CHAPTER XVI.

THE OLD CHURCHYARDS.

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.

According to the minutes of a Vestry Meeting held March 16th, 1791, it was: "Ordered that the Clerk of the Vestry do make enquiry whether the minister of the parish has a right to demand a fee for breaking the ground on the burial of a parishioner." This order was made in consequence of a dispute upon the point, between the inhabitants and the Vicar, the Rev. Thomas Hudson.

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:--

PHOEBE HESSEL, Who was born at Stepney, in the Year, 1713.

She served for many years as a Private Soldier in the Fifth Regiment of Foot in different parts of Europe, and in the year 1745 fought under the command of the Duke of Cumberland, at the battle of Fontenoy, Where she received a Bayonet Wound in her Arm.

Her long life, which commenced in the Reign of Queen ANNE, extended to that of King GEORGE IV., By whose munificence she received comfort and support in her latter days. She died at Brighton, where she had long resided, December 12th, 1821, aged 108.

The remains of Corporal Staines, a marine who fought under Nelson, at Copenhagen, lie at the foot of old Phoebe'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.

The special incident referred to in Tettersell's life is recorded in another part of this book. One of the most remarkable tombs was that of the Rev. John Bolt, the vicar of Brighton, who died on the 2nd of November, 1669. It stood at the north-east corner of the Chancel. Not a vestige of the tomb now remains. The main structure of it was brick, and the covering stone was a slab of perriwinkle or Sussex marble: and so great a curiosity was it that it was in no way deemed a sacrilege by the casual passer-by, to knock off a piece with a flint, or even a hammer, for its novelty's sake. Its final demolition took place in 1853, when that and other sacred depositories of the dead--and the remains of the dead too,--were ruthlessly removed to enlarge the church, upon its then restoration. The slab bore the following inscription:--

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.

Perhaps the most affecting record of the uncertainty of life, is that on the tomb of Robert Augustus Bedford. It is in what is termed the old ground, not far from the poplar tree which marks the spot where once was a well. This well and a wall which went direct north to Church Street, formed the west boundary of a garden that was consecrated as an additional piece of ground for burial, in January, 1818, by the Bishop of Exeter, and about that spot was appropriated for the burial of paupers, and likewise for soldiers; as at that time the Hospital of the Infantry Barracks occupied the site of the present Hanover Chapel burial ground. The inscription--now mostly obliterated,--is as follows:--

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:--

In testimony of the Faithful and zealous Services of Alice Pickstock. Matron of the Brighton Workhouse, and to perpetuate the recollection of her many benevolent and pious offices to the sick and poor of this Parish,

This stone is erected by the Directors and Guardians and others, in the year of Our Lord MDCCCXLIII.

"I bowed down heavily as one that mourneth for his mother."--Psalm xxxv., 14 v.

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.

To the west of the main entrance from North Street, opposite Wykeham Terrace, is the vault of Mr. Weiss, formerly a surgical instrument maker, Charing-cross, London. His remains are deposited in this vault, his body prior to being screwed down in the coffin, having, by express desire in his will, been pierced at the heart by an instrument which he made expressly for the purpose. His funeral took place with the weapon in him, a special legacy being left to the surgeon, Mr. Benjamin Vallance, who complied with the request, for performing the duty, Mr. Weiss having a dread of being buried alive.

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:--

ST. NICHOLAS GALLEY.

