Was Peterborough Museum Building Built in 1816?

 

The building that Peterborough Museum building sits in is one of the most impressive buildings in Peterborough. Tucked away on Priestgate it might not have the setting that other mansions like Thorpe Hall or Ufford Manor do, but when it was built it was one of the most desirable street to live on in Peterborough.

If you read any information about the history of the building you will know that it was built in 1816. This is never disputed because there is seemingly insurmountable proof in a datestone on the building. You will also know that the building was built by Thomas Alderson Cooke (for it his initials are on the datestone) and completed only months before the tragic death of his beloved wife Judith. I believe most of this is wrong and aim to explain why in this blogpost.

Let’s start with the datestone. Imagine for a moment that you are Thomas Alderson Cooke and have spent a ridiculous amount of money on building a huge mansion – a building that would be a legacy of your brilliance and wealth. Where would you put your datestone? How are people from generations in the future going to know that you were entirely responsible for this expansive mansion? You’d put it where people can see it on the front of the building. Think back to every single datestone you’ve seen on a domestic building, and you will realise that every single one is on the front (or in a very prominent position), where it can be seen and where visitors and passers-by can marvel at your brilliance. So where would you expect to see Thomas’ date stone? Probably not at ground level on the side of the building near the entrance to a cellar, but that’s exactly where it is. In that position the only people who would ever have seen it would be tradesmen calling at the servants’ door or his own staff. Hardly the trumpet call people might think it is.

A clue to the purpose of the datestone, I believe, is evident in the two extensions to the building in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Both extensions have large explanations about when they were erected and who erected them. You can see another example of this at Miss Pear’s Almshouses (see my other blogpost on that). She donated money in her will to pay for an extension to existing almshouses in her will of 1901, with the extension built in 1903. Most people (including the official Historic England listing) have apparently ignored the 1835 datestone above the original door and the (now horribly disfigured) plaque. Additionally, on the western side of the cathedral gatehouse at the top is the date 1952 but thankfully nobody has attempted to suggest it was built then!

The datestone sits close to the entrance to the cellars and I believe was created to commemorate Thomas Cooke’s renovation of them. We know he was a keen drinker and liked to entertain, so having a large wine cellar, meat store and coal cellar would have been essential. The cellar was once the ground level of an earlier house of possibly medieval origins (based on some architectural features recently identified) and the present vaulted ceilings cut in to those walls and windows. Evidence of a blocked-up entrance to the cellars from inside the house (in an area not open to the public) suggests that this was the original entrance before they were renovated (retrofitted?!), giving further strength to the argument that the new outside entrance was significant enough to warrant dating. The very specific dating of the work (20th July) also suggests it was a smaller job that was completed rather than the building of a house.

The date stone is located behind the tree at the very bottom of the wall and is impossible to see without standing over it.

Next, there was a belief that the building there before Thomas Alderson Cooke supposedly built his one in 1816 was the ancient and decaying Orme house. The Ormes definitely lived in a large house on Priestgate from the early 17th century (not the 16^th) and still owned the house and land at the start of the 19^th century, but the house was far from decaying.

I believe they had rebuilt their house in the 18th century and it had the distinctive T-shape floor plan that largely remains today. Speede’s Map of 1611 shows the older, Orme house on the site, but by 1721 the T-shape of the present building is present on a map (below). The image of the house captured on the Prospect of Peterborough from 1731 appears to agree with the same shape, although the features of the house (roofline and windows) do not match up with the current building. The present building does sit on the footprint of the earlier building, at least at the front, because the cellars roughly match up with the outer walls above. Its distinctive T-shape is without the curved south aspect in the 1721 map (and the Prospect shows no rear end to the building at all!), but it’s very likely that this was a later addition. The thickness of the walls, which can be seen at the  doors to the curved southern rooms, strongly suggests it was originally an external wall. You can also see that the image in the Prospect shows a house made of five bays, which is still what it is now. Following the fire that destroyed the upper floors of the house there is no evidence to show if the five gable-end windows at the top of the building were adapted for a more fashionable style, or if they were from an earlier building. The architectural style of the house does appear to be Palladian and avoids the use of some of the typical Regency features such as stucco that you might expect from a house built in 1816.

                                                   

                                                                The house in 1721

If my suspicions are correct about the building, then it could push back the date of the present museum building by around 100 years and make it even more significant than it already is. What I am still looking for is other evidence to back up my theories; a reference to a newly built house in an Orme will, for example, or an itemisation of building works carried out for Thomas Cooke.

My third point relates to recently discovered documents. I was delighted to meet some of Thomas Alderson Cooke’s descendants a few years ago. They had inherited a raft of items from their family and wanted to share them to gain more understanding of their family history, which luckily, I’d been researching for some time. What I saw provided the best evidence that the Cookes had lived in the present building long before 1816. One document proved a vital link between the Cookes and the Ormes and showed that the Cookes occupied the house in 1811. Why would a very wealthy man live in the decaying ruins of the Orme house? Put simply: he wouldn’t. Cooke was trying to make a name for himself in the city and put himself on an equal footing to the likes of the Squires family, so it was important for him to live in the best house in the city, even if he had to rent it.

Walden Orme had been the Orme heir but he sadly died intestate after falling out of a small boat that he was sailing on a pond in Edith Weston in 1809. There were, of course, some legal wranglings around the Orme estate after his death which continued for several years, resulting, I believe, in the eventual selling of the Priestgate house by the Orme family. Thomas bought it and started to put his own stamp on the property, including renovating the cellars.

Another delight I was able to view was a sketch of the back of the house and part of the garden. It had been drawn in pencil and was signed J Cooke. The signature meant it could only have been drawn by Judith or eldest daughter Julia. Judith died in 1817 and Julia married William Walcot Squire (see other blogpost) in 1818, so if the house was built in 1816, as stated, there’s no more than a two year period in which the picture could have been drawn. What is interesting to note then, is that the curved southern end of the building had a scattering of tall trees close to it, items so close that they would certainly have been felled in order to build a new house.

