EXTRAORDINARY, BEAUTIFUL and BELEAGURED: IREBY OLD CHURCH

Photograph by Bill Birkett

In a remote corner of a remote parish known chiefly for its association with the most famous of all fox hunters, is one of the most remarkable and unfrequented buildings in the county, Ireby Old Church. Extraordinary, beautiful and beleaguered, it has stood in isolation surrounded by pasture and water-meadows for over 700 years. There is no direct road to it. It is reached from a narrow lane which runs between Ireby and Torpenhow, and from there on foot across the fields. The rectangular chancel, which sits heavy and squat, like a grounded ship within the remnants of an 18th century landscape, is all that remains of the medieval parish church. Described in 1965 as ‘unrecorded, completely unvisited, neglected and practically forgotten’ with even its dedication lost to memory, it is a remnant of what must, in its entirety, have been a very remarkable building.

 The situation of the old church is singular. The parish of Ireby consists of the villages of Ireby, High Ireby and the hamlet of Ruthwaite along with a few scattered houses and farms. It stands not only at some distance from any of these settlements but also on the very confines of the parish, separated from the parish of Torpenhow by a nearby stream. Three hundred years ago Dr John Waugh, chancellor of the diocese, remarked: ‘This church stands a mile from the town (a very poor, forsaken ancient market town) and nearer Uldale Church than their own … I have often gone by this church which looks very decent on the outside, but it is so far from any homes that I never got into it.’

Although it is now difficult to account for this isolation, the reasons having disappeared with the passing of so many centuries, the choice of site must have been a very deliberate one. A clue might lie in the presence of two cross bases within the graveyard, which pre-date the present mid-12th century building. The possibility that an early foundation had been established at Ireby and that an earlier church existed on the site remains. Cults associated with those semi-mythical 5th and 6th century Irish saints, Ninian, Patrick, Brigit and Bega had taken root in the area, and holy wells associated with them often became the sites of the first churches. At nearby Caldbeck the parish church of St Kentigern lies on the site of an earlier 6th century church and holy well dedicated to St. Mungo. But sadly, without the unearthing of the dedication of Ireby Old Church in some previously overlooked medieval document, we are unlikely ever to know.

In fact, little is known about the church until the early 18th century. Bishop Nicholson who visited in 1703, described it as brushed up in expectation of his visit, but still very tawdry. ‘There are no rails; and the floor is not half levell’d. There are in it three clumsie seats for the improprietor and the tenants of Prior Hall’. He continues, ‘The body of the church is pretty well seated; and somewhat beautify'd of late. The font stands in a corner; But order'd to be remov'd. The books are good. They want a flaggon for the wine at sacraments, and a platter for the bread. No book of homilies. One bell they have good; the other being broken and lost. Mr Ballantine petitions for a gallery; But will be slow in erecting it.’

The church records themselves provide us with no more than a list of the transgressions of the churchwardens who were reported as being in want of, amongst other things, books, a chest for alms, a coffer for the register book, and a ‘Bible of the new translation’. Other crimes included: the ploughing up of the churchyard, spreading of manure on the Lord’s Day and disturbing the minister ‘in time of divine service’, although with no indication of what form this took.

 At the end of the 18th century, the parishes’ most famous resident was John Peel, hunter of foxes, pine martens and the occasional blameless hare. Although baptised, married and buried at Caldbeck, John and his wife lived at Ruthwaite within the parish of Ireby and are likely from time to time to have attended this church. Better known for his regular attendance at the ‘Sun Inn’ in Ireby we can assume he was not a regular member of the congregation.

In 1846, when the new parish church of St James was built in the village of Ireby, the nave and north aisle of the old church were demolished and the stones from the nave reused to build the new church. The fabulous Norman font, piscina and some carvings were also removed to the new church and two nave arcade columns were taken to serve as gateposts in the village. After limited excavations in the 1930s to establish the plan of the building, the original column bases were uncovered and, in 1977, the octagonal monoliths of the N arcade were reinstated on their original medieval bases ‘as though awaiting Simeon the Stylite’ as Nickolaus Pevsner observed in his Buildings of England series.

 Unfortunately, what remained of the church, the chancel, underwent a drastic "restoration" at the hands of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners in 1880, and a good deal of the architectural history of the fabric obliterated. What has survived, and remains its outstanding feature is a beautiful late 12th century arcade in the east wall. This is an important example of the fleeting ‘Transitional’ period of architecture combining the semi-circular arch, a lingering relic of the departing Norman tradition, with the slender colonettes, capitals and bases of the Early English style.

Another fortunate survivor within the church is an early 17th-century tomb which piqued the curiosity not only of Bishop Nicolson in the early 18th century but also the antiquarians Joseph Nicholson and Richard Burn half a century later. It is divided into three panels, the centre one of which bears a shield with a heraldic device. Dated 1626, the inscription carved on its outer panels reads:

GEORGE CRAGE DE PRIOUR HALL. GENT. WHO FAITHFULLY SERVED QUEENE ELIZABETH, KING JAMES, PRINCE HENRY AND KING CHARLES, KING OF ENGLAND. 1626.

The somewhat unintended interest of this memorial lies less in the longevity and service of George Crage and more in its production and workmanship. There can be little doubt that it was carved by a local stonemason, who had limited experience of this type of work. The lettering is clumsy, the lines not having been set out in advance. The words, in some cases incomplete at the end of a line have had to be split and continued on the next. It is at first difficult to decipher and yet this is part of the charm of such individual memorials. Perhaps buried somewhere near to George Crage is the man who carved his tomb, though we are unlikely ever to know his name.

When we visited in the late summer, the surviving memorials within the graveyard, mostly fine 18th century headstones, with their attendant cherubs, scrolls, bosses and broken pediments, were drowned in deep grasses, nettles, meadowsweet and hemlock. These are the memorials to the Gilbanks family of Scawthwaite Close, the Walkers of Ruthwaite, the families of the tenants of Prior Hall and many others now indecipherable, their fine lines and formality softened by three centuries of rain and sun. Ireby Old Church is a remarkable place for many reasons, for its antiquity and architecture, its mystery and remoteness, its Orphean peace. If there are places which seem to sit outside our time, caught in a fold, unaffected by modernity and the breathless speed of change, places with an immersive stillness, this is one of them. In 1972 it was finally declared redundant and is now, thankfully, in the care of the Churches Conservation Trust.

First published in Cumbria magazine December 2022.