Trigger's Broom...
I should have picked up my walking stick from the boot of the car on my way from the Hepworth to the chapel, as by the time I’d crossed the old Chantry Bridge I was like an unprepared marathon runner in his 21st mile [Chariots of Fire - link to clip]. This was the first ever time I’d been right up to the chapel and I was now only avoiding crawling there because I was holding on to the bridge wall as I went, due to my very annoying dose of MS.
I should have picked up my walking stick from the boot of the car on my way from the Hepworth to the chapel, as by the time I’d crossed the old Chantry Bridge I was like an unprepared marathon runner in his 21st mile [Chariots of Fire - link to clip]. This was the first ever time I’d been right up to the chapel and I was now only avoiding crawling there because I was holding on to the bridge wall as I went, due to my very annoying dose of MS.
I’d made it, though, and could rest for a while whilst I took in the chapel. The western front is the one that backs on to the pavement and this is the most detailed one. Those medieval architects certainly liked a bit of intricately carved stonework. Unfortunately, from what I learnt before my visit, the chapel seems to have a bad case of ‘Trigger’s broom’. In case you don’t get that cultural reference, let me take you back to an old episode of Only Fools and Horses. Trigger is telling everyone about the award he’s just got for having the same broom for years. It’s only had 17 new heads and 14 new handles… It’s an old joke, but brilliantly told [Trigger's broom]. Anyway, not much of Chantry Chapel is original. Here’s the history bit in brief:
It was built in the 1340s, partly as a place of religious rest for newly arrived travellers, when the original wooden bridge was replaced by a stone one. It is now one of only three surviving bridge chapels in England, so unsurprisingly has a Grade 1 listing. But remember, it’s a broom with several new heads and handles. Only the foundations are original from what I understand. Though this is a bit disappointing, it’s still pretty exciting for a history buff like me to think that this restored building is sitting on stones put in place by some labourers in the 14th century, particularly as they were laid in the River Calder, which you have to say is an impressive achievement for the time.
By the Victorian age, however, serious remedial work had to be undertaken, as the original structure began to crumble. Unfortunately, the guy put in charge of it in the 1840s – George Gilbert Scott – ballsed it up somewhat. Firstly, he chose not to even bother trying to renovate the frontage, which was almost certainly the best bit. ‘Bollocks to that, that looks bloody difficult,’ were his actual reported words from the time, I believe. So the western front was sold to a rich local family and shipped off to their crib at Kettlethorpe Hall a couple of miles away to be a boathouse folly (more on this in a future post).
Scott’s other big blunder was having the new façade carved from Caen stone, so although it looked similar to the old façade for a bit, by the early 20th century, the faces of the saints looked like the Nazis at the end of Indiana Jones when they choose the wrong goblet as the Holy Grail, as Caen stone was completely unsuitable for withstanding the polluted atmosphere of a northern industrial conurbation. So the front had to be completely replaced again in 1939, this time with gritstone. The people of Wakefield could really have done without this distraction, as something else was going on in 1939 to which they really should have been giving their full attention.
Between being built and its many renovations, the chapel experienced many different uses. After a couple of centuries being a place of prayer, Henry VIII’s ‘restructuring’ of the Church in the mid-16th century led to it being used for more secular purposes for nearly three centuries. These included a cheesecake shop, newsroom and tailor’s premises. It was during this time that Turner and many other artists visited Wakefield to paint the chapel and Wakefield’s many other impressive buildings, as the town was one of the wealthiest around during this time and was thought to have some of the best architecture of the period. I wonder what they would have made of the Hepworth Gallery across the river.
By the 1840s, the chapel was back in the hands of the Church. It’s a shame then that this is when our man George Scott got involved, but never mind, it’s still standing and Wakefield is richer for that fact. As well as the intricate frontage, the north and south sides have some interesting faces (saints?) looking out over the river, though they look a little new, like they might have been fixed on the side a week last Tuesday.
I took a few photos and continued south along the old Chantry Bridge to which the chapel is joined. There’s a tow bridge at the end which was built around the same time, I think, and I wandered along the river through the trees in order to get a few more photos of the chapel. I later found a sketch online that Turner must have drawn from around this very spot, which, despite my lack of interest in art, makes me happy. What didn’t make me happy at the time was the realisation that I was now even further from the car and getting back without my stick was going to be an ordeal.
 |
| One of my photos of the south side |
 |
| Turner's sketch from over two centuries before |
Fortunately, the way back had plenty of wall to sit on and rest and railings to hold on to as I staggered to the car park. Crossing the main Chantry Bridge that was built in the 1930s was tricky, though, as my legs developed the strength of over-boiled spaghetti. Thank heavens this amount of traffic doesn’t race along the old Chantry Bridge, otherwise there probably wouldn’t be a chapel, as exhaust fumes ate into the stonework from close quarters.
The last 20 metres to the car are always the hardest. I often wonder what people make of me at this point as I stagger like someone who’s just downed 10 pints towards my motor vehicle. ‘Please god, don’t let him behind the wheel. He’s clearly in no fit state. He’s going to kill someone.’ As soon as I’ve slumped into my seat, though, I sober up and off I go [Drunk not in charge]. Occasionally, if I feel eyes have been upon me, I might sway left and right as I set off for my own amusement. Well, when you have a chronic condition of the central nervous system, you have to get your entertainment where you can.
The last 20 metres to the car are always the hardest. I often wonder what people make of me at this point as I stagger like someone who’s just downed 10 pints towards my motor vehicle. ‘Please god, don’t let him behind the wheel. He’s clearly in no fit state. He’s going to kill someone.’ As soon as I’ve slumped into my seat, though, I sober up and off I go [Drunk not in charge]. Occasionally, if I feel eyes have been upon me, I might sway left and right as I set off for my own amusement. Well, when you have a chronic condition of the central nervous system, you have to get your entertainment where you can.
Additional:
The
Earl of Rutland, Richard Duke of York’s son, is said to have been killed near
the chapel when fleeing the Battle of Wakefield in 1460 (see Post 1 on Sandal
Castle). Information is sketchy, but it seems that he was only 17 and fought on
the fields near the castle alongside his father.
A biography of the Earl that was released in 1870 (I bet that was a bestseller) states: ‘He was no sooner aware that the field was lost than he sought safety by flight’. In other words, at the first sign that things were going a bit badly, he uttered the battle cry, ‘Run Away!’ and tried to scarper. The Lancastrians set off in pursuit, however, and caught up with him on Wakefield (Chantry) Bridge.
At least he was re-united with his father. Unfortunately, only their heads were involved in this rendez-vous and they were on the spikey part of the gates at York.
IF YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE, TRY ONE OF THESE POSTS. SIMPLY CLICK ON THE NAME OF THE POST.
A biography of the Earl that was released in 1870 (I bet that was a bestseller) states: ‘He was no sooner aware that the field was lost than he sought safety by flight’. In other words, at the first sign that things were going a bit badly, he uttered the battle cry, ‘Run Away!’ and tried to scarper. The Lancastrians set off in pursuit, however, and caught up with him on Wakefield (Chantry) Bridge.
At least he was re-united with his father. Unfortunately, only their heads were involved in this rendez-vous and they were on the spikey part of the gates at York.
IF YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE, TRY ONE OF THESE POSTS. SIMPLY CLICK ON THE NAME OF THE POST.
No comments:
Post a Comment