Kirkdale Sundial

A screenshot of a computer

Description automatically generated

A unique treasure whose secrets reveal an extraordinary insight into the world of the eleventh century upon which you can stare today, imagining our ancestors who did the same a thousand years ago

 

Return to the Contents Page

 

Visiting Kirkdale

A map of a city

Description automatically generated  A map of a river

Description automatically generated

About a mile west of Kirkbymoorside, south of the North York Moors, you will find a treasure of the history of our family ancestors and of Ryedale. Head towards Helmsley on the A170 and at the Welburn junction head north on Kirkdale Lane. Turn right at the crossroads and you can park in a large carpark beside the minster.

Walk up to the church and through the metal gate to the porch at the west door which is now the main entrance to the church. Look up and you will find a Yorkshire treasure, which will transport you back a thousand years to the decade immediately before the Norman Conquest in 1066.

 

The Sundial

Above the south doorway within the porch, you will see a sundial from the Anglo-Saxon-Scandinavian period, which bears the following inscription:

Orm the son of Gamal acquired St Gregory’s Minster when it was completely ruined and collapsed, and he had it built anew from the ground to Christ and to St Gregory in the days of King Edward and in the days of Earl Tostig”.

A person and person standing in a hallway

Description automatically generated

The sundial itself bears the inscription “This is the day’s sun circle at each hour” and then “The priest and Hawarth me wrought and Brand”.

As you look at the sundial, you might glimpse, from the corner of your eye, the shadowy figure of a direct ancestor who shares the genes we have inherited, also looking at the same inscription. Give some thought to how that ghostly spirit might have interpreted the sundial, and what significance might once have been drawn from it.

A screenshot of a computer

Description automatically generated

The inscription refers to Edward the Confessor and to Tostig, the son of Earl Godwin of Wessex and brother of Harold II, the last Anglo Saxon King of England. Tostig was the Earl of Northumbria between 1055 and 1065. It was therefore during that last relatively peaceful decade, immediately before the Norman conquest, that Orm, son of Gamal rebuilt St Gregory’s Church.

A screenshot of a computer

Description automatically generated

The sundial consists of a stone slab nearly eight feet long (236 cm) by about twenty inches wide (51 cm), divided into three panels. The central panel contains the dial, and the Old English inscription above it may be translated as "This is the day's sun-marker at every hour."

The panels to left and right contain the further inscription in Old English which furnishes precious information about the early history of the church.

A screenshot of a computer screen

Description automatically generated

The left-hand panel provides the first half of the main inscription: "Orm the son of Gamal acquired St. Gregory's Minster when it was completely ruined.”

A screenshot of a computer

Description automatically generated

The right-hand panel completes the information: “and collapsed, and he had it built anew from the ground to Christ and to St. Gregory, in the days of king Edward and in the days of earl Tosti."

A screenshot of a computer

Description automatically generated

At the foot of the central panel a further inscription reads: "Hawarth made me: and Brand (was) the priest."

A screenshot of a computer

Description automatically generated

Tostig, the son of Earl Godwin of Wessex and the brother of Harold II the last Anglo-Saxon king of England, was earl of Northumbria from 1055 to 1065. It was therefore during that decade that Orm the son of Gamal rebuilt St. Gregory's church. It is very rarely that we can date the construction of an early medieval church so precisely.

The sundial was preserved in a coat of plaster until it was discovered in 1771.

The sundial was placed over the south doorway, There can be no certainty that the sundial was built into the new church as it was constructed, but the general dating of the fabric suggests this was so. It was probably built into the new church at the time of the rebuilding in about 1055. At that time the main entrance to the church was the west doorway so another possibility is that it was originally housed there.

A screenshot of a computer

Description automatically generated 

We cannot be sure that its present position is its original position … The sundial could even have originally been separate from the church structure itself; but there is a strong probability, given the dedicatory nature of the associated inscription … that it always comprised a prominent display on the face of Orm’s rebuilt church – on the south side of the building, that is, in order the catch the sun.” (S A J Bradley MA FSA, Professor Emeritus, University of York).

 

It is not unlike the seventh century inscription of St Paul’s Church, Jarrow, which reads In hoc singulari signo vita redditur mundo, “In this singular symbol, life is restored to the world”.

