The New Forest: Its History and Its Scenery

by John R. Wise

Looking, too, at the trees and shrubs which are indigenous, we shall find them also eminently characteristic. In spite of what Cæsar says, the beech is certainly a native, pushing out in places even the oak. The holly, too, grows everywhere in massy clumps. In the spring, the wild crab (Pyrus Malus) crimsons the thickets of Brockenhurst, in the autumn the maple. The butcher’s broom stands at the foot of each beech, and the ivy twines its great coil round each oak, and the mistletoe finds its home on the white poplar.

After all, the trees, and not the flowers, give its character to the New Forest. In the spring, all its woods are dappled with lights and shades, with the amber of the oak and the delicate soft-gleaming green of the birch and beech. In the autumn, the spindle-tree (Euonymus Europæus) in the Wootton copses is hung with its rosy gems; and the trenches of Castle Malwood are strewed with the silver leaves of the white-beam.

To return, however, to the plants, let us notice how some particular families seem especially to like the light gravelly soil of the Forest district. Take, for instance, the St. John’s-worts, of which we have no less than six, if not more varieties. The common perforated (Hypericum perforatum) shines on every dry heath, and the square-stalked (quadrangulum) in all the damp boggy places. The tutsan (Androsæmum) is so common round Wootton that it is known to all the children as “touchen leaves,” evidently only a corruption of its name; and its berries are believed throughout the Forest to be stained with the blood of the Danes. The rarer large-flowered (calycinum) grows, though not, I am afraid, truly wild, in some of the thickets round Sway. In all the ponds, the marsh (elodes) springs up, whilst the creeping (humifusum) trails its blossoms over the turf of the Forest lanes, and the small (pulchrum) shows its orange-tipped flowers amongst the brambles and bushes.

Take, again, the large family of the ferns, of which seventeen species are distributed throughout the Forest. First and foremost, of course, stands the royal fern (Osmunda regalis), which may be found from the sea-board to Fordingbridge, rearing its stem in some places six feet high, and covering in patches on the southern border, as at Beckley, nearly a quarter of an acre. It grows in Chewton Glen, in all the lanes in the neighbourhood, on Ashley Common, close to the Osmanby Ford River, and rears its golden-brown pannicles in the boggy thickets near Rufus’s Stone. But before it, in beauty, stands the lady-fern, with its delicate fronds and its tender green, growing in the open spaces of the beech woods, as at Stonehard and Puckpits, and bending over the Forest streams in large leafy clumps. Then, too, in all the large woods grows the sweet-scented mountain fern (Lastrea Oreopteris); and on every bank the hart’s-tongue spreads its broad ribbon-like leaves, and the fertile fronds of the hard-fern spring up feathery and light, whilst from the old oaks the common polypody droops with its dark green tresses. The common maiden-hair (Asplenium Trichomanes), too, hangs on the walls and Forest banks; and on Alice Lisle’s tomb, at Ellingham, the rue-leaved spleenwort is green throughout the whole year. On Breamore churchyard wall and Ringwood bridges grows the common scale-fern, whilst in the meadows of the Avon springs the adder’s-tongue’s green spear.

Nor must we forget the brake, common though it be, for this it is which gives the Forest so much of its character, clothing it with green in the spring; and when the heather is withered, and the furze, too, decayed, making every holt and hollow golden.[281]

And now for some other plants, without reference to their species, but simply to their beauty. On Ashley Common and the neighbouring grass-fields grows the moth-mullein (Verbascum Blattaria), dropping its yellow flowers, as they one by one expand. In the neighbouring pools, as far as Wootton, the blossoms of the great spearwort (Ranunculus Lingua) gleam among the reeds. There, also, the narrow-leaved lungwort (Pulmonaria angustifolia), with its leaves both plain and spotted, opens its blue and crimson flowers so bright, that they are known to all the children as the “snake flower,” and gathered by handfuls mixed with the spotted orchis. And the ladies’ tresses, too (Spiranthes autumnalis), shows its delicate brown braid on every dry field on the southern border.

Besides these, the feathered pink (Dianthus plumarius) blooms on the cloister-walls at Beaulieu; and the Deptford pink (Dianthus Armeria) in the valley of the Avon at Hucklebrook, near Ibbesley. The bastard-balm (Melittis Melissophyllum) flaunts its white and purple blossoms over the banks of Wootton plantation, whilst at Oakley and Knyghtwood the red gladiolus crimsons the green beds of fern.

Briefly, let me say that, as is the Forest soil, so are its plants. Nature ever makes some compensations. The barrenest places she ever clothes with beauty. If corn will not grow, she will give man something better. In the great woods the columbines and tutsan shine in the spring with their blue and yellow blossoms, and the wood-sorrel nestles its white flowers among the mossy roots of the oaks. In the more open spaces the foxgloves overtop the brake, and in the grassy spots the eyebright waves its white-grey crest; and not far off are sure to gleam faint crimson patches of the marsh-pimpernel, half hid in moss; whilst the swamps are fringed with the coral of the sundew.

The King’s Gairn Brook (Another View).