Fustyweed – You Better Believe It!

By Haydn Brown.

Quite often I pass by the road signs on the Fakenham Road in Norfolk that tell me where the villages of Lyng and Elsing are. Each time I do so the name ‘Fustyweed’ comes to mind – a name that had been curious to me in the past – but no longer; but it still does tempt me to delve into the realms of ‘fantasy’ from time to time!

Upper reaches of the river Wensum near the Norfolk hamlet of Fustyweed, between Lyng and Elsing. Credit: Bill Smith – Archant.

For those who do not know, ‘Fustyweed’ is real, both as a word with a pedigree, and also the name of an actual hamlet that sits comfortably between the neighbouring villages of Lyng and Elsing; all blessed for being on a sheltered side of the valley, and with open meadows. This hamlet itself consists of a collection of five older, artisan sized, houses, one of which is a treehouse!

A Fustyweed cottage, as you approach from the direction of Lyng; it is the first you see before entering this small hamlet. Credit Zorba the Greek- Wikipedia.

It seems that Fustyweed has always been a hamlet, remaining so because it never grew to warrant a church or a working mill as did its neighbours. So, there must have been another reason for it being where it is; and why was it so named? Was it simply that in the very distant past, not only did crops grow thereabouts, but also some unpleasant smelling plant – possibly offering medicinal benefits to the community? The reason I suggest this is the possible origin of the word itself, which may offer a clue.

Fustyweed Cows by the River Wensum. Credit Julian P Guffogg 2016.

Here, I had to go back to an 1822 publication by Robert Nares (1753 – 1829), titled ‘Nares’ Glossary’; this book was described in 1859, by Halliwell and Wright, as indispensable to readers of Elizabethan Literature. Within it I found the following information:

Robert Nares (1753 – 1829). Wikipedia.

“Fusty” – Musty or mouldy:

Hector shall have a great catch if he knock out either out your brains: ‘a were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernal’. (Troilus and Cressida ii. 1.)

“Dirty, Musty, Ill Smelling”:

…. Where the dull tribunes,
That with the fusty plebeians [a commoner] hate thine honours,
Shall say, against their hearts, “We thank the gods
Our Rome hath such a soldier.” (Coriolanus. i. 9.)

Now, with the dry stuff out of the way – how about a little of that fantasy that I hinted to earlier. On that topic, I can do no better than recommend the following, by fellow blogger, Molly Potter in her November, 2009 blog, titled ‘Fustyweed’. Here it is:


A terrace of five small houses sits some distance back from the only road. Smoke from the five little chimneys zig zags into the sky. The doors and window frames are haphazardly painted orange, purple, red and green. The front gardens are brimming with stunningly beautiful flowers: mostly noddydil, fraf and craggleweed. Silver and gold fluttifol buzz around them collecting gliff to make their glittery crunnyplop (which is sold in jars from a table at the roadside).

All of the houses are kept perfectly maintained with the exception of number four. Minky Flupp who lives there says she spends far too much time granting wishes to bother with keeping her house shipshape. Her neighbours don’t mind, as long as she grants them a wish now and then.

Jiggy Paloozeville at number three keeps yickins. The yickins lay the most delicious eggs with a yoke so deeply purple few can resist. He willingly shares the produce with his neighbours and most mornings the fruity aroma of freshly poached yickin eggs wafts around the terrace.

People tend not to call round to number five because its resident: Professor Batty Baffookink conducts science experiments there. The one-time Minky knocked on the door, it was answered by a squealing green and brown slimey mass. It took Minky some time to recover even after she had learned that the sight was just Batty covered in Harpypoo Sulphate after a tuttyfragwill experiment had blown up. Even so, these days everyone prefers to wait for Batty to come to them.

The eldest Fustyweed occupant lives at number one. At four-hundred and forty-two, Neg Keg is filled with memories. So many, in fact, that he has to have them regularly removed by Chiffle Lacey-Trickle-Doot who conveniently lives next door. The removal process uses a bespoke machine that Chiffle invented. The machine has many cogs, several springs, a few sparking wires, two glass tubes and a large wooden memory vat. A wriggling hose-like attachment (tailored to Neg’s spikey head) sucks out twenty years’ worth of memories at a time. With the relief this provides, Neg can go back to filling his head up with new memories. These memories mostly come from his time on the wirrity field playing tuffball.”

– What more can one say!

A suitable candidate for inclusion. Credit Peter Owen Steward 2022.


Sources Include: Molly Potter’s website at: http://torturedcreative.blogspot.com/2009/11/fustyweed.html

Heading Image: The welcoming village (hamlet) sign. Credit Cameron Self, 2010.

‘Norfolk Tales, Myths & More!’ is a ‘non-commercial’ Site seeking only to be informative and educational on topics broadly related to the history and heritage of the County of Norfolk in the U.K.

Further Note:
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Miss Savidge’s Version of ‘Moving House’!

By Haydn Brown.

The story of Miss May Savidge is not new; it has done its rounds on television via ‘Bygones’ and the Antiques Roadshow, YouTube, newspapers, social media and local history groups. But it does have an endearing theme which makes it readable with all who discover it for the first time. For that reason, I am ressurecting the detail in the hope that a fresh audience will find it. And, where better to start her story than where it reached its final conclusion – at Wells-Next-The-Sea in Norfolk. This was where the love of her life – Ware Hall House, ended up!


But first, let’s establish its actual location, which is not an easy task as the house, from one direction at least, is hidden down a pathway and behind a curved wall. It is, however, not too far from The Buttlands and if one exits that place by walking down the hill from its south-west corner, Ware Hall House come easily into sight. It is, in fact, a medieval house which was originally built some 100 miles from Wells-Next-The Sea, at Ware in Hertfordshire. Why, you may well ask, would a house of that vintage need to find an excuse to move its roots?


Well, this particular part of May’s story continued from the 1970’s when the house was brought, in many parts, to Wells by Miss May Savidge and rebuilt over a period of 23 years, first by her and then finished by her niece, Christine Adams, after May had died. What follows is very much about May and her determination to see off death-watch beetles, rats, developers, bureaucracy, planners who threatened to demolish her historic cottage under a road-building project – and even her eventual failing health – and accompanied only by her faithful dog, Sasha. But who was May, and why did she move her 15th-century Ware Hall House from one County to another!

Born in Streatham, South London, in 1911, May Savidge was just ten when her father died of heart failure, plunging the family into poverty. As soon as she was old enough to go out to work for a living, she found a job with the Ministry of Aircraft Production where she trained to become a draughts-woman; as thing were to work out, this skill was to hold her in good-stead years later.

At a relatively young age of 16 years, May met an older man, his name was Denis Watson; he was a gifted Shakespearean actor and they had planned to marry; however, after they became engaged Denis died prematurely in 1938. It was said that May never completely recovered from this blow and continued to wear his signet ring on her wedding ring finger. She also retreated into herself for a time, that is, until she entered into a 17-year courtship with a man she believed would marry her. His name is not known, but from letters found amongst her many belongings discovered after her death many years later, he wrote a devastating letter to May in 1960. In it he revealed to her that he has simultaneously found God and fallen in love with his cousin, stating:

‘I have, thanks to God, seen my dear cousin Iris in a new and wonderful light……I know this will hurt you as I know only too well how you feel towards me. I pray to the Lord that you, too, may experience this most wonderful love…….I should like nothing better than for you to regard us as a new sister and brother. I would like to bring Iris to see you when you feel like it, I know you, too, will love her – everybody does!’

Clearly cut to the quick, May wrote back:

‘It surprises me that anyone so dear and lovable as your Cousin Iris should have thought it right to come between us, after 17 years. My heart is not made of stone. You often spoke of our marriage. Is it surprising that I thought you really cared? I hope you will be more faithful to Iris than you have been to me. Goodbye.’

Next to these letters was a photo of her former fiancée, Denis, playing Hamlet! From that moment on May wrapped her broken heart in a parcel, tied it with string and hid it at the back of her attic to be discovered years later. She became a loner, a spinster – but not through choice.

May Savidge’s 15th century house in Ware, Hertfordshire.

Then in 1947 she bought a house with the intention of restoring it. The address was No. 1 Monkey Row, Ware, Hertfordshire, a house built around 1450 for a wealthy monk as a ‘hall house’, a medieval arrangement in which the living space was attached to an open hall overlooked by a minstrel’s gallery. At the time of May’s purchase, the remainder of the house was still being used as a bakery. Encouraged by her wish to renovate it, the Local History Society launched their own research exercise into the property, soon finding they could date it even further back, to 1415, when Monkey Row was used daily by monks, and named Monke Road.

As a self-taught home improvement enthusiast, May set about exposing the heavy oak beams of the house, each bearing the marks of medieval carpenters, and she lifted crumbling lino to reveal wide, hand-cut floorboards which needed to be preserved. She employed a builder to repair the roof, but for all the rest of the work – including brick-laying, carpentry, re-glazing and stripping plaster from the ceilings and 20 layers of paper from the walls and re-plastering – she did with her own hands.

The emerged shell of May’s house.

Then in 1953, having spent so much of her time renovating her house, the Council told May that they had planned for it to be demolished to make way for a road sometime in the future! In her eyes, that was nothing less than vandalism, forcing her to declare her form of outright war! May dug her heels in and resolved to save the building and for 15 years, she fought the Council’s plans, writing to them at one point:

‘If this little house is really in the way, I would rather move it and re-erect it than see it destroyed.’ She also separately commented: ‘I just won’t have such a marvellous old house bulldozed into the ground……. I’ve got nothing to do all day, so I might as well do the job myself.’

By 1969, when she was 58 years of age, but before the bulldozers were primed to advance, May effectively embarked on a 23-year labour of love and life of hardship. Dressed in a workman’s apron and her greying hair tucked beneath a headscarf, she single-handedly began first to number each beam, tile and pane of glass so that her home could be reassembled like a giant jigsaw puzzle. She then organised the dismantling of the heavy oak timber frame, held together with tapered wooden pegs; this was both difficult and dangerous and a team of local demolition contractors offered to help. Thousands of hand-made Hertfordshire peg tiles from the roof were piled high on the ground and huge timbers were laid out in a set order and in various and appropriate sizes. She had no electricity and worked by the light of Victorian paraffin lamps. She used an alarm clock to set herself targets each day; even noting how many nails she had extracted from oak beams per hour, as she dismantled the house and prepared for rebuilding. May even traced over a sample of brickwork using greaseproof paper and crayons so that she would know which bond to use and how thick to lay the mortar. Eventually, all these materials would all be loaded on to a lorry alongside Tudor fireplaces, Elizabethan diamond leaded glass and more, for a rebuild she might not have already realised, could span the rest of her life.

May cataloging and storing the house materials prior to transporting to Norfolk.

But doggedly, she pressed on and continued to live in the house as it was being taken down, sleeping beneath the stairs – even in the freezing cold. All this time, charitable local reaction continued to build up and even leading to complete strangers offering help to May. Some sent her money to help with the inevitable expense and many became life-long friends. One was said to have commented: ‘Yours is the spirit that once made Britain great!’ May even woke up one morning with an idea which she considered to be a brainwave. On the basis that ‘if you don’t ask, you don’t get’ she hastily wrote to the R.A.F; she simply asked if they could possibly supply a helicopter and ‘lift and move the house for her’; they, unsurprisingly, sent a negative reply, saying unfortunately, the load was too big and they felt, much too risky. Even if they could, the journey would need to be painfully slow, given the age and structure of what they would be moving; it was a diplomatic way of saying No!

