Page Woodcock’s Wind Pills: Victorian Cure-All or Marketing Masterstroke?

Exploring Lincoln’s link to one of Britain’s most flamboyantly advertised patent medicines

In the bustling world of 19th-century patent remedies, few products captured public imagination quite like Page Woodcock’s Wind Pills. Marketed as a cure for everything from indigestion to gout, these “purely vegetable” pills weren’t just a medicinal offering — they were a spectacle of Victorian advertising ingenuity.

 Who Was Page Woodcock?

Page Dewing Woodcock, a Methodist chemist originally from Norwich, later made Lincoln his home. Known for his flair for promotion, Woodcock wasn’t content with quiet pharmacy work. He became a master of the printed sermon — crafting long, impassioned advertisements that read more like moral tracts than marketing copy.

His ads, often filled with religious overtones and dramatic appeals to the suffering public, drew both admiration and satire. Publications like Punch poked fun at his style, but the attention only helped fuel the popularity of his pills.

What Did the Pills Claim to Cure?

Wind Pills were marketed as a remedy for:

• Indigestion
• Liver complaints
• Biliousness
• Flatulence
• Disturbed sleep
• Heartburn
• Even gout

The appeal lay in their “purely vegetable” composition — a comforting promise in an age wary of chemical concoctions. Testimonials poured in, praising their effectiveness, though modern analysis suggests their success owed more to marketing than medicine.

Advertising That Floated Above the Rest

Woodcock’s promotional genius extended beyond the written word. One of his most memorable advertisements featured two boys dropping boxes of Wind Pills from a hot air balloon to a crowd below — a vivid metaphor for their widespread appeal. The imagery was colourful, theatrical, and designed to stop readers in their tracks.

These ads weren’t just selling pills; they were selling hope, spectacle, and a sense of belonging to a movement of self-improvement and moral health.

 Medicine or Myth?

Like many patent medicines of the era, Wind Pills walked a fine line between genuine relief and exaggerated claims. While some users swore by them, there was little scientific evidence to support their efficacy. Still, they remained popular across the UK, stocked in chemists and trusted by thousands.

Their success speaks volumes about Victorian attitudes toward health, trust, and the power of persuasive storytelling.

Lincoln’s Place in the Story

Page Woodcock's chemist shop on Lincoln High Street, demolished in the 1960s for the building of the Boots the Chemist Store.

Though born in Norwich, Woodcock’s later life in Lincoln ties this curious chapter of medical history to the city’s broader narrative. His presence here adds another layer to Lincoln’s rich tapestry of innovation, eccentricity, and civic life.

Final Thoughts

Page Woodcock’s Wind Pills were more than a remedy — they were a cultural phenomenon. Blending religious fervour, theatrical advertising, and the promise of relief, they offer a fascinating glimpse into the world of Victorian medicine and marketing.

Whether you’re interested in the history of health, the evolution of advertising, or Lincoln’s lesser-known characters, Page Woodcock’s story is one worth retelling.

A Chapel Lost, A Life Forgotten: The Story of Isabella and St Andrew’s

 The fall of St Andrew’s and the quiet legacy of Gaunt Street’s anchorite

At the time of the Reformation, Lincoln was suffering from 200 years of neglect. The Black Death and the loss of the Staple in 1369 had triggered a long decline in population—from about 4,000 in the mid-14th century to just 2,000 a century later. Once-thriving parishes were emptying, and by 1540, many churches had no parishioners. Formerly populated areas of Lincoln were reverting to agriculture, their stone buildings crumbling into the soil.

The Reformation had not only disrupted religious life but also dismantled the social and economic fabric of towns like Lincoln. The dissolution of monasteries removed vital sources of charity, education, and employment, leaving communities adrift. In response to this upheaval, an application was made to Parliament to unite the city’s dwindling parishes. An Act was passed in 1538 "for the union of churches in the city of Lincoln," authorising four men—John Taylor, Bishop of Lincoln; William Hutchinson, Mayor; George Stamp; and John Fowler—to carry it into effect.

