Depositing his caliver against the wall of the turret, Winwike told his companion to look around. Renard obeyed, and a glorious panorama met his gaze. Immediately beneath him lay the fortress, with its chain of towers — its ramparts — its fortifications, its bridges, and its broad deep moat. Beyond was spread out old and picturesque London, with its numerous steeples, above which rose the massive tower of St. Paul’s. A little on the left was old London Bridge, covered with outhouses — the noise of the falling water, and the mills, being distinctly audible where they stood. Nearer lay the river glittering in the sunbeams, and filled with a forest of masts. Renard contemplated this prospect for sometime in silent admiration.
“There you behold the Tower of London,” said Winwike, pointing downwards.
“And there I read the history of England,” replied Renard.
“If it is written in those towers it is a dark and bloody history,” replied the warder—” and yet your excellency says truly. The building on which we stand, and those around us, are the best chronicles of our country. I can recount to your worship their foundation, and the chief events that have happened within them, if you are disposed to listen to me.”
“Proceed, then,” replied Renard, “and when I have heard enough I will interrupt you.”
CHAPTER IV.
OF THE TOWER OF LONDON; ITS ANTIQUITY AND FOUNDATION; ITS MAGNITUDE AND EXTENT; ITS KEEP, PALACE, GARDENS, FORTIFICATIONS, DUNGEONS, AND CHAPELS; ITS WALLS, BULWARKS, AND MOAT; ITS ROYAL INMATES; ITS CONSTABLES, JAILERS, WARDERS, AND OTHER OFFICERS; ITS PRISONERS, EXECUTIONS, AND SECRET MURDERS.
IN 1078 (for, instead of following the warder’s narrative to Simon Renard, it appears advisable in this place to offer a slight sketch of the renowned fortress under consideration, especially as such a course will allow of its history being brought down to a later period than could otherwise be accomplished), the Tower of London was founded by William the Conqueror, who appointed Gundulph, Bishop of Rochester, principal overseer of the work. By this prelate, who seems to have been a good specimen of the church militant, and who, during the progress of his operations, was lodged in the house of Edmere, a burgess of London, a part of the city wall, adjoining the northern banks of the Thames, which had been much injured by the incursions of the tide, was taken down, and a “great square tower,” since called the White Tower, erected on its site.
Some writers have assigned an earlier date to this edifice, ascribing its origin to the great Roman invader of our shores, whence it has been sometimes denominated Caesar’s Tower; and the hypothesis is supposed to be confirmed by Fitz Stephens, a monkish historian of the period of Henry the Second, who states, that “the city of London hath in the east a very great and most strong Palatine Tower, whose turrets and walls do rise from a deep foundation, the mortar thereof being tempered with the blood of beasts.” On this authority, Dr. Stukeley has introduced a fort, which he terms the Arx Palatina, in his plan of Londinium Augusta. But, though it is not improbable that some Roman military station may have stood on the spot now occupied by the White Tower — certain coins and other antiquities having been found by the workmen in sinking the foundations of the Ordnance Office in 1777 — it is certain that no part of the present structure was erected by Julius Caesar; nor can he, with propriety, be termed the founder of the Tower of London. As to its designation, that amounts to little, since, as has been shrewdly remarked by M. Dulaure, in his description of the Grand Chatelet at Paris—” every old building the origin of which is buried in obscurity is attributed to Caesar or the devil.”
Fourteen years afterwards, in the reign of William Rufus, who, according to Henry of Huntingdon, “pilled and shaved the people with tribute, especially about the Tower of London,” the White Tower was greatly damaged by a violent storm, which, among other ravages, carried off the roof of Bow Church, and levelled above six hundred habitations with the ground. It was subsequently repaired, and an additional tower built on the south side near the river.
Strengthened by Geoffrey de Magnaville, Earl of Essex, and fourth constable of the fortress, who defended it against the usurper Stephen, but was, nevertheless eventually compelled to surrender it; repaired in 1155, by Thomas a Becket, then Chancellor to Henry the Second; greatly extended and enlarged in 1190, the second year of the reign of Richard Coeur de Lion, by William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely and Chancellor of the realm, who, encroaching to some distance upon Tower Hill, and breaking down the city wall as far as the first gate called the postern, surrounded it with high embattled walls of stone, and a broad deep ditch, thinking, as Stow observes, “to have environed it with the river Thames” — the Tower of London was finished by Henry the Third, who in spite of the remonstrances of the citizens, and other supernatural warnings, if credit is to be attached to the statement of Matthew of Paris, completely fortified it.
