The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Walking Tours 1827-32
• 29.: Walking Tour of Sussex 20-30 July, 1827
• 30.: Walking Tour of Berkshire, Buckinghamshire, Oxfordshire, and Surrey 3-15 July, 1828
• 31.: Walking Tour of Yorkshire and the Lake District July-august 1831
• 32.: Walking Tour of Hampshire, West Sussex, and the Isle of Wight 19 July-6 August, 1832
• 33.: Walking Tour of Cornwall 3-9 October, 1832
• Diary 1854
• 34.: Diary 8 January-15 April, 1854
• Appendices
• Appendix A: the Manuscripts
• Appendix B: Journal and Notebook: Ancillary Materials (1820-21)
• I. Plan of a Dialogue On Government
• II.: “lieues De Poste”
• III.: Translation of Cicero
• IV.: Letter From Lady Bentham to James Mill
• V.: Letters From Richard Doane
• Appendix C: Textual Emendations
• Appendix D: Index of Persons and Works Cited, With Variants and Notes

29.

Walking Tour of Sussex

20-30 JULY, 1827

20th July 1827

This morning I commenced a short tour of the Sussex coast in company with Graham and Grant. I was taken up at Leatherhead by a Chichester coach which proceeded through Bookham, Effingham, East Horsley, Clandon and Merrow. The road skirts the foot of the Ranmer hills, of which however the ascent on the north is so gradual that little is visible of their peculiarities except an occasional chalk pit. To the right, although we had the advantage of a clear horizon and a blue sky chequered with flying white clouds, by far the best weather for surveying the country, we could perceive nothing remarkable for the first eight miles except a black ridge of high land which must lie near Cobham,1 but of which, although I have often observed it from Ranmer common, I do not know the name. N.B. I have since discovered that it does lie just beyond Cobham—and is called St. George’s Hill.2 Towards Guildford however the distant country to the right becomes less monotonous, and a long ridge of high hills presents itself in front, which must extend from Farnham to Bagshot or beyond. After passing through the cheerful old town of Guildford, and crossing the Wey, we turned to the left, and entered into the valley which extends from that place to Godalming. We left the vale of Albury, and the beautiful hills which almost close the mouth of it, to the westward, and pursued our course between a low rather tame range of hills on the right, and a series of higher and more abrupt insulated hills covered with oak copse on the side next us, and prettily feathered at the top. Through this country we proceeded to Godalming, an old and very ill paved town, much less clean and well built than Guildford, but apparently of the same date, that is to say, the best houses built about the reign of Charles II, the others about that of Queen Elizabeth.3 The place, I believe, is chiefly remarkable for its pleasant situation, and its bread, which we were told is the best in England: but this will not be easily credited by any person who has lived at Dorking. After Godalming the country rises for a time, and the road passes over some high sandy ground, leaving to the left the last of the range of sand hills which commence with Boars hill and end at Godalming. In ascending the sand hill a fine view opens behind of the ridge called the Hog’s back, which extends from Guildford to Farnham. In gradually descending into the plain of Sussex, we passed to the right, the high and peculiarly shaped elevation of Hindhead, which seems composed of several lofty eminences, some of them conical, united together by short ridges, and a little farther we passed the still higher eminence called Blackdown hill, which rises gradually from the foot of Hindhead, passes into a long ridge and ends abruptly towards the south like Leith hill. The vegetation and general cast of these hills, which are all of sand, very much resembles in appearance the sand hills near Dorking. The smaller occasional elevations and diversified appearance of the well wooded country through which we were passing, added to the occasional glimpses which we caught of Leith hill and the whole of that high range of country, rendered this drive one of the most agreeable which I ever experienced. After Blackdown hill there is an almost continued series of sand hills to the right, not connected into a ridge, but, like the Leith hill range, entirely separate. We skirted Lord Egremont’s park4 for about two miles, which seemed as far as we could observe, to have nothing remarkable about it except its size, and arrived at Petworth, a very old ill built town, with narrow and winding streets, like many other old towns upon a hill. We could perceive that the arrival of a coach from London was a rare sort of event (although occurring every day) by the number of people whom it drew to the windows to observe us.—For some distance before Petworth we could perceive distinctly before us the range of the South Downs, which we easily recognized by the waving lines, characteristic of chalk hills. On leaving Petworth we could see and distinguish clearly two great ranges of chalk hills, the one extending far westward into Hampshire, but eastward only a short distance, the other appearing to rise somewhat farther south than the termination of the first, and extending far to the east. After descending from Petworth, we perceived, in the valley of the little river Rother, almost the first meadows we had seen: the country thus far being entirely woodland or corn, the corn much less advanced than we had found it between Leatherhead and Guildford, probably because the country was more inclosed and shaded by trees and hedgerows. After crossing the Rother, we commenced ascending the western branch of the South Downs. The view to the north, in ascending, is among the most delightful I ever beheld. Not only, to the east, we could perceive the whole series of sand hills from Dorking to Godalming, but in the direction of Hindhead and Blackdown the country was thickly studded with beautiful sand hills, extending nearly as far as the celebrated Selborne. On reaching the top of the hill, we perceived that this chain is composed of two complete ridges, one to the north, the other to the south, with a long valley of considerable elevation between them. In this remarkable valley lies the village or hamlet of Waltham and it wants nothing but water, the usual deficiency in chalk hills, to be perfectly lovely. The descent from the further ridge is gradual, through a thick but very beautiful copse. The plain of Sussex lay before us, the Downs behind, the sea most visibly to our left at the distance of about eight miles. From these hills our road lay over a dead level to Chichester, which we reached about four o’clock. While our dinner was preparing we walked into the cathedral, which is small, and not very well arranged for architectural beauty in the interior, being too much filled up, but on the outside it is one of the most elegant buildings of the sort which I have seen. Chichester, which is not a very pretty or well built town, has nothing remarkable except its cathedral and the cross, as it is called, I suppose from being situated where two roads cross, for it bears no resemblance whatever to that figure, but is a fine specimen of the oldest Gothic architecture, as the cathedral is (if I mistake not) of the latest.—After dining at the Dolphin, we walked to Bognor, over a dull and dreary flat, and arrived at that watering place just in time to perceive its extreme ugliness both in what pertains to nature and art. We put up at the Claremont hotel, preferring the name as well as the look of the building to a new house of much larger dimensions under the pompous title of The Hotel.

