The Castle in history
Back in the early 1100s there lived a man by the name of Geoffrey de Clinton. Of uncertain background, but almost certainly Norman French, he rose from near obscurity, courtesy of the usual court intrigues, plots and discoveries, to become Chamberlain to King Henry I. Shortly thereafter he was further raised to Sheriff of Warwickshire.
None of this would be of much interest, but for the fact that the latter appointment was primarily due to Henry's distrust of the Earl of Warwick. Said Earl had been (by family connection) implicated in a rebellion against the King and to limit his power the royal warrant was exercised compelling Warwick to cede substantial tracts of his holdings to de Clinton.
Amongst these was an area of land in the manor of Stoneleigh, where de Clinton very quickly set about having built both a castle and a priory.
Little remains to be seen of the priory, but at the edge of a small, picturesque market town you will find de Clinton's original Norman keep still standing proud at the heart of Kenilworth Castle.
If you've heard of Kenilworth but not de Clinton; that comes as no surprise. Castle aficionados will know that these buildings do not survive hundreds of years intact, they are built, rebuilt, taken, re-taken, slighted, altered and adapted as the vagaries of family fortunes and royal whims dictate. The built-history explorers also attest that the associations that linger among the walls will seldom be those of the originator. Elsewhen, more famous personages will attach their names to places and it is their fortune or misfortune which assures those walls of later affection or respect in the national psyche.
This is what happened at Kenilworth. There were many changes down through the ages, but the two most famous occupants to have made their mark upon the place in a fashion which can still be seen today are: John of Gaunt (to be father of Henry Bolingbroke, later Henry IV), and Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (lover & confidant of Queen Elizabeth I).
We will come to them in their turn, however, for it wouldn't do to skip the events of 250 years or thereabouts.
Whilst de Clinton enjoyed the King's patronage all was well, but sadly he died leaving a minor as his heir at a time when Warwick's fortunes were again in the ascendant, and English life was about to descend into civil war as Stephen (nephew to the king) raised his claim to the throne against the heir designate (the king's daughter Matilda). As might be imagined the younger de Clinton simply didn't have the time or the money to do much to the motte and bailey castle he'd inherited.
By the time Henry Plantagenet (by dint of descent from William the Conqueror via the aforementioned Matilda) claimed the throne, Kenilworth was becoming recognised as being of strategic importance, sitting as it does in the very heart of England within a couple of days ride of the troubled areas of the north and the Welsh marches to the west. Only 20 years into his reign, Henry II took the castle into royal ownership.
The defences were extended, strengthened and completed. A great chamber was constructed, and a chapel, and other apartments.
Two reigns on and (bad) King John is known to have spent some £1100 on Kenilworth – no small sum in the early 1200s, but justifiable no doubt if you are facing excommunication from the church, not to mention a few troublesome barons at home. Strength in stone walls or not, those troublesome barons got their bill of rights signed at Runnymede: a victory for English law that echoes until this day. Not enough however to wrest the crown for the barons as John's son Henry (to be the third) was crowned in 1216.
Little is known of any impact he may have had upon the place, but the times they continued a-troubled. The barons continued to be revolting. It is ironic that it was Henry III who granted Kenilworth to one Simon de Montfort. Landless, in the way of younger sons of the nobility of the time, de Montfort nevertheless soon became a favourite of the Francophile king. That he was of noble birth and endowed with military savvy and a pious sense of morality can't have harmed his cause. He was raised to Earl of Leicester, granted the king's sister in marriage and the castle at Kenilworth was gifted to him for life. The castle defences were further strengthened and "unheard of machines…" (trebuchets?) were chronicled to have been installed. Outworks were completed on the village side of the moat to protect the dam.
The irony kicked in when de Montfort found himself heading the latest rebellion against the King. Personal relations had suffered between the two men (money, politics and religion combining to their conflicting interests), but the aim of the barons was not to depose the king, merely to limit his power. Herein lie the first real seeds of English parliamentary democracy. Much good it did de Montfort. He died fighting for the cause against the forces of royalty at Evesham in 1265.
