| |
|
St Mary,
Kelling
 |
|
It was November, and it
was the first time I'd been back to the Norfolk
coast since the summer. John Salmon and I had
been exploring churches south of Holt, and now we
headed north, through the heaths and woods in the
gathering dusk. It was only a little after three
o'clock, but already the daylight was failing,
and then we came to St Mary, and just managed to
catch the exterior before the light had gone
altogether. St Mary
has a big, blockish tower, ordinarily impressive;
but the effect was spoilt somewhat by the west
window currently undergoing restoration. This was
a cruciform church, the south transept now in
ruins, but that to the north still in existence.
The church sprawls pleasingly in the open
graveyard, and the way that the gardens of houses
back on to it give the place a secretive,
proprietorial feel. It was the perfect time of
day and year to come upon such a church.
|
| The little porch leads
into a big, open space. Given the light outside,
I had expected the church to be fairly dim
inside, but it was darker even than I had
expected. John knew where the light switches
were, which was just as well, because St Mary is
unusual in having one of the smallest east
windows of any church in Norfolk. Given that the
west window was boarded up, it might as well have
been the middle of the night inside. And it would
be a shame not to see the interior of St Mary,
because it is lovely, and there are some items of
great interest. |
| The 15th century font not
only has a shield with an undamaged symbol of the
Holy Trinity, but a dedicatory inscription to the
de Kelling family in a very unusual place, around
the rim of the bowl. The west end around it is
cleared of clutter, which always looks good. Up on the wall, the royal arms are
dated 1797, which would make them those of George
III. However, the initials at the top say simply
GR, suggesting George I. In fact, they are even
earlier; the inscription Semper Eadem
shows that they are the arms of Queen Anne,
reused and adapted accordingly over the years.
|
|
 |
Moving eastwards,
there are some 15th century glass figures of women reset
in clear backgrounds. Two of them appear to be nuns
wearing crowns, in which case one (or both) may be St
Etheldreda, although I have a sneaking suspicion that
they may be composites. A third wears a crown and is
seated on a throne, suggesting that it may be part of a
Coronation of the Queen of Heaven scene.
 
There is a pretty
screen across the north transept, with a little Marian
altar on the windowless east wall. As with the whole
church, it is simple yet devotional. The arch into the
south transept is still discernible, but the most curious
part of the crossing is the chancel arch, a deeply cut
pointed affair.
Beyond,
the chancel is darker, the tiny two light window
a contrast with the vast Victorian lights you
find in some smaller churches. Here in the
chancel is Kelling's greatest treasure, the
Easter Sepulchre, an exquisite thing of the early
14th century. Its lower portion was for many
years hidden by the raised Victorian floor, but
as the Millennium project here the area around it
has been lowered, and you can see it in all its
glory.
Coming back
into the nave, the lovely window of St Francis
blessing the birds was invenit et fecit
(designed and made) by Harry Mileham, and don't
miss the ledger stone that, instead of a morbid
skull and cross bones or pompous heraldic shield,
has a large sheaf of corn in relief. I thought
that this just about summed up this lovely
church.
|
|
 |
Simon Knott, January 2006
|
|
|