"Long had raged the bloody feud between the Lords of Pevensey Castle and the Earls de Warrene, Lords of Lewes; when, early one bright May morning, the warder of Lewes Castle, from the northern turret blew loud his horn. The lady of Earl de Warrene hastened to the turret's height, her infant first-born son kerchiefed on her arm. From thence she viewed the dread conflict which was raging with all the fury of inveterate foes, on Mount Caburn's shelving sides. Lord Pevensey, on his white steed, was seen leading his followers down the hill; Earl de Warrene was urging his men to withstand the charge. In an instant both parties commingled; the strife was desperate, but of short duration. Lord Pevensey, having the vantage ground, drove Earl de Warrene's troops pell-mell down the hill; but the Earl scorned to turn his back upon his foe, and for some time he singly maintained the conflict against a host; until Lord Pevensey came up, flushed with success, and raised his battle-axe to cleave the Earl in twain. It was at this moment that the noble lady of Earl de Warrene, seeing her lord in such imminent hazard, held up her infant son and vowed to Saint Nicholas (the protector of the faithful in dangers) that if her lord's life was spared his son should never wed till he had placed the belt worn by the Holy St. Nicholas, on the Blessed Virgin's tomb, at Byzantium. The saint heard her vow; for the Earl dexterously avoided the blow, and Lord Pevensey, having lost his balance by the exertion, nearly fell from his horse. In the next moment the Earl's sword appeared through his cuirass behind; Lord Pevensey fell dead; his terrified retainers fled in dismay; and Earl de Warrene returned in triumph to the Castle. Full twenty summers had now passed over, and Manfred, Lord of Lewes, the Earl's eldest son, had not yet fulfilled his mother's vow, to visit the Blessed Virgin's tomb. He was betrothed to Lord Bramber's daughter, the gentle Edona--beauteous as the jessamine's bloom--kind as the Zephyr--good and pure as the saints. Full twenty times had the anniversary of Earl de Warrene's victory been celebrated most gallantly in the Castle's kingly hall. Again the guests had assembled there; the wassail bowl went merrily round; the bards sung in highest strains; Lord Manfred led his betrothed to join in the mazy dance; when--whilst all was merriment and joy,--suddenly a wintry dismal blast passed through the hall. The lights were quickly extinguished, the din and clamour of war seemed to assail the castle walls on every side; and whilst the guests stood in darkness and in stupid wonder, in a moment vivid flashes of lightning shot across the richly tapestried walls, and displayed the fight renewed on Mount Caburn's side. The hill and dale were seen distinctly, as if broad day were shining, and the combatants eagerly engaged. But when Lord Pevensey again lifted his battle-axe to strike Earl de Warrene, all disappeared and total darkness ensued; the clamour ceased against the castle walls; lights were brought, but the guests, terrified, gloomily withdrew. On the morrow, Earl de Warrene hither to Brighthelmston, to St. Bartholomew's Chapel came, and by the counsel of the holy fathers, built a ship, gaily trimmed, and named 'St. Nicholas' Galley,' to bear his son to the blessed Virgin's tomb. It was fixed that when he should return from performing his noble mother's vow, then should he wed the fair Edona. The vessel gallantly dashed from Mecheem {109} harbour, and bounded over the yielding wave, making his way for brighter--not happier climes. Lord Manfred safely arrived at Byzantium, and performed his sacred duty. It was noon on the 17th of happy May--another year had rolled its wain--when a sail, bearing the well known pennant of St. Nicholas, was descried off Wordinges (Worthing) point by one of the Fathers of this Chantry. Instantly a messenger was sent to carry the welcome tidings to Earl de Warrene, who, with all his retinue, a train of gallant bearing, his noble lady, the Lord of Bramber with the Lady Edona, and the holy Abbot of the priory, with all his brotherhood, had, in a few hours, assembled beneath the Earl's banner, on the hill where now stands St. Nicholas' Church. The day was fair, the wind was favourable, and the 'St. Nicholas' glided swiftly on her way; the holy fathers sang with cheerful voices. The Earl watched, with beaming eyes, for the signal agreed upon. It was made; shouts rent the air; every face shone with joy, every heart beat with gratitude; when, in a moment, the progress of the vessel was checked; she reeled on her side, and sank before their eyes. She had ran full on the hidden rock off Shore-ham {110a} harbour. The Earl and every soul around him stood motionless; not a word broke the silence of that sad scene. To move was useless. One sad, last, long-drawn sigh burst from Edona, and she fell never more to rise. The Earl passed his hands over his eyes; dropped his head on his bosom; no smile ever rested on that face again. One foreign sailor alone of the hapless crew survived to describe (feebly indeed) the ecstacy of Lord Manfred when he beheld his native shores and discerned his father's banner waving on St. Nicholas' hill. Slowly as the cavalcade descended, each cast a look of despair on that sea which had swallowed all their hopes. Earl de Warrene survived a few years only; but before he died he built the church to St. Nicholas on the hill, to be an everlasting remembrance to all who go upon the mighty deep not to neglect their vows. Lady Edona lies under the cross at the entrance to the church, being the spot where she fell and died; but still, on the anniversary of that day, 'St. Nicholas' Galley' glides at midnight past the town of Brighthelmston, and is seen from the cliff by hundreds of the inhabitants, to sink. {110b} The Earl leaving no children, his family became extinct, and the estates passed to the heir, Lord Arundel, to whom they still belong."