A copy of the deed of union, dated 4th September 1553, records that the number of parishes within the city bail and close of Lincoln was reduced from fifty-two to fifteen. The process was swift and pragmatic, driven by dwindling congregations and the financial value of salvaged materials.

One of the doomed churches was St Andrew’s, which stood on the north side of the street now known as Gaunt Street. The Sutton family, prominent residents of the large house known as "John of Gaunt’s Place," petitioned the City Corporation to spare the church. They proposed to annex St Andrew’s as their private chapel and maintain it at their own expense. But the timber, lead, glass, and stone were worth money—and sentiment rarely outweighed salvage.

St Andrew’s Church stood behind the wall in the centre of the picture. The graveyard remained there until West (of West's garage) was built on the site in the late 19th century.  Drawing by E J Willson

The Corporation was resolute. The church was pulled down in 1551, and its materials were repurposed to repair the remaining fifteen churches. Some fragments may still survive, embedded in the walls of buildings that stand today.

Next to the church lived an anchorite named Isabella. Anchorites voluntarily withdrew from the world, living in a cell attached to or within a church, devoted to prayer and contemplation. Their entrances were bricked up, sealing them inside for life. Isabella’s cell would have been sparse—perhaps a small window for communion, a crucifix, and a stone floor worn smooth by kneeling. At that time, Lincoln had three anchorites: Isabella at St Andrew’s, another beneath the Bishop’s Palace walls, and one at Trinity Church near the bottom of Greestone Stairs. What became of Isabella after the church’s demolition is not recorded, but her story lingers in the silence of that vanished sanctuary.

Lincoln’s fortunes would not revive for another 300 years, until the rise of industry brought new life to the city. Men like Ruston, Clayton, and Shuttleworth transformed Lincoln into a hub of engineering and manufacturing. Where anchorites once prayed in solitude, steam engines roared and ironworks rose—marking a dramatic shift from spiritual retreat to industrial ambition.

List of the 52 churches and chapels in Lincoln at the Reformation, the ones mark with an asterisk survived, though many were damaged or destroyed during the English Civil War:

West's building on St Andrew's Graveyard

To view an 1885 map of the area showing St Andrew's graveyard on the corner of Gaunt Street Click Here 

To view a map of Lincoln's lost medieval places of religious worship click here

Hubbards Hills: A Love Story Carved into Lincolnshire’s Landscape

In the heart of Louth lies a place that’s more than just a beauty spot — it’s a living memorial to love, generosity, and civic pride. Hubbards Hills, with its winding paths and tranquil waters, owes its existence to one man’s devotion to his wife and his adopted town.

It all began in 1875, when a young Swiss teacher, Auguste Alphonse Pahud, arrived in Louth to teach French and German at King Edward VI School. He fell in love with Annie Grant, the daughter of a prosperous Withern farmer. They married twelve years later and settled at The Limes on Westgate, living a life of travel and quiet companionship.

But tragedy struck in 1899 when Annie died suddenly in London. Auguste was heartbroken. He withdrew from public life and, in 1902, passed away after writing a will that would shape Louth’s future.  His £25,000 estate — a fortune at the time — was entrusted to seven local men with a mission: honour Annie’s memory and give back to the community. Their decisions were visionary:

• A stained-glass window was commissioned for the parish church
• The Limes became the foundation of the Girls’ Grammar School
• A fund was created to support the poor in Withern
• And most famously, Hubbards Hills was purchased and transformed into a public park

The land, bought from Mr J. Ward for just over £2,000, included the lake and watermill on Crowtree Lane. Extensive tree planting followed, and the valley was carefully shaped into the green haven we know today — a process beautifully documented in David Robinson’s book The History of Hubbards Hills.

