SOUTHAMPTON without its Bargate would simply not be Southampton, so completely has the towering building become representative of the city. Ever since the 12th century the Bargate has stood guard over Southampton and its people, a bastion of history that has withstood the onslaughts of both wars and planners, who in past years even suggested knocking the old place down to ease Southampton's traffic problem.

The Bargate has remained steadfast down the centuries while all around it Southampton has changed and today prepares for the next millennium with an ambitious new look to the city centre.

The famous lions, which were put up in 1743 to replace far older wooden ones, look down on a changing scene, as does the statue of George III, since it was mounted in its niche on the southern side of the Bargate in 1809.

"In how many and varied ways the Bargate has played a part in town history,'' says one history book.

"To malefactors a place of fear and punishment; the many monarchs who with their cavalcades have proceeded through its archway it was a symbol of the town's power and strength; to many a traveller wearied by long journeys far afield, it has meant the security and happiness of homecoming.''

Today it's just pedestrians that pass through the ancient arch, the northern gateway of the old walls. Gone are the high-laden wagons which for centuries rumbled under the Bargate and over the draw-bridge that once spanned its double moat.

The Georgian coaches, London bound from the Dolphin and the Star hotels in the High Street, have vanished, too.

For many years the Bargate housed Southampton's Guildhall and for decades most of the civic history of the city, including many mayor-making ceremonies, took place behind the thick stone walls.

Back in 1460 one mayor-making ceremony got out of hand when a mob, according to the record books, entered the Bargate "with daggers drawn and with menacing cries'' and forcibly thrust their candidate into the mayoral chair.

In 1618 William Wells, the Town Sergeant, was brought before the court sitting at the Bargate for refusing to open the gate for late travellers, at 10 or 11pm, unless he received a large tip.

A year later, William Coombes, keeper of the jail, which was also housed in the Bargate, found himself in hot water in 1619 for permitting idle persons of the town to drink with the prisoners "whereby dyvers disorders and unrulynes have happened.''

The judges at the Quarter Sessions were so perturbed about the drinking they ruled that from then on each prisoner was rationed to just half-a-gallon of beer a day!

NEXT WEEK: More stories and photographs from the Bargate's history.

Converted for the new archive on 25 January 2001. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.