Of his very arduous and straightforward life since the peace
we say nothing. Every public man in England must be of
a party, and party is inconsistent with the purpose of these
pages ; but this much we must say, that, whether in public
or in private, the intentions of the the duke of Wellington
have always been pure, aud his actions spotless.
Strathfieldsaye, the residence of his grace, is situated in
the extreme north of the county, about three miles and a half
east of Silchester, and stretches about a mile along the mar
gin of the larger patch of Wilts, which here lies between
Berks and Hampshire. The average breadth of the grounds
is also about a mile, and the average length from north to
south about a mile and a half. The river Loddon winds
through the grounds, dividing them into two unequal parts,
and is expanded into various sheets of ornamental water, —
the mansion being in the western or smaller division. On the
eastern side, the ground swells into hills ; and though the
park is not one of the most extensive in the county, it is very
pleasant. The parish church stands at the south-western

S S

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.

53

corner of the domain ; and the parish contains 808 inhabi
tants, and has a valued rental of 4794/.
" Strath," or " Strat," as it is usually pronounced and
Written in England, in all probability a Normanised ortho
graphy, always implies that there is a "stretch" of level
ground with elevations of some height or other along the sides.
It is a British word, and very common in Scotland, nor is it
unknown in Wales. From its occurring here in Strathfield-
saye, and also in the adjoining parish of Stratfield Turgis,
we would naturally conclude that this part of the valley of
the Loddon had been cleared and cultivated in very early
times. Stratfield Turgis is a smaller parish than the former,
having 1267/. rental, and 232 inhabitants. There are many
seats in this neighbourhood which our limits will not permit
us to detail. Heckfield is only about a mile to the east of
Strathfieldsaye ; and the grounds there are of considerable
extent. This parish is more populous than Strathfieldsaye,
but it contains more commons, and the rental is not so large.
The population is 1202, and the rental 3209/. About two
miles south-east of this, and on the opposite side of the
White and Black waters, Bramshill park is situated, it is on
the left bank of the Blackwater, with an extensive common
to the north, and a heath to the south ; and above this there
is no seat of any consequence upon the Blackwater ; as the
ground here becomes less fertile and inviting. Parish churches
are also few and far asunder in this eastern portion of the
district ; Eversley and Yateley being the only ones. Both
are near the river, though not upon the water-meadows,
which are here of considerable breadth. Eversley, though
much of the land is poor, is an extensive parish, with a popu
lation of 755, and a rental of 3554/. Yateley lies about two
miles to the east of Eversley, and is a still larger parish with
a soil of poorer quality, and the population much higher in
proportion to the rent. The rent is only 2700/., while the
population is 1874, which is only about 30*. to each indivi
dual. In the direction southward of Yateley, there is not a

54 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
single parish church in the district ; nor is there one within
an average distance of about six or seven miles from east to
west, and about eight miles from north to south. The first
one we come to is Crondall, three miles north-west of Farn
ham, and rather more than a mile within the boundary of
Hampshire. This is on better land, at the source of one of
the branches of the Whitewater, and it is large and popu
lous, with a village of considerable size at the parish church.
The rental is 8782/., and the population 2010. About half-
a-mile west of Crondall, stands Ewshot house, once the
seat of the Giffords, who were for many years sheriffs of
the county. The grounds are of small extent; but they
were laid out by Capability Brown. Westward of a line
drawn from Eversley to Crondall, the land improves greatly,
and churches and seats become more numerous. Dogmers
field, on the east side of the park already alluded to, is a
good deal occupied by commons ; but the rent bears a high
ratio to the inhabitants, which is one evidence that the land
under culture is good. There are only 272 people, and a
rental of 1696/., which is more than 61. to each individual,
or four times as much as in the parish of Yateley. Winch-
field, immediately to the north of Dogmersfield park, is the
next parish, with a population of 237, and a rental of 1552/.,
which shows that it is a parish of nearly the same char
racter. Hartley Wintney, about a mile and a half north
of Winchfield, brings us to Heckfield. It is an extensive
parish, and contains a considerable number of inhabitants ;
but the soil is not so rich, nor the rental so high in propor
tion to the people, as in either of the two lastrnamed par
rishes. The population is 1139, and the rental 3868/. The
road from Odiham to the great London road at Hartley Row,
passes through these three parishes. It is hilly; but the
scenery is beautiful. At Hartley Wintney, a Cistercian nun
nery was founded soon after the conquest, for a prioress and
seventeen sisters, and it continued till the dissolution by
Henry VIII. About a mile east of the church is the house
and grounds of Eveltham, which was a seat of the earl of

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THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 55
Hertford, and rendered conspicuous, about the close of the
sixteenth century, for a three days' entertainment of Elizabeth
upon one of her progresses ; but it has now passed into other
hands, and the mansion has been much curtailed in its
dimensions. We shall now turn our attention to the downs westward
of Odiham, and notice the parishes and places which are
situated there, from the valley of the Itchen as described in
the first volume, and the valley of the Wey to be described
in the next chapter, to the vicinity of Hackwood park, and
to where the Whitewater becomes a definite stream. The
natural boundary is quite indefinite here ; but we shall take
it from Crondall, along the heights to Windmill hill on the
London road, and thence by Farleigh wood in the direction
of Winklebury hill, as these are points to which we have
already referred.
Adopting this line of boundary, the first parish church and
village is Long Sutton, two miles south of Odiham, and one
to the east of the road between Odiham and Alton. This
parish has 326 inhabitants, the greater part of whom are
collected into the village near the church ; and the rental of
the parish is 2430/. It lies near the summit of the downs,
and is in some places bare of timber, but some parts of it
are good land. A mile to the west, and on the road, the
church and village of South Warnborough are situated.
This parish is the same in extent, population, and character
as Sutton, the rental being 2839/., and the population 374.
The sub-stratum in this part of the county is chalk ; but it
is, in most places, covered by a portion of the tertiary forma
tion, varying in substance from loose gravel to strong clay,
and in thickness from a few inches to several feet.
Shalden is situated on the line joining South Warnborough
and Windmill hill, about three miles and a half distant from
the former, and four miles from the latter. The country here
is bleak, and the inhabitants few. There are only 167 in
the parish, and the valued rental is 1133/. The people are
mostly resident in the village ; and the open fields have a

56 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
naked appearance ; but the surface is varied by copses and
woods, spotted about in all directions. Bentworth is about
two miles and a quarter south-west of Shalden; and it is
much more wealthy and populous — the rental being 3392/.,
and the population nearly 600. Lasham lies a mile and a
half westrand-by-north of Bentworth, and more on the cen
tre of the high grounds. It contains 236 inhabitants, and
the rental is 1128/. The road from Basingstoke to Alton
passes through the village. Meadsted, about a mile and
three quarters north-and-by-west of Windmill hill, occupies
the extreme south-west of the natural division. It has a
population of 418, and the rental is 2402/. By comparing
the rental and population of these parishes, it will be seen
that they are all of the same character, the proportion of rent
to an inhabitant, being about 51., which is an average popu
lation for an agricultural district.
Proceeding northward in the direction of Winklebury, we
come to the church and village of Weald, which is a parish
of the same character, but on the western inclination of the
county ; and about two miles to the north-east is Bradley,
with a population of 103, and a rental of 756/. This parish
consists, in great part, of downs ; and it may be considered
as lying on the western slope, as it is not two miles east of
Preston Candover on the north branch of the Itchen. But
as there are no running waters here for several miles, there
are no means of determining the summit-levels without actual
measurement, the labour of which would be immense, and
of no adequate utility, as no great line of communication
requires to be laid down over these heights. Ellisfield,
Farleigh, and Cliddesden, are the remaining parishes on the
western part of the heights, and bring us nearly to Basing
stoke, Cliddesden being only a mile to the west of Hackwood
park. Ellisfield lies about two miles and a half north-and-
by-east of Bradley ; and there is much woodland in the line
between them, and also in the neighbouring parish of Far
leigh, the church of which lies about a mile and a half to the
north-west, and the village is half a mile to the south-east of

THE NORTH-EASTERN' .SLOPE.

57

the church and hear to Farleigh wood. Ellisfield has a
population of 245, and a rental of 1804/. The population
of Farleigh is 108, and the rental 1232/. Cliddesden is
more rich and populous, the rental being 2106/., and the
population 329. The village of Cliddesden is of conside
rable extent ; but the neighbourhood is very bare from want
of timber, — forming a striking contrast to Farleigh parish.
We shall next enumerate the parishes on the central part
of the heights between Cliddesden and South Warnborough.
These are only about six miles and a half apart ; there is
not a stream of water in the whole range, and only one
residence of any note, and yet there are five parish churches,
Winslade, Tunworth, and Upton Grey, on the direct line ;
and Herriard and Weston Patrick, farther to the south.
Winslade lies a little south of Hackwood. It contains 134
people, and the rental is 1277/. Generally, it is bare of
timber; which also is the character of the two parishes to
the east. The population of Tunworth is 126, and the
rental is 816/. : those of Upton Grey are 425, and 1215/. —
a smaller rental as compared with the number of people.
Herriard is about a mile and a half south of Winslade ; it
contains 426 people, and the rental is 1315/. On the north,
there are woods of some extent ; and to the eastward of the
church is Herriard park, the only mansion and demesne of
any consequence on the downs. Weston Patrick lies about
a mile to the south of Upton Grey, — population 210, rent
836/. The grounds about the village are high and bleak,
but there are woods and copses at some distance to the
south. Mapledurwell, about three miles east of Basing
stoke, in the direct line to Odiham, is the last parish on
the high and bleak downs. It stands on the brow of the
northern slope, within about half-a-mile of the Basing
stoke canal. It has a rental of 816/. and contains 211 in
habitants. There are some barrows on the slope of the
down, which show that there has been a battle here at some
remote period. A small branch of the Loddon rises near
this place.
VOL. II. i

58 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
Grewell is the only parish in the valley of the White
water ; and it is in the upper part within about a mile of
Odiham. The church is pleasantly situated on the left
bank of the stream ; and the parish contains 217 inhabi
tants, with a rental of 968/. Immediately to the north of
Grewell are the park and site of the castle of Odiham ; and
to the north and west of them, the woodlands of Hack com
mon and Butler wood, — the former extending northward to
the railway. Below this parish, there is' no parish church, or
village of any consequence, in the valley of the Whitewater,
until it reaches Heckfield, already noticed, about a mile and
a half from the boundary of the county.
In the valley of that branch of the Loddon which rises at
Mapledurwell, there are the three parishes of Skewers,
Newnham, and Rotherwick, all on the right bank ; and far
ther down, on the same bank of the Loddon, after the branch
joins it, is the parish of Hartley Wespall, which brings us
down to Stratfield Turgis ; and these complete all the pa
rishes eastward of the main stream of the Loddon. Skew
ers lies directly east of Old Basing, two miles distant from
it, within three furlongs of the river, and a very little to the
south of the great London road. It is not a large parish,
but the soil is rich. Newnham is not a mile north of Skew
ers, and only half-a-mile from the river. It contains 329
inhabitants, and the rental is 1431/. Rotherwick is rather
more than a mile north of Newnham. It is a more exten
sive and valuable parish than either of the former, with 436
inhabitants, and a rental of 2109/. To the eastward of the
village there are considerable patches of wood ; and imme
diately to the south of the western part, are the house and
grounds of Tilney hall, the only considerable park and man
sion in the neighbourhood. Hartley Wespall is a mile and
a half north-westward of Rotherwick, and a mile and a
quarter south of Stratfield Turgis. It contains 283 inha
bitants, and the rental is 1774/.
From Basingstoke to opposite Hartley, there are water-
meadows on the Loddon, and also on the eastern branch,

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE. 59
from near Skewers to the junction. But, immediately west
from Hartley, the heights come close to the stream, which
appears to have worked itself a passage here, and emptied
a lake, or at all events, drained a marsh, on the upper part
of the river and its branch. This will account for the ab
sence of churches and other ancient buildings near the banks
in these parts ; and the same hypothesis explains similar cir
cumstances in other parts of the county. The churches were
of course erected where the ground was best, at the time of
their erection ; and so, when we find them on the banks of
streams, we may conclude that these banks were very early
in a state fit for cultivation ; whereas, we may draw the op
posite conclusion, where the churches are at a distance from
the water. The same remark applies to residences, that is,
to ancient ones, though it does not apply to the same extent;
inasmuch as the old residences, which were of sufficient
importance to leave remains, were always places of strength;
and therefore, though a steep height was essential to the
early mode of strengthening a post, yet it was always desi
rable to have a supply of water at hand to fill the ditch.
On that part of the river where the Strathfields are situated,
there has been no marshy bottom, no lake to empty ; the
bank slopes gradually, and this is the reason why the
churches there are near the river, and have the word " strath"
applied to them. We may also remark, that the name Hart
ley, which occurs so often in this part of Hampshire, throws
a little more light upon the early state of the country.
Hartley literally means " the pasture of harts," or males of
deer ; and we infer that these "Hart-leys" were certain open
places to which the animals came to graze when they left
the close forests.
The only portion of this natural division of Hampshire,
which remains to be noticed, is that which lies between the .
right bank of the Loddon, from Old Basing northward, and
a line drawn from Rooksdown to Silchester, This portion
is nearly bisected by a nameless branch of the Loddon,
which rises in the downs about a mile west of Monks'
i 2

60 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
Sherborne, and after a course of six or seven miles east
ward, falls into the Loddon about a mile and a half above
Stratfield Turgis. The bank on the north of this stream,
though not high, rises abruptly, and the whole surface is
formed of gentle swells and hollows ; there is no considera
ble village in it, neither is there any parish church, with
the exception of Strathfieldsaye already noticed, save the
church of Bramley, which stands about half-a-mile from the
nameless brook and two miles from the Loddon. This is
an extensive and rather a valuable parish, — the population,
which is scattered through a number of small villages, being
419, and the rental 2794/. On the south side of the brook
there are three parishes, Chinham, about a mile and a half
north-and-by-east of Basingstoke ; Sherborne St. John, about
two miles north-west of Chinham ; and Sherfield, about two
miles and a half north-east of the same ; the two parishes
first named are in the first hollow under the chalk ridge,
and a swelling ground of the tertiary formation divides them
from Sherfield. There are only 41 inhabitants in the tithing
of Chinham. Sherborne St. John is a populous and wealthy
parish ; the inhabitants are 702, and the rental 3460/.
About a mile to the north-east of Sherborne St. John, there
is situated the Vine, a place of some note in history. It
was formerly the seat of the Sandys family, who made a
considerable figure, both in the local history of Hampshire,
and in the general history of England. It is also stated
that this place derived its name from vines introduced from
Italy by Probus, and cultivated here. This is by no means
unlikely, for the Romans and Romanised Britons, and also
the monks during the middle ages, had vineyards and made
wine in various parts of the south of England. Nor is
there much reason to doubt that, in favourable situations,
and with proper skill and care, the same culture might still
be carried on ; though whether it could be done profitably
is quite another matter. In many parts of Russian Poland,
where the winter is far more severe than in any part of
Britain, and the summer shorter though hotter, the peo-

THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.

61

pie grow vines, and make wine of the grapes. No doubt it
is " small acid tiff," but the flavour of the grape is in it ;
and most of the other qualities can be artificially imparted.
Sherfield, the only parish remaining to be noticed, slopes
principally toward the north and eastward to the Loddon.
The church is about a mile from the principal stream and
the village is small, but the population of the whole parish
is considerable, being about 599, and the rental is 3111/.
Such are the general outlines, and such, in brief, the
principal details of that natural district or division of Hamp
shire which slopes 'to the north-east, and extends from the
highest part of the central chalk ridge to a considerable
way into the secondary strata. It has no general history
like some of the western districts, which were petty king
doms of themselves in very early times ; for, though Sil
chester is generally said to have been the stronghold of a
sept or clan of the Britons, yet it is probable that their ter
ritory extended only a little way into this district. Still,
however, it is not without its interest, both on account of
past transactions of which it has been the scene, and of its
present state, and the improvements of which it is suscepti
ble in future, as well as of the lines of communication which
pass through it. Taken upon the whole, it is probably the
most varied portion of Hampshire, in its surface, its soil,
and its climate. The south-west part of it is a sort of table
land upon the chalk heights ; eastward of this, there are
hills and dells, with such wavy irregularities of the chalk
and furrows of that substance, filled up with gravel, sand,
and other tertiary matters, as would lead one to conclude,
that the sea-flood which brought the tertiary formation, had
been a long time in action ; and that the chalk had been
thus pitted and furrowed by it, before the deposits were
brought to their present localities. The crag-sand, which
we meet with in the extreme end of the district, is proba
bly the result of a later action of the waters than the gravel
and the clay, but still it is the result of a marine action, and
not a fresh-Water one ; — the crag could not have been de-

62 THE NORTH-EASTERN SLOPE.
posited by any of the land-floods, which were occasioned' by
the bursting of lakes in the early history, as there are no
beds of these of sufficient magnitude for having contained
tHe requisite supply of water. The atmospheric action
upon this natural division of the county is as well worthy
of study as the peculiar action of the water by which the
strata have been placed in their present order. It is one of
the localities where all the winds of heaven may be said to
meet ; and thus it is one in which the air can never stag
nate or become unhealthy ; but, though the details might be
curious, they are too numerous as well as too minute for
general notice.

THE EASTERN SLOPE.

63

CHAPTER III.

THE EASTERN SLOPE.

That portion of Hampshire of which the eastern slope is
the most descriptive general name, is well defined by na
ture, both in its boundaries, and in some of its leading phy
sical characters. Its eastern boundary, indeed, being nearly
that of the county — the line where Hampshire ends and Sur
rey or Sussex begins, depends on no natural feature of the
surface, or quality of the soil. It is purely arbitrary, and
must be pointed out, in order to be known ; and the best
way of obtaining a knowledge of it is to study the map.
The map given in this work, which has been carefully re
duced with the best instruments, by a practiced geographer,
from the Ordnance Survey, may be depended upon for
general purposes ; and those who have occasion to go into
minute details, should consult that Survey itself — it being
the only original document which can be implicitly relied on,
for the shape and boundaries of any one county or district
in England.
The eastern slope of Hants, occupies the middle part of
the east side of the county, from the hills north-west of
Farnham, to the chalk ridge south of Petersfield; and
though, like most parts of the county, the surface of it is
very irregular, the general slope of it is due east, or away
from all the rest of the county.

64 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
Its western boundary is an arc, approaching nearly to a
semicircle in the general curve, but waving and irregular in
the minute parts. The extremities of the curve are : — on the
north, a point in the hills to the north of the Wey, say
Farnham beacon, two miles north-and-by-west of the town
of Farnham ; and on the south, the point where the boundary
of the county crosses the chalk ridge, say, about two miles
and a half north-and-by-east of the borough of Petersfield.
The chord of the arc, or straight line from the one of
these two points to the other, is about twenty miles in
length ; but the actual boundary, being very irregular, is
much longer — something between thirty and forty miles.
The flexures and angles are so many that it would be im
possible to describe them in words ; but we may state ge
nerally, that this artificial boundary extends nearly as far to
the east of the straight line joining the extreme points, as
the natural boundary along the water-shed of the hills trends
to the west. Windmill hill, on the road between Alton and
Alresford, so often alluded to, may be taken as the most
westerly point ; and the boundary of the county upon Hind-
head common, about two miles and a half north-east of
Bramshot, is the most easterly. The distance of these points
is about thirteen miles. The curve along the northern
heights from Farnham beacon to Windmill hill, is about
thirteen miles. Its position, as we remarked when treating
of the north-eastern slope— of which it forms the south boun
dary, is very indefinite ; but it does not differ greatly from a
straight line. From Windmill hill southward and eastward,
the boundary on the water-shed is more definite, as the hills
are more continuous in their masses, and more bold in their
escarpments. There is, indeed, a considerable portion of
the great downs, which traverse England from Kent to Wilts,
with only a few openings for the passages of rivers, — there
is a considerable part of them, where it is not easy to deter
mine the water-shed ; but, as Var down is conspicuous for
its elevation, it may be taken on the spot where the val
ley of the Itchen, and the eastern and southern slopes of

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 65
the county meet. Var down is about fourteen miles due
east of Winchester, five miles north-and-by-west of Peters
field, and three south-south-east of Windmill hill. It will
be convenient, however, and perhaps in better keeping with
the actual level of the country, to take the boundary a little
to the west of Var down, so as to include East Tisted, and
Privet ; and then it will pass across Tisted common, not far
from the road from Alton to Warnford ; and so, along the
heights, by Barrow hill eastward of East Meon, by Butser
hill, and Buriton down, to the termination at the boundary
of the county. Along this line the distances may be rudely
estimated at about thirteen miles ; so that the whole boun
dary along the water-shed is about twenty-six miles.
About one half of the surface within the boundaries now
described is on the chalk hills ; and the other — the lower or
eastern half, is chiefly on the green sand. Thus, it agrees
with the north-eastern slope, in being composed of two dis
tinct and very different formations, or soils, and in the sub
stratum of the heights being chalk ; but the formation in the
low grounds is very different, both in its character, and in its
geological position, and this gives a great difference to the
quality of the agricultural mould which results from the
mixture of the two ; which mixed soil is the best agricul
tural land in both districts.
The north-eastern slope has the tertiary formation — as
London clay, as gravel, or as crag, occupying the low part
of the district altogether, and overlaying or capping the
chalk, over a very considerable portion of the heights. This
eastern slope, has the green sand on the low grounds ; which
is a formation under the chalk — an earlier formation, — and
therefore never found superposed upon any part of the chalk,
either in the hollows, or capping the hills. Accordingly,
all the three soils that occur in the district, are different, in
their natural aspect and productions, and also in their eco
nomical uses, from the corresponding soils in the north
east. The chalk, from having no gravel over it, except toward
VOL. II. K

66 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
the southern slope of the county, where we again have the
tertiary formation, is bleak and bare — too poor for profitable
cultivation, at least on the lofty summits, the grass upon
which, though sweet and kindly what there is of it, is in
small quantity, very short, and unfit for the pasture of any
animals but sheep. The chalk is, no doubt, one of the ele
ments of a good soil ; and if the soil were ameliorated, there
is scarcely a spot on these downs where there is the slight
est objection to the climate. Even decayed vegetable mat
ter would do, and do well ; but the short grass would be a
very long time accumulating a quantity fit for agricultural
purposes ; and broused as it is, the quantity does not accu
mulate at all. The winds and rains, of autumn and winter,
sweep away all the crop of the year which is left by the
sheep, and so affect the soil itself, that after a severe and
protracted winter, the mere roots of grass that are left barely
tinge the high downs with green. This refuse of the scanty
vegetation, together with the loosened particles of the chalk,
are carried into the hollows, and make a better soil there ;
but this is improving the hollow at the expense of the height.
The winds from the channel being, in this part of England,
the most frequent, the most loaded with rain, and, gene
rally speaking, the most violent, the south-western slopes
of the downs are, other circumstances being the same,
the most scourged by the weather, and the northern sides,
and the slopes under them, are the most rich and green.
But, other circumstances are not always the same ; for,
when we come to the southern slope of the downs, where
the tertiary formation overlays the chalk, the finer parti
cles of that are carried to the lower slopes by the very same
wind that sweeps the hills with so much severity.
Green sand, which occupies the other extremity of the
district, is very different in its appearance and vegetation.
Those readers who are not conversant with the nomencla
ture of geology, must not be misled by the epithet green,
which is applied to this formation. The natural colour of
the earth of which this sand is composed, is white ; and it

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 67
owes its colour to some of the salts of iron, — the colour
varying with the kind of salt, and its quantity. Sometimes
there is very little iron; and sometimes there is so much
that the sand is formed into lumps, which have all the ap
pearance of ores of iron, and are exceedingly hard ; but such
ores of iron are of no use, as they would run into slag in the
furnace. Not only the sand, but the chalk, where it is nearest to
the sand, becomes consolidated into pieces hard enough for
building and paving ; and such is the case in this part of
Hampshire, where the lower part of the chalk crops out
upon the sand. In this stony portion, the line of distinc
tion between the two is often obliterated, so that one can
hardly say where the one begins and the other ends. There
is, as it were, a gradual transition from pure lime in the
chalk, to pure silica in the sand. These are found in vari
ous states of consistency in the earth ; and the decomposi
tion of them by the atmosphere has, to a great extent,
blended them with each other in the soil upon the surface ;
so that between the pure chalk of the high downs, and the
sand in its pure state, there are very many characters of
soil, each of them best adapted for a different kind of crop.
Woolmer forest, which occupies the extreme east of this
division, is as good a specimen of the green sand in a state
of nature, as the uncultivated parts of the high downs are of'
the chalk in the same. This is a royal forest, but it is now
without game, and has for ages been without trees, except
such as have been planted of late. It occupies a considera
ble extent of surface, being about six miles in length, and
two in breadth ; and producing no surface crop, save heath,
fern, and their usual accompaniments. Soil of this kind is
very apt to form a surface impenetrable to water ; and then,
soil accumulates, trees grow and run their course. When
that course is at an end, they die and fall to the ground ; then
come the fungi and the mosses to bury them ; after which the
place where they grew is converted into a pool, if there be no
outlet for the water. There are such hollows in this forest ;
k 2

68 • THE EASTERN SLOPE.
and White, the historian of Selborne, tells us that, in former
times, oaks which were as black as ebony, were dug up by
the peat-cutters. This forest might be cultivated, — it cer
tainly should be planted. This pure state of the green sand
does not form the soil of the whole extent, from the chalk
ridge on the south to that on the north ; but is interrupted
both ways, by soils of very different nature, of which we
shall speak by and by.
Low as the sandy portion of this district lies, the summit-
level of England, between the valley of the Thames and
the Channel, passes over it ; so that the one half of this
eastern slope of Hampshire leans to the one of these, and
the other half to the other.
This is pointed out by the two rivers, the Wey and the
Arun, both of which have their sources in this district. The
Wey, after flowing along the south side of the northern
chalk ridge, breaks through that ridge by the opening at
Guildford, and then makes its way to the Thames. The
Arun flows by the north side of the ridge of the South
downs, passes through an opening at Amberley, and falls
into the Channel at Little Hampton. The principal valley
of the Wey traverses the whole breadth of the district, from
Windmill hill to near Farnham; and this valley, though
beautiful, is everywhere narrow. The sources of the prin
cipal stream of the Arun, are immediately under Var down ;
and thence the course is southward to a point about a mile
to the east of Petersfield, where it takes an easterly direc
tion, and is very soon out of the county. The length of
each river within the county is about nine or ten miles.
A spur of the chalky downs, extends eastward by the
south side of the Wey, advancing much farther to the east-
ward than any other part of them, and coming in between
that river and the green sand formation. Another spur,
lying on the left of the upper or original stream of the Arun,
divides that from some of the southern branches of the Wey,
and terminates abruptly in some hills to the south of the
village of Selborne. Among these, Nore hill is one of the

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 69
most conspicuous for the boldness of its escarpment, and the
beauty of the wood with which it is, in great part, clothed.
Another spur advances on the right bank, between the main
stream and some branches of the Arun. When we speak
of these remote branches of rivers in the chalky grounds,
we must be understood as speaking of mere brooks, such as
would not be noticed in a land of rivers properly so called.
Thus, for instance, the Arun has not a course of more than
a mile and a half, when it quits the chalk hills altogether,
about a mile south-east of the village of Empshot. After
this it pursues a southerly course, receiving the various
brooks from the hills, and one or two from the Woolmer
forest side. At Stoner hill, about two miles north-west of
Petersfield, and the same distance west of the Arun, the
chalk hills assume a bolder appearance than they do in the
northern parts. They are also more continuous, curving
round by the west and south, and so passing into the long
ridge in Sussex, — in which there is no break until one comes
to that through which the Arun passes. To the south, the
west, and the north-west of Petersfield, they form a sort of
amphitheatre, not in one dull line, but in a succession of
elevations of various shapes, with beautiful ravines and dells
between, and finely clothed with wood. Butser hill, on the
west side of the Portsmouth road, is the most elevated ; and
altogether the outlines are bolder there ; but those to the
west are more beautiful. Streams of water descend the
ravines, and give additional interest ; and they are of ser
vice in turning mills. Altogether, these hills about Peters
field make finer hill-scenery than is to be met with in any
other part of the county ; and they are set off by the plain
of Petersfield, which is one of the most extensive portions
of level ground in Hampshire. The plain from the hills,
and the hills from the plain, both make fine views ; and it
depends much upon taste which one shall be preferred.
From the hills, especially Butser hill, the view is very ex
tensive, taking in the arable land, the brown heath of the
forest, the trees on the wealden-bed formation in Sussex, and

70 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
the extensive commons in Surrey, as far as the high chalk
ridge on the downs of Guildford.
The wealden-bed formation, to which we have alluded as
forming part of the land seen from one or other of the heights
about Petersfield, does not come within Hampshire, but it
approaches very near to the boundary, and may have had
some effect upon the soil of this district. It lies below both
the green sand and the chalk, both of which must have been
formed in the sea; inasmuch as they contain the shells of
many marine animals, but not a vestige of any one shell or
other animal remain at all analagous to those that are to be
found on land, or in the fresh waters. But the shells which
are met with in the wealden-beds, are all land or fresh-water
shells ; and there are also the remains of reptiles, which cer
tainly inhabited the fresh water, and most likely the land
itself. Now these must be the remains of some former and
very ancient world, which world must have been at least
three times submerged to a great depth under the sea ; for,
besides the sand and chalk there is the tertiary formation
over it ; and this must also have been formed many hundred
feet below the surface of the water. In some places it is now
nearly 800 feet above the mean level of the sea ; and, of
course, it must once have been at least as much below that
level. Considering these matters, and considering also that the
earth has been pretty nearly in its present condition for some
thousands of years, during which the surfaces of all the
strata have been exposed to the decomposing action of the
sun, and the atmosphere, and all their surfaces swept over by
the same wind, — considering these things, we must come to
the conclusion that, in the hollows where shelter, and vege
tation, and damp, all tend to arrest the driving dust, there
must be portions of all these soils blended together.
This blending is modified by many circumstances, which,
taken together, help to explain why there are so many gra
dations in the land of this district, whether we take it from
chalk to chalk, in the direction of north and south, or from

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 71
sand to chalk, in that of east and west. As the chalk over
lays, or crops out upon, the sand, and as there is a general
blending' of them at the junction, it follows that, in propor
tion as the slope from one to the other is longer in rela
tion to the height, more of the mixed soil from the decom
position must be exposed. Hence the sand is always found
nearer the bold chalk hills than to those which slope gradu
ally. In the neighbourhood of Petersfield the sand is nearer
to the high downs than it is about Alton and Selborne.
The trees are good indices to the changes of soil in such
a country as this; for they cease to grow naturally, and
are stunted when planted by art, at both the extremes.
About the middle of the series, where the admixture forms
a sort of calcareous clay, with the lime still predominating,
though the colour varies with the proportion of iron, trees
grow with most vigour ; and oak is the prevailing species.
The subsoil in these places is always the lower or indurated
beds of the chalk, with a considerable portion of sand in
minute divisions. The subsoil here, and the soil itself — in
so far as it is not vegetable or animal, is, as it were, stones
and mortar, while the chalk on the downs is mortar without
stone, and the sand in the forest stone without mortar.
This is the proper land for the hop-plant, though it is too
strong for ordinary field culture. Below this, but how far
below depends on the slope and the quantity of matter
washed down from the heights, the soil becomes too hungry
for grain; but it will still bear turnips and a few other
plants, if strengthened by manure. Such are some of the
characters of the soil on the eastern slope of Hampshire ;
and we have dwelt the more at length upon them, from the
fact that this must always remain an agricultural district.
Of the atmospheric action we shall not say much. The
south-west is the prevailing wind, and it drops the burden
of matters which it drives from the heights upon the eastern
slopes. Hence they are more richly wooded by nature, as
well as more abrupt, than those which face the south-west.
This brings a thick coating of soil, in very minute particles,

72 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
upon these slopes ; and if they are steep and loaded with
timber to the top, so that the wind takes powerful hold, and
opens the surface by shaking the trees, the rain finds entrance
but no exit ; and the portion next the indurated chalk being
reduced to a pulpy consistency, the whole is apt to slide, and
produce miniature land-slips, just as sometimes takes place
in certain kinds of the London clay, when these are thrown
up against a harder substance, or have not base enough.
From the green sand being a better conductor of heat than
the tertiary formation, and its surface being more exclusively
darkened by heath than even the sandy parts of that, also,
from the downs of pure chalk being nearer to the low ground
than at the north-east of the county, the natural action of the
atmosphere, as between hill and plain, is greater. The more
the atmosphere is subject to those gentle motions of transfer,
which hardly amount to sensible winds, the more susceptible
it is to all kinds of action; and consequently, the more
favourable it is to the growth of all useful vegetables. No
doubt this predisposes it to rain ; but the rains are not so
heavy when they do fall, or at all events they are not of such
long continuance. This again is favourable to vegetation ;
for when vegetables are hardened by much drought, or soft
ened by much rain, in the season of their most rapid growth,
their action is never of the most healthy description. The
same circumstances render the waters cold, and produce a
tendency to snow ; but we have already shown that this is
favourable rather than otherwise ; and the very same causes
which tend to produce snow in this district, when the sun
declines to the southern tropic, tend to remove them early,
when he is on his return. As much of the soil consists of
decomposed chalk with sand or clay in it, or " white malm,"
as it is locally termed, the fields and paths are apt to become
very sloppy ; but the ground is so uneven that water never
settles among the roots of the crop in such quantity as to
injure them ; and the lands which are flat enough for the
water stagnating, have generally sand enough below to form
a drainage.

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 73
Good lines of communication are the greatest deside
rata in the district. There are two great thoroughfares
from London to the south coast, — the one by Alton, and the
other by Petersfield, near the south-east. The distance by
both of them is long, however, and they are of difficult ac
cess, especially in winter, the season when good roads are
of most value in an agricultural district. From the charac
ter of the ground to the north, the west, and the south, no
canal or railway can be led through this part of Hampshire,
or brought so near to it as to be of any particular value.
The cross-roads too, are bad ; and they cannot be made
good. In the elevated parts, they are hilly ; and the hills
cannot be avoided ; neither can they be cut down to any
thing like a level. They cut fast enough, indeed ; for the
decomposable nature of the rock, which conduces not a little
to the peculiar kind of fertility which the land possesses,
makes the roads wear away, not into ruts, but en masse ; and
every shower of rain washes off the detritus ; so that, in
many places, they resemble deep drains rather than roads ;
and in heavy falls of snow, they are sealed up. In the low
grounds again, the roads are intolerable with mire ; and that
mire, whether it consist more of calcareous clay, or of sand, is
of such a nature that flints, or any other " metal," could not
be kept on the surface, without a bottom of flag-stones, and
that is an expence which cross-roads could not bear.
There are no extensive demesnes, or stately mansions, in
the district ; second rate houses are not many, and there are
very few ruins or remains of any kind. There has been fight
ing in the early times ; for there are many barrows on Peters
field heath, and some in other places ; but this tells no tale,
save the old and universal tale, that mankind have, from the
remotest antiquity, been prone to butcher each other by
wholesale, and call it glory. As the line of the road from
Alton to the valley of the Itchen, is a natural pass in the
downs, it must have been used for the route of armies, and
for other communications, from the earliest period at which
the people of the east and the west had intercourse with each
VOL. II. L

74 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
other; but still it was a place of transit only, and not one
of permanent residence.
Of market-towns there are only two, — Alton and Peters
field ; and they owe much of their importance to their favour
able situations on the two great thoroughfares, which give
them the trade of the road, in supplement to the local trade
of their several districts, and the local market for the sale of
the produce of these.
Alton is by much the larger and more populous town of
the two, though Petersfield is a parliamentary borough, and
Alton is not ; but the parliamentary district of Petersfield is
so ample, that it has more the air of a little county, than of
the mere liberty of a borough. Alton is beautifully situated,
in a rich and a very pleasant part of the county, — highly
fertile, moderately wooded, and enlivened and refreshed
by a fine stream of water, which crosses the town under
the houses and streets, and conduces not a little to the fa
cilities of cleanliness. The town is neat and clean ; and
it would be difficult to prevent the latter, as the princi
pal streets have so much slope that every shower of rain
washes them. The High-street is, of course, that along
which the London road passes ; and the length of it con
sidered as the town itself, may be about three-quarters of a
mile ; but there are straggling houses along the sides of the
road for some distance farther, especially at the London end
of the town, where they continue at intervals to the village
of Hollybourne, which is about a mile and a half east from
the centre of Alton. The street which occupies part of the
road to Odiham is but short, as the bank there soon gets
very steep. The church is situated on the left-hand in
leaving the town this way, and it occupies a very com
manding site, and forms a conspicuous object, when viewed
from the brow of the hill, to the south of the town. The
most densely inhabited part is that west of the hill, which
crosses the road opposite the church. There are many
cross streets, or rather lanes, on each side of the road-line ;
and the public market stands at some distance from the

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THE EASTERN SLOPE. 75
High-street on the north. The principal malting houses and
breweries are on the opposite or south side of the road ; and
they now carry on what may be considered as the staple
trade of the town, — both the malt and the ale of Alton be
ing in request. There are excellent hops in the neighbour
hood ; and the barley from the high ground furnishes malt
of superior flavour and quality, — far better than the more
rank-growing and larger-grained, but softer barley, which
is grown upon the clays and other low-lying and rich soils.
The hop-gardens about Alton, are all upon the Alton side
of the northern slope ; for, when the high grounds are ar
rived at, the casing of tertiary gravel and clay upon the
hills, renders the ground unfit for the cultivation of the hop.
On the south side, they extend over a wider range, being
grown on favourable spots, as far to the south as the village
of Selborne ; but much further to the south, the soil is not
adapted for them. Farnham has the name for hops, but the
growth of this part of Hants is little inferior in quality. In
„ backward seasons, they sometimes do not come to maturity ;
but they are not so liable to suffer from the east winds or
the aphis, as hops are in Kent. Alton once had manufac
tures of some of the lighter woollen fabrics ; but these have
gone the way of all the woollen manufactures of Hampshire ;
and occupations, more in accordance with the physical cha
racter and more useful productions of the surrounding dis
trict, have come in their stead. The best proof that Al
ton has not suffered by the loss of these manufactures, is
obtained from a comparison of the population in 1831 with
that in 1801. The population for 1801, was 2026 ; and that
for 1831 was 2743, which is an increase of 33| per cent.
on the first of these numbers. From the richness of the
surrounding district, Alton has a good local trade; and the
market, which is held on Saturday, is well attended. The
town is one of the polling places for the Northern Division of
the county. A number of the Society of Friends are resident
in Alton, and have been for a long period of time. No his
torical affairs of anv great moment are connected with Al-
l 2

76 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
ton ; but some of its natives have attained considerable emi
nence in literature and science.
Petersfield has the same advantage of being on a great
thoroughfare which Alton possesses ; but the situation in
which it stands is very different. The ground for some dis
tance on all sides of Petersfield, and for a long way to the
east, is much better adapted for pasturage than for tillage.
From the flatness of the surface, and the nature of the soil,
which is sand, with a slight admixture of chalk from the
downs, and of clay apparently from the wealden-bed, the
vale, or rather plain, immediately around Petersfield, yields
grass better adapted for the pasture of cattle than any other
part of Hampshire. In most places, the grass on the downs
is too short for affording adequate nourishment, while that
on the irrigated meadows is rather too rank. The Peters
field grass is a medium ; and thus the dairies there have
the character of being the best in the county for the quality
of their produce. The fields, just under the downs, have a
considerable portion of chalk, or thin soil, and grow better
corn than the flat ; but, in an agricultural point of view,
this part of the county cannot be considered as rich. The
brooks from the downs to the west, unite, and form a small
river, which flows past the south part of the town ; but the
appearance of its water is different from that of the streams
in the chalk districts, properly so called.
Petersfield was chartered as a corporate and parliamen
tary borough in the reign of Elizabeth, and it continued
to return two members till the passing of the bill for alter
ing the right of election, at which time its representation
was reduced to one member, and its parliamentary boun
daries extended, so as to include a tract of country about
eight miles in its greatest length from north to south, and
about .six miles in its greatest breadth from east to west.
In the one direction it extends from Lyss Turney, on the
north to near Clanfield on the south side of the high
downs southward ; and in the other, from the boundary
of the county on the east, to within about a mile of the

ENVIRONS OF PETERSFIELD.

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THE EASTERN SLOPE. 77
church of Privet on the west. It thus includes all the part
of the plain which is in the county, and also a considerable
portion of the downs.
A number of roads converge upon Petersfield, which
give it a metropolitan air on the map. The only town near
to it, from which there is no direct road, is Alton ; and, by
pursuing the Bishop's Waltham road about six miles out of
Alton, there is a direct road to Petersfield. The principal
street, or, at all events, the most bustling one, is that along
which the London road to Portsmouth passes ; but there is
a handsome short street which leads westward to the mar
ket-place, — a square of considerable dimensions, in which
there is an equestrian statue of William III, erected by one
of the Jolliffe family, who have long held much influence in
this borough. The church is situated on the south side of
the market-place. It is ancient, very much so, in some parts,
and has an old Norman tower, the top of which commands
an extensive view of the environs. The market is held on
Saturday, and there are fairs for horses and sheep on the
10th of July and the 1 1th of December. The population
of the town and parish was returned at 1803, in the census
of 1831. In 1801, it was 1159 ; which, if the census was
taken for the same extent in both cases, is an increase of
more than fifty per cent, in the thirty years. Mapledur-
ham, about two miles to the south of Petersfield; and on
the right-hand of the road in going to Portsmouth, was the
paternal seat, and for some time the residence, of Gibbon,
the historian of "The Decline and Fall."
We shall now turn our attention to the rivers, churches,
villages and other matters of detail in this district ; and in
doing this, it will be best to take them in three sections, in
their order; first, the valleys of the Wey and its southern
branches ; secondly, the valley of the Arun — or the Bother,
as it is sometimes called in this part of its course; and
thirdly, the places on the downs, which cannot, with pro
priety, be referred to the valley of either stream.
Taken along the straight line, the valley of the Alton

78 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
branch of the Wey, — which, although not the largest, may
be considered as the main stream, probably on account of its
being in the line of thoroughfare, and thus the best known,
— is about ten miles in length, from the boundary of the
county to the summit-level at Windmill hill. On the
north, or left bank, the slope follows the course of the
stream, but in a succession of small hills rather than in one
continuous ridge, until Alton is arrived at, and then the
stream comes from the north-west, while the trend of the
pass to the valley of the Itchen is south-west. The whole
breadth here, from the stream to the summit, does not ave
rage above two or three miles ; and though there are a few
brooks, there are none that can be considered as branches
of the river, or in any way as features of the country. On
the opposite, or south side, there are three branches which
join the stream in the first two miles below Alton ; and
these, flowing along little dells, give this bank of the
river a very pleasing aspect to a traveller passing along the
high road on the other. For the next two miles on this
side, the chalky heights, which here subside toward the
green sand, are close to the stream ; and the country slopes,
and the brooks, run the other way, and join the southern
branch of the Wey. For the last two miles within the
county, the Alder Holt forest, or copse, comes close to the
right bank. This is on the green-sand formation, though
there is a mixture of clay in it ; and this formation, in part,
crosses the bed of the Wey, and is found upon Bently green.
Between these varied banks, the little river moves slowly
along, now winding in curves through rich meadows, and
anon expanding into mill-ponds, often with swans sailing
about in snowy majesty, and making a fine contrast with
the crystal water, and the emerald meadows. This is a
miniature valley, no doubt ; but it is a very pretty minia
ture. Parish churches and villages cannot be numerous in a
district so narrow ; more especially as it does not appear to
have attracted the attention of ecclesiastics at that early

THE EASTERN SLOPE.

79

period when some other parts of Hampshire, not naturally
more rich than this, were literally sown with churches.
There are four parish churches and villages, exclusive of
the town of Alton, in this valley : — Bently, Froyle, and
Hollybourne, all on the left bank of the river, and following
in the order which we have named, from the entrance of
the county to Alton ; and about a mile above Alton, where
there is no river, we come to the church and village of
Chawton. The London road passes through the villages of Bently,
Hollybourne, and Chawton ; but Froyle lies a little to the
right in coming down. Bently is a very pleasant rural village,
consisting of a good many houses, which are not placed in a
dull and continuous line, or lines, close by the road, but
generally detached, with small gardens in front, and larger
ones interspersed. They are chiefly on the right-hand side
of the road. (When we speak of the right-hand of the road
here, we suppose the party coming down from London, and
thus it is the very opposite of the right bank of the river,
as the river runs the other way.) Bently green, or common,
lies on the left-hand between the road and the Wey, the
breadth of it being more than a quarter of a mile. This
gives the place an open and airy appearance. The church
is upon the rising ground, about half-a-mile to the right of
the high-road. The fields in this part of the country, lie well
to the sun, and are kept in fine order ; the hedge-rows are
also neatly cut, which, though it may offend the admirer of
the picturesque, is certainly far more in keeping with cul
tivated fields than those overgrown copses, which we some
times — too often indeed — meet with along the roads, keep
ing them in mire in wet weather, hiding the country from
the traveller, destroying a whole ridge of every field, and
giving an air of closeness and unwholesomeness to the whole
landscape. Hollies, and other evergreens, clipped, are cer
tainly abominations in a pleasure ground, where ornament
is the only object; but the object of all operations upon a
farm is usefulness ; and therefore use is the grand ornament

80 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
there. When one looks from a hill-top upon some ill-drained
fields below, where the water stagnates in the winter, and
the crops toward the furrows are thin and worthless, one
may find charlock supplying the blanks of the wheat in one
field, and the corn poppy doing the same in another ; and
the man of fanciful mind may imagine to himself that he
sees rivers of gold in the bright bloom of the yellow part of
the one field, and all the horrors of the lakes of gore on a
battle field, in the red destructiveness of the other; but a
genuine lover of the country and of man, who has learned
to blend sense with sentiment, will prefer the delicate green
of an unbroken wheat-field in bloom, playing like the gen
tle waves of a sea of beryl in the light winds of heaven,
assisting in nature's grand operation, and insuring beauty to
the ripened crop, and plenty to man. — Bently is a rich and
populous parish, — the rental being 4147/., and the popula
tion 720.
Froyle, the next parish, is much the same in character, in
the breadth of its surface, as Bently ; indeed, one description
may suffice for all the land on the bank below Alton. The
church and village are about two miles to the west of Bently,
and about a quarter of a mile to the right of the public road,
from which they are in part concealed by an intervening
wood. The length of the village runs along a country road,
parallel to the main road, and the church is on the road-
ward side, of the village. The population of Froyle is 777,
and the rental 4777/.
Hollybourne is nearly two miles west of Froyle; and
within a mile of Alton, to which it may be considered as
forming a sort of suburb. Part of the village lies along the
main road, and part of it along a cross-road to the right.
It occupies a less breadth of surface than, either of the two
parishes last-mentioned. The number of inhabitants is 487,
and the rental 1685/.
Chawton, about a mile west of Alton, is of considerable
extent ; but the land lies high, and there is a good deal of
woodland. The high road passes through the village,

THE EASTERN SLOPE.

81

which contains some good houses, and is altogether a plea
sant one. About the village of Chawton, the capping of
tertiary gravel comes upon the fields, and they cease to be
fit for the culture of the hop. They are bleak and cold in
winter ; and the soil is in some places thin, but it is sharp
land, and. not unfertile upon the whole. The population is
446, and the rental is 2366/. Ropley, is the next parish, in
continuation of the line of those last-mentioned; but it is
on the Itchen side of the summit, at least in a considerable
part of its extent. It is a large parish, in an elevated situ
ation, partly on the gravel-capped grounds, and partly where
the chalk appears with little or no gravelly covering over
it. The valued rent of Ropley is 3732/., and the number of
inhabitants 799. It must be understood that though we
have mentioned Ropley here, as in the line which leads from
the Alton branch of the Wey to the high downs in the cen
tre of Hampshire, yet no part of it is in the valley of any
branch of the Wey.
We shall now direct our attention to the southern branch
of the Wey, the course of which is more irregular, and con
sequently less easily traceable in such a manner as to be in
telligible. The main stream of it rises in the heights, about
a mile and a quarter to the south-east of the village of Chaw
ton, but it is there a very insignificant brook. Its -source is
nearly opposite to that of the first southern branch of the
Alton river, which branch joins the central stream about
three-quarters of a mile below Alton ; and the hill to the
westward of the junction, and immediately to the south of
Alton, is the highest, close by the Alton river, on this side.
From its source, this stream flows south-east along the
hollow, to the village of Selborne, a distance of about two
miles, in the course of which it receives some small branches
from the western slope, and one rather larger from Hartley
on the eastern, — the summit-level between the two branches
of the Wey, being a little to the north-east of Hartley. A
small branch from the southern extremity of the village of
Selborne, joins the principal one immediately to the east of
VOL. II. m

82 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
Selborne, and then the two, united, flow eastward along
hollows, termed the Liths, past the site of the priory of
Selborne, and by the church of Kingsley, and so onward
between Woolmer forest on the right, and Alder holt on
the left, until the border of the county is arrived at ; nor
does this branch join the Alton one within Hampshire; but
flows onward between the sterile surfaces of Fernsham and
other commons, with barely a green line along its banks on
some places, and at last joins the other branch after the
remarkable flexures which that makes, about three miles to
the south-east of Farnham, by the straight line, but far
more by the very curiously convoluted course of the stream.
In its course within the county, from Selborne downwards,
this branch of the Wey receives several accessions of water,
but the principal ones are from the high grounds on the
north, while these continue. In the forest — or rather the de
sert, there are few streams except seasonal ones ; or they just
mark in summer where a little inundation may be expected
in winter ; and in the hollows, such as in that between' the
White hill in Woolmer forest, and Greyshot down to the
east, there are some marshy flats, which send the water to
the Wey from the one end, and to the Arun from the other.
This part of the district has no interest, except to such as
are fond of the wailing of wild birds in the desert ; and of
these birds there are both number and variety.
Faringdon is the upper parish upon this branch of the
Wey, — indeed it is on the slope of the downs, at some dis
tance from the course of the brook. The country about is
very open, and the population chiefly resident in a large
village at the church. This village is about a mile and
three-quarters south of Chawton, and half-a-mile east of the
road which crosses the downs southward from Alton to West
Meon. The village is compactly built, with an open space
in the centre ; a street with houses on each side surrounding
this open space ; and then four short continuations, along
four country roads : two leading to the east, and two to the
west. The shape of the village resembles an irregular four-

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 83
sided fort, with bastions at the south-east, south-west, and
north-west angles. The length from south-east to north
west is about half-a-mile ; and the breadth, in the cross direc
tion, about three furlongs. It thus resembles a little town,
and is more compact in its plan than many little towns.
The church stands on the north side. The population of
the parish is 504, and the rental 2281/.
It will be convenient to take next, the parishes which lie
on the heights to the eastward of the valley in which the
south branch of the Wey makes its appearance, and which
extend, north-eastward, with, first that branch, and then the
low sandy grounds on the one side, and the Alton branch on
the other. Beginning at the border of Faringdon, there
are four of them, — Hartley, West Worldham, East World-
ham, and Binstead. While they continue on the heights,
which they do for the greater part of their extent, they con
sist of very rich land, of the white malmy consistency al
ready alluded to ; and there are good hop-gardens in many
places, while the crops of wheat upon the other portions are
very good. As one approaches the green-sand formation upon
the heights, the change of the strata from ordinary chalk
to the indurated calcareous free-stone, which is fitted for
building, may be more easily traced than in any other part
of the county.
Hartley, or Hartley Maudit, occupies the southern slope
of the heights, towards the dell at Selborne. This parish is
small, with a little church something in the style of a barn ;
but the ground is rich, and the rental bears a very high
ratio to the population, — the former being 1695/., and the
latter only 69. This is more than 24/. rent for every man,
woman, and child, and would not furnish sufficient labour
ers to do the work upon an agricultural soil of so strong a
quality as this. But some of the farmers, and many of the
labourers, reside in the adjoining village of Selborne.
West Worldham is a still smaller parish, the rental being
only 618/., and the population 96. It occupies the very
summit of the ridge ; but it is not too high for being fertile,
m 2

84 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
East Worldham is more extensive and populous : the rental
being 1790/., and the number of inhabitants 212. A part
of this parish descends the slope to the south-east, on the
brow of which the church stands, and is a conspicuous ob
ject. Below the summit, on the south-east, there is an ex
ceedingly rural village, from which there is a commanding
prospect over the low grounds, and onward to the downs in
Surrey and Sussex. The escarpment of the heights on
this side is so steep in many places, as to appear an artificial
rampart ; and, in some parts, the earth seems to have slid
away and left the face of the indurated limestone, and
some of the sand under it, quite bare. A very short distance
eastward from this height, over land of very indifferent qua
lity, brings one to the absolute sand, on which there are
some little cottages, the aspect of which is dismal.
Binstead, to the east of these, is a large and populous pa
rish, with much of the land of good quality. The church is
nearly opposite Froyle, and about a mile from the river.
There is a considerable village at the church, and also
some smaller ones in different parts of the parish. The sur
face is pleasantly diversified with hill and dale, and clumps
and copses are introduced here and there. The population
is 960, and the valued rental 5518/., which is not 2000/.
less than the rental of Alton, that being 7458/.
Returning to the upper part of the valley of this branch of
the river, at the south-east of the parish of Faringdon, we
have that of Selborne, one of the most interesting parishes
in Hampshire — or in any county. It is interesting for two
principal reasons, — first, it is very beautiful in itself, and
very varied in its beauties ; and secondly, it is identified
with its historian and describer, the late Rev. Gilbert White,
whose exquisitely simple, philosophical, and enchanting
pages, are read with delight by everybody. It is truly
refreshing, after all the marching and counter-marching
which one must practise in order to have a chance of catch
ing some of the physical and topographical features of a
county, so provokingly varied and so chipped into little

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 85
bits as Hampshire, — it is really refreshing to come to such
a place as Selborne, and by so coming conjure up the me
mory of such a man. The characters of Selborne are so
thoroughly embodied in the descriptions of White ; and the
character of White is so fully and so faithfully reflected by
all that meets one's eyes at Selborne, that the one is a per
fect artificial memory — no — a perfect natural memory, of the
other. Sir Christopher Wren, or his friends, wished so to iden
tify that celebrated architect with the cathedral of St. Paul's,
as that the one should be a constant memorial of the other.
" If you ask for his monument, look around," are the words
of the inscription. But the monument of Gilbert White is
more mighty, and more durable, than all the structures that
ever were erected by human skill. Nature there, — the earth
in all its form, and in all its composition, all that grows out
of it, all that lives upon its surface, or sports in the air, or the
sunbeam over it, — tells of Gilbert White, and tells of him in
language which cannot be mistaken. The very air breathes
of him ; and there is not a turn of the season, or a phase of
the atmosphere, which you can meet with here, without feel
ing in your heart, " this is exactly what White told us we
should meet with at Selborne." Happy Selborne ! to have
had such an historian to describe and consecrate your beau
ties : Happy White ! to have had such a subject to inspire
and exercise your delightful talent. But the grand superi
ority of this naturalist is, he sought not his monument in
his own works, but his living enjoyment in the works of
his maker.
Selborne is exactly the place for giving delight to a lover
of nature. It is quite a microcosm, — a combination of all
the soils of the district, from the pure chalk on the hill, to
the pure sand at the lower end of the valley. Lay a line
across it, from the one of those extremes of soil to the other,
and you shall meet with every imaginable appearance that
can be put on : — the top of the hill is at one place the naked
down, in the most scanty state of vegetation ; next comes the

86 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
kindly sod of the sheep-walk, with here and there a dwarfed
and gnarly tree ; then we have the thick shade of the beechen
hanger, which scarcely a ray of the sun can penetrate, even
when the bushes are stript of their leaves ; after this we have
the sloping lawn and the rich corn-fields ; anon, we have the
garden of the finest mould, rich in flowers, in vegetables,
and in fruits ; then the glade, the hop-ground, the rich mea
dow, the reedy pool, the babbling brook, the broad pasture,
the sandy barren, the nameless jumble of water and decayed
mud — the Ultima Thule of topography — nee tellus est, nee
mare. All this we have ; and all this we can conceive and
enjoy, before the minute hand of the time-keeper completes
one revolution upon the dial.
Selborne — that is the village, is situated upon a bank
which extends along the east or north-east side of an oval hill,
which hill is a continuation of the high grounds from Far
ingdon at the north-west, and sinks down into a ravine lead
ing to the upper country on the south-east ; and beyond this
ravine is Norehill. The climate and soil change at Selborne
hill, no part of the country behind it being properly adapted
for the growth of hops. The top of the hill so far as it
belongs to the parish of Selborne, is the play-ground and
common grazing and sheep-walk for the inhabitants. The
upper slope of the hill, on the Selborne side, is covered by the
hanger — a very thick natural beech-wood, which belongs to
the people for fuel, — each having the liberty of cutting more
or less, according to the extent of holding in the manor.
The street of the village is, in most places, the natural hard
stratum of the indurated chalk and sand united ; and where
there are flags, they are formed of the beds of indurated sand.
There are no rounded pebbles of flint at the junction of the
green sand, as there are at the junction of the tertiary strata
and the chalk ; for the chalk is the last deposit, and of course
there has been no violent action of the water to disturb it, as
there has been where the tertiary formation overlays it ; con
sequently, there is no pebbly gravel here for the paths.
The two branches of the Wey, which come in by the two

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 87
ends of the village, are each in a dell, between which and
the houses there is a terrace of very fine garden ground. The
church and vicarage are at the northern angle of this terrace ;
and between the church and the line of the street, there is a
little square or open place, the Plaistow, which belongs to
the inhabitants. " Stow," " stay," and " sted," all mean a
place where some one has a right to " stay ;" and the first
part of the name, "Plaistow," is simply the word "play."
To the south-east of the village, on the other side of the
southern brook, there is a swelling ground, — the Temple
farm, so called from its once having belonged to the Knights'
Templar. This place is reported to have been the marriage
portion of one of the wives of Sir Adam Gurdon, a celebrated
adventurer in the reign of Henry III ; at which time he was
a doughty plunderer for the benefit of the Mountfort family,
— and of himself. Report says, that he was as successful in
love as in marauding ; and married three or four wives, with
all of whom he received fortunes. Report farther says, that
he was a Gordon from the Scottish border; and it is well
known that the Gordons now in the north of Scotland, were
banished there for their predatory habits. " Adam a Gordon,''
is a name not unknown in old Border legend ; but whether
this was the same Adam, there are no data for ascertain
ing. At all events he appears to have followed the example
of the Saxon kings, in bestowing his worldly possessions
upon the religious establishments — when he was no longer
able to enjoy them, and was at the same time haunted by the
ghosts of his former deeds. The Temple farm is good land;
the parts of it on the slope of the dell answer well for hops,
and the eastern slope, in common with the slopes on the
opposite side of the dells, produces oak timber of good quality.
The dell, which is called the " Liths," that is, " the bends,
or flexures," leads from the village to the place on which the
priory of Selborne formerly stood. This was founded by
Rupibus, or St. Roque, a Norman adventurer at the court of
King John, who contrived to become bishop of Winchester,
and lord justice of England ; he was sent to the Holy Land to

88 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
learn piety, and on his return to England and to favour, took
the old way of founding expiatory houses for the support of
the monastic orders. But tastes change in these as well as
in laical fancies; and it became the fashion to endow col
leges ; so, William of Waynflete, bishop of Winchester, at
last procured the suppression of the priory of Selborne, and
the transfer of its property — the manor of Selborne among
the rest, to the college of St. Mary Magdalen, which he had
founded in Oxford; and the college are the proprietors of
the manor to this day. Only a random stone of the building
is now to be met with, and that in the wall of some farm
house or building. There have been some stone coffins
found, and fragments of the old stained glass, devitrified on
the surface by being buried in the ground ; and the farmer
who now rents the ground, has picked up as many of the red
Venetian or Bologna tiles, once generally used for sacerdotal
pavement, as have made a substantial floor for the summer-
house in his garden.
The site of the priory is the last subject of interest which
the visitor finds in descending the course of the stream from
Selborne toward the sandy wastes, where there is little to
attract his attention. — We had forgotten to mention in its
proper place, that the rental of Selborne was returned at
4324/., and the population at 924.
Below Selborne there are only two parishes on this branch
of the Wey, — Kingsley, and Headley ; and it is doubtful whe
ther the latter should be referred to the district of the Wey,
or to that of the Arun or Rother, as it is situated in that
marshy flat between Woolmer forest and Greystone common,
where the same marsh sends a winter stream to each river;
and none to either when the weather is dry. Both these
parishes are large, and contain a number of inhabitants, but
the land is flat, and they are places of little interest. Kings-
ley is on the verge of the wilderness, but it contains some ex
cellent farms and grazing lands. The rental of it is 2395/.,
and the population 345. Headley is in the middle of the
wilderness, and the ground on which the greater part of it

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 89
lies, is not a very desirable oasis : the population is 1228,
and the rental 3157/.
Our next business is to notice the objects of interest which
are properly referable to the valley of the Arun or Rother ;
or to the flat grounds, the streams and brooks of which
empty themselves into that river; and, as it leaves the county
by one outlet, we shall take it from its exit from the county
to its source in the declivity of the downs. The parish of
Bramshot is, indeed, a kind of exception to this ; for it lies
in the same doubtful situation between the tenantless moors
as Headley ; and it is not easy to say, whether it is on the
north or the south of the absolute summit-level. It is about
two miles and a half to the south-east of Headley ; like
that, it consists of very poor soil ; and is of great extent, with
a small rental in proportion to the number of inhabitants.
The population is 1510, and the rental 3714/. Bramshot
is a very little to the north of the great road from London,
through Guildford, to Portsmouth ; and it is within two
miles of the extreme eastern boundary of the county of
Hants. Surrey ceases to be on the east of Hants, about
two miles east-and-by-south of Bramshot, and Sussex be
gins. The first meeting of the two counties is something
like that of the tertiary strata and the chalk ; for there is
much confusion and breaking of the one into the other.
The land is certainly not so especially valuable here as to
occasion so much trouble. The general line of separation
between the two counties is as irregular and complicated as
can well be imagined. An irregular tongue of Sussex pro
jects northwards about two miles into Hants, along the east
ern side of the south, or Bridger hill end, of Woolmer fo
rest ; and, as if to make sure that the two counties shall not
separate, a small portion projects eastward near the north
end of this tongue, dove-tailing the counties together as it
were. Even this has not been deemed enough ; for, about a
mile to the south of Bramshot, and just on the south-west of
Liphook, there is an irregular patch of Sussex, about half-a-
mile long, and a quarter broad, quite detached from the rest
VOL. II. N

90 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
of that county ; and having the appearance of a peg to secure
the dove-tail. The planners of the county of Hants appear
to have been equally zealous to grapple Sussex ; for, about
two miles without the boundary of the county to the east of
Bramshot, and upon the border of Surrey near Haslemere,
a patch of Hampshire begins, and extends southward, for
about nine miles, right across the Arun or Rother, by the
eastward of Medhurst, and so onward to the foot of the
chalk ridge. This patch nowhere exceeds three-quarters of
a mile in breadth ; and in some places it is not even a fur
long. It is falchion-shaped; and if one could venture to
say as much upon so grave a subject as the division of
counties, it appears as if some Hampshire giant of the olden
time had lost his glave in the wilds of Sussex.
After this confusion, the boundary is somewhat regular ;
and after passing the sandy height of Rate down, it crosses
the river little more than a mile to the east of Petersfield.
Besides Petersfield itself and Steep, Buriton is the only pa
rish within the amphitheatre of hills, of which Petersfield
forms the centre ; and we believe that Petersfield, strictly
speaking, is only a chapelry of Buriton. The village of
Buriton is very pleasantly situated in the entrance of one
of the sloping passes that lead to the top of the down ; and
it stands upon a favourable level ; high enough for having
fresh air and a commanding prospect, but not so high as to
be bleak. There are various little villages spotted about
between Buriton and the river ; and the pleasant house and
grounds of Nursted lie midway between Buriton and Pe
tersfield, and about a mile from each. Buriton is a very
large and populous parish ; and the land, towards the slope
of the hills, is rich and arable, though, towards the river, it
passes into the grazing grounds. These are valuable, from
the permanence of the grass upon them, and also on account
of its quality, though not so much so as first-rate corn lands.
Few parishes in Hampshire have a higher rental than Buri
ton. Mitcheldever is a little higher, but the two parishes
come near to each other, both in population and in rental.

