Rival Reviews: Chirk Castle
Fortress and foremost, 700 years is a very long time even if you’re a stone castle.
Chirk Castle is more welcoming now than it would have been to Welsh invaders.
Following his corporate takeover of England in 1066, William the Conqueror set about planning an expansion into Wales by establishing three earldoms along the Welsh-English border. He entrusted these shiny new earldoms of Chester, Shrewsbury and Hereford to his closest Norman confidantes and for the next four hundred years the Norman powers-that-be established smaller marcher lordships along the border. As a result, this area of the UK has more castles per capita than anywhere else on the island.
One of these castles sits atop a hill at the edge of Wrexham, overlooking the Ceiriog valley. It cuts a lonely figure up there, despite its location to a large town, and even from its vantage point there is little to suggest any suburbanisation nearby at all, or perhaps that’s due to the fog.
A drum tower at Chirk, flowers would have been planted a bit later on.
Chirk Castle was built in the late 13th century, after (English) King Edward I defeated (Welsh) Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, the last properly Welsh prince of Wales, in 1282. Ed established the marcher lordship of Chirklands and granted it to some guy called Roger Mortimer in reward for his loyalty, perhaps even funding the castle itself from the royal vaults. Chirk may have been designed by Master James of St George, reigning castle architect for the middle aged and the king's special favourite. So Mortimer must have been super loyal. As with all castles, Chirk was built in a strong strategic position (on top of big hill) on a rocky escarpment (the big hill in question), as best to maximise its defensive capabilities. It has also been suggested that the castle would have originally been lime washed white to stand out from the surrounding landscape, a permanent visual reminder to the locale to not try any funny business.
Though most of the castle now reflects its more recent 18th century use, today visitors can explore the Adam Tower, which still shows signs of the medieval origins of Chirk. The castle’s original defensive exterior also remains mostly intact. At each corner of the structure stand round ‘drum’ towers, so named as they could be longer in diameter than they are in height, which would have supported more archers per capita on the roof. The four corner towers are connected by a sheet wall which is wider towards the base, making it more difficult for siege weapons to get close. In addition, towers are only connected by passageways at the very top level, so each tower would have to be taken individually, slowing down any potential invaders and basically making them look like mugs. If invaders made it that far at all; towers also came equipped with fun features like barricade points and aptly named ‘murder holes’ which allowed defenders to fire arrows or drop rocks and boiling oil onto their hapless foes from above. Take that suckers!
And it turns out Roger Mortimer may well have needed that protection. Despite his loyalty to Edward I, fighting for him in the Battle of Falkirk (where William Wallace the Scottish rebel played with flamboyance, and sly humour by Mel Gibson in Braveheart in 1995, was finally defeated) after building Chirk, he decided he’s had enough of loyalty and decided to back his own nephew for next King of England, picking up arms against Edward II. This backfired and he spent the rest of his life in the Tower of London, dying in 1326. Don't feel too bad for him though, he had a reputation for being a bit of a bastard and a lech.
Obviously Roger had no need for Chirk while rotting away in a cell in London, and as such the castle became something of a trophy, passed to men of import as a reward from the crown and taken away as punishment just as easily. A castle-shaped hot potato. During this time, Chirk came into contact with many familiar faces. In the 15th century Thomas, Earl of Arundel, built further defences (more murder holes?) in response to the Welsh uprising led by Owain Glyndwr, Welsh rebel and hailed as a mythic hero in Wales to this day. It was in the hands of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who was later to be King Richard III for some time before the Wars of the Roses. And in 1563, the castle was granted to Elizabeth I's favourite, Robert Dudley, brother of Guildford Dudley, the husband of the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey.
If the murder holes didn’t get you, the stairs probably would.
Finally in 1595 Chirk was bought by Sir Thomas Myddleton, son of the governor of nearby Denbigh Castle (now a ruin) and successful London merchant. Thomas was one of the founders of the East India Trading Company (which was to become the most powerful corporation in history and is probably best known now for its part in the tea trade with China and the British colonisation of India, Bangladesh and Burma) and had invested wisely in the expeditions of Francis Drake (circumnavigated the globe) and Walter Raleigh (introduced potatoes to England). He bought Chirk with luxury, not defence in mind.
Thomas wasted no time in building the North Range, complete with new dining facilities including a buttery (a storeroom for liquor, not butter - the name comes from the latin for cask or bottle: ‘butte’) This range eventually became the main residential quarters for the family, and the old draughty castle was gradually fobbed off to servants.
Thomas’ son, also Thomas, took residence of Chirk in 1612 after his marriage, but his position as a Parliamentarian General during the English Civil War (a series of scraps between people who liked King Charles II and those who liked parliamentary rule from 1642 - 1651) meant his new digs was captured and held hostage by Royalists for three years. Eventually Thomas Jr switched sides to the Royalists, supposedly due to disillusionment with Cromwell’s leadership, but it also resulted in his nice fancy castle being returned, so I’ll let you decide. The parliamentarians were not impressed to say the least with Thomas’ change of tune, and Chirk was besieged and partially destroyed in 1659.
