In the early 1860s it was proposed that a monument should be erected to William Tyndale, the man who in 1526 produced the first printed edition of the New Testament in English. His aim was that it could be read by everyday people in their own tongue. This was forbidden by the Church, and Tyndale was executed for heresy in 1536. The foundation stone of his monument was laid in May 1863 and ever since the monument has been a landmark for travellers on Gloucestershire’s quiet byroads or, more recently, the swarming lanes of the M5 motorway.

The residents of North Nibley believed that Tyndale was born in their village in around 1484, and that the monument should be built on the hill called Nibley Knoll which overlooked the settlement. But others steadfastly maintained that Tyndale should be commemorated on nearby Stinchcombe Hill, which location also claimed links to the Tyndale family. Whilst the dispute continued, subscriptions to the fund to finance the tower were slow to arrive, with both sides encouraging their supporters not to contribute until the site was finalised in their favour.

In 1861 it was suggested that the ‘division of feeling’ might render the project ‘tame and impotent’. But eventually it was agreed that the monument would be built on Nibley Knoll, and the organisers were confident that subscriptions would then ‘flow in’. This wasn’t to be, and when the foundation stone was laid in May 1863 there was still only £800 of the required £1,500 in the bank.

The ceremony to lay the foundation stone was carried out with great pomp, with bands accompanying the dignitaries up to the tower and the local paper reckoning that a crowd of 10,000 was present. There were hymns, psalms, prayers, speeches and votes of thanks and the Hon. F.W.F. Berkeley M.P. laid the foundation stone with the obligatory commemorative silver trowel.

A ‘leaden box’ containing a bible and a scroll in a bottle was originally laid in a recesss below the foundation stone, but as the tower began to gain height the work was found to be unsatisfactory, and it was pulled down and rebuilt. The current whereabouts of that bible are unknown, but Wotton-under-Edge museum has copies of the bibles presented to the men who built the tower.

The architect appointed to design the monument, in the form of a prospect tower, was Samuel Sanders Teulon of London. This was presumably on Lord Ducie’s recommendation, as Teulon had designed his new home, Tortworth Court, a few years previously. The contractor was Mr Jackson of Uley, and Dr Antonio Salviati of Venice was commissioned to create a ‘large mosaic cross’ as the finial.

In November 1866 Lord Ducie performed the inauguration of the monument, and there was a final appeal for donations to clear the remaining shortfall of £300. The finished tower stands 111 feet high, excluding the cross, and a roundel above the door carries the inscription:

ERECTED A.D. 1866
IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF
WILLIAM TYNDALE
TRANSLATOR OF THE ENGLISH BIBLE
WHO FIRST CAUSED THE NEW TESTAMENT
TO BE PRINTED IN THE MOTHER TONGUE
OF HIS COUNTRYMEN
BORN NEAR THIS SPOT HE SUFFERED
MARTYRDOM AT VILVORDE IN
FLANDERS ON OCT 6TH 1536

The monument became a popular destination for ramblers and picknickers who could admire the vast panorama over the Bristol Channel into Wales. In the 1930s one visitor wrote that the garage proprietor in North Nibley kept the ‘great nine-inch key to this stone column, and for threepence he will let you have the loan of it’. Although not impressed by the design, the writer Malachi Whitaker walked up to the ‘grim-looking monument, commemorating Tyndale, the man who did something to the Bible, which I have ungratefully forgotten’ and admired the prospect of hills and valleys and a ‘perfect evening sky’.

Barbara Jones, never one to repress her true thoughts, called the monument ‘an unspeakably ugly sleazily tapering stone tower’ (Follies & Grottoes, 1974). The Flâneuse rather likes it, and it was worth the steep and muddy climb to the plateau on which the tower stands on a wild and windy day.

There’s not space here to go into the life and work of William Tyndale, but there’s an excellent account on the North Nibley website if you would like to know more. The website also has directions to the monument, which is only accessible on foot. The door is open and you can climb to the top to appreciate the view.

If you visit the tower (grade II*) don’t miss the opportunity to visit the lovely little Wotton-under-Edge Heritage Centre. As well as a fascinating local history collection there are currently displays featuring Isaac Pitman (1813-1897), who invented shorthand in the town, and poet and writer Sophie Gaudier-Brzeska (1872-1925), who lived in the town for a few years from 1916.

