Thomas Oken’s House is one of Warwick’s most enchanting Tudor buildings. It was built by and is associated with a benevolent gentleman, one of those wealthy Elizabethan merchants who stewarded his money wisely, made a hugely generous bequest to his town, and whose gift is still doing good five hundred years later for the local people.
Numerous curious tales are told of Thomas Oken’s House; and many of them from those who either work in or enjoy a meal in the tea rooms.
As soon as Jo took over the tea rooms in November 2011, she started to hear tales of odd goings-on from her young staff. But first, let us backtrack to Jo’s curious conversation with the previous owner of the business.
“He said to me, ‘You won’t want to hang around too long on your own after closing time, I can tell you.’” Curious, Jo nevertheless took a sceptical view of this. The vendor added that he had seen door latches shaking up and down on their own. But since Jo took over, she has felt nothing but a friendly presence there. “Thomas Oken was a wonderful man,” she says. The affection with which she speaks of him is testament to the enduring reputation of this good-hearted and far-sighted Elizabethan merchant.
Jo continues, “I have a lot of young staff who seem to experience strange things in the house much more than I do. I believe that younger people are more spirit-sensitive. Several customers have reported seeing a dignified gentleman with fine clothes and a stick who saunters into the room going from table to table and smiling benevolently at the customers there. One visitor told me that she was sitting in the big upper room and the chatter faded away, whereupon she heard the sounds of a medieval street market: carts and horses, vendors shouting their wares.
from Paranormal Warwickshire by SC Skillman
To find out more preorder Paranormal Warwickshire here.
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The Tudor house at Coughton Court, for centuries the family seat of the Throckmorton family, is one of the loveliest National Trust properties in Warwickshire and it has a variety of gardens, both formal and natural, including an enchanting bog garden.
The grounds slope down towards the banks of the River Arrow.
The grounds are particularly notable for a stunning walled RHS garden which was designed by two members of the Throckmorton family, Clare and her daughter Christine, professional garden designers.
Nearby are two churches: the nearest, St Peter, is Anglican and was built in the late 15th century by Sir Robert Throckmorton. It began life as a Catholic church but after the reformation became Church of England.
The paranormal tale which I recount in my book Paranormal Warwickshire is connected to the graveyard of the Anglican church.
Beyond that the Catholic Church of St Peter, St Paul and St Elizabeth was built in 1855, when the family could at last worship openly as Catholics. The family have remained true to their Catholic faith for many generations, and in the sixteenth century they found their way around Elizabeth I’s religious laws, as so many Catholic recusants did in those dangerous and turbulent times.
Another curious anecdote relates to the coat of arms which formerly hung over the front entrance. To find out more, do preorder Paranormal Warwickshire here.
The Throckmorton name is of course linked to the Gunpowder Plot and a fascinating exhibition in the house tells the full story.
Discover more about the intriguing history, the curious anecdotes, and the many poignant associations with the most dramatic periods of English history at Coughton Court in my book Paranormal Warwickshire.
Rising up before you as you approach Warwick from the south, along the Banbury road, you will see a spectacular sight: that of Warwick Castle, perfectly preserved ancient fortress, later transformed into a stately residence.
The south-east side of the castle commands a cliff on the opposite bank of the River Avon, as you enter Warwick. It is best viewed from those on foot, or seated high enough to look beyond the stone parapets of the bridge.
But, to my mind, the most awe-inspiring view may be obtained by standing on the river island bridge inside the castle grounds. The massive walls soar up from the water; and above them the buildings which house the state rooms of the castle are situated. From this point you gaze along the river back in the direction of the road bridge; you will see the mill and engine house, and just beyond it the whitewater of the weir, where groups of cygnets will be galvanizing themselves to take the plunge.
Beyond that you will glimpse the ruins of the medieval bridge, which are best observed from the decking outside the mill and engine house. This was the original bridge which for four hundred years formed the main approach to Warwick. It was built in the fourteenth century together with a toll booth. The site of that toll booth is now in the glorious Mill Garden, another location from which you have an outstanding view of the Castle. Once the new wider bridge was built over the Avon in the 1780s, the medieval bridge was sealed off and later partially demolished to form a picturesque ruin.
The first fortification on the land where Warwick Castle now stands was built in 914 by Ethelfleda, daughter of Alfred the Great, with the purpose of keeping out the Danes. Subsequently William the Conquerer took it over as a site for one of the many motte and bailey forts he established throughout England.
The mound on which these fortifications stood remains today as a prized element of the estate surrounding Warwick Castle; and indeed when Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown was commissioned by Francis Greville, Earl of Warwick from 1759 to 1773, to landscape the grounds, he suggested making the mound an important aesthetic feature, by ordering ornamental trees to be planted down its slopes surrounding the spiral path.
The first owner of the castle was, naturally, one of those who supported William the Conquerer; namely, Henry de Newburgh, Constable of the Castle from 1088 to 1119. But it was really only when the first member of the family de Beauchamp inherited the castle, beginning with William de Beauchamp in 1268, that a dynasty with significant influence in the affairs of the nation commenced.
From then on, through the Beachamps and the Nevilles and the reign of Edward IV, it is true to say that any individual who could be addressed My Lord of Warwick had a considerable influence on English history: and throughout the generations of Earls, the one to win the most noteworthy place in history books was Richard Neville, holder of the Earldom from 1449 to 1471. He held two kings prisoner during the course of one year, 1469: Edward IV in Warwick Castle and Henry VI in France.
