King Street

The main thoroughfare extending from the city’s south (alias Conesford) gate northwards was known for centuries as Conesford Street; not until late in the eighteenth century was it called by its present name of King Street. It was always a comparatively narrow and sometimes congested thoroughfare, and the opportunity was taken in the early 1960s to construct Rouen Road as a bypass by demolishing what had become a somewhat derelict and run-down area.

Near Carrow Road and overlooking the river, stands a tall building built in 1837 as a weaving factory, and that for many years served as the Read Woodrow flourmill. It will soon hopefully receive a new lease of life, converted into a number of flats.

Overlooking it from the west is the former churchyard of St Peter Southgate, now a playground. The lower part of the tower with a brick Tudor arch is all that remains of the church itself, which was demolished in 1887 (not 1345 as erroneously stated on an adjoining plaque). A sketch of the building was made by James Sillett in 1828 and a photograph taken shortly before its abandonment is in the Local Collection of the Norwich Central Library.

At a point in King Street just beyond the churchyard of St Peter Southgate, the kerb was realigned to persuade traffic to take the new road to the west, emerging at the upper end of Cattlemarket Street. This also involved the demolition of a number of old King Street properties between St Peter’s and St Etheldreda’s churchyards, including the parish room, a nineteenth-century red-brick building. Immediately to the north was Rayner’s Yard (above), with an old-established bakery (pictured above) on the corner; beyond that, and adjoining St Etheldreda’s churchyard, was other old property including a small shop and the entrance to Rainbow Yard (below).

Quite near here, and probably now covered by this end of Rouen Road, was the site of Hildebrond’s hospital or Ivy Hall, a religious establishment founded in the thirteenth century by Hildebrond, a mercer, and Maud his wife as a kind of almshouse “in which poor People wanting House-Room were to be lodged, and have firing allowed them by the Master”. The site is shown on Francis Blomefield’s map [the eighteenth century Norfolk historian] as being a little to the south of St Etheldreda’s church, and in reply to a query of mine in 1935 Claude Messent stated that “the remains now consist of re-used materials incorporated in later buildings on the site; however, large portions of old flintwork appear in boundary walls to Rayner’s Yard, but as there are later materials in these walls it is difficult to be certain that they are the original walls of the medieval hospital in situ.” This seems to correct a statement he had made a year earlier in his book The Monastic Remains of Norfolk and Suffolk, where he had placed the site some distance further north by Horn’s Lane School.

Opposite to where Rouen Road now merges with King Street and just south of the Ferry inn, known until about 1930 as the Steam Packet, stood the buildings illustrated. Nos 195-197 King Street were of no particular architectural merit, although the latter was notable in having two ranges of weavers’ or “thorough-light” windows to illuminate the attic floor. The exterior was plaster-cast and the roof covered with pantiles. Modern shop fronts had replaced the original casement windows on the ground floor.

A few yards further and we come to a point where Mariner’s Lane (ancient Holgate) originally descended from Ber Street, entering King Street to the north of St Etheldreda’s churchyard. Here until the area was redeveloped, stood a malthouse belonging to the brewery of Youngs, Crawshay and Youngs. This had been converted from a dwelling and was constructed (possibly in the sixteenth century and later) of flint and brick, and with its first floor partly timber framed with a slight jetty. Upon a corbel projecting just below eaves level there appeared to be a coat of arms, or at least some traces of one.

The historian Francis Blomefield referred to the site as that of the house of Sir Robert de Salle, killed by the Norfolk Levellers in 1381. At his death it came to his daughter, Alice de Salle, and was later known as Baist’s Place from some owner of that name.

Just beyond here, on the same side, can still be seen the picturesque seventeenth-century houses (Nos 168-178), known as Ship Row from an inn of that name formerly occupying No 168. The yard to its south has at some time been partly built over, so that while formerly wide enough for the passage of carts it will now accommodate only pedestrians. The finely carved lintel above bears a design of foliage together with the rather contradictory inscription “Princes In”; it is believed that this was brought here at some time from the famous inn of that name, first mentioned in 1391, which once stood in St George Tombland parish on the north side of Princes Street.

