By the will of Sir Bartholomew Rede, citizen and goldsmith, also an alderman of London, made in October, 1505, in the twenty-first of Henry the seventh, the annual sum of ten pounds was bequeathed for the foundation of a free grammar-school, which is paid to the master by the goldsmith’s company.
The houses in general are indifferent and the rents very high; yet tolerable accommodation is to be found for strangers, from one to three guineas per week, some of which command a fine view of the sea, and are extremely desirable.
The want of a large and well-conducted Inn is amongst those few things which are chiefly to be regretted by those who pay a visit to Cromer. Parties are frequently formed for an excursion to a watering place by those who have neither time, nor inclination, to stay sufficiently long to make it worth their while to engage lodgings; of course they complain of the want of accommodation. The consequence is, they become disgusted with the place, and not unfrequently, I fear, leave it with a determination of coming no more, but also by describing to others the inconveniences they have experienced, deter them from making trial of a place where their neighbours have fared so indifferently.
Unfortunately the trade to an Inn-keeper (in this and I suppose, indeed, it is the same in most small bathing places) is almost entirely confined to the summer season; therefore, unless the influx of company at that time was sufficient to carry him through the expences of the winter also, I very much fear such an Inn as is necessary for the situation could not answer. However, I should think the trial of it, though hazardous, might probably prove successful: with such an addition, Cromer would, perhaps, in the course of a few years, stand a chance of rivalling some of the more celebrated bathing places for the number, as well as consequence of its visitors; without it, it must to a certainty remain contented with its present acquisitions.
Lobsters, crabs, whitings, cod-fish and herrings, are all caught here in the finest perfection; the former are always eagerly sought after by all who arrive; indeed, coming to Cromer and eating lobsters are things nearly synonymous.
The lower class of people are chiefly supported by fishing; the herrings which are caught here are cured in the town, a house within three or four years having been erected for that purpose, which, I believe, answers well both to the proprietor and the fishermen, who now find an immediate market for any quantity they may bring in.
The fishery, independent of the pleasure we receive from the consideration of the support it brings to a numerous, hardy, and in many instances, an industrious set of people, is not without its effect in a picturesque point of view. The different preparations for a voyage; the groupes of figures employed in different ways,—some carrying a boat down to the water’s edge,—some carrying nets, oars, masts and sails; while others, in a greater state of forwardness are actually pulling through the breakers, form a scene of the most busy, various and pleasing kind.
The return, also, of the fishermen from this little voyage, frequently affords a scene truly interesting; particularly in the herring season, which being in the autumnal equinox, is liable to wind, which sometimes suddenly bringing a considerable swell upon the beach, renders the coming in of the boats both difficult and dangerous; a circumstance which although it cannot fail in a great measure to take from the pleasure we should experience in being witness to such a scene unconnected with danger, yet the different attitudes of the boat as it is impelled over the billows, the exertions of the crew, the agitation of the water, and the expression marked in the countenances of the surrounding spectators awaiting their arrival—are all of them incidents so highly picturesque, that we can but behold them with admiration.
At one moment the little bark followed by a mountain of a sea hanging over its stern, every instant menacing destruction—the next thrown up aloft, ready to be precipitated into the gaping gulph below; alternately keeping the spectators and crew, trembling between fear and hope, till at last some friendly wave with dreadful force hurls it upon the shore. [9]
Those faces (for upon such occasions the beach is always covered with beholders) which were but the moment before the most strongly expressive of the feelings of wife, mother, children or friend, under the most torturing anxiety for the safety of those who are most nearly allied to them, by the ties of affection or of interest, are in an instant changed to smiles and tears of joy, to thanks for their safety, and almost in the same breath to enquiries about the success of the voyage.