Hubert Walter Wandesford Fenwick, architect turned architectural historian and writer, was a regular contributor to The Scots Magazine, a monthly publication that claims to be the oldest magazine in Britain still in publication, having been launched in 1739. In 1965 Fenwick wrote an article about ‘Features and Follies’, in Scotland, illustrated with his own very attractive colour sketches.

Fenwick (1916-2003) starts, as so many writers on architectural curiosities do, with the thorny question of how to define a folly. He quotes the Universal English Dictionary which states that a folly is a ‘useless, fantastic structure, built from foolish caprice’, but he does not think it is an accurate description. He then launches into an analogy which the Flâneuse rather likes: ‘… after all, most oil paintings are useless, unless they happen to cover a gap or a dirty mark on the wall. Most paintings are fantastic, some even foolish, but they, nevertheless, tend to make life more interesting and civilised, and they express an aspect of the human spirit.’ It is, he concludes, the same with a good folly. He is however strict about his classifications of what is a folly and what is a feature.

McCaig’s tower at Oban, for instance, is a feature, not a folly, as it was originally intended as an ’eminently practical’ museum. According to Fenwick’s rules, the Wallace Monument at Stirling is a commemorative tower, not a folly.

The buildings that do qualify as folly in Fenwick’s opinion are a particularly lovely bunch, and amongst his selection are The Whim at Blair which he describes as a ‘dummy fort’, the sham ruin on Balcarres Crag in Fife, the tower on Kinnoul Hill in Perth which was built to show that the Tay was the equal of the Rhine, Ossian’s Temple (aka the Hermitage) at Dunkeld, the Craigiehall Temple and Hume Castle which is a ‘magnificent fake’. The Pineapple at Dunmore is included for its ‘extremely clever and imaginative design’.

Fenwick wrote the piece in response to a book about follies which he had recently read. He felt cheated as it contained ‘less than a dozen Scottish examples’ (actually there are exactly twelve), and only two that ‘could legitimately be so designated’. He failed to name the book, but he does give the clue that it was produced by a ‘petrol firm’, so we can be sure it was Follies, written by Ella Hatt, beautifully illustrated by Paul Sharp, and published by National Benzole in 1963 (there’s more about that book here.) In case you are wondering, the two true follies that Fenwick approved of in the book were the sham on Balcarres Crag and the Hermitage at Dunkeld.

You can read more about the history of the Scots Magazine here.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts are always welcome so please scroll down to the comments box at the foot of the page if you would like to get in touch. Don’t forget that clicking on the highlighted text will take you to further folly stories.

Just south of Glasgow an immense drum topped with a dome can be glimpsed from the M74 motorway. This is the mausoleum commissioned by the 10th Duke of Hamilton. When he was interred there in 1852, it was hailed in the newspapers as ‘the most costly and magnificent temple for the reception of the dead in the world’, although with the caveat ‘always excepting the Pyramids’.

Alexander, 10th Duke of Hamilton (1767-1852) inherited Hamilton Palace from his father in 1819. He had been on the Grand Tour and had a passion for arts and antiquities, building up a vast and important collection.

A number of architects were consulted about the planned mausoleum, including the Duke’s kinsman David Hamilton (1768-1843). Hamilton designed the crypt with niches for the coffins of many generations to come.

But the rest of the building we see today was built to a design by David Bryce (1803-1876) based on a sketch by the Duke himself. By 1852 the crypt was ready to receive the remains of the Duke’s ancestors which were brought to the mausoleum from the old church in Hamilton. The building was still incomplete when the duke died in September of the same year, although he was immediately laid to rest in his sarcophagus in the upper chamber and work continued around him.

The Duke was fascinated by all things Egyptian and had asked a specialist, Mr Pettigrew, to embalm his body after his death. He then wished to be placed in a sarcophagus which he had purchased. This casket, ‘executed by the most cunning workmen of the Pharoahs’ featured a female face and was thought to have been used in the burial of an Egyptian queen: according to one source the Duke ordered it to be further chiselled out to make room for his body.

