Bown, Phoebe: Eccentric woman was Peak curiosity

Phoebe Bown: Eccentric woman was Peak curiosity

More than 200 years ago, the eccentric Phoebe Bown was baptised in Matlock. Nicola Rippon tells the story of the woman who became one of the Peak District’s most popular attractions.

St Giles' Church, Matlock, in 1820

High Tor and Matlock Dale

PRIOR to the death of Phoebe Bown in 1854, her local vicar at Matlock wrote the following, with her approval: “Here lies romantic Phoebe, half Ganymede, half Hebe; A maid of mutable condition, a jockey, cowherd and musician.”

Sadly, this wonderful epitaph does not appear on Phoebe Bown’s grave, but it does help to explain why this eccentric, sturdy, outspoken and independent woman became one of Derbyshire’s greatest tourist attractions during the late 18th and early 19th centuries.

Indeed, an account of her, published after her death noted: “This singular and eccentric individual … for more than half a century, was considered one of the curiosities of the neighbourhood.”

One commentator even went as far as to call her “a little eccentric, or perhaps, we might say, slightly cracked”.

The daughter of working-class parents, Phoebe Bown certainly set out to live life on her own terms.

Although, in her youth, she had been an attractive, handsome woman, with plenty of friends and admirers, Phoebe had no intention of settling down to the sort of traditional family life chosen by her peers.

She believed that, while a man might, initially, be drawn to a pretty woman, he chose a wife, not for her grace and beauty, but for her material wealth.

Phoebe was not blessed with a great fortune and so decided she was unlikely to find a suitable husband.

Instead, she elected for a life of financial and social independence.

She ran a small farm from her cottage at Matlock Dale, doing even the heaviest work herself.

Much to the admiration, and bewilderment of her neighbours, she worked as a mason and carpenter, a farrier, groom and horse-breaker and was considered one of the best cattle breeders in the county, an excellent judge of horses and “a clever, graceful and skilful rider”.

Phoebe, it was noted in her obituary, “turned her attention to architecture, and a commodious and romantically situated edifice in Matlock Dale, known as Cliff-House, was chiefly designed, and the erection superintended by her”.

It was generally believed that Phoebe “adopted the most extraordinary habits” in order to “be as unlike to a female as possible”.

Whether she deliberately cast aside all femininity, or whether, having taken herself out of the marriage market, she was now able to pursue her diverse, less traditional interests, without needing to heed the opinions of likely suitors, is not something 19th century writers, paused to consider.

Undoubtedly, Phoebe would have found traditional, restrictive female clothing unsuitable for the manual labour she chose to perform, and took to wearing a man’s woollen overcoat on top of her petticoat, and tying a series of handkerchiefs over her head, which she covered with a man’s hat.

This only added to her eccentricities, and it was not long before a visit with Phoebe Bown became just as important a tourist activity as a visit to Matlock Bath, a tour of the Peak Cavern or a view of Chatsworth.

Phoebe charmed and fascinated all those who visited her.

And she delighted her visitors with an expert knowledge of many subjects, despite only a rudimentary formal education.

One observer noted how “by application and diligence, [she had] made herself acquainted with the usual round of English literature of the period”.

Indeed, she could recite poems from Milton and Pope, and quote lengthy passages from the works of Shakespeare.

She was also a keen musician, mastering the flute, violoncello and harpsichord – in Phoebe’s day all considered “manly” instruments.

Precisely how accomplished a musician she was remains a matter of debate.

Some contemporaries suggested that her enthusiasm for the instruments considerably outweighed her talent.

However, she certainly possessed confidence in her proficiency.

On one occasion, having listened to a visitor play on the flute, she snatched the instrument from his hand, telling him she was a greater expert than he and proceeded to produce “from it some notes remarkable only for their loudness”.

A good musician or not, Phoebe led the choir at St Giles’ Matlock for many years.

Although she would both entertain and visit friends, Phoebe fell victim to her own paranoia, convinced she would, one day, fall prey to a robber, or even a murderer.

For her own protection she manufactured an array of lethal swords, knives and spears, and kept several muskets.

Perhaps because of this arsenal, there is no record of Phoebe being physically threatened, although she was often on the receiving end of taunts and ridicule.

Her manner could be blunt – often to the point of rudeness – and she developed a robust attitude capable of matching any taunt blow-for-blow.

But Phoebe remained unsuspecting of kindness, taking offers of hospitality at face value.

When one visitor from Liverpool jokingly invited her to visit her fine home on Merseyside, Phoebe rode all the way there in the middle of winter, only to be ridiculed before the astonished woman sent her away.

Her horse was too tired to make the return journey and Phoebe was forced to walk the entire way home.

Always a woman of strong opinions, Phoebe saw no point in holding back criticism.

To one visitor, she complained about Lord Chesterfield and the son he had tried so hard to make into a fine gentleman, declaring “whitewash a red brick as much as you will, it is a red brick still, and at times will show itself to be one”.

Despite, or perhaps because of, her honesty, Phoebe enjoyed a large circle of friends throughout her life, her greatest challenges coming with old age and failing health.

Eventually, after many years of hard manual labour, Phoebe’s hands became so stiff and swollen that she was unable to wield the tools with which she had earned her keep.

Threatened with poverty, it was only thanks to an annuity of £13 paid by the Duke of Portland that she was able to live out her days in reasonable comfort.

Physical disability was eventually compounded with mental decline. “Her faculties in some degree forsook her,” wrote one commentator.

By the time of her death, in May 1854, aged in her 80s, Phoebe’s mind “was wavering and unstable”, and she had been forced to rely upon the kindness of friends.

It is testament to her own kindness and strength of character that her friends, including her parish priest, found occasion to write such splendid and loving tributes to her.

She was truly one of Derbyshire’s greatest characters.

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