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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c172e9e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52058 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52058) diff --git a/old/52058-0.txt b/old/52058-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c3e6ae7..0000000 --- a/old/52058-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6127 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Isle of Wight, by A. R. Hope Moncrieff - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Isle of Wight - -Author: A. R. Hope Moncrieff - -Illustrator: Alfred Heaton Cooper - -Release Date: May 13, 2016 [EBook #52058] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ISLE OF WIGHT *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - [Illustration: THE NEEDLES] - - - - - ISLE OF WIGHT - - PAINTED BY - - A. HEATON COOPER - - DESCRIBED BY - - A. R. HOPE MONCRIEFF - - [Illustration: colophon] - - LONDON - - ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK - - 1908 - - - - -Contents - - -CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE ISLAND 1 - - II. RYDE 19 - - III. NEWPORT 33 - - IV. THE EAST SIDE 54 - - V. THE UNDERCLIFF 77 - - VI. THE BACK OF THE ISLAND 92 - - VII. FRESHWATER AND THE NEEDLES 104 - -VIII. YARMOUTH 119 - - IX. COWES 139 - - X. THE GATES OF THE ISLAND 154 - - - - -List of Illustrations - - -1. The Needles _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - -2. Ryde--Moonrise 20 - -3. Newchurch--the Mother Church of Ryde 24 - -4. Newport 34 - -5. Carisbrooke Castle 40 - -6. Godshill 50 - -7. Water Meadows of the Yar near Alverstone 58 - -8. Sandown Bay 60 - -9. Shanklin Village--Moonlight after rain 72 - -10. Shanklin Chine 74 - -11. Bonchurch Old Church near Ventnor 84 - -12. The Landslip near Ventnor 86 - -13. The Undercliff near Ventnor 90 - -14. Blackgang Chine 96 - -15. Shorwell 100 - -16. Farringford House 106 - -17. Freshwater Bay 112 - -18. Totland Bay 118 - -19. Yarmouth 120 - -20. Shalfleet 124 - -21. Calbourne 138 - -22. Yachting at Cowes 144 - -23. Osborne House 148 - -24. Whippingham Church 152 - -_Map at end of volume_ - - - - -ISLE OF WIGHT - - - - -THE ISLAND - - -_The_ Island, as its people are in the way of styling it, while not -going so far as to deny existence to the adjacent islands of Great -Britain and Ireland--the Wight, as it is sometimes called by old -writers--has for the first fact in its history that it was not always an -island. It once made a promontory of Dorset, cut off from the mainland -by a channel, whose rush of encountering tides seems still wearing away -the shores so as to broaden a passage of half a dozen miles at the most, -narrowed to about a mile between the long spit of Hurst and the -north-western corner of the Island. It may be that what is now a strait -has been the estuary of a great river, flooding itself into the sea, -which, like Hengist and Horsa, is apt to prove an invading ally -difficult to get rid of. _Wight_ is taken to represent an old British -name for the channel, that, by monkish Latinists, came to be christened -_pelagus solvens_; but the Solent may have had rather some etymological -kinship with the Solway. - -The Channel Island, as thus its full style imports, has a natural -history of singular interest to geologists, who find here a wide range -of fossiliferous strata, from the Upper Eocene to the Wealden clay, so -exposed that one scientific authority admiringly declares how it “might -have been cut out by nature for a geological model illustrative of the -principles of stratification.” Perhaps the general reader may thank a -writer for not enlarging on this head; but a few words must be said -about the geological structure that shapes this Island’s scenery, -forming, as it were, a sort of abridged and compressed edition of no -small part of England. It divides itself into three zones, which may be -traced in the same order upon the Isle of Purbeck in Dorset. Through the -centre runs a backbone of chalk Downs, a few hundred feet high and an -hour’s walk across at the broadest, narrowing towards either end to -crumble into the sea at the white cliffs of Culver and of the Needles. -To the south of this come beds of sand and marl, through which the chalk -again bulges out in isolated masses on the south coast to top the -highest crests of the Island, resting on such an unstable foundation -that extensive landslips here have thrown the architecture of nature -into picturesque ruin. The north side in general is tamer, a plain of -clays dotted by gravel, better wooded than the rest, though much of its -old timber has gone into the wooden walls of England, once kept in -repair at Portsmouth. - -Across these zones of length, the Island is cut into two almost equal -parts by its chief river, the Medina, cleaving the central Downs near -Newport; and through gaps at either end flow two smaller rivers bearing -the same name of Yar, which seems to call Celtic cousinship with the -Garonne of France. For the Medina, as for the Medway, some such -derivation as the _Mid_ stream has been naturally suggested; but with -the fear of Dr Bradley upon me, I would pass lightly over the quaking -bog of place nomenclature. These three rivers have the peculiarity of -flowing almost right across the Island, a course so short that they may -well take their time about it. The other streams are of little -importance, except in the way of scenery. On the north side they form -shallow branching creeks which get from as much as they give to the sea, -that at high tide bears brown sails far inland among trees and hedges. -On the south, wearing their way down through the elevated shore line, -they carve out those abrupt chasms known as Chines, celebrated among the -beauty spots of this coast. The richest valley seems to be that of the -larger Yar, which turns into the sea at the north-east corner. The parts -most rich in natural charms are the south-eastern corner, with its -overgrown landslips, and the fissured chalk cliffs of the western -promontory beyond Freshwater. - -All that variety of soil and surface is packed together into a roughly -rhomboidal shape, 23 miles long by 13 or 14 miles at the broadest, about -the size of Greater London, or say 1/36000 part of the habitable globe. -Within its circumference of 60 miles or so, this space of some 96,000 -square acres holds a population of 82,000, beside innumerable transient -visitors. A pundit of figures has taken the trouble to calculate that -all the population of the world could find standing room in the Island -on the foot of four to the square yard, if the human race agreed on -spending a Bank Holiday here; but then little room might be left for -donkey-rides or switch-back railways. While we are on the head of -statistics, it may be mentioned that several scores of guide-books to -the Isle of Wight have been published, from Sir Henry Englefield’s noble -folio to the small brochures issued by hotels, these works containing on -an average 206,732 words, mostly superfluous in many cases; that 810,427 -picture post-cards or thereabouts pass annually through the post-offices -of the island; that, in ordinary seasons, it sits to 1723 cameras; that -the hotel-bills annually paid in it would, if tacked together, reach -from St Petersburg to Yokohama, or if pasted over one another, make a -pile as high as the new War Office; and that 11.059 per cent. of the -newly married couples of Brixton, Balham, Upper Tooting, etc., are in -each year estimated to spend at least part of their honeymoon here, who -come back to confirm a prevailing belief that in no other part of the -British Isles does the moon shine so sweetly; while, indeed, a not quite -clearly ascertained proportion of them live to assert that the scenery -of the Island and the happiness of the marriage state have alike been -more or less overrated. I give these figures for what they are worth, -along with the unquestioned fact that the Isle of Wight belongs, in a -manner, to the county of Hants, but has a County Council of its own, and -in general maintains a very insular attitude of independence, modelled -on the proud bearing of Great Britain towards mere continental -countries. - -Facts and figures somewhat fail one who comes to lecture on the original -population of this Island. The opinion fondly held in a certain section -of “smart” society, that the lawn of the Squadron at Cowes represents -the Garden of Eden, seems to rest upon no critical authority; indeed -Adam and Eve, as owners of no yacht, would not be qualified for -admission to this select enclosure. With some confidence we may state -that the Island was first peopled by aborigines enjoying no protection -against kidnappers and conquerors, who themselves found it difficult in -the long run to blackball undesirable aliens, as Australia and New -Zealand try to do under the protection of fleets steaming forth from the -Solent. There are well-marked indications of invasion by a Belgic tribe -from the mainland, to make this a “free” state, as early prelude to King -Leopold’s civilisation of the Congo. But we may pass lightly over the -Celtic period, with place-names and pit-dwellings as its records, to -come into clearer historic light with Vespasian’s conquest in A.D. 43. - -For more than three centuries, with apparently one episode of revolt, -the Romans held Vectis, as they called it; and it has been maintained, -though this goes not unquestioned, that here was their _Ictis_ port, at -which they shipped the tin drawn from the mines of Cornwall. If so, the -island described by Diodorus Siculus was then an island only at high -water. The clearest marks left by Rome are the remains of villas -unearthed at different points, at least one of which indicates a tenant -of luxurious habits and tastes. We can understand how Italian exiles -might prefer this station to one in the bleak wilds of Derbyshire or -Northumberland, as an Anglo-Indian official of to-day thinks himself -lucky to have his compound at Poona or Bangalore, if not at Mahableshwar -or Simla. The Brading villa, indeed, like those of Bignor in Sussex and -Brough in Norfolk, seems rather to have been the settled home of a rich -nobleman, Roman or Romanised British, who had perhaps strong opinions as -to the way in which Rome neglected the wishes and interests of her -colonies. These remains were unearthed only in living memory, so that -writers of a century ago ignore such traces of Roman occupation. - -Next came northern pirates, who would be not so much interested in the -mild climate of the Island, as in the creeks and landing-places of its -shores. They, too, have left relics of their occupation, chiefly in the -graves furnished with utensils and ornaments of heathen life. But when -Jutes and Saxons had destroyed the Roman civilisation, they fell under -another influence spread from the Mediterranean. Bishop Wilfred of -Selsey has the credit of planting, or replanting, Christianity in the -Island. It could hardly have taken deep root, when the Danes came to -ravage the monastic settlements. For a time the Cross and the Raven must -have struggled for mastery here like the encountering tides of Solent, -till that new wave of invaders ebbed back or was absorbed into the old -one; then again the Island became overflowed by a fresh storm of -conquest. If we consider from how many races, in three continents, the -Roman soldiery were drawn, and how the northmen must have mixed their -blood with that of a miscellany of captives, it is clear that, when -overrun by a fresh cross-breed between Gauls and Vikings, the population -of our islands, large and small, could in many parts have been no very -pure stock, such as is fondly imagined by the pride of modern -Pan-Celticism and Anglo-Saxondom. - -In Norman England, the Wight soon emerges into note. King William -visited it to seize his ambitious brother Odo at Carisbrooke. The -fortress there was enlarged by William Fitz-Osborne, to whom the Island -had been granted, and who salved his conscience for any high-handed acts -of conquest by giving six churches to the Norman Abbey of Lira, the -beginning of a close connection with that continental foundation. His -son lost this lordship through treason; then for two centuries it was in -the hands of the Redvers, Earls of Devon, who grew to be -quasi-independent princes. The last of their line was Isabella de -Fortibus, holding her head high as Lady of the Island till on her -deathbed, her children being dead, she sold her rights to Edward I. for -6000 marks. - -Henceforth this dependency was governed for the crown through -lieutenants at first known as Wardens, an office held by great names -like Edward III. in his childhood, the Earl of Salisbury, the Duke of -York, the Duke of Gloucester, Anthony Woodvile, Earl of Rivers; and in -such hands more than once showing a tendency to become hereditary. Their -post was no sinecure, for at this period the Island made a striking -point for French raids that have left their mark on its towns. Not that -the raiding was all on one side. The islanders long remembered ruefully -how Sir Edward Woodvile led the flower of their manhood into France, -when of more than four hundred fighters only one boy escaped to tell the -tale of their destruction, that seems to have been wrought by French -artillery, turning the tables on the English long-bow. - -The weak Henry VI. had crowned young Henry Beauchamp, Duke of Warwick, -as “King of the Isle of Wight.” Politic Henry VII., for his part, saw -well to restrain the power and dignity of those Island deputies, now -styled Captains. In the Tudor time, three Captains came to note, Sir -Richard Worsley as carrying out the reformation policy of Henry VIII., -Sir Edward Horsey, as a doughty soldier of fortune, who is said to have -begun his career with a plot to betray the Island to the French, but on -coming into this office kept a sharp eye both on foreign enemies and on -his private interests, doing a bit of piracy for his own hand, if all -stories be true; then Sir George Carey, who had the anxious task of -defence against the Spanish Armada. When that peril went to pieces, the -Island at last began to enjoy a period of secure prosperity, testified -to by the fact that most of its old houses, mansion or cottage, appear -to date from Elizabeth or James. Yet so late as 1627, soon after the -captaincy of Lord Southampton, Shakespeare’s patron, it got a scare from -a Dutch fleet, taken for Spaniards. - -New confusion came with the Civil War, in which the Wight people were -mostly on the parliament’s side, while the leading gentry stood for the -king. The best-known episode of the Island’s history is Charles I.’s -imprisonment at Carisbrooke, which may be passed over here to be dealt -with more fully _in loco._ The Isle of Wight might well back up the -parliament; as then and till the Reform Bill it sent six members, an -over-representation now reduced to one, and formerly, indeed, apt to be -qualified by official interference with freedom of election. - -In Charles II.’s “golden age of the coward, the bigot and the slave,” -the governorship of the Island was given to Lord Colepeper, who made -himself obnoxious here, and got a wider field of domination in -Virginia, where also he seems to have been unbeloved. His huge colonial -grants passed by marriage of his daughter to Lord Fairfax, whose eldest -son settled on his American property, said to extend over five million -acres, giving up the English estates to his younger brother. This was -clearly hint for Thackeray’s story of the Virginian Warringtons. Only -the other day the heir of this family, America’s sole peer, became -naturalised afresh in England, after his title had been laid up in -lavender, or tobacco, for several generations. Another personage in _The -Virginians_, General Webb, held the governorship of the Island for a few -years. But now the Captains, or Governors as they came to be styled, had -little to do which could not be done by deputy, while the post was worth -holding by men of high rank, as by the Dukes of Bolton and Montague -under George II., when its salary was £1500 a year. - -Under them the Island was happy enough to have little history, though it -had again to be on its guard when Dutch admirals talked of sweeping the -English ships from the Channel. It saw William’s fleet sail by on the -way to Torbay; and two years later it seemed about to have from its -southern cliffs the spectacle of a hundred French sail engaging the -English and Dutch squadrons; but the scene of that encounter was shifted -to Beachy Head, where it ended in a manner not much dwelt upon in our -naval annals. Then the long struggle with Napoleon once more turned this -outpost of England into a camp. In the peaceful days that followed, the -governorship became a mere ceremonial function. The title, held by -Prince Henry of Battenberg, was passed on to his widow, the youngest -daughter of Queen Victoria, whose death at Osborne makes the last date -in this Island chronicle. - -An insulated people naturally formed a race apart, speaking a marked -dialect, and cherishing a strong local feeling. Their situation, and the -once pressing need to stand on defence by land and sea, bred a sturdy -race, whose vigour in old days was apt to run to such enterprising ways -of life as piracy, wrecking, and smuggling; but all that may be -forgotten like scandal about Queen Elizabeth. One evil of the islanders -keeping so much to themselves has been a stagnation of population, that -through intermarriage made for degeneracy. Sir John Oglander, the Stuart -worthy whose jottings on his contemporaries prove so amusing, says that -the Island once bore the reproach of not producing a good horse, a wise -man, or a pretty woman; but he hastens to add _Tempora mutant_; and on -the last head, the stranger can judge the calumny for himself. Hassell, -an eighteenth century tourist, remarks for his part on the beauty and -even elegance of the farmers’ daughters at Newport market, while of the -fathers he hints at grog-blossoms as a too common feature. The lately -published memoirs of Captain Elers treat the former point as matter of -notoriety. A certain boisterous pertness noted in the male youth of the -Island has been referred by sociologists to an absence of birch in its -flora. All ages have been noted for a clannishness that was once -disposed to look askance on such “overners” or “overers” as found their -way into the Wight, whose own stock we see to have sprung from -immigrants of different breeds. But here, as elsewhere, schools, -newspapers, and facilities of travel are fast rubbing down the -prejudices of parish patriotism. - -The upper class, indeed, is now largely made up of well-to-do strangers -drawn to the Island by its various amenities; while the sons of the soil -have laid aside suspicious dislike of the outsiders whom they know as -profitable guests. From pictorial cards, valentines, and such vulgar -documents, they appear to bear the nickname of Isle of Wight “Calves,” -which may be taken as a sub-species of the “Hampshire Hogs,” who suffer -such neighbourly satire as is shown in by-words like “Norfolk -Dumplings,” “Lincolnshire Yellow-bellies,” or “Wiltshire Moonrakers.” -Some strangers, however, at the height of the season, have been more -inclined to find for the natives a zoological similitude in the order of -_Raptores_. “I do not mean,” as a precise old gentleman once explained -to me of his landlady, “that she has feathers and claws like a bird; but -I assert that, in character and in disposition, she resembles a -vulture.” It is often, indeed, made evident to the meanest capacity that -the Island hosts belong to a long-billed family; but they perhaps as -often as not may be classed as overners, or referred to the hydra-like -form of polyzoic organism popularly known as a Company, Limited. - -The soil is well cultivated, and many of the farms look thriving, though -the rank hedges and the flowers that colour some of the pastures, spread -a more pleasing view for an idle stranger than for a practical -cultivator. The Downs support flocks as well as golf clubs; the breed of -Island sheep was highly esteemed of old, where the climate makes for -early lambing. When some parts were overrun with “conies,” Sir E. Horsey -had the name of bringing in hares, which he paid for at the rate of a -lamb a-piece; but foxes and badgers have not crossed the Solent. - -The coast folk carry on amphibious business, from oyster beds to -ship-chandling. Ship-building at Cowes, and cement-making on the Medina, -are the only large industries I know of. The chief trade seems to be in -tourists, who are taxed, tolled, and touted for at every turn by the -purveyors of entertainment for man and beast, the managers of -excursions, and the enclosers of natural curiosities. Visitors come from -far and near, the Island making a holiday resort for the townsfolk of -Portsmouth and Southampton, while among foreign tourists, it seems to -have a special attraction for Germans; and some of the American -travellers who “do” Europe in three weeks are known to spend as much as -several hours in scampering across to Ventnor. - -A good many visitors, however, come for a considerable time, delicate or -luxurious folk, lucky enough to be able to take advantage of a milder -climate in our uncertain winter or still more treacherous spring. One -must not indeed expect too much of any British climate. About Torquay, -the chief rival of Ventnor as a sheltered resort, a well-known novelist, -after living there through many winters, says bluntly that it is a -little less cold than the rest of England. Such places are apt to bid -for patronage by statistics of sunshine, temperature, and so forth, -which may prove bamboozling, not to say deceptive, when it is difficult -to tabulate the occurrence of trying extremes under the changes and -chances of our fickle sky. The best test of climate is its general -effect on vegetation; and it may be said with truth that the Isle of -Wight, on the whole, is two or three weeks ahead of inland districts of -our country. But it cannot claim to be such a halcyon spot as the -dream-world of another poet, who knew it well in all weathers. - - The island-valley of Avilion, - Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, - Nor any wind blows loudly, but it lies - Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns - And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea. - -There is snow here, sometimes, and rain pretty often; while wind makes -for the islanders as touchy a point as the title “Lady of Snows” for -Canada; but in fact, being an island, this nook must take the -consequences of such a situation, swept by breezes from all quarters, -especially from the south-west. The north and east sides of course are -more exposed to bracing winds, and their resorts, from Cowes to Sandown, -come into favour rather in the summer season, that fills the sails of -yachts and pleasure-boats, as well as greases the wheels of coaches -cruising upon land excursions. The “Back of the Island” is more stormed -upon by Atlantic gales, while one half of it, the famous Undercliff, is -so snugly shut in to the north, as to make a winter garden of myrtles, -fuchsias, arbutus, and still rarer evergreenery. Here, perhaps, it was -that a Miss Malaprop complained of this Island as not “embracing” -enough, and got advice to try then the Isle of Man. - -As to the best time for a visit, that depends partly on which aspect of -the Island is to be sought, not to say on circumstances and opportunity; -but to my mind it wears its fairest face in its dullest season, when its -hotel-keepers see cause to take their own holiday. Then, in early -summer, flocks of sheep-like tourists miss seeing at their freshest and -richest the clumps of umbrageous foliage, the hedgerows and copses sweet -with gay blossoms, the turfy slopes spangled with wild flowers, the -glowing meadows, the blooming cottage plots, the “weeds of glorious -feature,” and in short, all the charms that make this one of “the -gardens of England,” in which, exclaims Oliver Wendell Holmes, -“everything grows with such a lavish extravagance of greenery that it -seems as if it must bankrupt the soil before autumn.” It is better -visited in spring, which comes so early up this way, that Easter as well -as Whitsuntide holiday-makers may catch the first flush of one of those -nooks described by Dr Bromfield in his _Flora Vectensis_--“a blooming -wilderness of primroses, wood-anemones, violets, and a hundred other -lovely and fragrant things, overtopped by the taller and purple-stained -wood-spurge, early purple orchis, and the pointed hoods of the -spotted-leaved wake-robin; the daisy-besprinkled track leading us -upward, skirted by mossy fern-clad banks on one hand, and by shelving -thickets on the other, profusely overshadowed by ivy-arched oak and ash, -the graceful birch, and varnished holly.” Then still sooner may be -looked for the spangling of the sheltered Undercliff, where, as Miss -Sewell describes: “The ground is tossed about in every direction, and -huge rocks lie scattered upon it. But thorns and chestnuts and ash-trees -have sprung up amongst them upon the greensward; ivy has climbed up the -ledges of the jagged cliffs; primroses cluster upon the banks; cowslips -glitter on the turf; and masses of hyacinths may be seen in glades, half -hidden by the foliage of the thick trees, through which the jutting -masses of grey rock peep out upon the open sea, sparkling with silver -and blue some hundreds of feet beneath them.” - -Old books frequently dwell on what was once a drawback, the difficulty -of getting to the Island--the getting away from which is more apparent -to one class of his present Majesty’s subjects, housed here at -Parkhurst, much against their will. Piers and steamboats have now made -it as accessible as the Isle of Thanet, and more often visited than the -Isle of Dogs. There are half-a-dozen routes from London, through the -three opposite ports of Portsmouth, Southampton, and Lymington, not to -speak of Southsea and Stokes Bay. The Portsmouth route comes into -closest touch with the Island’s own railways, made up of several local -enterprises, amalgamated into the two systems styled the Isle of Wight -Railway, and the Isle of Wight Central Railway. Of these lines the Rev. -Mr Chadband would be bound to say that they are perhaps the worst, the -dearest, and the most provoking in the country; to which their -shareholders could reply only by a groan worthy of Mr Stiggins, while a -want of mutual connection and convenience may be referred to relations -like those of Messrs Jorkins and Spenlow. From their exactions it is the -hasty stranger that suffers most, the inhabitants being better versed in -devices of season-tickets, parliamentary fares, and other mitigations of -a tariff, by which, for example, it costs sixpence to go from one end of -Ryde Pier to the other, and half-a-crown or so for the dozen miles’ trip -across the Island. - -But if the visitor grudge such charges, he will find plenty of -competition in the excursion coaches that gape for him as soon as he -gets off Ryde Pier, or the motor ’buses that hence ply in several -directions. For his own wheel there are excellent roads, as well as -others; and to see the best of the Island, he does well if he can avail -himself of that oldest and cheapest conveyance known to merry hearts as -“Shanks’ mare.” It is on this footing, chiefly, that I have wandered -about the Isle of Wight, through which I am now to conduct the gentle -reader on a rambling and gossiping tour in his own arm-chair. - - - - -RYDE - - -We need not cast about for the spot at which to make our landing on the -shores of Wight. Lying opposite Portsmouth, with a crossing of -half-an-hour or so, Ryde is the chief gateway of the Island and knot of -its railways to every part, Cowes being more in touch with Southampton, -and Yarmouth at the west end coming closest to the mainland port of -Lymington. With its suburbs and dependencies, Ryde is considerably the -largest place, having outgrown Newport, the titular capital, by a -population largely made up of retired veterans, families of officers on -service, and other select society such as one finds thickly settled at -Southsea, across the Solent. So much one can guess from the look of the -brick villas that spread over the swelling heights of Ryde’s background, -and of the smart shops in and about its Union Street, while an unusual -proportion of hotels and refreshment rooms hint at influx of transient -visitors both from the classes and the masses. - -A century ago, this could be described in a local guide-book as a “place -of some consequence.” Only since then has Ryde become the goodly town -we now see, yet it is no mushroom resort, but old enough to have been -burned by French assailants under Richard II. The sheltered anchorage -behind the Isle of Wight was once too well known to wind-bound -travellers, who might have to fret here for weeks or months, as Leigh -Hunt, on his voyage to Italy, spent half a year at Plymouth. So -Fielding, sailing to die at Lisbon, was detained at Ryde, which seems -then to have been little more than a hamlet. No tea could be got there; -it had a butcher, but he was not “killing”; and though the inn at which -the travellers put up could supply a long bill, its other accommodations -were such that they preferred to take their dinner in the barn. The -landing of a helpless invalid proved a trying adventure where, “between -the sea and the shore, there was at low water an impassable gulf, if I -may so call it, of deep mud, which could neither be traversed by walking -nor swimming, so that for near one half of the twenty-four hours, Ryde -was inaccessible by friend or foe.” In spite of such disadvantages, the -dying novelist has nothing but good to say of it, once he had got over -its moat of mud. - - This pleasant village is situated on a gentle ascent from the - water, whence it affords that charming prospect I have above - described. Its soil is a gravel, which, assisted with its - declivity, preserves it always so dry, that immediately after the - most violent rain, a fine lady may walk without wetting her silken - shoes. The fertility of the place is apparent from its - extraordinary verdure, and it is so shaded with large and - flourishing elms, that its narrow lanes are a - -[Illustration: RYDE--MOONRISE] - - natural grove or walk, which in the regularity of its plantation - vies with the power of art, and in its wanton exuberancy greatly - exceeds it. In a field, in the ascent of this hill, about a quarter - of a mile from the sea, stands a neat little chapel. It is very - small, but adequate to the number of inhabitants: for the parish - doth not seem to contain above thirty houses. - -Marryat also speaks of the muddy shore, over which voyagers had often to -be carried ashore pickaback or in a horse and cart, as was the way of -landing at Buenos Ayres till not so long ago. But he saw the -construction of its pier, one of the earliest pleasure piers in England, -that made a great difference to Ryde; and for a time it shot up into -more note and fashion as a seaside resort than it enjoys now among so -many rivals. A hint of that palmy time is given by some dignified old -mansions about the town, which, during the last half century or so, has -looked for quantity as much as quality in its visitors. - -At the present day, the bed of mud has been overlaid by a coat of sand, -taken advantage of for bathing facilities still too dependent on the -tide, ebbing out beyond an unfinished pier that serves as a swimming -bath at certain hours. By means of groynes, the sand is now being coaxed -to gather less thinly on the shore, where a battery of bathing machines -stands in position. Else Ryde is no very good bathing place; nor, -exposed to cold winds, does it invite invalids like the other side of -the Island. Its interests have been rather in yachting and boating; and -its frequenters those who relish a breezy marine flavour in life. -August, gay with regattas, is the great time for this Solent shore. The -broad pier, 2000 feet long, sets the tide at defiance, carrying out both -a railway and a tramway to meet the steamers that land holiday crowds as -well as passengers for all parts of the Island. For the amusement of -youthful visitors a canoeing lake has been made in the gardens, behind -the sea-wall running eastwards, with its fine view of Spithead and the -chequered forts islanded in the Solent. - -It was off this Esplanade that in 1782 went down the _Royal George_, one -of our finest men-of-war, upset by a land breeze when heeled over safely -enough, as was supposed, in calm weather. The story goes that a -pig-headed officer of the watch would not attend to the carpenter’s -report that she was filling; then naval discipline cost the loss of -seven hundred lives. Great numbers of bodies came ashore at Ryde, to be -buried under what is now a trim promenade. Others found a resting-place -in Portsea Churchyard, where a monument to their memory stands under the -noble tower of the new Church, so well seen from the railway as it -enters Portsmouth. The catastrophe is best remembered by Cowper’s -epitaph, “Toll for the Brave!” and by the narrative in Marryat’s _Poor -Jack_. Less well known are Sir Henry Englefield’s lines, written when -the graves could still be seen near the shore. - - “Thou! who dost tread this smooth and verdant mead, - Viewing delighted the fair hills that rise - On either hand, a sylvan theatre; - While in the front with snowy pinions closed, - And thunders silent, Britain’s guardian fleet - On the deep bosom of the azure sea - Reposes aweful--pass not heedless by - These mould’ring heaps, which the blue spiry grass - Scarce guards from mingling with the common earth. - Mark! in how many a melancholy rank. - The graves are marshall’d--Dost thou know the fate - Disastrous, of their tenants? Hushed the winds, - And smooth the billows, when an unseen hand - Smote the great ship, and rift her massy beams: - She reeled and sunk.--Over her swarming decks - The flashing wave in horrid whirlpool rushed; - While from a thousand throats, one wailing shriek - Burst--and was heard no more. - Then day by day, - The ebbing tide left frequent on the sand, - The livid corpse; and his o’erloaded net - The shuddering fisher loathed to drag ashore. - And here, by friends unknown, unmarked, unwept, - They rest.”[1] - -Another event in Ryde’s history was the landing here of the Empress of -the French after Sedan. Her escape from Paris had been conducted by Dr -Evans, the American dentist; then from Deauville, Sir John Burgoyne -brought her across in his yacht through such stormy weather, that it had -almost been forced to put back into some French port. At sunrise, a Ryde -hotel close to the pier turned away two travel-worn ladies accompanied -by a gentleman, who found refuge in the York Hotel. So the unfortunate -Empress, with her small suite, could at last rest in peace. The first -thing she did, Dr Evans tells us, was to seek comfort in a Bible that, -by chance as she supposed, lay in the small top room given to this -_incognita_. Charles X. on his final exile, had also made for the Isle -of Wight, arriving off Cowes, but he does not seem to have landed there. - -On the approach by sea, Ryde presents an attractive aspect, displayed as -it is upon a hillside, with its steeply sloping streets, its conspicuous -spires, and its fringe of handsome villas embowered in rich woods that -enclose the town on either side. The most prominent landmark is the -far-seen steeple of the parish Church in the upper part of the town, -built after designs of Sir G. G. Scott, and ornamented with a fine show -of modern art. Beside this stands the Town Hall, beyond which another -church combines a Strawberry Hill Gothic effect, with a light colouring -that at first sight suggests Oriental associations: it might do for a -chapel to the Brighton Pavilion. Ryde has its fair allowance of churches -and chapels of all denominations; but we need not look here for ancient -dignity or picturesqueness, even the parish churches of such modern -resorts as - -[Illustration: NEWCHURCH--THE MOTHER CHURCH OF RYDE] - -Ryde or Ventnor having been originally chapels of ease to some now -obscure metropolis inland. Georgian solidity or Early Victorian stucco -are the highest notes of antiquity in this smart and cheerful town, -which at the last census, taking in its outskirts, counted 18,000 -inhabitants. - -Church architecture, it may be said, is not the strongest point of the -Island; though several of its churches have interesting remnants of -Norman work; and I have heard of one native claiming for his parish -steeple an unrecorded antiquity of more than 1600 years, in proof of -which he showed the figures 1620 still legible on the fabric. One of the -most notable ecclesiastical antiquities, Quarr Abbey, lies a pleasant -couple of miles’ walk westward from Ryde. The way is by the adjoining -parish of Binstead, with its modern Church preserving some fragments of -the old one, originally built by the Abbot of Quarr, “because he would -not have all his tenants and the inhabitants of Binstead come to trouble -the Abbey Church.” A gravelled path and a lovers’ lane through a series -of oak copses, giving peeps of the mainland coast, bring one in view of -Quarr Abbey, whose ivied ruins are now to be restored. The name Quarr or -Quarraria is said to come from the Binstead quarries of Upper Eocene -limestone, that figures largely in Winchester Cathedral. The abbey was -founded in the middle of the twelfth century by Baldwin de Redvers, in -fulfilment of a vow made during his banishment for taking Maud’s part -against Stephen, after which his head was lifted up again, so that he -became Lord of the Island and Earl of Devon. He was the first to be -buried here, as later were other persons of note, among them the Lady -Cicely, second daughter of Edward IV., who had married a gentleman of -the Island. Among the numerous traditions attached to the abbey, there -is one that connects a wood called Eleanor’s Grove with the queen of -Henry II., said to have been imprisoned here. - -This was the second Cistercian house established in England, which -before long absorbed so much of the Island, that the Abbot of Quarr -became a petty prince. “Happy was that gentleman that could get his son -to attend upon him,” says Oglander: such offices as treasurer, steward, -chief butler, and rent-gatherer of the abbey being sought by the cadets -of the chief families. But after the Dissolution it soon fell into -decay, monuments and all being sold; and in the beginning of the -seventeenth century, Sir John Oglander found that the very site of the -church had already been forgotten by old men, even by one who remembered -the days of its glory. At this time it had been bought for £3000 by Mr -Fleming, descendant of the Dutch mason brought over from the Low Country -by the founder to carry out the work. “Such,” moralises the knight, “is -the inconstancy of Fortune, which, with the aid of her servant Time, -pulleth down great things and setteth up poor things.” - -Since then, the outlines have been more carefully uncovered, or traced, -including part of a wall with which, by license of Edward III., this -abbey was fortified against the attacks of sea-rovers, and of the French -invaders who often assailed the Island. Among the old monuments recorded -by Oglander was one to a “great Monsieur of France” slain here in -Richard II.’s reign. The structure, of which some interesting fragments -remain, was in part adapted as farm buildings, the refectory turned into -a barn. But Quarr has now been bought by the community of French -Benedictines that some years ago crossed the Channel to Appuldurcombe on -the southern downs of the Island; and it is understood that they propose -to restore the abbey as a congenial home. A swarm of nuns of the same -Order has lately settled at Ryde, after a temporary residence at -Northwood, near Cowes. Carisbrooke houses other foreign _religieux_, who -have also a school at Ventnor. Thus the whirligig of time brings about -its revenges, heretic England giving sanctuary to the churchmen of -Catholic France. - -From Quarr Abbey, one can stroll on to Fishbourne at the mouth of a -creek called the Wootton River, which, a mile or so up, at Wootton -Bridge is crossed by the road from Ryde to Cowes, passing presently -behind the grounds of Osborne. Wootton is another of the oldest Wight -churches, still preserving some features of the time when it was built -by one of the Lisle family (_De l’Ile_) who took their name from this -Island, and gave it to Dame Alice Lisle, the victim of Judge Jeffrey’s -bloody assize. Holding on up the wooded bottom of Wootton River, one -reaches the village of Haven Street, from which an hour’s walk leads -back to the southern outskirts of Ryde, where all but the name of St -John’s Park is now overspread by brick and stone. The way by road gives -a fair notion of the Island scenery on this side; and might be very -pleasantly extended by lanes and field-paths, copses and commons, -seaming and roughening the three mile belt between the sea and the Chalk -Downs to the south. - -But the many rambles that may be taken here-abouts are the business of -guide-books; and the high-roads leading out of Ryde need not be pointed -out to its crews of coach excursionists, and to passengers on the motor -omnibuses that start here for different parts of the Island, some faring -as far as Shanklin and Blackgang Chine. For the present let us leave -roads and railways, to stroll along the shore to Seaview, which, at the -north-eastern corner, makes a sort of chapel of ease to Ryde, as -Paignton to Torquay or Westgate to Margate. - -This gives another very pleasant hour’s walk, to be taken along the -sea-wall that continues Ryde’s Esplanade. On the land side the way is -much shut in by park woods and castellated villas, but it has an open -view over the Solent, across which at night gleam the myriad lights of -Portsmouth and Southsea; daylight shows this strait enlivened by all -kinds of shipping, and often glorified by the spectacle of a British -fleet, as sometimes by international naval encounters in peace and -courtesy. Our modern ships of war may make a more impressive display, -yet no longer such a picturesque one as when a century ago one visitor -could tell how he saw the whole Channel filled by a convoy, several -hundreds strong, so that “the blue waters in the distance were almost -hidden by the snow-white cloud of sails.” The pictorial place of these -sails, indeed, is often taken by the racing yachts, which run all to -sail; and “a sail is one of the most beautiful things which man ever -invented!” So exclaims Mr George A. B. Dewar, whose “Pageant of the Sea” -papers in the _Saturday Review_ give us Turneresque pictures of this -landlocked waterway:-- - - In autumn the sea and landscapes of the Isle of Wight, towards - evening and in very still weather, seem to belong to some enchanted - country. The hills of the Island, seen from the water, grow utterly - unsubstantial then. They turn dove-coloured, and so soft and light - in their appearance that they might, to a stranger to the place, - pass for clouds on the horizon. The sea, with the mild sun on it, - is emerald; and the band of colour that adjoins it to the north, - given by the wooded shores of Hamble and Southampton Water, is a - splendid purple. At other times, on an autumn evening like this, - but with some imperceptible difference in the atmosphere, the faint - outlines of hills far beyond Portsmouth and its land forts, have - the peculiar appearance of being partly covered with a thin coating - of stained snow. Every shade of blue and green touches these waters - between mainland and island in early autumn as in summer, often - changing with a changing sky from minute to minute.... Not all the - illusions of this sea are kept for the hush of sundown and the - shade of coming night. The sea blooms of the Solent, films and - hazes, at all seasons glorify and mystify every ship they touch, - clumsy coal barge, harbour-dredger, graceful racing yacht. - -More than half-way on our path starts up Puckpool or Spring Vale, a row -of seaside lodgings nestling under the protection of a fort that makes a -link in Portsmouth’s fortified _enceinte_. Here the shallow shore -spreads at low water a wide stretch of sand, so firm that horses as well -as children can disport themselves upon it; and it seems as if the -nearest fort could almost be reached on wheels. The path holds on by a -strip of meadowland; and thus we come to Seaview, that has overlaid the -old name of Nettlestone Point. - -Seaview, indeed, was first Seagrove before it became a flourishing -family bathing-place, with the unusual setting of woods so close down to -the water’s edge that one may lie in a boat and hear the nightingale -almost overhead; but these groves tantalise the landlubber by a crop of -forbidding notices to trespassers. It has a chain pier of its own, and a -regular service of steamboats from Southsea, that run on to Bembridge. -This pier, with the hotel behind, splits the place into two separate -sections, marked by their architecture as belonging to different strata -of pleasure-seeking. The part nearer Ryde is the true old Seaview of -wandering rows, bow-windowed lodging-houses, and modest refreshment -rooms. On the east side of the bay has sprung up a newer, smarter, -redder bit of esplanade, making a pretty contrast to its dark green -background. A private road leads to this end, which, else, at high tide -is cut off, so that the butcher or greengrocer may be seen delivering -his wares by boat in quite Venetian manner. There are sands for -children, and rocks for scrambling, and a shallow beach for launching -canoes on these safe waters, where the red sails of the Bembridge Yacht -Club make dots of colour, as do the tents here taking the place of -bathing-machines. Another peculiar feature is the diving-boards anchored -out at sea, since the tide, creeping up to the Esplanade garden gates, -woos paddlers rather than swimmers. Seaview, in short, holds itself -something out of the common in the way of bathing-places, dealing with -strangers rather in the wholesale way of house-letting than the retail -trade of apartments. - -Beyond the broken point, where one seems to catch Nature in her -workshop, kneading clay into firmer forms, a rough walk along the shore -of Priory Bay leads on to St Helen’s, reached inland by the road through -Nettlestone Green. Once clear of houses, we plunge among the rank -greenery of the Island, too much monopolised here by the grounds of the -Priory, which preserves the name of a colony of monks swarmed over from -France to St Helen’s in early Plantagenet days. This was one of the -properties bought by Emmanuel Badd, who, _teste_ Sir John Oglander, -began life as a poor shoemaker’s apprentice at Newport, “but by God’s -blessinge and ye loss of 5 wyfes, he grewe very ritch,” rose to be High -Sheriff of Hants, and was buried under an epitaph in Jacobean taste, -ending - - So good a Bad doth this same grave contain, - Would all like Bad were that with us remain! - -But at St Helen’s we have rounded the corner of the Island, which we may -now survey from another line of operations. - - - - -NEWPORT - - -Before holding on by road, rail, or boat along the coast, let us take a -course through the centre of the Island, on which we can pay due respect -to its capital. From Ryde, Cowes, and Freshwater run railways that meet -at Newport, where the Medina begins to be navigable, and thence go off -branches to Ventnor and Sandown. This junction, then, makes the -radiating point of the Isle of Wight’s communications; and all its main -roads converge at Newport, which, though not quite so large as Ryde, and -not so well recruited by strangers, is a flourishing place of over -10,000 people. - -One sees at once that this is no _ville de plaisance_, but the home of -all sorts and conditions of men, taking toll on the country round by -varied industry. Roman origin has been claimed for it on hint of the -straight streets and crossings that give it a more regular aspect than -most country towns, shading off indeed on the skirts into wandering -lanes and rising outgrowths of the “Mount Pleasant” order. A peculiar -feature is the little Quay quarter, where the Lugley stream from -Carisbrooke comes in to make the Medina navigable for small vessels -freighted with timber, coals, malt, wheat, and so forth. But the tidal -river below Newport adorns the landscape only at high water, being too -often a broad ribbon of slime creeping between low banks, not beautified -by the big cement works lower down, that get their raw material in mud -as well as chalk. More picturesque are the Chalk Downs, on the other -side embracing the town with their green shoulders and quarried faces. - -The central cross-way is marked by a memorial to Queen Victoria. Close -by, too narrowly shut up in its square, stands St Thomas’s Church, whose -stately tower and high roof pitch makes the boss of Newport from all -points of view. This is little more than half a century old, taking the -place of the ancient shrine dedicated to the memory of St Thomas à -Becket, which was rather unwarrantably pulled down, that “holy blissful -martyr’s” dedication being at the same time usurped by Thomas the -Apostle, a saint more congenial to our age. Some of its old treasures -are preserved in the present structure, notably the Charles I. pulpit, -carved with personifications of Justice and Mercy, the Three Graces, the -Four Cardinal Virtues, and the Seven Liberal Arts, among which a goat -marks the name of the artist, Thomas Caper. Another antiquity is the -monument to Sir Edward Horsey, Captain of the Island, 1565-82, showing -his canopied effigy in armour with an epitaph attributing to him, after -the manner of such, more virtues than he gets credit for in history. -The - -[Illustration: NEWPORT] - -most beautiful monument is a modern one by Baron Marochetti, to -commemorate Princess Elizabeth, Charles I.’s deformed and sickly -daughter, buried in the old church 1650; but her tomb had been forgotten -till the accidental discovery of the coffin in 1793. She is represented -as found dead by her attendants, according to tradition, with her face -resting on the pages of an open Bible, the gift of her father; and a -happy touch of symbolism shows the iron bars of her life broken by -death. Along with this monument, Queen Victoria contributed two memorial -windows and a medallion of the Prince Consort by the same sculptor. - -There is no room for a churchyard in St Thomas’s Square; but across -South Street will be found the old cemetery, close packed with graves. -One, seen from the path leading along it, hints at a story too common a -century ago, an ugly obelisk to the memory of Valentine Gray, “the -little sweep,” erected by public subscription “in testimony of the -general feeling for suffering innocence.” Here is buried John Hamilton -Reynolds, Keats’ friend, and Hood’s brother-in-law, who himself in youth -bid fair to earn poetic fame. He is understood to be part author of -Hood’s _Odes to Great People_; and he was to have collaborated with -Keats in a volume of Italian tales, not to speak of work of his own like -“a runaway ring at Wordsworth’s Peter Bell”; but after penning stanzas -not unsuccessfully, he had the singular fate of taking to engrossing as -a solicitor. He seems to have grown soured or sottish in his later -life, which he ended obscurely as an official of the Newport County -Court. - -Of the few old buildings left in Newport, the most remarkable is the -Jacobean Grammar School at the corner of Lugley Street and the road -going down to cross Towngate bridge for Parkhurst and West Cowes. The -old portion, for a later addition has been made, is interesting not only -in itself, but as understood to have housed Charles I. during his last -abortive negotiations with the Parliament, at the end of which the king -was hurried away to his doom. Here, at that day, it was usual to receive -captains and other great men coming into the Island, with an oration -prepared by the schoolmaster and recited by a promising pupil; but one -fears that on his later appearances at Newport poor Charles was somewhat -scrimply treated in the way of loyal addresses. - -Visitors to Newport nowadays come mainly for the sake of Carisbrooke -Castle, which is perhaps the chief attraction of the Island, drawing -thousands of excursionists on a holiday occasion. Carisbrooke, at one -time overshadowing the humble beginnings of Newport, is now almost one -of its suburbs, the distance being only a mile or so. From the end of -High Street, the way is by the Mall, a dignified parade that suggests -Bath or Clifton. The road divides at a memorial cross to Sir John -Simeon, Tennyson’s friend and neighbour at Swainston, notable as the -first Catholic to sit in a modern parliament, though he belonged to a -family whose theological associations were expressed by the Simeon Trust -for stocking pulpits with Evangelical divines. Either fork leads to -Carisbrooke, that to the right being the highway for the village, and -the other going more directly to the castle, under a height on which is -the cemetery. - -The Windsor of Newport is in itself a place to delight our American -guests, a long, steep village street of true British irregularity, -giving off straggling lanes of rose-wreathed cottages, through which, in -the hollow, flows a clear and shallow brook, bordered by luxuriant -hedges, and by notices of “Teas Provided.” The main thoroughfare, -mounting up to the Church, shows an unusual number of hotels and other -places of entertainment; and the excursion vehicles that rendezvous here -in summer rather disturb the peaceful charm of Carisbrooke, which too -evidently lives on its visitors. - -What is left of the Church, originally a double one divided between the -parish and a priory that stood here, still makes a spacious structure, -rearing the best tower in the Island, and enshrining some monuments and -relics, most notable among them the tomb of Sir Nicholas Wadham’s wife, -two generations before the founder of Wadham College. A quaint wooden -tablet recalls the career of William Keeling, one of the earliest of our -East Indian officials, whose name is preserved by the Keeling or Cocos -Islands discovered by him far out in the Indian Ocean, in our time to -be occupied by a Scottish family named Ross, who made this atoll group -into a thriving settlement. The churchyard has a good show of old -tombstones, including a weeping willow, railed in, as fanciful memorial -of a former vicar. - -A late incumbent was the Rev. E. Boucher James, whose Archæological and -Historical Letters made valuable contributions to the annals of the -Island. He does not omit to dig up the buried renown of his predecessor, -the Rev. Alexander Ross, that erudite and voluminous Scot, now -remembered only by the luck of rhyme that made a “sage philosopher” to -have “read Alexander Ross over,” yet by his pen or his preaching, or -somehow, he seems to have gained a considerable fortune, part of which -he left to the poor of Carisbrooke. Any modern reader who cares to -tackle this once-esteemed author, might try a spell at his “Πανσεβεια: -View of all Religions,” which is still to be seen at libraries, if not -on railway bookstalls. Another Carisbrooke worthy commemorated by Mr -James was William Stephens, who, after losing his fortune and his seat -as member for Newport, took part in General Oglethorpe’s philanthropic -plan for settling Georgia, came to be president of the colony, and ended -his life rather miserably in squabbles with the disciples of Whitfield -and other discontented immigrants. Among this learned parson’s records -is the pretty story of Dorothy Osborne, who, travelling with her father -and brother in the days of the Civil War, at an inn hereabouts fell in -with the future Sir William Temple, and the beginning of their courtship -was through one of the young men scrawling on the window some -disrespectful words about the Parliament, which led to the whole party -being haled before the governor, to be released when Dorothy took the -offence on herself: those stern Ironsides did not war against ladies. -More than once the late vicar has to speak of his “friend and -parishioner,” Henry Morley, who here ended the labours on English -literature that made his name well known both in England and America. - -Beside the parsonage is a sixpenny show of pavements, and other remains -of a Roman villa unearthed about half a century ago, but since thrown -into the shade by the larger one discovered at Brading. A more recent -sign of Roman invasion is the establishment here of foreign religious -communities, driven by French secularism into this pleasant exile. It is -no common village that clusters about the tower, looking down “from its -centuries of grey calm on the fitful stir and fret around it, and the -fevered hopes and fears that must end at last in the quiet green mounds -at its feet.” - -The Castle stands across the valley, where its grey walls, buoyed by a -flagstaff, hardly peep out above the wooded slopes and the thick -greenery that floods the moat. This most picturesquely situated pile -represents a very ancient fortress, held by the Romans, as by ruder -warriors before them, then expanded and strengthened according to the -needs of different times, so as now in its half-dilapidated, -half-restored state, to form a charming medley of ruinous repair, -wreathed with various historic memories, and specially haunted by those -of the last year in which its walls were sternly guarded. - -The oldest part is the Norman Keep, raised upon a mound that gives a -fine prospect over Newport and down the Medina. Beautiful views can also -be had from the moated walls within which Carisbrooke’s inner defences -were enclosed by an Italian engineer in the days of the Armada. His work -appears to have been stopped by the failure of that enterprise; had it -been completed after his designs, this would have made the strongest -fortress in Elizabethan England; and it enjoys the distinction of a -virgin stronghold with no record of capture, unless may be counted to -the contrary its honourable surrender by Lady Portland’s tiny garrison -to the Parliamentary forces. The outer entrance bears the date 1598. The -massive inner Gate-house, begun at the same time as the Keep, shows work -of different periods, including recent restoration. Here, as so often in -the Island, something has to be paid for admission; and there are -further small charges for what an irreverent mind might term the -side-shows. The main attraction is the remains of the royal prison that -gives this castle its special interest as scene of almost the latest -English romance in the history of such “grey and ivied walls where ruin -greenly dwells.” Its earliest note - -[Illustration: CARISBROOKE CASTLE] - -in more misty annals seems to be that here Sir Bevis of Hampton, having -overcome his wicked stepfather, Sir Murdour, caused that traitor to be -boiled to death in a caldron of pitch and brimstone, one of the facts -not now known to “every schoolboy.” But such a well-informed personage -is no doubt aware how the most famous event of this castle’s story was -King Charles’ confinement here. - -After his escape from Hampton Court in November 1647, attended by three -gentlemen, the king made for the Solent, and crossed to the Isle of -Wight, believing the Governor, Colonel Hammond, to be favourable to him. -But Hammond, a connection of Cromwell, and son-in-law of John Hampden, -received Charles as a prisoner rather than a sovereign,--at first, -indeed, treated with respect and allowed to ride out hunting about -Parkhurst Forest, with the governor in his train. Carisbrooke was so -slightly guarded, that the king judged it easy to escape when he -pleased. At the end of the year, he did propose to escape to Southampton -down the Medina, but found himself baffled by a change of wind to the -north. After that, he was kept in closer restraint, most of his faithful -attendants being dismissed, and the Castle made a real prison. One -Captain Burley tried to raise a rescue for him at Newport, but was taken -prisoner, to be with legal mockery tried and executed for treason -against the king in his parliament. - -Poor Charles was soon stripped of what royal ceremonial had been left -him. For exercise he walked up and down the Tilt Yard turned into a -bowling-green, or round the ramparts, looking sadly out on the green -slopes that bounded his view. He spent much time in reading, writing, -and gloomy meditation. Now, according to a discredited tradition, he -finished that _Eikon Basilike_ which has been almost conclusively shown -to be the work of Dr Thomas Gauden. Nor should his admirers press a -dubious title for him as poet, in the verses entitled _Majesty in -Misery_, that begin by a rather lame invocation-- - - Great Monarch of the world, from whose power springs - The potency and power of kings, - Record the royal woe my suffering brings, - - And teach my tongue that ever did confine - Its faculties in truth’s seraphic line, - To track the treasons of Thy foes and mine. - -As sympathising attendants he had Harrington, author of _Oceana_, and -Thomas Herbert, who stuck by him to the end; while one Osborne, put near -him as a spy for the Parliament, seems to have been so far won by the -captive’s woes, that he is found helping an attempt at escape. The most -authentic occupation for the king’s too much leisure was intriguing with -his friends, by means of letters in cipher and other communications -through the trusty servants left him, till this secret correspondence -was tapped by his custodians. - -His cause was not yet lost. While Cromwell strove to trim the -captainless ship of State between the extreme Presbyterians and -Levellers, there were signs of reaction in the king’s favour. Fresh -civil war broke out from the still smouldering embers in different -parts. Hamilton with his army of Scots invaded England. Prince Charles -with a loyal section of the fleet hovered upon the east coast from his -base in Holland; and it seems strange that he made no attempt to rescue -his father by a landing on the Island, even when Parliamentary ships -guarded the Solent. The queen, on the continent, was hatching war -against the distracted government _de facto_, which had good reason for -holding her husband fast, lest he should place himself at the head of -any of these movements. - -In March a plot had nearly succeeded, by which Charles should have -broken out and ridden away with a band of loyal gentlemen of the Island, -as Mary did from Loch Leven. But he was not so lucky as his bewitching -grandmother. He stuck fast in a barred window, and had to give up the -attempt. Two months later, the bar having been filed or eaten away with -acid, he tried again, but being more closely watched, found Hammond on -the alert and double guards posted on the walls. Now confined in closer -quarters, the king seems to have lost heart. His uncrowned head turned -grey, he let his beard grow, and the once trim cavalier became careless -of his dress. Nor had his gaoler Hammond a happy time of it, who is -found complaining to Cromwell of the “sad and heavy burden” laid upon -him, when he had hoped for peace and quiet in retiring from active -service to this backwater of civil strife. - -Yet still Charles might have been saved by a little more of the craft -that had brought him to ruin. In September he was moved to Newport for a -last effort at negotiation between himself and the Parliament, which now -saw reason to dread the army as a more formidable tyrant. But hopes of -an understanding stuck upon the point of religion, the “conscientious -and untrustworthy” king proving firm in his devotion to prelacy. He once -again seems to have thought of escaping, in spite of having given his -word to remain at Newport. Then, while the treaty dragged itself on, the -soldiers, exasperated by renewed bloodshed, raised a cry for sharper -measures. Cromwell began to talk loudly of justice. A band of his -troopers appeared in the Island to “guard” the residence of Charles, who -now refused to escape, as bound by his parole. On the last night of -November, the shifty and irresolute king was forcibly carried off to -Yarmouth by two troops of horse, to be ferried across to Hurst Castle, -and thence, before Christmas, taken to Windsor as prisoner of the army, -that meanwhile, by “Pride’s Purge,” had got rid of the moderate party in -Parliament, putting England under martial law. - -After Charles’ execution, Carisbrooke received two more royal prisoners, -Princess Elizabeth and the little Duke of Gloucester, kept in hand as -possible figure-head of a constitutional monarchy, now that his two -elder brothers were out of the Commonwealth’s power. The treatment of -these young captives makes a pleasant contrast to the fate of Louis -XVI.’ss children in their harsh prison, though some extremists had -proposed that the young malignants should be “apprenticed to honest -trades.” A yearly £1000 was granted for their support, £5000 having been -the king’s allowance. But almost at once the poor princess caught cold -through getting wet at a game of bowls, and a month later was laid, as -we saw, in Newport Church. The little duke, addressed as “Master Harry,” -was kept here for two years, then allowed by the Protector to join his -family on the continent, England being by this time provided with a -ruler who made more than a figure-head. This young prince died of -small-pox, just as the Restoration was opening brighter prospects for -his house. A later captive at Carisbrooke was Sir Henry Vane, a man too -good for those troubled times, whose fate was to offend all parties, -driven out of his governorship in Massachusetts, imprisoned by Cromwell, -and executed under Charles II. Sir William Davenant is said also to have -spent part of his imprisonment here. - -The scenes traditionally connected with that moving story are shown to -visitors. Relics of the unfortunate Charles and his family are preserved -in a museum above the gateway, a part of the castle restored by way of -memorial to her husband by Princess Henry of Battenburg, who, as -Governor of the Island, is _châtelaine_, her deputy occupying a -habitable portion as keeper. The ruined chapel of St Nicholas in the -courtyard has also been restored, in memory of the king whom modern -historians make not so much of a saint and a martyr. Another sight of -the Castle is its deep well, from which water is drawn by a wheel worked -by a dynasty of donkeys that have the reputation of enjoying longer life -than falls to the lot of most monarchs. - -Carisbrooke has a station, a little to the north, on the Freshwater -line. Beyond this, the westward high-road is edged by a front of dark -firs that mark the enclosure of Parkhurst or Carisbrooke Forest, compact -fragment of a once more extensive woodland, swelling up into eminences -of two or three hundred feet. This is Government property, but ways -through it are open for shady rambles, very pleasant on a hot day. A -field-path from Newport, starting by a footbridge beside a prominent -block of brewery buildings just below the station, leads to the -south-east corner of the forest, where workhouse, prison, and barracks -adjoin one another to make up a little town. Parkhurst Prison, whose -inmates one has seen engaged in the idyllic occupation of haymaking -within a fence of fixed bayonets, ranks as a sort of sanatorium among -our convict depôts, to which delicate criminals are sent rather than to -the bleak heights of Portland or Dartmoor. - -The soldiers at the barracks are kept in better order than that Scots -regiment that proved such a curse and corruption to the quiet Wight -parishes in Oglander’s time. He represents them as billeted in the -Island “because they should not run away, being constrained for the most -part to serve contrary to their wills”--_volunteers_, as he elsewhere -calls them “a proud, beggarly nation, and I hope we shall never be -troubled with the like [again], especially the red-shanks, or the -Highlanders, being as barbarous in nature as their clothes.” These -strangers, “insolent by reason of their unanimous holding together,” -brought about so many “inconveniences,” murders, rapes, robberies, and -so forth, that when at length they were shipped off to the siege of La -Rochelle, after being reviewed by Charles on Arreton Down, the worthy -knight can record how “we were free from our Egyptian thraldom, or like -Spain from the Moors, for since the Danish slavery never were these -Islanders so oppressed.” In the outspoken fashion of his day, he notes -how the Scots left behind them a considerable strain of northern blood, -which may have been not altogether an evil for a too closely connected -neighbourhood, where, if all tales are true, marrying in and in has -generated a good deal of physical and mental feebleness. - -Keats, who seems to have written part of _Endymion_ at Carisbrooke, -denounces the barracks at Parkhurst as a “nest of debauchery.” But at -the worst, they may have been an Arcadian nook compared to that East -India Company’s recruits depôt near Ryde, described by Scott, in _The -Surgeon’s Daughter_, as a gaol of adventurous scum of society swept -together by crimps and kidnappers. Sir Walter must have visited or at -least coasted “the shore of that beautiful island, which he who once -sees never forgets,” when in 1807 he stayed with his friend Stewart Rose -at Gundimore on the Hampshire coast. Since his day, the Island has seen -various samples of Highland soldiers, and found them not too barbarous -either in dress or manners. - -By Parkhurst there is a pleasant way to Gurnard Bay, the nearest -bathing-place on the coast. Cowes, under half a dozen miles off, may be -gained by roads on either side the river, or by boat when the tide -serves. The well-shod and wary explorer might trace the Medina upwards -through the Downs, and among the peaty bogs of the “Wilderness” on to -its obscure source behind the Undercliff. On either side the “quarried -downs of Wight” offer fine airy walks with valley villages for goal, or -such points as the ancient British settlement, whose pit dwellings may -be traced by an antiquary’s eye in the hollow below Rowborough Downs, -near the road leading south from Carisbrooke. On the other side of the -Medina, by St George’s Down, is mounted the ridge of chalk stretching to -Brading and Bembridge. - -In fact Newport, too much neglected by tourists, unless as a -halting-place, would make an excellent station for visiting the whole -Island. I must be content with taking the reader on by the central -railway to the Undercliff. This goes out from Newport with the line to -Sandown, threading the Downs into the Yar Valley; then at Merston -Junction it turns off towards the southern heights swelling up beyond -Godshill station. But one must not forget to mention Shide, on the -outskirts of Newport, not only as a station for its golf-links on Pan -Down, but as a spot in wider touch with the world than any other on the -Island, for here Dr John Milne, F.R.S., has his Seismological -Observatory, if that be a fit title for an installation of instruments -by which earthquakes, thousands of miles away, are recorded long before -they get into newspapers--some indeed that never get into further -notice, spending their force at the bottom of the sea or in wildernesses -beyond the ken of “our own correspondent.” - -Godshill is one of the prettiest of the Island villages, claiming its -name from that oft-told legend of supernatural interference with the -building of a church, which by miraculous power was moved to its present -site on an eminence, where it holds up its tower as a conspicuous -landmark. This church is often visited both for the prospect from it, -and for its architectural merits and interesting memorials. Besides a -sixteenth century altar tomb of Sir John Leigh and monuments of the -Worsley family, it contains a specimen of their once famous art -collection in a picture of _Daniel in the Lion’s Den_, said to be in -part by Rubens, or at least after his style. An older patron is recorded -by a tablet praising one of the benefactors of the Newport Grammar -School. - - Here lies the mortal part of Richard Gard, - While his freed spirit meets with heaven’s reward; - His gifts endowed the schools, the needy raised - And by the latest memory will be praised. - And may our Isle be filled with such a name, - And be like him whom virtue clothed with fame; - Blessed with the poor, the scholars too were blest - Through such a donor that is gone to rest. - -A strange commentary on the truthfulness of epitaphs is the account of -that late lamented given by his contemporary Oglander, declaring him the -knavish son of a French refugee, whose father, Pierre Garde, had been -executed for treason in his own country. An extract on this head makes a -good specimen of Sir John’s random jottings, that open such curious -peeps into the state of his native Island at that date. One takes the -liberty of correcting his spelling; but the style seems past mending. - - Richard, the father, was a notable sly fellow, dishonest and given - to filching; he brought some tricks out of France with him. - _Vide_--he would steal a cow, and putting a loaf of bread hot out - of the oven on her horns, make her horns so supple that they would - turn any way he pleased, so as to disfigure the beast that the - owner might not know her again. Many other shifts he had, being a - man of no great conscience, by which means he recovered some - wealth, and died. His sons, Richard and Peter, did not degenerate; - Richard was as crafty a knave as any (except his brother) in a - whole country; he was good at reading and understanding of old - evidences, whereby he got many into his hands, and so forced the - owners to a composition. He was indifferently skilled in law, a - most penurious base fellow, and of little religion; he died about - 1616, and in his will gave Richard, the eldest son of Peter, the - better part of his estate, having no children of his - -[Illustration: GODSHILL] - - own. He willed his body to be coffined in lead, and to be laid but - 2 foot deep in the earth, in the porch of Godshill Church, as - unwilling that too much earth should hinder him from rising at the - resurrection; where we will leave him, to speak of Peter, the - second brother, and son of Richard the Bandit. - - This Peter had left him by his father a little land at St Helens - (which how it might be purchased in his own name, being an alien, I - leave) worth per annum £5. Richard the elder brother being willing - to cheat his brother Peter of the land, was an importunate suitor - to buy it of him; the other, as crafty, permitted him to feed him - with money, and having had half or better of the worth of it, was - drawn (as he made himself very unwilling) to sign a deed of sale - thereof to his brother; but he being at that time under age; the - first act he did when he came of age was to cheat the cheater, and - nullify that deed by non-age. The enmity then between the two - brothers was great; they vilified one another, and discovered each - other’s knavery to the view of the whole Island. I cannot omit one - in silence, being so notorious. Richard Garde had good store of - monies, and durst not trust any man with it, no not his own house, - but hid it in a pot underground in the field, where one Smyth, his - neighbour, mistrusting some such matter, observed him more - narrowly, and by watching him found an opportunity to gain the - hidden pot. The other when he missed it, esteeming it little less - than his God, had well-near hanged himself, but that he had some - confidence by the devil’s means to recover it, whereupon the - brothers, now friends, consult of the means--Peter as the more - active man undertakes it, goes to a witch near Kingwood, or - somewhere, and brought home certain hope of the short return of the - monies; whereupon this Smyth, the Saturday following, was taken on - Hazely Hill on his return from Newport, and there in a great storm - was beaten, haled, whipped, misused, and almost killed (had not - some the next morning found him by chance) not knowing or seeing - who did act it, but affirmed it was the devil; and being long ill - after, could not be quiet in conscience till he had brought home - the pot of silver again to Richard Garde’s house to Binstead, - according to the true relation formerly made to Peter by the witch. - Peter, he got still lands and livings, whether by right or wrong I - suppose he little respected; he was, and is, one of the slyest, - craftiest knaves that I know; wit and judgment in matters of law he - hath enough both to serve his own turn and to cozen his neighbours; - a man worse spoken of I never knew. - -A more honourable name was the Worsleys, here commemorated, long one of -the chief families in the Island, that had its principal seat at -Appuldurcombe on the high downs above Godshill. Its most notable member -was Sir Richard Worsley, a cultured Georgian squire, who wrote the -history of the Island in quarto, and on his travels made a celebrated -art collection to adorn the stately classical mansion which he -completed, replacing what had been a Benedictine Abbey. By marriage, the -house and its treasures passed to the Earls of Yarborough, who, half a -century ago left the Island, carrying away the art collection to be -mainly dispersed. - -The Lord Yarborough of early Victorian times was a “character,” doughty -commodore of the R.Y.S., who tried to play Canute against the advance of -railways, a prejudice then shared by high and low, as we learn in -Herbert Spencer’s autobiography. His arbitrary lordship had his lands -protected against this radical innovation by a guard charged to take -into custody anybody with a theodolite, or who looked in the least like -a railway engineer. Upon one occasion, a man newly appointed to the -post, meeting his master in a secluded part of the estate, at once -collared him, an incident to be paralleled by Mr John Mytton’s famous -fight, in the disguise of a sweep, with his own keeper. - -The mansion, whose name should be strongly accented on the last -syllable, stands in a combe, well displayed against its background of -dark wood. Since it passed to “overners,” it has been turned into an -hotel, then into a school; and a few years ago was acquired by a -community of Benedictine monks exiled from France, thus coming back to -its original owners. As already mentioned, this Order has since acquired -Quarr Abbey, and are spreading their establishments so fast over the -Island, that sound Protestants dread to see given up to cloisters all of -it that is not dedicated to golf. - -For laymen and strangers in general the most interesting spot of this -demesne is the Worsley obelisk on the highest point of the Downs, raised -by Sir Richard Worsley to a height of 70 feet, but in 1831 struck by -lightning that shattered its huge blocks of granite into wild confusion. -From this half-ruined landmark the most extensive view in the Island -displays its whole length and breadth, from the chalk cliffs of Culver -to those about the Needles. - -The railway, whose whistle might make that prejudiced Lord Yarborough -turn in his grave, of course keeps clear of far prospects, taking a -break in the Downs to thread its way through by Whitwell, which has a -remarkable restored church, originally composed of two chapels, one -belonging to Gatcombe, some miles north-west, once seat of another -branch of the Worsley family, and having an ancient church of its own. -Thus the line drops down into the rich greenery of the Undercliff, at St -Lawrence turning eastward above the shore, to reach Ventnor beside -Steephill Castle. - - - - -THE EAST SIDE - - -The more direct route from Ryde to Ventnor is by road, rail, or boat -along the east coast. From the Newport line diverges the old Ventnor -railway, at Brading sending off a branchlet for Bembridge, then holding -on behind Sandown and Shanklin. Thus on this side are strung together -the oldest and one of the youngest settlements of the Isle of Wight. - -Brading, an hour’s walk from Ryde, seems an insignificant place now; but -it claims to have been the ancient metropolis of the Island in days when -St Helens was its chief port. Brading Harbour, still a tidal creek that -at high water dignifies the landscape, once made a wider and deeper -gulf, which guide-books of a century back describe as an inland lake set -in woods. Time was, says Sir John Oglander, that boats came up to the -middle of Brading Street, and in the haven below there would be choice -of twenty good shipmasters to undertake any voyage. Then the harbour -having become choked by unwholesome marshes, an attempt was made to -embank them, in which work Sir Hugh Middleton of New River fame had a -hand, and certain “ignorant Dutchmen” were brought over to put in -practice the art to which they owed their own native soil. But the -Dutchmen’s dykes broke down; and the land was not thoroughly reclaimed -till our own time saw the enterprise accomplished by that “Liberator” -Company of else evil renown. - -Thus Brading came to be gradually stranded some mile or two inland. The -townlet, that once sent two members to Parliament, has relics to show of -its old dignity, its bull ring, its stocks, and its Norman Church, rich -in monuments, notably the Oglander Chapel enshrining tombs of a family -settled at Nunwell on Brading Down for many centuries, among them the -effigy of that Sir John Oglander, whose memoranda have been so much -drawn on by later writers. He tells how then “many score” of Oglanders -lay in this oldest church of the Island, where the latest addition to -the family chapel is a fine monument to his descendant of the Victorian -age. - -The churchyard contains more than one celebrated epitaph, such as that -set to music by Dr Calcott-- - - Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear! - -and another on a child-- - - This lovely bud, so young, so fair, - Called hence by early doom, - Just came to show how sweet a flower - In Paradise would bloom. - -Here was buried “Jane the young Cottager,” whose humble name has been -spread far by Legh Richmond, curate of this parish at the end of the -eighteenth century. It is to be feared that his writings are not so well -known to our generation as they once were in the religious world, for he -belonged to that school of Evangelical saints, who dwelt more on “Gospel -truths” than on “sound Church feeling”; and his long-spun deathbed -scenes are hardly to the taste of readers who have learned to look for -more piquant flavours in the literature of edification. But in the Isle -of Wight, where Protestantism puts down its foot the more firmly for -recent Catholic invasion, this kindly pastor’s “Annals of the Poor” -still seem to find a sale, as they once did in many languages. Mr -Boucher James goes so far as to say that “in a small way Legh Richmond -did for the Isle of Wight what Walter Scott did for the Scottish -Highlands,” by drawing tourists to seek out the scenes of his tracts. At -all events he deserves the brass now placed to his memory in Brading -Church.