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Published: October 15th 2007
Chatting with the superintendent at the Brighton Coach Station, I was assured of a place on the morning coach along to Southampton - however my friend noticed that my hard won buss pass was invalid, due to the London issuer having written an expiry date which preceeded the start date. He recommended I ask the kind folk at the Southampton National Express Office to sort it out. And just when I thought I was well on my holiday!
The bus came in, and we had a very pretty, sunny drive along the coast, via the small sea-side town of Worthing, past lofty Arundel Castle, and through the tiny University town of Chichester, where the beautiful old stone buildings clash with the bricks of the modern and industrial areas in an unfortunate way. Continuing to Plymouth, and crossing its network of waterways, we stopped for a morning break in the harbour area, and I took the opportunity to walk around the docks a little.
On arrival in Southampton, the very capable team took charge of fixing the invalid pass, while I found a fairly pleasant little B&B up on the hill behind the city centre, as there are no hostels
Winchester Cathedral
Very very cold... but very very beautiful.in the town. Giving me a renewed faith in National Express, there was a new (and much nicer and more official looking) pass awaiting me back at the station when I arrived to catch the coach to Winchester.
At one time,
Winchester was a very important city in Britain, on a par with London. It was the capital of Alfred the Great’s kingdom of Wessex, and the Norman invader Edward the Conqueror held a coronation here as well as in London. Now merely a small town within easy reach of Southampton, it retains its early character, and is a tourist draw for its cobbled streets, wonderful Cathedral, and the remains of a once great castle.
I enjoyed Winchester very much, because of its incredible history, plainly expressed everywhere I looked. As with many early British towns, the stronghold and the walls were built on top of the Roman ruins from centuries earlier. The buildings within them come from different periods, but are generally good examples of mediaeval stonework, with an abundance of gorgeous gargoyles and ornate embellishments.
Immediately after I arrived in front of the magnificent gothic-style Guildhall, (a Victorian addition to the mix) it began to
rain. The gutters and drains on the steep High Street couldn’t cope with the downpour, and the water was sheeting over the cobbles as I splashed up the hill past the ubiquitous chain stores towards the Westgate. After many years as a debtor’s prison, it now houses a museum, but with only an afternoon to soak up as much as I could, I had not time. (Oh, the things I am missing on this trip!) Skirting the wall, I climbed a flight of stairs to arrive at the thirteenth century Great Hall, the only remnant of the once huge castle. Originally the centre of a bustling court and government, the Hall has been strengthened, restored and added to by successive generations, but it’s not hard to imagine it as it was in its heyday, lit with flickering fires and filled with throngs of mediaeval nobles in attendance on the King, eating, drinking, and dancing.
High up on the wall is an enormous wooden table, which has been present in the Hall for over seven hundred years. It claims to be
the Round Table. Made of oak, the names of Arthur's knights are painted around the edge, and Arthur is
represented at the top. Unfortunately, it is a little to young to have been used by the legendary King, even if he existed: modern science has dated it to 1250, although it was probably painted some time rather later - perhaps during the monarchy of Henry VIII, since many have remarked upon the similarity between portraits of Henry and the face of Arthur depicted on the table!
Outside, Queen Eleanor’s garden is a careful recreation of a mediaeval garden, using the plants and styles of the period, and named after two queens of the time. Opened by the Queen Mother, it’s a calm, peaceful spot, with a fountain and gravel paths, small patches of lawn and screened seating areas.
It was late afternoon by now, and the day being crisp and clear, I started getting chilly. I walked as briskly as I could down the hill towards the Cathedral, wishing for more layers. I came in to the Close through the charming Kingsgate, another of the mediaeval entrances to the city, and now embellished with the insignia of Elizabeth II. I admired the buildings in the close and the Cathedral frontage, with its marvellous frieze - but I
The Spinnaker Tower
A fairly recently built veiwing tower on Portsmouth's harbour front. (I didn't have time to climb it, as we were only there for half an hour.) did not want to miss seeing inside, and hurried through.
