Items made of metal always attract criticism
NEW railings on the Prom side of Cheltenham’s Imperial Gardens have aroused a good deal of public debate in the town of late.
And you will have noticed that this newspaper’s letters page has included missives from readers expressing enthusiasm for the ironwork from some and dislike from others.
Curiously, anything made of metal that appears on local streets seems to generate comment for and against.
When the statue of the Aircraft Worker was unveiled in Gloucester’s Northgate Street a few years ago there were those who applauded and those who were appalled.
The same was true of the Hare and Minotaur statue in Cheltenham. To many it was an invaluable work of art that enhanced the town centre. To an equal number it was a waste of money, an eyesore, could have been done by a child of five and so on.
Whether you approve of the new railings in Imperial Gardens or not, you’d have to agree that it’s been fascinating over recent weeks to watch them being installed.
The exacting work was undertaken in much the same way, using much the same materials, as when the original railings were installed.
Each hand wrought upright, set in lead, stands in a plinth of cut and dressed stone quarried.
And like it or not the work has restored this quarter of town to the way it was planned to look.
Montpellier was developed by Henry Thompson and his son Pearson in the first decades of the 19th century, with the spa (now The Ivy) surmounted by its copper rotunda as the focal point.
The original railings were cut down by volunteer groups, including schools, in 1940/41 along with hundreds of tons of ornamental ironwork from the town.
At the time the government urged people to collect the iron so that it could be melted down and recycled as weapons for use in the struggle with Nazi Germany.
In truth, the exercise was designed to boost morale in the country after the humiliating evacuation of British and allied troops from Dunkirk.
Rumour has it that Cheltenham’s ironwork was taken by goods train to Swindon and dumped in a siding to rust away.
It’s unlikely that a single scrap of the town’s decorative metal ever caused Hitler the slightest nuisance.
Pre-second World war photos of Montpellier Gardens, Imperial Gardens and elsewhere in the town show us that Cheltenham with its railings looked much more formal, more enclosed and constrained.
When they were cut down the town relaxed, like an old lady grateful to get out of her corsets.
In recent years railings in other parts of town that were removed in the war have been replaced.
Residents of Lypiatt Terrace, for example, banded together in 2002 and had a couple of hundred metres of iron railings re-installed in front of the splendid, Italianate range of buildings they call home.
Montpellier Garden’s new railings have restored this part of town to its original design and, of course, changed the character of the area too.
Ironwork of a different kind played an important role in Gloucester’s past, as the city was the centre of bell making in England for six centuries. Foremost among city firms in the industry was the dynasty of bell founders, founded by Abraham Rudhall and continued by his son Abraham and descendants Abel, Thomas, Charles and John.
Born in Ross-on-wye, Abraham set up his works in the Oxbode (on the spot now occupied by the Post Office) and cast his first bell in 1684, which was installed in the tower of Oddington church near Stow on the Wold.
Over the next two centuries Rudhall’s cast 4,521 bells.
In Gloucestershire, a third of all bells came from the city foundry. There are numerous local examples still in regular use, often inscribed.
A bell at Withington carries the words “When you ring we’ll sweetly sing”.
When Badgeworth church commissioned Rudhall’s for a bell to put in place of one cast by a competitor of theirs named Alexander Rigbe, the Gloucester firm inscribed the replacement “Badgworth ringers they were mad, Because Rigbe made me bad. But Abel Rudhall as you see, Hath made me bigger than Rigbe.”
Gloucester cathedral, Tewkesbury Abbey and many others (including Westminster Abbey), have Rudhall’s best in the belfry and the firm also exported to Europe and North America.
The last two bells cast by Rudhall’s to find a local home were installed in the tower of Dymock church in 1829.
In about 1835 John Rudhall, last in the family line, sold the company to Thomas Mears, bell founder of Whitechapel, London and the Gloucester foundry closed.