The great charm of Woodhall Spa is its “Rus in Urbe” character. The
visitor can hardly go for ten minutes in any direction from his hotel or
lodgings but he finds himself by the woodside, among the hedgerows or on
the heath, where the jaded spirit, or the enfeebled frame, may draw fresh
energy from the bracing air, richly charged with ozone, and even at times
perceptibly impregnated with the tonic flavour of the iodine. The author
of a recent publication who visited Woodhall Spa, in 1897, says:
“Woodhall is as unlike the usual run of fashionable watering places as
one can well imagine. It is a charming health resort—situated on a dry,
sandy soil, where fir trees flourish—there are wild moors, purple with
heather, and aglow with golden gorse; a land of health, and the air
deliciously bracing. I do not think (he adds) there is a purer or more
exhilarating air to be found in all England, or for that matter out of
it.” {27a}
Of the surrounding scenery it need hardly be said that we are not in the
land of “the mountain,” though we have the “brown heath, and shaggy
wood,” and occasionally, not far off, “the flood,” sung of by Scotia’s
bard. But within sight are the Wolds, whose precipitous sides have, to
my knowledge, astonished strangers, who, judging from the country
traversed by the railway from Peterborough, expected to find the whole
county as level as a billiard table. {27b} The flatness of the country,
however, is amply made up for by other redeeming features. Within a mile
of the Spa a view is obtained stretching more than 20 miles, with the
grand Cathedral (which Ruskin says is “worth any two others in the
kingdom”) crowning the “steep” hill of Lincoln on the horizon. “’Tis
distance lends enchantment to the view,” says the poet Campbell; and this
prospect, slightly undulating, with extensive woods barring it at
intervals, and village spires rising from their midst, seen through the
marvellously clear atmosphere which we often enjoy, is a sight worth
seeing.
An old writer {27c} describes the air as being “crass, and full of rotten
harrs”; and Drayton, in his “Polyolbion” {28a} speaks of the “unwholesome
ayre, and more unwholesome soyle”; but that condition of things has long
ago passed away. Another charming effect of these distant prospects is
the glorious sunsets. Kingsley, in his “Hereward the Wake,” truly says,
the “vastness gives such cloudlands, such sunrises, such sunsets, as can
be seen nowhere else in these isles.” A writer, whom I have already
quoted, says, “I am inclined to think the sky scenery, if I may be
allowed the term, the finest and most wonderful in the world.” As to
“its gorgeous sunsets, you look upon an atmosphere saturated with colour,
so that it becomes opalesque; and the sinking sun, seen through the
vibrating air, is magnificent. From the slopes of far California I have
looked down upon the sun dipping into the wide Pacific, amid a riot of
colour, but nothing like this.” {28b} Nor is this any exaggeration. The
visitor to Woodhall may see it for himself, and the writer has often
gazed upon it. Towards evening the soft blue of the distance becomes
gradually lit up by the lowering sun with the most gorgeous and varied
shades of purple, gold, and ruby, until he sinks below the horizon in a
blaze of crimson glory. Then follow, softer, more mellowed tints of
violet, pink, emerald green, exquisite greys, and varying hues of the
most delicate kinds, until they slowly fade away into the shades of
night, or the silvery sheen of the moon.
For the student of nature, there are special attractions in the botany of
the neighbourhood; scarcely less in its ornithology. The wild,
four-footed creatures also are in unusual variety; and within easy reach
the antiquarian will find objects of very special interest.
In these pages it would be impossible to treat of all these subjects
fully.
I will take botany first. And I would here make the preliminary
observation, that, in specifying different plants to be found in the near
vicinity, I shall not indicate exactly the _habitat_ of each, for the
sake of preserving to Woodhall Spa in the future some of its choicest
attractions. The track of the invading tourist is too often marked by
massacre. A French ambassador, describing some years ago the country
life of our gentry, said that one of the first proposals, made after
breakfast by the host, would be, “Let us go out and kill something”; and
this national tendency has disastrously affected our Flora as well as our
Fauna. A writer has said, “There is a base sort of botanist who prods up
choice treasures wantonly to destroy them. They are murderers, to be
classed with those who have stamped the quagga out of Africa, or those
who fly to firearms if Nature sends a rare migrant creature of air, or
earth, or water, in their way.” Go through our English lakes, as the
writer did recently, after not having visited them for several years, and
you will find, for instance, the falls of Lodore, where once the
parsley-fern abounded, now entirely stript of it. Just as—to take a
parallel case—in a certain stream in Borrowdale, where some years ago the
writer caught so many trout that the widow, in whose cottage he lodged,
offered to keep him any length of time gratis, so long as he would supply
her with fish at the same rate; now, in that stream hardly a fish is to
be caught, from its so constantly being “flogged” by the tourist. The
same holds good, though, so far, in a less degree, at Woodhall.