[2] - -The much restored Church claims to represent that first erected on the -same site by Wilfred, apostle of the Island. But another lion of Brading -is older than its church, though unknown to Legh Richmond’s generation. -This is the Roman villa, discovered a generation ago by Mr Hilton Price, -Director of the Society of Antiquaries, which boasts itself to be the -finest of such miniature Pompeiis in England. It stands about a mile to -the south-west, near Yarbridge, the way being easily found, since -direction posts are never wanting in the Isle of Wight where there is -anything to pay for admission; and the tarred sheds that protect the -remains stand conspicuous against a chalk cutting on the Downs. A score -or so apartments have been unearthed, in some of which were found many -relics of the Roman occupation, the most interesting part of the show -being the tesselated pavements with their mosaic designs. There appear -traces of two successive ownerships, and of the villa having been -destroyed by fire, perhaps on the evacuation of Britain by the Roman -troops. The complete building seems to have been composed of the -_Urbana_, or master’s dwelling, the _Rustica_, or quarters for -dependents, and the _Fructuaria_, store-houses and offices, arranged on -three sides of a rectangle. - -From Brading the central line of downs runs westward for half-a-dozen -miles to the valley of the Medina. On the height known as Ashey Down, a -stone pyramid, erected as a sea-mark, makes one of the favourite -view-points, looking over half the Island and across the Solent to -Portsmouth. Further along, below a crest marked by Saxon burrows, -Arreton has a fine prospect upon the valley of the Yar to the south. -This is one of the Island’s show villages, where excursion coaches stop -to let their passengers see the Church with its medley of Gothic -features, and the grave of the “Dairyman’s Daughter,” another of Legh -Richmond’s heroines, lying at peace among warriors and knights of old. -The old manor-house of this scattered village bears marks of bygone -dignity; but destruction has come upon Knighton, which a century or so -back could still be called the stateliest hall of the Island. - -In the _Dairyman’s Daughter_, Legh Richmond turns his thoughts from -heaven to earth to give a description of what one surveys from the Ashey -Down sea-mark; one may omit some final features which have altered since -his day, as well as the moral drawn by the good clergyman from the fact -that so “much of the natural beauties of Paradise still remain in the -world.” - - Southward the view was terminated by a long range of hills, at - about six miles distance. They met, to the westward, another chain - of hills, of which the one whereon I sat formed a link, and the - whole together nearly encompassed a rich and fruitful valley, - filled with corn-fields and pastures. Through this vale winded a - small valley for many miles; much cattle were feeding on its banks. - Here and there lesser eminences arose in the valley; some covered - with wood, others with corn or grass, and a few with heath or fern. - One of these little hills was distinguished by a parish church at - the top, presenting a striking feature in the landscape. Another of - these elevations, situated in the centre of the valley, was adorned - with a venerable holly-tree, which has grown there for ages. Its - singular height and wide-spreading dimensions not only render it an - object of curiosity to the traveller, but of daily usefulness to - the pilot, as a mark visible from the sea, whereby to direct his - vessel safe into harbour. Villages, - -[Illustration: WATER MEADOWS OF THE YAR NEAR ALVERSTONE] - - churches, country-seats, farmhouses, and cottages were scattered - over every part of the southern valley.... - - South-eastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only by the horizon. - The sun shone, and gilded the waves with a glittering light that - sparkled in the most brilliant manner. More to the east, in - continuation of that line of hills where I was placed, rose two - downs, one beyond the other; both covered with sheep, and the sea - just visible over the farthest of them, as a terminating boundary. - In this point, ships were seen, some sailing, others at anchor. - Here the little river, which watered the southern valley, finished - its course, and ran through meadows into the sea, in an eastward - direction. - - On the north the sea appeared like a noble river, varying from - three to seven miles in breadth, between the banks of the opposite - coast and those of the island which I inhabited. Immediately - underneath me was a fine woody district of country, diversified by - many pleasing objects. Distant towns were visible on the opposite - shore. Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered station which this - northern channel afforded them. The eye roamed with delight over an - expanse of near and remote beauties, which alternately caught the - observation, and which harmonised together, and produced a scene of - peculiar interest. - - Westward the hills followed each other, forming several - intermediate and partial valleys, in a kind of undulations, like - the waves of the sea; and, bending to the south, completed the - boundary of the larger valley before described, to the southward of - the hill on which I sat. - -This river Yar, not to be confounded with its namesake on the other side -of the Island, rises in the southern downs that bound the prospect over -its valley. At Brading, it finds a gap through the northern heights, -beyond which it winds sluggishly into that shrunken harbour. Above the -left side stands St Helens, with its wide green and fringe of leafy -lanes, having moved up from a lower site, where an ivied fragment of the -old church shows its whitewashed face to the sea as a beacon. The sandy -spit here has also been turned to use for golf-links, that helped -yachting to make the fortune of Bembridge. The Island seems now in a -fair way of being half laid out in golf grounds, but these were the -first, or among the first, which, though small, had the advantage of a -mild climate to invite enthusiasts in winter, when elsewhere red balls -would be necessary for their absorbing pastime. Links for ladies are a -later addition, on the opposite side of the river, that the eyes of -neither sex may be distracted from a foursome to what might become a -twosome game of life. - -Bembridge itself, linked to St Helens by a ferry boat, nestles very -prettily on the wooded point opposite. The nucleus of nautically named -inns and cottages is much overlaid by hotel and lodging-house -accommodation, and by villas whose owners declare Bembridge to be the -Island’s pleasantest spot. One of its chief attractions, after golf, is -the view of shipping in the Solent mouth; but it has some pretty spots -on land, such as the avenue running inland from the bathing beach. To -the south it is sheltered by the Foreland, the most easterly point, over -which we may hold by mounting lanes, or take a rough path round the -shore, tide permitting, that has also to be considered in boating about -the dangerous Bembridge Ledges roughening the sea at low water. - -Thus we pass on to the curve of Whitecliff Bay, where the chalk of the -Downs is broken by an expanse of Eocene beds, making for the geologist a -foretaste - -[Illustration: SANDOWN BAY] - -of that more glowing transformation scene shown in Alum Bay at the -Island’s western end. The Culver Cliffs at this end are protected by a -fort which has masked the Hermit’s Hole, a cave once used by smugglers. -On the other side of Bembridge is a small fortress, now so far behind -the times that it was lately advertised as suitable for a private -residence or an hotel. - -Beyond Whitecliff Bay, the cliffs curve into the block of Bembridge -Down, crowned by a modern fort that has usurped the originally more -conspicuous site of Lord Yarborough’s monument, now neighboured by a -Marconi Telegraph Station. On the southern slope are the tiny Norman -Church and decayed manor-house of Yaverland, which makes a scene in the -_Dairyman’s Daughter_. Here we have come round to Sandown Bay, the -largest and openest in the Island, reached byroad and rail from Brading -through the gap at Yarbridge. - -Sandown stands in a break of the cliffs, behind the centre of its bay, -compared of course to the Bay of Naples by those who never saw Vesuvius. -With its hotels, rows of smart lodging-houses, batteries of -bathing-machines, esplanade, arcade, and other very modern features, -this seems one of the most growing places in the Island; and I trust -Sandown will not take it amiss to be described as perhaps the most -commonplace resort here, or at least the most like the ordinary -Saturday-to-Monday. Its strong point is wide, firm sands for children, -and, on a common behind the town, excellent golf-links for their -elders, about the height known as “Majuba Hill,” the views from which -are complained of by votaries as interfering with strict attention to -their game. The summer season of this bathing-place is so prosperous -that some day its esplanade and Shanklin’s may stretch out to meet along -the couple of miles of cliff walk separating them. As link between them -springs up Lake, with its sumptuous “Home of Rest,” and its headquarters -of Isle of Wight cricket, behind the cliff descent at Littlestairs. - -Sandown Pier has met with rough handling from winter waves, to which, -however, the enterprising town will not give in so easily as did King -Canute, whose renowned object-lesson against pride, according to legend, -had its scene not far off, across the Solent. The railway station, which -stands some way back from the sea, is a junction of lines to Newport, -Ventnor, and Ryde, so that Sandown visitors can easily reach more -picturesque corners of the Island, or can soon gain the Downs framing -the green valley of the Yar. Up this valley the first station is -Alverston, near a knoll known as Queen’s Bower, from the tradition that -upon it Isabella de Fortibus watched the chase in what was then Bordwood -Forest. Near the next station, on an eminence beside the river, stands -up the ancient fane of Newchurch, a parish that, in spite of its name, -is old enough to have once included both Ryde and Ventnor in its ample -bounds. Then by Harringford Station below Arreton Down, the line comes -to Merston Junction, there forking north and south. - -In old days Sandown, then known rather as Sandham, was distinguished by -a “castle,” which has given place to less imposing but more formidable -modern forts, serving as models for sand-engineering to the troops of -children encamped here in summer. Its only other historical association -seems to be as retreat of the notorious John Wilkes in his old age, -cheered by more gentle pursuits than might be expected of a so -unedifying demagogue. He was given to rearing pigeons, as well as to -collecting books and china, at his Sandown “Villakin,” a sort of tawdry -miniature of Horace Walpole’s show, to which the owner’s notoriety -attracted many visitors. One describes him as walking about his grounds -“in Arcadian costume,” raking up weeds with a hoe and destroying vipers. -He complained that the pigeons he got from England, Ireland, and France -always took the first chance of flying home, so that he had almost given -up pigeon-keeping, “when I bethought myself to procure a cock and hen -pouter from Scotland: I need not add that _they never returned_.” This -cockney bitterness against North Britons, it will be remembered, made a -common subject between Dr Johnson and the ex-Lord Mayor, when Boswell -had his wish of bringing them together. Wilkes showed one visitor a pond -in the garden stocked with carp, tench, perch, and eels, because, he -said, fish could not be had by the seaside. Here he also employed -himself in writing the memoirs which he had the decency to destroy. The -toothless old rip, with one foot in the grave, bragged how his squinting -eye had done great execution with the pretty farmers’ daughters at -Newport market: well known is his boast, that, monster of ugliness as he -was, he could “talk away his face,” so as to be only a quarter of an -hour behind the handsomest man. Another story is that when, on his last -crossing of the Solent, the vessel was becalmed, he jocularly affected -to take this as a presage of death, since he had never been able to live -in a calm; but his retreat at Sandown seems to have been quiet enough -for Cowper or Hannah More. - -If, to set off against that ribald sojourner of its neighbour’s, -Shanklin wanted to boast a notorious character, it was a generation ago -the headquarters, as perhaps rather it would prefer to forget, of one of -the most audacious criminals of our time, whose life, so far as I know, -has never been written, unless in criminal calendars. His real name, it -appears, was Benson, which does not figure in the Dictionary of National -Biography, though it deserves a place there beside Claude Duval’s and -George Barrington’s; while I am mistaken if it were not qualified by -nationality. On this side of the Channel he called himself a Frenchman; -but he spoke French and English equally well, as would hardly have been -the case, had he not passed his youth in England. He was certainly a -Jew, of typically Jewish aspect. His adventurous career would make a -theme for the pen that chronicled Jonathan Wild’s; and if I offer a -sketch of it, _faute de mieux_, it is because I had the advantage of -knowing him. He did me the honour of trying to make me one of his dupes, -in which enterprise, I am glad to say, he succeeded less well than in -other cases; and I did not care to cultivate an acquaintance which he -pressed upon me. But with a little help from hearsay and surmise, I -believe I can supply an outline of his history, wrapped as it was in -clouds of deceit. - -He was, I am told, the son of a prosperous Jewish tradesman established -at Paris, who had means to put him in a position of respectability, if -not of wealth, “instead of which,” young Benson from his youth took to -knavery like a duck to the water. I have heard that in early life he had -been connected with the French or the Belgian press; and he showed some -familiarity with journalism, which he sought to turn to account in his -swindling schemes. That part of his life, indeed, lies in deep shadow, -which might be cleared up by research among police _dossiers_ of the -continent. - -His first notable _coup_ in England seems to have been during the -Franco-Prussian War, when he flew at such high game as the very Lord -Mayor. A French town had been burned by the Prussians. While this -disaster was still fresh on our news sheets, there burst into the -Mansion House a voluble gentleman professing to be the mayor of that -town, come to throw himself on the generosity of the great English -nation. Our sympathetic Lord Mayor handed out a thousand pounds; and it -was whispered at the time that this plausible guest carried off also the -heart of his lordship’s daughter. The clever trick ended in detection, -arrest, and two years’ imprisonment; then by way of varying the monotony -of Newgate, Benson tried to set fire to his cell, but succeeded only in -burning himself about the spine, so as to be henceforth a helpless -cripple. There were some who surmised that he made the most of this -injury as helping out his disguise of deceit; but I never saw his slight -figure unless as recumbent on a couch, or carried like a child in the -arms of a big Frenchman, who passed as his valet, being really one of -the swindling gang of which Benson was the brain. His crippled state was -put down to a railway accident. - -After his release from Newgate comes a period of obscurity, from which -he emerges about 1875 as living in some style at Shanklin, with a London -_pied à terre_ in Cavendish Square, a brougham, and everything genteel -about him. It was at this time I made his acquaintance. He then passed -under the name of Yonge, with some explanation which I forget; but he -confided to me and to others how he was really the Count de Montague, a -Frenchman engaged in conspiring for the Empire, business that was to -account for the seclusion in which he lived. This struck me as dubious: -in those days, before dynamite outrages, one could conspire at the -pitch of one’s voice in the middle of Piccadilly without anyone caring -to interfere. Moreover, in writing to me, he signed himself _De -Montagu_, whereas, for a more favoured friend, he decorated the name -with a final _e_. It took little Sherlock Holmes’ faculty to detect that -a French nobleman ought to know how to spell his own name; but I am glad -to say that from my first sight of the “Count,” I distrusted a gentleman -whose dress and manners seemed too fine to be true. He never deceived me -by his pretensions; and his overdone elegance served to set others on -their guard. Indeed, like Joseph Andrews, he might have passed for a -nobleman with one who had not seen many noblemen. - -For not being taken in by him, I have perhaps to thank my deficiencies. -His chief accomplishment, it seems, was playing the piano like an angel, -which left me cold, while it drew tuneful flies into his web of treasons -and stratagems. Some women were much taken by his feline manners, which -on others produced such a feeling of repulsion as was my experience. One -family became so captivated as to act as his social sponsors in the Isle -of Wight, where he was received with open arms. If I remember right, it -was a house belonging to this family which he tenanted; and rumour went -that his admiring landlady’s eyes were hardly opened even by the -exposure that cost her dear. Several writers for the press were brought -into relations with him through a well-known author, who has to confess -that he allowed his honesty to be deceived. When urged to search closer -into Benson’s antecedents, he was content to let himself be put off with -audacity. “Go to the French Ambassador!” exclaimed that plausible knave; -but no such inquiry was carried out; and his most solid credentials were -from a London bank, that knew nothing of him but his having a -considerable balance to draw upon. - -How he got the means to figure thus as a wealthy foreigner, I know not; -but I have a good guess as to a main aim of his schemes which never came -to light. At this time he was concerned in founding a periodical which -was to champion religion, loyalty, honesty, and other causes he -professed to have at heart. He knew very little about the higher walks -of the press; and his design wavered between a newspaper and a -half-crown monthly. In the latter form the organ financed by him did -appear, soon to be eclipsed. Its name and short history are best -forgotten. The pious founder, not being so ready with his pen as with -his tongue, proposed to me to write an article on certain money-market -matters, the tone and facts of which article were to be dictated by him. -He was such a shallow knave that he did not take the precaution of -carefully testing my likelihood to be a fit tool in his hands; and at my -first interview with him, he took for granted that I knew nothing of -French; then, by the way in which he and his valet _parlez-voused_ to -each other before my face, I soon got a suspicion they were not master -and servant. - -By no means prepossessed in his favour by the ease with which he -reckoned on catching me, I refused to enlist myself as literary bravo in -affairs quite beyond my scope. He did find a more subservient scribe to -write such an article as he had outlined, which the publisher refused to -print as libellous; then Benson was for bringing an action against the -firm by way of advertisement for his organ, now launched with a great -flourish of trumpets. This was at a time when certain papers had done -more or less good service, to themselves and the public, by exposing -scandals in the financial world. On that example, I believe Benson aimed -at gaining a character for audacious honesty, then using it to rig the -money-market to his own profit _quo cumque modo_, or to levy blackmail -in a manner since perfected by certain “financial” papers that are the -disgrace of our journalism. - -I never understood why he took some pains to enlist me as his -accomplice, or could imagine that he had found in me a congenial spirit. -More than once he asked me to his house in the Isle of Wight; but it -proved well that I never accepted any hospitality from him. To oblige my -friend the editor, whose only fault in the matter was a generous -trustfulness, I did write for his organ on subjects in my own line; but -my misgivings held me back from personal intercourse with the -proprietor. The last time I saw him was at a dinner party, some way out -of London, given to make him acquainted with the staff of his literary -enterprise. He had now come to whispering that he was no less than a -prince, who for certain reasons preferred to be _incognito_; and some of -us needy scribblers were much impressed by his condescension. He pressed -on me the honour of having a lift back to town in his carriage, which I -accepted very unwillingly, so strong had grown my suspicions. On our -drive, I remember, the main drift of his conversation was contempt for -the company we had just left; and he abused the host for asking the like -of him to meet such outsiders; but I did not respond to the flattery -implied in such confidences, with which once more he seemed inviting me -to intimacy. I congratulated myself on my reserve, when next week a -reward of £1000 was offered for the arrest of this pseudo-prince, set in -his true light by a notorious trial that followed in the spring of 1877, -after he had been run to earth in Scotland, somewhere about the Bridge -of Allan. - -This was known as the Turf Frauds case; but I forgot the precise details -of the ingenious swindle which Benson, along with several accomplices, -was convicted of practising on a French lady, the Comtesse de Goncourt. -As ringleader, and as formerly convicted of forgery, he was sentenced to -fifteen years’ imprisonment. In the course of the trial, it came out -that he had managed to corrupt some of the minor officials of Newgate, -and to keep up relations outside, by whose help this cripple had plotted -a daring escape. Then, his fate being decided, he sought to gain some -remission of his punishment by turning informer on another set of -accomplices; and the public was amazed, not to say dismayed, to learn -that several of the detective inspectors of Scotland Yard had been in -this scoundrel’s pay, hobnobbing with him as his guests, and serving -warnings on him instead of the warrants entrusted to them. The story is -too long to tell that came out in a three weeks’ sensational trial at -the end of the same year. One or two of the accused detectives got off -in a cloud of suspicion; but the others, as well as a solicitor who had -been leagued with them, convicted chiefly on Benson’s evidence, were -sentenced to two years’ imprisonment, from which a couple of -ex-inspectors emerged to start in the shady profession of private -inquiry agents. - -I am not sure if Benson served his full term in England; but it was many -years afterwards that I heard of him as having again got into trouble in -Switzerland. This time, he must have come off easily, for when three or -four more years had passed, he is seen seeking fortune in the New World. -Here his last trick was as ingenious and bold as his first appearance at -the Mansion House. A great singer, Madame Patti if I mistake not, was -eagerly expected at the Opera House of Mexico City. A few days in -advance of her, came to the Iturbide Hotel a polite gentleman giving -himself out as her agent. This was Benson, who, having sold all the -boxes and stalls, made off with his plunder in a special train, and -managed to get out of the country, but was arrested, I understand, in -New York, to be held for extradition. It is probable that Mexican penal -servitude has terrors even for habitués of Newgate and Dartmoor. At all -events, poor Benson, in despair, committed suicide by throwing himself -over a landing in his prison. So ended my would-be host in the Isle of -Wight, where he entertained worthier guests than me, not to speak of his -train of friendly detectives. - -This is but an ugly story to tell of such a pretty place as Shanklin, an -older and a choicer resort than Sandown, favoured by visitors both in -winter and summer, and with a good share of permanent residents -attracted by its charms. As in the case of Lynton and Lynmouth, Shanklin -has a double character. By the sea has sprung up a new bathing-place -with a smart esplanade, showy pier, a disfiguringly convenient lift to -the top of the cliff, and everything spick and span. The old Shanklin -behind offers a contrast in its nucleus of embowered cottages, and its -irregular High Street hugging an inland hollow, about which villas are -half-buried in blooming gardens and clumps of foliage, like the huge -myrtles that enclose the little parsonage near the churchyard in its -grove of gravestones. But for some rawer rows of houses stretching out -towards the cliff, upper Shanklin has lost little of the charm that -struck Lord Jeffrey, - -[Illustration: SHANKLIN VILLAGE--MOONLIGHT AFTER RAIN] - -when he described the village as “very small and _scattery_, all mixed -up with trees, and lying among sweet airy falls and swells of ground -which finally rise up behind the breezy Downs 800 feet high, and sink -down in front to the edge of the varying cliffs which overhang a pretty -beach of fine sand, and are approachable by a very striking wooded -ravine which they call the Chine.” - -An earlier visitor was Keats, who is understood to have written his -_Lamia_ in a cottage, not now standing, about the opening rechristened -“Keats’ Green” in honour of this sojourn, when, to tell the truth, he -wrote of the Isle of Wight as “but so, so,” though he admired the coast -from Shanklin to Bonchurch, as well he might. Longfellow, who wrote an -inscription for a fountain near his hotel, called Shanklin “one of the -quietest and loveliest places in the kingdom,” with which, indeed, his -acquaintance had not been exhaustive. - -Shanklin and Sandown, the most growing resorts of the Island of late -years, love one another like Liverpool and Manchester, like Ramsgate and -Margate, like St Paul’s and Minneapolis, and other pairs of too near -rivals for popularity. Careful parents may prefer Sandown as a place -where their youngsters will find nothing to fall off; but poetic and -artistic souls will give their vote for Shanklin, which has chalybeate -springs and elaborate baths as attraction, as well as beautiful -surroundings. Its beauty spot _par excellence_ is, of course, the Chine -above mentioned, which makes one of the shows of the Island. The -Chines, so named here and on the opposite mainland coast--but in one -part of Hampshire _Bunny_ is a less romantic title for them--are deep, -irregular ravines carved out by streams of water upon cliffs of soft -clay or sand, often sheltering a profusion of tangled vegetation, or -again, as at Bournemouth, revealing the frame of naked nature. The -Shanklin Chine, in the former variety, is by many judged the prettiest, -as it is perhaps the best known to visitors. A description of it may be -borrowed from Black’s _Guide to the Isle of Wight_. - - This popular sight, like other wonders of nature on the Island, is - enclosed, a small charge being made for admission, and in more than - one respect rather suggests the tea-garden order of resort, but - nothing can spoil it. It is to be entered at either end, but - excursion coaches usually bring their passengers to the head of the - Chine. At the top will be found a ferruginous spring. Here the - chasm is at its narrowest, increasing till it has a breadth of - nearly 300 feet, while the steep sides are in parts almost 200 feet - high. Winding walks take one for some quarter of a mile down a deep - glen, which differs notably from Blackgang Chine in being choked up - with trees and a rich undergrowth of ferns, moss, and brushwood, - wherever any shade-loving plant can take root. Into the top pours a - little waterfall, rushing to the sea at the bottom of this - wilderness of greenery. - -But even without its Chine, Shanklin would have a right to be proud of -itself. It lies at the corner of the southern range of Downs that -separate it from Ventnor and the Undercliff. Open and airy walks may be -taken on these heights; or less arduous strolls by the leafy knolls and -hollows on their flanks. One favourite ramble is to Cook’s Castle, an -artificial ruin - -[Illustration: SHANKLIN CHINE] - -upon a wooded brow commanding a fine view, whence it is a short mile to -Wroxall, the next station on the railway as it bends inland, to find -nothing for it but a tunnel through the heights that shelter Ventnor. - -From the bottom of Shanklin Chine, when the tide is out, one can follow -the coast round the fissured crags of Dunnose, on which a cliff-walk is -always open. Thus is reached Luccombe Chine, a modestly retiring scene, -not so easily found, since there is no charge for admission; but well -worth finding. Beyond this one enters the tangled wilderness of the -Landslip, through which winds a path for Bonchurch. But here we come -within the purlieus of Ventnor, and round to the “Back of the Island.” - -From the heights at this corner, one looks down upon the scene of one of -the saddest of naval disasters in our day, recorded in churchyards that -show the tombs of so many young lives. Off Dunnose was lost, in 1878, -the training ship _Eurydice_, with her company of hearty and hopeful -lads. I well remember how that Sunday afternoon the March wind blustered -on the northern heights of London. But under the lee of the Undercliff, -the homeward bound sailors hailed it as a favouring breeze; then with -ports open and under all plain canvas, the _Eurydice_ spanked on round -Dunnose, passing out of shelter of the Downs, to be taken aback by a -snow squall, that threw her on her beam-ends before the men could -shorten sail. Many of them must have been drowned as they rushed to -struggle up on deck, from which others were swept away, blinded by the -snow, or drawn down in the vortex of the sinking vessel. Three or four -came to be picked up, an hour later, by a passing collier, and only two -lived to tell the amazement of their sudden wreck, whose victims had -much the same fate as those of the _Royal George_. - - Gone in a moment! hurried headlong down - From light and hope to darkness and despair! - Plunged into utter night without renown, - Bereft of all--home, country, earth, and air-- - Without a warning, yea, without a prayer! - - - - -THE UNDERCLIFF - - -The “Back of the Island” is a familiar name given locally to the south -coast, its eastern end more widely famed as the Undercliff. All this -side is marked by sterner features and sharper outlines than the shallow -creeks and flats of the northern shore; and through its geological -history the Undercliff makes a peculiar exhibition of picturesqueness, -while by its winter climate it is one of England’s most favoured nooks. - -Here a narrow strip of shore lies for miles walled in to the north by a -steep bank several hundred feet high, sometimes presenting a rugged face -of sandstone cliff, elsewhere rising in the turf swell of chalk downs. -But the bastions of rock thus displayed rest upon a treacherous -foundation of gault clay, expressively known as the “Blue slipper,” -which, saturated with water, has given way so as to cause repeated -landslides and falls of the super-incumbent strata, tumbling the lower -slopes into a broken chaos of terraces and knolls, dotted with boulders -of chalk and sandstone. This ruin of nature has long been overgrown by -rich greenery, mantling its asperities, all the more since the charms -and mildness of the situation go to making it a much trimmed wilderness, -populated with villages and villas that turn the Undercliff into one -great garden of choice and luxuriant vegetation. - -The capital of the Undercliff is Ventnor, whose dependencies and -outposts straggle almost all along this sheltered coast-strip. Now the -most beautifully placed and the most widely admired town in the Island, -it has risen to such note within the memory of men still living. A -century ago Sir H. Englefield gives it a word as “a neat hamlet,” while -guide-books of his day do not even name it between the older villages of -St Lawrence and Bonchurch, that on either side wing its body of terraces -and zigzag streets. Its history seems illustrated in the old “Crab and -Lobster” Inn, from a modest haunt of fishermen developed into a spacious -hotel, and still more plainly in the monuments of so many a young life -close packed about its nineteenth century churches. It was Sir James -Clarke, an esteemed physician of our great-grandfathers’ day, who dubbed -Ventnor an English Madeira, and brought it into medical repute as a -rival of Torquay, both of them disputing the honour of having the -mildest winter climate in England, which probably belongs rather to the -Cornish coast, or to other claimants still wanting a _vates sacer_, that -is, a London doctor to give them bold advertisement. - -The shift in medical opinion as to the cure of consumption by pure and -dry air, however cold, must have somewhat blown upon Ventnor’s -reputation; and it may in future come to depend upon its amenities as -much as on the soft climate, now that Mentone itself seems rather shy of -its old character as a rendezvous for consumptive germs. It has a summer -as well as a winter season; but there is not much to be said for its -bathing and boating, the shore here being rougher than on the east side, -and exposed to dangerous currents. The beach before the esplanade has -been tamed a little and brought under the yoke of bathing machines. -Further along there are here and there tempting strips of sand; but -swimmers may be cautioned as to launching forth too trustfully. The same -hint applies to boating, this coast being best navigated with the help -of someone who knows its reefs and eddies. Ventnor visitors are more -ready to make jaunts on land than by sea; and in fine weather their -favourite amusement is supplied by the coaches, brakes, and other -vehicles which carry them to all parts of the Island. There are daily -excursions in the season to Freshwater, Cowes, and other remote points; -besides morning and afternoon trips to Blackgang, Shanklin, and such -nearer goals; and the stranger will have much ado to deny the -insinuating recruiters who at every corner of the High Street lie in -wait to enlist him for their crew of pleasure-seekers. - -The strong point of the town is its picturesque site, which, indeed, -implies the defects of its qualities, having been termed “fit for -kangaroos” by some short-winded critic. Nature never meant herself here -to be laid out in streets, and eligible plots of building land have to -be taken as they can be found on the steep slope. This fact, however -favourable to scenic effect, proves a little trying to those feeble folk -who make so large a part of the population. Communication with the -different levels of the town, where the climate varies according to -their degree of elevation and protection, has to be effected by steep -stairs, winding ascents, and devious roads; and often one’s goal seems -provokingly near, while it turns out to be tiresomely far by the only -available access. One thoroughfare is so precipitous that a railing has -been provided for the aid of those risking its descent. The twisting -High Street debouches into a hollow, prettily laid out, about which are -the most sheltered parts of the town. Here stands the pier with its -shelters and pavilion; and a short esplanade curves round the little bay -to a rocky point, from which other zigzags remount to the higher -quarters. There has been a proposal to extend this esplanade along the -Bonchurch side of the shore, where the gasworks certainly do not form a -very pleasant or convenient obstruction; but on the whole it appears -better to leave Ventnor as it is. Its great charm consists of being as -unlike as possible to the general type of seaside resorts; and its -irregular architecture, wilful roads, and provoking impasses are at -least in harmony with each other. - -Let us see how it strikes a stranger--Mr W. D. Howells, to wit--on a -recent visit. - - The lovely little town, which is like an English water-colour, for - the rich, soft blur of its greys and blues and greens, has a sea at - its feet of an almost Bermudian variety of rainbow tints, and a - milky horizon all its own, with the sails of fishing-boats drowning - in it like moths that had got into the milk. The streets rise in - amphitheatrical terraces from the shore, and where they cease to - have the liveliness of watering-place shops, they have the - domesticity of residential hotels and summer boarding-houses, and - private villas set in depths of myrtle and holly and oleander and - laurel: some of the better-looking houses were thatched, perhaps to - satisfy a sentiment for rusticity in the summer boarder or tenant. - -But this appreciative stranger is a little at sea in freely dashing into -his sketch a background of “seats and parks of nobility and gentry,” -which seems somewhat of an American exaggeration for the villaed skirts -of Ventnor. The most lordly “seat” about Ventnor is Steephill Castle, at -the west end, from the tower of which flaunts his own Stars and Stripes -to proclaim it the home of a compatriot who must have reason to chuckle, -as he does in a volume of memoirs, that slow, simple, honest John Bull -now wakes up to let himself be exploited by Transatlantic enterprise. -This gentleman’s daughter was the late popular novelist “John Oliver -Hobbes,” who latterly lived much here, or in the neighbourhood. The -modern castle, that has housed an empress in its time, took the place of -a cottage of gentility built by Hans Stanley, George III.’s Governor of -the Island. It formerly belonged to the Hamborough family, whose heir -met with his death in a painful way, that gave rise to what was known -as the Ardlamont murder case. - -The trustees of this family have lately been at loggerheads with the -Ventnor people as to enclosing the links by the shore. Part of the cliff -here, however, has been acquired as a prettily unconventional public -park, laid out with playing greens beneath its leafy mazes and airy -walks. At this end, opposite the west gate of the park, is the station -of the mid-island line, distinguished as “Ventnor Town,” whereas -“Ventnor” station of the older east coast rail stands so high above the -sea that access to it suggests the “stations” of a pilgrimage. The last -time I was in Ventnor, I had the pleasure of being able to assist some -countrywomen of Mr Howell’s whom I found fluttering in breathless doubt -between those two confusing goals, that ought to be joined by some kind -of mountain railway. - -One advantage of having attained the upper station, is that here one is -half-way up the steep bank rising behind Ventnor to be the highest point -of the Island, nearly 800 feet. This down bears the name of St Boniface, -in honour of whom passing ships used to lower their topsails. The ridge -is reached by chalky paths from a road near the station, and from other -approaches at the top of the town; and however stuffy the air may be -below, the perspiring climber will not fail to find invigoration on the -open crest. For goal of the ascent, there is a wishing-well, as to which -old tradition has it that, if you reach the spot, Orpheus-like, without -casting a backward glance, the wish you may form while drinking of its -welcome spring will speedily be fulfilled. Certainly no finer view could -be wished for than one gains from the summit and along a wide stretch of -rambles on either hand. Holding on round a horse-shoe hollow, one may -turn down on the right to Shanklin; or, in the other direction, crossing -the rail and road to Ryde at Wroxall, pass over to the heights of -Appuldurcombe, where the Worsley monument makes a beacon. Hence another -lofty sweep brings one back to Ventnor by Week Down and Rew Down, used -as a golf ground, which must try the strength of elderly devotees on -their preliminary ascent to the clubhouse, standing out like an Alpine -chapel. - -The stiff-kneed pilgrim who has not heart for such arduosities, may -follow the road along the face of St Boniface Down, or the sea-walk -below, to Bonchurch, that choice and lovely east-end of Ventnor, -clustered round a pond, overhung by a rich bank of foliage. The mildness -of the climate is attested by huge arbutus growths, recalling those of -Killarney, by fuchsias like trees, with trunks as thick as a strong -man’s wrist, and by scarlet geraniums of such exuberance that a single -plant will cover several square yards of wall in front of a house. This -one fact, more than any word-painting, gives an idea of the way in which -Bonchurch, and indeed most parts of Ventnor, are embowered by foliage. -In all sorts of odd nooks, either nestling against the steep wall of the -Undercliff, or hiding away in its leafy hollows, perch the picturesque -cottages and handsome villas that have attracted only too many -neighbours. The road is much shut in between walls of private grounds, -within which are enclosed some of the finest spots, such as the “Pulpit -Rock,” a projecting mass of sandstone marked by a cross, and another -known as the “Flagstaff Rock.” - -Threading our way between these forbidden paradises, the road would take -us up by the new Church with its sadly beautiful graveyard. A lane turns -steeply downwards past the old church, now disused, one of the many -smallest churches in England, that has the further note of being the -sole wholly Norman structure in the Island. Here are buried the Rev. W. -Adams, author of the _Shadow of the Cross_, and John Sterling, Carlyle’s -friend, who came to die at Hillside, now a boarding-house near the upper -station at Ventnor. Another literary celebrity who lived here was -Elizabeth Sewell, whose _Amy Herbert_ and other edifying novels were so -popular in her own generation; and in one of them, _Ursula_, she has -described the scenery about her home. - -The old church is said to be now in danger of slipping down towards the -sea. Below it, one descends to Monks’ Bay, traditional landing-place of -the French Benedictines who made themselves once so much at home on the -Island, as their spiritual descendants are doing now. The sea-walk -round - -[Illustration: BONCHURCH OLD CHURCH, NEAR VENTNOR] - -this bay leads into the Landslip, so called _par excellence_, as the -rawest and wildest disturbance of the Undercliff, its last fall being -not yet a century old. This wilderness of overgrown knolls and hillocks, -tumbled from the crags above, is not to be equalled on our south coast -unless by the similar chaos near Lyme Regis, whose broken and bosky -charms have been stirred into fresh picturesqueness by slips of more -recent date. Over daisied turf one here takes a twisting path that leads -by banks of bracken and bramble into thickets of gnarled thorn and other -blossoming shade, half-burying green mounds and grey boulders in a -tangle where one would soon lose oneself but for occasional glimpses of -the sea below, or for running upon the wall of a private enclosure -behind, guide for the wanderer in his descent towards Luccombe Chine, -who can also ascend to the cliff-walk for Shanklin. The scene is thus -described by Thomas Webster, a geologist who visited it a century ago, -while the first convulsion was still fresh, before the last slip of 1818 -came to make confusion worse confounded. - - A considerable portion of the cliff had fallen down, strewing the - whole of the ground between it and the sea with its ruins; huge - masses of solid rock started up amidst heaps of smaller fragments; - whilst immense quantities of loose marl, mixed with stones, and - even the soil above with the wheat still growing on it, filled up - the spaces between, and formed hills of rubbish which are scarcely - accessible. Nothing had resisted the force of the falling rocks. - Trees were levelled with the ground, and many lay half buried in - the ruins. The streams were choked up, and pools of water were - formed in many places. Whatever road or path formerly existed - through this place had been effaced; and with some difficulty I - passed over this avalanche, which extended many hundred yards. - Proceeding eastwards, the whole of the soil seemed to have been - moved, and was filled with chasms and bushes lying in every - direction. The intricate and rugged path became gradually less - distinct, and soon divided into mere sheep tracks, leading into an - almost impenetrable thicket. I perceived, however, on my left hand, - the lofty wall of rock which belonged to the same stratum as the - Undercliff, softened in its rugged character by the foliage which - grew in its fissures, and still preserving some remains of its - former picturesque beauty. Neglect, and the unfortunate accident - which had lately happened, had now altered the features of this - once delightful spot; and I was soon bewildered among rocks, - streams of water, tangling thorns, and briars. - -The labyrinth between Luccombe and Bonchurch was not the only landslip -in modern times; and though there is believed to be little fear of any -further serious disturbance, occasional falls of rock are a warning how -this gracious ruin of nature might be renewed. _The_ Landslip here[3] -makes to my mind the _bouquet_ of the whole Undercliff, whose similar -features, on an ampler scale, of older wrinkles, and usually more veiled -by the work of man, stretch for miles westward along a rugged platform -varying up to half a mile in width. Words but feebly paint the charms of -a miniature Riviera, its broken land-waves foaming into groves, gardens, -and tangles of shrubbery. Between the wall of downs and cliff-buttresses -shutting it in to the north, and the sea dashing at its foot, the -foliage runs as rank as in a giant’s greenhouse, beautifully - -[Illustration: THE LANDSLIP NEAR VENTNOR] - -displayed by the accidents of the irregularly sloping ground. - - Crags, knolls, and mounds confusedly hurl’d, - The fragments of an earlier world. - -This line of cliffs may indeed remind us of the Trossachs, with one side -opened out to the sun and a richer vegetation at its base. Hawthorns, -elders, and other bushes grow here to a huge height, dappling the green -of the woods with their blossoms. Myrtle and other semi-tropical plants -flourish hardily; everywhere there are flowers prodigal as weeds, -notably the red Valerian flourishing on walls and broken edges. Huge -boulders are half hidden in ivy, heaps of old ruins are buried in almost -impassable thickets. It is hard to say when the huge bank of greenery is -most beautiful--whether in spring with all its blossoms and tender buds; -or in summer wearing its full glory of leafage; or again in autumn -brilliant with changing tints and spangled by bright berries: even in -winter there are evergreens enough to make us forget the cold winds -banished from this cosy nook. The one blot on such a paradise seems the -many notices to trespassers, warning that its most tempting nooks are -“private,” or the still more ominous placards of “valuable building land -to let on lease.” - -The Bonchurch Landslip must be traversed on foot. On the other side of -Ventnor, a good road winds up and down beneath the inland heights, from -the edge of which one better sees how many houses and gardens are -hidden away here in their own greenery. Other aspects are presented from -a path rising and falling along the broken cliffs of the shore. The -road, in fine weather, will be astir with coaches, brakes, and other -wheels making for Blackgang Chine, that renowned goal of excursions from -all over the Island. Beyond Steephill Castle, it leads through St -Lawrence, the western, as Bonchurch is the eastern wing of Ventnor. - -St Lawrence, known to guide-books that used to pass Ventnor Cove without -a word, has another of the smallest churches in England, now replaced by -a new one. The old church, till slightly enlarged by Lord Yarborough, -measured twenty feet by twelve under a roof which must have obliged a -tall knight to doff his helmet. Its saint, like St Boniface, gave his -name to a well now enclosed under a Gothic arch. But the great -institution of the parish, standing in a long terrace by the roadside, -is the Hospital for Consumption, which Ventnor people insist on as being -at St Lawrence, just as Woking pushes off the honour of the Brookwood -Cemetery. There was a time when this model hospital made an -advertisement for Ventnor; now new notions as to germ-infection tend to -scare away more profitable guests than its patients, who might be -expected to fall off under new theories of treatment for consumption, -but the building has had a recent addition in memory of Prince Henry of -Battenberg. - -We are now among mansions and cottages of thick-set gentility, the -nucleus of which was a villa built by Sir R. Worsley, who made the -hardly successful experiment of planting a vineyard here. The oldest -structure seems to be a little ivy-clad ruin at Woolverton on the shore, -as to the character of which antiquaries for once have differed like -doctors, while its antiquity, like that of the old church, offers -hopeful promise for the permanence of modern buildings on these oft-torn -slopes. But we must not stop to speak of every house on this road, nor -of every private pleasance like that known to Swinburne-- - - The shadowed lawns, the shadowing pines, the ways - That wind and wander through a world of flowers, - The radiant orchard where the glad sun’s gaze - Dwells, and makes most of all his happiest hours; - The field that laughs beneath the cliff that towers, - The splendour of the slumber that enthralls - With sunbright peace the world within their walls, - Are symbols yet of years that love recalls. - -On one hand, ascents like the “Cripple Path” would lead us to fine -prospects from the cliff-brow, while below, we might seek out Puckaster -Cove, or the Buddle Inn near a good stretch of sand, such as is rather -exceptional hereabouts, where fragments of the destruction above are -found trailing out into the sea to form dangerous reefs. One theory -makes Puckaster the Roman tin-shipping port; and it certainly proved a -haven of refuge for Charles II. in a storm, as recorded in a -neighbouring parish-register. Along the broken slope, the high-road -takes us as described by William Black, who has caught the -characteristic features of so many English scenes. - - There was a great quiet prevailing along these southern shores. - They drove by underneath the tall and crumbling precipices, with - wood-pigeons suddenly shooting out from the clefts, and jackdaws - wheeling about far up in the blue. They passed by sheltered woods, - bestarred with anemones and primroses, and showing here and there - the purple of the as yet half-opened hyacinth; they passed by lush - meadows, all ablaze with the golden yellow of the celandine and the - purple of the ground-ivy; they passed by the broken, picturesque - banks where the tender blue of the speedwell was visible from time - to time, with the white glimmer of the star-wort. And then all this - time they had on their left a gleaming and wind-driven sea, full of - motion, and light, and colour, and showing the hurrying shadows of - the flying clouds. - -The goal of Black’s party was the Sandrock Hotel, prettily situated by -the roadside at Undercliff Niton, which has a chalybeate spring, and -near it some local worthy thought desirable to erect a small shrine to -the memory of Shakespeare, anticipating the more pretentious monument by -which he is now to be glorified in London. From this seaside outpost -turns off the way to the inland village of Niton, lying behind in a -break of the chalk heights. It has been distinguished from Knighton by -the sobriquet of Crab Niton, “a distinction which the inhabitants do not -much relish, and therefore it will be impolitic to employ it,” as a -venerable guide-book very prudently suggests; and Knighton being -nowadays little more than a name, strangers will find no inconvenience -in taking that hint. The place boasts at least one sojourner of note, as -we learn from the - -[Illustration: THE UNDERCLIFF NEAR VENTNOR] - -tomb of Edward Edwards, leader of the Free Public Library movement that -has now so many monuments all over the country. - -The parish of Niton is a large one, containing the head springs of the -Medina and of the eastern Yar, which the well-greaved adventurer might -hence try to track across the Island to their not very distant mouths. -More otiose travellers will find a road passing under St Catherine’s -Down for Newport and the central parts. From the sturdy church tower -with its low spire, a lane leads up to the top of the Down, whence we -could take a wide view of our wanderings, backwards and forwards. And -here, since we are almost at the end of the Undercliff, let us break off -to survey the longer but less famed stretch of this coast, westwards, -under its more comprehensive title. - - - - -THE BACK OF THE ISLAND - - -Our Pisgah for this stage is St Catherine’s Down, once held the highest -point of the Island, but now dethroned, like Ben Macdhui, in favour of -the Ben Nevis of St Boniface. It appears that in Georgian days Week Down -was charged with hiding Shanklin Down from the view of St Catherine’s, -as is no longer the case, the moral being that one or other of these -heights has been raised or depressed, as may well have happened to -superstructures upon so slippery foundation. In such a question of -measurements, at all events, “the self-styled science of the so-called -nineteenth century” with its more elaborate observations, gives a surer -title to eminence. But St Catherine’s is only a few feet lower than the -ridge above Ventnor; and from it, too, a fine prospect may be had, -ranging over the Isle of Wight to the heights of the mainland, and -across the Channel to the French coast in clear weather. - -This broad and steep block of down is well provided with landmarks. On -the inland side a tall pillar was erected by a Russian merchant, in -honour of the Czar Alexander’s visit to England after the fall of -Napoleon; which monument a later generation very inappropriately adorned -with a memorial of our soldiers fallen in the Crimean War. On the top -are the restored remains of a chapel, where in old days a hermit-priest -made himself truly useful by keeping a light burning to warn mariners -off this stormy coast, and chanting prayers for their safety. A less -pious legend attributes the building of the old beacon here to a layman -amerced in such a penalty for having stored his cellars with wine sold -him by shipwrecked sailors, a class not very scrupulous as to owner’s -rights-- - - Full many a draught of wine had he y-draw - From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep: - Of nicé conscience took he no keep. - -Hard by is a later ruin to show how a lighthouse was designed in the -eighteenth century, but a practical age gave up the attempt to rear a -pharos on this cloudy height. Experience since then has gone to show -that a lighthouse serves its end better at the water’s edge than on -commanding cliffs like Beachy Head and Portland Point, from both of -which the old beacons have lately been moved to a lower level. - -St Catherine’s Lighthouse stands on the point of that ilk, the most -southerly projection of the Island, where it has Lloyd’s signal station -for neighbour. Its recently intensified electric light is said to be the -most powerful in the world, every few seconds flashing over the sea a -beam of concentrated glare equal to millions of candles. It is also -equipped with a fog-horn, whose hoarse note of warning resounds for -miles, not altogether to the satisfaction of neighbours safe on land. -Yet they may take comfort to think how this screech is more fearsomely -disquieting when heard at sea. I once had such a note ringing in my ears -for two days together running through a chill fog off Newfoundland, with -icebergs about us that could be felt but not seen. Our boat was one of -the few that have crushed into an iceberg and crawled to land with the -tale; then to keep us cheerful we had on board a survivor of that -adventure, the perils whereof it pleased him to depict as looming -through a somewhat befogged imagination. - -Another of our fellow-passengers was an American gentleman, who in -Europe had been qualifying himself to come out as an opera tenor. He was -coy of giving us a specimen of his talent, till one night we persuaded -him to begin _Ah, che la morte!_ But at once the officer of the watch -stepped up to silence him, explaining that his singing might drown the -sound of fog-horns. The vocalist was much offended at his organ being -coupled with a fog-horn; and I fear I gave him fresh offence by -suggesting “Signor Fogorno” as a suitable _nom de guerre_, when he -consulted me as to Italianising his rather commonplace patronymic. But -that careful officer was right, if the story be true that a German liner -ran ashore on the back of the Island because her own brass band deafened -her to the warning note that surely should have drowned all sweeter -sounds. And if our insulted tenor had known it, this artificial organ -has a very old theatrical connection, for _persona_ seems the earliest -form of such a sounding contrivance, originally a megaphonic mouthpiece -fitted to a mask which, as one of the classical stage properties, came -to denote the personage thus represented; and in time the name gained -respectability as the person or parson of a parish, who more or less -loudly warned his convoy of souls from the rocks and shoals of -ill-doing. - -A different kind of signal would be keenly watched for in days when the -storm of Napoleon’s invasion was expected to burst upon our shores; and -on all prominent points beacons were kept ready to spread the alarm of -the enemy’s approach. The Isle of Wight was fully on the alert, -remembering how often it had been a vulnerable point in mail-clad wars -with France, though one would think that the bugbear, Boney, knew his -business too well to seek a difficult landing in an island, beyond which -he would be brought up by a dangerous channel, a strong arsenal, and a -naval rendezvous. It is said that the signalman at St Catherine’s, -probably having drunk the king’s health too freely in smuggled spirits, -mistook some fishing-boats for a French fleet, and lighted his beacon to -set men mustering in arms and women and children flying for refuge to -Newport. Sir Walter Scott tells us how the same sort of blunder stirred -a great part of Scotland. But on one side of the Island the scare did -not spread far, since the watcher at Freshwater very sensibly reasoned -that the wind then blowing would keep this coast clear of hostile ships, -and forbore to pass on the alarm. - -Before the building of St Catherine’s lighthouse in 1840, shipwrecks -were terribly common on the Island. A famous one was that of the -_Clarendon_ West India-man, in 1836. Fourteen vessels in one night are -said to have gone ashore on Chale Bay. This is no coast for amateur -mariners. One is warned also against bathing as dangerous hereabouts, -yet I, unconscious, have swum below Blackgang in my hot youth; while in -cooler age I echo the caution. The hero of _Maud_, whose haunts we are -now approaching, would sometimes have been all the better and wiser for -a morning dip to cool his fevered brow; but he was not so much out of -conceit with life as to venture a bathe-- - - Listening now to the tide in its broad-flung, shipwrecking roar, - Now to the scream of a maddened beach dragged down by the wave. - ---a sound which, Tennyson states, can sometimes be heard nine miles -inland. - -Chale Bay, in which is Blackgang Chine, opens on the west side of St -Catherine’s Point, where, at Rocken End, the Undercliff seems tumbling -into the sea in a chaos of blocks of chalk and sandstone stormed upon by -the waves with freshly ruinous fury. Above, on the side of St -Catherine’s Down, the scenery alters from nests of Riviera greenery to -bare - -[Illustration: BLACKGANG CHINE] - -slopes broken by huge boulders and scars, that expose the geological -structure of the Downs to a spectacled eye. Here a slip of 100 acres -happened at the end of the eighteenth century; and the masterful -south-west blasts keep the ruin still somewhat raw, not skinned over as -in more sheltered nooks. The road, passing out of shade, makes a -Switzerlandish turn under the cliffs, as it descends to Blackgang Chine, -the final goal of lion-hunters on this route. - -Entrance to the so much sought sight is through a sort of museum or -bazaar, where one must either buy something or frankly pay sixpence. -This reminds me of a visit to Pompeii more than forty years -ago--_eheu!