            A modern view of the curved southern end of the museum building

What is missing here are documents showing exactly when the house was built, or when the cellars were remodelled. There is a document hiding in the museum archives detailing work that was carried out by Johnsons builders for Thomas in 1816. I believe they will show that he carried out work on the cellars, but the documents are hidden in a sea of other documents and are currently unavailable to view.

There is a lot more information I could add about changes to the building over time, a likely re-fronting of the house, the use of different stones to build the house (there’s some beautiful rubble walling at the eastern back of the house that is completely different to the ashlar at the front and may be from an earlier building) and changes to the front of the house using the same stone that was used to build the house next door in 1844 (a story for another day).

I am aware that these points raise as many questions as they solve, but history and historical interpretation changes as new evidence is found. I hope one day to have enough information to tie down exactly when the house was first built and what was altered when. For now, I am suggesting that the 1816 date relates entirely to the remodelling of the cellars and that the house is around 100 years older than has been stated. As and when new information comes to light, I will be happy to add to it, and I'm still open to the idea that I might yet be wrong! My concluding note is to always question date stones; ask what they’re commemorating and why they were placed where they were. Sometimes they’re just for the benefit of the butler!

Image of Peterborough Museum by David P Howard via Geograph and the southern and eastern views by Geographer via Geograph. Image of gatehouse datestone authors own.

Mary Elizabeth Drake: Yodelling Peterborian Star

You’ve probably heard of all of the great musicians from Peterborough, right? Who’s not heard of Andy Bell, Gizz Butt and Aston Merrygold? But what about the women? There may not be any pop stars yet, but there was once a very famous international singer and musician who was from Peterborough, and her story is both incredible and inspirational.

Mary Elizabeth Drake was born in 1846 and baptised in the beautiful St Kyneburgha’s Church in Castor. She was the daughter of George and Susannah Drake (née Eagle) and was one of at least nine children born to her parents. She grew up in Peterborough, living in Westwood Road (it ran parallel to Gladstone Street), Albert Square and Johnson’s Yard, so the city was most definitely her home.

Elizabeth, as she was known, did not grow up in a rich family, but her father had some respect as a policeman. He was working as a railway policeman as early as 1848 when Elizabeth was only two (and the local railway was only three!). By the 1851 census the family were living together on Westwood Road and by 1855 at the Christening of Elizabeth’s little sister Julia Lavinia, they were living at Albert Place. But something went wrong for George and he appears to have lost his job. 

On Monday 28^th December 1857 Elizabeth was admitted to the workhouse along with her siblings Mary, Thomas, and Arthur on the grounds of destitution. This is a little confusing because Elizabeth was christened as Mary Elizabeth, but usually known as Elizabeth, and it’s not clear on first glance who the extra sibling is. It's very likely it is Henrietta Louisa who was nine and they've accidentally given one of Elizabeth's names to her. To be clear, neither of her parents enter the workhouse at this point and there is no sign of older sister Georgina Selina or little sister Julia Lavinia. It’s likely that Julia (2 years old) was with her mother and Selina (as she was known) was working. It is quite unusual for children to be accepted without their parents but there is never any sign of Susannah Drake entering the workhouse.

The workhouse guardians were not impressed with George’s abandonment of his wife and children and leaving them chargeable to the parish. He was taken in front of the magistrates at the Petty Sessions on 16^th January and sentenced to a month in prison for neglecting to pay for their upkeep. A look at the workhouse records reveals that George did remove the children from the workhouse a few months later once he had found work. On Saturday 3^rd April George removed the four children – Mary, Henrietta, Thomas, and Arthur – to spend Easter with them. But he was not able to provide for them for long and all of them entered the workhouse on Wednesday 14^th April, including a Vincent Drake. There’s absolutely no sign of a Vincent in the records, so it’s possible that this is Julia Lavinia. The whole family left again on 30^th April, presumably because George found some work and was able to provide for them at last.

It's very likely that some or all of the family continued the cycle of temporary workhouse admission for the next few years because the 1861 census reveals that the youngest four children – Henrietta, Thomas, Arthur, and Julia – were in the workhouse again. Elizabeth was 15, however, and was living with Susannah in Johnson’s Yard, both of them working as dressmakers.

It is extremely curious that both parents were alive and the children are placed into the workhouse without them. There may be records showing that Susannah was provided with out-relief from the guardians to support her and Julia initially, but she was not capable of supporting the older children. Was George absent whilst looking for work? Or had their relationship broken down and he'd scarpered? The question might seem a strange one, but George and Susannah were never captured together as a couple again. As we know, by the 1861 census Susannah was living with Elizabeth, but there were no other family members with them. Living next door was Robert Jones and his son; she later moved to London with him and either married him or pretended to be married to him. By the 1871 census she was using the surname Jones and was living as a widow with Julia and several lodgers at 15 Berwick Street. George appears to have been lodging with a family in Cumbergate in the 1861 census, but had kept himself to himself; his birthplace was recorded as N K - not known. He died a few years later.

I know what you’re thinking – there’s not even a whiff of brilliance here. This is just an average poor girl from Peterborough (and you’re probably going to tell us she was a prostitute). Fear not, there’s no sign she worked as a prostitute (although there’s a reasonable chance), but the old adage that you have to leave the city to become anything, certainly applies to Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth appears in the 1871 census in very different circumstances. This time she was captured in Kidderminster with her niece Lizzie Dent, daughter of her sister Selina. Both of them were working as singers, which is incredible given that Little Lizzie Dent (her stage name) was only seven years old! Elizabeth was using the name Lizzie Herbert as her official stage name, which was also what appeared in the census (and made her incredibly difficult to find!). Why she was using the surname Herbert has not been discovered yet, but there's the potential that she had been taken under the wing of the Herbert family who were all Music Hall performers, so she used their name too.

