Tortula Hornschuchiana, Orthotrichum rupestre, and Orthotrichum Ludwigii, Bryum torquescens, Eurynchium circinnatum, and Eurynchium striatulum have been found by Mr. Mitten only, about Woolsonbury Hill.
The plants growing on chalk, are: Seligeria calcarea, on inclined faces of chalk pits, and occasionally on detached chalk. Seligeria calcicola, in similar situations on Woolsonbury. This is nearly allied to Seligeria pusilla, and has the capsule always ovate. Anacalypta caespitoso in some seasons is in plenty on Woolsonbury. Only two localities are known in Sussex, and it is not found elsewhere in Britain. Bryum intermedium is frequent in chalk pits, and remarkable for having the fruit on the same tuft in all stages of maturity. Encalypta streptocarpa, Woolsonbury, under beech trees. Neckera crispa, on Woolsonbury and Newtimber; in fruit on the first hill. Cylindrothecium Montagnei, Saddlescombe. Rhyncostegium depressum, Newtimber woods. Hypnum polymorphum, Patcham embankment. Hypnum chrysophyllum, common everywhere. Eurynchium circinnatum, Clayton.
The clay summits of the hills, as at Woolsonbury, give Phascum alternifolium and Weissia mucronata, and Physcomitrium fasciculare on Pyecombe downs. Racomitrium canescens is frequent in similar localities, and fruited on Woolsonbury in December, 1858. Tortula subulata and Eurynchium hians are also frequent, the latter differing from Eurynchium Swartzii, its near ally, in its wider, not acuminate, leaves.
The stiff soils of the hills furnish Phascum rectum, Phascum curvicollum, Astomum crispum, Gymnostomum microstomum, Pottia minutula, Anacalypta lanceolata, Didymodon luridus, Tortula convoluta, also Phascum bryoides in disused roads.
A rivulet at Grin Gap, near Newhaven, with its miniature ravine, gives Webera albicans, in fruit, Trichostomum topnaceum, and Hypnum riparium.
On the cliffs, east of Brighton, are found Acaulon triquetrum, the only British locality for this; also, Gymnostomum tortile, the var ß subcylindricum of which occurs on a hill near Greenway Station, Phascum curvicollum, Pottia cavifolia, Trichostomum mutabile, and Trichostomum crispulum. Anacalypta Starkeana, ß brachyodus, are all frequent, and Webera carnea, at Black Rock.
The sides of Woolsonbury have numerous species, as follows;—Phascum bryoides var γ, Archidium phascoides, Fissidens adiantoides, Dicranum palustre, Hypnum molluscum, Brachythecium glareosum, Bryum bimum, Bryum pseudo-triquetrum, Bryum roseum, and Bryum Billarderii; this last plant is exceedingly rare. It is the only known British locality, and it is not known to have been gathered elsewhere north of the Colosseum at Rome.
Brachythecium campestre is common in fields among grass, differing from Brachythecium rutubulum by its gradually tapering, not suddenly acuminate leaves. Bryum capillare ß flaccidum is found in a field in Newtimber valley. On walls Tortula vinealis, Tortula revoluta, Tortula rupestris, Grimmia pulvinata, Orthotrichum saxatile, Orthotrichum diaphanum, and Rhyncostegium tenellum, are luxuriant; but Bryum sanguineum is rare.
In Poynings springs Mnium affine and Hypnum filicinum are frequent. In the stubble fields at Aldrington are found Acaulon Florkeanum and Acaulon muticum, and in the near hedge-banks, Anacalypta Starkeana, Tortula insulana, Bryum Donianum, Scleropodium illecebrum. Once, in November, 1858, the very rare fruit of Eurynchium piliferum was gathered.
Around Aldrington Basin are seen Tortula ruralis, Tortula squarrosa, Trichostomum flavo-virens, Pottia Heimii, Pottia cavifolia δ gracilis, Physcomitrium pyriforme, Bryum cernuum, Bryum caespiticium, Bryum inclinatum, Bryum atropurpureum, and Rhyncostegium megapolitanum; also fertile Brachythecium albicans and Camptothecium lutescens.
In woods are Bryum torquescens, Orthotrichum Lyellii, Orthotrichum Ludwigii, Orthotrichum rupestre, Mnium hornum, Mnium rostratum, Mnium undulatum, Anomodon viticulosus, Neckera pumila, Neckera complanata, Isothecium myurum, Leucodon sciuroides, Cryphaea heteromalla, Leptodon Smithii, (fruiting at Poynings), Plagiothecium denticulatum, Plagiothecium sylvaticum, Eurynchium Swartzii, and all the species of Hylocomium: the last mentioned abundantly, with capsules, at Clayton. On detached ash trees at the feet of the hills, Orthotrichum tenellum, Orthotrichum pulchellum, and Tortula papillosa are not unfrequent. On beech stems about Woolsonbury, Zygodon viridissimus fruits freely, and a most diminutive state of Schistidium apocarpum is seen.
The Mosses already indicated are not the only species found on these soils; for, on the Arundel Downs, precisely similar in formation to those of our range, Encalyta vulgaris, Antitrichia curtipendula, Thrudium abietinum and some others may be met with.
In proof of the extreme beauty of the form of these objects and the marvellous design of our Great Creator, a more positive instance of the perfection of vegetable organization could not be adduced than Acoulon Florkeanum. Taking a single plant, radicles are found, corresponding to roots in flowering plants, at the bottom of the stem. Next rise the overlapping leaves, disposed, for instance, as are those of the lettuce. When these leaves are dissected off, the stem is exposed to view, consisting of a pedicle with a capsule at the top, terminating in an oblique apiculus or small point, and covered by a membrane, called a calyptra, or hood. And clustering around the base of the pedicle are the sexual flowers. The whole plant does not exceed the sixteenth of an inch in height and width, the size of a small pin’s head.
Thus, after enumerating most, if not all the Wild Flowers and Mosses which attach themselves to the natural history of Brighton, we may say,
Beautiful children of the glen and dell,—
The dingle deep—the moorland stretching wide,
And of the mossy fountain’s sedgy side,
Ye, o’er my heart have thrown a lovesome spell.
And though the worldling, scorning way deride—
I love ye well.
The hills and the vales about Brighton, have more than a natural history in connexion with the animal and vegetable kingdoms, to give them a feature in the nation’s chronicles. Not the least important events have been the Camps, lyrically handed to posterity by one of the most martial and spirit-stirring pieces extant, the “Brighton Camp, or, the Girl I left behind me,” music that seems inherent to drums and fifes.
Although “Brighton Camp” is the familiar term used, it must be understood that there have been several Camps held here. The first was in 1793, and was formed on Tuesday, August 13th. The troops composing it the previous morning at three o’clock, struck their tents on Ashdown Forest, from which they marched at five, and reached Chailey Common at half-past eleven. There they pitched their tents for the night. On the Tuesday morning at four o’clock, they were again on the march, and at noon they arrived on the hills over Brighton. The baggage, part of the heavy artillery, and the corps of artificers, marched by way of Lewes; but the army in general, consisting of about 7,000 men, took their route over the South Downs. By two o’clock the Camp had formed in the presence of the Prince of Wales, who met them as they came over the hill. The left of the encampment was close to the town, in Belle-Vue Field,—now Regency square,—and stretched in a direct line along the coast. The encampment, which increased to 10,000 troops, was composed of regulars and militia, and was continued, on account of some apprehensions of an invasion by the New Republic of France, till the 28th of October.
