friend was known. With commendable generosity the toll-man gave us the privilege of lying down on his bed until the arrival of the Royal Blue (stage) Van on its down journey next morning, whilst he himself put up with the discomfort of dozing in this old arm chair. That we were sufficiently weary after our fifty miles walk to need the rest which my jaded companions so much coveted admits of little doubt; but whether it was my disappointment at being prevented reaching home that night as I had intended, or whether it was the recollection of the assault and attempted robbery only a few months before at a toll-house nearer home that disinclined me to fall into the arms of Morpheus I am hardly prepared to say, but I still retain the impression that my slumber was not so profound as it might have been, and that my heart was not beating with so much thankfulness as it ought to have done at the proffered and accepted hospitality. To go back to the would-be robbers at the Tivoli Gate,[a] I am not sufficiently assured either by memory or memorandum as to whether they were ever detected and convicted; but a man named Wood was almost immediately taken on suspicion of being one of them, and after magisterial examination he was committed for trial at Lewes.
There had been more than one offence of that sort during the year, and among the victims was Mr. Catley, the Borough Surveyor. His residence, Montpelier House, on the old London road, was broken into a second time, and a cash-box, with from fifteen to twenty pounds was carried off. This old gentleman was very much depressed at this second burglarious visitation, and to add to his depondency, (sic) about a fortnight later news was received of the death of his son in the city of York. Mr. Catley, jun., was 35 years of age, and was so much respected that more than a hundred citizens followed his remains to the grave.
Among the accidents to life and limb during 1839 were one of a serious, and another of a fatal, character, both of which occurred on the same. day. The first applied to a valuable horse belonging to Mr. Robert Deudney. While at work in a field the unfortunate animal overturned a harrow which it was drawing, and at the same time fell upon the spikes, which caused its death. On the same afternoon, a Mr. Brett was at work at a saw-pit in the Norman road, when several heavy pieces of timber rolled over upon him, by which he sustained very severe injuries, not the least of which was the fracturing of both legs. It occurred on the 6th of March, and has been quaintly described in the Anniversary notices of the GAZETTE as follows :-
"In Eighteen-thirty-nine one Sawyer Brett
Broke both his legs in timber-yard of Kaye's,
And other injuries thereat did get,
Which threatened there and then to end his days.
Surviving that, he running feats could do,
And as I write his age is ninety-two."
Yes, until within the last year or two, this venerable member of the "light weights," was noted for his agility, notwithstanding that his frame was so terribly shattered by the accident which befel (sic) him in 1839. He was remarkably fond of hunting, and for many years it was his practice to follow the hounds on foot, whilst he failed but rarely to be one of the first in at the death.It is said, "Where there's a will there's a way," and it is probably that this theory was well exemplified in the case of the plucky man to whom I have alluded. Perhaps I am as competent as anyone to give an opinion on this matter, feeling as I do, well assured that but for the strength of will and tenacity of purpose my own "physical force" per se would have many times failed me in the accomplishment of that on which I had set my mind. I have shown the disappointment which I experienced at being prevented completing the journey from London to Hastings without a break, feeling, as I did, that but for the restraint put upon me by the inability of my friend, there would have been no failure of the task thus undertaken. Chafing under this bar to my pedestrian feat, I resolved on the first opportunity to make the trial by myself. This opportunity was afforded me in the following year, when I traveled over the 64 miles of ground in 19 hours, which at that time was what I always regarded as my working day. It will be seen that this was a rather slow pace, but I must state that although averaging but 3 1/2 miles per hour, it included restings for refreshments, whilst the weight with which I was handicapped may be judged of when I say that in addition to my ordinary apparel, I carried a pea-jacket a camlet cloak, an umbrella, a violin, and a good-sized bag of merchandise. The journey was satisfactorily accomplished from London to Hastings between the hours of 4 in the morning and 11 at night. As there was no one with me to attest this feat of walking, it was usually assumed that I was "drawing the long bow" whenever I related it. But if a walk of that extent and under such conditions was somewhat of a rarity in those days, the more recent feats of Weston and other professional pedestrians dwarf it completely into insignificance. What I wish to prove is that man is capable of greater endurance than is generally supposed even by those who have made his physical structure a life study; as, witness the swim across the Channel by Captain Webb, contrary to the opinion expressed by the medical faculty. But many of the seeming impossibilities would never become realities without the confidence derived from the power of will; and it is the work of this will-power, prudently directed, which enters into association with the accidental or incidental allusions to mere personal matters while giving these sketches of local history. Perhaps, I ought to say, however, with Jean Jaques Rousseau, "As I decline into old age, I feel the recollections of childhood (early life) revive, and imprint themselves on my heart with a force and charm that every day acquire fresh strength, as if feeling life fleeing from me, I endeavoured to catch it again by its commencement." But what is perhaps more to the purpose as an excuse for these occasional personal interpolations if the fact that some of my oldest acquaintances have frequently asked me for an autobiography, believing, as they are pleased to aver, that a detailed account of my life would be useful to many young people of the present day who murmur at their position and think that no ever had so few opportunities for recreation as themselves. As it will be out of my power to comply with the request of friends in the specific form indicated by them, it may satisfy them to some extent if I continue to intersperse this history with personal experiences in connection therewith.
