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Dunwich
is a place that my family like to visit
in winter. Then, you can walk along the
lonely shingle beneath the cliffs, with
the wind coming in off the sea. It is
easy to imagine that a whole town could
disappear, for that is what happened
here. It happened elsewhere along this
coast as well, of course, and many
churches were lost in villages from here
to the Orwell. The difference with Dunwich
is that it had six parish churches, as
well as several other ex-parochial ones;
these disappeared over the centuries one
by one, until only All Saints was left, alone on
a cliff top. It was only used for
baptisms and funerals, and for nearly
eighty years, Dunwich had no parish
church at all; this, at a time when it
was still electing two Members of
Parliament! You can read the story of
these churches, and their destruction, on
the entry for All Saints.
West of the church of All
Saints, and outside the limits of the
town, were the Greyfriars Monastery, and
the leper hospital of St James. As a
consequence, ruins of these two
institutions survive today, and it was in
the grounds of the leper hospital that
the Diocese of Norwich built a new parish
church for the area in 1832.
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It
was in a grindingly classical style, quite out of
keeping with all Suffolk tradition, despite the
casual addition of a round tower. The architect
was Robert Appleton. Few pictures of this church
survive; over the next few years, the awakening
of interest in ecclesiastical history, and the
influence of the Oxford Movement, led to a complete
transformation of the new church; by the 1860s,
its tower had been replaced, and the body of the
church encased in flint. To look at it today, one
would never imagine that it had ever been
anything else.
In a county not renowned for
its 19th century churches, St James is
about as undistinguished as it is
possible to be. It is pleasant enough,
and has some interesting relics of its
medieval forbears in the town, including
a brass rescued from All Saints. But hardly
exciting. However, I have never visited
it without finding someone else looking
around the church; it is a welcoming
church, the signs and literature aware of
the opportunities for evangelism in a
tourist spot. I've never found this
church locked. The 19th century interior
is typically neat, and the glass is good.
The plainness inherited from the 1832
church serves it well.
Outside, the ruins of the
leper chapel are now the Barne mausoleum,
so you can't go in, which is a pity. But
you can make out the liturgical apparatus
at the east end. Don't miss the buttress
rescued from All Saints; but perhaps the
most remarkable thing in the churchyard
is a cast iron pedestal and urn at the
east end of the graveyard, almost
certainly a product of the leiston
ironworks. There is another nearby at Darsham.
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