Get to know: St Saviour's Church, Tetbury

On the second Monday of each month, we welcome members' of CCT to an exclusive lecture. Each lecture starts with a brief exploration of the historical and architectural highlights of one of the churches in our care. Today we are revisiting a story about social change, architectural beauty, and a church that, despite no longer being used for worship, still has an important story to tell. This story introduced Dr Chris WIngfield's inspiring lecture "The London Missionary Society Chapel at Kuruman, South Africa (and its Polynesian parallels)" in March 2025. 

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Now, Tetbury is no ordinary Cotswold town—it has a 1300-year history. The name comes from Tetta’s fortified site, referring to an abbess who founded a monastery here in the 7th century. 

Over time, the town flourished, especially in the 17th century when it became a centre for the Cotswold wool trade. Fast forward to the Victorian era, and we see an issue emerging—one that will lead to the creation of St Saviour’s Church. Back then, pew rental was the norm. Wealthy families could pay for the best seats, leaving poorer families with nowhere to sit—or even stand—during services. In Tetbury, this was a real problem: 

By 1842, over half of the town’s 3,000 residents were classed as “poor,” yet there were only 240 free seats in the grand parish church of St Mary’s. The solution? A chapel-of-ease—an additional church for those who couldn’t afford pew rents. St Saviour’s was built in 1848, at the edge of town on what was then called Cuckold’s Knapp-side. 

The name didn’t last long—perhaps the Victorians found it a little too scandalous! —and it was soon renamed New Church Street. It was Charles Fuge Lowder, the assistant curate of Tetbury, who played a key role in pushing for its construction. He later became famous for his work in the East End of London, particularly during the 1866 cholera epidemic. 

Today, he’s the only priest who served in Tetbury to be commemorated in the Calendar of the Church. But here’s the thing—within a generation, pew rents were abolished, and Tetbury’s growing nonconformist movement meant that St Saviour’s was no longer essential. Without a steady income, the parish couldn’t afford to maintain two churches. Over time, St Saviour’s fell into disrepair.

By 1891, it had decayed so much that the Bishop of Gloucester threatened to sequester the vicar’s assets to pay for repairs. Somehow, the money was found, and it remained open—just barely—until it was officially declared redundant in 1973. Luckily, it was taken into the care of the Churches Conservation Trust, who carried out major repairs, saving this remarkable building from ruin.

Now, let’s take a look at the church itself. Designed by Samuel Whitfield Daukes, an architect linked to the Ecclesiological Society, St Saviour’s is a pure expression of High Church Gothic Revival ideals.

It’s 14th-century Decorated Gothic in style, and Daukes had help from some famous names—John Hardman and Augustus Pugin, the same men behind much of the decoration in the Houses of Parliament!

The bellcote, complete with a spiky cross and elegant weathercock, adds to its charm. Interestingly, this weathercock was struck by lightning in 1975, causing the bellcote to collapse! The original was made by a Tetbury blacksmith, William Sealy, whose tradesman’s card was found inside.

There’s also a beautifully crafted south porch, complete with stone seats and open arcading. 

And the Cotswold stone-slated lychgate, adding to its timeless appeal.

When you step inside, you’ll find a near-perfectly preserved Tractarian church—perhaps the last of its kind in England.

Some standout features:

• The Stone Font: Paid for by Charles Lowder, it’s intricately decorated with the symbols of the Evangelists, the Agnus Dei, and the dove of the Holy Spirit. The counterweight for the font cover is—quite charmingly—a hanging dove on a chain.
• The Rood Screen: Made of finely carved timber, topped with what must have been an astonishing sight—a row of gas jets creating a burner bar. Imagine the health and safety nightmare today!
• The Stained Glass Windows: Created by Michael O’Connor, they depict biblical scenes like the Virgin and Child and the Baptism of Christ.
• The Gasolier: This elaborate crown of light once hung over the nave. Though it’s lost its original gilding and glass globes, it must have been a spectacular sight in its day.
• And finally, the alms box by the south door, with the inscription:
  "He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord." A fitting reminder of the church’s mission.

So, why did St Saviour’s matter so much in the 1840s? The answer lies in the huge social divide that shaped Tetbury and much of Gloucestershire at the time. The industrial revolution was in full swing, but rural communities like Tetbury hadn’t benefited in quite the same way as growing cities. Instead, poverty was widespread, and the parish’s poor relief systems were struggling to keep up.

One of the biggest issues? The workhouse. Tetbury had its own, following the 1834 Poor Law Amendment Act, which had made life for the poor even tougher. The workhouse was supposed to be a last resort, but in reality, many families had no choice but to enter, even though conditions inside were harsh, humiliating, and deeply feared. Women and children, in particular, suffered—though philanthropic groups tried to help, offering religious and moral guidance.

But outside of the workhouse, where did the poor go to church? Well, unless they could squeeze into the limited 240 free seats in St Mary’s, the answer was nowhere. Religion was still a central part of life, but without money for pew rents, the poorest members of society were effectively shut out of worship.

That’s why St Saviour’s was built. It wasn’t just a church—it was a statement. A place where those without wealth could worship with dignity. The architect Samuel Whitfield Daukes worked closely with High Church figures, and the church’s elaborate Gothic design reflected the idea that spirituality should be for everyone, not just the privileged few.

Funding it wasn’t easy. In fact, the vicar of Tetbury at the time, John Frampton, personally covered a £2,000 shortfall (the equivalent of hundreds of thousands today). Some people later mocked it as “Frampton’s Folly,” because pew rents were soon abolished, and the church became redundant. But in the moment, it was a bold and necessary act of social justice.

St Saviour’s was part of this wider philanthropic movement. It wasn’t just about faith—it was about community, dignity, and inclusion. And while its role as a parish church was short-lived, its existence speaks volumes about the generosity and priorities of 19th-century Tetbury.