It is not everyday that someone builds a seven-storey brick tower on the edge of one of the busiest and most rapidly-growing towns in Britain, especially in the middle of the eighteenth century, so one would assume that the construction of this folly would have been noticed. Birmingham was home to one of the earliest provincial newspapers – surely the curious structure made the pages? But no, the early history of the tower seems very hard to find. The building was originally referred to as the observatory, or as Perrott’s Monument, but soon became ‘vulgarly’ known as Perrott’s Folly because it was born of an ‘insane vanity’.

John Perrott (c.1704-1776) owned the Bell Hall estate at Belbroughton in Worcestershire, and also had a house in Edgbaston, then a village near Birmingham. Near his Edgbaston home, in rural Rotton Park, he built his tower.

The first history of Birmingham was written by William Hutton and published in 1781. Hutton mentions the ‘observatory’ in passing, but makes no mention of its builder or history. William Pye made an ‘excursion round the town in the summer of 1818’ and saw the ‘observatory’. He recorded that the ‘lofty’ tower was known as the Monument and had been erected by John Perrot [sic] in ‘around 1758’: all later accounts of the tower seem to be based on this account. It was certainly extant by February 1773 when a classified advertisement in Aris’s Birmingham Gazette notes a property near ‘Mr Perrott’s Observatory’. No records have yet been found to identify the architect and craftsmen who created the tower.

It might, however, have been under constriction in 1761, when poet and landscaper William Shenstone wrote to Perrott’s neighbour Matthew Boulton suggesting that Perrott was so busy with his workmen that he was hard to see socially. Shenstone hoped that by inviting Perrott to dine on a Sunday, he could not claim to be otherwise engaged. Although this may of course have been work on Perrott’s Belbroughton estate – but a rare mention of the man is worth noting.

Although we now think of an observatory as a building from which to regard the night skies, in this period it was synonymous with belvedere, literally somewhere from which to observe the view. The upper room is beautifully decorated with ornate plasterwork, suggesting a space where one enjoyed refined refreshments whilst admiring the surrounding countryside.

It seems likely that the tower was also used to view the chase, for the surrounding countryside was used by the hunt. More fanciful are the tales that Perrott built it to give his wife a view of her childhood home in Belbroughton in Worcestershire. Or, that it was erected so Perrott could see his wife’s grave, or the home of the daughter who had married against his wishes, both also in Belbroughton. Great as these stories are, they are pure local legend: as a plaque in Holy Trinity church in Belbroughton makes clear, Perrott’s wife outlived him for many years. But more importantly, the Clent Hills block any view of Belbroughton. His son-in-law was the beneficiary of his will, so it seems unlikely that Perrott disapproved of him. But a catalogue of tall tales is particularly appropriate for this towering folly.

In the middle of the nineteenth century the ‘lofty picturesque building known as The Monument’ was offered for sale. By that date it stood in the grounds of Monument House, a ‘commodious and gentlemanly residence’, but no further information about the tower was given in the sales particulars.

In 1907 the Birmingham Mail pondered the reasons for the erection of the tower and concluded that it was for ‘convivial gatherings’. By that date the views the folly had once enjoyed had been compromised by the growth of Birmingham, now a large city. The paper commented on the contrast between the ‘crisp clear country air on one side and the thick smoky acid-laden cloud which hangs like a pall over the city on the other side’. The paper also questioned the mental stability of folly builders, concluding that the tower was ‘erected to gratify an ill-balanced mind’.

The smog was clearly not an issue for meteorological types and from the late nineteenth century until 1979 the tower was used as an observatory to record weather conditions. Emergency repairs to save the tower from collapse were carried out by Birmingham Conservation Trust, with work completed in 2005.

The tower has since had a number of uses, including as an art gallery and a party venue. Today it is home to Re.Future Collective, an arts and architecture collective formed in 2012 to ‘deliver arts, health and heritage activities to connect communities and to help address disadvantage’. Current projects include an Art Youth Club, workshops for adults experiencing loneliness or isolation and working with asylum seekers to create a mosaic for Perrott’s Folly. The collective is also actively researching the history of the tower, and paint samples are currently being analysed to see what they reveal – these are vibrant and exciting times for the folly.

It is not possible to discuss the tower (grade II*) without mentioning J.R.R. Tolkien. The author grew up in Birmingham, and fans of the Lord of the Rings trilogy believe that the folly, and the tower of the nearby waterworks, inspired The Two Towers, the second volume in the series.

Perrott’s Folly and the waterworks tower are easy to find – head to the helpfully named Waterworks Road, just off  Monument Road.

