Issue 46: ornamental hermits
'It might strike the 21st Century reader as bizarre, even hilarious, but in the 18th Century it was taken seriously, it was a fashion.'
Welcome to Born Free Press, a fortnightly newsletter delivering a free-range collection of interesting stories for interested people. Currently focusing on quirks and curiosities from the UK’s history.
Thank you for your patience while I indulged in my ‘summer of reflection’. I’m back now – refreshed, with lots of new ideas for this fortnightly newsletter, and a new occasional newsletter to come (on which more below).
It felt fitting to mark the return from my summer break with a story about a hermitage.
Originally, a hermitage (which could be a natural cave, a ruin, or a simple hut) was a place where religious men would go to convene with God, escape the temptations of the world, to contemplate, and reflect.
But the type of hermitage I am writing about today is the variety that was popular among wealthy estate owners in 18th Century England.
Your see, the Georgian period coincided with a shift away from perfectly pruned and geometrically aligned gardens, to something less formal, more wild. It’s what became known as the ‘English landscape garden’. And these gardens were often punctuated with architectural follies – from towers and temples, to mock-ruins and grottoes – to delight visitors.
Among these follies were also hermitages. And while some were intended as a place of reflection for the estate owner, in many cases – in the interests of full authenticity – ornamental hermits were employed to live in them.
As Gordon Campbell states in his 2013 book, 'The Hermit in the Garden: From Imperial Rome to Ornamental Gnome':
"The phenomenon of the ornamental hermit living in the garden strikes the 21st Century reader as bizarre, even hilarious, but in the 18th Century it was, for the most part, taken seriously [...] At its core lies a notion of contemplative solitude and pleasurable melancholy, but it was also a fashion."
But before your mind starts drifting off to fantasies about tranquil, tiny house living in lush green surroundings – it’s important to note that the job of an ornamental hermit was not easy.
Case in point: Painshill Park.
I visited the 160-acre site in Surrey, south-west of London, this summer. Truth be told, I went for the crystal grotto (sadly, currently undergoing conservation, so I didn’t get to experience its full glory), but it was the hermitage and its former inhabitant that piqued my interest.
Painshill was created by Charles Hamilton (former member of parliament in Ireland and England) between 1738 and 1773. It was inspired by the sites he’d experienced on his grand tours around Europe.
As well as the crystal grotto, the park also features a temple dedicated to Bacchus, a Turkish-style tent, a ruined abbey, gothic temple, and mausoleum.
When it came to his hermitage – and the ornamental hermit to inhabit it – Hamilton’s requirements were exacting. Discomfort and deprivation were an essential part of the job.
In an 1852 issue of the periodical, ‘Notes and Queries’, a contributor relayed examples of ornamental hermits they’d collected in their scrapbook, including Hamilton’s advertisement, which stipulated:
“[the hermit] was to continue in the hermitage seven years, where he should be provided with a Bible, optical glasses, a mat for his bed, a hassock for his pillow, an hour-glass for his timepiece, water for his beverage, food from the house, but never to exchange a syllable with the servant. He was to wear a camlet robe, never to cut his beard or nails, nor ever to stray beyond the limits of the grounds.”
In return for those seven years of strict service, Hamilton would – providing every condition was met – pay the successful applicant 700 guineas (which is about £130,000 in today’s money).
The Painshill hermitage is located on the western side of the park, above a steep slope overlooking the River Mole, within a dark wood. It measures just 2x5metres.
While the view is lovely, living in this seemingly idyllic retreat under the employ of Hamilton was actually a hardcore endurance test.
And so, perhaps it won’t come as a surprise that the ornamental hermit – a ‘Mr Remington’ – did not complete his full term. In fact, he didn’t even complete his first month.
Around week three, he was found “less than sober” at a local inn, and never returned to Painshill.
Today, many 18th Century hermitages survive all over England, with a handful or so in Scotland and Ireland, too. Campbell’s book helpfully contains a six-page ‘Catalogue of Hermitages’ for anyone interested in visiting them.
A new newsletter
As well as being a writer, I’m also a maker, and an occasional picture-taker.
I read on Substack recently (but, annoyingly, did not save the link – if you recognise yourself in this sentence, please let me know) about embracing your messiness, your weirdness. That as creatives, we are rarely just one thing, and we shouldn’t feel like we need to compartmentalise the different ways that we express ourselves.
So, next Friday, I will send the first instalment of Vernacular/Nostalgia. It’s a new occasional newsletter that will allow me to put out into the world my embroidery and mixed media art, my photography, as well as some of my favourite archive finds.
I hope you will enjoy seeing what I have to share.