Wales – Cymru.
I’ve come from Abergavenny in South Wales – a town that seems to variously shift between the county boundaries of Gwent and Monmouthshire – to explore a so-called folly set atop the mountains that surround the beautiful Usk Valley between Raglan and Llanarth.
Always a bit of a pushover for something deemed a folly – who decides, I wonder – I checked the dictionary and thesaurus to establish its meaning and a wonderful selection of words appeared in front of me to mean something built in a state of “absurdity” and “lunacy”. How delightful, I couldn’t wait to see it!
Wending my way through leafy lanes, bluebell woods and early magnolia blossoms, having found the car park I discovered that getting to the folly then necessitated a steep walk of about a mile. It was a trifle daunting but somehow made it all the more alluring; a reward received at the end of a challenge. Rounding the final precipitous bend the castle came into view and I was immediately transported back to some pastoral idyll of the late 18th century – all it required was a be-smocked shepherd tending to his sheep as they grazed the sloping hills around.
My mind leapt and I had visions of evening candlelight flickering from the windows and perhaps the sound of madrigals, or the harpsichord, drifting out from the rooms onto the lawns as dusk fell. The whole place looked like it had been dropped into the middle of nowhere – and so it had, but what a nowhere! Not another building in sight and from every aspect a gaping green landscape shouting out for an exploration into Welsh history.
Built of rendered rubble stone with wonderful crenellation, and those lovely arched Gothic windows that have so much character, the castle just invites speculation and curiosity as to how and why it is here.
I discover that it was built in 1790 by one William Jones of Clytha Park. He had recently lost his wife and desired, as he told the architect John Davenport, to have something made which would encompass both a monument to his wife, and provide a sanctuary and retreat for himself to help relieve his bereavement.
Davenport set out the building based on an L-shape and containing a square two-storeyed block with drum towers to either side. Inside I climb a steep, stone spiral stairway to the top of one of the towers. Someone mentions that this was to be included so that Jones could climb up and throw himself from the top if the grief became too much. Who knows? The tower is roofless and so one is at one with whatever the elements are providing. My research informs me that the tower was designed as a shell to add symmetry to the whole facade. The views from the top of the tower are stunning – ranging, as they do, over great swathes of the Welsh countryside – all so lush and green and, seemingly, laying out geography before the beholder; hills, mountains and river valleys all set out before. Towards the north-west in the distance one can glimpse the wonderfully named Skirrid and Sugar Loaf mountains. I can almost sense those Welsh male voice choirs ringing out across the valleys.
Back inside – a quite perilous descent on the spiral stairway – I step outside to take tea, with Welshcakes, and savour the peace, good weather and magnificent scenery. I find a seat under the many chestnut groves that surround the grounds. The peace and quiet is beautifully interrupted by the arrival of a visiting a cappella choir needing to practise their piece before a performance in front of local dignitaries here later. Their voices seem to float through the air and just add to the rather stately ambience that I sense here.
As I wander through the rest of the castle admiring the various rooms – all with spectacular views, naturally, and beautifully furnished – I find that the castle is now in the hands of the Landmark Trust. As such, the building is available for holiday lets and provides enough accommodation for up to six people. What a wonderful place to escape to or, better still, to enjoy a romantic honeymoon. I can imagine the only impediment to stay is to run out of milk – its either a drive into town or a two mile walk through forest to the village shop.
As I leave this tranquil and beautiful setting I feel very glad that William Jones did not hurl himself from the top of the tower. I have found nothing absurd or lunatic about the man or this lovely place, which so conjures up a sense of the past. And I can’t help but think that the word “folly” is something of a misnomer. One man’s whim perhaps but why not and, to my mind, it has only added to the landscape and left an enduring legacy of history and architecture for others to discover in the future.
For more information about the Landmark Trust, including all properties available to stay at, booking information and holiday ideas, visit www.landmarktrust.org.uk.