21st

In the morning before breakfast we walked out and looked at the town, which in situation possesses as few advantages as a place on the sea side can have, and in appearance, though an insignificant village, is full of abortive attempts to rival Brighton. We walked westward a little way on the beach, which we found still duller and more monotonous than the sea shore usually is. It is not indeed wholly destitute of trees, but there are none of any great height, and both trees and hedges uniformly grow away from the sea, so that the side of a hedge which is next the sea is as bare as if all the leaves had been picked off, or as if it were winter on one side of the hedge and summer on the other. This walk however afforded the Atriplex laciniata and littoralis, Hordeum maritimum, Phleum arenarium and Beta maritima. On leaving Bognor, we continued to follow the beach towards the east, which remained equally dull and uninteresting, nor could we even walk upon it with any comfort, since even the sand which the sea left behind it in retiring was scattered all over with shingle. Corn however grows quite down to the seaside, but is far less advanced towards ripeness than we had found it farther north. The sole ornament of this coast is the Glaucium luteum or horn poppy, which grows in immense abundance among the shingle. The only grasses which abound are the Triticum repens, which is perfectly glaucous by the sea side, and Hordeum maritimum, which grows in such profusion as almost to form a bed. We found in this morning’s walk the Poa maritima, Medicago sativa, Apium petroselinum and graveolens, Scirpus maritimus, and Conium maculatum: the latter we had also found near Chichester. It is remarkable that I have never seen this plant in Surrey though very common all over Sussex. After passing two or three stations of the preventive service,5 and meeting one of the men in almost every two miles, but seeing scarcely any ships, as those which come down the Channel put further to the southward in order to turn Beachy Head, and Selsea point, we discovered the river Arun by the vessels which we perceived in it. We crossed it by a ferry, and perambulated the town of Little Hampton which appears to be wholly built of the flints picked up on the seashore; pointed and in a few of the best houses faced with brick; but flint composes the side and back walls even of these, and almost the whole of a curious new church which they have recently erected at this place in rather better taste than has been usual lately. It is more unpretending than Bognor, and therefore less ugly; but there is nothing positively pretty about it except the little gardens in front of the cottages, which in general are exceedingly well stocked with flowers. This town I believe is becoming a place of some resort as what is called a watering place, though surely no place can be less suited for acquiring health than the low lands at the mouth of a tide river, overflowed every spring tide. We walked from this place to Arundel by the coach road, which we found more cheerful and diversified as well as fortunately shorter than the road from Chichester to Bognor. When, on climbing the hill beyond Leominster, we caught the first view of Arundel, its castle and park on the opposite hill, and of the South Downs to the north, separated from it only by a narrow valley, we were extremely struck by the sight.—A town on a hill is always striking when seen from the opposite hill, but here the fine Gothic building which overlooks the town, one of the few specimens remaining of the perfect Gothic castle, and the park behind rising above it, and spreading itself over a high ridge of chalk hills, renders the view when it first breaks upon the approaching traveller, one of the most striking conceivable. On stopping at the immense inn called the Norfolk arms, we were much annoyed by discovering that we were too late to see the Castle that day, and that the next day, Sunday, it could not be seen. We however climbed the hill, and first looked at the church, which is built in the cathedral shape, with the steeple in the middle: and the interior, at least that half of it which is in front of the organ, is considerably finer than that of Chichester cathedral. The other half, which is the Gothic of a considerably earlier period, is, it seems, the burial place of the Fitz Alans, earls of Arundel; it was destroyed by Oliver Cromwell (so at least we were told by the woman who shews the church) and has never been restored till now, when the present duke of Norfolk is about to repair it.6 We could perceive nothing remarkable in the interior of it except some curiously carved woodwork. An owl has her nest in the inside, which is indeed a fit place for her. On leaving the church, from the roof of which I should first say that we had a very fine view of the surrounding country, it being at the very top of the hill on which Arundel stands,—we skirted the park for a short distance, reserving a fuller view of it for the next day. We passed through some beautiful hanging beech woods on the sides of a very deep dell; from which issues a copious stream as clear as that of Carshalton, and saw a chalk cliff of considerable height, which affords shelter to a number of jack daws. Near the base of this cliff we found the Dipsacus pilosus. The valley below Arundel, through which the Arun flows, is perfectly flat, and filled with meadows which must I should think be overflowed in winter, if not every spring tide, for they are scarcely to appearance, above the level of the sea. The hills which inclose it are low and tame below Arundel; above that town the valley gradually narrows, and the hills which contain it are high, being on one side the hill on which the castle and park are situated, on the other the downs which descend southward from the range of hills commonly called the South Downs. There is a gap in those hills through which the Arun flows, very similar in appearance to the gap between Box Hill and Norbury. The termination of the western range very much resembles that of Norbury Park, but there is nothing to the east so striking as Box Hill.

22nd Sunday

This day set in rainy at an early hour, but after having remained at Arundel till eleven o’clock, seeing some appearances of its clearing up, we pursued our journey through Arundel Park. The road from Arundel to London passes through the park, and by far the greatest portion of it lies west of that road, but this part is not open to the public, though it appears equally ornamented with the rest. We traversed that part of it which lies east of the road and nearest to the valley of the Arun. This covers both sides of an extremely deep dell, such as is not unfrequently observed in chalk hills. A ridge rises from the valley to a considerable height, then turns round and descends again parallel to itself leaving a dell between. Other dells run up from the principal dell to the two ridges, particularly on the eastern side: we followed the west. At the very bottom of the dell, issues from under the chalk the beautiful body of water which I mentioned in my journal of yesterday: above which, on the side next the town, is the tall hanging wood of beeches also mentioned in the same journal. We ascended to the summit of the ridge, the whole of which is composed of a beautiful turfy down with here and there a beech copse, and issued out through a castellated gate (for about Arundel everything is castellated) upon the broad open downs. Here we met the London road, which we followed across the downs and a little way down the hill, and should doubtless have enjoyed the prospect extremely, had not the rain here begun to increase. To the west of it, extends a fine open down towards Dale Park (Mr. John Smith’s new acquisition)7 and Eartham: and we could now clearly perceive that the western range of the South Downs, which we crossed at Waltham, instead of dropping down over the valley of the Arun, merely turned round and descended gradually by the ridge we had now ascended, after the manner of chalk hills to Arundel where it stops, having nothing but low insignificant hills towards the sea. We returned to the Park Gate where a road turns off to Steyning. By this road we descended gently, by a pretty woody slope, into the valley of the Arun, and put into a little village named Houghton to wait for fair weather: but as we saw no signs of improvement in the sky, we crossed the Arun, which, we could perceive, continues to wind through the same flat low lying meadows to the north of the Downs, as it does to the south,—and leaving the coach road to Steyning, ascended the Downs. The rain soon after set in with such violence, and the clouds descended so thick upon the summits of the highest hills, that I can give but an indifferent account of the Downs or of the surrounding country between the valleys of the Arun and of the Addur.8 But we could plainly see that the Downs at first consisted, as at Waltham of two ridges, with a valley between them, but much more bare of trees; afterwards of three ridges, a series of curious round-ended eminences seeming to rise in the middle of the valley, which seemed about the same time to widen, and the southernmost ridge to slope away towards the sea. We could perceive indistinctly through the mist, as we walked along the northernmost ridge, that many of those furzy dells, so frequent in chalk hills, came up the side of the ridge from the intermediate valley. We could see little of the plain except sundry churches and commons and fields just at the base of the hills, and frequently not even that. We crossed the ravine through which the road from London to Worthing mounts upon the downs and after passing a round hill* covered with wood which either was a camp, or is laid out in imitation of one. At length, after some difficulty in finding our way through the clouds we arrived on the hill above Steyning, to which we descended through cornfields, and at which we arrived perfectly drenched. We were taken good care of by the old people at the White Horse, at which we put up.

