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A published guide counselled us to plan on 2–3 hours at the Tower of London.  We spent 5 hours there and could have easily spent more, had only my body not given up under me.

What’s The Tower of London?

I always imagined that the Tower of London was a tower, but in fact it’s a sprawling castle which includes numerous towers, each with its own name. (It would seem that you can’t trust everything that you see in video games. Thank you very much, VTM: Redemption.)

If there is any one tower that represents the Tower of London, however, it would be the White Tower.

The White Tower

The Tower of London started with William the Conquerer’s White Tower, which stands today as the hub of the Tower of London, rising singularly in centre of an expansive courtyard encircled by two concentric curtain walls of stone.

What are curtain walls? You might have seen them termed a ‘bailey’. They’re the exterior walls which form the courtyard about the keep. Get an impression of their scale in the picture below.

As a foreign conqueror, William the Bastard[1] stood in need of substantiating his power in the minds of native subjects, and construction of the White Tower (built 1078–1087) was one measure to that end.  (Recall that the Battle of Hastings (1066), which decided his victory over the English, took place 12 years prior to the start of the construction.)

The White Tower was begun just inside the south-east point of the city wall.  People approaching the town in the latter part of the 11^th century were to see the imposing White Tower rising above the city that they might fear their new king.

The outer of the two curtain walls admits boat access to the river through Traitor’s Gate on the south. Traitor’s Gate is so named because prisoners would be brought through it (not the main entrance) prior to their imprisonment or execution.

The White Tower is the oldest of the English (or French, if you will) edifices on the site, but the oldest construction of all is the remains of the Romain wall running along the east side of the White Tower. At the south end of these ruins, you can see the remains of an ancient Roman tower. (For reference, the Roman Age in England spanned AD 40–400.) London was, after all, a Roman establishment, known as ‘Londinium’ in olden times.

As you can see in the photo, the entrance to the tower is some 20 feet above ground level, so the wooden stairs could be burnt in order to render the place nearly impregnable.

The Royal Mint

From 1279 to 1809, the Tower of London housed the Royal Mint, of which Sir Isaac Newton held position of warden for the last 28 years of his life. The book Newton and the Counterfeiter details his efforts as Warden to thwart counterfeiting and coin clipping.

The White Tower today

The White Tower is a museum now, stuffed full of ancient armour and arms, placards, coins from the Royal Mint, etc. It will take you at least the better part of an hour to get through, even if a glance is all you afford anything.

The crown jewels

The Waterloo Barracks, on the north side of the courtyard, house the crown jewels. Whether going to a Alexandria Archaeology Museum or the Hard Rock Café, we’re skeptical: are we seeing the real thing or a replica with a placard claiming to be the real thing?[2]  The audio tour addresses the question and asserts that the jewels on display are in fact bona fide. It directs the listener’s attention to the foot-thick steel doors for their corroboration.

The ‘crown jewels’ exhibit holds a great deal more than those accoutrements associated with coronations; it begins with an exhibit of the evolution of the English coat of arms across the modern dynasties.  Beyond that are jewels, plate, and garments which are truly worth beholding, marvellous works for craftsmanship as well as opulence.

The coronation crowns of several hundred years of monarchs are preserved in a long display case with a moving sidewalk on either side.

Other works in the Tower of London

As you can see in the model, there are many edifices besides those I mentioned.  The map (not shown here) enumerates about 30. I suppose we observed more than half of them, but always had to move along more quickly than one would like, owing to my own inability to spend as long as I pleased going afoot.

Constructions date across the last thousand years and include histories which I enjoyed but haven’t the capacity to relate (get the electronic audio tour).

A few of the interior buildings and also some repairs on one of the curtain walls (see photo), made use of red bricks, not stone.

My review

The Tower of London was fabulous. I am amazed at how well preserved it is. It felt much like stepping into a story book—even in terms of scale. I scarcely imagined that the castle would be so enormous, much less that the 11^th century White Tower could be so large and tall as it was.

Do visit the Tower of London. And if you care to read the placards and listen to the audio tour (or follow a docent about for live tour), then plan on spending much more than 2–3 hours. Bring a water bottle and hope for clear skies.

Our third church service of Sunday, 10 Aug was at St Martin-in-the-Fields.

Unlike Westminster, the interior was painted—and white; add in the grand windows, and it was quite bright in there.  Imagine travelling from a tenebrous and mysterious stone castle whose ceiling itself is nearly lost in shadow to this bright, white worship hall.  Each is lovely for its own merits.

We visited St Martin-in-the-Fields for the sake of hearing the choristers, but I didn’t enjoy the music nearly as much as that at Westminster.  (Often, churches have visiting choirs performing, but this was not the case at any of the three services we attended this day, so if you’re trying to size of choirs based on my appreciation of them, make sure you remember this.)

The acoustics of the place were nice, and there was a lovely pipe organ in the balcony rearward.  The singing  didn’t hold my interest, though.  It was good, of course, but not so tight as to make me stand up and take notice, neither were the arrangements very exciting to me.

Who was St Martin in the Fields?

I assumed the name of the church meant that it would be a church among fields, dedicated to a saint named Martin.  Luther set me straight on the matter: ‘in the fields’ is an appelative phrase for distinguish

ing the St Martin in question (not designating the church).[1]  The Martin in question appears to be St Martin of Tours, whom I don’t see referenced as St Martin-in-the-fields anywhere except in the name of this very church.

