This, I fear, takes us only a little further, and it has not yet been possible conclusively to pinpoint Mr Smith among the multitude of Nottingham Smiths of his day. In the light of the High Church standpoint of the Nottingham Athenaeum it seems possible that he was the W.H. Smith who was in 1868 founding secretary of the Nottingham branch of the English Church Union. Few facts about this man have, however, come to light. It is also tempting to think that he may have been the William Henry Smith who wrote Notes on the Nottingham Records, published in 1890, and included in his author's preface a quotation from Timothy Green (Elliott James Wheatley,) another Athenaeum contributor.
The December 1861 issue of Nottingham Athenaeum saw Thomas Forman’s association with the magazine come to an end, and it was thereafter printed ‘for the proprietor’ by Charles Truman of Chapel Bar, and published by Charles Wheatley of St Peter’s Gate. A silly squabble enlivened its pages in 1862 after someone actually had the nerve to criticize it. The July number included a humorous piece called ‘How we got up Snowdon,’ recounting the fictional (?) misadventures of four men, rather in the style later employed in Three Men in a Boat. All four portraits were evidently recognizable as local worthies, one of whom was its author. This issue was reviewed in both the Loughborough News and Loughborough Monitor, but while the former was complimentary, the Monitor was rather disparaging of the Snowdon article. The Athenaeum’s response to this mild panning was out of all proportion, alleging that one of the four men depicted had objected to it. This was none other than Thomas Forman, not very subtly disguised in the article as ‘Mr Forms’ the stationer. It went as far as asserting that Forman, who was printer of the Loughborough Monitor had influenced its editor into giving a negative review. Not only this, it claimed that Forman had forbidden any mention of the Nottingham Athenaeum in his own Nottinghamshire Guardian and Nottingham Daily Guardian. Remarkably, all this journalistic storm-in-a-teacup was carried on without Forman or his papers actually being named in print, but with heavy hints and clues as to his identity. In this major falling out between two former allies, the Athenaeum showed itself better at handing out censure than accepting it.
It was mentioned early in this article that the name of its editor, Fred. Webster was not published until his valedictory note at the close of the Nottingham Athenaeum’s separate existence. It was no new thing for Webster (who needs to researched thoroughly, and who deserves an article devoted entirely to him) to conceal his identity in print, and much of his literary output was issued under a variety of noms-de- plume, such as ‘The Brothers Bruff’: ‘Professor Von Trump’: ‘An Old Hand’, and ‘Timon’. He also contributed to the Athenaeum under the name ‘Fitz-green.’ One of Webster's specialities was the political squib, and his titles give a hint of the flavour of his work: Corporation Jeu D 'Esprits: Nuts to be Cracked; respectively dedicated without permission to the Corporation of Noodleton: Harlequin Happy Humbug or The Sayings and Doings of an Immaculate Corporation: Biographia Municipalia.
In all of these political opponents were ruthlessly lampooned, and sometimes grossly insulted. Any present-day councillor or public figure who considers him or herself unfairly roughed up in print should take a look, and see what was dished out around 1860. One squib featured a cabinet in which local notables were thinly disguised, or not disguised at all: with a little knowledge of the period it is possible to identify many of them. Henry Moses Wood, for example, appeared as Sir Wooden Moses, Chief Commissioner of Works, and Alderman William Sylvester as Master of the Rolls - Sylvester was a baker in Clumber Street. Elsewhere William Page was clearly the model for William Folio, while persons who were obviously Richard Birkin and Thomas North lived respectively at Ass-pley Hall and Baseford Hall. Rival newspapers were not spared. One cod advertisement read: ‘Wanted. An Editor, who will be required to write the largest amount of ‘ungrammatical twaddle’ at the shortest possible notice. A gentleman with great ‘lie-abilities’ would be preferred. Apply to the Review Office, Narrow Marsh.’ No doubt the Nottingham Review, a Radical paper, which included what were arguably the finest leading articles of any Nottingham paper, was used to such attacks. Job Bradshaw, respected proprietor of the Nottingham Journal in Pelham Street, was not spared either. In one spoof cabinet we read that: ‘the Hon. Pelham Jobe will take management of the Metropolitan Sewers, his long connexion with an ‘obscure local print,’ having fully qualified him for ‘dirty work’ of any description.’ Bradshaw’s paper had committed the unforgivable sin of following Peel in his conversion to Free Trade.
Far more unpleasant were the gratuitous anti-Semitic jibes directed at Alderman Lewis Heymann in the mock-pantomime Harlequin Happy Humbug and the Coronation Alphabet for 1858-9. ‘Native talent having got so rare: They’ve given us a Jewish mare’ was followed by ‘Sly fussy Heymann, the wandering Jew.’ and ‘A Jew for Mayor, if I’m intelligible, Confers an insult on all others eligible.’ No wonder so many Webster’s squibs appeared without details of printer or publisher. Did any of this stuff actually influence political opinion in Nottingham, or was it read only by those who already espoused its causes?
Like W.H. Smith, Fred Webster is proving hard to run to earth. Only two Frederick Websters are listed for Nottingham and suburbs in the 1861 census, and there is also a third possible candidate, an outsider. After searching sources at Nottinghamshire Archives and the Local Studies Library, I am still not sure. Of the two most likely, one was the son of Joseph Webster, lace manufacturer of 1 Pelham Street, and Sherwood Rise, 2nd Row (now Second Avenue,) and the other a lace dresser of Dakeyne Street, Sneinton. The former, listed in the census as ‘lace dealer’s son,’ was, however, only 25 or 26 at the time, so if he is our man he began his journalistic fireworks at a very tender age. He is later listed briefly as a lace maker and dealer, of 1 or 4 Pelham Street, and appeared as an elector for Exchange Ward (by virtue of the shop premises) for a couple of years in the 1860s. A Frederick Webster was also involved in 1866 in the formation of the Independent Society, which raised a sum of money for Sir Robert Clifton’s unsuccessful defence against the petition to unseat him as MP for Nottingham. This Webster was also one of two local men who accompanied Ralph Bernal Osborne, chosen to fight Clifton’s seat (and eventually to gain it) to a huge open-air meeting in the Market Place. A final clue may or may not be significant. There are several advertisements in the Athenaeum for tradesmen at, or very close to 4 Pelham Street. Was this simply because they were conveniently close to the editorial headquarters at Forman’s shop in Long Row, or was Fred. Webster the editor drumming up trade from his tenants and close neighbours?
Frederick Webster of Dakeyne Street was a few years older than his namesake. He is worthy of consideration here, if only because a number of Sneinton Websters were closely associated with the parish church of St Stephen, a bulwark of High Anglicanism. There is also evidence that one of these Websters was interested in photography about 1860, some of the earliest photographs of Old Sneinton being taken from his house in Belvoir Terrace. Could this have been a reason why Samuel Bourne was invited to contribute to the Athenaeum?
I still lean towards the Pelham Street and Sherwood Rise man, but cannot be certain. If any reader has information on this elusive figure, I shall be grateful for enlightenment. Meanwhile the search continues.
Stephen Best
Summer 2006
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