This started as a walk in the woods to check out some ruins but it quickly resulted in quite the historic rabbit hole for me. I could already tell that this was once a fancy place, because of how pretty the ruins were, but I wasn't expecting much in the way of a story, because the average write-ups on it seem to regurgitate the same woefully basic information. They gave the name of the family, the date of construction and the reason it ended up the way it did three centuries later, all copied and pasted from the same source, with no actual detail. And what a tragedy that is, because digging a little deeper uncovers an entire saga of murder, adultery, political rivalry and pirates, all wrapped up in the Civil War, during which the big cheese of the estate at the time, Thomas Bulkeley, invited King Charles over to use the mansion as his base of operations.
The mansion is still there, albeit barely. Along with its fairly extravagant gardens, it has since been swallowed by woodland, and the remnants are still sticking out through the overgrowth as nature gradually takes it all back. It has a very Tomb Raider vibe to it. This is the sort of place one can visit mutliple times and find something new each time, and I'm going to uncover and document as much as I can, enjoying the fuck out of these woods as I gradually make my way over to the mansion itself, and talk about the family that lived here and their wacky ways.
Arguably the prettiest and most well known feature of this place is the folly.
It's gorgeous, made only better somehow by the fact that it's being reclaimed by nature. There is a staircase inside which leads up to the top of it, where once there would have been a viewing platform to look out over the garden.
There's not much to look out over anymore, due to the dense woodland, but older images exist, showing this exact spot as it once appeared centuries ago.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
So as you can see, there was once a fountain over yonder, and much to my delight, another old image shows a view of the folly from the fountain.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
And let me tell you, for something that's directly in front of the folly, it sure was tough to find! This was mainly because walking in a straight line through these woods is near impossible, but also because the fountain has been almost completely hidden by nature.
All that remains of the fountain now is this circular bog, but I'm sure there's some brilliant stone work underneath this moss and bush too. Someday in the future it might all be exposed so that it can be appreciated again.
It's also worth mentioning that the gardens eventually lead to a bridge. This was one of the former entrances of the estate. The bridge is also quite boggy now, having been used over the years by adventuerers as a means of access to the mansion.
The bridge leads us to one of the mansions surviving outbuildings, the southern lodge, which can just be seen sticking out through all the jungle.
I've already mentioned Thomas Bulkeley and his occupancy of this area during the Civil War, but it was his father Richard who had this place built in 1618, although it would be reconstructed significantly in 1776. The Bulkeley's originated in Cheshire, where records from the 1300s refer to their surname as "de Bulkelegh." At some point prior to 1450, a William Bulkeley became the deputy constable of the local castle here and ultimately ended up marrying the daughter of one of the local big cheeses, and consequentially ended up owning quite a bit of land. From then on, his family continued to grow and procure land, expanding their property and growing in influence, finally resulting in Williams descendant, Richard, having this place built to be the seat of his family, and also for providing accomodation for the Prince of Wales on his way to Ireland.
According to the internet, Richard was born in 1533. His father, also according to the internet, was born in 1524. This immediately gives me a rather cynical view on the information I have to hand. Either Daddy Bulkeley was getting laid as a pre-teen or the information is wrong. I mean, is this even possible? I didn't even know my penis could do that when I was nine. Back then it was solely for
urinating and sometimes playing with the cat when I couldn't find a piece of string (OUCH btw). Shooting my DNA into people never crossed my mind.
Historically the age of consent was pretty low back then, but it wasn't that low. It was twelve up until they raised it to thirteen in 1875, and then finally sixteen in 1885. It's just taking a while for the news to reach Telford. Anyway, while it's not completely implausible, I'm definitely leaning more towards the information being wrong.
Richard
had a pretty successful career. He first served the nearby castle as a constable in 1561, before becoming mayor of the nearby town in 1562. He was then elected into parliament in
1563, although my sources hint that his father might have been pulling some dodgy strings there.
I know, right? Politicians bending the rules? Alert the media!
