Prolific inimitability: getting to grips with S.S. Teulon (1812-1873)

For many of the architects featured in this blog, single posts running to something in the region of 15 pages of copy is sufficient to give a reasonably comprehensive account of their careers. Further research might bring to light previously unknown works and thereby flesh out the picture, but is unlikely to yield anything that will change our perceptions greatly. With Samuel Sanders Teulon – who has already been mentioned in passing here more than once – the case is not so simple. He was a major figure, who designed prolifically and built throughout the country. His work has impressed academics and aficionados alike as being strongly, even rebarbatively individual. It is not architecture likely to leave observers indifferent. And yet for all the vilification and praise it has drawn as attitudes to Victorian architecture changed during the 20th century, we are still not much nearer to understanding why Teulon designed as he did, or indeed even able to assess his work on the basis of a comprehensive survey.

S.S. Teulon pictured in later life – the muscular Gothic style of the desk at which he is seated suggests that it was one of his own designs.
The climax and swansong of Teulon’s career: the church of St Stephen’s, Rosslyn Hill in Hampstead (1869-1873), now redundant and used as an events venue. Neglect during the long period when this building was derelict following redundancy in 1977, as well as chemical interraction resulting from his ill-advised combination of limestone and sandstone for the external arcading, caused serious decay to the elaborate carved exterior ornament, which is only now slowly being restored.

This is not to say that he has been ignored or underrated by architectural historians. Sir Charles Eastlake described at some length and with admiration Teulon’s final church of St Stephen’s, Rosslyn Hill in Hampstead, which was approaching completion at around the time that A History of the Gothic Revival was published. Nearly 100 years later, when the great re-evaluation of Victorian architecture was under way, Sir Nikolaus Pevsner and other authors of The Buildings of England series often dwelt on his buildings at length, recognising him as a name to conjure with. ‘The body of the church restored by S.S. Teulon, 1852-1853’, wrote Ian Nairn of St Margaret’s in Angmering in the first edition of the Sussex volume. ‘Experienced users of The Buildings of England will know that this is likely to be the most important visual fact about the church. It is: Teulon had a field day…’ Mark Girouard wrote equally appreciatively about him in The Victorian Country House, first published in 1971, including a detailed account of his remodelling of Shadwell Park in Norfolk.

The window lighting the organ chamber at St John the Baptist in Huntley, Gloucestershire, rebuilt in 1862-1863 at the expense of the then-rector, the Rev’d Daniel Capper, and described by no less an authority on Victorian architecture than H.S. Goodhart-Rendel as ‘one of the most interesting buildings in England’.
The font and north nave arcade at St John the Baptist, Huntley in Gloucestershire: the clustered shafts in polished marble to the piers of the nave arcade are structurally redundant, serving only to provide visual balance for the richly carved, overscaled capitals.

But no one has done Teulon a service as advocate for his work to compare with Matthew Saunders, the architectural historian and conservationist who until recently was Director of the Ancient Monuments Society and the Friends of Friendless Churches. His first work to appear in print – as far as I am aware – was The Churches of S.S. Teulon, which was published in 1982 by The Ecclesiological Society. It consists of a gazetteer of all Teulon’s known new churches and church restorations, prefaced by an outline of his biography and a brief essay on his style. Though aspects of the presentation have a slightly homemade quality and the black and white illustrations could hardly do justice to Teulon’s colourful architecture (something acknowledged by the author), the scholarship is first-rate and the book very well written. This was followed by a general survey of his life and work included in The Architectural Outsiders, a collection of essays by a range of authors on neglected architects of the 17th to early 20th centuries, which appeared in 1985. Matthew Saunders also contributed all the entries on churches by S.S. Teulon in The Faber Guide to Victorian Churches, published in 1989.

St John the Baptist, Burringham on the eastern bank of the River Trent not far from Scunthorpe in Lincolnshire (1856-1857), view from southwest: note the extraordinary boiler house flue emerging from one corner of the tower. This church is now redundant and in the care of the Churches Conservation Trust.
General view of the interior of St Stephen’s, Rosslyn Hill: after the church ceased to be used for worship, many of the fittings were sold off and what remained was either destroyed outright by vandals or severely damaged during a lengthy period of dereliction. Some were later additions, but the pulpit and lectern, of which only the bases now survive, were Teulon’s work. The capitals of the nave arcades were executed by Thomas Earp. One was donated by Teulon, another by his friend and fellow-architect, Ewan Christian. The mosaics in the apse were the work of Salviati.

Background and training

So there is a firm foundation, and it is thanks to Matthew that we know plenty about Teulon’s personal circumstances. The surname implies French heritage and his ancestors were Huguenots, just like Robert Lewis Roumieu. Teulon’s family was involved with the French Hospital originally known as La Providence, for which Roumieu designed new premises in south Hackney. Several members in past generations were directors, and both Samuel Sanders Teulon and his brother, William Milford Teulon (1823-1900), who also went into architecture, served as trustees. The family was comfortably circumstanced. One branch of it owned an estate at Limpsfield Common in Surrey, and Samuel’s parents resided at Hillside, a Georgian mansion in Greenwich on Crooms Hill – the exclusive and fashionable street which leads up from the centre of the town towards Blackheath. His father, also called Samuel, was a cabinet maker and upholsterer, who later on in life had turned to surveying.

Teulon the artist: the basilica of San Zeno in Verona, as sketched by the architect, probably during his European tour of 1841-1842. The influence of this building re-emerges in a fantasy design for rebuilding the church of St Paul in Sandgate, Kent – a close neighbour of Enbrook, pictured below. (RIBA Collections)
Teulon’s sketchbook from his European tour of 1841-1842 includes a view of the centre of Ghent, which raises the possibility that he had seen for himself there a building whose influence is explicit in a number of important designs for urban churches – the 14th century Dominican church, the south elevation of which is seen here. The Order attached great importance to public sermons, and to this end the church was constructed with internal buttresses, which allowed for an immense vessel spanned by a single timber barrel vault and thus unencumbered by any intermediate supports that might block views of the preacher. This provided an excellent historical precedent for reinterpretation as a modern Protestant auditory church. It seems that Teulon tried out the idea in an unexecuted design of 1853 for rebuilding Christchurch, Blackfriars Road in Southwark, but it was first realised at Holy Trinity, Hastings (designed 1857), which also reproduces the model most closely, with internal buttresses and prominent transverse gables to each bay of the south side of the nave. Variants of the aisleless plan were used again for St Thomas’s, Westminster Bridge Road in Lambeth (1856-1857, demolished in 1961 after war damage), the original and short-lived St Thomas’s, Agar Town (see illustration below) and St Paul’s, Avenue Road in Hampstead (1858, demolished in 1958-1959 after war damage). Though the conventual buildings survive, the Dominican church does not. After the friars abandoned the complex in 1822, it was used for a while as a warehouse, but by then was in such poor condition that it was demolished in 1860.
Teulon the draughtsman: one of a set of contract drawings recently discovered and identified for the first time, detailing Teulon’s remodelling of Holy Trinity in Leicester, carried out in 1871. The last of a series of what he termed ‘recastings’ of Georgian auditory churches, the starting point in this instance was a building of 1838 by Sydney Smirke (1797-1877), whose low-pitched roofline is indicated on this drawing by a dotted line. The church occupies a prominent location at the intersection of King Street and Regent Road in a neighbourhood of stately late Georgian and Victorian middle-class housing. Teulon gave it greater prominence in the townscape by adding a steeple based on the southwest tower of Chartres Cathedral, flanked by staircase towers serving the galleries with tall hipped roofs. Note the tumbled brickwork of the set-offs to the buttresses – a favourite device.

Teulon began his training as a student of the drawing school at the Royal Academy. It was an auspicious time to study there, since both John Soane and J.M.W. Turner could conceivably have been among his teachers. Whether he came into contact with them and, if so, what influence they exerted remains to be discovered, but there is no doubt that Teulon was an artist of considerable ability, as shown by the sketchbooks now in the RIBA collection which illustrate his travels around Britain and continental Europe. The latter were conducted in 1841-1842 in the company of fellow-architect Ewan Christian (1814-1895), who became a lifelong friend.

The garden front of Wetheringsett Manor in Suffolk – originally built in 1843 for the then-rector, the Rev’d Robert Moore, but sold into secular ownership just 20 years later, when it acquired its present name and was sympathetically enlarged. Note the crystalline forms of the extraordinary combined chimney stacks and bellcote, a foretaste of a signature trait of Teulon’s mature style. (Photograph taken with kind permission of Wetheringsett Manor School.)
The former mechanics’ institute on South Street in Manningtree, Essex, an essay in Teulon’s early neo-Jacobean manner: built in 1849, it served its original function only until the beginning of the 20th century, and in 1906 was purchased by the Mistley Masonic Lodge to serve as their hall, which it remains to this day. The oriel between the two doorways lit the reading room, the monitor roof visible behind a lecture theatre.

Teulon acquired his grounding in construction and architecture from George Legg (1799-1882) and George Porter (c. 1796-1856). Little is currently known about the career of the former, other than that in 1844 he became district surveyor to Belgravia and Pimlico. The latter also practised the professions of both surveyor and architect. His office was in Bermondsey, where he laid out part of the West Estate, and in 1824 he became District Surveyor for Newington and North Lambeth. It seems that his professional practice also took in a measure of civil engineering, since in 1825 he had been engaged to widen the medieval Town Bridge over the River Wey in Guildford (destroyed by flooding in 1900). Insofar as can be judged from his few surviving works, he seems not to have been dogmatic about style, as was typically the case with architects of that generation. The front that he added in 1830 to the mother church of Bermondsey, St Mary Magdalen, is Georgian Gothick, while the buildings for the London Leather Company (at any rate, going by what has survived of the complex to the 21st century) were in a spare classical manner typical of much industrial architecture of the time. At the almshouses for the Watermen’s Company in Penge, built in 1840-1841, Porter employed the free Tudor Revival popular during that decade for institutional and public buildings.

