As a refutation that the appellation “‘Democrat,” could with any degree of truth be attached to Dr. Knox, the following extract from his published remarks cannot fail to suffice:—

I honour the King and the Prince; and I firmly believe that they would scorn to persecute or to oppress, at the instigation of the most opulent peer in the realm, the most defenceless individual, the most abject outcast, the most forlorn beggar in the British empire.  I may be abused, reviled, forced out of theatres, but no man shall rob me of my loyalty.  The father of his people shall ever find me a dutiful son; and the Prince himself shall not excel me as a peaceable subject, and a friend to law and order.  Though he is certainly in all other qualities as much above me, as he is in birth, rank, and the glorious prospect of one day ruling over a great, enlightened, and a free people, he shall not excel me in a zeal for the interests of my country and of the human race.

Many persons endeavoured to induce Dr. Knox to take legal proceedings against his cowardly assailants; but he contented himself by sparing his pocket, publishing a narrative of the transaction,—now a rare work, although it went through three editions,—and lampooning, in a pamphlet called Prolegomena, those “Gentlemen of the Brighton Theatre,” who, to be revenged on him, magnanimously insulted and assaulted his wife and his children.

Many persons have a natural predilection for wandering amongst the tombs.  Whether in a town or village, their first impulse on arriving at a strange place, is to visit its common burial place, to ruminate amongst the tombs.  A vastness, a solemnity, and a hallowedness seem to prevade the spot; and the mind in quietude has an indulgence there, a moralizing never exceeded even within the precincts of a sacred edifice.

The Poet has said,

            The grave can teach
In silence, louder than divines can preach.

A celebrated moralist thus expresses himself on Epitaphs:—

When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tombs of parents themselves, I see the vanity of grieving for those whom they must quickly follow; when I see kings lying by those that deposed them—when I see rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind; when I read the several dates of the tombs of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that Great Day, when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together.

In Brighton old churchyard there is vast material for thought, as great a diversity “In Memoriam” existing as in any burial place in the kingdom; the space being extensive and the monumental inscriptions numerous.  Time has obliterated many epitaphs, and destroyed numerous tombstones, few records of the departed being discernible of dates previous to the 18th century.  Thirty years since there were several wooden erections to record the memory of the dead; the memorial example of a catachresis, which

Words abused implies;
As, over his head a wooden tombstone lies.

The oldest tablet in Brighton churchyard is that at the north of the church, placed—it being a flat stone,—to the memory of Alice, the wife of Richard Masters, who died May, 25th, 1696.  It is contiguous to headstones that bear the most quaint epitaphs in the whole ground.  Immediately near it is that of Mary Sanders, April, 1753, and bears this injunction to her surviving family:—

My loving children, all agree;
Pray live in Love and Unity.

The tomb next to it is thus inscribed:—

Here lyeth Anne ye wife of Richard Halsted, aged 23, and Elizabeth aged 22 years, both daughters of Henry and Mary Stanbridge, who dyed in May, 1728.

They were two louing sisters,
   Who in this dust now ly, that
Uery day Anne was buryd
   Elizabeth did dy.

Just at this spot, also, a stone points out the last resting place of the celebrated Sake Deen Mahomed, the introducer of shampooing into England, in 1784.  He died on the 24th of February, 1851, at the advanced age of 102 years.  By the pathway at the south-east of the chancel are deposited the remains of Martha Gunn, the royal bather of Brighton, who died May 2nd, 1815, at the age of 88 years.  Her companion of the bath, Smoaker Miles, is buried near the west boundary wall of the church-yard, immediately opposite Upper North Street.  The spot is marked by a tombstone, but the inscription has been wholly obliterated by time.  To the east of the stone which marks Martha Gunn’s grave, is the tomb of Swan Downer, Esq., who endowed the school for girls, known as Swan Downer’s School, and immediately to the west is a large headstone thus inscribed:—

The remains of Corporal Staines, a marine who fought under Nelson, at Copenhagen, lie at the foot of old Phœbe’s grave.

The following punning epitaph on the headstone, which marks the spot where rest the remains of a Mr. Law, to the south-west of the church, has excited particular notice:—

Stop, Reader! and reflect with awe,
For sin and death have conquered law;
Who, in full hope, resign’d his breath,
That grace had conquered sin and death.

