This large church sits away from its village a mile or so up the busy Norwich to Cromer road. Trees shroud it from the noisy traffic, and the first sight on entering the churchyard is the surprise of the roomy south transept and a remarkably large two-storey south porch, looking as if it would be more at home in Suffolk than in Norfolk, though without an inch of flushwork except on the buttresses. The elegant window into the upper storey, two pairs of lights each separated by an image niche, is delightful. The floor of the upper storey is no longer in situ, so it's not possible to tell if the ceiling below it was vaulted. The porch fronts a church which must have been pretty well complete by the end of the 14th Century, the chancel first, then the tower, and the nave last of all, its windows probably replaced in the new Perpendicular fashion a century later. This was one of those rambling medieval churches content to decay quietly in the years after the Reformation, before being dragged kicking and screaming into the modern era by the Victorians, but really the late 19th Century restoration did not impinge too much on the original values of the building.

There are no aisles, no clerestory, but the church you step into feels open and full of light, thanks to the small amount of coloured glass. The font is a curiosity. The lower section is probably part of the original 14th Century font of the church, arcading with figures and a crucifix set within them. The upper part dates from the 19th Century, possibly a recutting, probably a whole new section. The feel of furnishings and floors beyond it to the east is entirely that of the 19th Century restoration, but there is a good grouping of collected 16th and 17th Century continental glass panels in one of the south nave windows. It was set here in 1881 and the inscription beneath it tells us that hanc fenestram honi curavit Henricus Philipus Marsham, 'this window was restored by Henry Philip Marsham'. None of the panels are of very high quality, indeed some are barely there at all, but overall it forms a nice collection.

The panels are a mixture of Old Testament and New Testament scenes. Along the bottom row are three roundels depicting the Destruction of Sodom, a knight wearing an orle and holding a crucifix, and Lot confronting the men of Sodom. The row above consists of what were once square or rectangular panels worked into elegant pointed ovals, they depict the three angels greeting Abraham, David fleeing his son Absalom, and Christ washing the disciples feet. Above are three more roundels. The outer ones depict Moses ordering the building of the Ark of the Covenant and Judas betraying Christ, but the central roundel is larger, and depicts an unusual subject. It is the 'certain young man' from Matthew 14:51-52 who had a linen cloth cast about his naked body; and the men laid hold on him: And he left the linen cloth, and fled from them naked. Mark Culham has suggested to me that it was probably not intended as an individual subject, but it is a detail cut down from a larger panel, most likely depicting the Betrayal of Christ from a Passion sequence, perhaps based on a similar scene by Dürer.

Going up another row, and here's the best of the glass I think. It is mostly 16th Century, larger panels cut down and formed into quatrefoils. The first depicts the Sermon on the Mount, and the second is a strikingly good depiction of the angel staying Abraham's arm as he prepares to sacrifice his son Isaac. The third panel shows God blowing a wind from heaven that sinks ships. I think it might be the destruction of the ships of Tarshish, but I'm open to suggestions. The row above is made up of three roundels, the first a very faded Adam and Eve, the second what appears to be a seated Christ, and the third so faded I could make nothing out of it. Above this row are three more pointed ovals, the outer two appearing to depict an Old Testament Prophet and an Old Testament King, perhaps both from a Jessee Tree. In the centre, two men carry an enormous bunch of grapes on a pole. These are the Israelites bringing grapes from the Valley of Eshkol in Numbers 13, and it must be based on a familiar picture because William Wailes used the same image for his glass of 1851 in Ely Cathedral.

The most important survival at Hevingham, however, is up in the chancel. This is a set of 14th Century stall rests, and of their kind I think they must be unique in East Anglia. Set in front of the 19th Century choir stalls, they are decorated with arcading beneath their slanting bookrests. Pevsner thought them very remarkable, they came from the school room in the upper storey of the porch, which seems unlikely - how would they have got them up and down the circular stairs? - but in any case that cannot have been their original use.

Outside, the traffic of the road stops this churchyard having the deep peace it deserves, but it is a churchyard worth exploring. An attractive headstone of 2009 to the south of the church quotes from the libretto of the opera Carmen, by Bizet: et vive la musique qui nous tombe du ciel - 'and long live music that falls on us out of the skies'. As appropriate here as anywhere, and how lovely.

Simon Knott, July 2023

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