The nave is glorious, forested with soaring stone pillars and lined with bright stained glass. I read later that at 556 feet, it’s Europe’s longest mediaeval church. I found it awe inspiring enough even before I knew that, and craned my neck to see the lace-like vaulting. I located the grave of Jane Austen, who died in Winchester, (after living there only six weeks) and was buried in the Cathedral. Above her grave marker there is a brass plaque in the wall, and lest that not be enough, a stained glass window.
The Cathedral also professes to hold the bones of Kind Canute, or Knut, the famous Danish King, (everyone was invading England back then!) and the remains of King Alfred’s parents - but it was desecrated during the Reformation, and the bones around the Altar were all mixed together. They are now in six mortuary chests high up on the walls of the presbytery, but there’s no knowing who is who.
Once on the point of collapse, a deep sea diver, incredibly, saved the Cathedral. With foundations in marshy ground, the original timbers had rotted, and
HMS Warrior, 1860
One of the historic ships anchored in Portsmouth docks. Like the others, it has a museum of sailing life on board. in the early nineteenth century William Walker spent five years replacing them with concrete. Apparently even now the crypt is frequently flooded, but I didn’t have the chance to find out, as late in the day as it was.
I wasn’t ready to leave, though, so I stayed in the Cathedral for Evensong. Though the icy cold air meant I was distracted by thoughts of fluffy woollen jerseys and roaring fires, I still thrilled to the voices of the choir soaring amongst the ancient wooden and stone carvings, and tried to pay heed to the readings as I gazed around the quire.
Leaving after the service, I found the west front of the Cathedral gloriously lit up by the setting sun, and nearly froze my fingers off trying to capture a small memento of the beautiful effect of the light on the pale stones, with my faithful but increasingly frustrating camera.
Finishing up my little tour, I walked down to the riverside in the gathering darkness, to see what I could of the Bishops’ Palace, Wolvesey Castle. Surrounded by an enormous stone wall, it was just possible to catch a glimpse through the gate of the place
Southampton City Centre
Sculptures outside the BBC, looking across the huge roundabout to the Civic Centre and its clock tower. where Mary Tudor and Phillip of Spain celebrated their wedding feast.
The next morning I was back at the bus station for a trip to
Salisbury. Again, it’s not a very long trip from Southampton, and from some way off I could see the spire of the Cathedral rising from the little city and the farms and trees that surround it. The scene was set off by the glorious sunny day, and it’s no wonder that such an idyllic setting has inspired so many artists.
The town itself is not very well sign-posted for people who do not know their way around. Where actually
is a sign, it’s either completely ambiguous or twisted to face in the wrong direction. I got lost on the way to the Tourist Information Centre, but eventually sorted myself out, and did better by relying on my sense of direction, rather than signs, for the rest of the day.
When I heard the exorbitant price of tours, I bought myself an Explorer bus ticket instead, and navigated out to
Old Sarum. Anyone who knows their Edward Rutherford will have a hankering to see this place, as it is the setting for the
The Round Table
High on the wall in the Great Hall, Winchester. best of his historical novels. Totally ruined now, a great castle and cathedral once stood on this hill, a few miles from the more modern Salisbury.
The ruins are so camouflaged that I was dismayed when the bus driver told me it was my stop - I could see only a hilly area of pasture and scrubland, as the driver’s entrance and carpark is further up the road. Only when I followed a bridle path up the hill a way did I perceive the hill was engineered, its natural defences augmented by great trenches and banks.
This outcrop with plains all around has been defended at least as far back as the Iron Age, and the Romans and Saxons also had forts here. The Norman invaders made it a Cathedral city, and a large religious community moved to the area.
The Outer Bailey, where the servants and all the services for the castle were housed - including the Cathedral - is accessible to anyone who would like to wander round it. It’s completely surrounded by huge earth ramparts, which would once have been stoutly fortified. The surface inside them is level and has been allowed to grass
Remembering Jane
In Winchester Cathedral. Jane Austen is buried just a few feet away. over, so that the only ruins visible are the remains of the Cathedral. Along with stumps of the original foundations, the outlines of the building’s three incarnations are clearly marked out in the grass. A clump of stone right on the outside edge, overlooking endless picturesque fields, is a remnant of the Bishops’ Palace.
