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The Union School & Church was established around 1735 in Dillingersville, Pa. The building shown is the fourth on the site and was built in 1885.
A typical school day often began when the teacher went to the end of the path leading to the school building ringing a bell which signaled the start of the school day. A school day started at 8:00 A.M. and concluded at 5:00 P.M. with one hour for lunch.
German was the language taught exclusively. Eight grades were conducted by one teacher in the typical one-room building. The varying sizes of desks determined the grade in which a child was placed. Dunce stools were conspicuously placed for those students not performing to the best of their ability. Silence was mandatory; disturbances were dealt with by disciplinary flogging enforced by means of a hickory switch, wooden paddle, or leather strap.
Reading, writing, arithmetic, catechism, and singing were the subjects taught. Recitation was important since paper was scarce and expensive. Chalkboards and chalk were practically non-existent in the earlier days, and books were always in short supply. For the student's efforts, after eight years, his benefits included the ability to write his name, do simple figuring of pence, shillings, and pounds, and probably being able to boast of having read five or six books, not including the Bible; proving he was no longer average.
The Horn Book was probably the first book known to many of the settlers' children. It consisted of one page about the size of an ordinary spelling book, printed on one side only and attached to a wooden paddle-like board with a handle projecting from the bottom side. The sheet of paper was held in place with a brass frame and was covered with a thin transparent sheet of horn; thus the origin of it's name. The page was prefaced with the cross, often called the 'crises-cross', followed by the small and large letters of the alphabet; vowels and single consonants, the Lord's Prayer and on some the Roman numerals one to ten.
Early church schools such as the Dillinger School had A-B-C books, at that time, printed in the German language.
Outbuildings housed the toilet facilities used both in summer and winter. Water was brought to the schoolhouse from the source ( a springhouse is located several hundred yards from this building) and dipped as needed. Wood was gathered from the land and stored in the woodbox ready to feed the pot-bellied stove to provide adequate warmth at least to those students within close range of it while the other students never became comfortably warm.
Wooden peg coat racks lined the walls with shelves above where lunch boxes or baskets and later possibly paper bags were kept until the lunch break.
Most of the teachers were men who frequently doubled as the preacher.
During the planting and harvesting seasons the older children's attendance was intermittent thereby making it imperative for perfect attendance during the earlier years.
Candles or kerosene lamps provided the source of light. A suspended wall divider made it possible to divide the one room into two distinct sections. These doors were easily retracted into the space above the ceiling.
In 1867 the organization incorporated through the Lehigh County Court of Common Pleas in the name of the Union School and Church Association.
The fourth and present building is basically constructed of shaped field stone masonry, a Bangor slate roof with an octagonal spire which houses the bell in a cupola topped with a finial weathervane, typical of 18th century architecture.
Inside typical four-foot wainscot, pineboard flooring, double hung four-over-four windows simulating the Italianic influence in tall casements are to be noted.
A kerosene hanging light with nine etched glass globes directed upward toward a heavy ornate glass reflects the light and this is surrounded by a frame of copper. This beauty was donated to Dillingersville School around the time the present building was erected.
Source: Historic notes compiled by Sarmae Doney and Sandy Eck, 1976.
References: A.S .Berky's book, "Schoolhouse Near the Old Spring", The History of Lehigh County by C.C. Roberts, Schwenkfelder Library, Pennsburg, Pa.
Since 1088 the main church of Toledo has been recognised as the primate cathedral over all others within the kingdom. It was therefore necessary for it to have a worthy see, once the direct danger of Muslim invasions had receded after the Christian victory at Navas de Tolosa in 1212. It occupies a place that appears always to have been sacred, it being on the site of the relocated main mosque, the Visigoth cathedral replacing it, possibly built on top of an earlier one.
The construction of the current building began in 1226, the archbishop being Jiménez de Rada and during the reign of Fernando III “the Saint”. The names of the earliest architects are known: Martín, responsible for the French gothic style plans and his successor, Petrus Petri. The temple base is a Latin cross, called a hall, because of being included in the rectangular plan. The elevation marks the cross, creating a vertical triangular shape since the central nave and the transept are much wider and higher than the side naves, the exterior naves being the lowest.
It is very interesting to climb one of the towers in Toledo where you can get an aerial view of the roofs of the cathedral forming a perfect cross surrounded by aerial flying buttresses marked by slender pinnacles. Only this way, or from the vantage points in the valley can the majestic nature and complexity of this outstanding building be appreciated, hidden away in a hollow in the middle of the city.
The oldest door of the temple is that of the North transept, inspired by the corresponding door of Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, given the high influence that the French gothic style has on these entrances. The mullion with Virgin and Child introduces the theme of scenes from the life of Christ, sculpted on its tympanum. It is a type of catechism in stone for believers in the XIII Century. It should be read in order, starting from the lower left end, from the Assumption to the Final Judgement and the Death of the Virgin on the upper part.
Its present stone dome is from the beginning of the XVII Century, covering the Corpus Christi chapel, built on the orders of cardinal Cisneros on the recovery of the Mozarabic Rite, replaced by Catholic rites, coinciding with the Christian conquest of Toledo, 1085.
The tower, ninety metres high, was completed with a final octagonal body, finished with the slate alcuzon and three crowns designed by the master Hanequin of Brussels in the XV Century.
The main facade has three entrance doors, that of the “Pardon” or “Kings” in the centre, that of the “Palms” or “Hell” next to the tower and that of the “Scribes” or “Judgement” by the Mozarabic Chapel. There are another two, these being the aforementioned door at the North transept, called “the Fair”, “the Sandal Maker”, the “Lost Child” or the “Clock”, this installed on the orders of cardinal Lorenzana, at the end of the XVIII Century to mark canonical hours, hence it has only one hand. And, finally the Door of the Lions at the South transept, combining gothic and baroque sculptures, all of the highest quality.
Up to this point, orthodox gothic design is followed. However, Toledo Cathedral has more entrances, two that lead to the cloister, that of “the Presentation” and that of “Santa Catalina” and the last, unique because of its location in the South wall, the neo-classical “Flat Door”, the only one that does not have steps. This modest "service entrance" that gave access to stonemasons and sculptures for the temple for centuries, became a noble porch for the passing of the famous Monstrance, when the Corpus Christi procession makes its majestic departure. It is currently the entrance door for visitors. The cloister can be entered through the Mollete Door and there are another five auxiliary doors in the walls of the structures added to the temple.
The wide range of sculptures in every part have doctrinal and didactic roles, as well as artistic ones. The exterior choir shows many scenes from the Old Testament and the Large Dome from the New Testament.
The collection of paintings is also important, above all the excellent collection kept in the Sacristy that contains Christ Stripped of his Garments and the Apostolate by Greco, paintings by Caravaggio, Titian, Van Dyck, Goya, Morales, Rubens, Bassano and many more. Juan de Borgoña and Lucas Giordano should also be mentioned separately, since their most outstanding paintings are the frescoes that decorate the walls of the Chapter House and the ceiling of the Sacristy respectively.
Another type of art that is very noticeable is the gold and silver work. The cathedral’s treasure is exhibited in the chapel below the tower, including the imposing Monstrance by Enrique de Arfe, composed of numerous pieces fitted together in a gothic filigree style of gold-plated silver. This is the precious case for the real Monstrance of the Sacred Way, being made of solid gold, belonging to the Catholic Monarchs. Once a year it is paraded through the streets of the city for the exaltation of faith during the secular procession of Corpus Christi.
The “San Juan de los Reyes” Monastery The church was built to hold the “dynastic mausoleum” of queen Isabel the Catholic, dedicated to saint John the Evangelist, of whom the queen was a devout admirer. The use of the building dictated its type of simulated bier, surrounded by pinnacles in the form of wax candles.
The sanctuary and transept of the church were planned and erected by Juan Guas, the first person to hold the post of Royal Architect. The Franciscan cord runs along the entire facade, it being the order that occupies the building. The sanctuary is polygonal with buttresses crowned with needles or pinnacles, decorated with royal arms and life-sized heralds, showing the Catholic Monarchs shield shining among their clothing. The cimborio above the transept is octagonal, crowned by cresting and decorated with more gothic pinnacles. Above the side door there is an outstanding Stations of the Cross, showing the Virgin and Saint John, but not Christ. He is symbolised by the pelican placed on the cross, in accordance with the medieval belief that the bird was able to feed its young with its own blood, this being a type of precursor of the Eucharist.
The church has a hall floor with a spacious transept to hold future burial tombs. The sanctuary is polygonal making a tapestry of sculpture of Mudejar style. It is covered with a vault of eight-pointed stars and is supported by tubes. In the transept in the nave, the epigraphic decoration can also be seen, also from the Mudejar tradition, these signs alluding to the conquest of Granada. The entrance was planned for the end of the base of the church and the high choir, leading from the nave to the main altar, following the growth in illumination in the spaces. The repeated royal coats of arms in the main chapel were created before 1492, since the pomegranate fruit does not appear, which was a symbol of the then conquered kingdom. All of the decoration is repetitive and intended to underline the magnificence of the monarchs. Isabel is symbolised by sheaves of arrows that represent the union of forces and by the letter “Y” of her name, in the spelling of the time.
Fernando is symbolised by the letter “F” and by a yoke with the motto "tanto monta" (it is all the same), which alludes to the myth of the Gordian knot, cut by Alexander the Great when faced with the impossibility of untying it. It is a justification for the means used to obtain the desired ends. Here it indicates the primacy of the reason of the State above other considerations, as considered by Machiavelli. It is no accident that the symbols of each of the consorts begin with the initial of the name of the other.
Another key space is the square, two-tiered cloister, one of the masterpieces of late gothic art within the Hispanic-Flemish aesthetic, which combines gothic and Mudejar elements, something very typical of Juan Guas. The length of its sides with five spans is exactly half that of the nave of the church. The lower cloister is covered with a German style ribbed vault, without which the ribs would join in the centre, therefore without a key.
The upper cloister shows a wooden coffered ceiling with typical Mudejar tracery. The columns, arches, and pilasters are covered in animal and vegetable motifs, many of them also holding a symbolic meaning. Among them are human figures, separate or together in scenes, such as a boy stabbing an eagle, a monkey horseman riding a dog playing the flute, another sitting on a toilet, and many more, typical of the range of gothic taste. However, some may come from the Restoration in the XIX Century. Throughout the cloister there are sculptures of biblical figures on pedestals and under canopies. The steps that lead to the upper cloister show Renaissance motifs, a half orange vault, masks, pilgrims’ badges, caissons, and examples of the work of Alonso de Covarrubias.
The chains hanging on the exterior walls of the church are especially noteworthy. They refer to the prisoners freed during the long Granada campaign and were hung in 1494, as a votive offering and a symbol of the triumph of Christian faith. They complete the planned decoration of the building well.
In the end, the monarchs changed their opinion after the conquest of Granada and their final resting place is in the new cathedral of that city.
The convent was practically destroyed during the War of Independence and was only rebuilt in part, the second cloister disappearing, in accordance with the historical criteria of the XIX Century, leaving no distinction between the old and the restored, the gargoyles of the cloister being the best example of this.
Saint Marie of the Incarnation, O.S.U.
Missionary, Foundress of the Ursuline Order in Canada
Born Marie Guyart
28 October 1599 — Tours, Touraine, Kingdom of France
Died 30 April 1672
Québec City, Canada, New France
Beatified 22 June 1980, Vatican City, by Pope John Paul II
Canonized 2 April 2014 by Pope Francis
Feast 30 April
Marie of the Incarnation, O.S.U. (28 October 1599 – 30 April 1672) was an Ursuline nun of the French order. As part of a group of nuns sent to New France to establish the Ursuline Order, Marie was crucial in the spread of Catholicism in New France. Moreover, she has been credited with founding the first girls’ school in the New World. Due to her work, the Catholic Church declared her a saint, and the Anglican Church of Canada celebrates her with a feast day.
Early life
Marie of the Incarnation was born Marie Guyart in Tours, France. Her father was a silk merchant. She was the fourth of Florent Guyart and Jeanne Michelet’s eight children and from an early age she was drawn to religious liturgy and the sacraments. When Marie was seven years old, she experienced her first mystical encounter with Jesus Christ. In her book Relation of 1654, she recounted: “With my eyes toward heaven, I saw our Lord Jesus Christ in human form come forth and move through the air to me. As Jesus in his wondrous majesty was approaching me, I felt my heart enveloped by his love and I began to extend my arms to embrace him. Then he put his arms about me, kissed me lovingly, and said, ‘Do you wish to belong to me?’ I answered, ‘Yes!’ And having received my consent, he ascended back into Heaven.” From that point onward, Marie felt “inclined towards goodness.”
Intent on belonging to Christ, Marie, aged fourteen, proposed to her parents that she enter religious life with the Benedictines of Beaumont Abbey but her parents disregarded her desire. Instead, she was married to Claude Martin, a master silk worker in 1617. By her own account, she enjoyed a happy - although brief - marriage and within two years she had a son, also named Claude. Her husband died only months after the birth of their son, leaving Marie a widow at the age of nineteen.
With her husband’s death, Marie inherited his failing business which she then lost. Forced to move into her parent’s home, Marie secluded herself to pursue a deepening of her commitment to spiritual growth. After a year with her parents, Guyart was invited to move in with her sister and brother-in-law, Paul Buisson, who owned a successful transportation business. She accepted, and helped in managing their house and kitchen.
Though nothing could distract Marie from the pursuit of a spiritual life. “I was constantly occupied by my intense concentration on God,” she wrote in Relation of 1633. Over time, her inclination toward religious life only grew and eventually led her to enter the Ursuline convent on 25 January 1631.
Religious beginnings
Free to pursue her religious inclinations after her husband’s death, Marie took a vow of chastity, obedience and poverty. On 24 March 1620, she received a religious vision that set her on a new path of devotional intensity.
In 1627 Marie read Vida, the autobiography of the Spanish mystic Teresa of Ávila. Marie found many spiritual connections with Teresa, and was heavily influenced by her work. After reading Vida, Marie long aspired to the same goal of her Spanish role model of travelling to the New World and becoming a martyr there. Fueled by Jesuit propaganda and her own visions, Marie became more and more encouraged to travel to New France. So much so, she experienced a vision that would inspire her voyage to the New World and in Relation of 1654 she wrote, “I saw at some distance to my left a little church of white marble...the Blessed Virgin was seated. She was holding the Child Jesus on her lap. This place was elevated, and below it lay a majestic and vast country, full of mountains, of valleys, of thick mists which permeated everything except the church...The Blessed Virgin, Mother of God, looked down on this country, as pitiable as it was amazing...it seamed to me that she spoke about this country and about myself and that she had in mind some plan which involved me.” With the assistance of her spiritual director, Marie identified the country to be Canada and further incentivized her departure to New France. Despite never achieving martyrdom, Marie would spend many years in the New World aspiring towards it, working diligently in the meantime. After her death, the two names would often be connected, and Marie would occasionally be referred to as the Teresa of Canada.
In 1631, after working with a spiritual director for many years, Guyart decided to enter the Ursuline monastery in Tours to try her religious vocation, at which time she received the religious name by which she is now known. Joining the monastery required her to leave her young son, and he expressed much difficulty with the separation. Claude tried to storm the monastery with a band of school friends, and could repeatedly be found crying at the gates, trying to enter. She left him in the care of the Buisson family, but the emotional pain of the separation would remain with them both. Later, when her son had become a Benedictine monk, they corresponded candidly about their spiritual and emotional trials.
New France
Pre-departure
Prior to her departure, Marie de l’Incarnation had been leading a cloistered life as a member of the Ursuline Order. After having professed her vows in 1633, she changed her name to Marie de l’Incarnation; that Christmas, she was confronted with a powerful vision, which functioned as the catalyst for her mission to New France. In this mystical dream, Marie saw herself walking hand in hand with a fellow laywoman against the backdrop of a foreign landscape, on the roof of a small church in this distant, foggy landscape sat the Virgin Mary and Jesus; she interpreted this as the mother and son discussing her religious calling to the new land. She recounted the vision to her priest at the Order, who informed her that the nation she described was Canada, and suggested that she read The Jesuit Relations; from this Marie concluded that her vocation was to help establish the Catholic Faith in the New World.
Personal and financial obstacles delayed her departure by four years. Over this time, she maintained a continuous correspondence with Jesuits in Quebec who were supportive of a female religious presence, which might facilitate the Christianization of Huron women; Marie’s Mother Superior in Tours, and her pre-Ursuline religious director Dom Raymond de Saint Bernard were largely unsupportive, the latter suggesting that it was too lofty for a lowly laywoman. Marie was met with similar resistance from her family. Her brother, Claude Guyart attempted to persuade her into abandoning her mission by accusing her of parental neglect, and by revoking an inheritance designated for her son; these measures did not deter her.
Marie’s initial financial concerns for the funding of the journey, and the establishment of a convent in New France were resolved when she was introduced to Madeleine de la Peltrie on 19 February 1639. Marie recognized that this religiously devoted widow, the daughter of a fiscal officer, was the laywoman from her vision four years earlier. De la Peltrie’s contribution to the endeavour was met with strong opposition from her aristocratic family; to garner their support, de la Peltrie arranged a sham marriage with Christian Jean de Brenière. Madeleine’s new marital status gave her the legal authority to sign over the bulk of her estate to the Ursuline Order, thereby fully funding the mission. Following this, the Ursuline went to Paris, and signed legal contracts with the Company of One Hundred Associates, and the Jesuit Fathers, who were responsible for the colony’s political and spiritual life, respectively. The official royal charter sanctioning the establishment of the foundation was signed by Louis XII shortly thereafter.
On 4 May 1639, Marie de l’Incarnation and Madeleine de la Peltrie, set sail from Dieppe for Quebec on board the Saint Joseph. They were accompanied by a fellow aristocratic Ursuline Marie de Sanonières, the young commoner Charlotte Barré, three nurses, and two Jesuit Fathers.
Arrival
In August 1639 the group landed in Quebec City and established a convent in the lower town. When they began their first work at the foot of the mountain, Quebec was but a name. Hardly six houses stood on the site chosen by Champlain thirty-one years previously. She and her companions at first occupied a little house in the lower town (Basse-Ville). In 1642 the Ursulines moved to a permanent stone building in the upper town. The group managed to found the first school in what would become Canada, as well as the Ursuline Monastery of Quebec, which has been designated one of the National Historic Sites of Canada.
Early interactions with the native populations
Marie de l’Incarnation’s early interactions with Native populations were largely shaped by the constraints created by differing lifestyles, illnesses, and alliances. Indigenous divisions of manual and domestic labour by gender and age diverged significantly from European conceptions of masculine and feminine spheres of work. This made it difficult for Marie and the other Ursulines to educate young girls with methods developed in Europe.
With European colonization came an influx of illnesses. Smallpox outbreaks from the 1630s to the 1650s ravaged Native populations, leading them to believe that Jesuits and Ursulines were imparting disease through their religious practices, and paraphernalia. Fears that baptisms, holy icons and crosses were the source of all epidemics greatly limited the groups’ interactions, and strained Marie’s relationship with Natives in her first decades in New France.
The most volatile relationship Marie and the Ursulines faced revolved around the conflict pitting the French, Huron and other indigenous allies against the Iroquois. Iroquois hostility towards the Jesuit-allied Hurons shaped Marie’s negative view of the Five Nations. Iroquois military victories in the 1650s, and their dominance by the start of the next decade, brought Marie and the Ursulines close to despair. Their distress was heightened by a fire that destroyed their convent in 1650;[15] simultaneous political troubles in France caused European Ursulines to pressure their Canadian sisters to return home, adding to Marie and the Ursulines’ stresses, and fears. Such feelings of helplessness were quelled, however, when the convent was reconstructed with seemingly miraculous speed; a blessing attributed to the Virgin Mary.
Universalizing Impulses
A strong, universalizing impulse underscored Marie de l’Incarnation’s interactions, and activities in New France. Her perceptions of similarities between European Christians, and the potential converts in the New World were the upshots of a cloistered convent life, and largely non-existent experiences with other cultures;[18] such seclusion allowed for an over-simplification of her ambition to spread God’s word transnationally. According to Natalie Zemon Davis, the integrative approach towards Native interactions that developed from this mindset was dissimilar to the Jesuit’s methods of establishing relationships in New France. Jesuits, adopted Native roles in the presence of First Nations peoples, but were quick to shed these association when outside the confines of their settlements; this double life made any fully integrative experience, or universal mindset impossible.
Marie noticed that Native girls were in possession of commendable traits such as submissiveness, and conscientiousness, which would facilitate their adoption of Christian practices, and their commitment to a Christian marriage; the two pillars of a thorough, universalizing conversion.
Education
In the 17th century, a key pillar of education was religious education. Marie followed a strict orthodox teaching method she learnt during her time with the Ursulines in Tours. The system was based on basics of faith, French and Latin literature and civility. The basics of faith included catechism, prayers and hymns. The main objective of the Ursuline school was to educate young French girls and Natives to become good Christians. The young French girls paid one hundred and twenty livres to cover both their education and pension fees. At the time, the young Native girls did not have to pay for their education. The Ursuline’s encouraged the young Montagnais, Hurons and Algonquins to use the seminary as a resource. These girls were taught French mannerisms and were taught how to dress based on French culture. After their education, the young aboriginal students were encouraged to go back to their homes and share their teachings. By educating young girls from different tribes, francization was transmitted from daughter to mother. In her writings, Marie emphasized the fact that the Aboriginal students were treated the same way as the French students at the school. They allowed the girls to sing hymns in both French and their native languages. Many of the nuns created mother-like bonds with the First Nation students. However, there were some problems with the education system during the 17th century. Some students did not stay at the school long enough to receive a complete education. The Ursuline nuns did not have the authority to keep them if the girls want to leave. Another problem was limited economic resources. The school could only accept a limited number of students because of a lack of funds.
Death
Marie died of a liver illness on 30 April 1672. In the necrology report sent to the Ursulines of France, it was written: “The numerous and specific virtues and excellent qualities which shone through this dear deceased, make us firmly believe that she enjoys a high status in God’s glory.”
Works
In addition to her religious duties, Marie composed multiple works that reflected her experiences and observations during her time in the New World and the spiritual calling that led her there.
In relation to her work with the indigenous population, Marie learned Montagnais, Algonquin, Huron, and Iroquois, writing dictionaries and catechisms in each (none of which have survived to today), as well as in her native French. Marie also wrote two autobiographies, though her second Relation was destroyed in a fire at the convent while still in manuscript.
Her most significant writings, however, were the 8,000-20,000 letters she wrote to various acquaintances, the majority of which went to her son Claude. Despite being personal correspondence, some of her letters were circulated throughout France and appeared in The Jesuit Relation in love while she was still alive. Many of the remainder were then published by her son after her death. These letters constitute one of the sources for the history of the French colony from 1639 to 1671. Her collection of works discuss political, commercial, religious and interpersonal aspects of the colony and are helpful in the reconstruction and understanding of New France in the seventeenth century.
Canonization
Marie was declared venerable in 1874. She was then beatified by Pope John Paul II on 22 June 1980. She was canonized by Pope Francis on 2 April 2014. The Pontiff waived the requirement of two miracles for Marie and she was granted “equivalent canonization” alongside François de Laval, the first Bishop of Quebec.
Legacy
Marie of the Incarnation is a celebrated founder of the Ursuline Order in colonial New France. Her work with the Amerindians has been recognized by the Anglican Church of Canada and they celebrate her life with a feast day on 30 April. A number of Catholic schools have been named after her. At Laval University, in Québec City, there is the Centre d’Études Marie de l’Incarnation, that is a multi-disciplinary program pertaining to theology and religious practice.
Marie is recognized for her contribution to Canada with a statue that sits in front of the Québec parliament. The sculpture was designed by Joseph-Émile Brunet in 1965 and is located at the Basilica of SainteAnne de Beaupré.
One of the most remote churches in the county, there is just a single building to be seen from the churchyard, which overlooks a verdant valley and rich woodland.
I have been to Crundale so many times, as there is an orchid-rich woodland along the bridleway beside the church, that it came as a surprise to see I had been inside just the once and took a few wide angle shots.
So, we returned on the last day of February, on leap day.
We surprised a churchwarden inside who was doing some tidying, and as he was leaving said he would turn the lights out, so I grabbed on shots down the nave with the light burning.
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Nave, chancel, north aisle and tower stand in a superb downland setting far from any village. The church is of Norman origin, as can be seen from the surviving window in the north wall of the nave. The semi-circular arches of the two-bay arcade are also late Norman. In the eighteenth century the fine reredos with a scrolly pediment and the altar rails were installed. Also in the chancel is a nice single sedile under a carved canopy. The stonework of the east window is entirely a nineteenth-century creation. The rood loft stairway survives. The narrow north aisle contains a handsome tomb chest to John Sprot (d. 1466), formed by an incised design on an alabaster slab removed here from the chancel. Sprot wears vestments and holds a chalice with the host displayed. His head rests on a pillow decorated with two little Bottonee crosses. It is a pity that it was not always mounted on a tomb chest as parts of the design have been worn away by the feet of centuries.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Crundale
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CRUNDAL.
