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.

In the early 19th century the ‘Cullelo’ estate in Fife, as it was then known*, was owned by James Stuart of Dunearn (1775-1849). Stuart lived not far away at Hillside, near Aberdour, where he was said to have ‘greatly beautified the grounds’. At ‘Cullelo’ he seems to have created a ferme ornée with walks and rides surrounding a rather grand farm house.

By 1826 the house at ‘Cullelo’ had been updated with a ‘Grecian front’ and was surrounded by ‘beautiful’ evergreen shrubberies. The fields were sheltered by plantations ,which had an ornamental as well as practical purpose: they were cut through with ‘ridings and roads, and gravelled paths and walks’. The temple and tower, which are believed to be contemporary with work on the house, were features in these ornamental grounds, and the terrace on which they stand was said to have one of the finest prospects in Great Britain. All of this landscaping is shown on a map which can be dated to the 1820s, but no further records seem to survive.

The Temple is supported by a central column from which springs a fine vaulted roof. It was probably built as somewhere to shelter and take refreshments when enjoying the pleasure grounds, but when the Folly Flâneuse visited in November 2023 it was home to three roe deer who sadly skittered off before she could grab her camera.

At the other end of the terrace, or avenue, stands a curious structure which provides a complete contrast to the finely worked stone of the temple. A rough stone pyramid stands on four arches and must once have commanded fine views, although they are now blocked by trees.

In the 1850s the compilers of the 1st edition Ordnance Survey map noted the ‘small ornamental building called the Temple’ and ‘a Tower’ at ‘Cullalo’. The surveyors noted that they were unable to find any ‘historical accounts’ of the buildings. Sadly, the Flâneuse has had little more success.

In 1828 Stuart was declared bankrupt and his estates were sequestered. He is largely forgotten today, and if remembered at all it is for the duel he fought in 1822. Having been insulted in print by his political rival Sir Alexander Boswell (son of the biographer), Stuart challenged him to a duel in which Sir Alexander was mortally wounded. Duels were accepted as a gentlemanly way to settle quarrels, so when the case came to trial Stuart was unanimously acquitted by his peers.

In 1828, with Stuart’s finances in disarray, Cullaloe was bought by the Earl of Moray, whose land surrounded the estate. He had been using Cullaoe stone to develop the majestic Moray Estate in Edinburgh to a design by James Gillespie Graham (Stuart himself lived briefly at No. 20 Moray Place before his funds ran out). The stone was noted for its durability, but it was expensive to quarry and difficult to dress and for periods the quarry was abandoned. It was reopened in the 1860s to provide the stone for the building of Fettes College in Edinburgh to the designs of David Bryce, although by 1881 quarrying was once more discontinued.

Quarrying at Cullaoe was resumed early this century: the stone is in demand for repairs to historic buildings. There are also extensive forestry operations in the woodland, with the inevitable churned-up tracks, so one has to use one’s imagination to conjure up the picturesque scene that once could be found here. But the elegant temple and curious tower stand as reminders of the designed landscape, and are listed as Category B in a grouping with the farmhouse and a bridge on the estate.

In the 19th century lists of the eminent buildings constructed of Cullaloe stone appeared in advertisements for the quarry, and a number of town and landscape ornaments were mentioned: Lord Nelson’s Monument, Yarmouth; Lord Melville’s Monument, Edinburgh and the Conservatory at Dalkeith Palace to name but three.

To see the Cullaloe temple and the tower consult an OS map and explore the many possible walks through the woodland.

*There ia a bewildering list of variant spellings of Cullaloe including Calala, Collellow and Killalo, so to avoid confusion the modern spelling of Cullaloe will be used here unless a direct quotation is being made.

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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/

In 1822 work began in Edinburgh to construct a National Monument to commemorate the men of Scotland who had lost their lives during the long years of war with France. Calton Hill had been purchased for the people by Edinburgh’s Town Council in 1724, making it an early example of a public park in Britain, and the elevated site was chosen for the new monument. After considering various forms the city decided to erect a replica of the Parthenon, giving Edinburgh its very own Acropolis.  Charles Robert Cockerell was asked to design the building, with the Scotsman William Henry Playfair as executant architect in Scotland.

A committee of nobleman and local grandees had been tasked with raising the funds, and they were confident that the cost would not exceed £40,000. The Earl of Elgin was one of those involved and helpfully offered some of the mementoes he had ‘brought home’ from Greece as models during construction. His ‘specimens of the Entablatures’ of the Parthenon would of course become known as the Elgin Marbles.

The foundation stone was laid on 27 August 1822 but work was slow and the money soon ran out. Playfair wrote to Cockerell in London in June 1829 to report that ‘Our Parthenon is come to a dead halt… and what is to be done next I know not. I suppose, Nothing!’ Playfair was right: building ceased and the monument was soon dubbed ‘Scotland’s Folly’ and ‘Edinburgh’s Disgrace’. Although there have been numerous proposals to complete the structure over the centuries it remains a roofless shell, albeit a very handsome one.

Calton Hill is home to a number of other structures and monuments, including a tower dedicated to Lord Nelson (Robert Louis Stevenson was not a fan of the slender Nelson Tower, writing in 1878 that it ‘ranked among the vilest of men’s handiworks). W. H. Playfair had designed the City Observatory in 1818 and this structure has recently been restored by arts organisation Collective as a contemporary arts venue. Collective raised the funds to restore the buildings and with the support of City of Edinburgh Council the new venue opened to the public in November 2018. https://www.collective-edinburgh.art One of the current exhibits (January 2019) is a work by artist Klaus Weber. Fagman was inspired by ‘the rich history of realised and failed monuments on Calton Hill’ and takes the form of a ‘smoking snowman sculpture’ which is an ‘anti-hero, humorously countering the historic monuments of Calton Hill – traditional large, stone sculptures that celebrate the dominant histories of white, male figures’.

Walking back down into the city, the Dugald Stewart Monument (1831) looked like an Atkinson Grimshaw painting, with the gas-lamps replaced by the towering cranes of Edinburgh’s latest shopping complex development.