William Benham

A Walk round Tower Hill—The Moat—The Outward Ballium—The Legge and Brass Mount Batteries—Develin, Well, Cradle, and St. Thomas’s Towers—Traitors’ Gate—The Inner Ward, its Shape—Bell, Beauchamp, Devereux—Towers on the West; Flint, Bowyer, Brick, Martin, on the North; Constable, Broad Arrow on the East; Lanthorn, Wakefield and Bloody on the South—The Great Keep, its Construction—The Chapel—Armoury—Little Ease—The Ancient Palace, now removed—Church of St. Peter ad Vincula—The King’s House—Officers of the Tower—The Yeomen of the Guard.

Here we may conveniently pause; the building is substantially completed, the great keep, the two enclosures, the Inner and Outer Ballium. Subsequent changes are all within these, and we shall have occasion to notice them at later dates, but now that we have seen the fortress completed, and used, partly as a Royal residence, partly as a State Prison, we will survey the whole in detail. And I ask attention to the Plan opposite p. 104, which will make each point clear. I propose, then, first to take a walk round the outside and start from the bottom of Tower Hill by the main entrance, where the visitors are busy buying their tickets of admission. The modern building where they are doing this is the site of the old Lion Tower. Facing us is the Middle Tower, the gateway which leads over the Moat into the fortress itself. But as I am keeping outside I pass this and ascend the hill. To-day the whole of the bank of the Moat on the western and northern side is laid out as a flower garden, and the many seats among the trees are well occupied with loungers, mostly poor, some asleep and some reading the newspaper. The Moat, which is as old as the Tower itself, was deepened by Bishop Longchamp while he held the place for Richard I, and again by Henry III, the water of course being supplied from the Thames, which flowed in at what we call Traitors’ Gate. Its greatest width is about a hundred feet. It is said that bathing in it in the days of the Plantagenets was a capital offence, but some one suggests that this simply means that it was so unsanitary as to be likely to prove fatal. There can be no doubt that the water splashing upon the walls and bastions added greatly to the picturesqueness; you see that in all the old pictures, but the changes of Time put aside its usefulness, and after eight centuries of its ebb and flow, the Duke of Wellington, when he was Constable, had it filled up to its present level and the communication with the river cut off. So now we look down upon a smooth level, on the west side gravelled, a place for recreation, and sometimes also a drying-ground of the Tower laundry. On the other sides, when we get to them, we see great portions laid down for garden ground. On the other side of the Moat is the Outward Wall, built by Henry III. Surveying it from this western side we see first the Byward Tower, which, as a glance at the plan will show, is opposite the Middle Tower, and forms the land entrance into the fortress. On the opposite end of this western side is the “drum bastion,” segment of a circle about 80 feet diameter, called Legge’s Mount Battery, probably after George Legge, Earl of Dartmouth, who had charge of it in the seventeenth century.

Turning eastward, and surveying the north side, we observe that this is not, like the western, a straight line, but an obtuse angle, which is bounded on the east by the Brass Mount, probably so called because brass cannon were mounted on it. At the bend is the North Bastion, a modern erection containing three tiers of casements, each pierced for five guns. At the north-east we leave the side of the Moat, and passing up through the gardens emerge opposite the Mint into the open road, which leads over that wonderful achievement of modern engineering, the Tower Bridge. But as our present business is not with it, we go down a flight of steps into Little Tower Street, on a level with the Thames. The wall on the eastern side is quite straight; and so we pass to the eastern end of the river front. This, as being the most exposed and also having the moat narrower, is fortified with five regular towers, the Develin, Well, Cradle, St. Thomas’s and Byward Towers. The Develin (temp. Henry III) formerly led into the precincts of St. Katharine’s. Till lately it was used as a powder magazine. The Cradle Tower is in front of what were the royal apartments, and was a gate specially for the convenience of royalty. There was in those days a portcullis, and a hoist or lift by which a boat could be lifted from the river to the level of the gateway. Hence the name “cradle,” a movable bed.

