Monkton Farleigh, Wiltshire

copyright Rhiannon 2017

Finally, a finished piece of work emerges from a sketch made long ago. This is a lino cut, hand cut and printed on the kitchen table. I'm pleased with it.

Wroughton, Wiltshire

Bromham, Wiltshire

Edington, Wiltshire

Little Langford, Wiltshire

It's not surprising if some of the carvings we visit come with their own folklore. The iconography is often a bit bemusing to the 21st century eye, and I guess it has been for a long while. A lot of the time the "official" explanations in the church aren't terribly convincing as fact. But if you take it as folklore you don't feel obliged to believe it. I've found some tales connected with the lavish carvings at Little Langford.

"There you are," said Pertwood. "One of the treasures of the Wylye valley! There are different opinions as to what the figure of the bishop represents. One version, based on the presence of his staff with its sprouting branch, is that he is St. Aldhelm, and that it was carved when St. Osmund was Bishop of Sarum. If that is correct, the carving was done some time between the years 1078 and 1099. It was St. Osmund who moved St. Aldhelm's remains to Malmesbury. 

Another theory is that he is St. Nicholas, patron saint of the Church, with the three balls repeated in pattern as his special emblem."

"It sounds more like the House of Lombard to me," chuckled Gullible.
Pertwood ignored the interruption.

"The three birds on the tree are given as representing three boys whom St. Nicholas restored to life," he went on, "or three souls saved from sin, with the tree representing the Tree of Life.

The oddest interpretation of all, however, is reputed to come from the local rustics. There is a local legend of a girl who went nutting in Grovely Woods. Out of one of the nuts came a large maggot, which she kept and fed until it became large indeed. Then, like an ungrateful dog, the maggot turned round and bit the hand that fed it, and the poor girl died. Your three balls of Lombardy are supposed to be the nuts, the birds and the tree are Grovely Woods, and the Bishop is the Maid."

"What a dreadful tale! How is it supposed to end?"

"Why you have the ending in the wild boar hunt. With fertile imagination, the locals turned the Maggot into a Wild Beast that ate up the Maid, then the villagers came out with their dogs and killed it!"

"Let's go in and have a look at the Church," laughed Gullible, "I can't stand any more of this."

 This is from The Warminster and Westbury Journal, 18th January 1952. I had no previous idea, but the House of Lombard is an allusion to pawnbrokers and their symbol of three golden spheres.

My interpretation of the tympanum at Little Langford

In the Devizes and Wiltshire Gazette from the 4th August 1864 (on the occasion of the entirely rebuilt church being reopened) I read:
"The old part of the church was built about the year 1130, the remains of that date being the old door-way and the font. Over the door-way would be seen a figure of St. Nicholas, holding a pastoral staff in his hand, and in the act of giving benediction. Beside this was a tree and three birds, representing, it was supposed, the grain of mustard seed, which was to spring up and become a tree, so that the birds would come and lodge in its branches. Underneath these figures was a boar hunt. Now, Grovely wood was once famous for boar hunting, and there was a field about a mile and a half from Langford which still retained the name as being the place where the last boar was killed in England. Behind St. Nicholas would be seen three stones, representing three urns of gold. [...]  Before going further, he might mention that the capitals of the old Norman door-way were pieces of very curious sculpture, which, he expected, referred to the promise of our Lord that the Christian should be able to tread on the adder and the serpent, and which they would find great interest in examining and trying to make out for themselves."

B and I certainly find great interest in examining and trying to make out the carvings for ourselves. But I'd take the rest with a little pinch of salt perhaps. To be honest, I almost don't want to know a definitive truth. Part of the carvings' attraction to me are their unknowableness and Numinosity.

In the name of cultural improvement I looked up this mustard seed business. It's in Matthew 13:31/32: "Another parable put he forth unto them, saying, The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field: which indeed is the least of all seeds: but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof." Well I don't like to quibble, but Jesus obviously wasn't much of a botanist, or he'd have known that a mustard seed doesn't grow into a tree. It grows into that stuff you put in egg sandwiches.

Cholderton, Wiltshire

After the disappointment at Tidworth, we couldn't finish on a bum note. So we took in one more, at Cholderton. The church is on a rise at the top of a short, narrow lane.

The modern font was pretty dull, but our quarry was on display near the door. It's been a bit thwacked about so I suppose it's considered too rough for dipping infants into. I don't know. Sadly it was so close to the wall we couldn't see all its trumpety scallops. Because they were all pleasingly different as far as we could crane about.

