Proof of Age

There are a number of pubs around that make claims to be the oldest, whether in their own city or county, in England or in the whole of the British Isles. One of the best-known is Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem, which allegedly dates from King Richard the Lionheart setting out on Crusade to the Holy Land in 1189. Then there is Ye Olde Fighting Cocks in St Albans, which hit the headlines in 2022 when it was reportedly threatened with closure, bringing to end a record of trading as an inn dating back as far was 793.

These claims add a bit of colour and help enhance pubs’ appeal, but it’s generally recognised that they need to be taken with a pinch of salt and do not necessarily stand up to rigorous historical analysis. And indeed this is shown to be the case in a new book by buildings archaeologist James Wright entitled Historic Building Mythbusting. In this he casts a critical eye over many of the popular beliefs surrounding our inheritance of historic buildings.

For example, there is no evidence that the actual building of the Trip to Jerusalem is older than the 17th century. It was not mentioned as a public house until 1751, and was originally known as the Pilgrim, only gaining its present name in 1799. There are two other nearby pubs, the Bell and the Salutation, that actually have a better claim to be the oldest in the city of Nottingham. Likewise, Ye Olde Fighting Cocks began life as a monastic dovecote around 1400, and was relocated to its present site around 1600. It was first mentioned as a pub in 1756, and at the time was known as the Three Pigeons, receiving its current name in 1807.

On the other hand, there are a number of pubs that have a much more valid claim to great antiquity, but which are not so widely celebrated. Probably the oldest is the George at Norton St Philip in Somerset, still a rather magnificent and commanding building, parts of which can be reliably dated to the late 14th century. Others that can definitely be dated to the early part of the 15th century include the Bull at Ludlow, Henry Tudor House in Shrewsbury and the perhaps better-known galleried New Inn in Gloucester.

Two of the other themes often have a resonance for pubs – “There used to be a secret passage from the pub cellars to the church”, and “This pub was built from old ships’ timbers, you know.” However, both of these are revealed as being largely old wives’ tales. If you think about it, the difficulties in the pre-modern era of excavating and hiding lengthy underground passages, or of transporting large quantities of wood over poor-quality roads, make them both inherently unlikely. But they make a good story!

Amongst the other topics, one of particular interest is the common view is that mediaeval stonemasons would insert the occasional sexually explicit carving into the decoration of churches either because they were disgruntled at not having been paid properly, or because they just wanted to see what they could get away with. But in fact these carvings are so common, and there is so little evidence of official disapproval, that the conclusion has to be that they represent a mediaeval frame of mind that the modern association of Christianity with po-faced Puritanism finds difficult to comprehend.

Maybe the most significant point made in the entire book is debunking the extremely common view that spiral staircases in mediaeval castles were almost always built with a clockwise rotation to give an advantage to right-handed swordsmen defending them against attackers. This is widely prevalent, and is often found in official guidebooks produced by the likes of English Heritage, but has no verifiable foundation whatsoever. A substantial minority of spiral staircases were in fact anticlockwise, including many in Edward I’s famous castles in North Wales, and there is no reference in the Middle Ages to this being a factor in castle architecture.

It’s a substantial and attractively-produced paperback of 228 pages, with an insert of 16 pages of colour photographs to illustrate its themes, and retails at £20. While a book of proper academic rigour, with a full set of references, it is written with a light touch and well leavened with humour,, making it accessible for the general reader. One minor quibble is that it uses a sans-serif typeface and grey rather than black lettering which makes it slightly harder to read than it otherwise could have been. I’d thorough recommend it to anyone interested in old buildings, history or folklore, and it would make an excellent Christmas present for anyone that way inclined.

James Wright is also undertaking an extensive speaking tour to promote the book, which is currently on hiatus, but will resume in the Autumn.