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 91
The population of Buriton is 822 ; and the rental 8229/.,
which is just about 10/. rent for each inhabitant: Mitchel
dever has 936 people, and the rental is 8334/. ; so that the
rent is not so high in proportion to the number of people as
in Buriton.
Steep lies on the other side of Petersfield from Buriton,
that is to say, on the north-west, and the church is at nearly
the same distance. About Steep, the fields are rich, con
sisting of small secondary hills, below the greater elevation
of the chalk ; and they are beautifully diversified by wood
and fine streams of water. The church stands upon an emi
nence, without any village in the immediate neighbourhood ;
and none of the villages in the parish are large. Steep mill,
on a stream which issues from an opening in the chalk hills,
is an exceedingly beautiful spot. The hills to the north are
well expressive of the name of the place, as the ascent is in
some places greater than the base which it occupies. They
are also well wooded ; and the woods are judiciously broken
by open glades, and diversified by trees of different species.
The entrance of the dell just above the mill is particularly
beautiful. Steep is a populous parish, but the rental is
much lower than that of Buriton. There are 835 people in
the parish, and the rent is 3157/., which is not much more
than one-third to each individual, as compared to Buriton.
We shall now notice the parishes which lie upon the low
grounds more immediately on the banks of the main stream
of the Arun, or rather where its course is towards the south.
There are three of them, Lyss, on the right bank of the
river, about three miles and a half north-and-by-east of
Petersfield, on the straight line ; Greatham on the left bank,
nearly two miles north-east of Lyss ; Empshott on the left
bank, about two miles north-west of Lyss, and about half-a-
mile north of the river on that part of the course which is
from the west ; and, we may add, Hawkley, opposite Emp
shott, and about a mile south of the river. All these parishes
lie, for the greater part of their surface at least, upon the
white land, though there is in them a gradual transition from
n 2

92 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
thin chalk lands, on the western elevation, to a sandy soil, on
the margin of the forest. Lyss contains 663 inhabitants,
and a rental of 2586/. Greatham is a less valuable parish,
lying near the elevated part of the forest. Its population is
238, and its rental 1052/. Empshott, which lies more among
the chalky hills, is a small parish, but valuable in proportion
to its extent. The population is 149, and the rental 721/.
Hawkley is nearly the same character of soil as Empshott ;
but the parish is of greater extent. The population is 277,
and the rental 1772/. It only remains to notice the few
parishes upon the downs, which cannot, strictly speaking,
be referred to the valley of the river, although the general
slope is to the east in all this part of the natural district, as
we have endeavoured to point out its boundaries. The first
parish is Newton, or Newton Valence, immediately behind
Selborne hill, upon the western shoulder of which the church
and parsonage are situated. This is in great part an upland
parish, but not unfertile. The rental of it is 1816/., and the
population 289. Prior s Dean, about two miles to the south
of Newton, is a very hilly parish, remarkable for the beauty
of its scenery, or at all events, for the diversity of its surface.
It lies in a dell among the high downs to the south of Var
down ; and it contains but few inhabitants. The church is
very small, and stands solitary in the dell, with the excep
tion of a single farm-steading. The population of this
parish is 166, and the rental 991/. Some of the hill-tops in
this parish are thin land, and rather exposed; but, as is
always the case in hilly countries, the slopes and dells are
proportionally rich.
East Tisted is on the high grounds about a mile to the
north-west of Var down, and on the left of the road from
Alton to the valley of the river Bere or Beer, which, east
ward of the Itchen, is the principal stream in the southern
slope of the county. The parish occupies a considerable
breadth of country, and there are many open downs and
commons ; but still the rental and population are considera
ble, — the former being 1869/., and the latter 232. Cole-

THE EASTERN SLOPE. 93
more, the church of which is rather more than a mile to the
east of East Tisted, is still more on the downs, and more
naked of timber. The number of inhabitants is 164, and the
valued rent 934/. This parish has acquired some celebrity
on account of having been the birth-place of John Groves,
Savilian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford, in the reign of
Charles II. Fr ox field, about three miles and a half to the
south of Colemore, is an extensive parish, and in general
more fertile than the two last-named. It contains a popula
tion of 618, and the rent is valued at 4269/. The last
parish which lies within the limits that we have pointed
out for this natural division of the county, is Privet, which
lies about two miles to the north-west from Froxfield. The
population is 225, and the rental 1388/. The country here
consists of an alternation of downs, cultivated fields, and
clumps of wood; rather bleak upon the whole, but in no
place absolutely barren; and about a mile north of the
church, are the mansion and grounds of Basing house,
which, however, is not so celebrated in story as its more
ancient namesake, near Basingstoke.
A few miles to the southward where Barrow hill is situ
ated, the dry downs are very narrow, compared to what they
are in many places ; for, the sources of some of the eastern
rivers are not more than two miles from those of the first
streams of the Bere. There is thus a sort of passage here,
between down and down, the same as there is at Basingstoke,
and again at Windmill hill. As we come southward, how
ever, those passes increase in steepness and difficulty. The
pass at Basingstoke admits of the passage of a railway with
very little change of gradiant ; and it would admit of a canal
if there were a supply of water at the summit. The pass at
Windmill hill admits of a road, which, though steep, is not
so much so as to be dangerous ; but precludes the possibility
of either canal or railroad. The pass at Barrow hill, which,
from stream to stream, is much the shortest of the three,
does not admit of a very easy road — of a road suited for
general traffic. There is a country road by each side of the

94 THE EASTERN SLOPE.
c
hill ; but it has been found more eligible to lay down the
line of thoroughfare from Winchester to Petersfield, upon
the downs to the north ; and thus there is no direct line from
the vale or plain of Petersfield to that of the Bere, as there
is from the valley of the Wey to the valley of the Itchen.
Indeed, the surface of the western portion of this eastern
slope of Hampshire, which lies between the two chalk
ridges, and inclines toward the green sand and the wealden-
bed of Sussex, is so irregular, that communication with it is
everywhere difficult, excepting by the roads from London by
Guildford and Farnham ; and both of these lead to Peters
field through the least valuable part of the district: for
which reason neither of them opens a ready communication
between the most valuable part of it, and any general mar
ket where its produce can be disposed of. The same may
be said of the road from Alton to the western valley across
the downs ; for that follows the western margin of the dis
trict nearly along the summit, and thus it is nowhere of easy
access to the inhabitants of the central parts of the district.
On the east it is the same ; for the roads, near the bottom of
the hills, are, from the nature of the soil, very heavy, and
impassable with a heavy load in wet weather ; neither are
there any materials at hand by which they can be made bet
ter. These are natural disadvantages of which no art can
get the better ; and they are no doubt the principal reasons
why we find so few remains of religious houses, and so very
few habitations of the wealthy, in a district of the county
where the soil is, in many places, so rich, and the scenery so
beautiful. Such are the natural features, and the natural
advantages and disadvantages, of the eastern slope of Hamp
shire.

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

95

CHAPTER IV.
THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
The natural division of Hants, of which we proceed to
give some account, is that which occupies the south-eastern
quarter of the county. It is a district of great interest, —
from its position, from the vast extent and peculiarity of its
sea-coast, from the varied character of its soil, and the diver
sified aspect of its surface ; but it is, at the same time, a
district of which it is difficult to obtain, and still more diffi
cult to communicate, anything like a general notion. Hamp
shire, taken on the whole, notwithstanding its beauty, its
fertility, the extreme healthfulness of its climate, and the
many and important historical events of which it has been
the theatre, is quite a puzzle to the topographical describer.
There are many local beauties, and some spots of much phy
sical as well as pictorial interest ; but the scene is so conti
nually shifting, that there is no breadth upon which a satis
factory generalization can be established. It is a sort of
nucleus county, it is true, — whole and central within itself;
and, although a maritime one, not a marginal, in its geological
formation, or in the inclination of its surface. It forms the
central portion of the chalk formation of England; for,
though this formation ramifies to a great extent, the grand
central mass, from which the principal number of those ridges

96 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
of chalk radiate, is in Hampshire and the adjoining part of
Wilts. As the peculiar distribution of the chalk formation must
be known before we can properly understand the natural
characters of several of the Hampshire districts ; and espe
cially of that one, the name of which we have placed at the
head of this chapter, we shall offer a few general remarks
upon it, the more especially as we have now come to the
last of those natural divisions, which lie partly on the chalk,
and pass into other formations as they approach the borders
of the county. In an earlier portion of the work, we could
not have done this, either so briefly, or in a manner so free
from technical phraseology ; because, we were not then in
possession of those points of local reference, which bring
matters of this kind more home to the reader, than cold and
theoretical disquisitions. Besides, there is evidence, in the
nature of the formations, which are superposed upon the
margins of the chalk ; and which, in some places, cap its
greatest elevations, that this same chalk has been the anvil
upon which nature has worked all the different soils of the
county of Hants, — of which soils, the southern slope of the
county offers an endless, and constantly-changing variety.
In all the ramifications of the chalk which radiate from
the central plateau in Hants and Wilts, we find that forma
tion cropping out, at least at one side of the ridge, upon an
earlier formation ; but, with the exception of the eastern
margin toward Surrey, south of the Wey, and Sussex, north
of the ridge at Buriton hanger, near Petersfield, we find the
chalk in Hampshire overlaid at its margin's end, variously
capped and covered at the tertiary formation ; and this ap
pears to have been for a long time worked upon the chalk,
by a powerful action of the water, as all the pebbles which
are found in its gravel are, almost without exception, chalk-
flints, which have been subjected to long and severe at
trition. The mean length of this great mass of chalk, from the
downs near Petersfield, to the western termination in Wilts,

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 97
is about fifty miles, of which, taking the average of the ir
regular boundaries, more than thirty miles are in Hamp
shire ; and the breadth, which, notwithstanding the zig-zag
margins, does not vary much upon the whole, may be esti
mated at about twenty miles, — so that there are within the
county about six hundred square miles of chalk formation,
which greatly exceeds the portion in any other county of
England. The ramifications of the chalk, from this central
plateau, are four in number. The longest one stretches
north-east from the western part of the plateau, nearly two
hundred miles, to the northern extremity of Norfolk. It is
irregular in its boundaries, — its breadth being more than
twenty miles in some places, and not above two or three in
others. But, along the whole of its north-western boundary,
which, including the windings, is nearly three hundred miles,
it crops out upon the green sand; and the green sand
again appears under it, in the Isle of Wight, though the
upper oolite, and various clays, are found under the steep
but narrow ridge, which turns round the sources of the
streams that discharge their waters into the harbour of
Poole, and terminates in Ballard down, about three miles and
a half south from the entrance to that harbour. The termi
nation of this narrow chalk ridge, is not more than sixteen
or seventeen miles, to the west of the Needles, which are
obviously fragments of the chalk down which traverses the
greatest length of the Isle of Wight, and which is very evi
dently a part of the same ridge with that which we have
mentioned as approaching the shore to the southward of
Poole. In the Isle of Wight, we have this ridge exposed to
the destroying action of the tides and winds ; first, from the
Needles to some distance eastward of the curiously caverned
portion at Freshwater bay ; and again, in the cliffs at Culver
near the eastern extremity of the island ; but in the midland
part, the green sand, and under that, the upper oolite, appear
as supporting the southern margin of the chalk. We will,
of course, enter into the details of the strata in the Isle of
Wight, in another volume of this work, where we shall have
VOL. n. o

98 the southern slope.
to notice that very interesting island as our principal sub
ject; but a glance at the chalk ridge in the island is im
portant to the object which we now have in view, — that of
endeavouring to ascertain what influence the grand and pre
dominating rock-formation in Hampshire has had in pro
ducing the very curious mixture of soils, which occurs at
such short distances in that part of the county which slopes
southward in the direction of the Isle of Wight.
This extreme westerly ridge of the English chalk forma
tion, though it has been worn away by the action of the
water, so as to form the opening between the part in Dor
set and the Needles, has obviously been the southern boun
dary of the whole chalk-field, chalk-basin, or whatever it
may deserve to be called ; for the strata which appear un
der it at the outward side, are of the same character as
those along the whole external line, from the extremity in
Norfolk, to the southern formation on the coast to the south
ward of Poole, while on the interior, the other formations,
rest upon the chalk. The other external margins, are on
the north side of the ridge, which extends from the plateau
in Hants to Beachy head, and which has again been as
sailed by the waters, from Beachy, head westward to a
point about midway between Brighton and Worthing, where
the chalk leaves the coast, — and the south side of the Kent
and Surrey ridge, from Hy the to the confines of Hampshire,
and so round by the eastern part of that county until it
meets the former. Throughout the whole of them the green
sand occurs as it does on the opposite side of the chalk, only
the wealden-bed and not the oolite is under it in this part.
The chalk downs which form the natural boundary on
the north to the southern slope of Hampshire, are therefore,
the northern margin of a basin or depression in the chalk,
the southern one having in great part been worn away,
though it still appears in the Isle of Wight, and in Dorset
shire. This basin, though of smaller extent, has been sub
jected to more severe action of water than the basin which
contains the valley of the Thames, and extends as far as

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 99
Norfolk, — and indeed passes through Lincoln and Yorkshire,
as far as between Flamborough head and Scarborough. The
consequence is, that both in the ridge which traverses the
Isle of Wight, and in the southern side of the Hampshire
plateau, the chalk is more broken into knolls, and intersected
by deeper ravines, or scoopings, than in most places farther
to the north. In Dorset, and all through the Isle of Wight,
the ridge is cross-cut into lengths, which do not appear to
have been severed from each other by any action that we
can attribute to presently existing causes. It is true that
there are small brooks and rills of water in most of the hol
lows which extends from those intersections of the downs ;
but they are so trifling that they could not possibly have
formed the passes through the ridges, and they do not in
general begin at the summits. The southern side of the
downs, which form the natural boundary of the district of
Hampshire which we are to examine, are full of curious
dells, often cleft a great way into the ridge, but rounded at
their terminations, and not having the least appearance of
being in any way results of the action of streams of water ;
and the rounded and elevated portions of the chalk are so
intermixed with, and almost inclosed by, the gravel and
clay of the tertiary formation, that it is difficult to frame
any general description which shall assign to each its pro
per place. The clays are most abundant, and generally
of a more tenacious quality, immediately under the chalk
heights ; and at a greater distance, where the tertiary matters
swell into heights, the summits of these are very generally
composed of light and sandy soil, which has very little
fertility. One would be inclined to suppose that this land has been
acted upon both by a sea-flood and a land-flood, after the
deposit and consolidation of the chalk. All along the south
ern edge of the downs which inclose the basin in the north,
the action of the sea-flood has been violent and long con
tinued ; as is obvious by the rounding of the pebbles. The
number of them also shows, that the action of this flood
o 2

100 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
must have been exerted for a very long time, and must have
disintegrated a vast quantity of chalk, before so very many
worn flints could have been in the gravel. It is equally
worthy of remark, that the signs of this action do not extend
up the beds of the present rivers, so as to give us cause to
believe that their valleys had existed at the time, or that
they have been produced by the same action of the water
which disintegrated the chalk and abraded and rounded the
pebbles. The action which produced these last-named ef
fects, seems to have followed nearly the outline of the di
rection of chalk; and while it left the rounded pebbles
chiefly in the vicinity of the chalk, or near the tough clays,
it seems to have borne off the sand into certain eddies, —
which the position of the chalk is such as would lead us to
conclude could have been formed by the currents of the sea,
even under that depth of water which has carried the gra
vel and other matters of the tertiary formation to the sum
mits of some very elevated portions of the chalk. One of
the most remarkable of these apparently eddy-formed de
posits is, that to the northward of the detached chalk ridge
of Portsdown, and which extends from the border of Sussex
— into that county indeed ; and, stretching a little to the
north-west, approaches within a short distance of Bishop's .
Waltham. This nearly follows the general bend of the chalk
heights, the centre of it being about three miles north of
Portsdown, and double the distance south of the succession
of high downs which project westward from Butser hill, and
terminate to the eastward of Meon Stoke, after a stretch of
about six miles eastward from Butser hill. These downs are
very bleak on the summits, and have little or no soil there
but a mere pellule of vegetable mould over the chalk, and
the flints which appear on the surface are nearly of the same
form which they have in the chalk ; and thus, cannot have
been much rolled about, or otherwise acted upon by any
continued flood of water.
From the character of these elevated portions of the downs
it is evident, that the action of the water which accumulated

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

101

in its eddies such immense quantities of gravel, sand, and
clay, as that which we have noticed to the northward of
Portsdown, cannot possibly have come from the north-east,
nor can any portion of the deposit have been derived from
the green sand. Indeed, at the places where the chalk crops
out upon the sand, there is no such apparent disturbance
of the chalk, and rolling and abrasion of its flints, as we
find where it is overlaid by the tertiary formation. Thus it
appears, that the hollows external of the chalk formation
have not been produced by the same action which has been
exerted in forming the irregularities of the interior basins
which are in the chalk itself. Indeed, upon the very elevated
portions of the chalk ridges, there is exceedingly little evi
dence of external action of any kind, further than the mere
surface-action of the weather ; and this holds true of the dis
rupted heights in the Isle of Wight and in Dorset, as well
as in those of this, the opposite boundary of the basin.
How the chalk came to remain elevated, in those streaky
and often narrow ridges in which we find it, is a problem
which perhaps none can solve ; but it is at least highly
probable, that the basins which contain matters of more
recent formation than the chalk, have been formed by a
subsiding of that, and not by a wearing away. This must
have been the result of volcanic action of some kind or other,
though there are certainly no surface evidences of such ac
tion in any of the chalk districts, or in their vicinity. Still,
we can draw from this no satisfactory conclusion of the im
possibility of such a subsidence of the chalk as would have
formed either the valley of the Thames, or this less exten
sive but more curious chalk valley, which lies between the
downs stretching from Wilts to Beachy head, and the south
ern chalk ridge in Dorset and the Isle of Wight. We know
that earthquakes, and surface volcanoes — the latter of which
cannot be very deeply seated, as much of the matter they
eject is calcined, and thus must be subjected to heat and at
mospheric air ; — we know that these can agitate the sur
face to the extent of hundreds of miles; and, therefore,

102 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
though we cannot prove the affirmative, we can as little
prove the negative, that an elevation of volcanic rock, in a
distant part of Britain, or even of Europe, may have suf
ficed to form an internal chamber in the earth, into which
the chalk stratum may have subsided, so as to form beds for
the tertiary matters which the action of the waters has sub
sequently gathered into them. If these events did occur —
and some such events there must have been, to produce those
effects which are palpable to the most ordinary observation,
then the water of the ocean may have come from a distance
to fill those hollows for a time, and choked itself with the
fragments of ruin which its own havoc may have brought
about. But, in the south of Hampshire and in the rest of what
we may term the most southerly depression of the chalk in
England, there has been an agent at work of which we have
no • such evidence in the greater and more northerly basin
which contains the valley of the Thames, and all the mari
time part of the east of England, as far as the extremity of
Norfolk. In that northern basin, there is not, excepting
what may reasonably be regarded as the alluvium gradually
accumulated by the rivers, anything which can be regarded
as a fresh-water formation, while there is such a formation
in the southern one. This formation is not a little curious
— at all events it is sufficiently so to excite a desire of infor
mation upon such an anamoly. All along the south side of
the chalk-down boundary of this basin, from Beachy head
to the most westerly point which it reaches, and also along
that portion of the same enclosing ridge, which, after curv
ing to the south, turns eastward in Dorsetshire, there is no
fresh-water formation other than the common deposit of the
rivers. But in the Isle of Wight, the whole to the northward
of the chalk is a fresh-water formation, except in so far as
that has been covered by gradual deposits from the streams.
The distance of this formation is not great, either from the
New Forest on the one hand, or from the southern slope of
Hampshire on the other ; but still, there is no continuation

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 103
of the fresh-water formation in either of them. There is
some crag in the New Forest, stretching from near Lyming
ton to the Southampton Water, and extending up as far as
Hythe ; and this answers, in great part, to the soil of the
sandy heights on the other side of the water, both to the
eastward and to the westward of the Itchen. But this is a
mere surface-bed of marine formation, something similar to
what we have mentioned as lying to the north of Portsdown,
and such beds are not rare on the tertiary formation, and
they are sometimes on the chalk. Any animal remains
which they contain, are, however, marine, and they often
have layers of shells in them, the inhabitants of which must
have lived in the sea. The accumulation of crag in the New
Forest is not only different from the fresh-water formation in
the Isle of Wight, but there is an actual interruption on the
land — a stripe of common tertiary formation between this
crag and the Solent, immediately across which the Isle of
Wight lies. This fresh-water formation in the Isle of
Wight is curious, from appearing within the one margin
only of the chalk basin, while there is not a vestige of it
near the other. It is not a formation which has been gra
dually deposited at the bottom of a lake, or any other por
tion of fresh-water in a tranquil state ; for its surface is, in
many places, exceedingly irregular ; and the layers of which
it is composed are twisted and contorted, as if they had been
brought there by water in a state of violent agitation. It has
been forced, by some means or other, against a very steep
escarpment of the chalk ; and a very fine section of their
meeting, as well as of this formation itself, can be seen at
Alum bay to the north-east of the Needles, where the action
of the sea and the weather are continnally wearing away
both the chalk on the south side of the bay, and the fresh
water formation on the east.
Whence or how this formation was brought and deposited
here, and in no other part of this basin, or indeed in any
other of the British island, so far as we are aware, it is im
possible to say and would be useless to conjecture ; but

104 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
there seems little doubt that the disintegrated particles of
this formation, with other matters brought down by the
rivers, thrown back by the eddy of the current, and not
carried round the Silsea bill, along with the drift of shingle,
contributes not a little to the fitness of some of the alluvial
soils, especially about Portsmouth, for the growth of some
species of culinary vegetables. These low grounds are
situated in what may be considered as the cess-pool for
the lighter debris of the sea-worn cliffs to the westward,
and also for whatever the waters and the land-floods may
bring down ; and it is thus highly probable that, within
the period of authenticated history, considerable and valu
able additions may have been made to the low lands. An
opinion has sometimes been started, that the channel, be
tween the mainland and the Isle of Wight here, was in for
mer times dry at low- water ; but this is not probable ; for,
on the contrary, the banks within the narrow seas appear
to be increasing, and the return bank from the east is cer
tainly approaching the entrance of Portsmouth harbour ; so
that it may in time, though of course in a very long time,
render that harbour impracticable for ships of the same bur
den as it can now admit with ease. Thus, independently
altogether of its present importance and value, the conside
ration of this mutilated fragment of a chalk basin is highly
interesting, both in a prospective and a retrospective point
of view.
There is another matter of very great interest with re
gard to this part of the coast of England, which we may
here notice very briefly, though it does not apply exclu
sively to Hampshire, and perhaps applies less to it than to
any other of the counties which abut on the channel. This
is the eastward motion of the shingle or pebbles, which is a
great annoyance along the whole line of the channel coast, at
least from Dorsetshire eastward. When the wind blows and
the swell rolls from the westward, these pebbles, which are
rounded on the beaches along which they are rolled, march
eastward, literally en masse, and though they probably

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

105

pause many tides, and also many calms, by the way, such
of them as are not stranded on the intermediate shores, then
reach Dover, and even beyond it, and thus add to the banks
which accumulate where the tides meet, very much to the
annoyance and danger of the navigation. The rounding of
these pebbles, by the agitation of the wind, and especially
¦ by the roll of the waves, and the distance to which they are
carried, throws no inconsiderable light upon the manner in
which the flint pebbles in the tertiary formation, must have
been rounded and distributed, when the chalk — probably
without any protection even from the rain by a covering of
vegetation, formed the only beaches against which the
winds and the waves beat. The pebbles which form the
present banks and beaches, and which are found to be in
many places so annoying, are certainly very numerous — far,
beyond the power of any ordinary arithmetic ; but numerous
as they are, they are not one in a million — one in many mil
lions, to those which have been separated from the disinte
grated chalk, and are now scattered through the immense
extent of the superincumbent gravel. With these ancient
pebbles of the interior, the case must have been different,
however, from what it is with the present travelling pebbles
of the Channel. The ancient pebbles must have been formed
in the places where they are now found ; or, at all events,
they have not been moved to any very great distance, for
they are mixed with sand, clay, and other matters in more
minute division; whereas, when pebbles are carried along
by a current of the water, they are washed as they roll on,
not only from sand and mud, but they are sorted, the largest
ones being carried the greatest distance. Thus, we find that,
where the sea is wearing away the land, the chalk, and sand,
and other matters which are in a state of minute division
are deposited in the nearest eddy, whether behind a project
ing point of the land, or formed by the meeting of currents
of the water, while the pebbles are carried farther to the
east, or deposited where the action of the currents of water
is more violent. The projecting points of gravel, locally
VOL. II. p

106 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE
called " hards," which are so numerous in the narrow seas
between the Isle of Wight and the mainland of Hampshire,
are formations of this kind ; and show that the action of
the current has, even in the Southampton Water above Cal-
shot castle, been once much greater than it is now.
The banks which have formed in advance of the western
entrance to the Solent at Hurst castle, must be taken in as
part of the system, in order to arrive at a proper understand
ing of what is now going on in the narrow seas of Hamp
shire, in cutting away the land at some places and forming
deposits in others. The curve of the coast, from Durlston
head south of Poole, to Hengistbury head off Christchurch,
gives a circular motion to the current, by means of which,
in part at least, the second high-water is dropped into Poole
harbour ; and, the bay of Christchurch is in great part en
closed by banks, leaving only about a mile and a half of
opening between Christchurch ledge on the west and Dol
phin bank on the south, and another opening on the east,
not half-a-mile from bank to bank, between the shingly
beach, upon the extremity of which Hurst castle is erected,
and the Shingles, which extend nearly three miles from this
opening south-westward, until they almost join the Dol
phin. The three banks just mentioned combine with the form
of the shore, and with the resistance offered by the Isle of
Wight immediately to the eastward, in giving a very pecu
liar motion to the tidal currents in this part of the channel ;
and as this has a considerable influence upon the action of
the water in the narrow seas between the island and the
mainland, it may not be improper to take some notice of it
here. Before doing this, however, it may be as well to
mention that, between the bill of Portland and Dover — a
distance of about one hundred and sixty miles, there are
six hours difference of tide ; or, in other words, the height of
the tidal wave in the mid-channel is very nearly upon the
one of these places, when, the depth of the trough of low-
water is upon the other. The difference of elevation between

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

107

these, occasions a slope, varying according to the position of
the moon and the state of the weather. The elevation-end
of this slope is alternately at the bill of Portland, and at
Dover ; and thus, the tides, that is, the ridges of high-wa
ter travel eastward, in mid-channel, at the rate of thirty
miles an hour ; yet there is an alternation of sufficient slope
eastward and westward, for enabling vessels to slide upon
the inclined plane with the turn of the tides ; and not only
this, but there is a dropping or actual transfer of the water
westward with the ebb, especially where there are obstacles
presented by the jutting inequalities of the shore ; and this
transfer of the water is the main cause of the return tides,
and also of the banks which form in advance of those points
which project south-eastward, and also in many parts of
the narrow seas.
In the open Channel there are no banks, at least none
which rise so near to the surface as those in the North Sea ;
because, though a portion of the tide near the shores is
dropped in the manner which we have endeavoured to ex
plain, there is only one main tide in the Channel, and thus
there is not the same stagnation and eddy produced by op
posite movements of the water, as there are in the North
Sea, where the tide sets southward on the British coast, and
northward on that of the continent. But in the land-locked
and embayed places, the dropped part of the tide runs coun
ter to the portion more seaward ; and thus, though upon a
smaller scale, there is the same kind of deposit as we meet
with between the east of England and the continent.
It is the same shortness of distance between high and low-
water in the Channel, which renders the exposed parts of
the Channel coast so very dangerous to shipping. At the
bill of Selsea, for example, there are two hours tide between
that point and the parallel of the southern point of the Isle
of Wight, although the absolute distance off the shore is
only from ten to twenty miles, according to circumstances.
This continues as far eastward as Beachy head ; and, there
fore, there is a very considerable slope shoreward, which
p 2

108 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
renders it very dangerous to approach the land, especially
when the wind is at south ; though the very same circum
stance facilitates the arrival and departure of vessels, to
and from the grand anchorage at Spithead, the harbour
of Portsmouth, and all other places of safety or resort for
shipping, in those narrow seas which are protected by the
Isle of Wight.
We may now return to the oval basin forming the bay of
Christchurch, and having the gravelly soil of the mainland
on the north, and the banks, which we have already named,
on the south. Christchurch ledge extends about three miles
south-eastward, and varies in breadth from a mile to a quar
ter of a mile, with not more than three fathoms water in
some places. It has obviously been produced by the drift
of shingle eastward along the southern side, and the re-ac
tion of the dropped portion of the tidal current upon the
north, which has transferred to this place some of the peb
bles, and other matters of the disintegrated shore, upon
which the- sea makes continual inroads, from the entrance
of Christchurch to Hurst castle. The bank extends across
the embouchure of the united waters of the Avon and the
Stour, and forms an embankment on each side of the imme
diate entrance to the harbour. That harbour is much
choked up by deposits ; but a small channel is kept open by
the discharge of the river-water, which, as it is partially
dammed up in the basin of the harbour, acts against the
dropped tide, much in the same way as that tide acts against
the main tide in the Channel in forming Christchurch ledge.
The deep curve of the western part of the bay, from
the mainland to the ledge, turns the same dropped tide
against the main tide,' especially that portion of it which
sets north-eastward from the Needles to Hurst castle, and
which acts with such violence in wearing away the land
there. The Dolphin appears to be almost exclusively a tidal
bank. It is three miles long from east to west, but not
above a quarter of a mile in average breadth, though on
some parts of it the water shallows to between two and

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 109
three fathoms. It offers but little obstruction to the east
ward current, because the length lies in the direction of that
current ; but it has very considerable influence in producing
the violent action of the water upon the adjacent part of the
Isle of Wight. It prevents the main current from spread
ing northward, and thus the water runs with far greater
velocity along the Isle of Wight shore, than it does along
the mainland shore ; and hence, even after the action of the
water ceases to wear the land, there is no bank of any con
sequence upon the Isle of Wight shore to the westward of
Cowes. The third bank, the Shingles, is about two miles
and a half in length, in the form of an irregular triangle,
about a mile in breadth opposite the point at which Hurst
castle stands, and terminating in a point southward, very
near to the eastern extremity of the Dolphin. Indeed, the
two may be considered as one bank, which shifts its posi
tion with the state of the weather. The Shingle's portion is
the most variable part of it ; and the action upon it is so
strong, that the pebbles of which it is composed are piled
up so as to be above the high-water level ; but the portion
so piled changes very much both in its extent and its ele
vation. At the south and the east of the Shingles, there are
some rocks which may have in part aided in the formar
tion of that bank, but still its existence is mainly owing
to the greater velocity of the water on the Isle of Wight
side than on that of the mainland. That a bank may, to
some extent, be formed, even when the current sets with
violence, and when there is a divergence and parting ra
ther than the confluence of one current with another, is
proved by the fact that there is a rudimental bank, not only
between the rocks of the Needles, but in advance of them,
about a mile from the land, and to within about the same
distance of the south end of the Shingles. The materials
of which these banks are formed, have been brought chiefly
from the westward ; and they are obviously dropped por
tions of the grand drift which accumulates in so many places

110 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
to the westward, and which is so especially abundant about
Dover. No part of the projecting " hard," or causeway, upon which
Hurst castle is built, has come from the east by the return
tide ; for all behind the castle — that is to the eastward of
it, the banks are mud ; while, on the opposite side, the coast
of the island is strewed with its own ruins. This point is,
therefore, a natural barrier to the eastward motion of the
pebbles, though its advance into the channel between, must
be, in part, promoted by the Shingles. The beach here is
advancing into the water at a pretty rapid rate, though the
additions are by no means regular, neither is there any pro
bability that it shall ever make such advances as to form a
mole across the Solent to the island. The current upon
the other shore is too powerful for admitting of this ; but
there has been an obvious diminution of the action of the
water on all the western and northern shores of the narrow
seas, until one comes as far eastward as that the stronger
current, through the channel by the Needles, acts upon
them. Along the shores of the Southampton Water there
are many " hards," or projecting points, of more compost
materials than are to be found on either side of them ; but
instead of any such being in progress at the present time,
there is very little transfer even of the silt and mud.
The advance of the causeway at Hurst castle farther into
the sea, and probably also the increase of the shingle, which
appears to keep pace with it, have, within the course of the
last century, produced considerable alterations in the action
of the water upon the shores within the Solent. Calshot
castle, at the southern entrance of the Southampton Water,
was originally built on an island, and remained insulated till
the early part of the eighteenth century, since which time it
has been united to the land, first by an accumulation of gra
velly matter, and now there is an accumulation of mud on
both sides. At the time when the gravel was accumulating
there must have been a considerable set of the current against
this part of the shore ; and this set must have diminished

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. HI
before the silt and mud could accumulate on both sides ; so
that, from Hurst castle eastward there is now little action of
the water upon any part of the mainland of Hampshire ;
the changes which take place are only deposits of materials
brought by the water ; and, until one comes to Portsmouth,
these are very slow in their progress, and steady in their
positions. The bank which abuts upon the tidal beach to
the eastward of Calshot, extends in a triangular form a good
way into the Channel, and the middle of it forms a sort of
low ridge, upon some parts of which there is only half a
fathom depth. Opposite to Calshot the bank on the northern
side also extends a considerable way, about a mile from the
high- water mark in some places, and this is also the greatest
breadth of the Calshot bank directly parallel to the former.
On this bank there is not more than a fathom and a half
of water in some places, and in general there are only two.
The clear channel opposite Calshot, where it is narrowest, is
about half-armile across. The north bank extends nearly
eight miles froni westward to eastward, terminating or rather
becoming very narrow opposite Fort Monkton. At the point
where the coast trends north-eastward to Blockhouse fort,
at the western entrance of Portsmouth harbour, and between
these — the distance between them is about two miles, the
bank known by the name of the Spit, extends south-eastward
at least a mile and a quarter from the land. The depth
of water from the shore, on the middle of the bank, shoals
outward, from a foot to two fathoms, and this extends nearly
a mile and a half, beyond which there is still a continuation
of the bank, the depth of water upon which varies from
three fathoms to four. The roadstead or anchorage of Spit-
head lies immediately to the south-west of the Spit, and
there there is a depth of water varying from five to fifteen
fathoms. From the extremity of the Spit to Ryde sand on
the opposite side, there are about two miles of this deep
anchorage. While the entrance on the south-east, between
Ryde sand and the shifting sand-bank of the Dean, which
extends off the coast, from the entrance of Portsmouth har-

112 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
bour eastward, and stretches at least three miles into the
sea, from the entrance of Langstone harbour, is not above
one mile across, and the edges of it, and of the bank on the
Isle of Wight shore, have not more than a fathom and a
half or two fathoms of water. These banks restrain the vio
lence of the current, and also of the ground-swell which
rolls round the eastern coast of the Isle of Wight, and by
this means contribute to the tranquillity and safety of the
Spithead anchorage. The eastern bank, or bank of shifting
sand, which consists in great part of disintegrated matters
from the tertiary and fresh-water formations of the Isle of
Wight, though it chokes up the entrance to Langstone har
bour and also to that of Chichester, is a considerable protec
tion to the harbour of Portsmouth, by preventing the circu
lar current, which would return strongly upon it from the
curved shore westward of the bill of Selsea, were it not for
the comparatively small depth of water upon this intervening
bank. Indeed, it is the contention between this current,
w7hich, setting round the Isle of Wight, as has been men
tioned, is turned by the western side of Selsea bill, and the
current which comes by the Needles, and along the deep
channel on the north side of the Isle of Wight, that the
bank in question keeps so continually shifting. Both cur
rents, where they sweep along the shore in their strength,
carry the shingle eastward ; but as the current from round
the east of the island is a dropped portion of the general
current, and that which comes by the Needles is weakened
by the expansion after clearing the narrow passage at Hurst
castle, both of them bring sand, rather than gravel to the
bank which lies between Portsmouth and the bill of Selsea,
and also to the banks on the north-east of the Isle of
Wight. The banks which we have now mentioned, prevent any
farther inroad of the sea upon the south coast of Hampshire
eastward of Hurst castle, or upon the eastern part of the
north coast of the Isle of Wight. On the contrary, the sea
is in a state of recession, and the navigable parts of the

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

113

creeks are advancing more to seaward; so that, with no
very great expense of embankment, more breadth of land
might be gained to the county within the narrow seas, than
there is lost on the shore to the westward of Hurst castle,
and on the west and back of the Isle of Wight. The land
which is accumulating, and which might be added to the
productive surface of the county, would also, if reclaimed,
be of better quality, and far more appropriate, either for the
plough or for pasturage, than that which the sea is wearing
away. With proper management, there would also be a
much greater breadth of it. It is, for very obvious physical
reasons, always upon the high cliffs or bold shores that the
sea commits its depredations ; and, allowing for the pebbles
which, in the Channel, are carried progressively eastward,
one acre of the high cliff would, upon shores so shallow, as
many of those- in question are, afford ten acres of salt-marsh,
fit for the pasturage of cattle. Whether the quality of what
land might be acquired by embanking the mud-beaches on
these parts of the coast of Hampshire would equal Romney
marsh in fertility may be doubted, but there are at least
some of the elements of a fertile soil, and the climate is
certainly better than that to the eastward of Beachy head.
There is, indeed, one obstacle to the improvement of
those beaches : there would be little advantage obtained
from " warping," which is found so advantageous upon the
floodable lands along the estuaries of the midland rivers.
From the quantity of lime in the tidal beaches, there is not
the same abundance of small marine animals as in the mid
land estuaries ; and, partly from the nature of the soil,
partly from the filtration of the river water through the
grass of the irrigated meadows, that water runs much more
limpid to the sea than in any other part of the kingdom.
These obstacles might all be got the better of, however,
— at least to a very considerable extent ; and thus, the
embankment of some portions of the shallow beaches in
this part of Hampshire may probably be accounted among
' the most valuable improvements, upon a large scale, of which
VOL. II. Q

114 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
the district is susceptible. We have an encouragement to
this in what has been done by nature herself on some parts
of the coast, especially in the island of Portsea. That island
has been, in great part at least, recovered by the action of
nature, with very little assistance of human art ; and the
products of it, especially some of the more choice kinds of
culinary vegetables, are unrivalled by those of any other
part of the kingdom.
Whether it would be altogether judicious to embank any
considerable breadth of such a place as Portsmouth harbour,
or such of that as is rendered very shallow by mud and silt,
is a question that would admit of discussion, as there are
many arguments that might be plausibly adduced on both
sides of it. There is no doubt that the ebb, setting out of
the harbour, comes in contact with the progressive current,
or tidal wave along the shore, and thus tends to form a natu
ral embankment between the inland basin and the sea ; and
that this embankment has a tendency to approach on both
sides and form" a bar, in the same manner as a bar is formed
at the seaward end of all the narrow estuaries on the east
coast ; and there is probably, at least in the present state of
the waters in the narrow seas of this part of Hampshire, a
greater power at work for the formation of bars, than there
is in the estuaries on the east coast, with the exception of
such of these as have extensive beaches of sand or gravel to
the north — the direction from which the tidal wave comes ;
as is the case at the mouths of the Dee, the Esk, the Tay,
and the Tyne. The bank to the eastward of the entrance
of Portsmouth harbour is shifting sand, and much sand must
also be carried eastward, from that part of the fresh-water
formation portion of the Isle of Wight which is now in the
progress of demolition. There is thus, danger that both the
flood and the ebb would tend to form a bar across the
entrance of Portsmouth harbour, w7hich bar would very soon
obstruct the passage of vessels requiring much draught of
water, if the dimensions of the harbour — which acts as a
scouring basin, were to be much diminished. Even with

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 115
the present extent of the harbour, which is very large as
compared with the width of the entrance, there is a bar at
Portsmouth, extending obliquely north-eastward; in the en
trance from about the middle of the Spit, quite across, not
to the opposite bank, but in the direction of the southern
part of the town ; and upon this bar there are only two
fathoms at low-water now, while outward, between the Spit
and the eastern bank, there are from eleven to four ; and
within, there are not less than four in any place, until the
channels are ascended to above Portsea town. In a future
chapter, or section of a chapter, we shall have to give a more
minute account of the great natural harbour of Portsmouth;
but this much is necessary in considering the general action
of the sea upon that part of the Hampshire coast of which
Portsmouth is now one of the most interesting spots. It has
been asserted, by those who are intimately acquainted with
them atter, that the bar across the entrance to Portsmouth
harbour is increasing, so that first-rate ships have now to be
relieved of the weight of their guns before they can enter
or leave the harbour. This is an important fact ; and it
becomes the more so, when we look at the harbours to the
eastward, Langstone and Chichester. These are both of as
ample dimensions as Portsmouth harbour, and the entrances
to them are as narrow, so that the efficiency of the ebb-tide in
scouring their entrances should be as great. This, however,
is not the case ; and that it is not, is evidently owing to the
bank, which, with variable, but always considerable breadth,
abuts upon the shore the whole way from Portsmouth to
Selsea bill; and there appears to be considerable danger
that this bank may, in time, advance so far to the westward
as to place the harbour of Portsmouth in the same condition
as those of Langstone and Chichester. Should this be the
case, the present harbour must be silted up ; and then the
only good harbour which will be left on the mainland side
of the narrow seas, will be that of Southampton, which
appears to be safe from any invasion of this sand-bank; nei
ther is there much danger that the deposit of chalky and
Q 2

116 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
gravelly matters, which now forms the banks in the South
ampton Water, will increase much, at least for a long time
to come.
The way in which the different deposits in the narrow
seas upon this part of the Hampshire coast are formed, is a
matter well worthy of minute investigation ; but it is a mat
ter involving some difficulties, and one upon which the limits
within which we are confined will not allow us fully to enter.
We may, however, very briefly notice the several places and
states of the water, where and by which the different parts
of the disintegrated sand are deposited, as this will form a
basis of investigation to those who feel disposed to enter into
a more minute enquiry than we can afford upon this highly
interesting branch of what may be called " progressive Geo
logy." The pebbles, whether they come from the disintegra
tion of the Isle of Wight and of the mainland coast of Hants
to the westward of Hurst castle, or from places still farther
to the west, are borne along by the force and violence of the
current acting upon the beach or bottom along which the
said pebbles are rolled. No pebble of any size, of whatever
kind of rock it may be composed, can be suspended in the
water, so as to be moved by that, without assistance from the
beach or the bottom as a fulcrum or point d'appui. There
fore the pebbles, or the shingle as their aggregate is called,
invariable move eastward with the main set of the tidal wave
and the prevailing current of the wind ; and although they
are piled up against the western sides of the jutting points,
and against those parts of the shore to which the tide sets
directly inwards, yet they are never brought back again to
the west, even by those eddies into which the dropped or
second high-water tide sets with the greatest force. Thus,
wherever the pebbles accumulate, we may be sure that the
main or eastward current of the tidal wave sets against the
shore with the greatest force; and that, therefore, the shingly
beaches, which are thus formed, are places of great danger to
shipping. Their march along the shore is often very pecu
liar. They do not obey the motion of the water, as if they

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

117

were floatable things that could be borne upon the current ;
but, on the contrary, they always move per saltum, or by leaps
of some length or other. They make their way eastward
by traverses, that is, they are dashed toward the land at
short lengths, and again borne seaward by the retreat of the
wave, only both of these parts of the step are performed in
oblique lines, so that the pebble gets farther to the eastward
every time that it approaches the land. Where the tidal
wave sweeps directly along-shore, they are not allowed to
rest, or even to make their appearance on the beach; but
they have a tendency to accumulate on the windward sides
of projecting points, and to form ridges, behind which, that
is, between them and the land, there are often hollows, as
may be seen at Chesil bank, at Freshwater bay, at New
Shoreham, at Dover, and at various other places.
Freshwater bay affords, within a very short distance, a
good illustration of the wearing away of the bold cliffs, and
the accumulation of shingle in the low shores of the ex
posed bay. The shingly pebbles are the materials which
assist the breaking surges in battering the cliffs ; but they
do not rest at the places where they perform this labour.
Where they remain permanently, there must always be some
confluence of the currents of the water, — an opposing action
to that which brings them, and not the merely passive re
sistance of the land ; and if one examine the Channel shores
with attention, and at the same time bear in mind Jhe gene
ral direction of the currents, one can, with tolerable cer
tainty, lay one's finger upon those parts of the line on the
map at which the shingle accumulates. Dover may at first
sight appear an anamoly, as the trend of the shore there,
more resembles the bays where sand accumulates, than the
places where shingle piles up. But the opposition made by
the tide from the north, occasions a confluence of currents
at Dover, of the same kind as that which throws up the
shingle-banks farther to the westward, only it is more power
ful ; and, in consequence of this, the accumulation is more
abundant, and the pebbles more constantly in motion. When

118 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
the South Foreland is passed, and the north tide begins to
be the prevailing one, the pebbles begin to be mixed with
more and more of sand, and soon pass into beaches wholly
of that material, and having a much longer escarpment, for
the same height of bank, than the loose and rolling shingle.
Sand may be considered as an accumulation of smaller
pebbles, which have just as little adhesion to each other as
the larger pebbles of the shingle. They are more floatable
than the large pebbles, but less so than the particles of chalk,
and clay, and mud, any of which forms an adhesive paste
with water ; and therefore the accumulations of sand are
formed in places intermediate between the shingly beaches
and the muddy banks — places where there is less action of
the water than where the former are piled up, and more
than where the latter are accumulated. But, before we refer
to the points of sandy deposit, it may not be amiss to hint at
the mechanical cause why matters, which are all very nearly
of the same specific gravity, should be deposited in places
where the action of the water is so different; and we do
this the more readily, that it is a subject which, though
very interesting to all who examine and study the shores,
whether for information or for purposes of practical utility,
is not often stated. From the law of surface action, it is the
fact of its surface being wettable, which enables the water
to bring to shore a substance specifically heavier than the
water itself. Hence, the power of the water to move a
pebble, a grain of sand, a particle of chalk, or clay, or any
other substance, is always in proportion to the surface of
that substance. This is the motive force, or the force which
carries the substance along. The antagonist force, or that
which causes the substance to be dropped or deposited, is
the weight of the substance itself; and therefore, the ten
dency of the substance to separate from the water, by re
sisting and overcoming the motion of the water, must be
the ratio which the weight bears to the surface. Now, sup
pose two substances of the same shape and specific gravity,
the weight will bear a greater proportion to the surface in

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 119
the larger one than in the smaller ; for the surfaces increase
only as the squares of the same dimension, while the masses,
and consequently also the weights, increase as the cubes.
Thus, if there are three portions of the same kind of stone,
no matter what kind it is, the one with a diameter of 2,
the second with 4, and the third with 8, the power of the
water to move these will be expressed by the squares of the
diameters, that is, by 4, 16, and 64, while the resistance to
being moved will be expressed by the cubes of the same,
that is, by 16, 64, and 512. But though these are the ra
tios, yet the differences, after the tendencies to be carried
are subtracted, are the real inertias by which the portions
of matter are actually stopped. If 4, 16, and 64, are re
spectively subtracted from 16, 64, and 512, the remainders
are 12, 48, and 448 ; or, dividing each of these numbers by
4, which does not alter the proportion, the results are 3, 12,
and 112. Therefore, the tendencies of pebbles, sand, and
other matters to separate from water, and remain at rest at
the bottom, increase as the difference of the cubes and the
squares of their lineal dimensions ; and, consequently, the
forces necessary to move them must also be in the same
ratio. Thus, for instance, if a grain of sand is one-tenth of
an inch in diameter, and a pebble four inches, it will take
62,400 times as much force of the water to move the pebble,
as to move the grain of sand. But the finer particles of
chalk and clay, which are formed out of the disintegrated
cliffs on the coast of the Channel, are probably not more than
one-hundredth part of an inch in diameter ; and, therefore,
each of them can be floated and moved by a very small
fraction of the force, or current of the water, which is re
quired to move a pebble four inches in diameter, or only one-
nine-hundredth part of that which is necessary to float and
move the particle of sand.
The truth of this principle is as obvious as the principle
itself is simple ; and it serves at once to explain why we
find the pebbles of shingle, the grains of sand, and the par
ticles of chalk, clay, and other matters usually expressed by

120 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
the general term " mud," deposited in so many different situ
ations, and often so far from each other, upon the Channel
shores, even when, in all probability, the whole of them have
been derived from the simultaneous destruction of the same
identical cliff. The shingle, which requires a force of the wa
ter so much more powerful than either of the others, passes
behind the Isle of Wight; or the portions of it which are
disintegrated from the cliffs between the Needles and Cliff's
end point, are strewn along the bottom immediately to the
eastward, in angular fragments, which evince no severe action
of the water. The sands are accumulated partially in San-
down bay, between Dunnose and Culver cliff, but in greater
portion in the great sand-bank that lies to the eastward of
the entrance to Portsmouth harbour ; and from this, eastward,
there is little resting place for sand, until it gets northward
of the South Foreland. The lighter matters are thrown
into the places of more gentle current, and the deposits of
them are brought by the return-current westward, which
never moves the pebbles, and rarely, if ever, the sand, un
less it is a portion of the eastward current, which has been
returned by the peculiar trend of the line of coast.
These different tendencies of the three leading descrip
tions of the disintegrated cliffs to move to different localities,
in the ratios of their masses, afford us a foundation by which
we are in so far enabled to judge of what shall be the fu
ture progress of the banks and obstacles to navigation at
the places where they accumulate. At Dover, where the
shingle is carried in such quantity, there can be no perma
nent entrance to the harbour, by any projecting piers, the
construction of which is within the range of ordinary ex
pense ; and, in consequence of this, the navigation there will
become gradually more and more hazardous. It is probable
also, that the bar at Portsmouth will continue increasing
from additional deposits on the Spit to the west, and the
sand-bank to the east; and it is not easy to see how this
can be obviated, except by very inefficient means. To the
westward of Portsmouth, in the Southampton Water, and in

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 121
the Solent, there is little to be apprehended from sand-banks,
or from bars across the main channels, though experience
shows that accumulations will continue to be gathered, both
upon the shores and upon the banks, where the slack water
is formed by the currents of tide, to and from the Southamp
ton Water, meeting those along the coast of the Isle of
Wight. Still, however, there is obviously enough of fresh
water brought into the Southampton Water by the Test and
the Itchen, even in their ordinary states, to keep the ship-
channel clear, and to prevent any considerable shallowing of
the anchorage off Southampton. Of river deposit in this part
of the narrow seas there may now be said to be none ; for,
as has been already hinted, the waters of both the rivers,
and of every branch, and almost every brook that empties
itself into them, pass through a continuous filter of grass,
from the very remotest point of which a small speck of wa
ter-meadow can be obtained. Thus, whether during the
dry season, or during rains, both of these rivers run trans
parent to the sea ; and do not carry down as much earthy
matter in twelve months, as some brooks, in districts of
other formation and different management, do in a single
flood. Nor is this all ; for the water-meadows, over which
the waters are led in so many mains and trenches, and so
frequently spread out in breadth, have all the effect which
regulating lakes produce upon the floods that pass through
them. This effect, in keeping the lower river comparatively
pure, and uniform in its depth of water, is very striking, as
may be seen in many parts of the Scotch Highlands, where
the brawling streams, which discharge their waters into a
large lake, may be seen bringing down hill-sides of sand
and gravel during every fall of rain, which falls are, in
some parts of the Highlands, very heavy and very frequent,
and foaming and chafing, and overturning trees, rending
away rocks, rolling vast masses of stone along, and burying
the meadow in the spoils of the mountain ; meanwhile the
river which flows from the lake is as pure in its water, and
as gentle in its current, with as little perceptible increase
VOL. II. R

122 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
of its volume, as though no drop of rain had fallen, -and no
disruption of the soil had taken place in the upper country.
The w7ater-meadows, over which the brooks and rivers of
southern Hampshire are distributed in breadth, perform this
office even more completely than it could be performed by
any lake, or indeed by any succession of lakes. Lakes do not
act as filters, they merely give the water pause, so that it
may precipitate the earthy matters with which it is charged ;
and, even when the lake is of sufficient magnitude to allow
of a complete precipitation, it does not prevent the water-
flood from robbing the land, by transferring the lighter and
more fertile particles of it into the lake, where they are a
long time before forming a bank large and compact enough
for being of any service. The water-meadows, on the other
hand, turn the river into a lake, in all its ramifications,
while the herbage on them lays hold of every particle of
light and fertile matter which the brooks and rain-streams
bring in, and do not allow one square foot to be spoiled by
gravel, or even a single pebble to be rolled.
Thus, while this method of turning the water to account
on the meadows, converts these into the most productive and
valuable spots in the whole county, it equally secures the
channels from being choked up by alluvial matters, and the
land from being wasted by the transfer of its most valuable
particles to the sea. They who projected, — who carried into
execution, the very ingenious and rather costly systems of
mains and branches by which the irrigation is obtained, had
of course no object in view, save their own profit, in the
construction of these works. But this is one of the many in
stances in which men, by pursuing their own interest in the
best and most skilful manner, equally promote the benefit
of others, and do far more good than they intend. If the
rivers had been left in single channels and without the
grassy surface of those meadows, there is no doubt they
would have produced the same havoc along their courses,
and carried the same burdens of matter, to be thrown back
by the sea in bars at their mouths, as is done by other ri-

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 123
vers which flow in similar valleys, and along single chan
nels, and without any meadows to retard or filter the water.
The Itchen, taken on its natural level, is by no means a
slow running river ; and any one who examines the shape
of its banks will readily perceive that, at some former pe
riod, it has shifted its channel, cutting first in one place and
then in another, and rolling considerable quantities of gravel
to the sea. The Test is even more rapid, and were its waters
to flow in a natural channel of their own formation, or rather
had they always so flown, there is no question that its floods
would have lorded it over- the whole bottom of the valley,
and rendered that unavailing for any useful purpose either
of tillage or of pasture. In many other parts of Britain,
we find rivers, flowing along valleys similarly formed to
that of the Test, and not receiving the rains of a greater
breadth of surface, which are yet, always when a flood
comes, demolishing the banks at one place, scattering the
gravel over another, and washing away to the sea, all the
matters really conducive to fertility. Nor is this all ; for,
during the rains of autumn, those rivers get so swollen by
the floods, that they bear away the produce of the meadows,
and but too frequently, the cattle, the habitations, and even
the people. The water-meadows prevent all these disasters,
add greatly to the wealth and prosperity of the districts in
which they exist, and at the same time conserve the water
for the purposes of navigation.
These considerations of the water-meadows are absolutely
necessary to a right appreciation of those circumstances
upon which the permanence of the Southampton navigation
depends. They establish the fact, that there is little or no
silting up of any one place to be apprehended from any ac
tion of the land-floods ; but that all the deposit which is left
anywhere within Calshot castle must be brought by the in
flux of the tidal water ; and, where there is only a single
action of the water, — a single current bringing a load of mat
ter, whatever may be deposited on the shores, there is never
any tendency to form a bar in the mid-channel. The banks
r 2

124 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
which lie to the eastward of Calshot, do not militate against
this, because, at the places where they are deposited, there
is the same conflict of currents, — the one checking the mo
tion of the other, as there is where the Godwin sands are
formed off the Downs, and the various banks are dropped in
the great tidal eddies of the British ocean.
Such are a few of the circumstances connected with the
action of the waters within the narrow seas of Hampshire,
and with the only anticipation which we can philosophically
have, of what shall be the future state of those seas. The
destruction of the land exposed to the main current is pro
bably as great now as it has been at any former period;
and thus, as the banks in advance of Selsea bill, and be
tween it and the entrance to Portsmouth, continue to in
crease, they may invade the entrance to Portsmouth har
bour, just as they have already invaded the entrances to the
harbours of Chichester and Langston ; but still, there is
not the least apprehension that, except in the case of some
grand and unlooked for convulsion of nature, the narrow
seas, between the mainland and the Isle of Wight, will ever
be without a safe and commodious harbour.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERS.

