Part 4

The new Guildhall is a handsome and conspicuous modern building, and stands on the site of the old Globe Hotel. Adjoining it is the Free Library--one of the first established in England. There are some old pictures in the Council Chamber, especially one of Charles II., by Sir P. Lely, given by that monarch to the Corporation. There is also one of the first Marquess of Winchester--a piece of painted board which may teach some worldly wisdom. William Paulet was made a peer by Henry VIII., a marquess by Edward VI., and was High Treasurer under Mary and Elizabeth. How did he accomplish all this? “By being a willow, not an oak.”[40]

[Sidenote: Museum.]

I mounted the staircase to visit the Museum, which is at the top of the building. The greater part of the treasures it contains are “prehistoric,” and lent by Lord Northesk during his life. There is here one of the finest collections in existence of stone axes and arrow heads, and specimens from barbarous countries of our own day, showing how they were hafted and fastened with sinews or matting.

But I felt more interested in the local antiquities. Here is a Roman pavement, found at the corner of Minster Lane, about a hundred yards in front of the west gate of the Cathedral. It is only a segment, and the preservation of it cost £300, which may account for other remains of this kind being allowed to perish. The depth at which it was found was ten feet, so that we may conclude it was laid down soon after the Romans arrived, unless some accidental circumstances led to accumulations over it. The specimens of Roman pottery show us the extent of their town here, for some pieces were found in Water Lane, just over the eastern bridge, while others were dug up in Hyde Street, on the extreme north-west of the city.

Opposite these remains we find a brave row of weights and measures--standard measures for England were first introduced by Edgar at Winchester. Some good citizens maintain with pardonable vanity that one of Edgar’s measuring vessels is still here, but that is not the case. I hoped to be able to hang a story on one of the pegs that good king had put in the Saxon cups; but no material proof of his precautions to prevent tippling or cheating remains. The existing measures date from Henry VII. There is his bushel--a great bronze basin, bearing his name, with an emblematic Lancastrian rose. At the one extremity of a yard measure I found the letter H, at the other E, which I attributed to Henry and Elizabeth of York, who were certainly at opposite ends of the stick, but I was informed that E stood for the Tudor Elizabeth.

[Sidenote: Archives.]

In glass frames are displayed some of the archives of the city. Here is a photo of Henry II.’s charter “civibus meis Wint.,” 1160; it has been said that there was an earlier one. The terms are general, and the contractions numerous and puzzling to the uninitiated--the whole being comprised in a piece of vellum not six inches square. The writing, which was clear in those days, contrasts here with some spidery cacography of later age.

This charter raised the Mayor of Winchester above all other civic officials in England. But at Richard I.’s coronation a dispute arose between the mayors of London and Winchester as to which should be Butler, and which Clerk of the Kitchen--the former being the higher office. The decision was in favour of London, but in compensation the King gave Winchester a very liberal charter.

In a list of ancient usages of Winchester, which existed earlier than the thirteenth century, when this document recording them was written, we find ordinances about various trades--the “bakere” and the “brewstere of myste” are specially mentioned.

“Also everych bakere of ye town that maketh bred to sale shal to the kynge of custome 11s. the year and to the clerk of the town a peny.” It goes on to say that he is to make good white bread, and if the weight is deficient, is to be at the King’s mercy.

“And also everych cart out of fraunchyse comyng in to town with samown, shal to the kynge of custome thre pens.

“Also everych cart out of the fraunchyse shal to the kynge by custome 11 pens and an hafpeny what ffyshe he here to sale. And everych horse berdene of fresh fysh that cometh in to the town to sale and be out of franchyse shal to the kynge thre hafpens of custome and of shalt fysh a hafpeny.”

The monopolies granted in Winchester to trades unions were considerable. In 1580 no cobbler was allowed to make “shoes, boots, buskins, skertoppes, slippers or pantaples;” he was not only to stick to his last, but to confine himself to repairs. Any infringement of this rule involved a penalty of 6s. 8d. a pair. Each trade was to carry on its own business--no intruders allowed. In 1673 a man paid money to be permitted to live in the city, and in 1728 a barber had to pay to be allowed to carry on his business. In 1656 it was resolved that the election of the mayor and aldermen should be by “bullets.” This sounds alarming; but the order is that one hundred red and white bullets, in equal proportions, shall be provided, and that the electors shall put them in privately.