As it was a dull January day when the Flâneuse visited the monument, here is Sophie Gaudier-Brzeska’s Landscape with Houses and Sun to bring a little cheer.

There are plans to celebrate the quincentenary of Tyndale’s achievement (1526-2026) and you can read more on the Tyndale Society website.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts are always welcome – simply scroll down to the foot of the page to find the comments box.

In 1836 General Loft, a committed church-crawler, visited Fotherby, near Louth in Lincolnshire, and found the ancient fabric of the church of St Mary’s ‘now terribly mutilated’. In the later 1850s a major rebuild was proposed, and the Bishop of Lincoln threw his weight behind the appeal with a donation of £20. James Robson, tenant and later owner of Brackenborough Hall, an attractive moated Georgian house about a mile from the church, was also a donor. As work got underway, he salvaged some of the stone from the old church and used it to build a sham ruin on a mound in the corner of his garden.

James Fowler of Louth was chosen as architect for the new church at Fotherby, and with funds in place it was agreed that work could begin in 1861. The crumbling old church was pulled down and, after a period of worshipping in nearby barns and meeting rooms, the congregation assembled in the new church in May 1863. Fowler was congratulated on the ‘imposing appearance of the edifice’.

At Brackenborough the folly was built on a mound in the corner of the moated enclosure that surrounds the garden. It was probably built contemporaneously with the new church at Fotherby, in the first years of the 1860s, but no records seem to survive to confirm an exact date. Robson (1820-1899) was a churchwarden and contributed to the cost of the new church, but no records of him acquiring the stone have yet been found. The folly no doubt functioned as a belvedere, summerhouse and eye-catcher, and in what was described in 1887 as ‘fine hunting country’ it may also have been a landmark for the hunt. When first built the south elevation was higher than the other sides and incorporated further recycled masonry, as seen in this 1907 view. No architect is associated with the folly: Fowler may have given advice, or it may have been Robson’s own design.

Brackenborough stands in an elevated position (relatively, in the flatlands of Lincolnshire), and before the plantations matured the view from the folly would have taken in local churches: there is still a vista to the elegant parish church of St James in Louth, with its spire said to be the highest of any parish church in Britain (the church was restored by Fowler in the 1760s).

Robson was declared bankrupt in 1887, after a collapse in the prices of agricultural produce, and the estate was put up for sale. Frustratingly, the sales particulars for the auction of the estate that year make no mention of the folly, although it was certainly extant a year later when the 25″ Ordnance Survey map was surveyed (published 1889) and the square tower is shown on its mound. The earliest written description found to date is in the sales particulars when the estate was again put up for auction in 1907. The folly was then noted as a ‘picturesque keep erected from stones from an old Ecclesiastical house’ (with house used in the sense of a church, or house of god). The estate was purchased by Frederick W. Bennett, whose family remain at Brackenborough today.

In the first edition of the Buildings of England: Lincolnshire, published in 1964, John Harris described the garden ornament as a ‘felicitous folly concocted from the remains of Fotherby church’ (for the Lincolnshire volume Nikolaus Pevsner concentrated mainly on churches and left secular buildings to Harris). Harris identified the fragments incorporated into the little tower as a thirteenth century arch, a three light Perpendicular window and a Decorated window ‘all built into a rugged ruin’. Photographs taken by Harris in 1959 during his research (Historic England collection) are similar to that shown above, and show that the south elevation was largely intact at that date.

The folly was ‘toppling precariously’ by the time Barbara Jones saw it in around 1970. The building was listed at grade II in 1986, by which time the upper section of the south elevation must have collapsed and it is not mentioned in the description. For years afterwards the folly was smothered in ivy and brambles and a large sycamore had taken root within the structure: it had become what Jones called a ‘ruinous sham ruin’ (Follies & Grottoes, 1974).

In 2015 Paul and Flora Bennett commissioned a structural survey from Capstone Consulting Engineers which concluded that the options were to repair and consolidate the folly as a ruin, or to repair and restore the folly creating a more ‘robust structure’. In 2020, after discussions at local and national levels, the Bennetts were given listed building consent to dismantle and reconstruct the badly listing folly under the supervision of Historic Building Consultant Liz Mayle.

The folly was dismantled, the stones numbered, and the folly rebuilt on secure foundations with new oak lintels and steel ties to support the structure. Flora even trawled the moat in search of stones that had toppled from the folly. In 2023 the restoration was recognised by a Pride of Place award from Louth Civic Trust.

