In 1833 Other Archer Windsor, 6th Earl of Plymouth, died. Almost immediately there were calls to erect a monument in his honour, and a public subscription was raised. With funds in place, the foundation stone was laid in May 1834. The chosen site was on Bromsgrove Lickey, a prominent eminence which would ensure that the obelisk would be an ornament to the landscape and visible from miles around.

Other Archer Windsor, 6th Earl of Plymouth (1789-1833) had a seat at Hewell Grange, in Worcestershire, which had been in the family since the middle of the 16th century, and he seems to have been well-respected locally. Announcing his death in London in July 1833, having just turned 44, Aris’s Birmingham Gazette wrote that the ‘sudden removal of the Noble earl in the midst of life and usefulness, is no less a loss to his county than to the extensive circle and neighbourhood in which he moved’.

The appeal for funds to build a monument was led by members of his former regiment, the Worcestershire Yeomanry Cavalry, but the public were encouraged to donate. By January 1834 about £800 had been collected, and the committee agreed to procure designs and estimates (almost £1000 would be collected in total). The site, on the late earl’s land, was chosen for its ‘elevation and contiguity to the Hewell demesne’.

The foundation stone of the obelisk was laid by Lord Lyttleton of Hagley Hall, Lord Lieutenant of Worcestershire, on Thursday 15 May 1834 and a print was issued showing the proposed design. Lyttleton recorded the occasion in his diary, noting the ‘pretty’ design of the monument.

William Bain designed a medal to commemorate the occasion with the inscription Plaudente et Lucente Comitatu – with the approbation and honour of his county. The laying of the foundation stone is noted on the north side of the obelisk, and on the south is the following inscription:

Loudon’s Architectural Magazine announced that the obelisk was to stand 91 feet and 6 inches tall, and was to be built of Anglesey marble. The magazine gave the architect as John Hanson, and the contractor as John Welch, but Hanson sounds suspiciously like the architect Joseph Aloysius Hansom, and the Worcester Journal of 15 May 1834 confirms that the obelisk was designed by Hansom and his partner Edward Welch. Their practice had won the competition to design the new Birmingham Town Hall in 1830, and that too was under construction in Anglesey stone in May 1834 when Hansom and Welch were dramatically declared bankrupt. At that point the financially embarrassed Hansom and Welch seem to have been quietly expunged from the records (the John Welch commissioned to build the monument was Edward’s brother).

The site was within a plantation of larches and firs, some of which were felled to create a broad grassy swathe which allowed ‘as good a general view of the obelisk as possible’. Lord Lyttleton’s diary suggests that the original plan was to have two broad rides to ‘shew the obelisk on its four faces’, but the idea was clearly abandoned.

Throughout the 19th century visitors were welcomed, but only if permission had been granted. In August 1872 the British Medical Association organised a ‘Worcestershire Excursion’ and having seen the ‘splendid gardens’ at Hewell Grange they went via the private drive through Lickey Woods to see the monument. Elijah Walton’s 19th century view captures the romance of the ride.

In the first half of the twentieth century land at Lickey was gradually acquired by Birmingham Corporation. The hills became a popular recreation place for the people of Birmingham and the surrounding area, with trams bringing huge numbers of visitors out of the prosperous, but polluted, city: ‘Lickey for Health, Birmingham for Wealth’ as an old saying goes.

The crumbling grade II listed monument has been patched up over the years, and in the 1950s steel bands were fitted to hold the column together – the Anglesey stone blocks were becoming detached from the hollow brick core. It was fully restored in 1995, when there was controversy over the costs. Although technically within the Hereford and Worcester boundary, the £85,000 costs were largely met by Birmingham City Council as owners of the land. ‘OUTRAGEOUS!’ hollered the headline in the Birmingham Mail when it was revealed that the project had cost ‘cash-strapped Brum’ double the expected sum of £41,000.