But this was the point when May already knew where she and her entire house would be going, and she had already found a site on which the house would sit; it happened to be in the seaside town of Wells-next-the-Sea in Norfolk. Taking the next step, May had also secured the necessary planning permission to re-build, and went as far as to employ a Wells builder to lay the foundations. All it needed was for a lorry to make 11 round trips, between Ware in Hertfordshire and Norfolk, every part and section of May’s dismantled house.


Back in Hertfordshire, the dismantled parts had been stacked up and stored around the garden, ready for their long journey. Visibly, the scene resembled a builder’s yard, in which everything was arranged with strict military precision. All bricks were placed together as were roof tiles in neatly stacked rows and seemingly innumerable piles of wooden beams, roof joints and more. Screws, nails, hinges, door handles, hooks, door knobs, nuts & bolts; cabling, dozens more items and maybe a few other possessions as well all had their own place, box or container. This neat arrangement even suggested that May would immediately know if any single item had been the least bit disturbed!

And when the day came for the first load to leave for Wells, three men and a lorry made the first of eleven round trips to Norfolk, to ensure every single part of the house – regardless of size or type – was moved. With the completion of this manoeuvre, May’s 20-year reconstruction programme continued; her temporary home at Wells being a former holiday caravan. Conditions there would often be unbearably cold, but she remained doggedly determined to press on; her niece, Christine Adams told the Fakenham Ladies Circle Club in 1971:

“My mother brought us up to believe there’s no such word as can’t” and this possibly fuelled her determination to continue and succeed.”

Two years later, the main framework had been fixed to the foundations by a local carpenter and May had also started to infill the brickwork; her still somewhat limited experience of this skill had been honed during her previous repair of the same house at Ware, that skill would be honed further over the coming years; but she was determined to lay every single brick perfectly – and it might still be another eight years before the roof tiles were put in place and the property made watertight.



By her 70s, May had almost moved in as the house now stood proudly in its new surroundings. Each old oak beam had been correctly placed, the brickwork nearly completed and most walls plastered. Despite her age, she still continued to build, climbing the layers of scaffolding daily to reach the upper floors, top windows or whatever else required her attention. By 1986, the Queen had heard of May’s incredible project and immediately invited her to a garden party at Buckingham Palace. But now it seemed, May was running out of steam and in 1992 she installed a small wood-burner stove to heat the ‘new’ house, while already having difficulty climbing ladders. She also found cement work ‘a bit heavy’. Her failing health sometimes required home visits from the local doctor but reputedly, such conversations were only exchanged through the letterbox!

During 1993, May Savidge passed away peacefully, in the Wells Cottage Hospital just before her 82nd birthday, with the house still unfinished. The walls were up and the roof was on, but overall, it was still little more than a shell. However, in her Will the property had been left to members of her family and after May’s death, they subsequently finished it over the ensuing 15 years. Still standing not far from The Buttlands it is now the home of May niece, Christine Adams – and a B&B.

May’s house today.

But there’s still one more story to tell about Miss May Savidge; she was, on the side, a collector extraordinaire and perhaps even a hoarder. It was a fact that May had filled her home to possibly resemble an overstocked curiosity shop. In the garden, were nine side-saddles, as relics of a bygone age. Boxes of unworn wartime nurses’ bonnets and May’s Service Medals lay inside heavy trunks, stacked to ceiling height. She kept packets of old-fashioned soap powder, Omo and Oxydol, alongside bottles of J Collis Browne’s Mixture, the Victorian cure-all.


There were thousands of train, bus and trolley bus tickets, milk bottle tops and notes left by the milkman. She reputedly kept old matchboxes, confectionery wrappers and still more which today, might be items eagerly sought by collectors or dealers. And in 440 diaries, she had listed every daily action carried out, revealing life in a Britain now lost – e.g., the use of farthings, florins, half-pennies, half-crowns, shillings, three-penny pieces, milk churns, chains, furlongs, yards, ounces, telegrams and typewriters on a much longer list. It was much of these memorabilia that was sold in order to raise funds to complete the renovation project left by May after she died.

May Savidge at Wells.


She clearly had much dogged determination to pursue a passion that existed long before conservation became fashionable. May Savidge had decided to move her home lock, stock and barrel across Britain from the busy Ware High Street in Hertfordshire to peaceful Norfolk around 100 miles away. What a remarkable lady and such an incredible task she undertook!


A Lifetime in the Building: The Extraordinary Story of May Savidge and the House She Moved, by Christine Adams with Michael McMahon, published by Aurum.
Christopher Weston, Norfolk Archive 2021.
Images: Courtesy of Christine Adams.

NOTICE: ‘Norfolk Tales, Myths & More!’ is a ‘non-commercial’ Site seeking only to be informative and educational on topics broadly related to the history and heritage of the County of Norfolk in the U.K.
Further Note:
If you are the originator/copyright holder of any photo or content contained in this blog and would prefer it be excluded or amended, please contact us via our ‘Contact Us’ page to flag it for correction.
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A Poet, His Friend and Overstrand’s ‘Mill House’.

By Haydn Brown.

The North Norfolk coastal village of Overstrand was not really discovered until the late 19th-century. Before then the hamlet was quiet, sleepy and simply a remote fishing village. Even nearby Cromer was still a small but selected watering-hole; that was until the area was ‘exposed’ by the London journalist, Clement Scott, followed by its easy accessibility afforded by the railways. In August 1883 the first in a series of articles, written by Scott, were to change the face of Overstrand and Cromer when they appeared in the Daily Telegraph. Visitors soon came flocking to see for themselves this romantic haven – Poppyland, of which Scott had dreamt up and written about.

Many stayed at the Mill House, the owner of which was miller, Alfred Jermy, and his daughter, Louie; they became celebrities and Mill House became a centre for visiting literati; thus turning it into a meeting place for poets, actors, playwrights and a bohemian retreat. The poet A.C. Swinburne, together with his companion Theodore Watts-Dunton, came to stay there. During that time, it was Swinburne who, despite his problem with alcoholism, used to bathe in the sea off Sidestrand and manage to produce a number of poems about the location; these later would appear in his ‘A Midsummer Holiday’ in 1884.

Algernon Charles Swinburne, 1862, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

Algernon Charles Swinburne was born in London on 5 April 1837; he was the eldest of six children born to Captain Charles Henry Swinburne (1797–1877) and Lady Jane Henrietta, daughter of the 3rd Earl of Ashburnham, a wealthy Northumbrian family. As a child, Swinburne was “nervous” and “frail,” but “was also fired with nervous energy and fearlessness to the point of being reckless.” He also developed a lifelong passion for the sea, hence his nickname ‘Seagull’ – for he was never to be far from a seashore. Apart from his development into an adult, his appearance along the way was described by Elizabeth Jones:

“…… that he had both the appearance and the sound of a fragile child. Red hair crowned a strangely large head that sat on the sloping shoulders of a small, wiry body. A high-pitched voice and a tendency towards nervous fits characterised a man who was nevertheless polite and popular.”

It was whilst at Oxford that Swinburne was to meet his long-lasting friend Walter Theodore Watts-Dunton. It was also from Oxford that the poet was expelled in 1860 and therefore never attained a degree.

Theodore Watts-Dunton by Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1874. National Portrait Gallery 4888

Swinburne’s poetry, certainly in his younger days, was strongly influenced by the Pre-Raphaelite painters’ ‘medievalism’, which often linked love and sadness; however, his early works, despite attracting some degree of enthusiasm, inspired a storm of abuse from critics. One critic denounced Swinburne as “unclean for the sake of uncleanliness”, whilst another wanted censorship of his poems for their “pagan spirit”. The popularity of an article entitled ‘The Fleshly School of Poetry’ was said to have been assisted by the scandalous accounts of the poet’s lifestyle.

Rumours were rife of Swinburne’s “homosexual affairs, cannibal dinners, bestiality and patronage of flagellation brothels.” Wild outbursts brought on by his inability to control his drinking contributed to his sinking reputation. One American newspaper paper called him “a perfect leper and a mere sodomite,” whilst the famous ‘Punch’ magazine referred to his surname as “Swineborn.” It was somewhat surprising therefore that by the 1890’s Swinburne was being hailed “as the greatest living English poet,” – and Queen Victoria by 1892 had even considered him as a replacement for Tennyson, the late poet laureate! However, Prime Minister William Ewart Gladstone was not of the same mind and told Queen Victoria:

“I fear he is absolutely impossible. And I must own to have been astounded at the terms in which The Times (17th) described his early outrages. It is a sad pity: I have always been deeply impressed by his genius.”

But, the public’s attitude towards the poet was to change, and responsibility for this was said to have been down to his now firm-friend, Walter Theodore Watts-Dunton. When Swinburne’s drinking threatened his own life, Watts-Dunton quickly removed him from London and set up a home for them both at Putney. For the remaining thirty years of his life, Swinburne lived a calm, sober and respectable existence at ‘The Pines’, protected and seemingly controlled by his friend.

Swinburne often referred to Watts-Dunton, as his ‘Major’, a term that summed up their relationship. Swinburne would be kept to a strict regime of healthy walks and meals, polite conversation and a little writing. All visitors were vetted by Watts-Dunton, who also actively discouraged Swinburne’s past friends, together with any visits to their home in the interests of peace and quiet. Praise and persuasion were used to keep Swinburne away from his favourite drinks, and also from the latent pull of attempting to shock the reading public. Instead, Watts-Dunton encouraged the writing of descriptive poems on nature and odes to various heroes. Because of this he was criticised for a lack of insight into Swinburne’s talent. It was said of Watts-Dunton that he saved the man but killed the poet.

As for a further description of Watts-Dunton, he was described as genteel, suburban but professional; he was also said to have possessed “a genius for friendship”. Through this and his “apparent self-confidence”, he won the devotion of several men, one of which was Swinburne – it would seem that Watts-Dunton “pulled many of the strings that moved the rest.” However, a contemporary of his referred to him as a “bright-eyed, umpire-like little man.” It was also said that Watts-Dunton once hid Swinburne’s boots to prevent him from going out; certainly, he concealed chapters of the novel ‘Lesbia Brandon’ until after Swinburne was dead because he was so anxious to prevent its publication.

But, as it was, ever year the two spent time by the sea, often at Southwold; but by the September of 1883 the Overstrand was the regular destination for both men who were inspired by the romantic beauty of the imaginary Poppyland landscape, “for too long the area had been sadly neglected by romantics.” Both men, it seems, found the experience awesome.

On the grass of the cliff, at the edge of the steep,
God planted a garden – a garden of sleep!
Near the blue of the sky, in the green of the corn,
It is there that the regal red poppies are born!

A deserted graveyard and church tower on the poppy-covered cliffs provided another fruitful source of inspiration for the poets. It was this spot that had moved Clement Scott to write his poem ‘The Garden of Sleep’ and to name the area Poppyland. Swinburne revealed at the time that he disliked places like Cromer, preferring isolated, unspoilt areas of the coast. His appreciation of the peace and beauty of Poppyland and Overstrand was continually in evidence.

Cromer’s Bath House Hotel mid 19th century.

Following a short stay at Cromer’s Bath Hotel, these two friends settled into Overstrand’s Mill House; they would be the guests of Alfred Jermy and his daughter Louie Jermy. Swinburne wrote of the delights of the place when he wrote to his sister, Alice:

“The whole place is fragrant with old-fashioned flowers, sweet William and thyme and lavender and mignonette and splendid with great sunflowers.”

His enthusiasm for the picturesque cottage and its scented garden produced his poem ‘The Mill Garden’. Also, Swinburne had always enjoyed swimming, particularly when the sea was very rough, and declared at the Mill House that the bathing at Overstrand “to be far superior to that at Southwold”.