Not everyone was impressed with the Duke’s mausoleum (or the Duke for that matter: he was considered self-important). In 1863 Lady Waterford found it in poor taste, writing that it was a ‘monument of pride’ in which the Duke ‘reposes alone […] under an immense doom [dome] in the sarcophagus of an Egyptian queen’.

In 1943 a novel called The Pleasure Dome was published. It was the work of Elizabeth Kyle, and the story was based on the history of Hamilton Palace, and the colourful characters associated with it. Elizabeth Kyle was a pen-name of Agnes Mary Robertson Dunlap (1901-1982), who also published as Mary Forsyth and Jan Ralston, although she used her real name for her journalism. Her first novel was published in 1934 when she was described as ‘not one of those writers who derive local colouring from their imagination’: instead she drew upon her experiences of wandering ‘about Europe and America in a more or less vagabond way in order to satisfy her craving for adventure’. She also travelled widely as a correspondent for both the Manchester Guardian and the Glasgow Herald.

The Flâneuse is rambling, but there is a good reason for introducing the book. Kyle’s characters include the Duke of Hamilton, his architect, and the architect’s assistant Mr Connell, a man who has experience in building ‘whigmaleeries’. This wonderful word instantly evokes something enchanted or whimsical, but the Folly Flâneuse reached for her dictionary to double-check: whigmaleerie – ‘a fanciful ornament or contrivance’. Also in the cast of characters was the Duke’s father-in-law William Beckford, builder of whigmaleeries including Fonthill Abbey in Wiltshire to a design by James Wyatt and Beckford’s Tower in Bath (H.E. Goodridge, architect of Beckford’s Tower, was one of the men who submitted a design for the mausoleum at Hamilton Palace).

The mausoleum featured on many nineteenth century picture postcards, but one in particular caught the eye of the Flâneuse. The message on the front is quite conventional, with Howard sending lots of love to his sweetheart in 1904, but the reverse, written in code, suggests clandestine meetings and illicit affairs. Upon cracking the code Howard is found to be above reproach: he tells Lilian his cold is getting better and comments on the weather. Incurable romantics will however be pleased to know that Howard and Lilian married in 1910 and had a long life together.

The family collection, including the treasures collected by the 10th Duke, was sold in a magnificent sale in 1882. In the early 1920s mineral workings under the estate threatened the stability of the palace and the mausoleum. In 1921 the bodies in the crypt, along with the 10th Duke in his sarcophagus, were reinterred in the nearby Bent Cemetery, where a simple monument marks their site (the remains of two most recent Dukes were reinterred on the Isle of Arran). Only the plinth which once held the sarcophagus remains in the upper room of the mausoleum.

The 13th Duke of Hamilton sold a vast chunk of the estate, including the palace, mausoleum and the hunting lodge called Chatelherault to Hamilton Town Council in the early 1920s. Work began almost immediately to demolish the palace, and there were calls to pull down the mausoleum too. Happily, local interest was so strong that the plans were abandoned. Today the mausoleum stands as an unlikely eye-catcher in the midst of playing fields and cricket pitches.

For much more on the history of the mausoleum visit the Low Parks Museum in Hamilton or see the excellent Virtual Hamilton Palace website https://vhpt.org

The mausoleum is open for very entertaining guided tours on certain days each year. There’s more here https://www.slleisureandculture.co.uk/info/201/hamilton_mausoleum/234/tours

Thank you for reading. The Flâneuse is always pleased to receive any thoughts or comments. Please scroll down to the foot of the page to get in touch.

Hume Castle stands on a prominent site, visible for miles round. Initially, this gave it great defensive strengths, but by the later 18th century the ‘considerable eminence’ was thought the perfect site for an eye-catcher. The ruins of the ancient fortification were pulled down and the stone reused to create a curiously crenellated sham castle.

The original castle is said to have been destroyed after it fell to Cromwell’s troops in 1651. It remained a scant ruin until Hugh Hume-Campbell, 3rd Earl of Marchmont (1708-1794), ‘restored and rebattlemented’ it in the later 18th century. An exact date seems elusive, but it was complete by 1789 when this sketch was executed.

The new and very dramatic tower stood bold on the skyline, and could be seen from Marchmont, the new Palladian house the earl began in 1750 a few miles away.