Richard then ended up as high sheriff of Anglesey in 1573. There's more to his story than just regurgitating years and career changes though. In 1573 his father died, and Richard was immediately suspicious of his step-mother, Agnes. His father had also been a politician and once while he was off attending parliament, Richard had witnessed Agnes getting seranaded by some whippersnapper named William Kendrick. He concluded that she was being unfaithful to his father, and jumped to the conclusion that Agnes had poisoned him so that she could be with Kendrick. She was found not guilty of murder, but she was confirmed to be an adulteror.
This wasn't the only controversy Richard was involved in. When one of his servants was tried for murder, Richard bullied the witnesses in order to sway court proceedings in his favour. He was also taken to court himself, accused of "assaulting" the Bishop of Chesters house. I'm not sure what "assaulting" entails in this context.
Whatever, it's fair to say that Richard was a bit of a nob.
This is the south lodge interior, lacking its floors, essentially now just a hollow rectangle with doorways and fireplaces.
Richard
was knighted in 1577, and then got into a variety of power struggles
across Wales, most notoriously with Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester. This guy had a lot of territory in Wales, and he wanted to expand further west, treading on Richard Bulkeleys toes somewhat. There was a territorial dispute, and Richard won. The Earl of Leicester swore revenge, and because this is basically two rich guys having a dick measuring contest, the revenge was sure to be petty.
This revenge finally happened in 1586, when Owen Wood of Rhosmor accused Richard Bulkeley of not only oppressing his townfolk but also of being involved in the Babington plot to assassinate Queen Elizabeth (the first. Our current Lizzie is not that old).
The Earl of Leicesters role in this varies from source to source. Some say he was pulling the strings in the background while others say that the Earl outright testified against Richard, claiming that he was regularly meeting with Thomas Salisbury, one of Anthony Babingtons accomplices. Either way, Richard was aware that the Earl of Leicester was behind these pretty serious allegations, and it boiled his piss.
Luckily for him, Queen Elizabeth didn't believe a word of it. She was quite close to both the Earl of Leicester and Richard Bulkeley. She's even alleged to have slept with Bulkeley in his London residence in 1577. But while Richard was found to be not guilty of plotting to kill the Queen, he was strongly criticised by the courts for "molesting" Owen Wood. But don't get too excited. The word
"molest" derives from the Latin "molestare," meaning "To disturb,
trouble or annoy," and in the 1500s it was used to describe harassment.
It didn't actually become synonymous with sexual assault until 1950.
The petty squabbles with the Earl of Leicester continued, and eventually resulted in a plot to murder Bulkeley. He would be traversing the Thames via barge, and the Earl of Leicester hired several boats with the intention of attacking and drowning him. Richard found out about this, and rather than cancel his barge trip, he decided instead to borrow the lord mayors personal barge and fill it with men blowing trumpets and banging drums, to make his journey impossible to ignore and guarantee that there would be too much public attention for an attack to be possible.
The Earl still tried to swing this in his favour, by going to the Queen and saying "Look at this madman, making a scene on the river.
What a buffoon." Richard then explained to the Queen why he was doing what he was doing, and the Queen, like an exasperated parent, ordered the two to sort their shit out and make up.
When it comes to Richards offspring, the information that's out there gets a bit murky. He was said to have disowned his firstborn son because he married a commoner, but the internet only lists one son for Richard, that being Thomas the buddy of King Charles I. According to the internet, Thomas did marry twice, but all the children born of his first wife came after Richards death, and that it was after this that he married a commoner woman with the surname of Cheadle, the daughter of one of the servants, who we'll get to. The point is, Thomas can't be the disowned son, because Richard needed to be alive to realise that Thomas had married Cheadle. He must have had another child. The internet doesn't list any additional children, but Thomas was born in 1585, when Richard was 52. There's no way Richard wouldn't have already spawned a son by that point. I mean, the man was married, and he also shagged the Queen so he clearly didn't have any difficulty in the dating game.
Richard became a member of parliament again in 1604 and again in 1614, and finally had this place built in 1618. He died in the mansion in 1621, aged 88.
Also hidden in tbese woods is the old family ice house.
Finding it took considerable effort. I didn't realise at first that I was actually standing on it. Unfortunately the entrance has been sealed up. It's ironic too, because there are far more dangerous structures dotted around, as we'll see.