The Day Louth Celebrated

On August 3, 1907, the town came alive. Flags fluttered, bells rang, and thousands gathered to celebrate the official handover of Hubbards Hills to the people of Louth. The Mayor called it “the proudest moment” of his career. Children sang, bands played, and the festivities stretched from morning until a firework finale lit up the sky with the words: “May Louth enjoy Hubbards Hills — Goodnight.”

It was a day etched into memory — not just for the spectacle, but for what it represented: a gift of nature, freely given, to be cherished by generations.

 Stewardship Through the Years

After local government changes in 1974, care of the Hills passed to East Lindsey District and Louth Town Council. Despite good intentions, funding was tight and ambitious plans never materialised. By 2009, it was clear that Hubbards Hills needed a new chapter.

That came in the form of a dedicated charity, launched in April 2009. With a mix of councillors and passionate locals — including Philip Day, Allan Dunning, Michael Beaumont, Michael Moncaster, and Linda Cahalin — the charity took on the task of preserving and improving the Hills. A maintenance plan was drawn up with expert help, and today the site is supported by council funds and external grants.

Because Hubbards Hills isn’t just a park. It’s a love letter to Lincolnshire, written in trees and water, and signed by a man who believed in beauty, memory, and community.

A Lot of Activity at The Cornhill

Many years ago, when I started collecting pictures and books about Lincoln, this was one of the first postcards I bought.  Probably paid too much for it at the time but I was attracted by the colour and the image of Lincoln people going about their daily business.

It is often difficult to date old postcards within say 50 years, but the names of the businesses on this one allow us to date it within 8 years.  Using Lincoln trade directories I can see that Melbourn Bros were there by 1894 and moved to Brayford Head sometime before 1913.

Apart from Melbourn Bros there are two other businesses pictured which were there for at least the same period of time.  Joseph Hepworth and Son maintained their corner position from about 1890 until the 1980s when they became Next Plc.  Prior to that they were on the corner of High Street and Guildhall Street, where HSBC bank is now.

Peel Bros was a partnership between two corn merchants brothers, Alfred and Walter Peel.  Walter married Grace Melbourn, daughter of Newell Cecil Melbourn, wine and spirit merchant, in 1889.  Alfred married Amelia Robey, daughter of Robert Robey of Robey & Co, in 1885.  Alfred and Walters parnership was dissolved in 1906, Amelia acted as Alfred's attorney as he was seriously ill and died in 1907.  Peel Bros continued to trade from the Cornhill address until the 1950s.

There is a small sign with the word "HANSON" above the doorway next to Melbourns, that was John Robert Hanson, gun and cycle manufacturer.  Hanson moved to the Cornhill somewhere between 1897 and 1901, he died in 1904, at the age of 42, and there is no record of the business on the Cornhill in 1905 so it is probable that the business died with him.

The building with Corinthian pillars is the old Corn Exchange, built in 1848, it was soon found to be inadequate for the amount of the business that was conducted there.  In 1880 the new Corn Exchange was built to the left of the old building, the tower stood over the entrance.  In the mid 20th century, when not used as a Corn Exchange, it was a cinema and a roller skating rink.

To the right and at the back of the old Corn Exchange can be seen the "New" Market.  The rest of the picture is in heavy shadow but the Cornhill Hotel and the City Wine & Spirit Stores can be just made out.

Horse Fair at the Cornhill in 1910

The Cornhill in 1965 populated by Vauxhall, BMC group and Rootes group vehicles.

Houses at the Wood Yard

The company of H Newsum, Sons & Co was established in 1856 by Henry Newsum of Rotherham in Broadgate, Lincoln.   These works were destroyed by fire in 1879, the Drill Hall was built on the site, and Newsums moved to 17 Pelham Street.  By 1881 Newsums employed 121 men and 12 boys.  It was realised after World War I that the joinery works there were too small for the Company’s expansion plans and a green field site next to the West Common south of Carholme Road was acquired.   This was a large site complete with its own railway; read more about the railway here

The company continued to prosper until after World War II,   exporting 1,000 wooden prefabricated houses to South Australia and also to Ajax in Ontario, Canada in the early 1950s.  By 1956 the Company had vacated the site and moved to its other site in Gainsborough.  Gainsborough closed in 1968 bringing to an end a company of over 100 years old.

