THE VANISHING OF ENGLISH SCENERY

<< OLD CUSTOMS THAT ARE VANISHING

CONCLUSION >>

neglected. Pins, nails, and rags are still offered, and the custom of "well-dressing,"

shorn of its pagan associations and adapted to Christian usage, exists in all its glory

at Tissington, Youlgrave, Derby, and several other places.

The three great events of human life--birth, marriage, and death--have naturally

drawn around them some of the most curious beliefs. These are too numerous to be

recorded here, and I must again refer the curious reader to my book on old-time

customs. We should like to dwell upon the most remarkable of the customs that

prevail in the City of London, in the halls of the Livery Companies, as well as in

some of the ancient boroughs of England, but this record would require too large a

space. Bell-ringing customs attract attention. The curfew-bell still rings in many

towers; the harvest-bell, the gleaning-bell, the pancake-bell, the "spur-peal," the

eight-hours' bell, and sundry others send out their pleasing notice to the world. At

Aldermaston land is let by means of a lighted candle. A pin is placed through the

candle, and the last bid that is made before that pin drops out is the occupier of the

land for a year. The Church Acre at Chedzoy is let in a similar manner, and also at

Todworth, Warton, and other places. Wiping the shoes of those who visit a market

for the first time is practised at Brixham, and after that little ceremony they have to

"pay their footing." At St. Ives raffling for Bibles continues, according to the will

of Dr. Wilde in 1675, and in church twelve children cast dice for six Bibles. Court,

Bar, and Parliament have each their peculiar customs which it would be interesting

to note, if space permitted; and we should like to record the curious bequests, doles,

and charities which display the eccentricities of human nature and the strange

tenures of land which have now fallen into disuse.

It is to be hoped that those who are in a position to preserve any existing custom in

their own neighbourhood will do their utmost to prevent its decay. Popular customs

are a heritage which has been bequeathed to us from a remote past, and it is our

duty to hand down that heritage to future generations of English folk.

CHAPTER XIX

THE VANISHING OF ENGLISH SCENERY AND NATURAL

BEAUTY

Not the least distressing of the losses which we have to mourn is the damage that

has been done to the beauty of our English landscapes and the destruction of many

scenes of sylvan loveliness. The population of our large towns continues to increase

owing to the insensate folly that causes the rural exodus. People imagine that the

streets of towns are paved with gold, and forsake the green fields for a crowded

slum, and after many vicissitudes and much hardship wish themselves back again

in their once despised village home. I was lecturing to a crowd of East End

Londoners at Toynbee Hall on village life in ancient and modern times, and showed

them views of the old village street, the cottages, manor-houses, water-mills, and

all the charms of rural England, and after the lecture I talked with many of the men

who remembered their country homes which they had left in the days of their

youth, and they all wished to go back there again, if only they could find work and

had not lost the power of doing it. But the rural exodus continues. Towns increase

rapidly, and cottages have to be found for these teeming multitudes. Many a rural

glade and stretch of woodland have to be sacrificed, and soon streets are formed

and rows of unsightly cottages spring up like magic, with walls terribly thin, that

can scarcely stop the keenness of the wintry blasts, so thin that each neighbour can

hear your conversation, and if a man has a few words with his wife all the

inhabitants of the row can hear him.

Garden cities have arisen as a remedy for this evil, carefully planned dwelling-

places wherein some thought is given to beauty and picturesque surroundings, to

plots for gardens, and to the comfort of the fortunate citizens. But some garden

cities are garden only in name. Cheap villas surrounded by unsightly fields that

have been spoilt and robbed of all beauty, with here and there unsightly heaps of

rubbish and refuse, only delude themselves and other people by calling themselves

garden cities. Too often there is no attempt at beauty. Cheapness and speedy

construction are all that their makers strive for.

These growing cities, ever increasing, ever enclosing fresh victims in their hideous

maw, work other ills. They require much food, and they need water. Water must be

found and conveyed to them. This has been no easy task for many corporations. For

many years the city of Liverpool drew its supply from Rivington, a range of hills

near Bolton-le-Moors, where there were lakes and where they could construct

others. Little harm was done there; but the city grew and the supply was

insufficient. Other sources had to be found and tapped. They found one in Wales.

Their eyes fell on the Lake Vyrnwy, and believed that they found what they sought.

