Memorials of Old London. Volume 1 (of 2)

by Unknown

IV.—Norman London

London comes more and more into prominence in the second half of the eleventh century. Whether this was on account of the increase of its trade and wealth when the Danes had ceased from troubling, or on account of the personal qualities of certain citizens, we cannot now distinguish. The French or Norman element increased, and it is possible to name a few individuals who are known to have lived within the walls both before and after Hastings. Among them are Albert the Lotharingian, after whom Lothbury is called. William "de Pontearch" and William Malet, both of whom are mentioned in histories of the Conquest, were citizens. Ansgar, the Staller, who was Portreeve the year of Hastings, appears to have been, like King Harold, of Danish descent. He was described in Edward the Confessor's great charter to Westminster Abbey as "Esgar, minister," so apparently filled several offices, as well as that of Portreeve. We begin about the same time to hear of a governing guild, and of reeveland, or a portsoken, as its endowment. Sired, a canon of St. Paul's, built a church on land belonging to the Knightenguild. There is mention, apparently, of a son of Sired, who was a priest, about the time of Hastings, among the documents preserved at St. Paul's; but I have, so far, failed to find any reference there to this guild, of which Stow has so much to tell. According to him, it was founded by Edward the Confessor, or perhaps by Edgar, and had a charter from William Rufus. Can it be commemorated in the name of the Guildhall which then fronted Aldermanbury?

More authentic are the charter of the Conqueror and a few facts which go to prove that London and its trading and industrial citizens were but little disturbed by the change of government. Things went on as before. The bishop, himself an alderman, the Portreeve and the burghers, French and English, are addressed "friendly." The liberties, whatever they were—whether, as Mr. Gomme thinks, they had come down from Roman times, or whether, as seems to me so much more likely, they had come over from the cities of the continent—were confirmed to them, and everything went on as before.

One other charter in Norman times may suffice to illustrate the position of the great walled city and its busy and wealthy port under the Norman kings. This was the grant of Middlesex to the citizens by Henry I. This grant, which was only abrogated in 1888 by Act of Parliament, gave London the same rights over the county that were held in those days by the earls and reeves of shires. Dr. Reginald Sharpe seems to think that this charter was granted for a heavy money payment. But there are other ways of looking at the matter. It would appear probable that King Henry recognised the help the city had given him; first, in obtaining the crown, and afterwards in maintaining his position. The King, no doubt, wanted money. The citizens did not expect favours without payment; it would have been contrary to all previous experience. But the gift was a very real boon, one which could not very well have been valued in gold. That a Norman king should have been willing to grant away the deer which his father was said to have loved like his children shows clearly that there was a strong sense of obligation in the King's mind.

The constitution of the city during the reigns of the Norman kings, if we may judge by what we find in twelfth-century documents at St. Paul's and in thirteenth-century documents at the Guildhall, must have been, as Bishop Stubbs and Professor Freeman have pointed out, that of a county. The municipal unity was of the same kind as that of the shire and the hundred. The Portreeve accounted to the King for his dues. He was the justice, and owed his position to popular election as approved by the King. Under him were the aldermen of wards, answering very nearly to lords of manors. The people had their folkmote, answering to the shiremote elsewhere. Their weekly husting eventually became a "county court," and there was besides the wardmote, which still exists, and led eventually to the abolition of proprietary aldermen in favour of aldermen elected by the wards.

At this period the buildings of the city began to assume a certain importance we do not hear of under the Saxons. St. Paul's became a notable example of what we now call Norman architecture. The nave survived until the fire in 1666. The church of St. Mary le Bow, in Cheap, still retains its Norman crypt. The great white tower, with which the Conqueror strengthened the eastern extremity of the Saxon and Roman wall, contains still its remarkable vaulted chapel. A few other relics of the style survive, but St. Bartholomew's is outside the line of the wall.

The Gates of the City: Ludgate and Newgate.

To the old gates must now be added one more—namely, Ludgate. "Ludgate" or "Lydgate" is like Crepulgate, a Saxon term, and signifies a postern, perhaps a kind of trap door opening with a lid. The exact date is unknown, but the building of a new street across the Fleet, with a bridge of access, is evident from documents mentioning the names of persons who dwelt "ultra fletam," which are found early in the reign of Henry I. Another gate was subsequently added—namely, Aldgate—in or about the beginning of the twelfth century. The names of both these gates have been subjects of much guesswork, not only by such topographers as Stukeley, but even by Stow. Ludgate was, of course, assigned to an imaginary King, Lud, celebrated in the great poem of the Welsh bard, who made London the foundation of descendants of Æneas of Troy. Much of this was extensively believed in the Middle Ages; and some of us imagined that Ludgate might have been called in honour of one of the heroes of the poem, until the real meaning of the word was pointed out. With regard to Aldgate, a meaningless name, we always find it spelled without the "d" in old manuscripts, and usually with an added "e." Stow perceived that to be consistent he must put the "e" in; but he did so in the wrong place, with the result that Alegate or Allgate, perhaps meaning a gate open free to all, is turned into Ealdgate, and has its age wholly mistaken. It was, no doubt, built when the Lea was bridged, traditionally by Queen Maud, about 1110. Previously the paved crossing, the Stratford, was reckoned dangerous, and passengers went out by Bishopsgate and sought a safer crossing at Oldford. The last of the city gates, Moorgate, was not opened till 1415. It was erected for the convenience of citizens passing out among the fields. It is evident that fortification had become a secondary object. Accordingly, it is often described as the most spacious and handsome of the city gates.

The others, especially Ludgate and Newgate, were, we may be sure, judging by Roman and mediæval fortifications elsewhere, narrow and inconvenient. There was probably an overlapping tower in front of the exit, and the pathway described a semicircle, as we know was the case at the Tower, where the present arrangement, by which a vehicle can drive in, was not possible till the Lion Tower and its overlapping defence, the Conning Tower, were removed. That something of the same kind existed at the Old Bailey is evident on an inspection of the boundary of the ward in a good map, where the overlapping is clearly marked both at Ludgate and at Newgate. The roadways at both places were made straight, the larger archways opened, and the stately portals, suggested by Stukeley and others, erected, if ever, when the wall was no longer regarded as a fortification. This view may, in part at least, account for a statement that the Roman gate, which answered to Bishopsgate, was considerably to the eastward of the mediæval gate, removed in 1760. The Roman gate, to be useful and at the same time safe, probably consisted of a narrow passage, opening into the city at a point near the northern end of the road from the Bridge. The passage, guarded by towers, would have its exit some distance to the eastward, and probably, before it reached the outer country, passed back under the wall. We see arrangements of this kind at any place, like Pompeii, where a Roman fortification unaltered may be examined.

We have thus, I hope, traced the beginnings of our great city, not so clearly as to its origin as could be wished, but sufficiently as to its development from a Roman fort or bridge head. Others will take up the tale here and show how the walls and gates, the churches and the great castle, the double market and riverside landing places, became by degrees the greatest city in the land. London, rather than royal Winchester, held the balance between Maud and Stephen, and with the election of Henry II., the first Plantagenet, we come upon the establishment of the modern municipal constitution and the long battle for freedom. The Londoner set a pattern to other English burghers. His keenness in trade, his vivacity, his tenacity of liberty and, perhaps above all, the combination of duty and credit which brought him wealth, have made his city what it is—the central feature of a world-wide empire.

The Gates of the City: Moorgate and Aldgate.

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THE TOWER OF LONDON
By Harold Sands, F.S.A.

It has been well and wisely said that "the history of its castles is an epitome of the history of a country," but the metropolis may proudly boast that it still possesses one castle whose history alone forms no bad compendium of the history of England, in the great fortress so familiarly known by the somewhat misleading appellation of "The Tower of London," of which the name of one portion (the keep) has gradually come into use as a synonym for the whole. Of the various fortress-palaces of Europe, not one can lay claim to so long or so interesting a history. The Louvre at Paris, though still in existence, is so as a comparatively modern palace, in which nothing now remains above ground of the castle of Philip Augustus, with its huge circular keep, erected by that monarch in 1204. The Alhambra at Granada is of a by no means so remote antiquity, as the earlier portion of it only dates from 1248, while the Kremlin at Moscow only goes back to 1367. Probably the sole building erected by a reigning monarch as a combined fortress and palace at all comparable with the Tower of London is the great citadel of Cairo, built in 1183 by Saladin, which, like it, is still in use as a military castle; but, secure in its venerable antiquity, the Tower is superior to all. The greater portion of the site upon which the Tower stands has been occupied more or less since A.D. 369, when, according to Ammianus, the Roman wall surrounding the city of London was built. At this point, which may be termed its south-eastern extremity, the wall crossed the gentle slope that descended to the Thames bank, on reaching which it turned westwards, the angle being probably capped by a solid buttress tower or bastion. Although Roman remains have been found at various points within the Tower area, it is not likely that any extensive fortification ever occupied the sloping site within the wall at this point, for the original Roman citadel must be sought for elsewhere, most probably upon the elevated plateau between the valley of the Wallbrook, and Billingsgate, where even now there stands in Cannon Street, built into a recess in the wall of St. Swithin's church, a fragment of the ancient Roman milestone, or milliarium (known as "London Stone"), from which all distances along the various Roman roads of Britain are believed to have been reckoned. From what is known of the Roman system of fortification, it is obviously improbable that there should have been any extensive fortress erected upon the site where the Tower now stands. Not only would this have been opposed to the Roman practice of placing the arx, or citadel, as far as possible in a central and dominating position, but in the present instance it would actually have been commanded by higher ground to the north and west, while to the east free exit to the open country would have been seriously impeded by the extensive marshes (not as yet embanked and reclaimed) that then skirted the northern bank of the Thames.

The Tower of London.
Engraved by Hollar, 1647.