Perspective view of the proposed remodelling of Perry Hall (formerly Staffordshire, now West Midlands) for the 4th Lord Calthorpe. This may be the basis of a presentation drawing exhibited by the architect at the Royal Academy in 1850. Though Teulon carried out alterations to this house in an Elizabethan style to harmonise with the original fabric of the 1560s-1570s, the porch spanning the moat was cut down to the single story in execution and the tall tower was destined to remain on paper. All was lost when the house was demolished in 1929. (RIBA Collections)
The Browne and Wingrave almshouses in South Weald outside Brentwood in Essex: originally founded in 1567 by Sir Antony and Joan Browne, this institution was effectively reestablished under new statutes in 1851 and doubled in size. In 1854, new accommodation was erected to a design by Teulon to provide 10 dwellings for five men and five women. This is Teulon in the same mode as at the Thorney post office, pictured below – earnestly Puginian, but not averse to self-consciously picturesque touches, such as the deep eaves that ‘kick up’, and the complex is deftly planned and composed to exploit the fall in the land across the site. Note the delightful well house, which bears a prominent carved inscription running beneath the eaves from Proverbs 17:13: ‘The beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water: therefore leave off contention, before it be meddled with’. The chapel in the centre originally had a tall bell cote straddling the ridge, which was removed in the mid-20th century after suffering storm damage, but otherwise survives intact with its original fittings. The initiator of the project seems to have been the Rev’d Charles Belli, who was vicar from 1823 to 1876 and carried out an ambitious building programme during his long incumbency. He commissioned Teulon to design a school, built on a site almost opposite in 1856 (demolished in 1968) and to enlarge and remodel the medieval church, which was carried out in 1867-1869.
Huntley Manor in Gloucestershire: this property belonged to the Probyn family, who leased it to Daniel Capper, rector of the parish. He employed Teulon to rebuild the house at the same time as the architect was involved at the church. But Capper resided there only for a short time after work was completed, and in 1866 exchanged the house for another property belonging to the same freeholder. Note the geometrical patterning of the slate roofs.

As early as 1835, while presumably still a trainee in Porter’s office, Teulon had entered a design in a competition for a new town hall and market complex in Penzance, Cornwall. This had been produced jointly with Sampson Kempthorne (1809-1873), a fellow alumnus of the Royal Academy Schools who soon afterwards became architect to the Poor Law Commissioners and developed a line in workhouses. The same year Teulon married Harriet Bayne with whom he had six sons (two of whom died in infancy) and four daughters. In 1836, he produced a design for baths at Lee in southeast London and the following year a scheme for a county hall and law courts at Ipswich in Suffolk. Neither was realised, but by 1838 he was sufficiently confident of his ability to enter independent practice and executed his earliest known commission, the remodelling of Tensley Villa in Limpsfield, Surrey for Thomas Teulon (1764-1844). A view of the Penzance scheme was shown at the Royal Academy, as was his winning entry in a competition held in 1840 for new almshouses for the Dyers’ Company on the Balls Pond Road in Islington. This was a pretty Tudor Gothic design, still essentially Georgian in spirit (it was symmetrical and might just as easily have been decked out in classical detail) and gave few hints of what Teulon would go on to do. It had a certain kinship with the Watermen’s Almhouses, and indeed around this date Teulon was busy helping his former teacher with that commission. In 1846, he moved to an address on South End Green in Hampstead named Tinsleys, where he lived for the remainder of his life.

Stained glass by Lavers and Barraud in the great hall at Elvetham Hall depicting the visit to Winchester in 1522 of Henry VIII and Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. The monochrome drawing with sparing highlights in gold was an innovation of Teulon’s. Examples in an ecclesiastical setting are numerous, but the extent of its use for secular commissions awaits discovery.

The start of independent practice

It is perhaps worth dwelling on Teulon’s architectural training, for although there is much to suggest that it was thoroughgoing and highly professional, there is nothing here which necessarily predisposed him to be the ecclesiastical specialist that he went on to become. He would conceivably have been equally well placed to carve out a niche for himself in residential or commercial work. Yet he went on to produce designs for 114 ecclesiastical commissions – new churches, remodellings and restorations, to say nothing of his numerous vicarages and church schools. The Teulon family was apparently strongly Evangelical in its churchmanship and it is clear, as will be touched on below, that the architect moved in circles that shared his sympathies. But this is an aspect of his life that requires more detailed study than it has hitherto received before one can begin to draw any conclusions about how it might have influenced the nature of his architecture. Goodhart-Rendel regarded Low Church Anglicanism as the milieu which promoted in the ecclesiastical sphere the idiosyncratic and wilful brand of revived Gothic of the 1850s and 1860s, whose practitioners he identified as ‘rogue architects’. He counted among them Enoch Bassett Keeling and Joseph Peacock. It is tempting to explain the highly individual nature of Teulon’s mature style as the result of employment by a clientèle for whom received notions of architectural propriety based on archaeological correctness were not an overriding concern.

Teulon in Puginian mode: the former post office and constable’s house on Abbey Place in Thorney, Cambridgeshire, erected c. 1848 when the 7th Duke of Bedford engaged the architect to lay out an estate village around the remains of the Benedictine abbey, whose lands had been granted at the Dissolution of the Monasteries to the 1st Duke.
Balusters to the lower flight of the main stair at Wetheringsett Manor of 1843 (Photograph taken with kind permission of Wetheringsett Manor School.)

In some cases the link would seem to be explicit, such as the extraordinary monument of 1866 to William Tyndale, translator of the Bible, commissioned by the second Earl of Ducie and raised on a splendid hilltop site at North Nibley in Gloucestershire. The roundels of Protestant reformers in the spandrels of the nave arcade at St Stephen’s, Rosslyn Hill also require little comment. But Teulon was nothing if not consistent, and while the implications of his architectural language may be clear enough in church design, when it is applied to country houses or model cottages, no such obvious conclusions invite themselves. All that can be said for the time being is that the thesis that architectural licence equates to Evangelical sympathies needs to be tested in each instance. Such sympathies were perhaps more in need of badges of allegiance than a thoroughgoing aesthetic and may ultimately be of more use in explaining how Teulon won his commissions than how they came to look as they did.

St Peter’s in Great Birch, southwest of Colchester in Essex: the imposing dimensions of the church (the spire rises to 110ft/34m) were due to the munificence of Charles Gray Round of Birch Hall (d. 1867), who paid for this replacement of a medieval predecessor on a grand scale. Always too large for the tiny estate village that it served, it has been redundant since 1990, is now in a parlous state and, following the failure of the latest of several attempts to find a new use, is likely to be demolished.
The now former rectory of 1854 in Upper Broughton, Nottinghamshire, a village located to the northwest of Melton Mowbray: though it postdates its counterpart at Wetheringsett pictured above by just ten years or so, Teulon’s domestic design has changed dramatically during the intervening period. Symmetry is consciously eschewed in the planning and elevations, and neo-Tudor has been abandoned for a punchy idiom that is unmistakably High Victorian. The commission was to have been undertaken in parallel with the restoration of the adjacent church of St Luke, but it seems that Teulon’s extensive scheme of alterations was either never carried out, or else executed in much reduced form. (Postcard, author’s collection)

Teulon’s practice took a while to build up momentum and for the first 10 years or so he was busy with commissions for rectories and churches mainly in Suffolk, Norfolk and Lincolnshire. This period in his career has attracted comparatively little interest from architectural historians, but it is worth pulling out a few buildings to discuss briefly for what they reveal about his development. Wetheringsett Manor (formerly the rectory) of 1843, located in mid-Suffolk to the north of Stowmarket, is a large Tudor Gothic house in white brick with stone dressings, its garden front symmetrically composed. Winston Grange (formerly the vicarage), its exact contemporary located only a short distance to the southeast in the same county, is a different strain of the same breed – Tudor Gothic, only this time asymmetrically composed, constructed of red brick and with crow-stepped gables embodying a tradition of the locale in domestic architecture of the period that it emulates.

The Tyndale Monument of 1866 outside North Nibley, Gloucestershire: Teulon’s synthesis of an obelisk with a Venetian campanile allowed the monument to be expressed as a single, immense sculptural form, 111ft (34m) in height, while at the same time providing architectural expression for the uppermost storey. The former was essential to allow the monument to command all the long-range views taking in its elevated location on Nibley Knoll, in which no fine detail would have been visible; the latter was necessary in view of the covered platform, from which viewers who ascend the spiral staircase running up the middle can enjoy views stretching as far as the Severn Bridge and the Black Mountains.

Teulon the church architect

The east elevation to Kipling Street of St Paul’s Church in Bermondsey of 1848, pictured probably in the late 1950s/early 1960s: the upper two thirds of the spire had already been dismantled and the entire church would be gone by 1963. (Historic England)

At their simplest, Teulon’s new churches from this period are plain, lancet-style designs with little embellishment. More ambition is evident in buildings such as St Michael’s in East Torrington near Market Rasen (1848-1850), with its well detailed Decorated tracery and powerfully modelled west wall and bell cote, or St Mary’s in Riseholme, just to the north of Lincoln (1850), where the tracery is turning curvilinear and the patronage of Bishop John Kaye allowed for an interior of some sumptuousness. Or take St Peter’s, Great Birch in Essex of 1849-1850, the very image of a large, early Victorian church – a nave with two broad aisles, deep chancel and tower with a tall spire. All of the buildings examined so far are carefully designed, well detailed and imaginative, but they are of interest primarily as good period pieces. Most of what is here could easily have been cribbed from R.C. Carpenter or one of the other Puginian Goths. They do not yet embody the strongly individual architectural personality that made Teulon’s reputation.

