Blaxhall

St Peter, Blaxhall

It was a close day in early June, the sky brooding and thunderous. Too warm to wear a coat, too unpredictable to risk going out without one. We set off from Aidan's house near the busy A12, but very soon we were up to our waists in the thrusting barley field, tracing a footpath that had been discernible still, until a few days before. Now, it was becoming submerged beneath bountiful golden waves for another Suffolk summer.

Me, Aidan, his six year old Jack and his mad dog Bella, were on a mission. There were two churches in East Suffolk that I hadn't visited, and they were both within a couple of miles of each other, near Aidan's house. We crossed a railway line, then a stream; Jack startled a partridge, which exploded away from its clutch of eggs. Soon, we were on the heathland, a sea of sand leached out from the fields by a succession of wet summers. The going was heavy, the sand sinking and shifting as we stalked up the slope to the tree ridge. Day-old tracks of a fox staggered out of the hedge. A rabbit thumped once, and flashed into a hole.

St Peter in the wild grasses - a great survivor.

Ahead of us, the tower of St Peter loomed over the trees. There we were aimed. Red brick infilled swathes of flintwork - I was reminded for a moment of Carlton, and the way there that the first sight is also a tower over trees. Aidan and Bella went down into the village to find the key; me and Jack lifted the heavy churchyard gate, and went in.

An avenue of chestnuts led up to the east of the church, clusters and scatterings of 19th century graves on either side. Off to the south, the modern graveyard was trim, but to the north the ancient graves were a glorious wilderness of wild flowers and grasses, the tomb tops peeping above the tufts as if they were going down for the third time.

Ellen Mary Rope's gorgeously sentimental porch window, with its quotation from the psalmist: Sing we merrily unto the Lord or God, make a cheerful noise unto the God of Jacob. (Photo by Arthur Rope).

Looking up at the tower, you can see that something happened here. Either a collapse, or the neglect common to medieval churches before the Victorians found them and rescued them. Perhaps, the red brick was a patch-up job of the early 18th century, and evidence inside seems to suggest this; the battlements were probably renewed later. Or possibly, the patching up was an even earlier job, back in the early 16th century, contemporary with the red brick outlines of the nave windows. The intention would have been to rebuild the tower, at the expense of a bequest; but the Reformation intervened, and it never happened. Well, it's a theory.

The porch is another late medieval renewal, rather simpler than some, but note the Marian monogram on the eastern buttress.

St Peter is a church of outstanding interest, and little known. A hint of this is to be found when you step into the porch.

Blaxhall was home to the Ropes, that extraordinary creative family of farmers, artists, engineers and religious. Their work can be found in churches and cathedrals all over the world, and they are widely represented in Suffolk. In quantity, you will find the work of Dorothy, Ellen, Margaret and her cousin Margaret E. Aldrich Rope most notably at Leiston and Kesgrave, but also here. There's more of their work at adjacent Little Glemham.

Aidan and Bella arrived with the key, but we didn't need it to see Ellen Rope's deliciously sentimental side windows in the porch, depicting sunday school children. Arthur Rope tells me that it is unlikely that Ellen actually made the window herself - if so, it would be her only known stained glass work. It is more likely that one of the Margarets made it up in the London workshop to their Aunt's design. A lovely early 20th century piety, I thought, which I liked very much. Aidan, a confirmed medievalist, smiled politely, and the dog paid more attention to one of the chestnuts outside. But it was a mark of things to come.

Turning the key, we stepped into the cool interior. At first, you may be disappointed, for the church has the air of a thorough Victorianisation, with the lack of character and individuality which that implies. A second look, however, and you will see that you are quite wrong.

First, look up. This is as fine a medieval hammerbeam roof as you could hope to see in a small country church. The angels on the corbels have all lost their wings, but their features are so primitive that one can't help assuming that they were carved by local villagers.

Above: Looking east. The quotations from Scripture in the chancel roof date from a 19th century refurbishment, as do the tiles. Propped-up kneelers are always cheering, but they do distract slightly from the glory of the east end here.

Left: One of the cheery angels. They are all slightly different, and suggest the hand of a local rather than a master carpenter. They probably weren't drawn from the life.

The nave is like a gallery of Rope work. The bronze war memorial is also Ellen's, as is the angel and child memorial for seven year old Alfred Bates. They are all very good, but the other bas-relief of an angel and child is superb, I think. It is by Dorothy Rope, elder sister of Margaret E.A. Rope.

