All Saints' Church, Elslack

Connecting the small Yorkshire villages of Broughton and Elslack is Church Lane, with All Saints’ Church sitting contentedly between the two. I have previously inspected the exterior, but not being left open, I had arranged with the Church Warden to be granted admission. The old tower was likely built of stones from the nearby Roman fort of Olenacum which was situated a few fields’ distance. The base stones certainly have that Roman regularity about them which some medieval masons failed to replicate. According to Alan Bennett, who visited the church in the late nineties, there are burn marks still on the tower from the Scottish looting and burning that occurred after their victory at Bannockburn. There are certainly some darkish stones in the tower’s northern wall, but whether we can blame Scots marauders seems unclear.

Inside, it was very clean, though heating it would likely prove a difficult task. Two old and broken statues were erected, one in the nave, the other in a side chapel. On the first, Mary’s head is broken off; the second lacks the child Jesus’. Found in the grounds in 1871, they were likely buried at the time of Reformation by someone eager to be rid of them, or, on the other hand, someone wishing to preserve them. Both aims could be deemed generally successful.

Attached to the north wall is a simple grave cover with a large, crude cross scratched onto it, and smaller ones about it. This is said to be a cover for a mass grave for those who were executed in the aftermath of the Pilgrimage of Grace, an anti-Reformation revolt against Henry VIII, whose participants were ruthlessly dispatched. The smaller crosses can be observed within the larger, corresponding to the ‘five wounds of Christ’ motif which the Grace Pilgrims had on their ill-fated banner.

I noticed a medieval grave cover on the ground as I entered the porch. Leigh and Podmore’s Outstanding Churches in Craven consider it a crusader’s tomb lid, although I could see no clear markings upon it to support this.

This feature lent further weight to the impression I was gaining: this church, in spite of its idyllic, rural setting, was a place of conflict. Smashed and buried statues, ancient forts, burnt stones, executions, rebellions and crusades. This is no criticism of the current church, nor its modest but faithful congregation. Christianity has been characterised by conflict and dissension, as adherents jostle to rightly implement God’s word; it gets caught up in political upheavals and national disturbances, papal bloodlusts and international hostilities. Though this fallen world of which we are part is chaotic and violent, the peace of God remains with His people, much as that old church of All Saints’ is as sleepy and quiet as an old lady who has seen it all before.