For, as Pevsner put it: “There is nothing in this exterior to prepare for the shock in store upon entering” . That “shock” is caused by “The mass of woodwork indiscriminately got together by Robert Henley, Lord Ongley in 1841 etc. It oppresses you from all sides; it is utterly disjointed...” . I think we might take it that the Blessed Nikolaus was not a fan then! Simon Jenkins was moved to write “the resulting atmosphere is that of an alpine chalet built into an Edwardian public school”. I am sure that Simon knows a lot more about public schools and alpine chalets than I do so I suppose he knows what the hell he’s talking about. I would stick with gloomy and compellingly bizarre.
The first thing you notice as you go in is that the odd arrangement of the benches in the nave. The southern range faces across the church while the northern benches faces east in the traditional way. That is, if you are not first distracted by the extraordinary carvings of two snakes undulating along the front of the south range. Both the southern and northern benches have carved serrations on their backs so that when you look at them face-on at ground level they look like layers of wooden postage stamps. Above the southern benches is a south gallery - a very unusual feature - and benches that have a really lousy view. Think of the cheapest seats in an opera house. At least they don’t have a spotlight in front of you which is what happened to me once at Covent Garden (although Placido Domingo was singing so I didn’t really need to see). The gallery fills most of the south aisle.
There is a Lady Chapel at the end of the aisle but it is totally hemmed in. To the east of the south seating range is a large square box pew that belonged to the Shuttleworth family. The Church Guide tells us it is typical late seventeenth century Belgian. Beyond that is more lateral seating, backed by wooden wall panels with clearly royal insignia and the frequent repetition of the letters “AC”. These are believed to have come from the private chapel of the unfortunate Anne of Cleves, Cleves being part of modern Belgium.
Around the church are various hubristic monuments and beyond the east end is the Ongley mausoleum. This is an extraordinary church that many will love and a few will hate. Whatever else, it is itself a monument to the extent to which the great and the good could re-create the the interiors of churches, commemorating themselves and their families through cheesy monuments and stained glass, as well as indulging themselves in their - in this case dubious - taste in furnishing.
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