Charles Theodore Harlock (1833 - 1863)
by Chris Phillips
John Beckett in his short essay in Reg Holmes' Ely Inns (Ely 1984) describes the long history of brewing in Ely and states that “In 1771 John Harlock bought the Three Crowns Inn with a small brewery attached to it at The Quay; this, like the nearby Waterside Brewery, had direct access to the river and was soon expanded by the addition of new maltings and other buildings and an unloading dock.” Charles Theodore Harlock who was born in December 1833 and whose baptism took place in Holy Trinity on the 16th of that month was the grandson of John Harlock.
His parents were William Harlock (1781-1853) and Elizabeth King (1796-1879). They had married in the February of 1824 in the parish church at Gazeley in Suffolk - some eighteen miles from Ely. The Kings were well-to-do farmers who lived at Desning Hall, a handsome house in the village. It was a good match. Elizabeth was young and from a good family and William was a prosperous tradesman whose business was growing. That he was held in high regard both in Ely and the wider area was beyond doubt and in June 1824 he was appointed a Deputy Lieutenant for the Isle of Ely – a post which two hundred years ago carried some weight and a responsibility for seeing the King's justice done in the county. He served, too, on the local Board of Health.
His parents were William Harlock (1781-1853) and Elizabeth King (1796-1879). They had married in the February of 1824 in the parish church at Gazeley in Suffolk - some eighteen miles from Ely. The Kings were well-to-do farmers who lived at Desning Hall, a handsome house in the village. It was a good match. Elizabeth was young and from a good family and William was a prosperous tradesman whose business was growing. That he was held in high regard both in Ely and the wider area was beyond doubt and in June 1824 he was appointed a Deputy Lieutenant for the Isle of Ely – a post which two hundred years ago carried some weight and a responsibility for seeing the King's justice done in the county. He served, too, on the local Board of Health.
The Harlocks had six children. The eldest, Ebenezer William was born in 1828 and it was he who went on to further develop the family business after the death of his father and to build the Maltings as part of the brewery complex. By the 1880s he was employing more than twenty men. Emily Elizabeth, born in 1831, lived only a few months but in 1832 another boy was born and baptised Alfred King. He was educated at Bury St Edmund's Grammar School, went on to Cambridge, graduated in 1855 and was ordained into the ministry of the Church of England. After serving a short curacy at Hadleigh in Suffolk he became rector of Westhorpe in the same county and spent the rest of his life there – a plaque in the church records the fifty years of ministry that ended only with his death in 1917. After Alfred came Charles Theodore and then in 1834 a fourth son, Henry who preferred farming to life at the brewery and gravitated toward Suffolk where in 1881 he was recorded as being the employer of seven men and two boys on a 352-acre farm. The last child of the family was Matilda born in 1836. She never married and seems to have spent much of her life caring for her mother after her widowhood and retirement to Bury St Edmunds.
Charles, like his brothers, went to school in Bury St Edmunds where his mother's family had, it would seem, many connections. When his education was thought to be complete he went into the family business and in due course was described as a junior partner. Outside his work he had two passions – the local Volunteer Rifle Corps and boating.
Charles, like his brothers, went to school in Bury St Edmunds where his mother's family had, it would seem, many connections. When his education was thought to be complete he went into the family business and in due course was described as a junior partner. Outside his work he had two passions – the local Volunteer Rifle Corps and boating.
Local militias were an important part of the Victorian scene. Perhaps the direct descendants of the old Anglo-Saxon fyrd, they were a reserve force which could be called upon in time of war. The Cambridgeshire Militia had been presented with its colours during the Crimean War and served for a year in Ireland. Soon afterwards, in March 1860, the Ely Rifle Corps came into being and its rules were formally drawn up and signed. Edward Calthorpe (sometimes Calthrop) of Sutton was elected Captain, Henry Waddelow Martin of Littleport became the Corps' Lieutenant and Charles Harlock was made Ensign. The Corps invited Robert Muriel to act as its Honorary Surgeon and William Edward Dickson, Precentor of the Cathedral was appointed Chaplain. It was agreed that the uniform was to be a dark green tunic with a belt and cross belt of dead leather – it was not to cost more than £4 10s. The local press recorded that the corps drilled at the Corn Exchange.
From the time of his appointment until his death Charles was enthusiastically involved in the Rifles. In May of 1861 the Cambridge Chronicle and Journal reported that forty men, headed by the band marched from Ely to Soham and that “On reaching the Red Lion Inn, at that place, they were regaled with roast and boiled meat and all sorts of good things, at the cost of Ensign Harlock.” Later that summer the same newspaper reported on an event at Sutton-in-the-Isle held on 31st July at the home of the Corps Captain. The day's activities centred on a shooting competition but there was also much good food to be had and at dinner there followed a long series of toasts. Called on to reply to the toast to the Army, Navy and Volunteers Charles said of his men “If they were ever called upon to face an enemy their firing would be as effective as has been the shooting this day.” This statement was greeted by loud cheering. Later in the year on a more sombre occasion Charles marched with his fellow officers and fifty five men to Ely Cathedral for the memorial service to Prince Albert, the Prince Consort who had died on 14th December.
