The opportunity I had been waiting for – to  actually see the inside of the of the Mausoleum – had finally presented itself!

Down in darkest Kent they hold Heritage Open Days over 2 weekends in September.  This year was the first time I had experienced a full on version – so much to choose from! Climbing a 15^th century church tower, despite being scared of heights and having two people in separate queues at separate venues hinting darkly and saying ’You’ve heard the stories about St Bart’s Hospital…’  I had read about them in a book on haunted Rochester but they said no more despite my prompting.  It’s now being developed into luxury flats…..oo-er!

But the Darnley was finally open even if it was just for a couple of weekends. Sweet horse chestnuts were already dispersing their bounty as I walked up the slope from Kitchen Field, through the woods and onto the track that led to Mausoleum.  Little spiny green covers protecting the nut inside like tiny hedgehogs.   Then I encountered a herd of large Highland Cattle in Cobham Woods which surround the Mausoleum. They were all gathered under a spreading tree and had very large horns.  We regarded each other for a moment and then decided neither was a threat to the other.

As on previous visits, I was still surprised by the size of the building. It’s protected by a vandal proof railing and I felt very privileged as I climbed the front steps and greeted the two rangers at the top. I turned around.  The view was incredible and stretched on over to Essex. It’s on William’s Hill which is one of the highest points locally and I could see why it was suggested that it could become a viewing platform when it couldn’t be used for the purpose for which it was intended.  Somewhere in the greenery and trees was Repton’s Seat. Humphrey Repton was the landscape designer and the seat was created so that he could sit and look at the Mausoleum.  It’s out there somewhere in the woods….

I entered the upper chamber or chapel.  It was dark inside although the open door and the stained glass windows, or lunettes, above gave the alcoves shadows and an ethereal light.  A very tall tablet was in front of me with the Lord’s Prayer inscribed on it.  Burn marks from the attempt to blow the building up on Bonfire Night 1990 could still be seen in places on the brick faced Portland stone.  I thought that it might have Tardis like properties and be on larger on the inside than it was outside but no.  The atmosphere was solemn; this was very much a place of death and perhaps unrealised hopes.

A National Trust sign perched on the floor pointed out the problems with the Mausoleum in that condensation was building up in the lunette arches due, possibly, to its design.   

‘It was thought that the windows were originally intended to have air gaps to allow the natural circulation of air.   So, ventilation was being introduced into the outer windows so that they continue to protect but also allow air to circulate within the 12m high dome which was also being given a lime wash.’ 

Then I returned down the central steps, went around the side of the Mausoleum to the back.  A small flight of stairs took me down into what was originally envisaged to be the burial chamber beneath the chapel.  This was where the Earls of Darnley were supposed to eternally rest once the Mausoleum was consecrated. But, alas, it was never to be and the 24 loculi, or Latin for ‘small spaces’, have always been vacant.  Above the main loculi are smaller ones which were intended for children and indicates the mortality rate in Georgian England.  The coffins of the Earls of Darnley and their families would have been large and heavy.  This was because they had to be lead lined to stop the body fluids from seeping out.

It was whitewashed and plain and facing me was an apse, or recess, which contained a table on which it was intended that the coffins would sit.  It was a quiet, solemn and dignified space. As I stood there looking around, a small family entered.  The father soon waxed lyrical to the ranger about what he and his mates had got up to at the Mausoleum when it was a mysterious, vandalised building in the middle of thick woods.  I overheard him saying that they had slept in the loculi and believed that if you walked around it 7 times then you would die.  He obviously hadn’t as he was very much alive, but it was interesting to hear him talk about it as 7 is a sacred number.  One of the rangers upstairs had commented that visitors were telling them about swinging off ropes on the sides of the building and generally causing mayhem.  It would really have attracted bored teenagers: an abandoned building that was associated with death.  Although, under the circumstances, it was probably better that the Earls had been interred in the vaults of St Mary Magdalene church in Cobham with their memorials set outside against the back wall of the church and not in the Mausoleum.  Who know what might have happened to them.  But I felt that it was a much loved building and that the locals were proud of its metamorphosis from ruin to elegant Georgian monument and landmark.

It was the 3^rd Earl of Darnley whose will had provided the funds for building the mausoleum.  Previous Earls had been buried in Westminster Abbey but their vaults were full. So, he wanted them to be interred near their ancestral seat at nearby Cobham Hall.  The most fashionable architect of the day, James Wyatt, was engaged and it cost £9000 or £1million in today’s money.  But no Earl or member of his family was ever laid to rest there as Wyatt had made the Mausoleum replete with pagan symbols: the pyramid roof, the square, the circle and sarcophagi at each corner.  As a result, the Bishop of Rochester refused to consecrate it amid comments on ‘pagan arcadia.’

