The Gossiping Photographer at Hastings

Published in 1864 by Francis Frith, this book contains amusing anecdotes from the authors visit to Hastings with many albumen photographs included within the contents.

[ 8 ]

GOSSIP ABOUT HASTINGS.

Nor to use a stronger term, and if it be not wrong-morally and sentimentally wrong-to say so, I dislike the sea. I lately read that some great man, Edward Irving or Achilles-I really forget which-whenever he was in trouble, resorted to the sea-shore for comfort ; and a comment was added, that " great minds," when they have discarded every other species of sentimentality, retain this habit. It struck me, however, that a fortnight's uninterrupted sea-sickness might perhaps cure them of this remaining weakness .

Further reasons why people should agree with me in disliking the sea will be given in their proper places ; meanwhile we know that all men are driven, yearly, each by his own peculiar destiny, to a " watering-place. " You, my domestic friend and best of fathers, have children, for whose welfare it is absolutely needful that they should dig in sea sand during one-twelfth part of their little annual existences, with threepenny spades. You, sir, have had your nerves shaken by dreadful suspense in a land speculation. It was a terrible struggle to " raise the wind" in London : nothing but a breeze from the water will revive you. Whilst he (third person singular, and no acquaintance of ours) has some . how unaccountably lost his appetite at home-poor fellow ! Why yes ; [ 9 ]that is to say, he got through his soup, and joint, and first bottle of port well enough, but flagged sadly over the game. Lastly, I and mine is the cruelest fate of all-am doomed to photograph miles of monotonous water, and prim lodging-houses.

So , then, being all of necessity here, let us congratulate ourselves :- Hastings is certainly one of the least objectionable of sea-side places ; I am not sure that it is not the very best of them. If we are sensible, and have been at Brighton (though going to Brighton was no great proof of our wisdom) , we shall be pleased with our present lot. What more can we expect ? We came down from London Bridge in two hours and a half-you by the " South Coast," and I by the South-Eastern - cheap enough. You face the sea in your drawing-room at St. Leonard's, and occupy your five bed-rooms at six guineas per week. " Claremont," Hastings, has a side view of breakers and bathing machines for half that money ; whilst Jones has fine open quarters looking landwise at ten shillings per room.

I was at Waghorn's, the butcher's, in Robertson Street, on the day after my arrival, arranging for a modest chop, when " he " came puffing in, accompanied by a friend who appeared to be suffering from gout. They were so exactly alike, that, but for slight differences of dress, you would not know one from the other. I learned from their talk that " he " was at the " Queen's," and his friend at the " Victoria, " the two great hotels of Hastings and St. Leonard's respectively. I could by no means make out that either of them was likely to benefit by an abstinent system of diet at those establishments. They had no business at the butcher's. Grubb, Esq., especially, was a long way off his beat. No doubt he was ordered to walk, and could think of nothing but a tour amongst the meat, and game, and fish-shops. I can't bear raw meat, but they seemed to gloat upon it ; though Hastings meat is mostly