I have said that much is due to the exercise of will-power, and I would have my readers distinguish this from mere self-will or fixed obstinacy; for in reality, there is a wide difference between the two attributes. The man or the boy who possesses the former will often be the first to set upon the idea or advice of others when once convinced of the advantages of such a course, whilst the posessor (sic) of mere headstrong passions will at all times follow his own bent even to the extent of injury to himself or brutality to others. The latter may be an educated man and a warm politician, but he will put forward his own ideas or those of his party as infallible, and will on no account allow them to be modified by the opinions or statements of others. But I must cease moralising. It is my intention at this place to show the physical conditions under which the journey from London to Hastings was performed were the reverse of favourable, and that but for the mental resolve emanating from the consciousness of voluntary force, the attempt must have failed. I had had the misfortune, some years before, to displace both knee-caps, one of which accidents nearly cost me my life; and at the time when the journey was undertaken I was still suffering to some extent from injuries received in a storm-tossed emigrant-ship. Yet I experienced no after discomfort from the walk of 64 miles, loaded though I was to the extent described.
And now, that I may not arrogate to myself the sole possession of will-power for the accomplishment of these long-journey performances on the "marrow-bone stage," it behoves me to narrate a venture of that sort in company with Mr. Edward Godden, who, until a few years ago, was still alive to attest the fact. It was on the 24th of November, 1839, that I set out with my friend from Hastings on a walking journey to Chiddingly, a distance of about 23 miles, for the purpose of attending the funeral of an uncle whose death had taken place on the 18th of that month. The deceased was a man greatly respected, not only by his family and neighbors, but also by a large circle of friends in Lewes, Brighton, and other places at a distance. His remains were, consequently, followed to the grave by a numerous train of mourners, including the two young men from Hastings. He who had thus passed over to the silent majority amidst a concourse of sorrowing friends had been a man of many parts. He was a shoemaker, parish-clerk, drover, occupier of a small farm, musician and bandmaster. He was a performer on the clarionette (sic), flute and bassoon; and upon his conductorship and arrangements of harmony were dependent the bands of Chiddingly, Hellingly and East-hoathly. This last circumstance has for me a personal interest, because it was with some of these bandsmen that I played as a supernumary (sic) at a hotly contested election in which an ex-Representative of Hastings was a candidate, and in which money was to be had for the asking, the bribers and the bribed on both sides being as plentiful as blackberries. This event was about a year and a half after the more solemn occasion which took me and my friend to Chiddingly. This journey of 23 miles was a mere trifle of itself, but mark what followed! Early next morning we commenced a rural and seaside tour of over 70 miles which in the present day but few persons probably other than bicyclists would undertake to accomplish in the time. We had no riding and but very little resting, and the route which we pursued was from Chiddingly to Laughton and thence through Glynde to Beddingham, where we had an early breakfast. We then walked on through Rodmill, Tarring, Denton and Blatchington to Seaford, where Boniface, a relative, refreshed us with beer and biscuit. We then pursued our way to Newhaven where another Boniface and another relative, of gigantic stature and weighing 22 stones, magnificently entertained us with coffee, ham, eggs, etc., and sent us on our way rejoicing to Ovendeen (sic), Kemp Town and Brighton. At the last-named town we lionized until - as Tom Cladpole would say - we were "gran nigh spent,," A short rest and a short meal sufficed for our refreshment there, as it was evident that if we were to get back to our country lodgings before the midnight hour there was no time to be weary in well-doing. Away we trudged therefore out of Brighton and round by road to Lewes, where we arrived at dusk, and where we consumed an entire rice pudding for which we paid tenpence, and drank the best ginger-beer that ever gratified our palates. Leaving Lewes, our nearest course would have been through Ringmer and Laughton, but we were under a promise to go round again by Beddingham, and so down through the Cliffe and by the cliff from Lewes to Beddingham we went. Having received at the latter village precise directions for the remainder of our return journey in the darkness of night, we proceeded cheerfully, and - all things considered - briskly through Chalvington, Rype and Laughton to Chiddingly, were at about midnight we were comfortably ensconed (sic) by the side of a bonny wood-fire in a large chimney-corner, and there practically discussing the merits of a bowl of hot milk-and-bread. We recounted the course and the incidents of our journey and were told by those who ought to have known that we had walked a distance of nearer 80 miles than 70. But even allowing for a little excess in such an estimate, I am nevertheless of opinion that even now if traced on the map, the distance would be found to measure over seventy miles. We did not return to Hastings until two days after that, and if we did not deem it expedient to deprive ourselves of one intervening day's rest the excuse may be found in the fact that we were under no obligations of a wager character, and that what we were undertaking was solely to gratify the longings of our own sweet will. I have now only to say that the journey home of 23 miles was accomplished, after the one day of comparative rest, and in a gale of wind with a downpour of rain. Instead of this walking excercise (sic) covering a distance of 120 or more miles, as it has been shown to have done, the journey, out and home, was intended to have been limited to about 50 miles, whilst the sole object was to be present at the obsequies attending the interment of a deceased and respected relative. And now, to return from this digression, and to come away as it were, fresh from the grave of a departed friend, one's mind seems almost instinctively to call up associations of a kindred nature at home. How often have I said within myself "What a pity it is that our grave-yards which contain the mortal remains of those whose memories we love to cherish, should become despoiled by the sacreligious uses to which many of them are now put." If one looks into these repositories of the dead, he finds in one of them the vaults dilapidated, the tablets defaced and the perpendicular records either broken or altogether removed. Into another is turned a flock of sheep to eat off whatsoever herbage may remain previously to the animals coming under the hands of the slaughterman; and in a third are to be heard discordant sounds of female voices in unseemly confusion as to the right or privilege of drying clothes in
A burial place where rests the spirit's clay
Till God shall quicken at the last great day;
Where oft unheeded are the words "Here lies;"
Where unregarded what the tomb implies;
Where, undiscerned is each small mound of mould,
With mortal remnants of the young and old.
