The County Books Series: Sussex, by Esther MeynellI would not dare to call myself an archaeologist: I am but a beginner, an amateur - which means a lover - of the subject.Whilst the immediate subject is archaeology, it's clear that Esther was a lover of Sussex, and this is generally a delightful book to read. Time has of course moved on; the Piltdown Man has long been understood as a hoax, yet here it is presented as fact, and our understanding of history has changed in so many other areas.
It's interesting however to read the words Esther has to say on Sussex windmills:
The visible relics of the old life on the land in Sussex are all beautiful. The old farmhouse and cottages, the tithe barns, the massive brick-built dovecots, the windmills - so many of which have vanished away and so few of which are any longer in use - the watermills, one or two of which still grind flour and as watermills are much older than windmills, so it is good that they have held out longer against disuse and decay.
Cobbett, when he rode about Sussex would see an abundance of windmills - so naturally at home on the breezy chalk hills and on the rising ground and little eminences that diversify the Weald. Most of these windmills have now tumbled down from disuse and neglect, or succumbed to their natural enemy, fire. But, happily the most famous, because the most prominent, pair of windmills in Sussex still survive to adorn the scene - they are known throughout the county as Jack and Jill, most appropriately as they've certainly gone up the hill, though the pails of water have to be fetched to those who dwell in them. These two mills are so admirably sited on the crest of the Down as to be almost as important in the landscape as the ring on Chanctonbury's head. It is long since they did any work, and for a time they were in peril of the fate of many other Sussex windmills, but they are now in good hands and have become the twin guardians of what must be the most breezy and elevated dwelling in the country, set in untouched Downland and commanding amazing views from the topmost storey of Jack, the black tower-mill. The variety of shape in the two mills which stand so friendlily together adds to their enchantment - there is a touch of fairy-tale about them, as though they had walked there from some mysterious region for the love of Sussex. Jack is a black tower-mill and Jill is a white post-mill. Adjoining the tower-mill Jack is the round house, all that remains of the little tower-mill, found too small to draw full benefit from the powerful winds, which Jack was built to replace. This round-house is all that remains of one of the oldest mills in Sussex, and is supposed to be something like 300 years old.Note: The roundhouse alongside Jack is from Duncton Gate post mill, not a tower mill. This may just be a simple editing error, rather than any deeper misunderstanding of the nature of this "round house".
An interesting bit of Jill's history is that she is that rare thing, a travelled windmill. She was built on the Dyke Hill above Brighton in 1821, and was later moved all the distance across the downs to the elevated site above the retired little village of Clayton, where she now spends an honoured old age. This removal was accomplished by an immense team of oxen, and must have been a notable sight.
In Sussex Notes and Queries for 1886, there is an account of the moving of another mill : "In 1797 a miller at Brighton, in the presence of many thousand spectators, removed his windmill whole, and literally as he worked her, with the help of 36 yoke of oxen and a number of men, across the plains to a brow near Withdean, a distance of more than a mile, where he fixed her without the smallest accident. The above mill stood to the westward of Brighton, very near the edge of the cliff, and had long being complained of as a nuisance which caused the removal. The neighbouring farmers accommodated him with their oxen for the purpose, gratis."
Not very far away from Jack and Jill above the village of Clayton, on that sudden eminence called Lodge Hill, which runs down to Ditchling, is another white post-mill, that has had its sails restored and has become a protected object. One cannot but feel that these poor pensioned mills of an age which has no use for the true stone-miller's art and mystery, would so much prefer to be doing their proper job. They were not made as objects to adorn the landscape, but to produce the whole-wheat flour to make man's bread. The beautiful natural sequence of the growing corn to the cottage loaf, in which the mill played an essential part, is broken.
One of the post-mills that is still working - though not to grind flour - is at Cross-in-Hand. And almost in the very centre of Sussex, on high and breezy Chailey North Common, is one of the prettiest and most shapely white smock mills in the whole county. Beside it stands a large pointed clipped yew tree, which looks as though it had come from a gigantic Noah's ark - indeed, both the white mill and the everlasting green tree have the look of enchanting outsize toys. The mill is, happily and suitably, in the hands of the Chailey Heritage Craft Schools, which are doing such marvellous work for crippled children.
From this well-cared-for mill it is a long stretch to the derelict old Saint Leonard's mill at Winchelsea. When I last saw this mill it had the most completely haunted air. It was evident that the saint, who used to keep watch over Winchelsea, had long forgotten his poor mill. But old though the mill is (it was built about 1760) that is a date long past the great days of Winchelsea. But it is very old for a wooden post-mill, and makes it definitely an historic relic, so it is good to know that this ancient Mill has now been restored to life.
A certain number of windmills in Sussex have been saved from complete extinction, even if sometimes considerably altered in appearance, by being made into dwelling houses. There is one hidden away up Pipes Passage in Lewes, and another at West Chiltington, which is a black smock-mill, still retaining its shutterless sweeps and fantail, both of which are painted white, so that it keeps much of the appearance of a working windmill. There is something very fascinating about a windmill house, and always great views from the top story.
But the vital working windmill is a sadly diminishing object in the Sussex countryside. The Reverend Peter Hemming in his valuable book on Windmills in Sussex has made a list (which he does not claim is complete, but is eloquent enough of windmill history to-day) of active, disused and completely vanish Mills in the county. Of post-mills there are two in use, sixteen disused, and forty-seven vanished away. Of smock-mills, in the same order, there are two, twelve and nineteen. Of tower-mills, There are two, nine and five.
It is a sad tale for the windmill, like the watermill which is historically so much older, is associated with one of the fundamental needs of mankind. And it is the one building raised by human hands and rooted in the ground which yet seems endowed with some vital life of its own. There was a recognition of this, as well as the old religious feeling which linked the fruitful earth with the God "from all from whom all blessings flow," in what was called "the miller's pride" - when at the end of the day's good work, the four sails were placed in the shape of the Cross.
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