Approaching from the north, the first things that strike us are the oculi (round windows) in the clerestory, and the rather mysterious north chapel.
The latter has three blocked windows on its north side, two of them round, the other round-headed, with tracery which has round arches at the top of each of its two lights (though the central mullion has gone). All this looks decidedly post-medieval; the east window seems at first glance to be a standard 15th century four-centred job, but on closer inspection proves to have no cusps on its tracery (and is thus very likely later than it first appears). This all hints that we're going to find something rather special inside, and we're not going to be disappointed.
But that comes a bit later, as on opening the door we're immediately presented with the Norman font, which has vigorous low-relief carvings in an excellent state of preservation.
Facing east is a stylised lily, with three circles or balls at the top. The design isn't quite symmetrical, though looks as if it was perhaps intended to be.
On the north side we find intertwined leaves or tendrils; again the composition isn't symmetrical as on the bottom left the tendril is over the encircling (and botanically impossible) stem, whereas on the right it's under, and the same is true (though the other way round) on each side at the top.
Another design with leaves and stems; less satisfying than the previous two panels.
And facing south a cross patonce (that is, with four equal arms, each ending in three lobes). More detailed descriptions can be found in the Corpus of Romanesque Sculpture in Britain and Ireland.
The church itself is largely earlier 14th century, though there are few if any decorative flourishes usually associated with the period. The nave arcades are octagonal with plain geometric capitals.
The best features of the nave are the ten wonderful corbels. They're obviously inspired by Norman carvings (perhaps reacting to the font as a starting point), but they're much too crisp to be that old (and would surely be much better known if they were 'genuine'). In fact they must date from the 1843 restoration by William Perry of Clare (about whom Dr Google and my books are silent), though they're a most unexpected artefact to find from that period. The nearest parallel to them that I can think of are the two carvings (serving no practical function) on the west front of Tickencote, Rutland (1792).
There are six human (or human-like) heads and two birds (a dove of the Holy Spirit and what looks like a duck). Most of the heads have almond eyes with the pupils and even irises delineated; three are grotesques, two of which are grimacing or shouting. I think my two favourites are the one with a piratical air about him, with a moustache seemingly fashioned from nasal hairs twisted in spirals, and the surprised-looking moustached cat-human hybrid. (Neither Bettley/Pevsner nor the cursory Statutory Listing mention the corbels.)
The pews with their rather regal poppyheads are from the same restoration.
As we walk down the nave we notice that the columns and capitals of the arcade leading to the north chapel are roughly the same as those of the nave, the arches are round rather than pointed.
And that the arches have Jacobean arabesque patterns on their soffits.
Within the chapel is a family pew, the screens surrounding which are fret cut with elaborate patterns including acorns, heart-like shapes and flowers. This is all a prelude to one of the biggest and best Jacobean monuments in the country.
It commemorates Sir Stephen Soame* (c.1540-1619), who was the second son of a minor Norfolk squire yet grew to be an immensely wealthy merchant, the Lord Mayor of London 1598-99 and a notable philanthropist; not bad going for someone from such a relatively obscure background. (His younger brother Robert did at least as well despite being even lower in the family pecking order, rising to be the Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge University four times - effectively the CEO of the whole organisation as the Chancellorship is a ceremonial role.) When he died he was worth at least £10,000 (the equivalent of about £2.3 million today), and possibly up to four times as much. His wife Anne (1555-1622) would not have been on her uppers when he died and could afford a lavish memorial. (Bettley/Pevsner attribute it to Jan Janssen, who was a Flemish painter, not a sculptor, and who as far as Dr Google is aware didn't visit let alone work in England. This could be a slip or typo for Gheerart Janssen Jr, better known as Gerard Johnson Jr (fl.1612-23), but this too seems vanishingly unlikely as, as far as I'm aware, nothing in his few known works are remotely on this scale or of this quality. His best known work (though the attribution is disputed) is the monument to Shakespeare in Stratford-on-Avon church, which infamously makes its exalted subject look like a provincial pork butcher.)
The central part of the monument is conventional enough. Stephen and Anne's alabaster effigies, hers a little lower and in front of his, lie recumbent, wearing his'n'hers ruffs. He is moustached, armoured (though he wasn't a soldier), balding, praying and portly; his feet have to be propped up by little cylinders, perhaps the only slightly ungainly touch in the whole composition. She doesn't pray, but has her left hand on her heart and holds a book in her right.
Behind them rises a marble arch with a lengthy inscription, heraldry and putti heads, and at the top a coat of arms flanked by figures of Death and Victory. There are hundreds of monuments similar to this of around this date all across the country.
What makes this one stand out are the two pavilions or tempietti, one on each side, and the figures within them. This isn't a unique feature: see for example the superb monument to Sir Charles Morrison in Watford, Herts, by Nicholas Stone (also of 1619), which has a baldacchino on each side, though they contain just one figure each. Soame's pavilions, which are tall with black marble columns and elaborate pediments, each house three figures. Stephen and Anne had eleven children (though two died in infancy), six sons and five daughters.
Also on the floor, immediately in front of their parents, but facing right, are three more daughters, on a slightly larger scale than the other children; they're the closest thing the monument offers to conventional weepers.
The right pavilion is similarly arranged to that on the left, except both the sons kneel on one knee and the daughter above and behind them prays rather than carries a skull. On the floor on the far right the fifth son kneels and prays.
What makes the children so notable is that they're individuals, not clones as Jacobean (and earlier) monuments usually depict them. Unsurprisingly they share a family resemblance and some of them are quite similar to each other - we have to look quite closely to distinguish between the three daughters at the front, for example - but they are recognisably different from each other. It's tempting to think that they must be portraits, and maybe they are, but we should be careful when making this assumption as this wasn't the norm at the time.
As well as commissioning the monument Anne also 'buylded this new ile [aisle]' (according to the inscription), though we're more likely to refer to it as a chapel today. This is what we noticed on our approach. The roof has Jacobean pendants, and there's a contemporary stained glass tondo with the inscription 'In Ceole Quies' ('Rest/Peace in Heaven). The oculi in the north clerestory also date from this time; the round windows with trefoils on the south are Victorian. Norman, Jacobean and Victorian: working very nicely together.
Little Thurlow church has been open when I've visited. The chapel is a bit gloomy, but if you follow the cable from the powerful light opposite the monument all the way to the plug switch in the pew on the east wall you'll solve the problem.
* There's an exceptionally full Wikipedia entry about him, and The History of Parliament website is also useful. He has no entry in the Dictionary of National Biography (though his brother Robert has, where the surname is spelt Some.)
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