There were similar reports in the press throughout 1862 with competitions and a full social calendar dominating the corps' activities although there was too the strict rule that men should attend Company Drill every Thursday at 7 pm. In the press there was much praise for the Corps band and its growing involvement in the life of the city and surrounding villages. Continuing the tradition of generosity expected of officers Charles presented in July 1863 a silver tankard to be an annually awarded prize in the competitions between non-commissioned officers and privates. The local press was of the opinion that the tankard was of “a very handsome design and of the value of 15 guineas”.
From the time of his appointment until his death Charles was enthusiastically involved in the Rifles. In May of 1861 the Cambridge Chronicle and Journal reported that forty men, headed by the band marched from Ely to Soham and that “On reaching the Red Lion Inn, at that place, they were regaled with roast and boiled meat and all sorts of good things, at the cost of Ensign Harlock.” Later that summer the same newspaper reported on an event at Sutton-in-the-Isle held on 31st July at the home of the Corps Captain. The day's activities centred on a shooting competition but there was also much good food to be had and at dinner there followed a long series of toasts. Called on to reply to the toast to the Army, Navy and Volunteers Charles said of his men “If they were ever called upon to face an enemy their firing would be as effective as has been the shooting this day.” This statement was greeted by loud cheering. Later in the year on a more sombre occasion Charles marched with his fellow officers and fifty five men to Ely Cathedral for the memorial service to Prince Albert, the Prince Consort who had died on 14th December.
There were similar reports in the press throughout 1862 with competitions and a full social calendar dominating the corps' activities although there was too the strict rule that men should attend Company Drill every Thursday at 7 pm. In the press there was much praise for the Corps band and its growing involvement in the life of the city and surrounding villages. Continuing the tradition of generosity expected of officers Charles presented in July 1863 a silver tankard to be an annually awarded prize in the competitions between non-commissioned officers and privates. The local press was of the opinion that the tankard was of “a very handsome design and of the value of 15 guineas”.
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Charles died in an accident on the river on 5th August 1863. He had always enjoyed rowing on the Ouse and in the early summer of 1863 had had a small boat built – the press later described it either as a rowing boat or an outrigger. According to the Cambridge Independent Press of 8th August he had, on the evening of the 5th, made his way along the river and had just passed the railway bridge when one of his oars became entangled in the dense weeds and the boat seemed likely to capsize. Jumping into the river to try and save the situation, Charles found himself trapped and unable to extricate himself. The Independent Press said:
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“Several people who were standing by witnessed the accident but on account of the danger which would arise from going to his rescue, not one answered to the screams for help which emanated three times from the drowning man. The scene was inexpressibly distressing.” |
By the time medical aid arrived Charles was already dead and an inquest held the following morning brought in a verdict of “Accidental drowning”. The same newspaper, echoing comments made by the Coroner at the inquest, was scathing in its condemnation both of those who had witnessed the accident and of the state of the river:
“The lamentable accident has caused great consternation in the city .. surely some effort might have been made by the bye-standers to rescue the drowning man .. could not someone have swam to the boat and pushed it towards him so that he might have clung to that till assistance could have been secured? To us there seems to have been a strange lack of heroism or even common humanity for people to stand by .. without the slightest effort made for his rescue .. We presume that this river, so choked with weeds that an expert swimmer and a strong man could not extricate himself when entangled with them will now be cleansed.”
The funeral took place on the 10th with the Independent Press reporting it in full and lamenting the accident as “one of those dispensations of Providence which it pleases the Almighty to inflict upon mankind” - which is an interesting illustration of the nineteenth century view of calamity. There was, however, no doubting the depth of feeling that caused, again in the words of the Independent Press, “a deep gloom .. in this city”. The funeral procession lined up at 12 noon. Leading it were members of the Rifle Corps with rifles reversed. Behind them came tradesmen of the city, four abreast and followed by two coaches containing legal and medical attendants and undertakers. Then came the hearse accompanied by the non-commissioned officers of the Rifle Corps and behind it mourning coaches carrying members of the Harlock family. Bringing up the rear were the employees of the brewery, twelve Riflemen without rifles and cross belts and the tenants of Messrs Harlock.
With the Corps Band in attendance the procession made its way through the city to the cemetery where the Corps chaplain, the Revd W.E.Dickson, read the Funeral Service. The Independent Press said:
With the Corps Band in attendance the procession made its way through the city to the cemetery where the Corps chaplain, the Revd W.E.Dickson, read the Funeral Service. The Independent Press said:
“The Volunteers .. fired three volleys over their lamented officer which terminated one of the most melancholy occasions the corps have been present at, their Ensign having been the first one who has died since the formation of the corps. Thus closed the career of a young man who, a few days previous, was in the full enjoyment of health and vigour and great sympathy is felt for the family who have sustained such an irrevocable loss by an unfortunate calamity.”
One Ely resident at the time was Richard Ramsay Fielder, a lawyer with family links to an old firm in the City of London but better remembered as the colourful “uncrowned King of Upware”. He was a prolific writer of what passed for poetry and, in all probability knowing Charles he was moved to write an Elegy which appeared in the press. It is wonderfully illustrative of how the mid-Victorians viewed death and it is worth quoting , though perhaps not in full:
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Prepare to die!
