St. John the Baptist, Aldenham.
Green men and cowboy builders.
Aldenham is in an area of London that few people would consider a suitable destination for a day out, in a slice of green belt squashed between the M1 and the M25, more parkland and golf course than farmland or real countryside. The big church lounges beside the expansive village green, its spire – fatter than the usual Hertfordshire spike - sticking up proud of the trees above a tall tower begun around 1250 but not to be completed for over two hundred years. A certain amount of chaos resulted from the lack of a master plan; the aisles and chapels were all built at different times so the arcades don’t match and limp along at different heights; and as so often the chancel is unaligned with the nave and the chancel arch is well off centre. Builders never change; in the chancel there are even a different number of arches on each side. Around the year 1400, a single master mason seems to have been taken on, completing the tower, north aisle and clerestory with mouldings that accord with the known work of Thomas Wolvey, who worked at Westminster under the great Henry Yevele. The east end was much rebuilt after bomb damage in the Second World War, and the window over the altar by the local stained glass designer Christopher Webb of St. Albans shows angels holding the church, both in flames and restored. There is a good Fifteenth century roof over the nave, coloured over the east end, and carved with small figures of angels. One of these doll like figures is fixed to the bottom of a tie beam and holds a working pulley, a rare original fitting probably made to take a light.
Green men and cowboy builders.
Aldenham is in an area of London that few people would consider a suitable destination for a day out, in a slice of green belt squashed between the M1 and the M25, more parkland and golf course than farmland or real countryside. The big church lounges beside the expansive village green, its spire – fatter than the usual Hertfordshire spike - sticking up proud of the trees above a tall tower begun around 1250 but not to be completed for over two hundred years. A certain amount of chaos resulted from the lack of a master plan; the aisles and chapels were all built at different times so the arcades don’t match and limp along at different heights; and as so often the chancel is unaligned with the nave and the chancel arch is well off centre. Builders never change; in the chancel there are even a different number of arches on each side. Around the year 1400, a single master mason seems to have been taken on, completing the tower, north aisle and clerestory with mouldings that accord with the known work of Thomas Wolvey, who worked at Westminster under the great Henry Yevele. The east end was much rebuilt after bomb damage in the Second World War, and the window over the altar by the local stained glass designer Christopher Webb of St. Albans shows angels holding the church, both in flames and restored. There is a good Fifteenth century roof over the nave, coloured over the east end, and carved with small figures of angels. One of these doll like figures is fixed to the bottom of a tie beam and holds a working pulley, a rare original fitting probably made to take a light.
The church is dark with Victorian glass, and memorial tablets cover the walls. More than thirty people were commemorated by brasses, none big or flash, but a good series showing costume of the Tudor and Jacobean eras. In the south chapel there is a grand double tomb built for two ladies of the Crowmer family in the early Fifteenth century. There are two chest tombs bearing effigies under two canopies, built across the earlier windows in the south wall. The shields bear the Crowmer arms of three crows, a rebus or play on words that must have helped heralds remember which name went with which coat of arms. The other shields, held up by angels on the spandrels of every cusp and along the base, are more problematic, seemingly repeating Beauchamp arms when none is known to have married a Crowmer. In the spandrels of the canopies there are big fearsome green men: their heads sprouting foliage of the late Decorated type that looks rather like seaweed. Such figures had meaning when nearby Borehamwood was an oak forest full of acorn-eating boars, and the undergrowth still hid dangers. Two others lurk amongst the fleurons on the tomb chests, and another on the end of the canopies. Both ladies lie with their feet on dogs, with angels at their pillows, wearing bejewelled clothing with ornately decorated panels; one sports a veil, the other a chic headdress with a twisted flowery wreath.
In the north east chapel stands an urbane early Eighteenth century memorial to John Coghill and wife; shroud wrapped but fully clothed they restlessly recline wearing boots in bed, with him looking like the loser of a domestic dispute.
Outside in the churchyard is a big urn memorial to Lt-Gen.Robert Burne, who died in 1825, and whose battle honours cover three continents, including the battles of Buenos Ayres in 1806-7, where British forces were roundly thrashed by a rag tag alliance of locals nationalists, not once but twice. The Spanish authorities had handed the city to the British invaders on a plate and run away, but a mixture of Argentine locals, ex-slaves and Paraguayans formed militias and threw the British out, and when they returned reinforced, did it again. The British lost around half of their men, and were forced to surrender, deemed one of the worst set-backs that the army had ever known. Local self-confidence was boosted by this Latin American victory, and the perceived weakness of governing forces loosened Spanish control. The British may have swiftly forgotten this humiliation in the light of victory over Napoleon, but in Argentina the memory feeds hopes of retaking the Falkland islands and beating the Redcoats again.
This big dark village church is not often open, though I’ve been lucky whenever I’ve gone in finding someone there. Check first on 10923 854209; the church lies centrally on church Lane, close to the green.
This big dark village church is not often open, though I’ve been lucky whenever I’ve gone in finding someone there. Check first on 10923 854209; the church lies centrally on church Lane, close to the green.
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