The Penny Magazine  
of the
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge

Volume VII    Issue 380

   March 3, 1838

       Pages 86-88

A Week in the Isle of Portland in 1837  (ctd)

       (From a Correspondent)

The next half-mile brings us to a low range of coast, made up of bare hard rocks, totally destitute of mould or vegetation, and split into "chines," so deep and dark that I felt an involuntary shrinking as I stepped across them.  The beach is here diversified with breakers, over which the sea dashes unceasingly.  Another half-mile, and the scene undergoes a total change - the land becomes low, with a clothing of a warm red colour, intermingled with patches of green, caused by the thrift of our garden borders, with its radiated flowers of pink which grows here in hard hedgehog-like balls.  The road then runs over a low iron-bound coast, broken into every variety of angular forms, and at length terminates in a wide flat country, level with the beach, on which a portion of the royal quarries of Kingstown are situated.  In approaching them it is difficult to believe you are not about to visit the ruins of some ancient city.  Walls, pillars, and vast "cairns" of white stone are scattered over a surface of two or three square miles, with what Thomson, on another subject, has called a "regular confusion."  As these are the last quarries we shall visit, we embrace the opportunity of stating the following particulars, which will complete their history:- The whole amount of stone annually exported from the island is 25,000 tons, of which the royal quarries furnish about 6,000 tons.  The number of ships employed in the trade is about eighty; and of horses on the island 180.   The market-price of stone when it reaches London varies according to quality from 16s. To 24s. per ton of 16 cubic feet, and pays a duty of 6s. per ton.

The Portland ass - the donkey of the quarries, may be seen here to great advantage.  He is larger than the common English ass, is finely formed, and remarkable for the length and set of the pastern bone, by which an elasticity is given to the step, that renders his carriage graceful, and makes him very easy to ride.  He is usually saddled with two large semiglobular  baskets, between which, on an elevated seat, the rider is perched.  Those used for draught, work in couples one before the other, and drag three-quarters of a ton over rough roads with apparent ease.

Leaving the quarries the pedestrian will take another half-mile of the shore, which again becomes cliffy, and, gradually rising, attains a height of 340 feet.  He will here have an opportunity of estimating the force of the sea in rough weather, as many of the blocks on the beach, of from forty to sixty tons weight, are actually worn into immense pebbles by its violence.

Pennsylvania Castle, the residence of the late Governor Penn, may here claim attention.  It is the only place in Portland assuming the dignity of "a seat" and is also the only spot on which anything like a clump of trees is visible.  An old historian, speaking of this circumstance, says, "there be very few or utterly no trees, saving the elms about the church (now gone).  There would grow more if they were there planted; yet is the isle very bleak.  This sensible remark has been amply verified in the grounds before us.  The common sycamore will stand the severest sea breezes, and under the shelter it affords almost any forest tree may be grown.  By surrounding his land with a ring fence of them Mr. Penn succeeded in embosoming his house with a very agreeable variety of trees and shrubs, while all around him was a desert.  A winding path leads us past a ruined oratory, to Bow and Arrow Castle, a noble remnant of the days of Stephen.  It stands 300 feet above the level of the sea, on a perpendicular cliff split into rifts like the emptied veins of a lead mine, and so loosened by age, they seem every moment to threaten separation, and to bring the proud pile that crowns them to destruction.  Turning the angle of the castle wall a fine view is before us.  On the left there is a range of cliff scenery from 200 to 300 feet in height; an undercliff at its base, about 1000 feet in breadth, is covered with a profusion of dislocated rocks amidst which many little clearance quarries may be distinguished.  To the right the sea spreads into the distance, bounded in the horizon by the Isle of Wight, and more nearly by the white undulating cliffs of Dorsetshire.  A walk through the ruins of the undercliff claims our first attention.  A precipitous path from the castle leads to it.  On reaching it the traveller will be surprised to see that what had appeared at a distance to be a "waste howling wilderness," is in reality a paradise of flowers; indeed, the undercliff and the adjacent heights constitute together the garden of the island; The land plants of the undercliff are all of a miniature description, or what botanists would call "starved specimens;" - a littleness which results from the scarcity of earth, mould being formed almost exclusively by the decomposition of the rocks.  We may here remark, that the influence of plants in the production of colour is much overlooked, and as they affect peculiar localities, and by their predominance give them distinct and highly characteristic aspects, deserve the best study, both of the poet and the painter.  In no place is this more strikingly exhibited than the present.  Various species of stonecrop (Sedum) of a warm ruddy green fill the angles of the rocks; Spurges, particularly the purple (Euphorbia Peplis), the sea (E. Paralias), and the Portland spurge (E. Portlandica), grow plentifully, and exhibit bright warm yellows, changing in decay to vivid reds, which, together with the former, give great splendour to the foregrounds.  The golden samphire (Inula erithmoides), the scarlet seeds of the flags (Irideae), and the dark green leaves of the ivy, which is sparingly found, frequently combine with the pale red and pink flowers of various species of cranesbills (Geraniaceae), to mantle the grey rocks with robes of beauty.  Numerous species of lichens literally paint the rocks; the majority of them are of a blueish grey tinge, intermingled with occasional patches of red and yellow.  Warm clusters of ferns and harts-tongues add elegance of form to the splendour of the adjacent tints.

