Category Archives: Grotesques and misericords

St Winefride’s striking fan-vaulted pilgrim shrine at Holywell, c.1480

Introduction

15th century fan vaulting in St Winefride's well

15th century fan vaulting in the under chapel at St Winefride’s well. late 15th – early 16th century

On Friday I took advantage of a sunny cold day to revisit St Winefride’s Well and its late Medieval chapels.  During the Middle Ages it was a major draw for pilgrims to north Wales,  with its shrine, beautiful bubbling spring and the Basingwerk Abbey a few minutes away.  St Winefride’s (Welsh Gwenfrewi) shrine and the Holywell (Treffynnon) parish church were granted in 1093 to St Werburgh’s Abbey in Chester for them to manage and from which to derive an income.  It was later consigned to Basingwerk Abbey.

Nothing is known about what sort of buildings preceded the late medieval building that we see today, but there are details about Saint Winefride, a list of some of the well’s most notable earlier medieval visitors and details about the measures that were taken to promote the interests of the shrine throughout its history following the Norman Conquest.  The role of the abbey in the success of the well can also be seen.

View of the chapel from the south. The chapel is over two floor. The fan-vaulted ground floor has three bays, with the central one containing the well itself. The upper chapel is fully enclosed and its entrance is on the same level as the entrance of the parish church.

An abbey with a pilgrim shrine had a range of opportunities for income generation, and St Winifred’s was famous for its powers of healing and provision of miraculous cures for centuries.  In around 1480 a wealthy patron, possibly Henry VII’s mother Lady Margaret Beaufort, invested in the shrine, providing the miraculous spring with a gorgeous, lofty fan-vaulted open-fronted chapel, as well as an enclosed chapel overhead.  Today both parts of the chapel are very well cared for, located on the edge of the Green Valley Park, which has a superb industrial heritage trail wending through it (see my earlier post here).  There is plenty of parking at both the well and at the abbey, described at the end of this post.

Fan vaulting with roof bosses. From left to right, the rebus of Elizabeth Hopton, two monkeys, a fleur de lys.

Fan vaulting with roof bosses in the lower chapel. From left to right, the rebus of Elizabeth Hopton (showing a rebus of her name, with a hop plant emerging from a barrel or tun); two monkeys, which may have a number of interpretations; and a fleur de lys (representing chastity, often used for the Virgin Mary but also suitable for St Winefride).

There’s a real sense of this being a costly but personal project, particularly in the vaulted lower chapel, which in terms of elaborate ecclesiastical architecture is tiny, although its height gives a sense of heading heavenwards.  Although no documentation survives to say who was responsible for funding the building, the Stanley family’s crests and symbols give an impression of a cherished project and the sheer amount of other imagery are reminiscent of cathedrals and large churches of the period.  It manages to be both impressive and intimate, which is quite a trick.  The chapel upstairs is more conventional in terms of both its size and its layout.  What I missed on my first visit is that the wooden ceiling supports all have sculptural elements sitting on their corbels, as well as more easily visible stone ones lower down.  In both upper and lower chapels, as well as the inherent beauty of the architecture, there is humour as well as religious, pagan, family and royal themes in the imagery.
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St Winefride's well, c.1480

St Winefride’s well, in the star-shaped basin late 15th – early 16th century

St Winefride and St Beuno

There are a number of versions of the story of the miracle of St Winefride or Welsh Gwenfrewi (also spelled Winefred and Winifred), and her uncle and tutor St Beuno.  The earliest that remain preserved date to the 12th century, and excerpts have been translated and published by T.W. Pritchard in his detailed 2009 book about the well.

Modern stained glass in the little prayer chapel next to the main chapels

Winefrede and Beuno in the modern stained glass in the little prayer chapel for worshippers today, next to the main chapels. The palm represents the spiritual victory of martyrdom, whilst the crozier (staff) symbolizes teaching, wisdom and guidance.

Winefride was born towards the beginning of the 7th century in the cantref of Tegeingl, in northeast Wales, the only child of Tyfid and his wife Gwenlo, or Wenlo, who were landholders in the area.  One of the 12th century accounts says that Tyfid’s estate was made up of four manors.

Winefride had decided to renounce marriage and to dedicate herself to God and the teachings of Christ.  Christianity was well established throughout Britain, partly due to missionaries who were often commemorated as saints for their work.  One of these was St Beuno, who had moved to the area from mid Wales and was engaged by Tyfid to teach Winefride, in return for land on which to build a church.  St Beuo built a church in a valley called Sychnant (dry valley), which is now Greenfield Valley, Holywell, where the well is located.

Sculpted figure

Sculpted figure, possibly St Beuno

One day, Winefride was at home alone whilst her parents were attending mass at the church, and a local prince, Caradog, knocked on the door.  She suggested he return later, but he became determined to marry the girl (who was of course beautiful).  Pretending to go and get changed, she ran to the church.  Caradog, realizing that he had been deceived, set out in pursuit and when he caught up with her near the door to the church, decapitated her in a fit of rage.  Beuno, hearing the noise, rushed out of the church and, finding a terrible scene, began to pray for help.  His prayers were answered.   Caradog melted into the ground, never to be seen again, and Beuno picked up her head and placed it back on her neck.  She came back to life, with only a slender white scar showing where the injury had been.  Instantly a spring erupted at the spot where her blood had been spilled.  The stones in the spring were said to be permanently red, the moss that grew around it had an aroma of incense and the waters produced miraculous cures.  The story continues, but the abbreviated version is that Winefride became a nun, moving from Holywell to Gwytherin to oversee 11 nuns as abbess, where she died and was buried.

Statue of St Winefride within the lower chapel, dating to 1886

Statue of St Winefride within the lower chapel. The niche with its elaborate and intricate canopy is original, but the medieval statue was lost, and this dates to 1886

The basics of the story, a pure and noble virgin who died rather than surrender her virtue, is a familiar one.  The spring, too, erupting where pure blood was spilled, is not unique. When St Paul the Apostle was executed by decapitation his head is said to have bounced three times, and at each place where it touched the ground a spring erupted. The linkage of springs, wells and purity are long established, and the added connection with baptism gave water particular potency in Christian thought.  Interestingly, Winefride combined the virtues of a martyr saint and a confessor saint, having first died for her beliefs and then having been resurrected to live for those beliefs and values.

Miraculous events and morality tales of this sort became a form of oral history, a mechanism by which the ideology, morality, values and essential beliefs of early Christianity, were spread and understood.  The partly fictional “lives” of saints purporting to be biographies (hagiographies) were particularly popular when distributed after the innovation of printing in England in the 1470s. St Winefride’s story, written down and transmitted via word of mouth, the monasteries, and later by the printing press, became a popular saint  and her miraculous healing well became a pilgrim destination.

The remains of the shrine to St Winefrede in Shrewsbury Abbey

The remains of the later 14th century shrine to St Winefride, Shrewsbury Abbey showing St John the Baptist at left, St Beuno at right and Winefride in the middle.

In the 1130s an account by one of the monks of Shrewsbury Abbey states that the monks had “lamented that they were very deficient in relics of saints and applied their minds to the problem of obtaining some.”  One of the monks, during a spate of sickness, had a dream that St Winefride had appeared to him and said that the monk would be cured if a mission were to be sent to Holywell to say mass at her well.  Convinced that Winefride was their patron, they decided to retrieve her bones and take them to Shrewsbury.  In 1138, over 300 years after St Winefride’s death, a contingent of monks duly went to Gwytherin. They dug up and translated (transferred) Winefride’s remains from her grave and took them back to Shrewsbury, where a shrine had been built to receive her. Legend states that during the journey a spring appeared at Woolston near Oswestry, where her bier was briefly placed on the ground during the journey (a photo of this is shown further below).  A new shrine was built to house her relics at Shrewsbury Abbey in the late 14th century, a fragment of which survives and is shown above. It was destroyed during one of the attacks on the monastery.
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The Shrewsbury Abbey church

The Shrewsbury Abbey church (the rest of the abbey was demolished, now replaced by a road and a car park)

The Spring that feeds St Winefride’s Well

St Winefride’s well is built over the point at which an ancient spring, an underground stream, erupted to the surface, producing a quite dramatic spectacle of fiercely rushing water, particularly after rainfall.  That was not the same spring that is seen today.

St Winefride's well

St Winefride’s well

In 1917 mining activities at Halkyn cut through the stream, causing a change in flow direction so that the stream now emerges at Bagillt on the edge of the Dee estuary, causing both dramatic change to the industries along the valley and to the well itself, which dried up.  The current spring water that enters the star-shaped basin beneath the vaulted roof now bubbles delightfully, but this comes from another spring that was diverted for the purpose, and has none of the vigour or volume of the original spring.
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The History of the Well

Hugh Lupus and the Abbey of St Werburgh

Romanesque elements surviving from the first Abbey of St Werburgh

Romanesque elements surviving from the first Abbey of St Werburgh

Today Chester Cathedral is a largely Gothic vision, with pointed arches and vaulting with roof bosses, but when it was built as St Werburgh’s Benedictine Abbey in around 1093 it must have been a superb example of the Romanesque curves and rounded arches brought to England by the Normans.  The abbey’s founder was Hugh d’Avranches (better known as Hugh Lupus, c.1047-1101), Earl of Chester, who had been appointed to Chester by William the Conqueror.

Holywell, including St Winefride’s Well and the parish church, were part of Hugh’s new territory. Earl Hugh gave Holywell to his wife, Adeliza, and she in turn awarded it to the abbots of St Werburgh’s Abbey.  A religious attraction like Holywell, with its miracle-producing shrine and its attached church cold produce a good income for an abbey, which took control of the tithes (a sort of religious tax) owed to the church, and to the oblations (gifts from pilgrims and visitors) to the holy shrine.

Transfer of ownership:  Basingwerk Abbey and subsequent transfers

The building that may have been part of the guest quarters at Basingwerk Abbey. Its burned timbers were dendro-dated, giving the roof a date of c.1385

Because it was located in a region that was a territorial bone of contention between the Welsh princes and the English kings during the 13th century, Holywell could be in either English or Welsh territory.  When Basingwerk Abbey was founded in 1131 by Ranulf II Gernon, Earl of Chester, it must have been a source of some discontent to the new abbot that such a rich potential source of income was sitting on the doorstep and benefiting a rival monastic order in Chester.

Fortune smiled on Basingwerk Abbey.  Holywell was granted to it in the 12th century.  It was briefly back in the hands of St Werburgh but in 1196 it was once again assigned to the monks at Basingwerk by the Welsh prince of Gwynedd, Llywelyn the Great (ap Iorwerth, c.1173-1240), who had pushed his frontiers east.  This gift was confirmed in 1240 by Llywelyn’s grandson Dafydd ap Gruffudd (and younger brother of Llywellyn ap Gruffudd known as Llywelyn the Last), who in a turncoat deal with Edward I had been given lands in northeast Wales following the Treaty of Aberconwy. Basingwerk then retained Holywell and its religious assets for nearly 300 years until Henry VIII suppressed the monasteries in the 1530s.  Although they suffered under Edward I’s final conquest of Wales, Baswingwerk and Holywell survived, which is more than either Llywelyn or Dafydd managed to achieve, being killed in 1282 and 1283 respectively.

St Winefrede Well at Woolston

St Winefride Well at Woolston. Source: Shrewsbury Orthodox Church

It is not known what the Holywell pilgrim shrine looked like throughout the changes of ownership between the two abbeys, as no descriptions or images survive.  The shrine and temple would have been built of wood in its earliest years.  In one of its doubtless numerous iterations it is quite likely to have looked something like the small pilgrim shrine at Woolston near Oswestry, shown on the left, also dedicated to St Winefride.  Wooden buildings were replaced by stone buildings when those buildings began to be well used. The first stone parish church at Holywell is thought to date to around the 14th century, and it is possible that the shrine was revamped at the same time.

Promoting the interests of the Holywell shrine

Statue of St Winefrede in a niche in the Henry VII Chapel, Westminster Abbey

Statue of St Winefride in a niche in Henry VII’s early 16th century Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey. Source: Pritchard 2009, p.71

The task of ensuring the continuing success of St Winefride and the holy well, important both for monastic income and the economy of the Holywell, was occasionally given an official helping hand.

In 1253, for example, a request was made to the Cistercian General Chapter (the governing body of the Cistercian monastic order) to allow a “Feast of 12 Lessons” to be held annually on the saint’s Feast Day at Buildwas Abbey in Shropshire, and Basingwerk Abbeys, the two of which had become connected in a hierarchical relationship some time after Basingwerk was absorbed into the Cistercian order.  The normal feast was of 9 lessons (prayers and readings), and the fact that this was of 12 indicates the respect in which Winefride was held.  The request was authorized, meaning that St Winefride’s Feast was more likely to attract pilgrims to both of the abbeys as well as the Holywell shrine.

In 1398 the annual feast of St Winefride, which had been confined to north Wales and the Marches, was extended to the entire Canterbury area  by Archbishop Roger Walden.  In 1415 his successor Henry Chichele who had a particular interest in Welsh saints having been Bishop of St David’s, a centre for pilgrimage in south Wales, raised the profile of St Winefride’s cult still further.

Richard II established a chantry (payment to a member of the clergy in return for prayers and the saying of mass for the dead of a particular family) in 1377.  This was renewed annually by each subsequent king until the Dissolution, after which chantries and the mass were no longer legal.

An example of an Indulgence, this one issued in London. Source and details: Essex Records Office.

An example of an Indulgence, this one dated 1480 and issued in London. Source and details: Essex Records Office.

In 1427 the shrine’s popularity was assured when Pope Martin V granted indulgences over a ten year period for those who made the pilgrimage to the shrine and gave oblations to the chapel.  Indulgences were mechanisms for rewarding certain activities, mainly those that generated income for the Church, including pilgrimages, by reducing the time an individual spent in purgatory by a specific number of years and days.  In this case the time reduced was a year and forty days.  It was a way of trading off human fear of what followed death, but a ruthless way of raising funds, later famously condemned by Christian revisionist Martin Luther in his Ninety Five Theses.

The role of the well in the Middle Ages

North entrance to the under-chapel at St Winefrede's Well.

North entrance to the under-chapel at St Winefrede’s Well.  The barriers detract from the aesthetics but do prevent people falling in.

The well can be understood in a number of ways, all from different viewpoints.

From the point of view of Basingwerk Abbey, which had authority over the well and its shrine, it was both a source of prestige and income.  The prestige of having the miracle directly connected with an Anglo-Saxon saint was considerable, giving it a historical validity with real time-depth, with roots in the distant past.  Not only was Winefride a miracle-working virgin saint, but she had gone on to become a nun, and then an abbess.  Her credit and sanctity were flawless.  This status and prestige attracted pilgrims, and with them a source of potentially considerable income. The  importance of miraculous places of pilgrimage grew in the medieval period, and pilgrims not only brought donations (alms) but those with money also contributed to the local economy, meaning that the abbey was a contributor to that economy.  However, pilgrims could be a double-edged sword, as they also required some management to prevent them becoming a drain on the abbey’s obligation to provide shelter and food under the general heading of “hospitality,” to which the Cistercian order was committed and which included some form of accommodation and the supply of meals.

Rebus of Elizabeth Hopton's last name (a hop plant emerging from a tun, a type of Barrel

Rebus of Elizabeth Hopton’s last name (a hop plant emerging from a tun, a type of Barrel

From the point of view of pilgrims, miraculous venues offered a range of opportunities, depending on the motives for visiting.  The natural spring was said to have miraculous healing properties, and many will have travelled to be cured, whether rich or poor.  Others were engaged in a form of spiritual tourism, visiting all the most important shrines and relics either in a given area, throughout Britain and sometimes overseas.  Within the Welsh and border areas, Holywell was part of a pilgrim circuit with Basingwerk (with the Holywell shrine), St Asaph (Llanelwy, the church of the 6th century miracle-performing saint), Chester (with the Holy Rood of St John’s and St Werburgh’s shrine in the Abbey), together with other churches and monuments, and this could also be extended to reach the sacred Bardsey Island.

Archway leading to the steps into the well

Archway leading to the steps into the well

The medieval world was very concerned with the challenge of how to manage an afterlife that began with the terrors of Judgement Day and Purgatory.  Visiting saints’ shrines, or just being in close proximity to them, was a way of gaining proximity, at a little distance, to the divine, with the hope that some of it might, in some mystical way, rub off.  Just by touching a shrine, a little of the incredible divine energy could pass into a person; immersion in the spring that emerged from the spilling of a virgin saint’s blood must have seemed like being wrapped in the saint’s divinity.  This did no harm to nearby residents, who must have had a sense of the power of the shrine.

Likewise, monasteries that were filled to the brim with those devoted to Christian worship, whose virtue made them next in godliness to saints, were considered to be invaluable assets to those who lived in their vicinity.  The wealthy chose to be buried within monastic precincts, as close as possible to the most sacred areas.  In churches people wanted to be at the interior east end of churches or, if they were not sufficiently influential to be buried inside, as close outside to the east end as possible. The presence of the abbey so close to the shrine gave Holywell a particular religious vigour.

As well as religious benefits to outsiders, there were economic benefits to the local population.  Basingwerk Abbey had various agricultural (mainly livestock) and industrial (including silver mining) interests in the immediate area that would have employed many rural people, but as the medieval period shook off the manorial control that bound people to the land, the Holywell shrine offered potential for new opportunities, including hospitality and, if other pilgrim centres are anything to go by, the manufacture and sale of souvenirs.

Visitors and patrons in the Middle Ages

Pilgrim being carried to the healing waters of the spring

Pilgrim being carried to the healing waters of the spring. The 15th-early 16th century well shrine.

In the Middle Ages there was no clear dividing line between physical and spiritual health.  The idea of illness was embedded into the belief that the body was composed of a series of complex components that required balancing what were understood to be the essential fluids (blood, phlegm, black bile and yellow bile) with the elements (air, water, fire and earth) and their key characteristics (hot, cold, wet and dry) as well as astrology. Deficiencies and excesses in any one component might put the entire complex equation for stability and harmony in jeopardy.  When attempts to achieve balance these failed, and the person remained sick in body, mind or, for that matter, sin, pilgrimage was often seen as the most logical next step.  Pilgrims understood that this was a two-way street and that they would have to make some sort of sacrifice, part of which might be the difficulty of undertaking the journey, but gifts and promises of reform were also part of the negotiation.  Pilgrimages were undertaken for many other reasons too, but the healing properties of St Winefride’s shrine were probably the main attraction to most visitors.

Medieval ampulla for carrying liquids or earth from a pilgrim site

Example of a medieval ampulla used for carrying liquids or earth from a pilgrim site. Source: The Mobility of Objects across Boundaries

St Winefride’s recorded visitors and patrons are a roll-call of the celebrities of the era, the royal and the aristocratic, who were major marketing coups for Basingwerk.  Although those few known by name are listed below, the everyday participants along the pilgrim routes were more often ordinary people.  Reasons for their travels varied, including seeking to undertake a spiritual journey for personal improvement (perhaps one of many journeys);  to offer thanks for prayers that were answered; or to seek divine assistance for problems and maladies by asking a specific saint to intercede for them with God.  Some pilgrims also acted for those who were unable to attend themselves, offering prayers on their behalf, and returning home with garlands of the sacred moss or filling small flasks with the miraculous water.  These ordinary pilgrims from a wide variety of backgrounds always get lost in documented history, the Middle Ages being just as concerned with celebrity endorsements as the west is today, but were nevertheless the most essential components, the bread and butter raison d’être of a living shrine and the institution that managed it.

Ranulph II, Earl of Chester. Source: Wikipedia

Between 1115 and 1119 the second earl of Chester, Richard d’Avranches, son of Hugh Lupus made pilgrimages to the well.  With the shrine of St Werburgh within the Chester city walls, it might have been thought that he would look closer to home, but Richard is thought to have fallen out with the monks of the abbey.  In addition, it is not really a pilgrimage if it is only a ten minute walk, and Richard may have felt the need to make more of a gesture.  Ironically, a miracle took place during the pilgrimage, when Richard became cut off from his forces and his constable in Wirral prayed for assistance but as St Werburgh had been chosen rather than St Winefride, this was chalked up to a win for the Chester abbey.

In 1131 Ranulf II Gernons (1099-1153), fourth earl of Chester, founded the new Savignac (later Cistercian) Basingwerk Abbey somewhere in the area, presumably made of wood.  It is thought that it was moved to its current location in around 1157 to be rebuilt in stone, and this new location was very probably influenced by the presence of the nearby holy well, even though it was at that time part of the landholding of St Werburgh’s Abbey.

It is said that in 1188 or 1189 Richard I, the Lionheart (ruled 1189-1199), made a pilgrimage to Holywell.  Quite where he would have found the time is anyone’s guess.

Flint Castle

Flint Castle on the Dee Estuary, construction having begun in 1277

There is no record of Edward I (reigned 1272 to 1307) making a pilgrimage, but he presumably had no need to put himself to any real effort to visit either the abbey or the shrine, as by the 1270s he was already in the area.  In 1277 he began to build Flint Castle 6.9km/4.3 miles down the road from Basingwerk.  Whilst the castle was under construction it seems reasonable to assume that Edward was a frequent guest at the nearby monastery, and that he took the opportunity to visit the shrine.  In fact, Edward’s castle in Flint may have resulted in a busy time all round for the abbey, the church and the shrine, as the 100s of workers at the castle would have had at least some downtime and would doubtless have sought out a powerful religious shrine so close by.

In 1282 Edward’s armies returned to northeast Wales to engage with the Welsh princes once again, doing substantial damage to monastic lands in the process.  It is recorded that part of Holywell was burned, but it is not stated whether this was the village, the shrine or nearby buildings.  The abbey estates were certainly harmed, with the lost of crops and livestock, and Edward found himself compensating both Basingwerk and other Welsh abbeys that had come under fire during the fighting.  Pilgrims were presumably rather short on the ground at this time, but Edward and his armies probably formed part of the narrative of the abbey told to future pilgrims.

Miniature of Henry V

Miniature of Henry V, c.1411. Source: Wikipedia

According to chronicler Adam of Usk, Henry V (reigned 1413-1422) visited in around 1416, following his success at Agincourt, to give thanks, walking on foot to Holywell from the Shrewsbury abbey to which Winefride’s remains had been translated (moved) in 1138 from where she was originally buried in Gwytherin.  I have not found any reason why Henry would have singled her out to request support in battle, but apparently he prayed to her for assistance and his pilgrimage was an offering of thanks, which created a considerable stir.  Perhaps he had encountered the shrine as Prince of Wales during the military campaigns against Owain Glyndŵr that began in his father’s reign and which he ultimately suppressed.

The Earl and Countess of Warwick made gifts to the shrine in the 1400s there is is not stated that they ever visited.

Henry IV Bolingbroke (reigned 1399-1413) took the throne from Richard II (reigned 1377-1399), with Richard surrendering to Henry at Flint Castle in 1399.  It is possible that whilst he was in the area, Edward took the opportunity to visit St Winefride’s shrine, probably connecting with the monks at the same time.

In 1461 the Welsh bard Tudur Aled wrote that Edward IV (reigned twice in 1442-1483 and 1471-1483) had visited the shrine, but quite why is unclear.  He was a member, by descent, of the Mortimer family who had extensive properties in the Welsh Marches, in Chirk and Denbigh. There was, in fact, considerable resistance to Edward IV in areas of north Wales, including the rebellion of Owain Glyndŵr.  There is nothing in general events of that year that would seem to account for him being in Holywell, although Pritchard suggests that it might be connected with renewing the royal chantry, which seems like the most plausible reason.

St Winifrede's well by John Ingleby. Source: National Library of Wales via Zone47

St Winefrede’s well by John Ingleby (1749-1808) showing crutches slotted into the stonework above the spring.  Note the gallery at the left, and the mill wheel through the doorway.  Source: National Library of Wales via Zone47

Whether royal, aristocratic or of more humble origins, pilgrims continued to visit throughout the medieval period, and pilgrims continue to visit continue today.  As well as the sculpture on the left in the well chapel, showing a pilgrim being carried to the spring on an other man’s back (one in need, the other showing compassion) the visitor centre has examples of later wooden crutches that were apparently discarded after miracle cures had  been received.  In 18th and 19th century engravings crutches are shown slotted into the stone structure of the pilgrim shrine presumably as a record of successes and gestures of thanks (see the John Ingleby coloured engraving towards the end of the page).

For visitors to Holywell and the shrine in the post-medieval periods, which are not covered here, see the Early Visitors in Wales page dedicated to Holywell.

