460 – The White Tower
It’s one of the most famous landmarks in the world. The White Tower, or more recently, the Tower of London. If you’ve visited London you likely took time to go see it.
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Welcome to the British History Podcast.
My name is Jamie and this is episode 460, The White Tower.
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It's one of the most famous landmarks in the world.
The White Tower, or more recently, the Tower of London.
If you've visited London, you've likely taken time to go see it.
And these days, it's famous for the Ravens and the Beefeaters and for some really unfortunate family dynamics.
But despite its modern association with the Tudors, the White Tower wasn't Henry VIII's castle, at least not at first.
It was William's, and its story began, predictably, with the Norman Conquest.
Shortly after the Battle of Hastings, two Norman fortresses were constructed in London.
One was erected prior to William even entering the ancient city, and the other was constructed shortly after his coronation as king.
Both of the fortifications would have been made in the standard style of the Norman Motton Bailey Castle, and both of them would have been military hard points for these occupiers in the heart of southern England.
The Normans used these castles for lodging and logistics, and, in the event of any sort of local uprising, they would become the center for defense.
Essentially, by plonking these things in London, William was digging himself into the English political and economic world, permanently.
Now, one of these castles was constructed in the west end, next to the Thames, and that one would come to be known as Baynard's Castle.
The other was placed next to the old Roman walls, taking advantage of what remained of the previous invaders' defenses.
And so the Normans tucked this castle into the southeastern corner of the Roman city limits, right next to the bend in the wall.
And you can actually still see some of those walls when you visit the tower today.
And this site also was sitting on the banks of the Thames, which gave the castle's south end both protection and also an escape route.
Now, given that these castles were being constructed back when England was still very much in a rebellious mood, with one being built before William's coronation and the other shortly afterwards, the builders, as is the case with pretty much all of the Norman Montenbailey-style castles, were prioritizing speed.
They wanted to get them up fast, and that meant that, like most of the castles from this period, they were constructed out of wood.
Though, in the case of that second castle, those Roman walls were a real boon.
They were sturdy, they were tall, and best of all, they were already standing.
And consequently, the Normans broke with tradition for that castle and ditched the full standard Mott and Bailey style, and instead just built a ditch and a rampart on two sides and used the old Roman walls on the other two sides.
And then, you know, placed their keep on the top of a mot.
And that's actually how it remained for about a decade.
Because this hulking mass of wood and Roman stone was doing what it was designed to do.
It intimidated the bejesus out of the local population, which, you know, was precisely what William needed at this point.
William's empire wasn't being built on empty land, and the people living in England weren't all that thrilled with his presence.
And even the construction of the castles themselves were making him a few enemies.
I mean, there were homes there, or at least there had been homes there before the Normans decided to build their castles.
And nothing about the conquest suggests that William would have been all that interested in compensating the English who had their homes destroyed because he wanted to build a couple forts.
So that only would have added to the rebellious mood.
And as you know by now, this ruling style had mixed success, as William's reign was basically one long string of rebellions.
But by 1077,
his position in England was beginning to stabilize.
He defeated the invasions from Scotland and Scandinavia.
He defeated Haroward the Wake.
He defeated the revolt of the Earls.
And sure, he was right on the cusp of another rebellion that would be run by his own son, due in part to William's other two sons peeing on him, but that was in the future.
For right now in 1077, basically for the first time in his reign, William had the time, the stability, and the accumulated wealth to tackle some other projects.
And he wanted a more permanent position in London.
Something that would project his power and influence.
Something that would show the world he was who he thought he was.
Because remember, William had begun his life as a bastard.
It was even his nickname.
But then he became duke.
And then he became king.
And in many ways, at this point, he was styling himself as an emperor.
And with those kinds of ambitions, a wooden mott and bailey castle just wasn't going to do.
Militarily, necessity was calling for a fortress.
But politically, William's ambitions were calling for a palace.
So why not have both?
And William knew just the guy who could do it.
You see, there was this clerk who was something of an architectural genius.
His name was Gundulf, and he was well known around the continent for his skill at designing churches and castles.
And as luck would have it, he was currently in England.
You see, Gundulf had been a protege of Lanfrank and had served under him back at Conn.
