Every once in a while I like to take a step back from modern ruins, escaping the ever-luring grasp of asbestos-lined buildings and CCTV systems, whilst on the plus side almost entirely ruling out the possibility of bumping into urbex kids hunting for followers. This is a whole different ball game, and one that is essentially a disappearing pastime. These buildings were often over-engineered and crafted to such a standard that even without any maintenance they still stand decades after the absence of human interaction. Listed status might protect them from being erased, but modern buildings simply won’t last this long into the future by comparison. The fact that we can still walk the same footsteps as our recent ancestors, albeit with the sun in our eyes rather than a roof over our heads, is something that in my mind at least, we take for granted. So this time I’ve chosen a place that despite being relatively local to me, is barely ever spoken of. This is mostly thanks in part to being replaced in its entirety some 250 years ago by the family who once called it home.
The Tabley Coat Of Arms. (Just a slight warning, there's 700 years of history to cover here, but I'll paraphrase to the relevant bits. If you're still reading, well done)
The Leicesters of Tabley started their journey as baronets in the 13th century when Sir Nicholas de Leycester, styled Knight and constable of Cheshire, married into the Dutton family who were already collecting estates across the region seemingly for fun. Tabley included. Their wealth and his authoritative prowess eventually paved the way for more than seven centuries of well educated, wealthy and politically-charged heirs who also liked to dabble in Britain's military affairs. Toffs, basically. The next in line, their son John, was the one to begin building a hall on the estate which saw its first inception as a brand spanking new timber-framed manor in 1380. So that's where it all began. There's a good chunk of time that involved the family breeding like power-hungry rabbits for the next three hundred years, and the Leicesters settle in for the long haul. Things don't start to change until they inevitably get too big for their boots.
Most extensive alterations were made in the mid-1500s which resulted in its most recent and recognisable design. Surrounded by a moat, a chapel and acres of land, the estate was a proud and modern landmark of the expanding Victorian Cheshire landscape.
The moat that once surrounded the hall has changed shape following decades of disuse. Only in recent years have anglers been permitted to use the land having realised that wildlife was abundant beneath the surface. Walking these fields, you would find few clues as to what lies behind the trees.
As we approach the site, the first thing we're greeted with is the ruin of what must have been an old chapel. We know by now that the church adjacent to the hall itself was demolished in the last century, and there are few records that suggest another chapel being present, but there's no doubting that this ruin had some religious purpose due to the crosses on the turrets on either side. It's clear that these buildings have perhaps been left for more than 100 years.
I've even taken the liberty of hunting down some pre-photographic selfies for your viewing pleasure. The Leicesters sure were a proud bunch and this carried on through the generations right to the end. Let's start with one of the earliest and most extravagant examples. John Leicester, 1st baron of Tabley 1782. He clearly liked to don his military gear despite clearly being nowhere near a battlefield.
The north side of the moat is barely a moat for the majority of the year, but the waterlogged land means that access would be tricky for the landowners. Hence the handy little footbridge that allows for the occasional wanderer to walk ahead.
Soon you begin to realise that there's clearly something here worth shouting about. In this hobby, signs like this are less of a deterrent and more of a guiding light.
Eventually we reach the crumbling walls of the hall itself. In a sorry state, it's clear that no restoration work has been done, but someone has made some kind of effort to close it away from the public. I'm not entirely sure what those efforts are supposed to achieve given how far gone these ruins have become, but in most cases you'll find it's due to wanting to avoid injury claims made by the council on behalf of trespassers.
Then & Now 1860-2017. At the front of the building we can see the approximate spot where this early photograph was taken of Lord Tabley as he poses outside his family Manor with his two sisters, who I imagine due to the immense sexual discrimination at the time didn't have much else to do on this day other than prepare for their photo to be taken. It's impossible to get the exact viewpoint due to the overgrowth surrounding the ruins, but you can just about make out the identical features.
The wooden supports you see here were likely installed as a result of the buildings listed status in the early 1980's, with landowners put under pressure to prevent historical buildings from deteriorating. These simple installations appear to have worked relatively well so far as I'm not sure these walls would have stood upright without them.
