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St Mary,
Anmer
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And
so we came amid the smell of bonfires and the
first falling leaves of another Autumn through
the backroads of the Sandringham estate. The air
was thickening into late afternoon mist, and we
wanted to reach Harpley and Tattersett before the
light failed completely; but here we were by
Anmer Hall, negotiating the farm road up to St
Mary. It sits at the back of the Hall farm,
beside a long abandoned stockyard and
outbuildings. There was a gate that no one had
opened for years, and as we got out of the car
into the silence we could have been in any time. St Mary is
a small church in a narrow graveyard, the
undergrowth deep and damp, a haze simmering below
the trees. Early October in west Norfolk, the
land mellowing and beginning to die back, but
still rich and abundant.
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Apart from
the chancel, which is a 19th century rebuilding (though
they seem to have kept the east wall and buttresses
intact, replacing only the tracery) this building is a
product of two phases. The mysterious early 14th century,
before the Black Death made us pause for thought, gave it
the nave and the south chapel; the Perpendicular 15th
century gave it the tower, which is perhaps a little too
serious, especially when compared with the gorgeous
tracery of the chapel east window. As if to compensate,
there are two very fine little 15th century windows in
the nave.
On a day
like this St Mary was never going to be full of light,
but its Decorated features make it an atmospheric place
rather than a gloomy one. And, as is common with churches
close to Sandringham, there was a lot of work in the
early 20th century, which gives it a particular
character. Curiously, part of this later work was the
placing of a screen about halfway up the nave; the
western part has become a baptistery, cleared of all
seats and setting the Victorian font in stark relief.
Beyond, the Victorian benches have been replaced with
modern chairs, which always looks good, especially in
such an Anglo-catholic setting.
Spreading
along the walls of the nave are six hatchments for the
Calthorpe family, and a royal arms of George III that
could do with a bit of a clean.
Overseeing
all of this is a very fine, large west window under the
tower, the work of Ward and Hughes. It depicts Christ
inviting the children to come to him, but it is the
figures in the flanking scenes that attract attention;
the sensuous mothers to the north, and the positively
homoerotic Peter and John to the south. It is a perfect
foil to the clear glass of the east window.
The high altar with its sarum screen and
reredos is beautiful, a perfect combination of blowsy
early 20th century embroidery and marble. The south
chapel has been reordered as a Blessed Sacrament chapel
for regular use, a 15th century-style screen separating
it from the nave, finely gilded. There is one of those
dinky little 18th century birdbath fonts here; the
reredos is perhaps a little too mawkish for modern
tastes, perhaps. The chapel furnishings are Edwardian in
the most exact sense of the word, being the commission of
Edward VII himself.
Later, this church seems to have been a
hobby of Queen Mary, wife of George V. After she died, it
fell into considerable disrepair, giving Mortlock cause
for concern when he came this way in the early 1980s. A
major restoration in 1986 has put things right. True, it
removed the paintings that formerly hung in the chancel
back to Sandringham House, from where Queen Mary had
taken them in the first place; but if this means that
this pretty little church can continue to be open every
day, then it is a price worth paying.
Simon Knott, October 2005
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