Feeling fit, despite my 90 minute walk to the Mausoleum from Cuxton station, I decided to carry on to Cobham village.  I encountered the cattle again although some had melted into the trees and then I walked on. And on. And on.  It was farther than I remembered although I spotted a detectorist in a field along the way going about his business.  And like most villages I have wandered through, the pubs outnumbered the shops.  Another Dickens association with a pub called The Leather Bottle which, according to their website, was ‘Charles Dickens favourite ale house in Cobham and a portrait of him adorns the pub sign.  It features in ‘the Pickwick Papers’ and yes, I knew I was in Dickens country again. 

The church has a commanding position within the village and more about it and its unrivalled collection of medieval brasses in a future post. It was well worth the walk!

On my way back from the village and the church, as I come into sight of the Mausoleum, the rangers waved and I climbed the steps again for a last look.  The late afternoon sun shone through the lunettes and created a lovely reflection on one of the chapel’s walls.  

As I walked back down to Cuxton rail station and feeling relieved that it would all be downhill, I reflected that this might be the only opportunity I would have to see inside the Mausoleum. The National Trust appear to be closing some of their properties and Owletts on the other side of Cobham is already closed.   

But this was such a wonderful way to spend a sunny September Sunday and although I was tempted, I resisted the urge to walk around it 7 times……..

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

References and further reading:

Darnley Mausoleum – Wikipedia

  Darnley Mausoleum | Discover Gravesham

The history of the Darnley Mausoleum | National Trust

Old Father Time on an almost horizontal headstone, Pluckley, Kent
©Carole Tyrrell

Ah, the perils of searching for symbols in old churchyards. I had to almost lie horizontally on the ground to take a photo of this one in the churchyard of St Nicholas, Pluckley, Kent.  I was a little nervous that the headstone would fall on top of me but what a headline that would have made!

At the time I had no idea what it represented and just thought it looked interesting.  In fact it wasn’t until much later when I’d had a chance to look at it properly that I realised the identity of the figure in the carving.  I then wished that I’d also taken a photo of the epitaph.

It is in fact a depiction of Old Father Time.  It’s a lovely example. As you can see he’s sitting with one hand holding a fearsome looking scythe with a bent and gnarled stem and the elbow of his other hand is resting on an hourglass.  He is a very old man with a white beard, large angel wings on his back and is flanked on either side by two angel heads.  What better symbol for a life that had ended?

So far I have only discovered a few other examples.  There is a 17^th century version on a tombstone in a Hendon churchyard and a huge, modern one again resting on an hourglass within Warzaw’s Powarzski cemetery.  I can’t show them in this blog as one is on a stock images library and so not royalty free and I am awaiting permission to use the other image.  However I found this one on Wikipedia but its location is not given.

We traditionally associate Old Father Time with the New Year celebrations. He is the representation of the outgoing Old Year welcoming in the New Year which is usually portrayed as a smiling baby.  But Father Time has also been described as a gentler version of the Grim Reaper as they share the same accoutrements of a scythe and hourglass.

He is considered to be the personification of age and is related to the ancient Greek god Chronos and also the Roman god Saturn. Father Time’s ageing, worn out body is a reminder that time ultimately devours all things and that none can escape.  The grains of sand in the hourglass count out not only his life but all lives.  Although he has a long, white beard, a sign of age, it has been interpreted as a reclamation of purity and innocence.  But, as the hourglass can be inverted, so can a new generation, the New Year, restore the source of physical vitality. However, time is not always destructive as it can also offer serenity and wisdom.

Cronos, from which chronology derives, was the ancient Greeks word for Time and the Romans knew him as Saturn. According to Wikipedia:

‘The ancient Greeks themselves began to confuse chronos, their word for time, with the agricultural god, Cronus, who had the attribute of a harvester’s sickle.  The Romans equated Cronos with Saturn, who also had a sickle and was treated as an old man, often with a crutch. The wings and hourglass were early Renaissance additions.’

The Roman Chronos was originally an Italian corn god known as the Sower and a big festival known as the Saturnalia was held to celebrate the harvest.   So there is a link between these ancient gods and Father Time in that they both symbolically harvest, or cut down the mature crops, to make way for the Spring’s new growth.

Father Time appears throughout many cultures and also in art, books and sculpture amongst others.  In one of Hogarth’s later work, The Bathos, he appears lying down surrounded by his familiar objects, all now broken.

