From The Fortnightly Review. . THE NEW FOREST: A SKETCH. land, and although vast sums of public money have been expended upon it of late years by a department unrepresented in Parliament, the forest should have escaped for some time past the watchful eye of the THE remark has often been made, that, political philosopher and economist. But although a nation of tourists, the English the fact must be admitted, that since 1848 are strangely apt to overlook the claims little information on this subject had of their own country upon their attention, reached Parliament, until the appeal of its exceptional variety of atmosphere, con- the foresters against the official report pretour, and vegetation notwithstanding. It sented to the House of Lords in 1868 led is, therefore, the less surprising that a to an inquiry of very limited scope, by a sequestered district like the New Forest committee of the Upper House in the same should be comparatively little known, and year. The New Forest, being thus out of its value to the nation in general, whether sight and out of mind, has been committed from an æsthetic or an economical point of to the tender mercies of the Department view, imperfectly recognized. Travellers of Woods, and within the last twenty years by the South-Western Railway often ad- several thousand acres have been cleared, mire, upon the heaths of Surrey and Sus- enclosed, and planted, at the sacrifice of sex, isolated patches of wild woodland, some of its grandest old woods, and of the where scattered oaks and beeches overtop wild picturesqueness of whole districts. groups of holly that rise amidst heather Instead of the varied intermixture of moor and fern, but are seldom aware that the and wood, and the groups of oak, beech, objects of their admiration are only sam- and holly scattered over the open spaceз ples of New Forest woodland. And when between the pervious woods, monotonous traversing the dreary bogs and wastes, plantations of Scotch fir are gradually adroitly sold to the Southampton and overspreading the soil and obliterating its Dorchester Railway Company, few observ- undulations. Ditches, banks, and fences ers would suspect that scenery of unusual of hoop-iron how check the wanderer, and beauty lies concealed from view on either the old timber is gradually falling before hand. Yet, hard by, landscapes unfold themselves from the elevated moorland, comprising grand undulations, far-reaching woods, an arm of the sea and island downs beyond, and illustrating, to an unusual degree, owing to their extent and aspect, the rich variety and exquisite graduation of colour that characterize our maritime climate. Nor does the ordinary visitor judge the forest aright. Its woodland is of an unobtrusive, domestic character, and, to be fully appreciated, should be studied lingeringly and in detail, at different seasons and under varied skies. Meanwhile, the usual passports to notoriety would seem to have been denied; no nature-loving writer has made it share his fame, and the New Forest is still almost unknown to art. It is tantalizing to think that such congenial scenery should have been unseen by Crome and other English landscapists, and that Nasmyth, who lacked neither the opportunity nor the skill to do it justice, should have been content to paint the mere wayside relics of the ancient forest, oases in the expanse of tillage on its western boundary. But strange as it may seem that the New Forest should have remained unexplored by the pleasure-seeker or the artist, it is yet more surprising that, although it is the largest unenclosed district in Eng LIVING AGE. VOL. XXI. 970 the axe, to be succeeded eventually by a wearisome uniformity of well-managed nurseries of oak. The damage done is irreparable; but there is yet time to plead for the remnant which is left. A detailed account of the state of the New Forest, and of the questions involved in its fate, would fill a volume; it is, therefore, proposed in the following pages merely to sketch in rude outline the salient features of its scenery, and to trace the causes and progress of the changes which have taken place in its appearance, in their order. The reader will thus be enabled to gather a general idea of what the New Forest has been, of what it now is, and of what it must inevitably become unless Parliament intervene; and will realize some of the difficulties which beset any attempt to preserve the last relics of its primitive beauty. The descriptions have necessarily been drawn from memory, but pains have been taken to insure their accuracy; the sources whence the general information has been taken are indicated with more or less precision in the course of the paper.