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St Peter,
Melton Constable
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Melton
Constable Hall was home to generations of
Astleys, the Earls of Hastings, and the village
was little more than their fiefdom. However, in
the second half of the 19th century it became the
major railway junction of central Norfolk, the
village street augmented by rows of red-brick
terraces as if this was east Norwich or south
Ipswich. The parish church was out on the estate
of the Hall, and the Astley family did not waver
in their iron control of the parish church, or,
one assumes, of the imaginations and activities
of its parishioners, as we shall see. |
The church
is in a network of lanes to the south-west of the
village, these being the lanes of the Hall estate. Melton
Constable Hall sits at the heart, but all around there
are cottages and terraces, the homes of former
farmworkers, gamekeepers, farriers and the like.
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Having
recently visited Castle Rising church, I was
surprised to find that St Peter is a miniature
echo of it, a Norman cruciform church on a
smaller scale. In fact, it was extensively
refashioned in the 15th century, when the chancel
was rebuilt, the south transept demolished and
replaced by a flat wall that includes an
intriguing detail, and then in the 17th century
came the event that makes this building
remarkable, the building of the Hastings
mausoleum. You'll need to get inside
to explore any of this. There are churchwardens
listed, but without either directions or
telephone numbers. If you plan to visit, please
feel free to contact me for this information.
John Salmon, my companion on this visit, was
particularly excited, because on several previous
occasions he had been unable to do anything more
than stare through the window. His patience was
about to be richly rewarded.
You
enter though the vestry door in the north
transept, and find yourself overwhelmed by the
William Wailes crucifixion (see John Salmon's
image, left). It is completely out of scale, but
this humbling experience prefigures much of what
you will see inside here.
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You
step through into the nave. Mortlock memorably
described this church as being like an opera set
inside, and that is exactly right - it is small,
but stately, with outrageously grand fixtures and
fittings. Above the stone chancel arch is an
absolutely enormous double arch separated by a
huge central pillar. If someone told you that it
had been reset here from Durham Cathedral, you'd
believe it. To the south of the nave, elevated
and accessed by a massive staircase, is the
Hastings mausoleum - or, more accurately, the
family pew, as the mausoleum is below it. It is
lush and crisp in its whiteness, like a state
room. This, and the nave, are packed with about
twenty wordy Astley memorials, all detailing
grand lives, family history and often unfortunate
deaths. |
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They make
fascinating reading. That the Astleys thought highly of
themselves is self-evident - witness the Astley on the
war memorial with his name twice as large as everyone
else! - but these are some of the grandest, most
elaborate memorials you'll come across in a Norfolk
village church. One of the churchwardens told me that the
current Lord Hastings, who is ninety years old and
chooses to live in the family's even grander Seaton
Delaval Hall in Newcastle, has recently offered to pay
for their refurbishment. A good thing too, because they
would certainly be a cross to bear for the average PCC. A
selection is below - click on them to enlarge them.
   
There is a collection of European
glass in a north nave window. It isn't great, but two
panels are of particular interest; one, in 16th century
English, records that Synne and Iniquite bring them
to Mysere, while another depicts a noblewoman
standing on a city wall holding a flower as she watches
something. This is familiar iconography from the story of
St George, and probably depicts her watching him dispatch
the dragon. To the west is Norfolk's grandest 18th
century font, looking as if it is made out of sugar.
This is all spectacular stuff, but
the church starts getting really interesting once you
step eastwards through the chancel arch. Suddenly, you
enter the 15th century, and here in the rebuilt south
wall is Melton Constable's greatest treasure. This is the
low side window, which still retains its original rebated
wooded shutter. And there is more. To the east of the
window is a stone bookrest, and to the west an alcove
seat. Here then, in its exact original form, is the seat
where an acolyte would sit and open the shutter to ring
the sanctus bell at the point of consecration in the
Mass. Why is it so far west of the altar? Simply, another
function of the shutter was to allow an updraft of air to
the rood, which was placed just behind and above the
acolyte's head. As the Priest elevated the host and it
became the body of Christ, the bell would ring and all
the candles would flicker. Just imagine.
There was
obviously another screen of some kind in the eastern arch
leading to the 15th century chancel, because there are
rebated alcoves set just above the springing. Slightly
higher, massive figure corbels support the roof - that to
the north depicts the Blessed Virgin as the Queen of
Heaven.
The
reredos opens out, revealing a Flemish triptych of the
17th century. Apparently, it came from the Hall, and was
probably collected along with the north window glass by
an enthusiastic antiquarian Astley in the early 19th
century. The crucifixion in the centre panel is flanked
by Christ in the garden of Gethsemane, and the bringing
down of the body of Christ from the cross.
I often
come across Norfolk village churches that are obviously
churches of the common people. Nothing could be further
from this than St Peter, but it has a certain charm that
arises partly from there not being many churches like
this. The presence of the Astley family is pretty
overwhelming. Mortlock recalls Jacob Astley, the Royalist
general who, on the eve of the Battle of Edgehill, coined
the famous prayer Lord, you know how busy I will be
this day. If I forget you, please do not forget me. But
quite clearly, the Astleys have set out to ensure that
they will never be forgotten.
Simon Knott, November 2005
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