Alfred Waterhouse - A Letter across Time.
More than a hundred and twenty years has passed since the great Victorian architect Alfred Waterhouse laid down his pen for the final time in 1905.
Renowned for the Natural History Museum in London, Manchester Town Hall, and scores of schools, banks, and public buildings across Britain, few realise that his first public commission came not in a great city, but in the quiet township of Ince-in-Makerfield.
In this spirit, we imagine what Alfred Waterhouse might say if he could see his first public buildings as they are today — and what hopes he might hold for their future.
What follows is his letter across time, a voice from the past, written as though the stones themselves had spoken.
It was in the year 1855, aged 25, early in the course of my architectural career, that I was afforded my first opportunity to undertake a public commission — a commission that would quietly, yet significantly, shape the path of my future practice. The Ince-in-Makerfield Burial Board, recognising the need for a dignified and well-ordered cemetery for its growing industrial community, issued a call for designs for two mortuary chapels, a lodge, and ornamental entrance gates.
I submitted my proposals with great care and conviction. Though a small scheme in terms of cost and scale, I saw in this project a noble opportunity: to dignify the act of mourning through considered design, and to provide a sense of spiritual calm amid the industrial vigour of Ince.
The two chapels were conceived in the Gothic Revival style, each tailored for distinct religious uses — one Anglican, one Roman Catholic and Nonconformist — yet arranged symmetrically and sharing architectural language. In this I sought to express, in quiet masonry, the equality of all before death, regardless of creed. The lodge, placed near the gates, was designed to reflect domestic charm and utility, and the entrance itself set a respectful tone for visitors entering the grounds.
When the Burial Board accepted my design, it marked my first public success. The completed buildings drew favourable notice, and this modest commission soon led to larger works and, later, more ambitious civic and institutional buildings, including the Manchester Assize Courts and the Natural History Museum in South Kensington.
Ince, in short, was the seed from which much else would grow.
Alas, time has not been kind. I have learned that the chapels now stand, roof in poor condition and forlorn, their details weathered, their dignity obscured by invasive vegetation and decades of neglect. It is painful — as any architect will tell you — to see one’s early work thus decayed. But what brings me hope is the growing movement to restore and renew them.
And yet, there is hope.
I understand that a movement is afoot — led by caring citizens, local historians, and a preservation trust — to restore the chapels and bring them into new life. This effort, I applaud without reservation. A structure, once erected with purpose, need not be fixed forever in its original function. If the chapels can no longer serve their sacred purpose in the form once intended, then let them be adapted — with sensitivity — to new uses that honour their past while serving the present.
Be it as a heritage centre, a community gathering space, a place of learning, or reflection — the essence of these buildings, and the values they embody, can yet endure. Restoration is not merely dressed stone and lime mortar, but about memory and meaning.
To see my first public work not only remembered, but renewed, is a source of quiet satisfaction. And I trust that the people of Ince, and those who labour to preserve their heritage, will ensure that these chapels continue to speak — not of decay and forgetting, but of care, continuity, and the enduring dignity of well-wrought architecture.
Yours from afar.
Alfred Waterhouse, Yattendon, Berkshire