Sadly the vistas cut through the woods have long since become overgrown, and the obelisk stands in a clearing encircled by trees. There are no longer views over the countryside, and it has lost its function as an elegant eye-catcher. A third painting by Elijah Walton depicts the lost view from the obelisk, and shows that the Flâneuse was not the only one to visit on a dreary day

The Lickey Hills Country Park remains a popular local attraction https://www.birmingham.gov.uk/info/20089/parks/406/lickey_hills_country_park

And this website will tell you all you need to know about the area https://thelickeyhills.uk

Thanks to Michael Cousins for sharing the extracts from Lord Lyttleton’s diary

… and thanks to you for reading. If you would like to share any thoughts or memories please scroll down to the contact box at the foot of the page to get in touch.

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.

Rudge (1763-1846) inherited the family seat in the abbey grounds at Evesham in 1790. In 1817 he completed work on a new house in the gothic style, which he called Abbey Manor House. In the gardens were fragments of Evesham Abbey (the bell tower that stands today was the only substantial survivor after the dissolution of the monasteries). Rudge had excavated the site, and ‘architectural and monumental remains of the great abbey’ were moved to his home for ‘safe preservation’.

The grounds of Abbey Manor House contained the site of the Battle of Evesham, and to commemorate this Rudge erected the tower and an obelisk. The tower was built in 1842, and the obelisk is said to have been erected in 1845 (unlike the tower it does not carry a date, and 1845 seems to be the date at which it was first mentioned in print). By the 1840s Rudge was an elderly man –  he died in September 1846 aged 83 – and it seems likely that his son, Edward John Rudge (1792-1861), also an antiquary, might have played a part.

A plaque on the tower is now badly eroded, but the inscription declares that:

THIS TOWER
WAS ERECTED IN THE YEAR MDCCCXLII
TO THE MEMORY OF
SIMON DE MONTFORT
EARL OF LEICESTER
THE FATHER AND FOUNDER OF
THE BRITISH HOUSE OF COMMONS
WHO WAS SLAIN AT THE BATTLE OF
EVESHAM IN THE YEAR MCCLXV

The attractive crenellated tower, on high ground overlooking the river Avon, was visible beyond the bounds of Rudge’s estate and within a couple of years a local historian wrote that ‘We need scarcely add that this conspicuous object forms an ornamental as well as praiseworthy feature in the surrounding landscape’. Presumably it was admired, for in 1866 it was described by the Cotswolds Naturalists Club as the ‘celebrated Leicester Tower’.

The obelisk commemorates the Battle of Evesham, and the four sides of the base feature a plaque with lines from Michael Drayton’s epic poem ‘Poly-Olbion’; an inscription announcing that this spot was the site of the battle (disputed by historians) and a carved panel of arms and armour with the word Victoria.

The fourth side has a wonderful bas-relief illustrating the moment in the battle when King Henry was not recognised, and was almost killed by royal forces. The obelisk stands in a small formal garden, and in the second half of 19th century was often visited by groups of historians and antiquarians. One member of the British Archaeological Society was not impressed when he visited in 1875: he dismissed the obelisk as ‘tastless’ and the decoration as ‘feeble’.

In around 1913 the tower featured as number 9 in the series of 50 ‘Battlefields of Britain’ cigarette cards issued with Smith’s ‘Studio’ Cigarettes.

As the cigarette card shows, by the early 19th century the tower was neglected and smothered with ivy. The Abbey Manor estate was renovated in the late 1990s, with the house being restored and new homes built in the grounds. The tower – by then listing noticeably – was straightened and stabilised for the developers, WeatherArk, and public access to the tower and obelisk was enabled via a concessionary footpath. Tower and obelisk are both listed at grade II.

Later generations of the Rudge family loaned many items connected to Evesham Abbey to the Almonry Museum, where they can still be seen today https://www.almonryevesham.org

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts, memories and further information are always welcome – scroll down to the foot of the page to comment.

It is getting a bit ‘backendish’ – as they say in Yorkshire – and the Folly Flâneuse is taking a short break. Meanwhile here are some of the wonderful landscape ornaments built by the Lyttelton family at Hagley Park, seen on a perfect autumn day as the leaves begin to turn bronze and gold, and the mist clears to reveal a blue sky.