According to the Saxon Chronicle,[1] King Alfred "restored" London in 886, and rebuilt the city wall, where it had become ruinous, upon the line of the ancient Roman one; and, until the Norman Conquest, it seems to have remained practically unaltered, nor does it appear to have been damaged by the various Danish attacks in 994, 1009, and 1016,[2] though frequently repaired afterwards during the Middle Ages. Without the wall was a wide and deep ditch, while between the edge of the ditch and the foot of the wall was the characteristic "berm," or external terrace, about ten feet in width.[3] There is every reason to suppose that this wall and ditch extended right across what is now the inner ward, or bailey of the Tower, as far as what was then the river bank, to a point somewhere near the site of the present Lanthorn Tower "k," where it turned to the west; for when, in 1895, the range of buildings of fourteenth century date (then known as the Great Wardrobe, "3") that formerly concealed the eastern face of the White Tower was removed, part of the ancient Roman wall was found to have been preserved within it, and a fragment, having the usual bonding courses of Roman tile bricks, has been spared, which may now be seen above ground close to the south-east angle of the keep, together with the remains of the Wardrobe Tower "s." If a line is drawn northward from this point[4] across the present moat, it will be found to meet what remains of the old city wall, which is still partly visible above ground in a yard known as "Trinity Place," leading out of the eastern side of Trinity Square, on Great Tower Hill. Such Roman remains as have been found within the Tower area do not tend to favour the supposition that any large buildings, save ordinary dwellings of the period, ever occupied the site. On his first approach to the city from Kent, when Duke William discovered that so long as he was unable to cross the Thames London could not be immediately reduced, after burning Southwark in order to strike terror into the citizens, he left it a prey to internal dissensions, and having in the meantime received the submission of the ancient Saxon capital of Winchester, he passed round, through Surrey, Berkshire, and Hertfordshire, by a route, upon which the ravages of the Normans are clearly indicated in Domesday Book,[5] to a position on the north of London, thus gradually severing its communications with the rest of England, so that neither men nor convoys of provisions could enter its walls. Placing camps at Slough, Edmonton, and Tottenham, William himself remained some distance to the rear of these last with the main body of the army, and it seems probable that the actual surrender of London took place at or near Little Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire,[6] some four miles to the east of Hatfield, and then about eighteen miles to the north of the city, which could be seen in the distance from the high ground hard by.

According to Orderic, William, after his coronation at Westminster, spent some days at Berkhampstead, during which "some fortifications were completed in the city for a defence against any outbreaks by its fierce and numerous population."[7] Meagre in details as is the history of this early period, it would appear from the foregoing passage that William caused two castles to be erected, one at either end of the city, hard by the river bank, the western one becoming the castle of that Ralph Baynard who gave his name to it and to the ward; the eastern one (after the building of its stone keep) receiving the appellation of the Tower of London.

When erected on new sites, the early castles seem to have consisted of a bailey, or court, enclosed by wooden palisades, and a lofty circular mound, having its apex crowned by a wooden tower dwelling, also within a stockade, the whole enclosed by a ditch common to both; but though nothing remains of these early castles in London, it seems probable that the mound was dispensed with, and that the angle of the wall was utilized to form a bailey, the side open to the city being closed by a ditch and bank, crowned by stout palisades of timber, while the Roman wall would be broken through where the ditch abutted upon it at either end, the whole bearing a strong resemblance (allowing for the difference in the site) to the castle of Exeter. Orderic goes on to say that William at once built a strong castle at Winchester, to the possession of which he evidently attached greater importance than that of London, where the great stone keep was probably not even commenced till quite a decade later, though Pommeraye, in a note to his edition of Orderic, tells us "that it was built upon the same plan as the old Tower of Rouen, now destroyed."

The advantages of the site selected for the Tower were considerable, the utilization of the existing Roman wall to form two sides of its bailey, its ditch isolating it from the city, while it was so placed on the river as to command the approach to the Saxon trade harbour at the mouth of the Wallbrook, then literally the port of London, and with easy access to the open country should a retreat become necessary.

It is much to be regretted that London was omitted from the Domesday Survey, for that invaluable record might have furnished us with some information as to the building of the Tower, and perhaps revealed in one of those brief but pithy sentences, pregnant with suggestion, some such ruthless destruction of houses as took place in Oxford and elsewhere[8] in order to clear a site for the King's new castle. Unless the site were then vacant, or perhaps only occupied by a vineyard (for these are mentioned in Domesday Book as existing at Holborn and Westminster),[9] some such clearance must obviously have been made for even the first temporary fortifications of the Conqueror, although contemporary history is silent as to this. The Saxon Chronicle tells us that "upon the night of August the 15th, 1077, was London burned so extensively as it never was before since it was founded,"[10] which may have determined William to replace the temporary eastern fortification by an enlarged and permanent castle, he having then completed the conquest of England and crushed the rebellions of his turbulent baronage.

Although the art of the military engineer was then in its infancy, the Conqueror seems to have selected as his architect one already famous for his skill. Gundulf, then just appointed Bishop of Rochester, was no ordinary man. The friend and protégé of Archbishop Lanfranc, by whom he had been brought to England in 1070, he had as a young man been on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and doubtless profited by his travels and the opportunity afforded of inspecting some of the architectural marvels of the Romano-Byzantine engineers. Although Gundulf had rebuilt the cathedral of Rochester, to which he added the large detached belfry tower that still bears his name, built other church towers at Dartford, and St. Leonard's, West Malling (long erroneously supposed to have been an early Norman castle keep),[11] and founded at the latter place an abbey of Benedictine nuns, his reputation as an architect rests chiefly on his having designed the keep of the Tower of London (probably that of Colchester also), and built the stone wall round the new castle at Rochester for William Rufus. While engaged in superintending the erection of London keep, Gundulf lodged in the house of one Eadmer Anhœnde,[12] a citizen of London, probably a friend of the Bishop, for we find his name occurring as a generous donor to Gundulf's new cathedral at Rochester, where, by his will, he directed his own body and that of his wife to be interred, and to have an obit annually. Gundulf's work therefore consisted of the great keep (afterwards called the White Tower), which he erected close to the line of the Roman city wall, and some fifteen or twenty feet within it. At first this was probably (like its sister keep at Colchester) only enclosed by a shallow ditch and a high earthen bank, crowned by a stout timber palisade, the city wall forming two sides of its perimeter, and probably broken through where the ditch infringed upon it at either end. With the sole exception of Colchester keep, which, as will be seen from the following table of dimensions, is considerably larger, the tower or keep of the castle of London exceeds in size the great rectangular keep of every other castle in the British Isles. Unfortunately, the two upper stories of Colchester keep have been destroyed, but sufficient remains (coupled with the resemblance of its plan to that of the White Tower) to show that both were designed by the same hand and erected about the same period, while both alike were royal castles.

Table of Comparative Dimensions

	London.		Colchester.
Length (North to South) over all	121	feet	170	feet
Ditto within Buttresses	118	"	153	"
Breadth (East to West) over all	100	"	130	"
Ditto within Buttresses	98	"	115	"
Breadth of Apse	42	"	48	"
Diameter of Apse	21	"	24	"
Length (on South Side) over all	128	"	153	"
Number of Stories	4		now 2
Total Height	92	feet	——
Height of Two Lower Stories	42	"	32	feet
Thickness of Walls	15	"	14	"

Thanks to the drastic removals of recent years, the White Tower stands to-day very much as when first erected. In plan it is practically rectangular, but the north-east angle is capped by a projecting circular turret containing the great main staircase that ascends from the basement to the roof, serving each floor en passant, while the south angle of the east face has a large semicircular projection that contains the apse of the chapel. The main staircase terminates in a large circular turret of two stories, that rises some twenty-nine feet above the roof. The other angles terminate in three rectangular turrets about fourteen feet square, and twenty-seven feet high above the roof. The walls are at the base some fifteen feet in thickness, exclusive of the steep battering plinth from which they rise, and which slopes sharply outwards. They diminish by set-offs at each floor. The interior is divided into two unequally sized chambers by a cross-wall ten feet in thickness, running from north to south. Of these, the eastern one is again subdivided by a thick cross-wall at its southern end, which is carried up solid to the roof, while on the upper floors the central wall is perforated by arcades of three, and four perfectly plain semicircular headed arches. To the north and west the basement floor is about sixteen feet below the existing ground level, which falls rapidly along the east side, and on the south it is practically on the ground level, as the ground there has not been artificially raised. The two larger chambers of the basement have a modern plain brick barrel vault. The well, a plain ashlar pipe six feet in diameter, is in the south-western angle of the floor in the western chamber. The south-eastern chamber retains its original stone barrel vault. This forms the sub-crypt of the crypt below St. John's Chapel, and is lighted, or at least its darkness is made dimly visible, by a single small loop in the east wall. It is now known as "Little Ease," and is said to have served as the prison of Guy Fawkes. The basement chambers have boldly sloped recesses in the walls, with small loops high up in their heads, which afford the minimum of air and light; but as they were only used for stores, this was not of great importance. Ascending by the main staircase to the second floor, the same subdivision into three chambers is continued, but these were lighted by larger loops, that have been converted into larger windows at the time of Sir Christopher Wren's renovations in 1663. The crypt of the chapel opens from the eastern chamber, and has in its north wall a singular dark cell eight feet wide and ten feet long, in the thickness of the wall, in which Sir Walter Raleigh is said to have once been imprisoned. The western chamber has in its north-west angle a latrine, or garderobe, in the thickness of the wall. At the west end of its south face is a large original opening, with parallel sides, having niches in them. The masonry shows traces of where the arch and door jambs have been torn away and the present large window substituted, probably during Wren's alterations. There is little room to doubt that this was the original door of entrance, placed, as is usual, some distance above ground, and probably reached by an external flight of steps, now removed, protected by a similar fore building to that of Rochester keep.[13]

Proceeding by the main stair to the third floor, we enter first what is known as the "Banqueting Hall," which is lighted by four large windows, and has a fireplace in its east wall, with two latrine chambers in its north and east walls. Passing through a low doorway in the partition wall, we enter the great western chamber, which has a fireplace in its west wall, a latrine in its north wall, and is lighted by eight large windows. Two newel staircases in the western angles ascend to the battlements. In the south wall is a doorway leading to a passage at the head of a small newel stair, which, rising from a door in the wall on the floor below, formerly afforded a direct communication from the palace to the chapel of St. John upon the third floor, without entering the keep. At the foot of this stair, in the time of Charles II., some bones in a chest were discovered by workmen engaged in repairs, which were said to be those of the murdered Edward V. and his brother the Duke of York. These were transferred; by the King's instructions, to the vaults of Westminster Abbey.

Ascending to the fourth floor, there are two large rooms separated by the cross-wall, the arcade of which was probably filled in with wooden partitions. The larger or western room is known as the "Council Chamber," and the other as the "Royal Apartments." Neither has any fireplace. Over the vaulting of the chapel, close under the flat, lead roof, there is a curious cell about seven feet high, lighted by small loop windows, which extends the entire length of the chapel. Formerly used as a prison, it must have subjected its miserable inmates to even more trying variations of heat and cold than the famous "Piombi" of Venice.

With the exception of the chapel, its crypt, and sub-crypt, which were vaulted throughout, all the floors were originally of wood, and were supported on double rows of stout oak posts, which in their turn sustained the massive oak main floor beams.

