St Michael, Peasenhall |
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Peasenhall is an attractive
village. A brook runs the length of the main village
street, conventionally known as the River Yox, although
in fact this is a backnaming from Yoxford, further
downstream. The setting of Peasenhall church just off of
the street is at first sight an unusual one, with the
19th Century cottages down the east side looking directly
into the churchyard, and larger buildings to the south.
It doesn't seem wholly rural, and there is a feeling that
something industrial happened here among the fields and
copses of east Suffolk. And that is exactly right, for
here it was that James Smyth invented the seed drill, and
Peasenhall was home to the Suffolk Seed Drill Company.
The church was almost entirely rebuilt in the 1860s,
another sign that this was a busy place in the 19th
Century. All that survives of the medieval church is most
of the tower and a splendid north porch, not overlarge
but beautifully decorated in traditional Suffolk flint
flushwork. A wyvern with a knotted tail and a woodwose, a
Suffolk wild man of the woods, face off in the spandrels
of the doorway. In 1417, Thomas Payne the vicar of Sibton
gave twenty shillings (about £1000 in today's money) to
the building of the tower, and the following year there
was another bequest for the same. The porch probably came
next, and then in 1475 another twenty shillings was given
by John Maneld to the painting of the tabernacle of
St Michael in the chancel suggesting that by then
the struture of the church was complete. As James Bettley notes in his revision of the East Suffolk volume of the Buildings of England series, the rebuilding of the 1860s was at the expense of the Brookes of Sibton Park, and the architect was Robert Chantrell. Chantrell is best known today for his complete rebuilding of Leeds Parish Church some twenty years earlier, at the time the largest church built in England since St Paul's Cathedral more than two centuries earlier. Peasenhall provided a much smaller and simpler project for a man then approaching his seventies. The contractor was Henry Ringham of Ipswich, greatly concerned at that time with the refurnishing of the large church of St Mary le Tower in that town, today Ipswich Minster. This may explain why there are none of his customary high quality bench ends here, and in fact Ringham was declared bankrupt in 1862, perhaps financially overstretched by taking on too many projects and staff. At the time of the 1861 census he had 49 employees in his St John's Road workshop. Stepping inside, you can see that,
understandably and more than most Suffolk country
churches, Peasenhall church is what Pevsner sometimes
called an end in itself rather than the
accretion of centuries. However, one unusual survival
here is the font which must be 12th or early 13th
Century. It's been partly repaired, presumably at the
time of the rebuilding, but I don't think I've seen the
wavy lined banding with inset arrowheads on a font
anywhere else in East Anglia. It has been reset on a
solid stone column which looks somewhat out of sorts with
it. It was probably intended to be on the floor,
although, intriguingly, the early 13th Century was when
the raising of fonts to facilitate infant baptism became
pretty well universal, and the chamfered corners here
suggest that it might originally have been set on four
legs. If you have heard of Peasenhall before, it might be because of the sensation of the Peasenhall Murder. On the morning of 1 June 1902, Rose Harsent, a servant employed at Providence House to the north of the churchyard, was found lying dead at the foot of the stairs to her bedroom. Her throat had been cut. A local man, William Gardiner, was tried for her murder, but the jury could not reach a verdict, so he was acquitted. He lived on in Peasenhall under a veil of suspicion until the 1940s. As the writer of the Wikipedia page on the incident notes enthusiastically, it is a classic 'unsolved' country house murder, committed near midnight, during a thunderstorm, and with ingredients of mystery. A recent television investigation into the murder concluded that the perpetrator was probably Gardiner's wife, in a fit of jealousy. Rose is buried in the village cemetery on the back lane towards Bruisyard. |
Simon Knott, April 2025
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