What did the Romans do … for St Leonard’s?

 

According to a recent poll, the four hundred years when the Romans were in Britain are among the country’s favourite periods in history.  (If you missed the survey, the two world wars and Victoria’s reign are also very popular.) Exeter has a notable place in our country’s Roman history --- just look at the number of local companies that use the Roman name “Isca”!  With long stretches of Roman walls still standing (despite the two world wars and Victorians), we have every right to be proud of our city’s Roman links. 

Earlier this year, as was noted in this Newsletter, the author John Pamment Salvatore published a history of Roman Exeter (“Exeter A Roman Legionary Fortress and Civitas Capital”), This brought together the results of archaeological digs in and around the city over the last fifty or so years, most notably the Roman legionary bathhouse that lies under Cathedral Green and the west front of the cathedral. At about the same time, excavations for the Guildhall revealed more evidence of the size of the legionary fortress.  The fortress ceased to be important for the army when the Romans moved to Caerleon and a military headquarters in South Wales.  So from about 80AD onwards, Exeter was largely a civilian city.

St Leonard’s is outside the fortress and the walls of the city; any Roman remains have probably been obliterated by the development of houses over the last two hundred years.  However, the book stresses how important Topsham Road was to both the Roman army and, later, the city of Isca itself. First, there were two significant sites studied in the 1970s around the Acorn car park and in Holloway Street.  Second, there was another important discovery when the St Loye’s site was developed and parking for the adjoining crematorium was extended.  In both places there was evidence of some buildings from very soon after the Roman occupation, but for civilian use. These were ---- probably --- traders supplying goods and services to the army, and acting as intermediaries between the invaders and the local population.  Topsham Road was Isca’s out of town shopping centre; we can only speculate how many other buildings there were along its length. 

However, Topsham Road was not only for shopping; it was a supply route. It’s easy to forget that until two or three centuries ago, goods and long-distance travellers went by sea. The archaeological evidence is considerable for believing that Topsham was Exeter’s port under the Romans.  When the M5 viaduct was being built, archaeologists found evidence of Roman buildings by today’s main road, and these were supplemented by the “dig” before the supermarket Aldi was constructed.  And these buildings included warehouses between road and river. Very recent studies by geographers have looked at the change in sea level over two thousand years, and suggest that sea-going ships could sail to near Lympstone and transfer their cargoes to smaller barges which could be brought to a wharf near the supermarket --- and then wagons could trundle up to the merchants in or near the city.  Among the many “finds” are items from across the Roman Empire brought by sailors and entrepreneurs.

So, what did the Romans do for St Leonard’s?  They gave us a road, they gave us businesses, they gave us foreign travel.

Opening Princesshay in 1949

 I thought that I had posted this in my blog, many years ago, but couldn't find it, so here is a piece of Exeter history.

Princesshay in “The Times”

 

Some time ago, I read a collection of the fourth leaders from “The Times” and came across the following.  In the days when “The Times” printed advertisements on its front page, the fourth editorial was often a light-hearted look at some aspect of the news, a habit which some newspapers continue.  The dedication of Princesshay in October 1949 prompted this offering:

 

The Times, October 25, 1949; page 5; Issue 51521; col D

 

Full Text: Copyright 1949, The Times

 

Street Names

On her recent visit to Exeter PRINCESS ELIZABETH inaugurated the rebuilding of the bombed parts of the city by naming a new street Princesshay. This was a pleasant inspiration, not only because it will permanently recall a happy occasion in Exeter's history, but because the new name conforms with the two time-­honoured ones of its main thoroughfares, Northernhay and Southernhay. It is not all city fathers that have so felicitous a model ready to their hands, and the naming of new streets must often present a difficult problem. Even as the postman probably, and the inquiring visitor certainly, prefers a row of numbered houses to "Chez nous" and "Glenside," so there is much to be said for some such system as that of the New York streets, combining numbers with points of the compass. It is a great help to the stranger striving to find his way, but it is a plan lacking something of romance and so dis­appointing to those who love names for their own sake. It is again a regrettable fact that street names making the strongest appeal to the sightseer may not be so agreeable to the inhabitants, especially those who earn their living there. There is, if memory serves, a Quiet Street in Bath and a Silent Street in lpswich. Here are two enchanting names which "impart to the relieved pedestrian the sensation of having put cotton in his ears and velvet soles on his boots" ; but they might con­ceivably be deemed bad for business. A man could dwell happily for ever in Crooked Usage, but he might think twice before setting up his shop there.