And when Lanfrank was installed as the Archbishop of Canterbury, he brought his retinue with him, and Gundulf was part of that crew.
Why?
Well, Landfrank wanted him to spruce up his new cathedral in Canterbury, naturally.
Though it is possible that Landfrank may have grown to regret this, as Gundulf wasn't just famous for his talents with architecture, he also, like many gifted people, came with an extremely difficult personality.
Gundulf had a reputation for being emotionally unstable, unpredictable, and prone to outbursts.
So much so, in fact, that he acquired a nickname during his time in Khan,
the Wailing Monk.
Essentially, this guy was to architecture what Stanley Kubrick was to film.
Will he produce amazing art?
Yes.
Will he drive his collaborators and underlings into psychotic breaks?
Also, yes.
And this is the guy who had been tasked with expanding Canterbury for the last seven years.
So I have to imagine that the poor monks of Canterbury, rather than living in quiet contemplation of the Lord, have been instead quietly contemplating how to avoid being in the same room as Gundulf.
But then a miracle happened.
William wanted an architect.
And he'd been impressed by all the work that had been done recently over at Canterbury.
And so he was wondering if Lanfrank's guy might be interested in taking on a new project.
Thank you, Jesus.
A messenger was quickly sent, informing Gundulf of William's proposal.
He, the King of England, wanted Gundulf to design him an enormous castle, one that would rival even the most impressive castles on the continent.
It was a massive honor.
And the man who was asking him to undertake this job also just so happened to be one of the most dangerous men in all of Europe.
So it was quite a pitch.
And it wasn't long before a messenger returned with Gundulf's answer.
Hard pass.
What?
The actual f.
Now, I'm guessing that the only person who wasn't surprised by Gundulf's answer was Lanfrank, because he would have been in the best position to know both the temperament of the wailing monk and also his newfound piety.
Like, not normal piety.
We're talking about industrial strength piety.
Gundulf didn't do things by half measures.
This guy was apparently intense about everything.
And now that he was in his mid-50s, he was starting to think pretty seriously about what was going to be written in those last couple paragraphs of St.
Peter's book.
Because yeah, Gundulf was studying for his finals.
Which means these days he was trying to adjust his behavior in ways that might appeal to a peace-loving carpenter's son, or at least to his jealous cosmic dad.
And a giant f ⁇ off castle that was intended to terrify an occupied population for the purpose of an earthly noble probably wasn't high on the list of things that would glorify God.
So, Gundulf informed William that he'd retired from the castle-making business, and he was only interested in working on ecclesiastical buildings.
And then, I assume, he thanked the king for his interest and wished him the best of luck in his future endeavors.
Now, this obviously wasn't going to work for William.
He wanted his castle built, and he wanted Gundulf to be the one to do it.
And when William was faced with opposition of any kind, he typically only had two tools in his toolbox.
The first tool was violence, obviously.
But even small amounts of violence wasn't gonna work here for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which being that Christian history is absolutely stuffed with pious people with intense personalities who, when faced with shocking levels of violence, double down and get a martyrdom out of the deal.
So, William was forced to resort to the second tool, bribery.
If Gundulf was really concerned with getting in good with God, then he might want to set his sights a bit higher than being a lowly clerk.
You know what would get Big Jay's attention?
A flashy title, like bishop.
No one's gonna send a bishop to hell.
That would just look bad for everyone.
And as luck would have it, the bishop of Rochester had just died.
So, uh, how would you like to be the new bishop of Rochester?
Gundulf considered the king's offer and passed.
God
fing damn it.
Fine, I'll spice it up.
You want to focus on religious buildings?
Yeah?
Well, I heard the cathedral at Rochester was in dire need of work.
So, um, I'll tell you what.
I'll make you the bishop of Rochester, and once you start working on my castle, I'll give you the funds to rebuild the cathedral.
The Wailing Monk considered this offer, and he finally accepted.
Gundulf was then ordained as the Bishop of Rochester in 1077, and I assume the liturgies in Rochester got quite a bit more colorful as a result.
He also set to work planning the construction of the king's new castle.
The designs called for a square castle.
At each corner would be a pepper pot pot turret.
Three of these turrets would be square, but the one in the northeastern corner would be round, which would allow it to have a spiral staircase for quick transport between the floors.
