If we set out from the pleasant ferry of Lymington this is the first place to welcome us to the Garden Isle, it is like a piece of tapestry as we approach, and on arriving is a veritable picture with its little harbour full of sail. There is no more delightful scene in the island than Yarmouth Harbour on a sunny day when the ferry arrives and the yachts of many colours (red, green, yellow, and white) are lying here. It is among the oldest towns in the island, and was once the seat of the Governor. It has still a castle which was one of four blockhouses built by Henry VIII for defence against the French, who twice set Yarmouth on fire; but the castle, garrisoned until last century, is now dismantled in the grounds of a hotel managed by the Ministry of Public Building and Works. It has a fine Queen Anne staircase.

There is a tiny 18th century town hall standing over what was once the market, and in it is a lovely mace of solid silver, with Charles Ils arms on the top and his initials at the foot. There are beautiful old charters written on vellum, with seals attached by coloured plaits of silk, of which the earliest goes back to 1334. The old books of Yarmouth are at the bottom of the sea, and this is how they went. At a Court Leet dinner in 1784 one of the guests was a captain from a ship in the harbour, and, having dined not wisely but too well, he saw as he left a case of what he thought to be wine, and secretly carried it off to his ship. There he discovered that the case was full of books, and in his disgust he threw them overboard.

Many pilgrims are drawn to the 17th century church by a monument which has had a strange adventure. It is on the tomb of Sir Robert Holmes (1692), the bluff admiral who twice entertained Charles II and is renowned for deeds that made their mark upon the world. He stands under a canopy supported on porphyry columns, an impressive but singular figure in rich armour, his face rather out of keeping with the rest of him for a reason that is no fault of the sculptor. The statue was not made for him but for Louis XIV of France. It was finished except for the head, which the sculptor wished to fashion from life, and the marble was on its way to Versailles for this purpose when it was captured by the admiral, who thought it would do splendidly for his tomb and had his own head put where the French king's should have been.

Text courtesy of: Southern Life (UK)