The History of Margaret Catchpole, a Suffolk Girl

by Richard Cobbold

It was a lucky thing for Mr. and Mrs. Leader that they went home as they did that very night, for not long after their arrival home began that severe winter and deep snow which formed one of the most remarkable features in the history of the climate of England.

It would be foreign to the present narrative to dwell upon the events of that particular season, further than to refer to the great exertions made by persons of all ranks and conditions, above actual distress, to support the famishing poor. Houses were established in different parts of the town of Ipswich for the public distribution of soup, coals, and blankets, and various families agreed to furnish supplies for the various days of the week.

Margaret was now as busy in the kitchen as she had been in the nursery, for at this time the cook of the family returned home ill, and no one else could be found so apt as Margaret to supply her place.

It was at this memorable season that her aptitude for this situation was discovered, which led to such a change in her condition, as future pages will record. A servant was soon found for the nursery, who supplied her place, and she became the active cook of the family. In such a large domestic establishment as that of Mr. Cobbold, the cook was a person of the utmost consequence; and although there was a regular housekeeper who acted as an intervening link between the parlour and the kitchen, yet Mrs. Cobbold was by no means so unacquainted with the proceedings of her house, as to be found negligent of a due supervision over every department.

In the new place Margaret had undertaken at the earnest request of her mistress, her active powers of benevolence were now called into existence. The feeling manner in which she represented to her fellow-servants the destitution of thousands around them, and the great sin there was in the least waste; the strong necessity now became a duty in every one to deny themselves some portion of their daily bread, that those who were starving might have a share; made a powerful impression upon the domestics of that establishment. At this time, though a greater allowance was made on account of the provisions given away by this affluent family, yet such was the economy in the kitchen, and the honest, self-satisfactory privation exercised by the whole house, that not the least waste was made, and the accustomed expenditure was very little increased. The poor, however, were bountifully supplied, and Margaret’s name was as justly praised below stairs, as, in past days, it had been above. Little did she think that her activity, economy, and management, which a sense of duty and charity had called into action, would fix her in the kitchen at such an increase of wages, as, comparatively, seemed to her like coming into a little fortune. She had now become the head of all the domestics, from having been the servant of all. She had an increase of toil, but she had a help under her. There was dinner for the nursery, dinner for the kitchen, dinner for the parlour, and that which is now almost obsolete, a hot supper for all the house. But what is work to one who is strong and willing, and ready and desirous of giving satisfaction?

Time, fully occupied, passes on rapidly, and Margaret was now looked upon with respect by the whole house. What a pity that that respect should ever have been blighted, or that any circumstances should have interfered with that peaceful enjoyment which she seemed at this time to experience, and which in after years she never forgot! In leaving the nursery, she left that frequent intercourse with her mistress, and consequently that continued mental improvement which she had gradually imbibed. She was not now under her immediate eye; she seldom heard that sweet voice of approbation, pleasing beyond all expression from such a mistress.

It was one of those singular coincidences which happened in her eventful life, that on the celebrated 1st of June, 1794, her lover, William Laud, distinguished himself in Lord Howe’s victory over the French, and was one of the seamen appointed to bring home a splendid prize to Portsmouth; and that Margaret herself, on the very same day, distinguished herself in an aquatic feat, which would have been no disgrace to a British seaman to have performed, and which exhibited a degree of courage and presence of mind, truly wonderful in a female.

In the garden belonging to the mansion at St. Margaret’s Green was a very deep pond, with turfed sides, which were sloping and steep, so that the gardener had to descend to the water by a flight of six steps. Formerly it had been a handsome square pond, with edges neatly kept, and surrounded by alpine strawberry-beds. At the period of this tale, one side opened into the adjoining meadow, and half of that extensive garden was laid down to grass. To this day, the two stately weeping willows may be seen dipping their pensile edges into the pond, though time has lopped off many an arm, and somewhat curtailed them of their beauty. At that time, when Margaret was cook at St. Margaret’s Green, these trees were the ornaments of the exterior of the town, and to have made a sketch from the hill, on the Woodbridge Road, without including them, would have been to have robbed the town of Ipswich of one of its most prominent and pleasing features of landscape beauty. They were very lofty, though pendent, and in the month of June, might be justly styled magnificent. Hundreds of their boughs kissed the water with their thin, taper points. The girl who had the care of the children had been often warned not to go near the edge of the road.

On this 1st of June, 1794, Margaret had entered the garden to gather some herbs, and had scarcely closed the gate before she heard a sudden shriek of distress. The voices of the children struck upon her, from the centre of the garden. She ran down the path, and there she saw the whole group standing and screaming at the edge of the pond, and the nursemaid completely at her wits’ end with fright. Master Henry had been running away from his sisters, who were pursuing him down the path, and having turned his head round to look at them, he did not perceive his danger. His foot caught the edge of the grass border which surrounded the pond, and he was precipitated head-foremost into the deepest part of it. In a moment he was seen plunging and screaming for help, but all his efforts only tended to carry him still further towards the middle of the pond: he must inevitably have been drowned, had not Margaret at that moment providentially entered the garden.

Margaret’s astonishing presence of mind enabled her to resolve in an instant what it was best to do, and her heroic courage caused her not to shrink from doing it; she ordered the nurserymaid to run with all speed to the stables for a ladder and rope, and then creeping along the strongest arm of the weeping willow that spread itself over the centre of the pond, and going as far as she could towards the child, she grasped a handful of those pendent branches which dipped themselves into the water, and swinging herself by her right arm, into the pond, and stretching out her left to the utmost, she seized the child by the collar of his little jacket, and held him above the water until the assistance she sent for arrived.