Alleged Cruelty to Lobsters

This interesting article was published in The Times on 1st August 1914, just before the outbreak of war.

Alleged Cruelty to Lobsters

At Marylbone, yesterday, Eugene Baratgin, the proprietor of an Oyster bar at Praed Street, Paddington, was summoned for causing unnecessary suffering to two lobsters.

It was alleged that he had kept two live lobsters in the window with their claws tied together and then bent back towards the tail and secured the tail to the body.

The defence was that the lobsters were not bound as described and that even if they were bound in the way alleged, had they suffered any pain they would at one have shed their claws.

Mr. Biron dismissed the summons on the payment of £1 1s costs.

A Certain Nostalgia

Looking back to the days before and after the Great War , C.E, Montague, in his published work of 1940, ‘Disenchantment;’ casts a longing eye over those days of hope and expectation.

“Those who tried to put the clock back merely found that it no longer told the time. The Edwardian Epoch, which continued in essentials until the First World War, was found when hostilities had ceased, to have receded into the background of history. It was as remote as the ‘Ancien Regime’ after the Napoleonic Wars.  In many ways our own world is a better one, and yet it is hard to resist a certain nostalgia for a period when a least some people took it for granted, that the world was a pleasant place to live in a saw no reason why the ‘good time’ should not go on forever.”

Gillette's Blades

In 1895 King C. Gillette had a wonderful idea. He was fed up with having to use a cut razor every morning so he set about designing a wafer thin, incredibly sharp blade that could be held together by a safety clamp. It took him eight years to perfect the design and when it went on sale in 1903, he thought he had been wasting his time for in that year only 51 razors and 168 blades were sold. The following year, however, he knew it had been worthwhile, 90,000 razors were sold and 12,400,000 blades.

Harrods Escalator

Harrods, one of the smartest shops in London, has always prided itself on caring well for its customers – pandering to their every need. In 1898, Harrods installed the very first escalator in Britain in their Knightsbridge store.

But in case any of their wealthy customers found the moving staircase too much for their nerves, liveried attendants were positioned at the top to offer smelling salts or brandy to anyone who wished.

Sunday School Outing

A woman from Enmore, Somerset, remembers a Sunday School Outing to the Quantocks. They set off in a horse drawn wagon prettily decorated by the children towards Will’s Neck Quarry, where they had a “Cold Meat” dinner at the Blue Bell, finishing the meal with Christmas Pudding. The Rector, the Rev. Montgomery, an uncle of the Field Marshall, who had a sense of humour, was in good form – she recalled him serving a slice of cold Christmas Pudding liberally garnished by him with mustard to one of the prim Sunday School teachers.

Sign to Pedwell

Mrs Lily Tapscott was born in 1893, in Stout, a hamlet of High Ham, Somerset. She remembers when there was a signpost on the village green which read “Beer” in one direction, “Stout” in another and “Pedwell” in the third.

The village lads naturally altered the word to “Peedwell” so regularly that the County Council took the sign down. 

Letters for Just One Penny

An elderly lady recalls life before the First World War. She remembered that while in service in London her mother regularly sent her the Somerset Herald. 

The postman took the Newspaper by bicycle from Halse in Somerset to Bishop Lydeard station two miles away, then it went by train to Taunton, where it was sorted at the Station; letters then arrived at Paddington and were delivered the same day. If they were taken to Norwood, it meant being sent from Paddington to Victoria, then to Crystal Palace Station and the journey completed by a postman cycling out to them at about 9.00 p.m….all for just one penny.

Saved from sailing on the Titanic

Emigrations to new counties were seen as a way for families who were very large and there was not enough work in villages. Just before the First World War in High Ham, Somerset a Mr Tapscott who was the youngest of four boys and all three of them emigrated, one to Australia and two to Canada.

In 1912, seven lads from High Ham were booked to sail to America on the “Titanic” but their passages were postponed because the guests for a big Astor wedding in America had priority passage. The Astor family paid all expenses which this delay entailed, and probably saved the lives of all seven from being drowned on the liner’s disastrous maiden voyage.

The Motor Car and Putting on Weight

The invention of the Motor Car brought with it many difficulties for the Edwardian’s, as Sir Henry Thompson, noted in his 1902 publication ‘Motors and Motor Driving’ one was the danger of ‘putting on weight’

Now let me give a few words of caution. The vigorous man who has been used to take exercise on horseback, on his bicycle, or on his legs, must beware less the fascination of motoring lead him to give up his physical exercise. Unless he systematically maintains habits of muscular exertion he may find that he is putting on flesh, becoming flabby, and generally losing condition. Whether he possess a motor or not, he must use his muscles regularly and sufficiently if he desires to preserve his health.  The eyes also should be carefully protected by glasses with silk attached to them partially covering the cheeks, whereby the small flies and dust which accompany road travel in the summer-time, and the cold winds of winter be excluded,

The Waggonette

Mr Hamblin was born in Chedzoy, Somerset in 1891, he recalls life growing up: -

Most people had to rely on the carrier’s van to take them to Bridgewater to shop. This was a horse-drawn covered wooden waggonette with facing side seats and was not very comfy with hard benches and the dust from untarred roads. The driver used to pick up passengers at Cross Tree Corner.

