s it true that self-raising flour was invented in Bristol?.

HISTORIES OF BRISTOL COMPANIES

Henry Jones Limited (Bristol) 1961

Illustrated Bristol News 1961


HENRY JONES was a Monmouth man. He came to Bristol in 1803. He was by trade a baker and not long after his arrival be opened a bakery at 39 and 37 Broadmead. He invented self-raising flour.

This was the foundation of the old-established "family" business of Henry Jones (Bristol) Ltd., the self-raising flour manufacturers, whose head offices, warehouse and factory are now situated in Murray Road, Bedminster, Bristol.

The story of Henry Jones himself lies, of course, in his invention, and more particularly in his efforts over a number of years to get his flour officially recognised by the Admiralty for use on board ship.

It is not known how long Henry Jones took to perfect his method. But it was certainly the culmination of years of experiment. What he did, briefly, was to invent a process of baking without yeast.

His original formula is basically the same as that used by the company today. It brought to Henry Jones, who at the time was the proprietor of the Western Biscuit Bakery, Broadmead, wealth and, on occasions, frustration, too.

On March 11th, 1845, he was granted a patent in England, Ireland and Scotland. Imagine the impact of his discovery. To the housewife of those days yeast was indispensable. It had problems chiefly that it would not keep.

And Henry Jones knew full well that prior to his invention, the housewife could not do her own baking without the use of yeast. He found, therefore, that his flour was easy to sell. People welcomed it.

From the days Henry Jones received three parchment certificates of the patent granted by Queen Victoria by the Grace of God," he set about marketing his product with a zest and foresight which matched his untold energy.

He was a shrewd businessman. He mixed with society. He was a keen rider with the fox hounds and he enjoyed country pursuits. So it was that he came to send a case of his flour to the Duke of Beaufort at Badminton, to which he received the following reply from the Duke’s chief cook, Mr. William Turnham Beaufort House, 7th July, 1846.

Dear Sir,

You will please to send on receipt of this two cases of your excellent flour; one is for His Grace, the other is for Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence. H.G. has spoken to him and he wishes me to show his man how to work it when on board the Victoria and Albert Yacht, with her Majesty. Lord A.F. is the Commander, by that means Her Majesty is sure to eat Bread made from your flour. Send both cases to me at Beaufort House. I hope you are quite well.

Remaining Yours Truly, Win. H. Tumham.

If Henry Jones wanted influential customers he certainly got them. In less than six months he was appointed purveyor of patent flour and biscuits to Her Majesty. She gave him a Royal Warrant to "enjoy all the rights, profits, privileges and advantages during my will and pleasure." Henry Jones was established.

The difficulties of making bread overseas by the use of yeast was brought home by the suffering of wounded troops in the Crimea. In hospital ships the bread went bad. No wonder. Yeast could not be kept "alive" and workable through a lengthy voyage.

A letter in The Times from one of the nurses at Scutari, dated January 18th, 1855, told of the hazards of those wounded who were shipped away to make room for newcomers.

She wrote: "I suppose all English people can imagine the sour bread which is all that is to be had here and the bad butter, too. A stolen scrape of this is the greatest luxury to a dying man. For want of it, many reject the bread entirely and sink. We have seen this often, nor is it to be wondered at. Nothing but hunger entices us in health to eat the food. Their appetites ought to be tempted to the uppermost but the materials are not to be had.

That letter was written ten years after Henry Jones made his discovery of self-raising flour. It pinpoints the struggle which he had to face before his new baking methods were universally accepted. He waged an even greater struggle with the Admiralty.

Henry Jones, meanwhile, took out an American patent. As a result the first gold medal for the new flour was issued in 1852 to an American firm in Chicago using the Bristol formula.

An advertisement of the day asked this question no doubt thought up by Henry Jones himself : "Why is Jones’ patent flour like the sun ? Because they are both original and self-raising and their beneficial effects are alike appreciated n the Palace and the cottage."

Henry Jones was now a successful man. But in contrast to the many letters of congratulation he received he got nowhere with the Admiralty. And this despite the fact that the advantages of his flour were realised by Sir David Dickson, Medical Inspector of Hospitals for the Navy, and by The Lancet, the medical journal, as early as 1845.