A copy of the letter Cromwell sent to the Mayor summoning the town to surrender is preserved here. It runs thus:

“Sir,--I come not to this city but with a full resolution to save it and the inhabitants thereof from ruine. I have commanded the Souldyers upon payne of death that noe wrong bee done; wch I shall strictly observe, only I expect you give me entrance into the City, without necessitating mee to force my way, which yf doe then it will be in my power to save you or it. I expect yor answeare with in halfe an houre, and rest, your servant,

“OLIVER CROMWELL.”

It will be observed that by some oversight or waggish design the word “not” has been omitted before “in my power.”

A modern, but not uninteresting object here is a large model of the Cathedral, carved in wood with a jack-knife, by a shepherd’s boy, while tending sheep on the Hampshire Downs. It was presented to Dean Garnier in his 92nd year.

We were much pleased with the young lady in charge of this collection, who does her best to answer all the difficult questions put to her. She told us that her father was an antiquary, and half ruined himself in publishing archæological works, but that she was not sorry for it. How refreshing to hear such disinterested sentiments in these grasping days! Her grandfather was a brewer, and she was glad she had none of the money he made in such an objectionable trade.

Just below the Guildhall, on the east, stands a modern brick building, with two towers, named the Abbey House--recalling memories of the celebrated nunnery which stood here. It was founded by Alfred’s queen, Ælwitha, who resided here as a widow. Edburga, his granddaughter, also lived here and carried her humility so far as to wash the nuns clothes secretly, much to the increase of their faith. The church of the Abbey had a lofty tower.

[Sidenote: St. John’s Hospital.]

A little lower down we find two buildings facing each other on either side of the street. The southernmost and more picturesque of the two is the more modern, and only dates from 1833, previous to which a draper’s shop occupied the site. Both belong to one foundation--due, it is said, to St. Birinus--St. John’s Hospital. The northern establishment (on the left) has a little old chapel, built in the days of Henry III. As you enter by the gate you see in the east end of the chapel wall, very high up, an ancient carving of a head surrounded by a rim; but whether meant for a nimbus or a charger, and whether representing Our Lord or St. John, I leave for others to decide.

We find in the Black Book that there were, during Henry VI.’s reign, the following sculptures in alabaster in the hospital:--A head of John the Baptist, two images of the same saint and two of Our Lady. Milner writes: “In the dusthole near the apartments of the widows, amongst other curious antiques, is seen the figure of John the Baptist’s head in a dish, being the bust of the holy patron of the house, which formerly stood over the principal doorway.”

The court of the hospital is laid out in beautiful swards and beds of flowers and the houses seem to be pleasant residences. Before 1852 the land belonged to the Mildmay family, and then the hospital had only six poor cottages. Some arches are visible and stairs going down into a kind of kitchen from which an arch, still visible, communicated with another kitchen or refectory. If we pass through the chapel by the west door we find two Decorated windows (Henry III.), and enter the building containing this old chamber with a low arch and two large hearths. The hall is over the refectory and is a room of magnificent proportions, having its walls beautifully stuccoed with festoons of flowers. This would appear to date from the time of Charles II., whose picture, now in the Guildhall, was formerly here.

St. John’s became the property of the Knights Templar, and on their suppression John Devenish refounded it for lame soldiers, poor pilgrims, and necessitous wayfarers. He had a charitable feeling towards the footsore. After Henry VIII.’s confiscation it was used for meetings of the Corporation. We learn from the Black Book that in the 38th Henry VIII. the supper was to be kept at St. John’s as amply as heretofore. On the Sunday next following the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, the Mayor was to find a capon and so was the alderman of the High Street. In order to keep the “banket” up to the mark each of the benchers was to pay 12d., and each of the “Twenty four” 8d., whether they were present or not.