23rd

After raining till a late hour this morning it ceased raining and began to shew symptoms of clearing up, but we felt by no means certain of a fine day when we left Steyning. Steyning, though a borough, is an exceedingly small place, and, as we had some reason to know from the difficulty we found in obtaining certain articles which we wanted, a place of very inconsiderable commerce. It is a mean looking place too, in its interior, though looking tolerably well when seen from the high grounds above it: nor is there any thing remarkable in its appearance, except that the public footpath on one side of the street is planted in several places with flowers, sometimes under the walls of the houses, sometimes on the side next the street; which gives it a very pretty and cheerful appearance. Steyning lies at the entrance of another of the valleys, which intersect the range of the South Downs: this is the valley of the Addur, one of the little rivers which rise in the plain of Sussex, and which would be inconsiderable and perhaps pretty if the tide did not come up them and render them navigable and ugly. This valley is also called Shoreham gap, from the two Shorehams, which lie the one near, the other close upon, the mouth of the Adur. This valley, at Steyning, is well cultivated and contains some fine cornfields; it continues pretty for some distance below. It gradually narrows, and we soon perceived that the round hill with the wood upon it, which we observed yesterday, is in reality the boundary of Shoreham gap, although we had to follow a long receding ridge beyond it before we came to the spot where the plain appears to narrow itself into a valley, and where Steyning stands.—On leaving Steyning we pursued for some distance the Shoreham and Brighton road, turning aside only to view the ruins of Bramber castle, which lies close to Steyning, and which must have been strong from the steep though not high elevation on which it stands, though now looking very like any other ruin. Parts of the outer wall, and one of the walls of a single tower, are all that now remain. The road passes through the village of Bramber, which is rather extensive. It then crosses the Adur, and soon after leaves the valley, and crosses over part of the eastern hill, to save, as I imagine, one of the sinuosities of the valley or perhaps to be out of all danger from floods on the low ground. We also left the valley, but did not climb the hill in the same direction: We ascended to the top of the downs, of which this point is called Beeding hill; and could from its summit perceive almost the whole of the gap from Steyning to the sea, with the mouth of the Adur, the town of New Shoreham close upon the sea, in the eastern angle formed between it and the Adur, and the whole series of hills or downs which compose the western côteau of the gap, commencing from the round wooded hill, or camp, so often mentioned, and terminating not far from the sea: for the downs, as we had suspected yesterday, spread themselves out in the direction of the sea, and came much nearer to it in the direction of Shoreham, than they were near Arundel, though gradually becoming lower as they approached it in so much that we could for a considerable distance see the sea over the top of them, from the hill where we stood. The horizon in that direction was enveloped in thick and heavy clouds so that the rising of the sea (which like any other plain of course seems to rise when seen from a height) was completely confounded with the clouds: and to me at least, who am unused to sea views, and could not at first justly estimate the extent of the visible horizon where unlimited by any thing except the convexity of the earth, it appeared as if the more distant of the vessels which we perceived were actually sailing at a great altitude in the clouds. On the side of the gap on which we now were, as well as on the other, and indeed still more than on the other, the downs now spread themselves out towards the sea, so as entirely to lose the character of a ridge, except on the northern side, and might be considered a range of hills, rising very abruptly on one side, sloping very gradually on the other, and intersected on that side in a direction perpendicular to the ridge by several prodigiously long dells, cultivated in the lower part and bare in the higher. Had it been our object to arrive as expeditiously as possible at the place where we intended to abide for the night, we should have kept on the ridge of the hills; but wishing to look down towards the coast, we proceeded diagonally across the downs, nearly in the direction of Brighton and soon perceived, in addition to the port of New Shoreham at the mouth of the Adur, the town of Old Shoreham on the same side of the river higher up, the village of Lower Lancing beyond the river on the coast, and the town of Worthing still further to the west, which was enveloped in a sea fog, though on the heights we were free from clouds, except over our heads. As we rose over the top of the descending ridge on which we were, and looked down into a long deep dell or ravine, which extended to Brighton, we could perceive that that place, a considerable part of which we could now see, became enveloped in like manner in a sea fog, which was moving rapidly to the north east and after leaving Brighton ascended to the heights beyond us to the east, to which we were about to proceed, and which we observed enveloped in fog as we sat on the ridge where we were. We at length summoned courage and descended the ravine, on the sides of which was a large quantity of South Down sheep, the black faced breed, of which we observed always two or three flocks within sight during the whole of this day’s walk. After we had crossed this ravine and ascended the opposite hill, we found that we had the same process to repeat, a second ravine lying in our way, which also abutted at Brighton. This time we did not cross the ravine, but went round it, as it was filled and covered, at the spot where we were, with a very large field of beautiful oats. Having gone round another ravine in a similar manner, and been rewarded with nothing but two specimens of the Ophrys aranifera, and a fine view of Brighton; for the downs here are extremely tame, and appear to be still tamer immediately above that town; we ascended to the main ridge, from which we obtained a splendid view of the plain of Sussex bounded on the north by the Surrey sand hills and to the west by Blackdown hill and Hindhead, both of which we could most distinctly perceive, as well as the high range of the Western South Downs from Waltham to Arundel gap, and the Eastern from Arundel gap to Shoreham gap, including the camp so often mentioned, which served us as a landmark during a great part of this day’s walk. The air, which during the early part of the morning had been oppressively sultry, now became fresh and clear; we had a fine breeze on the heights, and the weather after being for a long time dubious, became now (about two o’clock) decidedly fine, and sunny, though with some clouds, which, and the clearness of the air after yesterday’s rain, rendered our view of the plain, which we scarcely lost sight of during the rest of the day, still finer than its inherent beauties of themselves sufficed to make it.