We had assigned our second church, All Saints in the village of Piddletrenthide, to Mars, but nothing less warlike could you imagine than the tranquil stream and thatched cottages that surround one of the finest churches in the area.
Like the previous church, it has an inordinately tall tower, surmounted by more really intriguing gargoyles. Not for the first time, I am grateful for the long lens on the camera, which allows at least a glimpse of what is hiding in plain sight, just too high to see. It is an interesting church with a lot to see…
There is a plaque in the churchyard pointing out the Dumberfield graves… the family that was the inspiration for the D’Urberville family in Thomas Hardy’s book. Being a local man, Hardy crops up on many of the places we visited.
There are heraldic beasts perched on every protuberance around the exterior of the church… which, on closer inspection and in spite of their regal appearance, seem to be the symbols of the Evangelists… quite unusual they are too, given their placement. A sundial still casts a shadow to tell the time… and, like the one at Buckland Newton, it bears the ‘daisy-wheel’ symbol that had intrigued us at Cerne Abbas.
Beneath it, the Norman door is closed against the ingress of baby swallows. We watched their aerobatics… the parents seemed to be taking the babies out for a training flight and we were lucky enough to see them circling within the porch. For some reason, swallows seem to favour church porches as nesting places.
There are Norman carvings on the capitals of the pillars within the church too, but most of the present building dates back only to the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries… and was inevitably and heavily restored in 1852 by John Hicks, though he left the squint in place, through which worshippers in the side chapels could see the Host being raised and which, rather oddly, today seems one of the most vibrant details.
There are a number of very fine Victorian memorials, showing weeping women, broken pillars and all the usual visual tropes of grief from that era. Apart from their historical and artistic value, these elaborate memorials never draw me.
One memorial stood out, though, and that was a stained glass window dedicated to those fallen in battle, in memory of a young fusilier from the village killed, aged twenty-five, during WWII. He stands at the foot of the Cross, his sword has been laid down, and Jesus seems to look down with love and compassion.
Curiously, there are stars surrounding the Cross and, given some of the questions thrown up by our quest, this seemed appropriate. Another window shows the Christ within a vesica once more and the pulpit is carved with the hexagram.
All the stained glass, though, is magnificent, particularly the Madonna and Child and the West window in the Tower. The Madonna is one of the best I have seen, while the great West window is a wonderful depiction of the Ascension with attendant angels.
This church has everything going for it. All the right historical and architectural details, a literary association, wonderful glass, Norman carvings and an idyllic setting. As we gathered to meditate on the colours and symbolism of our attribution of this beautiful church, I could not help thinking how inappropriate it seemed to assign this place to Mars… or how right it felt.
When we had first visited the church, I had been excited about everything we saw… but somehow, the place left me cold. It spoke to the mind, but failed to touch the heart. The next church, however, would be the complete opposite…
The Giant and the Sun: Patterns in the landscape was the Silent Eye summer workshop weekend. These informal events are held several times every year and are open to all. You do not have to be a member to join us as we wander the rich landscape of Britain, visiting ancient, sacred and intriguing places. We seek out myth and mystery, exploring what the land and its stories can teach us about our own daily lives and our place in the intricate tapestry of human Being.
After each event, we publish an account of the places we have visited and share a little of what we have discussed during the course of the weekend to give a taste of what we do.
If you would like to join us for a wander through the mysteries and history of Britain, please visit our Events page.
Once again, it is a wonderful thing to be able to “travel” to all of these wonderful sites. Thank you all so much. I am so hungry to learn!
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I am happy to be able to share these places 🙂
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Magnificent!
Thank you for “taking us with you” via your blog.
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Thank you… I love being able to do so 🙂
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Another interesting church. As always you find the small things others, including myself, would miss. I love that the swallows build their nests there.
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Seeing the birds nesting, Darlene, always feels as if Nature is giving Her own blessing 🙂
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Another magnificent virtual tour, Sue. Thank you!
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Thanks, Jennie. I am glad you are enjoying the journey 🙂
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I am! 😀
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Fascinating, Sue, especially your cmment about being left cold by this church. Love the swallows anmd I am rather taken by the marble monument you’ve shown. There’s something intriguing about her. Maybe it’s just that she looks rather beautiful.
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The artworks on the monuments were really beautiful… wonderful pieces of sculture in their own right. But no… thi sone didn’t do it for me …
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Reblogged this on Where Genres Collide.
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thanks for sharing, Traci x
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You’re welcome, Sue!
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🙂
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Reblogged this on Stuart France.
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Reblogged this on silverapplequeen.
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Since everything seems to have a duality to it, is it possible that the coldness of this church have come from it being redone, perhaps for the last time, during or shortly after WWII? The symbol of death with the skull and the wings seems very ominous too. It definitely brings a very different feelings than the other churches that are on the map. Thank you one and all.
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The winged skull was never designed to be ominous. There was trend for memento mori… reminders that all of us are mortal and will return to dust, regardless of whether we are high-born or low. Death removes such false values and only the soul remains. The wings represent the soul’s destiny and our capacity to rise above such petty definitions as wealth, class or station and, in the Christian tradition, to ascend to heaven. To modern eyes such a symbol does indeed seem ominous, as our ego-based society fears the dissolution of the personality at death, but in reality, this symbol is one of hope.
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