Lizzie Herbert first appeared in the newspapers in 1866 in Scotland. She was 20 at the time and was appearing at the Alhambra Music Hall in Arbroath, Dundee, as a serio-comic singer, which means she would have sung both serious and comedic songs. Music Halls were hugely popular across the UK and were best known for the variety of performers (the essence of these still exist in the Royal Variety Performance and shows like Britain’s Got Talent). Elizabeth’s ability to sing a range of songs meant that she could have slotted into any variety of acts and found something to entertain the audience no matter what the mood of the night. This would not have been her first evening on stage, but how she got from dressmaker in Peterborough to serio-comic singer in Scotland five years later is a bit of a mystery. There wasn’t even a theatre in Peterborough at the time, although The Era showed that performances were taking place at the New Drill Hall.

One of Lizzie Herbert's first performances

One interesting sidenote here is that Susan Tingey, who had grown up in Peterborough workhouse and met Elizabeth there in 1858, headed down to London at a similar time and had married the music hall star The Great Vance by the end of the 60s. Susan also performed on stage and it does make me wonder if they headed down to London together in search of a brighter future. Perhaps they both headed down to London with Elizabeth’s mum Susannah, and used her house as a base for performing, just as Julia was doing in the 1871 census.

Once Elizabeth started on the Music Hall circuit, she found herself travelling all over the UK to perform with other variety acts, usually to great success. However, this wasn’t the case in Llandudno where she had joined Wallace’s Band. The band had abruptly left the town over an issue regarding money, taking Elizabeth with them, to which the North Wales Chronicle stated ‘we cannot much regret her departure’ after her style of singing and dancing had failed to impress the residents of Llandudno. We know from another report in Birmingham a few months before that they had described her as being ‘funny without being vulgar’ so at least we know she wasn’t offending Welsh ears with vulgarity!

Over the next few years she appeared more and more and at venues she had never been to before, such was her popularity. Thanks to the Birmingham Daily Gazette we know that two songs she sang were ‘Rolling Home in the Morning’ (a drinking song) and ‘Belle of the Ball’. By 1870 she was increasingly celebrated and when appearing in Oxford her ‘fascinating appearance on stage [had] been nightly greeted by long and loud applause.’ She wasn’t just a performer, she was a popular performer.

Early the following year Elizabeth started to appear with Little Lizzie Dent where the younger was described as ‘one of the most favourable specimens of juvenile talent ever heard.’ By March they were performing at the Oxford Amphitheatre in Kidderminster (where they were identified in the census). Little Lizzie was known as a comedienne and as a serio-comic singer like her aunt. It appears at this stage that Elizabeth has taken Little Lizzie under her wing, educated her in the ways of the Music Hall performance and they’ve set off to tour the UK and Ireland, something they continue to do for many years. Their relationship does appear to be incredibly close, perhaps not mother and daughter, but that of close relatives or intimate friends. 

A performance in Dublin in 1872

In June 1883 the UK papers were abuzz at the arrival of the Seebold family. They were an exceptionally gifted family of musicians from Zurich, Switzerland. Led by the father Jacob, the seven sons performed around the UK and were an instant success, despite none of them speaking a word of English. They had already performed in front of European royalty and almost immediately appeared in front of the Prince of Wales. As well as being great singers they played over 40 instruments including zithers, xylophones, and a boot jack that eldest son Joseph had invented himself. Their performances were a mixture of serious, sentimental, and comedic musical pieces, similar in style to Elizabeth and Lizzie.

In January 1884 Elizabeth appeared on the same bill as the Seebolds at the Star Music Hall in Bradford. A spark was obviously lit and she made a guest appearance with them in September in Sunderland. She also appeared with them in January 1885 in Tunbridge Wells, being billed as 'Madame Herberto, a soprano vocalist'. In the spring of 1885 Elizabeth married Joseph (who was much younger than her), the second eldest Seebold son and Lizzie Dent married Jackob, also known as Jackey or Jack. They married at St George’s, Hanover Square, which was the church to marry at and very important to their family. It was close to 15 Berwick Street where Elizabeth’s mum and sister Julia (another singer!) had been living in the 1871 census and the address Lizzie was living at at the time of the wedding. It was also the address that the Dents said they were living when they (belatedly) baptised Lizzie in 1872 and the location where their sister Henrietta's death was registered in 1868 after two years of marriage and at only 20 years old.

Elizabeth and Lizzie joined the Seebolds under their professional names and the audiences loved them. There had been complaints when the Seebold family first arrived that they needed some female singers to improve the sound of their songs and what could be better than two celebrated Music Hall singers?! Gretchen and Lena, the younger Seebold sisters joined the family group too, and together, as one big family, they toured the country, Europe, and the world! Initially the two women still used their stage names, but over time Lizzie Herbert became Mrs Joseph Seebold and was one of The Two Musical Seebolds. Lizzie Dent travelled extensively with her husband Jack, appearing as a double act, but also appearing beside The Two Musical Seebolds.

Elizabeth's incredible talents and Joseph's Musical Book-Jack

In 1887 the Seebold family performed at the Pleasure Gardens in Preston. Mrs Joseph Seebold was described as a ‘Tyrolean Vocalist and Instrumentalist’ who ‘created a perfect furore at Scarborough Concerts’ which is quite the compliment! We know that she was a singer with a broad range of skills, but it appears that she has learnt to yodel and play instruments too. If you’ve ever marvelled at the longevity of a performer, it’s usually because they were capable of reinventing themselves and learning something new – Elizabeth was certainly very good at that. Lizzie was not named on the same listing but it’s possible that she was absorbed into the ‘Sisters Seebold’ and had become proficient on the ‘Xilophone’ (sic).Elizabeth was also referred to as ‘Madame Seebold’ and was noted for singing Il Baccio (The Kiss) quite beautifully. It is an operatic piece, which again, would have pushed her singing skills to their limit and showed what range she had.

A highlight for the family, who performed as the Jungfrau Kappella and the Swiss Orchestra and Mountain Singers, and later as the Chamounix Orchestra, was appearing before Queen Victoria at Balmoral in 1889, not long after they had returned from a tour of ‘the colonies’ that included Australia.