Interestingly, these designs shared a lot in common with a castle at Ivry-la-Bataille in Normandy.
Now this castle was built almost 100 years earlier at the turn of the millennium, and it was one of the earliest examples of a stone keep.
In fact, these designs were were so similar that it's actually been argued that Gundulf may have drawn his designs directly from Ivry Labatai.
And if that's true, it would actually be a hell of a twist, because according to Orderic, the design for that first castle was so formidable that its architect was beheaded in order to ensure that it would never be replicated by any of the noble's rivals.
If true, that's a ruthless plan.
But it was also a plan that seems to have actually worked worked for nearly 100 years.
But thanks to Gundulf's efforts, that was all about to change.
William's construction project was the starting pistol for a whole new architectural era.
One where stone keeps would become a common sight in both the British and the European landscape.
But speaking of that project, Let's get back to the plans.
Gundulf's plans also called for this castle to have three floors.
And And right now, some of you are reaching for pause so you can write me an email telling me that the White Tower actually has four floors.
And yeah, it does.
However, that was not part of the original plan.
Nor was it part of the original castle.
The White Tower's fourth floor was added in the late 15th century.
Originally, the roof was actually one story lower, sitting at approximately the floor level of what's now the fourth floor.
We've even found remnants of drains on the current fourth floor, which were likely used by the original third floor roof to get rid of water that was collecting up there.
So, three floors, not four,
and what is now the mural gallery were actually walls that were originally open to the elements.
Now, to begin the construction, the builders would have created a foundation out of chalk and flint.
And then they sank a well into that foundation, which could be reached from the bottom floor in order to provide the inhabitants with an internal source of water in the extremely likely event of a siege.
Now, as for that bottom floor, it would be a half story underground, which would serve as an undercroft or basement for the castle.
As it was half buried, this floor was very poorly lit, being lit only by small slits in the walls or by whatever light source someone brought with them.
It was also very inconvenient to access, being that it had no direct access from the outside and could only be reached from the interior of the castle.
And this is because the undercroft was only intended to be used for food and armament storage, though in later years it would be repurposed into a dungeon and torture chamber.
And then still later, it would be repurposed again.
into a gift shop.
But originally, this was basically just a cellar.
The next floor up was the main ground floor.
Though ground floor is a bit misleading, as it actually sits about a half story above the actual ground.
And this was on purpose, because it ensured that the only entry to the castle was up, and it had to be reached by a staircase.
So, oddly, it's kind of similar to the way many American craftsman-style houses are constructed.
Though, in the case of the tower, this was done for defensive purposes, as that wooden staircase could be easily removed in the event of a siege, and thus make life a lot harder for the attacking force.
But speaking of attacking, if you think that maybe sneaking in rather than a direct assault would be your best bet at attacking this castle, you might want to think again, because that main floor was housing the tower's garrison.
Meaning that as soon as you walked in, you would be immediately surrounded by a bunch of heavily armed horsebros.
And this main floor, the horsebro floor, consisted of three rooms.
There was a dormitory where the garrison could rest.
There was a refectory where the garrison could eat, gather, and relax.
And then, perhaps once again highlighting the interests of the chief architect, the third room housed a chapel.
arguably the prettiest part of the building.
And this chapel actually reached up into the floor above it.
Now, I've read people refer to it as a small chapel, but considering the footprint it takes up in the tower, I'd say it's actually a pretty damn big chapel.
As for amenities, Gundulf's plans called for the two primary floors of the castle to have all the modern conveniences.
So this main floor had small windows to let in natural light.
The dormitory and refractory also had their own fireplaces.
Though interestingly, despite those tall ceilings, the chapel didn't have its own fireplace.
So I suppose the chapel just had to be heated by the fires of faith.
But while windows and fires are nice, the big convenience was the fact that there were latrines built directly into the wall on both the main and the second floor.
Now these were small stone rooms fitted with a seat and a hole, which might not seem fancy, but the fact was, with these things, you didn't need to leave the castle or use buckets.
Instead, when nature called, you could just pop into the latrine, do your business, and then it would drop down into the underground cesspits.
Nice and civilized.
However, those cesspits would need to be periodically emptied by a set of workers who had the absolute worst medieval job available.