The font at All Saints in Icklesham, East Sussex, introduced by Teulon as part of his restoration of 1848-1849
St John the Baptist, Netherfield, East Sussex (1854-1855): the upper part of the bell tower and clock face
Detail of the superlative carving of the reredos at St John the Baptist, Netherfield in East Sussex – the decorative scheme is based on the theme of flowers mentioned in Scripture. Thomas Earp is known to have carved the capitals of the chancel arch, but his involvement with any other part of the building remains to be attested.

It is difficult to reconcile the architect of these buildings with the image that Teulon established for himself with his later work. Exactly when his manner became wilful and acerbic is difficult to pinpoint, and it was probably a gradual process rather than a sudden change. That seems to have begun right at the end of the 1840s and to have been in full flood by the middle of the following decade. It is significant that it was around this date when Teulon began to be lambasted in The Ecclesiologist. Its anonymous reviewers acted as arbiters of architectural and liturgical rectitude, establishing canons of taste generally founded on the work of practitioners in the service of the High Church party that it represented. Teulon’s Evangelical sympathies have already been mentioned; many of his buildings were designed for Low Church worship rather than the revived ritual of the Middle Ages, and this alone would have been enough to raise the heckles of The Ecclesiologist’s reviewers. St Paul’s in Bermondsey, completed in 1848, drew flack for being fitted with galleries – it was essentially a preaching box. It was criticised also because only the tower and east end of the building, which fronted the main thoroughfare of Kipling Street, were finished in stone, the rest being plain stock brick, the kind of sham that was viewed as the currency of lapsarian Georgian architects

St Giles’s Church, Uley in Gloucestershire, built in 1857-1858 to replace a dilapidated medieval predecessor. Like Netherfield, it exemplifies Teulon’s angular, spirited handling of Middle Pointed Gothic. The upper stages of the tower are, perhaps, a homage to the pierced crowns and openwork belfry windows of the Perpendicular Gothic towers of the locality.
Holy Trinity, Hastings in East Sussex, artist’s impression by W.E. Hodgkins published in The Builder of 20th June 1857: work started on site the following month and the building was completed in 1862, but the mighty tower got no further than the lowermost stage, which incorporates a porch. The debt to the Dominican church in Ghent is very clear in the north elevation of the nave with its transverse gables, but that building had (latterly, at any rate) a flat east end, whereas a polygonal apse was aesthetically a better fit for the awkward urban site at the angled junction of two streets. Matthew Saunders claims that this was based on the apse of St Pierre at Caen, which Teulon had seen on his travels, but the influence is not entirely clear, since that had a two-storey elevation with an ambulatory, and needed to be translated from Flamboyant Gothic to Teulon’s distinctive brand of Geometrical Decorated. The Ecclesiologist reported that the crow-stepped gable visible in this view, which marks the junction of the nave and chancel, had been borrowed from the west front of the Frauenkirche in Nuremburg. It was omitted in execution.
Looking north west across the south aisle and nave at Holy Trinity, Hastings: the grand entrance through the tower porch brought worshippers into the church at its southeastern corner. Teulon exploited this unusual entrance route to achieve a dramatic coup de théâtre. After passing through the porch, one is directed through a narrow passage which turns out to belong to a kind of church within a church – a side chapel with its own nave, aisles and clerestory, all tucked in underneath the organ chamber on the south side of the chancel – and then on emerging from this confined space, the huge expanse of the nave and south nave aisle suddenly and dramatically reveals itself. Note the deep recesses around the windows on the north side of the nave, the result of the use of internal buttresses – another device borrowed from the Dominican church in Ghent.

Yet the politics of churchmanship cannot wholly explain the lack of favour. Detailed research would be needed to corroborate such an interpretation, but one begins to get a sense from some of the comments that the problem ultimately was that Teulon’s work was perceived as tacky, vulgar and meretricious. The Ecclesiologist concluded about St Paul’s that there was ‘a pretence about the whole design which makes it far more repulsive to us than a church which is honestly cheap and bad’. Teulon’s proposal to remove the catslide roofs spanning both nave and aisles and to reinstate a clerestory in his restoration of the medieval church of All Saints, Icklesham in East Sussex of 1848-1849 seems to have been viewed as an attempted imposition of questionable taste: ‘We had not much opinion of Mr Teulon’s ability but we were not prepared to see him… so wantonly destroying a feature of extreme singularity and picturesque effect in an ancient church’. Christ Church, Croydon, completed in 1852, was dismissed as ‘mediocre’ (although as Matthew Saunders points out, the adjective was employed frequently and indiscriminately by the publication) and criticised for the mean planning of the apse and flimsy, slapdash detailing.

Christ Church on Copse Hill in Wimbledon was built in 1858-1859 to serve a new middle-class suburb. Though stately and with considerable presence, it was an economical building, providing just short of 600 sittings at a cost of only £3,425. This is one of the first of Teulon’s churches to embody his favourite configuration of a bell tower placed over the chancel. The architect’s hand also reveals itself in details such as the rose window recessed behind a cusped opening beneath the belfry stage of the tower and the pointed quatrefoils in the side wall of the porch. The stair turret incorporating a chimney may be a later addition; if it is, it shows admirable sympathy for Teulon’s aesthetic.
General view of the interior St John the Baptist, Burringham in Lincolnshire (1856-1857), demonstrating the dramatic contrast between the lofty, light-filled space of the tower and the much darker nave and chancel.
Teulon’s original design for the church of St Thomas, Agar Town in Camden, as published in The Builder of 5th June 1858: the building on the right was to be the parish school and was intended to serve as a worship space until the church was ready. The foundation stone had been laid the previous year, and construction must have been well advanced by the time this report appeared. The foundation stone of the church was laid just almost exactly one year after the publication date, but soon afterwards the site was purchased by the Midland Railway for the construction of its London extension into St Pancras station and cleared. Teulon provided a new design for the church, which went up on a site on nearby Wrotham Road and was eventually consecrated in 1863.

In two of the works named above, one sees the germs of Teulon’s mature style in his bold and licentious handling of motifs and devices ostensibly drawn from the architecture of the Middle Ages. At Icklesham, every other roof truss in the nave (the proposed clerestory was eventually omitted) is supported on wooden colonettes modelled like detached stone shafts – presumably a purely aesthetic mannerism, since the secondary trusses that alternate with them extend downward no further than the springing of the arch brace. All of them, however, rest on corbels with rich, deeply undercut foliate carving, which is employed too for the extraordinary font with overlapping trefoils wrapped around the bowl. The west porch is a highly picturesque hexagonal form. At Bermondsey, the east window was filled with spidery tracery, while a powerfully modelled polygonal stair turret was positioned at the junction of the chancel and bell tower, one of the corner buttresses running over its steeply pitched roof and down one of its faces – again, caprice was at play, rather than archaeological correctness or structural logic.

The spire of St Thomas’s Church in Wells, Somerset, constructed during the first phase of building works in 1856-1857. It rises to a height of 148ft (45m). Note the use of banding in a different coloured stone to create structural polychromy, the figures of the Evangelists positioned on the set-offs to the buttresses and the complex geometry of the upper stages, where the transition from a square to an octagonal plan is subtly achieved with the broaches hidden behind pinnacles.
St Margaret’s, Hopton-on-Sea, Norfolk (the parish was transferred from Suffolk as a result of the local government reforms of 1974): this church was built in 1865-1866 on a site given by the banker and philanthropist Daniel Gurney (1791-1880) of North Runcton Hall in Norfolk to replace a medieval predecessor that had been gutted in an accidental fire. The use of knapped flint to face the exterior is a nod to local traditions, but otherwise this is a thoroughgoing essay in Teulon’s muscular manner. The composition demonstrates the architect’s love of elemental geometrical solids, though the form of the upper stages of the central tower – an octagonal cylinder interpenetrating with a square-based pyramid that forms its base – may derive from that over the crossing of the medieval church of St Mary’s in Pakenham, Suffolk, which Teulon had restored in 1849. He used the same device at St Thomas’s in Agar Town in Camden (completed 1863, demolished c. 1860).
SS Peter and Paul, Hawkley, near Liss in Hampshire: this church was paid for by J.J. Maberly, the owner of Hawkley Hurst, who in 1860 approached Teulon simultaneously for a design for his prospective new residence and for a replacement for the existing medieval chapel-of-ease. Drawings in the Hampshire Record Office dated that year show that the initial scheme was more modest – a nave with arcades of two bays in length (as opposed to the three-bay arcades that eventually materialised) and a west porch with a timber bell cote above rather than a proper tower. The design was revised to take the form that was eventually executed later the same year, but building work did not commence until September 1864. It was completed quickly, the new church being consecrated on 25th July 1865. The walls are faced in rubble-coursed clunch, reflecting local vernacular traditions.