Also present in these woods is a camp site, and somebody has taken serious issue with this, and written an angry note to the campers for littering and chopping down trees.
They do make a pretty good point, but I did find the additional "How dare you" written on the brickwork around the fireplace a little comedic.
Also dotted around the former gardens are these weird square stone formations, which I assume are old grow houses for a variety of exotic plants that would have decorated the garden. There's literally dozens of these to be found in the woods, but I won't show them all. Once you've seen one, you've seen them all.
These little pegs stick out of them, where presumably the top portion of the grow houses would have attached.
The path around the garden went in a small circle that can still be seen here, just about.
Also hidden in these woods is the Bulkeley family pet cemetery.
I've covered a pet cemetery before in this blog. They were all the rage in the Victorian era, when the whole concept of keeping animals for anything other than a utility really took off. In fact several breeds of dog came into existence during the Victorian era because lapdogs were a fashion accessory for Victorian women. As such, the biggest grave here is for the deceased pooch of Magdalen Bulkeley, which she had buried in 1906. Magdalen was among the final occupants of the house, along with her husband and children. She was also the official comptroller for Queen Victoria, but we'll get to her.
The other pets weren't so affectionately remembered, getting only basic graves with their names and dates.
Maisy died during Christmas. Or maybe she was a Christmas present? I hope it's the latter, because the other option is a bit depressing.
The earliest grave here belongs to Dear Old Mite, who died in 1894. Although there could be more hidden in the bushes, or sunk into the ground.
Rascal also has Christmas written on his grave, which definitely makes me think they were presents. It sure would be grim if Rascal and Maisy both died on Christmas.
Maybe they were chickens.
Having disinherited his son, Richard had originally left his mansion instead to someone else, also named Richard. All
the legal bullshit surrounding who was a legimate Bulkeley is complicated by the fact that Richard acknowledged the legitimacy of his
grandchildren, even if he refused to acknowledge the legimacy of
their parents, and also by the fact that there are so many Richards. So while some sources make mention of this younger Richard as Richard Bulkeleys son, others make mention of him as Thomas Bulkeley's nephew, which would make him Richard Bulkeley's grandson.
Whoevers bollocks and womb he came out of, young Richard was all set to inherit the hall. This rubbed a few people the wrong way. The older Richards wife somehow concluded that if Young Richard was getting the hall, she'd end up getting nothing, and so she encouraged Thomas Bulkeley to steal the deeds to the house in 1621, while his father Older Richard lay dying. This threw the entire estate into a bit of an uproar and I'm not sure how it was all resolved. Young Richard did ultimately get the hall. He just didn't have it for very long.
There was a chap called Thomas Cheadle, and if anyone is the villain of the story, it's him. Or at the very least, he's as much of a villain as you're going to get from a story where the protagonists are as morally dubious as the Bulkeleys. Thomas Cheadle was the son of one of the servants, namely the Older Richard Bulkeley's solicitor and shipping agent. He was born in 1599, and while he did well academically, he was always a bit devious and self-serving. When he was thirteen, he decided to run away from home and become a pirate. And this wasn't just a young boy fantasising either. He really did become a pirate. He came crawling back when he was seventeen, the law having caught up with him. He was tried for "piracy of the high seas," but Old Richard Bulkeley clearly had a soft spot for the boy, because he pulled some strings, got him a full pardon from King Charles, and employed him as a servant at this brand new mansion.
Hiring a pirate. What could possibly go wrong?
Well firstly, it turned out he was having an affair with the younger Richards wife, and she was pregnant.
Secondly, in the 1630s, young Richard Bulkeley died, due to his tobacco being laced with rat poison. Cheadle and the widow attended court under the accusation of poisoning him, but they were found not guilty. However, the Bishop of Bangor later confirmed that Cheadle had bribed everyone involved, so he almost certainly did it, presumably to get his hands on the Bulkeley estate, and also to gain paternity over the baby.
This is what happens when you hire a pirate! They murder you and steal your wife and newborn child! Don't do it!
Next,
Cheadle went about disinheriting two of Richard Bulkeleys offspring,
Robert and Margaret, the two who could potentially inherit the hall. Having married into wealth, he used this newfound power to deny Robert and Margaret their legitimacy, forcing them to change their names and take commoner jobs. He even had Robert imprisoned until he renounced his birthright. The two eventually sought legal action but it doesn't seem like anything came of it.