For those who are not familiar with the delightful term ‘backendish’ it describes that period when we enter the last months of the year, and it suddenly becomes chilly and autumnal (thank you D for introducing the flâneuse to this word many years ago). Hands deep in pockets, the Folly Flâneuse soon warmed up on a brisk walk around the park.

Hagley Park moves to winter opening hours at the end of October. The park and cafe (very welcome at the end of a walk) are open 10-4, but check the website for details https://www.hagleypark.co.uk/

Thank you for reading. The Folly Flâneuse will be back with a folly story next week. Enjoy the seasonal colours.

The Round Tower, aka Guy’s Folly, stood on high ground to the west of what is now the A424 between Stow on the Wold and Burford. Sadly, this lovely little folly was demolished in the 1970s to make way for a B.B.C. transmission mast. Both Napoleon and Kitchener make an appearance in its rather hazy history…

In the first edition of Follies and Grottoes (1953) Barbara Jones wrote that the tower was built in 1805, although a descendant has stated that the tower was dated 1810. Maps show it was extant by 1815, but it is first named in 1824 when marked on Bryant’s map of Gloucestershire as ‘observatory’ and on Greenwoods’ map as ‘Guys Monument’. A few years later it was named on the 1st Series Ordnance Survey map as ‘Guys Tower’,  but on later maps it is called the ‘Round Tower’. The poor structure must have had a real identity crisis. To add to the confusion the tower also managed to stand in two counties at once…

By some historical quirk a small part of the parish of Icomb, in which the tower stands, was once in Worcestershire, although it was transferred to Gloucestershire in 1844. The tower was built straddling the the two counties, with the border apparently passing through the middle of the fireplace. This led to the peculiar circumstance, reported in the local paper in 1871, that within the tower it was possible to ‘boil your kettle in Gloucestershire and drink your tea in Worcestershire’. This sounds like another bit of folly fancifulness, but the earliest ordnance survey maps do indeed show the county boundary with the tower sitting astride.

The history of the tower is equally confusing, with Jones being informed that it was (a) a lookout tower in case of invasion by Napoleon’s forces (b) a watchtower where Farmer Guy could keep an eye on his workers and (c) the tower used by Kitchener to watch his troops on manoeuvres before the Boer War. What can be agreed upon is that the tower gave a ‘fine view’ of the surrounding countryside.

Actually, there may be some truth in all three tales. Local histories suggest that a Mr Guy built the tower to look out for French invaders: that there was a local gentleman farmer of this name is confirmed by a newspaper report of ‘Farmer Guy’ of Icomb exhibiting a magnificent ewe at Smithfield Market in 1822. This was John Guy (1773-1837), ‘rather an eccentric man’, who later settled near High Wycombe. He was buried in Hughendon churchyard, and his gravestone is featured in many a volume on unusual epitaphs:

In coffin made without a nail,
Without a shroud his limbs to hide;
For what can pomp or shew avail,
Or velvet pall to swell the pride;
Here lies John Guy beneath this sod,
Who lov’d his friends and fear’d his God.

He certainly sounds like a folly builder. Visitors later wrote of the ‘magnificent panorama which the spot commanded’, even if Napoloeon’s army never did march in to enliven the view.

As for the idea that Field Marshal His Excellency The Right Honourable The Earl Kitchener climbed the tower… his presence may be hyperbole, but in 1909 the British army did carry out large scale manoeuvres in the area, with one unit stationed near the folly.

By the second half of the century the tower was in use as a dwelling for farm labourers, and there was a detached kitchen and a garden. There was great excitement for the residents in June 1887 when a ‘flight of fireworks’ was launched from the roof, the highest spot in the area, to mark Queen Victoria’s golden jubilee. But by 1913 the tower was out of fashion, and a county history dismissed it as ‘a round tower in the sham Gothic taste of the early 19th century’. Its charm was also lessened by an unattractive coating of pebble-dash.

The Round House remained a home until sometime around the Second World War, but thereafter it stood empty, although photographs from 1966 show it in a fairly good condition.

Thereafter the tower began to decline quite rapidly, and in 1972 it was described as being ‘very dilapidated’ with a ‘large crack down the middle’. Although the owner, Icomb Proper Estates Ltd., did attempt to find a tenant willing to take on the tower, none was forthcoming.

