Wantage has a strong Saxon heritage, being the birthplace of possibly the most famous man of the Saxon era, King Alfred the Great. The town is proud of this connection (well, why wouldn't you be?) as is attested by many local business/pub names and the 1877 statue of him in the marketplace. The church guide also attempts to claim Alfred as a parishioner, attesting that, while no evidence exists, it is reasonable to assume that Alfred worshipped in a Saxon church in this location. It is true that the present church stands on a Saxon site, possibly dating back all the way to the 8th century, but no fabric from this time remains, the traces of Alfred's Wantage forever vanished.

The present, cruciform plan of the building dates from the 13th century; the tower with its gargantuan crossing pillars and the nave arcade date from this time, as does some fabric in the transept walls. Only a couple of the church's windows are 13th century, with a small lancet in the west wall of the south transept and the double west windows making up the full corpus. 14th century work includes the octagonal southwest stair turret to the tower, but little other substantial contemporary work was carried out in the building.

It is in the 15th century that Wantage's present church truly begins to take shape; the chancel was substantially rebuilt and given new windows, and a chapel was built onto the east end of each transept. The north chapel became the Fitzwaryn Chantry, while the south chapel, an L-shaped construction originally given as a chantry by the Trades Guilds of Wantage, became the Lady Chapel and Holy Souls Chapel. The parclose screens between these chapels and the chancel are also 15th century. In the remainder of the building, yet more work was carried out; the aisles gained new windows, as did the north transept, the nave gained a clerestory and a new hammerbeam roof, and a south porch was built at the centre of the south aisle. This spell of 15th century rebuilding has given the church the majority of its present-day fabric, and it is the 15th century that can be most felt within the building.

The next few centuries were, as is often the case, less eventful regarding the building itself being chopped and changed, though of course the Reformation surely left its mark, and so for the next substantial changes to the church's fabric we must look no further than the Victorians. The primary restoration of the church took place in 1857 under the supervision of G. E. Street, a rather eminent architect whose most famous work is the Royal Courts of Justice in London. Despite this lofty commission, Street's church restoration work can wildly vary in its quality, and whilst his treatment of Wantage was certainly comprehensive, it was thankfully not particularly unkind. Notably, Street replaced the east window with a design of his own, which is far from the worst I have seen, and enacted the same fate upon the south transept window. He also added a bizarre little clerestory in the chancel, to no great avail, and customarily replaced the pews, pulpit, chancel roof, and flooring, and added a sacristy to the northeast. A second wave of restoration was undertaken from 1877-81 by William Butterfield, one of the more maverick architects of his day, but his work at Wantage was mostly limited to the extension of the nave by a bay to the west in order to increase the capacity of the building. He did this while reusing the extant west window and lengthening the nave arcade and roof in a greatly sympathetic style. The other, slightly odd component of his work involved moving the south porch to the far east of the building and inserting another strange door into the south transept. One final Victorian restoration occured in 1895, with G. F. Bodley restoring the Lady Chapel in memory of the Reverend W. J. Butler.

The most recent reordering of the church took place in the 1990s, with the organ being moved to the west end of the nave and being given a smart new case and set of choir stalls, creating a singularly unusual layout with the choir at the west. Kitchen and toilet facilities were also added, contributing to the church's ability to remain an active part of the community today.

The information here has been taken variously from the church guide (leaflet available from the church), the church website, and the Historic England listing.

The town of Wantage is pretty much what one might expect from a reasonably sized provincial town in modern Britain; a long history and some long-standing buildings must contend with post-war redevelopment and a clone army of new-build homes choking the historic core, as well as one of my personal pet peeves - a marketplace constantly full of parked cars! However, it must be said that the environs of the church itself are rather splendid, with a full circumnavigation of the building possible, leaving its surroundings feeling spacious and curated to accentuate it as the centrepiece of its vicinity. The tower is not particularly prominent, but nonetheless can provide some lovely aspects, especially if approaching from the east or south.

