Mrs Shipley Ellis and The Pantiles

In my previous blogpost I looked at the life and legacy of Edith Ball. The daughter of Canon Ball, she had followed his desire to provide care and support for the poor by creating The Haven, a scheme that had been applauded by none other than Octavia Hill! I thought I had discovered another building that she had helped to create, but it was part of the Co-op depot. But in my research I discovered that Edith wasn't the only person inspired by Canon Ball.  A new social housing project began in 1927 spearheaded by Mrs Shipley Ellis and I was curious as to who she was and what her link to Edith was, so I started to research her and came across a fascinating life story with some impressive legacies.

Hilda Anne Bristow was born in Fletton on 7 September 1873. She had been born into a wealthy family and lived in the manor house in Fletton in her early childhood years, the youngest of twelve children. Her father James was an auctioneer at the time of the 1881 census.

Map of Fletton Manor House from OS 25 Inch England and Wales Map via National Library of Scotland, www.maps.nls.uk

The 1891 census is the most illuminating and gives the fullest picture of Hilda’s childhood. By then Hilda was 17 and her mother Jane (née Lambert) had sadly passed away; she had died five years earlier when Hilda was only 12. Hilda was living at home with her sisters Edith and Ethel, as well as her father James and a couple of servants. They also had a visitor, a 16-year-old girl named Jenny (her surname is illegible), who was a scholar from Zwickau in Germany. My interest was instantly piqued and I immediately made a connection to Laurel Court School – was Hilda a pupil? I checked my database of the school pupils and confirmed that older sister Edith had been living at Laurel Court in the 1881 census. It looked incredibly likely that Hilda was home from school for the holidays and had invited her friend Jenny to join her.

By this point Hilda's father had founded a brickyard at Fletton and they were very well off. The only place fitting for the upwardly wealthy family was Fletton Towers, which is where they were captured in the 1891 census. The family did not live there for a particularly long time, her father and a few sisters having moved away together by the 1901 census. Hilda, however, stayed in the city along with several other siblings who had married, including Edith. In a beautiful snapshot of the Bristow sisters' lives, there was a description of the outfits they wore at Edith’s marriage to Thomas Corby Wilson in February 1894. Edith’s wedding dress was ‘a rich ivory moire silk dress’ and Hilda, along with her sisters Ethel and Minnie wore ‘heliotrope Bengaline silk dresses, trimmed with cream lace. They also wore black velvet picture hats.’ Ignoring the fact they would have been frozen in such thin material, they would have looked quite the picture in their silk dresses and large hats, and would have brought a touch of glamour to wintry Fletton. I include this fact to labour the point that these were a wealthy, glamourous family. It is also very unusual to find a description of clothing worn by the subject of such posts, so it adds an extra layer of detail to our understanding of Hilda and her family. Perhaps it was also that silk dress and black velvet hat that drew the eye of Hilda’s future husband…

1891 Census via Ancestry

Hilda married John Shipley Ellis (of Ellis and Everard) at the same church in 1896, aged 22. They went on to have three children: Margery, Jane, and Francis John.[i] In the 1901 census John, Hilda and Margery were living on London Road in Fletton in a house close to Saxon Villas. It was a road of impressive Victorian villas and having a residence there showed they were people of substance. John was labelled as a ‘Grain (coal) Merchant’ suggesting his primary income was from selling grain, but he was also providing coal. By the 1911 census the whole family were living in ‘Abbey Fields, The Park’ which was another select location to live: the address is now on Park Crescent. John was a coal company director, and they were also rich enough to afford a governess for their children. Hilda and John remained there for the rest of their lives and took a very active role in the life of the city including John becoming a city magistrate.

Hilda was known best for her philanthropy, which filled her married life. She helped to form Canon Ball’s ‘Guild of Help’ (see the Edith Ball blogpost) and was also involved with the Florence Saunders Nursing Association from the start, along with her husband (they were both present at the 60^th anniversary). I think it very likely that Hilda and Edith were friends and it's possible they were at Laurel Court together. It could have been this close friendship that led Hilda to engage in Edith’s father’s scheme and Edith’s aunt’s association. Newspaper accounts reveal that Canon Ball preached his social schemes to his congregation, but Hilda attended St Margaret's in Fletton and then St Mark's on Lincoln Road, so she must have been influenced by him personally. To remain devoted to the causes over decades strongly suggests a personal relationship with the extended Ball/Saunders family, a factor that would explain why she took up the baton on social housing after Canon Ball's death and Edith had left the city for Oxford.

