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Herefordshire. Worcestershire. Warwickshire. Gloucestershire. Oxfordshire.
Click On a Location to Be Taken To its Ghost Story
Much Marple. Near Ledbury. Herefordshire. During the
Civil War, Fulke Walwyn rode out through the 17th-century
It’s most
famous ghost story is centred on the John Walwyn bedchamber named for the 17th
century owner of the house whose youngest
Hellens other
haunting centres on Queen Mary’s Room, so called because Mary Tudor Needless to
say the trauma of his demise has left traces on the surroundings and several
people staying in the room have seen his ghost. Hellens Woodchester Park. Nympsfield. Gloucestershire. A sense of
genuine enchantment holds sway over the sylvan landscape that cradles one of
Britain’s most enigmatic haunted houses in a tender embrace. Woodchester Mansion
is The valley
now occupied by In 1845 the northern part of his estate was purchased by William Leigh, an immensely wealthy gentleman and recent convert to Catholicism. Leigh set about planning a house that would stand as a lasting testimony to his Catholic leanings and approached the master of Gothic revival architecture Augustus Pugin, whose designs included The Houses of Parliament in London. The two men, however, didn’t exactly see eye to eye, especially where money was concerned, and by the 1850’s the project of realising Leigh’s vision had fallen to a much younger local architect, 21 year old Benjamin Bucknall. Bucknall set
about designing a truly grandiose house, and for sixteen years craftsmen and
builders laboured on its construction. But
Following
During the Second World War American and Canadian troops set up camp in the pasture opposite and commandeered the house’s cellars to store equipment. They used the lakes in Woodchester Park to train for the D-Day landings and during one exercise a bridge over the lake collapsed and several soldiers were drowned. Their bodies were brought back to the mansion and despite over sixty years having elapsed since the tragic event, vestiges of it still seem to linger. Mediums have sensed the presence of people in military uniform inside, and the eerie sound of 1940’s music has been heard echoing along the corridors. Without doubt
one of the most curious and grandest parts of the house is the chapel. Some
people have reported the strange smell of freshly extinguished candles there,
although no candles had been burning prior to the appearance of the mysterious
aroma. Others have caught sight of a short man standing in A phantom
female voice has been heard singing an Irish lament in the kitchen,
A young girl
has been seen skipping playfully up and down the house’s grand staircase,
Woodchester Mansion is a truly special and unique place and a true aura of enchantment hangs over the whole edifice. I can honestly say that I found it one of the most moving properties I have ever visited and it was with some reluctance that I walked back along the rutted track and left the house to its memories, mytsris and shadows.
The
Ancient Ram Inn The Ancient Ram Inn possesses a genuinely chilling aura, and a reputation that
is so menacing
Hergest
Towards the
end of the 15th century Sir Thomas Vaughan resided at Hergest Court
in the days when it was a much grander and more heavily fortified property than
the farmhouse that greets visitors today. Vaughan was the very embodiment of the
archetype wicked squire, and was known Thomas Vaughan’s headless cadaver was subsequently buried in the rather eerie family vault in Kington church. But his ghost remained at large taking the form of a black bull that rampaged about the district accompanied by a fearsome black hound. So terrified did the inhabitants become that they refused to leave their homes to the detriment of the town’s economy. It was therefore decided that an exorcism must be performed and twelve priests came together and summoned forth Black Vaughan’s evil spirit. It took a great deal of shouting, chanting and bible quoting, but eventually they reduced him to the size of a blow fly and confined him inside a snuff box which was then buried under a heavy stone slab on the bed of the lake at Hergest Court. The spirit of their wicked Lord may have been laid, but ridding the district of his fearsome bloodhound proved an impossible task and in the centuries that followed it came bounding onto the pages of local folklore to strike terror into the hearts and minds of all who crossed its path. It was especially feared by the Vaughan family to whom remained a harbinger of death until the immediate family became extinct in the 19th century. But, according to a local tradition, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle viewed the Hound of the Vaughan’s as source of inspiration rather than fear, and he wove the legend of the black dog and the evil squire into a wonderfully evocative tale, and having transferred the action to the bleak desolation of Devon’s Dartmoor, pitted Sherlock Holmes against his most chilling and fearsome adversary The Hound of the Baskerville’s. Pembridge. With a
striking black-and-white timbered exterior, and an interior resplendent
Dudley. West Midlands. Dudley
Castle – the ragged remnants of which stand atop a lofty, limestone crag, and
which are reached via a brisk stroll through Dudley Zoo – was founded in 1071.
