Chulmleigh Church of St Mary Magdalene Description
- An ancient church in a hilltop village
- A wonderful Norman stone crucifix
- Very good Victorian carving by Harry Hems
- A fine Late Medieval rood screen
- Very good Late Medieval roof bosses
- Lots of enchanting Victorian stained glass
- A very nice Victorian chancel
Chulmleigh Church of St Mary Magdalene
Rattling along the Taw valley northwards to Barnstaple, Chulmleigh passes by in a flash of signposts pointing up the valley side, as if to a hinterland village lost in the deep rural since time began.
Which is as wrong as wrong can be. The valley road is only about two hundred years old, low roads were never a thing before, marsh and flooding being the usual culprits; Chulmleigh used to sit on the main route, a major town and and an ancient parish.
With of course a cracking church, this too with deep history.
The south porch
The present church is mainly fifteenth century, restored in the nineteenth century, and some evidence of a previous eleventh or twelfth century church before; likely enough a pre-Norman Saxon establishment was here before… Some claim it was a Saxon Minster, a centre of Christianity supporting a number of priests who preached in the surrounding countryside and cared for souls.
The jury is out on this claim, but we do know that it was a Collegiate Church later, with six canons or prebends, one of them being the bossman Rector, whose job was to maintain the cycle of services and devotions each and every day.
This sounds a bit of a cushy number, six dudes all for one altar, but it was not; there would have been a few altars scattered around the church, including the Lady Chapel, all with their correct cycle of services along with various festival and Holy Days to observe, plus chapels further afield to look after.
For all this, back in 1291, their taxable income was £8 13s 4d according to an assessment by Pope Nicolas IV, which is a good deal more than it sounds, probably does not take into account a fair amount of the tithes (paid in goods) and…
Well, not to claim that rural clergy might mislay some of their taxable income when quizzed by a foreign lord (anybody the other side of Exeter to be exact), but I do know Devon folk and I bet the Pope did not…
Chulmleigh Church entrance
And then there was another source of support
… the chapel of Our Lady in Chulmleigh was remembered in 1567 as having received ‘great’ oblations [offerings brought by pilgrims]
Medieval Chapels in Devon: Jeanne James
Which might or might not have been connected with that entrancement at the top of the door, above the nineteenth century woodwork.
The Chulmleigh crucifix
Because here is a little Crucifix, Christ on the Cross, with a background of what looks like grapevines (referring to the Eucharist and the Blood of Christ) and is that wheat up the top… ?
It is from a previous church, though the exact date is open to question. We can say for sure that this style, with feet side by side and upright body with arms outstretched, Christ on display and not hanging in agony on the Cross, is early. Norman is one possibility, though Saxon, whilst maybe somewhat less likely, is a definite contender.
We can see this is an early style of carving because European Christianity became, over time, more affective with…
… richly emotional, script-like texts that ask their readers to imagine themselves present at scenes of Christ’s suffering and to perform compassion for that suffering in a private drama of the heart.
Affective Meditation and the Invention of Medieval Compassion, Sarah McNamer
This was reflected in the images and statues of Christ in agony, Instruments of the Passion and the Grief of Mary amongst others that became more common as the Medieval trundled on… and that are relatively common in the surviving Late Medieval carvings in Devon churches.
This depiction comes from an earlier tradition, more Saxon influenced carving-wise, arguably more Orthodox influenced religion wise, which saw Christ’s Crucifixion and Resurrection as (amongst other things for sure) showing us how to be Divine by how he died as a human.
Here, in this facet of a complicated beauty, the Saxons and to a lesser extent the Normans, saw him as a heroic warrior, a king in the spiritual warfare that being a Christian entailed; after all, Christ did show us how to gain victory over death, the ultimate enemy.
A vision which this carving catches, a Victorious Christ, on the cross triumphantly, the ruler of Chaos, the bringer of everlasting life.
It is brilliant, especially when viewed with an understanding of the vision and faith that it solidifies.
Inside Chulmleigh Church
The church was drastically rebuilt in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in the Perpendicular style.
