St Benedict’s Street

A sketch of St Benedict’s Gate made by the historian John Kirkpatrick in 1720 recorded that it had a square tower above the archway, which was of considerable width, with a two-light pointed window overlooking the inner side and the following inscription facing the west:

TEMPORE HENRICI WATTS
MAIORIS CIVITATIS NORWICI,
ANNO DOM’NI 1646

A watch turret adjoined to the south. All was demolished, except for the south abutment, with one of the hinge-pins, in 1793.

The brick-arched opening to be seen in the two photographs is not to be confused with the gate, for this was pierced through the wall in 1930 when some decrepit property adjoining to the west was pulled down. Thus, not only was the wall shown off to much better advantage but it was also possible to widen the carriageway by setting back the footpath.

In the raid of April 1942, all the wall shown in the second photograph was blown down, but the gatehouse abutment still stood, albeit considerably cracked and out of true, on the very edge of a large bomb crater. Because of its condition it was later entirely cleared away, and so the last remnant of the gates belonging to the city’s fortifications was destroyed as a result of enemy action.

Among other old property destroyed at this time was the Fountain public house (left) at 89 St Benedict’s Street, on the corner of St Benedict’s Back Lane. This was one of the city’s old coaching inns and was in existence two hundred or more years ago, as evidenced by an advertisement in the Norwich Gazette of 17th November 1741, quoted in full by Walter Wicks. The gist of it was that anybody indebted to the landlord was instructed that by spending sixpence in jorams of beer - ready money – the debtor would have a like amount deducted from his debt or debts, provided that the whole debt was cleared within six months, otherwise prosecution would follow. Mr Wicks thought that the landlord (William Gray, alias Major Gray) was the originator of this “new way to pay off old debts”, but a rather similar notice relating to the Duke’s Palace inn had appeared on 14th March 1724, signed by landlord John Burges.
Further down the street at No 67 (right) stood a Tudor house of three storeys, if one included the attic lit by three modern-looking flat roofed dormers. The exterior walls had received a smooth coating of plaster, hiding from view the timber framework other than the joist-ends forming the first floor jetty. This was until the 1930s the Beehive public house, one of several in the city with that sign; after the licence was given up the adjoining yard continued to bear the name. According to Larwood and Hotten, insects very rarely occur on inn signboards. Bees were the exception, their habitation being made a favourite object, to imply a similar industry on the part of the landlord.
Across the street, a bank now stands adjacent to the city wall at the corner of Wellington Lane. Here before the war were buildings of three storeys having cement-rendered walls, slightly overhung at first-floor level and lit by sash windows, except on the top floor of No 108 which retained an old thoroughlight. No 110 (pictured left with 108) was for many years Pimm’s the grocers, while a barber’s shop was next door at No 108. Between the two a covered passageway spanned by a wooden arch led to houses in Little White Lion Yard, but these were demolished in 1938 along with other adjoining property in Duck Lane, as this end of Wellington Lane used to be called.
St Benedict’s church (right) was another sad loss caused by that April raid, only its round Norman tower now surviving to mark the site. The church was not a large one. As well as the tower with its octagonal fourteenth-century belfry, it consisted of a clerestoried nave with north aisle, north and south porches and a chancel. All the external walls except for those of the tower and south porch had been faced with plaster. The roof was of slate.

Before the war the tower contained two bells, although when L’Estrange made his survey in 1874 there were three, inscribed:

(1) John Brend made me 1636.
(2) Elias Brend made me 1659 E.T. E.S.
(3) FILII DEI VIVI MISERERE NOBIS ANNO DOMINI 1573

The body of the church exhibited several styles, but that of the Perpendicular period predominated. The arcading between aisle and nave had been altered at some time during the nineteenth century by the substitution of iron posts for two of its three pillars. A single wide four-centred arch, bent towards the south, separated aisle from chancel. The supporting timbers of the nave roof were open to view, but the chancel had a ceiled semicircular vault; the arch dividing it from the nave was supported by angels.

The majority of the interior fittings were modern, but there was a fine (though mutilated) stone font (below) of the fifteenth century, which has standing figures around the stem and a seated one within each of the eight panels of the bowl.

During the raids the south wall of the church collapsed, and with it the roof, leaving only the tower with its belfry (damaged but since repaired), the north aisle with its arcading to the nave, the north wall of the chancel, the north porch and the font; the latter was later removed for installation elsewhere.

Archaeological excavations were carried out here in 1972, when four mediaeval building periods were identified, along with traces of earlier religious uses of the site. The first church, possibly dating from late in the eleventh century, was a simple one of nave and small apsidal chancel only. This was followed about a century later by the building of a tower and enlargement of the chancel, which was then made square-ended. In the third building phase all but the tower was demolished, to be replaced, perhaps early in the fourteenth century, by a slightly larger church having nave and chancel of equal width. Finally, during the fifteenth century the church was again rebuilt, to take on the form that survived up to 1942.

That the north aisle had been built by 1484 is indicated by the historian Francis Blomefield, who stated that in that year “William King was buried in the Church, and made, and glazed a new Window in the North Isle”. Certain modifications carried out during succeeding centuries, particularly during Victoria’s reign, involved extensive restoration, when much of the east wall was rebuilt and the exterior completely refaced. Sillett’s view of the north side of the church, made in 1828, shows that the nave and aisle roofs were then leaded and the chancel tiled; the slates were therefore put on after this time.

