Category: cobbwebs-news-and-views

His father, a relatively junior banker at the time, lost his first wife, albeit after the birth of a son and a daughter, only 6 years into the marriage.  He married a second time and within 18 months this wife and their son were dead too.  Marriage and parenthood were not going well.

Charles Cobbold, or Charlie as he was always known, was the first child of his father’s third marriage.  He was a fine strong baby with a healthy mother and only 6 years later a fine strong sister joined him.  Things were much better.  Charlie did well at Bradfield and won himself a place at Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge where he took up rowing, and won his oar in the 2^nd May Boat in 1913; that oar later being donated to the Caius Boat Club.

Motivated, as many young men were, by that deep sense of injustice, Charlie volunteered immediately after the outbreak of war.  He served 11 months as a Trooper with the Hampshire Carabiniers Yeomanry before being commissioned into the Royal Field Artillery (RFA) in August 1915 and being posted to the front line as an Officer of 32^nd Brigade on November 18^th.

Some of his letters ’home’ have survived and they tell of a man who, despite being responsible for medium calibre guns and howitzers in the front line, and enduring wet, rat infested quarters, managed to care for his charger, bolster his men’s morale and remain deeply attached to his elder sister and her family.

Imagine the horror at home when the dreaded news arrived that he had been killed on the front line on 3^rd October 1916.  The son and heir of a happy marriage destroyed in an instant.  A father’s dream shattered!  His Commanding Officer wrote of him: ‘We all liked him so much.  He had an extraordinary disregard of danger, and always set an excellent example to the men, with whom he was very popular.  His last words to his men were, “Don’t take any notice of the shells, they’re only strays and not meant for you.”

Charlie is commemorated on the Thiepval Memorial in France, at St. John’s Church, Rownham and in the Chapel at Caius College, Cambridge.

Anthony Cobbold
March 2013

This is a remarkable story of a regrettably short but truly action-packed life.

Sometime in 1923, Campbell joined the Royal Air Force and on 24^th January 1924 he was appointed a Pilot Officer and attached to a Bombing Squadron at Martlesham Heath, close to Woodbridge, Suffolk, where he had been at school.  He quickly earned a reputation as a highly skilled pilot which led to his attachment to the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough.  He arrived when the RAE was working on an Airship Development Programme aimed at producing an airborne aircraft carrier.

In October 1926 Campbell and Flying Officer (later Air Vice-Marshal) Ragg took part in an experiment to launch two parasite Gloster Grebe fighters from retractable trapezes under the R33 airship.  Campbell was released first at an altitude of 2,500 ft and after diving for about 100 ft levelled out.  The Times reported that ‘The aeroplane, with her engine running dropped like a stone and then regaining control, MacKenzie-Richards performed a series of stunts, looping-the-loop, rolling and flying upside down’ whilst Flight recorded that the plane ‘gambolled gaily in the air as if glad to be free, at last, from the maternal apron strings.’  There was difficulty getting Ragg’s engine started but, he too flew freely, and both landed safely.  Later, both pilots’ Grebes were successfully released, flown and reattached to the airship using skyhooks.  Given the rudimentary nature of flying technology at that time the skill and bravery of those two pilots is exemplary.

As a member of the RAE Aero Club, Campbell won, from scratch, the first race of the day on 4^th June 1927 at Ensbury Park Racecourse near Bournemouth flying a de Havilland Humming Bird, a single-seat ultralight monoplane, at 73.5 mph.  Sadly, due to two accidents that Whitsun weekend there were to be no more air races at Ensbury Park.  Two months later he was successful again, this time at the Hucknall Torkard aerodrome in Nottinghamshire where, starting from scratch he gained third place in the Papplewick Stakes flying the same Humming Bird aircraft (G-EBQP) over the 8.5 mile single-lap course.  His prize?  £10.

Campbell was killed in an experimental night flying accident at East Grinstead on 9^th November 1927.  Leaving Croydon at 5.30 pm with Professor Green as his observer he set course for Farnborough but found that his compass was about 30° out and, unable to find Farnborough they decided to return to Croydon.  When they estimated they were overhead they lost height but were unable to see lights or anything they recognised.  With only 20 minutes of fuel remaining Campbell briefed Green on how to use his parachute whilst looking as best they could for a field in which to crash land.  Unable to find one, Campbell turned the aircraft and pushed Green out so that he was clear before pulling the ripcord, thus ensuring his safe landing.  Campbell’s body was found only about 200 yards from the crashed machine.  His parachute was open and the Coroner concluded that the airplane was already too low when Campbell left the craft, his parachute not having had time to deploy effectively.  He is buried at Great Yeldham, Essex.

