Gilston is one of those churches - Little Hormead is another example - which is famous
for a single feature (the 13th century screen in Gilston's case, the Norman
ironwork in Little Hormead's) but which turns out, on investigation, to have
much more to offer.
The peaceful rural setting is the first attraction. Although it's
only a mile or so from the dual carriageway of the A414, and only a little
further from the centre of Harlow, it feels miles from anywhere. If you
approach from the south (as you almost certainly will - there are only farm
tracks from the other points of the compass) you cross the evocatively named
Golden Brook (which unfortunately doesn't live up to its billing - it's really
not much more than a muddy ditch), and there is something precious about the
country here. Once the church served a village but that was deserted and
disappeared centuries ago (perhaps after the Black Death of the mid 14th
century), and now there are only a few cottages and a farm to keep it company.
The church is essentially 13th century, as can be seen from the
lancet windows in the chancel, and, more picturesquely, the west door (which I
failed to photograph).
The flint lower third of the tower is presumably of the same date,
but the top two thirds were rebuilt in brick, probably in the late 16th
century. Why such a drastic rebuilding was necessary isn't recorded. The
demi-hexagonal stair turret that rises two-thirds of the way up is an appealing
feature, especially the pyramidal top.
The Victorian wooden porch is as attractive as the Victorian north
aisle (which replaced an earlier timber aisle) is unattractive - the knapped
flint seems oppressively dark and forbidding, and not at all in keeping with
the rest of the structure.
But it's the screen that we've come to see, so, now we've had a
cursory look around the outside, let's go in.
The interior is aisled but has no clerestory, and is thus dark; the light
switches are on your right as you enter. There are only a handful of 13th
century screens in the country*, so Gilston's example is of national
importance. It dates from late in that century. The lower two-thirds are
entirely plain; all the interest is in the top third, which has slim shafts
with moulded bases, bands and capitals, rather too big for the beanpole
balusters. These support trefoiled moulded arches with stylised flowers carved
in the spandrels, which give a hint of exuberance. The screen is nothing like
the extravagant ones that would be made over the next few centuries, but very
satisfying in its chaste simplicity.
It was reconstructed in the 19th century; what state it was in before then I'm not sure, but presumably fragmentary. The lower two-thirds are entirely modern; only two of the shafts (those in the doors) are old. All the arches and rosettes appear to be original.
The double piscina is roughly coeval with the screen. But what about the
plaster six-pointed cusped star and rosette above it? The Royal Commission onHistorical Monuments says that it’s also 13th century; the statutory listing implicitly agrees though states that the rosette was ‘applied later’,
which isn’t very helpful. I find this dating hard to accept. (Pevsner doesn’t
mention the piscina or its decoration.) Is it possible that the decoration is pre-archaeological
early Gothic Revival, late 18th or early 19th century?
The quatrefoil piers of the nave arcades are also 13th
century.
The oldest object in the church is the 12th century
Norman font, made from Purbeck marble (which isn't really marble, but a variety
of limestone). It's even plainer than the screen, with three round-headed
arches on each face. Fonts are normally octagonal, round or square, but this
one is hexagonal. Why? Who knows? I doubt that there's any great significance
to its shape - it was probably just a whim of the maker.
In the chancel are two fine baroque monuments. On the north wall
is one to Sir John Gore, d.1659. At the top recline two female figures; the one
on the left (symbolising Faith or Wisdom) holds a book, and that on the right
(Hope) an anchor. There’s a long laudatory Latin inscription (a laminated
translation is provided nearby), which states that he wished to have as his
epitaph simply the words ‘A Prisoner of Hope’ (in English)**. Amidst all the
elaborate carving are two plain black marble rectangles, at the top and bottom.
The top one has the inscription ‘A Prisoner of Hope’, while the bottom one states
(in Latin) that ‘William Gore, his son . . . had this poor monument erected and
would have had a finer one, if it had been allowed him to obey his own dutiful
feelings, rather than his father’s will and testament.’ This is an odd statement, as this cannot in all conscience be described as a 'poor monument', however faux-modest William was trying to be.
What seems to have happened is that originally Sir John’s monument
comprised simply the two rectangles, but that a later Gore, Sir Humphrey (with
a name like that he was perhaps destined to be a bit pompous), thought that
such a simple memorial was not suitable for his family’s high status.