Previously owned by Youngs, Crawshay and Youngs, who maintained the buildings in good condition, they were acquired by the City Council in 1959. Five years later No 182, a tall Victorian house, and Nos 170-180 (dated 1632) were converted into three flats and five cottages, and at the same time what was described as “an accretion of old rubbish” at the back (sculleries, sheds and outhouses) was removed and some extra land added to the gardens. In 1970 the public house itself was similarly acquired and converted into two dwellings.

Unfortunately the same treatment could not be given to the houses adjoining to the north, which, because of their condition, had been demolished some years previously. Nos 164-166, which were of flint rubble construction with brick dressings, appeared to be contemporary with Ship Row, but an unusual additional feature was a row of five conjoined dormers unusually constructed of brick rather than lath and plaster.

Nos 158-162 on the other hand were of three storeys, built of brick in the eighteenth century and partly rough-cast.

In May 1939, these houses were the subject of a Ministry inquiry under the 1936 Housing Act. Witnesses called to oppose their demolition described the area as one of the most historic and architecturally attractive corners left in Norwich, and an expert from London was quoted as saying that here were some of the best local examples of Dutch influence. Nos 164 and 166 were described as Elizabethan gabled houses of considerable interest and it was felt that Nos 160 and 162 should also be retained to round off the complete group. In spite of such evidence the Minister agreed with the City Council and they all came down.

We now approach Music House Lane, which was constructed out of the lower reaches of Horns Lane when in the 1960s the whole area between King Street and Ber Street was redeveloped. Writing about the year 1720, the historian John Kirkpatrick stated that Horns Lane (formerly Skeygate) derived its name “from the sign of a pair of Buck’s Horns in Conesford Street, near the lower end of it”.

On the south corner, at 142 King Street, stood the Waterman public house, partly rebuilt between the two World Wars and once famous for displaying the following couplet:

Roam not from Pole to Pole but step in here

Where nought exceeds the shaving but the beer.

The landlord, it should be explained, at one time carried out the dual occupation of barber and publican.

Nos 144-148 which adjoined the Waterman were of much earlier date. The first two dwellings occupied a Tudor building of two storeys only, the upper floor projecting slightly above the pavement and having its plaster facade outlined in imitation of stonework. No 148 was of brick with casement windows and a commodious brick dormer or large dormer which extended through to the back. In latter years the front room was in use as a general shop - in the 1930s the whole of King Street was described as a street of small shopkeepers, before the advent of supermarkets and its depopulation through slum clearance.

Another notable row of houses Nos 132-140 formerly stood to the north of the entry into Horns Lane. While those on the corner were being demolished in 1950 workmen discovered a seventeenth-century Bellarmine jar containing human hair, fingernails and a number of iron nails, believed to have been used in the rituals of witchcraft. Adjoining to the north were three other houses of the seventeenth century and later. Built of flint and brick and faced with plaster, they were of two storeys, one house having a double dormer above while the other two had each a single dormer.

In his book If Stones Could Speak Ralph Mottram remarked upon the scarcity of flint-faced houses in Norwich, by which he no doubt meant knapped flints as opposed to flint rubble. On the east side of King Street at No 131 (immediately opposite the houses we have just reviewed) stood one such, to which added interest was given by a small dormer with its hood-like eaves. Here was formerly an inn with the sign of the Green Man, commemorating the green men or woodwoses of ancient days who, garbed in leaves, played a prominent part in the pageants staged by the various trade guilds. Occasionally, however, Robin Hood was depicted. The building was converted into a dwelling house in the early 1920s, but shortly before the war it fell into decay and was demolished some years later.