Somebody had painted the most superb list of the church's vicars, but it seemed curiously pagan / fortean, with its devils and dragons and snakes and suchlike. But I liked it with its bright contrasty lapis lazuli style blue, gold and red.

I noticed here that it sounds like until recently the font was outside in the churchyard! Probably put there when they rebuilt the whole church in the 19th century (such a familiar story). So a massive thanks to whoever brought it inside and gave it a sturdy new base. Something c800 years old deserves a bit of respect does it not.

Tidworth (North Tidworth), Wiltshire

We tried Tidworth next. Apparently there's a North and a South Tidworth church, I've only just found that out. And although our (Northerly) Tidworth church looked really cute, it was locked up tight with a big padlock. You can imagine the church in its original rural location - like this - but today it had badly designed modern houses and warehouses right up to it, it felt odd. So I wasn't that surprised it was shut. But I was disappointed. I reckon it's probably shut all the time because I can't find any photos at all of the interior on the internet, other than ones taken by churchgoers in churchgoing time. I found a photo of the font here on the church's website. It's rather nice, one scallop each side.

Ludgershall, Wiltshire

The friendly rector very kindly showed us round Ludgershall church. It's got the most impressive Tudor monument. Pevsner likes it very much. I was suitably awed by the amount of detail and the crazy creatures on it. Sir Brydges and his wife were both resting their feet on little animals. I will include them because they definitely look back to the era of our favourite Norman Knight in Castle Combe. They're not a patch on him, mind :) His and hers:

There was also a super 'green man' in the centre of the church (just outside the Brydges chapel), and some other grotesque faces. We've seen a 'green cat' which must be Norman amongst all the amazing sculpture at Quenington , so maybe this could be Norman too? It's pretty chunky and basic.

But what had originally drawn us here was the promise of something Saxon. The rector proudly drew it to our attention. But it didn't look like anything to us: it looked like someone being Very Hopeful.

Here it is at four different angles. But actually it doesn't have to have been at any of those angles originally.  There's a faintly feathery look about it. But I really can't see anything obviously Saxon, or at least nothing that looks like the knotwork, plant scrolls, or animals from the things we've seen locally. Also it's very thin through isn't it. Why is it so thin?

There's the classic framed Explanation next to it. It says "The Carved centre stone was recently discovered at the East end of the Church, it having apparently been used by the builders for filling in at a previous restoration. As it is thought to be old [?] from an earlier Church, possibly part of a Saxon sculptured Crucifixion, it has been placed here for preservation. E S[?] Builder and Alfred W [?], Rector."  You can indeed imagine the bottom left orientation being a person holding out their arm. But then what would be that lump on the left? I'm not convinced.

Actually one of the coolest things at Ludgershall was this amazing (and surely extremely old) ladder up into the belfry. A beautifully patina-ed, naturally wonky, hand made thing, made precisely for this particular space. It was great.

Everleigh, Wiltshire

This one's looked after by the Churches Conservation Trust. It's massive and 19th century Gothic, and has the most crass and enormous monument bigging someone up that I think we've ever seen. I almost wish I'd taken a picture of it, because it was that outrageous and I can't see a photo on the internet. Tch.

But anyway. We'd come to see the font. Which was much nicer.

It reminded me of the one at Etchilhampton. Which is only about 14 miles away, so not far.

We've been to so many now, and I can't remember the names, so I have to try to communicate them to B by association with other things. Etchilhampton had lots of mining bees in the verge. Oh well. If the carvers worked all over the place, perhaps they had the same problem.

My drawing looks a bit odd and flat. The font was grafted onto a new, very symmetrical base. Which of course is a good thing. But it makes the contrast between organic top and sterile base a bit jarring. This is not an excuse for poor drawing unfortunately, but that's what the sketch reminds me of.

Manningford Bruce, Wiltshire

Next followed one of those wild goose chases which the searcher of things in the landscape will be familiar with. There were a number of churches marked on the map strewn liberally around a muddle of Manningfords (Manningford Bruce, Manningford Abbots, Manningford Bohune). Naturally, and actually fairly inexplicably now I look at the map again, I chose the wrong one. But I suppose we got a walk out of it along a mossy path in the rain, which we wouldn't otherwise have had. So I suppose it's not so bad.