The forebuilding, on the south face of the keep, was probably added by Henry II. It survived until 1666, as it is shown in a view of the Tower executed by Hollar about that date; but it appears to have been removed prior to 1681.

The chapel of St. John is a fine example of early Norman ecclesiastical architecture. It consists of a nave, with vaulted aisles, having an apsidal eastern termination. It is covered by a plain barrel vault, and on the fourth floor level has a triforial gallery, also vaulted. It is connected by two doors with the gallery in the thickness of the wall that surrounds this floor, from one of the windows of which it is said that Bishop Ralph Flambard effected his remarkable escape.

It is probable that at first (except the chapel, which was covered by its own independent roof) there were two separate high-pitched roofs, one covering each division, and not rising above the battlements, the wall gallery serving as a kind of additional fighting deck, for which reason it was carried round the triforium of the chapel. As the need for this diminished, two large additional rooms were gained by raising the central wall a story, and superposing a flat, lead roof.

The absence of privacy, fireplaces, and sanitary accommodation on this fourth floor, with the cold draughts from the stairways and windows of the wall-gallery, must have been well-nigh intolerable; nor could wooden screens, hangings, or charcoal brasiers have rendered it endurable. It is not surprising, therefore, that under Henry III. the palace was considerably enlarged, or that these chambers were abandoned by him for warmer quarters below, in the Lanthorn Tower "k," and its new turret "J" although the chapel and council chamber continued to be used down to a much later date.

After the siege of Rochester by William Rufus in 1088, Gundulf had built a stone wall round the new castle of Rochester. This probably moved the King to enclose the Tower of London with a similar wall, for the Saxon Chronicle tells us that in 1091 "a stone wall was being wrought about the Tower, a stone bridge across the Thames was being built, and a great hall was being erected at Westminster, whereby the citizens of London were grievously oppressed."[14]

Now, as Gundulf did not die until 1108, it is by no means improbable that, while superintending the erection of these two great towers at London and Colchester,[15] he also constructed the stone wall round the former, for the chronicler says of him that "in opere cæmentarii plurimum sciens et efficax erat."[16]

As it is on record that the smaller keep of Dover, built by Henry II. nearly a century later, was upwards of ten years in construction, while some additional time had been consumed—in the collection of materials and workmen—with the preliminary preparation of the site, it does not seem probable that the great Tower of London (honeycombed as its walls are with cells and mural passages) could have been erected in a much shorter space of time. When the ruder appliances of the earlier period are taken into account, such a keep could not have been built in a hurry, for time would be needed to allow the great mass of the foundation to gradually settle, and for the mortar to set. Although preparations for its erection may have begun as early as 1083, it seems more probable that the White Tower was not commenced much before 1087, or completed before 1097.

Stow, quoting from FitzStephen's Description of London,[17] mentions the White Tower as being "sore shaken by a great tempest of wind in the year 1091," which, as I do not (with the conspicuous modesty of the late Professor Freeman) "venture to set aside the authority of the chronicles"[18] when they have the audacity to differ from my preconceived ideas, seems to me reasonable ground upon which to argue that not only was the White Tower then in course of erection, but that in that year the works were not in a very advanced state. That it must have been completed prior to 1100 is evidenced by the fact that King Henry I., on succeeding to the throne in August of that year, committed to the custody of William de Mandeville, then Constable of the Tower, his brother's corrupt minister, Ranulph (or Ralph) Flambard, Bishop of Durham. The chronicler exultingly tells us that he was ordered[19] "to be kept in fetters, and in the gloom of a dungeon," which must have been either "Little Ease" or the small dark cell opening from the crypt of St. John's Chapel, afterwards rendered famous by the imprisonment there of Sir Walter Raleigh.

Although the great fortress-palace was to subsequently acquire a most sinister reputation as a state prison, yet the present is the first recorded instance of the committal of a great and notorious offender to its dungeon cells. Subsequently, however, the severity of the bishop's imprisonment appears to have been somewhat mitigated, for the King ordered him to be allowed the large sum of two shillings a day for his maintenance; so that, although a prisoner, he was enabled to fare sumptuously.

One day after the Christmas of 1101, a long rope having been secretly conveyed to him, concealed in a cask of wine, by one of his servants, he caused a plentiful banquet to be served up, to which he invited his keepers, and having intoxicated them to such a degree that they slept soundly, the bishop secured the cord to a mullion in one of the double windows of the southern wall-gallery in the keep, and, catching up his pastoral staff, began to lower himself down. Having forgotten to put on gloves, and being a heavy, stout man, the rope severely lacerated his hands, and as it did not reach the ground he fell some feet and was severely bruised. His trusty followers had horses in readiness, on one of which they mounted him. The party fled to the coast, took ship, and crossed over to Normandy to seek refuge with Duke Robert.[20] After some time had elapsed, he contrived to make his peace with Henry, who allowed him to return to England, when he regained his See of Durham, of which he completed the cathedral, and also added to the works of the great castle there. The window from which he is supposed to have escaped is over sixty-five feet from the ground, and his evasion was evidently considered at the time a most audacious and remarkable feat, as more than one contemporary chronicler gives a very detailed and circumstantial account of it.

It is not until the Edwardian period of our history that we find castles used as places for the secure detention of captives. In the earlier Norman times dungeons were of little use, their policy being one of ruthless extermination, or of mutilation, in order to strike terror into rebellious populations.[21] Only persons of the most exalted rank, such as Duke Robert of Normandy, Bishops Odo, of Bayeux, and Ralph Flambard, of Durham, Earl Roger, the son of William FitzOsbern, with a few distinguished Saxon captives, underwent a prolonged imprisonment.

The Tower of London as it exists to-day has, by a slow process of gradual accretion round the keep as a nucleus, become what is known as a "concentric" castle, or one upon the concentric plan, from the way in which one ward encloses another; and its architectural history falls, roughly speaking, into three chief periods covered by the reigns of William Rufus, Richard I., and Henry III., all the more important additions to the fortress occurring approximately within these periods, as will be seen later on.

Commencing with the building of the great keep (now called the White Tower), and the small inner or palace ward to the south of it, by William the Conqueror, this at first was probably only enclosed by a stout timber palisade on the top of a raised bank of earth, having a ditch at its base. The first recorded stone wall round the Tower was that of William Rufus, already mentioned, and it is not improbable that the wall marked "v" on the plan (only discovered in 1899 during the erection of the new guard house) may have formed part of his work.

But little is known to have been added by Henry I. The sole remaining Pipe Roll of his reign only records a payment of £17 0s. 6d. "in operatione Turris Lundoniae," without any further mention of what these works were, and as the amount is not very large, it is not probable that they included anything of much importance. That the smaller inner or palace ward to the south of the keep was already completed, is shown by a charter of the Empress Maud, dated Midsummer, 1141, which granted to Geoffrey de Mandeville (then Constable of the Tower, and third of his family to hold that important office) the custody of the Tower, worded as follows: "Concedo illi, et heredibus suis, Turris Lundoniae cum 'parvo castello' quod fuit Ravengeri";[22] and this "little castle" is the before mentioned inner or palace ward, though how or where this was originally entered from the city nothing now remains to tell us—most probably at or near the point subsequently occupied by the Cold Harbour Gate "u," at the south-west angle of the "turris," or White Tower "r," for it is but seldom that the original entrance gates of castle baileys or courtyards are removed, unless in the case of an entire re-arrangement of the plan, with the consequent rebuilding thereby rendered necessary.

Owing to the state of anarchy that prevailed during the troubled reign of Stephen, and the destruction of all the Pipe Rolls and other records that resulted, it is improbable that any extensive works were in progress during that period.

Although the Pipe Rolls of Henry II. record a total amount expended upon works at the Tower of £248 6s. 8d., but little appears to have been added as to which we can speak with any certainty, unless it be the forebuilding of the keep "y" (long since destroyed), the gatehouse of the inner ward "u," and perhaps the basement of the hall or Wakefield tower "l."

As at first constructed, the White Tower (like its fellow at Colchester) had no forebuilding covering the original entrance, which was at the western extremity of its south front, upon the first floor, then some twenty-five feet above the external ground level. The small doorway leading to the flight of stairs in the south wall which ascends to St. John's Chapel, by which visitors now enter the keep, is not, and is far too small in size to have ever been, the original entrance.

On the Pipe Rolls there are frequent entries of sums for the repairs of the "King's houses in the Tower," probably the great hall "x," with its kitchen and other appendant buildings; "of the chapel" (obviously that of St. Peter, as that of St. John in the keep would hardly be in need of any structural repairs at so early a date); and "of the gaol." These last doubtless stood in an outer ward added by Henry I., and at first probably only enclosed by the usual ditch and earthen rampart, furnished with stout wooden palisades.

St. John's Chapel, Tower of London.

It is somewhat difficult to assign any precise date for the first foundation of the "Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula apud turrim." It is not probable that it was contemporary with the Chapel of St. John, but was doubtless erected by Henry I. when he enlarged the area of the outer ward of the Tower; as this necessitated a considerable increase to the permanent garrison, St. John's Chapel in the keep would no longer suffice for their accommodation, and a new chapel would become necessary. If St. Peter's Chapel had only been parochial (which at its first erection it was not), it might have been possible to ascertain the precise date of its foundation.

In 20 Henry II. (or 1174), Alnod, the engineer, received the sum of £11 13s. 4d. for works at the Tower. Other payments occur for sheet-lead for the repairs of the chapel, the carriage of planks, and timber for the kitchen,[23] the gateway of the gaol (probably Cold Harbour Gate "u"), various repairs to the "King's houses within the bailey of the Tower," and occasionally for the repairs to the "turris" or great keep itself. This, when first built, was of rough rag-stone, rudely coursed, with very open joints in thick mortar, so that these repairs (consisting, doubtless, of patching and pointing) occur with more or less frequency.

Not until 1663 did the keep receive its final disfigurement, at the hands of Sir Christopher Wren, who cased part of the exterior in Portland stone, rebuilt two of the angle turrets, and "Italianised" all the window openings, thereby obliterating many valuable mediæval details.

All these outlays are certified by the view and report of two inspecting officials, Edward Blund and William Magnus, the works being carried out by Alnod, while the writs authorising payments were signed by one or other of the justiciars, Ranulph de Glanville and Richard de Lucy, or by the King himself.

