The Actress With ‘Lustre and Effect’!

We are in the centre of Norwich, in that part of St Peter Mancroft’s churchyard that sits on the north side the Church. This half the whole churchyard, which extends on both sides of the church, is the larger and does not seem to suffer the unfavourable associations that the northern side of church graveyards usually have to put up with. It is the side which is the nearest to the market place and divided by a path which allows visitors to enter the church through the northern side door.

sophia ann goddard (st peter mancroft)1
St Peter Mancroft Church, Norwich, Norfolk. The tomb on which the following inscription appears is to the left of the church, behind the railings and under the trees. Photo: Haydn Brown 2019.

Here is an ‘altar’ styled tomb – in fact the only tomb in the whole of the Church’s churchyard still standing upright and proud; most other headstones have long been laid flat at ground level. This particular tomb is a finely carved family sort of tomb, one of those big box-shaped ones now, in the present-day, being slowly destroyed by moss and the constant weathering from the trees that overhang it. At one end, facing full on to the path that takes visitors into the church, is an inscription which refers to the main family member, that of John Harrison Yallop. At the other end of the tomb, facing the Forum, is an oval cartouche, within which is the following inscription:

This Stone
is dedicated to the
Talents and Virtues of
Sophia Ann Goddard
who died
15th March 1801 aged 25
The Former shone with superior
Lustre and Effect
in the great School of Morals,
THE THEATRE,
while the Latter
inform’d the private Circle of Life
with Sentiment, Taste, and Manners
that still live in the memory
Of Friendship and
Affection.

(Photos above: Haydn Brown 2019.)

This inscription is intriguing, it suggests that there is a real story hereabouts; maybe there are several stories, all interlinked one would assume. In the absence of any facts to the contrary, it must be assumed that Miss Goddard’s remains found their way into this Yallop family tomb shortly after her funeral in 1801; John Yallop followed thirty-four years later when it might have been previously arranged that he would rejoin Sophia there. As to answering the question as to why she, a Goddard, would join these family members; well, at the time of her death she had been betrothed to John Harrison Yallop.

sophia ann goddard (mary yallop)
Mrs Nathaniel Bolingbroke (nee Mary Yallop) (1760-1833) by Joseph Clover. Norfolk Museums Service; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/mrs-nathaniel-bolingbroke-nee-mary-yallop-17601833-1174

One thing needs to be agreed between writers on the subject of whether this is a Yallop or Bolingbroke tomb! This article favours it being a Yallop family tomb, despite references to the Bolingbroke name. Mary Yallop, John’s sister married Nathaniel Bolingbroke and both are there – John does speak of ‘his brother-in-law Nathaniel Bolingbroke’ at some later date. The other references to the Bolingbroke name are two older members – so, the matter is debateable! The other point is, that with the exception of John Yallop, nowhere does it say that the others are ‘buried’ in the tomb; the inscriptions are headed simply ‘In Memory’; the exception to this heading is, of course, the notable inscription dedicated to the young actress with whom John Harrison Yallop fell in love.

Strange therefore that there is no reference on the tomb to John Yallop’s wife of some fourteen years, Mary Ann Yallop (nee’ Watts) who died in 1833 – two years before her husband. Not so strange when we discover that, their marriage, in 1819, became an empty relationship. In 1820 John completed building his fine house at Eaton Grange but he did not live much there. More oddly still, his wife did not live there either. In the words of R.H. Mottram, in his book The Speaking Likeness:

“He bought a neighbouring property and installed her in it, either from some deep emptiness that she, good if ordinary woman as she must have been – or why did he marry her? – could never fill. She died while he was in his sixties, so that her separate establishment cannot have been a mere provision made for her widowhood. He himself migrated to Brighton where he died in June 1835……”

From this, we could reach the understandable assumption that the information detailed on her husband’s grave, in St Peter Mancroft’s churchyard, shows that John Harrison Yallop never lost the love he had for Sophia Ann Goddard. Also, it would seem to indicate that he preferred to be accompanied in the afterlife with those he felt the most closest to on earth. Sophia Ann Goddard was the strongest contender for this distinction since the inscription dedicated to her is an affectionate reminder of his love for this actress – the wording would clearly suggest so!

sophia ann goddard 1776-1801(photo. john seymour)
Sophia Ann Goddard (1776-1801) by John Thirtle. Photo: John Seymour

Sophia Ann Goddard was born in 1776, her parents were Florimond and Sophia Goddard, of whom nothing more is known. It may not be safe to suggest that Miss Goddard was educated and brought up in south eastern area of England but she did make her first stage appearance at Margate, Kent in July 1797 at twenty-one years of age. Within a month of her debut, the Monthly Mirror reported from Margate that:

“A Miss Goddard, about whom the papers have been very busy, has played several characters with some promise; but her friends have certainly over-rated here talents”

sophia ann goddard (theatre royal_margate 1787)
The Theatre Royal, Margate which opened in 1787. This was where Sophia Ann Goddard made her stage debute. Photo: (c) Ian Gardy? – see photograph.

By the 10th November 1797 it had been announced from Margate that Miss Goddard had made her first appearance in London as Laetitia Hardy in Mrs Centlivre’s ‘The Belle’s Stratagem’ at Dury Lane Theatre, a role which she was to repeat with much success in Norwich in a later year. London was enthusiastic, the critics less so according to the Monthly Mirror of November of that year, declaring:

“This young lady has fallen sacrifice to the art of puffing. She has been placed at the head of the school before she has imbibed the rudiments of knowledge………….[her talents were] “not of a primary nature”

sophia ann goddard (drury lane)

Evidently, the Dury Lane Theatre management agreed with the newspaper, for her next performance of Letitia Hardy, on the 14th November 1797, was her last appearance in a London theatre. Undaunted, according to a much later provincial newspaper, Sophia Ann returned to Margate to continue her desire for success with determination. She appeared to be nothing, if not, a trier and was soon making progress – all be it the hard way:

“Puppy teeth were cut, experience gained while her talents pointed for the first tune, with certainty, at a capability that extended far beyond mere good looks and a pleasing personality”.

Within the year, the Monthly Mirror itself was forced to admit that “Miss Goddard, about whom the papers have been very busy, played several characters with promise”. By December 1798 she had chosen Norwich where she first secured lodgings with a Mrs Curtis of St Gregory’s parish; the same lodgings which had been used by another famous actress, Mrs Sarah Siddons (nee’ Kemble) in 1788. Sophia Ann then joined the ‘stock company’ of actors and actresses at the Theatre Royal; and it was here where she soon became a popular and favourite actress, particulary amongst the County’s gentry. It was also said at the time that she was ‘a particularly graceful dancer’ as well. But it was for her acting that Miss Goddard received most admiration. Her acting of Portia in ‘The Merchant of Venice‘ was particularly well received, whilst it was reported of her performance in Jane Shore by the Norwich Mercury on 12th January, 1799:

“Miss Goddard to greater advantage that we ever remember to have seen her. The last scene was given to such effect that she loses nothing by comparison with Mrs Siddons, whom we recollect in the same character.”

sophia ann goddard (theatre royal)3

For the next sixteen months, or so, life appeared to be full for Sophia Ann. She the leading feminine ‘box-office draw’ and playing all the stock leads of the day, often opposite John Brunton, the celebrated actor-manager who, incidently, was a Norwich born man who was to create a family acting dynasty of his own. Sophia Ann also combined her career at the Norwich Theatre Royal with other theatres included on the East Anglia Circuit; all this along with socialising with her many friends and admirers, one of whom was the 38 year-old John Harrison Yallop.

sophia ann goddard (the walk)
In the Georgian era these were some of the shops that were located from the corner of London Street (then Cockey Lane) along Gentlemans’s Walk. John Harrison Yallop was in partnership in the firm of Dunham & Yallop, goldsmiths which was placed to the right of this picture, on the the corner of Davey Place.

It could well be assumed, from the inscription that ultimately appeared on John Yallop’s grave, that he became besotted with Miss Goddard. One can imagine him rushing round to the stage door after one particular and early performance by Sophia Ann, in an attempt to persuade the person in charge of the Stage Door to allow him admission so that he could ‘introduce’ himself. The ploy must have worked because the two were soon engaged with plans to marry. Unfortunately, time would reveal all too soon that Miss Goddard was not only ill, but her health was deteriorating fast. She died of consumption on the 15th March 1801 at the age of only 25 years. This brought an abrupt end to the couple’s relationship and she would miss out on a marriage to someone who was an ‘up and  coming’ man of distinction in Norwich; someone who would become rich and, in some ways, a powerful influence in local and national politics.

sophia ann goddard (yallop)3
Sir John Harrison Yallop (1763–1835), Kt Joseph Clover (1779–1853)
Norfolk Museums Service

Unlike Miss Goddard, John Harrison Yallop had been born in the City of Norwich, the son of William Yallop who was a ‘Glover’. It is unclear, whether it was before or after Miss Goddard’s death, when John Yallop became a partner in the firm of Dunham & Yallop, goldsmiths which was situated on the corner of Davey Place and The Walk. Sir John had a house in Willow Lane, just off St Giles and a short walk from the shop opposite the market place where the business traded in jewellery, precious metals and stones. Having been appointed an agent for the Government Lottery of that day, the shop also sold its tickets to subscribers. On one occasion, so the story goes, John Yallop had two tickets left, one he returned, the other he bought – and won! With the proceeds, which was considerable, he built himself the fine country house, Eaton Grange, on the Newmaket Road in 1820 – the same house mentioned above and where he seldom lived. It is now a Girl’s High School.

sophia ann goddard (yallop home 1820)
95 Eaton Grove, Newmarket Rd, Norwich; built in 1820 for Sir John Harrison Yallop. Photo: 1989 George Plunkett.

John Yallop and his partner were to branch out into selling tea, coffee and cocoa and advertised these and every other commodity which they held on their premises – they called them ‘comestibles’. From their well positioned shop, on the Gentleman’s Walk, they formed a good connection with the public that purchased for the household. It was also on the ‘Walk’ where the gentlemen would rather pass up and down on the shop side so as to avoid the clamour and soiled pavements of the market stalls. JohnYallop also became an important money lender in Norwich; one of his debtors included his brother-in-law Nathaniel Bolingbroke, the very one who married Mary, his sister. It is interesting to note that when debtors were imprisoned at the suit of a money lender, that creditor was responsible for paying for the upkeep of the debtor. Records show that John Yallop paid for the upkeep of an unnamed imprisoned debtor. One wonders who that was?

Four years after Miss Goddard’s death, John Yallop was elected to the position of Sheriff of Norwich in 1805 and again in 1809, so he was on his way up both socially and professionally and politically. Then in 1815 he attained the public office of Mayor; it was also around this time that he met a Mary Ann Watts and married her in 1819 before he was again elected as Mayor in 1831. While he was Mayor, back in 1815, he travelled to London with his ‘brother-in-law Nathaniel Bolingbroke’ to present the City’s petition in favour of Parliamentary Reform to King William IV; this resulted in John Yallop being awarded a Knighthood. At the time it was said to have been quite an event which resulted in an amusing ditty being written which began:

“To the King, the Blues wished to present an address
By the Mayor – and their sense of reform to express”

The ditty goes on to describe how the Mayor and “Old Natty” coached to London, each hoping for a knighthood – but only one received it!

sophia ann goddard (yallop)1
An inscription on John Harrison’s memorial which is on the inside northern wall of St Peter Mancroft Church, Norwich.

sophia ann goddard (yallop)2

As for Sophia Ann Goddard, she died on the 15th March 1801 and was buried on 20th in the churchyard of St Peter Mancroft Church, which was very close to the theatre. in Norwich. The burial register identified her as a single woman from the Parish of St Stephens. Her Obituary in the Gentleman’s Magazine of March 1801 reported that:

“15th March: Died in St Stephen’s Parish, Norwich, Miss Sophia Ann Goddard, who came forward with so much success at Dury Lane Theatre a few years ago. This lady obtained a considerable reputation on the Norwich stage, and was so much improved in theatrical merit that her talents would doubless have soon made their way to a secure establishment on the London boards. Her figure was elegant, her understanding excellent, her manners were amiable and her character in all respects was highly meritorious. She was in the prime of life, and promised more than any other performer now on the stage to suceed to that line of character which was so admirably sustained by the present Countess of Derby [Elizabeth Farren]“. “

The officiating Vicar of Miss Goddard’s funeral was the Reverend Peele who, pronounced the last sad but dignified sentences of her burial service before the slow, muted procession emerged on its short journey to the chosen plot on the northern edge of the church where she would be put to rest. There doesn’t appear to have been any definite mention of John Harrison Yallop being present at the time, but surely, as the main mourner it would have been inconceivable that he would be absent. It could also be imagined that he would have walked in procession alongside Mr Hindes, the theatre manager now that John Brunton was no longer in charge. They would have been joined by the actors of the day, such as Mr and Mrs Chestnut, Mrs Rivett, Mr George Bennett and his wife Harriet Morland, the daughter of an ancient family in Westmorland (parents: Jacob Morland of Killington, Dorothy Brisco of Kendal, and sister, Lady Shackerley of Somerford Hall). Both were actors in the Norwich Company of Comedians. Then there may have been Mr Lindoe.

sophia ann goddard 1776-1801(photo. john seymour)
A final reminder of Sophia Ann Goddard, Actress (1776-1801) and said to be painted by John Thirtle. Photo: John Seymour

FOOTNOTE: The small portrait of Miss Sophia Ann Goddard, said to be by John Thirtle, was reproduced in a St Peter Mancroft publication in the 1950’s, namely the St Peter Mancroft Celebratory Programme for 1455 to 1955. The present location of that portrait, which perhaps at one time belonged John Harrison Yallop, and the Bolingbroke family, is unknown.

The final words here are left to R H Mottram, a great nephew of John Harrison Yallop. He wrote in his book ‘The Speaking Likeness’:

“But there is something else which has made me want to tell this true story, with such filling-in of the gaps that local history does not scruple to leave in a local record. The story of John Harrison Yallop and his Sophia might well be dismissed as an ordinary, pretty tragedy making its limited appeal, too usual in its features to be noteworthy. But, it is not like that at all, and Sophia’s very pathetic demise happens to make all the difference”.

What was it that took place, once the brief [burial] ceremony just outside the porch of the Church of St Peter Mancroft was concluded? John Harrison Yallop turned away, sorrowful enough, heartbroken one may well believe, when one gazes at the miniature of a beautiful young woman, her appearance enhanced by the training in presentation she had received. Some friend, or member of the family that surrounded him, one hopes took his arm and led him home”.

When next you are near St Peter Mancroft in Norwich, go to that tomb on the northern side of the church. Pause, look and imagine as to what really transpired during the all too brief relationship between a provincial businessman come politician and a young, beautiful actress.

THE END

Sources:
St Peter Mancroft Celebratory Programme 1455-1955 which includes an article on Sophia Ann Goddard from the Eastern Daily Press and reproduced “by kind permission of the Editor and the Author” – supplied by Mrs Barbara Miller of St Peter Mancroft.
A Biographical Dictionary of Actors, Actresses, Musicians, Dancers, Managers & Other Stage Personnel in London 1660-1800, Volume 6: Garrick to Gyngell,
https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=gNMcx7IQvSUC&pg=PA245&lpg=PA245&dq=Florimond+and+Sophia+Goddard&source=bl&ots=eJMYorU7cQ&sig=xJ3EJXmTidJ6Bkyh8GSo5n46zGg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjUtYW9odffAhUoURUIHbybBtAQ6AEwC3oECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=Florimond%20and%20Sophia%20Goddard&f=false
http://www.norwich-heritage.co.uk/monuments/John%20Harrison%20Yallop/John%20Yallop.shtm
https://billiongraves.com/grave/John-Harrison-Yallop/2056815
https://secure.theatreroyalnorwich.co.uk/Online/default.asp?doWork::WScontent::loadArticle=Load&BOparam::WScontent::loadArticle::article_id=F1DCA31C-5488-47B3-9480-99AF0226DD18
Mottram, R.H., The Speaking Likeness, Hutchinson & Co Ltd, 1967.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/5F7qT1K38vHKSnYjTLr7kjn/sarah-siddons-visits-the-norwich-theatre-royal
Photo: Feature Heading: John Sell Cotman’s evocative painting of Norwich Market-place (c.1809) © Tate Gallery no 5636.
George Plunkett photograph by kind permission of Jonathan Plunkett.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE2

Christmas: A Modern View!

Today’s Christmas traditions may seem to have been with us for ever, but they are, in fact, cobbled together from numerous centuries and countries. Some rituals have survived for millennia, but others, such as the instructions for peacock served in its plumage, dating from 1430, have fallen from vogue. – i.e:

‘Take a peacock, break its neck and cut its throat,” the recipe begins. Then “flay him”, being careful to “keep the skin and feathers whole together”, the better to reclothe the peacock’s flesh once cooked. For maximum effect, you should gild the beak.

Champagne-Christmas-Wreath

The wreath on your front door is a remnant of the ancient practice of bringing evergreen foliage into the home, symbolising everlasting life and renewal at the darkest time of the year. The early Christians cleverly re-appropriated the existing Pagan mid-winter festival, deciding that it should instead celebrate Jesus’s birthday, and making it the occasion for a special “mass for Christ” as well as a party.

Medieval Christmas lasted for 12 days, and New Year’s Day and Twelfth Night were just as important as December 25. However, Christmas Day was the first day of feasting, made doubly enjoyable because Christmas Eve was a fast. Masques and entertainments whiled away the holiday in grand households. Edward III even staged a Christmas tournament in 1344, in which “the fierce hacklings of men and horses, gallantly armed, were a delightful terror to the female beholders”.

Christmas Dinner2

A Christmas banquet for Henry V included dates, carp, eels roasted with lamprey, and a leach (boiled milk jelly, a bit like Turkish delight). This 15th-century feast concluded with “subtleties”, edible sugar sculptures depicting figures such as St Katherine, or a tiger. Medieval bellies were not used to refined sugar, a rare and expensive food, so smashing up and eating a subtlety must have provided a sugar rush that felt rather like being drunk.

The 12-day holiday sometimes saw the normal social hierarchy reversed, not unlike the Roman feast of Saturnalia, where the masters waited on the slaves. The “Lord of Misrule”, a lowly servant, might be crowned master of ceremonies and japes. The tradition survives today in our wearing of the paper crowns, with which the Lord of Misrule was identified.