Associated Electrical Industries (AEI), later English Electric Valves, moved onto the site and remained there until 2007 when the site was sold for housing.  This was the end of manufacturing in this area of Carholme Road, Fisons having closed many years before.

Newsum’s Villas

Newsum Villas were built in 1920 on the northern perimeter of Newsum’s new joinery works.  One detached and eight 3 bedroom semi-detached houses were built for senior staff at the works.

Resident’s of Newsum’s Villas in 1932

Designed in a pseudo-Georgian style, the houses are well built in brick and well proportioned.  Sadly all the houses except one have had their neo-Georgian proportioned sash windows replaced with upvc double-glazed units that detract from the design of the houses.  The house in the photograph was in the process of being renovated when I photographed it in 2012 and has had its wooden windows replaced.

Better to Hang an Innocent Man, Than Let a Guilty Person Escape.

The following is a story that appeared in the Lincoln Gazette on 2nd April 1864:

"LINCOLN now (1864) is not like the Lincoln of some 60 or 70 years ago. No railways were thought of, policemen were a scarce article, and highwaymen and footpads were plentiful.

"A long journey was a formidable affair, and a coach trip to London was an extraordinary occurrence. The family lawyer was often called in to make the testament of the excursionist, who almost despaired of seeing his own home again.

"Such a place was Lincoln.

"In the latter part of the 18th century, among the numerous commercials who visited the ancient city, was one old Jew, Abraham, who travelled with gold and silver articles. He supplied the majority of the Lincoln silversmiths with their wares.

"For many years the rich Jew had driven into Lincoln, done a good trade and reaped a large profit.

"It so happened that on one occasion he inadvertently informed the landlord of an inn that he was nearly always his own banker.

"The landlord asked whether he was not afraid of being robbed. He carelessly replied: “Why no, I carry fire-arms.”

"Abraham went his usual round and late in the Autumn season he left Lincoln, after 5pm, for Kirton Lindsey.

"If there ever was a place especially cut out for the perpetration of a dark deed, it was the Cocked Hat plantation at Burton.

"The plantation, in the form of a cocked hat, is on the eastern side of the road. It was a lonely, cheerless place in the day time; and it made the stoutest heart nervous at night.

"The convenient clumps of trees close upon the road secured just the nest for a highwayman.

"It is supposed that when Abraham arrived in the middle of this wood he was fired at from behind but was not struck.

"The shot was returned with like effect. The footpad then came from his lurking place  and grappled with the Jew.

"Just at this moment the moon shone out brilliantly and the footpad shot him dead.

"The thief then took from the dead man all the gold coin he had in his possession.

"Some time afterwards the body was found and carried to the city.

"In making a post mortem examination, the surgeons thought that they could detect upon the dilated pupil of the eyes of the deceased, a miniature likeness of a poor man who had long been, what in police phraseology is called, a suspected person.

"Rumour, with her many tongues, soon began to prattle, and it was hinted that Long Tom was suspected.

"The inquest ended with a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, but strong suspicion attached to Long Tom.

"Some few months afterwards the suspect changed a £10 note and the old constable, although not often very active, soon heard of this, and was quickly at Long Tom’s dwelling.

"A search was made of Long Tom’s premises and two other notes were found in his house.

"Long Tom was committed to Lincoln castle.

"After his committal many suspicious circumstances were brought forward against the prisoner, many of which would have equally held good against any other man.

"All these things were talked over at the smoke room of the inn where the Jew formerly put up.

"The landlord went so far as to say that he believed that on the very evening in question Long Tom had asked him for change for a note of considerable amount for a leather-dresser.

"Upon application to the well-to-do leather-dresser, it was found that he had never authorised or sent out Long Tom for change.

"The case went to trial before Mr justice Heath, who held that it was always better to hang an innocent man, than let a guilty person escape.

