Victorian Urban Legends: Incognito Aristocrat June 4, 2022
Author: Beach Combing | in : Modern , trackback
***I’m putting a series of Victorian Urban Legends posts up to draw the reader’s attention to my forthcoming book: The Nail in the Skull and Other Victorian Urban Legends. This legend (with full references) will appear in a second volume. If anyone can fill in missing pieces or German sources… I’ll be grateful and you’ll be credited. drbeachcombing AT gmail DOT com. Already got some amazing dog and penis stories from the last post…***
Victorian Britain was a class-conscious society and in most parts of the land, particularly outside the big cities, the general population accepted ‘the natural order’. ‘The mass of the English people’, wrote Walter Bagehot in 1867, ‘are politically contented as well as politically deferential.’[1] The British aristocracy, particularly, was idealised by many in the lower classes: and the aristocracy accepted and enjoyed their paternalist role. It was a part of their identity that was quite as important as the endless cycles of balls and hunts. A favourite story, shared by rich and poor, was the Incognito Aristocrat, an unrecognised ‘nob’ drops into a poor house for tea. There is really very little remarkable about these tales, but the fact that they were told and retold (and published in newspapers) is telling. They clearly represented something important to Victorian society. This example is from Burnley where the Towneleys were the local squires.
One morning about breakfast time Mr. Towneley arrived at the door of one of his most important tenants in Bolton-by-Bolland. The squire knew the farmer well, having frequently seen the latter on rent days at Towneley. Mr. Towneley was travel-stained, having walked all the way, as was usually his custom; and to the buxom and ‘warm’ farmer’s wife, to whom he was unknown, he did not look above par. Thinking that Mr. T___ was looking for a job, the farmer’s wife, her husband not then being about, took the wayfarer inside the kitchen, and asked him to have some breakfast with the farm servants till the farmer put in an appearance, which she said would be soon. Mr. T___ drew up to the kitchen table at once, and was supplied with a stiff basin of porridge and milk, to which he did ample justice after his long walk. Now the farmer’s wife, amongst her servants at least, was known by what the Scottish folk call ‘near.’ One young pert Yorkshire lad, seeing the workmanlike way in which Mr. T____ was disposing of his breakfast, said in an audible whisper, ‘Blow the bags out, owd ’un; tha’ll not get mony such chances i’ this heawse!’ The farmer walked in at this juncture, and was more than surprised to find his landlord having breakfast with his servants. He apologized for his wife’s mistake. The good lady was in a terrible pickle when she found she had sat Mr. Towneley down with her servants – and to a dish of porridge!’ Mr T. soothed the lady’s outraged feelings by telling her ‘that he had never made a better breakfast in his life!’ Poor Hodge, the farmer’s lad, was in a terrible ‘funk’ when he found out that he had so irreverently addressed the Master of Townley, and he looked as if he expected to be led out to instant execution. However, Mr T. kindly did not abuse his victory. Young Hodge was recalled to life on being told ‘that he was a smart lad,’ and presented with a golden sovereign, which appeared a source of abundant wealth, no doubt, to the nimble-tongued Craven youngster. This is the way they tell the story in Cliviger of the Master of Towneley – ‘Owd Perry’’s – first visit to his estates in Bolton-le-Boland.[2]
This version of the Towneley visit dates to 1894. An earlier version had been published in 1874 (this was clearly a well-known tale in the area): ‘I had it from a friend of mine who was told it by one of the party present on the occasion.’ The story naturally changed in the telling. In 1874 ‘Young Hodge’ got only five shillings.[3]
Stories like this were common. In 1853 Lord Panmure was ‘taking a walk in the vicinity of his ancestral home’ when an old woman asked him whether he knew where he might find ‘his Lordship’. She needed her house repaired. When Lord Panmure explained that he was the man she was looking for and that he would resolve the problem she refused to believe him.[4] In 1857 a Notts newspaper published a tale about Sir William Ingleby who went to pay a grocer’s bill. The grocer assumed that this was Sir William’s butler and shared a brandy with him. It was only as Sir William wrote the cheque that the grocer saw his error. ‘Sit down man! Sit down!’ said Sir William ‘your tobacco is good, and your brandy is better: let us have some more of each and part friends.’[5] In a marvelous tale from 1820 the Duchess of Gordon visited a cottage on her estate and was mistaken by a young girl, Isabel, there as the Queen of the Fairies.[6] Isabel only realized her mistake at church the next Sunday. There were tales, too, about royalty. The Queen at Balmoral visited a bothy where an old woman was sitting by herself. The Queen suggested that the old woman was very old to be alone. ‘Oo’’ was the reply, ‘I’ve walth (plenty) o’ folk to take care o’ me; but they’re a oot to see the Queen.’ ‘Tell them’, rejoined Her Majesty, ‘when they return, the Queen was oot to see you’.[7] The same story had been told about George III.[8] There is a similar story about Albert walking on the Isle of Wight.[9]
I can’t resist as well sharing this extraordinary story from the Queen’s jubilee. LMSROU.
[1] Bagehot, The English Constitution, 32.
[2] Kerr, ‘Typical’.
[3] Wikinson, ‘A Local’.
[4] ‘A Serious Mistake’.
[5] ‘A Good Story’.
[6] ‘Anecdotes’ (1820).
[7] ‘Anecdotes’ (1856).
[8] ‘Wit’: ‘you may tell your companions who are gone to see the king, that the king came to see you.’ Thanks to Chris Woodyard for this reference.
[9] ‘From Our Liverpool Correspondent’.
