Stoneleigh-in-Arden

Nowadays the “in-Arden” part of this village’s moniker is rarely used. When I was a naughty little snipe on a Birmingham council estate, though, what my teacher used to call “Leafy Warwickshire”, was another – better – world. Stratford-on-Avon, Wootton Wawen, Henley-in-Arden, with their ancient rural names these were the places of dreams. There was something curiously evocative about “In Arden”. To this day few words stir me more. So, Stoneleigh-in-Arden it is.

“Arden”, for those who are unfamiliar with it was the Forest of Arden. Like most forests it is now recognised more in concept than in reality, most having been lost. Like most ancient forests – Rockingham, Sherwood and the New Forest - however, it was a royal chase where a man could be hanged for killing a deer as the legend of Robin Hood records. They were about hunting, not just trees. It thrills my soul that the world’s greatest literary genius was a fellow Warwickshire man and that he set some of his plays in the Forest of Arden.

Stoneleigh is an ancient place; a royal manor even before the Norman Conquest. Henry I gave the church to the monastery at Kenilworth, another place that is an indelible part of our island history. The Domesday Survey in 1086 reveals that Stoneleigh had two priests. Of the church they served, however, nothing remains and it was almost certainly of wood and thatch

The transfer to Kenilworth, however, signalled the rebuilding of the church in stone at a time when the monastic orders were inclined to invest in the parish churches they acquired. Later the monasteries would treat them as milch cows to be stripped of most of their tithes to support their extravagant and ruinous ambitions.

The church we see today is largely the church that Kenilworth’s monks commissioned in the first half of the twelfth century. It was a conventional plan for its time with a nave, chancel and west tower. It was though, as Pevsner remarked, “ambitious for its date”. The chancel, in particular, is extensive. Yet externally it is of rather unprepossessing appearance. The north side is disfigured by the four-square carbuncle that is the nineteenth century Leigh Chapel. The south side has to contend with the south east chapel that would originally have been a perfectly harmonious addition to the church before someone decided inexplicably to raise its roof so that it dominates the whole southern vista. Just for good measure, a drastic lowering of the nave roofline makes the church look like some great creature has descended from on high and devoured a great chunk of the church. Sometimes you really do wonder what post-mediaeval builders “were on”.

Having demolished the church’s exterior (metaphorically, I hasten to add) it is time to talk of the many good things it has to offer. The first of these is the surviving Norman north doorway complete with decorative tympanum. This type of Midlands sandstone does not weather well so the doorway is in parlous state (are such things really impossible to protect with all of the technology available to us today?) but still of great interest. Pevsner with rather wearisome predictability calls the design “barbaric”. I’ve a feeling he means it as an insult but I like barbaric. Two dragons have their necks intertwined and are biting each others’ tails. Above this main motif two snakes do the same thing. I suppose evil is devouring itself? The capitals are slightly better preserved such that you can see the rather crude and utilitarian geometric decorations. Despite the depredations of the weather it remains a fine composition and worthy of going out of you way for.

This doorway, of course, prepares you for the fact that the fa蓷de conceals an interior of much more interest. The jewel in the crown is the chancel. A Norman chancel arch with several interesting features leads through to a chancel that is surrounded by a course of blind arcading with pointed arches and dogtooth moulding. This has been heavily restored but undoubtedly of original design and reminiscent of the fine chancel at Devizes in Wiltshire. It was not, sadly, vaulted as at Devizes or Tickencote in Rutland, but springers for vaulting are in evidence so it is generally believed that vaulting was originally intended but not executed. It is pure speculation on my part but I wonder if there was once vaulting but that it was replaced at the time when the east window was inserted? It does seem to me that the roof was raised substantially at some stage because it now is in line with the original roofline – visible on the west tower - of the nave itself . The window is in “Decorated” style although the Church Guide (which is remarkably well-written, if brief) says it was altered “beyond recognition” in the nineteenth century.

The chancel arch is a beauty. It lacks the extravagant flamboyance of some, but it does have some small carvings subtly concealed within its decoration. Unusual are the geometric designs “clasping” the upright columns rather in the way that beakheads – absent here – traditionally do on Norman. arches.