Mr Pevsner had said MB was going to be a very complete Norman church. Which it was from the outside, with its small frugal look and surprising semicircular apse. But inside it was far too neat and restored and kind of disappointing (to me at least, I'm sure lots of people would love it). It didn't even have a contemporary font. But it did have the most amazing door.

It'd be nice to think it was original, it looked ridiculously old. We saw a W cut into it. W for Weird Wiltshire I suspect. I've seen W-ish marks on stone before and I always thought that was about masons. But this was on wood. So a bit more mysterious to me at least.  I expect the wood's like stone now anyway.

I have now found out something about this mark. I bought a copy of Matthew Champion's 'Medieval Church Graffiti'  which I can confirm is excellent and interesting. Not that it can give me any definitive answers! But as you can see here on the Suffolk Medieval Graffiti Survey  
pages, it's been thought that the W isn't a W at all, but two Vs for 'Virgo Virginum'. Who knows. But its apotropaic-ness is suggested by our example's prominent position on the front door.

Rushall, Wiltshire

We eschewed the idea of exciting as-yet-unseen tympanums and beakheads this trip. I can't quite tell if it's because I didn't want a long drive (sounds legitimate) or whether I / we are getting completist and want to see every last damn Norman font in Wiltshire. That sounds a bit perfectionist and obsessive though. Perhaps it's come to that. The 'obsessive journeying' bit has turned out to be true. I don't think I care.

First stop was Rushall, down a bucolic lane with sheep grazing quietly in the fields. The church is apparently some distance from the rest of the village. The door was welcomingly open and all was airy and with a pleasant atmosphere.

Drawing this, I actually managed to shut the inner voice up for a while. But I find I still don't pay enough attention to the overall shape, the way the size of the parts relate to each other. So I made the stem too long, but photoshop has dealt with this well enough. The octagonalness made me feel a bit suspicious, it doesn't seem to be much of a thing in most of Wiltshire. But here isn't far from Upavon and its fancy 8-sided font. So I'll go along with it though it feels like a 'late' feature. I liked the feathery fingery base and its strangely ruff-like top. The Blurb in the church suggested it was an upside-down Norman column and that's rather believable. In fact here it is turned the other way up:

So you're getting two amounts of Norman sculpture for one, which was especially good in a church that was otherwise far too modern and bland for our specialist tastes to hold anything else as ancient and interesting. And what's more, this font rates highly on the 'inoffensive font cover' scale, it was very unobtrusive. The font gets pride of place in the centre of the tower base. It was peaceful here and I wish we'd driven down a little bit further to the bridge over the River Avon - it looks lovely on Google's streetview.

Fifield Bavant, Wiltshire

Fifield Bavant is a little place with a little church. You read in various places how it's one of the smallest churches, but it's not absurdly small. In fact it looks smaller on the outside as you approach it (or at least that's how it is in my mind). It's just one room: more of a chapel I suppose if you're being argumentative. It's got this superb south Wiltshire checkered knapped flint thing going on with the outside walls. And it's raised up on bit of a bump. You have to walk through a farmyard to get to it, which makes it feel a decidedly ancient trek. The farm looks very old too, with huge old barns.

My 1968 Shell Guide to Wiltshire says indignantly, "Recent electric lighting has caused an unpleasant outbreak of meters and switches at the back of the nave, and four white lampshades are nearly as big as the church itself." But the meters and switches didn't register with me, and I can only remember the rickety dresser holding religious pamphlets and locally found bits of ancient pottery. Thankfully the lampshades seem to be long gone. Our attention was firmly grabbed by the lovely scallopy Norman font.

The scallops are beautifully wavy and were a joy to draw. And they're not evenly carved (of course), which was really noticeable once you started looking properly. And under the waviness were trumpets, though these were largely hidden unless you crouched down to look - they weren't an obvious part of the design. I rather liked that.

The lid of the font wasn't too foul though it was very chunky and dark. At least it sort of fitted the font's proportions. I could always do without the lids, but so many places seem to have them, there must have been a general feeling that they were necessary.

We had to negotiate horses, horse blankets and dogs to get across the yard. But the local human inhabitants were obviously happy for us to be there and you should not feel put off.