_--when the soldier who conducted me seemed strangely -officious in repeatedly declaring that he was not entitled to any tip; -but, he added, “I have some photographs to sell.” There are those who -hint darkly at illicit entrances by which the unprincipled or -impecunious can smuggle themselves into Blackgang Chine without paying -or buying anything; but considerate visitors will not grudge a toll for -use of the walks and steps that open up the recesses of this great -chasm, through which echoes the boom of waves breaking on the beach -below. It differs from the Shanklin Chine in being not overgrown with -greenery, but showing through its nakedness the various _viscera_ of -greenish-grey sand and dark ferruginous clay that charm the geologist. -Description may not prove “up-to-date,” as the weather-worn sides -crumble away from year to year; yet Sir Henry Englefield’s account is -still to be quoted after more than a century. - - No vegetation clothes any part of this rude hollow, whose flanks - are in a state of continual decay. They are mostly composed of very - dark blue clay, through which at intervals run horizontal strata of - bright yellow sandstone, about 12 or 15 feet thick, which naturally - divide into square blocks, and have exactly the appearance of vast - courses of masonry built at different heights to sustain the - mouldering hill. What has been hitherto described may be called the - upper part of the chine, for on descending to the seashore we find - that the stratum of ironstone already mentioned, forms a cornice - from whose edge the rill falls perpendicularly 74 feet. As the - substratum is of a softer material than the ironstone, being a - black indurated clay, the action of the fall has worn it into a - hollow, shining with a dusky polish from damp, and stained with the - deep greens of aquatic lichens, or the ferruginous tinge of - chalybeate exudations. The silver thread of water which falls - through the air in the front of this singular cove is, when the - wind blows fresh, twisted into most fantastic and waving curves; - and not seldom caught by the eddy and carried up unbroken to a - height greater than that from whence it fell, and at last - dissipated into mist. When a south-west wind creates a heavy swell - on the shore, the echo of the sound of the waves in this gloomy - recess is truly astonishing, and has exactly the effect of a deep - subterraneous roar issuing from the bottom of the cave. When sudden - heavy rains or the melting of snows increase the quantity of water - in the fall, the scenery of this spot must be more striking than - most in England. - -Half a mile behind Blackgang Chine lies the village of Chale, whose grey -church tower stands among the grass-grown graves of many a drowned -mariner, that seem an imitation in miniature of the half-buried rocks -and mounds of the Undercliff. Chale is a resort on its small scale, with -some good old houses and fine scenes to attract visitors, not to speak -of a chalybeate well on the strength of which the place once aspired to -become a spa; and Dr Dabbs’ opinion is emphatic that its bracing air -deserves a success Chale has not yet commanded in rivalry to Shanklin or -Ventnor. Its patients may at least make sure of having their fill of the -south-west wind, that gives such a leeward lurch to hardier trees now -that they are out of shelter in the Undercliff’s sun-trap. - -Westward, the shore has openings known as Walpen Chine, Ladder Chine, -and Whale Chine, which are as notable as Blackgang in their way, but not -so famous; and several others yawn more obscurely on the coast line to -Freshwater. Some couple of miles beyond Chale, a name of grim notoriety -is Atherfield Point, where many vessels have been lost on its dangerous -ledge, like the German Lloyd _Eider_, in 1892, that grounded in a fog, -all hands being saved, and the steamer remaining stuck fast for weeks, -so as to give this neighbourhood the excitement without the horror of a -great shipwreck. In bad old days the people of Chale had an evil name as -wreckers, luring poor seamen to destruction by deceptive lights, and not -sticking at murder as a prelude to robbery, since the law held the death -of the survivors to extinguish their title in what goods might be -salved. - -From Chale, the seaboard opens out for a stretch of some ten miles along -the Back of the Island, a part not so well known to strangers, unless as -hurrying by on their way to Freshwater. But the path along the rough -shore edge is full of points of interest, especially to the geologist, -who, from exposures of the green-sand formation passes on to mottled -earthy cliffs of the Wealden age, then again finds sand pressed down by -masses of chalk. Behind, runs a silent military road made to link the -Island defences, which is not altogether passable for wheels; indeed the -Freshwater end of it has tumbled into the sea. The usual driving-road -turns inland to pass through the villages below the Downs, which now -draw back a mile or two from the beach. Let us, then, follow Edmund -Peel, the poet of this _Fair Isle_. - - Back from the brink and rest the stagger’d eye - On the green mound, whose western slope reveals - A landscape tranquil as the deep blue sky, - Of hill and dale a rich variety, - Down over down, vale winding into vale, - Where peaceful villages imbosom’d lie, - And halls manorial, from green-swarded Chale, - To Brixton’s fruitful glebe and Brooke’s delicious dale. - -Behind Chale, by the outlying Chale Green near the head of the Medina, -is reached the tiny village of Kingston with its tiny and picturesquely -perched Church, some half-dozen miles south of Newport. The road to -Freshwater turns west, soon reaching Shorwell, in its setting of -unusually rich woods, from which rises the spire of the Church, notable -for very curious and striking features, as for its show of Leigh -monuments, a once obliterated wall-painting, and other relics. Its -vestry preserves the Gun Chamber, - -[Illustration: SHORWELL] - -in which several of these Island churches once kept a cannon for defence -of the coast. This village is said to have won Queen Victoria’s special -admiration, as well it might. - -Two miles on, comes another pretty place, Brixton _alias_ Brighstone, -very unlike its metropolitan namesake, with a goodly Church that counts -among former parsons Bishops Ken, Samuel Wilberforce, and Moberley. In -the beautiful garden of the parsonage, Ken is said to have composed his -far-sung Morning and Evening Hymns; and a tree is shown here under which -Wilberforce wrote his _Agathos_. Hence one can descend to the shore by -Grange Chine, which the military road crosses by a lofty viaduct; or -over the Downs goes the road to Calbourne, the nearest station on the -Freshwater line. - -The next village on the road is Mottistone, from whose too much restored -Church, a steep, shady lane leads up to the Mote Stone, or Long Stone, a -block of ferruginous sandstone 13 feet high, with a smaller one fallen -beside it, seeming to have both made part of an ancient cromlech; but -this is said to have served as a mote or public meeting-place, while a -natural legend sees here the stones of a diabolic and angelic -putting-match on St Catherine’s Down. These high downs were a favourite -prehistoric burying place; and several barrows hereabouts have been -excavated by a generation whose _tumuli_ have shrunk to the tees of -golf. The Tudor manor-house, beside Mottistone Church, is one of the -best of the picturesque old structures of that period, which in this -corner of the Island have not been so much shouldered off by -spick-and-span villas. - -Leaving the road, beyond the hamlet of Hulverston one can pass down to -the shore by Brook, which has a chine to show, and a fossil forest on -the west side of Brook Point, explained by the geologist Mantell as -having “originated in a raft composed of a prostrate pine-forest, -transported from a distance by the river which flowed through the -country whence the Wealden deposits were derived, and became submerged -in the sand and mud of the delta, burying with it the bones of reptiles, -mussel-shells, and other extraneous bodies it had gathered in its -course.... Many of the stems are concealed and protected by the fuci, -corallines, and zoophytes which here thrive luxuriantly, and occupy the -place of the lichens and other parasitical plants with which the now -petrified trees were doubtlessly invested when flourishing in their -native forests, and affording shelter to the Iguanodon and other -gigantic reptiles.” The beach yields pretty pebbles; and huge fossils -have been found in the cliffs hereabouts. - -Hence the military road skirts Compton Bay, upon which the Downs close -in again with a steep slope of chalk that makes no safe play-place for -children, especially when the turf is slippery after long drought, a -caution enforced by the monument to a poor boy who fell here sixty years -ago. Beyond Afton Down, at the west end of Compton Bay, the little -esplanade of Freshwater marks a new division of the Island, which, -indeed, but for this much strained isthmus, would have made two -islands. - - - - -FRESHWATER AND THE NEEDLES - - -At the south-western corner of the Island comes a cleft in the Central -Downs, through which the little Yar flows across the narrowed end from -Freshwater Gate, or Gap, whose name seems to denote the peculiar fact of -a river having its source by the seashore, so near that in rough weather -salt water is said to be washed into the stream. Through that hollow the -spray of the waves can from north and south meet across the three miles -of land; and unless something be done to protect such a weak spot, it -appears that before long this promontory may be cut off from the Island, -as itself was from the mainland by rushing Solent tides. The War Office, -as one of the chief occupiers, is understood to have been more than -indifferent about the sea getting its way in making the nest of forts -here a miniature of the whole kingdom-- - - Fortress, built by nature for herself - Against infection or the hand of war. - -In Charles I’s. reign it was indeed proposed to insulate this corner -artificially as a citadel of defence. Private owners and tenants, for -their part, are inclined to plans for forming some kind of breakwater, -where the tiny esplanade of Freshwater is battered by every gale. Local -authorities have been calling on the Hercules aid of a Royal Commission; -and as a beginning of defence, the Board of Trade has forbidden -Freshwater Bay being used by reckless neighbours for a quarry of -shingle. - -Into the nook beyond, crossed each way in an hour’s walk, is packed some -of the finest scenery of the Island--the finest of all, some will say, -who find the rich charms of the Undercliff more cloying. On the south -side the Downs raise their steep wall of chalk to drop into the sea at -the Needles point, round which the inner coast shows a more varied line -of cliff. Between lies a huddle of very pleasant rurality, bowery lanes, -hedgerow paths, thatched cottages, and thick-set hamlets, that in the -very breath of the sea recall the most characteristic aspects of the -green heart of England. Even the new Church has a thatched roof. But -this corner, while more out of the way and the taste of trippers, is a -good deal given up to Mars, whose temples here are forts and -public-houses. Also it is swept by a bombardment of golf balls, which -has caused punsters to suggest that this end of the Island as well as -the eastern deserves the name of _Fore_land. - -Freshwater itself is a modestly diffused village, which copies modern -military tactics in taking very open order against the assaults of time. -The main body of the place stands loosely ranked some way back from the -shore, to which it throws out an advanced work held against wind and -waves by hotels and a picket of bathing-machines; then a chain of -rearward outposts connects it with the railway station a mile or so -inland. Here the rebuilt Church, with its trappings of antiquity, makes -a rallying point for hamlets in the rear, bearing such by-names as -School Green, Pound Green, Sheepwash Green and Norton, beyond which the -forts on the north side, among their bivouacs of camp followers, are -mixed up with lines of new building, in summer garrisoned by -holiday-makers on the bathing beaches of Totland Bay and Colwell Bay. - -The road from the station to the esplanade passes by a mansion hidden in -“a carelessly ordered garden” among thick trees, “close to the ridge of -a noble down,” where - - Groves of pine on either hand - To break the blast of winter, stand; - And further on, the hoary Channel - Tumbles a breaker on chalk and sand. - -The house is more closely sheltered by fine growths like the -Wellingtonia planted by Garibaldi, the great cedar, “sighing for -Lebanon,” and the grand ilex, also made evergreen by one who was a -“lover of trees.” For this is Farringford, famous as the home of -Tennyson for more than half his life, and the sojourn of so many -contemporary celebrities, guests at his house or at his neighbour Mr -Cameron’s, a retired Indian official, whose wife became so notable - -[Illustration: FARRINGFORD HOUSE] - -by her influence over “Alfred,” by her unconventionally generous -impulses, and by her skill in the then young art of photography. Later -on the Camerons disappear from their renowned friend’s story, going to -die in Ceylon; but all along flit across the page names of renown in -both continents, Maurice, Jowett, Sir Henry Taylor, G. F. Watts, -Browning, Longfellow, Lowell, O. W. Holmes, and others drawn by the same -magnet to this shore. - -The mellifluous poet, so dear to his intimates, failed to make himself -universally popular in the Island, whose inhabitants were not all able -to appreciate him. There is the amusing case of a fly-driver who could -not understand the squire of Farringford’s greatness. “Why, they only -keep one man, and he doesn’t sleep in the house!” But that some -residents could value their illustrious neighbour is shown by another -story of a visitor arriving when the house was in a confusion of -unpacking, and being kept waiting in the hall till he was recognised as -the Prince Consort. - -It is pretty well understood that he who figures too much as an -alabaster saint in his official biography, had an earthier side to his -nature. His gloomy moods and sensitive shyness sometimes broke out in -fits of ill-humour, such as caused Mrs Cameron to remonstrate with him -on behalf of a friend of hers found trespassing on his domain, who had -come expecting to “see a lion, not a bear.” While he shrank in almost -morbid horror from peeping pilgrims, he pointed himself out to their -gaze by a picturesque “get up,” as to which one of his favoured -grandchildren is said to have bluntly asked him, “If you don’t like -people to look at you, why do you wear that queer hat and cloak?” I have -a story to tell which has not yet, I think, been in print, but was -vouched for by one of those concerned. As the Poet-laureate, with his -friends Palgrave and Woolner, the sculptor, were walking through a -village, irreverent urchins, having no fear of he-or she-bears, ran -after them with the cry “Old Jew!”--“Poor Palgrave’s nose!” Tennyson -whispered to Woolner, while Palgrave, for his part, presently took the -opportunity of an aside to their companion, “That’s what Tennyson gets -by dressing himself up in such a way!” - -Another story of Tennyson’s manners reached me in two pieces, at a long -interval, each dovetailing into each other. I knew a kind and gentle -lady who venerated all genius, and especially his who was the flower of -Victorian literature. Many years ago she told me, how being invited to -see the University boat-race from George Macdonald’s house at -Hammersmith, she found herself beside an unknown gentleman of her own -mature age, to whom she remarked that it would be well if a window could -be opened. He turned his back on her without a word and walked out of -the room, which he would not enter again. To her dismay, my friend heard -that this was the Poet-laureate, who did not like to be spoken to. She -went to her grave hardly able to forgive herself for having unwittingly -hurt such a man. Many years afterwards, on his coming to be buried at -Westminster, another friend told me how in her girlhood, she was at -George Macdonald’s boat-race party, when Tennyson was so offended at -being spoken to by an old lady, that he shut himself up in a separate -room, to which she was sent with some food for him, in the hope that a -mere child might be a David to the mood of Saul; and that he spoke very -crossly to her because she had forgotten to bring the mustard. - -Why tell such tales? it may be asked by those who remember how Tennyson -looked forward with horror to his weaknesses being exposed to the public -eye. Because a great man’s life cannot be kept private; and no picture -of him is of value with all the warts painted out. Those who knew the -poet agree that he had rough ways and some coarse tastes singularly in -contrast with the “saccharinity ineffable” which certain tart critics of -another generation distaste in his verse. Those who knew him best are -most emphatic as to the essential nobility of character that for them -veiled all short-comings. The main interest of his life, as a human -document, is that a man who had such faults should by force of genius -have been able to transmute them into lessons of purity, courtesy, and -charity, that will shine all the brighter as rays of a soul not -“faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null.” And there will be -an end to all fruitful biography, if the “good taste” so much admired by -this generation is to overlay truth. Who would read the memoirs of a -former age if they represented Samuel Johnson as a model of polite -elegance, Goldsmith of practical common sense, and Wilkes of untarnished -public spirit. So, without wanting in honest admiration for the greatest -poet of my time, I protest against the conspiracy of silence by which he -has been raised to a House of Lords among the immortals, his old cloak -and hat forgotten in ermine and coronet, and his strong tobacco and -full-bodied port glorified as nectar and ambrosia. - -But if there were some to find the poet no more than a man, and others -to regret that he let his world-wide fame be obfuscated in such a title -as is sold to a prosperous brewer or money-broker, all tongues are at -one in praise of the gentle lady still remembered as a devoted wife, as -a friendly neighbour, and as an open-handed mistress of the manor. To -William Allingham, Tennyson reported the character given of them by an -ex-servant: “She is an angel--but he, why he’s only a public writer!” -Many a tear was shed when, after long suffering, Lady Tennyson came to -rest in the churchyard of Freshwater, her husband lying apart among our -renowned dead. Within the Church are memorials of their second son -Lionel, whose promising career was cut short by fever in the far East, -and he found a hasty grave on a sun-blighted island of the Red Sea. - -The bard whose “lucky rhymes to him were scrip and share” indeed, while -more than one of his publishers dropped off “flaccid and drained,” was -able later on to build himself a retreat on the Sussex wilds of -Blackdown, in a sense even further “from noise and smoke of town.” But -he still spent part of the year at Farringford; and much of his poetry -is coloured by the Isle of Wight scenery, notably _Maud_, that “pet -bantling” of his to which early critics were so unkind. Enoch Arden, -too, might be thought to have hailed from this shore, but that hazel -nuts do not flourish in the Island, unless in the half fossilized form -of “Noah’s nuts” found in Compton Chine; also, on critical -consideration, there appears no long street climbing out of Freshwater, -whose “mouldered church,” moreover, has been quite masked by -rebuilding--but these are poetical properties readily inserted into any -picture, such as one that could be taken from a hundred villages on our -coast-- - - Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm; - And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands; - Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf, - In cluster; then a moulder’d church, and higher, - A long street climbs to one tall-tower’d mill; - And high in heaven behind it a grey down - With Danish barrows; and a hazelwood, - By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes - Green in a cup-like hollow of the down. - -Often from these downs, the poet must have watched-- - - Below the milky steep - Some ship of battle slowly creep, - And on through zones of light and shadow - Glimmer away to the lonely deep. - -From his own window, he could catch-- - - The voice of the long sea-wave as it swelled, - Now and then in the dim-gray dawn. - -And often his steps were turned to that finest scene within an hour’s -stroll-- - - The broad white brow of the Isle--that bay with the coloured sand--Rich - was the rose of sunset there, as we drew to the land. - -On such points of vantage, he was inspired with loyalty and patriotism -very different from the feelings of his predecessor in the laureateship, -who “uttered nothing base,” but who was certainly disposed to frown, -when, from the Island cliffs, he saw a British fleet sailing forth -against the soon clouded dawn of liberty in France. - -Tennyson naturally had a dread of new building about Freshwater; and -some other landowners here seem to share the same exclusive spirit, -which may account for the neighbourhood not being more “developed” as a -resort, while its warmest admirers lament how much it has grown since -the Laureate settled here. It has no want of attractions, not always -accessible on the steep face of chalk, scarred and pitted by works of -time like Freshwater Arch and Freshwater Cave near the little bay, -beyond which come honeycombings known by such names as “Neptune’s Caves” -and “Bar Cave”--“Frenchman’s Hole,” from an escaped prisoner said to -have starved here--Lord Holmes’ “Parlour,” “Kitchen,” and “Cellar,” -where that governor was in the way - -[Illustration: FRESHWATER BAY] - -of entertaining his friends--“Roe’s Hall”--“Preston’s Bower”--the “Wedge -Rock,” a triangular mass wedged in between the cliff and an isolated -pyramid some 50 feet high--the “Arched Cavern” in Scratchell’s Bay, and -the “Needles Cave,” into which small boats can peep before rounding the -jagged corner. It is said that Professor Tyndall used to keep himself in -climbing practice by scrambling on these treacherous rocks; and if this -be true, I so far question the wisdom of that pundit. The harrying of -airy nests makes a better excuse for such riskful gymnastics. The -fissured cliff line is tenanted by sea-fowl, which the report of a gun -brings out in screaming and hovering crowds, conspicuous among them the -black and white cormorants nicknamed “Isle of Wight parsons.” - -These sights are to be visited by boat, if a stranger have stomach for -the adventure. On foot one can mount the back of the cliff known at -first as the Nodes, then as the Mainbench, or in general as the High -Downs. At the highest point of the Nodes, nearly 500 feet, the old -beacon has been replaced by an Iona Cross in memory of Tennyson, with -whom this was a favourite walk in the wildest weather. A grand walk it -is upon a crest of greensward so smooth that bicycles find a track here -among the flying golf balls. In dry weather this smooth turf is -slippery, as one might find too late on its treacherous edges. Further -on, the straight way is barred by a fort, where, between Scratchell’s -Bay and Alum Bay, the ridge narrows and drops to the spur pointed by -those insular masses known as the “Needles,” that, seen at a hazy -distance, rise out of the sea like three castles. - -The name of this famous point has been connected with the German _Nieder -Fels_; but there seems no need of going further than a homely simile -that would come to mind and mouth of sailors who, in another language, -have threaded the same suggestion on the southernmost rocks of Africa. -Of the three sharp-backed islets that stand out here braving the winds -and waves, the innermost is known to have risen 120 feet higher in a -tall pillar called “Lot’s Wife,” which fell in 1784. Since Turner -painted them, unless they loomed for him through a haze of imagination, -the Needles have dwindled in size. Naturally of course they are worn -away by every gale, like their kinsmen “Old Harry and his Wife” on the -Dorset coast, one of which isolated masses has been washed down to a -stump within the last few years, the same end as threatens the “Parson -and Clerk” off the red sandstone cliffs of Devon; and in the far north -the more robustly gigantic “Old Man of Hoy” has now but one leg to stand -on. - -Bitten at as they are by old _Edax Rerum_, the Needles have still a bulk -which, dwarfed against the cliffs behind, might not be guessed till -one’s eyes are fixed upon the lighthouse on the outermost rock, or upon -human figures displayed against them, to give their due proportion. -Thomas Webster, the geologist, saw them about a century ago under most -picturesque conditions, when the fifty-gun frigate _Pomone_ had stuck -fast upon the outer edge, and lay captive there, to be broken up by the -next gale, the waves already spouting through her ports and hatchways, -while all around swarmed a fleet of smaller vessels engaged in salving -the wreck, or bringing idle spectators to such a singular scene: he was -surprised to find the frigate’s hull overtopped by more than -three-fourths of the rock. - -On the north side of the Needles opens Alum Bay, where German visitors -will not fail to exclaim _Wunderschön!_ and Americans to admire the -works of nature as “elegant!” This famous geological transformation -scene is formed by the Eocene strata turning up beside the chalk, as at -the east end of the Island, but here with more striking effect, so as to -be a spectacle for the most unlearned eye as well as a lesson of -extraordinary value for those who can read it, through the manner in -which the beds have been heaved, contorted and thrown into a vertical -position of display. The chalk on one side with its tender tints is -faced on the other by variegated bands of clay, marl, and sand, the hues -of which, after heavy rain especially, are vivid far beyond our common -experience of the “brown old earth,” in some lights presenting the -rainbow of colour described by Englefield, to be so often quoted: “deep -purplish-red, dusky blue, bright ochreous-yellow, grey approaching -nearly to white, and absolute black, succeed each other, as sharply -defined as the stripes in silk; and after rain the sun, which, from -about noon till his setting in summer, illuminates them more and more, -gives a brilliancy to some of these nearly as resplendent as the high -lights on real silk.” - -His geological ally Webster renders an almost as high-coloured account -in more matter-of-fact style. The Alum Bay cliffs, he says, - -... consist, generally, of a vast number of alternations of layers - of very pure clay, and pure sand, with ferruginous sand and shale. - Of these beds some are several feet, whilst others are not an - eighth of an inch in thickness. Next to the chalk, is a vertical - bed of chalk marl; then one of clay of a deep red colour, or - sometimes mottled red and white. This is succeeded by a very thick - bed of dark blue clay with green earth, containing nodules of marl - or argillaceous limestone with fossil shells. Then follows a vast - succession of alternating beds of sand of various colours, white, - bright yellow, green, red and grey; plastic clay, white, black, - grey and red; ferruginous sandstone and shale, together with - several beds of a species of coal, or lignite, the vegetable origin - of which is evident. The number and variety of these vertical - layers is quite endless, and I can compare them to nothing better - than the stripes on the leaves of a tulip. On cutting down pieces - of the cliffs, it is astonishing to see the extreme brightness of - the colours, and the delicacy and thinness of the several layers of - white and red sand, shale and white sand, yellow clay and white or - red sand, and indeed almost every imaginable combination of these - materials. These cliffs, although so highly coloured that they - could scarcely come within the limits of picturesque beauty, were - not, however, without their share of harmony. The tints suited each - other admirably; and their whole appearance, though almost beyond - the reach of art to imitate, was extremely pleasing to the eye. - Their forms, divested of colour, when viewed near, and from the - beach, were often of the most sublime class; resembling the - weather-worn peaks of Alpine heights. This circumstance they derive - from the same source as those primitive mountains; for the strata - being vertical, the rains and snow water enter between them, and - wear deep channels, leaving the more solid parts sharp and pointed. - -The alum that gives the name to this bay, oozing from its motley face, -seems no longer of commercial account; but the pure white sand is used -in glass-making, and the coloured sands are arranged in fantastic -patterns to make curiosities or memorials for the excursionists who -flock to this spot by coach, by steamer from Bournemouth and other -seaside towns, or by an hour’s walk from Freshwater station. For their -entertainment, there are two hostelries and some humbler refreshment -rooms; but as yet Alum Bay has not been turned into a bathing-place, -though round its northern corner rises one of the favourite summer -resorts of the Island. - -Another contrast appears from the hollow behind the bay. The chalk downs -on one side are smooth, as if shaved by their own razor-like edges; on -the other, Headon Hill swells up in moorland knolls and banks of -heather, its rough sides clothed with tufts of yellow flowerets and -ragged grass. Headon Warren is a fitting _alias_. From its blunt head, -some 400 feet, we look down upon the lower and darker cliffs of the -inner coast, studded with brick forts that would be an ugly sight to an -enemy seeking to force the passage of the Solent. - -We have done now with wonders, but the north-western face of the Island -makes a pleasant shore line, on which, in a mile or so, is reached the -snug beach of Totland Bay, the chief bathing-place of this end, all new -and smart, its big hotel standing out over the pier, like colonel of a -regiment of lodging-houses and villas. Round the next corner comes -Colwell Bay, another stretch of sand on which a younger resort is -growing up beside crumbling cliffs and tiny chines. At the further horn -stands Albert Fort, nicknamed the “brick three-decker,” commanding the -narrowest part of the Solent, where a long narrow spit from the mainland -throws Hurst Castle more than half-way across the three-knot channel, -hardly needed as a stepping-stone by any giant who might care to hop -over. The next corner, bearing up the Victoria Fort, brings us round to -the estuary of the Yar, a stream that shows more estuary than river, -opening out with as much complacency as if it drained a basin of ten -times three miles. The mouth of this shallow gulf, towards the sea -pleasantly masked in woods, is crossed by a causeway leading into -Yarmouth. - -[Illustration: TOTLAND BAY] - - - - -YARMOUTH - - -Among its other misfortunes this little Yarmouth has had that of being -over-crowed by the bloated renown of Great Yarmouth, which trumpets -forth many high notes of interest, from its cathedral-like church and -its ancient “Rows,” to its herring fleet and its Cockney paradises. The -author of _David Copperfield_ himself might not find much to say about -the Isle of Wight Yarmouth, which yet, by its past dignity, seems to -demand a chapter, where it must play at least the part of text like that -blessed word Mesopotamia. If we writers might never fill a few pages -without having anything particular to say, what would become of the -circulating libraries? So let us see what may be said under the head of -Yarmouth, taken with a stretch of country beyond which deserves to be -better known than it is to the Island visitors. - -This little town or big village is best known to strangers by the pier -of the shortest crossing from Lymington, not indeed the most convenient -one, as there is a gap between the landing and the station, and trains -of the Freshwater line seem to run in no close connection with the -steamers, or make only a mocking show of connection that adds insult to -injury. So one may find oneself stranded here for an hour or two, unless -he can go straight on by coach to Freshwater Bay or to Totland Bay, to -which also some of the steamers run in the season. But weak-stomached -voyagers hail the half-hour’s passage as being mostly in the winding mud -flats of the Lymington River, with an open prospect towards the Needles, -and the low walls of Hurst Castle at the point of its long spit. -Hereabouts is the proposed line of a Solent Tunnel which as yet remains -in the air, but as _fait accompli_ might lift poor Yarmouth’s head, or -Totland Bay’s, to the height of proud Ryde. - -Simple as it stands now, Yarmouth is one of the Island’s three ancient -boroughs, old enough to have been more than once burned by French -excursionists in the bad old days, and a place of comparatively more -importance a century ago, when fleets of sails might be wind-bound here -for weeks. As bulwark against French and other attacks, a castle was -built at the mouth of the Yar, whose remains are now enclosed in the -grounds of the Pier Hotel, itself still recalling its state when it was -the mansion of Sir Robert Holmes, and entertained Charles II. Else, -Yarmouth has not much to boast in the way of architecture, unless some -quaint old houses, refreshing after the modernity of Totland Bay. The -Church, dating from James I., shows a collection of Holmes’ monuments, -chief among them a fine statue of Sir Robert Holmes, which had a curious -history: it is - -[Illustration: YARMOUTH] - -said to have been meant for Louis XIV., but being captured at sea along -with the sculptor, he was forced to fit it with a head of Sir Robert. -This local worthy, Governor of the Island under Charles II., and a -benefactor to the town by embanking its marshy estuary, had a wider -renown as one of our early Nelsons; he is repeatedly mentioned in Pepys’ -_Diary_, and his epitaph tells in sounding Latin how, among other -exploits, he more than once beat the Dutch, not always beaten at sea by -Charles’ sailors, how he took from them the colony of _Nova Belgia_, now -better known as New York, and how he captured a cargo of Guinea gold -that was coined into a word of much credit in our language. - -The Island boasts at least one other sailor as having earned a place in -our story. There was a poor tailor’s apprentice of Bonchurch who, -according to the legend, ran away to the king’s navy, proved himself in -his first fight worth more than nine men, and rose to be Admiral Sir -Thomas Hopson, knighted by Queen Anne for breaking the boom at Vigo. -These rough coasts have all along nursed a breed of stout sea-dogs, not -always so well employed as in fighting the battles of their country. A -century ago Yarmouth, and indeed all this corner, seems to have been a -nest of amphibian waiters on the tides of fortune, passing as fishermen -plain, but often coloured as smugglers, and proving excellent food for -powder when they could be pressed into the navy blue. - -Such proof spirits made boon companions for the eccentric painter -George Morland, when in 1799 he fled from London to escape bailiffs. He -had thus nearly jumped from the frying-pan into the fire, since at -Yarmouth he and his brother were arrested by a party of the Dorset -militia on suspicion of being spies for the French--why else should -strangers be sketching the coast? At Shanklin, the same suspicion fell -upon another artist, whom the fishermen began to pelt from his easel, -but he, being a very fat man, cleared himself by patting his paunch, and -exclaiming, “Does this look like anything French?” There was a spy-fever -all over the Island at that time. In Morland’s case, amid the hoots of a -patriotic populace, the military Dogberries marched off their prisoners -to Newport, where they were discharged by the magistrates only on -condition of making no more sketches. In spite of such prohibition, some -of Morland’s best work represents the Freshwater cliffs and the fishing -folk of this coast. - -Yarmouth gives itself few seaside airs; yet one has seen bathing-places -with no more to build on. There is a stretch of sand where a few -bathing-machines are unlimbered; and at low tide the smell of seaweed -and salt mud might be considered medicinal. The Pier Hotel (the -ex-“George”) has recently enlarged itself to invite custom; and on the -other side of the pier the Solent Yacht Club makes a showy patch upon a -general aspect of well-worn old-fashionedness. If one yearn for a -thicker mixture of up-to-date buildings, one has only to take the two -or three miles’ walk, or few minutes’ railway run to Freshwater. - -To the east, the Bouldnor estate has been trying to blossom into a red -brick resort upon its wooded shore fringed with sand. By the low cliffs -on this side we pass on towards the Hamstead Ledges, mines of fossils -wealth, which I have heard a British Association President declare to be -the most interesting part of the Island; but the general public takes -quite an opposite view. The northern shore, with its muddy flats and -crumbling banks, has no attraction for the many, till the sands of -Gurnard Bay bring us round to the far stretched esplanade of Cowes. - -Behind the coast, Parkhurst Forest once extended from Yarmouth to Cowes, -where the country is still dotted with its fragments in woods, copses, -and straggling hedgerows. Here, between the Downs and the Solent, runs -the railway to Newport, keeping well back in the green plain, with more -apparent regard for economy of line than for the convenience of the -villages it serves on either hand. Its course, indeed, is soon turned -inland by the Newton River, whose crops are raised from salterns and -oyster-beds, across which the railway gets glimpses of the sea two or -three miles away. - -Among the branching creeks of this shallow inlet may be sought out -Newton, now a mere hamlet, but, in the teeth of its name, boasting -itself the oldest borough in the Island, which till not so long ago -returned two members of Parliament, among them such celebrities as -Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, and George Canning. Though the place has -a tiny, tumbledown Town Hall, it was only in the last century that it -got a church of its own. But its now larger neighbour Shalfleet, nearer -the railway, has one of the most notable churches on the Island, with a -massive Norman tower and other relics, such as the rude carving over the -north door, the subject of which makes a riddle for antiquaries. - -On the opposite side of the line, the pretty village of Calbourne shows -another old church, a good deal “restored,” to the scandalising of -architectural purists; and near it Swainston is one of the most -dignified Wight mansions, incorporating the remains of what was once an -episcopal palace of the Winchester diocese. One Rector of Calbourne was -that Nicholas Udall, now remembered as author of _Ralph Roister -Doister_, the first English comedy, but as Headmaster of Eton noted in -his own day for out-Heroding the Tudor Herods in school discipline, if -Thomas Tusser’s experience were not exceptional--whose works the irony -of time puts on library shelves beside those of his old tyrant-- - - From Paul’s I went, to Eton sent, - To learn straightways the Latin phrase, - Where fifty-three stripes given to me - At once I had; - For fault but small, or none at all, - It came to pass, thus beat I was. - See, Udall, see, the mercy of thee - To me, poor lad! - -[Illustration: SHALFLEET] - -The Eton boys who painfully learned to act this Orbilius’ comedy, may -often have been as sad over it as is the traditional clown in private -life. If any of them grew up to be dramatic critics, they might have -found some satisfaction in “slating” their ex-master. To us indeed the -humours of this farcical piece suggest that our forefathers must have -been as easily amused as were Mr Peter Magnus’ friends, to Mr Pickwick’s -thinking. But also a play evidently modelled upon Plautus and Terence, -with more than a hint of our old friend _Miles Gloriosus_, is remarkable -for keeping in view a motto much neglected by many playwrights, _Maxima -debetur puero reverentia_, while indeed it condescends to rough -vernacular fun such as might not be expected from that strict -disciplinarian, who, after retirement to a country parsonage, ended his -days in another mastership at Westminster. - -Calbourne one understands to be the “Malbourne” of a novel that made -some noise, _The Silence of Dean Maitland_, where this countryside and -its people are gauzily veiled under such names as “_Old_port” with its -“_Burton’s_ Hotel,” and the “_Swaynestone_” lords of the manor; while -other scenes of this moving story seem better masked as “Chalkbourne” -and “Belminster.” One rather wonders that novelists think it needful to -affect such a thin disguise. In another good story of the Isle of Wight, -Mrs Oliphant’s _Old Mr Tredgold_, we find the same trick of nomenclature -used rather more carelessly, when “Steephill” stands inland from -“Sliplin,” and the “_Bunbridge_ cliffs” once betray themselves as -Bembridge by a slip of the author’s pen, or of the printer’s eye. We -plodding writers of fact are fain to grudge our fanciful brethren such -half measures in reality. We would not drive them back upon “the -pleasant town of A----” or “the ancient city of B----,” all the letters -of the alphabet having long ago been used up in this service; but they -might be at a little pain of invention to christen their “St Oggs” and -“Claverings”; or at least let them be consistent, and not dump down -Portsmouth by its honest name, as that first mentioned novelist does, -among her ineffectual _aliases_. - -Ground so well trodden by honeymooning couples seems to offer a fit -stage for fiction; and the Isle of Wight, if it sometimes finds itself -called out of its proper names, has less cause to complain of want of -appreciation among the novelists who deal with it. Jane Austen only -sights it from the walls of Portsmouth, but her interest was in human -rather than natural features; and she at least compliments it with its -local title “the Island.” Mr Meredith coasts or touches its shores here -and there, taking such snapshots as:--“The Solent ran up green waves -before a full-blowing South-wester. Gay little yachts bounded out like -foam, and flashed their sails, light as sea nymphs. A cloud of deep -summer blue topped the flying mountains of cloud.” Mr Zangwill pushes -inland, and writes this testimonial:--“A maze of loveliness, abounding -in tempting perspectives. Every leafy avenue is rich in promise; such -nestling farmhouses, such peeping spires, such quaint red tiled -cottages, such picturesque old-fashioned mullioned windows, such -delicious wafts of perfume from the gardens and orchards, such bits of -beautiful old England as are perhaps nowhere else so profusely -scattered!” But another popular novelist, who shall here be nameless, -playing _Advocatus Diaboli_ through the mouth of one of his characters -in a perverse humour, puts the seamy side thus:--“That the Isle of Wight -was only a trumpery toyshop, that its ‘scenery’ was fitly adorned with -bazaars for the sale of sham jewellery, that its amusements were on a -par with those of Rosherville Gardens; that its rocks were made of mud -and its sea of powdered lime.” - -This does not exhaust the catalogue of stories which have their scene -here. Professor Church’s _Count of the Saxon Shore_ and Mr F. Cowper’s -_Captain of the Wight_ come rather into the category of boys’ books, the -latter being specially well stuffed with swashing blows and strong -“language of the period.” Mr Headon Hill’s _Spies of the Wight_ gives a -lurid peep into the machinations of a foreign power against our coast -defences, and the tricks of a Fosco-like villain foiled by one of those -Sherlock Holmes intellects that find it so easy to discover what has -been invented for discovery. We are now approaching the most fashionable -resort in the Island, and there perhaps may come across some of those -scandals and sins of society that give a popular relish to so much of -our circulating literature. Meanwhile, since there is nothing like -seeing ourselves as others see us, for a careful picture of Isle of -Wight life, let us turn to a French story-teller whose modesty might -prefer his name to be withheld. - -A collection of novelettes entitled _Amours Anglais_, one of which -centres in the Island, is put forth by this writer as an essay in a new -school of romance. His preface, dated from “Margate, Isle of Thanet,” -lets us understand how after long years of sojourn in England he has -observed John Bull as closely and profoundly as is possible for a -stranger to do, and that he proposes to present English life to his -countrymen, stripped of the ridiculous exterior with which it is charged -by their caricaturing spirit. This sympathising stranger knows the -British soul to be not less interesting and more wholesome than the -gloomy and flabby Russian sentiment that has had such a vogue in French -fiction. To the facts of _Outre-Manche_, then, he will apply his native -“psychologic methods,” writing as a Frenchman what he has felt as an -Englishman. His aim is “to create an international _genre_ of romance, -marrying our taste to the humour and the morality of our neighbours. -Have I succeeded? The public will judge.” So, with the best intentions, -our _entente cordialiste_ appeals to his French readers. Let the English -public now judge. - -The heroine of this story is Lilian North, nearly out of her teens, -whose home is a cottage wreathed with ivy and honeysuckle in the -outskirts of Newport. Her father, who “says the service in the chapel” -across the road, is “in orders,” not indeed Anglican orders, he being a -fanatical Baptist who holds that “one is surer of going to hell with the -Archbishop of Canterbury than with the Pope of Rome himself.” Her mother -is dead. She has a married sister not far off at Plymouth--in which, for -once, the author makes a slip, as he evidently means Portsmouth. Poor -Lilian sees almost no society, except Jedediah, “papa’s disciple,” a -sort of apprentice minister who “is to read the service when papa dies.” -This young colleague and successor loves Lilian, with her father’s -approval; but she loves him not, as how should she when he has red eyes, -hair of no particular colour, and can talk about nothing but going to -heaven! - -Jedediah looks like turning out the hypocritical villain of the piece. -Lilian likes him less than ever when the hero appears in the person of -Harry Gordon, a young city clerk who has come courting Miss Arabella -Jones, elder daughter of the Baptist minister at Newport. Mr Jones has -the advantage of his colleague in being a rich man who “preaches only -for his amusement”; and his daughters lead a rackety life that must have -scandalised the connection, especially in the Ryde yachting season, when -they are always at some party of pleasure, “sometimes in a boat, -sometimes on horseback, sometimes in _char-à-bancs_, never knowing in -the morning where they shall lunch in the afternoon, nor where and with -whom they shall dance in the evening”; and when they visit Newport it is -with a train of ever fresh cavaliers. - -At a picnic in the ruins of Carisbrooke, Lilian makes the acquaintance -of Harry Gordon, whom her friend Arabella Jones professes to disdain as -a shy awkward boy. But Lilian takes to him, and Harry begins to pay more -attention to her than to the proud Miss Jones. At a game of blindman’s -buff among the ruins, the blindfolded hero is more deliberate than need -be in pawing over Lilian’s face and figure before giving her name. Cupid -catches them both. - -Another day there was a party to Freshwater, where the sea is always -_méchant_, even in fine weather. The ladies having ventured out in a -boat, found themselves in such danger that they were glad to get on -shore. Then Arabella put her backward swain to the test with the -question--“if we had gone down, which of us would you have saved first?” -Harry did not answer, but his looks were on Lilian, to the spiteful -displeasure of Miss Jones. So, in talking of a ball about to be given by -the wealthy Baptist pastor of Ryde, she scornfully bid Lilian come to it -only if properly dressed--“none of your shabby dyed frocks and halfpenny -flowers!” - -Lilian’s cheeks glowed with shame under this insult, and she took the -first opportunity of stealing away to weep all alone by moonlight. But -Harry, indignantly sympathetic, had followed her, guided by her sobs. -In vain she bid him return to his Arabella. Arabella indeed! He had -never much cared for Miss Jones, whom he now detested after such an -exhibition of ill-natured rudeness. As they strolled on the Freshwater -esplanade, Lilian’s foot slipped; and Harry, holding-her up, took the -opportunity to clasp the heroine in his arms. They went back an engaged -couple--_cela va sans dire_. - -The courtship had to be done on the sly; yet the young couple must have -attracted suspicion in any more censorious neighbourhood, such as that -not far away, which we hear of, on good authority, as bubbling over with -“gossip, scandal, and spite.” Every day Harry rode from Ryde to Newport, -met at her garden-gate by Lilian, to keep company with all the freedom -of a British maiden and of an innocent heart. “I gave sugar to his -horse, which was called Fly; we picked flowers, and ran races against -each other.” Only the jealous Jedediah guessed what was going on. When -Harry entered the house, he feigned great attention to the religious -exhortations of the father, but could not make way in his good-will, -while Jedediah scowled at every sight of his rival, whose ring Lilian -wore “hidden under my mitten,” yet not perhaps from that -green-spectacled monster. - -Autumn broke up the gay non-conformist society of the Island. The Misses -Jones went off to make fresh conquests at Brighton. Harry had to go back -to his London office, but every week-end he took a bed at the “Bugle” -Hotel of Newport, spent Sunday with his _fiancée’s_ family, and returned -to business by the last train. In spite of this breaking of the Sabbath, -the Baptist minister believed that the young man came all the way from -London to hear him preach. But at last the neighbours began to talk; so -the lovers saw themselves obliged to meet only in secret, and to pour -out their hearts in long letters. The worst of it was that Harry grew -cross and impatient. His father, a rich shipowner at Cardiff, would -never consent to his engagement with the daughter of a poor Baptist -preacher. If he knew, he would cut his son off with a shilling, “as the -law authorises him to do.” The Rev. Mr North, for his part, would frown -on his child’s union with a family far from sound in faith. Lilian was -for a long engagement, in hopes that the old people would come round. -Harry’s more heroic remedy was an immediate secret marriage such as, in -tale and history, has sooner or later the effect of forcing parents to -make the best of a bad business. The wooer becomes ill-temperedly -pressing; Lilian at length consents; but when these unpractical -youngsters lay their heads together, they run up at once against the -serious difficulty of finding a minister to marry them. Then the heroine -takes the desperate resolution of throwing herself upon the generosity -of her unsuccessful suitor. She leads Jedediah into the garden; and now -for a scene in the best style of French fiction. - - “Do you love me, Mr Jedediah?” I said. - - The poor fellow had a moment of joy and hope. - - “I ask if you love me well enough to wish my happiness, even if - that should cause you pain?” - - “Yes,” said he, all at once overcast again. - - “And do you feel yourself capable of doing all you can to aid the - accomplishment of what will be grievous to you?” - - “Perhaps,” replied Jedediah with a sigh. - - “Mr Jedediah, I love Harry Gordon.” - - “I feared so!” - - “I wish to marry him.” - - “And you reckon on me to win the consent of Mr North. But nothing - will move him, Miss Lilian: he has discovered that Mr Harry’s - father is a Puseyite, and his aunt a nun in Ireland. His conviction - is that Mr Harry is a treacherous foe who has got into intimacy - with him for the purpose of stealing his papers and spying upon his - conduct. Nothing will move him!” - - “I am aware of it, so I have made up my mind to marry without his - knowledge.” - - “Without his knowledge! But who will marry you?” - - “You, Mr Jedediah!” - - “Me!” - - “Yourself, my good, my dear Jedediah!” - - “But,” went on Jedediah, after a moment’s consideration, “even if I - were weak enough to consent to so culpable an action, such a union - would not be valid in the eye of the law. Not being a member of the - Established Church, I cannot celebrate a civil marriage. You must - go before the Registrar; and, as you are both under age, this - official will not marry you without your father’s authorisation in - writing.” - - “Alas! what are we to do?” - - Jedediah reflected. - - “What would you say if I undertook to get this authorisation for - you?” - - “I should say that you are our good angel.” - - “Then, let me manage.” - - I held out my hand and he kissed it. His glasses were moist with - tears. - - Three days later, he brought me the document which I required. He - was very pale. I would have asked questions, but he let me - understand that he would not answer. “I have done wrong for your - sake, Miss Lilian,” he said. - - I learned afterwards that he had procured my father’s _blanc-seing_ - under pretext of a petition addressed to the Government against the - Ritualists, and especially against the use of surplices, baldaquins - over altars, and confessionals. - - I do not know to what stratagems Harry had recourse for obtaining - the necessary papers. What is certain is that we were married on - Easter Tuesday, before the Registrar of the county, after which - Jedediah gave us the nuptial benediction in a little chapel of the - Baptist communion situated in the environs of Plymouth - (_Portsmouth_). He married us without looking at us. I have never - seen a scene more strange, nor a man more unfortunate. - - He refused to come and share the wedding-cake with us, which we ate - at my sister’s. - -But those English love-marriages between rash young people by no mean -always end in living happily all the rest of their days; and the story -soon turns tragic, its scene shifting from the Island. After that secret -wedding, Harry returns to London, leaving his wife in an awkward -position, where Jedediah is her only comfort. Love still blinds her eyes -to the selfishness of Harry; but the reader sees how she might have been -better off with poor Jedediah, who is not such a villain after all, but -only the Dobbin or Seth Bede of the tale. The time comes when her -marriage can no longer be hidden. Harry takes lodgings for her in London -at the house of a Mrs Benson, whose husband, being employed at the -Bricklayers’ Arms Goods Station, finds it convenient to live in a -four-roomed house in Shoreditch, too large for a quiet couple. - -To this sympathetic landlady, Lilian relates the foregoing story, with -many tears and gulps of _tisane_, a refreshment, it seems, known to -Shoreditch sickbeds. Her child is born dead. The young mother in her -feverish weakness fancies that Jedediah has revengefully contrived some -defect in the ceremony, and cries out to have her marriage made legally -complete at the parish church. Harry, moved by her delirium, writes to -both parents, confessing the truth. A curate is sent for, who politely -but hastily says a few prayers at the sick-bed, then hurries off to a -tea-party at the West-end. Lilian dies the same night. Harry weeps, to -be sure, but soon grows tired of sitting up with the dead, and comes -down to smoke a pipe with the landlord. - -Next day Gordon _père_ arrives in a great rage, but, at the sight of his -dead daughter-in-law, he is touched to the point of taking off his hat, -as English gentlemen, it appears, will do on such special occasions. Mr -North, on his arrival, shows natural grief, which is soon turned to -wrath by the sight of a crucifix laid on his daughter’s breast, contrary -to “the statute of the fifteenth year of Elizabeth,” as he knows well; -and he gives up all hope of her eternal welfare, on hearing how her last -moments had been corrupted by the prayers of an Anglican priest. Mrs -Benson, who takes that wide view of religion spread in France by such -divines as the Savoyard Vicar and such poets as Beranger, in vain tries -to comfort him. - -“What! Is she lost for such a small matter? The curate did not stay ten -minutes. I know nothing about any of your sects; but I am sure that -there is only one _bon Dieu_ for all of us; and Benson thinks so too.” - -Jedediah’s grief is not less deep but more reasonable. It is he who -performs the service when, on a snowy evening, Lilian is buried in -Bethnal Green Cemetery. - -But the sensational story has a cynical epilogue. Kind Mrs Benson, _qui -sent son Dickens_, never forgets her young lodger. One Sunday, as her -husband is reading _Lloyd’s News_, which he spells out conscientiously -from the “_premier Londres_ of M. Jerrold to the last line of the -advertisements,” he exclaims at a paragraph stating that a clergyman, -named North, formerly of the Isle of Wight, had been caught trying to -break images over the altar of Exeter Cathedral, and sent to an asylum -as a madman. Nothing is heard of Jedediah, and we can only trust that he -duly succeeded to the Newport pastorate and found some consoling -helpmeet in the congregation. Of Harry there is no news till some years -later, when the Bensons go to Cardiff to meet a married daughter -returning from New Zealand. Calling at the Gordons’ house, they learn -that the father is dead, and that Harry, now his own master, is about to -marry a Miss Jones of Ryde, not indeed the proud Arabella, but her -younger sister Florence, to whom time has transferred his facile -affections. - -The last scene introduces Miss Florence going over the house soon to be -her own, and finding in a drawer an old black glove torn and soiled. -Harry denies all knowledge of it, but when his new beloved proposes to -throw it away, he shows that it has some value for him. The suspicious -damsel sulks, plays off on his jealousy a cousin in the Scots Greys, -refuses to waltz with her _fiancé_, except at the price of his giving up -that glove. He sighs as a widower, but obeys as a wooer. Giving one -secret kiss to poor Lilian’s glove, he resigns it to the triumphant Miss -Jones, who flings it on the fire, and holds out her white fingers for -the forgiven Harry to kiss, yet not without a smiling stab at that -unknown rival’s memory--“Her hand was larger than mine!” - -Now for the moral of this realistic romance. “Let him who has never -committed a cowardice of the kind, who has never sacrificed a memory to -a hope, the forgotten love to the fresh one, the dead to the living, let -him cast at Harry the first stone!” To which poor Jedediah will not say -_Amen_. - -The latest scene for fiction set in the Isle of Wight--_All Moonshine_, -by Richard Whiteing--is no photograph of actual society like that just -reduced, but a most imaginative romance, not to say a wild nightmare -inspired by the dangers of over-population, and based on the statistical -claim quoted in my first chapter, that the world’s eighteen hundred -millions or so could all find room to meet in this Island. The author, -falling asleep at Ventnor, dreams of such a universal rendezvous as -coming about in the form of astral bodies from all ends of the earth, -when some very strange things happen among the unsubstantial multitude. -At one moment it seems as if the ghostly armies of England and Germany -were about to close here in a lurid Armageddon; but they are fain to -fraternise before the general peril of an earthquake announced at Shide -as threatening to crack the globe and overwhelm civilisation in waves of -fire let loose from hell. The dreamer awakes to find the world what it -is, with nations and classes seeking to fatten on their neighbours’ -poverty, kings and statesmen watching each other’s armaments in mutual -suspicion, priests hoisting flags on their churches in exultation over -the slaughter of fellow-Christians, and only an unpractical poet or -romancer to cry here and there-- - - Ah! when shall all men’s good - Be each man’s rule, and universal peace - Lie like a shaft of light across the land, - And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, - Thro’ all the circle of the golden year. - -[Illustration: CALBOURNE] - - - - -COWES - - -We now come to one of the most important places in the Island, a place -that holds up its double head for second to none in the way of dignity -and fashion, though it began life as two small castles built by Henry -VIII. at the Medina’s mouth to protect the harbour of Newport. - - The two great Cows that in loud thunder roar, - This on the eastern, that the western shore, - Where Newport enters stately Wight. - -“I knew when there was not above three or four houses at Cowes,” says -Sir John Oglander, who yet had counted three hundred ships at anchor -there; “and I was and am persuaded that if our wars and troubles had not -unfortunately happened, it would have grown as famous as Newport.” -Another scourge of the Island in his time was the activity of lawyers to -stir up strife, whereas the first attorney who ventured himself here had -been ignominiously charivaried out of this Arcadian scene by order of -the Governor. But it might be, he admits, that lawyers were no more to -blame than the absence of ships of war, once such good customers for -the Islanders’ produce. “Now peace and law hath beggared us all, so -that within my memory many of the gentlemen and almost all the yeomanry -are undone.” One observes the distinction drawn by this rule of thumb -economist between the ruinous effects of civil war and the profitable -accidents of helping to ruin another country. - -It is easy to understand how Cowes came to be the Tilbury and Gravesend -of Newport, then by and by to supplant it as the Island’s chief port. In -the days of small vessels, such a harbour as Newport offers was roomy -and accessible enough, while it had the advantage of being more out of -the way of hostile attack. London, Glasgow, Newcastle, Exeter, Bristol -are only a few examples of great ports lying some way up navigable -rivers; then on the larger scale of the world, one at once thinks of -Calcutta, Canton, Montreal, New Orleans, Rosario, and so on. Some of -these inland havens have kept their commercial position only by pains -and cost hardly worth while to save half-a-dozen miles of water -carriage; so, as ships grew too big for the tiny wharves of Newport, -they would unload at the mouth of the river that makes the one good -harbour on the Island. Thus Cowes grew apace; and a century ago it bid -fair to be at least the second Wight town, till Ryde took a sudden start -in prosperity. Like Ryde and Yarmouth it throve by victualling the great -war fleets and convoys that often lay wind-bound in the Solent. But -Cowes got a special string to its bow in the ship-building industry -rooted here, then another in its position as headquarters of Solent -yachting; and royal favour went to bring it into fashion. There was a -time when it aspired to be a mere Margate or Sandown, in honour of which -a Georgian poet named Jones is moved to predict-- - - No more to foreign baths shall Britain roam - But plunge at Cowes and find rich health at home! - -To tell the truth, Cowes hardly shines in this capacity. Its bathing is -not everywhere safe in the currents of the Solent; and to pick out a -sandy oasis on the rough beach one must go eastward towards Gurnard Bay. -Nowadays, indeed, the place is so spoilt by the patronage of European -royalties and American millionaires, that it does not much care to lay -itself out for the holiday-making _bourgeois_ and his olive branches. -The straggling town, divided by the Medina, has no particular charm -unless that of a marine flavour. It is far from being so picturesque as -Ventnor, or so imposing as Ryde; and apart from the artificial beauties -of the parks enclosing it, its surroundings are commonplace beside those -of Newport. Its main interest is on the sea-face looking over the -shallow waters of the Solent, beside which East Cowes huddles along a -narrow main street, that winds up and down, in and out, here and there, -making a quaint show of houses old and new, half and half, dwellings -mixed with shops, an unusual proportion of them providing refreshments, -when they do not display such wares as ship’s lanterns, and other -sea-fittings from cordage to carronades. The central point is the -steamboat pier opposite the station; then further west comes the -Victoria Pier with its pavilion, on a scale that shows how little Cowes -cares to cater for your common Saturday to Monday visitor. - -Cowes makes the Mecca of the yachtsman, as St Andrews of the golfer. It -is the most famous station of those idle craft that in our day diverge -into two different forms--the steam vessels, models of comfort and -elegance, even luxury, some of them fitted for making pleasure-cruises -all over the world; and the mere sailing boats, that seem utterly -useless but as racing machines to skim like butterflies over some quiet -sea, with their decks as often as not half under water--“a sort of metal -torpedo with two or three balloons fixed on to it.” This is a pastime as -expensive as the turf, and sometimes as unsatisfactory to the amateurs -who seek social glory thereby. Not all the gentlemen who swagger about -in blue jackets here are so much at home on the ocean wave as for the -nonce they would fain appear. Not all those big and smart craft so much -admired in the roads of Cowes are very familiar with the breeze or the -billow of the open sea. The sailing masters and crews of some of them -must have a good easy time of it; and one suspects they prefer being in -the service of a fine-weather sailor, whose purse is his main -qualification for seamanship, to taking orders from some old salt who -knows the ropes as well as they do. We remember Jack Brag and his -skipper Bung. But there are yachtsmen of another school, whose blood has -the salt in it that goes so far to make England what it is, men who, -without having the means to own idle vessels, dearly love playing the -mariner in good earnest, and can spend no happier holiday than in -working some small craft with their own hands, taking rough and smooth -as it comes, getting health and pleasure out of return for a month or so -to something like the old Viking life, and all its tingling charm of a -struggle with the forces of nature. Sailors of this stamp can here buy -or hire craft of all kinds, but perhaps more cheaply at other ports on -the Solent, for it is not only at regatta-time that Cowes has a name for -high charges. - -The Solent with its almost landlocked waters, its many creeks, and its -havens of refuge never more than a few miles off, makes a good -cruising-ground for small craft such as can be sailed by the owner with -the help of one or two hands working for love or money. Yet there are -special difficulties here in the broken shore-line, the shifting banks, -the shallows, and the treacherous currents, that call for some nautical -ability, and even local experience to interpret the many buoys and -beacons marking the channels of a watery labyrinth. The chief danger, -apart from an occasional rough sea and squalls to be looked out for -through openings in the land, is the violence of the tides, that -encounter one another from each end of the Solent, so as to produce the -peculiar result of a double high water--the ebb, after an hour or so, -being driven back up to Southampton by a fresh flow. - -There are, of course, various yacht clubs that take the Solent for their -province; but the admiral of them all is the “Squadron,” one of the most -exclusive clubs in the world, whose members have the much coveted right -to fly St George’s white pennant on their yachts, and other privileges. -Its membership is the port for which some of the most sumptuous yachts -are fitted out. Many a millionaire would give a large slice of his -fortune for admission to this body; but ill-gotten gold that buys -titles, social advantages, and lordly yachts, is not an _Open Sesame_ -here; and there are aspirants who know, like Spenser, what it is in this -matter “to have thy Prince’s grace and want _his_ peers’.” Princely, -royal or imperial patronage is seldom wanting for the regatta at the -beginning of August, with which, passing on to the coast from Goodwood, -the fashionable world disperses itself for the season in the blaze of -fireworks that marks the end of “Cowes week.” During this week, Cowes -becomes the focus of “smart” society, money and champagne flying over it -like sea spray, and all its accommodation crammed; indeed, it would have -no room for half its visitors, if not a few of them did not bring their -own quarters in the shape of the innumerable yachts that by day are -radiant with rainbow bunting, and by night illuminate the waters of -the - -[Illustration: YACHTING AT COWES] - -Solent with thousands of lights. It is said indeed that, of late years, -yachting begins to decline in fashion; that the expensive craft are -allowed to take longer holidays, and that “Cowes week” is not filled -with such a cloud of canvas. It may well be that our “smart set” find -the winds and waves disturbing to the calculations of Bridge. - -During Cowes’ water-carnival, some of the finest yachts afloat may still -be seen at anchor off the R. Y. S. Clubhouse, standing out prominently -on the sea-front, with its flagstaff and jetty, at which only members -and officers of the navy are privileged to land, under the muzzles of a -miniature battery brought from Virginia Water for holiday service. This -building, whose glass gallery is the grand stand of yacht racing, has -been adapted from the old castle of Henry VIII., in the seventeenth -century used as a state prison. Here Sir William Davenant spent his -hours of confinement in writing an heroic poem, _Gondibert_, which one -fears to be hardly read nowadays, unless it makes part of prison -libraries. There are some score cantos of it, filling eight score or so -of folio pages; and this, as in the contemporary case of the bear and -the fiddle, brings the story only to the middle, for as the author puts -it in metaphors readily suggested at Cowes, “‘tis high time to strike -Sail, and cast Anchor (though I have run but half my Course) when at the -helm I am threatened with Death, who, though he can visit us but once, -seems troublesome, and even in the Innocent may beget such a gravity as -diverts the Musick of Verse.” - -The parade of Cowes runs on beyond the castle, past gardened villas, to -open out as the Green, a strip of sward set with seats that make the pit -of the open-air theatre for which the Solent is stage in its -yacht-racing season. At the end of this is the point marked by a brick -ivy-clad mansion called Egypt, why so called, one knows not, unless that -the name, occurring elsewhere in England, seems sometimes connected with -gipsy memories. Did one wish to go gipsying, this end of Cowes was once -fairly well adapted for such purposes; but cottages of gentility keep on -spreading along the sea edge. - -At Egypt is the bathing beach, from which the sea wall extends onward -towards a bank of wild shrubbery called the “Copse,” a miniature -Undercliff, where, rooted in singularly tenacious mud, an almost -impassable jungle offers scope for the adventurous imagination of youth. -This is skirted by a rough path above the shore, where at morn and eve -may be seen flesh and blood _replicas_ of Frederick Walker’s “Bathers,” -or of Mr Tuke’s “August Blue” scene, exhibited “without the formality of -an apparatus,” as the Oxford man in _Humphrey Clinker_ has it. As for -the bathing-machines further back, a guide-book of his generation states -that “from the manner in which they are constructed, and the position -they occupy, a person may safely commit himself to the bosom of Neptune -at almost any state of the tide.” Yet one may hint to strangers not -desirous of committing themselves to Abraham’s bosom, that the currents -run strong here, and that some parts of the shallow shore deepen -suddenly. - -One of the sandiest bathing-places on this shore is at Gurnard’s Bay, -about two miles along, which has an hotel of its own and other -beginnings of a seaside resort. This used to be a landing-place from the -mainland; and here was the site of another Roman villa. The guide-books -of a future generation may have more to say about Gurnard’s Bay; but I -must ask the reader now to turn back to Cowes. - -At the back of the town is its Church, built in the time of the -Commonwealth, that did not much foster church architecture; and behind -this stands the manorial mansion of Northwood Park in somewhat gloomy -grounds opened by funereally classical gates. The older parish church is -that of Northwood, some way inland, which itself, in its day, had been -an offshoot of Carisbrooke. Northwood Park hived for a time the foreign -nuns who lately swarmed to other quarters at Ryde. This mansion had long -been looked on by true blue Protestants as a half-way house to Rome, -when it was the home of William George Ward, a prominent name in the -“Oxford Movement” that so much shifted the Anglican establishment’s -centre of gravity. He went over to the Roman Church, and moved to -another house near Totland Bay, where his neighbour Tennyson had warm -words to say over his grave-- - - My friend, the most unworldly of mankind, - Most generous of all ultramontanes, Ward, - How subtle at tierce and quart of mind with mind, - How loyal in the following of thy Lord! - -The chief hotels and lodging-houses are found on that part of the parade -east of the “Squadron,” which at one time occupied the Gloucester Hotel. -The crooked main street leads us to the river suburb of Mill Hill, and -to the floating bridge by which the Medina is crossed to East Cowes. -There has been talk of a tunnel here, as under broader channels; but the -amphibious folk of this port are still content with their ferry. - -East Cowes, though at one time the more important side, has long been -eclipsed by its western neighbour. It may be described as a suburb of -ambitious roads mounting the wooded background from a rather mean -frontage, so as to bring into curious juxtaposition some characteristics -of Norwood and Rotherhithe. At the seaward end it has a short esplanade -of its own, from which is to be had a fine sunset view over the Solent. -The old fortress on this side has entirely disappeared. The most -interesting house here is Slatwoods, the boyhood’s home of Dr Arnold of -Rugby, his father having been collector of customs at this port. Arnold, -born in a house at West Cowes now marked by a tablet, but brought up on -the other side, always had - -[Illustration: OSBORNE HOUSE] - -an affection for Slatwoods, and slips of its great willow tree were -transplanted to his successive homes at Laleham, Rugby, and Fox How. - -East Cowes is shut in by the grounds of East Cowes Castle and Norris -Castle, mansions of the modern Gothic period, that have had noble -occupants and royal guests. Norris Castle, at the point of the estuary -open to briny breezes from every quarter, was in 1833 tenanted by the -Duchess of Kent, sea-air having been ordered for her daughter’s precious -health. The Princess Victoria made here a collection of sea-weeds which -she presented to her friend Maria da Gloria, the girl-queen of Portugal; -and no doubt in this sequestered nook she was able to go about more -freely than at Bognor or Brighton. She seems to have much enjoyed her -stay on the Solent, probably then taking a fancy to this neighbourhood, -which in later life led to the purchase of Osborne, her favourite -residence when Balmoral was too bleakly bracing. The park begins beyond -the ascent out of East Cowes, extending along the wooded northern shore -towards the small inlet called King’s Quay, that pretends to be a -landing-place of King John, who, after signing Magna Charta, is -dubiously said to have sulked here among the pirates of the Island. - -Osborne Manor, whose name has been clipped to so aristocratic a sound, -would have been originally no more than an _Austerbourne_ or -_Oyster-bed_, that, from the Bowermans, an old Island family not yet -extinct, came to belong to one Eustace Mann, who, during the troubles -of the Civil War, is supposed to have buried a mass of gold and silver -coins in a coppice still known as Money Coppice, and having forgotten to -mark the spot, was never afterwards able to recover his treasure. Had it -been found in the course of the last half century, a curious lawsuit -might have arisen between the rights of the Crown and of the Queen as -private owner. By marriage the estate came into the hands of the -Blachfords. From Lady Isabella Blachford it was purchased by Queen -Victoria in 1840, who enlarged her property here to an area of upwards -of 5000 acres, bounded north by the Solent, south by the Ryde and -Newport road, east by the inlet of King’s Quay, and west by the Medina. - -The Blachford mansion, spoken of a century ago as one of the largest and -best in the Island, gave place to the palace of Osborne, royally adorned -with pictures and statuary, that turns its Palladian face to the Solent, -while from the road behind only the flag tower and campanile can be seen -peeping above the rich foliage of the park. A “Swiss Cottage” contained -the model dairy and kitchen, where the princesses are understood to have -been instructed in housewifely arts, and a museum of curiosities -collected by the princes in their travels through an empire on which the -sun never sets. At Barton Manor-house, a picturesque old mansion added -to the estate and adapted as residence of the steward, was the Prince -Consort’s home-farm, which “a Mr Wilkinson, a clergyman” is quoted in -guide-books as praising for a model of all that could be done to make -the best of a naturally poor soil. The late Queen’s love of seclusion -prompted her to increase and enclose her demesne, till she could drive -for miles in her own grounds, kept strictly private during the royal -residence. - -Behind Osborne, overlooking the Medina, is Whippingham Church, whose -parish takes in Osborne and East Cowes, as West Cowes was a dependent on -Northwood. This church, sometimes attended by the royal family, is rich -in mortuary memorials, among them Theed’s monument of the Prince -Consort, placed here by “his broken-hearted and devoted widow, Queen -Victoria,” and the chapel that is the tomb of Prince Henry of -Battenberg, married in Whippingham Church, 1885. The structure, finely -situated, has a singularly un-English look, its German Romanesque -features understood to have been inspired by the taste of the Prince -Consort, on which account her late Majesty’s loyal subjects would fain -have admired the effect, as many of them could not honestly do. A wicked -tale is told of a gentleman well known in the architectural world, who, -on a visit at Whippingham, was surprised by a summons to Osborne. -Unfortunately, this stranger had not been furnished with a _carte du -pays_, and when the Queen led the conversation to Whippingham Church, -asking advice what should be done with it, he bluntly gave his opinion: -“The only thing to be done, madam, is to pull it all down!”