Light floods the large interior from the modern (for their time) windows, pillars soar and flow into elegant arches and a magnificent rood screen preens gloriously.
Lovely Victorian woodwork
But before the love-witterings of a medieval woodwork fanboy, a shout-out to the really very, very good Victorian carving…
The Neo-Gothic bench ends, for one, are very nice.
The seat-ends are deeply moulded and carved, and have a very rich effect indeed.
North Devon Journal: 10/09/1878
All by Harry Hems of Exeter, a deservedly famous carver with a deep knowledge of the medieval Devon woodworking tradition.
The fine pulpit
As here again, where his pulpit beautifully complements the sixteenth century rood screen behind it, monochrome bringing out the wonderful interplay of shapes and lines, flowing together as if long lost siblings.
Chulmleigh Church medieval rood screen
Whilst here the rood screen by itself shows its deep magnificence, carefully restored in 1914.
We even know who made it (John the Carver) and we have a record of a donation of £20 to the church in 1528 ‘to make there a rood loft’ by William Coxhead.
In 1887 it was said to be in ‘perfect condition’ with vaulting and cornices, but ‘painted white’, probably with lime wash, so the 1914 restoration might have been relatively minimal.
The vaulting
Here the underside of the vaulting with remarkable detail all over, repeated again and again; the spandrels, those areas between the actual vaulting ribs, are covered in stylised, or not so stylised, foliage and flowers.
Tiny bosses
Whilst the miniature bosses are works of art in themselves, every one different, every one enchanting.
And just to outline the work involved here alone, there are probably around seventy-five of these, all carved from fresh oak then gilded.
The gilding alone needed about five coats of prime and undercoat and only then could the gilt go on. The drying time of each coat was considerable, and everything, the tools, the brushes, the pigments, were created by hand, on the spot or nearby.
The whole was an enormous task.
Entangled grape vines
Whilst the cornice… Oh my, I need a lie down just thinking about the work involved, from the selection of the right oak onwards.
There is another layer too; this was all dedicated to the Divine, tools were blessed, prayed over, local folk donated not just money but food and drink, labour, accommodation, cloth…
And here, at the end, this staggeringly intricate carving, gorgeously coloured… For God.
Evangelists
On top of the screen are the Four Evangelists, here Saints Matthew and John.
They too are very good, with Matt’s angel giving him a telling off and Johnnie’s eagle somewhat smug.
Possibly seventeenth century Flemish, they were likely collected by a rector or local gent and installed here in the nineteenth century.
Chulmleigh Church sanctuary
The sanctuary here was played around with in the 1914 restoration work; that reredos (altar back) and window is Victorian for sure, but the floor used to be oak boards, the steps of Portland stone.
Good floor tiles
The floorboards were replaced with encaustic ties, almost a last hurrah of Victoriana and well worth time to enjoy.
They were one of the many Victorian creative wonders, an era of artistic triumph, and are made by inlaying coloured clays so as feet wear the tiles down the design remains fresh as a daisy.
The Victorians did not invent the technique, though they did misname it (in medieval times they were called ‘inlaid’ tiles) and they did learn to mass produce them and they did use the best designers to create such delight.
Those Portland steps… ? Replaced with Devon marble, a bit of a no brainer in this county!
The excellent lettering
And here on the reredos is this beautifully lettered creed, a statement of Christian belief, along with the Ten Commandments.
A most excellent aumbry
Whilst this aumbry, a place for storing the Eucharistic implements or sacred books, is a true beaut, recalling a miniature church with its columns (Devon marble, natch!), Gothic arch and tracery… the foliage carving below is an added bonus.
Though in truth the background… not sure what that is, it looks like a bit of wallpaper and might be a later addition.
Late Medieval roof bosses and angels
Looking up… well maybe we might wish we had not; a flood of roof boss faces, here just a few, and near all of them in various moments of deep unhappiness, from harsh pain to terrible horror.
The colouring is more recent, but back in the day they were also painted, making them easier to see, though that was unlikely to have been the primary purpose… Medieval folk just loved splashing colour everywhere for fun.