It is easy for us to see Richard Neville’s actions as worthy of mirth now but within the complexities and the power struggles of his time these were grave decisions and deeds. It is intriguing to note how the balance of power often seemed to be influenced by the women behind the throne; in the case of Henry VI, Margaret of Anjou, later to be known as one of the she-wolves of English history: and in the case of Edward IV, Elizabeth Woodville and the powerful family behind her.
One of the great recurring themes of English royal history is that of betrayal and changing sides. The two Tudor kings Henry VII and his son Henry VIII left the castle to fall to ruins probably because of its associations with that Demon Brood, the Plantagenet dynasty who had preceded them.
Sellars and Yeatman, of course, brilliantly summed up the trap into which so many of us can fall, in their comic classic 1066 And All That(first published in 1930). In that slim volume they gave us: A Memorable History of England, comprising all the parts you can remember. Of Richard Neville they say: Any baron who wished to be considered king was allowed to apply at Warwick the Kingmaker’s, where he was made to fill up a form.
Richard Neville held sway more than any other Earl of Warwick before or after him, helping to depose both Henry VI and Edward IV. He also brought about the Readeption of Henry VI, to the great astonishment of Henry himself, for one year in 1470-71 before Henry was ‘put to death’ (or died of melancholy, as some would have it) in the Tower, and Edward IV took over again.
Though saintly – and judged by history to have been so – Henry VI was a disastrously ineffectual medieval king. But whilst manipulating the trusting and pliable man who had never wanted to be king, Richard Neville used the magic of Henry VI’s name as a cloak of respectability for his own ambitions.
But, in the beguiling manner of English history, his fortunes rapidly changed when he was defeated and killed at the Battle of Barnet in 1471, at which point Edward IV awarded the castle to his own brother, George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence.
The Battle of Barnet is the battle whose extensive preparations we see in the brilliant waxwork exhibition Kingmaker at Warwick Castle.
Another much earlier earl of Warwick had been responsible for the treacherous crime committed in 1312 against Piers Gaveston, Edward II’s favourite. Guy de Beauchamp, earl from 1298 to 1315, was one of a group of earls known as the Ordainers who aimed to try and contain Edward II in his excesses, and restrict his abuse of power. Guy was responsible for luring Piers Gaveston, Edward II’s favourite, to Warwick in 1312; and Piers ended up being dragged to Blacklow Hill and slaughtered there.
Yet another Earl of Warwick – Richard Beauchamp, earl from 1401 to 1439 – presided over the trial of Joan of Arc, and sentenced her to burn at the stake. This same Richard was also responsible for the building of the Beauchamp chapel in St Mary’s Church, Warwick – so priests could pray for his departed soul. It’s very tempting to speculate that he hoped thereby to assuage his lingering guilt for the part he played in bringing the Maid of Orleans to the stake; but it’s unlikely, of course, that he felt any guilt at all. We must always be careful not to attribute a 21st century conscience to one living in very different times.
Now when we visit the Castle, owned by Merlin Entertainments, our introduction to historical matters is via the Horrible Histories maze, which (arousing local controversy) stands in place of the previous Victorian rose garden, and gives great entertainment to many visitors. The intention of Horrible Histories is of course to amuse and amaze as well as inform, but it does mock the behaviour of our ancestors – of which more later in this chapter.
One of the other castle attractions is a visit to the State Rooms. After the restoration of the Monarchy in 1660, Robert Greville, then Lord of Warwick, began a period of restoration at the castle, and created there a grand palatial residence. From that time on, the castle rose again from its threatened fate of becoming a picturesque ruin.
The first Greville to lavish his wealth on renovating the property and creating new gardens had been Sir Fulke Greville, who held the castle between 1621 and 1628. It seems an undeserved irony that having achieved so much good, he should end up murdered by his manservant Ralph over the matter of how much money he had left Ralph in his will.
And Sir Fulke’s work on the new gardens was swept away by his successor who sided with Parliament during the English Civil War. During that period much damage was done to the Castle.
But when Francis Greville commissioned Lancelot Capability Brown to transform the grounds in the late 1750s, he made a major contribution to the castle’s power to attract and inspire visitors. Today, as you stand on the river bridge with your back to the island, you see the land sweep upwards to the Peacock Garden, and round to the north-west side of the castle in a way that appeals to our deepest sense of proportion and harmonious design. In fact Warwick Castle was Capability Brown’s first major commission, which launched him on his subsequent career, in which he transformed the grounds of many great houses in England.
When we walk round Warwick Castle, whether we tour the excellent Kingmaker Exhibition, admire the Great Hall with its magnificent weapon displays, wander through the State Rooms, walk the ramparts and towers, climb to the Conquerer’s Fortress or watch the Knights of Middle England re-enact the Wars of the Roses, we cannot but be aware of the rich concentration of English history, centred upon this castle.
And we might also reflect that it’s no wonder medieval earls and barons and kings were so willing to risk their lives for glory and power and wealth. Everyone would have been intensely aware of life as insecure, short and easily-disposable. That would drive anyone with ambition to an All or Nothing philosophy.
Though their pitilessness is undeniable, to all who descend the steps to the Gaol and gaze down the dreadful oubliette into which the unluckiest prisoners were thrown to be forgotten and to die of starvation or madness. But the judgements we pass on historical characters are often suspect. The decisions we ourselves make now – if significant enough to be remembered – will be as easy mocked from a distance of a few hundred years.
Looking back to medieval times, if we imagine the complexity of the situations and power struggles within which these personalities sought to reach their goals, all in the context of limited vision, we recognise that they had to make decisions just as we do now with no knowledge of future outcomes. We too will seem equally as self-defeating when viewed from the distance of centuries.