Brackenborough Hall is a private residence, but the folly can be seen from a public footpath through the park. Or you could celebrate your wedding there, with the folly as a backdrop to your photographs, or stay in one of the holiday lets on the estate (which include an apartment featuring both the workings of the Coach House clock and a grain winch). To find out more visit brackenboroughhall.com.

Thanks to Steffie S. for alerting the Flâneuse to the restored folly, and to Paul, Flora and Poppy the exuberant labrador for a tour and a welcome coffee on a frosty morning.

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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 1807 the 9th earl of Winchelsea built a rustic retreat deep in woodland in his park at Burley-on-the-Hill. The building was known as ‘The Hermitage’, and soon became the subject of tales which were somewhat fanciful, even in the fantastical world of follies.

George Finch (1752-1826) succeeded his uncle as the 9th Earl of Winchelsea in 1769. The Burley-on-the-Hill estate that he inherited included the elegant mansion on its hilltop site, a building which will be familiar to anyone who has driven near Oakham in Rutland.

The parkland was home to a vast wood, cut through with straight rides in a star shape by a previous generation. In one of the segments of the woodland Finch built a summerhouse in the form of a hermit’s abode. The floor was a mosaic of pebbles and the knucklebones of sheep, and featured a ‘W’ for Winchelsea and the date 1807, which is assumed to be the date of construction.

In 1858 a local newspaper described the Hermitage as ‘an object of interest and amusement’ and encouraged readers to walk the ‘narrow and meandering’ path through the woods to find the rustic cottage, which was built almost entirely of wood except for a huge chimney built of rough stones. There were two rooms – a bedroom with wooden bed and straw mattress covered with sacking, and a front parlour. The centrepiece of this room was a ‘huge block of wood’ which served as a table. The table was by that date already covered in graffiti, as the many visitors had carved their names or initials into the surface. Despite this vandalism, the Hermitage remained ‘constantly open for inspection’.

The same account introduces the first ‘history’ of the building. In brief, a man wanted by debt-collectors went into hiding in Burley Woods (he is not named in the report but locally he is remembered as a Mr Booth or a Mr Bennett). Being ‘sufficiently versed in construction’, he built the ‘humble tabernacle’ and only ventured out occasionally for provisions. Eventually, the bailiff found his secret hideout and tried to take him into custody, but the fugitive locked the bailiff in the hermitage and ran for it. The bailiff, being a stout man, was allegedly stuck in the cottage for days until rescuers found him, much to the amusement of the locals.

An alternative version of the tale has the lurid twist that the fugitive was in fact a murderer. To atone for his crime he sequestered himself in the woods and lived as a hermit, bound by oath not to speak to his fellow men. A short distance from the Hermitage was a smaller rustic shelter called Soloman’s Hut, and according to the legend this is where food was left for the hermit to collect.

Still more diabolical is the history recounted in 1911, which has an ancestor of the Finch family selling his soul to the devil. When Satan tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to keep his word, a deal was struck that the bond would be broken when a Finch had spent 7 years in solitary confinement in the Hermitage. Until this was accomplished the devil would retain his hold over the family. The report concluded that ‘within living memory’ one member of the family had managed two years of isolation before he ‘lost his reason’. Clearly the writer didn’t believe a word of the nonsense he was feeding to his readers, and he concludes with the anti-climactic ‘At any rate, it is a fact that there is at Burley to this day a Hermit’s cell’.

Barbara Jones described the Hermitage in the first edition of Follies and Grottoes in 1953. She thought it a ‘magnificent example’ of the hermitage genre of landscape buildings, and was amazed to find the interior intact. The furnishings included ‘three triangular stools of remarkable rustic discomfort’, and the vast table was still in situ. Her wonderful sketch shows just how intricate the fan-vaulted ceiling was, with branches for the ribs and huge elm bosses.

The Hermitage was visited by architect Neville Hawkes (1910-1988) in 1955 and his photograph shows that by that date the building was looking a little shabby and protected by a barbed-wire fence. Hawkes was probably accompanied on that visit by his son, William (1939-2024), and a year later William and a schoolmate returned to explore the building. Their status as pupils at the local public school of Uppingham gained them permission to visit the Hermitage, and for future historians this would be one of the best decisions the estate office ever made. Young Will, later to train as an architect, recorded the floorpan of the building in a lovely sketch.