But in St Nicholas’ churchyard  Old Father Time keeps an eternal watch over a life that has ended,  resting on a still crisply carved hourglass.  It is full, the scythe has harvested and so the endless cycle of life continues.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated

References and further reading:

Stories in Stone, Douglas Keister, Gibbs Smith, 2004

http://www.thecemeteryclub.com/symbols.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Father_Time

http://headstonesymbols.co.uk/

http://www.mortephotography.co.uk/index.asp?pageid=647016

Father Time & The Weeping Virgin

Bathos

https://www.novareinna.com/festive/oft.html

https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007%2F978-1-4612-6287-9_24

https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Father%20Time

http://www.speel.me.uk/gp/chyardmonsintro.htm

©Carole Tyrrell

It has been quite a week with a new Prime Minister and then the passing of Queen Elizabeth II at 96. The rituals and ceremonies of a Royal passing are now in place and we have a new king, King Charles III. It feels strange and it is a shock to realise that I will not see another Queen in my lifetime.

I feel that the Queen did an exemplary job and stayed true to her principles and faith throughout her astounding 70 year reign. As she said on becoming Queen after the death of her father, King George VI, ‘I declare before you all, that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong.‘

For most of us, she has always been there, clearly visible in her bright clothes and hats, and she did not have the option of saying ‘I don’t fancy it today, I think I’ll sleep in.’ The world has seen many changes during her reign and yet she always seemed to adapt to them.

The Platinum Jubilee was such fun and I hope that she enjoyed it. And this is how I would like to remember her.

Rest in peace Your Majesty, you’ve earned it. And Ma’am, thank you for everything.

©Text Carole Tyrrell

The churchyard – a place of skulls and spring flowers was definitely ready for its Spring mow. Shaggy grass peeped from between the monuments and memorials.  The 18^th century skulls grinned at me from small headstones clustered near the church entrance and there were several styles to choose from.  These ranged from a naïve version to more professionally carved ones.

However, there was a 17^th century table top tomb beside the church wall and also near the entrance It’s a helpfully low tomb in that it’s just the right height for sitting down on or standing on to look through the window above and inside the church. This tomb is dedicated to two of the Biggs brothers whose charitable enterprises still help those less fortunate in Fordwich to this day.  The Bigg brothers were Walter and Stephen who died in 1631 and 1646 respectively.  Inside St Mary’s, the bread shelves remain in place for the

‘loaf provided by Thomas Biggs (another brother who died in 1669) to be distributed weekly to the poor.’

A sort of 18th century food bank as the guidebook helpfully points out. More examples of their generosity are recorded on Benefaction boards by the tower arch.  The guidebook adds that:

‘Walter Bigg gave the income from land for the relief of poor and aged people in the parish and Stephen Bigg gave 20 shillings yearly for six poor householders in Fordwich and six in Sturry from land rent with the remainder to be used to put out poor boys and girls of each parish as apprentices. These bequests (including the bread) are still being fulfilled by the Fordwich United Charities.’

Frustratingly, I couldn’t find out much about the Bigg brothers but I will keep researching.

Spring flowers studded the grass: bluebells, dog violets and the bright yellow flowers of lesser celandine made splashes of colour amongst the memorials.  Spring is such a lovely time to be out church crawling, or steeple chasing, as Mother Nature begins to yawn and stretch and come back to life again.  A line of forget me nots led the way to a young child’s grave.  The rose on it was a poignant reminder of unrealised hopes.

But it was the skulls that caught my attention.  They were all clustered around the entrance, jostling for position as they reminded the parishioners to lead a godly life as they would one day be only a skull and crossbones.

As I rounded the corner of the church, I saw the River Stour in the distance and also a rug of wood anemones completely covering the flat top of another grave.  They are one of my favourite Spring flowers and nearby was another rug but this time it was of primroses, yellow and pink.  Cuckoo flowers with their delicate, pale pink flowers lifted their heads up to the sun.  They are an important feed plant for both the Orange Tip and Green veined White butterflies.  Cuckoo flowers are also known as ‘lady’s smock’ and their arrival is thought to coincide with the arrival of the first cuckoo hence the name.

The more modern section of the churchyard was beside the river and these headstones featured kingfishers and daffodils.  There are several meanings attributed to daffodils and these include Memory. There was also a man swimming on one of them and I wondered what it meant. This was proof that people, even now, want to leave a message for those left behind.

As I finally left St Mary’s and walked back down the path, I spotted a lone headstone, set apart from the others, and in a very different style.  It was a winged skull and reminded me of the ones that I’d seen in photographs from ancient New England churchyards.

However, I forgot to keep a lookout for the rumoured ghost that is supposed to patrol this quiet corner of Fordwich.  It is as the guidebook says:

‘Colonel Samuel Short, Lord of the Manor, who died in 1716, and it is his ghost that is said to still walk by the church gate.’