LIES the next parish north-eastward from Wye. It appears by the register of Leeds abbey, that this parish was likewise once called Dromwæd, which name I conjecture to be the same now called Tremworth; in which register it is said, that Dromewida and Crundale is one and the same parish; Dromewida & Crundale sunt una & eadem villa; and in another place mention is made de Ecclesia de Dromwæd.
It is but a small parish, containing within it not more than twenty-four houses; it is an out of the way situation, having little or no traffic through it. The hills are very frequent in it, and exceedingly barren; the soil is in general chalk, covered with quantities of flints. The country here is very healthy; it is exceeding cold, and has a wild and dreary appearance, great part of it consists of open downs, most of which are uncultivated, those on the eastern side lying on the high ridge of hills adjoining to Wye downs. In the middle of the parish there is some coppice wood, and still more at the north-east boundaries of it.
There are two small streets or hamlets, one in the valley, called Danord, corruptly for Danewood-street; the other eastward from it, on the hills called Solestreet, which is the principal one, where there is a fair for toys and pedlary held yearly on Whit Monday. Close at the end of the former, in the valley, stands the parsonage, a genteel habitable dwelling, and on the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from it the church. About a mile westward, over the hill, is Little Ollantigh, belonging to Samuel-Elias Sawbridge, esq. situated on the downs, this is but a modern name, given to it when the late Mr. Jacob Sawbridge, by his brother's permission, resided at it. It lies among Mr. Sawbridge's park grounds, the land within the inclosure of it being made into gardens for the seat of Ollantigh, and the house for the habitation of the gardeners, and others. Beyond this the downs reach still further westwards, the whole of them being usually called Tremworth downs, from the manor of that name, the house of which is situated on the western bounds of this parish, in the bottom, almost close to the river Stour. The old mansion has been moated round, and many fragments of the arms of Kempe are still remaining both in the windows and carvework of the wainscot and timbers of the house. It had formerly a domestic chapel belonging to it, some of the walls of which are still standing.
¶ON TREMWORTH DOWN, near the summit of the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from Crundal, there is a hollow road, on each side of which there have been found many remains of a Roman Jepulture; the first discovery of which was made in the year 1703, in the waggon road, where, by the descent of the hill, it was worn hollow, and another was again made in 1713, by the then earl of Winchelsea, assisted by the Rev. Mr. Forster, rector of this parish, who were so successful as to meet with several skeletons, bones, skulls, &c. of persons full grown, as well as children, and many urns, pans, and bottles of lead, coloured and fine red earths in graves, the sides and ends of which were firm close chalk in its natural undisturbed state, the earth near the skeletons being stained with blueish spots of mould, occasioned no doubt by the corruption of the bodies.
But before this there had been taken up about the year 1678, a much larger urn than any found afterwards, in digging for land on the range of the hill eastward from Crundal, though in the parish of Godmersham. This was so large, that it might well have been thought one of those family urns, such as Morton describes in his History of Northamptonshire, from Meric Casaubon's notes on Antoninus, being big enough to hold half a bushel; but there was neither ashes nor bones in it, nor any thing else, but a shallow earthen pan, resembling that marked (3) below, with another little urn or pot standing in the midst of it, of fine red earth, and having some letters on it. It was covered with a flat, broad stone, and fenced round with a wall of flint, to defend it from external injuries. A plate is here given of several of the urns and vessels found as above-mentioned. (fn. 1)
The late Rev. Brian Faussett, of Heppington, in 1757 and 1759, dug very successfully at this place; and in the several graves which he opened, found numbers of urns, offuaries, pateræ, and lacrymatories, both of Roman earthen ware and of glass, of different sizes and colours, as red, lead-colour, dark-brown, and white, with the names of the different manufacturers on many of them. He found likewise several female trinkets, and a coin of the younger Faustina, wife of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, who died in 177 after Christ; and what was very singular, the skeletons, of which he found several, all lay with their feet to the south-west. From the circumstance of finding in some graves, urns with burnt ashes and bones in them, and in others skeletons, it appears that this had been a common burial-place for some length of time; and the finding of the above mentioned coin proves it, without doubt, to have been Roman. Mr. Faussett though it to have been the place of sepulture for some few families, or at most for only two or three of the neighbouring villages. In one place near the graves, from the quantity of black mould in one particular place, different from the rest of the soil near it, he imagined that spot might have been made use of as their ustrina, that is, where the funeral pile was placed to burn the bodies of the dead. All the above remains of Roman antiquity discovered by him are now in the valuable collection of his son Henry Godfrey Faussett, esq. of Heppington.
¶THE ROYAL MANOR OF WYE claims paramount over this parish, subordinate to which are THE MANORS OF CRUNDAL AND HADLOE, which, with the rest of this parish, were parcel of the honor of Clare, belonging to the noble family of Clare, earls of Gloucester, of whom they were held by the family of Handlou, afterwards written Hadloe, whose seat here was called by their name. John de Handlou possessed these manors in the reign of king Henry III. and died anno 11 Edward I. (fn. 2) possessed of large estates in this and the counties of Oxford, Buckingham, and Gloucester. His son, of the same name, in the 1st year of king Edward II. had a charter of free-warren in all his demesne lands at Crondale, Tremeworth, Vanne, and Ashenedene. He died in the 20th year of king Ed ward III. leaving Edmund his grandson his heir, who possessed his estates here; but he died s. p. in the 32d year of it, and his two sisters, Margaret, then married to John de Apulby, and Elizabeth to John de la Pole, became his heirs to all his estates here, and elsewhere, they sold these manors soon afterwards to Waretius de Valoins, who was before possessed of Tremworth, and other large estates in these parts. He died without male issue, and his two daughters became his coheirs, one of whom married Sir Francis Fogge, grandson of Otho, who came out of Lancashire into Kent, and the other, Thomas de Aldon, who, on the division of their estates, became possessed of these manors of Crundal and Hadloe; and in his descendants they continued till they were at length, by a female heir, carried in marriage to Heron, of Lincolnshire, who, in order to purchase other estates nearer to him in that county, passed away these manors, with the rest of her inheritance in this parish, to Sir Thomas Kempe, of Ollantigh, whose descendant Sir Thomas Kempe dying in 1607, without male issue, his four daughters became his coheirs, one of whom, Mary, married Sir Dudley Diggs, and on the partition of their inheritance, he became in her right entitled to them, and soon afterwards alienated them to Jeremy Gay, of London; from which name they some years afterwards were alienated to John Whitfield, gent. of Canterbury, whose second son Robert Whitfield, of Chartham, about the beginning of king George II.'s reign, passed them away by sale to Humphry Pudner, esq. of Canterbury, whose daughter, and at length sole heir Catherine, carried them in marriage to Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, in Ickham, who died possessed of these manors in 1757, leaving Catherine his wife surviving, who then became entitled to them. She died in 1785, upon which they came, by deed of settlement as well as by her will, to her only son and heir Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, who within a few months afterwards exchanged them, for Garwinton, in Littleborne, with Thomas Knight, esq. of Godmersham, whose son of the same name dying in 1794, s. p. gave them, together with the estate of Little Winchcombe, in this parish likewise, by will, to Edward Austen, esq. of Rowling-place, now of Godmersham, the eldest son of the Rev. George Austen, rector of Steventon, in Hampshire, who continues the present proprietor of them. A court baron is held for these manors.
Crundale-house is situated at a small distance southeastward from Danord-street. The scite of Hadloe manor is at a small distance still further southward. The house of which has been down time out of mind; but there was a baron on it, called Hadloe-barn, remaining till within these few years, which has been lately likewise pulled down.
Charities.
SIR THOMAS KEMPE, by deed in 1503, gave all the trees near or about the church-yard, as a succour and defence to the church. They stand in a piece of ground on the west side of it, which now belongs to the owner of Ollantigh.
THERE has been, time out of mind, two quit-rents paid, each of three-halfpence a years, one out of two acres of land, the other out of a tenement, both at Hessole-street, in the possession of Mr. Ayling; and another quit-rent, of 6d. per annum, out of two acres lying at Little Crundal, now in the possession of Mr. Laming. All three are constantly applied by the churchwardens to the repair of the church.
RICHARD FORSTER, rector of this parish, by will in 1728, gave a parochial library; also two acres of land, lying on the north side of Denwood-street, and a yearly rent charge of 40s. out of a tenement called Little Ripple, in this parish, and the land belonging to it in Crundal and Godmersham, and another yearly rent of 4l. out of a house and lands belonging to it, adjoining to the above street, in this parish, for the use of his successors, rectors of Crundal, for ever.
N. B. This last rent charge of 4l. per annum has been sold, by the consent of the ordinary, patron, and incumbent, and the money laid out in the purchasing of about six acres of land, lying adjoining to Denwood-street, as an augmentation of the glebe.
MR. FORSTER likewise gave a house and an acre of land, lying at Filchborow, in Crundal, and a field, called Harman Hewett, or the Barn-field, containing six acres, lying in Godmersham, to be applied by the minister of the parish and officers, to the teaching of poor children to read and say the Church Catechism, or else to the relief of poor widows and labourers, belonging to and being in this parish; so that yearly on Easter Tuesday 20s. be distributed among such persons.
THOMASINE PHILIPOT, Widow, by will in 1711, left a yearly pension of 10s. out of her house and lands at Sole-street, in Crundal, to the poor of this parish for ever, to be distributed among them by the churchwardens on Christmas-day.
JOHN FINCH, gent. of Limne, by will in 1705, gave 40s. without any deduction, upon Christmas-day for ever, payable out of his lands in Crundal and Godmersham, by the church wardens and overseers of Godmersham, to two of the eldest, poorest, and most industrious labouring men in the parish of Crundal, and who never received relief of this or any other parish, that is, 20s. to each of them yearly on Christmas-day for ever.
Crundal is within the ECCLISIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the discese of Canterbury, and deanry of Bridge.
The church, which stands on high grounds, is dedicated to St. Mary. It consists of one isle and one chancel, with a tower Steeple on the north side, having a small pointed low turret on the top. There are three bells in it. In the church-porch is a coffin-shaped stone, with a cross story on it, and round the edge there have been large French capital letters, of which three or four only remain. At the west end of the isle is a vauk, in which life Jacob Sawbridge, esq. and Anne his wife, who once resided at Little Ollantigh, in this parish, with two of their children, who died insants. In the chancel is a large white stone, with the figure and inscription on it, for John Sprot, once rector here; and there was in this church, a memorial for Judith Cerclere Mission, who fied from France on account of her religion, and, after many perils and dangers, arrived at London in 1685, obt. 1692. The altar piece was given by Sir Robert Filmer, bart. in 1704. In the church-yard, on the south side, is a tomb for the worthy and beneficent Richard Forster, rector here, and near it a handsome white marble one, for Mrs. Juliana Harvey and her husband William Harvey, M.D.
The rectory of Crundal was given by the family of Valoyns, in the reign of king Henry II. by the name of the church of Dromwide, to the prior and convent of Leeds, in perpetual alms; (fn. 4) but this never took effect, nor did they ever gain the possession of it, the heirs of the donor of it refusing to ratify this gift, so that there were continual controversies on that account. At length it was agreed, at the instance of archbishop Hubert, that Hamo de Valoyns should grant a rent of 25s. from his church of Dromwæd to the prior and canons for ever; saving to him and his heirs, the presentation to the church, so that the canons should not claim any further right to themselves, nor present to the parsonage in it, nor do any other act to bring his grant into doubt. All which the archbishop confirmed under his seal, by inspeximus. Notwithstanding this, the payment of the above pension seems to have been contested by the rectors of this church; but, on appeal to the pope in king Henry the IIId.'s reign, it was given in favour of the canons, to be paid yearly to them by the rectors of this church, nomine beneficii; and all these confirmations of the several archbishops were again confirmed by the prior and convent of Canterbury in 1278. After which this church remained in the patronage of the lords of Tremworth manor, with which it continued in like manner as has been already mentioned, till it came into the possession of the late Sir John Filmer, bart. who by will in 1796 devised it with that manor to his brother Sir Beversham Filmer, bart. the present proprietor of it. The above-mentioned pension of 25s. on the suppression of the priory of Leeds, came into the king's hands, who settled it on his new founded dean and chapter of Rochester, to whom it now continues to be paid.
This rectory is valued in the king's books at 11l. 10s. and the yearly tenths at 1l. 3s. 1d.
In 1588 it was valued at eighty pounds. Communicant one hundred and ninety-one. In 1640 it was valued at only sixty pounds. Communicants one hundred. In 1615 the rector and churchwardens testified, that there was one parcel of glebe, containing eight acres, adjoining to the close where the parsonage-house stood; and there is now six acres more of glebe lying near Denwood-street, purchased by the rector and church wardens, as has been mentioned before, in the list of charitable benefactions.
THERE IS a portion of corn tithes in this parish, arising from different fields and parts of others, containing in the whole about one hundred acres, called Towne-barn tithery, which was for many years in the family of Finch, earls of Winchelsea, and from them came to George Finch Hatton, esq. of Eastwell, the present owner of it.
¶There was a portion of tithes, called belonging to the tithes of Fannes, in this parish and Wye, belonging to the priory of Stratford Bow, which on the suppression in the reign of king Henry VIII. was granted to Sir Ralph Sadler, to hold in capite. This seems to have been the portion of tithes above-mentioned, rather than for it to have been belonging to Wye college, as has been generally supposed.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
As you can imagine, in that I am still posting shots from June, I have got a little behind with my postings. So, for the past two days I have been posting soe un-edited shots from a could of churches we visited whilst in Northumberland, and later I will post shots of the church in Alnwick which we also visited and I snapped.
In addition to these, i have shots of four Kentish churches from May to edit and post, as well as some shots from Bejing airport when I left China.
At least there are no more orchid shots for a while, eh?
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This is an ancient place of worship – the Gospel has been preached here for probably 1,200 years. The Anglo-Saxons had a royal burgh here and the existence of the Anglian cross would indicate that there was a church here in those days.
It is surprising that any relics of old churches are found in the Coquet Valley. There were two periods of destruction of churches in England – the Reformation and Cromwell’s Commonwealth. In addition to that, in this area there were Viking and Norman invasions, followed for many years by the incursions of the Scots. The Coquet valley, serene as it may seem today, was one of the most violent parts of England.
The monastic church at Rothbury must have been destroyed either by the Vikings or even the Normans; however the eastern part seems to have survived to become the foundation of a new building at some time in the thirteenth century, part of which can still be seen in the chancel, the chancel arch and the east walls of the transepts.
In the eighteenth century the church had galleries, dormer windows and a three-decker pulpit but these all disappeared in the restoration of 1850, undertaken by the Rector, Canon C. Vernon Harcourt. With a few additions and alterations this is the church we see today. This was a busy period of church building in the valley. Within two years, the churches at Rothbury, Alwinton and Holystone were either rebuilt, modified or restored.
Most of the stained glass in the Church is Victorian, the exceptions being two windows on the north wall in memory of local head teachers and those in the Memorial Chapel in the south transept.
In the Baptistry (1) is the greatest treasure of the church; the pedestal of the font. This is part of the shaft of the Anglo-Saxon cross, dated around 800AD. More remnants of this cross were discovered during the 1850 restoration; they are now in the Museum of Antiquities, Newcastle. On the north side is what is said to be the earliest carving of the Ascension in this country. The Disciples can be seen gazing up to the ascending Christ. The south side is a panel of intricate knotwork, the west side has a carving of beasts preying on one another and on the east side an animal (a lion) can be seen walking between double branches bearing fruit in clusters of three.
The bowl of the font dates from 1664 replacing one damaged during the unrest of the Civil War and the Commonwealth. The font cover is twentieth-century, given in memory of Lady Armstrong. Lord Armstrong’s funeral hatchment hangs on the south wall (2).
In the corner stands a small bell which hung in the tower above until 1893 when the present peal of eight bells was given to the church. It is inscribed ‘John Thomlinson, Rector of Rothbury 1682’. It was a product of the well known Whitechapel Foundry.
On the east side of the Baptistry screen are the boards bearing the names of the Rectors of Rothbury from Lucas in 1287, to the last Rector of the parish of Rothbury. In the new parish of Upper Coquetdale, the incumbent also carries the title of Rector.
The Bells
There is a peal of eight bells in the tower with the tenor bell weighing 13cwt 3qr 15lb. They were presented to the church in 1893 in memory of William Dawson by his sister, Mary.
The Nave
The nave was totally restored in 1850 – of necessity it would seem. However, the nave arch has origins as far back as the thirteenth century.
The pews are numbered, possibly from the era when individuals or families had their own private pew. Either for a standard fee, or in some cases by auction, a pew could be acquired for personal occupation. This custom died mostly during the late Victorian period. The numbering system was sometimes retained after this time as a means of keeping maintenance records.
The pulpit (3) is a fine piece of Victorian carving, given in 1901 in memory of Lady Armstrong depicting Bernard Gilpin, the 16th century “Apostle of the North” along with Saints Columba, Paulinus, Hilda and Aidan. The brass eagle lectern is of the same period.
The screen (4), another piece of beautiful wood carving, was installed in 1901 in memory of Lord Armstrong. On the mouldings of the beam is a series of eighteen shields blazoned with the arms of landowners, benefactors, patrons, and communities connected with Rothbury Church and parish from the 12th century down to the time of installation.
The inner porch on the south door (5) was erected in 1929 in memory of Dr Thomas Sharpe, Rector 1720 – 1758; another great benefactor of the Parish. One legacy of Dr. Sharpe is “Sharpe’s Folly” half a mile away at Whitton. It is a 30ft high tower, reported to be built to provide local masons with employment, but also to be used as an observatory.
The Chancel
There are two thirteenth century arches in the north wall of the chancel, separating the chancel from the vestries (6). The building containing the vestries stands on the site of the old Cartington chantry, and was built in 1886. The chantry which belonged to the Cartington estate was endowed for the maintenance of a priest to celebrate masses for the benefit of the souls of the founder and his family. After the Reformation, when prayers for the dead were forbidden, the chantry appears to have fallen into decay over the next hundred years. The arches were sealed to keep out inclement weather (and vandals), and remained that way for another two hundred years before the modifications in 1886.
In 1658 it was, ordered that “no grave be dig’d in ye bodye of the Church under the price of 5/-. Because it not being flag’ d would not only spoile the seats and floor, but endanger ye people’s health by infectious aire” – consequently the chancel had a marble pavement laid about 1710 (this was later covered) and the Nave was flagged for the first time in 1730.
The oak choir stalls are dedicated to the memory of Edward Mallet Young, Rector of Rothbury, 1894-1900.
The oak screen that divides the chancel from the priest’s vestry (6) is decorated with tracery work, and in its twelve panels there are the family coats of arms of twelve of the rectors of Rothbury.
The organ screen is a memorial to those who fell in the First World War. This screen is surmounted by organ pipes which are purely decorative. Looking between these pipes, the highly decorated genuine functional pipes may be seen.
Around 1840, the music in the services was provided by a string band, clarinets and violins, which were succeeded by a barrel organ. The present organ was given by Lord Armstrong and the rector, Rev. C.G.V. Harcourt in 1866. It was built by Hill and Sons of London in 1866, a company that operated in London from 1862 to 1917 before becoming Hill, Norman and Beard. When installed, it was sited at the west end of the church. Its precise location is not known but it may be assumed from the design of the instrument that the organist would sit with his back to the congregation. Playing while trying to control the choir at the east end of the church at the same time must have been extremely difficult, and it is probable that the choir sat at the west end of the church at that time.
The organ was later moved to its present position (7), certainly earlier than 1901, and would presumably be following or at the time of building the new vestry in 1887.
It is a two manual instrument with eleven speaking stops, and has never been modified in design – it still has a flat pedal board and the swell pedal is unbalanced, being able to be notched in position as the organist wishes.
An electric blower was installed many years ago, but the handle for hand blowing the bellows is still in place should it ever be needed.
The Sanctuary
On the east wall behind the altar is a finely made reredos (8) of Corsham Down stone, alabaster, and marble, consisting of five trefoil-headed arches.
The paneling in the sanctuary was installed in the early twentieth century. On the north side is the Thomlinson Memorial. (9) Dr John Thomlinson was Rector of Rothbury from 1679 to 1720. He was one of the greatest benefactor of the Parish; among many other things he founded a school where there were two masters “to teach gratis all such children within the Parish to read and understand the English, Latin and Greek tongues and to write, cast accounts and the Church catechism”.
The heraldic devices on the paneling belong to former Rectors who were also Lords of the Manor of Whitton.
To the south of the Altar is a thirteenth century Piscina (10) where the priest washes his fingers before the consecration in the Communion service. The carpet in the sanctuary and along the altar rail was worked by eighteen ladies of the Parish in 1972, the design being based on the knotwork of the Font.
The Memorial Chapel
The Chapel (11) is dedicated to the memory of the men of Rothbury who died in both World Wars.
The altar came from Sleights Church in North Yorkshire, the ends of the altar and the paneling from the old oak pews of the Church which in turn were made from trees from the ancient Rothbury Forest.
The windows were designed by LE. Evetts in keeping with the clear glass of old Northumbrian churches. He also executed the Regimental badges.
External features
The foundations of the tower are medieval but it has been much restored, and the village clock was placed in the tower in 1897. In more recent years the clock has been modified and is now electrically powered.
The west door was restored in the Early English style and is generally used on special occasions such as weddings, funerals and festivals.
In the outer porch (12) wall are three mediaeval stones, thought to be fragments from old grave covers.
On the south outside wall of the Chancel are two scratch sundials (13,14) – these are frequently found near the Priest’s Door of medieval churches as they are here. Also, on the south lawn, is a block sundial (15) – this used to be on the roof of the porch. It had four dials and was white-leaded for easier reading. (in 1728 this cost 1s 9d.).
The graveyards around the church and on the west side of the road are no longer in use. They contain the graves of some interesting people including the Armstrong family of Cragside.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
Canisius Church (Vienna)
(pictures you can see by clicking on the link at the end of page!)
Church seen from the street
View from the nave to the chancel
Apse wall, mosaic Christ with Apostles
Font with relief
The Canisius Church is a Roman Catholic parish church in the 9th District of Vienna Alsergrund.
History
On the 4th Austrian Catholic Day (4. Österreichischer Katholikentag) in 1896 made the Marianische Kaufmannskongregation (Marians Congregation of Businessmen9 the proposal, to set the Blessed Peter Canisius, chaplain and Episcopal Vicar of Vienna (1553 and 1554), to his 300th Obit a fitting monument. 1897 constituted the Canisius Church Building Association and placed itself under the auspices of Archduchess Maria Josepha, the mother of the future Emperor Charles I. On 31 July 1899, the feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola was begun with the construction of the temple and on 18 October 1903 it was inaugurated in the presence of Emperor Franz Joseph. In the short construction period of more than three years, the massive structure was completed. Since the time of the church building Peter Canisius, the first Jesuit of German language, not yet belonged to the blessed (canonized in 1925), the new church was not consecrated to his name. As title of ordination was therefore selected "The Suffering Savior in the Garden" and "The Painful Mother of God". A precious piece of rock from the Garden of Gethsemane was inserted into the foundation. Since 1939 the Vienna Canisius Church is the parish church for the parish of the same name .
Structure
The upper church was designed by the architect Gustav Ritter von Neumann. The church dominates with its two 85 meter high facade towers the entire Himmelpfortgrund. It is the fourth tallest church in Vienna. At the towers the colorful coat of arms of the most important patrons and donors are mounted. A wide staircase leads to the church porch, on the pediment in the center is a statue of Peter Canisius. In the niches to his side is to the left St. St. Ignatius and to the right Francis Xavier. This larger than life characters were created by Franz Barwig. The spacious interior, a long, high hall space, presents itself as a nave with a clear transept on both sides three chapel niches being left out. The decor is typical early Gothic forms.
The entire presbytery in the course of 1956 total renovation, designed by Ladislav Hruska in gray marble - with twelve steps - has been newly built. Instead of the former altar painting "Christ on the Mount of Olives" adorn the apse wall now the by pairs represented twelve apostles in mosaic design, with Henry Tahedl providing the templates. Erwin Klobassa designed the tabernacle, the two ambos stem of Josef Papst. A treasure is located in the ambulatory: In seven niches are displayed as wall paintings from the construction period, the stations of the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin in rich colors the ceiling vaults being ornamental and heraldic decorated - Maria sacrifices Jesus in the temple, Mary fled with Jesus to Egypt, Mary seeks Jesus in the temple, Mary encounters the cross-bearing Jesus, Mary stands beneath the Cross of Jesus, Mary holds the body of Jesus on the lap, Mary at the tomb of Jesus. The in many variants repetitive Habsburg house coat of arms refers to the number of donors from all lines of the imperial family. The two-storey choir in the nave also bears besides the Vienna and Lower Austria coat of arms the family emblem of the House of Habsburg-Lorraine, and in the vestibule announce two marble plaques in Latin and German of the dedication of the temple.