—After proceeding a short way along the ridge, we perceived at the foot of the hills the village of Poynings, close to the road from Brighton to Horsham and Dorking; and a ravine in front of us, through which that road ascends the downs. In order to cross this ravine, we descended a very steep declivity on our right, and ascended beyond it into the higher part of the ravine in question, from which, when we looked back, we perceived that the declivity we had climbed and that which we had descended formed the two sides of one of those dells which so often run up into chalk hills, but I never saw one in which the hilly sides were so bold or the bottom more neatly cut out. I have since learned that this is the celebrated Devil’s Dyke. We ascended the eastern side of the ravine, from the summit of which we could now not only perceive the tower on Leith hill,9 with the whole of that range of sand hills, but also the ridge of chalk hills which terminates at Box hill, the slope of Denbies, and the Dorking gap together with the chalk pits above Reigate. At a considerable distance south of these but considerably north of the South Downs, we observed a range of tolerably high sand hills stretching from West to East, which we supposed to be the range of St. Leonard’s forest. We saw more and more of this as we gradually left the Surry10 hills behind us to the left. We soon came to another ravine and accordingly descended the side of it on which we were, in a sloping direction, towards the village of Pyecombe in the ravine. The downy slope of this hill was covered with the Genista tinctoria and Rosa spinosissima, but of the latter we could discover only one specimen in flower, the remainder having gone by: The lower part of the descent lay through corn fields, in which, as in all other places which we have observed in our tour, the corn appeared fine. Two Brighton roads meet at the little village of Pyecombe; the road through Reigate and Crawley, and that through Red Hill and Cuckfield. We crossed these roads, and ascended, by a gentle slope, the other side of the ravine, from which all the remainder of our day’s march lay on the summit of the hill. We perceived that the downs here returned to their original form of a double ridge with an irregular valley between; at least this was the form in which they appeared to us, though beyond the south ridge they probably spread themselves out towards the sea. The north ridge, a little beyond the last ravine, turns short round to the south towards the other, dropping down into the valley however, before it meets it; which accounts for the apparent termination of the South Downs at this point when seen from the hills about Dorking. We here took our last view of the Surry hills, which we now saw with extreme distinctness as well as Hindhead but Blackdown hill and the western range of the South Downs, though perfectly visible, were greatly obscured by a white glaring haze. At this point, we were in the centre of a vast amphitheatre bounded by hills on almost all sides. We could see far beyond Petworth, to the west, as far as the country about Hailsham to the east, as far as Dorking to the north, and to the south the Downs, and an immense extent of sea, appearing like a range of high hills. We seemed about as far elevated above the plain, as we appear when on the top of Leith hill, and this ridge is probably as high above its base as Leith hill, though not so high above the sea. We soon came in sight of another large gap in the Downs, the valley of the Ouse, which we could trace quite down to its mouth, and to the tall cliffs about Newhaven and Seaford: this gap being wider and less sinuose than those of the Arun or Adur. Chalk hills, though much lower than those on which we were, seemed to rise beyond the gap and extend themselves a short way at the entrance of the valley in the same line with those which we were upon: but what I have before called the southern range of the South Downs rose up on the eastern side of the Ouse into high bold hills, very steep toward the north and sloping towards the sea. We crossed another Brighton road, that through Godstone, and proceeded along the ridge above Plumpton (a village and estate on the plain) enjoying all the way a most delightful prospect, in which the verdure and brightness of the plain contrasted charmingly with the dreariness of the Downs, now somewhat obscured by clouds; until at last these hills dropped down, and so did we, into the valley of the Ouse in which the large town of Lewes lay before us, and in this, after crossing another of the roads from London to Brighton, viz. that by Lewes, (which, curiously enough, crosses a hill instead of coming up the valley, and enters at the further end of the town instead of the nearer) we took up our residence for the night at the Star Inn. In the evening we strolled out to take a view of the town, which is very considerable, having three churches and a principal street full a mile in length. It is, great part of it, on the slope of a hill, and is one of the neatest and most cheerful country towns I ever saw, as its valley is one of the most richly cultivated. We observed late this evening a meteorological phenomenon not, I believe, very uncommon, but well worthy of notice; very heavy clouds hanging over the hill, and blown continually over the edge of it by a brisk wind, but dissipated and entirely disappearing immediately after.