Henry Jones strove to convince the Admiralty that although a diet of "maggots, weevils and mouldy biscuits" may have suited Nelson’s crews, only good bread, decently baked, would satisfy a modern seaman.

Naval ships still put out, however, stocked with bone-hard biscuits. Yet among the scores of letters of congratulation which he received was one in November, 1845, from James Hosken, Captain of the Merchant Navy vessel, the S.S. Great Britain, who wrote:— "Having tried the flour you sent me during her last voyage, I have a great pleasure in stating that it made the best bread I have ever seen at the table of the "Great Western’ or the ‘Great Britain,’ and I shall be glad to hear you succeed in bringing - it into general use at sea, particularly for long voyages."

Three days later this testimonial came from the Master of the Jumma which at the time was off the Sand Heads, Calcutta:

"When I asked the steward how it was likely to answer he said it was the best invention that he knew of this many a day. At all events, we had splendid hot rolls for breakfast this morning! I shall take care to let all my friends in Calcutta know of it."

Henry Jones continued his private "war~ with the Admiralty. It was often a frustrating one. He sent a self-invented bread-making machine for use on board ship, and in January, 1846, he went to London, accompanied by a public analyst to demonstrate it at the Admiralty.

Months passed. Almost a year later he was asked to send the machine to Woolwich for trial on board the "Porcupine.’~ By now his hopes were once again running high. But no word came. He wrote to the Admiralty, only to be told that the machine had been broken up for scrap.

Henry Jones acidly pointed out that only enough flour had been sent to work the machine for an hour and it had been built to last for 50 years. The Admiralty in turn argued that the experiment had been at his own risk. But the inventor did finally succeed in being paid the cost of his machine.

Then came the final irony. In May, 1849 a favourable report was at last received: the flour and the machine were pronounced admirable. Eight days later an abrupt letter told Henry Jones that "their Lordships" declined to make use of either for the Navy.

Another six years passed before Henry Jones, shocked by the casualties in the Crimean hospitals, made another effort, He got all the correspondence with the Admiralty printed, backed it up with testimonials from doctors and professors of chemistry and public analysts and the Director-General of Naval Hospitals, and sent a copy of his pamphlet to every Member of Parliament, being convinced, as he said, "that a grave responsibility would rest upon himself if he did not make this attempt."

Three days earlier Alexis Soyer had offered his services in an honorary capacity as adviser on cooking for the Army. He had been similarly employed by the Government in Ireland during the famine of 1847. He was an admirer of Jones’ methods. His offer was accepted and off he went to the Crimea.

There he met Florence Nightingale and together they set about reorganising the victualling. Good bread, and made to the Henry Jones formula, was part of it. At last Henry Jones had the satisfaction of knowing that her Majesty’s Navy, like Her Majesty herself, had the patent flour at its disposal.

When the "teething" troubles of the self-raising flour were overcome, the process revolutionised Victorian cooking, and by the time the 15-year patent ended, many other manufacturers took up the method and turned the flour industry into a highly competitive one.


Today the Bristol pioneers are still very much a flourishing company. Five years ago the factory, warehouse and head offices had to move out of the original Broadmead premises because of a compulsory purchase order. Production is concentrated on various types of self-raising flour, although a certain amount of plain flour is made as well.

To the public the symbol of Henry Jones (Bristol) Ltd. is the giraffe. Slogan "It towers above them all." Nobody seems to know how this rather unusual trademark actually originated. But it is known that it has existed for well over 75 years.


The essential features of the family business have been carefully retained, despite a steady expansion. Three generations of one family have, for example, represented the company in South Wales.

Many employees have done long service with the firm the senior of these has completed 43 years’ service. Goodwill established by a long tradition of a personal service is still very much a hallmark of the company.

It is the company’s proud claim that Henry Jones patent flour is still produced to the finest possible standard, and as was remarked in 1845, the flour will not "excite criticism of the most gastronomic individual."

Henry Jones, remember, invented self-raising flour. Today, the company, which perpetuates the name of a great pioneer, is in the forefront of an industry which has a place in the everyday life of us all.