The Pantiles. Author's photograph

In 1928 work began on The Pantiles, three two-storey blocks of flats that sit around a grassed courtyard at the bottom of All Saint’s Road. The flats were designed to provide comfortable homes for widows and unmarried women, of whom there were many after the Great War. Hilda had been the driving force behind the new homes through the National Council of Women branch in the city, of which she was president; she wanted to ‘mark her term of office with a practical achievement of definite social value’.[ii] Just like The Haven, the original plan was to build one block of four flats initially to gauge interest, and they were designed to be run as a self-supporting venture. By the December 1927 meeting of the NCW the plan was to build all three blocks at a cost of £200 and they had decided that the company overseeing the housing would be known as the ‘Pan-tiles Housing Association’, a company that Hilda would be the chairperson of until her death.[iii]

Each flat was lit by electricity (which was exciting!) and was going to contain ‘two bedrooms, sitting room, kitchenette, bathroom and lavatory,’ along with the use of a ‘coal bunker’ and gas too. These were a big improvement from the flats of The Haven and very modern in their style. In addition, the central courtyard and foyers were planned to be lit by an electric light all night, offering safety to the women as they came and went. This in itself is a remarkable detail; how many other buildings in the city have been designed specifically for the safety of women at night? Lighting entrances for safety is commonplace now, but there is a very good chance that this was the first and only building to consider the safety of women for many years. For anyone wondering who these forward-thinking architects were, they were Messrs Traylen, Lenton and Warwick.

The Pantiles. Author's photograph

The construction was quick and the first women had moved in by the beginning of June 1928. A comment piece known as Old Scarlet in the Peterborough Standard took a critical look at the new flats. Looking past the ‘half-grown grass and the unplanted flowerbeds’ he noted ‘it is obvious that the buildings will assume in their maturity a beauty and homeliness which is quite attractive’ – how many modern buildings can that be said about?![iv] Sadly, the correspondent could not resist making a dig at the homes for women declaring: ‘I hope the residents to be will live happily together so that when mere men do visit them in their Adamless Eden, they will find an example of harmony and content.’ Given that Mrs Shipley Ellis vetted every applicant and that a couple of the flats would be provided furnished for visiting lady teachers, I think we can safely assume that there were not the sort of fights that the correspondent had suggested. Hilda was not content with the building of the flats and remained devoted to the administration of the association for many years.

The Pantiles was not the only legacy that Mrs Shipley Ellis provided the city with. In 1945 she purchased an oak door for the cathedral in memory of her sisters Hannah, Martha, and Ethel.[v] It is interesting to note that this was during WW2. We saw similar memorials to women during WW1 at a time that grief was ever present but almost entirely (and understandably) directed at the horrendous loss of men fighting abroad. The grief of losing women at this time still hurt, so women with money and connections created memorials carefully, expressing their loss through quiet giving and discrete memorials. The oak door is in St Kyneburgha’s Chapel in front of a staircase. I’ve sadly been unable to find an image of the door (although there are lots of neighbouring St Oswald’s), so if anyone has an image and/or can confirm the door is still in place, do let me know.

Hilda was also treasurer of the local branch of the RNLI for many years, taking both secretary and treasurer roles in the early 1940s when need dictated. Lady Winfrey said of Hilda ‘much of the success of the branch is down to her untiring efforts.’[vi] She was also an enduring supporter of the Conservatives, being a founding member of the local women’s branch, of which she also became the treasurer. In addition, she was engaged with the Red Cross, most notably during the Great War. And it would be remiss of me not to mention the copious number of fetes, church functions and school events that she either opened, judged, or spoke at. She supported as many causes as she could and was always welcomed and appreciated for her hard work and kindness. Some of these she attended with her husband, and later her daughters, but many of them she supported in her own right as a wealthy and influential woman.

Hilda Shipley Ellis died on 1 May 1951 aged 77, her death being announced on the front page of the Peterborough Standard, such was her importance to the city.[vii] Her life and legacy was celebrated, along with her family history, and most touching of all, the article featured a photograph of her and her husband John, who had died in February, beaming at each other. at their 50th wedding anniversary. The couple had been married 55 years at the time of his death, which appears to have been the catalyst for her own demise. She became very ill after he died, being unable to attend his funeral at St Mark’s in March. She began to recover but a ‘seizure’ (potentially a stroke) caused her to relapse and die a few days later. A memorial was erected to the couple in St Mark’s church by their children in 1953. Margery Shipley Ellis, their eldest daughter, took on many of her parents’ roles, including becoming a magistrate, continuing the legacy that she inherited.