125

CHAPTER V.
PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
Having devoted the principal part of the chapter immedi
ately preceding to the relations between sea and land on the
southern parts of Hampshire and some of the adjoining
coasts, we deem it more conducive, both to method and to
clearness, to treat of the physical characters of that portion
of the county which lies between the southern elevation of
the chalk ridge on the north, and the sea, from the entrance
of Chichester harbour to Netley abbey, on the south, in a
separate chapter.
Physically considered, this is a very complicated district,
and one with which it is exceedingly difficult to deal in
such a manner as to be intelligible. Its climate, indeed, is
pretty uniform, though not absolutely so, inasmuch as the
surrounding and adjacent lands do not equally cover it from
all winds. The high downs to the south of Petersfield,
protect it completely from the influence of the. cold north
east ; and the continuation of tho.se downs, until the water
shed at Longwood warren, and even close to the Itchen in
Twyford down, equally protect it from the north and north
west. To the southward of the western termination of these,
the ground upon the water-shed is low, though not a per
fect level ; but where the ground between the Itchen and

126 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
the most westerly river in this natural district is lowest,
that is, between Bishop's Waltham and Botley, there are
high grounds immediately on the west of the Itchen, which
form a natural barrier in that direction. Thus' it may be
said, that, along the north-east, the north, and the west, this
southern slope of Hampshire is physically sheltered from the
winds of distant districts ; and, in a great measure, confined
to the local action or transfer of the atmosphere, between
sea and land. On the south-west again, it is protected from
the violence of the sea air, by the land of the New Forest
district, and the Isle of Wight, which latter protects it in
great part from the south. Thus, the south-east is the only
wind which can come full upon it without any obstacle from
ground more elevated than the lower parts of the district.
The wind in this, the only open direction, is a sea wind in
appearance ; but it is not in reality one of those sea winds
which waft saline particles far inland, and thereby injure
vegetation. This wind from the south-east, or from the
south to nearly the east, blows across the Channel from the
coast of France, which coast, taking Portsmouth as a centre,
forms an irregular arc, the mean radius of which does not
exceed one hundred miles. This is a short passage for a
breeze of any considerable velocity ; and when the wind is
strong, though the passage over this inconsiderable extent
of water may temper it, it can never waft any injurious mat
ters, or acquire that destructive velocity which gales do ac
quire when they sweep over many hundred miles of sea.
There is another circumstance connected with the only
winds which can reach this part of Hampshire from the
open Channel ; and that is the fact that the wind comes
across the main set of the tidal wave. Therefore, this, the
only sea wind which can reach the southern slope of Hamp
shire is, in so far as respects vegetation, fertility, and salu
brity, one of the most gentle winds that can blow. It is no
doubt fresh, as all winds that come over the sea are ; but it
is never raw and cold, neither does it exert the same dry and
withering influence, as the sea winds from the east but too

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

127

often do upon the east coast of England, and of Britain
generally. The sea wind here is literally "the soft south,"
one of the most balmy that can blow, and well deserving of
all the encomiums which have been bestowed upon it.
Hence, blight is unknown in this part of Hampshire — at
least that description which is produced by the cold and dry
ing winds of the early season ; which winds wither the leaves,
render the juices of plants stagnant and saccharine, and thus
favour the hatching of innumerable caterpillars, which con
sume all that the wind has left, and thus render the trees,
especially the fruit trees, both unsightly and unproductive.
There is another advantageous effect of this wind : from the
quantity of water in the three land-locked bays or harbours
of Chichester, Langston, and Portsmouth, and from the
spongy nature of much of the soil of Hayling and Portsea
islands, of which much of the immediate substratum is of
the nature of peat, the air would be very unwholesome, were
it not that this softest and most salutary of sea breezes is
occasionally let in upon it. If, too, the quantity of silted
bottom, which is laid bare at low water, were acted upon
only by a fresh-water flood, it would give a pestilent mias
mata which would be very injurious to the health of its in
habitants, and even impart an unwholesome quality to the
vegetable products of the earth, which products are never of
the safest or most pleasant kind, if the air in which they are
grown is in any way tainted. The sea breeze, and the
evaporation of the sea water, combine in giving the air an
anteseptic quality, which completely destroys all miasmata ;
and in consequence of this, the low and marshy grounds
about Portsmouth and the other places adjacent, are as
healthy as if they were dry and elevated, at the same time
that they are much more productive.
As if to render these advantages of exposure to the pecu
liar winds of the sea on this part of the coast in the highest
degree serviceable, both to animal and to vegetable life, the
small portion of the district, which lies immediately between
and adjoining the three harbours, has a provision in the

128 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
power of the surface which gives it an atmospheric action
of its own, independent of that of the district, to say nothing
of the rest of the county. This is the peculiarly detached
ridge of chalk, known by the name of Portsdown, or Ports-
down hill. This singular elevation is, in the surface strata
at least, completely detached from the rest of the chalk by
a bed of tertiary matters, several miles in breadth, and con
taining the remains of the forest of Bere. The down
stretches in the direction of almost due east and west from
Bedhampton, at the^ most northerly point of Langston har
bour, to the town of Fareham, at the north-western extremity
of the harbour at Portsmouth. For great part of its length
its base is not above a mile or a mile and a half in breadth ;
but it gets a little broader toward the western extremity, and
subsides gradually, till the chalk gets under the tertiary, for
mation north-east of Fareham. It stands up like an unbro
ken ridge or wall for a distance of about six miles, and hav
ing a general elevation of about four hundred feet. Its sum
mit is not more than a mile from the northern part of either
of the two harbours ; and as the southern side is steep, and the
descent to a very slight elevation above the level of the tide
short, it has a conspicuous and rather a singular appearance,
— very much that of an artificial mound raised to defend the
town of Portsmouth, the ships in the harbour, and all the
parts immediately adjacent, from the fury of the north wind.
The district to the north of Portsmouth, between it and the
main ridge of the chalk, is obviously a partial basin or depres
sion ; but whether it was occasioned by the upheaving of the
down, or by the depression of that part of the chalk upon
which it immediately rests, is a point which it is not neces
sary, neither would it be easy, to determine. There is evi
dence, however, that the down has been elevated, or the
basin depressed ; for the strata of chalk, as indicated by the
flints and other evidences of gradual depositation, dip toward
the north, that is, toward the basin of the forest.
To the south of the down, chalk forms the substratum,
though under a considerable depth of tertiary and alluvial

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 129
matters ; and it is highly probable that it continues to do
so until it crops out in the hummocky ridge which tra
verses the Isle of Wight. The chalk is worked for lime,
very near the bottom of Portsmouth harbour, and it appear^
in the bottom of the harbour itself, not far to the south of
the ruins of Porchester castle.
This singular ridge of chalk is of course, very dry, and is
highly susceptible to the action of the sun, as well as ra
pidly cooled when that action ceases. The consequence is,
that the air over Portsmouth and the adjacent parts never
can stagnate for any long period. The sea and the down
are never of the same temperature for any length of time ;
and there are cases in which a land wind from the down,
and a sea wind from the water, are blended together to
form the Portsmouth atmosphere, when the low ground
upon which the town stands becomes more heated than
either the down or the sea. This must conduce much to
the salubrity of the air, and also to the growth of vegeta
bles, which would be apt to become stunted if their change
of air came from the sea only, soft as is the sea air upon this
part of the coast. The summit of the down is not more than
six miles from Gilkicker point, on the west of the entrance to
Portsmouth harbour, nor more than five miles from Southsea
castle, or more than four and a half from Cumberland fort
on the west of the entrance to Langston. Thus, of the square
of six miles in the side, extending from the ridge of the down
southward, more than half the area is water, at least at full
tide ; and the influence of the down and the sea, acting reci
procally upon each other, is felt over all the combination of
land and water to the east of the county, and in the adjoin
ing part of Sussex, as far as Chichester on the east, and
Selsea bill on the south-east, indeed over all the lowland
eastward, until the ridge of the south downs comes in and
supplies the same kind of antagonist to the sea, as Ports-
down does to the little spot of Hampshire under considera
tion. The whole of this stripe of lowland has, accordingly,
a climate well adapted for every species of vegetable which
VOL. n. s

130 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
requires warmth and shelter ; and we believe that upon it
a failure of the crop is very rarely known. At Emsworth,
which is on the border of the county, and almost in a line
with the length of Portsdown, the main ridge of the south
downs is at the distance of nine miles north from the high
est point of the tide ; and irregular spurs of the downs, and
sometimes detached hills of chalk, extend southward, of vari
able lengths, but in general nearly to half the distance. In
Sussex, there is a spur of the downs branching southward
from Beacon hill in the main ridge, and about three miles
east of the point at which the boundary of Hants and Sus
sex crosses the ridge. This spur, which is, like Portsdown,
a narrow elevation, approaches within six miles of the east
ern extremity of Portsdown ; and the direction of the two
would lead one to suppose that they are parts of the margin
of one depression or basin of the chalk ; but, as the surface
appears, the separation is now complete, although the gene
ral inclination of the surface against the opening would lead
to the supposition that a strong current of water had set
southward through this opening, while another set westward
between the main ridge and Portsdown. Thus, we have
the eastern part of the forest of Bere, or of the ground which
that forest once occupied, inclining southward toward Ems-
worth channel, and Langston harbour; while the portion
westward of this, slopes to the west in a direction nearly
parallel to the down. The few brooks which fall into the
harbours here, all have their rise in the elevated parts of
the forest ; and, though near their sources the soil consists of
cold clay or sand, it becomes better as the shore is approached.
Many parts of the colder land are well wooded ; the surface
is in many places varied ; and when the combination of
woodland and glade, and hill and dale, is seen with the
water and islands beyond, the landscape is a very pleasing
one: as the high downs are approached, timber becomes
scanty, there is little of the surface under culture, and habi
tations are few and far between. The downs are, it is true,
in great part cleft in twain to the eastward of Butser hill,

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

131

where the London road from Portsmouth passes ; but for
more than four miles along that road, that is, from Horndean
to the summit of the ridge, the country is very bleak and
naked. It consists mainly of Charlton down, Hole down,
and the hill to the westward of the road, opposite Butser.
All of these downs are very naked, and the summits of them
covered by a scanty crop of alpine grasses, with here and
there a bush of ground juniper, not larger than a sheep, tell
how inclement the winter must be upon them. But still,
though the winter air is keen, the climate is good, and there
is no question that planting, were- it skilfully put in prac
tise, would tend very materially to the amelioration of the
climate, upon even the most exposed, and presently barren,
of those chalky heights. This may be inferred from the
fact, that wherever a sheltered spot occurs there is a kindly
sward upon it, and nature herself has sowed thriving copses
in several of the dells.
The summit-level along the forest of Bere, may be re
garded as extending northwTard from Portsdown, not far from
where the London road passes, till it reaches Butser hill,
which is a kind of nucleus of all the elevations in the central
part of this natural division of the county. Rivers in this
part there may be said to be none ; and the brooks are few,
nameless, and insignificant. The central and most elevated
part of this forest is, upon the average, about three miles to
the north of Portsdown ; but it trends more to the north in
the western part. Between it and the down, there is a
kind of valley or depression, along which the main stream,
which is a very trifling one, flows with a winding course
past the village of Southwick, where it receives a branch
from the north. A few miles further west, the united rivu
let runs towards the south, and falls into Portsmouth har
bour at Fareham. This is the only stream which falls into
the harbour ; and its quantity of water is so trifling that it
could have no effect one way or another ; so that whatever
natural changes the harbour undergoes must depend entirely
upon the sea.
s 2

132 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
The soil of this space between the down and the forest,
consists of strong clay, or barren sand, or an admixture of
the two ; and these alternate with each other, at very short
distances, sometimes in the same field, the two ends of
which would require very different modes of culture. The
general surface here might be described as flat and destitute
of beauty. It is also cold from the nature of the soil, and
the interception of the sea air by the high down on the
south. The cross paths are very heavy in wet weather, and
in the winter months the climate is uncomfortable.
To the northward of the forest, between that and the
northward downs, there is another valley, or rather plain,
consisting of clayey or sandy lands, which crop out upon
the chalk toward the north. In character and climate this
very much resembles the former, only it is destitute of even
a brook, and in great part naked of timber. As might be
expected, parish churches, and the seats of landowners are
not numerous in this part of Hampshire ; and, though it
has of late years received a good deal of improvement, es
pecially by the enclosure and cultivation of surfaces which
once belonged to the forest, physically speaking, it is far
from being the best part of the county. To the north and
west of the districts now mentioned there is a district of
superior character, at least in so far as nature is concerned.
This district consists of the valley of a river which has been
sometimes called the Arle, though, like very many of the
rivers of Hampshire, it locally gets different names, as it
passes by different places, each village having a nomencla
ture of its own, or designating it by the general name of
the Bourne. After the Test and the Itchen, this is the
largest river rising in Hampshire, and having its whole course
within the county. The first sources of it are in the north
ern side of a high and bleak range of the downs, which, com
mencing at Butser hill on the east, trends in a curve south
ward by Oxenbourn down and Chidden down, a distance of
about five miles, to old Winchester hill, at which it divides
into two parts, one trending northward in the direction of

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 133
Warnford, a distance of about two miles, and the other west
ward by Stoke down to Meon Stoke, about a mile and a half.
Both branches terminate abruptly at these places, and the
river alluded to passes across their terminations. Taking
the curve of the downs, from Butser hill to Warnford, or
rather to the spur which comes down to West Meon, about
a mile and a half north-east of Warnford, the downs form
a curve convex to the north with diversities of hill and dale
filling up the convexity. Between these downs and those
which extend from Longwood warren and by Gander and
Kilmeston downs, and so on to the southward of the road
from Winchester to Petersfield, and round by Barrow hill
to Butser hill, there is enclosed the valley of Meon or East
Meon, a very beautiful spot, nearly encircled by the chalky
downs, but containing strong clay, rich loam, and other soils
well suited for agricultural purposes.
This valley of Meon, is the upper part of the valley of
that river, of which we speak, and it is perhaps the portion
of it which can with most propriety be denominated a valley.
The original streams of the river, of which there are seve
ral, though none of them are large, have their sources chiefly
in or under the high downs on the south ; and their united
streams flow onward north-westerly and westerly to West
Meon, south-west to Warnford, and then westerly of south
to the sea, at a point about two miles and a half east of Cal
shot castle. In its course from Warnford, this river passes
a number of parish churches, which shows that, in the early
times, this part of the county was valuable. These parishes
will be more particularly noticed afterwards ; but, in the mean
time, it may not be amiss to give a list of them. The first
is Exton, nearly two miles south of Warnford; the next
Corhampton, half-armile from Exton ; then Meon Stoke,
half-a-mile from Corhampton ; Droxford, a mile and a quar
ter from Meon Stoke, and Soberton, not quite a mile from
Droxford. The number of churches which occur here,
namely six, within the short distance of four miles, on the
straight line, and very little more by the course of the river,

134 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
affords more conclusive evidence than any description, both
of the fertility of the soil and the salubrity of the climate.
All these churches were established at a very early period ;
and though the professed object in the founding of churches
always is the good of the people, yet they are, of course,
never established but where there are people to enjoy the
benefit of religious instruction, and by implication, if not by
primary perception, the means of affording carnal necessa
ries to the men who minister in holy things.
From Soberton to the mouth of the river, the distance is
nearly eleven miles, or not very much less than three times
the former ; and this, of the same quality and population
with the four miles above, would have given eighteen
churches, or at any rate seventeen ; but there are, in reality,
only two, — Wickham, about four miles below Soberton, and
Titchfield, about other four miles further down. Whatever
the country may be now, in consequence of modern improve
ment, this disparity in the number of churches, tells, more
plainly than any language, what difference there must be in
the natural or physical circumstances of the country on the
two portions of the river. The fact is, that a little below
Soberton, the district of rich clay and loam, which begins
in the valley of Meon, and skirts the chalky downs in an
irregular line, by Bishop's Waltham to the valley of the
Itchen, is cut off by a continuation of the sandy and origi
nally sterile ground of which the forest of Bere forms the
eastern part. This description of ground, susceptible of im
provement in many parts, but naturally sterile, or producing
heath in some places, and dwarfed and stunted trees in
others, occupies a considerable portion of the seaward part of
this natural district of Hampshire, crossing the valley of the
Itchen, or at all events, rising to even a greater elevation on
the west, or right-hand side of that river, than it does any
where to the eastward ; extending in large patches northward
to the left of the Test, and occupying no inconsiderable por
tion of the New Forest. Wherever this portion of the ter
tiary formation makes its appearance, it approximates to the

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 135
nature of those hungry sands and gravels usually termed
crag ; and, as is the case with them, it presents a very dreary
and barren appearance when left in a state of nature. But,
though a hungry subsoil, and one which is, for a time at
least, costly in the article of manure, there are some circum
stances connected with it which are by no means unfavour
able to agriculture. The surface of it never sours by stag
nant water ; but, on the contrary, it is dry, warm, and early ;
and there is scarcely any objection to it other than the great
expense of first bringing it into a state fit for bearing crops.
With proper management, although that management would
be costly, the more elevated portions of this description of
natural soil would make good turnip land, while the lower
ones would answer equally well for potatoes. Both potar
toes and turnips were unknown to cultivation in the early
times, and the same may be said of the artificial grasses,
which have been introduced with so much advantage. But,
as the ancient cultivators were ignorant of all these, they
had no alternative but to abandon such grounds to what
ever wild plants they would bear in a state of nature, and
whatever wild animals chose to resort to them. Deer were
the only large animals to which they are suited ; and this,
and also the caprice of the old monarchs — who we sup
pose were naturally as wise as the monarchs of modern times,
led to the afforesting of lands on the green sand, and those
sandy portions of the tertiary formation, of which there used
to be so many examples in Hampshire, — as for instance,
that of Holt, and Woolmer forest, in the eastern part of the
county ; and the forest of Bere, Waltham chase, and the
New Forest in the southern part. In the central part of
this district those sandy heights now appear in detached
patches only, though there is little doubt that, at one period,
they occupied a considerable portion of the surface near the
sea. They are not of a character very materially to affect
the atmosphere which passes over them ; and, as their dry
ness, and the openness of their texture, render them pecu
liarly susceptible to changes of temperature, they assist in

136 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
keeping the atmosphere in motion, and thus contribute to
the healthiness and the fertility of the adjacent grounds ;
nor is there any doubt that those sandy tracts, upon the
lower part of the river in question, and the other rivers on
the south of Hampshire, contributed not a little, in the early
times, to the fertility of the upper valleys. Had they been
marshes, or surfaces upon which water could stagnate in
any quantity, the case would have been very different ; and
Hampshire would not have been the favourite county which
it was in the early times.
By what means rivers of such small size as those in the
south of Hampshire cut their way through this formation of
sand and gravel, which in some cases forms more lofty, more
proximate, and more steep banks, than even the chalk, it is
not easy to conjecture ; and yet, there must have been a
cutting open of the passages or the valleys of the rivers, and
not an upheaving of the sand and gravel ; for, though these
are undoubtedly marine formations, they are formations
which do not appear to have been disturbed by any sub
terranean action, similar to that which upheaved the chalk.
How those passages were opened is an interesting enquiry ;
but it is one for the prosecution of which we have no data,
and therefore, to speculate concerning it would be but a
waste of time.
The only other river which marks out a district in this
part of Hampshire, is the H amble ; and though the country
on the banks of this is, in its physical characters, very
similar to that on the river last-mentioned, the Hamble is
by much the smaller of the two. Its first sources are some
trifling brooks, rising in the southern side of the downs
about the line where the chalk and gravel overlap the clay.
The middle one has its source a little to the northward of
Bishop's Waltham, where it is a mere brook ; but, about
a mile and a half lower down, it receives some other brooks
from the west and the east ; and, thus augmented, it flows
onwards for about two miles and a half to the village of
Botley ; and thence onward for about six miles more to the

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 137
sea, — the total length of its course not exceeding a mile
and a quarter. The lower part of it, however, has a very
slow current and deep channel, which render it navigable
for craft of considerable burden.
Of a geological nature, there is little in this part of Hamp
shire, at least to the northward and westward of Portsdown,
beyond what we have already stated. The small portion of
land to the southward of the downs, intermediate between
the harbours, and forming their beds or basins under the
recent deposit of the waters, is a little more interesting, be
cause a little more varied, and therefore we shall devote a
few sentences to it.
We have already mentioned that the chalk formation lies
under the tertiary and more recent strata, not only of the
whole southern part of Hampshire, but under the bed of the
narrow seas, or to the cropping out of the Isle of Wight
ridge over the green sand, in the centre of that island. This
is the general belief of those who are most competent to
form an accurate judgment upon the subject, and it is fully
borne out by the analogy of the basin which contains the
tertiary formation in the great valley of the Thames. In
deed, there can be no manner of doubt, that, at some depth
or other, chalk is to be found in a continuous bed, from
Beachy head, through Sussex, Hants, Wilts, and Dorset,
round to Culver cliff in the Isle of Wight ; and nowhere
do we find stronger proofs of this than in the small patches
of land which lie between Portsdown and the sea. There
is no good fresh water obtainable in Portsea or the adjoining
places, except by boring or sinking to a depth which is, in
many instances, considerable; and the strata which have
been perforated there, though different in some particulars,
and perhaps, upon the whole, indicating more severe, and,
in all probability, also more recent action, yet there is
no inconsiderable general resemblance to what has been
found in the lower valley of the Thames. In all places
which have been examined without reaching the chalk, the
lowest stratum that has been met with in and about Ports-
VOL. II. T

138 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
mouth, is one of pure white sand, the water in which is
abundant and of excellent quality, similar to the water that
comes out where the gravel caps the chalk, and also to that
which is found by boring through the London clay to the
sand, in the valley of the Thames. Immediately over the
sand there is a stratum of water-rounded pebbles. Over
these pebbles there is a stratum of clay, similar in colour to
the blue clay of the London formation, containing, like that,
beds of sand in some places, occasionally furnishing pure
water, but more frequently, water containing sulphuret of
iron, and offensive to the smell from the sulphuretted hy
drogen which it gives out. This clay varies greatly in
thickness, just as it does in the similar formation at London;
and it contains the same species of shells, and in equal
abundance. Over the clay, as is also the case in many parts
of the valley of the Thames, there is a bed of gravel of
considerable thickness, and increasing in thickness to sea
ward. This gravel is mixed with masses of the clay which
occurs, at Stamshaw, in the island of Portsea, and has been
named after that place ; and this shows that the gravel is of
more recent formation than this clay. Not one of these
formations over the chalk, from the white sand to the gravel,
or even the deposit over that, appears to have been deposited
in a perfectly tranquil state of the water ; for they are all
more or less gathered into inequalities ; and it is possible,
and even probable, that there may have been accumulations
to a considerable depth, even since the time when the Romans
had their harbour at Porchester. There can be no doubt,
from the name they gave it, that the Romans regarded this
as their best port in the Hampshire seas, preferable to both
Bittern and Nutshalling. This is easily shown by the ety
mology. It is true that, upon this, as upon most other
matters which are doomed to suffer the infliction of their
conjectures, the antiquaries have not been wanting in that
peculiar mystification which is especially theirs, and which
always puts one in mind of the rust upon the shelf of
Scriblerus. They will needs derive Porchester, and con-

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 139
sequently Portsmouth, from some real or imaginary Saxon
of the name of Port, whereas nothing can be plainer than
that " Port " in these names is the Latin Porta, and that
Porchester is simply the castle or stronghold erected at the
"port" for the protection of the gallies. Some of the authori
ties mention the finding of a small anchor in the clay, at
the depth of some forty or fifty feet ; and if such is the case,
there must have been a very great formation of clay since
the anchor was placed there. Nobody would dig to such
a depth in order io bury an anchor, though, when the clay
was in a soft and sludgy state, the anchor may, from its
own weight, have sank to an indefinite depth.
It should seem that there have been considerable gainings
and losings, between the sea and the land, in this part of
Hampshire, — far more reciprocating, indeed, than on any
other part of the Channel shore — at least in recent times.
It should seem that, at some former period, and not a very
remote one, although history makes no particular record of
it, there was a forest of timber on the southern or seaward
part of Portsea island ; and though the trees have gone, by
what means is not said, the roots have remained, and may
now be distinctly seen at the low-water of spring tides.
There is no accounting for the freaks and alternations of the
sea ; but it is, withal, a curious matter that, on one part of
this sea-girt, and to all appearance, searproduced islet, there
should be an anchor found fifty feet deep in the clay;
while at another, a forest has been demolished, the land
upon which it stood washed away, and only the tree roots
remain visible at low-water of spring tide ; and, to increase
the marvel, and unsettle all our notions of the usual action
of the sea, this demolition of the land has taken place where
a bank is accumulating, and the real action of the sea
becoming less and less every year. We do not, of course,
deny the statement, we only say that it is an irregular one,
and not explainable upon any of the ordinary principles
which we are accustomed to call to our aid, when we wish
to give anything like a philosophical explanation of the reci-
t 2

140 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
procal action of sea and land, or rather of the reciprocating
action of the sea upon the land ; for the land is, of course,
passive in all cases, whether of disintegration or deposit.
But, although it is not easy, upon any of the common
principles that are resorted to in such cases, to explain this
double action of the sea, by which a portion of the Isle of
Portsea is wearing away, while the bank to the eastward is
increasing, yet the fact seems to be too well established for
admitting of any doubt ; and it is corroborated by the cir
cumstance that the harbours to the eastward, at Emsworth
and Chichester, produce oysters of very superior quality;
and also by the different nature of the deposits in those har
bours and the bank which has formed, and is increasing, off
the island. Oysters are known to fatten best in places
where there is a deposit of the lighter matters of disinte
grated land, as may be verified by examining the most noted
oyster banks in the estuary of the Thames. The muddy
bays about Colchester on the Essex coast, and the muddy
channel of Swale, between the Isle of Sheppey and the main
land of Kent, are the places of much celebrity for oysters.
Now these are depositories for the finer particles of land
which the sea is constantly demolishing. The cliffs about
Aldborough in Suffolk, and those of the Isle of Sheppey are
wearing away very fast ; and, while the pebbles, or portion
that remains of any considerable size, go to the formation of
sea-banks, sometimes not very far from the scene of demo
lition, the lighter particles are carried to a greater distance,
and dropped only where the water becomes still by the shal
lowness and eddy of a creek or interrupted channel. Why
the oysters should prefer this fine mud which has been
wafted by the sea is not so easily explained ; but the proba
bility is, that the mud collects numbers of those animalculse
with which sea water abounds; and as the deposit and
the supply are continually going on, the oysters get their
food fresh and fresh every tide. Oysters are often artifi
cially fatted by mixing barley-meal with the water in which
they are kept ; and in former times, if it is not so still, oysters

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

141

for the gourmands of Edinburgh used to be fatted at the
places where the " bittern," or brine, from the salt-pans was
discharged. Now, it is contrary to all the analogies of na
ture, that oysters should feed either upon barley-meal, or upon
sulphate of soda or magnesia. The food of an oyster must
be animal, whatever may be the species of animal upon
which it subsists ; for oysters are not found in those places
of the sea where there are vegetables ; and even though they
were, the idea of an oyster grazing is a very ridiculous one.
But the substances alluded to, as they are known to fatten
the oysters, must do so, by in some way accumulating or
developing that upon which the oysters feed; and the fine
mud which has been borne by the sea appears to produce a
similar effect. It further appears that, if the disintegrated
matters consist chiefly of chalk or lime, the oysters do not
thrive in it ; and the same may be said of almost all the
mollusca. Hence, oysters are not found on the deposit of
chalk mud to the westward of Portsmouth, while they are
abundant and good in Chichester harbour. The mud which
is deposited in that harbour may, in part, come from the de
composition of the clay and marl on the south side of the
Isle of Wight; for, though the sand is found on the east
coast of the island, the mud is not left upon any part of its
shores, but carried farther to the eastward ; and the harbour
of Chichester is, from the peculiar curve of the shore, the
place to which it is most likely to be brought. The bank off
Selsea bill, and that to the eastward of Portsmouth harbour,
consist of sand and gravel, not of mud; and, upon the prin
ciple explained in last chapter, these ought to be deposited
where the current of the water has more power than it can
have in a place so land-locked as the harbour of Chichester,
or that of Langston. The beach of Portsea island is not
mud, but clean gravel ; and this again shows that there is a
current which runs from that beach to some other place or
places, carrying off the finer particles of whatever is disin
tegrated ; but leaving the pieces which are of considerable
magnitude and weight. Thus, from the peculiar direction

142 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
of the currents in the sea near Portsmouth, we can under
stand, in a general way, how the disintegration of the allu
vial shore of the island, may be compatible with the forma
tion and increase of a shingle bank where the main currents
run against each other. The points of confluence of these
currents shift so much with the state of the winds, and of
the swell which rolls into the Channel from the Atlantic,
that the subject would require very long and minute atten
tion, before one could come to any very certain conclusion
respecting it ; and whether it shall ever be properly investi
gated may be doubted : there is no obvious usefulness in it,
and thus it holds out little temptation to undergo the labour,
and encounter the danger of such an undertaking. The in
habitants of the British Islands are more indebted to the
sea, and have more opportunities of becoming acquainted
with its economy and productions, than the people of any
other country ; and yet they, generally speaking, know very
little about it. Thus, for instance, we have one shore of
the Channel, and the French have another, and one would
naturally suppose that we ought to be the more successful
fishers ; but, so far from this being the case, our fisher
men very frequently complain, and pray for the interference
of the legislature to prevent the French from beating them
at their own trade upon the high seas. This prayer is a very
natural consequence of ignorance, but that does not make it
the less ludicrous even to hint at such a thing as the possi
bility of our legislature, whatever they enact, being able to
carry into execution a statute enforcing all French fisher
men to be more unskilful than British, how unskilful soever
the latter might be.
It is true, that, except at particular spots, and for particu
lar species of fish, the French coast of the Channel is better
fishing ground than the British, as there are deeper bays,
and the current of tide from the Atlantic, does not act so
directly, or sweep along with such unbroken velocity. Of
this there is a good illustration, which is intimately con
nected with the physical history of the southern slope of

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

143

Hampshire ; and, in so far as the county is maritime, this is,
locally considered, one of the most interesting points.
On many parts of the British shores, even of such as are
rich in an agricultural point of view, the riches of the sea,
form a great addition to the riches of the land, in the con
stant supply of fish, in the most recent, and therefore the
most wholesome condition. Now, if a stranger, who knew
nothing of the actual economy of the British seas, were to
have the map of England laid down before him, and to be
desired to lay his finger upon the place where the local po
pulation derived the greatest advantage from an abundant
supply of fish, he would be very apt to lay his finger upon
this part of Hampshire, and point to Portsmouth as the
grand centre of a most extensive and most valuable fishery.
Now, so far is the fact being in accordance with this na
tural inference from first appearances, that there is no mari
time part of the United Kingdom so badly supplied with
native fish, as the south coast of Hampshire ; and instead of
Portsmouth having a good fish-market of its own, it receives
its regular supply from London, which is also the case with
Southampton, and all the other towns in Hants. The cod
family (Gadoidae), may be regarded as the grand staple
white fish. And almost the only one of these which is
taken in the narrow seas of Hampshire is the whiting, one
of the most delicate, but certainly the least substantial of the
whole ; and it is found at particular spots, principally, we
believe, in the clear water over the stony bottom of the
western part of the Isle of Wight northward. There is
another of the cod family which is often brought in con
siderable numbers to the Portsmouth market for sale. This
is the hake, or sea pike fmerluciusj ; but so far from its
appearance being the slightest indication of anything like a
supply of fish upon the coast, the proof is all the other way ;
for the hake is so inferior in quality, that it is never suffered
to appear in any decent fish-market. It is a ranging fish,
and exceedingly voracious, following the pilchards, and
actually swallowing them by the dozen. — Mr. Couch, of

144 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
Polperro, in Cornwall, whose constant and successful inves
tigations have thrown so much light upon the fishes and
fisheries of the Channel, mentions seventeen pilchards hav
ing been found in the stomach of an ordinary-sized hake.
But though this worst of all fishes is sold in great numbers
at Portsmouth, it is not caught on any part of the Hampshire
coast, but is brought from that of Devon.
Very few fishes of any species frequent the Hampshire
shores ; and the few that do come, come but for a visit and
off again. The discursive fishes, which retire to the deeps
at one season of the year, and visit the shores for physio
logical purposes at another ; are almost the only ones to be
met with, excepting, perhaps, a few flat-fish ; and the bot-
toms, until a considerable opening from the land is gained,
are by no means favourable for them. Of the herring fa
mily, the common herring and the sprat are those which are
principally taken ; and among the sprats which are brought
to market, there are often specimens of other and curious
species, as of the pipe fishes, especially the snake pipe-fish
(Syngnathus ophidion), small specimens of the dragonet,
and some others which are curious but of no use. Yet the
most renowned member of the whole herring family has
been met with in some of the waters of this part of Hamp
shire, and it might no doubt be found in others, perhaps in
all the estuaries which have brackish water perfect, if due
search were made for it. This is the renowned white-bait
(Clupea alba), which is not only the daintiest dish that
can be set before the worshipful the lord mayor and alder
men of London ; but one, to partake of which, the lords of
the privy council are annually rowed in state in the Ord
nance barges. In the paucity of other piscine delicacies, it
is some consolation for the Hantesian mayors and aldermen
to know that, by making an annual pilgrimage to the Ham-
ble, between Botley and Hound, they can be as daintily re
fected on white-bait, as the corporation of London, or her
Majesty's prime minister himself. White-bait is a very
delicate little fish, and though much of the zest of it de-

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE 145
pends on the cuisine, it is certainly an addition to the pro
ducts of any waters in which it occurs; and as it is not
likely to be met with in the Hamble only, and not in any
of the other estuaries, it is at least worth looking after.
It is true, that, as compared with the longer rivers, the
Hamble has some peculiarities. Scarcely any part of its
course lies over the chalk, and thus its waters can have no
calcareous impregnation ; in the second place, its estuary is
larger in proportion to the volume of water, than that of any
of the other rivers ; and thus the top of the brackish, the
portion of the water which the white-bait seeks, moves up
and down with the tide over a considerable range. This is
not the case either with the Itchen or Test, or with the
Titchfield river, and therefore it may be that this delicate
little fish is not to be met with in them.
Notwithstanding the occurrence of this delicacy in the
place which we have named, the narrow seas on the south
coast of Hampshire can scarcely be said to have any regular
fishing ; and those who go to fish in a systematic manner,
must go to a distance of from ten to twenty miles from the
coast, and practise that deep-sea fishing in which the French
fishermen are said to be so superior to ours.
Upon all coasts, fishes are more or less capricious — being
plentiful for several years, and then found in limited num
bers or not at all. This is especially true of all those fishes
which congregate in large shoals ; and the reason seems to
be that, except at some extraordinary spots, where food is
brought abundantly by a constant current, they in time ex
haust the food — eat their pastures bare as it were, and then
they must retire for a time, in order that that upon which
they subsist may again accumulate. According to the vul
gar mode of expression, this looks very like reasoning in
the fishes ; but such is not the case, it is a simple instinct,
which we find in all animated nature, without any know
ledge or reason in the case.
But the fishes have not retired from the Hampshire seas,
in order that their pastures may recover, and that they may
VOL. II. U

146 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
return and have plenty. Whether it was so from the be
ginning we cannot tell ; but certainly all those seas are at
present barren wastes to the more useful fishes ; and there
is not the slightest chance that their character shall ever be
changed. The Channel is nowhere a favourite resort for
the cod family, other than the ranging ones and the small
rock cod ; for there are in the Channel no banks upon which
food for them, or that on which they feed, can be deposited.
There are, however, many valuable species of fish in the
mid-channel ; and the pilchards and mackerel, which are
more southerly fishes than the common herring, are more
plentiful and in better condition there than upon any other
part of the coast. They do not, however, approach the shores
in any considerable numbers, between the bill of Port
land and Selsea. The reason seems to be, that the shores
are in a state of continual change, either by being worn
away, or by receiving fresh deposits ; while the bottom, to
some distance from the shore, is swept by the gravel or
shingle, which is constantly on its march eastward along
the whole length of the line. Hence, there are few of the
small ground animals which are found in such numbers
on the more permanent shores ; and though the spawn of
fishes may be deposited, it is swept awray in some places,
and buried in others. Where fishes come to the shores
they generally come in succession, at different times of the
year, so that the young of one species are ready to supply
another with food, and these in turn repay the obligation by
a very beautiful provision of nature.
The same causes which prevent the sea fishes from com
ing to the shores of Hants, prevent ^salmon from coining to
the rivers. The barriers which are placed in the Itchen
and Test, no doubt are, in part, the cause of this ; but it
does not appear that there are many salmon in the South
ampton Water, or in any of the narrow seas, at the time
when they are found in the offings of the salmon rivers.
Those which do stray into the estuaries, and are captured at
the salmon-leaps, which are very close to the sea, are of

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.

147

very inferior quality, and evidently starved. There are
never good salmon in a river, unless there are sands near
the entrance of it; as the principal food of the salmon is
the sand launce, and the young of other fishes ; and neither
of these can be obtained in the Hampshire seas. Thus,
when we take all the circumstances of the case into consi
deration, we are brought to the conclusion that, though man
may have done something to prevent salmon from coming
into the Hampshire rivers, nature has done a great deal
more ; — and generally, that, however productive the land of
Hampshire may be of human food, little dependance can
be placed upon those waters which so much indent the
Hampshire shores. This is, perhaps, not much to be re
gretted, because it naturally leads the people to concentrate
their energies upon that which will be really useful to
them, and makes them one people instead of two ; for, in all
countries where there is an agricultural and a fishing popu
lation, they are as far estranged from each other in their
feelings and habits, as if they lived at opposite extremities
of the globe.
But, if the seas of Hampshire are thus, comparatively,
unproductive of fish, the same cannot be said of the rivers ;
for there are none in the kingdom in which trout and eels
are more abundant, or of finer quality. From the calca
reous nature of the bottoms, and the filtering of the water
through the grass of the meadows, there is perhaps not so
much ground food for trout as in the rivers of some other
counties; but insects swarm upon all the waters in the
county ; and, notwithstanding the hawking of vast numbers
of swallows and swifts, the trout must come in for a full
share. Now, insect-feeding animals are always peculiarly
delicate and racy in their flesh ; and trout from clear streams
are always superior to those from muddy water. For these
reasons, the trout of Hampshire are very fine, and eels are
quite as plentiful, and equally good in quality. All the va
rieties are met with, — the sharp-nosed, the broad-nosed, and
the yellow eel. They make their annual migrations to and
u 2

148 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS OF
from the sea in vast multitudes ; and very many are taken
in eel-pots, and in traps at the mill courses and other falls of
water, as they descend the rivers in autumn and early win
ter. Perhaps the Avon, which is a Hampshire river for
part of its course only, is the best eel stream; but there
are numbers in all the rivers of the county, in what part
soever they are situated. Lake fishes are few ; for though
there are some artificial sheets of water, there is not a single
natural lake in the county.
Such is the supply of fish in the seas and also in the fresh
waters of the county of Hants ; and we have thought best to
offer these remarks as part of, or as connected with, the
physical characters of the southern slope ; because, being
opposite to the great anchorage, and the main outlet to the
Channel, it is more immediately connected with the sea than
any of the other districts which we have mentioned.
The ornithology of Hants is particularly rich, especially
in numbers. The deficiency of fishes and their fry upon
the shores, makes the sea birds of bold wing more rare than
they are in many other parts of the kingdom ; but the win
ter visitants comprise almost all the species that are to be
met with in the catalogues of migrant water birds. Run
ning birds upon the shores are but few, in consequence of
the absence of the small animals upon which these birds
subsist ; but there are a good many, both of summer and of
winter migrants, which resort to the more fenny parts of the
course of the rivers. The smaller air and tree birds are
very abundant ; and the swallow tribe are perhaps more
plentiful than in any other county of England. Some of
the woods on the gravelly soil are vocal with nightingales ;
and what with 'the song of the robin and the missel-thrush
in the winter months, there is no time of the year without
its natural melody ; and when a severe storm comes, the
chirp of sorrow comes in place of the song of joy. There
is no want of the smaller hawks ; but there are no eagles,
or larger hawks, except a straggler now and then. The
great bustard is extinct even upon the most extensive downs ;

THE SOUTHERN SLOPE. 149
but specimens of the little bustard occur, though even they
are rare. We shall probably have something to say of the
other races of animals when we come to treat of the New
Forest. Such are some of the physical characters of the southern
slope of Hampshire, both those which are peculiar to it,
and those which are common to it and the rest of the county.
There is nothing about them which is very striking, or
which calls for any great breadth of detail. The most re
markable, certainly, is the sterility of the sea; and the
causes of that do not lie in anything peculiar in the land
or climate of Hampshire, but in the peculiar action of the
Channel upon the English shore.
The geology of the district, and indeed of the county
generally, might prepare us for this tameness of character.
In the whole of the district, or indeed of the county, there
is nothing that can, in strict propriety, be called a rock ; for
though, in the language of geology, a bank of clay, or a bed
of loose sand, is called a rock, yet a chalk cliff hardly comes
under that denomination in the popular acceptation. Now,
there is nothing apparent, as the surface in Hampshire, but
chalk, gravel, clay, sand, and vegetable mould ; and the
only bold escarpment which can be got on any of these, is
the side of a chalk-pit, which is certainly not a picturesque
object. But if the ground itself is not picturesque, nothing
that is found upon it can be so. Both may be beautiful ;
and no county can be more beautiful in the many outlines of
its surface, or the vegetation with which that surface is
clothed, than many parts of the county of Hants ; but when
this has been stated, the quantum of this kind of commen
dation is at an end, and there is no more to be said. The
physical characters are in accordance; and therefore, any
account of them must be common-place if it is true.
The sterling worth of the county, in all that contributes
to human happiness and comfort, far more than counterba
lances any little defects that there may be in the absence of
picturesque effect ; and as nothing can deprive the people of

150 PHYSICAL CHARACTERS.
the one, they need give themselves very little concern about
the other, — the more so, that no trouble which they might
give themselves could possibly be of the the slightest avail.
The physical characters of a country or district have al
ways a very considerable effect upon at least the physical
development of the inhabitants ; and though, from the inter
course which takes place between all its districts, this is
necessarily less marked in England than in most countries ;
but still, there must be differences, to some extent or other,
between the inhabitants of those districts which are much
contrasted with each other ; and, upon this hypothesis, the
physical system of the people of Hampshire, ought, in ac
cordance with the nature of the country, to be more deve
loped and vigorous than the intellectual.
But there are points of individual interest in this part of
Hampshire, both as regards the past, and as regards the pre
sent. These, however, cannot be generalised upon any one
principal subject, either local or historical ; and therefore
we have no alternative but to combine them with brief no
tices of the more remarkable places.

HISTORICAL AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 151

CHAPTER VII.
SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL AND TOPOGRAPHICAL
DETAILS.
This portion of Hampshire has, of course, no history as a
whole, and indeed no continuous history of any kind ; for
the proprietorship of it has undergone many changes ; and,
though men of considerable name have been born in it, in
the lapse of ages, there has no great family of ancient ori
gin, come down to the present time, with anything corres
ponding to its former greatness. The chroniclers say, that
this part of Hampshire was one of considerable interest be
fore the time of the Romans ; and that a strong fortification
and town, or place of safety of some kind for the people,
existed at Porchester, nearly four hundred years before the
Christian epoch. This, though the legend is of course not to
be implicitly relied on, is not improbable ; for the fact that
Csesar found the capital of Cassivellaunus to consist only of
a tangled portion of the wood near modern St. Alban's, and
the ramparts, or defences, to be nothing else than felled
trees, which, though they of course arrested the progress of
the war-chariots of the Britons, were but a feeble defence
against the onset of the Roman legions ; — although Caesar
found this to be the condition of the fortified capital of the
then most powerful prince among the midland Britons, yet
it by no means follows that there might not have been, even

152 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
then, some sort of strong place here, with mud walls, though
not very likely with the revetmens of stone — a means of de
fence not known in any British camp the authenticity of
which is well established. The accounts state that when
Vespasian, while acting under Plautius, had completed the
subjugation of the Isle of Wight to the Roman power, he
crossed over to Porchester with his troops, in order to assist
Plautius in reducing the country to the south of the Thames,
— that to the north, from its more exclusively wooded char
racter, and the comparative ferocity of its inhabitants, being
a more unprofitable conquest, and one which it was not
easy to retain.
It does not appear that much fighting was required in
this vicinity, — probably because the Belgae who inhabited
these parts were, comparatively, a recent colony from the
continent ; and most likely, indeed were, in the habit of re
ceiving frequent reinforcements from it, as well for com
mercial and other peaceful purposes, as for repelling the
attacks of the inland Britons, or of gradually encroaching
upon their territory, which appears to have been the Bel-
gic mode of procedure, — as we have endeavoured to show,
when treating of the hill-forts and ramparts on the margin
of Salisbury plain — a notice of which appears in the first
volume of this work. It is probable, that though, at a sub
sequent period, Bittern was the port, and Winchester the
place of attraction ; yet that, as this part of Hampshire was
the most easily approachable by sea, the first which those
invading Hampshire came to, and remarkably well adapted
for the shelter of war galleys from all injury of sea storms
and tides, Porchester, or the vicinity of Porchester, was the
main point at which the successive bodies of invaders landed.
It does not appear that any Roman road extended in a north
easterly direction from this port or landing-place ; and in
deed, it is probable that, in those days, the whole of the
district between Portsdown and the Butser heights, was
one tangled forest ; and, from the strong clay and consequent
retentiveness of the soil in some places, it is probable that

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 153
it was not very practicable. In those times, this thick fo
rest appears to have extended, with scarcely any interrup
tion, to Bishop's Waltham ; and, for this reason, no doubt,
the Romans laid down the line of their road to the south
west, — as their object appears always to have been to carry
these roads over open and elevated tracts. In this, they
most likely had two objects in view: first, to obtain dry
positions for their roads ; and such positions as that these
would neither be laid under water, nor broken up by the
violence of torrents. In the then state of the country, this
displayed considerable tact in engineering ; because the da
mages which they thereby avoided, were the ones most
likely to ensue, where so much of the ground over which
the road passed, was completely in a state of nature. But
secondly, they had regard to the personal safety of their
troops and the security of their supplies, by laying the lines
of road across places where there was the least chance of
their parties being betrayed into an ambuscade. Like all
other barbarous or semi-barbarous nations, the Britons,
especially those of the interior, were bush-fighters ; and the
term interior, had at that time, a different signification from
what it has now. It did not so much imply a certain lineal
distance from the sea, as a certain thickness and entangle
ment of forest; and, on this account, there is every reason
to believe that, in the time of the Romans, such a district
as that of the forest of Bere and Waltham chase, was as
completely the interior as the midland counties themselves.
The Roman road may still be traced on the downs be
tween Chilcomb and Morested ; and also near Wickham, and
in some other places ; but, generally speaking, it is oblite
rated. Some Roman remains have been found along the
line of this road; but they have not been very numerous.
Where the road remains entire, or nearly so, upon the high
and naked downs, it is not likely that any Roman villas
would be erected ; and the richer parts have been so long
under cultivation, and were so for so many years before
proper attention was paid to memorials of antiquity, that it
VOL. II. x

154 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
is natural to suppose that destruction must have been the
fate of whatever the Romans left there. What description
of fort or strong place the Romans may have had for the
accommodation and protection of the guard of their shipping
here it is not easy to say. The castle walls, and also the
towers of the keep, the ruins of which still remain, are cer
tainly not Roman, although the age and founder of them are
but imperfectly known. Indeed, it does not appear that the
present castle of Porchester was built with any view to the
protection of shipping, or of anything else, other than the
vassels and property of its lord in case of emergency. It ap
pears to have been early abandoned as a shipping place, in
consequence of the superior advantages of Portsmouth ; and
thus, though the road remained during the time of the Ro
man influence in this part of the country, and probably for a
long time after, it is most likely that the shipping port was
transferred to Portsmouth, during the time that the Romans,
or those acknowledging the Roman sway, had peaceable
possession of this part of England, and the opposite part of
France ; between, which an extensive trade, especially in
grain, the produce of this part of the country, was carried
on, and for the facilitating of which, Portsmouth appears to
have been, if not the only harbour, at least one of those
which were most frequented.
This port, with the Roman road into the interior, are al
most the only parts of the district which can be said to have
an ancient general history ; for there is little else of human
construction in it that reaches beyond the time of the Ro
mans. There are no doubt, barrows and embattled lines
in various places, and some of the eminences still retain
the name of Beacon hill, no doubt from the beacon-fires
being kindled on them to give the country notice of the
appearance or landing of an enemy. Of these beacons, the
most conspicuous one, and indeed the only one which retains
its name, is Beacon hill, the summit of which is about a
mile west of Warnford. It is very centrally situated, and
can be seen from great part of the district, and also from a

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 155
considerable portion of the country which has its general
slope northward to the upper part of the Itchen. In an
easterly direction, this hill commands the whole valley
of the Meon ; while northward, the view ranges along
all the level of the country, and to the downs near Aires-
ford and Tichborne. Old Winchester hill, with its ancient
encampment and its barrows, partially cuts off the view on
the south-east, and Portsdown conceals all the three har
bours ; but the whole southern part of the district is com
manded ; and, therefore, a signal fire lighted upon this hill,
would very speedily raise and collect to the heights, all the
strength of the county, in case of danger appearing. It is
not likely that this was a place for giving signal of an
enemy on the coast, unless, which is probable, there had
been another beacon upon Portsdown ; and though we can
have no certain evidence, the probability is, that, like most
of the other beacons, and places of alarm, or of resistance,
which occur in this part of England, the watch was kept by
the people on the coasts, against the incursions of those who
lived more inland. The battles appear to have been fought
on the line of the downs, and, generally speaking, to the
northward or westward of the places of rendezvous. Kil-
meston down, immediately north-westward of the beacon
hill of Warnford, appears to have been the scene of some
severe struggles ; for there is a succession of barrows, ex
tending over a distance of more than a mile from east to
west, with some straggling ones, as though the battle had
raged over a considerable extent.
In further proof that the lines of defence, and other works
which show some slight knowledge of the art of war, were
constructed by the people who held the lands towards the
coast, we find that there are no such defences along the
south side of the downs, as if any armed force, coming
from that direction, had been attempted to be repelled here.
In the eastern part, also, there are no lines on the north of
the summit which are now visible or at least conspicuous ;
but when we come westward to about Longwood warren,
x 2

156 SOUTHERN SLOPE — HISTORICAL
traces of ancient fortifications are abundant ; and so they are
upon that part of Twyford down, where the ancient Roman
way, and the modern road to Portsmouth from Winches
ter, get upon the heights. In some places, however, upon
these downs, it is not very easy to distinguish between an
cient tracts and channels worn by the winter rains, and some
of the ruder lines of ancient fortification. Wherever the
slope of the country is gentle, and a long extent of it can be
commanded from the heights, there is seldom any fortifica
tion ; because, in such situations, the people could see an
enemy, and be prepared for his reception before he came so
near as to do any injury ; but wherever there is a deep dell,
there is generally a line of defence carried round the upper
part of it ; and this occurs in situations where, from present
appearances, such works are much less needed, than in
other places where there are none. But in matters of this
kind, we must not be deceived by present appearances ; be
cause those dells which are now bare, except of grass or corn
as may be, were probably, indeed we may say certainly,
covered with thick woods in the early times ; and the ene
my could of course approach to the very margin of this cover
quite unobserved. Hence the necessity of artificial defences,
in those very places which now appear to have the best natu
ral ones.
The position in which we, in this part of Hampshire, inva
riably find the forts and lines of defence in reference to the
surface of the county, confirms the statements that the colo
nists, who took possession along the coast, and worked their
way gradually into the interior, were a more civilised, domes
ticated, and wealthy people, than those whom they had dis
placed, — that they had fixed habitations, and cultivated fields,
and flocks, which excited the cupidity of the more savage
inlanders, and tempted them to be continually on the watch,
in order to pass the downs, and plunder the fields and neigh
bours. This is not only established by the position of the
remains of the defences, and by the fact that the people of
the coast carried on a considerable trade with Gaul, the

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 157
merchants of which frequently visited England in order to
transact business ; but it is in strict accordance with what
was very common in Ireland and in Scotland, down to times
comparatively recent. The English proprietors within the
Pale, were very generally obliged to buy forbearance from
the Irish without, by paying " Black Mail " to the chiefs ;
and the same was the case with those along the border of
the Scotch Highlands, down almost to the middle of the last
century. It is thus that when we carefully compare the physi
cal conditions of countries, and the relations of classes of
people in different ones, who are similarly situated with re
gard to each other, we obtain the knowledge of a general
principle, which we can afterwards apply without the labour
of an original investigation.
This part of Hampshire was for a very long time a sort
of " Black Mail " country ; or, at all events, there was within
the centre of it, a pretty considerable tract of country, which
without being of much benefit to any one, was the cause of
much local demoralisation, and of no little mischief and an
noyance to the peaceable part of the inhabitants. This was
the Forest of Bere, to the situation and soil of which we
have already slightly alluded in a former chapter, but which
deserves a more particular notice than was then given. The
passion which the kings, nobles, and more influential clergy
of England, had for forests and the chace, especially in the
Norman times, was perhaps natural enough in them ; but it
is a system which is obviously inconsistent with anything
like civilised society ; and from the proximity of the forests to
the south coast, — which have been long notorious for smug
gling, and which most demoralising practice perhaps no ac
tivity of the coast-guard can put down, but which will thus
continue a most effective means of corrupting the people,
until some administration shall have the wisdom to reduce
the duties on articles now smuggled to a reasonable rate, and
thus obtain a much larger revenue from the fair trade, save
all the present expence, and abate the nuisance of smug
gling, in the only way in which it can be thoroughly abated, —

158 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
the New Forest and this forest of Bere are both admi
rably fitted for affording hiding-places, where the smuggled
articles can be stowed away, thence to be afterwards dis
tributed over the country as occasion may offer.
It is not, however, with the cover which these forests
afford to smuggling and smugglers, that we have to deal in
the present instance. It is with the effect of them as forests,
or rather, with the forest of Bere viewed in that light.
At one time, this forest of Bere appears to have extended
over a large surface, — say about eleven miles in length by
three in average breadth ; but for a long time it has been
diminishing. No William the Conqueror can be accused,
falsely or otherwise, of having desecrated churches by the
dozen, and dismissed people by the score, in order that he
might drive the deer with hound and horn in this forest.
On the contrary, there is not now a single church in the
whole extent of it, nor are there the least indications of one
ever having been there. There are some, both on the south
and the north ; but these are far apart from each other, as
compared with what occurs in those districts of Hampshire
which had any considerable population in the early times.
This forest was never, at least for many years, entirely a
royal forest ; but consisted of a number of purlieus, making
up the east walk and the west walk, as they were called ;
and amounting altogether, about the end of the seventeenth
century, to some 16,000 acres, of which great part has since
been enclosed. In each of the walks, the crown had a
demesne, and the royal deer were free of the whole forest,
as well as the deer belonging to the proprietors of the pur
lieus. Besides this, the inhabitants of the neighbouring
parishes had the privilege of pasturing cattle, but not sheep,
all the year round ; and this privilege very naturally led the
said people, or any body in short, to add liberty to privilege,
and take possession of the forest lands, build hovels upon
them, scratch little spots for a kind of crop, and trust to
the forest and the surrounding country for all the rest. The
result of all this was, that, notwithstanding the array of

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS.

