Still Towering over London

beefeaters' lonely vigil

By Carole Barclay

The Tower of London has dominated the London scene for almost a thousand years. It began in 1066 when William the Conqueror ordered its construction to make his mark on the capital of his new kingdom. Since then the Tower has served as a fortress, palace, prison and even a royal zoo for those who sat on the throne of England.
    This is where the two young “Princes in the Tower”, who stood in the way of their uncle Richard III, were held before they conveniently “disappeared” in 1483. Ann Boleyn, one of Henry VIII’s unfortunate wives, spent her last days awaiting execution in the Tower. Many others, including Walter Raleigh and Guy Fawkes, passed through ‘Traitors Gate’ down the ages.
    During the Second World War Germany’s Deputy Fuhrer, Rudolf Hess, became the last state prisoner of the Tower when he was held here after he parachuted into Scotland to try and negotiate an armistice in May 1941 while the last man to be executed behind its grim walls was a German spy shot by firing squad in August 1941.
    Though this massive fortress may seems impregnable to the modern visitor the only time it ever fell was when sympathetic guards opened the gates to Wat Tyler’s rebel army during the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381. A rebel detachment led by John Starling seized the architects of the hated poll tax who were cowering behind its walls. The Lord High Treasurer Robert Hales along with the Chancellor of England Archbishop Simon Sudbury and John Legge, the king’s tax collector for Kent, were dragged out and beheaded on nearby Tower Hill.
    Though there is modest display dedicated to the Peasants Revolt in one of the bastions along the eastern ramparts walkway little or nothing is said about the turbulent times of the English Civil War.
    London was the staunchly Puritan capital of the Parliamentary forces during the Civil War which began in 1642 and ended in 1649 with the trial and execution of Charles Stuart and the abolition of the monarchy. The Republic of England, or Commonwealth as it was commonly styled in English, was proclaimed soon after.
    In 1653 Oliver Cromwell, the great commander of the New Model Army, became head of state, the Lord Protector. He established the Tower’s first permanent garrison and ordered the original crown jewels to be melted down to meet the needs of the new republic – a fact coyly mentioned in the current Crown Jewels exhibition.
    Cromwell never lived in the Tower but the fortress did provide a roof for some of his less than welcome “guests”. Most were Royalist prisoners. Others had once fought by his side.
    One was John Lilburne, a parliamentary army officer who had become a leader of the radical “Leveller” movement that campaigned for justice and equality during the conflict. “Freeborn John” denounced MPs who lived in comfort while the common soldiers fought and died in poverty. He ended up in the Tower for denouncing his former commander, the Earl of Manchester, as a traitor and a Royalist sympathiser and campaigning against the “grandee” army leaders who led the new republican government that the Levellers claimed were no better than the Cavaliers they had just ousted,
    Lilburne was accused of working with the Royalists to bring down the Commonwealth. Though a London jury acquitted him of treason charges his continuing opposition activities led to his exile soon after. Lilburn was sent back to the Tower when he returned to London without permission. He was finally freed in 1656. By that time he had abandoned his radical beliefs to become a pacifist and a Quaker and he died the following year.
    Lilburne told the Puritan preacher Hugh Peters, one of Cromwell’s inner circle, that he would rather have had seven years under the late king's rule than one under the present regime.
     Whether Lilburne had actually became a turn-coat, however, is still debatable.
But there’s no doubt about Edward Sexby, a prominent Leveller “agitator” who was arrested for plotting to kill Cromwell and distributing a pamphlet that incited the murder of the Protector.
    Sexby was an ambitious man. When the Levellers turned against the grandees he joined Cromwell’s camp and was rapidly promoted. He was elevated to the rank of Colonel and worked in France for the fledgling republic’s intelligence service. But he made many enemies along the way and by 1654 his military career had come to a halt. An increasingly bitter man, he returned to his radical past and the now underground Leveller movement.
In 1655 he fled to the Netherlands after being implicated in a new Leveller conspiracy. There he joined Royalist exiles plotting to assassinate Cromwell.
    Sexby helped produce, and may have actually written, an appalling pamphlet called Killing No Murder that called for Cromwell’s death. But he was speedily arrested after secretly returning to England in 1657. He died in the Tower the following year. The Commonwealth’s semi-official bulletin, the Mercurius Politicus, said he was ‘stark mad’.
    There’s plenty to see and this is the best time to do it. Before the coronavirus crisis the Tower of London was one of London’s most visited tourist attractions and one of the leading visitor attractions in the United Kingdom.
    Over 15,000 visitors, many from overseas, passed through its gates every day. In these troubled days London’s tourist industry has all but collapsed while the Covid-19 restrictions strictly ration the numbers allowed into the fortress at any given time. It’s around 800 on a good day. But when it rains visitors are almost outnumbered by the Beefeaters and the soldiers of the garrison. The long queues to see the Crown Jewels have vanished and you can really explore the nooks and crannies of this fascinating relic of London’s past.