It was initially suggested that the BBC might restore the tower, and place a mast on top, but this wasn’t to be. The Planning Committee and Parish Council, no doubt looking forward to an evening watching a less fuzzy episode of The Generation Game, raised no objections when the B.B.C. built a mast alongside the crumbling tower and then sought permission to demolish the tower.

Happily, the Royal Commission for Historic Monuments made a photographic record of the tower before it was taken down, and a basic archaeological investigation was carried out to look for evidence of iron age activity. None was found, although the site yielded clay pipes, china and glass from its years as a family home.

The BBC continues to transmit from Icomb Hill. The pylon may not be as beautiful as the tower, but it is useful.

Update September 2022: thanks to Mel Osmond for getting in touch to share this photo, taken when her grandmother lived in the tower.

Thank you for reading. Please scroll down to share any thoughts or comments on this post.

The Ruined Castle in the grounds of Hagley Hall, near Stourbridge in Worcestershire, was built by Sir Thomas Lyttleton (1685-1751) in 1747-48 as a feature to be visited, and seen as a prospect, on a walk around his park. His eldest son, George Lyttelton (1709-1773), was probably a driving influence, and together they created one of the most perfect sham ruins in Britain.

Designed by gentleman architect Sanderson Miller, the Castle takes the form of a ruin, with one intact tower and three others in varying stages of decay. Originally, loose blocks of stone were placed artfully around the building to appear as if they had just tumbled down from the ruin. Horace Walpole, not always easy to please, famously found the castle a convincing sham, declaring it had the ‘true rust of the barons’ wars’.

From its inception the Castle was designed to have a practical purpose as well as an aesthetic one. At the top of the main tower there was an elegant room where visitors could take tea. The windows were filled with painted glass and specially-commissioned ‘Gothick’ chairs were designed to complement the architecture. There was also a telescope to admire the prospect. The rest of the building provided a home for the Keeper, and the three ruined towers became a Cow House, Coal House and Poultry House.

Intriguingly, in 1697 Sir Charles Lyttleton (1629-1716), a man who employed an interesting phonetic approach to spelling, wrote to a friend to announce that ‘I phancy a Tower wth Battlements’. His tower was built that same year on high ground in the park, and was used as a place where he could rest on his daily walk, as well as being a lodge for the Keeper. Half a century later, his son and grandson followed his lead and created the castle we see today, presumably sweeping away any remains of the earlier building.

Over the centuries the Castle continued to have a practical purpose, and as the craze for sham ruins waned its principal role became that of an extremely sophisticated shed. This can be seen in this mid-20th century view by Lyndon Goodwin Harris. Harris, RI, RWA, RSW (1928-2006) was born in Halesowen to an amateur artist father whom accounts paint as a domineering man. Sidney Harris collected the works of Albert Goodwin (1845-1932), and such was his admiration for the artist that he gave his son ‘Goodwin’ as a middle name. Harris senior pushed his son into practicing art from a young age, and whether he worked under duress or not, the boy clearly had talent. In 1942, when barely into his teens, his father suggested they ‘try their luck’ at submitting one of his works to the Royal Academy Summer Show. The work was accepted, and ‘Midland Boy Artist, 13, Has Picture In Academy’ was the boast in the local papers.

Harris’s view of the castle at Hagley, which was just a few miles from Halesowen, was painted four years later in 1946. At that date Harris was planning his future, and considering his love of painting buildings, it is not a surprise to learn that he considered a career as an architect, and was awarded a valuable Leverhulme scholarship to attend the Architectural Association School of Architecture. But instead he continued to train as an artist, and took up a scholarship at the Slade School of Art.

Harris produced many works featuring local scenes, including these two views of Halesowen Abbey, a genuine ancient ruin, which by the middle of the 20th century was somewhat swamped by a farm. Ironically, its poor condition may in part be because, according to tradition, masonry was purloined for incorporation into the fake ruin at Hagley. A 19th century account claims that windows from the mediaeval abbey were incorporated into the curtain walls of Lyttelton’s Ruined Castle. In 1750 the poet and gardener William Shenstone tried to beg a couple of Halesowen Abbey’s windows to ‘terminate ye Vista’ in his wood at The Leasowes, just outside Halesowen. There’s no evidence that Shenstone’s wishes were met, but he did incorporate mediaeval fragments into a mock ruined priory (now lost) which he added to his park in 1757.

