Location: Puxton, Somerset
Dedication: Holy Saviour
Denomination: Church of England (CCT)
Features of Interest: Unrestored interior, leaning tower
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The church viewed form the south, showing the tower. | Taken 08/01/25
Puxton's little church is not one that can be found in a great number of gazetteers; its history is not entwined with world-shattering events, its untouched interior is devoid of outstanding examples of church furniture, its visage is not well-kept and postcard-perfect. However, one gazetteer in which it does appear is John Betjeman's Best British Churches, and for the sole reason of its incredibly enchanting atmosphere. I must agree with this judgement, as, humble as the church may be, it is decidedly delightful to visit and discover its history, which, while not as grand and storied as others, is still long and rich.
A church's origins are often murky, but in Puxton's case the village's origin itself is murky. The area seems to have been alternatively known as Wringmarsh in the 12th century, with its modern name, derived from the local land-owning Pukerel family, having emerged by at least the early 13th century. Thus, in the late 12th century it is known that Bruton Priory acquired a chapel at Wringmarsh, which probably refers to Puxton church. The church at this time (and for many centuries after) was a chapel of ease to the parish church at Banwell, meaning that it did not have its own parochial vicar and existed only as a convenient way for the villagers in Puxton to avoid having to make the 3 mile trek to Banwell in order to attend services. It eventually became its own separate parish in 1772.
It is possible that the current structure, a simple, aisleless building, has fabric dating back to its first appearance in records in the 12th century, but it has been quite thoroughly altered since this time and as such it is difficult to tell if anything of the original building remains at all. The windows have all been replaced at various times, with the northeastern nave window dating from the 14th century, the northwestern and southwestern nave windows dating from the 15th century, and the southeastern nave window, the largest and uncusped, possibly dating from the 16th century. The two stage tower was added in the 15th century; the soft ground caused it to begin leaning quite alarmingly westwards almost immediately during construction, and as a result it may not have been built as high as originally planned. The single bell and bellframe in the tower are contemporary with its construction.
One of the more curious features of the church is a low stone screen underneath the chancel arch; it is thought probable that this either supported a wooden rood screen and loft (surviving beams of the latter being visible in the north wall) or replaced them after the Reformation saw their destruction. If the first possibility is true, the stone screen is probably 15th or early 16th century, and in the latter case it would be later 16th century, or perhaps even Laudian (mid-17th century). I personally find the first idea most convincing, as there are clearly remains of a rood screen and loft in the church, and a stone support for the screen is, whilst rare, not totally unique, not even in the county, and may have acted as a sort of cantilever for the loft as the surviving timbers and blocked stairwell show that it projected quite far forward.
Set in the gable of the north porch are two stone fragments, the upper one showing the arms of the St. Loe family and the lower one bearing the date 1557. It is unclear whether this refers to the building date of the porch or to something else, as the stones are not in their original position and do not match up with each other exactly, but the architecture of the porch fits with this date and can be presumed to originate around this time if not in this exact year. The nave roof may have been replaced around this time as well, and later in the 17th century it was tiled with stone. Further modifications to the nave ceiling were carried out in 1770, with records showing great expenditure on supplying the involved carpenters and plasters respectively with 26 and 29 gallons of cider! The external tiles were then replaced with Cornish slate around the 1800 mark.
In 1884-85, the chancel was rebuilt to the designs of Ewan Christian, who may have reused some of the original 16th century window masonry. Additionally, a small organ chamber was added to the north, though it is no longer occupied by an organ. Aside from these alterations, the interior of the church was not restored by the Victorians, who, in a regular restoration, would have undoubtedly replaced the ancient pews and flagstones and removed a great deal of personality from the building. This makes Puxton's interior a rare organic survival and all the more precious and characterful.
In 1960 the eastern end of the nave ceiling was raised during repairs in order to re-expose the crest of the chancel arch which had become obscured by the roof sagging, a situation which returned more drastically in 2000 when the roof failed entirely. The dwindling congregation were not in the financial position to save the church, and it was declared redundant in 2002. Thankfully it was then vested in the Churches Conservation Trust, who carried out essential repairs to the building, protecting this wonderful church for the future.
The information here has been taken variously from the CCT website, and the Historic England listing.
Puxton's church is not one which stands proud of the landscape as a beacon, rather one that only reveals itself to those absolutely intent on reaching it. After wending one's way down forsaken country lanes, the church is approached from the north, unusual but not rare by any means. The tower is directly ahead once through the gates, and as such the perspective causes doubts to creep into the mind about whether the tower actually leans that much, but walking round to the south side and standing back will prove once and for all the terrifying truth. The south porch is cutesy and rustic, and sets a good precedent for what awaits within the walls.
Once inside, the atmosphere swells around the visitor and inducts them into a world of ancient reverence. A building untouched by the blundering restorer's hand, age seeps through the algae-choked flagstones and mixes with the damp, chilled air. The outside world seems unreachable, and it is almost hard to believe that this space has been placed into the 21st century. The interior is just about satisfactorily lit, but the electric lights go a long way, once you get over the shock of this place having electricity in the first place! There is little to see by way of material items, but the character of the building invites the visitor to stay a while longer and to take it in. One almost takes pity on the building and wishes to remain to keep it from getting lonely, to become a fleeting streak of warmth within these weary walls. In a place like this, the souls of the departed linger as the damp, and the least you can do is sit where they once did and give them your thoughts.