Then, what do you think happened in the 16th century; – along came the Puritans to spoil the fun. These extreme Protestants “protested” against the ossified, superstitious rituals of the Catholic Church. To the Puritan mind, these included the degenerate celebrations at Christmas.

An early example of Father Christmas in literature appears in Ben Jonson’s play of 1616, Christmas, His Masque, which was really a diatribe against the killjoys. In comes a bearded old man, old because he personifies the ancient feast of Christmas. “Ha!” Father Christmas says, “would you have kept me out?” Introducing his sons and daughters, Carol, Misrule, Gambol, Minced-Pie and Baby-Cake, they all celebrate “a right Christmas, as of old it was”. Father Christmas comes down the chimney because this, rather than the door, is the traditional entrance to the house for Pagan trespassers such as witches or evil spirits.

Christmas (Santa)

Also – nowadays, clever and compassionate adults never say silly things like “Santa doesn’t exist” because (a) they know deep down that he does – sort of , (b) they know that life would be just too prosaic if he didn’t, and (c) they know that kids know that adults would say that because they can’t be bothered to leave a glass of whisky and a mince pie out for him on Christmas Eve. Grown-ups are so….ooo lazy!

However, the Puritans did have the last laugh. Swept to power in the Civil War, their zealot governments of the 1640s and 1650s forced shops to stay open on Christmas Day and punished anyone caught celebrating. In Oxford, in 1647, this led to “a world of skull-breaking”; in 1657, John Evelyn was taken prisoner by soldiers for taking the Holy Sacrament at Christmas. Some people still celebrated in secret and when Oliver Cromwell died and King Charles II was restored to the throne, Christmas returned. But it remained a lower-key, domestic affair throughout the 18th century. “Much harried by the Poor of the Parish who come for Christmas Gifts,” wrote the miserable Reverend William Holland, a real-life Georgian Scrooge. Someone once wrote, “Apparently not the most charming man–but honest in his political and social views, and detailed about his daily life.”

Christmas (Scrooge)

Christmas dinner, served at home, was usually beef, venison or goose with plum pudding. The turkey, although introduced into England in Tudor times, did not catch on as a Christmas essential until the late 19th century. The killing of a deer might induce a generous nobleman to give the offal or “umbles” to his dependants, who would encase them in pastry to make an “umble” or “humble pie”. On the same plate as your meat, you might have enjoyed plum porridge or plum pudding. This boiled mixture of suet, flour and fruit was the origin of Christmas pudding, but palates still relished sweet and savoury mixed together. Samuel Pepys loved “a messe of brave plum-porridge”, and also mentions giving tradesmen the “boxes” containing gifts of money, explaining the name of Boxing Day.

Christmas (Mince Pie)
Willem Claesz Heda, Banquet Piece with Mince Pie, 1635, oil on canvas, 
(c) National Gallery of Art, Washington

Pepys also enjoyed mince pies, and his 17th-century “mincemeat” really did contain meat. Mixed with fruit and alcohol, the shredded flesh of beasts slaughtered in the autumn could thus be preserved in stone jars for the Christmas feast. Ann Blencowe’s 1694 recipe recommended a boiled calf’s tongue, chopped up and mixed with beef suet, “raisins of ye sun”, lemon rind and spices. Other food sounds half-familiar, too: Diana Asty, in 1701, celebrated with the recognisably modern “ham & chicken, & sprouts”, and “out landish sweets” (French bonbons).

Georgian houses were still “decked with laurels, rosemary and other greenery”, and the later 18th century saw the German Christmas tree imported by the Hanoverian royal family. Teutonic trees had been decorated with apples, nuts and paper flowers since the 16th century. While the German-born Prince Albert didn’t import the idea of the tree (as often claimed), he did indeed popularise it, setting up trees for his own children in an attempt to recreate the magical Christmases of his youth.

illustrated-christmas-960
Engraving from the Illustrated London News showing Queen Victoria and Prince Albert around the Christmas tree, 1848, England © British Library Board. P.P.7611.

It was a single but influential engraving, published in the Illustrated London News of 1848, that made the tree central to British Christmas culture. Prince Albert, Queen Victoria and their children are shown gathered around their decorated tree at Windsor Castle. Attended by just one maid, they present a paradigm of a normal, respectable family, and the nation rushed to emulate them. Albert’s trees were furnished with fruits, gilded nuts and gingerbread, but over time, these perishable items were replaced with glass or, eventually, plastic. Crackers, too, evolved from the simple twists of paper that originally protected sugared almonds. But the pleasures of Victorian Christmas weren’t for everyone. Hannah Cullwick, an overworked cook, was frightened that the tree set up in the kitchen by one of her fellow servants would be “too much for Missis, who won’t allow us 6d worth of holly”.

Modern Christmas (Victorian-Cards)
Greetings card, John Callcott Horsley, 1843, England. Museum no. MSL.3293-1987. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

The Christmas card was another Victorian innovation. Henry Cole, the director of the Victoria and Albert Museum, is usually given credit for “inventing” the mass-produced card. So popular did these become that, by 1880, the Post Office advised people to “Post Early for Christmas”. However, this merely meant the morning, rather than the afternoon, of Christmas Eve.

The 1880s saw a curious trend for cards depicting dead robins. Helpless birds, killed by the December cold, appealed to the sentimental Victorians, who had also revived the charitable side of Christmas. Charles Dickens, of course, did more than anyone else to spread the good cheer with A Christmas Carol (1843). The Penny Illustrated Paper began to run Christmas charity campaigns in aid of the unemployed Lancashire mill operatives; one reader sent them a thousand plum puddings. But Christmas was fast developing a consumerist side as well. “10,000 Penny Toys” shouted an advert for a shop in Oxford Street in 1863. Rocking horses and “walking dolls” were promised to those who braved the crowds.

Christmas (Dead Robin)

Christmas 1939 was the last for five years to be celebrated with butter and bacon, as food rationing began. The card game of Blackout was launched, and a popular gift was the Take Coverlet, a sleeping bag and coat combined, to wear on your way to the bomb shelter. The Ministry of Food implausibly claimed that nobody needed tropical fruit at Christmas because “vegetables have such jolly colours. The cheerful glow of carrots, the rich crimson of beetroot… looks as delightful as it tastes.”

Dead robins, decorative beetroot, eels and offal in your mince pies are festive traditions safely buried, but even today you may still encounter the odd Puritan or Scrooge. Don’t let them spoil your Christmas!

THE END

This is the last in the Christmas Series, so may we wish each and every reader a very Happy and Contented festive season; along with our best wishes for 2019.

Source:
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/topics/christmas/8973115/The-makings-of-a-modern-Christmas.html
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/topics/christmas/11314871/Father-Christmas-has-survived-another-year.html
Photo (Header): http://www.whitegloveconsultancy.com/history-christmas-dinner/

COPYRIGHT NOTICE2

Christmas: Georgian Style!

It was often assumed that during the Georgian period (1714-1830) Christmas was not celebrated with as much gusto as during the Victorian era. Although traditions, foods and celebrations differed, Christmas was, in fact, actively celebrated by the Georgians. We know that Christmas was banned by the Puritans in 1644, Christmas completely abolished and shops and markets kept open during the 25th of December. People were expected to continue going about their normal business and not partake in holiday celebrations or face fines and imprisonment. Puritans disliked Christmas because of its heathen origins and because of its association with extravagance and excess. This gave rise to the belief that Christmas fun and frivolity was not rekindled until the Victorian period. This was not stictly true for with the restoration of Charles II, Christmas was, in fact, re-instated – albeit in a more subdued manner. By the Georgian period (1714 to 1830), it was once again a very popular celebration.

Georgian Christmas 1
Christmas Eve, Willam Allan (1782-1850). Photo: ArtUK, Aberdeen Art Gallery & Museums

When searching for information on a Georgian or Regency (late Georgian) Christmas, who better to consult than Jane Austen? In her novel, ‘Mansfield Park’, Sir Thomas gives a ball for Fanny and William. In ‘Pride and Prejudice’, the Bennets play host to relatives. In ‘Sense and Sensibility’, John Willoughby dances the night away, from eight o’clock until four in the morning. In ‘Emma’, the Westons give a party. And so it would appear that a Georgian Christmas was very much all about parties, balls and family get-togethers. The Georgian Christmas season ran from December 6th (St. Nicholas Day) to January 6th (Twelfth Night). On St. Nicholas Day, it was traditional for friends to exchange presents; this marked the beginning of the Christmas season.

Georgian Christmas (Pudding)
Bringing in the Pudding. Photo: Jane Austen World.

Christmas Day was a national holiday, spent by the gentry in their country houses and estates. People went to church and returned to a celebratory Christmas dinner. But what of the food? Well, agriculture had come a long way since the Tudors, and so it was more likely than ever that every house could afford some kind of bird for the table. For the wealthy, venison was still the order of the day and a real indicator of status to show off to those invited to dinner. Another departure from Tudor tradition was mince pies which, under the Tudors, contained real mutton to honour the shepherds. During the Georgian era the mince pie recipe would include spices, dried fruit and suet, essentially a mixture we’d recognise today. Food indeed played a very important part in a Georgian Christmas. Guests and parties meant that a tremendous amount of food had to be prepared, and dishes that could be prepared ahead of time and served cold were popular.

Hogarth-Wanstead-WKPD
Hogarth’s ‘The Assembly at Wanstead House’, 1728-31. Photo: HistorisUK

For Christmas dinner, there was always a turkey or goose, though venison was the meat of choice for the gentry. This was followed by Christmas pudding. In 1664 the Puritans banned it, calling it a ‘lewd custom’ and ‘unfit for God-fearing people’. Christmas Puddings were also called plum puddings because one of the main ingredients was dried plums or prunes.

George I CCIn 1714, King George I was apparently served plum pudding as part of his first Christmas dinner as a newly crowned monarch, thus re-introducing it as a traditional part of Christmas dinner. Unfortunately there are no contemporary sources to confirm this, but it is a good story and led to his being nicknamed ‘the pudding king’.

Traditional decorations included holly and evergreens. The decoration of homes was not just for the gentry: poor families also brought greenery indoors to decorate their homes, but not until Christmas Eve. It was considered unlucky to bring greenery into the house before then. By the late 18th century, kissing boughs and balls were popular, usually made from holly, ivy, mistletoe and rosemary. These were often also decorated with spices, apples, oranges, candles or ribbons. In very religious households, the mistletoe was omitted.

The tradition of a Christmas tree in the house was a German custom and apparently brought to Court in 1800 by Queen Charlotte, wife of George III. However it was not until the Victorian era that the British people adopted the tradition, after the Illustrated London News printed an engraving of Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and their family around their Christmas tree in 1848.

A great blazing fire was the centerpiece of a family Christmas. The Yule log was chosen on Christmas Eve. It was wrapped in hazel twigs and dragged home, to burn in the fireplace as long as possible through the Christmas season. The tradition was to keep back a piece of the Yule log to light the following year’s Yule log. Nowadays in most households the Yule log has been replaced by an edible chocolate variety!

Georgian Christmas (Wassail)
A wassail bowl is passed around the table. Photo: Findmypast.

The day after Christmas, St Stephen’s Day, was the day when people gave to charity and the gentry presented their servants and staff with their ‘Christmas Boxes’. This is why today St Stephen’s Day is called ‘Boxing Day’. Then there was the popular drink at assemblies of the Wassail bowl. This was similar to punch or mulled wine, prepared from spiced and sweetened wine or brandy, and served in a large bowl garnished with apples.

January 6th or Twelfth Night signalled the end of the Christmas season and was marked in the 18th and 19th centuries by a Twelfth Night party. Games such as ‘bob apple’ and ‘snapdragon’ were popular at these events, as well as more dancing, drinking and eating.

Hogarth A Midnight Modern Conversation WKPD
Detail from Hogarth’s ‘A Midnight Modern Conversation’, c.1730. 

A forerunner of today’s Christmas cake, the ‘Twelfth Cake’ was the centrepiece of the party and a slice was given to all members of the household. Traditionally, it contained both a dried bean and a dried pea. The man whose slice contained the bean was elected king for the night; the woman who found a pea elected queen. By Georgian times the pea and bean had disappeared from the cake.

Once Twelfth Night was over, all the decorations were taken down and the greenery burned, or the house risked bad luck. Even today, many people take down all their Christmas decorations on or before 6th January to avoid bad luck for the rest of the year.

Unfortunately the extended Christmas season was to disappear after the Regency period, brought to an end by the rise of the Industrial Revolution and the decline of the rural way of life that had existed for centuries. Employers needed workers to continue working throughout the festive period and so the ‘modern’ shortened Christmas period came into being.

To finish, it seems only fitting to give Jane Austen the last word:
“I wish you a cheerful and at times even a Merry Christmas.” Jane Austen

THE END

Source:
https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/A-Georgian-Christmas/
http://www.earlymodernengland.com/2013/12/georgian-christmas-an-eighteenth-century-celebration/
https://blog.findmypast.co.uk/a-georgian-christmas-dinner-1503656888.html

COPYRIGHT NOTICE2

 

1830: Norfolk’s Version of the ‘Swing’ Riots

It was on the 4th December 1830, some say it was a Saturday morning, when the Town Clerk of Norwich City Council issued a Proclamation from the Guildhall on behalf of the City’s Mayor and Magistrates. It announced that the lawbreaking ‘Swing’ Rioters would be suitably punished; a message that the authorities considered the public should be clearly told about:

“A paramount duty which they owe to their Sovereign and their Country at this moment of general disturbance, to declare that, whilst in common with the rest of their Fellow Citizens, they are on the one hand ready to do all which sympathy and benevolence can suggest for the relief of distressed operatives in this populous place, so on the other hand it is their full determination to act with the promptitude, decision, and vigour, which circumstances imperatively demand in prohibiting tumultuous assemblies, and suppressing riotous proceedings, in opposing every kind of open outrage, and actively endeavouring to detect secret attacks on either person or property……..”

Swing Riots (Guildhall_EDP)
The Guildhall in Norwich, Norfolk from where the Proclamation was read on 4 December 1830. Photo via EDP (copyright owner unknown – see Notice below)

The authorities were also anxious that their ‘Fellow Citizens’ should know and understand that:

“……. Persons who are guilty of these lawless proceedings, are liable on conviction to suffer Death, and that the loss incurred by individuals by the destruction of their property must be paid for by the Public, and will consequently tend to increase the County Rate”

The lawless proceedings that the authorities referred to broke out on the morning of the 27th of November 1830 at Lyng Mill, a few miles north of Norwich. Unrest amongst workers had been festering for some time and came to head when a group of some 200 rioters gathered there. Because the mill owners had received notice of pending trouble, but not its size, only a certain Richard Tolladay had been taken on at the mill to provide extra security. It was somewhat inevitable that being alone Tolladay would fail to protect the paper-making machinery from being destroyed once the mob had decided to break into the Lyng Mill.

Swing Riots (Lyng Mill 1910_Norfolk Mills)
The Lyng Mill site in 1910. The Mill had to be repaired following Norfolk’s 1830 ‘Swing’ riots but closed permanately in 1868. Photo: Norfolk Mills – (copyright owner unknown – see Notice below)

No sooner had they completed their task, they proceeded towards their second objective, the paper-mill at Taverham, which they reached in the afternoon. Their intention this time was to destroy the highly productive ‘Fourdrinier’ paper-making machine. In the 1820s the principal paper maker at Taverham mill, John Burgess, was making a considerable amount of money from this revolutionary and highly productive machine.  He was one of the few men in the country who knew how to use it to supply not only the local Norwich printers but also customers as far afield as Cambridge University Press. The paper mill was certainly doing well and so was Burgess who went on to buy property and cottages in Norwich and Costessey. He not only bought the White Hart in 1819, but by 1830 he had rebuilt it.

Swing Riots (taverham-white-hart)
The White Hart Public House (left). Photo: see Notice below.

The ‘machine-breakers’ visit to Taverham was, again, not entirely unexpected. Some precautions had been taken by extra manpower being employed to guard the premises and machinery against attack. Doors were, of course, locked but this was totally ineffective against some 200 rioters who were mostly armed with hatchets and pick-axes. None of the workers at the Mill was hurt or even threatened, but the ‘Fourdrinier’ was put out of production when its breast-board was broken with an axe. Such a piece of the equipment supported the canvas apron along which the pulp was carried on to the wire belt at the beginning of the paper-making process.

Swing Riots (Taverham Mill_Alfred Priest 1839)1
Painting of Taverham Mill in 1839 by Alfred Priest. Photo: Norfolk Mills.

It should be said that these rioters had been inspired by the ‘Swing’ riots that had started in Kent but very soon spread through several counties, particularly in southern England. Farm life was far from easy in the 19th Century, but it really began to deteriorate from the end of the Napoleonic War in 1815. From then, machinery was gradually introduced into farming and factories, and this meant that less workers were needed and this, in turn, led to unemployment and increased poverty. At that time, Labourers did not have the vote or any way of protesting lawfully. Frustrations grew. The final straw came with the introduction of the threshing machine (used to separate grain from stalks and husks) which labourers knew would deprive them of their winter work. In August 1830 farm workers set fire to a threshing machine, in Kent, in a desperate bid to highlight their plight and need for fairer wages. This was the first reported incident of the Swing Riots – the aim was to destroy machines.

Swing Riots (Taverham Mill 1910)2
Taverham Mill in 1910. Photo: Norfolk Mills.

The name “Swing Riots” had been derived from ‘Captain Swing’, the fictitious name often signed on threatening letters which were sent to farmers, magistrates, parsons and others. ‘Swing’ was regarded as the mythical figurehead of the movement; apparently, the word was a reference to the swinging stick of the flail used in hand threshing. The Swing letters were first mentioned by The Times newspaper on 21 October 1830. In Norfolk, many agricultural and factory labourers caught the mood that had spread from the south and formed themselves into their form of ‘machine-breakers’, the sort who assembled at Lyng and Taverham. They too were involved in the destruction of threshing machines, and in this they had targeted Taverham’s Squire Micklethwait and farmer Joby at Weston Longville.

