Chapter 27: The End: The Tower & Madame Tussauds

I have decided to come to see the Tower of London, maybe because my friends from Canada had recommended it, or because it is one of the most visited sites in London. Or perhaps because it is one of the places I visited in 1965. In September we had walked from the Tower Wharf up Tower Hill, a wide plaza since 2003.

I park the car at the Bicester North Station and take the 60-minute ride into Marylebone Station. I am becoming more familiar with the trains and with ways of getting around London. This time, having seen a note on my pocket travel map, I know it is actually faster to walk from the train station to Baker Street, where I pick up the Underground Circle line to Tower Hill. (Also, I want to “scope out” Madame Tussauds, as I have an idea that I could visit the wax museum before I board a return train home.)

Speaking of “home”, I fly back to Canada on Saturday, so this is my last bit of tourism for 2008!

There is a delay on the Circle line because of a “London Fire Brigade investigation” so it is 11:15 before I exit Tower Hill Underground Station, next to the segment of Roman Wall still standing. I pause here only for a moment: I am not all that interested in the Romans, but I do remember that old Jack Marriott gave me a Roman coin that he was given as a boy in 1899, found on the banks of the Thames.

I read that a good visit to the Tower of London requires three hours: I have the time. It is December 10th and a lovely outdoor ice rink has been set up on the grass in what was once the moat.
Looking up Tower Hill, towards the information and ticket kiosks at the edge of the plaza. The Tower is a UN World Heritage Site. In the background is the Swiss Gherkin, which will never get Heritage status--it is just a pickle!
One enters the Tower of London through these gates, which were once a pumphouse.

I watch the skaters and consider the trebuchet as I wait for the 60-minute guided tour given by a “Beefeater”, one of the Yeoman Warders who guard the Tower and perform other services, such as tours. Famous for their bright red uniforms, at first I am disappointed that they only wear the dress uniforms on ceremonial occasions, wearing a winter “undress” uniform, emblazoned with a royal cypher.

There are 36 Yeoman Warders, whose fame is perhaps greater than their function. Not to disparage them, but mostly they are tour guides in `fancy dress`.

The Warder arrives and the tour begins. He is really a performer—loud and blustery and full of fun. It is a bright, sunny winter’s day, somewhat cold, but quite pleasant. We are a large group—the Tower is full of tourists even in December.

Our Warder reminds us about qualifications for being a Beefeater—he says no one knows where the term originated, but that he is not a vegetarian—and these include 19-22 years of military service, with the medal of long service and good conduct, plus the rank of at least sergeant-major.

After an entertaining presentation in The Chapel Royal of St. Peter ad Vincula—where we learn all about the executions of the ten who were executed on the peaceful greensward called the Tower Green. These included Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry VIII, and his fifth wife, Catherine Howard, both accused of adultery. The saddest story was that of Lady Jane Grey, Queen for nine days, who was just 17 when she was beheaded. The most gruesome was of Margaret Pole, the 70-year-old Countess of Salisbury, executed by Henry VIII for her supposed involvement in a Catholic invasion. An inept executioner had to chase her around the Green, while he “hacked her head and shoulders to bits.” These three are all buried in the Chapel, along with many others, including the saints Thomas More and John Fisher, executed on Tower Hill, the public place for dispatching prisoners.

The Warder who guides us directs our attention to the Tower Green, famous for the ten beheadings that happened here. The new memorial was unveiled in 2006, and the Warder dismisses the ultra-modern memorial by asking us, “Isn’t resin just another name for PLASTIC?” But all the web sites say it is really made of glass, and although incongruous in the setting of an ancient fortress, who says the Tower of London must remain static forever; it has been altered and added to for hundreds of years.

The artist and designer has said the following about his creation:

“I wanted to make people walk around the piece,” said Brian Catling. “Before, people would come and stand in front of the small plaque that used to be here – they just stood and didn’t know what to do so I thought: 'let’s give them something to do', they now have to walk around it to read the poem – they have to engage with it.”
“None of the names on here are really traitors,” added Brian. “Monuments are usually to people who have died in a war or a battle, this is different. You can’t really illustrate the brutal acts of dying that took place here but this I hope is a way of suggesting it.”

Comprising two engraved circles with a glass-sculpted pillow at its centre, the larger circle of dark stone bears a poem - written by the artist - around its rim, whilst the upper glass circle bears the engraved names of the ten famous and not-so-famous individuals executed in front of the Chapel Royal.

Gentle visitor pause a while

where you stand death cut away the light of many days

here jewelled names were broken from the vivid thread of life

may they rest in peace while we walk the generations around their strife and courage

under these restless skies

The Beefeater performing for the tourists--behind is the Chapel and to the right is the Wellington Barracks.