“Louie of the Blackberry Puddings”, or the “Maid of the Mill” as Jermy’s daughter was nicknamed, must have made her literary guests very welcome at the house, for they returned year after year. However, the villagers of Overstrand must also have been somewhat wary of these two strangers, but particularly Swinburne who, by this time was “the most talked about man in England.”

An old image of Mill House. Credit Literary Norfolk.
The Mill House today. Credit Jermy Org.


Towards the close of the 19th-century, owing to the influx of the rich and famous, Overstrand became known as the “village of millionaires.” Politicians and publishers bought property there, amongst them Churchill and Sir Frederick Macmillan. Clement Scott’s writing drew a host of artists to stay at the Mill House and nearby, including Ellen Terry, Henry Irving, Edward Burne-Jones, and the Punch artist George Du Maurier.

Louie Jermy, thrived on caring for her bohemian guests. She had aspirations towards the theatre herself that were never realised, except in terms of the many friendships she made in the theatrical world. After World War One the character of Louie’s guests was to change and she had to contend with “midnight bathes, hilarious singing and shouting, and a growing laxity of general behaviour.” In The Referee in 1919, George Sims paid tribute to her: “Miss Jermy of Poppyland has been the guardian angel of famous men. Swinburne wrote some of his finest poetry at her house.”

For Swinburne and his friend, Watts-Dunton, holidays at the Mill House was an important part of their lives, for it inspired both men to write of their experiences there. Their friendship was one firmly based on a common passion for the arts, poetry in particular, and it survived over a period of seventy years until Swinburne’s death in 1909 at the age of 72 years.


Source: Jones, Elizabeth. 1984. The Poppyland Poets. Norfolk Fair. Sep. 26-27


‘Old’ Crome, the ‘Norwich School’ and Much Else!

By Haydn Brown.

My other hobby is oil painting – landscape painting. Having ‘cut my teeth’ with those of John Constable many years ago. I later discovered John ‘Old’ Crome and, apart from his paintings, I soon became interested in the man’s background; for, apart from some 200 years between us, we share certain aspects: such as same county, city, locations of work, home, painting, church – and public houses! So why shouldn’t I follow his trail, and maybe dream; and, hopefully, with you in tow:

Riding on the backs of sheep and cloth, Norfolk was once rich; it was also at the forefront of the Agricultural Revolution which brought further wealth. Norwich’s mercantile class also blossomed and comfortably melded in with the surrounding country gentry. Between them, privileged society provided a cultured patronage on which aspiring local artists could emerge.

John Crome, (1768 – 1821) was one such artist. He, as many art enthusiasts would know, was a principal English landscape painter of the Romantic era, and one of the founding members of the ‘Norwich School of Painters’. It was he who, in later life, was better known as ‘Old’ Crome; this to distinguish him from his son, John Berney Crome, who painted in his father’s manner but who, in the opinion of some at least, had an inferior talent – but no matter!

St Georges Church in Tombland, Norwich where John ‘Old’ Crome was baptised on Christmas Day 1768. Photo: Julian White.

John Crome was born on 22 December 1768 in an alehouse named the ‘Griffen’ (Griffin)’ which, according to Hocksetters Map of 1789 used to be in the Castle Meadow/ Tombland area of the city, near the corner of Tombland and Upper King Street, on what was then called Conisford Street in the quarter known as the Castle Ditches. Records show that the building itself dated back to at least 1603, but it completely disappeared when the Prince of Wales Road was constructed in 1860. Here, John Crome’s father, despite being an active weaver by trade, ran the Griffin; it would appear that being in more than one occupation was not an uncommon practice at the time!

On Christmas Day 1768, in St George’s church in Tombland, Crome was baptised. By then, this church had already accumulated a long history, which dated back to at least the 14th century (some say as far back as the late Anglo-Saxon period) – its tower dating from 1445 and then having major repairs in 1645. The font from which John received his baptism was, and remains, of Purbeck marble, not uncommon in many rural East Anglian churches; in 1768 it had yet to be ‘urbanised by enthusiastic Victorians who would place it on grand marble pillars.

An inscription on the above drawing states:
“South Porch of St George, Tombland, Norwich – formerly called ‘St. George at the Gates/of the Holy Trinity’ the Cathedral – A new [19th century?] porch, in the same style, has been erected within the last 15 years in place of the above. I would particularly call attention to the singular form/of the buttresses / HH”. Image: Norfolk Museums Collections.
On the day of Crome’s baptism, this would have been the porch through which the congregation would have walked.

The young boy Crome was later to be described as ‘very likeable’ with a ‘charming character’; even, a ‘loveable rascal’ – with these attributes it may be no surprise to learn that he grew up and lived in Norwich for the whole of his life! However, it was a life which only slowly emerged in any sort of recorded detail when the boy had reached 12 years of age. At that point, in 1781, young Crome had become an errand boy for the eminent city doctor Edward Rigby. Dr Edward Rigby owned an apothecary’s shop, at 54 Giles Street, and it was there where the 12-year-old lived and worked for about three years.

54 St Giles Street, Norwich.
The Rigby family, of husband, wife and fourteen children shared this corner house with their country residence named Framingham Earl Hall. The St Giles address could well have been where Dr Rigby also had his Practice and Apothecary’s shop, standing as it does on the corner of Rigby Court (formerly Pitt Lane) and St Giles. Rigby Court linked St Giles to Bethel Street. Photo: Evelyn Simak.

Dr. Rigby was to have an initial influential effect on Crome’s life for he appears to have been the first person to recognise Crome’s potential as an artist. As time went on, he introduced him to some of the influential people of that period whom Rigby knew and who were interested in art. In particular, the weaver-turned-banker Gurney family – although of equal importance was to be Thomas Harvey (1748-1819), of Catton House in the village of Old Catton, who would also make an early appearance in Crome’s development.

Dr. Edward Rigby MD, (1747-1821) Physician by Joseph Clover – circa 1819. Portrait: (Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital) – Image: Edward Rigby Clover

Of course, Crome’s personal responsibilities and interests were not expected to be solely directed towards art; there was also the matter of work that he was employed to do for the doctor who, in his own field of skill, was already someone of eminence. But the doctor, it seems, had to handle a sometimes ‘mischievous’ lad in Crome – for the lad had a propensity for pranks, with several stories surviving through time. An example was the occasion when young Crome changed the labels on the medicines that he was delivering on behalf of the doctor! Another, which may have been one which had rebounded on to him, was when he threw the doctor’s medical skeleton out of his bedroom window; it was said that medical students had placed it in his bed for a joke – Boys, it seems, will always be Boys!

Nevertheless, young Crome survived a full three years of employment with Dr Rigby before his employer, having given him lodgings, paid him and nurtured his desire to paint, decided that it was time for Crome to move on – and here, we may have to thank the doctor for what followed. Just around the corner from the apothecary’s shop, stood Francis Whisler’s, Coach and Sign painting business – in Bethel Street. It was there, in August 1783, where Crome began his seven-year apprenticeship, learning first-hand how to mix colours and to appreciate what these substances could produce in the right hands. Clearly a precocious lad, with an ability to apply paint to canvas, board and paper with effect, he had taken the first steps in establishing his preferred career path.

Fast forward now to today; and surviving in the Victoria & Albert Museum in London is believed to be the earliest known example of Crome’s work, produced during the time of his apprenticeship, which was between 1783 and no later than 1790. The painting is known as ‘The Wherryman’; it was a sign which must have formerly hung outside a public house – and it would be interesting to know where?  In 1906, an auction in Norwich first brought this signboard back into the light and, at that time, it was sold for the price of twelve guineas. The V & A Museum’s description of the work is as follows:

‘The Wherryman’
“Figure in the centre foreground is wearing the dress of a boatman or wherryman. He points to a wherry, which is shown sailing on the Norfolk Broads behind him, with his right hand.”

It was also during the early years of his apprenticeship when Crome became firm friends with an apprenticed printer named Robert Ladbrooke, who was employed by Whites of Norwich. The two boys had serious compatible interests in art and went out together to sketch the streets and lanes around Norwich, and particularly to Mousehold Heath on the outskirts of the city. For a time, they shared a garret studio and between them, sold some of their art-work to a local print seller, Smith and Jaggers of Norwich. At that time Ladbrooke concentrated of portraits whilst Crome on landscapes, which both sold for very small sums. Subsequently, Ladbrooke turned to Landscape painting, in which he was said to have ‘become highly successful’.

Thomas Harvey of Catton by John Opie (1761–1807) – after. Norfolk Museums Service

It has also been said that it was through the print seller, Smith and Jaggers of Norwich, that Crome met Thomas Harvey of Catton; but here it should be remembered that Harvey and Dr Rigby, mentioned earlier, were already friends; and young Crome had been in the employ of the doctor and through ‘introductions’ probably already knew Harvey. That apart, the little extra money that Crome and Ladbroke earned during their excursions went on buying prints of Dutch masters to copy – and Ladbroke was much inspired by Crome’s undoubted superior skills; skills which included the ability to make his own paintbrushes from cat’s hairs, whilst using oyster shells as palettes!

Harvey House in Colegate, Norwich; Thomas Harvey’s city house, which was in addition to his country pad ‘Catton House’, north on the outskirts of Norwich in the village of Old Catton. Image: Courtesy of Reggie Unthank.

When Crome’s apprenticeship ended, in 1790, he began to take up commissions and to give drawing lessons to children of the wealthy. This was also the moment when Crome’s earlier introduction to Thomas Harvey, the wealthy weaver from Old Catton – who also, by the way, had a house in Colgate (see above), really began to pay off.

Thomas Harvey was a rich master weaver who had come from a line of wealthy merchants, ten of whom had been mayors of Norwich. Harvey had married a Ann Twiss, the daughter of an English merchant living in Rotterdam who had an important collections of paintings, which included Thomas Gainsborough’s ‘Cottage Door’ (see below), plus several of the Dutch School. These eventually passed into the Harvey family and to Thomas who was something of an artist himself, but very much of the amateur kind. His wealth also allowed him to build up his collection of Dutch masters, some of which had come from Antwerp dealers; these were supplemented by paintings from other artists, including those of Richard Wilson and Miendert Hobbema.

Thomas Gainsborough – The Cottage Door. By Thomas Gainsborough, circa 1773. Commons Wikimedia.

When Harvey became Crome’s patron, both his own studio at Catton House and his art collection became available to the young artist and he, it seems, became particularly influenced by the Wilson and Hobbema paintings – and their ‘ability to give landscape paintings a sense of space and breadth’. Given this patronage, Crome certainly visited Catton House frequently; and it is probably quite true that, for a time at least, Crome may have lived there. This would have been of real benefit when it came to Crome actually copying these paintings as part of his further development, thus ensuring that the qualities and colour aspects of these two masters would feature in Crome’s future works and teachings.

Thomas Harvey’s ‘Catton House’ years later. He, along with other members in the Harvey line, had a considerable presence in Old Catton. It was Thomas who had built the above Catton House, and then there was Robert Harvey whole lived at ‘The Grange’, not to mention Jeremiah Ives Harvey at Eastwood. Image: Courtesy of the Old Catton Society.

Catton House was also the place where young Crome met other artists, such as Sir William Beechey R.A. and later, John Opie. Then there was Sara Siddons the famous actress who was related by marriage to Harvey’s wife, Anne; as a consequence, Siddons was reputed to have given ‘a Reading’ before an invited audience at Catton House in October 1793. But it was Sir William Beechey who saw Crome’s promise as an artist and gave him some lessons – all be it in London. Beechey was also the one who described Crome as:

‘…. an awkward country lad when I first met him, but shrewd in all his remarks on art, although he wanted words to express them’.