159

warden, verderers, master-keepers, under-keepers, regarders,
agisters, cum multus aliis, the forest was worth nothing to
the crown ; and, except such portions as were enclosed and
cultivated, it was of little value to anybody. Some idea
may be formed of the profit made by the exchequer, or the
privy purse, or whatever else was the receptacle of the
proceeds, from the statement of the report made in 1792,
which bore that, though apparently an accumulation of
timber which had been going on, assisted by artificial
means, for eighty or ninety years, the rent per acre, after
paying the high-sounding establishment, most of whom were
proprietors of purlieus, amounted to the sum of one shilling
per acre annually; while the adjoining land let on an
average at ten shillings, and the cultivators made a profit
after that. Such were the returns in money value from
the royal demesnes in the forest of Bere. Just to show the
difference between this royal forest, in a fine climate and
producing oaks, and a piece of wild moor in the north of
Scotland, which had been planted by the proprietor, and
had cost nothing for an establishment, the return, when the
Scotch firs were cut down in 1807, we believe amounted to
one guinea an acre, allowing interest on the outlay, whereas,
were interest charged on the outlay in the case of the royal
portion of Bere forest,. the yearly return would be reduced
to something less than a penny an acre. Notwithstanding
this, the royal venison eaters did not get fat upon haunch
and pasty during the period alluded to ; for the report goes
on to state, " the crown has an unlimited right of keeping
deer on 16,000 acres, and to be supplied with venison
without stint ; yet the stock (200) is hardly equal to a
private park, and none are supplied from thence for the use
of the royal household ; nor indeed is the venison worth
having for nothing, being so bad that it is scarcely fit to eat
at all."
It will not for a moment be supposed that the real
produce of the forest, even allowing for the expense of the
cumbrous, unnecessary, and absurd establishment, was not

160 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
much greater than this ; because it is not possible that an
acre of oak forest, in the south of Hampshire can fail in
being at least twice as valuable as an acre of Scotch fir in
Invernesshire. But it should seem that the timber, the
land, and the deer, were considered and made free booty,
without the slightest hesitation or feeling of wrong done ;
and, independently of the loss, it was here that the demora
lising effect was so very great. The sprays and suckers
were taken indiscriminately by the people of all the neigh
bouring country ; and as they were taken without the slight
est regard to the preservation of a succession, the growth of
trees was effectually prevented. Then, partially on the royal
demesnes, but much more on the private purlieus, the
worthless from all parts of the country came and established
themselves, constructing miserable huts in concealed places,
and living in a state of the utmost misery and depravity.
There was scarcely a vice of which demi-savages can be
guilty which these free-booters of the forest did not per
petrate; and not a hen-roost, or even a house, within a
night's journey backwards and forwards, was secure against
their depredations, which depredations, by some strange
neglect, went for a long time unpunished ; and as, among
the uneducated, vice has only to be daring enough to be
admired and imitated, the baneful example of these bush
rangers spread rapidly over the neighbourhood.
This rose to its height in the early part of the eighteenth
century, during which time deer-stealing became the most
fashionable, and locally the most honourable and honoured,
trade in the district ; and to deer-stealing all the other vices
of the poacher were added as matter of course. They by
no means contented themselves with the forest and what it
afforded, but waged indiscriminate war upon forest and flood,
field and farm-yard, carrying on their depredations vi et armis,
to the terror, as well as the loss, of all who did not belong
to their unholy fraternity. That their persons might be
less easily known, in case justice should awaken from its
supineness, they blackened their faces when they went out

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 161
upon their forays ; and as Bishop's Waltham was, nominally
at least, their capital and head-quarters, they were denomi
nated the "Waltham Blacks," though they styled them
selves the " Waltham Hunters," as a more honourable ap
pellation. So honourable in their own estimation, and so
powerful in reality, did they become, that no young man in
the neighbourhood could appear in public, without the brand
of being cowardly and mean-spirited, if he was not recog
nised as a " Hunter" ; and they even carried matters so far as
to demand "Black Mail," or, in other words, to sell a protec
tion to any one who wished to preserve his warren, his
fish-pond, or any other place where game of any description;
was to be had. It may seem somewhat singular that the
local authorities did not interfere in the early stage, and put
this down ; but it is a pretty general fact, though not easily
accounted for, that the local authorities never can succeed
in putting dqwn any similar breach of the law, after it has
taken root in the minds of the people, and a certain -degree
of eclat has been attached to it. Perhaps we should acquit
the authorities of any connivance or collusion, and suppose;
that the fear of retaliation upon themselves personally, or
upon those or that in which they are interested, restrains
them. But, whatever may be the cause, they never succeed
in such cases, and they make the attempt with very palpable
reluctance. In this case, the magistrates pretended that the
offences which were committed were against forest law, and
not against the king's peace ; and upon this plea they
declined to interfere. Thus the matter went on, until, in
1723, it led to the enactment of the sanguinary statute:
known by the name of the Black Act, — and it is truly one
of the very blackest in the statute book, dark-visaged as
many others are. As it unfortunately happens, the people
sympathise with the perpetrators of crimes against the
excise and customs laws and the game laws, after the com
mission of such crimes has become common ; and thus the
severity of the law did not either bring all the offenders to
justice, or put an end to the practice. But the location of
VOL. II. Y

162 SOUTHERN SLOPE.  HISTORICAL
the houseless within the purlieus, the plundering of the
timber, and the almost total extinction of the deer, turned
out to be more certain means of abolishing the iniquity,
the immoral effects of which continued for a long time.
Some of the means which the " Hunters " and the settlers
in the forest adopted for the procuring of game, were emi
nently fitted for the accomplishment of this purpose. They
prowled about in quest of the calves at the time when they
were dropped, and having found them, they shaved off the
hoofs, so that they were unable to walk; and then, after
they had been suckled for a time, returned to the same lairs,
and bore them off as prizes. It is doubtful whether there
is any royal forest, or any extensive wild, chace, or preserve,
which does not produce some moral evil to the neighbouring
population; but perhaps there is none in England which
has done so much mischief of this kind as the forest of
Bere, and none which has been more worthless to the pro
prietors. There remains only one other subject of a ge
neral nature to be noticed, with reference to the southern
slope of Hampshire. This is the royal arsenal, and other
government establishments at Portsmouth ; but as they are
not characteristic of the district in any way, other than being
situated in it, we shall defer them to another chapter, and
proceed with the local details, of which we need give only
very short notices.
In treating of the details, that is, in noticing the towns*
parishes, and places of importance, there is some little diffi
culty in selecting an arrangement of the sub-divisions which
shall be clear and at the same time natural. After some
consideration, we have adopted a sort of sub-division into six
sections. First, the places on the Hamble, from the summits
of Twyford down and Longwood warren, to the confluence
of the Hamble with the Southampton Water ; secondly, the
valley of the Titchfield river, from the sources between But
ser and Old Winchester hills, to the confluence with the So
lent ; thirdly, from the ridge of Butser hill, to the centre of
the forest of Bere, southward ; fourthly, the plains between

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 163
the remains of that forest and Portsdown ; fifthly, the borders
of Sussex from the summit of the ridge of the downs, to
Havant and Emsworth, including Hayling island ; and
sixthly, Portsea island, and the other places to the south of
Portsdown, including Gosport and some of the adjacent
places. These are very unequal in size, and lie in rather a
confused order; but they have some sort of natural bounda
ries, by means of which they can be referred to the map as
a general index of positions.
1. The Hamble. For some miles to the south of the sum
mit of Twyford down and Longwood warren, the surface is
very bare, and there is scarcely a tree or a human habitation
to be seen. The summit of the downs is flat, with short
grass, and forms a very healthy, though by no means a rich
sheep-walk. This summit commands most extensive and
beautiful views ; and it is much frequented for rural sports
in the summer; but in winter it is very bleak. For a consi
derable distance, both south and east, there is little soil over
chalk ; but after a space, that begins to be covered with a
thin coating of mud, clay, or marly sand ; but the chalk is
again at the surface on the heights, to the south of the first
descent. The descent from the chalk downs to the clay, and
gravel, and loam, is by no means in an uniform inclined
plane ; but by a number of hollows and ridges, the former
penetrating a considerable way into the downs in some
places, and the latter running into the low grounds in others.
There is not a vestage of running water for several miles
to the southward of the downs, and the few trees that make
their appearance, are yews, junipers, and hawthorns, equally
remarkable for their diminutive size and the slight alteration
of their appearance from year to year. The first place of
any note that one meets, is the small church of Morested
about three miles south-east of Winchester, on the road to
Bishop's Waltham. It is rather on the western slope, and
thus properly speaking, in the valley of the Itchen ; but the
upper parts of the hollows overlap each other here, that it
is not easy to say which way the actual inclination is.: — This
y 2

164 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
and the two following parishes have already been slightly
noticed in the description of the Eastern Downs. South of
Morestead there is another high and naked down, to the
south of which there is a pleasant valley, finely sheltered by
heights from the north and east, and containing Longwood
park, a seat of the earl of Northesk. There are some rich
fields and judiciously arranged plantations in the neighbour
hood, and the surface is varied by a constant succession of
hill and dale.
Owslebury, about two miles south of Morestead, is a much
larger parish, but the living is only a curacy, in conjunction
with the rectory of Twyford, the next parish on the west.
The village of Owslebury is long and straggling; and the
surrounding surface is considerably diversified by downs and
plantations of timber. The soil is also very varied, being
thin chalk in some places, and varying in others from that
to stiff clay.
Upham, the next parish to the southward is almost equi
distant between Owslebury and Bishop's Waltham, and about
two miles and a half from each. As the name implies it is
partly on the heights. This parish has deserved some literary
name, from being the birth-place of Young, the author of the
Night Thoughts, tragedies, satires, and other poems. Young
was a genuine poet ; and there are some as fine conceptions
in his writings, especially in the Night Thoughts as are any
where to be met with ; but many of his figures are strained
to excess ; and they are sometimes hard and out of nature.
His satires are often keen and biting, but they are apt, to show
the disappointed pride of the author so prominently as to take
off no inconsiderable part of the effect which they would
have produced, if the doctor had maintained his temper, and
kept himself a little more in the back ground. The same
fault pervades the Night Thoughts, which, if it had not been
for the perpetual recurrence of selfish allusions, would cer
tainly have been one of the best poems without a principal
subject, in the English language. Some of his creations, or
imaginations would be truly sublime, were it not that they are

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 165
sometimes broken, and sometimes by far too quaint. His en
quiries as to what goes on among the stars, are very apt to
send one for answers to the learned confabulations between
Hudibras and Sidrophel. The passions of his dramatic cha
racters are powerfully delineated, but they are not human.
Notwithstanding these minor faults, Dr. Young was a great
man ; and the divinity of his writings is sound, and the mo
rality excellent. He was born at the rectory of this parish
in 1681, and died in 1765 at the advanced age of 84, having
out-lived, by several years, all the literary companions of his
earlier days, and from family bereavements, having been left
almost alone at the close of his life.
If we take the most elevated summit of the downs, namely
from Twyford down south-eastward to the Beacon hill at
Warnford, there is no parish church or parish village on the
south side, nor are there many habitations of any kind until
one arrives at the market town of Bishop's Waltham. This
town is situated in rather a pleasant valley by the side of a
little stream of water, the infant Hamble, which river indeed
never attains much size until it reaches the estuary, which
maybe said to commence at Botley, farther down, where the
navigation ends. The ground from Bishop's Waltham to
the summit of the high downs is of the same diversified
character as that of the parishes last noticed — that is to say,
it consists of naked grounds and commons, interspersed with
clumps of wood, and sheltered dells and hollows, some of
the last containing strong and rich land. The trees too, are
in some places fine and healthy in their vegetation, and less
gnarly and covered with lichen then they are upon the hills
more exposed to the south-west winds ; and were it not that
there is a paucity of water, some spots between Waltham and
the high downs, would furnish an artist with sweet little sub
jects for his pencil.
The line of the high downs to which we have referred as
terminating at Beacon hill by Warnford, is considerably the
highest, at least taken upon the whole, between this natural
district and the upper valley of the Itchen. But though the

166 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
highest, it is difficult to say, whether, after one passes to the
eastward of Longwood warren and Gander down, it be the
summit level. The chalk heights here, diverge from the
great mass on the south-east of the vale of Chilcomb, as
from a central plateau — a point at which the chalk had been
upheaved in mass, and sustained in mass when the valleys
eastward and westward were depressed. We have heard it
stated that, in this neighbourhood, the chalk rests im
mediately upon the upper oolite without the intervention of
any green sand; and it is not improbable that this may
be pretty generally the case where the chalk appears in
masses, as the oolitic beds form of course a more solid basis
for it than the sand does ; and it is probable that, where the
ridges of chalk break off from the plateau, the sand may be
always found under them. Be that as it may, there has been
a division into three parts from these downs eastward. One
branch trends north-east, and with various degrees of eleva
tion, passes by the southward of Alresford, until it reaches
Var down, only it is disrupted where the southern branch of
the Itchen finds its way northward, from what has probably
been the bed of a lake, extending southward and eastward
by Cheriton and Bramdean, and inosculating at its upper
extremity with the valley of Meon, and the passage through
the eastern chalk-hills to the amphitheatre of Petersfield.
The central ridge passes eastward, by Hinton Ampner, and
forms the northern boundary of the valley of MeOn, to the
eastward of Warnford. Its elevation is nowhere considerable,
it is interrupted at some places, and generally speaking, it
admits of profitable culture to the very top. This is what
may be called a plain part of the county, that is, it has no
bold features, but still the surface is agreeably, though
gently, diversified with swells and hollows. On the north,
the ground rises very gently toward the heights that pass
into the northern part of the county at Windmill hill, and
north-east it runs toward Tisted common and Var down, a
large extent, being seen from the height at Hinton Amptner.
From the elevated situation and the general openness of the

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS 167
country, the winters are cold and frequently rainy ; but in
summer, the climate is healthy and agreeable. Open com
mons are neither numerous nor extensive ; but there is a
considerable extent of copse and planting tastefully spotted
about, which adds greatly to the beauty and interest of the
landscape. The parish of Tisted lies in the extreme north
east, upon the confines of that district which we have
already noticed under the title of the eastern slope of the
county, The population of the parish of West Tisted is
264, and the rental about 1400/., Magdalen College, Oxford,
having the patronage of the living, The extent of parishes
in this part of Hampshire must not, however, be judged of
from the estimated rental or population ; for. along the ridge
here the air is very bleak, and in the winter season the
roads are difficult. Basing park, about a mile north-east of
the church of Privet, is the largest demesne in these parts ;
and to the north-east of it, there is a considerable extent of
open down.
Bramdean has a smaller rental and less numerous popu
lation than the above parish ; but the situation is pleasant,
and there are more genteel residences spotted about in the
straggling village than are usually to be seen in places of
such rural character. The high-road from Winchester to
Petersfield lies through the bottom of the valley, and the villas
and cottages are situated along the sides of the road, from
which the surface rises both to the north and the south.
The church stands upon the brow of the hill to the south
ward, partly enclosed among trees, and it contrasts finely
with a modern villa on the left, and a rustic farm-yard on
the right. It is a small edifice of ancient but unknown
date, consisting of an aisle and chancel. It has recently
been repaired and decorated internally in a very, tasteful and
appropriate manner, by the present rector (1839), the Rev.
Charles Walters. He has had the ceiling of the aisle raised,
and an organ gallery constructed against the western wall; he
has also had the altar modelled in the gothic style, the whole
interior of the chancel painted after the fashion of the old

168 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
Norman frescoes, and the passage from the aisle to the
chancel broken off by a light screen; so that, taking it
altogether, it is one of the neatest and most appropriate
small rural churches in the kingdom, and reflects great
credit on the liberality and refined taste of the rector ; whose
example in this, as in many other respects, would, if gene
rally followed by the incumbents of other parishes, tend
greatly to endear the people to the church, and thus be
equally conducive to the interests of religion and morality.
Mr, Walters has also an excellent library, an observatory,
and philosophical apparatus ; and has given a tone to the
neighbourhood which one seldom has the pleasure of finding
in rural places. The consequence is, that there are many
families of superior taste in the neighbourhood, and the vale
of Bramdean has a society of its own. The prospect of the
valley, as seen from the church, is very beautiful ; and the
dispersal of the villas and cottages over a considerable space,
gives them an air of repose far more in character with the
scene than if they were huddled together in one spot.
The situation of Hinton Amptner, which lies about a
mile south-west of Bramdean, is more elevated, and the
parish is more extensive and wealthy. There is much good
land in the parish, which, like the others in this part of the
county, has its surface a good deal varied by plantations.
Kilmeston, which is situated to the south of Hinton Ampt
ner, lies more on the elevated part of the downs, and a con
siderable portion of the surface is not under culture. These
two parishes, as also Bramdean, have been already mention
ed in the description of the southern branch of the Itchen,
but are necessarily again referred to here.
From Kilmeston down and Beacon hill, the downs con
tinue southward, between the valley of the river at Warn
ford and Corhampton on the east and the upper part of
the valley of the Hamble on the west, while another branch
extends southward on the west side of the latter, and con
tinues its elevation as far to the southward as Bishop's
Waltham. There are considerable diversities of surface

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169

line, and some extent of plantation or copse, but no village
of any consequence, until we arrive at the market town of
Bishop's Waltham.*
* There is, in the parish of Bramdean, a field of much interest to the
antiquary. This field lies about a quarter-of-a-mile to the north-east of
the manor-house of Woodcote, upon the top of one of those gently swell
ing eminences which are so common in this part of Hampshire. As is the
case with all the elevated fields in this part of the country, it is very thickly
strewed with flints, and fragments of Roman bricks are almost as nume
rous ; and there are also many pieces of thin stone, such as the Romans
used for bonding corners ; or as the Saxons and early Normans are sup
posed to have used for roofing. These remains of ancient architecture
are rarely found out of the one field which has, from time immemorial,
been called " gaol field ;" but they are so plentiful on it, as to show that
there, the work of demolition has been considerable. In the eastern part
of the field there is a Roman pavement, in a state of tolerable preservation.
It consists of a rectangular floor, about 75 feet long, and 27 feet broad,
with a square of 24 feet projecting southward from the western part of it.
The first room in the east has a plain floor of small square bricks ; the
second, is surrounded by three feet of the same pavement, and within this
there is a tessellated pattern, with a Gorgon's head in the middle, and eight
compartments, which have had emblematical busts. Mercury and Pallas
can still be traced, but the others are very much faded. To the westward
of this, there is a narrow apartment, a large one, and another narrow one,
all with plain floors, and the last so far broken down as to show the
arched passage by which the room to the south has been heated by fire in
this one. From the arch of entrance, the heated air has been led in
arched passages all under the floor, and thence up the walls in flues, con
structed of a succession of single-brick tubes of rectangular section, but
very broad in proportion to their depth, and thus well-constructed for the
economy of heat. The arches below have given way, so that the floor of
this apartment has sunk down in many places ; but still it is the most per
fect of the whole. The centre, within a very elegant border, contains two
athleta, probably Hercules and Antaeus, wrestling, with Minerva looking
on ; and the time of action appears to be that at which the crafty goddess
gave the demigod a hint, as to how he might overcome the mere mortal ;
for Hercules has just got the feet of his antagonist off the ground, and is
giving him a more than Cornish hug. Busts and other figures fill up the
space between the centre and the external circle of the pattern ; and the
dolphins, lavatories, and other emblems in the corners and margin, lead
one to suppose that this may have been a bath, which is further con
firmed by the flues, which are on all sides of this apartment, and not in
any of the others. The floors of the apartments are of unequal elevation,
— the ornamented ones being, in general, lower than the others. The
walls are in tolerable preservation to the height of about a foot above the
pavements. They are composed of flints and mortar, and stuccoed ; and
they have been painted in fresco, but no part of any figure remains in the
fragments. This is a most interesting remain of antiquity ; and it reflects
the highest honour upon the lord of the manor and proprietor, Mr. Green
wood of Brookwood, one of the most extensive landholders in this part of
VOL. II. 7,

170 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
Bishop's Waltham is a pleasantly situated country
town ; but it probably has not the same relative importance
as when it was a country residence of the princely bishops
of Winchester in the middle ages. Waltham literally
means "weald hame," the home in the wood, forest, or
chace ; and it is not improbable that, in the early times, a
very considerable portion of the surrounding district had
this character. The soil is still favourable for the growth
of timber, and there are some fine trees in the vicinity of
the town, — within a mile and a half of the east of which
Waltham chace commences, which chace used, to be the
especial hunting-ground of the bishops ; and, as these exalted
personages were very generally of a militant, or even a
military character, it is most likely that they preferred " the
princely art of venerie " to devotion ; and that the horn in
Waltham chace called them to the matins as often as the
bell at Winchester — especially at that season when the bucks
of the olden time were " in pride of grease." This was all
as it should have been ; for, if it was the fashion of the time
that priests should be princes, it behoved them to demean
themselves as such.
The ruins of the bishop's palace, a very considerable por
tion of which still remains, show how splendid the hunting-
seat of those prelates must have been in the days of their
power and its glory. It had occupied a very beautiful
situation, on a bank of rich land, on the left side of the
little river, and immediately on the south-west of the present
town. The river, or rather rivulet, — for the quantity of run
ning water is very small here, was embanked, and still
forms a fine sheet of water, seen across which, the ruined
palace, and the quiet and thriving modern town, afford a
the county, that he has had the whole preserved in situ, instead of carry
ing it off, as a man of more cupidity and vaiiity, and less refined taste,
would have done. Mr. Greenwood has had the whole enclosed in a sub
stantial building, the key to which may be obtained at the manor house of
Woodcote, by any one who is known, or otherwise properly recommended ;
and as there is no fee, no cicerone, and no attendant, the visitor is left to
the unbroken flow of his meditations upon times now gone by, and on the
frail and fleeting nature of the glory of man.

3IS

3 ^

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS.

171

striking contrast, but withal a pleasing picture. The palace,
according to the accounts, was first founded by Bishop
Henry de Blois, the brother of King Stephen, and one of
the most militant and castle-building of all the great bishops
— as the ruins of Wolvesey and the heaps at Merdon still
demonstrate ; but the precise date is not known, neither is
it a point of much consequence. In all probability it was
about the middle of the twelfth century ; and at that time it
was no doubt a place of strength, and the lodge a castle
keep. It is also likely that the rivulet was embanked,
and the pond made, in order to furnish a supply of water for
the moats. It does not appear to have been a general or
favourite residence, until the time of Wykeham, who repaired
and re-built it — in accordance with that splendid architectural
taste which had first obtained for him the patronage of the
king ; and ultimately, through that, the see of Winchester.
It is said, indeed, that the outer court, now converted into
a farm-yard, was built by Bishop Langton, and other por
tions are attributed to different prelates. It is probable,
however, that the portion which has been the most splendid,
and of which the largest remain is left, was erected by
Wykeham. This was the hall, which has been of the most
magnificent dimensions ; and was no doubt finished and fur
nished in a corresponding style. One wall remains in a
tolerably entire state, and the other parts can, in so far, be
traced. These remains indicate a length of sixty-six feet,
a breadth of twenty-seven, and a height of twenty-five.
Such dimensions are magnificent; and though we might
reasonably ascribe to others the erecting, or the procuring
to be erected, of more ramparts and moles than might have
accorded with the taste of Wykeham, who was as peaceful
as he was princely, we question whether we could find,
designed by another architect of the same period, any hall
of simple habitation so magnificent as this ; or one in which
the windows are so judiciously adapted to the size of the
apartment. These windows, as they appear in the ruin,
are five in number, of ample dimensions, with the height,
z 2

172 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
and breadth well adjusted to each other, and without the
slightest appearance that the inmate had any cause of fear.
In the latter part of his life, this was the favourite retreat
of Wykeham; and here he closed his most meritorious,
honourable, and exceedingly active life, at the advanced age
of eighty. This palace, in common with many other splen
did buildings of the olden times, was destroyed during the
civil wars, and no attempt has been since made to repair it.
In later times, the ruins have been more respected than
those of many other ancient structures, — even than those of
Wolvesey itself; which, though at one time an embattled
castle, from within which a bishop could defy the menaces
of royal armies, has been used by bishops of more recent
date, as a quarry whence to obtain materials for repairing
the highways. Though the palace is said to have been
originally built by Bishop Henry, and to have been re-built,
renovated, and demolished, at the periods we have mentioned;
yet, according to the account in Doomsday Book, it should
seem that the chace and manor of Waltham had belonged
to the bishops of Winchester, from their earliest creation;
for in the notice taken of it in that general summary of the
country, it is added, that it belonged to the bishop ; which is
a proof that, at the time when Doomsday Book was drawn
up, it had been so long in the possession of the said bishops
that the time or manner of its passing into their hands was
not then remembered. At present it remains in ruins, clad
with ivy, and the courts and park have been turned to the
most ordinary purposes of rural economy. The town of
Bishop's Waltham is not very large, though sufficiently so
for an agricultural one. In 1831, the population of the
town and parish amounted to 2181, and the rental is
estimated at 4809/. The chief occupation of the inhabitants
is in agriculture, and in the supply of ordinary shop articles
to the surrounding districts. Like some of the other country
towns in Hampshire, it has extensive manufactories of malt
— if malt-making can be called a manufacture ; and there is
also a good deal of leather tanned and prepared in the town.

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 173
The streets, though not spacious, are clean ; but, though the
population has been increasing of late years, some of the
streets afford evidence of having seen better days. Two
public thoroughfares intersect each other in Bishop's Wal
tham, — the one, the road from London to Southampton
through Alton; and the other, the road from Portsmouth
through Winchester to Salisbury and the west of England ;
but neither of these is the main or most frequented road
joining the great towns at its extremities. Bishop's Wal
tham has- a weekly market on Saturdays, at which a good
deal of corn is sold ; and it has four general markets or fairs
in the course of the year, — namely, one on the second Friday
of May, another on the thirtieth day of July, a third on the
first Friday after old Michaelmas, and a fourth on the tenth
day of October. The church, which is a venerable and ra
ther handsome structure, dedicated to St. Peter — and with the
rectory, in the gift of the bishop of Winchester — is situated
on a rising ground toward the north part of the town. There
is also a free-school, and some charities of minor importance ;
but it does not appear that any of the bishops endowed any
institution of much importance at this their ancient and
regular hunting-seat. We also find no trace of any religious
house having existed here, either for male or female devo
tees ; which seems to imply that the bishops were not partial
to the presence of monks or nuns in the immediate neigh
bourhood of their sporting lodge.
At rather more than a mile to the south of Bishop's Wal
tham, two feeders of the Hamble come in, — one from the east
and the other from the west ; and as each of these is larger
than the stream which they join, the river becomes of some
magnitude. Before these branches of the river join, the
chalk disappears from the surface, which then presents, in
different places, all the varieties of the tertiary formation,
from the most retentive clay to the loosest sand, — the last
sometimes rising into knolls, the soil upon which is exceed
ingly barren ; while the stiff clay, when it occupies any
breadth of flat surface, is apt to retain stagnant water, and
not only to be unpleasant in itself, but to render the air

174 SOUTHERN SLOPE.  HISTORICAL
unhealthy. This is most apt to be the case about the middle
distance between the chalk heights, on the north of the dis
trict, and the sandy heights, toward the Southampton Water.
There is some reason to believe that, in the early times,
a considerable extent of surface, on both sides of the river
for a few miles below Bishop's Waltham, was covered by
a close and miry forest ; for there is no house, church, or
village on the left bank in the entire course to the sea ; and
only the single parish church of Durley on "the right bank,
until Botley is arrived at. Durley has a population of 361,
and a rental of 1263/. The living is a curacy, which goes
along with the rectory of Upham, already noticed.
Botley is of some consideration as a village, although a
good deal of the land belonging to the parish is either very
poor, or consists of strong wet clay. The rental, accordingly,
is not high in proportion to the number of inhabitants, which
is 722, while the rental is only 1660/. A considerable por
tion of the inhabitants reside in the village, which has a
corn market held on a Wednesday. There is besides a
flour trade here, the mills being convenient and the river
navigable ; it has also a cattle market held on every alternate
Monday. Botley is in fact the port of the Hamble, which,
as a river, is navigable for a greater length than any other
in the county. The only remaining parishes in this natural
section are Bursledon, Hound, and Hamble. Bursledon is on
the right bank of the river, about three miles further down
than Botley. The parish is a curacy attached to the rectory
of Hound; it contains 510 inhabitants, and has a rental of
1028/. The village, which is near the bank of the river,
is very straggling and irregular ; but it is convenient for
ship-building, though nothing is regularly done in that way.
At one time some government ships of considerable burden
were built here. Hound lies about a mile further to the
westward ; and, although the population is less, the rent is
more than double. The rental is 2672, and the number of
people 417. Hamble, or Hamble-en-le-Rice, is on the right
of the mouth of the river; it has d population of 318, and
the yearly value is under 1000/. The vicarage goes along

OTLIETY.

iVmJiCter , Published for the livpnei.T. J,iJ liebbitis , College Street
Jltl II K. titlmmr. Public J.ibmru. Hwli Street

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 175
with Hound. In the estuary there is a lobster fishery. The
two parishes are, in great part, situated upon the dry and
sandy portion of part of the tertiary deposit, which forms
the sterile and naked heaths and commons, both eastward
and westward of the Hamble ; and which destroys the
natural fertility of that portion of the district which lies
immediately along the northern margin of the narrow sea
to the westward of the Titchfield river.
II. District from the valley of Meon to the
MOUTH OF THE TlTCHFIELD RIVER. This district Or
valley is more remarkable for its length than its breadth,
the latter being in most places inconsiderable. The pa
rish of East Meon occupies the upper part of this valley ;
and the rectory has the curacies of Froxfield and Steep
attached. It is a large parish, with a population of 1681,
and a rental of 8694/. The village, which is upon the
bank of the stream, is a little metropolis in its way, hav
ing a neat old church, built in the form of a cross, with
a Norman tower; and the old fount is very nearly a fac
simile of that in the cathedral of Winchester. This fount
is understood to have been presented by Bishop Walkelin,
who, as is noticed in the first volume of this work, was the
first Norman re-builder of the cathedral ; and the splendid
and substantial style of whose architecture is still perfect in
the tower and the transepts, — though the latter have been
very much disfigured by the parsimonious and tasteless
repairs of modern times. This bishop is understood to haVe
founded and built the church of East Meon. There is also
an endowed school in the village. West Meon is a smaller
parish, and situated in a place where the heights on the
north and south approach more closely to each other. It
has a population of 711, and a rental of 2186/. The curacy
of Privet is annexed to the rectory of West Meon ; these
two parishes occupy what may be termed the valley of Meon,
which, with the continuation down the river to where the
forests used to close in upon it on both sides, appears to
have been well peopled in very early times ; and it is pro
bable that some of the battles, whose scenes are marked by

176 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
the barrows upon Kilmeston down, may have been fought
in defence of the habitations and the agricultural wealth of
this valley.
Warnford, the next parish, has already been noticed as
situated at the bend where the course of the river turns to
the south, and immediately between the Beacon hill on
the west and Old Winchester hill on the south-east. This
parish has a population of 418, and a rental of 2708/. In
the garden at Warnford house, on the left bank of the river,
there are the ruins of an ancient building, of great extent.
As is often the case with buildings, the real erectors of which
are not known, this has been popularly named King John's
house, though it does not appear that King John had any
thing to do with it. Report says, that it was built, between
the years 679 and 685, by Wilfred, bishop of York, during
which period he took refuge among the West Saxons. If
so, this is one of the oldest ruins in England. That Wilfred
should have built a mansion of the dimensions which the
ruins indicate, during his sojourn of six years in this part
of the country is not probable; and though he had, it is
not likely that the same structure would have remained
during nearly 1200 years. From some ancient inscriptions,
it would appear that Wilfred founded the church of Warn
ford ; and that the same was renovated by the celebrated
Adam de Port, sometime in the twelfth Century. De Port
was one of the most powerful barons in this part of England,
in the reigns of Henry II, of Richard, and of John; and
though Warnford may not have been his principal residence
— for the De Ports had many manors in the country from
the time of the Conquest — it certainly was one of them ; but
whether the ruins be those of a building erected by De Port
or by some one else, it is impossible to say. It does, how
ever, appear to be Norman, for the arches of the windows
are circular ; and it is by much too old for the modern
introduction of that form. The part that remains is about
84 feet long, and 54 wide, with walls^ of flints and hard
mortar, about four feet thick. It has consisted of two apart
ments, — a larger in the east end and a smaller in the west.

AND topographical details. 177
It appears to have had an arched roof, supported by pillars,
and a painted one once. The form does not answer to that
of a church ; and the probability is, that it may have been
a banqueting hall ; but conjectures respecting it are of little
avail. In a land of ruined castles this would not meet with
much notice.
Below Warnford, the three parish churches of Corhamp
ton, Exton, and Meon Stoke, are situated within little more
than half-a-mile of each other, — in fact the villages of Cor
hampton and Meon Stoke are almost continuations of one
village. Exton contains 283 inhabitants, and has a rental
of 2146/. ; Corhampton has 125 people, with a rental of
1293 /. ; and Meon Stoke has a rental of 1234/. ; and 382
inhabitants. Thus, all the three parishes taken together
have neither so many inhabitants, nor so large a rental as
the single parish of East Meon. Corhampton is a curacy,
but Exton and Meon Stoke are rectories, with the curacy of
Soberton annexed to the latter. Soberton is an extensive
parish, with a rental of 3308/., and a .population of 951.
Droxford, on the opposite bank of the river — the right bank,
and about midway between Meon Stoke and Soberton, is
much more populous than either of the others, but the rental
is smaller. It contains 1620 people, and the rental is only
2268/., which is more like a town rental than one in a
country parish. The living is a rectory and the bishop of
Winchester is patron.
Below Droxford, the remain of the forest of Bere ap
proaches the river on the left, and Waltham chase approaches
it on the east ; there are accordingly no churches or other
ancient establishments, till we come to Wickham, which is
a large and populous parish, with 1106 inhabitants, and a
rental of 4578/. The village is of considerable extent, situ
ated on the high road from Winchester to Gosport, and near
where the Roman road passed. It has been a place of
some note from remote times, has an annual fair in May,
and courts leet and baron every year. It derives its chief
celebrity, however, from being the native place of William
VOL. II. a a

178 SOUTHERN SLOPE — HISTORICAL
of Wykeham, who was born here in 1324. This very illus
trious man was the son of parents in a humble station of
life. His father's name was John Long, and his mother's
Christian name Sibil or Sybil. His manners and talents
when a boy, attracted the attention of Nicholas Uvedale,
the then lord of the manor of Wickham, by whom he was
sent to school at Winchester, then one of the best semina
ries in the country ; and from Winchester, the same gentle
man sent him to Oxford, After he had been there for six
years, he was recalled by Mr. Uvedale, who was at that
time constable of Winchester castle, and to whom he acted
as secretary. Bishop Edington employed him in the same
capacity, and ultimately obtained permission to have him en
tirely in his service. His principal forte appears to have been
architecture and mechanics ; and when Edward III visited
Winchester, he gave Wykeham a patent as surveyor of the
royal castles and other buildings ; and parts of Dover, Wind
sor, and several other castles were built under his superin
tendence. From this situation, while yet comparatively a
young man, he successively rose to the offices of secreta
ry of state, keeper of the privy seal, and chancellor ; and
he became bishop of Winchester on the 10th of October,
1367. The situations which Wykeham held, enabled him
to accumulate great wealth, though he does not appear to
have been in any way fond of property, ,and his munificence
was very great. All his relations appear to have adopted
his assumed name of Wykeham, with the same avidity that
the Celts of the Scotch Highlands adopted the names of
the Norse adventurers that landed on their shores. Wyke
ham found all the ecclesiastical buildings in a state of di
lapidation ; and instantly took the most vigorous measures
for having them repaired or re-built. Scarcely any man
ever led so active a life ; and he was equally splendid and
successful in all his undertakings, which were probably on
a more extensive scale, according to the fashion of the times,
than were ever planned and carried into execution by any
other man in England. There is no evidence that he ever

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 179
oppressed any human being, or ever extorted a single penny
from any man. On the contrary, he was kind and gene
rous in the extreme ; and appeared ready to improve the
condition of the people by every means that a mind of the
most enlarged capacity could devise. There were few spots
in the diocese which did not in some way profit by his
bounty ; and at his death, the legacies he left as tokens of
regard, showed how large the circle of his friends was, and
how much he was attached to them. His most conspicu
ous memorials, are his colleges at Winchester and Oxford ;
but these, though the most splendid, are only two out of
very many. One thing is worthy of notice in the splendid
career of Wykeham : from the time that the boy attracted
the attention of Uvedale, to that at which the great bishop
of Winchester resigned his spirit, on Saturday, the 27th of
September, 1404, it does not appear that he solicited any
one step of the innumerable preferments which were heaped
upon him ; or that he, upon any one occasion, played the
courtier. His talents appear to have commanded and con
trolled everything; and he seems to have got all his ap
pointments from no other cause than that he was better
qualified than any other man for discharging, with honour
to himself and with the best advantage to individuals and to
his country, each and every duty to the performance of
which he was appointed. Though he had filled the highest
and most confidential situations in the service of the king,
it does not appear that he was, in any way, a worshipper of
royalty ; and though he held so high an office in the church,
he was so far from having any dependance on the patronage
of the Pope, that he stood manfully up for the rights of the
Church of England, when they were menaced from that
quarter. Take him in all the phases of his most active
character, and the conclusion at which one arrives is, that
there have been few men equal to William of Wykeham,
and none superior to him ; so that the village in which he
was born, and which he honoured by adopting its name as
a a 2

180 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
his own, will continue to be proud of his memory. But
while we attempt — no man can fully succeed — to do justice
to Wykeham, we must not forget Nicholas Uvedale ; but for
whom the great talents of Wykeham might have been lost
to the world. *
Below Wickham, the only other place of note on the
banks of this river is Titchfield, within about two miles
of the sea. Titchfield is a market-town, the market
being held every Friday, and there are four fairs in the
course of the year. The population is 3742, and the rental
12,017/., which for a tovrn is a high rental in proportion
to the population. The town, for the number of inha
bitants, is not large; but it is neat, and there are many
respectable people residentin.it. It is not, in strict lan
guage, a sea-port, but vessels of small burden can ascend
the entrance of the river. That this is a pleasant spot may
be inferred from the fact that an abbey for Premonstratensi-
um canons was founded here in 1231, by Rupibus, bishop
of Winchester. This abbey remained till the dissolution,
after which time, it was given by Henry VIII to Sir Tho
mas Wraithesly, his secretary, who was afterwards called
baron of Titchfield. By him the abbey was demolished, and
the material employed in building Titchfield house upon the
same site ; and the house has in its turn become a ruin.
This house has some name in history from being the place
in which Charles I was concealed after his flight from Hamp
ton court in 1647 ; and it was from hence that he was car
ried by Colonel Hammond and others to the Isle of Wight.
The chapelry of Crofton lies to the left of the river, between
Titchfield and the sea. It is a curacy included in the parish
of Titchfield, the rector of which has the appointment of the
curate. The land in this part of the district is comparatively
flat; and though there care clumps of planted trees there,
the quantity of wood is not great. The soil is in general
fertile ; and, from the small elevation of the surface and its
proximity to the sea, the climate is favourable for the growth
of vegetables.

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AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 181
III. Between Portsdown and the forest of Bere.
This section, as formerly noticed, is about six miles in length
and two or three in breadth. It contains the parishes of
Boarhunt, Southwick, and Widley. Its surface has a gen
tle slope from east to west ; and the small river which falls
into the creek of Portsmouth harbour, meanders westward
and nearly along the centre of it. Boarhunt, the most west
erly of the three parishes, lies partly on the north-western
slope of Portsdown ; and the surface is in many parts bare.
The population is 255, and the rental 1744/. The village,
which is small, is about two miles north-east of Fareham.
Southwick parish is much larger, and more populous ; the
rental being 4602/., and the population 723. It has also
some note or name in history. A priory of black canons
was founded here in the reign of Henry I. The same ca
nons had been previously established at Porchester; but
they were transferred to Southwick, where they continued till
the abolition. The priory was in a fine rural situation ; and,
from the freedom of forests and other means of keeping a
good larder, which the brethren enjoyed, their abode became
a favourite resort for pious pilgrims : and Henry VI was here
married to Margaret of Anjou. At the dissolution, the priory
and manor passed to John White, Esq., whose monument
still remains in the church; and after, it belonged to the Nor
ton family, and was the seat of the brave Colonel Norton, in
the time of the civil war. Charles I was at Southwick when
Felton stabbed his favourite Buckingham at Portsmouth ;
upon hearing of which, the gallant monarch instantly return
ed to London. The publicans in this place are exempted from
having soldiers billeted upon them, which exemption appears
to have been handed down from the time of the monks, whose
charter gave them plenery exemption from all kinds of mo
lestation. Widley, " the wooded place," in part still merits
the name, as there is a great deal of timber both in this and
the adjoining part of Southwick ; and there seems no reason
to doubt that, when the forest was at the full extent, timber
was more plentiful in all the places adjoining. Widley con-

182 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
tains a population of 512, and the rental is 2347/. The
rectory is held jointly with that of Wymering on the south
side of the Portsdown ridge. Purbrook, on the Portsmouth
road, is the largest village in this parish.
IV. North of the forest of Bere. This section,
taken eastward to the summit-level from Portsdown to But
ser hill, which does not vary much from the line of the road to
Petersfield, is nearly a square of about five miles in the side ;
and it contains the three parishes of Hambledon, Clanfield,
and Catherington. Hambledon is a large parish, containing
between 7000 and 8000 acres of surface, in which there is
a considerable breadth of sheep down and forest land on the
south. The rental is 6393/. and the population 2026. Ham
bledon though small, is a market town, having a market
every Thursday, in which a great deal of business is done in
corn. It has also three fairs in the course of the year. The
extreme north of the parish consists chiefly of open downs ;
in the middle there are light lands, of easy cultivation and
well adapted for turnip husbandry ; and in the southern part,
toward the forest, the land is stiff and heavy, consisting in
great part of strong clays. The village of Clanfield is about
a mile to the left of the road to Petersfield, and three miles
south-west of Butser hill. Much of the surface is open ; but
in the lower part of the parish there is a considerable extent
of good land. The population is 529, and the rental 3357/.
A considerable proportion of the inhabitants reside in the
village. Catherington is situated about a mile and a
half directly south of Clanfield and rather nearer the high
road. It is a more populous parish, and being further from
the downs, is upon the whole richer. The number of peo
ple is 944, and the rental 4299/. The village is long and
straggling, but it contains great part of the inhabitants.
There are no vestiges of religious buildings in this section
of the county ; which appears not to have much to attract
the holy men of the olden times.
V. District on the border of Sussex. This is in
some respects a peculiar district, having its surface very

AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 183
much diversified by undulations, and its soil composed of
many varieties of land, from the almost absolute sterility of
the northern downs, to the most fertile on the shores of
Langston harbour. The parishes of Chalton, Idsworth,
and Blindworth, are situated on the northern or upland part ;
and these are divided from the coast counties by a con
siderable breadth of waste and woodland of a clayey nature,
which stretches eastward from the forest of Bere. Chalton
is situated principally on the downs ; and may be considered
as one of the least productive parishes in the county. It
contains 550 people, while the rent is only 752/., which is
remarkably low for a country parish, where the people can
have little or no employment but in the fields. Idsworth,
about two miles south of Chalton, is of superior quality ;
and, with not above two-thirds of the population, can afford
to pay three times the rent. Population 315, rent 2203/.
The church and the grounds of Idsworth house are close on
the boundary of the county. There has been fighting here
at some time ; for there are many tumuli upon Idsworth
down, to the north-west of the village. Blendworth, situ
ated about a mile and a half to the south-west of Idsworth,
extends a considerable way into the cold forest land. It
has a population of 246, and a rental of 1441/.
The parishes toward the sea are, as has been said, much
superior in point of soil to those on the north of the forest.
There are three of them on the mainland, — Bedhampton, Ha-
vant, and Warblington, the last including the village of Ems-
worth, on the margin of the county ; and in Hayling island,
there are two parishes, North and South. Bedhampton lies
around the eastern termination of Portsdown, the richest
land being between that elevation and the sea. The parish
extends over about 3000 acres, for which a rental of 3317/.
is paid, and the population is estimated at 537. About half
the surface is under tillage, and the other half is about
equally occupied by pasture and woodland. The church is
a very neat structure ; the climate of the parish is very mild ;
and, which is rather rare in Hampshire, it abounds in springs

184 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — HISTORICAL
of water, some of them impregnated with minerals — chiefly,
we believe, with iron.
The parish of Havant is a liberty, bounded on the land
sides by Bedhampton and Warblington, and on the south by
Langston harbour. The market town and parish contain in
all 2083 inhabitants, and the rental is 6229/. The town
is neatly built, consisting chiefly of two principal streets,
one north and south, and another east and west ; the public
road between Portsmouth and the more easterly part of the
south coast passing along the latter. In former times, the
fishery in Langston harbour used to be productive, but it is
now inconsiderable, except the oyster fishery, which is still
of some note. The mildness of the climate, and the number
and richness of the mud-banks, occasion the resort of num
bers of migrant aquatic birds to this harbour, especially
when the winter is severe ; and, among others, a swan, with
a collar purporting that the bird belonged to the king of
Denmark, was shot here in the winter of 1739. In Oc
tober, 1834, a slight shock of an earthquake was felt, but
without the slightest disruption of the surface. These
deep-seated earthquakes, of which slight shocks are felt oc
casionally in almost all parts of England, show that there is
an action constantly going on ; and they are probably at
tended by slight elevations and depressions of some parts of
the surface. The church is a handsome structure, with
round pillars in the early Norman style. It consists of an
aisle and chancel, with transepts, and a Norman tower over
the intersection.
Warblington lies on the east and north-east of Havant.
It consists for the most part of rich and fertile land. The
rental is 4990/., and the population 2218, a considerable
number of whom reside in the village of Emsworth. The
village has a harbour for small craft; and there are two fairs
in the course of the year. The castle of the lords of the
manor of Warblington, was once a place of some note in
this part of the country. The ruins are about half-a-mile
to the eastward of Havant ; and the place has once been

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AND TOPOGRAPHICAL DETAILS. 185
one of strength, surrounded by a wall and moat, which in
cluded an extent of about five acres of land, with a second
defence to the fort and its keep. The brick building, lined
with stone, of which a small portion now remains, is not of
very ancient date. The parish church is not far from the site
of the old castle. There is a local tradition, that this church
was originally founded by some two pious ladies ; but this
does not appear to rest upon any conclusive evidence.
Besides the decay of the fishery, the inhabitants of this part
of the coast, are subject to other fallings-off from their oc
cupations. Before the rock-salt of Cheshire and Worcester
shire was worked to such an extent, the salterns on these
shores were of considerable value ; but now they are of no
consideration. In time of war, too, a fictitious population
was drawn toward these places, in expectation of employ
ment in the government works ; and of course When peace
comes, the numbers of the people do not decrease so fast as
the demand for their services. So many years have, how
ever, elapsed since the late war, that by this time the po
pulation must have nearly found its level ; and the people
being cut off from the hope of fictitious means of subsis
tence, will of course cultivate the natural and proper re
sources of their own locality.
Hayling Island is but little elevated above those arms of
the sea by which it is surrounded. Its length is about
three miles and, a half; its breadth very irregular ; and its
surface about 5000 acres, of which about 3000 are cul
tivated, half the remainder in pasture, and the rest sludgy
and covered by the sea at high tides. The shores are every
where so muddy, and the water so shallow, that there is no
creek or harbour. The communication with the mainland,
is by boats, or by the wooden bridge opposite the village of
Langston ; the ford can be passed at low water. The popu
lation of the whole island is 882, and the entire rental is
4776/. It is divided into two parishes, South Hayling, with
a population of 588, and a rental of 2783/. ; and North
Hayling, with 294 people, and 1993/. rent. There was a
VOL. II. BB

186 SOUTHERN SLOPE. — DETAILS.
priory on the island before the Conquest ; but the revenues
were speedily given to an abbey in Normandy. When the
alien priories were suppressed, it was bestowed upon the
Carthusians at Sheen ; and it so Continued till the dissolu
tion, when, after some exchanges and transfers, it ultimately
became the property of the Norfolk family. The greater
part of the rich land about Portsmouth was church property
in the early times.
As the climate along the whole of these very sinuous
shores is mild, the sea breeze fresh over the whole of the
island in the summer season, and yet not so piercing as
that which comes over a large extent of sea, and impruges
directly upon a bold and cliffy shore, many families and
invalids resort to the island, so that the accommodation, and
at least the fluctuating population, have of late years consi
derably increased.

ENVIRONS OF PORTSMOUTH,

SOUTHERN SLOPE. — PORTSEA ISLAND. 187

CHAPTER VIII.
SOUTHERN SLOPE. — PORTSEA ISLAND.
Under this general title, we shall include that small but
very important section of the county of Hants, which lies
to the southward of Portsdown ridge, that is to say, from
Bedhampton on the east, along the ridge of the down, so as
to include the town of Fareham below its western termi
nation, which is an extent rather more than seven miles.
The eastern boundary may be regarded as following the
course of the main channel of Langston harbour, southward
to Cumberland fort ; and this, from the upper tideway to
the entrance, is about five miles. These boundaries as well
as the southern one, which is the line of the sea, are defined
by nature. The western boundary is also partially divined
by the tidal brook which extends from Alverstoke north
westward for about three or four miles, and then across
the fields from Foxbury to Fareham.
The land and water within these boundaries are so
blended with each other, that it would be in vain to attempt
any minute description of them. Portsdown forms a com
plete barrier to the view northward, from all the district to
the south ; but for this deprivement the tourist is well re
paid by the view from the down itself, which is equally ex
tensive, diversified, and interesting. The highest part of
bb 2

188 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
the down is little more than four hundred feet above the
level of the sea ; and thus, the country seen from it has
none of that bird's-eye character, which renders a view tame
and flat when looked upon from too great an elevation.
The escarpment is also short, and, in favourable states of
the tide and the atmosphere, there is much of natural
beauty, though the extent is too great for admitting of
strong pictorial effect in any artificial delineation. In some
respects, this is no inconsiderable advantage ; for it takes
much from the interest of a fine view, if every peripatetic
artist is able to carry off a type of it in his portfolio ; and
the real enjoyment of scenery, which is one of the most de
lightful of our enjoyments, begins exactly at that point where
the abilities of the artist break down.
In order to understand the treat which the view from
this chalk ridge affords, the reader has only to look at the
map : Suppose he stands at the middle of its length, the
mainland part of Hampshire which forms the fore-ground,
is within five or six miles distance ; and, what with the
bays, the towns of Portsmouth and Gosport, the diversi
fied surface of the peninsulas and islands, the rich ver
dure of the fields and meadows, the luxuriance of the
trees, the forest of masts, the anchored vessels at Spithead,
which show the naval majesty of England, sleeping on the
stilly water, — what with these, and what with the histori
cal and national associations which they conjure up we have
a foreground which, both to the eye and to the understand
ing, is probably not equalled, and certainly not excelled, by
any one within the four seas.
Beyond this; at a distance not too great for distinct vision,
but which still gains a powerful contrast from the intervening
sea, one has the entire length of the Isle of Wight, the So
lent, a portion of the Southampton Water, the serried oaks
of the New Forest, with a view of the Channel at each end
of the island, melting off into the sky, and completing the
picture by a very impressive feeling of the extent of the
ocean.

PORTSEA ISLAND.

189

Then, as food to the mind, after the eye is saturated, one
has the docks and arsenal — the grand manufactory of the
British navy, the fleet ready for sea in the offing, and a
channel on either hand by which they can pass to the en
tire expanse of that element which, though it obliterates
all the common works of man, and shakes and shatters even
the rocks themselves, is graven with monuments of England's
glory, which time cannot erase. The inland views, though
circumscribed towards the east and north by the Sussex
downs and their Hampshire continuation, are still of ample
extent, and full of important subjects of historical reminis
cences, and pleasing contrasts of landscape, and of the pre
sent and former condition of all that presents itself to the
eye. The sight from this down, if fully and deliberately
taken, is indeed a volume of much interest and instruction.
It is certain that detachments at least of all the nations by
which south Britain has been successively invaded have
effected their landing upon the shores of this district, and
conducted their march over its surface. The line of the
Roman road can be traced for great part of the distance to
Winchester; and down to recent times, many spots within
view have been crowded with armed men. As matters of
mere history, these martial movements are not without
their interest; but the most pleasing interest is the con
trast of the turbulence of the past with the quietude of
the present. There may be grandeur in the movements of
armies, and the turmoil and din of battles ; and there may
be exultation when powerful fleets march on the sea billow
and the current of the wind to turn the battle from the
gates of England ; but truly there is more of pleasurable
and grateful emotion, when every one is dwelling at peace
" under his own vine and his own fig tree, with nothing to
make him afraid," as has been the case in this district for
nearly two hundred years, and of the interruption of which
there is now not the slightest prospect.
The force of this contrast must be palpable to every one
who feels, either simply as a man, or patriotically as an

190 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
Englishman; and therefore it is that the summit of this
hill of observation is worthy of an hour's visit from every
man who wishes to make his own eyes the inlets of know
ledge and delight. As we have already said, however, the
interest of such places is destroyed by detailed attempts,
whether of the pencil or of the pen ; and therefore we merely
give the hint, leave the reader to find the enjoyment, and
proceed to the more simple work of short topographical de
scription. In order to do this as briefly and as clearly as
possible, it will be desirable to take the district under con
sideration, in subdivisions, of which in this instance there
are three, all of which are very natural. They consist of,
the country extending along the southern inclination of
Portsdown, as far as the high-water line, — of the land on
the west side of Portsmouth harbour, from the town of Fare
ham southward to the sea, — and of the Isle of Portsea, with
the town of Portsmouth, and the establishment there and in
Gosport. It is true that a considerable portion of the north
end' of Portsea Isle is included in the parish of Wymering,
the remainder of which lies in the first of the three natural
divisions ; but still it will be more explicit to regard Port-
bridge, where Portsmouth and Langston harbour meet, as
the descriptive boundary. DECLIVITY OF PORTSDOWN,
This natural section is of very small extent, being the
length of the down — or about seven miles, and about one
mile in average breadth, — the breadth in Portchester, where
it is greatest, being a mile and a half, and that from the tele
graph on the down to Portbridge little more than one mile.
Along the margin of the water, the soil is very rich, and
considerable portions of it have been, from time to time,
gained from the sea. As one ascends the down, it gets
gradually thinner, and ultimately passes into chalk; but
from its southward slope, and its proximity to the sea, and
the extensive harbours with their tidal banks, the whole of
it is much more fertile than the character of the soil would

PORTSEA ISLAND. 191
lead one to suppose, inasmuch as the sea breeze refreshes
it with evaporated moisture when the air is warm and dry.
In fact, it is a sort of natural forcing-ground, in which both
heat and humidity work more intensely than the climate
would lead one to suppose. The same character applies to
the grounds all the way to the sea ; and this is one reason
why some of the more delicate species of culinary vegeta
bles thrive much better in the vicinity of Portsmouth, than
on almost any other spot in England.
The great southern road, through Chichester and Fare
ham, passes through the whole district, immediately under
the down, and at some parts close to the sea-shore ; and
there is another longitudinal road along the summit of the
down, which is, however, one of comparatively little traffic.
The London road crosses the down two miles west of Bed
hampton and near the telegraph ; and, three miles further
west, there stands, on the very summit, a monumental tribute
to Lord Nelson. If we take the longitudinal road from Bed
hampton to Fareham, it will give us the positions of most
of the places worthy of notice within the district. Proceed
ing westward, one mile brings us to the parish church of
Farlington ; another mile, to the village of Drayton : about
a third mile to the village of Cosham, on the London road ;
half-a-mile more, to the parish church and village of Wy
mering ; another mile, to the small village of Palsgrove, on
the beach ; another mile still, to the northern termination of
the parish of Portchester, which straggles south-easterly for
very nearly a mile, and terminates at the once stately castle
of Portchester ; another mile brings one to the small village
of East Cams ; and, half-a-mile more, to the bridge across
the creek which forms the harbour of Fareham. — Such are
the positions of the places ; and we shall now notice, in
greater detail, such of them as may appear to warrant that
distinction. Farlington is a parish containing about 780 inhabitants ;
and, by the returns, of the yearly value of nearly 4000/.
The living is a rectory in the diocese and archdeaconry of

192 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
Winchester, and under lay patronage. The village of Cos-
ham, being at the intersection of the two great roads, contains
a good many houses ; and there are one or two small vil
lages in the neighbourhood. The parish of Wymering is
valuable, in proportion to its inhabitants ; the yearly esti
mate being 7393/., and the number of inhabitants 580.
The living is a vicarage in conjunction with the rectory of
Widley ; and a portion of the Island of Portsea, and also the
small islands of Great and Little Horsea are included in
this parish. Hilsea barracks, together with a considerable
number of houses, are situated in this parish ; but there is
no remain of antiquity worthy of notice, nor any very im
portant modern erection or establishment in any of the
parishes hitherto noticed.
With Portchester, the case is different. As a parish, its
yearly value, in proportion to the number of its inhabitants,
is lower than that of Wymering, — the former being 4631/.,
and the latter 739 ; but it has been a place of importance
from the earliest records of history ; and the ruins of its
castle, which has been a stronghold to many parties, are
still of interest, though chiefly in a monumental point of
view. Porchester Castle — which is obviously a softened or
thography of Portchester, which again is merely a corrup
tion of Castrum Portu, is described as having been a place
of strength in the time of the Britons, — or probably rather of
the Belgic tribes who settled in this part of the countryi
and to whom Portsmouth harbour appears to have been the
grand place of landing, and probably of traffic by sea for this
part of England, as there is no vestige of a Belgic fort on
any other part of the adjoining waters. Caer Peris is un
derstood to have been the appellation bestowed by them
upon whatever description of stronghold they erected upon
this point. When the Romans obtained possession, and
constructed a castle after their fashion upon the same point,
they also looked upon Portsmouth harbour as the place of
most accommodation for their galleys. For this reason,

PORTSEA island.

193

they called it Portus magnus, or the great port; and the
name of the castle or place of strength, in which case the
epithet " magnus " was dropped in speaking of the castle
only, and the substantive Portus, was changed to the epi
thet of the castle ; or, when they were spoken of together,
and the castle alluded to as an appendage to the harbour,
Portus Castri, was the name applied. When the Saxons
overcame the Romanised Britons, they changed the name
to their own pronunciation, Chester or cestre ; and from this
the name has been retained to modern times.
This castle was at the commencement of the great Ro
man road leading through Winchester to Old Sarum ; and
the fact of this being the main line from the sea is proved
by the roads from Bitterne and Nutshalling being merely
lateral branches meeting the main line at Winchester. Even
jn their days, the place had been one of considerable di
mensions as well as importance ; and the same site appears
to have been occupied by all the parties who held it in suc
cession. In ancient times, the situation of this castle must
have been strong, as it stands on the extremity of a penin
sula, jutting into the harbour, and thus requiring defences
against the inland people only upon the land side. The
area of the castle within the walls is between four and
five acres, and the outward walls are evidently the only
parts which are of Roman erection. These walls have been
about ten feet in thickness, on the average, though variable
in some places ; and they have averaged about eighteen feet
in height. In many parts of the remains, the Roman style
of building, consisting of grouted rubble with bonding
courses of brick, may still be observed ; but the buildings
of the keep are evidently later than the days of the Romans,
and some of them are comparatively modern. It is under
stood that the present parish church is situated on that
part of the prsetorium, whereon stood the temple or church
of the garrison in the time of the Romans. The walls are
flanked with towers at the north-east, south-east, and south.
west angles ; but at the north-west angle, the round tower
VOL. II. cc

194 southern slope.
of the Saxons has been removed to make room for one of
the towers of the keep.
This keep occupies an oblong, sixty-five feet the one way,
and a hundred the other ; and) when entire, it has consisted
of the towers alluded to, with strong curtains between them,
all of very solid masonry. The great tower is of vari
ous styles of architecture, from' the days of the Saxons to
those of Queen Elizabeth. — But the ruins are so extensive
that we cannot enter into details.
The history of this castle is, in the early part, involved in
some obscurity, the chroniclers saying that it was built by
Gurgunstus 300 , years before the birth of Christ. It is
probable that this is a mere fable, inasmuch as the said
chroniclers had a great, tendency to '¦'¦make a beginning"
to everything whether they had any real authority for so
doing or not. This was a royal castle in the years im
mediately following the conquest ; but the kings appear to
have had some trouble in making the constables behave in a
manner exactly proper. In those days, every man who held
a strong castle, by whatever tenure, appeared to have as
sumed not a little of royal authority, which was indeed
quite in the spirit of feudal law. As an example of this,
we find that, in the year 1290, when John de Pontissara, bi
shop of Winchester, was abroad, Henry Huse, the then con
stable of Portchester, " took his pleasure " in Waltham
chase; with as much freedom as Percy of Northumberland
did in the " Scottish woods," upon the memorable occasion of
Chevy Chace ; and that they, the said Huse and his " merry
men all," conceiving themselves to be in the protection of
the king, set the episcopal keepers at open defiance. What
was the result of this complaint is not known ; but nine
years afterwards Edward I, who was the very antipodes of
Henry VIII, in his conduct to queens, bestowed this castle
upon his second wife, Margaret, as part of her dowry. After
this, the castle passed through various hands, until it at
length was held by subjects ; and appears at one time to
have been, partially at least, the property of the abbey of

PORTSEA ISLAND.

