On my wanderings around Norfolk’s wealth of churches, I tend to seek out the small, hidden medieval churches, often with their round towers, timeless, elegantly shabby interiors, and an almost tangible connection to the distant past. Yet Norfolk is rich in another type of church: the huge, sprawling giants that often sit solemnly in this once rich pastoral landscape. Such behemoths as Cawston, Salle and Cley are truly wondrous but two I visited recently grabbed my attention for differing reasons.
St Peter, Walpole St Peter, is perhaps the most stunning church I have visited, breath-taking is an understatement. St Mary, Beeston-next-Mileham, by contrast, is less well -known, sitting defiantly alone, and until a remarkable recent resurgence, was on life support. Two great churches, with two very different stories.
St Peter, Walpole St Peter, lies in the far west of the county, just a few miles from Cambridgeshire. The landscape around is flat, dare I say dull, and much of the architecture is one storey and lacklustre. Yet this cannot be said for the many impressive churches dotted around that indicate the huge wealth accrued in this area in the Middle Ages. This was partly bequeathed to endow the local churches and save the souls of the benefactors and their families. In the case of St Peter, this enormous fortune was used to almost completely rebuild the church after most was destroyed in devastating floods of the 1330s. It is easy to forget after the massive drainage work of the 17th century onwards just what a vulnerable landscape this once was. It may have given easy access to the rivers and sea and the markets that made the area rich, but it was also a recurrent and real danger, tragedy constantly threatening the lives of rich and poor alike.
‘The Queen of the Marshlands’ is a 14th/15th-century building of exquisite grace. Simon Jenkins gives it five stars, and it is universally regarded as one of the finest parish churches in the country. From the outside it is perfectly proportioned, full of lavish detail and set off by mighty windows. The render and reddish stonework in beautiful harmony, the building stands as a lesson in perpendicular architecture. The eye is drawn to the east end and a tunnel that runs under the chancel, known locally as ‘the bolt-hole’, a simple name for what is a sumptuous vaulted processional way with at least 12 stunning bosses. Exiting the tunnel from the north and walking clockwise, the dazzling features keep revealing themselves, until you come to the south porch. A stunning sight, all deep, canopied niches, weathered stone and a huge Tudor window. The porch has two stories; the upper, known as the parvise, housed the local school until the early 19th century.
It seems impossible, but the interior of the church, in the main image, is equal to, if not superior to, the exterior. Light streams through the numerous clear windows of the nave and clerestory. The colours of pale stone and deliciously aged oak wash over you, a soothing balm to the soul. The space is immense, 160 feet in length, yet at the same time it feels personal, not intimidating. Tucked in the corner on entering is something I have never seen before. Looking like a little sentry box, the hudd was used by the priest for protection from a soaking at a rainy funeral. Fittingly it was surrounded by plastic buckets, I couldn’t help wondering if the rain made it indoors at times too.
This is a space you could spend hours exploring, as if visiting several churches at once, so rich and varied are its fittings. The magnificent font cover, the exquisite rood screen, the parclose screen with its spiked iron gate, the box pews, the sumptuous 17th century pews with square ends and pierced tracery backs, the misericords – the list is almost endless and far too long to describe here. I left, knowing I would definitely return.
From the well-endowed grandeur of Walpole St Peter, St Mary, Beeston-next-Mileham, has a very different story. Here, the fortunes of the past had long faded, and St Mary’s survival into the present day was once in doubt. Yet thanks to dedication and lottery money, this lonely, wonderful church has found a new lease of life. Situated in the narrow lanes near Litcham, St Mary stands alone on a ridge, a mile or so from the modern village. Though not on the same scale as St Peter, it remains an impressive parish church. Predominantly 14th century, unusually for Norfolk, it has a spire, rebuilt in brick after storm damage in the mid-nineteenth century. The reticulated tracery of the east window is delightful as are the aisle and clerestory windows, elegant and enduring.
The interior is a joy. The morning light sets off the ancient brick flooring, the silvery wood of the hammerbeam roof and pews gives the space a honeyed warmth. The font has the tell-tale green colouring of damp, but this is a church that was rescued by the love and care of the parishioners. Looking down the nave, silhouetted by the east window, the rood screen is missing its top, the spikes of the ogee arches jaggedly point up to the heavens. The images of the saints below are faded beyond recognition, nonetheless beautiful in their anonymity. On either side in the north and south aisle are parclose screens of ancient wood with delicate tracery. An elegant, slim pulpit from 1592 stands sentry nearby.
As in all churches, the juxtaposition between old and new is evident. These are the stories that bring life to the stones and speak of the enduring links between people and place. In this remote spot, the village website informs us, a wedding scene from the 1980’s comedy series ‘Allo ‘Allo! was filmed, causing a minor outbreak of star-spotting in the vicinity. Slightly less incongruously, The Norfolk Churches Trust organised two concerts here in 1990 with Dame Kiri Te Kanawa and the Russian pianist Andre Gavrilov, with special guest, Prince Charles.
But on the way out, in the well-kept churchyard, was the most surprising find. For here, on a white cross, was inscribed “Jem Mace, Champion of the World”. In this remote spot was a memorial to the birthplace of the predecessor of Muhammed Ali, Sugar Ray Robinson and all the boxing greats of the last two centuries. Born in the village, Jem Mace is seen as the father of modern boxing, moving from bare-knuckle fights to gloved contests. He was instrumental in the formation of the Queensbury Rules that still govern the sport and was a champion in this country, and also in America and Australia. He was a circus performer and impresario, innkeeper in Norwich, New York and Australia; married five times (at least once bigamously); fathered 14 children; made and lost a fortune and died penniless in Jarrow with only a violin to his name. Rather fittingly, D.P. Mortlock in ‘The Guide to Norfolk Churches’ points out that just across the path is a gravestone to a certain Henry Cooper!
As I left Beeston-next-Mileham, I couldn’t help thinking how these two grand churches each embody something of Norfolk’s soul. Walpole St Peter rises in splendour from the flatlands, a monument to faith and fortune; Beeston, quiet and resilient, stands for endurance and renewal.
Rob Gladstone October 2025
