Highways and Byways in Sussex Part 16

Fuller, in the _Worthies_, gives them full s.p.a.ce indeed considering that none was interested in the Church. I cannot do better than quote him:--"SIR ANTHONY SHIRLEY, second Son to Sir _Thomas_, set forth from _Plimouth_, _May_ the 21st, 1596, in a Ship called the _Bevis of Southampton_, attended with six lesser vessels. His design for _Saint Thome_ was violently diverted by the contagion they found on the South Coast of Africa, where the rain did stink as it fell down from the heavens, and within six hours did turn into magots. This made him turn his course to _America_, where he took and kept the city of _St. Jago_ two days and nights, with two hundred and eighty men (whereof eighty were wounded in the service), against three thousand _Portugalls_.

"Hence he made for the Isle of _Fuego_, in the midst whereof a Mountaine, aetna-like, always burning; and the wind did drive such a shower of ashes upon them, that one might have wrote his name with his finger on the upper deck. However, in this fiery Island, they furnished themselves with good water, which they much wanted.

"Hence he sailed to the Island of _Margarita_, which to him did not answer its name, not finding here the _Perl Dredgers_ which he expected.

Nor was his gaine considerable in taking the Town of _Saint Martha_, the Isle and chief town of _Jamaica_, whence he sailed more than _thirty_ leagues up the river _Rio-dolci_, where he met with great extremity.

"At last, being diseased in person, distressed for victuals, and deserted by all his other ships, he made by _New-found-land_ to _England_, where he arrived June 15, 1597. Now although some behold his voyage, begun with more courage then counsel, carried on with more valour then advice, and coming off with more honour than profit to himself or the nation (the Spaniard being rather frighted then harmed, rather braved then frighted therewith); yet unpartial judgments, who measure not worth by success, justly allow it a prime place amongst the probable (though not prosperous) English Adventures.

[Sidenote: SIR ROBERT SHIRLEY]

"SIR ROBERT SHIRLEY, youngest Son to Sir _Thomas_, was, by his Brother _Anthony_, entred in the _Persian_ Court. Here he performed great Service against the _Turkes_, and shewed the difference betwixt _Persian_ and _English_ Valour; the latter having therein as much Courage, and more Mercy, giving Quarter to Captives who craved it, and performing Life to those to whom he promised it. These his Actions drew the Envie of the _Persian_ Lords, and Love of the Ladies, amongst whom one (reputed a Kins-man to the great _Sophy_) after some Opposition, was married unto him. She had more of _Ebony_ than _Ivory_ in her Complexion; yet amiable enough, and very valiant, a quality considerable in that s.e.x in those Countries. With her he came over to _England_, and lived many years therein. He much affected to appear in _forreign Vestes_; and, as if his _Clothes_ were his limbs, accounted himself never ready till he had something of the Persian Habit about him.

"At last a Contest happening betwixt him and the Persian Amba.s.sadour (to whom some reported Sir Robert gave a Box on the Ear) the King sent them both into _Persia_, there mutually to impeach one another, and joyned Doctor _Gough_ (a Senior Fellow of _Trinity colledge_ in _Cambridge_) in commission with Sir Robert. In this Voyage (as I am informed) both died on the Seas, before the controverted difference was ever heard in the Court of _Persia_, about the beginning of the Reign of King _Charles_.

[Sidenote: SIR THOMAS SHIRLEY]

"Sir THOMAS SHIRLEY, I name him the last (though the eldest Son of his Father) because last appearing in the world, men's _Activity_ not always observing the method of their _Register_. As the Trophies of _Miltiades_ would not suffer _Themistocles_ to sleep; so the Atchievements of his two younger brethren gave an Alarum unto his spirit. He was ashamed to see them worne like Flowers 'in the _b.r.e.a.s.t.s_ and _Bosomes_ of forreign Princes, whilst he himself withered upon the stalk he grew on'. This made him leave his aged Father and fair Inheritance in this _County_, and to undertake _Sea Voyages_ into forreign parts, to the great _honour_ of his _Nation_, but small _inriching_ of _himself_; so that he might say to his Son, as _aeneas_ to _aescanius_:--

'Disce, puer, Virtutem ex me verumque Laborem, Fortunam ex aliis.'

'Virtue and Labour learn from me thy Father, As for Success, Child, learn from others rather.'

