Ilsington Church of St Michael Description
- A beautiful large Dartmoor church
- A fine porch
- Rare medieval carvings of saints and angels around the central crossing
- A few very classy medieval bench ends
- The remnants of a good 16th century rood screen
- A fantastic variety of medieval roof bosses
- Some lovely Victorian stained glass
- And an enchanting 20th century stained glass window of St Francis
- This is a most excellent church indeed
Ilsington Church of St Michael
There is something special about Dartmoor churches on top of the world as they are, granite carved from the granite moor, even up here on this hard land folk desired wonder, awe and beauty, to live with God’s creations.
And Ilsington church does not disappoint, no sirree, no disappointment at all.
For one thing it has transepts as well as aisle chapels, which is a bit like having a double helping of ice cream, for another it sits in a wonderful churchyard, and of course there is more.
The dating? Nave, chancel and transepts are thirteenth or fourteenth century, renovation and addition of aisles and chapel about a hundred years later. The tower also came in the later stage, at least in its present format.
Mind you, there was a church mentioned here in an 1187 document.
Here is deep history.
A very fine porch indeed
The porch was probably built with the aisle, or even slightly after, and it is a solid beauty. Simple carved doorway with strong buttresses and those three image niches with chunky hood moulds (the things across the top of each niche) have a lot of presence.
And oh look! Instead of a relieving arch over the doorway they have just popped in a massive block of granite taken straight off the moors. Take that, effete lowlanders!
The lower lefthand niche’s hoodmould has ’S’ and ‘A’ carved on each side, presumably St Ann, the Virgin Mary’s mother, so the top one might well have been reserved for a little statuette of Mary herself. It certainly has the fancy carved hoodmould that she deserves.
There are stairs on the inside for accessing the second floor, and often this area was living accommodation for a chantry priest, who was paid to say the daily offices (church services) at a chapel for the deceased in the church.
Inside Ilsington Church of St Michael
This is a large church, at one point Ilsington was mighty wealthy from wool, tin and whatever else it could sell to the burgeoning Late Medieval economy of South Devon.
There is a mighty impressive roof too, especially that bit of ceiling where the transepts meet the join of the nave and chancel. Huge timbers curve above the crossing, probably the original timbers at that; there is another somewhat similar at Luppitt church, original as well, though that one has lost its infilling plaster.
A transept tale
Those transepts, the north one can be seen above, there is a tale here of indulgent opulence…
…I saw there two gorgeously fitted up transepts, more like apartments, with cushions, kneeling hassocks, carpets, red moreen [thick wool] curtains screening its occupants from the congregation, its occupants having a small door to enter into the chancel.
Western Times, Letter: 05/11/1859
And probably a brazier in there for warmth with maybe a tipple or three and a snack.
This gives us an indication of how socially differentiated by class and wealth churches must have been back in the eighteenth century; this was a hangover from that era for sure, Ilsington probably not on the forefront of change at that time.
Yet the writer goes on to state that in another nearby moorland church, South Bovey…
The congregation are all mixed together in open seats
ibid.
Which was a more modern approach.
Oh well, Ilsington got there in the end.
Carvings around the crossing
To get back to that crossing, where the transepts meet the nave and chancel, there is more going on there than in most Dartmoor churches, angels for one thing, glorious medieval angels.
This one here has had its wings renewed.
Whilst we can admire the age and grace of such darlings, deservedly so, have look on the right, if you fancy, at the massive joinery work required to support them; they must be some weight and the joiners have done a most excellent job keeping them flying over the church for over five hundred years.
Without a doubt they unhitch themselves at the end of each day and go soaring over the moors, gently scattering the good news of the Love of God into the hearts of the moor folk safely asleep in their scattered abodes.
Saints say hello too
To keep them company are these sweet carvings, apostles or saints as they are; this lad could be St James or St Jude… I would lean to the side of St James with his pilgrim staff.