The following reign marks a period of great constructive activity at the Tower. The new monarch was one of the foremost military engineers of the age; and when we consider the valuable experience in the art of war which he had already gained, in the decade prior to his accession to the throne, in conducting (while Count of Poitiers and Duke of Aquitaine) various sieges of the castles of his rebellious barons in those provinces, it seems improbable that he would have been satisfied to leave the Tower in the condition it then was, with a keep standing in a small inner ward, enclosed by a plain stone curtain wall, devoid of any projecting towers, unless perhaps the base of the Hall tower, and the Cold Harbour Gate (see [plan]), and a large outer ward, only enclosed by a wooden palisade and ditch.

Richard must have been well aware of the enormous increase to the power of effective defence conferred by salient or boldly projecting towers flanking with their fire the curtain walls, which in England, at any rate, were then somewhat of a novelty. At this time the Tower was extremely defective in this respect, its great need being not for mere repairs, but for effective modernization as a fortress.

Before embarking upon the hazardous enterprise of the third Crusade, Richard left his trusted Chancellor, William Longchamp, to carry out an extensive series of new works at the Tower, all of which were probably from the designs of the sovereign himself.

In his valuable monograph upon the Tower,[24] the late G. T. Clark, F.S.A., has fallen into a strange error as to the actual amount expended upon works there during the earlier years of the reign of Richard I., which he states "do not show above one or two hundred pounds of outlay." When this rather dogmatic assertion is tested by reference to the existing documentary evidence of the Public Records, its glaring inaccuracy is at once apparent; indeed, it might fitly serve as an illustration of Pope's well-known lines:

"A little learning is a dangerous thing,
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring."

The Pipe Roll of 2 Richard I. discloses an expenditure, "ad operationes turris Lundoniae," amounting to no less than £2,881 1s. 10d., in itself a sufficiently large sum, but one which, when multiplied twenty-fold in order to bring it up to its present-day value,[25] is increased to £57,621 16s. 8d. of our modern money!

The custody of the Tower was entrusted by Longchamp to one of his dependents, William Puinctel, who seems to have acted as Constable and superintendent of the new works, according to the Pipe Roll of 2 Richard I.

It is well known that all the contributions levied in the King's name do not invariably appear set out in full in the records, and there were certainly other sources of revenue open to the Chancellor, of which he doubtless took the fullest advantage.[26] The difficulty in this case is not so much his raising the funds needed for carrying out these works (which he undoubtedly did), but to account for their rapid completion in so short a time.

If, however, it was possible, only seven years later, for Richard himself to build, in a far more inaccessible situation, the entire castle of Chateau Gaillard in the short space of a single year, it need not have been so difficult for Longchamp to carry out in two or three years the works we are about to describe, especially when we consider that he had practically unlimited funds at his disposal.[27]

Until the period of which we write, the area enclosed by the Tower fortifications lay wholly within, and to the west of the ancient city wall, which had been utilized to form its eastern curtain. The perimeter was now to be largely increased by the addition of a new outer ward, "W," extending entirely round the fortress, having a new curtain wall of stone, furnished with two large bastions (now entirely re-modelled and modernised), known as the "Legge Mount" and "Brass Mount" towers, "S" and "T." The so-called "North Bastion," capping the salient angle of the wall between them, being a purely modern work of recent date, has been intentionally omitted from the plan.

The inner ward now received a large addition. To the east of the White Tower, the old Roman city wall, where it crossed the line of the new works (see [plan]), was entirely demolished, and a new wall, some one hundred and eighty feet further to the east, and studded with numerous towers at frequent intervals, took its place, and on the north, west, and south replaced the former palisaded bank and ditch. Most of these towers, as at first constructed, were probably open at the gorge, or inner face, and not until a later period were they raised a stage, closed at the gorge, and in several instances had the early fighting platforms of timber replaced by stone vaulting.

When the remains of the Wardrobe Tower "s" were exposed some years ago by the removal of the buildings formerly known as the "Great Wardrobe," "z" about sixteen feet of the Roman city wall was found to have been incorporated with it; and so recently as 1904 several excavations were made immediately to the south of it in order to ascertain, if possible, whether any traces of the continuation southwards towards the river of the line of the Roman wall could be found, or any foundations indicating the point at which it turned westwards; but the demolitions and rebuildings upon the site have been so numerous and so frequent that all traces have been obliterated, nor is it probable that any other remains of the Roman wall will ever be laid bare within the Tower area.[28]

A plain outer wall, devoid of towers, faced the river, and some kind of an entrance gateway must have been erected at the south-west angle of the new outer ward, where now stands the Byward Gate, "F." The inner ward was probably entered by a gate, now replaced by the Bloody Tower Gate, "m." A wide and deep ditch was also excavated round the new works, which the Chancellor appears to have expected would be filled by the Thames; but inasmuch as it was not provided with any dams or sluices for retaining the water when the tide was out (a work carried out successfully in a later reign), the chroniclers record with great exultation that this part of Longchamp's work was a comparative failure.[29]

The level of the greater part of the inner ward, "7," is (as will be seen by the figures upon the plan, which represent the heights in feet above the mean sea-level) some fifteen feet above that of the outer ward, and but little below that of Great Tower Hill. It seems probable that much of the clay from the ditch excavated by Longchamp was piled up round the western and northern sides of this inner ward, thus completely burying the base or battering plinth of the keep (now only visible at the south-eastern angle), while at the same time it served as a revetment to the curtain wall, and strengthened the city side of the fortress against any attack.

Whilst these works were in progress, the Chancellor seems to have seized upon some lands of the Priory of the Holy Trinity in East Smithfield, and removed a mill belonging to St. Katherine's Hospital. These illegal usurpations, coupled with his excessive and unscrupulous taxation of clergy and laity alike for the conduct of these new works, seem to have aroused great indignation at the time, and doubtless contributed to his sudden downfall. His high-handed proceedings appear to have formed a ground for claims, not settled until, long years afterwards, a rent, by way of compensation for the land so unjustly taken, was paid by Edward I.

In 3 Richard I. the Pipe Roll records further expenditure upon lime, stone, timber, brushwood, "crates" (a kind of wickerwork hurdle), and stakes or piles for works at the Tower.

In 5 Richard I. there is an outlay upon a "palicium," or palisade, "furnished with mangonels (or stone-casting engines) and other things necessary," "circa turrim Lond," which probably refers to an outwork or barbican covering the western entrance gate, for the expression "turrim" must here be taken in its widest sense as we should now employ it, meaning not merely the keep, but the whole castle.

The total amount expended during the last five years of Richard's reign was only £280 14s. 10d., so that all the extensive new works previously referred to were probably completed before 1194.

Lest it be thought that undue importance has been attached to the extensive use of timber stockades or palisades for the first defensive works at the Tower, it may here be conveniently pointed out that, with but few exceptions, the early castles were of earth and timber only. The keep-towers, as well as the palisades, were of timber, and the constant employment of timber by mediæval military engineers extended into the fourteenth century![30]

The lower bailey of the royal castle at Windsor was not walled with stone until 1227, yet we find it in 1216 successfully resisting for upwards of three months a vigorous siege (aided by projectile engines) by the combined forces of the French and the Barons.[31]

Still later, we find Edward I. erecting a strong temporary castle in timber at Flint[32] in his Welsh war of 1277; and, again, in his Scotch war, building small castles, with keeps and gatehouses, in timber, called "Peels,"[33] at Dumfries, Linlithgow, Lochmaben, Selkirk, and elsewhere in 1300 and subsequent years.

The Pipe Rolls of John show an outlay for the entire reign of some £420 19s. 8½d. on sundry works at the Tower, carried out by Master Elias, the engineer, and Master Robert de Hotot, the master carpenter; but, save for the stereotyped item of repairs to the King's houses, deepening the ditch on the north towards the city, and building a mud or clay wall round the Tower precinct or "liberty" (frequently mentioned in surveys of later date), nothing is named, except the "Church of St. Peter at the Tower," from which, in 1210, we find the King granting to one Osbert, a knight, a gift of ten marks, and a hundred shillings to buy a horse for his journey to Poitou. The Devereux tower, "c," the Bell tower, "a," Wardrobe tower, "s," and Cold Harbour gate, were probably all completed about this time.

We now arrive at the long reign of Henry III., during which the various Rolls are full of detailed information as to alterations, repairs, and new works at the Tower, which, full of interest as they are, considerations of space forbid our quoting in extenso.

In 1221 occurs the first instance of a body of prisoners being sent to the Tower. They were taken at the siege of Bytham Castle, in Lincolnshire, from whence seven men with carts were employed in their transport to London, while sixteen iron rings were made for their safe custody. New barriers in timber were erected, and a well was made, perhaps that at "w," but not probably that now existing in the basement of the keep. A new tower adjoining the hall is built, probably the upper story of the Hall tower, "l," having a roof of lead, and a chapel or oratory, which still exists in this tower, and so helps in its identification.

The Liberate Roll of 23 Henry III. contains directions from the King to the Constable relative to the "whitewashing and painting of the Queen's chamber, within our chamber, with flowers on the pointings, and cause the drain of our private chamber to be made in the fashion of a hollow column, as our beloved servant, John of Ely (probably the King's favourite clerk and famous pluralist, John Mansel), shall more fully declare unto thee."[34]

The chronicler records the fall of a handsome gate, with outworks and bastions, on the night of St. George's Day, April 23rd, 1240, probably from inattention to the foundations. The King, on hearing of it, ordered the fallen structure to be more securely rebuilt. A year later the same thing happened again, which the chronicler states was due to the supernatural interference of St. Thomas à Becket, and that the citizens of London were nothing sorry, for they had been told that a great number of separate cells had been constructed in the fallen towers, to the end that many might be confined in divers prisons, and yet have no communication one with another.[35]

After more than 12,000 marks had been thus fruitlessly expended, the King, in order to propitiate the saint, after ordering the tower to be rebuilt for the third time, and called by his name, also ordered a small oratory to be constructed in its south-east turret. Whether the saint allowed himself to be thus propitiated, or that greater care had been bestowed upon its foundations, this tower, which at first served as the water gate of the fortress, and was known as that of St. Thomas, "I," was in Tudor times used as a landing-place for state prisoners, and thence derived its dismal but better known appellation of "Traitors' Gate."

This tower, though "restored" in 1866, still stands as solidly as when first erected. Its wide interior arch of sixty-one feet span, with joggled arch stones, is a most remarkable piece of work.

