Monthly Archives: January 2025

Bridge over Brent

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Great Western Railway: Wharncliffe Viaduct, Hanwell, London

The rail journey from Paddington to Bristol tells the story of the start of Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s spectacular career as a civil engineer.  He was thirty when construction of the Great Western Railway began in 1836, and he barely stopped working until he died, worn out, at fifty-three in 1859.

The first major structure out of Paddington, the Wharncliffe Viaduct, carries trains 66 feet above the valley of the River Brent on eight graceful arches.

Otherwise known as the Hanwell Viaduct, it’s named as a compliment to James Stuart-Wortley, 1st Baron Wharncliffe (1776-1845), who chaired the parliamentary committee that considered and approved the passage of the Great Western Railway Act (1835).  His lordship’s coat of arms embellishes the south face of the viaduct.

Opened in 1838, it’s not the first major railway viaduct – George Stephenson’s Sankey Viaduct in Lancashire dates from 1830 – but it can claim a fistful of other firsts.

It was Brunel’s first major civil-engineering project, yet with audacious confidence he designed it as the first bridge in the world to have hollow piers, saving cost without sacrificing structural strength. 

The interiors of the piers are a favourite roost for colonies of bats, whose privacy is carefully safeguarded by naturalists.

Brunel saw the potential of Sir Charles Wheatstone and William Fothergill Cooke’s new electric telegraph, and persuaded them to lay down experimental telegraph cables alongside the track.  The system proved practical in 1839, making Hanwell the first viaduct in the world to carry a commercial telegraph.  The system was opened to the public in 1843.

This proved invaluable when a suspected murderer, John Tawell, was identified as he boarded a train at Slough and a telegraph message, describing him as “a Kwaker [sic] with a brown great coat on which reaches his feet” and locating his first-class compartment, was passed to Paddington station.  He was duly arrested when he alighted on New Year’s Day 1845.

Queen Victoria travelled by train for the first time from Windsor to London on June 13th 1842, and on at least one occasion is said to have ordered a stop on the viaduct so she could admire the view.

Brunel designed it to carry two broad-gauge tracks, and in 1877 a duplicate set of arches were added to the north side to carry a third line.  The abolition of the broad gauge in 1892 enabled the viaduct to carry four standard-gauge tracks. 

The viaduct continues to prove useful as technology develops.  It now carries transatlantic telephone and latterly fibre-optic cables and overhead power-lines to propel electric trains.

It became one of the first structures in Britain to be listed as a building of architectural and historic importance in 1949, and was commended by Sir Nikolaus Pevsner in The Buildings of England for its “architectural panache”:  its tapered piers are capped by stone cornices that carried the timber centering that supported the arches during construction.

The Wharncliffe Viaduct is easily accessible from Hanwell station, which is now served solely by the Elizabeth Line.  On arrival from London turn right out of the station and head towards the A4060 Uxbridge Road.  Continue away from London to Brent Meadow, an open space beside the Viaduct pub, which until Brunel came along was the eighteenth-century Coach & Horses.  Footpaths lead directly to the viaduct.

Exploring Turin:  Mole Antonelliana

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Mole Antonelliana, Turin, Italy

The tallest and easily the most preposterous building in Turin is the Mole Antonelliana, which towers over its surroundings and is visible from all quarters.

It’s named after its architect, Alessandro Antonelli (1798-1888);  the Italian word ‘mole’, which has two syllables, translates as “something of great size”.

The project began as a synagogue, initiated in the short period (1860-64) that Turin, as capital of the former kingdom of Sardinia, had become the capital of the newly united Kingdom of Italy.  The Jewish congregation wished to construct a place of worship that befitted the capital city.

For that reason they engaged Antonelli, who as a professor of the city’s Albertina Academy of Fine Arts (Accademia Albertina di Belle Arti) had built much in Turin.

However, it seems that when the capital moved to Rome in 1864 some members of the congregation followed it, reducing the numbers and the fund-raising capacity of those who remained in Turin.

Alessandro Antonelli had an obsession with building high:  given the opportunity he contrived structures out of all proportion to practical need, simply to make them prominent at a distance.  He provided a design to raise the campanile of the Basilica of San Gaudenzio in Novara, and if the Turin congregation had taken a close look at the Novara project they might have saved themselves much trouble. 

