Richard III's Yorkie Bar

Do not get me wrong but I do have the greatest respect and admiration for the magnificent Monk Bar tower in York.


What is there not to like. It is a veritable fortress in its own right with four storeys of somewhat time worn and weathered magnesian limestone in a wonderful mellow colour perhaps tinted to some degree by the airborne dirt and grime of a modern and busy urban environment.


It dates back to the 14th Century, old enough as it is but of a time and authenticity to always guarantee a small cagoule clad group of foreign tourists crowding the pavement, straddling the puddles in the gutter of the road and listening attentively to an official City of York Tour Guide, either manually or with those pre-recorded headset gadgets. Of some excitement is that it has for many years housed a museum to Richard the Third, the hunchback monarch. 


The Americans in particular enjoy the historic wealth of the tower being from a considerably younger nation with more of a disneyesque heritage than anything. One or two of the US visitors stroke the masonry to verify that it is not a taut canvas clad prop or stone textured polystyrene. Unfortunately a street side vantage point may be the only one available for the larger members of the tour party as the sole doorway leading to the steps is based on the proportions of an average medieval person with an allowance for a chain mail vest and sword. There are however other points by which to access the City walls although involving something of a longer walk.


Standing, looking up at the western face of the tower gives some insight into the ravages of conflict, social upheaval and regime change in England since the 1300's and some more modern ham fisted building works. There is a great variety of dressed stone blocks in the sheer vertical elevation. It is perfectly feasible that bits fell off at various points in time and if dashed into aggregate by the impact upon striking the ground or blood spattered beyond reasonable reclamation from squashing some hapless, unfortunate burgher then what better place than York to scavenge, beg, steal or borrow replacement materials.


The stonework in the west wall is therefore a bit confused. Medieval stonemasons skilled, multi-generational work sits amongst salvaged Roman masonry from other parts of the city walls, tumbled down monuments, parts of bath houses and forums, the offices and residences of the administrators and military, bits of churches and oddments of hovels and slums, themselves prefabricated from anything that could be found in a vibrant and developing urban environment.


As welfare and health improved slowly, between outbreaks of population thinning plaque and pestilence, those normally bent double or afflicted with ricketts and malnourishment began to walk taller. The tower was now less imposing to those of a slightly increased height and for this and some other, more plausible reasons Monk Bar was uplifted with a top floor in the late 1400's.


The approach to the gateway by those dwelling outside the walls on the marshy ground or further out in the mainly wooded hinterland of Yorkshire will have been quite awe inspiring in those times. It served its purpose of keeping the peasants in their place.The easily defended  opening  to the blockhouse of a building is a display of power and authority with a large four centred arch. What are thought to be 17th century embellishments are carved figures of wild men holding what look like boulders. Another threatening image to entertain the masters and subjugate the masses.The original crowd control measures did include a portcullis and the mechanism for its operation still survives in situ.


There is a feeling of great security on entering the steep stairwells, the dense and very thick walls entomb you  but an overiding feeling is also one of claustrophobia until you emerge blinking onto the ramparted walls to look down on the open topped tour busses.


Modern visitors are denied, thankfully the full exposure to the sights, sounds and characteristic odours of Medieval England. The best that can be expected today is the smell of warm focaccia bread and coffee from a delicatessen just up the street.