UNDER LEITH HILL
The Battle of Ockley.--The Stone Street.--The prettiest green in
Surrey.--Sweethearts and Roses.--When the Gentlemen went by.--An
engaging family history.--Oakwood: a forest chapel.--Capel
quiet.--Newdigate bells.--Martins in September.
Battlefields are not very numerous in Surrey. The Parliamentary wars
shed a little military glory on the North and the West, and attacks on
London from the Surrey side--its invulnerable side--belong to almost
every century of London's history. But the great Surrey battle, which
belongs to Ockley under Leith Hill, is of the battles of long ago, dim
and hazy in the mist of centuries, fearful with legends of blood in
rivers, and warriors laid in swathes like mown corn. Even now, country
tradition asserts, the rain that sweeps down Leith Hill sends the
rainpools red in the plain below. The great battle of Ockley was fought
when the Danes came two hundred and fifteen years before Harold fell at
Hastings. They had sailed across to Kent, the historian says, with three
hundred and fifty large ships, and had driven in Ethelstan, who was king
of Kent, Sussex, Essex, and Surrey, under his father Ethelwulf. They
sacked Canterbury, and went up the Thames to London; there they beat in
Beorhtwulf, king of the Mercians, and before them lay but one great
town, Winchester, unsacked. Down they swept over the Thames, and out of
his own country, Ethelwulf, of Wessex, overlord of the beaten Ethelstan
and Beorhtwulf, came to meet them. Up the great Stone Street, the Roman
road that runs as straight as a die from Chichester, he marched, and lay
across the front of his enemy, clear of the deep forest that spread
south of Ockley. The Danes came on. Perhaps they rested a night in the
old British camp on Anstiebury Hill, perhaps they swept straight on:
battle was joined "hard by Ockley wood." Local tradition, always apt to
associate notable deeds with easily marked places, makes the scene of
the battle Ockley Green; but the armies could not have seen each other
on the low ground, which must have been half swamp, half undergrowth.
They fought, no doubt, on the higher ground near Leith Hill. The
slaughter was prodigious; "blood stood ankle deep," and the day ended
with the great body of the Danes dead on the hills, and the rest flying
where they could along the roads and through the woods. Probably not a
Dane got away alive. It was a wonderful victory.
To-day the peace that broods over Ockley is born of wooded parks and
sunlit spaces. Ockley Green must be one of the largest in Surrey, and I
think is the prettiest of all. Along its western side runs a row of
noble elms, bordering the road, and under the shade of the elms an old
inn. This road is actually part of the Stone Street up which Ethelwulf
marched against the Danes; and it would be hardly possible to devise a
prettier road, as it passes under the Ockley elm trees, or a more
tranquil outlook for an inn. Low-roofed cottages edge the grass, warm
and sheltered; a drinking fountain on the green level suggests summer
games and thirsty cricketers; though I think Ockley has contributed no
great cricketers to the game. Beyond the green lie stretches of pasture
and rich and smiling woodland.
The church stands nearly a mile from the green, and to its quiet acre
belongs one of the prettiest traditions of bygone Surrey--the planting
of rose-trees over the graves of betrothed lovers. It was still a custom
in Aubrey's time:--
"In the churchyard are many red rose-trees planted among the graves,
which have been there beyond man's memory. The sweetheart (male or
female) plants roses at the head of the grave of the lover deceased;
a maid that had lost her dear twenty years since, yearly hath the
grave new turfed, and continues yet unmarried."
Rose-trees still grow in the churchyard, though perhaps the planting of
them does not go back beyond man's memory.
Although so quiet a little village to-day, the neighbourhood of Ockley
has seen some wild doings. Holmbury Hill, to the north, was once one of
the principal settlements of the "Heathers," or broom squires, who still
survive, a more respectable and a weaker folk, under Hindhead and
elsewhere. Here one of their chief occupations was smuggling; indeed,
the range of hills round Ewhurst and Holmbury Common served as a kind of
halfway house for the gentlemen who were riding with silk and brandy
from the Sussex seaboard to London. It was a Burwash mother who used to
put her child to bed with the injunction, "Now, mind, if the gentlemen
come along, don't you look out of the window"; doubtless the text which
inspired Mr. Kipling's delightful verses. But there must have been many
a Ewhurst and Ockley mother who knew "the gentlemen" by sight, and
counselled confiding children to hold their tongues and look in the
proper direction as the Burwash woman bids her child in Mr. Kipling's
song:--
"If you meet King George's men, dressed in blue and red,
You be careful what you say, and mindful what is said.
If they call you 'pretty maid,' and chuck you 'neath the chin,
Don't you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one's been
If you do as you've been told, likely there's a chance,
You'll be give a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood--
A present from the Gentlemen, along o' being good!
Five and twenty ponies
Trotting through the dark--
Brandy for the Parson,
'Baccy for the Clerk.
Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie--
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!"
