Category Archives: Sacred Places

No expense spared 1: Liverpool 8 churches

St Agnes' Church, Ullet Road, Liverpool

St Agnes’ Church, Ullet Road, Liverpool

A couple of years ago I spent a fascinating four days researching and photographing places of worship in suburban Liverpool, south of the city, to add to my ‘Liverpool’s Heritage’ lecture and study-day for NADFAS [the National Association of Decorative and Fine Arts Societies].

I found a whole collection of fabulous Victorian buildings, and met some particularly interesting people in the process.

One group of Anglican churches is the series founded by the Horsfall family over two generations.  Robert Horsfall commissioned the great Gothic Revival architect, George Edmund Street, to build St Margaret’s, Princes Road, in 1868, at least partly because the diocese was vehemently low church, and he wished to promote elaborate, Anglo-Catholic worship.  This magnificent building, sumptuously embellished with wall paintings and stained glass, much of it designed by Maddox & Pearce and Clayton & Bell, is much loved by the local community, but desperately short of funds.

Robert Horsfall may well have been provoked by the statement of his low-church younger brother George’s project to build Christ Church, Linnet Lane (1867-71), not far away.  This church, by William Culshaw and Henry Sumners, has an elaborately sculpted exterior and a much plainer, though costly interior.  Its peculiar gabled aisles are particularly difficult to keep watertight, and the parish apparently struggles financially.

Robert Horsfall’s son, Howard Douglas Horsfall (1856-1936), was responsible for St Agnes’, Ullet Road, opposite Sefton Park.  Designed by the architect of Truro Cathedral, John Loughborough Pearson, this large but outwardly modest brick church has a dramatic interior, like a miniature cathedral, rich in carvings, stained glass and alabaster.  Pearson’s aim, in his own words, was to design “what will bring people soonest to their knees”.

The controversies of the Victorian Church of England are difficult to grasp in an age when Anglicans fall out about female and gay priests and bishops.  The second vicar of St Margaret’s went to jail for contempt of court over a liturgical dispute with the first Bishop of Liverpool, J C Ryle.  There were serious fears that the consecration of St Agnes’ would be interrupted by “some disturbance” following “heated newspaper agitation”.  Within weeks of the opening, the first vicar of St Agnes was in disagreement with Bishop Ryle over “the illegal use of Eucharistic Lights, Wafer-Bread, the Mixed Chalice, the Agnus Dei and the hymn sung during Holy Communion” and waited twelve years before the bishop backed down.

All three of these superb buildings still house congregations, though the days of packed pews and arguments over ritual are long gone.  Rev Robert Gallagher, the former vicar of St Margaret’s, wryly observed, “the capital used for St Margaret’s beginnings came largely from Liverpool merchants’ involvement in the Transatlantic slave trade and down through grandparents’ bank accounts…an irony not lost on a parish that is now the heart of Liverpool’s black community.”

The Ship of Fools’ mystery worshipper describes the “pious gaiety” of St Agnes’ at http://www.ship-of-fools.com/mystery/2012/2330.html.

For details of Mike Higginbottom’s lectures on Liverpool architecture, please click here.

For details of Mike Higginbottom’s lecture Survivals & Revivals:  past views of English architecture, please click here.

Village of millionaires

Methodist Church, Overstrand, Norfolk, designed by Edwin Lutyens in 1898

Methodist Church, Overstrand, Norfolk, designed by Edwin Lutyens in 1898

The writer Clement Scott (1841-1904) first visited Overstrand by accident in 1883, staying with the local miller because there were no vacancies in Cromer.  He was so attracted to the quiet North Norfolk coast that he described it in a series of romanticised articles in the Daily Telegraph and elsewhere.  He called it “Poppyland“.

Five years later, when land for development came on the market, Overstrand rapidly attracted some of the richest people in Britain – a small colony of bankers and lawyers, most of them Liberal in politics, cultured and socially extremely well connected.  Part of its appeal was that it was not Cromer, by then regarded as popular, if not exactly vulgar.