Only six years after Will Hawkes visited, the Hermitage was set alight. On Thursday 5 July 1962 the Oakham firemen fought to save the structure, but it was totally destroyed (N.B. Barbara Jones gives the date 1965 which she was given in error by the estate office). A police investigation was launched, but it is unclear if the perpetrators were ever found and the blame is generally pinned on ‘schoolchildren’. The demise of the Hermitage caused great sorrow to an anonymous correspondent with the local paper. The writer remembered picknicking there with ‘the late Squire Finch’ and wished everyone to know that the ‘story of the Burley hermit is a myth’.

Today only a handful of photographs and sketches of the Hermitage survive to record its history, although visitors to the Rutland County Museum might see a miniature model of the building. It was made by local resident William H. Sewell, aka Billy Bennett (1912-1985). The exact date of the model is not known, but it shows the building much as Neville Hawkes saw it in 1955, with the chimney partially collapsed.

The Burley-on-the-Hill estate descended to the Hanbury family, and by the middle of the twentieth century the woods had been closed to the public (there’s an interlude when the estate is owned by the later-disgraced entrepreneur Asil Nadir that needs only the briefest of mentions here). The house was converted into houses by Kit Martin in the 1990s, but the parkland remains with the Hanburys who are currently planning to create an ‘immersive visitor attraction’ called Wild Rutland. Perhaps the Hermitage could be recreated – what could be more wild than a solitary hermit’s cottage?

The Rutland County Museum has a fascinating collection, although please note that the model of the hermitage is not currently on display. Visit before 4 October 2025 to see an exhibition of the works of the artist Rev J.L. Petit (1801-1868) of which the highlight for the present writer was, of course, this view of the folly known as Old John in Bradgate Park in Leicestershire.

Thank you for reading. As ever, your thoughts are very welcome. Please scroll down to find the comments box.

Early in the nineteenth century, Samuel Russell Collett moved to a farming estate at Swinethorpe in Lincolnshire. There he constructed a ‘romantic seat’, in the form of a sham castle, which by 1824 was known by the curious name of ‘The Jungle’.

The reason why Collett decided to build a house in this form seems to be long forgotten, and it is not known if he used an architect or designed it himself. Lucinda Lambton names Thomas Lovely as the builder, and he was presumably the Lincolnshire bricklayer by that name: The Jungle is built out of over-baked bricks (ones that have been in the kiln for too long and become dark, glassy and misshapen in appearance). But building the facade must have been quite a novel experience for Lovely, as the bricks are not laid conventionally, but are a haphazard jumble that creates a most unusual texture and appearance.

Initially Jones struggled to find the history of the building: ‘it has no history’ she noted, and all the information she could garner was that ‘a man built it’. Eventually, she was shown a manuscript account of The Jungle written by Major General John Henry Loft, a Lincolnshire M.P. and antiquarian soon after the house was built. He noted his observations, mainly of ecclesiastical subjects, as he travelled around the county, and happily for history they had survived.

In 1826 Loft diverted from church-crawling to visit Collett at his ‘very singular but tasty and handsome Residence’. He described the house as being ‘composed of over burnt Bricks’ built up in a rough state in ‘the manner of a Castle’ with a ‘grotesque but not inelegant appearance’. Around the house were gardens with ornamental trees amongst which different kinds of deer, several ‘very fine Kangaroos’ and a male and female buffalo with a calf wandered freely. Golden pheasants had their own enclosure, and gold and silver fish swam in the pond. In the house Loft admired ‘many good Apartments’, but he didn’t elaborate further.

Three years later a ‘liberal reward’ was offered for information on the ‘strangers’ who were suspected of stealing from The Jungle. Their haul comprised of ‘nine golden pheasants (viz. six cocks and three hens), a mongoose, some fancy rabbits and two storks’. The felons were soon apprehended, but the fate of the creatures is not recorded.

It is assumed that this menagerie gave the house its name of ‘The Jungle’, which first appears in print around 1824, Collett having previously being described as ‘of Swinethorpe’. And is it coincidence or nominative determinism that The Jungle stands near the village of Eagle? This remains one of follydoms great mysteries.

