In 1941 Batsford published a new title by Edmund Vale called Curiosities of Town and Countryside. With a striking cover by Brian Cook, featuring the triumphal arch at Shugborough Hall, Staffordshire, the jacket blurb promised the reader ‘freaks, eccentricities and follies.’

The Flâneuse recently ordered a copy online and whilst waiting for the postman to arrive began to do some background research. She was baffled to find the reviewer in the Hampstead News writing that amongst the buildings featured in the volume were ‘monstrosities like Lansdown Tower, Bath, and the Sugarloaf Folly, Sussex’. William Beckford and ‘Mad’ Jack Fuller may have built structures that weren’t to everyone’s taste, but ‘monstrosities’ seemed a little harsh.

And then the book was delivered, and all became clear. As he states in the book’s preface, Mr Vale (1888-1969) excludes follies from his study of curiosities for the simple reason that he has ‘always cherished a profound and contemptuous dislike for these monstrosities’. His publisher, Harry Batsford, is adamant that follies should be included in the book, but Vale is resolute that he won’t write about them, and continues that follies are ‘interlopers’ as they are ‘decidely eccentric and not accidentally so’.

‘However I must not rant’ Vale writes (rather too late in the Flâneuse’s opinion) and he introduces Mr Charles Bradley Ford who has come to the rescue by writing a final chapter on follies, and thus allowing Vale to maintain his moral high ground. However this is all a little tongue-in-cheek, for ‘Charles Bradley Ford’ was the pen-name of Harry Batsford and his colleague Christopher Fry: when the company was hit by the financial crisis of the early 1930s, it was cheaper to write the books themselves using a pseudonym.

The publishers also had the last word on illustrations, so many ‘monstrosities’ can be found pictured in the book, including those featured here, although to add to the confusion some of the photographs are of structures that are not even mentioned in the text. And of course the dust jacket features a famous landscape ornament.

‘Ford’ begins his chapter with the obligatory note on the difficulty of defining a folly. He continues that the subject of follies is an ‘amusing and engaging byway’, but with a nod to Vale he continues that to some they are ‘detestable and deplorable excrescences’. Ford believes that follies ‘add to the gaiety of the countryside’, although he draws the line at obelisks which are ‘dull and commonplace in spite of the efforts of lightening to reduce their number’.

The Illustrated London News called the book ‘delectable’ and it is certainly a handsome volume. The argument for and against follies it contains is decidedly odd, but most entertaining: an excellent addition to any folly fan’s library.

The Flâneuse first spotted the striking dust jacket in a new Batsford publication – The Book Cover by Paul Dimond. The book explores 150 years of the vibrant covers designed for Batsford publications.

All of the follies pictured here are extant, and all can be visited or seen from a public road.

Thank you for reading. There will be more monstrosities next week. Scroll down to the comments box if you would like to share any thoughts.

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.

Thanks for reading and do please scroll down to the comments box to share any thoughts or further information.