At one time there were six millionaires in the village – among them Cyril Flower, Liberal MP and later Lord Battersea, Lord Hillingdon, one of the few Tories in the village, and the financier Sir Edgar Speyer who became chairman of the original London Underground.  Their holiday neighbours included Sir Frederick MacMillan, son of the founder of the publishing empire, Edward Lyttleton, headmaster of Eton, and the classicist Gilbert Murray.

Though these incomers lacked the landed status of earlier generations of Cromer-based bankers, Barings, Gurneys and Hoares, they knew how to spend money and they had taste.  The rising young architect Edwin Lutyens received two domestic commissions in Overstrand, The Pleasaunce (1888) for Cyril Flower and Overstrand Hall (1898-1900) for Lord Hillingdon.  Cyril Flower, as Lord Battersea, provided Lutyens with his only opportunity to build a Methodist chapel (1898).

Celebrated visitors flocked to stay with such opulent hosts.  Queen Alexandra visited the Hillingdons.  Lady Randolph Churchill, often with her sons Winston and Jack, stayed repeatedly with either the Speyers or with the powerful lawyer Sir George Lewis, who lived in the Danish Pavilion, which he’d transported direct from the 1900 Paris International Exhibition.  Sidney and Beatrice Webb stayed with Lord and Lady Battersea, whom they disliked, on a working break with their fellow Fabians, George Bernard Shaw and Graham Wallas.

The heyday of Poppyland was all over so quickly, killed – as much as anything – by the effect of the First World War.  After 1919 the millionaires moved away and died off, and by the mid-1930s all the major houses had been converted to hotels, nursing homes or apartments.  By that time the only major modern hotel in the village, the Overstrand Hotel, was at risk of sliding over the fast-eroding cliffs:  it eventually burnt down in 1947.

Overstrand remains an attractive and interesting place to visit.  It carries the implicit message that you can’t take it with you.

St Mary’s at the top of the steps

St Mary's Church, Whitby, North Yorkshire

St Mary’s Church, Whitby, North Yorkshire

St Mary’s Parish Church on the clifftop above Whitby, North Yorkshire, near to the prominent Abbey ruins, is one of the great architectural surprises of the north of England.  Its exterior is an odd jumble, basically a twelfth-century Norman church with wooden outside staircases, Georgian sash windows and dormers in the roof.

Its interior is a precious survival – one of the very few English churches left virtually untouched by the Victorians – a preposterous clutter of galleries and box pews, with a three-decker pulpit and a no-doubt much-needed iron stove.  Most outrageous of all, the Cholmley family pew is a balcony, spanning the chancel arch where the rood screen would be:  the eighteenth-century Cholmleys sat with their backs to the altar in order to attend to the sermon in a place of worship that eschewed ritual and functioned instead as a preaching-box.

Sir Nikolaus Pevsner’s description is unusually breathless:  “…when one enters it, hard to believe and impossible not to love…one of the churches one is fondest of in the whole England.  Whom do we owe the infinite gratitude of never having gutted it?”

Just as Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre on the South Bank in London offers an experience of Elizabethan theatre unlike any other in Britain, so St Mary’s Whitby harks back to a form of worship which Parson Woodforde, celebrating communion three or four times a year, would easily recognise.

Pevsner also realised that the proper way to approach St Mary’s is up the 199 steps from the harbour.  There are ways of reaching the church and the Abbey on wheels, but the trek up the steps – reflecting on the way what it must have been like to carry a coffin up the unforgiving gradient – is a part of the unique experience.

The 72-page, A4 handbook for the 2015 Yorkshire’s Seaside Heritage tour, with text, photographs, maps and a reading list, is available for purchase, price £10.00 including postage and packing.  To order a copy, please click here or, if you prefer, send a cheque, payable to Mike Higginbottom, to 63 Vivian Road, Sheffield, S5 6WJ.

Weekend in Singapore

St Andrew's Cathedral, Singapore

St Andrew’s Cathedral, Singapore

There’s something reassuring for a Brit about landing in a former British colony like Singapore.  Somehow, the footprint remains almost half a century after the Union Flag came down.

Not only are there evocatively British street names (Clive, Kitchener, Mountbatten), but the traffic drives on the left, the car-registration plates are distinctly British in shape and dimensions (mostly with the white characters on a black background that died out in the UK in the 1970s) and – most useful and endearing of all – the power-sockets are British square-pin standard, so there’s no need to fiddle about with adaptors.

