Early in 1860 the Mayor of Hull, Zachariah Pearson, gave 27 acres of land to the Hull Corporation, on condition that they made an immediate start on laying it out as a public park. Initially known as the People’s Park, it was soon renamed Pearson Park in honour of the Mayor’s munificence. It was formally opened in September 1860, and quickly became a popular destination with all the usual attractions of lake, aviary, refreshment rooms and drinking fountain. But a couple of years after opening a less common feature joined the growing list of attractions in the park: a folly in the form of a sham ruin with a rather fascinating provenance.

To step back in time, the Ruins, as the folly in the park became known, had already been a feature in another Hull attraction. Much of the masonry had first been erected as an eye-catcher in Hull’s Zoological Gardens, a short-lived enterprise that operated for two decades before the money ran out. The Zoo opened in 1840 as a ‘place of resort for healthful exercise’ where the mind was to be stimulated by ‘the picturesque and tasteful arrangement of the grounds and architecture’.

In the early years ‘further architectural embellishments’ were added each season to encourage return visits: there was a Swiss chalet for the goats, a Moorish temple to house the elephants, and a ‘Heathen Temple’ which displayed what were then described as ‘curiosities associated with Buddhist mythology’. Supervising the layout was one of the Vice-presidents of the Zoological Gardens, the architect Henry Francis Lockwood. Lockwood (1811-1878) was then practicing in Hull, but would become famous for his later partnership with William Mawson, which produced buildings such as Bradford Town Hall and the mill, village and church in the model village of Saltaire, also in the West Riding.

Whilst the ruin in the Zoological Gardens was a sham, it was not intended to fool anyone, and was marked on the plan of the gardens as ‘Ruins (Artificial)’. But most of the masonry used was genuinely ancient, and had an excellent provenance, for it was purchased at the auction of surplus ‘reliques’ after the great fire at York Minster in May 1840. Material from the Minster was salvaged after the fire and made into small mementoes such as snuff boxes and candlesticks, but there was also also money to be made from the substantial pieces of timber and masonry that could not be reused when the damaged section of the church was rebuilt.

In 1844 the York auctioneer Mr Vaile informed ‘Antiquarians, Connossieurs [sic], Architects, Builders &c’ that he had been directed by the Restoration Committee of York Minster to sell the ‘Ancient and Valuable Reliques’. Present at the auction was Thomas Dalton Hammond, a Hull chemist and druggist and one of the Honorary Secretaries of the Zoological Society, and when bidding began for the masonry he was quick off the mark and snapped up the first lot. This was an ‘Ancient perforated Stone Parapet from the top of the North-West Tower’ at a cost of one guinea, and Hammond then went on to buy a total of 27 lots. His haul included keystones, quatrefoils, carved flowers and carved lion heads, mouldings, marble flooring and his most expensive purchase, at £1.12.0, was ‘Two Canopies, with Buttresses, Crockets, Springer and Finials complete’ which had been part of the South Side of the Nave. These fragments, as well as decorative masonry from other churches, then began the second phase of their lives as a folly in the Zoological Gardens, but sadly no view is known to survive.

Meanwhile, plans had been progressing for another recreational facility for the people of Hull, and Pearson Park, on the land donated by Pearson, had opened in 1860 to a design by Mr J.C. Niven, the Curator of the town’s Botanical Gardens (Kingston upon Hull did not gain city status in 1897). As the park was being developed the Zoological Gardens were struggling to survive, and eventually failed.

The animals were dispersed, and in 1862 the ‘costly and ornamental buildings’ were offered at auction. The Folly Flâneuse would love to know what happened to the ‘large and handsome’ Elephant House, or the ‘exceedingly beautiful’ Menagerie as well as the many other buildings and artefacts. But we do know that the ‘Ancient Church Architecture’ was bought by Alderman Moss of Hull. With civic funds at his disposal he expended £45 on portions of the ruins: according to the sale catalogue these comprised a ‘fine screen’ from York Minster, as well as fragments from Holy Trinity Church in Hull, and a church at Owthorne (possibly St Nicholas near Withernsea which had stood derelict before being restored in 1858). The fragments were then used for the third time as rather fine folly in Pearson Park.

In 1864 the local historian Sheahan wrote that the Ruins would soon mellow and ‘form a pretty feature’. Publishers agreed and the scene was soon featured on countless picture postcards.

By 1929 the once pristine area around the folly had become overgrown, and a letter to the editor of the Hull Daily Mail suggested that a ‘suitable inscription’ be placed near the Ruins to explain the forgotten history of the stones. But the folly continued to fall out of fashion and favour, and it was cleared when the park was ‘modernised’ in the 1950s to save money on maintenance and staffing. Sadly there was no auction this time, and the Folly Flâneuse has not (yet) discovered what happened to the ancient stones. Pearson Park remains an amenity for the people of Hull.

There’s an excellent history of the Zoological Gardens on the Hull History Centre website here https://www.hullhistorycentre.org.uk/whats-on/activities/The-Zoo-on-the-Avenue-Booklet.pdf

Thanks to Chris Hand for mentioning the Ruins and setting in motion a most enjoyable piece of research, and to the teams at Hull History Centre and York Minster Archives.