This establishment had been confiscated by Henry VIII., and the buildings made over to the Corporation for the formation of a new hall. Various references seem to show that this chamber was now being slowly completed. In 21st year of Henry VIII. John Brown was to have a certain tenement in the hold of St. John’s upon condition of his giving twenty shillings towards building a new chimney there; and in 1560 the Mayor of Winchester who had been guilty of riding to Southampton without a servant,[41] and of committing other enormities, was ordered to glaze the west window of St. John’s Hall. This was not the present hall, for it has no window looking west, and the chimney was differently placed. To mend windows seems to have been here a common and useful civic punishment.

I may here observe that the clerk who entered the civic transactions in the Black Book added a new saint to the calendar for he generally calls this hospital that of St. Jones.

The High Street here becomes very broad, apparently to accommodate a Russian gun, but really because the Bridewell and a “dye house” stood here till the beginning of this century, when it was removed to Hyde Street. Even the ponderous cannon has not had a quiet time since it came here, but has been on its travels. It was first placed where it now stands, but a few years ago the Corporation conceived the idea of moving it to a more commanding position on the summit of St. Giles’ hill. They accordingly carried it up, but immediately afterwards a tumultous assembly, aided, it is said, by some officers, and not dissimilar from that which saved the Butter Cross, dragged the gun down again by might and placed it on the site it now occupies.[42]

Close to the bridge on the left-hand side where are Mr. Dance’s house and grounds, stood anciently the Dominican friary, founded by De la Roche, with its “Elysian garden.” Just here was also the Eastgate, a high castellated building, which must have formed a handsome entrance to the town in this direction. It was removed at the end of the last century.

Beneath Bridge Street are the remains of a many-arched bridge said to have been built by St. Swithun.

[Sidenote: Soke Bridge.]

Passing over Soke Bridge, and proceeding straight on, we came, in a few hundred yards, to a public-house built of wood and apparently sinking under the weight of years, but which bore the name of “The Rising Sun.” Through the open door I saw beams and passages of ancient irregularity, and as the landlady, a bright looking woman, was standing just inside I asked her whether she knew anything of the history of the house which bore such proofs of antiquity.

“You _would_ say it was old,” she replied, “if you saw the vaults there are downstairs.”

I answered that we were strangers, and should like to see them. She speedily lighted a candle and led the way down into a chamber about twenty feet square and eight high. A wide flight of broken stairs led up to the street, while on the other side of the vault was an arch with a square window on either side leading to a chamber beyond. There had evidently been stone mullions and iron bars--the irons of the door hinges remain.

This was the prison of the Soke belonging to the Bishop of Winchester, and in ancient times the stocks stood just outside. I expressed the interest I took in these remains of the past.

“Yes, sir,” replied our guide, who was not quite so visionary, “and it is a nice place for keeping beer barrels--it is so cool.”

This part of the town was called the Soke, not, as I at first supposed, because of its low position near the river, but from the Saxon _soc_ or liberty, which instead of signifying that the people here were unusually free, meant that the Bishop of Winchester had license to do whatever he liked to them. Nearly opposite this establishment are some new houses, and when their foundations were being laid, a Roman urn was found, sixteen feet beneath the ground.

[Sidenote:Panoramic View.]

Continuing our walk we made our way up the hill, now terraced and tastefully planted. Less than ten years ago it was covered with little garden allotments belonging to the citizens. On reaching the upper ground--a sort of down--a magnificent view opened over the whole of Winchester. We walked over to the south-east corner, and took up our position on a seat close to the iron fence. From there we could take a general survey. In a hollow about two miles to the east we saw the trees about Chilcombe; on the summit of the down due east was a clump of trees on St. Catherine’s hill; a square tower more to the north on the lower ground was that of St. Cross; from this approaching Winchester, first comes the college, then the old walls of Wolvesey, then the Cathedral, the best and most compact view of it. Nearly over the College on the top of the hill is the clump of firs on the site of Cromwell’s battery, looking lower than our position, but really being higher, and over the Cathedral is the long red brick front of Charles II.’s palace. Truly, we have here Winchester in a nutshell.

