THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ENGLAND

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CHAPTER II

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ENGLAND

Under this alarming heading, "The Disappearance of England," the Gaulois

recently published an article by M. Guy Dorval on the erosion of the English

coasts. The writer refers to the predictions of certain British men of science that

England will one day disappear altogether beneath the waves, and imagines that we

British folk are seized by a popular panic. Our neighbours are trembling for the fate

of the entente cordiale, which would speedily vanish with vanishing England; but

they have been assured by some of their savants that the rate of erosion is only one

kilometre in a thousand years, and that the danger of total extinction is somewhat

remote. Professor Stanislas Meunier, however, declares that our "panic" is based on

scientific facts. He tells us that the cliffs of Brighton are now one kilometre farther

away from the French coast than in the days of Queen Elizabeth, and that those of

Kent are six kilometres farther away than in the Roman period. He compares our

island to a large piece of sugar in water, but we may rest assured that before we

disappear beneath the waves the period which must elapse would be greater than

the longest civilizations known in history. So we may hope to be able to sing "Rule

Britannia" for many a long year.

Coast erosion is, however, a serious problem, and has caused the destruction of

many a fair town and noble forest that now lie beneath the seas, and the crumbling

cliffs on our eastern shore threaten to destroy many a village church and smiling

pasture. Fishermen tell you that when storms rage and the waves swell they have

heard the bells chiming in the towers long covered by the seas, and nigh the

picturesque village of Bosham we were told of a stretch of sea that was called the

Park. This as late as the days of Henry VIII was a favourite royal hunting forest,

wherein stags and fawns and does disported themselves; now fish are the only prey

that can be slain therein.

The Royal Commission on coast erosion relieves our minds somewhat by assuring

us that although the sea gains upon the land in many places, the land gains upon the

sea in others, and that the loss and gain are more or less balanced. As a matter of

area this is true. Most of the land that has been rescued from the pitiless sea is

below high-water mark, and is protected by artificial banks. This work of

reclaiming land can, of course, only be accomplished in sheltered places, for

example, in the great flat bordering the Wash, which flat is formed by the deposit

of the rivers of the Fenland, and the seaward face of this region is gradually being

pushed forward by the careful processes of enclosure. You can see the various old

sea walls which have been constructed from Roman times onward. Some accretions

of land have occurred where the sea piles up masses of shingle, unless foolish

people cart away the shingle in such quantities that the waves again assert

themselves. Sometimes sand silts up as at Southport in Lancashire, where there is

the second longest pier in England, a mile in length, from the end of which it is said

that on a clear day with a powerful telescope you may perchance see the sea, that a

distinguished traveller accustomed to the deserts of Sahara once found it, and that

the name Southport is altogether a misnomer, as it is in the north and there is no

port at all.

But however much as an Englishman I might rejoice that the actual area of "our

tight little island," which after all is not very tight, should not be diminishing, it

would be a poor consolation to me, if I possessed land and houses on the coast of

Norfolk which were fast slipping into the sea, to know that in the Fenland

industrious farmers were adding to their acres. And day by day, year by year, this

destruction is going on, and the gradual melting away of land. The attack is not

always persistent. It is intermittent. Sometimes the progress of the sea seems to be

stayed, and then a violent storm arises and falling cliffs and submerged houses

proclaim the sway of the relentless waves. We find that the greatest loss has

occurred on the east and southern coasts of our island. Great damage has been

wrought all along the Yorkshire sea-board from Bridlington to Kilnsea, and the

following districts have been the greatest sufferers: between Cromer and

Happisburgh, Norfolk; between Pakefield and Southwold, Suffolk; Hampton and

Herne Bay, and then St. Margaret's Bay, near Dover; the coast of Sussex, east of

Brighton, and the Isle of Wight; the region of Bournemouth and Poole; Lyme Bay,

Dorset, and Bridgwater Bay, Somerset.

All along the coast from Yarmouth to Eastbourne, with a few exceptional parts, we

find that the sea is gaining on the land by leaps and bounds. It is a coast that is most

favourably constructed for coast erosion. There are no hard or firm rocks, no cliffs

high enough to give rise to a respectable landslip; the soil is composed of loose

sand and gravels, loams and clays, nothing to resist the assaults of atmospheric

action from above or the sea below. At Covehithe, on the Suffolk coast, there has

been the greatest loss of land. In 1887 sixty feet was claimed by the sea, and in ten

years (1878-87) the loss was at the rate of over eighteen feet a year. In 1895

another heavy loss occurred between Southwold and Covehithe and a new cove

formed. Easton Bavent has entirely disappeared, and so have the once prosperous

villages of Covehithe, Burgh-next-Walton, and Newton-by-Corton, and the same

fate seems to be awaiting Pakefield, Southwold, and other coast-lying towns.

