The church of St Thomas a Becket, Brightling.

The Tomb of John “Mad Jack” Fuller

With politicians very much in the news these days (and our Westminster and Beyond the spin London walks have a new unbelievable story to tell almost daily now!) we thought we’d have a look at a colourful figure from England’s political past - Mad Jack Fuller.

John Fuller (1757-1834) – better known to his contemporaries as “Mad Jack”, “Honest John” or “Hippo” – was one of that delightful breed of British eccentrics whose wealth enabled them to break free from the restraints of convention care little for what their fellow citizens thought of them.

Weighing in at a hefty twenty-two stone, he was a bluff man of fiery temperament and few pretensions. He is said to have contemptuously declined the offer of a Peerage, remarking haughtily “I was born Jack Fuller and Jack Fuller I’ll die”.

As Member of Parliament for the district Brightling he was forcibly ejected from the house more than once – on one notable occasion for referring to the Speaker as “the insignificant little fellow in the wig”!

Yet he also possessed a philanthropic streak and was instrumental in the founding of the Royal Institute in London, where two Fullerian Professorships still commemorate him.

It is, however, his passion for building follies that has proved to be his most enduring legacy and vestiges of that obsession are today scattered about the East Sussex countryside. One of these, the Sugar Loaf, came about as a result of a wager with the vicar of St Giles church at Dallington the spire of which, Jack insisted, he could see from his own house at Brightling.

Upon returning home he found that his view was obscured by a large hill. Determined to win the bet, he built a mock spire near the road joining Battle to Heathfield, which when viewed from his house, gave the appearance of the church’s spire in the distance.

His masterpiece, however, is undoubtedly the twenty-foot high, pyramidal mausoleum that he constructed in St Thomas’s churchyard and beneath which the mortal remains of this larger than life figure are now buried.

This lasting tribute to his eccentricity sits somewhat uncomfortably alongside the church and legends aplenty swarm around it. One of the reasons he gave for declining a conventional burial was his terror of being eaten by his relatives. “The worms would eat me”, he explained, “the ducks would eat the worms and my relatives would eat the ducks”.

His body was, therefore, said to have been sitting on his favourite chair at the centre of the pyramid, resplendent in full evening dress and a top hat on his head. Before him was placed a table laid with a magnificent feast, that included a bottle of port and a full roast chicken, whilst on the floor around him was scattered broken glass, so that “when the devil comes to claim his own he might at least cut his feet”.

Sadly, this colourful legend was found to be untrue when, in 1983, structural repairs made it necessary to re-open the pyramid and “Mad Jack” proved conspicuous by his absence. His body, it was discovered, is buried beneath the floor, whilst on the wall is a segment from Thomas Gray’s Elegy Written in a country churchyard reminding us all that:-

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,
Awaits alike the inevitable hour.

Interestingly, our City of London walks around Bank and along Cornhill feature the site of the house where Thomas Gray was born, which just goes to show how so many aspects of London’s past can link together to make this city and its streets an absolute joy to discover!