* * When this sketch was almost complete, a pam phlet was published by H. T. J. Jenkinson, Esq., of Lincoln's Inn, Barrister-at-Law (Ridgway, 169, Piction of the Old Timber, the Open Commons, and cadilly), entitled The New Forest: the Preserva The boundaries of the New Forest have | may serve to suggest and explain the intinever been accurately ascertained; but mate connection between the physical it may be described, in general terms, as features of the region and the distribution occupying the centre of a district con- of its vegetation. The valleys and the ver tained between the Avon, the southern-etation increase together; as the stream most tributary of the Test, and the sea, deepen and enlarges the seed-bed, the barand separated from them by a ring of ren heath loses itself in the broadening manors from one to five miles in breadth. woodland; as the woodland climbs the Its acreage is also uncertain; but the total slope, the oak and the beech give way to area measures about 63,000 acres, of which hollies and thorns, and these, in their turn, 2,089 acres are the demesne lands of the to the gorse and heather of the flats. The Crown; about 27,000 acres are now more nearer to heaven, the humbler the plant. or less covered with wood, natural or Several varieties of heather share with planted; the remainder is moorland. The mosses and lichens the niggard soil of the moors are situate to the south, west, and plains- -a black, peaty earth, which, being north-west, and consists of a series of held together by root-fibres, is cut for tabular plains and heaths, elevated be- fuel and miscalled turf. The patches of tween 100 and 420 feet above the sea-level, earth and a peculiar white gravel thus laid and sloping towards the south at the rate bare harbour a few self-sown fir-trees of 18-34 feet in the mile. The regular- much bitten by the cattle. But this wild ity of the surface is very remarkable; but and heathy scene" is neither lonesome nor the flanks are extensively cut up by the dreary; its commanding height secures descending streams. The plains are con- for it every charm that distant prospects, tinuous, and form the northern and north-exhilarating air, and a sense of unlimited western portion of the forest; their eleva- | freedom can give. The eye ranging wide tion varies from 250 feet to 450 feet, so over the hollow woodland, and Souththat they form its watershed. The heaths, ampton Water or the Solent, rests on which occupy the south, are much lower, the soft outline of the Isle of Wight; the with a mean level of about 100 feet, and view in other directions is bounded by the have been pierced by the streams that far hills of Purbeck, or the nearer downs drain the forest the Avon Water and of Wiltshire, from amongst which rises the rivers of Boldre and Beaulieu. En- the "dim discovered spire" of Salisbury closed between the high moorland and the Cathedral. In summer, the heather and manors that fringe Southampton Water, lies the woodland of the forest a succession of basins with radiating valleys, separated by bold ridges projecting from the highlands, or by isolated hills, often flattopped and covered with gravel. Geologists are of opinion that this portion of the forest has been scooped out of a plateau, continuous with the moors around, by the winter rains, and gradually prepared for the reception of its native wood- or grouped upon its encircling margin of land by the removal of an obstructive cover- close turf, stand all but motionless in the ing of barren gravel. It is needless to en- sunshine — subjects to inspire a Cooper or ter upon geological questions which have a Cuyp. been sufficiently discussed elsewhere; † but this view may well be borne in mind, as a clue to the general appearance and the possible uses of the New Forest. Here it gorse interweave their purple and gold, Gulfed in a world below" The loftiest ridges share the vegetation of the plains from which they project; on others—where a sandy brick-earth is found amongst the gravel — gorse, crabtrees, thorns, hollies, and occasionally Common Rights in the New Forest, a matter of Na-Yews, are scattered in picturesque confutional Interest." Without pledging himself to the sion. On the grooved sides of plain and views of the pamphleteer, the writer would refer ridge, bogs covered with ruddy mosses those readers who desire more detailed information to his work. and furzebrakes break the monotony of the heather, and cup-like hollows shelter clumps of holly and thorn, or a solitary, stunted oak overshadowing a patch of turf or an alder-bed. The woodland of the lower and more denuded ridges is richer and more varied, and perhaps un prospect. In the calm lustre of an October afternoon, few spots, even in the forest, could vie with Highland