As a matter of course, during the time of the encampment, there was a Sham Fight. Its plan was, an enemy attacking Brighton and the Camp. The enemy consisted of eight regiments of infantry, with their battalion guns, under General Sir William Howe; while four battalions of infantry, the light horse, and the mounted artillery, defended the country. Brighton was denominated Dunkirk, and was of course taken by the British. But one prisoner was captured, an officer of the East Middlesex, by his own Major, after a stout resistance, for the offence of sitting on a drum, during the inactivity that generally prevails for hours in the field. The officer was put under arrest, but the next day he was liberated.
The Camp of 1794, was formed early in the summer, about a mile and a half to the west of the town. It consisted at first, of 7,000 men; but when the harvest was got in, it was increased to nearly 15,000, as the militia regiments were not called out till the crops were cleared, the men then composing the militia corps being principally agricultural labourers. On the breaking up of this Camp many of the regiments remained in Barracks at Brighton. The Barracks then were in West Street, at the corner of Little Russel Street, afterwards the Custom House; in North Street, on property now known as the Unicorn Yard,—Windsor Street; and in Church Street, the present Infantry Barracks.
Nothing of any particular importance took place during this Camp. But that of the following year will ever be memorable in the history of Brighton, inasmuch as it is connected with the trial and execution of two men and the flogging of several others for mutiny. Not that the mutiny took place here, but Brighton was the military head quarters of the troops, hence the Court Martial was held in the town.
East Blatchington, near Newhaven, was the theatre of the disaffection, arising from the shortness and bad quality of the bread and flour supplied to the troops; in consequence of which, some men of the Oxford Militia broke into the mill in the vicinity of the barracks, and also, in a rebellious mood, emptied the contents of a vessel laden with corn, into the river, at Newhaven. The Court Martial was held at the Castle Tavern, which occupied the site whereon now stand the buildings which form the north-east corner of Castle Square. The trial occupied eight days; and ended in Edward Cooke,—termed Captain Cooke, from his taking the lead in the mutiny,—and Henry Parish being found guilty and sentenced to be shot. Six others were also convicted, but their sentence was only that they should be flogged. Much sympathy was shown by the inhabitants to the poor fellows, who were each day marched under a strong escort, from the guard house of the Battery, Artillery Place, to the Castle and back. Many of the residents in Russell Street, every night and morning took them provisions, which they were able to pass to them through the bars of their airing ground; and on the morning of the execution of the sentence upon them the wretched men were unable, from their emotion, to express their thanks for the kindness the people showed them.
From the hour of four in the morning of the day appointed for them to suffer, the whole lines of encampment were ordered to hold themselves in readiness; at five, however, in the evening, the officers were given to understand that the execution was countermanded for that day. The cause of this short respite was attributed to the absence of the Prince of Wales’s 10th Regiment of Light Dragoons, afterwards the 10th Hussars, which did not march into Brighton till nine o’clock on the following morning, and of course could not pitch their tents till late in the evening. When this regiment was seen on the march to their station, all hopes of an expected reprieve seemed entirely to vanish. The most respectable people, however, of Brighton took this opportunity of one day’s delay, to repeat their petition in favour of the two men; but all proved ineffectual, for early on the 13th June, 1795, the Oxford Militia—the regiment to which the mutineers belonged,—began their march from the Barracks at Blatchington to Brighton, to be made awful spectators of their unhappy comrades’ punishment, and to be their executioners. At four o’clock the whole were ordered to accompany them from the ground to Goldstone Bottom, at which place they arrived about five. The six men—for there were thirteen mutineers,—that were sentenced to be flogged, proceeded afterwards in a covered waggon, guarded by a strong escort, which was composed of select men, picked from every regiment of the line. The two condemned to be shot followed in the rear in an open cart, attended by the Rev. Mr. Dring, and guarded by a second escort, under the command of Captain Leigh, of the 10th Regiment of Light Dragoons, and one of the Captains belonging to the Lancashire Fencibles. When they arrived, however, at the winding road which leads to Goldstone Bottom,—or Vale,—which is surrounded by an eminence, both the escorts were commanded to halt. The six men sentenced to be flogged were then taken from the covered waggon, and, having been marched through the entire line, which was under arms to receive them, they were brought back to a whipping-post, that was fixed in the centre of the different regiments. The drummers selected to flog them were men belonging to their own corps. To three of them were given three hundred lashes each. This was the number they then received, as, from their long durance, and consequent weakness, the surgeon pronounced that they could suffer no more. The fourth was then stripped, and, after being tied to the flogging-post, was reprieved, as were also his two other comrades.
This part of the distressing ceremony being gone through, the two unfortunate men condemned to be shot were taken from the cart and marched, as the others had been, up the line, with this difference only, of being conducted also through part of the outer line, which was composed of the Prince’s Regiment, and the Lancashire and Cinque Port Fencibles. They were then marched to the front of the Oxfordshire Militia, where the coffins stood to receive their bodies, the Artillery being planted on the right, with lighted matches, in the rear of the Oxfordshire, to prevent any mutiny, if attempted, and the whole height commanded by two thousand cavalry.
Cooke and Parish being conducted to the fatal spot, exchanged a few words with the clergyman, and then kneeled, with the greatest composure and firmness, on their coffins; the first time, however, they kneeled, it was done the wrong way, but being placed in a proper situation they received their death from a delinquent platoon of twelve of their own regiment, at the distance only of six paces. One of them was not quite dead when he fell, and was therefore shot through the head with a pistol. This, however, was not the last awful ceremony the line had to experience; for, to conclude the dreadful tragedy, every regiment on the ground was ordered to file off past the bodies before they were suffered to be enclosed in their coffins. The whole scene was impressibly awful beyond any spectacle of the kind ever exhibited.
No disturbance whatever resulted from the melancholy affair; everything was conducted with the greatest solemnity and order: the awe and silence that reigned on the occasion infused a terror, mingled with an equal degree of pity, that was distressing beyond conception. The Oxfordshire Militia naturally experienced more afflicting sensations than any other regiment on the ground.
Cooke and Parish were both young men, and behaved with uncommon firmness and resignation; they marched through the lines with a steady step, and regarded their coffins with an undaunted eye.
On the morning of his execution Cooke wrote to his brother a letter, the original of which is in the possession of the author of this book. It is written in a free and bold style, very different to what might be expected from a man under sentence and at the point of an ignominious death. The following is a correct copy, verbatim et literatim, of the original:—
Brighton, 13th of June, 1795.
Dear Brother,—This comes with my kind Love to you, and I hope you be well. I am brought very low and weak by long confinement and been in great trouble. Dear Brother,—I am sentenced Death, and must Die on Saturday, the 13th of June; and I hope God Almighty will forgive me my Sins. I never was no body’s foe but my own, and that was in Drinking and breaking the Sabbath, and that is a great Sin. I have prayed night and Day to the Almighty God to forgive me and take me to Heaven, and I hope my prayers be not in vain. I am going to die for what the Redgment done; I am not afraid to meet Death, for I have done no harm to no person, and that is a great comfort to me: there is a just God in heaven that knows I am going to suffer innocently. Dear Brother,—I should be very glad to see you before I Depart this Life. I hope God Almighty will be a Guardian over you and all my relations, and I hope we shall meet in heaven, where we shall be ever happy without End. So no more from the hand of your ever loving and Dying Brother,
Edward Cooke.