Mr. Law, who was an inhabitant, lost his life by accidentally walking over the cliff, between the New Steine and the Royal Crescent.

To the east of the Chancel door a massive stone points out where are deposited the mortal remains of a great Brighton celebrity, Captain Tettersell.  It is thus inscribed:—

P. M. S.

Captain Nicholas Tettersel, through whose prudenee, ualour, and loyalty, Charles II., King of England, after he had escaped the sword of his merciless rebels, and his forces receiued a fatal ouerthrowe at Worcester, September 3rd, 1651, was faithfully preserued, and conueyed to France, departed this life the 26th of July, 1674.

Within this marble monument doth lie
Approved faith, honour, and loyalty;
In this cold clay he has now ta’en up his station;
Who once preserued the Church, the Crowne, and Nation;
When Charles the Greate was nothing but a breath,
This ualiant soule stept tweene him and Death:
Usurpers’ threats, nor tyrant rebels’ frowne,
Could not affright his duty to the crowne;
Which glorious act of his, for church and state,
Eight princes, in one day did gratulate—
Professing all to him in debt to bee,
As all the world are to his memory.
Since Earth could not reward the worth him given,
He now receives it from the King of Heaven.
In the same chest one iewel more you have,
The partner of his uirtues, bed, and grave.

Here lies interred the body of Mr. John Bolt, Master of Arts of Christ College, in Cambridge, aged seventy-eight years, who was a faithful and laborious preacher of the Gospel for the space of fifty-six years; whom God had blessed with twenty-nine children by two wives.  He died in full assurance of a glorious resurrection, on the 2nd day of November, 1669, and was buried the 7th, likewise of the same month; in the pious memory of whom, his sorrowful son, Daniel Bolt, hath erected this monument.

Stay, passenger, and lett thoughts awhile;
Contemplate Death; Sin curse, which doth beguile
Us of our best enjoyments, and impair
Whatever unto most men pleasant are.
’Tis not thy learning nor thy piety
That can secure thee from Death’s tyranny.
Witness this learned, pious man of God,
Who fell a victim to his conquering rod.
Nothing but Virtue can outlive our date
That gives a being beyond mortal fate.

Vivit post funera virtus.

The most quaint epitaph was on a slab in the floor just within the Chancel door.  It was nearly obliterated some years since; but shortly after the present Vicar came to the living, he had it fresh cut.  It, however, with many other relics, was destroyed during the restoration before mentioned.  It was:—

Oh! dear mother, you are gone before,
And I, a wratch, wait at the door:
Sin doth not only keep me thence,
But makes me loath to go from hence.
When Christ hath healed me of my sin,
He’ll make me fit and let me in.

This youth, while viewing amidst a large concourse of persons assembled on the Pier Head of this town, on the 17th day of July, 1826, some trials designed to show the practibility of conveying the means of escape to ship-wrecked persons by means of a chain attached to a ball; from which, on one of the experiments, it separated on the discharge of the cannon, and instantaneously deprived him of his life, in the 10th year of his age.

The experiment which was being made was that known as Captain Manby’s apparatus for rescuing persons from shipwreck.

On the 20th November, 1819, the funeral of a Sergeant of the 90th foot took place.  He was shot on the 17th of the same month, at the barracks, in Church street, by a private of the regiment, who, for the offence, was executed at Horsham.

The well here just alluded to, north of the wall which forms the northern boundary of Queen Square, was, on the restoration of the church, in 1853, filled up with decayed coffins and the mortal remains of those whose bodies were disinterred immediately to the north of the sacred edifice, to afford space and improve the effect of the building.  Amongst those whose narrow cell was less violated, was that of Sir Richard Phillips, the natural philosopher, and author of “A Million of Facts.”  His vault and tomb were reconstructed just within the south entrance to the cemetery ground, in front of Clifton Terrace, whither his remains were removed, and where they now rest.  Not far from this tomb lie the remains of Mrs. Pickstock, the headstone to whose grave is thus inscribed:—

To the extreme east of the old ground is the tomb of the real moderniser of Brighton,—whose death took place nine and twenty years ago,—and is thus inscribed:—

Mr. Amon Wilds,
Died Sept. 12th 1833, aged 71 years

A remarkable incident accompanies the period at which this gentleman came to settle in Brighton.  Through his abilities and taste, the order of the ancient architecture of buildings in Brighton may be dated to have changed from its antiquated simplicity and rusticity; and its improvements have since progressively increased.  He was a man of extensive genius, and talent, and in his reputation for uprightness of conduct could only meet its parallel.

