Although vandals in earlier centuries may not have been armed with marker pens and aerosol sprays, they were still keen to leave their mark. Follies and garden buildings, often in remote locations, seem to have been particularly attractive targets. Many seemed to think this activity was perfectly acceptable and used their pencil or pocket knife to leave their full name, clearly identifying themselves as the culprits. Owners tried various tactics to deter the scribblers.

Some erected polite notices, requesting that visitors refrained from defacing their garden and landscape features. As early as 1751, the tower known as Hartshead Pike in Lancashire carried a stone plaque poetically requesting that visitors refrain from lobbing stones at the structure:

An account of Hagley in Worcestershire noted graffiti on the alcove seat (by the time the description was published in 1762 the alcove was being converted into the Palladian Bridge which stands today). The writer thought it a pity that ‘that neither gratitude or Good-Manners can prevail with some People; for here and elsewhere, notwithstanding his Lordship’s Request to the contrary, are many Scribblings on the Wall, which give offence to Decency’ (thanks to the Garden Historian for sharing this great snippet).

In 1825 the 4th Duke of Newcastle was ‘much annoyed’ to discover that shells had been broken from the walls of the new grotto he was building at Clumber Park in Nottinghamshire, and a few years later he was ‘much shocked’ to find insulting graffiti in his Stone Temple by the side of the lake.

At Stanway House, in Gloucestershire, visitors seem to have been a relatively well-behaved bunch and a simple painted sign in the Pyramid of 1750 (title image) seems to have deterred the worst of the offenders.

At the shelter built for those walking across the moorland called Hampsfell in Lancashire (now Cumbria) a sign implored that visitors ‘do no mischief’.

When this didn’t work, the owner put up some blank boards and asked people to sign their names there. But ‘wanton mischief’ continued:

At Swanage in Dorset, that great collector of architectural salvage, George Burt, got fed up of what one writer in 1922 called ‘the passion of Dick, Tom and Harry […] for inscribing their names upon every prominent object’. He provided two blank stone tablets engraved with the message ‘Persons anxious to write their names will please do so on this stone only’. Dick, Tom and Harry might have been disappointed to learn that they were not leaving their mark in perpetuity, for Burt apparently had the stones scrubbed and whitewashed over at regular intervals ready for the next set of tourists.

The owners of a pretty rustic summerhouse near Braemar in the Highlands, pinned-up a polite request, again in verse form, asking visitors to refrain from leaving graffiti:

But when the Flâneuse visited a few years ago one family had not only ignored the sign, but had been making annual trips to update their crude biro scrawls, recording their wedding and the birth of grandchildren. The Flâneuse would like to have named and shamed, but fears that that the family in question would enjoy the attention.

Thank you for reading. Your polite scribblings are most welcome – you can find the comments box at the foot of the page to share any thoughts.

In the middle of the 20th century books featuring the adventures of the Lockett children captured the imaginations of young readers. One title in particular appealed to the Folly Flâneuse: what ghastly goings-on could have taken place at the ‘half completed and abandoned tower’ known as Steeple Folly? And which real clifftop folly might have been the inspiration for it?

The author of this tale was Mary Evelyn Atkinson (1889-1974), who published as M.E. Atkinson. She was born in London, the daughter of a schoolmaster at Highgate School, but when a small child the family removed to Swanage in Dorset, where her father founded the Durlston Court Preparatory School in 1903. This county would provide the setting for the books in which Bill, Jane and Oliver Lockett roam, free from adult supervision, encountering one adventure after another.

Steeple Folly was published in 1950, and like the others in the series received a warm welcome in the press, with the Western Times writing that the ‘adventures of the Locketts never fail to enthrall’. Beautifully illustrated by writer and illustrator Charlotte Hough (1924-2008) the story, full of nursery teas, housemaids, and gymkhanas, was aimed at a middle-class readership: to the modern reader Atkinson comes across as a complete snob, letting her protagonists patronise the servants and sneer at children who are schooled at ‘some rotten little local outfit’. And to make matters worse she doesn’t even approve of follies! With a rather limited vocabulary she calls the tower ‘that absurd erection’, ‘absurd Steeple Folly’, ‘that stone absurdity’ and, in case anyone has missed her point, adds that at close range the ‘the folly looked positively immense- but just as absurd as ever’.