Those poor rich kids, forced to work 9-5 for minimum wage... what a travesty...
Actually I think this would make a fantastic reality TV show! Imagine Jacob Rees-Mogg being forced to work at McDonalds. No offence to anyone who works there, but let's be honest, it would be hilarious. But I digress!
Of the Bulkeley's, Thomas seems to have stayed in Cheadles good books. But it is worth noting that that Thomas Bulkeleys second wife was a Cheadle, so maybe that's why.
Here we have the remains of the halls greenhouses. The glass is long gone, but the frames remain.
There's also this little stairway leading downwards, but it's filled in and impossible to explore.
Now, As you can probably guess by the walls, the garden here was tiered, ending in a stairway that led up to the hall itself. Here's how it used to look:
(Photo not mine, obviously)
Here's the same stairway now, mostly filled in with dirt and woodland, but the mansion itself is just visible through the trees.
And here it is, a shadow of its former glory. It's a ruin, but it's a sexy ruin.
I'm not sure if Lady Bulkeley and her new pirate husband Thomas Cheadle actually lived here, but it makes sense that they did, given the effort that had gone into removing any heirs. But by all accounts, Cheadles actions hadn't gone unnoticed by the locals, and they hated him. This reputation did absolutely nothing to stop Cheadles rise to power though. The Earl
of Dorset made him deputy constable at the castle, and eventually sheriff
of the town in 1642. When the English civil war broke out, Cheadle was originally a royalist suppporter, and he focused a lot of wealth and attention on fortifications, particularly on an abandoned motte and bailey castle that had been burned down back in 1094. He adapted it into an artillery fort and named it Lady Cheadle's fFort. I can't help but wonder if this name choice wasn't intentional to rub his victories in the faces of his detractors. The locals certainly saw his efforts as more political than ot of a genuine concern for their safety, and they were right. Cheadle wasn't really loyal to anyone, and after the Royalists lost a series of battles in 1646, he invited General Mytton of the Parliamentarians leader to the castle, which he then surrendered to them.
If he ever occupied the mansion, I'm not sure when he stopped, but somehow Thomas Bulkeley ended up inheriting it. This was possibly due to the fact that Cheadle went to prison three times between 1646 and 1653 for treason and debt. Given all the complications and bullshit that had gone on before, Thomas Bulkeley was pretty shocked to discover that the mansion was now his. He had even been making plans to move overseas and join the colony of Virginia. But now that he'd inherited his fathers home, he opted to stay.
Here's how it used to look:
(Picture not mine, obviously)
Around the other side, we also have these rather gorgeous pillars over the main entrance, supporting a balcony that King Charles allegedly once stood on and looked out across the land when he was invited here by Thomas Bulkeley.
As a passionate royalist, Thomas was a key player in the Royalist insurrections in Anglesey in 1648, and presumably it's after this that King Charles was invited to visit.
The
Bulkeley's typically follow similar career paths, and there's not a lot
of detail. Robert became Sheriff of Anglesey in 1658, and a member of
parliament in 1660, 1675, and 1685. He died in 1688, and the hall was
inherited by his son, Richard. He in turn passed it down to his own son
named Richard in 1704.
Thomas also had a son, who he imaginatively named Richard. This Richard was a
Royalist colonel during the Civil War, but his most notable contribution
to the saga is that he's the one who finally had enough of Cheadles
crap, and challenged him to a duel. Now some say that he challenged
Thomas Cheadle to a duel, but others say that it was Cheadles son. It's
an intriguing claim, given that Cheadles son was quite possibly the son
of the poisoned Richard Bulkeley, which would make him this Richard
Bulkeley's cousin. But that's just my speculation, and nothing can be confirmed, least of all in a story where people don't even know if it was Thomas Cheadle or his son who even attended the duel. Either way, the duel
took place in 1650, and Richard Bulkeley died. Had Cheadle won
again? Not this time. The townsfolk were tired of his crap too, and he
was sentenced to death for murder, the hanging finally taking place in
1653. The family feud was finally over, and when Thomas Bulkeley died in 1659, the hall was passed down to his younger son, Robert.
