One of the things which has intrigued me about Norfolk is the number of country parishes which have clearly had an Anglo-Catholic tradition. I observed this on Walk 5 at Burgh St Peter. It’s not just a Walsingham phenomenon, because there are village churches across the county and diocese which are well off the beaten pilgrimage track. Off the top of my head, I can think of Castle Acre, West Runton, Lound (in Suffolk, but Norwich Diocese), Walpole St Peter (Diocese of Ely, but in Norfolk), and the two which were the focus for today’s walk: the neighbouring villages of Calthorpe and Erpingham.
Statue of St Thomas Becket at Erpingham
I mentioned this quandary to Fr Richard Stanton earlier this week. He is Vicar of St John Timberhill, in Norwich, and, before the Brooke report, Norwich too had a higher-than-one-would-expect proportion of Catholic parishes. Fr Richard reminded me of Fr Blagdon-Gamlen’s The Church Travellers Directory. Published in 1973, it listed every church in the kingdom which had one or more of what became known as the ‘Catholic privileges’: daily Mass (D), a Sung Eucharist at the same time every Sunday (S), advertised times for the sacrament of Confession (C), and perpetual reservation of the Blessed Sacrament (R).
In 1973, Norfolk had no fewer than 110 churches with one or more of these designations. 18 of them had all four – known as ‘full Catholic privileges’. For comparison, neighbouring Suffolk –notably more Protestant-minded territory – had only 58 churches listed.
It’s interesting to note that this guide is contemporary with Betjeman’s A Passion for Churches. A lot has changed in the last half century. I cannot recall visiting a single village church in the last three months which has a Eucharist – sung or said – every Sunday, except Little and Great Walsingham. There is a myriad of reasons for this. One is the gradual shrinkage of the Catholic movement in the Church of England, a movement which was arguably at its peak in the 1970s. Another is the general decline in attendance in village churches, and yet another is the increasing scarcity of priests. These factors have led to the creation of multi-parish benefices, and a tendency towards a ‘one size fits all’ religion.
I would need another sabbatical to do a proper study of Anglo-Catholicism in Norfolk. (Perhaps it’s already been done, in which case someone please tell me!) But I was keen to revisit Calthorpe and Erpingham after many years. I vividly recalled them having ‘country Catholic’ interiors. ‘Country Catholicism’ was (is) different to urban Anglo-Catholicism. Where the movement was brought to rural villages it was rarely as exotic as it was in the biretta belts of London and Brighton. (Again, Walsingham is an exception; but then Walsingham is exceptional.)
Calthorpe
Our Lady and St Margaret, Calthorpe is architecturally unremarkable. According to his memorial in Erpingham, the Revd Percival Sydney Raby became Rector of neighbouring Ingworth (which I now wish I had included on this walk) in 1930 and, additionally, Vicar here in 1931. I would bet my house that it was he who furnished this church for Catholic worship. He did so – and I say this with the greatest possible respect, because I find it all utterly charming – on the cheap.
There are altars both sides of the chancel arch, as there would have been pre-Reformation. The one on the north side, tucked behind the pulpit, is perfectly aligned with the squint to the high altar. (Well, of course it is!) The other contains a small tabernacle for reserving the Blessed Sacrament. There is a rood above the chancel arch, with figures of Our Lady and the Beloved Disciple either side of the crucifix. The walls are lined with the Stations of the Cross, presumably painted by a local artist. Dotted around the church are tiny shrines to Our Lady, St Margaret and the Sacred Heart, each with a small votive lamp and cheap bit of curtain as a fall.
Interior, Calthorpe
In 1944 Raby become Rector of Erpingham with Calthorpe, and held this post until 1962, aged 61. His memorial doesn’t mention any subsequent posts. He died on 7 December 1982. I wonder what he did for the last two decades of his life.
We crossed the Scarrow Beck, the little tributary of the Bure, to St Mary, Erpingham. This is a much grander church. The fine fifteenth century tower has the letters of the village’s name, alternated with crowned Ms for Mary, sculpted into its battlements.
Erpingham
Looking at the furnishings here it would appear that Raby had the opportunity – and resources – for a better-quality Catholicisation of a country parish. There are very beautiful statues of St John the Baptist, St Thomas Becket, St Joseph. The exquisite statue of Our Lady and the Christ Child was given in 1961 – so right at the end of Raby’s incumbency – in memory of mother and daughter Phyllis Mary and Philippa Mary Corbin, of Aylsham Hall. Aged 37 and 10, they tragically ‘died in the sea at Bacton’. There is a rood here too, this time on the rood screen, flanked by six (electrically lit) candles.
Raby rescued an assortment of continental stained glass from Blickling Hall, and, in memory of his parents, created from them a stunning east window. This glass returned to Blickling in 1994, and the National Trust installed a replica version. (I keep meaning to mention that I'm posting a lot more photos of these churches on my Instagram page, and also on the 'Historic Churches of Norfolk' Facebook group.)