But that, too, could not supply the millions of gallons that Liverpool needed. They

found that the whole vale of Llanwddyn must be embraced. A gigantic dam must

be made at the lower end of the valley, and the whole vale converted into one great

lake. But there were villages in the vale, rural homes and habitations, churches and

chapels, and over five hundred people who lived therein and must be turned out.

And now the whole valley is a lake. Homes and churches lie beneath the waves,

and the graves of the "women that sleep," of the rude forefathers of the hamlet, of

bairns and dear ones are overwhelmed by the pitiless waters. It is all very

deplorable.

And now it seems that the same thing must take place again: but this time it is an

English valley that is concerned, and the people are the country folk of North

Hampshire. There is a beautiful valley not far from Kingsclere and Newbury,

surrounded by lovely hills covered with woodland. In this valley in a quiet little

village appropriately called Woodlands, formed about half a century ago out of the

large parish of Kingsclere, there is a little hamlet named Ashford Hill, the modern

church of St. Paul, Woodlands, pretty cottages with pleasant gardens, a village inn,

and a dissenting chapel. The churchyard is full of graves, and a cemetery has been

lately added. This pretty valley with its homes and church and chapel is a doomed

valley. In a few years time if a former resident returns home from Australia or

America to his native village he will find his old cottage gone from the light of the

sun and buried beneath the still waters of a huge lake. It is almost certain that such

will be the case with this secluded rural scene. The eyes of Londoners have turned

upon the doomed valley. They need water, and water must somehow be procured.

The great city has no pity. The church and the village will have to be removed. It is

all very sad. As a writer in a London paper says: "Under the best of conditions it is

impossible to think of such an eviction without sympathy for the grief that it must

surely cause to some. The younger residents may contemplate it cheerfully enough;

but for the elder folk, who have spent lives of sunshine and shade, toil, sorrow, joy,

in this peaceful vale, it must needs be that the removal will bring a regret not to be

lightly uttered in words. The soul of man clings to the localities that he has known

and loved; perhaps, as in Wales, there will be some broken hearts when the water

flows in upon the scenes where men and women have met and loved and wedded,

where children have been born, where the beloved dead have been laid to rest."

The old forests are not safe. The Act of 1851 caused the destruction of miles of

beautiful landscape. Peacock, in his story of Gryll Grange, makes the

announcement that the New Forest is now enclosed, and that he proposes never to

visit it again. Twenty-five years of ruthless devastation followed the passing of that

Act. The deer disappeared. Stretches of open beechwood and green lawns broken

by thickets of ancient thorn and holly vanished under the official axe. Woods and

lawns were cleared and replaced by miles and miles of rectangular fir plantations.

The Act of 1876 with regard to forest land came late, but it, happily, saved some

spots of sylvan beauty. Under the Act of 1851 all that was ancient and delightful to

the eye would have been levelled, or hidden in fir-wood. The later Act stopped this

wholesale destruction. We have still some lofty woods, still some scenery that

shows how England looked when it was a land of blowing woodland. The New

Forest is maimed and scarred, but what is left is precious and unique. It is primeval

forest land, nearly all that remains in the country. Are these treasures safe? Under

the Act of 1876 managers are told to consider beauty as well as profit, and to

abstain from destroying ancient trees; but much is left to the decision and to the

judgment of officials, and they are not always to be depended on.

After having been threatened with demolition for a number of years, the famous

Winchmore Hill Woods are at last to be hewn down and the land is to be built

upon. These woods, which it was Hood's and Charles Lamb's delight to stroll in,

have become the property of a syndicate, which will issue a prospectus shortly, and

many of the fine old oaks, beeches, and elms already bear the splash of white which

marks them for the axe. The woods have been one of the greatest attractions in the

neighbourhood, and public opinion is strongly against the demolition.

One of the greatest services which the National Trust is doing for the country is the

preserving of the natural beauties of our English scenery. It acquires, through the

generosity of its supporters, special tracts of lovely country, and says to the

speculative builder "Avaunt!" It maintains the landscape for the benefit of the

public. People can always go there and enjoy the scenery, and townsfolk can fill

their lungs with fresh air, and children play on the greensward. These oases afford

sanctuary to birds and beasts and butterflies, and are of immense value to botanists

and entomologists. Several properties in the Lake District have come under the

ægis of the Trust. Seven hundred and fifty acres around Ullswater have been

purchased, including Gowbarrow Fell and Aira Force. By this, visitors to the

English lakes can have unrestrained access over the heights of Gowbarrow Fell,

through the glen of Aira and along a mile of Ullswater shore, and obtain some of

the loveliest views in the district. It is possible to trespass in the region of the lakes.