The interior of the hall is entirely gutted, with only a few signs of its former splendor here. The upper floors are long collapsed and the ground floor is slowly being taken over by nature.
Richard Bulkeley the great-grandson of Thomas has a little more substance to his story, although he's no less a nob than those who came before him. He's said to have been very arrogant with a violent temper, and he was known for his political feuds. The torys loved him, but he was a bitter rival of the whigs, a now-obsolete political party that merged with the liberal party in the 1850s. Richards hatred for the whigs went to silly extremes, most notably refusing to renew a lease on a ferry in 1707 because a whig, Owen Hughes, was running it, even trying to give the ferry service to Owens business rivals instead, purely because of Owen's political views.
And as is always the case in these petty feuds, Owen Hughes got revenge by exposing Richards neglect of the local castle, and his procuring of building materials for personal use.
Richards other long-term rival was Serjeant John Hooke. All I really found on this feud was that Richard reported him for... demanding presents. I mean, that's what the official report says. The context specifies that Hooke and his predecessors in his profession often received a customary gift from the townsfolk, as a token of gratitude for their work. In this case Hooke wanted some coal delivered to his lodgings. However he'd gone a bit overboard by fining the mayor for not doing it. In this case I can kinda see why Richard felt that there was an injustice done.
Richard was aware that his feuds weren't helping his political career and attempted to reconcile with some of his enemies in order to save face before the next election, but it sort of backfired when the public regarded it as a sign of weakness. Nevertheless, despite the political feuding, in the 1710 election, Richard had a hundred votes more than his opponent, the Whig Owen Meyrick, out of 360 voters. In spite of this advantage, Richard still feared that his opponents would find some dirt on him, so he consulted legal advice, asking which dubious practices were permissable, or at least, what could he get away with being caught doing.
Bulkeley himself was then charged with beating to death a local ferryman, although curiously he never went down for murder. Evidently there was a lot he could get away with being caught doing.
Bulkeley himself was then charged with beating to death a local ferryman, although curiously he never went down for murder. Evidently there was a lot he could get away with being caught doing.
But I think that merely needing to seek legal advice of this sort tells us everything we need to know about Richard. He was just unapologetically an arse.
In 1711, Lloyd
Bodvel, the nephew of Owen Hughes, allegedly threatened to murder Richard, all over the same ferry disputes. Richard tried to get him done for libel, because apparently he was saying some rather unpleasant things about him, but this was all dismissed as a waste of the courts time. Why come down on someone for calling Richard an arse, when the entire town and Richard himself knew he was an arse? Eventually the offer was made to drop the case if Bodvel sent a written acknowledgement of his wrongdoing to Richard. Bodvel refused and the charges were dropped anyway.
Richard was suspected of being a sympathiser of King James II, who was in exile at the time, having been deposed in 1688 to make way for his daughter, Mary. There's a whole mess there of politics, religion and royalty. But basically supporters of James II, or Jacobites (derived from the Latin version of James, Jacobus), believed that monarchs were chosen by God and should not be removed, making any monarch after 1688 illegitimate. But times were changing and Jacobism was a bit controversial. Richard did burn a few paintings of his percieved false monarch during a rebelion in 1715, but otherwise it seems he kept his head down.
In this room, I found something rather unexpected. There are stairs spiraling upwards!
The only catch was, the stairs have collapsed in some places, leaving big gaps between steps. Luckily, some genius has bridged these gaps with planks of wood. It's alright on the first gap, but higher up there's a bigger gap over a bigger, potentially brutal drop.
Still, I bet the view is spectacular from up there. But only a fool would climb along that plank...
Whoopsie! Well, it wouldn't be one of my adventures if I didn't find a way to nearly die, would it? Getting down again might be fun, but that's Future Me's problem. Up we go!
The planks were actually pretty solid, although the long one did sag a bit in the middle. But that's nothing. It was these steps that made me pause for a bit.
Look at that. These aren't going to last forever. Someday these will come crashing down onto some unsuspecting adventurer below, maybe even with someone on top of them. Would it be me?