This post-apprenticeship period was certainly a busy one for Crome one way or another; included in which was an activity that had little to do with painting – romance! He had met Phoebe Berney and in the October of 1792, they married at St Mary’s Church, Coslany; just in time, for by the 30th of that same month, their first child, Amelia, arrived! Quite a relationship one would suppose since the couple were to go on to produce eleven children in total during their marriage. However, four were to die in infancy and Amelia died shortly before her second birthday. Two of their surviving sons, John Berney Crome and William Henry Crome (1806–67). were to follow in their father’s footsteps to become well-known artists in their own right.

Robert Ladbrooke who, unsurprisingly, had been present at Crome’s wedding in 1792 followed his close friend one year later when he married Phoebe Berney’s sister, Mary.

St Mary Coslany Church, Norwich. Photo: Steve Adams.

Either side of his domestic life, Crome continued to paint and, increasingly, to build up his contacts and clients. By 1796 he was teaching sketching to Master Sparshall, the son of the Quaker wine merchant who lived in St Clements Alley which, incidentally, was quite near to Thomas Harvey’s town house in Colgate. The Sparshall house itself had previously been the residence of Alexander Thurston, the 17th century Mayor and MP for Norwich.

Then in 1798, Crome accepted a post as drawing master to the three daughters of Quaker and business-man, Joseph Gurney of Earlham Hall. It was also the year when John Opie painted Crome’s portrait. This may have been during the time leading up to May of 1798 when Opie married Amelia Alderson, a gifted poet and authoress, whom he had met at a party in Norwich. Also, in that same year, John Opie was not only in Norfolk visiting Thomas Harvey in his home at Catton House but, principally, carrying out some commissions for Thomas Coke at Holkham Hall.

John Crome’ 1798 by John Opie.
Here, Crome has turned 30 years of age. John Opie’s oil painting captures, as an art critic once described: “A handsome young man whose heavy brows, full lips, thick black hair and brooding, perceptive countenance suggest deep waters. Norwich Museum & Art Gallery.

By this time, Crome had become a Freemason, joined the Philosophical Society and the ‘Dirty Shirt Club’, which met in the Rifleman’s Arms in Calvert Street, across from Cross Lane which in turn led to St George’s Street. There, a group of like-minded characters, smoked ‘churchwarden’ pipes and enjoyed a drink or two with other members of the ‘Dirty Shirt Club’ – the origins of which were said to be as follows:

“The Rifleman was located in an industrial area of shoe and weaving industry workers. And through this, came an unusual if not ingenious idea to attract more customers to the pub. The normal working week in such trades was then six days during which their workers clothing unavoidably became dirty. So, one Master Weaver arranged with the Rifleman for him to ‘set up shop’ in the bar on Saturday afternoons so that he could pay his out-workers when they came in to have a drink to end the week.

The former Rifleman Arms in Cross Lane, off St George’s Street, Norwich. Image: George Plunkett.

Not only were they paid, but naturally arriving dirty, the distribution of wages was accompanied by a change of shirt with a clean one provided for the following week. The number of people “enjoying” this opportunity, led to the formation of the ‘Dirty Shirt Club’. While enjoying a drink or two and a gossip, members also smoked their own churchwarden clay pipes, given to them on entry. Each member’s initials were inscribed on the bowl and pipes were kept aside for them by the publican, between visits. Any new members had honour of smoking from a silver pipe. From the early 1800s, ‘Old’ Crome was a regular visitor, and had his own special chair – witnessing everything.”

Origins of sketch unknown.

By 1801, Crome had established a school of art in his house at 17 Gildencroft, possibly Green Lane (now demolished) and later took up a post as drawing master at the King Edward Grammar School which lay within the shadows of the Cathedral in Norwich. At the Grammar School he helped the sons and daughters of the Norfolk gentry and middle-class, as well as private pupils to learn to paint and draw. Amongst these pupils were notable artists of the future, such as James Stark and Edward Thomas Daniel. There was also George Borrow’s brother, John – who was to paint George Borrow’s portrait in 1821, whilst the latter was working as a solicitor’s clerk in London

The Poringland Oak by John ‘Old’ Crome, circa. 1818–20.
Here Crome depicts the open heath at Poringland. His painting centres on a large oak tree that would have been familiar to locals. The warm glow of the setting sun and the carefree bathers give the scene an idyllic feeling. Crome may have painted this for nostalgic reasons of knowing Dr Edward Rigby who owned nearby Framingham Earl Hall and who, by 1819, had enclosed the Poringland heath for over a decade for his tree planting scheme. John Crome’s painting of the Poringland Oak was to become the inspiration behind the present Poringland village sign. Image: Tate Gallery.

In 1802, and by way of an extension to the business of tutoring the Gurney’s three daughters in art, Crome was invited to join the whole Gurney family on a tour of the Lake District. Sometime after their return to Norwich, on 19 February 1803 to be precise, Crome, together with his long-standing friend, artist and printer Robert Ladbrooke, became the principal movers in the foundation of the ‘The Norwich Society of Artists’; this was later to become famously known as the ‘Norwich School of Painters’ — the first art movement in England to be formed outside London. The term ‘Norwich School’ was coined because its style reflected landscape painting which had moved away from European influences, which favoured warm, burnt-brown palettes. The Norwich School replaced these with the verdant greens actually seen in the Norfolk landscape. It was Old Crome himself, through the Society, who had advocated that paintings should look ‘only to nature’, a statement that regularly appeared in the Society’s exhibitions catalogues at the time.

It is not known whether it was Crome or Ladbrooke who first raised the idea of forming this debating/exhibiting society in Norwich, but the two’s growing involvement with local art patrons and fellow artists probably made it inevitable that such a body would emerge – to be added to the many other clubs and societies that were flourishing in Norwich at the time? The purpose of the Crome/Ladbroke version was, from the outset to be:

“An Enquiry into the Rise, Progress and Present State of Painting, Architecture and Sculpture, with a view to point out the Best Methods of Study to attain to Great Perfection in these Arts”

1810 portrait of Robert Ladbrooke – by an unknown artist! Wikipedia.

Also, the Norwich Society of Artists promoted, from the outset,  an ‘open-door’ policy whereby no one was turned away who had a genuine interest in art. The only criteria to joining was for each to submit a piece of their own and to secure a place via a ballot of existing members. These members consisted of active painters in oils and watercolours, and included such people as John Sell Cotman, Joseph Stannard and ‘Old’ Crome’s artist son John Berney Crome, Robert Dixon, Charles Hodgson, Daniel Coppin, James Stark, George Vincent and of course others. Some would have seemingly worked under Crome’s influence, with a bias in favour of Norfolk scenery – the slow-flowing rivers and gnarled trees, the people and places of their home city and the Norfolk coast.

Sir Benjamin Wrench’s Court off Little Cockey Lane was demolished in 1826 to make way for the first version of Norwich’s  Corn Exchange (red star) which, in the long term, ended up as the Jarrold’s Department Store. Also suggested here is not only old ‘The Hole-in-the-Wall’ Lane, but also the location of the tavern of the same name (purple star). As per Millard and Manning’s plan of Norwich 1830 – Courtesy of Reggie Unthank and Norfolk County Council.

Throughout, the Society’s meetings were held fortnightly at the ‘Hole in the Wall’ tavern, which was destined to be demolished by 1838. Its actual location of this tavern is not clear today; time and changes to street layout etc. have seen to that. However, it has been said by the likes of George Plunkett that it was once near the St Andrews Street end of the Hole in the Wall Lane, and built into a part of the east wall of the chancel of the Church of St. Crowche, most of which had itself been demolished as far back as the 16th century. The tavern must have also stood very near to what is now the lower section of Exchange St. It was said that at the time pedestrians had to walk round the old churchyard to get into St Andrew’s. Today, all that remains of both the tavern, and St Crowche, is a mediaeval stone corbel set in a flint wall off the north side of St Andrew’s Street.

As for the Norwich Society of Artists, its evenings at the tavern were taken up with ‘taking supper listening to the presentations of papers’; for this, there was a yearly subscription of 4 Guineas to maintain membership.

Sir Benjamin Wrench’s Court, off Little Cockey Lane, Norwich by David Hodgson (1798–1864). Norfolk Museums Service.

By 1805, the Society had enough paintings to present their first exhibition, hosted at Sir Benjamin Wrench’s Court, which was off Little Cockey Lane and not far from Little London Street; Crome contributed twenty-two works. This venue was later to became the home of the Society. From that point onwards, and until 1825, these exhibitions were held annually and coinciding with the city’s Summer Assizes Week when many people from the surrounding area visited the city and where amusements took place. Norwich became the first English city to establish regular art exhibitions outside London.

John ‘Old’ Crome was to become the president of the Society on several occasions up until his death in 1821, but when he was again elected in 1808, his long-standing friend, Robert Ladbrooke was elected as Vice-President. However, in 1816 Ladbrooke, Stannard, Thirtle and a few other members – Ladbroke having also fallen out with Crome – broke away from the Society to set up and run rival exhibitions; but these proved a failure and were ended after three years. Ladbroke and Crome were reconciled at just about the same time; maybe simply because theirs had been a long-standing friendship; it was a friendship between entirely different characters though:

“Crome was found of company, a ‘dashing fellow’ and with great ideas; whereas, Ladbroke was ‘plodding, prudent and took great care of what cash came his way; he taught his family likewise”.

St George Church, Colegate, Norwich, Norfolk. Photo: Courtesy of John Salmon.

Finally, on 14 April 1821 and after a few days’ illness, John ‘Old’ Crome died at his house in Green Lane, Gildengate, and his death certificate recorded that he had died of ‘an inflammatory malady induced by early labours as a house painter’!  On the 27th of that same month, his remains were interred in St George’s church Colegate – a mere stones-throw away from his home and his local, ‘The Rifleman’. The local paper reported that ‘an immense concourse of people’ attended his funeral at St Georges, which had been his church and where, in later life, he became its churchwarden. It was an appropriate place in which to mount a memorial tablet to him.

John Crome’s memorial plaque in St Georges Church at Colgate. Whilst some may feel that it is nothing spectacular, it does display a nice clean-line relief profile of the man; also a palette and brushes below and a laurel wreath over his head.

When ‘Old’ Crome died in 1821, John Sell Cotman became President of ‘The Norwich Society of Artists’; its activities continuing until his own departure for London in 1834. It was at that point when Cotman actually closed the Society and many former members and their pupils went off elsewhere to continue painting and exhibiting.

Crome’s grave in St. George’s Church ,Colegate, Norwich. Wikipedia.

Surprisingly perhaps, Crome and what was known as the ‘Norwich School’ had been little known outside Norfolk; that is, until the late twentieth century. This was due mainly to the fact that many of Crome’s paintings, together with paintings of other ‘Norwich School’ members, were bought privately by the J.J. Colman family. It was in 1946 when Russell James Colman donated these to the city’s Castle Museum. He also gave money in order for the museum to build a gallery to house them in a permanent display.

Following the death of ‘Old’ Crome, during the November of 1821, the Norwich Society of Artists held a memorial exhibition of more than 100 of Crome’s works in the city. During his life, however, he had exhibited an estimated number of 307 pictures, 16 of which had been exhibited in London – and none of which had been signed. It appears somewhat strange that Crome, above all, never signed any of his paintings. Bearing in mind that his pupils and sons had been trained by Crome on the basis of copying his works, meant that it has always been difficult, or impossible indeed, to verify which are ‘Old’ Crome’s paintings and which are replicas!

It is also a sad fact that when Old Crome died, he was in debt – to the sum of £145 owed to the Gurney’s Bank. Nevertheless, John ‘Old’ Crome was and remains, in my eyes at least, as an artist of considerable repute.


