The New Forest: Its History and Its Scenery

by John R. Wise

In Domesday its manor possessed a church and two mills, rented at 14s. 2d. Though all its beech and oak woods, worth, on account of the pannage for swine, 20s. a year, were afforested, only three virgates of land were taken. Yet, notwithstanding this loss, it still paid the same rental as in Edward the Confessor’s reign.

The old hospital, dedicated to St. John, was dissolved by Henry VI., and its revenues annexed to St. Cross, near Winchester.[146] The church stands on the extreme south-west side of the town, with its avenue of limes, and its yews, now spoilt by being clipt. The windows of the nave are Early Decorated, whilst those of the clerestory are Perpendicular. Against the north pillar of the south chancel arch is fixed a late brass. The upper part of the east window is spoilt by its ugly Tudor headings, and the lower portion by the Commandment tables. The high-pitched open Perpendicular roof of the north chancel, however, possesses some real interest, both on account of its height and its richness of detail,—the tie-beams faced with mouldings, and the spaces above ornamented with tracery, and the braces below also carved, and the purlins enriched with bosses, whilst carved projecting figures bear up the whole.

Before, however, the traveller leaves Fordingbridge he should go to Sandyballs and Castle Hill, where are still the remains of a camp, and traces of habitations, probably used in turn by Kelts, Romans, and West-Saxons, and where, perhaps, Ambrosius entrenched himself before the battle of Charford. From here is one of the best views of the Valley. Behind us stands Godshill inclosure, and the Forest with its dark moors and woods. Below winds the Avon, with its orchards nestling on the hill side, stretching its silver coil of waters along the green meadows, the sunlight gleaming on each bend and turn.

Looking up the stream, the village of Wood Green, and the woods of Hale, and the two Charfords, one by one appear. Charford is especially noticeable, formerly Cerdeford, without doubt the Cerdices-ford of The Chronicle and of Florence. Here it was for the last time that the gallant Ambrosius Aurelianus, Prince Natan-Leod, father of the great Arthur of Mediæval legends, after his many defeats, rallied the forlorn hope of the Romanized Kelts. Here, too, he fell on the greensward by the side of the Avon, with five thousand of his men, and was buried at Amesbury, which still preserves his name. Of the battle we know nothing—know only this, that the Keltic power in Wessex was broken, and that from henceforth the land from Winchester to Charford was called Natan-lea.[147]

Close to Charford lies Breamore,—the last of the Forest manors to the north-west mentioned in Domesday[148]—with the ruins of its fine Elizabethan hall, burnt down only a few years since, and its church standing in a graveyard full of old yews and laurels. The church has been most shamefully disfigured—stuccoed outside, and whitewashed within. Still it is worth seeing. A Norman doorway, another proof that the Conqueror did not destroy every church in the district, stands inside the south porch. A piscina, and brackets for images, still remain in the chancel.

Returning to Fordingbridge we pass through Burgate, formerly belonging to Beaulieu Abbey, where the dogs of the Lord of the Manor, like those of the Abbot of the Monastery, were allowed to go “unlawed.” The base of the old village cross still remains, but the head was, not long ago, broken to pieces to mend the roads.

Our way from Fordingbridge lies by the side of the Avon, with the new chapel of Hyde or Hungerford standing on the top of the Forest range of hills. The road soon brings us to Ibbesley, the prettiest of villages in the Valley, with its cottages by the road-side, and their gardens of roses and poppies and sweet pease, and their porches thatched with honeysuckle. Three great elms overhang the river, spanned by the single arch of its bridge; whilst the stream pours sparkling and foaming over the weir into the water-meadows, and in the distance the tower of Harbridge rises out from its trees.

The sketch which is given at the end of this chapter is taken lower down in the fields, and shows another view not so well known. But the whole river is here full of beauty, winding, scarce knowing where, among the flat meadows, one stream flowing one way, and one another, and then all suddenly uniting, coming up with their joined force against the steep banks, dark in the shade of the trees; and, being repulsed, flowing away again into the meadows, white with flocks of swans, and fenced in by green hedges of rushes and yellow flags.

Going on we reach the avenue of elms which brings us to the Ellingham cross roads. Turning up the lane to the left we presently come to Moyles Court, just on the boundary of the Forest, looking out upon the woods of Newlyns and Chartley. Here lived Alice Lisle, and here are shown the hiding-places where, after the battle of Sedgemoor, she concealed Hicks and Nelthorpe. The house is sadly out of repair; the oak floors, and part of the fine old staircase, and the wainscoting of many of the rooms have been taken away; the old tapestry is destroyed and the iron gates rusted and broken. Still the private chapel remains, with its panelling and carved string-course of heads, and its “Ecce Homo” over the place where the altar once stood.[149]

The story of Alice Lisle needs not to be told. She was found guilty of high treason not by the jury, but by the judge,—the infamous Jeffreys,—and was condemned, for an act of Christian kindness, to worse than a felon’s death.