Collett died in 1850, and his wife continued at The Jungle until her death in 1854. The house was then let by Collet’s heir, and by 1899 was home to the Bingham family. The Jungle was a welcome sight to touring cyclists, as for many years Mrs Bingham offered teas and accommodation. By this date the building’s history was forgotten, and an 1890 guide described it simply as an ‘old house’ that was ‘very picturesque’.

Barbara Jones visited in the early 1950s when researching for the first edition of Follies & Grottoes, published in 1953. She described the ‘fanged and snarling facade’ which fronted the ‘plain farmhouse’ and sketched the strange structure.

In the 1960s Audrey Houlston, whose husband was a Lincolnshire potato farmer, was out riding and spotted the house. It was love at first sight, and the Houlstons bought the ‘dairy and arable farm’ with 150 acres at auction in 1964 for £22,700. When asked about its appeal, Dennis Houlston explained that they liked the fact that the house was so unusual and ‘the only one of its kind’. The Houlston’s added a modern house, of a ‘clean rectilinear design’ behind the folly facade, and reassured the locals that they had no intention of having a menagerie in their grounds.

When The Jungle was offered for sale in 2000, the picturesque property understandably caught the eye of newspaper editors with property pages to fill. The Daily Telegraph gave the ‘bizarre, elfin-gothic castle’ a double-page spread, and thought that with an asking price of £500,000 the ‘quaint folly’ was both a ‘bargain and an opportunity’.

The Jungle remains a rather special family home, and can only be glimpsed from the road. The folly facade is listed at grade II*.

Thank you for reading. The comments box is in its usual position at the foot of the page if you wish to share any thoughts or further information.

In December 1888, a ‘good property of modest pretensions’, with about 30 acres, was offered for sale near Hythe, on the Hampshire coast. Forest Lodge was marketed as a ‘most enjoyable residence for a yachtsman’ and was purchased as a country base by John Beach Fleuret, a London auctioneer and noted sailor. Fleuret immediately set to work remodelling the house and ornamenting the grounds. The major feature was a lake with a boathouse and bridge, both in a Chinese style. The only reminder today is a couple of blurry, but invaluable, photographs.

Fleuret (1840-1904) was active in local affairs and frequently opened his garden for public events. In 1902 he engaged the ‘celebrated pyrotechnists’ Brock & Co. to give a grand firework display to celebrate the Coronation of King Edward VII. Ordnance Survey maps confirm that the existing ‘fish pond’ was enlarged, and the bridge and boathouse were constructed, during Fleuret’s ownership of the estate.

The ‘pagoda’ was extant by 1904, but little else is known about Fleuret’s landscaping works. What we do know is that Fleuret started his working life at sea, having been ‘possessed of a burning desire to be a sailor’. He quickly moved up the ranks and remained at sea for seven years. For two years he served on a transport ship ‘on the China and Indian seas’ during the war with China, and thus participated in ‘many stirring scenes’. We can only wonder what he saw as a young man that influenced his decision to add Chinoiserie ornaments to his garden many years later.

Back on dry land Fleuret trained as an auctioneer, building a business of ‘gigantic proportions’, and his sailing was restricted to the more leisurely variety on the Solent, or Thames. Fleuret died in December 1904, and there was a flurry of excitement the following year when the contents of his will were announced. He was lauded in the press for his skill as a yachtsman, but of most interest to the newspapers was the story that he had bequeathed his dogs and parrot, together with a sum for their maintenance, to one Maria Campion Poole. Leaving no stone unturned, the Flâneuse tried to identify this lady: she appears to have been a solicitor’s wife from Erith in Kent.

A county history of 1908 mentions the ‘Chinese pagoda and bridge’ in the beautiful grounds of Forest Lodge, and also an observatory with a fine view over Southampton Water. By this date Forest Lodge was leased (by the late Fleuret’s trustees) to Alexander Baring (1848-1932), who had been looking for a ‘suitable country place’. In his memoirs Baring records that Fleuret had ‘practically rebuilt the place’ and, having added substantial parcels of land to the estate, had made it ‘one of the most beautiful and valuable small places in the South of England’. When Baring was not out sailing in his new yacht, he could play golf on the 9 hole course within the grounds. Sadly, Baring fails to mention the garden buildings.

The 1911 edition of Kelly’s Directory of Hampshire and the Isle of Wight suggests that the Chinese pagoda was ‘used as a dining room’, and also mentions a Chinese bridge and boathouse – but photographic and cartographic evidence suggests that the pagoda and boathouse were one and the same, with a banqueting room above, and space for the boat below.