In a description of the prospect from this point, written a hundred and fifty years since, mention is made of the beautiful gardens, and in prints dated 1723 and 1736 we find that two-thirds of the space within the walls of Winchester were laid out for horticulture and adorned with large trees.

[Sidenote: The Fair.]

Passing over to the northern side of the down we came to a burial ground. The grave-digger told us that in the southern and older part of it, he was often obstructed by the foundations of the old chapel--that dedicated to St. Giles,[43] a hermit saint whose shrine is always outside mediæval cities. Hard by, an old farm-house still exists called Palm Hall, a corruption of Pavilionis Aula--the tent used by the judges at the famous fair which was held here annually at the end of August. This fair extended round this point and southwards even down the slope and was the greatest but one in England. We find, in the Close Rolls, King John giving directions that wax, pepper, and cinnamon, should be here bought for him; and Henry III. (15) commands the sheriffs of Gloucestershire and Worcestershire to allow wares to be brought to this fair, and at another time orders that the barons (freemen?) should proceed to Winton with their merchandise, and not fear the hostility of the Earl of Salisbury.[44] Guards were placed as well as toll collectors upon the roads for seven leagues round, within which circuit and at Southampton no business was allowed. The right of holding the fair was granted by Rufus to Bishop Walkelin for three days in the year to assist him in building the Cathedral, and the time was gradually extended, till in Henry II.’s reign it lasted sixteen days. The Bishop had the jurisdiction, and the tolls went to the priory of St. Swithun, Hyde Abbey, and other places.

Now let us enter the fair. There is a palisading all round it and only two gates. It looks something between an industrial exhibition and a cattle show. Each kind of ware has a separate locality. Here is the “Draperie” and the “Pottery”--there is the “Spicery.” Here is the street of the “Flemings,” “Limoges,” and “Genoese,” and other nations. Even the Bishop has a stall. There are birds, apes, ferrets, and bears. Here are the dynamiters--dreadful name--very harmless people, vendors of brass pots. Moving among all these we picture to ourselves a number of foreign merchants in rich costumes, Jews in strange hats, the Bishop’s officials in gay liveries, and a crowd of hard-featured, bare-footed peasants.

At sunset the Marshal rides through the fair and orders all stalls to be closed. No one is to have any fire at night except a lamp or mortar. The justiciaries seem to have had some good privileges. They might enter at what day or hour they pleased into the city, and taste one by one all the casks of wine for sale there. They might also send their servants to take loaves from all the bakers and bring them to the pavilion. There they were weighed, and if short, woe betide the baker! his bread was forfeited, and he himself fined or put in the pillory. The tolls seemed heavy on fancy articles. A load of hay or corn was only ½d., and a cask of wine or a cart-load of fish or leather 4d., but an ape or falcon or bear was also 4d.

The fair continued down till about twenty years since. The neighbouring Magdalen or “Morn” fair lasted four years longer. Dean Kitchin writes: “As the city grew stronger and the fair weaker, it slid down St. Giles’ hill and entered the town where its noisy ghost still holds revel once a year.”

[Sidenote: Execution.]

On the brow of St. Giles’ hill, Waltheof, Earl of Northumberland, was beheaded by order of the Conqueror. He had conspired with some other Saxons against the Norman invaders, and was betrayed by his wife--a niece of William’s.

At dawn he was conducted through the city from the Castle, “arrayed in all the badges of his earl’s rank.” After distributing memorial gifts to a few of his friends who accompanied him, he was engaged in prayer so long that the executioners became tired and told him to hasten. He then begged to be allowed to say the Lord’s prayer, but, being overcome and halting in the middle of it, the headsman would wait no longer and the axe fell. It was said that after his head was off it finished the sentence, “Deliver us from evil.” This probably was thought by those who were surprised to see the lips move, as they often do, after decapitation.[45]

FOOTNOTES:

[33] This was the first place where the curfew was established.