The late Gothic chapels

The patrons of the new chapels

Ceiling boss showing Lady Margaret and the Earl of Derby

Ceiling boss in the lower chapel allegedly showing Lady Margaret with her husband Thomas Stanley, the Earl of Derby

It has passed into tradition that the founder of the chapel that we see today was Lady Margaret, née Beaufort.  Lady Margaret was the mother, by her first husband, of the future King Henry VII who was the founder of the fan-vaulted Lady Chapel in Westminster Abbey, designed by Robert Vertue.  Lady Margaret, born 1443 had married three times by the time she died in 1509, her last husband being Thomas Stanley, Earl of Derby, a member of an important and wealthy local family in the Wrexham area.  She is thought to have patronized St Giles in Wrexham, St Mary the Virgin in Mold and St Chad’s in Farndon.  She sponsored two publishers, both of whom (possibly at her suggestion) published lives of St Winefride.  The involvement of the Stanley family, whether Lady Margaret was involved or not, is suggested quite strongly by the number of relevant carvings in the chapel, including:

  • A sculptural portrait thought to represent Lady Margaret and her husband Thomas Stanley (1435-1504), Earl of Derby (although with very little data, if any, to substantiate the identification)
  • Over the outside of the door to the gallery there is a the portcullis emblem that Henry VII (reigned 1485-1509) derived from Lady Margaret
  • The arms of Sir William Stanley (died 1495), brother of Thomas Stanley showing a wolf’s head enclosed in a garter (rewarded by Henry VII for his role in the Battle of Bodsworth of 1485 but executed in 1495 for conspiracy)
  • The arms of Sir William Stanley’s wife Elizabeth Hopton (died 1498) showing a barrel and a plant, forming a rebus – hop and tun – of her name
  • The 3-leg symbol of the Isle of Man reflects Sir John Stanley’s new title of Lord of Man, gifted to him in 1405 by Henry VII for his support during the War of the Roses
  • Other Stanley emblems including a stag’s head and eagle’s legs
  • Tudor emblems, including the dragon and greyhound in the spandrels of one of the doorways
  • The Royal arms of England and Wales at the end of the pendant ceiling boss over the spring
  • The coat of arms of Queen Katherine of Aragon (1485-1536), the wife of Henry VII’s son Arthur before Arthur’s death in 1502, featuring three pomegranates topped with a crown. Lady Margaret was her grandmother-in-law, dying in the same year as Katherine’s marriage to Arthur’s brother Henry VIII (reigned 1509-1547) in 1509

In addition, Henry VII chose to include a statue of St Winefride in a niche in the north apse of his own Lady Chapel in Westminster Abbey.  She is shown with her head on her shoulders, but there is also a small head on its side at her feet, sitting on the top of the well.

Lower chapel roof bosses.

Lower chapel roof bosses. Clockwise from top left:  Arms of Katherine of Aragon; Wolf-head shield of Hugh I or Richard d’Avranches (probably the latter); Either St Winefride or the Virgin Mary, very battered but originally two angels placed a crown on her head; the base of the pendant boss shows the royal arms of England and Wales whilst the pendant itself shows scenes from the life of St Winefride (very worn); the legs of the Isle of Man, off centre; greyhound and to its left dragon, both symbols of the Tudors (on opposing doorway spandrels).

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St Winefride's Well. NLW 1129695. National Library of Wales.

St Winefride’s Well c.1790. NLW 1129695. National Library of Wales via Zone47 Zone47.

The construction of the two chapels, above and below, seems to have been overseen by Abbot Thomas Pennant of Basingwerk, who held the abbacy from 1480 – c.1522.  T.W. Pritchard has argued that there is evidence form contemporary Welsh bardic-style poetry to assign the patronage and building to Abbot Thomas, but the weakness in this interpretation is that the bards connected with, and often living at, monastic properties were often effusive, fulsome and sycophantic, and not necessarily truthful.  The poets were making no attempt to capture history, creating a highly partial view of the world as they experienced it in hyperbolic language as an art form. Nor is it at all clear whether Abbot Thomas would have known of the fan vaulting style, or where he would have found an architect to produce it.  On the whole, given that I have seen no argument that the above family-related topics were added at a later date, the data seems to favour the Stanley family as the creators of the chapel, with Abbot Thomas managing the build locally, and perhaps investing in some of its creation.  Without documentary data this remains uncertain.

The concept

Plan and elevation of St Winefrede's Well. Source: Journey to the Past

Plans and elevations of St Winefride’s Well, lower and upper chapels. Source: Journey to the Past (a collaboration between Bangor University, the University of Wales Centre for Advanced Welsh and Celtic Studies (CAWCS) and the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historic Monuments of Wales)

The late Gothic buildings that we see today came late in the well’s medieval history.  The style, late Perpendicular, comes towards the end of the 15th and beginning of the 16th century, only a couple of decades before Basingwerk Monastery was suppressed in Henry VIII’s Dissolution, shortly after which Edward VI began a policy of suppressing Catholicism.  It is not know what the chapel and well looked like before this time, because there are no images or descriptions, but the new architectural conceptualization design, consisted of two parts, the lower fan-vaulted well chapel, and over the top of this a more conventional church-like structure with a nave, side aisle, chancel and stained glass windows, with more sculptural elements.  These are discussed further below.

Holywell upper chapel and parish church

The parish church on the right and the upper chapel of St Winifride’s Well on the left, showing their proximity

The design was governed by how pilgrims used both the well and the neighbouring church.  Pilgrims would arrive in Holywell at the abbey.  Some of them would take advantage of the abbey’s hospitality.  In the late medieval period the abbot was responsible for new stone-built accommodation for visitors, but there must have been provision previously, perhaps built in wood.  For those who wanted to stay elsewhere, the late medieval town would have offered alternatives.

The upper chapel, looking west

For pilgrims staying at the abbey, a walk to the holy well would have been guided by a monk who would lend monastic authority to the event.  On arrival at the shrine, pilgrims would have been taken up to the chapel to pray and receive guidance before they could proceed to the shrine itself.  The upper chapel was designed to hold large numbers of people in a church-like layout and environment.  It was only a few steps away from the parish church where visitors could also attend services.  The placing of the upper chapel over the top of the well was a clever way both of making the most of the steep hill, and of linking the well with the parish church.  The design of the three bays of the shrine took pilgrims in a procession that entered through one entrance, proceeded around the shrine and lead either out the other side.  There were steps down into the well itself.

Lower Chapel

The well with the ceiling pendant boss overhead, which showed scenes from the life of St Winefrede around it, and the Royal arms of England and Wales at its base

The well with the ceiling pendant boss overhead, which showed scenes from the life of St Winefrede around it, and the Royal arms of England and Wales at its base.

At the level of the spring is a tall, narrow open-fronted well chapel, with a lofty fan-vaulted ceiling on slender compound piers over three bays of which the middle, encompassing the well, is the largest.  The chapel defines a processional area where people could enter at one side, circle the star-shaped basin where the spring emerges, and light candles before and leaving at the other side.  One theory is that the almost star-shaped well represented the Pool of Bethesda.  A staircase led to a gallery where people could look down into the well.  A rectangular pool received the spring waters outside, in a similar way as it does today, but images from the 18th century suggest that the much greater volume also allowed it to run out of the other end of the pool as a strong stream flowing down the hill.

The fan vaulting had sculptural roof bosses wherever there were joints.  The opportunity was taken with nearly all of them, big and small, to create sculptural elements, some of which are shown below.  The main pendant roof boss, suspended over the centre of the spring well, has the royal coat of arms of England and Wales on the base, whilst the sides shown scenes from the life of St Winefride. The columns around the well are now broken, the remaining stumps at two levels shown in the photograph above, but once formed an intricate screen, with filigree-style details in the spandrels.  The string-course of decorated stone along the top of the well was also decorated in the same way.

The entire effect must have been very like a tiny, sublime cathedral in rural northeast Wales.
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The themes on the ceiling bosses and other areas of the lower chapel show some interesting choices.  As well as the heraldry relating to the Stanleys listed above, there are some ceiling bosses relating to Winefride, Beuno and other religious themes, other families, and plant and animal motifs.

Upper Chapel

The upper chapel

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The upper chapel, looking east to the chancel

The upper chapel, looking east to the chancel

Over the top of the lower well chapel was an enclosed chapel, designed with a conventional nave and chancel, with one truncated side aisle, to which pilgrims could proceed following their experience at the spring to worship and hear services. The design of window openings and arches is Perpendicular with wide, flattened arches and tall mullioned windows that allow plenty of light into the space.  side aisle sits directly over the well, whilst the chancel at the east end extends beyond the space enclosed by the lower chapel.

The north aisle, overlooking the pool

The north aisle, over the top of the well and overlooking the pool. Only one aisle was built.

The camberbeam roof over the nave

The camber-beam roof over the nave

Modern stained glass window in the chancel

Modern stained glass window in the chancel

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As with the lower chapel, the upper chapel has some rather wonderful sculptural elements, with much less emphasis on family symbolism, and much more on the sort of themes that are found in the margins of illuminated manuscripts, on misericords, and in the roof areas of churches.  They include scenes of everyday life; pagan, mythological and religious motifs; and two humourous grotesques.  The wood carvings, high in the chancel and the nave on stone corbels are difficult to see due to their height and the lack of light.  The stone carvings, which are lower down, are quite easy to make out.

My photos of the wood carvings were frankly diabolical.  I couldn’t actually see what I was photographing in the chancel, so just pointed the camera and hoped for the best.  Even after applying Photoshop, in some cases I am still none the wiser.  Apologies, therefore, that there are so few of them.  A torch would be a handy accessory if you are thinking of visiting.

Sculptural elements from the upper chapel.

Sculptural elements from the upper chapel.

The chapel was considerably altered in the 1700s but has since been restored to something close to its previous appearance.
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The Dissolution of the Monasteries

The opening page of the Valor Ecclesiasticus, showing Henry VIII.

The opening page of the Valor Ecclesiasticus, which valued each of the main monasteries, showing Henry VIII. Source: Wikipedia

The suppression of the monastic houses from 1535 was Henry VIII’s multi-pronged strategy to gain a divorce from Katherine of Aragon, denied to him by the Pope (Katherine was fortunate enough to retain her head); to escape the authority of the Pope and the bishops and place himself as the head of the Church; to strip monasteries and priories of their valuables to raise funds for the Crown; and to release estates from formerly powerful monastic landholders, which enabled him to redistribute land, wealth and power, which he could use to generate money and to negotiate for long-term political support.  In order to assess the value of the nation’s monastic holdings, his hench-man Thomas Cromwell ordered the Valor Ecclesiasticus (a an assessment of the income and assets of each monastic house) and assessors were duly sent out to all parts of the kingdom.  All of those worth less than £200.00 were immediately suppressed, which included all the Welsh houses.  The remaining monks and nuns were dispersed, willingly or unwillingly.  They were often granted reasonably generous pensions if they left without a fight.  Abbot Nicholas Pennant, the last abbot of Basingwerk, clearly gave no trouble to the administrators because he left with a pension.  Monastic properties were sold, gifted or broken up and otherwise disposed of by Henry’s administrators.

All that remains of the monastic church at Basingwerk

All that remains of the monastic church at Basingwerk today

The impact on St Winefride’s Well was felt both immediately and incrementally thereafter.  With the loss of the abbey, the shrine no longer had monastic support and oversight.  Whatever funding, maintenance and care the shrine received were withdrawn.  The shrine would now be the responsibility of the church and the village.  Pilgrims were deprived of monastic hospitality.  With no monastic guidance to the shrine when they arrived, a lot of the ceremony and sense of a special occasion were removed, perhaps making a pilgrimage less attractive and rewarding.  Certainly the oblations (pilgrim donations) began to decline significantly.  At the same time, political and religious instability may well have deterred pilgrims.  The loss of the monks as managers of the abbey’s landholdings and industrial properties may not have been felt immediately, but whatever processes were in place may have required a new approach to estate management by those actually working the land and this may have had an impact on the local economy, particularly Holywell itself, undermining the economic stability and prosperity of the village at least for some time afterwards.
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After Henry VIII

The Devil selling Indulgences. Jenksy Kodex, c.1500. Source: Wikipedia

Splendidly evocative depiction of the Devil selling Indulgences, from a Czech illuminated manuscript called the Jenksy Kodex, c.1500. Source: Wikipedia

Quite what Henry VIII planned for the future of the new Church of England is not clear. He probably had very little strategic idea himself, but it is certain that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer (1489-1556), an advisor to Henry, had plans, which included maximizing his influence has the clerical head of the Church of England. One of Henry VIII’s particular obsessions was the destruction of all traces of the veneration of St Thomas Becket.  For Henry VIII, Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Becket (1119/20-1556) had been the ultimate Church challenge to “royal supremacy” in which the king rather than the Church held ultimate authority.  Becket was murdered over the question.  The horror with which Becket’s murder was received forced King Henry II to back down and make the peace with a powerful clergy who were backed by the papacy and who had ultimately won the day.  In Henry’s similar battle with church supremacy, with the Pope refusing to condone the annulment of his marriage to Katherine of Aragon, Becket was the embodiment of Church interference with royal right to rule without challenge.  There are only a few representations of Becket today in churches.

After Henry VIII died, Archbishop Cranmer had great influence over Henry’s young son, Edward VI (reigned 1547-1553) during Edward’s six-year reign.  The result was a Tudor clamp-down on Papism, its rules and its traditions, including indulgences, the veneration of saints, and the worship of icons, a policy that went through phases of persecution and lapses of energy.  Edward was not pulling his punches, as this excerpt from Edward VI’s Royal Injunctions of 1547, demonstrates, commanding

. . . that they shall take away, utterly extinct and destroy all shrines, covering of shrines, all tables, trundles or rolls of wax, pictures, paintings and all other monuments of feigned miracles, pilgrimages, idolatry and superstition, so that there remain no memory of the same in walls, glasses, windows or elsewhere within their churches or houses.  And they shall exhort all their parishioners to do the like within their several houses. [See University of Michigan in Sources]

The instruction to erase all reminders of the recent religion, focusing specifically on objects, is an impressive measure of Edward VI’s understanding of the power of objects and how they mediate people’s ideologies, beliefs and sense of both security and identity.  The enormous destruction of objects and art during the Reformation was a strategy to systematically erase the tangible links between people and their beliefs, suppressing in every sense the way in which people understood, expressed and experienced their sense of the connection between the physical and spiritual world in which they lived and which defined their existence.  The result was often exactly what Edward VI would have wanted.  It is astonishing that St Winefride’s chapels were able to escape.

St Winefride's Well with Holywell in the background

St Winefride’s Well with Holywell in the background, 18th century. Watercolour by John Ingleby. Source: People’s Collection Wales

After the Dissolution the well began to become the focus of Catholic (specifically Jesuit) sedition.  In Holywell, Basingwerk Abby had now been stripped of its roof lead, always the beginning of ruin, and although part of it is thought to have been occupied as a house for a while, it was ultimately abandoned.  However, the well and the accompanying church continued to be an illicit focus of Catholic devotion, and St Winefride’s chapel continued to be maintained and visited, often at enormous risk to both residents and visitors, sometimes resulting in imprisonment or execution.  Perhaps directly linked to this illicit expression of devotion, and a way of bonding with the shrine, are many, many carved pieces of graffiti, mostly alphabetic, some dates and a few unexplained pictograms.  That’s all another story, and a really interesting one for another day, but it is really quite remarkable that the shrine survived centuries of religious intolerance to eventually experience a revival of pilgrim and tourist attention in 18th and 19th centuries, at which time the buildings underwent restoration.

Lead repair of stonework along the side of the well

 

Final Comments

Ceiling boss in the lower chapel

Ceiling boss in the lower chapel

St Winefrede, a 7th century saint, is one of the best known saints in Wales.  The miracle-working shrine with its gushing natural spring became so popular and important throughout the medieval period that in the late 15th or early 16th century it was provided with a brand new pair of chapels, upper and lower, that provided a building of late gothic splendour to frame the well and provide spaces for experiencing the spring and for worshipping in a church-like environment.  It welcomed pilgrims, was an asset to its owners and contributed to the economy of Holywell itself.

The site was awarded the status of a National Shrine in 2023.  It continues to be a significant draw for both pilgrims and tourists, and makes for a very attractive day out when combined with both Basingwerk Abbey and the industrial heritage park, continuing to make its presence felt.

Visiting

With parking nearby, a visit to St Winefride’s Well can take no longer than an hour or so to visit, but it can be combined with the Greenfield Valley Heritage Park to make a full day out, particularly when the small town at the top of the hill is included in the trip.

On the map of Greenfield Valley to the right, the Holywell spring and chapel are at the very top (the car park is just down the hill at the What3Words address ///scanning.smarting.brisk or a lay-by just up the hill at W3W ///fidgeting.grain.nail). Alternative parking is at Basingwerk Abbey at the very bottom of the park, bigger than that for the chapel, at W3W ///assess.origin.flicks). There is also plenty of parking in the town at the top of the hill.

The other sites on the map shown here are described on the post about Greenfield Valley’s industrial heritage.  The church of St James has been closed on the three occasions when I have visited, but it lies behind the chapel, just uphill from it.  There is a cafe next to the abbey, on the bottom right of the map, but check the website listed below, because at the time of writing it is under refurbishment.

The Visitor Centre, ticket office and souvenir shop are on the left as you enter the grounds, and it is from here that you collect the key for the upstairs chapel as well (they ask that you leave your keys as a deposit).  The Visitor Centre is a single large room, with some excellent interpretation boards and some original objects on display (note that there is a sign saying that it is not permitted to take photographs in the Visitor Centre).

The spring and the fan-vaulted well chapel are on the same level as the Visitor Centre via a door to the left of the ticket office. The overhead chapel, which sits over the top of the well chapel, is a little way uphill, on the footpath along the road.  To reach it you need to go back out of the Visitor Centre and turn left up the road.  Turn left again along the path that leads from the road to the church. The door faces uphill.

There is a free leaflet with a map, which you can collect from the ticket office.  I have scanned it and posted it here for download as a PDF, but note that the leaflet was longer than A4, so I’ve split it up and arranged it in portrait rather than landscape to fit it on two pages.  My version is not a thing of beauty, so it would be much better to pick up the leaflet when you visit!

I strongly recommend that if you don’t have a telephoto lens or very good zoom function on your phone, you take binoculars so that you can get a much better view of the carvings on the ceilings in the lower shrine and on corbel tops in the upper chapel.  A powerful torch would certainly help too, particularly in the upper chapel.

Finally, do note that this is still a place of pilgrimage and prayer, and you may run into people having a quiet moment in front of the statue of Winefride within the lower chapel, or even having a dip in the outer pool.  A lady did so when I was last there on a freezing cold day, and after drying off she went pray in front of the statue just inside the entrance of the lower chapel.  I carried on with what I was doing, but gave her space.
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Sources

Books and Papers

Joseph Mallord William Turner, Holywell: The Interior of the Cloisters, St Winifred's Well 1799


Joseph Mallord William Turner, Holywell: The Interior of the Cloisters, St Winifred’s Well 1799. Source: The Tate

Baker, Nigel 1998. Shrewsbury Abbey. A Medieval Monastery. Shropshire Books.

Barraclough, Geoffrey 1988. The Charters of the Anglo-Normal Earls of Chester c.1071-1237.  The Record Society of Lancashire and Cheshire, vol. CXXVI

Bartlett, Robert 2013. Why Can the Dead Do Such Great Things?  Saints and Worshippers from the Martyrs to the Reformation.  Princeton University Press.

Burne, R.V.H. 1962. The Monks of Chester. The History of St Werburgh’s Abbey. SPCK

David, Christopher 1969, 2002 (2nd edition). St Winefride’s Well.  A History and Guide

Farmer, David 2011 (5th edition). The Oxford Dictionary of Saints. Oxford University Press

Given-Wilson, C. (ed.) 1977.  The Chronicle of Adam Usk 1377-1421. Clarendon Press
https://archive.org/details/chronicleofadamu0000adam/page/n5/mode/2up

Garland, Lisa M. 2005.  Aspects of Welsh Saints’ Cults and Pilgrimage c.1066-1532. Unpublished PhD, King’s College London
https://kclpure.kcl.ac.uk/ws/files/2935809/420753.pdf

Gray, Madeleine 2007.  Welsh Saints in Westminster Abbey.  Transactions of the Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion 2006, New Series, 13 (2007), p.5-30
https://www.cymmrodorion.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/2_Welsh-Saints-in-Westminster-Abbey.pdf

Hubbard, Edward 1986. The Buildings of Wales: Clwyd (Denbighshire and Flintshire). Penguin

Pritchard, T.W. 2009. St Winefride, Her Holy Well and the Jesuit Mission, c.650-1930. Bridge Books

Tait, James 1920. The Chartulary or Register of the Abbey of St Werburgh. Chartulary of Chester, part 1. Chetham Society

Turner, Rick 2019. The Architecture, Patronage and Date of St Winefride’s Well, Holywell. Archaeologia Cambrensis 168, p.245-275
https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archiveDS/archiveDownload?t=arch-3493-1/dissemination/168-2019/10-Arch_Camb_168_Turner_245-275.pdf

Webb, Diana 2000. Pilgrimage in Medieval England.  Hambledon and London

Williams, David H. 2001. The Welsh Cistercians. Gracewing


Websites

Based In Churton
Basingwerk Abbey
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-2Ju
Greenfield Valley (industrial heritage)
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-3eL
St Werburgh’s Abbey (multiple posts)
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/category/chester-cathedral/
A roof boss of Thomas Becket in the Abbey of St Werbergh (Chester Cathedral)

https://basedinchurton.co.uk/2023/07/14/a-ceiling-boss-in-chester-cathedral-the-murder-of-thomas-becket/

Early Tourists in Wales
Holywell and St Winifred’s well
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/attractions/2231-2/

Essex Record Office
Salvation for sale
https://www.essexrecordofficeblog.co.uk/document-of-the-month-august-2017-salvation-for-sale/

Greenfield Valley Heritage Park
https://greenfieldvalley.com/

Greenfield Valley Café
At time of writing closed for refurbishment – check link below
https://greenfieldvalley.com/visit/greenfield-valley-cafe/

Heneb
Holywell
https://heneb.org.uk/archive/cpat/ycom/flints/holywell.pdf

Landmark Trust
St Winifred’s Well (Woolston)
https://cms.landmarktrust.org.uk/globalassets/3.-images-and-documents-to-keep/history-albums/st-winifreds-well-2025.pdf

Shrewsbury Orthodox Church
Saint Winefride (Gwenffrewi) (with a photograph of the St Winefrede chapel and spring at Woolston)
https://shrewsburyorthodox.com/local-saints/saint-winefride-gwenffrewi/

streetsofsalem
Monarchs and Monkeys
https://streetsofsalem.com/2014/03/26/monarchs-and-monkeys/

St Winefride’s Shrine and Visitor Centre
https://www.stwinefridesshrine.org/blank-1

University of Michigan – Digital collections
A collection of articles injunctions, canons, orders, ordinances, and constitutions ecclesiastical: with other publick records of the Church of England; chiefly in the times of K. Edward. VIth. Q. Elizabeth. and K. James. Published to vindicate the Church of England and to promote uniformity and peace in the same. And humbly presented to the Convocation.
https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo2/A79649.0001.001/1:7?rgn=div1;view=fulltext

 

Statue outside the shrine

Statue of St Winefride outside the shrine

 


 

Medieval ambition and Civil War musket ball holes at the Church of St Chad’s in Holt (Grade 1 listed)

Introduction

Either side of the River Dee, and linked by the lovely late medieval red sandstone bridge, are the villages of Holt on the Welsh side and Farndon on the English side, each with its own substantial red sandstone church, both of which are dedicated to St Chad and both of which have well-populated churchyards.  Each has its own very particular character and personality, and as well as being the centres of Christian devotion and burial, seamlessly blending life and death, both have Civil War stories and scars and both continue to function as places of worship today.  This post is about the Grade-1 listed St Chad’s in Holt.

Map showing the location of Mercia and the line of the Anglo-Welsh border. Source: Wikipedia

The church is located at the top of the slope that runs down to the river crossing, precisely where Bridge Street meets Church Street, opposite the small rectangular green.  An attractive wrought iron gateway is set between a house on one side and the Peal O’ Bells pub on the other, and opens onto a path flanked by red sandstone garden walls leading to the church and churchyard.  The church is light-filled with a peaceful atmosphere and some notable features, some of them very unusual. The overall effect of St Chad’s is welcoming and combines a sense of heritage with contemporary relevance.  For details about visiting, see Visiting Details at the end.

According to Bede (in the 8th century) St Chad, who died in AD 672, was a leading light in the Anglo-Saxon church, rising through the ecclesiastical ranks in the kingdoms of Northumbria and Mercia and under King Wulfhere, one of the earliest Christian kings, became the first Bishop of Lichfield in the new diocese of Lichfield, at the heart of Mercia.  Mercia was one of seven British kingdoms of 7th century Britain and occupied most of central England, with much of the border with Wales, always a movable feast, somewhat further to the west.  Regarded as a pioneer who helped to spread Christianity in and beyond Mercia, he became popular during the Middle Ages in the Midlands and its borders.

