The Twelfth Night Ball in Lowestoft

Pakefield Church (Creative Commons)

The Twelfth Night was the traditional end to the Christmas Season, to be marked with dinners and festivities in Victorian England. In 1888, it was a most eventful observance in Lowestoft. In late December, the Mayor - a local surgeon named William Chubbe - announced there would be a "Mayor's Ball" on the evening of Friday, January 6. It would be by invitation only so the gentry waited with excitement for the coveted card. But not all. Humbug! The announcement brought forth a furious denunciation of such frivolities from the venerable rector of Pakefield. 

A small village on the North Sea, Pakefield was two miles from Lowestoft. The Rev Lewis Price had been rector there since 1871. Nearly 70, he'd had an eventful clerical career. As a younger man, he had been one of the clergy associated with the infamous Agapemone commune in Somerset. He married one of the celebrated Nottidge sisters, although he had to go court to force her to live with him. She died in 1886.

When Price learned of the Lowestoft ball, he sent a letter to the Eastern Daily Press calling upon the mayor to cancel it. "Moses or the Prophets or Christ or his Apostles never gave a ball ... Balls are offensive to all true Christians ... they inflame the worst passions of the streets, promote the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life ... we will pray to deliver you and your people from this cursed ball." The secular press, of course, mocked Price's letter, calling it "balderdash of the most outrageous and unchristian character" and an "outrageous attempt to revive the worst traits of Puritanism."

The rector's appeal went unheard but, two nights before the ball, a noisy procession, said to number 3000 people, marched from Lowestoft to Pakefield rectory. A brass band serenaded the rector while the torchlit crowd burned him in effigy. It was noted that most of those in the crowd were not likely to have received a ticket to the ball but, still, it was an evening not to be missed. Even if, as reported, the Rev. Price was not at home. 

"Too Early?" by Tissot 1873 (Guildhall Gallery)

The Twelfth Night ball was a great success. Lowestoft's Public Hall in the London Road had been elaborately decorated and the adjoining Masonic Hall was set up for "refreshments." Mayor and Mrs. Chubbe led the dancers on to the floor. It was a high-toned evening, of course. "If we took a census of all the English girls who go to balls and of all the English girls who do not, the balance of virtue, modesty and innocence would certainly largely be on the side of the dancers," observed the Ipswich Journal.

The Rev Price remained at Pakefield until he resigned in 1901 at the age of 81. He had not lose his fire. In 1897, he was back in the national papers for calling village football matches "devices of the devil." He died in 1906 and is buried at Pakefield. There is a memorial window in the church that was put in while the Rev. Price was still alive which, according to the church history, is "quite unique."

see: pakefieldchurch.com/about-all-saints/church-history/

Merry Christmas from the blog team & Happy New Year.
Clerical Errors, A Victorian Series, Vol. 2 is available here,

Tittle Tattle or the Truth? A Northumberland Tragedy

Seaton Lodge* on the magnificent coast of Northumberland, is "one of the most picturesque houses in the North of England." In 1893, 18 year old Polly Lynn, a miner's daughter, was in service for the Scotts who had taken the lodge. One day in early 1894, Polly was walking with a friend when the Rev. Alfred Pallister, the young curate of Deleval, cordially bid her good day. Polly did not reply and walked on. Sarah Chrisp, her companion, thought it had been very rude of her but Polly had her reasons. She confided that, while she was at Seaton Lodge, Mr. Pallister was a regular visitor. One night, she believed the curate had crept down the hall, into her room and into her bed. She resisted and he left. 

Such a story would inevitably get out and it would reach the ears of the Rev. George W Jackson, vicar of the parish that took in the villages surrounding the splendid estate at Seaton Deleval. The Rev Mr Jackson did not approach his curate for an explanation; rather, he first sought out Polly, who had since found new employment in the home of the Tweddles in Whitley. Polly was alone when the vicar interrogated her. She held to her story - she shared the large bed with another female servant but Polly was certain that she felt a man in her bed. “I did not say it was Mr. Pallister just that I thought it was.” Rev. Jackson got all her details but, as he left, he told her to be very careful, because she could go to prison for making false claims. The vicar thought Polly was in good spirits when he left but, two days later, Mrs. Tweddle found Polly bleeding to death, having cut her throat.

A large and mostly hostile crowd awaited the Rev. Jackson when he appeared at the ensuing inquest held at the Rockcliffe Arms in Whitley Bay. He denied urging "the deceased" to recant her story or threatening her with prison. It was never his wish to hush anything up. The vicar said his sole intent from the first was to get to the truth, deal with it quickly, and spare the Church another great public scandal. Of course, he didn't think young Pallister would do anything like that, unless he was drunk. The curate had been in Deleval for a year and Jackson admitted there had been prior gossip about him but “it had nothing to do with girls.”

C.H. Scott had taken Seaton Lodge for some little time. He testified that Mr. Pallister was a friend and regular guest. The lodge was a rambling, thatched roof home, with many halls. The curate's bedroom was  three doors from where the servant girls slept and it was possible that the curate could have made his way there without the rest of the household knowing. But he couldn't believe Pallister would do such thing. According to Scott, when he first heard the reports, he thought it was a joke. "Rather a serious joke for a clergyman of the Church of England," the coroner observed and with good reason.

Mr. Pallister, of course, denied all. He could not fathom why Polly had made such a charge. The coroner's jury also took evidence that there had been insanity on the mother's side in Polly's family. Perhaps it was just a lurid fantasy, after all. The verdict was that Miss Polly Lynn had taken her life in a moment of temporary insanity.

The Hall at Seaton Deleval (NT)

The single death of a simple girl in a remote mining corner of England did not make all the papers. Nevertheless, the Bishop of Newcastle ordered the Rev. Mr. Pallister to find ecclesiastical duties elsewhere. Before leaving, however, he was feted by many parishioners in the grand setting of Seaton Deleval Hall. He gave a speech. "Scores of people have said to me, 'How do you stand it?' It had simply emanated from a little bit of tittle-tattle and gossip, but unfortunately ended in suicide. I do not wish to pursue the matter further. As Wordsworth said, there are times and crises in the lives of men when they have thoughts in their hearts which lie too deep for tears. It is such a time I experience now." 

After a brief time in Staffordshire, the Cambridge-educated Pallister went out to do church work in Africa, where he died from malarial fever, on New Year's Day, 1898, while Colonial Chaplain at Accra, (Ghana). He was 33.

Five full length accounts of Victorian Clerical Scandals can be found in Clerical Errors, A Victorian Series, Vol II. Click here for details. Thank you for reading this blog. Comments, additions, corrections are always welcome.

For more about Seaton Lodge see https://co-curate.ncl.ac.uk/historical-account-of-seaton-lodge-1894/