Streets of London : From monks to merchants

Today we continued our walk north of the Thames where the Black Friars had their monastery, close to the king's favour. Some became Confessor to various kings, and over time were awarded stone for priory buildings and lead for their water aqueducts when they needed it, so for the most part they stayed in royal favour. Until the Dissolution, of course, when Henry V111 pocketed all the monastery funds throughout the land, and had most of their beautiful buildings destroyed, but not before he had used this very monastery to grant his divorce from Catherine of Aragon in 1529 so he might marry Anne Boleyn.

We lunched at Black Friar's pub, where the walls are laden with monkish mosaics and copper reliefs of busy happy friars, reminding us of what once was here, close to the waterfront. Today, most of the remnants of the monastery are beneath the ground: foundations. Though we found one surface piece of a monsastery wall as we wandered, sticking up out of what is now a churchyard: so thick and solid and strong, it has lasted for centuries, albeit pilfered by many generations for the stone.

The Court, the Friars, and the local citizens needed the trades close as they improved their homes and their businesses. The Hall of the Apothecaries was one such, which looked after the production and distribution of medicines and maintained the quality. Today, their walls show they still have some involvement in granting Diplomas, so they have not lost all their powers. Many guilds still have old money sitting in bank accounts growing exponentially so today, no doubt. they hold many meetings to find ways of dispersing some of those funds every so often.

Further on our walk we found another trade, or guild, as they were once called: the Cutler's Hall, which happened to have the door to the hallway temporarily opened when we arrived: hence the interior shot. They were responsible for keeping standards high in the making and care of knives, swords and the like. The beautiful old stone mural on the external wall shows the trade in various panels: the forging, grinding, hafting and finishing processes. This complete piece was sculpted by an apprentice knife grinder who was unable to proceed with his trade because of illness, so his doctor advised him to take up sculpting. He made a beautiful job of it.

And in another courtyard we came across the Livery Hall of the Worshipful Company of Stationers and Newspaper Makers. Close to Fleet Street, of course, and the monks and the royals. They have been here since 1611, and in that time publishers were supposed to submit a copy or two of each new publication to the guild, consequently many of Shakespeare's plays came to be registered here, so close to where he was a player. And not just across the river at the Globe Theatre. Shakespeare was a leading member of a playhouse troupe called the Kings Men who wrote for, and played in, a theatre on this side of the Thames. We found reference to it in a back lane which is still called Playhouse Yard. The theatre was actually built out of the old Black Friar's Refectory. It had a roof, unlike the Globe, and was large, seating some 700 folk at a time, so actually took admissions double what the Globe could take. Being all weather, of course, was a contributing factor to its popularity.

Another lane is called Wardrobe Place. It was here in the 14th century that a mansion was used to store many of the royal ceremonial robes: likely too large and cumbersome for the palace wardrobe. Shakespeare actually came here at one time to purchase cloth for a costume needed in a play the King's Men were involved in, so this was a useful store as well as storage: until the Great Fire consumed the lot, just a few decades later.

Close to that we found Carter Lane. Even in those day, movers and lifters were needed by priests, monks and papists. It is easy to imagine them leaning on their barrows at Carter's Halt, chatting to each other, whilst waiting for a call to courier something from one place to another.

We came across the old Temple Bar, too: one of the city gates which had to be removed as Fleet Street was expanding as it caused too much traffic congestion trying to get through its arch. Its spikes tell the tale of severed heads, displayed to deter offenders most likely to incur a similar fate. We passed St Paul's Cathedral with only tourists in evidence today. No execution of Guy Fawkes taking place, as happened in 1606. Close, in Dean's Court, is the Old Deanery designed by Christopher Wren. Even today this is the London Palace of the Bishop of London.

Further along, in Amen Court -- I love the name -- other clergy and staff from the Cathedral still live in these beautiful old buildings around a garden courtyard, albeit not accessible to the public. We could only peak. Not far along we found Cock Lane: the only street in medieval London allowing a licence for prostitutes to work the street. How amazingly liberal for the times. How close to the holy houses, too. Today it is wiped clean and sterile, though it has a sign that does warn that the footpath is now closed.

Cathedrals nestle close to old gin palaces, as they ever did. Here is the Viaduct Tavern whose cellars it is thought, formed part of notorious Newgate Prison, sited right outside its front door and across a street. Today, only plaques tell us where that terrible place once stood. Except for a hand bell, kept in the church of St Sepulchre without Newgate, which the sexton used to carry across the street the night before an execution, arriving at the cell of the condemned person, clanging it, exhorting them to give their souls to god. '"When will you pay me?" say the bells of Old Bailey?' But as you walk further up and look behind those very walls, today the Central Criminal Court at Old Bailey occupies the voluminous space. Here, Oscar Wilde ended up, for corrupting his young aristocratic lover.

Tucked into another lane wall we came across an old Watch House. We have seen these before, built inside church yards. This one appears to be outside. Here were the guards watching over the graveyards attempting to prevent bodies being snatched and sold to St Bartholomew's hospital across the street for dissecting practise in their medical research studies. Bart's still survives: with the only statue of Henry V111 in all London adorning one of its gates.

Not far away are the 'smooth fields' of West Smithfield, a live cattle and meat market, and now the last of its kind in London. It was to here that William Wallace, Scotland's great defender, was stripped naked and dragged behind his horse from the Tower of London to be hanged. While still alive he was lowered, eviscerated, then beheaded, his body cut into four parts: his head piked on London Bridge.

We walked through a 13th century gatehouse into the square of the church of St Bartholomew-the-Great parts of which have survived from Norman times.

On our way home we passed a gorgeous home that belonged to one of the 17th century merchants who must have been so grateful that the Great Fire did not make it this far. But, still, we are seeing London's skyline change dramatically. Every walk we notice the difference since last we were here. Old buildings are being done away with. Sky scrapers, new to the London scene, are encroaching. These old places are increasingly under threat. In time, they will likely go where the Black Friar's priory went: with just remnants reminding us of what once was.