Thus far when writing for this website, I have tried my absolute best to ensure that at least one 'Treasure' from the church's collection gets its due spotlight here, a goal which all too often goes hand-in-hand with contrivance, but Puxton is the first to have truly stumped me. The usual items which I may feature here - a particularly fine memorial, a characterful font, some quirky carvings, a kaleidescope of ancient glass - are totally absent from Puxton's interior, and nothing can be shoehorned into the mould. One contender would have been a small bronze figure of Christ which was discovered in a ditch near the church in 1895 and subsequently dated to the 13th century, but I have been totally unable to trace its current whereabouts, and it is certainly not in the church. And so, in this barren case, why are we even here? Is the absence of material interest enough to condemn a church to the realm of tedious obscurity? Well, clearly not, as I am bothering to write about it!
It is, of course, true that many churches have spent their hundreds of years either insignificant enough to warrant absolutely no exceptional decoration or endowment (after all, if all places had it then it would no longer be exceptional) or have been badly treated enough to have lost all they had, but this is not always a death knell, for what constitutes a 'Treasure' can be taken to be nebulous. At the risk of sounding like a far too pretentious academic article, there is no need to limit the scope of assigned value in these places to the material world, for what is truly remarkable about Puxton is its atmosphere. The church is rustic, dingy, and battered, but she wears her years with an immensely characterful grace and charm which could never be found in many a Victorianised church with an abundance of material treasures.
So, does Puxton contain items of 'Treasure'? No. But is it to be treasured? Absolutely.
The exterior from the north, blocked by a stumpy yew tree. The render is characterful in a beaten, decaying sort of way. | Taken 08/01/25
The exterior from the south, with the rendered walls being even more grim on this facade of the building. | Taken 08/01/25
The interior facing east, with the stone screen visible. | Taken 08/01/25
The interior facing west; a frugal, simple sight to behold. | Taken 08/01/25
The arms of King George III, clearly dated 1775 and hanging above the north door (contrary to the Historic England listing which for some reason dates them 1751 and places them above the south door!). | Taken 08/01/25
The plain and deep stone font, dating to the late C12 or perhaps early C13. The octopus-like font cover is probably C16 and is possibly the one recorded as having been purchased by the churchwardens in 1765. | Taken 08/01/25
This C17 reading desk is a curiosity; directly across the nave from the pulpit, it gives the impression of a double preaching space, being rather more stately than most. | Taken 08/01/25
This is quite a bad picture, and I'm not quite sure why I didn't retake it, but it still neatly shows the crudeness of these C16 benches, which are practically raw lumber. | Taken 08/01/25
The battered Jacobean pulpit would be a handsome one with a little TLC, but its glory is rather dulled by the years. | Taken 08/01/25
Inside the rough and ready Georgian box pews; not the epitome of comfort I'm sure, but rather charming nonetheless. | Taken 08/01/25
The C18 box pews in full. Like the pulpit, a little varnish and burnishing would give them a whole new lease of life, but there is something charming about their battered state. | Taken 08/01/25
A view across the church from the vantage point of the pulpit. The different sets of pew styles seem to divide the church into factions - which I suppose was the point at the time! | Taken 08/01/25
Some exposed timbers from where the north side of the former rood loft met the wall. They seem deep enough into the structure for the loft to be contemporary with the wall's construction. | Taken 08/01/25
The blocked up remains of the access stairs to the long vanished rood loft. Often, these unused recesses are left open, and, come to think of it, why would you even bother blocking up a staircase to nowhere? | Taken 08/01/25
I generally don't bother with benefactors' boards, but there are exceptions to every rule. I doubt that Mr Counsell's ten shillings in bread are still being distributed, despite the commitment to it 'for Ever'. | Taken 08/01/25
The cutesy harmonium of the 1930s was built by Mason & Hamlin. It stands at the east end of the nave and presumably replaced whatever instrument originally stood in the organ chamber. | Taken 08/01/25
The beginning of a series of slab memorials in the church, this first one being a rustic and bewildering labyrinth of text commemorating various members of the Whippey family who died in the mid C17. | Taken 08/01/25
This is probably the finest memorial in the church; a floor slab commemorating Elizabeth Whippey who died in 1683 at the age of 36. The incised Baroque canopy is finely done and crowned with pleasing little memento mori. | Taken 08/01/25
This is the earliest memorial in the church and is now set into the wall next to the chancel arch, commemorating Mary Whippey who died in 1666; a bad year for Puxton as well as London then! | Taken 08/01/25
Though weathered profusely, the engraving on this slab to Elizabeth and Hannah Taylor (wives of John Taylor Senior and Junior respectively) is elegant and surprisingly precise. | Taken 08/01/25
Even a village as tiny as Puxton could not escape bereavement in the Great War, as shown by this wall tablet to the memory of Lance Corporal William Edward Palmer, killed in action in 1916 at the age of just 22. | Taken 08/01/25
The goofy skull from the top right hand corner of Elizabeth Whippey's grave slab. The engraving quality is fine, but the jagged teeth and strange kippah-like addition belie the engraver's dearth of anatomical knowledge. | Taken 08/01/25
The Leaning Tower of Puxton, perhaps second only to Cwmyoy in terms of alarmingness of angle. | Taken 08/01/25
Ewan Christian's east end is pleasingly executed and in keeping with the remainder of the church. | Taken 08/01/25
The south porch, a pleasing little construction, and thankfully not rendered like the rest of the building. | Taken 08/01/25
A closer look at the 1557 St. Loe arms. The disjunct nature of the two components can clearly be seen. | Taken 08/01/25
The west door, a fine display of roll-moulding along with the barest remnants of label stops either side. | Taken 08/01/25
The west window is rather a pleasing sight, with two far better preserved label stops either side. | Taken 08/01/25
A close up of the left hand label stop, a stoic and triangular face with a chin so cleft that parts of it have actually broken off! | Taken 08/01/25
The similar right hand label stop. This was my first attempt at using a photographic zoom lens so forgive the slightly holographic image! | Taken 08/01/25