18th century accounts of the new Hume Castle seem hard to find, but later visitors could be quite scathing. In 1908 Alexander Curle, the secretary of the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland, wrote in his ‘private journal of a Wandering Antiquary’ that Hume Castle was a ‘ridiculous fantastic erection, a modern ruin raised on the site of the ancient fortress’.

A few years later A.G. Bradley described the castle in his The Gateway of Scotland. He thought the ‘terrible mock battlements’ were not even up to the standards of ‘the comic opera stage’.  Clearly the Earl of Marchmont rebuilt the castle with the view from Marchmont House in mind, and a journalist in 1927 best summed up the situation when he quoted the Scottish poet Thomas Campbell’s line that ‘distance lends enchantment to the view’. There is no denying that at close quarters the giant crenellations are distinctly odd.

In 1970 The Scotsman ran a story by William Chisholm headlined ‘Future of freak castle in the balance’. The Earl of Marchmont’s descendants had sold the castle (as part of the Humehall estate) to the tenant in 1914, and in 1929 it had passed into the ownership of the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries. By 1970 this body was keen to dispose of the castle but both the National Trust for Scotland and the Ministry of Public Buildings declined to take it on.

There was an impasse for more than twenty years, but we can follow the story via Chisholm’s regular updates in the newspaper. In 1981 there was still ‘extreme difficulty’ in disposing of the building, and in 1984 it was announced that the castle was crumbling and in urgent need of restorations.

The hero of the hour was the Berwickshire Civic Society, under the chairmanship of Major-General Sir John Swinton. The society took a lease on the castle and raised £150,000 to stabilise the walls, install a door and replace railings. The project was managed by architect David Mylne from 1985 until completion in 1992. Chisholm could then write in The Scotsman that the future of Hume Castle was at last secure. It is now in the care of the Hume Castle Preservation Trust and the public are welcome to visit.

Marchmont House passed out of Hume family ownership early in the 20th century and became separated from its lands. The estate was reunited by the Burge family in the later years of that century, and a hugely impressive restoration project has seen the house restored and filled with a collection spanning more than five centuries.

Hume Castle is no longer an eye-catcher from Marchmont as mature plantations block the view, but the Flâneuse was reliably informed that it can be seen from the roof.

Marchmont House can be visited on open days and you can read more here https://www.marchmonthouse.com

For more on the castle see https://humecastle.org/

Thanks for reading. Please scroll down to the comments box at the very bottom of the page to share any thoughts or information. 

In the border town of Coldstream a footpath leads from a lodge down to the river Tweed. The route passes an ice-house shaded by trees before a stroll along the riverbank brings one to an elegant stone temple. The Temple ornamented the landscape of a grand Georgian mansion called The Lees, which was largely pulled down in the 1970s.

The Lees (sometimes just Lees) was the seat of the interrelated Pringle and Marjoribanks (pronounced Marchbanks) family. In 1760 a traveller noted that ‘Mr Pringle has built a handsome house, and made a beautiful plantation’: ‘Mr Pringle’ was James, who died in 1769 leaving the estate to his cousin Edward Marjoribanks.

The temple was extant by 1769 when a historian noted Mr Pringle’s ‘modern seat’ as well as the ‘octagonal tempiato’ on the banks of the river. It is shown as an existing feature on a ‘Design for the improvement of Lees’ by the Edinburgh based designer Richard Stephens (?-1821) dated 1816. Stephens’ family business was in ‘draining, irrigating and embanking’, but he also drew up improvement plans for a small number of Scottish estates.

The Temple is named as such on the 1st edition Ordnance Survey map of 1858. The map shows the Temple and the Ice House as well as an array of summerhouses and seats that are lost today, and the surveyors preparing the map noted the ‘considerable and well laid out pleasure grounds’. Historic England Scotland incorrectly date the structure to the ‘later 18th century’ and it is listed as Category B.