I then moved onto the church in Sturry that I’d seen from the bus and …what delights I found there…

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

References and further reading:

Guidebook to St Mary’s Fordwich, Kent published by the Churches Conservation Trust

https://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-kent/vol9/pp56-67

Home

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fordwich

https://www.kentlive.news/news/kent-news/fordwich-fascinating-story-behind-medieval-4533509

Fordwich United Charities

https://www.brunningandprice.co.uk/georgeanddragon/history/ ( some interesting facts about Fordwich and its history)

Spring may seem a distant memory now that we are in the middle of a summer heatwave but this may bring back memories of sunny but more bearable days at Easter….

When I stepped into St Mary the Virgin’s church, I knew immediately that I was in a very special place.  It held the history of a community within it:  help for the poorer parishioners over the centuries and the still to be seen traces of the medieval church.  But so much had been left untouched, it was almost like walking into a time capsule.

From the mysterious tomb, rumoured to be that of a local saint, to the remnants of the Great Rood and evidence of the charity, still in use today, instituted by two brothers who lie in the churchyard, I could see how much the little church had meant, and continues to mean to the little village (well, hamlet really) of Fordwich

Although now closed for services and managed by the Churches Conservation Trusts (CCT), it nestles in its churchyard with the River Stour running alongside the churchyard behind it.  It was photos of the headstones in the churchyard on Facebook that had attracted me here and Easter had seemed a good time to visit.   Despite the bus driver saying that she had never heard of Fordwich Road despite it being on the timetable, I spotted the sign announcing ‘Historic Church’ and, once in the village, I was directed to St Mary’s by a friendly couple and their smiling, fluffball of a dog.   Church crawling, or steeple chasing 2022, had begun!  And I had already noted another possible church to explore from the bus as we trundled through Sturry, just outside Canterbury.

Although, as Fordwich proudly boasts on its town sign, it is England’s smallest town with only 300 residents it has been connected with Canterbury for centuries. 

According to the guidebook:

‘Fordwich once served as the port for Canterbury and was part of the Cinque Port of Sandwich. It  still takes part in the annual ceremony of paying its Ship money.  In the 15^th century, there are payments for the shipment of over 400 tons of stone from Sandwich to Fordwich to build the south west tower of Canterbury Cathedral.’

It may seem strange to describe an inland hamlet as a port but in Roman times, Thanet was an island and the sea came up to Canterbury and could be navigated as far as Fordwich.  However, it became silted up and by the 17^th century was no longer a port.  In fact in 1830, it ceased being a port altogether with the coming of the railway.

Spreading, tall yew trees provided welcome shade, both along the path to the church door and in the churchyard.  An 1855 restoration was responsible for the shingled, splay footed tower but there were original features to be seen inside.

Box pews were still in place and these, prior to a collection plate or box going round, were once the source of a small regular income to the church.  They could be rented by individuals and families for their sole use.  A singers pew was still in place and the supports for the silver gilt Mayor’s mace were still there.  The mace now resides in a far safer place but returns to St Mary’s on Mayor’s Sunday.

The church interior is plain and peaceful and in the plaster of the main arch, the 10 Commandments are inscribed together with the coat of arms of King William II.  But this colourful addition from 1688 hides what is left of the medieval Rood.  The 14^th century chancel arch was filled in with plaster but before this it would have been the focal point of the church.  A Rood contained 3 figures: Christ crucified with his Mother and St John at the foot of the Cross.  The 17^th century iconoclasts and their determination to remove all idolatry from churches made their mark even here. Another reminder of St Mary’s links to Canterbury is the prominent and large alms box.  This was carved from an oak beam taken from Canterbury’s Guildhall to commemorate the 1953 Coronation.

But I felt that I might not be alone in St Mary’s as a sign announced  that Champers were in residence in the side chapel.  I paused but could hear no snoring.  It was good to see that Champing had returned to the church calendar and was happening at a church I might be able to get to.  Champing is an amalgam of ‘camping’ and ‘church’ and people pay to stay a night or more in a CCT church and I have been very tempted…

I began to tiptoe towards the legendary Fordwich stone which is alongside a side wall.  This stone has been traditionally known as St Augustine’s tomb. The guidebook informed me

‘is believed to have been in the form of a dummy tomb.’ 

It’s a large block of oolitic limestone, roughly 5.5. feet long and has moved several times.  In 1760, it went into the churchyard, according to the guidebook, and then onto Canterbury Cathedral before coming home to St Mary’s in 1877.  It is thought that relics of a saint may been placed beneath it.  The lovely carving on the stone dates from 1100 and

‘consists of interlaced Norman arches beneath scaly decorations’.

The font has a locking device on its lid to prevent baptismal water being ‘misappropriated.’ I wondered what the guidebook meant by that….

In addition St Mary’s has some gorgeous and rare stained glass, both medieval and 20^th century. I’ve only seen fragments of medieval glass in other churches so to see complete, quatre foil windows of it was a real treat.