Consequently he commissioned the monument we see today, which incorporates the
original plaques. His ambition is evident from the fact that he employed Joshua
Marshall, the Master-Mason to Charles II, ‘one of the greatest statuaries of
the 17th century’.***
Facing Sir John’s monument over the altar is that to his daughter
Bridget, d.1657, which is even better, and even baroquer, (Although it’s not
stylistically similar to Sir John’s it’s been convincingly ascribed to
Marshall.****) Bridget died in infancy, and her memorial is almost guaranteed
to bring a lump to the throat. The (English) inscription states, in part, that
she was ‘the most desired Fruit of many Prayers, and the joy of her Mothers
Heart, [who] was without Reluctancy, most chearfully resigned to God that gave
her, in her 4th yeare, the Blossom of her Age, the 10th
Febr 1657. In Testimony whereof, and of her dearest affection to her most
ravishing Memory, she hath erected this small Monument, . . . [as a sign] of
her eternal Gratitude for the short Enjoyment of so sweet a Mercy.’
Bridget stands within an oval frame, clutching her shroud to her
chest but looking very much alive. She wears a pearl necklace, and above her
two putti are in the act of crowning her with a coronet. On either side two
more putti are drawing back the curtains to reveal this affecting scene, but
undermine the solemn atmosphere by drying their eyes on the drapes. (This is a
motif found occasionally in 17th century funerary sculpture, and I
always think that it verges on the comically absurd.) Above is a complex
pediment with heraldry. It’s all very theatrical, yet the feeling behind it is
nakedly raw and sincere.
In the west window is all that remains of the medieval glass the
church once possessed. It’s the shield of Sir William Estfield, d.1447, who was
twice Lord Mayor of London and a Knight of the Bath. It features three maidens’
heads, with dishevelled hair. Surprisingly – at least, surprisingly to me – it
seems that in heraldry maidens’ heads are usually depicted as having untidy
hair.
Easy to miss, though it’s just to your right as you enter the
church, is this graffito on one of the nave pillars. It appears to show a
Puritan, identifiable by his capotain hat, striding purposefully, even
self-righteously, to the right with an upright staff in his left hand. He’s
within an outline simple house. What squats in the ‘attic’? It looks to me like
a dragon with its head to the left, hunched body and tail on the right. Or,
more prosaically, it could be a squirrel munching a leaf.
Does the graffito have a purpose, or is it just a random scribble?
It’s in a prominent position, so it’s tempting to think that it has a specific
meaning. The Gores, who arrived in Gilston in 1632, unsurprisingly supported
the Royalists in the Civil War, and presumably would have abhorred Puritanism.
Is it possible that the picture is a satirical squib, sanctioned by the Gores?
The church is usually locked, however a sign on the door tells you
where the keyholder lives (a couple of minutes walk away). The church will
remain, but unfortunately the golden countryside in which it stands will not. A
plan to build thousands of houses in ‘garden villages’ on the farmland north of
Harlow is speeding towards us like a juggernaut on the A414 (see here). People
need to live somewhere, and every house in existence stands on land that was
once virgin, but I do wonder about the wisdom of this scheme. Wouldn’t it be
better to build on brownfield sites, and to encourage economic growth in other
parts of the country so that the housing pressure is taken off the south-east?
Dressing up a plan that involves the destruction of hundreds of acres of fields
by putting the word ‘garden’ in it fools no one.
* Other examples are found at Stanton Harcourt, Oxon; Thurcaston,
Leics; Geddington, Northants; and Sparsholt, Berks. They're all of similar
design, though the floral decoration in the spandrels is unique to Gilston so
far as I know. Presumably many more 13th century screens once
existed, but were replaced by more elaborate ones later in the Middle Ages.
** ‘A Prisoner of Hope’, which is a biblical quotation, must mean a
hopeful prisoner rather than one imprisoned by hope.
*** Rupert Gunnis, Dictionary
of British Sculptors 1660-1850.
**** Marshall did design and carve monuments with standing
figures in their shrouds, for example that to the Noels, of 1664, in Chipping Campden, Glos..
Some lovely details that one might normally miss, but is there any information on the stained glass? Stained glass is often over-looked, but is very much part of historic fabric, even if most of it is Victorian.
ReplyDeleteI'm a big fan of Victorian stained glass, and often write about it here on Icknield Indagations; I can't remember why I didn't say anything about it at Gilston - I probably just thought I'd written enough already. One day I'll revise my description; I see that much of the glass is attributed to Clayton and Bell, one of my favourite stained glass manufacturers. The 3rd edition (2019) of The Buildings of England (generally known as 'Pevsner' after its original author) gives a lot more detail about Victorian stained glass than the 1st and 2nd. Much the best online source is https://www.stainedglassrecords.org/home.asp?NOC=NOC, which covers only the south-east so far, but that includes Herts. It lists every 19th/20th century window and the basics of what is known about them. Hope this is helpful. Best wishes, David
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