THE BRIGHTON ROAD.*
Or the crowds who travel by rail from London to Brighton, few have any idea of the aspect of the country and the scenery to be found along the old coach-road. Although within sight and sound of the railway for nearly the whole distance, it takes such different levels as to give quite another impression of the district through which both pass. At the most striking points—namely, where it emerges from the North Downs, and the wide and lovely expanse of the Weald bursts into view, where it tops the Forest Ridge at Handeross, and where the steep ascent of the South Downs is made—the railway is hidden in long and deep cuttings, or buried in the tunnels of Merstham, Balcornbe, or Clayton. The journey by rail, too, gives the idea that the Weald of Surrey and Sussex is thickly peopled, and covered with towns and villas. This is quite a mistake. These busy haunts of men have been created by the railway itself ; and at the time of its making there was nothing save very insignificant villages and hamlets, and not a single market town, to be found in the whole distance between Croydon, then quite a small place, and Brighton. Nor did the coach-road take a much more inhabited line of country. Aided by the railway, it has since attracted a population along some portions of its course, but for many miles it runs through a purely agricultural country. Let any one wander off the main road, and he will find himself at once knee-deep in the country, and amid scenes pervaded with a sleepy, old- world atmosphere, which attaches both to places and people. Distance from London in many parts of the Home Counties does not count for so much as distance from high-road or railway ; and the Weald is rich in secluded districts and villages which still retain an absolutely primitive and antiquated character.
This book purports to be an account of a five days' tramp from London to Brighton, taken in a most leisurely way, by very easy stages, with such halts as fancy suggested. In this way, Mr. Harper finds opportunity to discourse, not only of the places passed through, and people met with on his journey, but concerning " writers and artists who have lived or travelled, or sketched or written upon this road." Thus, with the help of full records of coaching and sporting events, be has compiled a very readable and amusing volume, profusely illustrated with his own admirable sketches, and with reproductions of the works of other artists, and of very interesting coaching pictures, old and new. Some portions of his book, he tells us, have appeared in the PaZZ Mall Gazette and other papers. Mr. Harper chooses the road through Streatham, Croydon, and Purley, to Merstham. He does not forget to tell us of the Thrales, Fanny Burney, and Dr. Johnson, who went hunting at Streatham, and acquitted himself manfully on that occasion. At Croydon may be seen the inn which Mr. Ruskin's grand- mother kept, whilst the Whitgift Hospital and other archi- tectural remains call for notice. Purley House was once the residence of the regicide Bradshaw, and later, of Horne Tooke. Merstham, a charmingly situated village, with an interesting church, seems to command the entrance to the Weald, which is now entered. Of the hideous mushroom growth of Redhill —for the old and much more attractive route through Reigate was not followed—the less said the better. At Honey, in the flattest part of the Weald, stands the famous Chequers Inn,' the "half-way house" of coaching-days, where the Brighton Parcel Mail, which is now sent by road, changes every night at 12.55, the vans having left London and Brigh- ton at 9.45 p.m, and completing the journey at 4.45 a.m. with remarkable regularity.
The road to Brighton is famous in coaching annals. During the last century, the roads across Surrey and Sussex were as bad, if not worse, than elsewhere. In 1756, the Brighthelm- stone Stage was "performed (if God permit) by James Batchelor," by way of Lewes, in apparently two days. But in 1784, the Pavilion was begun at Brighton, and the demands of Royalty and the Court compelled good highways and plenty
of travellers. The road became notorious and brilliant in the days of the Prince-Regent, and it was probably the most per- fect of coach-roads, as it certainly was the most fashionable. Early in the century several four-horse coaches were started, to say nothing of the pair-horse coach each way daily, driven by Crossweller and Hine, and taking twelve hours on the * The Brighten Road: Old Times and Now on a Classic Iltiollway. By Charles G. Harpor. London : Ohatto and Windus. 1852.