And they were known as the Night Soilmen.
But there you go.
That's the the general gist of the main floor.
Climbing up the stairs would take you to the second floor, the fancy floor.
This one was intended to house the tower's constable, as well as any important guests of the tower.
And granted, later on, it would house highly ranked prisoners, but that wasn't part of the original plan.
Now this second floor shares a lot in common with the main floor.
Once again, it consisted of three rooms, or, well, two two rooms, because the third room was just basically open air, accommodating the chapel's tall ceilings.
But the two rooms on the second floor basically followed the medieval estate model.
There was a large room, a hall, for gatherings and public functions, and then a smaller room, the chambers, that was for private use for the highly ranked figures who were living on that floor.
Now this floor, like the one below it, had fireplaces, latrines, and windows, and the windows on this floor were larger.
And both the hall and the chambers were designed to open directly into the chapel.
I assume so the constable or the noble who was living on that floor would always be able to listen to mass or other religious services directly from their room.
So, that's the general layout.
But I want to be absolutely clear here.
Despite the chapel and all the fancy lose, Gundolf had done precisely what the king had asked him to do.
He had designed a massive, intimidating building.
Once finished, the castle would stand at 107 feet by 118 feet, and it would be about 90 feet tall with walls that were up to 13 feet thick.
Now, these days, in the era of skyscrapers, that doesn't sound very big.
I mean, my own neighborhood has apartment buildings bigger than that.
But for the 11th century, this thing was massive.
In fact, Gundulf's plans ensured that William's new castle would be taller than every single building in London, save one.
Can you guess what it was?
I'll give you a hint.
Gundulf had gotten really pious in his later years.
St.
Paul's.
The only building bigger than William's planned castle was God's own house.
And actually, St.
Paul's would continue to be the only building taller than the tower until the 1800s.
Needless to say, William was satisfied and he approved the plans.
And a site for construction was quickly selected.
The new castle would be built right on the same spot as that Motten Bailey they'd built next to the old Roman wall.
And that makes perfect sense.
This location was economical as it would allow for the use of existing walls on two sides of the Bailey.
And it was also in a similar position as William's fortress at Rouen, occupying a commanding position on the banks of the river, ensuring that it could be seen by any ships traveling into London.
He was going for maximum intimidation effect.
With the site selected, Construction began shortly afterwards.
And it began perhaps as early as 1078.
Though based on tree ring evidence, we know the construction had definitely begun by 1081.
Now, this would have required a massive work site and also a huge amount of material and labor.
So, Kentish ragstone was brought in for the infill, and orders were sent to Khan, importing large amounts of its local marble, a stone that had a prized pale color that would be then used for the exterior of the building, creating a blazingly white tower that would stand out like a beacon in the city of London.
And so, while all of this courtly drama and political intrigue and various rebellions were just boiling across the island, at the same time as all of that, over in London, there was this construction site where laborers were hard at work constructing William's castle.
And building something of this scale takes time, a lot of time.
Consequently, William didn't live to see the completion of the project.
But despite the reign of a new monarch and all the instability that came with it, the White Tower continued to climb into the sky.
Except at some point, the work on the castle just stopped.
Why?
Well, we're not told.
In fact, the only reason we know of the interruption in this work is thanks to archaeological evidence.
None of our surviving documents mention it.
We just know, thanks to the tireless work of archaeologists and construction experts, that there are distinct signs of an interruption in the building of this tower.
Both style and material show it.
And while we're not told the specifics of what was happening regarding the construction, We are told quite a bit about the people and events that surrounded this period.
And so, for example, we can be relatively certain that this interruption wasn't due to King Rufus not liking the flashy design or the associated cost.
If anything, this new king would have been enthusiastic about both.
See, Rufus had quite a reputation for being a big spender.
And you can see why he might be that kind of person, right?
I mean, his father refused to give him any kind of real authority until he was laying on his literal deathbed.
And so functionally, Rufus went from being a dependent without any actual income or responsibilities of his own to being one of the wealthiest men in Europe with an entire kingdom to use as his piggy bank.
And that lack of experience and training really shows in how he handled the royal wealth.
Malmsbury tells us one memorable story about Rufus, which he offers as an example of the king's general attitude towards money.