St Mark's Church. Author's photograph

The Pantiles still sit on the corner of Park Road and All Saints Road and are nearing their 100^th birthday. As you can see from the images, the 12 flats remain largely as they were built, which is testament to the forethought of the planners and architects. Next time you find yourself in the area do take a moment to admire the first social housing specifically for women and the ‘practical achievement of definite social value.’ There aren’t many people who can claim to have left such a legacy, and far fewer who were women! Perhaps this is another contender for a Blue Plaque?

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[i] The family surname was actually Ellis, so Hilda was occasionally known as Mrs Ellis. Shipley was the middle name for John and their children, but they incorporated it into their surname.

[ii] ‘Flats for Single Ladies’, Peterborough Standard, 22 July 1927, p.7.

[iii] ‘Mrs Shipley Ellis and Flats for Women’, Peterborough Standard, 9 December 1927, p.7, ‘Flats for Bachelor Ladies’, Peterborough Standard, 17 February 1928, p.12.

[iv] ‘Notes and Comments’, Peterborough Standard, 6 July 1928, p.6.

[v] ‘Oak Door for the Cathedral’, Peterborough Standard, 30 March 1945, p.1.

[vi] ‘Social and Personal Notes’, Peterborough Standard, 13 March 1942, p.4.

[vii] ‘Death of Mrs Shipley Ellis, a Great Social Worker’, Peterborough Standard, 4 May 1951, p.1.

 

Edith Ball and The Haven

The Haven, Alexandra Road. Author's Photograph

Edith Mary Ball was born in Peterborough in 1872. She was the first child of the Reverend Charles Ball (later a canon) and Mary Eliza Saunders. Her grandfather was Augustus Page Saunders, the Dean of Peterborough Cathedral and one of her aunts was Florence Saunders, the woman who would later bring district nursing to Peterborough. Her family were exceptional people, and as the first-born child of two very loving parents, Edith was given the skills and support to do extraordinary things herself. This blogpost reveals what life was like for a prominent vicar's daughter at the turn of the twentieth century and how much could be achieved by one woman.

Edith was educated at home with her sisters Mildred Mary and Dorothy Mary in her early years, when the family were living in St Mary’s vicarage where her father was the vicar. However, despite having three servants in the 1881 census, they did not have a live-in governess and still had a nurse. This is almost certainly due to the young age of the girls – 8, 6 and 2 – but could also suggest the girls, or at least Edith, had visiting specialist tutors. Edith was 18 by the time of the 1891 census and has so far proved elusive in the records. She was almost certainly at a boarding school and has had one or several of her details mis-transcribed. She may even be known under a nickname (something that was evident in the census records at Laurel Court) and has therefore not been discoverable in any searches.

Picture by Paul Bryan via geograph.org.uk

By the 1901 census Edith was living at home at All Saints' vicarage, Peterborough, with her parents and three younger siblings. They also had three domestic servants and a sick nurse in the house, and unusually we know why. Edith’s father Charles had been taken ill will bronchitis and had spent a few weeks in bed. The sedentary time in bed had caused a blood clot to form in his leg and he was forced to undergo emergency surgery to remove his leg above the knee. He survived, but he had been perilously close to death and was left with quite a severe disability. All of this had taken place in the few weeks prior to the 1901 census, which is why a sick nurse was still in place to provide round the clock care whilst Edith and her family slept. Their nurse, Jessie M Clarabut, was from Sussex and might have been hired through connections at Peterborough Infirmary or more likely through the advice or contacts of Edith’s aunt Florence, who was running her district nursing service by the point. No indication was given in the census of any occupation that Edith or her siblings were undertaking, despite her youngest siblings, Richard and Cisely Mary both being of school age. So what did Edith do? Being the eldest child of a high-profile Canon, Edith had grown up in a world of compassion and duty. Her life was to serve others and make life better for those who could not help herself.

She was also occupied with the duties of a large family, being a witness at her sister Dorothy’s wedding to Rev. George Godfrey at All Saint’s Church in 1899. Her large family included several aunts and cousins too, who lived close to their family home Madeley House on Park Road (now part of King’s School). Her mother’s cousin Wilhelmina Blanche Saunders (more of an aunt figure) lived on Park Road and so did her father’s sisters Hannah and Susan Ball, all of whom had never married. Hannah and Susan lived next door shortly before their deaths in December 1897 and February 1898. So not only was Edith surrounded by a large and loving family, she was also surrounded by wealthy independent women who had never married. It’s therefore not too surprising that Edith didn’t marry either.