195

Glassenbury. It subsequently became private property, and
in war time it has been extensively used as a place of con
finement for prisoners.
We have noticed in a former chapter that the priory of
black canons, established here by Henry I, was removed to
Southwick ; but the church, which is probably of more an
cient date than the priory, still remains, occupying the south
eastern part of the castle area. It is a homely structure,
in various styles of architecture, and has undergone many
alterations, as is evident from the marks on the tower of roofs
of much greater elevation than the present one. The living
is a vicarage, of which the lord chancellor is patron.
The village of Porchester, extending from the castle to
the public road, for about a mile, used to be called Porches-
ter-street; and the street which now passes through it is
most probably part of the great Roman road. Situated at
a distance from the road, not being a thoroughfare, and
also being near to Fareham, and having no harbour, this
village is of no great importance.
WESTWARD OF PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR.
This natural section of the district is of very irregular
figure, — that which it most resembles is an elongated pear.
Its greatest length, from Gilkicker point to the most north
erly buildings in the town of Fareham, being a little more
than six miles ; and this passes very nearly through the
average axis, or centre line of that area. The greatest
breadth is about two miles ; and the average may be about
a mile and a half, which will make the whole surface equal
to about nine square miles. A considerable portion of this,
however, consists of creeks, tidal banks, marshy banks, and
water-meadows, — the creeks in this part of the county being
styled lakes, or ponds. The surface, though a little diver
sified by hill and dale, is in general flat, and the soil rich
and highly productive. Viewed from the top of the down,
its appearance at high-water is very fine ; and in the part
immediately opposite Portsmouth there is an abundant poi
cc 2

196 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
pulation. The principal part of it is under crop or in pas
turage ; but there are some woods and numerous villages.
There is no thoroughfare between any very important
places through it ; and its principal landward communication
is by way of Fareham. From Fareham, a main road extends
southward through the middle of the district ; and there
are various cross roads within it, but there is no main road
intersecting it from east to west, neither is there any regular
shipping place along its seaward coast, by means of which
an intercourse with the Isle of Wight can be carried on.
That coast consists of two lines nearly straight, each about
a mile and three quarters in length ; one extending north
eastward, from the extreme southerly point to Block-house
point on the west entrance to Portsmouth harbour ; and the
other extending north-westward from the extreme point to
opposite Gomer pond, and forming a slight inbend, which
is called Stokes bay. The places of most note within it
are, Fareham, in the extreme north ; Rowner, toward the
west ; Alverstoke, near the south ; with the town of Gos
port, which, though situated in the parish of Alverstoke, is
the most populous, and in some respects the most important
place in the section — although it derives its chief import
ance from being a sort of appendage to Portsmouth, and con
taining many of the establishments connected with the
government harbour, docks, and arsenal there; and for
this reason we shall reserve our notice of them to the next
section. Fareham is a marketrtown, having a weekly market on
Wednesdays, and a public fair on the 29th of June yearly.
It carries on a considerable trade, and has manufactures of
pottery, sacking, cordage, and various other articles. Its
population, by the returns in 1831, was 4402, which is an
increase of about twenty per cent, upon the previous return ;
and if it has gone on at the same rate, which there is every
reason to believe, it must now contain more than 5000 in
habitants. The yearly valuation in 1815, was 21,088/.,
which was very high in respect of the population. The

WEST STREET, FA IfS & Bfl A M .

m„,l,,.,ler M /j; Use/, for f/tr Jh/irirfar ,7,iJ ' JIMtru. tillr.j. Sire,?,

tJh.liiisne.t.r JUic Itiimry My/:. Arret

PORTSEA ISLAND. 197
town has a court baron, under the management of a bailiff,
two constables, and two ale-conners. The church living is
a vicarage, in the patronage of the bishop of Winchester ;
and, besides the parish church, there are meeting houses for
dissenters. Though Fareham, like Gosport, owed its first growth to
a town to its proximity to Portsmouth, it is far less depen
dant upon Portsmouth for a continuation of its trade and
prosperity. Though it is comparatively small, there are few
towns in Hampshire, or indeed in England, more pleasantly
or more advantageously situated. It is a great thoroughfare
by land, and the sea-port to a very extensive district. For
local trade, it is indeed much better situated than Ports
mouth itself. There is only one land connection with Ports
mouth, namely, that by the London road, or turning from
that into the cross roads ; but upon looking at Fareham
in the map, it will be seen that it is a point of convergence
for several roads ; namely, the road from Alverstoke and
Gosport, the road from Southampton, the road from the east,
and a road from Bishop's Waltham, which proceeds by one
branch to London and the centre of England, and by ano
ther to Winchester, Salisbury, and the west of England ; be
sides this it is the port from which the extensive country to
the southward of the central downs of Hampshire can be
best supplied with coal and other searborne articles ; and also
from which the produce of that country can be most con
veniently sent to market by sea. Besides these advantages,
the situation and environs of the town are very beautiful.
Portsdown shelters it from the east and north-east winds,
and the force of the south-west winds is also much broken,
first by the New Forest and the Isle of Wight, and then by
the wooded district south-west of the town. Hence the air
has all the freshness of a sea air, without any of its fury ;
and consequently Fareham is a most advantageous place of
resort for those who wish to enjoy the advantage of sea
bathing. Here they have indeed a double advantage, for
they can enjoy the sea and the land at the same time, the

198 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
town being both maritime and inland. Its distance from
the entrance to Portsmouth harbour, along the line of the
main channel, is about seven miles ; there is considerable
depth of water all the way — quite enough, indeed, for any
vessel that could be expected to carry on a profitable trade
with the town ; and there are so many flexures in the upper
part, that it has all the appearance of a series of lakes.
Many ships of considerable burden have been built at Fare
ham ; and timber, fit for ship building, is plentiful in that
district to which it forms the port. The town is situated
on the right or western bank of the creek, and consists of
two principal streets, one stretching along the road to Bi
shop's Waltham, and the other along that to Titchfield.
Taking it in all its circumstances, Fareham is one of the
most agreeable towns in the county.
From Fareham southward till about the middle of the
length of the section, there are few villages of any magni
tude ; but between three and four miles along the Gosport
road, there is the village of Brockhurst ; about half-a-mile
on the left, at this place, there is the pretty large village
of Elson ; and at about nearly a mile to the right stands
the parish church of Rowner. This is an agricultural and
grazing parish, containing a population of 140, which is an
increase of only two from 1829 to 1830. The yearly valu
ation is 2265/. The church living is a rectory, under pri
vate patronage.
Alverstoke, independently of its containing the market
town of Gosport, is a parish of more interest. Including
the town, the population is 12,639 ; and the yearly valua-
ation in 1815 was 41,440/. The surface of this parish is
very much diversified by land and water ; Alverstoke lak&
enters from Block-house point ; thence, following the wind
ings up to the village of Alverstoke, it is about two miles ;
and there are two or three branches which extend north
westward, and contract the ground upon which Gosport
stands to a sort of peninsula. On the low ground, between
Alverstoke lake and the sea, there are situated the exten-

PORTSEA ISLAND. 199
sive naval hospital at Hasler, a barrack establishment, and
Fort Mountain, near Gilkicker point ; but of these, as being
part of the government establishment, we shall speak after
wards. At rather more than a mile to the northward there
is the entrance of Forton lake, which penetrates about a
mile and a quarter westward into the land; between the
entrances of these lakes Gosport is situated, and also the
naval brewery and some other government works. A ditch
and rampart, nearly a mile in length, have been formed
from the one of these lakes to the other. These constitute
the land boundary of Gosport, properly so called ; but there
are many buildings without the lines both on the road by
Forton to Fareham, and on the road to Alverstoke. On
Priddy's hard, at the north side of the entrance, there are
also government works, and these are defended on the land
side by a similar ditch and rampart. There are some vil
lages in the western parts of the parish, but none of them
are of any considerable size. The aspect of this part of the
country is, however, very rich, and not destitute of beauty ;
and some new erections have recently been made upon it.
The surface is a succession of water, sludge, strong loam,
and gravelly hard, distributed in a very irregular manner ;
and there are few cultivated productions of the field, the
forest, or the garden, for which one part or the other of it
is not well adapted. The living at Alverstoke is a rectory ;
and that in Gosport is a curacy, under the patronage of the
Alverstoke rector.
Gosport is a market town having weekly markets, and
fairs on the 4th of May and the 10th of October. The town
consists of one pretty street extending from the harbour west
ward to the gate through the line of fortification ; and
besides this there are a number of cross streets. Some of the
streets are well built ; but they do not make a very handsome
appearance. The aspect of the town is however not unplea
sant when approached by the water. The Established
Church stands near the south east of the town ; and besides
it, there is a Dissenting Chapel, and an Academy for the

200 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
education of dissenting preachers ; and there is also a Catholic
Chapel. The privilege of holding a market was first granted
to Gosport by the bishop of Winchester, who was proprietor
of the old market-house tolls. The market-house stood ori
ginally in the High-street, it consisted of a wooden-shed for
the market people, with some apartments over for the officers
of his lordship's baronial court; but about the year 1811,
a more commodious market place was erected on the shore.
Gosport is badly situated for trade with every part of the
county ; and it may be said to depend wholly upon the
government establishments. The consequence is that, in
times of war and activity and movement in the army and
navy, Gosport is all bustle and buisness. But the bustle
and business, which depend upon war and warlike establish
ments and preparations, are not of the most wholesome, or
desirable kind ; and accordingly, when in the the soft atmos
phere of a protracted peace, the sword is rusting and the war
ship is rotting, such a place as Gosport becomes a town of
desolation. There is one project however, which has received the
sanction of the legislature, that may give a considerable im
pulse to Gosport, and that is a branch railway from the
London and Southampton line. This branch parts from the
main line at Bishopstoke, and will make Gosport not only a
thoroughfare, but the port of at least a portion of the district
through which the line passes ; and, in order to render this
as complete as possible, a steam-boat on chains is established
on the Gosport ferry, similar to that on the Itchen ferry at
Southampton. Thus Gosport will become an important
point in the line of communication with all places which
the Southampton railway opens up ; and it is very likely
that the communication will be extended further to the east
ward, so as to form a grand line of communication with all
the south coast ; but in this line Gosport will always main
tain its importance, as there can be no rail road across Ports
mouth harbour,
We omitted to mention, that the supposed etymology of

PORTSEA ISLAND. 201
the word Gosport is " God's Port" — literally, the port of
safety or deliverance. This name is said to have been
bestowed upon it by Henry De Blois, bishop of Winchester
in consequence of the fishermen here having been the means,
of saving the life of his brother, King Stephen, when the
vessel in which that monarch was returning from Normandy
was wrecked on this part of the shore during a violent storm.
Many stories of a similar kind are told of the names of other
places ; and probably there is an equal absence of truth in
them all ; for though a grant to the inhabitants of the village
to call it God's Port is said to exist in the archives of Win
chester cathedral, we must not believe implicitly that this
was the origin of the name, though a coincidence between
that and the old appellation of Gorse Port, may give a
colour to the matter ; but the real meaning is probably the
creek among the gorse or furze, with which plant all the dry
ground here appears to have been overrun in early times. A
parallel case will illustrate this, and show what little depen
dency ought to be placed on these monkish derivations: Dun
dee, the name of an ancient town in Scotland, is evidently
Tun Tai — " The hill-fort on the Tay," as literally as the an
cient language of that part of Scotland can be expressed in
modern Scotch ; and yet the current legend is, that the earl
of Huntingdon — or somebody else, having been saved from
shipwreck there, gratefully built a chapel there in honor of
the Blessed Virgin, and called the place Donum Dei — •" the
gift of God," which words the corporation of the town have
ever since borne as the motto of their crest, which crest
is a lily emblematical of the spotless innocence of the vir
gin ; though, as supporters to their shield, they have added
two terrible serpents, with wings and claws and arrowy tails,
to show that they were prepared for the result either way.
We mention this as a matter of more consequence than
some will be apt to suppose ; for if the etymologies are viti
ated the whole of the history is vitiated ; and as the Port,
that is the entire harbour of Portsmouth, considered as a
place of resort for craft, is the radical portion of all the names
VOL. II. DD

202 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
of adjoining places whereof it forms part, and the rest of the
name only adjunctive, it is clearly made out that, from the
time of the earliest nomenclature, the harbour, the roadstead,
and all the marine accommodations here, which are of so im
portant a character still, and have been equally so in earlier
times, have been the grand attraction ; and that everything
else has been named from its own properties, but with re
ference to the Port. PORTSEA AND PORTSMOUTH.
These names afford a direct confirmation of what we have
just said. Portsea is Portes Ea, Oe, Y, or I, according to
the pronunciation — that is the " Island of the Port" and
Portsmouth is as obviously Portes mouth — " the mouth of
the Port " which is indeed the old spelling. Further we may
remark that in all compound names of places, of which " Sea "
forms the last syllable, Ea, Island, forms the substantive part
of that syllable, while " S " is the sign of the genitive or pos
sessive case, of the preceding part of the name, the "e"
which preceded " s " in the genitive being left out in the
modern spelling. We have a further illustration of this in
the name of the village of Hilsea, in the northern part of
Portsea island. This, though not on a hill, certainly is on
ground more elevated than the adjoining marshes ; and
therefore it is the " height of the island," without any refe
rence to the Port, with which it has no immediate connection.
Portsea Island has long been an interesting spot,
though chiefly in a maritime point of view — for the rendez
vous of fleets, and the assembling, embarking, and landing
of armies engaged in foreign wars. It does not appear to
have been very remarkable for trade at any one period of its
history, for it must have been ranked lower than Southamp
ton in a mercantile point of view, otherwise Southampton
would have not been raised to the dignity, of the Port, and
Portsmouth which was, and which is, the Port, in a mili
tary point of view, appended to the other as a mere creek.
Natural circumstances were, and are, highly favorable for
this. In ancient times, the island appears to have been

PORTSEA ISLAND.

203

nearly impregnable, unless at a few points, in consequence
of the water, by which it was surrounded, and the mud and
marsh along its shores, which rendered it impossible for craft
of any burthen to land, except perhaps on a few points where
there are hards or firm beaches. This appears to have been
the case in the time of the Romans, as there are no remains of
their works upon the island. The elevated portion was how
ever, well adapted for the muster of armies ; and it is proba
ble that this was the circumstance which occasioned the ori
gin of the town. In the Saxon times it was royal property ;
but it was transferred to the Minster at Winchester by El-
freda the heroic Queen of Ethelred, and the aunt and mili
tary instructress of Alfred. At the suppression of the New
Minister, it became the property of Winchester college, by
which the greater part of the land, together with the advow-
sons of the parish churches, is still held.
The extreme length of the island from Port bridge on the
north, the only approach by land, to Southsea castle on the
south, is about four miles ; and the extreme breadth, from
Cumberland fort on the east, to the King's stairs at the wes
tern extremity of the dock, is about three miles and three-
quarters. The average breadth, however, does not exceed
two miles. As is the case with the district to the westward
of the harbour, the seaward shores of this island are nearly
straight lines, and they form an obtuse salient angle, — the
south-western shore, from Southsea castle to the great tower
at the entrance of the harbour, is about a mile and a quarter ;
and the south-eastern one, from Southsea castle to Cumber
land fort is nearly two miles and three-quarters. The tide
into both harbours sets pretty strongly against these shores,
and hence the beaches are scoured, and in some places a con
siderable part of the land has been worn away, the light
matters being carried up and deposited in the upper shallows
of the harbours, while the pebbles have been left upon the
beaches. At present the sea does not appear to be making
any considerable inroad ; for the beaches have been worn to
a resisting slope, and the action of the water has been dimi-
dd 2

204

SOUTHERN SLOPE.

nished by the silting up of the upper parts of the harbours,
especially Langston harbour, the shore toward which is
softer than that towards Portsmouth. From this character
of the shores, more especially of that from Southsea to Ports
mouth, the water is clear, and well adapted for sea bathing.
The eastern side of the island is more marshy and it is
broken by arms of the sea which however are only very
narrow runs at low water. Of these creeks or lakes there
are three : Eastney lake, immediately north of the peninsula
upon which Cumberland fort is built, and which peninsula
terminates in a long point, running into Langston harbour ;
north of this, Velder lake about three-quarters of a mile
northward of the former, and separated from it by a rounded
peninsula ; and the lake of the great Saltern, which how
ever is merely a creek in the marshes, but which extends
farther into the land than either of the others. It extends
in the direction of Hilsea, and receives a small brook at the
head of the tideway. The Salterns here were, at one time,
of considerable value.
The northern boundary of the island is upon the average
about a mile and a half in length, forming an irregular curve.
It is fortified by a zigzag rampart, and the space between it
and Port bridge creek, which joins the two harbours, can be
laid under water in case of a siege. On the mainland end of
the bridge there is a tete dupont, for defending the entrance if
necessary. The land towards the east and north-east is very
flat and marshy ; but great part of it has been drained, and
it is very rich ; though there are but few inhabitants on this
side of the island,
The west side is even more irregular in its outline than
the east ; but it is not nearly so marshy, the elevation being
a little greater. Here it forms a sort of three peninsulas ;
one extending over nearly the southern half of the line, and
containing upon its western margin, Portsmouth and Port
sea, with the government docks abutting on the west of the
latter. The second peninsula is about a mile and a half
north^of the docks, it projects a considerable distance into
the water, and has powder magazines on the points or hards.

PORTSEA ISLAND.

205

The remaining peninsula consists chiefly of field and marsh,
and presents nothing interesting. These flexures of the
line of shore, have little beauty when seen from the land
side, but they give no inconsiderable interest in sailing up
or down the harbour.
Parochial and other divisions. With the excep
tion of the northern part, which is in the parish of Wymer
ing, and the extra-parochial land at the great Saltern, which
last is chiefly in the hands of government, the island of
Portsea contains, two parishes, — the parish of Portsmouth,
and the the parish of Portsea. The first of these is of very
small extent, consisting only of the town and its fortifica
tions to the counterscarp of the principal ditch; for the
ravelins and other outworks are in the parish at Portsea.
Besides the space included by the works, however, the two
gun wharfs,' — the one of which abuts on the north-west of
Portsmouth, and the other on the south-west of Portsea, —
are included within the parish, though they are not within
the fortifications, but separated from them by a wall and
ditch. The parish of Portsea is very extensive, and con
tains far more inhabitants than the town of Portsmouth,
though the greater number of them also live without the
fortifications by which the town of Portsea, properly so
called, is defended on the land side. Some idea of the
relative importance of these two parishes may be formed
from the statement, that Portsmouth, in 1831, contained
8,083 inhabitants, and Portsea 42,306, — in all a population
exceeding 50,000.
In order to communicate as clear a notion as possible of
the relations of these parishes, and also of the parliamen
tary borough of Portsmouth, we shall suppose that the
reader enters the island by Port bridge, proceeds by the
main road, and arrives at the shipping place for the Isle of ,
Wight, — noticing the particulars right and left as he goes
along. Suppose, then, that our imaginary tourist has ar
rived at the bridge : — about three furlongs, along a road
curving a little to the westward, bring him to the northern

206 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
extremity of the scattered village of Hilsea, with its barracks
or their remains. At this point the road branches, — the
leftrhand road passing by the east of Hilsea, southward by
the villages of Copner and Milton, to the south coast of the
island ; and the right-hand branch being the main road to
Portsmouth. About three furlongs farther, the road enters
the parish of Portsea, and here Gatcomb lies about a quar
ter of a mile to the left, and the harbour on the right, is
nearly at the same distance ; rather more than another
furlong brings one to the Green post, which is the northern
boundary of the parliamentary borough ; and another half-
mile reaches North End, where the buildings begin to
thicken. Stubbington lodge lies a quarter of a mile to the
left here ; and the shore of the harbour is about three fur
longs to the right. Two furlongs bring one to Kingston,
where the road again divides — the left-hand branch passing
down the centre of the island, by the villages of Buckland
and Fratton, which is pretty thickly studded with build
ings for more than a mile ; and the old parish church of
Portsea stands on the left of it about three-quarters-of-a-mile
from Fratton. At about half-a-mile, Lake lane diverges
toward the right of this road, and joins the main road at
the end of another mile ; also, just above the church, Dead-
man's lane turns to the left, along the north wall of the
great cemetery in which the church is built. Returning to
the fork at Kingston, the right-hand branch proceeds a
quarter of a mile to the right, along the crescent — the con
cavity of which is to the south. It is here within about
three hundred yards of the harbour on the right where Rud-
more mill is situated, Passing the poor-house on the left,
a cemetery on the right, and at last arriving at Commercial
road — which is the first regularly built street, one comes to
the junction of Lake lake, from the left, which is three-
quarters of a mile from the western extremity of the cres
cent. This junction may be considered as the central point
of the largest assemblage of streets in the island ; but their
number and direction are too various for our notice; at a

PORTSEA ISLAND.

20^

quarter of a mile more, one arrives at the foot of the glacis
of the Portsea fortifications ; and here the Lion gate road
passes across the glacis, and through the ravelin, across the
ditch, and through the curtain, between two bastions, and
continues, as Queen-street, the principal street in Portsea
within the walls. Its length from the gate to the gate of
the docks on the harbour, is somewhere about half-a-mile ;
but this is more than the absolute extent of the town from
east to west. This is the main road to the docks and arse
nal : but if Portsmouth be the object, one must proceed
straight onward from the point where this road diverges,
and something less than three-quarters of a mile brings one
to the Land gate of Portsmouth. About half-a-mile from
the gate, the road passes the edge of the dam which works
the government tide-mill at the gun wharfs ; and, south
ward, on the left, there is situated the village of Southsea,
which is a considerable assemblage of streets, some of them
spacious and handsomely built. The collection of buildings
farther to the north, which we mentioned as forming the
largest group in the island, is called Landport, from the
land port of Portsmouth, and not from the entrance to the
works at Portsea ; which is called Lion gate. Of the tho
roughfare from Land gate, through Portsmouth, we shall
speak afterwards ; but what we have already said may direct
any one to the entrance of both the fortified places. To
ward the left of the road which enters Portsmouth, there are
very many villas and villages, all of them pleasantly situated,
but by far too minute in their details for our notice.
We shall now glance at the boundaries of the borough.
We have already mentioned it as far as Green post, thence
it proceeds southward to Stubbington lodge, and so on by
zigzag all the way to Deadman's lane, which it reaches
more than a quarter-of-a-mile east of the old church. It
proceeds westward along the lane so as to exclude the
church ; then northward along the road to Lake lane, down
which it runs for a quarter of a mile, and then turning off
to the left, proceeds by zigzags to the King's rooms' baths on

208 THE SOUTHERN SLOPE.
the beach, about half-armile south-east of the great round
tower at the entrance of the harbour. From the south
eastern parts of the ramparts there extends, for rather more
than a mile in length, and a quarter-of-a-mile in average
breadth, a portion of Southsea common, once an extensive
waste ;. and this is used as a review and encampment
ground. From Flat house, at the north-west, point, there
is along the glacis of the works and this remainder of the
common, an uninterrupied stretch of open surface, for a
length of nearly three miles ; and as this forms an unbroken
communication between the inward harbour and the out
ward sea, it of course contributes greatly to the salubrity of
Portsmouth, Portsea, and the extensive towns and villages
to the eastward.
Fortifications. A very brief notice of these is all
that we can afford ; and the only general remark which we
shall make is, that, with a fleet at Spithead to keep com
mand of the sea, the grand naval establishment here may be
regarded as absolutely impregnable. To fortify the whole
island, would be as useless as expensive ; because no army
could invest the place, and no garrison could defend it. On
the east and west, defences would be superfluous ; and those
on the north, if they ever should become useful — which is
neither to be expected nor wished, are calculated for pre
venting a surprise, and not for protracted defence. The
forts on the south, are for nearly the same purpose. Of
them, Cumberland fort is a regular pentagon, of about a
quarter-of-a-mile diameter, estimating to the top of the gla
cis, at the salient angles of the bastions. Eastney fort,
Lump's fort, and Southsea castle, as well as fort Monckton
on the other side of the entrance, are small and irregular.
The main fortifications, as we may term them, are seg
ments of irregular polygons, of many sides, and therefore
very strong. That of Portsmouth has six curtains with
five bastions, one small bastion at the entrance of the har
bour, and another toward Portsea, near the King's mill ; and
there are ravelins in advance of all the curtains, some of

portsea island. 209
them with retired flanks. All the ditches are filled with
water, and form part of the dam for working the mill, only
they can be kept full by sluices in case of need. The ram
parts are planted with trees, and form a very airy and agree
able promenade. The length of the chord, from the plat
form battery to that of the mill, is about half-a-mile. The
fortification of Portsea is a segment of a much larger poly
gon ; and therefore it is still stronger in its form. It
consists of three bastions, and two demi-bastions with out
works; and, as is the case with Portsmouth, the ditches
admit of being kept full of water should that be necessary.
There is another circumstance which adds greatly to the
strength of these two lines of fortifications : they can act
like two bastions of the same fort, and thus mutually defend
each other. It is true that, if exposed to the terrible cross
fire of these forts, the towns and villages beyond the glacis
would not be in the most agreeable situation imaginable ;
but then, if there were even a chance of an attack on Ports
mouth from the land side, the island beyond the works
would be of small use to any party friendly to those by
whom the works were defended.. The fort upon Block
house point, the south-western part of the works of Ports
mouth, and the great martello tower at the entrance of the
harbour, are the immediate defences of that entrance ; and
there, a proper fleet at Spithead, would form an outwork
not easily carried by any invader. — Such is a mere notice
of those strong fortifications, which have been of no abso
lute use since they were so strong, — and it is not desirable
that they should ; but still they are there in case of acci
dents ; and it may be well that it should be known that the
arsenal of England is as impregnable as her fleets are in
vincible. Harbour line. This is the only general name that we
can obtain for the margin of the water, from the southern
part of the fortifications at Portsmouth to the north-east of
the docks at Portsea. From the southern part of the works,
there is no communication with the town, till one comes to
VOL II. ee

210 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
the kings's stairs opposite the end of the High-street ; and
here the rampart terminates, and there is no other part
on the harbour side, except the round-tower, which- tower
is about a furlong northward of the stairs. Beyond this,
the point extends more than a furlong further ; and it is be
tween this point and Block-house point that the entrance to
the harbour lies. The point from the king's stairs to its
northern extremity is narrow, and near the middle of its
length it has a projection eastward. South and north of
this projection is the commercial harbour, with the Custom
house on the eastern part of it. This harbour, which is lo
cally called the Camber, is divided into two, with a very nar
row channel between by the point alluded to. From south
to north, it is about a quarter-of-a-mile in length, and the
entrance to it, which is from the north-west, is not a hundred
yards wide. Broad-street, which is a continuation of High-
street, extends down the middle of the point, and there are
also various other streets and lanes, — this and the eastern
side of the Camber being the only places where Portsmouth
is directly bounded by the sea. Hence northward, the new
and old gun- wharves, extending to the harbour, and their bases
occupy rather more than a quarter-of-a-mile of the harbour
on a straight line, — the projection of the one being about a fur
long, and that of the other rather more. Immediately beyond
the gun- wharves there is an opening to the sea, with the build
ings of Portsea on the other side. This is called the Com
mons hard ; and both it and the row opposite are much
devoted to the sale of frippery, so that this is neither the
most cleanly nor the most moral spot in England. It is the
great landing-place from the ships in the harbour — at least
for the common sailors and those who keep up intercourse
with them ; and it is also a place where boats may be taken
to the other side, — north point in Gosport being rather
less than half-a-mile distant. The Hard extends, as a sort
of slip, a considerable way into the harbour ; and this forms
the usual jetty for embarking or landing. This Common
hard displays no very pleasant scene in times of peace, and

PORTSEA island. 211
in War time it must be far worse ; but as such scenes are
inseparable from places where sailors resort in great numbers,
it is probably better to have it thus concentrated than if it
were dispersed all over the town.
Immediately north of the Hard, are the gates of entrance
to the grand naval arsenal ; and that, taken along the whole
line of its quays and openings, extends to not less than a
mile ; and, at its southern termination, it projects about a
furlong beyond the beach at the Hard, which ensures a
sufficient depth of water at the entrances of the docks and
basins. As this is, in no sense of the word, a mercantile es
tablishment, but merely for the building, the equipment,
and the repair of ships of war, there are no basins, enclosed
by tidal gates, in which vessels which need no repair can
lie at the quays without any rising or falling with the tide.
As long as a ship of war is sea-worthy, she has no business
to touch the land, whether that land is a natural beach, or
an artificial pier. In the language which the poet has alle-
gorically applied to Britain, the war-ship is literally de
scribed,' — " Her march is on the mountain wave,
Her home is on the deep."
A ship of war has no consanguinity with the land; and
when she touches the shore, she is in the same predicament
as the giant of old was, when the demi-god lifted him from
the earth — her stay is gone and she is powerless. Even
when such vessels are reposing, they ride in the waters,
and are never put into any kind of dock unless they are
unfit for the sea. Nor is it a little curious or incompre
hensible, upon any known physical principle, that a ship
should rot sooner in a wet dock, than when moored in a
harbour or roadstead. Such, however, is the fact ; and
until a better explanation is discovered, we may perhaps
explain it by saying, that the water in a dock may become
contaminated and putrid, but the water of the sea or a
tidal harbour, never.
Portsmouth. Of the town of Portsmouth, as a town,
ee 2

212 southern slope.
our notice must be brief indeed. In a former part of this
chapter we brought the traveller along the London road to
the Land gate ; but a turn of about a hundred yards to the
left has to be taken before one reaches the High-street
When that is arrived at, the length of it is three furlongs ;
and Broad-street, which turns to the north-west like a hook,
is about two furlongs more. The High-street, as might be
anticipated, is the best street in the town, and is, as one would
say, spacious and well built ; but there is an air about it
which says it is not exactly in its element in pacific times.
Parallel to the High-street, and to the north of it, there
are St. Thomas and Warblington streets,- — the last of which
terminates nearly, but not quite, at the Land gate. South
of the High-street and parallel to it, there are two streets,
Penny-street, and beyond that St. Nicholas-street, with a loop
at their eastern termination. All these streets are crossed
by St. Mary's-street and Oyster-street, the latter, extending
from Quay gate — for even the Quay is shut out from the
people, for the greater part of its length — to the grand par
rade ground in the south-western angle of the town, with
the governor's gardens quite to the ramparts, and having the
garrison chapel, or remains of the hospital of Domus Dei
at the south-eastern extremity of the parade. Besides those
now enumerated there are several other streets ; and, with
the exception of barrack squares and the space round the
church, the town is closely built. The principal barracks
are Colewprt barracks, near the Land gate ; Cambridge bar
racks to the left of the High-street in going down, and the
Marine barracks, on the south side of St. Nicholas street.
These barracks can, upon an emergency, afford accomoda
tion for a very considerable number of troops.
The church of Portsmouth stands between the High-
street and St. Thomas-Street, below Oyster street. It was
built by the directions of Bishop Rupibus, and dedicated to
Thomas a Becket. Originally it was altogether Norman,
and in the form of a cross ; but the greater part of the in
terior has been spoiled by modern improvement — the chan-

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PORTSEA ISLAND. 213
eel alone retains its ancient character. The altar-piece
consists of the monument of George Villiers, Duke of
Buckingham, who, having been sent by Charles II to col
lect an army for the purpose of going to seek the laurels he
had lost in a former expedition to Rochelle, was murdered
at the Spotted Dog in the High-street, by Felton, and
whose heart is understood to have been placed in an urn
which surmounts the monument. Nothing could justify
the assassination certainly ; but it is a little singular that
the monument of a courtier — and perhaps the courtier who
was one of the means of bringing Charles to the block,
should remain as the altar-piece of a Christian church. In
the cupola of this church, there are eight bells, upon some
of which there are rather ludicrous inscriptions.
The above-noticed, and the garrison chapel, are the only
churches of the establishment within the walls ; but there
are several dissenting chapels,— though there are more
without the walls, and there are also, in addition to the old
church of Portsea, several others of recent erection.
Portsmouth contains a liberal supply of the usual esta
blishments for the purposes of charity, instruction, and
amusement, and some of the inns and hotels are on a scale
of considerable magnitude ; but none of them has any very
strong claims to attention, especially in a town where there
are so many matters worthier of notice, and when the
space which we can devote to the whole is so limited.
Portsea, within the walls, stands upon rather more
ground than Portsmouth, but it is nearly of the same form,
It is of comparatively modern date,' — there being, at the close
of the seventeenth century, only one house upon the ground
which it now occupies. Though the docks abut upon it
for their whole length, and it owes its existence solely to the
naval establishment, there is no direct communication be
tween them — the landward side of the docks being sepa
rated by a wall. Queen-street, already mentioned as being
a continuation of the London road from Lion gate to the
Common hard and the dock gates, is the principal street,

214 southern slope.
and nearly bisects the town. A little way down Queen-
street, North-street branches off to the right ; and near the
other end of it there is Unicorn gate, through the fortifica
tions. A little above North-street, St. James'-street branches
off to the left, and proceeds by St. George's-square, and the
king's mill, to the custom-house and quay in Portsmouth;
and this is perhaps the shortest line from the main London
road to the shipping place. There are many other streets
within the walls, but none of them are thoroughfares ; and
they are in general meanly built, and contain nothing of
general interest. St. George's-square, — which, by the way,
is more like a weaver's shuttle in shape, is a pleasant open
place, with a ehurch dedicated to St. George in the centre ;
and on the north-east of it are situated the offices of En
gineers. — A town of such recent origin can, of course, have
no history.
The Government establishment consists of so many
parts, these are on a scale of such magnitude, and they are
withal so important in a national, and even in a more gene
ral point of view, that many volumes would be requisite, in
order to do them justice. From the time that Alfred de
feated the Danes, after he had established the navy, of which
Portsmouth harbour appears to have been the first rendez
vous, the establishment here has been in a state of progres
sive increase, though of course with fluctuations, answering
to those of the times, and the tempers of the successive mo
narchs. The grand improvements, however, began in the
reign of Queen Anne, and continued up to the close of the
late war, by which time everything was so extensive and so
complete, that repairs and minor improvements are all that
have since been necessary.
The Dock and Arsenal, on the east side of the harbour,
and abutting on the town of Portsea, claim the first atten
tion ; for there are the principal manufactures and stores of
the grand substantial parts of ships of war. The mast-houses
and mast-ponds, the grand rope- walk — nearly eleven hundred
yards in length, the store-houses, the various workshops, the

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collection of anchors — some of them nearly five tons in weight,
and especially the building docks, afford perhaps a more im
pressive idea of the power and grandeur of the British navy
than can be obtained by any other substantive means. The
great docks are four in number, — three in the direction of
east and west, and one deflected south-east. All these open
into a great receiving basin ; they are twenty-two feet deep ;
and there are very powerful engines for pumping out water
and keeping them dry. The dimensions are such as to admit
of the building or repair of vessels of the greatest burden ;
and they are most conveniently situated with respect to all
the preparing houses for the different materials requisite for
constructing the hull of a vessel. So admirably indeed is
the whole arranged, that there is not more waste of time in the
building of a ship equal to a hundred sizeable merchantmen,
than there is in building a cock-boat on an ordinary slip.
The masting and rigging are performed opposite to where
the mast-ponds and rope-walks are ; the guns and shot are
taken in at the gun wharves, where the quantity of both is
immense; and the victualling department is dispersed over
various parts of Portsmouth and Gosport ; but they are ad
mirably situated for facilitating the preparation of a ship for
sea. Upon the whole, the manufactory of ships of war, is
certainly the largest, probably the most important, and un
questionably the most complete and admirably managed, in
the British dominions.
The most interesting operations, at least in the eyes of an
ordinary visitor, which are carried on within the dock area,
are the block-making machinery, and the preparation of the
copper for sheathing. The whole processes of the former ope
ration may be seen in the course of one visit ; and a stranger
may see a block formed out of the timber, and finished
in less time than we would require to describe, or name the
different parts of the operation. The rolling of the copper
is less ingenious, because the operations are very simple ;
but still it is well worthy of a visit. The anchor-forge, when
in operation, is a splendid establishment ; and when we con-

216 SOUTHERN SLOPE.
sider the magnitude of the articles made, and the great ham
mering that they require, in order to give them the requisite
toughness and elasticity, we cannot help regarding the ma
nufacture of them as one of the most extraordinary sights in
this very extraordinary place.
It is in vain however, to attempt anything like a selection,
and it would be equally in vain to attempt a verbal descrip
tion of this the most magnificent of all our national esta
blishments. To be appreciated, and even to be understood,
the naval works and workings at Portsmouth must be visit
ed; and it reflects ho small credit on the government and
on those who have the local management, that the whole
of these splendid operations and collections can be seen
readily and without a fee — which fee is felt by foreigners as
a mean stigma at many other places in England. An intro
duction no doubt must be had, but if the party obtain one,
and the obtaining is not difficult, he may delight himself for
a day or even a succession of days at Portsmouth ; and when
he quits it he will carry with him a tale worth telling, of
the magnificence of the wooden walls of Old England.

l-§

< S

THE NEW FOREST. 217

CHAPTER IX.
THE NEW FOREST.
The district of the New Forest, is one of the most peculiar,
if not the most interesting, in England. It forms, as it
were, a country apart, having its own distinctive character.
Its situation is not insular in a physical point of view, for
only the south side and about one-third of the north-east are
bounded by the sea; but, in so far as regards Hampshire, it
is nearly insulated : the distance from the tide-way in the
Test at Redbridge being only five miles eastward of Cad-
nam bridge on the borders of Wilts, and the remaining
land boundaries being Wilts on the north, and Dorset on
the west. In so far, indeed, it is detached from these coun
ties, though not insulated-; for, generally speaking, the
lines of boundary lie over downs and heaths, some of which
are of the most bleak and sterile character, though even
they are spotted here and there with rich patches and bot
toms. The greatest peculiarity of the district is the contrast of
the central parts with the outskirts, especially those along
the sea, — that is, along the Southampton Water on the
north-east, and the Solent along the south-east as far as
Hurst castle, and then the Channel along the south as far as
the boundary of Dorset, which is at Durley chine, situated
VOL. II. FF

218 THE NEW FOREST.
about two miles north-east of the entrance to Pool harbour.
Diversity rather than richness is, however, the character of
even those boundaries ; for while they in some places con
sist of very sweet alternations of glade and woodland, in
others they are as sterile as can be imagined. With but
few exceptions, and they will be noticed afterwards, the
boundaries of the New Forest are private property, differently
cultivated, according to the nature of the soil and the taste
of the owners ; and there are various manors, lands attached
to lodges, and other spots held as property, here and there
over the surface. But, with these exceptions, the New Fo
rest district, that is, the Forest itself, with the surrounding
manors and purlieus, bears some resemblance to one of
those larger islands in the Pacific, which have their margins
settled by people in so far civilised, and carrying on trade,
while the interior is in a state of nature.
This has, in all probability, been the condition of the
district from very early times, not only from the time of
the Conquest, but anterior even to the arrival of the Ro
mans. It is true, that William stands accused of having
depopulated this district for the purpose of turning it into a
forest ; and the monkish chroniclers rate him, in no very
measured terms, for the desolation and the sacrilege perpe
trated by him in this devoted district. " In the wood which
is called the New Forest/' says Henry of Huntingdon,
" churches and villas wTere eradicated, the people extirpated, .
and it was made a habitation of wild beasts," Again, says
Brompton, " the New Royal Forest, Called in English Ytene,
in which William the Bastard drove out the people, demo
lished the villages, and despoiled the churches, for more than
thirty miles in length, and converted it into a dwelling of,
wild beasts." The Historian of Winton is yet more lachry
mose, as well as more circumstantial respecting, the state of
the district, anterior to its being razed and afforested by the
victorious but merciless William. " For thirty miles and
more," says he, " where aforetime there were human dwell
ings, and land abounding in corn and in fruits," — for so the

THE NEW FOREST. 219
words terra fructif era, necnon frugif era, may be rendered —
" he extirpated the dwellings, rooted up the orchards and
gardens, with even the churches and the burying grounds ;
and the whole was turned into a desert and place of sport
for wild beasts, by the order of the king." Knighton yet
farther amplifies the matter, though, as he alludes not to the
Conqueror but to' his son Rufus, who ultimately paid the
penalty of his hunting in this forest, he thereby throws a
little confusion upon the story. " This William (Rufus)"
says he, " made forests in many places through the centre
of the kingdom ; and, between Southampton and the priory
of Twynam, which is now called Christchurch, he leveled
twenty-two mother churches, with villages, chapels, manors,
and mansions — fifty-two parishes according to some; and
he made the New Forest, which he called his New Garden,
and he replenished the same with stags, and deer, and other
wild beasts — giving them a holiday for the first seven
years." This, it must be admitted, was sad work — that is, if it
happened to be true ; but the very circumstance of the de
vastation increasing in atrocity, in proportion to the time
elapsed before the account was written, throws a doubt
upon it; and we shall find that this doubt is strengthened
to a perfect contradiction, as well by history, as by the
stronger testimony of nature. Among the early historians,
we need only mention that the author of the Saxon Chroni
cle, which was written in or immediately after the reign of
William the Conqueror, says nothing about the spoliation of
this part of Hants ; though he does mention the several atro
cities of William, not forgetting to close the list with an
account of the dreadful famine and pestilence, which, accord
ing to most of the monkish writers, though not expressly or
strongly according to the chronicler, was a demonstration of
Divine justice, in vengeance for the atrocities of this cruel
king. Now, this last matter, although not confined exclu
sively to monachists and other miracle-mongers, places the
justice of the Being, from whom the vengeance is said to
ff 2

220 THE NEW FOREST.
have come, in a very singular light. William the Conqueror
oppressed the people, razed their habitations, cast down
their churches, overturned their altars, and perpetrated the
greatest violence to man, and the greatest impiety in the
sight of Heaven ; and for as much as he, William the Con
queror, was thus outrageously guilty, the Almighty vindi
cated the integrity of Eternal justice by sending famine and
pestilence — upon the people of England, who had suffered
all the injury, while the Conqueror himself never had a
head-ache nor was stinted of a dinner ! This, we are sorry
to say it, is but too common with those who are piously
fletant about the tyranny of rulers and the suffering of na
tions ; and yet it is impossible to imagine a more direct
charge of cruelty and injustice against the Divine Being ;
for, if man perpetrates iniquity upon man, what sort of jus
tice would it be in the God of mercy to smite the sufferers %
In truth, the very naming of such calamities of nations as
being punishments of Heaven, specially inflicted, in ven
geance for the crimes either of rulers or of nations, in itself
clearly shows, that the minds of the parties so imagining
are quite unfit for bringing to issue any historical or other
question in which the least doubt is involved. It may be
all very true, that, from the unjust manner in which Wil
liam dispossessed the Saxon lords, and bestowed their lands
upon his favourites and followers ; from the violent means
which he took to enforce the feudal law upon the native
population ; and, above all, from the violent resistance which
was made to his measures, the disturbed state of the coun
try may have occasioned the famine ; and that, again, the
pestilence, though certainly not in consequence of any spe
cial judgment of Heaven. In modern times, we are fortu
nately exempted from those great national commotions, and
also, in a great measure, from those contingencies of nature
which are the natural causes of famine; but enough re
mains to show us what would be the natural succession of
things, in a state of society so rude and unsettled as that of
England was at the time of the Conquest. Mild in com-

THE NEW FOREST. 221
parison as our years of dearth have of late been; and distant
as" they have been from famine, even to any one class of
the people ; yet there is always an indication of disease that
follows after the indication of famine, as a very obvious
natural consequence ; and this shows that if the antecedent
were brought up to the same degree of horror as in ancient
times, the same would be the case with the consequent.
There is no doubt that famine could be brought about by
an adequate degree of oppression and the suspension of in
dustry, in any age or country ; and there is just as little
doubt that were this to be the -case, disease, equivalent in
effect to pestilence whatever might be its type, would be
the consequence. We mention this as one ground of cau
tion necessary to be observed by every one who wishes to
judge candidly and correctly of the accounts of William and
his immediate successor, and of the vengeance inflicted by
Heaven upon the country and upon them, — subjects which
are almost certain to be suggested by even a simple allu
sion to the New Forest ; and which subjects have been the
themes of so much declamation, both in prose and in verse,
that the popular echo of them — which is always floating
about, is somewhat hostile to a fair and philosophical judg
ment. And, though this is only a forest, misapprehension
on the subject of it, is very apt to taint the foundation of
one's estimate of the whole history of the country. We
shall therefore offer a few further remarks in this place, so
that we may enter upon our survey of the Forest, as free as
possible from all prejudice and means of error.
The epithet " New," which appears to have been given to
this forest originally by William, shows that there were other
forests which had existed before this one obtained the name
and had forest law applied to it. It does not hence follow
however, that either this forest, or any other forest in Eng
land, was made by the dismissal of a large number of people,
the demolition of their habitations, and the planting of the
localities with trees. Forest planting, at least upon any
considerable scale, is comparatively modern in England ;

222 THE NEW FOREST.
and we have great doubts whether a single forest tree was
planted, or a single nursery of plants existed out of which
such a tree could be obtained, until many years after the
Conquest. There is natural evidence of this found in the
timber of all the very old buildings, wherever such timber
exists ; for this timber, if freely exposed to the air, and
protected from the direct action of the sun and the atmos
phere, is as perfect now as when it was placed in the build
ing. No timber of trees which have once passed through
the hands of the nurseryman, so as to be forced in their in
fancy beyond their proper natural habit, has this dura
bility ; and it appears that, if artificial growth has once
weakened the character of a tree, no future progeny of the
same tree can regain the exact quality of which the culti
vation deprived it. But, in so far as the trees of the New
Forest are ascertained to be self-planted, we believe they
are found to possess all the durability of the ancient oaks ;
and this circumstance is well nigh conclusive against the
fact of any planting of this forest.
It will however be said, that it does not necessarily follow
from the turning of this district into a forest, that William
the Conqueror, or whoever else did the deed, planted it with
trees, for there are some forests which do not contain a sin
gle tree. But the original term was applied to surfaces
which were so much tangled by wood or brake, that the
chase could not be followed upon them on horseback; and,
in law, "forests" were royal, and the hunting-grounds of
subjects were " chaces." If a numerous population adequate
to the maintenance of fifty or even twenty parish churches,
had existed in this part of Hampshire previous to 1079,
when it was understood to have been afforested by William,
no tree, such as that from which the arrow of Tyrrel is said to
have glanced, could have grown up in the twenty-one years
which intervened between the afforestation and the death of
Rufus. A planted forest requires a long time before it is
thickly sheltered with timber; and therefore, the district in
question must have been a thickly wooded one, probably much

THE NEW FOREST. 223
more so than it is now, even long before the Conquest ; and
instead of the Conqueror demolishing so many churches, and
depopulating so many parishes, as the monkish writers allege,
it is very probable that he did not destroy a single human
habitation, but merely extended forest law to that portion of
the district which was without inhabitants, covered by furze
and heath in great part of its surface, and having trees of
more or less stunted character on some of the richer spots,
just as is the case at the present day.
The character of the soil, that is the sub-soil, which is in
most places so near the surface that none but the hardiest
plants of the wilderness will thrive or indeed exist except
by artificial means, is conclusive evidence, either that Wil
liam, or whoever else was the party accused, never expelled
a population from this part of England, or that they did a
great deal more — made the people take all the fertile land
along with them ; for there are few poorer districts within the
four seas than very many parts of this same New Forest ;
and the number of naturally fertile acres in it would not
waste much arithmetic in the counting. Besides, a country
can never be in a very high state of cultivation for any
length of time, without leaving some memorials, and of such
memorials there are none to be found, except those which
have occurred long since the Conquest, and which have had
very limited causes, compared with that for which the Con
queror is blamed, and on account of which the special ven
geance of Heaven is said to have been inflicted upon his
people and progeny.
Such being the facts of the case — quite accordant with
reason in so far as they are historical, and easily put to the
proof in so far as they are natural — it becomes both a curious
and important enquiry, why William was thus falsely re
presented. This is curious, because the assertion gratifies
no apparent feeling, saving that of the love of gloating over
human misery ; and it is important, because if falsehood is
once established on this point, the veracity of those who
asserted or repeated the falsehood may be justly questioned

224 THE NEW FOREST.
on every other subject whereof they treat. For instance,
the curfew and the observances connected with it, which
have been so generally described and regarded as proceedings
of the most wantonly tyrannical despotism, and for which
no adequate rational cause on the part of the Conqueror
can be, or at least has been, assigned, had probably an object
altogether different. No doubt these were in part precau
tionary measures to prevent the Saxons from entering into
conspiracies against William and his followers ; but it is well
known that the English were in those days very much ad
dicted to nocturnal revels, in the course of which much mis
chief was often done; and it was by no means improbable
that William's object, at least in part, was to introduce
a more decorous observance of hours, which, though it no
doubt tended to increase the revenue and strengthen the
power of the king, was yet more beneficial to the people
themselves. Several historians, and Voltaire among the rest, have de
fended the conduct of a monarch who levied hearth taxes, and
would consequently be careful not to diminish the number of
hearths to such an extent as this would have diminished
them, — and all for the mere making of a hunting ground,
which would not have been available for the purpose during
the whole term of his life. In as far as the policy of William,
and his object of levying as much money from the people of
England for the continental wars as he possibly could, are
concerned, this argument seems to be conclusive ; but still,
the strength of the case lies in the fact of the New Forest
being, in great part at least, under forest vegetation before
William extended forest law to it. At or near the place where
Rufus fell, there were charcoal burners regularly established,
which is not likely to have been the case, in a forest of only
twenty years standing. Another point is, that William could
not have planted a forest, and stocked it with red and fallow
deer at the same time ; because these animals would as cer
tainly have destroyed the young trees in this part of Hamp
shire, as they would do in other places. The greatest herd

THE NEW FOREST. 225
of red deer now existing in the kingdom, is that belonging
to the duke of Athol, on the mountains of Minigag, between
Athol and Badenoch, and throughout the whole of their
range there is not a single young tree of any description,
nor can a plantation be made unless it is completely fenced
against them. Therefore, taking in the whole scope of the
argument, we may safely conclude, that, other than convert
ing a natural forest into a royal one, William occasioned
little or no alteration in the condition of this district, even
to the demolition of a single house, to say nothing about
the churches, which have been represented as being so nu
merous, and upon the demolition of which the gravemen of
his offence is rested by the monks.
The very learned, and often candid, though somewhat pre
judiced and polemical Dr. Milner is, in his History of Win
chester, put to some shifts upon this point ; and reminds one
somewhat of the personage described by Sir Walter Scott as
devoting one eye to the Bible and the other to the bee-hives.
The doctor's clerical predilections, it would be unfair to
call them prejudices, go along with the monks, even to a
miracle ; but his laical sense is constantly stirring up some
little doubts as to whether this monarch had not other mo
tives. He however falls into the common error of his autho
rities in supposing that Doomsday Book got its name from
its being the record of a more severe doom than even the
last judgment: " Vocatus est Domysday," says Rudborne,"
quia nulla parcit, secut nee magus dies judicii." Now,
though to the pious Chronicler, the drawing up of this Sta
tistical account of great part of the kingdom — and it was
nothing more than this in reality, might appear more terrible
than any other judgment, yet it was in itself more praise
worthy than censurable, inasmuch as it shewed a desire on
the part of the king, to know the resources of his country,
and in whose custody they were ; a proceeding in which he
merely imitated the example of the illustrious Alfred. In
passing we may remark that the name of this record means
nothing more than the judgment which was awarded upon
VOL II. GG

226 THE NEW FOREST.
the value and holding of lands by a jury ; and, while allud
ing to names, it may be mentioned that " Ytene " the old
name of the whole of this district, may be rendered the insu
lar or detached wood or wooded country ; which is a farther
corroboration of the fact that William dispersed no inhabi
tants, and levelled no houses or churches in this district;
neither did he, in all probability, send any stockof deer to it,
as these animals were at one time pretty abundant in this
part of the country.
The question as to why the charge has been so boldly and
so generally made, remains therefore to be noticed, before we
get entirely rid of this preliminary subject ; and the solution
is not difficult to find. There is no doubt that the clergy of
the time had acquired a complete ascendancy over the minds
of the Saxon kings, and the more wealthy and influential of
the ealdermen and earls, by encouraging them to the com
mission of offences at one time, and frightening them with
the consequences at another, until they had got the greater
part of the civil power, and no small portion of the temporal
posessions and property. The Saxons appear, from this and
from some other causes, to have been pretty deeply sunk in
ignorance and its concomitant vices, at the time when the
Normans came among them ; and though the latter certainly
had no very just claims to goodness, yet they appear to have
had far more energy of character than the Saxons ; but they
preferred institutions of their own endowment; and for a time
these were mostly filled by foreigners. The Normans were
accordingly not of so giving a disposition as the Saxons had
been, and more than this, William actually ejected several of
the ecclesiastics from the more wealthy benefices, and
bestowed these upon his relations and followers. These
circumstances of course rendered William and his immediate
successors not a little odious in the eyes of the monks ; and
it is for this reason that these pious persons have mingled so
much assafoetida in the wherewithal in which they have
embalmed his memory.
That William was anything but a tyrant, it would be not

THE NEW FOREST. 227
only unjust but useless to allege, for tyranny was then the
order of the day with every one who had the power of ex
ercising it ; and society had not advanced so far as to look
upon the semblance of mildness and forbearance in opposi
tion to very different feelings within, as the livery of good
breeding and high rank. It is possible, that those in the
same rank in society, and possessing the same power, as the
Conqueror and his successors and their barons, — if such
power be now possessed by any one, are not better than the
Conqueror ; but the law, the custom, or the habit of. society,
renders it necessary for them to be a good deal more harm
less ; or, if their propensities are strong the other way, they
sometimes direct them against themselves and become the
lamentation of that society of which they should be the
ornaments. These matters are, however, foreign to our
main subject, any further than that it is necessary to say
something toward the removal or mitigation connected with
the supposed desolation that preceded the afforestation of
this district, before we can enter even into a brief survey of
it, in such a way as to be secure against error. Having
done this, we shall proceed to notice some of the more pro
minent circumstances connected with it ; and, in order that
we may be enabled to do this as briefly and as clearly as
possible, we shall consider them under different heads.
EXTENT, COASTS, AND BOUNDARIES.
We are, then, to consider the New Forest district of
Hampshire as a detached portion of the mainland of the
county, different in its general character, formation, and ap
pearance, from that which lies across the Southampton Wa
ter to the north-east. In so far as it is forest, it has its own
peculiar laws, though these are now very different from
what the Forest Law was in the days of its rigour ; and in
this respect, the forest may be looked upon as a sort of
monument by means of which we can conjure up the ima
gination of the past, and contrast it with the reality of the
present. In as far as those laws, or the remnant of them are
gg 2

228 THE NEW FOREST.
concerned, the forest portion has its own capital, and its
own court. Then, as the districts not included in the fo
rest are, excepting a comparatively small portion of the
north-east, divided from the rest of Hampshire by the
whole breadth of the forest, and as they lie pretty wide of
each other, and some of them are separated by barren
tracks, they become, to a very considerable extent, detached
districts, each having its own distinct society, and pursuing
its own plans.
The form of the entire district gives nearly that of a tri
angle, though of one, the sides of which deviate much from
the straight line. The extreme points are : on the east,
Calshot castle, on the south side of the entrance to the
Southampton Water ; on the south-west, as already noticed,
Durley chine, one of those ravines or notches formed by
land springs, or surface water, in the soft and crumbling
cliffs, of various beds of tertiary formation, which are ex
posed to the ravages of the sea along the entire portion of
that coast at this district, which extends from Hurst castle
to the western boundary of the county ; and the north-west
point is at the Black hill, on Combe down, about five miles
to the south-west of Salisbury.
The straight lines joining these three points, fall more
within than without the district, and do not entirely enclose
it ; but still if we consider them as doing so, we shall have
an approximation near enough for ail purposes of ordinary
reference. The lines from Calshot castle, respectively, to
the Black hill, on the north-west, and to Durly chine, on
the south-west, are each about twenty-eight miles in length,
and the western line joining their extremities is about
twenty-two miles. These measures are a very little greater
than the truth, though the difference is exceedingly trifling;
and therefore, if we take the area of a triangle of which they
form the three sides, we shall have the surface of the dis
trict near enough for common purposes. Now the surface
of this triangle is, in round numbers, about 282 square
miles, or nearly 180,000 imperial acres ; and of this, about

THE NEW FOREST. 229
one-half, or more than 90,000' acres, are included within
the perambulation of the Forest, and of these nearly 64,000
are forest-land, and the rest held with lodges, or are other
wise not in the actual possession of the crown. It is worthy
of remark, as an easy point of artificial memory, that the
surface of forest-land in the district, is just about equal to a
square of about ten miles in the side. Of the 64,000 acres
of forest-land, only a moderate portion is covered with tim
ber ; and not very much of that which is in the occupation
of individuals, can be characterised as rich land., Of the
particular surfaces we shall speak when we come to the
topographical details ; but we may mention generally, that
as the whole district is on the tertiary formation, consisting
in many places of cold tough clays, or beds of very reten
tive gravel, some of the bottoms contain a greater extent of
bog and quagmire than occurs in all the rest of Hampshire.
The land boundaries of the district, whether in the few
miles across the marshy grounds from the head of the South
ampton Water to Cadnam, or on the confines of Wilts and
Dorset, have no particular interest about them ; generally
speaking, they lie along grounds of comparatively little
value, being across elevations of the sand, gravel, or clay ;
but as there are no chalk heights, at least none where chalk
appears uppermost, though it is probably, indeed we may
say certainly, a substratum under the whole district, and
consequently, there is none of the fine velvety turf which is
found on the chalk downs, and forms such an appropriate
pasturage for sheep. In tracing the boundaries, we shall
begin at Cadnam bridge, which, as we have said, is about
five miles to the westward of the Test at Redbridge. The
road across the marshes of Redbridge, by the village of Tot-
ton, over Netley marsh, and through a district diversified
by wood, may be taken as the most marked line of distinc
tion between the district of the lower valley of the Test,
and that under consideration. Cadnam is on the edge of
the forest, and it is a remarkable point from the number of
roads that meet at the village. The road from Redbridge