The legend may be considered as evidence that about 1239-1241 the King was engaged in constructing all the great works upon the south or river front of the Tower. The Middle Tower gate, "E," the Byward Tower gate, "F," the dam or bridge between them, the before-mentioned water gate, "I," the Lanthorn tower, "k," its new turret, "J," the south postern or Cradle tower, "K," the Well tower, "L," the tower leading to the east postern, "M,"[36] the dam, with its bridge and sluices for the retention of the water in the ditch, and the east postern, "N," were each and all of them works of sufficient importance to be replaced, no matter what the cost, when destroyed by the subsidence of foundations probably insufficient when placed upon a footing of wet and treacherous London clay so near the shifting foreshore of the river. The great quay, or wharf, "Kaia Regis," "O," is first mentioned in 1228. The distinction of having been (albeit unconsciously) the founder of the present Zoological Society might well be claimed for Henry III., as, although Henry I. had a collection of wild beasts at Woodstock Palace,[37] yet in this reign the menagerie at the Tower is first mentioned.

In 1252 a white bear from Norway is recorded as kept at the Tower, and the sheriffs of London are directed to pay 4d. a day for his sustenance and that of his keeper, with a muzzle, and a strong chain to hold him when out of the water, also "unam longam, et fortem cordam ad tenendum eundem ursum piscantem in aquae Thamesis," or, in other words, a long strong cord to hold the said bear when fishing in the water of Thames![38]

Already in 1235 the Emperor Frederick had sent the King three leopards, in allusion to the royal armorial bearings of England.

In 1255 Louis of France presented Henry with an elephant, which was landed at Sandwich, and brought to the Tower,[39] where a house or shed forty feet by twenty feet was built to contain him, again at the expense of the sheriffs of London, on whose Corporation the King seems to have had a playful habit of throwing the expense of these and all other such little matters as he could thus avoid paying for himself.

During the reigns of the three Edwards the collection of wild beasts was largely increased from time to time, and lions were kept in the great Barbican, "C," long known as the Lions' tower, which probably gave rise to the expression, "Seeing the Lions at the Tower."

The menagerie remained there until, in 1834, the various houses were found to impede the restoration of the entrance towers and gates, so they were removed to their present quarters in the Regent's Park; but, most unfortunately, the necessity for the conservation of the Barbican as an important feature of the mediæval fortress was but imperfectly understood, and it was entirely demolished, its ditch filled up, the present unsightly ticket office and engine house being erected on its site.[40]

Besides the towers already named, the outer ward was additionally secured against any attempts at surprise by several cross-walls, "G," with gates, which subdivided it into several independent sections; so that, were any one gate forced, the assailants would only obtain possession of a small courtyard, in which they could be attacked in flank and front, and be overwhelmed by missiles from the curtain walls and towers. All these have long been removed, but their sites will be found marked upon the plan. The two posterns in the north wall of the inner ward against the Devilin and Martin towers, "c" and "g," were not made till 1681.

In spite of all these multiplied means of defence, the Tower was once surprised by a mob in 1381, on which occasion Simon of Sudbury, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Sir Robert Hales, the Treasurer, whom they found in the chapel, were dragged to instant execution by these lawless miscreants, but it is possible that the way was paved by some treachery on the part of those in charge of the gates.

Though subjected to various sieges, the Tower was only once surrendered, after the one in 1460.

In 1263 two posterns were made for the service of the palace. One of these was undoubtedly the Cradle tower, "K"; the other may have been that of the Byward tower, "H," subsequently rebuilt about the time of Richard II.

In 1267 the Papal Legate, Cardinal Ottobon, took refuge in the tower, which was promptly besieged by the Earl of Gloucester. According to the Chronicle of T. Wykes, "the King threw reinforcements into the fortress, and brought out the Legate by the south postern," which can only have been one of the two posterns before mentioned, or that of the Iron Gate tower, "N," which then gave upon the open country without the city walls.

To return to the records. In 1240 the King directed the keepers of the works at the Tower to repair all the glass windows of St. John's Chapel, also those of the great chamber towards the Thames, "J," and to make a great round turret in one corner of the said chamber, so that the drain from it may descend to the Thames, and to make a new cowl on the top of the kitchen of the great tower (the keep?).[41]

In the following year, "the leaden gutters of the keep are to be carried down to the ground, that its newly whitewashed external walls may not be defaced by the dropping of the rain-water; and at the top, on the south side, deep alures of good timber, entirely and well covered with lead, are to be made, through which people may look even unto the foot of the tower, and ascend to better defend it if need be (this evidently refers to a wooden hoarding projecting beyond the stone battlements, and supported on beams and brackets). Three new painted glass windows are to be made for St. John's Chapel, with images of the Virgin and Child, the Trinity, and St. John the Apostle; the cross and beam (rood-beam) beyond the altar are to be painted well, and with good colours, and whitewash all the old wall round our aforesaid tower."[42]

In 1244, Griffin, the eldest son of Llewellyn, Prince of North Wales, was a prisoner in the keep, and was allowed half a mark (6s. 8d.) for his daily sustenance. "Impatient of his tedious imprisonment, he attempted to escape, and having made a cord out of his sheets, tapestries, and tablecloths, endeavoured to lower himself by it; but, less fortunate than Flambard, when he had descended but a little, the rope snapped from the weight of his body (for he was a big man, and very corpulent), he fell, and was instantly killed, his corpse being found next morning at the base of the keep, with his head and neck driven in between his shoulders from the violence of the impact, a horrible and lamentable spectacle," as the chronicler feelingly expresses it.[43]

In 1237 there is a curious reference to a small cell or hermitage, apparently situated upon the north side of St. Peter's Chapel, near the place marked "q." It was inhabited by an "inclusus," or immured anchorite, who daily received one penny by the charity of the King. A robe also appears to have been occasionally presented to the inmate. It was in the King's gift, and seems, from subsequent references in the records, to have been bestowed upon either sex indifferently, unless there were two cells, for the record mentions it in one place as the "reclusory" or "ankerhold" of St. Peter, and in another as that of St. Eustace.[44]

The Liber Albus also mentions, in the time of Edward III., a grant of the "Hermitage near the garden of our Lord the King upon Tower Hill."[45] This last was probably near the orchard of "perie," or pear trees, first planted by Henry III. on Great Tower Hill, doubtless in what were known as the "Nine gardens in the Tower Liberty," adjoining the postern in the city wall.

In 1250, the King directs his chamber in the Lanthorn tower, "k," to be adorned with a painting of the story of Antioch[46] and the combat of King Richard.

From the time of John, the Tower seems to have been used as an arsenal, suits of armour, siege engines, and iron fetters being kept there; and in 1213 we find John drawing from the stores in the fortress thirty "dolia" or casks of wine, and also giving orders that "bacones nostros qui sunt apud turrim" should be killed and salted, so that pig-styes and wine cellars then formed part of its domestic buildings.

In 1225 the manufacture of crossbows was carried on. The "Balistarius," or master bowyer (who perhaps gave his name to the Bowyer tower, "e," in the basement of which he had his workshop), had twelve pence a day, with a suit of clothes and three servants (probably assistant workmen). Other officials were appointed to provide and keep in store armour, arrows, and projectile engines.[47]

With the accession of Edward I., the long list of works at the Tower practically comes to an end.

In 1274 there is a payment of two hundred marks for the completion of the great barbican, with its ditch, commenced by Henry III., afterwards known as the Lions' tower, "C," which probably included the outer gate at "B," called the Lions' Gate.

The chapel of St. Peter was rebuilt about 1305, St. Thomas' tower, "I," was finished, and connected by a flying bridge with the upper story of the Hall tower, "l." This, though subsequently destroyed, was restored by Mr. Salvin in 1867, at which time, the new Record Office in Fetter Lane being completed, the State papers formerly kept in the Hall tower, and elsewhere in the Tower, were removed thither. The basement of the Hall tower was vaulted, and its upper story fitted up for the reception of the regalia. The Crown jewels were removed from the Martin or Jewel tower, "g," where they were formerly kept, which was the scene of the notorious Colonel Blood's attempt to steal the crown in 1673. The keeper of the regalia now resides in the upper part of St. Thomas' tower, above Traitors' Gate, and has thus ready access at all times to his important charge.

In 1289 the great ditch was again enlarged, and in 1291 occurs the entry already mentioned of the annual payment of five marks as compensation to the "Master, Brethren, and Sisters of St. Katherine's Hospital, near our Tower, for the damage they have sustained by the enlargement of the ditch that we caused to be made round the aforesaid Tower."[48]

It is probable that towards the close of this reign vaultings of stone replaced wooden floors in several of the towers, and other improvements were made in them. The clay from the ditch was sold by the Constable to the tile-makers of East Smithfield. In the first year it only yielded 20s., but during the twelve years the work was in progress it contributed £7 on the average every year to the exchequer, a large sum when the relative value of money is considered, and equal to more than £100 a year of the present currency![49]

In 1278 no less than 600 Jews were imprisoned in the Tower on a charge of clipping and debasing the coin. Many of them are said to have been confined in that gloomy vault now called "Little Ease," where, from the entire absence of sanitary accommodation and proper ventilation, their numbers were rapidly thinned by death.[50]

The Tower of London.

The mural arcade of the inner curtain wall between the Bell tower, "a," the Beauchamp tower, "b," and the Devereux tower, "c," is probably of this period. In spite of much patching and alterations to adapt it for the use of firearms, it bears a close resemblance in its design to those of Caernarvon Castle and Castle Coch, near Cardiff. The great quay, "O," does not appear to have been walled through; it had its own gates, "P," at either end. Two small towers (now removed) protected the drawbridges of the two posterns, "H" and "K." The outer curtain wall, "R," commanded the ditch and wharf, and was in its turn commanded by the more lofty inner curtain, "8," and its towers, and these again by the keep, while the narrow limits of the outer ward effectually prevented any attempts to escalade them by setting up movable towers, or by breaching them with battering rams. Any besiegers who succeeded in entering the outer ward would be overwhelmed by the archery from these wall arcades at such point-blank range that even plate armour would be no protection, while, should they succeed in carrying the inner ward, the remnant of the defenders might retreat to the keep, and, relying upon its passive strength, hold out to the last within its massive walls in hope of external succour, before famine or a breach compelled a surrender.

The Scotch wars of Edward I. filled the Tower with many distinguished prisoners, among whom were the Earls of Ross, Athol, and Menteith, and the famous Sir William Wallace. They seem to have experienced a varying degree of severity: some were ordered to be kept in a "strait prison in iron fetters," as were the Bishops of Glasgow and St. Andrew's (though they were imprisoned elsewhere); others are to be kept "body for body," that is to say, safely, but not in irons, with permission to hear mass; while a few are to be treated with leniency, and have chambers, with a privy chamber or latrine attached.[51]

In 1303 the King (then at Linlithgow) sent the Abbot of Westminster and forty-eight of his monks to the Tower on a charge of having stolen £100,000 of the royal treasure placed in the abbey treasury for safe-keeping! After a long trial, the sub-prior and the sacrist were convicted and executed, when their bodies were flayed and the skins nailed to the doors of the re-vestry and treasury of the abbey as a solemn warning to other such evildoers,[52] the abbot and the rest of the monks being acquitted.

