Externally, this
is one of the great English churches. Its setting is
superb, wholly urban, and yet conscious of its presence
in an ancient space. The narrow churchyard climbs away
from it, surrounded on two sides by the church house and
other 18th and 19th century houses. To the north is the
Market Square, and a stairway leads down from it to the
great porch. The whole thing is just about perfect, the
relationship between town and church expressed exactly.
The tower is one of Suffolk's biggest, bold and dramatic
in the landscape, particularly when seen from the
quayside. Close up, it is even more so, because it rises
from below the level of the graveyard, sheer up for more
than a hundred feet, a stark, clinical job of the late
15th Century. St Mary has much in common with Southwold
St Edmund, being only slightly smaller, and built all in
one go over a similar period and timescale. However, the
tower of St Edmund is a riot of flushwork, and here the
flint is sparer, cleaner, more precise. This only serves
to accentuate the splendour of the great north porch
through which you enter the church, past the dole
cupboard of John Sayer, 1638. This bequest provided bread
for the poor of the Parish, and was still in operation up
to the middle years of the 20th Century.
Through the great doors is a fine, grand Victorian
interior, the work of Richard Phipson. The overall effect
is reminiscent of his rebuilding of Ipswich St Mary le
Tower, although the nave here is not encumbered by that
church's unfortunate heavy glass. Here, you find yourself
in a wide, light space, a seemly setting for a number of
fascinating medieval survivals. The greatest of these is
St Mary's Seven Sacrament font, one of thirteen survivals
in Suffolk. It now stands at the west end of the south
aisle, under the exquisite 1937 font cover by Walter
Forsyth.
The panels show the sacraments of the Catholic Church,
and are a reminder that our Medieval churches were not
built for congregational Anglican worship. The panels are
a bit battered, but are all recognisable. Despite
Cautley's doubts about the rayed backgrounds, it seems
likely that it was a product of the same workshop as the
fonts at Denston and Great Glemham. As on the Great
Glemham font, there is a lily crucifix on the stem. The
butterfly head dresses of the women date it to the 1480s,
making it contemporary with the other two.
The panels are, in clockwise order from the north,
Ordination, Matrimony (the two sacraments of service),
Baptism, Confirmation (the two sacraments of commission),
Reconciliation, Mass, Last Rites (along with
Reconciliation, one of the two sacraments of healing)
and, in the final eighth panel, the Crucifixion. This
last panel, anathema to the protestants of the 1540s, has
been paid particular attention by them.
The survival of so
much Catholic imagery, when we know that the 17th century
puritans were particularly active in this area, may seem
surprising. But, ironically enough, it is a result of the
destruction of a century earlier. During the early
Reformation of the 1540s, Woodbridge was wholeheartedly
Anglican, and the wrecking crew went to work with a
vengeance. The destruction here probably took place in
the Autumn of 1547, during the first months of Edward
VI's reign, when there was a free-for-all in places like
Suffolk. The easiest way to deal with the font was to
knock off the more prominent relief, and plaster the
whole thing over. When Dowsing and his Biblical
fundamentalists arrived at this church almost a century
later on the 27th January 1644, they found very little to
do.
The Anglicans had also
destroyed the roodscreen, for in 1631, 13 years before
the visit of William Dowsing, the antiquarian Weever
lamented the fact that how glorious it was when it
was all standing can be discerned by what remaineth, showing
that its destruction had occured before the Puritans were
ever on the scene, despite decrees of the time that this
should not happen. it should be added, however, that
Weever was probably using the word 'glorious' with its
early modern connotations of 'pretentious'. What survives
are two ranges of ten panels, about a third of the
original number, which have been placed in recent years
on the west and south walls by the font. They are
splendid, although their protective glass makes
photographing them rather awkward. Part of the donor's
description survives, but nothing above the dado rail.
The modern screen has been recently curtailed, and the
surviving panels placed behind the organ. They are
actually pretty good, including attempted replicas of
some of the medieval panels, the figures a bit like the
same artist's work in the sanctuary at St Mary le Tower.
Also in this aisle there's a grand memorial of the 1620s
to Geoffrey Pitman, climbing to heaven in tiers that seem
rather extravagant for a town weaver and tanner, but a
weaver in Suffolk might be the equivalent of a factory
owner elsewhere. Two hundred years previously, another
Woodbridge weaver had donated the screen.
The high sanctuary and
reredos reflect St Mary's High Church tradition in the
20th Century. The reredos was the 1950s work of Walter
Forsyth whose font cover we have already met. It is in
the plain, even serious, style typical of that decade,
the saints and their niches painted and gilded standing
out all the more for their setting. The vestry on the
south side of the chancel has been converted into a
chapel for quiet prayer, furnished in a seemly manner
with a Blessed Virgin and child statue that may also be
the work of Walter Forsyth, and the Lord's Prayer
engraved soberly about a cross on slate. The reredos is a
curiosity, an early 20th Century period piece depicting
the adoration of the Magi by Rupert Corbauld. It came
from a church in Lewisham. Up in a window is a 15th
Century shield of the Holy Trinity, the only old glass in
the church apart from a jumble of heraldic pieces
collected at the west end of the north aisle.
There is a single surviving brass attached to the chancel
arch, a decent pulpit and some hatchments, all you'd
expect from a town church. But one of the glories of this
place is even more modern. This is the gorgeous memorial
glass in the east window by Martin Travers. As with the
reredos in the chapel it shows the adoration of the Magi,
and was installed shortly after World War II. There is a
similar window by Travers at the remote Broads church of
Thurne in Norfolk. Most of the glass in the nave is the
work of AL Moore in his familiar style, one window
marking the diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria. A few
years later brought the crop of memorials to young local
boys killed in the First World War, now collected
together under the tower, which make for some harrowing
reading.
A memorial you might miss is set just to the south of the
nave altar. A simple block of black marble bears a
crudely carved inscription, probably 17th Century , which
remembers that Yong Henry Grome a lovely babe here
lies confind in dust under this marble stone, who
precious was in tender parents eyes yet shortly veiwd the
workd and now is gone. Oh learn we then to draw our
dearest love from transient treasures to the loves above.
A church full of interesting and moving details, then.
The overwhelming impression is of Phipson's excellent
19th Century work in a perfect 15th century coating, one
of Suffolk's best fonts, and a sense of duty being
fulfilled by those who care for it all. This church
always seems to be open and welcoming, and reflects
Woodbridge's pride in itself as a proper town, despite
its size. A proud church in a proud little town. And this
is a church so visitor-friendly that it even has cycle
parking in its fascinating graveyard. This is a national
treasure - the graveyard, not the cycle rack - a gorgeous
verdant cushion for its large jewel. To the north-west of
the church is a table tomb with skull, bones and last
trump carved in relief on its side.
I walked up to the top of the bank, bringing me level
with the statues in the porch alcoves. I looked across at
the stunningly pretty houses that open out into the
graveyard. Quite what you have to do to deserve to live
in one, I'm not sure. But I resolved immediately to start
doing the National Lottery, just in case.