It’s fascinating to discover, patched in between the mainly undistinguished post-war buildings, vestiges of the colonial past.

St Andrew’s Cathedral, for example, is an immediately recognisable, rather blocky Commissioner’s-Gothic Anglican church with a squat English-cathedral spire, painted in brilliant white, designed by Colonel Ronald MacPherson, a military engineer who could clearly turn his hand to any constructional task, and built by Indian convict labourers.  Opened in 1862, it became a cathedral in 1870.  Its aisles are dotted with generous memorials to men, women and children who spent their lives in this sticky, remote and dangerous place:  some died here;  others died back in Britain but were memorialised by the colonial community.

Rather more surprising is the Armenian Apostolic Church of St Gregory the Illuminator, a compact cruciform classical design of 1835, its original onion dome replaced by a gothic spire that sits incongruously on top of a pediment.  Its churchyard is littered with modern statuary, and the church itself is a compact circular space, with doorways open to breezes on three sides.

Elsewhere, British eyes lock on to the 1930s central fire-station which would look entirely at home in Birmingham and a Masonic hall, bristling with compass-and-square symbols.  A half-day city tour showed me that there’s much more to see than can fit into a jet-lagged weekend – every possible kind of place of worship, a carefully conserved Chinatown and a thriving Little India, all reflecting the polyglot energy of the place.

Singapore is a very comfortable place to be, if you can cope with the climate.  The only delinquency I saw was economic – touts trying to lure people into shops.  The policemen smile and greet visitors:  the only time I saw a policeman act aggressively was when a woman tried to cross the road instead of using an underpass.  The police apparently hand out tickets for good driving, with rewards a bit like air miles.

Posters exhort Singapore citizens to promote “graciousness”, and there are notices at the top of escalators reminding people to use the escalator “correctly”.  The Straits Times has the language and attitudes of a 1960s grammar-school magazine.

When I walked into the headquarters of the Singapore Cricket Club at eight o’clock on Sunday morning and asked, as is my habit, for a restroom, I was treated promptly and courteously – and it was an exceptionally fine restroom.  I wonder if I’d get away with that at Lord’s or the Oval.  I hope so.

Singaporeans are notoriously picky about litter:  in the hotel, a magnificent lady reception greeter in a split skirt and full make-up picked up specks from the carpet and fetched a cloth to wipe smears from the marble floor;  I even saw two men in a small boat sweeping the harbour.

And, they disapprove of tipping.

 

Abandoned but not forgotten

St Mary's Church, West Tofts, Norfolk:  reredos

St Mary’s Church, West Tofts, Norfolk: reredos

Last summer I was privileged to visit, with the Victorian Society during their AGM weekend in Norwich, the church of St Mary, West Tofts, in the midst of the Ministry of Defence’s Stanford Battle Area.

The 30,000-acre training site was cleared of its population in 1942, to provide a battle-training area in preparation for Operation Overlord, the Battle of Normandy which followed D-Day in 1944.  Six villages – Buckenham Tofts, Langford, Stanford, Sturston, Tottington and West Tofts – were emptied within four weeks.  Four of these settlements, Langford, Stanford, Tottington and West Tofts, had functioning parish churches at the time.

At the end of hostilities the villagers’ expectations of being allowed to return were denied, and still the area is sealed and in regular military use.  Indeed, a replica Afghan village, staffed – if that is the word – by ex-Ghurka soldiers and amputee veterans, was constructed in 2009 at a cost of £14 million to assist in the current conflict.  The site was also used as a location for outdoor sequences of the TV series Dad’s Army, which was set in nearby Thetford [see http://www.dailymail.co.uk/travel/holidaytypeshub/article-587698/Take-trip-Dads-Army-country.html].

Access to West Tofts Church is necessarily limited, and its isolation gives it an odd atmosphere.  West Tofts was of particular interest to the Victorian Society because it was restored in the late 1840s by the great Gothic Revival architect Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin, who rebuilt the chancel and added the quirky vestry and organ loft on the north side of the chancel, prompted by the wealthy parson, Rev Augustus Sutton (1825-1885), younger son of a Nottinghamshire baronet.