230 THE NEW FOREST.
passes onward to Downton in Wilts, where it joins the
main road that traverses the valley of the Avon. Another
road, from London through Winchester and Romsey, crosses
the one last-mentioned, and proceeds onward through Ring-
wood to Poole ; and a third proceeds directly south, through
Lyndhurst and Brockenhurst to Lymington, — the last two
being the principal roads which traverse the New Forest.
In proceeding west and north, and then southward along
the line of the boundary, all the way from Cadnam bridge
to the bay of Poole, the New Forest district is everywhere
on the left-hand, and Wilts and Dorset in succession on the
right. The first mile and half are nearly westward along the
margin of a wooded part along the forest land. This ter
minates at the village of Brook, near the source of the
southern branch of the small river which joins the Test at
Redbridge ; and at this point, a road, by Landford and
White Parish to Salisbury, branches off to the right of the
road to Downton. The boundary proceeds northward along
the road for rather more than two miles, in which space there
are a number of cottages, and the extremity is at the north
east angle of Bramshaw wood, which juts into the extensive
commons of Hamptworth and West Wellow, which with the
continuation of Downton common form a natural boundary
between Wilts and this district of Hants, to within about a
mile and a half of the main stream of the Avon. The naked
downs or commons are in Wilts, though a portion of Hants
also is bleak, — there being a summit-level here, nearly in the
direction of the boundary. From the angle of Bramshaw
wood, the boundary takes a turn a little to the southward of
the west, and meets the road to Downton at Bramshaw
Telagraph, about two miles to the west of the angle alluded
to. From the Telagraph, it follows nearly the direction of
the road for about two miles and three-quarters along the
summit of the down to Downton common, whence it stretches
westward for about four miles to Gallows hill on Breamore
down on the right bank of the Avon. In the course of this
reach, the boundary crosses the Avon about a mile below

THE NEW FOREST. 231
Downton ; and the water-meadows upon that river here
are about three-quarters of a mile in breadth. From the
angle at Breamore down, the boundary passes south west
ward for three quarters of a mile along Grimsditch, an old
line of fortification, which extends about a couple of miles in
length from Castle ditches or Whitchbury, northward. This
is an ancient hill-fort but it is not in Hants, though a loop
of the boundary lies only half-a-mile east and west of it, and
extends about a mile and three furlongs south, — the southern
angle being in the copses of Brookheath. Two miles south,
where it leaves Grimsditch, from Brookheath, the boundary
extends north and west to Combe down, in a very bleak part
of the country, about two miles and a half north-west of
Castle ditches ; and it makes a detour south-west and then
south-east upon the downs, until it again approaches within
a mile and a quarter of the point at Brookheath ; and then it
forms an irregular line of about a mile and three-quarters,
to near Hockle hill on the Damerham brook which flows
eastward to the Avon. This brook forms the boundary for
about a mile; and at more than another mile eastward
the town of Fordingbridge is situated at the confluence of
one or two small brooks with the Avon ; and the bridge over
the river, from which the town takes the latter part of its
name, is about a mile within the boundary of the county.
No part of this very irregular corner of the district is inclu
ded in the forest lands ; and the extreme north-west lies high
and is exceedingly sterile. From the point nearFordingbridge
southward, the boundary may still be said to be in great part
a natural one, lying along very dreary heaths and downs, or
sometimes on the one edge of them and sometimes on the
other, for three miles, south of Fordingbridge to Bleakhill
the boundary lies parallel to the river, and is nowhere more
than a mile and a half distant from it ; but at Bleakhill it
turns westward, for a mile and a half; and then its course
is southward, over dreary moors for the most part, till it
reaches the sea in Poole bay. From the angle to the west
ward of Bleakhill, it crosses the heaths and moors for about

232 THE NEW FOREST.
four miles, and then meets the Cranbourne river at Wool-
bridge, three miles to the west of Ringwood; and this
small river forms the boundary for about two miles and a
half., Beyond this the boundary extends for about two miles
and a half over Parley common, and to the south of this
common it crosses the river Stour, between the villages of
West and East Parley, the first being in Dorset, and the
second in Hants. From the valley of the Stour, southward,
the boundary lies over the barren regions of Wallis and
Poole heaths, and this terminates the circumambulation of
the New Forest, in so far as the land boundary is con
cerned It may be remarked that, except where the valleys of
the rivers and brooks which flow from Wilts and Dorset are
concerned, the boundaries of this part of Hampshire are
much better defined by nature than we generally meet with
in the artificial divisions of counties. The forest lands
touch on the boundary at comparatively few places, — not
above five miles, in two places, first to the westward of Cad
nam, and secondly from Bramshaw wood, westward, for
about four miles ; and thus the whole of the valley of the
Avon, with the moors and heaths on the right bank, as far
as the boundary of the "county, are without the forest juris
diction. In tracing the sea-boundaries, or coasts, we shall begin
at the same point, namely Redbridge ; and thence we shall
proceed, with the sea on the left, and the land on the right,
until we come to the opposite termination of the land boun
dary. The average lengths of the several portions of the coast,
omitting the minor irregularities, are nearly as follows: —
From Redbridge, south-eastward to Calshot castle, about
eleven miles. From Calshot castle to Hurst castle, west
ward of south, about fourteen miles ; from Hurst castle, to
Hengistbury head, almost directly west on the straight line,
but with an inbend of nearly two miles in depth to the
north forming Christchurch bay, about ten miles ; and from

THE NEW FOREST 233
Hengistbury head to Durley chine, about seven miles on the
straight line, with an inbend of about a mile toward the
north. The main lines of shore of the New Forest district, taken
without reference to the estuaries, creeks, and smaller in
dentations, amount therefore, to a total length of forty-four
miles, which does not differ more than a mile from the
length of the land boundary, if similar allowances are made
for the minor inequalities of both; and it is not a little
remarkable, that if a diagonal is taken from the junctions
of the sea and land boundaries at Redbridge and Durley
chine, this diagonal divides the entire area into two parts
almost exactly equal, and passes through the town of Lynd
hurst, the metropolis of the forest, — that town being about
six miles on the straight line from the Redbridge extremity
of the diagonal, and about twenty-one from the Durley
chine end. The coast presents no rock toward the sea, in
any part of its extent ; and wherever there are bold cliffs,
those cliffs are the result of simple marine and atmospheri
cal action, and not formations that have been produced by
any of the more uncommon and energetic operations of na
ture. In so far as mere position is concerned, the district
has eleven miles of north-easterly coast and thirty-one
miles of south-easterly, the main point of division in respect
of locality, being Calshot castle. But Hurst castle is the
point of physical division, in as far as the sea and the action
of the weather, and the resulting characters and changes of
the lines of coast are concerned ; and, making this the point
of division, there are twenty-five miles to the east and north
of Hurst castle, and seventeen miles to the west.
In a physical point of view, these two sections of the coast
are the opposites of each other. To the north and east of
Hurst castle, the water is not now making, nor has it for a
very long time made, the smallest inroad upon the land, at ,
any one single point. The slope toward the water is gene
rally very gentle and gradual, and even when there are escarp
ments of bolder character, these escarpments have generally
VOL. II, HH

234 THE NEW FOREST.
some portion of under-cliff, or low and flat ground, between
them and the ordinary high water mark. The beaches too
are rarely found scoured by any strong action of the water ;
and sand and gravel are by no means so much exposed at
low water, as one would be prepared to expect on the shores
of a district which is in great part composed of these for
mations. The whole of these shores are in fact deposit-shores,
upon which the quantity and quality of material left, depend
very much upon the position of the line of shore, and the dis
tance of the place from the point at which the depositations
commence. From Hurst castle westward, on the other
hand, the coasts present cliffs of various degrees of boldness,
and composed of different beds of the tertiary formation.
These are in a state of constant disintegration, partly by the
direct action of the sea, but more by that of the weather, as
acting immediately upon the face of the cliff, and by means
of land springs upon the strata. In consequence of these
circumstances, the two bays of which this westerly part of
the coast is made up, do not contain a single harbour, or
creek, or a safe anchorage, with the solitary exception of the
harbour at Christchurch, which is partly defended from the
weather by the elevation of the Hengistbury head, and from
the direct set of the tide, by the peculiar bend of the coast ;
but which would long ere now have been choked up and ob
literated had it not been for the quantity of water discharged
by the united streams of the Avon and the Stour, and the
scouring produced by the tide as it ebbs from the ample
surface of the harbour. Excepting this, there is not along
the whole seventeen miles, a safe accommodation for any
species of craft ; and it is not in every state of the weather,
that even the smugglers, daring and reckless as they are of
life as well as of law, can venture to approach this perilous
shore. The cliffs along these bays have in some places a height
of from 150 to 200 feet; but they are destitute of every
attribute both of picturesque effect and of every grandeur ;
and the only general idea which they suggest is that of a

THE NEW FOREST. 235
progress of destruction, which man cannot arrest, but which
creeps slowly on by that stealthy kind of march, which
partakes not even of the grandeur of whelming ruin. The
map would tell any one this, without an actual knowledge
of the ground, only, unless cliffs were marked on the map,
and it were not known that the sea is dispersing and not
gathering here, one would conclude that this part of the
New Forest district was margined by -dull flat beaches of
sand ; for the curvature of both beaches is so regular, that
any one would perceive the incompatibility of their out
lines with such a rocky shore, as would impart anything
like grandeur to the meeting of sea and land. It has been
stated that the average advance of the sea upon the land
here is at the rate of about thirty feet annually, and that
it is greatest in the deep bight to the eastward of Christ
church. It must be admitted that, even though some at
tempts have been made to force artificial ornaments upon
the ground above these cliffs, there are not many places
where the sea could carry on the work of demolition with
less national loss ; for the land is naturally of a very sterile
character ; and it is so scourged by the storms of the south
and west, that no vegetation of great value could be raised
upon it. There are comparatively few trees, and the very
few that are met with, are dwarfed and stunted, and neither
very ornamental, nor very useful. We shall, however,
speak of the character of the surface afterwards.
All sorts of weather conduce, in some degree, to the disin
tegration of this bulwark of mud. If the rain beats against
it, it soaks into the clayey and marly parts of the strata, and
gives them a softness, so" that they are in part pressed out
by the harder strata 6f gravel ; while in drought, their di
rect exposure to the heat of the mid-day sun, causes them to
champ and open, so as more readily to admit the next rain
which may come ; and also, if there should be frost, which
is never very intense here, the clay is torn by the expan
sion which the water in it undergoes in the act of congela
tion. The wind may, perhaps however, be regarded as the
HH 2

236 THE NEW FOREST.
most powerful assgilant ; for it comes unbroken from the
sea, and beats with great force along the whole face of the
rampart, and is condensed, and deposits rain there and in
the vicinity, in states of the weather, during which, if
the transition from sea to land were gradual, not even a
cloud would be formed. This is one reason why so much
of the country immediately behind those cliffs is sterile on
the heights, and has a tendency to marsh and bog in the
holloas ; but by these very means, it, in all probability,
conduces not a little to the advantage of the whole county,
by breaking the violence of the storms so near the coast.
The curvature of the bays, of course aggravates the local
mischief, but at the same time tends '.proportionately to the
general conservation. It is the increase of bight, or curva
ture, in these bays, more especially in that of Christchurch,
which has occasioned, and still continues to occasion, the
lengthening of the shingle causeway at Hurst castle ; and
that again is the cause of the very different character of the
coasts to the eastward and northward of that castle, as well
as the increased demolition of the coast of the Isle of
Wight from the Needles eastward. The sea does not come
fully up to the base of the cliffs even at high water : for
there is a tidal beach of sand and gravel along the whole
or the greater part of the line. This beach does not how
ever, increase in breadth, and diminish in slope, in propor
tion to the demolition which is going on ; for great part
of the heavier matters is carried to the shingle banks,
while the lighter matters are carried round Hurst castle,
and gradually dropped in the eddy. Such are the outlines
of almost all that can be said of the western part of the
coast of the New Forest ; and from this it will appear
that there is but small attraction either in the physical cha
racters or in the scenery.
The north and east coasts are very different in their phy
sical character ; and both in a social and scenic point of view,
they are far more interesting ; nor is it easy to imagine a
place where so much effect is produced by the blending of

THE NEW FOREST. 237
land and water, and copse and glade. It is true that, in this
again, there is nothing grand or picturesque, although no one
can refuse to admit that those blendings of land and water,
wood and wild, are exceedingly beautiful ; and as the water
makes its appearance in many situations where no one would
suppose that it has the best connection with the sea, the
country here, especially that opposite to the Isle of Wight
has what may be considered a very unnatural character in
nature, namely, an assemblage of lakes with clean banks,
and embodied among trees, but without the usual concomi
tants of mountains and rocks. This, it must be admitted, is
a little out of nature ; and one who has been accustomed to
see and examine the component parts of scenery in their
harmonious connection, would be apt to come to the conclu
sion that some art must have been practiced before those
sweet little lakes could have an existence in places which are
otherwise so very unlakelike. If one lingers a few hours, or
returns after a few hours have elapsed, one is apt to suppose
that there is something here analagous to those lakes in
Southern Austria which alternately drink and return their
waters according to the season ; for, in this brief space of
time, the supposed lake will have vanished, and in its place
there will remain that which has very much the appearance
of a green meadow, from the thick covering of marine vege
tation upon the spots from which the water has withdrawn.
The sea odour, however, which is most conspicuous when
the tide has retired, very soon lets one know that those
fancied lakes, are nothing more than sinuous creeks into
which the tide flows, and which are laid dry at its every ebb.
The bank which is deposited along the whole line of the
coast from Redbridge to Hurst castle, and which varies in
breadth and in consistency in different places, but generally
becomes broader and softer from Redbridge to Calshot, and
from Calshot to Hurst, is the feature of this coast which forms
the most striking contrast with the portion towards the
west. In the upper part, that is from Redbridge to South
ampton, it is nowhere much above a furlong in breadth, and

238 THE NEW FOREST.
its consistence is firm ; and along the whole line of the South
ampton Water as far as Calshot, there is no creek or harbour,
with the exception of that at Eling, about three quarters of
a mile to the south of Redbridge, and formed in the estuary
of a few small streams which meet in one channel here. This
creek has a considerable depth of water ; and for local trade,
as well as for ship-building, it is one of the best little har
bours in the whole of the district.
The country between the Southampton Water and the af
forested grounds, is very beautiful all the way from Eling to
Calshot; and some places are much resorted to for sea bathing.
Newton, about a mile farther down than Eling and opposite
to the village of Millbrook is a pleasant station and so is
Marchwood about three quarters of a mile still farther down.
Another three quarters of a mile brings one to Cracknor
ferry, seven furlongs directly west from Southampton har
bour. The Hard here approaches. From the harbour of
Southampton to Cracknor, is the shortest passage from the
great London road to the New Forest, and it leads by an
easy course to some of the most delightful spots, both of the
forest land, and that which is in the hands of individuals.
Nor is there any doubt that when the completion of the
London and Southampton Railway shall have made its line
the grand channel of pleasure touring with France and all
the southern parts of the continent, it is by no means un
likely that many of them may be induced to take a portion
of their own country in their way, and proceed by this ferry
through the New Forest and the Isle of Wight, than which
there are few short excursions better fitted for rewarding the
labour of those who may be tasteful enough to undertake it.
At Hythe, about two miles and a half below Cracknor, and
opposite to the ruins of Netley abbey, there is another land
ing place for boats ; but the beach along the whole of this
line of the coast is so shelving that there is no landing place
for vessels except the very lightest craft, which, however,
can lie upon the beach with perfect safety, to meet the re
turn of the tide, which is double on all parts of this coast,

THE NEW FOREST. 239
to the extent mentioned in a former chapter of this vo
lume. The line of coast from Calshot to Hurst, as it is the
longest, is also by far the most interesting of any that mar
gin the New Forest district. The whole line of it is pro
tected from every wind that can possibly blow ; and it is
more especially a shore of repose than any other in the
British islands, numerous and varied as these shores are.
The north-east, and the south-west are the winds which
have the most direct access to it; but the violence of both
of them is turned upon the opposite shore of the Isle of
Wight, which, from Cowes, westward, is just as much
scourged by both wind and tide as this coast is protected.
The currents of the air and the sea have not the same
causes, neither do they exactly follow the same laws ; but
yet, as the blast rides upon the billow, there is always as
much concert of action between them, as that we can judge
of the general action of the one by that of the other. If,
for instance, in approaching the sea, one finds the boles of
the trees bent inland, the seaward side almost denuded
of branches and spray, and the little that there is crushed
in upon the stem, one may be sure that the sea will be
found lashing the beach even in its ordinary states, and
thundering upon it when the majesty of the storm is up.
If, on the other hand, the trees " stand equally " upon their
stems as one approaches the coast, one may be sure that
there is no invasion of the land by the sea in such a locality ;
but that, if the sea commits devastation anywhere in the
neighbourhood, the spoils of the disintegrated land will be
left upon that part of the coast where the foliage of the
trees inclines as much to seaward and is as healthy there
as in any other direction. This is the case upon the whole
of the New Forest shore, from Eling all the way to Hurst
castle; for, along all that line, the foliage upon the sea
ward sides of the trees is full and vigorous as it is upon
the sides toward the land, and the boles of them have no
leaning from the sea, any more than they have in any other

240 THE NEW FOREST.
direction. On the opposite side of the Southampton Water,
below the estuary of the Itchen, as may be seen by any one
who takes the delightful walk from Itchen ferry along the
beach to Netley, the influence of the sea air is very diffe
rent ; for the trees, of whatever species they may be, are
bent inland and stunted, so that they are disfigurements
rather than ornaments to the scenery. It is true that, from
the small breadth of the sea, this tree-destroying influence
does not extend far inland — probably not a furlong from
the beach : but along the line of that, it is very conspicuous,
and makes a wonderful contrast with the luxuriant foliage
down to the high- water mark, on some parts of the opposite
shore of ,the same tidal estuary. Nor will the observant
tourist fail to remark that, where this action of the sea air
is visible in the stunting and bending of the trees, the tide
leaves evidence of being more angry upon the beach than it
is in those places where the trees ' have the same uniform
appearance upon all sides, as if they were in an inland situ
ation. *
That portion of the New Forest district shore, which lies
between Calshot and Hurst is, however, the one upon which
the shelter and repose to which we have alluded are the
most remarkable; and for those who wish to have the
freshness of the sea without any of its violence, perhaps this
line is unrivalled by any sea-line in the United Kingdom.
The sea does no more injury to even the most delicate vege
tation than if it were a fresh-water lake of the most pure
and limpid character ; and it is without the monotony which
is produced by the uniform and unvaried level of the water
in such a lake. The chlorine vapour of the sea, has an
effect upon the constitution of animals very different from
the merely aqueous vapour which arises from an inland or
fresh-water lake ; and, unless this is driven against trees or
other vegetables by the fury of an angry wind, it is by no
means hurtful even to them. The miasmata arising from
fresh water, when the plants begin to decay, and when the
small seasonal animals are putrifying, is always injurious to

THE NEW FOREST. 241
animal life. But if the ground is flooded or otherwise kept
in a humid state by salt water, this deleterous effect is more
felt, whatever may be the kind or state of the vegetation.
After the sea has been excluded, the salt-marsh no doubt,
loses a portion of its salubrity, by forming to a certain ex
tent a fresh-water marsh ; for the surface-water when upon
such a marsh, is not only fresh, but the water which peru-
lates from the sea to the roots of the plants is in a great
measure filtered from its saline ingredients. Thus, while
there is nothing of an unhealthy nature in a tidal beach, to
whatever distance the sea may retire from it, the same can
not be said of some of the very same portion of beach, after
it has once been enclosed and drained, or otherwise re
ceived from the sea. It is probable that Romney marsh
in Kent, has been formed by the same kind of action which
is now constantly encreasing the extent of tidal beach on
the Solent coast of the New Forest, and that, while the sea
overflowed it at every tide it was perfectly wholesome ; but
now, notwithstanding its fertility, as a pasture ground es
pecially, it does produce marsh diseases, which extend to
some distance over the adjoining parts of the weald. From
disease of this kind the Solent coast of the New Forest is
entirely free, notwithstanding the extent and sludginess of
its muddy beach.
It is a circumstance worthy of attention that, while the de
composition of land plants in water always produces an un
wholesome air, no such result proceeds from the exposing of
marine plants to the direct action of the atmosphere. This
is true, not only of marine plants, but of the conferva and
others, whose habit it is to grow in running streams, and to
be wholly or chiefly submerged by the current. These ac
tually purify the water ; as any one may see upon examining
a portion of the course of a small river which flows through
a rich and varied district. If at any place such a river is,
by slovenly management or otherwise, allowed to stagnate
upon the meadows, these, whatever may be the climate, very
soon become covered with a stratum of peat, the water gets
VOL. n. n

242 THE NEW FOREST.
a brownish tinge, and the air becomes unwholesome. But
if the water is again collected, and runs with even moderate
velocity through- a bed of confervee, it becomes clear as
crystal, and the banks are clad with kindly vegetation.
These changes may be seen occurring again and again in
any of the south-running rivers in Hampshire, where one
can pass from the mossy tint to the limpid water, in a very
short distance.
The Solent has, upon the banks which margin the south
east of the New Forest, an action which may be said to be
compounded of a fluminal and a tidal action. The current of
the tide races in both directions like that of a river, with a po
sitive transfer of the water, and not a mere propagated wave ;
and then, along with this current, there is an ebbing and flow
ing four times in the course of the lunar day, owing to those
peculiarities of the coast and tide, which we have endeavour
ed to explain in a former chapter. This continual succession
of action, prevents any substance from remaining and putre
fying upon any part of the surface ; and thus, but for the
marine odour, which is wholesome if not agreeable to every
one, the air from these shores is peculiarly refreshing. There
is another matter connected with these mud-banks, which
is worthy of notice, from the influence which it has on
the climate: — when the tide retires there is more vapour
from the mud and sand, with which the surface is covered,
than there would be from an equal extent of water; and
thus the bank sends a refreshing air toward the land, greater
in proportion as the air is stilly and the action of the sum
mer sun intense. Then, in winter, the state of things is
reversed; for when rain or sleet falls upon the bank and
saturates the surface of it with fresh water, the returning
tide produces an elevation of temperature upon it by the salt
water mingling with the fresh — just as takes place at the
top of the brackish water in the tidal estuary of a river.
This would, if the soil were favourable for depositing the
spawn of fishes, be very advantageous to the vitality of that.
But the constant depositing of new matter prevents fish from

THE NEW FOREST. 243
resorting to this shore in any considerable numbers, or of
any very valuable species ; and the quantity of lime in the
silt renders that not the most favourable for molluscous ani
mals ; and thus the banks are not so rich in animal life as
one would be apt to suppose. But there are circumstances
which render these banks peculiarly favourable for dabbling,
or flat-billed birds, vast numbers of which resort to these
places in the winter ; and the capture of them helps to eke
out the scanty livings of the fishermen along the coast.
The current in the Channel, and the frequent ebbing and
flowing of the tide, with the increase of temperature to
which we have alluded, prevent any decided effect of win-.
ter upon these banks, even when the weather is most se
vere; and the consequence is a vast assemblage of wild
ducks whenever the cold is intense. The fishermen look
upon such times as seasons of harvest to them ; but it is a
harvest the reaping of which is very laborious. It is chiefly
during the night that the fowling is carried on ; and it
would be difficult to imagine a more laborious occupation.
The banks cannot be walked over without mud-pattens, or
boards fastened to the feet something in the same manner
as the snow-shoes of the northern nations. Even with the
help of these, they do not range over the mud in search of
their game, for wild ducks are very wary birds and cannot
be successfully approached in this way, The plan is, to
bore silently along the creeks or runs in the sludge ; and
this is a laborious matter in consequence of the sinuosities of
the runs, and the softness of their banks. Owing to the
former, the boat is very apt to get aground ; and, owing to
the latter, it cannot be pushed off again by oar or boat-hook,
as can be done when the banks are firm. Thus, when the
boat does ground, there is no alternative but for the boat
man to get into the water and push it off. In a cold win
ter's night, this is not the most agreeable office ; and thus
the boatman pays dearly for his ducks ; — not only this, for
he sometimes takes wrong ground, and then all his labour
is in vain. Long duck-guns are the weapons used ; and if
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244 THE NEW FOREST.
there is only one man in the boat, he must have two or
three, in order to have even a tolerable chance of success.
None, indeed, can " enjoy " this sport but men who have
been regularly bred to it ; and it is doubtful whether they
could possibly choose a more laborious and less profitable
occupation. The situation and the distance of the birds
have both to be judged of by the " clack " which they make
in feeding, and this requires a practised ear in order to be
anything like certain of success. When the fowler judges,
by the clack, of the direction of the ducks, and the fact of
his being within proper distance of them, he discharges one
of his guns in the direction of the sound, without expecting
to do much more than raise the ducks ;. and immediately
upon this he fires his other gun in the direction of the
sound of the wings. This second shot is sometimes suc
cessful, and sometimes not ; and the fowler has to scramble
over the cold sludge in quest of his game, which he some
times does not find until daylight, and after the flowing tide
has brought it to the shore, or stranded it upon the more
elevated parts of the banks, which have again to be exa
mined when the tide ebbs during the day ; so that, taking
it with all its circumstances, this is one of the most la
borious, unpleasant, and unprofitable occupations in which
any human being can be engaged ; and would not be fol
lowed in any place where there was regular employment
for the working people. It has none of the fearful grandeur
of the rock fowling which is practised upon the precipitous
shores of the northern isles, but it is far more severe ; and
the following anecdote, which we quote from Gilpin, an
author whose language it would be hazardous to alter, will
show that it is not without its horrors. " Mounted on his
mud-pattens, he (the fowler) was traversing one of those
mudland plains in quest of ducks ; and being intent only
on his game, he suddenly found the water, which had been
brought forward with uncommon rapidity by some peculiar
circumstance of tide and wind, had made an alarming pro
gress around him. Encumbered as his feet were, he could

THE NEW FOREST. 245
not exert much expedition ; but to whatever part he ran he
found himself completely invested by the tide. In this un
comfortable situation, a thought struck him as the only
hope of safety. He retired to that part of the plain which
seemed the highest, from its being yet uncovered by the
water ; and, sticking the barrel of his gun (which for the
purpose of shooting wild-fowl was very long) deep into the
mud, he resolved to hold fast by it, as a support as well as
a security against the waves, and to wait the ebbing of the
tide. A common tide, he had reason to believe, would not
in that place have reached above his middle ; but as this
was a spring-tide, and brought in with so strong a current,
he durst hardly expect so favourable a conclusion. In the
mean time, the water, making a rapid advance, had now
reached him : it covered the ground on which he stood, it
rippled over his feet, it gained his knees, — his waist, button
after button was swallowed up, till at length it advanced
over his very shoulders. With a palpitating heart he gave
himself up for lost. Still however, he held fast by his an
chor : his eye was eagerly in search of some boat which
might take its course that way ; but none appeared. A
solitary head, floating on the water, and that sometimes
covered by a wave, was no object to be descried from the
shore at the distance of a league ; nor could he exert any
sounds of distress that could be heard so far. While he
was thus making up his mind, as the exigence would allow,
to the terrors of sudden destruction, his attention was called
to a new object. He thought he saw the uppermost button
of his coat begin to appear. No mariner floating on a
wreck could behold a cape at sea with greater trimsport
than he did the uppermost button of his coat. But the
fluctuation of the water was such, and the turn of the tide
so slow, that it was yet some time before he durst venture
to assure himself that the button was fairly above the level
of the flood. At length, however, a second button appear
ing at intervals, his sensations may rather be conceived than
described, and his joy gave him spirits and resolution to

246 THE NEW FOREST.
support his uneasy situation four or five hours longer, till
the waters had fully retired." — Forest Scenery, Vol. II.
One of the places where aquatic birds are found in great-
est abundance, is near the entrance of the Beaulieu river,
where the banks have considerable depth. This neighbour
hood is not only a great winter resort for common wild
ducks, and many other members of the Anas family, for
numbers of ducks, widgeons, teal, and other species, as well
as many of the running and wading birds, frequent the
marshy and sedgy margins of the creeks, the pools along
the streams and rivers, and those which are inland among
the moors. The Beaulieu river itself is a remarkable inlet,
both on account of the length to which it penetrates inland,
the numerous windings of its course, and the beauty of the
woods upon its banks. As a river, we shall speak of it
afterwards; but we may mention as connected with the
shore, that, at low- water, the entrance is first straight towards
the land about half-a-mile, then westward, bending a little
to the north, to Exbury, where the first road crosses. From
Exbury, its direction is north-westward for about four miles
to Beaulieu; and about half-a-mile above Beaulieu, the
banks contract, and it ceases to have tidal beaches of any
extent. From Exbury upward, the width varies from a
furlong to a quarter of a mile, at high-water, while the
channel, at low-water, is not above a hundred yards across ;
and thus a considerable extent of mud is laid bare at every
ebb-tide. The mud in this, and indeed in all the creeks
which receive the streams of the south-east part of the New
Forest, is not brought down and deposited by the stream—
for the remote feeders of that have their sources in the cold
and hungry patch of crag which occupies the eastern cen
tral part of the district ; and therefore, except a small quan
tity of sand, with moss, and a solution of oxide of iron,
there' is little which these streams can bring down. No part
of the estuary of the Beaulieu river is within the afforested
lands until about a mile and a half to the northward of
Beaulieu, where the sterile moors, and the ramifications of

THE NEW FOREST. 247
the brooks over them begin. Rather more than two miles
east of Exbury, a stream of some magnitude enters the So
lent. This is called Dark Water, from the deep tinge that
its waters receive from the moss and iron of the sterile tract
of Beaulieu heath. The lower part of it is tidal for some
considerable distance; and the banks afford cover in sum
mer for the nesting places of many aquatic birds, which is
also the case with some of the pools on the heath.
Between this and Calshot castle, there are several other
brooks of smaller dimensions, and all of them have the
banks marshy, and tide-ways of some extent or other.
The same holds true with the brooks to the westward of
the Beaulieu river, though in a less degree, as the shore is
in general a little higher. To the westward of Lymington
river, the land is still more elevated ; and though the banks
are of considerable breadth, there is not such cover for birds
inland as upon the shore farther to the east. The tideway
of the Lymington river is about two miles and a quarter
from the seaward edge of the banks to the harbour ; and
the tidal action above this is prevented by an artificial em
bankment to be noticed afterwards.
Taken in all its characters, this portion of shore from
Calshot to Hurst castle may be regarded as the most inte
resting in the New Forest district, whether we regard the
diversified surface, the blending of land and water, the fine
ness of the climate, or the beauty of much of the scenery.
And, an examination of the country within this coast, would
alone suffice to refute the vulgar opinion as to the desolar
tion which the Conqueror and his successor are alleged to
have spread over this district of fields, orchards, and churches.
Whether we take it as' toward the Southampton Water or
toward the Solent, all the rich lands, though some are nomi
nally within the precincts, are really settled and inhabited,
and appear to have been so even before the afforestation;
while the commencement of the forest and of the sterile
crag, which is really not worthy or indeed susceptible of
culture, is always at the same point ; and it will be found

248 THE NEW FOREST.
that this, though not invariably, is yet generally, the case
upon all sides, — there is a marking out by nature, in a cha
racter of soil which could not have been cultivated in early
times when men had no fortunes to expend in the improve
ment of waste lands ; and, where there are fertile spots
within the forest, they appear to have been too remote in the
early times for being inhabited, and many of them are now
held by private individuals upon various tenures, or in vir
tue of their offices in the forest. Of these we shall take
some notice when we come to treat of the forest as such,
and independently of natural circumstances.
SURFACE, SOIL, AND. RIVERS.
If we leave out of consideration, the diversified margins,
and the contrasts of sterile heath, natural wood, glade, and
cultivated field, which it presents, and regard the New Fo
rest district simply as a portion of the earth's surface, and
in its natural features and capabilities as such ; it is one of
the most dreary and monotonous which one can meet with,
excepting perhaps the sands and barrens of Africa, and the
steppes of Siberia. Just imagine the vegetation gone, and
there will be nothing but the wind of desolation howling
over a dingy expanse of sand, clay, and gravel, with scarcely
an acre in which a useful plant could take root. In so far
as the surface consists of crag, which it may be said to do,
from Hythe to near Lyndhurst, and thence southward to
the east of Lymington, with the exception of a border of
about a mile and a half along the Southampton Water, and
a very irregular one, averaging about three miles, along the
Solent, — in so far as the surface consists of this, it is the
most dull and uninteresting of all surfaces ; for, in hardly
any place where it occurs, does it attain an elevation de
serving to be called a hill, or even a bank with so abrupt a
slope as to produce a contrast.
In some other places, the surface is more diversified, and
the soil a little better, but there is no part which can be re
garded as belonging to even the better description of the

THE NEW FOREST. 249
tertiary formation. Over almost the whole of it, the soil is
retentive, and often strongly impregnated with iron, so that
the heights are naturally naked, and the hollows or bottoms
marshy. Whenever mould of a more kindly description occurs, its for
mation is to be attributed to the woods and the atmosphere,
rather than to the soil. A surface so flat, so retentive, and
consequently so much cooled by evaporation, and exposed
to the current of the humid air from the Atlantic, naturally
brings upon itself a considerable quantity of rain, with a
corresponding violence of the winds; and the consequence is,
that the naked heights are scourged, and the debris is carried
into the hollows, where it increases the retention of moisture
and lays the foundation for those miry formations which
occur in the bottoms, and which are as unfavourable to the
growth of useful trees, as they are to that of the pasture
grasses, or to the health or safety of herds or flocks. The
woods, where these exist, form a soil of their own, by the
annual shedding of their leaves : and, they not only preserve
this, but retain all the soil from the more exposed places,
which is blown into them ; and they are thus the only
natural means, by which almost any part of the district has
been, or can be, covered with a soil at all productive. Even
they are, in many places, unable to contend with the deferti-
lizing nature of the subsoil ; for if there is but little shelter,
as there always must be at the margin of a wood, and if at
the same time the form and texture of the surface are such
as to make the water stagnant, the iron-impregnated water
actually eats away the mould which the trees produce, in
the same manner as if a caustic were applied to the ground ;
and then the trees are the most starveling things that can
well be imagined, — of such there are very many speci
mens upon the margins of the moors in this district. In a
district of such peculiar character, it is not very easy to trace
summit-levels, or to convey or even obtain anything like a
clear notion of the inclinations of the various portions. But,
with the exception of the valley of the Avon, no part of
VOL. II. KK

250 THE NEW FOREST.
which is within the afforested portion, the greater part may
be said to have its principal slope to the south-east, toward
the Solent ; for the slopes toward the Southampton Water,
and the country to the west of Redbridge, are very narrow ;
and the north-west which abuts on Wilts lies high.
In order to form some general idea, we shall not be very
far wrong, if we begin at Eaglehurst, on the Solent, about a
mile and a half west of Calshot castle, and trace along the
boundary of the forest, at about the same distance from the
Southampton Water, passing Fawley at the end of about two
miles, and Dibden, at the end of nearly seven. Then pass
ing through Langley wood, at about two miles south of Red-
bridge, to Lyndhurst, at about three miles from the former,
and so by Costic's pond, Minsted lodge, Rufus's stone, and
Long-beech, to a point about six miles east-and-by-south
of Fordingbridge, we shall have the line of the summit-
level, along the whole north-east of the forest, nearly on the
margin of the afforested lands, till the Lyndhurst road is
arrived at, and then through the forest itself to the point to
which we have alluded, and which is about a mile and a half
to the right of the road in passing to Ringwood, and not
above two miles and a half from the boundary of the forest
and county, to the eastward of the Bramshaw telagraph.
Thence, the summit-level extends north-westward to beyond
the boundary of the district, and forms the summit-level be
tween the valley of the Test and that of the Avon. From
the same point the level extends southward over the dreary
heights of Ocknell and Bratley plains, separating the sources
of the New Forest rivers and streams from the eastern
branches of the Avon, until after a length of about fourteen
miles, it meets the sea at High cliff, about two miles to the
eastward of the entrance to Christchurch harbour.
This summit-level, which in itself is dull and tame, and at
many places sterile, surrounds the forest on the north-east
and west, in the form an an irregular loop, having its
greatest general elevation on the north-west part towards
the border of Wilts ; and the finest parts of the forest itself

THE NEW FOREST. 251
are those toward this quarter. From different parts of the
inner curve of this summitrlevel the small rivers of the dis
trict have their sources ; and in dry weather the nut-brown
waters creep slowly along between the spurs or hursts
which ramify from this summit to near the sea, the general
course of all the principal ones being in the direction of south
east, — as if the inbreak of the sea-flood which brought the
tertiary formation over the chalk in this part of England
had come from that quarter. The fall of all those rivers
and streams is very trifling, so that they overflow part of
the moors in the rainy season ; and the pools thus formed
are in part left to be taken up in evaporation, which greatly
increases the cold at those times, while out of the reach of
the sea-breeze and the shade of the woods, the heat in the
summer drought is very oppressive.
The first valley, or bottom, or depression, or whatever
else it may be termed, among these ramifications of the
heights, is that which contains the stream of Dark water.
This stream consists of the waters of several small brooks,
which have their sources in the southern part of Beaulieu
heath ; but the remotest of them are not above six miles
from the confluence of the water with the Solent, a little to
the eastward of the Beaulieu river, as already noticed. There
are some marshy pools upon the upper rivulets in the heath ;
but they are of small dimensions, and have not much inte
rest, only in so far as they are the resort of wading or swim
ming birds. The character of the creek formed by the lower
part of this river has been already noticed.
The Beaulieu river, from the length of its course and the
beauty of the scenery along its winding estuary, is far more
interesting. The total length of its course, exclusive of the
minor windings, is about twelve miles ; and it drains the
surface-water of the greatest extent of the crag surface, and
the margins of the tertiary formation by which that is sur
rounded. As is the case with Dark water, the supplies
which, in ordinary states of the weather, are sent to the
Beaulieu river, are from small marshes, pools, and hollows,
kk2

252 THE NEW FOREST.
and .they tainted by the colouring matters peculiar to the
formation ; nor is there, in the crag formation, or indeed in
almost any part of the forest district, a spring of clear water,
which pours out a quantity meriting the appellation of even
a rill. The upper part of the shallow basin which this river
drains, is something in the form of a circle, about four miles
from the union of the branches above Beaulieu to the
northern summit, and about the same, from Dibden on the
east to near Lyndhurst on the west. In this upper part, the
Beaulieu river has no beauty ; and what it has in the estua-
ral portion, is chiefly owing to the sea and the woods on the
shores. Indeed, it may be said of all the inland parts that,
in so far as the New Forest is beautiful, it is so because it is
a forest ; and were it once disafforested, it would be a most
uninteresting and unprofitable district. We shall afterwards
see to what extent the forest does, or might, redeem it from
this character.
The Lymington river, which is sometimes called the Bol
dre, from the parish of that name on its banks, is, however,
the largest running water which has its rise in the New
Forest district. Its most remote source is very near that
point to the westward of the place where Rufus was shot,
which we have mentioned as being that at which the north
eastern and the western lines of general summit-level meet
and pass northward to the downs of South Wilts ; and the
various brooks drain all the surface-water from the south-
Ward slope of the richly wooded, part of the forest to the
north and west of Lyndhurst. This river crosses the line of
road from Lyndhurst to Lymington, about half-a-mile to the
north of the village of Brockenhurst ; and quits the affo
rested lands about three or. four miles above Lymington.
Only a small portion of the surface which the river drains
is on the crag formation ; and it is accordingly not quite so
bare and sterile as that on the upper part of the Beaulieu
river, and there are some very pleasant spots within it ; but
still many are barren heath or useless marsh or mire — or
alternately the one or the other, according as it is the dry

THE NEW FOREST. 253
or the rainy time of the year. The water, too, is of the
same dingy and tainted character; quite unfavourable to
the breeding of fish ; and, we believe, by no means suited
for the wholesome irrigation of water-meadows, even if the
banks were well adapted for these in the position of their
surface. Some process of this kind was tried immediately
above Lymington, and the tide was banked out in order to
give scope to the water of the river without any blending of
saline mixture, — the which mixture is the only ingredient
wanted to give the deposit of such a stream even a chance of
kindly fertility. It is not, of course, the mere water of any
river, be that of what purity it may, which nourishes the
grass upon water-meadows; for, if the same water is sent
from meadow to meadow, without being turned into the
main channels at intervals, those which are lowest derive but
little advantage from the process ; and if the water which is
spread over the meadow is impregnated with salts of iron, the
sporae of the mosses, and the earth of decomposed peat and
heath, it must necessarily act as a bane and not as a bounty ;
and if such a bath were given for a very short time to a mea
dow previously covered with valuable grasses, that meadow
would soon partake of the souring and unwholesome cha
racter of an incipient marsh. The chalk on the upper parts
of the south-flowing rivers of Hampshire, is the earth which
is most influential in preventing the formation of bog and
the growth of marsh plants ; and though pure silicious sand
would partially have the same influence, mere clay has not ;
and therefore there is little good to be expected from streams
which flow from such grounds as those that give rise to the
rivers of the New Forest. Drainage, not irrigation, is what
is wanted for the lands by such streams, if they are to be
substantially improved.
In the valleys of the Itchen, the Test, and the Avon, we
find confirmations of what has been now stated; for, with
an equal degree of stagnation, there is always a greater ten
dency to the formation of marsh and the growth of marsh
plants the farther that the place is removed from the chalk.

254 THE NEW FOREST.
On the banks of the New Forest rivers, above the tideway,
there is nothing of a very wholesome nature that the stream
can bring down — except, perhaps, during heavy floods ; and
what may be brought then, is only a certain robbing of
one part of the surface for the very questionable benefit of
another. Warping in the tidal estuaries might have a much
more beneficial effect, although they might not, in all proba
bility be anything comparable to the results of the same
system in the midland counties.
The only other river wholly within the New Forest dis
trict, which it will be necessary to notice, is the Avon — not
the river which comes from Wilts, and is joined by the Stour
at Christchurch ; but a small stream that runs into the So
lent, immediately to the eastward of the natural causeway,
upon the extremity of which Hurst castle is situated. This
stream rises in the south-west part of the Forest, near Holms-
ley lodge, and flows south-eastward, with a pretty straight
course for only about eight or nine miles, to the sea, the lower
part passing through the Lymington salterns, which were of
no small importance before the rock-salt in Cheshire and
Worcestershire was manufactured to the same extent that it
is now. This little river may be Considered as a single
stream, with scarcely one lateral branch, and of small value
except in so far as it determines the slope of that portion of
the district, across Which it flows. Between it and the
most southerly of the western or right-hand branches of
the Lymington river, there is a considerable extent of furzy
moor ; and no part of the land in the neighbourhood is very
fertile, nor are almost any spots of the surface to be ad
mired for their beauty. The chief inducement which any
one can have to reside in this part of the New Forest dis
trict which extends southward from the afforested lands to
the mud cliffs of Christchurch bay, upon which the sea is
making such constant though gradual depredations, is the
benefit of the sea-air, and of that they have abundance — the
exposure to the southwest being direct, and the violence of

THE NEW FOREST. 255
the atmosphere such, that a shelter of any description of
timber cannot be obtained without great difficulty.
Such are the natural characters of the soil, the surface,
and the rivers of the New Forest district ; and the climate
is in exact correspondence : for, unless there is shelter by
woods or heights, the sea-wind sweeps over and scourges
the surface ; and, unless where the distance inland is con
siderable, the seaward sides of the woods are beaten into a
very stunted and miserable appearance. The bleak heights
which occupy the south-west of the district, and the heights
which lie north-west and south-east, between the course of
the lesser Avon and the most southerly left-hand branch of
the Lymington river, take off the severity of the sea-breezes
— or rather the sea-storms, before the latter part of the
forest is reached ; and the termination of the same, with the
jetting extremities between the sources of the south-east
rivers, afford shelter to the low grounds near the Solent.
But the general character which prevails over the whole
district, with the exception of the north-eastern and south
eastern margins, is one of sterility ; and much of the beauty
which has been attributed to some of the scenes, is owing
to the contrast of the miserable tracts with which they are
in such close juxta-position. We can, of course, have no
prejudice against any one part of the district, because, what
ever may be its characters, they depend on natural circum
stances, in which no human being has any part ; and no
man in his senses would find fault with nature for having
made any district of country in any one state in which we
find it. On the contrary, there is always a compensation in
every part of creation, whether it be in the sea or the land,
or in that which either of them produces ; and this must
hold in the case of the New Forest, as well as in that of
any other district.
And here we may perhaps be allowed to make one pas
sing reflection upon the vituperations which have been
heaped upon William the Norman, for the supposed deso
lating of this tract of country, and desecrating of churches

256 THE NEW FOREST.
— which never could have existed, and cemetries — which
never could have contained any bones, save those of warriors
on the wild heath, — whose place of rest no churchman goes
to consecrate, even though they fell while contending for the
emoluments or the existence of the church. If William had
not afforested the central and northern parts of the district,
and thus ensured the preservation of the wood upon them,
they would, long ere now, have been converted into one dis
mal expanse of unbroken heath, across which the storms
would have come in all their fury, and extended their deso
lation over the greater part of the county of Hants. We do
not mean to say that William had any such intention, or
even that he had the slightest knowledge of any matter of
the kind ; for those who have most to do with the govern
ment of states, are usually the most ignorant of the laws
and workings of nature, and natural science had no exist
ence or name at the time to which we allude. But there is
a higher power, the working of which is generally inscru
table to us, which turns even the folly and the vice of the
men of one generation to the advantage of those who come
after, when a more clear and extended light dawns upon the
earth. Some other reflections of a physico-moral nature
will readily suggest themselves to any reader of ordinary
intelligence, or any one who visits this district with powers
of observation beyond the most "brute and vulgar gaze;"
but into these neither our space nor our principal object
will allow us to enter. Our proper business tis, with the
present, and with such memorials of the past as our very
limited room will allow us to glean. In the discharge of
this part of our duty, we shall notice the topographical,
statistical, and some of the historical details — first of the
districts which form the purlieus of the Forest, and then
the Forest itself. VALLEY OF THE AVON.
According to the latest arrangement of the divisions and
subdivisions of Hants, the artificial boundaries of this part

THE NEW FOREST. 257
of the district very nearly correspond with the natural ones,
than in any other part of the county. From the mouth of
the brook of Chuton, about three miles to the eastward of
the town of Christchurch, and only a little to the east of
High cliff, which we have mentioned on the commencement
of the summit-level, or natural boundary on the sea-line, the
artificial boundary proceeds northward, passing very nearly
along the summit-level to near the Bramshaw telegraph, on
the borders of Wilts. The average length of the whole of
this valley may be about 18 miles, and the average breadth
about 8 miles.
It contains the following divisions : 1. Breamore liberty,
a patch on the middle of the north end, consisting of only
the single parish of Breamore, which, though near the high
downs, is comparatively rich and populous, — the yearly
valuation being 3126/., and the number of inhabitants 600.
2. Fordingbridge upper half-hundred, which lies on
the west, south, and east of the former, but has a projecting
tongue of Wilts between it and the west of Breamore liberty.
On the right bank of the Avon, it extends to about a mile
and a quarter below Fordingbridge ; and, on the left bank,
the boundary stretches from that town to near the Bramshaw
telegraph. Besides the town of Fordingbridge, which will
be noticed afterwards, this division contains the parishes of
Rookbourne in the western part, and of Hale in the eastern.
Rookbourne, is a large parish, with a population of 517, and a
yearly valuation of 2539/. Hale is smaller ; the annual
valuation being 796/., and the population 203. Hale lies
close on the left branch of the Avon, and the woods about
Hale house are beautiful ; but the upper part of the parish
is elevated downs. There are also very extensive downs in
the north and west of the parish of Rookbourne.
3. Fordingbridge lower half-hundred lies wholly on
the left bank of the Avon, along which it extends between
four and five miles, and its eastern boundary is about the
same length. A considerable portion of the east of this
division is included in the afforested grounds, it being here,
VOL II. LL

258 THE NEW FOREST.
in fact, that one of the best parts of the forest is situated.
The cultivated surface between the Forest and the river is
but narrow ; and though there are some villages and cottages
spotted over the greater part of its length, there are only
two parishes, the churches of which are both situated near
the south-west angle. These parishes are, Ibsley and El-
lingham. Ibsley has a population of 316, and the yearly
valuation is 1551/. Ellingham is valued at 3342/. yearly,
and has a population of 420.
4. Ringwood hundred. This occupies the whole of the
middle length of the valley, including a considerable por
tion of the afforested lands in the eastern part, and extend
ing to the bleak moors on the border of Dorset on the west.
It occupies both sides of the Avon for a distance of about
five miles from north to south ; and it stretches north, on the
west or the right-hand side of the river, for about three miles
more. Besides the town of Ringwood, it contains only one
parish, that of Harbridge, on the right bank of the Avon,
and not very far from the northern boundary of the hundred.
Harbridge is an extensive parish, valued at 1931/., yearly,
and containing 325 inhabitants ; but much of the surface is
of a barren description. This is also the character of much
of the eastern part of the hundred, which consists of an as
semblage of knolls, destitute of timber, and far from rich in
any kind of vegetation These knolls certainly form a con
trast with the dull and monotonous heights of some parts of
the Forest, but one can hardly call them an improvement.
The greater part of the inhabitants of the hundred are in
the extensive parish of Ringwood, which will be noticed
afterwards, when we come to speak of the town.
Christchurch lower half-hundred is a small patch ex
tending across the valley, but of very irregular breadth.
The only parish which it contains is Sopley, which has _a_
population of 1012, and is valued at 1027/. yearly, which is
a very small valuation in proportion to the number of in
habitants. The western part of this half-hundred extends
southward to the left bank of the Stour, which forms its
boundary for about three miles.

THE NEW FOREST. 259
6. Westover liberty. This occupies a small portion of
the extreme south-west of the county ; and about half the
surface toward the west is occupied by the most dreary
downs and heaths, with hummocks of sand along the shore
in some places. At the mouth of the Bourne, a small
stream which crosses the western part of it to the sea, there
are decoys for the numerous wild fowl which frequent this
dreary shore in the winter months. About a mile and a half
to the east of the Bourne, is the villa of Bascombe, which
is most redolent of sea-air, but in other respects, it is a
dwelling in the wilderness. The north-eastern part of the
liberty, toward the Stour, is better ; and the church of Hol-
denhurst, the only one in the liberty, is situated in that
¦quarter. Holdenhurst is valued at 3714/. annually, and it
has a population of 733.
7. Christchurch parliamentary liberty occupies the re
mainder of the valley, lying on both sides of the river, and
the tidal lake which forms Christchurch harbour. Its di
mensions are 5| miles from east to west, and 4 from north
to south ; but the form of it is irregular. Hinton is the only
parish besides that of the borough of Christchurch. This,
though it has a church, is only a tything of the parish of
Christchurch, and its population is included in the return
of that.
These seven, hundreds, half-hundreds, and liberties, make
up the whole of the western division of the New Forest,
the petty sessions being held, and the poll taken at Ring-
wood, as the most central, and on that account the most
convenient, for the whole of the long and narrow district..
This division occupies nearly half the surface of the en
tire district of the New Forest ; and certainly as much, if
not more, than was actually afforested at any one time. The
east and west of it are in many places barren ; but the cen
tre of it has the advantage of a river of considerable magni
tude flowing along its whole length. In respect of the
natural elements of fertility, it is therefore superior to the
average of the Forest ; and yet there are only ten parish
ll 2

260 the new forest.
churches in it, the parishes of which include some of the
Forest lands. Therefore, we have only to look at this lower
valley of the Avon upon the map, to note its physical advan
tages, and to count the number of its churches, in order to
see how perfectly inconsistent with the physical capabilities
of the district, the demolitions laid to the charge of the Nor
man Conqueror are. Total ignorance of the nature of the
place, is the only excuse that- can be set up for them ; and
the security of this ignorance — which is the chief means by
which nonsense can be confidently propagated, has pre
vented the absurd violation of nature by those fetches to
which they so frequently had recourse — the ascription of
the feeding of two-and-fifty congregations to a miracle. If
they had thought of this, there is no doubt that manna
would have rained from heaven, crucifixes have been or
dained to produce beeves, and muttons, and quartern loaves,
and an image of the Virgin to weep barrels of ale and butts
of metheglin, rather than that the first monarch who dared
to thrust in the sickle and reap the harvest which, in the
Anglo-Saxon time, had fatted the pious herd, should have
gone without the measure of his iniquity being filled to the
brim, in order that the consigning of him to endless perdi
tion might be a work pleasing in the sight of heaven. We
again repeat, that we have no partiality for William, or for
any of the Norman race ; but we do wish that the popular
belief should be disabused of the nonsense of these menda
cious monks ; for, in consequence of the leaven of their mis
representations, which is mingled with the whole early his
tory of the country, there is probably not one character or
one transaction connected with it, that is seen by us in its
proper light. There is no fixed law of human action ; and,
on this account, a human action may be misunderstood or
misrepresented without voluntary mendacity ; but when the
misrepresentation involves a physical impossibility, no such
plea can be admitted; for the man who asserts this, will
assert anything that will answer his purpose. The doting
persons who prowl about ruined abbeys, in adoration of

THE NEW FOREST.

261

fragments of old stones, are seldom possessed of much logi
cal acumen ; and therefore they contribute their mite to the
misleading of the public.
The conduct of the religious themselves, is the best
means which we have of judging in such matters. Now,
before the Conquest, these religious had carried their ap
proaches to the borders of the New Forest, at Redbridge on
the north, and at Christchurch on the south ; and they had
penetrated into the centre as far up the Lymington or Boldre
water as Brokenhurst, which is equidistant from Eling and
Hurst castle ; but it does not appear that they had founded
any establishment within the bounds of what, was made Fo
rest, nor had they allocated themselves at Beaulieu, until the
frightening of John in a dream made him establish the ab
bey there, to appease the anger of Heaven and the abbots ;
and from this we may fairly conclude, that the central part
of the Forest, that is, the part which lies to the east, west,
and north of Brockenhurst was not very tempting in those
days, otherwise they would have contrived to get a slice of
the best of it. The fact of there being no religious house at
Beaulieu until after the Conquest, is of some use in throwing
light upon the progressive natural history of that part of the
district ; for it shows that the beauty and fertility of the es-
tuaral banks of the Beaulieu are owing to the sea, which
has brought deposits to the shores, and not to the river,
which has its course over the hungry crags, and could never
be the means of fertilising any district. The soil over which
the Lymington river flows is better, and so is that on the
Avon. Thus, all the points which bear upon it tend to es
tablish one character for the Forest part of the district, both
before the afforestation and since.
THE RIVER AVON.
Although the Avon is not a Hampshire river, yet, as it is
the largest that flows through any part of the county, and
has a course within it not much shorter than that of the
Itchen, and is a river of considerable magnitude when it

262 THE NEW FOREST.
enters, it is too important a natural feature for being over
looked. The Avon is the largest river that has its source
in the chalk districts of the south of England ; and, like the
other rivers of these districts, it receives the chief supply of
its water from these, — the branches from the tertiary forma
tion, whether in the New Forest district, or between that
and Salisbury, being small in comparison. Its waters thus
partake of the purity usual in such rivers, although not quite
so much down near the tide-way, in consequence of the
branches from the tertiary formation. In consequence of
this, marsh plants are more apt to form upon its banks, than
upon those of the rivers which receive no branches but
from the chalk, and the gravel and soil which cap the heights
of that formation.
Though the general direction of the Avon is nearly a
straight line, all the way from Salisbury to the harbour of
Christchurch, its channel is very irregular, forming nume
rous branches, which, in some places, stream the meadows
with an intricacy that can hardly be described. The
course is also sluggish, and thus the banks are the resort of
great numbers of aquatic and littoral birds, not only in the
winter, but in the breeding time, — there being very few
summer or winter visitant or resident birds, that live and
breed on the margin of such waters in England, which are
not to be met with in some part of the valley of the Avon ;
it is thus an excellent locality for those who may wish to
study this highly interesting department of British Orni
thology in the only school where it can be studied to
advantage. As the numerous branches of the Avon may be said to
receive all the waters given out by an area of about 900
square miles ; as many parts of this are high down or plain,
upon which a good deal of rain falls ; and as much of the
surface is well cultivated for throwing the rain speedily into
the water-courses ; this river is very subject to floods,
which, though they are not so violent as to tear up much of
the banks, are yet sufficiently so for rendering the stream

THE NEW FOREST. 263
very unfit for navigation. There is abundance of water for
making this river the means of an inland navigation, ramified
along most of the valleys of south Wilts : but both the main
channel of the river, and also the harbour of Christchurch
are unfavourable for this purpose.
The great earl of Clarendon, to whom Christchurch
belonged in thereign of Charles II, saw the advantage that
would result from a regular navigation between the bay of
Christchurch and the city of Salisbury ; he accordingly had
both river and harbour surveyed, by Yarrington and others,
and they reported more favourably than seemly, upon both.
The river was made navigable in consequence ; but their
works were soon destroyed by a flood, and no subsequent
attempt has been made to restore the navigation, There is
no doubt that a canal could be made, though the soil in
some places is not the best for canal cutting and embanking;
but it is very questionable whether any skill and labour
of man could make the harbour of Christchurch anything
better than a sloop harbour in fine weather ; and this would
be small inducement for the constructing of a canal.
Salisbury appears to be particularly unfortunate in the
matter of canals ; for the one from Southampton, which was
attempted in the early part of the present century, was a
complete failure. It is unfortunate that the harbour cannot
be made to answer, for a canal there would be the means of
great local improvements, to say nothing of any branch of
trade which might result from it. — The Avon is a very good
fishing river, — eels especially are very plentiful, and of ex
cellent flavour. TOWNS UPON THE AVON.
The towns, which we observed in speaking of the parishes
and other particulars are, Fordingbridge, Redbridge, and
Christchurch, which we shall notice in their order from
north to south. As each of these towns gives name to a
hundred, we may conclude that they were places of some
importance in the early times. The superiority of harbours

264 THE NEW FOREST.
was of much less consequence in those times than it is now
as the boats put to sea only in the fine weather, and made
their landing at almost any part of the shore, just as one
would do with pleasure boats on a fine calm day. The
selection of shores necessary for modern navigation has had
far more influence upon the relative prosperity of various
parts of the country than one would be apt to suppose.
Fordingbridge is on the right bank of the river, imme
diately below where it takes a remarkable flexure to the
right, of about a mile in length, and only about a mile
further up, there is a similar flexure to the left; the flat
meadow here being about a mile in breadth, which is the
average breadth of meadow all the way up to the boundary
of the county, which is about seven miles above Fording
bridge. In these meadows the river winds very much ; and
it is probable that, anciently, the greater part of these broad
meadows was an impassable marsh. Below the town, the
meadows shift to the westward, so that the line measured
hence, a little above the town on the east, to a little below it
on the west, extends to nearly two miles. This hitch or
shift, brings the firm banks of the river near to each other ;
and this is the place of the modern " bridge," and of the
ancient " ford;" hence the names of which that of the
town has obviously been compounded. There is no great
thoroughfare from east to west across by this bridge in
modern times ; and the road from Salisbury to Ringwood
and Christchurch, which line shifts from the right to the
left bank of the river, is' the principal one in any direc
tion ; but there is no doubt that, in former times, this was a
passage of some importance ; and the town was then larger
than it is now. In summer it is a pleasant place, but the
humid meadows render it rather cold in the winter. The
principal street is a crooked one, which lies east and west,
and there is a shorter one to the north. Besides the Avon,
there are two brooks, from the downs to the north-west,
which join each other and the river in Fordingbridge. The
town has a weekly market on Saturday, and an annual fair

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THE NEW FOREST. 265
on the 9th of September. The yearly valuation is 9452/.,
and the 'population in 1831 was 2671, being only nine
more than by the former census. This population includes
that of the parish and the tithing of Godshill. This is an
elevation about a mile and a half north-east of the town ;
and though it is now covered with trees, it was once here
defended on one side by a double rampart and ditch, the
natural escarpment on the other sides being sufficient for the
ancient purposes of defence. It has been conjectured that
this might have been one of the entrenched camps of
Cerdic, when he was working his way to Winchester, during
twice the time of the siege of Ilicum ; but this of course is
merely conjecture, though Cerdford, now Chardford, a little
to the north, renders the conjecture not improbable. Ford
ingbridge is mentioned as having a church, two mills, and
thirty acres of meadow, at the time of the Doomsday
Survey ; and this small number of acres, compared with the
present extent of meadows, gives at least some probability
to what we have stated respecting the ancient marsh.
Other than the parish church, it does not appear that there
ever was any sacerdotal establishment at Fordingbridge.
Ringwood is about six miles below Fordingbridge, and
on the left or opposite bank of the river, which is still more
divided into channels among the meadows here, so that the
road westward leads to a succession of small bridges. The
same road along the valley passes through both towns ; and
in addition to this, there is, through Ringwood, the main
thoroughfare across the New Forest to Poole ; and it is a line
of considerable traffic. It was a place of some note in the
time of the Romans, and is termed Regnum in the Itinerary
of Antoninus. Rincevede, or Rincewede, was the name at
the time of the Conquest; and it is described as being a
royal demesne in the time of King Edward. The name
implies that it was the king's wood, and the number of
hogs for which it is stated as affording pannage, is a con
firmation of the fact to which we have so often alluded, and
upon which every thing connected with the New Forest
VOL. II MM

266 THE NEW FOREST.
bears so forcibly, as to show pretty clearly that the said
forest has not undergone any change, save that of the
felling of timber, and the close influence of time, to which
all countries and districts are subject, since a period anterior
to even the arrival of the Romans. It has been said that
this was called Regnum by Antoninus, from its being a
station belonging to the Regni ; but " Regni " is certainly
not very like a British word, although its etymology in the
other way, is apparent enough. " Ring," is still the pro
nunciation of the word " reign " in those parts of the
country where the Anglo-Saxon has been mixed more with
the original Norse than with the Norman Frankish ; and
although we have no very implicit fttith in etymologies, we
are very much inclined to hold to that which is nearest to
the original. — Mais, chacun a son gout.
From the thoroughfare, the courts baron and leet^ the
petty sessions, and the pollings, which are held at Ring-
wood, the town has a sort of metropolitan air about it, and it
is more lively and bustling than Fordingbridge. It is also
more populous, and proportionally higher in annual value, —
the population being 4832, and the yearly valuation, 15,772/.
The increase of the population in the thirty years preceding
1831, was more than 1000. Ringwood has a weekly
market on Wednesdays, and fairs on the 10th of July and
the 11th of December. There are no historical events of
much importance connected with the history of this town,
which, as a story to be told, is more old than interesting.
Besides the parish church, the vicarage of which is in the
gift of King's college, Cambridge, there are chapels for more
than one class of dissenters at Ringwood, and there is an
endowed free-school in the town,
Christchurch is, on several accounts, the most inte
resting of the three towns in the Hampshire portion of the
valley of the Avon. It is a parliamentary borough, and a
seaport ; and there is some history connected with its castle,
and a great deal with the church, and former priory, to which
that church was the chapel. The population is greater than

ENVIRONS OF CHRISTCHURCH.

