Well, actually about a week ago, for this folly which is not
part of the Rame group but lies further north in Mount Ararat Woods just along
from Pentillie Castle. I read about it in a short but very enticing reference
in Headley & Meulenkamp: they call it ‘excellently decayed and really
creepy’ and describe the ‘delicious thrill of terror’ it provided. Looking at
the map and observing a trackway to the site, but no public footpath as such, I
wasn’t sure whether it was possible to reach, but decided to investigate
anyway. I wedged the car as hard into a bank as I could to keep it off the tiny
road that leads to the woods, and strode off in wellies through a gate. The
gate bore a little tin sign that disconcertingly read ‘PRIVATE NO ACCESS’, but
as the gate was wedged open you couldn’t read this until you investigated, so
gingerly I carried on. The gingeriness was only worsened by pheasants exploding
out of hedges every few seconds, and eventually I came across an entire
enclosure full of pheasants, so decided to turn back. There was a lower path,
however, and I took that instead. After a couple of hundred yards this second
path turned southwards and the Mount Ararat Mausoleum came into view.
And what a reward: what appeared to be a small castle,
embattled and set against the darkness of the trees, appeared, along with a
pair of information boards which rather assumed that random members of the
public would indeed be stumbling along at some point to find the thing. These
described the controversial career of Sir James Tillie, the madman responsible
for the fabric you now see, who caused it to be built as a resting place for
his mortal remains; but, the story goes, his intention was not to be buried,
but to be seated permanently in a specially-made chair to await the
Resurrection, dressed and furnished with pen, paper, and with food delivered at
regular intervals by the servants. What became of his body when the Parousia
failed to occur in short order was not actually recorded, but now there is an
exceptionally grim and ill-tempered statue gazing forever from the stone
courtyard, rather unreasonably as the view of the Plymouth Sound he enjoys is
actually quite pleasant.
The gloomth and decay described by Headley & Meulenkamp
has given way to a firm restoration carried out a couple of years ago, so the
monument now looks quite spruce. Is this really what a folly-hunter wants, one may
wonder; but during the refurbishment the flagstones of the floor were uplifted
and human remains found beneath. So Sir James still seems to rest where he
intended, if not in the same mad manner as he planned.
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