Jane Austen 250: Exploring Church Graffiti in Jane Austen's Hampshire

Jane Austen 250 marks a year of national celebrations in honour of one of England’s greatest writers, commemorating the 250th anniversary of her birth.

Born and raised in Hampshire, Austen's world was shaped by the Georgian churches and parishes that surrounded her, sacred spaces that formed the backdrop to family life, moral dilemmas, and the social customs she so sharply observed in her novels.

In honour of this milestone, we’re shining a light on a remarkable collaborative project between the Hampshire Archives Trust and the Hampshire Medieval Graffiti Project. The team has surveyed five of our CCT churches in Hampshire, unearthing a wealth of historic graffiti and devotional marks that offer a new way of seeing our churches.

Each of these churches would have been standing in Jane Austen’s lifetime. Some may even have been known to her or to the clergy, families, and travellers who inspired her work.

Thanks to the brilliant work of the Hampshire Medieval Graffiti Project, we’re able to explore some of the more personal and ephemeral marks left on our church walls. This volunteer-led initiative, co-ordinated by Karen Wardley through the Hampshire Field Club and Archaeology Society, follows the pioneering model of the Norfolk Medieval Graffiti Survey and has now surveyed over fifty sites across the county.

Led in part by Dr Cindy Wood, with student involvement from the University of Winchester, the project documents graffiti not as vandalism, but as a meaningful historical record. These marks offer insight into the spiritual life of ordinary people: from apotropaic symbols like hexafoils and Marian initials designed to ward off evil, to devotional crosses carved near porches where important business and agreements were once sealed.

Some graffiti commemorate individuals who may not have had a grave marker, while others show playful or musical elements left by young organ-pumpers or masons at rest. Names, ships, faces, animals, even irreverent comments, survive as a kind of people's archive, etched into stone and wood.

Thanks to the Hampshire Medieval Graffiti Project, we’re able to appreciate these remarkable survivals with new eyes.

St John the Baptist, Upper Eldon

Tucked away in the private garden of Eldon House, just four miles south of Stockbridge, the Church of St John the Baptist is perhaps the most hidden of our featured churches and certainly one of the smallest in Hampshire.

Built in the 12th century, this tiny flint-built chapel measures just 32 feet long by 16 feet wide, and today it blends so quietly into the landscape that passers-by might mistake it for a barn. Yet this modest building carries the weight of centuries.

In Jane Austen’s day, Eldon was already in decline. The surrounding parish had few houses and no real centre of population, it had long since become what was called a “decayed parish.” By the time of the 1851 Religious Census, just 14 people were recorded in the parish, and services had largely ceased. An 1864 correspondent to The Gentleman’s Magazine described it as “shamefully desecrated,” noting that the rector had given away a volume of sermons in lieu of ministering to a parishioner, and that the church was now being used as a cowshed.

Austen, who grew up surrounded by vibrant parish life at Steventon, would have recognised the tragedy and symbolism of such ecclesiastical neglect. And yet, the church’s history stretches back far beyond the Georgian period.

Originally part of a royal manor owned by Queen Emma (the powerful widow of King Canute), Eldon was granted to Winchester Cathedral in the 11th century after she fell out with her son, Edward the Confessor. Later, it passed to the Augustinian canons of Mottisfont Priory, before becoming a chapel for the Sandys family, who took over the manor and converted Mottisfont into their home after the Reformation.

Despite centuries of intermittent use and disrepair, the church retains extraordinary features:

• Nine medieval consecration crosses, carved in stone and once inset with metal, marking where the bishop would have anointed the building with holy oil at its founding. This is an exceptionally rare survival.
• A hagioscope, or “leper’s squint,” cut through the west wall, possibly used by pilgrims or even, local tradition holds, archers of Henry V, who were said to pray through the window on their way to fight at Agincourt in 1415.
• Deeply splayed Norman windows and a simple, lime-rendered interior, evoking the sparse and devotional world of early English Christianity.

After being declared redundant in 1971, the church was rescued by The Churches Conservation Trust in 1973. Restoration began in earnest, and today it is still consecrated, hosting a much-loved annual service and welcoming curious visitors who seek it out.