A print extant of the execution of these misguided men, is in the possession of Mr. Benjamin Kent, the landlord of the Good Intent Inn, Russell Street. It is thus inscribed:—
“The Awful Scene or Ceremony of the Two Soldiers belonging to the Oxfordshire Militia, which were shot on June 13th, 1795, in a Vale, while in Camp at Brighton, by a party of the Oxfordshire Militia which were very Active in the late riots, the men appeared very composed and resigned, the party which shot them were much affected, Infantry, and Artillery, were drawn up in lines on the occasion.”
The engraving, which is about 18 inches by 15 inches, represents the men kneeling on their coffins, the figure signifying Cooke being in the attitude of prayer, with clasped hands and a firm countenance; while Parish, though with his hands clasped denoting his devotion, is dejected in his general position and has downcast looks. Three lines of four men each are at “present,” the front rank kneeling, while at each side of the men to be executed is a man at “ready.” The Rev. Mr. Dring, who is in his clerical robes, is departing from the scene towards the rising ground to the right, at the foot of which is an infantry regiment at “attention,” with the 10th Regiment of Light Dragoons at then rear. On the crown of the hill are the civilians, male and female; in front of whom, to the right, are soldiers formed in a circle, within which, at a triangle, is a man undergoing the punishment of the lash, an officer, evidently the surgeon, superintending the proceedings. Immediately in the rear are the tents of the encampment.
Thirteen regiments were present at the execution, which for nearly fifty years was pointed out by the form of the coffins, the positions of the men firing, and other incidents of the scene, being cut out in the turf by the shepherd, whose innocent flocks browsed where so tragic an affair occurred. The plough has since obliterated all traces of the tragedy from the spot.
A singular instance of the effect of nervous excitement is connected with the execution. The Rev. Mr. Dring, the Chaplain of the regiment, who attended the culprits in their last moments, being a nervous man, and having a great horror of the duty which he had to perform, made a special request that after he had administered to them the last religious consolation, he should have sufficient time to get beyond the sound of the report of the fatal muskets before the order to fire was given. Promise of compliance with his request was made; but either from his tardy progress in leaving the spot, or a miscalculation of time, the word of command was given, and the firing took place while he yet was within hearing. The effect upon him was that he fell to the ground, and never after recovered the shock upon his nerves.
The bodies of the two mutineers were interred in Hove churchyard, contiguous to the centre of the old north boundary wall, where their remains continued undisturbed till the restoration of the Church, in 1834, when a saw-pit was dug at the actual spot, and a few of their bones were exhumed. The burying party was under Sergeant-Major Masters, who afterwards was a publican at Witney. The receipt for the burial fees on the interment of the bodies is still retained by his family. A few years since, Mr. Samuel Thorncroft, the Assistant-Overseer of Brighton, being at Witney, by chance called at Masters’s house, when, the subject of the execution of the two men being introduced, the receipt referred to was shown him, and Masters stated that so infamously constructed were the coffins in which the corpses were put that, notwithstanding they were buried in their regimental attire, their blood oozed through the coffins and ran down the backs of their comrades who conveyed them to their grave.
The vicinity of Goldstone Bottom is memorable not only for these military executions, but, also, for the hanging and gibbeting of two men, James Rook and Edward Howell, on the 26th of April, 1793, just north of the Old Shoreham road, beyond Hove Drove. Their crime was robbing the mail, at that time conveyed between Brighton and Shoreham by a lad, named John Stephenson, on horseback. The robbery took place on the night of the 30th of October, 1792. What they took was of little value; and they used no violence. In a barn adjacent they broke open the letters and shared their trifling contents.
Their apprehension was effected by an old woman, named Phœbe Hassell, who happened, as was her frequent custom, to be taking some refreshment at the Red Lion public house, at Old Shoreham, kept at that time by a man named Penton, when Rook came in and ordered some beer. In the course of conversation with the persons present, the subject of the mail robbery came up, and from some observations made by Rook, Phœbe, in her own mind, was convinced that he was one of the party in the affair. She in consequence, went out and gave information of what had transpired to the parish constable, Bartholomew Roberts, who was well acquainted with Rook, then living with his mother in a small cottage close by, on the spot now occupied by Adur Lodge. On being taken into custody, Rook, whose age was about 24, a simple, inoffensive fellow, who had been the dupe of his companion in the crime, admitted the offence, and afforded such intelligence as led to the apprehension of Howell, at Old Shoreham mill, where, at the time, he was reading a pamplet to the miller. Howell was 40 years old, and by trade a tailor.
Some of the stolen property was found upon them; and their identification by the mail-boy being complete, they were committed from the Fountain Inn, for trial at the Spring Assizes, at Horsham, when, being found guilty, they were sentenced to be executed at the spot where the robbery had been effected. They were conveyed to Horsham on horseback, and for their safe custody, not only were they handcuffed, and pinioned with strong cords, but each had his legs roped together under the horse’s belly, and, besides the constable that accompanied them, there was a military escort of four cavalry.
An immense concourse of spectators witnessed the execution of these unfortunate men, whose bodies, according to the barbarous custom of the times, were afterwards encased in an iron skeleton dress and gibbetted. The disgusting sight of their decaying bodies remained some time a terror to the timid, but a mark of recreation to the reckless and thoughtless, who were accustomed to throw at them and practise many revolting tricks.
Many relics of the event remain in the possession of inhabitants of Shoreham and Hove; Mr. Alderman Martin, in Brighton, has, at the present time, a tobacco stopper which was made from the bone of a finger of Rook.
When, however, the elements had caused the clothes and the flesh to decay, the aged mother of Rook, night after night, in all weathers,—and the more tempestuous the weather the more frequent the visits,—made a sacred pilgrimage to the lonely spot; and it was noticed that on her return she always brought something away in her apron. Upon being watched, it was discovered that the bones of the hanging men were the objects of her search, and as the wind and rain scattered them on the ground she collected the relics, and conveyed them to her home, and when the gibbets were stripped of their horrid burthen, in the dead silence of the night she interred them, deposited in a chest, in the hallowed ground of Old Shoreham Churchyard.
Besides being found guilty of robbing the mail, the Grand Jury, at the same Assizes, returned a “True Bill” against James Rook, for horse stealing; but he was not put upon his trial for that offence, in consequence of being left for death upon the other charge. The “Brief” for the prosecution in the horse stealing case, now “held” by the author of this book, runs thus:—
Brief for the Prosecutor.
The King agst. James Rook
On the Prosecution of
John Boyce,
For Horse Stealing.Indictment—States—That the Prisoner James Rook on the 31st of October 1792 at the Parish of New Shoreham in the County of Sussex feloniously did steal take drive and carry away a Brown Gelding the property of John Boyce the elder of New Shoreham aforesaid.
Case
In the Afternoon of the 30th of October 1792 about 3 o’Clock John Taylor the Servant of the Prosecutor turned his Master’s Brown Horse and another Horse into a field a short distance above the Street at Shoreham and fastened the Gate
And the next Morning about 5 o’Clock he went to the Field in order to get the Horses up to Work when he found the Brown Horse missing.—On the Morning of the 1st of Novr. between 10 and 11 o’Clock the Prisoner was seen by Henry Strivens on the Prosecutor’s Horse in company with one Edward Howell who came to water their horses at a Pond near a Barn at Perching belonging to Mr John Marchant about 3 or 4 Miles from Shoreham Strivens says he had seen the Horse before and knew him but did not know at the time who he belonged to—On the Evening of the said 1st of Novr. John Stephenson the Boy who Carries the Mail from Steyning to Brighthelmston was stopped and robbed of the mail in Goldstone Bottom near Brighthelmston by the prisoner and Howell at which time the Prisoner was on Prosecutor’s Horse which the Boy knew, having several times seen the Prosecutor’s Man with the Horse and having seen the same horse in the Prosecutor’s Field at New Shoreham both before and since the robbery.