By the middle of the 20th century the house at The Lees was in a very dilapidated condition and the then owners were only interested in the fishing rights. In 1975, when all attempts to find a buyer or a purpose had been exhausted, permission was granted to demolish. By that date the house was owned by Andrew Douglas-Home, nephew of the former Prime Minister (which information the Flâneuse shares simply so the headline in The Scotsman can be understood: ‘Doom for House of Home’). The paper reported that whilst the Scottish Civic Trust and the Scottish Georgian Society thought the case was ‘one of the saddest ever’, they accepted that there was no alternative to demolition.

Douglas-Home had a long term plan to build a new house on the site, and for that reason the circular central section won a reprieve and was left standing.

Towards the end of the 20th century it was incorporated into a new house designed by Nicholas Groves-Raines, which has since been further extended.

As briefly mentioned the Tweed is of course famed for salmon, and the wide stretch of river in front of the Temple became known to fishermen as ‘Temple Pool’, as seen in this postcard view (which helpfully points out that in Coldstream the river is the border between Scotland and England).

After the Right to Roam was introduced in Scotland Mr Douglas-Home created a footpath through his grounds and down to the river. Walkers are welcome but are requested to keep to the path and to respect the usual rules of the countryside (and to give Mr Douglas-Home a cheery hello if you see him out and about).

Thank you for reading and do please get in touch if you have any thoughts or comments – scroll down to the bottom of the page to make contact.

On a rocky stretch of shore at Achmelvich, in the remote Assynt district on the west coast of Scotland, is a little concrete structure. Built in the early 1950s, it is known today as the Hermit’s Castle and the tale is told that having erected a shelter in the form of miniature fortress, the builder spent only one night under its roof.

In fact locals remembered the builder as a sociable man rather than a hermit. His name was David Scott and he was apparently an architect from Norwich who loved this part of Scotland and ‘expressed a desire to build a retreat in keeping with the mood of the coast and mountains’. Scott built the curious structure as a bothy where he could spend the night after walking on the coast and sketching local scenes, and he saw the project as both a ‘practical exercise and artistic endeavour’. He carried the materials to the shore himself and furnished the interior with a stone bed, shelves for basics, and most importantly a fireplace for warmth. Scott is remembered as a frequent visitor in subsequent years.

Scott continued to keep in touch with villagers in the tiny hamlet of Achmelvich for some years after work took him to Norway and Greenland, but then the letters stopped and locals were left to wonder what had happened to the striking bearded figure who had become part of their community.

He had apparently left by 1956 when a visitor was taken to see the ‘hermit’s hut’ by a local boy. The boy explained that the hermit had spent many weeks hauling materials to the site, and had then spent a whole winter living in the structure. When the hermit moved on, the boy recounted, he left the key with the local crofters and asked them to let anyone who needed shelter use his former abode.

In the 1980s Gordon Bryan interviewed Achmelvich residents who wanted to ‘put the record straight’ as newspapers were repeating the inaccurate story that Scott only spent one night in the bothy. Bryan’s article about ‘One Man’s Castle’ was published in The Scot’s Magazine in 1986: it is an invaluable source for the true history of the curious coastal cabin, and one which the Folly Flâneuse gratefully acknowledges as her main source. Bryan ended by asking if any readers knew what became of David Scott, but there does not appear to have been any response.

The so-called Hermit’s Castle has been featured by the crime novelist Val McDermid. Inspired by the poet Norman MacCaig, who spent much time in the area and featured it in his work, McDermid visited Assynt. In her 2017 short story ‘Ancient and Modern’ her characters stumble across the incongruous ‘miniature fortress’:

‘Then we crested a shoulder of hillside and both stopped in our tracks. Ahead of us, on the edge of the cliff above a steep-backed inlet in the promontory was something so unexpected I wondered if I was hallucinating it. But a quick glance at Alan’s face told me he could see it too’

McDermid also featured the bothy in her 2004 novel The Torment of Others and in her 2019 book My Scotland.

The beach at Achmelvich is one of the recommended stops just off the North Coast 500, the popular circular driving tour of northern Scotland. This has brought more visitors to Achmelvich (although the Flâneuse expects many visitors leave without finding the bothy), and yet more repetitions of the myth that Scott was a recluse who only spent one night in Achmelvich, so it is good to once more put the record straight.