The glass windows stem from Hans Schock and show the Saints Stephen and Thomas, the St. Archangels Michael and St. Raphael, the St. Francis Xavier and St. Barbara, the St. Apostles Peter and Paul, the Saints Aloysius Gonzaga and Stanislaus Kostka, the St. Lawrence and St. Agnes of Rome and the Holy Family in the ambulatory.
Most of the tables of the side altars were adapted to the new style and overall sheathed in marble. The old altar of Heinrich Reinhart (1903 ) were preserved, as are the stained glass windows of the Tyrolean Hans Schock.
The niche paintings with column marble closers (Säulenriemchen - Säulenmensen) are on the left side to Hl. Joseph, to St. Guardian Angel and to St. Jude, on the right side to Hl. Ignatius, to St. Peter Canisius and to John of Nepomuk dedicated. The Holy Founder shows the motto of the Jesuits motto "OAMDG" (Omnia ad maiorem die gloriam/All for the greater glory of God). The patron saint of the church holds his catechism in hand, at his feet you can see Wiener Kids and in the background St. Stephen's Cathedral, the Infant Jesus of Prague is located in a shrine in front of the image of the patron saint of bridges (Nepomuk).
The spacious, in Romanesque forms built lower church (crypt) was set up as a chapel and meeting room for the various Marian Congregations and dedicated to the "Blessed Virgin Mary, the mistress and protectress of Sodalists". The altar, a foundation of the Lord Congregation at the University Church in the first District, sustains in the top part a large stone "Homage to the Sodalists before the Queen of Heaven" by Franz Barwig Elder. (1902).
Peter Canisius was canonized in 1925 and elevated to Doctor of the Church. Thus, the way was free to declare him by a decree of the Congregation of Rites to the main patron of the Canisius Church. In 1939, due to political considerations, the Canisius Church became parish church of "Parish Canisius church" bearing the same name.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
St Ethelbert, Hessett, Suffolk
Hessett is a fairly ordinary kind of village to the east of Bury St Edmunds, but its church is one of the most important in East Anglia for a number of reasons, which will become obvious. Consider for one moment, if you will, the extent to which the beliefs and practices of a religious community affect the architecture of its buildings. Think of a mosque, for instance. Often square, expressing the democracy of Islam, but without any imagery of the human figure, for such things are proscribed. Think of a synagogue, focused towards the Holy Scriptures in the Ark, but designed to enable the proclaiming of the Word, and the way that early non-conformist chapels echo this architecture of Judaism - indeed, those who built the first free churches, like Ipswich's Unitarian Chapel, actually called them synagogues.
The shape of a church, then, is no accident. A typical Suffolk perpendicular church of the 15th century has wide aisles, to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a large nave for devotional and social activities, and wall paintings of the Gospels and hagiographies of Saints, of the catechism and teachings of the Catholic Church. As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a medieval church is a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new church inherited buildings that were quite unsuitable for the new congregational protestant theology, a problem that the Church of England has never entirely solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways. The early reformers celebrated communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocked off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further. A pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the coming to influence of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This is the condition in which we find most of them today, and some Anglican theologians are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
So, let us hasten at once to Hessett. The church sits like a glowing jewel in its wide churchyard, right on the main road through the village. It is pretty well perfect if you are looking for a fine Suffolk exterior. An extensive 15th century rebuilding enwraps the earlier tower, which was crowned by the donor of the rebuilding, John Bacon.The nave and aisles are deliciously decorated, reminding one rather of the church at neighbouring Rougham, although this is a smaller church, and the aisles make it almost square. A dedicatory inscription on the two storey vestry in the north east corner bids us pray for the souls of John and Katherine Hoo, who donated the chancel and paid for the trimmings to the aisles. Their inscription has been damaged by protestant reformers, who obviously did not believe in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.
Although not comparable with that at Woolpit, the dressed stone porch is a grand affair, and a bold statement. You may find the south door locked, but if this is the case then the priest's door into the chancel is usually open. And in a way it is a good church to enter via the chancel, because in this way St Ethelbert unfolds its treasures slowly.You step into relative darkness - or, at least, it seems so in comparison with the nave beyond the rood screen. This is partly a result of the abundance of dark wood, and in truth the chancel seems rather overcrowded. The most striking objects in view are the return stalls, which fill the two westerly corners of the chancel. These are in the style of a college or school of priests, with their backs to the rood screen, but then 'returning' around the walls to the east. They are fine, and are certainly 15th or 16th century. But one of the stalls, that to the north, is different to the others, and seems slightly out of place. It is elaborately carved with faces, birds and foliage.
Mortlock thought that it might have been intended for a private house. The stall in front of it has heads on it that appear to be wearing 18th century wigs. The sanctuary is largely Victorianised, with a great east window depicting Saints. The south windows of the chancel depict a lovely Adoration scene by the O'Connors. The chancel is separated from the nave by the 15th century rood screen, which is elegantly painted and gilt on the west side, the beautifully tracery intricately carved above. The rood screen has been fitted with attractive iron gates, presumably evidence of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm here in the early 20th century, and you step down through them into the light. A first impression is that you are entering a much older space than the one you have left. There is an 18th century mustiness, enhanced by the box pews that line the aisles. And, beyond, on walls and in windows, are wonderful things.
The number of surviving wall paintings in England is a tiny fraction of those which existed before the 15th and 16th centuries. All churches had them, and in profusion. It isn't enough to say that they were a 'teaching aid' of a church of illiterate peasants. In the main, they were devotional, and that is why they were destroyed. However, it is more complicated than that. Research in recent years has indicated that many wall paintings were destroyed before the Reformation, perhaps a century before. In some churches, they have been punched through with Perpendicular windows, which are clearly pre-Reformation. In the decades after the Black Death, there seems to have been a sea change in the liturgical use of these buildings, a move away from an individualistic, devotional usage to a corporate liturgical one. There is a change of emphasis towards more education and exegesis. This is the time that pulpits and benches appear, long before protestantism was on the agenda. What seems to happen is that many buildings were intended now to be full of light, and devotional wall paintings were either whitewashed, or replaced with catechetical ones.
The decoration of the nave was the responsibility of the people of the parish, not of the Priest. The wall paintings of England can be divided into roughly three groups. Roughly speaking, the development of wall paintings over the later medieval period is in terms of these three overlapping emphases.
Firstly, the hagiographies - stories of the Saints. These might have had a local devotion, although some saints were popular over a wide area, and most churches seem to have supported a devotion to St Christopher right up until the Reformation.
Secondly came those which illustrate incidents in the life of Christ and his mother, the Blessed Virgin. Although partly pedagogical, they were also enabling tools, since private devotions often involved a contemplation upon them, and at Mass the larger part of those present would have been involved in private devotions. These scriptural stories were as likely to have been derived from apocryphal texts like the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew as from the actual Gospels themselves.
Lastly, there are catechetical wall paintings, illustrating the teachings of the Catholic church. It should not be assumed that these are dogmatic. Many are simply artistic representations of stories, and others are simplifications of theological ideas, as with the seven deadly sins and the seven cardinal virtues. Some warn against occasions of sin (gossiping, for example) and generally wall paintings provided a local site for discussion and exemplification.
To an extent, all the above is largely true of stained glass, as well, with the caveat that stained glass was more expensive, relied on local patronage, and often has this patronage as a subtext, hence the large number of heraldic devices and images of local worthies. But it was also devotional, and so it was also destroyed.
So - what survives at Hessett? The wall paintings first.
Starting in the south east corner of the nave, we have Suffolk's finest representation of St Barbara, presenting a tower. St Barbara was very popular in medieval times, because she was invoked against strikes by lightning and sudden fires. This resulted from her legend, for her father, on finding her to be a Christian, walled her up in a tower until she repented. As a result, he was struck by lightning, and reduced to ashes. She was also the patron saint of the powerful building trade, and as such her image graced their guild altars - perhaps that was the case here.
Above the south door is another figure, often identified as St Christopher, but I do not think that this can be the case. St Christopher is found nowhere else in Suffolk above a south door. The traditional iconography of this mythical saint is not in place here, and it is hard to see how this figure could ever have been interpreted as such. I suspect it is a result of an early account confusing the two images over the north and south doors, and the mistake being repeated in later accounts.
In fact, digital enhancement seems to suggest that there are two figures above the south door, overlapping each other slightly. The figure on the right is barefoot, that on the left is wearing a white gown. There appears to be water under their feet, and so I think this is an image of the Baptism of Christ. Perhaps it was once part of a sequence.
The wall painting opposite, above the north door, is St Christopher. Although it isn't as clear as himself at, say, nearby Bradfield Combust, he bestrides the river in the customary manner, staff in hand. The Christ child is difficult to discern, but you can see the fish in the water. Also in the water, and rather unusual, are two figures. They are rendered rather crudely, almost like gingerbread men. Could they be the donors of the north aisle, John and Katherine Hoo in person?
Moving along the north aisle, we come to the set of paintings for which Hessett is justifiably famous. They are set one above the other between two windows, at the point where might expect the now-vanished screen to a chapel to have been. The upper section was here first. It shows the seven deadly sins (described wrongly in some text books as a tree of Jesse, or ancestry of Christ). Two devils look on as, from the mouth of hell, a great tree sprouts, ending in seven images. Pride is at the top, and in pairs beneath are Gluttony and Anger, Vanity and Envy, Avarice and Lust. Mortlock suggests that some attempt has been made to erase the image for Lust, which may simply be mid-16th century puritan prurience on the part of some reformer here. This would suggest that this catechetical tool was here right up until the Reformation.
The idea of 'Seven Deadly Sins' was anathema to the reformers, because it is entirely unscriptural. Rather, as a catechetical tool, it is a way of drawing together a multitude of sins into a simplistic aide memoire. This could then be used in confession, taking each of them one at a time and examining ones conscience accordingly. It should not be seen simply as a 'warning' to ignorant peasants, for the evidence is that the ordinary rural people of late medieval England were theologically very articulate. Rather, it was a tool for use, in contemplation and preparation for the sacrament of reconciliation, which may well have ordinarily taken place in the chapel here.
The wall painting beneath the Sins is even more interesting. This is a very rare 'Christ of the Trades', and dates from the early 15th century, about a hundred years after the painting above. It is rather faded, and takes a while to discern, and not all of it is decodable. However, enough is there to be fascinating. The image of the 'Christ of the Trades' is known throughout Christendom, and contemporary versions with this can be found in other parts of Europe. It shows the risen Christ in the centre, and around him a vast array of the tools and symbols of various trades. One theory is that it depicts activities that should not take place on a Sunday, a holy day of obligation to refrain from work, and that these activities are wounding Christ anew.
Perhaps the most fascinating symbol, and the one that everyone notices, is the playing card. It shows the six of diamonds. Does it represent the makers of playing cards? If so, it might suggest a Flemish influence. Or could it be intended to represent something else? Whatever, it is one of the earliest representations of a playing card in England. Why is this here? It may very well be that there was a trades gild chantry chapel at the east end of the north aisle, and this painting was at its entrance.
At the east end of the north aisle now is the church's set of royal arms. Cautley saw it in the vestry in the 1930s, and identified it as a Queen Anne set. Now, with additions stripped away, it is revealed as a Charles II set from the 1660s, and a very fine one. It is fascinating to see it at such close range. Usually, they are set above the south door now, although they would originally have been placed above the chancel arch, in full view of the congregation, a gentle reminder of who was in charge.
And so to the glass, which on its own would be worth coming to Hessett to see. Few Suffolk churches have such an expanse, none have such a variety, or glass of such quality and interest. It consists essentially of two ranges, the life and Passion of Christ in the north aisle (although some glass has been reset across the church), and images and hagiographies of Saints in the south aisle.
In the north aisle, the scourging of Christ stands out, the wicked grins of the persecutors contrasting with the pained nobility of the Christ figure. In the next window, Christ rises from the dead, coming out of his tomb like the corpses in the doom paintings at Stanningfield, North Cove and Wenhaston. The Roman centurion sleeps soundly in the foreground.
The most famous image is in the east window of the south aisle. Apparently, it shows a bishop holding the chain to a bag, with four children playing at his feet. I say apparently, because there is rather more going on here than meets the eye. The reason that this image is so famous is that the small child in the foreground is holding what appears to be a golf club or hockey stick, and this would be the earliest representation of such an object in all Europe. The whole image has been said to represent St Nicholas, who was a Bishop, and whose legends include a bag of gold and a group of children.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. St Nicholas is never symbolised by a bag of gold, and there are three children in the St Nicholas legend, not four. In any case, the hand in the picture is not holding the chain to a bag at all, but a rosary, and the hockey stick is actually a fuller's club, used for dyeing clothes, and the symbol of St James the Less.
What has happened here is that the head of a Bishop has been grafted on to the body of a figure which is probably still in its original location. The three lights of this window contained a set of the Holy Kinship. The light to the north of the 'Bishop' contains two children playing with what ae apparently toys, but when you look closely you can see that one is holding a golden shell, and the other a poisoned chalice. They are the infant St James and St John, and the lost figure above them was their mother, Mary Salome.
This means that the figure with the Bishop's head is actually Mary Cleophas, mother of four children including St James the Less. The third light to the south, of course, would have depicted the Blessed Virgin and child, but she is lost to us.
Not only this, but Hessett has some very good 19th Century glass which complements and does not overly intrude. The best is beneath the tower, the west window in a fully 15th Century style of scenes by Clayton & Bell. The east window, depicting saints, is by William Warrington, and the chancel also has the O'Connor glass already mentioned.
If the windows and wall paintings were all there was, then Hessett would be remarkable enough. But there is something else, two things, actually, that elevate it above all other Suffolk churches, and all the churches of England. For St Ethelbert is the proud owner of two unique survivals. At the back of the church is a chest, no different from those you'll find in many a parish church. In common with those, it has three separate locks, the idea being that the Rector and two Churchwardens would have a key each, and it would be necessary for all three of them to be present for the chest to be opened. It was used for storing parish records and valuables.
At some point, one of the keys was lost. There is an old story about the iconoclast William Dowsing turning up here and demanding the chest be opened, but on account of the missing key it couldn't be. Unfortunately, this story isn't true, for Dowsing never recorded a visit Hessett. The chest was eventually opened in the 19th century. Inside were found two extraordinary pre-Reformation survivals. These are a pyx cloth and a burse. The pyx cloth was draped over the wooden canopy that enclosed the blessed sacrament (one of England's four surviving medieval pyxes is also in Suffolk, at Dennington) before it was raised above the high altar. The burse was used to contain the host before consecration at the Mass. They are England's only surviving examples, and they're both here. Or, more precisely they aren't, for both have been purloined by the British Museum, the kind of theft that no locked church can prevent.
But there are life-size photos of both either side of the tower arch. The burse is basically an envelope, and features the Veronica face of Christ on one side with the four evangelistic symbols in each corner. On the other is an Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. The survival of both is extraordinary. It is one thing to explore the furnishings of lost Catholic England, quite another to come face to face with articles that were actually used in the liturgy.
In front of the pictures stands the font, a relatively good one of the early 15th century, though rather less exciting than everything going on around it. The dedicatory inscription survives, to a pair of Hoos of an earlier generation than the ones on the vestry.Turning east again, the ranks of simple 15th century benches are all of a piece with their church. They have survived the violent transitions of the centuries, and have seated generation after generation of Hessett people. They were new here when this church was alive with coloured light, with the hundreds of candles flickering on the rood beam, the processions, the festivals, and the people's lives totally integrated with the liturgy of the seasons. For the people of Catholic England, their religion was as much a part of them as the air they breathed. They little knew how soon it would all come to an end.
And so, there it is - one of the most fascinating and satisfactory of all East Anglia's churches. And yet, not many people know about it. We are only three miles from the brown-signed honeypot of Woolpit, where a constant stream of visitors come and go. I've visited Hessett many times, and never once encountered another visitor. Still, there you are, I suppose. Perhaps some places are better kept secret. But come here if you can, for here is a medieval worship space with much surviving evidence of what it was actually meant to be, and meant to do.
The remains of the wreck (a small section of the bow) at Hakoya, near Tromso, Norway. Destroyed by RAF Lancaster bombers on 12 November 1944, with the loss of 1,000 lives.
Voices from those trapped inside the capsized battleship could be heard singing the Deutschlandlied ... before silence fell ...
My view is looking southeast, with Tromso and snow covered mountains in the background, on a cool -5C morning.
Reference:-
Statue at Xavier University
St. Aloysius, Jesuit Scholastic, canonized December 31, 1726, Patron of Purity and State of Life
Erected by St. Xavier College Students 1926-27
Aloysius Gonzaga (March 9, 1568 – June 21, 1591) was an Italian Jesuit and saint.
Aloysius (Luigi) Gonzaga was born at his family's castle in Castiglione delle Stiviere, between Brescia and Mantova in northern Italy in what was then part of the Papal States. He was a member of the illustrious House of Gonzaga. He was the oldest son of the Ferrante Gonzaga (1544–1586), Marquis of Castiglione, and Marta Tana di Santena, daughter of a baron of the Piedmontese Della Rovere family.
His father assumed that he would become a soldier, as the family was constantly involved in the frequent minor wars in the area. His military training started at an early age, but he also received an education in languages and other subjects. In 1576, at age 8, he was sent to Florence with his younger brother Ridolfo, to serve at the court of Grand Duke Francesco I de' Medici and to receive further education. While there, he fell ill with a disease of the kidneys, which was to trouble him throughout his life. While he was ill, he took the opportunity to read about the saints and to spend much of his time in prayer. He is said to have taken a private vow of chastity at the age of 9. In November 1579, the brothers were sent to the Duke of Mantua. Aloysius was shocked by the violent and frivolous life-style he encountered there.
In 1580, he returned to Castiglione. There, he met Cardinal Charles Borromeo in July of the same year. The cardinal found out that Aloysius had not yet received his first holy communion, and gave this to him on 22 July 1580. After reading a book about Jesuit missionaries in India, he felt strongly that he wanted to become a missionary himself. He started practicing by giving catechism classes to young boys in Castiglione in the summers, and by repeatedly visiting the Capuchins and Barnabites in Casale Monferrato, the capital of the Gonzaga-ruled Duchy of Montferrat where the family spent the winter. He also adopted an ascetic life-style.
The family was called to Spain in 1581, to assist Empress Mary of Austria. They arrived in Madrid in March 1582, and Aloysius and Ridolfo became pages for the infante don Diego, Prince of Asturias (1575–82). He then started thinking in earnest about joining a religious order. He had considered joining the Capuchins, but he had a Jesuit confessor in Madrid, and decided to join that order. His mother agreed to his request to join the Jesuits, but his father was furious. In July 1584, one and a half years after the infante's death, the family returned to Italy. Aloysius still wanted to become a priest, and several members of his family worked hard to persuade him to change his mind. When they realized that there was no way to make him give up his plan, they tried to persuade him to become a secular priest, and to arrange for a bishopric for him. If he became a Jesuit he would renounce any right to income from property or status in society. His family was afraid of this, but their attempts to persuade him not to join the Jesuits failed; Aloysius was not interested in higher office and still wanted to become a missionary.
In November 1585, Aloysius gave up all rights of inheritance, and this was confirmed by the emperor. He went to Rome and, because of his noble birth, gained an audience with Pope Sixtus V. Following a brief stay at the Palazzo Aragona Gonzaga, the Rome home of his cousin, Cardinal Scipione Gonzaga on 25 November 1585 he was accepted into the Jesuit Roman novitiate by the order's general, Claudius Acquaviva. He was asked to moderate his asceticism somewhat, as it disrupted his relationship with the other novices; they found it difficult to speak with him when he isolated himself. In part, this may also have been caused by his upbringing, where he had never learned to relate to people outside the court.
His health continued to cause problems. In addition to the kidney disease, he also suffered from a skin disease, chronic headaches and insomnia. He was sent to Milan for studies, but after some time he was sent back to Rome because of his health. On November 25, 1587, he took the three religious vows of chastity, poverty and obedience. In February and March 1588, he received the lower ordinations, and started studying theology to prepare for the priesthood. In 1589, he was called to Mantua to mediate between his brother Ridolfo and the Duke of Mantua. He returned to Rome in May 1590. Later that year, he had a vision in which the Archangel Gabriel told him that he would die within a year.
In 1591, a plague broke out in Rome. The Jesuits opened a hospital for the stricken, and Aloysius volunteered to work there. He was allowed to work in a ward where there were no plague victims, as they were afraid to lose him. As it turned out, a man on his ward was infected, and on March 3, 1591 (six days before his 23rd birthday) Aloysius showed the first symptoms of being infected. It seemed certain that he would die in a short time, and he was given Extreme unction. To everyone's surprise, he recovered, but his health was left worse than ever. While he was ill, he spoke several times with his confessor, cardinal Robert Bellarmine. Aloysius had another vision, and told his confessor that he would die on the Octave of the feast of Corpus Christi. On that day, which fell on June 21, he seemed very well in the morning, but insisted that he would die before the day was over. Cardinal Bellarmine gave him the sacraments, and recited the prayers for the dying.
He died just before midnight on June 21, 1591.
Saint Marie of the Incarnation, O.S.U.
Missionary, Foundress of the Ursuline Order in Canada
Born Marie Guyart
28 October 1599 — Tours, Touraine, Kingdom of France
Died 30 April 1672
Québec City, Canada, New France
Beatified 22 June 1980, Vatican City, by Pope John Paul II
Canonized 2 April 2014 by Pope Francis
Feast 30 April
Marie of the Incarnation, O.S.U. (28 October 1599 – 30 April 1672) was an Ursuline nun of the French order. As part of a group of nuns sent to New France to establish the Ursuline Order, Marie was crucial in the spread of Catholicism in New France. Moreover, she has been credited with founding the first girls’ school in the New World. Due to her work, the Catholic Church declared her a saint, and the Anglican Church of Canada celebrates her with a feast day.
Early life
Marie of the Incarnation was born Marie Guyart in Tours, France. Her father was a silk merchant. She was the fourth of Florent Guyart and Jeanne Michelet’s eight children and from an early age she was drawn to religious liturgy and the sacraments. When Marie was seven years old, she experienced her first mystical encounter with Jesus Christ. In her book Relation of 1654, she recounted: “With my eyes toward heaven, I saw our Lord Jesus Christ in human form come forth and move through the air to me. As Jesus in his wondrous majesty was approaching me, I felt my heart enveloped by his love and I began to extend my arms to embrace him. Then he put his arms about me, kissed me lovingly, and said, ‘Do you wish to belong to me?’ I answered, ‘Yes!’ And having received my consent, he ascended back into Heaven.” From that point onward, Marie felt “inclined towards goodness.”
Intent on belonging to Christ, Marie, aged fourteen, proposed to her parents that she enter religious life with the Benedictines of Beaumont Abbey but her parents disregarded her desire. Instead, she was married to Claude Martin, a master silk worker in 1617. By her own account, she enjoyed a happy - although brief - marriage and within two years she had a son, also named Claude. Her husband died only months after the birth of their son, leaving Marie a widow at the age of nineteen.
With her husband’s death, Marie inherited his failing business which she then lost. Forced to move into her parent’s home, Marie secluded herself to pursue a deepening of her commitment to spiritual growth. After a year with her parents, Guyart was invited to move in with her sister and brother-in-law, Paul Buisson, who owned a successful transportation business. She accepted, and helped in managing their house and kitchen.
Though nothing could distract Marie from the pursuit of a spiritual life. “I was constantly occupied by my intense concentration on God,” she wrote in Relation of 1633. Over time, her inclination toward religious life only grew and eventually led her to enter the Ursuline convent on 25 January 1631.
Religious beginnings
Free to pursue her religious inclinations after her husband’s death, Marie took a vow of chastity, obedience and poverty. On 24 March 1620, she received a religious vision that set her on a new path of devotional intensity.
In 1627 Marie read Vida, the autobiography of the Spanish mystic Teresa of Ávila. Marie found many spiritual connections with Teresa, and was heavily influenced by her work. After reading Vida, Marie long aspired to the same goal of her Spanish role model of travelling to the New World and becoming a martyr there. Fueled by Jesuit propaganda and her own visions, Marie became more and more encouraged to travel to New France. So much so, she experienced a vision that would inspire her voyage to the New World and in Relation of 1654 she wrote, “I saw at some distance to my left a little church of white marble...the Blessed Virgin was seated. She was holding the Child Jesus on her lap. This place was elevated, and below it lay a majestic and vast country, full of mountains, of valleys, of thick mists which permeated everything except the church...The Blessed Virgin, Mother of God, looked down on this country, as pitiable as it was amazing...it seamed to me that she spoke about this country and about myself and that she had in mind some plan which involved me.” With the assistance of her spiritual director, Marie identified the country to be Canada and further incentivized her departure to New France. Despite never achieving martyrdom, Marie would spend many years in the New World aspiring towards it, working diligently in the meantime. After her death, the two names would often be connected, and Marie would occasionally be referred to as the Teresa of Canada.