And in the main aisle was a brass – I can remember when brass rubbing was all the rage in the 1970’s – dedicated to the very fashionably dressed, by 17^th century standards, Alpha Hawkins, who died aged 21 in 1605.

I left St Mary’s feeling curious about what it would be like to spend the night there…but the churchyard was calling and on such a lovely Spring day, I could no longer resist…..

Part 2 St Mary’s churchyard – the place of skulls and Spring flowers.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated

References and further reading:

St Mary’s Fordwich guidebook published by the Churches Conservation Trust

https://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-kent/vol9/pp56-67

Home

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fordwich

https://www.kentlive.news/news/kent-news/fordwich-fascinating-story-behind-medieval-4533509

‘A Life on the Ocean Wave?’  You could be forgiven for thinking this whenever you see an anchor on a headstone or monument and perhaps assume that it’s a mariner’s grave. But if it appears on a Commonwealth War Grave like this one in Brompton’s Cemetery then it will undoubtedly be on the grave of a naval man or woman.

But when it appears elsewhere then the anchor can have several other meanings.  It was a popular motif in the 19^th century and appears in many cemeteries.  This example comes from the churchyard of St John the Evangelist in Southend on Sea.

The definition of an anchor is that it is a heavy object made from metal and connected to a rope or chain which is then connected to a ship.  It holds the ship in place by digging into the seabed under the ship.  There is a metal shank with a ring at one end for the rope or chain and, at the other end, there are two flukes with barbs to dig into the seabed and it’s these that give the anchor its distinctive shape.

But, despite its popularity with the Victorians, the anchor symbol Is much, much older.  It was used by the ancient Christians in Rome prior to them adopting the fish symbol.  The anchor resembles a cross and so was a covert way of identifying other Christians.   It was seen as a metaphor for faith and steadfastness in that it grounds a ship and keeps it fixed in a secure place despite storms and bad weather and faith does the same thing by keeping the faithful grounded and secure during the difficult times in life.

The anchor appears in the New Testament of the Bible in Acts 27:13,17, 29-30 and 40. In Hebrews 6:18:19 it says:

‘That by two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God to lie, we might have a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us;

Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil’. King James Bible.

This is where hope and anchors become entwined and there are many pubs in the UK named ‘The Hope and Anchor.’  But more of Hope later.

In these examples, you can see that the anchor is very firmly chained to the cross and so to God.  The deceased believed in eternal life.  On the one below dedicated to the Maskelyne family, there is a well carved anchor with a rope attaching it to a cross.  This has been carved to resemble wood, perhaps Christ’s cross, and with ivy winding around it as a symbol of eternity.

However, I think that the wide spread use of the anchor during the 19^th century was due to an immensely popular hymn of the time which is still sung today and is one of the most well known in the English language.  It was written by a Sunday school teacher, Priscilla Jane Owen (1829-1907).

Will your anchor hold in the storms of life (We have an anchor)

Will your anchor hold in the storms of life,

When the clouds unfold their wings of strife?

When the strong tides lift, and the cables strain,

Will your anchor or firm remain?

We have an anchor that keeps the soul

Steadfast and sure while the billows roll,

Fastened to the Rock which cannot move,

Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.

It is safely moored, ‘twill the storm withstand,

For ‘tis well secured by the Saviour’s hand;

And the cables passed from His heart to mine,

Can defy the blast, through strength divine.

It will firmly hold in the straits of fear,

When the breakers have told the reef is near;

Though the tempest rave and the wild winds blow

Not an angry wave shall our bark o’erflow.

It will surely hold in the floods of death,

When the waters cold chill our latest breath;

On the rising tide it can never fail,

While our hopes abide within the veil.  

Note the reference to the Rock which appears in these two monuments.

On some of the monuments that I’ve seen, the chain to the anchor is broken and it’s difficult to know if this is deliberate to indicate that the deceased’s earthly life is over or just general wear and tear.

There have been other suggestions about the anchor motif in that it might have been a tribute to St Nicholas who was the patron saint of fishermen or to St Clement of Rome who was rumoured to have become a martyr by being tied to an anchor and drowned.  But there is no firm evidence of St Clement’s watery death.

Now let’s return to Hope.  She appears in cemeteries as the statue of a woman dressed in vaguely classical robes and holding an anchor in one hand.  This one is on a monument to Louisa Mutton in Brompton Cemetery.  Hope is one of the Seven Virtues of the Christian religion, and she is with Faith and Charity.  Note that her right arm is raised with the index finger pointing to Heaven and symbolising the pathway to Heaven.  The other example is from the Blondin monument in Kensal Green cemetery in which Hope does not have a raised arm but, instead, is looking heavenwards. So, Hope was the deceased’s way of telling those left behind that they were entering into eternal life.  According to Wikipedia, the earliest Hope statue was in Dublin in the 18^th century.  But there has also been a suggestion that Hope was influenced by the Statue of Liberty.