Thank you for reading. If you have any thoughts or further information you would like to share, please scroll down to find the comments box.

The tower on Leith Hill was erected in the 1760s by Richard Hull. The hillside wasn’t actually his property, but his home was nearby and he leased the plot from the landowners, the Evelyn family of nearby Wotton. It became a popular attraction and in 1790 it was said that the view from the tower was ‘esteemed equal, if not superior, to any in the kingdom’. Hull was so fond of his tower that he designated it as his mausoleum.

From the very start Hull, who lived at Leith Hill Place, intended the tower to be a public amenity to be enjoyed by ramblers and day-trippers. A plaque was placed above the entrance and, in summary, the Latin inscription recorded that the tower was built for the prospect, which Hull wished to be enjoyed by all.

Hull died in 1772 leaving an extraordinarily detailed will in which he gave some ‘further direction’ for his executors, setting out how he wished to be laid to rest. He desired to be buried in a very private ceremony, with only his servants present, ‘in a Grave made for me under my Tower on Leith Hill’. A plaque recorded his death as having taken place on 18 January 1772 and stated that he had purchased ‘Leith-hill Place’ for his retirement where he lived as a ‘true Christian and rural Philosopher’.

Soon after Hull’s death the tower was allowed to decay and, ‘accelerated by the hands of the mischievious’, the interior was stripped leaving the tower a shell. In 1788 the antiquarian and traveller William Bray told an audience how sorry he was to find that the tower was ‘already become a ruin’. Although the plaque on the tower gives a date of 1766, it has clearly been recut at some point (the stone has eroded but it appears to give the date of construction in a bizarre combination of Roman and Arabic numerals as MDCC66), and Bray gives the more likely date of 1763, which is corroborated by title deeds which mention the tower in 1765.

In the last years of the eighteenth century William Perrin of Tanhurst, who then owned Leith Hill Place, had the exterior of the tower ‘thoroughly repaired’. To stop further vandalism the lower room was filled with ‘lime and rubbish’, and the entrance walled up. He also raised the height of the tower to make it ‘still more conspicuous as a sea-mark’.

In 1864 William John Evelyn of Wotton added a staircase turret to the tower so that the views from the top could once more be enjoyed by what Barbara Jones called ‘county counters’. She didn’t specify just which shires are allegedly visible from the rooftop, but in 1899 it was suggested that ‘visitors with a glass’ could see twelve counties and a circuit of 200 miles.

In the later years of the ninetenth century tourists could also enjoy teas and ginger beer provided Mrs Skilton, the custodian of the tower. After 30 years in that post, aged 72, her sight was apparently so good that she could see the dome of St Paul’s, ships in the English Channel and Windsor Castle without a telescope. She also claimed that forty churches were visible from the top of the tower. There are countless picture postcards of the tower showing the many visitors who climbed the hill, but sadly no photographs have been found showing the kangaroos that Evelyn ‘set loose’ on Leith Hill, although they apparently ‘flourished for years till gradually exterminated by ruthless individuals’.

The tower also inspired the artist Samuel Palmer (1805-1881), who could see it from his studio. He used it as a model in a number of works, including this watercolour of the ‘high lonely tower’ in Milton’s Il Penseroso

In 1922 the tower was offered for sale, and there were fears that public access would be lost. In March 1923 it was announced that ‘all lovers of rural Surrey’ would rejoice to learn that the tower, and five acres of land around it, were to be given to the National Trust, thanks to the generosity of Reigate businessman W. J. MacAndrew. The tower was restored in 1984 when workmen uncovered Hull’s tomb during the works.

Follies have appeared on stamps, stamp-books and coins, but this is the first example the Flâneuse has found of a folly on a sugar cube wrapper. At date unknown Tate+Lyle featured Leith Hill Tower on a wrapper which celebrated Surrey as the home of the Magna Carta. How many people idly stirred two lumps into their coffee without even noticing the handsome folly on the wrapper?

The tower can be climbed on certain days in the summer season, taking visitors to the highest point in the county, and there is always access to the hillside to appreciate the exterior. As early postcards show, it was a stiff climb up to the tower, but today a car park on the slope of the hill allows a gentler ascent. The wider site remains part of the Evelyn’s Wotton Estate, and public access is managed by Surrey County Council. A cafe operates from a hatch at the foot of the tower serving light refreshments (alas, no sugar cubes with a view of the tower). Leith Hill Place is also in the care of the National Trust and can be visited in the summer season. There’s more access information here.

Thank you for reading. As ever your thoughts are very welcome, as are any further examples of follies on sugar cube wrappers. Scroll down to find the comments box at the foot of the page.