It is now almost 40 years since Bryan appealed for information about this fascinating man and his sui generis structure. The flâneuse’s more recent research has also drawn a blank (top marks to the librarian at the National Association of Norwegian Architects for replying to an email in under an hour). So over to you: if by chance you do know anything about an architect called David Scott, who practised in Norwich, loved Scotland, and worked at Dounreay power station and in Norway and Greenland, do please get in touch.

Val McDermid’s short story is from a collection called Bloody Scotland published by Historic Environment Scotland in 2017. ‘Ancient and Modern’ was published in the i newspaper and you can read it here https://inews.co.uk/culture/books/ancient-modern-val-mcdermid-short-story-bloody-scotland-crime-fiction-86913

The bothy is not listed, but it is on Historic Environment Scotland’s Buildings At Risk Register. It is marked on some map apps, but if you visit do just wander and get a little lost before you find it and enjoy the thrill of the chase.

After perhaps a little too much festive frowsting by the fire, the Folly Flâneuse is back in action. Best wishes to all readers for a fun, fit and folly-filled 2024.

Thank you for reading and please scroll down to the comments box at the bottom of the page to share any thoughts or further information.

Islay House was known as Kilarrow House until the middle of the eighteenth century. It was given its new name by Donald Campbell the Younger after he remodelled the house in the 1760s. Four lookout towers were built on the island, and the two known simply as the East and West towers, survive today in the park.

Donald Campbell junior (c.1737-1777), so-called to distinguish him from his grandfather Donald ‘the Great’, inherited the estate in 1753 whilst still in his teens. After a Grand Tour lasting 5 years, he returned to the island. He then began to improve his estate which stood near Bridgend overlooking the sea loch, Loch Indaal. By early the next century it was described as a ‘handsome mansion […] in grounds tastefully laid out, and embellished with plantations’.

In 1766 Campbell began to build the handsome model village of Bowmore, which would eventually replace the ancient settlement of Kilarrow. In December of that year he advertised the venture and invited ‘mechanics’ of all kinds, but especially carpenters, coopers, net-makers and all those versed in the linen and fishing industries to move to the island and prosper there. Built on a grid system, the ‘new town’ centred on the circular church, which a 1767 account described as ‘now building after a new Model in the Form of the Pantheon at Rome’. It’s a rather loose interpretation, and for rather obvious reasons the Hebridean version has no oculus in the dome. Instead there is a central pillar supporting the structure.

At around the same time Campbell may have ornamented his park with a belvedere or lookout tower. The East Tower, which stands on the knoll called Cnoc na Croiche (‘hill of the hanging’, after the Gallows which once stood there), is a rubble-built octagon, over 11 metres high, which formerly contained 4 floors, although it is now simply a shell.

Above the door is a carved cartouche containing the initials DC, for the builder, and GR, which is assumed to show allegiance to George III (George Rex). The presence of this plaque has led to the assumption that Donald Campbell built the tower, but an alternative theory is that the stone was removed from the house when it was remodelled in the early 19th century, making the tower the work of Daniel junior’s brother and heir Walter (died 1816).

Few contemporary descriptions survive but in the middle of the 19th century it was described as having ’embrasures in the bank for small cannon, giving it the character of a miniature fortification’. Some of these cannon survive today in the undergrowth around the tower, including one that can be identified as dating from the reign of George III.

Until fairly recently the East Tower, on its slight eminence, was clearly visible from the passing road, but it is now becoming obscured by young trees, and with the rooftop platform lost, so too is the view to the loch.

Further from the house, the West Tower is the simpler of the two follies – a squat square tower built of rubble with rough castellations. It carries no inscription, but was built by Daniel Campbell’s descendants as a lookout tower and battery (there were also towers armed with cannon at Bowmore and Port Askaig, both now demolished). They were built to protect Islay during the Napoleonic Wars, and a flashpoint may have been the events of December 1813, when an American privateer, the True Blooded Yankee, entered the loch and plundered ‘several vessels’ before setting them alight.

In more peaceful times both towers were maintained as ornaments within the pleasure grounds of Islay House.

Both towers are listed category B, and both appear on the Buildings at Risk Register in Scotland, although in the ‘low’ category suggesting that general maintenance is all that is required.