"As to the generall performance of these _three brethren_, I know the _Affidavit_ of a Poet carrieth but a small credit in the _court of History_; and the _Comedy_ made of them is but a _friendly foe_ to their Memory, as suspected more accomodated to please the present spectators, then inform posterity. However, as the belief of Mitio (when an _Inventory_ of his adopted _Sons misdemeanours_ was brought unto him) embraced a middle and moderate way, _nec omnia credere nec nihil_, neither to _believe all things nor nothing_ of what was told him: so in the _list of their Atchievements_ we may safely pitch on the same proportion, and, when abatement is made for _poeticall embelishments_, the remainder will speak them Worthies in their generations."--Such were the three Shirleys.

Wiston church, which shelters under the eastern wall of the house, almost leaning against it, has some interesting tombs.

[Sidenote: BIOHCHANDOUNE]

Walking west from Wiston we come to the tiny hamlet of Buncton, one of the oldest settlements in Suss.e.x, a happy hunting ground for excavators in search of Roman remains, and possessing in Buncton chapel a quaint little Norman edifice. The word Buncton is a sign of modern carelessness for beautiful words: the original Saxon form was "Biohchandoune," which is charming.

Buncton belongs to Ashington, two miles to the north-west on the Worthing road, a quiet village with a fifteenth-century church (a mere child compared with Buncton Chapel) and a famous loss. The loss is tragic, being no less than that of the parish register containing a full and complete account, by Ashington's best scribe, of a visit of Good Queen Bess to the village in 1591. A destroyed church may be built again, but who shall restore the parish register? The book, however, is perhaps still in existence, for it was deliberately stolen, early in the eighteenth century, by a thief who laid his plans as carefully as did Colonel Blood in his attack on the regalia, abstracting the volume from a cupboard in the rectory, through a hole which he made in the outside wall. No interest in the progress of Queen Elizabeth prompted him: the register was taken during the hearing of a law suit in order that its d.a.m.ning evidence might not be forthcoming.

[Sidenote: WILLIAM PENN IN SUSs.e.x]

While at Ashington we ought to see Warminghurst, only a mile distant, once the abode of the Sh.e.l.leys, and later of William Penn, who bought the great house in 1676. One of his infant children is buried at Coolham, close by, where he attended the Quakers' meeting and where services are still held. The meeting-house was built of timber from one of Penn's ships.

A later owner than Penn, James Butler, rebuilt Warminghurst and converted a large portion of the estate into a deer park; but it was thrown back into farm land by one of the Dukes of Norfolk, while the house was destroyed, the deer exiled, and the lake drained. Perhaps it was time that the house came down, for in the interim it had been haunted; the ghost being that of the owner of the property, who one day, although far distant, was seen at Warminghurst by two persons and afterwards was found to have died at the time of his appearance.

Warminghurst in those days of park and deer, lake and timber (it had a chestnut two hundred and seventy years old), might well be the first spot to which an enfranchised spirit winged its way.

From Warminghurst is a road due south, over high sandy heaths, to Washington, which, una.s.suming as it is, may be called the capital of a large district of West Suss.e.x that is unprovided with a railway.

Steyning, five miles to the east, Amberley, seven miles to the west, and West Worthing, eight miles to the south, on the other side of the Downs, are the nearest stations. In the midst of this thinly populated area stands Washington, at the foot of the mountain pa.s.s that leads to Findon, Worthing and the sea. It was once a Saxon settlement (Wasa inga tun, town of the sons of Wasa); it is now derelict, memorable only as a baiting place for man and beast. But there are few better spots in the country for a modest contented man to live and keep a horse. Rents are low, turfed hills are near, and there is good hunting.

[Sidenote: A COSTLY QUART]

The church, which was restored about fifty years ago, but retains its Tudor tower, stands above the village. In 1866 three thousand pennies of the reign of Edward the Confessor and Harold were turned up by a plough in this parish, and, says Mr. Lower, were held so cheaply by their finders that half a pint measure of them was offered at the inn by one man in exchange for a quart of beer. Possibly Mr. Hilaire Belloc would not think the price excessive, for I find him writing, in a "Suss.e.x Drinking Song":

They sell good beer at Haslemere And under Guildford Hill; At little Cowfold, as I've been told, A beggar may drink his fill.

There is a good brew in Amberley too, And by the Bridge also; But the swipes they take in at the Washington Inn Is the very best beer I know.

