Chichester Harbour ends just west of the town and close to the Portsmouth high road at New Fishbourne, a pleasant little place with a restored Early English church. This may be said to be the north-western limit of the Selsey Peninsula, one of the most primitive corners of southern England. The few visitors who make use of the light railway to Selsey have little or no knowledge of the lonely hamlets scattered over the wind-swept flats, in which many old customs linger and where the Saxon dialect may be heard in all its purity.

Selsey “Seals’ Island" was the scene of the first conversions to Christianity in Sussex and, for this reason, a semi-sacred land to the early mediaeval church in the south.

St. Wilfrid’s first visit was unpremeditated; he was shipwrecked while returning from a visit to France, where his consecration had taken place in A.D. 665. His reception was so hostile that after getting safely away he decided to return at some future date and convert the Barbarians to more gentle ways. Not for fifteen years did his opportunity come. Then, despoiled of his northern bishopric, for Wilfrid was a turbulent Churchman, he came prepared, we must suppose, for the reception usually meted out to the saints in those days. The heathen Saxons, however, were now in a different mood, for “no rain had fallen in that province for three years before his arrival, wherefore a dreadful famine ensued which cruelly destroyed the people.... It is reported that very often, forty or fifty men, being spent with want, would go together to some precipice, or to the sea-shore, and there hand in hand perish by the fall, or be swallowed-up by the waves.” (Ven. Bede.)

The efforts of the missionary saint met with success. The unprecedented sufferings of the people had been ignored by their tribal deities and the offer of a new faith was eagerly accepted. The King had been converted, possibly in secret, before this. The baptism of the leading chieftain was followed by the breaking of the terrible drought. The fruits of the woods came to feed the bodies of those who had accepted the food of the spirit, and “the King being made pious and gentle by God, granted him (Wilfrid) his own town in which he lived, for a bishop’s see, with lands of 87 houses in Selesie afterwards added thereto, to the holy new evangelist and baptist who opened to him and all his people the way of everlasting life, and there he founded a monastery for a resting-place for his assembled brothers, which even to this day belongs to his servants.” (Eddi’s Life of Bishop Wilfrid.)

The monastery site was probably the same as that of the cathedral, now beneath the waves, about a mile east of the present Selsey church.

To explore the peninsula a start should be made at Appledram, a small village close to Chichester Channel and about two miles south-east of the city; here is a fine Early English church, on the south of which is an ancient farm-house, originally a tower built by one Renan in the reign of Edward II. The King would not grant permission for its crenellation, Renan thereupon disposed of most of the materials and they were used to build the campanile at Chichester. Footpaths lead across the meadows to Donnington where is another Early English church of but little interest. A mile away on the banks of the disused Chichester and Arundel canal is the strangely named “Manhood End.” This is a corruption of Mainwood, and refers to the great forest which once stretched from the Downs to the sea. A rather dull walk westwards past Birdham to West Itchenor, a remote little place on the shores of the creek, is amply repaid by the fine views northwards up the Bosham channel, with the far-flung line of the Downs beyond. (A ferry can be taken from here which would make a short cut to Bosham or Fishbourne practicable.) Returning past the church with its interesting font, a footpath is taken to West Wittering and its very fine Transitional church, the most interesting ecclesiastical building in the Selsey Peninsula; note the two rude sculptures of the Annunciation and Resurrection at the ends of a canopied altar tomb; and a coffin lid with pastoral staff possibly of a “boy-bishop.” We are now on that portion of the coast which approximates most nearly to the original spot, now beneath the waves, where the first colonists of Sussex landed.

At East Wittering a short distance away is an Early English church with a Norman door. This is not far from Bracklesham Bay, an adventurous excursion for Selsey Beach visitors who come here treasure hunting for fossils, of which large numbers repay careful search. To reach Selsey “town” devious ways must be taken past Earnley, which is surely the quietest and most remote hamlet in the kingdom, on the road from nowhere to nowhere; or we may, if impervious to fatigue, follow the beach all the way to Selsey Bill. The settlement is easily approached from Chichester and the South Coast line by the Selsey Tramway (8 miles). The charm of the place, which consists in a great measure in its air of remoteness, is likely to be soon destroyed. Pleasant bungalows, of a more solid type than usual, are springing up everywhere between the railway and the Bill, though here we may still stand on the blunt-nosed end of Sussex and watch the sun rise or set in the sea.

