The former bold outline of the West Cliff is in part lost, owing to land-slides during the past century; and lost, likewise (owing to tidal action), is the old pathway round the Weirs underneath, towards the lighthouses, which formed a pleasant ramble seventy odd years ago. But the view from the cliff-tops, both east and west, must be much the same as in immediately-preceding centuries, and it is only those who have watched the flickering lights and shadows and roseate glow over-spreading the white coast-line in early day right away to St. Ealdhelm’s, or faced the sunset on the West Cliff, who can appreciate one of the chief charms of Portland, viz., the varying character of the coast-line, both far and near—that coast which surely no Englishman can survey without emotion, abounding as it does in memories of the deeds which helped to make our England.
The Bay itself is glorious to look down upon, with its pebbly ridge dividing it from that other water more like lake than sea; whilst straight away, cloud-cleaving in the haze, is Blackdown, capped by Hardy’s Monument, over which hover greyish-purple shadows, changing into those tones and half-tones which are so charming in Dorset “distances.”
The East Weirs, again, were an ideal place for a day’s ramble, with their wild undergrowth, dog-roses and honeysuckle sending their fragrance along the sea-laden breezes. Set off on one hand by the grey, grim cliffs above, and the restless waters on the other, they merge into a chaotic jumble of rocks and grass, terminating abruptly in a ledge overlooking one of the gems of the isle—the beautiful little cove of Church Hope. This cove is guarded above by weather-beaten Bow and Arrow Castle, the old ruined church, and Pennsylvania Castle, the latter lying at the head of a romantic grassy slope studded with trees, and the whole forming a delightful rest for tired eyes in treeless, stony Portland Isle.
Bow and Arrow, or Rufus Castle, is worth more than a mere passing allusion, but space forbids. Its alternative name may show the period of its erection; it was probably built about the same time as the ancient church which preceded the adjacent ruined building. Its original strength is apparent at a glance, and its position on the summit of a crag overlooking the channel is distinctly striking. Old Portlanders believed the above-mentioned crag to have once been near the centre of the island, and the Shambles to have been the site of butchers’ shops. When we recall the great historic land-slides on the north-east in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and remember how the old people are stated to have spoken of them with bated breath, in reference to the terror they had caused the then living inhabitants, who had believed the whole island to be slipping away, the tradition does not seem so wildly impossible.
Recorded history is so silent respecting the early years of Portland, that one fancies it must have inherited its full share of that barbarism into which Britain relapsed after the departure of the Romans, its very name having been lost; for that it was the “Vindilis,” or “Vindilia,” of Roman times, is open to grave doubts, the latest edition of the Antonine Itinerary stating that place to have been Belle Isle. It is much more generally accepted that Portland was referred to in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle as the landing-place of the men “who came in three long ships from Hæretha Land (Denmark), A.D. 787.” Terrible, indeed, must have been the depredations of these wild northmen during this and subsequent periods, for floating traditions to linger on till past the middle of the nineteenth century. It is well within the writer’s memory that rebellious children were sometimes threatened with being carried off by “the cruel wild men, who come over the beach in the middle of the night and carry away naughty children”—a threat which was varied by references to “Old Arripay” or “Boney.” The “wild men” seemed too remote, and “Arripay” too nebulous to a child’s mind to cause much fear; but “Boney” was a real terror to the little conscience-stricken individual, so familiar with frequent allusions to the threatened French invasion under Buonaparte as to consider him still living, and to regard him with a mighty dread.
There is a legend still extant that after the defeat of the Danes at Charmouth they landed at Portland and carried off some maidens, whom they imprisoned in the bottom of their ship. Owing to a fearful storm, the Danes perished, whilst the ship containing the bound girls was driven backwards during the night and cast ashore. When the light of morning broke, to their great joy, they found themselves at the very place from which they had been stolen.
Duke Æthelhelm defeated the Danes here in 837; and in 1052 Earl Godwin landed and plundered the island.
Edward the Confessor granted the manor to the church at Winchester, which grant must have been revoked by the Conqueror, as Domesday Book states: “The King holds the island which is called Porland.” Later on we find the Prior and Convent of Winchester held Portland, which may account for certain lands there still being called Priory. It must not be forgotten that the manor in ancient times included the dependencies of Wyke, Weymouth, and Helwell. Interesting references to grants of the Manor may be seen at the British Museum. Amongst the more noteworthy names in this connection may be cited those of Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester and Hertford, Lionel Duke of Clarence, and Cecilia Duchess of York. Later still we find Henry VIII. granting the Manor and Isle to Catherine Howard, and then to Catherine Parr, Portland having formed part of Jane Seymour’s possessions. In a closet over the gun-room at Portland Castle is the following inscription:—
God, save, Kinge, Henri, the viii, of, that, name, and, Prins, Edvard, begottin, of, Quene, Jane, my, Ladi, Mari, that, goodli, Virgin, and, the, Ladi, Elizabeth, so, towardli, with, the, Kinge’s, honorable, counselers.
Amongst the Lansdowne MSS. in the British Museum is one entitled “Remembrance for Lord Burghly as to certain fixtures of Sir W. Raleigh relating to Portland Castle, 1587”; and in 1625 the name of Gilbert Rawleigh is cited as Governor of the Castle.