  1. An incident in Crome’s life was the subject of the one-act opera ‘Twice in a Blue Moon’ by Phyllis Tate, to a libretto by Christopher Hassall: it was first performed in 1969. In the story Crome and his wife split one of his paintings, depicting Mousehold Heath, in two to sell each half at the Norwich Fair.
  2. Part of the front of Stranger’s Hall was once the home of sculptor Pellegrino Mazzotti; it was he who produced a bust of John Crome; today, a ‘blue plaque’ on Its wall refers to this.


Heading Image: John Crome by Denis Brownell Murphy, watercolour and pencil, exhibited 1821. National Portrait Gallery.

Sources Generally Referred to Include (and in no particular order):
(Chillers, Ian (ed), The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Art and Artists, Oxford University Press, 1990).
The Norwich School of Painters | COLONEL UNTHANK’S NORWICH (colonelunthanksnorwich.com)
In Focus: John Croome, the ‘mouse that roared’ of the art world – Country Life
Walking Crome’s Norwich self guided trail (1).pdf

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An Esteemed Black Member of Yarmouth’s 19th Century Middle Class.

By Haydn Brown.

The story of Edward Steele, and his sister Katherine Anne Steele, is of middle-class life. For Edward, it was in around Norwich and Great Yarmouth, but began in the heart of Caribbean slavery. Here, his story contrasts to the evils of a life forced upon someone who was of African descent, and the freedom and status achieved by him in Norfolk. His story, bought to you thanks to Richard C. Maguire, offers a brief insight into the issue of race in 19th-century Norfolk Society.

Edward Steele, Esq:
Edward Steele, Esq resided for many years in Regent Road, Yarmouth following his retirement from the military; first at No 8 then later at No 13. There he was long known and highly respected in the town’s society, despite being born in Barbados in 1785. For many years he had been an officer in the East Norfolk Regiment of Militia but died in 1873, in his 89th year, unmarried and having retained his faculties almost to the last.

Regent Road, Yarmouth at the turn of the 19th century. Public Domain.

There is no reason to think that Edward Steele had any connection to the history of Norfolk’s Black population. In fact, his story, and that of his sister Katherine Ann Steele, began in the heart of Caribbean slavery and racism. Both Edward Steele and his sister were born enslaved, the illegitimate children of a plantation owner in Barbados called Joshua Steele, from whom they presumably were named.

Joshua Steele (1700-1791):
Little is known of Joshua Steele’s life before 1750, but he eventually became an accomplished 18th-century ‘Gentleman and Scholar’. In 1750, he married a wealthy widow, Sarah Hopkins Osborn who had inherited a large plantation on the island of Barbados, called Hallett’s, which in 1774 held 131 enslaved people. She also had the lease of two other plantations that bordered Hallett’s: Byde Mill House plantation, which held 102 enslaved people and Kendalls, which held 184 enslaved people in 1774.


When Joshua’s wife died in 1757, he found himself the possessor of both enslaved people and plantations. Although interested in how this income might be increased, Steele showed no interest in the welfare of his enslaved people and kept silent about his own ownership status in general discussions.  Nonetheless, he needed the income from these plantations to fund his lifestyle and from 1775 he became increasingly concerned over their falling cash-flow, beginning to attend meetings of the Society of West India Merchants and Planters, which had been established to protect the interest of absentee landlords such as himself.

In 1780 Steele, possibly now eighty years of age, travelled to Barbados to examine his estates. There he was confronted with the reality that he had avoided for so many years. Appalled by, what he termed, the ‘brutality of my species’ Steele spent the next decade challenging the accepted way in which plantations were run. To the delight of abolitionists in England, he implemented changes such as banning the use of the whip, paying his slaves, having them sit in courts to judge their fellows, and even established a system of tenancy.


Steele remained on Barbados until his death in 1796 and fathered two children with Anna Slatia, one of the enslaved women on the Byde Mill plantation. The children were Edward, born in 1785, and Katherine (birth date unknown). The children remained enslaved, as did their mother. However, a few hours before Joshua died, he changed his Will. He left his plantation to his sister, Mary Ann Steele and his children, stating that the plantation was not to:

‘Become the property of any other person claiming in right of my said children, who are now slaves, but for their own proper benefit and not otherwise.’

As Joshua had probably intended, his Will led to a major court case. Firstly, disagreement flared between Mary Steele and the executor, Francis Bell, when Mary proposed to sell the plantation to a planter named Phillip Gibbes – disinheriting Edward and Katherine. Francis Bell, to his credit, disagreed. Mary Steele died before the matter was settled and Bell assumed control of the plantation. Gibbes continued litigation, however, claiming that his agreement with Mary Steele should be honoured, because Edward and Katherine, as slaves, had no rights!

The case was eventually dealt with and the wishes of Joshua Steele were ignored; the idea that enslaved people could be allowed to hold property was so dangerous that it was not allowed to be entertained in the Barbados courts.

Yet, while Edward and Katherine lost their inheritance, they did not remain enslaved. Francis Bell arranged for Edward and Katherine to be freed and for them to travel to England. Now free for the first time in their lives, the children received the education appropriate for the children of a gentleman such as Joshua Steele. Katherine went to a finishing school in Camberwell, London, while Edward was sent to school with Bell’s own son in Norwich. It seems possible that Bell may have been connected to the Bell family of Beaupré Hall in Outwell, Norfolk and that this led to Edward’s connection with the county of Norfolk.


Bell had been a loyal confederate of Joshua Steele for many years, and his allegiance to his friend’s last wishes was instrumental in enabling Edward and Katherine to make the transition from lives as enslaved people to lives as fully integrated members of Norfolk and London society.

Katherine Anne Steele:
Unfortunately, little is known about Katherine’s life after she arrived in England. Katherine married on 17 July 1807, in the St James Church, Clerkenwell, London. The man she married was ‘Henry White Esq.’ of the Parish of St Paul, Covent Garden, London. Although the marriage record lists her as ‘Catherine Ann Steele’, she signed it as ‘Katherine Anne Steele’. Katherine had married well, with no indication that her heritage as a mixed-race, formerly enslaved, woman had any impact upon her marriage prospects in early 19th-century England. The couple had at least one child, Mary Ann White, who became the major beneficiary of her uncle Edward’s estate on his death in 1883, where he described her as his ‘dear niece’ and the daughter of his late sister ‘Katherine Anne White’.

A Return to Edward:
It is not known where in Norwich Edward was schooled; however, he was to make his permanent home in Yarmouth, and it appears that this was a consequence of his military service. Edward served with the East Norfolk Regiment of militia for many years, although he is also recorded as being a member of the ‘Norfolk Regular Militia’ at one point.

Officer of the Norfolk Militia, 1759. Wikimedia.

He made steady progress through the junior officer ranks, being listed as a Lieutenant in 1824 and 1826, but had become a Senior Lieutenant in 1832. It may be that he eventually rose to the rank of Captain, since his 1873 obituary in The Ipswich Journal, listed him as ‘formerly Captain in the East Norfolk Militia’.

The Royal Barracks, Great Yarmouth (looking south, with the coast on the left). Wikiwand.com.

Edward had, up to at least 1841, lived at the Royal Barracks, Yarmouth, which were situated at the South Denes. The barracks had begun as a naval hospital in 1809, and was was later converted to a general military barracks, capable of accommodating about one hundred men. It may have been that he was resident in one of the ‘four excellent family houses, for officers belonging to the establishment, handsomely constructed with every requisite for convenience, and suitable to the comfort of the inhabitants’ that were to be found in the courtyard.

During this period Edward appears to have had a full social calendar and to have been actively engaged in the intellectual life of the town. Three letters from him while living at the Royal Barracks survive, giving us a small glimpse into his life during late 1833. All the letters were written to Charles John Palmer (1805-82), the Yarmouth antiquary and historian. The first two letters, from June and September 1833, were written in respect of a manuscript entitled ‘Love and Money’ that Palmer had written. Steele promised to examine the manuscript and ‘endeavour to form a proper opinion of it’. Having done so, he was able to inform Palmer that the manuscript was missing certain pages. The other letter relates to social engagements.

In December 1833, Palmer invited Edward Steele to spend Christmas at his house, but Edward had already agreed to spend it with his ‘my old neighbour Mr Buckle at Hethersett’. It is clear that Edward and Charles Palmer were good friends, for Edward was also involved in Palmer’s editing of ‘Manship’s History of Great Yarmouth’ and was one of the subscribers to the completed work.

Antique Steel Vignette – “St. Nicholas Church, Yarmouth” published by W Cobb & Co, Quay

Edward was also involved in his local church, St Nicholas. Described in 1806 as being in ‘a very decayed state’ St. Nicholas saw a series of restoration projects during the 19th-century. In 1840 Edward was one of a group of local gentlemen who established a committee to raise the funds required to restore the church’s organ, which was described as:

‘Once the pride of, but now the town’s disgrace’.

Whereas other restoration projects at the church caused some controversy, the organ project was successfully managed by Edward Steele and the other committee members, and the completion of the repairs in 1844 was seen as a major success for the town’s community. Edward also appeared to have found such activity suitable for his talents, as he was also responsible for supervising the restoration of the organ at The Chapel of Saint George, King Street, (which was a chapel of ease for St Nicholas), in 1844. His talent in this area appears to have become known across the County, since around 1850 he also designed the wainscot for the organ at All Saints, Necton, which lies to the west of Norwich.

The Chapel of St George,  King Street, Great Yarmouth 1891. Francis Frith.

Sometime between 1841 and 1851 Edward moved to a house at 8 Regent Road following his retirement from army service; the 1851 census shows that he was unmarried, sixty-five years old and a Lieutenant on half-pay. His household consisted of a female servant, Christiana Heighs, who was aged 41 years and unmarried. This arrangement was unchanged a decade later, but at the time of the 1871 census Steele, now eighty-five years old, was cared for by two female servants, Mary Britton, aged 65, and her daughter Charlotte.

Edward’s death, at age eighty-eight, was recorded in the register of the church he had been so heavily involved with. No mention was made of his colour, or of his birthplace, just that he had been born in 1785. Indeed, no official document made any mention of his colour. The censuses of 1841, 1851 and 1861 noted merely that he was born in Barbados. The 1871 census noted on that he was a ‘British subject’. It seems that his access to a good education, and presumably some degree of funds from his father’s estate had given him the necessary entrée into middle-class society. His middleclass credentials appear to have removed any issue of race. Richard C. Maguire further says something on this:

“Indeed, the complete absence of any evidence for racial antipathy towards him is an interesting fact, that should cause us to re-evaluate any preconceptions about attitudes to race in a county such as Norfolk in this period. To most people in Norfolk, it seems that Steele was perceived by his class position rather than his racial heritage, he was simply ‘Edward Steel Esq., gentleman’.”


Source: THE BLACK MIDDLE CLASS IN NINETEENTH- AND EARLY TWENTIETHCENTURY NORFOLK by Richard C. Maguire. Norfolk Archaeology XLVII (2017), 511–522. https://ueaeprints.uea.ac.uk/id/eprint/72271/1/Maguire_NA_2018.pdf

‘Norfolk Tales, Myths & More!’ is a ‘non-commercial’ Site seeking only to be informative and educational on topics broadly related to the history and heritage of the County of Norfolk in the U.K.
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Norfolk in Brief: The Bale Oak.

By Haydn Brown.

The village of Bale can be found just off the A148, which runs from Fakenham towards Cromer. There is some history here, not so much for being mentioned in the Domesday Survey of 1086, but for it’s famous ‘Bale Oak’, once an enormous tree with a trunk 36 feet in circumference. The Bale Oak is said to have been a gathering place for pagan worship before the coming of Christianity. Indeed, it is said the 14th century church of All Saints was built beside the oak, in a place already considered sacred. By the early 18th century, the oak was hollow and it was said that ten men could stand inside its trunk. The then Norfolk historian, Rev. Blomfield, added to the information by recording:

“A great oak at bathele near the church, its hollow so large that ten or twelve men may stand within it and a cobbler had his shop and lodge there of late and it is or was used for a swinestry.”