The transept contains an elaborate memorial to Sutton’s wife, Mary Elizabeth;  his more modest tomb lies in an external recess under the chancel wall.  The organ was transferred in the 1950s to the church of All Saints’, South Pickenham:  it has a spectacular organ-case, with leaves that open out in the manner of a triptych.

The likelihood of the battle area becoming safely accessible to the general public is virtually zero:  the military necessity remains and there is an accumulation of live ammunition.

There is a beautifully written and illustrated account of West Tofts and the other battle-area churches at http://www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/battlezone/battlezoneintro.htm.  Detailed accounts of the requisitioning of the Stanford Battle Area are in the excellent BBC WW2 People’s War series at http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/62/a3258362.shtml#top, http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/07/a3258407.shtml#top and http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/20/a3291220.shtml.

The BBC website has an audio-slideshow of another deserted village, Imber on Salisbury Plain:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-11345287.  [Further background on Imber is at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imber with a cross-reference to the entry on Tyneham, Dorset, at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tyneham.]

The Ministry of Defence discourages requests for access to West Toft Church and other sites in the Stanford Battle Area, and priority is given to those with a personal or family connection.

 

Gateway to a vanished abbey

Thornton Abbey, Lincolnshire:  gatehouse

Thornton Abbey, Lincolnshire: gatehouse

It’s natural to assume that our best historic buildings always were the best – that Chatsworth and Blenheim are among the finest English country houses, that Fountains, Rievaulx, Lindisfarne and Tintern are among the finest medieval abbeys.

That may be so, but not necessarily, because it’s hard to credit other great buildings that have vanished long ago and can now be judged only from contemporary illustrations or archaeological remains.

Thornton Abbey, in the very far north of Lincolnshire, is one such.  Its fourteenth-century gatehouse is huge – the biggest of all surviving monastic gatehouses in England – and particularly splendid, built of brick at an unusually early date.  It’s approached by a long barbican and was clearly designed to keep out unwelcome visitors.  Above the vaulted gateway are two substantial chambers, one above the other, and a warren of corridors and chambers, some of which would have been lavatories.  The roofline is shorn of its battlements, but the front still contains a number of lifesized statues.

This was the frontispiece of a powerful and influential institution.  When Thornton Abbey was dissolved in 1539 it was worth £591 0s 2¾d.

Yet when you walk through the gateway, there is little but fields to see.  The abbey church, of which only the foundations now remain, was 282 feet long.  All that remains is a section of the cloister and domestic range, with two splendid bays of the octagonal chapter house.  That tells us that this place was as impressive as the greatest surviving abbey ruins in England.

The church and most of the other structures had gone by the early seventeenth century, demolished by Sir Vincent Skinner, who “built a most stately house out of the same, on the west side of the abbey plot within the moat, which hall, when it was finished, fell quite down to the bare ground without any visible cause”.

Serves him right.

Thornton Abbey is an English Heritage property and is regularly open:  http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/daysout/properties/thornton-abbey-and-gatehouse.  Unusually, it has its own railway station with a regular two-hourly service from Cleethorpes:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thornton_Abbey_railway_station.

 

The Duke of Newcastle’s dormitory

Markham Clinton Mausoleum, Nottinghamshire

Markham Clinton Mausoleum, Nottinghamshire

Authoritarians have a way of undermining themselves.

The 4th Duke of Newcastle (1785-1851) was a clumsy politician.  Queen Victoria sacked him from the post of Lord Lieutenant of Nottinghamshire because he wouldn’t appoint magistrates he disapproved of:  “for though his integrity could never be suspected, his discretion was by no means remarkable”.

When his Duchess died giving birth to twins in 1822, he built the stern and chilly Milton Mausoleum at West Markham, Nottinghamshire designed by Sir Robert Smirke.  This project, which took eleven years to complete, became a lugubrious farce.  Known in the family as the “Dormitory”, it was intended to supersede the cramped family vault at Bothamsall Church, and was designed to accommodate 72 coffins.  It was also to serve as a replacement for the tiny medieval parish church of All Saints’, West Markham.

The fourth Duke himself was eventually buried there with his wife, but only fourteen members of the family lie in the vault, and the parishioners of West Markham abandoned its dismal isolation to return to their more homely church in the heart of their village.