This is more significant for the object our consideration (the castle) than you might first imagine. The remnants of de Montfort's forces took sanctuary in his stronghold, closely pursued by the royal army. De Montfort's son had promised to surrender the castle to the king; the elder de Montfort's supporters refused. Negotiations dragged on between January and June 1266, when there began in earnest the longest siege ever known upon English soil. Trebuchets and similar engines hurled whopping great boulders (a rock howsoever shaped and smoothed that weighs up to 300lbs is something I'm hard-pressed to call a "stone") with great accuracy in both directions across the waters of the mere. More fearsome machines were called up from London in the royalist cause. The sheer strength of the defences at Kenilworth refused to fall. Six whole months the stalemate lasted until eventually starvation and disease caused the inevitable surrender, but on relatively favourable terms even then.
Kenilworth's fame was assured: although it remained little more than a traditional Norman motte and bailey consisting of the stronghold keep, the outer bailey where no doubt lightweight structures housed people and horses and tradesmen and other supporting functions, and the defensive walls.
The fortified area known as the Brays being a further, outermost bailey designed primarily to protect the dam probably also provided stabling for horse and men. Little remains to be seen of the latter.
Having sieged the place into submission, Henry gifted it to his younger son Edmund, thus passing the property into the house of Lancaster where it was to remain more-or-less for about a hundred years. The creation of the deer park for hunting and the lavish entertainments that are recorded, were paid for in piety by the construction of the collegiate chapel of St Mary within the castle walls, although its founder didn't live long enough to see the college established and the chapel itself seems to have quickly fallen into disuse. The merest foundations are visible today.
Thus by long excursion we come to John of Gaunt: as the fourth son of Edward III he might have been a mere footnote to history but for the early deaths of his elder brothers. He acquired Kenilworth by marriage to Blanche of Lancaster, but his need to extend and improve it founded on his second marriage. Following Blanche's premature death, a political marriage to Spanish royalty gave him a right to claim the titles to the kingdoms of Castille and Léon. However strong or otherwise those claims to power, the man's wealth is not in doubt. Scarcely ever visiting the place due to business at the English or foreign courts, he lavished his funds upon Kenilworth. He took not only the designs from the newly refurbished Windsor Castle as his pattern, but employed also the master mason and chief carpenter from that mighty enterprise to see to his own embellishments.
Gaunt's "Great Hall" was (and still is) truly majestic. 200 years later it still met with the approval of a noble trying to impress a queen. Even Dudley let it stand. Six bays in length with cellars at ground level, the main hall above lit by towering cathedric windows with delicate tracery. Two fire places remain today, with the blank space above for the hanging of tapestry or display of other artwork, but evidence suggests that a total of six encompassed the room originally. The design of the roof is lost to the mists of time, but with the exception of the Great Hall at Westminster it is believed to have been the widest roof of any royal hall in the kingdom throughout the mediaeval and Tudor reigns.
It was through Gaunt that the castle came back into the hands of the immediate royal family. His son Henry Bolingbroke acceded the throne (Henry IV), and took Kenilworth with him as a favourite family residence. Here it was that the next Henry (Harry 5 as we knew him at school) received that insulting gift of tennis balls from the King of France, which – if you remember your Shakespeare – directly led to Crecy and Agincourt and the most rousing speeches ever written.
Beating the French was one thing: keeping the peace at home was another. Another civil war (that of the Roses) ensured that strategic Kenilworth continued in import. Throughout the war and in the years following the settlement in the Tudor dynasty Gaunt's extensive works were to pay off, as little more was needed than routine maintenance.
There was money to spend on the pleasance, on the gardens, and the tennis courts. The defensive castle began to evolve into a gentille palace.
The changes came and went. Timber buildings were erected and removed: lodgings and a banqueting hall among them. The castle thrived, and in the mid-16th century it was granted to the Dudleys. John Dudley's fame and favour rested on his military service to Henry VIII (the earldom of Warwick and dukedom of Northumberland being acquired in payment). He got it very badly wrong thereafter: supporting the claims of Lady Jane Grey against the catholic Mary Tudor was his undoing. He was executed.
His two sons proved to be better diplomats. Robert in particular. Better known to history the Earl of Leicester, Robert Dudley came closer than anyone else to marrying Queen Elizabeth I. There is evidence enough to suggest that they doted upon each other, from their early hunting days, to her carrying his final letter about her person for a full fifteen years after his death. The Queen was a politician, though. She knew that she couldn't hold the kingdom if she married. The risks of either losing power to her husband, or the loss of 'hope' amongst her aspiring suitors which she unashamedly used to keep the peace, were too great to be run for purely personal reasons.
Or maybe having watched her father's escapades she was simply disillusioned with the whole concept of matrimony.