The following details are just the edited highlights. For a more technical architectural description see the Wrexham Churches Survey (see Sources at the end).  The church very much rewards a visit.
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Exterior

South side of St Chad’s Church, Holt

The church is approached through a pair of wrought iron gates that were made in 1816 and replaced the former lychgate.  As you approach the church and walk around to find the carvings around the south door, you will notice a change underfoot because in the immediate vicinity of the church the path is composed of horizontal ledger grave stones and vertical headstones laid flat (distinguished by chisel marks at the bases, which would have been underground), all forming huge paving slabs, some from the 18th century.

Path made up of grave markers

The exterior of the church is built of local red sandstone, the older parts badly eroded on the exterior, probably as a result of traffic pollution.  Sandstone, being soft, lends itself to graffiti and there is quite a lot of it dotted around the building, dating from the 18th century.  The roof of the rectangular nave and chancel is made of copper, which accounts for its green colour.  Copper was more expensive than the more usual lead, and is both fire resistant and more enduring, as well as a gesture of status.

A curious feature of the church and its roof-level features is the presence of crocketed pinnacles, each with twin gargoyles on the north sides and the absence of them on the south side.  I only noticed because I love gargoyles and go looking for them.  This is due to the removal of the pinnacles on the south side during 1732, one of the periods of redesign and alteration.

North side of the church, showing four pinnacles, each of which is adorned with small gargoyles. Photograph taken from the west, just next to the tower.

The tower features four gargoyles on the corners at the very top of the tower, and a string-course just below that level marked by floral ornamental motifs and small grotesques, very similar to the sculpted string-course that you can see here at Gresford All Saints’.  The 18th century bells are referred to below.  The top of the tower has gargoyles at its corners and the roof of the tower appears to be leaded.

The string course of grotesques, flowers and other motifs near the top of the tower.

 

A circuit of the exterior reveals that there are three doorways.  The studded west door, through which visitors enter today, is impressively large, but has no notable features.

The earliest entrance is the south door, with some lovely, albeit very eroded ornamental carvings. This would have been the main access from the castle, which is why it was so ornate.  As well as decorative motifs, there is a central panel showing the Annunciation set over the top of the arch and carvings in the spandrels (the three-sided sections between the arch and the square frame).  The spandrel on the right as you face the door shows the arms of Henry VII, together with a figure wearing a mitre; the other side is very worn. Above the door and its surround is a carved band of small quatrefoil motifs, each arranged in patterns of four. xxx

The door that opens into the north aisle of the church (round to the left of the tower as you face it) has nice carved details in the spandrels between the arch and the square frame.  Most fascinatingly, it has a line of three holes in it plugged with wooden stoppers.  These holes are called loopholes and were used for firing muskets from inside, much like arrow-slits in medieval castles.

The north entrance with the “loop holes.”

At the east end, under the central window, is an unusual little memorial built into the wall to Jasper Peck Esq and his wife Amy, died 1712 and 1740 respectively, the latter the daughter of Sir Kenrick Eyton.

At the east end of the church, built into the external wall beneath the central window, is an 18th century memorial

A memorial in the churchyard of St Chad’s, Holt

The churchyard contains plenty of grave stones and memorials.  The earliest, now moved for its protection inside the church (about which more below) dates to either the late 17th or early 18th century.  Although there are many from the 18th century, the majority of graves and their memorials date to the 19th century, with a range of fairly typical shapes and symbols.  Most of the memorials accompanying the graves are headstones, but earlier chest-style memorials and ledgers (inscribed horizontal slabs) are also represented, together with more obviously monumental types.  The cemetery was later extended east, possibly in an effort to avoid the north side of the church, which only has one gravestone, and even that is at the far east end.  The north side of a churchyard, in the shadow of the church, was often reserved either for burials that had to be buried in unconsecrated ground, such as suicides or babies who had died before baptism, but might also contain pauper and unmarked graves.  The monument known as the Roman Pillar, shown further down the page, may or may not have originally been a Roman column from the nearby tileworks, but in the churchyard performed the role of a sundial, now without a dial, with an octagonal top with the engraving TP WR CW 1766.

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Interior

The plan of St Chad’s is simple, with the tower at the west end, and the chancel (where the high altar is located) at the east end as usual.  The nave, where the congregation sits, is flanked by two aisles.  The chancel is flanked by two chapels for private prayer.

The roof looks as though it belongs to the Perpendicular period, but is belongs to the restoration of 1871-3

Heading through the impressive main door, set into the base of the tower, and through the glass-panelled doors into the nave, you are immediately presented with an uninterrupted view down the full length of the tall nave towards the east end.  The multiple large windows, only one of which has stained glass (dating to the early 1900s), provide the interior with a lot of natural light, even in the absence of clerestories. The arcades are made of a fine yellow sandstone, much better than red sandstone for creating a light space, and much more refined in appearance. The warm, light reddish wood of the relatively modern pews helps to add to avoid any sense of dourness.  The walls lack the usual distracting and overblown clutter of highly ornamental wall memorials.  Looking up, the wooden ceiling looks as though it belongs to the Perpendicular period, but is belongs to the restoration of 1871-3.

Inevitably there is a bank of 1910 organ pipes blocking the south aisle, shutting out light and preventing direct access from the north aisle to the north chapel, but this is entirely typical, echoing the same scheme in both Gresford and Malpas churches, amongst many others.  Similarly, the south aisle is truncated at the western end of the aisle by a small room presumably used as a vestry.

The 13th and 14th Centuries

Holt Castle by Peter Mazell in 1779. Source: Castle Studies Trust

There is no evidence of a church prior to the 13th century.  The village of Holt was built in the early 1280s, probably as a bastide by John de Warenne, the 7th Earl of Surrey under a charter from Edward I.  A bastide was a newly laid out pioneer town built around a castle on the edge of potentially hostile territory.  Edward I imported the idea imported from Gascony where he had founded a number of new defended towns, and used it as a model for Flint Castle and its bastide town, as well as subsequent castles in his circle of defences in north Wales.  Defensive walls may have been planned for the town but were never built.  The foundations of the first church were probably included in the plan for the border colony, along with a former marketplace (where the village square is located today).

The earliest remaining components of the present church belong to the 13th -14th century.  The nave arcades (arches that divide the nave from the aisles) feature five bays of lancet-shaped pointed arches that date to this period and indicate either that the original church of c.1280 was aisled, or that aisles were a later 14th century addition.  The aisles were widened in the 15th century, removing the older aisle outer walls, but the original ones almost certainly featured lancet-shaped windows of the earlier gothic “Decorated” style.

The earliest of the aisle arches are pointed (or lancet) shaped, unlike the later Perpendicular arches that flank the chancel.

An attractive 14th century “credence table,” looking like a small shrine, was built into the south wall of the Lady Chapel at the east end of the south aisle, moved into this position in Sir William Stanley’s alterations in the late 15th century.  This was used for accessories used to celebrate Holy Mass.  The underside, completely hidden when looking down onto the small platform, has a marvellous grotesque face flanked by two faces, one human and one animal, looking very like a misericord.  If there were misericords in the late medieval choir, like the lovely ones at Gresford, these are long gone.   A mirror leans against the wall but can be laid flat for those who want to see the underside without kneeling down.

Unexpected underside of the credence table, looking very like a misericord

Late 15th Century

In 1483 Richard III granted the Lordship of Bromfield and Yale to Sir William Stanley, which incorporated both Holt Castle and the church.  Stanley made significant changes to the church, removing and replacing the outer walls of the original aisles to widen them, providing them with the Perpendicular style windows, and extended the arcade at the east end.  For reasons unknown, the north aisle is wider than the south aisle. The south aisle chapel is a Lady Chapel. The little leaflet that the church provides suggests, with reservations, that that the chancel, which is slightly out of alignment with the nave, may have been a so-called “weeping chancel,” deliberately and symbolically echoing the images of the crucifixion where Christ’s head is tiltee down to his right.

At the chancel, the two bays of arcades flanking the chancel (the choir and high altar), have much wider four-centred (flattened) arches, providing a very fine contrast to the earlier lancet-shaped arches.  The new arcades were fitted with carved stone heads at the tops of the east and west walls, all but three undetermined male heads.  The other three consist of one male head that is crowned and is probably a king, another depicting a dog and another a grotesque face. 

There were apparently problems with the civil engineering of the new east arcade. The last of the free-standing arcade pillars in the south aisle is at a distinct angle, and there is a pillar at the east end, against the wall, which does not reach the roof, as described on the Clwyd Powys Archaeological Trust / Heneb website: “To explain anomalies at the east end of the south aisle it has been suggested that because the east window of the aisle was too large for the wall to support, an external buttress had to be placed nearer to this window than was planned. An internal pillar was then constructed where the exterior buttress should have been sited.”  

Mitred figure at St Chad’s, Holt

The tower at the west end, through which you enter the church, has a spiral stair case to the bell tower (closed to the public).  As you go into the nave from the tower, look right.  There is a carving of a figure wearing a mitre, which is a fragment of a medieval bench-end of the sort that you can see in the choirs at Chester Cathedral and Gresford All Saints’, and suggests that there was once some very interesting Gothic wood carving here.  The mitre is consistent with it representing St Chad, but other candidates are also entirely plausible.  During 19th century restoration work the head was removed from the church and for reasons unknown found itself at Holt Hall, where its dignity was severely undermined, having been employed as a newel post. Holt Hall was one of the many of the fine buildings that failed to survive the early 20th century, and when it was taken down in the 1940s the head was returned to St Chad’s.

Also at the west end to the right as you enter the church, in the south aisle, is the wonderful font, elaborately and deeply carved and dated by Edward Hubbard to c.1493 on the basis of the heraldry that appears in amongst the other carved panels.  It is a truly remarkable object, featuring the above-mentioned heraldic emblems, religious symbols and even a number of grotesques.  The heraldic symbols include a stag’s head, which is one of the emblems of Sir William Stanley and the others are the arms of previous lords of Bromfield, the Warenne and Fitzalan families as well as the heraldic shield of King Richard II (reigned 1452-85).   Others are religious symbols showing emblems of Saints Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, the Lamb of God, the “pelican in her piety,” highly stylized roses representing the Virgin Mary and the ubiquitous gothic acanthus leaves.

The late 15th century font with a reconstruction from one of the interpretation boards showing how the shields may have been coloured

Sir William’s modifications represent a major investment and suggest enormous personal ambition, a desire to put his stamp on the biggest community asset in late medieval Holt.  It did not save him from political manoeuvring.  Although one of the richest men in England, Sir William Stanley was executed for suspected treason by Henry VII in 1495 and the Lordship of Bromfield and Yale reverted to the crown. 

The 17th Century

Musket ball holes in the west wall, south aisle of st Chad’s Church, Holt

The Civil War took place between 22nd August 1642 and 3rd September 1651, and had a massive impact on the Chester area, with opposing forces occupying Holt and Farndon at the strategic river crossing.  Frank Latham sets the scene as it was in 1643: “Because of its prominence on a hilltop overlooking the river the parish church of Farndon was garrisoned by Roundhead troops from 1643 to 1645 which enabled watch to be kept on the Welsh village of Holt and particularly on the castle there which was occupied by the enemy.” With Farndon in the hands of the Parliamentarians and Holt in the hands of the Royalists, armed conflict was almost inevitable, and the Battle of Farndon Bridge in November 1643 appears to have been the beginning of a number of skirmishes.  The castle was taken by the Parliamentarians, but in 1644 was retaken by the Royalists.  In 1647 it was besieged for 9 months. 

Fascinatingly, impact marks of musket balls scar the wall and pillars inside the west end of St Chad’s, which are an evocative reminder of the area’s troubled history at that time, when Royalist soldiers defended the church against the Parliamentarians, with hand-to-hand fighting taking place within the church itself.  You can find these mainly on the west wall of the south aisle (turn right as you walk in from the tower and they are on your right), with a few on the other side as well.  Don’t forget that the north aisle has a doorway with three “loop holes” through which weapons could be fired, only one of these can be seen from the interior, but there are also some marvellous lock fittings. 

Finally, a very small and beautifully decorated late brass plaque in the north aisle chapel should not be missed. Its beautifully reflective surface made it impossible to photograph nicely.  It is dedicated to Thomas Crue, who died in 1666.  The plaque was provided by his brother Silvanus Crue.  All of the imagery, with a skeleton flanked by skulls at its base, columns supporting sundials and hour glasses all reference time, death and the transition of the soul.  On the columns the words FUGIT HORA also reference the passing of time: “time flies.”  At the top, in the centre, a lion rampant stands over a grotesque head.  As well as some lovely engraved mortuary-themed decoration, it contains an acrostic; when read vertically, the first letter of each new line makes up one or more words.  In this case the vertical reading over two verses is THOMAS CRUE, and the full text is as follows (having performed some serious gymnastics to read it against the light):

The life of man incessantly from the womb
Hastneth both day and night unto the tomb
Of mortal life when once the thread is spunne
Man has a life immortal then begunne
A wise man dying lives; and living dies
Such was the main that here intombed lies

Carefull he liv’d gods secret laws to keep
Religiously until to Death or Sleepe
Unto a happy life his soule did bring
Ending this life to live with Christ our King

At the base it reads STIPENDIUM PECCATI MORS EST is a Latin phrase that translates as “The reward of sin is death,” and with dry humour typical of the 18th century, HODIE MIHI CRAS TIBI  translated as “Me today, you tomorrow”.  All of this may sound a little gloomy and morbid, but this was the era of John Donne and equally articulate metaphysical poets who engaged with satire, dark humour and word play, balancing the reality of time and its inevitable consequences with a strong sense of irony and flamboyant wit.

The 18th Century

In the south aisle, heading towards the chancel and on your left, there is a super grave slab that was moved in from the churchyard to protect it. It is a marvellous piece, with a skull and crossed bones, the skull having a somewhat surprisingly beatific smile on its face.  There are also some flowers at its base.  The flowers at bottom left were apparently typical of the 18th century, but the skull and crossed bones were better known from plague graves of the 17th century, and are known as memento mori stones, indicating the inevitability of death.

It is in this period that six bells were added to the tower, made by Rudhalls of Gloucester in 1714.  Presumably, if there had been any misericords these would have been removed either during the 17th century purge of medieval religious motifs, or at this time, although at least parts of the choir stalls were reported to be preserved in 1853, but were stripped out in the 1870s.  In 1720 the church was presented with a clock, which stayed in position until 1901.  This was followed by significant renovation of the church in 1732, during which, very sadly, the the rood loft and screens were removed.  This renovation also accounts for the parapet that replaced the pinnacles, gargoyles and battlements on the south side, although some were left in position on the north side.

A lovely engraved brass plaque near the entrance, on the west wall on the north side is worth looking out for, dedicated to John Lloyd and dating to 1784.

19th – 20th Century

The 19th century restoration between 1871 and 1873 was responsible for adding some of the ornamental features, such as the new seating in the nave and oak screens to separate the chancel from the side chapels, but also removed some of the memorial tablets from the walls.  Restoration work included including the renewal of the camber-beam oak panelled roof of the nave and the sanctuary at the far end of the chancel, re-laying of the floors and repairs to the window tracery.  Interestingly, many memorial tablets were removed during the renovation of the interior, which almost certainly improved it no end, but whatever remained of the rood screen and choir stalls were also stripped out.  It is possible that choir stalls and some stained glass were removed at this time, as they were mentioned by a visitor in the early 1850s. 

The interior ceiling corbels that support the camber beams were provided with sculptural elements, all human heads.  You will need binoculars or a long camera lens to see them, high up and in shadow, but a couple of examples are shown here.  There is no mention of them in any of the texts, so it is unclear if this dates to the major reworking during the 15th century, or to the 19th century restoration and reconstruction of the ceiling.

Nineteenth century restoration activities can often result in some hair-raising alterations, but St Chad’s seems to have got off quite lightly, retaining some fine original features.  The attempts to restore some of the original ambience were fairly sympathetic, and the new features were not unattractive.  As nineteenth century restorations go, it was not unsuccessful.

In 1896 the bells were provided with a new iron frame and the following year a weathervane was added.

The single stained glass window in St Chad’s, Holt. Early 20th century.

Since then, the main additions to the church have been the new clock in 1902 and a stained glass window later in the early 20th century. The new clock and chimes were fitted to commemorate the coronation of King Edward VIII and Queen Alexandra in 1902.  The stained glass window consists of four panels depicting saints.  The two central panels show St Chad holding an image of the church in his hand, and St Asaph (the church is in the diocese of St Asaph). The outer panels show St David, the patron saint of Wales and St Swithin, reflecting an older connection with Winchester Cathedral in 1547.  It is very nicely done for a 20th century window, emulating the gothic and works well with the rest of the church’s features.

In the 1960s the lighting and heating were improved and the roof coverings were restored.

Detail of Victorian pulpit, St Chad’s Holt

Uncertain dates

It is not known for sure when the tower was built.  One authority puts it in the 17th century, but it is more likely that is is much earlier, probably late 15th century.

Probably late medieval, but not officially dated, are consecration crosses, one of which is next to the radiator to the right of the credence table, and there are other similar consecration crosses marking places that have been consecrated by a member of the clergy elsewhere in the church.

There is a magnificent chest not far from the west end, which had four locks, each representing a keyholder who had to be present when the chest was opened.  This has not been dated, but realistically looks as though it could date to any time between the late 15th to the 17th century.
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Chest in St Chad’s, Holt

 

Today

There has also been some modernization to improve lighting and heating, which were probably much-needed.  The pipework for the heating system is fantastic – a remarkable feature in its own right, just as the heating system in Chester Cathedral makes its own contribution to domestic-industrial history.

A replacement sandstone block interrupting some engraved text on an external wall of the church

Obviously the church requires ongoing maintenance.  Sandstone is very vulnerable to pollution, and some of the blocks have had to be repaired using modern sandstone, but thanks to the church being set back from the road this is minor work.  It also looks as though some of the four gargoyles on the tower have experienced some damage, but that too is inevitable.  Overall, St Chad’s seems to be in really excellent condition and is clearly well cared for and appreciated.

The church organizers seem to be doing a very good job of balancing the contrasting demands on St Chad’s.  As well as the provision of plenty of information for visitors about the history and heritage of the church as a tourist attraction, the church is managed as a community asset for services, weddings, funerals and community activities.  Reflecting a concern with modern global issues, there are four “millennium banners,” made by members of the congregation to welcome in the year 2000, which capture local scenes but represent the universal ideas of love, hope, peace and faith.

 

Visiting St Chad’s, Holt

The “Roman pillar”

There is currently no dedicated website, so there is no generally available online information about opening times.  I was able to walk in during the day one bank holiday Monday on a whim, and found it open. On the other hand, I was there some months later at around 1230 on a Wednesday and it was closed, but I found that it had opened later in the afternoon.  There is a Facebook page but it has no details about opening times and contact details.  Please note that the email address on the National Churches Trust page bounces (i.e. it is defunct).  This is a living church, with Sunday services, weddings and funerals, so even if you do find out what the opening times may be, there will be times when it is not possible to gain access.

There is plenty of parking along the road, but there is also a public car park just a few minutes walk away on the other side of the rectangular grass area, Church Green, on the other side of the road from the church.  There is a car park next to the Dee on the Farndon side, but this is very small and fills up quickly at the weekend and during the school holidays, and floods when the river is up.

One of the bilingual interpretation panels in the church, describing the early development of the town

Information boards and circular panels on short pedestals explain the heritage of the church and are nicely done and for the most part do not intrude on the look and feel of the church.  A small black and white leaflet was available on the table to the right in the tower as you walk in, consisting of two sides of A4, folded, that lists the key features to see in the church.

For those worried about steps and accessibility, the church can be visited without having to negotiate any obstacles, as there is a ramp from the tower into the nave.  There are plenty of pews for giving irritable legs a rest.  Outside, there is a  wide path that runs along the south side of the church and a narrower one along the north side and these both felt safe underfoot. There are also tracks through the churchyard, but if you are looking for a particular grave, note that the grassy spaces between graves are very uneven and you need to take seriously good care where you place your feet.  I suspect that it gets very muddy during rainy periods, so appropriate footwear is recommended.

This would make an excellent start or finish to a walk along the River Dee, which has footpaths on both sides of the river.  The late medieval bridge is itself a joy.  On the Holt side a visit could easily take in Holt Castle as well and on the Farndon side there is, of course, the other St Chad’s.  There’s a pub next door to the Holt church that advertises food and a garden, which I haven’t yet tried, but might be handy for the end of a walk.  There are other pubs and coffee shops on both sides of the river, all serving food.


————-

Sources:

Visitor information in St Chad’s, Holt

Interpretation boards and panels

Free leaflet:  20 Minutes of Discovery Around St Chad’s Church Holt

 

Books and papers:

Farmer, David 2011 (5th edition).  Oxford Dictionary of Saints. Oxford University Press

Hubbard, Edward 1986.  The Buildings of Wales.  Clwyd (Denbighshire and Flintshire). Penguin Books and University of Wales Press

Latham, Frank. 1981.  Farndon: the History of a Cheshire Village. Farndon Local History Society


Websites:

Archaeodeath 
Skulls in Stone and Brass: Inside Holt Church
https://howardwilliamsblog.wordpress.com/2015/08/25/skulls-in-stone-and-brass-inside-holt-church/
Masters of Holt
https://howardwilliamsblog.wordpress.com/2015/10/09/masters-of-holt/

Based In Churton
Big and bold: All Saints’ Church in the small village of Gresford
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-43a
Gresford All Saints’ Church – exterior gargoyles and grotesques
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-498
Gresford All Saints’ Church – a beginner’s guide to funerary monuments
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-49Z
Miracles, myths, demons and the occasional grin: Misericords in the Chester-Wrexham area #2:  The churches of Gresford All Saints’, Malpas St Oswald’s and Bebington St Andrew’s
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-4Ey

British Listed Buildings
The Parish Church of St Chad, Holt
https://britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/300001596-parish-church-of-st-chad-holt

Cadw
The Parish Church of St Chad, reference 1596
https://cadwpublic-api.azurewebsites.net/reports/listedbuilding/FullReport?lang=en&id=1596

Coflein
St Chad’s, Holt
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/165283/?term=holt&pg=2
(images at https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/165283/images?term=holt)
Holt Bridge; Farndon Bridge, Holt, Wrexham

https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/24043/

Early Tourists in Wales
North side of the churchyard
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/material-culture/buildings/churchyards/special-graves/north-side-of-the-churchyard/

CPAT / HENEB – Wrexham Churches Survey
Church of St Chad, Holt
https://heneb.org.uk/archive/cpat/Archive/churches/wrexham/16796.htm
or https://cpat.org.uk/Archive/churches/wrexham/16796.htm 

National Churches Trust
St Chad’s, Holt
https://www.nationalchurchestrust.org/church/st-chad-holt

Peoples Collection Wales
St Chad’s Church, Holt
https://www.peoplescollection.wales/items/435519#?xywh=0%2C-55%2C799%2C642

St Chad’s, Holt – Facebook page
https://www.facebook.com/pages/St-Chads-Church-Holt/102667013120267

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One of the many heads at the tops of the aisle walls

 

Day Trip: Misericords and other choir carvings at St Bartholomew’s, Tong, Shropshire

Introduction

This time last year I wrote a short 3-part series about misericords in the Chester-Wrexham area, at St Werburgh’s Abbey (now Chester Cathedral), St Andrew’s Church in Bebbington and All Saints in Gresford.  These are all terrific examples of misericords, in really excellent architectural contexts.  On my way back from a short break in Shropshire in October I passed Tong, which I have been meaning to visit for years, so dropped in. Tong is on the A41, just where the road meets the M54, and the church, St Bartholomew’s is literally a couple of seconds off the A41.  It is about an hour’s drive from the Chester area.  It’s a very small, pretty village, and the collegiate church seems disproportionately large, but there was an inhabited castle here, and it was well used in both medieval and Tudor times. The unusual name Tong appears in Domesday as “Tuange.”  Although there is no consensus on the subject, it may derive from a word meaning “fork in the river,” referring to a meeting place of two streams near the former castle.

Lady Isobel and Sir Fulke Pembrugge. Lady Isobel founded the church in 1409 on the death of her husband.

St Bartholomew’s is thought to have been the third church on the site.  It was built by Royal License from 1409, the year of the death of crusader Sir Fulke de Pembrugge, by Lady Isabel Pembrugge, his second wife. It was finished by about 1430.  Lady Isabel established it as a collegiate church, meaning that as well as the church there was a separate building that housed a small community of secular (non-monastic) priests.  There were five at Tong, plus one or two clerks, who were employed to say masses for the soul of Sir Fulke de Pembrugge, in order to reduce his time in Purgatory, as well as prayers for other deceased souls.  The priests also ran a school for village children and a hospital for the elderly and sick, slight ruins of which still survive.  Both Sir Fulke and Lady Isabel are buried in the church in an elaborate tomb, shown above.

