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History of the House
1838 Image produced from the www.old-maps.co.uk service with permission of Landmark Information Group Ltd. and Ordnance Survey This map of the area in 1874 gives an idea of the seclusion of the place. There were, of course, no housing estates there then, and the House itself had large grounds that would later be styled by Joseph Paxton. The nearest settlement of any significance would have been the village of Alverstoke. Otherwise fields and trees were the order of the day, whilst the views south over the Solent to the Isle of Wight were magnificent. The house itself was a large and substantial building, with a first floor balcony, no doubt to allow the occupants to take advantage of that view. 140 years later that balcony was to be accessed via my sixth form tutor room, and the refreshing sea breeze on a summers day whilst gazing across the water was still appreciated by us students! Back in 1838, it seems the weather was less pleasant, and was hindering the construction of the house. Lord Ashburton wrote then, "We shall not get to Bay House this summer. The rain beats in worse than ever, and I have written to Burton that he should understand these miseries, but that if there is no cure for them I must pull the house down". Fortunately he didn't! By House was used to entertain the many important and influential friends of the second Lord Ashburton William Baring. These have included the likes of Tennyson, Thackery, and Thomas and Jane Carlyle. The coming of the railway to Gosport in 1842 had eased the journey from London and elsewhere. Interestingly, Jane Carlyle often wrote letters home whilst staying at Bay House, and these give a fascinating insight to life at the house. Many of these letters are now available to read online. My favourites read as follows; T. Carlyle, Esq., The Gill. Bay House: Monday, Aug. 2, 1858. All right, dear; I got through my journey much better than could have been expected, having slept even soundly (mercifully), just the last night before leaving. A fat, old, real lady in the carriage opposite me paid me 'delicate attentions;' lent me her smelling bottle, gave me her nosegay, put her dressing-case under my feet, &c. &c., having commenced acquaintance by asking, 'Have you been poorly long?' When she changed trains at Bishopstoke, she looked over her shoulder to say: 'I sincerely hope you may soon be better, ma'am.' How differently one's looks impress different people! The man who drove me from the station (and charged me three-and-sixpence!) evidently took me for well enough to be going to service at Bay House, for he turned round as soon as we passed through the gate to ask, 'was he to drive round to the back door?' And then the footman who received me took me for deaf! coming close up to me when he had anything to say, and shouting it into my ear. He was the only person I saw for three hours after my arrival. The 'Miss Barings out walking;' 'would I wish to be shown to my room?' 'Certainly.' 'Would I wish any refreshment?' 'Yes, a cup of tea.' It was brought, and then all lapsed into the profoundest silence. I could have fancied a pleasanter reception; at the same time 'it was coostom in part,' no harm meant. Having had lots of time to unpack and dress myself, I was first in the drawing-room before dinner. A gentleman came in, whom I liked the look of, but no word passed between us; then Mrs. Mildmay came, and finally my hostess, who assured me she was 'delighted to see me,' and so I was installed. Another lady entered with Emily, whom I recognised as Mrs. Frederick Baring, and the gentleman was Frederick Baring, whom I had never seen before, and of whom I had got the most absurdly unjust impression. Both he and his wife are kindly, unaffected people; he, indeed, strikes me as quite a superior man. I had a good deal of talk with him yesterday, and am sorry he is gone to-day. His wife went with him, so there is now only Mrs. Mildmay and her son. The railway journey made me so sleepy that I could hardly keep my eyes open till I got to bed, and in bed I slept in a wonderful manner. My room is the same where I lay three days in a sore throat, and the boy 'Jack' had to bring in my breakfast. But no association could keep me long awake that night. Certainly if pure air, and quiet, and wholesome food, and freedom from all 'cares' but of dressing oneself, can cure me, I shall be cured - in a few days. Yours ever, JANE W. CARLYLE. The second letter was written a few days later... T. Carlyle, Esq., The Gill. Bay House: Friday, August 7, 1858. Only Friday morning, dear, yet! Heaven knows! Possibly this may not reach you till Monday. However, when it does reach you it won't bring bad news. I still have nothing but good to tell of myself. I continue to get a very tolerable allowance of sleep, and to eat my breakfast 'with the same relish.' And, will you believe it? I eat two dinners every day. I do that - one at half-past one, and the other at eight; which last, I call, in my own mind, supper, and take no tea after. The little nervous cough is entirely gone, and the rough cough gets rarer every day. For the rest, I am quite comfortable morally. I never was put more at ease on a visit. I feel to have dropt into the regular life of the house, and to have found my place in it, without anybody taking trouble to adjust me, or myself taking trouble. The only visitor now besides myself is Mrs. Mildmay (yes, Geraldine's mother, a much nicer woman than one fancied her, full of fun and good humour). She reads to us for an hour or so after breakfast ('Chambers's Annals of Scotland'), while the rest sew. Then we go to our rooms to write, or do anything that needs privacy. I, for my part, take always a stroll on the shore before lunch at half-past one. At three we go out in the open carriage, and have the pleasantest drives, being permitted to sit perfectly silent; Miss Baring seems to think this the natural way of driving in the open air, and she is quite right. Coming in about five, there are the letters; each one takes her own, and retires to her own room till dinner-time. After dinner, till eleven, we talk, and work, and read the newspapers, and play piquet. At eleven the butler enters with a silver tray, containing four bright crystal tumblers filled with the purest cold water; nothing else whatever. I always take one, and have grown to feel a need of it. You cannot think how genial the Miss Barings are at home; what a deal of hearty laughing they do in a day! Yours ever, JANE CARLYLE. It certainly seems to me that these days
represent Bay House in its prime, perfectly performing the function
for which it was built - a house of leisure and gentle
entertainment. John Croker, a friend of Lord Ashburton, was so
impressed that in 1842 he was persuaded by Lord Ashburton to buy
land next to Bay House and build his own home there. This was
Alverbank House, later, of course, to become the Alverbank Hotel.