A gate and bulwark having been erected on the west of the Tower, we are told by the old chronicler above mentioned, “that they were shaken as it had been with an earthquake and fell down, which the King again commanded to be built in better sort, which was done. And yet again, in the year 1241, the said wall and bulwarks that were newly builded, whereon the King had bestowed more than twelve thousand marks, were irrecoverably quite thrown down as before; for the which chance the citizens of London were nothing sorry, for they were threatened, that the said wall and bulwarks were builded, to the end, that if any of them would contend for the liberties of the city, they might be imprisoned. And that many might be laid in divers prisons, many lodgings were made, that no one should speak with another.” These remarkable accidents (if accidents they were), were attributed by the popular superstition of the times to the miraculous interference of Thomas a Becket, the guardian saint of the Londoners.
By the same monarch the storehouse was strengthened and repaired, and the keep or citadel whitened (whence probably it derived its name, as it was afterwards styled in Edward the Third’s reign “La Blanche Tour”) as appears by the following order still preserved in the Tower Rolls:— “We command you to repair the garner within the said tower, and well amend it throughout, wherever needed. And also concerning all the leaden gutters of the Great Tower, from the top of the said tower, through which the rain water must fall down, to lengthen them, and make them come down even to the ground, so that the wall of the said tower, lately whitened anew, may by no means decay, nor easily break out, by reason of the rain water dropping down. But to make upon the said towers alures of good and strong timber, and throughout to be well leaded; by which people might see even to the foot of the said tower, and better to go up and down, if need be.” Further orders were given in this reign for the beautifying and fitting up the chapels of St. John and St. Peter, as already mentioned in the account of those structures.
The same monarch planted a grove, or orchard of “perie trees,” as they are described in his mandate to Edward of Westminster, in the vicinity of the Tower, and surrounded it with a wall of mud, afterwards replaced by another of brick, in the reign of Edward the Fourth. He likewise established a menagerie within the fortress, allotting a part of the bulwark at the western entrance, since called the Lions’ Tower, for the reception of certain wild beasts, and as a lodging for their keeper. In 1235, the Emperor Frederick sent him three leopards, in allusion to his scutcheon, on which three of those animals were emblazoned; and from that time, down to a very recent date, a menagerie has been constantly maintained within the Tower. To support it, Edward the Second commanded the Sheriffs of London to pay the keeper of his lions sixpence a day for their food, and three halfpence a day for the man’s own diet, out of the fee farm of the city.
Constant alterations and reparations were made to the ramparts and towers during subsequent reigns. Edward the Fourth encroached still farther on Tower Hill than his predecessors, and erected an outer gate called the Bulwark Tower. In the fifth year of the reign of this monarch a scaffold and gallows having been erected on Tower Hill, the citizens, ever jealous of their privileges and li
berties, complained of the step; and to appease them, a proclamation was made to the effect, “that the erection and setting up of the said gallows be not a precedent or example thereby hereafter to be taken, in hurt, prejudice, or derogation of the franchises, liberties, and privileges of the city.”
Richard the Third repaired the Tower, and Stow records a commission to Thomas Daniel, directing him to seize for use within this realm, as many masons, bricklayers, and other workmen, as should be thought necessary for the expedition of the king’s works within the Tower. In the twenty-third of Henry the Eighth, the whole of the fortress appears to have undergone repair — a survey being taken of its different buildings, which is still preserved in the Chapter-house at Westminster. In the second of Edward the Sixth, the following strange accident occurred, by which one of the fortifications was destroyed. A Frenchman, lodged in the Middle Tower, accidentally set fire to a barrel of gunpowder, which blew up the structure, fortunately without damage to any other than the luckless causer of it.