“Ichabod” may be writ in large characters over the record of some of the
plants once plentiful. I shall, therefore, leave the botanist, with few
exceptions, to hunt out the specimens for himself, only stating that they
exist. But is not this, after all, the chief charm of his pursuit to the
true lover of Nature? To have everything found to hand for him may
indeed lessen his labours, but it robs him of all the gratification with
which he can exclaim “Eureka,” as his eyes rest upon the long-sought
prize which he has found for himself. The difference between the true
botanist and the sportsman has been thus defined: “The sportsman seeks to
kill; the botanist seeks to find, to admire, and to preserve.” Would
that it were always so. From the great difference in the soils in the
immediate neighbourhood, varying from the lightest sand to the stiffest
clay, or from the peat and bog of the fen to the gravel of the moor, or
the leafy mould of the wood, there is also a very great variety of wild
plants. The late Rev. R. H. Webb, author of “The Botany of Herts,” was
some years ago a frequent visitor at Woodhall Spa, and he assured the
writer, that in all his experience he had never known so large or so
interesting a variety as was to be found in this neighbourhood. On one
occasion the writer, collecting wild plants for a flower show, gathered,
in the course of a morning’s walk, more than 110 different specimens.
Probably the rarest plant was the Silene Quinque vulneralis, the
discovery of which led to a lengthy correspondence, it being rarely found
in England, though fairly common in Jersey. It was growing in a field
which now forms part of the garden of the Victoria Hotel. The
alterations necessary to make that transformation extinguished it, or
rather buried it out of sight; but as some correspondents gave instances
where it had recurred in localities in which it had for years been
unknown, there is no absolute reason why it should not also reappear in
this case. Should it do so, we can only cry, _parce_, _precor_, to the
too ruthless collector. The Osmunda Regalis, again, a few years ago was
very plentiful; the writer has had plants of it which grew to be three,
four, and even five feet in height, but it is now quite extinct. Not
only so, but the writer, finding this to be the case, replanted some
roots of it in 1897, where he fondly hoped they would escape observation,
but, on going to look for them the following year, he found the soil dug
up all round the place by the trespassing marauder, and not a trace of
them was left.
The following plants have been mentioned by different authorities as
among those which are be found. The Rev. E. Adrian Woodruffe Peacock,
secretary to the Lincolnshire Naturalists’ Union, says: “We may expect to
find some of the following rare plants—Ranunculus Hederaceus, Corydalis
claviculata, Raphanus Raphanistrum, Silene Quinque-Vulnera (most rare),
Silene Anglica (not so rare), Vicia Bobartii, Cotyledon Umbilicus, Sedum
Villosum, Sedum Reflexum, Drosera Anglica, Epilobium Tetragonum,
Campanula Ranunculoides. At a meeting of the Alford Naturalists’ Society
the secretary exhibited the following plants, obtained from the Woodhall
district, presenting a striking difference to the plants found about
Alford, owing to the sandy moorland soil of Woodhall:—Calluna Erica
(ling), Erica Tetralix (cross-leaved heath), Artemisia Vulgaris
(mugwort). Marrubium Vulgare (white horehound), Teucrium Scorodonia
(wood sage), Hydrocotyle Vulgaris (white-rot), and the Hardfern (Lomaria
Spicant); also fruiting specimens of Solidago Virgaurea (golden rod),
Lepidium Campestre (field pepper-wort), Cotyledon Umbilicus (wall
penny-wort).”
I conducted the members of the Lincoln Natural History and Archæological
Society round the neighbourhood a few years ago, in the month of April,
and they reported 39 plants as being then in flower, the most interesting
being Saxifraga Tridactylites (stone-crop), Draba Verna (vernal whitlow
grass), Erodium Cicutarium (hemlock, stork’s bill), Cotyledon Umbilicus
(wall pennywort), and the Tussilago Petasites (butter-bur), Stellaria
Holostea (greater stitchwort); also Parietaria Officinalis (wall
pellitory), not yet in bloom, and in a pond Stratiotes Aloides (water
soldier) in great abundance.
More recently I conducted the members of the Lincolnshire Natural History
Union through the district, in the month of August, and the following is
a list of their chief “finds”; Hieracium Boreale (hawkweed), Lysimachia
Vulgaris (yellow loose strife), Melampyrum Pratense (yellow-cow wheat),
Tycopus Europeus (gipsy-wort), Solidago Virgaurea (golden rod), Malva
Moschata (musk mallow), also a white variety of the common mallow (Malva
Sylvestris), the two cresses, Lepidium Smithii and L. Campestre,
Sparganium Simplex (simple bur-reed) the mints (Mentha Sativa, and M.
