No tender-hearted garden crowns,
No bosomed woods adorn
Our blunt, bow headed, whale backed downs
But gnarled and writhen thorns
Most readers will instantly recognise these lines from the poem Sussex by Rudyard Kipling. Few poems capture the spirit and the beauty of the Downs which he had come to love at the turn of the 20th Century. It was written in the summer of 1902, just a couple of months before he and his family moved from Rottingdean, where they had been living for the past five years, to Bateman’s near the East Sussex village of Burwash, where they would live out the rest of their lives. They had moved to Rottingdean in 1897 at a time when he was one of the most popular and admired writers in the country, having captured the public’s imagination with his tales and poems of India which had earned him the soubriquet ‘The Laureate of the Empire’.
Overall, the Kiplings’ stay in Rottingdean appears to have been a happy period in their lives, although clouded by the death of their eldest child, Josephine, who had died of pneumonia at the age of just six years old whilst they were on a visit to America in 1899. Looking back at their time in the village, writing in his autobiography Something of Myself, Kipling recalled, ‘I do not remember any violent alarms and excursions other than packing farm-carts filled with mixed babies […] and despatching them into the safe clean heart of the motherly Downs for jam-smeared picnics, […] Those were exceedingly good days, and one’s work came easily and fully.’
However, the Downs that Kipling eulogised in his poem were in a state of crisis. From the 1870s onwards, Britain had experienced a prolonged agricultural depression, brought about by cheap imports of wheat, meat and wool from abroad. Land prices had plummeted and by the beginning of the 20th Century much of the downland lay derelict. However, where many saw crisis others would see opportunities. In 1915, a property developer called Charles Neville bought up land on top of the cliffs west of Newhaven, and after the war, divided the area up into plots of land for people to build their own houses on. With virtually no planning restrictions, the new ‘town’, which was given the name ‘Peacehaven’, was described as ‘a rash of bungalows, houses, shops, shacks, chicken runs, huts and dog kennels’.
The despoilation of the Downs at Peacehaven was, of course, the spur that led to the foundation of the Society of Sussex Downsmen (as it was then known) in 1923. Its first chairman was the journalist and newspaper proprietor, Arthur Beckett. At the Society’s inaugural meeting in January 1924, Beckett proposed that, ‘Mr Rudyard Kipling be asked to be President, or failing that, Patron of the Society.’ Kipling was a notoriously private person, and nothing appears to have come from Beckett’s proposal.
However, whilst he may have shunned the idea of an honorary post in the Society, Kipling obviously felt deeply about saving the Downs from development. In 1926, the Crowlink Estate, which comprised 480 acres of land along the top of the Seven Sisters cliffs between Seaford and Eastbourne, was bought by a building syndicate for £9,750. In an effort to prevent development taking place, the Society approached the syndicate to buy the land to protect it. The syndicate offered to sell the land for £16,450 so a national appeal was launched to raise the money. As part of the appeal, a leaflet, entitled, ‘The Beauty of England must mean something to you!’ was printed to publicise the campaign. The leaflet describes the beauty of the Downs and states: It might have been this very beauty that inspired Mr. Rudyard Kipling when he wrote the fourth stanza of his Sussex:
Clean of officious fence or hedge,
Half-wild and wholly tame,
The wise turf cloaks the white cliff-edge
As when the Romans came.
What sign of those that fought and died
At shift of sword and sword?
The barrow and the camp abide,
The sunlight and the sward.
It is just this ‘wise turf’ and this ‘white cliff edge’ of Crowlink that have been threatened with defacement in our commercial age.
These lines could only have been printed with Kipling’s permission, and by allowing his lines to be quoted he would have added much weight to the appeal. The appeal caught the public’s imagination and the necessary funds were swiftly raised whereupon the Seven Sisters ultimately passed into the guardianship of the National Trust. In addition to Kipling lending his name to the appeal, Arthur Beckett writing in an article for The Sussex County Magazine shortly after Kipling’s death in 1936, tells us, ‘When I asked him if he would subscribe to the purchase fund initiated by the Society of Sussex Downsmen to save the Crowlink Valley […] he sent a cheque for a substantial sum.’ Kipling’s involvement in the appeal clearly demonstrates his concern over development that was taking place in an area of countryside that he had come to love.
Although the Seven Sisters had been saved, insensitive development would take place on the cliff tops to the east of Rottingdean. In his autobiography, whilst remembering the happy times at Rottingdean, Kipling regretfully observed, ‘Today, from Rottingdean to Newhaven is almost fully developed suburbs, of great horror.’
It is evident that Kipling loved the Downs and was happy to do what he could to protect them, whilst his evocative poem Sussex would go on to inspire others to go out and do the same. His role in the campaign to save the Seven Sisters undoubtedly contributed towards the success of the appeal and in many ways, he was in the vanguard of what today we would call the conservation movement.
Richard Howell
Richard Howell is a Council member of the Kipling Society. He lives in Sussex, and has recently completed an M.A. thesis on the history of the Bateman’s Estate.