[34] Add. MSS. 6,768, British Museum.

[35] Of the eleven streets mentioned in the Winton Domesday book, only two--“Mensterstret” and “Colobrockstret” retain their names.

[36] Archbishop Trench. The name may have been more or less in use before.

[37] Harl. MSS. 66.

[38] Though one destroyed in Henry II.’s reign seems to have been near the Westgate. One existed in Henry III.’s reign.

[39] Pat. Rolls, 5 Henry V., p. 2.

[40] The Corporation of Winchester used to send this accommodating Marquess presents of sack and sugar-loaves.

[41] There was great anxiety that the Mayor should keep up his dignity. He was not to be seen without his gown unless he was going into the country, and his wife was to wear a scarlet gown. In 1584 it was decreed that “no citizen that hath been bayliff of the city shall wear in the street hose or stockings of white, green, yellow, redde, blewe, weggett or oringe color.”

[42] Among the Tanner MSS. 76 in the Bodleian there is a curious account (about 1600) of the devil appearing to four women who were in Winchester gaol. He came to the windows like a fire and shook the gratings, and on another occasion was like “a great black thing with great eyes.” The women screamed, and the keeper ran in but saw nothing. He observed however, that one of the candles he held in his hands blew out, and the other burnt blue, and that the devil had left an “unsavoury” odour in the room.

[43] This chapel was burnt down in 1231. Perhaps both it and St. Catherine’s were originally of wood. A curious old dagger and spear head were found where the new house on the hill was built.

[44] Pat. Rolls, 4 Henry III.

[45] A horrible execution took place in Winchester in 1259. Walter de Scoteneye was torn to pieces by horses for the murder of W. de Clare.

THIRD DAY.

The City Walls--Danemead--Eastgate--Northgate--Westgate--Southgate-- Kingsgate--The College--Wykeham--Wolvesey--Raleigh.

From the Roman occupation, and perhaps from an earlier date, Winchester has been a fortified town. Long after that time, people were slow in laying to heart the saying in Plutarch that a city which contains men who can fight has no need of walls.

The modern defences seem to have been chiefly raised in the time of John and Henry III.,[46] just before Winchester ceased to be the royal city of England. In the first year of John an inexpensive way was discovered of obtaining land to make the fosse. Andrew Clerk, of Winchester, gladly gave ground for the purpose, on condition that he should have confiscated lands “which had belonged to Aaron the Jew, in Shortenestret, and a messuage near it in which Bona the Jewess lived.”[47] In the patents during Henry’s reign “murage,” that is, money for wall-building, is often mentioned.[48]

We now pass down the High Street in the same direction that we took yesterday, and, after reaching the site of the Eastgate, cross the bridge, as we cannot walk close to the river on the western side. We pass down Water Lane, where a Roman urn was discovered a short time since; and, crossing the river by the mill, come to Durngate Terrace, marking the site of a postern in the walls. This gate was made for foot passengers in 1259. It was ordered to be entirely closed during the plague in 1603, whence we conclude this was a squalid part of the town.

[Sidenote: Danemead.]

Thence as we proceeded up the City Road we found the modern walls largely studded with pieces of old cut stone. The foundations of the city walls ran close to the houses on our right, and a gentleman we met told us that during some excavations he had seen a part of them uncovered six feet in thickness. On the left we soon came to Trinity Church, a handsome new structure, and on the right, beside Newman’s the grocer’s, there is a gate leading to some sheds in the famous meadow called Danemead. Farther on we found a turning on the right, and walking up it a few yards came to the Steam Laundry, which stands on the western edge of this field. Sceptics maintain that Dane is a corruption of Dene, and signifies low-lying ground, but we cannot afford to give up the old story. Tradition says that here Athelstan sat on the city wall to see the combat between Guy, Earl of Warwick, and the gigantic Dane, Colbrand: Rudborne luxuriates in the conflict, and records all the mighty cuts and blows and their results with as much detail as if he were a Homer or a reporter at a modern prize fight.