The church has a south aisle that was added in the fourteenth century in Decorated style. That leaves the west tower. It also was part of the Norman fabric as blocked Norman windows attest. The west wall, however, was rebuilt between 1300 and 1350 having been, it is believed, in danger of collapse. Buttresses were added at the corners. The wall was also moved slightly eastwards, no doubt out of architectural necessity, and so the tower is now slightly rectangular than square in plan. It is possible that, as in so many places, builders during the Gothic era placed too much strain on foundations designed for the original Norman church and not for additional aisles, clerestories and heightened towers. Undaunted, the masons added a belfry stage in the fifteenth century.

Finally, perhaps leaving the best to last, Stoneleigh has a fine Norman font. It is believed to have come from Maxstoke Priory after laying amongst its ruins for 250 years before replacing Stoneleigh’s original font sometime after 1803. If so, then it survived the weather remarkably well! The font has arcading containing images of each of the twelve apostles, complete with writing. It is worth comparing with similar fonts at Wansford in Northants and at Coleshill, also in Warwickshire. If Norman fonts are your “thing” (they are certainly one of mine) then Stoneleigh-in-Arden Church is well worth a visit for this alone.




	Left: The blocked north doorway. It is rather unsophisticated in its execution and it has suffered grievously over the centuries. Right: The tympanum reveals - just about - two dragons with intertwined necks biting each others’ tails. This is presumably some sort of allegory showing that evil wil destroy itself. Above it, are two intertwined snakes. That this piece of art, over one thousand years old, has been denied any kind of protection to the point of near-obliteration is a disgrace. I’m not blaming the local people who probably have their work cut out keeping the church weatherproof for this but surely our country can afford to protect its history better? I write this the day after some lunatic paid over ￡300 million for what is probably but not definitely a Da Vinci painting. God certainly “moves in mysterious ways”.


	Left and Right: The north doorway capitals show valiant attempts at decorative creativity on the part of the Norman masons but these were clearly not men of artistic talent! Look at the irregularity of the interlaced work.

Left: Looking towards the east, the chancel arch and the blind arcading beyond it tell you immediately that the church is a Norman foundation. Everything you see apart from the south aisle is essentially Norman. The nave is wide for its date. Note the nice box pews. Right: The chancel arch is simply decorated with zig zag moulding.

Left and Right: There has been a considerable amount of restoration work on the chancel’s blind arcading but, nevertheless, it is essentially original and, as always, very evocative of the Norman era. It is always interesting to see these blind pointed arches some fifty years before pointed Gothic windows and doorway would take Europe by storm. The idea had always been there but nobody in the west, it seems, understood its potential.

Left: The chancel arch, north column. The outer order has an unusual “clasping” design. Vertical zig zag mouldng is also unusual in a parish church. Note the bird design which is probably a dove of peace. Centre: The south column which has a serpent on show. Right: The clasping design.

The chancel arch responds have these two carvings hidden away and easily overlooked : a snake and a bird with very odd looking claws. The Church Guide believes this to be a dove carrying a leaf (from the story of Noah) that was my own initial impression. I imagine the same mason decorated the north doorway.

Carved feet of the chancel arch. On the right you can see an elaborate and distinctly botched snake carving. They seemed to like snakes at Stoneleigh!

Left: The view towards the west end is dominated by a rather overpowering combination of minstrels gallery and church organ. The organ dates from the eighteenth century. To the left is the south aisle which dates from around the fourteenth century and cut into the original Norman nave wall. Right: Looking into the somewhat under-sized chancel. The east window is in the Decorated style. You can see the cut down Norman columns. Pevsner saw it as proof that it was intended that it was intended for the chancel to be vaulted. Did the mason’s nerve fail them? To the left is the seventeenth century monument to Alice, Duchess Dudley and her daughter, Alicia. To the right you can just see the opening to nineteenth century vaulted tomb of Chandos, first Baron Leigh. Still further to the left in the foreground toy can see the entrance to Leigh Chapel built in the nineteenth century. This is a very “busy” little chancel!


