I can’t recall the last time that I was in Norwich when it was snowing, but overnight there was a reasonable covering over the city. This morning it continued to snow and so it looks like it might be here for a little while yet. This post is mostly photos, a couple of Norwich Cathedral and the rest from Mousehold Heath which felt positively Austrian in the snow….. There were already a few people tobogganing at Mousehold and I imagine there will be many more children there this afternoon.
Whilst looking for information about a different John Burrows buried at Rosary Cemetery, I found a story in the Norwich Mercury from August 1834 about how a butcher named John Burrows refused to pay for his stall at Norwich Market. He claimed that as a freeman of the city that he shouldn’t have to pay the sums which the City Corporation said were owed by him.
A special jury had been called to hear the case and there was a busy courtroom of Norwich freemen and other market traders who wanted to see how this would all turn out. If I’m being honest, this is the sort of excitement that would have made me turn up in court, a fascinating bit of drama being played out. I can imagine it was portrayed by some as an honest and hard working local man against the might of the greedy City Corporation.
The City Corporation explained that they wanted their 16s 1d from John Burrows, as he had been trading at the market as a butcher at a stall whilst knowing the costs involved. They claimed that there was no right of exemption and if there ever had been, then it was no longer in force. The Corporation wanted this settled as otherwise there would be other people not paying their bills and the market administration would soon descend into some sort of farce.
Richard Harman was called as a witness and he had been the clerk of the market for 38 years, which to be fair did make him something of an expert about the local arrangements. Burrows was not content at this and his defense team made a call for Harman’s evidence to be rejected as he was an interested witness as a collector of fees at the market, so he couldn’t be independent. The court said that it would note this, but that Harman was still entitled to speak to the court to explain the situation. I can understand why, it’d be hard to find anyone of Harman’s experience to try and give insight to this situation.
Harman explained that there were something like 300 or 400 notices at the market explaining the rates that were charged. This sounds like the bureaucracy that I can imagine from a city council, so is no doubt true. He added that he also understood that Norwich Market was corporate property and that the Norwich Corporation could build on it and charge accordingly if they so wished.
The defense team wanted to know where the charter was that gave the City Corporation the right to charge monies and they raised the point that without such evidence that the Corporation could lay any charge they wanted on their client. I can honestly almost feel the murmurings of support in the court for that line of argument. They said that custom meant that if a practice had gone on for 60 years, it might be seen as acceptable. But the market’s Richard Harman had worked there for 38 years, so there were still 22 years that weren’t explained before that.
The historical argument continued; the defense said that the only way that the City Corporation could have any right to the market was by the Charter of King Henry II, or “one of the Henrys” (that argument seems slightly vague, but there we go), and in that the waste grounds were given to the City Corporation. If that was the case, then the city freemen, who were a part of the corporate body, would have free access to it.
The chairman of this committee, who I can imagine was entirely confused by what had turned into an historical debate, said that it was foreign to his duty to enter into discussions about charters and corporations. I think that’s legal speak for he didn’t have a clue what was going on and probably wanted to go home. He asked the jury to give a decision based on what they’d heard, thereby resolving this predicament.
It took the jury 15 minutes to decide what to do. John Burrows was ordered to pay the City Corporation all the monies which he owed. I have to say, this is a little bit of an anti-climax to what could have caused the city no end of difficulties to try and resolve. But, Burrows was not giving up and he announced that he still wasn’t paying it.
Now, the City Corporation had a choice here of how it wanted to act. Did it want to be graceful and try and find a workable option on how to progress, especially given some officials wanted a resolution? No, it issued a debtors order against Burrows and he was sent to Fleet Prison in London. I’m not sure that much has changed here with the arrangements that councils go through, but there we go….
A group of Norwich freemen were not content about this and in September, they met at a pub in St. George’s Street in Norwich to discuss what to do. It was agreed that funds would be raised to clear the debts of Burrows and also for clarification of the laws and rules that the City Corporation were following.
In November 1834, the court said that a petition would be heard the following week at the Court House on Portugal Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, which effectively meant that he would be discharged from his debts and released from prison. The subscriptions had been successful and Burrows was free once again, although he had had to endure a couple of months in prison. There’s something of the recent shopkeepers claiming rights dating back to the Magna Carta (a case without merit, but that’s for others to explain) going to court, with the outcome perhaps inevitably the same. But, at least it was some drama for the people of Norwich….
This village was on the walk that I went on recently, located on the A146 towards Loddon. I’m sure that this must have caused inconvenience and confusion before, but the village isn’t that far away from the similarly named Thurlton.
The Concise Oxford Dictionary Of English Place Names notes:
Thurton, Norfolk. Tortuna in Domesday Book, Thermtona in 1150, Thuriton in 1248 and Thurnton in 1302. From the Old English ‘thorn-bush’.
