National Trust Day Trip: Whitley Court

Here I sit at the desk of my current lodgings the Bishop-Cook Flat at 11:55 pm, before I retire to the comfort of the bed I am determined to shed some light on more of my travel activites with a look into the second National Trust Day Trip to the grande ruins of Whitely Court.

The most admirable element to this fine building that sets it wonderfully apart from the previous abodes I walked the hallowed halls of is that this one has very little of its halls left. This is due to an all encompassing fire in 1937 which devastated the granduer of the building, the orange fiend licking the riches into black dusty death. It is a monolithic building that challenges your imagination to fill in the gaps that surround the ruins. As you walk the gutted estate you are accompanied by an audio tour that drifts the ghostly images of its once spectacular aristocracy into your conscious.

The added marvel of the estate is the unparraleled skill and labour that was required to craft the Perseus & Andromeda Fountain located in the centre of the gardens that the court casts its aged eyes over. Those of you that know me well will be aware that my passionate interest in mythology would have been tickled by this sight, but not only that the technological aspect of the water feature is unfathomable, using up to 18,000 litres of water pumped from a pool to a resovoir nearly half a mile away it feeds the many jets and spurts including the centre jet which erupts in water from a sea monster's mouth and reaches up to 36 metres in hight.

Photos do not do it justice at all.

The surrounding land is littered with rustic delights, and there is just something too surreal about walking the red and golden littered pathways picking up fresh chestnuts from the ground and enjoying what the squirrel savours. Upon reading about the country house I came across a quote courtesy of historian Christopher Hussey who in 1945 wrote;

"classic order in dissolution, set among rampant vegetation and under the open sky is the very substance of romance."

The images that are conjured from that quote alone, the ones you are dreamily imagining right this moment as you read those words are increased tenfold and you become lost in the moment, as visuals that are too pretty for photographs to effectively communicate the charm surround you.

As always I like to impart a little of the history, the mansion itself has evolved from a simple Jacobean house and first starting expanding in the 1720's and 1730's by "Baron Foley" reaching it's absolute peak in the 1850's under the Earl of Dudley. It was still being serviced as a house of the rich in 1937 when on the 7th September the Head Keeper spotted flames spurting from the roof above the servants' rooms in the South-East corner. Of course wind and no sign of Lady Luck allowed the vicious fire to sneak into the reception and grand halls downstairs and soon the entirity of the building was engulfed.

Me, I believe it would have been a site of Victorian flair in its original state, but now, is a shell of greatness, and a reminder that the money in our world burns just as easliy as poor garments and furnishings. Human error will always taunt our world, but still the universe you are invited into is truly spectacular and it is somewhat special to see the current Whitely Court, with its windows reduced to being holes in the walls, its crumbling staircases, shattered brickwork, devastated palatial porticos. A unique view of the class ruled world of England you can almost see the rubble of aristocracy amongst the fallen stones.

There is however one part of the site that is in stunning shape and that is the Church, trust religion to be the only dominating beauty on the grounds (I state that as diplomatically as possible). In truth, it is one of the finest eighteenth century interiors in England. The Parish Church of St. Michael & All Angels is adorned with magnificent baroque windows, embellishments and panelling on the roof. Easily one of the warmest religious buildings I have walked into, a glow of yellow gold streaming into the House of God. The altar guarded by monuments to Lord Foley and his family gives an air of homliness to the open space, a safe haven. Perhaps it was a blessing it was not destroyed by the fire, a sign it was left untouched. I'm not a great religous man myself, who knows.

Before I depart I want to thank all the messages people have been leaving so far as I can tell this is the only place I can thank you all! Its always nice to have the knowledge that those at home and elsewhere are keeping up with my venture of self discovery.