Arvensis), Lythrum Salicaria (purple loosestrife), Geranium Columbinum
(long-stalked cranesbill), Scutellaria Galericulata (skull-cap),
Polygonum Hydropiper (water pepper), Lysimachia Nemorum (yellow
pimpernel), Rhamnus Frangula (buckthorn), Gentiana Pneumonantha (blue
gentian), Erica, Cinerea (heath), Malva Rotundifolia (round-leaved
mallow), Marrubium Vulgare (white horehound), Calamintha Acinos (basil
thyme), Eriophorum Angustifolium (cotton grass), Narthekium Ossifragum
(bog asphodel), Galeopsis Bifida (hemp nettle), Senecio Sylvaticus
(ragwort), three St. John’s worts, viz. Hypericum Pulchrum, H.
Quaodrangulum, and H. Perforatum, Spergula Arvensis (corn spurrey),
Saponaria Officinalis (common soap wort), Drosera Rotundifolia
(round-leaved sundew), D. Intermedia (intermediate variety), Epilobium
Macrocarpum (long-fruited willow herb), E. Parviflorum (small flowered
do.). E. Palustre (marsh do.), Circœa Lutetiana (enchanter’s
night-shade), Pimpinella Magna (greater burnet saxifrage), Valeriana
Sambucifolia (elder-leaved valerian), Solidago Virgaunea (golden rod),
Gnaphalium Sylvaticum (high land cudwort), Hieracium Umbellatum
(narrow-leaved hawk weed), Alnus Glutinosa (common alder), Juncus
Acutiflorus (sharp-flowered rush), Anagallis Pallida (pale-coloured
pimpernel), Pedicularitis Sylvatica (dwarf red rattle), Pinguicola
Vulgaris (common butter-wort), Viola Flavicornis, also called V.
Ericetorum (yellow-horned violet). {31} The Cichorium (succory) and
Parnassia Palustris (grass of Parnassus) are found in the neighbourhood.
The Myrica (“Gale” or bog-myrtle) is very abundant, and a useful
preventive against the moth if placed in wardrobes or drawers. Like the
Osmunda, the Pinguicola (butterwort), appears to be now extinct, owing
either to drainage or to the ever-offending collector. Another
interesting plant which at present is not to be found, though it may at
any time recur, {32} is the Holy thistle, or Mary thistle (Carduus
Marianus). Formerly plentiful, a mile away from the Spa, about the ruins
of Kirkstead Abbey, it has been of late years entirely stubbed up by
successive tenants of the farm. There is one locality, about three miles
distant, to which specimens were transplanted a few years ago, and where
it still survives. It also grew not far from the church of Old Woodhall,
but there also farmers’ operations have exterminated it. Called the
“Milk” or “St. Mary’s” thistle, because its white-veined leaves were
traditionally said to have been lashed with the virgin’s milk, it is
doubtless a survivor from the gardens tended and cherished by the monk of
old. The Botrychium Lunaria (moonwort) and Ophioglossum (adder’s tongue)
are found within 300 yards of the Baths (occasionally intermittent for a
season); the Trichomanes (English maidenhair) grows in one solitary place
on the inner walls of a closed well, though entirely unknown anywhere
else for many miles round. Several varieties of ferns grow very
luxuriantly. Before leaving the botany of the neighbourhood, I would
direct the reader to an appendix at the end of this volume, giving a list
of a considerable number of plants with their local vernacular names,
which was compiled for me by a naturalist, who made this subject his
special study during a prolonged sojourn at Woodhall Spa.
There are several different mosses, and a great variety of fungi.
This varied flora conduces to a corresponding variety of insect life. On
one of the occasions referred to above, the following beetles were
found:—Loricera Pillicornis, Geotrupes Spiniger, G. Stercorarius,
Elaphras Cupreus, Leistotrophus Nebulosus, Hister Stercorarius, Aphodius
Fœtens, A. Fimitarius, A. Sordidus, 22-Punctata, and Sphœridium
Bi-pustulatum.
Of butterflies there is not a great variety. The Papilio Machaon
(swallow-tail) used to be common about the reedy pools and bogs near the
Moor; but owing to drainage and clearance none have been seen for several
years. The huge heaps of the aromatic ant were formerly very common in
the woods close to the Spa, but the eggs being a favourite food for the
pheasant, and collected by the keepers for that purpose, there seems to
be none left.