A Guide to Cromer and Its Neighbourhood

by Anonymous

The floating-light off Mundesley, twelve miles to the east, may be distinctly seen in the night from the town, where the cliffs are not so lofty as those near the light-house.

Within the last five years the appearance of Cromer, viewed from the beach, has been materially changed. Before that time the undefended cliff alone presented itself to the eye, and the town seemed to stand much further back. A large subscription-room, bath-house, and other edifices, were constructed on the beach and side of the cliff, and apparent distance was given to the whole. At present the jetty appears buried under the town, and the tower of the church to frown over it—this change is owing to the following circumstance:

In the month of February, 1837, an extraordinary high tide occurred, accompanied with a furious gale from the north-west, which washed the whole of the above-mentioned edifices away, and even for a time threatened the destruction of the town and church. For two days, the 17th and 18th of February, the storm continued to rage. The day previous had been particularly fine, and the wind was gentle;—all had retired to rest in apparent security, fearless of the grand but capricious element which rolled near them. In the middle of the night, however, an alarm was given;—the tide was rising to an unprecedented height, threatening to engulph all within its reach. In a few moments all was terror and confusion; the cliff was crowded with spectators, every assistance was afforded to those immediately exposed to the fury of the mighty billows which poured in, and happily the loss of one life alone is to be deplored. This poor man was left in charge of Simons’s bathing-house; he was aroused, but whether he gave no heed to the admonition, or remained too long on the premises, is uncertain. He was borne away by the waters, together with the house, and his body was afterwards picked up at Bacton, near Mundesley, a distance of ten miles.

Morning presented an awful spectacle, and scarcely could the inhabitants recognize their own beach. But the alarm and the danger had not yet subsided; the wind continued to blow from the same quarter with equal violence throughout the day, and the tide was equally high. On the morning of the 18th, the cliff being undermined, fell in, bringing down with it one house; at the same time two vessels were lost, the one off the light-house hill, the other on the western edge of the town. The crew of the former were saved; five of those of the latter perished in an attempt to reach the shore by means of the boat. They were both from South Shields, which place they had left only forty-eight hours before the awful catastrophe occurred. The report of what had happened was speedily circulated through the neighbourhood, and such was the interest that it excited, that the town for many days afterwards was filled with persons anxious to behold the devastation.

From that time till the following year no steps were taken to protect the town from the increasing advance of the sea; but in the year 1838, a proposal was made to erect a safety wall for its defence. Accordingly the inhabitants subjected themselves to a rate in order to defray the expense, and the remainder of the sum estimated was raised by subscription. Those who had property on the cliff, and whose interest was thereby more particularly consulted, were rated at twenty shillings in the pound; others who were more remotely benefited, at ten shillings. It is sincerely wished that the means adopted for the security of the place will fully answer the end; but it is difficult for an inexperienced eye at least, to watch the furious rage of the tide, and knowing what has occurred, not to fear what yet may be.

A breakwater has also been raised as a further security to the place, and on the stability of this much necessarily depends. Whilst this continues firm, there is little to be apprehended; if this were swept away, the breastwork which defends the cliff would be but a slight defence.

The jetty, which formerly projected about seventy yards into the sea, was erected by subscription at the cost of fourteen hundred pounds, in 1822, after the old one had been destroyed by a furious storm. The high tide which we have just recorded did considerable injury likewise to the jetty, an injury which has not yet been entirely repaired. This is the fashionable resort in the evening, the company assembling here, some to enjoy the pure sea breezes, to watch the noble billows as they dash in graceful fury on the beach, the fine spectacle of the setting sun, or the mild splendour of the moon; others to meet their acquaintances, and a few, perhaps, whose discernment of the ridiculous is quicker than that of the sublime, for the exercise of their satirical talents.

This promenade is certainly extremely agreeable. No one who has not witnessed a fine sunset at Cromer, can have any idea of its magnificence: nor is the sunrise less beautiful; but few eyes, it may be presumed, are then open to view it. Cromer, indeed, possesses this double advantage, that the sun both rises and sets in the bosom of the ocean. During the season, a person, who is paid gratuitously, acts as a keeper of the jetty, whose business it is to prevent improper persons from obtruding themselves, and to preserve good order. We know not whether he has the power to forbid the smoking of cigars, but we certainly think that such ought to be the case; and we would add, that we can hardly believe that any real gentleman would require an admonition on such a point. Servants in livery and all common persons are not allowed at this time. On Sunday the jetty is, with just consideration, resigned to the inhabitants of the town.

The beach having a fine firm sand and a level surface, affords excellent sea-bathing, and every accommodation is supplied for the purpose. It is also much frequented when the tide is out, both as a promenade and for a drive. Indeed, the sands present a very gay and animated scene at this time, while the jetty is deserted. The carriage road to the beach is not so good as might be desired; but there are several convenient approaches to the beach and jetty by means of zigzag footpaths cut in the cliff, and terminating by easy staircases. A walk on the beach, whether to the east or the west of the town, is always delightful and interesting. Whether the grand expanse of waters on the one side, its waves breaking in hollow or harmonious melody, and winning us to meditation and calmness,—the stupendous and broken cliffs, forming bold projections, or sinking into shadow, concealing in their breast the spoils of ages,—or the treasures of the pebbly shore be the objects of attraction, there is always enough to amuse, to gratify, and to benefit.

The coast itself is particularly dangerous, in consequence of the violent rising of the surf. No less than four or five lights are stationed between this place and Yarmouth, a distance of only thirty-six miles, to prevent vessels from running into Cromer Bay, which, by the by has received the singular appellation of the Devil’s Throat. Life-boats are kept in readiness to succour the distressed, and nothing is omitted for their preservation which either the skill or courage of the fisherman can effect, or the generous and benevolent encouragement of individuals execute. We would not offend the amiable and much respected lady to whom this latter observation particularly refers, and therefore we abstain from saying more. True benevolence shrinks from all display, and is unconscious of its own merit; but the name and the remembrance of that lady will live long in the hearts of numbers who have been benefited by her liberality, or have witnessed her anxious superintendence at such seasons, accompanied with a fervent wish that she may long live to succour others, and to enjoy the approval of her own conscience.