No works of any importance can be assigned to the reign of Edward II., the only occurrences of importance being the downfall of the Knights Templars and the imprisonment of many of them at the Tower, where the Grand Prior, William de la More, expired in solitary confinement a few months after the close of the proceedings that marked the suppression of the order; and the escape of Roger Mortimer from the keep (which reads almost like a repetition of Flambard's), the consequences to the constable being his disgrace and imprisonment.[53]

The Tower was the principal arsenal of Edward III., who in 1347 had a manufactory of gunpowder there, when various entries in the Records mention purchases of sulphur and saltpetre "pro gunnis Regis."[54]

A survey of the Tower was ordered in 1336, and the Return to it is printed in extenso by Bayley.[55] Some of the towers are called by names (as for example, "Corande's" and "la Moneye" towers, the latter perhaps an early reference to the Mint) which no longer distinguish them. The Return shows that these—the Iron gate tower, "N," the two posterns of the wharf, and Petty Wales, "P.P.," the wharf itself, and divers other buildings—were all in need of repair, the total amount for the requisite masonry, timber, tile work, lead, glass, and iron work being £2,154 17s. 8d.!

In 1354 the city ditch is ordered to be cleansed and prevented from flowing into the Tower ditch, and, according to the Liber Albus, the penalty of death was promulgated against anyone bathing in the Tower ditch, or even in the Thames adjacent to the Tower!

In 1347 the Tower received, in the person of David, King of Scotland, the first of a long line of royal prisoners, and in 1358 the large sum of £2 12s. 9d. was paid for his medicine. John, King of France, Richard II., Henry VI., Edward V., Queens Jane Dudley, Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, and Princess Elizabeth complete the list.

The Great Wardrobe, "z," adjoining the Wardrobe tower, "s," the Beauchamp tower, "b," the upper story of the Bowyer tower, "e," and perhaps the Constable and Broad Arrow towers, "h" and "i," are probably of this period.

Mr. Clark attributes the Bloody Tower gate, "m," to this reign, but an entrance existed there long before. Most probably it was remodelled, and the vaulting and portcullis were inserted about this time, or early in the reign of Richard II., to whom he also attributes the rebuilding of the Byward tower postern, "H."

There is but little to record in the way of new works after this. Edward IV., in 1472, built an advanced work, called the Bulwark Gate, "A," and nothing further transpires till the reign of Henry VIII., who ordered a survey of the dilapidations to be made in 1532. The repairs of this period, being mostly in brickwork and rough cast, with flint chips inserted in the joints of the masonry, are easily recognised, as are those of Wren by his use of Portland stone.

The buildings of the old palace being much out of repair, the quaint old timber-framed dwelling, "n," adjoining the Bell tower, "a," was built about this time. It is now called the "Lieutenant's Lodgings," but was first known as the "King's House." It contains a curious monument commemorating the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, of which it gives an account, and enumerates the names of the conspirators, and of the Commissioners by whom they were tried.

The quaint storehouses of the Tudor period were replaced in the reign of William III. by an unsightly building, destroyed by fire in 1841, the site of which is now occupied by the Wellington barracks.

The old palace buildings have long since vanished entirely. Towers have been rebuilt or restored, and in 1899 a new guard house has been built between Wakefield tower, "l," and the south-west angle of the keep. The hideously ugly effect of its staring new red brick in contrast with the old and time-worn stone of the ancient fortress must be seen to be realized, its sole redeeming feature being the impossibility of future generations mistaking it for a building of any earlier period. During the clearance of the site for its erection, two discoveries were made—one of a Norman well, "w," which was found to have its top completely hidden by modern brickwork; the other, a remarkable subterranean passage, "9," of which the presence was only detected by its being accidentally broken into. This, when cleared out, was found to terminate in a horrible subterranean prison pit under the south-west angle of the keep (with which, however, it has no means of communication), that doubtless served as the oubliette of the Tower. The pit was empty, but the passage was found to contain bones, fragments of glass and pottery, broken weapons, and many cannon balls of iron, lead, and stone, relics probably of Wyatt's unsuccessful attack in 1554. Leaving the pit, the passage dips rapidly, and, tunnelling under both wards and their walls, emerges a little to the east of Traitors' Gate (see [plan]), where its arched head may now be seen from the wharf, though formerly several feet below the level of the water in the moat. As it traverses the site of the Hall, there is some reason to suppose that the lower end served as a sewer, for there was a similar one, dating from 1259, at the old Palace of Westminster, so that this may likewise be attributed to Henry III.[56]

It will be seen that the blood-curdling description of the horrors of the rat-pit in Harrison Ainsworth's immortal romance is by no means devoid of some foundation of fact, though when he wrote its existence was unknown. Rats from the river would be attracted to the sewer mouth by the garbage from the palace kitchens, and if any wretched prisoner had been placed in this dreadful dungeon he would speedily have been devoured alive![57]

The presence of a single subterranean passage at the Tower ought not to have aroused so much surprise, for such "souterrains" were a not infrequent feature of the mediæval fortress. They may be found at Arques, Chateau Gaillard, Dover, Winchester, and Windsor (three), while Nottingham has its historic "Mortimer's Hole." Sometimes they led to carefully masked posterns in the ditches, but they were generally carried along and at the base of the interior faces of the curtain walls, with the object of preventing attempts at undermining, at once betrayed to listeners by the dull reverberations of pickaxes in the rocky ground. There were doubtless others at the Tower, now blocked up and forgotten; indeed, Bayley mentions something of the kind as existing between the Devereux and Flint towers.[58]

There is an allusion to them in the narrative by Father Gerard, S.J., of his arrest, torture in, and escape from the Tower in 1597;[59] but the history of the many illustrious captives who have suffered within these walls would in itself suffice for a large volume, while so much, and from so many pens, has already been written thereon, that I have contented myself with few allusions thereto, and those necessarily of the briefest.

It is much to be regretted that military exigencies have rendered it needful to remove from the walls of the various prison cells many interesting inscriptions with which their inmates strove to beguile the monotony of captivity, and as far as possible to concentrate them in the upper room within the Beauchamp tower, with which many of them have no historic association whatever; but as the public would otherwise have been debarred from any sight of them, this is far from being the unmixed evil it might otherwise appear, while they have been fully illustrated and carefully described by Bayley.

About the time of Edward I. a Mint was first established in the western and northern portions of the outer bailey, where it remained until, in 1811, it was removed to the New Mint in East Smithfield, and the name "Mint Street," given to that portion of the bailey, now commemorates this circumstance.

When, about 1882, the extension of the "Inner Circle" Railway was in progress, the site of the permanent scaffold on Great Tower Hill, upon which so many sanguinary executions took place, was discovered in Trinity Square, remains of its stout oak posts being found imbedded in the ground. A blank space, with a small tablet in the grass of the Square garden, now marks the spot.

In a recent work upon the Tower, an amazing theory has been seriously put forward "of State barges entering the ditch, rowing onto a kind of submerged slipway at the Cradle tower, when, mirabile dictu, boat and all were to be lifted out of the water and drawn into the fortress!" Such things are only possible in the vivid imagination of a writer devoid of the most elementary knowledge of the purpose for which this gateway was designed. It suffices to point out that no long State barge could have entered the ditch without first performing the impossible feat of sharply turning two corners at right angles in a space less than its own length, and too confined to allow oars to be used, while there are no recorded instances of such mediæval equivalents of the modern floating and depositing dock! The Cradle tower gate is too short and narrow to admit any such a lift with a large boat upon it, nor does it contain the slightest trace of anything of the kind, or of the machinery necessary for its working. Although prior to the restoration in 1867 there were side openings to Traitors' Gate as well as that from the river, not only were they too low and narrow to admit a boat, but they were fitted with sluice gates for the retention of the water in the moat when the tide was out, which were used until, in 1841, the moat itself was drained and levelled, and the Thames excluded by a permanent dam. The Cradle tower was, as already stated, a postern, leading from the wharf to the Royal Palace, and derived its name from its cradle or drawbridge that here spanned the waters of the moat.

When, in the time of Henry VIII. and his successors, the water gate, "I," ceased to be a general entrance, and was only used as a landing-place for State prisoners on their way to and from trial at Westminster, it first received the less pleasing appellation it still bears of "Traitors' Gate."

The procedure when the Queen or any distinguished person visited the Tower by water was as follows: They alighted from the State barge at the Queen's stairs, "Q," on the river face of the quay, "O," and traversing this on foot or in a litter, entered the Tower by the Cradle tower postern, "K," which afforded the readiest and most direct access to the Palace in the inner ward, while it was entirely devoid of any sinister associations.

In conclusion, it only remains for me to express my thanks to the Major of the Tower, Lieutenant-General Sir George Bryan Milman, K.C.B., for the permission so courteously accorded to visit and examine portions of the fortress closed to the general public, and to the officials of the Tower for facilities kindly afforded me to do so on several occasions.

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ST. BARTHOLOMEW THE GREAT, SMITHFIELD
By J. Tavenor-Perry

Anyone now visiting the Church of St. Bartholomew the Great, after a lapse of fifty years, would scarcely recognize in the present stately building the woe-begone and neglected place of his recollections. In the apse and the transepts, in the lofty screen to the west of the stalls, suggesting a hidden nave beyond, and in the glimpses of the Lady Chapel across the eastern ambulatory, he would see the completed choir of some collegiate church, of which the principal architectural features suggested an ancient foundation. It is true that, in the church of fifty years ago, the Norman details were still very distinct, though the round arches of the arcades had been parodied by the Georgian windows of the east end, and by the plastered romanesque reredos; but gloom and darkness overspread the whole place, encroachments of the most incongruous kinds had invaded the most sacred portions, and to the casual observer it seemed impossible that the church could ever be rescued from the ruin with which it was threatened, or reclaimed from the squalor by which it was surrounded.

To understand the difficulties which lay before the restorers, who, in 1863, commenced the task of saving the building from annihilation, and to properly appreciate what they have achieved, as well as what they only aimed at accomplishing, it is necessary to give some account of the state of the fabric in that year, and, without repeating at undue length the oft-told tale of its foundation, to give a history of the church during the eight hundred years of its existence.

