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St. Mary’s Church: “An order came from headquarters to stop proceedings.”

Let me take you down the subway at the roundabout which links Eyre Street, St. Mary’s Road, Bramall Lane, and St. Mary’s Gate. Once you get into its tree-lined centre, stop for a moment, and consider that several decades ago you would have been standing in the corner of a  graveyard.

It is true.

The construction of Sheffield’s ring road required the widening of St. Mary’s Road and a roundabout. It meant that the graveyard at St. Mary’s Church was deprived of land, and where graves once stood, the subway has become a popular route for students and football fans journeying to Bramall Lane. Come down here at night at your peril because it is also the haunt of muggers and the like.

In a few years’ time, St. Mary’s Church will celebrate its bicentenary and where other big churches have faltered, it will be content that it still operates as a place of worship.

Let us start at the beginning.

The year is 1818 and to celebrate the recent end of the Napoleonic Wars, parliament passed the Act for Building New Churches, allocating £1 million for the task; the buildings that resulted were often known as the Waterloo churches.

The church was in crisis, a situation brought about by changing demographics and altering religious affiliations: the surge of the working-class population in major cities, especially in the north, and the drift to nonconformity.

The Church Building Commission turned to the government Board of Works, and its three advisory architects, John Nash (1752–1835), John Soane (1753–1837), and their junior, Robert Smirke (1780–1867), to set guidelines and advise on practicalities.

It stated that no church should cost more than £20,000, and by the end of the Commission’s term, in 1856, some 600 new churches would stand across the country.

In Sheffield, three churches were commissioned under the chairmanship of Rev. Thomas Sutton  of Sheffield’s Church Building Committee– these were St. George’s, Portobello, St. Philip’s, Netherthorpe, and St. Mary’s at Highfield.

St Mary’s Church was the last of the three to be built and was constructed on land that had been gifted by Henry Charles Howard, the 13th Duke of Norfolk (also the Earl of Surrey). The foundation stone was laid  by his wife, Lady Charlotte, Countess of Surrey, using an engraved silver trowel, in front of a huge crowd.

“With this trowel, Charlotte, Countess of Surrey, laid the foundation stone of St. Mary’s Church, Sheffield, 12 October 1826.”

The foundation stone contained a bottle in which were deposited coins and documents, but a few weeks later, a letter to the Sheffield Independent revealed that the stone had been removed the same night, and the bottle conveyed to the vicar’s house so that it would not be stolen.  

The country was amid depression due to suspended credit and impoverished markets and the cutlery industry had suffered badly. For this reason, workmen employed on clearing the site and preparing the foundations were ‘able-bodied and willing minded cutlers’ who had fallen on hard times.

Original sketch by J. Potter and J. Rogers. Image: Picture Sheffield

The church was designed by Joseph Potter (1756-1842), a Lichfield-based architect, who early in his career had been employed by James Wyatt to supervise works at Lichfield Cathedral, Hereford Cathedral, St Michael’s Church in Coventry (now St Michael’s Cathedral) and the rebuilding of Plas Newydd, a house belonging to the 1st Marquess of Anglesey. He was the County Surveyor of Staffordshire for 45 years, as well as an engineer for the Grand Trunk Canal Company.

Potter’s eldest son, Robert (1795-1854), supervised the works at St. Mary’s, and he developed an attachment to the town because he opened an architectural practise here and built his home on Queens Road.

Building work was undertaken by Thomas Henry Webster of Stafford and the last stone was laid on top of the pinnacle at the southwest corner of the 140ft tower in November 1828, the occasion marked by the rising of the Standard of England and two other flags.

The church needed a minister and Rev. Sutton, Vicar of the Parish, appointed the Rev Henry Farish, Tutor of Queen’s College, Cambridge, at St. Mary’s in July 1829.  

St. Mary’s Church. Clough Place in background. Image: Picture Sheffield

The church accommodated 2,000 people and had cost £13,927, the Church Building Commission covering the cost, as well as contributing £40 towards the cost of a bell in its tower. It was consecrated by the Archbishop of York on 21 July 1830.