Water in wealth of warm and harmonious colour. rivalled elsewhere. Of such scenery, Old, standing singly or in groups, measured Sloden was probably the noblest example. out the distance, and displayed the endHollies, yews, and whitebeam of the less variety of the surface. The two large largest growth stood singly or in small beech-woods, placed with indescribable groups, at intervals sufficient for the full taste upon the farthest ridge, and rising in appreciation of their form and colour, and solitary grandeur against the sky, perfected for glimpses of distant landscape. Here the foreground, and set off the distant and there a shapely oak or beech overhung the evergreen clumps, and aged birches or hawthorns studded the open spaces. The forest can still boast many a sunny ridge, bright with bell-heather and It will hardly be credited that modern fern in summer, or dappled with the in- Vandalism has selected this scene for its numerable tints of decay in autumn; but latest and, it is to be hoped, its last we recall no other of similar extent where achievement. The surveyor has undone the trees were so uniformly large and so the work of the artist, and replaced with picturesquely distributed. The red-ber- hard outlines the soft irregularity of Naried whitebeams, too, gave it a special ture. The old beeches have been felled character, particularly when, ruffled by the and sold for firewood; the dimpled holbreeze, they displayed the silver under- lows, bared of their trees, are scored with side of their leaves in contrast with the parallel trenches; the winding stream is sombre foliage of the holly and yew. But become a straight dyke; and a dull moOld Sloden exists no longer; its site was notony of fir plantation will soon cover, one of the first selected for planting under with a not unkindly mantle, the last traces the régime of 1851; all its trees, including, of ruined beauty. It is with a deep sense it is said, more than three hundred ancient of relief that the observer raises his eyes yews, were swept away, and a sea of from this scene of desolation, to contemScotch fir now conceals even the configur-plate the varied effects of light and atmosation of the soil. phere which give a never-failing interest A few woods of beech are found upon to such a landscape, and to the whole of the highlands of the forest, but these are the highland of the forest. Their subtle evidently artificial, and were doubtless beauty is indescribable in words, and placed there to give variety to the land- must be left to the mind's creative eye scape. The sites have been selected with the poverty of language cannot cope with an artist's eye, and it is to be regretted the limitless fancy of Nature; but no one, that these memorials of great opportuni- to whom the plains or the ridge of Stony ties grandly used should not have been Cross is familiar ground, will hesitate to taken as models for imitation. Two such, acknowledge that few localities elsewhere Puckpits and another wood on the same offer a field so favourable for their disridge, were prominent features in the pros-play. pect from Soldiers' Oak on the road between Ringwood and Stony Cross. This landscape, one of the finest in the forest, was too comprehensive for pen or pencil to describe. The view extended over terraced undulations of heath, upon an unbroken but varied woodland and the silver Solent, being closed at length by the blue downs of the Isle of Wight. Not a sign of civilization marred the wildness of the scene. The foreground, a landscape in itself, lay close at the feet of the observer, and combined every characteristic feature of the open forest. Streams, converging from amongst the undulations, united in a grassy bottom overshadowed by isolated oaks and clumps of holly and thorn. On the curving sides of the valley-basin, furze-brakes and beds of fern, and, lower down, hollies and larger trees, * A species of service; the hoar-withy. The slopes that connect the moorland with the timbered lowland partake of the vegetation of both, and form a debatable land between them, where descending tongues of heath interpenetrate the advancing wedges of rough woodland. The exquisite interchange of hill and dale, and the random wild-wood characteristic of this intermediate region, give to New Forest scenery its peculiar beauty. The hardier vegetation of the ridges intermingles with the more lordly growths of the lowland, the hollies and hawthorns aspire to the dignity of trees, and the oak and beech rise solitary, or in small, isolated groups, from thickets of thorn, or among beds of gorse and fern. In this natural commonwealth the birch finds a congenial home, and attains a perfection almost unknown beyond the limits of the New