The Kentish Coast

by Charles G. Harper

Dungeness, as described by Lambarde in 1567, is a “Neshe, called in Saxon nesse, which seemeth to be derived of the Latin Nasus, and signifieth a Nebbe or Nose of the land extended into the Sea.”

“Before this Neshe,” he continues, “lieth a flat into the Sea, threatening great danger to unadvised Sailers.” It is indeed the most remarkable projection—hardly to be called a promontory, for that indicates also a height—along the coast of Kent, and makes a bold figure on the map, thrusting itself in a striking manner well into the Channel. In that, and in the singularity of it being merely a flat, shingly extension of Dunge and Walling marshes, lies its great menace to all shipping. A promontory, such as either of the Forelands, could be easily distinguished from the sea; but at night and in hazy weather this land is readily to be mistaken for water, as many ships for centuries past have disastrously found. A great aggravation of these sufficient perils is constituted by the remarkable depth of water existing close inshore. The shingle rises steeply, twenty-two feet out of the sea, and large steamers of deep draught can, and do, come quite close in.

The natural perils of Dungeness were greatly aggravated from the middle of the sixteenth century onwards by the new lofty tower of Lydd church, built by Cardinal Wolsey. Complaints were bitterly made of it. The tower, it was said, in the reign of James the First, resembled from the sea “the forme of the saile of some talle shippe,” leading unfortunate mariners in uncertain lights to steer directly for the shore and destruction.

From this and other causes Dungeness became as dangerous and fatal a flat as the Goodwins, and it was stated that in one winter no fewer than a thousand bodies had been collected on the shore, and £100,000 value of merchandise had been lost. These facts attracted speculators in the era of the first James, and Sir Edward Howard, the King’s Cupbearer, about 1615 erected a lighthouse here, petitioning the King to grant him a patent for levying dues upon passing shipping. The Trinity House, of course, opposed—it was the métier of the Trinity House in those times to oppose every new proposition for lighting the dark and dangerous places; but Sir Edward secured his patent. He soon, however, found it difficult to collect his dues, and disposed of his interest to one William Lamplough, Clerk of the King’s Kitchen. This person soon bestirred himself to secure the full advantage of the rights he had thus acquired, and through his influence at Court obtained the aid of the customs officers for the enforcement of them, a strenuous course of action which in turn stirred up the ship-owners and the Trinity House, who made common cause and jointly promoted a Parliamentary Bill in 1621, providing for the suppression of the light, described by them as a nuisance to navigation. It will be clearly perceived that the light only began to be a “nuisance” to the ship-owners when they were required to pay something towards the upkeep of it. On the other hand, Lamplough—entirely in keeping with his name—neglected the quality of his illumination—a thing commonly done in those times and long after by lighthouse-keepers. He was warned to snuff his candles more diligently, and to improve the light in general. The Bill was thrown out and Lamplough continued in possession. Then the town of Rye caused a Bill to be drafted, seeking to take possession of the lighthouse, on the plea that the first idea for such a light had emanated from Rye, and promising to devote the income from the dues collected to the improvement of the harbour. But this attempt to deprive Lamplough also failed, and in 1635 he is found rebuilding his lighthouse on a larger and more substantial plan.

Dungeness light gradually proved its great usefulness, but by some means Lamplough’s successor fell into difficulties and could not, or would not, pay his ground-rent to his landlord, the Earl of Thanet, who went so far as to threaten to pull down the lighthouse. This was in the time of the Commonwealth, and the resourceful lighthouse-keeper appealed to Cromwell, who decided that it “was not right that the safety of many lives and of the State’s ships should be left to the will of the Earl of Thanet.” The upshot of this trouble between the defiant tenant and the baffled landlord is obscure.

The next building, dating from 1792, was, an inscription on it states: “Erected by Thomas William Coke, Esq., in the county of Norfolk, instead of the old lighthouse, which originally stood 540 yards to the northward, and which, by means of the land increasing from the violence of the sea, became useless to navigation.”

This old building was but 100 feet from the sea at low water. It is now more than a quarter of a mile distant, and the point of shingle still steadily accumulates, in the strong eastward drift, at the rate of six feet a year.

A newer lighthouse was built in 1904, and rises to a height of 130 feet, with a low light, fifty-five feet. The tower is of brick, and is distinguished by being painted chocolate, relieved with a deep white band. The light displayed is a fixed oil-beam, replacing the electric light, whose white glare, installed a good many years ago, was found to be incapable of penetrating fogs so easily as the more yellow rays of oil. The lower light exhibits a flash; and a foghorn, working on a high and a low note, forms an auxiliary warning in thick weather.

Dungeness, one of the most remarkable places in England, is like no other place than itself: a waste of shingle, with here and there a sparse patch of gorse stretching as far as the eye can reach, and with a little single-track railway running out from Lydd and expiring close by the Lighthouse, at Dungeness “station”: a primitive hut without booking-office, signals, or any other of the usual appurtenances of ordinary railway management. The guard of trains in-coming or departing collects and issues tickets, and is, in his many other small duties, a host in himself. It is generally a source of surprise among strangers to find the South-Eastern Railway Company has considered it worth while to build a line to Dungeness at all; but the explanation is found in the ballast-trucks frequently despatched with loads of the inexhaustible shingle, for use along the line and elsewhere.