English Heritage has charge of the site, and there is an admittance fee to the Inner Bailey, where the Castle Ruins are well signposted to explain the discoveries made in past excavations. To get in, you must cross a wooden bridge over the deep trench, just as the original occupants would have done. When defending the castle, the townsfolk and valuables would be brought within the walls and the planks of the bridge withdrawn after them, so the gap was impassable to an enemy.
I spent a windy hour walking amongst the whitish cobble-like stones that make up the walls. It’s a fascinating glimpse into castles of the time, and you could hardly wish for a more beautiful spot. But you can see why the Bishops preferred the comforts of the sunny valley below to the high hilltop, and with defence a less pressing
King Alfred
A statue of the Great King, guarding Winchester from the bottom of the High Street. need, in the early thirteenth century the church won the right to move their bishopric down into the valley. Though known to all and sundry as Salisbury, the official name of the resulting city is still New Sarum. The building of the new Cathedral started in 1220, and was finished rapidly, in only forty years. The highest spire in England was added century later.
With lots of sights on my wish list, I bussed back into the city and walked around the well kept Cathedral Close. It’s a famous one, with very pretty gardens and several museums and houses to visit - but I had eyes only for the Cathedral. The spire is certainly very beautiful, and the inside also very pleasingly arranged - but after the jumble of memorial tablets and tombstones in other churches, the interior seems austere almost to the point of grimness, lined with sombre pillars of grey Purbeck marble. But the soaring arches of the nave are beautiful to behold - and when you look at their lines more closely it seems a wonder that the Cathedral is still standing - the supports under the spire especially are visibly bowing under the enormous strain.
Little wonder then that Salisbury Cathedral is also undergoing restoration and much needed repairs.
I enjoyed the windows, the arches, and the memorials in record time, and paid a quick visit to the octagonal Chapter House as well. It holds one of the four surviving original copies of the Magna Carta, and is reached by the largest cloisters in England.
From the Normans I was to head back into prehistory, on one of the hourly buses to Stonehenge. I kept a watch out the window as we neared our destination, eager for the first sight of it, and I was delighted when we turned suddenly towards a hill I had been eyeing up - the near side was covered with golden corn, but it was so nicely rounded… At the very top, the stones themselves became visible.
I’ve heard enough disillusioned visitors exclaim “it’s so small!” so I was prepared, I told myself not to get too excited - but what I wasn’t prepared for was the complete lack of respect which has a allowed one of the most special places in Britain and a monument of international importance to be cut up by highways, with the
stones bunched right up against the carpark and visitor centre. I was very unimpressed by this treatment of the site, but slightly mollified by the displays of the redevelopment of the site - the roads are going to be tunnelled, and the visitor centre relocated, so that the entire hillside can be re-grassed. It would certainly be worth coming back again to see the monument in its intended setting - in fact, I would even go so far as to recommend people wait until then, so as to see the real Stonehenge.
I was hugely impressed by the stones when walking around them, and found the whole thing delightful mystifying and exciting. There was a bright sun, but the wind was horribly cold. If I hadn’t been half freezing to death I think I would have stayed longer, which says something, considering the off-putting way in which one is forced to view the stones.
I had just time back in Salisbury to take the famous walk across the water meadows, which I had been very keen on doing, because I had never heard the term before. Conjuring up all sorts of visions of sheep on little islands of
Outline of the Old Cathedral
And the ruins of the Bishop's Palace meadow, like so many frogs on lily pads, I was a little disappointed to find it just meant a meadow with running water around it. Perhaps it was a little marshy in places, but the sheep were able to wander where they wished without any danger of being marooned. Sigh. The late afternoon sunlight on the cathedral spire made the view quite perfect, though.
I almost fell asleep on the bus back to Southampton after two such full days, but back at the Linden I made myself stay awake long enough to figure out my plan for the next day - a visit to Bournemouth and the New Forest…
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Loving the Enchantment of Old England
So much to read! I'm afraid I'm a little behind in your blog, but will get through it over a few days! Sounds like you're having a magnificent time, though. I remember loving Stonehenge myself, but I remember thinking that the car park was too close too. They should make you pilgrimage to it, keep the magic alive!