Originally they would have been coloured, there are traces of red on the angels and on this lad; unlikely though to have been a single colour, the red, if not a later wash, was probably the undercoat for various other colours or even some gilding.
What a sight they must have been! What a sight they are!
Beautiful bench ends
And what a sight these bench ends are, richly carved and of a style unique in Devon, once again probably underlining the wealth of this parish back in the day.
They are missing the foliage edging, the religious symbols and flowing gothicry of so many of our bench carvings, but they certainly make a strong, solid statement and they even have poppyheads, which is another rarity for Devon.
The term ‘poppyhead’ likely comes from the French ‘poupée’ meaning doll, or small figure; originally in other areas of the country small figures were very common in this position, here though it is Gothic carving and very nice indeed with it.
Four Evangelists symbols
Though they do have the Four Evangelist symbols carved lower down, here the winged lion of Mark and the winged ox of Luke.
They might have been a prayer desk of a major landowner or the priest, or the whole might have been assembled from Medieval bench ends when the seating was changed.
The Medieval rood screen
They are positioned just in front of this glorious rood screen, considerably restored, still packing a considerable punch.
Most experts date it at 1530 or after, that 1530 being a starting point not a firmness.
… in a good state of preservation, but has been choked and disfigured with paint, and the figures of the Saints in its lower panels have been effaced.
Ashburton and its Neighbourhood, Charles Worthy, 1875
There is still a pure gracefulness flowing from its arches and tracery, supported by the wainscoting carving…
The carving in close up
And a closer look reveals the wonderful sinuously labyrinthine cornice carving and the gorgeous detailed work in the centre of the quatrefoils, those ‘four leafed’ carvings next to the arches.
It is joy from afar and more so up close.
The Ilsington chancel
The chancel is a beaut, with its glowing east window, light creeping though the south window and the pinkish-hued paint. A pure delight.
A fine east window
While that east window is a perfect example of certain genre in Victorian stained glass, very medieval derived, very colourful, and very contemplative.
The canopies above the figures are totally gothic, with their arches and those crocketted finials ending in a flower unfolding at the very top. The colours… well, living with this would be like living with Christmas every day, in a good way.
As my bestest fave philosopher Paris Hilton once said:
Some girls are just born with glitter in their veins
And some of these Victorian stained glass designers seem to have had right glittery veins with technicolour braincells joining in the fun.
Though there was method in their glory, this style was not affective, was not designed to capture the emotions, other designers could do that, this genre was meant to be a starting point for the contemplation if not analysis of the subjects and their meanings.
A fine memorial
Just as this slate tomb-slab would have been, but in this case the splendiferousness of the carving is dumbfounding.
It is such fun as well as being mighty skilled and I love it.
Roof bosses galore
Meanwhile more Late Medieval carving is up on the roof, these roof bosses, painted red according to a visitor in 1847 but whether this was the original colouring we do not know.
Top left is the boss over the central crossing, a lion over a boar, could be heraldry but more likely here the lion is Christ and
‘In the spiritual sense the boar means the devil because of its fierceness and strength’
Bestiary, Barber: 1992 via Sue Andrews
The lady top right might be a symbol of pride and vanity, though allied with the bearded geezer, God likely enough, she could well be Mary Queen of Heaven with her crown.
And the bottom right is the famous Three Hares symbol found in a few churches on and around Dartmoor, maybe about lust or maybe the Holy Trinity.
But our interpretations are just that, interpretations, and we might never know what they meant in the hearts of the original viewers, those of deep faith and an instinctive understanding of the visual grammar surrounding them in a church and outside as well.
To guess their meaning now seems almost to miss the point; it is the scent of unfolding mysteries drifting down to envelope us in wonder and joy that moves our hearts.
An eagle and a hare
Here an eagle pounces on a hare, or is it a coney, the original name for a rabbit?
Some folk suggest it is Christ the Eagle defeating the hare of lust, others that the eagle represents spiritual rebirth in Christ defeating lust again; I suspect that Medieval folk would gaze at this and let the meanings filter through their being as a kind of prayer, to show them better ways to follow the Path of Christ.
