e-mail: simon@suffolkchurches.co.uk

 

St Mary, Barking

  Barking straggles along the busy B1078, which is unfortunate. But it is surrounded by beautiful countryside, with woodland groves to the east, and gentle hills to the west. In common with several villages around here, it has a tye. This is a large, open common, originally intended for grazing sheep and cattle that were en route to market from other parts of the country. Shepherds and cowherds would obviously use local inns and services, and thus a community would grow up adjacent to the village. There are quite a few of these tyes in Suffolk, and Barking Tye is one of the biggest. During World War II, it was put under cultivation for food, and disappeared, indistinguishable from surrounding fields. It remained so until the 1960s, but it is now slowly being returned to its natural state. This will take time, and it still looks rather bleak and barren. But the Parish Council, which owns the tye, is to be congratulated for its efforts so far.

Most people's first sight of St Mary - up the path from the B1078. The tree is a reminder of a gentler age, when vicars had time to pursue their leisure interests.

St Mary, in common with nearby Combs, is one of Suffolk's grander churches. Until the 20th century, it was also one of the county's more populous parishes, including as it did the whole of the town of Needham Market, where St John the Baptist church was just a chapel of ease. All the dead of Needham Market came here to be buried, conveyed the mile up the hill on a bier along the Causeway. This is a journey you can still make today, albeit under your own steam. Local legend has it that the word 'causeway' is a corruption of 'corpseway'. This is a good story, but it seems more likely that it is called the Causeway because it is, well, a causeway.

  
 

The sanctuary, with the soaring tracery of the east window, flooding the chancel with white light.

   Most people will approach the church from the south, up a narrow footpath between fields. This steep lane leads you into the very attractive churchyard, which seems to have been lent an urban quality by its former association with Needham Market.

The fine Cedars of Lebanon are a legacy of a 19th century vicar, who was a botany enthusiast, and collected seeds from around the world.

The grand south porch is all shut up; but if you walk around to the north side, you'll find a notice telling you that the key is available from a bungalow at the bottom of the steep path you've just come up.

Don't be put off. Don't be discouraged. It will be worth it. Go and get the key.

I did. The very nice churchwarden was painting his gate, and got it for me. As I reascended the path, I was again impressed by the way this building looks.

 
  The tower is in perfect proportion to the nave and chancel. In fact it's a bit too perfect; which isn't surprising, since it was rebuilt in 1870. The grand 15th century clerestory and 14th century gargoyles are terrific; and although the whole thing is cement-rendered, there is still a very pleasing harmony about it.

The key lets you in to the priest's door in the south wall of the chancel, but be careful to - no, I'll tell you later.

  
  This is a wide, grand chancel, which we'll come back to. But first, step through the substantial rood screen, looking up to see a rare survival, the coving that supported the roodloft. It is intricate and beautiful. This on its own would be worth coming to see.

But there is more. For, as you step into the nave, on either side of you at the east end of the north and south aisles are two gorgeous parclose screens, which once surrounded chantry chapels. It is a blessing that altars have now been returned to them, and the one in the south aisle is dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, that in the north to St John.

  

The gorgeous rood screen, looking east.

  
 

The painted north screen around the altar to St John.

   The north screen is carved delicately and painted beautifully. The south screen matches it, but without the paint; it is also heavily restored, after an arson attack in 1974. Standing back from them both, and taking the roodscreen in as well, one can see that the rood loft must also have gone over the parclose screens, as at Dennington.  

The south screen, restored after the arson attack, and surrounding the Lady chapel.

  
 

Detail from the north screen - a gilded lion pendant.

  
 

Barking roof - like being beneath a giant insect.

   There is an outstanding quality to the work in this church. Look at the perpendicular window beside the north door, which would be quite at home at Lavenham. Look up at the nave roof, surely the sturdiest of all Suffolk roofs. It was probably built with oak from nearby Priestley Wood. Given the proximity of the wonders of Needham Market, the people of this parish certainly knew how to build roofs.

And isn't it curious how neighbouring Suffolk churches sometimes both have something which is otherwise rare in the county? Like Metfield and Cratfield, up north, which both have ancient clock mechanisms. Or Blundeston and Lound, with their matching porthole squints.

 
 

Serpent...

   Here at Barking, the serpent that was played in the church band, before the influence of the Oxford Movement replaced them with choirs, is still on display in a glass case beside the south porch. The only other Suffolk church with a surviving serpent is neighbouring Battisford. Another nice piece of curiosa is a charcoal brazier, two of which stand either side of the font, and were used in times gone by for warming the place up.  

... and brazier. Oh, and that's the font behind.

  
 

The coving to the rood loft, above the archway.

And so, we walk back up to the chancel, stepping through the magnificent screen. The space here is cleared of clutter, and the light from the interlocking Ys of the east window illuminates the stalls set against the south wall. The tracery on them is clearly medieval, and matches that on the rood screen. Given that rood screen and parclose screen are fully intact, we may presume that this came from the rood loft itself, in which case it is a rare survival.

The former rood loft parapet, around the choir stalls.

  
  This glorious church lifted my spirits considerably, and I was eager to get back on the road. So I went to let myself out of the door I had come in. I inserted the key - but it wouldn't turn. I tried again. Gradually, it dawned on me that the key only worked from the outside, and that the hook beside the door handle slipped over it to prevent the latch going home. I was locked in.

Well, I didn't panic. If the worst came to the worst, I had my trusty mobile phone. I went and looked for another way out, and discovered that I could unhitch, unlatch and unbolt the Fort Knox-like structure of the south doors. It was like a massive jigsaw puzzle. At last, I saw daylight! I went round to the priest's door, let myself back in again, carefully hooked the door handle, rehitched, relatched and rebolted Fort Knox, and went back out the priest's door, which closed with a satisfying clunk behind me. This church must be the most impregnable of all Suffolk churches - I would gladly leave all my possessions inside, and know them to be safe.

Detail on the rood screen - eastern face, above the archway.

I took the key back to the bungalow at the bottom of the hill. The nice man was still painting his gate. "Thanks very much, it's a smashing church", I said.

"Good", he replied. "Glad you enjoyed it."

I got on my bike, to head on towards Battisford, but then turned back to him. "By the way, I manged to lock myself inside", I confessed.

He laughed. "Oh, everyone does that", he said, and cheerily waved me off.

As I pedalled onwards, it occured to me to wonder what would happen to people who didn't manage to escape through the south porch. Presumably he would go and let them out, if they hadn't returned the key after an hour or so. And then I thought that it made rather a good metaphor, a church that was easy to get into and hard to get out of, and you could construct a good sermon around it. And then I thought, the next time a vicar moans to me about his declining congregation (and it's usually a man) I shall suggest that he fits a door like this.

  
 

Hatchment: The King and The State. A touch on the protestant side, then...

  

A tree. With a church behind it. Listen, I'm a writer, not a photographer...

St Mary, Barking, is located on the B1078 between Bildeston and Needham Market. It is locked, and a keyholder is listed. See MAP