It would be interesting to know if the quality of the buildings erected will enable them to last until the sea eventually disposes of Selsey. The encroachment of the waves, especially on the eastern side of the Bill, has been more rapid than on any other part of the coast, except perhaps certain parts of Norfolk. The sea immediately east of Selsey is called the “Park”; this was actually a deer-park no longer ago than Tudor times and in Camden’s day the foundations of Selsey Cathedral could be seen at low water.

The Transitional church was rebuilt in 1867 from the materials of the older church, two miles away at Church Norton, where the chancel still remains among its old mossy tombs. Each stone and beam was placed in the same position on the new site. The old chancel at Church Norton contains a battered tomb to John Lewes and his wife (1537). Near-by is a mediaeval rectory, once a priory, dating from the fourteenth century, very quaint and picturesque.

We now follow the line of the light railway. At Sidlesham, the first halt, is a restored Early English church containing a fine old chest. Note the curious epitaphs within and also on the gravestones in the churchyard, and, not least, the queer names that accompany them: “Glue,” “Gravy,” “Earwicker” etc.

From the station a footpath may be taken to Pagham and what is left of the harbour of that name. Here there was until late years a curious phenomenon known as the “Hushing Well.” A rush of air would burst through the water in the harbour at the time of the incoming tide. The “well” was destroyed by draining operations which also caused the disappearance of large numbers of rare water fowl and aquatic insects, though the naturalist will still be repaid by a visit to this lonely coast and its immediate surroundings. A short time ago the sea made an entrance, but without reconstructing the old conditions. It is no longer practicable to walk along the coast to Bognor.

Pagham Church is an interesting Early English building dedicated to St. Thomas of Canterbury and erected by a successor to St. Augustine’s Chair. Note a slab in the chancel with Lombardic lettering and the old glass in the east window. The scanty remains of the episcopal palace may be seen southeast of the church.

From Hunston Halt a walk of about a mile westwards leads to another remote and straggling village, North Mundham. In the restored church is a Saxon font and certain curious sculptures may be seen outside the door. From here it is only two miles to Chichester, passing Rumboldswyke church, which has interesting features, including Roman brickwork in the chancel arch.

The Portsmouth road, in three miles from Chichester, reaches Walton, where a turning to the left leads in another mile to Bosham, certainly the most interesting relic of the past in West Sussex. Bosham (pron. Bozam) to-day seems existent solely in the interest of artists; it is certainly the most besketched place on the South Coast and is rarely, in fine weather, without one or more easels on its quiet quay. The best loved hours of the day for the painting or sketching fraternity those of low tide, when every boat lies at a different angle will be the most unpopular for the ordinary visitor, who will be eager for the friendly smoke-scented parlour of the inn as a refuge from the flavour of the malodorous flats; at low tide Bosham is certainly picturesque, at the full she is comely and clean.

The harbour, from British, through Roman, Saxon and Norman times to the later middle ages, was one of the principal entrances to and exits from this county. It was on several occasions harried by the Danes and, as depicted on the Bayeux Tapestry, Harold left here on that visit which was to have such dire consequences for himself and his line, and such untold results on the history of the nation-to-be. The great Emperor of the North Knut was a frequent visitor to the creek in his dragon-prowed barque. His palace, also the home of Earl Godwin and Harold, is supposed to have been on the northeast of the church, where a moat is still in existence. It is here that the incident recorded in every school reader, the historic rebuke to sycophantic courtiers, is said to have taken place.