The Tower of London is currently open from Wednesday to Sunday from 10:00 to 18.00. Tickets cost £25.00 (half-price for children) and visitors must book entry-slots with their tickets.

White Gold: A not so golden age

Review

by Ben Soton

White Gold. BBC2, also available on BBC iPlayer.
Creator: Damon Beesley. Stars: Ed Westwick, James Buckley, Joe Thomas.

The 1980s were a dreadful decade. After the rather promising 1970s they saw massive defeats for the working class both in Britain and internationally.

At home we witnessed the defeat of the miners and print workers. Internationally we saw progressive governments under siege in Afghanistan, Nicaragua and Angola. The decade ended with the counter-revolutions resulting from the treacherous policies of Mikhail Gorbachov.

Unfortunately, the 1980s had no redeeming features. In terms of film and television the decade was noted for a string of dreadful teen movies and we also saw the Australian soap opera Neighbours came to Britain. For music buffs the most prominent artist of the decade was Madonna. Even the clothes were bad; they resembled a cross between Alan Partridge’s Sports Casual Wear and prison uniforms.

The period was also noted for the myth that you could make large amounts of money knocking on people’s doors selling products such as life insurance, double glazing and various other home improvements.

Home improvements were a growth industry as home owners were encouraged to spend hard earned (often through overtime) money in DIY stores. The so-called home-improvement boom was partly encouraged by the sale of council houses at knock-down prices. This is the basis for the BBC2 Wednesday night black comedy White Gold; a programme, now in its second series, centring around a fictional double-glazing firm called Cachet based in early 1980s Essex.

The lead character in White Gold is head salesman Vincent Swan. Swan is as a wide-boy and social-climber who uses dishonest and probably illegal tactics to sell double glazing and now conservatories. In many ways the ultimate anti-hero.

Played by Ed Westwick, Swan regularly breaks the fourth wall by interrupting the script to talk directly to the audience. This is intended to give the audience an insight both to the plot and to explain Swan’s highly individualistic world view. He runs a team of social misfits and drop-outs who lack the competence to run a school tuck shop.

In the first series Swan had an extra-marital affair with his child’s primary school teacher whilst his wife became involved with a member of his sales team – a plot-line that may re-emerge in this series.

In episode two of the second series (13 March 2019) Cachet attempts to use a Page Three model to promote their business only to find themselves, through a series of mishaps, with the snooker player Steve Davis – a man not known for being exciting.

The series is worth watching, if only as an epitaph to a particularly unpleasant decade.

The programme raises the issue of organised crime’s involvement in the so-called enterprise culture of the 1980s. At the end of the first series Cachet was bought by an Essex gangster. Was this something the Thatcher government tolerated? It was after all a time when the police were needed elsewhere. Did the Tory government turn a blind eye to what was effectively money laundering?