At the period of this chronicle, as at the present time, the Tower of London comprehended within its walls a superficies of rather more than twelve acres, and without the moat a circumference of three thousand feet and upwards. Consisting of a citadel or keep, surrounded by an inner and outer ward, it was approached on the west by an entrance called the Bulwark Gate, which has long since disappeared. The second entrance was formed by an embattled tower, called the Lion’s Gate, conducting to a strong tower flanked with bastions, and defended by a double portcullis, denominated the Middle Tower. The outworks adjoining these towers, in which was kept the menagerie, were surrounded by a smaller moat, communicating with the main ditch. A large drawbridge then led to another portal, in all respects resembling that last described, forming the principal entrance to the outer ward, and called the By-ward or Gate Tower. The outer ward was defended by a strong line of fortifications; and at the north-east corner stood a large circular bastion, called the Mount.
The inner ward, or ballium, was defended by thirteen towers, connected by an embattled stone wall about forty feet high and twelve feet thick, on the summit of which was a footway for the guard. Of these towers three were situated at the west, namely, the Bell, the Beauchamp, and the Devilin Towers; four at the north, the Flint, the Bowyer, the Brick, and the Martin Towers; three at the east, the Constable, the Broad Arrow, and Salt Towers; and three on the south, the Well, the Lanthorn, and the Bloody Tower. The Flint Tower has almost disappeared; the Bowyer Tower only retains its basement story; and the Brick Tower has been so much modernized as to retain little of its pristine character. The Martin Tower is now denominated the Jewel Tower, from the circumstance of its being the depository of the regalia. The Lanthorn Tower has been swept away with the old palace.
Returning to the outer ward, the principal fortification on the south was a large square structure, flanked at each angle by an embattled tower. This building, denominated St. Thomas’s or Traitor’s Tower, was erected across the moat, and masked a secret entrance from the Thames, through which state prisoners, as has before been related, were brought into the Tower. It still retains much of its original appearance, and recalls forcibly to the mind of the observer the dismal scenes that have occurred beneath its low-browed arches. Farther on the east, in a line with Traitor’s Tower, and terminating a wing of the old palace, stood the Cradle Tower. At the eastern angle of the outer ward was a small fortification overlooking the moat, known as the Tower leading to the Iron Gate. Beyond it a drawbridge crossed the moat, and led to the Iron Gate, a small portal protected by a tower, deriving its name from the purpose for which it was erected.
At this point, on the patch of ground intervening between the moat and the river, and forming the platform or wharf, stood a range of mean habitations, occupied by the different artisans and workmen employed in the fortress. At the south of the By-ward Tower, an arched and embattled gateway opened upon a drawbridge which crossed the moat at this point. Opposite this drawbridge were the main stairs leading to the edge of the river.
The whole of the fortress, it is scarcely necessary to repeat, was (and still is) encompassed by a broad deep moat, of much greater width at the sides next to Tower Hill and East Smithfield than at the south, and supplied with water from the Thames by the sluice beneath Traitor’s Gate.
Having now made a general circuit of the fortress we shall return to the inner ballium, which is approached on the south by a noble gateway, erected in the reign of Edward the Third. A fine specimen of the architecture of the fourteenth century, this portal is vaulted with groined arches adorned with exquisite tracery springing from grotesque heads. At the period of this chronicle, it was defended at each end by a massive gate clamped with iron, and a strong portcullis. The gate and portcullis at the southern extremity still exist, but those at the north have been removed. The structure above it was anciently called the Garden Tower; but subsequently acquired the appellation of the Bloody Tower, from having been the supposed scene of the murder of the youthful princes, sons of Edward the Fourth, by the ruthless Duke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard the Third. Without pausing to debate the truth of this tragical occurrence, it may be sufficient to mention that tradition assigns it to this building.
Proceeding along the ascent leading towards the green, and mounting a flight of stone steps on the left, we arrive in front of the ancient lodgings allotted to the lieutenant of the Tower. Chiefly constructed of timber, and erected at the beginning of the sixteenth century, this fabric has been so much altered that it retains little of its original character. In one of the rooms, called, from the circumstance, the Council-chamber, the conspirators concerned in the Gunpowder Plot were interrogated; and in memory of the event, a piece of sculpture, inscribed with their names, and with those of the commissioners by whom they were examined, has been placed against the walls.