Great Wishford, Wiltshire

The Church Person who was busying themselves in the building while we were there was my kind of welcoming, in that he showed polite and non-bemused interest, and then let us get on with our drawings as though it was the most reasonable thing in the world. Considering the decided magnificence of the font at Great Wishford, it's no wonder people might like to come and draw it. It's got miniature column motifs (every one slightly different, how marvellous) and much zigzaggy lozengey loveliness in between. I did get the proportions slightly wrong (a repeated problem) but maybe that's not so important as the experience. We sat on chairs in the open doorway and proper drawing concentration commenced. I'm starting to realise that I'm at an age where taking some sort of folding chair is going to be necessary for relaxed concentration. The crouching in the cold at Stockton just wasn't condusive to Art. Oh well.

Steeple Langford (return), Wiltshire

Stockton, Wiltshire

For those that like Norman capitals to their columns (and who doesn't - I mean, who wouldn't, surely) - Stockton turned out to have a huge range. More than you'd expect to find anywhere really. But it was cold in here and hard to draw, and I took photos.

Many degrees of trumpety scallopy 3d-ishness, from the merely incised to the super trumpety. And with a smattering of chevrons and beading also thrown in. Aren't they super. How I love the improvisation on a theme; they're all different but obviously all part of a set.

There was also a Norman font which was sitting in something like a modern wet-room bathroom - elaborately tiled with mosaic by Italian craftsmen, quite strange really. But perhaps apt for a water-related thing like a font. The fish below has an excellently long-suffering expression.

Stockton's font is very scallopy. It was difficult to draw it in the cold, crouching on the tiles. Deeply three dimensional trumpetyness is difficult to convey at the best of times.

Outside we bumped into a local who pointed out what was said to be the original base of the font; this was nestling in the vegetation in a garden near the gate. My photos came out black. But it's worth a quick look if you're there.

Chirton, Wiltshire

B and I went to the Grayson Perry tapestry exhibition at the Victoria Art Gallery in Bath today. It was Amazing. This is not particularly the place to get carried away about it. But suffice to say we were thoroughly rejuvenated by his work. Such amazing colours and detail, and reflecting truths about modern society while being firmly rooted in art from previous eras. So much to think about.

The creative urge rubbed off and we went home to get on with something. What could we go and draw? (the family selling a car at the petrol station? another bit of Norman sculpture? NO. We ought to actually finish something and make a bit of art from one of our many many sketches.)

B is writing an article about Chirton for a local magazine, but it needs photos or illustrations. I made up my mind. I took my sketch here (which doesn't look much like that in the flesh) and the above is the result. It's cut mountboard (a long standing favourite technique of mine... maybe I even invented it :)... dark green really because that's the colour I had... and size A1.

I am very chuffed with it. I am currently in that glorious state of mind where I am very pleased with it and am enjoying looking at it. I know from previous experience that this will wear off and the anxiety and dissatisfaction with one's efforts will return :) but that is the curse of the creator of bits of art. In the meantime I'm going to enjoy it, and use my new-found positive energy to get on with some Moss-Dissertation-Related very necessary work tomorrow.

Hurrah for inspiration and getting on with something. And down with wasting time fiddling on the internet (oh the irony). More must be done. And to think this morning I was feeling particularly Januaryish and unable to see anything to look forward to.

You can see a photo of the font here, in fact the figure on the right could be the very figure (St Peter with his key to heaven) that I originally drew. It makes me realise that it's been quite a transformation! but I feel like I've remained true to the original carver's intentions in some way.

Patney, Wiltshire

Mr Pevsner must have been in a tremendous rush at least a lot of the time - or how would he ever have written all those books. Sometimes he's very laconic in his font descriptions, and sometimes he doesn't mention them at all. So I'm always on the lookout for alternative sources of Leads.

I was reading 'Some Wiltshire Fonts' by A G Randle Buck (surely a man after B and my hearts) and he mentioned the one at Patney, just near Devizes. "Similar to the one at Stockton, and over the junction of the scallops is a curl ornament." - he also mentions similarities to the one I've seen at Yatesbury. So it sounds lovely, how could one refuse.

We parked nearby and set off up armed with the usual materials and clutching Pevsner (I like to think it makes us look more legit).

CC image by Nigel Cox.

I noticed nothing at the gate, but as we walked through the graveyard I started vaguely thinking 'well how nice, someone's gone to the trouble of looking after lots of little plants in plant pots'. Like B it was only when the shape of a lampstand in one of the transparent windows made its way slowly into my brain, that I computed the evidence - someone had bought the church and turned it into a house. We hot-footed it away.