The margin of the sea is also beautiful.  The sunken rocks of which the beach is composed are covered with fuci of every degree of warm tints; and these contrast with the blue of the sea and masses of submerged chalk.  The forms and motions of these aquatic vegetables give a gay character to the shore - some short and paddle-formed; others long and riband shaped; hundreds of every variety of branched and fibrous forms, and some again fine and delicate in their structure; but all of them streaming in long undulating fields, gracefully waving with the advancing or retreating waters, while occasionally an uprooted conferva peeps above the surface, is driven towards the shore, dances awhile, and sinks at length, to be again and again thrown up to the surface.  The often unheeded music of common sounds also lends its aid to the beauties of the scene.  The sea, as it lashes over the pebbles in long sinuosities of foam, or swelling in broad sheets bursts on the larger rocks, utters an alternate series of brisk and hollow sounds.  Linnets in happy couples chitter in their short zig-zag flights from rook to rock, till the echoing cliffs send back their softened merriment; the prolonged monotone of the wheatear lends an elevated and tender emphasis to the melody of the waters, while the blackbird in Governor Penn's shrubbery seems with his mellow pipe to plead against the gossip of the sparrows and the loquacity of the daws in the cliff tops.

In returning to the castle it will be worth notice, how completely the character of the landscape is changed by viewing it with the face to the sun; in that position, the shadowed sides only of the rocks are seen and all appears harsh, angular, and dismal; but turn your back to the light, and the warm sunbeams light every thing into life and beauty.  The manner in which the various rocks decay will also deserve a passing observation.  Most of them, being compounded of different elements, decay in the order of their coherence.  In some, the soft matters vanish, leaving a curious aggregate of crystals, bones, or shells; others shrink into singular honey-combed forms, or resolve in straight lines, circles, or shapeless masses, which leave the block tunnelled with large holes.  Many decay in forms so strange, that they would be difficult to describe.  We noticed one that looked like an enormous cluster of worm-casts.

The walk on the cliffs from Bow and Arrow Castle is of a mountainous but softened character, and terminates in a lofty conical mound, called the Vern Hill, composed of clayey soil, and carpeted with the most delightful verdure.  This, as we have before mentioned is the Common of the island, and gives food to a considerable number of cows; and here it is, therefore, the greatest quantity of the fuel of the cottagers is collected.  The dung is gathered in baskets, and carried to a sunny spot, where it is laid in rows within square borders of stones to dry, in which state it becomes a hard, compact mass.  Many compartments may be observed with 500 or more of these cakes, with a ruddy urchin, proud of the morning's labour, turning them over to keep them from burning.

The road to this spot abounding with land springs is consequently thickly clothed with vegetation, and is the place where the botany of the island may be studied to the greatest advantage.  The following groups struck me as botanical pictures of great rarity and beauty.  The white rose of Portland (Rosa spinosissima), the Burnet or Pimpernel rose of the mainland, a plant of exquisite beauty, grows plentifully amid the scattered rock stones, surrounded by ruddy sorrels (Rumex acetosella et acetosa); Yellow Vetches (Vicia lutea, V. laevigata, and V. Bythynica); Eye Bright (Euphrasia officinalis); the whole shaded by the Tree Mallow (Lavatera arborea).  In the little spring-courses beneath them various Mints Rock and Water Speedwells (Veronica), Forget-me-not (Myosotis palustris) of extraordinary size, Yellow Rattle (Rhinanthus Cristi-galli), Glasswort (Salsosa Fruticosa), and the common Asparagus (Asparagus officinalis).  In the corners of the fields clusters of the Evergreen Alkanet (Anchusa sempervirens), and Borage (Borage officinalis) grow in unparalleled luxuriance, and look exceedingly beautiful when flanked by the tall and pillar-like forms of the great English melancholy Thistle (Carduus Belemnoides).  On the open grass, and particularly on the Vern Hill, the late-flowering Orchis (Orchis pyramidalis) is plentifully sprinkled.

At the foot of the Vern Hill, near the Chesil Bank, Portland Castle is situated.  This is a fort of considerable strength, and, in connection with Sandesfoot, or Weymouth Castle, on the opposite shore, was once a very efficient protection to the island, and the bottom of the bay of Weymouth.  It was built by Henry VIII, whose fame, and that of his family and ministers, is thus expressed in an inscription on the wainscot of the guardroom:  "God save Kinge Henri, the VIII. of that name, and Prins Edwarde, begottin of Queene Jane; my ladi Mari, that goodli virgin, and the ladi Elisabeth so towardli; with the kinges honorable counselers."

 

From the top of the Vern Hill, during the spring and early summer months, a phenomenon of great and rare splendour may be observed.  At those times, although the sun exerts considerable power, the air is still comparatively cold; this is frequently the case in so great a degree on the coast lands of England, that immense volumes of foggy vapour are raised from the warm surface of the earth, and immediately condensed into bright fleecy clouds.  These leave the mainland, and stretching across the sea, cover the whole of the lower parts of Portland, the higher parts remaining meanwhile perfectly clear.  On such occasions I made it my business to leave the 'cloud-capt' valleys, and ascend as high as mother earth would permit.  On the first ascent I saw the whole circuit of the island swaddled in what appeared to be an immense belt of rolling clouds, over which the sun was shining brilliantly.  The sea was gone - the cliffs were immersed - and nothing was visible but the flat top of the island, which looked like an Alpine garden floating in the clouds.  It was the most splendid sight I had ever witnessed.  I saw this spectacle repeatedly during my stay in the island, and always found something new to admire.  Sometimes the clouds would suddenly disperse, and then the coasts of England, the sea, and the base of the island, would one after another appear, and would be again immersed in clouds.  At other times, the silvery veil would slowly leave the island, and sailing gently over the ocean, conceal first the ships, then St. Adhelm's Head on the coast of Dorsetshire; next the Isle of Wight; and then withdrawing, would reveal those objects in all their freshness and beauty.  Occasionally, also, the cloudy canopy would not be equally dense, or partial rents would occur in it; and then, perhaps, a ship, a house, or a cow would be observed, and look as if floating in mid air.  The sea aids this remarkable spectacle, for although it is shut from view, its noise is heard, and lends a feeling of mystery to the scene.

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