Warwick Castle

     Warwick Castle is an imposing fortress from the outside, and an excessive display of 18^th century conspicuous consumption in the state rooms inside--as well as a great photo op. Strategically located on the Avon river, it has been a fortress in one form or another for twelve hundred years, with most of the current castle built during the late middle ages. The Castle is most impressive as a medieval fortress. It was a scene of mighty battles from the time of William the Conqueror and figured actively in the 15^th Century War of the Roses.

 The castle was purchased in 1978 by the Madam Tussaud (Museum) Group, and wax figures and recorded voices dominate many of the display rooms. I found it a bit cheesy. On the other hand, with dozens of small boys brandishing wooden swords and almost every girl queued for the princess tour. I’m probably not the target audience.

horses' tail and head both wag when you pass

     After the War of the Rose and with the Tudors arrival, the castle fell into disrepair. Its next stage in history begins with James I giving it to Sir Fulke Greville, (a politician of merit and a poet and dramatist) in 1604. A descendent was made the Earl of Warwick in 1759. Between those two events, the place was steadily transformed into a family estate—interupted by the Civil War in the 17^th Century and a great fire in the 19th. It stayed in the Greville family for over 370 years, until it was sold in 1978. 

Among the family stories we heard, the one that most stuck with us was about a studio copy of a Van Dyke portrait of Charles I and his wife Henrietta Maria (still a very expensive painting). This was initially a very large painting with both figures full-bodied, but the Earl had a portrait gallery where all portraits were of the same size in beautiful gold frames. So he cut out part of the two figures and hung them on each side of the fireplace. The point was that ostentatious displays of wealth were more important, though they did leave unscarred grand paintings by Van Dyke, Rubens, Raphael, and Holbein. In various ways, displays dominate the state and family rooms. However, later generations of the family go deep into debt and now the house belongs to Madame Tussaud.

Wax Duke of Wales on left

     Along with the fine buildings are a number of attractions outside the walls—the engine room where electricity was first generated by the flow of the river Avon, an impressive trebuchet, a siege catapult that could launch fireballs (we missed the demonstration), an archery range, well-designed gardens, including one with a warning:

      

Lord Leyceter Hospital

    We spent a little time walking the town of Warwick. St. Mary’s Church contains the tomb of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who oversaw the trial and execution of Joan of Arc; Robert Dudley, long-time suitor of Elizabeth I (who gave him Warwick Castle as a gift), and other nobles. The original tower and nave were destroyed by a great fire in 1694, but the church remains a fine instance of English Gothic, especially from the inside.  Lord Leycester Hospital was built for pre-Reformation United Guilds of Warwick; the buildings were converted after the Civil War into a refuge for pensioner soldiers and their families. It still serves as a home for ex-servicemen. It also has a small tearoom with a large fireplace, where we had a break for tea and scones.

     As we toured the Castle and the grounds, I’m sorry to admit that Monty Python lines kept recurring in my head, partly because the place looks like a film set and partly because of the pervasive pop entertainment (mediaeval mayhem, wicked warwick, mike the knight). Upon seeing a wax knight brandishing a sword, “what, it’s just a flesh wound;” upon looking out from Guy Tower “English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person! I blow my nose at you;” in the boxwood gardens, “Knights of Ni, you are just and fair, and we will return with a shrubbery;" and in the bird display (you see this one coming), “What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" Now I’ve got you started, haven’t I….The place was made for it.

Cotswolds

     We toured the northern Cotswolds for two days last week. We stopped at about a half-dozen towns, visiting some churches, town squares, pubs and cafes, and a market. The towns are old—some date to pre-Norman invasion, lots have 12^th to 15^th century building and hosted momentous events usually during the Civil War. They are well known for being constructed of local limestone, the same stone with which many of the Oxford colleges are built. It is a golden brown color, darker and warmer than the paler version we saw in Bath.

The Cotswold Arms, Burford

 

     In Burford and Chipping Camden we visited beautiful old churches, St John the Baptist  and St James. Both were funded and built by wealthy wool merchants who dominated the area. Along with others in the area, they are known as “wool churches.” Both of the churches we visited were full of stories. In Burford, one of the highlights is a large, prominent wall memorial to Henry VIII’s barber (there is no escaping the presence of Henry anywhere it seems). At first I found it comic that the barber had such local standing, but then remembered that the he could also act as a surgeon and drew blood (remember barber's poles?--grandchildren, ask your parents). There is also a plaque recognizing three Levellers who were executed outside the church for leading a rebellion against Oliver Cromwell (political leftists; they weren’t royalists). I read many Diggers and Levellers’ pamphlets and broadsides years ago; they were for greater democratic participation (not just the propertied class) and economic equality.  It was moving to see a place where they had been in action.  And so much for church sanctuary when you are in a religious/economic battle with Oliver Cromwell.

St John the Baptist, Burford

St James, Chipping Campden

In Chipping Campden at St. James, we were greeted by a friendly, older man who asked us where we were from, and he mentioned that he had family in the States. So we worked through some geography—he had a niece in Northern Virginia, well specifically Fairfax, in some small town called Herndon. Small world, though we don’t know the niece.

     Chipping Camden was one of our favorite places. Like the other Cotswold towns we visited, the town square was once the site of sales and auctions of sheep herds, and a number of now quaint little lanes that come into the square were formerly used to manage the sheep. As with the other towns, one of the main streets was Sheep Street.  The industry still dominates the area, with large flocks of sheep in every vista--though we didn’t come across any sheep herds on the road as we have in Ireland.

     We started our morning in Chipping Campden in a lovely little tea shop for coffee and tea. The ladies there were quite amused by my choice of apple pie for breakfast; what’s funny about that? It's all part of my explorations. Across from the shop was a medieval outdoor market. One of the reasons we were there was because of a “foodie” market that day as part of a week-long celebration of local foods in the Cotswold. There were about ten stalls with interesting people and a nice range of local meat and cheese and liquor and oil as well as imported tea and olive oil. But it wasn’t what he hoped. 