The Puginian style of the 1840s is pulled around, distorted, perverted and ultimately made into a parody of itself. Curvilinear tracery gets more intricate, sinewy and tangled; cusping gets larger or more acute; motifs are piled up, superimposed, collide with and puncture one another. Components which in the original would be subsidiary to the composition as a whole, such as stair turrets and transverse gables, take centre stage, while utilitarian features such as clock faces and boiler house chimneys become vehicles for invention and are treated as architectural statements in their own right. Everywhere the trend is towards complexity, even fiddliness, towards never using one word where ten will do. Ornament, especially architectural sculpture, is exaggerated and overscaled. At St John the Baptist, Netherfield in East Sussex of 1854-1855 the pot is simmering; at Holy Trinity, Hastings of 1857-1862, it is boiling over. The apotheosis of this manner is St John the Baptist, Huntley in Gloucestershire, a medieval church rebuilt in its entirety apart from the tower in 1862-1863, whose sumptuous interior is thoroughly baroque in its profusion of ornament and colour.

The space below the tower at St Margaret’s, Hopton-on-Sea, Norfolk: whereas at St Stephen’s, Rosslyn Hill and St Mark’s, Silvertown this area does duty as a chancel, this building represents a variation on Teulon’s favourite plan in that the chancel projecting to the east is more than vestigial, being long enough to house the seating for the choir. Note how the red-brick striation of the courses of brick forming the arches follows varied and independent rhythms, ‘thus making chaos out of order’, as James Bettley puts it in the East Suffolk volume of The Buildings of England. Note also the oculus with its striped reveal to the left of the organ, a feature encountered again at Rosslyn Hill. The lectern and pulpit, with the base of the latter composed of Teulon’s beloved crystalline forms, are wholly characteristic. The organ is something of a puzzle: the pipework postdates the building by several decades, but devices such as the use of interwoven pointed arches with repeated cusped openings to form the two panels flanking the central screen suggest the hand of the architect in the design of the case.
Artist’s impression of St Mary’s in Ealing as originally intended by Teulon from The Building News of 23rd July 1869: the west porch was executed in somewhat simplified form and the treatment of the tower above the belfry is wholly different, lacking the octagonal stage and spire. Compare this with the remodelling of Holy Trinity, Leicester, illustrated in the elevation drawing above.
The interior of St Mary’s, Ealing: the church was reordered in 2002-2003 when, among other things, the nave was reseated and a decorative scheme of 1955 by H.S. Goodhart-Rendel was replaced by something more in spirit with Teulon’s design. The slender piers supporting the galleries and nave roof are cast iron and represent one of the architect’s boldest uses of the material.

A little later, probably around 1855, Teulon began to absorb the Ruskinian style pioneered by architects such as G.E. Street, which combined the muscular forms of early French Gothic with features drawn from Italian architecture of the early Middle Ages, principally structural polychromy. But here again, it is viewed, as it were, in a distorting mirror. The forms are uncompromisingly thick-set, the modelling sometimes strikingly elemental, the stripes and diapers bolder and more vivid. Teulon grasps the potential of the style in a way that none of his contemporaries managed in buildings such as St John the Baptist, Burringham in Lincolnshire of 1856-1857, where buttresses, string courses, hood moulds and other projections from the wall surface are largely suppressed to achieve a powerfully modelled assemblage of near-prismatic forms. What appears to be a dumpy west tower turns out to be kind of ante-chamber to the nave, open inside to the roof structure and with a bizarre chimney perched on and clasping the northwest corner. It was a language of form that served him well in a number of commissions to recast Georgian churches in a High Victorian manner, most notably St Mary’s in Ealing, where, between 1864 and 1874, Teulon remodelled almost beyond recognition a plain building originally of 1735-1740 by James Horne.

St George the Martyr, Queen Square in central London was originally built in c. 1706 as a chapel of ease to St Andrew’s in Holborn. In 1867-1869, at the same time as Teulon was busy remodelling that church, he transformed beyond recognition what had been a restrained English baroque preaching box, recasing the exterior, adding Lombardic tracery to the windows and replacing the bell turret. Internally, he removed all but one of the galleries, almost all the original fittings and turned the interior round through 90 degrees to face a new raised chancel area with a sumptuous mosaic reredos and richly painted canopies enclosing the (liturgical) east windows. This is enclosed on either side by chunkily detailed wooden screens, and that on the liturgical south side terminates in a spectacular pulpit, whose stairs wrap around one of the columns
The former church of St Mark’s, Silvertown in east London (since 2004 the Brick Lane Music Hall): detail of the bell tower and windows lighting the chancel. ‘Teulon’s style has stopped being merely original, has become fused into glittering poetry, all knobbly with harsh polysyllables. […] Imploded, savage inward raids into the heart’s essence, an architectural imagination the size of Blake’s. […] It is the nearest thing to a mystic’s revelation that London has’. Nairn’s London
View looking west of the interior of St Mark’s, Silvertown, pictured while it was still in use as a church. The interior was badly damaged by fire in 1981 during a long period when it was disused following redundancy in 1974, but the roof was reinstated by Julian Harrap during a restoration of 1984-1989. The plan form, with a bell tower placed over the chancel and an apse emerging from its eastern face was used again at a number of churches, notably St Stephen’s, Rosslyn Hill and St Margaret’s, Hopton-on-Sea, both pictured above, and the lost St Thomas’s, Agar Town. (Historic England)

But Teulon was not merely highly inventive in his treatment of historicising motifs, he was also omnivorous in his sources. At St Andrew’s, Coin Street in Lambeth (designed 1854, consecrated 1856), he turned for inspiration to the Backsteingotik churches of the Hanseatic cities of northern Germany. This is particularly evident in the tower, which lacks any buttressing – as is the case with the prototypes – and where tall gables to each elevation of the belfry stage help effect the transition from square tower to octagonal spire. Teulon had first tried out a Rhenish helm spire at St Stephen’s, Manciple Street in Southwark of 1848 (demolished 1965): in most other respects, that was an unadventurous design, but when he used the device again 17 years later for the rebuilding of SS Peter and Paul, Hawkley in Hampshire, it formed part of a striking and convincing essay in neo-Romanesque with decidedly Germanic overtones. Perhaps he had been prompted by recollections of something that he had seen on his travels as a young man. It is likely that he had seen for himself Romanesque buildings in the Rhineland, and one of the sketchbooks in the RIBA Collection includes a view of Friedrich August Stüler’s SS Peter and Paul in Wannsee outside Berlin, a Rundbogenstil design completed in 1837. At St Mark’s, Silvertown (now the Brick Lane Music Hall) of 1860-1862, Teulon cast his net even wider, filling the belfry windows and those below lighting the chancel with square-section tracery in geometrical patterns that recall the openwork screens in Moorish architecture. Something similar, although interpreted even more personally, cropped up at St Thomas’s, Agar Town in Camden (1863, demolished c. 1960 following bomb damage). Islamic inspiration is evident again at St Stephen’s, Rosslyn Hill in Hampstead (1869-1873), where Teulon used horseshoe-shaped arches to carry the tower.

The font in St Thomas’s, Wells in Somerset – a tour de force of the kind of crystalline forms that Teulon seems to have particularly enjoyed and used to articulate a wide range of architectural features.
Detail of the tiled chancel floor of St George the Martyr, Queen Square, which incorporates representations of the church’s patron saint. The maker has yet to be identified.
St John the Baptist, Huntley in Gloucestershire: one of several windows in the nave which combine scenes executed in Teulon’s trademark monochrome technique (here, Mary Magdalene washing the feet of Christ in the house of Simon) with coloured sections of glass. The reason perhaps was to overcome the effect that large expanses of stained glass could have of making church interiors gloomy and cave-like on all but the brightest of summer days.

Teulon pursed a total aesthetic in his churches every bit as avidly as any other 19th century architect. Fittings were usually bespoke and their design is full of the invention and originality that characterise the architecture which forms their setting. He also collaborated extensively – and by no means exclusively on ecclesiastical commissions – with leading artists and craftsmen of the time: Thomas Earp (1828-1893) for sculpture (the reredos that he executed for St John the Baptist, Huntley was shown at the Great Exhibition of 1862), Clayton and Bell or Lavers and Barraud for stained glass, Skidmore of Coventry for ironwork and Salviati for mosaics. At Ealing, Huntley, Netherfield and St Thomas’s in Wells, he used unusual tinted glass with monochrome drawing supposedly of his own devising.

St Andrew’s Church, Lambeth (1855-1856): view of the liturgical west front (in fact, the church was not oriented and the main axis ran more or less north-south) looking down Coin Street, which it terminated. The church sustained blast damage during World War II. Contemporary photographs show that this was far from irreparable, but it stood in an over-churched area which was fast depopulating and the case for restoring it must have seemed unconvincing. It was demolished soon afterwards.
Lateral (top) and longitudinal (above) cross sections of St Andrew’s, Coin Street from the District Surveyor’s Returns (LMA, MBO 34, ff. 330-355). Note that the nave had galleries in the aisles and at the west end. No other illustration of the interior of this church has so far been discovered. (London Metropolitan Archives)
St James’s, Leckhampstead, Berkshire (1859-1860): exterior from southwest

All of these commissions were generously supported by wealthy private donors. Yet Teulon was by no means dependent on largesse to stimulate his architectural imagination. Though The Ecclesiologist might have insinuated in its review of St Paul’s, Bermondsey that he regarded churches for poor areas as beneath his dignity, in his later career he showed himself able to make a virtue out of a necessity when designing a church on a tight budget. The point is made cogently by St James’s, Leckhampstead (1859-1860) on the Berkshire Downs outside Newbury, where savings were made on the execution of a most imaginative design through a number of ingenious expedients. What appear to be expensive vitrified bricks – an important element in a vividly polychromatic interior – are actually red bricks painted black. The mastic joints are in fact tuck pointing, also painted black. The cusped braces to the trusses at the east end of the nave have been assembled from several sections of planking, and much of the roof structure is held together with iron strapping rather than being jointed and pegged.