The white road to Worthing from Washington first climbs the hills and then descends steadily to the sea. The first village is Findon, three miles distant, but one pa.s.ses on the way two large houses, Highden and Muntham. Muntham, which was originally a shooting box of Viscount Montagu, lord of Cowdray, was rebuilt in the nineteenth century by an eccentric traveller in the East, named Frankland, a descendant of Oliver Cromwell, who, settling at home again, gave up his time to collecting mechanical appliances.

Findon is a pleasant little village at the bottom of the valley, the home of the princ.i.p.al Suss.e.x training stable, which has its galloping course under Cissbury. Training stables may be found in many parts of the Downs, but the Suss.e.x turf has not played the same part in the making of race horses as that of Hampshire and Berkshire.

Lady Butler painted the background of her picture of Balaclava at Findon, the neighbourhood of which curiously resembles in configuration the Russian battlefield.

[Sidenote: A FINISHED PLURALIST]

The rector of Findon in 1276, Galfridus de Aspall, seems to have brought the art of pluralising to a finer point than most. In addition to being rector of Findon, he had, Mr. Lower tells us, a benefice in London, two in the diocese of Lincoln, one in Rochester, one in Hereford, one in Coventry, one in Salisbury, and seven in Norwich. He was also Canon of St. Paul's and Master of St. Leonard's Hospital at York.

Above Findon on the south-east rises Cissbury, one of the finest of the South Downs, but, by reason of its inland position, less noticeable than the hills on the line. There have been many conjectures as to its history. The Romans may have used it for military purposes, as certainly they did for the pacific cultivation of the grape, distinct terraces as of a vineyard being still visible; traces of a factory of flint arrow heads have been found (giving it the ugly name of the "Flint Sheffield"); while Cissa, lord of Chichester, may have had a bury or fort there. Mr. Lower's theory is that the earthworks on the summit, whatever their later function, were originally religious, and probably druidical.

Salvington (a little village which is gained by leaving the main road two miles beyond Cissbury and bearing to the west) is distinguished as the birthplace, in 1584, of one who was considered by Hugo Grotius to be the glory of the English nation--John Selden. Nowadays, when we choose our glories among other cla.s.ses of men than jurists and wits, it is more than possible for even cultured persons who are interested in books to go through life very happily without knowledge at all of this great man, the friend of great men and the writer best endowed with common sense of any of his day. From Selden's _Table Talk_ I take a few pa.s.sages on the homelier side, to be read at Salvington:--

[Sidenote: JOHN SELDEN'S WISDOM]

FRIENDS.

Old Friends are best. King James used to call for his old Shoes; they were easiest for his Feet.

CONSCIENCE.

Some men make it a Case of Conscience, whether a Man may have a Pigeon-house, because his Pigeons eat other Folks' Corn. But there is no such thing as Conscience in the Business; the Matter is, whether he be a Man of such Quality, that the State allows him to have a Dove-house; if so, there's an end of the business; his Pigeons have a right to eat where they please themselves.

CHARITY.

Charity to Strangers is enjoin'd in the Text. By Strangers is there understood those that are not of our own Kin, Strangers to your Blood; not those you cannot tell whence they come; that is, be charitable to your Neighbours whom you know to be honest poor People.

CEREMONY.

Ceremony keeps up all things: 'Tis like a Penny-Gla.s.s to a rich Spirit, or some excellent Water; without it the Water were spilt, the Spirit lost.

Of all people Ladies have no reason to cry down Ceremony, for they take themselves slighted without it. And were they not used with Ceremony, with Compliments and Addresses, with Legs and Kissing of Hands, they were the pitifullest Creatures in the World. But yet methinks to kiss their Hands after their Lips, as some do, is like little Boys, that after they eat the apple, fall to the Paring, out of a Love they have to the Apple.

RELIGION.

Religion is like the Fashion: one Man wears his Doublet slashed, another laced, another plain; but every Man has a Doublet. So every man has his Religion. We differ about Tr.i.m.m.i.n.g.

Alteration of Religion is dangerous, because we know not where it will stay: 'tis like a _Millstone_ that lies upon the top of a pair of Stairs; 'tis hard to remove it, but if once it be thrust off the first Stair, it never stays till it comes to the bottom.

We look after Religion as the Butcher did after his Knife, when he had it in his Mouth.