John Taylor.
To prove that this witness (who is servant to the Prosecutor) about 3 o’Clock in the Afternoon of the 31st of Octr. 1792 had the Prosecutor’s Brown Horse with another up to the Field—That the next Morning about 5 o’Clock he went to get the Horses up to work when he found the Brown Horse missing . . . Call . . .
Henry Strivens.
To prove that between 10 and 11 o’Clock in the Morning of the 1st of Novr. 1792 as he was Threshing at a Barn at Perching about half a mile from the Hill and about 3 or 4 from Shoreham he saw two men the Prisoner and Howell come to a Pond to water their Horses within about forty yards of the Barn. That the Prisoner was upon a large Brown Gelding with a Sprig Tail and a large Miller’s Pad upon it. That the next day he saw the Prisoner and Howell in custody on the Hill near Shoreham for robbing the mail and also saw the Horse on which the Prisoner Rode which he was informed belonged to the Prosecutor and was the one he had lost and which was the same the Prisoner was on when he and Howell came to Water their horses and to Prove that he has since seen the Horse at Prosecutor’s at Shoreham . . . Call
John Stephenson.
To prove that he was stopped and robbed of the Mail on the Evening of the first of Novr. 1792 by the Prisoner and another Man whom this Witness believes to be Howell at a place called Goldstone Bottom near Brighthelmston. That the Prisoner was on the Prosecutor’s Horse which he knew by having several times before seen the Prosecutor’s Man with the Horse and having seen the horse several times in the Prosecutor’s Field at New Shoreham both before and since the Robbery.
Call the Postboy . . .
The Brief, from the trial not having been proceeded with, is not endorsed to any Counsel, but is marked “Brooker, Brighton,” the original of the firm, Messrs. Brooker and Penfold, now Messrs. Penfold and Son, solicitors.
Phœbe Hassell, the person who was chiefly instrumental in bringing Rook and Howell to justice, was a very celebrated character. She was born at Stepney, London, in March, 1713, of respectable parents, named Smith. Of her early life little is known; but the first incident of her remarkable career, as related by herself to the compiler of this work, was her falling in love with Samuel Golding, a private in the regiment known as Kirke’s Lambs. Phœbe Smith then was but fifteen years of age, being, as she used to remark, a fine lass for her years. Golding’s regiment being ordered to the West Indies in 1728, such was Phœbe’s attachment for him, that, donning the garb of a man, she enlisted into the 5th regiment of Foot, commanded by General Pearce, then under orders, also for the West Indies, and embarked after him. There she served for five years without discovering herself to any one. She was likewise at Monserrat, and would have been in the action there, but her regiment did not reach the island till after the battle was over. Soon after her return to England her regiment was ordered to join the forces under the Duke of Cumberland, on the continent, and she was present at the battle of Fontenoy, May 1st, 1745, when she received a bayonet wound in her arm. Golding’s and her regiment were afterwards at Gibraltar, where he got wounded, and was then invalided home to Plymouth. Phœbe then informed the Lady of General Pearce of her sex and story, obtained her discharge, and was immediately sent to England. She went to the military hospital at Plymouth, with letters of recommendation from her late Colonel, and there nursed Golding; and when he came out of the hospital they were married, and lived happily together for more than 20 years. Golding had a pension from Chelsea.
After but a short widowhood, she married William Hassell, of whom little is known beyond what is recorded in the parish book of Brighton; extracts from which will show that in 1792 they were in poverty, as at a meeting of the Churchwardens and Overseers, held at the Castle Tavern, on the 5th of December that year, it was:—“Ordered that Phœbe, the wife of William Hassell, be paid three guineas to get their bed and netts, which they had pledged to pay Dr. Henderson for medicine.”
Hassell died about this period, and Phœbe then, by the assistance of a few of the inhabitants, purchased a donkey, and travelled with fish and other commodities to the villages westward; and it was on one of these journeys that she obtained the capture of Rook and Howell for robbing the mail.
The following minute appears in the Vestry book:—
1797.—20th May, at a meeting of the Churchwardens and Overseers held at the Hen and Chickens, (now the Running Horse, King Street)—Ordered, that Phœbe Hassell’s rent be paid from the present time, and that her weekly allowance be discontinued.
In the early part of the present century the infirmities of age began to tell upon her, and, being no longer able to get about the country, she was taken into Brighton Workhouse; from which, however, at her own request, she was discharged in August, 1806, as a minute of the vestry held on the 14th of that month states:—“That Phœbe Hassell be allowed a pair of stockings and one change on leaving the poor-house.”
After this period she obtained a subsistence by selling fruit, bulls-eyes, pin-cushions, &c., at the bottom of the Marine Parade, near Old Steine Street, where, in sunny weather, she used to sit in a chair with her basket of wares beside her, and obtained a good amount of custom. Her costume would, at the present day, form a great attraction. She wore a brown serge dress, a white apron,—always clean,—a black cloth cloak with a hood, surmounted by a red spotted with white handkerchief. Her head-dress was a black antique shaped bonnet over a mob cap. Her shoes were for service and not look, without any regard to “rights and lefts;” and her hands and arms were usually encased in a pair of long woollen mittens. Her walking-stick, now in the possession of Mr. Edward Blaker, of Portslade, was a serviceable piece of oak.
Hone, in The Year Book, date, Sept. 22, 1821, says, “I saw this woman to-day in her bed, to which she is confined from having lost the use of her limbs. She has even now, old and withered as she is, a fine character of countenance, and I should judge, from her present appearance, must have had a fine though perhaps masculine style of head when young. I have seen many a woman, at the age of sixty or seventy look older than she does under the load of 106 years of human life. Her checks are round, and seem firm, though ploughed with many a small wrinkle. Her eyes, though the sight is gone, are large and well formed. As soon as it was announced that somebody had come to see her, she broke the silence of her solitary thoughts and spoke. She began in a complaining tone, as if the remains of a strong and restless spirit were impatient of the prison of a decaying and weak body. ‘Other people die and I cannot,’ she said. Upon exciting the recollection of her former days, her energy seemed roused, and she spoke with emphasis. Her voice was strong for an old person, and I could easily believe her when, upon being asked if her sex was not in danger of being discovered by her voice, she replied that she always had a strong and manly voice. She appeared to take a pride in having kept her secret, declaring that she told it to no man, woman, or child, during the time she was in the army; ‘for you know, Sir, a drunken man and a child always tell the truth. But I told my secret to the ground. I dug a hole that would hold a gallon, and whispered it there.’ While I was with her the flies annoyed her extremely: she drove them away with a fan, and said they seemed to smell her out as one that was going to the grave. She showed me a wound she had received in her elbow by a bayonet. She lamented the error of her former ways, but excused it by saying, ‘when you are at Rome, you must do as Rome does.’ When she could not distinctly hear what was said, she raised herself in the bed and thrust her head forward with impatient energy. She said, when the King, George IV,—saw her, he called her ‘a jolly old fellow.’ Though blind, she could discern a glimmering light, and I was told would frequently state the time of day by the effect of light.”
Phœbe had nine children, but none of them attained any age except the eldest son, who was a sailor, but she had neither seen nor heard of him for many years prior to her decease.