Richard Tolladay of Lyng Mill, anxious to make amends for his failure that morning, followed the rioters at a safe distance and concealed himself amongst some trees and bushes. From the shadows he recognised who he thought was the ring leader from that morning – Robert West and duely seized him with the help of a handful of accomplices. It was a move that was impulsive and with little regard to the fact that Tolladay’s group were badly outnumbered. Before West could be spirited away, he managed to wrestle free and escape, much to the delight of the rioters, whose cry of “There goes old Bob” was clear and unmistakable. Although he might well have congratulated himself on making what had been a lucky escape, West was to be at large long enough to miss the January 1831 Quarter Sessions in Norwich where he would have been more leniently treated.

Swing Riots (Dragoon Guards)
An Illustration of a typical Dragoon Guard. Photo: Wikipedia

As it was at the time, when the riots were taking place, an urgent message had already been sent to Norwich requesting help from the military. In response, a detachment of the 1st Dragoon Guards was dispatched to Taverham. It was almost dark by the time they arrived, and the rioters had already moved on – with the exception of one man, named Richard Dawson. He was found and arrested on the Fakenham Road; the rest of the rioters had made their way back towards the Lyng area where, probably thinking they were safe, lit a fire; however, unbeknown to them, they were being watched!

One must mention that, apart from the County’s landed gentry and business owners, there was a great amount of sympathy for the rioters from among the poor and working-class people of Norfolk. It was only a few days before the riot at Taverham when the Justices of North Walsham put out proclamations begging employers to accede to the machine-breakers’ demands. Much to the annoyance of the Government, particularly the Home Secretary Lord Melbourne, this sympathy extended to the jurors at the subsequent trials of the rioters. The only person to be charged with offences connected with the event in Taverham was the lone Richard Dawson, the young man arrested on the Fakenham road. As it turned out, he could not be implicated in the attack on the Mills, but was charged with destroying Squire Micklethwait’s threshing machine in Taverham Hall’s bullock yard.  The only witness against Dawson was one of the Squire’s employees, a Mr. D. Rose!

 

Swing Riots (Shirehall)
The Shire Hall was built in 1822. Here, both Richard Dawson and Robert West were tried for their part in the County’s ‘Swing’ riots of 1830.  Photo: unknown copyright owner – see Notice below.

It followed that, at the January 1831 Assizes, the jury acquitted Dawson on the grounds that there was only one witness; this, apparently, caused the Chairman to rather forcible informed them that ‘one witness was as good as a hundred’ – and directed the jury to reconsider their verdict. Such was the sympathy towards the rioters that, despite this official direction which came to almost an order for the jurors to convict, they returned a ‘Not Guilty’ verdict to what was said to be ‘great applause from the public gallery’. From this, the Home Office concluded that local people could not be trusted to take a firm line; they also were well aware that they could do nothing about those already acquitted or those who had received light sentences. Unlike today, there was no process of appeal against a ‘not guilty’ verdict and there was no such thing as double jeopardy.

Robert West was formerly arrested on the 6th June 1831 which, unfortunately for him, meant that he had missed the earlier court of January. By summer time the Norfolk Circuit Judges had also ‘got the message’ from the Home Office, which meant that the forthcoming Summer Assize would be quite a different affair. Far from being acquitted as Richard Dawson had been in January, West was, at first, condemned to death but later spared the noose when he was sentenced to be transported to New South Wale. He was never to see his wife and family again

Swing Riots (Convict Ships)
Illustration of typical early 19th century convict transportation ships. Photo: State Library of South Australia (B7177) and National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, UK (9402).

Robert West found himself on board the Portland, along with 177 other convicts from throughout England, parts of Scotland, Jamaica and Gibraltar. Their crimes included various forms of stealing, house robbery, forgery, passing base coin, embezzlement, poaching, picking pockets etc…. There were few if any violent criminals amongst them.  Most of the ‘Swing’ rioters sentenced to exile in New South Wales had been transported on the Eleanor in 1831, however at least three prisoners on the Portland had also been involved in Swing Riots……Robert West was one of them.

Prior to the 178 prisoners embarking at Spithead on 14 November 1831, they had been held in the prison hulks ‘Captivity’, ‘Leviathan’ and ‘York’ where the men had worked in the Dock-yard from seven o’clock until, twelve, in the mornings, and from a quarter past one o’clock until half past five, in the afternoons. Most of these prisoners were young men in a good state of health with the exception of a few who suffered chronic leg ulcers. The Portland’s prison guards consisted of two non-commissioned Officers, 27 Privates of the 4th and 39th regiments who were commanded by Lieutenant Archer of the 16th regiment. He travelled as a cabin passenger whilst two women and four children travelled in steerage.

Swing Riots (Spithead)
An Illustration of Spithead in the early 19th century. Photo: National Maritime Museum.

Joseph Cook, the Portland’s surgeon, kept a Journal from 21st October 1831 to 11 April 1832. In it, he stated that:

“the Portland did not depart Spithead until 27 November 1832; after when, the winds and weather were variable. Catarrh appeared as an epidemic during these days and continued to recur during the whole of the voyage, almost all on board having been affected with it more or less, but in the greater number of instances so slight as not to require confinement or medical treatment. The prisoners were also much affected with costiveness induced by sea sickness and change of diet but the general state of health on board during the voyage was good. The leg ulcers they had suffered with on arrival on the Portland speedily recovered under the surgeon’s treatment of adhesive straps and a change of air and better diet”.

During the voyage the convicts were admitted on deck daily as much as the state of weather and other circumstances permitted, one half taking their meals on deck alternatively. Attention was paid to cleanliness and the between decks kept as dry as possible. The Portland was off the coast of Brazil on 14th January 1832 and no heavy rain was reported until the Portland was off the coast of Australia when they also experienced strong westerly winds. The temperature occasionally reached 89° in the prison at nights while passing through the tropics. The Portland arrived in Port Jackson on 26th March 1832 and a Muster was held on board by the Colonial Secretary on 29th March. There had been no deaths during the voyage and the 178 male convicts were landed at Sydney on 6th April 1832. All except one, William Toll who had suffered scurvy, were fit for immediate employment.

Swing Riots (mellishsydneyharbour)
The Mellish entering the harbour of Sydney (1830?) by W.J. Huggins and engraved by E. Duncan. Photo: State Library of South Australia.

Tocal (meaning ‘plenty’ in the local Aboriginal language) is located in the lower Hunter Valley, of New South Wales, Australia, approximately 7 miles north of Maitland and about 110 miles north of Sydney at the junction of the Paterson River and Webbers Creek. It was there that Robert West was set to work on a farm until failing health caused him to be removed to Port Macquarie. He died in 1837 and today, his name is recorded on a memorial in the town which also has a reference to Lyng in Norfolk.

Postscript:
By a strange coincidence one of the partners who operated Taverham mill after the riots also ended up in New South Wales. It would appear that the experience of Norfolk’s version of the Swing Riots had discouraged the then Mill’s owner, Robert Hawkes; and despite the fact that his company was compensated for the damage he still decided to sell his share of the business and retire. The new partners with whom John Burgess found himself saddled with were two young men from wealthy local families, Henry Robberds and Starling Day. Unlike Robert Hawkes, they seemed not to have many business interests and they may have tried to ‘meddle’ at the Mill. This would not have pleased Burgess who was used to having a free hand to run the business and, whatever was ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back’, Burgess left the partnership in 1832 to take the lease on the vacant paper mill in Bungay. It was certainly a come-down in professional terms, since the Bungay mill was engaged in making brown wrapping paper by hand, instead of the machine-made white printing paper in which he was so experienced. However, on the credit side, he was at last his own boss again, and he continued to make money. But back at Taverham Mill things went from bad to worse. Firstly, Henry Robberds and Starling Day had lost John Burgess, the one partner who was an experienced paper-maker and instrumental in making a lot of money for the company. Then in 1839 two employees were killed when part of the mill collapsed and by 1842 both Henry Robberds and Starling Day were declared bankrupt. It was Robberds who emigrated from Liverpool with his family and no sooner was he settled in Sydney when, it was said, he became very involved in raising money for the construction of the new St James Cathedral there. A scan of the present-day directories seems to show that the Robberds name is still prominent in the life of Sydney.

Swing Riots (Historic_Sydney_Panorama)
A panoramic view of Sydney later on in the 19th century.

THE END

Sources:
https://norfolktalesmyths.com/2018/01/27/a-tale-of-taverhams-paper-mill
https://joemasonspage.wordpress.com/2013/08/25/robert-west-the-captain-swing-riots/
http://www.norfolkmills.co.uk/Watermills/taverham.html
https://convictrecords.com.au/convicts/west/robert/113559
https://convictrecords.com.au/ships/portland
www.ehsdatabase.elham.co.uk/Stories/SwingRiots.pdf
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captain_Swing
https://todayinsci.com/F/Fourdrinier_Henry/FourdrinierPapermakingMachine2.htm
https://www.jenwilletts.com/convict_ship_portland_1832.htm
Photos: https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11084327

FOOTNOTE:

COPYRIGHT NOTICE2

1834: From Norfolk to Penal Exile

Background:
The late 18th century was a problem period for the British Government insofar as industrialisation was fanning the growth of city-slums and there was much unemployment of soldiers and sailors following the American War of Independence. The crime rate was high, the prisons were overcrowded and there was no attempt to segregate the prisoners by their offence, age or sex.

In response the government began to issue harsh punishments such as public hangings or exile. It was a time when many prisoners were transported to Australia to carry out their sentence, a relatively small percentage of whom were women; certainly between 1788 and 1852, male convicts outnumbered the female convicts by six to one. But also included in Government policy was a wish to see that women convicts being sent to Australia were of “marriageable” age; a policy aimed at promoting family development for emancipated convicts, free settlers and to develop the penal outpost of New South Wales into a viable colony.

A myth that prevailed at the time was that convict women were all prostitutes; no they were not! The fact was that the majority of women sent to Australia were convicted for what would now be considered minor offences – such as petty theft and most did not receive sentences of more than seven years. Of course, many women were driven to prostitution following their arrival in Australia as means of survival because they were required to house themselves or buy clothing and bedding of their own. These women indeed faced extreme difficulty in achieving freedom, solvency and respectability. They would go on to be employed in ‘factories’ (equivalent of the English workhouse) but often had to find their own accommodation, and would be under great pressure to pay for it with sexual services. This was why women convicts tended to be regarded as prostitutes. But it is a popular misconception that they had originally been convicted of prostitution, for this was not a transportable offence.

Adams - Mary Ann (Shire Hall_Norwich)
The Shire Hall where the Norwich Assizes were held. (Photo: copyright owner unknown – see Notice below.)

Amongst the women convicts who would be subjected to many of the problems associated with transportation into exile was a Mary Ann Adams, aged 23, a dairymaid from Norfolk who in later Australian records described as being 5ft 1in in height, of pale freckled complexion, brown hair, grey eyes and with a scar over her left eyebrow. Mary had been committed to the 1834 Spring Norwich Assizes to face a charge of stealing a purse containing four sovereigns. She was found guilty of that charge on the 22 March of that year and, at first, was sentenced to death; but this was later commuted to life in the colonies – an alternative particularly favoured by the Norwich courts at that time. Was this also a reflection of the Government wish to increase the number of ‘marriageable’ women needed for the Australian colony? – Mary, for one, would never have known.

Adams - Mary Ann (Prison Cell)Following her sentence, Mary Adams spent approximately 3 months in Nowich Gaol, which, at that time, was located at the end of St Giles’ Street by the Earlham Road & Unthank Road junctions on a site now accupied by St John the Baptist Cathedral and built 1882-1910. While in Norwich Goal, Mary made a keepsake token from a worn-down two-pence coin. On it she inscribed:

“When you see this, remember me when I am far away”

This keepsake still remains on display at the Norwich Castle Museum to serve as a reminder as intended. Mary was transported to Woolwich, along with a Sarah Sharrods, servant, who had received a similar life sentence and a Ann Burke who had been sentenced to 14 years of exile at the previous December Assizes in Norwich. How and in what conditions these three travelled is unknown but, generally, prisoners destined to be transported for exile would have been secured in heavy chains and riding in open coaches, irrespective of weather conditions. It is unknown whether, on the way, the coach that carried them also picked up a further five prisoners in Suffolk – all of whom had been sentenced to 7 years each to exile. It may have been of some comfort that they travelled during the summer, at the same time when 136 other female convicts were travelling from cities and counties throughout England, Scotland and Wales to board the 1804 built George Hibbert at Woolwich.– all were chained for that journey.  The ship, controlled by the Master, Captain George N. Livesay and ship’s Surgeon Superintendent, John Tarn, was scheduled to sail on 27 July 1834.

This would be John Tarn’s second voyage as surgeon superintendent on a convict ship. As was his normal practice, he would keep a Medical Journal – this time between 7 June and 18 December 1834. It was for the 3rd to 17th of July 1834, that he would place on record the following general remarks, throwing light on the general health situation on board the George Hibbert, both prior to sailing and for the voyage:

“……. There were 144 female convicts, 11 free women and 64 children who were received on board at Woolwich, having been forwarded in parties from the different counties of Great Britain’. Most of the women were below middle age and in sufficient good health to make the journey without much risk of disease. The vessel was very crowded but the usual precautions to reduce risk of disease made for a healthy voyage. The convicts and children were on deck whenever possible and stoves were used to reduce dampness. Most complaints were affections of the bowels, catarrhal and dyspeptic attacks and diseases of the uterine system and were generally not severe. Bowel complaints appeared during the close, sultry weather and were mostly connected with hepatic secretions. Calomel and purgatives removed the symptoms. The voyage was longer than usual, taking 130 days, and there were numerous slight symptoms of scurvy for some weeks before arriving in Sydney. Lemon juice had been regularly issued and when it ran out it was replaced with [concrete] citric acid and a solution of nitre in vinegar. These remedies produced good effects particularly in the dysenteric cases. Among the children, only 11 were subjects for vaccination, 10 successfully and the other unsuccessful although the virus was taken from the arm of a healthy subject. –
Signed, John Tarn

It was during both the period when the ship was preparing to sail and also during the voyage that Mary Ann Adams was placed on a sick list on two occasions; the first being on the 14 July 1834 when her condition was recorded as “Convict; disease or hurt, amenorrhoea. Discharged, 25 July 1834. Had suffered suppression of the menses for several months and had dyspeptic symptoms, debility and languor.” As things turned out, many women were treated for illnesses whilst the George Hibbert was in port, and no less than 60 were treated for illnesses during the voyage; again, Mary Ann Adams was amongst these.

Adams - Mary Ann (Eliz Fry)2
Elizabeth Fry 1780 – 1845 

The George Hibbert was the first convict ship to have a Matron on board and credit here must be given to Norfolk’s Elizabeth Fry. Amongst many other things associated with Mrs Fry, she was the one who actively campaigned for the rights and welfare of prisoners who were being transported. She visited prison ships and persuaded captains to implement systems to ensure each woman and child would at least get a share of food and water on the long journeys. She also was to arrange for each woman to be given scraps of material and sewing tools so that they could use the long journey to make quilts and have something to sell when they reached their destination. Being religious, she gave bibles and useful items, such as string, knives and forks. During her time when she pushed for reforms, Elizabeth Fry visited over 106 transport ships and saw some 12,000 convicts. Her work helped to start a movement for the abolition of transportation which was to come about in 1837; however, Elizabeth Fry was still visiting transportation ships up to 1843. Throughout, she saw the need to communicate with Lord Melbourne on matters connected with the Ladies’ British Society; these chiefly covered that of transportation, female convicts on board ship and their treatment when they arrive in the colony. It also covered the need for matrons for convict ships……

The first Matron who undertook the office, sanctioned by both the Government and the Ladies’ British Society, was Mrs. Saunders, the wife of a missionary named John Saunders. Both were on board the George Hibbert; their passages paid for by the Government on condition that Mr Saunders administered his religious responsibilities amongst the ship’s convicts and passengers. In this he was almost alone since his wife was to suffer so much sickness which impeded her support for her husband during the voyage. Nevertheless, the authorities seemed well pleased with their efforts. Of the position of Mrs Saunders as Matron, Elizabeth Fry said “This is the only one we have sent out as a Matron. The British Society aided in the Expense and so did the Government; they allowed them the food of the ship”.

Another consequence of Elizabeth Fry’s and The British Society’s deliberations was the creation of a ‘Convict Ship Committee’, which was to visit the George Hibbert on no less than four occasions, prior to its sailing, to investigate conditions. Its conclusion was that:

”The ship was found to be much crowded, and serious inconveniences were felt, and were to be apprehended, during the voyage, from this circumstance. It is however to be noticed, with thankfulness, that both the captain and surgeon superintendent appeared to be peculiarly well qualified for the offices to which they were appointed.”

Adams - Mary Ann (Woolwich_Dockyard_1790)
Woolwich Dockyard

The Reverend John Saunders was to compile his own notes about both the voyage to New South Wales and his religious efforts during that voyage – understandably since that was a condition of a free passage for both him and his wife and he, no doubt, felt obliged to present a positive picture of his efforts. His Notes were dated 10 December 1834 :

“Divine Providence opened the way for service that evening; and I went down into the prisons, and had a pleasant season to my soul; and so of the succeeding days, till Sunday, when I envied the tranquillity of the Isle of Thanet: however, we had services between decks, and I trust they were not without their influence upon my own and the prisoners’ souls.

On Sunday or Monday night we had a smart breeze, and I felt myself a coward. It was then I discovered how the busy time of the last few months had eaten away faith and fortitude; it led me to prayer— which I trust was progressively answered during the voyage……We skirted the Bay of Biscay very pleasantly; and when we had got within the latitude of Africa, I felt myself away from Europe and my old world;—yet neither the expanse of ocean, nor the fact of absence, at all proved desolate. I was happy in my duties, and had a sufficiency of business in attending to a sick wife……

Adam - Mary Ann (Ships at Sea_Art Marine)
At Sea. Photo: Art Marine

“Disappointed in not being able to touch at Madeira, we made for the Canaries, a beautiful group of islands. They are of volcanic origin; and seemed to be so many sweet spots to remind man of the presence of God in the midst of the deep; and as if placed there to refresh his eye, wearied with the unvarying sight of the blue wave. Here we were favoured with a glimpse of the highest cone of Tenerife: the next day we anchored off Palma, so named, I believe, from its palms……..