In 1826 Charles Heathcote Tatham exhibited a view of a ‘tower now erecting’ at the Royal Academy. The tower was a belvedere, eye-catcher and summerhouse on the Rookesbury estate, near Wickham, where a substantial new house, also designed by Tatham, was under construction.

Rookesbury (often Rooksbury) was the seat of Reverend William Garnier (1771-1835) and his wife Lady Harriett, née North (1771-1847). As well as replacing the existing house with one on higher ground, the couple remodelled the pleasure grounds. A series of views of Hampshire mansions, published in 1825, describes the new landscaping and notes that the ‘elevated Tower’ was under construction. Presumably it was nearing completion, as the author could admire the views to Portsmouth Harbour, the Isle of Wight and the Channel.

From the house a stroll though the flower gardens led to a ‘romantically wooded glen’ from where a winding path meandered to the ‘considerable open eminence’ on which the tower stood. The building was called ‘Summer House’ on the 1839 tithe map, and noted in 1833 as the ‘Observatory’, but later in the century it became known simply as ‘the Tower’. It stood on high ground east of the house.

The views from the top of the tower could still be appreciated in the 1930s, but by 1972 the ‘curious tower’ was in an ‘advanced state of decay’. Barbara Jones saw the building as she was researching the revised edition of Follies & Grottoes in the 1970s (the photograph at the top of the page is from her collection). She admired the ‘impressive tower’ but felt its prospects of survival were ‘nil’. As she put the finishing touches to her text a friend wrote with news of the tower’s demise, and she concluded her account of the ‘spectacular’ folly with the depressing phrase ‘Demolished May 1973’.

What makes this particularly sad is that the Rookesbury estate has had the misfortune to lose two fine towers. The view from an earlier tower was admired by the theatrical impresario Tate Wilkinson in 1759 when he visted the Garnier family at Rookesbury. He found David Garrick there and the actor, being younger than his host, gave Wilkinson a tour of the house and gardens, skipping around like a ‘lad of twenty’.

Wilkinson wrote that Garnier had built the tower for ‘study, curiosity, and prospect’ and, as he compares the prospect favourably to one he had seen nearby, we know the view took in the Isle of Wight, the ‘ocean’ and shipping. This tower is shown on an estate map of 1756 and on Taylor’s County map of 1759 as ‘Temple’ (above) and it too stood east of the house. The Flâneuse has been unable to conclude if the belvederes stood on the same site, and sadly no trace remains of either tower.

Rookesbury was a school for many years but is now a wedding and events venue. There’s more information here.

Thank you for reading. As always, further information and general thoughts are very welcome – you can get in touch via the comments box at the foot of the page. A reminder that your contact details remain confidential, only your name will appear.

In 1941 Batsford published a new title by Edmund Vale called Curiosities of Town and Countryside. With a striking cover by Brian Cook, featuring the triumphal arch at Shugborough Hall, Staffordshire, the jacket blurb promised the reader ‘freaks, eccentricities and follies.’

The Flâneuse recently ordered a copy online and whilst waiting for the postman to arrive began to do some background research. She was baffled to find the reviewer in the Hampstead News writing that amongst the buildings featured in the volume were ‘monstrosities like Lansdown Tower, Bath, and the Sugarloaf Folly, Sussex’. William Beckford and ‘Mad’ Jack Fuller may have built structures that weren’t to everyone’s taste, but ‘monstrosities’ seemed a little harsh.

And then the book was delivered, and all became clear. As he states in the book’s preface, Mr Vale (1888-1969) excludes follies from his study of curiosities for the simple reason that he has ‘always cherished a profound and contemptuous dislike for these monstrosities’. His publisher, Harry Batsford, is adamant that follies should be included in the book, but Vale is resolute that he won’t write about them, and continues that follies are ‘interlopers’ as they are ‘decidely eccentric and not accidentally so’.

‘However I must not rant’ Vale writes (rather too late in the Flâneuse’s opinion) and he introduces Mr Charles Bradley Ford who has come to the rescue by writing a final chapter on follies, and thus allowing Vale to maintain his moral high ground. However this is all a little tongue-in-cheek, for ‘Charles Bradley Ford’ was the pen-name of Harry Batsford and his colleague Christopher Fry: when the company was hit by the financial crisis of the early 1930s, it was cheaper to write the books themselves using a pseudonym.

The publishers also had the last word on illustrations, so many ‘monstrosities’ can be found pictured in the book, including those featured here, although to add to the confusion some of the photographs are of structures that are not even mentioned in the text. And of course the dust jacket features a famous landscape ornament.