Forest Lodge was sold by Fleuret’s trustees in 1950. The sales particulars described the ‘charming wooded grounds and lake’, by now extending to some 100 acres, but the garden buildings are not mentioned – probably because by this date they were decaying rapidly.

According to Barbara Jones, writing in Follies & Grottoes (1974), the boathouse was an ‘utterly derelict pavilion’ which was sinking into marshy ground on what was by then a farm. Nothing is known of the observatory, although it was probably the octagonal building which is shown on the 1909 25″ OS map. Jones wrote that it was demolished during the First World War (presumably it was a landmark for enemy planes), and this is backed up by map evidence: the building had disappeared by the time the revised OS map was published in 1932.

At pretty much the same date as Fleuret was erecting his Chinese-inspired features at Forest Lodge, the Scottish architect Robert Weir Schultz was working on a Chinese Bridge for the Earl of Bute at Dumfries House in Ayrshire. In 1899 he submitted this drawing of a bridge, although there is no evidence that it was ever built.

Inspired by the earlier design, a new bridge over the Lugar Water was opened at Dumfries House in 2017. It was erected to a design by Keith Ross in collaboration with the Duke of Rothesay, the title used by the then Prince of Wales (now King Charles III) when in Scotland. You can read more about the bridge here.

With apologies for the poor images of the lost structures – they fall into the category ‘better than nothing’ as they seem to be the best that survive.

Thank you for reading. You can scroll down to the comments box at the foot of the page to share any thoughts, and do please get in touch if you can add any further information.

Sir Richard Worsley inherited his father’s baronetcy, and the Appuldurcombe estate on the Isle of Wight, in 1768. The following year set off on the Grand Tour, and on his return in 1770 he turned his attention to remodelling the house and park. In the next few years he erected two eye-catchers to be seen from the mansion: an obelisk and a dramatic hilltop sham ruin called Cook’s Castle.

The origin of the name Cook’s Castle is uncertain, but it is named as such on a 1773 estate plan. In the eighteenth century there was no good road to the folly, and in 1793 Henry Penruddocke Wyndham was frustrated by the effort that was required to reach the ruins. He concluded that the sham castle did not ‘deserve such exertions’, as the building was too ‘regular’, that is it was too neat to be a genuine ruin. His mistake seems to have been to view the folly at close quarters: Sir Richard Worsley (1751-1805) himself described the sham in his History of the Isle of Wight, published in 1781, and makes it clear that the ‘ruin of an ancient castle’ was intended as ‘a point of view from the house’. Maps from the middle of the nineteenth century also show it as a series of three towers connected by a curtain wall, but as an engraving from the same period illustrates, the central tower had by then collapsed.

Visitors who looked to the folly from the mansion were impressed, and even the oft-critical commentator on landscape Revd William Gilpin found much to praise. He described Appuldurcombe House as ‘magnificent’, and thought the grounds equally impressive. Cook’s Castle was, he wrote, ‘well executed and […] well placed’. A traveller in 1798 noted the ‘modern ruin’, and thought it had a ‘better effect from the house than is usual for such buildings to have’.

A century later, with improved roads and the coming of the railway, Cook’s Castle and its ‘picturesque grounds’ had become a favourite picnic spot for excursionists and society outings. Few were fooled by the supposed ancient ruin, and John Gwilliam expressed his feelings in verse in 1845:

There was of course a downside to the popularity of the spot, which was featured in countless guidebooks, and by 1887 there were concerns that the folly was being damaged by vandals. The sham ruin quickly became a genuine one, and by the middle of the twentieth century there was nothing at all to be seen. Only a stone now marks the approximate spot where Cook’s Castle once stood.

Sir Richard also erected a ‘Cornish granite obelisk, near seventy feet high’ to the memory of Sir Robert Worsley 4th bart, who died in 1747 (the fourth baronet died without issue and the Appuldurcombe estate was left to a cousin who was Sir Richard’s grandfather). Built on a ‘bare down’, the obelisk was completed in 1774 and commemorated Sir Robert’s ‘long and exemplary life’, and Sir Richard’s gratitude that he had succeeded to the estate.

The monument was visible from miles around, but this exposed spot made it vulnerable to the elements. Having been repaired after a lightning strike in 1831, it was ‘blown down’ in a gale in December 1836.