So, the Hope and Anchor have become entwined as examples of faith, steadfastness and a hope for an eternal life – a comforting message perhaps for both the deceased and those left behind.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

References and further reading:

https://www.karmaandluck.com/blogs/news/anchor-symbol-meaning

https://tuisnider.com/2020/04/01/anchors-symbol-cemeteries-graves/

https://symbolsarchive.com/anchor-symbol-history-meaning/

https://www.thoughtco.com/photo-gallery-of-cemetery-symbolism-4123061

https://symbolsproject.eu/explore/human/profession/civil/anchor-with-rope-or-chain.aspx

The Anchor – A Symbol of Hope {Day 2 of Practicing Hope}

https://www.gotquestions.org/anchor-in-the-Bible.html

https://quotesgram.com/bible-quotes-from-the-anchor/

https://www.hymnal.net/en/hymn/h/331

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Statue_of_Hope

https://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/Hebrews-6-18_6-19/

So far, during my explorations of churchyards and cemeteries, I have not yet found the name or initials of the stonemasons that created some of these beautiful carvings and symbols. In All Saints, Maidstone, however, there are two headstones dedicated to two stonemasons but they date from the 19^th century.

However, the image above came from the Twitter account of Andrew Ziminski who is a stonemason by profession and he said:

‘The font at Bridekirk, Cumbria with its Anglo/Norse runes read something like “Rikarth he made me and brought me to this splendour”. So not only do we know the name of the mason/carver but also what he looked like from his ‘selfie’ where he is busy with mallet & (huge) chisel. (Andrew Ziminski @natchjourneyman.)

The church in question is St Bridget’s in Bridekirk and this is what its website has to say about it:

 ‘An unusual feature is the font, possibly from the earlier church.(this may have been the one built in 1130).  It is 12th century and is described as ‘perhaps the most finished and perfect remains of Northern culture in the Kingdom.’ It was carved by Richard of Durham and shows how old Nordic influences continued after the Nordic conquest.  One side depicts Richard at work with his hammer and chisel carving a flower and leaf.  It has an inscription which read, ‘Richard he me wrought and to this beauty me brought.’ The decoration is runic.  It depicts the baptism of Christ, Adam and Eve as well as strange beasts.’

It is a beautiful piece of carving and still looks reasonably crisp after all these centuries.  These two photos of the font in situ give an idea of its size.   The font has 4 sides: east, west, north and south.   It’s the East side that has the Runic script which is a Germanic script form.  Runic script tends towards vertical symbols which enabled masons to carve into the grain of wood or stone.    Note the size of the mallet and chisel that Richard holds.

South face top panel:  This is a Greek cross with acanthus leaf decoration.  Again, the church guidebook suggests that ‘it may be derived from the Easter rite in which a plain cross was taken into the church  to be replaced by one with jewels and leaves to represent ‘Christ arisen.’

South face: lower panel: This features 2 types of griffin flanking a large floral roundel

These are some of the other images on the font:

West face upper panel: This has a headless centaur who has hold of the foreleg of another beat and on his right, an eagle is attacking him.

West face lower panel:  according to the guidebook, ‘this shows Adam and Eve being expelled from Eden by an angry God wielding a sword. Eve is at the foot of the tree but there is no serpent.’

https://www.geograph.org.uk/stufflist.php?label=Norman+Font&gridref=ny1133

And here is the font in all its glory with its lid although it’s obviously not the original.

This is an amazing survivor although Bridekirk is a little out of the way and maybe the 16^th century iconoclasts didn’t get up that far. A beautiful font and I will be looking at them more closely in future to see if I can identify another self-promoting medieval stone mason.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

Reference and further reading:

Bridekirk – St Bridget’s Church

https://www.bridekirkparish.org.uk/bridekirk-church

http://www.greatenglishchurches.co.uk/html/bridekirk.html

https://www.geograph.org.uk/stufflist.php?label=Norman+Font&gridref=ny1133

I was on a summer stroll on an early July day in 2017 in Kensal Green Cemetery when I noticed this symbol.  From where I was standing it resembled a mop head which had dried out and been left on top of a grave.  I was planning to carry on stalking obliging butterflies but curiosity got the better of me and I made my way over to the monument. It was then that I realised that the supposed mop head was in fact a beautifully sculpted wheatsheaf.

‘Had the deceased been a master baker?’ was my first thought as it’s a traditional symbol associated with them or perhaps a pub owner as you do see a lot of pubs called The Wheatsheaf. The epitaphs on both side of the tomb were virtually unreadable. However, on one side I could make out ‘Sarah’ and on the other ‘Milnes’. But more of the Milnes later as this family has a strong connection to Kensal Green Cemetery

A sheaf is a tied bunch of grain stalks after they have been harvested by hand with scythes. However with the advent of agricultural mechanisation it is now a bygone image. No-one has ever known the origins of this staple crop and so it has been regarded by many cultures as a gift from God.

