A church half a mile from its village, but it seems further because there is no direct vehicular approach. Instead, you head out on the road towards East Ruston and then cut back on a narrow lane that takes you up to the lonely churchyard. There are no neighbours other than that tower of Happisburgh church and its neighbouring lighthouse across the fields. And as you come closer you can see that it is rather acrisp looking-little church, because for all its apparent 14th Century appearance it underwent a major rebuilding by Diocesan architect Herbert Green in the 1890s. Photographs of the church before the restoration show it as pretty much a complete ruin, with only the chancel in use. Green restored the whole building, allowing the congregation to move back into the nave, and so it was with some irony that the chancel was severely damaged by a storm in October 1961. It was decided to block off the chancel arch and make the ruin of the chancel safe, leaving a tower and trimly thatched nave with what is effectively a walled garden on the site of the chancel.

The church is always open. You step into a pleasant, well-kept, much-loved and welcoming village church. There is nothing remarkable. The Purbeck marble font is typical of this area, and there is an early Jacobean pulpit and tester. On the north side of the sanctuary is a war memorial window depicting St Andrew, St George and King Richard the Lionheart. The figures look entirely the work of Powell & Sons to me, but Birkin Haward wondered if the artist was the young Christopher Webb. It remembers Lieutenant Locke Francis William Angerstein Kendall, who died of wounds near Jerusalem at the age of 27. A view of the city of Jerusalem is below King Richard's feet.

For me, a more moving war memorial is the original handwritten roll of honour, still surviving here after more than a century. Charmingly, the Mothers Union banner for the combined parish of Hempstead, Lessingham and Eccles is dated 1895. You feel a real sense of the place being a touchstone down the long Lessingham generations, and if that is all there was then it would be enough. However, there is something else, something that is no longer here. Before the chancel was demolished, All Saints had the surviving panels of a splendid rood screen with twelve painted figures. I had read much about it. Although later than the screen at nearby Hempstead, it was of particular interest because, as well as the twelve figures of apostles, there were further figures which had been superimposed on paper some time in the mid-16th century during the 1550s reign of Mary I.

As I say, the screen is no longer in Lessingham church, and there is some dispute about the identities of the figures on the panels. I had read the Norfolk Museums Service record, but this did not completely agree with an account that Chris Harrison had found by WW Williamson in Norfolk Archaeology, 1950. Williamson had seen the screen in situ in the church. In the 1890s after restoring the nave, Green had moved the screen into its original position at the entrance to the chancel, but after the destruction of the chancel and the blocking off of the arch it was moved to an unsatisfactory position at the west end of the nave. This was not an ideal situation, and so it was decided to loan it to the church furnishings museum at St Peter Hungate in Norwich, where it would be a star attraction. In 1968 the screen headed off to the big city.

However, when public spending cuts forced the closure of that museum the screen went into storage in the depths of Norwich castle. In 1995 it was moved to the Architectural Service archive at Gressenhall. The two sides were packed into enormous pine cases, and screwed up tightly to prevent them rattling around.

One hot summer day in 2006, I went with Chris Harrison to visit the archive. It was like stepping into an Aladdin's cave. The kind archivist unscrewed the front of the two cases, and revealed the wonders inside. It was the first time that the cases had been opened, the first time the screen had been seen for years. I hope I don't sound immodest if I say I felt a little like Howard Carter.

The screen is intricate and flowery, with perhaps a hint of the English Church Renaissance that might have been if puritanism hadn't intervened. This suggests that the construction of the screen itself is quite late, perhaps early in the 16th century. The construction has been restored, presumably by Green, for the base is new as are some of the uprights. Holes where buttressing might have been attached have been cut out and filled.

The figures are painted in two, possibly three, distinct styles. The original twelve are all by the same artist, and depict the eleven disciples and one other, possibly St Paul. Where a figure has been superimposed, there is a white banner with a legend about two-thirds of the way up the panel. This appears on panels I, II, VI, VII, VIII and IX. Curiously, there is a break in the background painting at the same point in panels XI and XII - could they also have been superimposed? Or, intriguingly, were they prepared, but the imposition never carried out? This seems more likely. Gessowork flowers are discernible on at least one of the panels, St Thomas, and probably date from the original decoration of the screen. They may have been generally removed before superimposition. The figures of St Roch and St Jerome give some indication of the quality of the whole if it had ever been completed. The original faces peer through like ghosts.

On the north side of the screen, figure I, St Thomas, has had the figure of St Roche superimposed. The superimposed figure is seated, and lifts his cape above his leg. A figure in white, possibly an angel, points to the leg, while a little dog looks on. Unfortunately, the leg itself is obliterated, but almost certainly it shows plague sores. Now, there was a great outbreak of plague in this part of Norfolk in 1555 - St Roche also appears on the screen at nearby Stalham. St Thomas behind holds a spear.

Figure II is St Matthew. A superimposed figure has either been removed or was never completed. Figures III, IV and V are St Simon, St James and St Andrew. Superimposed figure VI is clearly St Jerome, wearing his cardinal's robes. Providentially, the superimposition is damaged in exactly the right place to see that the figure behind is holding a key, and is thus St Peter.

On the south side, the first figure super imposed is clearly St Gregory. He wears a papal crown and carries a papal cross. The figure beneath is unidentifiable, although I believe that what appears to be a white shell on his head is actually a fragment of the later superimposition. Most likely, it is St Paul to match St Peter across the doorway.

Superimposed figure VIII is St Augustine, and IX is St Ambrose (Ann Eljenholm Nichols' identification of this last as St Anselm is a proofing error, I think). As with panel VII, it is not possible to discern who the figures underneath are. Figures X, XI and XII are St Philip, St Jude and St James the Less. The last two panels appear to have been at least prepared for superimposition.

There were once doors, with two panels each. These depicted St Apollonia, St Catherine, St Margaret, and St Mary of Magdala. Williamson identified two of these, and one other, as being loose panels in the vestry in 1950. Their location since is unclear. But it is a lovely screen, and not without a frisson of excitement. It would be nice to think that one day it could be put back on public display, possibly even at Lessingham church. Of course, with the chancel gone that would create some logistical difficulties, and of course there may well be other sensible reasons that the parish would prefer not to take on the responsibility for the screen. But I do wish it could be displayed again somewhere. And you can't help wondering what happened to the door panels. Did they also go to St Peter Hungate? Are they somewhere in storage, even now?

Simon Knott, September 2021

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