The Reluctant Squire – Bookylicious

Peter Read brings an Erddig squire to life through the remarkable power of the pen

When Philip Yorke moved into Erddig in 1966 on the death of his brother Simon, he was welcomed by a crumbling building and inundated with letters and reports. There were people who wanted to help him restore the house and grounds, and others who saw him as an obstruction to their fantasies of managing a mansion from the Queen Anne period. At such times he would scoop up all the papers and reports and stuff them into an empty cupboard. The aim was to return to them in the future, but often he would just leave them there. Convinced that he was providing work for archivists of the future, whose job it would be to pore over the documents, he was pleased to be creating employment for people once he had died.

In April 2017 I became one of those people he’d imagined. I spent many hours in the Hawarden Archives Office ploughing through a plethora of scribbled notes, official letters and detailed reports. Commissioned by the National Trust to write a play marking the 40th anniversary of Philip handing over the property to them, I was determined to bring this fascinating character to life.

Books about stately homes can often dig down deep into chronology, building styles and artefacts, and miss the incredible stories associated with the characters who lived there. From my studies, I felt that had been the case with Philip Yorke, the last Squire of Erddig. Nearly 15 years ago, a small book was written solely about Philip. Written by Geoffrey Veysey and published by Bridge Books, it is now sadly out of print.

As a playwright I have luxuries which historians and book writers don’t. There is no need for the play to slavishly follow the chronological map. My interest is much more in the emotional and personal battles the character fights. As I was asked to write a 90-minute piece of drama, it was important to select key moments which would illustrate his personality.

As well as experiences, I realised there were many objects which could be used as the focus for significant stages of his life. Whereas a novelist will often choose emotional moments to develop the plot, for the playwright visual images can be a powerful tool. In No Place Like Home, the title on which I finally settled, several objects play a significant part in the unfolding story. In this short article I will mention three: evaporated milk cans, metal buckets and Snakes and Ladders.

The evaporated milk can shows the ‘Heath Robinson’ response of a man who had unexpectedly inherited a mansion. Aware that security at Erddig was almost non-existent, Philip rigged up an alarm system which centred around empty evaporated milk cans. He had hundreds of the things, tied to a long length of strong rope, one end of which was attached to the front door and the other to the bed in which he slept. He was ready for any intruder. A milk can commotion would herald the arrival of a burglar and result in Philip leaping into action. With a cosh on the mantelpiece and a rifle under his bed, he faced two options. He could either hit them on the head with the cosh, or shoot them with the rifle. The cosh choice was preferable as it resulted in a lesser prison sentence. The empty milk can makes many appearances in the play and serves as a marker for a sensitive, artistic man, faced with the colossal and near insurmountable task of repairing a crumbling hall on his own.

The bucket is a symbol of his battles with the Coal Board. Built above Bersham Colliery’s Quaker seam, we learn they are planning to burrow under his house once again, this time in search of first class coke. They plan to open the Queen’s seam, which causes Philip to exclaim, ‘One way and another I have faced all kinds of problems caused by Quakers and Queens.’ On moving in to Erddig he found 15 holes in the roof, all caused by coal excavations. Philip tells us that sometimes, at night, with 15 buckets placed strategically around the house and the rain dripping into them, it is like listening ‘to one of those dreadful modern symphonies you sometimes hear on Radio Three. You know the sort? Bleep, blop, blip, blip, blop, blop, blop. Or should I say slop, slop, slop?’ When he receives the report from Wardell and Company, acting for the National Trust, against the Coal Board, he is informed that in some places the house is tilting between three and five feet. ‘Good heavens,’ he says, ‘any more tilting and the house could end up in the next village. It’s little wonder we struggle to walk along the corridor. Much more listing and it might be easier to slide along.’

To capture Philip’s progress being challenged by negative events, I introduced the idea of his Erddig experience being a giant game of Snakes and Ladders. ‘Just when I think I’m climbing to the top, something happens to make me slide back down to the beginning again.’ The Snakes and Ladders motif captures the sense of uncertainty in so many of his dealings. Would the Coal Board compensate him? The National Trust takes over the house and grounds and runs them for him. The Wales Historical Buildings Trust gives him a grant to restore the furniture.

With other objects and images I have sought to pay homage to the Reluctant Squire. With two uncles farming on his land, as a boy I enjoyed chance meetings with this larger-than-life person. Through the power of the pen I wanted to blow away history’s musty categorisations. Let Philip Yorke, who had acted in repertory theatre in Northampton and managed his own touring company, take centre stage. Allow him to speak. Encourage him to hold the audience.

No Place Like Home will be staged at the Rose Garden in Erddig on Saturday 29 July at 6.30pm.