Sir Richard Westmacott’s superb monument to the Duchess was carried off to Clumber Chapel, and later returned to its original resting-place where it remains.

The Milton Mausoleum is now in the care of the Churches Conservation Trust and can be visited:
http://www.visitchurches.org.uk/findachurch/milton-mausoleum-newark.  There is a description at http://www.mmtrust.org.uk/mausolea/view/134/Newcastle_Mausoleum.

Visitor-information for Clumber Park, including the Chapel, is at http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/clumber-park/.

For details of Mike Higginbottom’s lecture Victorian Cemeteries, please click here.

Apocalyptic visions

York Minster:  west front

York Minster: west front

John St John Long, the quack doctor who is buried at Kensal Green Cemetery, could have had an alternative, much less dangerous career.

One of his oil paintings, ‘The temptation in the wilderness’ (1824), belongs to the Tate Britain collection [http://www.tate.org.uk/servlet/ViewWork?workid=13062&searchid=25174].  Apparently, he spent the early 1820s as a painter of biblical subjects before turning to medicine.

His tutor was the apocalyptic painter, John Martin (1789-1854), a fascinating character who took time out of a commercially successful artistic career to support his eldest brother William’s career as an inventor, to join in the controversy over how to solve London’s sewage problem, and to care for his demented elder brother, Jonathan (1782-1838).

Jonathan Martin witnessed the murder of his sister, a trauma which he never overcame. At his confirmation he was “astonished at the wonderful size of the bishop”, and took to an abusive correspondence with clergymen, who tended to exclude him from their churches because of his antics.  He was for a time a Wesleyan minister, and was locked up for threatening to assassinate the Bishop of Oxford.

One missive began, “Blind Hypocrits, You serpents and vipers of Hell, you wine-bibbers and beef-eaters, whose eyes stand out with fatness…” and another made the more sinister prophecy, “You whitent sea pulkirs…your Gret Charchis and Minstairs will cume rattling down upon your Gilty Heads.”)

Perhaps someone should have kept a closer eye on Jonathan Martin.  On February 1st 1829 during evensong at York Minster he was apparently distressed by a buzzing in the organ, and concealed himself inside the building.  He started a fire, before escaping through a window, and succeeded in burning down the entire east end.  One of the bystanders remarked that the spectacle reminded him of one of John Martin’s canvases, not realising that the sight was the result of the artist’s brother’s work as an arsonist.

Jonathan Martin was committed to an asylum for the second time in his life, and remained there until his death.

York Minster suffered further fires in 1840, when a workman’s lamp set fire to the south-west tower, sending the bells to the ground “with a deep hollow sound” and gutting the nave, and again in 1984 when lightning set alight the roof of the south transept.

The south transept was restored by 1988.  Now there is a major campaign once again to safeguard the east end of the Minster.  See http://www.yorkminster.org.

The 44-page, A4 handbook for the 2009 Historic York tour, with text, photographs, and a reading list, is available for purchase, price £7.50 including postage and packing.  To view sample pages click here. To order a copy, please click here or, if you prefer, send a cheque, payable to Mike Higginbottom, to 63 Vivian Road, Sheffield, S5 6WJ.

Room at the top in Beverley Minster

Beverley Minster

Beverley Minster

Photo:  Harriet Buckthorp

One of the highlights of the Humber Heritage (September 17th-20th 2010) tour will be a roof-tour of Beverley Minster, one of the most beautiful churches in England.  The Minster came into being as a shrine of St John of Beverley, who was canonised in 1037, and rose from two disasters within a generation, the Great Fire of Beverley in 1188 and the collapse of the central tower around 1213.

You can stand outside the church and see exactly how it grew over the centuries:  the east end and transepts are mid-thirteenth century;  most of the nave is mid-fourteenth century but construction was interrupted by the Black Death in 1349 and the west front and towers date mainly from the fifteenth century.

It’s called a minster because, though never a monastery or a cathedral, it was run by a college of clergymen up to the time of the Reformation.  In Henry VIII’s reign it became simply a huge parish church, partly maintained by funds provided by Henry’s daughter, Queen Elizabeth I.