Although talented, painting does not seem to have made Harris happy, and he is believed to have given up painting after his father died in 1971. He became increasingly reclusive and lived quietly in the family home until 2006. After his death his father’s valuable collection was ‘discovered’ in the house, and the local paper was able to trot out the usual phrases: ‘forgotten art stash’, ’treasure trove’, ‘eccentric bachelor’ and ‘astonished family’.

The history of the Ruined Castle at Hagley included here is entirely based on the work of The Garden Historian, aka Michael Cousins, and The Folly Flâneuse thanks him for generously sharing his research (including the new discovery that there was an earlier castle building). His full account of Hagley was published by The Gardens Trust (formerly the Garden History Society) and you can find out more here https://www.jstor.org/stable/40219948?seq=1

Lyndon Goodwin Harris deserves to be better known, and the Folly Flâneuse is grateful to Neil Jennings for introducing her to his work. Neil Jennings Fine Art has a number of works by Harris available. Contact neiljennings20@gmail.com

Hagley Hall hosts weddings and functions and there is a programme of events, including house tours. Visit the website for further details https://www.hagleyhall.com

If you have any thoughts or questions please scroll down to find the comments box. Thanks for reading and if you’d like a story like this in your inbox every Saturday please consider subscribing.

James Wyatt produced plans for a ‘Saxon Hexagon Tower’ for the 6th Earl of Coventry in the last years of the 18th century. After his death in 1809 it was sold and over the following centuries it became the home of a printing workshop, a retreat for members of the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and a farmhouse. In 1974 it became the centrepiece of a country park, and it remains so today.

Of course nothing you have read above is news. Broadway tower is one of the best loved follies in Britain, having appeared in countless films and tv programmes. The very flexible tower has even featured in a recent advertisement for property developer Aldermore.

The reason The Folly Flâneuse is featuring it here is because without this tower there would not be the book that is by every folly-spotters side: Follies, Grottoes & Garden Buildings.

Broadway Tower captured Gwyn Headley’s imagination as a child and he remained passionate about the subject, first publishing a book about follies in 1986 with Dutchman Wim Meulenkamp as co-author. In FG&GB they updated their original research and presented it in a gazetteer format, so that the book is fabulously user-friendly. 2019 sees the twentieth anniversary of its publication, and The Folly Flâneuse thinks this is a cause for celebration. Cheers!

Gwyn is shown above, aged 5,  looking loathe to leave Broadway Tower. Wim’s introduction to the genre came aged 13 when he was intrigued by the sham wooden bridge at Kenwood, near London.

When studying at Utrecht University in the 1970s, Wim took a module on the English landscape park and headed to the library to write a paper on Rousham. On the shelves he discovered Barbara Jones’s Follies and Grottoes and he too was hooked.

His doctoral subject was Mad Jack Fuller, creator of these wonderful follies at Brightling in Sussex, and he recalls that ‘whilst everyone else did their postgraduate theses on colour schemes in Siennese painting 1535-1560, and the like, we actually had inordinate fun.’

A mere two decades later Gwyn Headley and Wim Meulenkamp are working on a new book – good things come to those who wait. In the meantime, you can hear Gwyn and Wim talk at an event organised by The Folly Fellowship in London this autumn. Final details are to be confirmed but keep checking the website for details http://follies.org.uk/index.php/this-year/

More on the Broadway Tower here https://broadwaytower.co.uk

The sham bridge at Kenwood has just emerged from restoration https://www.hamhigh.co.uk/news/environment/kenwood-house-sham-bridge-restoration-almost-finished-1-5874808

Ed Kluz, who kindly shared his photos of Brightling is an internationally acclaimed artist whose work often features follies. Visit his website or follow him on instagram @edkluz https://www.edkluz.co.uk. He will reappear in these pages before too long.