Bradfield Combust

All Saints, Bradfield Combust

The hellish A134 hurtles through from Sudbury to Bury, slicing this otherwise rather pretty village in two. But still, the church sits beside the pub in happy juxtaposition, reminding me rather of the same thing at Fornham St Martin. The name of the village means exactly what it suggests; there was a great fire here during the 1320s, when the Bury Abbey holdings here were destroyed by a mob protesting at the power of the Abbey over the burgesses of the town.

The south aisle swamps the little church beyond. The Manger waits in the distance.

What a strange church this is! It seems to have lost its west end at some time, but must always have been tiny until the the great square extension was built to the south. I hesitate to call it an aisle, although that is what it is; it seems to have been built with the intention of increasing capacity as much as a space for processions and altars. Indeed, although Mortlock dates it as 14th century, it looks almost entirely Victorian to me, with windows and doors reused from the previous north wall. Perhaps it was just over-restored.

Don't be put off by the rusty cage-like grill on the south door. This church is accessible, and you wil be glad that you made the effort to get the key. Stepping into the extension, your first sight is of the very good Norman font, with its decoration added a couple of centuries later when there was a fashion for that kind of thing.

Looking south-west towards the Norman font in the south aisle. The arcade may be older, but much of this is over-sentimental Victorian work.

Inside, the mediocre Victorian glass makes it a bit gloomy, but perhaps this is actually for the good, because it throws into relief the treasures of the nave.

All Saints would not be the least bit remarkable if it were not for something discovered during the restoration of the north wall in 1961. This was the pair of wallpaintings, two of the finest in East Anglia, of St George and St Christopher.

St George is dressed in the uniform of a crusader, which is interesting, because the St Clare family of Bradfield were noted as crusaders. This painting probably dates from a good two centuries after the crusades, but perhaps it is based on a family portrait.

St Christopher stands in a river, fish swirling about his feet, and his little house on the bank below. The Christchild is quietly majestic on his shoulder, but the Saint's face is a riot of long hair, beard and moustache. As M.R. James records of something more sinister in one of his ghost stories, one feels in no doubt that he is drawn from the life.

St George - or a member of the St Clare family?

The amount of red pigment in the paintings is striking, and calls to mind the Doom at adjacent Stanningfield. Like the Stanningfield Doom, they would have been covered up with whitewash by Protestant reformers in the late 1540s.

Rather happily, the keyholder to this church is the adjacent pub. Even better, one of the churchyard gates leads directly into the pub garden. Of course, this may mean that the church is not accessible outside of pub hours, and in all honesty I can't think of any reason why this church shouldn't be safely kept open. Still, it's a good excuse for a pint.

St Christopher and the Christchild. Note the fish in the bottom left hand corner.

Detail. The Christchild in Majesty on the Saint's shoulders. A contrast with the adult Christ at nearby Stanningfield.

On your way over to the pub, don't forget to stop at the rather impressive memorial to Arthur Young. He was a member of William Pitt's countryside taskforce, and one of the great agricultural writers of the 18th century; he is credited with being a major force behind the changeover from medieval farming methods to modern ones. His father had planted the great woodlands of Bradfield Hall, which nestle the village to the east. Arthur Young junior was himself a useless farmer, unfortunately; he not only bankrupted Bradfield Hall, he did the same to another farm he took over in Hertfordshire. But he did write a cracking book about his travels in France.

Arthur Young on the way to the pub.

In later life, he went blind, and suffered from intense bouts of depression. Adding to these sufferings, he had married badly at the age of 24. His cousin, the writer Fanny Burney, records in her journal that his wife's language was violent, and she was so red-faced that she looked like a fiend. She lies beneath the memorial with him.

All Saints,Bradfield Combust, is about halfway between Bury and Sudbury on the A134. I found it locked, with a key next door at The Manger pub.