The style of the church is Perpendicular Gothic, with the Golden Chapel added 100 years later as an extension in 1510.  It is possible that the arcading in the south side of the nave dated to an earlier, perhaps 13th century church, because the style is different, and could have been incorporated into the new church.  Quite unusually, there are no projecting transepts, so the footprint of the church is not cruciform.  An original porch projects from the nave, whilst on the opposite side a large vestry projects from the chancel.  The rest of the church and its history will be discussed on a future post.

Misericords are “mercy seats,” first employed in monastic establishments, and carved onto the underside of hinged seats in choir stalls.  When the seat is down, it can be sat on as normal, but when leaning up against the back of the choir stall it has a little protrusion on which a monk or nun could prop themselves during some of the long daily offices that were typical of monastic and collegiate life.  Many of these feature elaborate carved decoration.  The earliest ones in Britain were carved in monasteries in the 13th century, and later on they found their way into collegiate establishments, cathedrals and, later still, parish churches.  Whether in monastery, cathedral or church, they could include a variety of subjects, religious, classical, pagan, chivalric and naturalistic.  You can read much more about them on my introductory post on the subject here and my round-up post here, looking at who might have been responsible for the themes chosen, who may have paid for the misericords, why they were contained within the most sacred part of the church and how they might be understood.
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The misericords at St Bartholomew’s, Tong

The stone elements of the St Bartholomew’s choir, including the piscina (shallow basin used for cleaning communion and other vessels) in the sanctuary or chancel and sedilia (stone seat), also in the sanctuary all date to between 1410 and 1430.  The oak choir stalls would have been inserted only after the stonework had been completed, probably towards the end of the 1420s.

There are two sets of L-shaped eight choir stalls, facing each other with the entrance to the choir separating them.  Originally each would have had a misericord and today there is only apparently one missing, with no subsequent replacements, with only some slight restoration work carried out.  There are also with three-light traceried back panels, carved frieze, and desks, as well as carved bench ends, desk ends and carved poppy-heads, all dating to the early 15th century.  The published guide to St Bartholomew’s adds that one of the bench-ends seems to be a much simpler and less skilled example, and was probably a later replacement for one that was damaged.

Most of the misericords are botanical, but there are other themes, some of them natural and some of them apparently pagan, such as the face above.  Pagan faces, or grotesques, are not unusual, but although they are often difficult to interpret. Two show winged angels, one apparently in armour holding a shield, the other holding a book or coat of arms, and another apparently depicts a castle.  These may be references to the family who built the church.  Sir Fulke de Pembrugge, for example, was a crusader, and the family lived in the nearby castle.

 

It is sod’s law that the last of the misericords shown above is the one most discussed in books and is the one that I took three attempts to photograph and still came out dismally.  This is the only one that represents a specific scene: the New Testament story of the Annunciation.  In the middle is a lily growing in a vessel with two blooms and, at its centre, Christ on the cross. This arrangement is flanked on one side by the Angel Gabriel and on the other by the Virgin Mary, each of whom hold pieces of a scroll that records the Angel’s greeting and Mary’s reply.  The supporters may either represent doves of peace or the Holy Spirit.

 

Details of poppy heads (on the tops of bench ends and desk ends). Click to enlarge

There are numerous churches in the Midlands that could have provided the general idea for misericords at St Bartholomew’s.  For a list of misericords elsewhere in the Midlands see Misericords of Midlands Churches page on the misericords.co.uk website.  It is probable that many other misericords were lost when Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries.

===

Visiting

Check the St Bartholomew’s Church website for up-to-date opening hours and events that may close it to the public, but at the time of writing it is open daily, and in the summer months runs heritage tours that do not need to be booked in advance.  The church’s post code is TF11 8PW but Tong is almost impossible to miss, just seconds away from the A41 immediately before the M54 roundabout.

When there are no events, it is easy to park on the quiet road outside the church.

There is absolutely tons to see at the church, which is a feast for the eyes.  The 1515 Golden Chapel alone is a remarkable thing with its fan vaulting, but the many other early Tudor monuments are also spectacular.  See the church’s Heritage links on the above site to explore what it has to offer the visitor.  There is also a guide book that you can purchase at the church for £2.00 (cash into an honesty box), at the time of writing, which is great value with excellent photographs and good explanatory text, although it skims over the choir carvings.

If you want to make a day trip of it, nearby is the marvelous RAF Museum at Cosford, around 10 minutes away, and the the small but attractive White Ladies Augustinian Priory, also around 10 minutes away. 

 

Sources

See the end of Part 3 of my original series on misericords for sources on the general subject of medieval misericords.

The St Bartholemew’s misericords are referenced in the following works:

Books and papers

Anderson, M.D. 1954. Misericords. Medieval Life in English Woodcarving. Penguin Books

Anon, 2002. St Bartholomew’s Church, Tong, Shropshire. ISBN 1 872665 59 4.
(Almost no information about the misericords but some background information about the medieval church, to which the misericords date)

Grössinger, Christa. 2007.  The World Upside-Down. English Misericords.  Harvey Miller Publishers

Websites

St Bartholomew’s Church, Tong
https://tong-church.org.uk/
History (very top-level)
https://tong-church.org.uk/history/
Tong’s timeline
https://tong-church.org.uk/tong-parish/timeline/

Historic England
Church of St Bartholomew
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1053606?section=official-list-entry

The Medieval Bestiary
Excerpts from Francis Bond, Wood Carvings in English Churches: Misericords (pages 208-214). This text is believed to be in the public domain.  CHAPTER XVII: ON THE USE OF MISERICORDS – NOMENCLATURE
https://bestiary.ca/prisources/pstexts4837.htm

misericords.co.uk
Home page
https://misericords.co.uk/

 

 

Peterborough Cathedral (Overnight trip to Peterborough #1)

This is a slight departure for this blog, the usual premise of which is that every visit can be accomplished in a day, there and back, from where I live in Churton.  The visit to Peterborough required a stop overnight.  I have always wanted to see the Romanesque cathedral at Peterborough, which is a former Benedictine abbey.  I set out by car early on a Wednesday in November 2023 and stayed one night in Peterborough near the town centre, visiting the cathedral both on the Wednesday afternoon and again on the Thursday morning.  On my way home on Thursday afternoon I visited the lovely Normanton Church.  The routes taken and other visiting details are at the end.

Peterborough Cathedral is covered in part 1 (here) and a very brief snapshot of Normanton Church on its custom-made plinth on Rutland Water is in part 2. Needless to say, I have barely skimmed the surface of the cathedral’s history.

Introduction

South transept

Peterborough Cathedral is somewhere I have wanted to visit from the moment that I laid eyes on photos of it in a book. It has an almost split personality with its magnificent and unique 3-bay Gothic frontage, its sublime Norman-Romanesque interior, the stunning painted nave ceiling and the almost organic delicacy of the fan vaulting in the date eastern extension.

The abbey was terminated in Henry VIII’s dissolution of all the monasteries, but like Chester Cathedral was fortunate to escape some of the indignities of this process when it was converted to a cathedral. The building that visitors see today, dedicated to St Peter with St Paul and St Andrew, is the third abbey. The first abbey, Medeshamstede, was destroyed by Danish invaders.  The second abbey church, built over a century after the demolition of the first, burned down by accident although the cloisters survived.  The third abbey church was started from scratch, and is remarkable for the survival of the magnificent Romanesque vision.  All three abbeys were built on the same site, and there is some evidence for a Roman building beneath them.  The three phases are described very briefly below.   For detailed descriptions see one of the guide books available, or the cathedral website’s History page (details in Sources at the end).   If you go in person, I recommend the guided tour.

The 7th Century Abbey – Medeshamstede

Artist’s impression of Medhamstede, shown on an information poster in the cathedral

Bede’s 8th century Ecclesiastical History says that the first abbey on the site, Medehamstede, was established  in the 7th century, and it is now thought that it was founded in around 654, and was probably built of wood.  A later phase may have seen the rebuild of the wooden walls in stone, imported from a quarry to the west.  Very little is known about the building and its phases, although the artist’s impression to the right is a useful suggestion of what might have been on the site.  The first abbey was very isolated, deliberately divorced from human settlement to provide a suitable environment for contemplation and prayer.

The River Nene in Peterborough

Perched on the side of the River Nene and on the edge of the marshlands and mudflats of the Fens, it was an ideal location for peaceful contemplation and prayer.  For this and subsequent abbeys on the site the nearby marshy Fenlands provided one of the best resources for freshwater fish in England, offered a rich habitat for wildfowl and supported reed beds that provided the raw materials for thatching roofs.  The land also had the farming potential required for an expanding self-sufficient and isolationist community, providing summer pasture for livestock, and later on, when improved techniques of land drainage were mastered, the opportunity for agricultural development.  Communication links were provided by the River Nene and the nearby Roman road. 

The monastic community would have been organized along very austere lines adhering to the so-called Celtic tradition of monasticism.  The abbey became an important early religious centre, and founded a number of daughter houses in Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, Kent, Surrey, and Bermondsey (now in southeast London), which were important vanguards of the spread of Christianity.  I

The Hedda Stone

Housed today in the cathedral chancel / presbytery is the Hedda Stone shown above, a large and beautifully sculpted piece of limestone belonging to this period of the abbey’s history, showing Christ, Mary and the Apostles.  It is carved on both sides and pierced with holes that have no generally agreed purpose.  It is quite easy to miss, so do make a point of finding it, as it is delightful.

In 870 the abbey was plundered and destroyed during a Danish attack on the east coast, and the site, now abandoned, became part of the Danelaw territory.

The 10th Century Abbey – Gildenburgh

Plan of Saxon and Medieval Peterborough showing the outline of the second church. F is the site of the gate stormed by Hereward and the Danes. It is thought that E is the old marketplace, replaced by the new town in 1133-1155. The motte is thought today to have been built by Abbot Thorold. Source: Current Archaeology 89, 1983

In the 10th century, Æthelwold of Winchester had a vision of Christ in which he was instructed to rebuild the abbey of St Peter.  He was assisted in this challenge by Dunstan of Canterbury and by King Edgar and Queen Ælfthryth.  It was consecrated in the early 970s by Dunstan as a Benedictine monastery (i.e. one following the guidelines for monastic life developed in the 6th century by St Bendict of Nursia, Italy).  From fairly early on it was decided to provide it with a defensive wall, making it a fortified settlement or “burgh.”  The church was laid out along traditional lines with a nave, two transepts and a chancel at its east end.  It must have been provided with a belfry, because Æthelwold provided 10 bells for the church.  Although there were no sources of stone and wood close to the site, these were imported from Barnack and Rockingham Forest respectively. 

The prestige of the monastery rose when it acquired an important relic, the right arm of Oswald, a Saxon king and saint who was noted for his kindness to the poor and whose arm, with which he handed out so many alms, survived, perfectly preserved, after he was killed in battle.  The monastery’s position was again strengthened in 1041 when one of the monks, Æthelric, was chosen as Bishop of Durham.  The selection of the abbey as the final resting place for Ælfric Puttoc and subsequently Cynesige, both archbishops of York was an indication of how well regarded the abbey was in the 11th century.  Like many Benedictine monasteries, it became a major landowner, becoming wealthy and both economically and architecturally ambitious, accumulating books for a library, and fine objects for its ceremonies and liturgies.  It was so rich that it became known as the golden burgh, Gildenburgh.

Reconstruction of the abbey precinct at the time of Hereward’s attack. Source: Peterborough Abbey

The second abbey was still standing proud when William the Conqueror landed in England.  Its abbot, Leofric, died in the Battle of Hastings.  Abbot Brand, who followed him, was also Saxon and supported opposition to the Norman invasion. This opposition was punished with heavy taxation, and when Brand died in 1069 the abbey was put into the hands of an abbot, Thorold, loyal to William. In the event, a local Saxon rebel, Hereward, had found an ally in King Swein of Denmark, and in 1070 the Saxons and the Danes marched on Peterborough and plundered it.  Although the arm of St Oswald was saved by the prior (second in command) the rest of the treasure vanished with the rebels.  The abbey itself was badly damaged, and what survived was occupied by the abbot and sixty knights and significant portions of land that had once formed the basis of the abbey’s wealth was now allocated to many of those knights, filling the formerly rebellious countryside with loyal Normans.

When Thorold died in 1098 he was replaced by two successive abbots who had very little impact, but the third abbot to be appointed, in 1107, was Ernulf who was prior of Canterbury, a scholar with a good understanding of political manoeuvring, who had plenty of ambition for his new posting.  He began by rebuilding the damage to the cloister buildings that had been largely destroyed by Hereward. In 1114 Ernulf moved on to Rochester and was replaced by Abbot John de Séez.

In early August 1116 when a fire broke out in the bakery and took most of what remained of the abbey church with it, although Ernulf’s new claustral buildings survived beyond the abbey church.  A new church was now not only desirable but necessary.

Today’s abbey, established in the 12th Century

The Romanesque architecture

Plan of Peterborough Cathedral. Click to expand.  NB – the “sanctuary” is referred to in most of  the Peterborough Abbey literature as “presbytery” so I have stuck with the latter throughout. Source: Sweeting 1899, Project Gutenberg

Abbot John de Séez oversaw the construction of a stunning new Romanesque building, complete with a vast vaulted presbytery.  The scale of his ambition saddled the abbey with such an enormous financial and logistical commitment that it took 120 years to complete.  Masons who had worked at Durham were brought in to ensure that the most up to date civil engineering techniques were employed, and what unfolded was a mixture of magnificent vision and superb skills.  The church was laid out on the usual cross-shape, with a long nave, side transepts (containing chapels) and a shorter east end.  The south wall of the church (the righ thand side of the plan) made up the north wall of the cloisters, the administrative and domestic buildings were located, arranged around a square garden called the garth.

Entering the nave, the interior is light-filled and breathtaking. With windows on three levels, light pours in.   Cromwell’s soldiers destroyed the medieval stained glass, and the plain replacement glass allows in much more light than the stained glass would have permitted.  Of course it does help that the cathedral has installed artificial lighting, but even allowing for the changes, the layers of window and the soft, faintly reflective pallor of the Barnack limestone walls must have provided a degree of light that was remarkable in the Middle Ages.

View from just inside the west entrance to the end of the presbytery, with the pulpit in the foreground, and the modern rood (crucifix) hanging over the entrance to the Victorian choir

Because there is no surviving pulpitum (a stone division between nave and choir in monastic churches) or rood screen (again, between nave and choir), there is a very rare almost uninterrupted view from the west end entrance to the restored stained glass windows at the east end.  In spite of the 19th century marble edifice that sticks up in the middle of the presbytery, the impression of a vanishing point is dramatic and gives a real sense of the length of the building.  The walls soar upwards too, meeting a unique and fabulous painted ceiling.

On the death of Abbot John, the new Abbot Benedict, from Canterbury, persisted with the same vision.  This is interesting because at Canterbury new ideas from France, captured in the Gothic style, were being implemented, but for whatever long-lost reason, Benedict retained the Romanesque plan that Abbot John had initiated, including semi-circular apses at the east end, one of which survives within the rectangular “New Building” that surrounds it.  This apse is a rare survivor as most British churches had their apses removed for replacement by rectangular extensions such as Lady Chapels and similarly prestigious expansion projects.  Benedict extended the original design west by two bays, and if you stand at the west end and look at the arches of the aisles you can clearly see the difference.

Blind arcading in the north aisle beneath the great arches of the windows

The nave and the two transepts contain the bulk of the easily visible Romanesque architecture.  That within the east end presbytery is more difficult to view.  The long nave with its side aisles is monumental.  The massive arches of the aisles, with characteristic geometric decoration, are supported on vast octagonal piers.  They are topped with another set of arches, each of which contains twin arches separated by slender columns topped with square capitals.  The top level features rather smaller central arches, each flanked by even smaller blind arcades.  The transept ends are simpler, each with three levels of of arches, each of the same size, with unpainted roof panels in the same lozenge shapes as those in the nave.

 

The lost cloister and infirmary

Artist’s impression of the cloister on an information board in the remains of the abbey cloisters.

Today’s cathedral was once the abbey church, and is a wonderful survival, but it was only one part of the monastic establishment.  A cloister was always an integral part of the monastic establishment, with buildings along three sides of a courtyard or garden, with the church making up the fourth side.  This cloister was usually on the south side of the church, sheltering it from the worst weather and providing it with seasonal sun.  The central part of it was often a garden of some description, called the garth.  The buildings arranged along the three sides included the refectory, where the monks ate, the dormitory where they slept and the chapter house where they held daily meetings.  Some of these buildings could be very elaborate and ornate, particularly the chapter house.

If you leave through a door in the south side of the cathedral (on the right as you head from the entrance towards the end of the nave) or turn right in front of the cathedral and head down a narrow pathway, you will find yourself in what remains of the cloister.  There is some very fine stonework left behind, giving a hint at the magnificent buildings that once stood here, and many of the changes that the buildings clearly underwent.  The buildings were robbed for building materials following the Civil War.

Cloister wall, where it meets the abbey church

Beyond the cloister was the infirmary.  Many monastic establishments were furnished with an infirmary, mainly to take care of the elderly and unwell within the monastic community, but most of these are long gone, and again there is some attractive gothic arcading that indicates where the monastic ifirmary was located, to the east of the cloister.  It was built by Abbot John de Caux in around 1250.  It is worth mentioning, because it gives some idea of the scale of the monastic operation at Peterborough.

Relics

The 12th century Becket Casket (Height 29.5cm; Width 34.4cm; Depth 12.4cm). Source: V&A Museum

No important abbey was viable without relics of saints, which gave it great spiritual credibility, prestige and integrity.  Amongst the valuable relics collected were the arm of the Saxon saint Oswald of Northumbria. More prestigious by the 12th century were the bloodstained objects directly connected to the murder on 29th December 1170 of St Thomas Becket of Canterbury (the reliquary for which survives in the V&A museum).  A 12th century genuine British martyr, canonized in 1173, was a remarkable thing, and the snaffling of authenticated relics for Peterborough was a real coup.  Benedict did not witness the martyrdom, but he became an ardent collector and collator of Becket miracles. Becket had actually been to Peterborough, visiting with King Henry II in 1154.  A chapel was built to St Thomas at the abbey gate in 1174 to hold this and other relics, allowing pilgrims access to monastic relics without permitting them to disrupt the abbey church itself.

Painted walls and woodwork

Romanesque cathedrals in Europe often preserve painted decorative patterns on walls and ceilings, some emulating red mortar,  but only faint hints survive in Britain.  Fortunately, some very delicate paintwork in Peterborough survives.  As well as imitation mortar, and some lovely swirling curves, there is a truly charming section on the ceiling with tiny red flowers that may have been intended to evoke the Virgin Mary, who is often associated with red and white roses.

Within the apse, at the rear of the Presybytery, accessible from the New Building ambulatory,  there are coats of arms painted on the white walls.  Given that the eye is inevitably drawn first to the Hedda stone and the enormous marble high altar, it is easy not to notice the paintings.  I have been unable to find out anything about them either in the literature I have to hand or on the Peterborough Cathedral website, but they probably belonged to wealthy benefactors of the abbey or the later cathedral.

The chapels in the south transept were provided with wooden screens to provide access and entry, and provide privacy.  Remarkably, some of the decorative painting on these also survives.

The west front, the porch and the Lady Chapel

The Romanesque building did not escape the fashion for Gothic style embellishments.  Tracery in the window arches, for example, is Gothic, and the Romanesque interior was topped and tailed with a remarkable Early English west front and a stunning fan-vaulted rectangular ambulatory around the central semi-circular apse at the east end.

The unique 3-bay frontage was started in 1195 but progress was halted when King John, and England as a whole, were excommunicated from the Catholic church in 1209.  When the crisis was over, building resumed under Abbot Hugh, and it is thought that he made some changes the original design.  The result is three 29m high arches at the front, the central one narrower than the two flanking ones.  Inset into these are further arches.  Flanking the arche tops and and built into the triangular gables above were a total of 22 figures looking out from the front, although many have crumbled and have now replaced.  The three at the top of the gables are Saints Paul, Peter and Andrew.  The figure at the very top of the central gable is St Peter, overlooking the entrance, and marking the transition from the impure outdoor world to the heavenly space within.

Following the 13th century fashion for adding a Lady Chapel to a church, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, one was built at Peterborough 1272-1286 to the north of the presbytery, accessed from the north transept, and was still standing by the 17th century, when it was taken down during the Civil War. It was in the Gothic style and was probably elaborately decorated and furnished.

A later Gothic porch, dating to 1375, protrudes from the middle of the west front.  I was inclined to be more than a little judgmental about the porch, which looked like a very misguided vanity project, but I stand corrected.  It was found that the central arch of the west front was beginning to tip forward, and the engineering solution was to create a wedge to prop it up.  The structurally necessary wedge was designed as a Gothic style galilee porch with perpendicular windows, and although it breaks up the magnificent frontage, has done a great job of preventing its collapse.

The 15th century “New Building”

The so-called “New Building,” a sublime gothic vision, is in fact an eastward extension of the Romanesque cathedral.  The New Building was probably built between 1496 and 1508  by star architect John Wastell of Bury St Edmunds (later responsible for the fan vaulting at Westminster Abbe, under the abbey’s superior, Abbot Robert Kirkton.  This was no mere add-on, but a fabulously imagined and beautifully crafted piece of fan-vaulted delight.  The abbot who took the gamble of gluing on an extension to a perfectly conceived Romanesque delight lived up to the legacy of his predecessors.  The ceiling bosses, some of which are shown in the above photograph, were carved with both secular and religious themes showing coats of arms, symbols of the saints, and other familiar subjects.  The job of the extension was to enclose the central semi-circular apse within a rectangular extension, providing a low-level ambulatory around the inner sanctum, which rises above it, for ceremonial processions.  Ambulatories often contain additional chapels, but the cathedral’s architecture remains largely uninterrupted and therefore retains the impact of the fabulous fan-vaulting, which is one of the largest examples in England.

Ceiling boss showing the instruments of the passion

The New Building also, of course, delivered some fairly glossy feathers to the cap of the abbot who was so pleased with himself that he incorporated his name, a partial rebus, into the building itself.  Abbot Robert Kirkton was not a self-effacing man – his initials are also conspicuous in the elaborate Prior’s Gate that he built and which celebrated key royal figures in the form of their heraldry, and ornamented with Marian roses, managing to be both obsequious and self-congratulatory.

Prior’s Gate by Abbot Kirkham

The unique 13th century painted ceiling

Magnificent painted ceiling of the nave

Deserving a post in its own right, the wooden ceiling is a marvel.  Unique, it was started in around 1238 and was finsihed sometime in the 1240s.  It is made up of a series of lozenge-shaped panels, which one painted either with a small scene or with leaf and floral motifs.  The repeating pattern of the lozenges is dramatic from below.  Interpretation of the scenes has established that the individual subjects are arranged into a series of core themes, but there is much that it still unclear.  Obvioulsy religious scenes like the Creation, The Lamb of God, Saints Peter and Paul and the Anti-Christ are accompanied by historical clerics and kings, music, astronomy and the liberal arts. A scene showing a money riding backwards on a galloping goat whilst holding an owl is a representation of folly.  John Foyles  dedicates several pages to the ceiling in his book and there is a book about it by Jackie Hall and Susan Wright for those who want to delve deeper (see sources at the end).

Unpainted wooden ceilings over the apses are also arranged in lozenges, and are very fine in their own right.

Lozenge-shaped framed painting on the ceiling of the nave., showing St Paul holding a sword in his right hand and a book in his left (panel C7). The sword evokes the means of his martyrdom (beheading) and the book represents his epistles.

The Tudors before the Dissolution

The main contribution of the Tudors to the cathedral are the tombs of Katherine of Aragon, who died in 1536 and Mary Queen of Scots in 1587.

Katharine of Aragon had been married to the heir to the English throne, Arthur, elder brother of the future Henry VIII.  When Arthur died, Henry VIII married his widowed sister-in-law.  When the marriage failed to produce the necessary male heir, Henry decided to annul the marriage.  Unable to obtain papal permission to do so, he split from the papacy and established the Church of England.  Katherine was shuffled off to Kimbolton Castle, where Henry hoped that if she was out of sight of the public, she would also be out of mind.  When she died she provided, on Henry’s orders, with a tomb in Peterborough Abbey, the nearest important ecclesiastical building to Kimbolton.  Here she was identified as the widow of Henry’s  brother Arthur.  This was presumably Henry’s excuse for not granting her a place in Westminster Abbey.  Deposited under the floor up against the south side of the presbytery, where she would be close to God, she was provided with a monument above the grave.  This was destroyed in the Civil War, but the grave beneath remains in situ, marked by a stone slab and gold lettering. 