St James’s, Leckhampstead, Berkshire (1859-1860): general view of the interior looking east

Teulon’s major country houses

Elvetham Hall (1859-1862), the entrance front viewed from the southeast: the porte-cochère which shelters the main entrance is an addition of 1901, designed in a manner which shows great sensitivity to Teulon’s idiom, which by that date must have appeared distinctly old-fashioned. The transverse open gateway which formerly occupied the ground floor of the tower was filled in and the tower extended outwards at ground- and first-floor level. This later section can be distinguished here by the slightly brighter shade of the brickwork.

It is the churches that have made Teulon’s name. Yet he was also an important designer of country houses, which demonstrate his artistic development and embody his mature style every bit as vividly as any of his ecclesiastical commissions. The attention of architectural scholars has tended to be drawn by a quartet of major works. The earliest is Tortworth Court near Wotton-under-Edge in Gloucestershire, built for the second Earl of Ducie in 1849-1853 and Teulon’s first known large-scale venture in the field. It is the product of an architect – and, indeed, of an age – that had neither fully relinquished the fashions of a previous age nor wholly assimilated the innovations of the new one that was already upon them. A drawing in one of the sketchbooks in the RIBA Collection depicts an intriguing design for what is essentially an oversized cottage orné, based on a cranked axis, with a caption in a much later hand stating that it is Tortworth Court. If this was indeed Teulon’s initial offering to the Earl, then the concept evidently changed radically in the design process.

Tortworth Court in Gloucestershire as it appears today, viewed from the pleasure grounds to the south of the house. The terrace with stone balls and steps in the middle ground form part of Teulon’s original design for the landscape. The bay windows mark the position on the ground floor of (going left to right) the library, the drawing room and the morning room.
What may be a first design for Tortworth Court in one of Teulon’s sketchbooks: note the pair of chimney stacks linked by an arch and supporting weathervane on a tall stem, a feature already familiar from Wetheringsett Manor, pictured above. (RIBA Collections)

As built, the garden front is entirely symmetrical and effectively Georgian Gothick; the entrance front is wilfully asymmetrical, with advancing and receding planes, and decidedly Puginian. There is an uncomfortable discontinuity between the two and, as designed, it depended for its effect on a vivid skyline of turrets, gables, pinnacles and tall chimneys, all grouped around a tower containing the main stair with a tall pyramidal roof crowned by a large cupola (as Mark Girouard notes in The Victorian Country House, this feature owes a visible debt to James Wyatt’s Ashridge in Hertfordshire of 1808-1821). The removal of this feature in the late 19th century (around the time that the free-standing chapel was demolished and replaced by a conservatory) robbed the exterior of much of its coherence, while the subdivision of the grounds and later planting on the eastern side from which the house is approached (it is now a luxury hotel, with an open prison occupying part of the former park) has destroyed the long-range views in which it must once have cut an evocative figure.

Tortworth Court, Gloucestershire: the free-standing gatehouse that provide access to the entrance front with its vaulted porch visible beyond.
Section of the staircase tower at Tortworth Court, as illustrated in The Builder of 29th October 1853. The tall roof structure with hammerbeam trusses and a central lantern was removed in the late 19th century and replaced by a flat ceiling.

Stylistically, the exterior is an amalgam of late Georgian Gothick, neo-Jacobean and Puginian Gothic. What can be deduced from the surviving interiors – much was apparently lost during a bad fire in 1991 – suggests that, within, the detailing was mostly Tudor Gothic, but there are germs of several ideas that recur in Teulon’s later work. The use of overscaled brackets to support the flights landings of the main styair, for instance, is an early instance of something that became a favourite device and was translated into his brand of muscular Gothic. The architectural language was flexible and, as had already been shown at houses such as Ashridge, could easily be adapted to suit plan forms and massing that owed little to medieval architecture. Nor did evoking the Middle Ages preclude technological advancements, and Tortworth was equipped with a hot air heating system, gas lighting and a system of carts running on rails and lifts to distribute coal around the house. It is perhaps telling that Marsten, a contemporary estate cottage on a road that skirts the eastern boundary of the parkland, coheres more successfully as a discrete sculptural form: Teulon had yet to develop an architectural language capable of responding to large-scale planning.

The main staircase at Tortworth Court as it appears today: the planning of the house, with a lofty top-lit space in the centre, makes an instructive comparison with the later Bestwood Lodge, pictured below.
The former library at Tortworth Court looking through the sliding doors that communicate with the former drawing room beyond.

At Shadwell Court in Norfolk, Teulon remodelled and extended earlier fabric rather than designing a brand new house, but his work was so extensive that it nonetheless constitutes a major statement. The Buxton family was based at Channonz Hall, a large Elizabethan house at Tibenham near Diss. They apparently shared no more than a surname and roots in the east of England with the family of Thomas and Charles Buxton, discussed in my blog post on Foxwarren Park. In 1727-1729, they built a mansion on an estate not far away to the west as a summer retreat. It proved much better suited to living patterns of the time and they abandoned Channonz. But that, for all its drawbacks, was a more capacious property and they came to outgrow Shadwell. In 1840-1843, Edward Blore (1787-1879) was commissioned to enlarge the house by Sir John Jacob Buxton, who died while the work was in progress. After his son and heir, Sir Robert Buxton, came of age in 1850, he and his mother embarked on a major programme of building work. Teulon was engaged to rebuild and enlarge the parish church of St Andrew’s in Brettenham on the edge of the estate, which was done in 1852. In 1855, he was commissioned to rebuild as a rectory the medieval building at nearby Rushford that had formerly housed the canons of the originally collegiate parish church of St John the Evangelist. This was done, although a scheme to rebuild the church itself (much reduced after the dissolution of the college) remained on paper.

The entrance front of Shadwell Court in Norfolk: to the left of the tower above the main entrance, the fabric is mainly as left by Blore; to the right is the office wing heavily remodelled by Teulon, and everything beyond – starting with the clock tower over the entrance to the service court – is entirely his. (Postcard, author’s own collection)
The west elevation of the office wing at Shadwell Court remodelled by Teulon, as illustrated in The Builder of 21st August 1858: the section with the Perpendicular Gothic window and crow-stepped gable corresponds to one of the ‘transepts’ of the Music Room, while to the left of it with the prominent bay window is the main dining room. Further to the left (i.e. the section with the oriel and Dutch gable) is the small dining room. The octagonal turret visible in the background corresponds to the clock tower over the entrance to the service yard, depicted in the illustration above.

In 1855-1860, Teulon rebuilt Shadwell. The service court is entirely his, but work on the house itself consisted mainly of the extensive remodelling and raising by one storey of an office wing added by Blore, hollowing out of the centre a cruciform music room and adding on a large new dining room. These were, as Girouard put it, ‘the only Teulon interiors of importance at Shadwell’, but then client and architect seem to have been more preoccupied with the aim of creating as a centrepiece for the estate a vast, sprawling pile with a vivid skyline of spires, turrets, gables and steeply pitched roofs that would appear from a distance like a small city. A new entrance route was provided across the park from the west, which wound around the house on its final approach, affording dramatic, constantly changing views of this spectacular ensemble. Teulon’s addition of a thumping great tower over the main door might have thrown the entrance front off-centre; balance is restored by the intricately modelled clock tower over the gate to the service court with its octagonal upper stages, the adjacent stout, drum-like game larder and, beyond, the gatehouse in the centre of the stable block, with its crow-stepped gable and staircase tower with a candle-snuffer roof.

The music room at Shadwell Court: the organ (long since removed) was housed in a case specially designed by Teulon incorporating ironwork manufactured by Skidmore. The main entrance to the house marked in the illustration above by the huge tower and oriels opened directly into this space, which must have been as much entrance hall as music room.
Artist’s impression of the entrance front (top) and ground plan (above) of Enbrook in Sandgate near Folkestone in Kent (1853-1855), as illustrated in The Builder of 16th September 1854 – why the caption to the former states that it is located in Surrey is unknown. In 1920, the property (which by this point was known as Chichester House) was acquired for use as a Star and Garter convalescent home for soldiers who had been wounded in World War I. Teulon’s house was replaced in 1924-1928 by a new structure in a Cape Dutch style designed by Edwin Cooper (1874-1942), who incorporated a substantial portion of the entrance front pictured above, including the prominent oriel lighting the main stair and porte-cochère, into the new structure. The stylistic contrast was disconcerting and Cooper’s rationale for such a perverse decision remains a mystery. The building subsequently housed a police training college, before the site was purchased by holiday operator the Saga Group, who obtained listed building consent to clear it to make way for an office complex by Michael Hopkins, constructed in 1997-1998.

The style is Teulon’s almost hallucinogenic reinterpretation of Puginian Gothic with delight evident from every view in his excursions into complex geometrical forms and restless variations in outline and detail. Architectural sculpture, much of it by Earp, plays an important role. Though the flint flushwork pays lip service to local traditions, it is simply more grist to Teulon’s mill in creating exhilarating variations in texture, colour and material. The estate remains and is used as a stud farm for racehorses, owned until his recent death by Sheikh Hamdan bin Rashid Al Maktoum, but the house is now in poor condition after a lengthy period of neglect.