Ironically, he had been married for less than 3 months but fortunately his wife was pregnant and his daughter was born at Aldeburgh the following year.

Please help Mrs Bowry to establish the ownership of the Manor House on St. Margaret’s Green, Ipswich between 1660 and 1700.  This is before the Cobbolds lived there.  She is researching her ancestor Nathaniel Bacon MP.  If you can help please contact the Trust.

Peter Cobbold (#533 on the tree) who was Professor of Geology at Rennes University, France, specialising in Plate Tectonics and is now (since 2011) an Emeritus Research Fellow there, has been selected for an entry in ‘Marquis’s Who’s Who in the World’ 2013.  You can go to his website via the Trust’s ‘LINKS’

Susan M Roberts, Professor of Geography, University of Kentucky,is thanked for a lot of information on the Robinson and Cameron families which feature in our family tree.

Thanks also for similar help from Chris Heath in Canada and Simon Toynbee, on the wealthy Victorian industrialist Heath family about whom we will write a Cobbweb in due course.

On a lighter note…Rex Parkin

(#553 on the tree) who had a ‘tailors’ dummy’ figure was clothed entirely free by his tailor, Plenderleith, whilst up at Cambridge, on condition that admirers of his sartorial elegance were steered towards their shop on King’s Parade!

ANZAC Day is a day of National Remembrance in Australia and New Zealand to honour the members of the Australia and New Zealand Army Corps who fought at Gallipoli and all those who served and died in military operations for their countries. This year marks the 98^th anniversary of the landings on 25^th April at what is now known as ANZAC Cove. This campaign is widely recognised as the first major action by Australian and New Zealand troops and it was one in which their losses exceeded 11,000 dead. It was also the occasion for the epic swim to shore in total darkness by General Freyberg VC (#3174 on the tree) in advance of further landings. As a British born New Zealander, Freyberg who later became Governor-General of New Zealand participated in ANZAC Day celebrations every year for the rest of his life. For him and for all our family members with antipodean connections it is right that we pay tribute.

I have selected a poem entitled Gallipoli by Staff Sergeant Sydney Bolitho of the 6^th Battalion Australian Imperial Force (AIF) written in the trenches at Gaba Tepe which was at the southern end of ANZAC Cove. Shortly after writing this poem, Sydney Bolitho received serious injuries and was repatriated but whilst recovering he contracted tuberculosis from which he died in 1919. He was buried with full military honours at the White Hills Cemetery in Bendigo, Victoria, Australia.

Gallipoli

 

The marriage of Capt. John Murray (Ivan) Cobbold (1897-1944 #448 in the tree) to Lady Blanche Cavendish (1898-1987 #448) was the reason for a great gathering at Holy Wells (the spelling Holywells is modern) on Friday July 25^th 1919.  Amongst the hundreds of tenants and employees invited were Mr. & Mrs. H E Osborn who were the publicans at The Grapes in Regent Street, Ipswich.  Nearly 100 years later their granddaughter, Mrs Taylor has kindly given the Trust some souvenirs of the occasion.

The festivities ran from 12.30 to dusk and included lunch at 1.0’clock with presentations (presumably of wedding presents), games during the afternoon and tea at 5.30.  Our pictures show the bridal couple with the groom in the uniform of a twice-wounded subaltern in the Scots Guards; the invitation; a group of the tenants and brewery employees; and a barrel race and pillow fight in progress.

We have been unable to find a picture of The Grapes which Mrs Taylor remembers seeing as a child and which she says was replaced by Council Offices.

The next festivities at Holy Wells took place just 4 years later in July 1923 to celebrate the bi-centenary of the Cliff Brewery and these will be the subject of another Cobbweb next month.

