This weekend, I went to Ludlow Castle. Ludlow is a charming English town on the England/Wales border. It's been around for a long time - the castle has been there since the Normans ruled Britain, and the town really boomed in the Medieval era.
Although this may seem fairly insignificant due to the plethora of English market towns (seeing as this was the only way people were able to trade food in the past), Ludlow Castle has been a desirable destination for me since the age of about 4. It was the site of Mary Tudor's first independent court, along with just being a general stronghold in England's history. Unlike many similar fortifications from the Norman era, Ludlow Castle has been fairly absent as a war defense, with its primary use being as a residential property.
Of course, it is now ruined after hundreds of years of use. Ruins are beautiful in their own way; they allow the observer to create their own impression of what the castle was like to live in. There are no modern decorations pretending to be from the 1400s, no beds, no clear definition of where the rooms started and ended. One is unable to tell exactly how many floors there were, or exactly how the rabbit warren of the castle connected up. In some ways, ruins make me hope that a time machine is never invented (not that it ever will), as creating your own impression is part of the magical experience of discovering the past.
At the same time, I would love to go back in time to meet famous figures. We only have images (not even photographs, simply impressions of artists) as accounts of Kings and Queens of the past. I would love to discover the true motivations behind the seeming need to execute other humans when they spoke against you, and how one could be so brutal to someone they supposedly loved (albeit for only a short while).
Who knows if these thoughts will ever be considered in a serious manner - the ethics of time travel are incredibly absorbing.
Peace x
No comments:
Post a Comment