By the 1890s Joseph and Elizabeth were still continuing to travel, but they had put down roots. The 1891 census showed them living in a fantastic location in London within a short walking distance of the Royal Academy of Music and Madame Tussauds (where the family performed in 1894). Joseph had been known as a professor for many years and it is likely that he was teaching at the Royal Academy, extoling the wonders of the many instruments that he played. By 1895 the couple had moved to leafy Willesden where he continued to work as a professor of music. They remained there until at least 1905 in between touring with the other Seebolds and Joseph’s Elite Ladies’ Orchestra (which I would love to think Elizabeth was part of). Sadly, they had no children of their own, but Joseph had a son, Richard, from a previous relationship and Elizabeth had a very close relationship with Lizzie and was caring for her niece Elizabeth Drake in the 1901 census.

 

The family performing in Hull where Elizabeth's sister Selina (and Lizzie's mum) lived

Lizzie and Jack had a little girl named Alice in 1887 who was born in Eastbourne and who lived with Lizzie’s mum Selina whilst they toured. They continued to appear as a couple through the 1890s, with Miss Lizzie Dent also performing on her own. In 1897 Lizzie was still performing alongside the Three Seebolds, but it was revealed for the first time that they were Lizzie, Jack and his sister Gretchen. Lizzie sadly passed away on 13^th December 1897. She was at Scarborough and died from heart disease. She was only 35. 

By the 1911 census Elizabeth was living with her brother Thomas Drake and his extended family in Essex. Joseph has not been discovered yet, but it’s possible that he was touring or had popped back over to Switzerland. Elizabeth died in 1915 at the age of 71, which is double the life that Lizzie lived.

Joseph died in 1921 at his home in Zurich after having returned there a few years earlier, possibly after the death of Elizabeth. He was only 65 at the time. His passing was recorded in the papers thanks to his brother informing them of his demise, not wanting his death to go unmarked.

Mary Elizabeth Drake was an incredibly talented woman. Her skills as a singer, instrumentalist and dancer were seen by thousands of Victorians in hundreds of performances over a career that lasted several decades. Her marriage to Joseph Seebold gave her the opportunity to travel the world and to meet heads of state, and also to live in comfort in the leafy suburbs of London. At the point her father left, and her family found themselves at the mercy of the parish, she might have thought that her dreams were over, and poverty was her only option. But her skills and hard work gave her another life, one that she shared with her beloved niece and the wider Seebold family. It’s a story of hope, of talent, and (trying not to be too soppy) one of love. Sadly, her story has been entirely unknown in Peterborough, but this is hopefully the start of the city reclaiming this exceptional performer as its own.

Update: after a bit of a wait the marriage certificate finally arrived for Elizabeth and Joseph and there are so many fascinating details to reveal. Firstly, Elizabeth claimed she was 35 instead of 39 (bit naughty but she probably wanted him to think she could have children). Secondly, neither had been married before, despite Joseph having a son from Germany. They married at a registry office, which is very likely because of their differing religious backgrounds and because they didn't need to appear for banns over several weeks. Joseph had been staying at 'The Feathers' on Broadway, Westminster (the pub is still there) and Elizabeth at 15 Berwick Street. (attempts to find her mother there in the 1881 census are ongoing). Their witnesses were Jack Seebold and Mary Elizabeth Dent, who I also believe married that day (and can presume that the newly married Seebolds were their witnesses). Both Joseph and Elizabeth claimed to be 'artists', which could be a very misleading term and certainly wasn't one they used elsewhere, but it did acknowledge they were both working in the same industry and put her on a level status with her new husband. I'm sure it was a wonderful day and only have questions about their dress, the bouquet, the music, the party afterwards...

Another Update: after receiving the answers to some research questions from Northamptonshire Archives, I've been able to add in information about Lizzie's time in Peterborough Workhouse, proving that she knew Susan Tingey. Finding two women from Peterborough Workhouse who married famous entertainers is less surprising when you know they were friends. But it does make you wonder what fun they had when they were together!

The Cottage, Walton

Apologies for the length of time between my previous post and this one. I was working hard to finish my manuscript for Pen and Sword and didn't have the energy or brain power to cope with that and a new blogpost. There will be a book hitting the shelves in 2024!

Along with the book I have also had a little dilemma about what to write. I desperately want to share my information about the true age of Peterborough Museum building, but don't want to annoy the people connected to it. I deliberately withheld it whilst there was a blue plaque exhibition at the museum, but feel like the post could still be received as being provocative or troublesome, so it will sit a while longer. If I can find clear evidence of the building there before 1816 (beyond what I already have) then I will immediately post something!

Anyone used to discussing Peterborough's history will be familiar with the sentence 'well there used to be a [insert name of interesting/beautiful/historically unique building] but that was demolished in the [usually 60s or 70s]'. This is then followed by annoyance and anguish at the loss of something that would be valued now. However this destruction is still happening and the remaining history and fragments of beauty are being chipped from the map of the city. Even if a building has listed status it is only the very outside that is usually scheduled to remain intact. The very soul of the building can be pulled out and sterilised to make it a suitable modern home or workplace when so many internal features are as valuable as the exterior (see images for Priestgate House and Walton House). 

What has stuck in my mind recently is the proposed destruction of yet another historic building in Peterborough, this time a house in Walton that was known as 'The Cottage'. The house is situated on the corner of Lincoln Road and Mounsteven Avenue and is around 200 years old, but not listed. It has been identified as a building of historic importance to the city, however, and, along with its beautiful garden, has been a beloved building for people who could peer over the wall to glimpse back in time for a moment. Walton is an area that used to have a big manor house and some beautiful stone farm houses, old inns, and even a little Victorian train station, but all that's left is one listed building 'Walton House' and 'The Cottage'. 