However, its four-year construction had not been without its problems, but it took a letter to the Sheffield Daily Telegraph in October 1926, to reveal what had happened.

“By the original plan, the interior of the church was formed by two fine stone arcades into a handsome nave, with clerestory, and two side aisles, each vaulted, groined, and corbelled in stone. And the powerful buttresses, now on each side of the church, were built to take the weight and thrust of the internal vaulting. When the outside walls had scarcely reached the height of the parapet, an order came from headquarters to stop proceedings. It is supposed the million fund was about exhausted, but particulars were kept dark.

“This calamity completely stultified matters and new arrangements were made to finish the church with the least possible outlay. The result was the present lath and plaster imitation vaulting, supported by long thin cast iron props in lieu of stone pillars. This, I believe was the first and only instance of the use of cast-iron for such a purpose; its use here was owing to cheapness, and although these arrangements were a clever way out of a difficulty, they were always stigmatised by Robert Potter himself as an abortion and architectural curiosity, with which he disliked being associated.”

This revelation is backed by an old document that states that the plumbing, glazing, and imitation of stone on the walls and vaulted roof was by Robert Drury of Howard Street.

St. Mary’s Church had been in semi-rural surroundings. Its construction coincided with the growth of Sheffield, and once the old bridge over the nearby Porter Brook was replaced, the town expanded towards Little Sheffield, a hamlet that once stood in the London Road area that was swallowed up.

A lot has changed since then.

The west part of St. Mary’s was damaged by wartime bombing and was redeveloped by Stephen Welsh into a community centre in 1950. The division of the church was softened by APEC Architects in 1999-2000, who removed the 1950 work and created a new community centre of two floors and a mezzanine that filled all but the chancel and the two east bays of the nave, which is still used for worship.

At the beginning of World War Two, a decision was made to remove the stained glass windows and safely store them. Unfortunately, their location was lost until 2020 when Colin Mantripp, a wood carver from Buckinghamshire, bought what he thought was a box of fragments of stained glass at auction.

When he collected the box, it turned out to be an 8 foot by 3 foot wooden box full of 13 stained glass panels. The outside of the box had St. Mary’s scrawled on the side. After careful research, he discovered that the windows had come from St. Mary’s Church and offered to gift them back providing they could be put back where they belong. The church declined because it wouldn’t have been practical to put them back. The panels are probably from the east window, which was filled with a new commission by Helen Whitaker in 2008.

One of the missing 13 stained glass panels from St Mary’s Church bought by Colin Mantripp at auction in Buckinghamshire. Image: Sheffield Star

Finally, as already mentioned by a previous correspondent, let us remember Lily Hawthorne, who was a cleaner at St. Mary’s Church and was murdered here on December 4, 1968. There is plenty of speculation surrounding this tragic incident, but the facts are that Hugh Mason was tried at the Sheffield Assizes in January 1969 on a charge of murder and, after hearing the evidence of three doctors that he was suffering from mental illness, the jury found him not guilty by reason of insanity. He was admitted to Broadmoor Hospital and later transferred to Sheffield’s Middlewood Hospital in 1972.  

©2024 David Poole. All Rights Reserved.
All images / DJP /2024 unless stated.

Former interior of St. Mary’s Church. Image: Picture Sheffield
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Places

He asks if I’d noticed the dodgy character who’d followed us

We cut through an alleyway that had once been the driveway to Clough Place, a house that had once belonged to William Hall, a file manufacturer, and which stood on the left. A substantial portion of that house has been demolished, but a section remains at the end of Charlotte Road looking onto St Mary’s Road.

To the right is a narrow basketball court that was once part of the garden to the house and had been adorned with carefully planted trees and shrubs.

I tell my colleague that I call this stretch of footpath ‘death alley,’ not as a joke, but because this was where a Sheffield solicitor had been shot dead by two assassins. My colleague is shocked.

It is broad daylight but there is a dark and looming presence that is St. Mary’s Church, and which casts a huge shadow over everything.

We continue up the path to where it opens into the graveyard. A man walks his dog on a stretch of grass, oblivious that the ground beneath him had once been the final resting place of the dearly departed, the gravestones removed. People sit on benches and appear harmless, happier drinking from their cans of beer. This is now called St. Mary’s Church Park, still a pleasant place to sit amongst the few remaining graves, but there is menace around.