The wheatsheaf and resurrection

However, the wheatsheaf symbol has always had strong associations with the theme of resurrection.

This seemingly humble grain has played its part in many funeral cults and mourning rites throughout ancient cultures. For example, the ancient Greeks and Romans regarded it as life springing from death or immortality. Priests are reputed to have sprinkled wheat flour on their victim’s head prior to sacrificing them.  Ceres and Demeter, the Greek and Roman goddesses of harvest and agriculture, often carried either a wheatsheaf or a harvester’s sickle.  Ancient Egypt was seen as the breadbasket of the ancient Mediterranean due to the volume of crops that it produced and Osiris, god of the underworld, was strongly associated with wheat within the context of a representation of rebirth.

Wheat is also important to the Christian religion with the Eucharist bread which represents the body of Christ and his sacrifice and also in remembrance of the Last Supper. There is the famous biblical quotation from Luke 22:19:

‘and he took bread and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which is given for you: do this in remembrance of me’ King James Bible.

When wheat is harvested the ground is left to lie still during the winter and then re-sown in the spring to begin the cycle of life again. Here it represents renewal and renewal as the cycle of seasons has once more given grain for bread.  There is also the association with the harvesting of years in that Death and his scythe prepare to reap at the end of life.

So there has always been an association with the wheatsheaf of resurrection and remembrance. This is where it is at its most powerful as a funerary symbol. However, Douglas Keister has also suggested that a wheatsheaf on a tombstone can indicate someone who

‘lived a long and fruitful life of more than seventy years and one that was harvested by the Reaper when it was time’

The wheatsheaf and the Victorian cult of mourning

According to the art of mourning website, the wheatsheaf was also a very popular motif in Victorian mourning jewellery.  In fact they have suggested that it could be seen as a memento mori in that it denotes life cut and renewal or resurrection of the soul.  Its heyday was during 1820-1860 and it also survived into early 20^th century mourning jewellery just as it was going out of fashion.  The wheatsheaf was often found in mourning wreaths, brooches, lockets and rings and was an effective emblem when working with hair to create these pieces.

There is also a stained glass window featuring a wheatsheaf at St Michael & All Angels in Eaton Bishop, Herefordshire but this may be a Victorian addition by Kempe after restoration.

But who lies under the Kensal Green wheatsheaf?

This grave contains 2 women who were, respectively, the first and second wives of the Victorian sculptor Thomas Milnes.  He is buried with his third and final wife elsewhere within Kensal Green cemetery under a far plainer stone. He certainly lived a long life – his dates are 21 December 1810 – 6 May 1888 but there’s no wheatsheaf on top of him. Milnes completed a number of funerary monuments which can be seen in churches in Gloucestershire, Cumbria and Suffolk and also statues which still stand in Norwich and Woolwich. Milnes exhibited statues and busts at the Royal Academy after entering its schools on 21 April 1841.  He also designed another monument in Kensal Green, the horse and child on top of Alfred Cooke, which, although damaged, is still in place.

However he wasn’t destined to became a major British sculptor despite, in 1858, being invited to design and model the four lions for the base of Nelson’s column.  It would have been the commission of a lifetime but his designs were deemed ‘unsuitable’ and the commission went to Sir Edwin Landseer’s monumental symbols of Empire instead.  However, Milnes lions which are, in my opinion, more lively and playful than Landseer’s can be seen in Saltaire, near Bradford.  After that he seems to have sunk in obscurity.

The ‘Sarah’ that is still legible on one side was Milnes’ first wife: Sarah Betsey Harrad. They married in London on 19 May 1836.   Sarah died on 1 April 1867 of ‘apoplexy’ which is now known as a stroke or cerebral haemorrhage.  Frances Eidsforth became his second wife on 16 July 1867 at St Georges, Bloomsbury and she died on 16 July 1875. She is buried with Sarah.

Milnes married his third and final wife, Jessie Anne Fletcher, on 1 June 1876 but there were no children from any of his marriages

Little seems to be known about either Sarah or Frances and it’s a real shame that their epitaphs, presumably on either side of the monument are now illegible.  However I would assume that the wheatsheaf placed on top of them is a symbol or resurrection and a hope that they would all meet again in eternity.

The wheatsheaf is remarkably well carved and has outlasted the epitaphs. It has been presumed  that it is by Milnes himself but no definite proof has been found to be able to attribute it to him with certainty.

There is another smaller wheatsheaf in Kensal Green which is on the Samuel Horsley memorial.