Immediately behind the lieutenant’s lodgings stands the Bell Tower — a circular structure, surmounted by a small wooden turret containing the alarm-bell of the fortress. Its walls are of great thickness, and light is admitted through narrow loopholes. On the basement floor is a small chamber, with deeply-recessed windows, and a vaulted roof of very curious construction. This tower served as a place of imprisonment to John Fisher, the martyred Bishop of Rochester, beheaded on Tower Hill for denying Henry the Eighth’s supremacy; and to the Princess Elizabeth, who was confined within it by her sister, Queen Mary.
Traversing the green, some hundred and forty feet brings us to the Beauchamp, or Cobham Tower, connected with the Bell Tower by means of a footway on the top of the ballium wall. Erected in the reign of Henry the Third, as were most of the smaller towers of the fortress, this structure appears, from the numerous inscriptions, coats of arms, and devices that crowd its walls, to have been the principal state-prison. Every room, from roof to vault, is covered with melancholy memorials of its illustrious and unfortunate occupants.
Over the fireplace in the principal chamber (now used as a mess-room by the officers of the garrison) is the autograph of Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, beheaded in 1572, for aspiring to the hand of Mary Queen of Scots. On the right of the fireplace, at the entrance of a recess, are these words:—” DOLOR PATIENTIA VINCITUR. G. GYF- FORD. AUGUST 8, 1586.” Amongst others, for we can only give a few as a specimen of the rest, is the following enigmatical inscription. It is preceded by the date 1568, April 23, but is unaccompanied by any signature: —
No hope is hard or vayne
That happ doth ous attayne.
The next we shall select is dated 1581, and signed Thomas Myagh.
THOMAS MIAGH WHICH LIETHE HERE ALONE THAT FAYNE WOLD FROM HENCE BEGON BY TORTURE STRAUNGE MI TROVTH WAS TRYED YET OF MY LIBERTIE DENIED.
Of this unfortunate person the following interesting account is given by Mr. Jardine, in his valuable treatise on the Use of Torture in the Criminal Law of England. “Thomas Myagh was an Irishman, who was brought over by the command of the Lord Deputy of Ireland, to he examined respecting
a treasonable correspondence with the rebels in arms in that country. The first warrant for the torture of this man was probably under the sign-manual, as there is no entry of it in the council register. The two reports made by the Lieutenant of the Tower and Dr. Hammond, respecting their execution of this warrant, are, however, to be seen at the State-Paper Office. The first of these, which is dated the 10th of March 1580-1, states that they had twice examined Myagh, but had forborne to put him in Skevington’s irons, because they had been charged to examine him with secrecy, ‘which they could not do, that manner of dealing requiring the presence and aid of one of the jailers all the time that he should be in those irons,’ and also because they ‘found the man so resolute, as in their opinions little would be wrung out of him but by some sharper torture.’ The second report, which is dated the 17th of March, 1580, merely states that they had again examined Myagh, and could get nothing from him, ‘notwithstanding that they had made trial of him by the torture of Skevington’s irons, and with so much sharpness, as was in their judgment for the man and his cause convenient.’ How often Myagh was tortured does not appear; but Skevington’s irons seem to have been too mild a torture, for on the 30th of July 1581, there is an entry in the council books of an authority to the Lieutenant of the Tower and Thomas Norton, to deal with him with the rack in such sort as they should see cause.”
From many sentences expressive of the resignation of the sufferers, we take the following, subscribed A. POOLE, 1564:—” Deo. servire. penitentiam. inire. fato. obedire. regnare. est” Several inscriptions are left by this person — one four years later than the foregoing, is as follows: “A passage perillus maketh a port pleasant.”’‘ Here is another sad memento: “O MISER HVON, CUE PENSI OD ESSERO.” Another: “REPRENS LE: SAGE: ET: IL: TE: AIMERA: J. S. 1538.” A third: “Principium sapientice timor Domini, i. H. S. X. P. S. De friend to one. Be ennemye to none. Anno D. 1571, 10 Sept. The most unhappy man in the world is he that is not patient in adversities: For men are not killed with the adversities they have, but with the impatience they suffer. Tout vient apoient, quy peult attendre. Gli sospiri ne son testimoni veri dell’ angoscia mia. AET. 29. Charles Bailly.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 134