It is a beautiful but neglected property and I'm under no illusion that it needs a lot of work done to it, but it is completely unique both to Peterborough and the country. The Rightmove listing of the property is still available (see below) and you can view all of the quirky little details that make the building an absolute gem. From the strange curved stone and slate extension on the downstairs bedroom (which in my mind is a perfect office), to the bay window and shutters in the sitting room crying out for a window seat, to the mismatched architecture and misaligned extensions. There's also a large wooden hallway with a the most beautiful sinewy curved handrail discoloured over decades of use (or from a few sliding bottoms!). Beauty might be in the eye of the beholder, but I am confident that with the right support and some TLC it would make a really interesting family home. 

Images and floor plans of the building on the Rightmove site let us understand a little of the history of the building. Originally, it looks like it would have been quite a modest three-bedroomed stone house, possibly the one that was up for let in 1838. It was described as having 'one parlour, one kitchen, three or four bed-rooms, with every convenience for a small family.' (1) The initial building has had plenty of extensions and improvements, some built in local yellow Flettons and others a dusky pink. The range and style of windows on the building are a mix of sash and casement, some with bars and some without, which reminds me of the south side of St Firmin's church in Thurlby (see earlier post). They are completely mismatched, yet there is a charm to them, and it wouldn't be impossible to install new windows that talk to each other and the building.

There's also a sizeable greenhouse (I suspect that's already been levelled along with the garden and orchard) and there are stairs on the plans suggesting a cellar. There's also a boot room (trust me, that's a wasted space in Walton), a snug, a store room, and a cloakroom for actual cloaks! The kitchen is definitely a bit small and a strange shape, so a bit of internal remodelling with some of the other redundant rooms would make it a better home. But this is my point - it's still got the bones to be a good home. 

If the developers are stopped from demolishing the house then there is still a large garden that could partitioned. Two semi-detached houses could be built on the annexed land to continue the line of the existing properties on Lincoln Road. They could even be set back from the others with two off street parking spaces provided. This means the cottage could be saved and the developers would still earn money from the building of a couple of houses, which would also suit the existing housing stock and be appropriate for the location. 

We should be actively protecting what little remains of Peterborough's history and heritage, and that includes the quirky buildings and the awkward ones. The angry responses to the demolition of the building show that people do care and they do value the building and gardens. And in response to the argument that we need more houses, an application has gone in to build some apartments on a nearby green, so the need is being met elsewhere. For once, it's time to let a bit of history remain in a city that's haemorrhaging its past.

Update: since sharing this blogpost the council have rejected the developer's application to demolish the building. However, this is because they had only asked for prior approval and they would need to submit full planning permission to be allowed to destroy the building. This story is definitely not over!

(1) Stamford Mercury, 9 March 1838, p.3.

Map reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland

https://search.savills.com/property-detail/gb0400l144366

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/128195936#/?channel=RES_BUY

https://www.peterboroughtoday.co.uk/news/politics/council/lets-have-some-old-peterborough-left-plans-to-demolish-19th-century-building-criticised-by-residents-4139563

Miss Pears’ Almshouses: A Truth Hidden in Plain Sight

If you live or were born in Peterborough you’ve probably heard of Miss Pears’ Almshouses and you’ve almost certainly walked past them. Situated in a prime location on the corner of Exchange Street and Cumbergate (and right next to McDonald’s), the buildings overlook St John’s Church and Exchange Street at the front and a row of listed buildings on Cumbergate to the side. If you’ve visited the site, it was almost certainly to eat in one of the many restaurants that have made the building their home over the last few decades.

Sitting on the side of the building is a large plaque with the date of A.D. 1903. It reads:

 

Erected by the Feoffees

Out of the fund bequeathed by

MISS FRANCES PEARS

Of this city, for the use of the

Aged and infirm of the parish of

PETERBOROUGH

 

Miss Pears had died on 1^st December 1901 aged 60 and left a bequest of £5,000 to rebuild, repair or extend the Cumbergate almshouses. She was following in the path of her father who upon his death in 1886, had also bequeathed money to the almshouses to provide each of the inmates with ‘half a ton of coal annually’[1]. Her father had lived in The Crescent (a very smart semicircle of houses on Thorpe Road situated close to the railway crossing) and she lived in Bennithorpe, also on Thorpe Road. They were rather wealthy, with Frances’ estate worth over £28,000 when she died. 

Frances and her father had seen the poor condition of the old almshouses and being wealthy but with no heirs, had left their money to comfort the elderly poor of the city. Her father’s contribution was significant because there were lots of people living in the almshouses. In 1896 there were 44 people living in the Cumbergate almshouses alone. We know this thanks to the report of a Christmas gift of ‘tea, sugar, and a plum cake’[2] to each person who lived there. She also left £1,000 to Peterborough Infirmary, which may have contributed to one of the extensions there.

 

The Feoffees were a centuries old group of trustees who organised the city's charity needs. They had been created in 1572 and consisted of 14 men 'chosen from the most "honest, substantial and discreet" citizens, to administer lands and property in common ownership.'[i]  It was a great privilege to be one of the Feoffees, which is why so many of the most influential men in Peterborough's past became one. By the Victorian era they owned and managed a sizable portfolio of properties, including The Bull and Dolphin.

Looking at the front of the building from Exchange Street it is easy to see that the almshouses were actually two separate buildings. However, the prominence of the plaque high on the western side of the building could easily fool a casual bystander to believe that the entire L-shaped complex was built in 1903. What they would have missed is the date over the main entrance door of the western building of 1835 and a large (but now embarrassingly degraded) plaque at the rear of the building.

                                          

The building on Exchange Street to the east and stretching north (abutting McDonald’s) were built first in 1835 by the town Feoffees. The western building (with some matching architectural features but clearly a different building and on a different alignment) was finished in 1903 thanks to money left by Miss Pears but also built by the Feoffees.

Early pictures and maps of the site reveal that there were more buildings on the wedge-shaped site that have been removed. There was an earlier row of squat little almshouses along Cumbergate that had lath and plaster walls, lead-lined windows, and tall chimneys (to take them up to the same height as the chimneys of neighbouring buildings). These predated the 1835 row and ran almost parallel to them, which left a little courtyard in the middle (and to the west) for washing and other outdoor chores. But these were in increasingly poor condition, and by 1873 Walter Skirrow recommended that no new inmates should be placed in the older almshouses. Once the last inhabitant had died, he said, they should be pulled down to improve the situation for the eastern (1835) row. There is a wonderfully evocative painting of the almshouse courtyard by Wilfrid Wood here that shows the two contrasting rows, but it’s worth noting that it was painted in 1944, supposedly over 40 years after the western row was demolished. 

