Countryside Column for 17 May 2013 under headline:
Shrinking river was ideal incentive for smugglers
I very nearly
toppled out of a dinghy the other day.
And given the trouble Myrtle had scrabbling up the muddy bank after
retrieving a stick, I might have been in the water for some time.
It was the river
Limen, and my alter ego, 18th century smuggler Gabriel Tomkins, complete
with tricorn hat, sword and pistol, was at Newenden for a publicity shoot. It’s
for a forthcoming Smuggler Tales event onboard the boat that chugs passengers
up to Bodiam or down towards Rye.
Alert readers may
be expostulating that the river there, separating Kent from East Sussex, is not
the Limen but the Rother. And so it is now. But up until about 1600 it was known
by its Latin name. And a very different
river it was too. Not the narrow
ditch-like stream with stepped high banks of today, but a vastly wide, tidal waterway that was the artery of the
Weald.
Its importance
dates from a thousand years before the Romans, when the Belgae arrived from the
Rhineland in search of industrial opportunity.
For them the Limen was the only route into the dark interior of the
Wealden forest. They were seeking a strange mineral - iron ore - and they found
it in abundance in the local sedimentary rock. They also found quantities of
the two other requisites for smelting iron – clay for the kiln and wood for the
charcoal to fire it.
Tony Cardwell’s
excellent history “Limen” shows that extensive iron working in and around the
valley continued right into the 18th century. Then, with the river silting up and the
forest denuded, hammer mills at places like Wadhurst, Hawkhurst and, finally,
Robertsbridge closed for good.
That contributed to
the serious unemployment already created by the shifting river landlocking
ports like Smallhythe and Rye. With the government levying swingeing import
taxes on tea and tobacco and brandy, opportunity knocked for smugglers like Tomkins
with his Mayfield and Hawkhurst gangs.
They would likely
have used the Limen/Rother to move their tubs inland, while redundant watermen
at Rye and Winchelsea would have leapt at the chance to earn the odd florin or
crown helping bring the smuggled goods ashore.
Viewing the
emasculated Rother today from an unstable rowing boat it’s hard to imagine the mighty Limen spread out across
the whole valley with a multitude of craft servicing our own local iron
industry.
Read previous columns at: kentcountrymatters.blogspot.co.uk