Either way: Dudley tried his best! When the royal progress was scheduled to take in Kenilworth, he didn't just arrange the fireworks and the masques and feasting. He had a whole new section of the castle constructed.
A four-storey tower block (albeit with two of the floors partially below the sloping ground level), it stretched beyond the original boundaries of the castle, breaching the walls that stood against Henry III 300 years before. This was to provide private accommodation for the monarch. There were privy chambers, withdrawing chambers, the Queen's bedroom , even a dancing chamber. All here would have been furnished in the new lavish Elizabethan style. The apparently plain walls would have been wood-panelled or hung with drapes and tapestries. The transient luxury is gone, but consider the fireplaces, consider above all the windows. Glass was still expensive at the time: the sure sign of a house of quality lay in its lights. Consider also the thinness of these new walls. This is construction no longer for protection, but for image.
And image has to begin at the gate. As well as providing new apartments for his beloved Queen, Dudley also had constructed a new gatehouse. After the fashion of turreted mediaeval strongholds, it too betrays its age in the vast expanse of glazing on the upper floors. (Today, this extends to the ground floor – but therein lies a much later tale.)
Elizabeth graced Kenilworth with her presence on numerous occasions, the final visit lasting for nearly three weeks in 1575. It was for this visit that Dudley created a new garden for her.
These were the glory days for Kenilworth, and they couldn't last. Failing to gain his Queen, Dudley did marry, but unhappily his wife died prematurely and he himself departed without legitimate male issue to inherit. After years of legal arguments and petitions, the castle fell to Charles Stuart and was soon to find itself again at the heart of a troubled country at war against itself.
This was to be the last time. De-garrisoned by the royalists after the battle of Edgehill, Kenilworth was occupied for a time by the parliamentarians – but the mood was turning against such establishments and any connection to royalty was becoming increasingly tainted. The place was to be slighted.
"Slighting" is the term used for making a defensive structure indefensible. In Kenilworth's case it entailed demolition of the north side of the Keep and removal of various sections of the outer walls. More damage might have been done, but for the fact that Colonel Joseph Hawkesworth, who was overseeing the works had accepted the remains in lieu of back pay. He converted the gatehouse into a private residence, and allowed his fellow officers to divide up the remainder for farm-land or to be pillaged for building materials. It was he who converted the gatehouse into a private manor house, walling in the massive entrance to provide ground floor accommodation that remained inhabited well into the 20th Century and can be visited today.
And so to ruin…
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Visiting Today
I guess you either visit castles or you don't. You may seek out military detail (as my other half does) or seek to touch the romance of past lives (as is my wont), or you may simply see a pile of stones.
"There's not much to see" I was told when I first voiced my intention to go to Kenilworth.
Really?
There are traces of all the history outlined above, if only you look. English Heritage provide an excellent guidebook, and also an audio-guide for those who prefer to be led around a site, rather than exploring for themselves. Walter Scott's romance "Kenilworth" is a wicked work of fiction from the Earl of Leicester's standpoint, but is believed to be accurate on the detail of the royal visits and definitely worth a read either before or after you visit.
The Tour
The tour (guided or self-explored) takes you through all of the main buildings alluded to above. From the tiltyard on the dam over the now dried out moat, through the remains of Mortimer's tower into the inner bailey.
The stable-block houses the tea-room, and an exhibition on the history of the castle. The exhibition is mostly in the way of panels, pictures and words, with a few interactive-lite knobs and buttons to push. Artefacts are limited to trebuchet stones and remnants of fallen masonry. There is a dress-up box for the children. Low-key museum stuff, it's true, but worth a read all the same.
Having got a rough idea of what happened when, you're free to explore at will – or follow the guide (book or audio). Taking in the central buildings in an anti-clockwise direction with lead you through chronologically from de Clinton's keep, through Gaunt's Great Hall, to Dudley's Elizabethan range.
You then need to take a wider sweep, to take in the Elizabethan gatehouse (the one that survived the slighting) and the current pièce de resistance: the recreation of Elizabeth's garden.
