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When I first
started exploring the churches of East
Anglia in the 1990s, it was the remote
and hidden churches that enticed me the
most. Anything more than half a mile from
the nearest road was particularly
favoured. But All Saints is so
interesting and lovely that it would be
worth seeking out whatever its setting. A
track leaves the Capel St Mary to Great
Wenham road by the fine Queen's Head pub,
whose car park is a legitimate one for
walkers, since you will clearly want to
come back here for a pint or two of
Adnams afterwards.
Past the bungalows the lane doglegs by
some Victorian houses, and then meanders
through farm buildings and fields before
entering a curious fen-like area, over
which it is a causeway.You do not need
much imagination to detect the remains of
a former settlement here. You then reach
the extraordinary Little Wenham Hall, one
of the oldest houses in England. |
The Hall was built in the
13th century, and its bricks are among the
earliest known English ones (that is, they are
not reused Roman bricks). The only other
residential building in the parish now is the old
Manor House, back on the Capel St Mary road,
although when I came here in February 2013 I saw
they were converting the magnificent 16th century
red brick and timber barn opposite the church.
The track curves around the grounds of the Hall,
which are strictly private. It opens out into
what is clearly an ancient farmyard, with All
Saints on its mound to the right. All else about
is gentle farmland. The difference in level
between track and churchyard is so great that a
flight of steps leads up to the gate, for all the
world as if transferred here from a busy medieval
street in Bristol or York.
Supposedly, some churchyards are higher than the
surrounding land because of the reputed medieval
practice of importing more earth to allow further
burials. I have no idea of whether or not this is
true. But Little Wenham has always been a tiny
village, and the graveyard here is flat, more of
a plateau, so I think the reason for the
difference here is the way the track has cut into
the land over the last 800 years or so. The barn
is also higher than the track.
This churchyard is one of Suffolk's secret
places. Few people know of it. Fewer still will
have visited it. The graveyard still contains a
large number of tombchests fenced in by 19th
century iron railings; the unfortunate practice
of removing these for recycling during the Second
World War obviously never reached this place.
Over the fence, there is a good view of the
battlements of Little Wenham Hall. The red brick
tower of the church stands high above the nave
and churchyard. The buttress to the east of the
porch contains no less than three mass dials in
good condition, as well as the ancient gnomen of
a sundial. The porch itself is a little 15th
century wooden one, although it does have two
features of great interest. Above the entrance,
three image niches are set in the wood, in a way
familiar from stone ones found elsewhere in
Suffolk. Also, the entrance contains slots for a
dropbar gate, existing elsewhere in Suffolk at
Badley, a similarly remote church. Its purpose
was probably to keep animals out.A notice on the
door describes this as the church of St Lawrence,
a locally popular dedication after such things
were revived by the Victorians.But it was, and is
still officially, All Saints.
And so, you step inside.
This is one of those churches which seduces the
senses with its idiosyncratic character and
plethora of interesting features. The first thing
which will strike you is the great St Christopher
facing the doorway. Although it has been damaged,
the important parts are there, particularly the
lush, curly hair of both figures. To your right
are the remains of the medieval stone rood
screen, existing elsewhere in Suffolk only at
Bramford. Here, the top part was removed in the
early 19th century, but you can still see where
the reredoses for nave altars were set. And then,
stepping through the gap, you stand before
some of the loveliest wall paintings in all
Suffolk. Because the church is pretty much
all of a piece, apart from the later tower,
having been built at the same time as the Hall in
the middle of the 13th century, and because the
original early Decorated east window is still in
place, it is safe to assume that hese wall
paintings are the original decorations, painted
for the building's consecration.

To the south, we see that
ever popular Suffolk triumverate of female
saints, Margaret, Catherine and Mary of Magdala.
To the north of the east window, a rare survival,
a Madonna and child, flanked by angels. The most
striking thing about these beautful flowing
figures is that the centuries have oxidised the
skin tones quite black. They are exquisite. And,
as if that were not enough, the chancel also
contains one of Suffolk's best pre-Reformation
brasses. It is on the floor in front of the
altar, to Thomas Brewse of little Wenham Hall,
who died in 1514. He and his wife Elizabeth stand
stately and proud, confident in their position,
and in the perpetuity in which Masses would be
said for their souls. Interestingly, someone at
some point has attempted to scratch out the rose
shapes on her girdle. Perhaps they thought it was
a rosary. Beneath them, their children stand,
boys to the left, girls to the right. The girls
have long, flowing hair, which, Sam Mortlock
tells me, means that they were unmarried at the
time of their father's death.
The Reformation would
result in a different kind of memorial, where
civil power could be legitimately expressed. The
Brewses held the hall into the 18th century, and
were patrons of this church. Either side of the
altar are two other memorials to the Brewse
family. To the south, an extremely sentimental
one to John Brewse, who died in 1585. At first
sight, this is an extraordinary piece. And the
longer you look at it, the more extraordinary it
seems. The figure of Brewse is in outstanding
condition, and outstandingly crafted. He kneels
at prayer, a different kind of piety from his
great grandfather on the chancel floor. He is in
perfect proportion for a shorter man (which they
generally were, in those days). He looks as if he
might get up and walk away at any moment. The
monument is decorated with all manner of heraldic
shields, forming what is basically a family tree.
To the north of
the altar, what is plainly an Easter
Sepulchre, and originally a
pre-Reformation tomb for a member of the
Brewse family (it bears an earlier form
of the shield across the chancel) but for
whom is now unknown. However, in 1785 it
was pragmatically reused for John Brewse,
a descendant of the other two. Another fascinating feature
is the lovely 18th century Lord's Prayer
on the north wall - it would originally
have been at the east end. This is a
church to contemplate at leisure, to
immerse oneself in, and visit again and
again. And yet, it almost didn't survive
for us to see it. In the late 19th
century, this church was quite derelict,
and a decision was taken to demolish it.
At the meeting held to discuss this, it
is said that the Sexton swayed opinion by
stating that "the old girl's been
around such a long time, it seems a shame
that she should fall down now." His
eloquence led to its restoration, and a
photograph of this hero can be seen to
this day, beneath the tower arch.
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