Relatively little has changed in the village, other than the Norwich Road has been straightened, as it formerly followed the route of what is shown above as the Loddon Road. Some of the old businesses in the village have gone, but it seems that the George & Dragon pub is still trading.
I thought this was interesting, the circular marks on the modern day map on the right. When looking at an historic map on the left, they make sense as they are tumuli, or ancient barrow mounds. There were also numerous Roman coins found at the site, so it seems that there was something of a settlement here.
This is the grave of Samuel Brock which is located in Rosary Cemetery in Norwich.
Samuel was born in 1810 and he married Ann Steward at St. John the Baptist Church in Old Lakenham (a church I visited a couple of weeks ago) on 27 October 1834.
At the 1841 census, Samuel and Ann were living on Middle Street in the St. Augustine parish of Norwich. They lived with their sons Samuel, aged 4, and William, a new-born. Samuel appeared on the electoral registers at this time, because he operated a shop on Middle Street. This street name changed to become the northern end of St. George’s Street where it met Botolph Street, and this area has now been partly demolished.
At the 1851 census, the couple were living on Botolph Street along with their son Henry, aged 16, and a servant Mary A Wells, who was aged 17. Samuel was working as a baker, by this time having a shop on Botolph Street, and Henry was still studying. This didn’t help the family in terms of their finances, as the local press reported in 1857 that Samuel had gone insolvent. And for this ‘crime’, Samuel was sent to Norwich prison, although I can’t find out for how long. However, there’s no record of any of Samuel’s family in the 1861 census.
At the 1871 census, the couple were living at Howletts Yard, located off Botolph Street. This yard had fifteen houses and was demolished as part of the city’s slum clearance in 1935. Botolph Street used to link Augustine Street to Magdalen Street, a part of Norwich wrecked by the Anglia Square development.
Howletts Yard isn’t marked on this map from the 1920s, but it’s the one above Cat & Fiddle Yard. The house that Samuel Brock and his wife lived in is where Iceland now stands on Anglia Square.
Samuel died on 15 August 1874 at the age of 64 and his son, Samuel jr, took over the bakery. A notice in the Norfolk News said “Samuel died after a long affliction, borne with Christian fortitude”.
At the time of the 1881 census, Ann lived with her son Samuel jr on Botolph Street, along with Anna, his wife, and their children Harry and Anna (there are a lot of Ann or Anne Brocks in this story). Ann Brock died on 11 March 1883 at the age of 72.
There isn’t perhaps much of a story to tell about Samuel Brock beyond where he was living and what he did. But, it’s a slice (excuse the pun) of a baker’s life in the north of the city centre, in an area which has now nearly entirely been demolished. What I have found out about Samuel is that his finances sound challenging and his health seems to have been poor, this could not have been an easy life.
The Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue was first published at the end of the eighteenth century, and given that the current health crisis is giving too much time to read books, I thought I’d pick a daily word from it until I got bored…. And to catch up after getting behind with these posts, and because I’m getting towards the end of the book, I’m doing three days at once now. How lovely….
Pull
I have nothing to add to this definition, which is “to be arrested by a police officer” other than to note that I’m surprised it has been used since at least the end of the eighteenth century. It was also used to describe other parts of the judicial process, including being taken before a magistrate or being searched on the street.
Pump Water
“He was christened in pump water; commonly said of a person with a red face” is how Grose defines this phrase, a usage that seems limited to the late eighteenth century period. It’s also a reminder of the state of some water supplies, notably in cities, at the time. The phrase has also been used to define crying, although that dates to a little later in the nineteenth century.
Purl
Back to alcohol again, this is defined as “ale in which wormwood has been infused, or ale and bitters drunk warm”. This is a whole area of brewing which has mostly been lost, although some of its influences remain. Vermouth is a wine which was once flavoured with wormwood and absinthe is made with grand wormwood.
The drink likely had something of a woody feel to it and sometimes that would have been tempered with the addition of orange peel. But, it would have had flavour to it, which many beers from this period simply wouldn’t have had much of. The drink was often consumed in the morning and would have been more for its restorative benefits than anything else.
Purl Bar in London takes its name from the drink and they briefly mention this old style of beer on their web-site. Northern Monk also produced a beer called Purl which was brewed with few hops (as these wouldn’t have been around in the brewing process back in Grose’s times) and was flavoured with wormwood, orange peel and juniper. This sounds rather lovely, but, unfortunately, it has been out of production for some years.
This caught my eye yesterday at Rosary Cemetery and I’m not sure how I haven’t seen it before, the war grave of Corporal Alexander Thomas Lewthwaite.
There aren’t that many war graves at the Rosary Cemetery, they’re mostly at Earlham Cemetery which has two areas to commemorate the war dead. There are though 31 war dead at the Rosary Cemetery, with 19 having lost their lives in the First World War and their details are above.