The St Martin-in-the-Fields church

The earliest reference to a church on the site of present-day St Martin-in-the-Fields dates to 1222, but the church currently occupying the site was completed in 1726 (so it predates the revival of interest in St Martin of Tours, occassioned by the rediscovery of his tomb at Tours in 1860).

The church claims to be (or have instigated) the first free lending library in London and the first religious broadcast.

St James Park

After the service, we made our way across Trafalgar square to St James Park, where we had a good picnic.

Ah, but isn’t picnicking a worthy pursuit?  It surely demands that we speak to one another; and the mundane, bandying of words in which we tend to engage daily just won’t do in such a setting.  One is induced to really hold thoughtful conversation—unless the weather be so muggy that one is induced, rather, into stupor.

I tried to draw the others into reading together, but Cait would have none of it, so we ate and conversed, and every time that the inquisitive squirrel tried to insinuate himself, Dad chased him away (though we admonished him to leave well enough alone).

After Sung Eucharist at Westminster Abbey, we hurried off to South Kensington Station for the LDS church meeting with the Hyde Park Ward.

It’s a small world for Mormons

We had white shirts and ties but were hardly in our usual Sunday best, nevertheless, upon exiting the station, I made eye contact with a couple of young Germans who were dressed for Sunday and somehow recognized us for a party of LDS, one of whom made in inquisitive look.  “Are you looking for the LDS church?” I asked, and indeed they were—but in doubt for directions—so the eight of us proceeded together to the ward house.

The majority of the ward was… expatriots!  Surprise!  (That’s my synonym for ‘immigrants’.)

The services were nice, rather more religious than the sermon at Westminster.  I was surprised at how large the congregation was.  (Perhaps seemed so because I’ve been routinely attending wards in the suburbs for so long.)

It’s small world for Mormons, after all

In Sacrament Meeting, Luther and I sat behind someone who recognized myself from my time in the Granite Bay ward.  What a thing!  On top of that, In Sunday School, I recognized a former classmate of mine from BYU.

There’s a disputed theory that everyone is three steps from Kevin Bacon.  In LDS circles, a similar claim asserts that every church member is at most three steps away from every other LDS church member.  (Remarkable if true, since it’s a worldwide church with membership exceeding 14 million[1], but it’s definitely possible, what with the perpetual diaspora of full-time missionaries across national and linguistic boundaries.)

Another remarkable claim: Luther said it was only his first time ever not knowing anyone at church, including his two years as a missionary in New York.

Sunday morning, we visited Westminster Abbey for Sung Eucharist, scheduled for 11:15.

Westminster Abbey is a grand, gothic edifice, and I found its architecture, music, and sculpture a garden of empyrean delights, the music most of all.

We were obliged to leave the service before it was complete, shortly into the imparting of the sacraments.  Given our position, we thought it least obtrusive to make our exit through the nearest egress (at the south transept).  We got out of the building alright, but found that the gate beyond was locked, so we took advantage of a narrow slot between the abbey wall and the iron fence about it.  Being of narrow frame every one of us, we slipped from the locked yard into an adjacent one and exited through the usual gate.  In the photo, you can see Brad turned sideways to negotiate the passage (which would not have been so narrow, except for a bent iron bar which extended from the stone wall toward the gate.)

The Choristers

The singers were tightly on key and raised harmonies that infused life into the brain and magic into the blood.  The all-stone construction created a strong reverb to give the music a very ethereal, haunting effect.  Remarkably, I did not find that the effect to diminish the experience but rather found it highly pleasing.

My impression of the Westminster choristers contrasts strongly with my experience with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in the LDS Conference Center, which also makes use of a strong reverb; the latter has always sounds like a loud, atonal whisper, which always makes the music merely less distinct to my ears, cloaking merit and error alike.  Unpleasant to my taste for as long as I’ve been alive.

The rest of my party preferred the music we heard later that day at St. Martin in the Field church.  I can’t say why.

Poet’s corner

We had the good fortune to be seated in Poet’s corner.  A bust of William Blake occupied a commanding position partway up a load-bearing column ahead of us.  During our exit, I observed the resting places of the corporeal remains of Geoffrey Chaucer and Edmund Spenser.  Against the west wall were an abundance of masterful likenesses and scenes in relief.  Ah, to have had longer there.

The architecture

Gothic architecture is notable not only for it’s ornament, sharp angles, and aspiring height (and concomitant flying buttresses) but for the light interiors (permitted by grand and often ornamental windows).  Or so the art history texts instructed me.  Because I was expecting light interiors, I found the inside of gothic constructions suprisingly dark.  I suppose they might have been marginally brighter than the Norman age constructions we visited, but not noteably so.  (My recollection of York Minster is that it was considerably brighter than Westminster.)  What was noteable (to me) is that there was electric lighting in the church, though dim and unobtrusive.

All to the better, really; the darkness contributed to a really priceless atmosphere of wonder.

The photograph here gives you an idea of the scale of the building and the multitude of windows.  (That’s our 6’+ bodies standing on the left.)

The service

The cloth gave a really fine sermon about forgiveness.  It was really well delivered and entailed a truly interesting history.  Nevertheless, it struck me as rather humanist, which I suppose is not uncommon in today’s Christian churches, that is, something along the lines of, “We must and can do good and difficult things,” but without mention of relying on God for his saving or strengthening power.

In contrast, the liturgies contained language of religion in addition to philosophy.

Topmost snap of Westminster Abbey obtained from Wikimedia commons: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Westminster_Abbey.jpg. Licensed under GNU Free Documentation License.