Soon after leaving Faeroe, we got into the North East Trade winds, and nothing could be more beautiful than our sailing a good regular breeze, with clear weather. We maintained regular services both daily and weekly—the Sabbath services being conducted on the poop. Soon afterwards, we were on the verge of the Line: and here we lost a man named Davis, overboard: he had committed a flagrant breach of propriety, and seemed determined to drown his soul in perdition; accordingly, he got tipsy, vented most horrid blasphemies, and, unseen by others, fell overboard: when missed, most diligent search was made, but the boat returned without any trace of him…….

Our passage between the Trades was most merciful: instead of being scorched by the heat and lying rolling under calms, we had a pleasant wind, although contrary, which kept us cool, and was the messenger of health to our relaxed frames. After we entered the South East Trade winds, we ran on with great celerity; and sometimes, as I preached on the poop, I was obliged to hold on, while the water ever and anon rushed over the lee-gunwale, and the spray came splashing over the weather-bow………

Adam - Mary Ann (Tristan D_Cunha_slate.com)
Tristan D’Cunha. Photo: Slate.com. (see Copyright Notice below.)

When off Tristan D’Cunha we had a gale which much alarmed me. I was not well: we had again commenced services between decks, which amounted in the whole to six……… but shuddered at the prospective calamities which might arise to the passengers and crew……… before Monday night we had moderate weather; and Tuesday the 7th, my birthday, was most splendid, the air serene, cool, and clear. This was a happy commencement of my new year. I thought Heaven smiled upon me………We now ran pleasantly on, with very variable weather, until 24th November, when we had the happiness of seeing land, after having lost it for ninety-nine days. I felt it now my duty to redouble my exertions; and in addition to the services I have previously mentioned, I gave a lecture every evening, on some point of morality, such as Truth, Charity etc. Our hearts were all exultation: we were, however, kept both humble and patient; so that when we had baffling or fight winds, we took it gratefully, as part of all things.

Adams - Mary Ann (Storm)
Rought weather. Photo: Board Panda.- (see Copyright Notice below.)

Sunday 30th November, the last Sabbath at sea…….and I trust the service had a beneficial effect. Monday, we arrived (at Port Jackson), to deplore the sin and vileness everywhere manifest around. I preached on board, to the women who were not yet landed”.

Adams - Mary Ann (george hibbert1834)
– (see Copyright Notice below.)

The George Hibbert arrived in Port Jackson on 1 December 1834 with the 144 female prisoners being mustered on board on 5th December for the purpose of compiling indents which would include the name, age, religion, education, marital status, family, native place, trade, offence, when and where tried, sentence, prior convictions and physical description. No information was included in the indents as to where the women were to be assigned. According to the Rev. Saunders, the women disembarked on 15th December 1834. Those with children were probably taken by water directly to the Female Factory at Parramatta. Some may have been assigned to family members. Those with relatives already in the colony or about to arrive included Sarah Sharrod from Norfolk whose brother, Edward Sharwood, had arrived 18 months previously.

Adams - Mary Ann (Port Jackson)
(Photo: copyright owner unknown – see Copyright Notice below.)

On the 16th December 1834, Captain G.N. Livesay of the George Hibbert wrote to the owners of the George Hibbert in London.

“I have been very highly favoured in having an excellent Surgeon, and likewise a most excellent and worthy Man who has come over as a Baptist Missionary, Mr. John Saunders; he has proved a very great Acquisition; his kind attentions to the unfortunate Criminals has been unceasing, and many of them I hope will retain the grateful Remembrance of his Kindness to them; some of them who when they came into the ship could neither read nor write have left her well capable of doing both. His wife, a most amiable young woman was also very attentive and kind to them. The whole of them will have to acknowledge to the End of their Days that the George Hibbert has been a comfortable home to them; there were some few very bad spirits among them, but I am happy to say they made a small part of the whole……”

It was John Saunders who wrote to the Colonist in January 1835:

“His Majesty’s Government was pleased to grant myself and wife a free passage in order that I might exercise the ministration of the gospel on board: but such free passage consisted in an allowance to enter on the vessel – the necessary pecuniary arrangements having to be made with the captain. In common with yourself, I deplore the unfortunate circumstances attendant upon the female emigration vessels, and perceived the salutary influence which the regular performance of Divine worship had upon the prisoners on board the George Hibbert. I cannot but hope that government in future will grant free passages (in the full sense of the phrase) to sincere men of every denomination. It is a wise economy in any nation to expend her wealth on the religious advancement of her children. And here, I desire to acknowledge the zealous and efficient co-operation of the surgeon, superintendent and commander, gentlemen to whom not only I, but the members of the Ladies Prison Association in Britain and all friends to the diminution of crime, the reformation of the profane and the amelioration of human misery stand deeply indebted.”

Those who found themselves residing in the Hunter Valley region thereafter were Mary Ann Adams, and Sarah Sharrod……. As early as January 1835 some of the prisoners from the George Hibbert were already in trouble. The Sydney Herald reported:

” The female prisoners who lately arrived on the George Hibbert, seem fully equal to the task of rivalling in bad conduct those renowned damsels who arrived in the Colony a few years ago by the ‘Roslin Castle’ and ‘Lucy Davidson’, and who were so noted at the time for their bad behaviour. Scarce a day passes without a batch from George Hibbert being placed at the bar of the Sydney Police.”

Adams - Mary Ann (parramatta factory)
(Photo: copyright owner unknown – see Copyright Notice below.)

As for our two Norfolk women, it is worth noting their early records for a taste of what they went through:

Mary Ann Adams: A dairymaid from Norfolk age 24. Tried 22 March 1834 and sentenced to transportation for life for man robbery. She was 5ft 1in pale freckled complexion, brown hair, grey eyes. Scar over left eyebrow.

1837, Parramatta Application from Thomas Richardson per Florentia, ticket of leave holder, to marry Mary Ann Adams per George Hibbert

1 June 1842: Richardson (Adams) Mary Ann. Admitted to Newcastle gaol from Maitland. No offence. Returned to government service. Thomas Richardson admitted to the gaol on the same day on suspicion of theft.

7 February 1843: Richardson (Adams), Mary, late of George Hibbert 1834, Admitted to Newcastle gaol. Sentenced to 1 month hard labour for disorderly conduct

25 January 1845: Richardson (Adams) Mary Ann, Wollombi. Obtained Ticket of Leave.

Adams - Mary Ann (newcastle_gaol)2
Newcastle Gaol NSW. (Photo: copyright owner unknown – see Copyright Notice below.)

Sarah Sharrod: Maid of All work (Servant). Aged 26 from Norfolk

15 July 1835: Admitted to Newcastle gaol from Patrick Plains. Returned to government service. Re-assigned to Rev. Wilton at Newcastle 12 August.

29 December 1835: Newcastle. Assigned to Rev. Wilton. Accused Harrison, Earl, Johnson, Armstrong and Andrews of robbing her while in Church

October 1836. Newcastle. Register Book of Christ Church Cathedral, Newcastle. p. 66. Marriage of Sarah Sharrod aged 31 and Dennis Whythe (White) aged 38. Witnesses Anne and Benjamin Cox of Maitland.

1837.Newcastle. Sharrod) (Whythe) Sarah Age 28. Assigned to the gaol at Newcastle.

27 June 1840 Newcastle Gaol Entrance Book. Sharrod) (Whythe) Sarah Admitted to Newcastle gaol from Maitland. Sentenced to 3rd class female factory. Returned to her husband 24 August 1840.

25 March 1846. Newcastle Gaol Entrance Books. Sharrod (White) Sarah, Laundress from Norfolk. Admitted to Newcastle gaol from Maitland. Sent to Hyde Park Barracks.

27 May 1846. Sharrod (White) Sarah. Ticket of leave cancelled for being a prostitute.

6 November 1850. Sharrod (White) Sarah. Granted conditional pardon.

Thereafter, we lose touch with both the former Mary Ann Adams and Sarah Sharrods, both of whom married and maybe thereafter settled down, having experienced a ‘colourful existence’ during their early years in the colony. One, nowadays, would like to think that both had been victims of the circumstances of the time. A clue to Mary’s true nature may well still lay hidden behind the words she inscribed on that coin which resides in Norwich Castle Museum:

“When you see this, remember me when I am far away”

THE END

Sources:
https://convictrecords.com.au/convicts/adams/mary-ann/6186
https://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=6&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjployRj-3eAhUnD8AKHZ4wAU8QFjAFegQICBAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fdiscovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk%2Fdetails%2Fr%2FC10326856&usg=AOvVaw1fPshkO7k7Fsi-qZWwkK5b
https://www.jenwilletts.com/convict_ship_george_hibbert_1834.htm
https://www.jenwilletts.com/hunter_valley_place_names_N.html
https://www.jenwilletts.com/SettlersHome.htm

REFERENCES
[1] Sydney Herald 4 December 1834
[2] Memoirs of Mrs. Elizabeth Fry: By Thomas Timpson.
[3] The Pilot, or Sailors’ magazine – Notes of the Labours of Rev. John Saunders on his Voyage to New South Wales
[4] The Colonist 15 January 1835
[5] Sydney Gazette 15 January 1835
[6] Perth Gazette 21 March 1835
[7] Sydney Herald 29 February 1836
[8] Journal of John Tarn. Ancestry.com. UK, Royal Navy Medical Journals, 1817-1857 Original data:  The National Archives. Kew, Richmond, Surrey.
[9] Bateson, Charles & Library of Australian History (1983). The Convict Ships, 1787-1868 (Australian ed). Library of Australian History, Sydney : pp.352-53.
[10] Convict Indents. Ancestry.com. State Archives NSW; Series: NRS 12188; Item: [4/4019]; Microfiche: 693.

FOOTNOTE

COPYRIGHT NOTICE2

Mystery Surrounding HMS Lutine

The Norfolk town of Great Yarmouth was the home-port of HMS Lutine, a 32-gun frigate that had been captured from the French in 1793 and incorporated into the British Fleet. For the rest of 1790’s, she served with the North Sea Fleet and was responsible for keeping an eye on the Dutch coast and the French, ever since they invaded the Netherland in 1795. It was in the springtime 1799 the Britons and Russians began to make preparations for their own invasion of the Netherlands; this was to finally take place in the August. During the planning and implementation stages of this invasion, HMS Lutine was active in the North Sea and at the Waddenzee; her duties at first was to watch the Dutch coast, look out for French ships, and guide friendly ships through the dangerous waters of the Waddenzee and the Zuiderzee. During the invasion and afterwards, her duties also included the ferrying of supplies, troops, messages and instructions to other British ships in the area. The Lutine must have known the area like the back of its hand – you might think!

HMS Lutine (Yarmouth)1
The south west view of 18th Century Great Yarmouth, Norfolk. Photo: Mostly Maps.

In late September of 1799, HMS Lutine was again back in Great Yarmouth and lay at anchor waiting, along with her Captain Lancelot Skynner, to receive further orders; normal practice of course. The Captain knew it would be a short respite but, in all honesty, expected the next voyage to be one of helping to relieve the backlog of passengers, mail and supplies that had stacked high as a direct result of the bad weather that had persisted during the summer, placing the British trade with the continent at a standstill. The regular packet boats had failed to arrive in Yarmouth for such a long time. This situation was compounded by the Government’s own blocking policy against some continental ports, leaving Cuxhaven, the only harbour reachable for the British.  All this had enormous economic consequences for both the British and the Hanoverian traders who were deprived of profits and caused the Hanover and London Exchanges to close down on several occasions whilst hostilities were in progress. Many Hamburg trade houses were, in fact, threatened with bankruptcy and the Bank of England felt obliged to support the Hamburg trade whilst ensuring that the British troops who were now on Dutch soil were payed. The Bank of Englan decided to send loads of money as a matter of urgency! This decision had a direct influence on the orders that were communicated to HMS Lutine. She would not be transporting troops and provisions, but gold bullion and coinage of considerable value! This also meant that the Lutine would not be pursuing any form of hostile action.

HMS Lutine (Capt Skynner_ National Portrait Gallery)1
Captain Lancelot Skynner. Photo: National Portrait Gallery

The destination for this valuable cargo was Hamburg, via the port of Cuxhaven, where the Lutine would drop anchor, unload and routinely return to Great Yarmouth to await yet further orders. Compared with the hectic battle-actions during the proceeding months, this voyage was expected to be more like a holiday cruise now that 30 passengers had also been booked on board, despite the Lutine being a ship of war and, supposedly, still required to be on active readiness. Clearly, normal procedure was being dispensed with, and bear in mind that these passengers were not common steerage class; most were, in fact of high standing including, as has been rumoured since, an element of European nobility in the mix. It was this concoction which guaranteed that, once everyone had settled comfortably aboard, spirits would rise and a pleasant party would ensue, safe in the knowledge that they would be cruising in comfort and not likely to be hostages of war.

HMS Lutine (A Magicienne-class frigate)1
HMS Lutine. A Magicienne-class frigate

On the other side of the social class system that existed at the time were those who were expected to work and know their place in the scheme of things. Amongst these were the Yarmouth fishermen who happened to be in close proximity to HMS Lutine and later expressed their surprise of what they had seen aboard and around the ship that night of the 8th of October – a ship of war no less  which was fully lit and with an animated party going on in the Captain’s cabin; their view was that it was absolutely unacceptable in times of war. They were also around to witness the final touches being made to loading the Lutine with ‘unidentifiable’ cargo which, unseen to their eyes, would be secured below as best it could, bearing in mind that the gold was apparently stored in flimsy casks bound with weak iron hoops and the silver in casks with wooden hoops.

If common sense prevailed during the planning and loading of this valuable cargo then, surely, it would not have been stowed amidships in the shot lockers, adjacent to the main-cable room, with cannon balls being placed on top for an element of security. Yes, the midship section with its cable-room and shot lockers did occupy a large space, but this was freely open to the crew by reason of the exigencies of service. It would have been difficult to justify the placing of such riches in such an exposed place. On the other hand, the after Magazine of a frigate was a carefully guarded room; so one must assume nowadays that either than compartment, or one of the divisions lying in the same after section of the ship would have been the likeliest place to hold valuables that called for continual surveillance.

In the early hours of the 9th of October 1799 HMS Lutine set sail from Great Yarmouth, taking a north-easterly course to the Northern islands of The Netherlands with the intention of changing course from there in a more easterly direction towards the Elbemouth. During the day the weather began to change for the worst and, in the evening, as the ship approached the Dutch islands, the wind turned into a strong gale that blew from a north-westerly direction. At about 11 PM, in complete darkness, the Lutine sailed under considerable speed on a half-wind course on to the outer banks west of Terschelling. The damage to the ship was considerable and the crew understood immediately that it was lost. The heavy breakers that develop on these banks in stormy weather, particular with Northerly winds, were known to be notorious. In just a few hours the HMS Lutine was totally wrecked, but within this time the crew managed to fire a few cannons and launch emergency rockets. These signals were noticed on the islands but such things were not really a surprise to the population – this was just another shipwreck in a long line of tragedies in the area between Terschelling and Vlieland. As it was, the difficult position of the ship, about 4 miles from the beach, together with the gale made immediate rescue impossible. The inevitable outcome was that all the crewmembers and passengers, totalling 270 souls, were drowned – except for one crewmember. He was found alive the next morning when the wind had eased off and rescue-ships had been able to approach the area of the wreck.

HMS Lutine (In Distress)1
HMS Lutine in distress. Photo: Wikipedia
HMS Lutine (Captain Porlock)1
Captain Porlock

Captain Portlock, commander of the English squadron at Vlieland wrote the Admiralty in London:

”Sir, It is with extreme pain that I have to state to you the melancholy fate of his majesty’s Ship Lutine, which ship ran onto the outer banks of the Fly Island Passage on the night of the 9th. Instant heavy gale of wind from the NNW and I am much afraid the crew except one man, which was saved from the wreck, have perished……This man when taken up was almost exhausted. He is of present tolerably recovered, and relates that the Lutine left Yarmouth Roads on the Morning of the 9th instant, bound to Texel, and she had on board Considerable quantity of Money…..”

Both the media of the day and the official conclusion of the British was that a heavy storm had caused the loss of the ship and, on that basis, Lloyd’s paid out a huge sum of insurance money. The case was closed, however, in the case of HMS Lutine, things were not as simple as they looked.

In 1997,  during the planning stage for a 200 year commemoration event on Terschelling and Vlieland the organisers revisited the subject of what really caused the Lutine tragedy; they did this by analysing past records and publications. It soon became evident that the story was far from complete. In fact, the relevant details about the shipwreck itself and the official enquiry that followed were remarkably limited in what was revealed; so much so that suspicions were inevitably raised. These suspicions were followed by the conclusion that the storm alone could not have caused the HMS Lutine to sink. The facts were these: – The ship herself was in a perfect state of maintenance, following a complete overall twelve months previously when even the rigging was renewed. Also, the crew was highly experienced, both in handling of the ship and in the navigation in the coastal waters of the Dutch and German islands. In fact, the area of the North Sea just off the Dutch coast had been a primary patrol-area for HMS Lutine before she became involved in the British and Russian invasion of the Netherlands. A storm such as the one which hit this ship, when sailing half-wind, was certainly not a problem for a large frigate; handling it would have been a routine procedure. The conclusion was that the cause of the accident was human failure.

HMS Lutine (Arrow)1
Captain Portlock’s ship  HMS Arrow. Photo: Wikipedia

Interest then fell on what the only survivor had to tell; surely this crown-witness would have been interviewed? But, not even his name could be found in the files.  The only item that was found was just a brief note in the Logbook of Captain Portlock of  HMS Arrow, the ship where the man was subsequently placed. It stated that the man had recovered with the help of the ships-surgeon and gave some information about the Lutine and her destination. But then the information stops, not even his name was mentioned. The relevant files of the Admiralty archives did indicate that a period of intensive correspondence started directly after the accident, this was between the Admiralty in London, Captain Portlock of HMS Arrow and the commander of the invasion-fleet Vice-Admiral Mitchell who was aboard the HMS Isis. But all their correspondence had been subsequently removed from the archives and no records of any further investigation, such as a court-martial, even existed. It seemed self-evident that the absence of such documents, which may have proved exactly what had happened aboard the Lutine leading up to its sinking, pointed to another cause which the authorities chose to hide? Did the only survivor have had an unpleasant story to tell, and could his account have shown that human error had caused the accident?