Contiguous to this tomb, a stone marks the resting-place of a highly respected inhabitant, for many years the landlord of the Old Ship Hotel:—

Leonard Shuckard,
Died 17th January, 1837, aged 70.

Immediately west is the grave of a Brighton celebrity, whose memory is thus recorded:—

John Jordan,
Many years a respectable hair-dresser of this town.
Died November 13th, 1810.

Originally the stone was further inscribed:

Say what you will, say what you can,
John Jordan was an honest man.

But there appearing a species of levity about these two lines unbefitting a place of Christian sepulture, they were removed after the stone had been up but a few days.

The handsomest monument in the churchyard is that at the north-east entrance, to the memory of Anna Maria Crouch, formerly a performer at Drury Lane Theatre.  She died Oct. 2nd, 1805.  It was erected by Mr. Kelly.

A large stone cross or crucifix formerly stood immediately in front of the church.  The stone steps to it and the lower fragment of the pillar alone remain.  A legend in connexion with this cross has been preserved, of which the following is a copy:—

Richard Jeffery.
Died 10th July, 1806, aged 64.

When Barb’ra died, O Lord, prayed I,
Let me die too, and near her lie—
The Lord was good, and heard my pray’r,
And here we lie a faithful pair.

Preceding it, on the same stone, was the following:—

Sacred to the memory of
Barbara wife of Richard Jeffery;
Who having for upwards of 50 years diligently performed
the office of Sexton in this Parish, died
30th September, 1805, aged 63.

Look, mingled lie, the aged and the young,
The rich and poor,—an undistinguish’d throng;
Death conquers all, and Time’s subduing hand
No tomb, no marble statue can withstand;
Mark well thy latter end,—in Bab’ra see,
What, reader, thou, and all mankind must be.
The Grave for thousands though she toilsome made,
Yet here at last her lifeless body’s laid,
In joyful hope, as Christian hope will be,
To rise to life and immorality.

On the tombstone of a Captain Cook was formerly:—

Many a hard tempestuous gale he’s known,
But on his native shore at last he’s thrown;
No rocks or quicksands has he now to fear;
Safe from all storms he rides at anchor here.
Go, and be wise then, ’ere it is too late,
With firm resolve to meet the arm of fate.
A few short years, Alas! how quick they pass;
To this complexion must you come at last.
Death conquers all, and drags them to the grave,
The rich, the poor, the coward and the brave.
Think then, ye youth in time, and dying say,
Come when thou wilt, O Lord!  I ready am to-day.

Parents and Friends, weep not for me,
Tho’ I was drownded in the sea!—

and then, after due deliberation, if he chose to renew his persuasions he must use his pleasure.  The poor man seemed overwhelmed in thought, and much struck.  Perhaps the lad may suffer no further solicitation on this account, unless his father should turn out to be a staunch predestinarian.”

To the north of the church is a dwarf head-stone, thus inscribed:—

Sacred to the memory of Edmund Borman, who was accidently killed,
February 11th, 1796—aged 49 years.

A headstone that stands about the centre of the ground to the east of the church, and yet bears the name of Lucy Fermor, formerly had on it the following acrostic, now wholly effaced by age:—

L ook here, ye gay and giddy throng,
U nmindfnl as ye go;
C all’d you may be as soon as I,
Y oung, strong, and healthy too.

F or eighteen years I had not seen
E ’er death did cut me down,
R eturned to dust as now you see;
M ore quick may be your doom.
O h do not then forget, your souls
R equired may be soon.

Here lies all that is mortal of
John Pocock,

Who was, during 13 years, Clerk of the Chapel Royal, and 38 years Clerk of this Parish.

In the discharge of his duty how simple, upright, and affectionate he was, will alone be known at the last day.

He came to his grave on the 13th of June, 1846, like a shock of corn cometh in his season, aged 81.