"Long Tom emphatically denied ever having asked for change of the landlord. The trial ended in the jury returning a verdict of guilty, and Justice Heath sentenced the prisoner to be hung, and then to  be hung in chains where the murder was committed.

"The condemnation of the prisoner was the talk of the town for a time, and the landlord particularly expatiated upon the enormity of the prisoner’s guilt. He added further, that he hoped he should be one who would assist to drag his body to the gibbet post.

"Long Tom was publicly executed in front of an excited and furious populace.

"After hanging the usual time, he was cut down, and then, gibbeted at Burton.

"Time passed on. The execution of Long Tom had given way to fresh scenes of a similar character; the old city was prospering, and its population increasing.

"The landlord had realised a fortune and was considered one of the wealthiest citizens of his time.

"The flourishing landlord, however, fell sick and in his delirium he made use of expressions tending to show that he had upon his mind some awful crime. Long Tom’s name was mentioned.

"He requested that a magistrate be sent for and before him  he made the confession that he had shot the poor old Jew and concocted the story of Long Tom changing money at his inn on the night of the murder.

"Soon after this confession the landlord died.

"State authorities took possession of his property and his  children were left homeless  and begged their bread. Kind friends helped them from the city.

"The Government, ever tardy a wrong committed, settled upon the widow of the unjustly executed Tom a handsome yearly pittance.

"The gibbet post was taken down and few people now living remember to have ever heard of the circumstances here related.

"To this day many believe that the Jew mounts guard at the Cocked Hat plantation and that he may be seen with grizzly beard and hair dodging after a guilty figure, supposed to be the landlord".

Map showing Cocked Hat Plantation.

This "story" is written in a typical florid style of newspaper reporting of the nineteenth century: Is it true? I don't know, if it is true it is a few years out.

Abraham Lamego was buried at St Mary's Stow on 14th August 1752, his abode was stated as London.  His Probate was completed on 22nd January 1753, it stated he lived in Edmonton, London.  

The Lost Houses of Lincolnshire - West Willoughby Hall

West Willoughby Hall was was originally built in 18th century in Queen Anne style architecture.  The Rev Charles Wager Allix (1749-1795) bought the West Willoughby Estate in the final years of the 18th century.      

The Rev Allix was coursing (chasing a hare on horseback with dogs) with his servant.  He decided there was time for a ride before dinner.  When they were about a mile from home he started to fall from his horse, his servant caught him and laid him on the ground.  The servant let his horse loose so it could return to the house and his family would know he was in trouble.  At the house no one knew where they were and, eventually the servant left the Rev Allix "senseless and speechless on the ground" and headed to the house on his master's horse to inform the family and bring assistance, then he returned to his master.  The horse smelled the Rex Allix snorted, ran back a few steps, fell on his side and died in less than two hours.  Rev Allix remained unconscious for a week when he passed away.

His son, Charles Allix (1783-1866) developed the farming potential of the estate.  Charles' son, Frederick William Allix, employed Lincoln architect William Watkins to design a new house in place of the original hall.  The new Hall was built in 1873 at a cost of £28,000 using local Ancaster stone.

 It was large and, like most of Watkins' work, elaborate and expansive. Jacobean in style and similar to Dutch and French Renaissance styles. For all its granduer the house was unloved by the Allix family and often tenanted, F W Allix and his wife spent most of their time living in Brussells

F W Allix died in 1894, his wife, Mary Sophia, died in Brussels in 1910.

In 1912 the estate was auctioned to several buyers, except for the house and park. The house was rented then bought by the Rev. H.W.Hitchcock, acting as agent for his eldest brother. 

Practically all of the West Willoughby Estate was sold off in fourteen lots

The house was auctioned in 1928 but withdrawn at £2,750.  

The house remained empty until World War II when it was occupied by the army, the Hall was badly damaged and even used for target practice. 