In 1631, after working with a spiritual director for many years, Guyart decided to enter the Ursuline monastery in Tours to try her religious vocation, at which time she received the religious name by which she is now known. Joining the monastery required her to leave her young son, and he expressed much difficulty with the separation. Claude tried to storm the monastery with a band of school friends, and could repeatedly be found crying at the gates, trying to enter. She left him in the care of the Buisson family, but the emotional pain of the separation would remain with them both. Later, when her son had become a Benedictine monk, they corresponded candidly about their spiritual and emotional trials.
New France
Pre-departure
Prior to her departure, Marie de l’Incarnation had been leading a cloistered life as a member of the Ursuline Order. After having professed her vows in 1633, she changed her name to Marie de l’Incarnation; that Christmas, she was confronted with a powerful vision, which functioned as the catalyst for her mission to New France. In this mystical dream, Marie saw herself walking hand in hand with a fellow laywoman against the backdrop of a foreign landscape, on the roof of a small church in this distant, foggy landscape sat the Virgin Mary and Jesus; she interpreted this as the mother and son discussing her religious calling to the new land. She recounted the vision to her priest at the Order, who informed her that the nation she described was Canada, and suggested that she read The Jesuit Relations; from this Marie concluded that her vocation was to help establish the Catholic Faith in the New World.
Personal and financial obstacles delayed her departure by four years. Over this time, she maintained a continuous correspondence with Jesuits in Quebec who were supportive of a female religious presence, which might facilitate the Christianization of Huron women; Marie’s Mother Superior in Tours, and her pre-Ursuline religious director Dom Raymond de Saint Bernard were largely unsupportive, the latter suggesting that it was too lofty for a lowly laywoman. Marie was met with similar resistance from her family. Her brother, Claude Guyart attempted to persuade her into abandoning her mission by accusing her of parental neglect, and by revoking an inheritance designated for her son; these measures did not deter her.
Marie’s initial financial concerns for the funding of the journey, and the establishment of a convent in New France were resolved when she was introduced to Madeleine de la Peltrie on 19 February 1639. Marie recognized that this religiously devoted widow, the daughter of a fiscal officer, was the laywoman from her vision four years earlier. De la Peltrie’s contribution to the endeavour was met with strong opposition from her aristocratic family; to garner their support, de la Peltrie arranged a sham marriage with Christian Jean de Brenière. Madeleine’s new marital status gave her the legal authority to sign over the bulk of her estate to the Ursuline Order, thereby fully funding the mission. Following this, the Ursuline went to Paris, and signed legal contracts with the Company of One Hundred Associates, and the Jesuit Fathers, who were responsible for the colony’s political and spiritual life, respectively. The official royal charter sanctioning the establishment of the foundation was signed by Louis XII shortly thereafter.
On 4 May 1639, Marie de l’Incarnation and Madeleine de la Peltrie, set sail from Dieppe for Quebec on board the Saint Joseph. They were accompanied by a fellow aristocratic Ursuline Marie de Sanonières, the young commoner Charlotte Barré, three nurses, and two Jesuit Fathers.
Arrival
In August 1639 the group landed in Quebec City and established a convent in the lower town. When they began their first work at the foot of the mountain, Quebec was but a name. Hardly six houses stood on the site chosen by Champlain thirty-one years previously. She and her companions at first occupied a little house in the lower town (Basse-Ville). In 1642 the Ursulines moved to a permanent stone building in the upper town. The group managed to found the first school in what would become Canada, as well as the Ursuline Monastery of Quebec, which has been designated one of the National Historic Sites of Canada.
Early interactions with the native populations
Marie de l’Incarnation’s early interactions with Native populations were largely shaped by the constraints created by differing lifestyles, illnesses, and alliances. Indigenous divisions of manual and domestic labour by gender and age diverged significantly from European conceptions of masculine and feminine spheres of work. This made it difficult for Marie and the other Ursulines to educate young girls with methods developed in Europe.
With European colonization came an influx of illnesses. Smallpox outbreaks from the 1630s to the 1650s ravaged Native populations, leading them to believe that Jesuits and Ursulines were imparting disease through their religious practices, and paraphernalia. Fears that baptisms, holy icons and crosses were the source of all epidemics greatly limited the groups’ interactions, and strained Marie’s relationship with Natives in her first decades in New France.
The most volatile relationship Marie and the Ursulines faced revolved around the conflict pitting the French, Huron and other indigenous allies against the Iroquois. Iroquois hostility towards the Jesuit-allied Hurons shaped Marie’s negative view of the Five Nations. Iroquois military victories in the 1650s, and their dominance by the start of the next decade, brought Marie and the Ursulines close to despair. Their distress was heightened by a fire that destroyed their convent in 1650;[15] simultaneous political troubles in France caused European Ursulines to pressure their Canadian sisters to return home, adding to Marie and the Ursulines’ stresses, and fears. Such feelings of helplessness were quelled, however, when the convent was reconstructed with seemingly miraculous speed; a blessing attributed to the Virgin Mary.
Universalizing Impulses
A strong, universalizing impulse underscored Marie de l’Incarnation’s interactions, and activities in New France. Her perceptions of similarities between European Christians, and the potential converts in the New World were the upshots of a cloistered convent life, and largely non-existent experiences with other cultures;[18] such seclusion allowed for an over-simplification of her ambition to spread God’s word transnationally. According to Natalie Zemon Davis, the integrative approach towards Native interactions that developed from this mindset was dissimilar to the Jesuit’s methods of establishing relationships in New France. Jesuits, adopted Native roles in the presence of First Nations peoples, but were quick to shed these association when outside the confines of their settlements; this double life made any fully integrative experience, or universal mindset impossible.
Marie noticed that Native girls were in possession of commendable traits such as submissiveness, and conscientiousness, which would facilitate their adoption of Christian practices, and their commitment to a Christian marriage; the two pillars of a thorough, universalizing conversion.
Education
In the 17th century, a key pillar of education was religious education. Marie followed a strict orthodox teaching method she learnt during her time with the Ursulines in Tours. The system was based on basics of faith, French and Latin literature and civility. The basics of faith included catechism, prayers and hymns. The main objective of the Ursuline school was to educate young French girls and Natives to become good Christians. The young French girls paid one hundred and twenty livres to cover both their education and pension fees. At the time, the young Native girls did not have to pay for their education. The Ursuline’s encouraged the young Montagnais, Hurons and Algonquins to use the seminary as a resource. These girls were taught French mannerisms and were taught how to dress based on French culture. After their education, the young aboriginal students were encouraged to go back to their homes and share their teachings. By educating young girls from different tribes, francization was transmitted from daughter to mother. In her writings, Marie emphasized the fact that the Aboriginal students were treated the same way as the French students at the school. They allowed the girls to sing hymns in both French and their native languages. Many of the nuns created mother-like bonds with the First Nation students. However, there were some problems with the education system during the 17th century. Some students did not stay at the school long enough to receive a complete education. The Ursuline nuns did not have the authority to keep them if the girls want to leave. Another problem was limited economic resources. The school could only accept a limited number of students because of a lack of funds.
Death
Marie died of a liver illness on 30 April 1672. In the necrology report sent to the Ursulines of France, it was written: “The numerous and specific virtues and excellent qualities which shone through this dear deceased, make us firmly believe that she enjoys a high status in God’s glory.”
Works
In addition to her religious duties, Marie composed multiple works that reflected her experiences and observations during her time in the New World and the spiritual calling that led her there.
In relation to her work with the indigenous population, Marie learned Montagnais, Algonquin, Huron, and Iroquois, writing dictionaries and catechisms in each (none of which have survived to today), as well as in her native French. Marie also wrote two autobiographies, though her second Relation was destroyed in a fire at the convent while still in manuscript.
Her most significant writings, however, were the 8,000-20,000 letters she wrote to various acquaintances, the majority of which went to her son Claude. Despite being personal correspondence, some of her letters were circulated throughout France and appeared in The Jesuit Relation in love while she was still alive. Many of the remainder were then published by her son after her death. These letters constitute one of the sources for the history of the French colony from 1639 to 1671. Her collection of works discuss political, commercial, religious and interpersonal aspects of the colony and are helpful in the reconstruction and understanding of New France in the seventeenth century.
Canonization
Marie was declared venerable in 1874. She was then beatified by Pope John Paul II on 22 June 1980. She was canonized by Pope Francis on 2 April 2014. The Pontiff waived the requirement of two miracles for Marie and she was granted “equivalent canonization” alongside François de Laval, the first Bishop of Quebec.
Legacy
Marie of the Incarnation is a celebrated founder of the Ursuline Order in colonial New France. Her work with the Amerindians has been recognized by the Anglican Church of Canada and they celebrate her life with a feast day on 30 April. A number of Catholic schools have been named after her. At Laval University, in Québec City, there is the Centre d’Études Marie de l’Incarnation, that is a multi-disciplinary program pertaining to theology and religious practice.
Marie is recognized for her contribution to Canada with a statue that sits in front of the Québec parliament. The sculpture was designed by Joseph-Émile Brunet in 1965 and is located at the Basilica of SainteAnne de Beaupré.
As you can imagine, in that I am still posting shots from June, I have got a little behind with my postings. So, for the past two days I have been posting soe un-edited shots from a could of churches we visited whilst in Northumberland, and later I will post shots of the church in Alnwick which we also visited and I snapped.
In addition to these, i have shots of four Kentish churches from May to edit and post, as well as some shots from Bejing airport when I left China.
At least there are no more orchid shots for a while, eh?
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This is an ancient place of worship – the Gospel has been preached here for probably 1,200 years. The Anglo-Saxons had a royal burgh here and the existence of the Anglian cross would indicate that there was a church here in those days.
It is surprising that any relics of old churches are found in the Coquet Valley. There were two periods of destruction of churches in England – the Reformation and Cromwell’s Commonwealth. In addition to that, in this area there were Viking and Norman invasions, followed for many years by the incursions of the Scots. The Coquet valley, serene as it may seem today, was one of the most violent parts of England.
The monastic church at Rothbury must have been destroyed either by the Vikings or even the Normans; however the eastern part seems to have survived to become the foundation of a new building at some time in the thirteenth century, part of which can still be seen in the chancel, the chancel arch and the east walls of the transepts.
In the eighteenth century the church had galleries, dormer windows and a three-decker pulpit but these all disappeared in the restoration of 1850, undertaken by the Rector, Canon C. Vernon Harcourt. With a few additions and alterations this is the church we see today. This was a busy period of church building in the valley. Within two years, the churches at Rothbury, Alwinton and Holystone were either rebuilt, modified or restored.
Most of the stained glass in the Church is Victorian, the exceptions being two windows on the north wall in memory of local head teachers and those in the Memorial Chapel in the south transept.
In the Baptistry (1) is the greatest treasure of the church; the pedestal of the font. This is part of the shaft of the Anglo-Saxon cross, dated around 800AD. More remnants of this cross were discovered during the 1850 restoration; they are now in the Museum of Antiquities, Newcastle. On the north side is what is said to be the earliest carving of the Ascension in this country. The Disciples can be seen gazing up to the ascending Christ. The south side is a panel of intricate knotwork, the west side has a carving of beasts preying on one another and on the east side an animal (a lion) can be seen walking between double branches bearing fruit in clusters of three.
The bowl of the font dates from 1664 replacing one damaged during the unrest of the Civil War and the Commonwealth. The font cover is twentieth-century, given in memory of Lady Armstrong. Lord Armstrong’s funeral hatchment hangs on the south wall (2).
In the corner stands a small bell which hung in the tower above until 1893 when the present peal of eight bells was given to the church. It is inscribed ‘John Thomlinson, Rector of Rothbury 1682’. It was a product of the well known Whitechapel Foundry.
On the east side of the Baptistry screen are the boards bearing the names of the Rectors of Rothbury from Lucas in 1287, to the last Rector of the parish of Rothbury. In the new parish of Upper Coquetdale, the incumbent also carries the title of Rector.
The Bells
There is a peal of eight bells in the tower with the tenor bell weighing 13cwt 3qr 15lb. They were presented to the church in 1893 in memory of William Dawson by his sister, Mary.
The Nave
The nave was totally restored in 1850 – of necessity it would seem. However, the nave arch has origins as far back as the thirteenth century.
The pews are numbered, possibly from the era when individuals or families had their own private pew. Either for a standard fee, or in some cases by auction, a pew could be acquired for personal occupation. This custom died mostly during the late Victorian period. The numbering system was sometimes retained after this time as a means of keeping maintenance records.
The pulpit (3) is a fine piece of Victorian carving, given in 1901 in memory of Lady Armstrong depicting Bernard Gilpin, the 16th century “Apostle of the North” along with Saints Columba, Paulinus, Hilda and Aidan. The brass eagle lectern is of the same period.
The screen (4), another piece of beautiful wood carving, was installed in 1901 in memory of Lord Armstrong. On the mouldings of the beam is a series of eighteen shields blazoned with the arms of landowners, benefactors, patrons, and communities connected with Rothbury Church and parish from the 12th century down to the time of installation.
The inner porch on the south door (5) was erected in 1929 in memory of Dr Thomas Sharpe, Rector 1720 – 1758; another great benefactor of the Parish. One legacy of Dr. Sharpe is “Sharpe’s Folly” half a mile away at Whitton. It is a 30ft high tower, reported to be built to provide local masons with employment, but also to be used as an observatory.
The Chancel
There are two thirteenth century arches in the north wall of the chancel, separating the chancel from the vestries (6). The building containing the vestries stands on the site of the old Cartington chantry, and was built in 1886. The chantry which belonged to the Cartington estate was endowed for the maintenance of a priest to celebrate masses for the benefit of the souls of the founder and his family. After the Reformation, when prayers for the dead were forbidden, the chantry appears to have fallen into decay over the next hundred years. The arches were sealed to keep out inclement weather (and vandals), and remained that way for another two hundred years before the modifications in 1886.
In 1658 it was, ordered that “no grave be dig’d in ye bodye of the Church under the price of 5/-. Because it not being flag’ d would not only spoile the seats and floor, but endanger ye people’s health by infectious aire” – consequently the chancel had a marble pavement laid about 1710 (this was later covered) and the Nave was flagged for the first time in 1730.
The oak choir stalls are dedicated to the memory of Edward Mallet Young, Rector of Rothbury, 1894-1900.
The oak screen that divides the chancel from the priest’s vestry (6) is decorated with tracery work, and in its twelve panels there are the family coats of arms of twelve of the rectors of Rothbury.
The organ screen is a memorial to those who fell in the First World War. This screen is surmounted by organ pipes which are purely decorative. Looking between these pipes, the highly decorated genuine functional pipes may be seen.
Around 1840, the music in the services was provided by a string band, clarinets and violins, which were succeeded by a barrel organ. The present organ was given by Lord Armstrong and the rector, Rev. C.G.V. Harcourt in 1866. It was built by Hill and Sons of London in 1866, a company that operated in London from 1862 to 1917 before becoming Hill, Norman and Beard. When installed, it was sited at the west end of the church. Its precise location is not known but it may be assumed from the design of the instrument that the organist would sit with his back to the congregation. Playing while trying to control the choir at the east end of the church at the same time must have been extremely difficult, and it is probable that the choir sat at the west end of the church at that time.
The organ was later moved to its present position (7), certainly earlier than 1901, and would presumably be following or at the time of building the new vestry in 1887.
It is a two manual instrument with eleven speaking stops, and has never been modified in design – it still has a flat pedal board and the swell pedal is unbalanced, being able to be notched in position as the organist wishes.
An electric blower was installed many years ago, but the handle for hand blowing the bellows is still in place should it ever be needed.
The Sanctuary
On the east wall behind the altar is a finely made reredos (8) of Corsham Down stone, alabaster, and marble, consisting of five trefoil-headed arches.
The paneling in the sanctuary was installed in the early twentieth century. On the north side is the Thomlinson Memorial. (9) Dr John Thomlinson was Rector of Rothbury from 1679 to 1720. He was one of the greatest benefactor of the Parish; among many other things he founded a school where there were two masters “to teach gratis all such children within the Parish to read and understand the English, Latin and Greek tongues and to write, cast accounts and the Church catechism”.
The heraldic devices on the paneling belong to former Rectors who were also Lords of the Manor of Whitton.
To the south of the Altar is a thirteenth century Piscina (10) where the priest washes his fingers before the consecration in the Communion service. The carpet in the sanctuary and along the altar rail was worked by eighteen ladies of the Parish in 1972, the design being based on the knotwork of the Font.
The Memorial Chapel
The Chapel (11) is dedicated to the memory of the men of Rothbury who died in both World Wars.
The altar came from Sleights Church in North Yorkshire, the ends of the altar and the paneling from the old oak pews of the Church which in turn were made from trees from the ancient Rothbury Forest.
The windows were designed by LE. Evetts in keeping with the clear glass of old Northumbrian churches. He also executed the Regimental badges.
External features
The foundations of the tower are medieval but it has been much restored, and the village clock was placed in the tower in 1897. In more recent years the clock has been modified and is now electrically powered.
The west door was restored in the Early English style and is generally used on special occasions such as weddings, funerals and festivals.
In the outer porch (12) wall are three mediaeval stones, thought to be fragments from old grave covers.
On the south outside wall of the Chancel are two scratch sundials (13,14) – these are frequently found near the Priest’s Door of medieval churches as they are here. Also, on the south lawn, is a block sundial (15) – this used to be on the roof of the porch. It had four dials and was white-leaded for easier reading. (in 1728 this cost 1s 9d.).
The graveyards around the church and on the west side of the road are no longer in use. They contain the graves of some interesting people including the Armstrong family of Cragside.
Saint Marie of the Incarnation, O.S.U.
Missionary, Foundress of the Ursuline Order in Canada
Born Marie Guyart
28 October 1599 — Tours, Touraine, Kingdom of France
Died 30 April 1672
Québec City, Canada, New France
Beatified 22 June 1980, Vatican City, by Pope John Paul II
Canonized 2 April 2014 by Pope Francis
Feast 30 April
Marie of the Incarnation, O.S.U. (28 October 1599 – 30 April 1672) was an Ursuline nun of the French order. As part of a group of nuns sent to New France to establish the Ursuline Order, Marie was crucial in the spread of Catholicism in New France. Moreover, she has been credited with founding the first girls’ school in the New World. Due to her work, the Catholic Church declared her a saint, and the Anglican Church of Canada celebrates her with a feast day.
Early life
Marie of the Incarnation was born Marie Guyart in Tours, France. Her father was a silk merchant. She was the fourth of Florent Guyart and Jeanne Michelet’s eight children and from an early age she was drawn to religious liturgy and the sacraments. When Marie was seven years old, she experienced her first mystical encounter with Jesus Christ. In her book Relation of 1654, she recounted: “With my eyes toward heaven, I saw our Lord Jesus Christ in human form come forth and move through the air to me. As Jesus in his wondrous majesty was approaching me, I felt my heart enveloped by his love and I began to extend my arms to embrace him. Then he put his arms about me, kissed me lovingly, and said, ‘Do you wish to belong to me?’ I answered, ‘Yes!’ And having received my consent, he ascended back into Heaven.” From that point onward, Marie felt “inclined towards goodness.”
Intent on belonging to Christ, Marie, aged fourteen, proposed to her parents that she enter religious life with the Benedictines of Beaumont Abbey but her parents disregarded her desire. Instead, she was married to Claude Martin, a master silk worker in 1617. By her own account, she enjoyed a happy - although brief - marriage and within two years she had a son, also named Claude. Her husband died only months after the birth of their son, leaving Marie a widow at the age of nineteen.
With her husband’s death, Marie inherited his failing business which she then lost. Forced to move into her parent’s home, Marie secluded herself to pursue a deepening of her commitment to spiritual growth. After a year with her parents, Guyart was invited to move in with her sister and brother-in-law, Paul Buisson, who owned a successful transportation business. She accepted, and helped in managing their house and kitchen.
Though nothing could distract Marie from the pursuit of a spiritual life. “I was constantly occupied by my intense concentration on God,” she wrote in Relation of 1633. Over time, her inclination toward religious life only grew and eventually led her to enter the Ursuline convent on 25 January 1631.
Religious beginnings
Free to pursue her religious inclinations after her husband’s death, Marie took a vow of chastity, obedience and poverty. On 24 March 1620, she received a religious vision that set her on a new path of devotional intensity.
In 1627 Marie read Vida, the autobiography of the Spanish mystic Teresa of Ávila. Marie found many spiritual connections with Teresa, and was heavily influenced by her work. After reading Vida, Marie long aspired to the same goal of her Spanish role model of travelling to the New World and becoming a martyr there. Fueled by Jesuit propaganda and her own visions, Marie became more and more encouraged to travel to New France. So much so, she experienced a vision that would inspire her voyage to the New World and in Relation of 1654 she wrote, “I saw at some distance to my left a little church of white marble...the Blessed Virgin was seated. She was holding the Child Jesus on her lap. This place was elevated, and below it lay a majestic and vast country, full of mountains, of valleys, of thick mists which permeated everything except the church...The Blessed Virgin, Mother of God, looked down on this country, as pitiable as it was amazing...it seamed to me that she spoke about this country and about myself and that she had in mind some plan which involved me.” With the assistance of her spiritual director, Marie identified the country to be Canada and further incentivized her departure to New France. Despite never achieving martyrdom, Marie would spend many years in the New World aspiring towards it, working diligently in the meantime. After her death, the two names would often be connected, and Marie would occasionally be referred to as the Teresa of Canada.
In 1631, after working with a spiritual director for many years, Guyart decided to enter the Ursuline monastery in Tours to try her religious vocation, at which time she received the religious name by which she is now known. Joining the monastery required her to leave her young son, and he expressed much difficulty with the separation. Claude tried to storm the monastery with a band of school friends, and could repeatedly be found crying at the gates, trying to enter. She left him in the care of the Buisson family, but the emotional pain of the separation would remain with them both. Later, when her son had become a Benedictine monk, they corresponded candidly about their spiritual and emotional trials.
New France
Pre-departure
Prior to her departure, Marie de l’Incarnation had been leading a cloistered life as a member of the Ursuline Order. After having professed her vows in 1633, she changed her name to Marie de l’Incarnation; that Christmas, she was confronted with a powerful vision, which functioned as the catalyst for her mission to New France. In this mystical dream, Marie saw herself walking hand in hand with a fellow laywoman against the backdrop of a foreign landscape, on the roof of a small church in this distant, foggy landscape sat the Virgin Mary and Jesus; she interpreted this as the mother and son discussing her religious calling to the new land. She recounted the vision to her priest at the Order, who informed her that the nation she described was Canada, and suggested that she read The Jesuit Relations; from this Marie concluded that her vocation was to help establish the Catholic Faith in the New World.
Personal and financial obstacles delayed her departure by four years. Over this time, she maintained a continuous correspondence with Jesuits in Quebec who were supportive of a female religious presence, which might facilitate the Christianization of Huron women; Marie’s Mother Superior in Tours, and her pre-Ursuline religious director Dom Raymond de Saint Bernard were largely unsupportive, the latter suggesting that it was too lofty for a lowly laywoman. Marie was met with similar resistance from her family. Her brother, Claude Guyart attempted to persuade her into abandoning her mission by accusing her of parental neglect, and by revoking an inheritance designated for her son; these measures did not deter her.
Marie’s initial financial concerns for the funding of the journey, and the establishment of a convent in New France were resolved when she was introduced to Madeleine de la Peltrie on 19 February 1639. Marie recognized that this religiously devoted widow, the daughter of a fiscal officer, was the laywoman from her vision four years earlier. De la Peltrie’s contribution to the endeavour was met with strong opposition from her aristocratic family; to garner their support, de la Peltrie arranged a sham marriage with Christian Jean de Brenière. Madeleine’s new marital status gave her the legal authority to sign over the bulk of her estate to the Ursuline Order, thereby fully funding the mission. Following this, the Ursuline went to Paris, and signed legal contracts with the Company of One Hundred Associates, and the Jesuit Fathers, who were responsible for the colony’s political and spiritual life, respectively. The official royal charter sanctioning the establishment of the foundation was signed by Louis XII shortly thereafter.
On 4 May 1639, Marie de l’Incarnation and Madeleine de la Peltrie, set sail from Dieppe for Quebec on board the Saint Joseph. They were accompanied by a fellow aristocratic Ursuline Marie de Sanonières, the young commoner Charlotte Barré, three nurses, and two Jesuit Fathers.
Arrival
In August 1639 the group landed in Quebec City and established a convent in the lower town. When they began their first work at the foot of the mountain, Quebec was but a name. Hardly six houses stood on the site chosen by Champlain thirty-one years previously. She and her companions at first occupied a little house in the lower town (Basse-Ville). In 1642 the Ursulines moved to a permanent stone building in the upper town. The group managed to found the first school in what would become Canada, as well as the Ursuline Monastery of Quebec, which has been designated one of the National Historic Sites of Canada.