The Dissolution

The opening page of the Valor Ecclesiasticus (the survey of monastic establishments that paved the way to the Dissolution), showing Henry VIII. Source: Wikipedia

The New Building had only just been finished in the first years of the 1500s when Henry VIII fell out with the Catholic papacy.  Henry, having found a way to both dissolve a marriage that produced a daughter but no male heir to his throne, and simultaneously remove papal authority over both his personal affairs and the management of the church, also found that being the head of his own Church of England enabled him to raise substantial funds by laying claim to all the properties and goods of the monasteries, priories and friaries, by simply denying their ongoing right to exist.   The Dissolution caught up with Peterborough abbey in 1539, which had survived the first round of closures that took place in 1536.  The abbot at the time was John Chambers, and he was unusually fortunate.  He took no part in the protests in Lincoln or the Pilgrimage of Grace, and although initially pensioned off his meek resignation to the inevitable was rewarded.  Whether it was because of the creation of new dioceses at this time, or because Henry VIII’s first wife Katherine of Aragon was buried here in 1536, the abbey escaped demolition and was converted instead to a cathedral in 1541 with John Chambers as its first bishop.  Of all the 100s of abbeys, priories and friaries that were dissolved by Henry VIII, only a handful were converted to cathedrals, of which Chester Cathedral is another example.

Fifty years later Peterborough was again the royal choice of burial place for an embarrassing queen.  Executed in 1587, Mary Queen of Scots was buried on the opposite side of the presbytery from Queen Katharine.  She remained there for 25 years until her son, James I, removed her remains to Westminster Abbey

The Civil War

Peterborough, from Speed’s 1610 map, shortly before the Civil War. Source: Sweeting 1899, Project Gutenberg

During the English Civil War of 22 August 1642 – 3 September 1651, each side attempted to use the medieval castles to gain advantage.  The result was that many 13th century castles were slighted (demolished) to prevent re-use at the end of the Civil War.  Castles were fair game, but religious institutions were also targeted because they represented a different threat – the challenge to Puritan religious belief.  Henry VIII had rejected Catholic authority, but his Church of England was established for convenience, and the Church of England contained many lingering aspects of its Catholic ancestry.  Oliver Cromwell’s soldiers were given free reign to obliterate any of the artistic signs of lingering tendencies to papism to force through reform.  What they could reach they either maimed or destroyed.  What they could not reach they sometimes hit with musket fire.

One of three surviving misericords at Peterborough Cathedral

At Peterborough, as in so many places, the medieval stained glass was demolished.  Some of the stained glass windows at the east end today was formed of the fragments that people picked up and saved after the Puritans had left.  The painted ceiling over the east end apse was shot with muskets, but somehow the ceiling over the nave was missed.  The choir stalls, together with the misericords (the so-called mercy seats once in the choir stalls, all of which were carved with fascinating scenes on their undersides) were also destroyed at this time.  Only three of the misericords survive (at Chester there are 48 misericords, which gives some idea of the level of destruction at Peterborough).  The survivors are preserved in a chapel on the south side of the nave near the entrance, a sad reminder that something quite spectacular has been lost.  The high altar was also destroyed.  The cloister buildings were used as the raw materials for nearby Thorpe Hall.

The 17th and 18th centuries

This sub-heading would normally be an exercise in naming and shaming, but, amazingly, the abbey has not suffered the usual indignities of an important ecclesiastical building during this period.  There are no 17th and 18th century monuments jostling for position on the walls to undermine the sense of coherence and uniform splendour.  The soaring nave in Westminster Abbey, utterly spoiled by truly awful funerary memorials, is a good example of how badly a beautiful building can be dramatically undermined by later insensitivities. Although some of the monuments in Peterborough Cathedral were damaged during the Reformation, there seem to have been restrictions on the number permitted.

The biggest surviving monument is baroque, dedicated to wool merchant Thomas Deacon, former high sheriff of Northamptonshire and founder of a charity school for 20 boys.  He died in 1730.  His wife, who died 10 years later, is also commemorated on the monument.  I would much rather that it had not been built in the cathedral, at the entrance to the New Building, because it is such an alien presence, but it is a particularly fine example of its type.

The Victorians

Two of the most active restorers of the Victorian period were Sir George Gilbert Scott and John L. Pearson.  Unfortunately, although their ideas of restoration included the valuable rescue and repair of serious damage and decay, it also involved what they clearly thought of as improvements to the original vision of earlier architects and artists.  Enthusiasts of Chester Cathedral and Valle Crucis Abbey in Llangollen will probably have Gilbert Scott’s name ringing in their ears.

The crossing

In the late 1800s the tower was on the verge of collapse and it was Pearson who was responsible for dismantling and rebuilding it, a massive undertaking that saved the cathedral from irreparable harm.  His work altered the 14th century tower but was done to blend in with the existing architecture.  The twin sets of choir stalls, to the east of where the originals were located, the cathedra (bishop’s throne) and the pulpit are also Pearson’s work, and although clearly not medieval, are a skilled emulation of a medieval style quire.  Pearson’s, however, was the evil genius that created the temple-like marble high altar within the presbytery as well as the cosmati floor leading up to it.

Cosmati floor

Gilbert Scott was responsible for the painted ceiling over the apse, which he claimed at the time was based on the damaged example that he was replacing.  It is unmistakeably Victorian in its rendition and colouring.

Gilbert Scott’s ceiling in the apse

In this period the circular cast iron Gurney stoves were added, manufactured by The London Warming and Ventilating Company who bought the patent registered in 1856 by Goldsworth Gurney, surgeon turned engineer.  The stove looks like the filter in my wet-and-dry vacuum cleaner, with ribs standing out from a central cylinder, distributing heat in a full circle.  It was fired by anthracite, and the entire thing sat in a trough of water, helping to add humidity to the air.  Peterborough cathedral retains several of them, and they are in many other cathedrals too.  The Peterborough ones are powered by either as or oil, and they do a stunning job.

Modern additions

There has been some restoration work in the last few decades, but the emphasis has generally been on preservation rather than modernization. For example, many of the badly decaying figures on the west front were replaced by Alan Durst between 1949 and 1975.

A particularly noticeable modern addition is a hanging rood – a red crucifix with Christ in gold affixed to it, suspended from the ceiling at the east end of the nave, added in 1975. This hangs above the line that the rood screen would have taken across the nave.  Up against the south side of the presbytery some very fine gold lettering, was put in place to mark the burial place of Mary Queen of Scots, which works well.  In the New Building, someone has seen fit to place framed photographs on the walls between the fan-vaulting columns, which really doesn’t do the architecture any favours.  The entrance to the west end has automated glass doors, which add to the light, and there is of course the inevitable gift shop on your left as you enter.  Outside, Thomas Becket’s chapel is now a tea room.

Final Comments

The Romanesque is so comparatively rare in Britain, that this stunningly coherent and unfettered example is a particularly amazing treat.    When the decision was made to extend the east end in a contrasting style, the slender, delicate columns and fan-vaulting of the New Building provided contrasting but additional brilliance. Moving through the building from the Norman to gothic gives the sense of being in an ecclesiastical time machine, a transition from one perfect world to another.

There is so much more to be said about the abbey and its features, inside and out, so much that has been missed out here.  If you decide to visit, you won’t be disappointed.


Visiting

View from the choir to the east end

I am accustomed to driving to southeast London, so rather than looking at other options I took was my usual route, zipping down the A41, the M54, the M6 and the A14.  From the A14 the A605 goes straight to Peterborough and I was there, end to end with no delays, in just over three hours.  The A41 is always the joker in the pack because it is a long way from Chester to the M54, there are very few sections of dual carriageway and it can be difficult to overtake if you find yourself behind something slow.  The A5 to Shrewsbury and the M54 is sometimes quicker.

The cathedral opening times are on the website, where any special events and closures are shown.  Although I had done some top-level background reading I was lucky enough to arrive half an hour before a Highlights Tour was due to start, so I had a wander around on my own and then returned to the entrance for the tour.  I failed to get my guide’s name, which is particularly sad as I had her to myself, November being a quiet time of year, and we had a great chat.  She was splendidly knowledgable, encouraged my stream of questions and added multiple layers of detail and interpretation to my visit.

There was full-on white frost resembling snow over the days that I visited, and it was exceedingly cold, but thanks to the deployment of multiple Gurney stoves in the cathedral (fabulous heat-generating monsters like the ones in Chester Cathedral), I actually had to take off my top layer.  It is the first cathedral I’ve ever visited that actually felt cosy!

For those who are dealing with unwilling legs, Peterborough as a whole is on the flat.  The cathedral has very few steps to negotiate, automated doors provide access to the cathedral, a ramp is provided to get into the chancel from the New Building to visit the Hedda stone, and there are a great many places to sit down even beyond the nave.

I returned home via Normanton Church (see my short post with photos), for no better reason than it looked pretty and I do love a well-proportioned Georgian church, so my return journey was different, following the A606 to Melton Mowbray (I didn’t stop but it looks interesting), the A6006 and the A50 to Stoke on Trent and Nantwich, and the A534 home.  Thanks to a convoy of lorries on the A6006 it was slow going but it was a spectacularly beautiful day and the unfamiliar landscape showed to terrific advantage in the sunshine.  The A50 is dual carriageway, very unlovely but a smooth run.  The drive from Peterborough to Churton, via Normanton Church, took me just over four hours (not including the time wandering around at Normanton).

Sources

Books and papers

Pair of figures believed to be Roman, possibly late 2nd century. In the west wall of the south transept

Biddick, Kathleen. 1992. The Other Economy: Pastoral Husbandry on a Medieval Estate. University of California Press

Foyle, Jonathan. 2018. Peterborough Cathedral. A Glimpse of Heaven. Scala

Higham, Jack (Revd. Canon). 2001. Peterborough Cathedral. The Pitkin Guide.  Pitkin

Selkirk, Andrew and Selkirk, Wendy 1983. Peterborough. Current Archaeology, no.89, vol.VIII, October 1983, p.182-183

Sweeting, W.D. (Revd.) 1899 (second edition). The Cathedral Church of Peterborough. A Description of its fabric and a Brief History of the Episcopal See.  G. Bell and Sons Ltd.
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/13618/13618-h/13618-h.htm

Book about the nave’s painted ceiling (which I have not read, but is listed here for those who would like to find out more)
Jackie Hall and Susan Wright (eds.) 2015. Conservation & Discovery: Peterborough Cathedral Nave Ceiling and Related Structures. MOLA———

Websites

Peterborough Cathedral website
https://www.peterborough-cathedral.org.uk/
Visiting: https://www.peterborough-cathedral.org.uk/home/visiting.aspx
History: https://www.peterborough-cathedral.org.uk/history.aspx
The painted nave ceiling: https://peterborougharchaeology.org/peterborough-cathedral-nave-ceiling/
Abbot Benedict: https://peterboroughcathedral.wordpress.com/tag/abbot-benedict/
Katherine of Aragon: https://www.peterborough-cathedral.org.uk/home/katharine-of-aragon.aspx

National Character Area Profile: 46. The Fenlands
Natural England
https://publications.naturalengland.org.uk/file/5742315148673024

Books by Abbot Benedict of Peterborough available online
https://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/webbin/book/lookupname?key=Benedict%2C%20Abbot%20of%20Peterborough%2C%20%2D1193

Antarctic Heritage Trust
The Gurney Stove in Antarctica
https://nzaht.org/gurneystove/

 

Part 3: Misericords in the Chester-Wrexham area – Miracles, myths, demons, and the occasional grin

Creature wheeling two women in a barrow towards a hellmouth. All Saints’s Gresford

Apologies that it has taken a couple of weeks for part 3 to appear.  The subject is so massive and it seems impossible to do it justice in a blog post but eventually that big, accusing Publish button just has to be clicked 🙂

Part 1 introduced misericords and described some of the themes captured in the choir of St Werburgh’s Abbey (Chester Cathedral).  Part 2 described the misericords at Gresford, Malpas and Bebington.  This 3rd and final part addresses who might have been responsible for the themes chosen, who may have paid for the misericords, why they were contained within the most sacred part of the church and how they might be understood.  Finally I have added some visiting details for the cathedral and the three churchs, plus a list of references for all three parts.

Selecting the misericords

How were the topics selected and by whom; who carved them; and who paid for them?

How themes were selected

Scene showing in both the main scene and the supporters St Werburgh’s miracles. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

Each misericord showed a different subject matter, and whether there were 48 (as at Chester) or 14 (as at Gresford) there could be great diversity in the themes selected.  The patron saint of an abbey or church might dictate the subject matter in a single misericord, like the miracle of St Werburgh at Chester, but this accounts for only one misericord of any one corpus.  Some themes are commonly found throughout misericord collections and are evidently part of a popular repertoire or corpus of themes.  As Anderson says in his survey of gothic art, “The subjects of misericords did not have to be consistent, so any good design, from whatever source it came from, could be used on them,” but particular themes and ideas were probably favoured in each different establishment, leading to a different character and ambience from one set to another.  The enthusiasm for certain themes will have changed over time, reflecting both popular and intellectual fashions, but all were chosen from similar types of source material.

Folio 49v from the Smithfield Decretal showing a fox, with mitre and crozier, preaching to a flock of birds. Source: British Library

Manuscripts were an obvious source of ideas.  Bestiaries such as the beautiful MS Bodley 764, referred to in parts 1 and 2, provided a wealth of ideas, as did travelogues. Both Old and New Testaments, missals and hagiographies (biographies of saints, often at least partly fictional) were also alternative sources.  The Golden Legend by Jacobus de Voragine in the 13th century was a particularly popular account of the lives of saints, which even today is a good read.  The marginal scenes shown on various religious illuminated manuscripts including psalters (books of psalms) and books have hours (personal books for private worship) probably supplied others, which included so-called drolleries and grotesques.  The Luttrel Psalter and the Smithfield Decretals are good examples.  Contemporary chivalric romances, popular narratives and collections of stories like the 14th century French Cy Nous Dit (which contained versions of the tales of Tristan and Isolde, Alexander carried over the edge and the exploitsof the knight Yvain – all of which are at Chester) were good sources of stories with a moral thread. Towards the end of the Middle Ages it has been demonstrated that some themes were inspired by woodcut images that were circulating in Europe following the success of the printing press in the mid-15th century.

Image and supporters copied from earlier examples. The model for the central image was first carved at Lincoln in the 1370s (top), then reproduced with much more gusto and exuberance at St Werburgh’s Chester in the 1380s (middle) and finally, with much less energy than either, at St Mary’s Nantwich in the 1390s (bottom). All sourced from Christina Grössinger, The World Upside-Down, p.47 (see Sources at end)

Carvers almost certainly brought ideas with them from other abbeys, cathedrals and churches, which they could share with their new employers.  Some topics are clearly copied from one ecclesiastical establishment to another, probably introduced by carvers who moved to new building projects as they became available.  Sixteen designs in Chester were based on those from Lincoln, and six in the the impressive parish of St Mary’s church in Nantwich, were copied from Chester.  The herons on a misericord in St Werburgh’s, for example, were very nearly clones of a misericord at Lincoln Cathedral, although the supporters are different.  An even more striking example is a crowned head with wild hair and beard, flanked by two heads in profile. This appears first in Lincoln Cathedral, then at St Werburgh’s Abbey in Chester.

Although St Werburgh’s may have been expected, by virtue of its proximity, to have provided the inspiration and basic model for the later examples at Gresford, Malpas and Bebington, none of the misericords are copies of surviving Chester examples.  There are indeed shared themes, but there are no attempts at replication.  This suggests that in each case the choices made drew on other sources for their ideas, perhaps reflecting the time gap between the Chester and later misericords, or otherwise reflecting local choices or preferences.

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Who would have been involved in the choice of themes?

Abbot with staff and book. MS. Ludwig IX 6 (83.ML.102), fol. 222v. Source: Getty Museum

It is not known exactly how the topics depicted on individual misericords were chosen, but there are a number of possibilities.  At an abbey or independent priory, the superior (abbot or prior) and the senior personnel may have dominated the decisions, but individual monks from the larger monastic community may have contributed to the selection process too.  External patrons, whose financial input would have been necessary for a project on the scale of the Chester quire are likely to have wanted to contribute to their own favoured themes.  In a parish church both the senior clergy and the bishop would probably have dominated the decision process, but external, private financial contributors such as local landowners may also have had a vested interest in the selection of themes.  Multiple sources of finance, each perhaps buying a vote in the selection process, would help to explain the diversity of the subject matters chosen both within a single choir, and the differences from one church to another.

It is sometimes suggested that misericords were the brainchildren of the craftsmen who carved them, indulging themselves with creative and sometimes (to the Victorian mind) off-colour designs without any direct input from the clergy.  Being confined to the choir in the most sacred part of the church, however, it seems unlikely that anything could have been selected and installed without the permission of a head cleric, such as the abbot in the abbey, or a parish priest (or his bishop) in a church.  It also seems implausible that an abbot or bishop would sit back and allow expenditure to be used unchecked on fantastic frivolities that would have to be accounted for to both superiors and inferiors alike.  Although carvers probably suggested certain popular themes based on their own experience, the misericords and their themes must have been sanctioned at the highest levels.

Who carved the misericords?

Stained glass portrait, thought to be Master Carpenter Hugh Herland. Source: Upchurch Matters

Remarkably little is known about the wood carvers who created these remarkable vignettes.  For prestigious projects carvers seem to have moved from building to building.  Christina Grössinger identifies a single London workshop as having been responsible not only for the Chester and Lincoln wood-carvings, but also for those that at St Katherine’s in Stepney (London) and the former Carmelite friary in Coventry.  John Harvey had formerly identified the hand of famous Master Carpenter Hugh Herland, who worked on a number of royal and prestigious college projects in the 14th century, at Lincoln and particularly Chester, but Grössinger rejects this suggestion, and a quick look at Herland’s list of responsibilities for the decades in which the Lincoln and Chester misericords were made (1370s and 1380s respectively), suggests that he was probably far too busy on prestigious works elsewhere to oversee these two projects as well.  Present in Chester between 1377 and 1411, however, was William Newell the king’s chief carpenter who was probably involved with the work on the choir, at the very least in an advisory capacity.  For a Benedictine monastery like St Werburgh’s it was important not merely to raise the status of the individual abbey, but to contribute to the prestige of the Benedictine order as a whole, particularly in a period when monastic orders were becoming much less influential in society and politics.  Whoever was responsible for overseeing the project, many carpenters will have contributed to the misericords and canopies, and both the designs and the work are certainly exquisite.

St Andrew’s, Bebington

The preference for the most prestigious carvers available in the country suggests that where prestige was important and the finance available, only the best carvers would do and could be hired from places at considerable distance from the institution concerned.  The impressive churches of Malpas, Gresford and Bebington would not have had the same scale of financial resources, nor the same ambitions for national prestige reached for by the abbot Chester abbey, but quality was still important.  Carvers were more likely to have been sourced closer to home, but even so the skills required may still have required importing specialists to oversee and ensure high quality. In his paper on the carvers of the Oxford colleges, Gee says that during the 14th century the pay for a Master Carpenter, was around 4d monthly.  For a nationally recognized and prestigious Master Carpenter of whom the above-mentioned Herland is an example, this rose to around 1s. There was therefore a wide scale of pay for different levels of skill and creativity.  work.

Who paid for them?

Canopies above the choir stalls in Chester Cathedral

Elaborate choir stalls with misericords were luxury items for a church, raising the prestige of the incumbent clergy and the establishment as a whole either nationally for an abbey or cathedral, or regionally for a collegiate or parish church.  They were, in functional terms, unnecessary but for some monasteries and churches, the investment may have been important for institutional and social reasons, reinforcing the position of the church in the wider community at a time when ecclesiastical influence was in decline.  Status and vanity projects always come with a substantial bottom line, and the funds would have been acquired from a number of different income streams and one-off sources.

A monastic establishment like St Werburgh’s might have any number of income streams. The Benedictines, the longest established monastic order of the Catholic tradition in Britain, had been endowed with enormous estates and resources.  Monasteries were amongst Britain’s greatest landowners, owning huge swathes of the rural landscape.  This level of royal and significant magnate  investment had trailed off by the early 1300s, so monastic establishments were forced to make the most of the property they already owned and attempt to secure smaller but still significant bequests and investments, and one-off donations for special projects.  Ongoing sources of funding included tithes (funds appropriated from churches that it adopted), the often impressive output of produce sold from a network of monastic farms, private bequests in wills, and contributions by living benefactors.  Appropriating churches, and securing their income, was increasingly important throughout the later medieval period.  Chantries were also an excellent source of income for urban monasteries.  These were financial foundations set up by individuals to pay for an ordained monk, or several monks, to recite multiple prayers for himself/herself after death, as well as for his or her family and ancestors;  These were invaluable income-generators for monasteries.  Pilgrim shrines could also be very lucrative for monasteries with appropriate relics, particularly if they were reputed to perform miracles.

Probable burial places of some of  the medieval abbots in the cloister at St Werburgh’s, Chester

The abbot and monks themselves, might contribute to prestigious projects.  Although the earliest Benedictine monastic orders had been based on vows of poverty, and the reforming orders of the late 11th and early 12th centuries renewed these vows and intentions, by the late 14th century the Benedictine monks had lost their ambition for poverty, and were  rarely self-effacing.  Although it was a particular thorn in the side of Henry V in the early 15th century, abbots and their monks might well be considerably wealthy in their own right.  This was in spite of St Benedict’s proscription against the ownership of private property in the Rule on which the Benedictines were supposed to base their monastic lives.  An abbot’s subordinates too might have access to personal wealth. To ensure his own personal legacy an abbot of an important urban monastery might invest in a prestigious project that, in the case of St Werburgh’s included not only the choir stalls but the elaborate and intricate canopies above.  The abbot would probably be able to secure contributions from his community of brethren as well, and would certainly attempt to secure donations from beyond the cloister.  For those both within the community and those outside it, there was the hope that by contributing their mite to the glorification of God, they might serve less time paying for their sins in purgatory.  Even where in-house monastic funding was available, the gifts of patronage might be important to  elaborate monastic improvement, and for a project as immense as the St Werburgh’s quire, significant investment would have been welcome.

In an urban environment although there might be additional opportunities for securing funds, there might be competition with other establishments.  For example, St Werburgh’s charged for burials within its cemetery, and was in competition with other ecclesiastical establishments in Chester to secure those payments.  However, there was a particular prestige to being buried in a monastic context, and more importantly the possibility of being as close as possible to the divine.  Any wealthy Chester resident who wanted to be buried within the of the abbey precinct, and particularly the abbey church itself, would have to pay a very steep price for the privilege.

Elaborate and costly wood carving on the screen at the entrance to the choir at All Saints’ Gresford.

Perhaps more intriguing are the sources of the investment for the three parish churches.  These might also include tithes, which were a type of tax due from every household to fund the parish church (in the form of produce for much of the Middle Ages), if there was any surplus remaining after the clergy had been paid and church costs defrayed.  Another form of income were chantries that were set up in parish churches as well as monasteries, particularly the more prestigious parish churches.  These too might provide an income from which a surplus could be saved for special projects.  A more promising source of sufficient funds for a  was likely to be bequests and donations made by a number of particularly wealthy benefactors and patrons, either individuals, families or organizations.  For parish, collegiate and cathedral churches crowd-funding by the congregation might have been a possibility. Although most of the congregation was excluded from the chancel, (within which the choir was located), Nicholas Orme makes it clear that wealthy and influential parishioners, as well as choristers, might be given access.  These more privileged members of the congregation would have access to any work within the chancel to which they contributed either large one-off gifts or piecemeal funding, even if they were not primary benefactors or members of founding families.  It is also possible that access to the chancel was an incentive for anyone who had the money to invest in ecclesiastical projects.  Access to the chancel, and burial within its confines, were highly desirable as this was the closest that most people would come to the divine prior to death.  If the parish priest was independently wealthy, he too much contribute to the costs, as might the bishop.

Little of the abbey church survives at Basingwerk

A different possibility is the purchase, wholesale or piecemeal, of the misericords from another building.  If an abbey or priory church went out of use, a set of choir-stalls might become available for purchase at a fraction of the price of commissioning a new set from scratch.  A parish church with wealth of its own, or with patrons who wished to make a mark, might benefit from the unexpected windfall.  The Dissolution of the Monasteries under the reign of Henry VIII from 1535 to around 1540 liberated many church furnishings for purchase by less exalted establishments.  In Lancashire, for example, choir stalls from Whalley Abbey found their way into a local parish church, whilst in Lancaster itself the misericords may have come from a nearby Premonstratensian establishment.  There has been a suggestion that the Gresford misericords might have been sourced from Basingwerk Abbey at Holywell following its 1535/1536 dissolution.  However, the impressive Monastic Wales research portal states that the choir stalls from Basingwerk actually went to St Mary’s on the Hill in Chester, presumably complete with misericords, a claim echoed in the ChesterWiki page for the church (but unsupported by any citation) as part of a general refurbishment. I have not seen the original sources and their arguments for either proposal.  If the stalls were once at St Mary’s on the Hill they are not there now.  Gresford All Saints’ seems, anyway, to have had both the ambition and the funds if it wished to comission its own choir stalls during the 15th century when the church was substantially remodelled.
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The role of misericords

A sense of meaning

All Saints’, Gresford

In spite of the genuinely fascinating and academically impressive work carried out on the subject, there are no definitive answers about how a corpus of misericords is best understood.  There is so much variety and as Gombrich observes, for some of these images “[t]here are no names in our language, or categories in our thought, to come to grips with this elusive dream-imagery in which ‘all things are mixed’. . .  It outrages both our ‘sense of order’ and our search for meaning.”  The overtly religious themes on some misericords are accompanied by far less obviously appropriate scenes including on the one hand horror, myth, fantasy and the monstrous and, on the other hand, humour, farce, ribaldry, Colish’s “red thread” of satire and, perhaps, some very early forerunners of schadenfreude and even burlesque.  Misericords are one of the few ecclesiastical contexts in which the lower echelons of society can be observed. The acrobats at Gresford have already been mentioned in Part 2, and entertainers and sports of various sorts are common.