The lower stages of the obelisk were restored in 1983, resulting in a stubby little monument, which is no longer a great landmark and eye-catcher…

The only major landscape ornament to survive at Appuldurcombe today is the elegant Freemantle Gate (grade II*), described in c.1779 as a ‘handsome Gateway of the Ionic Order’.

It is not clear who designed the obelisk and folly castle, but the antiquarian Sir Richard is likely to have played a part. A possible candidate is William Donn, who worked for Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown before setting up on his own: he was paid almost £4,000 for work at Appuldurcombe between 1774 and 1782. Donn was crossing to the Isle of Wight in 1777 and chatted to a fellow traveller. The tourist noted in his journal that Donn was working for Sir Richard, and described him as being ’employed in undertaking to build Houses and to lay out Gardens for Gentlemen’ (thanks to the Garden Historian for this brilliant reference).

Capability Brown himself did visit Appuldurcombe in October 1779, and sent a plan for improvements the following summer. Sadly Sir Richard’s accounts of work on the house and park are not known to survive, so many questions about who did what, and when, remain unanswered, but the sham castle and obelisk pre-date Brown’s plan.

Appuldurcombe House (grade I) is in the care of English Heritage and can be visited in the summer season. It was a roofless shell for many years but has been partially restored as a wedding venue. There’s more here.

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In the first half of the 1760s Thomas Farr, a Bristol merchant, bought land at Henbury near Bristol, which included the prominent eminence called ‘Blaize Hill’. In 1766 he commissioned designs from the architect Robert Mylne for a sham castle eye-catcher to top the hill.

Early Bristol historians describe the hill as the site of a Roman camp, and Farr was said to have dug up ‘great quantities’ of coins when the foundations for the castle were made. It was also said to have housed an ancient chapel, and more recently had been home to a summerhouse approached by a formal double-avenue. Farr (1732-1791), a ‘person of exquisite taste’, followed fashion and abandoned this straight approach, creating instead meandering serpentine walks and rides which wound through woodland up to the fine new gothic folly.

A single drawing by Robert Mylne (1733-1811) is known to survive, and as it is annotated ‘no.3’ it is assumed that Mylne provided several variant designs. The castle had offices at ground level where the servants could prepare food, and three rooms on the first floor for socialising. The principal circular room was 25 feet in diameter and ‘very highly finished in the Gothic stile’. Stairs in one of the smaller turrets led to the roof, where the views took in ‘many miles’ of the River Severn and the Bristol Channel, as well as a prospect over the surrounding counties and across to Wales. Contemporary sources suggest that Farr would watch his ships arriving in Bristol from the top of his ‘Summer or Pleasure House’, and it was also an eye-catcher, announcing Farr’s elevated status to all who saw it.

Farr’s ambitions for his estate were foiled by bankruptcy in 1778, and he sold the estate to one Dr Denham Skeet. The poet Edward Davies was a guest of Skeet and recorded his visit in verse. This was published in 1783 as Blaise Castle: A Prospective Poem, and he includes a rather disturbing description of the effort required to ascend the footpath to the folly:

The fat and lazy would ne’er reach the Top.
Were there not Seats prepared for them to stop,
And breath [sic], while they their reeking Foreheads mop.
But after various Perils, Stops and Pain,
With trembling Knees, we reach the Castle Plain,
And panting view the Horizon again.

The artist Samuel Hieronymous Grimm visited a few years later (it is not recorded if he walked the tortuous footpath or opted for a sedate carriage ride) and took a number of views of the folly. His sketches show that the door was originally flanked by a pair of sphinx statues, which are sadly no longer in situ.

In 1789 the estate was bought by the Harford family. They built a new mansion, and invited Humphry Repton to remodel the grounds: he suggested raising one of the turrets of the castle to give it a more interesting silhouette, but his advice was not taken.  Tourists were allowed to explore the walks through the woods to the folly, although there were restrictions: one early nineteenth century visitor was unable to persuade (bribe?) the ‘churlish porter’ to allow access on a Sunday.

Blaise Castle (the folly soon gave its name to the entire estate) remained in Harford ownership until the early decades of the twentieth century, and by the later nineteenth century the ground floor of Blaise Castle was earning its keep as a residence for estate workers. The family continued to allow access to parties of naturalists, antiquarians and ramblers, and the reports of their visits in the first decade of the twentieth century provide detail of the upper room in the tower. It was by then furnished with a collection of arms and armour, rare old china and furniture, and had ‘beautiful stained glass windows’. Like the earlier tourists, the groups could climb up to the top to appreciate the magnificent scenery.

