Norwich (Again....)

Deep in the heart of Norfolk....

Handstands in the cloisters..... It takes all sorts..... Though I am not sure that Herbert de Losinga (he that built this place) would approve..... Herbert was the first Bishop here and apparently he founded the abbey to atone for the sin of bribery, which he had used to get the job in the first place.  How things change, Eh?  Can't imagine that sort of behaviour in this dayanage..... [How very Trumpian.  Ed]

Still it is a beautiful romanesque building, though there have been many changes over the centuries.... It didn't have a golden weathercock-topped (possibly since 1668) spire (at 315 feet - 96 metres - second only in height to Salisbury in this country), nor a clerestory, until the fifteenth century.

The spire, by the way, is now a breeding ground for Peregrines, which are monitored with a webcam by the Hawk and Owl Trust in the season.....

And nor did the Cathedral have a copper font, (gifted in 1994) once used for boiling toffee in Rowntree's Norwich chocolate business, [Sweet?  Ed]:

The building was begun in 1109, using limestone imported from Caen and ferried up the waterways from Yarmouth to where the Wensum washes the Cathedral precincts.  But the original timber roof was replaced with beautiful stone vaulting in 1460:

And the perpendicular style fan vaulting is embellished with hundreds of medieval bosses which, in the nave, tell the stories of the Bible’s New and Old Testaments from Creation to the Last Judgement:

Though the extent of the nave is blocked by the Stephen Dykes Bower organ, installed above the pulpitum in 1950, the presbytery was once Losinga's throne room, and the apse with its chapels and chantries are part of the original splendour of this great building.  To the north side is the Jesus Chapel which is a model of Norman simplicity: 

While the similar St Luke's Chapel to the south  contains the Despenser Reredos (commissioned by Bishop le Despenser to celebrate his suppression of local support for the Peasants' Revolt in 1381) the only remaining medieval English altarpiece with scenes from Christ's passion (see earlier blog piece, link below, for picture).  This remarkable work was disguised as the underside of a table until 1847, which may explain its survival.  Also here, above the ancient font, hangs a Chrismatory, containing Holy Oils for anointing and healing - recognising that St Luke was a doctor.... 

Just outside St Saviour's Chapel is the grave of local heroine Edith Cavell: 

Adjoining the Cathedral, is the largest monastic cloister in the country, which, in the days of the Benedictine Priory, linked the Church, Chapter House and original Library and Refectory, but which today holds a central labyrinth in the green - though this is currently closed and the space seems to have been adopted by an energetic young gymnast....  Why not?  Though I will restrain myself....

However..... It actually wasn't the Cathedral we had come to see. Some fifty years or so after the Battle of Hastings, William the Conqueror's son, King Henry I, decided to build an impressive royal palace in Norwich, which, at the time, was the second city in England. 

Following a multi-million pound grant from the National Lottery Fund, we are invited (according to the Norwich Castle Museum's website) to visit his royal apartments and the richly decorated rooms of the early 12th century.

Again, according to their website, Based on extensive research by leading experts and lovingly recreated by master craftspeople, [we] can now explore what life was like in a Norman royal palace.

Well....  maybe....  If I was still a year 6 pupil on a day's jolly, I might, perhaps, be impressed by the plates of rubber food and the garishly painted furniture, but, to be honest [Not dyspeptic?  Ed] I was unmoved.....

There are vestiges of the original building, such as this arch within the masonry:

But look at the amount of new work that has been inserted.  What is most characteristic of the original workmen, or of the inhabitants, are crude graffiti carvings, such as these (my favourite being the cocky bird at the top):

And, via steep steps (the lift is out of order) we can scan the city, admiring the hotchpotch of architectural styles that have accumulated over the centuries, from the lead-sealed roof, though a watchful guard and temporary signs tell us not to stand on the benches, so the views are actually quite limited:

Which [Elf and Safety gone mad?  Ed] is bit at odds with the hole in the wall on the floor below which opens onto a terrifyingly deep well shaft which, as far as I can see, has no safety net.  If I was a year 6 pupil on a day's jolly I would most certainly want to lean over and drop something (like my worst enemy, or my PE teacher) in.....