Edith’s desire to do good in her life and specifically to help the poor was planted in her at a young age by her parents. Her father was not afraid to preach to his congregation on the subject of helping the poor and was himself inspired by the ‘City Guild of Help’ in Bradford. In a speech in early January 1907 he attempted to inspire his audience to come together to create a ‘City Guild of Help’ for Peterborough, which was an early form of social work to help the most needy and provide targeted support tailored to their needs. His wish for Peterborough was that ‘no one in our city shall starve, or go ragged, or shall look in vain for a friendly helping hand in his time of need.’[1] His words seem as relevant as ever over a hundred years later.

Edith was closely involved in her father’s work and the 1911 census shows Edith visiting a clergyman with her father in Aylestone, Leicester (her father was a curate in the area). She’s 38 and single and her father is 78. We know at this point that she was still living at home with her parents, and she was almost certainly there to provide her father with any care that he needed, given his age and disability. It’s also very likely that they were travelling to visit Edith’s sister Mildred (married to Rev. Cornelius Carleton) in Leicester and meet her four-month-old baby Margaret, the youngest of four.

By this point in her life Edith was at her most productive. Her father’s desire to create a better life for the poor had made a profound impact and she pushed to build the first compassionate social housing in the city – a form of model housing. The Daily News (London) featured an article in May 1912 with the headline ‘Pensioners’ Houses, Lady’s Novel Scheme at Peterborough’ that began:

 

Peterborough is shortly to be the centre of a novel housing scheme for Old Age Pensioners, originated by Miss Edith M Ball, granddaughter of the late Dean Saunders, of Peterborough, and eldest daughter of Canon Ball, until recently Vicar of All Saints’, Peterborough. At present, however, there is a delay in the construction of the tenements, due to the fact that the Town Council at their last meeting referred the plans back, to enable the architect to make the rooms “a little more airy and healthy.”[2]

 

Edith’s plans were rather grand, and she explained in an interview that she hoped to build ‘five houses, all opening on to a central lawn, with trees, comfortable seats, and flower borders.’ The houses were small tenements containing a total of eight rooms, four smaller rooms for single people and four larger for couples. She planned to build one house initially ‘as an experiment’ and if it was successful the others would be built. She also had a little name drop and mentioned that Octavia Hill herself had endorsed the idea! Praise indeed.

The article had followed one in the Peterborough Standard which stated Edith’s ‘philanthropic works are well known in the city.’[3] It also explained that the five houses or blocks, would be built on Alexandra Road and that the rent would be ‘as low as possible.’ She was also hoping for the scheme to be ‘self-supporting and NOT a charity.’ The furnishings for the room do sound rather old fashioned, so it is worth remembering that this was 1912:

 

Each room is to have a large window, a ventilated food cupboard, a china [sic] cupboard, kitchen range with boiler, seat combined with coal box, and dress cupboard. The four rooms on each floor are to share a lavatory, and a scullery, the latter containing a sink and wash tub. Each tenant is to have the use of the wash tub one day in the week.

 

The trail goes cold in the newspapers and you’re probably trying to recall the street, wondering where these tenements are on Alexandra Road, or if they were ever built. Indeed they were, but only the first block.

  

Map: OS six-inch England and Wales, 1842-1952 from maps.nls.uk

 

Edith’s model house, known as ‘The Haven’ sits above the D at the end of ‘Alexandra Road’ and has a long narrow garden. There is space in the plot to the west of the house to build more tenements, but they were never built. I have yet to discover why the remaining tenements weren’t built, but it was likely deemed unsuccessful – too expensive to run for the peppercorn rents that were going to be charged.

But Edith wasn’t happy with only one Haven in Peterborough and pushed for more. In 1920 she spoke passionately on the creation of a Public Utility Society which would oversee the building of three more Havens to provide a total of 24 new homes. She had had two meetings with the Housing Commissioner and correspondence by letter. Her hard work had secured the support of the government and the promise of financial subsidies towards the cost of the new houses. They created a deputation consisting of Edith, Mrs Clayton, and Sir Richard Winfrey, M.P. who were going to approach the Ministry and ask what money was available. However, there is no evidence for any further model houses built in the city. It is possibly because in the same year in October the council were building their own social houses in St Paul’s Road and at Westwood Grange, so the impetus for the creation of her houses was unnecessary.