Entering the church through the strange Victorian doorway is a little counterintuitive, but not the strangest configuration I have seen by a long way. The building's interior is dark, perhaps too dark; there is electric lighting available and it tries its very best to illuminate the church, but there is simply too much Victorian stained glass in the building for it to be able to open up the space at all. In fact, Wantage's is the only church I have ever known to have stained glass installed in the clerestory windows; surely this totally defeats the point! At any rate, the darkness in the building is not dingy, but rather muted and intimate, and I am perfectly willing to accept it as simply an occupational hazard. The thickly clustered piers of the crossing are foreboding and shrink the space a little with their weight, but the west end is a total contrast with its fresh woodwork and wide organ. Despite being rife with parclose screens, the east end too is a navigable and fluid space. There is little feeling of ancient sanctity here, but in contrast there is a strong feeling of modern use, and that is just as valuable.

As far as collections of monumental brasses go, Wantage's is an especially adept demonstration of their progression as an art form throughout history, ranging from their establishment and heyday to their eventual decline and deterioration. As such, despite usually covering each brass under a separate heading, I feel that in this case it is best to present them together. There are no fewer than five examples of effigial brasses remaining in the church, two ecclesiastical, two civilian, and one martial, these ranging in date from the 14th to the 17th centuries. None of them survive in their original ledger stones but are rather affixed to the wall as murals, a job which has been carried out to varying degrees of success. Through Wantage's brasses, the history of an entire industry can be traced, its life cycle plotted, and its artistry evaluated. Without further ado, then, let's meet them!

The church's earliest example is, as is very often the case, the best in quality. It is located remounted on a wooden board affixed to the north wall of the chancel and depicts a demi-effigy of a priest in mass vestments. Estimates of its date range from c.1330-1370, though I am inclined to place it on the earlier side, as it shares much stylistic continuity with other early brass figures of priests. It is unknown who is commemorated, though it is likely a 14th century vicar of the church (contenders being Richard de Burmyngham and William White), and so we must stare into his eyes through the mists of time equally aware of the hand of the engraver as the face of the departed.

His expression is doleful, his constitution sinewy, and his hands are clasped elegantly in prayer. His collar and cuffs are neatly ornamented with quatrefoil-reminiscent flowers, and he seems to wear a zucchetto atop his head, although it may well just be a poorly represented tonsure. The engraving work is exceptional, with the flowing lines of the figure's hair and robes being executed most successfully, and the bold features of his countenance being expressive and neat. This is the English memorial brass at its stylistic apotheosis; a careful piece of craftsmanship and a most welcome survival.

The lion at Sir Ivo's feet, a proud and distinguished looking creature. | Taken 07/05/25

Aside from the brasses in the church, the most notable memorial is to be found against the north wall of the chancel. This is the tomb of Sir William Fitzwaryn (d.1361) and his wife Amicia (née Haddon). It is a dreadfully broken and battered sight, the soft alabaster having been abused and weathered, teeming with graffiti, but one can still imagine its glory days as a monument to these local holders of power. Sir William had an extenensive military career (with his aforementioned son Ivo following in his footsteps), acting as Governor of Montgomery Castle and accompanying King Edward III on campaigns in France and Flanders, including a commanding role during the Battle of Crécy in 1346. Like his son, he was also called to parliament and had extensive land holdings, made even more numerous through his marriage to Amicia, the daughter and heir of Sir Henry Haddon.

Another feature of much interest in Wantage's church are the 15th century stalls located in the chancel. An array of fine woodwork is on display here, with misericords, bench-ends, and poppyheads all valiantly represented, carved with a distinctively rough-hewn finish common to much medieval English woodwork. The collection was formerly the most extensive set of medieval choir stalls in Berkshire before the town of Wantage was reassigned to Oxfordshire in 1974 and usurped from this position.

I must admit that my photos of the misericords in particular are not comprehensive; the ancient hinges made an enormous racket, and I was too self-conscious to keep lifting them with the churchwarden around! As such, the couple I did manage to photograph were random and I unfortunately seem to have missed the most interesting ones. However, photos of the entire collection of 17 are viewable elsewhere, with many showing blank shields, but highlights including a double-headed eagle, a depiction of the Pelican in her Piety, a set of three flagons, and a couple of lion supporters.