It is possible to wander over hills and through dales, but private owners do not like

trespassers, and it is not pleasant to be turned back by some officious servant.

Moreover, it needs much impudence and daring to traverse without leave another

man's land, though it be bare and barren as a northern hill. The Trust invites you to

come, and you are at peace, and know that no man will stop you if you walk over

its preserves. Moreover, it holds a delectable bit of country on Lake Derwentwater,

known as the Brandlehow Park Estate. It extends for about a mile along the shore

of the lake and reaches up the fell-side to the unenclosed common on Catbels. It is

a lovely bit of woodland scenery. Below the lake glistens in the sunlight and far

away the giant hills Blencatha, Skiddaw, and Borrowdale rear their heads. It cost

the Trust £7000, but no one would deem the money ill-spent. Almost the last

remnant of the primeval fenland of East Anglia, called Wicken Fen, has been

acquired by the Trust, and also Burwell Fen, the home of many rare insects and

plants. Near London we see many bits of picturesque land that have been rescued,

where the teeming population of the great city can find rest and recreation. Thus at

Hindhead, where it has been said villas seem to have broken out upon the once

majestic hill like a red skin eruption, the Hindhead Preservation Committee and the

Trust have secured 750 acres of common land on the summit of the hill, including

the Devil's Punch Bowl, a bright oasis amid the dreary desert of villas. Moreover,

the Trust is waging a battle with the District Council of Hambledon in order to

prevent the Hindhead Commons from being disfigured by digging for stone for

mending roads, causing unsightliness and the sad disfiguring of the commons. May

it succeed in its praiseworthy endeavour. At Toy's Hill, on a Kentish hillside,

overlooking the Weald, some valuable land has been acquired, and part of Wandle

Park, Wimbledon, containing the Merton Mill Pond and its banks, adjoining the

Recreation Ground recently provided by the Wimbledon Corporation, is now in the

possession of the Trust. It is intended for the quiet enjoyment of rustic scenery by

the people who live in the densely populated area of mean streets of Merton and

Morden, and not for the lovers of the more strenuous forms of recreation. Ide Hill

and Crockham Hill, the properties of the Trust, can easily be reached by the

dwellers in London streets.

We may journey in several directions and find traces of the good work of the Trust.

At Barmouth a beautiful cliff known as Dinas-o-lea, Llanlleiana Head, Anglesey,

the fifteen acres of cliff land at Tintagel, called Barras Head, looking on to the

magnificent pile of rocks on which stand the ruins of King Arthur's Castle, and the

summit of Kymin, near Monmouth, whence you can see a charming view of the

Wye Valley, are all owned and protected by the Trust. Every one knows the curious

appearance of Sarsen stones, often called Grey Wethers from their likeness to a

flock of sheep lying down amidst the long grass of a Berkshire or Wiltshire down.

These stones are often useful for building purposes and for road-mending. There is

a fine collection of these curious stones, which were used in prehistoric times for

building Stonehenge, at Pickle Dean and Lockeridge Dean. These are adjacent to

high roads and would soon have fallen a prey to the road surveyor or local builder.

Hence the authorities of this Trust stepped in; they secured for the nation these

characteristic examples of a unique geological phenomenon, and preserved for all

time a curious and picturesque feature of the country traversed by the old Bath

Road. All that the Trust requires is "more force to its elbow," increased funds for

the preservation of the natural beauty of our English scenery, and the increased

appreciation on the part of the public and of the owners of unspoilt rural scenes to

extend its good work throughout the counties of England.

A curious feature of vanished or vanishing England is the decay of our canals,

which here and there with their unused locks, broken towpaths, and stagnant waters

covered with weeds form a pathetic and melancholy part of the landscape. If you

look at the map of England you will see, besides the blue curvings that mark the

rivers, other threads of blue that show the canals. Much was expected of them.

They were built just before the railway era. The whole country was covered by a

network of canals. Millions were spent upon their construction. For a brief space

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