Mother and Father went to Bridgewater to shop most Saturday’s. They would tour the shops ordering  goods which were delivered by errand boys to the Admiral Blake Hotel. The carrier’s van left for the return from here to Chedzoy and it was often a pretty tight fit for the passengers and their purchases.

The Windscreen Wiper

The 1908 FA Cup Final was played at Crystal Palace between Wolverhampton Wanderers and Newcastle United.

The omens looked bad when before the match the ground was lashed with rain, sleet and heavy snow showers. But just before the kick off the skies cleared and a crowd of 75,000 watched Wolves win 3-1 in bright sunshine.

Something good came of the snow showers, however. One Wolves supporter, Captain Gladstone Adams, drove to the match in his motor-car, something of a novelty in those days. But as he drove through the snowstorm he struggled to see where he was going as the snow stuck to his windscreen, and he was forced to fold down his windscreen. That gave him the idea for inventing the windscreen wiper, which he patented in 1911.

Thomas Burgess Swims the Channel.

At Dover on 6^th September 1911, under a warm blue sky, Yorkshireman Thomas Burgess, aged 37, started his 16^th attempt to swim the English Channel.

He was stark naked except for a pair of motorist’s goggles and a rubber bathing cap,  and was smothered with lard. Badly seasick and stung by jellyfish, his spirits were lifted by an accompanying boat crew singing to him whilst he was fortified by hot chocolate, grapes and 20 drops of champagne each hour.

He land near Sangatte, almost an entire day later. Remarkably he had only done 18 hours training for the swim that year.

A Gift for Nothing

The Eastbourne Gazette on 19^th September 1916 ran this story as this promotion gave away free gifts.

A Gift for Nothing

Readers of “The Visitor” who wish to obtain a gift for nothing should carry a copy of that paper in their hand. Every Saturday morning a representative of “The Visitor” is on look-out for readers of that paper; and those who are found with a copy in their hands will be presented with a ticket entitling them to a gift which may be selected at the shop of Mr. Dover Williams, Terminus Road, or Messers. Metcalfe’s, Grove Road.

“The Visitor” is to be obtained at all local newsagents on Saturday’s price one penny.

The Visitors’ Special Paper

A special paper for visitors at Eastbourne has been provided in “THE VISITOR” which contains a view of all the weeks entertainments and other events, all excursions by steamer, motor-boat, motor-coach and char-a-bang; a description of country walks, railway time-tables (with fares), motor bus; many pictures, programmes of dances and much more interesting matter.

You can't depend on Automobiles

At the turn of the century many of the London cab-drivers were not convinced by the new motorised ‘horse-less’ new-fangled contraptions:

 In his diary on 15^th October 1901, journalist R.D. Blumenfeld recalls a conversation with a cab-driver.

My hansom cab-driver who calls for me every morning at two o’clock after we have sent the paper to press informed me that his brother, who is also a cabman is taking lessons in automobile driving in the hope that some day he will be able to drive a horseless cab. I told him it would be a good idea if he, too, took lessons, but he shouted through the opening at the top that he wasn’t going to waste his money on such foolishness,

“Them automobiles,” he said, “are all right as playthings, but you can’t depend on ‘em. Besides, they are dangerous, and you can’t guarantee getting you’re fare to the place  he wants to reach. You’ll never beat my old ‘orse.”

I wonder if he is right.

The Working Class Tea

For the Edwardian working-class meals were very different to their rich counterparts. J. Rey in ‘The Whole Art of Dinning’ published in 1914, enlightens us:

The Working Class Tea

"The tea of the English working-class is the most eccentric of meals and one of the greatest injuries a gourmet could possibly conceive (accordingly to ideas of Brillat-Savarin); for with the tea they partake of various kinds of salted meat and dried fish, such as ‘corned-beef,’ kippers, bloaters, red herrings, winkles, shrimps, pickles, watercresses, cucumber, lettuce jam or marmalade, bread and butter, and cake, This incongruous kind of food may, no doubt, be quite nice and tasty for this class of people, but it must shock any one endowed with refined epicurean  instinct.’

The Traction Engine

One of my favourite books is ‘Before the lamps went out,’ by Esme Wingfield-Stratford, his account of growing up in Edwardian England. Here he recalls the advent of the Traction Engine.

“But mechanical transport had begun to have its say on the roads; the most familiar and pleasant sound of all being a contented chugging and puffing, that never seemed to stop and hardly to go on. If one went to investigate, which was as often as one was allowed, one would be rewarded with the majestic approach of a traction engine – a spectacle of joy to me, but of fear and grievance to certain of my elders. For the traction engine in those days signified the intrusion of the iron horse upon the quiet ways sacred to the flesh and blood species.

Horses in these days will plod their way among a spate of furiously honking motors with the placidity of cows, but then all the authorities’ appeared  to be agreed that the mere sight of one of these belching monsters was enough to make then shy, bolt, and involve their human cargo in probably fatal accidents.”