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THE NEW FOREST. 267
that of either Fordingbridge or Ringwood, the borough and
parish, that is, the whole of the parliamentary liberty, being
returned at 5344 ; but the annual value, which however is
that of the town only, is 2876/., and there has been no
return of that of the parliamentary liberty. Even there it
cannot be very great, as the land is by no means of the
richest quality ; but of course the sum given is only a very
small portion of the actual amount.
Christchurch is a very ancient borough, being noticed as
such in Doomsday Book. It does not appear that the
Romans had any post or station here, and there is some
reason to suppose that, in those times, the valley of the Avon
was so covered with mud and marsh, as not to be passable.
The principal intercourse with it then appears to have been
across the moors to the west ; and that there have been con
tests there, in the early times, is indicated by the barrows
Which are spotted about on these wilds. Hengistbury head
has at one time been an encampment, but when and by
whom cannot now be made out. The same surveyor who
planned the short-lived navigation of the Avon for Lord
Clarendon, suggested the transfer of the king's shipping
from Portsmouth to Christchurch ; and the strong encamp
ment that might be formed at Hengistbury head, was one of
the inducements.
Twynen, Twinham, and Thuinam, the different ortho
graphies of the Saxon name, seem to imply that the original
town, or collection of dwellings, whatever they might be,
stood upon " two islands ; " and such may have been the
case ; for there are many small islands about, and some parts
of the town are insular. Defence was the grand object in
former times ; and next to the steep escarpment of a hill,
the best defence was water. It is true that the present
islands, whether in the Avon or the Stour, or after they
have joined, are small, but when we consider the action of
the sea and of two flooding rivers for a thousand years, we
cannot be very confident, as to what may at one time, have
been the condition of the place. We must not confound the
MM 2

268 ' THE NEW FOREST.
ancient towns or boroughs with our notions of modern ones.
The number of messuages as stated in Doomsday, is 31 in
Thuinam. The present town, of which the principal part is on the
east side of the tongue of land formed by the junction of the
Avon and Stour, has been of course in a great part collected
by the castle and the priory. Before the Conquest, and till
the reign of Henry I, both town and castle — if castle there
then was — were the property of the king. Henry granted
them to Redvers, a powerful baron, and a branch of the royal
house; and it is probable that he built and fortified the
castle. This castle was never the principal residence of any
very powerful baron ; for Redvers held Exeter and Caris-
brook along with this. Baldwin, the second earl, joined the
party of Maude, and was defeated and obliged to go abroad ;
but when the quarrel was made up, he returned to his pos
sessions, and lived to see the humiliation of the tyrant at
Runnymede. Edward I became possessor of it, and by him
it was made a parliamentary borough ; but did not send
members for a long time, on account of the expense. It
must be borne in mind that, down to a comparatively late
period, the parliament of England partook as much of the
nature of a cloak as that of a council. The lords were
courtiers, and opposed the king- only when they were not
satisfied with their share of the praise and the plunder : and
the commons were mere assenters until the time of Elizabeth,
when commercial wealth began to rival the wealth of the
nobility. Some of the Saxon kings saw the advantages that
would accrue from this balance, and attempted to encourage
trade. Athelstan, for instance, decreed, that three long
voyages should elevate him who made them to the rank of
Thane. This was of course all that a king could do ; but a
title, or anything that a monarch can confer, is of no value
in commerce. Wealth, and the means of actually increasing
it, by skill not by craft, by mutual benefit not by fraud and
over-reaching, by liberality and not by the narrow parsi
mony of a mere huckster, are the sinews of war in the

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THE NEW FOREST. 269
commercial system ; and nation required to deal with
nation for some time upon the grand scale, before a spirit
adequate to this could be generated ; nor was it till there
was such a spirit established, that the Commons found their
weight in the parliament of England ; and a seat in the
Commons' House became an object of ambition. Attendance
in the House occupied the time of the representative bur
gesses, and there was no gain or glory which they could
reap, and, therefore, they had to be paid by their consti
tuents,- who had no representative when they were not able
to pay him. It must be admitted that the balance swung
mightily to the other side, when the boroughs became pro
perty, which the owner used for his own gain or glory ; but
the question is, in itself, a fluctuating one, and no man or
system can long hold an even balance in it. From the
time of Elizabeth to the " Alteration of Elections' Act," two
members went to parliament for Christchurch, and since
then there goes one.
The town is very pleasant in summer, and the high cliffs in
the neighbourhood afford very delightful views. The weekly
market is held on Monday ; and there are annual fairs on
the 13th of June and the 17th of October. The road from
Lymington to Poole, that along the Avon, and one from the
centre of the forest, all meet at Christchurch, which is " the
town " to its own district ; but that district is neither very
extensive nor very rich.
Christchurch Priory was an establishment of some im
portance. At what period of the Saxon sway it was founded
there are uo means of ascertaining; but in the reign of
Edward the Confessor, it was in possession of considerable
lands and tithes here, and of some lands in the Isle of
Wight. It was then dedicated to the Holy Trinity; and
the fraternity consisted of a dean and twenty-four canons,
the appointment of whom was immediately in the king. At
that time, the church and other buildings were, probably,
of very humble character, as appears to have been the case
with most of the Saxon edifices. Here we may remark

270 THE NEW FOREST.
that, while the Saxon monarchs, appear to have striven who
should bestow the largest grants of land upon the clergy,
the early Normans were equally attentive to the giving of
some splendour to the sacred architecture of the country.
They probably, in some instances, made the church fine at
the expense of the priest, and occasionally at that of the
people ; but, although they supplanted the Saxon thanes,
they did more, both for the country and the people, than
the said thanes showed any disposition to do. There is no
denying that the Saxons were gross and serlsual in their
tastes, and wanted the fire and elevation of the Norman
character. Splendid buildings tend much to the elevation
of the human character ; and there seems little reason to
doubt that the churches built by the Normans did far more
for the cause of religion among the people, than the grants
made to the clergy by the Saxons. They also gave scope
for talent upon one subject at least ; and if you give talent
one subject, it will find others. The setting of talent above
mere brute force is among the first steps of vital civilisation ;
and though talent is not always associated with virtue, it is,
upon the whole, less mean in its vices than the opposite.
One may be horrified at the conduct of a man of talent, but
never disgusted.
Ralph Flambard, by whom the priory of Christchurch
was begun to be built in an elegant style, was an instance
of this. He was of humble origin, but of great talents, and
fascinating manners, and certainly not before his age in
sanctity, or the assumption of it. He had rendered himself
agreeable and useful to Rufus, with whom he was an es
pecial favourite. He was dean here, and then dean of St.
Paul's, and collector of the king's revenue ; and afterwards
bishop of Durham. The Chroniclers of the time are pretty
severe upon the vices both of him and his royal patron ;
but perhaps we ought to discount a good deal, on account of
dislike of the Normans, and envy at the success of Flam
bard. Whatever we may think of his motive, we must ad
mit that he was very clever. He had been long accused of

THE NEW FOREST. 271
one of the more deadly sins, and summoned by the pope or
his legate, to appear and explain, or suffer for the same. He
always pleaded excuses, but at last John de Crema, the
legate, went to Durham, to rebuke the bishop in his own
palace. Flambard prepared a most sumptuous entertain
ment for the legate, and regaled him with the choicest wines
and the most captivating conversation, until the papal func
tionary was greatly elevated. Then he introduced to the
company a niece of his own, a young lady of great beauty,
and one whom he had trained to play her part. Beauty
finished what wine had begun; and the legate actually
made an assignation with the niece of the man he had come
to rebuke. The niece was true to her part ; she went to
the chamber of the holy man at the appointed hour ; gained
admission, and the door was bolted; but, in an instant,
crash went the door, and in marched Flambard, with the
whole posse of his chaplains bearing torches. There was
no actual transgression in the case; but who was the ac
cused now % Flambard affected to look with Christian pity
and forbearance on the frailty of a brother; the legate
sneaked off; and the bishop heard no more about that spe
cies of accusation. The life of Flambard was altogether a
most eventful one ; but he at last died in peace, in his pa
lace at Durham, having bequeathed a large portion of his
property to the church.
Notwithstanding the charges of immorality that -have
been made against Flambard, he appears to have been a
splendid character ; and he had no sooner obtained the
deanery of Tuinam, than he began to re-build the church
and other erections at his own expense, just as Walkelyn
had done at Winchester. He was also preparing to sub
stitute monks for the secular canons ; but, getting into
disgrace with Henry I, he was deprived of all his livings
and property, and made a captive, It is doubtful whether
he lived to complete the buildings which he had planned
or in part executed ; and the parts which remain have cer
tainly been erected at different dates; but there is no

272 THE NEW FOREST.
question that a considerable portion is the original work of
Flambard. After the time of Flambard, the priory appears to have
had considerable acquisitions to its endowments, by grants
from the De Redvers and others ; and early in the twelfth
century, the secular canons were replaced by regulars of the
Augustine order, and they continued, with variations of
number, till the abolition. It may not be irrelevent to
mention, as throwing a little light upon the feelings of the
age, that the regulars were a sort of aristocratic exdusives
in the church. The secular canons mingled with the people,
and were a part of them ; and would have preferred enjoying
a potation with a living ploughman, to saying mass for the
soul of a defunct peer ; and thus they had become unequal
to the discharge of their proper functions, The principle
upon which this function proceeded, was general, although
many persons of the present day, would in their speech find
fault with it. It was simply this : that a man could with
perfect confidence, commit as much of whatever sin liked
him, as he chose, all the time he lived in this world, pro
vided he could procure the necessary number of masses to
be sure for his soul, after he was dead. This was a doctrine
said to be popular ; and it is to this that the wealth which
the church had in the middle ages, was mainly owing. It
gave full licence to a man as long as he could have any en
joyments, and the fragments which he left upon the table of
sin, bought him a crown of peace and glory — made him a
saint to the exact value of his bequest. The secular canons
were apt to neglect these matters ; in short, though a man
who had been wicked all his life, left the whole of his heri
tage to the church at the end of it, he had no security that
it would prove better with him than with the profane and
hardened wicked who gave the church nothing; and to
prevent this, the regular monks, who were debarred from
having anything to do with the living world, were invented.
The success of the regulars in this way was their ruin in
England ; for if the establishments had been as poor as they

THE NEW FOREST. 273
were .rich, they would have escaped the rapacity of Henry.
A short extract from a letter to Henry, by the commis
sioners appointed to take the surrender of this priory, will
show the intention and spirit of the whole. " We found
the Prior a very honest comfortable person, and the house
well furnyshed with juellys and plate, whereof some be
mete for the king's Majesty's use — as a letele chalys of
golde ; a goodly lardge crosse, doble gylt, with the foot
garnyshed with stone and perle ; two goodly basons, doble
gylt, having the king's armys well enamyled ; a goodly
great pyxe, for the sacrament, double gylt. And there be
also other things, of sylver, right honest and of good valew ;
as well for the churche use as for the table, resyrved and
kept to the King's use. In the church, we found a chaple
and monument, curiously made of Cane (Caen) stone, pre
pared by the mother of Reynold Pole, for herre bureau,
which we caused to be defacyd, and all the armys and
badgis clerely to be delete." Such is a short specimen of
reformation by old Harry ; and one knows not which is
more disgusting ; the gross cupidity, the wanton devastation,
or the shameful prostitution of language. According to-
these commissioners, a man was " honest," exactly in the
amount that they could play the thief upon him ; and stolen
goods were " honest " in the ratio of their value ! And yet
the monks were in a great measure to blame ; for if they
had been half as zealous in the promotion of religion and
knowledge, as they were in the accumulation of " juellys
and plate," no tyrant would have dared to plan, and no man
would have been found to execute, so monstrous an injustice.
The regular monks seem to have been particularly hostile to
the diffusion of any kind of instruction among the people ;
and the effect upon the monks themselves appears to have
been a dull indolence, closely allied either to dementation or
fatuity. Tradition says, that the common name by which
the town's people designated the holy brethren, was the
" Abbey lubbers ; " and as it is probable that the feeling
indicated by this epithet, was pretty general all over the
VOL . II. NN

274 THE NEW FOREST.
country, Henry must have found the people more disposed
to applaud than to hinder his spoliations.
The regulars had great dislike to the mendicant friars,
who went among the people, communicating such know
ledge as it might be — and the kind was not a matter of
first-rate importance, considering that the people had no
mental resource or excitement, nothing to fall back upon
in the hours of labour or occupation ; save the mere gratifi
cation of their bodily appetites. There are evidences of this
jealousy having actuated the canons of Christchurch; for
the carvings which are or were upon the stalls in the chapel,
are all satires on the friars. One, figured as a fox, with a
cock to say amen, preaches to a flock of geese ; another, in
the form of a rat, is eating up the mess of pottage, upon
which John Bull, in the character of a zany, has just turned
his back ; and, as in a variety of other devices, some often
appear to be a little two-edged ; for iri one place, there is a
baboon of huge rotundity lolling upon a pillow, which, al
though habited in the costume of a friar, has far more the
appearance of a monk. These are of course in the chancel,
where there are other ancient carvings ; among the rest is
an altar-piece, with a genealogical tree, from " the root of
Jesse," the idea of which appears to have been copied by
Hogarth, in his " Marriage a la Mode." Near the altar
are the mangled remains of the very beautiful chapel, which
had been built by Margaret, the venerable countess of
Salisbury, as a resting-place for her bones ; and which was
so wantonly destroyed by Henry's itinerant plunderers. It
is not difficult to understand the reason why Henry set his
bandogs so mercilessly upon this beautiful and unoccupied
tomb. The illustrious lady who had erected it was grand
daughter to Warwick the king-maker, and daughter to
Clarence, brother to Edward IV; and she was mother to
Cardinal Pole and Lord Montague. But this, though it
explains, does not palliate, the atrocity of destroying this
beautiful monument. This was the lady who, when con
demned and brought to the block for high-treason, in the

THE NEW FOREST. 275
seventieth year of her age, replied, when they asked her to
lay her head on the fatal pillow : " No, such is the custom
of traitors ; but Margaret is no traitor. If my head must be
taken off, it shall never be said that I stooped to have it
done." Her two sons met with the same fate, and were no
more guilty than herself. All the remains which are to be
found in this sequestered spot would, however, require a
volume for their simple enumeration, and we can afford little
.more than a page.
The original plan appears to have been in the form of a
cross, with a tower over the intersection ; but whether this
was ever completed we cannot say. The architecture of the
part that remains, has square pillars, with demi-columns sup
porting semicircular arches, enriched by zig-zag mouldings, —
which style appears to have been introduced the next age after
the tenth century ; and as the same style is found in most of
the old Norman churches in Hants, it must be referred to the
end of the eleventh, or early part of the twelfth century — as
the style began to be altered in character after the Crusades,
which are said to have introduced a little of the Saracenic
taste. The several parts of the ruin — for taken as a whole,
it is nothing else, present many styles of architecture, and
form altogether a rather' heterogeneous assemblage ; which,
however, is rather imposing in its general effect. The
square tower at the west end belongs to the fourteenth cen
tury, and was built by the Montacutes, then earls of Salis
bury ; as the arms of that family are on the shields at the
sides of the doorway. Over the doorway there is a large
and handsome window, surmounted by a niche containing
a figure of Christ, to whom the priory was dedicated after
the introduction of the regular canons. The tower is 120 feet
high, and contains a peal of eight bells, rather remarkable for
the inscriptions upon them. These legends are in the church
text, and in monkish rhyme with abbreviations ; but that on
the fifth means something like this, —
O bell of fame, Touzunes by name,
Thy power can charm, us from all harm.
NN 2

276 THE NEW FOREST.
The sixth is a little more impudent, or rather we should
say impious. It is not so easily rendered; but it runs
something as follows — the party abjurgated, meaning devils
of all denominations :
The lamb first made, the fiend afraid ;
Augustine next, the demon vexed •
Now this great bell, sends him to hell.
This is not literal, for the jargon cannot be rendered into
any sort of language ; but this is the meaning ; and it will
be perceived that there is a climax in it, and in this consists
the impious blasphemy : — Saint Augustine is more efficient
against the devil than the " Lamb of God ; " and the great
bell at Christchurch is more efficient than both together !
The nave of the chapel is now used as the parish church ;
but, from the marks of dilapidation upon it, it has not a
pleasant appearance. There is an incongruity between these
old chapels, which were intended only for procession and '
prayer, and a modern place of worship, in which people sit in
pews to be instructed ; and this incongruity is offensive, — a
feeling which ought never to be excited by anything in a
place set apart for the service of God.
There has been an intention of forming an arched roof to
the nave of this chapel, but it is doubtful whether this
ever was completed. It has however been ceiled, and orna
mented according to the taste of the times. The church has
a vaulted ceiling, the ribs of which intersect each other in a
very graceful manner ; and the bosses are ornamented by
painted busts. The ascent to the high altar is by four steps ;
and in the uppermost there is a large stone inscribed with
the name of " Baldwin " son of William, earl of Devon. He
died on the 1st of September, 1216 \ but the date is not
mentioned on the stone. Below this there is a crypt, where
masses appear to have been said for the souls of the illus
trious dead.
St Mary's, or the Lady chapel, forms the eastern portion of
the assemblage. This was built about the end of the four
teenth and beginning of the fifteenth centuries. It is in the

THE NEW FOREST.

277

loft over this chapel that the free-school is taught ; and the
old ambulatory of the monks is the the play-ground for the
scholars. With the exception of the cloister, the whole of
the precinct of this foundation is now private property, and
not many parts of the buildings remain. Vestiges of the
fish-ponds, gardens, and other means of providing the larder,
may be traced by those who are cunning in such matters ;
and some time ago a very curious deposite was found under a
stone in the floor of an inner apartment of the refectory.
This was about half-a-bushel of the tarsi and toes of birds —
chiefly poultry ; and herons, bitterns, and other echassiers,
which were held in high respect by the gourmands of
former times. There was, at the time, a good deal of anti
quarian conjecture as to the cause of this curious interment —
some supposing that there may have been a Roman temple
on the site, for the worship of Mars, or Apollo, or some
other deity, to which the cock was sacred ; but the legs of
herons and bitterns are rather against the hypothesis, as
they have not much to do with Mars, and they have still less
to do with Apollo. Why the feet were hidden there it is not
very easy to say; but there can be no doubt as to what be
came of the bodies of the birds.
Nearly two miles to the eastward of the priory, and on
the right-hand of the road to Lymington, is Somerford
grange, once the farm-house to the establishment. This
house, with the manor, was given to John Draper, the prior
— most likely because Henry's commissioners found him
to be " a very honest comfortable person." The house
is not a very ancient one, having evidently been con
structed long after the dissolution. To the east of it there
is appended a chapel, which, as it bears the initials of John
Draper, was probably built by him for devotional purposes,
after the demolition of the priory. At this place, there are
indications of fish-ponds and fatting-stews, matters which
were of great use to the brethren when they were compelled
to fast upon fish ; in which case they were careful that the
fish themselves should not have got the better of them by
fasting first.

278 THE NEW FOREST.
There appears to have been, at some time or other, a good
deal of fighting in this part of the country ; for besides the
entrenchments on Hengistbury or Christchurch head, to
which we have already alluded, there is a camp on St.
Catherine's hill, about a mile north of the town; and in
other places there are vestiges of entrenchments.
We omitted to notice, in the proper place, a very curious
legend connected with the building of the priory chapel,
and which is alleged, by the monkish authorities, as the
reason why the patronage of the renovated structure was
confined to one person of the Trinity. While they were
busied in building the church there was a strange workman,
who was always diligent when they were at labour, but
who never appeared at refreshment ; and, in consequence of
his presence of course, not an accident occurred during the
work. When it was nearly completed, an important beam,
for which they had no substitute, was found too short ; and
the men, not knowing what to do, retired to their habita
tions, to puzzle themselves for the night. Whether any of
them hit upon a remedy did not need to be ascertained ; for
when they went to see the work in the morning, the beam
was in its place, and not only of the requisite length, but a
foot more ; — so that there could be no doubt as to who had
finished the work, and consequently deserved the patronage
of an edifice, at the building of which he had laboured so
diligently. There are persons at the present day who can
point out the very beam, and it may be, who believe the
legend ; but we understand that doubts exist as to whether
the supernatural elongation took place at the but or the
crop end of the tree. That, however, is a matter of minor
importance, as it would be equally a miracle both ways.
That such legends as this, which are equally abusive of the
common sense of men, and calculated to injure, in as far as
can be injured by human impudence, the majesty of heaven,
in the estimation of rational beings, gives a very mournful
picture of the state of the monastic mind. To say that He, by
whom all worlds and all their inhabitants are created, should

THE NEW FOREST. 279
come down from heaven, and work as a common labourer
at the building of a chapel in an obscure village, to say
nothing of the miraculous lengthening of the beam, shows
that the parties inventing the absurdity, could have had no
correct notions whatever of that Being in whose service they
professed to drawl out their lives.
lymington division.
This portion of the New Forest district, occupies the
central part of the south side, extending about ten miles
along the coast and nine into the interior, reckoning from
the point at Hurst castle, which is its extreme south, and
about the middle of the sea coast. The western boundary
commences at Chewton brook, in the bay of Christchurch,
and about four miles to the eastward of that town ; and it
extends northward and a little to the east for about eight
miles, till it touches on the Boldre water, or Lymington
river, in the Forest, and not many miles from its source.
The northern boundary lies directly east and west, the
western termination being rather more than two miles
north-west of Beaulieu church; and from this point the
eastern boundary extends southward, and meets the sea
rather more than three miles to the eastward of the Ly
mington river.
This is rather an interesting section of the New Forest,
both from its natural characters and from its history. A
good deal of the upper part, towards the forest, consists of
sandy heights covered with furze, and incapable of profitable
cultivation; but along the Lymington river, and also along
the Avon which flows through the southern part of the
section, much of the scenery is beautiful; and the land is
fertile, though no part of it can be considered as rich. The
south-west coast presents towards the sea a succession of
mud cliffs of considerable height, which are in a state of
disintegration by the action of the weather and the tide;
and within Hurst castle, on the south-east, the shores are
receiving continual additions by shingle, immediately north

280 THE NEW FOREST.
of the castle ; and silt further to the eastward, which in
process of time threatens to silt-up all the creeks, and render
them unserviceable for navigation.
This division is composed of three sub-divisions, — the
upper half-hundred of Christchurch, in the south-west ; the
parliamentary liberty of the borough of Lymington, in the
the south-east ; and the upper half-hundred of the New
Forest, in the north, but extending southward in a narrow
tongue between the two former, to the sea coast on the left
bank of the Avon.
The upper half-hundred of Chrischurch is about five
miles in its extreme dimensions both ways ; but its whole
surface does not exceed a square of four miles in the side.
The north part of it is rather high and bleak, with not many
inhabitants ; but the south, though by no means a rich
country, is more thickly inhabited. The greater portion of
it lies between the liberty of the borough of Christchurch,
as already described, and the Avon water ; but toward the
north, there is a portion on the north-east or left bank of
that stream. It contains three parishes, the churches and
villages of which are all situated at no great distance from
the sea. These parishes are Milton, Hordle, and Milford,
lying successively to the south-east of each other.
Milton is about six miles to the westward of Lymington,
on the right-hand side of the road to Christchurch. Though
the living is only a curacy subordinate to the vicarage of
Milford, the parish is of considerable extent and value ; the
population being 956, and the annual value, by the returns,
4875/. Though there are no manufactures, the population
of this parish has increased nearly 200 since the previous
return, which indicates a thriving state of an agricultural
parish ; and perhaps this may be in part attributed to the
comparative suppression of smuggling, by which the inha
bitants of this part of the coast used to be sadly demoralised.
The improved morals of the district have attracted several
visitors to the coast in summer ; and those who wish to en
joy the full sweets of the sea air, and the most extensive and

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THE NEW FOREST. 281
sea- views, cannot find a more eligible situation, or one which
is more removed from the turmoil and trouble of the world,
than this.
Hordle is the next parish south-eastward of Milton. This
parish is neither so large nor so populous as Milton, — the
population being about 700, and the yearly valuation 1932/.
The surface is, generally speaking, rather more elevated than
that of the former parish ; and Hordle cliff is among the
tallest upon this part of the coast, and perhaps it suffers
more than any other from the action of the weather. In
proof of the ravages which the sea has committed here, it
may be mentioned that Hordle possessed Salterns at the time
of the Conquest ; and that the keen eye of a believing anti
quary may still trace the remains of them, at or near the low-
water mark, at very low spring-tides. Hordle cliff forms a
down of considerable beauty, though, from the cause just
mentioned, it is gradually diminishing in extent. The
summit of it is covered with fine short grass, and makes a
delightful promenade. In particular, it commands a very
fine view of the Needles, which, raising their jagged masses
of chalk above the water, bear no inconsiderable likeness
to shark's teeth on a gigantic scale. When seen near, those
lumps of chalk, and the chalky promontory of the Isle of
Wight which forms the south side of Alum bay, have very
little beauty ; but, seen from Hordle cliff, they are much im
proved, especially in an evening light ; and, as fogs frequently
form at this place, the refraction produced by these often
causes the Needles and the cliffs to loom out in the most
grotesque shapes.
The cliff at Hordle is composed of various beds of clay,
sand, and gravel ; and the clay, which is of a bluish tint,
contains a number of shells. This peculiar stratum of clay
runs northward into the Forest, and, as far as it extends, there
are shells in it. In some places it is covered with gravel,
and sand, and marl, to the depth of about twenty feet, and in
others it comes nearly to the surface. It seems a totally
different formation from those matters which are superposed
VOL II. oo

282 THE NEW FOREST.
upon it ; and would indicate that the tertiary formation has
been a work of many ages, and not the result of any one
grand catastrophe. This clay is the main cause of the dis
integration of the cliff. The land-springs get down to it
through the sand and gravel ; and as it absorbs the water,
the frosts tear it in pieces. There is also another kind of
action, which is of some use in explaining the land-slips
that take place in some of the clayey and marly formations
in this county. The action of the weather, forms a sort of
crust upon the clay or marie which confines the water, up to
a certain amount ; but then, when the rains come, and the
springs pour in an additional quantity of water, the clay or
marl is reduced to sludge, the hydrostatical pressure of which
bursts the hardened crust toward the sea, and down goes the
cliff in a mass of ruin.
Milford is the richest and most populous parish in the
half-hundred, — the yearly valuation being 6936/., and the
population 1533 ; which is an increase of 200 since 1821.
Through this parish, and partially also through that of
Hordle, there runs a pleasant little stream, which rises in
the Forest, near the Rising Sun public-house, and after a
course of about seven miles, one of which is over the mud and
flattened shingle banks at low water, falls into the Solent
immediately to the northward of Hurst castle. The country
on both sides of this little stream, but more especially on
the north side, between it and the Avon, is very pleasant,
consisting of enclosed grounds, interspersed with clumps of
plantations and pleasant villages. The chief village, which
contains a considerable number of houses, is close by the left
bank of the stream, and the church about a furlong distant
on the same side. This stream flows immediately behind
the cliff at Hordle ; and approaches close to the bank of
shingle, where it meets the high-water mark to the westward
of Hurst castle. About half-a-mile north-east of this point,
there are the two pleasant villages of Key-haven and Vidley-
bar — close adjoining to each other ; and with these the half-
hundred may be said to terminate.

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THE NEW FOREST.

283

At this place the shore is rather low ; and the most remark
able feature of it is the shingle bank, at the extremity of
which Hurst castle is situated. The whole length of this
bank, from the land to the beach beyond the castle, is nearly
two miles, — the first part of the length extending south-east
ward for about a mile and a quarter, the remainder extend
ing direct east for more than half-a-mile, and the point turn.
ing north-west for nearly the same distance. The whole of
the southern or seaward side of this very curious point, is
composed of shingle, which is drifted from the westward,
and the sea is stormy and dangerous upon this side ; but upon
the landward or north-east side, the point forms a safe and
sheltered roadstead. The castle upon the point of this road
was built by Henry VIII, it consists of a round-tower with
semicircular bastions, and from its small elevation above the
surface of the water, and the narrowness of the strait be
tween it and the Isle of Wight, which is not much more than
a mile across, it would, in case of necessity, completely com
mand this entrance into the narrow seas. Such command was
of importance at the time when the castle was construct
ed; but while England retains the command of the sea,
these guard forts will be of little importance. Hurst castle
has acquired some note in history, from being one of the
places where Charles the First was kept in confinement. He
was brought hither from Newport, on the first of September
1648, and remained here until the twenty-third day of the
Same month, when he was carried to Windsor under a strong
escort. Charles is not the only prisoner who has been im
mured in this castle, for Potil Atkinson, a Catholic priest,
a native of Yorkshire, having been betrayed by a worthless
maid servant, whom he rescued from misery and charitably
maintained in his house, was doomed to imprisonment for
life here, though guilty of no offence save worshipping his
God according to the dictates of his conscience. Death re
lieved him from this unjust and cruel imprisonment in 1729,
and his body was interred at Winchester. No memorial of
this persecuted priest remains in the castle ; but there is, or
oo 2

284 THE NEW FOREST.
was, in the wretched apartments in which Charles was mewed
up, a copy of what are called the Golden Rules of that talent
ed, but misguided and unfortunate, monarch. No man who
loves the weal of England can advocate the principles upon
which Charles attempted to govern the country ; but the
heart of a man is not in him who does not feel for the
Royal Sufferer.
The Borough of Lymington. Lymington is a very de
lightful bittle town. The greater part of it is upon an ele
vated ground, which is remarkably dry and airy ; and the prin
cipal street, which is spacious and well-built, and lies in the
direction of east and west, has so much descent eastward to
the river as keeps it very clean. When the tide is in, the
river is a fine expanse of water, and contrasts beautifully
with the land, the building, and the trees; but when the
tide is back the banks are sludgy and disagreeable. Small
vessels can still come up to the quays at the lower part of
the town ; but, it is understood, that the silting up of the es
tuary has been greatly increased by a weir, which has been
most injudiciously thrown across the river a little to the
north. Lymington has a weekly market-day on Saturdays, and an
nual fairs on May 12, and October 2. It sends two members
to parliament ; and it may be regarded as both the port and
the metropolis of that portion of the New Forest which abuts
on the Solent. Besides this, the extreme healthiness of its
situation, the beauty of the surrounding scenery, the delight
ful drive from Redbridge through the forest, and the easy com
munication with the Isle of Wight, ,either by sailing boats,
or by the regular steam-boat across to Yarmouth, which is
not above four miles from the town, or above half that dis
tance in the main channel clear of the river, it is one of the
sweetest spots in England for summer residence. For the
accommodation of the public, very commodious baths have
been erected at a short distance below the harbour; and,
taking it altogether, it is difficult to imagine a place where
those who can afford it may enjoy more, both of the land and

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the new forest. 285
waters. In pleasant summer weather, there is not perhaps
a yatching water on any part of the British shores, at all
comparable to the Solent. The enclosed part of it is about
fourteen miles long, and this is on the average of about two
miles wide, without bank or other interruption ; and then in
fine weather, eight miles more may be obtained, by doubling
the Needles, and proceeding as far as Freshwater, in the
Isle of Wight where fresh-water sailors will find a very
pleasant rest and be thankful.
As the district of country to which Lymington forms the
port and capital, though extremely beautiful, is neither very
large nor very populous ; the town can never become a place
of very great trade, though its river is by no means badly
adapted for navigation by small vessels. The population of
the borough is 3361, which is an increase of 200, since the
census in 1821 ; but since 1831, when the. last census was
published, it probably has increased a good deal more — as it
is a spirited and bustling little place. There is no building
of much importance in Lymington, for the parish church,
which is only a chapelry in the parish of Boldre, situated
farther up the river, is anything but handsome.
This place once derived great importance from its salt
works, which were the most valuable in the kingdom, and
were understood at one time to yield a large sum to Govern
ment in the tax upon culinary salt. Besides muriate of
soda, the sulphates of soda and magnesia, which are used
as aperients, under the names of Glauber's and Epsom salts,
were made in considerable quantity at these works. As it
comes more directly from the Atlantic, the water of the
Channel is more impregnated with saline ingredients than
that of the other coasts, especially the east coast of Britain ;
and during the heat of summer, the water, being inclosed in
shallow square tanks, was considerably concentrated by
evaporation before it was carried to the pans to be boiled
down. This boiling, at a place where' coal had to be carried
half-way round England, rendered the salt expensive ; and
it has of course been driven out of the market by that obtained

286

THE NEW FOREST.

from the Midland counties, the procuring of which is much
less expensive.
The early history of Lymington is involved in consi
derable obscurity. There is no doubt that the Romans had
a camp here, though whether it was one of habitual resort,
or whether there was any town here in their time, are
doubtful points. Where the Romans had a permanent
station, whether port or otherwise, they always connected it
with some adjoining place, by means of a road; and there is
no trace of a Roman road leading from Lymington to any
other part of the country. There are indeed the vestiges of
a Roman camp, though not a very large one, about a mile
north of Lymington ; these vestiges are on the right or west
bank of the river, immediately opposite Vicar's hill on the
eastern side. This camp is rectangular, with a double
mound and ditch, about 200 yards in length from east to
west, and rather less in breadth from north to south. Anti
quaries suppose that this camp was constructed by Vespasi
an, as a place of safety for his troops and galleys, during the
intervals of those excursions which he made for the conquest
of the Isle of Wight ; and they point out a sort of trench,
leading from the river to the camp, in which they suppose
the Roman galleys were drawn up for safety. This of course
is little better than conjecture ; but the form of the camp
leaves little doubt of its being Roman ; there are also many
barrows in the neighbourhood, which show that there has
been a good deal of fighting here ; and Roman coins and
urns have been found at or near the site of the present town.
Some of the authorities will indeed have it, that Lymington
was a town and port of some note before the Roman inva
sion, — that it was a sort of entrepot in the conveyance of tin
from the mines of Cornwall to the Isle of Wight, from which
isle it was taken, in exchange for other commodities, by the
Phoenicians and other traders from the Mediterranean. But
this story appears to be not merely improbable, but impossi
ble. The Isle of Wight, especially the back of the isle
toward the main Channel, is one of the very worst coasts in

THE NEW FOREST. 287
all England for the resort of shipping ; and to have carried
tin eastward, through Lymington to the Isle of Wight, for the
supply of ships which must have passed the Cornish coast,
both inward and outward, is very like " carrying coals to
Newcastle." We must therefore discard this notion of the
antiquity and importance of Lymington, both as a town and
a port ; though it may have been of more consequence in
the time of the Saxons, and even in those of the Britons
before them, than it was at the time of the Conquest ; for it
is understood that this portion of the country, separated as
it was from the rest of England by the woods and wilds in
the central parts of the forest, must have suffered sadly from
the destructive inroads of the Danes. In Doomsday Book
the only mention made of Lymington (under the name of
Lentune) is, that Earl Roger held a hide of land there, of
which one half, consisting of woods, was taken into the fo
rest ; the remainder, consisted of two plough-lands and four
acres of meadow, with a villager, two serviles, and three bor
derers, holding one plough-land together with the meadows.
This does not say much for the value of the place in those
days; and it is not very probable that a town existed,
otherwise it would have been named in the record.
This Earl Roger, was Roger de Yvery, one of the chosen
followers of the Conquerer, and the sworn friend of another
Norman, Robert D'Oyley. These two had agreed to divide
equally between them, whatever lands they might win by
their swords, or by the favour of their royal master. The
chivalrous spirit of Robert carried him further than this,
however ; for, after the conflict was over, he succeeded in
conquering the affections of a fair Saxon, of vast fortune,
Alditha, daughter of Wigod, of Wallingford; and Robert
shared her ample fortune with his friend Earl Roger.
Earl Roger continued faithful to the Conqueror; but he
took part against Rufus, in which he failed, and had his
lands forfeited to the crown. This manor, with all the land
westward to Christchurch, and eastward to Beaulieu, re
mained under the royal possession until the reign of Henry I,

288 THE NEW FOREST.
who bestowed it, together with the lordship of the Isle of
Wight, upon Richard de Redvers, of whom we have already
taken notice, when mentioning Christchurch. It is under
stood that, from the power of this baron, the convenience of
its port, and the value of its salt-works, Lymington became
a place of considerable importance as early as the twelfth
century. The Redvers' family dilapidated their estates by
donations to monasteries — which was the usual way of aton
ing for sin in those days ; and they ultimately died out, in
the end of the thirteenth century, in the person of an old
lady, who, upon her death-bed, made over the whole to Ed
ward III ; but he appears to have been satisfied with the
lordship of the Isle of Wight, and to have returned the
barony of Lymington to the heir at law, Courtnay, baron of
Oakhampton. It was in the reign of this same Edward, that Lymington
appears first to have been considered as a borough, and was
summoned to send members to parliament ; but it did not
avail itself of the privelege until the twenty-seventh of
Elizabeth. The name of Dore is of some note in the domestic history
of Lymington. During the times when these coasts were plun
dered by the French, a party of these marauders landed ; and
the leader, being very hungry, was resolved to feast before he
began to plunder. The mansion of Madam Dore promised to
have the best larder, and thither the gallant marauder wended
to have his refection. The lady set before him the very best
that her house afforded, and kept him company with such good
humour that he thanked her, made his bow, and embarked
without doing the smallest injury. Colonel Thomas Dore
was one of those upon whom Monmouth mainly depended in
his rebellion against James II ; but, as the colonel had only
meditated, not actually joined the rebellion, he was pardoned.
There is another instance of female strategy mentioned in
this case. The conspirators, who were planning how the
town might most efficiently second the designs of Monmouth,
met at the house of Mrs. Knapton, were they assisted them-

THE NEW FOREST. 289'
selves in their cogitations with pipes and ale. During one
of their meetings they got intelligence that a party to appre
hend them had entered the town. Upon this, Mrs. Knapton
despatched them by the back windows, removed the pipes
and drinking vessels, and, in order to cloak the real cause of
the hugue of tobacco in the room, muffled up her jaws in
flannel ; so that when the party entered, they found nothing
but an old woman to all appearance grievously afflicted with
the tooth ache, and puffing at a tobacco pipe with all her
might as means of relief.
The politics of this borough, or at all events those of the
Dores, appear to have changed greatly between the reign of
Charles I and that of James II. ' In the former, they did all
they could to assist Prince Charles in his attempts to rescue
his father from his imprisonment in Carisbrook castle ; but
in the latter, the colonel already alluded to, not only took
part with Monmouth, but was very zealous in bringing about
the revolution. Subsequently, ^Lymington had much the
character of a property or nomination borough, the number
of voters not having exceeded seventy, and the influence of
the borough being in the possession of the Neale family. At
present, the parliamentary boundaries extend over a conside
rable, but very irregularly shaped, district on the sea-coast.
It extends about four miles on the straight line, from the mid
dle of the salt works westward to near Sowley on the east,
and one point of it extends three miles up the east side of
the Lymington water to Boldre ; but, on the west side of the
river, it extends only about a mile and a half from the sea.
The environs of the town are very beautiful, especially on
the east or opposite side of the river, for the surface there
is much diversified with swellings and dales, and it is well
wooded. When however, a well- wooded district is mentioned
in this part of Hampshire, it must not be considered as con
taining such majestic trees as occur in the rich soils in the
midland parts of England. In most places here, the trees are
gnarly and stunted, and never attain any very great height,
VOL. II. PP

290 THE NEW FOREST
though their timber is probably more durable than that of
trees of larger and more rapid growth.
The upper half-hundred of the New Forest, which forms
the remainder of the Lymington division, contains only two
parishes, those of Boldre and Brokenhurst ; and the unaf-
forested land contained in them lies in very irregular patches,
spotted about among the woods and naked moors, — the woods
being mostly on the slopes, the naked moors on the heights,
and meadow or marsh in the bottoms, though to this there
are local exceptions, depending on the nature of the soil,
which is very variable. Boldre is an extensive parish ; and
it is also one of considerable value*. The annual valuation
was indeed higher than that of the borough of Lymington,
being 7780/., and the population by the census in 1831, was
2111, which was less than it had been ten years previous.
Some of the inhabitants of the outskirts of this parish are
very poor persons who have obtained their huts by trespass
on the forest ; and therefore the annual value is not so high,
in proportion to the population, as it is in some of the parishes
farther to the south. Boldre is the original parish church
and village, and in Domesday Book it is named Bovreford,
which means the place for the passage of cattle. The situ-
.ation of the church is very beautiful; though the building
itself has little to recommend it, being a compound of different
styles of architecture. The parsonage, situated on Vicar's
hill southward of the church, is also very finely exposed ;
and not very long ago, the parish had the happiness of pos
sessing a vicar, who was equally an honor to his sacred calling
and to human nature, this was the Reverend William Gilpin,
so well known for his exquisite taste in the feeling and
delineation of natural beauties, more especially those of forest
scenery. Gilpin's heart was as kind as his taste was exquisite,
and his beneficence will be as long remembered in this his
favorite parish, as his writings are by every lover of nature
and of genuine taste, without alloy of mannerism or conceit.
He deserved a monument in Westminster abbey, incalculably
more than dozens who flaunt it in proud but somewhat faith-

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THE NEW FOREST. 291
less marble there ; and yet we are not sure that the plain
tomb under the old yew-tree in Boldre churchyard, with the
simple inscription " Sacred to the memory of the Rev. Wm.
Gilpin, A. M." is not more true to the character of the man
than aught which Thorwaldsen himself could chisel. It is
a high honour for Hampshire to have possessed such a man ;
and the only one whom we can bring into any sort of
comparison with him is the gentle historian of Selborne, the
Reverend Gilbert White. Both were men not to be repeated
in a century ; but they had their different walks, — White
delineated the substance of nature with admirable simplicity
and truth ; but Gilpin conjured up the spirit, and gave that,
which all feel by touches, but which few can appreciate, " a
local habitation and a name ;" so that, if one but opens his
enchanted and enchanting book in the veriest wild of nature,
that wild forthwith becomes an Eden in primeval bloom.
Gilpin established, at Boldre, schools for the education of
twenty boys and an equal number of girls ; and he devoted
to the endowment of those schools the whole of his drawings
and sketches; which, when sold in London, netted more
money than had been anticipated. He was in fact a model
of men and of vicars ; and one knows not whether most to
admire his natural or his professional character.
Brockenhurst, the next parish north of Boldre, and the
only other one in this division of the county, is a place of
considerable antiquity, and very beautifully situated. The
name literally means, the "hurst," "hirst." or height of the..
yew-trees, " Brocken " being the genitive of the name of a
yew-tree in the Anglo-Saxon language ; and " hurst " has,
of course, its ordinary signification, — that of a dry elevation.
This is literally the character of the place. It stands upon
an elevation, from which a pleasant view of a considerable
part of the forest, which is very beautiful as seen from the
heights here, is obtained.
Though Brockenhurst is more immediately within the
limits of the New Forest than any other place, excepting
Lyndhurst/ it does not appear to have been afforested by
pp 2

292 THE NEW FOREST.
William, or even by those of his successors, who certainly
extended the forest much farther than he had done. The
church must have existed before the Conquest, as it is men
tioned in the Domesday Survey ; and if the building is not
Saxon, it is at least of the earliest Norman. The land is in
some places a strong clay loam ; and the trees upon it are of
larger size than in most of the adjoining parts. Of (these, an
oak and a yew in the church-yard are among the most mag
nificent, though the latter has been lopped of some of its
branches. The parish contains more than 800 inhabitants,
and the yearly valuation was 3119/. The Boldre or Lyming
ton river passes by the north end of the village. In winter
it is a considerable stream ; but in the dry season it contains
little water ; and what it does contain is very deeply tinged
with oxide of iron and peat. The village is straggling, but
very rural ; and the situation of the park and manor-house
is fine. DIBDEN LIBERTY.
This occupies the eastern part of the New Forest district ;
and its form resembles that of a triangle, having its two sea
ward sides about eight miles in length each, and its landward
side about nine miles. Some parts of the interior are very
bare, being upon the worst portion of the crag sand ; but
the coasts are very beautiful — more so perhaps than those
of any other part of the district.
In this liberty there are the four parishes of Dibden,
Fawley, Exberry, and Beaulieu. Dibden, which was an
ciently written Depedene — which means a dell of thick
wood, was a place of some note at the time of the Conquest ;
but three-fifths of its extent were taken into the forest, al
though it is probable that they were the uninhabited parts.
This part of the district is exceedingly beautiful ; and it is
remarkably accessible, for Hythe, the ferry across to South
ampton, is near the middle of the most beautiful portion ;
and when the Southampton Railway is completed, it will be
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THE NEW FOREST. 293
and breakfast here. The value of the parish was returned
at 2366/., and the population is upwards of 500. The church
is an ancient structure, but has little to recommend it, save
the remains of a most venerable yew-tree in the church-yard.
A considerable portion of mud-bank has been enclosed and
recovered at Dibden ; and it were well if the example were
followed in other parts on this side the Southampton Water.
This is the sheltered side ; and the land along the shore is
richer and the scenery more beautiful than on the opposite
side, where the foliage of the trees is much injured by the
sea air. The freehold land here consists principally of
grants from the crown ; and some of the tenures are a little
whimsical. That of Burr farm, a few miles north of the
village of Dibden, is held upon the obligation of presenting
two, white greyhounds to the king, when he enters the New
Forest ; and we believe the lord of the manor preserves a
white breed, in case of emergency, though they have not
been exacted of him since 1789, when a pair were presented
to George III.
Fawley, which occupies the south-eastern angle of the
district, is a more populous parish than Dibden, though less
valuable according to the returns. Its population is 1839,
and the annual value only 1539/. Calshot castle is in this
parish; and it is one of the memorials of Henry VIII, who is
said to have set the example to Cromwell, of building forts
out of the ruins of abbeys. This was, of course, quite in
character ; for, as Henry had declared himself head of the
church in his legal capacity, which is, of course, always
more or less, a military one, forts and guns were far more
appropriate insignia of his sacerdotal authority than monks
and bells. Cadland park, situated a little to the north of
the parish church and village of Fawley, is one of the most
beautiful residences in the New Forest; whether we con
sider its own grounds, or the land and water by which it is
surrounded. The house is on a gentle eminence, surrounded
by a judicious admixture of lawn and wood ; and it takes
in a large extent both of sea and land ; as if they were its

294 THE NEW FOREST.
appendages. The three forks of the sea, toward Southamp
ton, toward Spithead, and toward the Needles, are all visi
ble ; two of them are land-locked, and a very little imagina
tion will give that character to the other, and they then appear
as one gigantic lake. The village of Fawley is one of the
largest in the New Forest. There are many very fine trees
in this part of the country ; and the bottoms upon the small
streams within the forest are favourite grazing ground for
deer. Exberry, to which Leap is attached, lies on the left bank
of the Beaulieu river ; and the surface around is very beau
tifully wooded. These woods are chiefly of oak of natural
growth, though they are private property. The population
of this parish is 325, and the valued rental 1906/. There
is some reason to believe that the church of Exberry is the
oldest upon the river ; because the original name of the
river is the Ex, though the importance of the abbey during
the middle ages occasioned it to be called the Beaulieu river.
Beaulieu is the last parish in this part of the district.
Like the last-mentioned one it is very finely wooded, espe
cially in the vicinity of the river ; and, in some places,
the woods melt off very finely into the open moors of the
New Forest. The population of this parish is 1298, and
the yearly valuation 5299/. While the cibbey existed it
held the tithes of the parish, and the consequence is that it
is now only a curacy.
Beaulieu abbey is situated, that is, was situated, to the
north-east of the village, on the left or opposite bank of the
river, across which there is here a bridge. Small vessels
can come up to the bridge ; and many spots on the beauti
ful reaches below are well adapted for ship building. Of
the abbey few remains are left, nor are those which do exist
of much interest. This abbey was founded and endowed
by King John, in the year 1204; and there is a ridiculous
legend of his being induced to this holy act, in consequence
of a dream, that the Cistercian abbots were flogging his
royal body, in presence and by order of a judge. According

THE NEW FOREST.

295

to the legend, John had summoned the Cistercian abbots
to Lincoln, where he ordered his retinue to trample them to
death under the feet of their horses ; but, the attendants
refusing, the abbots scampered off; the following night John
dreamed as beforesaid, and the result was, especial favour
bestowed on the Cistercians, including the establishment of
Beaulieu abbey among the rest. John endowed it very
richly, and granted a sum of money toward the building of
it ; but it was so splendid that 4000 marks remained unli
quidated, for which a grant was made of the impropriation
of Cokewell in Berks. Henry III confirmed all the grants,
and added free warren, and the privilege of markets within
the manor of Farendon ; and Edward III added a tun of
wine annually for the celebration of mass. Pope Innocent
invested the abbey precincts with the privilege of sanctuary,
and exempted it from tithes and imposts. All these privileges
remained till the dissolution by Henry VIII, who confer
red the manor upon the earl of Southampton. This abbey
was twice used as a sanctuary in cases of some importance,
during the time that it retained its privilege. One of these
was by Margaret of Anjou, queen of Henry III, when, on
returning from the continent, she found that the army was
destroyed, the earl of Warwick killed, her husband a pri
soner, and Edward IV on the throne. Margaret received
this disastrous intelligence upon her landing at Weymouth ;
the shock subdued even her bold spirit ; she fled to the
sanctuary with her young son, where, however, her courage
and some of her friends again rallied. The other case was
that of Perkin Warbeck, who fled hither when worsted
before Exeter. The sanctuary was however invested by
Lord Daubeney, with 300 men. The promises of Henry
VII drew Warbeck from his place of safety; and in a
manner, the right and wrong of which would not be easily
settled, he was committed to the Tower, and afterwards was
executed at Tyburn, in 1449.
It is understood that the sanctuary extended to the whole
precinct of the abbey, but not to the manor which is more

296 THE NEW FOREST.
than twenty-five miles in circuit. That of the precinct has
been about a mile and a half, and some portions of the wall,
in which there appears to have been only one gate, still
remain. The abbot's lodging, the dormitory, and the
kitchen, can still be traced ; and the present parish church
of Beaulieu is understood to have been the refectory. This
is a strong but plain building, with a curious oak roof,
having the intersections of the beams ornamented with
various rude sculptures. There is no ancient monument
within this church, as it was not a place of worship till after
the suppression, at which time, or soon afterwards, the abbey
church appears to have been completely dismantled, and now
there is not a vestige of it left. Against the west wall of
the church, there is a demi-octagonal rostrum or pulpit, from
which the reader used to edify the monks during the time
they were at their meals. The following quotation will ex
plain in what manner this was done. " Let the reader of
the refectory, after prayers, carry the proper books into that
apartment. Let him stand before his book with his face
turned toward the east. When the brethren bow at the
Gloria Patri and the Lord's Prayer, let the reader also in
cline himself, turning his face toward the assembly. The
reader should not seat himself till the head of the convent
is seated. Let him read historical books with a sonorous
voice, but sermons and homilies with a more gentle and en
gaging one." We add also a little more to show how the
brethren were to demean themselves : — " When we enter
the refectory, let us uncover our heads ; and approaching
our seats, let us incline our bodies to the cross. So also in
the refectory, we should not behave idly, but demean our
selves with propriety, lest we be an offence to any of our
brethren. It behoves" us, likewise, to keep our eyes fixed
when we are in this apartment, lest any occasion of mur
muring, quarrelling, or laughing, be given; according to
the saying of the blessed Hugh of Lincoln :— ' Let us have
our hands and eyes upon the table, our ears with the reader,
and our hearts with God.'

