The Tower of London, 3/12/08

The Tower was the best and most interesting single thing I visited in London. Before I had visited it I thought that it was just the White Tower and the place where the crown jewels were on display, but no, there’s a lot more to it than that. We spent about four hours there and could easily have spent longer. A true must-see attraction in London.

Exiting the Tower Underground tube station, you encounter some Roman history - and a cool photo-op.

Admission was expensive (16 pounds, 50 pence – or $33 per person at the unfavorable exchange rates), but worth it. We had the walking talk by the Yeoman Warder (aka “Beefeater”); ours was an animated fellow who was always interesting and fun to listen to. I shall never forget his grisly tale of the execution of Margaret Pole, 8th Countess of Salisbury. (From wikipedia: “According to some accounts, the countess, who was 67 years old, frail and ill, was dragged to the block, but refused to lay her head on it, having to be forced down. As she struggled, the inexperienced executioner's first blow made a gash in her shoulder rather than her neck. Several additional blows were required to complete the execution. A less reputable account states that Margaret leapt from the block after the first clumsy blow and ran, pursued by the executioner, being struck eleven times before she died.”) The Yeoman Warder, being concerned more with drama than accuracy, gave the less reputable account – and added eleven more whacks for a total of 22.

His account of the execution of Anne Boleyn was also memorable. (Again, from wikipedia: “She then knelt upright (in French-style executions). Her final prayer consisted of her repeating, "To Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul." Her ladies removed the headdress and tied a blindfold over her eyes. The execution was swift, consisting of a single stroke: according to one tale, the swordsman was so taken with Anne that he said, "Where is my sword?" and then beheaded her so she would think that she had just a few moments longer to live and would not know that the sword was coming.”) He said that when her head was hoisted to show to the people, her lips were still moving in a prayer and her eyes were moving from side to side. True? Possibly… but I kind of doubt it. I suspect those Beefeaters have a reputation of embellishing stories somewhat.

One of the great mysteries of the Tower of London is the disappearance and likely death/murder of the Princes in the Tower. This is commemorated by a plaque on a wall near a staircase. Who did it? I registered my opinion elsewhere in the Tower, in a display room. On the other side of the room there's an electronic counter where you can register your vote as to who you think did it; I am sorry to say that most people think it was Richard III. However, any sense of fairness is eliminated by the fact that the Great Unwashed Public is voting. After I pressed the Henry VII button, once, a bunch of school kids rushed in and started pressing the buttons willy-nilly. Hmf.

There’s a great arms and armor display within the White Tower; the management uses iconic images of Henry VIII’s ponderous armor in brochures a lot. It’s funny, when I was there, there were a bunch of school kids present. One of them called attention to the armored codpiece, which elicited comments of “Ewwwww… gross!” from the others. It’s worth mentioning that the Henry VIII head is wooden… there a lot of those on display as well, carved in the 18^th C. to go with a horse and armor display. The armor of Charles I is much more refined and later than that of Henry VIII. Somewhat less royal are images of “Gin and Beer” - two odd but, I think, characteristically English statues on display, brought from the Buttery of the Royal Palace of Greenwich, at the end of the 17th century.

I found a suit of armor for myself: at 6’9” in height it ought to be suitable. (That plaque at the foot of it is from the Guinness Book of World Records, stating that this is indeed the biggest suit of armor in the world.)

Also on display within the basement of the White Tower is an excellent old royal plaque. It would look GREAT in my house.

Of course, in English history, the word “Tower” is synonymous with “prisoner,” and nowhere on the Tower grounds was this more apparent than within the Beauchamp (pronounced “beecham”)Tower. It’s a sad place – a place of political incarceration. Bored and desperate prisoners carved their names into the walls and probably spent a lot of time staring at the White Tower. Visiting there caused me to reflect on the truism that power corrupts.

What was especially memorable to me about the Tower was the site called “the medieval palace,” or the facility in St. Martin’s Tower that was built by Edward I – his royal lodging. The first couple of rooms weren’t much to look at, being more or less bare with the old wood exposed. But there was an odd, old woody/musty smell to the place that I have never experienced, and when I went in I had the oddest sense of being in the midst of history, or of confronting it somehow. It’s hard to describe, and of all the historic places I have visited, I have never had this sense anywhere else. It was sort of like all of the many books about medieval English history were then asserting themselves in my head. Very strange. I tried to explain what I was experiencing to my wife, who naturally thought I was nuts.

The palace was situated over a water gate that later became known as the Traitor’s Gate; the entrance to the Tower for accused traitors. Indeed, when I arrived back home I watched the Cate Blanchett “Elizabeth” movie and saw a scene where she’s rowed into the Tower – a prisoner of her sister Mary – through the Traitor’s Gate. Commendably authentic on the part of the producers…

The last room was furnished in an approximation of what scholars think may have been its 13^th C. appearance; there were costumed historical interpreters present. A lady was sitting at a table chatting about her noble family – she had a high forehead, pale skin and gray eyes, which would have been the ideal of medieval feminine beauty. I started talking to one of the reenactors present, but he maintained a first person impression and pretended not to know what I was talking about. When they were off the clock he dropped out of character and talked some. He mentioned that the three lions on the fireplace was the armorial bearing of the Plantagenet family, which I knew. He seemed to be impressed when I told him I was Geoffrey Plantagenet’s 25^th great-grandson – but I quickly assured him that many, many other people are as well, they just don’t know it.

Anyway, having visited Edward’s palace at the Tower of London, I won’t ever look at that quaint old famous manuscript illustration of the Tower the same way.

Not far from Edward I’s palace is a private chamber which was used by his father, Henry III. I took this moody photo of my wife looking out a window – just as he must have done.

Of course, we also did what the Yeoman Warder called “the Bling Thing” and visited the crown jewels. A scowling guard stood at attention outside the entrance. I was impressed with seeing the famous Black Prince’s Ruby (really a spinel) in the Imperial State Crown and the symbolic blunted Sword of Mercy “Curtana.” We weren’t allowed to take photos - drat.

The Tower ravens were in residence, of course. They’re quite popular. At one point, standing near the entrance to the Tower grounds, I was sure I was hearing a Disneyesque recording of ravens piped in for the tourists – my wife disagreed.

It’s worth pointing out that the Tower of London is still an official royal residence, and Her Majesty’s apartments are guarded by a fellow standing at the door.

So that’s my assessment of the Tower of London. I’d go back there for a visit in a heartbeat!