One of two well shafts in the keep - this one is glazed (I think)

The Castle has had a chequered history. Henry I never lived here, visiting only for Christmas in 1121. From the 14th century the keep was used as a county gaol, until a new gaol, designed by Sir John Soane, was constructed both inside and around the keep in 1792-93.  Soane had worked on national projects, such as the Bank of England, but also several local buildings, including the Hall at Shotesham Park which was commissioned in 1784 by one of the prison magistrates, Robert Fellowes, the son of philanthropist William Fellowes who notably founded the Norfolk and Norwich hospital, laying the foundation stone in 1771.....

However, despite this pedigree, the prison was quickly seen as outdated and difficult to patrol and so the outside block was demolished between 1822 and 1827.

With the city's industries declining and the gaol becoming inadequate for purpose, the Castle's fortunes hit rock bottom, until 23 October 1894 when Norwich Castle Museum was officially opened by the Duke and Duchess of York [Shome mistake?  Ed]. Three days later, the public were able to enter for the first time....

So we descend from the reconstituted keep to the museum, through a rather fetching light show, to the ground floor:

Having a particular interest in Snettisham (our home village) it is a little disappointing to find that the few pieces of the Snettisham Hoard are tucked away in a dark corner of what may be supposed to represent an Iron Age dwelling.

Known as the ‘Snettisham Treasure’, the objects found some seventy years ago on the Ken Hill Estate in the 'Gold Field' (on land close by my home)  represent one of the largest collections of prehistoric precious metal objects ever discovered, and one of the largest concentrations of Celtic art. The objects were found in at least 14 separate hoards buried between 150 BC and AD 100 – spanning the late Iron Age and early Roman periods, but with a peak of activity during the late Iron Age.

The most precious of these items are now in the British Museum, but it is something of a disappointment that Norwich Castle Museum doesn't make more of this extraordinary find.

By way of compensation, however, the art gallery holds a fine portrait of my neighbours, Henry and Mary Styleman, who live at Snettisham Hall, just yards from my front door.... 

Though I should explain that they moved on some years ago, I still think of them as if they ride past my window every morning.... [I think that is someone else, Ed].  The picture is not only fine, but it is unusual.....  It was the product of a collaboration between three of the best known artists of the day: Johann Zoffany painted the figures, Sawrey Gilpin the horses, groom and hounds, and the background was filled in by Joseph Faringdon.  The picture was commissioned in 1780 (when the couple were married) and was completed in 1783.  It remained in the family until 1950.....

So, with that in mind, we retrace our tracks back home, to try and catch the sunset over the Wash, when the Geese honk out of the darkening sky to their watery roosts. Tiny specks in family formations hurrying back from the sugar beet fields, thousands of pink-footed geese, Anser brachyrhynchus, clutter the sky as they flap overhead....

And then night falls, and the rising moon floodlights the spire of St Mary's, reminding us of Norwich in miniature..... 

Without the handstands.... 

And another day turns:

I mark the months in liveries dank and dry, 

The day-tides many-shaped and hued; 

I see the nightfall shades subtrude, 

And hear the monotonous hours clang negligently by.

Thomas Hardy

A Sign-Seeker

*****

I have photographed and written about Norwich on two previous occasions - once in 2015 and then again in 2021. Both pieces portray aspects of the Cathedral but perhaps also display a slightly dyspeptic view of the city, and include some fancifully adjusted pictures. This visit was different, under different circumstances, and, if you are so inclined, it may be interesting to compare the differing views.....

https://www.richardpgibbs.org/2015/10/norwich-city.html

https://www.richardpgibbs.org/2021/08/visut-to-naaarj.html

Visiting Norwich (Naaarj)

 At the still point of the turning world. 

I am in Sainsbury’s.  

Not the store, despite my fond memories of their long-vanished hall in Berkhamsted, where mum would queue from counter to counter, dairy here, meat there, and then file to pay at the desk at the end, where a busy woman added and cashed and said thank you, and everyone was so nice in a post-war kind of way....

No, I am in Lord Robert Sainsbury’s sitting room, or a reconstruction of such, darkened by Francis Bacon, lightened by Degas.  