After the guided tour, I immediately go to see the Crown Jewels now protected under high security in the Barracks. (This first confuses me: when I saw the Coronation Regalia in 1965 they were in a tower, but then I learn that they were moved to the present site in 1967, from the Wakefield Tower, where they had been since 1870.) Below, a sentry outside the Jewel House, probably more symbolic than a deterrent, but his weapon looks capable enough. Mostly, a flock of schoolgirls are oohing and ahhing over him!
The Crown Jewels and Coronation Regalia are spectacular in their beauty. One travels past them on a moving walkway, so I make the “trip” twice to get a good look. Everything is impressive, but I am awed by the dazzling St. Edward’s Crown (1661)—with which Elizabeth II was crowned in 1953—and the Imperial Crown (1937)—which she normally wears at the State Opening of Parliament (which I watched on the BBC a week ago). I guess I must like gems, and I am not disappointed by the 530-carat Cullinan I (the First Star of India), the Koh-i-noor diamond from India, the legendary Stuart Sapphire and the Black Prince’s Ruby. These last two are on the Imperial Crown, with 2,868 diamonds, 17 sapphires, 11 emeralds, 5 rubies, and 273 pearls! Also on display are the Supertunica (1911) and Mantle, worn at Coronations, dishes used at the Coronation Banquets (no longer held), and even, separately, gold baptismal or christening fonts. Much of the collection is not pure gold—although some pieces are—but is rather solid silver covered with a thin layer of gold. Much of it was made in 1661 after the restoration of the monarchy—earlier pieces had been destroyed during the Commonwealth period. Sir Robert Vyner, Charles II’s goldsmith, needed three tons of silver to re-stock the Jewel House!

After a rather mediocre lunch in the New Armouries Café, I begin to tour the White Tower, created by William the Conqueror, beginning in 1075-1079 and completed by William Rufus in about 1100.

First a fortress, then a location for ceremonial uses by the king, but mostly a symbol of the Norman king’s authority, The White Tower (once the tallest building in London) is very symbolic of nationhood. But from the 14th until the 19th century, the main use of the White Tower was as a military storehouse. Therefore, what I mostly see inside is displays of armaments and armour, not my “cup of tea” but nevertheless interesting.

But lack of interest in not my main concern: for some reason I seem to have lost the key to my son-in-law’s Saturn, parked back in Bicester. I hurriedly check all my pockets and empty my carrying bag—no key. I sit down on a bench and very carefully go through everything again, and again. No key. I know there is nothing to be done, that maybe Steve has a spare key, but it stresses me, and I find I cannot enjoy things as I wanted to.

I do like the plain but beautiful St. John’s Chapel, called one of the most “elegant and best-preserved examples of Anglo-Norman church interiors in existence.” It is under the stairwell here that the skeletons of two young boys were found in 1674. Charles II and most others believed they were of the two princes--the 12-year-old Edward V and his brother, Richard--murdered by their uncle who became Richard III when the boy king disappeared. Further forensic study in 1933 confirmed the remains to be the exact ages of the missing sons, whose bodies are now interred in Westminster Abbey.

I make a few more stops—the Bloody Tower and its legend of the murders of the Princes——and wander about the grounds—but I am fretting too much. (Later, back home, having found the key in my jacket pocket as I rode the train away from London, I regret I did not spend more time in the Bloody Tower—the only other site I had visited in 1965—and did not go into the Medieval Palace or take a walk on the East Wall.)

Another time, if I am less stressed, I shall wander over and see Tower Bridge close up!

In the photo you see the Lanthorne Tower (left), the old Wall of the Inmost Ward (foreground) and the Wakefield and the Bloody Towers. (Plus the Tower Bridge.)

Centre, past the tree, are the Wakefield Tower and the Bloody Tower.

In the Bloody Tower is the prison in which Sir Walter Raleigh lived: obviously, some prisoners had less uncomfortable accommodations than others!

The Ravens, of which there are six, plus one spare, are legendary in the Tower of London. The story is that if the Ravens leave, the Tower of London will fall down.

The Ravens are kept in cages until they become acclimatized to the weather and the crowds.

The birds are clipped, given names, fed royally, and are well loved. I wonder if the process for becoming a Tower Raven is as complex as that of becoming a Yeoman Warder! The guidebook tells me that some Ravens “do in fact go absent without leave and others have had to be sacked. Raven George was dismissed for eating television aerials and Grog was last seen outside an East London Pub.”

The Tower of London once housed the Royal Family, but they live in less austere quarters now. Here is the Queen’s House, sentry and all. The Yeoman Warder tells us the Queen has only stayed here once in her lifetime! Most of the housing in the Tower of London is occupied by the Warders and their families, who must live here, but have another home elsewhere to return to when they retire.