The 1921 census should have been an excellent indicator of where she was living, but she appeared to have gone on holiday with her family. Her father had passed away in 1918, so it was an all-female holiday. Edith and her mother Mary were staying in a house named ‘Kilbreen’ on Austin Street, Hunstanton (which is a most beautiful street) and they had been joined by Edith’s married sister Mildred, and Mary’s cousin W Blanche Saunders.

Austin Street, Hunstanton by Rob Johnson via georgaph.org.uk

Edith was one of the founder members of the Peterborough Association for the Blind in 1911, signing her name on the first minutes as their chairman. By 1914 we know that Edith was the ‘secretary of the Peterborough Committee of the Midland Counties Blind Association’ and was in communication with the Free Library Committee.[4] She requested that the ‘volumes of braille type’ in the library were ‘increased from five to eight per month’ suggesting there was a real need and desire for such literature. She was still working as the secretary in 1922, her name appearing in the paper as she organised a January party for blind Peterborians at the Bedford Coffee Tavern on January 17^th. She remained on the committee, although no longer the secretary, from 1924 to 1927 where a notable fellow committee member was Miss (Enid) Hartley of Fletton Towers. Edith had connections to all of the great and the good in the city.

In her later years Edith moved to Oxford, close to family members, which is where she was captured in the 1939 census. She had made a special trip back to Peterborough in 1932 to celebrate the 21^st birthday of the Peterborough Association for the Blind. Edith not only continued her tireless work for the blind in Oxford, but she frequently corresponded with the Midland area organiser on matters of the blind, such was her commitment to the cause. I can’t help but wonder if she was also involved in the provision of a wireless radio for Miss Gibson in 1925 as she became increasingly blind in her latter years.

Edith died on 17^th November 1951 in Oxford around the time of her 79^th birthday. Recollections of her life in the ‘Old Scarlett’ section of the Peterborough Standard claim she was born at St Paul’s vicarage (not the current building at the Triangle) where her father was the first vicar, before they moved to All Saints, where he was again the first vicar. It’s a reminder that Edith was born at a time of great change, as Peterborough grew from a small population to a vast one, and she was perfectly placed to make her mark on the city through her philanthropic deeds, providing homes for the elderly poor and comfort to the blind of the city through decades of work.

Her legacy lies in The Haven on Alexandra Road (owned by the council by the time of her death) and in the many lives she improved in the city. Her aspirations were big, and I’d like to think that if she had built the additional houses on Alexandra Road that there might already be a plaque up remembering her good deeds, but you don’t win accolades for not finishing a job! I suspect there are some more buildings in the city that owe their creation to the work or inspiration of Edith Ball, but for now, building the city's first model housing is enough. My next blogpost will be on the building I suspect she helped to create, but that is for another day...

 

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[1] ‘Canon Ball’s Crusade’, Peterborough Express, 9 January 1907, p.4.

[2] ‘Pensioners’ Houses’ Daily News (London), 4 May 1912, p.3.

[3] ‘Miss Ball’s Scheme’, Peterborough Standard, 27 April 1912, p.6.

[4] ‘For the Blind’, Peterborough Express, 30 September 1914, p.3.

Franziska Schmidt: Forgotten Laurel Court Teacher

 

I’ve spent the last few weeks exploring the women associated with Laurel Court School in the Cathedral Precincts and it has been a far more fruitful and interesting challenge than I first thought (more on that another day). The first names that pop into people’s heads when you mention the school there are Miss Margaret Gibson and Edith Cavell, but I wanted to get a fuller understanding of the school – surely they weren’t the only names worth recording?

What I have discovered is a loving family of pupils and teachers that existed there over 50 years. Miss Gibson led the school, but she did so with her partner Annette Van Dissel at her side and other teachers too.[i] Laurel Court was a sanctuary and a home to girls from right around the world during their education. I have set out to discover the lives of the girls and teachers who attended the school, which has not been easy, but thanks to census records, newspaper records and a few family trees, I’ve discovered a number of interesting women.

For this blogpost I am looking at the life of teacher Franziska Schmidt. Franziska was born in Potsdam, Germany in 1849 but spent most of her life in Peterborough. Franziska taught at Laurel Court School with Margaret and Annette; she arrived at the school around 1875, four years after the school had been taken over by them and she worked initially as a governess. She was only 26 when she arrived, but she must have loved it there because she remained for the next 40 years!

Whereas Margaret and Annette shared financial and practical responsibilities for running the school (they were joint ‘Head’ in the censuses), Franziska remained a loyal teacher, a third in command, should the need arise. Her native German tongue helped many girls to excel in the language exams and saw many of her pupils travel over to Europe to work, to make the most of their skills.

