Old Times at Otterbourne

1784, when we find “paid for musick for the use of the Church, Ј1. 1s.  To George Neal for whitewashing Church, Ј1. 1s., George Neale, two days’ work, 5s. 3d., for work in the gallery, 19s. 4d., bill for tiles, 3s. 4d.”

The only connection Otterbourne has with any historical person is not a pleasant one.  The family of Smythe, Roman Catholics, long held Brambridge, and they endowed a little Roman Catholic Chapel at Highbridge.  At one time, a number of their tenants and servants were of the same communion, and there is a note in the parish register by the curate to say that there were several families at Allbrook and Highbridge whose children he had not christened, though he believed they had been baptized by the Roman Catholic priest.  One of the daughters of the Smythe family was the beautiful Mrs. Fitz-Herbert, whom the Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV, was well known to have privately married.  He never openly avowed this, because by the law made in the time of William III, a marriage with a Roman Catholic disqualifies for the succession to the crown; besides which, under George III, members of the royal family had been prohibited from marrying without the King’s consent, and such marriages were declared null and void.  The story is mentioned here because an idea has gone abroad that the wedding took place in the chapel at Highbridge, but this is quite untrue.  The ceremony was performed at Brighton, and it is curious that the story of it having happened here only began to get afloat after the death of Mr. Newton, the last of the old servants who had known Mrs. Fitz-Herbert.  Walter Smythe, her brother, was one of the dйtenus whom Napoleon I kept prisoners, though only English travellers, on the rupture of the Peace of Amiens.  His brother, Charles, while taking care of the estate, had all the lime trees in the avenue pollarded, and sold the tops to make stocks for muskets.

p. 17In those days there was only a foot bridge across the Itchen at Brambridge.  Carts and carriages had to ford the river, not straight across, but making a slight curve downwards; this led to awkward accidents.  There was a gentleman dining with Mr. Walter Smythe, who was pressed to sleep at Brambridge, but declined, saying that he liked to have all his little comforts about him.  When daylight came, the poor man was found seated on the top of his chaise, the water flowing through the windows below; for the post boy had taken a wrong turn, and, being afraid to move, had been forced to remain in the river till the morning.  A far worse disaster befel the Newton family on their way to a funeral.  It is described by one of the bearers: “When the cart turned over, the corpse was on the foot bridge.  It was a very wet day, and the wind was blowing furiously at the time.  It had a great effect on the cart, as it was a narrow cart with a tilt on, and there was a long wood sill at the side of the river.  That dropping of the sill caused the accident.  I think there were five females in the cart and the driver.  The water was as much as 4ft. deep and running very sharp, so myself and others went into the water to fetch them out, and when we got to the cart they were all on the top of the other, with their heads just out of the water.  They could not go on to church with the corpse, and we had a very hard job to save the horse from being drowned, as his head was but just out of the water.”

All through the time of the long war with France there was here, as well as everywhere else around the coast, fear of a landing of the French.  The flat-bottomed boats to bring the French over were actually ready at Boulogne, and the troops mustered to come across in them.  On our side, volunteers were in training in case of need, and preparations were made for sending off the women and children inland on the first news of the enemy landing.  Not very many years ago there were still to be seen in a barn at Hursley the planks prepared to fit as seats into the waggons that were to carry them away.  And a family living here are said to have kept everything packed up, even the fireirons, and to have stirred up the fire with a stick during a p. 18whole winter.  However, by God’s blessing and our fleets and armies, the danger was kept from our doors.