Another view from the archway between Wakefield Tower and Henry’s Watergate, looking up Water Lane, land reclaimed from the Thames by Edward I.

Built by Edward I between 1275 and 1279, and restored in the 1870s, the tower is a grand watergate, with residential accommodation above.

Below St. Thomas’s Tower is the infamous Traitors’ Gate, supposedly the entrance where prisoners accused of treason arrived at the Tower. It was through here that Anne Boleyn, Sir Thomas More and Elizabeth I were brought to the prison.
The Gate photographed earlier, from the Thames, when we docked here in September.

Lots of money is spent on restoration and preservation of the buildings. One of the curious problems those who maintain the Tower must deal with is rucksack damage. In many places, especially circular staircases, there is what is called the rucksack zone, a shoulder height area where visitors with backpacks scrape against the walls. The soft Reigate stone cannot take the abrasion and wears badly from the backpacks. In some cases, metal shields have had to be installed to save the stonework. We had the same problem in our school, where students gouged walls and wood panels unintentionally with their school packs.

This 24 Pounder brass gun and iron carriage weighs 5.5 tons, and was likely made in 1607 in the Low Countries, commissioned by the Knights of Malta. It is richly decorated with emblems and symbols of the order reflecting their religious and humanitarian roles. It was brought to England in 1800 and was at Woolwich until 1962.
A final look at the Tower Bridge from the bank of the River Thames. It seems that it is being wrapped up for Christmas, or the winter!

A final gift shop visit at one of the souvenir shops, and then back to Tower Hill Underground, and back to Baker Street. I think about Sherlock Holmes, and then see him! I do not have time for the great detective. But I have calmed enough to go into Madame Tussauds, despite the admission fee of $50 Canadian!

There is no queue but the attractions are full of people. I recall as a teen that we could not dream of touching the wax figures, but that has changed, and it was difficult to see some of the figures, what with people climbing all over them.

I recognize Kate Moss--I wish--and take her photo with some other fashionistas!

“Earl Grey. Hot!”

One really does seem to mingle with the celebrities! Stars, like Nicolle Kidman, are quite popular. Madame Tussauds is well decorated for Christmas.

Sometimes, I cannot tell who is real and who is not. At first I think this gal with the pom poms is part of the display. Until she walks away.

I feel right at home--and I do not refer to his pate! No one else seems even to be looking at William Shakespeare.

Or Oscar Wilde!

Some fellows from Liverpool, but John and George do not look right to me. In fact, many of the figures look like they are made of wax!

Standing next to Hitler is Sir Winston Churchill. No one is being photographed with Winston, but there is a line-up to pose with Adolph Hitler.

Most of the younger crowd present have no idea who this is, but this is one wax figure I remember from 1965--although the First Lady is no longer on display.

Wellington and Napoleon, as if it is not obvious.

Typical of most scenes: people being photographed with their idols.

The detail in a Tussaud figure is very evident in the image of Fidel Castro.

As soon as Sammy saw this photo, he said, “That’s my President!” Others are no so positive. I see one man being photographed with both hands around President Bush’s neck, throttling him, and one other has his hand in front of George W’s face, flipping him the bird! Obama is not on display yet.

There is a whole Andy Warhol section; it is quite odd that he is so popular in the UK, in my mind.

Madame Tussaud herself, quite a cutie, just my speed!

I avoid the other troglodytes and do not head Underground, but decide to walk to Marylebone Station, to get home to solve the car key problem!

Phone Boxes on Balcome Road--hey, I live on Balcom Drive--in front of Marylebone.

My train station: I have been in and out of here a dozen times, and think I recognize it now.

As I board the train I notice this promotional poster, and wonder if my Tessa still likes Axel Rose, or ever did!

I fret and stare at the moon in the darkness on the train trip back to Bicester North, only relieved, and feeling quite dumb, when I find the missing car key, in a previously empty pocket.

These, my travel blogs are ended. My daughter joked that I could write a blog about my next trip to Halifax, back home. Perhaps I shall begin again in the spring of 2009, if, as I hope, all goes well, and I come back to the UK and London. I still intend to go to Belfast--maybe Paris--and I have not yet visited the East End in London, or seen Buckingham Palace, and some of the museums. I wanted to see a performance at the Globe, but David Tennant is undergoing back surgery and has dropped out of the London run of Hamlet. (I think he injured himself filming the final episodes of Dr. Who.) I must see the Lake District. And, of course, work on the UK updates for my book on Jack Marriott.

Farewell, at least for now, faithful reader.