In retrospect I suppose we could have experimentally banged on the door - I doubt they get a lot of visitors wanting to draw the font. I do hope they've still got it and are looking after it. I can't find a photo of it.

I kept thinking afterwards was that it would be a right pain to mow round all the gravestones. To be fair the churchyard was extremely well-kept :)

Etchilhampton, Wiltshire

We'd come to visit the Norman font. There's a drawing on this page of the WANHM journal but it doesn't really do the scallopyness around the bottom justice - it's a bit more complicated than that. I can appreciate it was difficult to draw though because mine isn't right either. There's a kind of double thing that should be going on. You can see much better on the photo on B's blog.

 
It's definitely been given a new round base since that drawing in the journal. The 'top base' (if that makes any sense at all) is definitely wonky, which of course I appreciate. There was also a little cross scratched in, and I think the round mark I've drawn was an indication of where the lock used to be. I'm starting to realise that the hacked-aboutness of a missing lock does at least affirm the great age of the font.

On another note, if there's something that really winds up my O.H., it's place names that aren't pronounced the way you'd expect. According to another ancient volume of the WANHM, Etchilhampton is 'Ashelton'. That was 1867 though and perhaps things are different now, who knows. There was a man mowing his lawn and I was going to ask him about the clouds of mining bees that were inhabiting the verge next to where we parked. But he didn't look like he wanted to talk to Strangers. I don't even think we look that dodgy.

Devizes, Wiltshire

Toothy creature on the corbel table. CC photo by Brian Robert Marshall.

I was looking forward to the wealth of Romanesque amazingness at St John's in the middle of Devizes. We've been here before but I hadn't indoctrinated B properly at that point, so as we walked up to the church she denied any recollection of the sculptural goodness inside. I was looking forward to showing her, and being able to draw something a bit more satisfying than the Fake Font at Bratton.

But, as I rattled every damn doorhandle into the building, it became obvious that we weren't going to get in.

It was a replay of our trip to Amesbury. And I just want to ask WHY??

It's harvest festival this weekend. And I know I'm an atheist. And I just want to admire the carvings and put a bit of cash in the collecting box. But what about religious people? Or even casually non-committal, come to church every now and again types? What if they want to come in for a quick pray? A bit of god-based solace? Just a sit down?!

Why are we being locked out of a church in the middle of a town on a busy Saturday lunchtime?! When little churches in the middle of nowhere can be unlocked for visitors, why can't a massive church like St John's?

It completely bemuses me and it annoyed me at the time. B thought it was annoying me completely out of proportion to what was necessary. But then she didn't know what she was missing. Well B what do you think of this? And there's more curious creatures on the corbels (hence my irritation at forgetting the binoculars). Some people have looked at them very closely, as detailed in this WANHS article. 

Don't worry, I'm over it now.

Bratton, Wiltshire

Photo by Rog Frost

Bratton church was in a strange sort of place. If you want to get to it you can either follow a long road from the other end of the village, or take a path which involves going down and then up these amazing steps. I was very taken with the steps. I don't understand why there aren't lots of photos of them on the internet. They have an ancient mossy air. I hope B took a photo I can borrow, because they don't look like anything much on that link. But in reality they were really something special.

I have to research and write a dissertation over the next year, and I've kind of decided it should be on the mosses that grow at springs in Wiltshire. It's a bit of a vague concept at present. And today was my first practical step into the idea. So where the steps at Bratton church stop going down and start going up again, there's a little stream, and donning some wellingtons I paddled my way towards its source. The site is called 'Church Springs' unsurprisingly. I collected some mosses but it made me realise my little idea isn't going to be as straightforward as I'd hoped.

But moving on from the bryology, what better spot could one have for church sculpture visit? Sadly, the church wasn't exactly replete with Romanesque interest. Someone had written that the carved heads on the outside of the porch were Saxon. Yeah right I Doubt It (scroll down), and I don't think we've ever seen such a Saxon thing as a carved head, it's usually knotwork. Wishful thinking eh. This might be tied up with the wishful thought that the church is there because of the springs, a continuation of pagan respect for them. But probably it's there rather because the village was there, and that was there because of the springs. Because you have to have water don't you. Respect can come from that of course, and the Church Springs are said to be unfailing (that's the kind of spring you want).

The font inside was evidently Norman style, but it was so neat and even that it didn't look old, and Pevsner called it 'recut'. It's a nice design (there's a picture here) but it didn't have that wonky vibe that the Romanesque Carving Fan craves.