Nope! They held my weight. The only human who nobody will miss, and I just can't die. How hilariously tragic and ironic. These steps are only going to decline though, so if you're ever here and you make it this far, don't see my success as a sign that you'll be fine too. Be careful.
There's somegraffiti up here. I guess after people have made the effort, they kinda feel like they need to show it somehow.
It's quite complimentary and makes a nice change from genitalia, edgy name tags and pentagrams. I guess the people who wrote it felt that whoever makes it up here deserves a compliment.
There's a nice view here of the balcony, albeit no real way of getting to it. I took a moment to sit in the window and people-watch, because I was far from the only human who had decided to come take a look at the mansion that day. Many of them didn't even spot me, until I said "Hello" and freaked them out. They looked everywhere for the source of the voice, except upwards.
It suddenly occured to me that anyone on ground level could really ruin my day just by removing the planks that I'd be using to get down, so after a while I decided not to call too much attention to myself.
I'm loving the view from up here.
Unfortunately the rest of the building needs to have an upstairs floor in order for this upstars hallway to go anywhere. Since it doesn't, it's time to go back downstairs.
Here at the front of the building, you can see the window I was sat in, just to the left of the balcony, where the ivy is climbing up the building. Thanks to a jewellery maker from North Wales, Ellen Thorpe, whose website you can see if you click her name there, I have a photo of this hall from the 1980s, taken by her father.
As you can see, it was already derelict in the 1980s, but hadn't quite gotten as ruinous as it is today. This looks like internally it could still be explorable upstairs. Had I been born a few decades earlier, I'd be writing a very different piece on this place.
So in regards to the Bulkeley's, Richard the angry politician died in 1724, and his son, another Richard, took the hall. In regards to his career, this Richard followed much the same footsteps, but he had no kids, so the hall was given to his brother James in 1738.
As
a personal favourite tie-in to other blogs, James married Emma Rowlands in 1749, and she was the
great-grand daughter of William Owen, who was also the great-great
grandfather of Mary-Jane Ormsby, thereby making all future Bulkeleys
distant cousins of the Harlechs of Brogyntyn. William Owen's wife,
Catherine, was also the great-great-great-great grand daughter of
Richard ap Hywel whose lineage would create the Cyclops Cavern. Everything
is connected.
Like
his father, Angry Politician Richard, James Bulkeley was a supporter of King James II, and his son Charles,
who would have been Charles III had he made it to the throne. James
Bulkeley was actually involved in a plot, whereupon he would lead an
uprising against the actual King, who at this point was George II. The
uprising never took place.
It
was his son, Thomas, who had the hall next, following the death of
James in 1752. It was under Thomas Bulkeley's time here that the building recieved an extensive reconstruction, although it's hard to say what was here prior to his time here, and what was added on. Thomas
changed his surname legally to Warren-Bulkeley, taking his
father-in-laws surname. I'm not sure why. He died in 1822, and his wife followed ten years
later. With no children, no Bulkeleys remained to inherit the hall.
For
a while it was empty, and some of their belongings were inherited by
different people. It was during this point that all of the Bulkeley's posessions and records were uncovered, confirming everyones suspicions that they'd been sympathisers of the exiled King James II. Among their things were two busts of King James II and his son Charles, along with a secret stash of letters from King James II and others who held similar beliefs.
Here we have the exposed cellars of the mansion, or at least, some of them. They actually go quite far underneath the ruins, and I'll probably get to them last.
So Thomas Bulkeley had no children. However he had half-siblings, what with his mother re-marrying in 1760. She'd married a chap named Hugh Williams, the eighth Baron of a Baronetcy created by Oliver Cromwell back in 1658. In the end it was Hughs grandson and Thomas Bulkeley's step-nephew, Richard Williams, who inherited the hall, under the condition that he change his name, hyphenating it to Williams-Bulkeley in an attempt to keep the Bulkeley name alive.
It was a small price to pay for inheriting a great big mansion, and Richard Williams-Bulkeley moved into the house in 1826.