The following, which is on a stone by the footway, just south of the tower, has a melancholy history attached to it:—

Sacred to the Memory of John Rowles, who, in discharging his duties as a Peace Officer of this Town, was unfortunately killed by a Wound from a Bayonet, on the 5th Nov., 1817, Aged 40 years.

The Riot Act was read by Serjeant Runnington, and the utmost dismay prevailed.  About this time several squibs being let off near the soldiery, an attempt was made to capture the offenders.  Dreadful to relate, however, while charging, one of the military accidentally thrust his bayonet into the body of Mr. Rowles, a headborough.  The steel entered just above the hip, and, passing through, appeared three inches on the other side,—the wound proved to be mortal,—and the ill fated man lingered, in the utmost agony, until half-past seven on Thursday evening, when he died, leaving a pregnant wife and three infant children to lament his untimely end.  Two of the patrol, Slaughter and Burt, were also so wounded with the stones, cast by the mob, that they were obliged to be carried home, where they remained for some time in a very dangerous state.  A woman, also, was wounded in the head with slugs, fired from a pistol.  The disturbance lasted until a late hour of the night, and the military did not repair to their barracks until two or three o’clock the next morning.

On the following morning, the persons who had been apprehended for creating the disturbance, were brought before the sitting magistrates, Mr. Serjeant Runnington and Mr. Hopkins, at the Town Hall.

With reference to the particular pillar in question, no records, beyond the legend, exist which might contribute to the solution of its origin, but the probability is that it was erected about the seventh century, when the mania for columns and crosses prevailed.

The New Burial Ground, as it is termed, was added in 1824; and the Cemetery Ground was opened in what was known as Butcher Russell’s field, in 1841, the first burial in it being that of Mary Wheeler, the wife of a labourer, who was employed in laying out and levelling the ground.  She died June 27th, 1841, and an obelisk marks her grave.

The order of the Sheriff, that the people should throw Carver’s bible into the fire, does not appear to have been complied with, as the book is still preserved, and is in the possession of Mr. Ade, Colonnade, North Street.  It is what is termed, a “breeches” bible, from the circumstance that in Genesis iii., 7, the words are: “They”—meaning Adam and Eve—“sewed figge leaves together, and made themselves ‘breeches,’” other translations being “aprons.”  It is in a state of good preservation, but the title page is gone, hence its date cannot be correctly known; but on comparing it with others of apparently the like edition,—an imperial octavo,—it was published in 1550.  It received but little injury from the action of the fire upon it; merely a slight discolouration on some of the pages, from the smoke; but the following engrossed memorandum on a blank half-page, between Malachi and the Apocrypha, proves that it is not in the same binding now as it was when Carver had it:

On the back of the same half-page, is written, in a good round-hand: “Sarah Clark—1778.”

On the inside of the cover, at the commencement, is written, “Wililam Clarke, his book, Septem Ber the 20, 1744.”  This name also, with the same date, appears on the fly page between the Old and the New Testament.  Where, also, previous to the “Holie Gospel according to S. Matthevve,” are the annexed entries:—

William Clarke the son of iohn and mary his wife, was Born the 4 of September, near 4 in the morning in the year of our lord 17.11.

the Son of william and Sarah his wife was Born ivne (June) the 13 at a C wor ter past 4 in the after noon on a Sather day, 1747.

William Clark Dyed December the 5, 1747.

In the margin of the 11th chapter of Daniel, is written in good Old English:—

edward Carffre

1653.  his Booke.

January the first.

The blood of the martyr is visible on Chapters 19 and 20 of Judges, and also on Chapters 1 and 3 of Zephania, where the leaves have closed on each other.  But the greatest quantity is on the Book of Ruth, which is very much splashed with the vital fluid.  Altogether, the Bible is a very precious relic, and its present possessor attaches to it great value, he having refused large sums of money that have been offered him for it.

Stephen Gratwicke, a Brighton man of respectable family, and of liberal education, was put to death in St. George’s Fields, Southwark, about the end of May, 1557.  At his trial, before the Bishops of Winchester and Rochester, and a priest suborned to personate the Bishop of Chichester, he expostulated with his judges for keeping men a year or two in prison, “permittyng them not so much as a Testament to look upon, for their soules comfort.”  To this the Bishop of Winchester replied:—“No, syr, we will use you as we will use the child, for if the child will hurt himself with a knife we will keepe the knife from him.  So, because you will damme your soule with the Word, therefore you shall not have it!”