24th

We commenced the business of this morning by visiting the Castle, which is an old building on the highest point of the town, only partially preserved, but not in ruins, Mr. Kemp (who holds it of the three Lords of Lewes)11 having fitted it up to be inhabited by the person who shews it, and occasionally for a night by himself. What remains of it is chiefly two watchtowers, one of which we ascended and looked down from the roof of it upon the valley of the Ouse, the town of Lewes and the surrounding hills. The woman who shewed the place pointed out to us seven churches instead of three, as I had supposed; all of them in the town, or suburbs connected with it. At the foot of the hill is an Infant School, which we inspected: it is a general school, there being a Church of England one beside; I was therefore glad to perceive, among the patrons and benefactors of this school the families of all the candidates for Lewes at the last election, a Mr. Kemp, Mr. Donovan and Sir John Shelley.12 It seems an extremely well managed school and the ideas given to the children are rather less exclusively religious than is frequently the case at these schools. We left Lewes by an extensive suburb called Cliff, on the opposite side of the river, and commenced climbing the hill above it, which is one of the chalk hills which I mentioned in my journal of yesterday as lying nearly in a line with those about Plumpton, though decidedly farther to the south. From the ridge of this hill we descended into a ravine which runs up into the hill in the manner so often described. The bottom of the hill, which was rather highly cultivated, afforded us several specimens of a somewhat rare plant, the Papaver hybridum. We went up the ravine for some distance, and at last ascended the other of the ridges which include it; we then mounted up to the top of the ridge, from which we observed, from a seat which had been generously placed there, the surrounding country. We found that the hills on which we then were, entirely ceased immediately beyond the hill where we were sitting. The plain which bounded them appeared flat, dull, and uninteresting, mostly covered with water meadows without hedges, hedgerows, or trees of any kind. To the south, between us and the bold ridge of hills mentioned in yesterday’s journal lay a valley richly laid out in corn fields like the valleys at Dorking, though of little extent, opening on one side into the valley of the Ouse, on the other into the plain. To the west lay the valley of the Ouse itself, which is the ugliest gap we have yet fallen in with. The Ouse, like all rivers artificially made navigable, looks like a mere canal: the valley is as flat as a deal table; a quality which adds beauty to a valley when the hills which bound it are bold and abrupt, but spoils it when, as in this case, they ascend gradually and tamely. The whole valley is filled with water meadows, which are inclosed by ditches instead of hedges or trees; and though more than a dozen small villages lay in sight, none of them were quite in the valley, but all of them a little, though a very little way up the hill, shewing that the valley is frequently flooded, indeed I should think that spring tides must almost overflow it. We descended into the little valley to the south, where after passing the village of Glynd, and crossing one or two meadows of extremely coarse herbage, we fell in with the Glynd river, an ugly muddy canal-like stream, which falls into the Ouse, and into which the tide was running with great force. We crossed this river and the valley and then ascended the range of bold hills which extend, as I have before observed, towards the east, and which though so far south of the hills we yesterday traversed, are here the outermost ridge of the whole chain. Our object was, to make for the cliff above Newhaven, which we had observed from the Plumpton hills the day before. We could now plainly perceive Newhaven at the mouth of the river and as the downs spread out towards the sea, exactly as they appeared to do above Brighton, sloping extremely, and being intersected by dells which run up from the sea to the very top of the ridge, we thought that by following one of these dells we should reach the sea more agreeably than in any other way. We did not however go into the bottom of the dell, but followed it about half way up its western side. At first we encountered down, then furze, then down again for a short distance, and then ground which had been ploughed up and allowed to go out of culture, like that on Box hill; the first land of the sort which we had seen. We here found the Marrubium vulgare. We then met with some barley, also the first we had seen on the downs, all the corn which we had hitherto met with being either wheat or oats. The barley however seemed as fine as the other grains which we had met with in this country. We now descended by a chalky field-side into the ravine, which here turns away somewhat to the east; and perceiving a village in the bottom lower down, although the path to Newhaven seemed to lie further to the right we pursued the ravine. We found some fine wheat in the bottom, and a large field of lucerne; which we met with not unfrequently during the rest of this day’s walk and the deep green of which among these dry hills was highly ornamental. The hamlet of Norton, through which we now passed, is a wretched looking place, with the exception of one rather large cottage with a moderately large and richly stocked flower garden round it. We next skirted an immense barley-field—I should state that all the corn fields are uninclosed throughout the whole of the Downs. Here we again found the Papaver hybridum; and the edges of this and of all the other barley fields in the neighbourhood abound with the Caucalis nodosa. At the extremity of this field, and a little lower down than Norton, was the village of Bishopstone, which contained a church and some ugly but not poor-looking farm houses and barns. We continued to follow the valley quite down to the seaside. In the meadows at the bottom of it, south of Bishopstone, we saw some rather fine trees. At Bognor, and on the Downs from Poynings to Lewes, the trees were stunted, and grew away to the north east in a very marked manner; being the direction opposite to the sea, and to the prevailing wind. But here, being sheltered in that direction, the trees grew tolerably well. The dell is bounded to the west by the cliff already mentioned, above Newhaven: this we therefore missed. After searching a sort of bog or place of reeds in the bottom of the valley which was covered with Scirpus maritimus and Apium graveolens (wild celery) and in which we found the Samolus valerandi and Oenanthe pimpinelloides, we crossed the road which runs along the coast from Hastings to Brighton, and mounted a little sandy cliff over the sea, to the east, where we saw the Salvia verbenaca and our old friend the horn-poppy. Beyond this was a rather high chalk cliff immediately above the sea, which we climbed, and enjoyed the magnificent spectacle of the ocean spread out under our feet. The sky being now clear with a few clouds interspersed, we saw the sea of a deep blue intermixed with patches of white, which is its finest state. At the foot of this cliff was the old borough of Seaford, a rather shabby looking place, surrounded however by fine cornfields: we passed through it, and descending to the beach, found the Statice armeria, or common thrift, which we also saw in great abundance on the cliffs during all the remainder of our walk. Here we saw one of the Martello towers, put up to frighten Bonaparte:13 it seemed about ten feet high, and cut the most ridiculous figure imaginable. We climbed the next cliff, which was rather higher than the preceding, and from which we could perceive that the whole coast was skirted by such cliffs to Beachy Head, which is the southernmost point of Sussex, unless Selsea near the western border be farther south. From this hill we could perceive another gap in the hills, having a river in it and terminating in the small haven or bay termed Cuckmere haven. We descended the hill, and forded the stream, which, among the shingles, had not more than a foot of depth; much water being lost in the stones from which it oozes out here and there. We were rewarded by finding the Crambe maritima, or sea-cale a short way up the adjoining cliff. We ascended the cliff, and found that the coast from this point to Beachy Head resembled on a large scale a number of graves laid side by side, so regular and frequent were the ascents and descents. We met with stations of the preventive service every two or three miles and with the men themselves almost every half mile. This coast yielded to us a grass which I believe to be the Hordeum pratense; but a more striking object was the sea, rolling beneath us at a depth of from 200 to 300 feet, and a more interesting one was the flights of seagulls hovering and sporting about the cliffs; we admired the extreme beauty of their flight, in which their wings scarcely appear to move. Almost as soon as we had passed over Beachy Head, the summit and extremity of the highest of these grave-like promontories, the coast turns off almost at right angles, having sloped E.S.E. almost from Shoreham, and turning now almost directly N.E. Here the downs suddenly cease, and the flats commence: and though it was now nearly dark, we could perceive the town of Eastbourne a little way beyond the foot of the hill to which place we descended, and in which (at the New Inn) we took up our quarters for the night.