Though Jane Austen may never have seen Upper Eldon herself, its story of change, decline, and restoration speaks to the very themes of tradition and social flux that underpin her work. A building of tiny stature but vast historical resonance.

St Mary’s, Hartley Wintney  or “The Church on the Hill” 

We now turn to the northeast of Hampshire, to a church that Jane Austen may never have visited herself, but one that stood firm during her lifetime and still stands today: St Mary’s, Hartley Wintney, affectionately known as the Church on the Hill. 

Set above the village on a quiet rise, the churchyard is open and spacious, dotted with yew trees and sweeping views. The church served this community for centuries, until it was gradually replaced in the late 19th century by a new building closer to the expanding village. Since 1975, it has been cared for by the Churches Conservation Trust. 

The oldest part of the church may date back to the 11th or 12th century. The small Norman chancel, built of puddingstone, still survives, while the nave was enlarged in the 13th or 14th century, possibly by the Cistercian nuns of nearby Wintney Priory, who became patrons in 1340. Later additions include brick transepts from the 1830s and a flint-and-stone tower added in 1842.

Despite these changes, much of the medieval atmosphere remains. On entering the church, visitors are met with a striking wall painting of St Christopher, protector of travellers, facing the doorway: a spiritual safeguard for those who passed beneath it. On the north wall are faded remnants of the Seven Deadly Sins, a rare survival of late medieval moral teaching through imagery. 

These painted surfaces sit alongside a rich variety of graffiti. Near the door, a carefully inscribed name, Israil Woodes, stands out, possibly left by a parishioner or local labourer. Framed initials, crosses, and boxed markings may have acted as low-cost memorials or tokens of devotion. 

On the pews and organ casing are the carved names and doodles of 19th-century choirboys, including both pious sentiments and mischievous remarks “PRAISE THE LORD” alongside “HELL”. 

Outside, masons’ marks are etched into the buttresses and tower. In the vestry, pencilled names like Don Dicker record the presence of workmen who helped preserve the church in more recent decades. These are everyday marks of community, traces of people whose lives were tied to this place in ways both sacred and practical. 

The church was finally declared redundant in 1975, but thanks to the dedication of local volunteers and the Churches Conservation Trust, it remains open for quiet reflection and seasonal events. St Mary’s continues to offer something deeply Austenian - a connection to ordinary lives lived in rhythm with the land, the church, and the passing of time.

All Saints, Little Somborne

Standing alone among the Hampshire downs and only a short distance from Jane Austen’s birthplace at Steventon, All Saints, Little Somborne is a small Saxon church with a remarkable atmosphere of seclusion and antiquity. It lies along a quiet country lane just outside Stockbridge, and would have been passed by Austen herself when visiting family or travelling to Winchester.

The core of the church dates to the 10th century, with a nave that was once much longer - you can still trace the footprint of its original walls in the churchyard. Later Norman additions include the chancel arch and south doorway, both of which remain today. Inside, the building has a timeless quality: whitewashed walls, a simple font, and early pews arranged under timber beams.

But it is the graffiti at Little Somborne, recorded by the Hampshire Medieval Graffiti Project, that gives us a unique window into the devotional lives of past parishioners. The markings, likely dating from the 14th to 18th centuries, were incised by hand into the soft stone and timber around the south doorway and porch.

These include:

• An incised cross, near the doorway, perhaps made as an act of prayer or reverence on entering the church.
• A possible IHS Christogram - the sacred monogram for the name of Jesus reflecting Christocentric devotion and widespread personal piety.
• Faint traces of protective apotropaic symbols, such as hexfoils (daisy wheels) and interlocking VV or VM marks representing the Virgin Mary (Virgo Virgorum or Virgo Maria). These were designed to ward off evil or misfortune and are commonly found near thresholds.
• Unidentified name-frames, initials or dates - likely from the 17th and 18th centuries - potentially acting as informal memorials or declarations of presence for those who couldn’t afford a gravestone.

