St.Ippolyts, Ippollitts.
Unstable stories.
St.Ippolyts sits high on its hill, the road climbing steeply past its west tower to the little village green, just big enough for a half timbered house and a few cottages, a world away from nearby Stevenage. A lot was rebuilt in Victorian times, reusing as much of the original stone as possible, but nothing outside reveals the age of the church, the oldest windows being fourteenth century in style. The north porch which looks out over the Bedfordshire flatlands is fifteenth century flint, whilst the south porch is timber framed, with the sides filled in with Jacobean brick. The fifteenth century tower is heavily buttressed to prevent its slipping down the hillside and instead of the usual spike on top, is topped by a leadwork plinth and cross added in 1636. The chancel has simple but elegant windows in the Decorated style, and two fine early Georgian tombstones set into its wall, an often ignored artform that has suffered much philistine destruction in the name of practicality and tidiness.
Unstable stories.
St.Ippolyts sits high on its hill, the road climbing steeply past its west tower to the little village green, just big enough for a half timbered house and a few cottages, a world away from nearby Stevenage. A lot was rebuilt in Victorian times, reusing as much of the original stone as possible, but nothing outside reveals the age of the church, the oldest windows being fourteenth century in style. The north porch which looks out over the Bedfordshire flatlands is fifteenth century flint, whilst the south porch is timber framed, with the sides filled in with Jacobean brick. The fifteenth century tower is heavily buttressed to prevent its slipping down the hillside and instead of the usual spike on top, is topped by a leadwork plinth and cross added in 1636. The chancel has simple but elegant windows in the Decorated style, and two fine early Georgian tombstones set into its wall, an often ignored artform that has suffered much philistine destruction in the name of practicality and tidiness.
Inside the nave walls have had arches punched through in the early fourteenth century; above are the blocked remains of the original eleventh century Norman windows, outlined in tufa, an imported stone of the time. The arcades rest on big characterful heads, with one in a scold’s bridle opposite an unshaven man with shaggy locks, and a gurning face which sticks a pointed tongue out at the facing bishop. In the south aisle the contemporary effigy of a priest lies with his feet on a man resting on one elbow, all this sculpture quite possibly by the same discerning hand with its feeling for realism and perception of mass. This unknown mason may also be responsible for the font, with its short stubby shafts seemingly squashed by the bowl. This sits behind the rood screen which has been fitted into the tower arch. The windows in the chancel contain good Victorian glass, with Faith and Hope in the 1850s glass to the south, which invokes Christ’s charity for a dead child, and glass of the 1860s to the east, which shows Christ as a child teaching in the Temple above a row of old testament prophets and kings. This window is by Clayton and Bell, and is an excellent example of their best work before mass production and changing tastes enfeebled their style. Here excellent drawing, strong line and colour add up to a window that is both beautiful and easily legible, a perfect marriage of art and craft. Reset into the south aisle close to the entrance is a voussoir of an Early English doorway, with a short length of dogtooth moulding and several of the graffiti crosses so common around doorways. Due to a mix-up between the patron saint Hippolytus with a mythical saint (who was torn apart by horses) the story has sprung up of local Templar knights having come here to be blessed before going on crusade, and marking these crosses with their swords from horseback. Whilst this mediaeval mistake brought horses to be cured here, it is doubtful whether any knights lived at their locally farmed grange, and such a feat would seem physically impossible in any case. This is a prime example of legend being based on misunderstanding, one of several in credulous Hertfordshire. A whole story of a dragon slayer sprang up around a tomb in Brent Pelham, and two headstones spawned a giant who helped the Weston poor.
This is not a big church, but it has a warmth about it that owes much to the fourteenth century mason and his liking for simple geometry and generously rounded forms; it fits its ancient site to a T, and the church is always open. For wardens phone 01462 432117 or 01462 432445.
All rights reserved for this entire site. Copyright reserved to stiffleaf for all text and images, which may not be reproduced without my permission.
All rights reserved for this entire site. Copyright reserved to stiffleaf for all text and images, which may not be reproduced without my permission.