A very quaint epitaph was (it is now obliterated by age) on the late sexton of the period:--

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.

From their exposed position, the inscriptions on many of the tombstones have been erased by the hand of time; nor can one be found of the many recorded in a Diary, kept in 1778 and 1779, of the character alluded to.--"Monday, September 7th, 1778. My landlord is persuading his eldest son, and of course heir apparent, a young prince Crispin, to go to sea. I desire the father to visit the churchyard, and upon various monuments of youth he may observe the following inscription:--

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.

His death was caused thus:--He was superintending the erection of a new flag-staff, for the vane, mentioned in page 84, for Mr. Stephen Poune, the Churchwarden; and having gone aloft, within the tower, to make everything safe in lowering the remains of the old flag-staff, he hastened down, to receive it below, when, just as he emerged from the belfry door, the mass, which was being lowered, having descended much quicker than he expected, came down upon him, crushing him fearfully, so that he died within an hour of the accident. Deceased was bowler to the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, leader of the ringers and conductor of the choir at the Church, and, being a person of good education, a generally useful man.

On the west portion of the ground, the record of the death of Miss Coupland, who was killed by the fall of a wall, in Church Street, where the Royal Stables now are, whilst walking to the Parish Church, to act as bridesmaid at the wedding of a young friend, cannot fail to be read with interest. The shoes which she wore on the occasion are still preserved by a member of her family named Hibben, who worked for her father, the owner of the premises and smithy, which for so many years formed the obstruction to the Royal Entrance at the bottom of Church Street. The epitaph runs:

Sacred to the memory of MARY COUPLAND, died 9th November, 1800--aged 19.

Underneath this turf, in dust is laid, A blooming and a virtuous maid; In virtue's path she always trod, And trusted in Almighty God. For virtue, modesty, and truth, A perfect patron was for youth; She lived in love, and feared the Lord, We hope her soul has met reward; Lamented was, by great and small, Was crushed underneath a blown down wall-- Going to church on the Lord's day; This maid's sweet life was snatched away. A tender mother left to mourn, Enough to wound a heart of stone; God grant his blessing to be given, For them to meet again in Heaven. Short was thy life, fair flower, how soon removed, Sudden thy summons to the realms above. Vain man, as well on sands may structors raise, As build on early youth or length of days; A thousand accidents frail life attend, And none can tell how soon this life may end. 'Tis not for age that here she lie, Therefore, in time, prepare to die; Death does not always warning give, Therefore be careful how you live.

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.

Perhaps no inscription throughout the whole of the hallowed grounds, affords a theme for deeper meditation than that which here follows, associated as it is with marriages, births, and deaths, through a period of half a century: the plighting of solemn vows, vows how often broken; the promise of suretiship to renounce all evil works, a promise how seldom kept; we may rest in Him, as our hope is this our brother doth, a hope how soon forgotten! It is upon a head-stone, on the left, just within the southern entrance to the Old Ground, and is as follows:--

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 circumstances were: On Tuesday, the 4th of November, 1817, a public notice was issued, warning the inhabitants against illuminating their houses, or celebrating the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, by means of fireworks. Notwithstanding this prohibition, a number of persons, chiefly boys, assembled on the Old Steine, at twilight, in the evening of Wednesday, the 5th, and let off squibs, serpents, crackers, &c. The civil power, in number 16,--headboroughs and patrol,--at the head of which was Mr. John Williams, the High Constable, immediately interfered, and took into custody the offenders against the edict. This sort of warfare lasted until nine o'clock, when a lighted tar-barrel made its appearance. The authorities espied it, and, after a stout resistance by the populace, it was captured and extinguished. Much irritation was engendered in consequence, and the mob, deprived of their fun, seemed inclined to mischief, and, the principal object of their displeasure being the High Constable, they attacked his house, the Baths, which stood on the site now occupied by the Lion Mansion. Mr. White, also, in Castle Square, who had made himself very prominent in the affair, came in for his share of the spleen of the rioters. Stones were hurled with great violence, and the windows of their houses were soon smashed in. Greatly alarmed, Williams sent a message to Mr. Serjeant Runnington, the resident magistrate, and also to the guard-house at the Infantry barracks, Church Street, demanding the aid of the military. Several companies of the 21st regiment of Fusileers, who had but that day arrived in Brighton, marched with fixed bayonets to the Steine, the avenues to which they quickly occupied.