How often said, With lingering dread, Prepare to die. How swift is death! An hour before Who dreams his door Yawns Underneath? The slightest thing, A floating weed, A trifling need, Extinction bring. Oh, then, prepare! Let morn and eve At least receive Their meed of prayer. .. and so on for several more verses all with the message of being prepared for death. It can only be hoped that the family found some comfort in it though their notices thanking people for their attendance at the funeral and their kind words do not anywhere make mention of it. |
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Charles was buried in Grave No. A878 where his impressive gravestone is still in place. Nearby lie other members of the Harlock family including his brother Ebenezer and his nephew Frank Litchfield Harlock and members of their families.
A POSTSCRIPT
Nearly thirty years after these events an account appeared in the Journal of the Society for Psychical Research (April 1892) in which John Titterton (1830-1917) of Ely described an experience of his own which took place at the time of Charles' death. Titterton's narrative is of more than usual interest because he was a figure of some importance in the Ely of his day. Journalist, photographer, artist, astronomer and archaeologist he represented the Victorian ideal of the well-educated gentlemanly all-round man of learning. In the 1860s he set up with his friend Canon William Selwyn an observatory within the Cathedral precincts and from there they took photographs of the sun with Selwyn's Heliautograph which are still admired and collected today. By the Society for Psychical Research's standards he was an outstanding witness and when interviewed he recounted the following:
“It was on the 4th of August, 1863, a beautiful calm evening. I was fishing from a boat on the Ouse, a mile or so below Ely. I had been much troubled with floating weeds, and rested from the amusement to look around. A few hundred yards away I saw an outrigged skiff coming down stream, handled, evidently, by a tyro whose difficulties were by no means lessened by the condition of the stream. As it neared me I saw it was a gentleman with whom I had some acquaintance, Mr. Charles Theodore Harlock, a partner with his brother in a large brewery. Seeing me, he came alongside and we chatted for some time. " You are very uneasy in your boat, and the weeds are dangerous for you," I said, "can you swim ? " " No," he replied, " but I am all right; I shall get on better soon." We parted, and I still watched the awkward looking roll of his craft as he went on his way. The whole thing had passed quite out of my mind. The next evening [Wednesday, August 5th, 1863] I was pursuing my usual sport, accompanied by a man named John Taylor, a labourer, who generally punted the boat for me. The weeds were less troublesome, and the evening was delightful, and the water smooth as glass. Having finished my sport, my man punted me slowly homewards as I smoked my pipe, for smoker I am, but a drinker of strong drinks I am not, and my health has for very many years been perfect. I watched the fish as they darted from beneath the boat in the clear water. I saw we were approaching something unusual in the water, and there, about two feet below the surface, I saw the soles of two stockinged feet. The colour was a blue-grey. They were the feet of Mr. Harlock, as I saw them in the straps of the stretcher, without his boots. I sprang to my feet and seized an extra punting pole I always carried. " For God's sake, stop, Jack," I shouted, as I got back to the spot where I had seen the feet. " There is a drowned man here." We searched until we were tired, and found nothing, yet I saw what I describe so clearly that nothing I remember is so clear to me as that. The time was half-past seven. As I walked through the streets on my way home I saw knots of people standing about. "Has anything occurred?" I asked of some men. "Yes," replied one of them, "Mr. Charles Harlock is drowned." "When?" I inquired. "It was half-past seven this evening," he replied. I cannot describe the shock it gave me. The accident happened fully three miles from where I saw those upturned feet. Taylor is living and will well remember the circumstance.”
John Taylor later affirmed Titterton's story although there is no indication in his narrative that he saw anything out of the ordinary in the water.
Whether or not there was anything supernatural involved in John Titterton's experience is impossible to know. His scientific background gives some credence to his story but it has to be seen against the backdrop of this period being the 'golden age' of psychical research and the quest for evidence of life after death. It is, of course, of interest but perhaps more pertinent is the information to be gleaned from the first part of the narrative. First, according to Titterton, Charles was a 'tyro' – an inexperienced beginner – in his new boat and was finding manoeuvring on the river difficult. Second, Charles told him that he could not swim. This is a very different picture from the experienced oarsman and strong swimmer described in the 1863 newspapers but it goes a long way to explaining why what seems to have been a minor upset on the river went so dreadfully wrong.
Whether or not there was anything supernatural involved in John Titterton's experience is impossible to know. His scientific background gives some credence to his story but it has to be seen against the backdrop of this period being the 'golden age' of psychical research and the quest for evidence of life after death. It is, of course, of interest but perhaps more pertinent is the information to be gleaned from the first part of the narrative. First, according to Titterton, Charles was a 'tyro' – an inexperienced beginner – in his new boat and was finding manoeuvring on the river difficult. Second, Charles told him that he could not swim. This is a very different picture from the experienced oarsman and strong swimmer described in the 1863 newspapers but it goes a long way to explaining why what seems to have been a minor upset on the river went so dreadfully wrong.