Bale Oak3
Sir Willoughby Jones © Norwich Civic Portrait Collection

However, in 1795, the oak was severely damaged and was heavily pollarded, with the removed bark and some of the wood sold to the Hardy’s of Letheringsett for tanning. The tree never recovered and was deemed dangerous by the local populace; it was also subjected to abuse and this led to its removal in 1860 on the orders of the Lord of the Manor, Sir Willoughby Jones. There was said to have been much local mourning as the remains of the oak was taken in a cart to Cranmer Hall at Fakenham.

Bale Oak4
Cranmer Hall. Photo: Pinterest.

The site was replanted with a grove of 12 Holm Oaks (Quercus Ilex) and may have been planted to commemorate the Bale Oak, although there is a record of oaks being planted there in 1617. The trees have been National Trust property since 1919, and are now ‘listed’ by that body as a ‘Place of Historic Interest or Natural Beauty’. A wooden sculpture now marks the approximate position of the original Bale Oak tree, and the trees that surround it have now grown to maturity and form a screen between the church and the road.

Bale Oak1
The Bale Oak Site: © Copyright Humphrey Bolton






A Norfolk Woman’s Propensity for Social Status!

By Haydn Brown.

Anne Murry came into this world at Wells-Next-the-Sea, Norfolk on 26 April 1755; she was the daughter of a respectable married couple by the names of Dr John Murray and Mary Boyles. Anne’s father was Scottish by birth and had qualified as physician before marrying and moving with his wife, to Wells – with whatever children they may have had at the time.

Wells was once one of North Norfolk’s major ports capable of handling bulk cargoes such as coal and grain. Its quay heading could accommodate many large vessels. Public Domain.

During her formative years, young Anne was first educated in Fakenham then in 1768, when her father moved both his practice and family to Norwich, Anne attended Mrs Palmer’s boarding-school in the city. However, when her father’s sister, Elizabeth Murray, visited Murry’s family home the following year from Boston in America, she thought young Anne’s education only prepared her for “the gay scenes of life.” Anne’s aunt was indeed an unusual woman for her time, for she believed in the importance of practical business training.

Norwich River by John Crome. Norfolk Museums Service.

Elizabeth Murray had emmigrated to North America in 1739 with her brother James and had become a successful shopkeeper in Boston. Her second husband, a wealthy Boston distiller, had only recently died so she was rich – but childless. On the other hand, her stay in Norwich coincided with the fact that her brother John, Anne’s father, was not; he was struggling to support “a large family”. Elizabeth offered to take responsibility for Dr Murray’s three eldest children, John, Mary, and Anne. The first two were sent to Boston almost immediately; but it was only when aunt Elizabeth returned to America in 1771, that she took Anne with her.

Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts in 1855

Aunt Elizabeth established Mary and Anne in a millinery shop in Boston where Mary looked after the shop and accounts while Anne, according to her aunt was “very industrious at her needle.” When Mary returned to England in 1774, a homesick Anne became the shop’s manager, a position for which she was totally unfitted. She was miserably aware of a milliner’s low social status, and this “loss of Caste” remained a bitter memory all her life. The need for a high social status may have been instilled into Anne by her early upbringing, but it was to stay with her for her lifetime. As an old woman she was to recall the “irreparable humiliation” of her earlier years.

“A Morning Ramble or the Milliner’s Shop.”

Despite her feelings of inferiority, Anne Murray moved freely in Boston mercantile society, where she met a William Dummer Powell, the son of a prominent merchant. William and Anne came to a ‘secret understanding’ which they maintained until the time when they felt able to broach the subject with Anne’s aunt; she reluctantly approving William and Anne’s marriage in 1775; however, her parents’ permission back in Norwich was not obtained. As for William Powell, he did not even ask his father because, as he later wrote, “there was little probability of consent.” William and Anne were married on 3 October 1775 before sailing immediately to England; Both those back in Boston, and by William himself, referred to the move as an ‘elopement’.

The young couple lived in Norfolk and London while William studied law. In 1779 he went to Quebec, leaving Anne and their three sons in Norwich; the following year she re-joined him in Montreal, where he had established his practice. According to the Canadian biographer, Edith G. Firth:

“Anne moved frequently in the next 18 years, following the vagaries of her husband’s career and ambitions. She lived in Montreal (1780–83), Boston (1783–84), North Yarmouth, Mass. (1784–85), Montreal (1785–89), Detroit (1789–91), England (1791–93), Detroit (1793-94), and Newark, later Niagara-on-the-Lake (1794–98). Finally, the Powells moved to York (Toronto), where Anne spent more than 50 years.”

During her travels Anne Powell (nee Murry) became even more preoccupied with the importance of social status and strict decorum, despite (or perhaps because of) her milliner’s past and the impropriety of her marriage. It was important for Anne to perpetuate her ‘principles’ for York, the capital of Upper Canada, had also nurtured early pretensions beyond its size and within a fixed social hierarchy. When Mrs Anne Powell arrived, her husband was a judge, so that her social position was high. Gradually the “vast propriety,” which Thomas Aston Coffin had ascribed to her, and her inflexible morals made her the town’s social arbiter. In 1807–8, for instance, she successfully challenged the Lieutenant Governor Francis Gore himself when he tried to rehabilitate an outcast; and she publicly accused Mrs John Small of adultery! In an age when social status strongly influenced a person’s chances of opportunity and success, Anne Powell’s power was very real.

The Town of York (now Toronto), looking east along Palace Street (now Front Street East), from today’s Jarvis Street at left, to the town’s blockhouse, with flag, at right. Arthur Cox painted this view of York from pencil sketches presumed to be based on a watercolour of York painted by Surgeon Edward Walsh in 1803. The Walsh painting is now in the William L. Clements Library, University of Michigan.

Like the society in which she existed, government was “aristocratical” according to her; she equated political opposition with low origins and unseemly behaviour. In her early years in Upper Canada, she had thought of herself as an American, but the War of 1812 made her vehemently British. She abhorred those who opposed the government, from Robert Thorpe, “an object of contempt & disgust,” to the “Arch fiend” William Lyon Mackenzie. Robert Baldwin was “a good moral character, but a decided Radical”; his cousin Robert Baldwin Sullivan, on the other hand, was “of low origin and . . . profligate habits.” As with other high Tories, her post-rebellion villains were the governors-in-chief themselves – “the false traitor Lord Durham [Lambton]” and “the little great Man,” Lord Sydenham [Thomson], with his “meanness and tyranny.” The “Arch enemy,” however, was John Strachan, whom she blamed for all her husband’s misfortunes in Upper Canada.

When William Powell became chief justice in 1816 Anne’s position was greatly enhanced; however, her hard fought-for social supremacy did not survive the scandal associated with her own daughter, Anne. The essence of her story is that in her girlhood, Anne Powell was much admired. With her mother’s approval she was courted by a “wealthy young Merchant Miller,” but after “a long & earnest suit” young Anne rejected him. Her mother in turn rejected another suitor, “that animal St. George [Laurent Quetton St George],” probably because of his reckless extravagance, wastefulness, and maybe licentious behaviour!

Anne and William Dummer Powell’s house at York St, Toronto.

After an abortive romantic involvement with John Beverley Robinson, the daughter’s behaviour became more and more eccentric. She had many violent arguments with her mother; these were often over the control of Mrs Powell’s two granddaughters who lived with them. By 1820 Mrs Anne Powell was convinced of her daughter’s insanity, and wanted to establish her somewhere away from home:

“but I have every reason to think she will not separate herself quietly from the family, and the Idea of compulsion sickens me.”

In 1822 Anne fled her parents’ house in pursuit of John Robinson and his wife! Young Anne Powell died in a shipwreck off Ireland. Her mother immediately withdrew from society, sickened by the facts, rumours, and innuendoes of a tragedy that had brought disgrace to the family.

In 1825, when William Powell’s political difficulties ended his career, both he and Anne wanted to leave the colonies altogether; she joining her husband in England in 1826, with no intention of returning to Canada. However, she became embroiled in controversy with some of her family over a legacy from her aunt Elizabeth, her former guardian, plus an indiscreet letter she had written to Upper Canada which created a lasting breach with most of her English relatives. Because of their “ebullitions of malevolence,” the Powell’s did return to York, Canada in 1829, where they lived quietly; while there, William Powell’s mental powers declined. After his death in 1834, Anne remained in her old home with her unmarried daughter, Elizabeth. Now deaf and crippled with rheumatism, she rarely went out, but various other members of her family lived with her for extended periods. Anne remained concerned with her charitable activities and with the welfare of her descendants, although “she was increasingly out of touch with their world.”

Right into her old age, Anne Powell faced “unalterable infamy and disgrace” within her own family. One of her granddaughters, Elizabeth Van Rensselaer Powell was divorced for adultery – the first divorce in Upper Canada. In the necessary preliminaries to divorce, her husband sued her lover, Lieutenant John Grogan, and in November 1839 was awarded more than £600 damages and costs. Grogan was thus forced to sell his commission. A Divorce Bill was passed by the Upper Canadian legislature in February 1840, shortly before Elizabeth Van Rensselaer Powell (Mrs Stuart) gave birth to “another victim to her depravity,” but was reserved for Royal Assent. When eventually the Bill became law in June 1841, the lovers married and left the province, but returning the following year. Mrs Anne Powell’s sympathies were entirely with the deserted husband and children; she never forgave her “wicked” granddaughter, and was furious when the Grogans attempted to re-enter society in Kingston!

Throughout her long life, Anne Powell was an inveterate writer of letters. More than 700 of them have survived. The early ones were to friends near Boston, but the bulk of her correspondence was with her brother George, of New York, and William, her husband, who was frequently absent on circuit and on trips to England. She wrote frankly about every detail of her life, family, and community. Never lukewarm in her opinions or their expression, she described such things as the seven-foot geraniums flanking the piano in her drawing-room; and the totally unexpected birth of a baby to an unmarried servant in her employers’ bed. Although she was an outstanding woman in early Toronto, she is equally important as a recorder of life among the élite of Upper Canada, now Ontario. Finally, during William and Anne’s long marriage, the couple had nine children of whom two survived her. Anne Powell, nee’ Anne Murry, formerly of Wells-Next-the-Sea, Norfolk, died on 10 March 1849 in Toronto.


Included in Sources:
Biography – MURRAY, ANNE – Volume VII (1836-1850) – Dictionary of Canadian Biography (biographi.ca)

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Mad Windham’s Rich Pickings at Felbrigg.

By Haydn Brown.

The Windhams—the real Windhams that is—ended with William Windham; later versions were merely Lukins who assumed the name on inheriting the Felbrigg Estate.

William Windham in 1861.

William Windham, the statesman, who, having played a patriotic part as Secretary for War under Pitt from 1794 to 1801, and as Secretary for War and the Colonies in Lord Grenville’s Administration of 1806, died on 4 June 1810, ‘a sad loss to society’. Thomas Grenville voted him ‘a model of an English gentleman’, and Canning ‘the best-bred man in England’. A reflection of William Windham’s younger days was that he had all the outward advantages imaginable: To quote Fanny Burney, who had met him frequently in his capacity as a manager of Warren Hastings’s trial, he was, on first impression:

“one of the most agreeable, spirited, well-bred and brilliant conversers I have ever spoken with ….. a man of family and fortune, with a very pleasing though not handsome face, a very elegant figure, and an air of fashion and vivacity.”