There is a man loitering under a tree and he moves towards us. I don’t want to alarm my colleague, but I tell him to keep walking. I’m used to situations like this, but the best option is to keep a distance.

We cross Clough Road and head into Chaucer Yard where there is a vintage clothes shop and coffee house. My colleague goes in search of a bargain while I remain outside and light a cigarette.

The man appears on the other side of the road and stares. I recognise him and stare back. This isn’t a street drinker but someone who will rob for a living. He decides that I’m too tall, too clever, or perhaps not worth the effort, because he turns and disappears.

I lean on the wall and see Bramall Lane at the end of Clough Road where there is a constant flow of traffic, people walking up and down, and not the place where misdeeds are going to happen.

A police car turns into the road and hovers outside the gates of St. Mary’s Church, before making a left turn and cruising slowly along its driveway and vanishing on the other side.

Two men appear at the end of the road and walk quickly towards me, all the time casting furtive glances at the church gates. In no time at all, they pass, but before disappearing around the corner into Countess Road, they look back to make sure that nobody has seen them.

Moments later, a female comes from Bramall Lane, a student, but she is being followed by two more shifty characters. She knows that they are behind her and when she is level, stops and pretends to look for something in her bag. The two men pass and turn into Countess Road. Her eyes are alert, glad to see the back of them, and when she smiles, I know that she is grateful that I was there.

I finish my cigarette and cross the road to where I can see through the church railings. The old graveyard is empty, the loiterers have disappeared, and the guy who I thought was a robber had gone. They have seen the police car and know that it hasn’t returned, and that danger lurks for them too.

When my colleague returns, we go for coffee, and he asks if I’d noticed the dodgy character who’d followed us. I tell him not to worry.

But there is an issue because we are only a stone’s throw from the city centre and all its problems.

St. Mary’s Church Park is a bolt hole for those wanting to escape something or someone and is also a suitable retreat for peace and quiet. I consider that the church is for everyone: fellowships of every denomination, no social class, where God’s love can be shared, and that should apply to the outside.

Days after writing this post, I return to St. Mary’s alone and take photographs. It is a fabulously sunny day, and the light makes the old church shine. There are cars parked outside and I remember that this is still a working church, the website would indicate a thriving one, but today the former graveyard is deserted.

I sit on a bench, take in the surroundings, and think that this is quite a picturesque spot, and that its troubles are no different to those elsewhere in the city centre.

At that moment, a robin descends and hops on the ground in front of me. I notice that the flagstones are really gravestones, laid flat to form a path. I take it as a sign that our descendants are still around, and, in the spiritual community, it might be a visit from someone dead whose gravestone is missing.

©2024 David Poole. All Rights Reserved.
All images / DJP / 2024

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Buildings

St Matthew’s Church – “Where thieves, prostitutes and urchins once scrabbled an existence nearby.”

St Matthew’s Church, Carver Street. Image/DJP/2022

It was an exceptionally cold evening, and the light was starting to wane, but this building stood out, magnificent against the clear sky, and all the time, a gentle warmth emanated from within its walls.

“I’ve never noticed it before,” said someone who has lived in Sheffield all his life. “When you think about churches in the city centre, you think about Sheffield Cathedral and St Marie’s. I would be hard-pressed to name others.”

I understood what he meant, but there are several churches besides, including this one, for which we will start at the beginning.  

There was once a piece of land extending from Carver Street to Backfields and separated from Division Street by a row of shops known as Division Street market. Houses stood upon this land – some of them notorious dens of vice – but by 1855, these had been cleared and a church built in its place.

In the early years of this century, Carver Street surrendered to change, with most of its historical buildings on its upper section with West Street converted into bars. Nowadays we refer to it as Sheffield’s ‘Party Street.’

Further down the road, where thieves, prostitutes and urchins once scrabbled an existence, life is quieter and simpler, and St Matthew’s Church is still with us.

Late at night, each weekend, Street Pastors congregate here before going out to care for those youngsters who have succumbed to the ‘demon drink.’

