Nettleden

Despite the extraordinarily harsh rendering, very nearly pebble dashed, of the tower and north wall I really liked St Lawrence and was looking forward to seeing inside but it is, for no apparent reason, lnk. Admittedly Pevsner is abrupt but I had a feeling the interior held some interest - oh well.

ST LAURENCE. A brick church of 1811 except for the low embattled W tower which is of flint and dates from the C15. Nave as well as chancel are embattled. The window tracery was originally no doubt simpler than it is now. - BRASS to John Cotton d. 1545; the figure c. 4 ft long. - MONUMENT. Epitaph to Edmund Bressy d. 1612 with wife and children, the usual kneeling figures.

Nettleden. The grand avenue of beeches shading the road from Little Gaddesden opens on this sweet place, where two old buildings look at each other breathing a common friendliness, one the church, the other a 17th-century house. We found the timbered house in a setting of flowers so brilliant that even motorists slowed down to look. The church is long and low and narrow, with battlemented walls and a 15th-century tower left standing when the rest was rebuilt in 1811. Here, as we open the church door, is a feast of colour to match the garden. The aisle-less nave has patterned walls with painted panels, and the chancel and the ceiling are completely covered with a rich design. Two Elizabethans, Edmund Bressey and his wife, kneel in stone wearing the stiff ruffs of 1600, their only daughter kneeling below with four brothers. Before the altar lies another who lived in a colourful age, Sir John Cotton, Vice-Chamberlain to Edward VI; he is pictured on a big brass wearing his armour and with his shields about him. In the sanctuary is a carved 17th-century chair. On the pulpit is carved a verse found among the papers of one who preached here not so very long ago and now lies under the giant yew. It is not difficult to guess his trouble from these brave lines:

Beneath the shelter of this yew tree’s shade
A little harmless rhyming priest is laid.
He loved his life, though not of death afraid,
And loved his Maker, though so strangely made.

Flickr.