Whether unfashionably dipping in the sea or providing public drinking fountains, this peer was magnificently obsessed, says Hazel Davis
Lord Rokeby: the original hipster with water on the brain
True British eccentric: Lord Rokeby Credit: National Portrait Gallery
7 May 2016
Hazel Davis
The Telegraph
Whether unfashionably dipping in the sea or providing public drinking fountains, this peer was magnificently obsessed, says Hazel Davis
A great British eccentric or a man ahead of his time? Lord Rokeby’s untamed beard and fondness for outdoor swimming might be commonplace among today’s hipsters, but back in the 1700s they marked him out as extremely curious.
In fact many of the eccentric peer’s habits – for example, encouraging his estate to grow wild and his animals to roam free, as well as eating only food grown in this country – are now commonplace, even applauded.
Born Matthew Robinson in Hythe, Kent, in 1712, Lord Rokeby’s father was a wealthy landowner and gentleman usher to George II. His sisters were notable writers Elizabeth Montagu, founder of the Blue Stockings Society literary salon, and Sarah Scott.
Rokeby studied at Westminster and then law at Trinity College, Cambridge, and inherited his peerage from his cousin Richard Robinson, Lord Bishop of Armagh.
He controversially never married and lived in a small estate near Hythe called Mount Morris. On his travels in Germany he had reportedly discovered the benefits of cold water and on his return started going to the seaside daily to swim, sometimes fainting from exhaustion and having to be rescued. He eventually built a glass-covered bath-house in his grounds, which was heated by the sun and supplied by a nearby spring, where he spent hours alone.
Rokeby sported a beard – back when the very thought of a beard was unheard of – and it eventually grew down to his knees. It was so thick it could be seen from behind under his arms. He also believed that God was to be worshipped in nature and not the pulpit, so he let his private chapel fall into disrepair.
People from near and far would try to get a look at him on his way to the seaside – but he was a reclusive, though apparently pleasant, man. When his bishop cousin once dropped in on a surprise visit, he hastily called upon local labourers to restore his church for the following Sunday’s service, only to let it go to ruin again afterwards.
But Rokeby was regarded by locals with suspicion, particularly for his love of water (something most people did not share at the time). Yet he was kind to his servants and insisted they travel in his coach while he walked to the beach. He also built drinking fountains en route to encourage people to drink more water, and would reward partakers with half a crown (12½p, a small fortune at the time) if he spotted them.
Plunging pioneer: with his beard and perchant for outdoor swimming, Rokeby would have fitted in with today’s hipsters Credit: Getty
Though he rarely had visitors, Rokeby seemingly would regale them with long and boring poems. He would not drink tea, coffee or alcohol, just beef tea and water. Rumours abounded at the time that he was a cannibal, and it has also been suggested he was fond of sitting in the bath with a large joint of veal, from which he would take occasional bites.
Rokeby was also a supremely principled man. He would not allow his tenants to grow barley because the grain would go to the maltster who would pay tax, and the money would be used to pay for the war with France, to which the peer was vehemently opposed. He is also known to have taken on a bet with a local banker that if the Bank of England had not failed by the time of his death, his executors would pay the man £10.
Lord Rokeby died in 1800 at the grand old age of 88, so perhaps his preferences for cold-water swimming and an eco-friendly diet were not too detrimental. Before he died, he told his nephew that if he dared call a doctor he would disinherit him.
A word to the wise
In January 1755, Lord Rokeby’s sister Elizabeth Montagu wrote in a letter to their sister, Sarah Scott: "Brother Robinson is emulating the great Diogenes and other… doctors of the stoic fur; he flies the life of London and leads a life of such privacy and seriousness as looks to the beholder like wisdom."
And Rokeby’s wisdom was underestimated by many. In his obituary, The Gentleman’s Magazine wrote that he was "a man of very vigorous understanding, who thought upon all occasions for himself, and acted with unexampled consistency up to his own principles, which gave him the appearance, and perhaps the reality, of some eccentricities, of which the relating has been so exaggerated as to amount to a tissue of the most gross and ridiculous falsehoods".