The basilica’s campanile was begun in 1844 but construction was interrupted by the First Italian War of Independence in 1848-49.  Antonelli proposed to extend the total height to 397 feet in 1855:  Alessandro Antonelli’s Basilica of San Gaudenzio — On Verticality;  Alessandro Antonelli cupola di S. Gaudenzio Novara – Category:San Gaudenzio (Novara) – Dome – Wikimedia Commons.  After continuing arguments over cost and stability, the cupola was resumed in 1881 and completed in 1887.  Concerns about its strength have persisted:  indeed, it was closed for ten years from 1937 for fear of a possible collapse.  It still stands, and is pronounced safe.

In Turin, the Jewish congregation set aside a budget of 250,000 lire for a design which, when Antonelli designed a dome and cupola rising to 400 feet, would cost 280,000 lire.  Construction began in 1863, but the architect’s further modifications, to achieve a height of 550 feet, exhausted both the budget and the clients’ patience.  Construction paused in 1869 with a temporary roof.

The congregation eventually walked away in 1876 when costs reached 692,000 lire, but Torinese civic pride dictated that this extravagant structure could not be dismantled at even greater expense.

The solution was to exchange the site of the Mole for a location in San Salvario close to Porta Nuova Station where the Jews erected the Great Synagogue (Tempio Grande) in four years flat (1880-84):  Torino-Sinagoga – Synagogue of Turin – Wikipedia.  Enrico Petiti’s Moorish exterior still exists, though the interior was bombed in 1942 and entirely replaced in 1945-49:  Great Synagogue of Turin – Tempio Grande – Synagogues360 (anumuseum.org.il).

The Mole was completed in 1869, the year after Antonelli’s death.

This huge edifice served as the Museum of the Italian Risorgimento (Museo Nazionale del Risorgimento Italiano) until the museum was relocated to the Palazzo Carignano in 1938.  Since 2000 it has housed the National Museum of Cinema (Museo Nazionale del Cinema).

Travellers in Italy who pay in cash may be familiar with the Mole Antonelli.  It appears on the two-cent Italian Euro coin:  Eur.it.002 – 2 euro cent coin – Wikipedia.

Cotton College

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Cotton College & St Wilfrid’s Church, Staffordshire

In the heady days following the Catholic Emancipation Act (1829), John, 16th Earl of Shrewsbury readily opened his cheque-book for schemes to further the cause of Catholicism in Britain.

He bought an estate at Cotton, a couple of miles north of Alton Towers in 1843.  It seems that he intended it as a residence for his nephew and heir, Bertram, and planned a road (only partly constructed) linking Cotton to Alton Towers.

His plan changed three years later, when the Earl offered the Hall to Father William Faber (1814-1863), who with a group of eleven followers had founded a community called the Brothers of the Will of God.

Father Faber was devout, energetic and incorrigible.  Always in uncertain health, he drove himself to accomplish God’s work, while following an erratic path from his Calvinist upbringing and his Anglican ordination to his conversion to Catholicism.

His small band of followers immediately began to construct, largely by their own hands, a Catholic church designed by A W N Pugin and dedicated to their patron saint, St Wilfrid, and a small school, even though there were no local Catholics apart from members of the Lord Shrewsbury’s retinue.

Though Pugin is always credited with the design, with its elegant broach spire, it’s unlikely that he had much to do with the interior:  he would have disapproved of the west gallery in which the choir sat until the late 1930s. 

Pugin intended the church to have “the only perfect chancel in England and with an East window he could die for” but it was never built.  The existing chancel and vestries were designed in 1936-37 by George Drysdale.

Faber felt strongly attracted to the Oratorians, an order firmly wedded to an urban ministry, and Faber resolved to leave Cotton to found what eventually became the London Oratory on Brompton Road in Kensington.

St Wilfrid’s Church was opened on Easter Tuesday, April 25th 1848, and in October of that year the forty Oratorians, led by Father (later Cardinal) John Newman, took up residence at Cotton Hall. 

Three months later, on January 30th 1849, they moved on to a disused gin distillery in Birmingham which became the basis of the Birmingham Oratory.

Lord Shrewsbury was not best pleased that Cotton had been abandoned, although a priest remained to continue the mission and the bishop confirmed 125 parishioners in October 1850. 

The Earl offered the Hall buildings to another religious group, the Passionists, who arrived on December 15th 1850.  They failed to settle at Cotton:  parish attendances rapidly declined – one writer described the locals as “loaves and fishes” Catholics – and the order failed to attract novices. 

