We gaze on wrecks of ornamented stones
John Clare, Crowland Abbey
I’ve run out of ideas for titles, so I’m drawing on the poetry of local “peasant poet” John Clare.
This is Crowland Abbey. It’s now the parish church of the town of Crowland in south Lincolnshire but it used to be an important religious community with large property interests. This came at a price, including a Viking raid, riots and law suits (often featuring the Abbots of Spalding and Peterborough) before Henry VIII finally dissolved it in 1539. This wasn’t something unique to Henry, as other countries had also seized monastic assets, including Sweden, Denmark and Switzerland.
Having already been used as the parish church for years, parts of the building were set aside as a church, whilst the rest was demolished and reused. Sorry I can’t be more precise, but as I can’t tell a nave from a narthex I’m obviously going to have to brush up on church architecture.
The quatrefoil shows scenes from the life of St Guthlac. He was a soldier and a member of the Mercian nobility who retired to the monastery of Repton at the age of 24. Two years later, in 699, he gave up this life to live at Crowland as a hermit. He wore skins and lived on bread and water, passed his time praying and battling demons and, eventually, died in 714.
Eventually a cult of St Guthlac developed and the abbey was built. A cynic would say that the two things were linked, as saints were big business in those days. If they could attract more people, they could attract more donations.
What is now the church was originally the north aisle. The other bits have gradually decayed, probably having suffered from Parliamentary bombardment in the siege of 1643. Oliver Cromwell is often blamed, but he wasn’t actually in command that day and as a I do feel that he gets blamed for more destruction than he actually accomplished. As it was 1720 before the nave roof actually fell in, it’s likely that time did as much damage as cannon balls. Let’s face it, the Victorians did more damage to churches than Cromwell ever did.
Despite all this, it’s still an imposing building, and much more dramatic with the ruins than it would be if it was just a neat and tidy church.
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How amazing to be in the presence of such beautiful stonework and history!!
Yes, we’re very lucky.
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I too enjoyed the additions to the weathercock.
They drove me mad by refusing to look at the camera. 🙂
They do it on purpose you know.
I’m glad to have that confirmed, I was beginning to think I may be paranoid.
Oh, when the saints…Lovely title, Derrick, borrowed from a fine poet. Ruins are fascinating. They have such a mood to them. On another subject…missed reading what you had for your dinner.
Are you mistaking me for another white-haired blogger? I’m the less hairy one. I had a pork and calabrese stir fry washed down with a nice cup of tea. 🙂
Oh, yes indeed! Silly me! Must be all that snow. It’s addling the brain 😉
There are worse things than being mistaken for Derrick! 🙂
More excellent photography
Thank you Derrick. 🙂
You won’t go far wrong with John Clare, a man who really knew the countryside and wildllfe.
I first read him when I was about 11, and made a bad selection of his poems. It’s taken a long time to get back to him but yes, I now share your opinion.
AWESOME!!!
Thank you. 🙂
I agree with you about the Victorians and their ‘restorations’! I like the photo of the jackdaws on the weathercock!
There were a few Jackdaws about – looking like specks on the screen. 🙂
I imagine there are all sorts of obscure saints I’ve never heard of, and Guthlac is certainly one! The church and environs are beautiful.
His sister Pega was also a saint – the village name of Peakirk is from Pega’s Kirk (Church). We aren’t short of obscure saints! 🙂
Oh my gosh, like Benedict and Scholastica. I suppose saints are actually everywhere. I think I’ve met some.
It was easier to be a saint in Saxon times. Didn’t know there were other brother and sister saints, but I do now! 🙂