Islay House, now a hotel, is a rambling building which has been extended since it was described in 1827 as a ‘large uncouth structure’.

Speaking of which, the Folly Flâneuse’s uncouth companion, who has not made an appearance in these pages for some time, has clearly found something more to his taste than follies…

Islay House is currently on the market, if you fancy life as a Hebridean hotelier you can read more here https://www.knightfrank.co.uk/properties/residential/for-sale/bridgend-isle-of-islay-argyll-and-bute-pa44/edn012287140

If you would like to share any information or thoughts you can find the comments section at the bottom of the page. Thank you for reading.

On the edge of Edinburgh stands a wonderful stone tower. A first glimpse of its crenellated parapet over the roof of a vast industrial shed was followed by a few wrong turns, but eventually The Folly Flâneuse found herself in a field with a herd of cows and a very fine folly.

The Dryden estate, not far from the famed Roslin Castle and Chapel, was for generations the seat of the Lockhart family. In July 1822 the Lockhart family were given authority, by Act of Parliament, to sell the entailed estate, but the tower is not mentioned in the newspaper advertisement of the sale. The purchaser was probably George Mercer (1772-1853) and he lived at Dryden until the mid 1840s. The estate was then bought by Archibald Trotter (1789-1868), recently retired from a career with the East India Company. In 1845 he is listed as a member of the Highland & Agricultural Society for Scotland, and in the following year his gardener won first prize for his lettuces at the Roslin Horticultural Society Show. The Folly Flâneuse tells you this simply so she can say that Archibald Trotter, who sounds like a Beatrix Potter character, had a gardener called Mr McGregor.

So under whose ownership was the tower built? The available cartographical evidence is ambiguous: an 1828 map shows Dryden House and an ‘obelisk’. At that period the term obelisk could be used to refer to any tall, slender object – so a tower could have been in existence. Alternatively, the ‘obelisk’ may have been a now-lost monument to the Battle of Roslin of 1303, when the Scottish army defeated the English. The Lockhart family had been prominent Jacobites, and later generations are said to have marked the spot of the battle. The first firm mention is in May 1852, when the surveyors working on the Ordnance Survey mapping project admired the views from the top of Mr Trotter’s tower, and ‘Dryden Tower’ duly appeared on the map published in 1854.

The tower is 3 storeys high and stairs lead up to a parapet, from which there are extensive views. It would also have functioned as an eye-catcher, a prominent object in the view from the mansion. The ground floor is an unusual demi-lune in shape, and contains rooms that were probably initially used for picnics or shelter when riding around the estate. By 1892 its origins had already been forgotten, and a rambler making enquiries amongst the locals concluded ‘why so called or what meant for could not be learned’. The Folly Flâneuse has reached a similar conclusion.

The Dryden estate had been mined on a small-scale for centuries, but in the 1930s the mansion was demolished, and its landscape largely obliterated by the extensive coal mining of the Bilston Glen Colliery. In 1947 the University of Edinburgh purchased the land to create a rural campus, and the Dryden Tower was included in the sale. It was offered the protection of a Category B listing in 1971, but continued to fall into disrepair and was a sad sight surrounded by “Keep Out’ notices.

As the images here show, there is a happy ending. In 2014-15 a major restoration was carried out under the supervision of Architect and Stone Consultant Bob Heath, a long-time collaborator with the university. Amongst countless historic buildings his impressive c.v. includes working on the pagoda at Culzean Castle, and on not one but two Wallace Monuments (Dryburgh and Stirling). The mason was Donald McIntyre, of McIntyre Masonry, who with his apprentice, Bob, replaced all of the pointing and 10 tons of decayed stone. It was Donald’s idea to add to the building’s history by installing a new stone gargoyle – and it was his skilled carving that created it. Architect and mason agreed that it was a dream project to work on – completed on time and on budget – and everyone got along, even after Donald admitted that the gargoyle was modelled on Bob the architect, particularly ‘his big mouth’.

Thanks to McIntrye Masonry for permission to use their bright images, as The Folly Flâneuse was not lucky with the weather in July 2020…

Thank you for reading. Please scroll down to the comments box below if you wish to share any thoughts on the Dryden Tower, or on follies in general. 