However, all was not lost in the 1997 investigation into the possible real cause which led to the sinking of HMS Lutine. A small, but valuable, piece of evidence came to light in the form of a Muster List of the HMS Isis no less; this list had recorded the names of newly arrived crewmembers. It also showed that on the 18th of October, nine days after the wreck of the HMS Lutine, a certain Able Seaman John Rogers, came aboard the Isis where the ships-clerk wrote a small note near his name: “from the Arrow, the late Lutine.  When compared with the last existing Muster List of HMS Lutine, it confirmed that not only had John Rogers sailed on the ship, but that he was also, up to that point, the only survivor of the Lutine’s sinking. Although this man’s legs had been seriously wounded, he had been kept on HMS Isis for an exorbitant length of time. Then, when the invasion-campaign was over and the Isis had returned to British waters, in January 1800, this man was sent to the Hospital ship Spanker. However, after treatment he was still not allowed to go ashore but was placed on HMS Grana, moored near Sheerness. Thereafter he disappeared silently from the records and was never heard of again! Someone, or other, seemed to have kept him out of sight and far away from the media of the day. Was it possible that his story would have embarrass the Admiralty and proved negligence for which they would have been responsible. If that had been the case, Lloyd’s would have refused to pay out the insurance money. Then, there were the drowned passengers! Among them was the group of high-standing civilians and nobility from England, France and Luxembourg. One would think that, had the Admiralty been to blame, the relatives of those drowned would have demanded some degree of satisfaction for their losses.

Immediately after the wreckage salvage actions were organised by the Captains of the nearby moored British warships, the Arrow, Swinger and Pelter.  They were not the alone. Dutch fisherman also showed much interest, considering the note in the Logbook of the Swinger on the 11th of October: “Sent the Cutter manned and armed with Lieut. Braddel to the wreck to Prevent the Dutch from Robbing Her”. During the few weeks that the English ships stayed near the islands all kind of objects was salvaged from the wreck, like weapons and food. Remarkably however was that nothing is said about the gold or silver.

What happened next was an exercise in salvage and sophisticated reclamation of assets – or, if you like, wrecking – which still attracts scholars to this day. To think that all this started as soon as the vessel hit the seabed and the bed began to eat her up, piling sand up around her and for the coming decades that remained the pattern – the ship being revealed and reburied, revealed and reburied as the sands moved around her. Several companies and groups have made attempts to salvage the cargo. Some have been lucky and some have failed. They were all after a treasure which some have estimated as being as much as ₤10.000.000. If true, then there must still be a huge fortune at the bottom of the IJzergat.

But what then is the difficulty? In such a place, wind, tide and everlasting currents can play freely with everything. In no time at all following the sinking, the Lutine’s remains had been covered with sand and nothing in the Waddenzee ever keeps its position, so the ship was really lost – for a long long time. Modern archaeological research has showed that, within a few hours after the ship ran aground, the rear part of the hull broke off and drifted away, with wind and currents in south-easterly direction, crossed the Ijzergat channel and ran aground again on the banks on the south side. The attention of the first salvers was directed to the main-section of the ship and so the rear-end of the ship was left alone and forgotten. The fact that all the gold and silver bars and most of the coinage so far recovered have been found buried about the remains of the Lutine’s stern, bearing out the belief that the its treasure had, indeed, been originally housed in the Magazine – or nearby. Maybe, at this very moment, new excavations are under way? If so then those undertaking the most recent salvage will be armed with the knowledge that ‘special‘ cargoes were usually stored in the rear section of these old sailing ships. It should not come as a surprise when some shiny bars eventually surface in the not too distant future. Perhaps then, we will finally witness the end of this story.

FOOTNOTE:
Anyone familiar with Lloyd’s of London, the insurance underwriting exchange, may also be familiar with this chap, or more specifically the thing he is ringing:

Lloyds of London Image Portfolio Feb2011
“Lloyd’s building Lutine Bell” by Lloyd’s of London – Licensed under CC BY 2.5 via Wikimedia Commons

That is the Lutine Bell, in the Underwriting Room. Traditionally, it was rung to announce the fate of a ship which had been late at its destination port. If the ship had arrived safely, the bell was rung twice; if it was sunk, it was rung once, to immediately stop the sale of any further reinsurance on the downed vessel by unscrupulous insiders. These days, the two rings mean there is a distinguished visitor to Lloyd’s. One ring is used to note events or anniversaries, such as Remembrance Day.

THE END

Sources:
https://www.cii.co.uk/media/581215/weerdt.pdf
http://www.allaboutshipping.co.uk/2012/10/16/hms-lutine-treasure-and-salvage/
http://www.riddleofthesands.net/wordpress/2015/09/29/isnt-there-the-wreck-of-a-treasure-ship-somewhere-farther-west/
www.scribeweekly.com/de%20lutine.htm
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Lutine_(1779)
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/pumping-gold-bullion-from-the-sea/

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

The Time Nelson Got Pickled!

Nelson Pickled (wikipedia. Horatio Nelson)
Rear-Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson painted by Lemuel Francis Abbott in 1799. (Photo: Public Domain/WikiCommon

Before the Battle of Trafalgar on 21 October 1805, Nelson sent out the famous signal to his fleet ‘England expects that every man [ship] will do his duty’. A few hours later, while leading the attack on the combined French and Spanish fleet, Britain’s most famous naval hero was struck by a fatal musket ball – at the very moment of his greatest strategic triumph.

Nelson Pickled (Nelson & Hardy_1805)
Mortally wounded Nelson with Captain Thomas Hardy.

Later, as the Battle of Trafalgar raged overhead and just before their poignant farewell kiss in the cockpit of HMS Victory, the dying Nelson was said to have whispered to Captain Thomas Hardy: “Don’t throw me overboard.” To which came the reply “Oh no – Certainly Not!” Hardy knew that there could be no question of burying the hero of Trafalgar at sea, as was the practice for the rest of the British dead. The Country would wish to bury Nelson at home with full honours.

Nelson Pickled (Thomas Hardy)
Captain Thomas Masterman Hardy. (Photo: Public Domain/WikiCommons)

The outcome of the Battle of Trafalgar turned out to be a total victory for Nelson’s British Fleet, but with the death of its commanding officer. HMS Victory, the Flag Ship, had been badly damaged and would have to be put into Gibraltar for repairs before making the voyage home. This presented a problem for both Hardy and the ship’s surgeon, William Beatty. They were faced with preserving Nelson’s body for some considerable time, possibly two months, until they could dock at a English port. The two agreed to ‘pickle’ Nelson in a large barrel, but on the advice of Beatty, the preserving solution would be brandy, mixed camphor and myrrh – not rum as persistent naval tradition dictated. Time would tell whether Beatty was right or wrong but, before that moment, HMS Victory had to limp back, under tow by the 98 gun ship ‘Neptune’. Victory finally anchored at Gibraltar one week after the battle  – a ship grieving, wounded and jury opinionated.

Nelson Pickled (Sir William Beatty)
Sir William Beatty, surgeon, who was responsible for the preservation of Nelson’s body during the long journey back to England. (Photo: Public Domain/WikiCommons)

News of Nelson’s death took 16 days to reach London, arriving on the 6 November; the ship that brought it was – excuse the pun – HMS Pickle! The news of the victory at Trafalgar and the loss of Nelson was met with muted celebration and, of course, sadness. Britain’s Navy had then established undisputed mastery and control at sea which was to last for over a century. The victory had removed the threat of invasion by Napoleon – but at a cost. The Times newspaper captured the mood of the nation:

‘We do not know whether we should mourn or rejoice. The country has gained the most splendid and decisive Victory that has ever graced the naval annals of England; but it has been dearly purchased. The great and gallant NELSON is no more’ (Hibbert, page 382).

Nelson Pickled (HMS Pickle-replica)
A replica painting of HMS Pickle which brought news of Nelson’s death to England. Photo: https://www.royalnavy.mod.uk

For the next two months, England would be in a frenzy. The Times ran daily articles about Nelson’s death and the homeward progress of his flag-ship, the Victory; but each and everyone of them was pure speculation. Eyewitnesses to the event were, after all, still at sea and electronic and digital communication had not yet been invented. Members of the public were no better than the newspapers, many of their contributions were poems of lamentation and The Times had to ask them to stop sending them. Nobody in England yet knew what had transpired in Nelson’s final moments, nevertheless the Drury Lane Theatre still staged nightly re-enactments; there was no escaping Nelson mania.

In the meantime, Nelson’s body had been placed in a cask filled with brandy on 22 October 1805 and lashed to the deck and would be under guard for the journey to both Gibraltar and then to England. The barrel would also need to be topped up more than once due to the body’s natural absorption of the liquid. Stories of sailors drinking the alcoholic concoction out of respect for Nelson were merely fantastical hearsay, however they made for a good yarn – over a drink maybe!

Nelson Pickled (Battle_of_Trafalgar_Poster_1805)
A poster heralding the Battle of Trafalgar, and the “most renowned, most gallant and ever to be lamented hero Admiral Lord Viscoun Nelson”. (Photo: Public Domain/WikiCommons

HMS Victory arrived in Gibraltar on 28 October 1805 where the body was immediately moved to a lead-lined coffin and refreshed by replacing the brandy with spirits of wine to ensure continued preserving whilst essential repairs to the Victory were carried out. Then on 4 November, HMS Victory set sail for England but within two weeks into the journey, the gaseous pressures would burst the lid of the cask, startling one of the watchmen so much that he thought Nelson had returned to life and was trying to climb out. Despite this, the preserving process worked pretty well, the body remaining in near perfect condition throughout the long return voyage, which included a week long storm labelled “The Storm of the Century”.

Meanwhile, London was gearing up for the most lavish funeral celebration imaginable. Every coastal town in southern England was on alert to prepare multi-gun salutes, militia parades, and black crepe street hangings “to turn out at a moment’s warning” if and when the Victory landed nearby. There was popular support to erect a huge Nelson monument under the central dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. (They settled for a fancy tomb and a smaller statue by the wall.)

Nelson Pickled (Funeral Entrance_ticket)
An entrance ticket for Nelson’s funeral. (Photo: Wellcome Images/WikiCommons)
Nelson Pickled (Grand_Funeral_Car_of_Lord_Nelson_Wellcome_L0010965)
A depiction of Nelson’s “Grand Funeral Car”. (Photo: Public Domain/WikiCommons)

HMS Victory reached England on 4 December 1805 and was inundated with a stream of visitors. If anyone on board had doubted the intensity of the public’s interest, then it could no longer be questioned. Beatty’s responsibility then was to prepare the body for lying in state in Greenwich; this meant removing Nelson’s somewhat deteriorated pickled remains from the cask, wrap them in clean linen, and transfer them to a lead coffin, again filled with brandy, as well as camphor and myrrh. This was carried out on 11 December 1805 when Beatty took the opportunity to conduct an autopsy, during which he recovered the musket bullet and a piece of gold epaulet—proof Nelson had been struck in the shoulder before the bullet lodged in his spine.

Beatty was to write up his findings for the Admiralty and Nelson’s brother, but his primary objective was not fact finding: he needed to empty out Nelson’s abdominal soft tissues, which were decomposing at a faster rate than everything else. Although Beatty would later claim the corpse was in perfect condition, both he and the chaplain wrote letters to their higher ups suggesting the face was by then a little too gruesome for public viewing.

Nelson Pickled (L'Orient Explodes)
The French ship L’Orient explodes at the Battle of the Nile

On December 13, the Times ran an editorial imploring the public not to march a wax likeness of Nelson through town, “pageantry which borders upon childishness.” No rumour was too insignificant to print, and no monument too improbably large. The entire nation, regardless of class or occupation, was riveted. On the 21 December the lead coffin was again opened and the body placed in another coffin made from L’Orient’s mainmast – a French ship that had been destroyed in the Battle of the Nile and a present given to Nelson in 1799 from Benjamin Hallowell, then captain of HMS Swiftsure. The coffin was then placed in another made of lead and then one final body shift, to a wooden coffin—Beatty cautious to make sure Nelson’s skin didn’t fall off in front of everybody—it would be a closed-casket farewell tour. The official account of this appeared in the Authentic Narrative of the Death of Lord Nelson, dated 1807′:

 

“The Remains were wrapped in cotton vestments, and rolled from head to foot with bandages of the same material, in the ancient mode of embalming. The Body was then put into a leaden coffin, filled with brandy holding in solution camphor and myrrh. This coffin was enclosed in a wooden one, and placed in the after-part of HIS LORDSHIP’S cabin; where it remained till the 21st of December, when an order was received from the Admiralty for the removal of the Body. The coffin that had been made from the mainmast of the French Commander’s ship L’Orient, and presented to HIS LORDSHIP by his friend Captain HOLLOWELL, after the battle of the Nile, being then received on board, the leaden coffin was opened, and the Body taken out; when it was found still in most excellent condition, and completely plastic. The features were somewhat tumid, from absorption of the spirit; but on using friction with a napkin, they resumed in a great degree their natural character. All the Officers of the ship, and several of HIS LORDSHIP’S friends, as well as some of Captain HARDY’S, who had come on board the Victory that day from the shore, were present at the time of the Body’s being removed from the leaden coffin; and witnessed its undecayed state after a lapse of two months since death, which excited the surprise of all who beheld it. This was the last time the mortal part of the lamented Hero was seen by human eyes; as the Body, after being dressed in a shirt, stockings, uniform small-clothes and waistcoat, neck cloth, and night-cap, was then placed in the shell made from L’Orient’s mast, and covered with the shrouding. This was enclosed in a leaden coffin; which was soldered up immediately, and put into another wooden shell: in which manner it was sent out of the Victory into Commissioner GREY’S yacht, which was hauled alongside for that purpose. In this vessel the revered Remains were conveyed to Greenwich Hospital; attended by the Reverend Doctor SCOTT, and Messrs. TYSON and WHITBY.”

On 23 December, the coffin was collected from HMS Victory, moored in the River Medway, by the Sheerness dockyard commissioner George Grey’s official yacht Chatham. From there, the coffin was taken up the Thames to Greenwich Hospital where, on 25 December, it was placed in a private room until 4 January 1806. Nelson’s corpse had spent 80 unrefrigerated days above ground; now it was all over – but not quite. The gossip continued.

Nelson Pickled (The Barrel)
“This large barrel represents the original water leaguer in which Nelson’s body was contained for its journey back to England for burial. Photo: Margaret Muir

Despite the fact that Beatty was now famous, partly by his own doing, people still wondered, sometimes to Beatty’s face, why he did not use rum instead of brandy. Countless printed accounts maintained that Beatty did use rum, because that’s what is always used – isn’t it? Popular slang also popped up; navy rum, mixed with brandy, was now “Nelson’s Blood.” Surreptitious tippling on the sly was “Tapping the Admiral”.

In 1807, Beatty fought back with a bestselling book, Authentic Narrative of the Death of Lord Nelson, which let readers know in an authoritative third-person voice that all of his decisions had been exceptionally clever, and by the way brandy was the better choice.

Beatty said of his decision to use brandy,

“……a very general but erroneous opinion was found to prevail on the Victory’s arrival in England, that rum preserves the dead body from decay much longer and more perfectly than any other spirit, and ought therefore to have been used: but the fact is quite the reverse, for there are several kinds of spirit much better for that purpose than rum; and as their appropriateness in this respect arises from their degree of strength, on which alone their antiseptic quality depends, brandy is superior. Spirit of wine, however, is certainly by far the best, when it can be procured.”

This worked – but then, it did not!. The Authentic Narrative became the go-to source for historians interested in Nelson’s final moments, and Beatty died wealthy—a king’s physician, and a knight. However, the Nelson-rum connection remains tenacious, with several liquor companies selling bottles of spiced rum named after the Admiral pickled in brandy. There are still pubs all across England called The Lord Nelson.

As for the killer musket ball, Captain Hardy (of “Kiss me, Hardy” fame) let Beatty keep it as a good luck charm. He used it as a watch fob for the rest of his life. When he died in 1842, his family gave it to Queen Victoria. It’s in the grand vestibule of Windsor Castle.

Nelson Pickled (HMS Pickle)2
The Nelson Bullet.

A word about surgeons:

Today, the title evokes respect. These are the cool-under-pressure miracle workers who can clean out a heart and rewire nerve endings. In the 1800s, this was quite different. This was a time not altogether removed from the barber-surgeon days; in the absence of anaesthesia, most surgeons were essentially brawlers, burly guys who could hold you down or knock you out while they sawed and sewed. They often came from the lower classes – although this was less true in the navy than on land – and, unlike the ship’s physician, were not typically invited to dine with the commissioned officers. Although the profession was trying to set up a system of accreditation, most of the public still viewed surgeons as a cross between butchers and sideshow performers, and they weren’t far wrong.

Nelson’s surgeon, William Beatty was, however, exceptionally competent. At Trafalgar, 96 of 102 casualties treated by Beatty survived, including 9 of 11 amputees. To put this into some sort of context, battlefield statistics collected in 1816 found amputation’s mortality rate in the best case scenario was 33 percent, and in less optimal conditions more like 46 percent. Beatty was not working in a best case scenario, according to Nelson’s Surgeon by Laurence Brockliss, John Cardwell, and Michael Moss. Beatty had to work in a small, poorly-lit, cabin on a ship under attack – and then in a hurricane. To make matters worse, he was understaffed.  Beatty’s staggering survival rate is all the more remarkable when you remember that Pasteur’s work on germ theory and Lister’s development of antiseptic surgery wouldn’t happen for another 50 years.

Beatty was also Irish at a time when Anglo-Irish relations were complicated. Although the two countries were firmly joined by the Acts of Union 1800 (creating the still-used Union Jack flag), that firmer union was a direct response to the Irish Rebellion of 1798, which was in turn a response to English brutality in Ireland. So although almost a quarter of the British seamen at Trafalgar were Irish, they were largely confined to the lower ranks.

Meanwhile, there were plenty of Irish fighting on the French side, a whole legion of them waiting to invade the British Isles. Ireland was about as unified as Afghanistan.