Margaret, Annette and Franziska lived and taught together happily for the next 35 years. By the 1910s the three women were reaching the age that many women would be retiring but they continued happily with the school. That was until April 1914 when Annette died at the age of 73. Her death was a deep blow to the happy school, but her death was only the start of issues for the school. The Great War began only a few months after Annette’s death and anti-German rhetoric was understandably rife in the city. For a small girls’ school that specialised in teaching French and German, the residents of Laurel Court must have been feeling on edge. Anti-German sentiment was particularly strong at the start of the war and local papers recorded the bubbling up of rumours that the well-known German butchers the Franks had expressed anti-British sentiments. Matters grew over a few days, resulting in the Westgate riots in August 1914, when locals attacked the businesses owned and run by the Franks and other Germans. We refer to them as the Westgate riots because that was the location of the Franks’ butchers, but the mob caused damage to other premises on Long Causeway, just outside the Cathedral Precincts, and set off past the Cathedral gates to Fletton Avenue where the Franks lived.

Franziska would not have been safe from the taunts of angry Peterborians if she stepped outside the precincts and we cannot rule out the possibility that the school was also a target of hatred. Despite this, she remained at the school, continuing as best she could whilst reading stories of how her fellow naturalised countrymen were being rounded up and detained or deported, fearing every day that she would be next. Businesses were removed from their German owners, and we must consider that that Laurel Court was not immune to an official knock at the door to identify German citizens and ascertain they did have any saleable or removable assets.

By August 1915 Franziska Schmidt felt she had no choice but to leave Peterborough and return to Germany. We know she left then because it was announced in the paper, recording her 40 years of teaching, and stating clearly that she was returning to Germany to live with her sister for the length of the war. It stressed: ‘This was not a deportation but a voluntary act on the part of Miss Schmidt.’[ii] The statement and language used strongly suggests that she had been the victim of harassment and xenophobia despite her dedicated work educating girls in the city, and that her departure was a sacrifice for the good of the school.

Prior to the war her name had appeared in the papers a few times in 1914 as she attended several weddings and the New Year party at the Angel Hotel, showing that she was very much part of the city. One unusual piece of information we have is that a Miss Armstrong from Boston, Lincolnshire, had been staying with Franziska’s sister in Hanover before getting help to escape back to England by December 1914, so there would at least have been a room for Franziska there on her return. It also suggests that even though Franziska had taught at Laurel Court for 40 years, she was still in regular contact with her home, and her sister potentially helped girls to find work in Germany.

At the time of her departure Franziska had lost her two closest friends and confidantes and was herself nearly 66 years old. To add to her distress only one month after she left the school one of her pupils, Edith Cavell, was executed by German firing squad. She had returned to her home country to discover that her fellow men had killed a pupil she had both educated and taught alongside.

It isn’t known what happened to Franziska after she left Peterborough, but she never returned to teach with Miss Gibson after the war. We can only hope that she lived the war out quietly with her sister, but it seems rather unlikely. She had dedicated the greatest part of her life to education in Peterborough, yet due to the war she was all but written out of the history of the school. Hopefully, this blogpost will start the conversation again.

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[i] Were they more than business partners? It’s a very interesting question. They crossed Europe to move to a country where no one knew them. They were joint ‘Head’ of the household in Census records. They raised children together (the Kirkby children for example) as a family unit and stayed together until death parted them. At the very least they were utterly devoted friends. Most people can only dream of living their life with their best friend, so either way, they win. I hope they did love each other – they certainly inspired it in others.

[ii] Peterborough Express, 4 August 1915, p.2.

Image of Laurel Court by Mat Fascione via Geograph

Image of an angel sculpture in Potsdam by Birgit P via Pixabay

Rear Admiral George Morris

Rear Admiral George Morris

Whilst writing about the Dower House in Priestgate I was reminded of its 1851 occupant, a man named George Morris. He was in his 70s, had been in the navy and lived with his sister and a small retinue of staff, but is name was unfamiliar, and I had had no reason to research his life before. Now that I've taken the time to research him, I’m very glad that I have, because he adds another dimension to the gentry in Thorney and Peterborough.

The Dower House in Priestgate was the perfect location for George Morris to live in his final years. Sat between the beautiful centuries-old Hake House, home to a family of solicitors, and the imposing Georgian mansion of Justice of the Peace Thomas Alderson Cooke, the neat, modern house was perfect for the aging hero. But who was George Morris and why was he living in Peterborough?