On the corner where Miss Pears’ extension was built there had been a variety of buildings over time including (potentially) the Moot Hall and a fire station, and there were also some lavatories (just what you want next to almshouses!) In fact, the extension was built on a building that was previously a mortuary (a mortuary sited next to almshouses for the elderly seems a little cruel).

When the Feoffees received the money from Miss Pears’ will there was a lot of discussion about what to do with it and it quickly became a politically weighted issue. Some suggested repairing the existing almshouses in Cumbergate and Westgate, others suggested building new ones on Bishop’s Road to remove the ugly face of charity from a prime location in the city. Even once they had agreed to leave the almshouses in Cumbergate and build more, there were further issues. The corner of Cumbergate and Exchange Street was a high traffic route and at an acute angle, so it was vital that any new buildings were set at a bit of an angle to allow good visibility round the corner to ease possible congestion and to attempt to widen Exchange Street. However, Mr Clarabut (one of the executors of Miss Pears’ will) and the Feoffees were quite keen to make the new building square, so a small dispute grew. It was this argument that led to the new building sitting at a strange angle to all of the other building along Exchange Street and the north side of Cathedral Square and looking like an awkward relative of the 1835 building.

Plans for the four additional almshouses were taken to the Town Council at the end of September 1902 along with plans to ‘re-build the Cumbergate almshouses’.[3] What it doesn’t make clear is which almshouses they plan to rebuild. There was excitement about the building of the new almshouses along with a large extension of the Post Office further round the street, with the Peterborough Advertiser claiming ‘the pretty little almshouses will make Cumbergate a decidedly important thoroughfare.’[4]

Thankfully, an article in 1903 explained exactly how Miss Pears’ money had been used, and an artist’s impression showed just how pretty the new almshouses were intended to be.

In November 1903 the Peterborough Standard revealed the full details of the new almshouses.[5] They explained that Miss Pears’ money was being used to build THREE almshouses; one was an extension of Wortley’s almshouses in Westgate (at the back of the site so not visible to the public), the building on the corner of Cumbergate and Exchange Street; and a similar structure at the opposite end of the 1835 almshouses to create three sides to a courtyard. At the time of the article the Westgate almshouses (ten single room dwellings) were almost complete and the Exchange Street building was under construction. The other building had not been started because the old row of almshouses were still standing despite being ‘exceedingly impractical’ and ‘in no little danger of one day falling down on the heads of the occupants.’  This is an image of the old almshouses as the south extension was being built. 

The almshouses built in 1835 were deemed to be ‘in a satisfactory condition’ and would therefore be part of the new ‘quadrangle’ that would sit around a garden and behind a short wall and iron palisades. The article goes on to describe the content and dimensions of each of the little almsrooms and how very comfortable and practical they would be. The stones used for the front of the extension was from Ketton and the slate from Bangor. It also stated that the northern almshouse extension on Cumbergate was to look the same as the Exchange Street building but contain ten rooms.

The third and final building was begun in 1904 after the old almshouses had been removed. Mr Clarabut, one of the executors of Miss Pears’ will and a stalwart supporter of the almshouses was asked to lay the memorial stone in a ceremony in April when the building was half complete.[6] That memorial stone read:

This stone was laid April 18 1904

By Mr W. Clarabut

One of the Executors of the late

Miss Frances Pears

Feoffees:

H Little, J.h. Beeby

L.T. Jones, G Wyman

J.W. Buckle, T.J. Walker

(The layout is not true to the plaque, but a possible option) 

I’ll be honest here. I’d presumed the northern extension had never been built. I’d never heard of it. I’d never seen it in any of the old pictures of Cumbergate and I’m not old enough to have known the city before Queensgate was built. But there are some obscure pictures of the building. In this photograph on the Peterborough Images site you can see the two extensions, the little wall and trees in the garden. Sadly, the northern extension was gobbled up by Queensgate, but we can be grateful that the 1835 and 1903 buildings remain.

To recap, Miss Pears left money in her will to the Feoffees for the improvement of the city’s almshouses, be that rebuilding, extending or improving. Her £5,000 bequest was used to build ten additional rooms at the Westgate Almshouse (lost to Queensgate) and a total of 14 rooms at the Cumbergate almshouses.

The Cumbergate Almshouses were built in three phases in 1835, 1903, and 1904. The latest extension was demolished with the building of Queensgate, but the earlier two phases are still standing. The extension was built on the site of a former mortuary and lavatories and was set back to widen Exchange Street and make the junction safer.

 

One question I’ve thought about is whether we should even call the almshouses ‘Miss Pears’ Almshouses’. My answer to that has always been no. The present buildings were built and managed by the Feoffees – the four room extension abuts and detracts from the earlier 1835 build by them. However, since learning that there was another extension and Miss Pears’ bequest provided a total of 24 almsrooms in the city, it seems entirely appropriate that her name is associated with the buildings. 

The only issue now is that the listing for the site is completely wrong and could have allowed for the damage or destruction of features that should have been preserved. 

The listing dates from 1973 and appears to have been written because somebody read the plaque on Cumbergate and walked on to the next building (I said it was a problem). Annoyingly the address isn't even correct - it says Cowgate in the details! It also states there are 'matching end blocks' despite the northern block being destroyed over 40 years ago. What is also quite infuriating is that there is a grade II listing for the little wall that bordered the garden, on the British Listed Buildings website, but the wall has since been destroyed! (It's no longer on the official listing website)

Thankfully, the Civic Society information on the buildings in Cumbergate here, written by Richard Hillier, is spot on. But why should the truth about the almshouses be sitting in information about blue plaques and not on the official listing?