 

     A seemingly more successful local industry than locovore food was the remnants of a turn of the last century arts and crafts movement. The Court Barn Museum near St James Church has a well designed exhibit of work by bookbinders, potters, silversmiths, furniture makers, sculptors, and jewelers who worked in the area in the early 1900s. They had moved from a guild of handicrafts in London to celebrate rural life and hand made goods. The guild didn’t flourish, but decedents of some of the original artists are still fashioning beautiful pieces.

     The loveliest scenes for us were in Lower and Upper Slaughter, two very small towns—just a few dozen houses at most—about a mile apart. The gently rolling landscape, cut into various rectangles by hedgerows, the houses surrounded by neat, small gardens, and of course the sheep scattered across the meadows create an ideal pastoral scene. There is a walking path between the two, which we planned on taking, but when we saw no one on it and a number of people walking the road between towns, we decided it may be too muddy for us without wellies. So we drove. The largest building in each hamlet has been converted into a hotel. I guess that’s the alternative to keeping the estate and opening it to tourists.

     Unrelated to this post, but thought I’d mention it because it kept coming up on this Cotswold trip: I’m trying to understand the difference between “lovely” and “brilliant” as responses. Give a clerk the right amount of change and he or she might use either word in place of “thank you,” which is what we say in the States. We overheard someone ask, “where’s the loo?” and after being given directions, the answer was “brilliant,” but when someone gets an answer to whether there are more croissants, it seems to be “lovely.”  The difference doesn’t seem to be situation, age or gender, or even class, though I’m still wondering about that. In any case it is lovely how they use the world brilliant around here (maybe it’s Oxford?).

 

Wolsey

Thomas Wolsey

     On Sunday we toured Hampton Court Palace, on Monday night we dined at Christ Church, and Wednesday we will watch the next installment of Wolf Hall on BBC television. So what do they have in common? Cardinal Wolsey, of course! We have been hearing about Thomas Wolsey (1473-1530) since we arrived, and this week we got a greater appreciation of why. He designed and lived in Hampton Court Palace and founded and designed Cardinal College. Both were taken from him by Henry VIII in 1528 when Wolsey was unable to arrange/broker an annulment for Henry from his first wife, Katherine, who was also the aunt of the Holy Roman Emperor at the time (awkward).  Wolf Hall is a recent, popular novel about these events and is currently the must-see TV in Britain.

     As a Cardinal, Wolsey was a powerful figure in the Roman Catholic Church. As Lord Chancellor, he was the second most powerful man in England. And since Henry often had his mind on other things, Wolsey ruled the land in many ways. He was rightly famous for bringing England to the table (and even hosting the table) for various European alliances and treaties. He was also ruthless in his dealing with the English nobility and clergy. Live by the sword and the cross, die by….except Wolsey died of natural causes—in Leicester—before he had to answer to charges of treason.

 

     Hampton Court Palace is a huge, impressive place with beautiful, elaborate gardens. It was a home for kings and queens for almost two centuries, with each royal family (Tudor, Stuart, Hanover) remodeling and adding to the palace. The original design was Wolsey’s, and he built upon a former manor house on the site. Along with his own suite of rooms, he built ones for Henry, his (then) queen Katherine, and daughter (later queen) Mary.  The Base Court is the first of multiple courtyards (seems each family had to add one), and it is surrounded by forty two-room apartments. 

     The Tudor kitchen for all these people is quite a story (well, of course it is, it’s about food), built to prepare 600 meals twice a day and many more on “feast” days. Henry was committed to conspicuous consumption for his guests, especially foreign dignitaries, and the Lord, well at least the Cardinal, provided—in great quantities.

  

Tom Tower

     Christ Church, which I wrote about a few weeks ago—as I’m sure you recall—was originally Cardinal College, then King’s College when Henry appropriated it, then Christ Church when Henry created the Church of England. The college tie has little cardinal’s mitres on it in recognition of the college origins.  Wolsey was an Oxford graduate and it seems the place was close to his heart.

 

    We had the great pleasure of being asked to supper at the Great Hall of Christ Church. The evening began with champagne in the advancement office where we met our hosts, Bob Schuettinger and Mallory Factor, who are associate members of Christ Church (each college member can bring one guest to dinner). We then proceeded to the Senior Common Room (faculty lounge), a large room with a fire going at one end, leather sofas and chair and tables placed for small group conversations, and a bar at which we were served sherry. We met some faculty and guests, all of whom were most courteous; the faculty wore academic robes. Oh how I wish I could have been so gauche as to pull out my cell phone camera. 

Great Hall

We proceeded to the high table in the Great Hall. Students were at their tables. We stood behind our chairs for grace (in Latin), then were seated. The setting is unforgettable, though it was diminished because there is scaffolding set up to repair the roof. The meal was superb. The place and the event exuded privilege. The diners were interesting and lively.

      After supper, we adjourned back to the Senior Common Room for coffee, port or brandy. Professor Graham Ward, the very distinguished and very gracious Regius Professor of Divinity invited us to see his rooms at the College. What another pleasure to see his set of rooms—seminar room, living room, study, back lawn—which may have belonged to Cardinal Wolsey himself. The study was formerly the Oratory and below in the basement may have been intended to be Wolsey’s crypt. Now, it had some cement shelves, which were installed during World War 2 to store the college’s precious holdings of champagne and port. We left the rooms and walked across the courtyard as the Tom Tower bell tolled 101 times, in honor of the original scholars of the college, and the near full moon had a ice ring around it. A magical moment and scene. We were enchanted.