However, his death signalled the end of the high reputation of the Windham’s; what followed was little more than a romance; but a romance which was peculiar. It arrived speedily and, whilst it certainly made the family name of Windham far better known than ever before, it also brought with it a huge chunk of notoriety – rather than enviable fame!

It remains true that the story is sordid, but what it lacks in good feelings, it fully makes up for in human interest – hence the retelling here. This story of Felbrigg and of “Mad Windham” in particular, was the talk of England in the early 1860’s; and, for a long time afterwards, was vividly remembered in Norfolk for it reeked with foulness far beyond the washing of dirty linen in public. It was a tale of family degeneracy, in which the honoured name of Windham should have had no part.

The Lukins – Come Windhams:

When the famous statesman died, the historic property went to his nephew, William Howe Lukin, who assumed the name of Windham, and he married Lady Sophia Hervey, sister of the Marquis of Bristol.

Lady Sophia Elizabeth Caroline Hervey, Lady Sophia Windham (1811-1863). National Trust.

In November, 1854, this self-styled William Howe “Windham” died, leaving a widow and an only son, William Frederick, at that time fourteen years of age. At that tender age he was already, at Eton and elsewhere, an “ill-disposed and uncontrollable buffoon and vicious idiot”. His guardians were his mother and his uncle, General Windham, whose actions and motives were so severely criticised during the notorious “Windham Trial.”

William Frederick Windham. Oil on canvas, c. 1850. Felbrigg, Norfolk. National Trust

William Frederick Windham would, in the ordinary course of events, have come of age and succeeded to his inheritance in 1861 without question; but his conduct as a boy and as a growing man was so outrageous that it was reluctantly decided by General Windham and others to petition for a judicial inquiry into the state of mind of this heir, who, they claimed – to be fully supported by future events by the way – could not be trusted with the management of his own affairs.

The Essential Details of the ‘Windham Trial’:

The “Windham Trial,” began on 16 December 1861, lasted thirty-four days and attracted hugh interest amongst the public; so much so that pamphlets were printed at the time, detailing the dreadful evidence, and selling by thousands.

Title page of The Great Lunacy Case of Mr. W. F. Windham. Reported by a Solicitor. (1862).

The brief details of the case were that the alleged lunatic, William Frederick, was in line to inherit Felbrigg Hall and the rents that with it. In all, he would enjoy a considerable income which, in today’s terms would be around £700,000 per annum – according to one estimate. The petitioners sought to have their ward adjudged ‘incapable’ and for them to be made guardians of the property during his lifetime. To support that contention, they made a long series of allegations, showing that William Frederick had exhibited simple imbecility in childhood, and that with his physical growth his mental powers had declined.

The petitioners further recounted Windham’s idiosyncrasies. At Eton he was a buffoon and commonly known as “Mad Windham.” His indescribable habits led to his being early removed and placed under the care of a long succession of tutors, none of whom could make anything of him. Many testified that he was incapable of reasoning, addicted to low associates, filthy and profane language, and wanton and capricious cruelty to animals. He would gorge his food without using a knife and fork; eating until he was sick!

His violent temper had led to extraordinary scenes. For instance, at an evening party he had rushed at a gentleman whom he had never seen or spoken to before and, shrieking ‘like a wild Indian, had pinned him to the wall by his whiskers’. He was consistently exceptionally rude and offensive to ladies, and delighted to tear their clothes and make grimaces at them. He could not follow out any train of thought, and acted from one minute to another without reference to previous actions, becoming the laughing-stock of servants. He would also throw money away in the streets, and laugh when saner people scrambled for it. He would fondle a horse one moment and thrash it unmercifully the next. These actions, said Counsel, could not be those of a person enjoying reasonable use of his faculties, but there was worse to come.

It was only with apparent reluctance that General Windham was obliged to publicise these painful affairs of his unhappy nephew ……. there was no other course:

“for his nephew’s vile associates had persuaded him that all the efforts being made to prevent his moral, physical, and financial ruin were only part of a scheme by his uncle to deprive him of his liberty and property”.

But it was explained further in a statement that this was not the case because, whichever way the inquiry went – or whatever happened to his nephew, General Windham would not be the heir.

Witnesses were then called who bore out the opening statement, and added a great deal more. Some told how Windham would at times pretend to be a fireman, and, dressing in character, go about in a devastating manner with an axe and chop down doors and smash windows. At other times he would act the part of a railway guard. With uniform made for the character, he would frequent railway platforms, blow a whistle, and wave a flag. Once, performing these pranks, he nearly caused a railway disaster. At other times he would make off with passengers’ luggage. Altogether, from the family’s point of view and that of the public, William Frederick Windham should have been put under restraint. But it seems that the real compelling reason for bringing legal action was the connection young Windham had recently formed with a woman whom he had picked up in London, during Ascot week.

Anne Agnes Willoughby in riding habit, 1860s.

Agnes Willoughby, alias Rogers, in the words of Counsel:

“was not the chastest of the chaste; her favours in love-affairs were not few; she was known to the police.”

On 30 August 1861, having come of age on the 9th, he married her and settled £800 a year on her, to be increased in 1869 to £1,500. She had been, up to that time, living with a man named Roberts – after the marriage the three lived together!

A 19th Century image of the English aristocrat, William Frederick Windham, during what became known as the Windham Trial of 1861. He was heir to the Felbrigg Estate.

The action was defended by Windham and his associates, who, in the event of his being declared a lunatic, would have lost “the rich harvest of plunder they were reaping.” A pitiful feature of the case, and one tending to prejudice the public against the petitioners, was that Windham’s mother, naturally unwilling to see her son branded as a madman, gave evidence in favour of him. Then, of the more than 150 witnesses called during the progress of the case, a number declared they had never noticed any peculiarity about young Windham, apart from:

“perhaps he was exceedingly high-spirited. He always behaved like a gentleman.”

It did not take the special jury of twenty-four “good men and true” very long to deliberate upon the concluding speeches of counsel. In half an hour they returned, with the astonishing verdict:

“That Mr. Windham is of sound mind and capable of taking care of himself and his affairs.”

This announcement was received with cheers!

Felbrigg (David Ross)
St Margaret’s Church, in the grounds of Felbrigg Hall, Norfolk. David Ross.

On 2 February 1866 the Norfolk Chronicle published the following:

“Mr. F. W. Windham, who for five or six years had enjoyed unenviable notoriety, died suddenly at the Norfolk Hotel, Norwich.  He had been unwell for several days, and was seen by his medical attendant, Mr. F. C. Bailey, on 31 January.  Mr. Windham became better on 1 February, and still further improvement was manifested on the following day; but later in the same day his symptoms were completely altered, and became so alarming that Mr. Bailey called in Dr. Bateman and Dr. Eade.  Every effort was made to restore animation, but without avail; this victim of an ill-spent life gradually sank, and in a few hours expired, in the presence of the medical men and of some of the servants of the hotel.  Death was due to the obstruction of the circulation by a clot of blood in the pulmonary artery.  On the 7 February the body was removed to Tucker’s Hotel, Cromer, and the interment took place on the 8th, in the family vault at Felbrigg.

Mr. Windham had completely dissipated the residue of the extensive property which he inherited, after payment of the law expenses contingent on the great suit, Windham v. Windham (q.v. November 22 1861), and became dependent for a livelihood on the little income he made as driver of the Cromer coach.  His uncle, General Windham, had made arrangements by which he was supplied with the means of living respectably.  He had rooms at the Norfolk Hotel, but generally spent his time in one or other of the low public-houses in the city.  The effect of his death was to deprive Mrs. Windham of the annuity granted on Mr. Windham’s life, and of any interest whatever in the Hanworth estate.


Sources include: The Newmarket, Bury, Thetford, and Cromer Road, by Charles G. Harper-A Project Gutenberg eBook

Two Men into Tobacco, Cigars and Snuff!

By Haydn Brown.

The Norwich firm of James Newbegin & Son, tobacco and cigar manufacturers, was well established in the city when the owner’s son, George James Newbegin, was born in 1845 – and a certain Daniel Adcock joined the company two years later. These two men were destined to work together before George, the son of the owner, retired and Daniel, who previously had looked after the manufacturing side of the business, secured joint ownership of the business, renaming it Adcock & Denham. The two men were quite different in character and best treated separately for the purposes of biography.


George Newbegin was educated in the Priory School, or Norwich Grammar School. he grew up to be a quiet and somewhat reserved in manner; someone who indulged in walking and solving chess problems. He also had inherited a love for all things scientific from his father, which was satisfied when he was to specialise in astronomy. On the way to indulging in the more serious aspects of life and work, he also had sporting instincts which were to lead him into yachting.

Immediately after schooling, George became apprenticed to a firm of booksellers and stationers in Tunbridge Wells. From there he later returned to Norwich to assist his father, James, in his tobacco business, and to which he succeeded in 1871 at the age of 26 years. His love of things scientific and particularly astronomy led him, in 1875 to erect his first 5-inch equatorial telescope in the quadrangle of his factory in Norwich. The difficulties he had in doing this was because the factory quadrangle was not only 35 feet square but was surrounded by walls that were 30 feet high, and admitted only a very limited horizon. Not to be put off, however, he built his telescope on a high pillar and so overcame, to some extent, the difficulties of the situation. At the same time, it appears not to have been documented just how easy, or difficult, it was for him to look through the lens – but apparently, he did – and was happy!

We know nothing more about George, particularly his handling of his tobacco business, only that by 1882, eleven years after taking over the business from his father, he found himself in a position where he was able to retire. This opportunity seems to have arisen when he agreed to sell his business to Daniel Adcock, employee, and his partner, a Mr S Denham – see below. As for George, he moved to a private dwelling named the Town House on the Yarmouth Road in Thorpe St Andrew – today, its address is 18-22 Yarmouth Road and is the Town House Hotel. There he re-erected his telescope in more spacious surroundings at the rear of the house, a somewhat grand house that overlooked the Old Reach of the River Yare; there the railway and “New Cut” had created Thorpe Island with Jenner’s basin visible on the opposite bank.

Although not part of this story, it may be of interest to some readers that for many years during the turn of the 18th century and into the early years of the 19th, George’s house was the home of Edmund Cotman, a silk merchant. More importantly, however, is that Edmund was the father of John Sell Cotman, the famous artist who, amongst many other paintings, produce “View from my Father’s House”, probably from the very spot where George had his telescope many years later. That painting is now housed in the Norwich Castle Museum.

The Town House was subsequently inhabited by John Sell’s (left images above) two sons –  Miles Edmunds (centre image above) and John Joseph (right image above). Our subject, George Newbegin was to follow.

In 1888, the same year when George Newbegin was elected a Fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society, he added considerably to his equipment at Thorpe and went on, over the next 16 years to study the sun and contribute to the knowledge of luminary by spectroscopic observations, and also by photography of sunspots. For many years his observatories at Thorpe were opened to the public every Easter Monday, and many people owed their first acquaintance with the heavens to George’s public spirit. On one occasion 241 persons came to his door.

But it was in the autumn of 1904 when George Newbegin left Norwich for Sutton in Surrey; there he re-erected his then 9-inch telescope and mounted the photographic lens alongside, and for the remaining years of his life spent his entire time observing and publishing his results annually in the Royal Astronomical Society’s Journal. He died on 4 April 1919.

As for Daniel Adcock, his life took quite a different path before arriving at James Newbegin & Son in Norwich in 1847. He was born in 1805 and when barely two years old his parents sailed for a new life in America. However, their journey was interrupted somewhat when the family, and others, were taken prisoner by Spaniards and taken to Spain. They did, however, eventually arrived in New York, where his father became involved with the manufacture of cigars – and here lies the clue to what followed as far as Daniel was concerned. The family were to return to settle in London before Daniel, at least, ventured back to Norwich in 1847. It was at this point when he became employed by James Newbegin & Son, tobacco and cigar manufacturers; he responsible for looking after the manufacturing side of the business; a business that was spread about the city in such locations as Queen Street, Bridewell Alley and the Market Place.