25th

Our perambulations in the South Downs were now finished, and the remainder of our walk lay through a comparatively flat country. We first went down to the sea. The village or small town of Eastbourne is about three quarters of a mile from the beach: the principal houses of entertainment for visitants are at the hamlet of South Bourne on the beach. The two together compose a tolerably pretty town, at least when compared with most of the other watering places on the Sussex coast. The vicinity of the South Downs and of Beachy Head is of itself sufficient to give this place a decided superiority, as far as regards situation, over such a place as Bognor. Here too there are trees, of tolerable magnitude, and not growing away from the sea, as we had observed in most other places, because the open side is here to the south east, and the place is sheltered from the prevailing, or South-west wind, by Beachy Head and the adjacent downs. We proceeded along the Pevensey road, between the sea and the South Downs, that is to say, their eastern boundary: for, as I have already mentioned, the chain, considered in regard to its length, drops here, but considered in its breadth it extends of course northward to the eastern extremity of the bold hills which commence south of Lewes. To our right now lay a long row of Martello towers, and the shingles of the beach, which are here extremely wide, and thickly covered with horn-poppy, echium, cynoglossum, and other common plants. To the left lay watermeadows divided from one another by ditches; in some of which the hay-harvest was not yet concluded. These ditches afforded the Hydrocharis morsus ranae, Typhya angustifolia or minor, Sparganium simplex, Cicuta virosa, Sagittaria sagittaefolia; they also abounded in the Butomus umbellatus and Scirpus maritimus. After two or three miles of this sort of country, the road lying over a dead flat, we came among some little sand hills, on which there were cornfields, but the corn, though every where fine, not much advanced for the season. We soon reached Pevensey, a shabby looking town of no great size, containing the ruins of a large castle, placed as those buildings usually are, on a little eminence; and surrounded by a moat. The greater part of the outer enceinte is preserved, and much of the walls of the keep: but in other respects it was just like any other ruin. On its walls we gathered the Anethum foeniculum, a fennel. On leaving Pevensey, we crossed, for several miles, a tract of country resembling Romney marsh, that is to say, composed of watermeadows intersected by ditches. The grass appeared good, and the cattle upon it, which were chiefly bullocks, the finest I had ever seen. But indeed all which we had seen since we left Lewes were of the same kind. Some are red, others black, and both superb animals of their kind. In this and the neighbouring country they appear to employ chiefly bullocks for draught, and even for ploughing. The ditches here afforded the Scirpus lacustris. On leaving the marsh, we passed through the little village of Wartling, and turning to the left, made for Herstmonceux park. This park, which is in itself nothing extraordinary is, however, rather pretty for such a spot. It lies on several little heathy sandhills. But the remarkable feature in it is the old castle of Herstmonceux, which is in excellent preservation. We could perceive by its lying in a bottom instead of being situated upon an eminence, as well as by its being built of brick instead of stone, and by the stile of its architecture, that, although imitated from the Gothic, it is of a date greatly posterior to the feudal times. We were accordingly told by the person who shews it, that it was built in the reign of Henry VI, although there is a wall standing in it of a much earlier date. The outer walls are almost perfect, and some of the inner ones: even some of the timbers still subsist, in good condition. In fact, it was inhabited till about sixty years ago, when it was dilapidated in order to build the present Herstmonceux house. It derived its odd name, according to the man who shews it, from the names of its founder, Mr. Herst, and a subsequent possessor named Monceux.14 Altogether it is the best worth seeing of any castle we have inspected in this tour. On leaving Herstmonceux, we approached the sand hills which we had seen from Plumpton downs and taken for the St. Leonard’s forest range, but which in fact commence about Uckfield and end at Hastings, as we could now plainly perceive. The approaches to the main range of sand hills, though merely common place pretty country, with gentle sandy slopes and corn fields, appeared delightful to us after the dull flats which we had just crossed. We passed through the village of Boreham, on the road from Lewes to Battel15 and Hastings, which road we followed for some time, and found the Linum angustifolium under a hedge by its side. We however soon left this road, and turning off to the left, crossed a bottom, ascended a pretty high sandy ridge, and descending into the valley beyond, came to Ashburnham park. This park, for the beauty of its trees and the pretty manner in which the ground is laid out, is really one of the best which I have seen, but it appeared still finer to us, who came from among water meadows and ditches. The house, of which the architecture is chaste though not without ornament, had the merit of appearing solid and at the same time light. It belongs to the Earl of Ashburnham, who is I believe descended from Ashburnham the attendant of Charles I,16 and they shew various relics of that monarch at the place, but we could not see it, as part of the family was there. Having ascended from the bottom in which we were, by a beautiful dell among trees, forming part of the park, we found ourselves on the top of the main ridge of these sand hills, and soon came in sight of Battel, a pretty though not large town, on the same ridge. Having dined at the George Inn, finding that there was nothing to be seen at Battel (for the Abbey is shewn only on Mondays) we walked to Hastings. It was nearly dark when we set out but we had light enough to see the exterior of the Abbey, the front of which though not symmetrical appeared to us a very fine specimen of that branch of the Gothic architecture. The part which is inhabited is comparatively modern, but the uninhabited part has been prevented from falling into ruins by judicious repairs.

26th

Hastings is, as all know, a very old town and the greater part of it has the appearance of one, the streets being paved, but narrow, and the houses high. The part which lies immediately on the beach is the only part which has the appearance of a watering place, and this has not the tawdry appearance of watering places in general: the houses are large and well built, and the place appears to have no greater pretensions than it is able to support. It is a great fishing place, and we saw abundance of fishing vessels in the harbour. Compared with most watering places, the country about Hastings is certainly fine, there being some tolerably pretty sand slopes, though not equal to those about Battel, and some very bold sand stone cliffs on both sides of the town. We went to the base of the first cliff west of the town, on which the ruins of the castle stand, and then ascended the first cliff to the east of which we explored both the summit and the base, as well as part of the base of the second cliff, and a little woody dell between them. As cliffs, they are not equal to the chalk cliffs about Beachy Head; but being of a different composition, viz. sandstone, intermixed with large lumps of a stone appearing to bear a great resemblance to clay slate, they were worth seeing even after those which were so much finer in themselves. The vegetation is, of course, of a character very different from that of the South Downs and so many rare plants are set down in the neighbourhood of Hastings, that we expected a rich harvest. We found the Sedum anglicum on sand rocks in the dell already spoken of, and the Crithmum maritimum (samphire) on the second cliff, together with a tall grass probably the Festuca rubra; but could find none of the plants peculiarly attributed to Hastings. I should however state that the cliffs are absolutely covered with Statice armeria and Linum angustifolium; but these we had found previously and they were therefore of less value to us. From Hastings (at the Swan Inn) we proceeded by one of the London coaches to Lamberhurst, on the border of Kent, through a very hilly and sandy country, rather pretty but containing nothing extraordinary and differing in nothing from any other sand hills except in the multitude of hop gardens which we met with as we approached Kent. From Lamberhurst we walked across, through the same sort of country to Tunbridge Wells, continually looking for Waterdown forest in a part of the country where it was laid down in our map of Sussex, but where it really is not and passing through some pretty woods in the domain of Bayham Abbey belonging to Lord Camden,17 which woods we took for Waterdown forest until we were informed of the contrary.