It seems imperative that the correct date and information is provided and the buildings are given the respect they need. After all, the original almshouses on the site are almost 190 years old, which make them (sadly) some of the oldest buildings left in the city.

What this also reminds us is that datestones can be very misleading in the context of a building, which is something I’ll be building on in my next blogpost...

p.s. Apologies for the dodgy footnote. (Who knew it would be so difficult to retrofit a footnote?!)

Addendum: since writing this blogpost I applied to have the listing of Miss Pear's Almshouses changed and was successful! It's amazing what one person can do when you put your mind to it!

All images belong to the author. 

---

[1] Stamford Mercury, 3 December 1886, p.4.

[2] Stamford Mercury, 25 December 1896, p.4.

[i] https://www.historyofparliamentonline.org/volume/1558-1603/constituencies/peterborough

[3] Peterborough Advertiser, 1 October 1902, p.6.

[4] Along with the new Post Office and Peterborough Advertiser building! Peterborough Advertiser, 26 November 1902, p.5.

[5] Peterborough Standard, 21 November 1903, p.6.

[6] Peterborough Express, 20 April 1904, p.3.

A View of the Squires

Image by Julian Dowse

Arriving at Peterborough bridge from the south in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century you would have been dazzled by the wealth of the Squires. They not only owned the countryside that you had just travelled through south of the Nene, but they owned the two buildings you were about to pass between like two enormous gatehouses into the city. As if that wasn’t enough, they also controlled the river that you were standing above and many of the buildings in the city too. You were in Squire country.

The building to the right of the bridge is, thankfully, still standing and is still as delightful as ever. It’s currently known as the Customs House or Old Customs House and is used by the local Sea Cadet unit. References in documents and books show it has had different names over the years including the Wharf and later Old Wharf. The construction date of the building is hugely debated, with 1790 being the most common belief, but early eighteenth century stated on the official listing (grade II). I have it on good authority that the original plans of the building exist with the correct date somewhere between the two and will report back when I have seen it!

The building to the left of the bridge, known as Bridge House, was sadly destroyed to make way for the Rivergate complex. For older Peterborough citizens, they would have walked or driven past Bridge House, or even been in it as a shop, and not realised that they were passing by a significant Georgian mansion as featured in the painting of the Squire children in Peterborough Museum (always worth a visit to see it in person).

https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/wright-thomas-squire-d-1811-and-his-sister-charlotte-on-a-black-pony-50134

In its glory it would have looked incredible overlooking the Nene and the town bridge. South-facing, the honey-coloured ashlar sandstone façade would have appeared to glow in the summer sun and provided an excellent vista for a visitor arriving to the city, whether by land or water.

The family who lived there were hugely influential and, as you might imagine, had lots of business connections across the city and beyond. Wright Squire appears to have been the first of the Squire family to move to the city, although his father or another relative might have preceded him. He had been married to a woman called Ann, but tragically he lost Ann in 1751 and also his daughters Ann and Elizabeth. Wright married again and wed Mary Campin at St John's by licence in 1761. They had three sons; Wright Thomas Squire, (also known as both Wright and Thomas) who worked alongside his brother William as merchants, and their youngest brother John. I haven't been able to find a huge amount of information about John. In Wright's will of 1790 he left his property, lands and goods to Wright Thomas and William, but money to John and Mary. Another son Matthew died in 1779.

Wright Thomas and William continued the family mercantile business and were exceedingly fortunately placed when the decision was made to build the Norman Cross Prisoner of War Camp. It was the Squire family who met all of the camp's needs and Wright Thomas who mustered the officers who were staying in the city. And it was on their land – Squire Close – that the new arrivals for the camp disembarked and walked to their new prison. There are some great books on the camp, so I won't elaborate any further here.

Wright Thomas married Lucy Bigland in the city in 1778. The Biglands were a big deal in the city. Lucy's father loved to race his horses at the Peterborough Races and would compete against a William Squire and other landed gentry. Sadly Lucy’s father had died when she was only five years old. Lucy had only sisters, but their name and reputation would have had weight, as well as her 3,000 guinea dowry! If you’re doubting the importance of the Biglands because you’ve never heard of them, it might be worth knowing that they were descended from the Orme and Kennet families and you’ve possibly walked over them, because they have a ledger stones in the new building in the cathedral.

Wright and Lucy had five children; Lucy was born in 1780 followed by Mary Anna, Wright Thomas, William Walcot and Charlotte Sarah in 1791. Wright Thomas and Charlotte are the two children who feature in the portrait atop a horse in the museum. If you’ve heard of any of the Squires it is probably Charlotte, who was briefly married to Thomas Alderson Cooke, but she was the least significant of the Squire offspring. Wright Thomas – the heir to the Squire empire – sadly died in 1810, leaving wife Mary and two small children Fanny Eliza and William Thomas.

Wright Thomas senior had died in 1802, so William Walcot suddenly found himself as head of his family. He had thankfully been working with his father and uncle and appears to have been already involved in the running of their joint ventures. Wright Thomas junior had died without a will which ended up causing an argument in the family as William and William Walcot were taken to court by Lucy (sister-in-law and mother) on behalf of her grandchildren. They squabbled over land and money, Lucy being determined to ensure that her infant grandchildren weren’t left without, after a lengthy and expensive court case.

The Squires were involved in a variety of businesses and lots of different parts of city life. Not only did they run Squire and Co, which was split into ‘Wine and Ale’ (including a significant brewery and lots of pubs), and mercantile elements, but they ran the Peterborough Bank too. William, Wright and Wright Thomas (as it was written) were all on the board of Improvement Commissioners when it was first created, Wright Thomas being only 18 or 19 at the time and the role being one for life.

 

You’re probably wondering why you haven’t heard of the Squires and why their names have almost vanished from the city when others have remained. Something I am investigating is the level of animosity between the Cookes and the Squires after Thomas and Charlotte’s marriage was annulled. William Walcot had married Julia Cooke shortly before Thomas and Charlotte's wedding and later wills etc. showed a deep connection across the families and that they still relied and trusted each other, but I’m not convinced that William had any time for his father-in-law. Any event that William supported, Thomas stayed away from and vice versa. This could simply be a coincidence or that the men had differing interests, but when these are subscriptions for books and charities, it does seem a little strange.