In
direct contrast with the earlier occupants of the hall, Richard
Williams-Bulkeley was a whig! The former angry politician Richard Bulkeley would
be rolling in his grave to think of a whig sleeping in his former
bedroom, and dining in his former dining room, surely. He didn't even like whigs operating the local ferry service. Now they were shitting in his loo.
Anyway, the final Richard Williams-Bulkeley married Queen Victoria's comptroller, Magdalen Yorke, the daughter of the fifth Earl of
Hardwicke. It's her pooch that dominates the pet cemetery. Magdalen and this final Richard were pretty well connected, and I've managed to find this old photograph of them sat here at the mansion with some of their friends.
(Picture not mine, obviously)
This picture was taken in 1907. The two men at the back- left to right, are Hugh Robert Hughes of Kinmel Hall, and Lord Tweedmouth.
Bottom
row, left to right, we have Rihard Williams-Bulkeley,
unaware at this point that he would be the last occupant of the house, Queen Alexandra of Denmark, Magdalen Bulkeley, King Edward VII who was Queen Victorias son, Richard and Magdalens young daughter, Siriol, Princess Victoria, who was Edward and Alexandras daughter, and lastly the Countess of Gosford. King Edward and Queen Alexandra
of Denmark are the Great-Grandparents of our current Queen, so it's
quite mindblowing to be here, having stood on the exact spot where they have sat in this picture.
Unfortunately after the massacre that was World War One, Richard and Magdalen found that they could no longer afford the upkeep of the mansion, what with being swamped with death duties. They were forced to move into more modest accomodation, and the hall entered a period of neglect.
Written on one of the walls is "Guard Room," a remnant from the mansions final use in the 1940s, when it was appropriated for military use, housing a few soldiers. By this point, the mansion had fallen into a bit of neglect and was rather cold. Personally this wouldn't be an issue for me. If I was given a derelict mansion to live in, I'd be far too happy to complain about the cold. I'd just get a few extra blankets. The army guys weren't so happy and thought that if the mansion were to "accidentally" catch on fire, they'd be relocated to warmer accomodation. And so, the world lost an architectural gem, all because of a bunch of unappreciative drudgeons. In a nice act of justice, the soldiers didn't get their wish, instead being relocated to tents in the garden. And good! I hope they froze their bollocks off.
The hall has done nothing but rot away ever since. Rumours do float around about angry landowners trying to keep out trespassers, but it seems that if you walk around these ruins, you're far more likely to find other trespassers than angry landowners. If anyone cares about people coming here, they've put about as much effort into showing it as the Bulkeley's put into diversifying the names in their family tree.
This room was apparently the kitchen.
From here, steps lead downwards, away from the main hall, to the servants quarters.
And here we have the old laundry room, or so I've read. Apparently the wheels in the walls are remnants of old washing equipment, and they still rotate too!
This is pretty cool. I love that even throughout the ruins, there are still things like this.
Arguably the servants quarters have slightly more going for them than the rest of the mansion, as we'll see. I guess when the hall was abandoned, the stuff from the main house was considered more important.
There's another cellar entrance here, but it's all collapsed and filled in.
There's loads of old contraptions cluttering up the area. I have no idea what any of it does, or did, but I just love that it's still here
While there is graffiti all over the ruin, there seems to be one area in particular that is the focal point of the "drudgeon" graffiti. That is, the people who have nothing to say, but have to say something.
And in this case, what they have to say is "The Underground HipHop crew."
Someone has corrected it to "Hibhob" which is kinda funny. Generally, the edgier someone tries to be, the more hilarious I find them, and whoever corrected this thought the same.
I actually googled them to see if they are a band, or whatever you call people who make hiphop. It's not my genre so I genuinely don't know. Oddly enough the google search only brought up photos of this room, some dated as far back as 2011.
I also like that it's still possible to see where the stairs in the servants quarters would have been. Now they're probably on the floor somewhere underneath all the rubble and nature.
Through this door here we have the best part of any abandoned building, the toilet.
It's still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.
Here we have the old stables.
The trough is still here, but then it is a big metal box, so it's not exactly going to decay quickly. It's probably not the best water to feed a horse though.
The stables also have tiled walls, and many of the tiles remain. Some people have mentioned taking a tile for a souvenir over the years, but this seems to largely be locals keen to get a fragment of their areas history.