The memory of smuggling under Leith Hill has, indeed, lasted into the
last decade. Mr. H.E. Malden, the Surrey historian to whom all Surrey
writers and readers owe so much, tells us in a paper on Holmbury Hill
and its neighbourhood that he personally knew an old man, a native of
Coldharbour, who had actually seen the game going on. He was born, it is
true, in 1802, but he lived to be a hundred years old, and to talk to
Mr. Malden discreetly about what he had seen. In his conversation Mr.
Malden remarks with proper tranquillity "he indicated this and that
respectable neighbour. Well, he said, his grandfather, and _his_
grandfather and so on, knew something about the smuggling. He, of
course, had done nothing in that way, but he remembered his father
holding open the gate at the end of Crocker's Lane, Coldharbour, for a
body of men on horseback, each with a keg of brandy behind him, to ride
through. A man with whom he had worked told him how he was witness of a
scene when a bold gatekeeper refused to open his turnpike gate to a body
of armed men on horseback, who, after threatening him in vain, turned
aside across the fields." Relics of the past still remain in the
district. Under Holmbury Hill there is a cottage of which the cellars
run right back into the hill; tradition has placed kegs of brandy in
them. A naval cutlass was picked up some thirty years ago in a field by
Leith Hill--possibly it was used in a smugglers' fray with King George's
men. Nor was it long ago that a trackway which runs from Forest Green,
two miles to the west of Ockley, through Tanhurst over Leith Hill, was
known as the Smuggler's Way.
Surrey yeomen come nowhere of better stock than the oldest Ockley
families. Aubrey tells a story of one of the Eversheds of Ockley, who,
when the heralds made their visitation, was urged to take a coat of
arms. "He told them that he knew no difference between gentlemen and
yeomen, but that the latter were the better men, and that they were
really gentlemen only, who had longer preserved their estates and
patrimonies in the same place, without waste or dissipation; an
observation very just." Aubrey adds, as examples of yeomen families who
had land at the Conquest, the names of Steere, Harpe, Hether, and Aston.
Steere, like Evershed, is a name that occurs over and over again in the
Registers, both at Ockley and Capel.
Ockley's Parish Account Books, from which Mr. Alfred Bax--one of the
oldest of Ockley names--has made some most interesting transcripts in
the _Surrey Archaeological Collections_, furnish some quaint glimpses
into the life and customs of a Surrey village in old days. I make the
following extracts, of which the first is noticeable particularly as
evidence that a post office existed at Ockley at least as early as
1722:--
Dec y^e 29 day 1722. Then John ffanne And M^r John Pratts Clarke of
the post offis ffanne is a Vitler at the Cox, corner of Sherban Lane
Cox sid of the post house? boath bound In A bond of A hundred pound
for the parish of Ockley to pay one pound for the bewrall of William
Drew In case he dy In bed lam and Ly wise to pay the Surgant for
Cure of his sore Legs and Lychwise to tack Drew out when cured which
sayed Drew was put In by Henry Worsfold and Edward Bax overseers
this year 1722.
_Reliefs and Accidentall Charges 1718._
L. _s. d._
Thomas Rapley when his children had y^e measles and his
wives lying in 00 05 06
Thomas Rapley more by Vestry Order 02 06
Thomas Rapley relief at a Vestry 00 02 00
Paid for Laying forth Randall's Daughter 00 01 00
Paid for Bread and Cheese at Randal's daughter's Buriall 00 05 02
_Wood delivered to ye Poor, 1718._
Paid Richard Bax for Rapley Last year 00 04 00
1719.
M^r Smith for Lying Dead in his house 00 01 00
_Reliefs and Accidental Charges 1721._
8^ber 29^th Paid Tho. Rapley to buy Tire 00 06 00
7^ber ye 11 Drink to Henry Warren 00 01 00
Paid for a pair of Garters for Jn[=o] Hide 00 00 01-1/2
_Wood Delivered to ye Poore In ye yeare 1722._
Thomas Rapley tow hundred of fagot by Richard Bax of
brock, fagot 00 10 00
1723.
8^ber 30^th. To Rapley to buy a pair of Shoes 00 02 00
To Edw^d Bax to get rid of a Boy from Jn. Coles 00 12 00
1726.
7^ber ye 4. Paid for airing and Cleansing Tho. Worsfold after
the Small Pox 01 10 00
ffeb. 19. Relief to Tho. Worsfold after he had the small-pox
00 01 00
1727.
Allowed Tho. Amey toward ffatting his Hog 01 00 00
To Tho. Raply for Sparr timber and Mat^rs for ye almshouse 00 01 00
[July the 10^th]. The same Day Paid for a pair of Leading
Strings 00 00 06
7^ber ye 4^th. Allowed to Goodwife Cole to fface Jn[=o]. Songhursts
Girl's Boddice and to graft her Petty coate 00 01 06
December 26. Paid Thomas Simmonds and Rob^t Lisney for
killing a fox In y^e parish Customary 00 03 04
March 18. Paid for Bread and Cheese and Bran [funeral of
R^d Bashford] 00 05 06-1/2
Paid for 7 Galls. and 1/2 of Beer 00 07 06
1729.