After the restoration of Charles II in 1660, the Myddtleton family found themselves in a Chirk Castle with no eastern wall and much of the rest of their residence suffering heavy fire damage. They went into the new age with ten years worth of rebuilding to achieve, but thanks to Thomas, Chirk is the only marcher castle still occupied to this day.
The new and improved Chirk was aesthetically a castle, but the tower walls were significantly less thick and they appeared not to have built any murder holes at all. Functional rooms were built at the first floor level, with a walkway underneath in the courtyard. Then in 1663, Thomas’ son Thomas III died, three years before his father. Consequently, he left the 12 year old Thomas IV to inherit Chirk. After an extended Grand Tour in Europe, Thomas the fourth brought the architectural styles of Rome, Athens and Paris to Wrexham, though sadly the long gallery is the only example to remain from this time.
After Thomas died at 32 with no male heirs to inherit, the castle then became property of Thomas’ son-in-law, Richard in 1685 and from there the Myddletons comfortably inhabited Chirk with relatively little incident for roughly 300 years. Each subsequent owner added their own quirks to the building: the north range was extensively refurbished in neoclassical style by architect Joseph Turner in the 1760’s and 70’s following the trend in London, under the watchful eye of Elizabeth Rushout. Her husband, Richard Myddleton (another one) meanwhile focused on the exterior of the estate, creating the garden much as it remains today in the English landscape-style, also following the fashion for the time. The gentry are not very inventive. In the 1820’s, gothic vaulting was added to the north range, as renewed interest in the cathedrals and castles of the bygone medieval era influenced architectural fashions. Victorians did love ornamentation. From 1845, Chirk’s interior was almost totally reworked in the neo-gothic manner by Augustus Pugin (architect of the Houses of Parliament), though only the Cromwell Hall really remains to this day. Gloomy castle evidently was not an aesthetic with staying power.
In the early 20th century, another Richard Myddleton opened Chirk to the public, donating the fee to charity rather than to aid the upkeep of the castle, a generous but perhaps unwise move. To prove the point, in 1911 he was forced to auction off much of Chirk’s land and put the castle up for rent. The new tenant, Thomas Ellis-Scott, was known for his lavish parties, and this Jay Gatsby of Wrexham revived Chirk as something of a play castle, hosting jousts, turning the conservatory into a hawk house and putting suits of armour literally everywhere. He lived at Chirk for 35 years.
Its giving medieval.
When the Myddleton family moved back to Chirk in 1949, the castle was in rough shape. The gothic interiors were reworked to reflect the neoclassical once again but these surface changes came at the expense of more desperately needed structural repairs and it soon became clear that more than changes to the wallpaper was needed. There would be no wall to hang tasteful sconces on if, say, the dodgy 1912 electrical wiring burnt the whole bloody thing to the ground. Consequently, in 1978 Chirk was passed to the state, so they could pay for it instead. When Guy Myddleton, last in line, moved out of the castle in 2004, and the 700 year continuous occupation of Chirk Castle came to an end.
These days Chirk is semi-open to the public, and when you walk under the arched entrance, there are several ways into the building to choose from. I didn’t notice this at first on my visit because I wanted to beat a large family inside and rushed to the nearest A-board indicating an entrance, where I promptly held up the queue digging in my coat pockets for a membership card. Serendipitously, this happened to be the main house tour.
For those who can produce adequate proof for entry in good time, the house tour starts in Cromwell Hall, designed by Augustus Pugin in the 19th century to resemble a medieval hall. The hall as a concept goes way back, and may even have the distinction of being the first room ever, where servants and their masters gathered together to eat, drink and even sleep. This hall borrows from staples of previous iterations. A significant example is the screens hall one must enter before moving into the hall proper, a space partitioned off by half-length wood panels, traditionally to act as a barrier to protect from outside weather and receive visitors, but it could also act as a place for minstrels to perform on a ‘stage’ above. Kind of the hall’s hall. All in, this room at Chirk is a pretty convincing replica.
There follows a brief sojourn of the south and east range; hitting some highlights of the building. Immediately after the hall you ascend to the first floor via a neo-classical stairway, an experience sure to give you architectural whiplash, before visiting the state dining room and the saloon. This is followed by a drawing room with wooden panelling to ease you back into the 17th century in the long gallery, featuring a peek into the state bedroom named after Charles II even though he never slept there ever and some terrifying and inexplicable cut outs of creepy Tudor children. Finally the chapel, which now serves as a family room accessible from the long gallery via a creaky platform along the wall you must walk across before reaching the stairs, which had me feeling like I was on a catwalk. The chapel used to be outfitted with the usual churchy attire, pews, an altar etc, but after falling into disrepair it became a mini concert hall for Lady Howard de Walden, a tenant and accomplished singer, in the 20th century. She changed the chapel to a music room and gave concerts in the inter-war years. And apparently she was very good. The chapel door leads directly out back into the inner courtyard. Unlike the castle’s history, this tour is over very quickly.
Strut your stuff as you walk down to the chapel.