Please scroll down to the comments box if you would like to share any thoughts or further information. Thank you very much for reading.

In 1829 William Bettison Esq. purchased a country retreat on Newbegin in Hornsea, in the East Riding of Yorkshire. From here, he commuted by phaeton to Hull, where during his career he was owner of the Humber Street Brewery and proprietor of the Hull Advertiser. The house came with ‘extensive Pleasure Grounds’ and some time around 1844 he constructed this curious tower built of what are called treacle bricks, over-baked rejects from the kiln.

Bettison left Hornsea about a decade later but his name would live on. The story told locally is that a local lad/sailor climbed the tower and hung a placard from the top emblazoned with the words ‘Bettison’s Folly’, and thus it got its name. The legend also has it that Bettison built the tower so that his son/a servant could clamber up, spot him returning from Hull in his carriage, and give the order to cook to get the supper on the table.

In 1882 the estate was purchased by Mr. C. Shaw, and in 1901 he hosted a garden party in aid of the Wesleyan Society. The Hull Daily Mail sent a reporter who was fascinated by the tower (which could be climbed for twopence) and enquired into its history. A local man, Mr Roxby, remembered the tower being constructed and named the builder as John Russell, a Hornsea bricklayer – although other accounts say that it was built by a Hull builder who was never paid as Bettison went bankrupt.

Whoever the builder was, it must have been an unusual commission given the curious use of Flemish bond with projecting headers. Roxby could even give the source of the bricks as the Hornsea Burton Brickyard (Hornsea Burton was a nearby hamlet now lost to the encroaching sea). These bricks are usually said to have been ‘rejects’, over-baked in the kiln, but our anonymous journalist was told they were a ‘special make’. Whatever their origins, they are extremely unusual and extremely effective, catching the light (on a good day) and making the tower shimmer. The designer was quite a pioneer of recycling: as well as using the waste from the kiln the tower also has beer bottle windows*, presumably from Bettison’s brewery.

The newspaper article didn’t mention any of the tales associated with the tower, but concluded that Bettison ‘simply built it as a fad in order to have an opportunity of admiring the surrounding scenery’. The view would have taken in a local beauty spot, the large freshwater lake called Hornsea Mere.

When Barbara Jones was researching for the second edition of Follies and Grottoes she missed the tower on a 1971 recce and appealed to local contacts for information. By that date the Tower House (as it had become known) had been demolished and in 1966 a care home “The Willows’ was built on the site. Happily Jones must eventually have managed to see the tower, and in the revised book she describes it as ‘enchantingly pretty’.

The key source who helped Jones with information was Raymond Fieldhouse, a Scarborough schoolmaster who had served with Jones’s husband Clifford Barry in India during the Second World War, and later became friends with the couple. His initial response was that he didn’t know the structure, but intrigued he set off to Hornsea to investigate. He admired the tower, especially the bricks which he described as ‘a beautiful dark purplish-red’, but he drew the line at entering after the gardener advised “I wouldn’t if I were you, everything’s a foot deep in pigeon muck’. Fieldhouse also learned that the Hornsea Town Band used to climb the tower and perform on May Day. This must, he wrote, have been quite an achievement in a narrow tower, and he concluded that the ‘trombonist would be a positive menace’.

Fieldhouse (1913-1979) was well known in Scarborough where he contributed a column to the Scarborough Evening News and Mercury, and in 1973 co-wrote and illustrated The Streets of Scarborough, a guide to the town’s architecture. He was a talented artist, almost entirely self-taught, and Fieldhouses’s pen and ink sketch of Bettison’s Tower (above) appeared in the revised 1974 edition of Follies and Grottoes, one of only a handful of contemporary sketches by an artist other than Jones herself.

The nursing home has gone and the tower is now surrounded by housing. It is well-maintained and whilst currently there is no public access to the interior, the exterior is easily seen and there is an information board showing the series of stairs and platforms that lead to the roof.

The Folly Flâneuse is rather susceptible to being sidetracked… In the course of finding out more about Raymond Fieldhouse she discovered that he had designed the cover for the programme for the Northern Command Tattoo, held in Roundhay Park, Leeds, in June 1954. This was quite a spectacle (see film clips below) and Princess Margaret was one of the guests of honour. Fieldhouse’s illustrations are lovely, but equally fascinating is that the schedule of events which accompanied the programme could ‘be seen in the dark’. It was printed on special paper and ‘when held against the searchlights each item can be clearly seen’.

And the wonderful cover too has a luminosity which would make it stand out on a darkening evening.

There are clips from Pathé News showing the Roundhay Park Tattoo here https://www.britishpathe.com/video/princess-margaret-at-military-tattoo-reel-1

Fieldhouse’s drawing of the tower was still in Barbara Jones’s studio at the time of her death. It is currently with Neil Jennings Fine Art. Contact neiljennings20@gmail.com for more information.

Thanks to John Fieldhouse for helping with information about his late father. In another of those curious coincidences which The Folly Flâneuse so loves, John studied at the Royal College of Art in the early 1970s where he would often spend time with Barbara and Clifford.

* Predating Barney and Stig by over a century.