Newton Solney: Castle folly landed squire in hot water

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Nobody likes a show off warns author Richard Stone as he describes how an extravagant prank by a well-known Derbyshire landowner backfired rather spectacularly.

THUMBING your nose at public opinion has always been a risky business. Some 200 years ago, the divide between the “haves” and “have nots” was wide. Domestic service was the most common occupation, making the middle classes collectively the country’s largest employer of labour.

Society was organised along rigid class lines. Rank and wealth was accompanied by privilege. But status also came with responsibility and expectations about socially acceptable behaviour.

England’s aristocrats had France as an example of what could happen if things turned nasty.

In Paris, the Bastille had been stormed, Monsieur Guillotin’s invention taken up enthusiastically by the mob, and the “Reign of Terror” triggered.

Although the mood was very different on this side of the Channel, you would expect some lessons to be learned about the dangers of conspicuous consumption.

Yet, this was the time one local man decided on a touch of swank and flashy self-advertisement.

In 1795, Abraham Hoskins, a successful solicitor with a number of business interests, purchased a parcel of land at Newton Solney in South Derbyshire from Sir Henry Every.

Hoskins had risen to the position and status of High Bailiff of Burton-on-Trent.

At 66 years of age, he was winding down to enjoy his leisure and set about creating a lifestyle to match his new status as a landowning squire.

Up-and-coming designer Francis Bernasconi, known primarily for his elaborate plasterwork, produced plans for an impressive Italianate mansion, Newton Hall, set in landscaped parkland.

No problem so far, Hoskins was simply reaping the rewards of a successful career. But trouble began when a frivolous addition was built half-a-mile south-west of the new park.

Hoskins was a respected pillar of society. The family’s status as key players in local society was confirmed when his daughter, Sarah Hoskins, married Burton brewer, Michael Bass.

Their son, Michael Thomas Bass, took over the family firm aged 28 in 1827, and, with partners Samuel Ratcliff and John Gretton, turned it into one of the greatest breweries in the world.

I suspect Abraham Hoskins junior of responsibility for the “added extra” to the Hoskins estate.

Then in his late 30s, he was an indulged eldest son, very much a man of his age.

And in the 18th and 19th centuries there was a fashion for elaborate architectural conceits known collectively as follies (from French folie meaning a delight or favourite place).

Rich landowners, with plenty of leisure and fat wallets, exercised their imaginations on increasingly bizarre designs, with many drawing inspiration from their “grand tours” of continental Europe’s classic sites, popular jaunts for the well-heeled temporarily curtailed by war with France.

Practical jokes in stone, brick and mortar, including Greek temples, Roman arches, Swiss bridges, Chinese pagodas, and strikingly conceived towers appeared in the grounds of great houses.

At Sudbury Hall, Lord Vernon built a fanciful, fortress-like deercote in 1723. His heir followed this some 50 years later with a mediaeval-style tower looking out over the Dove Valley from Tutbury Castle.

Hoskins’ folly was Bladon Castle. Built along the prominent summit of Bladon Hill, on the Derbyshire bank of the River Trent, to a plan by top architect, Sir Jeffrey Wyatville.

The “castle” consisted of a single long wall, pierced by pointed windows and topped with commanding battlements.

Like a kite flown on an invisible string from the “big house”, it floated above the ridge, dominating the skyline of Newton Solney and defiantly overlooking Burton.

From a distance, Bladon Castle had the appearance of the genuine article. But, like a modern film set, it was all front.

Designed to command attention, possibly to promote Newton Solney as the “in” place to live and attract investment, the “castle” certainly caused a stir.

An antagonistic local mood is even more understandable seen in the context of the times and against the backdrop of wider events.

Napoleon controlled France and the Grande Armée was poised to conquer mainland Europe. England was seriously threatened with invasion.

The local outcry was such that, in order to take the heat out of the situation, a central block of rooms was hurriedly added behind the castle frontage and the Hoskins family moved in, thereby at least giving the folly a practical purpose.

It was to prove a “double whammy”. As a home, Bladon was far from ideal. The site lacked the basic necessity of water. Daily supplies had to be hauled uphill by mule.

Added to that, the extra expense of making Bladon habitable put pressure on already stretched finances.

Abraham snr died in 1805. Abraham jnr was a betting man and an ardent fan of field sports.

Left in charge of the family’s dwindling fortune, he invested in hare coursing with characteristic over-the-top exuberance.

The science of bloodlines was relatively new but gaining credence. Hoskins set up his own breeding pack of hounds, all with names beginning with “H”: Highlander, Hermes, High Flyer, Huntingdon, Hasty, Henrietta and so on.

Hoskins’ stud achieved widespread fame but, despite huge sums of money lavished on his hobby, the results achieved in terms of prize money and competitions won were relatively modest.

Inevitably, the money drained away. In 1836, Hoskins was forced to sell Newton Hall to his neighbour, Lord Chesterfield, and move to a rather more modest villa-style house at Uttoxeter.

Chesterfield rented the hall to Burton brewer, William Worthington. In the 1890s another local brewer, Richard Ratcliff, purchased the property.

It was sold by the Ratcliff estate and became the Newton Park Hotel in 1966.

Ratcliff’s brewing partner, John Gretton, accompanied him to Newton Solney and moved into Bladon Castle.

By then, the property was equipped with efficient pumps to supply water, and it is rumoured, had been given a decorative makeover by none other than influential Arts and Crafts designer, William Morris.

The War Office requisitioned Bladon Castle during the Second World War and, since 1972, it has been in private hands.

As if still wary of public disapproval, Castle Wood provides a discreet veil guarding it from public view.

The Hoskins’ star may have flared briefly but for a short time it blazed bright and left a lasting legacy.

Many of Newton Solney’s houses were built around 1800, as the village expanded under the patronage of Abraham Hoskins snr, using local bricks from John Hopkins’ yard, adjacent to Newton Hall.

The Brickmakers’ Arms and an attractive row of former workers’ cottages in Main Street are reminders of the mini-boom and once flourishing brickworks.

As well as High Bailiff of Burton, Abraham snr’s business interests extended to a directorship of the Burton Boat Company which leased shipping rights on the River Trent from Lord Paget.

Stone for Newton Hall probably arrived at Newton Solney by sailing barge, delivered to a convenient port from quarries at Ancaster to be shipped upriver.

A tasteful marble tablet in Burton’s parish church of St Modwen commemorates the life of Abraham Hoskins snr.

St Mary’s Church at Newton Solney has a memorial to Abraham jnr.

Daydreams of sudden wealth are common. Perhaps finding that priceless antique in the attic; receiving an unexpected inheritance; coming up with a runaway new business idea; even winning the National Lottery jackpot.

For most of us it will remain fantasy. But, if you do happen to strike lucky, remember Hoskins’ folly and don’t underestimate the power of public opinion when it comes to spending your loot.

What seems like a fun idea to impress the neighbours might just turn into a white elephant.

Clearing up the mess could require one heck of a poop scoop!

Richard Stone’s latest book, The River Trent, is available in hardback from local bookshops, priced £14.99.

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