Praying often involved hands outstretched and looking upwards seeking the Divine (kneeling and sitting had its place of course). A lot of prayer was meditative, exploring the Divine and how to be closer, how to…
Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
Matthew 5:48
And here, on the roof, betwixt heaven and hell, are these poor souls devoid of the Divine, lost in the agony of grief.
Gazing at these, the desire to do better, to be more pure, to be a vehicle for love and compassion in the world… Passionate intensity deeply enfolded in a religion where forgiveness is infinite and love is unconditional.
Angels
Underlined by these coeval angels floating along the nave and chancel wall plates, reminding all that God is ever here, whispering winged love always.
Charming stained glass
And here, carrying on this message of the Divine entwined in our lives, our beings, are these charming little scenes, below larger images of Saints Cuthbert and Martin, two of three, in a window by Caroline Townshend from 1903.
Caroline later became a well-known Arts and Crafts stained glass artist, but this was her very first commission; her scenes here are described as ‘charming… with subtle colours’ by Pevsner, which I am not inclined to disagree with.
These images complement each individual saint shown above; Cuthbert was a famous wandering preacher thus the sower image, and Martin gave much to the poor and sick, thus the Good Samaritan.
A little leaven
The other lad is St Boniface, and under him is this cosy scene… He famously brought Christianity to the pagan Germanic tribes, thus the little leaven thing.
But the last quote seems wrong, or at least very arguably so… which is interesting of itself and not a game of Gotcha!.
It is probably a reference to Christ’s words in the gospels
The Kingdom of the heavens is like yeast, which a woman took and mixed into three measures of flour, until all of it was leavened.
Matthew 13:33 Trans David Bentley Hart
Which refers to the word of the Kingdom of Heaven spreading through the world from small beginnings just as a small amount of yeast leavens a mass of dough (three measures is about twenty-seven kilos), like the preaching of Boniface.
But the actual quote ‘A little leaven [yeast] leaveneth the whole lump’ comes from two letters of St Paul using what was probably a common proverb as a warning about letting corruption fester in the community; one condemning sexually immoral folk and one an alarm about a false preacher who was claiming that Christians should obey the Judaic Law.
The original proverb was likely enough similar to our own ‘one bad apple can spoil the whole barrel’ which can be traced back to the 1300s.
Still, the meaning in the glass is clearly positive and the picture is cute as cute can be, so Ms Caroline definitely gets an A++ pass here.
St Cecilia
There is so much more stained glass, mainly concentrating on the life of Christ.
Here a marvellous detail from a Nativity window, with angels really hitting the bop as they celebrate the birth of Christ; the most glorious jam session ever.
A beautiful Nativity
With another great use of colour, this time more ‘blocky’, in this Adoration of the Shepherds from 1974, with the colours being comparatively subdued except for Mary’s intense blue robe and a golden Baby Jesus, the gold brought out by the greyish cloth he lies on.
More too, with Jospeh standing so protectively above, Mary’s slight smile of love and the shepherd on the left calming his lamb with a touch whilst still awestruck by the Christ Child, caring always.
Real people
It is a fascinating church here, full of history from that crucifix onwards, with bewitching art and meaningful creativity, and here an adorable coda is this marvel, on a chair back I think.
Circa 1860-80, possibly it was carved on to a 17th century oak panel
Paul Fitzsimmons, Marham Church Antiques
Well described by an Insta commenter
19th century. There’s way too much knowingness involved here for anything earlier (the perspective of the floor, the peeling plaster exposing the bricks, the door ajar, that clock… ) even though the faces have an earlier look. Just a super-skilful and observant craftsman.
These are real people, one still in a working apron, showing his cards to the men behind him, or does he just need glasses, whilst the other card player is sitting alone, almost lonely in his hunched look.
There is a story here, one we can each imagine, and that is what makes it so good. It is not a static scene, it is something that we can share in, art rich with meaning and sense of place, carved with a grin by a local master.
A microcosm, if you will, of the church, beauty and meaning that sparks a conversation with us and in us, that leaves us changed, greatly or minutely, in ways that only we, each individual, can know and understand.
What wonder!