Next we come to St. Thomas’s Tower, almost always called now Traitors’ Gate, from its ancient function. It was the water-gate of the Tower, and commanded the communication between the Thames and the Moat. It is in fact a barbican, probably unique, placed astride upon the Moat, which was here about 40 feet broad, and perforated by a passage leading from the river. The original name was the Watergate; “Traitors’ Gate” dates from the time of Queen Elizabeth. Independently of its historical associations it is really a wonderful structure, a magnificent arch, 62 feet span, with no key-stone, the stones of the two rows of the arch fitted together with perfect accuracy. The state prisoners were brought down the river in the government barge, conveyed beneath this arch to the flight of steps, by which they ascended to the gateway of the Inner Ward. Of course, like the rest of the Moat, the bed is now dry and the river walled out, but there, under the arch, are still the massive folding trellised gates, as well as the steps, the latter partially renovated, no doubt, but unmistakably showing some of the old ones which so many feet have trod. We think of the men, not only brought in as prisoners, but carried forth again to Westminster Hall for trial, and brought back so often under sentence of death, with the edge of the axe turned towards them. Not the Roman Capitol, nor the RÖmer of Frankfurt, nor the Bridge of Sighs at Venice can count such a list of names as Traitors’ Gate. St. Thomas’s Tower was built by Henry III, and named by him after St. Thomas of Canterbury. There is an old piscina showing that it once contained a chapel. Passing it we come along the Wharf to our starting-point, the Middle Tower, and so have completed the walk round the outside.

And now starting from the Middle Tower and crossing a stone bridge over the Moat, which replaces a wooden drawbridge which gave entrance of old, but has been withdrawn now that there is no longer need of it, we are in the Inner Ward, and I shall do with this as with the Outer, and first walk round it on the outside. It is enclosed within a curtain wall, having twelve mural towers and a gatehouse. Its longest side faces the river, the east and west sides incline inwards, so that the north face is narrower than the base, and like the corresponding wall in the outer ballium, is broken by an obtuse angle, having like that a central salient. When we get to the inside we shall find that this Inner Ward is on a higher level than the Outer, some 15 or 20 feet. This may be partially owing to the earth excavated by Longchamp when the ditch was made being thrown up here. There is a clear passage between the Inner and Outer Ward, to which the ordinary visitor is not admitted. It is known as “The Casemates.” We first, by the courtesy of the authorities, walk round this and note the semicircles of the towers: on the west side, the Bell, Beauchamp and Devereux; on the north, Flint, Bowyer, Brick, Martin; on the east, Constable, Broad Arrow, Salt; on the south, Lanthorn, Wakefield, Bloody. Most of these will be noticed in turn. This passage round, which is now quite open, was formerly filled up with houses, warders’ residences and storehouses, which were removed in 1867. There are doorways along it into the outer wall, in which are lodgings for officials and chambers for stores. And now we make a yet further move, and pass within the wall, and so are in the heart of the Tower itself. The original entrance was through the Bloody Tower; it is so now for one division of visitors, but the Wakefield is made another entrance. Within, naturally, the prominent object in view as in historical interest is the Keep, the great White Tower of William the Conqueror. It stands on sloping ground, so that the north side basement is 25 feet higher than the south; quadrangular, 107 feet north and south by 118 east and west. The two western angles are square; that on the north-east has a round stone turret; the south wall terminates eastward in a bold half-round bow, marking the apse of the chapel. This keep is 90 feet high, composed of three floors, or four stages. The basement is below ground on the north, and on the ground level on the south. The walls are from 12 to 15 feet thick. The internal area is divided by a wall 10 feet thick, which rises from bottom to top, and so makes a separate smaller western and larger eastern portion. This last is again subdivided into two by another wall running east and west. The vault or subcrypt of the chapel is known in Tower phrase as “Little Ease.” We shall have it hereafter. On the first floor is the crypt and the upper storeroom. On the second floor is St. John’s Chapel, nave and aisle, and the Lower Armoury; on the third floor the chapel triforium and the Upper Armoury, the ancient Council Chamber, or “state floor.”

7. The Tower, shewing the East Outer Ballium.

From a drawing by H. Hodge, April, 1880.
Gardner Collection.

THE DEVELIN OR
IRONGATE TOWER.

THE SALT TOWER. THE BROAD ARROW TOWER. THE CONSTABLE TOWER. BRASS MOUNT BASTION.

THE WELL TOWER.THE JEWEL TOWER.