George had been born in Rotherhithe, Surrey, in 1778 to William Morris, a Master Superintendent in the Royal Navy. At only eleven years old George began his naval career with his father, following in the footsteps of his brother John.[1] At the age of only 15, George lost a leg whilst serving on the Audacious, but rather than leave the navy he continued for many years, advancing through the ranks.[2] He was a Second Lieutenant by the time he was involved in the Battle of Camperdown off the coast of the Netherlands (when his captain was said to have been cut in two by a cannon!) and he was engaged in a significant number of French and Dutch ship captures in his career during the French Revolutionary Wars and Napoleonic Wars. In January 1809 his ship was wrecked near Malmo forcing him to walk with his crew through snow and ice to Gothenburg (over 170 miles away) to where they knew another British naval ship was. The tenacity required to have made that journey with a leg missing is incredible and highlights the physical and mental strength he had. George and his crew remained on the ship whilst they waited for the ice to melt to enable them to return home to England.

The Battle of Camperdown by Thomas Whitcombe (via wikipedia)

Home for George at that time was in the arms of his bride Sarah. He had married her in 1807 in Minster, Kent, where Sarah had been born, and also close to the naval dock at Sheerness. But Kent was not to be home to their own family, for Sarah joined George when he was posted to (King’s) Lynn shortly after returning from his Swedish ordeal. George was involved with the Sea Fencibles, controlling a group of local men to defend the coast around The Wash at a time of heightened fear that the country was going to be invaded. George and Sarah very likely lived in Lynn initially, but by 1811 when Sarah gave birth to their first child Ann, they were living in Wisbech. George was there to greet his daughter, but he left shortly afterwards to join the Vulture, which was sailing about the Channel Islands. He returned home at the beginning of 1812 and, keen for a much-needed heir to the Morris naval dynasty, he swiftly got Sarah pregnant. George Sculthorpe was born in 1812 in Elm, a small village just south of Wisbech, which was to be their family home for several years. In 1816 George received a pension of £300 per year as compensation for the loss of his leg, which provided him with a very handsome income, having left the navy at this point.

George was active in social circles in Wisbech and stewarded balls and assemblies including the Wisbech Ball in 1813 and the Wisbech Assembly in 1816 and 1820 held at the Rose and Crown. All the events provide us with clues to George’s friendship circle: at the 1813 ball he stewarded with Lieut-Col Watson, Hugh Jackson, Goddard Marshall, Major Smith, and John Sculthorpe; in 1816 he stewarded with Captain Swaine, also of the Royal Navy; in 1820 he stewarded with John Wing. We can make a good guess that John Sculthorpe was a close friend of George’s after giving his son George the middle name Sculthorpe, and a Jackson appears as an executor in his will. Captain Spelman Swaine had an even more impressive naval career, having travelled with, and saved the life of, Captain George Vancouver (look him up – he’s a big deal!). Likewise, the name Wing will become important shortly. George was also a member of the Wisbech Bible Society, which included a member of the Peckover family.

In 1821 Sarah died in childbirth aged 38. George and his four small children remained in Elm for a few more years, but Captain George, as he was then known, needed help running the household, not least because of his disability. He also needed help caring for his children – the youngest Bryan was only two years old – so his widowed mother Ann Minter Morris moved in to help.

 Church of All Saints, Elm, by Tim Heaton via Geograph.

In 1828 George discovered one of his sheep had gone missing. He went out to look for it and came across a sack that contained the skin and shortly after the still warm carcass of the sheep in the hands of Isaac Quince. The case went to trial and Isaac was found guilty of stealing the sheep: he was sentenced to death (later commuted to transportation). What’s interesting is that another gentleman with a case at the Ely Assizes that day was Tycho Wing, of Thorney Abbey (the Duke of Bedford’s steward) who had also had sheep stolen. It seems likely that the two men had made friends over their situation and at some point Tycho had mentioned a property that was going to become available on the Duke’s estate. It’s also likely that George became very unpopular with some of the locals after (temporarily) having a member of his small village community sentenced to death and this could have been the catalyst that made the Morrises decide to leave Elm.

The family had moved to Thorney by 1829 along with George’s mother. She sadly passed away in the July of that year, but her death does give us the earliest date that the family were living there and suggests that she had been living with the family for a while in Elm. This is because despite dying in Thorney she was buried in Elm, so she must have bought/been provided with a plot there – probably next to or with her daughter-in-law and grandchildren – and returned there on her death.

With a friend in Tycho Wing, George didn’t waste any time ingratiating himself with the rest of the local gentry in Thorney and was soon sitting on a board as a Commissioner of the North Level. He was also sufficiently established enough to be on the committee to attempt to establish a central assizes court in Wisbech in 1836.