Early interactions with the native populations
Marie de l’Incarnation’s early interactions with Native populations were largely shaped by the constraints created by differing lifestyles, illnesses, and alliances. Indigenous divisions of manual and domestic labour by gender and age diverged significantly from European conceptions of masculine and feminine spheres of work. This made it difficult for Marie and the other Ursulines to educate young girls with methods developed in Europe.
With European colonization came an influx of illnesses. Smallpox outbreaks from the 1630s to the 1650s ravaged Native populations, leading them to believe that Jesuits and Ursulines were imparting disease through their religious practices, and paraphernalia. Fears that baptisms, holy icons and crosses were the source of all epidemics greatly limited the groups’ interactions, and strained Marie’s relationship with Natives in her first decades in New France.
The most volatile relationship Marie and the Ursulines faced revolved around the conflict pitting the French, Huron and other indigenous allies against the Iroquois. Iroquois hostility towards the Jesuit-allied Hurons shaped Marie’s negative view of the Five Nations. Iroquois military victories in the 1650s, and their dominance by the start of the next decade, brought Marie and the Ursulines close to despair. Their distress was heightened by a fire that destroyed their convent in 1650;[15] simultaneous political troubles in France caused European Ursulines to pressure their Canadian sisters to return home, adding to Marie and the Ursulines’ stresses, and fears. Such feelings of helplessness were quelled, however, when the convent was reconstructed with seemingly miraculous speed; a blessing attributed to the Virgin Mary.
Universalizing Impulses
A strong, universalizing impulse underscored Marie de l’Incarnation’s interactions, and activities in New France. Her perceptions of similarities between European Christians, and the potential converts in the New World were the upshots of a cloistered convent life, and largely non-existent experiences with other cultures;[18] such seclusion allowed for an over-simplification of her ambition to spread God’s word transnationally. According to Natalie Zemon Davis, the integrative approach towards Native interactions that developed from this mindset was dissimilar to the Jesuit’s methods of establishing relationships in New France. Jesuits, adopted Native roles in the presence of First Nations peoples, but were quick to shed these association when outside the confines of their settlements; this double life made any fully integrative experience, or universal mindset impossible.
Marie noticed that Native girls were in possession of commendable traits such as submissiveness, and conscientiousness, which would facilitate their adoption of Christian practices, and their commitment to a Christian marriage; the two pillars of a thorough, universalizing conversion.
Education
In the 17th century, a key pillar of education was religious education. Marie followed a strict orthodox teaching method she learnt during her time with the Ursulines in Tours. The system was based on basics of faith, French and Latin literature and civility. The basics of faith included catechism, prayers and hymns. The main objective of the Ursuline school was to educate young French girls and Natives to become good Christians. The young French girls paid one hundred and twenty livres to cover both their education and pension fees. At the time, the young Native girls did not have to pay for their education. The Ursuline’s encouraged the young Montagnais, Hurons and Algonquins to use the seminary as a resource. These girls were taught French mannerisms and were taught how to dress based on French culture. After their education, the young aboriginal students were encouraged to go back to their homes and share their teachings. By educating young girls from different tribes, francization was transmitted from daughter to mother. In her writings, Marie emphasized the fact that the Aboriginal students were treated the same way as the French students at the school. They allowed the girls to sing hymns in both French and their native languages. Many of the nuns created mother-like bonds with the First Nation students. However, there were some problems with the education system during the 17th century. Some students did not stay at the school long enough to receive a complete education. The Ursuline nuns did not have the authority to keep them if the girls want to leave. Another problem was limited economic resources. The school could only accept a limited number of students because of a lack of funds.
Death
Marie died of a liver illness on 30 April 1672. In the necrology report sent to the Ursulines of France, it was written: “The numerous and specific virtues and excellent qualities which shone through this dear deceased, make us firmly believe that she enjoys a high status in God’s glory.”
Works
In addition to her religious duties, Marie composed multiple works that reflected her experiences and observations during her time in the New World and the spiritual calling that led her there.
In relation to her work with the indigenous population, Marie learned Montagnais, Algonquin, Huron, and Iroquois, writing dictionaries and catechisms in each (none of which have survived to today), as well as in her native French. Marie also wrote two autobiographies, though her second Relation was destroyed in a fire at the convent while still in manuscript.
Her most significant writings, however, were the 8,000-20,000 letters she wrote to various acquaintances, the majority of which went to her son Claude. Despite being personal correspondence, some of her letters were circulated throughout France and appeared in The Jesuit Relation in love while she was still alive. Many of the remainder were then published by her son after her death. These letters constitute one of the sources for the history of the French colony from 1639 to 1671. Her collection of works discuss political, commercial, religious and interpersonal aspects of the colony and are helpful in the reconstruction and understanding of New France in the seventeenth century.
Canonization
Marie was declared venerable in 1874. She was then beatified by Pope John Paul II on 22 June 1980. She was canonized by Pope Francis on 2 April 2014. The Pontiff waived the requirement of two miracles for Marie and she was granted “equivalent canonization” alongside François de Laval, the first Bishop of Quebec.
Legacy
Marie of the Incarnation is a celebrated founder of the Ursuline Order in colonial New France. Her work with the Amerindians has been recognized by the Anglican Church of Canada and they celebrate her life with a feast day on 30 April. A number of Catholic schools have been named after her. At Laval University, in Québec City, there is the Centre d’Études Marie de l’Incarnation, that is a multi-disciplinary program pertaining to theology and religious practice.
Marie is recognized for her contribution to Canada with a statue that sits in front of the Québec parliament. The sculpture was designed by Joseph-Émile Brunet in 1965 and is located at the Basilica of SainteAnne de Beaupré.
In a dystopian 1984, Winston Smith endures a squalid existence in the totalitarian superstate of Oceania under the constant surveillance of the Thought Police. The story takes place in London, the capital city of the territory of Airstrip One (formerly "either England or Britain").
Winston works in a small office cubicle at the Ministry of Truth, rewriting history in accordance with the dictates of the Party and its supreme figurehead, Big Brother. A man haunted by painful memories and restless desires, Winston is an everyman who keeps a secret diary of his private thoughts, thus creating evidence of his thoughtcrime — the crime of independent thought, contrary to the dictates and aims of the Party.
His life takes a fatal turn when he is accosted by a fellow Outer Party worker — a mysterious, bold-looking girl named Julia — and they begin an illicit affair. Their first meeting takes place in the remote countryside where they exchange subversive ideas before having sex. Shortly after, Winston rents a room above a pawn shop (in the supposedly safe proletarian area) where they continue their liaison. Julia — a sensual, free-spirited young woman — procures contraband food and clothing on the black market, and for a brief few months they secretly meet and enjoy an idyllic life of relative freedom and contentment together.
It comes to an end one evening, with the sudden raid of the Thought Police. They are both arrested and it's revealed that there is a telescreen hidden behind a picture on the wall in their room, and that the proprietor of the pawn shop, Mr. Charrington, is a covert agent of the Thought Police. Winston and Julia are taken away to be detained, questioned and brutally "rehabilitated", separately. Winston is brought to the Ministry of Love, where O'Brien, a high-ranking member of the Inner Party whom Winston had previously believed to be a fellow thoughtcriminal and agent of the resistance movement led by the archenemy of the Party, Emmanuel Goldstein, systematically tortured him.
O'Brien instructs Winston about the state's true purpose and schools him in a kind of catechism on the principles of doublethink — the practice of holding two contradictory thoughts in the mind simultaneously. For his final rehabilitation, Winston is brought to Room 101, where O'Brien tells him he will be subjected to the "worst thing in the world", designed specifically around Smith's personal phobias. When confronted with this unbearable horror — which turns out to be a cage filled with wild rats — Winston's psychological resistance finally and irretrievably breaks down, and he hysterically repudiates his allegiance to Julia. Now completely subjugated and purged of any rebellious thoughts, impulses, or personal attachments, Winston is restored to physical health and released.
In the final scene, Winston returns to the Chestnut Tree Café, where he had previously seen the rehabilitated thoughtcriminals Jones, Aaronson and Rutherford (themselves once prominent but later disgraced members of the Inner Party) who have since been "vaporized" and rendered unpersons. While sitting at the chess table, Winston is approached by Julia, who was similarly "rehabilitated". They share a bottle of Victory Gin and impassively exchange a few words about how they have betrayed each other. After she leaves, Winston watches a broadcast of himself on the large telescreen confessing his "crimes" against the state and imploring forgiveness of the populace.
Upon hearing a news report declaring the Oceanian army's utter rout of the enemy (Eurasian)'s forces in North Africa, Winston looks at the still image of Big Brother that appears on the telescreen, then turns away and almost silently says "I love you" - a phrase that he and Julia repeatedly used during their relationship, indicating the possibility that he still loves Julia. However, he could also be declaring his love for Big Brother instead. The novel unambiguously ends with the words: "He loved Big Brother," whereas the movie seems to deliberately allow for either interpretation. Earlier, during Winston's conversation with Julia in the rented room, he stated that "if they can make me change my feelings, they can stop me from loving you, that would be real betrayal". In the final scene, the "real betrayal" has therefore either been committed or averted, depending on whether the "you" that Winston loves is Big Brother or Julia.
Archbishop Michael Jackson and several other participants from the Church of Ireland recently participated in the Porvoo Communion Theological Conference, ‘A Vision for Communion’, which took place on 8th October with a Meeting of the Porvoo Contact Group on the next day.
The following report was issued after the conference. The Porvoo Communion is a communion of Anglican and Lutheran Churches in Europe. More information on its work and fellowship is available at www.porvoocommunion.org
Representatives of the Churches of the Porvoo Communion participated in an on–line theological conference on Thursday 8th October. The Porvoo Contact Group then met on–line meeting the next day.
The theological conference, with the title ‘A Vision for Communion’, was originally planned to take place at Sigtuna, Sweden, but it was agreed in the summer to make it an on–line event because of the continuing Covid–19 pandemic. Participants joined from four different time zones across Europe, while one early riser from the USA also joined. It was divided into four sessions, combining two presentations in each session with group discussions and plenary feedback.
‘A Vision for Communion’ looked back to the theological vision behind the signing of the Porvoo Declaration in 1996, reviewed how that vision had been lived out subsequently in the Porvoo Communion of Churches, and considered current challenges and resources for addressing them.
The Revd Dr Tiit Pädam (Estonian Evangelical Lutheran Church) and Dame Mary Tanner (Church of England) offered reflections on the original vision for the Porvoo Communion, from the perspective of those who had been involved in laying its foundations. The lack of specification in the Porvoo Declaration on structures to embody the new relation of communion was noted: was this a weakness or a creative opportunity? While there were differences in thinking about ‘models’ of unity among those who drafted the Common Statement and Declaration, they had been able to come together in outlining a ‘portrait’ of the church’s unity that was recognizable to all. Breakthroughs in understanding had been possible because of the level of friendship and trust. A key dimension of the ‘portrait’ had been the integral relation between unity and mission. Conference participants were challenged on how the Porvoo Communion so far had contributed to fruitfulness in mission on the part of its member churches.
The next session focused on Porvoo as a living communion of churches since 1996. The Revd Anne Burghardt (Estonian Evangelical Lutheran Church) explored the terminology of ‘full communion’ and ‘visible communion’. She emphasized the exchange of gifts between churches as indispensable for a living communion, giving examples of how belonging to the Porvoo Communion had contributed to change and growth in her church in Estonia and encouraging other participants to consider what they might be able to say about their churches in this regard. Pater Fredrik Emanuelson OMI (Roman Catholic Diocese of Stockholm) drew on Roman Catholic sources to indicate ways in which the theology of church as communion could be deepened and renewed. He affirmed the relationship between mission and unity as expressed for instance in the Catechism, and also the need for continual conversion, individual, ecclesial, and ecumenical, in seeking for the unity of the church to be made visible, noting this included the ‘purification of memory’ (in the phrase of Pope John Paul II) in reflecting on our histories.
Emerging challenges for the Communion were highlighted in the third session. The Revd Dr Paddy McGlinchey (Church of Ireland) identified the importance of holding together ‘vertical’ with ‘horizontal’ dimensions when responding to our situation, urging shared confidence in what C. S. Lewis called ‘mere Christianity’ as the best basis for this. He also highlighted the challenges of diversity, including the growing presence in Western Europe of Christians formed in other cultural contexts, and suggested that a focus on beauty might be fruitful in seeking to share the gospel with younger generations. Dr Henrietta Grönlund (Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland) argued that both church and society are increasingly affected by ‘planetary urbanization’ that enables unprecedented levels of global connectedness, while also being associated with the power of global markets, social inequality, polarization, and the climate crisis. While she proposed that this situation highlighted the importance of the church’s message of justice, hope, meaning, and communion, she also acknowledged that various factors, including a pronounced individualism, had created a loss of religious memory that meant the church struggled to be heard and understood. An essential element of the response, she said, would need to be the weaving together of theological reflection with practical action and advocacy for justice.
In the final session, the Co–Chairs of the Porvoo Contact Group, Archbishop Michael Jackson and Bishop Matti Repo, led the participants in some reflection on what kind of proposals for the future of the Porvoo Communion might emerge from the theological thinking in which they had participated together. Themes that emerged from the discussion included:
– The continuing value of the rich ecclesiological vision underpinning the Porvoo Common Statement, and the need to keep filling in the ‘portrait’ of visible unity that it sketched out in such a way that the likeness of Christ is evident
– The possibility of developing further the structures or ‘instruments of communion’ that embody and enable the living out of the Commitments in the Porvoo Declaration
– The value of the image and of concrete practices of shared pilgrimage
– The place of diversity, difference, and disagreement within the communion of churches
– The need to find ways to engage a younger generation with the lived reality of the Porvoo Communion of Churches, including lay people, theologians and those preparing for ordained ministries
– The possibilities offered by on–line communication for addressing many of these points and extending and deepening relations between our churches.
The conference ended with an evening prayer where the Revd Jenny Sjögreen shared an experience of a new way of meeting each other in the era of Covid–19. She showed a picture of a gathering for children and adults in the Cathedral in Strängnäs where the exchange of gazes deepens encounter despite physical distance.
Participants
Church of England
Revd Canon Dr Jeremy Worthen
Revd Canon Dr Julie Gittoes
Revd Dr Anderson Jeremiah
Dame Mary Tanner
Revd Dr Callan Slipper
Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland
Rt Revd Dr Matti Repo
Professor Henrietta Grönlund
Revd Saara–Maria Jurva
Revd Dr Tomi Karttunen
Latvian Evangelical Lutheran Church Worldwide
Most Revd Lauma Zusevica
Revd Karlis Zols
Revd Zilgme Eglite
Church of Norway
Revd Einar Tjelle
Dr Sven Thore Kloster
Revd April M. Almaas
Very Revd Dr Gudmund Waaler
Estonian Evangelical Lutheran Church
Revd Dr Tauno Teder
Revd Dr Tiit Pädam
Revd Anne Burghardt
Church of Sweden
Rt Revd Dr Johan Dalman
Revd Dr Erik Berggren
Revd Jenny Sjögreen
Revd Emma Jansson
Evangelical Lutheran Church in Denmark
Revd Rikke Juul
Very Revd Thomas Reinholdt Rasmussen
Rev Dr Thorsten Rørbæk
Signe Randorff Larsen
Church of Ireland
Revd Suzanne Cousins
Canon Gillian Wharton
Revd Canon Helene Steed
Most Revd Dr Michael Jackson
Church in Wales
Revd Canon Dr Mark Clavier
Revd Maggie Thorne
Revd Dr Ainsley Griffiths
Angela Clarke
Lutheran Church in Great Britain
Rt Revd Tor B Jørgensen
Scottish Episcopal Church
Ms Miriam Weibye
Rev Canon John McLuckie
Lusitanian Church
Rt Revd Jorge Pina Cabral
Revd Sérgio Alves
Revd Abilene Fischer
Dr António Manuel Silva
Spanish Episcopal Church
Revd Dr Juan María Tellería
Revd Dr Duane Alexander Miller
Rt Revd Dr Carlos López Lozano
Evangelical Lutheran Church of Iceland
Revd Dr Sigurdur Arni Thordarson
Rev. Bjarni Thor Bjarnason
Evangelical Lutheran Church of Lithuania
No participants in the conference
Evangelical Lutheran Church of Latvia
Revd Ainars Rendors
Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession in Poland
Rt Revd Prof Marcin Hintz
Speakers (not part of other delegations)
OMI, Roman Catholic Diocese of Stockholm
Pater Fredrik Emanuelson
Church of Ireland Theological Institute
Revd Dr Patrick McGlinchey
"According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, “Every offense committed against justice and truth entails the duty of reparation, even if its author has been forgiven…This duty of reparation also concerns offenses against another’s reputation” (n. 2487). By offering our sacrifices to God we can make reparation for sin. When we are forgiven, we must still repair the damage that results from our sins. In addition, when we offer our sacrifices to God in reparation for the sins of others, our supplications become more efficacious for the conversion of sinners. In other words, as we increase our love for others through reparation, our prayer becomes more powerful in obtaining the graces of salvation for them. Reparation for the sins of others can be offered as an act of love, and yet also as an act restoring justice between God and others, it repairs the damage of sin. There are other closely related words for reparation such as atonement, expiation, propitiation, penance, restitution, amends, and satisfaction.
Our Lord Jesus Christ alone could pay an infinite price for our sins on the Cross. Yet since Our Lord suffered and died because of our sins (See Catechism of the Catholic Church, n. 598), reparation (satisfaction) to God for those sins is required on our part (See Mt. 12:58-59, Catechism of the Catholic Church, n. 1459). Still, the suffering of Our Lord meant that Our Lady would also suffer and be offended in her Immaculate Heart, because of our sins, while fulfilling her maternal role as Coredemptrix, Mediatrix of all graces, and Advocate. This injustice to the innocent Mother of God by our sins requires reparation. As St. Albert the Great, Doctor of the Church, said, “as we are under great obligation to Jesus for His Passion endured for our love, so we are under great obligation to Mary for what she suffered by compassion for our salvation in the death of her Son” (Sup. Miss. q. cl. Resp. ad q. cxlviii). Mary’s Heart continues to be offended, and this requires reparation also. Reparation is an essential part of devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. We cannot say we love our neighbors if we are unwilling to make amends for our offenses against them. Among our neighbors, after Jesus, we are most indebted to our Blessed Mother.
The Child Jesus said, “have compassion on the Heart of your Most Holy Mother covered with the thorns with which ungrateful men pierce it at every moment, and there is no one to remove them with an act of reparation” (December 10, 1925). Another word for “compassion,” is the word mercy. In fact, the practice of mercy begins with having mercy on the Sacred Heart of Jesus who beheld our every act during His Passion and is in need of being consoled. Jesus fervently seeks that we have mercy on the Heart of His Mother. So, have mercy on the Heart of your Mother. Having mercy on the Heart of our Mother is another excellent way of having mercy on the Heart of Jesus."
- from communalfirstsaturdays.org/
This statue of the Immaculate Heart is in St Casimir's church, Baltimore MD. Today, 1 Feb, is the first Saturday of the month.
IIn a dystopian 1984, Winston Smith endures a squalid existence in the totalitarian superstate of Oceania under the constant surveillance of the Thought Police. The story takes place in London, the capital city of the territory of Airstrip One (formerly "either England or Britain").
Winston works in a small office cubicle at the Ministry of Truth, rewriting history in accordance with the dictates of the Party and its supreme figurehead, Big Brother. A man haunted by painful memories and restless desires, Winston is an everyman who keeps a secret diary of his private thoughts, thus creating evidence of his thoughtcrime — the crime of independent thought, contrary to the dictates and aims of the Party.
His life takes a fatal turn when he is accosted by a fellow Outer Party worker — a mysterious, bold-looking girl named Julia — and they begin an illicit affair. Their first meeting takes place in the remote countryside where they exchange subversive ideas before having sex. Shortly after, Winston rents a room above a pawn shop (in the supposedly safe proletarian area) where they continue their liaison. Julia — a sensual, free-spirited young woman — procures contraband food and clothing on the black market, and for a brief few months they secretly meet and enjoy an idyllic life of relative freedom and contentment together.
It comes to an end one evening, with the sudden raid of the Thought Police. They are both arrested and it's revealed that there is a telescreen hidden behind a picture on the wall in their room, and that the proprietor of the pawn shop, Mr. Charrington, is a covert agent of the Thought Police. Winston and Julia are taken away to be detained, questioned and brutally "rehabilitated", separately. Winston is brought to the Ministry of Love, where O'Brien, a high-ranking member of the Inner Party whom Winston had previously believed to be a fellow thoughtcriminal and agent of the resistance movement led by the archenemy of the Party, Emmanuel Goldstein, systematically tortured him.
O'Brien instructs Winston about the state's true purpose and schools him in a kind of catechism on the principles of doublethink — the practice of holding two contradictory thoughts in the mind simultaneously. For his final rehabilitation, Winston is brought to Room 101, where O'Brien tells him he will be subjected to the "worst thing in the world", designed specifically around Smith's personal phobias. When confronted with this unbearable horror — which turns out to be a cage filled with wild rats — Winston's psychological resistance finally and irretrievably breaks down, and he hysterically repudiates his allegiance to Julia. Now completely subjugated and purged of any rebellious thoughts, impulses, or personal attachments, Winston is restored to physical health and released.
In the final scene, Winston returns to the Chestnut Tree Café, where he had previously seen the rehabilitated thoughtcriminals Jones, Aaronson and Rutherford (themselves once prominent but later disgraced members of the Inner Party) who have since been "vaporized" and rendered unpersons. While sitting at the chess table, Winston is approached by Julia, who was similarly "rehabilitated". They share a bottle of Victory Gin and impassively exchange a few words about how they have betrayed each other. After she leaves, Winston watches a broadcast of himself on the large telescreen confessing his "crimes" against the state and imploring forgiveness of the populace.
Upon hearing a news report declaring the Oceanian army's utter rout of the enemy (Eurasian)'s forces in North Africa, Winston looks at the still image of Big Brother that appears on the telescreen, then turns away and almost silently says "I love you" - a phrase that he and Julia repeatedly used during their relationship, indicating the possibility that he still loves Julia. However, he could also be declaring his love for Big Brother instead. The novel unambiguously ends with the words: "He loved Big Brother," whereas the movie seems to deliberately allow for either interpretation. Earlier, during Winston's conversation with Julia in the rented room, he stated that "if they can make me change my feelings, they can stop me from loving you, that would be real betrayal". In the final scene, the "real betrayal" has therefore either been committed or averted, depending on whether the "you" that Winston loves is Big Brother or Julia.
Engraving; 40 x 30.5 cm.
Francisco Benjamín López Toledo (b. July 17, 1940, Juchitán, Oaxaca) is a Mexican graphic artist. He studied at the Escuela de Bellas Artes de Oaxaca and the Centro Superior de Artes Aplicadas del Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes, Mexico, where he studied graphic arts with Guillermo Silva Santamaria.
His social and cultural concerns about his home state led to his participation in the establishment of an art library at the Instituto de Artes Gráficas de Oaxaca (IAGO),[1] as well as his involvement in the founding of the Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Oaxaca (MACO), the Patronato Pro-Defensa y Conservación del Patrimonio Cultural de Oaxaca, a library for the blind, a photographic center, and the Eduardo Mata Music Library. Toledo works in various media, including pottery, sculpture, weaving, graphic arts, and paintings. He has had exhibitions in Argentina, Brazil, Colombia, Ecuador, Spain, the United Kingdom, Belgium, France, Japan, Sweden, the United States, as well as other countries.
For his social and cultural commitment to the development of his home state, he received the Mexican National Prize (1998), the Prince Claus Award (2000) and the Right Livelihood Award (2005).
He is father of poet Natalia Toledo and artists Laureana Toledo and Dr Lakra.
A crash at sea ~ an Avenger bursts into flames on landing.
The Grumman TBF Avenger torpedo bomber was powered by a Wright R-2600-20 radial engine generating 1,900 hp giving a top speed of 275mph with a range of 1,000 miles. It had a crew of three - pilot, turret gunner and radioman/bombardier/ventral gunner.
The Royal Navy first received this aircraft in 1943 under the Lend-lease arrangement and HMS Victorious being the first carrier to operate them.
Simply because the Shia mother the beacon of Spirituality keeps the flame of Hussainiyat alive , taking her kids of every age to religious discourse called majlis , matams , and from a very early age this is absorbed by the child.
Majlis is the staple of Shia spirituality remembering the Battle of Karbala , really a battle between Good and Evil..
Sadly having shot Moharam all over the major cities of India the organizers build Sabils distribute Niyaz during the procession but you will hardly find mobile toilets for the women folk.. but despite all this the Shia mother the Shia ladies overcome these hurdles shortcomings only for the love of Imam Hussain.