As the exit to the Chapel spits you out at a completely different point in the courtyard, the scramble to get my bearings leads me straight back to the entrance, fortunately I realised this before going in again. Instead I visited the Adam Tower in the West range, the part of the original Chirk that was able to survive the Civil War. Here visitors have the privilege of climbing some very dodgy staircases to reach the chamber of the first Thomas Myddleton, now fitted out with mannequins wearing traditional Tudor garb. Originally the room would be outfitted with tasteful tapestries to decorate and heat the room, but these days nothing remains. Downstairs are the dungeons, but this is closed on the day of my visit. A devastating loss because I love dungeons.
My game of musical doors continues back in the courtyard, and this time the roulette pulls up the entrance to the 16th century servants hall on the south range, a single room that was created to be a habitable space in contrast to the military brusqueness of the rest of the castle. It was co opted as a space for servants in the 18th century, and is laid out in this fashion today, complete with an entirely authentic smoke smell in the air. The final door of the day was the east wing, now converted into a very fun area of activities for kids themed around preservation and architecture. I whipped around but didn’t linger.
I hit up the gardens after lunch. Relatively small as high class gardens go, and first laid out in 1653 by Sir Thomas Myddelton II in the French style, a highlight was four bronze statues of nymphs integrated beautifully into the environment, but otherwise I must admit I wasn’t wowed. The hedges shaped like jelly tots, or welsh hats if you read the plaque, are fun though. I dutifully walked the length of the grounds, and having wrapped up the gardens, I had to run.
Lunch
I had the absolute worst tuna sandwich ever in the cafe at Chirk Castle. Dry and soggy, with claggy bread and under seasoned filling and I have to say I am at the end of my wick. How is it that the National Trust, which operated almost entirely with landed estates and vast swathes of countryside cannot employ local farm shops to provide fresh, actually nice fare rather than centrally produced unexciting sandwiches and dry cakes? And why are the sandwich flavours all so weird? Coronation chicken and cheese and tomato chutney? No. These are no one’s preferred sandwiches. Sort it out.
Is the cafe in the kitchens or the stables?
In the old kitchens accessed via the courtyard of the main house. Makes for a nice cohesive experience.
Can I take my kids?
Recommended entirely, the new kid-friendly wing of the house is a great interaction zone and what kids don’t like castles? Better check the dungeons are open before your visit though.
Can I take my dogs?
Dogs used to be allowed in the house when it was privately owned, but those days are over. Walk them round the grounds instead. Also is it just me or is every dog in Britain slowly being replaced with a cockapoo?
Walks
Probably? The castle is surrounded by open fields and woodland. You do the math. Be aware the area is hilly though.
Well, what did you think?
Ok here’s the thing. Chirk Castle didn’t wow me. Even writing this review was tough. I can’t quite place why even now, but I will try.
I mentioned earlier how Thomas Myddleton no.1 was one of the founders of the East India Company, I also mentioned that it is known as the most powerful corporation in history. It is impossible to overemphasise how much of life as we know it across the world has been dictated by this company. On its conception, the company was granted exclusive licence on trading in the East, and brought cottons, indigo, porcelain, tea, and silks to the UK. This monopoly popularised many things we consider today to be quintessentially British; where would we be without a cup of tea, after all? But the monopoly also led to price gouging, and following complaints the government cut the company’s privileges in 1813. The company was left with only a monopoly on a few key products, most notably tea from China. The Chinese government only accepted silver in exchange for tea, and the East India Trading Company began smuggling opium as a more profitable exchange, leading to the Opium Wars which resulted in such events as the sacking of the Summer Palace. Meanwhile in India the company acted as ruler, protecting its interests through militant governance and creating laws and levying taxes to the local population. These taxes led to extreme poverty and famine. It was only after more than a century of mistreatment and neglect from a company acting as a government that rebellion sparked in 1857 and finally ended the company control of India, though it was merely passed to the British government instead.
Here, like at many National Trust sites, there is an evermore persistent emphasis on the role of the empire in the castle's history. Such work is ongoing and its presence on site is for the moment minimal, consisting of a small blurb explaining that research is happening that reads as a kind of warning for visitors to engage critically if possible. Without further work, such text seems to exist mostly to let the Trust off the hook if visitors see anything they might consider problematic. If you were to pay for a guidebook, this would not provide further context either. You have to ask who such blurbs are for when there is nothing more concrete to support them. I personally found no mention of the East India Trading Company and what exactly it was that helped pay for Chirk’s upkeep for those centuries of power it held.
Likewise, do not go to Chirk if you are interested in learning the history of the marcher castles because you will not find it here. Though Chirk has a long and varied history, and it is certainly unique to see a castle with a neo-classic interior, more could have been made of the castle’s defensive origins and its unique position as a near-mint condition relic of our medieval past. The tensions between Wales and England at this time affect the way we live today, and it might have been nice to understand this more by learning more of the marcher lords and the Welshmen that rebelled against them.
On a more practical level too, it is worth noting that If you didn't want to eat food from Chirk (and I wouldn’t blame you) there’s a high possibility you will miss out on seeing extra information in the kitchen turned cafe, this needs to be signposted.
So there we have it. And I promise this is all not just because I hated lunch.