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St Peter,
Clippesby
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St
Peter at Clippesby may well be one of the
less-visited churches of Norfolk, especially in
comparison with many others in the Broads area,
because it is not easily visible until you are
actually upon it, and neither is it
well-signposted. It is set down a scrubby lane
off at a dangerous bend in the busy Acle to
Stalham road, and the secretive and beautifully
overgrown churchyard comes as a surprise. St
Peter is one of Norfolk's 120-odd round-towered
churches, although the tower here is a complete
rebuilding of the 1870s. Despite the major
restoration of this time, the church still
presents a fine Norman doorway to the north.
Curiously, the 19th Century south porch which is
hidden from the road appears to have two
Norman doorways, the outer and the inner; it is
not impossible that one was brought from
elsewhere, but it seems more likely that they
both incorporate parts of what was once a single
doorway. There is some intriguing graffiti on
both doorways, the most fascinating of which is a
roundel which seems to show a Norman woman
praying. So the church is obviously a Norman
building elaborated later then, as many are
around here. But there seems to have been another
considerable restoration in the early 13th
Century, presumably obviating a need for anything
major to happen in the late medieval period. This
pretty little aisleless church must have looked
very much as it does now, in its lovely
churchyard, for almost a millennium.
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If there
is one good reason for coming to Clippesby it is to see
one of the major works of the early 20th Century East
Anglian Arts and Crafts revival, the south nave window by
Margaret Edith Rope. The Rope family produced several
fine artists, but the most significant were Margaret
Edith Rope and Margaret Agnes Rope, two cousins who
produced some of the finest English stained glass work of
the first half of the Century. The Clippesby window is
important because it was, in 1919, Margaret Edith Rope's
first commission. It depicts the scene of Christ allowing
the children to come to him, 'for of such is the Kingdom
of Heaven'. It is full of bright colours, the drawing
owing something to the contemporary work of Anning Bell,
but the scene full of the little details which would
become the Rope Cousins' trademarks: here, the doll held
by one of the little girls, the toy Noah's ark which bobs
in the stream with tigers and elephants coming off of it,
the frog which sits on a lilypad. An upper light depicts
a priest baptising a baby, and the round window behind
him becomes a cruciform nimbus, because the window
remembers Alfred Rivett, Rector here 1897-1917, and his
wife Anna. It is utterly enchanting.
With such
a dramatic highlight the rest of the interior pales
somewhat, but this is a simple, well-kept church with the
character of its 1870s restoration. The reredos is a fine
piece, suggesting a considerable Anglo-Catholic sympathy
here at that time. The 15th Century font is a curiosity,
appearing to have had the top quarter or so sliced off
the bowl, possibly to even it up after vandalism in the
16th and 17th Centuries. I couldn't help thinking that,
in proportion, it is very similar to some of the Seven
Sacrament series, and it would be fascinating to know
what the panels depicted before they were smoothed clean.
Clippesby
church has two sets of pairs of brasses from each
end of the 16th Century, and thus either side of
the great Reformation divide. The earlier ones
are to Thomas Pallyng and his wife, he in the
costume of a rich merchant. The later ones depict
John Clippesby and his wife. He is very much the
Tudor gentleman, and with them are their three
daughters, and a chrysom child, a baby who did
not survive into childhood. The only jarring note
in the whole building is a window depicting the
Resurrection, probably of the 1870s, in garish
ice cream parlour colours. As you may
be able to tell, I liked Clippesby church very
much indeed. I sat there, soaking it all in,
feeling the warmth of the sunshine falling
through Margaret Edith Rope's masterpiece behind
me, when I heard - or thought I heard - a slight
movement behind me. I had left both porch doors
open, and as I turned I saw two young black cats,
who had overcome their nervousness and were
poking their heads around the doorway to see what
I was up to. Well, when I turned they were gone
like a flash, as you may imagine, no doubt
fearful lest their inquisitiveness should prove
their downfall. I went and sat outside in the
churchyard, watching them explore and tumble in
the long grass. Again, a noise behind me, and
this time a large, adult male peacock was
thrusting like a battleship through the
undergrowth. What an extraordinary place. I took
my leave respectfully, and headed on, pausing
only to notice the new headstone on the south
side of the chancel to one lovingly
remembered as an inspiring Choir trainer, Artist,
Poet, Thinker and a wise and caring friend.
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