As summer turned to autumn The Folly Flâneuse was reminded of a jolly jaunt to Jupiter Artland, a sculpture garden just outside Edinburgh, on a glorious day a year ago. A highlight was Pablo Bronstein’s Rose Walk, a pair of pavilions terminating a 25 metre long rose garden, their white-painted tracery magnificent against a clear blue sky. 

The Rose Walk was commissioned by Jupiter Artland in 2017. The pavilions, described as ‘imposing and elaborate follies’, lead the visitor into a small rose garden, which is enclosed by the trelliswork fences which link the two kiosks. Light streams in through the seemingly fragile, but actually incredibly solid, structure, and the standard roses are clearly very content.

Leaving the Chinese pavilion and heading towards the Gothic is like walking down the aisle of a church, and the Folly Flâneuse was soon humming the Bridal Chorus. The airy structure also reminded her of Sir James Hall’s Willow Cathedral. Hall’s theory, first published in 1797, was that early gothic architecture sought unconsciously to emulate the natural shapes of nature – the straights and curves of trunks, boughs and twigs becoming the columns, arches and tracery of the gothic. Bronstein’s site-specific Rose Walk likewise unites architecture and nature.

The gardens and parkland of Jupiter Artland surround the private home of founders Robert and Nicky Wilson, and are also home to sculptures and pavilions by artists including Antony Gormley, Anya Gallacio and Ian Hamilton Finlay, as well as a wonderful sweeping landform by the late Charles Jencks.

Pablo Bronstein, an Argentinian artist now based in London, works in a number of genres, but almost always with architecture as an influence. In 2014 he created a ‘monument to architecture’ for the Folkestone Triennial. His Beach Hut in the Style of Nicholas Hawksmoor pays homage to the great baroque architect, whose style was echoed in the design of the now lost monumental lighthouses which once stood on the south coast.

The convivial visit to Jupiter Artland was organised by The Folly Fellowship, which exists to protect, preserve, and promote follies, grottoes, and garden buildings  http://follies.org.uk

Right now, we all need something to look forward to, so put Jupiter Artland in your diary for 2021 https://www.jupiterartland.org

The 2020 Folkestone Triennial has been postponed until 2021, so something else to dream of  https://www.creativefolkestone.org.uk/folkestone-triennial/folkestone-triennial-2020-the-plot/

High above the wonderfully scenic A712 from New Galloway to Newton Stewart, in the Scottish Lowlands, stands this granite monument. After a stiff climb up the hillside the views are breathtaking in both senses: the ascent will leave you short of breath, but you will gasp in awe at the views.

The monument commemorates Alexander Murray (1775-1813), the son of a local shepherd, who ‘by his genius and industry […] raised himself to unrivalled eminence’. From childhood he was fascinated by languages, and without teacher or tutor soon mastered the classics and modern European tongues. He was ordained a priest, but philology (the study of the history of language) remained his greatest love, and apparently following the advice of that darling of Dumfriesshire, Robert Burns, he won a scholarship to attend the University of Edinburgh. His ‘intimate knowledge of the Abyssinian language’ brought him to the attention of the king in 1811, when he translated a letter to the monarch from the prime minister of Ethiopia. He was appointed Professor of Oriental Languages at the University of Edinburgh in 1812, but sadly his health failed, and he died the following year.

Looking along the valley towards the spot where Murray was born.
His first memorial was in verse, when the poet William Nicholson composed ‘On the death of the Rev. Dr Murray’, celebrating his achievements:

… Twas his the depths of language to unlock,
What every tongue in every clime hath spoke.

But curiously, for one who was so lauded, it took over 20 years for a more substantial monument to his memory to be erected. In 1833 a committee was formed in Edinburgh, and an appeal for subscribers to a monument was published in the papers. A prospectus was issued with an account of Murray’s life and a lithograph of the proposed design signed ‘J. Henderson, Archt’. This was probably John Henderson (1804-1862), a protege of Lord Panmure, then in the early stages of his career.