Forest. The lustrous smoothness of stem and bough, in contrast with the deeply-fis green night" of sured bark of the dusky trunk and its soft light. Spots, indeed, there are where the drapery of variegated moss and lichen, the clustering hollies cast at broad noonday a developed form, that ideal of picturesque depth of shadow that often realizes, and symmetry and grace, are fully represented sometimes exceeds, the " here. And whether overhanging some Marvell, and woods and groves where shadowy hollow in the brown heath, or the grey-streaked wall of the red gravel- Save what from heaven is with the breezes "There is no light, pit, or the ever-blossoming furze brake between the woods, the old tree is ever in Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy perfect harmony with its setting, and thus a crowning charm is added to its beauty. blown ways;" The native woods are surrounded by but these are few and far between. The such scenery as this, and are themselves warm glow of sunset streams along hill also remarkable for their open character. and slope, illumining at times some group The trees stand apart in groups or groves, of beech till the very boughs and limbs separated by irregular patches of dwarf grow indistinct radiant with lambent flame, gorse, heather, and crisp turf, or by glades or paints a background to the towering fringed with fern, broad lawns, or moor. grove; and the level rays of autumn Many of the hollies have been pollarded to search the inmost recesses of the forest. browse the deer, and, in the absence of Among the old woods, where the trees underwood or brambles, the fern alone are tall and their boughs gaunt and scanty, checks the free passage of man and beast, even "old December's bareness" ceases and veils the old grassy ways. The oak to be dreary. The softened sunshine, and beech, spreading towards the light, "everywhere pervasive yet nowhere em"train their young boughs in graceful in- phatic," lends an amber gleam to the tricacies, with snatches of the sky between, evergreen ferns and mosses on the trees and frame shady roofs and arches rude;' "and soil, and is weirdly reflected by group the sun, descending at every opening, after group of holly on the slope. The flickers on the foliage and chequers the glossy leaves, with alternately receding party-coloured floor, or breaks up the long and advancing curves, disperse the ray avenues into alternate breadths of light and rob it of its colour; and as each leaf and shade. The seeker after trees notice- capriciously meets or evades the light, the able for age, size, or form, will not be dis- bushes are speckled with a broken sheen, appointed, but will find the intervening not unlike that of moonlight on faintlyscenery yet more attractive. A sense of rippled water, but strangely still, and unlimited freedom, the calm seclusion and sometimes iridescent. orderly disorder of the leafy wilderness, give it a fascination peculiarly its own. But it is time to pass on and examine the old woods more in detail; yet henceThe herds of deer, indeed, just tame forward the changes that confront the enough to suffer themselves to be admired, explorer become at each advance more are sorely missed, but the woodland yet extensive and more lamentable. The task harbours life enough to give a zest to its of enumerating the old woods that are yet seclusion. The pigeon, dove, and night- standi ug is only too easy; but, fortunateingale, with mellow, fitful notes, "at once ly, almost every one has a special characfar off and near," or the busy woodpecker, ter of its own. Burley Old, Bramshaw intensifies the silence; the colt, half shy, Wood, Denny Wood, and Mark Ash are half curious, beside its shaggy dam under the noblest relics of the ancient forest; of the oak upon the glade, the grouped cattle these Mark Ash is acknowledged to be and flock of geese upon the broad lawn, the finest. It should be visited from enliven the scene. But in autumn the Boldrewood, whence it is approached along wanderer may find his day-dream rudely a ridge, of which it occupies the lower and broken by the sudden grunt of routing pigs, or the defiant bark-like cry of the galloping drove as it charges in a wedge the scared dog that hurries for shelter behind him. Perhaps some future Morland will justify the remark that the pigs are indispensable, as its element of humour, to the New Forest landscape. The undulating character and southerly aspect of the woodland render it peculiarly susceptible of the manifold effects of sun broader portion, through groups of oak and beech rising from the heather and fern. An abrupt slope, studded with tangled thickets or single hawthorns hung with grey moss and honeysuckle, unites the two fragments of the