On the 12th of August, 1814, at the festival which took place at the Royal Cricket Ground, to commemorate the peace on Napoleon Buonaparte retiring to Elba, Phœbe, as the “Oldest Inhabitant,” sat on the left of the Vicar, the Rev. Robert Carr, and was an interesting object, then 99 years of age, and many presents in silver and one pound notes found their way to her from the opulent and enquiring part of the crowd. On the celebration of the Coronation of George IV., Phœbe, at the age of 107, and totally blind, took part in the ceremonies, and was present on the Level in a carriage with the Rev. B. Carr, (Vicar), and cheerfully joined in the National Anthem. This incident brought her into great notoriety; and several ladies being struck with her appearance, and pleased with the respectable character she bore, raised a subscription, each subscriber being presented with Phœbe’s likeness, beneath which was inscribed, “An Industrious Woman living at Brighton, with very slender means of Support, which she can only earn by selling the contents of her basket, for whose assistance this Etching is sold.”
For some few years previous to her decease, which took place on the 12th of December, 1821, she was allowed half-a-guinea a-week by the King. It is related that His Majesty offered her a guinea a-week, but she refused it, saying that half that sum was enough to maintain her.
Phœbe, in support of a good old Sussex custom, regularly, on St. Thomas’s Day, 21st of December, went out “Gooding,” visiting well-to-do parishioners, to gossip upon the past, over hot elderberry wine and plum cake, and to receive doles, either in money or materials, to furnish home comforts for the celebration of the festivities of Christmas. One of her places of call was the residence of Mr. Robert Ackerson, where the author of this book has many a time and oft heard the old female warrior tell of her deeds of arms. She made a prediction that the wife of Mr. Ackerson would live to a good old age; and so it came to pass, as, on Friday, the 2nd of February, 1855, she expired, being then in her 97th year. [181] On the St. Thomas’s Day previous to her decease, not one of her pensioners, as she termed them, paid her a visit, they having all died off, gone as she said, after Old Phœbe, and she felt assured that she then should soon follow.
Mr. Hyam Lewis, father of Mr. Benjamin Lewis, silversmith and jeweller, Ship Street, erected the tombstone in the Old Churchyard, which marks the spot where the remains of Phœbe are deposited.
No part of Brighton has undergone so many changes during the last century as the Steine, which was at first the drying-ground for fishermen’s nets and the “laying-up” place for such boats as were not in use at particular fishing seasons of the year. The term Steine is of Flemish origin, and is derived from Ein, Stein, or Steen, a rock, as at the time when the town received its Flemish colony, the southern extremity of the valley in which Brighton lay was edged and protected from the sea by a ledge of chalk rocks, and from these the name Steine, or rocky, was given to the field or meadow, which was called the Steine Field. The word is generally, but erroneously written Steine, in conformity with the old corrupt spelling of the Normans and Normanized English in this country. “The final e,” says Paul Dunvan, “which our ancestors borrowed from the French language, was apposite to the genius and usage of the Saxon and Teutonic: and in the modern English language, the use of it is admissible in words of Saxon origin, only to denote the elongation of the preceding vowel, or the liquidity of the letter g. The obvious power, therefore, of the dipthong ei makes the attendance of this Norman lackey after the Teutonic noun, Stein, or Steen, totally unnecessary.” The addition of the final e is a modern innovation, as on the Court Rolls of a Court Baron, held for the Manor of Brighthelmston-Lewes, is the following entry:—“March (27 Elizabeth) it is ordered, that no hog go unringed on the Stein, where nets lie, under a penalty of eight-pence toties quoties.”
In 1779, according to a map of that date, the only building on the east side of the Steine, was Thomas’s Library; just to the north-west of which, on the grass, was a slight erection much after the style of the judge’s stand at races. This structure was the orchestra, in which the town band, of three performers, discoursed their music under their leader, Mr. Anthony Crook, whose instrument was the trombone. The side of the hill whereon St. James’s Street, Edward Street, and the numerous streets which swell the town to the east and north-east now stand, was, “a delightful and rich tract of down, arable and pasture:” and in an old print of Brighthelmston, in 1765, reapers are represented employed in cutting and teams of oxen in carrying the crops on the ground now occupied by the Marine Parade, Grand Parade, &c. Thomas’s Library was the building now modernized and in the occupation of the Electric Telegraph Company. The Steine at that period was of much larger dimensions than at present. In Godwin’s rental mention is made of “the common pound of Brighthelston manor, together with a cottage and garden adjoining the said pound, situate on the Steine on the west side of East Street;” and in the same rental a bowling-green on the Steine is occasionally mentioned.
In tempestuous weather and during the winter, the boats of the fishermen were hauled up for safety on the Steine. A Diarist, dating his memorandum, Wednesday, September 8th, 1778, says, “An old well is half open among the boats; a little child has just now waddled off the Steyne towards it. I ran to prevent mischief, and succeeded.—Have remonstrated against this dangerous neglect in vain. There are one dry and two wet wells open thereabouts. When a child of fortune or two shall have been lost therein, the wells may be boarded over.—The Commissioners by the Act have sufficient powers, and collect money enough to answer its purposes; yet the Cliff-side is all along covered with rubbish, offensive to the sight and smell. Indeed, there is no occasion to search much for nuisances, obstructions, and inconveniences, in this place.—Mem.—Since the above complaint, some loose boards have been laid across one of the wet wells.”
In the time of Elizabeth, and even at a more recent date, the inhabitants were wholly supplied with water from the public wells, which were town property, under the control of the Lords of the different Manors. Thus, at a Court Baron held for the Manor of Brighthelmston-Lewes, in October (20 Elizabeth) a bye-law was made that nothing should be laid within four feet of any well within the said Manor. On the Court Rolls, also, of the same Manor, appears the following:—“April (19 Jac.) it is ordered at the Court-Leet, that a building which Richard Scrase, gentleman, has erected over the common well in the upper end of North Street, shall not convey to the said Scrase, or his heirs, any right in the said well, more than as an inhabitant.” This well remained in use till within the last few years, and was known as the Unicorn Yard well, and was situate in the present space immediately in front of Blaber’s eating-house, at the south end of Windsor Street. Another well was in West Street, in the water channel before the premises now occupied by Mr. Feldwick, cabinet maker. The curb of it was raised, on a brick-work platform, around which was the main watercourse of the street. About eighty years ago, in consequence of the well becoming an impediment to the increased traffic in the street, and being but little used, it was domed over, and for some years a square stone at the edge of the pavement marked its site. The other town wells still in use by means of pumps, are on the Knab; in East Street, by the Sussex Arms, formerly the Spread Eagle; in Market Street, opposite Payne’s Hotel; and in Pool Valley, adjoining the Duke of Wellington Inn. The well situate just without the poultry portion of the Market, and likewise the one in Little East Street, from being put out of use by the service of the Water Company, have been closed over, as has also the great northern well which but a few years since supplied a large tank that was erected on the area between St. Peter’s Church Enclosure and the Level, for the street watering service. The remaining town wells and their pumping gear, now out of use, are situate, one at the Grafton Street Police Station, and the other under the roadway at the entrance to the Pier Esplanade, at the bottom of the Steine. The pump of the last mentioned well, about forty years since, was worked by a donkey, which traversed, “on the getting up stairs” principle, the interior of a wheel that was fitted to the groyne. On a brisk March day, however, when the wind was blowing up more of the dust of that month than is proverbially required to be equal in worth with a king’s ransom, while the machinery was working under the influence of the usual propelling power, Old Father Neptune, as if envious of the poor animal’s dominion over the aqueous element, mounted a foaming billow and rushed into the wheel after the donkey. Neddy’s good genius, who was in constant attendance upon him,—just to sharpen his appetite for work when he felt disposed for a rest,—luckily superseded the design of the mythological sovereign of the deep, by whipping-out his quadruped friend, before the turbulent king could lash around him. This increased the rage of Neptune, who, on retiring to his deep abode, bodily tore away the wheel and its fixings.