The church is of venerable antiquity. The tower has certain indications which point to its being Saxon work. The chancel arch may be still older in its base, and some authorities suggest that the lower portions are actually the remains of the basilica erected in the time of Constantine, on the site of which the church now stands. The east portions of the chancel are Early English and once formed the chapel of a college founded by William Warlewaste, Bishop of Exeter (1120). Note the figure in the north wall, said to be that of the daughter of Knut who died here while on a visit to Earl Godwin. The effigy is, however, of much later date. The fine arcaded font is placed upon high steps against a column. At the east end of the south aisle the floor is raised over an Early English crypt or charnel-house, the entrance to which is close to a canopied tomb. This tomb is that of Herbert of Bosham, secretary to Becket, who wrote the Book of Becket’s Martyrdom.

The church was restored in 1865 and during this work the most interesting discovery was made of the traditional burial place of Knut’s daughter. How often has a local tradition, accepted as fact by the peasant, but looked upon as an idle tale by his educated superior, proved to have more than a grain of truth in it and sometimes to be a very circumstantial record of actualities, and fully supported by antiquarian research. The exact position of the grave is shown by the figure of a Danish raven painted upon a tile, and a stone slab with an inscription upon it placed by the children of Bosham in 1906.

One of the ancient bells was stolen by Danish pirates; the story goes that when half way to the open sea a storm arose which swamped the boat in consequence of the great weight of the metal on board. On high festivals of the Church, a Bosham man will tell you, its sound can be heard from the waves mingling with the chimes of the modern bells of the tower. As a matter of fact the echo of the peal, thrown back by the woods of West Itchenor, is, in certain favourable conditions of the atmosphere, distinctly like a second chime, and might deceive a stranger into thinking that another church lay across the water.

A most interesting fact recorded by the Venerable Bede is that when Wilfrid of York came here in 681 he found a religious house ruled by a monk named Dicul. It was this monk who had converted King Ethelwalch before Wilfrid arrived. The existence of this tiny community in the midst of hostile tribes, over two hundred years after the extinction of Christianity in the south, is a matter of high romance in the history of the faith in Britain.

There are two other isolated bits of Sussex on the south of the high road to Emsworth, the first containing the small hamlet of Chidham with a beautiful little Early English church; the next is occupied by West Thorney. Here is another church of the same period with a Transitional tower and a Norman font. This peninsula was until quite recently an island and the home of innumerable sea fowl.

Emsworth is almost entirely in Hampshire and therefore outside our limits, but we can well make it the starting place for the last corner of seaward Sussex unexplored.

Westbourne, one mile north of Emsworth, has a fine Transitional church with a large number of monuments and an imposing avenue of yews. At Racton to the north-east is the well-known seamark tower used by mariners in the navigation of the channels of Chichester Harbour. The church has a monument to an ancestor of that Colonel Gunter who took part in the escape of Charles II. Near by is Lordington House, erected by the father of Cardinal Pole and said to be haunted by the ghost of that Countess of Salisbury who, when an old woman upwards of seventy, was beheaded by the order of Henry VIII, and caused the headman much trouble by refusing to place her head upon the block; an illustration by Cruickshank depicts the executioner chasing the Countess round the platform.

Several roads lead north through beautiful country, covered by lonely and unfrequented woodlands, to the Mardens. West Marden is about five miles from Emsworth and close to the Hampshire border; all the four villages which bear this name are among the most primitive in southern England. At North Marden is a plain unrestored Norman church, the only one in the immediate vicinity which is worth a visit for its own sake. Compton, a mile beyond West Marden, has a Transitional Norman church partly rebuilt; this is close to Lady Holt Park, a favourite retreat of Pope; and Up Park, a fine expanse of woodland, where the Carylls once lived; their estates were forfeited for their championship of the Stuarts. The northern end of the park rises to the edge of the Downs close to Torberry Hill, the last summit in Sussex, though the traveller who is so inclined may, with much advantage to himself, penetrate into the lonely recesses of the Hampshire hills, sacred to the shade of Gilbert White, and, still within the probable limits of the ancient kingdom of Sussex, finish his travels at Butser Hill and Petersfield.