We can trace here the origins of our old Law Courts. From the first it was a recognized rule that the Inner Ballium was sacred to royalty, and the general world coming on business had to content itself with admission to the Outer Ballium. The great Council Chamber was especially the “King’s Curia,” the King’s Bench, where his justices sat to supervise the proceedings of inferior courts, as well as to deal with criminal matters directly affecting the Crown. The Court of Common Pleas, suits between subject and subject, was held in the Hall Tower close to the Outer Ballium, to which there was an entrance into the Royal Palace. And here strict rules were kept, in order to keep the commonalty at a distance. There was a preliminary meeting at the Church of All Hallows Barking, to settle who were to be admitted for the pleadings. This last Court was removed to Westminster Hall by Magna Charta.

The entrance into this wonderful building is by a well-stair at the south-west angle. The keep was restored on the outside by Sir C. Wren, who faced the windows with stone in the Italian style. The inside has been very little altered. The largest of the four turrets was the original Observatory of the great astronomer, Flamsteed.

The Chapel, dedicated to St. John the Evangelist, is a very rare, if not unique, example of such a large and complete apartment in a Norman keep. It is in plan a rectangle 40 feet by 31 feet, terminating eastward in a semicircular apse of its full breadth, making the total length 55 ft. 6 in. It is divided into a nave and aisles, a splendid example of Norman work, simple, complete. It was intended primarily, no doubt, for the devotions of the Conqueror and his descendants; the church of St. Peter below was built for the use of the garrison. Though architecturally plain, it was probably painted and hung with tapestry. Henry III gave some stained glass. The only fireplace in the great keep is on this floor.

The Armoury was begun by Henry VIII. His original locality of the armour was Greenwich, and consequently there is little armour here older than the fifteenth century. It used to be kept in a temporary gallery, removed in 1883, on the south side of the keep; it was then removed to the top floor, and within the last few years the floor below is also required. I make no attempt to classify the armour here; the subject has been fully treated in the Portfolio monographs, Nos. 33 and 38.

South of the keep, between it and the ward wall facing the river, formerly stood the Royal Palace, which was removed at various times by James I and Cromwell to make room for storehouses. Some portions even remained until after the Restoration. The Castle Keep in the Middle Ages was the occasional residence of the lord, but he almost always had his ordinary lodging close by. In the plan will be observed “k. little storehouse in Cold Harbour”; it was the old gateway into the King’s residence, and the Queen had her own rooms between the Salt and Lanthorn Towers. At “h. Mortarpiece Storehouse” was the Great Hall where the King heard cases and received deputations.

Of the twelve mural towers the Wakefield is the most ancient. It is also known as the Record Tower, the national records having been kept there until they were removed to their present home in Fetter Lane. In the survey of Queen Elizabeth it is the Hall Tower, from its proximity to the hall just mentioned. It is a large circular building; the lower part is probably the work of William Rufus. The upper storey consists of a fine handsome chamber, with a recess which it is said Henry VI used as his private chapel, fitting it with aumbry and piscina; and tradition states that it was whilst he was praying here that he was murdered. The Wakefield Tower is now the receptacle of the King’s Crown and all the other splendid articles of the English regalia.

Bloody Tower was the original gatehouse of the Inner Ward. It stands opposite to Traitors’ Gate, and also abuts against the Wakefield Tower, does not bulge out into semicircle as do the others, but its exterior face ranges with the curtain wall. All this indicates that its safeguarding was carefully thought of. Its original name was the Garden Tower, and it is so called in the survey of Henry VIII. This was owing to its being close to the Constable’s garden, now the Parade. Its present name is given to it in the survey of 1597; popular prejudice rather than Tower tradition attributes the change to the murder of Edward and his brother, but the word seems hardly appropriate to the smothering of the poor children. The chief warder showed me some hooks in the gateway. On these, he told me, heads were stuck after executions, and these he said were the origin of the name.

The Bell Tower was so called from the alarm bell suspended from its summit. The bell now discharges the duty of summoning the garrison to St. Peter’s Church.