Easton Bavent once had such a flourishing fishery that it paid an annual rent of

3110 herrings; and millions of herrings must have been caught by the fishermen of

disappeared Dunwich, which we shall visit presently, as they paid annually "fish-

fare" to the clergy of the town 15,377 herrings, besides 70,000 to the royal treasury.

The summer visitors to the pleasant watering-place Felixstowe, named after St.

Felix, who converted the East Anglians to Christianity and was their first bishop,

that being the place where the monks of the priory of St. Felix in Walton held their

annual fair, seldom reflect that the old Saxon burgh was carried away as long ago

as 1100 A.D. Hence Earl Bigot was compelled to retire inland and erect his famous

castle at Walton. But the sea respected not the proud walls of the baron's

stronghold; the strong masonry that girt the keep lies beneath the waves; a heap of

stones, called by the rustics Stone Works, alone marks the site of this once

powerful castle. Two centuries later the baron's marsh was destroyed by the sea,

and eighty acres of land was lost, much to the regret of the monks, who were thus

deprived of the rent and tithe corn.

The old chroniclers record many dread visitations of the relentless foe. Thus in

1237 we read: "The sea burst with high tides and tempests of winds, marsh

countries near the sea were flooded, herds and flocks perished, and no small

number of men were lost and drowned. The sea rose continually for two days and

one night." Again in 1251: "On Christmas night there was a great thunder and

lightning in Suffolk; the sea caused heavy floods." In much later times Defoe

records: "Aldeburgh has two streets, each near a mile long, but its breadth, which

was more considerable formerly, is not proportionable, and the sea has of late years

swallowed up one whole street." It has still standing close to the shore its quaint

picturesque town hall, erected in the fifteenth century. Southwold is now practically

an island, bounded on the east by the sea, on the south-west by the Blyth River, on

the north-west by Buss Creek. It is only joined to the mainland by a narrow neck of

shingle that divides Buss Creek from the sea. I think that I should prefer to hold

property in a more secure region. You invest your savings in stock, and dividends

decrease and your capital grows smaller, but you usually have something left. But

when your land and houses vanish entirely beneath the waves, the chapter is ended

and you have no further remedy except to sue Father Neptune, who has rather a

wide beat and may be difficult to find when he is wanted to be served with a

summons.

But the Suffolk coast does not show all loss. In the north much land has been

gained in the region of Beccles, which was at one time close to the sea, and one of

the finest spreads of shingle in England extends from Aideburgh to Bawdry. This

shingle has silted up many a Suffolk port, but it has proved a very effectual barrier

against the inroads of the sea. Norden's map of the coast made in 16012 shows this

wonderful mass of shingle, which has greatly increased since Norden's day. It has

been growing in a southerly direction, until the Aide River had until recently an

estuary ten miles in length. But in 1907 the sea asserted itself, and "burst through

the stony barrier, making a passage for the exit of the river one mile further north,

and leaving a vast stretch of shingle and two deserted river-channels as a protection

to the Marshes of Hollesley from further inroads of the sea."3 Formerly the River

Alde flowed direct to the sea just south of the town of Aldeburgh. Perhaps some

day it may be able to again force a passage near its ancient course or by Havergate

Island. This alteration in the course of rivers is very remarkable, and may be

observed at Christ Church, Hants.

It is pathetic to think of the historic churches, beautiful villages, and smiling

pastures that have been swept away by the relentless sea. There are no less than

twelve towns and villages in Yorkshire that have been thus buried, and five in

Suffolk. Ravensburgh, in the former county, was once a flourishing seaport. Here

landed Henry IV in 1399, and Edward IV in 1471. It returned two members to

Parliament. An old picture of the place shows the church, a large cross, and houses;

but it has vanished with the neighbouring villages of Redmare, Tharlethorp,

Frismarch, and Potterfleet, and "left not a wrack behind." Leland mentions it in

1538, after which time its place in history and on the map knows it no more. The

ancient church of Kilnsea lost half its fabric in 1826, and the rest followed in 1831.

Alborough Church and the Castle of Grimston have entirely vanished. Mapleton

Church was formerly two miles from the sea; it is now on a cliff with the sea at its

feet, awaiting the final attack of the all-devouring enemy. Nearly a century ago

Owthorne Church and churchyard were overwhelmed, and the shore was strewn

with ruins and shattered coffins. On the Tyneside the destruction has been

remarkable and rapid. In the district of Saltworks there was a house built standing

on the cliff, but it was never finished, and fell a prey to the waves. At Percy Square

an inn and two cottages have been destroyed. The edge of the cliff in 1827 was

eighty feet seaward, and the banks of Percy Square receded a hundred and eighty

feet between the years 1827 and 1892. Altogether four acres have disappeared. An

old Roman building, locally known as "Gingling Geordie's Hole," and large masses

of the Castle Cliff fell into the sea in the 'eighties. The remains of the once

flourishing town of Seaton, on the Durham coast, can be discovered amid the sands

at low tide. The modern village has sunk inland, and cannot now boast of an

ancient chapel dedicated to St. Thomas of Canterbury, which has been devoured by

the waves.

