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Updated: June 14, 2025
Even to-day, as you look away from the train, there is little sign of life, save the sail of a distant wherry as it makes sluggishly for Norwich or Beccles, as it goes either into the Waveney or the Yare; or the gray wing of the heron as it flies heavily along the marsh; and that is all.
No one thought anything more about it until one fine afternoon in May, 1915, when Maria Beccles walked unexpectedly into the drawing-room of Wellings Park, while Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore were at tea. "My dear Edith," she said to her astounded hostess, who had not seen her for fifteen years.
"Unless in speaking of her to others?" He seemed really to wish to know. Vanderbank was but too ready to satisfy him. "I dare say we seem to you a vulgar lot of people. That's not the way, I can see, you speak of ladies at Beccles." "Oh if you laugh at me !" And his visitor turned off. "Don't threaten me," said Vanderbank, "or I WILL send away the cab. Of course I know what you mean.
Her father had been a tanner in the Suffolk town of Beccles, where her mother still resided, and where Miss Elmy paid her occasional visits. The long journey from Aldeburgh to Beccles was often taken by Crabbe, and the changing features of the scenery traversed were reproduced, his son tells us, many years afterwards in the beautiful tale of The Lover's Journey.
And then, had she gone, he would not have known where to bestow her. For it was now understood throughout Bungay, and the news had spread to Beccles, that old Farmer Ruggles had sworn that his granddaughter should never again be received at Sheep's Acre Farm. The squire on his return home heard all the news from his own housekeeper.
But the Suffolk coast does not show all loss. In the north much land has been gained in the region of Beccles, which was at one time close to the sea, and one of the finest spreads of shingle in England extends from Aideburgh to Bawdry. This shingle has silted up many a Suffolk port, but it has proved a very effectual barrier against the inroads of the sea.
Siddons, with whom an old Dissenting minister—the Rev. S. Sloper, of Beccles, whom I can well remember—contracted quite an intimacy. She had already passed the zenith of her celebrity. ‘Providence,’ writes my friend, Mr.
There he was met with by a Mr. Brightley, a printer and publisher, who, originally a schoolmaster at Beccles, had suggested to young Childs that he had better come and help him at Bungay than waste his time behind a counter. Fortunately for them both the young man acceded to the proposal, and travelled all over England driving tandem, and doing everywhere what we should now call a roaring trade.
Then one afternoon came Sir Anthony Fenimore to see me, and with a view to obtaining either my advice or my sympathy, reopened the story of his daughter Althea found drowned in the canal eleven months before. What he considered a most disconcerting light had just been cast on the tragedy by Maria Beccles. This lady was Lady Fenimore's sister.
I wanted to ask you to read some of the Northern Ballads too; but you shut the book. I must tell you. She at least brings a fine head and heart to the bargain worthy of a better market. But it is to be, and I dare say you will honestly wish we may do well. Keep the book as long as you will. It is useless to me. I shall be to be heard of through Geldeston Hall, Beccles.
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