--whereupon -the uncourtly adviser found his audience soon brought to an end. - -Other stories or legends are locally current, illustrating the -difficulties of etiquette that hampered her Majesty’s desire to be on -friendly terms with her less august neighbours. One hears of guests -scared off by the sight of a red cloth on the steps to mark how royalty -would be taking tea or counsel within; and of others suddenly bundled -out of the way, when the Queen’s unpretentious equipage was announced as -approaching. It seems that majesty’s neighbours were not all -neighbourly. A lady of title here is said to have closed her gates to -the Queen’s carriage, which never again took that direction. Such an -assertion of private rights would have astonished that high-titled -Eastern potentate, of whom it is told that, being entertained at the -seat of one of our greatest dukes, he advised the then Prince of Wales -to have their host executed without delay as much too powerful a -subject! - -After the death of Queen Victoria, the present Sovereign gave up this -estate to be in the main a public memorial of her, though Osborne -Cottage is still occupied by the Princess Henry of Battenberg, Governor -of the Island with which she has so many happy and sorrowful -associations. The palace has been in part adapted as a home for -convalescent officers, the room in which the Queen died and other - -[Illustration: WHIPPINGHAM CHURCH] - -apartments being kept as used by her, to make a sight at present open on -certain days. In the grounds are the new buildings of a Naval College, -whose cadets will be brought up in view of the famous anchorage haunted -by memories of our “wooden walls,” and often stirred by the mighty -machines that have taken their place, we trust, to the same good -purpose. - -Of all the naval pageants these shores have beheld, none could be more -impressive than when, that dull winter afternoon of 1901, stirred only -by tolling bells and booming minute guns, the body of Europe’s most -venerated Sovereign was borne across the Solent through a mile-long lane -of British and foreign war-ships, on her last journey to Windsor. - - - - -THE GATES OF THE ISLAND - - -Before turning away from the Solent, we may take a look at its northern -shores, and the mainland ports making gateways of the strait and island -that serve their populations as playground. - -Cowes lies opposite Southampton, with which it has direct communication -up the long inlet of Southampton Water, the least expeditious passage to -the Island, but the pleasantest in fine weather, most of the hour’s -voyage being by that wooded arm of the Solent, where on one side stretch -the heaths and copses of the New Forest’s Beaulieu corner; while the -other is broken by the mouths of the Hamble and of the Itchen. Between -these creeks, stands conspicuous the Netley Hospital, said to be the -longest building in England, overshadowing Netley Castle, adapted as a -modern mansion, and the picturesque old ruins of Netley Abbey, fallen to -be a junketing resort for Southampton. The Royal Victoria Hospital, a -name well earned by the late Queen’s interest in it, was built for -soldiers invalided in the Crimean War, and became to our army what the -Haslar Hospital, at Gosport, is to the navy. Netley Bay is now -headquarters of the Motor-Yacht Club, housed in an ex-Admiralty yacht. - -Too many of the Isle of Wight passengers who embark or land at -Southampton Pier, know not what a mistake they make in hurrying on -without a look at one of the most interesting old towns in England, -which from the railway or the docks may appear to be no more than one of -its most prosperous ports. The Northam and Southam of early days have -here grown into a still growing municipality, whose lively streets imbed -some most notable fragments of the past, now reverently preserved. The -largest portion of the walls is a stretch of curious archways facing the -west shore, behind which filthily picturesque slums have been cleared -away and replaced by a pile of model lodging-houses that our era of -sanitation puts in bold contrast with the Middle Ages. These Arcades, as -they are called, seem to have been the defensible entrances to a line of -mansions, very eligible for their period. Behind, beside the spire of -Southampton’s oldest church, is a Tudor house said to have accommodated -Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn on their brief honeymoon. The oldest of the -houses on the sea front, by the “King’s Quay” as it used to be called, -is believed to have been tenanted by King John, perhaps by Henry III; -and among the many King John’s lodges and King John’s palaces scattered -over England, this seems to have the best right to the honour thus -claimed for it. - -Further on, near the end of the pier, is the West Gate, under which -Henry V.’s men-at-arms and archers clanked out on their way to -Agincourt. - - Suppose that you have seen - The well-appointed king at Hampton pier - Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet - With silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning: - Play with your fancies, and in them behold - Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; - Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give - To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails, - Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, - Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, - Breasting the lofty surge: O do but think - You stand upon the rivage and behold - A city on the inconstant billows dancing; - For so appears this fleet majestical, - Holding due course to Harfleur. - -Such a floating city as Shakespeare saw here in his mind’s eye, would -seem but a hamlet beside the streets of craft from all the world that -now crowd Southampton docks. Behind them, near the foot of High Street, -is a building which, if tradition lie not, may boast itself the oldest -house in England, for, stable as it is now, it sets up to be a remnant -of King Canute’s residence, who on the shore hereabouts, perhaps enacted -his famous scene of commanding the waves, more effectually restrained by -the heroes of modern industry; but on that oft-told tale Leslie Stephen -drily remarks, “that an anecdote is simply the polite name of a lie.” - -From the Quay quarter, what a well-known novelist styles the “brightest, -airiest, lightest, prettiest High Street in England,” leads up to the -Bargate, imposing survival of mediæval architecture, with which -Southampton is proud to hamper her busy main thoroughfare, long after -prosaic Londoners have banished their obstructive Temple Bar. The long -street, hence known as “Above Bar,” goes out between pleasant parks, -then as a lordly avenue that begins one of the finest high-roads in the -kingdom, running on to Winchester. As this avenue is approached, on the -left stands a building that should be viewed with grateful respect by -all conscientious tourists and their guides, since it is the -headquarters of the Ordnance Survey maps. Further on, beside the road, -is reached Southampton Common, one of the prettiest natural parks and -playgrounds at the gate of any great town, seeming to be, what indeed it -is, a half cleared bit of the New Forest. - -The woods of the New Forest come within a few miles of Southampton, -which has other pleasant scenes about its salubrious site on a gravelly -spit projecting between the Itchen and the Test, angling streams of -fame. Its sea-front on the West Bay is hardly an admirable point unless -at high water, as it more often shows a green expanse of slime and -malodorous weed that by no means _ladet zum Baden_, fit rather for the -paddling of adventurous mud larks. But the citizens, more ingenious than -Canute, catch the elusive tide in a basin that makes an excellent -open-air swimming bath. The strong smell of seaweed is offensive to some -strangers, who may comfort themselves by considering it as wholesome: -had this rubbish bank been German, it would probably be utilised for -some sort of _Kur_, with a three weeks’ course of sanatory sniffs, and a -_Nach-kur_ of whey treatment in the Isle of Wight. Southampton had once -indeed a chalybeate spa of its own, to which its Victoria Rooms seems a -monument. - -This old seaport has had notable sons, from Isaac Watts, whose statue in -the park looks down on a flower-bed visited by busy bees, to Charles -Dibdin, whose nautical songs were not so well adapted to the restraint -of angry passions. If all tales be true, its oldest celebrity is that -Bevis of Hampton, whose story, indeed, inconvenient critics father upon -a twelfth century French romance; and it has certainly been told in -several languages: so far off as Venice, this widely popular hero is -found figuring as a sort of local Punch. But for the confusion of all -who doubt his Hampshire origin, the name Bevis Mount still preserves on -the Itchen bank the memory of a stronghold he threw up here against the -Danes; and who was he if not Bevis of Hampton? The story also gives him -a connection with the Isle of Wight; so, as we began with dull history, -let us draw towards an end with a taste of what, one fears, must count -rather as fiction, perhaps expanded about some core of legendary fact. - -_Sir Bevis of Hampton_ was one of the favourite romances of the feudal -age; and his adventures were familiar to John Bunyan’s unregenerate -youth, if little known to the Southampton boys who in our time pass the -sixth standard, however well versed they may be in our own “penny -dreadful” literature. Yet _Ivanhoe_, _Pathfinder_, and the _Three -Musketeers_ rolled into one, would make a tame hero beside Sir Bevis. As -became a hero, he had difficulties to contend with all along, the first -being an unnatural mother who, one grieves to say, was a Scottish -princess. Married to Guy, Earl of Southampton, whose name suggests some -connection with the still more famous lord of Warwick, she preferred a -foreign prince, Sir Murdour, a name that gives plain hint of his nature, -as well as a dim anticipation of David Copperfield’s tyrant. - -Guy being betrayed by his wife and slain by her paramour when Bevis was -only seven years old, the wicked pair’s next object would naturally be -to get rid of a child who might avenge his father. With a fortunate want -of wisdom often shown by the bad characters of romance, the mother did -not see to this business herself, but charged it on Saber, the child’s -uncle, by whom he had been reared; then the kind Saber, as proof of -compliance, sent her his nephew’s princely garments sprinkled with the -blood of a pig, while he kept the boy safe and sound, disguised as a -shepherd. But Bevis had too high a spirit to await the opportunity of -revenge promised by his uncle when he should come to manhood. Feeding -his sheep on the downs, he became so infuriated by the sounds of revelry -in which his mother and her new husband sought to drown the memory of -their crime, that he burst into the hall, knocking down the porter who -would have shut him out, unpacked his young heart of its indignation -before the whole company, and with three blows of a “mace” laid his -stepfather senseless before them all. Thus did this seven-year-old -princeling show a resolution that might well put Hamlet to shame; and as -he was so terrible with a stick, we may guess what feats he would -perform when it got to sword-play. - -The guilty mother was so much displeased by such conduct, that she -punished her precociously brave child by sending him to be sold for a -slave in heathen lands. Thereby he came into the hands of a Saracen king -named Ermyn, whose daughter, Josyan, at once fell in love with the young -captive, according to the romantic precedent followed in such cases down -to the days of Pocahontas. Ermyn, too, recognising the boy’s quality at -a glance, proposed to make him his heir and son-in-law on condition of -his abjuring Christianity. But the heroes of old were as orthodox as -gallant. Bevis, though not yet in his teens, lifted up such a bold -testimony against the errors of Mahound, that the king saw well to drop -the subject, and for the present took him on as page, promising him -further advancement in the course of time. Still no amount of friendly -intercourse with unbelievers could shake the youngster’s faith. He had -reached the age of fifteen, when certain Saracen knights rashly ventured -to touch on his religion, whereupon he slew them all, some sixty or so, -with remarkable ease. Ermyn forgave him for this once, and Josyan with -kisses and salves soon cured him of his wounds; then, in return for -their kindness, he obligingly rid them of a fearful wild boar that had -long been the terror of the country. - -These petty exploits had made merely the work of our hero’s ’prentice -hand; the time was now come for him to be dubbed a knight, presented on -the occasion with a marvellous sword called “Morglay,” and the best -horse in the world, by name “Arundel.” Ermyn had soon need of a peerless -champion. Bradmond, King of Damascus, was demanding Josyan’s hand, with -threats to lay waste the land if his suit were refused; but a lad of -mettle like Bevis, of course, found no difficulty in laying low that -proud Paynim and all his host. Josyan was so lost in admiration of such -prowess, that she proposed to her Christian knight after a somewhat -unmaidenly fashion; but Bevis would give her no encouragement till, for -his sake, she professed herself ready to renounce the Moslem faith. - -But when the king heard how his daughter was being converted to -Christianity, his patience came to an end. Not daring to use open -violence against the invincible youth, he sent him on an embassy to King -Bradmond, his late adversary, who at the point of Bevis’ sword had -lately sworn to be Ermyn’s vassal, and was now commanded, on his -allegiance, to secure the bearer of the sealed letter which Bevis -carried to his own destruction. The author of _Hamlet_ may have taken -another hint from this incident. But our impetuous knight needed no -treacherous credentials to get him into trouble. At Damascus he found a -crowd of Saracens worshipping an idol, which his sound principles moved -him to knock over into the mud with proper contempt: the Mohammedans, -whatever their doctrinal shortcomings might be, were, as a matter of -fact, strongly set against idolatry, but Christian minstrels allowed -themselves a poetical license on such points. King Bradmond and all his -men, backed by the fanatical population of Damascus, were odds too great -even for a pious hero. Bevis, fairly overpowered for once, was thrown -into a dungeon with two ravenous dragons to keep him company. It was -only a matter of some twenty-four hours’ combat for him to kill the -dragons with the butt-end of a staff that came to his hand; but hunger -proved a sorer enemy. Now we have the two most familiar lines of this -long poem, as quoted in _King Lear_-- - - Rats and mice and such small deer, - Were his meat for seven long year. - -At the end of seven years, he escaped by something like a miracle, and -after visiting Jerusalem, rode off to Josyan, whom he found still -faithful to him at heart, though formally the bride of an outrageous -heathen, the King of Mounbraunt. To his castle Bevis proceeded, not -without blood-curdling adventures on the way, and introduced himself as -a poor palmer, welcomed for the sake of her Christian lover by Josyan, -though she did not recognise him so soon as did his good horse Arundel, -that in its vehement excitement at his voice outdoes the fidelity of -Argus; then his springing on its back without touching a stirrup reveals -him like the bending of Ulysses’ bow. Having got the king out of the way -by means of a somewhat unchivalrous fib, Bevis and Josyan eloped -together, meeting encounters which showed how little his long -imprisonment had unsteeled the paladin’s sinews. His first feat was to -kill a brace of lions at one blow; and next he fell in with a giant -named Ascapard who, wounded all over his thirty feet of length, was glad -to save his life by becoming Bevis’ page. - -It was now high time for our hero to be turning homewards. Several years -back, before his imprisonment, he had casually fallen in with one of his -cousins, sent to search him out and bring him to the immediate -assistance of his uncle Saber, who had fled to the Isle of Wight for -refuge from the tyrant Murdour. As the first stage of his journey, Bevis -proceeded by sea to Cologne, where the bishop happened to be another -uncle of his, so he took the opportunity to have Josyan and Ascapard -christened, the latter behaving most irreverently under the rite, so as -to play the part of a mediæval gargoyle in the edifying story. The -bishop, for his part, used the opportunity of having such a champion at -hand to destroy a fiery dragon that infested the country; and in return -for this service of some little difficulty, equipped Sir Bevis with a -hundred knights, at the head of whom he landed in Hampshire, leaving -Josyan at Cologne with Ascapard in attendance. - -Under an assumed name, so grown and sun-tanned that his own mother -treated the stranger politely, he now introduced himself into the house -of Sir Murdour, undertaking to serve him against Saber, but playing a -trick on him in the way of carrying off his best horses and arms to the -enemy. Before coming to an end with that caitiff, however, Bevis had to -return to Cologne to rescue Josyan from certain perils she had got into -through her devotion to him; then at last they both joined his uncle in -the Isle of Wight. The local Macbeth’s fate now drew to its fifth act. -In vain he summoned to his aid both a Scotch and a German army. When he -had to do with such prodigies of strength as Bevis and Ascapard, Murdour -could expect nothing but to be overthrown, captured, and boiled into -hounds’ meat in a great caldron of pitch, brimstone, and lead, as duly -befell at Carisbrooke. His wicked wife, hearing how it had fared with -him, very properly threw herself from the top of a high tower. His -triple army had no more fight in them after the death of their leader, -and the delivered citizens of Southampton hailed with joy their true -lord, who at last thought himself entitled to wed Josyan after so long -and chequered a courtship. - -But the author of this long poem is not yet out of breath, and he still -takes his hero through what may be called an appendix of adventures, in -which Bevis once more goes abroad. King Edgar’s son so much admired -Arundel’s form in a horse-race at court, that he tried to steal this -peerless steed, and was kicked to death in the stable for his pains. The -angry father was for having the horse’s master hanged; but the barons -got him off with exile. While wandering homeless, his wife presents him -with twin sons, as fresh hostages to their troubled fortune. Ascapard -now turns unfaithful, and steals Josyan from him to restore her to her -Saracen husband; but after a separation of seven years or so all comes -right again, unbelievers and traitors are duly slain as they deserve, -and Bevis meets no further check in his triumphant career of baptising -heathen lands in blood, if not otherwise. Meanwhile, in his absence, -King Edgar spitefully did him further wrong by confiscating the family -estate, which the nephew had handed over to Saber. This injury must be -redressed by a visit of Bevis to London, where his exploits seem hardly -historical. He had now two sturdy sons to back him up, and these being -chips of the old block, they easily contrived to kill sixty thousand -people in a battle fought about Cheapside and Ludgate Hill, which -brought the king to a reasonable mood. - - So many men at once were never seen dead, - For the water of Thames for blood wax red - From St Mary Bowe to London Stone. - -In short, one of Bevis’ sons won the crown of England, with the hand of -its heiress; the brother was provided with a kingdom abroad; and Bevis -himself returned to another of his foreign dominions, to live happily -ever afterwards till, at a good old age, he, Josyan, and Arundel died -within a few minutes of each other, the knight and his true lady -sumptuously buried in a church, where even his dead body continued to -work miracles. - - Thus ended Bevis of Hampton - That was so bold a baron. - -Have I said enough to persuade strangers that they are wrong in not -stopping at Southampton on a visit to the tourist-haunted Island? To -Americans this port should be of special interest, as hence sailed the -_Mayflower_ and the _Speedwell_, freighted with the hopes of a New -England, but the smaller vessel proving unseaworthy, the adventurers, -all packed on board the _Mayflower_, finally embarked at Plymouth, which -thus gets credit for the departure of an expedition that really set out -from Delft Haven, winged by the parting charge of its large-minded -pastor. I had the pleasure of recommending a stay at Southampton West to -Mr W. D. Howells, who in a recent book owns to having enjoyed it; and -indeed there is more to be seen and enjoyed in or about Southampton than -at many places better famed in the tourist world. - -On the west side of Southampton Water, through outskirts of the New -Forest, is soon reached the Boldre River, near the mouth of which stands -Lymington, a town before mentioned as pier of the shortest crossing to -the Island, at its Yarmouth end, where it has been proposed to make a -tunnel from the spit on which Hurst Castle rises. Of Lymington there is -not much else to be said, but that it has a look of having come down in -the world, its trade of shipbuilding not being what it once was, though -the estuary still makes a station for yachts. From the open sea it is -separated by flats, that were utilised as salterns. The scenery in the -background is more taking, where the edge of the New Forest plantations -is soon reached over the heathy swells of Sway Common. - -Westward, the crumbling cliffs of the coast are fringed by groups of -hotels and lodging-houses growing along Christchurch Bay to Highcliffe -Castle, which was recently selected as _Kur-ort_ for the Kaiser, who -here seems to have profited by the mild air and by the views of the Isle -of Wight that are the chief attraction of this shore. He may also have -admired the prospect on Hengistbury Head, which some stories make the -scene of the first German invasion of England. Then beyond the mouth of -the Stour and Avon, are reached the purlieus of Bournemouth, where the -Island drops out of sight. - -On the other side, between Lymington and Southampton Water, extends to -the Solent a heathy projection of the New Forest, not so much known to -strangers as it deserves. The centre of interest here is the ruined -Beaulieu Abbey, from the materials of which Henry VIII. is said to have -built Hurst Castle, while its foundation is the one good deed recorded -of King John, and that wrung out of him with as much pain as was Magna -Charta. The legend goes that this graceless king, bearing a grudge -against the Cistercian Order, had persuaded or compelled its abbots to -attend a parliament at Lincoln, where he threatened to fling them under -the feet of wild horses. But at night he was terrified by a dream: -brought to trial before a nameless judge, with the churchmen he had -menaced for witnesses against him, he found himself condemned to a -severe scourging at their hands, like his father’s chastisement for the -death of Thomas à Becket. And lo! when he awoke, the lashes had left no -visionary smart. So he saw wise to make expiation for the sacrilege he -had meditated; then his repentance took the established form of building -and endowing a Cistercian Abbey at Beaulieu. The remains still make a -hoary show by the Beaulieu River, further down which Buckler’s Hard was -once a building place of men-of-war; and at the mouth was an old ferry -to the Island. There is not much traffic now about this muddy shore, -near which, towards Lymington, Sowley Pond takes rank as the largest -Hampshire lake. The Solent, here locked in by the Isle of Wight, has the -aspect of a great lake in views that Cobbett took to bear out the title -_Bellus locus_, vernacularly corrupted into _Bewley_. And, as I have -given a catalogue of novels dealing with the Island, let me mention an -excellent one, Mr A. Marshall’s _Exton Manor_, which clearly has for its -scene this edge of the New Forest. - -The chief Solent ferry is, of course, at Portsmouth, whereof tourists -might do well to see more than is seen from the railway line to its -pier, the main knot of Isle of Wight communications, while by Gosport -and Southsea, on either side of the town, are alternative crossings to -Ryde. Portsmouth is not so rich in antiquities as Southampton, its most -notable buildings being the fine modern Church of Portsea, one of the -grandest town-halls in England, and the largest Naval Barracks in the -world; but it is an ancient place, interesting as our chief marine -arsenal, which in case of war might become a Sebastopol or a Port -Arthur. Like Plymouth, it is rather a group of towns, Portsmouth, -Portsea, and Southsea, run together beside the wide inlet of the -harbour, on the other side of which stands Gosport. Naturally it has a -marked naval flavour, strongest on the Hard, familiar to so many -generations of Jacks and Sues, behind which the narrow main street of -Landport makes such a lively scene of a Saturday night. Off Gosport Hard -is moored the old _Victory_, whose deck no Briton can tread without -pride, nor would a generous enemy be unmoved on the spot where “mighty -Nelson fell,” and in the gloomy cockpit where he died. Portsmouth has -for another shrine the birthplace of Charles Dickens, at No. 387 -Commercial Road, Landport, now cared for as public property and -containing a collection of relics. Walter Besant was also a native, who -has celebrated the scenes of his boyhood in _Celia’s Arbour_. - -The great sight is the Dockyard, over which all visitors who can glory -in the name of Briton are conducted by its garrison of Metropolitan -Police; but foreigners must bring special credentials for admission. A -visit to the _enceinte_ of fortifications cannot be recommended, as -these are of a modestly retiring disposition, and make a purposed blank -on the faithful Ordnance Survey maps. Beyond the fort-crowned Downs -behind, some fine country may be reached by tram; but the scenery of the -low island on which Portsmouth has its site, too much consists of -bastions, barracks, prisons, and other useful, but unlovely -institutions. - -Southsea, the moral West End of Portsmouth, which is at its east end, -holds out most attractions to tarrying strangers. It seems a favourite -place of residence or sojourn for retired or idle officers of both -services, who enjoy the stir of parades and regimental bands, and the -view of the Solent always alive with yachts, steamers, and men-of-war; -but it is not so well adapted for a quiet family bathing-place, unless -to the taste of nursery maids, who here would be well off for red-coated -and blue-jacketed “followers.” A special feature is the wide Common -cutting off the houses from the sea-front, with its gay piers and long -esplanade leading round the modernised walls of Southsea Castle. Hence -let us take our last gaze upon the wooded shores of the Isle of Wight, -where, four or five miles off across the Solent, Ryde steeple stands up -as the starting-point of our arm-chair tour, now to be ended, I trust, -with the reader’s gratuity of good-will towards his _cicerone_. - - - - -INDEX - - -Adams, Rev. W., 84 - -Afton Down, 103 - -Albert, Prince, 107, 151 - -Alexandrian Pillar, 92 - -_All Moonshine_, 137 - -Alum Bay, 115 - -Alverston, 62 - -_Amours Anglais_, 128 - -Approaches to Island, 17, 154 - -Appuldurcombe, 52 - -Arnold of Rugby, 148 - -Arreton, 57 - -Ashey Down, 57 - -Atherfield Point, 99 - - -Back of the Island, 77, 92 - -Badd, E., Epitaph on, 31 - -Barton Manor-house, 150 - -Battenberg, Prince of, 11, 151 - -Battenberg, Princess Beatrice, 11, 46, 152 - -Beaulieu, 168 - -Bembridge, 60 - -Bembridge Down, 61 - -Benedictine Monks, 27, 53 - -Benson, story of, 64 - -Bevis of Hampton, romance, 41, 158 - -Binstead, 25 - -Black, William, _quoted_, 90 - -Blackgang Chine, 97 - -“Blue Slipper,” the, 77 - -Bonchurch, 83 - -Bordwood Forest, 62 - -Bouldnor Cliffs, 123 - -Brading, 54 - -Brighstone or Brixton, 101 - -Brook Point, 102 - -Buddle Inn, 89 - - -Calbourne, 124 - -Cameron, Mrs, 106 - -Captains of the Island, 8 - -Carisbrooke, 36 - ---- Castle, 39 - -Caves at Freshwater, 112 - -Chale, 98 - -Chale Bay, 96 - -Charles I., imprisonment of, 41 - -Chines, formation of, 74 - -Clarke, Sir James, 78 - -Climate, 14 - -Colepeper, Lord, 9 - -Colwell Bay, 118 - -Compton Bay, 102 - -Consumption Hospital, 88 - -Cook’s Castle, 74 - -Cowes, 139 - -Cripple Path, the, 89 - -Culver Cliffs, 61 - - -_Dairyman’s Daughter, The_, 58 - -Davenant’s _Gondibert_, 145 - -De Montague, “Count.” _See_ Benson - -Dewar, Mr G. A. B., _quoted_, 29 - -Downs, the, 2, 48, 53, 62, 82, 92, etc. - -Dunnose, 75 -East Cowes, 148 - -Egypt Point, 146 - -Elizabeth, Princess, 35, 44 - -Empress Eugenie, escape of, 23 - -Englefield, Sir Henry, _quoted_, 22, 98, 115 - -_Eurydice_, loss of the, 75 - - -Fairfax family in America, 10 - -Farringford, 106 - -Fielding at Ryde, 20 - -Fishbourne, 27 - -Fitz-Osborne, William, 7 - -_Flora Vectensis_, 16 - -Foghorns, 94 - -Foreland, the, 60 - -Fossil Forest, 102 - -Freshwater, 104 - -Freshwater Bay, 104, 112 - - -Garde Family, 50 - -Gatcombe, 53 - -Geology of the Island, 2, 100 - -Gloucester, Duke of, 44 - -Godshill, 49 - -Gosport, 169 - -Governors of the Island, 10 - -Grange Chine, 101 - -Gurnard Bay, 48, 147 - - -Hammond, Colonel, 41 - -Hamstead Ledges, 123 - -Harringford, 62 - -Haven Street, 28 - -Headon Hill, 117 - -Highcliffe Castle, 167 - -History of Island, 5 - -Holmes, O. W., _quoted_, 15 - -Holmes, Sir Robert, 120 - -Hopson, Sir T., 121 - -Horsey, Sir E., 8, 13, 34 - -Howells, Mr W. D., 81, 166 - -Hulverston, 102 - -Hurst Castle, 44, 118, 167 - - -Industries of the Island, 13 - -Invasion, alarms of, 95, 122 - -Isabella de Fortibus, 8, 62 - - -James, Rev. E. B., 38, 56 - -_Jane the Young Cottager_, 55 - -Jeffrey, Lord, _quoted_, 73 - -John, King, 149, 155, 168 - - -Keats in the Island, 47, 73 - -Ken, Bishop, 101 - -King of the Island, 8 - -King’s Quay, 149 - -Kingston, 100 - -Knighton, 58 - - -Ladder Chine, 99 - -Lake, 62 - -Landslip, the, 85 - -Lira, Monks of, 7 - -Lisle Family, 27 - -Longfellow in the Island, 73 - -Long Stone, the, 101 - -“Lot’s Wife,” 114 - -Luccombe Chine, 75 - -Lugley Stream, the, 33 - -Lymington, 17, 119, 167 - - -Main Bench, the, 113 - -Mantell the geologist, _quoted_, 102 - -Medina River, 3, 34, 48, 139 - -Meredith, Mr George, _quoted_, 126 - -Merston Junction, 49, 62 - -Military Road, the, 100 - -Moberley, Bishop, 101 - -Monks’ Bay, 84 - -Morland, George, 122 - -Morley, Henry, 39 - -Mottistone, 101 - - -Naval College at Osborne, 153 - -Needles, the, 114 - -Netley, 154 - -Nettleston Green, 31 - -Newchurch, 62 - -New Forest, the, 157 - -Newport, 33 - -Newton, 123 - -Niton, 90 - -“Noah’s Nuts,” 111 - -Nodes, the, 113 - -Norris Castle, 149 - -Northwood, 147 - -Novels about the Island, 125 - -Nuns from abroad, 147 - -Nunwell, 55 - - -Oglander, Sir John, 11, 26, 31, 47, 50, 54, 139 - -Osborne, 149 - -Osborne, Dorothy, 38 - - -Pan Down, 49 - -Parkhurst Forest, 46, 123 - -Peel’s _Fair Isle_, _quoted_, 100 - -Population of Island, 4 - -Portsmouth, 17, 169 - -Pound Green, 106 - -Priory Bay, 31 - -Puckaster Cove, 89 - -Puckpool Fort, 30 - - -Quarr Abbey, 25 - -Queen’s Bower, 62 - - -Railways of Island, 17, 33 - -_Ralph Roister Doister_, 124 - -Redvers Family, 7, 25 - -Rew Down, 83 - -Reynolds, J. H., 35 - -Richmond, Rev. Legh, 55 - -Rocken End, 96 - -Roman villas, 6 - ---- Brading, 57 - ---- Carisbrooke, 39 - -Ross, Alexander, 38 - -Rowborough remains, 48 - -_Royal George_, loss of, 22 - -Royal Yacht Squadron, 144 - -Ryde, 19 - - -St Boniface Down, 82 - -St Catherine’s Down, 92 - -St Catherine’s Point Lighthouse, 93 - -St George’s Down, 48 - -St Helens, 31, 59 - -St John’s, 28 - -St Lawrence, 88 - -Sandown, 62 - -Sandrock, 90 - -School Green, 106 - -Scott, Sir W., _quoted_, 48 - -Scottish Soldiers in Island, 47 - -Scratchell’s Bay, 113 - -Sea View, 28 - -Seismological Observatory, Dr Milne’s, 49 - -Sewell, Elizabeth, 16, 84 - -Shanklin, 72 - -Sheepwash Green, 106 - -Shide, 49 - -Shipwrecks, 96 - -Shorwell, 100 - -Simeon, Sir John, 36 - -Solent, the, 1, 28, 143, 154, 168, 170 - -Solent Tunnel, proposed, 120 - -Southampton, 17, 155 - -Southsea, 170 - -Spithead, 22 - -Spring Vale, 30 - -“Squadron,” the, 144 - -Steephill Castle, 81 - -Stephens, William, 38 - -Sterling, John, 84 - -Swainston, 124 - -Swinburne, Mr A. C., _quoted_, 89 - - -Temple, Sir W., 39 - -Tennyson, Lady, 110 - -Tennyson, Lord, 14, 106, 111, 148 - -Totland Bay, 117 - -“Turf Frauds” case, the, 70 - -Tyndall, Professor, 113 - - -Udall, Nicholas, 124 - -Undercliff, the, 77 - - -Vane, Sir H., 44 - -Ventnor, 78 - -Victoria, Queen, 149 - - -Walpen Chine, 99 - -Ward, W. G., 147 - -Wardens of the Island, 8 - -Webster, T., _quoted_, 85, 116 - -Week Down, 83, 92 - -Whippingham, 151 - -Whitecliff Bay, 61 - -Whitwell, 53 - -Wilberforce, Bishop, 101 - -“Wilderness,” the, 48 - -Wilfred of Selsey, 7, 56 - -Wilkes, John, 63 - -William the Conqueror at Carisbrooke, 7 - -Wishing Well, 82 - -Woodvile, Sir E., 8 - -Wootton, 27 - -Wordsworth in the Island, 112 - -Worsley Family, the, 49 - -Worsley, Sir R., 8, 52 - -Worsley Monument, 53 - -Wroxall, 75 - - -Yar, the Eastern, 3, 59, 62 - -Yar, the Western, 3, 104, 118 - -Yachting, 142 - -Yarborough, Lord, 52 - -Yarbridge, 57 - -Yarmouth, 119 - -Yaverland, 61 - - -Zangwill, Mr I., _quoted_, 126 - -PRINTED BY OLIVER AND BOYD, EDINBURGH - -[Illustration: BLACK’S BEAUTIFUL BOOKS] - -ALL WITH FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -THE =20s.= SERIES - -ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED - -Size 9×6¼ ins. - -Painted and Described by -FRANCES E. 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GOFF - -Florence and some Tuscan Cities - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by JOHN FULLEYLOVE, R.I. -Described by -REV. J. A. M’CLYMONT, M.A., D.D. - -Greece - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By M. H. SPIELMANN, F.S.A., -and G. S. LAVARD - -Kate Greenaway - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS (51 IN -COLOUR) AND NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS -IN THE TEXT - -By NICO JUNGMAN -Text by BEATRIX JUNGMAN - -Holland - -76 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by JOHN FULLEYLOVE, R.I. -Described by REV. JOHN KELMAN, M.A - -The Holy Land - -92 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS, MOSTLY IN COLOUR - -By MORTIMER MENPES, R.I. -Text by FLORA A. STEEL - -India - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by FRANCIS S. WALKER, R.H.A. -Described by FRANK MATHEW - -Ireland - -77 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by ELLA DU CANE -Described by RICHARD BAGOT - -The Italian Lakes - -69 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By MORTIMER MENPES, R.I. -Text by DOROTHY MENPES - -Japan - -100 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -=>PUBLISHED BY A. AND C. BLACK · SOHO SQUARE · LONDON · W. -AND OBTAINABLE THROUGH ANY BOOKSELLER AT HOME OR ABROAD - -ALL WITH FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Size 9 × 6¼ ins. - -Painted by W. BISCOMBE GARDNER -Described by W. TEIGNMOUTH SHORE - -Kent - -73 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by ROSE BARTON, A.R.W.S. - -Familiar London - -60 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by W. L. WYLLIE, A.R.A. -Described by MARIAN AMY WYLLIE - -London to the Nore - -60 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted and Described by -PHILIP NORMAN, F.S.A. - -London Vanished and Vanishing - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by -HERBERT M. MARSHALL, R.W.S. -Described by G. E. MITTON - -The Scenery of London - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By SIR WALTER GILBEY, Bt. - -George Morland - -50 FULL-PAGE REPRODUCTIONS IN COLOUR OF THE ARTIST’S BEST WORK - -Painted by A. S. FORREST -Described by S. L. BENSUSAN - -Morocco - -74 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By AUGUSTINE FITZGERALD -Text by SYBIL FITZGERALD - -Naples - -80 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by NORMAN WILKINSON -Described by H. LAWRENCE SWINBURNE - -The Royal Navy - -61 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by NICO JUNGMAN -Described by BEATRIX JUNGMAN - -Norway - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by JOHN FULLEYLOVE, R.I. -Described by EDWARD THOMAS - -Oxford - -60 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted and Described by -WILLIAM SCOTT - -The Riviera - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by ALBERTO PISA -Text by -M. A. R. TUKER and HOPE MALLESON - -Rome - -70 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by SUTTON PALMER -Described by A. R. HOPE MONCRIEFF - -Bonnie Scotland - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by NORMAN H. HARDY -Described by E. WAY ELKINGTON, F.R.G.S. - -The Savage South Seas - -68 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted and Described by EDGAR T. A. WIGRAM - -Northern Spain - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by SUTTON PALMER -Described by A. R. HOPE MONCRIEFF - -Surrey - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by WILFRID BALL, R.E. - -Sussex - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by MORTIMER MENPES, R.I. -Text by G. E. MITTON - -The Thames - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By MORTIMER MENPES, R.I. -Text by DOROTHY MENPES - -Venice - -100 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by ROBERT FOWLER, R.I. -Described by EDWARD THOMAS - -Beautiful Wales - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By MORTIMER MENPES, R.I. -Text by DOROTHY MENPES - -War Impressions - -99 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by FRED. WHITEHEAD, R.B.A. -Described by CLIVE HOLLAND - -Warwickshire - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by WALTER TYNDALE -Described by CLIVE HOLLAND - -Wessex - -75 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By MORTIMER MENPES, R.I. -Text by DOROTHY MENPES - -World’s Children - -100 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - - - -THE =10s.= SERIES - -ALL WITH FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Size 9 × 6¼ ins. - -Painted by WILLIAM SMITH, Jun. -Described by A. R. HOPE MONCRIEFF - -The Highlands and Islands of Scotland - -40 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by A. FORESTIER -Described by G. W. T. OMOND - -Bruges And West Flanders - -37 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by NICO JUNGMAN -Described by G. E. MITTON - -Normandy - -40 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -_A DETAILED PROSPECTUS, containing a specimen plate, of any volume -in this List will be sent on application to the Publishers._ - -=> PUBLISHED BY A. AND C. BLACK · SOHO SQUARE · LONDON · W. -AND OBTAINABLE THROUGH ANY BOOKSELLER AT HOME OR ABROAD - - * * * * * - -THE =7s. 6d.= SERIES - -ALL WITH FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Size 9 x 6¼ ins. - -Painted by WILLIAM SMITH, Jun. -Described by REV. W. S. CROCKETT - -Abbotsford - -30 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By C. LEWIS HIND - -Adventures among Pictures - -34 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS (8 IN COLOUR AND 16 IN BLACK AND WHITE) - -By GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND, R.I. - -The Beautiful Birthday Book - -13 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR -DECORATIVE BORDERS BY A. A. TURBAYNE - -Painted by A. FORESTIER -Described by G. W. T. OMOND - -Brabant & East Flanders - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Text by A. CROXTON SMITH -Painted by G. VERNON STOKES - -British Dogs at Work - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by W. BISCOMBE GARDNER -Described by W. TEIGNMOUTH SHORE - -Canterbury - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by JOHN FULLEYLOVE, R.I. -Text by ROSALINE MASSON - -Edinburgh - -21 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted and Described by -DION CLAYTON CALTHROP - -English Costume - -In Four Sections, each containing 18 to -20 full-page Illustrations in Colour, -and many Illustrations in the text: - - Section I. Early English - “ II. Middle Ages - “ III. Tudor and Stuart - “ IV. Georgian, etc. - - Price 7s. 6d. net each. - -Painted by GEORGE S. ELGOOD, R.I. -Text by ALFRED AUSTIN, _Poet Laureate_ - -The Garden that I Love - -16 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By ALFRED AUSTIN -Painted by GEORGE S. ELGOOD, R.I. - -Lamia’s Winter Quarters - -16 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR, -AND 13 HEAD AND TAIL PIECES BY -WILLIAM SCOTT - -By LADY BUTLER -Painter of “The Roll Call” - -Letters from the Holy Land - -16 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY LADY BUTLER - -Painted by JOHN FULLEYLOVE, R.I. -Described by A. R. HOPE MONCRIEFF - -Middlesex - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted and Described by -MRS. WILLINGHAM RAWNSLEY - -The New Forest - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by ARTHUR GEORGE BELL -Described by NANCY E. BELL - -Nuremberg - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by H. J. DOBSON, R.S.W., A.R.C.A. -Described by WILLIAM SANDERSON - -Scottish Life and Character - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS and -his daughter MARGARET -Painted by J. HANDWICKE LEWIS -With a Preface by MRS. VAUGHAN -(MARGARET SYMONDS) - -Our Life in the Swiss Highlands - -22 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS -(20 IN COLOUR) - -Painted by HELEN ALLINGHAM, R.W.S. -Described by ARTHUR H. PATERSON - -The Homes of Tennyson - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By C. LEWIS HIND - -Days with Velasquez - -24 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS (8 IN -COLOUR AND 16 IN BLACK AND WHITE) - -By OLIVER GOLDSMITH - -The Vicar of Wakefield - -13 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR -BY AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY ARTIST - -Painted by JOHN FULLEYLOVE, R.I. -Text by MRS. A. MURRAY SMITH - -Westminster Abbey - -21 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by GEORGE M. HENTON -Described by SIR RICHARD RIVINGTON HOLMES, K.C.V.O. - -Windsor - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By GORDON HOME - -Yorkshire - -Coast and Moorland Scenes - -32 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted and Described by GORDON HOME - -Yorkshire - -Dales and Pells - -20 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - - - -THE =6s.= SERIES - -ALL WITH FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by FRANCIS S. WALKER, R.H.A. -Described by FRANK MATHEW - -Ireland - -32 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Described by F. J. SNELL - -North Devon - -26 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by A. S. FORREST -Described by JOHN HENDERSON - -Jamaica - -24 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted and Described by A. HEATON COOPER - -The Norwegian Fjords - -24 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by J. HAMILTON HAY -Described by WALTER SCOTT - -Liverpool - -24 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by MORTIMER MENPES, R.I. -Text by DOROTHY MENPES - -Paris - -24 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR -AND NUMEROUS LINE ILLUSTRATIONS -IN THE TEXT - -Painted by C. E. HANNAFORD -Described by CHAS. R. ROWE, M.J.I. - -South Devon - -24 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -Painted by J. HARDWICKE LEWIS -Described by SPENCER C. MUSSON - -The Upper Engadine - -24 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -=>PUBLISHED BY A. AND C. BLACK · SOHO SQUARE · LONDON · W. -AND OBTAINABLE THROUGH ANY BOOKSELLER AT HOME OR ABROAD - - * * * * * - -BOOKS FOR ANGLERS - -Price 7s. 6d. net each - -Size 8 × 5½ ins. - -Edited by F. G. AFLALO - -Fishermen’s Weather - -Opinions and Experiences by 100 well-known Anglers - -CONTAINING 8 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS -IN COLOUR FROM PICTURES BY CHARLES -WHYMPER, F.Z.S. - -By W. EARL HODGSON - -Trout Fishing - -(SECOND EDITION) - -CONTAINING FRONTISPIECE AND A MODEL -BOOK OF FLIES IN COLOUR - -By W. EARL HODGSON - -Salmon Fishing - -CONTAINING 8 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS -IN COLOUR, INCLUDING MODEL CASES OF -74 VARIETIES OF SALMON FLIES, AND 10 -FULL-PAGE REPRODUCTIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS - - - -MISCELLANEOUS BOOKS - -ALL WITH FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -By MORTIMER MENPES, R.I., R.E. - -Rembrandt - -With an Essay on the Life and Work of Rembrandt by C. LEWIS HIND - -DEMY QUARTO, CLOTH, GILT TOP (11 × 8¼ INCHES). PRICE 12s. 6d. NET - -16 EXAMPLES OF THE MASTER’S WORK, REPRODUCED IN COLOUR - FACSIMILE BY A SPECIAL PROCESS - -By SIR WALTER SCOTT - -The Lady of the Lake - -LARGE CROWN OCTAVO, CLOTH, GILT TOP - -PRICE 5s. NET - -50 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS (8 OF THEM IN COLOUR, FROM - PAINTINGS BY SUTTON PALMER) - -By W. C. STEWART - -The Practical Angler -or, the Art of Trout Fishing, more -particularly applied to Clear Water - -LARGE CROWN OCTAVO, CLOTH - -PRICE 3s. 6d. NET - -CONTAINING COLOURED FACSIMILES OF -THE FLIES USED BY MR. STEWART -(6 PLATES) - -THE PORTRAIT BIOGRAPHIES SERIES. - -Size 6¼ × 4 ins. - -By MORTIMER and DOROTHY MENPES - -Sir Henry Irving - -CONTAINING 8 PORTRAITS OF IRVING IN COLOUR - -PRICE 2s. NET - - - -BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS - -ALL WITH FULL-PAGE -ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -PRICE =6s.= EACH - -Size 8¼ × 6 ins. - -By S. R. CROCKETT - -Red Cap Tales - -Stolen from the Treasure-Chest of the Wizard of the North - -16 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY SIMON HARMON VEDDER - -Edited by G. E. MITTON - -Swiss Family Robinson - -12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY HARRY ROUNTREE - -By ASCOTT R. HOPE - -Adventures of Punch - -12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY STEPHEN BAGHOT DE LA BERE - -_ANIMAL AUTOBIOGRAPHIES_ - -The Black Bear. By H. PERRY ROBINSON -The Cat. By VIOLET HUNT -The Dog. By G. E. MITTON -The Fox. By J.C. TREGARTHEN -The Rat. By G. M. A. HEWETT -The Squirrel. By T. C. BRIDGES - -EACH CONTAINING 12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - -_Others in preparation._ - -Translated and Abridged by DOMINICK DALY - -The _Adventures_ of Don Quixote - -12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY STEPHEN BAGHOT DE LA BERE - -Gulliver’s Travels - -16 full-page illustrations in colour BY STEPHEN BAGHOT DE LA BERE - -By JOHN BUNYAN - -The Pilgrim’s Progress - -8 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND, R.I. - -By P. G. WODEHOUSE - -William Tell Told Again - -16 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY PHILIP DADD - -By G. E. MITTON - -Children’s Book of London - -12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY JOHN WILLIAMSON - -By G. E. MITTON - -Children’s Book of Stars - -With a Preface by SIR DAVID GILL, K.C.B. - -16 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS (12 IN COLOUR) AND 12 DIAGRAMS IN THE TEXT - -By ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON - -Children’s Book of Edinburgh - -12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY ALLAN STEWART - -By ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON - -Children’s Tales from Scottish Ballads - -12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY ALLAN STEWART - -By the REV. R. C. GILLIE - -The Story of Stories - -32 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS (FRONTISPIECE IN COLOUR) - -By the REV. R. C. GILLIE - -The Kinsfolk and Friends of Jesus - -16 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR AND SEPIA - -By HARRIET BEECHER STOWE - -Uncle Tom’s Cabin - -8 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR AND MANY OTHERS IN THE TEXT - - - -PEEPS AT MANY LANDS - -EACH CONTAINING 12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR. SQUARE CROWN -OCTAVO, CLOTH - -_Price =1s. 6d.= net each_ - -FRANCE HOLLAND INDIA ITALY JAPAN SCOTLAND - -_Kindly apply to the Publishers_, ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, _Soho Square, -London, W., for a detailed Prospectus of any volume in this list. The -books themselves may be obtained through any Bookseller at home or -abroad._ - - PUBLISHED BY A. AND C. BLACK · SOHO SQUARE · LONDON · W. - -FOOTNOTES: - - [1] The poet adds a footnote of facts. “The ship, when first she - filled, fell over so as to dip the flag at her masthead into the sea. - Then rolling back, she fell over to the other side till her yard-arms - touched the water. She then righted, and sunk nearly upright. While - she was sinking, nearly every soul on board came on deck; and I was - told by Admiral Sotheby, then a lieutenant on board the next ship, - that as she went down, this mass of people gave a cry so lamentable, - that it was still ringing in his ears. It was supposed that at the - time of the accident, above a thousand persons, men and women, were on - board; not four hundred were saved. The eddy made by the sinking ship - was so great that a large victualling barge which lay alongside was - drawn in, and lost with her.” - - [2] The _Errata_ volume of the D.N.B. does penance for a curious slip - in its account of this half-forgotten worthy, where the Shepherd’s - Bush Public Library is stated to be a joint-memorial to him and to - Charles Keene. I was so struck by this odd conjunction of patron - saints, that I made a pilgrimage of veridification to their reputed - shrine, and found it was _Leigh Hunt’s_ memory that has been not so - unequally yoked together with the _Punch_ artist’s. - - [3] There is a model of this broken corner of the shore on the ground - floor of the Geological Museum in Jermyn Street, but hardly on a large - enough scale to display its beauty. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Isle of Wight, by A. R. 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R. Hope Moncrieff. -</title> -<style type="text/css"> - p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} - -.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} - -.enlargeimage {margin: 0 0 0 0; text-align: center; border: none;} - @media print, handheld -{.enlargeimage - {display: none;} - } - -.nind {text-indent:0%;} - -.nonvis {display:inline;} - @media print, handheld - {.nonvis - {display: none;} - } - -.r {text-align:right;margin-right: 5%;} - -.rt {text-align:right;} - -small {font-size: 70%;} - -big {font-size: 130%;} - - h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both;} - - h2 {margin-top:4%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; - font-size:120%;} - - hr {width:90%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} - - hr.full {width: 50%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;border:4px double gray;} - - table {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;} - - body{margin-left:4%;margin-right:6%;background:#ffffff;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} - -a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - - link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - -a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} - -a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} - -.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:100%;} - - img {border:4px #5269AD groove;} - @media print, handheld - {img - {border:2px #5269AD groove;} - } - -.imgnb {border:none;} - -.blockquot {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;font-size:90%;} - -.bbox {border:solid 2px black;margin:auto auto;max-width:20em; -padding:.25em;} - - sup {font-size:75%;vertical-align:top;} - -.caption {font-weight:bold;font-size:90%;} - -.figcenter {margin-top:3%;margin-bottom:3%;clear:both; -margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - @media print, handheld - {.figcenter - {page-break-before: avoid;page-break-after: avoid;} - } - -.footnotes {border:dotted 3px gray;margin-top:5%;clear:both;} - -.footnote {width:95%;margin:auto 3% 1% auto;font-size:0.9em;position:relative;} - -.label {position:relative;left:-.5em;top:0;text-align:left;font-size:.8em;} - -.fnanchor {vertical-align:30%;font-size:.8em;} - -div.poetry {text-align:center;} -div.poem {font-size:90%;margin:auto auto;text-indent:0%; -display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: .45em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2.15em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -.pagenum {font-style:normal;position:absolute; -left:95%;font-size:55%;text-align:right;color:gray; -background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0em;} -@media print, handheld -{.pagenum - {display: none;} - } -</style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Isle of Wight, by A. R. Hope Moncrieff - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Isle of Wight - -Author: A. R. Hope Moncrieff - -Illustrator: Alfred Heaton Cooper - -Release Date: May 13, 2016 [EBook #52058] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ISLE OF WIGHT *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="347" height="500" - class="imgnb" alt="[Image of the cover -unavailable.]" /></a> -</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border: 2px black solid;margin:auto auto;max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td> - -<p class="c"><a href="#Contents"><span class="smcap">Contents</span>.</a><br /> -<a href="#INDEX"><span class="smcap">Index</span></a></p> -<p class="c"><a href="#LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"><span class="smcap">List of Illustrations</span></a><br /> <span class="nonvis">(In certain versions of this etext [in certain browsers] -clicking directly on the image, -will bring up a larger version.)</span></p> -<p class="c">(etext transcriber's note)</p></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><a name="front" id="front"></a></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_1" id="ILL_1"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i001_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i001_sml.jpg" width="290" height="404" alt="Image unavailable: THE NEEDLES" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE NEEDLES</span> -</div> - - -<h1>ISLE OF WIGHT</h1> - -<p class="cb">PAINTED BY<br /> -A. HEATON COOPER<br /><br /> -DESCRIBED BY<br /> -A. R. HOPE MONCRIEFF<br /><br /> -<img src="images/i003.png" width="55" height="56" - class="imgnb" alt="[Image of the colophon -unavailable.]" /> -<br /> -<br /><br /> -LONDON<br /> -ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK<br /> -1908</p> - -<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td><small>CHAPTER </small></td><td> </td> -<td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">I.</td><td valign="top"> <a href="#THE_ISLAND"><span class="smcap">The Island</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">I. </td><td valign="top"> <a href="#RYDE"><span class="smcap">Ryde</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_019">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">III.</td><td valign="top"> <a href="#NEWPORT"><span class="smcap">Newport</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_033">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">IV.</td><td valign="top"> <a href="#THE_EAST_SIDE"><span class="smcap">The East Side</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_054">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">V. </td><td valign="top"> <a href="#THE_UNDERCLIFF"><span class="smcap">The Undercliff</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_077">77</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">VI.</td><td valign="top"> <a href="#THE_BACK_OF_THE_ISLAND"><span class="smcap">The Back of the Island</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_092">92</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">VII.</td><td valign="top"> <a href="#FRESHWATER_AND_THE_NEEDLES"><span class="smcap">Freshwater and the Needles</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">VIII.</td><td valign="top"> <a href="#YARMOUTH"><span class="smcap">Yarmouth</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_119">119</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">IX.</td><td valign="top"> <a href="#COWES"><span class="smcap">Cowes</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_139">139</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt">X.</td><td valign="top"> <a href="#THE_GATES_OF_THE_ISLAND"><span class="smcap">The Gates of the Island</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_154">154</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td><td colspan="2"><a href="#INDEX"><span class="smcap">Index</span></a></td></tr> -</table> - -<h2><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>List of Illustrations</h2> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_1">1.</a></td><td valign="top">The Needles</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td> </td><td><small>FACING PAGE</small></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_2">2.</a></td><td valign="top">Ryde—Moonrise</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_020">20</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_3">3.</a></td><td valign="top">Newchurch—the Mother Church of Ryde</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_024">24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_4">4.</a></td><td valign="top">Newport</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_034">34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_5">5.</a></td><td valign="top">Carisbrooke Castle</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_040">40</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_6">6.</a></td><td valign="top">Godshill</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_050">50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_7">7.</a></td><td valign="top">Water Meadows of the Yar near Alverstone</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_058">58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_8">8.</a></td><td valign="top">Sandown Bay</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_060">60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_9">9.</a></td><td valign="top">Shanklin Village—Moonlight after rain</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_10">10.</a></td><td valign="top">Shanklin Chine</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_074">74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_11">11.</a></td><td valign="top">Bonchurch Old Church near Ventnor</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_12">12.</a></td><td valign="top">The Landslip near Ventnor</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_086">86</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_13">13.</a></td><td valign="top">The Undercliff near Ventnor</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_090">90</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_14">14.</a></td><td valign="top">Blackgang Chine</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_096">96</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_15">15.</a></td><td valign="top">Shorwell</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_100">100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_16">16.</a></td><td valign="top">Farringford House</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_106">106</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_17">17.</a></td><td valign="top">Freshwater Bay</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_112">112</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_18">18.</a></td><td valign="top">Totland Bay</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_118">118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_19">19.</a></td><td valign="top">Yarmouth</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_20">20.</a></td><td valign="top">Shalfleet</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_124">124</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_21">21.</a></td><td valign="top">Calbourne</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_138">138</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_22">22.</a></td><td valign="top">Yachting at Cowes</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_144">144</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_23">23.</a></td><td valign="top">Osborne House</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_148">148</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="rt"><a href="#ILL_24">24.</a></td><td valign="top">Whippingham Church</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_152">152</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="c" colspan="3"><a href="#map"><i>Map at end of volume</i></a></td></tr> -</table> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h1>ISLE OF WIGHT</h1> - -<h2><a name="THE_ISLAND" id="THE_ISLAND"></a>THE ISLAND</h2> - - -<p><i>The</i> Island, as its people are in the way of styling it, while not -going so far as to deny existence to the adjacent islands of Great -Britain and Ireland—the Wight, as it is sometimes called by old -writers—has for the first fact in its history that it was not always an -island. It once made a promontory of Dorset, cut off from the mainland -by a channel, whose rush of encountering tides seems still wearing away -the shores so as to broaden a passage of half a dozen miles at the most, -narrowed to about a mile between the long spit of Hurst and the -north-western corner of the Island. It may be that what is now a strait -has been the estuary of a great river, flooding itself into the sea, -which, like Hengist and Horsa, is apt to prove an invading ally -difficult to get rid of. <i>Wight</i> is taken to represent an old British -name for the channel, that, by monkish Latinists, came to be christened -<i>pelagus solvens</i>; but the Solent may have had rather some etymological -kinship with the Solway.</p> - -<p>The Channel Island, as thus its full style imports,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span> has a natural -history of singular interest to geologists, who find here a wide range -of fossiliferous strata, from the Upper Eocene to the Wealden clay, so -exposed that one scientific authority admiringly declares how it “might -have been cut out by nature for a geological model illustrative of the -principles of stratification.” Perhaps the general reader may thank a -writer for not enlarging on this head; but a few words must be said -about the geological structure that shapes this Island’s scenery, -forming, as it were, a sort of abridged and compressed edition of no -small part of England. It divides itself into three zones, which may be -traced in the same order upon the Isle of Purbeck in Dorset. Through the -centre runs a backbone of chalk Downs, a few hundred feet high and an -hour’s walk across at the broadest, narrowing towards either end to -crumble into the sea at the white cliffs of Culver and of the Needles. -To the south of this come beds of sand and marl, through which the chalk -again bulges out in isolated masses on the south coast to top the -highest crests of the Island, resting on such an unstable foundation -that extensive landslips here have thrown the architecture of nature -into picturesque ruin. The north side in general is tamer, a plain of -clays dotted by gravel, better wooded than the rest, though much of its -old timber has gone into the wooden walls of England, once kept in -repair at Portsmouth.</p> - -<p>Across these zones of length, the Island is cut into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span> two almost equal -parts by its chief river, the Medina, cleaving the central Downs near -Newport; and through gaps at either end flow two smaller rivers bearing -the same name of Yar, which seems to call Celtic cousinship with the -Garonne of France. For the Medina, as for the Medway, some such -derivation as the <i>Mid</i> stream has been naturally suggested; but with -the fear of Dr Bradley upon me, I would pass lightly over the quaking -bog of place nomenclature. These three rivers have the peculiarity of -flowing almost right across the Island, a course so short that they may -well take their time about it. The other streams are of little -importance, except in the way of scenery. On the north side they form -shallow branching creeks which get from as much as they give to the sea, -that at high tide bears brown sails far inland among trees and hedges. -On the south, wearing their way down through the elevated shore line, -they carve out those abrupt chasms known as Chines, celebrated among the -beauty spots of this coast. The richest valley seems to be that of the -larger Yar, which turns into the sea at the north-east corner. The parts -most rich in natural charms are the south-eastern corner, with its -overgrown landslips, and the fissured chalk cliffs of the western -promontory beyond Freshwater.</p> - -<p>All that variety of soil and surface is packed together into a roughly -rhomboidal shape, 23 miles long by 13 or 14 miles at the broadest, about -the size of Greater London, or say 1/36000 part of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span> habitable globe. -Within its circumference of 60 miles or so, this space of some 96,000 -square acres holds a population of 82,000, beside innumerable transient -visitors. A pundit of figures has taken the trouble to calculate that -all the population of the world could find standing room in the Island -on the foot of four to the square yard, if the human race agreed on -spending a Bank Holiday here; but then little room might be left for -donkey-rides or switch-back railways. While we are on the head of -statistics, it may be mentioned that several scores of guide-books to -the Isle of Wight have been published, from Sir Henry Englefield’s noble -folio to the small brochures issued by hotels, these works containing on -an average 206,732 words, mostly superfluous in many cases; that 810,427 -picture post-cards or thereabouts pass annually through the post-offices -of the island; that, in ordinary seasons, it sits to 1723 cameras; that -the hotel-bills annually paid in it would, if tacked together, reach -from St Petersburg to Yokohama, or if pasted over one another, make a -pile as high as the new War Office; and that 11.059 per cent. of the -newly married couples of Brixton, Balham, Upper Tooting, etc., are in -each year estimated to spend at least part of their honeymoon here, who -come back to confirm a prevailing belief that in no other part of the -British Isles does the moon shine so sweetly; while, indeed, a not quite -clearly ascertained proportion of them live to assert that the scenery -of the Island and the happiness of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span> the marriage state have alike been -more or less overrated. I give these figures for what they are worth, -along with the unquestioned fact that the Isle of Wight belongs, in a -manner, to the county of Hants, but has a County Council of its own, and -in general maintains a very insular attitude of independence, modelled -on the proud bearing of Great Britain towards mere continental -countries.