road ; nor of the ' Bellerophon,' an enormous affair in two compartments, put on the road in 1805, and driven by Rine, a proprietor and favourite coachman who is frequently men- tioned in these pages. In 1809, these and other proprietors began to run faster coaches, and the time of the journey was lessened from nine or ten hours to eight, the fares being 23s. inside and 13s. outside. A year or two later there were twenty-eight coaches on the road, and fares were greatly reduced,—viz., 10s. and 5s. In 1821, during the season," over forty coaches ran to and fro from London daily," and sixty in the year following ; whilst, in 1828, we are told by " Viator Junior," an amusing contemporary writer, from whom Mr. Harper quotes freely, that the time taken by the slower coaches was seven, and by the fast coaches five and six hours. Accidents were constantly happening. The 'Quicksilver,' timed for four hours and three-quarters to the ' Elephant and Castle,' came to terrible grief through the team bolting, and bringing up against the railings of the New Steine, whereupon it was renamed the ' Criterion,' and on February 4th, 1834, it made the journey, carrying King William's speech on the opening of Parliament, in three hours and forty minutes. This record has never been broken, not even by Selby in his wonderful performance on July 13th, 1888, when he drove the double journey, down in three hours and fifty-six minutes, and up in three hours and fifty-four minutes. During the thirties, the coaching service was splendidly maintained, but the end was at hand. In 1841, the railway was completed, coaching, as a matter of business, was dead, and the road once so lively became silent and deserted. Of late years, the revival of coaching, and the crowds of flying cyclists, have again repeopled it.
Pushing his way across the Weald, where the rapidly changing geology produces great diversity of scenery, Mr. Harper takes us through Crawley to Cuckfield, once the centre of an iron industry, which came to an end through the discovery of the process of coal-smelting, just at the time when fuel in Sussex was exhausted. It finally ex- pired in 1820, and nothing save old hammer-ponds and cinder-heaps, and, most permanent of all, local names, re- main to mark its former importance. Cuckfield is a quaint little town. From the churchyard is a fine view of the South Downs, which are gained in due time. It is curious to note how our forefathers were impressed by these swelling bills. "That chain of majestic mountains," Gilbert White calls them ; whilst the poet Cowper, who travelled to Brighton with Mrs. Unwin, says :—" I, indeed, myself was a little daunted by the tre- mendous height of the Sussex hills, in comparison of which all I had seen elsewhere were dwarfs ; but," he adds, "I only was alarmed." And Horace Walpole writes, in 1749 :—" We travelled over Alpine mountains, drenched in clouds." Yet this hill-country is full of beauty. To any one who has lived on them and learned the varying moods of Nature among these breezy uplands, there is true delight to be found in the mei ing heights and sheltered combes of' the South Downs. The loneliness of the spacious hills, and the perfect hush that often broods among their secluded valleys, par- ticularly at sundown, is impressive and enthralling. Their subtle charm has escaped most artists, and it has been left for Mr. Hine, V.P.R.I., son of "old Hine," the popular whip before mentioned, to give their true spirit and atmosphere in the exquisite drawings he has made of his native hills. Prom Clayton the road runs by an easy gradient through Pyecombe and Patcham to the Pavilion. Naturally, we bear much of the Prince Regent in these pages. He may be said to have created Brighton, but it is strange to find Mr. Harper holding a brief for him on the grounds that he was badly brought up, which may be granted, and that he was picturesque, which may be questioned. The Pavilion is a monument of his bad taste and extravagance ; it is said to have cost a million. Cobbett likened it to the pointed half of a large turnip placed "in the middle of a board, with four smaller ones at the corner (sic whilst Sydney Smith said it looked to him as if St. Paul's Cathedral had come down to the sea- side and pupped. Here is a choice of similes. From the Pavilion it is but a step to the sea, that sailless sea of which Hood—was it not P—said "There's not a smack upon the ocean's face." An old writer, speaking of this shore, talks of the "number of beautiful women who every morning court the embraces of the Watery God ; " but these Mr. Harper found wanting, so he fled to Rottingdean. Space fails us to mention the many sporting events that have been decided upon or near the Brighton Road. They are duly recorded in this lively volume. We have noted several minor errors, but can only here point out that old Michaelmas Day is on October 10th, not September 10th. The book is well printed and of good appearance, but so badly stitched that several pages fell from the copy before us on opening it. A map would have been a valuable addition.
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