Holwell church, Herts

I see that it's almost eight months since I last wrote here. My excuse is that I've been using that time to write a book about Hertfordshire churches, due to be published by Amberley in Spring 2024, but it's only a short book so that excuse is only partially true. In fact, life got in the way, as it often does. 

I notice that in my absence this blog has passed the 200,000 - a fifth of a million - page views. 

Holwell lies a few hundred yards/metres from the Bedfordshire border; in fact it was in that county until 1897. The church was rebuilt in 1878-9, but so thoroughly that it's in effect a Victorian building with a small number of reused medieval features. Unusually, although the latter are worth seeing, they're outshone by those of the nineteenth century.

The architect was Ewan Christian, who restored Brent Pelham, Hemel Hempstead, Sandon and Westmill (and built Hertford Heath). He incorporated into the new church a 15th century north door (now blocked) and piscina (now in the north wall), and, according to the Statutory Listing, 'a 14th century string course across the east wall with a hollow chamfer and a north end terminating in a longsnouted beast with closed wings and issuing from its mouth a wavy stem ornamented with ball flowers, human heads and leaves'. I'd very much like to see that, but I'm sorry to say that I completely missed it on my visit. (Bettley/Pevsner don't mention it either, so perhaps they overlooked it too.)

However I didn't miss the brass commemorating Robert Wodehouse, the rector, who died in 1515. This is particularly interesting as it doesn't contain his image (unlike, say, that of the Rev John Wryght, d.1519, in Clothall), but instead features an inscription, a chalice and wafer, and two wild men, usually known as woodwoses. (There's a very relaxed woodwose lolling at the foot of a tomb in Aldbury.) 

They feature on the Wodehouse coat of arms; they're both hairy and naked (as you'd expect wild men of the woods to be) except for a vine wound around their waists, and have long tangled hair. They carry simple clubs, branches torn from trees. They're crudely etched, but I like them. As far as I know, they're the only woodwoses on brasses in an English church (if you know otherwise, please let me know).*

In the door between the south aisle and the vestry (so there's little light behind it, which it difficult to see and photograph) is a 16th century Flemish roundel of the Nativity, which all the authorities overlook.

The Statutory Listing does notice this piece of glass, just above the roundel, of a bishop, of indeterminate date. It looks like painted, enamelled glass; possibly 18th or early 19th century.

The church itself is routine but not unpleasing. The long sweep of the roof on the south of the nave and the south of the chancel is eye-catching. The south-west tower (with a pyramidal roof) doubles as the porch, like Clothall's (but, unlike Clothall, doesn't treble as the ringing chamber). The style is loosely the Victorians' and my favourite, Decorated, though there's a Perpendicular window on the north.

The mosaic reredos, installed in 1880, provides a glowing focal point for the church, embellished with spheres of coloured glass. The golds and deep blues are especially effective, and altogether it must be one of the best pieces of work of its kind in the county. Could it be by Powell and Sons, who were responsible for the outstanding mosaics in Waterford?

There are other, less spectacular, mosaics on the floor around the altar and font.

Also in the chancel is a coloured marble aumbry (the Statutory Listing calls it a ciborium), presumably from a similar date to the mosaics; coloured glass spheres feature here too. It's unclear if the columns are meant to be classical (Corinthian, perhaps?) or Gothic (stiff-leaf, perhaps?). I've not seen anything like it elsewhere.

The pulpit also seems to be a part of the same scheme as the mosaics.

The excellent Te Deum window in the north wall is by Hardman, 1879.

The equally good east window is by the same maker and of the same date; it shows the Nativity, Crucifixion and Noli Me Tangere.

Most of the other windows are by A L Moore, and aren't very good. But one of St Alban (1907) incorporates a near-photographic representation of the cathedral, when Grimthorpe's west front was only a quarter of a century old.

Holwell church was open when I visited, and gave the impression of being generally accessible. the church proves the adage that even not especially exciting-looking churches can have plenty of interest if you're willing to look for it.

* Googling comes up with two examples, both in Germany. See https://www.flickr.com/.../mediev.../sets/72157623737729363/ and 

Essendon church, Herts

 

Essendon church is, externally at least, a handsome (if a little pompous) Gothic Revival building in the style of the early 14th century, dating from 1882-4. (The tower is 15th century.) The limestone chequerwork relieves what would otherwise be unrelenting expanses of knapped flint (never the most attractive material). The architect was William White (1825-1900), who restored Bengeo and Sandridge.  

The interior is one of the most Stygian I know, even on a bright sunny day with the lights on. There is one outstanding object that makes a visit most desirable: this is the black basalt jasperware Wedgwood font of 1778, one of only five made. Unfortunately it's not currently on display. (A photo and more information about it can be found here.) Instead the original wooden pedestal bears a photo of itself and the font, like a piece of conceptual art.

The chunky Victorian font is by Harry Hems (1842-1916), who also carved the capitals of the arcades. 

There are a few monuments from the old church before it was rebuilt. This brass is to William Tooke (d.1588) and his wife Ales (ie Alice); they were married 56 years and had nine sons and three daughters, all of whom dutifully kneel with their parents. 

The best object in the church (given that the Wedgwood font is only notionally present) is this elaborate monument to William Prestley (d.1664). It has a vestigial pediment not only at the top but also at the bottom, an outrageously baroque conceit.

You might hope that, whatever it lacks, the church at least contains some good Victorian stained glass. Suffice it to say that the only window I thought it worth taking a picture of is this one from 1893 showing Doubting Thomas, and it's by Kempe; any regular readers this blog might have will be aware of my antipathy to almost everything he laid hands on.

On the night of 2/3 September 1916 the largest Zeppelin raid of the First World War took place; a force of fourteen airships attacked London, the south east, East Anglia and the east coast as far north as Hull. Zeppelin L16 crossed the Norfolk coast and dropped bombs near Norwich and Bury St Edmunds, and then in or near Harpenden and Redbourn in Hertfordshire; these all proved to be almost entirely ineffectual. In the early hours of Sunday the third, the crew of L16 witnessed another airship, SL11, being pinpointed by searchlights and fired at by anti-aircraft guns, and turned away to avoid being attacked themselves. Finding themselves over Essendon, they dropped 25 bombs (though it's unclear if this was an intentional attack or whether they were simply lightening their load in order to be able to escape more quickly; if the latter, it's ironic that their only unaimed bombs were the only ones to cause any significant damage). Later they dropped another bomb on Aston, near Stevenage, and one more near Bury St Edmunds.

Meanwhile, airship SL11 (which had a wooden frame and was thus not strictly a Zeppelin) had been attacked by a B.E.2c biplane flown by Lieutenant William Leefe Robinson and crashed in Cuffley, killing all sixteen crew members. This was the first airship to be brought down over Britain, and Robinson was immediately awarded the VC. (Sadly, although he survived the war he died in the Spanish flu epidemic, in December 1918, aged only 23.)

Zeppelin L16 destroyed three cottages in Essendon and several others were damaged; tragically, the two daughters of the village blacksmith (aged 26 and 12) were killed. The east end of the church was also hit, as a plaque records, and was rebuilt within a year by Charles James Blomfield (1862-1932) (the architect to Salisbury and  Chester cathedrals). One curious feature of this is at the south east corner where there's what looks like an angle buttress with a window in it.

The 21st century has made two major additions. The bell ringing window, installed in 2003, is a big disappointment. The colours are feeble, and I can't be the only person who thinks that the shape in the central light is like a condom, and those in the two outer lights like monstrous earthworms.

Much better are the church rooms, by David Kirby, from 2001-3, which echo the style of the church very adroitly.

Essendon church is usually locked.