The prospectus made it clear that the design might be ‘modified or altered’ if the requisite funds were not found. The simplified design of the obelisk, as eventually constructed in 1835, suggests that there was indeed a shortfall. The monument was erected on land owned by the Stewarts of Cairnsmore, and the inscription records James Stewart’s ‘exertions and skill’ in getting the monument built. Presumably his exertions were not as strenuous as those of the builders who carted the materials up the steep hillside.

Murray had been buried in Greyfriars churchyard in Edinburgh, but the grave was not marked and an 1867 guide to the memorials in the graveyard noted that Murray had ‘no monument’.  In 1876 a ‘committee of gentlemen’ launched a second appeal to raise funds to erect a memorial over his burial place in Edinburgh. A smaller granite obelisk now commemorates the ‘Shepherd Boy who rose to be the most Eminent Linguist and Oriental Scholar of his day’.

The appeal also raised funds and to add an inscription to the earlier hilltop obelisk:

ALEXANDER MURRAY, D.D.
MINISTER OF URR 1806 TO 1813
PROFESSOR OF LANGUAGES
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH 1812-1813
BORN AT DUNKITTERICK 22ND OCTOBER 1775
DIED AT EDINBURGH 15TH APRIL 1813
REARED A SHEPHERD BOY ON THESE HILLSIDES
ERECTED BY HIS COUNTRYMEN IN 1835
MAINLY THROUGH THE EXERTIONS AND SKILL OF
JAMES STEWART ESQ. OF CAIRNSMORE
ON WHOSE PROPERTY IT STANDS

The obelisk near Newton Stewart was damaged in a gale in November 1929, and once again a subscription was raised to enable its restoration. This was completed in 1931 when a crowd of 600-700 people gathered to mark the occasion. The obelisk is now owned by the Forestry Commission and there is a small car park at the foot of the hill. It’s well worth the climb.

Sir John Clerk’s great mansion at Penicuik was devastated by fire in 1889, and remained derelict and dangerous for over a century. It was consolidated by the Penicuik House Preservation Trust in 2007-2014, and is now a thriving visitor attraction and education centre. The Trust will soon turn its attention to another of its stated conservation aims: ‘preserving and restoring the historic built structures within the Designed Landscape’. Excellent news!

The first of the ornamental structures in line to be restored is the Tower on Knight’s Law; a fitting choice as it was Sir John’s earliest addition to his estate in 1749-51 (although it had been a decade in the planning). Long before William Morris made the phrase ‘beautiful and useful’ famous, Sir John intended that the tower would be ‘an ornament to my Country as well as my estate’ whilst being ‘beneficial to my family as a Dovecoat’. Conscious of his privileged position in society, he also felt it his duty to find work for the ‘Masons, Wrights and other workmen’ of the neighbourhood. Above the door he had cut the date MDCCL and the inscription TIBI SIT PRUDENTIA TURRIS, which has been translated as ‘Let wisdom be your tower’.

Whilst the doves are gone, the Trust plans that the tower’s ornamental role as belvedere will be revived and hopes eventually to enable public access to the rooftop viewing platform.

From the south-east front of the house (above) an avenue leads to the Chinese Gates and a view across the dramatic valley of the Esk. The vista is terminated by the Ramsay Monument, on which the Trust hope to start work in around 18 months. This wonderful quirky feature takes the form of a square pedestal with an arch supporting an obelisk pierced with three oval openings.

The monument celebrates the life of Allan Ramsay, the Scottish poet, dramatist, and key figure in the Scottish Enlightenment, who was a friend of Sir John. An inscription inside the arch records that Sir John’s son and heir, Sir James Clerk, erected the eye-catcher in Ramsay’s memory in 1759. No architect has been identified, but Sir James may have been inspired by lines from The Country Seat, a poem published by his father in 1727, when he placed the obelisk:

That Avenue will most delight the Sight
That on some beauteous object shapes it way

Regular readers will know that The Folly Flâneuse does appreciate a good cup of coffee after an afternoon of strolling, and she was not disappointed at the Penicuik cafe. It’s all very much a work in progress on the estate at the moment, but well worth a visit – and many more as work progresses. More here https://www.penicuikhouse.com