Previous to the supply from the town pumps, the water for the streets was obtained from the sea. The water carts then were of the most primitive description, and consisted of barrels on wheels, similar to those now in use for the conveyance of water upon farms. But they had in addition, fixed at the backs of them, an oblong perforated box each, for the distribution of the water, which was supplied from the barrels by pulling out plugs of wood that projected into the boxes. The barrels were filled by backing them some distance into the sea, when the water was lifted into funnels fitted to the bung holes, by a species of scoop at the end of a pole, the operator of this intelligent process the while, standing on the shafts of the carts, or Bacchus like, and hare-legged, bestriding the barrels.
The Steine then was entirely open, and was a country walk for visitors. That is to say, in the Spring, Summer, and Autumn; as in Winter time, from its then lying very hollow, the southern part was generally flooded, and in severe weather the sheet of ice which was there formed was a general rendezvous for sliding and skating. When fashion made the Steine a place of public resort, attention was paid by the town authorities, to make it in some degree, attractive. The ground was made level, and verdure was encouraged to ornament it. On it the old Duke of Cumberland, of Fontenoy, delighted to turn out the stag and hunt the bounding deer, as the place was entirely open to the full extent of the Downs; and the inhabitants were gratified with repeated spectacles of the kind, sometimes as often as twice or thrice in a season.
Sports of a less aristocratic character sometimes took place here, as the following extract from the Morning Herald will verify:—
1805, September 11th.—A pony race on the Level, this morning afforded much diversion to a very numerous assemblage of spectators. After this, donkey races took place: seven started for the first heat, and what is very singular, two, on this starting, ran a dead heat; a circumstance, probably, with quadrupeds of this sluggish tribe, never recorded in the annals of sporting. The donkies having performed their task, the company removed to the Steyne, to the South, where jumping in sacks, and a jingling match kept hilarity alive for about two hours longer.
There were Jenkinses of the Press even at this period, who watched with keen eye the doings of royalty, and of the nobility, as will be seen by the following extracts:—
Morning Herald, August 9, 1805.—This morning, the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Sussex honoured the Steyne Promenade with their presence, and for a short time before dinner, rode on horseback. Mr. Mellish drove Lord Barrymore’s curricle two or three times round the Steyne, this morning. The quartern loaf here, now sells for one shilling and six pence.
August 19th.—The Duke of Sussex rode out in an open barouche and amused himself in smoking a pipe.
The following are also extracts from a private diary kept in 1805:—
August 4th.—The Cliff Parade, from the South end of the Steine to the unfinished Crescent, displayed much genteel company this afternoon. The Cyprian Corps have much increased in number within the last two or three days. We have now little French Milliners in every part of the town.
August 27th.—Townshend and Sayers, two Bow Street officers, arrived here this morning, in quest of an individual who has been guilty of a burglary in the metropolis. They had been here but a short time when the object they were in search of, in a laced livery, was descried by them in the act of crossing the Steine. They took him into custody, and having ornamented his wrists with a pair of iron ruffles, they bore him off in triumph to London.
September 19th.—About half-past one o’clock the Prince of Wales returned from a walk to the west of the Steine, to the Pavilion. His Royal Highness, who was habited in a black coat and waistcoat, and nankeen pantaloons, appeared rather lame from the recent hurt he had received in his ankle. He walked with a stick, of sufficient dimensions occasionally to bear his weight.
September 26th.—The Duke of Clarence was to-day, for a short time, on the Steine. Some of His Highness’s sons are at this time here, and were under the military instructions of a sergeant of the South Gloucester Militia this morning on the Pavilion lawn.
The Steine was first partially enclosed with common hurdles; then it was partly paved and railed in. At last the present massive iron railings were erected. But not as they at present stand. They surrounded a much larger area, and the lamp-posts were the main standards, the rails being fastened in them. At that period the paving around the Steine, under the then Town Surveyor, Mr. Thomas Harman, was considered a masterpiece of the art of paving in brick. Previous to this improvement, there was no carriage road completely round the Steine, vehicles of every description, from Castle Square to Prince’s Street, having to pass down the west of the Steine and Pool Valley, along at the back of the York Hotel, up the east of the Steine, and by way of the back of (now) the Telegraph Office, down St. James’s Street, and then along by the eastern side of the north Steine, as posts erected across from the Castle Tavern to the Steine railings admitted only of foot-traffic, and the coaches for London and Lewes went from Castle Square by way of North Street, New Road, Church Street, &c. The road across from Castle Square to St. James’s Street was effected on Easter Monday, March 31st, 1834, and appeared to be a work of magic, as the long-desired improvement had met with opposition from parties who feared the alteration would affect their interest in property from which the traffic would be diverted. The resolution was passed by the Commissioners, and on the day above-mentioned, the “trick” was done, although the opposition hastened to town to procure an injunction from the Lord Chancellor; as it so happened, that it was the Easter vacation, so his Lordship could not he approached till all the alterations had been performed. On the reinstating of the iron railings, the lamp-posts were placed at the edge of the pavement, as hitherto, half of the light from the lamps had been cast on the space within the railings, where it was not required. The posts still show the holes through which the iron railings passed when they were in their original position.
The chief modern features on the Old Steine are the statue of George IV., the Fountain, and the Russian guns. The first was put up on the 11th of October, 1828. The idea of its erection originated with a party of tradesmen, who were accustomed to assemble nightly at the King’s Arms, George Street; but a subscription which remained open for more than eight years and a half did not provide the sum, £3,000, agreed to be paid Chantry for his artistic skill. The Fountain, known as the Victoria Fountain, was also erected by subscription, procured through the indefatigable exertions of Mr. Cordy Burrows, to whom also the credit is due for the planting of the Steines with flowers and trees. The Fountain was inaugurated on the 25th of May, 1846. The design of the structure was furnished by Mr. Henry Wilds, the model of the dolphins by Mr. William Pepper, and the ironwork was cast at the Eagle Foundry. The rock-work upon which the dolphins rest is formed of huge sand-stones, called in Wiltshire and Berkshire, “Grey Weathers,” and breccia, or pudding-stone, which for lengthened periods had lain in Goldstone Bottom, on the Dyke Road, and fields adjacent, by many persons considered to be the remains of Druidical temples or altars. But such a notion must be fallacious, as, at a very recent date, similar accumulations of sand-stone have been dug up about the western part of Brighton, where the soil exhibits many irregularities which geologists are unable to account for. An instance of this occurred in digging out the ground for the foundation of the tower of All Saints’ Church, Buckingham Place, the soil to a considerable depth at one particular spot, being so loose and treacherous that great ingenuity and care had to be observed—attended with great expense,—by Messrs. Cheesman and Son, the builders, to make the foundation secure. A stone also, of the character termed Druidical cromlech, was dug out while preparing for the foundation of the present Brighton Workhouse, and was used for the corner stone of the building. In excavating the ground likewise, in 1823, for laying in the gas-pipes across the Steine, from Castle Square to the corner of the Marine Parade, huge unshapen blocks of a like character were turned up. The last memento on the Steine, the Russian guns, are relics of the siege of Sebastopol.