There is also the most peculiar of tabernacles behind the high altar. It’s carved and painted in the Gothic style, and is very worthy. But it is not at the centre of an altar, as tabernacles should be. Mortlock claims that’s because it’s designed to be in line with the west door; except it isn’t. Simon Knott thinks it’s so that it is visible from the side altar through a medieval squint. But squints were really designed so that a priest celebrating the Mass in a side chapel could see the priest at the high altar celebrating simultaneously. My theory is that Raby had to seek permission for its installation from ecclesiastical authorities. By placing it off-centre, he could claim it was an aumbry rather than a tabernacle, a subtle difference which would soften a bishop with low church sensibilities.
Interior, Erpingham
There is even that most potent of statement pieces in an Anglo-Catholic church: an image of Charles, King and Martyr. All this – and more – shows Raby confidently establishing Erpingham as a parish firmly in the Catholic tradition of the Church of England. In 1973, over a decade after his departure, it was still ‘SCR’, so Sung Eucharist, Confessions, and Reserved Sacrament. Calthorpe was ‘CR’.
When I was last here, about a decade ago, the parishes were in vacancy, and there were builders in Erpingham installing a loo and kitchenette. It was hard to get a feel for the place. Today there is an interim, part-time, priest-in-charge – a well-respected and long-serving priest of the Diocese, who has recently ‘retired’ - who also has Alby, Gunton, Hanworth, Ingworth and Thwaite in her care.
There is a ‘Parish Communion’ on three Sundays a month at Erpingham, as well as weekly midweek service, and a ‘Group Service’ on the first and fifth Sundays, which moves around the other villages. The Blessed Sacrament appears to be reserved still at Erpingham, but not at Calthorpe. (Indeed, it shouldn’t be reserved at a church where there isn’t a regular celebration of the Eucharist.) Calthorpe feels as though it’s really a museum to its Catholic past. But Erpingham feels happy and healthy. I’d quite like to come here on a Sunday, and find out more about the parish’s Catholic history. Is there anyone still around who was here in Fr Raby’s incumbency? What were the perceptions of country Catholicism among rural churchgoers? Is there still any sense of a Catholic tradition?
Now, for readers who are here for descriptions of church architecture, or charming accounts of the people I am meeting, I apologise for what has – unintentionally – become an essay in rural Anglo-Catholcism. Let’s try and make it up to you in the remaining paragraphs…
I was accompanied on this and yesterday’s walk by Canon Stephen Gallagher. He is the Vicar of St Peter and St Paul, Enfield Lock, and also Area Dean of Enfield, the deanery which includes my parish. Why on earth would I invite my Area Dean to join me for part of my sabbatical? Well, I am married to his daughter. Elise, my wife, vowed years ago that she would marry neither a priest nor a football fan. In me, she has failed.
Stephen, and his wife Judith, grew up in Bishop Auckland in County Durham. He trained at Chichester Theological College in the late 1980s before returning to the Diocese of Durham as a curate in Hartlepool in 1989. Maybe the reason I’ve focussed so much on Anglo-Catholicism in this blog post is because he is part of that last generation of men to be ordained in the zenith of Anglo-Catholicism.
Stephen has a Norfolk connection too, as he spent nine years working at the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham. He headed up the children’s and youth ministry, including an incredibly fruitful ‘Year-4-God’ scheme for young adults. Judith is an early-years teacher, and taught in the primary schools in Wells and Burnham Market, and also did a stint as churchwarden of St Mary’s, Walsingham.
Alby
From Erpingham, we walked through fields of wheat to St Ethelbert, Alby, one of four Norfolk churches dedicated to this eighth century King of East Anglia. There are four consecration crosses here, not painted, but inscribed coarsely into the wall. This church has a new roof, and has clearly benefitted from recent restoration. This is North Norfolk at its quietest and seemingly least populated. This church is remarkably well-kept given how little it is used.
Pulpit at Thwaite
Just half a mile down the road is All Saints, Thwaite, with its Norman round tower. This is what I call a proper round tower; no octagonal top! It enjoys a better setting than Alby, looking over the fields towards Erpingham. It’s also more interesting inside. The pulpit, backboard and tester are enjoying their 400th birthday this year. It’s a pity that, in a later century, someone has installed steps to it by cutting chunks out of the rood screen. This is why we now have faculty jurisdiction.
Not much further away, but in a different benefice, is St Mary, Aldborough. The tower collapsed in the eighteenth century, and the little Edwardian bell turret which has replaced it is decidedly suburban. Returning to my theme, this is also a parish which had some sense of a Catholic tradition in the past. There are good twentieth century stone statues of Mary and Jesus in both a niche over the south door and in the sanctuary. There is also an aumbry which still has its veil, but has also now been covered by one section of the curtains from the riddel posts. The electric light was not lit, so either the Sacrament is no longer reserved here, or they need a new light bulb. Bladgon-Gamlen listed this as ‘CR’.
Aldborough
This area north of Aylsham has a special quality. It’s the bit of Norfolk no one knows is here. I would love to learn more about Percival Raby, and the other clergy who brought Anglo-Catholicism to rural Norfolk. I imagine there are some great stories. But, as I have said, that is another project. Today, I rejoiced in the inheritance of faith to which Raby and others have contributed, and continued to pray for the flourishing of God’s church here now and in the years to come.
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