 

The characters of the inscriptions are mostly in the Latin alphabet. They are in Old English, apart from the conventional Latinate forms of sanctus (which is abbreviated to SCS), Christus (christe, abbreviated to XPE), and Gregorius. Otherwise the wording is of late Old English.

 

The inscription introduces us to a number of individuals. Orm is Orm Gamalson, but his name is not written in its Norse form of Ormr, but in anglicised form. Tosti is Earl Tostig of Northumbria. Eardward refers to Edward the Confessor. It is likely that Hawarth was the sculptor who undertook the work. Brand was the priest, perhaps custodian of the science of the computus which may have lain behind the conception of the sundial.

 

It happens that there was a Provost Brand, who was elected abbot of Peterborough in 1066. Perhaps the Kirkdale Priest moved south in the following decade, at the time of the Conquest.

Kirkdale is now recognised to have been at the forefront of contemporary English architecture, with comparisons to St Mary’s Deerhurst and even to Westminster Abbey, the masterpiece of Edward the Confessor. There may have been influence from Ealdred Archbishop of York from 1061 to 1069, who had also been bishop of Worcester and who later crowned William the Conqueror at Westminster on Christmas Day 1066. Orm Gamalson held property in York, and may well have been subject to Ealdred’s ideas. It might have been Ealdred who influenced Orm Gamalson to commission the inscription. Ealdred was a diplomat, almost a ‘prince bishop’.

The stone for the rebuilding was from local sources and reused material. If the stone came from the quarry of North Grimston near Wharram Percy, 27km south east of Kirkdale, this might have been an asset of Orm Gamal’s family.

Symbolism had continued in its importance from the Anglo Saxon into the late Scandinavian period. The sundial itself is a relic of sophisticated allusion, with symbolic and liturgical meaning. It provides a continuity of experience to the period when Ryedale was a part of the empire of Rome and Romanitas, the treasuring of Roman concepts, was important.

The sundial provides an extraordinary wealth of information conveying Scandinavian, Latin and English associations. It links to an antique past, Roman, Anglo Saxon and then Scandinavian.

It is the first known reference to the dedication of the church to St Gregory, but the inference is that the church was already dedicated to Gregory. The inscription reaffirms the importance of Kirkdale’s connections with Rome.

Earl Tostig, referred to in the inscription, with Archbishop Ealdred of York, had been on a pilgrimage to Rome in 1061.

The inscription is the first surviving reference to the church being a minster, but it is likely that the church was founded as a minster, though the meaning and connotations of that definition was likely to have changed over time.

 

A Short History of Time

An interpretation by Professor Bradley of the sundial and its inscription: “This is the day’s sun circle at each hour”, takes us into the imaginations and perceptions of our ancestors who conceived of the sundial and looked up at it as they regularly walked through the door.

Whilst sundials were already old in England by the mid eleventh century, the Kirkdale community’s gadgetry for the purpose of telling the time was not particularly sophisticated. The folk of Kirkdale would have been as well off using such things as the shadow of hill tops or other features of the landscape as natural shadow clocks. Professor Bradley therefore suggests that it is highly likely that the folk of Kirkdale would have used natural features for time telling and its steep sided valley would have offered good opportunities for such methods. This might be more consistent with such records as the Prologue to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, in which the narrator was able to calculate that it was foure of the clokke by a calculation based on his own shadow.

It therefore seems more likely, particularly given its position over the doorway into the minster, that the real purpose of the sundial was not practical and secular, but religious and profound. Indeed the practice was to bury the dead who had been faithful on the south side of the church, so the exterior of the south wall was a logical place for such symbolism.

A screenshot of a computer

Description automatically generated

The sundial has eight divisions. This matches the division of the 24 hour day into eight sections in the New Testament, with daylight divided into four periods each corresponding to three hours starting at 6am.

It has therefore been proposed that the sundial was intended to be a symbolic reminder of temporal progression or pilgrimage. Time was perceived as the linear temporal space within which the world moved towards its final judgement and dissolution.

By the fourth century CE, Christian theology had focused on God’s plans for how life on earth was lived. This brought with it a conception of history and the passage of time.

Orm’s octaval sundial might have been a reminder to those who passed underneath it, to keep watch of the day and night against Christ’s Second Coming. It might also have been an incentive to live life as a pilgrimage through time.

The contemporaneous belief was that people were in temporary exile in the world from a heavenly home. A symbolic reminder to follow a life of pilgrimage therefore had a place. This was a subject that later ran through English literature, such as John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. The Seafarer written in about 1000 CE described the seafarer who, despites the dangers, was irresistibly drawn to journey onwards over the oceans.