Robert Sainsbury (1906 - 2000)
 by Francis Bacon

Here, in the Sainsbury Centre at the University of East Anglia, I wander under Norman Foster’s roof, bumping into Anish Kapoor, Modigliani and Picasso, wondering where the exit is, and thinking that if this is their drawing room, how could their kitchen be?  Frink in the Frigidaire (who uses that word now?) or Giacometti on the draining board (bit of a stretch there....)?

Head (1997)
John Davies

I am on my way to Norwich, where there is a queue about a quarter of a mile long to get into Norwich Cathedral.  

The line is slow moving, but patient, like the obligatory shuffle passing an extinct dictator.  Some of the file have a tonnage to rival an ocean-going tug, others sail turgidly as if dressed in barrage balloons – and I say this as an impartial observer; no judgement intended.  Children are either asleep in parental clutches, or squawking about being fed treats.  

 

It is a long time since I have seen such a queue for a Cathedral, but this is not to admire the intricate stonework and the bosses of the fan vaulting, 

nor the Hanging Chrismatory, 

nor even the Despenser Reredos, a late 14th century retable by a Norwich artist and thought to have been commissioned by Bishop le Despenser to celebrate his suppression of local support for the Peasants' Revolt in 1381 (but we'll dispense with the context for the moment....)

– no, this is a queue to enter through the cloisters to the nave where “Dippy” is on display.  Please see https://youtu.be/QourkgYSgtA for more on how this a cast of a Diplodocus, one of the largest creatures ever to roam the earth, that lived about 150 million years ago, was assembled, and https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=fKWBeCy5wgu to see how it looks now.

 

Ok, there are positives indeed, such as interesting young people in the natural world, and, possibly, in introducing them to a fine cathedral which they might otherwise have not entered.  But....

 

 

 

Art and artefacts, architecture and archaeology, all things bright and beautiful (did the Lord God really make them all?) The city, one of the five largest settlements in Norman England, and then in the seventeenth century the second richest city in the country (after London), has seen better days.  The splendour of its cathedral (its spire second only to Salisbury), 

the imposing nature of its castle, the scattering of some thirty flinty medieval churches 

amongst its complex of lanes and market places, the curling river Wensum 

and the brutalist sprawl of its university all commend it to the visitor, 

but there is a post-pandemic, perhaps post-Brexit, tiredness about it just now.  

Museums and churches are partly closed, 

the Royal Arcade sports "to let" signs in its windows, 

the Market Place lacks vitality and Tombland is choked with traffic, going nowhere.

 

On the river a couple embrace as their motor boat, blaring what some might call popular music, careers toward the bank.  By the Cow Tower, 

a fifty foot remain of the city’s two miles of defensive walls, families wander past, regardless.

 

There are fossils and remains and reminders of the past everywhere.  A pub called The Wild Man recalls the mysterious appearance in Norwich of Peter the Wild Boy in 1751.  Strangely this is a story connected with my own past as Peter resided for much of his life on Northchurch Common, near where I grew up, and he is buried in the graveyard of St Mary’s there, where my grandfather was organist and choirmaster for many years.

 

Even stranger, perhaps, is that in wandering up Pottergate I bump into another Wild Boy, a local resident who I recognise as also hailing from Hertfordshire.  

This antiquated ruin accosts me for the price of a pint, and together we piece together our histories over beer and sausages.  

[Good to see you, Joe!]

 

 

There are fossils in the cathedral, and ruins in the streets.  The once grand city has its attractions but somehow seems tired and lacklustre.  Is this the state of the United Kingdom as a whole today, or is this merely a blip in the wake of disease and politics?  Over the door of the 13th century chapel of St Catherine of Alexandria, in the south transept of the cathedral, someone has inscribed a line from T S Eliot’s Four Quartets: 

At the still point of the turning world.  

The quotation is from Burnt Norton, and it continues:

Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, 
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance....

 

It’s near midnight. Alcopop shrieks and tiddly giggles fill the street as three girls share something crazy. One dances provocatively, and laughs, the world so light and dark. 

It is Tuesday night in Norwich, and the rest is silence....

Earliest Human Relatives (1994)
from The Origins of Love portfolio (2004)
Hiroshi Sugimoto

....I can only say, there we have been....