It lingered on in ruinous state until 1963 when dynamite was used to demolish it. All that remains is a stable block with a datestone of 1876.

The stable block has been renovated and is now (2010) converted to a family home. The extensive grounds have been incorporated as the lawns of the dwelling. The foundations of West Willoughby Hall have been observed by the current occupier (2010) of the stable block during landscaping work that has taken place over the past eleven years. The foundations lie approximately 50 metres to the south-east of the stables. Some former lodges to the hall remain but have been in private ownership for at least thirty years. The front (south) elevation has had an entrance door added beneath a new central Dutch gable which complements the original two. At the rear, large wooden entrance doors have been added to enclose what was previously an open arch, linking the front of the stable building with the rear. {5}

"In 1959 I described Willoughby Hall near Ancaster, Lincolnshire as ‘a tall, gaunt, French-style house of 1873, said to be by Watkins and in ruins’; in 1989 my text was revised to read, “Of the French-style house of 1873 by William Watkins only the stable block of 1876, with shaped gables, remains.’ Today I would further revise my stylistic judgement: I believe Willoughby was a very clever adaptation from local seventeenth-century Northamptonshire and south Lincolnshire models, and that it had also benefited from the Flemish taste of Frederick Allix’s wife Sophia. At the time he was working at Willoughby, Watkins had already built in 1867 the Town Hall at nearby Grantham.

"I had come to Willoughby in the late afternoon from Caythorpe, its walled park and funerary monuments so redolent of the Hussey tenure. Being Lincolnshire, this was RAF country, the domain of ‘Bomber’ Harris. My index card said ‘Mucked up by the RAF — from Cranwell’, but the army were billeted here too. I was puzzled by large numbers at least two feet high painted on the roof and thought of demolition, but learned later that the RAF used the numbers to practise precision bombing in their Mosquitoes. Even from a distance, a spookiness seemed to emanate from the ruin as I approached, a feeling not unlike that which I'd experienced at Bulwell in Nottinghamshire. I knew nothing then of Charles Hitchcock, a lunatic who, cared for by his brother the Reverend Harry, was incarcerated here from 1912 until his death in 1928. It is said that he would appear with a handkerchief on his head, and run away when approached. Another tale is attested to by old Mr Simkins, the Hitchcocks’ gardener. He reported that Charley had the run of the attic floor, and was allowed out into the garden at three o’clock each afternoon, superintended by a maid. Simkins could point to the gabled window on the garden front from which Charley would sing to and stare at the moon — it seems that he would get into a frightful state if there was no moon on a night when he needed its consolation. One such night, he ran up and down the stairs so many times that he finally collapsed exhausted at the bottom. Simkins also claimed that Charley had a passion for Mars bars, which his brother used to supply in bulk. This surprised me, and later enquiries made to the Mars bars people in Slough revealed that the bars had only been marketed from 1932. Maybe Charley’s ghost consumed them? The house was untenanted after Charley’s death in 1928. When the army moved in, a carved French chimney-piece was there one day and gone the next, and according to Simkins, no doubt a local myth-maker, the house was badly haunted. Objects would suddenly break, as if someone had smashed them. ‘A real nasty feeling the place gave,’ he confessed. There were noises in the night, but it was not clear if these were the gasps of soldiers in the embrace of WRACs, or Charley's ghost moaning at the moon.

"Looking back, I don’t believe I have never found a ruin so unpleasant. The back parts had been used as pigsties, and stank from the inevitable muck-heap. In the stables the walls were plastered with army notices. Each stall had housed not horses but soldiers, eating around a table, and the columnar divisions had all been broken up for firewood, as had the balusters of the upper main staircase and the panelling in the dining room. Upstairs, only accessible by sidling along a wall beam over a precipitous drop, the wet rot bulged out of walls like balloons, and the stench of decay was choking. I’m sure Charley had been harmless, but he left a legacy of evil emanations. I felt cold, on this warm summer’s evening"

-- No Voice From the Hall  John Harris

The Stable Block converted to a home