27th

We employed the greater part of this day in seeing the country and the various sights in the neighbourhod of Tunbridge Wells. This place, though nearly as large as Dorking, has no church, being in three different parishes and in two counties, Kent and Sussex. It is a straggling place scattered about on the two slopes and in the bottom of a broad sandy dell. One side (the north side) of the dell constitutes the common, on the top of which, as we are informed by the guide book, there are magnificent rocks, containing caverns which remind one of that of the robbers in Gil Blas.18 We walked to those rocks in the morning, and found that there were some tolerably large blocks of sandstone lying about on the top of the hill, out of the bottom of some of which a little sand had been dug. After amusing ourselves for some time with this piece of humbug, we returned to breakfast at the Royal Kentish Hotel and after breakfast proceeded to the westward up the valley in which Tunbridge Wells is situated. The country about Tunbridge Wells is composed of sandy ridges and dells, tolerably well wooded, and on the whole decidedly pretty, though by no means striking to any one who has seen the beautiful parts of Surrey. This valley we found to be among the prettiest parts of it. We followed the valley for about a mile, till we arrived at what are called the High Rocks, that is to say a long ledge of perpendicular sand stone rocks intersected by natural fissures, and from forty to seventy feet high. These rocks, being ornamented and in some measure shrouded by trees, have very much the appearance of real mountain scenery, and appeared to us worthy of the praise which they copiously received in the guide book.19 This spot belongs to the Earl of Abergavenny, and has been somewhat altered from its native wildness by artificial ornaments, but sparingly, and in good taste. On the damp and shady parts of the rocks we found the celebrated Tunbridge fern or Hymenophyllum tunbridgense; and in the cornfields above them as well as in some other places included in this day’s walk we found a beautiful purple variety of the Viola tricolor, or heart’s ease, which Forster in his Flora Tunbridgensis conjectures to be a peculiar species.20 After inspecting these rocks in some detail, we looked at some other rocks in the same valley—for large blocks of sandstone lie about, sometimes scattered and sometimes in ledges, in various places about Tunbridge Wells, and we then reascended the north side of the valley to Rusthall common, on the top of the hill, where a number of curiously shaped blocks lie about, one of them called the Toad Rock, because in shape it somewhat resembles a toad sitting on a stone. We now kept on the top of the hill for some distance towards the west, in the direction of East Grinstead, but left that road at Langton Green, whence we redescended into the valley, here spread out into a plain, crossed a large open warren belonging to Lord Abergavenny in the low and boggy parts of which we found the Abama ossifraga (Narthecium ossifragum of Smith)21 in great abundance, and entered into Waterdown forest. This forest belongs to Lord Abergavenny, and is beautifully laid out almost in the stile of a pleasure ground. It is intersected in all directions by broad grassy drives, one of them extending for nearly a mile along the base of a ledge of rocks, almost as pretty though not so high as the High Rocks already described. A large portion of this forest consists entirely of birch. We wandered through almost every part of it, (for it is much reduced in extent since it was a royal chase), enjoying the beauty of the spot and searching for some of the numerous rare plants said by Forster in his Flora Tunbridgensis to grow there: but though we purchased the book on purpose to assist us we met with no success in our search for the plants. On leaving the forest by the eastern side, we experienced another disappointment by finding that Eridge Castle and Park, belonging to the same nobleman, and mentioned in the Guide Book as a great shewplace, was not to be shewn.22 We were now on the direct road from Lewes to Tunbridge Wells, and by this road we returned to the latter place, where we took a cold bath in the chalybeate water of the place. The baths are situated close to the Parade, which is well furnished with shops, and, for a watering place, tolerably pretty and cheerful. The rest of the town, village, or hamlet (call it which you will) is dull and watering-place-like enough. After dinner we walked six miles across the country to Tunbridge23 an ugly old town consisting of one street, about a mile in length, situated on the Medway and contriving two bridges over as many branches of that river (two of them considerable streams) from which multitude of bridges it derives it name Town of bridges, or Tunbridge. We stopped at the Crown Inn.

28th

We commenced the operations of this day by seeing the Castle, one of the best preserved and most curious specimens of that sort of building which we had seen in our tour. Of the outer enceinte a very small portion is preserved, but the high part, or citadel, remains almost entire and consists of a high quadrangular tower, with circular turrets at the four corners, nearly equalling in diameter the breadth of the building. Figure 1 exhibits the base of the building, Figure 2 its appearance when seen on its broad side, Figure 3 when seen on the narrow.

Figure 1

Figure 2

Figure 3

It is now joined to a more modern, and inhabited mansion, but continues to be exhibited to those who visit the place. On leaving Tunbridge, we pursued the Maidstone road, through an uninteresting country enough, as far as Hadlow, where we turned off to the left, crossed several fields, and a park of no particular beauty, and then came to the range of sand hills which begins at Reigate and runs parallel to the chalk hills of Surrey and Kent. From these beautifully wooded hills we discovered the chalky range of which Box hill and the Ranmer hills form a part: It now lay directly before us and we could perceive that it does not stop at Wrotham but merely opens into a gap similar to that at Dorking and lets through the Medway just as the other lets through the Mole. Our distance from Rochester through this gap would appear not to have been great. After allowing the Medway to pass through it, the range of chalk hills rises again, but changes its direction: instead of running from west to east, as it does from Guildford to Wrotham, it turns into a direction considerably south of east, and we could perceive it slanting away to so great a distance, that on comparing the face of the country as we perceived it with the map of Kent, we had no doubt that it runs a little north of Ashford, leaves Romney marsh to the south, and joins the sea about Folkestone; and that the chalk cliffs from Folkestone to Dover, and even those north of Dover, are formed by these hills, as those of Seaford and Beachy Head are formed by the South Downs.—Having viewed this interesting range of hills for some time, we crossed the valley, and began ascending the chalk hills, taking in our way the ugly village of Wrotham. The view from the summit of the chalk hills is extensive, but far less diversified and interesting than that which may be perceived from the parts of this range nearest to Dorking, or even to Godstone and Reigate. We however proceeded by field paths along the summit of the hill, and did not redescend into the valley until we came nearly opposite to Sevenoaks, which, as we could not see it from the hill, we had some difficulty in finding. It lies a little way up the range of sand hills which still continues to run parallel, or nearly parallel, with the great chalky range: and the town is situated near the head of the Darent, and almost opposite to another gap in the range of chalk hills, through which that river flows to empty itself into the Thames. In the little that we could perceive of the declivity of the chalk hills towards the north, it appeared gradual, but not spreading out into Downs as between Dorking and Reigate, or as the range of the South Downs does between Shoreham and Newhaven. The width of the ridge, at this point, seemed about equal to what it is near Oxted. In beauty of appearance, whether at the summit, or as seen from the plain, it was somewhat inferior to the part above Godstone, still more to that above Dorking. We stopped at the Rose and Crown, Sevenoaks, and while dinner was preparing, we inspected Knole Castle and Park, the old residence of the Dorset family.24 The park is one of the very best which I have seen, the beauty of the trees, and the disposition of the ground, being taken together: though I have perhaps seen others which excel it in either of those qualities considered separately. The castle seems of an age posterior to that in which castles were built for defence; I should say somewhat older than Herstmonceux. The internal arrangement and the furniture, of a great part of it, is carefully kept in the same state as formerly: two miles of rooms, which were fitted up for James I and II respectively when on certain occasions they honoured Knole Castle with their presence are still retained precisely in the same state in which they were left by those monarchs.25 The old bedroom-furniture is curious because it is old, and this is one of the principal curiosities of the place. Another is a large collection of pottery etc. from Herculaneum, in a state of preservation, both as to the vessels themselves and the designs upon them, which is truly surprising. There is also a collection of very ancient china. But the most interesting, to many spectators, of all the sights to be seen at this place, is the extensive and fine collection of pictures, both by the ancients and modern masters. I am so indifferent a judge of painting, that I will not venture to say any thing of their merits, though I was greatly struck with several pictures. A rarer and to me a more interesting characteristic of this collection was, its containing portraits of almost all persons who have distinguished themselves in English history, whether as public or literary characters, whether as statesmen, poets, orators or philosophers.—In the evening, we walked along the valley to Westerham through the large villages of Riverhead, Sundridge and Brasted, and here, at the King’s Arms, we remained for the night.