Butser Hill is 889 feet above the sea, and therefore higher than any point of the range within Sussex. This well-known summit is familiar to all travellers on the Portsmouth road, from which it rises with imposing effect on the west of the pass beyond Petersfield. Here the South Downs, so called, may be said to end. The chalk hills are continued right across Hampshire, slowly diminishing in height until they are lost in the great plateau of Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire.

Between a fold of the hills lies picturesque Harting in a most delightful situation; an ideal spot for a restful time away from twentieth-century conditions. The tourist, if amenable to the simple life, might well make a stay of a few days to explore the lovely country of which this village forms the centre. The finely placed Early English cruciform church has several interesting monuments to members of former local families, including sixteenth century memorials of the Cowper-Coles. Here is buried Lord Grey, who was connected with the Rye House Plot. Notice the embroidery in the reredos, an unusual style; also the fine wooden roof and shorn pillars; the latter detract from the general effect of the interior and have been noticed in other Downland churches on our route. Quite close to the church are the old village stocks, undoubtedly placed in this position for the sake of convenience, the “court” in more remote districts having been held, in former times, in the church itself. Harting was for a time the home of Anthony Trollope, and Cardinal Pole was rector here.

There are few districts in England and certainly none south of the Trent where old customs and queer legends persist with so much vitality as in these lonely combes and hollows. The effect of being out of the world is perhaps enhanced in these western Downs by the ring fence of dark woods through which we have to pass to reach the bare, wind-swept solitudes and lonely hamlets within them. The northern escarpment and southern flanks of the hills are clothed in vast forests of beech which add that grandeur to the great ramparts of chalk which the eastern ranges lack. Seen through the ever-shifting sea mists which creep up from the channel these heights take on an appearance of greater altitude and an added glamour of mystery.

South-east of Harting is the isolated Beacon Hill, once a semaphore station between Portsmouth and London; but instead of taking at once to the heights, the pedestrian should first visit Elsted up on its own little hill, and Treyford a mile farther; both churches are ruined and deserted. A new church with a spire that forms a landmark for many miles, stands midway between the two and serves both. Elsted has an inn from the doorway of which the traveller has a superb view of the Downs. From Treyford a bridle-path leads directly south to the summit of Treyford Hill, where are five barrows called “The Devil’s Jumps.” From here the track running along the top of the Down will bring us in two miles to the bold spurs of Linch Down (818 feet), the finest view-point on the western Downs, the views over the Weald being magnificent in all directions. A track will have been noticed on the west side of the summit, and a return should be made to this, and then by striking southwards through the Westdean woods we eventually reach Chilgrove. We might then climb the opposite spur and keep southwards until the ridge rises to the escarpment of Bow Hill, but the finest walk of all and the most fitting termination to our tour will be to keep to the rough road which runs down the valley south-east to Welldown Farm. Here a road turns right and in a little over a mile drops to the romantically beautiful Kingley Vale.

This vale is a cup-shaped hollow in the south side of Bow Hill; its steep sides are clothed in a sombre garb of yews and at the farther end of the combe is a solemn grove of these venerable trees amid which broad noon becomes a mystic twilight filled with the spirit of awe; a fitting place for the burial of warrior kings with wild, barbaric rite. Tradition has it that many Danish chieftains were here defeated and slain and that here beneath the yews they rest. But who shall say what other strange scenes these lonely deeps in the bosom of the hills have witnessed before Saxon or Dane replaced the Celt; who in turn, for all his fierce and arrogant ways, went, by night, in fear and trembling of those spiteful little men he himself displaced, and whose vengeance or pitiful gratitude is perpetuated in the first romances of our childhood. Though their living homes were in the primeval forests of the Britain that was, their last long resting places were under the open skies on the summits of the wind-swept Downs. Many of the smooth green barrows that enclosed their remains have been ruthlessly rifled and desecrated by greed or curiosity. It is to be hoped that the votaries of this form of archaeological research have now discovered all that they desired to know, and that our far-off ancestors will be left to the peace we do not grudge our more immediate forefathers.