</p> - -<p>Facts and figures somewhat fail one who comes to lecture on the original -population of this Island. The opinion fondly held in a certain section -of “smart” society, that the lawn of the Squadron at Cowes represents -the Garden of Eden, seems to rest upon no critical authority; indeed -Adam and Eve, as owners of no yacht, would not be qualified for -admission to this select enclosure. With some confidence we may state -that the Island was first peopled by aborigines enjoying no protection -against kidnappers and conquerors, who themselves found it difficult in -the long run to blackball undesirable aliens, as Australia and New -Zealand try to do under the protection of fleets steaming forth from the -Solent. There are well-marked indications of invasion by a Belgic tribe -from the mainland, to make this a “free” state, as early prelude to King -Leopold’s civilisation of the Congo. But we may pass lightly over the -Celtic period, with place-names and pit-dwellings as its records, to -come into clearer historic light with Vespasian’s conquest in <small>A.D.</small> 43.</p> - -<p>For more than three centuries, with apparently<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span> one episode of revolt, -the Romans held Vectis, as they called it; and it has been maintained, -though this goes not unquestioned, that here was their <i>Ictis</i> port, at -which they shipped the tin drawn from the mines of Cornwall. If so, the -island described by Diodorus Siculus was then an island only at high -water. The clearest marks left by Rome are the remains of villas -unearthed at different points, at least one of which indicates a tenant -of luxurious habits and tastes. We can understand how Italian exiles -might prefer this station to one in the bleak wilds of Derbyshire or -Northumberland, as an Anglo-Indian official of to-day thinks himself -lucky to have his compound at Poona or Bangalore, if not at Mahableshwar -or Simla. The Brading villa, indeed, like those of Bignor in Sussex and -Brough in Norfolk, seems rather to have been the settled home of a rich -nobleman, Roman or Romanised British, who had perhaps strong opinions as -to the way in which Rome neglected the wishes and interests of her -colonies. These remains were unearthed only in living memory, so that -writers of a century ago ignore such traces of Roman occupation.</p> - -<p>Next came northern pirates, who would be not so much interested in the -mild climate of the Island, as in the creeks and landing-places of its -shores. They, too, have left relics of their occupation, chiefly in the -graves furnished with utensils and ornaments of heathen life. But when -Jutes and Saxons had destroyed the Roman civilisation, they fell under<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span> -another influence spread from the Mediterranean. Bishop Wilfred of -Selsey has the credit of planting, or replanting, Christianity in the -Island. It could hardly have taken deep root, when the Danes came to -ravage the monastic settlements. For a time the Cross and the Raven must -have struggled for mastery here like the encountering tides of Solent, -till that new wave of invaders ebbed back or was absorbed into the old -one; then again the Island became overflowed by a fresh storm of -conquest. If we consider from how many races, in three continents, the -Roman soldiery were drawn, and how the northmen must have mixed their -blood with that of a miscellany of captives, it is clear that, when -overrun by a fresh cross-breed between Gauls and Vikings, the population -of our islands, large and small, could in many parts have been no very -pure stock, such as is fondly imagined by the pride of modern -Pan-Celticism and Anglo-Saxondom.</p> - -<p>In Norman England, the Wight soon emerges into note. King William -visited it to seize his ambitious brother Odo at Carisbrooke. The -fortress there was enlarged by William Fitz-Osborne, to whom the Island -had been granted, and who salved his conscience for any high-handed acts -of conquest by giving six churches to the Norman Abbey of Lira, the -beginning of a close connection with that continental foundation. His -son lost this lordship through treason; then for two centuries it was in -the hands of the Redvers, Earls of Devon,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span> who grew to be -quasi-independent princes. The last of their line was Isabella de -Fortibus, holding her head high as Lady of the Island till on her -deathbed, her children being dead, she sold her rights to Edward I. for -6000 marks.</p> - -<p>Henceforth this dependency was governed for the crown through -lieutenants at first known as Wardens, an office held by great names -like Edward III. in his childhood, the Earl of Salisbury, the Duke of -York, the Duke of Gloucester, Anthony Woodvile, Earl of Rivers; and in -such hands more than once showing a tendency to become hereditary. Their -post was no sinecure, for at this period the Island made a striking -point for French raids that have left their mark on its towns. Not that -the raiding was all on one side. The islanders long remembered ruefully -how Sir Edward Woodvile led the flower of their manhood into France, -when of more than four hundred fighters only one boy escaped to tell the -tale of their destruction, that seems to have been wrought by French -artillery, turning the tables on the English long-bow.</p> - -<p>The weak Henry VI. had crowned young Henry Beauchamp, Duke of Warwick, -as “King of the Isle of Wight.” Politic Henry VII., for his part, saw -well to restrain the power and dignity of those Island deputies, now -styled Captains. In the Tudor time, three Captains came to note, Sir -Richard Worsley as carrying out the reformation policy of Henry VIII., -Sir Edward Horsey, as a doughty soldier<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span> of fortune, who is said to have -begun his career with a plot to betray the Island to the French, but on -coming into this office kept a sharp eye both on foreign enemies and on -his private interests, doing a bit of piracy for his own hand, if all -stories be true; then Sir George Carey, who had the anxious task of -defence against the Spanish Armada. When that peril went to pieces, the -Island at last began to enjoy a period of secure prosperity, testified -to by the fact that most of its old houses, mansion or cottage, appear -to date from Elizabeth or James. Yet so late as 1627, soon after the -captaincy of Lord Southampton, Shakespeare’s patron, it got a scare from -a Dutch fleet, taken for Spaniards.</p> - -<p>New confusion came with the Civil War, in which the Wight people were -mostly on the parliament’s side, while the leading gentry stood for the -king. The best-known episode of the Island’s history is Charles I.’s -imprisonment at Carisbrooke, which may be passed over here to be dealt -with more fully <i>in loco.</i> The Isle of Wight might well back up the -parliament; as then and till the Reform Bill it sent six members, an -over-representation now reduced to one, and formerly, indeed, apt to be -qualified by official interference with freedom of election.</p> - -<p>In Charles II.’s “golden age of the coward, the bigot and the slave,” -the governorship of the Island was given to Lord Colepeper, who made -himself obnoxious here, and got a wider field of domination<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span> in -Virginia, where also he seems to have been unbeloved. His huge colonial -grants passed by marriage of his daughter to Lord Fairfax, whose eldest -son settled on his American property, said to extend over five million -acres, giving up the English estates to his younger brother. This was -clearly hint for Thackeray’s story of the Virginian Warringtons. Only -the other day the heir of this family, America’s sole peer, became -naturalised afresh in England, after his title had been laid up in -lavender, or tobacco, for several generations. Another personage in <i>The -Virginians</i>, General Webb, held the governorship of the Island for a few -years. But now the Captains, or Governors as they came to be styled, had -little to do which could not be done by deputy, while the post was worth -holding by men of high rank, as by the Dukes of Bolton and Montague -under George II., when its salary was £1500 a year.</p> - -<p>Under them the Island was happy enough to have little history, though it -had again to be on its guard when Dutch admirals talked of sweeping the -English ships from the Channel. It saw William’s fleet sail by on the -way to Torbay; and two years later it seemed about to have from its -southern cliffs the spectacle of a hundred French sail engaging the -English and Dutch squadrons; but the scene of that encounter was shifted -to Beachy Head, where it ended in a manner not much dwelt upon in our -naval annals. Then the long struggle with Napoleon once more turned this -outpost of England<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span> into a camp. In the peaceful days that followed, the -governorship became a mere ceremonial function. The title, held by -Prince Henry of Battenberg, was passed on to his widow, the youngest -daughter of Queen Victoria, whose death at Osborne makes the last date -in this Island chronicle.</p> - -<p>An insulated people naturally formed a race apart, speaking a marked -dialect, and cherishing a strong local feeling. Their situation, and the -once pressing need to stand on defence by land and sea, bred a sturdy -race, whose vigour in old days was apt to run to such enterprising ways -of life as piracy, wrecking, and smuggling; but all that may be -forgotten like scandal about Queen Elizabeth. One evil of the islanders -keeping so much to themselves has been a stagnation of population, that -through intermarriage made for degeneracy. Sir John Oglander, the Stuart -worthy whose jottings on his contemporaries prove so amusing, says that -the Island once bore the reproach of not producing a good horse, a wise -man, or a pretty woman; but he hastens to add <i>Tempora mutant</i>; and on -the last head, the stranger can judge the calumny for himself. Hassell, -an eighteenth century tourist, remarks for his part on the beauty and -even elegance of the farmers’ daughters at Newport market, while of the -fathers he hints at grog-blossoms as a too common feature. The lately -published memoirs of Captain Elers treat the former point as matter of -notoriety. A certain boisterous pertness noted in the male<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span> youth of the -Island has been referred by sociologists to an absence of birch in its -flora. All ages have been noted for a clannishness that was once -disposed to look askance on such “overners” or “overers” as found their -way into the Wight, whose own stock we see to have sprung from -immigrants of different breeds. But here, as elsewhere, schools, -newspapers, and facilities of travel are fast rubbing down the -prejudices of parish patriotism.</p> - -<p>The upper class, indeed, is now largely made up of well-to-do strangers -drawn to the Island by its various amenities; while the sons of the soil -have laid aside suspicious dislike of the outsiders whom they know as -profitable guests. From pictorial cards, valentines, and such vulgar -documents, they appear to bear the nickname of Isle of Wight “Calves,” -which may be taken as a sub-species of the “Hampshire Hogs,” who suffer -such neighbourly satire as is shown in by-words like “Norfolk -Dumplings,” “Lincolnshire Yellow-bellies,” or “Wiltshire Moonrakers.” -Some strangers, however, at the height of the season, have been more -inclined to find for the natives a zoological similitude in the order of -<i>Raptores</i>. “I do not mean,” as a precise old gentleman once explained -to me of his landlady, “that she has feathers and claws like a bird; but -I assert that, in character and in disposition, she resembles a -vulture.” It is often, indeed, made evident to the meanest capacity that -the Island hosts belong to a long-billed family; but they<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span> perhaps as -often as not may be classed as overners, or referred to the hydra-like -form of polyzoic organism popularly known as a Company, Limited.</p> - -<p>The soil is well cultivated, and many of the farms look thriving, though -the rank hedges and the flowers that colour some of the pastures, spread -a more pleasing view for an idle stranger than for a practical -cultivator. The Downs support flocks as well as golf clubs; the breed of -Island sheep was highly esteemed of old, where the climate makes for -early lambing. When some parts were overrun with “conies,” Sir E. Horsey -had the name of bringing in hares, which he paid for at the rate of a -lamb a-piece; but foxes and badgers have not crossed the Solent.</p> - -<p>The coast folk carry on amphibious business, from oyster beds to -ship-chandling. Ship-building at Cowes, and cement-making on the Medina, -are the only large industries I know of. The chief trade seems to be in -tourists, who are taxed, tolled, and touted for at every turn by the -purveyors of entertainment for man and beast, the managers of -excursions, and the enclosers of natural curiosities. Visitors come from -far and near, the Island making a holiday resort for the townsfolk of -Portsmouth and Southampton, while among foreign tourists, it seems to -have a special attraction for Germans; and some of the American -travellers who “do” Europe in three weeks are known to spend as much as -several hours in scampering across to Ventnor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span></p> - -<p>A good many visitors, however, come for a considerable time, delicate or -luxurious folk, lucky enough to be able to take advantage of a milder -climate in our uncertain winter or still more treacherous spring. One -must not indeed expect too much of any British climate. About Torquay, -the chief rival of Ventnor as a sheltered resort, a well-known novelist, -after living there through many winters, says bluntly that it is a -little less cold than the rest of England. Such places are apt to bid -for patronage by statistics of sunshine, temperature, and so forth, -which may prove bamboozling, not to say deceptive, when it is difficult -to tabulate the occurrence of trying extremes under the changes and -chances of our fickle sky. The best test of climate is its general -effect on vegetation; and it may be said with truth that the Isle of -Wight, on the whole, is two or three weeks ahead of inland districts of -our country. But it cannot claim to be such a halcyon spot as the -dream-world of another poet, who knew it well in all weathers.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The island-valley of Avilion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any wind blows loudly, but it lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>There is snow here, sometimes, and rain pretty often; while wind makes -for the islanders as touchy a point as the title “Lady of Snows” for -Canada; but in fact, being an island, this nook must take the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span> -consequences of such a situation, swept by breezes from all quarters, -especially from the south-west. The north and east sides of course are -more exposed to bracing winds, and their resorts, from Cowes to Sandown, -come into favour rather in the summer season, that fills the sails of -yachts and pleasure-boats, as well as greases the wheels of coaches -cruising upon land excursions. The “Back of the Island” is more stormed -upon by Atlantic gales, while one half of it, the famous Undercliff, is -so snugly shut in to the north, as to make a winter garden of myrtles, -fuchsias, arbutus, and still rarer evergreenery. Here, perhaps, it was -that a Miss Malaprop complained of this Island as not “embracing” -enough, and got advice to try then the Isle of Man.</p> - -<p>As to the best time for a visit, that depends partly on which aspect of -the Island is to be sought, not to say on circumstances and opportunity; -but to my mind it wears its fairest face in its dullest season, when its -hotel-keepers see cause to take their own holiday. Then, in early -summer, flocks of sheep-like tourists miss seeing at their freshest and -richest the clumps of umbrageous foliage, the hedgerows and copses sweet -with gay blossoms, the turfy slopes spangled with wild flowers, the -glowing meadows, the blooming cottage plots, the “weeds of glorious -feature,” and in short, all the charms that make this one of “the -gardens of England,” in which, exclaims Oliver Wendell Holmes, -“everything grows with such a lavish extravagance of greenery that it -seems<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span> as if it must bankrupt the soil before autumn.” It is better -visited in spring, which comes so early up this way, that Easter as well -as Whitsuntide holiday-makers may catch the first flush of one of those -nooks described by Dr Bromfield in his <i>Flora Vectensis</i>—“a blooming -wilderness of primroses, wood-anemones, violets, and a hundred other -lovely and fragrant things, overtopped by the taller and purple-stained -wood-spurge, early purple orchis, and the pointed hoods of the -spotted-leaved wake-robin; the daisy-besprinkled track leading us -upward, skirted by mossy fern-clad banks on one hand, and by shelving -thickets on the other, profusely overshadowed by ivy-arched oak and ash, -the graceful birch, and varnished holly.” Then still sooner may be -looked for the spangling of the sheltered Undercliff, where, as Miss -Sewell describes: “The ground is tossed about in every direction, and -huge rocks lie scattered upon it. But thorns and chestnuts and ash-trees -have sprung up amongst them upon the greensward; ivy has climbed up the -ledges of the jagged cliffs; primroses cluster upon the banks; cowslips -glitter on the turf; and masses of hyacinths may be seen in glades, half -hidden by the foliage of the thick trees, through which the jutting -masses of grey rock peep out upon the open sea, sparkling with silver -and blue some hundreds of feet beneath them.”</p> - -<p>Old books frequently dwell on what was once a drawback, the difficulty -of getting to the Island—the getting away from which is more apparent -to one<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span> class of his present Majesty’s subjects, housed here at -Parkhurst, much against their will. Piers and steamboats have now made -it as accessible as the Isle of Thanet, and more often visited than the -Isle of Dogs. There are half-a-dozen routes from London, through the -three opposite ports of Portsmouth, Southampton, and Lymington, not to -speak of Southsea and Stokes Bay. The Portsmouth route comes into -closest touch with the Island’s own railways, made up of several local -enterprises, amalgamated into the two systems styled the Isle of Wight -Railway, and the Isle of Wight Central Railway. Of these lines the Rev. -Mr Chadband would be bound to say that they are perhaps the worst, the -dearest, and the most provoking in the country; to which their -shareholders could reply only by a groan worthy of Mr Stiggins, while a -want of mutual connection and convenience may be referred to relations -like those of Messrs Jorkins and Spenlow. From their exactions it is the -hasty stranger that suffers most, the inhabitants being better versed in -devices of season-tickets, parliamentary fares, and other mitigations of -a tariff, by which, for example, it costs sixpence to go from one end of -Ryde Pier to the other, and half-a-crown or so for the dozen miles’ trip -across the Island.</p> - -<p>But if the visitor grudge such charges, he will find plenty of -competition in the excursion coaches that gape for him as soon as he -gets off Ryde Pier, or the motor ’buses that hence ply in several -directions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span> For his own wheel there are excellent roads, as well as -others; and to see the best of the Island, he does well if he can avail -himself of that oldest and cheapest conveyance known to merry hearts as -“Shanks’ mare.” It is on this footing, chiefly, that I have wandered -about the Isle of Wight, through which I am now to conduct the gentle -reader on a rambling and gossiping tour in his own arm-chair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="RYDE" id="RYDE"></a>RYDE</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">We</span> need not cast about for the spot at which to make our landing on the -shores of Wight. Lying opposite Portsmouth, with a crossing of -half-an-hour or so, Ryde is the chief gateway of the Island and knot of -its railways to every part, Cowes being more in touch with Southampton, -and Yarmouth at the west end coming closest to the mainland port of -Lymington. With its suburbs and dependencies, Ryde is considerably the -largest place, having outgrown Newport, the titular capital, by a -population largely made up of retired veterans, families of officers on -service, and other select society such as one finds thickly settled at -Southsea, across the Solent. So much one can guess from the look of the -brick villas that spread over the swelling heights of Ryde’s background, -and of the smart shops in and about its Union Street, while an unusual -proportion of hotels and refreshment rooms hint at influx of transient -visitors both from the classes and the masses.</p> - -<p>A century ago, this could be described in a local guide-book as a “place -of some consequence.” Only<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span> since then has Ryde become the goodly town -we now see, yet it is no mushroom resort, but old enough to have been -burned by French assailants under Richard II. The sheltered anchorage -behind the Isle of Wight was once too well known to wind-bound -travellers, who might have to fret here for weeks or months, as Leigh -Hunt, on his voyage to Italy, spent half a year at Plymouth. So -Fielding, sailing to die at Lisbon, was detained at Ryde, which seems -then to have been little more than a hamlet. No tea could be got there; -it had a butcher, but he was not “killing”; and though the inn at which -the travellers put up could supply a long bill, its other accommodations -were such that they preferred to take their dinner in the barn. The -landing of a helpless invalid proved a trying adventure where, “between -the sea and the shore, there was at low water an impassable gulf, if I -may so call it, of deep mud, which could neither be traversed by walking -nor swimming, so that for near one half of the twenty-four hours, Ryde -was inaccessible by friend or foe.” In spite of such disadvantages, the -dying novelist has nothing but good to say of it, once he had got over -its moat of mud.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>This pleasant village is situated on a gentle ascent from the -water, whence it affords that charming prospect I have above -described. Its soil is a gravel, which, assisted with its -declivity, preserves it always so dry, that immediately after the -most violent rain, a fine lady may walk without wetting her silken -shoes. The fertility of the place is apparent from its -extraordinary verdure, and it is so shaded with large and -flourishing elms, that its narrow lanes are a</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_2" id="ILL_2"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i031_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i031_sml.jpg" width="420" height="316" alt="Image unavailable: RYDE—MOONRISE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">RYDE—MOONRISE</span> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">natural grove or walk, which in the regularity of its plantation -vies with the power of art, and in its wanton exuberancy greatly -exceeds it. In a field, in the ascent of this hill, about a quarter -of a mile from the sea, stands a neat little chapel. It is very -small, but adequate to the number of inhabitants: for the parish -doth not seem to contain above thirty houses.</p></div> - -<p>Marryat also speaks of the muddy shore, over which voyagers had often to -be carried ashore pickaback or in a horse and cart, as was the way of -landing at Buenos Ayres till not so long ago. But he saw the -construction of its pier, one of the earliest pleasure piers in England, -that made a great difference to Ryde; and for a time it shot up into -more note and fashion as a seaside resort than it enjoys now among so -many rivals. A hint of that palmy time is given by some dignified old -mansions about the town, which, during the last half century or so, has -looked for quantity as much as quality in its visitors.</p> - -<p>At the present day, the bed of mud has been overlaid by a coat of sand, -taken advantage of for bathing facilities still too dependent on the -tide, ebbing out beyond an unfinished pier that serves as a swimming -bath at certain hours. By means of groynes, the sand is now being coaxed -to gather less thinly on the shore, where a battery of bathing machines -stands in position. Else Ryde is no very good bathing place; nor, -exposed to cold winds, does it invite invalids like the other side of -the Island. Its interests have been rather in yachting and boating; and -its frequenters those who relish a breezy marine<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span> flavour in life. -August, gay with regattas, is the great time for this Solent shore. The -broad pier, 2000 feet long, sets the tide at defiance, carrying out both -a railway and a tramway to meet the steamers that land holiday crowds as -well as passengers for all parts of the Island. For the amusement of -youthful visitors a canoeing lake has been made in the gardens, behind -the sea-wall running eastwards, with its fine view of Spithead and the -chequered forts islanded in the Solent.</p> - -<p>It was off this Esplanade that in 1782 went down the <i>Royal George</i>, one -of our finest men-of-war, upset by a land breeze when heeled over safely -enough, as was supposed, in calm weather. The story goes that a -pig-headed officer of the watch would not attend to the carpenter’s -report that she was filling; then naval discipline cost the loss of -seven hundred lives. Great numbers of bodies came ashore at Ryde, to be -buried under what is now a trim promenade. Others found a resting-place -in Portsea Churchyard, where a monument to their memory stands under the -noble tower of the new Church, so well seen from the railway as it -enters Portsmouth. The catastrophe is best remembered by Cowper’s -epitaph, “Toll for the Brave!” and by the narrative in Marryat’s <i>Poor -Jack</i>. Less well known are Sir Henry Englefield’s lines, written when -the graves could still be seen near the shore.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Thou! who dost tread this smooth and verdant mead,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Viewing delighted the fair hills that rise<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i1">On either hand, a sylvan theatre;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">While in the front with snowy pinions closed,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And thunders silent, Britain’s guardian fleet<br /></span> -<span class="i1">On the deep bosom of the azure sea<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Reposes aweful—pass not heedless by<br /></span> -<span class="i1">These mould’ring heaps, which the blue spiry grass<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Scarce guards from mingling with the common earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Mark! in how many a melancholy rank.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The graves are marshall’d—Dost thou know the fate<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Disastrous, of their tenants? Hushed the winds,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And smooth the billows, when an unseen hand<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Smote the great ship, and rift her massy beams:<br /></span> -<span class="i1">She reeled and sunk.—Over her swarming decks<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The flashing wave in horrid whirlpool rushed;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">While from a thousand throats, one wailing shriek<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Burst—and was heard no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Then day by day,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The ebbing tide left frequent on the sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The livid corpse; and his o’erloaded net<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The shuddering fisher loathed to drag ashore.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And here, by friends unknown, unmarked, unwept,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">They rest.”<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Another event in Ryde’s history was the landing here of the Empress of -the French after Sedan. Her escape from Paris had been conducted by Dr -Evans, the American dentist; then from Deauville, Sir John<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span> Burgoyne -brought her across in his yacht through such stormy weather, that it had -almost been forced to put back into some French port. At sunrise, a Ryde -hotel close to the pier turned away two travel-worn ladies accompanied -by a gentleman, who found refuge in the York Hotel. So the unfortunate -Empress, with her small suite, could at last rest in peace. The first -thing she did, Dr Evans tells us, was to seek comfort in a Bible that, -by chance as she supposed, lay in the small top room given to this -<i>incognita</i>. Charles X. on his final exile, had also made for the Isle -of Wight, arriving off Cowes, but he does not seem to have landed there.</p> - -<p>On the approach by sea, Ryde presents an attractive aspect, displayed as -it is upon a hillside, with its steeply sloping streets, its conspicuous -spires, and its fringe of handsome villas embowered in rich woods that -enclose the town on either side. The most prominent landmark is the -far-seen steeple of the parish Church in the upper part of the town, -built after designs of Sir G. G. Scott, and ornamented with a fine show -of modern art. Beside this stands the Town Hall, beyond which another -church combines a Strawberry Hill Gothic effect, with a light colouring -that at first sight suggests Oriental associations: it might do for a -chapel to the Brighton Pavilion. Ryde has its fair allowance of churches -and chapels of all denominations; but we need not look here for ancient -dignity or picturesqueness, even the parish churches of such modern -resorts as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_3" id="ILL_3"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i039_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i039_sml.jpg" width="415" height="302" alt="Image unavailable: NEWCHURCH—THE MOTHER CHURCH OF RYDE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">NEWCHURCH—THE MOTHER CHURCH OF RYDE</span> -</div> - -<p>Ryde or Ventnor having been originally chapels of ease to some now -obscure metropolis inland. Georgian solidity or Early Victorian stucco -are the highest notes of antiquity in this smart and cheerful town, -which at the last census, taking in its outskirts, counted 18,000 -inhabitants.</p> - -<p>Church architecture, it may be said, is not the strongest point of the -Island; though several of its churches have interesting remnants of -Norman work; and I have heard of one native claiming for his parish -steeple an unrecorded antiquity of more than 1600 years, in proof of -which he showed the figures 1620 still legible on the fabric. One of the -most notable ecclesiastical antiquities, Quarr Abbey, lies a pleasant -couple of miles’ walk westward from Ryde. The way is by the adjoining -parish of Binstead, with its modern Church preserving some fragments of -the old one, originally built by the Abbot of Quarr, “because he would -not have all his tenants and the inhabitants of Binstead come to trouble -the Abbey Church.” A gravelled path and a lovers’ lane through a series -of oak copses, giving peeps of the mainland coast, bring one in view of -Quarr Abbey, whose ivied ruins are now to be restored. The name Quarr or -Quarraria is said to come from the Binstead quarries of Upper Eocene -limestone, that figures largely in Winchester Cathedral. The abbey was -founded in the middle of the twelfth century by Baldwin de Redvers, in -fulfilment of a vow made during his banishment for taking Maud’s part -against<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span> Stephen, after which his head was lifted up again, so that he -became Lord of the Island and Earl of Devon. He was the first to be -buried here, as later were other persons of note, among them the Lady -Cicely, second daughter of Edward IV., who had married a gentleman of -the Island. Among the numerous traditions attached to the abbey, there -is one that connects a wood called Eleanor’s Grove with the queen of -Henry II., said to have been imprisoned here.</p> - -<p>This was the second Cistercian house established in England, which -before long absorbed so much of the Island, that the Abbot of Quarr -became a petty prince. “Happy was that gentleman that could get his son -to attend upon him,” says Oglander: such offices as treasurer, steward, -chief butler, and rent-gatherer of the abbey being sought by the cadets -of the chief families. But after the Dissolution it soon fell into -decay, monuments and all being sold; and in the beginning of the -seventeenth century, Sir John Oglander found that the very site of the -church had already been forgotten by old men, even by one who remembered -the days of its glory. At this time it had been bought for £3000 by Mr -Fleming, descendant of the Dutch mason brought over from the Low Country -by the founder to carry out the work. “Such,” moralises the knight, “is -the inconstancy of Fortune, which, with the aid of her servant Time, -pulleth down great things and setteth up poor things.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span></p> - -<p>Since then, the outlines have been more carefully uncovered, or traced, -including part of a wall with which, by license of Edward III., this -abbey was fortified against the attacks of sea-rovers, and of the French -invaders who often assailed the Island. Among the old monuments recorded -by Oglander was one to a “great Monsieur of France” slain here in -Richard II.’s reign. The structure, of which some interesting fragments -remain, was in part adapted as farm buildings, the refectory turned into -a barn. But Quarr has now been bought by the community of French -Benedictines that some years ago crossed the Channel to Appuldurcombe on -the southern downs of the Island; and it is understood that they propose -to restore the abbey as a congenial home. A swarm of nuns of the same -Order has lately settled at Ryde, after a temporary residence at -Northwood, near Cowes. Carisbrooke houses other foreign <i>religieux</i>, who -have also a school at Ventnor. Thus the whirligig of time brings about -its revenges, heretic England giving sanctuary to the churchmen of -Catholic France.</p> - -<p>From Quarr Abbey, one can stroll on to Fishbourne at the mouth of a -creek called the Wootton River, which, a mile or so up, at Wootton -Bridge is crossed by the road from Ryde to Cowes, passing presently -behind the grounds of Osborne. Wootton is another of the oldest Wight -churches, still preserving some features of the time when it was built -by one of the Lisle family (<i>De l’Ile</i>) who took<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span> their name from this -Island, and gave it to Dame Alice Lisle, the victim of Judge Jeffrey’s -bloody assize. Holding on up the wooded bottom of Wootton River, one -reaches the village of Haven Street, from which an hour’s walk leads -back to the southern outskirts of Ryde, where all but the name of St -John’s Park is now overspread by brick and stone. The way by road gives -a fair notion of the Island scenery on this side; and might be very -pleasantly extended by lanes and field-paths, copses and commons, -seaming and roughening the three mile belt between the sea and the Chalk -Downs to the south.</p> - -<p>But the many rambles that may be taken here-abouts are the business of -guide-books; and the high-roads leading out of Ryde need not be pointed -out to its crews of coach excursionists, and to passengers on the motor -omnibuses that start here for different parts of the Island, some faring -as far as Shanklin and Blackgang Chine. For the present let us leave -roads and railways, to stroll along the shore to Seaview, which, at the -north-eastern corner, makes a sort of chapel of ease to Ryde, as -Paignton to Torquay or Westgate to Margate.</p> - -<p>This gives another very pleasant hour’s walk, to be taken along the -sea-wall that continues Ryde’s Esplanade. On the land side the way is -much shut in by park woods and castellated villas, but it has an open -view over the Solent, across which at night gleam the myriad lights of -Portsmouth and Southsea; daylight shows this strait enlivened by all -kinds of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span> shipping, and often glorified by the spectacle of a British -fleet, as sometimes by international naval encounters in peace and -courtesy. Our modern ships of war may make a more impressive display, -yet no longer such a picturesque one as when a century ago one visitor -could tell how he saw the whole Channel filled by a convoy, several -hundreds strong, so that “the blue waters in the distance were almost -hidden by the snow-white cloud of sails.” The pictorial place of these -sails, indeed, is often taken by the racing yachts, which run all to -sail; and “a sail is one of the most beautiful things which man ever -invented!” So exclaims Mr George A. B. Dewar, whose “Pageant of the Sea” -papers in the <i>Saturday Review</i> give us Turneresque pictures of this -landlocked waterway:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>In autumn the sea and landscapes of the Isle of Wight, towards -evening and in very still weather, seem to belong to some enchanted -country. The hills of the Island, seen from the water, grow utterly -unsubstantial then. They turn dove-coloured, and so soft and light -in their appearance that they might, to a stranger to the place, -pass for clouds on the horizon. The sea, with the mild sun on it, -is emerald; and the band of colour that adjoins it to the north, -given by the wooded shores of Hamble and Southampton Water, is a -splendid purple. At other times, on an autumn evening like this, -but with some imperceptible difference in the atmosphere, the faint -outlines of hills far beyond Portsmouth and its land forts, have -the peculiar appearance of being partly covered with a thin coating -of stained snow. Every shade of blue and green touches these waters -between mainland and island in early autumn as in summer, often -changing with a changing sky from minute to minute.... Not all the -illusions of this sea are kept for the hush of sundown and the -shade of coming night. The sea blooms of the Solent, films and -hazes, at all seasons glorify and mystify every ship they touch, -clumsy coal barge, harbour-dredger, graceful racing yacht.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span></p> - -<p>More than half-way on our path starts up Puckpool or Spring Vale, a row -of seaside lodgings nestling under the protection of a fort that makes a -link in Portsmouth’s fortified <i>enceinte</i>. Here the shallow shore -spreads at low water a wide stretch of sand, so firm that horses as well -as children can disport themselves upon it; and it seems as if the -nearest fort could almost be reached on wheels. The path holds on by a -strip of meadowland; and thus we come to Seaview, that has overlaid the -old name of Nettlestone Point.</p> - -<p>Seaview, indeed, was first Seagrove before it became a flourishing -family bathing-place, with the unusual setting of woods so close down to -the water’s edge that one may lie in a boat and hear the nightingale -almost overhead; but these groves tantalise the landlubber by a crop of -forbidding notices to trespassers. It has a chain pier of its own, and a -regular service of steamboats from Southsea, that run on to Bembridge. -This pier, with the hotel behind, splits the place into two separate -sections, marked by their architecture as belonging to different strata -of pleasure-seeking. The part nearer Ryde is the true old Seaview of -wandering rows, bow-windowed lodging-houses, and modest refreshment -rooms. On the east side of the bay has sprung up a newer, smarter, -redder bit of esplanade, making a pretty contrast to its dark green -background. A private road leads to this end, which, else, at high tide -is cut off, so that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span> butcher or greengrocer may be seen delivering -his wares by boat in quite Venetian manner. There are sands for -children, and rocks for scrambling, and a shallow beach for launching -canoes on these safe waters, where the red sails of the Bembridge Yacht -Club make dots of colour, as do the tents here taking the place of -bathing-machines. Another peculiar feature is the diving-boards anchored -out at sea, since the tide, creeping up to the Esplanade garden gates, -woos paddlers rather than swimmers. Seaview, in short, holds itself -something out of the common in the way of bathing-places, dealing with -strangers rather in the wholesale way of house-letting than the retail -trade of apartments.</p> - -<p>Beyond the broken point, where one seems to catch Nature in her -workshop, kneading clay into firmer forms, a rough walk along the shore -of Priory Bay leads on to St Helen’s, reached inland by the road through -Nettlestone Green. Once clear of houses, we plunge among the rank -greenery of the Island, too much monopolised here by the grounds of the -Priory, which preserves the name of a colony of monks swarmed over from -France to St Helen’s in early Plantagenet days. This was one of the -properties bought by Emmanuel Badd, who, <i>teste</i> Sir John Oglander, -began life as a poor shoemaker’s apprentice at Newport, “but by God’s -blessinge and ye loss of 5 wyfes, he grewe very ritch,” rose to be High -Sheriff of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span> Hants, and was buried under an epitaph in Jacobean taste, -ending</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So good a Bad doth this same grave contain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would all like Bad were that with us remain!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">But at St Helen’s we have rounded the corner of the Island, which we may -now survey from another line of operations.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="NEWPORT" id="NEWPORT"></a>NEWPORT</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Before</span> holding on by road, rail, or boat along the coast, let us take a -course through the centre of the Island, on which we can pay due respect -to its capital. From Ryde, Cowes, and Freshwater run railways that meet -at Newport, where the Medina begins to be navigable, and thence go off -branches to Ventnor and Sandown. This junction, then, makes the -radiating point of the Isle of Wight’s communications; and all its main -roads converge at Newport, which, though not quite so large as Ryde, and -not so well recruited by strangers, is a flourishing place of over -10,000 people.</p> - -<p>One sees at once that this is no <i>ville de plaisance</i>, but the home of -all sorts and conditions of men, taking toll on the country round by -varied industry. Roman origin has been claimed for it on hint of the -straight streets and crossings that give it a more regular aspect than -most country towns, shading off indeed on the skirts into wandering -lanes and rising outgrowths of the “Mount Pleasant” order. A peculiar -feature is the little Quay quarter, where the Lugley stream from -Carisbrooke comes in to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span> the Medina navigable for small vessels -freighted with timber, coals, malt, wheat, and so forth. But the tidal -river below Newport adorns the landscape only at high water, being too -often a broad ribbon of slime creeping between low banks, not beautified -by the big cement works lower down, that get their raw material in mud -as well as chalk. More picturesque are the Chalk Downs, on the other -side embracing the town with their green shoulders and quarried faces.</p> - -<p>The central cross-way is marked by a memorial to Queen Victoria. Close -by, too narrowly shut up in its square, stands St Thomas’s Church, whose -stately tower and high roof pitch makes the boss of Newport from all -points of view. This is little more than half a century old, taking the -place of the ancient shrine dedicated to the memory of St Thomas à -Becket, which was rather unwarrantably pulled down, that “holy blissful -martyr’s” dedication being at the same time usurped by Thomas the -Apostle, a saint more congenial to our age. Some of its old treasures -are preserved in the present structure, notably the Charles I. pulpit, -carved with personifications of Justice and Mercy, the Three Graces, the -Four Cardinal Virtues, and the Seven Liberal Arts, among which a goat -marks the name of the artist, Thomas Caper. Another antiquity is the -monument to Sir Edward Horsey, Captain of the Island, 1565-82, showing -his canopied effigy in armour with an epitaph attributing to him, after -the manner of such, more virtues than he gets credit for in history. -The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_4" id="ILL_4"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i053_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i053_sml.jpg" width="349" height="424" alt="Image unavailable: Image unavailable: NEWPORT" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">NEWPORT</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">most beautiful monument is a modern one by Baron Marochetti, to -commemorate Princess Elizabeth, Charles I.’s deformed and sickly -daughter, buried in the old church 1650; but her tomb had been forgotten -till the accidental discovery of the coffin in 1793. She is represented -as found dead by her attendants, according to tradition, with her face -resting on the pages of an open Bible, the gift of her father; and a -happy touch of symbolism shows the iron bars of her life broken by -death. Along with this monument, Queen Victoria contributed two memorial -windows and a medallion of the Prince Consort by the same sculptor.</p> - -<p>There is no room for a churchyard in St Thomas’s Square; but across -South Street will be found the old cemetery, close packed with graves. -One, seen from the path leading along it, hints at a story too common a -century ago, an ugly obelisk to the memory of Valentine Gray, “the -little sweep,” erected by public subscription “in testimony of the -general feeling for suffering innocence.” Here is buried John Hamilton -Reynolds, Keats’ friend, and Hood’s brother-in-law, who himself in youth -bid fair to earn poetic fame. He is understood to be part author of -Hood’s <i>Odes to Great People</i>; and he was to have collaborated with -Keats in a volume of Italian tales, not to speak of work of his own like -“a runaway ring at Wordsworth’s Peter Bell”; but after penning stanzas -not unsuccessfully, he had the singular fate of taking to engrossing as -a solicitor. He seems to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span> have grown soured or sottish in his later -life, which he ended obscurely as an official of the Newport County -Court.</p> - -<p>Of the few old buildings left in Newport, the most remarkable is the -Jacobean Grammar School at the corner of Lugley Street and the road -going down to cross Towngate bridge for Parkhurst and West Cowes. The -old portion, for a later addition has been made, is interesting not only -in itself, but as understood to have housed Charles I. during his last -abortive negotiations with the Parliament, at the end of which the king -was hurried away to his doom. Here, at that day, it was usual to receive -captains and other great men coming into the Island, with an oration -prepared by the schoolmaster and recited by a promising pupil; but one -fears that on his later appearances at Newport poor Charles was somewhat -scrimply treated in the way of loyal addresses.</p> - -<p>Visitors to Newport nowadays come mainly for the sake of Carisbrooke -Castle, which is perhaps the chief attraction of the Island, drawing -thousands of excursionists on a holiday occasion. Carisbrooke, at one -time overshadowing the humble beginnings of Newport, is now almost one -of its suburbs, the distance being only a mile or so. From the end of -High Street, the way is by the Mall, a dignified parade that suggests -Bath or Clifton. The road divides at a memorial cross to Sir John -Simeon, Tennyson’s friend and neighbour at Swainston, notable as the -first Catholic to sit in a modern<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span> parliament, though he belonged to a -family whose theological associations were expressed by the Simeon Trust -for stocking pulpits with Evangelical divines. Either fork leads to -Carisbrooke, that to the right being the highway for the village, and -the other going more directly to the castle, under a height on which is -the cemetery.</p> - -<p>The Windsor of Newport is in itself a place to delight our American -guests, a long, steep village street of true British irregularity, -giving off straggling lanes of rose-wreathed cottages, through which, in -the hollow, flows a clear and shallow brook, bordered by luxuriant -hedges, and by notices of “Teas Provided.” The main thoroughfare, -mounting up to the Church, shows an unusual number of hotels and other -places of entertainment; and the excursion vehicles that rendezvous here -in summer rather disturb the peaceful charm of Carisbrooke, which too -evidently lives on its visitors.</p> - -<p>What is left of the Church, originally a double one divided between the -parish and a priory that stood here, still makes a spacious structure, -rearing the best tower in the Island, and enshrining some monuments and -relics, most notable among them the tomb of Sir Nicholas Wadham’s wife, -two generations before the founder of Wadham College. A quaint wooden -tablet recalls the career of William Keeling, one of the earliest of our -East Indian officials, whose name is preserved by the Keeling or Cocos -Islands discovered by him far out in the Indian Ocean, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span> our time to -be occupied by a Scottish family named Ross, who made this atoll group -into a thriving settlement. The churchyard has a good show of old -tombstones, including a weeping willow, railed in, as fanciful memorial -of a former vicar.</p> - -<p>A late incumbent was the Rev. E. Boucher James, whose Archæological and -Historical Letters made valuable contributions to the annals of the -Island. He does not omit to dig up the buried renown of his predecessor, -the Rev. Alexander Ross, that erudite and voluminous Scot, now -remembered only by the luck of rhyme that made a “sage philosopher” to -have “read Alexander Ross over,” yet by his pen or his preaching, or -somehow, he seems to have gained a considerable fortune, part of which -he left to the poor of Carisbrooke. Any modern reader who cares to -tackle this once-esteemed author, might try a spell at his “Πανσεβεια: -View of all Religions,” which is still to be seen at libraries, if not -on railway bookstalls. Another Carisbrooke worthy commemorated by Mr -James was William Stephens, who, after losing his fortune and his seat -as member for Newport, took part in General Oglethorpe’s philanthropic -plan for settling Georgia, came to be president of the colony, and ended -his life rather miserably in squabbles with the disciples of Whitfield -and other discontented immigrants. Among this learned parson’s records -is the pretty story of Dorothy Osborne, who, travelling with her father -and brother in the days of the Civil War, at an inn hereabouts fell in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span> -with the future Sir William Temple, and the beginning of their courtship -was through one of the young men scrawling on the window some -disrespectful words about the Parliament, which led to the whole party -being haled before the governor, to be released when Dorothy took the -offence on herself: those stern Ironsides did not war against ladies. -More than once the late vicar has to speak of his “friend and -parishioner,” Henry Morley, who here ended the labours on English -literature that made his name well known both in England and America.</p> - -<p>Beside the parsonage is a sixpenny show of pavements, and other remains -of a Roman villa unearthed about half a century ago, but since thrown -into the shade by the larger one discovered at Brading. A more recent -sign of Roman invasion is the establishment here of foreign religious -communities, driven by French secularism into this pleasant exile. It is -no common village that clusters about the tower, looking down “from its -centuries of grey calm on the fitful stir and fret around it, and the -fevered hopes and fears that must end at last in the quiet green mounds -at its feet.”</p> - -<p>The Castle stands across the valley, where its grey walls, buoyed by a -flagstaff, hardly peep out above the wooded slopes and the thick -greenery that floods the moat. This most picturesquely situated pile -represents a very ancient fortress, held by the Romans, as by ruder -warriors before them, then expanded and strengthened according to the -needs<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span> of different times, so as now in its half-dilapidated, -half-restored state, to form a charming medley of ruinous repair, -wreathed with various historic memories, and specially haunted by those -of the last year in which its walls were sternly guarded.</p> - -<p>The oldest part is the Norman Keep, raised upon a mound that gives a -fine prospect over Newport and down the Medina. Beautiful views can also -be had from the moated walls within which Carisbrooke’s inner defences -were enclosed by an Italian engineer in the days of the Armada. His work -appears to have been stopped by the failure of that enterprise; had it -been completed after his designs, this would have made the strongest -fortress in Elizabethan England; and it enjoys the distinction of a -virgin stronghold with no record of capture, unless may be counted to -the contrary its honourable surrender by Lady Portland’s tiny garrison -to the Parliamentary forces. The outer entrance bears the date 1598. The -massive inner Gate-house, begun at the same time as the Keep, shows work -of different periods, including recent restoration. Here, as so often in -the Island, something has to be paid for admission; and there are -further small charges for what an irreverent mind might term the -side-shows. The main attraction is the remains of the royal prison that -gives this castle its special interest as scene of almost the latest -English romance in the history of such “grey and ivied walls where ruin -greenly dwells.” Its earliest note<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_5" id="ILL_5"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i063_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i063_sml.jpg" width="313" height="409" alt="Image unavailable: CARISBROOKE CASTLE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CARISBROOKE CASTLE</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">in more misty annals seems to be that here Sir Bevis of Hampton, having -overcome his wicked stepfather, Sir Murdour, caused that traitor to be -boiled to death in a caldron of pitch and brimstone, one of the facts -not now known to “every schoolboy.” But such a well-informed personage -is no doubt aware how the most famous event of this castle’s story was -King Charles’ confinement here.</p> - -<p>After his escape from Hampton Court in November 1647, attended by three -gentlemen, the king made for the Solent, and crossed to the Isle of -Wight, believing the Governor, Colonel Hammond, to be favourable to him. -But Hammond, a connection of Cromwell, and son-in-law of John Hampden, -received Charles as a prisoner rather than a sovereign,—at first, -indeed, treated with respect and allowed to ride out hunting about -Parkhurst Forest, with the governor in his train. Carisbrooke was so -slightly guarded, that the king judged it easy to escape when he -pleased. At the end of the year, he did propose to escape to Southampton -down the Medina, but found himself baffled by a change of wind to the -north. After that, he was kept in closer restraint, most of his faithful -attendants being dismissed, and the Castle made a real prison. One -Captain Burley tried to raise a rescue for him at Newport, but was taken -prisoner, to be with legal mockery tried and executed for treason -against the king in his parliament.</p> - -<p>Poor Charles was soon stripped of what royal<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span> ceremonial had been left -him. For exercise he walked up and down the Tilt Yard turned into a -bowling-green, or round the ramparts, looking sadly out on the green -slopes that bounded his view. He spent much time in reading, writing, -and gloomy meditation. Now, according to a discredited tradition, he -finished that <i>Eikon Basilike</i> which has been almost conclusively shown -to be the work of Dr Thomas Gauden. Nor should his admirers press a -dubious title for him as poet, in the verses entitled <i>Majesty in -Misery</i>, that begin by a rather lame invocation—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great Monarch of the world, from whose power springs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The potency and power of kings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Record the royal woe my suffering brings,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And teach my tongue that ever did confine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its faculties in truth’s seraphic line,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To track the treasons of Thy foes and mine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">As sympathising attendants he had Harrington, author of <i>Oceana</i>, and -Thomas Herbert, who stuck by him to the end; while one Osborne, put near -him as a spy for the Parliament, seems to have been so far won by the -captive’s woes, that he is found helping an attempt at escape. The most -authentic occupation for the king’s too much leisure was intriguing with -his friends, by means of letters in cipher and other communications -through the trusty servants left him, till this secret correspondence -was tapped by his custodians.</p> - -<p>His cause was not yet lost. While Cromwell<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span> strove to trim the -captainless ship of State between the extreme Presbyterians and -Levellers, there were signs of reaction in the king’s favour. Fresh -civil war broke out from the still smouldering embers in different -parts. Hamilton with his army of Scots invaded England. Prince Charles -with a loyal section of the fleet hovered upon the east coast from his -base in Holland; and it seems strange that he made no attempt to rescue -his father by a landing on the Island, even when Parliamentary ships -guarded the Solent. The queen, on the continent, was hatching war -against the distracted government <i>de facto</i>, which had good reason for -holding her husband fast, lest he should place himself at the head of -any of these movements.</p> - -<p>In March a plot had nearly succeeded, by which Charles should have -broken out and ridden away with a band of loyal gentlemen of the Island, -as Mary did from Loch Leven. But he was not so lucky as his bewitching -grandmother. He stuck fast in a barred window, and had to give up the -attempt. Two months later, the bar having been filed or eaten away with -acid, he tried again, but being more closely watched, found Hammond on -the alert and double guards posted on the walls. Now confined in closer -quarters, the king seems to have lost heart. His uncrowned head turned -grey, he let his beard grow, and the once trim cavalier became careless -of his dress. Nor had his gaoler Hammond a happy time of it, who is -found complaining to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span> Cromwell of the “sad and heavy burden” laid upon -him, when he had hoped for peace and quiet in retiring from active -service to this backwater of civil strife.</p> - -<p>Yet still Charles might have been saved by a little more of the craft -that had brought him to ruin. In September he was moved to Newport for a -last effort at negotiation between himself and the Parliament, which now -saw reason to dread the army as a more formidable tyrant. But hopes of -an understanding stuck upon the point of religion, the “conscientious -and untrustworthy” king proving firm in his devotion to prelacy. He once -again seems to have thought of escaping, in spite of having given his -word to remain at Newport. Then, while the treaty dragged itself on, the -soldiers, exasperated by renewed bloodshed, raised a cry for sharper -measures. Cromwell began to talk loudly of justice. A band of his -troopers appeared in the Island to “guard” the residence of Charles, who -now refused to escape, as bound by his parole. On the last night of -November, the shifty and irresolute king was forcibly carried off to -Yarmouth by two troops of horse, to be ferried across to Hurst Castle, -and thence, before Christmas, taken to Windsor as prisoner of the army, -that meanwhile, by “Pride’s Purge,” had got rid of the moderate party in -Parliament, putting England under martial law.</p> - -<p>After Charles’ execution, Carisbrooke received two more royal prisoners, -Princess Elizabeth and the little Duke of Gloucester, kept in hand as -possible<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span> figure-head of a constitutional monarchy, now that his two -elder brothers were out of the Commonwealth’s power. The treatment of -these young captives makes a pleasant contrast to the fate of Louis -XVI.’ss children in their harsh prison, though some extremists had -proposed that the young malignants should be “apprenticed to honest -trades.” A yearly £1000 was granted for their support, £5000 having been -the king’s allowance. But almost at once the poor princess caught cold -through getting wet at a game of bowls, and a month later was laid, as -we saw, in Newport Church. The little duke, addressed as “Master Harry,” -was kept here for two years, then allowed by the Protector to join his -family on the continent, England being by this time provided with a -ruler who made more than a figure-head. This young prince died of -small-pox, just as the Restoration was opening brighter prospects for -his house. A later captive at Carisbrooke was Sir Henry Vane, a man too -good for those troubled times, whose fate was to offend all parties, -driven out of his governorship in Massachusetts, imprisoned by Cromwell, -and executed under Charles II. Sir William Davenant is said also to have -spent part of his imprisonment here.</p> - -<p>The scenes traditionally connected with that moving story are shown to -visitors. Relics of the unfortunate Charles and his family are preserved -in a museum above the gateway, a part of the castle restored by way of -memorial to her husband by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span> Princess Henry of Battenburg, who, as -Governor of the Island, is <i>châtelaine</i>, her deputy occupying a -habitable portion as keeper. The ruined chapel of St Nicholas in the -courtyard has also been restored, in memory of the king whom modern -historians make not so much of a saint and a martyr. Another sight of -the Castle is its deep well, from which water is drawn by a wheel worked -by a dynasty of donkeys that have the reputation of enjoying longer life -than falls to the lot of most monarchs.</p> - -<p>Carisbrooke has a station, a little to the north, on the Freshwater -line. Beyond this, the westward high-road is edged by a front of dark -firs that mark the enclosure of Parkhurst or Carisbrooke Forest, compact -fragment of a once more extensive woodland, swelling up into eminences -of two or three hundred feet. This is Government property, but ways -through it are open for shady rambles, very pleasant on a hot day. A -field-path from Newport, starting by a footbridge beside a prominent -block of brewery buildings just below the station, leads to the -south-east corner of the forest, where workhouse, prison, and barracks -adjoin one another to make up a little town. Parkhurst Prison, whose -inmates one has seen engaged in the idyllic occupation of haymaking -within a fence of fixed bayonets, ranks as a sort of sanatorium among -our convict depôts, to which delicate criminals are sent rather than to -the bleak heights of Portland or Dartmoor.</p> - -<p>The soldiers at the barracks are kept in better<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span> order than that Scots -regiment that proved such a curse and corruption to the quiet Wight -parishes in Oglander’s time. He represents them as billeted in the -Island “because they should not run away, being constrained for the most -part to serve contrary to their wills”—<i>volunteers</i>, as he elsewhere -calls them “a proud, beggarly nation, and I hope we shall never be -troubled with the like [again], especially the red-shanks, or the -Highlanders, being as barbarous in nature as their clothes.” These -strangers, “insolent by reason of their unanimous holding together,” -brought about so many “inconveniences,” murders, rapes, robberies, and -so forth, that when at length they were shipped off to the siege of La -Rochelle, after being reviewed by Charles on Arreton Down, the worthy -knight can record how “we were free from our Egyptian thraldom, or like -Spain from the Moors, for since the Danish slavery never were these -Islanders so oppressed.” In the outspoken fashion of his day, he notes -how the Scots left behind them a considerable strain of northern blood, -which may have been not altogether an evil for a too closely connected -neighbourhood, where, if all tales are true, marrying in and in has -generated a good deal of physical and mental feebleness.</p> - -<p>Keats, who seems to have written part of <i>Endymion</i> at Carisbrooke, -denounces the barracks at Parkhurst as a “nest of debauchery.” But at -the worst, they may have been an Arcadian nook compared to that East -India Company’s recruits depôt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span> near Ryde, described by Scott, in <i>The -Surgeon’s Daughter</i>, as a gaol of adventurous scum of society swept -together by crimps and kidnappers. Sir Walter must have visited or at -least coasted “the shore of that beautiful island, which he who once -sees never forgets,” when in 1807 he stayed with his friend Stewart Rose -at Gundimore on the Hampshire coast. Since his day, the Island has seen -various samples of Highland soldiers, and found them not too barbarous -either in dress or manners.</p> - -<p>By Parkhurst there is a pleasant way to Gurnard Bay, the nearest -bathing-place on the coast. Cowes, under half a dozen miles off, may be -gained by roads on either side the river, or by boat when the tide -serves. The well-shod and wary explorer might trace the Medina upwards -through the Downs, and among the peaty bogs of the “Wilderness” on to -its obscure source behind the Undercliff. On either side the “quarried -downs of Wight” offer fine airy walks with valley villages for goal, or -such points as the ancient British settlement, whose pit dwellings may -be traced by an antiquary’s eye in the hollow below Rowborough Downs, -near the road leading south from Carisbrooke. On the other side of the -Medina, by St George’s Down, is mounted the ridge of chalk stretching to -Brading and Bembridge.</p> - -<p>In fact Newport, too much neglected by tourists, unless as a -halting-place, would make an excellent station for visiting the whole -Island. I must be content with taking the reader on by the central -railway<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span> to the Undercliff. This goes out from Newport with the line to -Sandown, threading the Downs into the Yar Valley; then at Merston -Junction it turns off towards the southern heights swelling up beyond -Godshill station. But one must not forget to mention Shide, on the -outskirts of Newport, not only as a station for its golf-links on Pan -Down, but as a spot in wider touch with the world than any other on the -Island, for here Dr John Milne, F.R.S., has his Seismological -Observatory, if that be a fit title for an installation of instruments -by which earthquakes, thousands of miles away, are recorded long before -they get into newspapers—some indeed that never get into further -notice, spending their force at the bottom of the sea or in wildernesses -beyond the ken of “our own correspondent.”</p> - -<p>Godshill is one of the prettiest of the Island villages, claiming its -name from that oft-told legend of supernatural interference with the -building of a church, which by miraculous power was moved to its present -site on an eminence, where it holds up its tower as a conspicuous -landmark. This church is often visited both for the prospect from it, -and for its architectural merits and interesting memorials. Besides a -sixteenth century altar tomb of Sir John Leigh and monuments of the -Worsley family, it contains a specimen of their once famous art -collection in a picture of <i>Daniel in the Lion’s Den</i>, said to be in -part by Rubens, or at least after his style. An older patron is recorded -by a tablet praising<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span> one of the benefactors of the Newport Grammar -School.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here lies the mortal part of Richard Gard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While his freed spirit meets with heaven’s reward;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His gifts endowed the schools, the needy raised<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by the latest memory will be praised.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And may our Isle be filled with such a name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And be like him whom virtue clothed with fame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blessed with the poor, the scholars too were blest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through such a donor that is gone to rest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>A strange commentary on the truthfulness of epitaphs is the account of -that late lamented given by his contemporary Oglander, declaring him the -knavish son of a French refugee, whose father, Pierre Garde, had been -executed for treason in his own country. An extract on this head makes a -good specimen of Sir John’s random jottings, that open such curious -peeps into the state of his native Island at that date. One takes the -liberty of correcting his spelling; but the style seems past mending.