And a goat
While here a goat with a tree or plant behind (or possibly winged but I suspect not). It is a lovely carving, capturing the movement and vitality of these animals, ready to bounce up a mountain or two as the fancy takes them; not like Monsieur Sheep, a far more placid and controllable critter.
There is no accepted interpretation for this image, but the most likely, I venture, is the use of goats in the bible, in Leviticus. They were sin offerings and they could carry away communal sins.
Here is God giving instructions about what the High Priest is to do
He is to lay both hands on the head of the live goat and confess over it all the wickedness and rebellion of the Israelites—all their sins—and put them on the goat’s head. He shall send the goat away into the wilderness in the care of someone appointed for the task. The goat will carry on itself all their sins to a remote place; and the man shall release it in the wilderness.
Leviticus 16:21-22
But Christ was seen as the scapegoat, bearing the sins of mankind, the Original Sin itself, Adam and Eve’s rejection of God, and atoning by being sent to the desert of Death, painfully so. Only he went off script, sneered at death, and popped up all resurrected, offering us the same deal if we followed the path of the Divine, a path that he had been talking about for three years or so but hardly anyone had really taken to heart (his Mum had, mums eh!). Until that resurrection thing.
And behind the goat here is a tree, very like medieval carvings of the Tree of Life in Devon, and the Tree of Life is a symbol for Christ.
So this, I venture cautiously, represents Christ’s sacrifice for humanity’s original sin, which sounds like it might be a bit of a complicated interpretation for a Dartmoor parish but it would only take a sermon or three, repeated (sermons were in English),for the symbolism to stick in the congregations’ hearts.
Even more fun is the fact that goats seem to have been a thing around Islington, at least way, way back in the day. There is a place called Gavrick in the parish, now woodland, which comes from the Celtic word ‘gaver’ meaning goat.
While in the Domesday book moorland manors had far more goats than those in the other areas of Devon, doubtless owing to the scrubby countryside. Whether this has any bearing on the goat here is open to question, but I venture a cautious yes.
A pretty enchantment
While here, jumping to the twentieth century, is a charm of an altar back in a transept chapel, a fine sweetness indeed.
St Francis in marvellous stained glass
Keeping to the twentieth century theme is this St Francis window by George Cooper-Abbs, a really very good indeed designer who worked for Wippells of Exeter. His work is found around the country, but for obvious reasons a large proportion is in Devon.
Apparently he was a modest man and a committed Christian, and this shines through his work so well. Here St Francis is in a formal pose surrounded by the wonders of nature, the whole with deep glowing colours and the textured glass using the outside greenery as natural backdrop.
Creation’s little wonders
There is so much marvellous detail too, here are just four samples of the critters he included, from a humble snail to an inquisitive hedgehog. Have a look for the caterpillar if you are in the church, there is so much to discover in the window.
More beautiful stained glass
From an earlier window these faces have wonderful depth, age and experience, enthused with compassion and humility, folk deep into their spiritual path understanding that without God they are nothing.
A gorgeous rose
Whilst this frippery, boy oh boy is it not an enchantment!? That pinkish-red rose surrounded by those gorgeous shades of green, a five-petalled rose too which traditionally represents the Virgin Mary.
Totally bewitching.
Serene St Michael
And St Michael, the church’s patron, stands quietly in the chancel, gently overseeing all the beauty and prettiness in this marvellous church, playing with shadows and light as only an angel can.
It is easy to concentrate on the treasures in a church, our Devon churches have so many, and yet the space, the sounds, the scents, the textures, the bigger picture is always around us when we visit and always of the utmost importance.
Alongside the landscapes outside; here the little village surrounded by rough fields merging into the high moors, a special breed of men to live here, a very special church built here…
A mighty special parish for St Michael to spread his wings over, love and compassion floating down, folk dreaming deep of love and wonder as they go about their daily lives.