So, looking at Beatty, you have someone outside the chain of command; who had no significant patrons or connections to institutional power; who was Irish. This was the person who took charge of Nelson’s body; who was ‘allowed’ to take charge of Nelson’s body—essentially because he was bold enough to say “I think I know how to do this,” and his co-workers trusted his skill. Finally – and despite all the criticism about what spirit should be used to pickle Nelson, Beatty was knighted for his services to the Crown.

Nelson Pickled (Tomb) 1
Nelson’s tomb in St Paul’s Cathedral, London. (Photo: Marcus Holland-Moritz/flickr)
Nelson Pickled (Column) 1
Nelson atop his column in Trafalgar Square, looking over London. (Photo: RedCoat/WikiCommons SS BY-SA 4.0)s)

Footnote:

On Tuesday, Sep 23, 2008, a box, believed to be made of wood from a barrel that held Lord Nelson’s body preserved in brandy on its voyage back to Britain, was sold for £8,160. This tiny box measured 2.6 inches by 1.8 inches and less than an inch deep. It was a commemorative item with silver inlays.

Nelson Pickled (Box) 1

THE END

Sources:

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/1497217/Final-voyage-of-a-fallen-hero.htmlhttps://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-scandalous-decision-to-pickle-admiral-horatio-nelson-in-brandy
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/15233/15233-h/15233-h.htm
https://www.royalcollection.org.uk/collection/61158/the-nelson-bullet
http://www.speel.me.uk/sculptlondon/nelsonscolumn.htm

Photos:Wikimedia.org and Google Images
Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2833284
http://collections.rmg.co.uk/collections/objects/14219.html
https://www.rct.uk/collection/61158/the-nelson-bullet

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

 

 

 

Norfolk Militia Omnibus

Overview:

During periods of war, Britain has long relied on soldiers on home soil to ease the fear of invasion. As far back as Anglo-Saxon times, able-bodied men were bound to serve in a militia army, called the fyrd, mobilised usually as a reaction to raids by Vikings. The fyrd comprised a core of experienced soldiers supplemented by ordinary villagers and farmers. Its function was to defend local lands from invaders. They were not full-time fighters, but bound to serve when the king needed them. Men could be fined if they neglected service in the fyrd on being called up.

Norfolk Militia (Battle of Hastings)
King Harold’s army at the Battle of Hastings (1066) included the fyrd. Photo Copyright: National Army Museum.

The decay of feudal life in Britain during the 16th and 17th centuries led to a rise in mercenary soldiers who could be paid to fight. This might have meant that locally conscripted civilian militiamen no longer played a part in defence. But the British Civil Wars (1639-52), and the reign and deposition of King James II in 1688, showed that a centralised army could be used as an instrument of royal tyranny or political revolution. The part-time militia was preserved as a counter to a small professional army that had to be sanctioned by Parliament. It became an increasingly important institution in civilian life. The Militia Act of 1757 transformed these men further into a better-trained and better-equipped national force, organised by county.

The Militia was very much local in character. Militia officers were gentlemen chosen by the local landowner and the ordinary militia soldiers were local farmers, tradesmen and labourers. These were conscripted by ballot from their own communities – unless they could produce a substitute – to serve for five years.

Norfolk Militia (Knapsack 1795)
Militia knapsack, about 1795. Copyright; National Army Museum
A knapsack was among the 60-odd pounds of equipment carried by soldiers at this time. It was in these sacks, tied with leather straps, that the men carried their kit. This included items such as shirts, spare shoes, stockings, brushes, a button stick, comb, pen, ink, black ball, pipe clay, and tent pegs.
The design of this piece of equipment changed over time. Until the introduction of the famous ‘Trotter’ black lacquered knapsack, designed by Thomas Trotter of Soho Square in 1805, troops carried a canvas version on their backs, supported by straps (from 1790 to 1805). This canvas type was still worn by militia men who had joined line regiments in the 1815 campaigns.
As in this example, the number of the regiment or volunteer unit to which the wearer belonged was inscribed on the front flap of the knapsack. This one has a badge on a red background including the cypher of King George III, crown and thistles, encircled by the name of the 10th Regiment North Bristol Militia.

Uniforms and weapons were provided and regiments were assembled for training and to deal with civil disturbance. The sheer number of eligible men obliged to serve in the militia meant that many more ordinary civilians had experience of military service than they do today

End of compulsion:

Although muster rolls were prepared as late as 1820, compulsory obligation to serve in the Militia was abandoned in the early 19th century. Those who joined would return to their day jobs after initial training, subsequently reporting only for extra instruction and the two-week camp every year. There was never an obligation for Militia to serve overseas like regular soldiers sent on active service, and for all ranks it was a relatively soft option in comparison. However, the Militia still appealed to agricultural labourers and men in casual occupations who could leave their civilian job and pick it up again. And the pay they received could be a useful top-up of their usual wages.

The Militia Act of 1757:

Norfolk Militia (Officer 1759)
Officer of the Norfolk Militia, 1759 Photo:WikiVisually 

The Seven Years’ War was a global conflict fought between 1756 and 1763. It involved every European great power of the time and spanned five continents, affecting Europe, the Americas, West Africa, India, and the Philippines. The Militia Act of 1757, passed at an early stage of the Seven Years War, enabled part-time reserve forces to be raised in each County of the British Isles. Each Lord Lieutenant was to command the Militia of his County and recruiting was the responsibility of him and his deputy lieutenants. Each County was to provide a given quota of men according to its population.  The men were chosen by ballot in each parish and had to serve for three years or they could provide substitutes or compound for a monetary payment, and there were various exemptions. The Act replaced earlier less-formal arrangements and led to better records being kept, and the men were selected by ballot to serve for longer periods. Proper uniforms and better weapons were provided, and the force was ’embodied’ from time to time for training sessions.

In effect, Militias were formed to be the “Home Guard” for the British Isles should there be an attack by foreign powers….notably the French. While this was the “primary” reason for the Militia’s existence, it was no doubt thought that in times of civil unrest, the Militia could be used to put down any pro-revolutions by the population. For this reason, most militia rarely served in the area in which they were raised so as not to be put in the situation of shooting their friends, neighbours and family. There were cavalry and artillery militia but most numerous were the infantry militia where a soldier was not required to serve overseas. Despite this ruling, the lure of adventure and ‘possible’ riches made many join up with the regular Line Regiments; indeed, roughly half the recruits for the Army came from the ranks of the Militia.

Norfolk’s Contribution:

Norfolk Militia (Edward_Russell, 1st Earl of Orford)
Admiral of the Fleet Edward Russell, 1st Earl of Orford.

In 1758 the Admiral of the Fleet, Edward Russell,  1st Earl of Orford put the “Act for the better regulating of the Militia” into effect and The Norfolk Militia was the first regiment to be formed under the Bill of 1757. It comprised of the 1st Battalion Western Regiment of the Norfolk Militia (West Norfolk Militia) under the command of Lord George Townshend and the 2nd Battalion Eastern Regiment of the Norfolk Militia (East Norfolk Militia) under the command of Sir Armine Wodehouse. Their Colonel in Chief was  the 1st Earl of Orford who set the total number of men to serve in the regiment at 960, with the city of Norwich providing 151. These men were detailed to exercise once a fortnight for three years.

The West Norfolk Militia:

Norfolk Militia ( Geo. Townsend)
George Townshend, 1st Marquess Townshend, first Colonel of the 1st Battalion Western Regiment of the Norfolk Militia (West Norfolk Militia).

In the book called ‘The Norfolk Assembly’ Ketton-Crèmer of Felbrigg Hall quotes Lady Townshend as saying ‘My Lord is at Dereham with his Militia playing soldiers’. He used Raynham Park to review his West Norfolk Militia.

Norfolk Militia (Raynham Park)2
View of Raynham Hall showing medieval building and stables on the left, the Hall in the distance and St Mary’s Church on the right. Photo: Copyright of Charles, Viscount Raynham, (Charles George Townshend).
Norfolk Militia (Raynham Park)
Raynham Park, Norfolk. Photo: Courtesy of Francis Frith
Norfolk Militia (Musician)
A musician of the West Norfolk Militia, and the only known image of a West Norfolk Militia uniform in the public domain By Unknown – Antique print., Public Domain, Photo: Wikipedia

West Norfolk Militia Snippets:

In 1850 the Reverend Benjamin Armstrong was made vicar of the considerable parish of Dereham in Norfolk. In his diary he mentions that the West Norfolk (Dereham Volunteers) held their first outdoor display in the Vicarage grounds in May. Families were invited and four tents which had been used in the Crimea in 1854/5 were erected for the benefit of the ladies. Two bands played at intervals and there were military movements, bugling, running, kneeling and firing.

In June 1859 a public meeting was held in the Corn Hall, Dereham, for the formation of a Dereham Rifle Volunteer Corps. The Reverend Armstrong made a short speech urging people to join. About thirty men did, the eldest an elderly fat banker of 70 years, and the youngest a seventeen-year-old.  They were kitted out in a grey uniform. The Corps met regularly to drill and exercise. The following June the Queen reviewed no less than 30,000 Volunteer Rifles in Hyde Park, London. This was to give a warning that an invasion would meet with strong resistance.

Norfolk Militia (Rev. Benjamin Armstrong)
The Reverend Benjamin Armstrong.

The Dereham contingent continued to work hard and helped to put on a Subscription Concert the following November. It was recorded that the hall was full and the Dereham Rifles’ fife and drum band was a great attraction. In September they attended a review of 2,000 volunteers at Holkham Hall, hosted by Lord Leicester, who dined the whole force and 500 private guests too.

About this time competition was starting between the Corps of Dereham and Wymondham and in April 1862 a Rifle Match was staged at Swanton, which Dereham lost. As the day was windy it was said it was chancy shooting anyway! There was a Grand Entertainment given to the volunteers at Letton Hall, where a vast crowd assembled. 150 volunteers sat down to a dinner under a tent and speeches were given. Social events were held to raise money for needy volunteers.

It was a red-letter day when the Dereham Volunteers marched with the Reverend Armstrong to the railway station to form a Guard of Honour for the Prince and Princess of Wales, and the Queen of Denmark who were en route to Costessey Hall.

Norfolk Militia (West Norfolk Button)
1st or West Norfolk Militia Victorian Officer’s silvered tunic buttons.

Thorpe Rail Disaster, 1874

Two serving members of the West Norfolk Militia, Sgt Major Frederick Cassell and Sgt Robert Ward, are recorded to have been killed in the Thorpe Rail Accident whilst returning from a fishing trip. Their bodies were recovered and they were buried with full military honours. Robert Ward had previously been part of the Coldstream Guards.

Norfolk Militia (Rail Accident 1874)

Both the two Norfolk Militias were recognised as being the first to offer to “march wherever they might be most serviceable to the public defence.” Consideration was also given by King George II “that every mark of his Royal Favour should be shown to this Corps” and that they “should be distinguished by the title of Militia Royal”.

Norfolk Militia (Wodehouse)
Sir Armine Wodehouse MP for Norfolk, Colonel of the 2nd Battalion Eastern Regiment of the Norfolk Militia (East Norfolk Militia), at a Review of his Regiment near Norwich,  4th June1759.

It was on the 4th June 1759 when the East Norfolk section of the Norfolk Militia, comprising of 1 Colonel, 1 Lt. Colonel, 1 Major, 11 Captains, 11 Lieutenants, 8 Ensigns, 1 Adjutant, 24 Sergeants, 24 drummers and 466 rank and file, was reviewed by the Earl of Orford on Magdalen Fairstead, just outside Norwich. The event was reported in the press at the time, with the conduct of the men being praised and a statement that the unit could now be ready to march given four days’ notice. Then on Wednesday 4 July 1759 both battalions did just that by marching from Norwich to Portsmouth barracks, to accept orders from Major General Holmes. They marched via Beccles, Ipswich, Colchester, Islington, and Petersfield and arrived at Portsmouth on Tuesday 24 July. During the march, they were reviewed by King George II at Kensington Palace. Then, due to the day-time heat, they again set off soon after midnight, when they were described as being in good spirits.

Norfolk Militia (East Norfolk Button)
2nd or East Norfolk Militia Victorian Officer’s silvered tunic button Scalloped rim, crowned title strap, castle over lion centrally. Approx 24 mm VGC Shank Firmin & Sons 153 Strand London.

By August of that year the two Militias were alternately guarding prisoners-of-war and undergoing training exercises. It was also in 1759, when “A Plan of Discipline Composed for the Use of the Militia of the County of Norfolk” was published by William Wyndham of Felbrigg & Lord George Townshend. This text, written for the use of officers in this English rural militia unit, went on to become one of the most important drill manuals employed during the American Revolution.

From 1759 onwards, The Norfolk Militia moved around the country; they were quartered in Cirencester on 5 July 1760, but moved back to guard prisoners in Norfolk in July. On 28 May 1761 King George awarded the two battalions of the Norfolk Militia a “Warrant for Colours”. In November the East Norfolk Militia was ordered to Fakenham, then to remain at Wells and Walsingham for the duration of the Fakenham Fair.

Ireland:

In September 1798 all of the officers and most of the rank and file volunteered for service in Ireland during the Rebellion. Eight hundred men of the West Norfolk Militia were serving in Ireland in 1815 and 1816, and aspects of this were dramatised in the writings of George Borrow‘s book Lavengro.

The Norfolk Militia’s Connection with Norman Cross:

Norfolk Militia (Norman_Cross_painting)
A painting of Norman Cross c1797. Photo: Wikipedia.

Norman Cross lies near Peterborough, Cambridgeshire but traditionally is in Huntingdonshire, it gave its name to a Hundred and lies near the junction of the A1 and A15 roads. It was the site of the world’s first purpose-built prisoner-of-war camp or “Depot” built during the Napoleonic Wars by the Navy. At the time, the Royal Navy Transport Board was responsible for the care of prisoners of war. When Sir Ralph Abercromby communicated in 1796 that he was transferring 4,000 prisoners from the West Indies, the Board began the search for a site for a new prison. The site at Norman Cross was chosen because it was on the Great North Road only 76 miles (122 km) from London and was deemed far enough from the coast that escaped prisoners could not flee back to France. The site had a good water supply and close to sufficient local sources of food to sustain many thousands of prisoners and the guards. Work commenced in December 1796 with much of the timber building prefabricated in London and assembled on site. 500 carpenters and labourers worked on the site for 3 months. The cost of construction was £34,581 11s 3d.

The Norfolk Militia became heavily involved in the transit of prisoners from Yarmouth to the Norman Cross camp, the operation of which included Lieutenant Thomas Borrow of the West Norfolk Militia, who was the father of author George Borrow. Thomas Borrow was quartered at Norman Cross from July 1811 to April 1813 and young George spent his ninth and tenth years in the barracks there.

In October of 1799, whilst escorting French prisoners of war from Yarmouth to Norman Cross, the East Norfolk Militia locked up their prisoners for the night and safe keeping in the Bell tower of St Nicholas Church in Dereham – apparently, this was a regular occurrence during such a duty. On this occasion however, an officer by the name of Jean De Narde, the 28-year old  son of a notary from St. Malo, managed to escape from the church. Finding that the Militia had set guards around the perimeter of the Church he climbed an oak hoping that his absence would pass unnoticed and that the party would leave without him, thus allowing him to make good his escape. Unfortunately for De Narde, the Militia, realising that they were missing a prisoner conducted a search of the locality and the Frenchman was spotted – thanks to him leaving his legs dangling from the tree. The Sergeant, who was told to get the Frenchman down, called on De Narde to surrender. Now, whether the prisoner did not understand English or that he did not even realise that he had been discovered, stayed where he was. Unfortunately, as events turned out, the Sergeant shot the Frenchman out of the tree, killing him instantly. The local population were apparently ashamed by this action and thought this deed to be one of unnecessary cruelty, according to the Parish Priest at the time, the Reverend Benjamin John Armstrong . Eventually a monument was raised to the unfortunate De Narde and the family in St Malo informed of his fate.

Norfolk Militia (Jean De Narde's Grave in Dereham Churchyard)
Jean De Narde’s Grave in the Graveyard of St Nicholas Church, Dereham. Photo: Dereham History.
The memorial reads…….
In memory of Jean De Narde,
Son of a Notary Public of St. Malo;
A French prisoner of war, who, having escaped from the Bell tower of this church, was pursued and shot by a soldier on duty, October 6th, 1799, aged 28 years.
The back of the memorial reads: –
This memorial of his untimely fate has been erected by the Vicar, and two friends who accompanied him on a visit to Paris, as a tribute of courtesy to a brave and generous nation, once our foes, but now our allies and brethren. October, Ainsi soit-it (So be it) 1857.

STORY 1

On the 11th June in 1804, the Royal Artillery, two troops of the 1st Dragoons, 24th Regiment of Foot, Colonel Patterson’s Battalion, the City of Norwich, Regiment of Volunteers (on permanent duty) and the Riffle Corps, had a sham fight at Bramerton; one party (as English) marched by Trowse, and the other (as French) by Thorpe to Postwick grove, and crossed the Yare on floating bridges, formed by wherries placed alongside each other and planked over. The troops were in motion at 6 am.

The representation of an action was on a very extensive scale. The English, of course, were victorious, and were regaled with several barrels of porter and marched back to Norwich. The vanquished returned to Postwick grove where their spirits were ‘recruited’ with brown stout. They then returned to the City about 4.30pm. The concourse of spectators in carriages, on horseback and on foot, was immense.

Norfolk Militia (1822)2

The Volunteer Infantry and Rifle Corps had been formed two years earlier at a public meeting held in the Guildhall, for the purpose of conforming to the regulations of the Acts for the Defence of the Realm.

(The Norfolk and Norwich Remembrancer, Matchett and Stevenson, 1822

Invasion Threat:

Militia units were fully assembled – or embodied – on a permanent footing during the Wars of the French Revolution (1793-1802) and the Napoleonic Wars (1803-15). During these periods, troops were stationed at strategic locations, especially along the south coast to allay the fear of French invasion. It was in 1805, after Britain had declared war on France on 18 May 1803, when Napoleon did, in fact, turn his attention to invading England and, in preparation, started to assemble an expeditionary force at Boulogne. With the British Isles threatened, the Norfolk Militia were ordered to join the Southern District (Sussex), which covered Kent east of the river Cray and Holwood Hill; Sussex; and Tilbury Fort in Essex. The General Officer Commanding (GOC) was General Sir David Dundas who directed that the East and West Norfolk Militia regiments be placed, along with the Nottinghamshire Regiment of Militia, into the Infantry Brigade of Major General Alexander Mackenzie Fraser whose headquarters were in Winchelsea. The 712 men of the West Norfolk Militia (under Lt. Col. George Nelthorpe) and 698 men of the East Norfolk Militia (under Lt. Col. George Berney Brograve Bt.) were barracked at Clifford Camp.