The Beauchamp or Cobham Tower is one of special interest owing to the number of memorials cut upon its walls by its distinguished prisoners. We shall have some of them hereafter. Its name is derived from Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who was imprisoned here towards the end of the fourteenth century. The Devereux was originally the Robert the Devil Tower. The name was altered when Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, was confined in it in 1601. The Flint and Curtain Towers were rebuilt not many years ago. The Bowyer is so called because it was the workshop of the royal maker of bows.

Martin’s Tower became the Jewel House in 1641. The jewels were moved that year from the south side of the White Tower, because, as that was used for a powder magazine, it was feared they might be endangered. It was here that Colonel Blood made his audacious attempt in 1673, as we shall see.

The others have nothing special which need detain us; they were all at one time or other used as prisons, except the Lanthorn Tower which was the King’s bedchamber and private room at the time when he had his palace here. It has been recently restored. It took its name from the light placed on the top for the benefit of vessels coming up the river.

The Church of St. Peter ad Vincula, in the north-west corner of the Inner Ward, was in existence from Norman times. There is mention of it in the days of King John, but the present building is mostly of the Perpendicular period. It is devoid of ornament, but has a deep interest as having been the burial place of so many victims who perished on the scaffold almost close to it on the Parade or Tower Green, as well as on Tower Hill outside. Most of them however have been removed to other resting-places. Some years ago the remains of the victims of the ’45 were found, and the lead coffin plates are now fastened on the wall. The chaplain is appointed by the Crown, but is under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of London.

The King’s House is the official designation of the Lieutenant’s lodging, on the south-west part of the Inner Ward. This also has many interesting historical associations. In the Council Chamber, now occupied as a bedroom, the Commissioners appointed by James I examined the conspirators of the Gunpowder Plot. A long Latin inscription on the wall commemorates the circumstances. Here was imprisoned Margaret, Countess of Lenox, grandmother of James I, for marrying her son, Lord Henry Darnley, to the Queen of Scots.

It has been found desirable to state these details as the canvas on which the historical incidents which follow can be written in their due course. But this seems also the place to give some account of the officers of the Tower.

When William the Conqueror had achieved his great work of building the Tower, he showed his high sense of its importance by conferring the charge of it on one of his faithful followers, Geoffrey de Mandeville, who had distinguished himself greatly at the Battle of Hastings. He was called the “Constable,” sometimes “of the Tower,” sometimes “of the sea”; this last owing to the jurisdiction which he exercised over the ships that came up the river. There are constant cases, dispersed through the records, how he allowed and restrained merchants to depart from the port, prevented forestalling, took security not to go to forbidden places, compelled those who brought fish to London for sale to take them to Queenhithe, and so on.

He had various customs and profits. From every boat coming to London laden with rushes, such a quantity as could be held between a man’s arms was to be laid for him on the Tower Wharf; from every oyster boat “one maund” (hand-basket full); from every ship laden with wine, one flagon before and one from behind the mast; swans coming under London Bridge towards or from the sea belonged to the Constable; horses, cows, pigs, sheep falling from the bridge into the Thames were the Constable’s if he could rescue them; and for every foot of such animals feeding within the ditches of the Tower, he was entitled to one penny. Then there were tenements on Tower Hill of which the rents were his, as well as those for herbage growing on Tower Hill; herring boats from Yarmouth paid him twelve pence. Then prisoners had to pay heavy fees—a duke paid twenty pounds, an earl twenty marks, a knight a hundred shillings. And there was an annual fee of fifty to a hundred pounds, and allowances of wax, wine, and other necessaries for the use of the household. It is needless to add that though these particular privileges have gone, the Constable of the Tower has always been a very important personage, holding his appointment by Royal Letters Patent under the Great Seal. He has the honour of the privilege of audience of, and direct communication with the King. On his installation the keys are delivered to him by the Lord Chamberlain. He, always a man, therefore, of high rank, appointed a Lieutenant, to whom he allowed £20 a year, with such savings as could be made in furniture and food. In the reign of Henry VIII, the Lieutenant, who had now become the actual prison warder, had a new house built for his accommodation, in a courtly quarter, under the Belfry. This is now “the King’s House,” the residence of the present Major of the Tower, General Milman, who is, ex officio, a Justice of the Peace for the Tower Liberties, and a Deputy Lieutenant of the Tower Hamlets. The Tower Commitment Book, containing the date of all prisoners as far back as 1666, is in his custody. By him the Yeoman. Warders are sworn in as special constables, their duties being confined to the limits of the Tower. They are described in the official regulations as “Honorary members of the King’s Bodyguard of the Yeomen of the Guard.” They are selected from warrant officers and noncommissioned officers of the army, and are on the same footing as serjeant-majors of the army. The “Yeoman Gaoler” who carries the curious old axe (figured in the Tower trophy of arms) on state occasions is responsible for the general maintenance of order. The “Yeoman Porter” is chief warder; has charge of the gates and drawbridges; also has the care of the Warders’ Uniforms. He asserts the right of the Tower authorities over Postern Row and George Street, by closing the iron bars across these thoroughfares on the first working day in August. Every night at 11 o’clock, when the Tower gates are locked, the Yeoman Porter applies five minutes beforehand to the serjeant of the guard at the Main Guard for the escort for the King’s keys. The serjeant acquaints the officer that the escort is called for, who furnishes a serjeant and six men for this duty, at the same time placing his guard under arms. When the keys return, the sentry at the guard-room challenges—“Halt! who comes there?” Yeoman Porter answers “The keys.” “Whose keys?” “King Edward’s keys.” Yeoman Porter places himself, with the escort, in front of the guard; the officer of the guard gives the word, “Present arms!” The Yeoman Porter then says in an audible voice, “God preserve King Edward!” and the whole guard answer “Amen!” The keys are then carried by the Yeoman Porter to the King’s House. A similar escort is called for in the morning at the opening, but no ceremony takes place then.

