On a rising ground to the left of the road from Oxford to London, through Wycombe, and at the distance of four miles from Oxford, stands the little church of Forrest Hill; its gabled bell turret, containing two bells in open arches, rising above the surrounding foliage, forming a conspicuous and highly picturesque object. Forrest Hill is a long, straggling village, built on a ridge of land beyond the church, which occupies alone the brow of the hill. The churchyard is small, and surrounded and overhung with trees: the hollies, the yews, and weeping willows, all in the utmost luxuriance, forming a beautiful contrast with each other, and giving to the graveyard that spirit of quiet and holiness which always ought to be the characteristic of the church, which was dedicated to St. Nicholas the Confessor, on the 6th July, 1273, is small and compact, being composed of one aisle, divided into nave and chancel. At the west end is a fine early English bell-gable, and two singularly large buttresses standing out in bold projection.
But it is to its association with the name of Milton, that sublime and immortal poet, and stern republican, that Forrest Hill owes its celebrity; for in this church, in 1643, he was married to his first wife, Maria Powell, eldest daughter of Mr. Richard Powell, of the same place, “a justice of the peace, and a gentleman of good repute in the county.” In the register is her baptism, as follows, “Maria Powell, the daughter of Richard Powell, baptized the 28th day of January 1625.” The marriage with her does not, however, appear to have been a very happy one—whether on account of the Powells being stanch royalists, or from private reasons, does not appear; but before they had been married a month she, at the invitation of her friends, and with his consent, returned to Forrest Hill, promising to instead of returning, she treated his messenger with contempt, and sent him her determination to remain there altogether. He resented this behaviour, and, having published several tracts in defence of his conduct, he began paying his addresses to a daughter of Dr. David. This frightened his wife and her family, and it determined them to seek a reconciliation, which was brought about as follows:—He had a relation, named Blackborough, in St. Martin’s-le-Grand, where he frequently visited, and it was contrived one day, when he was visiting there, that his wife “should be ready in another room, and, as he was thinking of nothing less, he was surprised to see her whom he expected to have never seen any more, falling down upon her knees at his feet, and imploring his forgiveness with tears. At first he showed some signs of aversion; but he continued not long inexorable; his wife’s entreaties and the intercession of friends on both sides” soon brought about a reconciliation. It is supposed that this incident was the groundwork of that beautiful part of “Paradise Lost,” where Eve,
Now at his feet, submissive in distress,
is praying Adam’s forgiveness.
After this, Mr. and Mrs. Powell, with their sons and daughters, were received into his house by this generous and noble poet during their troubles. After having two or three children, she at length died in childbed in 1653.
The house in which Mr. Powell resided was adjacent to the church, but has been nearly all destroyed. There was, until the last few months, a fine specimen of pargetting, representing Adam and Eve, &c., on the end of one of the outhouses, but it has also been destroyed ; there is, however, yet remaining at the end of a building now used as a pigeon-house a gable ornamented in the same way, with a rose, a thistle, some fleurs-de-lis, vine leaves, grapes, &c., and on which also are the traces of stairs and balustrades, leading to an upper apartment, which tradition states to have been the poet’s study while at Forrest Hill.
Another celebrated poet, William Julius Mickle, is intimately connected with this place. He married the daughter of Robert and Elizabeth Tomkins, of Forrest Hill, and he is buried on the north side of the church, and on his gravestone is recorded, “William Julius Mickle, born Sept. 29th, 1734 ; died 25th Oct., 1788.”
Mickle who bad the strong poetic tide
Roll o’er Britannia’s shores in Lusitanian pride.
The Illustrated London News, London, England, Week Ending October 15, 1842
