Although vandals in earlier centuries may not have been armed with marker pens and aerosol sprays, they were still keen to leave their mark. Follies and garden buildings, often in remote locations, seem to have been particularly attractive targets. Many seemed to think this activity was perfectly acceptable and used their pencil or pocket knife to leave their full name, clearly identifying themselves as the culprits. Owners tried various tactics to deter the scribblers.
Some erected polite notices, requesting that visitors refrained from defacing their garden and landscape features. As early as 1751, the tower known as Hartshead Pike in Lancashire carried a stone plaque poetically requesting that visitors refrain from lobbing stones at the structure:
An account of Hagley in Worcestershire noted graffiti on the alcove seat (by the time the description was published in 1762 the alcove was being converted into the Palladian Bridge which stands today). The writer thought it a pity that ‘that neither gratitude or Good-Manners can prevail with some People; for here and elsewhere, notwithstanding his Lordship’s Request to the contrary, are many Scribblings on the Wall, which give offence to Decency’ (thanks to the Garden Historian for sharing this snippet).
In 1825 the 4th Duke of Newcastle was ‘much annoyed’ to discover that shells had been broken from the walls of the new grotto he was building at Clumber Park in Nottinghamshire, and a few years later he was ‘much shocked’ to find insulting graffiti in his Stone Temple by the side of the lake.
At Stanway House, in Gloucestershire, visitors seem to have been a relatively well-behaved bunch and a simple painted sign in the Pyramid of 1750 (title image) seems to have deterred the worst of the offenders.
At the shelter built for those walking across the moorland called Hampsfell in Lancashire (now Cumbria) a sign implored that visitors ‘do no mischief’.
When this didn’t work, the owner put up some blank boards and asked people to sign their names there. But ‘wanton mischief’ continued:
At Swanage in Dorset, that great collector of architectural salvage, George Burt, got fed up of what one writer in 1922 called ‘the passion of Dick, Tom and Harry […] for inscribing their names upon every prominent object’. He provided two blank stone tablets engraved with the message ‘Persons anxious to write their names will please do so on this stone only’. Dick, Tom and Harry might have been disappointed to learn that they were not leaving their mark in perpetuity, for Burt apparently had the stones scrubbed and whitewashed over at regular intervals ready for the next set of tourists.
The owners of a pretty rustic summerhouse near Braemar in the Highlands, pinned-up a polite request, again in verse form, asking visitors to refrain from leaving graffiti:
But when the Flâneuse visited a few years ago one family had not only ignored the sign, but had been making annual trips to update their crude biro scrawls, recording their wedding and the birth of grandchildren. The Flâneuse would like to have named and shamed, but fears that that the family in question would enjoy the attention.
Thank you for reading. Your polite scribblings are most welcome – you can find the comments box at the foot of the page to share any thoughts.
