Two Lonely Churches

The county of Suffolk, like much of East Anglia, is mostly given over to arable farming, often by very large estates. But cast adrift on this sea of barley and wheat, sugar beet and potatoes, one occasionally finds tiny churches, all alone and at a distance from their villages. Lets visit two of them, both isolated through history but otherwise different in every way.

Hemingstone church stands on a small mound overlooking fertile fields, midway between the tiny village and the ancient pile of its Hall. It's the sort of setting that feels that it might be a religious meeting place of the pre-Christian era. Today it has just a farm for a neighbour.

At first glance it looks to be a typical village church, but then you notice that it has two porches standing side by side on its north wall. What's all that about? I wonder.

After I've pushed and tugged at the porch door to no avail - and my brother has then managed to open it with no problem - we discover a huge set of blacksmith's bellows standing in the corner.

Inside it's somewhat untidy in a rustic sort of way with lots of memorial plaques on the wall, commemorating many generations of the wealthy of the parish.

 

There's a very beautiful font said to date from the fourteenth century. Behind it is a painting of St Gregory (to whom the church is dedicated) and above that the royal coat of arms. Lets have a closer look at that. One thing I've learned is to always photograph these, there are often little mistakes or discrepancies.

WR at the top means it dates from the reign of William III, usually known as William of Orange, presumably after the death of his wife, Mary. So it probably dates from between 1694 and 1702. The detail of the coat of arms in the centre should confirm this. But...that's NOT the correct coat of arms for William....or indeed anyone else. The first quarter (top left) should be the arms of England, but the French arms have been put in their place, with the English arms relegated to the fourth quarter. Odd....can it just be a mistake?

Nearby is the memorial to those who gave their lives (or were robbed of their lives) in the First World War. It's terrible to think that four young lives were lost, even in a quiet hamlet like this.

This must be the blocked south door with one of a series of now largely indecipherable painted wall-signs above it. I like the weathered look of the walls.

I also liked the aged look of the rather battered organ, which doesn't seem to fit the building in any way at all - apart from being rustic and functional. And standing opposite it is the grand, if slightly rough-hewn memorial to William Cantrell, once of Hemingstone Hall.

Presumably it would have been paid for by his son and heir, Ralph, who was a very interesting character. It was during his time that the whole village was up before the church authorities for irregularities in their way of worship. At that time the Church of England laid down very strict rules about who must attend church (EVERYBODY) and who could be a Catholic (NO ONE). These rules were obeyed in most places, but in remote backwaters like this the gentry were used to doing exactly what they wanted...and Ralph was a Catholic.

Now to that second porch. Ralph, as the Lord of the Manor, had to pay for the fabric of the village church and also had to be seen to attend regularly. This must have been somewhat irksome to the Catholic Ralph.To solve part of his problem he had a second porch built; the villagers would enter through one and he and his family through the other. But this was not just an example of class snobbery. For while one porch led into the church the other didn't and here the Cantrells would quietly celebrate their Catholic mass while the regular service took place in the main church. If you scroll back to the picture of William Cantrell's monument you'll see there is a tiny window to the right. With this open, Ralph was technically attending the service!

Now to that royal coat of arms that we saw earlier. It must have been put here in Ralph's time too, which was also during the Nine Years War, when the Protestant William III was up against France, which was of course Catholic. Was Ralph instructed by the church that he must have the royal arms on display in the church, as was then a requirement, and did he respond by having these altered arms installed as an insult to the king he strongly opposed? Brave. And reckless.

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You just never know what history (and mysteries) you might encounter deep in the countryside. And now we'll move on to a very different small and isolated church, not too far away.

All Saints at Crowfield also stands well away from its village with just farms for company. In this case it was the village that slowly migrated down towards the old Roman road of Stane Street, leaving just the church and the manor house behind. As you walk down the grassy path towards the church you can still see the moat of the old manor house - even the manor house eventually moved away!

All Saints looks as though it's barely tethered to the real world at all and might at any moment float off into some kind of ethereal never-never-land. That half-timbered chancel must make it one of the prettiest little churches in the country. Shall we lift the latch on the gate?

Oh wow! Surely it won't be open, or will be less enchanting inside.

There's a light shining through the coloured glass!

The inside is just as perfect and shows just how well the Victorians could restore a church if they really tried. The work was carried out from 1862 and was paid for by Lady Anne Middleton in memory of her husband, Sir William Fowle Fowle Middleton. Sir William is also remembered by a plaque on the wall which was placed there by his tenants who recall "his liberal benevolence and sympathy for the poor, the aged and the sick, his care in educating the young...and providing constantly remunerative employment for the labouring and strong".

The bench-ends are each carved with a different design.

The carving was done by two of the finest wood-carvers of that time, Mr James Wormald and Mr William Polly. Their work must be in many churches across East Anglia, though often they were considered as artisans rather than artists and their names go unrecorded.

The stained glass is from the same era and is by the firm Ward & Hughes of London.

The royal coat of arms is unusual in that it is in stained glass too - no mistakes, deliberate or otherwise, in this case, as far as I can tell!

Angels look down from the roof.

You often see boards bearing The Lord's Prayer in our churches, but this one is ornately painted on metal. Lady Anne Middleton was an artist herself and I can't help thinking that her tastes must be reflected in this jewel-like building. 

I love all these homely details. One of the windowsills even displays a model of the church....

If you're ever down this way drop in and visit these lonely little churches - they seem happy to receive callers.

Take care.