Lastly, you have the great port formed by the crossing place at London, made, as we have seen, by the tendency of early travel, right up to the appearance of railways, to penetrate a country as far as possible by its waterways and to carry cargoes well inland, because water carriage was so much cheaper than land transport.
The third factor—that of river crossing—also has its effect, though a lesser one, upon the trace of the old British ways. If, for instance, you carry along any one of the tracks which follow the chalk you will see how carefully the water crossings were picked. It is the characteristic of chalk that the rivers lie transverse to it, cutting gorges through the hills, and each of these crossing places was chosen where hard land approached from either side. The chalk (and the sand associated with it) provides at certain points in the valleys twin spurs approaching the water on either side; hence you have the track along the north downs crossing the Wey at St. Catherine’s Chapel (and alternatively by Guildford); and, again, the Mole at Pixham, near Dorking, and the Medway at Snodland (with an alternative at Rochester). The southern track along the Hampshire and Sussex Downs takes the Arun at a similar advantage and opportunity at Houghton, and alternatively at Arundel. It takes the Adur at Bramber, the Ouse at Lewes.
This vague sketch of the old trackways is all that we can lay down so far as their main lines are concerned, and it is very imperfect, but we must bear it in mind in order to understand the Roman system, which was largely based upon those trackways and which superseded them.
There was one kind of soil, and one only, which could compete with the chalk as good going for primitive travel, and that was sand. Had we sand in continuous lines in Britain it would have given a dry passage for the trackways, and here and there advantage is taken of it by such trackways. But sand, in point of fact, is not to be found in these continuous lines. It comes in patches, and hence we cannot talk of any one of the great trackways as dependent upon a sandy soil. The chief exception that I can call to mind in this respect is the run of the old Pilgrims’ Way—a prehistoric track from the neighbourhood of Farnham to the crossing of the Mole, near Dorking. Though chalk lay on the main direction, it seems to have preferred the southern dry sand to the chalk immediately north of it, and it keeps to the sand until the cessation of that formation a short distance west of the Mole. There is here a curious piece of political geology which has been, I think, of great effect upon the history of England. Had the ridges of sand through the weald of Sussex been continuous, the weald would have been developed early. Its iron industry would have furnished a basis for export, and it would have become one of the centres of population. There are ridges of sand which you can trace all the way through the weald from close by the Hampshire chalk in the neighbourhood of Midhurst right away to the valley of the Rother. But they are not continuous, and the interruptions are formed of deep clay, impossible to pass in winter. The result of that lack of continuity has been that no such track ever developed through the weald of Sussex. Sussex, therefore, owing to the stiff clay of its weald, remained cut off from the rest of England, and that throughout all the Dark Ages. It falls out of the national history. Indeed, the linking up of Sussex with the north was only effected by the Romans at the cost of great labour through the artificial causeway of the Stane Street between Chichester and London; and after the breakdown of western civilization in the fifth century there was no regular approach to the southern coast from the Thames valley in a direct line. The traffic either went westward down towards Southampton, Hampshire, Dorset, and Devon or eastward to the Straits of Dover. The Norman Conquest and the rule of the Angevins restored Sussex to something of its rightful place in English communications because the coast of that county lay immediately opposite the centre of the foreign region which then governed England, but the interlude was not lengthy. In the later Middle Ages and on to quite modern times (to the middle of the eighteenth century) the interruption due to the clay made itself felt again, and only the railway and great increase of population have been able between them to restore direct and frequent communication between the Thames valley and this part of the southern coast.
CHAPTER XI
THE MAKING OF THE ROMAN ROAD
The Great Initiative: The Mark of the Roman Military Engineer: The Theory and Practice of the Straight Line: Modifications of the Straight Line: How it was Carried Out: The Method of Odds and Evens.
i
The making of the great Roman roads was the one great initiative in the story of English communications: it originated all that followed, and there was no new real development, no essentially new departure between the planning of that military scheme and the coming of the railway. It can only be compared to what the future may have to show if we find ourselves able to reform our roads as they should be reformed for the new conditions of modern travel, and even this change would not be anything like as great as the change made by the throwing of those great highways to stand for ever across a country which had hitherto been half barbarous.
[The Roman Road had a structure and character of its own] which it has retained to the present day, so that even where it was only the straightening and the strengthening of an old trackway upon which it was founded it would follow the mark of the Roman engineers throughout all that remained of its course. It was essentially a piece of building, and in this the Roman Road differed from every other form of communication before the modern railways. It had to be of this kind on account of two things which the Roman military engineers particularly desired to serve, both of them connected with the military character of the west. First, they wanted a platform, raised, as a rule, above the surrounding country, so that troops passing along it should be the less liable to attack: so that a view could be had from it over the immediate surroundings, which were cleared: and so that any sudden stroke against a marching column could be checked. The raising of the way had other objects, of course—it kept the surface dry, for instance—but the main object was that of security upon the march, and the same object was one of the reasons for making the roads as a rule in straight lengths or limbs, sometimes two, three, or even four days’ march in extent. A road was planned without windings, so as to be safer from ambush and surprise, and where it had coupled to its straightness its elevation above the surrounding country the chance of ambush or surprise was almost eliminated.