St Werburgh’s Abbey, Chester

In spite of the difficulties it is irresistible to try to address some of the questions.  For example, why was highly irreligious imagery, some of it very funny, included in the most sacred of ecclesiastical spaces? Why were naked human private parts, women beating men, foxes lecturing geese, upright cats, writhing dragons, strange beasts, wildmen and ugly monsters shown side by side with, on the one hand, lowly peasants and jesters and, on the other hand, saints, angels, kings and heraldic symbols of the nobility?

Whilst parts 1 and 2 demonstrated how individual misericords can successfully communicate certain stories and convey specific ideas, an entire corpus of misericords is rather more interesting as a sum of the various parts, presumably containing somewhere within it the religious, ideological and cultural motivations, the very heart of why these carvings existed in the first place.

A framework for living

Alchemic approach to four humours in relation to the four elements and zodiacal signs. Book illustration in “Quinta Essentia” by Leonhart Thurneisser zum Thurn (gen. Leonhard Thurneysser). Source: Wikipedia

From today’s perspective, the world of the Middle Ages encompassed a very different set of experiences, and this has to be factored into any attempt to understand medieval imagery.  These many challenges of the Middle Ages were understood within a descriptive and explanatory framework that helped to give a sense of order.  As well as the overarching structure provided by Christianity, there was a framework for neatly organizing existence into manageable chunks.  The natural world was divided into four primary elements: air, fire, earth and water, with air opposite earth and water opposite fire.  The human body was divided into four “humours,” and the human condition was divided into four “states.”  All were characterized in terms of heat and moisture, and were influenced by both the four seasons and the 12 astrological points of the zodiac.  In Christian terms, the presence of the devil and his demons, the reality of purgatory and hell, and even the performance of saintly miracles were all aspects of a world that for most people, were a reality in which the supernatural was entwined with the everyday.  Structuring the world in this complex way formed a model for understanding it and operating within it.

There were also less structured but equally useful mechanisms for coping with a life in which more nebulous anxieties and worries did not fit neatly within the conventional framework.  The supernatural had its own role, which did not always dovetail smoothly with other explanatory models.  Superstition, the rumblings of magic and divination and the presence of evil in the dark corners of the supernatural all had a role to play.

The realities of medieval life

The central theme of this misericord is a two-bodied monster with a single head. The supporters are also monsters, their tails connecting them to the misericord.

Everyday life in the later Middle Ages, and the 14th century in particular (the century in which the Chester misericords were carved) was hard. The 14th century was not merely a matter of political change and social unrest, but incorporated the Great Famine of 1315-17 the arrival of the terrible Black Death of 1348-1350, and the recurrence of plague outbreaks in 1361-2, 1369, 1374-9 and 1390-3 during which thousands of people died and entire villages were permanently abandoned, and following which economic challenges inevitably occurred.  Other notable events included the relocation of papal power from Rome to Avignon in 1309; the Ordinances of 1311, which imposed limits on Edward II’s power;  Robert de Bruce’s defeat of Edward II at Bannockburn in 1314; a period of political and military turmoil followed by Edward II’s forced abdication and probable murder in 1327; Scottish independence in 1328; the beginning of the 100 Years War in 1337 under Edward III, which brought with it periods of purveyance and heavy taxation; the 1341 parliamentary crisis; the 1351 Statue of Labourers (Edward III’s attempt at wage-fixing); the death of Edward III in 1377;  the Papal Schism of 1378; John Wycliffe’s anti-Catholic writing (inspiring his Lollard followers) and his vernacular English editions of the Bible in the mid to late 14th century; the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381; and the removal of Richard II from the throne in 1399.  For Cheshire and northeast Wales, the appointment of Edward III’s son the Black Prince as Earl of Chester in 1333 and Prince of Wales in 1343 were also particularly relevant.  A great many more dates could be added to this brief and selective list, but this is probably sufficient to highlight the social and political turbulence of these decades.  The late 14th century misericords in British monasteries and churches, with their often threatening and subversive themes may say as much about social anxiety as spiritual fervour.

Lion fighting a dragon flanked on each side by a wildman (wodehouse), one riding a wyvern and the other killing some form of dragon-like creature. St Werburgh’s Abbey, Chester

Writing about the monsters, hybrids, wildmen and grotesques populating the margins of the Luttrell Psalter (dating to the 1320s-30s), Michelle P. Brown could also be commenting on the 14th century misericords when she says:  “They reflect the neuroses of a society in flux, one rightly concerned in the face of political corruption, international warfare, civil war, famine and demographic decline.”  Some of these anxieties and concerns are translated into analogous images on the misericords, which became vehicles for representing the extreme aspects of both familiar realities and potential realities that link life as it is lived and the “other.”  Here the familiar meets the unfamiliar in the liminal, teetering right on the edge of the unknown beyond where mermaids, dragons, wyverns, unicorns, strange humanoid beings and the unknown lurked.  These territories on the edges and margins of observable reality are places of high risk, where strange beings and actions are not only possible but plausible.

This was obviously not a simple matter of juxtaposing conventionally opposing ideas like saints-and-angels versus devils-and-demons.   In the medieval period the there was a recognition of the border spaces between the sacred and the profane, the religious and the domestic, a blameless life and a misspent one, good and evil, life and death, death and rebirth.  This in-between existence is space that is neither hell nor purgatory and might act as a reminder that between this world and that occupied by the divine, there was significant uncertainty.

Bearded man at St Andrew’s, Bebington. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

Although the unusual, the mythical and the allegorical stand out, ordinary people may also be represented.  They do not feature prominently at either St Werburgh’s or Gresford’s St Oswalds, where most of the original misericords are present, but ordinary people occur on misericords outside the Chester area.  The obviously religious themes interlock with scenes of everyday life, some allegorical, some empirical, some scurrilous. Michael Camille suggests that misericords are like the Mystery plays in that they allow “anecdotal details and the depiction of social manners” including folk stories and fables and scenes of domesticity and seasonal activities.  The inclusion of peasants engaged in hard work, such as those shown in the Labours of the Months, (the most complete example of which is at a church in Ripple, Worcestershire, shifted there from Whalley Abbey after the Dissolution) may represent a dependence on the annual cycle, but may equally capture the nature of the social order itself, with saints at the top and serfs at the bottom, all equally important at least in God’s eyes.

Woman as a tornado of anger with cowering man, flanked by two very cross characters. Chester St Werburgh’s

As Grössinger says, however, most of the everyday people shown on misericords are engaged not in the domestic realm or in serious pursuits, but in “a subversive view of everyday events that can both entertain and teach.”  These depictions include acrobats, contortionists, hunting, wrestling, feasting, brawling, bear-baiting and music making.  When ordinary people begin to behave in a challenging way, there may have been a great deal of unease about the reality of God’s creations humans being less than perfect specimens who were unable or unwilling to use free will for good.  Misericords depicting women beating men, foxes preaching to geese,  gymnasts displaying their private parts, may well represent the use of derision and humour to mediate the uncomfortable realities of everyday social discord, another aspect of the subversion of an idealized view of life.  This was perhaps just as true of medieval creative thinking as it is of today’s, and ties in with an explanatory framework in which both monsters and monstrous behaviours were part of God’s creation, and should be included in any understanding of reality as it is perceived and the liminal areas beyond our immediate vision or geographic location.

The lovers Tristan and Isolde. St Werburgh’s, Chester

Heroic, chivalric and romantic tales bear testimony to the rewards of idealized behaviour in the face of such challenges, but clearly comment too on the risks confronted by good people who encounter evil, temptation and other dangers.  These narratives offer approaches to handling danger and mechanisms for defeating fear and the fearsome.

Interestingly, the misericords do not tend to focus on the image of death itself and only rarely give death a voice, unless it is to remind the onlooker of Christ’s sacrifice for humanity.  Demons, hell and people being delivered to the hellmouth are certainly represented, but these are more a threat to the living, teetering on the edge of the abyss, than a characterization of death itself.  Depictions of skeletons, the personifications of death,  fairly unusual, even in the 15th century when the Danse Macabre (and John Lydgate’s derivative Dance of Death) and cadaver monuments, and in particular transi tombs, became popular.

Fox preaching to cockerel and geese. All Saints’, Gresford

Finally, there is always the matter of tradition.  Whilst the 14th century misericords at places like Lincoln, Chester and Nantwich may have been a response to the difficulties of the times, it is quite likely that much later misericords were seen more in the light of a connection with the historical integrity of the church, the honouring of an ecclesiastical tradition and a form of validation of more modern works, as well as a resistance to ecclesiastical change, by reference to the past.

Why were carved misericords incorporated into sacred spaces?

View of the choir from steps to the central altar, Gresford All Saints’. The carved screen divides the sacred space of the choir, the choir-stalls and the misericords from the public nave beyond.

In a church the choir is divided from the long nave, where the congregation gather, by a screen.  Perhaps the dangerous and threatening was best contained and restricted within the choir, where religious rituals were concentrated, and where the clergy and monks could contemplate and learn from the disruptive and unsettling scenes before (and under) them.  It must have been accepted at some point that the inclusion of irreverence and crudity sitting alongside religious themes had a useful role and would not, most importantly, be offensive to God.  If the themes were essentially a coping strategy consisting of fashionable morality tales and derisive warnings against bad behaviour, such forms of expression probably needed to be safely contained, segregated from those who might misinterpret them and retained for the benefit of those who could contemplate them and understand their role.  Acknowledging risk and conceptualizing it in the form of margins and misericords was a way of bringing a wit and energy to the unknown world of the “other” that sat beyond the edges of medieval life, but it was not suitable for everyday consumption.

One of the Victorian replacements at Chester St Werburgh’s showing one of Aesop’s fables, the fox and the stork.

It is worth remembering that at least in the context of monastic establishments and collegiate churches, and probably in the greater majority of the parish chancels, the choir was the domain of men alone.  It is all too likely that the more risqué of these themes were considered far too warm and witty for delicate female sensibilities and, in the majority of cases, for their inferior intellects too.  Confining such scenes to the choir would normally guarantee an exclusively male audience.

Context:  Themes that reflect the misericords in other forms

Delightfully grotesque creature, one of many clinging to the walls of All Saint’s, Gresford. Its beautifully chosen red sandstone skin against the pale yellow masonry makes it particularly ghastly!

Very briefly, where misericords are found, it is worth having a look around to see what other types of similar imagery may exist both within the church and on the exterior.  The subject of architectural gargoyles and related grotesques has already arisen on this blog in connection with Gresford All Saints’ church, where the twisted, deformed, ugly and bizarre look down on gathering congregations and passers by, marching in sequence along the string-course, spewing out water, or apparently poised to pounce from window corbels and string courses. There was no limit to medieval imagination, and the exteriors of many medieval churches display some of the most extraordinary and creative monsters anywhere in the late medieval world.

Pilgrim and bench end, St Werburgh’s Abbey, Chester

Interior imagery includes choir-stall arm rests, bench-ends and bench-end carvings and sculptural components such as corbel supports. In some big ecclesiastical establishments the ceiling bosses and vaulted arch corbels are also used to capture the mythological, the fantastic and the entertaining.  Camber bream ceilings may be accessorized with sculptural components in wood or stone where the ceiling beams meet the walls.  Baptismal fonts sometimes display elaborate imagery, and where original medieval floor tiles remain, these too often display images and symbols.  Medieval stained glass, where it survives, although better known for its display of the great and the good sometimes captures subjects from the margins.  These may or may not be contemporary with misericords, but add to the story that successive generations of clergy and congregations could read in their place of worship.

Together, all these carved forms, whether in wood or stone, formed a complex ecclesiastical world in which miracles, judgement, purgatory and the apocalypse were the stuff of fact, and in which saintly shrines channelled divine power, and where the unregulated performance of domestic solutions were probably manifestations of harmful superstition and demonic magic inspired by the devil.  The messages of risk and uncertainty, coped with by following Christ’s example and ameliorated by belief in the love of God, were carried throughout the church, inside and out.
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Final Comments

Over the three posts in this small series I have barely touched the surface of what misericords meant to churches and their clergy and why they merited their cost.  That is partly because the topic is so rich and the corpus in Britain alone so massive.  There have been many attempts to get to the root of what the misericords, in each corpus, are intended to do, what role they are designed to perform.   It is possible in each place to pick out key themes in misericords, including religious and miraculous scenes; domestic, seasonal and everyday activities; kingly and knightly pursuits and adventures, many of them referencing popular chivalric romance and courtly love; the fantastic, monstrous, mythical and legendary; and the seriously crude and scatological.  The medieval interest in the “other” is very conspicuous.

All Saints’, Gresford

Misericords did not shy away from even the most bawdy elements of human existence, challenging the binary, recognizing the complexities of Christian lives.  Rather than simple black and white contrasts of good versus evil, the misericord vignettes capture an entire kaleidoscope of social and cultural perception and commentary.  It does not matter in which order the overall message is read, but it does matter that it incorporates a deeply felt form of reality beyond the immediately observable, which may offer both opportunity and risk.  Whether amusing, tender or shocking, misericords have the ability to tell a moral tale, carrying real impact in their didactic role, encouraging introspection and self-awareness.

Arm rest. St Andrew’s, Bebington

Between life as it was lived every day, the the supernatural as it was imagined, and those strange foreign lands and invisible realities with with strange monstrous beings, there was plenty to worry medieval people.  These are sources of potential anxiety and stress that paid no respect to social standing.  Misericords represent the diversity and unending variability of living things and their experiences, both natural and supernatural along the entire continuum of human and divine life.   Although sometime based on stories captured in manuscripts, and sometimes loose copies of paintings and prints from northwest Europe, the misericords have a voice of their own.  Approaching them as embodiments of layered meaning can add depth and richness to each individual piece, but they are equally appealing for their visual splendour, and can be appreciated simply for their beauty, mischief, boldness and charm.

Visiting (as of December 2023)

The layout of the choir stalls and description of their misericords. Source: Stephen Smalley 1996 (see “Sources” at end)

On my multiple visits to Chester Cathedral in 2022 and 2023  the misericords have usually been available to view.  Although they are sometimes roped off, particularly when an event is upcoming, you can usually go between the lower choir benches to lean over and see some of the misericords, and there are usually cathedral staff around to ask if you can get a little closer.  On my visits to Gresford and Malpas, the misericords were accessible to view when the church was open to visitors and not being used for services and events.  St Andrew’s in Bebington can only be visited by appointment (see below) but again the three misericords are on unrestricted display.

None of the locations have obligatory entry fees, but Chester always has someone at its reception requesting a voluntary donation into a big perspex box (or by swiping a debit/credit card).  There is also a gift shop and very good café in the former abbey refectory, which is a wonderful space in its own right.

Swordplay. St Oswald’s, Malpas

Gresford, Malpas and Bebington do not have reception staff, but as village churches they are even more in need of voluntary donations.  Given how beautifully these churches are maintained, it is well worth giving them support.

Gresford All Saints’ and Malpas St Oswald’s are still open for services, weddings and funerals, as well as community activities, but are generally also open daily for visitors. You can park outside All Saints’ on the road.  At St Oswald’s it is better to find the car park, just five minutes away, and walk.

Bebington St Andrew’s is only open for Sunday services and other formal events, and visiting is by appointment only.  My thanks to the office for making arrangements for me to visit.  I’ll be writing up the entire church on another occasion.  There is plenty of parking on the road when the church is not in use for services, weddings etc.

I have included the What3Words location for those with the app installed (it works beautifully with the free Google satnav).  Check the individual websites for services, opening times and other details:

 

 


Sources

My thanks again to Dominic Strange and his World of Misericords website for allowing me to use so many of his images. He is an absolute star, and his website is a fabulous resource, one of the best examples of how websites can really contribute to research projects.

Each of the three posts in this short series was originally a lot longer, and some of the references below relate to those chunks that I cut out, but in case the full bibliography is of interest, I’ve left it unaltered.  I have not managed to track down all the references that I might have found of use, so there are gaps.  If you are looking into misericords and want the references that I have noted down for future reference but have not used here, just let me know and I will email them over.

Books, booklets and papers

Anderson, M.D. 1954. Misericords. Medieval Life in English Woodcarving.  Penguin

Anderson, M.D. 1971. History and Imagery in British Churches. John Murray.

Asma, Steven T. 2009. On Monsters. An Unnatural History of Our Worst Fears. Oxford University Press

Avilés, Alejandro García 2019.  The Visual Culture of Magic in the Middle Ages.  In (eds.) Sophie Page and Catherine Rider. The Routledge History of Medieval Magic. Routledge, p.402-431

Barber, Richard. 1992. Bestiary. MS Bodley 64. The Boydell Press

Baxter, Ron. 1998. Bestiaries and their Users in the Middle Ages. Sutton Publishing
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/340870845_Bestiaries_and_their_Users_in_the_Middle_Ages_Sutton_Publishing_1998_ISBN_0_7509_1853_5

Bench end “poppy head,” Gresford All Saints’

Beal, Timothy K. 2002. Religion and Its Monsters. Routledge

Bennett, Carol. 2015. Lincoln Cathedral Misericords and Stalls in St Hugh’s Choir.  Lincoln Cathedral.

Bildhauer, Bettina. 2003. Blood, Jews and Monsters in Medieval Culture. In Bildhauer, Bettina and Mills, Robert (eds.), The Monstrous Middle Ages.  University of Wales Press.

Bildhauer, Bettina and Mills, Robert. 2003. Introduction: Conceptualizing the Monstrous. In Bildhauer, Bettina and Mills, Robert (eds.), The Monstrous Middle Ages.  University of Wales Press

Broughton, Lynne. 1996. Interpreting Lincoln Cathedral: The Medieval Imagery. Lincoln Cathedral Publications

Brown, Michelle, P. 2006. The World of the Luttrell Psalter. The British Library

Burne, R.V.H. 1962. The Monks of Chester. The History of St Werburgh’s Abbey. SPCK.

Camille, Michael. 1992. Image on the Edge. The Margins of Medieval Art. Reaktion Books

Chunko Betsy L. 2011. Vernacular Imagery on English Misericords:  Framing Interpretation. St Andrew’s Journal of Art History and Museum Studies, 2011, vol.15, p.5-12
https://ojs.st-andrews.ac.uk/index.php/nsr/article/download/255/264/

Clifton-Taylor, Alec. 1974. English Parish Churches as Works of Art.  B.T. Batsford Ltd.

Colish, Marcia L. 1997. Medieval Foundations of the Western Intellectual Tradition 400-1400. Yale University Press

Davies, Owen. 2012. Magic. A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press

Dickinson, John. 2008. Misericords of North West England.  Their Nature and Significance. Centre for North-West Regional Studies, University of Lancaster.

Fry, Nick. 2009.  Chester Cathedral.  Scala

Fudgé, Thomas. 2016.  Medieval Religion and its Anxieties.  History and Mystery in the Other Middle Ages.  Palgrave Macmillan

Gee, E.A. 1953. Oxford Carpenters 1370-1530. Oxoniensia, vol 17-18, 1952-3, p.112-184

Gombrich, E.H. 1979, 1984. The Sense of Order. A Study in the Psychology of Decorative Art. Phaidon Press Ltd.

Green, Richard Lancelyn (revised by Roberts, Alan) 2018. St Andrew’s Bebington. St Andrew’s Heritage Committee

Greene, J.Patrick. 1992.  Medieval Monasteries. Leicester University Press

Grössinger, Christa. 2007.  The World Upside-Down. English Misericords.  Harvey Miller Publishers

Hardwick, Paul. 2011. English Medieval Misericords. The Margins of Meaning. The Boydell Press, Woodbridge

Hardwick, Paul. 2017. Chaucer’s Friar John and the Place of the Cat. The Chaucer Review, 52(2), p. 237-252

Harte, Jeremy 2003. Hell on Earth: Encountering Devils in the Medieval Landscape. In Bildhauer, Bettina and Mills, Robert (eds.), The Monstrous Middle Ages.  University of Wales Press

Harvey, John. 1947. Gothic England. A Survey of National Culture 1300-1550. B.T. Batsford

Hiatt, C. 1898. The Cathedral Church of Chester.  A Description of the Fabric and A Brief History of the Episcopal See.  George Bell and Sons. Available on the Internet Archive

Jones, Bethan. 1997. All Saints Church Gresford. ‘The Finest Parish Church in Wales’. The Friends of the Parish Church of All Saints Gresford.

Jones, Malcolm Haydn. 1991. The Misericords of Beverley Minster: A Corpus of Folkloric Imagery and its Cultural Milieu, with Special Reference to the Influence of Northern European Iconography on Late Medieval and Early Modern English Woodwork. Unpublished PhD thesis.
https://pure.plymouth.ac.uk/ws/portalfiles/portal/38446601/303331.pdf

Laird, Marshall. 1996.  English Misericords. John Murray

Luxford, Julian. 2005. The Art and Architecture of English Benedictine Monasteries, 1300-1540. A Patronage History. Studies in the History of medieval Religion Volume XXV. The Boydell Press

Orme, Nicholas. 2021. Going to Church in Medieval England. Yale University Press

Page, Sophie. 2017. Medieval Magic. In: Davies, O, (ed.) The Oxford Illustrated History of Witchcraft and Magic, Oxford University Press, p.29-64

Riches, Samantha J.E. 2003. Encountering the Monstrous. Saints and Dragons in Medieval Thought. In Bildhauer, Bettina and Mills, Robert (eds.), The Monstrous Middle Ages.  University of Wales Press.

Rider, Catherine. 2012. Magic and Religion in Medieval England. Reaktion Books.

Roberts, Alan. 2018. St Andrew’s Bebington. Church and Churchyard Tours. St Andrew’s Heritage Committee

Ryands, T.M. (no date). An Illustrated History of St Oswald’s Malpas.

Smalley, S. (with additional research, Fry, S.) 1996. Chester Cathedral Quire Misericords. The Pitkin Guide. Chester Cathedral

White, Carolinne. 2008. The Rule of Benedict. Penguin.

Williams, David. 1996.  Deformed Discourse. The Function of the Monster in Medieval Thought and Literature. Liverpool University Press.

Woodcock, Alex. 2018 (2nd edition). Of Sirens and Centaurs.  Medieval Sculpture at Exeter Cathedral. Impress Books

Websites

All Saints’ Church, Gresford
https://www.allsaintschurchgresford.org.uk/about-us/our-history/

Bodleian Library
MS Bodley 964 (Bestiary)
https://digital.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/objects/e6ad6426-6ff5-4c33-a078-ca518b36ca49/

British History Online
Chester Cathedral – A History of the County of Chester: Volume 3. Originally published by Victoria County History, London 1980, pages 188-195
https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/ches/vol3/pp188-195

The Camelot Project, University of Rochester (New York)
The Legend of Yvain.  By Dongdong Han, 2010
https://d.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/text/han-the-legend-of-yvain

Clwyd and Powys Archaeological Trust
Church of All Saints, Gresford (although note that this has no mention at all of the misericords)
https://cpat.org.uk/Archive/churches/wrexham/16785.htm

Internet Archive
Liber monstrorum. A translation of the Old English text. By Andy Orchard, taken from Pride and Prodigies: Studies in the Monsters of the Beowulf Manuscript, University of Toronto Press; 2nd ed. edition (19 April 2003)
https://web.archive.org/web/20050118082548/http://members.shaw.ca/sylviavolk/Beowulf3.htm

The Medieval Bestiary. Animals in the Middle Ages
https://bestiary.ca/

The National and University Library Slovenia
The Elaborate Details in a Medieval Manuscript. Treasures of the National and University Library of Slovenia
https://artsandculture.google.com/story/the-elaborate-details-in-a-medieval-manuscript-national-and-university-library-of-slovenia/aAXhCkz6RxgiIw?hl=en

San Francisco State University
Ywain and Gawain. (Editors: George W. Tuma, Professor Emeritus of English, and Dinah Hazell, Independent Scholar, hosted by the English Department, San Francisco State University)
https://www.sfsu.edu/~medieval/romances/ywain_gawain_rev.html

St Oswald’s Church, Malpas
https://www.malpaschurch.co.uk/st-oswalds-malpas/

Princeton University
The Elaine C. Block Database of Misericords
https://ima.princeton.edu/digital-image-collections/collection/block/intro

World of Misericords
https://www.misericords.co.uk/ by Dominic Strange

Misericords in situ within choir stalls at St Werburgh’s Abbey (Chester Cathedral)

Part 2: Miracles, myths, demons and the occasional grin: Misericords in the Chester-Wrexham area

Gresford All Saints’

In Part 1 of this 3-part series, the subject of misericords in choir stalls was introduced, the four churches covered in this three-parter were identified, and the St Werburgh’s Abbey (Chester Cathedral) misericords were discussed.  Part 2 takes a look at the misericords in the smaller churches of Gresford All Saints’, Malpas St Oswald’s and Bebington St Andrew’s.  References for all three parts can be found at the end of Part 3.