The old maps shew a piece of water on the Steine, between the Castle Tavern and the Pavilion, formed by the spring which rose at Patcham and used to flow by the Pool—Pool Valley. In the year 1793, the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Marlborough, whose house stood at the north end of the Marine Pavilion, made an arched sewer along the Steine, to carry away this water into the sea, and, in consideration of the expense and improvement, the Lords of the Manor, with consent of the homage, gave his Royal Highness and the Duke permission to rail in or enclose a certain portion of the Steine, adjoining their houses respectively, but never to build on or encumber it with any thing that might obstruct the prospect, or in any other way be a nuisance to the Steine. A barn which stood at this spot, the property of Mr. Howell, as shewn in the view of the Steine, 1765, was moved, at the request of the Prince of Wales, to the top of Church Street, into the field whereon also stood the Infantry Barracks Hospital, a wooden building that occupied the site of the Hanover Chapel Burial Ground. There were two main entrances to the sewer. One was about the centre of the road,—along which the water channel ran,—opposite the Pavilion Parade; and the other was in the roadway immediately to the east of the entrance to Castle Square from the Steine. Each was protected by a wooden railing in a triangular form. The sewer discharged itself by means of a square wooden trunk at the back of Williams’s Baths, now the south front of the Lion Mansion.
In 1785–6, the first houses on the South Parade, the east side of the Steine south of St. James’s Street, began to be erected, and in a few years the whole of them, as well as the extensive range of buildings which forms the North Parade, were completed.
Mrs. Fitzherbert’s mansion, now the residence of W. Furner, Esq., the Judge of the County Court of this district, adjoining the present mansion of Captain Thellusson, was built in 1804. On the site now occupied by the square block of buildings that form the north-east corner of Castle Square, about forty years since, stood the Castle Tavern, which had been one of the chief rendezvous of royalty, the nobility, and the gentry. It was originally a very small house, but being considered the best in the town for a tavern, it was purchased by Mr. Shergold, who opened it under the sign of the Castle, in 1755. Such was its success, in consequence of the increase of visitors to the town, that, in 1776, Messrs. Tilt and Best joined him in partnership, and the premises were greatly extended. In 1790, the other parties having given up the business, Mr. Tilt carried on the undertaking, and he was succeeded by his widow. In 1814, Messrs. Gilburd and Harryett became the proprietors. It attained the acme of its celebrity when in the hands of Mr. Tilt, who attached to the establishment an elegant suite of Assembly and Concert Rooms, built with great taste and judgment by Mr. Crunden, of Park Street, London, in 1776. The Ball Room was rectangular, 80 feet by 40 feet, with recesses at each end and side, 16 feet by 4 feet, decorated with columns corresponding with the pilasters which were continued round the room, dividing the sides and ends into a variety of compartments, ornamented with paintings from the Admirander and the Vatican, representing a portion of the story of Cupid and Psyche, and the Aldrobrandini marriage; with air-nymphs and divers other figures, in the ancient grotesque style. The ceiling was curved, and formed an arch of one fifth of the height of the room, which was 35 feet. Over the entablature, at each end of the room, was a large painting; the one a representation of Aurora, and the other a figure of Nox. In 1814, a beautifully toned organ by Flight and Robson was erected at the north end of the room.
In the season, from August to March, Assemblies were held every Monday. These were under the management of Masters of the Ceremonies, the first of whom were, in 1805, Mr. Yart at the Old Ship, and Mr. William Wade at the Castle. They were succeeded by Mr. J. S. Forth, in 1808. He acted in the same capacity at the Old Ship and the Castle Assemblies. Lieut.-Col. Eld succeeded Mr. Forth, and at his decease, December 22nd, 1855, the office fell into disuse; in fact, for some years previous to the decease of the Colonel his services were rarely required, the progress of the age having rendered such an office null and void. The duties of the Masters of the Ceremonies consisted in watching minutely the arrival of the nobility and gentry. For this purpose he attended the Libraries and Hotels regularly once or more a-day to copy the lists of the latest visitors, at whose addresses he then called and left his card, a hint that they should enter their names in his book, which lay at the principal places of fashionable resort, and with each entry deposit a guinea with the custodian of the M.C.’s book, who received a per centage for his trouble and attention. The payment of the fee ensured a mutual recognition upon all occasions of meeting between the giver and the receiver during that visit of the donor at Brighton, and, on the occasions of balls and assemblies, he was expected to make all the necessary arrangements, and for dances provide all unprovided ladies and gentlemen with partners. Masters of the Ceremonies originated at a period when balls and routs terminated at ten o’clock in the evening, when “We won’t go home till morning,” had not come into vogue, but the sedan chair of “my lady” was in punctual attendance, and the fair burden was wafted home to admit of repose before midnight, and to give the sterner sex an opportunity for a carouse or a spree.
The following is an extract from a private diary:—“July 30th, 1805. This evening, at nine o’clock, the first assembly of the season, the Grand Rose Ball, was held at the Castle Inn, under the patronage of the Prince of Wales. The Ball Room is large, lofty, and noble, and commands a full view of the Steyne; looks, also, into the Pavilion Gardens, the beautiful shrubberies of which are worthy of the Royal resident. The ceiling forms an arch, and is painted to represent the rising sun. Every part of the room is ornamented with various masterly paintings of classical antiquity. It was lighted up in a superior style, suited to the dignity of the guests, with three cut-glass chandeliers, 100 lights, and forty lustres and side-lights. The Prince entered the room at half-past nine, and at ten o’clock the Ball opened.”
During the erection of the Royal Stables, in Church Street, in 1809, a carpenter, who lived in Jew Street, named John Butcher, uncle to Mr. Butcher, of the present firm, Messrs. Cheesman and Butcher, chinamen, North Street, accidentally fell and injured himself. Upon his recovery, not being able to resume the heavy work of his trade, he constructed a machine of a similar make to the sedan chair, and placed it upon four wheels. It was drawn by hand, in the same manner as Bath chairs, while an assistant, when the person being conveyed was heavy, pushed behind. Its introduction was quite a favourite feature amongst the nobility, and a second fly, in consequence, was soon constructed. These two vehicles were extensively patronized by the Prince of Wales and his noble companions; and from being employed by them on special occasions of a midnight “lark,” they received the name of “Fly-by-nights,” and soon entirely superseded sedan-chairs, except for invalids on their conveyance to and from the Baths. Butcher, from the great success which attended his project, being desirous that his flys should have a more elegant appearance than his ability in the ornamental could effect, sent one of them, for the purpose of being repainted and varnished, to Mr. Blaker, coach-maker, Regent Street, and he, having an eye to business, purloined the design, and improved upon it by making two or three to be drawn by horses. The most remarkable vehicle of this description, for the conveyance of one passenger only, was that made for Mr. George Battcock, surgeon, who died on the 3rd of February last. It was called Dr. Battcock’s “Pill Box.”
When George IV. expressed a desire of converting the Castle Assembly Room into a Chapel to be attached to the Royal Pavilion, the fee simple of it was transferred to his Majesty, and as a tavern attached to a place of divine worship would be a great incongruity, the transfer of the license of the Castle was made to premises in Steine Place, the Royal York Hotel, so designated in reference to the Royal Duke, Frederick, whose permission for the name was applied for and obtained from his Royal Highness. The house was opened by Mr. Sheppard.
