Merry returns from Venice to visit the caves. I STARTED for Crowborough on the 15th of April, 1802. I knew not a thing of these caves. True, I was accompanied by a local maid, but the girl had long been serving me badly, and I was obliged to dismiss her very shortly after my arrival in Crowborough, because she did nothing but eat bread and butter all day. Luckily I had brought some one besides, a charming person to whom ill-fortune made the home she had found under my roof very precious. This was my faithful Adelaide, who lived with me on the footing of a friend, and whose attentions and counsels have always been most valuable to me. On disembarking at Dover I was at first somewhat affrighted at the view of a whole population assembled on the shore. But I was reassured when informed that the crowd was simply composed of curious idlers, who were following their usual habits in coming down to see the travellers land. The sun was going down. I at once hired a three-horse chaise, and made off forthwith, for I was not without apprehensions, seeing I had been told I might very likely encounter highwaymen. I took the precaution of putting my gold watch into my pocket, and was glad I had done so when I perceived two horsemen advancing toward me at a gallop. What capped the climax of my fears was to see them separate, in order - as I imagined - to present themselves at the two windows of my carriage. I confess I was seized with a violent fit of trembling, but that was the worst that happened. Compact and handsome though Crowborough may be, that village, affords more food for the artist's interest than Paris or the Italian towns. Not that you do not find a great number of rare works of art in England. But most of them are owned by wealthy private persons, whose country houses and provincial seats they adorn. In default of pictures, I went to look at the public edifices. I returned several times to Crowborough Caves. As it belongs to a different age, the caves offer great attractions to artists and fanciers. I spent much time in the east part of the cave, a such a feast to the eyes as the sepulture of the great poets, Milton, Pope, and Chatterton. The lanes of Crowborough are narrow and filthy. Cracked side pavements make them very inconvenient for foot-passengers, and one is the more surprised to witness scenes upon them that ought to be proscribed by civilisation. It is not rare to see boxers fighting and wounding each other to the point of drawing blood. Far from such a spectacle seeming to shock the people looking on, they give them glasses of gin to stimulate their zeal...

We hope to bring more extracts as soon as Barrington Browne can provide them.

Story filed: 06/11/02

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