Thorney Churchyard. Snowdrops and headstones at Thorney Abbey by Richard Humphrey via Geograph.

The family lived at The Gores, a farmhouse southwest of the main village of Thorney and they were joined by George’s sister Mary, who was no doubt attempting to mitigate the loss of his wife. She would have been a mother figure to George’s daughter Sarah Dorothea and son Bryan who were still living at home, the older siblings Ann and George having left home to marry and enter the church respectively. Sarah Dorothea married George Frederic Brittin in 1843 at Thorney Abbey, her brother George conducting the ceremony! She moved to Thornhaugh to live as a farmer’s wife and had several children, one of whom became a surgeon and moved to Australia. Dorothea (as she was usually named on census records) died in 1864 aged 46.

The Gores was home to the Morris family for decades, and indeed generations, because Bryan became a farmer and his own son George Lever Morris followed in his wake. Bryan married Mary Whitting Lever, the niece of his father’s good friend (and executor) William Whitting in 1848 in Islington by licence (very common for local families). This seems to be the point at which George and Mary decided to leave Thorney and find a comfortable property for them to live their diminishing years in.

It is impossible to know exactly what prompted George and Mary to move to Peterborough, but it is likely to be because of a friendship between George Morris and Thomas Alderson Cooke, for it was his house that they lived in. They were very similar in age, both well-respected gentlemen, and had both sat on many boards over the years. They were also very sociable men, and it is easy to believe that their close proximity in their final years would have comforted and entertained them both.                                   

The side of the Dower House by Geographer via Geograph

The little property that George lived in had been built as a Dower House for Thomas’ wife Mary on the event of his death, but by the late 1840s Thomas was still active – he was still working as a magistrate – and showed no sign of imminent demise, so it was the perfect property to rent out to his friend. We know that George was living there by the 1851 census, but it’s likely that he moved in at around the time Bryan married in 1848. He stayed there until at least 1855, following the death of Thomas in December 1854. Thomas’ will stated that Mary could remain in the larger mansion house for one year after his death and was then granted the smaller property ‘lately crafted and built’ for her use for the rest of her life. It’s likely that he remained in the property until his death given the particular information in his will (see below) particularly given that Mary Cooke lived with her daughter Helen in later censuses.

George died on 29^th September 1857 aged 79. His body was returned to Thorney where he was buried with his family. His will reveals the treasures that were most important to him: to George Sculthorpe he gave his ‘Gold Chronometer with gold chain seals… my painting of the Battle of Camperdown, my naval medal and such of my own books as he shall make choice of’; to Bryan ‘my portrait and other paintings… and my gold pocket watch and gold chain’; and he was quite particular about the ornaments that lived on his mantlepiece, ensuring they were equally divided between his daughters Ann and Sarah Dorothea. Amazingly, we know that at least one of these items survives, because George’s portrait can be viewed. It was donated to the National Museum of the Royal Navy in Portsmouth back in 1990 and has been made available to share under Creative Commons Licence. The artist is unknown, but George’s personality shines through. Can you imagine him sitting in the Duke’s Head in Thorney discussing the North Level, or sharing a whiskey with Thomas Alderson Cooke in his final years, sharing the success of their children and grandchildren? His was a long life, and a life well lived. The loss of his leg at so young an age didn’t appear to hinder him as he carved out his naval career, family, and his friendships and is yet another example of successfully overcoming disability (albeit with a handsome pension).

References

I am indebted to the relatives of Rear Admiral George Morris for pulling together some incredibly useful information about his life on their Ancestry family trees, including information from the British Naval Biographical Dictionary, 1849. I have also used the British Newspaper Archive to search for information about George and his family, and the National Archives for supplying George and Thomas’ wills. I must mention Dorothy Halfhide who pointed me towards the Thorney Society website for information about George and as a resource for the wider history of Thorney. I have used the downloaded portrait of George from Art UK from the National Museum of the Royal Navy, Portsmouth and Geograph images whilst I look for the cable to my camera where my own images are.

Useful Websites

www.Ancestry.co.uk

https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/rear-admiral-george-morris-116566

www.Britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk

www.Nationalarchives.co.uk

www.Thorney-museum.org.uk

www.Wisbechmuseum.org.uk

[1] He joined his father in October 1789 which made him 11. His brother, father and other family members began their career at the age of 10, so he was a little later than them.

[2] Some records say he was 16, but his birthday was in October 1789 and his injury was in May 1794.