‘Ford’ begins his chapter with the obligatory note on the difficulty of defining a folly. He continues that the subject of follies is an ‘amusing and engaging byway’, but with a nod to Vale he continues that to some they are ‘detestable and deplorable excrescences’. Ford believes that follies ‘add to the gaiety of the countryside’, although he draws the line at obelisks which are ‘dull and commonplace in spite of the efforts of lightening to reduce their number’.

The Illustrated London News called the book ‘delectable’ and it is certainly a handsome volume. The argument for and against follies it contains is decidedly odd, but most entertaining: an excellent addition to any folly fan’s library.

The Flâneuse first spotted the striking dust jacket in a new Batsford publication – The Book Cover by Paul Dimond. The book explores 150 years of the vibrant covers designed for Batsford publications.

All of the follies pictured here are extant, and all can be visited or seen from a public road.

Thank you for reading. There will be more monstrosities next week. Scroll down to the comments box if you would like to share any thoughts.

In 1848 a brief note in local newspapers announced that a ‘lofty tower’ had been erected on Farleigh Down. Commanding the ‘most extensive and magnificent prospects’, the tower was built by Wade Browne, who had recently settled at Monkton Farleigh. The tower stands in Wiltshire – although very close to the border with Somerset.

Wade Browne (1796-1851) was living at Monkton Farleigh by 1837 when his wife, Anne, died leaving him with a young family. Browne’s memorial in the village church notes his ‘active benevolence and conscientious discharge of Christian duty’ and he is remembered for improving the village roads and water supply, and for endowing a new school. It has been suggested that building the tower might have been another philanthropic gesture to provide local employment.

The tower was completed in 1848, adding ‘a decidedly picturesque feature to the scenery of the vicinity’. Inside, a narrow stone staircase climbed up to a single room at the top from which the view could be appreciated.

When first erected the tower stood on a bare hill, and could be seen from many miles around. Today the slope is heavily wooded, and only the top of the tower can be seen from below.

Browne was well-known in the area as he was active in local affairs and served as High Sheriff of Wiltshire in 1845. His prospect tower quickly became known as Browne’s Folly, and is named as such on the Ordnance Survey map published in 1889. Over the next few decades many a tall tale was told of why the tower was erected in the first place, and in the 1930s the local newspapers were filled with anecdotes about the tower. One legend had it that Browne built it so that he could keep an eye on his flirtatious wife when she was out hunting. Another told that Browne built it to hide from the ‘fairer sex, who, he imagined, were after him for his money’. As the journalist concluded, this ‘is the best story of all, and is by far the least likely to be true’.

Luckily, we have the word of Browne’s second wife, Selina, to settle the matter: she didn’t sneak off to meet a lover when hunting, and he was not escaping from the local ladies. Browne built it as a belvedere, but as Selina wrote it didn’t quite go to plan: he ‘expected to see the Bristol Channel from the room above, but I fancy hills intervening prevented it’. Perhaps the Channel was missing from the panorama, but those who climbed the tower could see the Mendips, the Wiltshire downs, the Cotswolds and into Wales. There was also a view to an earlier eye-catcher – King Alfred’s Tower at Stourhead.

An article in the journal of the Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Society in 1855 notes that a sculptured slab, excavated from the remains of the Cluniac priory at Monkton Farleigh in 1841, was displayed in ‘Mr Wade Browne’s Tower’. This suggests that Browne perhaps used the base of the tower as a museum of antiquities. Sadly it’s a fleeting reference, and no further records of how the tower was furnished or decorated seem to survive.

Browne died in 1851 and later that century the estate was purchased by Sir Charles Hobhouse. In 1907 he restored the tower and erected a new plaque commemorating both his work, and that of Browne as the original builder (now eroded). Hobhouse is said to have used the tower for shooting lunches, but as the cynical journalist quoted earlier wrote, it must have been ‘rather trying for a tired shooting party to have to climb to such dizzy heights for a bite of refreshment’.

Monkton Farleigh remains the seat of the Hobhouse family, but the tower and surrounding land was sold to the Avon Wildlife Trust in 1972. With vandalism a huge problem, the trust approached the Folly Fellowship, the charity which aims to protect, preserve and promote follies, grottoes and garden buildings, asking if they might be able to help. In 1998 the Trustees  of the Folly Fellowship agreed to take ownership of the folly, and an appeal was launched to raise funds to repair the roof and fit a secure door, with work completed the following summer.