The folly is largely incidental to the plot, which won’t be explored further in case anyone wishes to read the story, but the Folly Flâneuse wondered what genuine hilltop tower might have inspired Steeple Folly. The most obvious suggestion is the Clavell Tower, aka Kimmeridge Folly, on the Dorset coast which Atkinson would have known as it is only 10 miles or so from Swanage, near the hamlet of Steeple. It is close to landmarks that feature in the book, such as the famous Blue Pool, and like Steeple Folly it is perched on an eminence with extensive views. To be clear: this is pure supposition, but it does give the Folly Flâneuse an excuse to feature this marvellous building.

The tower was built as an observatory, or belvedere, by Revd John Clavell (c.1760-1833) of Smedmore House in 1830. It continued to be a seaside retreat for his heirs, the Mansel family, and in 1852 the cannon that surrounded the tower were fired and flags hoisted to mark a family wedding. Later it served for a period as a coastguard look-out shelter, but meanwhile the soft cliffs of the Dorset coast were slowly eroding and edging ever closer to the tower.

By 1926 the tower itself was deteriorating, and in that year vandals were prosecuted for ‘dislodging and throwing down stones of which the tower is built’. In 1948 the artist John Piper wrote an essay on ‘The Nautical Style’ in which he admired the ‘absolutely sound’ condition of the ancient chapel on St Alban’s Head, in Dorset. He compared this to the Clavell Tower: ‘ a pretty but pathetic attempt at folly building on the coast, six hundred years younger than the Romanesque chapel, but crumbling to bits’.

A 1959 article in Country Life reported that the ruined Clavell Tower was now dangerously close to the edge of the cliffs. It was the tower and the adjacent perilous precipice that the author P.D. James chose as one of the settings for her 1975 murder-mystery The Black Tower, in which her fictional folly has a rather gruesome history. The tower has subsequently appeared on the cover of various editions of the book, as well as playing itself in the 1985 TV adaptation.

The tower continued to moulder until the end of the 20th century, when the Mansels of Smedmore set up the Clavell Tower Trust and took advice from English Heritage. After much analysis and discussion it was agreed that the only option was to dismantle the folly and rebuild it further inland.

This was beyond the means of the Clavell Tower Trust, and a conversation was started with the Landmark Trust to see if they could take on the project and rebuild the tower as a holiday let. The charity’s trustees were understandably concerned about the complexity of the process, but in 2002 gave ‘cautious acceptance’ to the plans. With Heritage Lottery Funding in place to augment funds from a public appeal, and donations from a vast number of charitable trusts, work began in 2006, and the first of many eager guests arrived in August 2008.

Visit the Landmark Trust’s website for details of visiting the tower on open days in September, or to find out about staying in this fabulous folly https://www.landmarktrust.org.uk/news-and-events/upcoming-events/clavell-open-day-22/

And for a full history of the tower, including the restoration, see the Landmark Trust’s excellent history album https://www.landmarktrust.org.uk/about-us/history-albums/#C

John Piper’s essay was first published in 1938 but revised in 1948 for inclusion in the anthology Buildings and Prospects. His photo’ of the deteriorating tower is in the collection of Tate https://www.tate.org.uk/art/archive/items/tga-8728-1-10-44/piper-photograph-of-clavell-tower-kimmeridge-wareham-dorset

If you would like to share any thoughts or information please comment using the box at the bottom of the page. To receive a folly story in your inbox every Saturday morning please click on the Subscribe link. Thank you for reading, and please share this post if you know someone who might be interested.