Skegness, on the Lincolnshire coast, was a large and important town; it boasted of a

castle with strong fortifications and a church with a lofty spire; it now lies deep

beneath the devouring sea, which no guarding walls could conquer. Far out at sea,

beneath the waves, lies old Cromer Church, and when storms rage its bells are said

to chime. The churchyard wherein was written the pathetic ballad "The Garden of

Sleep" is gradually disappearing, and "the graves of the fair women that sleep by

the cliffs by the sea" have been outraged, and their bodies scattered and devoured

by the pitiless waves.

One of the greatest prizes of the sea is the ancient city of Dunwich, which dates

back to the Roman era. The Domesday Survey shows that it was then a

considerable town having 236 burgesses. It was girt with strong walls; it possessed

an episcopal palace, the seat of the East Anglian bishopric; it had (so Stow asserts)

fifty-two churches, a monastery, brazen gates, a town hall, hospitals, and the

dignity of possessing a mint. Stow tells of its departed glories, its royal and

episcopal palaces, the sumptuous mansion of the mayor, its numerous churches and

its windmills, its harbour crowded with shipping, which sent forth forty vessels for

the king's service in the thirteenth century. Though Dunwich was an important

place, Stow's description of it is rather exaggerated. It could never have had more

than ten churches and monasteries. Its "brazen gates" are mythical, though it had its

Lepers' Gate, South Gate, and others. It was once a thriving city of wealthy

merchants and industrious fishermen. King John granted to it a charter. It suffered

from the attacks of armed men as well as from the ravages of the sea. Earl Bigot

and the revolting barons besieged it in the reign of Edward I. Its decay was gradual.

In 1342, in the parish of St. Nicholas, out of three hundred houses only eighteen

remained. Only seven out of a hundred houses were standing in the parish of St.

Martin. St. Peter's parish was devastated and depopulated. It had a small round

church, like that at Cambridge, called the Temple, once the property of the Knights

Templars, richly endowed with costly gifts. This was a place of sanctuary, as were

the other churches in the city. With the destruction of the houses came also the

decay of the port which no ships could enter. Its rival, Southwold, attracted the

vessels of strangers. The markets and fairs were deserted. Silence and ruin reigned

over the doomed town, and the ruined church of All Saints is all that remains of its

former glories, save what the storms sometimes toss along the beach for the study

and edification of antiquaries.

As we proceed down the coast we find that the sea is still gaining on the land. The

old church at Walton-on-the-Naze was swept away, and is replaced by a new one.

A flourishing town existed at Reculver, which dates back to the Romans. It was a

prosperous place, and had a noble church, which in the sixteenth century was a mile

from the sea. Steadily have the waves advanced, until a century ago the church fell

into the sea, save two towers which have been preserved by means of elaborate sea-

walls as a landmark for sailors.

The fickle sea has deserted some towns and destroyed their prosperity; it has

receded all along the coast from Folkestone to the Sussex border, and left some of

the famous Cinque Ports, some of which we shall visit again, Lymne, Romney,

Hythe, Richborough, Stonor, Sandwich, and Sarre high and dry, with little or no

access to the sea. Winchelsea has had a strange career. The old town lies beneath

the waves, but a new Winchelsea arose, once a flourishing port, but now deserted

and forlorn with the sea a mile away. Rye, too, has been forsaken. It was once an

island; now the little Rother stream conveys small vessels to the sea, which looks

very far away.

We cannot follow all the victories of the sea. We might examine the inroads made

by the waves at Selsea. There stood the first cathedral of the district before

Chichester was founded. The building is now beneath the sea, and since Saxon

times half of the Selsea Bill has vanished. The village of Selsea rested securely in

the centre of the peninsula, but only half a mile now separates it from the sea. Some

land has been gained near this projecting headland by an industrious farmer. His

farm surrounded a large cove with a narrow mouth through which the sea poured. If

he could only dam up that entrance, he thought he could rescue the bed of the cove

and add to his acres. He bought an old ship and sank it by the entrance and

proceeded to drain. But a tiresome storm arose and drove the ship right across the

cove, and the sea poured in again. By no means discouraged, he dammed up the

entrance more effectually, got rid of the water, increased his farm by many acres,

and the old ship makes an admirable cow-shed.

