5 June 2005

The Manor House of Bury St. Edmunds

Walking through the ancient cemetery that surrounds the amazing ruins found in the heart of Bury St. Edmunds, Cat expected to see a ghost around every corner. While we didn't see any ghosts (I suspect Cat was both relieved and disappointed), we did stumble upon a remarkable little gem ... the Manor House Museum.

The Manor House is a stunning example of an 18h-century townhouse, painstakingly restored in the 1980s. The museum exhibits combine three collections: art work, rare clocks and watches, plus costumes and textiles dating back to 1600. Local family portraits are scattered throughout the building, some giving a glimpse of scenes and people dating back hundreds of years. The art is not remarkable, but what is memorable about this huge "house" is everything else.

When we bought our tickets in the grand entry hall, a kindly elderly volunteer offered Cat a little map of the house and asked if she would like to be a detective. The little map gave clues of the whereabouts of a tiny mouse in each room (from "the mouse ran up the clock" fame). She was eager to be a sleuth and we were happy to have her energy focused on something besides how to hurry us along in a place that might normally be boring to a child.

At every turn there were treasures of art, clocks and textiles. And sure enough, the mouse was hiding in each room, so Jay and I had a few moments to appreciate the displays before Cat discovered the little rat and was tugging at us to hurry on (and the next sneaky little rodent).

The costume collection featured fine embroideries and outfits with ornate decorations. Amazing examples of ancient embroidered caps, waistcoats and dresses still appear to be in perfect condition. The 17th-century examples included sleeve-panels with strawberry designs in red silks and gold thread. The Tudor Rose, a symbol announcing support of the royal Tudors, appeared on several pieces of clothing -politics and fashion going hand-in-hand.

Victorian wedding dresses were on display in the dining room. Standing next to a giant Greek column was a magnificent white satin dress with tiny rows of buttons (how long did it take to button all of those things?) and a bustle on the back with an added bow (anything to make the bum look bigger) as well as a matching grayish-blue dress.

In the ballroom, floor-to-ceiling bay windows shed light onto exquisite examples of beaded 1920s "flapper style" dresses hung on mannequins. These stood casually around a huge white ornately carved mantle. A beaded cloth cap with strings of beads dangled down the neck of one model. Another stood in a tambour-beaded dress with a Paris label. This place was heaven to a "clothes horse" like me.

We learned that the horology (clocks) collection was bequeathed to the manor in 1953 in memory of local businessman's son, who was killed in World War II. What is most remarkable about this display (aside from the amazing craftsmanship) is how it highlights the many ways people have managed to keep track of time through the ages.

The collection ranges from tiny mechanisms to huge eight-day longcase clocks (grandfather clocks) in walnut veneer (1685). There is a gilt tinderbox alarm clock from 1750 as well as sundials, clocks, watches, mechanisms and clockmakers' equipment. They claim this is the finest collection anywhere in the world.

When all of the mice were found, we made our way to The Café in the bottom of the house. After a lovely cup of tea and a light lunch, we walked out into the bright sunlight to admire the architecture of the brick manor house and the tiny cottage gardens that fill this delightful town.

There is a strange peace in this old place. It has lived a long and interesting life, and now rests contented. Perhaps all the clocks have me thinking about time. In this place, a hundred years is but the blink of an eye. I will soon have to leave East Anglia ... and I will miss it. This place has taught me that I must always take the time for a nice cup of tea and a walk in the sun... that each excited little mouse that runs up the clock will eventually find its way back down.

Annie Warmke has returned to her home in Philo, but continues to write about her travels. You can visit her at www.bluerockstation.com.