1870
"ASHBURTON HOUSE, GOSPORT The Admiralty are about to take a lease of Lord Ashburton's mansion and grounds on the shore of Stoke's Bay, which have recently been purchased by the War Department. It is the intention of the Admiralty, when the house and grounds are handed over to them, to fit the mansion up as a college for naval cadets. The mansion is situated at the western end of Stoke's Bay, immediately opposite the Palace of Osborne and the lawn extends to within fifty yards of high-water mark. The approach to the house is by a handsome drive with Gothic lodges and entrance-gates. A flight of steps lead to the porch, which gives entry to a noble hall, right and left of which are rooms of unusual size and height, admirably adapted for mess and schoolrooms, lecture-hall, and library. The upper storey contains thirty bedrooms capable of giving accommodation at once to one hundred cadets. A large garden, which extends from the back of the house, would be amply sufficient to supply the establishment all the year round with fruit and vegetables, while a ten-acre field adjacent to the lawn would furnish a capital playground. Forty acres of land altogether immediately surround the house. The shingle beach in front of the mansion affords a capital spot for the cadets to haul and stow their light pulling gigs, while beyond low-water mark the nature of the ground will afford an anchorage where large sailing-boats can be moored. The sleeping accommodation, being at present limited to 100 boys, would, of course, not be sufficient for a naval college where there is an average of two hundred cadets; but a wing could be added at little expense, and this addition would leave nothing to be desired in the mansion and estate. It would he contiguous to a Government dockyard; would he sufficiently distant, being two miles from Gosport, from any town to protect the pupils from the temptations thrown in the way of youths in a populous neighbourhood; and would be situated on a dry, gravely soil, with a southerly aspect, and near enough to the beach to have ready access to boats and sea-going tenders. "
Prince Alfred Ernest, Duke of Edinburgh and Queen Victoria's second son went to the academy, and stayed at Alverbank House whilst he was studying there. Edward Burney was 56 when he moved into Bay House. He had previously taught at Burneys Royal Academy at Clarence Square in Gosport, which had been established in 1791 as a boarding school for naval and military pupils by the Rev William Burney. Life at the Clarence Square Academy had been hard. It is described by Henry J. Coke in his book 'Tracks of a Rolling Stone' thus; "In 1838, when I was eleven years old, my
uncle... took me ... to the Naval Academy at Gosport. The very
afternoon of my admittance - as an illustration of the above remarks
- I had three fights with three different boys. ... I have spoken of
the starvation at Dr. Pinkney's; here it was the terrible bullying
that left its impress on me - literally its mark, for I still bear
the scar upon my hand. Most boys, I presume, know the toy called a
whirligig, made by stringing a button on a loop of thread, the
twisting and untwisting of which by approaching and separating the
hands causes the button to revolve. Upon this design, and by
substituting a jagged disk of slate for the button, the senior
'Bull-dogs' (we were all called 'Burney's bull-dogs') constructed a
very simple instrument of torture. One big boy spun the whirligig,
while another held the small boy's palm till the sharp slate-edge
gashed it. The wound was severe. For many years a long white
cicatrice recorded the fact in my right hand. The ordeal was, I
fancy, unique - a prerogative of the naval 'bull-dogs.' The other
torture was, in those days, not unknown to public schools. It was
to hold a boy's back and breech as near to a hot fire as his clothes
would bear without burning." The location of the House makes it easy to see
why it would have been attractive for this purpose. The census
return for 1881 shows the occupants of Bay House as follows;
I am very grateful to Margaret Wheeler for sending me these remarkable photos of Bay House taken around 1885. Contrast them with the 'sixth form photos' elsewhere on the site, and you will see just how little the building changed over a hundred years. I have no doubt that 1885 was the quieter time for the old place though!
1892
1943
It seems ironic that having survived for so many years, and through the wars, the end of Bay House so nearly came in November 1984. A fire tore through the tower, causing extensive damage. To the credit of the Council, the renovation of the house was thorough and sympathetic, to the extent that it was given an award in recognition of its efforts by the local historical society. Whatever one remembers of ones school years, and
whether those memories be good or bad, the elegance and grandeur of
the old house are indisputable. No longer is it a place of peaceful
and genteel leisure, but its working life has ensured its survival.
And if you walk around the old house after school hours, when all is
again quiet, there is just the chance you may hear the ghost of Jane
Carlyle as she wanders through the grounds enjoying the sunshine and
hospitality of her hosts... Bibliography; Thanks for their help and research to;
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