There's a retro cooker here, and next to it is one of the halls old carts, now turned on to its side.
It's literally just a frame now, but I don't care. It's very cool to find something like this in a place so severely decayed.
Before I get to the cellar, I just have one last Surface feature to show, and that's this thing. I'm not sure what purpose it could have ever served, but it has these stairs leading up to the roof.
Obviously the roof has long gone, and there seems to be very little point in climbing these steps at all. However I am a completionist.
Last but not least, we have the part that truly makes me giddy... the cellar.
The cellars were easy to find, given the missing floorboards. The metal framework down there was a little low, and I would sustain many a head injury as I made my way along. Obviously it can't have been too bad, but if I do ever suffer a lack of self esteem from suspicions of brain damage, I'll just head over to Facebook, where nobody knows how to spell. That'll make me feel better.
Wait, what am I talking about? Feeling better than grumpy people on Facebook... that's like saying that I feel better than cancer. Maybe I do have brain damage!
There are two ways down into the cellar- An internal set of steps that would rapidly transform into a mudslide if it rained, and an external staircase that was once protected by a metal grate. I went down the first ones, because I didn't spot the easier ones until I was down there. Whoops.
Now, the obvious thing to point out is that going into a cellar in a building like this is stupid. The floor above me is not only weak, but also has the rubble from the upper floors on it, so this isn't exactly the safest thing I've ever done. However it's not the most dangerous either. I did climb a church naked once.
Interestingly, there's no graffiti down here. The wall-scrawlers evidently value their own lives before spraying a swastika or a penis on the wall. Let's face it, anyone who feels the need to draw a swastika on the wall is either a wuss or too stupid to know how to use stairs anyway.
The cellar is actually pretty huge and has this gated-off dungeon area. Josef Fritzl would be drooling if he could see this.
I'm not sure why a cellar would have such a gate inside it. It has a lock and everything. Whatever the Bulkeley's kept down here, they wanted to make it a challenge to get to. Was it all of their Jacobean relics? The head of Thomas Cheadle? Just their booze?
Honestly, the fact that eleven generations of the same family lived here fills me with intrigue. The cellar in the early 1800s would have been full of treasures and artifacts. I've only covered the main Bulkeley's too, but I know for a fact that one of the Richards raised at least eight children in this house.
Speaking of numerous occupants, the last room of the cellar had one of the largest bat colonys I have have come across.
Do you see them? Usually it's hard to snap bats when they're in mid-flight, but in this case I only had to keep shooting continuously and I was guaranteed to get one, because they were zooming about overhead costantly. At this point I was crouching, because bats like to aim for the head and veer off at the last minute. I'm not sure if they do it intentionally, but even knowing that they won't crash into me, it's difficult to not flinch when something aims fo the head.
Look at these adorable bastards! I've seen loads of bats before on my adventures, but I don't think I've ever seen so many in one place.
In 2007 some very ambitious plans were announced to turn this mansion into luxury apartments. I have to be hgonest, I don't see that happening. The place is a ruin, and if it has a bat colony then any developers legally have to re-house them before any progress can be made. It looks like this place is going to stay the way it is for a while. However if anything was to be done with it, it would be nice if certain aspects like the pet cemetery and the folly could be preserved too so that could be and appreciated by future generations.
I'm not expecting any change soon though.
That's all I have for this place. If you're a British urban explorer, you'll probably know it. If you don't, then there's plenty of clues here. It's a good place for beginners, but it also offers additional challenges for those of us who are adrenaline junkies or completionists. Bring someone if you do want to take on the riskier aspects. Worse case scenario, they can get help if you hurt yourself, and best case scenario, you can laugh at the from high up for doubting that you'd make it.
In my next blog, I'm looking at a small hospital, and then I'm looking at a huge religious thing. In the meantime, follow me on social media. I'm most active on Instagram, but you can also find me on Vero, which is like Instagram but with less people and no shittty algorithm, Spacehey the reincarnated Myspace, Reddit, and also the grumpier networks- Facebook, where everybody is offended by female Doctor Who, and Twitter, where everybody is offended by male Doctor Who.
Thanks for reading!