After the defeat at Worcester, on the 3rd of September, 1651, Charles II., on his arrival at Kidderminster, by the advice of the Earl of Derby, and under the guidance of Francis Yates, brother-in-law of Penderell, retired to “Boscobel,” a lone house on the borders of Staffordshire, where lived one Richard Penderell, a farmer, and his four brothers.  By the aid of the Penderells, Charles clothed himself in the garb of a peasant, and carried a bill-hook with him into the woods, where daily he pretended to be employed cutting faggots.  His only attendant at that time was Colonel Careless, a Roman Catholic.  The suspicion of the Parliamentary army was, however, aroused by two strangers staying at such a lone place as Boscobel, and detachments of troops were, in consequence, sent in search of them, and it was then that Charles and Colonel Careless hid themselves in the branches of an oak tree.  By the assistance of a Benedictine monk, named Hudleston, Lord Wilmot then joined the King, and by his proposition, they, with Penderell, repaired, at night, to the house of a Mr. Whitegrave, a Catholic gentleman residing some distance from Boscobel.  The King, in relating his escape, used to say that the rustling of Richard’s calf-skin breeches was the best guide for him during the dark night’s walk.  Here they were pursued by the parliamentarian army; and Colonel Lane, at whose house Lord Wilmot had been concealed, being made acquainted with the critical position of Charles, offered to conceal him in his house at Bentley.  From there he retired to Bristol, at the house of Mr. Norton, a kinsman of Colonel Lane, in the hope of being able to obtain a passage to the continent, as “William,” the servant to Miss Jane Lane (sister of Colonel Lane), but no vessel would leave there for a month.  Charles, being thus frustrated in his object, placed himself under the guardianship of Colonel Windham, of Dorsetshire, in whose charge he continued nine days, and then went to Heale, within three miles of Salisbury, where he remained until the necessary arrangements had been made by Lord Wilmot, for his passage from Brighthelmston to France.

After the Restoration, Tettersell, in 1671, in consideration of his loyal services, was appointed by James, Duke of York, (then Lord High Admiral of England,) Captain of the “Royal Escape,” as a fifth-rate; and the year ensuing, the king granted the reversion of that sinecure to his son.

The following is the patent for the reversion of the appointment:—

Charles R.

Whereas our dear brother, James, Duke of York, Lord High Admiral of England, hath by his orders, dated the 4th of September last past, directed you to cause Captain Nicholas Tetershall to be borne in pay, together with one servant, as captain of our vessel called the Royal Escape; and that he should be allowed pay as captain of a fifth-rate ship, and he and his servant paid with the yard at Deptford; and whereas the said Nicholas Tetershall hath humbly besought us to continue the said allowance unto his son, Nicholas Tetershall, after his decease, in consideration of his faithful and fortunate service performed unto us, we have thought fit to condescend unto that his request, and it is accordingly our will and pleasure that after the decease of the said Nicholas Tetershall, the father, he, the said Nicholas Tetershall, the son, be borne in pay, together with one servant, as captain of our said vessel, the Royal Escape, and that he be allowed pay as captain of a fifth-rate ship, and he and his servant paid with the yard at Deptford, in the same manner as his father now is.  Given at our Court at Whitehall, the 29th day of August, 1672, in the four-and-twentieth year of our reign.

By His Majesty’s command,
Henry Coventry.

To the Principal Officers and Commissioners
      of our Navy now and the time being.

Resolved.—“That as a mark of respect to Mrs. Lane, and in testimony of her services, in being instrumental to the preservation and security of the person of his royal Majesty, there be conferred on the said Mrs. Lane the sum of £1,000, to buy her a jewel, and that the same be, and hereby stands charged on the arrears of the grand excise, and paid to her assigns, in course, after the other sums are satisfied which are charged on the grand excise, by former orders of this Parliament.  And the commissioners of excise, for the time being, are hereby impowered and required to satisfy and pay the same accordingly.  And this order, together with the acquitance of the said Mrs. Lane, or her assigns, testifying the receipt thereof, shall be to the commissioners of excise a sufficient warrant and discharge.”