By the early eighteenth century maintenance had fallen back so much that the gable of the north transept leaned four feet outwards from the perpendicular.  That the church is still standing is to the credit of the architect William Thornton (c1670-1721) who, in 1719, built a huge timber scaffold against the leaning wall and screwed it back into the fabric of the building.

To appreciate the scale of the building, and to recognise the strength of Thornton’s work, it’s worth taking the roof tour, which involves a steep stair-climb but isn’t vertiginous, to look through the great rose window, to see how each wing of the building has distinctive roof-architecture, and to see close up the largest architectural treadwheel in England.

Thornton was understandably nervous about the stability of the central crossing, which had been a cause for concern for centuries, and which Nicholas Hawksmoor surmounted with a dome, now demolished.  From inside it’s clear that the stubby central tower is built of eighteenth-century brick, and incorporates a giant treadwheel that acted as a crane to bring materials to roof level.

It still works, and lifts the central boss from the crossing vault, providing a vertiginous and securely fenced view down on to the floor below.

It’s one of the most memorable experiences for miles around:  http://beverleyminster.org.uk/visit-us/tours.

The 80-page, A4 handbook for the 2016 ‘Humber Heritage’ tour, with text, photographs, maps and a reading list, is available for purchase, price £10.00 including postage and packing.  To order a copy, please click here or, if you prefer, send a cheque, payable to Mike Higginbottom, to 63 Vivian Road, Sheffield, S5 6WJ.

‘Buried Lives’ in Barton-on-Humber

St Peter's Church, Barton-on-Humber

St Peter’s Church, Barton-on-Humber

Barton-on-Humber is not Hull.

If King Edward I had not taken over the port of Wyke, where the River Hull drains into the northern shore of the Humber, in 1293 and turned it into Kingston-upon-Hull, Barton might be better known.

Nevertheless, the haven on the south bank of the Humber prospered gently through the centuries on the strength of its rich agricultural hinterland, alongside its downstream neighbour Grimsby, the great fishing port.  Maritime industries such as shipbuilding and rope-making continued well into the twentieth century, alongside other industries based on local products, such as brick-making and malting.

Following the excellent Barton-on-Humber Civic Society Town Guide reveals an attractive mix of prosperous eighteenth-century housing and dignified nineteenth-century public buildings.

But the real evidence of this town’s considerable antiquity is that, like Hull, it has two parish churches close together.  Indeed, until the early 1970s, both served the same parish.

St Mary’s, which remains the parish church, has fabric dating back to Norman times.  St Peter’s, however, has a tower that is unmistakably Saxon in style – with enormously thick walls and narrow internal arches, and exterior walls decorated with stripwork and triangular-headed windows – though its builders were more likely of Viking descent.  Two-thirds of the original church still stands, with a slightly later upper stage to the tower and a spacious medieval church repeatedly extended over the centuries.

Thomas Rickman (1776-1841), the architect who originated the terms ‘Norman’, ‘Early English’ and ‘Decorated’ to describe phases of gothic architecture, determined the chronological sequence of late Saxon and early Norman architecture on the principle of “structural stratification” visible in the tower of St Peter’s:  simply, the lower walls must be older than the upper stages, so if the top of the tower is recognisably Norman, the base must be earlier.

Since St Peter’s was deconsecrated it has been thoroughly investigated by English Heritage archaeologists, and now houses a fascinating exhibition of based on the examination of some 2,800 skeletons, most of which now rest in an ossuary on site while some, with intact coffins and grave goods, are shown as part of an unparalleled chronological account of the lives and deaths of Barton’s inhabitants entitled ‘Buried Lives‘.

Details of opening-times at St Peter’s Church, Barton-on-Humber, can be found at http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/daysout/properties/st-peters-church-barton-upon-humber.

In addition to their updated Town Guide (2009), price £3.00, the Barton Civic Society offers a series of free downloadable walks at http://www.bartoncivicsociety.co.uk.

The 80-page, A4 handbook for the 2016 ‘Humber Heritage’ tour, with text, photographs, maps and a reading list, is available for purchase, price £10.00 including postage and packing.  To order a copy, please click here or, if you prefer, send a cheque, payable to Mike Higginbottom, to 63 Vivian Road, Sheffield, S5 6WJ.