The founder, both of the priory and of the hospital, was one Rahere, of whom but little is certainly known. Some assume that he was that same Rahere who assisted Hereward in his stand against the Norman invaders of the Cambridgeshire fens, but if so, this did not prevent him, later on, from attaching himself to the court of the Conqueror's son. He is generally described as having been jester to Henry I., and it has been assumed that the nature of his engagement involved a course of life calling for repentance and a pilgrimage. But whatever the reason may have been, he apparently went to Rome in 1120, though the journey at that particular juncture was a very unsafe proceeding. He may, perhaps, have joined himself to the train of Pope Calixtus II., who had just been elected at Cluny, in succession to the fugitive Gelasius II., and who made his journey to Rome in the spring of that year. If so, he arrived in Rome at the very worst season, and like many others who visit the city in the summer, he contracted the usual fever. During his illness, or after his recovery, St. Bartholomew appeared to him in a vision, and directed him, on his return to London, to found a church in his honour, outside the walls, at a place called Smithfield. Although visions and their causes are not always explicable, the association of St. Bartholomew with this dream of Rahere's may, perhaps, be accounted for. The church of S. Bartolommeo all'Isola had been built, a century before Rahere's visit, within the ruined walls of the Temple of Æsculapius, on the island of the Tiber, and Saint had succeeded, in some measure, to the traditional healing-power of the God. In classic times, those who flocked to the shrine generally stayed there for one or two nights, when the healer appeared to them in a vision, and gave them directions for their cure. So, in mediæval times, his successor and supplanter followed the same course, but provided cures for the soul rather than for the body.

Rahere can have lost but little time in hastening home and obtaining from the King a grant of the prescribed land, for we find that within three years of his visit to Rome the church of his new convent was sufficiently advanced for consecration, and presumably the convent itself was ready for occupation. The new priory was designed for the reception of Canons Regular of the Order of St. Augustine, and the reason for the founder's adoption of this Order, apart from the fact that it was somewhat fashionable at this period, may have been partly because his former occupation had particularly fitted him for public speaking, and partly because two, at least, of the men with whom he had been closely associated at Henry's court were themselves members of this order. And it is necessary to bear these facts in mind in considering the never-to-be-determined question of whether the apse of St. Bartholomew's was ever completed by Rahere.

These two friends of the founder's were Richard de Belmeis, Bishop of London, and William de Corbeil, or Corboyle, Archbishop of Canterbury, and they were not only themselves Austin Canons, but were actively engaged in spreading the influence of that order. The Bishop had then recently built the Priory of St. Osyth, in Essex, of which the Archbishop, who had previously been connected with the Priory of Merton, had been the first prior. Moreover, Corbeil, soon after he had received the pallium, obtained permission to suppress the monastery of St. Martin-le-Grand—for monasteries were suppressed in the reign of the first Henry, as well as in the reign of the last—and devote its revenues to building a new priory for Austin Canons, outside the walls of Dover. This priory, known as St. Martin New-work, of which considerable portions remain to this day, presents what may be regarded as a model plan of a church of this order, and consisted of a small square-ended choir, shallow transepts, and a large nave with aisles. From this it is evident that Rahere's building differed most essentially from the recognized type, and the question is, did his friends point out to him his deviation from the almost invariable rule of the Austin Canons to give their churches a square east end in time to enable him to modify his design, or were they able to induce him, after he had completed his apse, to remove the two easternmost piers, and to insert in place of them a square-ended chapel? But to this question no answer has ever been discovered.

Fig. 1—Norman Capital.
Discovered in 1863.

Fig. 2—Priory Gate and Church Tower in 1863.

Fig. 3—Transitional Capital.
Discovered in 1863.

At the death of Rahere, in 1143, but a small part of his great scheme had been achieved, of the existing church perhaps no more than the choir to the top of the triforium and the choir aisles; but judging from fragments discovered from time to time, such as the capital to a nook shaft shown in [fig. 1], which clearly belong to this period, he had completed other works which have now been destroyed. Perhaps during his life-time the conventual buildings, as was the case at Merton, were mainly of wood, and of a merely temporary character; but it may be assumed that these, together with the cloisters, had been built when the great arch, which formed the entrance to the priory (shown in [fig. 2]), was completed about the middle of the thirteenth century. The work to the choir and transepts went on gradually, no doubt, without any alteration of design, or only such modifications in the details as resulted from the changes in progress in the style, until their completion, and it is likely that the end of the twelfth century saw the conclusion of that section of the work. The fragment given in [fig. 3] is a fair example of this transitional style. In the building of the nave, which was a very important part of the church with the Austin Canons, who sought by their preaching to attract large congregations, some fresh departure in the design was made. Evidence of this can be seen in the east bay of the south side ([fig. 4]), where an Early English clustered-shaft, with the springing of some groining, standing clear of the older Norman pier, gives an idea of the character of the work of the now destroyed nave. With this building, which was apparently achieved before the close of the thirteenth century, we may regard the priory as finished, having taken over a hundred and fifty years to accomplish.

After a lapse of two hundred years, it is not unlikely that the building had fallen somewhat into a state of dilapidation and for that reason, as well, perhaps, from a desire for improvement and display, large works of alteration and rebuilding were undertaken at the beginning of the fifteenth century. Prior John Walford, of whom little is known, except that he was summoned to a convocation at Oxford in 1407, is credited with the work, which embraced the new east wall to the choir, and perhaps a reredos, the Lady Chapel and chapels, on the north side of the north ambulatory, and the rebuilding of the east walk of the cloisters with rooms above. But although Prior John may have been the agent for carrying out all these works, the initiative was probably due to Roger de Walden, afterwards Bishop of London. This man, who had a most remarkable career, was in some way closely associated with St. Bartholomew's, for his stepmother resided in its vicinity, and he had a brother John, a man of considerable wealth, who is described as an esquire of St. Bartholomew, Smithfield. During the reign of Richard II., Roger de Walden held high and lucrative ecclesiastical appointments, and in 1395 became Dean of York and Treasurer of England, and when Archbishop Arundel was banished from the realm in 1397 for his share in the conspiracy of his brother, Roger was advanced to the See of Canterbury. After the downfall of Richard, Arundel returned to England, and Roger was ousted from his seat; but strange though it may appear, the Archbishop bore him so little ill-will for his usurpation that he induced Henry IV., though with some difficulty, to agree to his nomination to the Bishopric of London at the next voidance of the See. As Bishop of London, he died in 1406, and though he lay in state in his chantry chapel at St. Bartholomew's, it is believed that he was actually buried in St. Paul's Cathedral.

Fig. 4—East Bay of South Aisle of Nave.

It was during his years of prosperity, and before he had anticipated the honours to which he afterwards succeeded, that he built his chantry chapel in the church with which his early youth was doubtless associated, and tradition, to some extent supported by both architectural and heraldic evidence, has identified the screen in which Rahere's monument is encased as a portion of that chapel. The beautiful canopies and tracery, the character of the carving of the effigy and its attendant figures, and the arms of England emblazoned on one of the shields, all point to a date supporting the tradition, whilst the arms, which seem undoubtedly to be Walden's, displayed on the fourth shield make it improbable that the work can be assigned to any other person.

Of the building carried out at this time, except the screen of the chantry chapel and some portions of the restored cloister, but little remains, and all the evidences which might have enabled us to determine how far the east wall was a restoration, or an entirely new work, were swept away when the apse was rebuilt. That this east wall was not merely a reredos is shown by the fact that the upper part rose clear of the aisles, and was pierced by two large traceried windows in the same position as the Georgian windows which lighted the church in the last century, and it is quite possible that it was only a restoration of an earlier wall, which had been built across the apse so as to make it conform to the Austin Canon rule. The screen of the chantry chapel, the two eastern bays of which have been destroyed, but which is shown complete in our illustration ([fig. 5]), may have been continued across the east wall, and formed the reredos itself, but all traces of this were effaced in subsequent alterations.

Fig. 5—Screen of Roger de Walden's Chantry, and Rahere's Monument.

One alteration was made in the choir which very much affected the proportions of the building between the date of its first building and the erection of Rahere's monument. Perhaps because the ground outside the church had become raised by the building operations, which had gone on around it, and the drainage of the interior had become defective, or for some other reason, the floor over all the eastern part was filled in for a depth of nearly three feet, dwarfing considerably the Norman arcades, and burying the bases of the columns; and it was upon this altered level the screen of Bishop Roger de Walden's chantry was built.

Having undergone such extensive repairs the priory received no further alterations until, after another hundred years, William Bolton became prior in 1506. It has been asserted, on what seem very insufficient grounds, that Bolton was the architect of Henry VII.'s Chapel at Westminster; but although this is very improbable, he was associated with those who were engaged on the work, and seems himself to have been disposed to architectural display. He has been credited with very large alterations to the conventual buildings, and the erection of a tower over the crossing; but nearly all traces of his work have disappeared, except a doorway in the south aisle, and the beautiful window in the triforium, overlooking the choir, which is always, known as "Prior Bolton's window," and is distinguished by his rebus, a bolt in a tun, in the centre lower panel, as is shown in the illustration ([fig. 6]).

Bolton's successor, Robert Fuller, was the last of the priors, and with him is ushered in the era of dissolution and decay, when—

"The ire of a despotic King
Rides forth upon destruction's wing."

The priory was suppressed, and the great nave was deliberately pulled down. But, except that so much of the cloister as adjoined the nave was destroyed with it, no further demolitions took place at that time, and it was only gradually that the conventual buildings, some of which lasted to our own day, were removed. The choir and transepts were preserved to form a parish church, and the area of the destroyed nave became the churchyard. The rest of the buildings were sold by the King to Sir Richard Rich, for the sum of £1,064 11s. 3d., not a large sum considering the area of the site and the extent of the buildings, which included, among others, the prior's lodgings, styled "the Mansion," which had housed so great a man as Prior Bolton.

Fig. 6—Prior Bolton's Window.

In Queen Mary's reign the Church resumed possession of the conventual buildings, and they were occupied by the Black Friars, who, it is said, made some attempt to rebuild the nave; but beyond some slight works to be seen in the east cloister, they left no traces of their occupation behind, the sole relic remaining of them being the seal of their head, Father Perryn, the matrix of which has already come into the possession of the church authorities.

