In the footsteps of Joe Pullen

Josiah Pullen liked to walk. Believing the exercise helped him stay ‘vigorous and healthy’, he made the same journey every day for 57 years. Sometimes both in the morning and evening. Striding briskly from the rooms he kept when he was appointed as Vice President of Magdalen Hall in 1657 (not to be confused with Magdalen College, though at that time situated next door) he’d set out east to reach the top of Headington Hill. Then after 20 odd years of these regular perambulations, at the point at which he liked to turn to look back at the city before making the return trip, he decided to plant an elm tree. Which by the time of his death in 1714 at the ripe old age of 84, had grown tall, and the shelter under its huge canopy of branches a popular meeting place. Later, known simply as Joe Pullen’s tree, it was chosen to mark the boundary of the Parliamentary borough, becoming a famous local landmark that inspired painters and poets alike.

And so, on a day of early spring sunshine last week I decide to embark on that same excursion so dear to Pullen. While his tree has long gone, the place where it once grew is marked with a plaque and its memory lives on in many of the street and house names in the area, Pullen’s Lane, Pullen’s Gate, and the like. And the raised footpath by which pedestrians still make their way up Headington Hill safe from the traffic that roars alongside, was his brainchild. A Pullen Pilgrimage seemed just the thing.

I start as Pullen would have done on the north side of Oxford’s busy High Street under the shadow of Magdalen Tower. Though his rooms and the rest of the buildings at Magdalen Hall were destroyed by fire when an errant student in 1821 turned in for the night leaving his candle still burning, (the hall was afterwards amalgamated into Hertford College in Catte Street) the country’s first Physic Garden, now Oxford Botanic Garden, still stands. As it did then behind the grand Danby Gate opposite. Over Magdalen Bridge, a narrower version in his day and the main thoroughfare across the river Cherwell to and from London for horse drawn coaches and carriages, still serving the same function for the Oxford Tube’s return route to the capital. 

Skirting the roundabout at The Plain, there are few hints as to what this area must have looked like to Pullen. His early walks followed the devasting effects of the English Civil War. With the Roundheads encamped at the top of the hill, and the Royalists in the city, St Clements formed the front line, taking the brunt of the fortifications and defences thrown up by both sides. By the time it was all over the wooded slopes were bare and the only buildings left standing were the 17^th century coaching inn The Black Horse (still with us) and the Church of St Clements, demolished in 1829 and then rebuilt on the Marston Road. The Plain is so named after the space that was left after its removal. All that remains of the religious occupant are two gateposts marking the entrance to the graveyard standing sadly on the north side of the roundabout. On the south side is a skeletal white bicycle or ghost bike, a sad reminder of a fatal accident here, a more modern memorial than the ones that went before.

The settlement around the church and the bridge, must have always attracted a lively eclectic mix of through traffic in what was in the 17^th century essentially a rural area east of the city. It still serves a large transient crowd, shops and restaurants defining themselves by which bus stop is located nearby. There are five pubs pulling pints within the space of 100 yards, including a newly refurbished Oranges and Lemons, plus the 18^thcentury Coach and Horses now a boutique hotel. The places I remember from my youth, the window of The Oxford Model Centre filled with a the huge model airplane and the shelves of sweet-filled jars lining the shop I bought aniseed balls from for the bus ride home are no longer. But Marcus Roberts Pianos is holding up, and the old shopfronts have been replaced by a buoyant choice of world cuisine from fish and chips to falafels, goat curries to giros. I stop to try a freshly cooked Malaysian steam bun from Rachel’s, tempted in by the brightly coloured exterior and charmed by its inside display of Lego figures. I’m glad to report it was delicious.

And then onwards. On the right the same alms-houses that Pullen must have seen go up in 1700 as ‘The Hospital for the poor and the sick’, built out of local stone quarried in Headington and carried down the hill by horse and cart. On the left the unassuming exterior of the country’s top performing sixth form college, gives way to the lovely coloured housefronts of London Place and at last to the start of Pullen’s raised walkway. Constructed with money from subscription, and prompting the joke that he had ‘made a-way with public money’. The occasional storm or treefall might necessitate repair but at 300 years old it would be hard to argue it wasn’t worth every penny.