Alexander was born in Manor Park, West Ham in London (although then technically in Essex) in 1896, the son of Robert Kendrew Lewthwaite and Leonora Lewthwaite. By 1901, his family had moved to Croydon Road, Caterham, Godstone which was in Surrey. Alexander was by then five and he lived with his parents, then both aged 40, along with Robert P (aged 9), Leonora Hilda (aged 8) and Evelyn May (aged 6).
The family had moved again by the 1911 census and it’s clear that there was a difference of opinion somewhere along the line between Robert and Leonora, primarily since they had “judicially separated” according to the census. This is a legal term which can still be used today, to signify that the couple are no longer living together, but they do remain married. This wasn’t entirely uncommon at the time, but I suspect that Leonora would have faced some social disapproval when people discovered her arrangements.
Whatever the reason was that Leonora had to move, she was living in Claxton in 1911, along with Leonora Hilda (aged 18), Evelyn Mary (aged 16), Alexander (aged 15), Kathleen Errol (aged 9) and servants. The family moved again over the next few years, this time to 2 Lakenham Terrace in Norwich.
Alexander enlisted into the military (service number 22755) on 4 December 1915, by which time he was 19, standing 5’10” tall and weighing 9 stone. He remained at his home base until 5 December 1915, before returning to Norwich on 22 January 1916, so it doesn’t seem he saw any front line military action. He went to Colchester between 23 January and 16 March 1916, then remained training in Essex.
It was at that training at Ray Farm Encampment (which was near to Parkeston in Essex, next to Harwich) that something dreadful happened. During some firearms training, Alexander was shot by Alfred Ernest Turner and he died nearly immediately from brain injuries caused from that rifle bullet. This was a mystery then and actually still is today, they weren’t using live ammunition and so the death just shouldn’t have happened.
The police came to investigate and an inquest was held the next day which heard from some of the men at the site. There was a decision that this was “an accidental death causing injury to the brain”. Alexander was aged just 20.
This is the letter sent on the day of the death in an attempt to establish the circumstances of what happened. As an aside here, these are part of the burnt documents which were damaged following an air raid in September 1940. The bomb destroyed two thirds of the military records which were stored at Arnside Street in London, about 4 million pages were lost. These ones were salvaged from the fire, but unfortunately were badly damaged.
Sergeant Walter Crane, who was in charge of the recruits, explained what had happened.
William Murrell Claxton came to investigate the matter from a police perspective.
The explanation of the matter to the inquest from Charles Kenneth Hatherall Wyche.
And, the testimony from the man who fired the gun which had fatal consequences, Alfred Ernest Turner.
As for what actually happened, it’s clear no-one really knows. Alfred was clearly questioned about whether he had deliberately killed Alexander, which remains a possibility although there’s no obvious motive.
I don’t understand what happened with Alexander’s grave at the Rosary Cemetery, as it seems that his gravestone was added following his death and there’s no reason why his body wouldn’t have been buried. There was though a new gravestone made in 1996, perhaps just because the old one was damaged. I’m unsure of why his grave is where it is in the Rosary Cemetery, it’s in an unusual place next to an older tomb and that doesn’t seem to have a familial link.
What isn’t recorded is what Alexander’s parents thought of what had happened. It might be enormously difficult to lose a son during the First World War, but the pain of this must have been compounded by the circumstances of how he lost his life. It’s unclear to me whether anything sinister took place or it was just incompetence, but, either way, this was perhaps a life needlessly lost.
Although Norwich doesn’t have anywhere near as much defensive wall left compared to cities such as York and Chester, there are still surviving stretches. There are also very few sections of wall in Norwich which can be walked on today, with this stretch having none of the original walkway left.
The stretches of wall that do survive have often only done so because later properties were built onto them. As an aside, I quite like the thought of the school playground backing onto the city wall, I wonder if the children had an understanding of how important the structure once was. If they did, I suspect they’d be rather disappointed that they couldn’t walk along it whilst pretending to be medieval soldiers defending Norwich from barbarians.
In the above map from the 1880s, there was once a school, memorial hall and some residential properties along here, on what is now a car park. The wall that they back onto is much repaired and likely formed part of the rear of the later structures. The area here is a little barren now, but it would have been bustling and it was located opposite the Pockthorpe Brewery which would have added extra atmosphere and brewing smells. At least though the area around this tower has been smartened up over the last fifty years, this photo from George Plunkett is from 1970.
The tower dates to the 1320s and the interior likely collapsed some centuries ago. It’s not entirely clear whether the building was repurposed for anything in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but I’d suspect that some enterprising soul did something with it. Perhaps in some cases the tower would have been reused for building material, but there’s no fine stonework here for local builders over the centuries to pinch in the way that many religious structures had following the Dissolution of the Monasteries, it’s just a lot of flints and rubble.