Patrick Todd, a trustee of the Folly Fellowship, has sent this update: The tower has recently been the subject of trespass, vandalism and damage which is a continuing problem. Signs have been put up to warn entry is not permitted and could be dangerous. Efforts are also being made to keep the tower secure, but these are likely to be temporary due to the determined efforts of the vandals. We are in touch with locals who have very kindly cleaned up graffiti, but a long term solution needs to be found which would probably involve the community, local groups, and conservation bodies. We are currently considering various options for the building, and would like to make it safe and accessible, preserving this much loved and visible monument for the future. If you would like to help in any way, please contact Patrick Todd at welbat66@gmail.com

The tower is almost impossible to photograph today (by an amateur with an iPhone) as it is surrounded by trees, so apologies for the wonky title image, and thanks to everyone who has helped with historic views.

Thank you for reading. The Flâneuse is always happy to hear from readers, please scroll down to the comments box to share any thoughts. 

]]> https://thefollyflaneuse.com/brownes-folly-monkton-farleigh-wiltshire/feed/ 5 14894 https://thefollyflaneuse.com/appley-tower-ryde-isle-of-wight/ https://thefollyflaneuse.com/appley-tower-ryde-isle-of-wight/#comments Fri, 21 Feb 2025 11:22:54 +0000 https://thefollyflaneuse.com/?p=14123 Close to the little town of Ryde on the north coast of the Isle of Wight stood Appley Towers, a...]]>

Close to the little town of Ryde on the north coast of the Isle of Wight stood Appley Towers, a fine seaside villa with views across the Solent to the mainland of Britain. In the later decades of the nineteenth century its new owner added a belvedere on the shore, which he called the Watch Tower.

In 1872 the Appley Towers (sometimes Apley Towers) estate was up for sale, and there was much gossip about who might purchase it. The Hampshire Advertiser suggested in June of that year that the Marquess of Bute had snapped up the estate for £47,000, but in July papers across the country reported that a ‘well-known member of Parliament’ had purchased the ‘magnificent estate’ for £59,950. This was Sir William Hutt (1801-1882), MP for Gateshead since 1841, and knighted in 1865 after serving as Paymaster General and Vice-President of the Board of Trade.

Immediately after purchasing the estate Sir William began to remodel the house and fill the gardens and glasshouses with the finest botanical specimens (soon to be described in all of the smart gardening journals of the period). He built a private pier where his visitors could arrive by yacht, and he contributed handsomely to the costs of building a ‘massive sea wall’ below his estate with a promenade open to all. By the time of his death in 1882 he was rumoured to have spent £70,000 in ‘beautifying the place’.

In this same period he erected a pretty little ‘Watch Tower’ on the sea wall. Sir William commissioned local men to design and build the tower, which was complete by 1876. Over the door is a plaque carved with Hutt’s family crest of a lapwing and the motto Vouloir est Pouvoir – which can be translated as ‘where there’s a will there’s a way’. Although Sir William called it the Watch Tower, it quickly became known locally as the Appley Tower.

The architect was Thomas Hellyer and the builder was Isaac Barton, both of Ryde. Hellyer and Barton also worked on remodelling the main house, Appley Towers, including adding the lofty clock tower which, with the Watch Tower, made ‘such a conspicuous figure in the landscape as viewed from the sea’.

After Sir William’s death in 1882 there was speculation that the Prince of Wales was going to buy Appley Towers, but this was soon dismissed as ‘a flim-flam of the wildest kind’. The Hutt family continued to own Appley Towers until 1912, when the property with its ‘View Tower’ was sold to Sir Hedworth Williamson 9th Bt, a wealthy industrialist who entertained members of the royal family at Appley Towers on a number of occasions in the 1920s and 1930s.

In 1945 Ryde Borough Council bought the estate with a view to creating a public park, and in the following decade the house was demolished and its site developed for housing. The ‘pudgy little Appley Tower’ (as described by Gwyn Headley in Country Life in 1993) was restored in 2023-2024 in a project led by Natural Enterprise. The tower is now to be open regularly (although reliant on volunteers, and the Flâneuse found it shut, so check before visiting). The area of the former gardens nearest the sea is now a public park.

The tower is listed by Historic England at grade II for its ‘curiosity value’, and so in keeping with such whimsy, and with apologies to Edward Lear…

There was an old gentleman of Ryde,
Whose estate was his joy and his pride.
He thought it quite jolly,
To build a fine folly,
On an esplanade by the seaside.

