ST BARTHOLOMEW. 1850 by Ewan Christian. Quite ambitious, of freestone with a tall steeple with spire. With the erection of this church the old church became superfluous.
WICKHAM BISHOPS. In the fields, a few yards from the 15th century doorway of a cottage, we came upon an ill-used and deserted church with a shingle spire on a wooden turret. The Normans built it, using Roman bricks for the corners of the chancel and Roman tiles for a doorway. The doorway has been replaced with a medieval brick porch, and there is still hanging in it a door 500 years old. We found the tie-beams of the 15th century roof still strong, but the rest was a picture of desolation, with the pavement broken round the font, which had a lid 500 years ago to prevent the holy water from being stolen for black magic. On the altar is a gravestone with the word Resurgam, and we may hope it will be prophetic for the old church. Only its 600-year-old chest has been moved to the new church with the lofty spire.
Still ringed round with its moat is Wickham Hall, a timbered Stuart house with 15th century glass painted with lively little birds.
Simon K -
Open. The outer and inner doors were both wedged open. This is a restrained yet large High Victorian fantasia. It is built on the highest hill for miles around, with fine views (although views in Essex rarely feature anything of interest, I find).
The interior still retains much of its High Victorian charm, and the tradition here is still Anglo-Catholic. A half dozen people were clearing up the churchyard, and were alarmingly friendly. They offered me hot drinks and a bacon sandwich, both of which I politely declined. They chatted about what I was doing, and where I was going. In the end I had to drag myself away from them.
This parish has one very odd claim to fame. During the Commonwealth, when the Church of England was suppressed and all manner of weird and wonderful biblical fundamentalist sects were let off the leash by their fascist champion Oliver Cromwell, the intruder minister at St Bartholomew's predecessor church was the puritan preacher Joseph Billio, whose sermons were delivered with such speed and gusto that they gave rise to the expression 'to go like Billio'. It must be said that he actually achieved fame at the nearby Maldon Congregational chapel.
Still ringed round with its moat is Wickham Hall, a timbered Stuart house with 15th century glass painted with lively little birds.
Simon K -
Open. The outer and inner doors were both wedged open. This is a restrained yet large High Victorian fantasia. It is built on the highest hill for miles around, with fine views (although views in Essex rarely feature anything of interest, I find).
The interior still retains much of its High Victorian charm, and the tradition here is still Anglo-Catholic. A half dozen people were clearing up the churchyard, and were alarmingly friendly. They offered me hot drinks and a bacon sandwich, both of which I politely declined. They chatted about what I was doing, and where I was going. In the end I had to drag myself away from them.
This parish has one very odd claim to fame. During the Commonwealth, when the Church of England was suppressed and all manner of weird and wonderful biblical fundamentalist sects were let off the leash by their fascist champion Oliver Cromwell, the intruder minister at St Bartholomew's predecessor church was the puritan preacher Joseph Billio, whose sermons were delivered with such speed and gusto that they gave rise to the expression 'to go like Billio'. It must be said that he actually achieved fame at the nearby Maldon Congregational chapel.
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