St. Etheldreda, Hatfield.
Church and estate.
The picturesque old town of Hatfield hangs like a tail from the old Palace gatehouse down the hill to the main London road, going down from the politest of Georgian houses by the church on the hill to the rustic overhanging gables of the Tudor inns below. All depended on the wealth at the top, an architectural model of trickle-down economics: sprawling luxury at the apex with cramped slums at the base. Above even the church is the old brick Palace built by Cardinal Morton at the end of the middle ages, to be taken by the King at the dissolution. Here Elizabeth was imprisoned by her sister, and here she finally became queen. By then run down, the next King forcibly swapped it for Theobalds, the up to date mansion of his Chief Minister Robert Cecil, who thought the old place only suitable for stables, and built the great Jacobean prodigy known as Hatfield House beside it. The old brick Palace now hosts weddings and corporate feasts, and behind it the stableyard has become the sort of tasteful shopping experience that locals sensibly shun. The House has its own chapel with superb Jacobean glass, but the church beside the gate is still its burial place, despite any friction between House and town. Massive early eighteenth century iron gates by Jean Tijou stand at the entrance to the graveyard, brought from St. Paul’s cathedral in London. The churchyard slopes steeply down to the half-timbered houses below, with the Cecils now buried in their own ghetto at the top. You can just see the massive green copper capped chest tomb of Robert Cecil, the third Marquess of Salisbury, three times Prime Minister to Queen Victoria, behind the high gates and hedges that fence wealth around. The church’s west tower faces over the town, and is the least restored part of the building, which has an unusual plan with transepts having west chapels of their own, and the chancel having side chapels of differing sizes. That to the north east has unusual buttresses, though little else outside would give away its Jacobean date. Much else was the work of David Brandon, who in 1872 carried out one of those destructive “restorations” of that time, changing the windows from Perpendicular to geometric Decorated.
Church and estate.
The picturesque old town of Hatfield hangs like a tail from the old Palace gatehouse down the hill to the main London road, going down from the politest of Georgian houses by the church on the hill to the rustic overhanging gables of the Tudor inns below. All depended on the wealth at the top, an architectural model of trickle-down economics: sprawling luxury at the apex with cramped slums at the base. Above even the church is the old brick Palace built by Cardinal Morton at the end of the middle ages, to be taken by the King at the dissolution. Here Elizabeth was imprisoned by her sister, and here she finally became queen. By then run down, the next King forcibly swapped it for Theobalds, the up to date mansion of his Chief Minister Robert Cecil, who thought the old place only suitable for stables, and built the great Jacobean prodigy known as Hatfield House beside it. The old brick Palace now hosts weddings and corporate feasts, and behind it the stableyard has become the sort of tasteful shopping experience that locals sensibly shun. The House has its own chapel with superb Jacobean glass, but the church beside the gate is still its burial place, despite any friction between House and town. Massive early eighteenth century iron gates by Jean Tijou stand at the entrance to the graveyard, brought from St. Paul’s cathedral in London. The churchyard slopes steeply down to the half-timbered houses below, with the Cecils now buried in their own ghetto at the top. You can just see the massive green copper capped chest tomb of Robert Cecil, the third Marquess of Salisbury, three times Prime Minister to Queen Victoria, behind the high gates and hedges that fence wealth around. The church’s west tower faces over the town, and is the least restored part of the building, which has an unusual plan with transepts having west chapels of their own, and the chancel having side chapels of differing sizes. That to the north east has unusual buttresses, though little else outside would give away its Jacobean date. Much else was the work of David Brandon, who in 1872 carried out one of those destructive “restorations” of that time, changing the windows from Perpendicular to geometric Decorated.
Once past the Victorian porch, the wide nave holds little to detain us, especially since the complicated spaces of the east end draw us on. The south transept is particularly interesting, and surprisingly lightly restored, unexpected after the exterior. The east wall retains Thirteenth century work, cut into by the later entry to the north chapel, and the big south window contains Morris glass, designed by Burne-Jones, fitted in 1894, which fills the transept with peacock blues and greens. There’s a superb spatial effect of looking from the low western chapel, through the arch to the transept, on through the chancel to the chapel beyond. The arch between chapel and transept has rows of fat dogtooth mouldings running up both sides to Early English stiffleaf capitals; the south arcade of the chancel has angels in place of capitals, whilst to the north is the rarity of a Jacobean Tuscan arcade. Most such classical arches have been gothicked away by restoring Victorians, but here the Cecil aegis held sway, and their chapel was given a different kind of makeover, retaining the arcade of 1618 and filling it with early eighteenth century Flemish ironwork brought from Amiens cathedral. It is in this Salisbury chapel, surrounded by late nineteenth century piety in the form of Salviati mosaics and Clayton and Bell glass and murals that stands the superb tomb of the builder of the House, Robert Cecil, First Earl of Salisbury, who died in 1612. The chapel was built to take this marvellous tomb, carved by Maximilian Colt in black and white marble, an amazing conceptual concoction of the mediaeval past and the classical future. The Earl lies in the robes of state holding his staff of office, high on a slab held up by the four kneeling Virtues of Temperance, Justice, Fortitude and Prudence, whist below lies the memento mori of a full sized skeleton lying on a rush mat: a blast from the past of the future of all. Next to this splendour lie two rather more humble but affecting memorials which would be top of the bill almost anywhere else. A small thirteenth century knight is simply defined in Purbeck marble, just spear, head and feet peeping out from beneath his shield; whilst to the north lies a relaxed shrouded corpse in rough marble relief. Sir Richard Curle as carved by Nicholas Stone in 1617 is an impressionist sketch next to the polished detail of the Cecil monument. Between this chapel and the chancel rests an effigy of the third Marquess, whose 1903 tomb we’ve glimpsed outside. This is a competent bronze by Sir William Goscombe John, a copy of his third memorial in Westminster abbey.
Across the chancel lies the late Perpendicular south chapel, with shield-holding angels on the capitals of its arcade and the roof resting on gilded corbels, its splendour only superseded by Cecil classicism. Here are the tombs of local merchants and gentry, particularly two Brocket women like Elizabethan dolls, stiff in ruff and farthingale, their brother’s canopied tomb slowly collapsing beside. Above remain some funerary arms, these being old gauntlets and helmets topped with heraldic crests to sit on the coffins of the armigerous. Sometimes these are fakes conjured up by undertakers, but these are out-of-date armour polished up for the job, their crests recently refurbished. A later tomb by Rysbrack in Baroque white marble has busts bracketed by angels rising with a rococo rush on each side, and there are one or two other townsfolks’ tombs here, but as in Old Hatfield outside, it’s the Cecils that still hold sway.
The church is on Fore Street in Old Hatfield, and only accessible in the afternoons when the house is open. The local rector can be called on 01707 262072.
The church is on Fore Street in Old Hatfield, and only accessible in the afternoons when the house is open. The local rector can be called on 01707 262072.
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