Methinks if I could have known that when the graveyards were closed, not only against additional interments,(sic) but also against the inspection of the living whose friends have gone before them - as some of them now virtually are - I should have bestirred myself in some sort of way to rescue the "memorials of the dead" from that entire oblivion which has already well night overtaken them. It is now too late to do much for that object, but I purpose, if life and time permit, to devote a short space in each year's history to a simple record of deaths as copied from the monumental inscriptions or as derived from other sources, accompanied occasionally by some associative reminiscences. The first collection will be for the year 1839, and as follows :-
INTERMENTS DURING 1839
In St. Leonards Burial Grounds.
How. Thos s(father of Chas. Thos) one of the first inhabitants, Nov. 30th, aged 56. His widow died three years later.
Houghton, Wm. Richard, July 5th, 5 years.
Kirby, Curtis Henry, May 28th, 11 months.
Price, Henry, July 1st, 3 years.
Reynolds, Robert Arthur, Sept. 14th, 25 years.
Russell, William, August 3rd, 2 years.
Southurst, Frances, June 21st, 3 months.
Talbott, Frank, June 24th, 4 months.
Wheeler, Emily Sophia, June 10th, 3 1/2 years.
In St. Clement's Burial Grounds.
Hazlewood, Wm. Peter, son of the Rev. F. F., of the Croft, December 18th, aged 18 months.
Page, Mary, late of Pimlico. Oct. 5th, aged 67.
Russell, the wife of John, Jan. 8th, aged 70. Her husband died 10 years previously, aged 42.
In All Saints' Church-yard.
Bell, Henry George, of the Cutter Inn, Dec. 18th, aged 24. His mother, Elizabeth Bell, on the 22nd of April in the preceding year, at the age of 63, and his father James Bell, on the 6th of January, 1823, at the age of 48. Alas, poor Harry! He was born to a calling which unattended by the moral restraint that was necessary, brought him, it is feared to an early death. He was sprightly, and good natured; and as a youth in the year 1830, was said to have been one of a party who, in larking, accidently threw down the new iron railings which divided the "upper" from the "lower" Croft. Once given a start (like a row of bricks standing on end) the railings swayed and fell by their own gravitation from end to end. It was supposed by the authorities to have been maliciously done, and a reward of £50 was offered for information of the miscreants.
In All Saints' Burial Ground.
Belsey, Elizabeth, wife of Thomas, April 3rd, aged 56. This was the mother of Mrs. Giles, wife of the late organist of that name, and of Mr. James Belsey, who, while acting as special constable at the Hastings and St. Leonards Races, in 1842, had the misfortune to fracture one of his legs.
Crow, Crissey, March 9th, aged 65.
Hide, John, Oct. 17th, aged 68. His wife Abigail, died nine years before at the age of 56. Six of their children died in infancy.
Smith, Henry, son of John and Hannah Smith, of High street, July 11, aged 14 years.
Streeter, John, drowned at Plymouth, with Wm. Harman, and three others by the upsetting of a boat. His remains were not brought home, but the event is recorded on a memorial stone at the grave of his widow, who died a few years later.
In the Croft-Chapel Ground.
Dee Eliza, late of Cambridge, May 14th, aged 21.
St. Mary's-in-the-Castle Cemetery.
Cheere, Harriett Emily, wife of the Rev George, March 17th, aged 28.
Lecky, Mary Anne, wife of Mr. J. H., March 31st, aged 23.
Tutt, Sarah, wife of James, March 9th, aged 64.
Turbutt, Helen, daughter of the late Wm. (in the catacombs) April 10th, aged 19.
Halton Church-yard.
Cooper, Anna Maria, daughter of Mr. Cooper, librarian, and granddaughter of Mrs. Roe.
Roe, Mrs. Mary, many years dealer in wools and fancy goods at Hastings, June 1st, aged 67.
In Bexhill Church-yard.
Bennett, Mary, April 14th, aged 62.
Deudney, Thomas, a yeoman, May 10th, aged 82.
Easton, Elizabeth, February 19th, aged 92.
Easton, Elizabeth, August 4th, aged 80.
Landsell, Thomas, March 25th, aged 79.
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