Norfolk Militia (East Norfolk Colours)
Ensign and colour sergeant with colours of the 9th (East Norfolk) Regiment. 1813 illustration. (Photo: copyright owner unknown – see Notice below.)

East Norfolk Militia Snippets:

Following declaration of Peace, the Norfolk Militia was disembodied at Great Yarmouth in 1814, and was not called out again until 1820. Then, in April 1853, 612 men of the West Norfolk Militia, under Col. the Earl of Orford, mustered in Norwich at the Swan Hotel. During this muster they were subjected to verbal attacks by members of the Peace Society and “Liberals”. On the same date, 571 enrolled in the East Norfolk Militia assembled at Great Yarmouth under Colonel the Hon. Berkeley Wodehouse. It was noted that:

“Their appearance was much more respectable than might have been expected, and many of those who were prepared to ridicule them acknowledged that they were a much better class than they expected”.

Again in 1853, an order for the provision of Militia barracks at Great Yarmouth was issued. The intention was to base all three regiments of the Norfolk Militia at Great Yarmouth, but on February 25 this order was rescinded, and it was agreed that:

“…..the present Committee be empowered to receive estimates and tenders for building barracks for one regiment of Militia at Norwich, and for one regiment of Militia and one regiment of artillery at Yarmouth, on such plans as they may think best suited for the purpose.”

This was followed on 16 May 1854 with the East Norfolk Militia being presented with new colours, and these were still being carried in 1898. These colours were presented at a public ceremony held on South Denes, Great Yarmouth, that was attended by 10,000 persons, including civic dignitaries. The day concluded with a ball held at the Town Hall, which had been decorated with the new colours, mirrors and stars formed of bayonets. In 1853 it was noted that the government intended to convert the Board of Ordnance store (an arsenal) at Yarmouth to create the Gorleston Barracks; the site was originally designed by James Wyatt and built in 1806 to supply Royal Navy ships anchored off Great Yarmouth during the Napoleonic Wars. This facility was converted into army barracks to accommodate the Prince of Wales Own Norfolk Artillery Militia in 1853. This regiment comprised of two field officers, 15 sergeants and 408 men of the East Norfolk Militia. The old Great Yarmouth barracks having been converted into an Admiralty hospital.

In 1856, the East Norfolk Militia, comprising of 1 Major, 13 officers, 3 sergeants and 415 men left Great Yarmouth by train, travelling to an encampment at Colchester. At Colchester railway station they were met by the band of the Royal Essex Rifles. On April 23 all the units at Colchester, including the East Norfolk Militia, were reviewed by Prince Albert, but by June 4 orders were issued for the East Norfolk Militia to return to Great Yarmouth for disembodiment. In the same month, the left wing of the West Norfolk Militia returned to Norwich from Fermoy, County Cork; with the right wing reaching the city on the 26th.

On 20 May 1861, the East Norfolk Militia were involved in a serious military riot at Yarmouth, against men of the Royal Artillery. It was reported in the Norfolk Chronicle that this riot included the use of belts and stones, and that 200 Artillerymen, armed with swords and knives issued from the arsenal, had to be prevented from joining the fight by “persuasion and threats”. The report also said that officers from both corps were involved in ending the riot, and that guards had to be placed on the bridge to keep the Artillery out of Yarmouth and the Militia from crossing into Southtown.

The Norfolk Artillery Militia were granted barracks in All Saints Green, Norwich from around 1860, these consisting of Ivory House, a parade ground and stables. These barracks remained in use until the late 1920s.

Norfolk Militia (3rd Volunteer Battalion 1861)
Oil on canvas by Claude Lorraine Nursey (1820-1873), 1864. Copyright National Army Museum.
Administrative battalions were formed mainly in rural areas, to provide Staff and headquarters facilities for widely scattered Volunteer units. This particular unit was formed in 1861, and in 1883 became the 3rd Volunteer Battalion, the Norfolk Regiment.
The painting depicts the battalion encamped at Gunton Park in Norfolk, the commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Lord Suffield’s family seat.
Norfolk Militia (Gunton Park)
Gunton Park, Norfolk. (Photo: copyright owner unknown – see Notice below.)

The Prince of Wales became Honorary Colonel of the Artillery Militia in 1871, and the Great Yarmouth Assembly Rooms became frequently used as the Officer’s Mess, whilst artillery practice was conducted on South Denes. In 1883 Lt. Colonel Lord Suffield and Major Edward Southwold Trafford purchased the building on behalf of the Artillery Militia, and the building remained under the Militia’s ownership until 1918 after which it became a Masonic Lodge.

Norfolk Militia (P of W reviewing troops)2
Period print of the Prince of Wales reviewing the Norfolk Artillery Militia at Great Yarmouth, June 1872. (Photo: copyright owner unknown – see Notice below.)

In 1880 the unit was renamed the 1st Norfolk Artillery Volunteers, then 2nd Brigade Eastern District Royal Artillery (Prince of Wales’ Own Norfolk Militia Artillery) in 1882 and, in 1902, becoming the 1st Norfolk Royal Garrison Artillery (Volunteers).

In 1901, during the Second Anglo-Boer War, five officers and 134 Other Ranks from the Prince of Wales’s Own Norfolk Royal Garrison Artillery (Militia) were sent to Cape Town, from which they were split up for garrison duty on armoured trains Wasp, Challenger, Bulldog and Blackhat, among other duties including Military Intelligence and escort duties for the Royal Engineers. The Special Service Company of the Militia was commanded by Colonel Thomas Coke, 3rd Earl of Leicester, who had served in the Scots Guards until 1892.

Uniform:

The uniform of the East Norfolk Militia was scarlet turned up with black. An early sketch by Lord Townshend, published in “A Plan of Discipline Composed for the Use of the Militia of the County of Norfolk” in 1759, shows a Private wearing a simple uniform of cocked hat, jacket, breeches and shoes worn without gaiters. A cross belt and waist belt, with bayonet, are worn over the single-breasted jacket, with the latter secured by a single button close to the collar, two at the chest and three at the waist.

Long boots were discontinued, except for mounted officers, on 12 April 1814. On 22 June 1820 epaulettes, buttons and ornaments of dress were changed from gold to silver, although serving officers were permitted to retain their old style of uniform unless called on for actual service. In January 1831 the old uniform was finally discontinued, with orders that all uniforms must meet the latest King’s Regulations and include black velvet and silver epaulettes.

Gold lace was restored to the East Norfolk Militia on 5 June 1882, at the same time as the badge of the then 4th Battalion Norfolk Regiment was changed from the castle and lion to the figure of Britannia.

STORY 2

On the 7th October 1859, as part of the great Volunteer Movement that started in Norwich in that year, the first muster of the Norwich Rifle Corps Club with 22 men present. Three companies were formed, the Mayor’s, the Sheriff’s and Mr Gurney’s. Many in the Quaker community were hesitant to join but stipulated that ‘on no account could they be called from Norwich except in the actual case of invasion or rebellion.’

Norfolk Militia (1822)1
(Photo: copyright owner unknown – see Notice below.)

The uniform consisted of a ‘grey cloth tunic with black mohair braid and buttons down the centra, with a low, upright collar…….this was surmounted by a shako of hair-cloth of the same colour, with a plume like a shaving brush, and……a black patent leather waist belt with pouch bags’ Officers carried a sword in a steel scabbard with brown whistle and chain. The Government later provided the Corps with long Enfield rifles, with which to practice on Mousehold Heath. By the there were 1,200 volunteers who were inspected by the Lord Lieutenant of the County; standing in long lines of grey, the ‘rank and file from various social grades from bank clerks down to those of weekly wage-earners.’

(Mottram, R. H., Portrait of an Unknown Victorian, Robert Hale & Co., 1936.)

TO BE CONTINUED

Sources:
http://www.derehamhistory.com/norfolk-militia.html
http://www.derehamhistory.com/jean-de-narde—1799.html
https://eastnorfolkmilitia.webs.com/themilitia.htm
http://www.wikiwand.com/en/Norfolk_Militia
https://wikivisually.com/wiki/Militia_(Great_Britain)
https://www.british-history.ac.uk/
https://www.nam.ac.uk/explore/civilian-soldiers
http://www.wikiwand.com/en/Gorleston_Barracks
ttps://joemasonspage.wordpress.com/2017/08/07/the-revd-benjamin-armstrong/
Feature Photograph: The Genealogist

COPYRIGHT NOTICE2

 

Brancaster 1833 – A Sad Tale!

From amongst all the major gales that have imposed themselves on to Norfolk over the years, the 1st September gale of 1833 must rank as the worst. That storm ranged wide over the North Sea and as far south as the English Channel when it wrecked hundreds of ships in the North Sea alone. Out of this undefined figure, over 60 ships were driven on to the County’s coastline alone. Areas inland weren’t safe either; the spires of St Margaret’s and St Nicholas Churches in Kings Lynn were blown down and forty wagon-loads of wreckage were removed from the beaches of Hunstanton and Snettisham. On the following Sunday, 8th September Bell’s ‘Life in London’ looked back at, what was referred to as ‘the great gale’, and recalled:

“……the loss of life and property in all parts of the country presents a dreadful catalogue of calamities, which must fill the minds of our readers with horror………On Monday, the public mind was shocked by the description of the disaster of the most appalling description, and everyday since has produced some new account equally heart-rending”

Brancaster (Amphitrite 1833)

It was from the accounts written at the time that the public learned of dead bodies floating ashore throughout the storm ” from one end of the Norfolk coast to the other”. Cromer, which sits at the top right-hand edge of Norfolk, collected eighty-four bodies from its beach over two days. They were buried in the churchyard of St Peter and St Paul’s Church. East Anglian reports following the storm emphasised the damage to homes, fields and orchards. According to the Cambridge Chronicle, the rain and tide-swollen Ouze River breached its banks and:

“……such was the immense body and impetuosity of the water, that in a few hours, upwards of 1,500 acres of land were laid under water……many acres of standing corn are irretrievably lost and many head of cattle drowned……The damage sustained by the lamentable event has not yet been ascertained, but it is much to be feared that it is to a considerable extent, nor is there any prospect that the water can be got off before the next spring”

Similar accounts from the coast naturally focused on the destruction of ships,crew lives lost and infrastructure damaged. The Times, no less, referred to the coast around Lynn as ‘strewn with vessels, parts of vessels, boats and goods’ Also, in a report unusual for its concern for human life lost, referred to:

” The brig Margaret, Captain Osire……went down on Saturday afternoon, near Whiting Sands and all hands perished. By this awful circumstance there are four women left without husbands, and 22 fatherless children. Better luck attended the crew of the Brig ‘Waterloo’, like ‘Margaret’ carrying a load of coal. After Waterloo went down, the crew ascended the rigging at eight o’clock on Sunday night, and remained lashed in that perilous situation, the sea breaking over them mountains high till one o’clock the next day when they were taken off by fishermen, several of whom manned their boats and succeeded in rescuing eight individuals.”

Brancaster (Earl of Wemyss 1833)
An early 19th century Packet Ship similar to the Earl of Wemyss. The strip of white paint on the hull was to distinguish ships of the old Shipping Company from those of other Traders. Photo: Public Domain.

But, probably. the most tragic tale was that of the Earl of Wemyss, Leith’s Old Shipping Company’s Packet Ship. In common with the Amphitrite, its tragedy became indelibly imprinted in the public’s minds, in part because it revealed men’s failure to behave in an honourable way. The crew and male passengers on board the ,Earl of Wemyss, en route from London to Leith in Scotland, survived the gale off Brancaster, Norfolk, but that the 6 women, one man and 4 children on board drowned. This news was met with the public’s disbelief and anger.

The Amphitrite, PW8062
The Amphitrite, a 200 tonne Prison Ship which sank off Boulogne-Sur-Mer during the same gale as hit Brancaster, Norfolk on 1st September, 1833. One hundred and eight female convists and twelve children on board the Prison Ship were lost.

The ships owned by the ‘Old Shipping Company’ of Leith were called ‘White Siders’ to distinguish them from the ships of other trading lines which had a different strip of colour painted on their hulls;  the ‘Old Shipping Company’ ships had a white strip. All these companies carried passengers, freight and hauled convicts sentenced to transportation or the home-based hulks from Edinburgh to London, thirty at a time. It was on the 29th August 1833 that the Earl of Weymss (pronounced ‘weemz’) set out from London on a return journey to Scotland. In command was a Captain Henry Nesbit; not the same Captain Nesbit who, almost thirty years earlier had been master of the Old Shipping Company’s smack Queen Charlotte when she was attacked by a French privateer. The successful defence of the Charlotte earned Nesbit a £105 reward from the owners. In 1833 Captain Nesbit of the Earl of Wemyss did not appear to be like the hero of 1804!

Ahead of Captain Nesbit was a 400-mile. plus, passage that could take as little as a few days or as much as 2 weeks. It was stated later, at an inquiry at the Hare Arms in Docking  into the ship’s disaster, that the Earl of Wemyss had carried 19 passengers on board, 8 men and 11 women and children, but the Captain’s count did not include some passengers not travelling business class in the salons, but travelling economy in steerage. A substantial amount of cargo was also on board, including bales of hops from Kent. After the wreck, men worked for hours to unload the ship’s hold of the then sodden bales and goods packed inside – apparently, none of it insured.

It was said that late in the afternoon of the Saturday, “a northeaster blew up in the North Sea and continued to freshen until it became a hurricane” However, this was later contradicted by others who were on board who said that the gale had been blowing since 6.00 am that morning, when the ship was off the Spurn Light. By midday on that Saturday the Earl of Wemyss was out of control on seas – “like mountains of snow”, all her canvas was shredded and her stern boat gone. By the Saturday night the ship had lost both anchors in a failed attempt to wait out the storm and found itself aground off Brancaster, Norfolk. An effort early morning of the Sunday to launch another boat failed and soon afterwards the Earl of Wemyss flooded  with water from storm-driven seas breaking over the un protected skylights and breaking through the glass, drowning everyone in the women’s cabin below. Those still living rushed out on to the open deck and stated later at a Magistrate’s Inquiry:

” where we found the captain, crew, and steerage passengers secured to the rigging and the winch, We lashed ourselves in the same manner and continued there with the sea breaking over us for about four hours.”

Two weeks later when the Inquiry, convened by the Home Office, took place at the Hare’s Arms in Docking, its brief was to determine ” whether there had been any loss of life by culpable negligence, or loss of property by dishonesty.” Captain Nesbit’s incompetence was made manifest through him missing at least two opportunities to save his passengers. One was a chance to wade ashore early on the Sunday morning when a lull at low water passed, when he misread a nautical almanac and also confused the flow of the tide with its ebb. He then offered ‘fatal advice’ that sent his female passengers and children into their berths. He failed to protect his ship’s four skylights and their chutes through the main deck and into the space below, thus setting up the circumstances for the drownings of the women and children. They were:  Mrs. Hamilton, her son, and a lady ; Mrs. Pyne, her daughter, and child ; Mrs. Carmack ; Miss Susanna Roche and a child—all cabin passengers; total, 9. Mrs. Rymer and child, steerage.

The Reverend Holloway of Brancaster testified that Captain Nesbit told him that the ladies were already dead in their cabin and there was no point in rescuing them as they had been there for over four hours. When the bodies were recovered, they were taken to the Church. The Reverend Holloway believed that if the skylights had been battened down the ladies would have been saved – and if they had been rescued earlier their belongings may also have been saved. Statements referring to the dead said that “whilst their bodies were yet warm” they had been stripped of their valuables by Joseph Newman Reeve, son-in-law of the Brancaster Lord of the Manor. Reeve claimed that he had asked people to help get the bodies out of the ship and took the jewellery to “protect them from ‘revolting indignities’ – such as having their fingers cut off to get the rings off them” Reeve claimed that he had kept everything safely; although others claimed he had refused to give the things back and said that they belonged to the Lord of the Manor, who was entitled to everything cast up on the shore. Reeve admitted that he had unwisely opened one bag, belonging the Mrs Pyne, without witnesses, but said that others gave him jewellery to look after.

Brancaster (Sir James Scallett)
Sir James Scarlett, who represented Joseph Newman Reeve.

Reeve was tried in March 1834 at the Norwich assizes before a Judge Vaughan, but escaped conviction on two charges of felony thanks to being represented in court by Sir James Scarlett, a local MP and a famously competent lawyer. He might also have been helped by the still general belief in England, that coastal residents were “the lawful heirs of all drowned persons” and so entitled to the property providence had cast at their feet. A further trial at the Norwich summer assizes in the July of 1834, of the ship’s steward, cook and a local farmer who had been in charge of the wreck, included some very damaging evidence about people who had offered to lie to protect Reeve – but this evidence was dismissed and the jury of the second trial also gave a ‘not guilty’ verdict. Captain Nesbit was dismissed from his role and was ejected by his Guild and all that is left of the wreck of the Earl of Wemyss is a weathered gravestone inscription in the churchyard of St Mary’s Church, Brancaster:

Brancaster (St Mary's Church)
St Mary’s Church, Brancaster, Norfolk.

Sacred to the memory of Susanna Roche, aged
32 years and also to her nephew, Alexander David
Roche, aged 4 years who were unfortunately
drowned with many others in the cabin of the
Earl of Wemyss, Leith Packet which was
stranded on this coast during the dreadful gale
on September 1st 1833 on its passage from London.
Which melancholy affair has been doubly afflicting
for the relatives of the deceased from the fact that no
attempt was ever made to rescue them from their
situation, and in continuation of such inhuman
conduct their persons were stripped of every
valuable and their property plundered.

The tale of the Leith Packet ship Earl of Wemyss combined all the elements to interest readers: evidence of incompetence at sea, the death of innocents and a suspicion of crimes inflicted on the dead. The reason for such persistent coverage by the press was that all the dead came from the same propertied class as did the readers of The Times and The Scotsman. On May 6th, 1834 the rebuilt Earl of Wemyss went back into service, carrying passengers and cargo from Scotland to London, under the command of a Captain Brown. Eventually the ship was replaced in the packet service by steam. The Wemyss, now twenty-five years old, could still be seen at sea 15 years later sailing between Aberdeen and the Baltic.