The glory of Blaxhall, however, is the 1912 east window. It comes from the London workshop of Margaret Rope, in collaboration with her younger cousin.

In the middle of it, Mary and the infant Christ sit, attended by shepherds and Saints. Note the sou'westered fisherman to her right - this is a common Rope motif, the interleaving of fishermen, farmworkers, and so on, along with scenes of Suffolk rural life, among the Gospel stories.

Look at the faces of St Mark, and of two of the figures below.

One is struck immediately by the similarity of the faces of St John and St Michael, and that they are quite different from the faces of the other characters.

The Ropes sometimes used real people as models for their work; a lady in the village told me that the child in the angel bas-relief is still alive, an adult still living in Blaxhall. Margaret Rope sometimes used her brother Michael as a model, and he is St Michael in this window.

The Rope cousins' east window. Above, a detail of Mary and the Christ child. Note the fisherman.

Several of the figures have faces taken from Rope family members; St Mark to the left of the middle range, and then at the bottom St John, a bird on his shoulder, and an armoured St Michael.

Michael Rope was an engineer with the Air Ministry, and was on the ill-fated flight of the R101 airship, which crashed near Beauvais in 1931. The church of Holy Family and St Michael, Kesgrave, was built in his memory. His widow was still alive at the time of my visit, a wonderful old lady with many memories of her sister-in-law and the other Rope artists. You can read my conversation with her on the entry for Kesgrave, a church which also has Michael's face in stained glass.

The bottom range, through the altar lilies: St John, St Joseph, St Michael and St Peter.

It is rather curious that the bottom right panel is so crowded - all the others contain only one main figure. Arthur Rope, Margaret E.A. Rope's nephew, tells me that his brother Richard believes that the figure of St Michael was added later, as a memorial to Michael. Looking closely, I can see what he means. Whatever, the window remains one of the major 20th century works of art in all Suffolk. Its devotional, Catholic imagery has a lightness that moves it far beyond the sombre gravitas of so much Anglo-catholic triumphalism of the period. Every time I look at it, I see something new.

Margaret Rope's monogram signature (photo by Arthur Rope).

You step out of the chancel, back out of the 20th century. Here is a most unusual monument inscription, of 1621. What makes it so curious is that some of the dates are missing. Presumably, it was prepared before the death of one of the intended parties, and then never filled in.

It reads: Here lye the bodyes of Frauncis Saunders of Blaxhall in the County of Suffolke, Gentleman, whoe dyed the 21 daye of Janu. in the 69th yeare of his age, Ao Dni 1618. & of Katherin his wife daughter of John Soone of Wanesden (Wantisden) Wthin the same Countye, Esquire, who when shee had lived maried with the sayed Frauncis her husband 42 years and after his decease BLANK yeares widdow, dyed in the BLANK yeare of her age Ao Dni BLANK.

By them also lyeth here interred Frauncis Saunders sonne of Valentine Saunders Esq one of the sixe clarks of his Mties High Court of Chauncery, who died in the 19th yeare of his age Ao Dni 1604. In memory of wch three (his brother, sister in awe & eldest sonne) the sayed Valentine Saunders Esq erected this monument Ao Dni 1621.

It is safe to assume, I think, that the chaos of the Civil War intervened, separating Katherin Saunders from her home and family. She must lie elsewhere now; perhaps she remarried, and was known by a different name. I had come across something similar a few weeks earlier at Flowton.

Another assumption we may care to make is that the churchwarden's name, inscribed in 1711 in a roundel on the west wall of a nave, was put there to mark the restoration of the tower. This was often the case, affording churchwardens a kind of immortality after all that hard work.

Below it, the font is very attractive, but undeniably recut; the evangelistic symbols have never looked so lifelike.

Hanging on the north wall nearby is a bench end, which appears to be medieval; indeed, it has part of a dedicatory inscription on it. I wondered where it came from, and how long it had been there; neither Cautley or Mortlock mention it.

At Blaxhall, I had a sense that a silent hand has guided successive restorations and refurbishments, leaving us today with a church, and churchyard, that are respectful of their past, but fitting and able for the prayer, liturgy and life of today.

We headed on, down into the pretty little village, to return the key. Then, through the cottages and into the woods, the dog panting with mad excitement, Little Glemham closer with every step.

St Peter, Blaxhall, is located on the minor road that runs between Snape Maltings and Wicjham Market, about a mile to the north of the junction of the B1069 and B1078 at Tunstall. A key is nearby.

Please note that two of the photos here are by Arthur Rope, and retain his copyright.