And it came to pass that in the land of Broughton that is known for its Church, there lived a beautiful hound of great lineage by the name of Zebo; and behold it was found that she was heavily with young.  Now when her time was accomplished she brought forth a fine litter of puppies of which one was destined to join the tribe of Cobbold in the High borough of Wycombe where she was much anticipated by two maidens, the fair Jude and the auburn Nell, both of tender years.  But, upon her arrival there arose in the household a great tempest as to how to decide upon a name in which all could rejoice.  Master, Mistress and children were all sorely vexed as to how to christen this new member of the Cobbold family.  Then suddenly the clouds parted and a great light shone forth which decreed absolutely that she be called, henceforth, by one name and one name only:                                         

TOLLY COBBOLD

Sylvia Stoltz

Before the ink was dry on last month’s Cobbweb “I’ve still got my marbles” we received the good news that the Church of St. Andrew in Little Glemham, which is Grade 1 listed, has received a grant of £115,000 from the Heritage Lottery Fund.  The local paper reports that the money will be used to repair the tower and a mausoleum built for the North family who lived at Glemham Hall during the 18thy Century.

Edgar George Gubbins & Dorothy Chevallier Cobbold

The Trust is grateful to Virginia van der Lande (#2008 in the tree) for the gift of a copy of a photograph album entitled ‘Bexhill-on-Sea 1916’ covering a holiday taken by the family of Edgar Gubbins (ca1873-1958 #345) and Dorothy Chevallier Cobbold (1873-1957 #344)

Surgeon-General Alexander Dallas

We are also grateful to Juliet Fullerton in Canada (#7986), a 5 x gt. granddaughter of ‘Big’ John Cobbold (1745-1835 #56) for information, particularly about the family of Surgeon-General Alexander Morrison Dallas (1830-1912 #6324)

Margaret Catchpole

Richard Cobbold’s Victorian best selling heroine continues to fascinate!  The Trust has just given permission for his watercolour of Margaret stealing John Cobbold’s horse to be reproduced in ‘Aldeburgh a Portrait’ to be published by Antique Collectors’ Club in June in time for the Aldeburgh Festival.

Leslie Rhodes

The Trust continues to be most grateful to Leslie Rhodes who voluntarily undertakes the huge amount of basic research necessary to continually expand and update the family tree.  We repeatedly get the impression that the family tree is the part of the website most appreciated by visitors to the site.  Our thanks to all those who have contributed over the years. 

Back in 2008 (see “Features Archive” – October) we wrote about W N (Nuts) Cobbold (1863-1922; #289 in the tree) who played football for England between 1883 and 1887.  As well as being an outstanding sportsman he was a classicist who ran a crammer at West Wratting Park, near Cambridge, to help young men gain commissions in the Army before and during WWI.  When not coaching the school’s football, cricket and tennis teams he chose to write verse, unusually, in Latin as well as English!

The Trust has a number of his verses and, in the absence of a willing publisher, has decided to print one a month in Cobbwebs.  For our first series we have chosen domestic topics but will probably move on to his military rhymes next year to mark the centenary of the start of WWI.

Whilst his odes show great affection for his pupils and his family it seems that their Seelyham, Ghillie, was ‘top dog’ as we shall see in later excerpts.  We don’t for one minute claim that his poetry is great but we do enjoy the very English, self deprecating way it brings a smile to our lips. 

My wife on the making of Odes.

Alas! Alas! I’m very sad,
My husband dear ’s fast going mad,
He writes an ode each single day,
Did I say ode? That’s not his way:
Each day he writes twelve odes at least,
But what’s far worst (he is a beast)
He makes me listen to them all,
Tho’ well he knows how much they pall.
His odes are here, his odes are there:
His odes, his odes are everywhere;
There’s nothing else one ever hears,
I’d give a lot to close my ears.
These odious odes, they ne’er will cease,
Till kindly death doth him release.
He’s odes on dogs and odes on war,
And odes which like a torrent pour
From off his pen, he’s done four score
In just three days and thirsts for more;
What can I do? Ah, wretched me!
I soon shall be as mad as he.

This narrative poem, subtitled An African Story was written by Eliza Knipe (#58 in the tree) in 1787 when she was 23 years old and 4 years before she became John Cobbold’s second wife.  Her young idealistic mind revolted fiercely against slavery.

