The Story of London

by Henry B. Wheatley

In November 1091 there was a violent storm which did immense damage in London. Stow says in his Chronicle that ‘the Tower of London was also broken,’ and in the Survey he further writes that the Tower was sore shaken by the tempest of wind, but was repaired by William Rufus and Henry I. Clark doubts this, but adds that the outworks, both wall and towers, if in course of construction, with scaffolding about them, probably suffered severely. He further writes: ‘The Tower, therefore, of the close of the reign of Rufus, and of those of Henry I., and Stephen, was probably composed of the White Tower, with a palace ward upon its south-east side, and a wall, probably that we now see, and certainly along its general course, including what is known as the inner ward. No doubt there was a ditch, but probably not a very formidable one.’[92]

Fitz-Stephen is not very full in his description of the Tower. He merely says: ‘On the east stands the Palatine Tower, a fortress of great size and strength, the court and walls of which are erected upon a very deep foundation, the mortar used in the building being tempered with the blood of beasts.’

The Tower is believed to owe much to Henry III., who made extensive alterations and additions. The new works were unpopular among the citizens, and as some of them were unfortunate, a legend came into existence to account for the misfortune. St. Thomas’s Tower and the ‘Traitor’s Gate’ beneath it were in course of construction in 1240, when on St. George’s night the gateway and wall fell down. They were at once re-erected, but in the following year they again fell down. The story, as told by Matthew Paris, is that on the night of the second fall a certain grave and reverend priest saw a robed archbishop, cross in hand, who gazed sternly upon the walls, with which the King was then girdling the Tower, and striking them sharply, asked: ‘Why build ye there?’ on which the newly-built work fell, as though shattered by an earthquake. The priest, too alarmed to accost the prelate, addressed himself to the shade of an attendant clerk: ‘Who, then, is the archbishop?’ ‘St. Thomas the Martyr,’ was the answer, ‘by birth a citizen, who resents these works, undertaken in scorn, and to the prejudice of the citizens, and destroys them beyond the power of restoration!’ On which the priest remarked: ‘What outlay and labour of the hands he has destroyed!’ ‘Had it been,’ said the clerk, ‘simply that the starving and needy artificers thence promised themselves food, it had been tolerable; but seeing that the works were undertaken, not for the defence of the realm, but to the hurt of the citizens, even had not St. Thomas destroyed them, they had been swept away utterly by St. Edmund, his successor.’ This was Edmund of Abingdon, who died in 1240. The works were resumed, and in spite of the powerful opposition of St. Thomas, they were completely successful, and the rebuilding was strong and satisfactory.

The outer ward is supposed to have been completed by Henry III. It is a strip of from 20 feet to 110 feet in breadth, which completely surrounds the inner ward, and is itself contained within the ditch, of which its wall forms the scarp.

The Tower has been (1) a fortress, and so it remains to the present day; (2) a palace, and (3) a prison. We can now consider it under these three aspects, merely mentioning in passing that it was also a mint, an armoury, and a record office.

The Tower as a Fortress.—It was regarded as impregnable in the reign of Stephen, when it was specially required by the King as a fortress, and during the whole mediæval period it was always a place of strong defence. It does not appear ever to have endured a siege of any importance, but if it had, it would doubtless have successfully resisted attack.

The Byward Tower is the great gatehouse of the outer ward, and the Middle Tower is its outwork. There was formerly a drawbridge across the ditch or moat, where now there is a stone bridge 130 feet wide. The gateway to the Bloody or Garden Tower is the main entrance to the inner ward. The inner ward is enclosed within a curtain wall having four sides, twelve mural towers, and a gatehouse. Wakefield Tower, known also as the Record Tower and as the Hall Tower, is, in its lower storey, next in antiquity to the White Tower.

Commencing with Wakefield, and passing westward, the towers are Bloody (where the Duke of Clarence is supposed to have been drowned in Malmsey, and the two sons of Edward IV. smothered), Bell (so called from an alarm bell in the little turret), Beauchamp (from Thomas de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, and also called Cobham Tower, after Lord Cobham), Devereux (after Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, also called ‘Robyn the Devyll’s Tower,’) Flint, Bowyer (so called because it was the residence and workshop of the royal maker of bows), Brick (previously Burbidge), Martin (or Jewel, at one time styled Brick Tower), Constable’s, Broad Arrow, Salt (meaning saltpetre; in the sixteenth century it was known as Julius Cæsar’s Tower), and Lanthorn (called in 1532 the New Tower; it was pulled down in 1788, after a fire).

The wall of the outer ward has upon it bold drum bastions at the angles of the north front; and the south or Thames front is protected by five mural towers, of which one covers the landgate and one the watergate, and two others are connected with posterns. These towers are Develin (called ‘Galighmaies Tower’ in 4 Ric. II.), Well, Cradle, St. Thomas’s (over Traitor’s Gate), and Byward.

Mr. Clark writes: ‘The Tower, at the commencement of the present century, was an extraordinary jumble of ancient and later buildings, the towers and walls being almost completely encrusted by the small official dwellings by which the area was closely occupied. A great fire in 1841 removed the unsightly armoury of James II. and William III. on the north of the inner ward, but the authorities at the time were not ripe for a fire. The armoury was replaced by a painfully-durable Tudor barrack, and the repairs and additions were made with little reference to the character of the fortress. More recently, the general improvement in public taste has made its way even into the Tower.’[93]