This image of the front to the pleasure grounds at Elvetham Hall, which has only recently come to light, is an important record of Teulon’s original intentions for this aspect of the building. It was substantially altered as a result of the extensive scheme of modifications carried out in 1911-1913: the loggia was filled in and much of the ground-floor elevation disappeared behind an extensive conservatory. The tower visible in the centre rising above the bay window of what was originally the drawing room lost its pyramidal roof, which was replaced by a baroque-style cupola on a flat base, and the first-floor balconies were removed. Though much of what is pictured here remains intact, the modifications removed a great deal of interest in the treatment of the wall planes and obscured Teulon’s carefully judged massing, especially of the polygonal termination to this wing with its massive buttresses. (Carte de visite from the collection of Paul Kingswell)
One of the distinguishing features of Elvetham Hall is the superb quality architectural sculpture executed by Thomas Earp both inside and outside the building. This aedicule enclosing two falconers is to be found on the north face of the tower above the main entrance. Note also the tumbled brickwork to the gable, a favourite Teulon device.

Work had begun on Elvetham Hall near Hartley Wintney in northeast Hampshire before Shadwell Court had been completed, but this building reveals a very different aspect of Teulon’s architectural personality. It owes much to the architectural language that seems to have come into being at St John the Baptist in Burringham, but there are few pointed arches to be seen. A curious kind of stretched trefoil with keystones at the intersections of the arcs forms a kind of leitmotif in the design. It is shrunk to the scale of an image niche, blown up and stretched laterally in its proportions to serve as arches to the service court, but always employed in a manner entirely detached from the architectural language of early Gothic whence it derives. It is used sparingly, mainly at visually prominent locations, and the remaining openings of windows and doorways are almost everywhere segmental. When tracery finally appears in the windows to the main stair, it takes forms reminiscent of 17th century ‘Gothic Survival’. Indeed, eclecticism is the keynote, in that a stylistically diverse variety of devices is thrown into the mix – square pinnacles and openwork parapets that might have been cribbed from Elizabethan architecture at its most mannered, Dutch gables, thoroughly classical moulded cornices and ball finials.

The main staircase at Elvetham Hall: the heraldic beasts crowning the newel posts, carved by a Mr Grinham, were added during the modifications of 1911-1913. The stained glass, supplied by Lavers and Barraud, illustrates historical figures associated with the Hall. Note the horseshoe arches of the openings in the balustrade of the stair. The tracery of the large central window makes an interesting comparison with that of the school in Netherfield, pictured below.
This rough preliminary sketch of the entrance front at Elvetham Hall makes an instructive comparison with the artist’s impression reproduced below, which shows the building from exactly the same angle. Though some of the elements of the final design are already present, such as the combined tower and porte-cochère, stylistically the treatment is very different. It is overtly medievalising in a way that what was eventually executed is not. Why and under what circumstances the concept changed awaits discovery. (RIBA Collections)
View from the north of Elvetham Hall, as published in The Builder of 26th May 1860: this is important as a record of the building’s original appearance before the lean-to porte-cochère was added in 1901 and the new hall and library in 1911-1913, making a comparison instructive with the view of the entrance front as it appears today reproduced at the beginning of this section. It may well be copied from a presentation drawing of Elvetham Hall which Teulon exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1860.

Yet Teulon’s omnivorous approach does not translate into stylistic indeterminacy since all these features are subsumed into a compelling, strongly individual whole. The boldly asymmetrical composition is modelled in powerful, chiselled forms, with stridently patterned polychromatic brickwork, produced in kilns set up on the estate, pullulating in each elevation. Whatever the historicising overtones may be, the aesthetic is distinctly and unmistakably High Victorian, capable of being ascribed to no century other than the nineteenth. It is sustained throughout all Teulon’s numerous buildings and structure on the estate, which include not only the mansion and stable block, but also a bridge across the River Hart, walls and steps in the pleasure grounds, estate housing and even a water tower. The church of St Mary a short distance away to the east in the grounds had been rebuilt in neo-Norman by Henry Roberts (1803-1876) in 1840-1841. Teulon’s brief here seems to have been confined to adding architectural sculpture to the spire, turning Roberts’ design into a haunting, even unsettling presence, adding to the vivid skyline of the ensemble. The interior of Elvetham Hall strikes a more light-hearted tone. Pageantry abounds in the extensive scheme of figurative art, executed in a variety of media, which celebrates events in the long and illustrious history of the house, notably the lavish reception put on for Elizabeth I and her retinue by the Earl of Hertford, the then-owner, in September 1591. The great hall incorporates an extraordinary apse-like alcove lit by tall lancets and glazed with Teulon’s distinctive monochrome stained glass, making it a secular counterpart to the baptistry at St Mary’s in Ealing.

Elvetham Hall, fireplace in the former drawing room: the relief shows Queen Elizabeth I at the head of her train when she arrived at Elvetham on 20th September 1591. To the left are the six virgins, who, it is recorded, walked ahead of her, singing and scattering flowers on her path.
Robert Dudley, 1st Earl of Leicester, as depicted in one of the ceiling panels in the drawing room at Elvetham Hall, which were executed by Harland and Fisher and illustrate characters from Walter Scott’s novel Kenilworth.

Teulon had been engaged to work on Elvetham by Frederick Gough-Calthorpe (1790-1868) the 4th Lord Calthorpe, whose family owned the Edgbaston Estate. Starting in the late 18th century, they exploited the demand generated by Birmingham’s rapid expansion as an industrial and commercial centre by selling building leases for its development as a middle-class suburb. The family had acquired Elvetham through marriage in the 1700s, but leased the estate to a succession of occupiers from the end of the 18th century, when it ceased to reside there. In the 1800s, one of these – Lieutenant General Gwynne, a veteran of the Peninsula Wars – demolished a large, substantially Elizabethan house and replaced it with a relatively modest classical villa. The 4th Lord Calthorpe left Edgbaston to take up residence at Elvetham and it was income from the ground rents that allowed him to rebuild the house on such an imposing scale. The choice of architect seems to have fallen on Teulon because he had already commissioned from him a number of buildings for the Edgbaston Estate, notably the church of St James (1851-1852), as well as modifications to Perry Hall in Staffordshire, another Calthorpe property.

The entrance front of Bestwood Lodge in Nottinghamshire, built in 1862-1865 for the 10th Duke of St Albans. The octagonal tower on the right was added after 1867.
The top-lit Great Hall at Bestwood Lodge in Nottinghamshire: the main staircase is offset and access is now through the doors visible just to the left of centre marked by the green fire exit sign. Note the carved relief opposite beneath the middle bay, possibly resited here from an exterior location during one of the remodellings.

The circles in which the Calthorpes moved had an important bearing on Teulon’s career. There is a great deal to be discovered about how his entry to them came about and the succession of introductions that followed. The third Lord Calthorpe had been a close friend of, among others, William Wilberforce, Joseph John Gurney and Thomas Fowell Buxton, as well as being a staunch supporter of many of the national evangelical societies. The fifth lord was part of the Marlborough House set, which revolved around Edward, Prince of Wales. So also was the 10th Duke of St Albans, William Amelius Aubrey De Vere Beauclerk (1840-1898), who commissioned from Teulon Bestwood Lodge on the northern fringes of Nottingham, built in 1862-1865. Here, the strident manner of Elvetham is still present, but overt medievalising returns, this time in the form of the architect’s highly personal interpretation of Ruskinian Gothic. As at Shadwell Park, every possible device at Teulon’s disposal – steep gables, pyramidal roofs, towers and turrets of differing sizes, decorative ironwork, prominent chimney breasts and tall stacks – are brought into play to create an evocative skyline, whose effect is augmented by the substantial quadrangular stable yard to the north, for which similar devices are employed. The components of this sprawling complex are picturesquely disposed and the massing broken up in a manner that belies the substantial proportions of the house.

Artist’s impression of Bestwood Lodge, then still under construction, as published in The Builder of 5th September 1863 – possibly based on a presentation drawing exhibited at the Royal Academy the following year. The house did not remain in the form depicted here for long. Soon after completion, a conservatory was built on to the right of the main entrance, running parallel to the servants’ hall. Following a serious fire in the 1890s, this was rebuilt as a drill hall, acquiring a first floor with dummy half timbering.
Bestwood Lodge – corbel supporting the outer angle of the large, obliquely positioned corner flue visible in the illustration above. Though the later extension has deprived this feature of its visual prominence, it may have inadvertently ensured the preservation of the detail shown here by sheltering it from the weather. The red Mansfield sandstone is soft and many of the other exterior carvings are now badly weathered. The prominent whiskers suggest that this is a caricature of someone connected with the house.

The servants’ hall that extends along the north side of the cour d’honneur is treated as a discrete form and terminates at one end in a tall crow-stepped gable and spired bell cote, giving it an ecclesiastical air that might lead a casual observer to mistake it for a domestic chapel – something noted, greatly to its displeasure, by The Ecclesiologist. Even allowing for the impact of later alterations, the eschewal of symmetry in the elevations and axiality in the composition is the defining feature of views from any angle, making a perambulation of the grounds a decidedly disorientating experience, something accentuated by the sharp fall of the land on the garden side. The love of sculptural invention is again evident, especially in the hyperactively busy composition of the entrance tower with its intricate buttressing and oriels. The house originated as a hunting lodge in a royal park, which had reputedly been granted by Charles II to Nell Gwynn, his mistress and mother of the 1st Duke. As at Elvetham Hall, episodes from the past history of the site and local legend informed the decorative scheme, the sculptural elements of which were once again executed by Thomas Earp, this time in red Mansfield stone. The base of the oriel window above the main entrance incorporates portrait busts of Robin Hood and his Merry Men, while a relief in the Great Hall depicts Edward III hunting in Bestwood Park.