With the activity that followed upon the peace came a great deal of road-making.  The present high road between Winchester and Southampton was then made, and the way cut through the hills—Otterbourne Hill and Compton Hill on either side.  This led to the main part of the inhabitants settling in the village street, instead of round the old Church as before.  Another great road was made at the same time—that which crosses Golden Common and leads ultimately to Portsmouth.  It used to be called Cobbett’s Road, because William Cobbett, a clever, self-taught man, had much to do with laying it out.  Cobbett had a good many theories which he tried to put into practice, some sensible, others mistaken.  The principal traces we see of him now are in the trees that he planted, chiefly introduced from America.  He thought the robinia, or false acacia, would make good hedges, because of its long thorns and power of throwing up suckers, and many people planted them, but they proved too brittle to be of much use, though some are still growing.  He was a friend of Mr. Harley, who then owned Otterbourne House, and planted many curious trees there, of which two long remained—a hickory nut and a large tree in the drive.  There was also an oak with enormous leaves, but it was planted so near the house that it had to be moved, and died in consequence.

These roads were for the coaches.  Young folks, who never saw anything nearer approaching to a stage coach than the drags some gentlemen keep, can hardly fancy what these stage coaches were—tall vehicles, holding four inside passengers and at least twelve outside and quantities of luggage.  They were drawn by four of the strongest and quickest horses that could be procured, and these were changed about every five or six miles, so as to keep up full speed.  The coachman, generally a big, burly man, with a face reddened by exposure to the weather, and often by a glass of ale at every stage, sat on the box in a drab coat, with many capes one over the other.  The seat next to him was the favourite one with the passengers, and gentlemen would sometimes p. 19bribe coachmen to let them drive; nay, some gentlemen actually took to the trade themselves.  There was also a guard, who in mail coaches took care of the post bags, and dropped them at the places where they were intended for.  In the days when highwaymen infested the roads the guard had carried pistols, and still the guard of the mail wore a red coat, and blew a horn on entering any place to warn the people to bring out their post bags and exchange them for others.

One or two coaches kept their horses at the White Horse, so as to be fresh for going up the hill, others at the Cricketers, while others changed at Compton and the New Hut.  Some of the stables still remain, converted into cottages.  The horses were fine animals, beautifully kept; but the habit of hanging about public-houses to attend to them was not good for the ostlers and people concerned.  About fifteen coaches came through this place in the morning, and their fellows in the evening, each proprietor keeping two coaches, starting from the two opposite ends at the same time.  There was the Mail, the Telegraph, the Independent, the Red Rover, the Hirondelle, all London coaches, besides the Oxford coach and some that only ran between Winchester and Southampton.  The driver and owner of one, Mason’s coach, was only a few years ago living here.  When people intended to go on a journey, they booked their places a day or two beforehand, but for short journeys or going into Winchester they would watch for a vacant space in a coach as it passed by.

It is odd to look back at an old article in a quarterly review describing coach travelling as something so swift and complete that it could not be surpassed in its perfection.  Yet accidents with the spirited horses and rapid driving were not uncommon, and a fall from an overloaded coach was a dangerous thing.

When the mail went by coach the sending of letters and parcels could not but be expensive.  Heavy goods travelled by waggon, barge, or ship, parcels went by carriers or by coaches, and nothing could be posted but what was quite light.  So postage was very expensive, and it is strange to look back on the regulations connected with it.  Our p. 20readers under forty years old will hardly believe the rates that were paid for postage, varying according to distance.  There was a company in London that carried letters from one part of that town to another for twopence apiece, and this was the cheapest post in England.  A letter from London to Otterbourne cost eightpence, and one from Winchester either threepence or fourpence, one from Devonshire elevenpence, and this was paid not by the sender, but by the receiver.  It was reckoned impolite to prepay a letter.  Moreover, the letter had to be on a single sheet.  The sheet might be of any size that could be had, but it must be only one.  A small sheet enclosed within another, or the lightest thing, such as a lock of hair or a feather, made it a double letter, for which double postage had to be given.  The usual custom was to write on quarto sheets twice the size of what is used now, and, after filling three sides, to fold the fourth, leaving a space for the direction and the seal, and then to write on the flaps and in the space over “My dear ---,” sometimes crossing the writing till the whole letter was chequer work.  For if