Sir William Hutt, by the way, has interesting folly connections if you have time for a couple of detours…

In 1831 Hutt married as his first wife Mary, Dowager Countess of Strathmore (died 1860). She had been the mistress of the 10th Earl of Strathmore, and their relationship was legitimised when he married her from his deathbed in 1820, leaving her a considerable fortune and the mansion at Gibside as her home for life. Hutt had been tutor to her son, John Bowes (1811-1885), at Cambridge and thus met Mary. Gibside, with its landscape dotted with follies, was the couple’s home when Hutt was MP for Gateshead. Hutt advised and encouraged his stepson when he and his wife, Josephine, embarked on a project to create a museum in Barnard Castle, Co. Durham – famed today as the Bowes Museum. A new exhibition inspired by Josephine’s collecting has just opened at the Bowes Museum.

In 1842 when Hutt was Member of Parliament for Gateshead, he was part of the committee convened to decide how to commemorate the life of John Lambton, 1st Earl of Durham. It was Hutt who put forward the resolution that suggested a monument of an ‘architectural character’ on Penshaw Hill, near the late earl’s Lambton Castle estate. This eventually took shape as the grand Penshaw Monument, loosely modelled on the Temple of Hephaestus in Athens.

Your thoughts are always welcome. Please scroll down to the comments box to share any observations, and thank you for reading.

In April 1826 a visitor to Bath noted that William Beckford, a ‘wealthy and capricious voluptuary’, had bought land on Lansdown Hill ‘with the design of erecting a magnificent tower with drest grounds about it’. The visitor knew that this had been planned since soon after Beckford’s move to the city in 1822, but he could see no sign of any progress on the project. Had he arrived just a few months later he would have found builders hard at work.

Beckford (1760-1844) had been the subject of gossip and press speculation throughout his adult life. He was initially of interest simply because he was immensely rich from his family’s interests in the Slave Trade. Then, in 1784, came accusations of sexual activity with a 16 year old boy which soon became the talk of the town, and Beckford and his wife fled to the continent. He would later be famed for his exuberant and extravagant building projects.

On his return to England Beckford built the gothic palace called Fonthill Abbey, in Wiltshire, to a design by James Wyatt. The magnificent house was widely known from prints and books, and so there was much interest in December 1825 when the fall of the ‘fine (but flimsy) architectural structure’ was announced in the press. Although Beckford had sold the estate some three years earlier, it would forever be known as his creation, and Wyatt would be blamed for the inadequate foundations.

After selling the Fonthill estate Beckford moved to Bath. In 1823 the newspapers were reporting that Beckford had three or four hundred men enclosing his estate with a wall, and laying out grounds for plantations where upwards of two hundred trees were to be planted. As the finishing touch, Beckford was said to be intending to build a lofty tower. Progress was slow, and in January 1825 the papers were wondering why it had not materialised. In the autumn of 1826, work eventually began to a design by H. E. Goodridge (1797-1864), a Bath-based architect.

There were those who questioned Beckford’s decision to ‘make new efforts to scale the skies’, given his experience at Fonthill, and in October the papers reported that ‘Mr. Beckford, undismayed by the falling of his celebrated tower at Fonthill, has now above a hundred men employed in the erection of a somewhat similar edifice on Landsdown [sic] Bath’. But some lessons had been learned, and work on the tower was paused in November and not recommenced until all risk of a frost was over.

In 1841 the newspapers, interested in every move Beckford made, reported that he was planning to pull the tower down and sell the collection, as he was so fed up of thieves and vandals breaking in. Happily, the tower was given a reprieve, but the contents were dispersed only a few years later following Beckford’s death in 1844. The tower too was sold, but soon afterwards Beckford’s daughter, Susan, Duchess of Hamilton, was horrified to learn that the grounds were being used as a beer garden. She repurchased the tower and presented it to the parish for use as a cemetery and chapel.

The chapel remained in use until the 1960s, when it was deconsecrated and put up for sale. It was bought by Drs Elizabeth and Leslie Hilliard who established a museum of Beckfordiana in the tower and set up the Beckford Tower Trust to secure its future. Major restoration was carried out in 1997-2000, and again in 2022-2024.

William Beckford and his buildings have been the subject of many excellent books and papers, and this brief account is really just an excuse to say that the newly-refurbished tower is well worth a visit. See the fascinating museum, now with many new items of Beckfordiana on show, then limber up and climb the spiral stairs to the belvedere for views over the city and countryside. You can then enjoy wandering in the cemetery to find both Beckford’s and Goodridge’s resting places, and walk down to the newly-revealed grotto tunnel which Beckford built on the carriage drive to his home in the valley below.

There’s lots more on the Beckford’s Tower website and if you’d like to linger a little longer the Landmark Trust has an apartment in the tower to rent.