In 1926 access became available to all when the Bristol Corporation bought the estate as a ‘charming natural playground’ where the city’s citizens might enjoy ‘the beauty with which nature has endowed this place so lavishly’.

As well as the hilltop folly the grounds also featured a castellated lodge, a ‘fairy tale’ thatched lodge and places of ‘childish delight’ such as ‘The Butcher’s Cave’ and ‘The Giant’s Footprint’. In 1949 a Folk Museum was opened in the mansion, and there was also a ‘pleasant restaurant’ where visitors could dine off elegant crockery bearing the arms of the city.

By the 1970s, after years of neglect and abuse by vandals, the folly was in poor condition. The interior had fallen into complete disrepair and, as Barbara Jones noted in her research files, the stained glass had been destroyed ‘by hooligans’.

The exterior fabric was also in a poor condition, and in 1979 the council proposed pulling down the most dangerous section, and preserving the rest as a ‘conserved ruin’. Public opinion was vociferously in favour of restoring the whole castle, and in March 1981 a local paper could announce that the dangerous turret was currently being rebuilt and that it was ‘hoped to fully restore this fanciful building over the next three years’.

Today an active community charity, Friends of Blaise (born out of the campaign to see the castle restored in the 1980s) supports the city council in their efforts to maintain the estate. The volunteers open the castle (grade II*) to the public on certain days in the warmer months, but you can walk up to it at any time. There’s a walking guide here. There’s still a museum and a cafe – just don’t expect the fancy china.

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In 1953 Barbara Jones published Follies & Grottoes, a ‘handsome book on a fascinating subject’. It was the first book to look at follies in any depth, and was well-received. Almost twenty years later it was announced that there would be a revised edition, for whilst the first edition was remembered as a pioneering book, it was ‘not a comprehensive survey’. Upon publication in November 1974 (fifty years ago this week) the new edition was judged ‘double the size and more than twice as good’.

Constable & Co. commissioned the first edition after Jones and Ralph Arnold, one of the directors of the publishing house, had become friends – Arnold had given Jones one of her first jobs in illustration in 1938. In February 1953 Bookseller magazine announced that ‘Barbara Jones has completed her long-expected work on Follies and Grottoes – a blend of melancholy, horror, genial extravagance and elegant conceits’.

In 1972 Jones was awarded a Leverhulme Fellowship to allow her to ‘revise and extend’ two of her books: The Unsophisticated Arts (1951) and Follies and Grottoes. The funding allowed her to travel across the nation to revisit follies and explore the many new ones which she had been made aware of since 1953. The book was originally to be published in 1973 and Constable & Co. plugged it as forthcoming in November 1972, but Jones had so much new material to work with that it would be November 1974 before the book was in the shops. It was priced at a then substantial £10: the reviewer for the Birmingham Daily Post wrote that the ‘mammoth’ book was ‘surely the last word on the subject’* with the caveat ‘as it should be at that price’.

One criticism of the 1st edition was the paucity of images, with Clough Williams-Ellis in The Spectator describing Jones’s ‘rather scratchy sketches’ as ‘starvation rations’. As well as including more follies, the 2nd edition also featured many more illustrations, although all are printed in black and white. These were mainly by Jones herself, but there are a handful by artist friends such as Mary Adshead (above), James Gardner, Bill Howell and Raymond Fieldhouse. Reviewing the new edition for the Times Literary Supplement, Julian Barnes summed up what Jones had achieved: ‘It is wholly thanks to Barbara Jones that the wider public knows about, let alone cares about, the towers, ruins, grottoes, tunnels, and other architectural oddities which adorn the countryside’.

Follies & Grottoes was featured in The Times in November 1974 as one of their recommendations of ‘Lovely presents for lovely people’, and the article was illustrated with one of Jones’s ‘dramatic ink drawings’: a view of the conical folly at Barwick Park (above). The Scotsman gave the book a mention, clearly delighted to find the Pineapple at Dunmore on the cover of the new edition.

Follies & Grottoes has long been out of print, so look out for a second-hand copy if it isn’t already on your bookshelves.

*Apparently not.

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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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