Sep^r 1. Paid Francis Heathfield for Brandy Boundwalking 00 04 00
1731.
Paid Goody Rapley on account of ayring and cleansing her
Daughter of the Small Pox 00 14 00
1739.
Expenses carrying Sarah Rapley to Limpsfield 01 05 0-1/2
Paid for four Horses and a Side Saddle 00 13 00
Paid for a Warrant for Sarah Rapley 00 01 00
Paid for a Marriage Licence for D^o Rapley 01 08 00
Paid for her Wedding Ring 00 06 00
Paid Horsehire to Dorking for D^o Rapley 00 01 00
Paid Tho. Rapley's wife for nurseing Sarah Rapley's child
this month 8
1740.
Paid the Clark's Fee at Sarah Rapley's Marriage 00 02 06
Paid M^r Pearson for marrying Sarah Rapley and burying
Jno. Lipscomb y^e blind man 00 11 00
1745.
Expences having Henry Rapley to ye Sea when bitt by a
Mad Dog (Paid to Richard Rapley) 00 12 06
How many village families could show so long a written history as that
of the Rapleys, or so engaging a record? The entries of 1739 and 1740
are a perfect climax of hopes and fears, ending, it is impossible to
doubt, in the enjoyment by Sarah Rapley of every conceivable happiness.
But the joys hidden under the cold print of the last Rapley entry are
only dimly to be imagined. Henry Rapley's return from the sea, cured of
his dog-bite, must have brought out the whole village.
Two miles south-west of Ockley, a short way off the Stone street, stands
the lonely little chapel of Oakwood. It is one of the old forest
chapels, and dates back to the thirteenth century, but was enlarged in
the fifteenth, the happy result of an accident. Sir Edward de la Hale
was hunting wild boar with his son in the forest hard by. They had
wounded a boar, the boy was thrown from his horse, and the boar charged
down. His father spurred forward, too late to save him, when suddenly an
arrow whizzed through the trees and the boar fell dead. In his joy, the
father vowed on the spot an offering to the service of God, and Oakwood
chapel was restored and endowed. The little building lies apart,
sequestered in cornfields and deep woods, the quietest treasure of
sudden discovery for the stranger walking idly by country lanes.
Beyond the railway to the east of Ockley, approached by quiet oak-shaded
roads, lies the little village of Capel, not much more than a half-mile
of main street lined with cottages. Capel instils a pleasant
restfulness. Almost its chief buildings are the admirably designed
almshouses built in memory of Mr. Charles Webb of Clapham Common. In an
age when "improvements" generally mean the destruction of something old,
and "additions" to village housing accommodation mean yellow brick boxes
and slate lids, it is a pleasure to set eyes upon a modern building
instinct with the spirit of country places. Capel people have long had
proper views as to the right rate of progress through the business of
life. They are skilled, or some of them, in topiary, and when the garden
of a tiny, red-tiled cottage contains a shaven yew tree recognisable as
a fair-sized bird, the tenour of village life must be agreeably even.
Third of the three villages which group themselves south and south-west
of Leith Hill is Newdigate, separated from Capel by over two miles of a
zig-zagging road, though the distance for a steeplechase cannot be much
more than a mile from church to church. Newdigate church is the chief
part of the little village. The tower is wholly built of oak, and the
beams supporting the belfry are almost as fine as those of the Thursley
tower; possibly they are the work of the same craftsmen. Like other
Wealden churches, Newdigate has an abiding charm in her peal of bells.
They have been re-cast, but the Newdigate bellringers have long records
of changes rung in the little tower. Some of the records are painted on
wooden panels in the belfry. To the layman who has never rung a bell the
names of the changes are stimulating. Colledge Singles, Grandsire
Doubles, College Exercise, and College Pleasure are fairly simple; but
Without a Dodge provokes thought, and Woodbine Violet must have been
named by the village poet.
[Illustration: _Newdigate Church._]
Surrey autumns invest the shingled spires of these Wealden churches
with a peculiar beauty. Grey and white, black-streaked and shining,
weatherbeaten and weather-conquering, there is nothing in architecture
lighter or more graceful than the patterned sheaths of native oak
surmounting belfries which, sometimes for centuries, have called the
villagers to church. But in late autumn, when the swallows and martins
are practising starts for their long journey, the shingled spires turn
themselves to fresh uses. On a sunny day the birds come about them in
scores, pressing their bodies flat against the warm, dry wood, darting
out for short flights, hawking gnats and midges, and flitting back
again, keeping up through it all the sweetest and gentlest of anxious
twitterings, and, when they are clinging to the chequered wood,
resembling it so closely in colour and texture as to make it hard to
count a dozen birds quickly. Martins near their time for going enter on
all kinds of engaging habits, especially just before and just after
dusk, when bands of a dozen or so seem suddenly to make up their minds
to trial flights of the most amazing speed, utterly unlike their
ordinary, quiet flittings. But there is nothing prettier in all the
pageant of the migrants' year, than a dozen score martins with the
unrest of autumn on them darting round a shingled spire.