It was massively refortified in the 12th and 13th centuries by the then owners
the de Somery family who, tradition holds, resorted to violent extortion to fund
the expansion.
From the de
Somery’s, the castle passed by marriage to the de Sutton family, and then in the
mid-16th century came into possession
Garrisoned
by the Royalists during the Civil War, it was besieged by the Parliamentarian’s. Disembodied legs aside, many spirits linger around the lofty remnants. A group of intrepid ghost hunter’s who volunteered for a sponsored overnight stay one Halloween, were startled in the early hours by a mysterious figure, seen pacing across the parapets. Who, or what, it was has never been ascertained and it has never been seen since. The wraith of an old lady, who hanged herself from the ramparts when her cat was killed by local youths, has also been known to return occasionally to the place of her suicide. A Civil War drummer, who was picked off by a single shot from the battlements as he attempted to take a message offering terms of surrender to the garrison, is also seen from time to time. But the most famous of all the ghosts is that of the grey lady, whose sombre shade drifts around the parapets of the old keep at sundry times of the day and night. She is thought to be Dorothy Beaumont, who died at the castle during the siege of 1646, apparently of natural causes. The Parliamentary commander, Sir William Brereton, allowed her funeral cortege to pass though his lines and she was buried in the church at the top of Dudley High Street. But, the fact that her infant child had died before her and been laid to rest in the towns lower church, closer to the castle, proved too much for Dorothy’s spirit, and her ghost wanders the castle seeking the baby whom fate and the length of Dudley High Street, have separated her from for the whole of eternity. Staff have long since grown accustomed to her wanderings, whilst numerous bemused visitors will testify to her existence. In the course of one of the ghost tours now staged at the castle, an actor was employed to play the part of Dorothy’s ghost. At the crucial moment when the castle keeper, Adrian Durkin, was regaling his audience with her heart-rending tale, participants were puzzled by the appearance of second grey lady behind the actor. Talbot Hotel. Oundle. Northants. With the possible exception of Anne Boleyn, Mary Queen of Scots must have possessed one of the most psychically charged persona’s to ever drift across the pages of history. There is hardly a castle or house that she visited, and several that she didn’t, which is not now haunted by her tragic shade. The place where you would certainly expect to encounter her wraith is, of course, Fotheringay Castle, in the great hall of which she was beheaded on February 8th, 1587. But the Castle was long ago demolished, and all that now remains, is a melancholic mound in the grounds of a farmhouse. Much of the its stone was used for new building in the neighbourhood, and many of its furnishings ended up at sundry other locations. When
Mary’s son James 1st ordered that Fotheringay Castle was to be razed to the
ground, the landlord of the Talbot Inn, William Whitwell, saw an opportunity to
refurbish his hostelry in grand style at reasonable cost, On the
polished wood of the balustrade, there can still be seen the imprint of Astley. Nr Nuneton. Warwickshire. The
fire-mangled ruins of this ancient castle sit alongside the tranquil churchyard
of Nr. Kineton, Warwickshire. On October 24th 1642 the first major clash of the Civil War was fought at Edgehill, where Charles 1st with an army of 13,000 men had blocked the retreat of a Parliamentarian force numbering slightly less, which was commanded by Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex. The early advantage went to the Royalist Army, until Charles’s nephew, Prince Rupert of the Rhine, squandered it with an ill-advised cavalry charge that left the infantry exposed to an enemy attack. In the fierce hand-to-hand combat, the Roundheads succeeded in capturing the Royal Standard and killing its bearer Sir Edmund Verney. A Royalist cavalry officer, Captain John Smith, spotted a group of enemy troops making of with the colours. He charged after them, killed one, wounded another and, as the others fled, retrieved the standard and returned it to the King, with Verney’s hand still clasped around it! Three thousand men lost their lives that October day and, with the outcome of the battle indecisive, both sides were quick to claim the victory. The truth is that the advantage probably did go to the Kings army and, had Charles then chosen to march on London, he may well have altered the course of history. But so appalled was he by the carnage of this, his first battle, that he was unable to concentrate on military strategy and opted instead to head for Oxford where he established his headquarters. On 23rd December 1642, several shepherds at Edgehill claimed to