Not content apparently with making me his first game, Richard is talking to me at Ordsall Hall – Manchester’s very own haunted Tudor mansion. Strictly speaking, when I say ‘Tudor’ I rather mean its exterior. The Hall itself dates back to as early as the 12th c., and its first long-term owners, the Radclyffe family, had occupied the building and the land approx. between 1335 and 1662. The best-known owners of the Hall of that time include Sir John Radclyffe, the hero of the Hundred Years’ War, whose motto – ‘Caen, Crecy, Calais’ – denoted his taking part in several pivotal battles at the beginning of war, which the English had won. Sir Alexander Radclyffe was the High Sheriff of Lancashire on four occasions. Margaret Radclyffe (d. 1599) was Queen Elizabeth’s favourite Maid of Honour.
The Hall, however, is better known for two other things. In 1861 it was commemorated by the novelist William Harrison Ainsworth. The novel called Guy Fawkes, or The Gunpowder Treason used Ordsall Hall as the set, where political intrigue and romance entwined. In particular, it introduced the character of Viviana Radclyffe, daughter of Sir William Radclyffe. According to the plot, John Catesby and Guy Fawkes came to Ordsall Hall to hide from King James’s pursuivants. There, while Fawkes was detailing out his plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, John Catesby was wooing Viviana. To perfect the novel and to complete the legend, Ainsworth conjured the love triangle. He made the renowned Protestant scholar Humphrey Cheetham (whose statue you can see in the Manchester Cathedral) Viviana’s secret admirer. However, she was a Catholic, thus they could not marry. When the Hall was raided by the pursuivants, Cheetham had rescued Viviana, Catesby and Fawkes via an underpassage. He spent the rest of his life in solitude, ‘tinged by the blighting of his early affection’.
Secondly, the Hall is haunted. It is not exactly clear whose ghosts meet you at Ordsall, and what time these ghosts used to live when they were connected to their bodies. But the ghostcam has been working at the Hall for years, and, reportedly, the best time to try and see a ghost was on Saturday night. I must admit, I never tried to *catch* one. However, the photo below shows quite clearly that the Great Hall is indeed being well looked after (see a blueish shadow between the fireplace and a little table?)
[Courtesy of Ordsall Hall).
I shall try and take some pictures on Thursday when I go to Ordsall Hall. This will not be my first ever visit there. The first time I’ve been to the Hall was in July 2002, and, believe it or not, Ordsall Hall was my first ever Tudor mansion. Prior to that, I’ve only seen Tudor buildings in the books and on the photos on the web. My impression is that I was somewhat disturbed to go from a huge spacious Great Hall into a dim claustrophobic bedroom, whose ceiling was painted in dark-blue colour and decorated with gilded stars. The feeling of the sky coming down on you was almost palpable. As if that was not enough, the room was called ‘the Star Chamber’, because of the ceiling. Every Tudor historian would instantly remember that this was also the name of the Royal court that had existed between 1487 and 1641. Its meetings were held in secret, with no indictments, no right of appeal, no juries, and no witnesses.
I chose to specialise in Tudor history because I loved England, the English language and culture, and because I adored Medieval and Early Modern History, but wanted to be closer to the modern times, thus I opted to research into the 16th c. It was an absolutely amazing period of time, as far as I’m concerned. The geographical and scientific discoveries, Renaissance and Baroque, the beginnings of cartography and research into the Solar system, on the one hand, – and Reformation, the Wars of Religion, the Inquisition, and slavery, on the other. The co-existence of the opposites has made the 16th c. irresistibly attractive. I don’t think I would want to study any other time, had I been given the choice once again.
As I wrote before, I initially wanted to upload two photographs of the ghost. But when I was uploading the photo below, it only opened halfway, so the blueish figure in the dress with the train wasn’t seen. Now you can see it well, which either means that the ghost decided to show herself to my readers, or that some forces from the bigger world have intervened.
Whatever is the reason for such metamorphosis, it still proves, in the words of Krzysztof Kieslowski, the Polish cinema genius, that ‘something exists beyond this saucer’. Indeed, it does.