The death of the 16th Earl in 1852 meant that financial support dried up, and by 1856 the order had moved on, heavily in debt, leaving the parish under the direct and remote supervision of the diocese of Birmingham and making the other Cotton buildings redundant.

The eventual solution was the transfer of Sedgeley Park School, a long-established Catholic institution dating from 1763, from its unsatisfactory premises on the southern outskirts of Wolverhampton. 

St Wilfrid’s Church and the preparatory department of the school opened on St Wilfrid’s Day 1868, and the rest of the school followed in 1873.  An initial building programme of 1874-75 was extended in 1886-87 and again in 1931-32. 

Financial pressure caused the closure of Cotton College in 1987.  Dry rot was discovered in the church in 2009, and the final Mass was celebrated on October 24th 2010.

The archdiocese stripped the interior of the Grade-II listed church so that it and the college buildings could converted to residential accommodation by the Amos Group:  St Wilfrid’s Church – Amos Group Ltd;  Cotton College – Amos Group Ltd.

Lives at the Edge

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Kirk Edge Convent boundary wall, High Bradfield, Sheffield

The high road from the northern Sheffield suburbs to the village of High Bradfield is called Kirk Edge Road.  Beyond the playing fields of Bradfield School, which are protected by a sturdy windbreak of trees, there is nothing but an expanse of green fields.  Until the 1950s this was heather-coloured moorland, yet it’s still both bleak and beautiful.

There are no roadside buildings.  Isolated farms, one of them called Spitewinter, are situated for shelter on south-facing slopes at a distance.  After about 1½ miles travelling west, a substantial stone wall encloses trees which hide the Kirk Edge Convent, a community of Carmelite nuns, which bears the formal title Carmel of the Holy Spirit.  (The name “Carmel” derives from Mount Carmel in Palestine, where the original founders of the order settled in the thirteenth century.)

It’s easy to drive past the place without realising it’s there.  The modest lodge at the entrance gives no information about its name or purpose.

There was nothing on the site when Henry, 15th Duke of Norfolk acquired the Kirk Edge estate in 1869 for the Sisters of Charity of St Vincent de Paul to set up a boys’ industrial school with the unrealistic aim of teaching them agriculture on a patch of uncleared moorland. 

The architect Miles Ellison Hadfield designed a building resembling a Parisian town house with high ceilings and large windows that was entirely unsuitable for a site eleven hundred feet above sea level on the edge of the Pennines.  It was completed in 1871 and later extended with a west wing and chapel in 1885, by which time it had become an orphanage for up to two hundred girls.

Water-supply was a problem:  well-water was hand-pumped to a tank in the roof space alongside a second rainwater tank, both of which froze solid in winter.  Gales blew slates off the roof and snow lingered for weeks.  The Duke of Norfolk provided coal, brought by cart from his collieries in Sheffield.  The girls left in 1887.

For a brief period in 1900-01 the Liverpool priest Father Nugent brought boys from his orphanage to Kirk Edge.  They too didn’t stay and the site remained unused except for providing summer holidays for poor Sheffield children until 1911 when the Duke, whose sister was a Carmelite nun, offered it to her order.

The Duke provided the nuns with improved facilities, including a new chapel, a windmill to pump the well-water and the boundary wall that provided the enclosure which their vocation required, but their living conditions were arduous until mains electricity was supplied in 1956 and mains water in 1964.

As far as possible the Convent was self-sufficient.  The sisters each maintained a patch of garden to produce fruit and vegetables, and grew flowers for decoration.  The Norfolk estate, and latterly a Sheffield businesswoman, provided food supplies, and the Convent attracted donations and discounts from the local community and Catholic supporters farther afield.

It’s difficult for people living ordinary lives, whether they’re religious or not, to understand the fervent attraction of monastic life in a closed order, free of distractions from focusing on the Almighty. 

A postulant who visited Kirk Edge in 2012 provided an online illustrated description of the sisters and their routine of worship, contemplation and recreation:  My Personal Visit Experience at Kirk Edge Carmel – Part I | Carmel, Garden of God and My Visit Experience to Kirk Edge Carmel – Part II | Carmel, Garden of God.

The inexorable decline in the number of postulants has obliged the sisters to close the Convent and move elsewhere, and the buildings are up for sale.  For the first time there are images in the public domain that indicate the quality of Miles Hadfield’s buildings, which are not listed:  28 bedroom character property for sale in High Bradfield, Bradfield, Sheffield, S6.

Whoever takes over the property will need a supply of shovels, grit and thermal underwear, without doubt.