These humble carvings, invisible to the casual visitor, speak volumes. They connect us not only to medieval and early modern faith practices but also to the unrecorded lives of ordinary worshippers, some of whom may have lived during Austen’s own lifetime.

St Mary’s Church, Ashley

Our next church is St Mary’s, Ashley, a peaceful and rather hidden building in the Hampshire countryside, not far from King’s Somborne. It sits within what was once a Norman castle site, known as a ringwork - a defensive earthwork with a raised bank and ditch. That makes this site unusually rich in layers of history.

The church was likely built in the early 1100s and later given to the monks of Mottisfont Priory, making it one of several churches in the area to be looked after by religious orders. Although it served only a small rural population, St Mary’s remained in use right through to the 1970s, and occasional services are still held today.

It’s a simple building, made of flint and chalk, with a low roofline and no tower, but inside, it’s full of interest. There’s a round Norman font made of Purbeck marble and a beautifully shaped chancel arch dating to the 12th century. In fact, much of the building’s original medieval character survives: from the stone window frames of the 1300s, to later timber pews and an 18th-century wooden bellcote above the roof.

But one of the most fascinating things about this church is what’s been scratched into the stone over the centuries. If you look closely around the porch, windows and chancel arch, you’ll spot carved marks, some made by pilgrims, others by local parishioners. These include simple crosses, circular patterns known as daisy wheels, and protective symbols believed to keep away evil.

One of the most important discoveries here is a Latin inscription on the chancel arch, dated 30 June 1550, during the reign of Edward VI. It likely records the moment the church was stripped of its colourful paintings and statues during the Protestant Reformation. You can still make out parts of the text, scratched carefully by hand. It’s a rare and moving reminder of how national events were felt in local parishes, and how everyday people responded to huge changes in religious life.

St Mary’s may be a modest church, but its walls are full of stories, quietly recorded by the hands of those who once worshipped here.

St Nicholas, Freefolk

Tucked between two houses just south of the River Test, St Nicholas’ Church in Freefolk is a charmingly modest building: a single-room structure of flint rubble, topped with a weatherboarded bellcote and mellow red tiles. It was originally built in the 13th century as a chapel for a small, rural population and has never been enlarged. Despite its size, it holds layers of fascinating history.

The church was substantially reworked in the 15th century, when its fine timber roof, cinquefoil windows, and the painted wooden rood screen were added. That screen still survives, now repositioned at the west end. A major refurbishment took place again in 1703, when a wooden bell-turret was installed, a plaster ceiling was added, and the Ten Commandments, Lord’s Prayer and Creed were painted in bold rustic style. A new east window was installed in 1904, along with brick buttresses to stabilise the leaning walls.

Inside, you’ll find a rare Jacobean monument to Sir Richard Powlett of Herriard (1614), originally moved to nearby Laverstoke and later returned. Painted in strong colours and protected by iron railings, it’s a striking feature in such a small space. There are also wall paintings - the most notable being a fragmentary late-medieval image of St Christopher on the north wall. In the Middle Ages, it was believed that seeing an image of St Christopher each day would protect you from harm.

Beneath this painting lies one of the most compelling pieces of medieval graffiti we’ve seen: a large, compass-drawn circle, 36cm in diameter, scratched into the wall plaster. Later red paint partially covers it, showing that the circle pre-dates one of the wall painting schemes. This kind of circular symbol is often interpreted as apotropaic, meaning it was intended to ward off evil, a kind of spiritual safeguard etched into the very fabric of the church. The fact that it sits just below an image thought to offer divine protection makes this even more poignant.

Elsewhere on the wooden screen are curious marks: initials, likely JB, a common combination in Tudor England, as well as abstract arrow-like shapes and cuts made by the original carpenters during construction. These inscriptions, though small and discreet, give us rare insight into the everyday people who built, used, and prayed in this tiny church.

By the 1970s, the congregation could no longer maintain two local churches, and St Nicholas’ was placed in the care of the Churches Conservation Trust. Its survival allows us to connect with centuries of quiet devotion, humble craftsmanship, and the deep belief that sacred space was worth inscribing in paint, in carving, and in prayer.