In a television interview Thatcher admitted turning a blind eye to the black economy, where people often worked and claimed benefits at the same time. Allowing people to get away with what was technically fraud acted as a safety valve limiting potential opposition, although this was an improvement on today’s benefits system where claimants are sanctioned at the drop of a hat.

On a personal note, I was at school for most of the 1980s. In the early 1990s I found myself working for a company selling fitted kitchens door to door. In the two or so weeks before my somewhat heated resignation I earned less than £100. Myself and the other young people would be driven to random parts of Southern England and were given pep-talks telling us that our lack of motivation and drive were the only things blocking us from acquiring unlimited wealth.

I was told by a fellow employee that our employer, who bore sticking similarities to Vincent Swan, offered to pay him his sales commission in marijuana. Further proof that the ‘enterprise culture’ was nothing but a cover for crime and degenerate behaviour.

Canterbury Tales

the iconic heart of the city

By Carole Barclay

Canterbury, the historic capital of Kent, has attracted visitors for over 1,000 years. In the past it was the focus for the cult of St Thomas, the archbishop cut down in his own cathedral in 1170 for crossing the king once too often. Tourists now follow the footsteps of pilgrims in the majestic cathedral that is the hub of the Church of England and wander around the ancient streets that are still surrounded by a massive city wall that goes back to Roman days.

Many years ago the Anglican church was dubbed the Conservative party at prayer, so it’s not surprising to find the city’s hallowed streets used to project ‘traditional values’ and the myth of ‘old England’ that the ruling class use to justify their exploitation and oppression. But that was all shaken at last year’s general election when Labour defeated the Tories, who had held the seat in its current and earlier forms for 160 years, to elect Canterbury’s first ever Labour and female MP.

But throughout history the people of Canterbury have stood up for themselves, and beneath the city streets there’s a record of a violent and sometimes revolutionary past. When Wat Tyler led the Kentish rebels during the Peasants Revolt of 1381 his army was welcomed by the people of Canterbury, who help them to sack the castle and the archbishop’s palace.

Thomas Becket may have been a martyr for his church but he was not the only Archbishop of Canterbury to meet a violent end. Aelfheah was killed by Viking raiders in 1012 for refusing to pay a ransom. Archbishop Sudbury, the architect of the hated Poll Tax, was beheaded by an enraged mob in London during the Peasants Revolt and Archbishop Laud, a royalist lackey, was executed for treason by the Parliamentary authorities in 1645 during the Civil War.

The civil war ended with the execution of Charles Stuart in 1649 and the proclamation of the Republic of England, or Commonwealth as it was commonly known.

The end of the monarchy also meant the end of the Church of England, which was abolished and outlawed by the republican government led by Oliver Cromwell. In Canterbury Puritans ransacked the cathedral to purge it of ‘popish’ symbols. The hard-line faction on the city council even wanted the cathedral demolished. Wiser counsel prevailed however, and the building was put to good use to provide much needed accommodation for the local militia during the Commonwealth era.

The restoration of the monarchy that came soon after Cromwell’s death paved the way for the re-establishment of the Anglican church as the official Church of England and now the cathedral welcomes nearly a million visitors per year to marvel at the imposing edifice that is a tribute to the skill of medieval craftsmen.

Nowadays Canterbury is a centre of learning, with a large student population centred around the city’s three universities and other higher education institutions. The performing arts are well-served by the theatre named after Christopher Marlowe, the city’s favourite son, and the Gulbenkian arts complex on the campus of the University of Kent.

But it’s the medieval sites that most tourists come to see. The cathedral is a must, despite the high admission charge, and a walk around the ramparts encompasses a massive Roman burial mound and the ruins of Canterbury castle. The shattered remnants of St Augustine’s priory, dissolved in 1538 when Henry VIII broke with the Catholic Church, and the medieval buildings and churches that can be found throughout the old city are well worth visiting, along with the Roman and other local museums that trace the city’s history down the ages.

• Canterbury Castle