have witnessed a spectral re-enactment of the entire skirmish. It began with the sound of distant drums which, as they got nearer, were joined by “the noise of soldiers… giving out their last groans”. There then appeared in the air “the same incorporeall souldiers that made those clamours” and a full-scale clash of phantom armies took place in the sky above the original battlefield. As the ethereal battle ended, the shepherds rushed to nearby Kineton, where they repeated, on oath, before William Wood, a Justice of the Peace, and the Reverend Samuel Marshall, the unbelievable details of what they had witnessed. The phantom armies re-appeared over several nights and were witnessed on Christmas Day by many people in “the same tumultuous and warlike manner.. fighting with as much spite and spleen as formerly”. When word of the miracle reached the King in Oxford, he dispatched six men of “good repute and integrity” to investigate the phenomena. They too were treated to a ghostly re-enactment of the dreadful battle and three of them, who had fought in the original conflict, actually recognised several of the ghostly combatants. Edgehill is still said to occasionally echo with the spectral vestiges of the bloody skirmish. The hoof-beats of invisible cavalryman have been heard thundering down nearby roads in the dead of night, whilst the agonised screams of the wounded and dying are said to rend the air around which is still one of Warwickshire’s most striking hillsides. Nr Stratford. Warwickshire The Gothic appearance of this luxury hotel, the oldest part of which dates back to the Tudor period, looks every inch the haunted house of tradition. It was, for centuries, the home of one of Warwickshire’s oldest families, the Shirley’s and was used as a location for the 1963 film of Shirley Jackson’s novel The Haunting. As dusk creeps across the surrounding treetops, and the eerie glow of twilight dapples the turrets and pinnacles of the old house in shadow, a grey lady has been known to materialise near the great stone staircase and drift about the spot where she reputedly died having been pushed down the stairs on an unspecified date. As she remembers her tragic demise a ghost, whom staff have christened “Lady Emma”, sometimes drifts along the cloister-like terrace, her translucent figure resplendent in a flowing white dress. Meanwhile, on the banks of the River Stour that flows through the grounds, the wraiths of two children, wearing old-fashioned clothing have been seen. One guest was woken by the sound of a child sobbing outside and, on looking out of the window, saw the shadowy phantoms gazing pensively into the river. Finally, in the library bar, a battered copy of Sir Walter Scott’s St Ronan’s Well has sometimes been lifted off the shelf and flung across the room, where it always opens at the same page on which the text concerns a curse
Coventry In the summer of 2001, archaeologists working in the centre of Coventry, uncovered the remains of a 14th century stained glass window, the shards of which depicted the face of a beautiful, golden haired woman. It was part of the east window of the former cathedral where, traditionally, the images of benefactors were depicted. It may well have shown the face of the wife or daughter of a wealthy and influential medieval citizen. But, as far as many were concerned, as they gazed upon the long buried but striking features of their exquisite find, they were looking upon the face of Coventry’s most famous daughter, Lady Godiva. Unlike many whose names have become synonymous with legend, there is no doubt that Lady Godiva actually existed. Indeed, the Domesday Book of 1086 records that Godgifu, to give her the name by which she would have been known, was a substantial landowner in her own right and was married to one of the most powerful noblemen of the day Leofric, Earl of Chester. Both were devoutly religious, and both were generous benefactors to the church. But beneath Leofric’s charitable exterior, there ran an avaricious streak, tinged with a curiously creative imagination that dreamt up a legendary riposte to his wife’s determined nagging. The story begins close to the physical centre of modern Coventry, where stand the bombed out remnants of the once mighty Cathedral. It was around here in 1043 that Leofric and Godiva founded a monastery, which soon became one of the richest in the land “resplendent with gold and gems to a degree unequalled in England at that date”. Soon Leofric had taken control of Coventry’s finances, and initiated a series of magnificent public works the costs of which were borne by the townsfolk, as Leofric began taxing anything he could think of. Meanwhile Lady Godiva had become a generous patron of the arts. She decided that what the hard-pressed populace required more than anything else was a heightening of their aesthetic awareness. At first, she was mystified as to why the rough and ready peasantry appeared unable to appreciate