The main reason they’ve vanished from the city consciousness is because William Walcot sold up in the late 1830s. All of his businesses and concerns were sold on or passed to business associates. All of the land he owned (everything he could have seen from his front door and more, which was a vast amount) was sold off in portions for properties and small pastures. He sold off the brewery, the river tolls (he was forced to in the 1820s following the case against his nephew and niece), his mercantile business, and his house and contents. He moved, with whatever he had remaining, and started a new life in Cheltenham, in a beautiful house that is now a B&B! It was a slow decline, but the death of his uncle John in 1834 does seem to spur him on to leave the city.

With Wright Thomas already dead and buried in St John’s, there was no one left with the Squire name. Lucy had married John Turner Hale and lived in Norfolk. Charlotte, being covered in the stench of a failed marriage and the fact she was unable to have children, never married again and was therefore living at the will of her brother. There are no clues as to where she goes between her annulment and the first census, but she does spend the last few decades of her life in Cheltenham, a short distance from William and Julia.

Mary Anna was, it could be argued, the most successfully married of all the Squires. She caught the eye of Charles Mansfield Clarke, a noted surgeon from a family of surgeons specialising in obstetrics. He was later awarded a baronetcy, after attending to Queen Adelaide, elevating Charles to Sir and Mary to Lady! Their children and grandchildren continued to marry well, with a nod to the family history popping up in the name of their great grandson Sir Orme Bigland Clarke, the 4^th Baronet. Orme married Elfrida Roosevelt, (yes, of THAT Roosevelt family) meaning that any descendants have the pedigree of centuries of British and American heritage in their blood.

As an additional fact it’s worth mentioning that Mary Anna left her own personal memory of her life in Peterborough. Before she married, she painted an image from the front of Bridge House. It captured the life that she could see from her window and details the bridge over the river, people possibly waiting for a boat to Wisbech and horses and wagons going about their business. As artwork goes it is certainly not the work of a great master, but it is honest and original and provides us with the view from Bridge House that I alluded to earlier. I won’t reproduce it here, but you can find it in the Pitkin book on Peterborough or on the back cover of Peterborough Through Time by June and Vernon Bull. The image has always been attributed to MA Squire but I am possibly the first person to publicly name Mary Ann as the correct artist. Hunt it out and enjoy it, and remember the family that’s all but vanished from the city.

Inkhambridge

To someone with a background in both history and linguistics when I came across the name Inkhambridge in Peterborough records I was rather excited. The word appeared so incongruous with other Peterborough place names, and yet so perfectly placed historically and geographically ('inkham' or 'ingham' is such a great word to find in an area where most place names end in -ton). I had questions, specifically where Inkhambridge was, and I started looking for answers.

What Was the First Reference?

The earliest reference I have found to Inkhambridge was from a charter relating to the parish church (St John) and guild lands of Peterborough (1) and dated to 1355 which refers to ‘two acres of arable land lying in the fields of Peterborough at Inkhambridge adjoining the King’s highway known as Botolphgate.’

In another charter from the same collection (2) from 3 March 1381-82 there is a reference to ‘two acres of arable land situate at Inkhambridge in the fields of Peterborough adjoining the public way leading from Inkhambridge to Boongate.’

Where Were These  Locations?

Botolphgate was the name of the road that went past the hamlet of Botolphsbridge or Bottlebridge, which is now known as Oundle Road, Woodston. The hamlet had at one time a ford and/or bridge across the Nene close to where Nene Valley’s Fletton Junction is between Botolph Green and the rowing lake over the river. Earlier maps and archaeological digs (EEA Report 153 on Botolph Bridge) have shown how Botolphgate had been diverted from its earlier route, which made a gentle curve towards a crossing close to the location of the Key Theatre, meeting up with what is now Vineyard Road, east of the Cathedral.

Boongate, or Bondgate, was the name of the settlement to the east of the abbey which was close to Roman Car Dyke and predates the abbey/cathedral. Evidence of Bronze Age and Roman remains were found in the cathedral grounds and in the area of Boongate.

In present day Peterborough, Oundle Road meets London Road and crosses the river directly north onto Bridge Street. A bridge was first built there in 1308, so it was in place in the first reference to Inkhambridge in 1355, but from a linguistic point of view the location of Inkhambridge had to predate the 'new' bridge. 

What Can the Name of the Location Tell Us? 

Inkhambridge is an unusual name and likely to be a variant of Ingham Bridge (try saying them with a Scandinavian or German accent and see how similar the g and k sound). The ‘ingham’ part of the name is Anglo Saxon in origin, possibly dating from the 6^th century, if not earlier, and therefore pre-dating the abbey, which was founded in 6553. The name refers to a homestead and is common across England but tightly concentrated in Norfolk and Suffolk4. As you might expect from an early Anglo Saxon word, there aren't many 'inghams' in the fens or indeed around Peterborough, which makes this name in this location all the more interesting.

So Where Was Inkhambridge?

Joining together the two references, Inkhambridge was probably a bridge or crossing of the Nene where the embankment is now and would have been the main river crossing that led to Boongate from the south. The two acres of arable land mentioned are almost certainly to the east of the road running south from Boongate to the river, the west containing several river channels and belonging to the abbey at the time. 

With such an old name it's even possible that Inkham or Ingham was the name of the original settlement that pre-dated Boongate, or (more likely) was a settlement south of the river where Fletton Quays is now, surviving as a name in the river crossing alone. 

As a new pedestrian bridge is being built close to the location of the old settlement of Inkhambridge, is it a suitable name for the new bridge? I'm suggesting it is!

References

1. PAS/GCH/6

2. PAS/GCH/9 

3. https://farringford.co.uk/history/estate/place-name-derivation

4. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:-ham_and_-ingham_place_names.png

Image by Ryan McGuire from Pixabay