Detailed reports by Alan Carter and others on excavations which have taken place both here and elsewhere in the district will be found in the pages of Norfolk Archaeology and East Anglian Archaeology, from which the above notes have been drawn.

Once past the site of the church, the architecture of St Benedict’s Street has altered surprisingly little; the openings to many of the old yards remain, though little is left of the cottages they once contained. Many of their nameplates, such as those of Adam and Eve Yard and Cardinal’s Cap Yard (the latter now gone), commemorated one-time taverns. The former, according to Walter Wicks, stood at the bottom of St Benedict’s Church Alley and was once kept by a landlord rejoicing in the name of Cain Abel! The other, which closed down as a licensed house only within recent years, is believed to have been named in honour of Cardinal Wolsey’s visits in 1517 and 1520; on the second occasion he and Queen Catherine were entertained by the city.

The front of the building, particularly on the ground floor, has been much altered, but the yard to the left continues to present a quite different picture. Here one sees a pleasing display of original black timberwork alternating with cream-coloured plaster. Casement windows, one containing diamond-shaped leaded lights and apparently ancient, help to present a scene which could well hold its own against that displayed by any other small courtyard of a similar period in the city. The small dormer in the roof, however, shown in my photograph, has since been removed.

If there is one thing that makes the loss of St Benedict’s Church a little more bearable, it is the fact that the street still has no fewer than three others - four if one includes that of St Gregory at its junction with Charing Cross.

The first one we encounter is that of St Swithin, on the north side of the street, almost opposite Ten Bell Lane. Declared redundant since the war, it was once at the hub of a flourishing parish. When at the turn of the century, the Rev. John Sawbridge was appointed to the joint livings of St Swithin and St Margaret he found the latter a thriving church; St Swithin’s, however, was in a deplorable state. Though the church had formerly possessed a square embattled tower, this had become so dangerous that in 1881 it had had to be demolished, to the benefit of the adjoining alley, which until then had been barely a yard wide at that point.

Misericords in St Swithin’s:-

Anxious to get things remedied, the new rector called a meeting to decide whether to turn the church into a parish hall or to keep it as a church and build a hall separately. The latter arrangement was eventually agreed upon, after an anonymous benefactor had come forward with a promise to finance the scheme. He was as good as his word, and by 1910 H. H. Prince Frederick Duleep Singh, who had written a memoir on the church, was able to comment on its judicious restoration, adding that “all Norfolk antiquarians owe this gentleman a deep debt of gratitude”.

Mr Sawbridge remained here for some fifteen years, seeing the buildings put to full use. He then left for London and later Mildenhall, returning eventually to Norfolk, where he died at Newton Flotman rectory in 1955, aged seventy-eight. A few years before his death he revisited St Swithin’s and was saddened to see it once more neglected, but he realised that whereas fifty years previously the district between St Benedict’s and Westwick Street had had a population of some 1,100, it had since dwindled to fewer than a hundred. Were he alive today he would no doubt be much heartened to see it again in full use, this time as an arts centre; he might have some reservations concerning the church itself.

His other church, St Margaret’s, always appeared well kept; although damaged by raiders during the war it was later repaired, the tower in 1948, the remainder by 1951.

In 1965, while the church was still in use as a place of worship, it was decided to take down four of the bells, of which two had come earlier from St Swithin’s, and to transfer then to St Andrew’s Church, Holt, to make up their peal. Two years later a new stained-glass window, the work of Michael King, was fitted into the east end of the church. Its subject, the Ascension, was described at the time of its unveiling as “a modern representation without any clearly recognisable figures, the window is a blaze of colour, which shows up all the more in the clear white light of the remainder of the church, and gives a wonderful impression of Christ ascending”.

By January 1977, the church had come under the threat of redundancy. The remaining bell was transferred to Morley St Botolph, and the building was subsequently stripped of its furnishings; by 1981 it was in use as a gymnasium.

When I visited here in 1937 to record some of its treasures the font seemed the most prominent feature. Of its three elements, the bowl displayed a circle enclosing a shield on each of its eight sides; engaged columns supported the shaft, and a tall pedestal, the sides of which were enriched with quatrefoils enclosing Tudor roses, raised it some two feet or so above the ground.
The late fourteenth-century chest was also noteworthy; it had traceried panels greatly resembling those on a chest of similar age at Litcham.

Hastening on towards Charing Cross, we pass our third redundant church, St Lawrence, at present the subject of an appeal for funds to complete its restoration. Much work has already been done towards safeguarding the structure, in particular the strengthening of the exterior stonework of the clerestory; some of the retaining wall on the Westwick Street side of the churchyard had to be virtually rebuilt.

St Gregory’s church, lying between Charing Cross and Pottergate, has now come on happier times. Following extensive restoration its use as a costume museum was considered and eventually vetoed, since when it has been taken over by the Friends of St Gregory’s as a music and drama centre.

Text and photographs Copyright © G.A.F.Plunkett 2004

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