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.

The civil power was blamed for calling in the military. The coroner's inquest on the body of Mr. Rowles, after having sat eight days, returned a verdict of "Wilful Murder" against James Day, the principal, and John Williams, High Constable, and James White, stationer, general collector of rates, as accessories before the act. They surrendered to their bail at the Horsham Assizes, on the 25th March, and were found "Not Guilty," and the judge said, that, so far from any blame being attached to Williams and White, he was fully persuaded that they had acted throughout with the greatest prudence, coolness, and discretion. {115}

The base of the stone cross, to which is attached the legend of St. Nicholas Galley, is a remnant of the superstition that prevailed prior to the Reformation. In primitive times, the south side of every churchyard contained a column placed on a pedestal, having on its summit a cross; and the nearer to this a corpse was interred, so much the sooner--it was believed--would the soul be relieved from purgatory. Hence the reason why the south side of a churchyard most frequently contains the greatest number of interments, individuals having a solemn dread of being buried in the north, where there was no cross. So far, indeed, did primitive Christians carry their devotion for this figure, that they have been accused of worshipping the cross itself. Such was their blind zeal for the sign of the cross, that they violated all bounds of prudence, and Flecknoe quaintly observes:--"That had they their will, a bird should not fly in the air with its wings _a-cross_, a ship with its _cross-yard_ sail upon the sea, nor profane tailor sit _cross-legged_ upon his shop-board, or have _cross-bottoms_ to wind his thread upon."

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.

At the time when grave-yard robbers, termed Resurrectionists, were the dread of surviving relatives, in 1820-21, these desecrators of the silent tomb paid the Old Churchyard a visit, in the autumn of the former year, and conveyed away at least one body, the chief of the sacrilegious wretches being Williams, who, in 1831, was executed at Newgate, with Bishop, for "Burking" an Italian boy. The circumstance of the body being stolen greatly alarmed the inhabitants, and for many years afterwards it was the constant practice to have watchers, under a species of impromptu tent, night after night, for months together, upon the death of a person, to prevent the body from being conveyed away. At one period the system of watching had become such a nuisance that persons were afraid to venture through the burial ground after dusk--the time when the watchers went on duty--as the parties were not satisfied with being there to scare off the expected marauders, but they took with them creature comforts in the form of beer, spirits, and tobacco, and armed themselves with pistols, guns, and swords, so that, when the alcoholic spirits began to rise, there was a great lack of discretion, and frequent broils in consequence ensued. The churchwardens, therefore, interfered and prevented their having any other arms than stout sticks. This reckless and indecent profanation of the sacred dormitory lamentably recalls to one's mind the vitiated taste and customs of the early ages, when churchyards were no sooner enclosed than they were appropriated as places of public amusement. According to Aubrey, "in every parish was a church-house, to which belonged spits, crocks, and other utensils, for dressing provisions. Here the housekeepers met, the young people were there, too, and had dancing, bowling, shooting at butts, &c., the ancients gravely sitting by and looking on." Fosbrook further informs us, that "Whitsun ales were brewed by the churchwardens, and sold in the church; and the profits--there being no rates for the relief of the poor--were distributed amongst them." It was, also, customary for barbers to come and shave the parishioners in the churchyard on Sundays and high festivals, before matins. This liberty continued till 1422, when it was restrained by a particular prohibition of Richard Flemyng, Bishop of Lincoln.

For more than ten years the custom of watching prevailed; but legislation at length suggested a means of supplying subjects for dissection, without despoiling the graves; and, since then, in 1851, intra-mural burials being prohibited, the Brighton Churchyards have been respected, and on the 17th of November, 1859, the first tree was planted in the oldest ground, near Wykeham Terrace, by Mr. Churchwarden Marchant, who had suggested the plantation of the grounds. Other of the authorities and the inhabitants in general, followed his example, and very soon the planting of some hundreds of trees and shrubs was effected; but as yet the vegetation of them has progressed but slowly. {118a}

Brighton Vicarage, with West Blatchington, Rectory, is one united benefice, in the sole gift of the Bishop of the Diocese. The present Vicar was appointed by the Crown; his predecessor, the late Dr. Carr, who died Bishop of Worcester, having been made Bishop of Chichester. The Sovereign always takes the appointment to any Ecclesiastical preferment that is vacated by one who is raised to the Episcopate.