——–
Chester, Gresford, Malpas and Bebington (continued)

Basic data about the misericords at the four churches

The misericords carved for St Werburgh’s Abbey (Chester Cathedral) were discussed in Part 1.  All Saints’ church in Gresford, St Oswald’s at Malpas and St Andrew’s in Bebington were considerably more modest in scale than St Werburgh’s Abbey, but all were impressive when measured against other parish churches in the region, and obviously had access to relatively substantial funding.  The table above was also posted in part 1 and provides some of the vital statistics of all four sets of misericords.

All Saints’, Gresford

All Saints’ Church in Gresford

All Saints’ Church in Gresford is unexpectedly big for such a small and unimposing village.  The stone church was founded in the 13th century and underwent a major revamp in the 15th century, and is still busy today. I have written about All Saints’ on two previous posts, one about the history of the church in general, and the other about the 15th century gargoyles and grotesques that inhabit its exterior.  It has been suggested that the misericords were sourced from Basingwerk Abbey at Holywell in north Wales and added to All Saints’s after the abbey was dissolved in the early 1500s, but although this remains a possibility, it is also probable that All Saints’ was sufficiently well provided for to pay for its own misericord carvings.

Choir stalls at Gresford All Saints’

Neither the All Saints’ guidebook nor the CPAT survey suggest a date for the misericords, and the church’s web page does not mention them.  Based on the presence of a preaching fox, a theme thought to represent mendicant friars who were only present from the 14th century, they must have carved after the late 14th century.  It is also very probable that they post-date those at St Werburgh’s (1390) as there was nothing else nearby to provide a model.  Although the Gresford misericords could plausibly have been associated with the major rebuild of the church in the 15th century, when two new aisles were added and many other changes were made, Dominic Strange’s misericord timeline places the misericords in the late 15th or early 16th century, over 100 years after the Chester misericords.  If correct, it demonstrates the durability of themes that were popular in earlier periods.

Sketch plan of the Gresford misericords.

The choir stalls provide a good example of a three-sided arrangement in a squared U-shape.  In total there were originally fourteen misericords, four on the north, four on the south and two lots of three on the west.  The latter flanked the entrance from the nave to the choir.  Today two are blank, either because they were never completed, or because they were removed due to inappropriate content or severe damage (I can find nothing to help determine which).  Some are quite badly damaged, but the entire group indicate great skill and include some varied topics.

The choir, Gresford All Saints’

The misericords are separated by arm rests that curl up the sides of the chairs and along the backs, each one featuring a small human figure at the front of the arm rest.  Exceptions are at the corners between the north and west rows and the west and south rows, which feature fantastic beasts.

As in St Werburgh’s, a fox is dressed as a friar but this time he is in a pulpit preaching to chickens and geese, demonstrating that this theme was of interest not merely to monastic establishments but to churches as well.  The allegedly venal of some elements of the mendicant cause may be the theme here. The earliest mendicant friars were poor and itinerant, begging for alms.  By the later middle ages they were comfortably established in friaries of their own, the recipients of patronage, gifts and wills. The apparent hypocrisy was a source of grievance for the clergy beyond the seclusion of the cloister.  The parish priest may also have felt threatened by the powerful public sermons and the more evocative style of engagement with the general public delivered by the friars.  In the parish church, as well as in the heart of the monastery, friars might be seen as a threat to the role of the conventional clergy, to be satirized, derided and, if possible, undermined.

One of the more puzzling themes that occasionally appears on misericords (but is missing from Chester, possibly due to removal in the Victorian period) is the revealing of male nether regions. At Gresford this is given a context.  The misericord shows an acrobat hanging over a pole held by two men, ostentatiously exposing his undercarriage, apparently during a performance, possibly a form of slap-stick entertainment.  Quite what these were doing on misericords is uncertain, although there is a lot of speculation on the subject.  Whilst there may have been a warning against lewdness and impurity, it is difficult to deny that at least some of these depictions were intended to include a degree of crude humour.

A badly damaged misericord shows two cats, both standing on their hind legs in front of something that is now missing but appears to show a mouse hole at the base, with a tiny mouse with pointed ears to its right.  The cats are holding hands, with one apparently leading the other.  The leading cat seems to have been holding something in its outstretched paw.  Perhaps the upright stance reflects the cat’s commanding, self-possessed and often self-satisfied view of its position within its own universe.  An alternative interpretation is that when animals are shown adopting human behaviour, it is a reminder of human failings.  Similarly standing on their hind legs are the cats in MS. Bodley 764 (folio 50r), which also shows cats on the hunt.

Cats from MS Bodley 764, folio 50r. Source: Medieval Bestiary

Wheelbarrows feature quite frequently in misericords, and one of the Gresford misericords shows two women seated side by side in a wheelbarrow being pushed towards the open jaws of a monster’s head by a creature with staring eyes and a forked tail.  The cavalcade is followed by a man.  All the participants in the scene stare out at the onlooker.  The open jaws of the monster represent the gateway to hell.  This is a much simpler version of a well-known example at St George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle, which shows two monks being wheeled towards the hellmouth by either a demon or the devil himself, leading to the suggestion that the two wimpled women on the Gresford misericord may be nuns (but bearing in mind that wimples were not exclusive to nuns).  The supporters appear to be small rodents, but it is difficult to see how they might relate to the central narrative.

A splendid winged griffin, facing left, is positioned between two delicate unicorns, one of which is missing its head. The griffin has the head and wings of an eagle, the body of a Lion and is four-legged.  Like the lion, which can exert its power for either good or evil, depending on the context.  When Alexander the Great encounters the enclave of griffins in his voyage to the end of the world, the creature is a true monster, ugly, frightening and vicious.  On the other hand it is a pair of griffins that carried Alexander over the edge of the world.  The griffin is often used to represent rival ideas and can, in different contexts, represent such opposing individuals as Satan and Christ.  The griffin also represents the combination of the opposing elemental forces of air (eagle) and earth (lion).  It is difficult to know what, in this context, the griffin is intended to convey.  The presence of unicorns, which are often associated with Christ, may either be supportive companions, opposing forces, or hapless victims, and there is nothing to help determine which. The supporters are decorative flowers.

Another misericord, also quite unlike its companions, seems to refer to the gargoyles and grotesques so strongly featured on the exterior of the building.  It may have had no specific symbolic meaning.  It is a monster’s face with vaulting emanating from its head.  The vaulting may be intended to evoke the magnificent screen that separates choir from nave at All Saints’, although the flowers at the intersections on the misericord are not present on the screen. Perhaps it is intended to bring indoors the collective message that the gargoyles and grotesques were communicating from the exterior of the church (discussed briefly in an earlier post).

Some of the All Saints’ misericords are very badly damaged, leaving the core subject matter very difficult to identify.  A particularly frustrating example is the misericord whose central subject matter is completely missing.  Flanking it there is a wonderful winged angel on the left and, on the right, a lady in an elaborate dress kneeling before a personal altar with the soft folds of her dress flowing behind her on the floor.  Perhaps this was either the Annunciation or the Coronation of the Virgin, particularly as there are no other overtly religious stories included in the All Saints’ corpus.

Another badly damaged misericord shows a woman on a four-legged animal, the head of which is missing and is therefore unidentifiable.  It is short, has particularly bandy legs and ill-defined feet, none of which suggest a horse.  Two carvings, one in front of the woman and animal, and one behind, are lost.  The one behind is almost certainly another figure in a long garment, but the one in front may or may not be.

Some of the misericords contain no narrative or obviously symbolic component.  One misericord has no central subject matter and no obvious sign of damage, with just two images as supporters, right on the edge of the underside of the seat.  These are two three-quarter partial heads, almost sketches, looking towards one another.  The meaning of this, if there was any, is lost.  If there was a central carving, there is not even a shape left to suggest a subject matter.  It is possible that it was carved at a much later date to replace one of the original misericords that might have been damaged or whose subject matter was considered inappropriate.  These lost stories are very frustrating.

All of the misericords at Gresford are shown on the World of Misericords website at https://www.misericords.co.uk/gresford.html, with short descriptions at https://www.misericords.co.uk/gresford_des.html.

St Oswald’s, Malpas

St Oswald’s Church in Malpas. Photograph by Alan Marsh. Source: Historic England

St Oswald’s Church in the village of Malpas was founded in the late 1300s.  The church underwent a similar modernization in the 15th century to that at Gresford, including a similar camber beam roof.  It has a great many features that continue to impress, particularly the spectacular tomb effigies of the 15th and early 16th centuries, but its remaining misericords are disappointingly confined to three choir stalls.

There is a set of three choir stalls with three misericords, in a single row, still displayed in the choir area in St Oswald’s.  The visitor guide to the church says that there were “at least twelve” 15th century choir stalls with misericords, with only nine surviving and six “much restored.”  Given that there are only three on display, it is something of a puzzle as to what happened to the remaining six of the nine surviving.  There are no descriptions of any of the misericords, and nor does the booklet say where the surviving misericords (other than the three still in the choir at Malpas) are located today.

The remaining row of choir stalls at St Oswald’s with the misericords hidden beneath the seats.

The choir stalls have carved armrests, although they less elaborate than those at Gresford, and have no carved bench ends.  This may suggest that carved choir stalls were never a very important component of the chancel at St Oswald’s, or that the funds required for a more ambitious project were not available.  All three remaining misericords are described here, with the disclaimer that they represent only a very small sample of the original corpus.  Two of the three are damaged.

I particularly like the mermaid.  Mermaids appear on many misericords in Britain.  Mermaids resembled Greek sirens, representing both the temptation and lust that men might find hard to resist on the one hand, and the dangers represented by the deformation of the human image in the form of a hybrid creature on the other.  They were usually shown, as at Malpas, with bared breasts, with a comb in one hand and a mirror in the other, warnings not merely of seduction but of the vice of vanity.  The Malpas mermaid looks down and seems to be moving gently to her right.  Her tail has been lightly carved to suggest fish scales. Her bare chest is distinctly flat and smooth, unlike most misericord mermaids, perhaps to avoid encouraging carnal thoughts amongst the Malpas choristers.  She holds the comb  in her left hand, which rests on her thigh (separated from her upper arm by breakage), and the mirror in the other, overlapping one of the supporters.  Both supporters are three-lobed leaves.

A winged monster has one head, shown facing outward, but two bodies that are shown in profile either side of the head.  This is probably the simplest and least worked of all three, with minimal details carved into the image, although there are shallow markings to suggest the scaled nature of the wings, and clawed feet.  The face is shown in more detail, with three protrusions from the head, which may or may not depict serpents.  It is clearly a monster with affinities like the wings, tails and claws that are shared with dragons. Dragons, wyverns and related monsters may represent paganism, power, uncontrolled violence or lust, the Devil himself and unspecified evil and sin that must be confronted and neutralized, or at the very least rationalized.  As such creatures are usually associated with remote, often hostile landscapes, they may also represent fear of the unknown.  It may also offer a shifting geographical component, so that the dragon may be feared in the remote landscape but is only confronted when it threatens human habitation and safety. The three-lobed leaf supporters are nicely done, with clearly defined edges.  A much more elaborate version of a single-headed and double-bodied monster is shown in the Luttrell Psalter (folio 195v), but is evidently part of the same family of images familiar and available to medieval illuminators, carvers and sculptors.

Single-headed two-bodied monster from the Luttrell Psalter (Add MS 42130 f.195.v). Source: Groteskology

Finally, two knights are shown engaged in an athletic, almost balletic fight with swords. Of the three this is by far the most complex, compositionally.  At first glance it is very difficult to see exactly what is going on, and whose limbs belong to whom, vividly capturing movement.  The pointed shoes, generally confined to the well-to-do, emphasize the mobility and athleticism of the figures.  Perhaps it refers to a scene from a chivalric romance, such a the Chester examples that show scenes from stories of Yvain and Tristan and Isolde. Again, the supporters are foliage.

St Andrew’s, Bebington

St Andrew’s, Bebington

As I was just about ready to hit the Publish button on this post I had a whizz through Dominic Strange’s Timeline and Gazetteer, which revealed that St Andrew’s in Bebington on the Wirral possesses misericords in three choir stalls, plus two that have survived being separated from their choir stalls, now serving as corbels.  Although the church is not open except for Sunday services, weddings etc., Karen from the church office very kindly arranged for me to visit when volunteers were working there.

Choir stalls in St Andrew’s, Bebington

It is particularly nice to have found these misericords because, as with St Oswald’s in Malpas, the misericords at St Andrew’s rarely appears in books about misericords, always overshadowed by Chester Cathedral and Gresford All Saints’.  It is clear that they should be included here not only because they are local and under-sung but because they show some themes that are not shown in the misericords at the other locations discussed in these posts.

The pelican in her piety

Dominic Strange places all five misericords in the 15th century.  The guidebook to the church, by Richard Lancelyn Green, says that there were originally twelve of them, with six surviving until 1847 when they were split up due to damp and dry rot.  Presumably the other six were discarded.  Initially, in 1871, they were split into pairs and then, in 1897, three of them were reassembled into the row that survives today in the chancel, just to the side of the main altar. Two of them have been removed from their original choir stalls and are deployed as corbels but there is no mention of the sixth 1847 survivor.

At the far left of the choir stall is the pelican in her piety plucking her breast (shown above), already described in connection with Chester in part 1, but flanked here with foliage.

Bearded man. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

The head of a man with beard and hat or other form of head covering may or may not be a portrait.  Many misericords show human faces, some characterized by particular expressions or actions, but many contain no clues about the significance.  The supporters feature pomegranates.  Pomegranates are associated with numerous ideas from antiquity onwards.  The symbolism attached to them ranges from fertility, regeneration and good luck to representing the shedding of the blood of Christ and as a symbol of the church and its congregation.  Without knowing quite what the man’s head represents it is difficult to interpret the entire message of the misericord.

The third in the row is a splendid dolphin flanked by equally splendid seahorses, presumably designed by someone who had seen neither dolphin or seahorse. The dolphin is a rather terrifying looking creature, but there seem to be no negative narratives associated with it. The bestiary in MS Bodley 764 includes the dolphin, but attaches no special meaning to it, stating that “they follow men’s voices, or gather in shoals when music is played . . . if they go in front of the ship, leaping in the waves, they appear to foretell bad weather.”  The only other misericord dolphins that I’ve seen in my online travels are at Norwich Cathedral and St Laurence’s Church in Ludlow.

The remaining two misericords, now used as corbels, show what may be a bull’s head, and a sow with a litter.  You can see them on the World of Misericords website.  The sow with a litter is a theme also featured on one of the St Werburgh misericords.  MS Bodley 764 is quite clear on the negative connotations:  “The sow that was washed and returns to her wallowing in the mire is filthier than before; and he who weeps for his admitted sins, but does not desist from them, earns a graver punishment, condemned by his own misdeeds which he could have prevented by repentance; and he descends as if into murky waters because he removes the cleanness of his life by such tears, which are tainted before the eyes of God.”  Sows represent unclean spirits and are often associated with gluttony and, more disturbingly, heresy.  And in the medieval mind, where heresy lurks, paganism may be lurking nearby.

Contributors to knowledge

Even in such small numbers, the churches at Malpas and Bebington contribute to the body of information about Medieval misericords, helping to build up a database of knowledge about the themes that were of interest to those who commissioned them for the most sacred parts of their monasteries and parish churches.  Unless an early report describing or illustrating some of the other misericords emerges, the legacy of those who commissioned, funded and carved the misericords at Malpas and Bebington are confined to just these three and five examples respectively.  Although the themes were represented elsewhere, none of the topics shown replicate any of those surviving at St Werburgh’s.

Other churches in the region with misericords

Grapevine misericord at Nantwich St Mary’s. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

The above are the only churches with misericords in the Wrexham-Chester area, but there are others in the general region.  For example, there is a set of fourteen dating to the late 14th century in St Mary’s Nantwich to the east, in the town centre.  There are 20 dating to the late 15th century in St Asaph’s Cathedral to the west in north Wales. Another set of sixteen dating to the late 15th century can be found in St Bartholemew’s in the village of Tong to the southeast (where the A41 meets the M54).  Finally, there are two fine sets of 15th century misericords (the first of sixteen in 1425 the second of twelve in 1447) in St Laurence’s church in Ludlow.

The distinctive Nantwich examples can be seen on Dominic’s World of Misericords, as can those at St Asaph’s, but the Tong ones have yet to be added to the site, and I cannot find images of more than one or two of them elsewhere.  There is a section of the Ludlow Palmers website dedicated to the St Laurence’s misericords in Ludlow, and you can see sixteen of them on World of Misericords.

Next

Part 3 wraps up the series, looking at who was involved in the creation of misericords, how they were paid for, and why they featured so frequently in the most sacred part of a church, often hidden from view but containing a mixture of messages that in each case contributed to the sense of a church’s identity.  Visitor details and references are also added at the end of part 3.

 

Miracles, myths, demons and the occasional grin: Misericords in the Chester-Wrexham area #1

Introduction

I first encountered the fabulously inventive misericords, an integral part of some church choir stalls, in Chester Cathedral, founded as St Werburgh’s Abbey.  At the abbey they were installed in the late 14th century, and in all cases, from the late 12th to the early 16th century the choir stalls were located in the holiest section of a church, where sacred liturgies and rituals were performed.

Two choir stalls from St Andrew’s Bebington. On the left the hinged seat is in the down position, hiding the misericord beneath. On the right, the seat is tipped up, leaning on the seat back, and reveals the carved misericord on the underside of the seat (my photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

Misericords are hinged wooden seats set into the choir stalls.  When folded down to provide seating, the seat has a plain, flat surface, but when folded up to rest against the seat back, a small platform on the underside of the seat allows the standing chorister to rest his rear end.  The word misericord derives from the Latin misericordia (mercy or pity) and for the tired or aged monk or chorister looking for some respite for weary and arthritic legs, it probably was mercifully welcome.

The central theme of this misericord is a two-bodied monster with a single head. The supporters are also rather wonderful monsters, the one on the right also a double-bodied creature, the one on the left possibly a wyvern (Chester Cathedral, my photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

In some cases, these misericords were decorated with elaborate carvings.  They are flamboyant, skilfully carved and conceptually clever, covering a variety of themes, with individual scenes capturing a seemingly bottomless pit of information about medieval ideas, anxieties, beliefs and even humour.  They consist of a central scene and two “supporters.”  The central scene is the main subject matter, and the supporters may relate to it, but may simply perform the job of ornamental complements.  Although many western European countries also display misericords, the supporters are a British feature.  The earliest misericords known in Britain date to the 13th century, with the most complete examples being at Exeter and Salisbury.

The themes of misericords may be religious, mythological, fantastical, domestic, seasonal, humorous, crude and even scatological.  Unlike gargoyles, and the figures on arm rests and bench ends, which are individual sculptures, the misericords often make up quite complex scenes, and may be have a narrative component.  Particularly skilled carvers produced sophisticated forms and structures which not only engage the viewer but stand out as works of art in their own right.  Whilst some were evidently intended to amuse or surprise, others were layered with meaning, creating galleries of real character and adventure.

Canopies above the choir stalls in Chester Cathedral (my photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

Misericords, just one component of the choir stalls, are usually accompanied by carved arm rests and often magnificent bench-ends, and in the wealthier establishments sit beneath elaborate canopies, as at Chester Cathedral, making up a fascinating ensemble of images, ideas and aesthetics.  Arm rests sit between each of the choir stalls, often running partially up the side of the stall too, creating the sense that each choir stall was an individual unit, and are often carved, usually into human, animal and imaginary figures.  Bench ends are panels at the ends of each row of choir stalls, and desks, in front of choir stalls, for holding books and music were also decorated.  Panels were carved with scenes and they were topped with little carved sculptural elements called finials.  Other sculptural features complemented and supported them.

The bigger, most prosperous establishments could afford more ambitious creations, in terms of both the quantity and quality of the misericords, but smaller establishments with suitably generous patrons often have some excellent and surprising examples to offer.  One of the features of British misericords that is not often seen in Europe is the addition of secondary carvings called supporters.  These are sometimes purely decorative, and sometimes contribute to the central subject matter.

The u-shaped choir at All Saints’ Gresford with choir stalls and misericords at north, south and, with a gap to allow access from the nave, the west (my sketch Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0).

Rows of choir stalls with misericords, each with a row of narrow desks in front of them for holding music and manuscripts, face one another across the choir, as at Chester Cathedral.  In some cases there may be a third set of choir stalls at the west end, up against the screen that separates choir from nave to form a squared U-shaped choir, as at All Saints’ in Gresford.

Inevitably some establishments had misericords which have now been lost.  Peterborough Cathedral retains only three of what must have been an impressive collection of misericords rivalling other great ecclesiastical establishments.

Choir stalls at Chester Cathedral (my photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

Part 1 introduces misericords and explains what they are.  Examples from Chester Cathedral are discussed.  Part 2 looks at the examples from Gresford All Saints’, Malpas St Oswald’s and Bebington St Andrew’s.  Part 3 looks at who chose the themes on misericords, where the ideas came from, who paid for them, and why some often profane images were housed in such sacred places.  Also in part 3, some final comments are followed by visitor details and a full list of the references used for all three parts.

All three parts are already written.  Part 2 has now been posted on the blog  and Part 3 will be posted shortly.  If you would like to see the list of references before part 3 is posted, please get in touch and I will email them.

On these posts, some of the photographs are mine, but others, particularly for Chester Cathedral where I didn’t use flash, have been taken from Dominic Strange’s remarkable World of Misericords website, with Dominic’s permission and my sincere thanks.  His copyright statement is here.  Please see the captions for the correct attributions.  I have included some images from all the churches discussed, but to see the complete medieval corpus of each, do visit Dominic’s site, which has complete images from all the churches mentioned in this post, plus a great many other monastic churches, cathedrals and churches in Britain and Europe. This is the type of ever-growing online resource that makes the most of the web as a platform for building  shared resources from which both professionals and enthusiasts can benefit and to which they can contribute.
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Chester, Gresford, Malpas and Bebington

St Werburgh’s Abbey in Chester was the first of these four medieval churches to have misericords installed along with their choir stalls.  Chester, being an abbey with massive financial resources, had 48 misericords of which 43 survive.  All Saints’ in Gresford had 14, St Oswald’s in Malpas 12, and it is unknown how many there were at St Andrew’s in Bebington.  A summary of the vital statistics is shown below.

Basic data about the misericords at the four churches

Chester

Chester Cathedral. (my photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

Chester Cathedral was founded as St Werburgh’s Benedictine Abbey by Hugh Lupus in c.1092 but the choir stalls and their misericords were not installed until the 14th century, in about 1380.  The delicately crafted choir (or quire) was the exclusive domain of the monks and their daily rituals, visited only rarely perhaps by the most generous of the abbey’s patrons.  The monks were called to the choir seven times a day and once at night.  The object of the exercise was to honour and worship the glory of God.  This makes the choir the spiritual heart of a monastery.  And yet it is here that profane and irreverent images of many misericords were also resident, as fully integrated components of the monks’ devotional and liturgical lives.

The timing of the new choir stalls is particularly interesting as it follows a period of enormous national hardship, beginning with crop failure and famine, and climaxing with the Black Death.  The abbey clearly had funds at its disposal, even during such a difficult period, because the choir represents an enormous investment.  With its choir stalls, desks, benches and elaborate canopies, all carved in oak, the choir’s components were not merely functional.  Today the choir and its many flourishes are valued not only for the considerable skill demonstrated by its carvers and for its considerable aesthetic merit, but for the symbolic character of many of its representational carvings.

The layout of the choir stalls and description of their misericords. Source: Stephen Smalley 1996 (see “Sources” at end).  Click to enlarge.

Although Chester Cathedral appears at first glance to have a complete set of medieval misericords, 5 out of the 48 were, as mentioned above, replaced by Victorian restorers either to replace damaged ones or to replace those that were considered to have inappropriate themes, such as nudity or poor taste.  It is not known what happened to the missing misericords, but they were probably destroyed at the time.  Given that the Puritan soldiers of the English Civil War defaced many features of Chester Cathedral in 1645 it is astonishing that the 48 survived so long.

The St Werburgh’s Abbey examples are justifiably famous, very similar to the examples at Lincoln Cathedral, built a decade earlier, which probably provided some templates for Chester, and with which they may have shared a workforce.  Shown to the right is the layout of the misericords and the topic of each one, copied from a small and invaluable booklet that used to be sold in the cathedral shop.  It is now presumably out of print and has become very difficult to source (thanks for the loan Katie!).  Note that those misericords shown in italics are Victorian replacements.