This is my last Moharam segment of 292 pictures , shot in poor light conditions , shivering hands barefeet and my diabetic condition keeps the blood trickling from my head wounds .. but I documented what I saw the spirit of Shiasm.
And this is my tribute to the Shia mother ,,,my mother my childrens mother , and grandchildrens mother .
And our spirituality finally pays the ultimate tribute to Imam Hussains mother Princess Fatima who lost both her beloved children tragically Hassan and Hussain.
I dont glorify blood , but our history is written in our blood we Shias have been persecuted for 1400 years for simply stating tha yes here is Terrorism in Islam.. Muslims first love killing Muslims and than hen they have destroyed the Shias the Hazaras than they shoot murder rape other ethnicity .
The Talibans The ISIS the radicals all children of Yazid wont rest till they have destroyed the very core message of Islam Peace and Brotherhood .
I am an educated Muslim that is perhaps what saved me from the fires of this worldly Hell and come from good parentage .
And mind you we Shias are products of our surroundings our upbringings I refuse to be a narrow minded bigot Shia , my parents instilled humanity in me much before they consummated to create my human form.
I have been schooled by Christians , but never once did they ever encroach the parameters of my Soul.. I studied Catechism in my early years and my belief in my heritage my ancestry has remained intact.
Maybe my forefathers may have been Hindus , but I am happy being a Shia I d rather be a Shia than just a Muslim and not the Muslim of contemporary Wahabbi or Salafi mindset ,, and I would rather be a Hindu than a Wahabbi or a Salafi venom pouring Islamist .
These are my personal views , and I shoot Shiasm as Humanity as a vital part of Indias diverse religiosity .
I shoot with my time my camera , I dont do photography for money , photography merely is my poetry of Life.
I show you my backyard and if it is graphic bloody you dont need to see it at ll.
I dont need your criticism you have issues with Shiasm I am not a Mullah or a scholar , go discuss with them .. I shoot all religion I am a citizen of the world but yes Indian first .
I have shot over 60000 Hindu blogs , over 58000 Shia blogs and Sufi blogs .including Christian ethos .
I am a photoblogger my grammar being bad unstructured I use pictures as my storyboard.
I have Shiasm for those who are not Shias .. my foreigner friends , who might never ever venture into my world ,,my world is simplistic devoid of semantics polemics or other high powered philosophy ,, dont please judge me by what I shoot I definitely dont shoot porn..
I shoot reality as real as crystal as the tears in my eyes .. yes we Shias cry we mourn we bleed but we want to live in Peace ..Let Us Live ..
In a dystopian 1984, Winston Smith endures a squalid existence in the totalitarian superstate of Oceania under the constant surveillance of the Thought Police. The story takes place in London, the capital city of the territory of Airstrip One (formerly "either England or Britain").
Winston works in a small office cubicle at the Ministry of Truth, rewriting history in accordance with the dictates of the Party and its supreme figurehead, Big Brother. A man haunted by painful memories and restless desires, Winston is an everyman who keeps a secret diary of his private thoughts, thus creating evidence of his thoughtcrime — the crime of independent thought, contrary to the dictates and aims of the Party.
His life takes a fatal turn when he is accosted by a fellow Outer Party worker — a mysterious, bold-looking girl named Julia — and they begin an illicit affair. Their first meeting takes place in the remote countryside where they exchange subversive ideas before having sex. Shortly after, Winston rents a room above a pawn shop (in the supposedly safe proletarian area) where they continue their liaison. Julia — a sensual, free-spirited young woman — procures contraband food and clothing on the black market, and for a brief few months they secretly meet and enjoy an idyllic life of relative freedom and contentment together.
It comes to an end one evening, with the sudden raid of the Thought Police. They are both arrested and it's revealed that there is a telescreen hidden behind a picture on the wall in their room, and that the proprietor of the pawn shop, Mr. Charrington, is a covert agent of the Thought Police. Winston and Julia are taken away to be detained, questioned and brutally "rehabilitated", separately. Winston is brought to the Ministry of Love, where O'Brien, a high-ranking member of the Inner Party whom Winston had previously believed to be a fellow thoughtcriminal and agent of the resistance movement led by the archenemy of the Party, Emmanuel Goldstein, systematically tortured him.
O'Brien instructs Winston about the state's true purpose and schools him in a kind of catechism on the principles of doublethink — the practice of holding two contradictory thoughts in the mind simultaneously. For his final rehabilitation, Winston is brought to Room 101, where O'Brien tells him he will be subjected to the "worst thing in the world", designed specifically around Smith's personal phobias. When confronted with this unbearable horror — which turns out to be a cage filled with wild rats — Winston's psychological resistance finally and irretrievably breaks down, and he hysterically repudiates his allegiance to Julia. Now completely subjugated and purged of any rebellious thoughts, impulses, or personal attachments, Winston is restored to physical health and released.
In the final scene, Winston returns to the Chestnut Tree Café, where he had previously seen the rehabilitated thoughtcriminals Jones, Aaronson and Rutherford (themselves once prominent but later disgraced members of the Inner Party) who have since been "vaporized" and rendered unpersons. While sitting at the chess table, Winston is approached by Julia, who was similarly "rehabilitated". They share a bottle of Victory Gin and impassively exchange a few words about how they have betrayed each other. After she leaves, Winston watches a broadcast of himself on the large telescreen confessing his "crimes" against the state and imploring forgiveness of the populace.
Upon hearing a news report declaring the Oceanian army's utter rout of the enemy (Eurasian)'s forces in North Africa, Winston looks at the still image of Big Brother that appears on the telescreen, then turns away and almost silently says "I love you" - a phrase that he and Julia repeatedly used during their relationship, indicating the possibility that he still loves Julia. However, he could also be declaring his love for Big Brother instead. The novel unambiguously ends with the words: "He loved Big Brother," whereas the movie seems to deliberately allow for either interpretation. Earlier, during Winston's conversation with Julia in the rented room, he stated that "if they can make me change my feelings, they can stop me from loving you, that would be real betrayal". In the final scene, the "real betrayal" has therefore either been committed or averted, depending on whether the "you" that Winston loves is Big Brother or Julia.
In a dystopian 1984, Winston Smith endures a squalid existence in the totalitarian superstate of Oceania under the constant surveillance of the Thought Police. The story takes place in London, the capital city of the territory of Airstrip One (formerly "either England or Britain").
Winston works in a small office cubicle at the Ministry of Truth, rewriting history in accordance with the dictates of the Party and its supreme figurehead, Big Brother. A man haunted by painful memories and restless desires, Winston is an everyman who keeps a secret diary of his private thoughts, thus creating evidence of his thoughtcrime — the crime of independent thought, contrary to the dictates and aims of the Party.
His life takes a fatal turn when he is accosted by a fellow Outer Party worker — a mysterious, bold-looking girl named Julia — and they begin an illicit affair. Their first meeting takes place in the remote countryside where they exchange subversive ideas before having sex. Shortly after, Winston rents a room above a pawn shop (in the supposedly safe proletarian area) where they continue their liaison. Julia — a sensual, free-spirited young woman — procures contraband food and clothing on the black market, and for a brief few months they secretly meet and enjoy an idyllic life of relative freedom and contentment together.
It comes to an end one evening, with the sudden raid of the Thought Police. They are both arrested and it's revealed that there is a telescreen hidden behind a picture on the wall in their room, and that the proprietor of the pawn shop, Mr. Charrington, is a covert agent of the Thought Police. Winston and Julia are taken away to be detained, questioned and brutally "rehabilitated", separately. Winston is brought to the Ministry of Love, where O'Brien, a high-ranking member of the Inner Party whom Winston had previously believed to be a fellow thoughtcriminal and agent of the resistance movement led by the archenemy of the Party, Emmanuel Goldstein, systematically tortured him.
O'Brien instructs Winston about the state's true purpose and schools him in a kind of catechism on the principles of doublethink — the practice of holding two contradictory thoughts in the mind simultaneously. For his final rehabilitation, Winston is brought to Room 101, where O'Brien tells him he will be subjected to the "worst thing in the world", designed specifically around Smith's personal phobias. When confronted with this unbearable horror — which turns out to be a cage filled with wild rats — Winston's psychological resistance finally and irretrievably breaks down, and he hysterically repudiates his allegiance to Julia. Now completely subjugated and purged of any rebellious thoughts, impulses, or personal attachments, Winston is restored to physical health and released.
In the final scene, Winston returns to the Chestnut Tree Café, where he had previously seen the rehabilitated thoughtcriminals Jones, Aaronson and Rutherford (themselves once prominent but later disgraced members of the Inner Party) who have since been "vaporized" and rendered unpersons. While sitting at the chess table, Winston is approached by Julia, who was similarly "rehabilitated". They share a bottle of Victory Gin and impassively exchange a few words about how they have betrayed each other. After she leaves, Winston watches a broadcast of himself on the large telescreen confessing his "crimes" against the state and imploring forgiveness of the populace.
Upon hearing a news report declaring the Oceanian army's utter rout of the enemy (Eurasian)'s forces in North Africa, Winston looks at the still image of Big Brother that appears on the telescreen, then turns away and almost silently says "I love you" - a phrase that he and Julia repeatedly used during their relationship, indicating the possibility that he still loves Julia. However, he could also be declaring his love for Big Brother instead. The novel unambiguously ends with the words: "He loved Big Brother," whereas the movie seems to deliberately allow for either interpretation. Earlier, during Winston's conversation with Julia in the rented room, he stated that "if they can make me change my feelings, they can stop me from loving you, that would be real betrayal". In the final scene, the "real betrayal" has therefore either been committed or averted, depending on whether the "you" that Winston loves is Big Brother or Julia.
Canisius Church (Vienna)
(pictures you can see by clicking on the link at the end of page!)
Church seen from the street
View from the nave to the chancel
Apse wall, mosaic Christ with Apostles
Font with relief
The Canisius Church is a Roman Catholic parish church in the 9th District of Vienna Alsergrund.
History
On the 4th Austrian Catholic Day (4. Österreichischer Katholikentag) in 1896 made the Marianische Kaufmannskongregation (Marians Congregation of Businessmen9 the proposal, to set the Blessed Peter Canisius, chaplain and Episcopal Vicar of Vienna (1553 and 1554), to his 300th Obit a fitting monument. 1897 constituted the Canisius Church Building Association and placed itself under the auspices of Archduchess Maria Josepha, the mother of the future Emperor Charles I. On 31 July 1899, the feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola was begun with the construction of the temple and on 18 October 1903 it was inaugurated in the presence of Emperor Franz Joseph. In the short construction period of more than three years, the massive structure was completed. Since the time of the church building Peter Canisius, the first Jesuit of German language, not yet belonged to the blessed (canonized in 1925), the new church was not consecrated to his name. As title of ordination was therefore selected "The Suffering Savior in the Garden" and "The Painful Mother of God". A precious piece of rock from the Garden of Gethsemane was inserted into the foundation. Since 1939 the Vienna Canisius Church is the parish church for the parish of the same name .
Structure
The upper church was designed by the architect Gustav Ritter von Neumann. The church dominates with its two 85 meter high facade towers the entire Himmelpfortgrund. It is the fourth tallest church in Vienna. At the towers the colorful coat of arms of the most important patrons and donors are mounted. A wide staircase leads to the church porch, on the pediment in the center is a statue of Peter Canisius. In the niches to his side is to the left St. St. Ignatius and to the right Francis Xavier. This larger than life characters were created by Franz Barwig. The spacious interior, a long, high hall space, presents itself as a nave with a clear transept on both sides three chapel niches being left out. The decor is typical early Gothic forms.
The entire presbytery in the course of 1956 total renovation, designed by Ladislav Hruska in gray marble - with twelve steps - has been newly built. Instead of the former altar painting "Christ on the Mount of Olives" adorn the apse wall now the by pairs represented twelve apostles in mosaic design, with Henry Tahedl providing the templates. Erwin Klobassa designed the tabernacle, the two ambos stem of Josef Papst. A treasure is located in the ambulatory: In seven niches are displayed as wall paintings from the construction period, the stations of the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin in rich colors the ceiling vaults being ornamental and heraldic decorated - Maria sacrifices Jesus in the temple, Mary fled with Jesus to Egypt, Mary seeks Jesus in the temple, Mary encounters the cross-bearing Jesus, Mary stands beneath the Cross of Jesus, Mary holds the body of Jesus on the lap, Mary at the tomb of Jesus. The in many variants repetitive Habsburg house coat of arms refers to the number of donors from all lines of the imperial family. The two-storey choir in the nave also bears besides the Vienna and Lower Austria coat of arms the family emblem of the House of Habsburg-Lorraine, and in the vestibule announce two marble plaques in Latin and German of the dedication of the temple.
The glass windows stem from Hans Schock and show the Saints Stephen and Thomas, the St. Archangels Michael and St. Raphael, the St. Francis Xavier and St. Barbara, the St. Apostles Peter and Paul, the Saints Aloysius Gonzaga and Stanislaus Kostka, the St. Lawrence and St. Agnes of Rome and the Holy Family in the ambulatory.
Most of the tables of the side altars were adapted to the new style and overall sheathed in marble. The old altar of Heinrich Reinhart (1903 ) were preserved, as are the stained glass windows of the Tyrolean Hans Schock.
The niche paintings with column marble closers (Säulenriemchen - Säulenmensen) are on the left side to Hl. Joseph, to St. Guardian Angel and to St. Jude, on the right side to Hl. Ignatius, to St. Peter Canisius and to John of Nepomuk dedicated. The Holy Founder shows the motto of the Jesuits motto "OAMDG" (Omnia ad maiorem die gloriam/All for the greater glory of God). The patron saint of the church holds his catechism in hand, at his feet you can see Wiener Kids and in the background St. Stephen's Cathedral, the Infant Jesus of Prague is located in a shrine in front of the image of the patron saint of bridges (Nepomuk).
The spacious, in Romanesque forms built lower church (crypt) was set up as a chapel and meeting room for the various Marian Congregations and dedicated to the "Blessed Virgin Mary, the mistress and protectress of Sodalists". The altar, a foundation of the Lord Congregation at the University Church in the first District, sustains in the top part a large stone "Homage to the Sodalists before the Queen of Heaven" by Franz Barwig Elder. (1902).
Peter Canisius was canonized in 1925 and elevated to Doctor of the Church. Thus, the way was free to declare him by a decree of the Congregation of Rites to the main patron of the Canisius Church. In 1939, due to political considerations, the Canisius Church became parish church of "Parish Canisius church" bearing the same name.
In a dystopian 1984, Winston Smith endures a squalid existence in the totalitarian superstate of Oceania under the constant surveillance of the Thought Police. The story takes place in London, the capital city of the territory of Airstrip One (formerly "either England or Britain").
Winston works in a small office cubicle at the Ministry of Truth, rewriting history in accordance with the dictates of the Party and its supreme figurehead, Big Brother. A man haunted by painful memories and restless desires, Winston is an everyman who keeps a secret diary of his private thoughts, thus creating evidence of his thoughtcrime — the crime of independent thought, contrary to the dictates and aims of the Party.
His life takes a fatal turn when he is accosted by a fellow Outer Party worker — a mysterious, bold-looking girl named Julia — and they begin an illicit affair. Their first meeting takes place in the remote countryside where they exchange subversive ideas before having sex. Shortly after, Winston rents a room above a pawn shop (in the supposedly safe proletarian area) where they continue their liaison. Julia — a sensual, free-spirited young woman — procures contraband food and clothing on the black market, and for a brief few months they secretly meet and enjoy an idyllic life of relative freedom and contentment together.
It comes to an end one evening, with the sudden raid of the Thought Police. They are both arrested and it's revealed that there is a telescreen hidden behind a picture on the wall in their room, and that the proprietor of the pawn shop, Mr. Charrington, is a covert agent of the Thought Police. Winston and Julia are taken away to be detained, questioned and brutally "rehabilitated", separately. Winston is brought to the Ministry of Love, where O'Brien, a high-ranking member of the Inner Party whom Winston had previously believed to be a fellow thoughtcriminal and agent of the resistance movement led by the archenemy of the Party, Emmanuel Goldstein, systematically tortured him.
O'Brien instructs Winston about the state's true purpose and schools him in a kind of catechism on the principles of doublethink — the practice of holding two contradictory thoughts in the mind simultaneously. For his final rehabilitation, Winston is brought to Room 101, where O'Brien tells him he will be subjected to the "worst thing in the world", designed specifically around Smith's personal phobias. When confronted with this unbearable horror — which turns out to be a cage filled with wild rats — Winston's psychological resistance finally and irretrievably breaks down, and he hysterically repudiates his allegiance to Julia. Now completely subjugated and purged of any rebellious thoughts, impulses, or personal attachments, Winston is restored to physical health and released.
In the final scene, Winston returns to the Chestnut Tree Café, where he had previously seen the rehabilitated thoughtcriminals Jones, Aaronson and Rutherford (themselves once prominent but later disgraced members of the Inner Party) who have since been "vaporized" and rendered unpersons. While sitting at the chess table, Winston is approached by Julia, who was similarly "rehabilitated". They share a bottle of Victory Gin and impassively exchange a few words about how they have betrayed each other. After she leaves, Winston watches a broadcast of himself on the large telescreen confessing his "crimes" against the state and imploring forgiveness of the populace.
Upon hearing a news report declaring the Oceanian army's utter rout of the enemy (Eurasian)'s forces in North Africa, Winston looks at the still image of Big Brother that appears on the telescreen, then turns away and almost silently says "I love you" - a phrase that he and Julia repeatedly used during their relationship, indicating the possibility that he still loves Julia. However, he could also be declaring his love for Big Brother instead. The novel unambiguously ends with the words: "He loved Big Brother," whereas the movie seems to deliberately allow for either interpretation. Earlier, during Winston's conversation with Julia in the rented room, he stated that "if they can make me change my feelings, they can stop me from loving you, that would be real betrayal". In the final scene, the "real betrayal" has therefore either been committed or averted, depending on whether the "you" that Winston loves is Big Brother or Julia.
The sinking of the Tirpitz ~
Since 1942 there had been several attempts to sink the Tirpitz, finally on 12th November 1944 she was sunk by Royal Air Force bombers during 'Operation Catechism' by Lancaster's from RAF Bomber Command.
One of the most remote churches in the county, there is just a single building to be seen from the churchyard, which overlooks a verdant valley and rich woodland.
I have been to Crundale so many times, as there is an orchid-rich woodland along the bridleway beside the church, that it came as a surprise to see I had been inside just the once and took a few wide angle shots.
So, we returned on the last day of February, on leap day.
We surprised a churchwarden inside who was doing some tidying, and as he was leaving said he would turn the lights out, so I grabbed on shots down the nave with the light burning.
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Nave, chancel, north aisle and tower stand in a superb downland setting far from any village. The church is of Norman origin, as can be seen from the surviving window in the north wall of the nave. The semi-circular arches of the two-bay arcade are also late Norman. In the eighteenth century the fine reredos with a scrolly pediment and the altar rails were installed. Also in the chancel is a nice single sedile under a carved canopy. The stonework of the east window is entirely a nineteenth-century creation. The rood loft stairway survives. The narrow north aisle contains a handsome tomb chest to John Sprot (d. 1466), formed by an incised design on an alabaster slab removed here from the chancel. Sprot wears vestments and holds a chalice with the host displayed. His head rests on a pillow decorated with two little Bottonee crosses. It is a pity that it was not always mounted on a tomb chest as parts of the design have been worn away by the feet of centuries.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Crundale
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CRUNDAL.
LIES the next parish north-eastward from Wye. It appears by the register of Leeds abbey, that this parish was likewise once called Dromwæd, which name I conjecture to be the same now called Tremworth; in which register it is said, that Dromewida and Crundale is one and the same parish; Dromewida & Crundale sunt una & eadem villa; and in another place mention is made de Ecclesia de Dromwæd.
It is but a small parish, containing within it not more than twenty-four houses; it is an out of the way situation, having little or no traffic through it. The hills are very frequent in it, and exceedingly barren; the soil is in general chalk, covered with quantities of flints. The country here is very healthy; it is exceeding cold, and has a wild and dreary appearance, great part of it consists of open downs, most of which are uncultivated, those on the eastern side lying on the high ridge of hills adjoining to Wye downs. In the middle of the parish there is some coppice wood, and still more at the north-east boundaries of it.
There are two small streets or hamlets, one in the valley, called Danord, corruptly for Danewood-street; the other eastward from it, on the hills called Solestreet, which is the principal one, where there is a fair for toys and pedlary held yearly on Whit Monday. Close at the end of the former, in the valley, stands the parsonage, a genteel habitable dwelling, and on the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from it the church. About a mile westward, over the hill, is Little Ollantigh, belonging to Samuel-Elias Sawbridge, esq. situated on the downs, this is but a modern name, given to it when the late Mr. Jacob Sawbridge, by his brother's permission, resided at it. It lies among Mr. Sawbridge's park grounds, the land within the inclosure of it being made into gardens for the seat of Ollantigh, and the house for the habitation of the gardeners, and others. Beyond this the downs reach still further westwards, the whole of them being usually called Tremworth downs, from the manor of that name, the house of which is situated on the western bounds of this parish, in the bottom, almost close to the river Stour. The old mansion has been moated round, and many fragments of the arms of Kempe are still remaining both in the windows and carvework of the wainscot and timbers of the house. It had formerly a domestic chapel belonging to it, some of the walls of which are still standing.
¶ON TREMWORTH DOWN, near the summit of the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from Crundal, there is a hollow road, on each side of which there have been found many remains of a Roman Jepulture; the first discovery of which was made in the year 1703, in the waggon road, where, by the descent of the hill, it was worn hollow, and another was again made in 1713, by the then earl of Winchelsea, assisted by the Rev. Mr. Forster, rector of this parish, who were so successful as to meet with several skeletons, bones, skulls, &c. of persons full grown, as well as children, and many urns, pans, and bottles of lead, coloured and fine red earths in graves, the sides and ends of which were firm close chalk in its natural undisturbed state, the earth near the skeletons being stained with blueish spots of mould, occasioned no doubt by the corruption of the bodies.
But before this there had been taken up about the year 1678, a much larger urn than any found afterwards, in digging for land on the range of the hill eastward from Crundal, though in the parish of Godmersham. This was so large, that it might well have been thought one of those family urns, such as Morton describes in his History of Northamptonshire, from Meric Casaubon's notes on Antoninus, being big enough to hold half a bushel; but there was neither ashes nor bones in it, nor any thing else, but a shallow earthen pan, resembling that marked (3) below, with another little urn or pot standing in the midst of it, of fine red earth, and having some letters on it. It was covered with a flat, broad stone, and fenced round with a wall of flint, to defend it from external injuries. A plate is here given of several of the urns and vessels found as above-mentioned. (fn. 1)
The late Rev. Brian Faussett, of Heppington, in 1757 and 1759, dug very successfully at this place; and in the several graves which he opened, found numbers of urns, offuaries, pateræ, and lacrymatories, both of Roman earthen ware and of glass, of different sizes and colours, as red, lead-colour, dark-brown, and white, with the names of the different manufacturers on many of them. He found likewise several female trinkets, and a coin of the younger Faustina, wife of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, who died in 177 after Christ; and what was very singular, the skeletons, of which he found several, all lay with their feet to the south-west. From the circumstance of finding in some graves, urns with burnt ashes and bones in them, and in others skeletons, it appears that this had been a common burial-place for some length of time; and the finding of the above mentioned coin proves it, without doubt, to have been Roman. Mr. Faussett though it to have been the place of sepulture for some few families, or at most for only two or three of the neighbouring villages. In one place near the graves, from the quantity of black mould in one particular place, different from the rest of the soil near it, he imagined that spot might have been made use of as their ustrina, that is, where the funeral pile was placed to burn the bodies of the dead. All the above remains of Roman antiquity discovered by him are now in the valuable collection of his son Henry Godfrey Faussett, esq. of Heppington.