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>Richard, the father, was a notable sly fellow, dishonest and given -to filching; he brought some tricks out of France with him. -<i>Vide</i>—he would steal a cow, and putting a loaf of bread hot out -of the oven on her horns, make her horns so supple that they would -turn any way he pleased, so as to disfigure the beast that the -owner might not know her again. Many other shifts he had, being a -man of no great conscience, by which means he recovered some -wealth, and died. His sons, Richard and Peter, did not degenerate; -Richard was as crafty a knave as any (except his brother) in a -whole country; he was good at reading and understanding of old -evidences, whereby he got many into his hands, and so forced the -owners to a composition. He was indifferently skilled in law, a -most penurious base fellow, and of little religion; he died about -1616, and in his will gave Richard, the eldest son of Peter, the -better part of his estate, having no children of his</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_6" id="ILL_6"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i074_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i074_sml.jpg" width="619" height="442" alt="Image unavailable: GODSHILL" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">GODSHILL</span> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">own. He willed his body to be coffined in lead, and to be laid but -2 foot deep in the earth, in the porch of Godshill Church, as -unwilling that too much earth should hinder him from rising at the -resurrection; where we will leave him, to speak of Peter, the -second brother, and son of Richard the Bandit.</p> - -<p>This Peter had left him by his father a little land at St Helens -(which how it might be purchased in his own name, being an alien, I -leave) worth per annum £5. Richard the elder brother being willing -to cheat his brother Peter of the land, was an importunate suitor -to buy it of him; the other, as crafty, permitted him to feed him -with money, and having had half or better of the worth of it, was -drawn (as he made himself very unwilling) to sign a deed of sale -thereof to his brother; but he being at that time under age; the -first act he did when he came of age was to cheat the cheater, and -nullify that deed by non-age. The enmity then between the two -brothers was great; they vilified one another, and discovered each -other’s knavery to the view of the whole Island. I cannot omit one -in silence, being so notorious. Richard Garde had good store of -monies, and durst not trust any man with it, no not his own house, -but hid it in a pot underground in the field, where one Smyth, his -neighbour, mistrusting some such matter, observed him more -narrowly, and by watching him found an opportunity to gain the -hidden pot. The other when he missed it, esteeming it little less -than his God, had well-near hanged himself, but that he had some -confidence by the devil’s means to recover it, whereupon the -brothers, now friends, consult of the means—Peter as the more -active man undertakes it, goes to a witch near Kingwood, or -somewhere, and brought home certain hope of the short return of the -monies; whereupon this Smyth, the Saturday following, was taken on -Hazely Hill on his return from Newport, and there in a great storm -was beaten, haled, whipped, misused, and almost killed (had not -some the next morning found him by chance) not knowing or seeing -who did act it, but affirmed it was the devil; and being long ill -after, could not be quiet in conscience till he had brought home -the pot of silver again to Richard Garde’s house to Binstead, -according to the true relation formerly made to Peter by the witch. -Peter, he got still lands and livings, whether by right or wrong I -suppose he little respected; he was, and is, one of the slyest, -craftiest knaves that I know; wit and judgment in matters of law he -hath enough both to serve his own turn and to cozen his neighbours; -a man worse spoken of I never knew.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span></p> - -<p>A more honourable name was the Worsleys, here commemorated, long one of -the chief families in the Island, that had its principal seat at -Appuldurcombe on the high downs above Godshill. Its most notable member -was Sir Richard Worsley, a cultured Georgian squire, who wrote the -history of the Island in quarto, and on his travels made a celebrated -art collection to adorn the stately classical mansion which he -completed, replacing what had been a Benedictine Abbey. By marriage, the -house and its treasures passed to the Earls of Yarborough, who, half a -century ago left the Island, carrying away the art collection to be -mainly dispersed.</p> - -<p>The Lord Yarborough of early Victorian times was a “character,” doughty -commodore of the R.Y.S., who tried to play Canute against the advance of -railways, a prejudice then shared by high and low, as we learn in -Herbert Spencer’s autobiography. His arbitrary lordship had his lands -protected against this radical innovation by a guard charged to take -into custody anybody with a theodolite, or who looked in the least like -a railway engineer. Upon one occasion, a man newly appointed to the -post, meeting his master in a secluded part of the estate, at once -collared him, an incident to be paralleled by Mr John Mytton’s famous -fight, in the disguise of a sweep, with his own keeper.</p> - -<p>The mansion, whose name should be strongly accented on the last -syllable, stands in a combe, well displayed against its background of -dark wood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span> Since it passed to “overners,” it has been turned into an -hotel, then into a school; and a few years ago was acquired by a -community of Benedictine monks exiled from France, thus coming back to -its original owners. As already mentioned, this Order has since acquired -Quarr Abbey, and are spreading their establishments so fast over the -Island, that sound Protestants dread to see given up to cloisters all of -it that is not dedicated to golf.</p> - -<p>For laymen and strangers in general the most interesting spot of this -demesne is the Worsley obelisk on the highest point of the Downs, raised -by Sir Richard Worsley to a height of 70 feet, but in 1831 struck by -lightning that shattered its huge blocks of granite into wild confusion. -From this half-ruined landmark the most extensive view in the Island -displays its whole length and breadth, from the chalk cliffs of Culver -to those about the Needles.</p> - -<p>The railway, whose whistle might make that prejudiced Lord Yarborough -turn in his grave, of course keeps clear of far prospects, taking a -break in the Downs to thread its way through by Whitwell, which has a -remarkable restored church, originally composed of two chapels, one -belonging to Gatcombe, some miles north-west, once seat of another -branch of the Worsley family, and having an ancient church of its own. -Thus the line drops down into the rich greenery of the Undercliff, at St -Lawrence turning eastward above the shore, to reach Ventnor beside -Steephill Castle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_EAST_SIDE" id="THE_EAST_SIDE"></a>THE EAST SIDE</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> more direct route from Ryde to Ventnor is by road, rail, or boat -along the east coast. From the Newport line diverges the old Ventnor -railway, at Brading sending off a branchlet for Bembridge, then holding -on behind Sandown and Shanklin. Thus on this side are strung together -the oldest and one of the youngest settlements of the Isle of Wight.</p> - -<p>Brading, an hour’s walk from Ryde, seems an insignificant place now; but -it claims to have been the ancient metropolis of the Island in days when -St Helens was its chief port. Brading Harbour, still a tidal creek that -at high water dignifies the landscape, once made a wider and deeper -gulf, which guide-books of a century back describe as an inland lake set -in woods. Time was, says Sir John Oglander, that boats came up to the -middle of Brading Street, and in the haven below there would be choice -of twenty good shipmasters to undertake any voyage. Then the harbour -having become choked by unwholesome marshes, an attempt was made to -embank them, in which work Sir Hugh Middleton of New River fame had a -hand, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span> certain “ignorant Dutchmen” were brought over to put in -practice the art to which they owed their own native soil. But the -Dutchmen’s dykes broke down; and the land was not thoroughly reclaimed -till our own time saw the enterprise accomplished by that “Liberator” -Company of else evil renown.</p> - -<p>Thus Brading came to be gradually stranded some mile or two inland. The -townlet, that once sent two members to Parliament, has relics to show of -its old dignity, its bull ring, its stocks, and its Norman Church, rich -in monuments, notably the Oglander Chapel enshrining tombs of a family -settled at Nunwell on Brading Down for many centuries, among them the -effigy of that Sir John Oglander, whose memoranda have been so much -drawn on by later writers. He tells how then “many score” of Oglanders -lay in this oldest church of the Island, where the latest addition to -the family chapel is a fine monument to his descendant of the Victorian -age.</p> - -<p>The churchyard contains more than one celebrated epitaph, such as that -set to music by Dr Calcott—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">and another on a child—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This lovely bud, so young, so fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Called hence by early doom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just came to show how sweet a flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Paradise would bloom.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Here was buried “Jane the young Cottager,” whose humble name has been -spread far by Legh Richmond,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span> curate of this parish at the end of the -eighteenth century. It is to be feared that his writings are not so well -known to our generation as they once were in the religious world, for he -belonged to that school of Evangelical saints, who dwelt more on “Gospel -truths” than on “sound Church feeling”; and his long-spun deathbed -scenes are hardly to the taste of readers who have learned to look for -more piquant flavours in the literature of edification. But in the Isle -of Wight, where Protestantism puts down its foot the more firmly for -recent Catholic invasion, this kindly pastor’s “Annals of the Poor” -still seem to find a sale, as they once did in many languages. Mr -Boucher James goes so far as to say that “in a small way Legh Richmond -did for the Isle of Wight what Walter Scott did for the Scottish -Highlands,” by drawing tourists to seek out the scenes of his tracts. At -all events he deserves the brass now placed to his memory in Brading -Church.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>The much restored Church claims to represent that first erected on the -same site by Wilfred, apostle of the Island. But another lion of Brading -is older than its church, though unknown to Legh Richmond’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span> generation. -This is the Roman villa, discovered a generation ago by Mr Hilton Price, -Director of the Society of Antiquaries, which boasts itself to be the -finest of such miniature Pompeiis in England. It stands about a mile to -the south-west, near Yarbridge, the way being easily found, since -direction posts are never wanting in the Isle of Wight where there is -anything to pay for admission; and the tarred sheds that protect the -remains stand conspicuous against a chalk cutting on the Downs. A score -or so apartments have been unearthed, in some of which were found many -relics of the Roman occupation, the most interesting part of the show -being the tesselated pavements with their mosaic designs. There appear -traces of two successive ownerships, and of the villa having been -destroyed by fire, perhaps on the evacuation of Britain by the Roman -troops. The complete building seems to have been composed of the -<i>Urbana</i>, or master’s dwelling, the <i>Rustica</i>, or quarters for -dependents, and the <i>Fructuaria</i>, store-houses and offices, arranged on -three sides of a rectangle.</p> - -<p>From Brading the central line of downs runs westward for half-a-dozen -miles to the valley of the Medina. On the height known as Ashey Down, a -stone pyramid, erected as a sea-mark, makes one of the favourite -view-points, looking over half the Island and across the Solent to -Portsmouth. Further along, below a crest marked by Saxon burrows, -Arreton has a fine prospect upon the valley of the Yar to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span> south. -This is one of the Island’s show villages, where excursion coaches stop -to let their passengers see the Church with its medley of Gothic -features, and the grave of the “Dairyman’s Daughter,” another of Legh -Richmond’s heroines, lying at peace among warriors and knights of old. -The old manor-house of this scattered village bears marks of bygone -dignity; but destruction has come upon Knighton, which a century or so -back could still be called the stateliest hall of the Island.</p> - -<p>In the <i>Dairyman’s Daughter</i>, Legh Richmond turns his thoughts from -heaven to earth to give a description of what one surveys from the Ashey -Down sea-mark; one may omit some final features which have altered since -his day, as well as the moral drawn by the good clergyman from the fact -that so “much of the natural beauties of Paradise still remain in the -world.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>Southward the view was terminated by a long range of hills, at -about six miles distance. They met, to the westward, another chain -of hills, of which the one whereon I sat formed a link, and the -whole together nearly encompassed a rich and fruitful valley, -filled with corn-fields and pastures. Through this vale winded a -small valley for many miles; much cattle were feeding on its banks. -Here and there lesser eminences arose in the valley; some covered -with wood, others with corn or grass, and a few with heath or fern. -One of these little hills was distinguished by a parish church at -the top, presenting a striking feature in the landscape. Another of -these elevations, situated in the centre of the valley, was adorned -with a venerable holly-tree, which has grown there for ages. Its -singular height and wide-spreading dimensions not only render it an -object of curiosity to the traveller, but of daily usefulness to -the pilot, as a mark visible from the sea, whereby to direct his -vessel safe into harbour. Villages,</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_7" id="ILL_7"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i085_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i085_sml.jpg" width="416" height="302" alt="Image unavailable: WATER MEADOWS OF THE YAR NEAR ALVERSTONE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">WATER MEADOWS OF THE YAR NEAR ALVERSTONE</span> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">churches, country-seats, farmhouses, and cottages were scattered -over every part of the southern valley....</p> - -<p>South-eastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only by the horizon. -The sun shone, and gilded the waves with a glittering light that -sparkled in the most brilliant manner. More to the east, in -continuation of that line of hills where I was placed, rose two -downs, one beyond the other; both covered with sheep, and the sea -just visible over the farthest of them, as a terminating boundary. -In this point, ships were seen, some sailing, others at anchor. -Here the little river, which watered the southern valley, finished -its course, and ran through meadows into the sea, in an eastward -direction.</p> - -<p>On the north the sea appeared like a noble river, varying from -three to seven miles in breadth, between the banks of the opposite -coast and those of the island which I inhabited. Immediately -underneath me was a fine woody district of country, diversified by -many pleasing objects. Distant towns were visible on the opposite -shore. Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered station which this -northern channel afforded them. The eye roamed with delight over an -expanse of near and remote beauties, which alternately caught the -observation, and which harmonised together, and produced a scene of -peculiar interest.</p> - -<p>Westward the hills followed each other, forming several -intermediate and partial valleys, in a kind of undulations, like -the waves of the sea; and, bending to the south, completed the -boundary of the larger valley before described, to the southward of -the hill on which I sat.</p></div> - -<p>This river Yar, not to be confounded with its namesake on the other side -of the Island, rises in the southern downs that bound the prospect over -its valley. At Brading, it finds a gap through the northern heights, -beyond which it winds sluggishly into that shrunken harbour. Above the -left side stands St Helens, with its wide green and fringe of leafy -lanes, having moved up from a lower site, where an ivied fragment of the -old church shows its whitewashed face to the sea as a beacon. The sandy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span> -spit here has also been turned to use for golf-links, that helped -yachting to make the fortune of Bembridge. The Island seems now in a -fair way of being half laid out in golf grounds, but these were the -first, or among the first, which, though small, had the advantage of a -mild climate to invite enthusiasts in winter, when elsewhere red balls -would be necessary for their absorbing pastime. Links for ladies are a -later addition, on the opposite side of the river, that the eyes of -neither sex may be distracted from a foursome to what might become a -twosome game of life.</p> - -<p>Bembridge itself, linked to St Helens by a ferry boat, nestles very -prettily on the wooded point opposite. The nucleus of nautically named -inns and cottages is much overlaid by hotel and lodging-house -accommodation, and by villas whose owners declare Bembridge to be the -Island’s pleasantest spot. One of its chief attractions, after golf, is -the view of shipping in the Solent mouth; but it has some pretty spots -on land, such as the avenue running inland from the bathing beach. To -the south it is sheltered by the Foreland, the most easterly point, over -which we may hold by mounting lanes, or take a rough path round the -shore, tide permitting, that has also to be considered in boating about -the dangerous Bembridge Ledges roughening the sea at low water.</p> - -<p>Thus we pass on to the curve of Whitecliff Bay, where the chalk of the -Downs is broken by an expanse of Eocene beds, making for the geologist a -foretaste<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_8" id="ILL_8"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i091_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i091_sml.jpg" width="419" height="302" alt="Image unavailable: SANDOWN BAY" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">SANDOWN BAY</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">of that more glowing transformation scene shown in Alum Bay at the -Island’s western end. The Culver Cliffs at this end are protected by a -fort which has masked the Hermit’s Hole, a cave once used by smugglers. -On the other side of Bembridge is a small fortress, now so far behind -the times that it was lately advertised as suitable for a private -residence or an hotel.</p> - -<p>Beyond Whitecliff Bay, the cliffs curve into the block of Bembridge -Down, crowned by a modern fort that has usurped the originally more -conspicuous site of Lord Yarborough’s monument, now neighboured by a -Marconi Telegraph Station. On the southern slope are the tiny Norman -Church and decayed manor-house of Yaverland, which makes a scene in the -<i>Dairyman’s Daughter</i>. Here we have come round to Sandown Bay, the -largest and openest in the Island, reached byroad and rail from Brading -through the gap at Yarbridge.</p> - -<p>Sandown stands in a break of the cliffs, behind the centre of its bay, -compared of course to the Bay of Naples by those who never saw Vesuvius. -With its hotels, rows of smart lodging-houses, batteries of -bathing-machines, esplanade, arcade, and other very modern features, -this seems one of the most growing places in the Island; and I trust -Sandown will not take it amiss to be described as perhaps the most -commonplace resort here, or at least the most like the ordinary -Saturday-to-Monday. Its strong point is wide, firm sands for children, -and, on a common<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span> behind the town, excellent golf-links for their -elders, about the height known as “Majuba Hill,” the views from which -are complained of by votaries as interfering with strict attention to -their game. The summer season of this bathing-place is so prosperous -that some day its esplanade and Shanklin’s may stretch out to meet along -the couple of miles of cliff walk separating them. As link between them -springs up Lake, with its sumptuous “Home of Rest,” and its headquarters -of Isle of Wight cricket, behind the cliff descent at Littlestairs.</p> - -<p>Sandown Pier has met with rough handling from winter waves, to which, -however, the enterprising town will not give in so easily as did King -Canute, whose renowned object-lesson against pride, according to legend, -had its scene not far off, across the Solent. The railway station, which -stands some way back from the sea, is a junction of lines to Newport, -Ventnor, and Ryde, so that Sandown visitors can easily reach more -picturesque corners of the Island, or can soon gain the Downs framing -the green valley of the Yar. Up this valley the first station is -Alverston, near a knoll known as Queen’s Bower, from the tradition that -upon it Isabella de Fortibus watched the chase in what was then Bordwood -Forest. Near the next station, on an eminence beside the river, stands -up the ancient fane of Newchurch, a parish that, in spite of its name, -is old enough to have once included both Ryde and Ventnor in its ample -bounds. Then by Harringford Station below Arreton Down,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span> the line comes -to Merston Junction, there forking north and south.</p> - -<p>In old days Sandown, then known rather as Sandham, was distinguished by -a “castle,” which has given place to less imposing but more formidable -modern forts, serving as models for sand-engineering to the troops of -children encamped here in summer. Its only other historical association -seems to be as retreat of the notorious John Wilkes in his old age, -cheered by more gentle pursuits than might be expected of a so -unedifying demagogue. He was given to rearing pigeons, as well as to -collecting books and china, at his Sandown “Villakin,” a sort of tawdry -miniature of Horace Walpole’s show, to which the owner’s notoriety -attracted many visitors. One describes him as walking about his grounds -“in Arcadian costume,” raking up weeds with a hoe and destroying vipers. -He complained that the pigeons he got from England, Ireland, and France -always took the first chance of flying home, so that he had almost given -up pigeon-keeping, “when I bethought myself to procure a cock and hen -pouter from Scotland: I need not add that <i>they never returned</i>.” This -cockney bitterness against North Britons, it will be remembered, made a -common subject between Dr Johnson and the ex-Lord Mayor, when Boswell -had his wish of bringing them together. Wilkes showed one visitor a pond -in the garden stocked with carp, tench, perch, and eels, because, he -said, fish could not be had by the seaside. Here he also employed -himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span> in writing the memoirs which he had the decency to destroy. The -toothless old rip, with one foot in the grave, bragged how his squinting -eye had done great execution with the pretty farmers’ daughters at -Newport market: well known is his boast, that, monster of ugliness as he -was, he could “talk away his face,” so as to be only a quarter of an -hour behind the handsomest man. Another story is that when, on his last -crossing of the Solent, the vessel was becalmed, he jocularly affected -to take this as a presage of death, since he had never been able to live -in a calm; but his retreat at Sandown seems to have been quiet enough -for Cowper or Hannah More.</p> - -<p>If, to set off against that ribald sojourner of its neighbour’s, -Shanklin wanted to boast a notorious character, it was a generation ago -the headquarters, as perhaps rather it would prefer to forget, of one of -the most audacious criminals of our time, whose life, so far as I know, -has never been written, unless in criminal calendars. His real name, it -appears, was Benson, which does not figure in the Dictionary of National -Biography, though it deserves a place there beside Claude Duval’s and -George Barrington’s; while I am mistaken if it were not qualified by -nationality. On this side of the Channel he called himself a Frenchman; -but he spoke French and English equally well, as would hardly have been -the case, had he not passed his youth in England. He was certainly a -Jew, of typically Jewish aspect. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span> adventurous career would make a -theme for the pen that chronicled Jonathan Wild’s; and if I offer a -sketch of it, <i>faute de mieux</i>, it is because I had the advantage of -knowing him. He did me the honour of trying to make me one of his dupes, -in which enterprise, I am glad to say, he succeeded less well than in -other cases; and I did not care to cultivate an acquaintance which he -pressed upon me. But with a little help from hearsay and surmise, I -believe I can supply an outline of his history, wrapped as it was in -clouds of deceit.</p> - -<p>He was, I am told, the son of a prosperous Jewish tradesman established -at Paris, who had means to put him in a position of respectability, if -not of wealth, “instead of which,” young Benson from his youth took to -knavery like a duck to the water. I have heard that in early life he had -been connected with the French or the Belgian press; and he showed some -familiarity with journalism, which he sought to turn to account in his -swindling schemes. That part of his life, indeed, lies in deep shadow, -which might be cleared up by research among police <i>dossiers</i> of the -continent.</p> - -<p>His first notable <i>coup</i> in England seems to have been during the -Franco-Prussian War, when he flew at such high game as the very Lord -Mayor. A French town had been burned by the Prussians. While this -disaster was still fresh on our news sheets, there burst into the -Mansion House a voluble gentleman professing to be the mayor of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span> that -town, come to throw himself on the generosity of the great English -nation. Our sympathetic Lord Mayor handed out a thousand pounds; and it -was whispered at the time that this plausible guest carried off also the -heart of his lordship’s daughter. The clever trick ended in detection, -arrest, and two years’ imprisonment; then by way of varying the monotony -of Newgate, Benson tried to set fire to his cell, but succeeded only in -burning himself about the spine, so as to be henceforth a helpless -cripple. There were some who surmised that he made the most of this -injury as helping out his disguise of deceit; but I never saw his slight -figure unless as recumbent on a couch, or carried like a child in the -arms of a big Frenchman, who passed as his valet, being really one of -the swindling gang of which Benson was the brain. His crippled state was -put down to a railway accident.</p> - -<p>After his release from Newgate comes a period of obscurity, from which -he emerges about 1875 as living in some style at Shanklin, with a London -<i>pied à terre</i> in Cavendish Square, a brougham, and everything genteel -about him. It was at this time I made his acquaintance. He then passed -under the name of Yonge, with some explanation which I forget; but he -confided to me and to others how he was really the Count de Montague, a -Frenchman engaged in conspiring for the Empire, business that was to -account for the seclusion in which he lived. This struck me as dubious: -in those days, before<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span> dynamite outrages, one could conspire at the -pitch of one’s voice in the middle of Piccadilly without anyone caring -to interfere. Moreover, in writing to me, he signed himself <i>De -Montagu</i>, whereas, for a more favoured friend, he decorated the name -with a final <i>e</i>. It took little Sherlock Holmes’ faculty to detect that -a French nobleman ought to know how to spell his own name; but I am glad -to say that from my first sight of the “Count,” I distrusted a gentleman -whose dress and manners seemed too fine to be true. He never deceived me -by his pretensions; and his overdone elegance served to set others on -their guard. Indeed, like Joseph Andrews, he might have passed for a -nobleman with one who had not seen many noblemen.</p> - -<p>For not being taken in by him, I have perhaps to thank my deficiencies. -His chief accomplishment, it seems, was playing the piano like an angel, -which left me cold, while it drew tuneful flies into his web of treasons -and stratagems. Some women were much taken by his feline manners, which -on others produced such a feeling of repulsion as was my experience. One -family became so captivated as to act as his social sponsors in the Isle -of Wight, where he was received with open arms. If I remember right, it -was a house belonging to this family which he tenanted; and rumour went -that his admiring landlady’s eyes were hardly opened even by the -exposure that cost her dear. Several writers for the press were brought -into relations with him<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span> through a well-known author, who has to confess -that he allowed his honesty to be deceived. When urged to search closer -into Benson’s antecedents, he was content to let himself be put off with -audacity. “Go to the French Ambassador!” exclaimed that plausible knave; -but no such inquiry was carried out; and his most solid credentials were -from a London bank, that knew nothing of him but his having a -considerable balance to draw upon.</p> - -<p>How he got the means to figure thus as a wealthy foreigner, I know not; -but I have a good guess as to a main aim of his schemes which never came -to light. At this time he was concerned in founding a periodical which -was to champion religion, loyalty, honesty, and other causes he -professed to have at heart. He knew very little about the higher walks -of the press; and his design wavered between a newspaper and a -half-crown monthly. In the latter form the organ financed by him did -appear, soon to be eclipsed. Its name and short history are best -forgotten. The pious founder, not being so ready with his pen as with -his tongue, proposed to me to write an article on certain money-market -matters, the tone and facts of which article were to be dictated by him. -He was such a shallow knave that he did not take the precaution of -carefully testing my likelihood to be a fit tool in his hands; and at my -first interview with him, he took for granted that I knew nothing of -French; then, by the way in which he and his valet <i>parlez-voused</i> to -each other before my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span> face, I soon got a suspicion they were not master -and servant.</p> - -<p>By no means prepossessed in his favour by the ease with which he -reckoned on catching me, I refused to enlist myself as literary bravo in -affairs quite beyond my scope. He did find a more subservient scribe to -write such an article as he had outlined, which the publisher refused to -print as libellous; then Benson was for bringing an action against the -firm by way of advertisement for his organ, now launched with a great -flourish of trumpets. This was at a time when certain papers had done -more or less good service, to themselves and the public, by exposing -scandals in the financial world. On that example, I believe Benson aimed -at gaining a character for audacious honesty, then using it to rig the -money-market to his own profit <i>quo cumque modo</i>, or to levy blackmail -in a manner since perfected by certain “financial” papers that are the -disgrace of our journalism.</p> - -<p>I never understood why he took some pains to enlist me as his -accomplice, or could imagine that he had found in me a congenial spirit. -More than once he asked me to his house in the Isle of Wight; but it -proved well that I never accepted any hospitality from him. To oblige my -friend the editor, whose only fault in the matter was a generous -trustfulness, I did write for his organ on subjects in my own line; but -my misgivings held me back from personal intercourse with the -proprietor. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span> last time I saw him was at a dinner party, some way out -of London, given to make him acquainted with the staff of his literary -enterprise. He had now come to whispering that he was no less than a -prince, who for certain reasons preferred to be <i>incognito</i>; and some of -us needy scribblers were much impressed by his condescension. He pressed -on me the honour of having a lift back to town in his carriage, which I -accepted very unwillingly, so strong had grown my suspicions. On our -drive, I remember, the main drift of his conversation was contempt for -the company we had just left; and he abused the host for asking the like -of him to meet such outsiders; but I did not respond to the flattery -implied in such confidences, with which once more he seemed inviting me -to intimacy. I congratulated myself on my reserve, when next week a -reward of £1000 was offered for the arrest of this pseudo-prince, set in -his true light by a notorious trial that followed in the spring of 1877, -after he had been run to earth in Scotland, somewhere about the Bridge -of Allan.</p> - -<p>This was known as the Turf Frauds case; but I forgot the precise details -of the ingenious swindle which Benson, along with several accomplices, -was convicted of practising on a French lady, the Comtesse de Goncourt. -As ringleader, and as formerly convicted of forgery, he was sentenced to -fifteen years’ imprisonment. In the course of the trial, it came out -that he had managed to corrupt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span> some of the minor officials of Newgate, -and to keep up relations outside, by whose help this cripple had plotted -a daring escape. Then, his fate being decided, he sought to gain some -remission of his punishment by turning informer on another set of -accomplices; and the public was amazed, not to say dismayed, to learn -that several of the detective inspectors of Scotland Yard had been in -this scoundrel’s pay, hobnobbing with him as his guests, and serving -warnings on him instead of the warrants entrusted to them. The story is -too long to tell that came out in a three weeks’ sensational trial at -the end of the same year. One or two of the accused detectives got off -in a cloud of suspicion; but the others, as well as a solicitor who had -been leagued with them, convicted chiefly on Benson’s evidence, were -sentenced to two years’ imprisonment, from which a couple of -ex-inspectors emerged to start in the shady profession of private -inquiry agents.</p> - -<p>I am not sure if Benson served his full term in England; but it was many -years afterwards that I heard of him as having again got into trouble in -Switzerland. This time, he must have come off easily, for when three or -four more years had passed, he is seen seeking fortune in the New World. -Here his last trick was as ingenious and bold as his first appearance at -the Mansion House. A great singer, Madame Patti if I mistake not, was -eagerly expected at the Opera House of Mexico City. A few days in -advance of her, came to the Iturbide Hotel a polite<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span> gentleman giving -himself out as her agent. This was Benson, who, having sold all the -boxes and stalls, made off with his plunder in a special train, and -managed to get out of the country, but was arrested, I understand, in -New York, to be held for extradition. It is probable that Mexican penal -servitude has terrors even for habitués of Newgate and Dartmoor. At all -events, poor Benson, in despair, committed suicide by throwing himself -over a landing in his prison. So ended my would-be host in the Isle of -Wight, where he entertained worthier guests than me, not to speak of his -train of friendly detectives.</p> - -<p>This is but an ugly story to tell of such a pretty place as Shanklin, an -older and a choicer resort than Sandown, favoured by visitors both in -winter and summer, and with a good share of permanent residents -attracted by its charms. As in the case of Lynton and Lynmouth, Shanklin -has a double character. By the sea has sprung up a new bathing-place -with a smart esplanade, showy pier, a disfiguringly convenient lift to -the top of the cliff, and everything spick and span. The old Shanklin -behind offers a contrast in its nucleus of embowered cottages, and its -irregular High Street hugging an inland hollow, about which villas are -half-buried in blooming gardens and clumps of foliage, like the huge -myrtles that enclose the little parsonage near the churchyard in its -grove of gravestones. But for some rawer rows of houses stretching out -towards the cliff, upper Shanklin has lost little of the charm that -struck Lord Jeffrey,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_9" id="ILL_9"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i107_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i107_sml.jpg" width="406" height="306" alt="Image unavailable: SHANKLIN VILLAGE—MOONLIGHT AFTER RAIN" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">SHANKLIN VILLAGE—MOONLIGHT AFTER RAIN</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">when he described the village as “very small and <i>scattery</i>, all mixed -up with trees, and lying among sweet airy falls and swells of ground -which finally rise up behind the breezy Downs 800 feet high, and sink -down in front to the edge of the varying cliffs which overhang a pretty -beach of fine sand, and are approachable by a very striking wooded -ravine which they call the Chine.”</p> - -<p>An earlier visitor was Keats, who is understood to have written his -<i>Lamia</i> in a cottage, not now standing, about the opening rechristened -“Keats’ Green” in honour of this sojourn, when, to tell the truth, he -wrote of the Isle of Wight as “but so, so,” though he admired the coast -from Shanklin to Bonchurch, as well he might. Longfellow, who wrote an -inscription for a fountain near his hotel, called Shanklin “one of the -quietest and loveliest places in the kingdom,” with which, indeed, his -acquaintance had not been exhaustive.</p> - -<p>Shanklin and Sandown, the most growing resorts of the Island of late -years, love one another like Liverpool and Manchester, like Ramsgate and -Margate, like St Paul’s and Minneapolis, and other pairs of too near -rivals for popularity. Careful parents may prefer Sandown as a place -where their youngsters will find nothing to fall off; but poetic and -artistic souls will give their vote for Shanklin, which has chalybeate -springs and elaborate baths as attraction, as well as beautiful -surroundings. Its beauty spot <i>par excellence</i> is, of course, the Chine -above mentioned,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span> which makes one of the shows of the Island. The -Chines, so named here and on the opposite mainland coast—but in one -part of Hampshire <i>Bunny</i> is a less romantic title for them—are deep, -irregular ravines carved out by streams of water upon cliffs of soft -clay or sand, often sheltering a profusion of tangled vegetation, or -again, as at Bournemouth, revealing the frame of naked nature. The -Shanklin Chine, in the former variety, is by many judged the prettiest, -as it is perhaps the best known to visitors. A description of it may be -borrowed from Black’s <i>Guide to the Isle of Wight</i>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>This popular sight, like other wonders of nature on the Island, is -enclosed, a small charge being made for admission, and in more than -one respect rather suggests the tea-garden order of resort, but -nothing can spoil it. It is to be entered at either end, but -excursion coaches usually bring their passengers to the head of the -Chine. At the top will be found a ferruginous spring. Here the -chasm is at its narrowest, increasing till it has a breadth of -nearly 300 feet, while the steep sides are in parts almost 200 feet -high. Winding walks take one for some quarter of a mile down a deep -glen, which differs notably from Blackgang Chine in being choked up -with trees and a rich undergrowth of ferns, moss, and brushwood, -wherever any shade-loving plant can take root. Into the top pours a -little waterfall, rushing to the sea at the bottom of this -wilderness of greenery.</p></div> - -<p>But even without its Chine, Shanklin would have a right to be proud of -itself. It lies at the corner of the southern range of Downs that -separate it from Ventnor and the Undercliff. Open and airy walks may be -taken on these heights; or less arduous strolls by the leafy knolls and -hollows on their flanks. One favourite ramble is to Cook’s Castle, an -artificial ruin<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_10" id="ILL_10"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i113_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i113_sml.jpg" width="303" height="419" alt="Image unavailable: SHANKLIN CHINE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">SHANKLIN CHINE</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">upon a wooded brow commanding a fine view, whence it is a short mile to -Wroxall, the next station on the railway as it bends inland, to find -nothing for it but a tunnel through the heights that shelter Ventnor.</p> - -<p>From the bottom of Shanklin Chine, when the tide is out, one can follow -the coast round the fissured crags of Dunnose, on which a cliff-walk is -always open. Thus is reached Luccombe Chine, a modestly retiring scene, -not so easily found, since there is no charge for admission; but well -worth finding. Beyond this one enters the tangled wilderness of the -Landslip, through which winds a path for Bonchurch. But here we come -within the purlieus of Ventnor, and round to the “Back of the Island.”</p> - -<p>From the heights at this corner, one looks down upon the scene of one of -the saddest of naval disasters in our day, recorded in churchyards that -show the tombs of so many young lives. Off Dunnose was lost, in 1878, -the training ship <i>Eurydice</i>, with her company of hearty and hopeful -lads. I well remember how that Sunday afternoon the March wind blustered -on the northern heights of London. But under the lee of the Undercliff, -the homeward bound sailors hailed it as a favouring breeze; then with -ports open and under all plain canvas, the <i>Eurydice</i> spanked on round -Dunnose, passing out of shelter of the Downs, to be taken aback by a -snow squall, that threw her on her beam-ends before the men could -shorten sail. Many of them must have been drowned as they rushed to -struggle up on deck, from which others<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span> were swept away, blinded by the -snow, or drawn down in the vortex of the sinking vessel. Three or four -came to be picked up, an hour later, by a passing collier, and only two -lived to tell the amazement of their sudden wreck, whose victims had -much the same fate as those of the <i>Royal George</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gone in a moment! hurried headlong down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From light and hope to darkness and despair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plunged into utter night without renown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bereft of all—home, country, earth, and air—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without a warning, yea, without a prayer!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_UNDERCLIFF" id="THE_UNDERCLIFF"></a>THE UNDERCLIFF</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> “Back of the Island” is a familiar name given locally to the south -coast, its eastern end more widely famed as the Undercliff. All this -side is marked by sterner features and sharper outlines than the shallow -creeks and flats of the northern shore; and through its geological -history the Undercliff makes a peculiar exhibition of picturesqueness, -while by its winter climate it is one of England’s most favoured nooks.</p> - -<p>Here a narrow strip of shore lies for miles walled in to the north by a -steep bank several hundred feet high, sometimes presenting a rugged face -of sandstone cliff, elsewhere rising in the turf swell of chalk downs. -But the bastions of rock thus displayed rest upon a treacherous -foundation of gault clay, expressively known as the “Blue slipper,” -which, saturated with water, has given way so as to cause repeated -landslides and falls of the super-incumbent strata, tumbling the lower -slopes into a broken chaos of terraces and knolls, dotted with boulders -of chalk and sandstone. This ruin of nature has long been overgrown by -rich greenery,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span> mantling its asperities, all the more since the charms -and mildness of the situation go to making it a much trimmed wilderness, -populated with villages and villas that turn the Undercliff into one -great garden of choice and luxuriant vegetation.</p> - -<p>The capital of the Undercliff is Ventnor, whose dependencies and -outposts straggle almost all along this sheltered coast-strip. Now the -most beautifully placed and the most widely admired town in the Island, -it has risen to such note within the memory of men still living. A -century ago Sir H. Englefield gives it a word as “a neat hamlet,” while -guide-books of his day do not even name it between the older villages of -St Lawrence and Bonchurch, that on either side wing its body of terraces -and zigzag streets. Its history seems illustrated in the old “Crab and -Lobster” Inn, from a modest haunt of fishermen developed into a spacious -hotel, and still more plainly in the monuments of so many a young life -close packed about its nineteenth century churches. It was Sir James -Clarke, an esteemed physician of our great-grandfathers’ day, who dubbed -Ventnor an English Madeira, and brought it into medical repute as a -rival of Torquay, both of them disputing the honour of having the -mildest winter climate in England, which probably belongs rather to the -Cornish coast, or to other claimants still wanting a <i>vates sacer</i>, that -is, a London doctor to give them bold advertisement.</p> - -<p>The shift in medical opinion as to the cure of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span> consumption by pure and -dry air, however cold, must have somewhat blown upon Ventnor’s -reputation; and it may in future come to depend upon its amenities as -much as on the soft climate, now that Mentone itself seems rather shy of -its old character as a rendezvous for consumptive germs. It has a summer -as well as a winter season; but there is not much to be said for its -bathing and boating, the shore here being rougher than on the east side, -and exposed to dangerous currents. The beach before the esplanade has -been tamed a little and brought under the yoke of bathing machines. -Further along there are here and there tempting strips of sand; but -swimmers may be cautioned as to launching forth too trustfully. The same -hint applies to boating, this coast being best navigated with the help -of someone who knows its reefs and eddies. Ventnor visitors are more -ready to make jaunts on land than by sea; and in fine weather their -favourite amusement is supplied by the coaches, brakes, and other -vehicles which carry them to all parts of the Island. There are daily -excursions in the season to Freshwater, Cowes, and other remote points; -besides morning and afternoon trips to Blackgang, Shanklin, and such -nearer goals; and the stranger will have much ado to deny the -insinuating recruiters who at every corner of the High Street lie in -wait to enlist him for their crew of pleasure-seekers.</p> - -<p>The strong point of the town is its picturesque site, which, indeed, -implies the defects of its qualities,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span> having been termed “fit for -kangaroos” by some short-winded critic. Nature never meant herself here -to be laid out in streets, and eligible plots of building land have to -be taken as they can be found on the steep slope. This fact, however -favourable to scenic effect, proves a little trying to those feeble folk -who make so large a part of the population. Communication with the -different levels of the town, where the climate varies according to -their degree of elevation and protection, has to be effected by steep -stairs, winding ascents, and devious roads; and often one’s goal seems -provokingly near, while it turns out to be tiresomely far by the only -available access. One thoroughfare is so precipitous that a railing has -been provided for the aid of those risking its descent. The twisting -High Street debouches into a hollow, prettily laid out, about which are -the most sheltered parts of the town. Here stands the pier with its -shelters and pavilion; and a short esplanade curves round the little bay -to a rocky point, from which other zigzags remount to the higher -quarters. There has been a proposal to extend this esplanade along the -Bonchurch side of the shore, where the gasworks certainly do not form a -very pleasant or convenient obstruction; but on the whole it appears -better to leave Ventnor as it is. Its great charm consists of being as -unlike as possible to the general type of seaside resorts; and its -irregular architecture, wilful roads, and provoking impasses are at -least in harmony with each other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span></p> - -<p>Let us see how it strikes a stranger—Mr W. D. Howells, to wit—on a -recent visit.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>The lovely little town, which is like an English water-colour, for -the rich, soft blur of its greys and blues and greens, has a sea at -its feet of an almost Bermudian variety of rainbow tints, and a -milky horizon all its own, with the sails of fishing-boats drowning -in it like moths that had got into the milk. The streets rise in -amphitheatrical terraces from the shore, and where they cease to -have the liveliness of watering-place shops, they have the -domesticity of residential hotels and summer boarding-houses, and -private villas set in depths of myrtle and holly and oleander and -laurel: some of the better-looking houses were thatched, perhaps to -satisfy a sentiment for rusticity in the summer boarder or tenant.</p></div> - -<p>But this appreciative stranger is a little at sea in freely dashing into -his sketch a background of “seats and parks of nobility and gentry,” -which seems somewhat of an American exaggeration for the villaed skirts -of Ventnor. The most lordly “seat” about Ventnor is Steephill Castle, at -the west end, from the tower of which flaunts his own Stars and Stripes -to proclaim it the home of a compatriot who must have reason to chuckle, -as he does in a volume of memoirs, that slow, simple, honest John Bull -now wakes up to let himself be exploited by Transatlantic enterprise. -This gentleman’s daughter was the late popular novelist “John Oliver -Hobbes,” who latterly lived much here, or in the neighbourhood. The -modern castle, that has housed an empress in its time, took the place of -a cottage of gentility built by Hans Stanley, George III.’s Governor of -the Island. It formerly belonged to the Hamborough family, whose heir -met with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span> death in a painful way, that gave rise to what was known -as the Ardlamont murder case.</p> - -<p>The trustees of this family have lately been at loggerheads with the -Ventnor people as to enclosing the links by the shore. Part of the cliff -here, however, has been acquired as a prettily unconventional public -park, laid out with playing greens beneath its leafy mazes and airy -walks. At this end, opposite the west gate of the park, is the station -of the mid-island line, distinguished as “Ventnor Town,” whereas -“Ventnor” station of the older east coast rail stands so high above the -sea that access to it suggests the “stations” of a pilgrimage. The last -time I was in Ventnor, I had the pleasure of being able to assist some -countrywomen of Mr Howell’s whom I found fluttering in breathless doubt -between those two confusing goals, that ought to be joined by some kind -of mountain railway.</p> - -<p>One advantage of having attained the upper station, is that here one is -half-way up the steep bank rising behind Ventnor to be the highest point -of the Island, nearly 800 feet. This down bears the name of St Boniface, -in honour of whom passing ships used to lower their topsails. The ridge -is reached by chalky paths from a road near the station, and from other -approaches at the top of the town; and however stuffy the air may be -below, the perspiring climber will not fail to find invigoration on the -open crest. For goal of the ascent, there is a wishing-well, as to which -old tradition has it that, if you reach<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span> the spot, Orpheus-like, without -casting a backward glance, the wish you may form while drinking of its -welcome spring will speedily be fulfilled. Certainly no finer view could -be wished for than one gains from the summit and along a wide stretch of -rambles on either hand. Holding on round a horse-shoe hollow, one may -turn down on the right to Shanklin; or, in the other direction, crossing -the rail and road to Ryde at Wroxall, pass over to the heights of -Appuldurcombe, where the Worsley monument makes a beacon. Hence another -lofty sweep brings one back to Ventnor by Week Down and Rew Down, used -as a golf ground, which must try the strength of elderly devotees on -their preliminary ascent to the clubhouse, standing out like an Alpine -chapel.</p> - -<p>The stiff-kneed pilgrim who has not heart for such arduosities, may -follow the road along the face of St Boniface Down, or the sea-walk -below, to Bonchurch, that choice and lovely east-end of Ventnor, -clustered round a pond, overhung by a rich bank of foliage. The mildness -of the climate is attested by huge arbutus growths, recalling those of -Killarney, by fuchsias like trees, with trunks as thick as a strong -man’s wrist, and by scarlet geraniums of such exuberance that a single -plant will cover several square yards of wall in front of a house. This -one fact, more than any word-painting, gives an idea of the way in which -Bonchurch, and indeed most parts of Ventnor, are embowered by foliage. -In all sorts of odd nooks, either nestling against the steep wall of the -Undercliff,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span> or hiding away in its leafy hollows, perch the picturesque -cottages and handsome villas that have attracted only too many -neighbours. The road is much shut in between walls of private grounds, -within which are enclosed some of the finest spots, such as the “Pulpit -Rock,” a projecting mass of sandstone marked by a cross, and another -known as the “Flagstaff Rock.”</p> - -<p>Threading our way between these forbidden paradises, the road would take -us up by the new Church with its sadly beautiful graveyard. A lane turns -steeply downwards past the old church, now disused, one of the many -smallest churches in England, that has the further note of being the -sole wholly Norman structure in the Island. Here are buried the Rev. W. -Adams, author of the <i>Shadow of the Cross</i>, and John Sterling, Carlyle’s -friend, who came to die at Hillside, now a boarding-house near the upper -station at Ventnor. Another literary celebrity who lived here was -Elizabeth Sewell, whose <i>Amy Herbert</i> and other edifying novels were so -popular in her own generation; and in one of them, <i>Ursula</i>, she has -described the scenery about her home.</p> - -<p>The old church is said to be now in danger of slipping down towards the -sea. Below it, one descends to Monks’ Bay, traditional landing-place of -the French Benedictines who made themselves once so much at home on the -Island, as their spiritual descendants are doing now. The sea-walk -round<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_11" id="ILL_11"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i127_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i127_sml.jpg" width="301" height="415" alt="Image unavailable: BONCHURCH OLD CHURCH, NEAR VENTNOR" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">BONCHURCH OLD CHURCH, NEAR VENTNOR</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">this bay leads into the Landslip, so called <i>par excellence</i>, as the -rawest and wildest disturbance of the Undercliff, its last fall being -not yet a century old. This wilderness of overgrown knolls and hillocks, -tumbled from the crags above, is not to be equalled on our south coast -unless by the similar chaos near Lyme Regis, whose broken and bosky -charms have been stirred into fresh picturesqueness by slips of more -recent date. Over daisied turf one here takes a twisting path that leads -by banks of bracken and bramble into thickets of gnarled thorn and other -blossoming shade, half-burying green mounds and grey boulders in a -tangle where one would soon lose oneself but for occasional glimpses of -the sea below, or for running upon the wall of a private enclosure -behind, guide for the wanderer in his descent towards Luccombe Chine, -who can also ascend to the cliff-walk for Shanklin. The scene is thus -described by Thomas Webster, a geologist who visited it a century ago, -while the first convulsion was still fresh, before the last slip of 1818 -came to make confusion worse confounded.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>A considerable portion of the cliff had fallen down, strewing the -whole of the ground between it and the sea with its ruins; huge -masses of solid rock started up amidst heaps of smaller fragments; -whilst immense quantities of loose marl, mixed with stones, and -even the soil above with the wheat still growing on it, filled up -the spaces between, and formed hills of rubbish which are scarcely -accessible. Nothing had resisted the force of the falling rocks. -Trees were levelled with the ground, and many lay half buried in -the ruins. The streams were choked up, and pools of water were -formed in many places. Whatever road or path formerly existed -through this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span> place had been effaced; and with some difficulty I -passed over this avalanche, which extended many hundred yards. -Proceeding eastwards, the whole of the soil seemed to have been -moved, and was filled with chasms and bushes lying in every -direction. The intricate and rugged path became gradually less -distinct, and soon divided into mere sheep tracks, leading into an -almost impenetrable thicket. I perceived, however, on my left hand, -the lofty wall of rock which belonged to the same stratum as the -Undercliff, softened in its rugged character by the foliage which -grew in its fissures, and still preserving some remains of its -former picturesque beauty. Neglect, and the unfortunate accident -which had lately happened, had now altered the features of this -once delightful spot; and I was soon bewildered among rocks, -streams of water, tangling thorns, and briars.</p></div> - -<p>The labyrinth between Luccombe and Bonchurch was not the only landslip -in modern times; and though there is believed to be little fear of any -further serious disturbance, occasional falls of rock are a warning how -this gracious ruin of nature might be renewed. <i>The</i> Landslip here<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -makes to my mind the <i>bouquet</i> of the whole Undercliff, whose similar -features, on an ampler scale, of older wrinkles, and usually more veiled -by the work of man, stretch for miles westward along a rugged platform -varying up to half a mile in width. Words but feebly paint the charms of -a miniature Riviera, its broken land-waves foaming into groves, gardens, -and tangles of shrubbery. Between the wall of downs and cliff-buttresses -shutting it in to the north, and the sea dashing at its foot, the -foliage runs as rank as in a giant’s greenhouse, beautifully<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_12" id="ILL_12"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i133_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i133_sml.jpg" width="419" height="311" alt="Image unavailable: THE LANDSLIP NEAR VENTNOR" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE LANDSLIP NEAR VENTNOR</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">displayed by the accidents of the irregularly sloping ground.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Crags, knolls, and mounds confusedly hurl’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fragments of an earlier world.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>This line of cliffs may indeed remind us of the Trossachs, with one side -opened out to the sun and a richer vegetation at its base. Hawthorns, -elders, and other bushes grow here to a huge height, dappling the green -of the woods with their blossoms. Myrtle and other semi-tropical plants -flourish hardily; everywhere there are flowers prodigal as weeds, -notably the red Valerian flourishing on walls and broken edges. Huge -boulders are half hidden in ivy, heaps of old ruins are buried in almost -impassable thickets. It is hard to say when the huge bank of greenery is -most beautiful—whether in spring with all its blossoms and tender buds; -or in summer wearing its full glory of leafage; or again in autumn -brilliant with changing tints and spangled by bright berries: even in -winter there are evergreens enough to make us forget the cold winds -banished from this cosy nook. The one blot on such a paradise seems the -many notices to trespassers, warning that its most tempting nooks are -“private,” or the still more ominous placards of “valuable building land -to let on lease.”</p> - -<p>The Bonchurch Landslip must be traversed on foot. On the other side of -Ventnor, a good road winds up and down beneath the inland heights, from -the edge of which one better sees how many houses<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span> and gardens are -hidden away here in their own greenery. Other aspects are presented from -a path rising and falling along the broken cliffs of the shore. The -road, in fine weather, will be astir with coaches, brakes, and other -wheels making for Blackgang Chine, that renowned goal of excursions from -all over the Island. Beyond Steephill Castle, it leads through St -Lawrence, the western, as Bonchurch is the eastern wing of Ventnor.</p> - -<p>St Lawrence, known to guide-books that used to pass Ventnor Cove without -a word, has another of the smallest churches in England, now replaced by -a new one. The old church, till slightly enlarged by Lord Yarborough, -measured twenty feet by twelve under a roof which must have obliged a -tall knight to doff his helmet. Its saint, like St Boniface, gave his -name to a well now enclosed under a Gothic arch. But the great -institution of the parish, standing in a long terrace by the roadside, -is the Hospital for Consumption, which Ventnor people insist on as being -at St Lawrence, just as Woking pushes off the honour of the Brookwood -Cemetery. There was a time when this model hospital made an -advertisement for Ventnor; now new notions as to germ-infection tend to -scare away more profitable guests than its patients, who might be -expected to fall off under new theories of treatment for consumption, -but the building has had a recent addition in memory of Prince Henry of -Battenberg.</p> - -<p>We are now among mansions and cottages of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span> thick-set gentility, the -nucleus of which was a villa built by Sir R. Worsley, who made the -hardly successful experiment of planting a vineyard here. The oldest -structure seems to be a little ivy-clad ruin at Woolverton on the shore, -as to the character of which antiquaries for once have differed like -doctors, while its antiquity, like that of the old church, offers -hopeful promise for the permanence of modern buildings on these oft-torn -slopes. But we must not stop to speak of every house on this road, nor -of every private pleasance like that known to Swinburne—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shadowed lawns, the shadowing pines, the ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wind and wander through a world of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The radiant orchard where the glad sun’s gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dwells, and makes most of all his happiest hours;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The field that laughs beneath the cliff that towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The splendour of the slumber that enthralls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sunbright peace the world within their walls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are symbols yet of years that love recalls.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>On one hand, ascents like the “Cripple Path” would lead us to fine -prospects from the cliff-brow, while below, we might seek out Puckaster -Cove, or the Buddle Inn near a good stretch of sand, such as is rather -exceptional hereabouts, where fragments of the destruction above are -found trailing out into the sea to form dangerous reefs. One theory -makes Puckaster the Roman tin-shipping port; and it certainly proved a -haven of refuge for Charles II. in a storm, as recorded in a -neighbouring parish-register. Along the broken slope, the high-road -takes us as described by William Black, who has<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span> caught the -characteristic features of so many English scenes.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>There was a great quiet prevailing along these southern shores. -They drove by underneath the tall and crumbling precipices, with -wood-pigeons suddenly shooting out from the clefts, and jackdaws -wheeling about far up in the blue. They passed by sheltered woods, -bestarred with anemones and primroses, and showing here and there -the purple of the as yet half-opened hyacinth; they passed by lush -meadows, all ablaze with the golden yellow of the celandine and the -purple of the ground-ivy; they passed by the broken, picturesque -banks where the tender blue of the speedwell was visible from time -to time, with the white glimmer of the star-wort. And then all this -time they had on their left a gleaming and wind-driven sea, full of -motion, and light, and colour, and showing the hurrying shadows of -the flying clouds.</p></div> - -<p>The goal of Black’s party was the Sandrock Hotel, prettily situated by -the roadside at Undercliff Niton, which has a chalybeate spring, and -near it some local worthy thought desirable to erect a small shrine to -the memory of Shakespeare, anticipating the more pretentious monument by -which he is now to be glorified in London. From this seaside outpost -turns off the way to the inland village of Niton, lying behind in a -break of the chalk heights. It has been distinguished from Knighton by -the sobriquet of Crab Niton, “a distinction which the inhabitants do not -much relish, and therefore it will be impolitic to employ it,” as a -venerable guide-book very prudently suggests; and Knighton being -nowadays little more than a name, strangers will find no inconvenience -in taking that hint. The place boasts at least one sojourner of note, as -we learn from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_13" id="ILL_13"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i141_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i141_sml.jpg" width="427" height="322" alt="Image unavailable: THE UNDERCLIFF NEAR VENTNOR" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE UNDERCLIFF NEAR VENTNOR</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">tomb of Edward Edwards, leader of the Free Public Library movement that -has now so many monuments all over the country.</p> - -<p>The parish of Niton is a large one, containing the head springs of the -Medina and of the eastern Yar, which the well-greaved adventurer might -hence try to track across the Island to their not very distant mouths. -More otiose travellers will find a road passing under St Catherine’s -Down for Newport and the central parts. From the sturdy church tower -with its low spire, a lane leads up to the top of the Down, whence we -could take a wide view of our wanderings, backwards and forwards. And -here, since we are almost at the end of the Undercliff, let us break off -to survey the longer but less famed stretch of this coast, westwards, -under its more comprehensive title.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_BACK_OF_THE_ISLAND" id="THE_BACK_OF_THE_ISLAND"></a>THE BACK OF THE ISLAND</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Our</span> Pisgah for this stage is St Catherine’s Down, once held the highest -point of the Island, but now dethroned, like Ben Macdhui, in favour of -the Ben Nevis of St Boniface. It appears that in Georgian days Week Down -was charged with hiding Shanklin Down from the view of St Catherine’s, -as is no longer the case, the moral being that one or other of these -heights has been raised or depressed, as may well have happened to -superstructures upon so slippery foundation. In such a question of -measurements, at all events, “the self-styled science of the so-called -nineteenth century” with its more elaborate observations, gives a surer -title to eminence. But St Catherine’s is only a few feet lower than the -ridge above Ventnor; and from it, too, a fine prospect may be had, -ranging over the Isle of Wight to the heights of the mainland, and -across the Channel to the French coast in clear weather.</p> - -<p>This broad and steep block of down is well provided with landmarks. On -the inland side a tall pillar was erected by a Russian merchant, in -honour of the Czar Alexander’s visit to England after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span> fall of -Napoleon; which monument a later generation very inappropriately adorned -with a memorial of our soldiers fallen in the Crimean War. On the top -are the restored remains of a chapel, where in old days a hermit-priest -made himself truly useful by keeping a light burning to warn mariners -off this stormy coast, and chanting prayers for their safety. A less -pious legend attributes the building of the old beacon here to a layman -amerced in such a penalty for having stored his cellars with wine sold -him by shipwrecked sailors, a class not very scrupulous as to owner’s -rights—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full many a draught of wine had he y-draw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of nicé conscience took he no keep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Hard by is a later ruin to show how a lighthouse was designed in the -eighteenth century, but a practical age gave up the attempt to rear a -pharos on this cloudy height. Experience since then has gone to show -that a lighthouse serves its end better at the water’s edge than on -commanding cliffs like Beachy Head and Portland Point, from both of -which the old beacons have lately been moved to a lower level.</p> - -<p>St Catherine’s Lighthouse stands on the point of that ilk, the most -southerly projection of the Island, where it has Lloyd’s signal station -for neighbour. Its recently intensified electric light is said to be the -most powerful in the world, every few seconds flashing over the sea a -beam of concentrated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span> glare equal to millions of candles. It is also -equipped with a fog-horn, whose hoarse note of warning resounds for -miles, not altogether to the satisfaction of neighbours safe on land. -Yet they may take comfort to think how this screech is more fearsomely -disquieting when heard at sea. I once had such a note ringing in my ears -for two days together running through a chill fog off Newfoundland, with -icebergs about us that could be felt but not seen. Our boat was one of -the few that have crushed into an iceberg and crawled to land with the -tale; then to keep us cheerful we had on board a survivor of that -adventure, the perils whereof it pleased him to depict as looming -through a somewhat befogged imagination.