	Left and Right: The alabaster tomb chest and niche of Chandos Leigh (d.1860). It is in faux thirteenth century style. To its left is the memorial to Chandos Baron Leigh who died at Bonn (what was he doing there?) in 1859. Oddly, Pevsner thought it was the tomb of Lady Leigh who in fact had it made for her husband.

Left: The north side of the chancel is dominated by this monument commemorating Alice Duchess Dudley and her daughter, Alicia. You might well wonder what became of Alice’s hubby? Duchess Dudley was the second wife wife of Sir Robert Dudley, who was the bastard son of the Earl of Leicester, also Sir Robert Dudley who was the favourite and probable lover of Elizabeth I. It seems he also inherited his father’s reckless nature and he was a noted explorer and cartographer, leading an expedition to the West Indies. Sir Robert inherited his father’s wealth, including Kenilworth Castle and tried unsuccessfully to to establish his legitimacy. In 1605 he abandoned Alice, left England accompanied by his cousin and lover, Elizabeth Southwell and went to live at the court of the Grand Duke of Tuscany.in Florence. Fascinatingly, Dudley was able to marry Elizabeth Southwell because the Pope ruled that his marriage to Alice under the auspices of the Church of England was invalid. Alice, was created Duchess of Dudley in her own right by Charles I before dying an very rich woman in 1668, at the ripe old age of ninety! Pavsner described the monument as “noble” and “too large for its position”. Well he got that second bit right !Right: The effigy of Alice (above) and Alicia. Pevsner reckoned it was probably all carved by Edward Marshall who made the monument to Alice’s sister at St Giles in the Fields in London.

Left: One of the fat little cherubs adorning Lady Dudley’s monument. And you thought childhood obesity was a modern thing? I cannot like this monument, I have to confess. It portends the neo-classical excesses of the Stuart era and beyond. Centre: The effigy of a fifteenth century priest, again in that busy, busy chancel. Right: The doorway to the (architecturally awful) vestry. It is in faux Transitional style that matches the restored niches around the altar.

Two views of the splendid Norman font. This is an elaborate piece. It is reckoned to have come from Maxstoke Priory and its quality which is way out of kilter with the rest of the building gives this theory strong credence. The weathering and damage suggests it may have spent some time in the open. The arcading is regular. The pillars of the arcading have decorated columns. Above the apostle figures there is neat wording which shows that the mason was either literate or - far more likely - had guidance from a monk who was so .Above all of that is another series of heads,

I reproduce nine of the apostle figures here (I have the others, as well I’m sure but I’ve lost track of them all. You expect me to identify then all? Well (left) we have the ever-identifiable St Peter clutching his key to the gates of heaven. That’s the easy one done. The writing, unfortunately, is fragmentary on most of the figures and the iconography is rather obscure. If you want more detail then I suggest you go to the splendid site of the “Corpus of Romanesque Architecture in Britain and Ireland” website at http://www.crsbi.ac.uk/site/1257/.

A couple of examples of the writing inscribed above the apostles.

Poor old Stoneleigh has not been treated with much respect externally. This particular flavour of Midlands sandstone lacks the attractive orange glow of some others and is more akin to a dirty brown. What’s more it is horribly vulnerable to the weather. Most of its problems, however, are man made. Left: The church ftom the south east is marred by the extraordinary tallness of the vestry. If you follow the lighter coloured string course you can see it was originally a perfectly well-proportioned chapel. Less obvious in this picture - but very visible in the headline picture at the top of this page - is the way the nave roofline has been drastically lowered and it looks like some giant has taken a big chunk out of the top of the church. Note the east window which is in the Decorated style but which was heavily altered in the Victorian era. Right: The church from the south west.

Left: Another view of the church from the north east showing very clearly the old roofline and the strange “something’s missing” appearance the church now has. The Leigh Chapel to the left with its severe rectangular look and its huge buttresses does no more favours to the church than the vestry does to the south. Right: Another view of the north side looking towards the nineteenth century Leigh Chapel.