Recollections of Lloyd George

Francis W Hirst in his book “In the Golden Days” recalls dinning with  the great David Lloyd George and his perplexities with Morley, the leader of the liberal party. 

“In the spring of 1900 many of us young liberals, and some of an older generation too, were distressed by John Morley’s hesitating mood and his reluctance to commit himself to any decisive policy towards the formulation of peace terms. A note of mine dated April 26^th, 1900, when I was living at 1, Mitre Court Buildings, will illustrate our perplexities. It was just after Lloyd George’s escape in a policeman’s uniform from the Birmingham roughs:

Meeting Lloyd George in the Temple I bought him in to lunch and took a walk with him on the Embankment. He is full of fire. The blow aimed at him was a hard one. It dazed him and mashed his hat. The attack on his wife was very cowardly and quite unprovoked. He thinks his two meetings have been a great triumph. Mr. Morley, he says, is in a very indecisive mood. He wants me to persuade him to speak.  Lloyd George was dinning there the other night. Courtney favoured the separation of the Rand, leaving the two Republic’s otherwise intact. Mr. Morley put the difficulties, but wound up, “Courtney, I’m inclined to agree with you.” Courtney replied very brusquely: “You’ll have changed your mind in the morning”; and Morley was much put out! Lloyd George said to me: “Mr. Morley is my leader, but it is very distressing that he won’t keep the field.”

Lloyd George was full of daring.”

Charles Rolls Tragic Accident

The early aviators – or aeronauts, as they were called – certainly took their lives in their hands, The Bournemouth meeting of 1910 was marred by the death of one of the most famous and popular of the early fliers, the Hon, C.S. Rolls:

Picture: The Rolls Crash

Major C.C. Turner in his book ‘The Old Flying Days’ tells the tragic story:

"The accident happened just in front of the grand stand. Rolls had accelerated higher than was expected, probably to allow himself a longer glide down as that he could steer more easily for the landing spot….At a height of seventy feet he stopped his motor and began to glide down at an angle of about 40 degrees, relying on the wind to help him to avoid a long run on the ground; but to check the descent he brought the elevating planes up very sharply. The machine was at a height of 50 feet when the left side of the tail-plane broke away with part of the left of the rudder. There was a sound of splitting wood, and the elevating plane swung back. The head of the machine turned sharply towards the earth, then back, and so crashed upside down from a height of about thirty feet.

The crash, witnessed by thousands of silent and horrified spectators, was followed by a loud report in the engine. Rolls  was found lying clear of the machine, and apparently unscathed. He was, however, lifeless, and the doctor said that death had been virtually instantaneous from concussion."

The Advent of the Aeroplane

In his wonderful book, ‘Before the lamps went out’, Wingfield Stratford describes the early days of aviation from his unique view point.

Charles Rolls

“In 1908, the long expected advent of the aeroplane came to reinforce that of the motor: and how excited one was on hearing that a man called Latham had attempted the almost incredible feat of flying the Channel, and actually got some way before falling into it; and then that another man called Bleriot had got safe across and landed in a field near Dover!

But after the wonderful and horrible things we had been taught to expect of aeroplanes in the prophetic romances of the nineties, these actual planes seemed a feeble anticlimax. If they were a source of danger to anybody, it was the devoted men who flew them, and never seemed to survive many flights. We were slightly acquainted with Charlie Rolls, whose inventive genius survives in the style Rolls-Royce, and who shortly afterwards capped Bleriot’s feat by flying from Dover to Calais and back without landing in France. He had the reputation of dare-devil recklessness both as a motorist and an aviator, and I believe had had one or two fearful smashes, though I remember him as a singularly unassuming and pleasant young man. But he was killed the month after his historic flight, at some Air Tournament, when he was quietly gliding down to make a landing on the aerodrome and at only about 30 feet over the heads of the crowd his tail plane came off and sent him into a fatal crash.

Another famous early aviator, Hamel, made a forced descent on one flight from France in a field belonging to a cousin of mine, a mile or two from our Kentish home, and was put up for a night and tremendously lionized, while most of the horse and man power in the village was enlisted to deal with the plane. Not so long afterwards we heard that he too had gone what seemed to be the way of all aviators.”

The Suffragettes attack London

The have been a few attacks on the Houses of Parliament, this one was one of the less threatening. Helen Atkinson describes how the pre-war suffragettes took their cause to London.

It was decided to attack London. Annie Kenney, the mill girl, was chosen for the work. With two pounds in her pocket, she set off ‘to rouse London.’

When Parliament was next assembled Mrs. Pankhurst, Mrs. How-Martyn, who later founded the suffragette’s fellowship, Annie Kenney and a few other women went to the House of Commons to plead the cause. When they got there, to their dismay they learned that not the slightest consideration would be given to the women’s claims. But the occasion must not be wasted, the Lobby was full of M.P.s, so first one woman and then another jumped up on a settee, and began to speak. The police immediately seized them and hustled them out.

Next morning, ten offenders were charged, Annie Kenney and nine more. Sylvia Pankhurst was not arrested at the time, but because of a protest she made in court, she was also included. All received prison sentences. These women were the first Suffragettes to be imprisoned in London.