</p> - -<p>Another of our fellow-passengers was an American gentleman, who in -Europe had been qualifying himself to come out as an opera tenor. He was -coy of giving us a specimen of his talent, till one night we persuaded -him to begin <i>Ah, che la morte!</i> But at once the officer of the watch -stepped up to silence him, explaining that his singing might drown the -sound of fog-horns. The vocalist was much offended at his organ being -coupled with a fog-horn; and I fear I gave him fresh offence by -suggesting “Signor Fogorno” as a suitable <i>nom de guerre</i>, when he -consulted me as to Italianising his rather commonplace patronymic. But -that careful officer was right, if the story be true that a German liner -ran ashore on the back of the Island because her own brass band deafened -her to the warning note that surely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span> should have drowned all sweeter -sounds. And if our insulted tenor had known it, this artificial organ -has a very old theatrical connection, for <i>persona</i> seems the earliest -form of such a sounding contrivance, originally a megaphonic mouthpiece -fitted to a mask which, as one of the classical stage properties, came -to denote the personage thus represented; and in time the name gained -respectability as the person or parson of a parish, who more or less -loudly warned his convoy of souls from the rocks and shoals of -ill-doing.</p> - -<p>A different kind of signal would be keenly watched for in days when the -storm of Napoleon’s invasion was expected to burst upon our shores; and -on all prominent points beacons were kept ready to spread the alarm of -the enemy’s approach. The Isle of Wight was fully on the alert, -remembering how often it had been a vulnerable point in mail-clad wars -with France, though one would think that the bugbear, Boney, knew his -business too well to seek a difficult landing in an island, beyond which -he would be brought up by a dangerous channel, a strong arsenal, and a -naval rendezvous. It is said that the signalman at St Catherine’s, -probably having drunk the king’s health too freely in smuggled spirits, -mistook some fishing-boats for a French fleet, and lighted his beacon to -set men mustering in arms and women and children flying for refuge to -Newport. Sir Walter Scott tells us how the same sort of blunder stirred -a great part<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span> of Scotland. But on one side of the Island the scare did -not spread far, since the watcher at Freshwater very sensibly reasoned -that the wind then blowing would keep this coast clear of hostile ships, -and forbore to pass on the alarm.</p> - -<p>Before the building of St Catherine’s lighthouse in 1840, shipwrecks -were terribly common on the Island. A famous one was that of the -<i>Clarendon</i> West India-man, in 1836. Fourteen vessels in one night are -said to have gone ashore on Chale Bay. This is no coast for amateur -mariners. One is warned also against bathing as dangerous hereabouts, -yet I, unconscious, have swum below Blackgang in my hot youth; while in -cooler age I echo the caution. The hero of <i>Maud</i>, whose haunts we are -now approaching, would sometimes have been all the better and wiser for -a morning dip to cool his fevered brow; but he was not so much out of -conceit with life as to venture a bathe—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Listening now to the tide in its broad-flung, shipwrecking roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now to the scream of a maddened beach dragged down by the wave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">—a sound which, Tennyson states, can sometimes be heard nine miles -inland.</p> - -<p>Chale Bay, in which is Blackgang Chine, opens on the west side of St -Catherine’s Point, where, at Rocken End, the Undercliff seems tumbling -into the sea in a chaos of blocks of chalk and sandstone stormed upon by -the waves with freshly ruinous fury. Above, on the side of St -Catherine’s Down, the scenery alters from nests of Riviera greenery to -bare<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_14" id="ILL_14"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i151_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i151_sml.jpg" width="416" height="308" alt="Image unavailable: BLACKGANG CHINE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">BLACKGANG CHINE</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">slopes broken by huge boulders and scars, that expose the geological -structure of the Downs to a spectacled eye. Here a slip of 100 acres -happened at the end of the eighteenth century; and the masterful -south-west blasts keep the ruin still somewhat raw, not skinned over as -in more sheltered nooks. The road, passing out of shade, makes a -Switzerlandish turn under the cliffs, as it descends to Blackgang Chine, -the final goal of lion-hunters on this route.</p> - -<p>Entrance to the so much sought sight is through a sort of museum or -bazaar, where one must either buy something or frankly pay sixpence. -This reminds me of a visit to Pompeii more than forty years -ago—<i>eheu!</i>—when the soldier who conducted me seemed strangely -officious in repeatedly declaring that he was not entitled to any tip; -but, he added, “I have some photographs to sell.” There are those who -hint darkly at illicit entrances by which the unprincipled or -impecunious can smuggle themselves into Blackgang Chine without paying -or buying anything; but considerate visitors will not grudge a toll for -use of the walks and steps that open up the recesses of this great -chasm, through which echoes the boom of waves breaking on the beach -below. It differs from the Shanklin Chine in being not overgrown with -greenery, but showing through its nakedness the various <i>viscera</i> of -greenish-grey sand and dark ferruginous clay that charm the geologist. -Description may not prove “up-to-date,” as the weather-worn sides -crumble away from year to year;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span> yet Sir Henry Englefield’s account is -still to be quoted after more than a century.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>No vegetation clothes any part of this rude hollow, whose flanks -are in a state of continual decay. They are mostly composed of very -dark blue clay, through which at intervals run horizontal strata of -bright yellow sandstone, about 12 or 15 feet thick, which naturally -divide into square blocks, and have exactly the appearance of vast -courses of masonry built at different heights to sustain the -mouldering hill. What has been hitherto described may be called the -upper part of the chine, for on descending to the seashore we find -that the stratum of ironstone already mentioned, forms a cornice -from whose edge the rill falls perpendicularly 74 feet. As the -substratum is of a softer material than the ironstone, being a -black indurated clay, the action of the fall has worn it into a -hollow, shining with a dusky polish from damp, and stained with the -deep greens of aquatic lichens, or the ferruginous tinge of -chalybeate exudations. The silver thread of water which falls -through the air in the front of this singular cove is, when the -wind blows fresh, twisted into most fantastic and waving curves; -and not seldom caught by the eddy and carried up unbroken to a -height greater than that from whence it fell, and at last -dissipated into mist. When a south-west wind creates a heavy swell -on the shore, the echo of the sound of the waves in this gloomy -recess is truly astonishing, and has exactly the effect of a deep -subterraneous roar issuing from the bottom of the cave. When sudden -heavy rains or the melting of snows increase the quantity of water -in the fall, the scenery of this spot must be more striking than -most in England.</p></div> - -<p>Half a mile behind Blackgang Chine lies the village of Chale, whose grey -church tower stands among the grass-grown graves of many a drowned -mariner, that seem an imitation in miniature of the half-buried rocks -and mounds of the Undercliff. Chale is a resort on its small scale, with -some good old houses and fine scenes to attract visitors, not to speak -of a chalybeate well on the strength of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span> the place once aspired to -become a spa; and Dr Dabbs’ opinion is emphatic that its bracing air -deserves a success Chale has not yet commanded in rivalry to Shanklin or -Ventnor. Its patients may at least make sure of having their fill of the -south-west wind, that gives such a leeward lurch to hardier trees now -that they are out of shelter in the Undercliff’s sun-trap.</p> - -<p>Westward, the shore has openings known as Walpen Chine, Ladder Chine, -and Whale Chine, which are as notable as Blackgang in their way, but not -so famous; and several others yawn more obscurely on the coast line to -Freshwater. Some couple of miles beyond Chale, a name of grim notoriety -is Atherfield Point, where many vessels have been lost on its dangerous -ledge, like the German Lloyd <i>Eider</i>, in 1892, that grounded in a fog, -all hands being saved, and the steamer remaining stuck fast for weeks, -so as to give this neighbourhood the excitement without the horror of a -great shipwreck. In bad old days the people of Chale had an evil name as -wreckers, luring poor seamen to destruction by deceptive lights, and not -sticking at murder as a prelude to robbery, since the law held the death -of the survivors to extinguish their title in what goods might be -salved.</p> - -<p>From Chale, the seaboard opens out for a stretch of some ten miles along -the Back of the Island, a part not so well known to strangers, unless as -hurrying by on their way to Freshwater. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span> path along the rough -shore edge is full of points of interest, especially to the geologist, -who, from exposures of the green-sand formation passes on to mottled -earthy cliffs of the Wealden age, then again finds sand pressed down by -masses of chalk. Behind, runs a silent military road made to link the -Island defences, which is not altogether passable for wheels; indeed the -Freshwater end of it has tumbled into the sea. The usual driving-road -turns inland to pass through the villages below the Downs, which now -draw back a mile or two from the beach. Let us, then, follow Edmund -Peel, the poet of this <i>Fair Isle</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Back from the brink and rest the stagger’d eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the green mound, whose western slope reveals<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A landscape tranquil as the deep blue sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hill and dale a rich variety,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down over down, vale winding into vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where peaceful villages imbosom’d lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And halls manorial, from green-swarded Chale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Brixton’s fruitful glebe and Brooke’s delicious dale.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Behind Chale, by the outlying Chale Green near the head of the Medina, -is reached the tiny village of Kingston with its tiny and picturesquely -perched Church, some half-dozen miles south of Newport. The road to -Freshwater turns west, soon reaching Shorwell, in its setting of -unusually rich woods, from which rises the spire of the Church, notable -for very curious and striking features, as for its show of Leigh -monuments, a once obliterated wall-painting, and other relics. Its -vestry preserves the Gun Chamber,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_15" id="ILL_15"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i159_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i159_sml.jpg" width="420" height="310" alt="Image unavailable: SHORWELL" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">SHORWELL</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">in which several of these Island churches once kept a cannon for defence -of the coast. This village is said to have won Queen Victoria’s special -admiration, as well it might.</p> - -<p>Two miles on, comes another pretty place, Brixton <i>alias</i> Brighstone, -very unlike its metropolitan namesake, with a goodly Church that counts -among former parsons Bishops Ken, Samuel Wilberforce, and Moberley. In -the beautiful garden of the parsonage, Ken is said to have composed his -far-sung Morning and Evening Hymns; and a tree is shown here under which -Wilberforce wrote his <i>Agathos</i>. Hence one can descend to the shore by -Grange Chine, which the military road crosses by a lofty viaduct; or -over the Downs goes the road to Calbourne, the nearest station on the -Freshwater line.</p> - -<p>The next village on the road is Mottistone, from whose too much restored -Church, a steep, shady lane leads up to the Mote Stone, or Long Stone, a -block of ferruginous sandstone 13 feet high, with a smaller one fallen -beside it, seeming to have both made part of an ancient cromlech; but -this is said to have served as a mote or public meeting-place, while a -natural legend sees here the stones of a diabolic and angelic -putting-match on St Catherine’s Down. These high downs were a favourite -prehistoric burying place; and several barrows hereabouts have been -excavated by a generation whose <i>tumuli</i> have shrunk to the tees of -golf. The Tudor manor-house, beside Mottistone Church, is one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span> -best of the picturesque old structures of that period, which in this -corner of the Island have not been so much shouldered off by -spick-and-span villas.</p> - -<p>Leaving the road, beyond the hamlet of Hulverston one can pass down to -the shore by Brook, which has a chine to show, and a fossil forest on -the west side of Brook Point, explained by the geologist Mantell as -having “originated in a raft composed of a prostrate pine-forest, -transported from a distance by the river which flowed through the -country whence the Wealden deposits were derived, and became submerged -in the sand and mud of the delta, burying with it the bones of reptiles, -mussel-shells, and other extraneous bodies it had gathered in its -course.... Many of the stems are concealed and protected by the fuci, -corallines, and zoophytes which here thrive luxuriantly, and occupy the -place of the lichens and other parasitical plants with which the now -petrified trees were doubtlessly invested when flourishing in their -native forests, and affording shelter to the Iguanodon and other -gigantic reptiles.” The beach yields pretty pebbles; and huge fossils -have been found in the cliffs hereabouts.</p> - -<p>Hence the military road skirts Compton Bay, upon which the Downs close -in again with a steep slope of chalk that makes no safe play-place for -children, especially when the turf is slippery after long drought, a -caution enforced by the monument to a poor boy who fell here sixty years -ago. Beyond<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span> Afton Down, at the west end of Compton Bay, the little -esplanade of Freshwater marks a new division of the Island, which, -indeed, but for this much strained isthmus, would have made two -islands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FRESHWATER_AND_THE_NEEDLES" id="FRESHWATER_AND_THE_NEEDLES"></a>FRESHWATER AND THE NEEDLES</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">At</span> the south-western corner of the Island comes a cleft in the Central -Downs, through which the little Yar flows across the narrowed end from -Freshwater Gate, or Gap, whose name seems to denote the peculiar fact of -a river having its source by the seashore, so near that in rough weather -salt water is said to be washed into the stream. Through that hollow the -spray of the waves can from north and south meet across the three miles -of land; and unless something be done to protect such a weak spot, it -appears that before long this promontory may be cut off from the Island, -as itself was from the mainland by rushing Solent tides. The War Office, -as one of the chief occupiers, is understood to have been more than -indifferent about the sea getting its way in making the nest of forts -here a miniature of the whole kingdom—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fortress, built by nature for herself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against infection or the hand of war.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>In Charles I’s. reign it was indeed proposed to insulate this corner -artificially as a citadel of defence. Private owners and tenants, for -their part, are<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span> inclined to plans for forming some kind of breakwater, -where the tiny esplanade of Freshwater is battered by every gale. Local -authorities have been calling on the Hercules aid of a Royal Commission; -and as a beginning of defence, the Board of Trade has forbidden -Freshwater Bay being used by reckless neighbours for a quarry of -shingle.</p> - -<p>Into the nook beyond, crossed each way in an hour’s walk, is packed some -of the finest scenery of the Island—the finest of all, some will say, -who find the rich charms of the Undercliff more cloying. On the south -side the Downs raise their steep wall of chalk to drop into the sea at -the Needles point, round which the inner coast shows a more varied line -of cliff. Between lies a huddle of very pleasant rurality, bowery lanes, -hedgerow paths, thatched cottages, and thick-set hamlets, that in the -very breath of the sea recall the most characteristic aspects of the -green heart of England. Even the new Church has a thatched roof. But -this corner, while more out of the way and the taste of trippers, is a -good deal given up to Mars, whose temples here are forts and -public-houses. Also it is swept by a bombardment of golf balls, which -has caused punsters to suggest that this end of the Island as well as -the eastern deserves the name of <i>Fore</i>land.</p> - -<p>Freshwater itself is a modestly diffused village, which copies modern -military tactics in taking very open order against the assaults of time. -The main body of the place stands loosely ranked some way<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span> back from the -shore, to which it throws out an advanced work held against wind and -waves by hotels and a picket of bathing-machines; then a chain of -rearward outposts connects it with the railway station a mile or so -inland. Here the rebuilt Church, with its trappings of antiquity, makes -a rallying point for hamlets in the rear, bearing such by-names as -School Green, Pound Green, Sheepwash Green and Norton, beyond which the -forts on the north side, among their bivouacs of camp followers, are -mixed up with lines of new building, in summer garrisoned by -holiday-makers on the bathing beaches of Totland Bay and Colwell Bay.</p> - -<p>The road from the station to the esplanade passes by a mansion hidden in -“a carelessly ordered garden” among thick trees, “close to the ridge of -a noble down,” where</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Groves of pine on either hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To break the blast of winter, stand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And further on, the hoary Channel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tumbles a breaker on chalk and sand.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">The house is more closely sheltered by fine growths like the -Wellingtonia planted by Garibaldi, the great cedar, “sighing for -Lebanon,” and the grand ilex, also made evergreen by one who was a -“lover of trees.” For this is Farringford, famous as the home of -Tennyson for more than half his life, and the sojourn of so many -contemporary celebrities, guests at his house or at his neighbour Mr -Cameron’s, a retired Indian official, whose wife became so notable<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_16" id="ILL_16"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i169_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i169_sml.jpg" width="420" height="314" alt="Image unavailable: FARRINGFORD HOUSE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">FARRINGFORD HOUSE</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">by her influence over “Alfred,” by her unconventionally generous -impulses, and by her skill in the then young art of photography. Later -on the Camerons disappear from their renowned friend’s story, going to -die in Ceylon; but all along flit across the page names of renown in -both continents, Maurice, Jowett, Sir Henry Taylor, G. F. Watts, -Browning, Longfellow, Lowell, O. W. Holmes, and others drawn by the same -magnet to this shore.</p> - -<p>The mellifluous poet, so dear to his intimates, failed to make himself -universally popular in the Island, whose inhabitants were not all able -to appreciate him. There is the amusing case of a fly-driver who could -not understand the squire of Farringford’s greatness. “Why, they only -keep one man, and he doesn’t sleep in the house!” But that some -residents could value their illustrious neighbour is shown by another -story of a visitor arriving when the house was in a confusion of -unpacking, and being kept waiting in the hall till he was recognised as -the Prince Consort.</p> - -<p>It is pretty well understood that he who figures too much as an -alabaster saint in his official biography, had an earthier side to his -nature. His gloomy moods and sensitive shyness sometimes broke out in -fits of ill-humour, such as caused Mrs Cameron to remonstrate with him -on behalf of a friend of hers found trespassing on his domain, who had -come expecting to “see a lion, not a bear.” While he shrank in almost -morbid horror from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span> peeping pilgrims, he pointed himself out to their -gaze by a picturesque “get up,” as to which one of his favoured -grandchildren is said to have bluntly asked him, “If you don’t like -people to look at you, why do you wear that queer hat and cloak?” I have -a story to tell which has not yet, I think, been in print, but was -vouched for by one of those concerned. As the Poet-laureate, with his -friends Palgrave and Woolner, the sculptor, were walking through a -village, irreverent urchins, having no fear of he-or she-bears, ran -after them with the cry “Old Jew!”—“Poor Palgrave’s nose!” Tennyson -whispered to Woolner, while Palgrave, for his part, presently took the -opportunity of an aside to their companion, “That’s what Tennyson gets -by dressing himself up in such a way!”</p> - -<p>Another story of Tennyson’s manners reached me in two pieces, at a long -interval, each dovetailing into each other. I knew a kind and gentle -lady who venerated all genius, and especially his who was the flower of -Victorian literature. Many years ago she told me, how being invited to -see the University boat-race from George Macdonald’s house at -Hammersmith, she found herself beside an unknown gentleman of her own -mature age, to whom she remarked that it would be well if a window could -be opened. He turned his back on her without a word and walked out of -the room, which he would not enter again. To her dismay, my friend heard -that this was the Poet-laureate, who did not like to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span> spoken to. She -went to her grave hardly able to forgive herself for having unwittingly -hurt such a man. Many years afterwards, on his coming to be buried at -Westminster, another friend told me how in her girlhood, she was at -George Macdonald’s boat-race party, when Tennyson was so offended at -being spoken to by an old lady, that he shut himself up in a separate -room, to which she was sent with some food for him, in the hope that a -mere child might be a David to the mood of Saul; and that he spoke very -crossly to her because she had forgotten to bring the mustard.</p> - -<p>Why tell such tales? it may be asked by those who remember how Tennyson -looked forward with horror to his weaknesses being exposed to the public -eye. Because a great man’s life cannot be kept private; and no picture -of him is of value with all the warts painted out. Those who knew the -poet agree that he had rough ways and some coarse tastes singularly in -contrast with the “saccharinity ineffable” which certain tart critics of -another generation distaste in his verse. Those who knew him best are -most emphatic as to the essential nobility of character that for them -veiled all short-comings. The main interest of his life, as a human -document, is that a man who had such faults should by force of genius -have been able to transmute them into lessons of purity, courtesy, and -charity, that will shine all the brighter as rays of a soul not -“faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span> And there will be -an end to all fruitful biography, if the “good taste” so much admired by -this generation is to overlay truth. Who would read the memoirs of a -former age if they represented Samuel Johnson as a model of polite -elegance, Goldsmith of practical common sense, and Wilkes of untarnished -public spirit. So, without wanting in honest admiration for the greatest -poet of my time, I protest against the conspiracy of silence by which he -has been raised to a House of Lords among the immortals, his old cloak -and hat forgotten in ermine and coronet, and his strong tobacco and -full-bodied port glorified as nectar and ambrosia.</p> - -<p>But if there were some to find the poet no more than a man, and others -to regret that he let his world-wide fame be obfuscated in such a title -as is sold to a prosperous brewer or money-broker, all tongues are at -one in praise of the gentle lady still remembered as a devoted wife, as -a friendly neighbour, and as an open-handed mistress of the manor. To -William Allingham, Tennyson reported the character given of them by an -ex-servant: “She is an angel—but he, why he’s only a public writer!” -Many a tear was shed when, after long suffering, Lady Tennyson came to -rest in the churchyard of Freshwater, her husband lying apart among our -renowned dead. Within the Church are memorials of their second son -Lionel, whose promising career was cut short by fever in the far East, -and he found a hasty grave on a sun-blighted island of the Red Sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span></p> - -<p>The bard whose “lucky rhymes to him were scrip and share” indeed, while -more than one of his publishers dropped off “flaccid and drained,” was -able later on to build himself a retreat on the Sussex wilds of -Blackdown, in a sense even further “from noise and smoke of town.” But -he still spent part of the year at Farringford; and much of his poetry -is coloured by the Isle of Wight scenery, notably <i>Maud</i>, that “pet -bantling” of his to which early critics were so unkind. Enoch Arden, -too, might be thought to have hailed from this shore, but that hazel -nuts do not flourish in the Island, unless in the half fossilized form -of “Noah’s nuts” found in Compton Chine; also, on critical -consideration, there appears no long street climbing out of Freshwater, -whose “mouldered church,” moreover, has been quite masked by -rebuilding—but these are poetical properties readily inserted into any -picture, such as one that could be taken from a hundred villages on our -coast—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In cluster; then a moulder’d church, and higher,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A long street climbs to one tall-tower’d mill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And high in heaven behind it a grey down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Danish barrows; and a hazelwood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green in a cup-like hollow of the down.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Often from these downs, the poet must have watched—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Below the milky steep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some ship of battle slowly creep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on through zones of light and shadow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glimmer away to the lonely deep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">From his own window, he could catch—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The voice of the long sea-wave as it swelled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now and then in the dim-gray dawn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">And often his steps were turned to that finest scene within an hour’s -stroll—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The broad white brow of the Isle—that bay with the coloured sand—Rich<br /></span> -<span class="i0">was the rose of sunset there, as we drew to the land.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">On such points of vantage, he was inspired with loyalty and patriotism -very different from the feelings of his predecessor in the laureateship, -who “uttered nothing base,” but who was certainly disposed to frown, -when, from the Island cliffs, he saw a British fleet sailing forth -against the soon clouded dawn of liberty in France.</p> - -<p>Tennyson naturally had a dread of new building about Freshwater; and -some other landowners here seem to share the same exclusive spirit, -which may account for the neighbourhood not being more “developed” as a -resort, while its warmest admirers lament how much it has grown since -the Laureate settled here. It has no want of attractions, not always -accessible on the steep face of chalk, scarred and pitted by works of -time like Freshwater Arch and Freshwater Cave near the little bay, -beyond which come honeycombings known by such names as “Neptune’s Caves” -and “Bar Cave”—“Frenchman’s Hole,” from an escaped prisoner said to -have starved here—Lord Holmes’ “Parlour,” “Kitchen,” and “Cellar,” -where that governor was in the way<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_17" id="ILL_17"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i179_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i179_sml.jpg" width="425" height="308" alt="Image unavailable: FRESHWATER BAY" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">FRESHWATER BAY</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">of entertaining his friends—“Roe’s Hall”—“Preston’s Bower”—the “Wedge -Rock,” a triangular mass wedged in between the cliff and an isolated -pyramid some 50 feet high—the “Arched Cavern” in Scratchell’s Bay, and -the “Needles Cave,” into which small boats can peep before rounding the -jagged corner. It is said that Professor Tyndall used to keep himself in -climbing practice by scrambling on these treacherous rocks; and if this -be true, I so far question the wisdom of that pundit. The harrying of -airy nests makes a better excuse for such riskful gymnastics. The -fissured cliff line is tenanted by sea-fowl, which the report of a gun -brings out in screaming and hovering crowds, conspicuous among them the -black and white cormorants nicknamed “Isle of Wight parsons.”</p> - -<p>These sights are to be visited by boat, if a stranger have stomach for -the adventure. On foot one can mount the back of the cliff known at -first as the Nodes, then as the Mainbench, or in general as the High -Downs. At the highest point of the Nodes, nearly 500 feet, the old -beacon has been replaced by an Iona Cross in memory of Tennyson, with -whom this was a favourite walk in the wildest weather. A grand walk it -is upon a crest of greensward so smooth that bicycles find a track here -among the flying golf balls. In dry weather this smooth turf is -slippery, as one might find too late on its treacherous edges. Further -on, the straight way is barred by a fort, where, between Scratchell’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span> -Bay and Alum Bay, the ridge narrows and drops to the spur pointed by -those insular masses known as the “Needles,” that, seen at a hazy -distance, rise out of the sea like three castles.</p> - -<p>The name of this famous point has been connected with the German <i>Nieder -Fels</i>; but there seems no need of going further than a homely simile -that would come to mind and mouth of sailors who, in another language, -have threaded the same suggestion on the southernmost rocks of Africa. -Of the three sharp-backed islets that stand out here braving the winds -and waves, the innermost is known to have risen 120 feet higher in a -tall pillar called “Lot’s Wife,” which fell in 1784. Since Turner -painted them, unless they loomed for him through a haze of imagination, -the Needles have dwindled in size. Naturally of course they are worn -away by every gale, like their kinsmen “Old Harry and his Wife” on the -Dorset coast, one of which isolated masses has been washed down to a -stump within the last few years, the same end as threatens the “Parson -and Clerk” off the red sandstone cliffs of Devon; and in the far north -the more robustly gigantic “Old Man of Hoy” has now but one leg to stand -on.</p> - -<p>Bitten at as they are by old <i>Edax Rerum</i>, the Needles have still a bulk -which, dwarfed against the cliffs behind, might not be guessed till -one’s eyes are fixed upon the lighthouse on the outermost rock, or upon -human figures displayed against them, to give their due proportion. -Thomas Webster, the geologist,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span> saw them about a century ago under most -picturesque conditions, when the fifty-gun frigate <i>Pomone</i> had stuck -fast upon the outer edge, and lay captive there, to be broken up by the -next gale, the waves already spouting through her ports and hatchways, -while all around swarmed a fleet of smaller vessels engaged in salving -the wreck, or bringing idle spectators to such a singular scene: he was -surprised to find the frigate’s hull overtopped by more than -three-fourths of the rock.</p> - -<p>On the north side of the Needles opens Alum Bay, where German visitors -will not fail to exclaim <i>Wunderschön!</i> and Americans to admire the -works of nature as “elegant!” This famous geological transformation -scene is formed by the Eocene strata turning up beside the chalk, as at -the east end of the Island, but here with more striking effect, so as to -be a spectacle for the most unlearned eye as well as a lesson of -extraordinary value for those who can read it, through the manner in -which the beds have been heaved, contorted and thrown into a vertical -position of display. The chalk on one side with its tender tints is -faced on the other by variegated bands of clay, marl, and sand, the hues -of which, after heavy rain especially, are vivid far beyond our common -experience of the “brown old earth,” in some lights presenting the -rainbow of colour described by Englefield, to be so often quoted: “deep -purplish-red, dusky blue, bright ochreous-yellow, grey approaching -nearly to white, and absolute black, succeed each<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span> other, as sharply -defined as the stripes in silk; and after rain the sun, which, from -about noon till his setting in summer, illuminates them more and more, -gives a brilliancy to some of these nearly as resplendent as the high -lights on real silk.”</p> - -<p>His geological ally Webster renders an almost as high-coloured account -in more matter-of-fact style. The Alum Bay cliffs, he says,</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>... consist, generally, of a vast number of alternations of layers -of very pure clay, and pure sand, with ferruginous sand and shale. -Of these beds some are several feet, whilst others are not an -eighth of an inch in thickness. Next to the chalk, is a vertical -bed of chalk marl; then one of clay of a deep red colour, or -sometimes mottled red and white. This is succeeded by a very thick -bed of dark blue clay with green earth, containing nodules of marl -or argillaceous limestone with fossil shells. Then follows a vast -succession of alternating beds of sand of various colours, white, -bright yellow, green, red and grey; plastic clay, white, black, -grey and red; ferruginous sandstone and shale, together with -several beds of a species of coal, or lignite, the vegetable origin -of which is evident. The number and variety of these vertical -layers is quite endless, and I can compare them to nothing better -than the stripes on the leaves of a tulip. On cutting down pieces -of the cliffs, it is astonishing to see the extreme brightness of -the colours, and the delicacy and thinness of the several layers of -white and red sand, shale and white sand, yellow clay and white or -red sand, and indeed almost every imaginable combination of these -materials. These cliffs, although so highly coloured that they -could scarcely come within the limits of picturesque beauty, were -not, however, without their share of harmony. The tints suited each -other admirably; and their whole appearance, though almost beyond -the reach of art to imitate, was extremely pleasing to the eye. -Their forms, divested of colour, when viewed near, and from the -beach, were often of the most sublime class; resembling the -weather-worn peaks of Alpine heights. This circumstance they derive -from the same source as those primitive mountains; for the strata -being vertical, the rains and snow water enter between them, and -wear deep channels, leaving the more solid parts sharp and pointed.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span></p> - -<p>The alum that gives the name to this bay, oozing from its motley face, -seems no longer of commercial account; but the pure white sand is used -in glass-making, and the coloured sands are arranged in fantastic -patterns to make curiosities or memorials for the excursionists who -flock to this spot by coach, by steamer from Bournemouth and other -seaside towns, or by an hour’s walk from Freshwater station. For their -entertainment, there are two hostelries and some humbler refreshment -rooms; but as yet Alum Bay has not been turned into a bathing-place, -though round its northern corner rises one of the favourite summer -resorts of the Island.</p> - -<p>Another contrast appears from the hollow behind the bay. The chalk downs -on one side are smooth, as if shaved by their own razor-like edges; on -the other, Headon Hill swells up in moorland knolls and banks of -heather, its rough sides clothed with tufts of yellow flowerets and -ragged grass. Headon Warren is a fitting <i>alias</i>. From its blunt head, -some 400 feet, we look down upon the lower and darker cliffs of the -inner coast, studded with brick forts that would be an ugly sight to an -enemy seeking to force the passage of the Solent.</p> - -<p>We have done now with wonders, but the north-western face of the Island -makes a pleasant shore line, on which, in a mile or so, is reached the -snug beach of Totland Bay, the chief bathing-place of this end, all new -and smart, its big hotel standing out over the pier, like colonel of a -regiment of lodging-houses and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span> villas. Round the next corner comes -Colwell Bay, another stretch of sand on which a younger resort is -growing up beside crumbling cliffs and tiny chines. At the further horn -stands Albert Fort, nicknamed the “brick three-decker,” commanding the -narrowest part of the Solent, where a long narrow spit from the mainland -throws Hurst Castle more than half-way across the three-knot channel, -hardly needed as a stepping-stone by any giant who might care to hop -over. The next corner, bearing up the Victoria Fort, brings us round to -the estuary of the Yar, a stream that shows more estuary than river, -opening out with as much complacency as if it drained a basin of ten -times three miles. The mouth of this shallow gulf, towards the sea -pleasantly masked in woods, is crossed by a causeway leading into -Yarmouth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_18" id="ILL_18"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i189_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i189_sml.jpg" width="439" height="312" alt="Image unavailable: TOTLAND BAY" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">TOTLAND BAY</span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="YARMOUTH" id="YARMOUTH"></a>YARMOUTH</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Among</span> its other misfortunes this little Yarmouth has had that of being -over-crowed by the bloated renown of Great Yarmouth, which trumpets -forth many high notes of interest, from its cathedral-like church and -its ancient “Rows,” to its herring fleet and its Cockney paradises. The -author of <i>David Copperfield</i> himself might not find much to say about -the Isle of Wight Yarmouth, which yet, by its past dignity, seems to -demand a chapter, where it must play at least the part of text like that -blessed word Mesopotamia. If we writers might never fill a few pages -without having anything particular to say, what would become of the -circulating libraries? So let us see what may be said under the head of -Yarmouth, taken with a stretch of country beyond which deserves to be -better known than it is to the Island visitors.</p> - -<p>This little town or big village is best known to strangers by the pier -of the shortest crossing from Lymington, not indeed the most convenient -one, as there is a gap between the landing and the station, and trains -of the Freshwater line seem to run in no close connection with the -steamers, or make only a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span> mocking show of connection that adds insult to -injury. So one may find oneself stranded here for an hour or two, unless -he can go straight on by coach to Freshwater Bay or to Totland Bay, to -which also some of the steamers run in the season. But weak-stomached -voyagers hail the half-hour’s passage as being mostly in the winding mud -flats of the Lymington River, with an open prospect towards the Needles, -and the low walls of Hurst Castle at the point of its long spit. -Hereabouts is the proposed line of a Solent Tunnel which as yet remains -in the air, but as <i>fait accompli</i> might lift poor Yarmouth’s head, or -Totland Bay’s, to the height of proud Ryde.</p> - -<p>Simple as it stands now, Yarmouth is one of the Island’s three ancient -boroughs, old enough to have been more than once burned by French -excursionists in the bad old days, and a place of comparatively more -importance a century ago, when fleets of sails might be wind-bound here -for weeks. As bulwark against French and other attacks, a castle was -built at the mouth of the Yar, whose remains are now enclosed in the -grounds of the Pier Hotel, itself still recalling its state when it was -the mansion of Sir Robert Holmes, and entertained Charles II. Else, -Yarmouth has not much to boast in the way of architecture, unless some -quaint old houses, refreshing after the modernity of Totland Bay. The -Church, dating from James I., shows a collection of Holmes’ monuments, -chief among them a fine statue of Sir Robert Holmes, which had a curious -history: it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_19" id="ILL_19"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i195_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i195_sml.jpg" width="437" height="269" alt="Image unavailable: YARMOUTH" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">YARMOUTH</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">said to have been meant for Louis XIV., but being captured at sea along -with the sculptor, he was forced to fit it with a head of Sir Robert. -This local worthy, Governor of the Island under Charles II., and a -benefactor to the town by embanking its marshy estuary, had a wider -renown as one of our early Nelsons; he is repeatedly mentioned in Pepys’ -<i>Diary</i>, and his epitaph tells in sounding Latin how, among other -exploits, he more than once beat the Dutch, not always beaten at sea by -Charles’ sailors, how he took from them the colony of <i>Nova Belgia</i>, now -better known as New York, and how he captured a cargo of Guinea gold -that was coined into a word of much credit in our language.</p> - -<p>The Island boasts at least one other sailor as having earned a place in -our story. There was a poor tailor’s apprentice of Bonchurch who, -according to the legend, ran away to the king’s navy, proved himself in -his first fight worth more than nine men, and rose to be Admiral Sir -Thomas Hopson, knighted by Queen Anne for breaking the boom at Vigo. -These rough coasts have all along nursed a breed of stout sea-dogs, not -always so well employed as in fighting the battles of their country. A -century ago Yarmouth, and indeed all this corner, seems to have been a -nest of amphibian waiters on the tides of fortune, passing as fishermen -plain, but often coloured as smugglers, and proving excellent food for -powder when they could be pressed into the navy blue.</p> - -<p>Such proof spirits made boon companions for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span> eccentric painter -George Morland, when in 1799 he fled from London to escape bailiffs. He -had thus nearly jumped from the frying-pan into the fire, since at -Yarmouth he and his brother were arrested by a party of the Dorset -militia on suspicion of being spies for the French—why else should -strangers be sketching the coast? At Shanklin, the same suspicion fell -upon another artist, whom the fishermen began to pelt from his easel, -but he, being a very fat man, cleared himself by patting his paunch, and -exclaiming, “Does this look like anything French?” There was a spy-fever -all over the Island at that time. In Morland’s case, amid the hoots of a -patriotic populace, the military Dogberries marched off their prisoners -to Newport, where they were discharged by the magistrates only on -condition of making no more sketches. In spite of such prohibition, some -of Morland’s best work represents the Freshwater cliffs and the fishing -folk of this coast.</p> - -<p>Yarmouth gives itself few seaside airs; yet one has seen bathing-places -with no more to build on. There is a stretch of sand where a few -bathing-machines are unlimbered; and at low tide the smell of seaweed -and salt mud might be considered medicinal. The Pier Hotel (the -ex-“George”) has recently enlarged itself to invite custom; and on the -other side of the pier the Solent Yacht Club makes a showy patch upon a -general aspect of well-worn old-fashionedness. If one yearn for a -thicker mixture of up-to-date buildings, one has only to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span> the two -or three miles’ walk, or few minutes’ railway run to Freshwater.</p> - -<p>To the east, the Bouldnor estate has been trying to blossom into a red -brick resort upon its wooded shore fringed with sand. By the low cliffs -on this side we pass on towards the Hamstead Ledges, mines of fossils -wealth, which I have heard a British Association President declare to be -the most interesting part of the Island; but the general public takes -quite an opposite view. The northern shore, with its muddy flats and -crumbling banks, has no attraction for the many, till the sands of -Gurnard Bay bring us round to the far stretched esplanade of Cowes.</p> - -<p>Behind the coast, Parkhurst Forest once extended from Yarmouth to Cowes, -where the country is still dotted with its fragments in woods, copses, -and straggling hedgerows. Here, between the Downs and the Solent, runs -the railway to Newport, keeping well back in the green plain, with more -apparent regard for economy of line than for the convenience of the -villages it serves on either hand. Its course, indeed, is soon turned -inland by the Newton River, whose crops are raised from salterns and -oyster-beds, across which the railway gets glimpses of the sea two or -three miles away.</p> - -<p>Among the branching creeks of this shallow inlet may be sought out -Newton, now a mere hamlet, but, in the teeth of its name, boasting -itself the oldest borough in the Island, which till not so long ago -returned two members of Parliament, among them<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span> such celebrities as -Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, and George Canning. Though the place has -a tiny, tumbledown Town Hall, it was only in the last century that it -got a church of its own. But its now larger neighbour Shalfleet, nearer -the railway, has one of the most notable churches on the Island, with a -massive Norman tower and other relics, such as the rude carving over the -north door, the subject of which makes a riddle for antiquaries.</p> - -<p>On the opposite side of the line, the pretty village of Calbourne shows -another old church, a good deal “restored,” to the scandalising of -architectural purists; and near it Swainston is one of the most -dignified Wight mansions, incorporating the remains of what was once an -episcopal palace of the Winchester diocese. One Rector of Calbourne was -that Nicholas Udall, now remembered as author of <i>Ralph Roister -Doister</i>, the first English comedy, but as Headmaster of Eton noted in -his own day for out-Heroding the Tudor Herods in school discipline, if -Thomas Tusser’s experience were not exceptional—whose works the irony -of time puts on library shelves beside those of his old tyrant—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From Paul’s I went, to Eton sent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To learn straightways the Latin phrase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where fifty-three stripes given to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At once I had;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For fault but small, or none at all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It came to pass, thus beat I was.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, Udall, see, the mercy of thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me, poor lad!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_20" id="ILL_20"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i203_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i203_sml.jpg" width="428" height="311" alt="Image unavailable: SHALFLEET" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">SHALFLEET</span> -</div> - -<p>The Eton boys who painfully learned to act this Orbilius’ comedy, may -often have been as sad over it as is the traditional clown in private -life. If any of them grew up to be dramatic critics, they might have -found some satisfaction in “slating” their ex-master. To us indeed the -humours of this farcical piece suggest that our forefathers must have -been as easily amused as were Mr Peter Magnus’ friends, to Mr Pickwick’s -thinking. But also a play evidently modelled upon Plautus and Terence, -with more than a hint of our old friend <i>Miles Gloriosus</i>, is remarkable -for keeping in view a motto much neglected by many playwrights, <i>Maxima -debetur puero reverentia</i>, while indeed it condescends to rough -vernacular fun such as might not be expected from that strict -disciplinarian, who, after retirement to a country parsonage, ended his -days in another mastership at Westminster.</p> - -<p>Calbourne one understands to be the “Malbourne” of a novel that made -some noise, <i>The Silence of Dean Maitland</i>, where this countryside and -its people are gauzily veiled under such names as “<i>Old</i>port” with its -“<i>Burton’s</i> Hotel,” and the “<i>Swaynestone</i>” lords of the manor; while -other scenes of this moving story seem better masked as “Chalkbourne” -and “Belminster.” One rather wonders that novelists think it needful to -affect such a thin disguise. In another good story of the Isle of Wight, -Mrs Oliphant’s <i>Old Mr Tredgold</i>, we find the same trick of nomenclature -used rather more carelessly, when “Steephill” stands inland from -“Sliplin,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span> and the “<i>Bunbridge</i> cliffs” once betray themselves as -Bembridge by a slip of the author’s pen, or of the printer’s eye. We -plodding writers of fact are fain to grudge our fanciful brethren such -half measures in reality. We would not drive them back upon “the -pleasant town of A——” or “the ancient city of B——,” all the letters -of the alphabet having long ago been used up in this service; but they -might be at a little pain of invention to christen their “St Oggs” and -“Claverings”; or at least let them be consistent, and not dump down -Portsmouth by its honest name, as that first mentioned novelist does, -among her ineffectual <i>aliases</i>.</p> - -<p>Ground so well trodden by honeymooning couples seems to offer a fit -stage for fiction; and the Isle of Wight, if it sometimes finds itself -called out of its proper names, has less cause to complain of want of -appreciation among the novelists who deal with it. Jane Austen only -sights it from the walls of Portsmouth, but her interest was in human -rather than natural features; and she at least compliments it with its -local title “the Island.” Mr Meredith coasts or touches its shores here -and there, taking such snapshots as:—“The Solent ran up green waves -before a full-blowing South-wester. Gay little yachts bounded out like -foam, and flashed their sails, light as sea nymphs. A cloud of deep -summer blue topped the flying mountains of cloud.” Mr Zangwill pushes -inland, and writes this testimonial:—“A maze of loveliness, abounding -in tempting perspectives.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span> Every leafy avenue is rich in promise; such -nestling farmhouses, such peeping spires, such quaint red tiled -cottages, such picturesque old-fashioned mullioned windows, such -delicious wafts of perfume from the gardens and orchards, such bits of -beautiful old England as are perhaps nowhere else so profusely -scattered!” But another popular novelist, who shall here be nameless, -playing <i>Advocatus Diaboli</i> through the mouth of one of his characters -in a perverse humour, puts the seamy side thus:—“That the Isle of Wight -was only a trumpery toyshop, that its ‘scenery’ was fitly adorned with -bazaars for the sale of sham jewellery, that its amusements were on a -par with those of Rosherville Gardens; that its rocks were made of mud -and its sea of powdered lime.”</p> - -<p>This does not exhaust the catalogue of stories which have their scene -here. Professor Church’s <i>Count of the Saxon Shore</i> and Mr F. Cowper’s -<i>Captain of the Wight</i> come rather into the category of boys’ books, the -latter being specially well stuffed with swashing blows and strong -“language of the period.” Mr Headon Hill’s <i>Spies of the Wight</i> gives a -lurid peep into the machinations of a foreign power against our coast -defences, and the tricks of a Fosco-like villain foiled by one of those -Sherlock Holmes intellects that find it so easy to discover what has -been invented for discovery. We are now approaching the most fashionable -resort in the Island, and there perhaps may come across some of those -scandals and sins of society that give a popular<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span> relish to so much of -our circulating literature. Meanwhile, since there is nothing like -seeing ourselves as others see us, for a careful picture of Isle of -Wight life, let us turn to a French story-teller whose modesty might -prefer his name to be withheld.</p> - -<p>A collection of novelettes entitled <i>Amours Anglais</i>, one of which -centres in the Island, is put forth by this writer as an essay in a new -school of romance. His preface, dated from “Margate, Isle of Thanet,” -lets us understand how after long years of sojourn in England he has -observed John Bull as closely and profoundly as is possible for a -stranger to do, and that he proposes to present English life to his -countrymen, stripped of the ridiculous exterior with which it is charged -by their caricaturing spirit. This sympathising stranger knows the -British soul to be not less interesting and more wholesome than the -gloomy and flabby Russian sentiment that has had such a vogue in French -fiction. To the facts of <i>Outre-Manche</i>, then, he will apply his native -“psychologic methods,” writing as a Frenchman what he has felt as an -Englishman. His aim is “to create an international <i>genre</i> of romance, -marrying our taste to the humour and the morality of our neighbours. -Have I succeeded? The public will judge.” So, with the best intentions, -our <i>entente cordialiste</i> appeals to his French readers. Let the English -public now judge.</p> - -<p>The heroine of this story is Lilian North, nearly out of her teens, -whose home is a cottage wreathed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span> with ivy and honeysuckle in the -outskirts of Newport. Her father, who “says the service in the chapel” -across the road, is “in orders,” not indeed Anglican orders, he being a -fanatical Baptist who holds that “one is surer of going to hell with the -Archbishop of Canterbury than with the Pope of Rome himself.” Her mother -is dead. She has a married sister not far off at Plymouth—in which, for -once, the author makes a slip, as he evidently means Portsmouth. Poor -Lilian sees almost no society, except Jedediah, “papa’s disciple,” a -sort of apprentice minister who “is to read the service when papa dies.” -This young colleague and successor loves Lilian, with her father’s -approval; but she loves him not, as how should she when he has red eyes, -hair of no particular colour, and can talk about nothing but going to -heaven!</p> - -<p>Jedediah looks like turning out the hypocritical villain of the piece. -Lilian likes him less than ever when the hero appears in the person of -Harry Gordon, a young city clerk who has come courting Miss Arabella -Jones, elder daughter of the Baptist minister at Newport. Mr Jones has -the advantage of his colleague in being a rich man who “preaches only -for his amusement”; and his daughters lead a rackety life that must have -scandalised the connection, especially in the Ryde yachting season, when -they are always at some party of pleasure, “sometimes in a boat, -sometimes on horseback, sometimes in <i>char-à-bancs</i>, never knowing in -the morning where<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span> they shall lunch in the afternoon, nor where and with -whom they shall dance in the evening”; and when they visit Newport it is -with a train of ever fresh cavaliers.</p> - -<p>At a picnic in the ruins of Carisbrooke, Lilian makes the acquaintance -of Harry Gordon, whom her friend Arabella Jones professes to disdain as -a shy awkward boy. But Lilian takes to him, and Harry begins to pay more -attention to her than to the proud Miss Jones. At a game of blindman’s -buff among the ruins, the blindfolded hero is more deliberate than need -be in pawing over Lilian’s face and figure before giving her name. Cupid -catches them both.</p> - -<p>Another day there was a party to Freshwater, where the sea is always -<i>méchant</i>, even in fine weather. The ladies having ventured out in a -boat, found themselves in such danger that they were glad to get on -shore. Then Arabella put her backward swain to the test with the -question—“if we had gone down, which of us would you have saved first?” -Harry did not answer, but his looks were on Lilian, to the spiteful -displeasure of Miss Jones. So, in talking of a ball about to be given by -the wealthy Baptist pastor of Ryde, she scornfully bid Lilian come to it -only if properly dressed—“none of your shabby dyed frocks and halfpenny -flowers!”</p> - -<p>Lilian’s cheeks glowed with shame under this insult, and she took the -first opportunity of stealing away to weep all alone by moonlight. But -Harry, indignantly sympathetic, had followed her, guided by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span> her sobs. -In vain she bid him return to his Arabella. Arabella indeed! He had -never much cared for Miss Jones, whom he now detested after such an -exhibition of ill-natured rudeness. As they strolled on the Freshwater -esplanade, Lilian’s foot slipped; and Harry, holding-her up, took the -opportunity to clasp the heroine in his arms. They went back an engaged -couple—<i>cela va sans dire</i>.</p> - -<p>The courtship had to be done on the sly; yet the young couple must have -attracted suspicion in any more censorious neighbourhood, such as that -not far away, which we hear of, on good authority, as bubbling over with -“gossip, scandal, and spite.” Every day Harry rode from Ryde to Newport, -met at her garden-gate by Lilian, to keep company with all the freedom -of a British maiden and of an innocent heart. “I gave sugar to his -horse, which was called Fly; we picked flowers, and ran races against -each other.” Only the jealous Jedediah guessed what was going on. When -Harry entered the house, he feigned great attention to the religious -exhortations of the father, but could not make way in his good-will, -while Jedediah scowled at every sight of his rival, whose ring Lilian -wore “hidden under my mitten,” yet not perhaps from that -green-spectacled monster.</p> - -<p>Autumn broke up the gay non-conformist society of the Island. The Misses -Jones went off to make fresh conquests at Brighton. Harry had to go back -to his London office, but every week-end he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span> took a bed at the “Bugle” -Hotel of Newport, spent Sunday with his <i>fiancée’s</i> family, and returned -to business by the last train. In spite of this breaking of the Sabbath, -the Baptist minister believed that the young man came all the way from -London to hear him preach. But at last the neighbours began to talk; so -the lovers saw themselves obliged to meet only in secret, and to pour -out their hearts in long letters. The worst of it was that Harry grew -cross and impatient. His father, a rich shipowner at Cardiff, would -never consent to his engagement with the daughter of a poor Baptist -preacher. If he knew, he would cut his son off with a shilling, “as the -law authorises him to do.” The Rev. Mr North, for his part, would frown -on his child’s union with a family far from sound in faith. Lilian was -for a long engagement, in hopes that the old people would come round. -Harry’s more heroic remedy was an immediate secret marriage such as, in -tale and history, has sooner or later the effect of forcing parents to -make the best of a bad business. The wooer becomes ill-temperedly -pressing; Lilian at length consents; but when these unpractical -youngsters lay their heads together, they run up at once against the -serious difficulty of finding a minister to marry them. Then the heroine -takes the desperate resolution of throwing herself upon the generosity -of her unsuccessful suitor. She leads Jedediah into the garden; and now -for a scene in the best style of French fiction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“Do you love me, Mr Jedediah?” I said.</p> - -<p>The poor fellow had a moment of joy and hope.</p> - -<p>“I ask if you love me well enough to wish my happiness, even if -that should cause you pain?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said he, all at once overcast again.</p> - -<p>“And do you feel yourself capable of doing all you can to aid the -accomplishment of what will be grievous to you?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” replied Jedediah with a sigh.</p> - -<p>“Mr Jedediah, I love Harry Gordon.”</p> - -<p>“I feared so!”</p> - -<p>“I wish to marry him.”</p> - -<p>“And you reckon on me to win the consent of Mr North. But nothing -will move him, Miss Lilian: he has discovered that Mr Harry’s -father is a Puseyite, and his aunt a nun in Ireland. His conviction -is that Mr Harry is a treacherous foe who has got into intimacy -with him for the purpose of stealing his papers and spying upon his -conduct. Nothing will move him!”</p> - -<p>“I am aware of it, so I have made up my mind to marry without his -knowledge.”</p> - -<p>“Without his knowledge! But who will marry you?”</p> - -<p>“You, Mr Jedediah!”</p> - -<p>“Me!”</p> - -<p>“Yourself, my good, my dear Jedediah!”</p> - -<p>“But,” went on Jedediah, after a moment’s consideration, “even if I -were weak enough to consent to so culpable an action, such a union -would not be valid in the eye of the law. Not being a member of the -Established Church, I cannot celebrate a civil marriage. You must -go before the Registrar; and, as you are both under age, this -official will not marry you without your father’s authorisation in -writing.”</p> - -<p>“Alas! what are we to do?”</p> - -<p>Jedediah reflected.</p> - -<p>“What would you say if I undertook to get this authorisation for -you?”</p> - -<p>“I should say that you are our good angel.”</p> - -<p>“Then, let me manage.”</p> - -<p>I held out my hand and he kissed it. His glasses were moist with -tears.</p> - -<p>Three days later, he brought me the document which I required. He -was very pale. I would have asked questions, but he let me<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span> -understand that he would not answer. “I have done wrong for your -sake, Miss Lilian,” he said.</p> - -<p>I learned afterwards that he had procured my father’s <i>blanc-seing</i> -under pretext of a petition addressed to the Government against the -Ritualists, and especially against the use of surplices, baldaquins -over altars, and confessionals.</p> - -<p>I do not know to what stratagems Harry had recourse for obtaining -the necessary papers. What is certain is that we were married on -Easter Tuesday, before the Registrar of the county, after which -Jedediah gave us the nuptial benediction in a little chapel of the -Baptist communion situated in the environs of Plymouth -(<i>Portsmouth</i>). He married us without looking at us. I have never -seen a scene more strange, nor a man more unfortunate.</p> - -<p>He refused to come and share the wedding-cake with us, which we ate -at my sister’s.</p></div> - -<p>But those English love-marriages between rash young people by no mean -always end in living happily all the rest of their days; and the story -soon turns tragic, its scene shifting from the Island. After that secret -wedding, Harry returns to London, leaving his wife in an awkward -position, where Jedediah is her only comfort. Love still blinds her eyes -to the selfishness of Harry; but the reader sees how she might have been -better off with poor Jedediah, who is not such a villain after all, but -only the Dobbin or Seth Bede of the tale. The time comes when her -marriage can no longer be hidden. Harry takes lodgings for her in London -at the house of a Mrs Benson, whose husband, being employed at the -Bricklayers’ Arms Goods Station, finds it convenient to live in a -four-roomed house in Shoreditch, too large for a quiet couple.</p> - -<p>To this sympathetic landlady, Lilian relates the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span> foregoing story, with -many tears and gulps of <i>tisane</i>, a refreshment, it seems, known to -Shoreditch sickbeds. Her child is born dead. The young mother in her -feverish weakness fancies that Jedediah has revengefully contrived some -defect in the ceremony, and cries out to have her marriage made legally -complete at the parish church. Harry, moved by her delirium, writes to -both parents, confessing the truth. A curate is sent for, who politely -but hastily says a few prayers at the sick-bed, then hurries off to a -tea-party at the West-end. Lilian dies the same night. Harry weeps, to -be sure, but soon grows tired of sitting up with the dead, and comes -down to smoke a pipe with the landlord.</p> - -<p>Next day Gordon <i>père</i> arrives in a great rage, but, at the sight of his -dead daughter-in-law, he is touched to the point of taking off his hat, -as English gentlemen, it appears, will do on such special occasions. Mr -North, on his arrival, shows natural grief, which is soon turned to -wrath by the sight of a crucifix laid on his daughter’s breast, contrary -to “the statute of the fifteenth year of Elizabeth,” as he knows well; -and he gives up all hope of her eternal welfare, on hearing how her last -moments had been corrupted by the prayers of an Anglican priest. Mrs -Benson, who takes that wide view of religion spread in France by such -divines as the Savoyard Vicar and such poets as Beranger, in vain tries -to comfort him.</p> - -<p>“What! Is she lost for such a small matter?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> The curate did not stay ten -minutes. I know nothing about any of your sects; but I am sure that -there is only one <i>bon Dieu</i> for all of us; and Benson thinks so too.”</p> - -<p>Jedediah’s grief is not less deep but more reasonable. It is he who -performs the service when, on a snowy evening, Lilian is buried in -Bethnal Green Cemetery.</p> - -<p>But the sensational story has a cynical epilogue. Kind Mrs Benson, <i>qui -sent son Dickens</i>, never forgets her young lodger. One Sunday, as her -husband is reading <i>Lloyd’s News</i>, which he spells out conscientiously -from the “<i>premier Londres</i> of M. Jerrold to the last line of the -advertisements,” he exclaims at a paragraph stating that a clergyman, -named North, formerly of the Isle of Wight, had been caught trying to -break images over the altar of Exeter Cathedral, and sent to an asylum -as a madman. Nothing is heard of Jedediah, and we can only trust that he -duly succeeded to the Newport pastorate and found some consoling -helpmeet in the congregation. Of Harry there is no news till some years -later, when the Bensons go to Cardiff to meet a married daughter -returning from New Zealand. Calling at the Gordons’ house, they learn -that the father is dead, and that Harry, now his own master, is about to -marry a Miss Jones of Ryde, not indeed the proud Arabella, but her -younger sister Florence, to whom time has transferred his facile -affections.</p> - -<p>The last scene introduces Miss Florence going<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span> over the house soon to be -her own, and finding in a drawer an old black glove torn and soiled. -Harry denies all knowledge of it, but when his new beloved proposes to -throw it away, he shows that it has some value for him. The suspicious -damsel sulks, plays off on his jealousy a cousin in the Scots Greys, -refuses to waltz with her <i>fiancé</i>, except at the price of his giving up -that glove. He sighs as a widower, but obeys as a wooer. Giving one -secret kiss to poor Lilian’s glove, he resigns it to the triumphant Miss -Jones, who flings it on the fire, and holds out her white fingers for -the forgiven Harry to kiss, yet not without a smiling stab at that -unknown rival’s memory—“Her hand was larger than mine!”</p> - -<p>Now for the moral of this realistic romance. “Let him who has never -committed a cowardice of the kind, who has never sacrificed a memory to -a hope, the forgotten love to the fresh one, the dead to the living, let -him cast at Harry the first stone!” To which poor Jedediah will not say -<i>Amen</i>.</p> - -<p>The latest scene for fiction set in the Isle of Wight—<i>All Moonshine</i>, -by Richard Whiteing—is no photograph of actual society like that just -reduced, but a most imaginative romance, not to say a wild nightmare -inspired by the dangers of over-population, and based on the statistical -claim quoted in my first chapter, that the world’s eighteen hundred -millions or so could all find room to meet in this Island. The author, -falling asleep at Ventnor, dreams of such a universal rendezvous as -coming about in the form of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span> astral bodies from all ends of the earth, -when some very strange things happen among the unsubstantial multitude. -At one moment it seems as if the ghostly armies of England and Germany -were about to close here in a lurid Armageddon; but they are fain to -fraternise before the general peril of an earthquake announced at Shide -as threatening to crack the globe and overwhelm civilisation in waves of -fire let loose from hell. The dreamer awakes to find the world what it -is, with nations and classes seeking to fatten on their neighbours’ -poverty, kings and statesmen watching each other’s armaments in mutual -suspicion, priests hoisting flags on their churches in exultation over -the slaughter of fellow-Christians, and only an unpractical poet or -romancer to cry here and there—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! when shall all men’s good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be each man’s rule, and universal peace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lie like a shaft of light across the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like a lane of beams athwart the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ all the circle of the golden year.