Dudley's Gatehouse
The gatehouse, despite surviving as a home until 1930s and used as a council chamber from 1958 is the epitome of Elizabethan domestic architecture – with many of the walls panelled in dark oak, giving them a shipboard feel. An ancient spiral staircase, almost uniquely for the time made of wood rather than stone, leads to the upper floors. Credit to English Heritage for managing to install a lift giving access to these areas to the non-ambulant. Rooms of the gatehouse are a combination of 'left space' where the structure itself is the focal point, and home-furnished – dining, bedroom, withdrawing rooms – giving an idea of how the building functioned as a house, and exhibition / resource space. The exhibition focuses on the relationship between Elizabeth and Dudley – and the resource room is for use by schools, being a basic classroom with drawing materials and books on the relevant periods of history.
The Garden
In 2008/09 English Heritage set about re-creating for the first time the grand garden that Robert Dudley planted for Elizabeth. There were no surviving plans, so everything has been done from letters and descriptions and knowledge of similar creations elsewhere.
The garden is entered as Elizabeth would have done, through the forebuilding to the keep onto the terrace that takes in the full sweep of the formal planted beds. Arbours enclose the ends of the terrace, providing canopies to the stairs leading down to the main area. Four quartered beds surround a central fountain of Carrara marble, based on Langham's contemporary description of two Atlas's supporting a sphere from which water cascaded – or could be jetted upon unsuspecting strollers. The modern recreation is supported in shape by the archaeology which proves the eight-sided structure with panels four feet wide. The scenes are from Ovid's ''Metamorphoses'' a narrative poem on the creation of the world and the early gods tendencies to take on animal and human form to wreak love and havoc below. As Leciester was patron of the first English translation of the poem, which is rich in the earth humour enjoyed by the Elizabethans, it's not an unlikely association.
Dudley's pride of the garden was the aviary. Such structures were rare at the time, so Langham's detailed description is to be expected. Whether the top cornice genuinely was beautified with emeralds rubies and sapphires or merely painted to look that way is hard to say. Today's version may seem a little tame to eyes used to the vast glass structures of the Victorian age – just as the birds kept within it will have an eye to modern sensibilities on caging and the ability of species to live in harmony together, whereas Dudley would have simply sought out the most exotic, gloriously endowed avians available.
Visiting in 2009, the garden feels very new.
The wooden structures are splitting and uncertain, the planting yet to become properly established. It is a valid enterprise however, totally in keeping with the remains of the place and it will be interesting to go back in two or three years to see how it has matured. For those of green-fingered nature – the guidebook comes with a detailed plant list.
The View From Outside
On leaving the castle take time to follow the path that leads away westwards from the payment booth, to take in the views from across what would have been the mere and consider the impact all those centuries ago when most people lived in single storey cottages, and even a two-storey townhouse was a luxury.
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Not much to see? Oh, I disagree. Open your eyes and your imagination, and take a step back in time.
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Charges & Facilities
Details are correct at the time of writing, but check with English Heritage (http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/) for the latest information.
Entrance:
£7 adult, £6 concessions, £3.50 child, £17.50 Family
Free to English Heritage members
If you're visiting from overseas contact English Heritage (details on their website) to check if any multi-property-entry deals are available or whether there are any reciprocal arrangements with similar organisations in your own country if you are already a member of same. These do apply from time to time and it is always worth asking.
The entrance fee covers access to all areas, but the Gatehouse is available for private events and may close early.
Opening: 10am-4pm (Nov-Feb), 10am-5pm (rest of the year)
Getting there:-
The castle is on the edge of Kenilworth town, just off A46. There is a car-park adjacent to the entrance.
Buses run from Coventry, Leamington, and Birmingham – check with Traveline (http://www.travelinemidlands.co.uk/) for precise details.
The nearest rail station is Tile Hill on the Birmingham (New Street)-to-Coventry line, which is a superb option for walkers or cyclists: a leafy suburban road through the outskirts of Tile Hill and Burton Green brings you to the Kenilworth Greenway – a disused railway route of about taking you all the way to Kenilworth: gentle walking or riding through intermittent tree-shade and open space. Trains run approximately every 20 minutes through-out the day and take about 20 minutes from New Street.
Facilities:
WCs clean & well-maintained.
Shop selling guide-books, snacks and the usual EH souvenirs is at the entrance.
Tea-room selling a range of hot and cold meals and snacks. Note that this is only open Fri, Sat & Sun during the winter.
Lots of open space for lounging, picnicking and playing. The necessary "do not climb" signs on the walls (for protection of wall as much as anything else) but not a "keep off the grass" sign in sight.
Time required: a long half-day at least – a whole day to fully enjoy.
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© Lesley Mason
hiker@Ciao
1.8.09
Kenil Worth exploring 