What’s left inside of the tower, which had two storeys, with the lower floor being vaulted. There’s a growing amount of foliage on the structure as well which will probably need attention in the years to come.
The course of the wall is marked out where it leads from the tower towards the River Wensum. It would have also met the Pockthorpe Gate (or Barregates) at this point. As an aside, the land is higher today than when the walls and tower were built, which gives a distorted view now of how tall they were.
Pockthorpe Gate was taken down at the end of the eighteenth century, a period when much of the wall was lost.
So, it’s unfortunate that much of the city wall has been lost, but at least stretches do survive thanks to their being repurposed and partly incorporated into newer buildings. It means that the wall is much repaired in places, including some patches which look distinctly Victorian, but that does just all add to the history of this structure and its part in Norwich’s story.
I wrote a few weeks ago about Alan George Gibling and how his name was wrong on the CWGC web-site. I’m pleased that following the documents that I sent them that Alan’s details have been corrected on all of their systems and his information is now correct. It’s probably not really important in the scale of world problems, but I like that a long-standing error has now been put right.
This visit to the Bolton in Earls Court was last year, before the pubs in London were shut down by one of the later lockdowns.
The pub was built in the 1890s and although the Victorian interior has been largely replaced, it’s still got a comfortable and historic feel to it.
The beer selection was better than I had anticipated it would be, especially given the challenging trading conditions at the time. The Tiny Rebel Stay Puft Imperial Eggnog Marshmallow White Porter was excellent, a richness of flavour and Beer and Brewing Magazine have an interesting take on the whole white porter/stout issue. Looking at Untappd, the score for this beer isn’t that high, although that does seem perhaps a little harsh given the innovative concept which seemed to me to have worked. The Forest Bänger by Põhjala was a reminder to myself that I will hopefully get to Estonia in 2021, a lovely flavoured beer with only the minor problem to me that the mouthfeel was a bit thin and it needed some more body. But, two very decent beers. Oh, and just for Nathan, both beers were at the appropriate temperature. And, just for Liam, the label on the pump clip looked exciting.
In normal times, the pub has a themed Dutch bar upstairs, Proeflokaal Rembrandt. This bar has over 100 different Dutch and Belgian beers, along with having themed evenings with local Dutch cuisine. Alongside more substantial meals they of course have Bitterballen, but they also have Bierbitterballe which have a beer batter. I’m very tempted indeed….. Shame they don’t have a FEBO selection, but I’m not sure that they would consider this fine Dutch cuisine (even if I do).
That’s a decorative ceiling in the toilets…..
I visited at a time when customers had to order food alongside their drink, and the fish and chips was absolutely fine. The portion size looks a little small in this photo, although that’s partly to do with the size of the plate. The fish was tender, the batter was crispy and flavourful and just as importantly it wasn’t greasy. The chips were firm and appropriately cooked, so everything was as I expected. Perhaps it wasn’t exceptional, but tasty and hot is certainly good enough.
The staff were engaging and keen to help, despite some very trying circumstances at the time (I mean the health issues, not me as a customer). There was perhaps some slight confusion as to their policy on how many drinks a customer could have with their substantial meal, but the eventual conclusion seemed to be that it was fine to have a few drinks as long a meal was ordered. The pub did get relatively busy, although that was partly because a quiz was taking place. I’m not particularly much of a fan of quizzes and I’m not sure it did much for the atmosphere, but if it brings customers in then that’s all good. There was also something of a community feel to the whole arrangement as well, despite the large size of the building which can often make things seem a little anonymous.
I liked this pub, the Dutch vibe running throughout the concept, the selection of beers and the cleanliness of the venue all made for a comfortable visit. It’s a shame that they’ve picked up a few negative reviews recently because customers didn’t like how they were dealing with the current health restrictions. The complaints seem to be rather unfair, but at least we knew that the pub was taking the rules and regulations seriously to protect customers and staff. This is another pub that I’d go back to, and likely will when I next go to the Ibis Styles in Kensington….
Part of my Streets of Norwich project….
As can be seen from the graffiti over the signage, this isn’t the most salubrious street in Norwich. It connects White Lion Street with Red Lion Street and as the sign says, it used to be known as Castledyck Lane as is led to the castle ditches (now Castle Meadow).
The street isn’t marked on this 1870s map, but it’s the narrow street next to York Tavern, from which the street takes its name. The street layout here has changed, the building below York Tavern on the map has been demolished to allow trams to get through to Castle Meadow. The York Tavern opened in the late eighteenth century and continued trading until 1964, with the building still standing and now used for retail.
The tram line cut through the middle is visible in this later map from the 1920s.
This information board really isn’t the most usefully placed.
Using my camera to zoom in, it’s a reminder that on 17 June 1902 there was a meeting at the Criterion Cafe, where Norwich City Football Club were established.