THE END

Sources:

The Norfolk Almanac of Disasters, Brook, P.,Breedon Books Publishing, 2007
http://archive.spectator.co.uk/article/14th-september-1833/8/the-late-gale
http://archive.spectator.co.uk/article/7th-september-1833/6/the-gale
http://archive.spectator.co.uk/article/12th-october-1833/6/inquiry-regarding-the-loss-of-the-earl-of-wemyss
https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=the+gale+of+1833&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=1DlLpcoPzGuY-M%253A%252CIzp_iCOaaUAXaM%252C_&usg=AFrqEzcCurqCrmq09dVA4L92_moh8o0RLw&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjrqZXEkpjdAhXPFsAKHUecBt8Q9QEwBHoECAEQBg#imgrc=zeY4nygttHxoKM:&spf=1535748056035
Photos: Google Images and Wikipedia.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

Horsford’s Little Hero.

In the graveyard of All Saints Church in Horsford, Norfolk lies a very young person of mystery who clearly had received a heroes burial from those who thought highly of him. One may well ask what his qualities might have been in life and what had he done to deserve such a place in the memories of others. His gravestone, name and inscription raises so many questions but few answers. In this day and age one can only speculate!

All we have is the inscription on his headstone. It tells us clearly that his name was John Pirsins, he was 13 years old and he had died from wounds received at the Battle of Camperdown which took place on 11th October 1797. John Pirsins had survived, and presumably suffered, for five weeks before giving in to the inevitable. His gravestone states the following:

All Saints Church, Horsford 093
Sacred to the memory of John Pirsins aged 13 years who died the 18th Day of November 1797 in consequence of the wounds he received on board His Majesty’s Ship Triumph the 11th of October in the action fought between the British and Bativian fleets off Camperdown. This stone is erected by his messmates as a tribute due to his early valour.

Where does one start in trying to identify this young lad and his circumstances. For a start, take his name – John Pirsins. In the 18th century, one in four seamen were apparently named ‘John’, this may have been their baptismal name or the one the authorities or mates would bestow in the absence of a known name. Then there is the surname which is a rare, so rare that one may well construe that it came about in error. How come is the obvious question? Well – John, let’s assume this to be correct, appears to have been a rural lad from the heart of the Norfolk countryside and he left home to join the British Navy. Literacy, at the time, was not a strong point in either area of occupation, so when it came to registering one’s name, the presence of illiteracy, local dialects and unclear pronunciation came into play: “Name”. “John Parsons (Pirsins) Sir” Who knows, but the surname stuck!

Did John Pirsins really come from the lower classes, or did he have connections with a higher status from where favours were often bestowed on family members and friends? Take the the quality of the gravestone as another faint clue. It is clear that the stone, and the skill required to inscribe it, would not have come cheap. Whilst it is commendable that more than a few of his mess-mates had, apparently, rallied round to find the money to erect such a monument in his honour, one wonders if they, in turn, were helped by a sponsor? Did this someone, as a possible favour to his parents, also have taken John on board ship as, maybe, an officer’s servant with intentions for him to be trained as an able seaman if not midshipman? – just like Horatio Nelson some 25 years earlier. But then, if all this was true then would not his surname and connections be better known today? Crucially, does any of this fit? Did John Pirsins enlist on his own volition because he wanted an adventure? Where did he join his first ship and at what level was he recruited? Two options stand out – did he become a Cabin Boy and/or a Powder Monkey?

Horsford Hero (Cabin Boy)1
18th Century Cabin Boy undertaking one of his many duties aboard ship.

As Cabin Boy, he just about fitted the criteria with regard to his age. In this role he would have been expected to undertake a variety of day-to-day duties; these would have included waiting on the officers and passengers of a ship and especially running errands for the captain. He would also have been expected to help the cook in the ship’s galley and carry buckets of food to the forecastle where the ordinary seamen ate. Then there was running from one end of the ship to the other carrying messages and becoming familiar with the sails, lines and ropes and the use of each in all sorts of weather – and that was not all. He would have had to be able to scramble up the rigging into the yards whenever the sails had to be trimmed and occasionally stand watch, like other crewmen, or act as helmsman in good weather and holding the wheel to keep the ship steady on her course. Then, in times of battle, he may well have been expected to undertake the role of ‘Powder Monkey’.

As a powder monkey, or powder boy, John Pirsins would not have held any official naval rank but would have been employed to man naval artillery guns as a member of a warship’s crew. His chief role would be to ferry gunpowder from the powder magazine in the ship’s hold to the artillery pieces, either in bulk or as cartridges; this practice was designed to minimise the risk of fires and explosions. One can assume that he would have been selected for the job for his both his speed and height. If so, then John Pirsins was a short individual, in order for him to move more easily in the limited space between decks. As a powder monkey John would have had the comfort of knowing that being hidden behind the ship’s gunwale, kept him from being shot at by enemy ships’ sharp shooters. However, he would have been as vulnerable as the rest of the crew in situations where the ship was hit by heavy cannon fire. Is that what happen when he was mortally wounded?

Horsford Hero (Powder Monkey)1

If John Pirsins had, indeed, been a powder monkey then it is more than likely that he had come from the poor working classes. The Marine Society that encouraged youths to join the British Royal Navy did so by providing clothes, bedding, and a rudimentary education once they had enlisted. In the mid-1790’s it is estimated that the Society was sending five or six hundred boys a year to the fleet, although not all of these boys became powder monkeys. Of the boys who were recruited; most had no other option than to join the navy as their parents could not afford to raise them. However a significant number had familial ties to the sea by having cousins, fathers, and even grandfathers who were, or had been, sailors. These role models made youngsters want to continue family traditions and exploit their sense of adventure. So, does any of the foregoing detail fit with our John Pirsins? As things are, we know much more about the Battle of Camperdown of 1797 and HMS Triumph, on which John Pirsins enlisted and became a hero.

HMS Triumph:

HMS Triumph was a Large Type, 74 gun, third rate ship of the line, built at the Royal Dockyard at Woolwich. She, together with her sister-ship HMS Valiant were the prototypes, re-designed from the ground up for the Royal Navy. Their descendants would become by far the most numerous type of ship in the Royal Navy and would form the backbone of the Royal Navy’s battle-fleets until well into the 19th Century. But, what was significant about these two ships was not the long list of significant naval battles they fought in, or that they were commanded by any particularly famous or infamous naval officers, but the political machinations which led to their being ordered, designed and built.

 

During the Second Hundred Years War, and specifically in the 1730’s, the French began to introduce a new type of ship of the line, one carrying 74 guns on two gun decks. The British soon found that these new French ships were bigger, faster, more manoeuvrable and more heavily armed than their own. Something had to be done, but the British, were struggling with their own naval departmental problems which were rather more political than tactical or technological. Two departments existed with different aims and responsibilities which were the cause of much procrastination, delays and poor designs which, for several years, failed to produce anything that matched up to those of the French.

Horsford Hero (HMS Invincible)1
The former French 74-gun ship L’Invincible. After capture it was renamed HMS Invincible.

Then, on 14th May 1747 at the First Battle of Cape Finisterre, the British captured one of the finest of the French 74-gun ships, L’Invincible. On being taken into British service, L’Invincible was found to be capable of up to 16 knots in ideal sailing conditions; a good three knots faster than the best of her British counterparts. It was also found that in ideal sailing conditions, she could open her lower gun-ports, well clear of the water. As a direct result, the Admiralty began to pressure the Navy Board to do something about it, ideally, to produce a British 74-gun ship along the lines of the French ones. But habits die hard and it was not until the old guard in the Navy Board had either died or had been pensioned off that the situation began to improve. That did not begin until the mid-1750’s when more enlightened men were employed, led by a Thomas Slade. However, even under new management, nothing would be achieved until the Navy Board gave in to the Admiralty’s continuing pressure for two new ships which, essentially, had to be direct copies of L’Invincible but adapted for British use. The first , HMS Valiant was ordered from the Royal Dockyard at Chatham and launched on 10th August 1759. On the other hand, HMS Triumph was ordered from the Royal Dockyard at Woolwich where, despite its keel section being laid on 21st May 1757 was not launched into the great River Thames until Saturday 3rd March 1764 – long before our John Pirsins was even born.

Horsford Hero (HMS Triumph)4

On completion, HMS Triumph was an enormous ship for what she was. Very nearly as big as a first rate ship, HMS Triumph was 171ft 3in long on her upper gundeck and 138ft 8in long in her keel. She was 49ft 9in wide across her beams and her hold (between the orlop deck and the bottom of the ship) was 21ft 3in deep. Fully loaded, HMS Triumph was a ship of 1,825 tons. She was armed with twenty-eight 32-pounder long guns on her lower gun deck, thirty 24-pounder long guns on her upper gun deck, fourteen 9-pounder long guns on her quarterdeck and two 9-pounder long guns on her forecastle. She was manned by a crew of around 650 officers, men, boys and Royal Marines.

HMS Triumph had taken almost seven years to be built as opposed to the three years or so which the construction of a ship like her would be expected to take. This meant that by the time HMS Triumph was completed, the war for which she had been built was over and the Royal Navy rushed to pay off the great first and second rate ships of the line. It would fall to ships like HMS Triumph to provide the heavy firepower for the peacetime navy until May 1766 when the ship was commissioned into the Channel Fleet only to find that by the 11th December of the same year she was paid off and went into the ‘Ordinary’ at Chatham for the next five years.

Horsford Hero (Suckling)1
Captain Suckling

Then in January 1771, HMS Triumph was recommissioned under Captain Hugh Pigot as part of Britains response to the Falklands Crisis of 1770 and went into the Royal Dockyard to be fitted for sea. Captain Pigot left the ship just three months later, having made sure that her Midshipmen’s berth was fully occupied and the ship was fully manned. This meant that when Captain Suckling took command of the ship, there were no vacancies for Midshipmen. In turn, this meant that his young nephew was forced to take up a position as his cabin servant with a nominal rank of Able Seaman. His young nephew had briefly served in Suckling’s previous command, HMS Raisonnable, as a midshipman because Suckling had been able to man that ship from scratch. The young boy, who was aged just 12 when he joined his uncle aboard HMS Triumph, was Horatio Nelson.

Horsford Hero (Midshipman Nelson)1

For clarification, it should be explained that Nelson’s role on HMS Triumph would have been as a ‘Midshipman in Ordinary’; for although the ship had her quota of Midshipmen aboard, and there was no room for the young Horatio aboard in an official role, the captain was entitled to have up to a dozen servants. For that reason, they often took boys of friends, family and anyone else they owed a favour to or were doing a favour for, aboard as Midshipmen-in-Ordinary.

The boys in this role were on the ships books as Captains` Servants, rated and paid as Able Seamen, but wore the uniform and did the job of a Midshipman proper, that is to assist a Lieutenant in his day-to-day duties. They also lived in the Midshipmen’s quarters, which was in the cockpit, located on the ships Orlop level. They would have continued in this role for two years until they gained two years sea service at which point the Admiralty would have appointed them as Midshipmen proper, enabling them to transfer (or be transferred) between ships in order to gain experience and to further their careers.

On 7th May 1773, Captain Suckling managed to find a vacancy for his nephew, Nelson, as Midshipman in the bomb-vessel HMS Carcass but this came to an end in October 1773, when the vessel was paid off at Sheerness and went into the Ordinary. Nelson returned to Portsmouth and to HMS Triumph, once more to take up the only position available to him, as the Captain’s Servant with a nominal rank of Able Seaman. This, however, was for a very short time because his uncle had found a vacancy for him as Midshipman proper aboard the 24-gun sixth rate post-ship HMS Seahorse. Nelson was never to return to HMS Triumph.

Over the next 20 years, or so, HMS Triumph was involved in many skirmishes and more than a few refits to maintain its battle readiness. In between, it undertook policing and peace keeping roles with reduced crew levels. Then in January1792, she was decommissioned and went into the Royal Dockyard at Portsmouth for a ‘Great Repair’, which amounted to an almost complete rebuild. The work was completed in January 1795 and had cost £46,499, more than it had cost to build the ship in the first place. By now, HMS Triumph’s upper gun deck of 24-pounder long guns had been replaced with smaller 18-pounder long guns, while the rest of her armament remained as built. In this, HMS Triumph was unusual in that she was never fitted with carronades. HMS Triumph was recommissioned and joined the Channel Fleet.

The Battle of Camperdown:

Horsford Hero (Admiral Duncan)1
Admiral Sir Adam Duncan

The beginning of May of 1797 saw HMS Triumph lying at the Nore, as part of the North Sea Fleet under Admiral Sir Adam Duncan. By the 12th of the month it became caught up in the Great Mutiny which had spread from Spithead. Whilst Spithead, along with Plymouth, ended peacefully on the 15th, that of Yarmouth was put down forcibly with that of the Nore proving irritable to the authorities. Having started on 12th May in the 90 gun 2nd rate ship HMS Sandwich at 9:30am, it quickly spread to the other ships in the anchorage including HMS Triumph.

Horsford Hero (Essington)1
Captain of HMS Triumph, William Essington

It was at this time that Captain Sir Erasmus Gower was replaced in command of HMS Triumph by Captain William Essington. In the meantime, while the mutiny at the Nore was continuing, the Dutch fleet was making preparations to break out and join the French fleet at Brest. Admiral Duncan was ordered to immediately blockade them and ordered his ships to set sail for the coast of Holland. All but two of his ships disobeyed the order and joined the mutiny.  Nevertheless, Duncan set to his task with the handful of ships available to him and by a mixture of subterfuge and luck, kept the Dutch bottled up in Texel. However, while Duncan was at sea, the mutiny at the Nore fell apart and he was joined by more ships, including HMS Triumph. In October 1797, news reached the Admiralty that the Dutch had called off their plans to break out and the fleet was recalled to Yarmouth to refit and resupply; this included HMS Triumph.

Horsford Hero (De Winter)1

On 8th October however, the Dutch fleet under Admiral de Winter did indeed break out. They were followed by ships Duncan had left behind to watch them, these included the hired armed cutter Black Joke. When the Dutch fleet, consisting of four 74-gun ships, seven 64-gun ships, four 50-gun ships and four frigates was seen putting to sea, it was the Black Joke (Other accounts say it was the hired cutter Active.) that was dispatched to Yarmouth to summon Admiral Duncan and the fleet. When the Black Joke was seen off Yarmouth in the early morning of 9th October flying the signal, all hell broke loose in Yarmouth as ships prepared to put to sea immediately – John Pirsins must have certainly been in the thick of thing! By noon, Admiral Duncan’s fleet was at sea and at 7am on 11th October, Duncan’s fleet sighted Captain Trollope’s squadron who were flying a signal ‘Enemy in Sight to Leeward’. At 08.30, the Dutch fleet was sighted.

Because of the widely differing sailing qualities of the British ships, Duncan’s force was in a very loose order when the enemy was sighted. In order for his ships to take their allotted stations, Duncan’s first signal was for his vanguard, or leading ships, to shorten sail. This was followed, at about 11:10, by signals ordering each ship to engage their opposite number on the enemy’s line of battle and then for the British vanguard to attack the rear of the enemy fleet. De Winter the Dutch commander, for his part and on sighting the British, ordered his ships to go about and head closer to the shore, where his smaller, flatter bottomed ships would have the advantage in shallower waters than their larger round-bilged British opponents. Seeing the Dutch heading into shallower waters where he knew they would have the advantage, Duncan gave up trying to get his fleet into their proper order and instead issued signals to the effect that his fleet was to form into two rough divisions and sail towards the enemy line as best they could and engage the enemy in close action. The fleet formed into two uneven divisions with Duncan leading the Starboard division in his flagship HMS Venerable and his Second-in-Command, Vice-Admiral Sir Richard Onslow leading the other division in his flagship, HMS Monarch.

Horsford Hero (Fleets)1
Relative positions of the fleets at the start of the Battle of Camperdown, 11th October 1797.

HMS Triumph was part of Duncan’s Starboard Division, second in line behind the flagship. Because of the lack of time, the British ships were all jockeying for position to get into the thickest part of the action, which soon became intense. At one point in the battle, Captain Essington could see that both HMS Ardent and HMS Venerable were surrounded and immediately took HMS Triumph into the thick of things by engaging the Dutch ship Wassenaer with everything it had. Wassenaer eventually surrendered to HMS Triumph which then moved on to directly support the damaged HMS Ardent in her action against the Dutch flagship, Vrijheid. The Vrijheid was eventually forced to surrender by HMS Director after having been dismasted and left helpless, crippled and alone. The British had won a spectacular victory. They had defeated a Dutch fleet within sight of their own coastline. In the Battle of Camperdown, HMS Triumph had suffered casualties of 12 men dead with 55, including Captain Essington and John Pirsins, being wounded. She had suffered damage to her hull and masts and had had ten of her heavy 32-pounder guns knocked off their carriages.

By fast clipper, the news of this victory spread fast with the nation already celebrating by the time the ships returned to Great Yarmouth. The grateful nation breathed a sigh of relief that their ‘rebellious’ navy had, once again, restored its authority on the high seas, along with the strong and blatant patriotism, unashamedly renewed among the British people. The dead were buried and those of the wounded that could not function normally were cared for in the town. John Pirsins was amongst them, suffering from extensive injuries incurred in the heat of battle. Only his closest mates would have witnessed the circumstances of his heroism; it would have been they who visited him as he lay in the hospital in Great Yarmouth; and it would have been they who hoped he would recover. As it turned out, John Pirsins did not, but it was these same mates  who dipped into their pockets and paid for his headstone back at his home village of Horsford and its All Saints Church.

All Saints Church, Horsford 032
All Saints Church, Horsford, Norfolk. John Pirsins grave is to the left of the right-hand ‘green’ door. Picture: Haydn Brown

 

THE END

Sources:

http://leewright67.wixsite.com/horsfordlifemagazine/contact
http://www.kenthistoryforum.co.uk/index.php?topic=18402.0
https://www.cnrs-scrn.org/northern_mariner/vol14/tnm_14_4_11-24.pdf

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