¶THE ROYAL MANOR OF WYE claims paramount over this parish, subordinate to which are THE MANORS OF CRUNDAL AND HADLOE, which, with the rest of this parish, were parcel of the honor of Clare, belonging to the noble family of Clare, earls of Gloucester, of whom they were held by the family of Handlou, afterwards written Hadloe, whose seat here was called by their name. John de Handlou possessed these manors in the reign of king Henry III. and died anno 11 Edward I. (fn. 2) possessed of large estates in this and the counties of Oxford, Buckingham, and Gloucester. His son, of the same name, in the 1st year of king Edward II. had a charter of free-warren in all his demesne lands at Crondale, Tremeworth, Vanne, and Ashenedene. He died in the 20th year of king Ed ward III. leaving Edmund his grandson his heir, who possessed his estates here; but he died s. p. in the 32d year of it, and his two sisters, Margaret, then married to John de Apulby, and Elizabeth to John de la Pole, became his heirs to all his estates here, and elsewhere, they sold these manors soon afterwards to Waretius de Valoins, who was before possessed of Tremworth, and other large estates in these parts. He died without male issue, and his two daughters became his coheirs, one of whom married Sir Francis Fogge, grandson of Otho, who came out of Lancashire into Kent, and the other, Thomas de Aldon, who, on the division of their estates, became possessed of these manors of Crundal and Hadloe; and in his descendants they continued till they were at length, by a female heir, carried in marriage to Heron, of Lincolnshire, who, in order to purchase other estates nearer to him in that county, passed away these manors, with the rest of her inheritance in this parish, to Sir Thomas Kempe, of Ollantigh, whose descendant Sir Thomas Kempe dying in 1607, without male issue, his four daughters became his coheirs, one of whom, Mary, married Sir Dudley Diggs, and on the partition of their inheritance, he became in her right entitled to them, and soon afterwards alienated them to Jeremy Gay, of London; from which name they some years afterwards were alienated to John Whitfield, gent. of Canterbury, whose second son Robert Whitfield, of Chartham, about the beginning of king George II.'s reign, passed them away by sale to Humphry Pudner, esq. of Canterbury, whose daughter, and at length sole heir Catherine, carried them in marriage to Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, in Ickham, who died possessed of these manors in 1757, leaving Catherine his wife surviving, who then became entitled to them. She died in 1785, upon which they came, by deed of settlement as well as by her will, to her only son and heir Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, who within a few months afterwards exchanged them, for Garwinton, in Littleborne, with Thomas Knight, esq. of Godmersham, whose son of the same name dying in 1794, s. p. gave them, together with the estate of Little Winchcombe, in this parish likewise, by will, to Edward Austen, esq. of Rowling-place, now of Godmersham, the eldest son of the Rev. George Austen, rector of Steventon, in Hampshire, who continues the present proprietor of them. A court baron is held for these manors.
Crundale-house is situated at a small distance southeastward from Danord-street. The scite of Hadloe manor is at a small distance still further southward. The house of which has been down time out of mind; but there was a baron on it, called Hadloe-barn, remaining till within these few years, which has been lately likewise pulled down.
Charities.
SIR THOMAS KEMPE, by deed in 1503, gave all the trees near or about the church-yard, as a succour and defence to the church. They stand in a piece of ground on the west side of it, which now belongs to the owner of Ollantigh.
THERE has been, time out of mind, two quit-rents paid, each of three-halfpence a years, one out of two acres of land, the other out of a tenement, both at Hessole-street, in the possession of Mr. Ayling; and another quit-rent, of 6d. per annum, out of two acres lying at Little Crundal, now in the possession of Mr. Laming. All three are constantly applied by the churchwardens to the repair of the church.
RICHARD FORSTER, rector of this parish, by will in 1728, gave a parochial library; also two acres of land, lying on the north side of Denwood-street, and a yearly rent charge of 40s. out of a tenement called Little Ripple, in this parish, and the land belonging to it in Crundal and Godmersham, and another yearly rent of 4l. out of a house and lands belonging to it, adjoining to the above street, in this parish, for the use of his successors, rectors of Crundal, for ever.
N. B. This last rent charge of 4l. per annum has been sold, by the consent of the ordinary, patron, and incumbent, and the money laid out in the purchasing of about six acres of land, lying adjoining to Denwood-street, as an augmentation of the glebe.
MR. FORSTER likewise gave a house and an acre of land, lying at Filchborow, in Crundal, and a field, called Harman Hewett, or the Barn-field, containing six acres, lying in Godmersham, to be applied by the minister of the parish and officers, to the teaching of poor children to read and say the Church Catechism, or else to the relief of poor widows and labourers, belonging to and being in this parish; so that yearly on Easter Tuesday 20s. be distributed among such persons.
THOMASINE PHILIPOT, Widow, by will in 1711, left a yearly pension of 10s. out of her house and lands at Sole-street, in Crundal, to the poor of this parish for ever, to be distributed among them by the churchwardens on Christmas-day.
JOHN FINCH, gent. of Limne, by will in 1705, gave 40s. without any deduction, upon Christmas-day for ever, payable out of his lands in Crundal and Godmersham, by the church wardens and overseers of Godmersham, to two of the eldest, poorest, and most industrious labouring men in the parish of Crundal, and who never received relief of this or any other parish, that is, 20s. to each of them yearly on Christmas-day for ever.
Crundal is within the ECCLISIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the discese of Canterbury, and deanry of Bridge.
The church, which stands on high grounds, is dedicated to St. Mary. It consists of one isle and one chancel, with a tower Steeple on the north side, having a small pointed low turret on the top. There are three bells in it. In the church-porch is a coffin-shaped stone, with a cross story on it, and round the edge there have been large French capital letters, of which three or four only remain. At the west end of the isle is a vauk, in which life Jacob Sawbridge, esq. and Anne his wife, who once resided at Little Ollantigh, in this parish, with two of their children, who died insants. In the chancel is a large white stone, with the figure and inscription on it, for John Sprot, once rector here; and there was in this church, a memorial for Judith Cerclere Mission, who fied from France on account of her religion, and, after many perils and dangers, arrived at London in 1685, obt. 1692. The altar piece was given by Sir Robert Filmer, bart. in 1704. In the church-yard, on the south side, is a tomb for the worthy and beneficent Richard Forster, rector here, and near it a handsome white marble one, for Mrs. Juliana Harvey and her husband William Harvey, M.D.
The rectory of Crundal was given by the family of Valoyns, in the reign of king Henry II. by the name of the church of Dromwide, to the prior and convent of Leeds, in perpetual alms; (fn. 4) but this never took effect, nor did they ever gain the possession of it, the heirs of the donor of it refusing to ratify this gift, so that there were continual controversies on that account. At length it was agreed, at the instance of archbishop Hubert, that Hamo de Valoyns should grant a rent of 25s. from his church of Dromwæd to the prior and canons for ever; saving to him and his heirs, the presentation to the church, so that the canons should not claim any further right to themselves, nor present to the parsonage in it, nor do any other act to bring his grant into doubt. All which the archbishop confirmed under his seal, by inspeximus. Notwithstanding this, the payment of the above pension seems to have been contested by the rectors of this church; but, on appeal to the pope in king Henry the IIId.'s reign, it was given in favour of the canons, to be paid yearly to them by the rectors of this church, nomine beneficii; and all these confirmations of the several archbishops were again confirmed by the prior and convent of Canterbury in 1278. After which this church remained in the patronage of the lords of Tremworth manor, with which it continued in like manner as has been already mentioned, till it came into the possession of the late Sir John Filmer, bart. who by will in 1796 devised it with that manor to his brother Sir Beversham Filmer, bart. the present proprietor of it. The above-mentioned pension of 25s. on the suppression of the priory of Leeds, came into the king's hands, who settled it on his new founded dean and chapter of Rochester, to whom it now continues to be paid.
This rectory is valued in the king's books at 11l. 10s. and the yearly tenths at 1l. 3s. 1d.
In 1588 it was valued at eighty pounds. Communicant one hundred and ninety-one. In 1640 it was valued at only sixty pounds. Communicants one hundred. In 1615 the rector and churchwardens testified, that there was one parcel of glebe, containing eight acres, adjoining to the close where the parsonage-house stood; and there is now six acres more of glebe lying near Denwood-street, purchased by the rector and church wardens, as has been mentioned before, in the list of charitable benefactions.
THERE IS a portion of corn tithes in this parish, arising from different fields and parts of others, containing in the whole about one hundred acres, called Towne-barn tithery, which was for many years in the family of Finch, earls of Winchelsea, and from them came to George Finch Hatton, esq. of Eastwell, the present owner of it.
¶There was a portion of tithes, called belonging to the tithes of Fannes, in this parish and Wye, belonging to the priory of Stratford Bow, which on the suppression in the reign of king Henry VIII. was granted to Sir Ralph Sadler, to hold in capite. This seems to have been the portion of tithes above-mentioned, rather than for it to have been belonging to Wye college, as has been generally supposed.
One of the most remote churches in the county, there is just a single building to be seen from the churchyard, which overlooks a verdant valley and rich woodland.
I have been to Crundale so many times, as there is an orchid-rich woodland along the bridleway beside the church, that it came as a surprise to see I had been inside just the once and took a few wide angle shots.
So, we returned on the last day of February, on leap day.
We surprised a churchwarden inside who was doing some tidying, and as he was leaving said he would turn the lights out, so I grabbed on shots down the nave with the light burning.
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Nave, chancel, north aisle and tower stand in a superb downland setting far from any village. The church is of Norman origin, as can be seen from the surviving window in the north wall of the nave. The semi-circular arches of the two-bay arcade are also late Norman. In the eighteenth century the fine reredos with a scrolly pediment and the altar rails were installed. Also in the chancel is a nice single sedile under a carved canopy. The stonework of the east window is entirely a nineteenth-century creation. The rood loft stairway survives. The narrow north aisle contains a handsome tomb chest to John Sprot (d. 1466), formed by an incised design on an alabaster slab removed here from the chancel. Sprot wears vestments and holds a chalice with the host displayed. His head rests on a pillow decorated with two little Bottonee crosses. It is a pity that it was not always mounted on a tomb chest as parts of the design have been worn away by the feet of centuries.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Crundale
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CRUNDAL.
LIES the next parish north-eastward from Wye. It appears by the register of Leeds abbey, that this parish was likewise once called Dromwæd, which name I conjecture to be the same now called Tremworth; in which register it is said, that Dromewida and Crundale is one and the same parish; Dromewida & Crundale sunt una & eadem villa; and in another place mention is made de Ecclesia de Dromwæd.
It is but a small parish, containing within it not more than twenty-four houses; it is an out of the way situation, having little or no traffic through it. The hills are very frequent in it, and exceedingly barren; the soil is in general chalk, covered with quantities of flints. The country here is very healthy; it is exceeding cold, and has a wild and dreary appearance, great part of it consists of open downs, most of which are uncultivated, those on the eastern side lying on the high ridge of hills adjoining to Wye downs. In the middle of the parish there is some coppice wood, and still more at the north-east boundaries of it.
There are two small streets or hamlets, one in the valley, called Danord, corruptly for Danewood-street; the other eastward from it, on the hills called Solestreet, which is the principal one, where there is a fair for toys and pedlary held yearly on Whit Monday. Close at the end of the former, in the valley, stands the parsonage, a genteel habitable dwelling, and on the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from it the church. About a mile westward, over the hill, is Little Ollantigh, belonging to Samuel-Elias Sawbridge, esq. situated on the downs, this is but a modern name, given to it when the late Mr. Jacob Sawbridge, by his brother's permission, resided at it. It lies among Mr. Sawbridge's park grounds, the land within the inclosure of it being made into gardens for the seat of Ollantigh, and the house for the habitation of the gardeners, and others. Beyond this the downs reach still further westwards, the whole of them being usually called Tremworth downs, from the manor of that name, the house of which is situated on the western bounds of this parish, in the bottom, almost close to the river Stour. The old mansion has been moated round, and many fragments of the arms of Kempe are still remaining both in the windows and carvework of the wainscot and timbers of the house. It had formerly a domestic chapel belonging to it, some of the walls of which are still standing.
¶ON TREMWORTH DOWN, near the summit of the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from Crundal, there is a hollow road, on each side of which there have been found many remains of a Roman Jepulture; the first discovery of which was made in the year 1703, in the waggon road, where, by the descent of the hill, it was worn hollow, and another was again made in 1713, by the then earl of Winchelsea, assisted by the Rev. Mr. Forster, rector of this parish, who were so successful as to meet with several skeletons, bones, skulls, &c. of persons full grown, as well as children, and many urns, pans, and bottles of lead, coloured and fine red earths in graves, the sides and ends of which were firm close chalk in its natural undisturbed state, the earth near the skeletons being stained with blueish spots of mould, occasioned no doubt by the corruption of the bodies.
But before this there had been taken up about the year 1678, a much larger urn than any found afterwards, in digging for land on the range of the hill eastward from Crundal, though in the parish of Godmersham. This was so large, that it might well have been thought one of those family urns, such as Morton describes in his History of Northamptonshire, from Meric Casaubon's notes on Antoninus, being big enough to hold half a bushel; but there was neither ashes nor bones in it, nor any thing else, but a shallow earthen pan, resembling that marked (3) below, with another little urn or pot standing in the midst of it, of fine red earth, and having some letters on it. It was covered with a flat, broad stone, and fenced round with a wall of flint, to defend it from external injuries. A plate is here given of several of the urns and vessels found as above-mentioned. (fn. 1)
The late Rev. Brian Faussett, of Heppington, in 1757 and 1759, dug very successfully at this place; and in the several graves which he opened, found numbers of urns, offuaries, pateræ, and lacrymatories, both of Roman earthen ware and of glass, of different sizes and colours, as red, lead-colour, dark-brown, and white, with the names of the different manufacturers on many of them. He found likewise several female trinkets, and a coin of the younger Faustina, wife of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, who died in 177 after Christ; and what was very singular, the skeletons, of which he found several, all lay with their feet to the south-west. From the circumstance of finding in some graves, urns with burnt ashes and bones in them, and in others skeletons, it appears that this had been a common burial-place for some length of time; and the finding of the above mentioned coin proves it, without doubt, to have been Roman. Mr. Faussett though it to have been the place of sepulture for some few families, or at most for only two or three of the neighbouring villages. In one place near the graves, from the quantity of black mould in one particular place, different from the rest of the soil near it, he imagined that spot might have been made use of as their ustrina, that is, where the funeral pile was placed to burn the bodies of the dead. All the above remains of Roman antiquity discovered by him are now in the valuable collection of his son Henry Godfrey Faussett, esq. of Heppington.
¶THE ROYAL MANOR OF WYE claims paramount over this parish, subordinate to which are THE MANORS OF CRUNDAL AND HADLOE, which, with the rest of this parish, were parcel of the honor of Clare, belonging to the noble family of Clare, earls of Gloucester, of whom they were held by the family of Handlou, afterwards written Hadloe, whose seat here was called by their name. John de Handlou possessed these manors in the reign of king Henry III. and died anno 11 Edward I. (fn. 2) possessed of large estates in this and the counties of Oxford, Buckingham, and Gloucester. His son, of the same name, in the 1st year of king Edward II. had a charter of free-warren in all his demesne lands at Crondale, Tremeworth, Vanne, and Ashenedene. He died in the 20th year of king Ed ward III. leaving Edmund his grandson his heir, who possessed his estates here; but he died s. p. in the 32d year of it, and his two sisters, Margaret, then married to John de Apulby, and Elizabeth to John de la Pole, became his heirs to all his estates here, and elsewhere, they sold these manors soon afterwards to Waretius de Valoins, who was before possessed of Tremworth, and other large estates in these parts. He died without male issue, and his two daughters became his coheirs, one of whom married Sir Francis Fogge, grandson of Otho, who came out of Lancashire into Kent, and the other, Thomas de Aldon, who, on the division of their estates, became possessed of these manors of Crundal and Hadloe; and in his descendants they continued till they were at length, by a female heir, carried in marriage to Heron, of Lincolnshire, who, in order to purchase other estates nearer to him in that county, passed away these manors, with the rest of her inheritance in this parish, to Sir Thomas Kempe, of Ollantigh, whose descendant Sir Thomas Kempe dying in 1607, without male issue, his four daughters became his coheirs, one of whom, Mary, married Sir Dudley Diggs, and on the partition of their inheritance, he became in her right entitled to them, and soon afterwards alienated them to Jeremy Gay, of London; from which name they some years afterwards were alienated to John Whitfield, gent. of Canterbury, whose second son Robert Whitfield, of Chartham, about the beginning of king George II.'s reign, passed them away by sale to Humphry Pudner, esq. of Canterbury, whose daughter, and at length sole heir Catherine, carried them in marriage to Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, in Ickham, who died possessed of these manors in 1757, leaving Catherine his wife surviving, who then became entitled to them. She died in 1785, upon which they came, by deed of settlement as well as by her will, to her only son and heir Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, who within a few months afterwards exchanged them, for Garwinton, in Littleborne, with Thomas Knight, esq. of Godmersham, whose son of the same name dying in 1794, s. p. gave them, together with the estate of Little Winchcombe, in this parish likewise, by will, to Edward Austen, esq. of Rowling-place, now of Godmersham, the eldest son of the Rev. George Austen, rector of Steventon, in Hampshire, who continues the present proprietor of them. A court baron is held for these manors.
Crundale-house is situated at a small distance southeastward from Danord-street. The scite of Hadloe manor is at a small distance still further southward. The house of which has been down time out of mind; but there was a baron on it, called Hadloe-barn, remaining till within these few years, which has been lately likewise pulled down.
Charities.
SIR THOMAS KEMPE, by deed in 1503, gave all the trees near or about the church-yard, as a succour and defence to the church. They stand in a piece of ground on the west side of it, which now belongs to the owner of Ollantigh.
THERE has been, time out of mind, two quit-rents paid, each of three-halfpence a years, one out of two acres of land, the other out of a tenement, both at Hessole-street, in the possession of Mr. Ayling; and another quit-rent, of 6d. per annum, out of two acres lying at Little Crundal, now in the possession of Mr. Laming. All three are constantly applied by the churchwardens to the repair of the church.
RICHARD FORSTER, rector of this parish, by will in 1728, gave a parochial library; also two acres of land, lying on the north side of Denwood-street, and a yearly rent charge of 40s. out of a tenement called Little Ripple, in this parish, and the land belonging to it in Crundal and Godmersham, and another yearly rent of 4l. out of a house and lands belonging to it, adjoining to the above street, in this parish, for the use of his successors, rectors of Crundal, for ever.
N. B. This last rent charge of 4l. per annum has been sold, by the consent of the ordinary, patron, and incumbent, and the money laid out in the purchasing of about six acres of land, lying adjoining to Denwood-street, as an augmentation of the glebe.
MR. FORSTER likewise gave a house and an acre of land, lying at Filchborow, in Crundal, and a field, called Harman Hewett, or the Barn-field, containing six acres, lying in Godmersham, to be applied by the minister of the parish and officers, to the teaching of poor children to read and say the Church Catechism, or else to the relief of poor widows and labourers, belonging to and being in this parish; so that yearly on Easter Tuesday 20s. be distributed among such persons.
THOMASINE PHILIPOT, Widow, by will in 1711, left a yearly pension of 10s. out of her house and lands at Sole-street, in Crundal, to the poor of this parish for ever, to be distributed among them by the churchwardens on Christmas-day.
JOHN FINCH, gent. of Limne, by will in 1705, gave 40s. without any deduction, upon Christmas-day for ever, payable out of his lands in Crundal and Godmersham, by the church wardens and overseers of Godmersham, to two of the eldest, poorest, and most industrious labouring men in the parish of Crundal, and who never received relief of this or any other parish, that is, 20s. to each of them yearly on Christmas-day for ever.
Crundal is within the ECCLISIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the discese of Canterbury, and deanry of Bridge.
The church, which stands on high grounds, is dedicated to St. Mary. It consists of one isle and one chancel, with a tower Steeple on the north side, having a small pointed low turret on the top. There are three bells in it. In the church-porch is a coffin-shaped stone, with a cross story on it, and round the edge there have been large French capital letters, of which three or four only remain. At the west end of the isle is a vauk, in which life Jacob Sawbridge, esq. and Anne his wife, who once resided at Little Ollantigh, in this parish, with two of their children, who died insants. In the chancel is a large white stone, with the figure and inscription on it, for John Sprot, once rector here; and there was in this church, a memorial for Judith Cerclere Mission, who fied from France on account of her religion, and, after many perils and dangers, arrived at London in 1685, obt. 1692. The altar piece was given by Sir Robert Filmer, bart. in 1704. In the church-yard, on the south side, is a tomb for the worthy and beneficent Richard Forster, rector here, and near it a handsome white marble one, for Mrs. Juliana Harvey and her husband William Harvey, M.D.
The rectory of Crundal was given by the family of Valoyns, in the reign of king Henry II. by the name of the church of Dromwide, to the prior and convent of Leeds, in perpetual alms; (fn. 4) but this never took effect, nor did they ever gain the possession of it, the heirs of the donor of it refusing to ratify this gift, so that there were continual controversies on that account. At length it was agreed, at the instance of archbishop Hubert, that Hamo de Valoyns should grant a rent of 25s. from his church of Dromwæd to the prior and canons for ever; saving to him and his heirs, the presentation to the church, so that the canons should not claim any further right to themselves, nor present to the parsonage in it, nor do any other act to bring his grant into doubt. All which the archbishop confirmed under his seal, by inspeximus. Notwithstanding this, the payment of the above pension seems to have been contested by the rectors of this church; but, on appeal to the pope in king Henry the IIId.'s reign, it was given in favour of the canons, to be paid yearly to them by the rectors of this church, nomine beneficii; and all these confirmations of the several archbishops were again confirmed by the prior and convent of Canterbury in 1278. After which this church remained in the patronage of the lords of Tremworth manor, with which it continued in like manner as has been already mentioned, till it came into the possession of the late Sir John Filmer, bart. who by will in 1796 devised it with that manor to his brother Sir Beversham Filmer, bart. the present proprietor of it. The above-mentioned pension of 25s. on the suppression of the priory of Leeds, came into the king's hands, who settled it on his new founded dean and chapter of Rochester, to whom it now continues to be paid.
This rectory is valued in the king's books at 11l. 10s. and the yearly tenths at 1l. 3s. 1d.
In 1588 it was valued at eighty pounds. Communicant one hundred and ninety-one. In 1640 it was valued at only sixty pounds. Communicants one hundred. In 1615 the rector and churchwardens testified, that there was one parcel of glebe, containing eight acres, adjoining to the close where the parsonage-house stood; and there is now six acres more of glebe lying near Denwood-street, purchased by the rector and church wardens, as has been mentioned before, in the list of charitable benefactions.
THERE IS a portion of corn tithes in this parish, arising from different fields and parts of others, containing in the whole about one hundred acres, called Towne-barn tithery, which was for many years in the family of Finch, earls of Winchelsea, and from them came to George Finch Hatton, esq. of Eastwell, the present owner of it.
¶There was a portion of tithes, called belonging to the tithes of Fannes, in this parish and Wye, belonging to the priory of Stratford Bow, which on the suppression in the reign of king Henry VIII. was granted to Sir Ralph Sadler, to hold in capite. This seems to have been the portion of tithes above-mentioned, rather than for it to have been belonging to Wye college, as has been generally supposed.
Holy Father, Saint John Bosco
Saint John Bosco, Father and Teacher of the Young, Pray for us!
Holy Relics of the Beloved Priest, Teacher and Writer, Saint John Bosco, Founder of the Society of St. Francis de Sales (Salesians of Don Bosco) and Patron Saint of Christian Apprentices, Editors, Publishers, Schoolchildren, Young People and Magicians. Given to me by a very special priest-friend.
Card: Ex Indumentis (Relic of his Cassock)
Theca: Ex Ossibus (Relic of his Bones)
"Dreams are very significant in my Life. It was with dreams that made me see my visions."
- St. John Bosco
Feast day: January 31
John Melchor Bosco was born on the 16th of August 1815, in Becchi, a hamlet belonging to the municipality of Castelnuovo d'Asti (today Castelnuovo Don Bosco). He came from a family of poor farmers. He lost his father, Francesco, at the age of two. His mother Margherita raised him with tenderness and energy. She taught him to cultivate the soil and to see God behind the beauty of the heavens, the abundance of the harvest, the rain which showered the vines. Mamma Margherita, in the church, learned to pray, and she taught her children to do the same. For John, to pray meant to speak with God on his knees on the kitchen pavement, to think of him while seated on the grass, gazing at the heavens. From his mother, John learned to see God also in other faces, those of the poor or those of the miserable ones who came knocking at the door of the house during winter, and to whom Margherita gave hot soup, mended shoes.
As a boy, John lived on a farm with his family doing the only thing they knew how, farming. Poverty and a lack of formal education in the home did not stop the growth of John Bosco as a person. His mother was for real, realizing the importance of God in life.
Getting a formal education was a constant struggle for John. The family finances being what they were, his brothers felt that he was wasting time, energy, and money and that it would be better for all if he stopped going to school and worked on the farm, earning money.
At the age of nine, Don Bosco had the first, great dream which marked his entire life. He saw a multitude of very poor boys who play and blaspheme. A Man of majestic appearance told him: With meekness and charity you will conquer these your friends; and a Lady just as majestic added: Make yourself humble, strong and robust. At the right time you will understand everything.
The years which followed were given direction by that dream. Son and mother saw in it the indication of a way of life. John tried immediately to do good for boys. When the visiting performers trumpet announced a local feast in the nearby hills, John went and sat in the front row to watch them. He studied the jugglers, tricks and the acrobats secrets. One Sunday evening, John gave his first performance in front of the kids from the neighbouring houses. He performed balancing miracles with pots and pans on the tip of his nose. Then he jumped up on a rope strung between two trees, and walked on it applauded by the young spectators. Before the grandiose conclusion, he repeated for them the sermon he heard at the morning Mass, and invited all to pray. The games and the Word of God began transforming his little friends, who willingly prayed in his company.