Comments are always welcome and you can get in touch via the box at the foot of the page. Thank you for reading.

Just outside Little Berkhamsted in Hertfordshire stands a lofty circular brick tower which sits on an octagonal base. It was built towards the end of the eighteenth century by the Stratton family and has, appropriately, a tall tale attached. The eye-catcher was a popular subject with artists, and a number of very pretty views survive.

Barbara Jones described the tower in Follies and Grottoes (1953) as the creation of one Admiral Stratton who wished to see the ships on the Thames: a story which had been told in print since at least 1888 (a variant story has the builder as a wealthy ship owner). As there is no possibility of seeing the Thames from the top of the tower, Jones concluded that this part of the story might be fanciful. In fact little of the tale was true, and there never was an Admiral Stratton.

In 1790 the house called Gays (sometimes The Gaze, but now The Gage) was home to John Stratton (c.1751-1811) who is said to have built the tower in 1789. He was the son of a wealthy merchant and although he was apprenticed to a London attorney in 1787, he later seems to have enjoyed life as a gentleman of independent means. Little is known about Stratton’s life. He was living in ‘Little Berkhamstead’ when he married Charlotte Lucadon in a Church of England ceremony in 1794, but he died in Bromley, Kent, in April 1811 and was buried in the nonconformist cemetery at Bunhill Fields in London.

The tower was built using bricks recycled from an earlier building which stood on the site, and in 1890 it was reported that the building cost was £3,000. Information on the date and cost seems to have been supplied by Col. John Heathfield Stratton (1837-1925), who lived at The Gage at the turn of the nineteenth century and presumably had family papers in his possession. Sadly no designer or architect’s name is ever mentioned.

A drawing in Hertfordshire Archives & Local Studies (above), executed some time before 1805, is annotated with a description of the tower. It tells that it was built ‘for a pleasure house, and has several apartments in the different stages of altitude’. The Strattons and their guests could admire the ‘fine prospects’ from the ‘flat lead roof’ behind the battlements.

Although marked on the 1856 1st series Ordnance Survey map as ‘Observatory’, at some point early in its existence the tower was given the alternative name of ‘The Monument’, and it is marked as such on the 1838 tithe map and on later Ordnance Survey maps. In 1830 there was a steeplechase to ‘the monument in Little Berkhamstead’ and the name was also used on early picture postcards. There is no explanation for the name or what the tower might commemorate.

The tower was maintained until the middle of the nineteenth century. The key was held locally and visitors were permitted to climb the tower (except on Sundays). We know there was a library on the second floor because one George Shepherd was caught stealing books from the tower in 1868. In court he confessed, admitting he planned to sell the books to ‘buy myself some bread, because I was hungry’.

By 1888 the tower was described as dilapidated. The decaying tower stayed in Stratton family ownership until the middle of the last century, and in the 1960s the then owner, architect William Tatton Brown (1910-1977), tried to get planning permission to convert the tower for residential use and save it from further decay. After a battle with Hertford Rural Council he eventually got the go-ahead, but not before one particular aspect of the case had been enjoyed by the press. In 1968 Sir Ian Orr-Ewing, Member of Parliament for Hendon North (Conservative), objected to the application stating that he sometimes sunbathed naked in his garden and did not wish to be overlooked.

A further extension has since been added to the base of the tower (listed grade II*) and it remains a private residence. The top of the tower can be seen from roads and footpaths within the village, which is understandably proud of the grade II* listed folly.

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On the northern edge of Stratford upon Avon is Clopton House, a handsome mansion which once stood in an extensive park. In 1837 Charles Thomas Warde inherited the Clopton estate from his uncle, and his improvements included this attractive castellated prospect tower.

Warde (1813-1865) built the prospect tower as a landmark for the hunt and a belvedere from which to admire the countryside. A painting dated 1838 shows Clopton House as it looked when he inherited, although Warde’s dogs and horses dominate the foreground.

Although we may admire the tower, unfortunately its builder was not so worthy of commendation. Initially a model squire, Warde was appointed High Sheriff of Warwickshire in 1846. But by 1860 he was featured in the press for all the wrong reasons. He was accused of ‘immoral conduct’ and castigated for ‘disgraceful squabbles’ which included assaulting his mistress, Miss Hooper, the mother of several of his children. He was accused of selling her clothes and having her imprisoned (as well as an even less savoury event involving ‘improper intercourse’). His wife had, perhaps unsurprisingly, left him some 12 years earlier.

