Barn burning in the Cuckmere Valley, 1831.

The Vanguard Way runs along the west side of the Cuckmere Valley up to Alfriston and Berwick. Barley and other grains have been grown here for centuries - the name Berwick probably means barley farm and the richness of the land is reflected in the size of the great barns, some of which can still be seen - one at Alciston and another, now converted, at Milton Street. Alfriston is now a prosperous, picturesque village but things were different there in the early nineteenth century.

In 1795 a new payment system fixed agricultural workers' wages in such a way that the farmers and landowners didn't have to pay proper wages because they knew that their employees could apply to the Parish for extra funds or be housed in the Workhouse. This was a fate everyone dreaded, and with good reason - conditions in the Workhouses were worse than prison.

In the early 1800's, the price of bread doubled. Most farm workers' wages were not enough to allow them to buy the food and fuel they needed. In the past, agricultural workers would have kept a pig or two, a few geese and perhaps a cow, grazing them on common land so that even when they couldn't earn much money people could still feed themselves and manage until more prosperous times returned. They could also collect firewood, bean poles and other useful materials from the common lands. Now they had no such rights because the common fields had been enclosed - parcelled up and distributed among the wealthy landowners and farmers. The less wealthy people had lost the ability to survive hard times. When the enclosures were first being made there was extra work created because of the necessary fencing and hedge-laying but this work had now run out.

Then, in the 1830's, threshing machines were introduced, each one reducing the need for workers in winter. Threshing was what the farm workers usually did after the harvest and before the ploughing. Men were being laid off work which meant that they and their families suffered even greater hardship.

The meanest landowners and farmers began to receive letters from a certain "Captain Swing" threatening vengeance if men were laid off work. These letters were written in lurid terms and warned of desperate measures if they were not heeded. Machines were destroyed and there was an atmosphere of rebellion which was much feared by the landowners and gentry because of the recent events in France. The fear of Revolution led to severe measures. Punishments were heavy: people were whipped, imprisoned or transported even for small thefts.

Lord Gage at Firle met his workers and agreed to an increase in wages, but most of the employers did not respond to Captain Swing's letters. Arson attacks ensued, in November 1830 the big barn at Berwick Court Farm burned. In November 1831 it was the barn at the parsonage at Alfriston and in December, the great barn at Milton Court Farm. No-one was accused. There were in fact no paid police forces in country areas at that time.

But after the Milton Court fire the landowner called in a detective from London to find the culprits and make an example of them. The detective accused John Reeds who was a farm labourer with a previous conviction for stealing grain and 7 apples. Reeds then became a prosecution witness. He accused Samuel Thorncraft, a man of 22, who had was known to be illiterate and slow-witted and who had sometimes been seen in the pub when he was supposed to be working. The detective found a tinder-box in Samuel Thorncraft's belongings and the young man confessed. He said he'd been drunk and that John Reeds had "put him up to it". John Reeds was never tried but Samuel Thorncraft was convicted and condemned to death. He was hanged at Horsham in April 1832. His parents brought his body back to Alfriston for burial.

Ann Marchant of Alfriston wrote to her sister that she was glad of the arrest and conviction without which "the whole village would probably have burned before the winter was out." Other commentators at the time, in particular William Cobbett, were more sympathetic to the agricultural workers. He called the new system uncaring and fiercely condemned it.

East Blatchington Mutiny, 1795

There is a different kind of story told about Tidemills which concerns a mutiny in the British Army. It happened in 1795 at a time of real hardship for the poor of these islands. It was a time of punishingly high taxation and inflated bread prices. In the rural areas of Sussex, folk were desperate. Their wages, or profits if they were small farmers, were not enough for even a rock-bottom standard of living. In the past, they would have been able to graze a few animals on common land, but this vital survival strategy had been steadily removed over centuries of enclosures - the common fields and lands had been distributed among the richer landowners and farmers and the poorer people and small farmers no longer had access to them. During this period barns were burned and landowners received threatening letters from "Captain Swing" demanding a better deal for the starving farm workers.

People were no better off in the Army. Soldiers' wages were often paid months late, and in the form of grain and goods rather than money. The men were not given proper rations but had to buy their own food and that of their families out of this irregular and scant pay. At this time, the Oxford Militia were stationed at East Blatchington. From their quarters the soldiers could see Tidemills - with the barges full of grain arriving for milling and the sacks of flour being loaded for export. One early summer's day it was suddenly too much for some of the men. They broke out of the barracks, stormed Tidemills and took 300 sacks of flour from the sloop ship Lucy. They immediately distributed the flour amongst their families, friends and the poor.

But they had not planned it - the action was spontaneous and the men were easily caught by the authorities and "ringleaders" identified. Six men were marched to Brighton for court-martial. They were to be tried at the Castle Inn in Castle Square (which stood near where the Royal Bank of Scotland stands now). The accused were imprisoned in the barracks at Artillery Place (where the Grand Hotel stands now) and were marched each day to Castle Square, for the trial. Brighton people sympathised with the accused and lined the streets to shout their support and encouragement and to offer gifts of food. In their defence, Edward Cooke and Sam Parrish - singled out as main culprits - said that the food they had seized was going abroad when they and their families were starving. They were found guilty and condemned to death by execution. Another four were sentenced to 300 lashes - also a death sentence in effect. Brighton people petitioned for clemency for all the men, but the sentences were fixed to be executed on June 12th. Public feeling was running high - the ordinary people did not want to see these young men die. On June 11th the executions were postponed and people rejoiced, sure that clemency would follow. But what actually followed was the arrival in town of the whole regiment of the 10th Hussars and 2000 cavalrymen. There had been no concern about clemency - only fears for public order. The authorities were taking no risks. A public execution always attracted big crowds and a real danger of riot and rebellion.

On June 13th, the six condemned men were marched from their quarters to Goldstone Bottom (near Hove Park - where the old football ground used to be). Soldiers lined the streets. And on the hills all around the execution site, the Hussars stood with rifles ready to fire on the crowds. The number of lashes was reduced to 150 each for the four men not condemned to death, and all the Oxford Militia including Edward Cooke and Sam Parrish were made to watch this punishment. Then the two "ringleaders" were made to kneel by their coffins. There was absolute silence all around. Ten of their own companions - on punishment duties - formed the firing squad. After the firing, it seems that Edward Cooke was not quite dead and an officer fired a final shot with a pistol. All the soldiers present were made to march past the bodies as they lay in the open coffins. It is said that the coffins - quickly and carelessly made - oozed blood onto the shoulders of the men who carried them to the graves in St Andrews churchyard in Hove. Reverend John Dring of the Chapel Royal was in attendance and he wrote about the details of the affair. He was deeply affected by it. He quotes a letter Edward Cooke wrote to his brother the day before the execution. He'd written,
"I am going to die for what the regiment 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."

Some people say that Edward Cooke's ghost haunts Newhaven Fort. I don't know why it would haunt there, but I do know what happened in August 1998 when I told his story in the Grand Magazine ammunition store in the fort. Two candles burned in the darkness behind me and when I told of the letter to his brother and the execution these candles hissed, guttered and died right down, nearly going out. There was no wind or other disturbance of the air. The people listening and watching felt shivers down their spines. They said that the flames had burned brightly and steadily the whole time until I reached that point.