With the death of Mary the friars retired, and the choir became, once more, the parish church, and for the next century neglect and decay continued the ruin of the fabric. But with the advent of Laud to the See of London, some attempts were made at reparation. It is said that the steeple had become so ruinous that it had to be taken down, and in 1628 the present brick tower, which stands over what was the easternmost bay of the south aisle of the nave, was erected. Where the ruined steeple stood is not clear, but most probably over the crossing, and as towers were unimportant features in the churches of the Austin Canons, it is likely that it rose but little above the roofs. Another and remarkable erection of this period was the charnel-house at the east end, known as "Purgatory," which was constructed with some attempt to give it a Gothic appearance, and was attached to the reredos wall. This is shown in [fig. 7], which illustrates the eastern ambulatory, as it existed before the restoration.

Fig. 7—Eastern Ambulatory and Purgatory before Restoration.

During the great Georgian period considerable work was done to the church, not without some attempt at architectural improvements, unappreciated, however, at a later date. The choir appears to have been re-roofed, the old timbers being partly re-used, but shortened by cutting off the rotten ends, with the result that the pitch of the roof was considerably lowered. To this or to their own decay may be due the destruction of the two great traceried windows at the east end, which were replaced by two wide semi-circular headed windows, which their designers, perhaps, fondly imagined to accord better with the Norman arcades below. Whether the reredos screen had already been destroyed or defaced is uncertain, or whether, as at Southwark, they were content with hacking off the projecting canopies cannot now be determined, but in place of it was erected a vast wooden structure, picturesque from its very ugliness, more suited to the classic taste of the Georgian era. At this time, no doubt, the church was re-pewed, and the great pulpit, with its sounding-board, set up on the north side of the choir.

Among the conventual buildings which had survived to this time, and remained in occupation, was the chapter house, which, with nearly all traces of its antiquity destroyed, and with a gallery erected across its west end, had been converted into a meeting-house for dissenters, the old slype having been made into a vestry. The access to it appears to have been the ancient one through the east cloister, which was also standing perfect at that time. It does not appear to have belonged to any particular sect, but was always known as St. Bartholomew's Chapel, and among those who preached in it was John Wesley, who also occasionally preached and celebrated weddings in the church itself.

In 1830 occurred a great fire, which destroyed this chapel, together with all the upper part of the east cloister, and the greater part of the south transept. Whether the great dormitory, which extended southwards from the transepts, or any part of it, had been left standing seems uncertain, but if so, this fire must have destroyed it. The fine undercroft of the dormitory, which consisted of two vaulted aisles of the Transitional period, remained perfect, and was standing as recently as 1870, when it was ruthlessly, and, apparently, unnecessarily, destroyed to make room for some parochial offices.

Shortly before this fire happened, some small, and not very fortunate, attempt at a restoration was made within the church, which resulted in more loss than gain, as it entailed the complete destruction of any remains of the ancient altar-screen which might have survived the previous alterations. The Georgian reredos which had taken its place was removed, and the east wall was plastered over and ornamented with a blank arcade in cement, which its architect doubtless thought agreed with the Norman features of the church. The Georgian pulpit was removed, and a symmetrical arrangement of two was substituted, recalling the Gospel and Epistle ambones of an ancient Italian church, but lacking their beauty.

Thus, after the vicissitudes of over seven hundred years, the church was reduced to the appearance shown in our illustration ([fig. 8]), when its restoration was seriously taken in hand in 1863.

Fig. 8—Interior of Church in 1863.

The task which the restorers then set themselves to accomplish, and in which they have been eminently successful, seemed at the time well-nigh hopeless. All the conventual buildings, and everything outside the actual walls of the church had been alienated, and, to a great extent, destroyed, and of the church itself but a battered torso remained. The nave had been destroyed at the Dissolution, and its site had become the parish churchyard; the south transept had perished in the fire of 1830, and its unroofed area had also become a burying-ground; whilst the north transept had been gradually encroached upon, no one knew how, and a large part of it was then used as a forge. The desecration of the east end was almost worse. The great Lady Chapel, which had been rebuilt in the fourteenth century, and which had formed part of the assignment to Sir Richard Rich, had been for long employed for trade purposes, being at one time the printing shop in which Benjamin Franklin had worked, and was, in 1863, a factory for fringe. This factory had gradually extended, on the upper floor, over the eastern ambulatory, up to the back of the reredos wall and over the south aisle, so that it was lighted, in part, through Prior Bolton's window from the church itself. This encroachment over the ambulatory shows well in the illustration ([fig. 7]). The north triforium was the parish school, which, with its noises, interfered with the services of the church, and, with the roughness of its occupants, endangered the safety of the groining below, and of the north wall which then leaned dangerously from the upright. The whole area of the church, which had been raised in the fifteenth century, was filled with graves, many of which were dug below the very foundations of the piers; moisture oozed over the grave-stones and darkness overspread the walls, so that it struck a chill into all who entered it. It was a by-word and a desolation.

In draining the area of the church, in rebuilding the decayed piers, and in bringing up the north wall to the perpendicular, the restorers effected great and substantial improvements, but in lowering the floor to its original Norman level, and in rebuilding the apse as they believed it was first planned, they embarked on extensive operations which were by some regarded not only as unessential, but as going beyond legitimate restoration; in fact, as was pointed out by more than one, it was not unlike an attempt to restore the nave of Winchester Cathedral by clearing out first all the work of William of Wykeham. There was much to be said in favour of lowering the floor, but the building of the apse was open to considerable question, and there is but little doubt that had the restorers commenced the destruction of the east wall at the top, instead of at the bottom, and so discovered the ruins of the great traceried windows, they would have paused in their scheme; but the position of the fringe factory prevented this, and it was only many years after the ambulatory arcade of the apse had been completed that this discovery was made. The question of whether there ought to have been an apse according to Austin Canon rule was not properly considered, but when it was found, after the walls of Purgatory had been removed, that there were no traces of any foundations to the missing central piers, some doubt as to the correctness of the course they were following was necessarily suggested. It was then, however, thought to be too late to alter the plans, the most important part of the east wall having then been destroyed, and the result is that we now have a Norman apse of uncertain authority, crowned with a lofty traceried clerestory, which, though a clever architectural composition, is only a modern makeshift. In place of this, had the fifteenth century east wall been preserved, we should have had in the upper part the two great windows, much of the tracery of which still remains, and beneath them the reredos might have been renewed. In this case the eastern portion of Roger de Walden's screen, with its doorway, would have been saved, and Sir Walter Mildmay's picturesque monument been left intact, making altogether a more beautiful sacrarium, and a much more truthful representation of what had once been, than the doubtful restoration of the rude Norman apse.

In succeeding years the work of restoration went on slowly, but much was achieved. The great schemes of the earlier restorers were wisely reviewed, and reasonable limitations acknowledged. All idea of rebuilding the nave was abandoned, and the rude brick wall which had been built to the west end of the choir was refaced in a seemly but permanent manner. The south transept was rebuilt over a portion only of its former area, and, with the north transept, finished in an appropriate manner which does not pretend to be a literal restoration. In the Lady Chapel, when it was rescued from the fringe factory, much of the old work in the windows was found intact, and a complete restoration had been possible. The continuous work of the last forty years has been crowned with success, and, although portions are evidently modern in design and execution, the choir of St. Bartholomew's Priory Church has been preserved for future generations as an example of the earliest and most important ecclesiastical buildings of London.

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THE LONDON CHARTERHOUSE
By the Rev. A. G. B. Atkinson, M.A.

Of the religious houses of which remains may be found in London, none perhaps is of greater interest than the Charterhouse. Here More and Colet kept retreat, and as a peaceful haven for pensioned age the place still retains something of its old monastic calm. Lying behind the markets of Smithfield, its secluded courts and gardens are barely penetrated by the roar of the great city. The history of Bruno, the original founder of the Carthusian order, and his six companions has often been told. It is related by Prior Guigo that the University of Paris, professors as well as scholars, were assembled at the funeral obsequies of one of the most learned and pious of their number. To the amazement of all, the dead man raised his head, and as he sank back again on the bier called out with a loud voice, "I have been accused at the just tribunal of God." Three times on three successive days this terrible occurrence took place. Amongst those present on this occasion who were struck with horror at the unexpected sentence of damnation was Bruno, a native of Cologne. He was a Canon of Rheims and professor of divinity. Five others with him, seized with a holy fear, consulted a hermit how they might escape the judgment of God. To them he gave the answer of the Psalmist, "Lo, I have prolonged my flight and remained in solitude." They, too, were fired with the love of solitude, and begged of Hugh Bishop of Grenoble that he would assign them a place suitable for a retreat. This the bishop did, and the order was established at La Chartreuse in the mountains of Savoy in the year 1084.[60]

The Charterhouse Hospital.
From an old print by Toms.

The first Carthusian house in England was founded by Henry II. at Witham, in Somersetshire, about the year 1178, in fulfilment of his penitential vow taken at the tomb of Thomas Becket. Another house was founded at Hinton, also in Somersetshire, in 1227. An attempt to found a house in Ireland did not succeed, the institution only lasting forty years. A third house was founded at Beauvale, in Nottinghamshire, in 1343. The London Charterhouse, with which we are immediately concerned, was the fourth house of the order established in England. Before entering upon the details of its history it will be well to sketch the main features of the Carthusian order, since Carthusian houses in all their chief characteristics closely resemble one another. Its distinguishing marks are extreme severity and entire seclusion from the world. The fathers live alone, each in his cell built around the great cloister. The cell is, however, in reality a small house, and contains four rooms, two on each floor; adjoining these apartments is a small garden. From the great cloister strangers are entirely excluded, and the cell is never entered except by the father himself, the prior, or his deputy.

A walk, the "spatiamentum," taken once a week together, is the only occasion upon which the fathers leave the house; conversation is then enjoined. Upon Sundays and Chapter feasts the monks dine together, when some instructive book is read aloud by one of the fathers.

The Franciscans and Dominicans are preachers, the Benedictines maintain educational institutions, Trappists and Cistercians cultivate the soil; but the isolation of the Carthusian fathers is complete. They may not even leave the monastery to administer the Sacrament to the dying, unless assured that no other priest can be secured.

Their food is thrust into their cells through a small hatchway. They eat no meat, but fish, eggs, milk, cheese, butter, bread, pastry, fruit, and vegetables. The brethren or "conversi," who are laymen, occupy themselves with the manual labour of the monastery, but all that is necessary in the cell is done by the father himself. When death ends the solitary's life he is buried uncoffined in the cloister garth, "O beata solitudo! O sola beatitudo!"[61]

The history of the London Charterhouse may conveniently be divided into three periods—I., the Monastery; II., the Palace; III., the Hospital.