Disused Mooring-Post on bank of the Rother, Rye

The Isle of Wight in remote geological periods was part of the mainland. The Scilly

Isles were once joined with Cornwall, and were not severed until the fourteenth

century, when by a mighty storm and flood, 140 churches and villages were

destroyed and overwhelmed, and 190 square miles of land carried away. Much land

has been lost in the Wirral district of Cheshire. Great forests have been

overwhelmed, as the skulls and bones of deer and horse and fresh-water shell-fish

have been frequently discovered at low tide. Fifty years ago a distance of half a

mile separated Leasowes Castle from the sea; now its walls are washed by the

waves. The Pennystone, off the Lancashire coast by Blackpool, tells of a

submerged village and manor, about which cluster romantic legends.

Such is the sad record of the sea's destruction, for which the industrious

reclamation of land, the compensations wrought by the accumulation of shingle and

sand dunes and the silting of estuaries can scarcely compensate us. How does the

sea work this? There are certain rock-boring animals, such as the Pholas, which

help to decay the rocks. Each mollusc cuts a series of augur-holes from two to four

inches deep, and so assists in destroying the bulwarks of England. Atmospheric

action, the disintegration of soft rocks by frost and by the attack of the sea below,

all tend in the same direction. But the foolish action of man in removing shingle,

the natural protection of our coasts, is also very mischievous. There is an instance

of this in the Hall Sands and Bee Sands, Devon. A company a few years ago

obtained authority to dredge both from the foreshore and sea-bed. The

Commissioners of Woods and Forests and the Board of Trade granted this

permission, the latter receiving a royalty of £50 and the former £150. This occurred

in 1896. Soon afterwards a heavy gale arose and caused an immense amount of

damage, the result entirely of this dredging. The company had to pay heavily, and

the royalties were returned to them. This is only one instance out of many which

might be quoted. We are an illogical nation, and our regulations and authorities are

weirdly confused. It appears that the foreshore is under the control of the Board of

Trade, and then a narrow strip of land is ruled over by the Commissioners of

Woods and Forests. Of course these bodies do not agree; different policies are

pursued by each, and the coast suffers. Large sums are sometimes spent in coast-

defence works. At Spurn no less than £37,433 has been spent out of Parliamentary

grants, besides £14,227 out of the Mercantile Marine Fund. Corporations or county

authorities, finding their coasts being worn away, resolve to protect it. They obtain

a grant in aid from Parliament, spend vast sums, and often find their work entirely

thrown away, or proving itself most disastrous to their neighbours. If you protect

one part of the coast you destroy another. Such is the rule of the sea. If you try to

beat it back at one point it will revenge itself on another. If only you can cause

shingle to accumulate before your threatened town or homestead, you know you

can make the place safe and secure from the waves. But if you stop this flow of

shingle you may protect your own homes, but you deprive your neighbours of this

safeguard against the ravages of the sea. It was so at Deal. The good folks of Deal

placed groynes in order to stop the flow of shingle and protect the town. They did

their duty well; they stopped the shingle and made a good bulwark against the sea.

With what result? In a few years' time they caused the destruction of Sandown,

which had been deprived of its natural protection. Mr. W. Whitaker, F.R.S., who

has walked along the whole coast from Norfolk to Cornwall, besides visiting other

parts of our English shore, and whose contributions to the Report of the Royal

Commission on Coast Erosion are so valuable, remembers when a boy the Castle of

Sandown, which dated from the time of Henry VIII. It was then in a sound

condition and was inhabited. Now it is destroyed, and the batteries farther north

have gone too. The same thing is going on at Dover. The Admiralty Pier causes the

accumulation of shingle on its west side, and prevents it from following its natural

course in a north-easterly direction. Hence the base of the cliffs on the other side of

the pier and harbour is left bare and unprotected; this aids erosion, and not

unfrequently do we hear of the fall of the chalk cliffs.

Isolated schemes for the prevention of coast erosion are of little avail. They can do

no good, and only increase the waste and destruction of land in neighbouring

shores. Stringent laws should be passed to prevent the taking away of shingle from

protecting beaches, and to prohibit the ploughing of land near the edge of cliffs,

which greatly assists atmospheric destructive action from above. The State has

recently threatened the abandonment of the coastguard service. This would be a

disastrous policy. Though the primary object of coastguards, the prevention of

smuggling, has almost passed away, the old sailors who act as guardians of our

coast-line render valuable services to the country. They are most useful in looking

after the foreshore. They save many lives from wrecked vessels, and keep watch

and ward to guard our shores, and give timely notice of the advance of a hostile

fleet, or of that ever-present foe which, though it affords some protection for our

island home from armed invasion, does not fail to exact a heavy tithe from the land

it guards, and has destroyed so many once flourishing towns and villages by its

ceaseless attack.

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