Oxhey chapel.
Estate chapel.
When Pevsner visited just after the war, he praised the retention of older buildings amongst the expanding estates; but a visitor now will find all else swept away, and only intervention by the Churches Conservation Trust saved the small Jacobean chapel that alone stands against the tidal waves of Frank Gibberd’s dream homes, the type for the masses that he eschewed for himself. From the outside it appears as a small chequered box of flint and brick, the pattern only missing where an eastern vestry once stood. The windows have the simplest of lights, and along with the west doorway are almost Tudor in style. The gables and bellcot were rebuilt in 1963, the chapel having become almost derelict by that time. The narthex is part of the late Victorian restoration by J.E.K. Cutts, and so is the collegiate seating inside, with canopied pews to the west. The shell headed panel on the original west door is a clue to the 1612 date of construction; inside there is a brass plate giving details of the foundation of the chapel on the estate of the judge Sir James Altham. The timber tiebeam roof here is almost identical to that erected in the nave of nearby Watford more than a century before, even down to the gothic detail of the spandrels, the judge wanting a chapel orthodox in every way. This was the man who presided over the Pendle witch trials, who had heretics burned at Smithfield, who wanted above all to keep in with King James. On the wall he kneels in the heavy red robes of a baron of the exchequer, his third wife behind him on the big monument of 1617 wearing the starched black peak of that time.
Estate chapel.
When Pevsner visited just after the war, he praised the retention of older buildings amongst the expanding estates; but a visitor now will find all else swept away, and only intervention by the Churches Conservation Trust saved the small Jacobean chapel that alone stands against the tidal waves of Frank Gibberd’s dream homes, the type for the masses that he eschewed for himself. From the outside it appears as a small chequered box of flint and brick, the pattern only missing where an eastern vestry once stood. The windows have the simplest of lights, and along with the west doorway are almost Tudor in style. The gables and bellcot were rebuilt in 1963, the chapel having become almost derelict by that time. The narthex is part of the late Victorian restoration by J.E.K. Cutts, and so is the collegiate seating inside, with canopied pews to the west. The shell headed panel on the original west door is a clue to the 1612 date of construction; inside there is a brass plate giving details of the foundation of the chapel on the estate of the judge Sir James Altham. The timber tiebeam roof here is almost identical to that erected in the nave of nearby Watford more than a century before, even down to the gothic detail of the spandrels, the judge wanting a chapel orthodox in every way. This was the man who presided over the Pendle witch trials, who had heretics burned at Smithfield, who wanted above all to keep in with King James. On the wall he kneels in the heavy red robes of a baron of the exchequer, his third wife behind him on the big monument of 1617 wearing the starched black peak of that time.
At the east end is a gorgeous reredos added in 1688, with the fat Salomonic spirals of its Corinthian capped columns echoing in the communion rail surrounding sacred space. A flaming urn breaks the pediment above the encrusted escutcheon crowning the Decalogue written below, and on each side pedimented panels hold creed and Lord’s prayer, with more swags and escutcheons off to the sides. It’s claimed that this woodwork all came from the house, but this is not something cobbled together from scraps. With the reredos in place, the small eastern doorway was blocked, and the wooden vestry removed. A contemporary doorcase remains by the western entrance, and a wonderfully foliate font bowl and cover both carved of wood in the seventeenth century came into the church in Victorian times. Also at the west end is another wall monument, that to John Bucknall who died in 1790, an elegant late Georgian memorial in whites and greys with a female mourning over an urn, paid for by his friends – presumably those to whom he left his £150,000 fortune, just as long as they changed their names. At the east end of the chapel two pieces of richly carved furniture have come to rest. On the left stands a tall throne like chair with lion finials above a back bearing a spirited wolf disgorging a vine from his mouth and oak branches from his rear, the seat box made from linen fold panels. To the right is a settle with its three flamboyant tracery panels divided by spiral and scaly columns topped by figures of saints with pinnacles above, with a merchant’s mark on the middle and filigree work top. Both look convincingly early sixteenth century, but Victorians were very good at such stuff. They are both so enjoyable that their date matters little; together with the other fine furnishings they make this small church well worth seeking out despite its position.
This redundant church is in Gosforth Lane, 5 minutes walk from the station, and is in the hands of the Churches Conservation Trust (0845 302 2760); the key is with a worker in the modern church centre next door, but ring 0208 420 1364 first to make sure he will be there.
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All rights reserved for this entire site. Copyright reserved to stiffleaf for all text and images, which may not be reproduced without my permission.