The wildest of stories.

Alright?

There are probably a few wild boys in Norwich. But only one has ever been wild enough to earn the coveted title of the wild boy.

How did a feral child living in the woods of East Germany come to find himself locked up in a Norwich prison?

The story of Peter the Wild Boy is nearly as wild as he was. Today I’ll share it.

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A most serendipitous find.

Peter’s discovery was like something right out of a film (I feel like I say that a lot about Norwich’s history, but such is the nature of Norwich’s history).

In 1725, Peter was discovered by King George I, of all people, who was hunting in Hanover during a royal visit.

Peter probably would’ve been around 12. He walked on all fours, had no known family, and had survived in the woods by eating plants. He could not be taught to speak a language.

At the request of King George’s daughter-in-law, Caroline of Ansbach, Princess of Wales, he was transported to Britain a year later, in 1726.

That’s when he became famous.

Peter the Famous Boy.

Peter was the talk of the town when he arrived in London. He was the subject of satire, speculation and study, which culminated in a scholar of linguistic evolution, James Burnett, taking particular interest in him. I’m mentioning James because we’ll meet him again at the end of this tale.

Once the hype had died down a bit, Caroline, the one who had asked her Father-in-law, King George, to transport Peter over to Britain in the first place, arranged for a Dr Arbuthnot to oversee his education. Which didn’t go well. Any attempts to teach Peter to read, write or speak fell flat.

After that, Peter bounced around various carers, and ended up working as a farmhand on a farm in Northchurch, Hertfordshire.

Years passed. Decades passed. Farmers came and went, but Peter remained at the farm, working away, quiet and strong.

That was until the late summer of 1751, when, suddenly, Peter vanished.

Peter’s disappearance.

It was easier to disappear without a trace in the mid-18th Century than it is today, but for someone as distinctive as Peter, it was still pretty remarkable.

Adverts were placed in local newspapers, pleading for his safe return. But nothing: not a word. Peter was, by all accounts, lost.

A few months later, a fire broke out in Norwich (classic Norwich). Among the buildings engulfed in the flames was the city gaol, which you’ll know as the Bridewell Museum.

The inmates were evacuated, but one in particular caught the attention of the locals. He was hairy, strong and made grunting noises similar to those of an uruangatan. Nope, it wasn’t your husband: It was Peter the Wild Boy.

Peter was returned to the farm and had a leather collar made that included his name and address, which he wore until his death.

Peter’s death.

Peter lived out the rest of his days in Northchurch and, in 1785, died at the age of around 72. A decent innings.

Three years prior to that, he was visited by James Burnett (the Scottish scholar we met earlier). I’m going to copy and paste James’ conclusions from the Wikipedia page:



“He was said to have a healthy complexion with a full white beard, while acquiring a taste for food beyond plants and enjoying the simple things of life. He had picked up limited speech, capable of saying his name, "King George" and humming a few songs, while understanding what Burnett had said to him, a far cry from his past feral self.”

So, unlike some of the stories explored in this newsletter, this one ends rather happily.

Extra bits.

There are a few portraits of Peter. One is on the East Wall of the King’s staircase in Kensington Palace, where a portrait of George I’s court includes Peter, who wears a green coat and holds a bushel of oak leaves (presumably his favourite snack).

Another, of Peter as an older man, is currently housed in the National Portrait Gallery’s collection. You can view it here.



You’ll also find a depiction of Peter atop a bollard right next to the Bridewell Museum. Next time you’re looking for the Lucky Nipple, keep an eye out for the bollard too.

These days, it’s thought that Peter might’ve had Pitts-Hopkins syndrome, a rare genetic disorder. Some theorise that his parents abandoned him after his condition became apparent.

One question that remains unanswered, though, is why Peter ended up in Norwich in the first place. Theories on a postcard, please. My personal hypothesis is that he’d heard it was an excellent - and underrated - weekend break.

Right you are. See you next week, then.

Secret Norwich.