The Parish of St Matthew’s was created in 1848 when the original Sheffield parish (now the Anglican Cathedral) was subdivided. Its first Vicar, J.F. Witty, held early services at the National School on Carver Street (now Viper Rooms), but sufficient funds were raised to build a permanent church.

“Since I came to this district, at the invitation of my friend, Rev. T. Sale, Vicar of Sheffield, I have always looked upon it as a missionary appointment – as one calling for more arduous labours than any regular organised district or parish. When I see that there is a population large enough to fully occupy the time of three ministers – that the population is suffering from negligence of years past, and from deep-rooted prejudice and gross ignorance, the alienation of the intellect as well as moral pollution, I see that there is great labour ahead of me.”

The foundation stone was laid in 1854 by H.M. Greaves, of Banner Cross, who was presented with a silver trowel which had on one side a view of the proposed church, and on the other an inscription.

The church was designed by Flockton and Son and was consecrated on 6 June 1855 by the Archbishop of York, Thomas Musgrave.

It cost £3,297 to build, the main benefactor being snuff-maker Henry Wilson of Westbrook Mill who contributed £1,020. The Ecclesiastical Commissioners granted £200 and the Incorporated Church Building Society gave £250. The rest of the money had to be raised by Witty and his congregation.

St Matthew’s was described as in the perpendicular gothic style of architecture, consisting of a nave, chancel, and aisles, with a small gallery in the tower at the west end.

It abutted adjoining buildings which meant that it had to be lit solely from windows in the clerestory and those at the west end where an octagonal tower was built – the first in Sheffield – surmounted by a spire of 65 feet, making a total height to the top of the spire 121 ft.

St Matthew’s Church, Carver Street. Image/The Church of England
The West End showing the Goetz & Gwyn Organ installed in 1993. Image/The Church of England

St Matthew’s survived German bombs in World War Two, but many nearby houses were not so fortunate, and those that remained were later demolished. Without a residential congregation, its fortunes dwindled, surviving a fire in 1956 and the threat of demolition to make way for a new road in the 1970s.

Its circumstances have improved with houses and flats returning within parish boundaries, and there have been several restorations since it was built.

“I often think about those who built these old buildings,” said my colleague. “I wonder what they would think to see that their work is still here all these years later.”

I too, think about those people, long dead and forgotten, and it always provides pleasure to seek out those responsible, each with a story to tell.

Mason’s work, James Powell; carpenter’s work, John Dutton and William Heald; plumbers, John Johnstone; slating, Roger Brown; plastering Thomas S. Harrison.

The High Altar. Image: The Church of England
Two members of the congregation, brothers Edwin, 21, and Noel Inman, 18, died in the Battle of the Somme in 1916 and lived in the Parish of St Matthew’s Carver Street. Image/The Church of England
The Rood – In memory of Father G C Ommanney Parish Priest 1882-1936. Image: The Church of England
The Font. Image/The Church of England

©2023 David Poole. All Rights Reserved.

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Buildings

Attercliffe Parish Church – “Standing on a bold cliff which overhangs the Don.”

Christ Church, Attercliffe Road, from the River Don by Walter Revill. Described in early directories as standing near the bold cliff which overhangs the Don. Image: Picture Sheffield

We forget about Attercliffe, and so it is inevitable that we forget its lost buildings.

One example is Attercliffe Parish Church, also known as Christ Church Attercliffe, once a grand place of worship, badly damaged in the Sheffield Blitz of 1940 and later demolished.

And we might be forgiven for not knowing where it stood, but its site is plain to see.

Christ Church, Attercliffe Road. Image: Picture Sheffield/G. Bagshaw and Sons

We can turn to Pawson and Brailsford’s Illustrated Guide to Sheffield (1868) for details: –

“There is a handsome church at Attercliffe, which is about two miles from the centre of town, on the Doncaster Road. Formerly Attercliffe was a detached village, but now it is practically a busy manufacturing suburb of Sheffield. It was opened in 1826, having been built by means of a Parliamentary grant, at the cost of £14,000. It is a Gothic building, with lancet windows and a handsome groined roof. It will accommodate from 1,100 to 1,200 persons.”