29th

This day we concluded our tour by walking from Westerham to Dorking, through Godstone (where we breakfasted), Bletchingly, Nutfield and Reigate. Our course lay between the chalky and the sandy ranges during the whole of our course, and we were now upon ground which was familiar to me. We remained at Dorking the rest of the day.

30th

My two friends returned to town this morning and I myself in the afternoon. I subjoin an account of the expenses of our tour for the information of myself and others on future occasions:

[1 ]Commonly Chobham.

[2 ]This sentence is interlined.

[3 ]Charles II (1630-85) reigned 1660-85; Elizabeth I (1538-1603) reigned 1558-1603.

[4 ]George O’Brien Wyndham (1751-1837), 3rd Earl of Egremont, a patron of the arts, had estates in Cumberland as well as Sussex.

[5 ]The preventive service, or preventive water guard, was a coastguard service established in 1815 to prevent smuggling. Men and boats under the command of half-pay naval lieutenants were stationed on the coast of Sussex and Kent.

[6 ]The Fitzalan title, which began with Richard Fitzalan (1267-1302), 1st Earl, passed by marriage to the Howard family with Philip Howard (1557-95), 13th Earl, and then was annexed in 1660 to the Dukedom of Norfolk (held by the Howard family). As leading Roman Catholics, the Howards were enemies of the Commonwealth forces under Oliver Cromwell (1599-1658). The current head of the house was Bernard Edward Howard, 12th Duke.

[7 ]Probably John Abel Smith (1801-71), a banker and magistrate for Sussex and Middlesex, who later was M.P. for Midhurst (1830) and Chichester (1831-59).

[8 ]Elsewhere and correctly Adur.

[* ]N.B. This hill and copse are visible from Box hill, and form an excellent landmark. [Mill’s note at the foot of the page.]

[9 ]The 64 ft. viewing tower, built in 1766 by Richard Hull (ca. 1689-1772) on the highest point (965 ft.) in the county, had been rebuilt after wanton damage and raised some twenty feet in height; the top was not accessible, however, at this time.

[10 ]Mill uses both this and the more common spelling, Surrey.

[11 ]The Lordship of Lewes and its Castle date from the eleventh century, Lewes being the barony seat of the Earls of Surrey until the end of the fourteenth century. Early in the fifteenth century the Lordship was divided in three, held at the time of Mill’s visit by the Earl of Abergavenny (currently Henry Neville [1755-1843], 2nd Earl), the Duke of Norfolk (currently Bernard Edward Howard), and the Duke of Dorset (currently Charles Sackville Germain [1767-1843], 5th Duke). The site and ruins, leased in 1774 for 99 years, were at this time held by Thomas Read Kemp (ca. 1781-1844), M.P. for Lewes, 1811-16 and again 1826-37, who built Kemp Town, a suburb of Brighton.

[12 ]Kemp and John Shelley (1771-1852), who was a sitting member, were elected in 1826, defeating Alexander Donovan (1775/6-1846).

[13 ]These masonry towers, containing vaulted rooms and capped with a gun platform, were built during the Napoleonic wars at short intervals along the coast, especially in the South and East, as a defensive measure. The name comes from a tower on Cape Mortella in Corsica, which surprisingly resisted British assault in 1794.

[14 ]The guide misled the visitors: the name Herstmonceux (derived from Old English hyrst, a wooded hill, plus Monceux, the name of the lords of the manor from the twelfth century) existed before the building of the castle during the reign, 1422-61, of Henry VI (1421-71).

[15 ]Commonly Battle.

[16 ]The owner was George Ashburnham (1760-1830), 3rd Earl, the descendant of John Ashburnham (1603-71), M.P. for Hastings, made Groom of the Bedchamber in 1628 by Charles I, to whom he reported Parliament’s proceedings.

[17 ]John Jeffreys Pratt (1759-1840), 2nd Earl and 1st Marquis of Camden.

[18 ]Mill may have been using The Directory; or, The Ancient and Present State of Tunbridge Wells (Tunbridge Wells: Sprange, 1816), which mentions several details he comments on, including the rocks (p. 11), but does not make the comparison with the caverns of the robbers in Alain René Lesage (1668-1747), L’histoire de Gil Blas de Santillane, 4 vols. (Paris: Ribou, 1715-35), Vol. I, pp. 27-8 (Bk. I, Chap. iv).

[19 ]In The Directory, pp. 10-12.

[20 ]Thomas Furly Forster, Flora Tonbrigensis; or, A Catalogue of Plants Growing Wild in the Neighbourhood of Tonbridge Wells (London: Arch; Tunbridge Wells: Sprange, 1816), p. 30n.

[21 ]James Edward Smith, Flora Britannica, 3 vols. (London: White, 1800-04), Vol. I, p. 368.

[22 ]Mentioned in The Directory, pp. iv-v, though the term “showplace” is not used.

[23 ]Commonly Tonbridge.

[24 ]Thomas Sackville (1536-1608), 1st Earl of Dorset, was the first owner of Knole Castle; on the death of George John Frederick Sackville (1794-1815), 4th Duke of Dorset, it passed for life to his widow, Arabella Diana Cope, and then on her death to their daughter Mary, who was the current owner.

[25 ]The traditional account concerning James I (1566-1625), who reigned 1603-25, for which there is no firm evidence, was evidently maintained by a guide, who may have independently and improbably added James II (1633-1701), who reigned 1685-88, to the tale.