The south-facing garden front and terrace of Bestwood Lodge: the three tall windows aligned with the tower capped by a pyramidal roof mark the location of the main stair. The former drill hall just visible to the far left obscures one of Teulon’s trademark chimneys offset at an angle, visible in the illustration from The Builder reproduced above, which conveys just what an important element this originally was in the composition of the entrance front.
Fireplace in the Great Hall at Bestwood Lodge: the half arches projecting forward are a favourite Teulon motif, which here echo those used to support the first-floor gallery visible in the photograph above.

Tortworth, Shadwell, Elvetham and Bestwood constitute an impressive achievement by any standards of the 19th century. There is a great deal to ponder here, not least the fact that, having been commissioned by ‘old money’, all these works call into question the paradigm of a grandiloquent kind of revived Gothic as the preferred style of the Victorian nouveaux riches who had been elevated in station by the industrial growth of the period. But these four houses by no means exhaust the record. Enbrook in Sandgate near Folkestone in Kent, built for the sixth Earl of Darnley (1853-1855, demolished) was an impressive house in an earnest Puginian manner, although already going roguish in touches such as the window lighting the main staircase. Woodlands Vale between Ryde and Bembridge on the Isle of Wight of 1870-1871 was commissioned by the fifth Lord Calthorpe – not as a country seat, but as a summer coastal residence, and was not a brand new house, but a remodelling of an 1840s villa. The French Renaissance manner is idiosyncratically interpreted, and does not immediately suggest the hand of the architect.  

Woodlands Vale on the Isle of Wight, an 1840s house remodelled and extended by Teulon for the fifth Lord Calthorpe in 1870-1871: several features here were added subsequently, such as the bay window to the dining room of 1880 and the top-lit billiard room to the left, which replaced a conservatory and was added in 1894.

Smaller country houses, other residential work and estate buildings

Elsewhere, Teulon’s country house practice brought commissions for extensions and modifications to existing buildings in addition to the construction of entirely new ones. Some may have been minor, but others, though subsidiary to the host building, are still wholly characteristic statements of his work, such as the service wing added to Warlies Park (another Buxton property) in Upshire near Waltham Abbey in Essex. This is dated to 1879 in several reference sources – erroneously, since the architect was long dead by that point – and here, as in so many other places, there is ground to be broken in researching this aspect of Teulon’s career. Country houses are particularly susceptible to the vagaries of fashion, seldom more so than during the 20th century reaction against High Victorianism, which often led to dramatic recastings and the obliteration of entire phases in a building’s architectural evolution. Such a fate befell Hawkley Hurst, which had been built for J.J. Maberly outside the village to which this landowner gifted the neo-Romanesque church pictured and described above. Following its sale to a new owner in 1912, the house was rebuilt out of all recognition and the towerlet with a candle snuffer roof attached to what must have originally been a service wing is the only feature of the Cotswold Elizabethan pile now occupying the site that is recognisable from the illustration reproduced below. Access to country houses can be difficult to obtain for field study, while papers vital for an architectural historian’s research sometimes have yet to be deposited in record offices or may have disappeared altogether, further complicating the task.

Design for a lodge house at Elkington in Lincolnshire: typical of the Italianate designs for country house work with which Teulon was much involved in the 1850s, nothing is currently known of this commission, including whether it was executed and, if so, whether it is still extant. (RIBA Collections)
Former workshop buildings at Thorney, now known as Bedford Hall: erected in c. 1855 in collaboration with engineer John Hodgson Jones (1823-1892), this complex provided the estate village with fresh water (the tall tower housed a header tank) and gas for lighting. It also housed a carpenter’s shop and smithy, as well as accommodation for a superintendent.
The bridge taking the main drive across the River Hart at Elvetham Hall

It was rare for architects with a country house practice not to be called upon to design estate buildings and Teulon’s work in this field constitutes a major part of his output. Around ten years after he commenced independent practice, he landed a commission to design houses for the ninth Duke of Bedford at Thorney in Cambridgeshire. Surviving correspondence with the Duke suggests that Teulon was already familiar with ideas on sanitation being promoted at that date by the Society for Improving the Condition of the Labouring Classes, mentioned previously in my post on Henry Darbishire. His involvement with the Society may have brought about an introduction to Prince Albert, who took an interest in its activity, and this, in turn, could have led to commissions for the Royal Estate in Windsor. In addition to workshop buildings (1858) and the addition of a chancel to Queen Victoria’s chapel at the Royal Lodge (1863), Teulon supposedly extended Prince Consort Cottages on Alexandra Road in Windsor itself. This is a complex of model housing of 1855 built to designs by Henry Roberts, who had been much involved with putting into practice the ideas advocated by the Society. In the same year of 1855, Teulon built Crown Cottages near Queen Anne’s Gate to Windsor Great Park on the southern edge of the town.

Marsten, a cottage bearing a datestone of 1854 on the Tortworth Estate, located on the eastern border of the former park surrounding Tortworth Court.
Part of Nos 54-68 Wisbech Road in Thorney, designed by Teulon for the 7th Duke of Bedford’s extensive building programme of estate housing, carried out between 1849 and 1865. Almost all of the housing is constructed of yellow brick, produced by the estate’s own brickworks. The terrace of Nos 54-68 is one half of an almost symmetrical pair and, compared to some of the other cottages, unusually elaborate with liberal use of dressed stone for the mullion and transom windows, the doorways and even the brackets for the porch roofs. Though the style is a fairly restrained neo-Tudor, Teulon’s wilfulness starts to come out in the peculiar first-floor window of the tower-like cottage to the left – one of two which bookend the twin terraces.
No. 23A New Market in Beccles, Suffolk of 1868 – a rare instance of Teulon designing a commercial property. The ground floor of the elevation to New Market has been much altered and the building has lost the elaborate pierced parapet that it once sported. Gurney’s Bank was absorbed into Barclays in 1896 and the connection with the Gurney family mentioned in relation to the new church at Hopton-on-Sea pictured above may account for the commission, although the hypothesis needs to be tested.

The work at Thorney, which included a workshop for the estate incorporating a tall water tower, was in a free neo-Tudor manner familiar from some of his vicarages designed during the same period. By contrast, Crown Cottages are fiercely High Victorian, constructed of bricks laid in rat trap bond with liberal use of black glazed bricks to create striping and other polychromatic effects, as well as emphatic buttresses and chimney breasts. At Hunstanworth, a remote moorland village in the Derwent Valley of County Durham, Teulon was engaged around 1862 by the Rev’d Daniel Capper, the local landowner, not only to rebuild the church, but also to provide housing for local residents. Capper’s extensive landholdings included properties in Herefordshire and Gloucestershire, among them the estate at Huntley, where Teulon was at work rebuilding the church of St John the Baptist and Capper’s own residence of Huntley Manor at exactly the same date. Decent but plain housing to a standard design might well have been thought sufficient, as was the case on so many large estates. Instead, as Matthew Saunders notes, ‘All the cottages are of different design united only by the use of the same sort of stone and slate’.

Luxmoore (formerly Tintoch House), New Dover Road, Canterbury, Kent – a suburban mansion built in 1860 for General James McQueen. Much abused during the 20th century, when it was used for various purposes by the King’s School, interrupted by a period of occupation by the army during World War II, this property was eventually converted to flats in the 1980s, which seems to have resulted in the complete loss of the original interiors.
The public fountain at the tip of the site occupied by Holy Trinity in Hastings, designed by Teulon and erected in 1862 in commemoration of Sarah, Countess Waldegrave. Under the vaulted canopy, which has lost the tip of its spire, is a sculpture of Christ and the woman of Samaria. This, like so much of the exterior stonework of the church itself, has been severely eroded by the action of the maritime climate (the church stands just a few hundred feet from the seafront) to the point of being beyond recognition. Immediately behind is the polygonal vestry added in 1892 to the design of W.H. Romaine-Walker, while to the right at the end of Trinity Street can be seen W.L. Vernon’s Brassey Institute (now the town’s library) of 1878-1880.
Hawkley Hurst in Hampshire, commenced in 1861 to a design of which Teulon had exhibited a presentation drawing at the Royal Academy the previous year. The date of this photograph is currently unknown, but it must have been taken prior to 1912, after which date the house was drastically remodelled. Note that, as at the church (pictured above), rubble-coursed clunch is used to face the building.

It is becoming increasingly clear that a great deal has yet to be discovered about Teulon’s domestic architecture, especially the smaller country and suburban houses and estate cottages. Tintoch House (now Luxmoore) of 1860 on New Dover Road in Canterbury is noted but goes unattributed in The Buildings of England, and it also escaped the attention of Historic England’s listing inspectors, a circumstance which may explain the loss of the original interiors. Almost opposite is what was formerly Westfield House, a suburban mansion of 1860-1861 which, by contrast, is given an attribution in The Buildings of England, but also remains unlisted. By contrast, the attribution to Teulon of the remodelling of a modest 18th century cottage to turn it into what became Hawkley Place in the list description for that building may well be inaccurate. The date of 1862 in the same source is not borne out by map evidence and it is more likely that the work was carried out in the 1880s when Maberly purchased the property for his nephew.

Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton (1837-1915) engaged Teulon to carry out an extensive scheme of works at Warlies, the estate at Upshire in Essex near Waltham Abbey, which his father had purchased in 1851. This seems to have included the stable block, dated 1862, of which the overseer’s house and clock tower are pictured here. Buxton was the namesake and grandson of Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton (1786-1845), the abolitionist, and nephew of Charles Buxton (1822-1871), the amateur architect.
Teulon’s work at Warlies included alterations to the main house, a restrained classical building of the late 18th/early 19th century. He remodelled the interior and much of the northern half, adding a two-storey porch in an Italianate style just visible to the right. This faces a long service wing, also added by Teulon, totally at odds with the host building, but cleverly arranged: seen face-on, it rambles; when seen from the porch, foreshortening resolves it into a more compact, highly picturesque composition. The date stone reads 1879, implying that it was at least completed after the architect’s death.