Left: The tower from the west. In fact this is the only wall of the tower that is not part of the original Norman church. The Church Guide believes this wall to be from between 1300-1350 and to have been caused by collapse or danger of collapse. Centre: The tower from the north showing a blocked Norman window. Right: A wall tablet commemorating a man with a life well-lived.

Footnote: Life in Solw Lane

The north chapel houses a local History Society exhibition. I couldn’t resist reproducing this item. That’s what you get when you have illiterate sign painters.

Footnote 2 - Father Petrica Bistran

I revisited this church with a friend in January 2024, twelve years after my first visit. It was a Sunday morning and we had to wait for the 11.00 am service to finish before sidling in with that slightly apologetic air that you have when you want to just go in and take some photographs amongst people for whom this has been the week’s spiritual highlight.

All attempts at unobtrusiveness were immediately set at naught by the great big smile of the vicar as we went through the door. Father Petrica was a larger than life figure and nobody, Christian or not, was going to avoid his metaphorical welcoming arms. Not only were we welcome to take photographs, but it was his birthday. His congregation had laid on a buffet and drink and we were to partake of the celebrations. Being, you know, English, I took this as just being polite. Being, you know, Romanian, it turned out Petrica had meant it and after a few minutes of snapping pictures he insisted we take a drink and some food. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Drinking his wine and enjoying nibbles and birthday cake amongst the congregation, you couldn’t help being drawn into the warmth and joy of it all. Petrica had a word for everyone, knew their problems, gave them his attention. And they all loved him. As he clearly loved them. And, as part of this lovely little club, I think they all loved each other. He asked us if he would see us the following Sunday and we had to explain that we were a long way from home. I swear we both thought that if we had lived nearby we might have taken him up on it. If God is Love then God must love Stoneleigh.

It struck me that just as a school’s success is almost totally in the hands of the head teacher, a parish church’s success is similarly inextricably in the hands of the vicar. We do not live in mediaeval times: we do not need the colour and pomp of a church service to brighten our lives otherwise devoid of pleasure. If people don’t like the vicar they won’t go to his or her church. My admittedly limited circle of Christian friends and acquaintances would rather go to another church, or even to not go at all. They have many other diversions available.

I don’t think I am misrepresenting the view of many (I don’t claim all) parish churches when I say that the Church of England has engendered the belief that traditional parish churches are somehow a bit superfluous. Many feel under threat. Most suffer from vicars spread too thinly across ever-growing benefices. It seems that every other churchwarden I speak to reports that they are in between vicars. Often they are desperately trying to find money for repairs at the same time. Support from the centre is non-existent.

At Stoneleigh that Sunday in January 2024 I was not sure whether I was seeing the future of our parish churches or, depressingly, the past. These village institutions housed in their priceless historical buildings can only thrive with inspirational local leadership able to engage a population which has many other distractions. In Father Petrica Stoneleigh has that. Many reading this polemic will say that their churches have it too. I hope so. Rather more, I think, will feel wistful for times long gone from their localities.

Churches are not used car lots. They are not transactional. They don’t need “customers” or “footfall” or “turnover”. They are places for those who feel affinity with Christianity. Censuses tell us that many no longer believe in gods of any sort. Christianity, however, enjoys huge traditional goodwill within our country. Most village populations will not want to lose their parish churches any more than they did their Post Offices and pubs. To survive, though, they need priests that are leaders – men or women able to inspire a community and to mobilise and re-energise those many whose faith is mislaid, weak or vague. I am afraid knowledge of the Bible, doctrinal conformity and corporate line-toeing are not enough: priests need to love and be loved by their parishioners as much as they love their God.

That is the way to redemption for the Church of England and for its parish churches. “Initiatives” and reorganisations hatched in Canterbury by the archbishop and his dog-collared corporate sidekicks are not going to turn things around. Thousands of properly supported and motivated local clergy just might.

Petrica Bistran for Archbishop of Canterbury say I. On second thoughts I wouldn’t wish that on anybody!

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