Warde died in 1865 and his heirs sold the Clopton estate in 1873, with the ‘prospect tower’ noted in the sales particulars. In 1891 Clopton House was the seat of the Hodgson family, and ‘The Tower’ had by then been converted to a dwelling and was home to Charles James, a farm labourer. The estate changed hands again in 1930, when the purchaser was the Beecham family. Utica, first wife of Sir Thomas Beecham, made it her home (the couple lived largely separate lives, and were divorced in 1942). The tower remained a home until the middle of the twentieth century, becoming increasingly dilapidated, until in the 1960s Utica Beecham offered it for sale.

In 1969 the Coventry Evening Telegraph reported that were a ‘homeseeker with unusual tastes’ to walk into the estate agents and ask ‘Do you have a detached tower with a turret and battlements, nice and handy for town?’, the answer would be a resounding ‘Yes’.

The agent boasted of a great deal of interest and in January 1970 it was reported that the purchaser was a young London architect who planned to restore the tower as his home. The price was reported as ‘near £2,500’. Planning permission was granted for an extension to house a bedroom and bathroom, but work did not immediately begin, and in 1972 a local councillor asked for reassurance that the decaying fabric of the main fabric be dealt with ‘very soon’.

By 1974 the architect had concluded that for ‘personal reasons’ he was unable to move to Stratford upon Avon, and the tower was put up for sale at £13,000. Despite the agents again reporting a ‘tremendous amount of interest’, the tower was still on the market in 1975 for £9,500 and in 1976 for £8,750.

Eventually a sale was agreed, and the new owners extended the property. The tower changed hands again in 1984, when it was offered for sale by auction. The house was on the market again recently, when it was noted that the original footprint had ‘increased threefold’. Visiting in late June the Flâneuse found renovations underway.

The tower is listed at grade II. It remains a private house, but can be seen from public roads and footpaths. Clopton House has now been converted into apartments.

The obelisk seen across the fields from the tower was not on the Clopton estate but was a feature of the grounds of the adjacent Welcombe Manor (now a hotel). It was erected in 1876 by Robert Needham Philips to honour his brother Mark Philips.

There’s lots of information on the area here https://www.thewelcombehills.co.uk

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In 1903 William Wood and Son, horticultural specialists to His Majesty the King, placed an advertisement in The Garden magazine announcing two new introductions to their range. These were exotically named summerhouses: the ‘Resiance’ and its little sister the ‘Resianette’. The magazine also ran a feature in the same month (actually lifted from a Wood & Son circular), in which the writer announced that ‘we here present two pictures of distinctly novel structures which appear to be very much in advance of ordinary summer houses’.

Messrs Wood were based in Wood Green in North London, and had grown to become an important company which offered a full range of garden and landscape services: estate development, horticultural building, engineering and contracting and landscape gardening as well as supplying all horticultural requisites. Their literature proudly displayed their Royal Warrant as horticultural specialists to King Edward VII, and announced their many horticultural prizes and medals.

The Resianette was the smaller of the two new garden ornaments, and its alternative title makes clear its target market: The Ladies’ Bijou Summerhouse. Elevated above ground to protect from damp, it could also be enclosed with curtains to provide shade and had a terrace for taking tea and reading.

Whilst the ladies kept their pale complexions, the men could lounge about in the Resiance (an archaic term for a residence) which featured a ‘Sun Bath’. The upper storey rotated around a central column so that the open side faced the sun – so new was this idea that the article added a helpful ‘for sunbathing’ in parentheses. The upper floor might house a telescope and the lower floor an aquarium or fernery. The finishing touch to this ‘very picturesque adjunct’ would be roses and ramblers entwined around the pergola which encircled the building.

How many Resiances were snapped up is not known, but at least one Resianette was constructed and it went on display at the 1905 Royal Horticultural Society show at Chelsea. In honour of King Edward’s Queen Consort the building was described as the ‘Alexandra Tea or Summer House’.

The two buildings, as well as other ‘chalets’, were still being marketed in the company’s 1909 catalogue. By that date the wellbeing properties of the Resiance in particular were being promoted, with it described as ‘a temple of health and pleasure’ where one could sunbathe or sleep outdoors. With the buildings being offered for sale for 6 years by this date it must be assumed they were a success with the public, but the Flâneuse has failed to find any further record of these wonderful, if ephemeral, garden buildings. As ever, if you have further information please get in touch.

The work of Messrs Woods was featured in an article by Valerie Joynt in the current issue of Garden History, the journal of The Gardens Trust. A mention of the two garden ornaments set the Flâneuse scurrying into the archives and Valerie is thanked for sharing her research. Find out more about joining and receiving the journal here https://thegardenstrust.org

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