 

Yet this is a view that may easily be exaggerated and sometimes the inhabitants have a greater love for what is old and romantic and so far better sense than the local authorities. On the outskirts of a great western city there is a road called Plunder Street, recalling the time when highwaymen lay in wait there for coaches. It was proposed, doubtless with the best intentions, to change the name to one of a deadly and decent dullness, whereupon there was a levy en masse of the neigh­bourhood to protest against the outrage and Plunder Street gloriously remains. There is often much useful knowledge to be learnt from street names. Major Pendennis, who begged his nephew to read Debrett daily in order to avoid social solecisms, must often have felt his breast swell as he contemplated the streets and squares of London, so full of instruction are their names as to the seats and subsidiary titles of noble families. Changes there must be and the cluster of streets which once, we are told, commemorated at full length CHARLES VILLIERS, Duke of BUCKINGHAM, is not quite what it was; but if “Of Alley” has long departed, Villiers Street and Bucking­ham Street are still there. Much humbler and more local history is often to be traced. There must be numberless villages in England which still have a Mill Lane. The mill is gone but the sound of its sails still agreeably haunts the lane. District councils ought to deal very tenderly with these ancient names and if they want new ones an old map will often provide some. thing far better than their own prosaic and lamentable inventions.

 

(notes: yes, there is a “Quiet Street” in Bath, a “Silent Street” in Ipswich, which got the name through the rather dubious distinction of having all its inhabitants die within a single plague of illness, “Plunder Street” is in Cleeve in Somerset, “Crooked Usage” is an up-market address in Finchley, and there is a side street off the Strand with a sign stating that it was formerly “Of Alley”.  Major Pendennis is a snob who features in Thackeray’s novel “Pendennis”.)

 

David Smith

 

A walk along the walls, part 8

 

In the last issue, I included the sentence: ‘If another writer took you by the hand, for a walk around our neighbourhood, they might point out other “things”.’  I took that advice and on New Year’s Day, when I walked this route, I looked out for any wild plants that were in flower in the edge of the roads and pavements, spared from weedkiller.  There were six species flowering; a month later, there were two or three more, but far more greenery as plants put out their leaves. So my other “things” were wildflowers.

This walk starts in Magdalen Road, and we wander down towards the city, turning into Fairpark Road.  The lower part of Magdalen Road is lined on the right with the wall of the almshouses, very attractive stonework.  On the left, the scene is mixed, as houses have been built at different times.  Because the walls here are north-facing and are exposed to the weather and spray from the road, the stone supports lichens, mosses and other plants. 

Once in Fairpark Road, the walls are neat and do not show many signs of change.  Then wander down the steep passageway on the right. The buildings on the right occupy the site of the St Mary Magdalene Hospital, a hospital for lepers built in the 12^th century.  And that ancient building is why Magdalen Road and Magdalen Street got their names, though the final “e” in the hospital name got lost over the years.  The wall on the right of the passage is somewhat plain; on the left, there is a field wall from the 19^th century, using the ubiquitous sandstone.  Below that are walls that date from the building of Temple Road at the foot of the slope.  Once again, the walls support a variety of plant life.  The north wall of Bull Meadow is part of the support of the viaduct across the valley, and is faced with mixed stone.  The viaduct opened soon after Queen Victoria’s accession; the people of Exeter were complaining about the difficulty of crossing the valley, and it is likely that the residents of new houses in St Leonard’s were among the voices calling for change. 

Close to the city, the walls of the two old cemeteries are a confusion of brick and stone, with additions to old field walls topped with brick.  The site of the leper hospital was an orchard until the early 20^th century, and the story of how the area became a public park is one of squabbles between local people and the City Council.  It is detailed online as a page of Exeter Memories.

Walking away from the viaduct takes you to the boundaries of the houses in several streets, the back of the former school (now a place of worship) and the back of the Bull Meadow Clinic, an interesting example of 1920’s architecture when it was built as an “Infant Welfare Centre”.  There is a gap which leads into Lansdowne Terrace, whose ten houses date from the mid-19^th century.  As you walk along, there is one set of railings which escaped being salvaged in the Second World War.  Since the terraced houses below Lansdowne Terrace are much later, we can only imagine the semi-rural view that the first residents enjoyed.

This brings you to Holloway Street; now you can walk back to your start through the terraced streets, or retrace your walk through the park.  But before you do, look at the junction with Roberts Road.  Anything odd?  There is a line of paving across the road, a relic of a much older road surface.