Atomboka is described as ‘the peerless Chief, high towering in his might’ and Omaza as ‘The dark-brown beauty often praised in song, herself well skilled to throw the certain lance.’  They fight a fierce battle in defence of their freedom to the cry ‘Lift high the axe’ but they are defeated.  The poem finishes:

 

A pond’rous chain they twin’d, and on a car
Of woven canes, beset with thorns,
In pomp barbaric, dragg’d them o’er the plain.
They heav’d no sigh; with patient scorn they brav’d
Insult and pain: the instruments of death
Pleas’d their glad fight; and on the tort’ring fire
They smil’d serene, and hail’d its rising blaze.

From a tall rock, a warrior-youth descry’d
A gallant ship that, bounding o’er the waves,
Spread her white wings, and hasted to the shore.
He gave the well-known sign. – On ev’ry side
Calm silence spread; exulting clamour ceas’d;
Av’rice prevailed: down to the sandy beach
They led their patient captives: soon the ship
Arriv’d, and paid their price. – Two changing moons,
Oe’r the wide earth, had spread their silver light,
E’er, from surrounding hills, the wretched train
To slav’ry doom’d were brought. – In silent woe
Full many an hour proud Atomboka spent;
While sad Omaza, with heart-rending groans,
Indulg’d the keener transports of despair.

The vessel spread her sails. – The distant shore
Now lessen’d on the view. – Still ev’ning rob’d
The skies in sober grey; and the red light
Of parting day scarce ting’d the western verge
Of the slow rolling ocean.  High in east,
The orb of night with paler radiance shone
And silver’d o’er the waves. – From the close hold
Sad Atomboka and Omaza stole:
The massy chain with steady care they bore,
That not a clanking link, with tell-tale noise,
Betray’d their flight. – Silent and unobserv’d
They pass’d the sleepy watch, and to the side
Of the tall vessel sped; there, stooping, view’d
The passing waves with many a sorr’wing look:
Then low, in fearful whispers, thus explain’d
The mournful thoughts that rose in either breast.

Atomboka

See, my Omaza, how the waters glide,
In sportive mock’ry by: they do not know
The harshness of captivity: No pow’r
Can fix a chain on them, or make them leave
Their native bed: but we are doom’d to roam
Far from all social joys: perhaps, beneath
Inclement skies, to toil at the harsh will
Of a capricious master, or endure
The painful scourge, inflicted by a wretch
Whose soul enjoys a fellow-creature’s pangs.

Omaza

O never will we yield to such a fate;
No rather, from some high and craggy rock,
We’ll dash ourselves, and, in the barren vale,
Feed the fell tigers and devouring birds.

Atomboka

Thy fancy raves; where shall the craggy rock
Be found, when, chain’d to some strong stake, we feel
The lash of pow’r? methinks the gentle waves
Invite us to repose, and, murm’ring soft,
Say, ‘Rest, O mortals, from the toils of life!’

Omaza

‘Tis greatly thought! Borne on the rolling main,
We soon shall reach that blissful island where
Our fathers’ spirits rest, and with them raise
The song of triumph. – Our insulting foes
Shall lose their promis’d vengeance.—

Atomboka

Hark! I hear a ghost’s shrill voice! It chides our dull delay,
And waits to guide us to the happy shore.

Sudden they plung’d, clasp’d in a fond embrace,
And, o’er their heads, the closing waters roll’d.

This fine portrait by Benjamin Wilson (1721-1788) said to be of John Cobbold (1746-1835) and his wife, Elizabeth Clarke presents us with two problems.

Firstly, where is it?  We would like to find out because we would like to do the decent thing and politely ask for permission to reproduce it.  In family history terms it is a very important picture.  We know it was offered for sale with provenance Nancy Lancaster, Ditchley Park, Oxfordshire, by Sothebys as lot 57 in London on 9^th November 1994 but it was unsold and returned to the consignor.  All enquiries since have drawn a blank.  If any visitor to our site is able to shed any light we would be delighted and if, by chance, the owner was to contact us we would be ecstatic!

Secondly, it seems unlikely that the wife portrayed is his second wife as he did not marry her, Elizabeth Clarke (née Knipe), until 1791, some three years after the artist died.  He had married firstly, Elizabeth Wilkinson (1753-1790) in 1773 so possibly the portrait was in celebration of that marriage.

Help!

Anthony Cobbold