The old chapel-of-ease of the Township of Attercliffe-cum-Darnall, dating from the 17th century, had been replaced by the new church.

Attercliffe, at that time, was a comparatively small place, and largely consisted of lanes and fields, and the new church was one of four churches built in Sheffield out of what was known as the ‘Million Fund.’

The nucleus of the building fund consisted of a grant from an indemnity paid to England by Austria after the Battle of Waterloo.

Christ Church, Attercliffe Road. Built at a cost of £14,000. Image: Picture Sheffield
Interior of Christ Church, Attercliffe Road. In 1867 the galleries were removed, and the interior reseated with open benches. Image: Picture Sheffield

The first stone was laid by the 12th Duke of Norfolk assisted by the 4th Earl Fitzwilliam in October 1822 and took four years to build. It was consecrated by the Archbishop Vernon Harcourt of York in 1826.

Early directories referred to the church as standing near the bold cliff which overhangs the Don.

“Time was when Attercliffe was a place of sylvan beauty and picturesque repose, of pleasant pastures and stately houses on the banks of a River Don whose waters were clear and transparent.”

“In the church, there are galleries on the sides and at the west end; which, with the pews in the body of the church, contain two thousand sittings. Some of the windows of the church are ornamented with painted glass, containing the arms of Fitzwilliam and Surrey, Gell, Milner, Staniforth, and Blackburn.”

The churchyard closed for burials in 1856 and a cemetery leading down to the Don was opened in 1859.

In 1876, the church was closed for cleaning and redecoration.

“Below the windows the walls are tinted puce, but above they are straw-coloured, with ornamental work above the windows. The groins are picked out in stone and the roof is coloured buff. White is the groundwork of the chancel roof, but other tints are introduced.”

The church didn’t forget the men who served in World War One, and at a cost of £300 a memorial was erected in the form of oak reredos and panelling together with remembrance panels framed in oak, bearing the names of all those who answered the call of their country.

By the time of its centenary in 1926, the parish embraced around 33,000 souls, but it was a different place.

“The mere mention of Attercliffe to those who are closely acquainted with it is scarcely calculated to send them into ecstasies of delight, for the very sound reason that Attercliffe has precious little that appeals to the aesthetic sense. Attercliffe and throbbing, thriving industry are – in normal times – synonymous terms, and when the clang and clatter, the smoke and grime of heavy trades fill the air, Attercliffe, from the casual visitor’s point of view, is a place to get away from rather than to remain at.

“Looking back upon a picture of a rural landscape, with its common (now filled with shops), its thatched cottages, and its sheep grazing on the riverbanks, the individual might well exclaim: ‘All this has changed.’”

The church was in debt for years, especially after the installation of electricity, and following the departure of Rev. A. Robinson in 1930, the church revealed that its finances were “vague and confused,” and that he had left a debt of £550-£600.

Unfortunately, the church was closed after bomb damage in 1940. Most of its contents were destroyed and Sheffield lost one of its finest churches.

Christ Church, Attercliffe, after bomb damage. Image: Picture Sheffield
Attercliffe Road – Christ Church after air raids. Image: Picture Sheffield
Carved detail from Christ Church, Attercliffe after air raid. Image: Picture Sheffield

The organ from the blitzed church was rebuilt and taken to St Andrew’s Presbyterian Church on Hanover Street.

The adjacent church hall became the parish church until 1950, and then functioned as a chapel in the parish of Attercliffe-cum-Carbrook until it was closed in April 1981. The new church of St Alban (Darnall) is now the parish church of Attercliffe.

In 1953, the site of the old church and its graveyard was turned into a garden, an area of pleasant green turf bordered by paths. It was opened by the Lord Mayor, Coun. Oliver S. Holmes, who said, “it was inspiration to the whole city that good will make beauty rise from the rubble of war.”

Attercliffe Garden of Rest (in the grounds of former Christ Church), Attercliffe Road from Church Lane with Christ Church Sunday School and No. 747, William Deacons Bank in the background. 1959. Image: Picture Sheffield

The church site and the garden of remembrance can be seen on Attercliffe Road, opposite the Don Valley Hotel. Access is available into old Attercliffe Cemetery behind and the Five Weirs Walk.