Mr S Denham, partner of Daniel Adcock. Photo: Credit Archant

At some point thereafter, Daniel Adcock teamed up with a Mr S. Denham and, in 1882 it seems, took over the Newbegin business, changing its name to Adcock & Denham – the moment when George Newbegin had decided to retire. When that happened, there was a clear opportunity for the new owners to expand the business and the partners did so by opening a larger factory and stores, something that was probably just what the old business needed; it grew into a thriving business, employing many more employees.

Making tobacco products at Adcocks & Denham, Norwich over a century ago. Photo:Credit: Archant

Adcock & Denham continued to produce large quantities of cigarettes, cigars, tobacco and snuff at a time when these products were popular and in high demand. It was said that around 40 staff of men and women were engaged solely on producing the company’s ‘Sure Shot’ cigar; apparently, they made an average of 2 million every year which were shipped around the world.

Same department making tobacco products. Photo: Credit Archant.

The business flourished further when Daniel’s son, Ernest, took over. The company moving to new and bigger premises in Pottergate Street, and a central depot was opened on Exchange Street and there were also shops in the Back of the Inns and even at King’s Lynn. The raw material necessary to make the firm’s products arriving regularly in Norwich from across the world in hogsheads, tierces or bales; the supplying countries included America, Cuba, Borneo, Java, Turkey, Sumatra, China and Japan.

Sure Shot cigars, plus other tobacco products, on cart at the ‘Bess of Bedlam’ public house stables in Oak Street, Norwich. Photo 1895: Credit Archant.

But such was the type of business that it regularly attracted the attention of an Excise Officer who would arrive at the factory every day to:

‘Take care that the proper contribution is paid to the State for the privilege of manufacturing tobaccos.’

Daniel Adcock who arrived in Norwich  in 1847 and eventually took over the old firm of James Newbegin & Son, tobacco and cigar manufacturers. Photo: Credit Archant.

Alongside production and inspection of goods, it was also clear that Adcock & Denham was not only well run, but also had the well-being of its employees at heart. One report in 1904 stated:

‘Cigarette making is proceeding at full swing. Nimble hands, and the turn-out at the time of our visit appears to be sufficient to supply a very large army of smokers.’ They added: ‘The rooms are bright, airy and warm throughout, and the workers are cheerful, clean and tidy in appearance and evidently suffer no inconvenience or injury to health from the trade in which they are engaged.’

Ernest Adcock, son of Daniel, who died in 1936 aged 81 – said to have been one of the first people in Norwich to own a motor car. Photo: Credit Archant.

In 1936, the then head of the family firm, Ernest Daniel Adcock, died at his home at Glenhurst, in Eaton; he was aged 81 years. An artist, he showed his work at the Woodpecker Club, he had been one of the original members of Eaton Golf Club and among the first people in Norwich to own a motor car. His first was a Wolseley in 1903 – before the days of compulsory number plates.


Men Who Have Made Norwich by Edward & Wilfred Burgess, 1903/4.

NOTICE: ‘Norfolk Tales, Myths & More!’ is a ‘non-commercial’ Site seeking only to be informative and educational on topics broadly related to the history and heritage of the County of Norfolk in the U.K.
Further Note:
If you are the originator/copyright holder of any photo or content contained in this blog and would prefer it be excluded or amended, please contact us via our ‘Contact Us’ page to flag it for correction.
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A Sea Captain Who Agreed to Build Ships

By Haydn Brown.

His name was Allison Davie and it was said that he was born on 4 May 1796; presumably at Great Yarmouth because, as one biography stated, he was “baptised privately the next day at Great Yarmouth, England”. Confusingly however, another source stated that he was born in Scotland! Solely on the basis that it would not have been possible for a barely one-day old baby to be carried from 18th century Scotland to Norfolk in one day, this blog will continue with the following:

Allison Davie (Portrait_Wikimedia Commons)
Former Captain Allison Davie. Image: Wikimedia Commons.

Allison Davie was the son of a Captain Allison Davie who, by the way, was buried at Gorleston, near Great Yarmouth in 1818; his mother was Elizabeth Cock. Apparently, young Allison Davie came from an old English family line that can be traced back to 1603 when an ancestor, William Davie lived in Stanfield, in Norfolk. Allison was to be the eldest of eight children, four boys and four girls.

It was during the Napoleonic Wars (18 May 1803 to 20 November 1815 – some 12 years, 5 months and 4 weeks) and while still young, Davie entered the service of the East India Company and took part in transporting British troops in the Mediterranean before transferring to the Atlantic route; he had gradually risen in rank. It was whilst he was on a trip to Quebec as a Captain, in early 1825, when he met Elizabeth Johnson Taylor; she was the only daughter of George Taylor, a shipbuilder, and Elizabeth his wife.

Daughter Elizabeth had been born at North Shields, England in 1803 and had left her native land aboard the clipper, Three Brothers – “The largest sailing ship in the world” – with her parents on 27 May 1811, reaching Quebec on 9 August that year. There, her father had immediately opened a shipyard on the southwest shore of Île d’Orléans at a place known as St Patrick’s Hole. Just over twelve months later, in December 1812, the war with the United States caused George Taylor to suspend his activities at St Patrick’s Hole and go with other sailors and carpenters to build ships in Upper Canada. On returning to Île d’Orléans after hostilities had ended, he resumed his original business operations.

1200px-Clipper_shipAllison Davie (Three_Brothers_Wikipedia)

Taylor’s yard prospered, and was still doing so in 1825 when Allison Davie from Norfolk, England, by then a 300-pound “giant” of a man and with an excellent reputation as a sea captain, landed at Quebec. He immediately fell in love with young Elizabeth Taylor – how and when exactly we do not know but events with this relationship flowered at pace. Her father, George, very soon agreed to his daughter’s marriage with Davie – but on two conditions: (1) that he abandon sailing and settle down as heir to the Taylor business and, (2) that he would give his future children the Taylor name. Davie agreed, and the marriage was performed by the Reverend James Harkness on 16 April 1825; this is according to the records of St Andrew’s Presbyterian Church at Quebec – which made the formalisation of the couple’s marriage swift indeed!

Allison Davie (Dalhousie_Library and Archives Canada)
The Governor of Quebec, Lord Dalhousie Ramsay. Image: Library & Archives Canada.

Two years later, on 14 May 1827, the Taylor enterprise, in which Davie was now an established partner, launched the King Fisher, a 221-ton, 16-gun, brigantine which was built for the Colonial Government. This launching turned out to be a major event with the Governor, Lord Dalhousie Ramsay and many other notable guests in attendance. It was Dalhousie himself who presented George Taylor with a silver cup, engraved with the Governor’s Coat of Arms surmounted by a unicorn, the ship’s figurehead which had been produced by the silversmith Laurent Amiot, a man conscious of his standing as a creative artist. As for the boatyard, it may appear strange that shortly after this even, it was shut down.

Allison Davie (Brigatine_Royal Museums Greenwich)
An example of an early 19th century Brigantine, similar to the ‘Kingfisher’ launched by the Taylor-Davie enterprise in 1827.

On 2 December 1829 Davie bought a waterfront property at the foot of the cliff at Pointe-Lévy on the south shore of the St Lawrence with a view to setting up his enterprise there. He purchased another site on 28 December the following year. On these lots he put up the facilities needed for repairing ships. But, as the Quebec Gazette reported on 5 March 1832, during the violent spring break-up “the large wharf” of his shipyard, “after being thrown over by the ice, was carried down the river.” At the same time, the shipbuilding market was weak but, undaunted by both the disaster and the market situation, Davie re- started from scratch, with such energy that by the autumn he had moved the family across the St Lawrence River to Pointe-Lévy where he had also bought a beach property and had set up his own ship repair yard, equipped with a “Patent Slip” or marine railway. Since there was only one other dry-docking facility in the port of Quebec at the time, the Canada Floating Dock at Cape Cove, Davie’s business prospered further.

Of all the qualities that contemporaries recognised in Davie, ingenuity was the one most stressed. For example, according to the Quebec Gazette of 29 Oct. 1832, he was the first person in the Canadas to employ a system invented in England that allowed ships to be repaired without being put into dry dock. For this purpose, he had an inclined marine railway built. The vessels, taken at high water, were hauled out of the river on a cradle which moved on iron rollers and drawn up by an iron chain. “We believe this is the first establishment of the kind formed in British America,” the newspaper added.

The ingenious Captain Davie was not destined, however, to live long after this achievement. Joseph-Edmond Roy, editor, notary, politician and historian, recounts:

“One evening in the month of June 1836, as he was moving in a rowboat past a ship anchored in mid-stream, the captain of the ship threw him a package, which fell into the sea instead of into the rowboat. In leaning overboard to catch the package, Davie fell in himself. He went under and did not come up.”

On 20 June the Le Canadien reported that Davie’s body, with:

“his gold watch, some money, and the keys he had on him, had been found at Saint-Pierre, Île d’Orléans, the preceding afternoon…. a few days after the accident in the roads.”

Twelve days after the accident, Allison Davie was buried at Quebec.

Allison Davie (Joseph Roy)
Joseph-Edmond Roy. Image: Bibliothèque et Archives Nationales du Québec

Elizabeth Davie, widowed at age 33 with seven children and pregnant with an eighth, took charge of the business in order to safeguard the family’s inheritance. The first woman to head a shipbuilding firm in Canada, she ran the yard and soon made a reputation for herself as a talented builder with a keen eye for which trees to cut down. On occasion she sought help from her father, who had retired but lived until 1861.

Around 1850 Elizabeth handed over the running of the company to her eldest son, George Taylor Davie, who had been apprenticed in John Munn’s shipyards in the faubourg Saint-Roch at Quebec. It was clear that training under Munn was a privilege, and several of his apprentices made their mark, George Taylor Davie was amongst them; his inherited business becoming the sole 19th century shipbuilder to survive to the present day.

Allison Davie’s son, George Taylor Davie, gradually bought up his sibling’s shares, with the result that on 28 May 1885 all of his father’s heirs declared him sole owner of the family business. His mother, Elizabeth Davie had died in 1860, at the age of 57 years. Thanks to George’s business sense and professional skill, the operation prospered and grew through the purchase of a site at Saint-Joseph (Lévis), where he founded the Davie Shipbuilding and Repairing Company Limited. Despite his short and modest career Allison Davie, a ship’s captain from Norfolk, England, had laid the foundation of an enterprise which, through his successors and name changes, won an enviable place in the shipbuilding and ship repairfield. It finally closed in 1989.

Allison Davie (Memorial Stone)
An existing plaque at 100 Quai Saint-André, Québec.
“During the Napoleonic Wars, rapidly growing British markets for Canadian timber created a demand for vessels to transport it, stimulating construction at Québec, the major timber port. At the peak of the trade about mid-century (1850) over 25 shipyards at the Port of Québec employed about 5,000 men and launched some 50 ocean-going wooden ships a year. After carrying a cargo of timber to Great Britain, most of these ships were sold to become a significant part of the British merchant navy on all the oceans of the world.”


Biography – DAVIE, ALLISON – Volume VII (1836-1850) – Dictionary of Canadian Biography (biographi.ca)
Biography – DAVIE, GEORGE TAYLOR – Volume XIII (1901-1910) – Dictionary of Canadian Biography (biographi.ca)
Biography – ROY, JOSEPH-EDMOND – Volume XIV (1911-1920) – Dictionary of Canadian Biography (biographi.ca)

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