Meet Lord Rokeby – the original hipster
Lord Rokeby: the original hipster with water on the brain
True British eccentric: Lord Rokeby Credit: National Portrait Gallery
7 May 2016
Hazel Davis
The Telegraph
Whether unfashionably dipping in the sea or providing public drinking fountains, this peer was magnificently obsessed, says Hazel Davis
A great British eccentric or a man ahead of his time? Lord Rokeby’s untamed beard and fondness for outdoor swimming might be commonplace among today’s hipsters, but back in the 1700s they marked him out as extremely curious.
In fact many of the eccentric peer’s habits – for example, encouraging his estate to grow wild and his animals to roam free, as well as eating only food grown in this country – are now commonplace, even applauded.
Born Matthew Robinson in Hythe, Kent, in 1712, Lord Rokeby’s father was a wealthy landowner and gentleman usher to George II. His sisters were notable writers Elizabeth Montagu, founder of the Blue Stockings Society literary salon, and Sarah Scott.
Rokeby studied at Westminster and then law at Trinity College, Cambridge, and inherited his peerage from his cousin Richard Robinson, Lord Bishop of Armagh.
He controversially never married and lived in a small estate near Hythe called Mount Morris. On his travels in Germany he had reportedly discovered the benefits of cold water and on his return started going to the seaside daily to swim, sometimes fainting from exhaustion and having to be rescued. He eventually built a glass-covered bath-house in his grounds, which was heated by the sun and supplied by a nearby spring, where he spent hours alone.
Rokeby sported a beard – back when the very thought of a beard was unheard of – and it eventually grew down to his knees. It was so thick it could be seen from behind under his arms. He also believed that God was to be worshipped in nature and not the pulpit, so he let his private chapel fall into disrepair.
People from near and far would try to get a look at him on his way to the seaside – but he was a reclusive, though apparently pleasant, man. When his bishop cousin once dropped in on a surprise visit, he hastily called upon local labourers to restore his church for the following Sunday’s service, only to let it go to ruin again afterwards.
But Rokeby was regarded by locals with suspicion, particularly for his love of water (something most people did not share at the time). Yet he was kind to his servants and insisted they travel in his coach while he walked to the beach. He also built drinking fountains en route to encourage people to drink more water, and would reward partakers with half a crown (12½p, a small fortune at the time) if he spotted them.
Plunging pioneer: with his beard and perchant for outdoor swimming, Rokeby would have fitted in with today’s hipsters Credit: Getty
Though he rarely had visitors, Rokeby seemingly would regale them with long and boring poems. He would not drink tea, coffee or alcohol, just beef tea and water. Rumours abounded at the time that he was a cannibal, and it has also been suggested he was fond of sitting in the bath with a large joint of veal, from which he would take occasional bites.
Rokeby was also a supremely principled man. He would not allow his tenants to grow barley because the grain would go to the maltster who would pay tax, and the money would be used to pay for the war with France, to which the peer was vehemently opposed. He is also known to have taken on a bet with a local banker that if the Bank of England had not failed by the time of his death, his executors would pay the man £10.
Lord Rokeby died in 1800 at the grand old age of 88, so perhaps his preferences for cold-water swimming and an eco-friendly diet were not too detrimental. Before he died, he told his nephew that if he dared call a doctor he would disinherit him.
A word to the wise
In January 1755, Lord Rokeby’s sister Elizabeth Montagu wrote in a letter to their sister, Sarah Scott: "Brother Robinson is emulating the great Diogenes and other… doctors of the stoic fur; he flies the life of London and leads a life of such privacy and seriousness as looks to the beholder like wisdom."
And Rokeby’s wisdom was underestimated by many. In his obituary, The Gentleman’s Magazine wrote that he was "a man of very vigorous understanding, who thought upon all occasions for himself, and acted with unexampled consistency up to his own principles, which gave him the appearance, and perhaps the reality, of some eccentricities, of which the relating has been so exaggerated as to amount to a tissue of the most gross and ridiculous falsehoods".
Meet Lord Rokeby – the original hipster
