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The low angle shows a curious, squat building nestling among trees. Strange arches of rough stone clasp the sides like tentacles. The exterior is covered with foliage but there’s a fanlight window in the roof and the glimpse of others amid the creeper. In the foreground a solitary headstone adds a funereal touch.
I am bewitched.
The most remarkable thing about the photograph, and still fresh in my memory, is that despite a bright sunny day the overall impression is one of sadness.
It seemed such a melancholy, forgotten, yet magical place that I felt moved to one day re-create it in miniature.
Oatlands Grotto. Source: Historic England Archive.
Such was my introduction to the grotto in Oatlands Park.
The view had been taken in 1937 by Herbert Felton. A professional photographer, Felton specialised in architectural subjects. During World War Two he photographed buildings thought to be at risk from bombing. Ironically, the grotto would outlive the Blitz only to be demolished – as hazardous – in 1948.
I resolve to visit the location at Weybridge. There’s still a Grotto Road and until 2012, a Grotto pub. But at the site itself, nothing. Its remains lie buried under modern houses and a school playground.
Jim Lindus-Forge was a local architect, one of a group of conservationists who tried to save Oatlands grotto from destruction in 1948. He meticulously measured the structure and drew up a plan shortly before the pneumatic drills got to work.
Nearly 75 years later I will use his plan to construct my model. This, together with contributions from garden historian Michael Symes and photographs held in the collection at Elmbridge Museum, provided the necessary information to begin work.
I now have a thick file of prints, copies of engravings, descriptions from the 18th century and commentaries on the fight to save the building, plus photographs taken even as the wreckers moved in.
Hand coloured print of Oatlands Grotto. (25.1967/3).
The grotto was built for the ninth Earl of Lincoln between 1762 and 1768. Further work was carried out between 1774 and 1778 when the most elaborate decoration was added. It was built into the side of a steep bank and Jim’s plan shows there were three chambers in the lower storey. These were underground at their rear and overlooked a lake at the front. From left to right these were the gaming chamber, the central or stalactite chamber and the bath chamber.
Entering by a hidden gate at the left, the visitor was led along a passage at the front and into the central chamber. Dimly lit by concealed windows this nevertheless presented a dazzling sight: dozens of stalactites, decorated in zig-zag patterns of glittering feldspar hung from the roof.
From here a curved corridor led past a fireplace and into the gaming room. This chamber was completely decorated with feldspar in geometric patterns.
The new Weybridge Museum gallery when it was opened in November 1967, showing the Oatlands Palace Statue of Venus on the left, the single heaviest object in the collection.
A corridor running along the rear led to the bath chamber. Elaborately decorated with shells of various sizes this contained a large, tiled bath. Standing in a corner was a statue of the Venus de Medici, now housed in Elmbridge Museum.
The upper chamber was reached by climbing one of two paths that led around either end of the building. Here a wrought iron gate at each side gave on to a ramp which ended at a balcony and the front door.
This room was the largest of all. Lit by large windows it was light and airy compared with those below. Stalactites, shells, feldspar and mirrors in the alcoves combined to create a shimmering fantasy.
Oatlands Grotto Model. © John Wilkinson
Jim’s 1948 plan provided the starting point for construction. Scaled up to 1:32 his drawing makes three-eighths of an inch represent one foot. This meant the model would be big enough to get good detail but not so big it wouldn’t fit in the car!
The basic framework is wooden and rigid plastic sheet. This is covered with fine aluminium mesh over which I applied papier-mâché. Fashioned to represent the rough exterior, this dries to form a very durable surface which is then painted with acrylics to look like the ‘tufa’ used on the original. I used modelling clay to make the stone arches and other decoration. I searched along the beach at Lyme Regis to find small ammonites for the exterior.
Oatlands Grotto Model (front view, minus decor). © John Wilkinson
The fanlight and circular window frames are brass. I copied the design using computer graphics and they were etched by a specialist company. The glazing bars of the front windows and door are self-adhesive tape.
Friends and family collected hundreds of small seashells for the interior. 3D printing reproduced the statues. The walls and dozens of balsa wood stalactites are painted in acrylic. The exterior has artificial lichen and moss added to show how nature eventually overran the grotto.
Oatlands Grotto Model. © John Wilkinson
Scale models have been used for centuries to help us understand and appreciate their full-sized counterparts. They do so in a manner no photograph or description can.
I built the model in stages between 2021 and 2025 and chose to depict the grotto as it would have appeared in the early 20th century.
I hope that this model gives a good impression of what this extraordinary building was like and conveys at least a little of the spirit and air of mystery of the original, so brilliantly captured in that black and white photograph.
John Wilkinson. July 2026.
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