Adjacent, and to the south of the renowned Dragon Hall, is another building of note, that comprising Nos 125-129. When photographed in 1936 its half-timbered upper storey had for long been hidden under plaster, but some ten years later the plaster was removed to reveal its sturdy construction of timber and brick. After a few more years its owners chose to rip out the entire ground floor, replacing the modest nineteenth-century shop fronts with a continuous range of plate glass and leaving the medieval first floor suspended as it were mid-air.

Opposite Old Barge Yard and Dragon Hall is one of the two entrances to St Julian’s Alley. The other “arm” of the lane is a few yards further south and skirts the east end of the churchyard before linking up with the main part to the north of the church. It now opens directly into modern Rouen Road, but before the area was cleared it led to St Julian’s Street, the centre of a network of nineteenth-century terraced houses.

Many of the buildings illustrated so far were demolished under slum clearance or other redevelopment schemes. Enemy action, however, was the cause of the destruction of St Julian’s Church.

To which of the saints named Julian the church is dedicated is uncertain - the parishioners at different times seem to have adopted the one which suited their purpose best. Ian Hannah, following Blomefield’s errors called it “St Julian King and Confessor”, but this is really a contraction of the title “St Julian with St Edward King and Confessor”. A church of St Edward formerly stood between this one and that of St Etheldreda, the two rectories being united at some time between 1269 and 1305. After the Dissolution St Edward’s fell into disuse, and although early in the eighteenth century its ruins were still visible all traces of it have long since vanished.

Before the Second World War St Julian’s consisted of an aisleless nave and chancel, north porch, south vestry and a round western tower, the latter considered to be of Saxo-Norman date. In 1940 when a visit was paid by the Norfolk and Norwich Archaeological Society, Arthur Whittingham pointed out how its walls were levelled up every foot or so instead of being coursed. Other typical features of that period included blocked circular windows to the east and west and traces of a round-headed west doorway. Although the body of the church appeared to have been rebuilt several centuries later, inspection revealed that the plan and much of the fabric remained from the earlier period. St Julian’s, therefore, was probably one of the twenty-nine new churches mentioned in Domesday as having been built in the city between 1065 and 1086.

Most of the interior fittings were of modern date, including the screen, which was made a little too long and had to be set in the chancel arch slightly askew. The original round-headed Saxon or Norman chancel arch was destroyed in about 1460, when it was replaced by one in the contemporary pointed style. At about this time, too, the finely carved bosses of the chancel ceiling were made.

The small octagonal font was of some interest. Dating from the Perpendicular period, it had suffered a certain amount of mutilation at different times. The shaft was covered with shallow panels, once probably containing figures of saints, while the eight panels of the bowls had angels holding shields. These formerly bore painted coats-of-arms, but all traces of these disappeared in 1845 when workmen scraped off numerous coats of whitewash and with them the remains of the figures around the stem.

Inside the tower was one bell inscribed AVE GRACIA PLENA DOMINUS TECUM. On its crown were three shields, the mark of the fifteenth-century bellfounder Richard Brayser.

During the early hours of Saturday morning, 27th June 1942, German raiders flew over the city causing widespread damage, mainly by fire, particularly in the St Stephen’s Street and Ber Street area. In King Street high-explosive bombs caused the destruction of St Julian’s. A shapeless heap of rubble was all that was left of the tower; of the remainder of the church only the north and east walls were left standing.

Thus did it remain until nearly ten years later, when work was put in hand to clear away the rubble and rebuild the church. As much as possible of the surviving fabric was retained, in particular the north wall of the nave with its circular Norman window. A fifteenth-century font brought from the redundant All Saints’ church took the place of that which had been broken beyond repair, while a Norman doorway from the neighbouring church of St Michael-at-Thorn, gutted during the same raid, replaced one of similar date, which had been sketched and etched by John Sell Cotman. This now gives access from the nave to a sacristy built on foundations, laid bare in 1906, of what was thought at the time to have been the cell of Dame Julian, the fourteenth-century anchoress or religious recluse, famous for the series of visions vouchsafed to her. Descriptions of these visions have been published in several editions under the title of Revelations of Divine Love.

