Standing out unequivocally from the Chapel of St John, a position of rulers inside the Tower of London, St Mary Magdalene is a straightforward ward church. It is of an extensively comparative age, in any case, and - however for a sixteenth-century tower and a little passageway yard - despite everything it fits in with the essential three-section game plan that admirers would have anticipated that would discover in 1130: that is, an aisleless nave, a restricted chancel and a haven. On account of this, and an expansive churchyard, and in spite of its vicinity to broad open lodging plans and Sir Joseph Bazalgette's huge mid-Victorian Northern Outfall Sewer, regardless it looks especially like the little nation church it once was.
A Saxon contract portrays a spot called Hamme in 958, which means a range of dry area between streams or swamps, and in 1086 Hame is said in Domesday when it would in any case have been a villa numerous miles from London. In Bazalgette's opportunity the group was still depicted as a 'scattered town', and without a doubt it was not until 1965 that it was at long last joined into a district, named London Borough of Newham. The impression one gets on entering St Mary Magdalene is in this way overwhelmingly one of entering a Norman building. Similarly as with the White Tower, a portion of the window openings have been expanded somewhat yet a considerable lot of the rooftop timbers are unique and some are still held together utilizing twelfth-century wooden pegs. Additionally, while the manufacturers utilized an assortment of various materials - including the at this point commonplace Kentish ragstone, and in addition better quality Caen stone and reused Roman tiles - the mortar used to tie them is a known Norman formula, which one can accept was blended and connected by Norman skilled workers.
Inside on the north divider is a short keep running of visually impaired arcading - the state of the component's converging curves, the unpleasant workmanship and the basic crisscross design giving without end its Norman sources. The same can be said for the trim around the west entryway, which now leads into the tower. A type of adornment that is sufficiently uncommon in legitimately rustic chapels, this is a truly amazing thing to unearth in twenty-first-century London. What can be seen now (by game plan with Islington Borough Council) is in general Tudor brickwork, however the well itself is obviously much more seasoned and was positively being used amid the Norman period. William Fitzstephen, a representative utilized by Thomas à Becket, specifies a few such wells in his 'Descriptio Nobilissimi Civitatis Londoniae' (A Description of the Noble City of London) dated not later than 1180 - portraying how puzzles or religious dramatizations were performed by London assistants and lower ministry who assembled around this specific one.
The well was still being used about six hundred years after the fact, student of history John Strype in 1720 finding it out and about from Clerkenwell to Hockley-in-the-Hole. Around 1800 it was finally supplanted by a pump, be that as it may, and in the end it fell into neglect however perhaps no sooner than the mid-nineteenth century. Infilled with refuse as of right now, and afterward worked over, its area stayed lost until 1924. The delightful-sounding Hockley-in-the-Hole, by chance, would have been marginally toward the north of the intersection of Farringdon Road and Clerkenwell Road.