THIS IS FINDON — www.findonvillage.com Created by Valerie Martin, contains scenes from her home village of Findon, West Sussex, U.K.

Watercolour by Stanley Roy Badmin (1906-1989).

VISITORS TO THE GUN INN

Copyright Valerie Martin 2000

First published in Along the Furlong, October 2001.

The Gun Inn has seen the face of Findon village change over the years, through good years and bad, through snow and ice. Innkeepers came and went.

In 1702, a lad by the name of Thomas Ellis came to the forefront. He was not local but hailed from Wivelsfield and had gained an apprenticeship it is said with —

"a gunsmith in Findon"

— who in all probability was William Lasseter who ran his gunsmith's shop from the Gun Inn, as well as managing the inn and brewhouse.

Thomas apparently went to Billingshurst one day where he was apprehended for carrying on a —

 "dissolute, loose and bold living".

The result of his escapades being an immediate order for his return to the village of Findon where he was under apprenticeship — and where, no doubt, from then on he enjoyed recounting at the inn his wrong-doings and adventures.  His audiences were no doubt enthralled.

The Findon Manor Court was still conducted at the Gun Inn premises in the late 18th century. The main business of the village Court was recording the changes in Findon tenancy agreements. Until the end of the 18th century the Court was also concerned with the management and regulation of pastures on the local Common Downs.

This was also the era when tithe dinners were held at the Gun Inn and attended by many of the villagers. Much drinking went on. For instance, in 1790, at the tithe dinner, two bottles of port were provided for each man and, no doubt, a jolly time was had by all.

During William Frankland's ownership of Muntham Court from 1765-1805, alcohol was brewed at the Muntham Estate. On many occasions in the late 1700s the cellars of Muntham would, unfortunately, run quite dry. The Gun Inn promptly came to the rescue and supplied the mansion with the required hogsheads of beer. It is known that over the years some of the Muntham workers were noticeably absent from their normal duties. They were usually discovered consuming more ale and mead than was good for them at the Gun Inn and risked losing their jobs.

Visitors to Findon travelled by coach and horses and had the choice of riding inside the coach or on top.  "Insiders" paid about twice as much for that privilege. The benefits of travelling for long distances inside the dark interior of the coach were many — including not being thrown off along the bumpy Findon roads. Nor did they suffer the cold rain or snow on their faces in mid-winter, or be laid open to the danger of heat stroke in summer.

Perhaps the claustrophobic feeling of strangers being squashed closely together, with perhaps a crying toddler, or an unsanitary fellow traveller, made the more upper class passengers seek a little respite by sitting for at least some of the journey exposed "on top".

The safety and stability of each coach rested in the guard's hands alone. Goods were stored in the front boot and only stacked on top if this was absolutely necessary. He had an important responsibility as bad distribution of a load could upset the centre of the gravity of any carriage. If not loaded correctly it could make the coach clatter and rock violently and put all at immense risk, especially on the stoney Findon highways.

Coaches loaded sky high with luggage, parcels and packages as well as passengers at Christmas time, could hardly ascend the Findon Downs despite the horses straining their utmost. On some occasions, the travellers would have to walk up a hill to lessen the load and re-alight the coach again that was waiting at the top for them.

Because of the danger risks to horse drawn coaches, a law was passed in 1822 to limit the height of luggage to two feet, thus minimising the problem caused by too high a centre of gravity — as artistically drawn on some Christmas cards. The penalty for an infringement of this necessary law was a severe fine of £5 for each and every inch calculated to be above the legal maximum.

There have been many Christmas scenes outside the Gun Inn over the years. Glistening white snow, deep and crisp and even — as stagecoaches packed with beaming passengers arrived at a cracking pace to be greeted by a jovial landlord.

The old coachmen are said to have known how many trees grew to the right, and how many to the left of the road from Worthing to London. They knew who lived in almost every house they travelled passed and the history of each. They attributed the health and longevity of their lives to the fact that their life was spent in the open air, driving fifty to seventy miles every day.

Coach racing was a serious cause of many local accidents.    Sometimes a driver with good horses found himself being over-hauled by a rival concern — and a race began.   In 1810, two coachmen raced their coaches from Worthing to the Sussex Pad Inn at Shoreham.   They disregarded the requests from their passengers to slow down and raced neck and neck.   The leading coach took the corner at Buckingham Farm in Shoreham too swiftly and the driver, Mr. Coles, was thrown off and killed.

In 1827, another local accident occurred as a Worthing coach was being taken out of its yard in Market Street when the steeds took fright.   They galloped down Market Street and turned into the High Street and charged into a tailor's shop.   Their groom, Mr. Sandall attempted to stop them and was thrown under the coach and had both of his legs broken.

The 1830s were known for some extremely fast running coaches on local cross country roads.    One speedy coach, named "NIMROD" covered the journey between Brighton and Portsmouth in six hours.   In March 2007 I heard from John Labouchere and this made me wonder if Ted Fownes ever pulled his coach and horses up to the Gun Inn....

In February 1840 such a "turnover" occurred near to Findon. This accident happened to the Brighton and Southampton coach — know as the "TIMES", one of Crosweller's Blue coaches.  A gentleman by the name of Mr. Upfold was the coachman of the "Unicorn" team, and was on his way to Brighton with the horses proceeding at their usual pace. It appears that he instructed his team using the incorrect rein at the sharp corner of the trackway where the Arundel highway met that running south from Salvington Mill (known at that time as The Crocodile's Tail). Coachman Upfold subsequently tried his utmost to prevent the vehicle from overturning. The bewildered horses panicked, followed by an almighty crashing and splintering. The coach was over and the respected Mr. Upfold died from his multiple injuries.

Coachmen shouldered much responsibility, for in their hands were the lives of the passengers and guard. Coachmen of the road who drove with panache were important and everyone respected them. When off the box seat, they thrust their hands deep into the pockets of their greatcoats and strode around the inn yard with an air of dignity and importance. They were more often than not surrounded by a throng of young ostlers, stable boys, shoeblacks and the many nameless ragamuffin hangers-on who plagued inns, all waiting to hear the latest story of the road before the coachman resumed his journey.

Perhaps passengers preparing to depart from the Gun Inn would have carried blankets to wrap themselves in to keep out the wind. This seemed to be always blowing at twelve feet above the ground when travelling at some ten miles an hour. While passengers settled themselves, the guard would carefully load their baggage.

At the point of departure, the passengers would hear the guard clatter up the iron steps at the rear of the coach, check his timepiece and proclaim for all to hear —

"All ready, outside and in!"

The coachman would have already sorted the reins deftly inbetween the appropriate fingers, with whip at the ready, he shrugged his shoulders to arrange the layers of capes to his satisfaction. He would answer by shouting out to the Gun Inn’s ostlers, who were holding the horses’ heads —

"Let ‘em go!"

The ostlers, perhaps already numb with cold, would swiftly step back. The horn blasted shrilly. The horses, aware of what was expected of them, surged forward, throwing coachman, guard and passengers alike, back in their seats. The next leg of the journey commenced.

Continue if you would like to read about the The Wealth of William Parsons at the Gun Inn.

This is Findon Village — www.findonvillage.com is a continually growing record created by Valerie Martin exclusively for documenting life in Findon.