Quote, he was a man who knew not how to take off from the price of anything, or to judge the value of goods.
But the trader might sell him his commodity at whatever rate, or the soldier demand any pay he pleased.
He was anxious that the cost of his clothes should be extravagant, and very angry if they were purchased at a low price.
One morning, indeed, while putting on his new boots, he asked his chamberlain what they cost, and when he replied three shillings, indignantly and enraged he cried out, You son of a whore, how long has the king worn boots of so paltry a price?
Go and bring me a pair worth a mark of silver.
He went, and bringing him a much cheaper pair, told him falsely that they cost as much as he ordered.
Aye, said the king, these are suitable to royal majesty.
Thus his chamberlain used to charge him what he pleased for his clothes, acquiring by these means many things for his own advantage.
End quote.
It's a fun story, though of course, it's unclear if this particular event actually took place.
Because remember, Malmsbury hated Rufus.
And so this very well could just be a bit of invented slander.
But that being said, the point of the story does fit the overall vibe that we get from the record about Rufus' relationship with money.
So whether or not he was really that ridiculous about shoes is besides the point.
This guy spent his cash.
As such, it's doubtful that he paused construction because he thought it was too expensive or too fancy to justify the price.
But the thing with money is that it does eventually run out.
And Malmsbury also tells us that through his immoderate spending, Rufus quote soon exhausted his father's treasures, end quote.
So, what was he spending it on?
I mean, shoes are great and all, but not even DJ Khaled would be able to bankrupt a treasury through shoes alone.
Though, bless him, he'd probably try.
The dude has over $8 million worth of shoes.
But unfortunately, we don't have Rufus's accounting books, so we can't know for sure.
However, when you look at the various documents and records that we do have, we can make some guesses.
And we do find another area of big spending.
And it was back in Normandy.
When King Rufus made peace with Bishop Odo and Duke Robert after that failed coup, did that feel kind of off to you?
I mean, Rufus was combative, and he relished conflict.
He famously looked for any opportunity to pick a fight.
And yet, Odo and his co-conspirators were just allowed to sail back home.
Even Balem was released from prison, and that guy was sus as hell.
In fact, Rufus's only major response to this attempt on his crown and his life was to try and bring the Bishop of Durham to trial, only to then let him wander back to Normandy when that also failed.
Rufus was even suspiciously chill with his shady younger brother, Henry, when he came back to England and had the balls to ask him for a payday.
It seems weird, right?
Well, here's the thing about that.
For the early part of this aftermath, Lanfrank was alive, and he was advising the king.
And even after he died, Rufus would have still carried those lessons from his old teacher.
And Lanfrank and Rufus knew exactly what Normandy was.
It was a society bound by a web of feuds that went back generations.
And many times, these feuds were between branches or even members of the same family.
Pretty much anyone who held power in Normandy also nursed wounds and cultivated rivalries because Normandy was feudal.
And this is just the reality of a feudalistic society.
And it was also the water that Rufus had grown up swimming in.
And Rufus would have known this was a double-edged sword, because a structure built on fractured power and disorganized vassals could enable strongmen like William the Bastard to maintain an iron grip on control.
It was only too easy for leaders like his father to wield those feuds and turn noble families against each other for the benefit of the Duke or the king.
But Rufus also knew that Duke Robert wasn't that kind of leader, clearly.
And that left an opening for figures who did have strong man aspirations and who were comfortable manipulating the desires and the disputes of their fellow noblemen.
Figures like Robert of Belem
and Prince Henry and King Rufus.
And wouldn't you know it?
Right as unlicensed castles were sprouting up like weeds across Normandy and a breakdown of ducal power was taking place within Normandy, we also see evidence that Rufus was sending money to Norman nobles.
Now, some of these funds went to allies he was hoping to cultivate, and some was also going to nobles who just happened to be particularly bellicose and rebellious and might have just needed a little nudge to get them going.
King Rufus, it turned out, hadn't been chill at all.
And I'm guessing all these gifts and enticements were quite expensive.
And that could explain why Malmesbury reports that Rufus was draining the royal coffers.
It could also explain why archaeologists found a sudden halt in the construction at the White Tower.
Either way, though, Rufus was laying the groundwork for his revenge.
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Thanks for listening.