From the North Foreland to Penzance

by Clive Holland

The date of the foundation of the hospital is not certain, but it is popularly thought to have been sometime during the reign of Henry III. In the year 1332 Edward III confirmed the various grants which had been made in connexion with it, but two years later conveyed it at his queen’s instigation to the then recently founded College of Queen’s Hall, Oxford, which still holds the patronage. The ancient house buildings have now passed away, and their place has been taken by others more in keeping with modern ideas as to convenience and sanitation.

The chapel, as we have already stated, happily survives. In the reign of Elizabeth, and possibly even before that time, it was given as a place of worship for the refugees who had fled from Catholic persecution and Spanish tyranny in the Netherlands. But in the reign of Charles II complaints having been made that English Nonconformists used the place as a refuge against the harsh laws which then pressed so heavily upon them, and a complaint also having been lodged by residents in the Channel Islands that their fellow countrymen were prejudiced against the English Liturgy by the Nonconformists attending the chapel, it was ordered that in future the Liturgy and service should be conducted in the French language as at the chapel of the Savoy in London; and the service is so performed down to the present day.

The East Gate of the town as long ago as 1773 proved so great an obstruction to commerce and traffic that it was pulled down. It was not of any great historical, architectural, or antiquarian interest, and had probably been at various times “tinkered” so that little of its original features, or even materials, remained at the time of its demolition.

Southampton’s most notable and impressive survival of medieval times is found at the northern extremity of the ancient walled town, where the new town may be said to meet the old. It stands—as did Temple Bar—an interesting, though incongruous, survival amidst the noise and throng of twentieth-century traffic, houses, and bustle. Known anciently as the “Barred” Gate (corrupted eventually into the name “Bargate” it now bears), it is undoubtedly one of the “Bars of Hampton” which we find mentioned as far back as the twelfth century.

Although portions of the Bargate are of widely different periods—the arches which span the roadway and two footpaths—for example, it is still preserved very much as it stood in medieval times, and forms a most interesting example of Norman architectural work. The north front is wonderfully well preserved, and the projecting buttresses and finely-moulded arch, with the picturesque front of semi-octagonal shape, with heavy machicolations, form a very striking object on approach. This front is of somewhat later date than the central part of the gate, and the lions sejeant, now placed on either side once stood on the bridge at the far side of the ditch which ran outside.

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth a Guildhall was formed in the chamber above the main entrance gate, and this has been at various times enlarged and improved, and is now used as a police court. On the northern side it is lighted by the ancient arrow-slit windows from which approach was opposed. The justices’ room, with its uncompromising benches, where the sessions are held, contains several interesting relics of former times, among them the two paintings said to be those of the far-famed giant Sir Bevis, whose sword is preserved in the armoury of Arundel Castle, who played so great a part in medieval romance and ballads, and of his Squire Ascupart. The exploits of these two personages are of a distinctly legendary and even mythical character, but they figure considerably in the history of the town. The paintings were formerly exhibited outside on the walls of the gate tower. The ditch outside the gate was a double one, spanned by a stone bridge, which existed until a comparatively late period. The bank which extended between the two ditches was anciently set aside as an archery ground with targets where the bowmen of the town used to practise.

The original Bargate was undoubtedly Saxon or early Norman, consisting of a large, square central tower, with two round flanking towers, the semi-octagonal front having been erected probably somewhere about the fourteenth century. This ancient structure is undoubtedly one of the chief attractions for the archæologist in Southampton. Its existence has been several times of late years threatened by those who regard it as an obstruction to the traffic and commerce of the town, but hitherto the attempt to secure its demolition has failed, and it is to be hoped that the gate may be spared as an almost unique (so far as the southern counties are concerned) specimen of medieval architecture of its kind.

Although in comparatively recent times there were many other interesting Norman and fifteenth century buildings, or remains of them, in the town, some palaces of kings and princes, others fine houses of rich merchants of long ago, there remain but few and scattered traces of them nowadays.

Of ecclesiastical buildings St Michael’s Church, dating from the commencement of the twelfth century, and still retaining many of its original features, is the chief. The tower is, probably, the oldest portion of the church, the nave and aisles being of considerably later date than the original building. The latter suffered several times at the hands of the French pirates, whose descents proved such terrifying experiences for the townsfolk in the early part of the fourteenth century. The nave was burned by these marauders in 1338, and much damage was done to the other parts of the building. There are several interesting features in the interior; a very ancient font of black limestone and a small collection of chained books never fail to arouse the interest of the antiquarian. The lofty modern spire somehow strikes an inappropriate note when seen in contrast with the somewhat “squat” building, but as a landmark it has its uses.

That the Southampton of long ago was a much more picturesque and even more interesting town than that of to-day is easily understood. Leland, who was, perhaps, rather inclined to err on the side of awarding too warm praise to the places he visited and liked, refers to it in his Itinerary as possessing in the reign of Henry VIII “one of the fairest streates that ys yn any town of al England, and yt is well builded for Timbre Building,” and the impression made on the youthful King Edward VI was of a town which had “for the bigness of it as fine houses as be at London.”