But for the most part, the catalogue of Teulon’s works wants additions rather than subtractions. Although research is needed to corroborate the hypothesis, it would seem that his activity at Rushford in Norfolk for the Buxtons went beyond the remodelling of the former priests’ college. In addition to the school pictured below, there are two pairs of semi-detached cottages in close vicinity to it which appear to be of the same vintage and may well also turn out to be his work. The full extent of Teulon’s work in Upshire also wants clarification and description. He designed a combined chapel and school in the village (built c. 1855, demolished 1954) and possibly also the lodge by the entrance to the Warlies estate on Horseshoe Hill, which, with features such as dummy half-timbering, is characteristic of the picturesque manner that he employed for estate housing elsewhere.

Final years and afterword

St John the Baptist, Huntley, Gloucestershire: items such as the lectern, seen here, represent a tour de force of carving by Thomas Earp, whose effect is augmented by the use of coloured marbles and painted decoration, as seen here. Note the original chandelier suspended from an elaborate gilded wrought iron bracket, positioned to the right of the chancel arch.

That Teulon could have been busy simultaneously in Gloucestershire and County Durham gives some sense of the punishing workload that he handled for much of his life. At a time when many architects derived much of their income from surveying – a less laborious and more reliably remunerated line of business – he seems to have earned his almost exclusively through designing buildings. He bequeathed to posterity a rich, fascinating and most rewarding architectural legacy, but paid dearly for doing so. When he died in 1873 aged just 62, The Architect reported in its obituary that ‘there is no doubt that overwork had to some extent told on his constitution’. He was laid to rest at Highgate Cemetery. Though in later life Teulon did not want for extra hands in his office, reputedly he was reluctant ever to delegate. He was clubbable, attending Committee meetings of the Ecclesiological Society and serving on the RIBA Council between 1861 and 1865. But though he apparently took a close interest in the critical reception of his own work, he never responded in print and left no writings other than professional correspondence.

The front to Wells Road in Great Malvern of Tudor House, built in 1852 to provide accommodation for male patients receving the water cures administered by Dr James Gully. A covered aerial walkway links it to Holyrood House (the cream stucco building visible beyond), which provided accommodation for female patients.
With its chunky forms and thick-cut detailing, the pulpit at St Mary’s, Woodchester in Gloucestershire epitomises Teulon’s High Victorian church fittings. Note the stone base, an exercise in his favourite crystalline geometry.
In 1869, Teulon was engaged to design a new combined rectory, Court House and vestry clerk’s office for the church of St Andrew, Holborn in the City of London to replace predecessors which were to be demolished for the Holborn Valley Improvements. He designed them as a compact ensemble, tucked away behind a boundary wall and lodge house on a confined site to the south of the church fronting New Fetter Lane. The traceried windows mark the location of the court room. At the same time, Teulon also carried out a sumptuous reordering and redecoration of the interior of this Wren church, recorded in photographs, but all lost when the building was gutted during the Blitz.

Though Teulon took pupils, none – as far as is currently known – went on to achieve anything of note. The line of development that he represented ceased with him. For this – and, indeed, for so much else – he would merit being grouped among the High Victorian representatives of Goodhart-Rendel’s rogues. But of him there is not a word in the lecture of 1949 which established that canon, and whether Teulon’s achievement is better understood by drawing parallels with the work of Roumieu, Peacock and Keeling is a moot point, which only a better understanding of his output and the context from which it emerged could settle. At any rate, four years later in English Architecture since the Regency, An Interpretation, Goodhart-Rendel wrote appreciatively of Teulon, calling him ‘the fiercest, ablest and most temerarious of [the] Gothic adventurers’, who had ‘a large and exciting practice’ and carried ‘modernism tumultuously across the border of caricature’. By ‘adventurers’, he meant the architects who, as the Gothic Revival wore on, were no longer content for their design to be circumscribed by a limited repertoire of forms hallowed by archaeological precedent and established good taste, and were thus driven to innovate. But then such architects by their very nature tended to be inimitable.

The former National Schools (now a residential conversion) at Netherfield, East Sussex, presumably of 1854-1855
The lost Teulon house of Letton Court in Herefordshire, built in 1859-1861 to replace an earlier predecessor for the Rev’d Henry Blisset, who had been instrumental in the establishment and construction of St Thomas’s Church in Wells. The house was gutted by an accidental fire in 1924 and the shell demolished. The foundations of the house were reused for a neo-Georgian successor, which reproduces some of the angular modelling of Teulon’s design.
The intricate tracery of the overlight to the entrance from Claremont Street and sexfoil above in the west wall of the south aisle of Holy Trinity in Hastings. Teulon’s wilful treatment of motifs drawn from curvilinear Decorated English Gothic of the 14th century makes an instructive comparison with the window to the organ chamber of St John the Baptist in Huntley, Gloucestershire, pictured above.

At a conference in 2018, I got into conversation with Matthew Saunders. It had long been rumoured that, on stepping down from the Ancient Monuments Society and the Friends of Friendless Churches, he intended to embark on a monograph on Teulon. By that point, he was almost a year into his retirement. I asked whether he had made a start and, if so, how he was finding the task. To my surprise, he responded that he hadn’t and thought it unlikely that he ever would. And then he asked, ‘But would you like to have a go?’ Of course, the answer was an unequivocal ‘Yes!’ Since then, he has been sending my way Teuloniana of all kinds, from old newspaper cuttings to Master’s dissertations. Chronicling and analysing the career of a workaholic architect is a daunting prospect and I can expect the task to keep me busy for many years, perhaps even decades.

The stairs providing access to the room over the archway into the stable block of 1862 at Letton Court: the splat balusters are a favourite Teulon device.
Completed in 1863, St Mary’s, Woodchester in Gloucestershire is representative of a group of church designs by Teulon from his maturity that are handled in a more conservative vein. The idiosyncratic detailing is there, but played down and is very much subservient to the general effect. The anomalies have been remarked on by architectural historians, but never explained and research is necessary to identify the causes. One of the sketchbooks in the RIBA Collection contains a view of an early design for this church, monolithic in its composition with the tower rising from above the chancel and lean-to aisles. Why this was abandoned is currently unknown.

Though it may in time serve as a good basis for a book proposal, this post can do no more than give a brief outline of what Teulon was about and identify some of the lines of inquiry that have yet to be pursued. But what makes the case for a monograph far more cogently than the promise of filling lacunae is demonstrating – as I hope the illustrations here do – the sheer visual enjoyment to be had from this colourful, exuberant, original, entertaining, ceaselessly inventive architecture, which begs to be made known to a wider public. The description of St Mary’s, Ealing in Nairn’s London sent me straight out there as a teenager to see the building for myself: ‘The inside defies description. It could be an agricultural hall, with cast-iron columns. It could be a nineteenth century copy of Cordova, with all the striped horseshoe arches. There are fish all around the bottom of the pulpit, and the horseshoe-shaped baptistry opposite is a complete space in itself, electrified with Teulon’s astonishing life force. Who? What? How? A rag-bag with enough ideas for a dozen churches: and a splendid place for a boggle’. My hope is that, book or no book, this post will have a similar effect on you.

The chancel and apse of St Thomas’s Church in Wells, Somerset of 1857: the mosaic work to the dado panelling, which incorporates Decalogue boards (shown in detail in the featured photograph at the top of this page) is by Salviati.

Published by Edmund Harris

Heritage professional and architectural historian residing in Suffolk. All views expressed here are my own and do not represent my employer.

8 thoughts on “Prolific inimitability: getting to grips with S.S. Teulon (1812-1873)

  1. 1. Many thanks for all your work on this series. I was first alerted to it by the Ecclesiological Society newsletter abd have downloaded and printed the whole thing!

    2. On Teulon, have you seen ‘Victorian Thorney’ by A E Teulon? It’s not particularly academic, but ineresting nonetheless.


  2. Dear Edmund, I live in the Old Rectory, Binsted (BN18 0LL) which has recently been discovered to have been designed by S.S.Teulon. I’d like to correspond if this could be useful to you. Have applied for listing. Emma Tristram


  3. Delighted to hear from you! Funnily enough, I was contacted a few weeks ago by Michael Bellamy of the Designations department at Historic England to ask if I knew anything about your house. I didn’t, but said I would be very interested to learn more, so please do tell me about the building as all I know at the moment is what little I can make out from Google Earth.


    1. The Rectory was built in c.1863 (but possibly more like 1865) for Henry Christopher Bones, Rector of Binsted. (He changed his name to Lewis.) It is a quirky combination of Gothic and ‘Old English’ with stained glass, some pointed windows and door, polychrome brickwork and tile hanging. Michael Bellamy told me about ‘rogue’ Victorian architects and said the Rectory is ‘not quite Rogue, but getting there’. Lewis also paid for the restoration of St Mary’s, Binsted by Thomas Graham Jackson. Jackson’s work is so good that it helped me to get the church’s listing raised from Grade II to Grade II*. Would you like to email me and I can send you photographs?


      1. Now there’s a name to conjure with! Jackson was also a wonderful architect. Yes, do please send photographs – drop me a line through the ‘contact’ section of the blog so that I have your address and I can then reply with mine.


  4. Dear Edmund Do you have a copy of my book The life and work of Samuel Sanders Teulon Victorian Architect? I would be pleased to send you a copy. Alan Teulon


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