THE NEW FOREST. 297
When we drink let us hold the cup with both our hands.
It is improper for us to cleanse our mouths, or our hands,
with the napkin, in the refectory. We should not put our
platters from us, till the president has put away his ; nor let
us roll up our napkins, until the prior, or abbot, has rolled
up his."
» This extract, which is literally translated from the original,
shows what kind of discipline was carried on in those mo
nastic establishments, which once possessed so large a share
both of property and of power in England. No system
could be better calculated for destroying all the energies of
the human character, and rendering the monk the mere
slave of his superiors; and this seems to have been the
grandest object of these establishments.
Still, the monks at Beaulieu appear to have had sufficient
regard to the good things of this world. From the few
fragments that yet exist, we must conclude that their build
ings had been very splendid ; and there are remains of fish
ponds and stews, as well as of canals and pipes for the
supply of purer water than that of the river. It is probable
also that the monks manufactured their own wine from
grapes grown on ground a little to the northward of the
abbey, which ground is still called " the vineyards ;" this
term is applied to fields adjoining other places in the south
of England where there have been religious houses, as at
Winchester for instance ; and they are generally southward-
sloping banks, which would answer well for vine culture.
It has sometimes been said that superstition is prone to
linger about the ruins of abbeys ; and we may mention a
single instance in the case of this one, — that of Mary Dore,
the witch of Beaulieu. Like the rest of her craft, this
delegate of the dark power, was an old woman in humble
life ; and she was never known to be mischievous, or to
cast her spells upon any one ; but she had no inconsiderable
control over her own form and dimensions. Being some
what addicted to the pilfering of sticks in the adjoining
woods, she would, instantly upon being discovered, trans-
VOL. II. QQ

298 THE NEW FOREST.
form herself into a hen or a cat; but whether her power
extended to the transformation of the bundle into a tuft of
grass, or a mouse, the authorities do not say. Among those
who believed in, and even respected, this self-changing
female, John, second duke of Montague, to whom the
manor belonged, and who was most zealous in clearing the
rubbish from the few remains of the abbey, is said to have
been included. At all events, he erected a tomb to her
memory ; but that has now perished, and it does not appear
that the enchantress has had any successor.
Beaulieu has now little attraction, save for the exquisite
beauty of the scenery along the river, which, though it has
not a single element of grandeur, is not, of its kind, ex
celled by any in England. It is however, simply, a beauti
ful place, and the confined district in which it lies will
prevent it from ever acquiring any general importance.
The principal grange belonging to Beaulieu abbey was
at St. Leonard's, about two miles and a half to the south ;
and not quite a mile south-west of this was another grange —
Park farm. These granges had chapels attached to them,
in which certain parts of the service were occasionally per
formed. There are some remains of these chapels which
show that they were neatly constructed ; but the fragments
of them have been devoted to the most common farming
purposes. The barn at St. Leonard's shows upon how
magnificent a scale these monks carried on their farming
operations. It has been more than 225 feet long, 77 wide,
and upwards of 60 in height. — Such are a few remini
scences of the once stately abbey of Beaulieu, which appears
to have been one of the richest in this part of England;
but, of the sayings or the doings of its monastic inhabitants,
we believe there is no memorial.
Rather more than a mile to the westward of Park farm,
the village of Sowley is situated, where there is a pretty
large sheet of water, known by the name of Sowley pond.
This served to turn the machinery at the Sowley forges,
where iron of very superior quality wTas made, and which

THE NEW FOREST. 299
was formerly of great importance, though that, of course,
has diminished in latter times. This used formerly to be
called Freshwater, and it formed the boundary of the abbey
lands in this direction. It is in part retained by an en-
bankment ; and in some places it is very deep. About a
mile and a half to the westward of Sowley, at Baddesley,
there was a preceptory of Knights Templar. Many years
ago, when people were a little more prone to superstition
than they are now, " the groaning tree of Baddesley," was
a subject of much conversation and some alarm in this part
of the country. It was first heard by the wife of a cot
tager, who was greatly alarmed; but others soon heard it
also ; the groans were ascertained to proceed from an elm,
an apparently healthy tree, which grew at the bottom of a
garden, and which soon attracted the inhabitants of the neigh
bourhood, rapidly extended in celebrity, was a subject of
visitation, and had a guide book, describing the tone and
manner of its lamentations. How long it might have con
tinued to be thus attractive there are no data for determi
ning. It did mourn away for about a year and a half, and
attracted royal visitors among others; but the proprietor,
by way of making one experiment for finding the cause,
bored a hole in the trunk, upon which the tree became
silent ; as a second experiment he had it grubbed up ; but
this left him just as much in the dark as ever, and prevented
any one else from assisting him in solving the mystery.
There is no doubt that many of the noises that are
heard in woods, in houses, and sometimes in hollow and
cavernous places of the earth, which alarm the timorous in all
ages, and which were attributed to certain divinities by the
ancients, and to spirits pegged up by enchanters — as Pros-
pero found his Ariel, in the more fanciful superstitions ; —
there is no doubt that these sounds are, in many instances,
produced by musical instruments of Nature's making, and of
which we are perfectly ignorant. Let but the wind howl
through a leafless clump in the winter, and there are not
only as many distinct tones as twigs, but very generally
0.Q 2

300 THE NEW FOREST.
some one bole or branch, for no reason one can discover,
gives " one groan more " after the fury of the blast has
dashed by. We know but little of the power and compass
of so mighty an instrument as the earth ; and we know as
little of the kind and degree of action that can bring out its
sound, in every particular case. We do know that when
one of the small beetles, or their larvee, which subsist in
the interior of timber, gnaws asunder a certain portion of
the growth, a crack, as loud as the report of a small pistol,
is sometimes given, although the primary cause of the con
cussion is a mere nothing. The parting of a tack of glue
will produce a similar sound; and if the wood of a tree
contains internal shades, even though these are subse
quently covered by entire rings of wood, such a tree will
scarcely ever keep quiet, if there is the lightest air stirring, —
and there are many states of the weather in which the
moving air will lay hold of the top of a tree when not a
breath is felt by one standing by the root. That the groan
ing of the Baddesley tree was produced by a cause of this
description there seems no reason to doubt, for all agreed
that there was no imposture in it; but what the specific
mode of action was, cannot of course be known, any more
than one can account for some of the noises that procure
houses the name of being haunted. A good many years ago
a church in the north groaned most dismally for two Sun
days, and upon examination it was found that a slate had
slipped down and imprisoned a pigeon, which was thus
calling for deliverance, and which had kept itself alive by
eating great part of the materials of a nest.
Estimated along the windings, the unafforested lands
penetrate into the interior to between six and seven miles
along the Boldre or Lymington water, and between five and
six along the Ex or Beaulieu river. Between the rivers, the
projection of the forest approaches within one mile of the
sea, near Sowley pond; and on the east of the Beaulieu
river, it approaches within a mile and a half. The bounda
ries are, however so irregular, that no idea can be formed
of them, except by means of a large plan.

THE NEW FOREST.

301

NORTHERN PURLIEUS.
From Dibden, the quantity of unafforested land, between
the forest property so called, and what we have described
as the natural boundaries of the district, is much smaller
than on the other side. At Dibden, the forest boundary is
between two and three miles from the Southampton Water,
and it extends thence north-west, for about six miles, to
Cadnam bridge, from whence westward it is conterminous
with the county all the way to Downton common, within a
short distance of the Avon, with the exception of a few
patches at Bramshaw. The only parishes here, are Eling
and Bramshaw, and the greater part of the latter is in the
county of Wilts. Eling is a wealthy and populous parish,
the annual value being returned at 13,161/., and the popu
lation at 4632. The appearance of Eling village is quite
that of a little town; and the ships in the creek, in the
middle of a grove of tall trees, have a very singular appear
ance,' — the more so, that no part of the creek in which they
lie can be seen till one comes close upon it. The adjoining
villages of Totton and Rumbridge also contain a considera
ble population ; and there are a good many: straggling
houses along the road to Lyndhurst. The lower portion of
this part is in general rich soil, with a subsoil of strong
clay ; but, toward the New Forest, its character changes,
and it may be said to crop out upon a dreary heath. In
general it is well wooded, and from the abundance of timber
in the surrounding country, it is admirably situated for the
building of small vessels. More attention has been paid to
the planting of timber in Eling, and some of the neigh
bouring parishes, than in almost any other part of Hamp
shire, or indeed than in the royal forests themselves.
Bramshaw can scarcely be described as a Hampshire
parish, as there is only a small stripe along the west side of
it contained in the county ;. but the church and a good
many of the' cottages along the road> are within the boun
dary. The living is in the diocese of Salisbury, and the

302

THE NEW FOREST.

patronage belongs to the Dean and Chapter there. The an
nual value was returned at 2347/., and the population is
about 800.
MANORS AND OTHER HOLDINGS WITHIN THE LIMITS
OF THE FOREST.
These are so spotted about, and so irregular in their
forms, that we can attempt little more than a rude indi
cation of their positions, with regard to each other, and to
the Forest. The principal ones are the manors of Lynd
hurst and Minstead, lying contigious to each other — and
Minstead, which is situated north-west of Lyndhurst, ap
proaches within a mile of the northern boundary of the
Forest at Wittenford bridge, on the confines of Wilts. This
manor is an irregular oval, about three miles in length, and
a mile and half in breadth. It contains the church of
Minstead, a parish which was valued at 2145/., and has a
population of 1074. The living is a rectory, and the
patronage in private hands. The church stands about three
miles north-north-west of the town of Lyndhurst ; and it is
within this parish, though not on the manor but in the
Forest, that the spot is pointed out where William Rufus fell
by the arrow of Tyrrel. This spot is about a mile north
west of the church of Minstead, and rather more than a
furlong to the right of the road from Romsey to Ringwood,
at a mile or a little more on the Ringwood side of Cadnam
bridge. The legend connected with this spot will be men
tioned afterwards.
Lyndhurst manor is of smaller extent and less regular
form than Minstead ; and it occupies very nearly the centre
of the Forest. The figure which it most nearly approximates
is an equilateral triangle, of a mile and three-quarters in the
side ; and perhaps the area does not differ greatly from that
of such a triangle, only the sides are very irregular. The
directions of these sides are north-east, south-east, and west.
A considerable portion of the manor, especially of the west

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THE NEW FOREST. 303
part of it, is taken up by villas, or their parks or grounds ;
the chief of which are Cuffnell's, to the south-west of the
town of Lyndhurst, Fox-lease to the south, and Mount-royal
to the north. These mansions, or villas, are pleasantly
situated ; and the surfaces of their grounds are varied, and
well broken by lawn and wood.
It appears from Doomsday Book, that three hides of this
manor — which hides were probably in great part covered with
wood, were taken into the Forest. The remainder continued
to be held by the descendants of the same Saxon who had
held it in the days of Edward the Confessor. At the same
time Lyndhurst was a royal manor valued at two hides,
of which one hide and three-quarters were taken into the Fo
rest, and the remaining yardland, or quarter of a hide, was
held by the royal forester.
Lyndhurst is the metropolis of the Forest, and has been
so from the time of its first afforestation. In former times
it was, of course, of much more importance than it is now, —
as all the ancient sanguinary laws of the forest, have ceased
since the Revolution of 1688. As it is in what may be
regarded as the principal thoroughfare of the Forest — that
which leads from the north to Lymington, it has some way
faring trade, especially in the summer months ; but while
the environs continue forest, with very few inhabitants, it
never can become a place of much importance. The annual
value was returned at 3285/., and the population in 1831
was 1236, which was an increase of about 66 during the
previous ten years, The principal street of the village, lies
in the direction of east and west, from the Redbridge road
to the King's house, which last is situated near the church,
on the height of the ridge. Another street branches north
from this along the Romsey and Salisbury roads, which con
tinue the same till one arrives at Cadnam, on the borders of
the Forest. Two other roads lead southward, and meet at
the south part of the grounds at the King's house, whence
the single line of road proceeds onward, by Brockenhurst to
Lymington. There are very many other roads which ramify

304 THE NEW FOREST.
from Lyndhurst in different directions; but as they are
Forest roads only, they can be noticed with more advantage
when we come to take a glance at the Forest itself, without
reference to towns, or any species of human structures.
Lyndhurst is a pretty village, certainly ; but the greater part
of the vicinity is poor, and it looks a place out of the world ;
the church is in a commanding situation, but it has not
much claim to attention in respect of its architecture. The
King's house is but a homely 'structure, though it is occupied
by the Lord Warden when he visits the forest, and occa
sionally, though of late years rarely, received a passing
call from Majesty. The only curiosity about it, if curiosity
it can be called, is the hall of Rufus, a very plain apartment,
and certainly not of the same antiquity as the days of that
monarch. In this hall are shown, an ancient stirrup, which
is said to have belonged to Rufus, together with a table
and chair, of very strong but very clumsy workmanship, to
which similar antiquity is assigned. Other than this, there
is little to be seen at Lyndhurst, save the Forest views which
surround it; but, notwithstanding this, if one wishes tho
roughly to examine the Forest, Lyndhurst is unquestionably
the head-quarters to be chosen ; and from it, each day sur
veying a section, and the perambulating of these sections,
will furnish a very complete knowledge of the Forest.
The remaining manors and holdings included within
the perambulation of the Forest, are small as compared
with those now stated. The chief of them are as follows:
Burley manor, within less than a mile of the south-west
corner of the Forest ; Wootten enclosures, on the south bor
der, nearly three miles south-east of Burley; Henshersley
farm, a small patch to the westward of Brockenhurst ; and
the bishop of Winchester's purlieu, about two miles north
west of Beaulieu ; Culverley farm, a little to the eastward of
that of Ipsley farm, on the border of the Forest near Dibden ;
Bartley, a little south-west of Cadnam ; Fritham, another
little patch to the north-west of Minstead; and there are also
some little pieces along the extreme west of the Forest ; but

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THE NEW FOREST. 305
the principal part of them are commons, rather than culti
vated grounds.
But, besides what we have enumerated, there are many
hovels, with minute patches of ground, which have been
taken possession of owing to the indifference of the keepers,
and are now held by prescription. These encroachers are,
generally speaking, persons of very questionable character,
who live most wretched and abandoned lives, and procure
much of their miserable subsistence by plunder ; while they
are ready to enter with eagerness upon any smuggling or plun
dering expedition to which there may be the slightest temp
tation. In former times, we believe that this description
of population was much more abundant than it is now. One
cause of this is the check that has been given to smuggling ;
another is perhaps the greater vigilance of the keepers ; and,
we wish we could confidently add that a third cause is the
encreased morality of the humbler classes of the population.
We sincerely wish, and in part believe this ; but it is a
point upon which it is difficult to come to a firmly estab
lished opinion. According to former reports, persons, not
in a state of absolutely pecuniary destitution, were in the
habit of stealing localities in the forest, which they did by
means of hovels, the parts of which were prepared in other
places, and brought to the forest and erected in the course
of a single night. When once the hovel was erected, and a
fire kindled, the keepers could not eject the tenant without
the formality of a legal process ; and both his ease and his
safety were against his having recourse to that. It was a
trouble for which he realised no particular advantage ; and,
as the persons vfho trespassed upon the forest in this illegal
manner, Were as ready to become murderers as thieves, he
was not safe if he interfered with them. This was a wretched
state of things, certainly, but that it was the state of things
is but too well known. It seems a general law of human
nature, that if man either remains in the wild forest, or re
turns to it, there is no alternative to his being or becoming
a ferocious savage. We quote an anecdote from the faithful
VOL II. RR

306 THE NEW FOREST.
and graphic pen of Gilpin, in which the character of an
abode and family of these forest outcasts is depicted with a
force which no mere writer could impart to a fiction. Gil
pin and a friend had been taking an evening ramble, not in
the royal Forest, but in the delightful woods at Exbury,
the seat of Colonel Mitford. "Among these unknown
woods," says he, "our way became at length perplexed, and
the sun was now set. Having no time, therefore, to lose,
we enquired at a lonely cottage which we found in a shel
tered glade. Nothing could indicate peace and happiness
more than this little sequestered spot, and we expected to
find a neat, peaceful, contented family within. But we
found that a happy scene will not always make happy in
habitants. At the door stood two or three squalid children,
with eager famished countenances staring through matted
hair. On entering the hovel, it was so dark, that we could
at first see nothing. By degrees a scene of misery opened.
We saw other ragged children within, and were soon struck
with a female figure, grovelling, at full length, by the side
of a few embers upon the hearth. Her arms were naked to
her shoulders, and her rags scarce covered her body. On
our speaking to her, she uttered, in return, a mixture of
obscenity and imprecations. We had never seen so deplo
rable a maniac. We had not observed, when we entered,
what now struck us, a man sitting in the corner of the
hovel, with his arms folded, and a look of dejection as if
lost in despair. We asked him who that wretched person
was. ' She is my wife,' said he, with a composed melan
choly ; * and the mother of these children.' He seemed to
be a man of great sensibility, and it struck us what distress
he must feel every evening after his labour, when, instead of
finding a little domestic comfort, he met the misery and
horror of such a house — the total neglect of his little
affairs — his family without any. overseer, brought up in
idleness and dirt — and his wife, for whom he had no means
of providing either assistance or care, lying so wretched an
object always before him. We left him strongly impressed

THE NEW FOREST. 307
with his calamity, which appeared to be a more severe
visitation than the hand of heaven commonly inflicts. We
found afterwards that we had been wholly mistaken, and
that, we had before us a strong instance of that strange
fatality by which mankind are so often themselves the
ministers of those distresses which they are so ready to
ascribe to heaven. On relating our adventure at supper,
we were informed, that the man, whose appearance of sensi
bility had affected us so much, was one of the most hardened,
abandoned, mischievous fellows in the country — that he had
been detected in sheep-stealing — and that he had killed a
neighbour's horse in revenge — and that it was supposed
that he had given his wife, who was infamous likewise, a
blow in a quarrel, which had occasioned her malady."
The several kinds of holdings of the lands within the
perambulation, but not included in the Forest, have some
peculiarities. For the king's venison have, by the original
grants, free range of them ; and the game on them is also
the property of the sovereign. The timber is however the
property of the freeholder ; and the government rights are
not now enforced in the case either of venison or game.
In the manor of Beaulieu there is one peculiarity, the people
there, or at all events the lord of the manor, being entitled
to kill stray deer upon the manor, but not to follow it back
into the Forest. This may have been a pleasant enough
privilege for the abbot and his monks, whose servants had
little else, to do than purvey for their masters ; but now it is
rather a mischievous one, as the people often lose a great
deal of their time in looking out for, or trying to kill or capture,
stray deer. Deer in a wild forest are the game of barba
rous ages ; and it does not appear that the industrious people
of a civilised age can have the slightest connection with
them, without waste of time, deterioration of morals, or both.
The copyholds under the crown are subject to querents
and fines, which are in general moderate ; and matters re
specting them are decided in the manor court-at Lyndhurst,
under the lord warden of the Forest, as lord of that manor
rr 2

308 THE NEW FOREST.
for the time being. The crown is entitled to all the timber
on these copyholds. The leaseholds, of which there is now
a power to increase the number, are held upon such terms
as may be agreed ; — the only old lease of much extent is Fox-
lease at Lyndhurst, already alluded to. The encroachments,
whether made by cottagers in the way mentioned, or by the
neighbouring proprietors, of which there have been several,
are held without any rent or acknowledgment to the crown ;
but means have been taken to prevent any increase of such
encroachments. The forest land is of course the property
of the crown; but it is subject to certain rights of pasturage,
pannage for hogs, and fuel, to the neighbouring proprietors
and their tenants. The abuse, of the fuel part especially, of
these common-rights, used to be very injurious to the
Forest; but they are now better defined, and more tem
perately exercised.
DISTRIBUTION AND APPEARANCE OF THE FOREST.
We have already hinted that the divergent roads from
Lyndhurst are the preferable routes by which to get a com.
plete notion of the Forest in the shortest time, and with the
least labour. The points to which these roads originally
led were the lodges of the several walks into which the
Forest is divided ; and therefore, a knowledge of their dis
tribution is essential at the outset. The whole Forest is
divided into the bailiwicks of Burley, Fritham, Godshill,
Lynwood, Battramsley, South, and the Nodes, Inn, and
North ; and these are subdivided into sixteen walks ; but
two of these are double, which reduces the number to four
teen. The master keepers are appointed to the bailiwicks,
and the under keepers to the walks ; and though some of
the bailiwicks are divided, and some walks are called by
names different from those of the bailiwicks, they corres
pond in extent. Burley forms the walks of Burley and
Holmesley ; Fritham forms Boldrewood and Eyeworth ;
Godshill forms Ashley; Linwood forms Wilverley and Rhine-
field ; South bailiwick forms Lady cross and Whitley ridge ;

THE NEW FOREST. 309
East bailiwick and the Nodes form Denny walk, the Nodes,
and Ashurst ; Inn forms Iron's hill ; and North bailiwick
forms Bramble hill, and Castle-Malwood. The Forest
lands in all these, amount to 63,845 acres, and the lands
held with the lodges amount to about 1193, — making in all
64,038 acres, exclusive of the holdings already mentioned.
Ashley walk forms the extreme north-west of the Forest,
bounded on the south by Broomy, and on the east by Eye-
worth. The lodge of this walk is about eight miles north
west of Lyndhurst, and there is no very direct road all the
way. Eyeworth, which is about the size and shape of Minstead
manor, is bounded on the east by Bramble hill and Castle-
Malwood, on the south-east by Boldrewood, and on the
south-west by Broomy; and there is no very direct road
from Lyndhurst to the lodge here.
Broomy has the hundreds of Fordingbridge and Ringwood
on the west, Burley on the south, and the walks already
mentioned on the north and east; and there is no direct
road leading to the lodge of this, any more than to those for
merly mentioned.
Burley and Holmesley, which form one joint walk, occupy
the south-west of the Forest, having Broomy and Boldre
wood on the north, and Rhinefield and Wilverley on the
east and south-east. The lodge lies in the north-east part
of the walk. It stands in a park of more than four hun
dred and seventy acres, in which there is a considerable
extent of ornamental water, formed by what is called Hitch-
in's water, which is one of the principal branches of the
Boldre. There is a very direct road from Lyndhurst to
Burley lodge, a considerable portion of which is along the
road from Lyndhurst to Christchurch. With the exception
of some small portions of the last-mentioned walk, all those
which we have now noticed have their general slope, and
the courses of their rivers or brooks, toward the west or
south-west ; and they thus naturally form part of the valley
of the Avon. — We shall now return to the north.

310 THE NEW FOREST.
Bramber hill walk, to the east of Eyeworth, occupies the
northern angle toward Bramshaw, and is bounded by Castle-
Malwood on the south.
Castle-Malwood lies to the south of the lasknamed, but
extends much farther eastward; and it is bounded on the
south by Boldrewood and the manor of Minstead. This
and the last-named walk have their inclination toward the
east ; and the stream which discharges itself into the South
ampton Water at Redbridge, after a bold turn to the north,
in the course of which, it passes through the park of Poulton,
has its source in these walks. This is a very interesting
part of the Forest, and contains some of the finest timber.
Boldrewood walk lies to the south-west of Castle-Mal
wood and Minstead, but does not extend quite so far to the
eastward as Lyndhurst. Boldrewood lodge has its enclo
sure about a mile to the north of Burley lodge, and it is,
after that, the largest in the Forest, containing upwards of
180 acres of ground.
Iron's hill, to the eastward of Malwood and Boldrewood,
extends to the north-east boundary of the Forest, and en
closes the manor of Lyndhurst on all sides. The lodge,
which has but a small enclosure, is about two miles to the
north of Lyndhurst, and about half-a-mile to the left of the
road, thence to Redbridge. Rhinefield and Wilverley occu
py the southern part of the forest to the westward of the imme
diate valley of the Boldre. They are accessible by the main
road from Lyndhurst to Lymington. These walks have Bur
ley and Holmesley respectively on the west ; and the boun
dary line, for a great part of the way, coincides with that of
the high road from Lyndhurst to Christchurch.
Whitley ridge walk occupies a portion of the Forest to
the north of Brockenhurst, and all the irregular parts which
are interspersed with the freeholds on the Boldre ; and Lady
cross occupies the western part of Burley heath, and all the
Forest between the Beaulieu river and the Whitley walk,
the centre of which is a naked heath, upon which there are
some barrows ; but the slopes toward the streams, on the

THE NEW FOREST. 311
northern part contain some timber. The slope of Whitley
ridge toward the Boldre is in general well wooded, and inter
spersed with forest lawns.
Denny and the Nodes occupy a long stretch of the
Forest, from within about two miles of Lyndhurst, to the
extreme south-east. On the eastern division of Beaulieu heath
there are considerable tracks of bleak moor in this walk.
Ashurst occupies a triangular portion to the north of
Denny and the east of Iron's hill ; and with it the enumera
tion of the walks closes.
We shall now take a glance, and it can be but a very
passing glance, at the character of the New Forest scenery
along some of the principal routes that diverge from Lynd
hurst. Here we may in general remark, that the Forest pre
sents nothing which impresses one with the idea of that rapid
growth and equally rapid decay, which are characteristic of
vegetation in the humid parts of tropical climates or upon
rich soils which have been forced by artificial culture. Unless
in some cultivated spots, which do not in general obtrude
themselves upon the view, the New Forest bears the stamp
of being a thing of ages, so permanent in its character, that
a man of ordinary life, feels that he would require to be
born and to die ere any change were worked upon it, except
those that accompany the annual vicissitudes of the seasons.
It is true, that wherever a new road or vista has been
opened up, the continuity has been broken, and the injury done
to the singleness and solitude of nature is felt. In such
places, though the terminal trees are more lofty in stature
than where nature is more perfect, they have all the stiffness,
and all the nakedness of a cut hedge ; and the bare boles,
and unfinished branchings and sprays, let one see that the
nakedness of the forest has been uncovered. Not only this,
for its power of resisting the elements has been taken away,
so that along these unnatural and unseemly gashes, the trees
are rent and rifted, and here and there one is uprooted, while
in the natural margins, not a twig is broken.
. Where all is left as nature made it, the forest has no cut

312 THE NEW FOREST.
edge, and no offensive straight line, or formal curve. It
comes down upon the forest-lawn in little points, of
various breadths, and various juttings ; but all melting into
the turf, by side-branch, and sometimes shrub and bush, as
though the wood and the lawn were one. It is true, indeed,
that sometimes a gnarly oak, or hawthorn, will stand out
from one of the salient angles, as if it were a sentinel, in
watch over the sylvan fort, or a watch-tower, from which
the forest hawk can scan the whole extent of the meadow
or the moor.
There is very considerable variety too in this natural
meeting of forest and field. If the meeting is on the most
arid heath, the terminal plants straggle out few and far
between, and of exceedingly diminutive size ; so that one
must walk many yards, in order to get the slightest shade
to the view ; but, in proportion as the open glade becomes
richer in soil, and covered with more verdant herbage, the
margin of the forest rises into more stately masses ; and
when the ultimatum is arrived at, and the boles of the trees
have advanced to the margin of the waters, their feathering
branches are projected over the stream or the pool, and
lave their distal sprays in its tide.
There is a harmony in this — a perfect, though a conti
nually-varying harmony, which is quite unattainable by the
very utmost refinement of human art ; and it is this which
makes a visit to the New Forest so instructive to any one
who wishes to gain a genuine feeling of the beauty of na
tural landscape. The contrasts which we meet with, of
clump and lawn, wood and field, copse and down, in most
parts of England, are too artificial, and too much in a state
of change for having the stability of genuine beauty ; and
when we go to the wilder parts of the country, where rock
and mountain, sweeping stream and sounding cascade,
come in, the simplicity of genuine beauty is gone, and we
behold nature in a mood of excitement.
In this, there is no inconsiderable analogy between the
land and the sea ; but though the tranquil sea is very beau-

THE NEW FOREST. 313
tiful, the sea in storms, and yeasting topmast high upon the
slightest obstacle, is not. But there is this difference : the
tranquil sea is always beautiful, because human art cannot
tamper with and spoil its surface, but it is not so with the
land ; for man produces contrasts there, which are perfectly
out of nature ; and though these may be, and actually are
not only useful but absolutely necessary in art, they never
•can be naturally beautiful.
We offer these few general remarks, merely with refe
rence to the New Forest as a natural sight ; the only sense
in which it can be generally useful to the observant part of
the public, and in which sense it may be said to be perfectly
unique — without a parallel in the country. In most parts
of England, the surface and the soil are too uniform, and in
most places, it may be, too rich, for allowing of that per
fection of natural beauty and harmony which is found in a
district so peculiar as the New Forest, and which has, in
the greater part of its extent, been left to the uncontrolled
operation of nature for so many centuries, — probably, in
many places, since the tertiary formation over the chalk was
first deposited upon it by the action of the waters of some
troubled and turmoiling sea.
In every direction which one can take from central Lynd
hurst to the outskirts of the Forest, — by carriage-drive, by
bridle-road, or by footpath, there is a diversity in each indi
vidually, and yet no two are alike ; and, in order to see all
the beauty of each, one should go and return, for it often
happens in such scenes, that when we take them in review,
all the deformities of the direct view are turned into beauties.
To a visitor from the metropolitan or central parts of the
country, the road by which the advance is made upon
Lyndhurst, is naturally the first one ; and to one who wishes
to obtain correct notions of the whole Forest, it is certainly
better than breaking in by any other route. Here, upon
turning ones back upon the Union Poors' house, and arriving
at the boundary of the Forest, there is room and air enough
to make one lose the recollection of those artificial scenes,
vol. n. ss

314 THE NEW FOREST.
which are apt to rise in suggestion, and spoil, by their formal
presence, the feeling of such a place as this. There are no
trees close to the road for some distance in advance ; and
yet the groups muster so on either hand that they mark the
formalities of Ashurst lodge on the left, and then of Iron's
hill lodge on the right. It is true that the enclosure near
Castick's pond is a little out of keeping ; but then it is so
near the Hunter's inn that one may fancy it not quite in the
Forest ; and then there is very soon metal more attractive
on the left, in the fine indefinite' vista that opens up in the
direction of Pond-head farm. Beyond this, the trees close
in upon the sides of the road, but not in such uniform and
serried array as to tempt any one to fancy that some inter
meddling " Capability " had drilled and driven them there.
The high road, too, keeps any unseemly formality that may
arise here and there in some sort of countenance ; and cer
tainly if there had been a green lane here, it would have
spoiled much of the beauty of the place ; for it would have
been a forest bottom to the path, without genuine forest
sides ; and we are not aware that nature ever made a forest
vista so straight as the road is here, except in some unfor
tunate case, where a mountain whirlwind had rent its way
clear through an artificial plantation of pines, as we once
saw one do on the highlands of Scotland, cracking the
forty-feet sticks by the roots, as though they had been dry
bean-stalks, or rotten hop-poles. Some of the straggling
trees by the way side here, are eminently picturesque as
single studies ; and many of the larger ones are very fine ;
though none of them have anything very remarkable in
their dimensions. They are not, in any place, so closely set
as to appear sickly and spindled ; and they are clumpy, so
as to give one the idea that even the densest tracts of the Fo
rest are interspersed with glades. There is also no "offence
of art," — no temple, obelisk, or fancy gate, to spoil the con-
gruity of this Forest. When Lyndhurst makes its appear
ance, it would be an eye-sore were it not that the high
road leads one to expect something. Perhaps it is not quite

THE NEW FOREST. 315
rustic enough ; but it is redeemed in this way by Mount-
royal, the seat of J. Pulteney,Esq. ; Cuffnel's, of Lady Poore ;
and Fox-lease, of F. W. Powell, Esq. ; which are not exactly
in keeping. Still, they afford the advantage of contrast,
which, to many, is one of the best means of setting off the
beauties of nature; and thus, perhaps, if these contrasts
were wanting, the charms of the forest might be lessened to
many, to whom these spots of art are more agreeable than
the beauties of nature.
There is one other matter which is especially at variance
with good taste, and that is the roots of the felled trees,
which obtrude their dingy discs upon one in so many places.
We know that timber must be had ; but that does not take
off the painful feeling which one who loves the forest has at
the felling of a tree. We must have animal food ; and yet
the bleeding carcases of lambs scattered among the flock
upon a hill-side, would be no very pretty object to look at.
A tree is a living production of nature, as well as an animal,
and it the more claims our sympathy that, if stately, it is a
thing of fifty animal lives, and it can of itself make no effort
to escape from its murderers. In the case of the animal, we
hide the deed of death, and every memorial of it ; and
wherefore not do the same in the case of the tree "? It ought
to be borne in mind, too, that the decaying substance of its
own species is poisonous to a plant as well as to an animal ;
and thus, the carrion of trees — so to speak — which laziness
leaves lumbering here, taints the forest air, and injures
the health of the growing timber. Nor this alone ; for
every root which is left in the ground remains there at the
expense of a self-sown sapling. Thus the felling of the
timber, when done in a slovenly manner, is a double deso
lation — desolation in what it does and what it prevents.
Every root therefore ought to be grubbed up, and the soil
turned until a fresh surface from some depth is exposed;
and then there is at once, and without labour or expense, a
proper soil for the acorn. When one looks at the state of
things, even with the most cursory and casual glance, one
ss 2

316 THE NEW FOREST.
would be tempted to suppose that the superintendents of
this Royal Forest, have all along been selected for their
great ignorance of the economy of trees ; and that they had
all along instructed those under them to do as little work,
and as much mischief in the doing of it, as possible.
Far be it from us to say positively that any such selection has
been made, even at the most distant and depraved period, on
account of the ignorance of the party ; for we believe that
capacity and incapacity have, or at least used to have,
about equal weight in such matters. But there is a very
obvious general principle : — The New Forest is a self-planted
forest, and it has been self-maintained upon the same ground
for a thousand years certainly, and one knows not how much
longer. In these latter times it has fallen off, riot only
much more than it did formerly, but in a much greater ra
tio than the quantity of timber which has been taken from
it for the use of the navy will explain. From this the infe
rence is irresistible — there must have been both spoliation
and mis-management.
Every one knows, at all events, every one connected with
this Forest ought to know, that the keeping of deer in any
numbers in a forest is perfectly incompatible with the fell
ing of timber in the same ; at least perfectly incompatible
with the continuance of the forest, beyond the stock that
may be upon it when the joint means of destruction begin
to operate. The natural function of the deer is nearly the
same as that of the woodman, only the deer destroys the
young plants, and the woodman the grown ones. In this
way, the deer alone is a conservator, by preventing the
growth of superabundant trees, which would waste substance,
keep out the air, and cause untimely death, whereas the
woodman is, in all cases, a destroyer. Why are the heads
of deer furnished with such branching horns, but to keep
them out of the thickness of the forest, at all times save
during that portion of the year when their horns are shed %
But the axe of the woodman, by taking out the best trees,
gives them free range at all times ; and thus not a sapling

THE NEW FOREST. 317
can grow, unless in places which are enclosed. It is but
of late years that enclosing was at all practised in the New
Forest; and the manner in which it is done now is very
questionable, both as to the quantity of timber, and as to its
quality. There is a distinction in the official name which is wor
thy of notice here : the style runs " Woods and Forests "
which clearly shows that they are not things of the same
kind, nor can they be obtained on the same ground in equal
perfection as though they were alone. The gigantic size of
the fossil stag, compared with the preserved stag of modern
times, shows that the animal is not so much in its element
as when untrammeled by artificial circumstances ; and the
people of this country have found to their cost that no arti
ficially-bred timber can at all come up to the produce of the
self-maintaining forest. Therefore, if they will have deer
in the New Forest, they have no business to grumble about
the timber ; and if they will have timber, for the most valua
ble description of which the New Forest is probably better
adapted than any other spot in the British Islands, let them
dispatch the deer as speedily as possible — send them to
some park, where timber is merely grown for ornament, and
where any rubbish that can be planted at such a size as
soon to be safe from deer, and which will grow fast enough
for scenic purposes, is all that is necessary. Deer we admit
are handsome animals ; but so are tigers and leopards ; and
in a cultivated country, the one are just as much out of
congruity and keeping as the others.
Having mentioned some of the Carnivora, we may mention
that the smaller species of these animals are most essential
to the safety of a forest ; and without them and large num
bers of them, there is no security for the success of extensive
plantations. Every one must have heard of the plague of
mice in the forest of Dean, and how speedily they killed the
young trees by tens of thousands. Now, we rather suspect
that these animals, — the Viverridce we specially allude to —
though the wild cat is a glorious mouser, and most efficient

318 THE NEW FOREST.
against the plague of rabbits ; — we rather suspect that there
is a deficiency of these animals ; for keepers kill vermin by
instinct, and it is questionable whether the under-keepers
here have yet forgotten the whole of the practices which
they learned while permitted to spoil the Forest with rab
bits. — Such are some of the reflections that naturally arise
in suggestion, when one contemplates the New Forest; and
it is better to let them come, on the way from the entrance
to Lyndhurst, so that ones observation and enjoyment may
not be interrupted by them afterwards.
When Lyndhurst is arrived at, which is over an open
lawn or moor, after one has cleared the wood, and with a
beautiful Forest opening on the right, across the Lyndhurst
race-ground in the direction of Minstead, — when this is
done, what route shall be taken across the Forest, must
depend upon the time and object of the party. Our limits
forbid even the briefest glance at more than one or two,
and we shall take the high roads, though these have some
degree of sameness, and are not in themselves natural parts
of the Forest.
If the high road from Lyndhurst to Cadnam is not the
most beautiful it is the one nearest the entrance, and that
which leads the most conveniently to one of those sections
of the Forest which we mentioned. This road, and that to
the boundary ' of the Forest at Brockenhurst bridge, are
nearly of the same length — about three miles and a half
each, but this gets one perhaps more immediately into
Forest ground.
For the first mile and a half there is not much timber im
mediately on the road ; but on the right, the lobes of Forest
come down very finely upon the north-eastern margin of
the race-course lawn ; and the opening on the left, along
the high moor, southward of Minstead, is also very pleasant.
At the end of this distance the road plunges into the thick
trees of Malwood walk. The varied level of the ground
prevents the dull length of it from being seen at once, not
withstanding its straightness ; but the successive distances

THE NEW FOREST. 319
which present themselves are just, one formal notch in the
wood after another ; so that this, though through a thickly
Wooded part of the Forest, is one of the dullest roads in it.
The road to Brokenhurst is also provokingly straight ; but
Whitby wood is not quite so formal in its outlines; and
then, when one gets clear of it on the left, within about three-
quarters-of-a-mile of the bridge, and peeps round to the
left, there is a gallant scene : a forest lawn of fine form,
ample size, and fresher herbage than is usually met with in
these parts ; and the advanced and retired outlines of the
Forest make their own distances, while those which swell
and crowd, mass upon mass, toward the Boldre, seem to
stand sentinels at the gate of plenty. It is well that no
view-hunter's portfolio will hold this scene ; and thus every
visitor has it new and fresh ; but keep " eyes left " till you
are dazzled — you will not soon be tired; for, before you
is Brokenhurst, and though it is well enough in its way,
yet — exit the Forest.
Upon arriving at Cadnam, if observation within the Forest
is the subject, it is best to turn sharp to the left, and take
the road to Ringwood. The first part of this road, that is
about two miles and a quarter to the Inn at Stoney Cross,
is a place of sights. First, there is the Cadnam or Caden-
ham oak, which used to be remarkable for the miracle of
spreading its buds on the morning of Christmas day, and
causing them to wither after that solemn day was over. But,
somehow or other, the alteration of the style has deprived the
Cadnam oak of its miraculous power : — in other words, the
monks of ancient times, to serve their own purposes, had
taught the rustics to stick this tree all over with buds forced
by artificial heat, upon the night preceding old Christmas,
which of course withered in the course of the day ; and the
rustics, for the sake of eclat and pence, kept up the deception
as long as they could. The next subject of observation is
Castle Malwood, which stands on the left-hand of the road,
about a mile and a quarter from Cadnam. It is an old fort,
approaching to a square form, and of considerable extent,

320 THE NEW FOREST.
with the old rampart covered with trees, and the lodge of
the walk upon what has once been the pretorium or keep.
It has only a single vallum, and has never been a place of
great strength. It is situated on a knoll, and therefore,
though little is known of its history, it does not appear to
be of Roman origin. At a little distance on the road, and to
ward the right-hand, a pleasant little dell opens in the woods,
which are here in great part composed of beech. This is
the spot where stood the oak from which tradition says the
arrow of Tyrrel glanced when it killed William Rufus. This
oak mouldered away about the middle of last century, and Lord
Delawarre set up in its place a triangular stone, recording on
its three sides, the mode of William's death on the second of
August ; the removal of his body, on the cart of Purkiss the
charcoal burner ; and the erection of the stone by his lord
ship, in 1745. But the stone has been a far more frail memo
rial than the oak, for it has been sadly mutilated ; and is
now as silent, on all points of history, as the quondam tree.
We have no room to enter into the merits of this very unsettled
point of history ; but we have great doubts whether any well-
intentioned subject could direct an arrow in such a moment,
as that it would glance from a tree, and wounded a monarch
to the heart. It would be rather difficult to do this even with
a bullet, unless that bullet glanced at a very small angle ;
and if an arrow is deflected, even a«iittle from its course, its
velocity is in great part destroyed. Therefore the glance
must have been so slight, that it would be very difficult to
say whether Tyrrel aimed more directly at the tree or at
Rufus. Upon physical grounds we doubt the possibility of
death by the glanced arrow, and we challenge the best
nerved and practical Taxophilite in England to the experi
mental proof: and let him show that he can drive his glanced
arrow from a tree through an ordinary canvas target. On
the other hand, we have every reason to believe that there
were, among the religeuse, whom William restrained in their
rapacity, many who would have been anxious to get rid of
him by any means ; and the evidence that Tyrrel was bribed

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THE NEW FOREST. 321
by Alanus, for Anselm the legate, to murder his sovereign ;
as Alanus afterwards spoke of the deed in terms of approba
tion. We have no wish to cloke the tyranny of William Rufus.
any more than we had to cloke that of his father, when we
endeavoured to show that his conduct in the New Forest has
been grossly misrepresented by the monkish libellers. We
believe that William partook of that fiery and tyrannical dis
position, which was so common in his days, that it was de
grading to be without it; but we suspect, if his history
could be brought fairly out, it would be found that Rufus was
a high-spirited sovereign ; and, notwithstanding his French
wars and their expense, did something to free his subjects,
both from the thraldom of the church, and from that abject
slavery in which the bondsmen were kept by the Saxons.
It is worthy of mention, that some of the more cautious of
the monkish historians merely say that the arrow of Tyrrel
was " untowardly " directed ; and that the one who gives the
most circumstantial account of the whole matter is Knygh-
ton; who also gives the most extravagantly exaggerated
account of the churches destroyed by the Conqueror in the
New Forest. One farther instance of this disposition to ex
aggerate, is given by Hennyngforde, as quoted in Grafton's
Chronicle. He says, that a Saxon church stood upon the
spot where Rufus was killed, and that William pulled down
this church in order to enlarge his chase. Now this spot is
within a mile of the northern boundary of the Forest ; and
the only manor which is mentioned in Doomsday book as
then existing in those parts is Minstead, which is just about
another mile into the Forest ; and, as we have already said.
William left the arable land in the meadow, with the former
pannage for hogs, in the hands of the same Saxon family
who held it before the Conquest ; therefore, it is perfectly
absurd to suppose that William would have reserved a manor
in one of the best places of the Forest, and destroyed a
church within one mile of the boundary. The same Saxon
family held the manors of Bistern and Avon, to the south
of Ringwood ; and it appears that they were allowed three-
VOL. II. tt

322

THE NEW FOREST.

fourths of a hide free of tax, in consideration of the parts of
Minstead and Bistern taken into the Forest. But the Nor
man Williams were sadly belied, and belied because they
made a most rapacious clergy disgorge a little, and at the same
time tried to inspire dignity of character into the great body
of the people. As we have already said, we offer no opinion
upon either point ; but both the physical and the metaphy
sical evidence are strong that Rufus fell by the hand of an
assassin set on by the churchmen ; and this too for what
would have been called patriotism had it happened in mo
dern times. Our view of these ancient matters cannot how
ever be purer than the medium through which it is seen. ,
In pursuing this road, there are several triangular tours
which may be made to Lyndhurst. First, a little beyond
Stoney cross, near a place where there are several lawns on
the height, one may turn to the left, and reach Lyndhurst
after a tour of between eight and nine miles. The path here
is for the most part upon open ground, with only scattered
clumps of stunted trees ; but it is not without its beauties.
Secondly, one can pr5ceed about two miles farther, through
a diversified surface of moor and dale, and return by Boldre
wood lodge. This part is much more thickly wooded.
Thirdly, one. may proceed between three and four miles far
ther to Picked post, the greater part of which way is along
an open moor, though with clumps of wood in the distance,
except to the south-west and south, where there is an as
semblage of singular round knolls. Taking the sharpest
turn to the left, at the post, one can return by Burley lodge
to Lyndhurst, along a winding road rather more than seven
miles long. The first part of this road is along the open
moors ; but, after about three miles, it is wooded the whole
way ; and, as all the principal branches of the Boldre have
to be crossed upon this return, perhaps it is one of the rich
est lines in the Forest. It is worth while to turn aside at
Burley and examine the grounds ; and the eminences all
along the line command fine views. What we have noticed
form but a small portion of the tours which may be made

THE NEW FOREST. 323
within the Forest so as to return to the same point ; but
our limits forbid the insertion of any more ; neither can we
notice single trees or any other detached objects.
FOREST ANIMALS.
The only animals of the New Forest, which we have
either necessity or room to particularize as having anything
peculiar about them, are the horses and the hogs. It has
been supposed that both of these animals are of different
breeds from those met with in any other parts of England,
that the horses have Spanish blood in them, obtained by
some unknown import from that country, and that the hogs
were crossed by wild boars obtained from the forests of Ger.
many by King Charles — or somebody else. In the case of
supposed Spanish blood in horses, it is usual to have recourse
to wrecked ships of the Armada, as a general means of in
troduction, but we believe this is not resorted to in the case
of the, New Forest. As the Britons appear to have had
horses long before Caesar's invasion, it is highly probable
that the original horses of England belonged to the south
ern distribution of horses, and not to the northern ; and the
form of the head in the New Forest horse certainly has
more resemblance to the Arab than the Calmuc, and these
are considered as the typical races. It is probable that,
generally speaking, the southern horses were the first
brought to the west of Europe ; as it does not appear that
either the valley of the Danube, or the country between the
Carpathian ¦ mountains and the Baltic was, in those early
days, very practicable for the transit of horses.
The New Forest horses are, or at least used to be, in a
semi-wild state; and some of them absolutely ownerless.
These are of small size, and somewhat shaggy appearance ;
but they are firmly knit, have much strength and spirit, and
are remarkably sure-footed. Those which are property be
long mostly to such as have right of common in the Forest ;
and they shift for themselves there summer and winter, re
sorting to the furze in severe weather, and they stamp it
tt 2

324 THE NEW FOREST.
with the fore-foot before they attempt its mastication. This
teaches a lesson which mankind fancy they have found out
for themselves in other parts of the country. In furzy places,
the tops of furze, well beaten with a mallet, are found to be
excellent winter feed for horses ; and those natives of the
New Forest resort to the same.
These horses are allowed to shift for themselves in their
early years ; and, generally speaking, their owners are too
poor, or have too little consideration, for allowing them thus
to range until they attain their maturity, which is at the age
of seven or eight years. At this age, they are difficult to
break; but when this is once accomplished, they are very
docile, and remarkable for strength, speed, and longevity.
Various anecdotes have been told of individuals thus matured
in the forest, which we have no room to mention, but we
have no doubt of their authenticity, because it is in perfect
accordance with the general analogy of nature, which is, that
you never can tamper with either animal or plant, by artifici
al training and tending in its young years, without breaking
in upon its constitution. The reason is obvious: nature
knows the whole character and competency of the species
in all its systems, and works to them all equally ; man knows
but in part, and therefore he necessarily improves one pro
perty at the expense of another.
The superiority of these horses, when properly attended to,
and the fact that horses are far less injurious in a forest
than deer, or any other ruminant animals, suggest an idea
which is not unworthy the consideration of those more imme
diately concerned. — The commonage of the forest, whether
for horses, hogs, or any other animals, is, like some other
privileges granted in the dark times, of very questionable
value to those who enjoy it. It is this upon principle, and
the principle is justified by the fact. The principle is, that
advantages which people enjoy gratis, over and above what
is enjoyed by others of their class, induce laziness, and
therefore do harm instead of good ; and the fact is, that the
persons who enjoy these New Forest privileges, are among

THE NEW FOREST. 325
the most wretched and most worthless in the whole king
dom. Therefore, in kindness to the parties themselves, the
sooner that such privileges are put an end to the better. Banish
deer and hogs, and all other animals, that have right of
common, and turn the forage of the entire Forest into a
breeding-ground for horses. Say that it would require twenty
acres for each horse, there is still keep for 3000 ; and allow
ing them to be seven years old before they are disposed of,
there would be between 400 and 500 to dispose of annually,
and with proper attention these would be worth at least 20/.
each, which would bring to the public treasury above 5000/.
a year, not only without great deterioration of the timber, but
with great advantage to it ; and this annual return of the
horses would be worth at least twice of the whole live stock
at present in the Forest. This would be a something to the
public purse, though only a something. That the public
however would gain is only a small item of the advantage ;
for those who required, would be able to command horses
of the most efficient description, and capable of subsisting at
the smallest cost, in the very prime of their age, and when
they would be far more efficient for labour than horses which
are forced and prematurely brought to maket, in the present
hot-house style. The New Forest affords by far the most
eligible ground in England for an establishment of this
kind ; but there are many other parts of the country where
it could be supplied with very great advantage.
With regard to the New Forest hogs, we have not much
faith in the report that Charles I introduced German wild
boars into this Forest, though the Forest hogs have certainly
more resemblance to wild hogs, than the hogs which one
meets with in the other parts of the country. As is the case
with the wild boar, the strength of the forest hog, especially
the male, is thrown chiefly upon the fore part of the animal ;
while in the bred hog, the object has been to throw more of
the weight of the animal upon the hams, as being the more
valuable joints in a mercantile point of view. The shoulders
of these hogs are remarkably broad and firm, and the neck

326 THE NEW FOREST.
and shoulders have an erectable mane of long bristles. The
ears are short and stand up, and the colour is in general dark,
brindled, or black. The hinder parts of the animal are com
paratively slender, and there is an elasticity about the whole
appearance of it, very different from the uniform heaviness,
fore and aft, of a sluggish hog of the stye. It is also a more
sportive, and a far braver animal, than the hog of a cham
pagne country, and few dogs unless they are trained to it, will
venture to go in upon a New Forest boar. At the same time,
these hogs are not vicious ; and, like all the order of animals
to which they belong, they never begin an attack unless they
apprehend danger, and seldom till they are actually attacked.
The characters which we have now mentioned, certainly
show that the animal has been in part brought back to its
natural appearance and disposition, and we may presume
that the chief cause of this has been the placing of it more
nearly in its natural circumstances and situation than can be
the case with its co-species, in the cultivated parts of the
country. The natural food of the hog is roots, at least at
those times when the trees shower down no fruit ; and as
the fruit of most forest trees falls along with the leaves only,
the hog has to nozzle for these as well as for roots ; therefore
it is that his strength naturally concentrates upon the ante
rior part of his body. In his ordinary feeding, he does not
require to move fast ; and when play, or fear, or anger, sets
him a scampering, it is always at a gallop.
In the New Forest there are, or at least there used to be,
three different sorts of hogs, in treatment, if not in variety.
The first are the pannage hogs, which are understood to be
there only for a limited time ; the second, are the hogs of
the under keepers, which go habitually in the Forest, but
have some attention paid them ; and the third are a sort of
wild hogs, which are left to themselves, and captured when
they are best got hold of, and are in tolerable condition.
The parts of the Forest which are best adapted for the
pasturage of hogs, are those in which the beech predomi
nates ; and though there are beeches in many parts of the

THE NEW FOREST 327
Forest, Boldre wood walk is the region in which they are
most abundant. Beech-mast is equally valuable for feeding
deer as for feeding hogs, and therefore venison obtained
from that walk, after the mast begins to fall, which is about
the end of September, is held in high estimation. In speak
ing of beech-mast and pannage, we feel disposed, for the mast
season at least, to exempt the porkers. Horses do not eat
beech-mast or acorns, and hogs do no harm to Forest trees,
at that season when they subsist upon mast and acorns.
Therefore, there is no particular objection to the admission
of hogs, during the pannage weeks ; but upon the whole it
would probably be an advantage. Be that as it may, the
pannage hogs are admitted into the wood, which we have
mentioned, and also into various other parts of the Forest,
though this is understood to be the favourite part. The
Forest appears to have been free to the thanes and border
ers, in the time of the Saxons, and there is no evidence that
any part of the freedom was taken away by William. Those
who have this right, have to pay yearly a trifling guerdon
in the Steward's court at Lyndhurst, bearing some proportion
to the number for which they have a right ; and this being
done, the pannage month, which is six weeks from about the
end of September, is insured. " Gurth " the swineherd is
then in requisition ; and though the name of his office does
not sound so respectably as some others, the office itself re
quires a little pratice. He first selects a convenient spot,
where there is plenty of food and water, forms a rude stye
of the dimensions he thinks he shall require, and then goes
in quest of the herd. These he collects from the different
borderers who have the right, and he drives his motley herd
toward the' habitation which is prepared for them ; and he
takes especial care that a hearty supper shall be provided
for the grunting travellers, so that they may know and like
their inn. This repast consists of acorns and beech-mast,
the former of which from the peculiar nature of their rinds
are greatly preferred by the grunting strangers. A long
journey and a hearty supper send hogs of all denominations

328 THE NEW FOREST.
very speedily to sleep ; and therefore the pannage hogs are
speedily locked in the arms of Morpheus, and doze out the
night most comfortably upon their general couch of dry leaves,
or straw, or fern, as may happen. Next morning, they have
the remains of the supper for breakfast, with water from the
pool, or stream, the way to which is led by the swineherd ;
and when evening comes, he causes a shower of mast, and
acorns to be rained upon them, he blowing his horn the
while ; and after supper and tattoo, they again go to sleep.
Next morning, they are breakfasted to the sound of the horn ;
and they get a little liberty in the course of the day; but
they come home at night in very regular order, and after the
second day, they are in general completely trained, though
the training is assisted by the introduction of an old pannage
hog as leader to every section of the herd. After this break
ing in, they come and go regularly at the stated hours, and
may be summoned at any time by the horn ; and when, as
sometimes happens, acorns and mast do not fall in requisite
quantity, the horn brings them to a full meal which has
been prepared for them by their governor. Such is the mode
of managing pannage hogs in the New Forest, and such it
has been for many years. If the swineherd is a man of
talent in his way, the hogs are turned out in excellent con
dition, and very little more expense fits them for the market ;
though the sentimental will perhaps regret, that this enjoy
ment, even in the case of hogs, should be so soon followed
by the operation of the knife. This particular time of the
year, is the grand feast of the porkers ; and such of them as
summer and winter it in the Forest, do not upon the whole
fare so well. In this too there is another consideration.
The hogs during the acorn and mast season, that is the
pannage month, do harm to nothing in the Forest ; for one
may rest assured that while they can find abundance of such
fruits as those of the oak and the beech, they will never
fatigue their noses by deforming the ground, or ploughing
up a single root ; and this is the chief reason why no sound
objection can be taken to pannage hogs in the Forest.

THE NEW FOREST. 329
Those hogs which subsist in the Forest for the whole year
round, have a somewhat harder life, and they do a little
more mischief, as they must betake themselves to turning
over the ground in quest of roots, when the season affords
them no other species of nourishment. They however, unless
they are artificially assisted after the fall of the trees is ex
hausted, fare much worse than the hogs of which we have
been speaking ; and it might probably be better, that none
of these perennial hogs were permitted in the Forest.
The third sort of hogs are those which are abandoned to the
Forest, and are left to die or live as they may, when the
ground is sealed up by frost, and little remains on the surface
for such an animal. . To tolerate them is, in our opinion, a
species of most gratuitous cruelty, and the sooner they are
expelled the Forest the better. In proportion as the hogs
approximate the condition of these absolutely neglected ones,
they depart from the form of what is accounted a valuable
hog by the breeders of these animals ; and therefore, the hogs
which are habitually kept in the Forest, whether with some
attention, or in a state of utter neglect, are the least valuable
of the whole, and therefore the ones with which it would be
most desirable to dispense. Besides, they are very generally
speaking the property of the under keepers, and it is desirable
that they should not be breeders of hogs. One of the greatest
mischiefs of the Forest has indeed been the paying of such
parties as these out of some part of the property or produce
of the Forest, to be taken at their own hands, and this we
are sorry to say, has a very great tendency, not only to make
them bad servants to the public, but to undermine their
honesty. It is especially desirable that no servant of the
public should have his remuneration out of that part of the
public property of which he has the charge ; and it is still
more desirable that he should neither have the permission
nor the power to do this at his own instigation.
OFFICERS OF THE NEW FOREST.
A simple enumeration of these will be all that is neces-
VOL II. uu

330 THE NEW FOREST.
sary here ; for, whatever they may have been in former times,
the most honorable offices, at least those which have the
most sounding names, and have attracted men of the most
lofty stations, are now little better than empty titles. This
might be expected, inasmuch as that which formed the ori
ginal value of the Forest has now become a matter of com
parative insignificance — namely, the driving of the deer with
hound and horn within the limits of the same. Kings and
queens, in these our times, have got other occupations ; and
when such a spectacle as a stag-hunt is got up, the animal
is brought to the ground in a litter as if he were an invalid ;
and the obtaining of such deer as are obtained from the
royal forests — and the numbers are not very great, is a sort
of brigand matter, the animals being most ignobly laid in
wait for and shot from behind a cover, as if the keeper were
a poacher of the lowest class, — to so low a pass has " the
noble art of Venerie " come in these our degenerate times — ¦
albeit the hunters of yore had no venison equal in flavour
and healthfulness to our Southdown mutton.
The chief officer of the Forest is the lord warden, who is
appointed by letters-patent during the royal pleasure. In
virtue of his patent he holds the manor of Lyndhurst, and
hundred of Redbridge, with the office of keeper of the decoy
ponds ; and his emoluments are the possession of the King's
house at Lyndhurst, the herbage, pannage, and rents of the
free tenants, with 70/. a year for repair of the house, amount
ing in all nominally to the sum of 214/. Another patent
officer is the riding forester, whose office is to ride before the
sovereign when in the Forest, for which he receives 500/.,
and a buck and doe annually from the Forest; a third par
tent officer is the woodward, who has charge of the timber
cut down for the use of the Navy. He has 200/. for him
self, besides a salary for a deputy, and some perquisites.
There are several officers appointed by the lord warden,
the most honourable of which is understood to be the bow-
bearer, who attends the sovereign whenever it is the royal
pleasure to shoot deer with bow and arrows, which it is the

THE NEW FOREST.

331

business of this officer to supply : 40 shillings a year, with
a buck and doe, are the guerdon of this once important
officer. The high steward is appointed by the lord warden,
from whom he receives an annual guerdon of 51., but he has
literally nothing to do. The under steward is also appoint
ed by the lord warden. He is generally a lawyer, holds
the Courts Leet and Baron, and is paid by the parties. The
master, the groom keepers, the keeper of the decoy ponds,
and also the rangers of the Forest, are appointed by the
warden : these last have small salaries, and a buck and doe
yearly each.
Some officers of the Forest are chosen by the freeholders
of the County. Of these are the verderers, wrho are judges
of the Swanimote and Attachment Courts. They have a
guerdon of a buck and doe yearly. The regarders are also
chosen by the County. They see that the trees to be felled
are properly marked, value the timber for sale, and attend
the sales, for which they receive half-a-crown a day, when on
duty. The under keepers are, we believe, appointed by the
master keepers ; and their emoluments had wont to be
derived chiefly from plundering timber, and from rabbits and
hogs ; but, we believe, the objectional parts are now a little
better than they had wont to be.
Besides these officers, there is a purveyor of wood for the
Navy ; and a deputy surveyor of Woods and Forests, appoint
ed by the surveyor-general ; and we believe that his various
emoluments, which were admirably calculated for the old-
fashioned purpose of jobbing, are now converted into an
annual salary of about 3000/. a year ; but what he ^does in
return for this sum of money, seems to be a problem of
which there is no apparent solution. — Such are the officers
of the New Forest, — a most curious compound of the anti
quated, and the unnecessary.
That the ground occupied by the New Forest ever could,
at least in great part of its extent, be profitably brought
under culture, is a very questionable matter ; and as it is of
importance that a country, where warlike marine is the
uu 2

332 THE NEW FOREST.
strong tower of its defence, and whose mercantile marine is
1 one of the main sources of its wealth, should always pos
sess within itself a good supply of this timber, which experi
ence shows is better and more durable, if grown in England,
than in any other part of the world, with the exception of
the teak (Tectona grandis) of India, there cannot be a bet
ter national use of the district in question than keeping
it as a forest, and paying more constant and more scientific
attention to the growth of timber than has hitherto been
done. In former times, spoliation and robbing have gone
so far, that it will probably be long before the Forest, even
with the best management, shall be what it may and might
have been ; but still, the sooner that this reformation is set
about the better. The first thing to be done, is to ascer
tain, by well conducted experiments, whether any one of the
different varieties of oaks which are met with in the Forest
combines, in a more perfect degree than the others, the two
essential qualities of free growth and resistance of dry-rot ;
another subject of inquiry is, whether there is any circum
stance connected with the present mode of endeavouring
to produce timber, which tends to deteriorate its quality ; and
a third is, whether any of the other species of timber trees,
which are certainly invading the oaks in many parts of the
Forest, do any injury to the growth or the timber of the said
oaks. We are inclined to think that the whole pine fa
mily, and perhaps also the beeches, have some pernicious
effect in this way ; but the point can be settled only by fair
and well-conducted experiment.

END OF VOL. II.

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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