the merits of her artistic vision. It never seems to have entered her mind that the actions of her megalomaniac of a husband had made their lives one long struggle for food and shelter in which pretty pictures were of little use. When the truth finally dawned on her, she went straight to Leofric and insisted that he reduce taxes so that her vision of “art for everyone” could become a reality. Not only did he refuse her demands, but he also laughed so long and so loudly at them, that he fell off his chair and injured his wrist. Godiva promptly launched a counter attack, and began nagging Leofric so incessantly and vociferously that he eventually caved in and acceded to her wishes - but on one condition. He argued that, since the ancient Greeks and Romans considered the naked human body the pinnacle of nature’s perfection, then his wife should take her artistic crusade to its logical conclusion and ride naked through Coventry’s market place. If she would do this, then he in turn would reduce the unpopular taxes. He nearly fell off his chair a second time when his modest and devoutly religious wife accepted the challenge. So it was that, on the appointed day, at the appointed hour - flanked by two fully clothed horsewomen - Lady Godiva removed her clothing, mounted her steed, and cantered proudly into the realm of legend. As she went, her long hair fell across her body and veiled it so thoroughly that, despite the fact that most of the populace had turned out to watch, none saw anything, save her face and “fair legs”. Leofric was so amazed by this miracle that, instead of simply reducing taxes, he abolished them completely. Sadly, the whole story is little more than a myth, and it is doubtful that the real Lady Godiva ever undertook an artistic streak for the benefit of the good citizens of Coventry. Indeed, the earliest written accounts of the event occur some two hundred years after it supposedly happened and, over the centuries, the story has been considerably embellished and re-written before arriving at the version that we know today. Thus, by the 16th century, the ride itself had changed significantly, and Lady Godiva was said to have sent messengers around the town asking everyone to stay indoors and shutter their windows at the appointed hour. Because of her popularity and because they stood to gain from her actions, the citizens were happy to oblige. A hundred or so years later, the antiquarian William Camden visited Coventry and was shown a battered, wooden effigy that inspired him to introduce another character into the legend. Today that same timeworn figure stands encased in glass on the first floor of the Cathedral Lane Shopping Centre. Its blinded eyes and anguished expression are those of a man whose true identity has long since been forgotten. By the time Camden came to write him into the story in the late 17th century, he had assumed a name that is now as famous as that of Godiva herself. He is said to be Peeping Tom, the boy who was struck blind when he ignored the good lady’s wishes, and snuck a brief peek as she rode proudly by in all her natural glory. Minster Lovell, Oxfordshire. The sleepy ruins of Minster Lovell Hall are tucked away behind the delightful St Kenelm’s church, on the tranquil banks of the River Windrush, in what is one of England’s most beautiful villages. It is haunted by the ghost of Francis, the first Viscount Lovell, and a fervent Yorkist who fled to the continent following the defeat of his King, Richard 111, at the battle of Bosworth. He then made his way to Ireland where the “Pretender” Lambert Simnel was crowned King and, in whose company, he returned to Yorkshire to raise an army which then met with Henry V11’s forces at the battle of Stoke. Defeated again, Francis is said to have escaped by swimming his horse across the River Trent and galloping hell for leather back to Minster Lovell Hall where he had himself locked up in an underground room, the location of which was known only to an old retainer. With only his pet dog for company, he was dependent upon this faithful servant for food and drink. One day, the servant died suddenly, leaving his master incarcerated and helpless in what became his underground prison and eventually his tomb. There he remained until the 18th century when, during the fitting of a new chimney, the builders uncovered a large underground vault in which they found the entire skeleton of a man sprawled across a table with the bones of a little dog at its feet! His doleful revenant has wandered the ruins ever since, a forlorn figure in a billowing cloak whose manifestations are often accompanied by the dreadful sounds of “groans, footsteps and rustling papers” emanating from “somewhere beneath the ground”. The text on this page is the copyright 2004 of author Richard Jones. It may not be reproduced in any form whatsoever without the express permission of the copyright holder or of his publishers, New Holland Publishers Ltd. |