These two examples are from Oak Grove Cemetery, Fall River, Massachusetts, USA – I don’t have any further details on them unfortunately.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell otherwise stated

I am indebted to Henry Vivian-Neal from the Friends of Kensal Green Cemetery for the biographical details on Thomas Milnes.

References:

Douglas Keister, Stories in Stone: A field guide to cemetery symbolism and iconography, Gibbs Smith 2004

www.angelfire.com

https://friendsofoakgrovecemetery.org/category/victorian-funeral-symbolism/page/2/

http://artofmourning.com/2011/02/27/symbolism-sunday-wheat/

http://www.bbc.co.uk/london/content/articles/2005/05/10/victorian_memorial_symbols_feature.shtml

http://www.everlifememorials.com/v/headstones/cemetery-symbolism.htm

https://friendsofoakgrovecemetery.org/category/victorian-funeral-symbolism/page/2/

https://stoneletters.com/blog/gravestone-symbols

http://www.symbols.com/symbol/wheat

http://www.martin-nicholson.info/cemetery/cemeteryeatonb.htm

https://breadcakesandale.wordpress.com/2015/09/23/harvest-festival-wheat-sheaf-loaf/

http://sculpture.gla.ac.uk/view/person.php?id=msib7_1206548550

http://biblehub.com/luke/22-19.htm

http://www.saltairevillage.info/saltaire_history_0065_Thomas_Milnes_nearly_man_British_sculpture.html

http://www.victorianweb.org/sculpture/milnes/chron2.html

Although I didn’t see many symbols in St Mary’s churchyard in Higham that I hadn’t previously seen before, my attention was drawn to this one.  

It appears to be another version of the carving, although in far better condition, that I called Hebe after the Greek Goddess and first saw in the churchyard of All Saints, Frindsbury.   Higham is only, just under 3 miles, away from Frindsbury so a journeyman stonemason could probably walk or ride there in a day.

The one in Higham is on a in a unusual roundel on a headstone dedicated to Catherine Jamson who died on 26 August 1806 at 52.  It’s beautifully carved and still crisp but with its head missing.  There is an almost ghostly  impression of where it once was if you look closely.  It seems to be a clean break but is it vandalism, as they always like to go for the heads on statues or carvings, or just wear and tear over the years? We may never know.  In 2012, according to the Kent Archaeological Society, the epitaph read:

“While in this World I did Remain,
My Latter Days were Grief and Pain,
At Length the Lord did think it Best,
To Take me to a place of Rest”

Thomas Jamson is also buried with her and he died on 3 November 1828 aged 82 years.  He was a house carpenter and left a substantial will to his second wife.

In All Saints churchyard, Frindsbury, the headstone is a sad one as it is dedicated to Hannah Caryer, wife of John who died young aged 30 years in 1809.  John, her husband died later and also young aged 41 and their young son who predeceased his mother by 8 years. The Frindsbury Hebe still has its head although there has been some wear and tear over the years.  So could it be the same stonemason as they were itinerant craftsmen who travelled from parish to parish.  Sometimes you can see their work in several churchyards but of course it could be two separate stonemasons using the same symbol, perhaps from a pattern book of the time.  However, it’s interesting to note that both ladies died 3 years apart – a fashionable emblem at the time?

However, part of the pleasure of researching symbols in country churchyards is in attempting to identify an individual stonemason’s work.  I have not yet been lucky enough to find any signatures or identifying marks on carvings.  But maybe I’m not looking in the right places.  But this seems to be almost a coincidence that this symbol appears on the headstones of two women in the same area. Especially as it’s a pagan image, if it is Hebe the Greek goddess, in a Christian burial place.

Although I have found several occupations on headstones such as carpenter, caulker, baker and gunner, the only stonemasons grave I have found so far in All Saints churchyard in Maidstone. There are two of them and they date from the 19^th century.  But I am sure that I will find one that dates from an earlier period if wear and tear hasn’t got there first.

©Text and photo Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated

I am indebted to the Kent Archaeological Society athttps://www.kentarchaeology.org.uk/ for the epitaph on Catherine Jamson’s headstone.

Yes, it’s been seven years since shadowsflyaway began – during which I have visited so many churchyards and cemeteries looking for symbols and interesting stories and, often, I may spot a symbol from a bus or a train and feel compelled to immediately get off and go back to see what it is. It has been fascinating to be able to see how symbols have evolved over the centuries and the way that people want to use them to define themselves after death. Even if it is just the passing visitor stopping to look and then asking themselves ‘Why on earth did they choose that?’

So here’s to another year of shadowsflyaway and unearthing more hidden gems in country churchyards and city cemeteries. Let’s raise our virtual glasses of champagne, or whatever else you choose, and drink a toast to us all. And with symbol finding, I still have a death weekend in Edinburgh to plan……

Best wishes to you all!