And now as he would have strolled past open countryside, I am surrounded on both sides by parkland (Headington Hill Park and South Park) at the time of writing filled with orange, purple and white crocuses. Halfway up, the metal footbridge which hangs above the main street and connects both sides of the hill marks roughly the spot where the road once veered off right at Cheney Lane, taking travellers over Shotover towards London. It was another 50 years after Pullen’s death before the London Road was built. I take a quick detour this way to experience the uninterrupted views over the city from the top of South Park, the same vista he would have seen from further up before trees and buildings obscured the place where he turned. High above the clatter and claustrophobia of the city.

Hastening back to the main road I make for Pullen’s Lane perched on the crown of the hill amid the endless creeping sprawl of Brookes University. The plaque I am looking for is not far down, on the corner of Cuckoo Lane, an ancient footpath leading to old Headington village. Its inscription is hard to read and in danger of encroaching ivy, but I can just make out the words.  “Near this spot stood the famous elm planted by the Rev. Josiah Pullen about 1680 and known as Joe Pullen’s Tree. Destroyed by fire on 13 October 1909.” Once saved from felling after public protest in 1847, by the end of the century rot had reduced it to a stump. This was what was doused in petrol and set alight by vandals. A sad and sorry end to Pullen’s lofty elm. And, it seems, to his notoriety.

I take a different route back into town.  A steep path down through the woods on the old Roman Way, the first stretch busy with students, the second alive with birdsong, crossing over Marston Road towards King’s Mill, by which Pullen could have snuck into Magdalen Hall around the back. And head to the old Church of St Peter in the East (now St Edmund Hall library). It is here, where he had served as the incumbent vicar, that he is supposed to be buried, and I wanted to pay my respects.  But despite the help of the friendly archivist, we could find no trace of a memorial. At Hertford College, who now claim ownership of all things Magdalen Hall, they remember him as a fastidious bookkeeper, and for instigating a strict code of conduct in the library. There’s a portrait of him hanging in the Old Hall there. He looks a kind but unassuming, serious man. This may account for why a group of post-war Hertford College students decided to name a society after him, though they spelled his name wrong. ‘The Pullin Society’ dedicated itself to the ordinary, to the unostentatious and undistinguished. Any hint of the unconventional wouldn’t do at all. Which seems to me an unfair evaluation of Josiah Pullen.

So I’d like to suggest a rebrand. This was a man who loved the outdoors, who planted great trees. An early pioneer of the benefits of walking 10,000 steps a day, as often as he could in the company of friends. Great for your mental health.

So here’s a proposition. An alternative to the Park Run. A brisk walk up and down Headington Hill starting at Magdalen Bridge. In half an hour as he did. We could call it the Pullen Promenade in his honour. I think it has a certain ring about it.

Main picture: Joe Pullen’s Tree by William Delamotte 1821 (Oxfordshire History Centre POXO107339)

Magdalen Hall once stood where St Swithun’s Quad, Magdalen College is now (above.) The start of my walk.

The gateposts to the old St Clement’s Church graveyard, now The Plain. You can just see the ghost bike behind.

The Old Church of St Clements in 1828 before it was moved.

The Old Black Horse Coaching Inn still survives from the 17th century

The newly refurbished Oranges and Lemons (once the Angel and Greyhound)

The Hospital for ye Poor and Sick founded by Rev. William Stone in 1700

London Place at the foot of Headington Hill

The raised walkway (above painted by JMW Turner in 1803) made it much safer to walk this way up the hill.

The raised walkway as it is today with the bridge spanning the two sides half way up.

View from the top of South Park

Pullen’s Lane

The plaque marking the spot where Joe Pullen’s tree once grew at the junction of Cuckoo Lane.

Cuckoo Lane West – the old Roman Way leading away from the site of Pullen’s tree and down to Marston Road

One of the four 17th century mileway and highway stones in Oxford at the bottom of the lane as you reach Marston Road.

King’s Mill, opposite the back entrance to Magdalen College.

This portrait of Josiah Pullen looks down from the walls of the Old Hall in Hertford College.

More about Joe Pullen’s tree can be found here.