The themes present at Chester’s St Werburgh Abbey are a phenomenal mix, so only a few can be picked out to represent some of the ideas on show.

Scene of St Werburgh’s miracles. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

Obviously religious themes and personalities are often in a minority on misericords, but where a monastery or church is named for a particular saint,  a misericord may be dedicated to that saint.  The Anglo-Saxon saint Werburgh was an 8th century nun and abbess from the Midlands.  One of the misericords focuses on St Werburgh’s miracle.  There are various versions of the story but all agree that geese were damaging the convent fields. Werburgh ordered them to be gathered up before commanding them to leave.  The convent steward, Hugh, was angry with the geese for devastating his field of corn.  One version says that whilst Werburgh was away Hugh captured and cooked one of the geese, and when she returned the remaining geese had refused to leave, forming a delegation to inform her of the event and ask for her help.  Werbugh ordered that the bones and feathers of the carcass should be gathered up, and the missing goose was reborn.  The supporter to the left shows Hugh and Werburgh rounding up the geese.  In the centre Werburgh resurrects the goose, which flies away with its companions.  On the right supporter Hugh is on his knees, repentant, and is forgiven by Werburgh.

Coronation of the Virgin in Chester. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

The infrequency of religious topics is perhaps due to a general feeling that it as unsuitable to a) hide them away and b) sit on them.  However they do occur and at Chester another obviously religious topic that requires no interpretation is the Coronation of the Virgin.  The Chester example is not the carved equivalent of a delicate Fra Angelico, being a rather chunky rendition, but it has real charm and the supporters, cittern-playing winged angels, are lovely.   The Virgin and Child is the subject of another misericord.  St George and the Dragon is another popular religious topic for misericords, an action scene that shows an uncompromising approach to demonic danger, but the one at Chester is Victorian.

The rear end of Yvain’s horse captured in the portcullis in Chester. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

Popular romance stories provide the theme for some misericords, such as the 12th century Arthurian story “The Knight of the Lion” by Chrétien de Troyes about Sir Yvain.  A snapshot from the story is captured on a really entertaining vignette.  The central scene shows a walled town with its entrance arch flanked by two slender towers.  Look closely, and you see that the rear end of a horse faces you.  As Yvain chased his opponent into the gatehouse, the portcullis was activated by a secret device as Yvain’s horse stepped on it.  The portcullis dropped, narrowly missing Yvain and chopped the horse in two.  The portcullis at the other end of the gatehouse also dropped, trapping Yvain.  All of this, and the rest of the story, would have been immediately recognizable, without showing Yvain himself, from the image of the half-horse on the outer side of the portcullis.  The horse’s arse approach to a story that had plenty of other events from which to select probably raised many smiles as well as evoking the rest of the story.  The supporters show another aspect of the tale involving two men-at-arms.

Alexander in Flight in Chester. My photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

Alexander the Great, very small part history and a much greater part legend and fiction, was a very popular character in the Middle Ages.  At Chester a misericord captures the notorious “flight” of Alexander.  The great leader, having reached the edge of the world, wished to explore the unknown beyond, rising both to the heights and to the depths. Perched on what looks like a piece of wood in this misericord is his throne, supported on ropes held by two griffins.  Fully equipped to take flight, he was carried over the edge of the known world to explore the unknown.

Alexander in Flight shown in the mid-15th century Talbot Shrewsbury Book, officially known as Royal MS 15 E VI (folio 20v). Source: British Library.

Having acquainted himself with the unknown world, and finding nothing left for him to conquer, Alexander returned to the known world.  Alexander’s flight to the unknown may be more favourite story than morality tale, although it can also be taken to represent the folly of all-encompassing ambition.  Alexander goes on to conquer Babylon and build himself a massive golden throne. In Babylon, he dies.  As David Williams says “Alexander is both the force that battles the monsters as he attempts to extend civilization to the ends of the earth, and he is the monster itself, demolisher of cities, reviser of history.”  The misericord’s supporters also show griffins.  Griffins are discussed further with reference to a splendid example at Gresford in Part 2.

Angry woman berating a cowering man in Chester. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

Scenes of domestic life on British misericords include some startling vignettes of women attacking men, presumably their husbands.  The marvellous example at Chester involves a woman with a dress resembling a tornado, sweeping her much smaller, cowering husband aside with a wooden implement, apparently in a garden or rural setting.  The Chester Cathedral Quire Misericords booklet describes this as “fighting couple,” which seems like something of an understatement for a scene showing a whirlwind of fury breaking loose.  Some of these many British and European woman-abusing-man misericords have been interpreted as depicting the physical, carnal and uncontrolled aspect of women.  It has also been suggested that some of them may represent male anxiety in the face of increasing female emancipation.  Perhaps, in the male-only environment of the choir, a humorous subtext was that the monastery is a much safer place for a man than a marital home.  The supporters, which appear at first glance to be floral, have angry faces at their centres, reinforcing the message of conflict and hostility.

A page from the 13th century MS Bodley 764, showing the tigress with the mirror at the top (see below). Source: Bodleian Library, Oxford

Real world animals, fish and birds shown on misericords, either local or exotic, are frequently very beautiful, but often have symbolic roles as well.  “Bestiaries” were encyclopaedia type books produced in the middle ages that not only produced information about animals (some of them mythological or imaginary)  but also put them into religious context.  An example is the fascinating bestiary now known as manuscript MS Bodley 764 available to view on the Bodleian Library website or available in print, translated by Richard Barber (see Sources at the end of Part 3).  This describes characteristics of familiar, exotic and mythological animals, many of which appear on misericords.  There is also the splendid Medieval Bestiary website, an excellent resource that lists animals (again, real, exotic and mythological) and examines medieval perspectives on each, including their symbolic value.

Herons with sinuous necks. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

The MS Bodley 764 bestiary says that a familiar British bird, the heron, symbolizes “the soul of saints or the elect, who, scorning the turbulence of this world, lest they should become ensnared in the traps of the devil, raise their minds above things to the serenity of heaven where they could see God face to face.”  A Chester misericord shows two fabulous herons, their necks sinuously curved and their heads facing upwards as though feeding off the underside of the misericord.  They are flanked by supporters that are less easy to interpret, but possibly representing demonic influences: a winged dragon with claws on one side, and on the other side a man-headed dragon with beard and an elaborate hat, scaled body and hooves.

Herons and supporters. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

The knight stealing a cub and deceiving the tigress with a mirror. My photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

An exotic animal displayed on a misericord was the tiger, something impossible for most people to experience, much like a unicorn, but known to be the living product of distant lands.  In this particular narrative it is at the heart of a morality tale, which is described in the bestiary.  A knight lies flat on his horse’s back, holding a stolen tiger cub in his left hand.  From this apparently perilous position he reaches to the ground and drops a mirror in the path of the tigress that pursues her stolen cub.  The tigress stops when she sees the mirror, believing that her own reflection is the stolen cub.  Together, the knight and the mirror represent demonic trickery and deceit, whilst the inclusion of the tiger provides an exotic flavour to the scene.  Admittedly the tiger doesn’t look like a tiger (no stripes either on the misericord or on the blue creature in the bestiary, shown in MS Bodley 764 above) but this was a well known scene that would have been familiar to educated medieval onlookers. 

The Pelican in her Piety. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

Some animals have specifically religious associations.  The “Pelican in her Piety” is a recurring theme and is shown on one of the misericords at Chester, as well as one of the associated carvings, representing the sacrifice of Christ to redeem humanity.  The pelican, attacked by her hungry children (representing ungrateful humanity), retaliates and accidentally kills them.  Remorsefully, she pecks her own breast until she bleeds, and this revives her chicks (representing Christ’s sacrifice for humanity).

The unicorn, his head cradled in the lap of a virgin whilst killed by a knight. My photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

Mythological animals on the Chester misericords also often have specific ideas associated with them, which may sometimes be an odd blending of imaginary animals with Christian ideas.  For example, there is a carving of a really lovely unicorn with a curly mane, its head in the lap of a woman (above).  Even as it lies there it is attacked and killed by a man in armour with a sword.  The woman is a virgin, and the voluntary submission of the unicorn symbolizes its respect for her pure condition, like the Virgin Mary, whilst the killing of the unicorn represents Christ’s sacrifice and the martyrdom of the innocent.  The supporters show a wyvern with scaled wings, and one with bat wings, probably demonic characters representing the eternal threat of evil.   This scene is a popular one, not confined to misericords.  Below it is an illustration in a manuscript, showing exactly the same components.

The 13th century Rochester Bestiary: British Library, Royal 12f. XIII, fol.10v. Source: Wikpedia

A friar-fox preaching to a woman. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

Animals mimicking human actions normally incorporate a particular comment on the human world, often derisive or satirical.  In St Werburgh’s Abbey, the wily fox in a friar’s habit, preaching to a woman, possibly a nun, probably represented the new mendicant friars preaching to the gullible general public.  The orders of friars in Chester were Franciscans, Dominicans and Carmelites.  These were the new kids on the block in the 13th century who, unlike the established Benedictine monks, were preaching in the streets, and mingling with people where they lived and worked, diverting donations to their own establishments and raising questions about the value of monks who were hidden away.  These scenes at several churches demonstrate Benedictine contempt for the mendicants, putting a clever and often amusing spin on their activities (the friar-foxes are often shown preaching to geese and cockerels), but almost certainly demonstrate a certain amount of anxiety about how their popularity would impact the conventional, secluded monks in their cloisters.  Another, closely related interpretation is that the fox represents the anti-establishment Lollards, deeply troubling to the church in the 14th century.

Wildman and lion. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

Mythological people also have a place on misericords.  Wildmen are a popular subject, of which there are three examples at Chester, each dealing with a slightly different theme. A Wildman (or wodehouse) is distinguished from other men by being covered from head to foot with a curly or shaggy pelt.  Only the bearded upper face, hands and feet are fur-free.  Wildmen were nearer to nature than to civilization, and accordingly had powers over the natural world.  One of the examples, known from a number of sites, shows a lion (often God) fighting a dragon (often Satan) with the supporters showing Wildmen riding, and thereby controlling, dragons.  A second example, shown here, shows a Wildman (with head damaged) riding a lion, holding its chain in one hand.  The pair are flanked by two different types of dragon or monster.  Wildmen riding dragons and lions represent nature tamed, but may also suggest the taming of passions like love and lust.

Scene from the romance of Tristan and Isolde. My photo Creative Commons licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0

Finally, some churches have scenes that are unique or found only rarely.  Chester has a misericord showing a scene from the early 13th century Arthurian romance of Tristan and Isolde (or Iseult), which it shares only with Lincoln Cathedral.  The misericord at Chester shows the lovers in front of a tree with a dog at their feet.  In or behind the tree is Isolde’s justifiably suspicious husband King Mark, spying on the lovers.  Tristan’s dog at the feet of the lovers represents loyalty and love in most versions of the tale, but in one version of the story it is revealed that blind loyalty can be dangerous, when the dog betrays the disguised Tristan by recognizing him.  One of the difficulties of deciphering a scene like this is that there may be several versions of a popular story that include the same lead characters and supporting roles, but with different narrative twists and outcomes.

Sow and piglets. Source: Dominic Strange, World of Misericords

The misericords at Chester help to demonstrate the variety of themes and ideas that were in play in the Middle Ages, and successfully demonstrate the imagination, creativity and skill that went into the misericords in a prestigious religious institution.  They do not capture the complete range of  typical subject matters that might be found on misericords throughout Britain.  Five of them are, of course, missing, either because of damage or, perhaps more likely, because the Victorian restorers considered their themes to be inappropriate.  Even so, the massive variety of misericord subjects chosen across the many ecclesiastical institutions in Britain point to different interests and ideas in the many places in which they appear.

All of the Chester misericords are shown on the World of Misericords website at https://www.misericords.co.uk/chester.html, with short descriptions at https://www.misericords.co.uk/chester_des.html

Next

Emulating their more prestigious cousins much smaller churches could also follow ecclesiastical fashion and demonstrate, on a more modest scale, their ability to produce fine misericords and other sculptural elements of their own.  In Part 2 the twelve of fourteen misericords at Gresford, and the remaining examples at Malpas (three of twelve) and Bebington (five of twelve) are discussed.

 

The colourful and uplifting Grade-1 listed 17th-18th century Rhug Chapel, near Corwen

Having visited Grade-1 listed Rhug (pronounced “rig”) Chapel around 20 years ago, I had always meant to return because I found it such a joyous place.  A small building, it is a jack-in-a-box full of surprises.  Although fairly plain on the exterior, it escaped Reformation erasure as well as any major Victorian remodelling.  The interior retains all of its 17th Century charm, an extravaganza of bright paintwork, wonderful patterns and motifs, and lively carvings.  It is a celebration of colour, very unusual in most of Britain’s attractive but sombre post-Reformation Anglican buildings.

The chapel is in a rural setting, just to the west of Corwen in the Dee valley, with plenty of footpaths in the immediate area.  You might consider visiting the nearby and remarkable little Llangar Church at the same time (which I have posted about on this blog here).  Both are open only a few times a month for a part of the year, closed for the rest of the year, but their opening times are co-ordinated so that they can be visited on the same days.  Visiting details for both are at the end of the post.

Many thanks to Cadw guide Heather for a great introductory talk, and for pointing out many details that we might otherwise have missed, and there was plenty of time to ask questions and wander around afterwards. There is not always a guided talk available.  I’ve written up some of the top level details of the visit below, but I recommend buying the Cadw guide book, which is stuffed full of information and great photos.  It also has the details of Llangar Church and Gwydir Uchaf Chapel.  I haven’t yet visited Gwydir Uchaf near Betws-y-Coed but it is one on my list.

Apologies for the poor quality of the interior photographs, which are very grainy and occasionally a bit blurred, due to the low lighting that helps to preserve the paintwork.  Hopefully they will still suggest that the chapel is very much worth a visit.

Background

Cross at Rhug, brought by William Salusbury from Denbigh

Rhug Chapel, properly the Chapel of Holy Trinity, was built as a private chapel by Colonel William Salusbury (1580-1660), set apart from Rhug Manor.  The land in which Rhug sits belonged to descendants of Prince of Powys Madog ap Merdudd (who died in 1160) until it passed to a daughter, who married into the Salesbury family.  Sir Robert Salusbury, the son of this marriage, added the lordship of Glyndyfrdwy to the family’s property, once in the ownership of the rebel Owain Glyndwr.  Robert died in 1599, and his only son, who had no children of his own, died only nine years later in 1608.  The estate passed to Sir Robert’s brother instead, Captain John Salusbury.  He too died without children, only three years later, in 1611 and was in turn succeeded by his brother, William Salusbury.

William Salusbury was once a privateer (a type of state-authorized pirate) in the East Indies, and most importantly a royalist governor of Denbigh Castle, who was known in old age as “Hen Hosanau Gleision,” which translates as “Old Blue Stockings.”  He is best known for his defence of Denbigh Castle for the royalist cause during the Civil War. Denbigh fell to the parliamentarians but not until  after six months under siege when he was ordered by the king to surrender.  

Denbigh Castle. Source: Cadw via Wikipedia

Inheriting the Rhug estate in 1611, William Salusbury found himself saddled with heavily encumbered estates, mortgaged to the hilt, and spent the next 30 years turning this situation around.  The chapel was built for his family’s private worship.  His religious preferences leaned towards the Anglican “high church” of Charles I, which accounts for the bright colours and the sense of celebration.  The services were carried out in Welsh, and many of the texts within the chapel are in Welsh as well as Latin.

On his death at the age of 80, having lived long enough to see the restoration of the monarchy, William left a deed of endowment dated 3rd January 1641 so that services should be maintained, and continue to be delivered in Welsh.  He also required that the curate was dedicated to the chapel and was not employed elsewhere as well.  The endowment was provided with portions of land that would provide the chapel with an income, managed by trustees.  The original requirements were ignored some time after William’s death, and the vicars of Corwen or Llangar usually took Rhug into their existing domains and delivered the service in English.  In the mid 19th Century an additional sum was bequeathed to the bishopric of St Asaph in order to reinforce the original stipend to the chaplain.

The Exterior

Approaching the church we paused at a tall cross, around 6ft (1.8m) tall, on a plinth and three steps.  This is not contemporary with the construction of the church, but predates it, having been brought by William Salusbury from Denbigh Castle.  Both the east window and the western door are accessorized with sculptural features.  At the east end these are two heads, one with a crown and one with a mitre; at the west end they are carved into a loosely floral or leafy motif. The tracery in the windows was a 19th century addition, as was the small belfry.

In the churchyard there is a circular fenced area with three large headstones, and two secondary ones.  These are headstones from the 1860s belonging to the Wynn family.  The central one features a lighthouse on top and a horseshoe at bottom left, belonging to a daughter who died after falling from her horse.  The lighthouse, of unusual four-sided construction, represents the one on Bardsey Island, once the property of the estate.

The church is surrounded by a lovely Potentilla hedged walkway.  Some of the Potentilla, yellow and white, was in flower.  I have never seen it used as hedging before, and it works beautifully.

The Interior

Open the door, and you will find yourself given the option of climbing a staircase to the gallery on the left, or opening interior doors to proceed in to the nave (main seating area) and the chancel beyond (the sacred east end) on your right.  The lighting is very low, so it is worth sitting in one of the many pews for a minute or two to let your eyes adjust, particularly if it is a bright day outside.  Upstairs, the gallery was probably used by musicians.  It provides a superb view of the ceiling and beam decoration.

The beams and trusses of the hammerbeam ceiling are painted with flowers, grapes and foliage in bright colours. One of the cross-beams shows the date of construction, 1637.  The 16 and 37 are either side of the abbreviation IHS, which stands for the first three letters of the name of  Jesus in Latin and is frequently sees on gravestones in the area.  The same IHS motif is found elsewhere in the church.  The beams themselves are painted with flowers and grapes vines that spread vigorously towards the painted sky. Ceiling bosses, wooden features that traditionally sit over the meeting of beams, are also beautifully painted with a variety of motifs.

 

Between the beams, the ceiling is also painted.  Over the nave the sinuous shapes emulate wispy clouds.  Over the chancel a “canopy of honour” is provided by a wonderful heavenly scene of angels and stars on a blue background.

Angels are a recurring theme in the small chapel, with four wooden sculpted angels suspended at the base of roof trusses and others decorating the fabulous wooden, candle-holding chandelier hanging from the centre of the church. 

The optimism of angels with their promise of heavenly mercy is balanced by the grim reality of impending death.  The skull and skeleton are accompanied by candles burning down, an hourglass with the sands draining, and a dial, both signifying the passing of time.  At the base of the dial the words “hora fugit” (the hour flies).  In the centre of the hourglass and dial is the phrase “ut hora sic vita” meaning “as with the hour, so with life.”  The welsh inscriptions below this are translated, courtesy of the Cadw guide book , as follows:

  • “as the flame gradually consumes the tallow of the lighted candle, so life on the orbit (earth) perishes daily” (from a 16th century carol)
  • “lifetime, however long its stay, will come to an end by night and by day” (from the Englynion y Misoedd, Stanzas of the Months)
  • “my nose and my face are perished, very dumb am I, no-one knows me” (from a poem attributed to Ieuan ap Rhydderch)
  • “every strong one is weak in the end” (a 16th century proverb)

One of the most celebrated features of the chapel is the frieze that runs at the top of both north and south walls, consisting of a series of rectangular pieces, highly coloured and very ornate, each showing a small creature at its centre, some identifiable as either from nature or myth, and one which is completely unidentifiable.

In the chancel, flanking the altar, are two unusual canopied benches looking rather like four-poster beds.  The role of these has been much-discussed and although it is not known exactly how they were used, a plausible suggestion is that at least one was a family pew.  The other might also have been a family pew but in the absence of a pulpit may have served as a place from which the service could be delivered.

The pews themselves were plain benches when the church was first built, but back rests were added a little later.  On each side, from front to back, each of the pews was connected with a single piece of wood, with scallop-shaped openings carved out to provide access to the pews.  Facing into the aisle, the sections between these access points are carved with images, quite difficult to see in the low light without a torch, depicting birds, animals and imaginary creatures.  The carvings were fairly difficult to make out in the light conditions on the day so I tortured the photos below both in the camera’s settings and in Photoshop.  Even so, they are still fuzzy.

The frieze along the top of the wall and the carvings on the side of the pews seem somewhat reminiscent of misericords.  Misericords at Chester Cathedral (from its monastery days), and both Gresford and Malpas parish churches are part of a Medieval tradition that includes the grotesque, the humorous, and the fabled in the holiest sanctuaries of their Christian homes.  Although the images at Rhug are at least two hundred years later than those at Chester Cathedral, they do echo this earlier medieval Catholic tradition of combining Christian icons and motifs with wild, mythological and completely invented imagery.  The world of the “other,” neither sublime heaven nor the realm of pedestrian human reality, is where demons, the unexplained and the unknown reside.  Positioning them alongside Christian images, like the pelican plucking her breast to feed her young (immediately above, a Christian symbol representing the sacrifice of Christ for humanity) emphasizes how humans negotiate a world of conflicting experiences and demands, opportunities and pitfalls, both natural and supernatural.  This glorious little chapel balances the beauty of nature, the strangeness of the unknown, the fear of impending death, and the promise of angelic eternity.

Additions and restoration work

Inevitably, some restoration work was required and there were a number of tweaks to William’s original vision.  In 1854-55 the bell turret was added by Sir Robert Vaughan, some floor tiles were laid in the nave and chancel, and a mock-Jacobean chancel screen incorporating a lectern were added (compensating for the lack of pulpit in the original church).  The windows were remodelled.  Originally, according to a visitor in 1849, the windows had mullions (vertical divisions), but no gothic style ornamental tracery.  All the windows now have tracery.  As in many small churches, a lean-to vestry was added to the north side.

The font, at the rear of the south side, was added in 1864. The altar itself, and the stained glass windows, belong to the later 19th century.  The window on the north side (right as you look down from the entrance) has a particularly Pre-Raphaelite look to it.

William’s architectural legacy has only been altered very slightly.  Rhug Chapel is now under the care of Cadw who have done a lot of work to make the chapel and its surrounding site a pleasure to visit.
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Visiting Rhug Chapel (and Llangar Church)

First, you need to check the opening times, as the Rhug Chapel and Llangar Church are only open on certain days, and are closed entirely over the winter period.

For Rhug the opening times and other details are available on the Cadw website: https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/rug-chapel. The chapel lies just off an A-road and has its own car park.   There are toilets and a picnic area, as well as a gift shop and a small exhibition area that is well worth visiting, which contains information about Rhug, Llangar and Gwydir Uchaf.  For those with unwilling legs there are no problems here.  From the car park to the church is all on the flat. You may not want to go upstairs to the gallery, because the steps are quite steep, but this will not spoil your visit.  There are no steps to access the gift shop or the small exhibit. For disabled access, see the Facilities section on the Rhug web page.

Llangar Church

If you want to visit Llangar Church at the same time, around a 10 minute drive away, its Cadw web page is at: https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/llangar-old-parish-church.  At the time of writing there is no information about facilities or disabled access on the above web page, but although I haven’t yet posted about Llangar Church following my visit (working on it) there is reasonable parking in a large layby opposite.  I would not recommend it for unwilling legs after rainfall, which was when I visited, because the entire approach (slippery farm track, muddy section after the farm track, and slippery gravestones laid as pathways) was causing people to slide and slip more than somewhat as they walked.  Like Rhug it is fine once inside, except for the stairs up to the gallery.  I would give it a flat negative for wheelchair access.

 

Caer Drewyn. Source: Peoples Collection

As you are leaving and are pulling out of the car park, pause before turning on to the road and take a moment to look up at the hill in front of you.  Towards the peak you can make out the fortifications of an Iron Age hillfort, the well-preserved Caer Drewyn.  The stone rubble perimeter that defines it is particularly clear in bright sunshine or under snow, but even in bland light you can still make it out.  The hillfort is open to the public and can be reached by a number of footpaths.  I’ve written about it on another post here.
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Sources

Books and papers

Yates, W.N. 1993. Rug Chapel, Llangar Church, Gwydir Uchaf Chapel.  Cadw

Although I haven’t yet managed to get hold of it Heather, the Cadw guide, also recommended R. Suggett’s Painted Temples: Wallpaintings and Rood-screens in Welsh Churches, 1200–1800. RCAHMW 2021

Websites

BasedInChurton
The splendid Grade-1 listed Llangar Church, Cynwyd, near Corwen
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/2023/09/30/the-splendid-grade-1-listed-llangar-church-cynwyd-near-corwen/

Coflein
Rug Chapel
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/43855/

Dictionary of Welsh Biography
SALUSBURY, SALESBURY family, of Rug and Bachymbyd
https://biography.wales/article/s-SALU-RUG-1525