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_21" id="ILL_21"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i222_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i222_sml.jpg" width="655" height="459" alt="Image unavailable: CALBOURNE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CALBOURNE</span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="COWES" id="COWES"></a>COWES</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">We</span> now come to one of the most important places in the Island, a place -that holds up its double head for second to none in the way of dignity -and fashion, though it began life as two small castles built by Henry -VIII. at the Medina’s mouth to protect the harbour of Newport.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The two great Cows that in loud thunder roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This on the eastern, that the western shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where Newport enters stately Wight.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>“I knew when there was not above three or four houses at Cowes,” says -Sir John Oglander, who yet had counted three hundred ships at anchor -there; “and I was and am persuaded that if our wars and troubles had not -unfortunately happened, it would have grown as famous as Newport.” -Another scourge of the Island in his time was the activity of lawyers to -stir up strife, whereas the first attorney who ventured himself here had -been ignominiously charivaried out of this Arcadian scene by order of -the Governor. But it might be, he admits, that lawyers were no more to -blame than the absence of ships of war, once such good customers for -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span> Islanders’ produce. “Now peace and law hath beggared us all, so -that within my memory many of the gentlemen and almost all the yeomanry -are undone.” One observes the distinction drawn by this rule of thumb -economist between the ruinous effects of civil war and the profitable -accidents of helping to ruin another country.</p> - -<p>It is easy to understand how Cowes came to be the Tilbury and Gravesend -of Newport, then by and by to supplant it as the Island’s chief port. In -the days of small vessels, such a harbour as Newport offers was roomy -and accessible enough, while it had the advantage of being more out of -the way of hostile attack. London, Glasgow, Newcastle, Exeter, Bristol -are only a few examples of great ports lying some way up navigable -rivers; then on the larger scale of the world, one at once thinks of -Calcutta, Canton, Montreal, New Orleans, Rosario, and so on. Some of -these inland havens have kept their commercial position only by pains -and cost hardly worth while to save half-a-dozen miles of water -carriage; so, as ships grew too big for the tiny wharves of Newport, -they would unload at the mouth of the river that makes the one good -harbour on the Island. Thus Cowes grew apace; and a century ago it bid -fair to be at least the second Wight town, till Ryde took a sudden start -in prosperity. Like Ryde and Yarmouth it throve by victualling the great -war fleets and convoys that often lay wind-bound in the Solent. But -Cowes got a special string to its<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span> bow in the ship-building industry -rooted here, then another in its position as headquarters of Solent -yachting; and royal favour went to bring it into fashion. There was a -time when it aspired to be a mere Margate or Sandown, in honour of which -a Georgian poet named Jones is moved to predict—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No more to foreign baths shall Britain roam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But plunge at Cowes and find rich health at home!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>To tell the truth, Cowes hardly shines in this capacity. Its bathing is -not everywhere safe in the currents of the Solent; and to pick out a -sandy oasis on the rough beach one must go eastward towards Gurnard Bay. -Nowadays, indeed, the place is so spoilt by the patronage of European -royalties and American millionaires, that it does not much care to lay -itself out for the holiday-making <i>bourgeois</i> and his olive branches. -The straggling town, divided by the Medina, has no particular charm -unless that of a marine flavour. It is far from being so picturesque as -Ventnor, or so imposing as Ryde; and apart from the artificial beauties -of the parks enclosing it, its surroundings are commonplace beside those -of Newport. Its main interest is on the sea-face looking over the -shallow waters of the Solent, beside which East Cowes huddles along a -narrow main street, that winds up and down, in and out, here and there, -making a quaint show of houses old and new, half and half, dwellings -mixed with shops, an unusual proportion of them providing refreshments, -when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span> they do not display such wares as ship’s lanterns, and other -sea-fittings from cordage to carronades. The central point is the -steamboat pier opposite the station; then further west comes the -Victoria Pier with its pavilion, on a scale that shows how little Cowes -cares to cater for your common Saturday to Monday visitor.</p> - -<p>Cowes makes the Mecca of the yachtsman, as St Andrews of the golfer. It -is the most famous station of those idle craft that in our day diverge -into two different forms—the steam vessels, models of comfort and -elegance, even luxury, some of them fitted for making pleasure-cruises -all over the world; and the mere sailing boats, that seem utterly -useless but as racing machines to skim like butterflies over some quiet -sea, with their decks as often as not half under water—“a sort of metal -torpedo with two or three balloons fixed on to it.” This is a pastime as -expensive as the turf, and sometimes as unsatisfactory to the amateurs -who seek social glory thereby. Not all the gentlemen who swagger about -in blue jackets here are so much at home on the ocean wave as for the -nonce they would fain appear. Not all those big and smart craft so much -admired in the roads of Cowes are very familiar with the breeze or the -billow of the open sea. The sailing masters and crews of some of them -must have a good easy time of it; and one suspects they prefer being in -the service of a fine-weather sailor, whose purse is his main -qualification for seamanship, to taking orders from some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span> old salt who -knows the ropes as well as they do. We remember Jack Brag and his -skipper Bung. But there are yachtsmen of another school, whose blood has -the salt in it that goes so far to make England what it is, men who, -without having the means to own idle vessels, dearly love playing the -mariner in good earnest, and can spend no happier holiday than in -working some small craft with their own hands, taking rough and smooth -as it comes, getting health and pleasure out of return for a month or so -to something like the old Viking life, and all its tingling charm of a -struggle with the forces of nature. Sailors of this stamp can here buy -or hire craft of all kinds, but perhaps more cheaply at other ports on -the Solent, for it is not only at regatta-time that Cowes has a name for -high charges.</p> - -<p>The Solent with its almost landlocked waters, its many creeks, and its -havens of refuge never more than a few miles off, makes a good -cruising-ground for small craft such as can be sailed by the owner with -the help of one or two hands working for love or money. Yet there are -special difficulties here in the broken shore-line, the shifting banks, -the shallows, and the treacherous currents, that call for some nautical -ability, and even local experience to interpret the many buoys and -beacons marking the channels of a watery labyrinth. The chief danger, -apart from an occasional rough sea and squalls to be looked out for -through openings in the land, is the violence of the tides, that -encounter one another from each end<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span> of the Solent, so as to produce the -peculiar result of a double high water—the ebb, after an hour or so, -being driven back up to Southampton by a fresh flow.</p> - -<p>There are, of course, various yacht clubs that take the Solent for their -province; but the admiral of them all is the “Squadron,” one of the most -exclusive clubs in the world, whose members have the much coveted right -to fly St George’s white pennant on their yachts, and other privileges. -Its membership is the port for which some of the most sumptuous yachts -are fitted out. Many a millionaire would give a large slice of his -fortune for admission to this body; but ill-gotten gold that buys -titles, social advantages, and lordly yachts, is not an <i>Open Sesame</i> -here; and there are aspirants who know, like Spenser, what it is in this -matter “to have thy Prince’s grace and want <i>his</i> peers’.” Princely, -royal or imperial patronage is seldom wanting for the regatta at the -beginning of August, with which, passing on to the coast from Goodwood, -the fashionable world disperses itself for the season in the blaze of -fireworks that marks the end of “Cowes week.” During this week, Cowes -becomes the focus of “smart” society, money and champagne flying over it -like sea spray, and all its accommodation crammed; indeed, it would have -no room for half its visitors, if not a few of them did not bring their -own quarters in the shape of the innumerable yachts that by day are -radiant with rainbow bunting, and by night illuminate the waters of -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_22" id="ILL_22"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i227_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i227_sml.jpg" width="420" height="313" alt="Image unavailable: YACHTING AT COWES" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">YACHTING AT COWES</span> -</div> - -<p>Solent with thousands of lights. It is said indeed that, of late years, -yachting begins to decline in fashion; that the expensive craft are -allowed to take longer holidays, and that “Cowes week” is not filled -with such a cloud of canvas. It may well be that our “smart set” find -the winds and waves disturbing to the calculations of Bridge.</p> - -<p>During Cowes’ water-carnival, some of the finest yachts afloat may still -be seen at anchor off the R. Y. S. Clubhouse, standing out prominently -on the sea-front, with its flagstaff and jetty, at which only members -and officers of the navy are privileged to land, under the muzzles of a -miniature battery brought from Virginia Water for holiday service. This -building, whose glass gallery is the grand stand of yacht racing, has -been adapted from the old castle of Henry VIII., in the seventeenth -century used as a state prison. Here Sir William Davenant spent his -hours of confinement in writing an heroic poem, <i>Gondibert</i>, which one -fears to be hardly read nowadays, unless it makes part of prison -libraries. There are some score cantos of it, filling eight score or so -of folio pages; and this, as in the contemporary case of the bear and -the fiddle, brings the story only to the middle, for as the author puts -it in metaphors readily suggested at Cowes, “ ’tis high time to strike -Sail, and cast Anchor (though I have run but half my Course) when at the -helm I am threatened with Death, who, though he can visit us but once, -seems troublesome, and even in the Innocent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span> may beget such a gravity as -diverts the Musick of Verse.”</p> - -<p>The parade of Cowes runs on beyond the castle, past gardened villas, to -open out as the Green, a strip of sward set with seats that make the pit -of the open-air theatre for which the Solent is stage in its -yacht-racing season. At the end of this is the point marked by a brick -ivy-clad mansion called Egypt, why so called, one knows not, unless that -the name, occurring elsewhere in England, seems sometimes connected with -gipsy memories. Did one wish to go gipsying, this end of Cowes was once -fairly well adapted for such purposes; but cottages of gentility keep on -spreading along the sea edge.</p> - -<p>At Egypt is the bathing beach, from which the sea wall extends onward -towards a bank of wild shrubbery called the “Copse,” a miniature -Undercliff, where, rooted in singularly tenacious mud, an almost -impassable jungle offers scope for the adventurous imagination of youth. -This is skirted by a rough path above the shore, where at morn and eve -may be seen flesh and blood <i>replicas</i> of Frederick Walker’s “Bathers,” -or of Mr Tuke’s “August Blue” scene, exhibited “without the formality of -an apparatus,” as the Oxford man in <i>Humphrey Clinker</i> has it. As for -the bathing-machines further back, a guide-book of his generation states -that “from the manner in which they are constructed, and the position -they occupy, a person may safely commit himself to the bosom of Neptune<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span> -at almost any state of the tide.” Yet one may hint to strangers not -desirous of committing themselves to Abraham’s bosom, that the currents -run strong here, and that some parts of the shallow shore deepen -suddenly.</p> - -<p>One of the sandiest bathing-places on this shore is at Gurnard’s Bay, -about two miles along, which has an hotel of its own and other -beginnings of a seaside resort. This used to be a landing-place from the -mainland; and here was the site of another Roman villa. The guide-books -of a future generation may have more to say about Gurnard’s Bay; but I -must ask the reader now to turn back to Cowes.</p> - -<p>At the back of the town is its Church, built in the time of the -Commonwealth, that did not much foster church architecture; and behind -this stands the manorial mansion of Northwood Park in somewhat gloomy -grounds opened by funereally classical gates. The older parish church is -that of Northwood, some way inland, which itself, in its day, had been -an offshoot of Carisbrooke. Northwood Park hived for a time the foreign -nuns who lately swarmed to other quarters at Ryde. This mansion had long -been looked on by true blue Protestants as a half-way house to Rome, -when it was the home of William George Ward, a prominent name in the -“Oxford Movement” that so much shifted the Anglican establishment’s -centre of gravity. He went over to the Roman Church, and moved to -another house<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span> near Totland Bay, where his neighbour Tennyson had warm -words to say over his grave—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My friend, the most unworldly of mankind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most generous of all ultramontanes, Ward,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How subtle at tierce and quart of mind with mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How loyal in the following of thy Lord!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The chief hotels and lodging-houses are found on that part of the parade -east of the “Squadron,” which at one time occupied the Gloucester Hotel. -The crooked main street leads us to the river suburb of Mill Hill, and -to the floating bridge by which the Medina is crossed to East Cowes. -There has been talk of a tunnel here, as under broader channels; but the -amphibious folk of this port are still content with their ferry.</p> - -<p>East Cowes, though at one time the more important side, has long been -eclipsed by its western neighbour. It may be described as a suburb of -ambitious roads mounting the wooded background from a rather mean -frontage, so as to bring into curious juxtaposition some characteristics -of Norwood and Rotherhithe. At the seaward end it has a short esplanade -of its own, from which is to be had a fine sunset view over the Solent. -The old fortress on this side has entirely disappeared. The most -interesting house here is Slatwoods, the boyhood’s home of Dr Arnold of -Rugby, his father having been collector of customs at this port. Arnold, -born in a house at West Cowes now marked by a tablet, but brought up on -the other side, always had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_23" id="ILL_23"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i235_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i235_sml.jpg" width="418" height="314" alt="Image unavailable: OSBORNE HOUSE" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">OSBORNE HOUSE</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">an affection for Slatwoods, and slips of its great willow tree were -transplanted to his successive homes at Laleham, Rugby, and Fox How.</p> - -<p>East Cowes is shut in by the grounds of East Cowes Castle and Norris -Castle, mansions of the modern Gothic period, that have had noble -occupants and royal guests. Norris Castle, at the point of the estuary -open to briny breezes from every quarter, was in 1833 tenanted by the -Duchess of Kent, sea-air having been ordered for her daughter’s precious -health. The Princess Victoria made here a collection of sea-weeds which -she presented to her friend Maria da Gloria, the girl-queen of Portugal; -and no doubt in this sequestered nook she was able to go about more -freely than at Bognor or Brighton. She seems to have much enjoyed her -stay on the Solent, probably then taking a fancy to this neighbourhood, -which in later life led to the purchase of Osborne, her favourite -residence when Balmoral was too bleakly bracing. The park begins beyond -the ascent out of East Cowes, extending along the wooded northern shore -towards the small inlet called King’s Quay, that pretends to be a -landing-place of King John, who, after signing Magna Charta, is -dubiously said to have sulked here among the pirates of the Island.</p> - -<p>Osborne Manor, whose name has been clipped to so aristocratic a sound, -would have been originally no more than an <i>Austerbourne</i> or -<i>Oyster-bed</i>, that, from the Bowermans, an old Island family not yet -extinct,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span> came to belong to one Eustace Mann, who, during the troubles -of the Civil War, is supposed to have buried a mass of gold and silver -coins in a coppice still known as Money Coppice, and having forgotten to -mark the spot, was never afterwards able to recover his treasure. Had it -been found in the course of the last half century, a curious lawsuit -might have arisen between the rights of the Crown and of the Queen as -private owner. By marriage the estate came into the hands of the -Blachfords. From Lady Isabella Blachford it was purchased by Queen -Victoria in 1840, who enlarged her property here to an area of upwards -of 5000 acres, bounded north by the Solent, south by the Ryde and -Newport road, east by the inlet of King’s Quay, and west by the Medina.</p> - -<p>The Blachford mansion, spoken of a century ago as one of the largest and -best in the Island, gave place to the palace of Osborne, royally adorned -with pictures and statuary, that turns its Palladian face to the Solent, -while from the road behind only the flag tower and campanile can be seen -peeping above the rich foliage of the park. A “Swiss Cottage” contained -the model dairy and kitchen, where the princesses are understood to have -been instructed in housewifely arts, and a museum of curiosities -collected by the princes in their travels through an empire on which the -sun never sets. At Barton Manor-house, a picturesque old mansion added -to the estate and adapted as residence of the steward,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span> was the Prince -Consort’s home-farm, which “a Mr Wilkinson, a clergyman” is quoted in -guide-books as praising for a model of all that could be done to make -the best of a naturally poor soil. The late Queen’s love of seclusion -prompted her to increase and enclose her demesne, till she could drive -for miles in her own grounds, kept strictly private during the royal -residence.</p> - -<p>Behind Osborne, overlooking the Medina, is Whippingham Church, whose -parish takes in Osborne and East Cowes, as West Cowes was a dependent on -Northwood. This church, sometimes attended by the royal family, is rich -in mortuary memorials, among them Theed’s monument of the Prince -Consort, placed here by “his broken-hearted and devoted widow, Queen -Victoria,” and the chapel that is the tomb of Prince Henry of -Battenberg, married in Whippingham Church, 1885. The structure, finely -situated, has a singularly un-English look, its German Romanesque -features understood to have been inspired by the taste of the Prince -Consort, on which account her late Majesty’s loyal subjects would fain -have admired the effect, as many of them could not honestly do. A wicked -tale is told of a gentleman well known in the architectural world, who, -on a visit at Whippingham, was surprised by a summons to Osborne. -Unfortunately, this stranger had not been furnished with a <i>carte du -pays</i>, and when the Queen led the conversation to Whippingham Church, -asking advice what should be done with it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span> he bluntly gave his opinion: -“The only thing to be done, madam, is to pull it all down!”—whereupon -the uncourtly adviser found his audience soon brought to an end.</p> - -<p>Other stories or legends are locally current, illustrating the -difficulties of etiquette that hampered her Majesty’s desire to be on -friendly terms with her less august neighbours. One hears of guests -scared off by the sight of a red cloth on the steps to mark how royalty -would be taking tea or counsel within; and of others suddenly bundled -out of the way, when the Queen’s unpretentious equipage was announced as -approaching. It seems that majesty’s neighbours were not all -neighbourly. A lady of title here is said to have closed her gates to -the Queen’s carriage, which never again took that direction. Such an -assertion of private rights would have astonished that high-titled -Eastern potentate, of whom it is told that, being entertained at the -seat of one of our greatest dukes, he advised the then Prince of Wales -to have their host executed without delay as much too powerful a -subject!</p> - -<p>After the death of Queen Victoria, the present Sovereign gave up this -estate to be in the main a public memorial of her, though Osborne -Cottage is still occupied by the Princess Henry of Battenberg, Governor -of the Island with which she has so many happy and sorrowful -associations. The palace has been in part adapted as a home for -convalescent officers, the room in which the Queen died and other<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span></p> - -<p><a name="ILL_24" id="ILL_24"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i243_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i243_sml.jpg" width="414" height="336" alt="Image unavailable: WHIPPINGHAM CHURCH" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">WHIPPINGHAM CHURCH</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">apartments being kept as used by her, to make a sight at present open on -certain days. In the grounds are the new buildings of a Naval College, -whose cadets will be brought up in view of the famous anchorage haunted -by memories of our “wooden walls,” and often stirred by the mighty -machines that have taken their place, we trust, to the same good -purpose.</p> - -<p>Of all the naval pageants these shores have beheld, none could be more -impressive than when, that dull winter afternoon of 1901, stirred only -by tolling bells and booming minute guns, the body of Europe’s most -venerated Sovereign was borne across the Solent through a mile-long lane -of British and foreign war-ships, on her last journey to Windsor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GATES_OF_THE_ISLAND" id="THE_GATES_OF_THE_ISLAND"></a>THE GATES OF THE ISLAND</h2> - - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Before</span> turning away from the Solent, we may take a look at its northern -shores, and the mainland ports making gateways of the strait and island -that serve their populations as playground.</p> - -<p>Cowes lies opposite Southampton, with which it has direct communication -up the long inlet of Southampton Water, the least expeditious passage to -the Island, but the pleasantest in fine weather, most of the hour’s -voyage being by that wooded arm of the Solent, where on one side stretch -the heaths and copses of the New Forest’s Beaulieu corner; while the -other is broken by the mouths of the Hamble and of the Itchen. Between -these creeks, stands conspicuous the Netley Hospital, said to be the -longest building in England, overshadowing Netley Castle, adapted as a -modern mansion, and the picturesque old ruins of Netley Abbey, fallen to -be a junketing resort for Southampton. The Royal Victoria Hospital, a -name well earned by the late Queen’s interest in it, was built for -soldiers invalided in the Crimean War, and became to our army what the -Haslar Hospital, at Gosport, is to the navy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span> Netley Bay is now -headquarters of the Motor-Yacht Club, housed in an ex-Admiralty yacht.</p> - -<p>Too many of the Isle of Wight passengers who embark or land at -Southampton Pier, know not what a mistake they make in hurrying on -without a look at one of the most interesting old towns in England, -which from the railway or the docks may appear to be no more than one of -its most prosperous ports. The Northam and Southam of early days have -here grown into a still growing municipality, whose lively streets imbed -some most notable fragments of the past, now reverently preserved. The -largest portion of the walls is a stretch of curious archways facing the -west shore, behind which filthily picturesque slums have been cleared -away and replaced by a pile of model lodging-houses that our era of -sanitation puts in bold contrast with the Middle Ages. These Arcades, as -they are called, seem to have been the defensible entrances to a line of -mansions, very eligible for their period. Behind, beside the spire of -Southampton’s oldest church, is a Tudor house said to have accommodated -Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn on their brief honeymoon. The oldest of the -houses on the sea front, by the “King’s Quay” as it used to be called, -is believed to have been tenanted by King John, perhaps by Henry III; -and among the many King John’s lodges and King John’s palaces scattered -over England, this seems to have the best right to the honour thus -claimed for it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span></p> - -<p>Further on, near the end of the pier, is the West Gate, under which -Henry V.’s men-at-arms and archers clanked out on their way to -Agincourt.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Suppose that you have seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The well-appointed king at Hampton pier<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Play with your fancies, and in them behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breasting the lofty surge: O do but think<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You stand upon the rivage and behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A city on the inconstant billows dancing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For so appears this fleet majestical,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holding due course to Harfleur.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Such a floating city as Shakespeare saw here in his mind’s eye, would -seem but a hamlet beside the streets of craft from all the world that -now crowd Southampton docks. Behind them, near the foot of High Street, -is a building which, if tradition lie not, may boast itself the oldest -house in England, for, stable as it is now, it sets up to be a remnant -of King Canute’s residence, who on the shore hereabouts, perhaps enacted -his famous scene of commanding the waves, more effectually restrained by -the heroes of modern industry; but on that oft-told tale Leslie Stephen -drily remarks, “that an anecdote is simply the polite name of a lie.”</p> - -<p>From the Quay quarter, what a well-known novelist styles the “brightest, -airiest, lightest, prettiest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span> High Street in England,” leads up to the -Bargate, imposing survival of mediæval architecture, with which -Southampton is proud to hamper her busy main thoroughfare, long after -prosaic Londoners have banished their obstructive Temple Bar. The long -street, hence known as “Above Bar,” goes out between pleasant parks, -then as a lordly avenue that begins one of the finest high-roads in the -kingdom, running on to Winchester. As this avenue is approached, on the -left stands a building that should be viewed with grateful respect by -all conscientious tourists and their guides, since it is the -headquarters of the Ordnance Survey maps. Further on, beside the road, -is reached Southampton Common, one of the prettiest natural parks and -playgrounds at the gate of any great town, seeming to be, what indeed it -is, a half cleared bit of the New Forest.</p> - -<p>The woods of the New Forest come within a few miles of Southampton, -which has other pleasant scenes about its salubrious site on a gravelly -spit projecting between the Itchen and the Test, angling streams of -fame. Its sea-front on the West Bay is hardly an admirable point unless -at high water, as it more often shows a green expanse of slime and -malodorous weed that by no means <i>ladet zum Baden</i>, fit rather for the -paddling of adventurous mud larks. But the citizens, more ingenious than -Canute, catch the elusive tide in a basin that makes an excellent -open-air swimming bath. The strong smell of seaweed is offensive to some -strangers, who may comfort<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span> themselves by considering it as wholesome: -had this rubbish bank been German, it would probably be utilised for -some sort of <i>Kur</i>, with a three weeks’ course of sanatory sniffs, and a -<i>Nach-kur</i> of whey treatment in the Isle of Wight. Southampton had once -indeed a chalybeate spa of its own, to which its Victoria Rooms seems a -monument.</p> - -<p>This old seaport has had notable sons, from Isaac Watts, whose statue in -the park looks down on a flower-bed visited by busy bees, to Charles -Dibdin, whose nautical songs were not so well adapted to the restraint -of angry passions. If all tales be true, its oldest celebrity is that -Bevis of Hampton, whose story, indeed, inconvenient critics father upon -a twelfth century French romance; and it has certainly been told in -several languages: so far off as Venice, this widely popular hero is -found figuring as a sort of local Punch. But for the confusion of all -who doubt his Hampshire origin, the name Bevis Mount still preserves on -the Itchen bank the memory of a stronghold he threw up here against the -Danes; and who was he if not Bevis of Hampton? The story also gives him -a connection with the Isle of Wight; so, as we began with dull history, -let us draw towards an end with a taste of what, one fears, must count -rather as fiction, perhaps expanded about some core of legendary fact.</p> - -<p><i>Sir Bevis of Hampton</i> was one of the favourite romances of the feudal -age; and his adventures were familiar to John Bunyan’s unregenerate -youth, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span> little known to the Southampton boys who in our time pass the -sixth standard, however well versed they may be in our own “penny -dreadful” literature. Yet <i>Ivanhoe</i>, <i>Pathfinder</i>, and the <i>Three -Musketeers</i> rolled into one, would make a tame hero beside Sir Bevis. As -became a hero, he had difficulties to contend with all along, the first -being an unnatural mother who, one grieves to say, was a Scottish -princess. Married to Guy, Earl of Southampton, whose name suggests some -connection with the still more famous lord of Warwick, she preferred a -foreign prince, Sir Murdour, a name that gives plain hint of his nature, -as well as a dim anticipation of David Copperfield’s tyrant.</p> - -<p>Guy being betrayed by his wife and slain by her paramour when Bevis was -only seven years old, the wicked pair’s next object would naturally be -to get rid of a child who might avenge his father. With a fortunate want -of wisdom often shown by the bad characters of romance, the mother did -not see to this business herself, but charged it on Saber, the child’s -uncle, by whom he had been reared; then the kind Saber, as proof of -compliance, sent her his nephew’s princely garments sprinkled with the -blood of a pig, while he kept the boy safe and sound, disguised as a -shepherd. But Bevis had too high a spirit to await the opportunity of -revenge promised by his uncle when he should come to manhood. Feeding -his sheep on the downs, he became so infuriated by the sounds of revelry -in which his mother and her new<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span> husband sought to drown the memory of -their crime, that he burst into the hall, knocking down the porter who -would have shut him out, unpacked his young heart of its indignation -before the whole company, and with three blows of a “mace” laid his -stepfather senseless before them all. Thus did this seven-year-old -princeling show a resolution that might well put Hamlet to shame; and as -he was so terrible with a stick, we may guess what feats he would -perform when it got to sword-play.</p> - -<p>The guilty mother was so much displeased by such conduct, that she -punished her precociously brave child by sending him to be sold for a -slave in heathen lands. Thereby he came into the hands of a Saracen king -named Ermyn, whose daughter, Josyan, at once fell in love with the young -captive, according to the romantic precedent followed in such cases down -to the days of Pocahontas. Ermyn, too, recognising the boy’s quality at -a glance, proposed to make him his heir and son-in-law on condition of -his abjuring Christianity. But the heroes of old were as orthodox as -gallant. Bevis, though not yet in his teens, lifted up such a bold -testimony against the errors of Mahound, that the king saw well to drop -the subject, and for the present took him on as page, promising him -further advancement in the course of time. Still no amount of friendly -intercourse with unbelievers could shake the youngster’s faith. He had -reached the age of fifteen, when certain Saracen knights rashly ventured -to touch on his religion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span> whereupon he slew them all, some sixty or so, -with remarkable ease. Ermyn forgave him for this once, and Josyan with -kisses and salves soon cured him of his wounds; then, in return for -their kindness, he obligingly rid them of a fearful wild boar that had -long been the terror of the country.</p> - -<p>These petty exploits had made merely the work of our hero’s ’prentice -hand; the time was now come for him to be dubbed a knight, presented on -the occasion with a marvellous sword called “Morglay,” and the best -horse in the world, by name “Arundel.” Ermyn had soon need of a peerless -champion. Bradmond, King of Damascus, was demanding Josyan’s hand, with -threats to lay waste the land if his suit were refused; but a lad of -mettle like Bevis, of course, found no difficulty in laying low that -proud Paynim and all his host. Josyan was so lost in admiration of such -prowess, that she proposed to her Christian knight after a somewhat -unmaidenly fashion; but Bevis would give her no encouragement till, for -his sake, she professed herself ready to renounce the Moslem faith.</p> - -<p>But when the king heard how his daughter was being converted to -Christianity, his patience came to an end. Not daring to use open -violence against the invincible youth, he sent him on an embassy to King -Bradmond, his late adversary, who at the point of Bevis’ sword had -lately sworn to be Ermyn’s vassal, and was now commanded, on his -allegiance, to secure the bearer of the sealed letter which Bevis -carried to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span> his own destruction. The author of <i>Hamlet</i> may have taken -another hint from this incident. But our impetuous knight needed no -treacherous credentials to get him into trouble. At Damascus he found a -crowd of Saracens worshipping an idol, which his sound principles moved -him to knock over into the mud with proper contempt: the Mohammedans, -whatever their doctrinal shortcomings might be, were, as a matter of -fact, strongly set against idolatry, but Christian minstrels allowed -themselves a poetical license on such points. King Bradmond and all his -men, backed by the fanatical population of Damascus, were odds too great -even for a pious hero. Bevis, fairly overpowered for once, was thrown -into a dungeon with two ravenous dragons to keep him company. It was -only a matter of some twenty-four hours’ combat for him to kill the -dragons with the butt-end of a staff that came to his hand; but hunger -proved a sorer enemy. Now we have the two most familiar lines of this -long poem, as quoted in <i>King Lear</i>—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rats and mice and such small deer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were his meat for seven long year.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>At the end of seven years, he escaped by something like a miracle, and -after visiting Jerusalem, rode off to Josyan, whom he found still -faithful to him at heart, though formally the bride of an outrageous -heathen, the King of Mounbraunt. To his castle Bevis proceeded, not -without blood-curdling adventures<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span> on the way, and introduced himself as -a poor palmer, welcomed for the sake of her Christian lover by Josyan, -though she did not recognise him so soon as did his good horse Arundel, -that in its vehement excitement at his voice outdoes the fidelity of -Argus; then his springing on its back without touching a stirrup reveals -him like the bending of Ulysses’ bow. Having got the king out of the way -by means of a somewhat unchivalrous fib, Bevis and Josyan eloped -together, meeting encounters which showed how little his long -imprisonment had unsteeled the paladin’s sinews. His first feat was to -kill a brace of lions at one blow; and next he fell in with a giant -named Ascapard who, wounded all over his thirty feet of length, was glad -to save his life by becoming Bevis’ page.</p> - -<p>It was now high time for our hero to be turning homewards. Several years -back, before his imprisonment, he had casually fallen in with one of his -cousins, sent to search him out and bring him to the immediate -assistance of his uncle Saber, who had fled to the Isle of Wight for -refuge from the tyrant Murdour. As the first stage of his journey, Bevis -proceeded by sea to Cologne, where the bishop happened to be another -uncle of his, so he took the opportunity to have Josyan and Ascapard -christened, the latter behaving most irreverently under the rite, so as -to play the part of a mediæval gargoyle in the edifying story. The -bishop, for his part, used the opportunity of having such a champion at -hand to destroy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span> a fiery dragon that infested the country; and in return -for this service of some little difficulty, equipped Sir Bevis with a -hundred knights, at the head of whom he landed in Hampshire, leaving -Josyan at Cologne with Ascapard in attendance.</p> - -<p>Under an assumed name, so grown and sun-tanned that his own mother -treated the stranger politely, he now introduced himself into the house -of Sir Murdour, undertaking to serve him against Saber, but playing a -trick on him in the way of carrying off his best horses and arms to the -enemy. Before coming to an end with that caitiff, however, Bevis had to -return to Cologne to rescue Josyan from certain perils she had got into -through her devotion to him; then at last they both joined his uncle in -the Isle of Wight. The local Macbeth’s fate now drew to its fifth act. -In vain he summoned to his aid both a Scotch and a German army. When he -had to do with such prodigies of strength as Bevis and Ascapard, Murdour -could expect nothing but to be overthrown, captured, and boiled into -hounds’ meat in a great caldron of pitch, brimstone, and lead, as duly -befell at Carisbrooke. His wicked wife, hearing how it had fared with -him, very properly threw herself from the top of a high tower. His -triple army had no more fight in them after the death of their leader, -and the delivered citizens of Southampton hailed with joy their true -lord, who at last thought himself entitled to wed Josyan after so long -and chequered a courtship.</p> - -<p>But the author of this long poem is not yet out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span> breath, and he still -takes his hero through what may be called an appendix of adventures, in -which Bevis once more goes abroad. King Edgar’s son so much admired -Arundel’s form in a horse-race at court, that he tried to steal this -peerless steed, and was kicked to death in the stable for his pains. The -angry father was for having the horse’s master hanged; but the barons -got him off with exile. While wandering homeless, his wife presents him -with twin sons, as fresh hostages to their troubled fortune. Ascapard -now turns unfaithful, and steals Josyan from him to restore her to her -Saracen husband; but after a separation of seven years or so all comes -right again, unbelievers and traitors are duly slain as they deserve, -and Bevis meets no further check in his triumphant career of baptising -heathen lands in blood, if not otherwise. Meanwhile, in his absence, -King Edgar spitefully did him further wrong by confiscating the family -estate, which the nephew had handed over to Saber. This injury must be -redressed by a visit of Bevis to London, where his exploits seem hardly -historical. He had now two sturdy sons to back him up, and these being -chips of the old block, they easily contrived to kill sixty thousand -people in a battle fought about Cheapside and Ludgate Hill, which -brought the king to a reasonable mood.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So many men at once were never seen dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the water of Thames for blood wax red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From St Mary Bowe to London Stone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span></p> - -<p>In short, one of Bevis’ sons won the crown of England, with the hand of -its heiress; the brother was provided with a kingdom abroad; and Bevis -himself returned to another of his foreign dominions, to live happily -ever afterwards till, at a good old age, he, Josyan, and Arundel died -within a few minutes of each other, the knight and his true lady -sumptuously buried in a church, where even his dead body continued to -work miracles.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus ended Bevis of Hampton<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That was so bold a baron.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Have I said enough to persuade strangers that they are wrong in not -stopping at Southampton on a visit to the tourist-haunted Island? To -Americans this port should be of special interest, as hence sailed the -<i>Mayflower</i> and the <i>Speedwell</i>, freighted with the hopes of a New -England, but the smaller vessel proving unseaworthy, the adventurers, -all packed on board the <i>Mayflower</i>, finally embarked at Plymouth, which -thus gets credit for the departure of an expedition that really set out -from Delft Haven, winged by the parting charge of its large-minded -pastor. I had the pleasure of recommending a stay at Southampton West to -Mr W. D. Howells, who in a recent book owns to having enjoyed it; and -indeed there is more to be seen and enjoyed in or about Southampton than -at many places better famed in the tourist world.</p> - -<p>On the west side of Southampton Water, through<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span> outskirts of the New -Forest, is soon reached the Boldre River, near the mouth of which stands -Lymington, a town before mentioned as pier of the shortest crossing to -the Island, at its Yarmouth end, where it has been proposed to make a -tunnel from the spit on which Hurst Castle rises. Of Lymington there is -not much else to be said, but that it has a look of having come down in -the world, its trade of shipbuilding not being what it once was, though -the estuary still makes a station for yachts. From the open sea it is -separated by flats, that were utilised as salterns. The scenery in the -background is more taking, where the edge of the New Forest plantations -is soon reached over the heathy swells of Sway Common.</p> - -<p>Westward, the crumbling cliffs of the coast are fringed by groups of -hotels and lodging-houses growing along Christchurch Bay to Highcliffe -Castle, which was recently selected as <i>Kur-ort</i> for the Kaiser, who -here seems to have profited by the mild air and by the views of the Isle -of Wight that are the chief attraction of this shore. He may also have -admired the prospect on Hengistbury Head, which some stories make the -scene of the first German invasion of England. Then beyond the mouth of -the Stour and Avon, are reached the purlieus of Bournemouth, where the -Island drops out of sight.</p> - -<p>On the other side, between Lymington and Southampton Water, extends to -the Solent a heathy projection<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span> of the New Forest, not so much known to -strangers as it deserves. The centre of interest here is the ruined -Beaulieu Abbey, from the materials of which Henry VIII. is said to have -built Hurst Castle, while its foundation is the one good deed recorded -of King John, and that wrung out of him with as much pain as was Magna -Charta. The legend goes that this graceless king, bearing a grudge -against the Cistercian Order, had persuaded or compelled its abbots to -attend a parliament at Lincoln, where he threatened to fling them under -the feet of wild horses. But at night he was terrified by a dream: -brought to trial before a nameless judge, with the churchmen he had -menaced for witnesses against him, he found himself condemned to a -severe scourging at their hands, like his father’s chastisement for the -death of Thomas à Becket. And lo! when he awoke, the lashes had left no -visionary smart. So he saw wise to make expiation for the sacrilege he -had meditated; then his repentance took the established form of building -and endowing a Cistercian Abbey at Beaulieu. The remains still make a -hoary show by the Beaulieu River, further down which Buckler’s Hard was -once a building place of men-of-war; and at the mouth was an old ferry -to the Island. There is not much traffic now about this muddy shore, -near which, towards Lymington, Sowley Pond takes rank as the largest -Hampshire lake. The Solent, here locked in by the Isle of Wight, has the -aspect of a great lake in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span> views that Cobbett took to bear out the title -<i>Bellus locus</i>, vernacularly corrupted into <i>Bewley</i>. And, as I have -given a catalogue of novels dealing with the Island, let me mention an -excellent one, Mr A. Marshall’s <i>Exton Manor</i>, which clearly has for its -scene this edge of the New Forest.</p> - -<p>The chief Solent ferry is, of course, at Portsmouth, whereof tourists -might do well to see more than is seen from the railway line to its -pier, the main knot of Isle of Wight communications, while by Gosport -and Southsea, on either side of the town, are alternative crossings to -Ryde. Portsmouth is not so rich in antiquities as Southampton, its most -notable buildings being the fine modern Church of Portsea, one of the -grandest town-halls in England, and the largest Naval Barracks in the -world; but it is an ancient place, interesting as our chief marine -arsenal, which in case of war might become a Sebastopol or a Port -Arthur. Like Plymouth, it is rather a group of towns, Portsmouth, -Portsea, and Southsea, run together beside the wide inlet of the -harbour, on the other side of which stands Gosport. Naturally it has a -marked naval flavour, strongest on the Hard, familiar to so many -generations of Jacks and Sues, behind which the narrow main street of -Landport makes such a lively scene of a Saturday night. Off Gosport Hard -is moored the old <i>Victory</i>, whose deck no Briton can tread without -pride, nor would a generous enemy be unmoved on the spot where “mighty -Nelson fell,” and in the gloomy cockpit<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span> where he died. Portsmouth has -for another shrine the birthplace of Charles Dickens, at No. 387 -Commercial Road, Landport, now cared for as public property and -containing a collection of relics. Walter Besant was also a native, who -has celebrated the scenes of his boyhood in <i>Celia’s Arbour</i>.</p> - -<p>The great sight is the Dockyard, over which all visitors who can glory -in the name of Briton are conducted by its garrison of Metropolitan -Police; but foreigners must bring special credentials for admission. A -visit to the <i>enceinte</i> of fortifications cannot be recommended, as -these are of a modestly retiring disposition, and make a purposed blank -on the faithful Ordnance Survey maps. Beyond the fort-crowned Downs -behind, some fine country may be reached by tram; but the scenery of the -low island on which Portsmouth has its site, too much consists of -bastions, barracks, prisons, and other useful, but unlovely -institutions.</p> - -<p>Southsea, the moral West End of Portsmouth, which is at its east end, -holds out most attractions to tarrying strangers. It seems a favourite -place of residence or sojourn for retired or idle officers of both -services, who enjoy the stir of parades and regimental bands, and the -view of the Solent always alive with yachts, steamers, and men-of-war; -but it is not so well adapted for a quiet family bathing-place, unless -to the taste of nursery maids, who here would be well off for red-coated -and blue-jacketed “followers.” A special feature is the wide Common -cutting off the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span> houses from the sea-front, with its gay piers and long -esplanade leading round the modernised walls of Southsea Castle. Hence -let us take our last gaze upon the wooded shores of the Isle of Wight, -where, four or five miles off across the Solent, Ryde steeple stands up -as the starting-point of our arm-chair tour, now to be ended, I trust, -with the reader’s gratuity of good-will towards his <i>cicerone</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2> - - - -<p class="c"><a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#E">E</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#Q">Q</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#U">U</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Y">Y</a>, -<a href="#Z">Z</a></p> - -<p class="nind"> -<a name="A" id="A"></a><span class="smcap">Adams</span>, Rev. W., <a href="#page_084">84</a><br /> - -Afton Down, <a href="#page_103">103</a><br /> - -Albert, Prince, <a href="#page_107">107</a>, <a href="#page_151">151</a><br /> - -Alexandrian Pillar, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -<i>All Moonshine</i>, <a href="#page_137">137</a><br /> - -Alum Bay, <a href="#page_115">115</a><br /> - -Alverston, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -<i>Amours Anglais</i>, <a href="#page_128">128</a><br /> - -Approaches to Island, <a href="#page_017">17</a>, <a href="#page_154">154</a><br /> - -Appuldurcombe, <a href="#page_052">52</a><br /> - -Arnold of Rugby, <a href="#page_148">148</a><br /> - -Arreton, <a href="#page_057">57</a><br /> - -Ashey Down, <a href="#page_057">57</a><br /> - -Atherfield Point, <a href="#page_099">99</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="B" id="B"></a><span class="smcap">Back</span> of the Island, <a href="#page_077">77</a>, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -Badd, E., Epitaph on, <a href="#page_031">31</a><br /> - -Barton Manor-house, <a href="#page_150">150</a><br /> - -Battenberg, Prince of, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_151">151</a><br /> - -Battenberg, Princess Beatrice, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_046">46</a>, <a href="#page_152">152</a><br /> - -Beaulieu, <a href="#page_168">168</a><br /> - -Bembridge, <a href="#page_060">60</a><br /> - -Bembridge Down, <a href="#page_061">61</a><br /> - -Benedictine Monks, <a href="#page_027">27</a>, <a href="#page_053">53</a><br /> - -Benson, story of, <a href="#page_064">64</a><br /> - -Bevis of Hampton, romance, <a href="#page_041">41</a>, <a href="#page_158">158</a><br /> - -Binstead, <a href="#page_025">25</a><br /> - -Black, William, <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_090">90</a><br /> - -Blackgang Chine, <a href="#page_097">97</a><br /> - -“Blue Slipper,” the, <a href="#page_077">77</a><br /> - -Bonchurch, <a href="#page_083">83</a><br /> - -Bordwood Forest, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -Bouldnor Cliffs, <a href="#page_123">123</a><br /> - -Brading, <a href="#page_054">54</a><br /> - -Brighstone or Brixton, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Brook Point, <a href="#page_102">102</a><br /> - -Buddle Inn, <a href="#page_089">89</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="C" id="C"></a><span class="smcap">Calbourne</span>, <a href="#page_124">124</a><br /> - -Cameron, Mrs, <a href="#page_106">106</a><br /> - -Captains of the Island, <a href="#page_008">8</a><br /> - -Carisbrooke, <a href="#page_036">36</a><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—— Castle, <a href="#page_039">39</a></span><br /> - -Caves at Freshwater, <a href="#page_112">112</a><br /> - -Chale, <a href="#page_098">98</a><br /> - -Chale Bay, <a href="#page_096">96</a><br /> - -Charles I., imprisonment of, <a href="#page_041">41</a><br /> - -Chines, formation of, <a href="#page_074">74</a><br /> - -Clarke, Sir James, <a href="#page_078">78</a><br /> - -Climate, <a href="#page_014">14</a><br /> - -Colepeper, Lord, <a href="#page_009">9</a><br /> - -Colwell Bay, <a href="#page_118">118</a><br /> - -Compton Bay, <a href="#page_102">102</a><br /> - -Consumption Hospital, <a href="#page_088">88</a><br /> - -Cook’s Castle, <a href="#page_074">74</a><br /> - -Cowes, <a href="#page_139">139</a><br /> - -Cripple Path, the, <a href="#page_089">89</a><br /> - -Culver Cliffs, <a href="#page_061">61</a><br /> - -<br /> -<i><a name="D" id="D"></a>Dairyman’s Daughter, The</i>, <a href="#page_058">58</a><br /> - -Davenant’s <i>Gondibert</i>, <a href="#page_145">145</a><br /> - -De Montague, “Count.” <i>See</i> Benson<br /> - -Dewar, Mr G. A. B., <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_029">29</a><br /> - -Downs, the, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_048">48</a>, <a href="#page_053">53</a>, <a href="#page_062">62</a>, <a href="#page_082">82</a>, <a href="#page_092">92</a>, etc.<br /> - -Dunnose, <a href="#page_075">75</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="E" id="E"></a><span class="smcap">East</span> Cowes, <a href="#page_148">148</a><br /> - -Egypt Point, <a href="#page_146">146</a><br /> - -Elizabeth, Princess, <a href="#page_035">35</a>, <a href="#page_044">44</a><br /> - -Empress Eugenie, escape of, <a href="#page_023">23</a><br /> - -Englefield, Sir Henry, <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_022">22</a>, <a href="#page_098">98</a>, <a href="#page_115">115</a><br /> - -<i>Eurydice</i>, loss of the, <a href="#page_075">75</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="F" id="F"></a><span class="smcap">Fairfax</span> family in America, <a href="#page_010">10</a><br /> - -Farringford, <a href="#page_106">106</a><br /> - -Fielding at Ryde, <a href="#page_020">20</a><br /> - -Fishbourne, <a href="#page_027">27</a><br /> - -Fitz-Osborne, William, <a href="#page_007">7</a><br /> - -<i>Flora Vectensis</i>, <a href="#page_016">16</a><br /> - -Foghorns, <a href="#page_094">94</a><br /> - -Foreland, the, <a href="#page_060">60</a><br /> - -Fossil Forest, <a href="#page_102">102</a><br /> - -Freshwater, <a href="#page_104">104</a><br /> - -Freshwater Bay, <a href="#page_104">104</a>, <a href="#page_112">112</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="G" id="G"></a><span class="smcap">Garde</span> Family, <a href="#page_050">50</a><br /> - -Gatcombe, <a href="#page_053">53</a><br /> - -Geology of the Island, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_100">100</a><br /> - -Gloucester, Duke of, <a href="#page_044">44</a><br /> - -Godshill, <a href="#page_049">49</a><br /> - -Gosport, <a href="#page_169">169</a><br /> - -Governors of the Island, <a href="#page_010">10</a><br /> - -Grange Chine, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Gurnard Bay, <a href="#page_048">48</a>, <a href="#page_147">147</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="H" id="H"></a><span class="smcap">Hammond</span>, Colonel, <a href="#page_041">41</a><br /> - -Hamstead Ledges, <a href="#page_123">123</a><br /> - -Harringford, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -Haven Street, <a href="#page_028">28</a><br /> - -Headon Hill, <a href="#page_117">117</a><br /> - -Highcliffe Castle, <a href="#page_167">167</a><br /> - -History of Island, <a href="#page_005">5</a><br /> - -Holmes, O. W., <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_015">15</a><br /> - -Holmes, Sir Robert, <a href="#page_120">120</a><br /> - -Hopson, Sir T., <a href="#page_121">121</a><br /> - -Horsey, Sir E., <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_013">13</a>, <a href="#page_034">34</a><br /> - -Howells, Mr W. D., <a href="#page_081">81</a>, <a href="#page_166">166</a><br /> - -Hulverston, <a href="#page_102">102</a><br /> - -Hurst Castle, <a href="#page_044">44</a>, <a href="#page_118">118</a>, <a href="#page_167">167</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="I-i" id="I-i"></a><span class="smcap">Industries</span> of the Island, <a href="#page_013">13</a><br /> - -Invasion, alarms of, <a href="#page_095">95</a>, <a href="#page_122">122</a><br /> - -Isabella de Fortibus, <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="J" id="J"></a><span class="smcap">James</span>, Rev. E. B., <a href="#page_038">38</a>, <a href="#page_056">56</a><br /> - -<i>Jane the Young Cottager</i>, <a href="#page_055">55</a><br /> - -Jeffrey, Lord, <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_073">73</a><br /> - -John, King, <a href="#page_149">149</a>, <a href="#page_155">155</a>, <a href="#page_168">168</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="K" id="K"></a><span class="smcap">Keats</span> in the Island, <a href="#page_047">47</a>, <a href="#page_073">73</a><br /> - -Ken, Bishop, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -King of the Island, <a href="#page_008">8</a><br /> - -King’s Quay, <a href="#page_149">149</a><br /> - -Kingston, <a href="#page_100">100</a><br /> - -Knighton, <a href="#page_058">58</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="L" id="L"></a><span class="smcap">Ladder</span> Chine, <a href="#page_099">99</a><br /> - -Lake, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -Landslip, the, <a href="#page_085">85</a><br /> - -Lira, Monks of, <a href="#page_007">7</a><br /> - -Lisle Family, <a href="#page_027">27</a><br /> - -Longfellow in the Island, <a href="#page_073">73</a><br /> - -Long Stone, the, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -“Lot’s Wife,” <a href="#page_114">114</a><br /> - -Luccombe Chine, <a href="#page_075">75</a><br /> - -Lugley Stream, the, <a href="#page_033">33</a><br /> - -Lymington, <a href="#page_017">17</a>, <a href="#page_119">119</a>, <a href="#page_167">167</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="M" id="M"></a><span class="smcap">Main</span> Bench, the, <a href="#page_113">113</a><br /> - -Mantell the geologist, <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_102">102</a><br /> - -Medina River, <a href="#page_003">3</a>, <a href="#page_034">34</a>, <a href="#page_048">48</a>, <a href="#page_139">139</a><br /> - -Meredith, Mr George, <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_126">126</a><br /> - -Merston Junction, <a href="#page_049">49</a>, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -Military Road, the, <a href="#page_100">100</a><br /> - -Moberley, Bishop, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Monks’ Bay, <a href="#page_084">84</a><br /> - -Morland, George, <a href="#page_122">122</a><br /> - -Morley, Henry, <a href="#page_039">39</a><br /> - -Mottistone, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="N" id="N"></a><span class="smcap">Naval</span> College at Osborne, <a href="#page_153">153</a><br /> - -Needles, the, <a href="#page_114">114</a><br /> - -Netley, <a href="#page_154">154</a><br /> - -Nettleston Green, <a href="#page_031">31</a><br /> - -Newchurch, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -New Forest, the, <a href="#page_157">157</a><br /> - -Newport, <a href="#page_033">33</a><br /> - -Newton, <a href="#page_123">123</a><br /> - -Niton, <a href="#page_090">90</a><br /> - -“Noah’s Nuts,” <a href="#page_111">111</a><br /> - -Nodes, the, <a href="#page_113">113</a><br /> - -Norris Castle, <a href="#page_149">149</a><br /> - -Northwood, <a href="#page_147">147</a><br /> - -Novels about the Island, <a href="#page_125">125</a><br /> - -Nuns from abroad, <a href="#page_147">147</a><br /> - -Nunwell, <a href="#page_055">55</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="O" id="O"></a><span class="smcap">Oglander</span>, Sir John, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_026">26</a>, <a href="#page_031">31</a>, <a href="#page_047">47</a>, <a href="#page_050">50</a>, <a href="#page_054">54</a>, <a href="#page_139">139</a><br /> - -Osborne, <a href="#page_149">149</a><br /> - -Osborne, Dorothy, <a href="#page_038">38</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="P" id="P"></a><span class="smcap">Pan</span> Down, <a href="#page_049">49</a><br /> - -Parkhurst Forest, <a href="#page_046">46</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a><br /> - -Peel’s <i>Fair Isle</i>, <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_100">100</a><br /> - -Population of Island, <a href="#page_004">4</a><br /> - -Portsmouth, <a href="#page_017">17</a>, <a href="#page_169">169</a><br /> - -Pound Green, <a href="#page_106">106</a><br /> - -Priory Bay, <a href="#page_031">31</a><br /> - -Puckaster Cove, <a href="#page_089">89</a><br /> - -Puckpool Fort, <a href="#page_030">30</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="Q" id="Q"></a><span class="smcap">Quarr</span> Abbey, <a href="#page_025">25</a><br /> - -Queen’s Bower, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="R" id="R"></a><span class="smcap">Railways</span> of Island, <a href="#page_017">17</a>, <a href="#page_033">33</a><br /> - -<i>Ralph Roister Doister</i>, <a href="#page_124">124</a><br /> - -Redvers Family, <a href="#page_007">7</a>, <a href="#page_025">25</a><br /> - -Rew Down, <a href="#page_083">83</a><br /> - -Reynolds, J. H., <a href="#page_035">35</a><br /> - -Richmond, Rev. Legh, <a href="#page_055">55</a><br /> - -Rocken End, <a href="#page_096">96</a><br /> - -Roman villas, <a href="#page_006">6</a><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—— Brading, <a href="#page_057">57</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—— Carisbrooke, <a href="#page_039">39</a></span><br /> - -Ross, Alexander, <a href="#page_038">38</a><br /> - -Rowborough remains, <a href="#page_048">48</a><br /> - -<i>Royal George</i>, loss of, <a href="#page_022">22</a><br /> - -Royal Yacht Squadron, <a href="#page_144">144</a><br /> - -Ryde, <a href="#page_019">19</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="S" id="S"></a><span class="smcap">St</span> Boniface Down, <a href="#page_082">82</a><br /> - -St Catherine’s Down, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -St Catherine’s Point Lighthouse, <a href="#page_093">93</a><br /> - -St George’s Down, <a href="#page_048">48</a><br /> - -St Helens, <a href="#page_031">31</a>, <a href="#page_059">59</a><br /> - -St John’s, <a href="#page_028">28</a><br /> - -St Lawrence, <a href="#page_088">88</a><br /> - -Sandown, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -Sandrock, <a href="#page_090">90</a><br /> - -School Green, <a href="#page_106">106</a><br /> - -Scott, Sir W., <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_048">48</a><br /> - -Scottish Soldiers in Island, <a href="#page_047">47</a><br /> - -Scratchell’s Bay, <a href="#page_113">113</a><br /> - -Sea View, <a href="#page_028">28</a><br /> - -Seismological Observatory, Dr Milne’s, <a href="#page_049">49</a><br /> - -Sewell, Elizabeth, <a href="#page_016">16</a>, <a href="#page_084">84</a><br /> - -Shanklin, <a href="#page_072">72</a><br /> - -Sheepwash Green, <a href="#page_106">106</a><br /> - -Shide, <a href="#page_049">49</a><br /> - -Shipwrecks, <a href="#page_096">96</a><br /> - -Shorwell, <a href="#page_100">100</a><br /> - -Simeon, Sir John, <a href="#page_036">36</a><br /> - -Solent, the, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_028">28</a>, <a href="#page_143">143</a>, <a href="#page_154">154</a>, <a href="#page_168">168</a>, <a href="#page_170">170</a><br /> - -Solent Tunnel, proposed, <a href="#page_120">120</a><br /> - -Southampton, <a href="#page_017">17</a>, <a href="#page_155">155</a><br /> - -Southsea, <a href="#page_170">170</a><br /> - -Spithead, <a href="#page_022">22</a><br /> - -Spring Vale, <a href="#page_030">30</a><br /> - -“Squadron,” the, <a href="#page_144">144</a><br /> - -Steephill Castle, <a href="#page_081">81</a><br /> - -Stephens, William, <a href="#page_038">38</a><br /> - -Sterling, John, <a href="#page_084">84</a><br /> - -Swainston, <a href="#page_124">124</a><br /> - -Swinburne, Mr A. C., <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_089">89</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="T" id="T"></a><span class="smcap">Temple</span>, Sir W., <a href="#page_039">39</a><br /> - -Tennyson, Lady, <a href="#page_110">110</a><br /> - -Tennyson, Lord, <a href="#page_014">14</a>, <a href="#page_106">106</a>, <a href="#page_111">111</a>, <a href="#page_148">148</a><br /> - -Totland Bay, <a href="#page_117">117</a><br /> - -“Turf Frauds” case, the, <a href="#page_070">70</a><br /> - -Tyndall, Professor, <a href="#page_113">113</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="U" id="U"></a><span class="smcap">Udall</span>, Nicholas, <a href="#page_124">124</a><br /> - -Undercliff, the, <a href="#page_077">77</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="V-i" id="V-i"></a><span class="smcap">Vane</span>, Sir H., <a href="#page_044">44</a><br /> - -Ventnor, <a href="#page_078">78</a><br /> - -Victoria, Queen, <a href="#page_149">149</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="W" id="W"></a><span class="smcap">Walpen</span> Chine, <a href="#page_099">99</a><br /> - -Ward, W. G., <a href="#page_147">147</a><br /> - -Wardens of the Island, <a href="#page_008">8</a><br /> - -Webster, T., <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_085">85</a>, <a href="#page_116">116</a><br /> - -Week Down, <a href="#page_083">83</a>, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -Whippingham, <a href="#page_151">151</a><br /> - -Whitecliff Bay, <a href="#page_061">61</a><br /> - -Whitwell, <a href="#page_053">53</a><br /> - -Wilberforce, Bishop, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -“Wilderness,” the, <a href="#page_048">48</a><br /> - -Wilfred of Selsey, <a href="#page_007">7</a>, <a href="#page_056">56</a><br /> - -Wilkes, John, <a href="#page_063">63</a><br /> - -William the Conqueror at Carisbrooke, <a href="#page_007">7</a><br /> - -Wishing Well, <a href="#page_082">82</a><br /> - -Woodvile, Sir E., <a href="#page_008">8</a><br /> - -Wootton, <a href="#page_027">27</a><br /> - -Wordsworth in the Island, <a href="#page_112">112</a><br /> - -Worsley Family, the, <a href="#page_049">49</a><br /> - -Worsley, Sir R., <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_052">52</a><br /> - -Worsley Monument, <a href="#page_053">53</a><br /> - -Wroxall, <a href="#page_075">75</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="Y" id="Y"></a><span class="smcap">Yar</span>, the Eastern, <a href="#page_003">3</a>, <a href="#page_059">59</a>, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -Yar, the Western, <a href="#page_003">3</a>, <a href="#page_104">104</a>, <a href="#page_118">118</a><br /> - -Yachting, <a href="#page_142">142</a><br /> - -Yarborough, Lord, <a href="#page_052">52</a><br /> - -Yarbridge, <a href="#page_057">57</a><br /> - -Yarmouth, <a href="#page_119">119</a><br /> - -Yaverland, <a href="#page_061">61</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="Z" id="Z"></a><span class="smcap">Zangwill</span>, Mr I., <i>quoted</i>, <a href="#page_126">126</a><br /> -</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><a name="map" id="map"></a> -<a href="images/map_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/map_sml.jpg" width="500" height="340" alt="Image unavailable: [Image of the map unavailable.]" /></a> -<br /><span class="nonvis"><a href="images/map_lg.jpg">[larger version (670kb)]</a> -<a href="images/map_huge.jpg">[largest version (1mb)]</a></span> -</div> - -<p class="c"><small>PRINTED BY OLIVER AND BOYD, EDINBURGH</small> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i269_sml.png" width="500" height="228" alt="Image unavailable: BLACK’S BEAUTIFUL BOOKS" title="" - class="imgnb" /> -</div> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="c"> -ALL WITH FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR<br /> -<br /> -THE <b>20s.</b> SERIES<br /> -<br /> -ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED<br /> -<br /> -Size 9×6¼ ins.<br /> -<br /> -Painted and Described by<br /> -<span class="smcap">Frances E. 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The -books themselves may be obtained through any Bookseller at home or -abroad.</i></p> - -<p class="c"> -☛ PUBLISHED BY A. AND C. BLACK · SOHO SQUARE · LONDON · W.<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/back.jpg" width="357" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: " title="" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="cb">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The poet adds a footnote of facts. “The ship, when first -she filled, fell over so as to dip the flag at her masthead into the -sea. Then rolling back, she fell over to the other side till her -yard-arms touched the water. She then righted, and sunk nearly upright. -While she was sinking, nearly every soul on board came on deck; and I -was told by Admiral Sotheby, then a lieutenant on board the next ship, -that as she went down, this mass of people gave a cry so lamentable, -that it was still ringing in his ears. It was supposed that at the time -of the accident, above a thousand persons, men and women, were on board; -not four hundred were saved. The eddy made by the sinking ship was so -great that a large victualling barge which lay alongside was drawn in, -and lost with her.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The <i>Errata</i> volume of the D.N.B. does penance for a -curious slip in its account of this half-forgotten worthy, where the -Shepherd’s Bush Public Library is stated to be a joint-memorial to him -and to Charles Keene. I was so struck by this odd conjunction of patron -saints, that I made a pilgrimage of veridification to their reputed -shrine, and found it was <i>Leigh Hunt’s</i> memory that has been not so -unequally yoked together with the <i>Punch</i> artist’s.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> There is a model of this broken corner of the shore on the -ground floor of the Geological Museum in Jermyn Street, but hardly on a -large enough scale to display its beauty.</p></div> - - -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Isle of Wight, by A. R. 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