View of the tower by John Varley, 1823. Courtesy of Chris Beetles Gallery, St James's, London. Full details below.
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.
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.
In 1828 Henry Nevill, 2nd Earl of Abergavenny, built a tower on high ground at Eridge Castle, on the extensive Nevill Estate in East Sussex, close to the border with Kent. The elegant tapering tower was both belvedere with ‘magnificent’ prospect and eye-catcher. It echoed the architecture of the multi-turreted mansion begun in about 1787 with work continuing well into the nineteenth century. After falling into decay the tower found a new purpose in the last years of the twentieth century.
In 1837 George Jones opened a pleasure garden by the Thames at Gravesend. It was a great success, and new features were quickly added to tempt visitors. By 1849 it was said that the gardens were ‘sweet, safe, shady and salubrious’ and the ‘prettiest thing’ between the Thames and the Tiber.
In February 1992 the North Wales Weekly News carried its usual list of planning applications. Among them was an announcement that Bodysgallen Hall Hotel wished to convert a barn and stable into accommodation, and to erect a new ‘leisure building, tower folly and obelisk’. No objections were received, and permission was granted by Aberconwy Council.
Bodysgallen Hall from the gardens.
In 1980 Bodysgallen Hall, former seat of the Mostyn and Wynn families, had become part of the small Historic House Hotels group, established by Richard Broyd. The house, gardens and estate buildings were restored, and Broyd wished to erect an obelisk as a ‘decorative asset to the landscape’. Plans were drawn up by his architect Eric Throssell, and both the stone and the stonemason, Henry Wilson, were local.
But as work got underway in autumn 1992 locals claimed that they hadn’t been properly informed of the plans, and a vociferous campaign was launched demanding that the Obelisk be demolished. There were genuine concerns, including that the planning officers had not realised that Ffrith Hill was a Site of Specific Scientific Interest.
Cowslips and orchid near the obelisk. Note the droplets and please applaud the Flâneuse for climbing up to the obelisk in wild wind and rain.
But among the odder complaints was the fact that the Obelisk ‘dominated the landscape’ – a strange criticism as obelisks are not usually shy and retiring types, and generally prefer to hog the limelight on an eminence. Even more bizarre was the opponent who suggested that placing the Obelisk near the edge of a former quarry encouraged men to ‘urinate over the cliff into the garden of a house 150 feet below’. Reporting this in the local paper, a journalist suggested that such a feat would merit entry in the Guinness Book of Records requiring as it did a ‘jet of some 25 feet’.
Meanwhile Richard Broyd was adamant that the correct procedures had been followed and he was prepared to fight, telling the Daily Telegraph that ‘he who builds an obelisk has to defend it’.
A view from the obelisk. Unfortunately it was very dull day, enlivened only by the golden glow of the cowslips.
In brief, the council began to get cold feet after the anti-obelisk campaigners made a complaint of maladministration, claiming the council should never have granted planning permission. Despite a barrister assuring the councillors that their decision was robust, and that Mr Broyd had followed the correct procedures, the Planning Committee voted to demolish the Obelisk. The matter then went to the full council and the proposal was defeated by just one vote. On 16 September 1993 the local paper ran the story under the succinct headline of ‘Obelisk is staying’.
There had been support for the Obelisk too, and some who had been concerned later admitted admiration for the completed structure, which stands 19.5 metres high. But some resentment remained, and there are locals who will tell you dark tales of a plot to blow the obelisk to pieces. Even now, some 30 years on, the structure seems destined never to be mentioned as anything but the ‘controversial obelisk’.
The miniature obelisk produced as a souvenir by the hotel when the obelisk was first constructed. Normally an ornament to the desk of the Flâneuse, it enjoyed a brief foray into the sunshine for this photo opportunity.
The Folly Flâneuse took the Uncouth Companion to Bodysgallen Hall as a birthday treat soon after the obelisk was completed (he having long since learned that such jaunts had one, or more, ulterior motives) and walked up to the Obelisk. The photo’s from that pre-digital age have long since faded away, but this little model of the Obelisk, bought at the hotel, sits in the study as a memento of the trip. And of course a return visit was required in order to snap the shots needed for this post.
The Gothic Tower, built of pink rubble sandstone, seen from the woodland walk.
In all of the fuss about the Obelisk the little Gothic Tower, designed in the same period, has been overlooked. A sham ruin sits on raised ground in the woodland, and a climb up to the rooftop viewing platform reveals why this site was chosen. There’s lovely vista to the obelisk – the only spot in the gardens from where it can be seen.
View from the top of the Gothic Tower to the Obelisk.
Richard Broyd had always intended that his hotel group would pass to the National Trust, and for all profits to benefit the charity. The three properties (the others being Middlethorpe Hall near York and Hartwell House near Aylesbury) were handed over in 2008.
Looking up to the Obelisk from the grounds of Pabo Bach.
Pabo Bach, once home to one of the most vocal objectors to the obelisk, is now a holiday cottage where you can enjoy dramatic views of the former quarry with the obelisk perched on the precipice.
A distant view of the obelisk from the marina at Conwy.
The Obelisk can be seen from the A55 and the Royal Welsh Way leading into Llandudno, as well as from across the estuary in Conwy, and there is public access. The Gothic Tower may only be seen by guests at Bodysgallen Hall Hotel.
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In the little village of Barsby stands a most unexpected delight – a house with a rather fancy pinnacled gothic tower attached. It started life in the late 19th century as a village meeting place – a philanthropic endeavour by the local vicar.
In the 19th century Cullaloe stone was much in demand as a building material: it was widely used in Scotland and England, and exported to Europe and as far as the Caribbean. But in the shadow of the quarries is an abandoned pleasure ground that is home to this beautifully constructed little temple – a perfect demonstration of the colour and quality of the stone. At the other end of the grand terrace on which it stands is a curious rustic tower.
The Battle of Evesham took place on a site near the town in 1265, but it was several centuries later that two memorials to the hero of the hour, Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, were erected. In 1842 Edward Rudge, a civic figure, botanist and antiquary built a tower and obelisk in the grounds of his home, and dedicated them to the battle and the earl.
Card posted in 1910. Courtesy of a private collection.
In 1765 Charles Raymond built a tower on his estate at Valentines in Ilford, Essex. Money was not an issue, for Raymond had grown wealthy in business, and in particular shipping, having started his career in the employ of the East India Company. The prominently-placed sham fortification was an eye-catcher that announced his status to all who passed by. It was intended as his family mausoleum, but things didn’t quite go to plan.
In 1908 T.W. Wilkinson submitted an article on ‘Remarkable Follies’ to Wide World Magazine. This popular publication was launched in 1898 and was aimed at men, and in particular what one writer has called ‘armchair adventurers’. It specialised in true-life tales of derring-do with titles such as ‘The Underground Pirates’ and ‘Across Africa by Boat’. One wonders what the readership made of Wilkinson’s article: exciting as follies are, they don’t quite have the drama of ‘A Subterranean Duel’.
