The font in St Peter’s Church has a very curious feature: it is really two fonts. It would appear that the base of the octagonal font was the top part of another older mid-14th century font. This base has been cut down showing only the upper half of eight sunken panels which are carved with various figures. One of the figures, below an ogee arch, shows the top half of a head which is believed to be a “green man”. If so, this is an example of how a feature of pagan culture – the fertility symbol - survived into the Christian period.
The Green Man on the font appears to have leaves for hair or is perhaps just peering out from dense foliage. His lower face may have originally shown a vigorous leafy beard and perhaps a mouth disgorging fresh shoots.
The gargoyles that peer down at us from high up on the church roof are perhaps a more familiar sight.
They are rather obscured by the large basins that are fixed to the top of the drainpipes. Most people know that these frightening carved stone faces with a spout were designed to convey rainwater away from the side of the building to prevent erosion of the mortar and stonework. Apparently, the word “gargoyle” derives from the French “gargouille” and the Latin “gargula” meaning “throat” or “gullet”. Gurgling and gargling must have similar origins. The Felsham gargoyles are carbuncled and heavy jawed with strange scaly ears and are reminiscent of pictures of the jaws of hell. The frightening WENHASTON DOOM shows the damned being swallowed up by a vicious looking fish like monster.
It has been said that the purpose of gargoyles was to frighten away demons and other evil spirits.
Church porch |
Detail of carvings on porch archway |
Tongue-poking grotesque on Church doorway |
These strange illustrations may well have been representations of medieval folk activities which included dressing up in weird garb similar perhaps to features associated with our more familiar morris dancing groups.
I have recently visited the Villa d'Este near Rome with its incredible water features. This photo shows one of many biomorphic faces in the Garden of the Hundred Fountains with water gushing from its mouth. A little reminiscent of our Felsham grotesque?
Fountain in Villa d'Este, Italy |
Dragon sculpture on porch |
References:
Illustrated Guide to St Peter's Church, Felsham, Suffolk
Nikolaus Pevsner: "The buildings of England - Suffolk"
http://www.britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/en-280793-church-of-st-peter-felsham
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/outdoors/8049149/Gargoyles-The-monsters-of-rock.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gargoyle
http://www.wenhaston.net/doom/index.php
http://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/sacredtexts/luttrellpsalter.html
A useful description of the church's north porch can be found at
http://english-church-architecture.net/suffolk/f/felsham/felsham.htm
Hairy face carving on base of font |
I have seen it all.
In the beginning I lived in the wild and sacred wood
Hidden among oaken boles bearded with ivy I watched
With knotted eyes of furrowed brown the browsing
Snouts sweeping besom-like the musty floor of cracked acorns.
I have seen it all.
Then they took my free high heathen spirit open
To the canopied over-arching sky of dappled green
And enclosed me heavily in white stained stone
Under a carved canopy of heaving hammer-beams.
I have seen it all.
But I am dumb, my gaping mouth stuffed and gorged
With yellowing leaves of the Fall by dark figures who lift
The silvered chalice above the cope to the crossed form
Where the sun rises refracted through beaming glass.
I have seen it all.
The unlocking of the ashen lid to reveal the blesséd water
And the thrice dipping of the pulsing infant fontanel
And the thrice crossing at the chrisomed head, hands and soles
And the devilish screams as the North Door slams shut.
I have seen it all.
The souls harassed by thoughts of unpurged purgatory
Buying their heaven-ward hopes by willing the sheltering porch
Of crusted grey flint and buttressed stone enlivened
With gruesome grotesques and roses repeated in roundels.
I have seen it all.
The stripping of the altars and the crash of statued-saints
As the Suffolk iconoclast with forked rod aloft wreaks his revenge
On suffering neighbours, now faceless and unknown, broken
And dejected where the pursed lips and narrowed brows berate.
I have seen it all.
But the tiled and trodden terra firma clogs my mouth and nose.
I stare out uncertain, half-submerged, trapped in my font of unknowing
What the shrouded future holds. The rivulet Rat is rising and threatens
The larches limply branching as the charcoal ash buds stir and die.
Christopher Bornett