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.

The Folly Flâneuse is putting her feet up this week, and handing over to her very good friend The Garden Historian. As guest contributor he reveals the history of the lovely, but now lost, timber temple at Exton Park.

In 1953, when Barbara Jones coined the opening words ‘survival is capricious’ for her account of the Bark Temple in Follies & Grottoes, she was probably unaware of how prophetic they were. At the time, she mused whether it was ‘perhaps built as a band stand for dances by the lake’; yet feeling the building’s oppressiveness as it slipped into ruin, added ‘but an innocent purpose for it seems unthinkable.’ She was actually so right on the former, and so wrong on the latter.

There have been many opinions as to when the temple was built – Jones carefully evades that point – with some writers suggesting it dates from the 18th century, probably because it was assumed to be contemporary with nearby Fort Henry, a pretty gothic lakeside pavilion (by William Daniel Legg, 1786–89). More scholarly was Roger White’s assessment that it was ‘probably […] a survival of the late 18th century fashion for primitivism, propagated by the Abbé Laugier and Sir William Chambers and practised by architects such as Soane.’ Somewhere along the way, Thomas Wright’s name has been brought into the melange, and an attribution to John Linnell Bond needs to be abandoned – he died eight years before its appearance. Laugier’s sentiments were first published, in French, in 1753, with an English translation two years later; Chambers, in his 1759 Treatise on Civil Architecture, saw primitive buildings as no more than an evolutionary stage in architectural history. But if such works inspired Exton’s bark temple, there was a wait of almost a hundred years.

It was actually constructed for the wedding celebrations of Andrew Agnew and the Lady Mary Arabella Louisa Noel, eldest daughter of Exton’s owner, the Earl of Gainsborough. The wedding took place on Thursday, 20 August 1846, although festivities started the previous day with a ‘Tenants’ Dinner’ for some 260 persons in a marquee, and a women’s tea in the coach houses at the house, which also accommodated about a hundred labourers on the Thursday morning as well as teas for the schools on the Friday (subject to weather conditions); the wedding breakfast was held in Fort Henry (at half past one for those who just have to know). The Lincolnshire Chronicle for 21 August recorded:

‘… The spot selected for pitching the tent was about two miles distant from the house, and by far the most picturesque site on these delightful grounds, being on an eminence immediately in front of the expansive sheet of water which so delightfully diversifies the scenery in Exton Park, and very near to the fairy temple now in course of erection.’

The last remark is key – it indicates that despite their best efforts, the ‘fairy temple’ was not complete at the time of the wedding, even though from the scant documents that we do have, some seventy four carpenters, masons, and labourers were engaged in these preparations. Unsigned rough drawings hint at the bark temple being designed almost on the spot, and everything done in haste. There was a family tradition of hosting parties by the lake and in Pavilions in Peril Julia Abel-Smith noted a picture at the hall ‘of the lakeside clearing en fête with fireworks breaking over the water’ – it would be nice to think that the temple was ready enough for dancing of an evening, the Exton band serenading the family and their guests as they glided across the wooden floor.

The unknown architect may have been influenced by an 18th century design by William Wrighte, which was advocated ‘to be placed at the head of a grand canal’, with ‘the arcades to be ice or frosted work’, with a length of some 75 feet. At Exton, the lake suffices for the canal, and bark for the frosted work; its length was 75 feet. But the temple’s juxtaposition and axial alignment to Fort Henry are also key: being on rising ground, it terminated a vista for those enjoying a boat trip; for those in the temple, the setting was reversed, with Fort Henry adopting the role of banqueting house (and possibly an ideal setting for the firework displays). Ironically it was Fort Henry, ‘almost beyond preservation’ in the eyes of Barbara Jones, that was rescued, thanks to the work of architect Will Hawkes; but sadly the bark temple succumbed.

As much as it would have been wonderful to see this building saved, viewing this dilemma from the owner’s perspective casts a more pragmatic hue. Its remoteness from the house would have put a restored building at considerable risk from any ne’er do wells; that it was principally of wood construction added to its vulnerability. In 1994, English Heritage commissioned surveys and measured drawings of what then survived of the structure, so at least a record of this unique building exists. But it is the photographs of Neville and Will Hawkes that prove the most evocative and captivating. They show the structure still in reasonable condition – both arcades still standing, and mostly roofed. It died, in the winter of 1997, æt. 150.

Fort Henry survives has been beautifully restored as, rather appropriately, a venue for weddings and events. It can be seen from a public footpath. For Exton Park see https://www.extonpark.co.uk

Thanks to the Garden Historian for this post, and thank you for reading. If you’d like to comment, please scroll down. If you would like to read more about follies, why not subscribe and receive a weekly post direct to your inbox.