The Kirkdale sundial might have originally been painted in vibrant colours. It might have been intended for those who set eyes upon it, to think upon Time. Consciousness of time was growing through awareness of history. Bede was the national historian of the English people and Alfred of Wessex had instilled in the English people an understanding of the need for civilised people to keep historical records.

The rebuilding of Kirkdale represents a striking investment of wealth by Orm, which reflects a revision of the English church of the late tenth and eleventh centuries. It seems likely that the Scandinavian named Orm Gamalson was inspired by an awareness of history.

This was an uneasy generation of the period just after the end of the first millennium. In 1014, Wulfstan, Archbishop of York, had published his sermon addressed to the English nation. He anticipated the coming of the Antichrist and found moral decline in the nation. There was always some uncertainty about the exact span of the thousand years. What was in doubt was the precise date, but not of the fact of a Second Coming. So it is possible that Orm’s sundial created not so long after the turn of the millennium, was recording the passing of the last of days. If that is so, it is difficult to tell whether it was created with a sense of foreboding, or whether it was a more optimistic symbol.

There was also an idea that the sun in its daily course was appointed to declare mystical truths of God’s creation. The sun and moon were understood to mirror God’s purposes and the destiny of humankind. Perhaps the sundial on the south wall of the church might have aspired its onlookers to gain some knowledge from the passage of light as it charted the shadow of a perceived continuum. Orm’s ornate sundial might have been intended to offer a glimpse into the divine order of things.

Orm’s sundial was also likely to have reflected the main thrust of ‘scientific’ consideration, focused on the searching for a knowledge of the Creator and his universe, and his purposes, through the interpretation of the calendar. This comprised the calculations of the computes, which had caused such division within the church until a resolution was reached at the Synod of Whitby in 664 CE.

In 325 CE the Council of Nicaea ruled that Christians should hold Easter on the same day, always a Sunday. Its calculation was linked to the Jewish method to determine the date of the Passover. The computational method involved complex cycles of years. It never worked well. Bede’s De temporum ratione was an attempt to help calculate the dates of Easter up to the millennium and beyond.

There was a renewal of computus learning in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries. Aelfric’s De temporibus anni was a development of Bede’s earlier work.

With guidance from texts such as Bede’s and Aelfric’s, it had become possible for a reasonably educated cleric to make his own calculations. There was likely to have been a network of ecclesiastical connections, leading to the restored library at York. Kirkdale’s likely associations with York would probably have given access to Kirkdale’s priest, Brand, to these works.

So Brand may have been a priest who, with Orm’s patronage, was able to articulate complex ideas of the passage of time, reinforcing the correct calculation of time through computus science, with a primarily theological symbolism, inspiring our ancestors to use their time wisely and piously, particularly against the perceived threat of an ending of time.

After the Conquest in 1074, when Orm had lost his lands, but not so long after the rebuilding of Kirkdale, the Monastery of St Paul at Jarrow was re-established in the 1070s by Aldwin, the Benedictine prior of Winchcombe in Gloucestershire, inspired by reading Bede’s Ecclesiastical History to visit the holy places of Northumbria. He had been inspired to see whether the Bedean centres of monastic life were still thriving as recorders of history. Perhaps on his journey from York he might have found Kirkdale. If so, Kirkdale might have reassured Aldwin of a local understanding of theological direction.

 

So when you look at the sundial today, it is worth reflecting on what it might have meant to a person who might be a direct but distant relative. If he or she was contemplating time, the sundial might now be a portal across a thousand years, to provide some linkage to our ancestral past.

 

Return to the Contents Page

or

Go Straight to Chapter 3 – Scandinavian Kirkdale

Go Straight to the History of Anglo-Saxon-Scandinavian Kirkdale

If your interest is in Kirkdale then I suggest you visit the following pages of the website.

·      Introduction to Kirkdale

·      Kirkdale Cave

·      Roman Kirkdale

·      The community in Anglo Saxon Times

·      The church in Anglo Saxon Times

·      The Kirkdale Anglo Saxon artefacts

·      The community in Anglo Saxon Times

·      The church in Anglo Saxon Scandinavian Times

·      Orm Gamalson

You will find a chronology, together with source material at the Kirkdale Page.