The Yeomen of the Guard were first appointed by Henry VII, and made their first public appearance at his coronation. Since then there has been no Royal Pageant in which they have not been conspicuous. The word “Yeoman” of itself is a puzzle. It evidently signified an officer of high grade; we have “Yeomen of the Guard,” “of the Black Rod,” “of the Chamber,” “of the Pantry,” “of the Robes,” “of the Crown,” “of the Mouth.” But the derivation of the word is quite uncertain. The Gentleman’s Magazine says (vol. xxix.) that it is of military origin, like “esquire,” and that as these were so called because they carried shields (ecu), so the yeomen were archers, who carried yew. But Johnson and Skeat both prefer ga (A.S. “village”) man. Another question is, why are they called “Beefeaters”? a question not likely to be ever settled. When I was a child, my old rector, Archdeacon Bayley, told me with much impressment that because one of their duties was to watch the royal beauffet, they were called “beauffetiers,” and that it has got thus corrupted. And this is the derivation given to the first query in Notes and Queries (I. iii. 167). Skeat (Notes and Queries, V. vii. 64) treats this with the utmost contempt. He says it was a mere guess of Steevens’s, that the yeomen didn’t wait at table, and that the word means “an eater of beef,” and by consequence “a jolly yeoman.” There are very many discussions running through Notes and Queries, and it seems to me that Skeat holds his ground well.

There are 100 yeomen. The costume is said to be that of the private soldier of Henry VII’s time. It will be remembered that he may be said to be the first monarch who had a standing army. The Naval and Military Gazette of 1876 has the following:—

“The Yeomanry of the Guard were formed into a corps in 1485 and first made their appearance at the coronation of Henry VII in white gaberdines, ornamented with the royal device, and caps surrounded by the roses of York and Lancaster. The King, who loved a joke, would sometimes dress himself in the habit of his yeomen, and scour the country in search of adventures. On one occasion he paid a visit to the Abbot of Chertsey, who, ignorant of his guest and rank, but nevertheless hospitably inclined, placed him before a round of beef, which disappeared with marvellous rapidity. The worthy dignitary exclaimed that he would give a hundred marks for such an appetite. Shortly afterwards the churchman was arrested on the King’s warrant, and imprisoned in Windsor Castle, where he was fed on bread and water. At the end of some days a baron of beef appeared, to which the abbot did justice, and lifting his eyes at the end of his meal, saw the yeoman before him, who claimed the hundred marks. ‘Who art thou, Beefeater?’ exclaimed the priest. The King revealed himself, and took the hundred marks. But the Abbot profited by the joke, for he was not long after made Bishop of Bangor.”

Fuller tells the same story, but makes the King, with more probability, not Henry VII, but VIII.