The Royal Albion Hotel, which has so conspicuous a position to the south of the Steine, occupies the spot whereon formerly stood Russell House, once the residence of Dr. Russell, and afterwards of the Duke of Cumberland. In 1805, it was the residence of Miss Johnson. It stood abruptly to the sea, the waves in stormy weather laving the brick boundary wall to the south. Immediately under its east wall was Haines’s Repository for toys, where, too, was also an apartment in which were exhibited the wonders of the Camera Obscura. The Junction Road now occupies the site; it was a favourite lounge with visitors. The latter years of Russell House were of a remarkable character, some portion of it being devoted by its owner, Mr. John Colbatch, to copper-plate printing; while in the largest apartment the wonders of Khia Khan Khruse, the chief of the Indian Jugglers, were exhibited, in the Autumn of 1822. The building eventually had a most neglected appearance, and was pulled down. The purchase of the space then was contemplated by the town, in order to keep open the southern extremity of the Steine to the sea. Mr. Colbatch required £6,000 for it, a sum which the Town Commissioners assented to give; but after numerous delays the bargain was off, and soon the present noble building rose to shut out the southern aspect from the Steine.
In 1792, during the Revolution which deluged France in its own blood, there was a great influx of refugees from Dieppe to Brighton, to escape the savage and unrelenting fury of their persecutors. On the 29th of August, that year, the Marchioness of Beaule landed at the bottom of the Steine, having paid two hundred guineas at Dieppe, for her passage across, and even then she was under the necessity of appearing in the dress of a sailor, and as such she assisted the crew during the whole voyage, not only to disguise herself, but in order to bring with her, undiscovered, a favourite female, whom she conveyed on board in a trunk, in which holes were bored to give her air. His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, with Mrs. Fitzherbert and Miss Isabella Pigot, received them on landing, and the Prince escorted them to the Earl of Clermont’s, where tea was provided for His Royal Highness and twenty of his friends. On the 20th of September, two packets landed several persons of distinction, amongst whom were the Archbishop of Aix, and Count Bridges, one of the household of the hapless Louis XVI. Many priests were amongst the refugees, for the relief of whom subscriptions to a considerable amount were made, for the purpose of relieving their immediate necessities, and to enable them to pursue their journey to London. On Wednesday, October 20th, thirty-seven nuns, in the habit of their order, were landed near Shoreham from the Prince of Wales packet, commanded by Captain Burton. Their destination was Brussels, where a convent was being prepared for them. It had been intended that they should disembark at Brighton, but the roughness of the sea prevented it. Captain Burton’s daughter was married to Mr. William Wigney, a north countryman, who had then recently settled in Brighton, in North Street, where he kept a linen-draper’s shop. The house,—which he purchased of Lord Leslie, afterwards Lord Rother, who married Henrietta Ann, daughter of the first Earl of Chichester,—he paid for in French money, which he had received in exchange for English coin from the refugees brought over by his father-in-law. It is related of him that he was not over scrupulous in the way of business, of passing half-franc pieces for sixpences to the unwary. He was afterwards the head of the firm of Messrs. Wigney, Rickman, and Co., bankers, Steine Lane.
No part of Brighton has had a more varied character than the Steine. From being the general depository of the materials of the aborigines, for fishing, it became the place of rendezvous for the nobility and gentry, the beaux and belles delighting to promenade there, expend their small talk, and listen to the strains of the military bands which daily played upon some portion of it. Even upon Sunday afternoons, so recently as twenty-three years since, the sounds of music attracted immense crowds of the inhabitants and visitors there. Frequent innovations, however, upon its space having taken place, and the southern walks along the whole front of the town, having, by their extension and commodiousness, become the fashionable resort, the Steine has quieted down to a thoroughfare that connects the east with the west portion of the town, and there is a contentment that it shall remain an important lung of the borough.
During the agitation for the Reform Bill, when self-esteemed politicians tried their ’prentice voice upon stump oratory, the Steine was the famous arena for their eloquence. Where now, on gala days, the triple rampant dolphins, which support on their entwined tails the basins of the fountain, belave themselves, a waggon has formed the vehicle for the conveyance of political sentiments under the guise of Toryism, Whigism, Chartism, or any other ism that the whim, rage, or fashion of the day has chanced to assume.
The most memorable event on the Steine was the dinner given there on the 3rd of September, 1830, to the children of the various charity schools in the town, to commemorate the first visit of William IV. and Queen Adelaide to Brighton. Their Majesties arrived on the previous Monday, great preparations having been made for their reception, triumphal arches and other erections forming emblems of rejoicing throughout the space from the extreme north of the town, on the London Road, to the entrance of the Pavilion Grounds. Probably, now, when there is so great a facility for the transmission of large masses of people by means of the railway, the numbers of persons who came into the town on the occasion, would be considered of little moment; but then the quantity was estimated as vast, vehicles of every description arriving in the town, heavily laden with human beings, not only from all parts of the county, but even the distance of two hundred miles was not considered too great to travel in order to witness the imposing sight. For more than a week prior to the appointed day, numbers of persons had arrived in the town to ensure being present; and lodgings of every description were seized with avidity, at—to use a commercial term—long prices. The stage coaches from London,—many of which were specially placed on the road to meet the demands,—were crowded to excess at extra fares; and the vans and spring waggons—as they were termed—nightly bore heavy freights of provisions to meet the anticipated rapid consumption.
Their Majesties arrived shortly after five o’clock, and were met by the High Constable, the Clergy, and a Committee of the principal inhabitants, the children of the various schools forming a line along the route through which the royal carriages passed. The waving of handkerchiefs by the ladies from the balconies, the shouts and huzzas of the people, the roaring of cannon, the ringing of bells, the music of various bands, the tramp of horses, the rattling of carriages, the floating of hundreds of flags and banners, formed altogether a spectacle that had never been previously, nor has it been since, equalled in Brighton. The crowning feature of the day was a structure in the form of a triumphal arch, which was of vast proportions, fifty feet in height, the opening of the arch having a span of twenty-five feet, and the whole was clothed with evergreens and flowers. The top was covered with a profusion of flags and streamers, from the Hyperion frigate, then stationed at Newhaven, in the midst of which flaunted the Standard of England. A body of sailors, belonging to the Coast Blockade service, dressed in blue jackets and white trousers, were arranged pyramidically on the top, and gave a crowning character to the spectacle, as they gave three hearty cheers for the “Sailor King.” They were seventy in number, supplied by Captain Mingaye, of the Hyperion. The structure was crowded with gaily dressed ladies, and the galleries of the archway were filled with the girls of Swan Downer’s Charity School, and those of the National School, who at that time wore green dresses and white mob caps. In the evening the town was one blaze of light from a general illumination.
The preparations for dining the children were completed by noon on Friday. Three rows of tables, with benches on each side, were ranged round the whole area of the southern division of the Steine, which at that time was one grass plot, to which the spectators were admitted by tickets. The centre of the lawn was left entirely open, no persons being allowed upon that portion except the committee of management and the bands of the Horse and Foot Guards. At the southern extremity of this open space was a capacious marquee, erected for the accommodation of their Majesties. The interior was laid out very tastefully, and refreshments were prepared. At its entrance waved the two large town flags, supported by two of the Committee in blue sashes. Across the pavement between the two divisions of the Steine a space was boarded off, as also, across the northern division, and thence to the private entrance of the Pavilion at the north end of the Steine. At this period posts and rails skirted the outer edge of the pavement around the whole of the Steine.
The spectators began to assemble on the pavement about one o’clock, at which time the whole circumference outside the fence was belted with carriages, some of which had taken up their position at an early hour in the morning. The parade of the children to the grounds was a most pleasing sight, their general cleanliness and their appearance of health and happiness, imparting a most gratifying charm to the scene. By two o’clock the whole of the children were seated, and the amphitheatre of the Steine, gradually rising from the children at the tables to the spectators that girted them, and then on to the carriages covered with persons, and beyond that the thousands which crowded the windows, balconies, and the very roofs of the houses that bound the Steine, afforded a spectacle far more imposing than the most vivid imagination can conceive.