NOTE
A rare book, ‘The Church in Attercliffe,’ by Rev. Arthur Robinson, was published to celebrate the church’s centenary in 1926.

The site of Attercliffe Parish Church. Images: DJP/2022

©2022 David Poole. All Rights Reserved.

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Buildings

Autumn at St Mary’s Church

Autumn leaves are beautiful! God’s blessings are breath-taking! In the shadow of Bramall Lane.

It has seen joy, laughter, sadness, and tears. Life and death. And has witnessed murder more than once. There were those who tried to set it on fire, and German bombs virtually blew off its roof.

St Mary’s Church is one of three churches built in Sheffield under the Church Building Act 1818 (the other two being St George’s Church, Portobello and St Philip’s Church, Netherthorpe), and the only one still to be used as a church.

Built between 1826-1830 by Joseph Potter of Lichfield with the foundation stone laid by the Countess of Surrey. The construction was supervised by Robert Potter, his son, who resided in Sheffield during progress, and afterwards practised here as an architect for the rest of his days. It was consecrated on 21 July 1830 by the Archbishop of York.

© 2021 David Poole. All Rights Reserved

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Buildings People

A church in Madrid with Sheffield connections

St George’s Anglican Church in Madrid. Built in 1926

It might be out of the question now, but if you get chance to visit Spain’s capital city there is a Sheffield connection.

The answer lies in a tablet over the south door of St George’s Anglican Church, on the corner of Calle Núñez de Balboa and Calle Hermosilla in the barrio Salamanca district of Madrid.

It reads:

“To the memory of William Edgar Allen. Born March 30th, 1837. Died January 28th, 1915. By whose generosity, this church was completed A.D. 1925.”

William Edgar Allen is a familiar name in Sheffield history. In 1868, he founded the firm of Edgar Allen and Co, Imperial Steel Works, at Tinsley. Taking advantage of his knowledge of continental firms, he soon obtained extensive orders for foreign arsenals, dockyards, and railway companies.

Besides other donations, Allen gave, in 1909, the Edgar Allen Library to the University of Sheffield, contributed £10,000 to Sheffield hospitals, and founded, in 1911, the Edgar Allen Institute (in Gell Street) for Medico-Mechanical treatment, the first institution of its kind in this country. It proved especially beneficial during the First World War; a great number of soldiers having recovered the use of their limbs through the effectiveness of the treatment.

In 1913, Edgar Allen, staying in Madrid, asked Edward Mitchel Gibbs, the famous Sheffield architect at Gibbs, Flockton and Teather, to visit the Spanish city and draw up plans for a Protestant Church.

The church, in Early English-style was to have seated 150 people, funded entirely by Edgar Allen. Unfortunately, the estimates for the building amounted to £10,300, a larger amount than Edgar Allen had anticipated, and the plan was abandoned.

However, at the suggestion of the architect, Edgar Allen, who was in failing health, bequeathed a legacy of £6,000 for a new church to be built.

Edgar Allen died at Whirlow House two years later, and his bequest was put towards the building of St George’s Church, the church of the British embassy, completed in 1925.

Spain was a Roman Catholic country, and rules as to the building of churches other than those of the Roman Catholic communion, were strict. Because St George’s was built on the premises of the British Legation, such restrictions did not apply.

“The workmanship and material of the church throughout were the best, and everything was in excellent taste.”

St George’s was designed by the Spanish architect Teodoro de Anasagasti, who blended elements of the Spanish Romanesque style (cruciform plan, semi-circular apse, bell tower, tiled roof) and the characteristic brick-and-stone construction of the uniquely Spanish “Mudéjar” tradition with specifically Anglican forms.

The chaplain of the church was the Rev. Francis Symes-Thompson, who received a grant of £250 per annum from the Foreign Office.

St George’s Madrid

William Edgar Allen (1837-1915), Founder of the Edgar Allen Institute. (Image: Sheffield Teaching Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust/ArtUK)

© 2020 David Poole. All Rights Reserved.