ridge; Mark Ash veils the foot of the slope, and, barring the view, concentrates attention on itself. On entering the wood, the change of scene is startling and complete. The drooping boughs that veiled the entrance On a nearer view, the trees are found to stand wide apart, and are all of great size; at the edge of the wood they are fully developed, and the boughs feather towards the ground, but within it the growth tends upwards. Bare limbs, each a tree in itself, spring from a corded bole, and rise like vaulting arches to a great height; aloft, the boughs form a continuous canopy, almost impenetrable by the sun, and rarely stirred by a passing breeze; below, the faint trackway loses itself beneath a russet covering of undisturbed leaves, the accumulation of successive years. The grouping of this "Noble horde, A brotherhood of venerable trees," is especially suggestive where a double row encircles, as with an aisle, an opening to the sky, left by the fall of a central tree. In this pantheon of Nature's building, it is easy to understand the existence of the four hundred prophets of the groves, which did eat at Jezebel's table, and the mediæval imagination which put the dry bones of history into fancy dress, and produced the picturesque traditions of the ancient Druids. prac tion of all general measures, and even of those relating to the other royal forests.* The Act of 1851, however (as will be seen presently), while preserving the language, reversed the intention of the Act of 1698. Hitherto, the condition and management of this forest had suffered no material change since it was subjected to the Norman forestal law by the Conqueror. It provided (nominally at least) a hunting ground for the sovereign, and pasturage for the cattle of the owners and tenants of the adjacent manors and freeholds. A court of verderors, probably a Saxon institution adopted into forest-law, regulated the exercise of the common rights for the protection of the soil and timber, as the representatives of the Crown and commoners. The members of the court seem (as at present) always to have been elected by the freeholders of the county of Southampton, in pursuance of a writ issued by the sovereign, as vacancies occurred. The lands to which these rights attached are still traceable in Domesday Book, and had been registered in 1670 to the extent of 65,000 acres, probably as the first step necessary to the introduction of such à measure as that of 1698. It should be observed that this registration (although the ascertainment of their rights was persistently requested by the commoners) was only completed, at their instance, by the Royal Commission of 1854, since which time these privileges of common right have been exercised by the indefeasible tenure of immemorial usage, confirmed by a parliamentary title. The general appearance of the forest in the sixteenth century may be inferred from the preceding sketches of its primitive Intermediate in extent and style be- beauty, and from the fact that a survey tween the native forest and the new plant-made in 1608 shows that it then contained ations are the woods planted under the a large amount of old and valuable timber. Act of William III. But before describing But during the civil wars of the Commonthese it is necessary to pause and review wealth, one of the historic periods of the the circumstances under which that Act New Forest, its woods, as well as those of was passed, and its provisions. The the kingdom in general, had been so much tice of enclosing portions of the New wasted and impaired that ship-timber had This forest, being Forest for the growth of artificial timber, become very scarce. thus first introduced (1698), is the cause close to Portsmouth and well supplied with of all the changes which have taken place suitable ports, was naturally selected for in its aspect. The Act is also specially the growth of timber for the use of the important as the basis of all subsequent Royal Navy. An Act was therefore passed legislation on the subject of a district al- to enable the Crown, through a Special ways regarded as exceptional in character, Commission to be appointed under the and therefore exempted from the opera- Act, to plant a limited amount of oak only for this particular purpose. But this ex Since this sketch was written, the attention of the writer has been called to an article on the New Forest in Fraser's Magazine for February, 1868, in which another description of this "core of some boundless primæval forest" occurs on page 219. The New Forest is not less than six times the size of any other forest (Evidence, 168, p. 737), ad no parellel can be correctly drawn between it and any other, the circumstances being always different. |