Apart from the destruction of the church, most of the damage in this area during the war was confined to modern business premises. The quaint Tudor dwelling which stood by the south corner of St Julian’s Alley with King Street, however, was not so fortunate as its more illustrious neighbours, the Old Barge inn, Howard House and the Music House, and was wrecked at the same time as the adjacent church.

Proceeding north, we soon approach what was Morgan’s brewery. Built into a wall on the east side of the street are some fragments of stone with these inscriptions: “Historic Interest of this Site. Late 13th century church of St Michael. Early 14th century to mid 16th century Monastery of the Austin Friars incorporating the above Church”. “This Stone Arch was found in masonry thought to be an old Tomb, during excavations on this Site in 1946. It was erected here in 1948 and re-erected in 1970.”

The site of the church, known as St Michael-in-Conesford, is shown by the historian Francis Blomefield in his plan of the city as being midway between St Anne’s Lane and Mountergate. Records concerning it date back to 1183, when it was possessed by the Abbot of St Benet’s-at-Holme, but from 1293 onwards the Austin Friars gradually acquired adjoining land and houses; by about 1360 they had taken over the whole of the parish on that side of the street. The demolition of the church soon followed, and it was replaced by “a noble Cloister and Conventional Church ... inclosed … with a high wall”.

Seized by Henry VIII at the time of the Dissolution it subsequently passed through many hands. In the mid-seventeenth century the site was owned by Henry Howard who afterwards became Lord Howard of Castle Rising. He it was, who about 1660 built the existing house (pictured), whose chief feature is its remarkable staircase. Described as one of the most elaborate of its kind in England, this staircase has openwork panels in strapwork designs instead of balusters. On the south front of Howard House a sundial dated 1840 bears the initials C.S. - those of Dr Christopher Spencer, the owner - while immediately adjoining the house the remains of a substantial flint wall may well be a surviving fragment of the old precinct wall of the Friary. When the house was first built the adjoining grounds were laid out as “a place of walking and recreation”, and a century later were still being referred to as “My Lord’s Gardens”.

Just north of Stepping Lane is a half-timbered building, which in the fifteenth century might have formed part of the house of Sir John Heydon, Recorder of Norwich in 1431. It is also said to have been a residence of the Berney family. Richard Berney’s tomb (he died in 1623) may still be seen in the neighbouring church of St Peter Parmentergate.

Shortly before reaching the traffic lights at Rose Lane we come to an open space on the eastern side of the way which marks the site of Nos 47-51, King Street - houses which formerly bounded Murrell’s Yard. Of these Walter Rye wrote in 1916 that they were “noticeable for having portions of some of the original open shop fronts and a little late Gothic window upstairs…I should date the block about 1450”. Some time before 1936 however, when the photograph was taken, some disaster had befallen No 51 resulting in the loss of its upper storey, and all three shops have since been swept away. No 45, a separate structure to the north, still stands, and is timber framed (as were its neighbours), with its plastered upper front jettied out slightly over the pavement. It probably dates from the sixteenth century and later, although the present shop front is of course modern.

Murrell’s Yard itself was formerly approached through an opening spanned by a wooden archway, sketched by John W. Howard c.1890, and which he described as “ancient but rather ugly”. Within the yard stood another doorway that he also sketched, the spandrels of which are understood to have been transferred to the Norwich Castle museum c.1926. It had the arms of East Anglia in one spandrel, and in the other a bell in a letter “R” - the rebus of Robert Bell, who was admitted to the freedom of the city in the reign of King Henry VII. At the time of Edward VI the property belonged to Henry Humphrey, a draper. The houses seen here were of seventeenth-century origin, brick with lath and plaster dormers and having roofs made up of a patchwork of English plain tiles and more modern pantiles. All were demolished in May 1939, and for a while a brick air raid shelter occupied the site.

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