Little John understood that to do good for so many boys he needed to study and become a priest. But his brother Anthony, already 18 and an unlettered peasant, did not want to hear of this... He threw away his books and belted him.
On a cold morning of February 1827, John left his home and went to look for work as a farm-servant. He was only 12 but life at home was unbearable on account of the continuous quarrels with Anthony. He worked on the Moglia farm, near Moncucco, during three years. He led the cattle to pasture, milked the cows, put fresh hay in the manger, plowed the fields with the oxen. During the long nights of winter time and during summer, sitting under the trees while the cows stripped their leaves, he went back to his books and studies.
Anthony married three years later. John returned home and resumed his schooling, first at Castelnuovo and then at Chieri. To provide for his needs he learnt different trades: tailor, blacksmith, barman, and he even coached students after classes.
He was intelligent and brilliant, and the best students of the school flocked around him. He founded what was known as the Happy Club.
At 20 years of age, John Bosco took the most important decision of his life: he entered the Seminary. There followed six years of intense studies after which he was ordained priest.
On June 5, 1841, the archbishop of Turin ordained John Bosco a priest. Now Don Bosco (in Italy the family name of the priest is preceded by Don) was finally able to dedicate himself full time to the abandoned boys he had seen in his dreams. He went to look for them in the streets of Turin. On those first Sundays - says young Michael Rua, one of the first boys he met in those first months, Don Bosco went through the city to become aware of the moral conditions of the young. He was shocked. The outskirts of the city were zones of turmoil and revolution, places of desolation. Unemployed, sad and ready to do anything adolescents caused problems on the streets. Don Bosco could see them betting on street corners, their faces hard and determined, as if to get their way at any cost.
Near the city public market (Turin had a population of 117.000 inhabitants at that time) he discovered a real market of young workers. The part near Porta Palazzo, he wrote years later swarmed with peddlers, shoe polishers, stable-boys, vendors of any kind, errand boys: all poor people who barely eked out a living day after day. These boys who roamed the streets of Turin were the wicked effect of an event that was throwing the world into confusion: the industrial revolution. This started in England but it soon crossed the English Channel and made its way to the South. It would bring a sense of well-being unheard of in previous centuries, but it would be at a very high human cost: the labour question and the gathering of great number of families below the poverty line in the slums of the cities, coming in from the countryside in search of a better life.
But Don Bosco met the most dramatic situation when he entered the prisons. he wrote: "To see so many boys, from 12 to 18 years of age, all healthy, strong, intelligent, insect bitten, lacking spiritual and material food, was something that horrified me. In the face of such a situation he made his decision: I must by any available means prevent boys ending up here." There were 16 parishes in Turin. The parish priests were aware of the problem of the young but they were expecting them to go to the sacristies and to the Churches for the required catechism classes. They did not realize that because of population growth and migration to the city this way of doing things was inefficient. It was necessary to try new ways, to invent new schemes, to try another form of apostolate, meeting the boys in shops, offices, market places. Many young priests tried this.
Don Bosco met the first boy on December 8, 1841. He took care of him. Three days later there were nine, three months later twenty five and in summer eighty. They were pavers, stone-cutters, masons, plasterers who came from far away places, he recalled in his brief Memoirs.
Thus was born the youth centre (which he called oratorio). This was not simply a charitable institution, and its activities were not limited to Sundays. For Don Bosco the oratorio became his permanent occupation and he looked for jobs for the ones who were unemployed. He tried to obtain a fairer treatment for those who had jobs, he taught those willing to study after their days work.
But some of his boys did not have sleeping quarters and slept under bridges or in bleak public dormitories. Twice he tried to provide lodgings in his house. The first time they stole the blankets; the second they even emptied the hay-loft.
After the youngster from Valsesia, another six boys arrived that same year. In the first months money became a dramatic problem for Don Bosco. It would remain a problem throughout his life. His first benefactor was not a countess but his mother. Margaret (Mamma Margherita), a 59 year old poor peasant, had left her house at Becchi to become mother to these poor boys. To be able to put something on the table, for them to eat, she sold her wedding ring, her earrings and her necklace, things which she had kept jealously until then. The boys sheltered by Don Bosco numbered 36 in 1852, 115 in 1854, 470 in 1860 and 600 in 1861, 800 being the maximum some time later.
Some of these boys decided to do what Don Bosco was doing, that is, to spend their lives in the service of abandoned boys. And this was the origin of the Salesian Congregation. Among the first members we find Michael Rua, John Cagliero (who later became a Cardinal), John Baptist Francesia.
In the archives of the Salesian Congregation some extraordinary documents, are to be found, such as: a contract of apprenticeship on ordinary paper, dated November 1851; another one on stamped paper costing 40 cents, dated February 8, 1852; there are others with later dates. These are among the first contracts of apprenticeship to be found in Turin. All of them are signed by the employer, the apprentice and Don Bosco.
In those contracts Don Bosco touched on many sore spots. Some employers made servants and scullery-boys of the apprentices. Don Bosco obliged them to employ them only in their acknowledged trade. Employers used to beat the boys. Don Bosco required of them that corrections be made only through words. He cared for their health, he demanded that they be given rest on feast days, that they be given their annual holidays. But in spite of all the efforts and contracts, the situation of the apprentices of the time remained very difficult.
"In a short time, other priests joined him in his work and by 1852 they were caring for over 600 boys. John dealt with them by "using a minimum of restraint and discipline, lots of love, keeping careful watch over their development and encouraging them personally and through religion."
In autumn 1853 Don Bosco came to a decision. He begun shoemaking and tailoring shops in the Oratory at Valdocco. The shoemaking shop was located in a very narrow place near the bell-tower of the first church he had just finished building. There Don Bosco sat at a cobblers bench and in front of four little boys he pounded away at a leather sole. Then he taught them how to manage an awl and pack-thread.
John's preaching and writing, as well as the charitable support of wealthy and powerful patrons allowed for expansion of his work. The need for dependable assistants led to the founding of the society of St. Francis de Sales in 1859, and it continues to work today.
In the following years, Don Bosco, working almost to exhaustion, accomplished many imposing works. Besides the Salesians, he founded the Daughters of Mary Help of Christians and the Salesian Cooperators. He built the Sanctuary of Mary Help of Christians at Valdocco and founded 59 Salesian houses in six nations. He started the Salesian Missions in Latin America sending there Salesian priests, brothers and sisters. He published a series of popular books for ordinary Christians and for boys. He invented a System of Education founded on three values: Reason, Religion and Loving kindness. Very soon people saw in it an ideal system to educate the young. When somebody would tell Don Bosco the list of the works he performed, he would interrupt the person and immediately say: I have done nothing by myself. It is the Virgin Mary who has done everything. She had traced out his road in the famous dream he had when he was nine.
Don Bosco died on January 31, 1888, at dawn. To the Salesians who were keeping vigil around his bed he said in a whisper these last words: "Love each other as brothers. Do good to all and evil to none... Tell my boys that I wait for them all in Paradise. "
Don Bosco was Canonized on April 1, 1934, by Pope Pius XI. He was made a Patron Saint of Apprentices, Editors, Publishers, Schoolchildren, Youth and Magicians.
PRAYER
O glorious Saint John Bosco, who in order to lead young people to the feet of the divine Master and to mould them in the light of faith and Christian morality didst heroically sacrifice thyself to the very end of thy life and didst set up a proper religious Institute destined to endure and to bring to the farthest boundaries of the earth thy glorious work, obtain also for us from Our Lord a holy love for young people who are exposed to so many seductions in order that we may generously spend ourselves in supporting them against the snares of the devil, in keeping them safe from the dangers of the world, and in guiding them, pure and holy, in the path that leads to God. Amen.
Archbishop Emeritus of Saint Louis and Prefect of the Supreme Tribunal of the Apostolic Signatura Raymond L. Burke speaks to a crowd of the faithful outside the Fr. John A. Hardon, S.J., Archive and Guild building. Archbishop Burke initiated the cause for Beatification of Fr. John A. Hardon in St. Louis in 2005 while archbishop of the diocese, and he was in St. Louis to bless of the archive and guild which is located next to the Cathedral Basilica at 4440 Maryland Avenue. Fr. Hardon was recognized for his heroic efforts to catechize and to preach the truth ?in season and out of season.?
One of the most remote churches in the county, there is just a single building to be seen from the churchyard, which overlooks a verdant valley and rich woodland.
I have been to Crundale so many times, as there is an orchid-rich woodland along the bridleway beside the church, that it came as a surprise to see I had been inside just the once and took a few wide angle shots.
So, we returned on the last day of February, on leap day.
We surprised a churchwarden inside who was doing some tidying, and as he was leaving said he would turn the lights out, so I grabbed on shots down the nave with the light burning.
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Nave, chancel, north aisle and tower stand in a superb downland setting far from any village. The church is of Norman origin, as can be seen from the surviving window in the north wall of the nave. The semi-circular arches of the two-bay arcade are also late Norman. In the eighteenth century the fine reredos with a scrolly pediment and the altar rails were installed. Also in the chancel is a nice single sedile under a carved canopy. The stonework of the east window is entirely a nineteenth-century creation. The rood loft stairway survives. The narrow north aisle contains a handsome tomb chest to John Sprot (d. 1466), formed by an incised design on an alabaster slab removed here from the chancel. Sprot wears vestments and holds a chalice with the host displayed. His head rests on a pillow decorated with two little Bottonee crosses. It is a pity that it was not always mounted on a tomb chest as parts of the design have been worn away by the feet of centuries.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Crundale
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CRUNDAL.
LIES the next parish north-eastward from Wye. It appears by the register of Leeds abbey, that this parish was likewise once called Dromwæd, which name I conjecture to be the same now called Tremworth; in which register it is said, that Dromewida and Crundale is one and the same parish; Dromewida & Crundale sunt una & eadem villa; and in another place mention is made de Ecclesia de Dromwæd.
It is but a small parish, containing within it not more than twenty-four houses; it is an out of the way situation, having little or no traffic through it. The hills are very frequent in it, and exceedingly barren; the soil is in general chalk, covered with quantities of flints. The country here is very healthy; it is exceeding cold, and has a wild and dreary appearance, great part of it consists of open downs, most of which are uncultivated, those on the eastern side lying on the high ridge of hills adjoining to Wye downs. In the middle of the parish there is some coppice wood, and still more at the north-east boundaries of it.
There are two small streets or hamlets, one in the valley, called Danord, corruptly for Danewood-street; the other eastward from it, on the hills called Solestreet, which is the principal one, where there is a fair for toys and pedlary held yearly on Whit Monday. Close at the end of the former, in the valley, stands the parsonage, a genteel habitable dwelling, and on the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from it the church. About a mile westward, over the hill, is Little Ollantigh, belonging to Samuel-Elias Sawbridge, esq. situated on the downs, this is but a modern name, given to it when the late Mr. Jacob Sawbridge, by his brother's permission, resided at it. It lies among Mr. Sawbridge's park grounds, the land within the inclosure of it being made into gardens for the seat of Ollantigh, and the house for the habitation of the gardeners, and others. Beyond this the downs reach still further westwards, the whole of them being usually called Tremworth downs, from the manor of that name, the house of which is situated on the western bounds of this parish, in the bottom, almost close to the river Stour. The old mansion has been moated round, and many fragments of the arms of Kempe are still remaining both in the windows and carvework of the wainscot and timbers of the house. It had formerly a domestic chapel belonging to it, some of the walls of which are still standing.
¶ON TREMWORTH DOWN, near the summit of the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from Crundal, there is a hollow road, on each side of which there have been found many remains of a Roman Jepulture; the first discovery of which was made in the year 1703, in the waggon road, where, by the descent of the hill, it was worn hollow, and another was again made in 1713, by the then earl of Winchelsea, assisted by the Rev. Mr. Forster, rector of this parish, who were so successful as to meet with several skeletons, bones, skulls, &c. of persons full grown, as well as children, and many urns, pans, and bottles of lead, coloured and fine red earths in graves, the sides and ends of which were firm close chalk in its natural undisturbed state, the earth near the skeletons being stained with blueish spots of mould, occasioned no doubt by the corruption of the bodies.
But before this there had been taken up about the year 1678, a much larger urn than any found afterwards, in digging for land on the range of the hill eastward from Crundal, though in the parish of Godmersham. This was so large, that it might well have been thought one of those family urns, such as Morton describes in his History of Northamptonshire, from Meric Casaubon's notes on Antoninus, being big enough to hold half a bushel; but there was neither ashes nor bones in it, nor any thing else, but a shallow earthen pan, resembling that marked (3) below, with another little urn or pot standing in the midst of it, of fine red earth, and having some letters on it. It was covered with a flat, broad stone, and fenced round with a wall of flint, to defend it from external injuries. A plate is here given of several of the urns and vessels found as above-mentioned. (fn. 1)
The late Rev. Brian Faussett, of Heppington, in 1757 and 1759, dug very successfully at this place; and in the several graves which he opened, found numbers of urns, offuaries, pateræ, and lacrymatories, both of Roman earthen ware and of glass, of different sizes and colours, as red, lead-colour, dark-brown, and white, with the names of the different manufacturers on many of them. He found likewise several female trinkets, and a coin of the younger Faustina, wife of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, who died in 177 after Christ; and what was very singular, the skeletons, of which he found several, all lay with their feet to the south-west. From the circumstance of finding in some graves, urns with burnt ashes and bones in them, and in others skeletons, it appears that this had been a common burial-place for some length of time; and the finding of the above mentioned coin proves it, without doubt, to have been Roman. Mr. Faussett though it to have been the place of sepulture for some few families, or at most for only two or three of the neighbouring villages. In one place near the graves, from the quantity of black mould in one particular place, different from the rest of the soil near it, he imagined that spot might have been made use of as their ustrina, that is, where the funeral pile was placed to burn the bodies of the dead. All the above remains of Roman antiquity discovered by him are now in the valuable collection of his son Henry Godfrey Faussett, esq. of Heppington.
¶THE ROYAL MANOR OF WYE claims paramount over this parish, subordinate to which are THE MANORS OF CRUNDAL AND HADLOE, which, with the rest of this parish, were parcel of the honor of Clare, belonging to the noble family of Clare, earls of Gloucester, of whom they were held by the family of Handlou, afterwards written Hadloe, whose seat here was called by their name. John de Handlou possessed these manors in the reign of king Henry III. and died anno 11 Edward I. (fn. 2) possessed of large estates in this and the counties of Oxford, Buckingham, and Gloucester. His son, of the same name, in the 1st year of king Edward II. had a charter of free-warren in all his demesne lands at Crondale, Tremeworth, Vanne, and Ashenedene. He died in the 20th year of king Ed ward III. leaving Edmund his grandson his heir, who possessed his estates here; but he died s. p. in the 32d year of it, and his two sisters, Margaret, then married to John de Apulby, and Elizabeth to John de la Pole, became his heirs to all his estates here, and elsewhere, they sold these manors soon afterwards to Waretius de Valoins, who was before possessed of Tremworth, and other large estates in these parts. He died without male issue, and his two daughters became his coheirs, one of whom married Sir Francis Fogge, grandson of Otho, who came out of Lancashire into Kent, and the other, Thomas de Aldon, who, on the division of their estates, became possessed of these manors of Crundal and Hadloe; and in his descendants they continued till they were at length, by a female heir, carried in marriage to Heron, of Lincolnshire, who, in order to purchase other estates nearer to him in that county, passed away these manors, with the rest of her inheritance in this parish, to Sir Thomas Kempe, of Ollantigh, whose descendant Sir Thomas Kempe dying in 1607, without male issue, his four daughters became his coheirs, one of whom, Mary, married Sir Dudley Diggs, and on the partition of their inheritance, he became in her right entitled to them, and soon afterwards alienated them to Jeremy Gay, of London; from which name they some years afterwards were alienated to John Whitfield, gent. of Canterbury, whose second son Robert Whitfield, of Chartham, about the beginning of king George II.'s reign, passed them away by sale to Humphry Pudner, esq. of Canterbury, whose daughter, and at length sole heir Catherine, carried them in marriage to Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, in Ickham, who died possessed of these manors in 1757, leaving Catherine his wife surviving, who then became entitled to them. She died in 1785, upon which they came, by deed of settlement as well as by her will, to her only son and heir Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, who within a few months afterwards exchanged them, for Garwinton, in Littleborne, with Thomas Knight, esq. of Godmersham, whose son of the same name dying in 1794, s. p. gave them, together with the estate of Little Winchcombe, in this parish likewise, by will, to Edward Austen, esq. of Rowling-place, now of Godmersham, the eldest son of the Rev. George Austen, rector of Steventon, in Hampshire, who continues the present proprietor of them. A court baron is held for these manors.
Crundale-house is situated at a small distance southeastward from Danord-street. The scite of Hadloe manor is at a small distance still further southward. The house of which has been down time out of mind; but there was a baron on it, called Hadloe-barn, remaining till within these few years, which has been lately likewise pulled down.
Charities.
SIR THOMAS KEMPE, by deed in 1503, gave all the trees near or about the church-yard, as a succour and defence to the church. They stand in a piece of ground on the west side of it, which now belongs to the owner of Ollantigh.
THERE has been, time out of mind, two quit-rents paid, each of three-halfpence a years, one out of two acres of land, the other out of a tenement, both at Hessole-street, in the possession of Mr. Ayling; and another quit-rent, of 6d. per annum, out of two acres lying at Little Crundal, now in the possession of Mr. Laming. All three are constantly applied by the churchwardens to the repair of the church.
RICHARD FORSTER, rector of this parish, by will in 1728, gave a parochial library; also two acres of land, lying on the north side of Denwood-street, and a yearly rent charge of 40s. out of a tenement called Little Ripple, in this parish, and the land belonging to it in Crundal and Godmersham, and another yearly rent of 4l. out of a house and lands belonging to it, adjoining to the above street, in this parish, for the use of his successors, rectors of Crundal, for ever.
N. B. This last rent charge of 4l. per annum has been sold, by the consent of the ordinary, patron, and incumbent, and the money laid out in the purchasing of about six acres of land, lying adjoining to Denwood-street, as an augmentation of the glebe.
MR. FORSTER likewise gave a house and an acre of land, lying at Filchborow, in Crundal, and a field, called Harman Hewett, or the Barn-field, containing six acres, lying in Godmersham, to be applied by the minister of the parish and officers, to the teaching of poor children to read and say the Church Catechism, or else to the relief of poor widows and labourers, belonging to and being in this parish; so that yearly on Easter Tuesday 20s. be distributed among such persons.
THOMASINE PHILIPOT, Widow, by will in 1711, left a yearly pension of 10s. out of her house and lands at Sole-street, in Crundal, to the poor of this parish for ever, to be distributed among them by the churchwardens on Christmas-day.
JOHN FINCH, gent. of Limne, by will in 1705, gave 40s. without any deduction, upon Christmas-day for ever, payable out of his lands in Crundal and Godmersham, by the church wardens and overseers of Godmersham, to two of the eldest, poorest, and most industrious labouring men in the parish of Crundal, and who never received relief of this or any other parish, that is, 20s. to each of them yearly on Christmas-day for ever.
Crundal is within the ECCLISIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the discese of Canterbury, and deanry of Bridge.
The church, which stands on high grounds, is dedicated to St. Mary. It consists of one isle and one chancel, with a tower Steeple on the north side, having a small pointed low turret on the top. There are three bells in it. In the church-porch is a coffin-shaped stone, with a cross story on it, and round the edge there have been large French capital letters, of which three or four only remain. At the west end of the isle is a vauk, in which life Jacob Sawbridge, esq. and Anne his wife, who once resided at Little Ollantigh, in this parish, with two of their children, who died insants. In the chancel is a large white stone, with the figure and inscription on it, for John Sprot, once rector here; and there was in this church, a memorial for Judith Cerclere Mission, who fied from France on account of her religion, and, after many perils and dangers, arrived at London in 1685, obt. 1692. The altar piece was given by Sir Robert Filmer, bart. in 1704. In the church-yard, on the south side, is a tomb for the worthy and beneficent Richard Forster, rector here, and near it a handsome white marble one, for Mrs. Juliana Harvey and her husband William Harvey, M.D.
The rectory of Crundal was given by the family of Valoyns, in the reign of king Henry II. by the name of the church of Dromwide, to the prior and convent of Leeds, in perpetual alms; (fn. 4) but this never took effect, nor did they ever gain the possession of it, the heirs of the donor of it refusing to ratify this gift, so that there were continual controversies on that account. At length it was agreed, at the instance of archbishop Hubert, that Hamo de Valoyns should grant a rent of 25s. from his church of Dromwæd to the prior and canons for ever; saving to him and his heirs, the presentation to the church, so that the canons should not claim any further right to themselves, nor present to the parsonage in it, nor do any other act to bring his grant into doubt. All which the archbishop confirmed under his seal, by inspeximus. Notwithstanding this, the payment of the above pension seems to have been contested by the rectors of this church; but, on appeal to the pope in king Henry the IIId.'s reign, it was given in favour of the canons, to be paid yearly to them by the rectors of this church, nomine beneficii; and all these confirmations of the several archbishops were again confirmed by the prior and convent of Canterbury in 1278. After which this church remained in the patronage of the lords of Tremworth manor, with which it continued in like manner as has been already mentioned, till it came into the possession of the late Sir John Filmer, bart. who by will in 1796 devised it with that manor to his brother Sir Beversham Filmer, bart. the present proprietor of it. The above-mentioned pension of 25s. on the suppression of the priory of Leeds, came into the king's hands, who settled it on his new founded dean and chapter of Rochester, to whom it now continues to be paid.
This rectory is valued in the king's books at 11l. 10s. and the yearly tenths at 1l. 3s. 1d.
In 1588 it was valued at eighty pounds. Communicant one hundred and ninety-one. In 1640 it was valued at only sixty pounds. Communicants one hundred. In 1615 the rector and churchwardens testified, that there was one parcel of glebe, containing eight acres, adjoining to the close where the parsonage-house stood; and there is now six acres more of glebe lying near Denwood-street, purchased by the rector and church wardens, as has been mentioned before, in the list of charitable benefactions.
THERE IS a portion of corn tithes in this parish, arising from different fields and parts of others, containing in the whole about one hundred acres, called Towne-barn tithery, which was for many years in the family of Finch, earls of Winchelsea, and from them came to George Finch Hatton, esq. of Eastwell, the present owner of it.
¶There was a portion of tithes, called belonging to the tithes of Fannes, in this parish and Wye, belonging to the priory of Stratford Bow, which on the suppression in the reign of king Henry VIII. was granted to Sir Ralph Sadler, to hold in capite. This seems to have been the portion of tithes above-mentioned, rather than for it to have been belonging to Wye college, as has been generally supposed.
Online dating is exactly like applying for a job - the ten-percent rule applies... And with the Covid-19 p(l)andemic it adds another layer into the mix for 'vacci dating' preferences. So here is the 2022 version of 10 Percent Rule (for just a moment put aside the fact that a vast majority of dating site profiles are fakes):
- guy sends 10000000 introductory messages to 'women'
- 1000000 'women' might actually read them
- 100000 'women' might actually then go and explore the guy's profile
- 10000 are ok with the guy's covid vaccination status
- 1000 'women' might actually write back with a response
- 100 of those responses is positive showing genuine interest
- 10 of those women want to meet up for a date
- 1 date ends up becoming more.
So due to the Covid situation and the massively opposed views for and against the so-called 'vaccine' drugs for Covid-19 aka Sars-Cov-2, a guy has a 1 in 10 million (previously 1 in 1 million pre-covid) of actually finding 'the one'.
Pretty sad situation hey.
One of the most remote churches in the county, there is just a single building to be seen from the churchyard, which overlooks a verdant valley and rich woodland.
I have been to Crundale so many times, as there is an orchid-rich woodland along the bridleway beside the church, that it came as a surprise to see I had been inside just the once and took a few wide angle shots.
So, we returned on the last day of February, on leap day.
We surprised a churchwarden inside who was doing some tidying, and as he was leaving said he would turn the lights out, so I grabbed on shots down the nave with the light burning.
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Nave, chancel, north aisle and tower stand in a superb downland setting far from any village. The church is of Norman origin, as can be seen from the surviving window in the north wall of the nave. The semi-circular arches of the two-bay arcade are also late Norman. In the eighteenth century the fine reredos with a scrolly pediment and the altar rails were installed. Also in the chancel is a nice single sedile under a carved canopy. The stonework of the east window is entirely a nineteenth-century creation. The rood loft stairway survives. The narrow north aisle contains a handsome tomb chest to John Sprot (d. 1466), formed by an incised design on an alabaster slab removed here from the chancel. Sprot wears vestments and holds a chalice with the host displayed. His head rests on a pillow decorated with two little Bottonee crosses. It is a pity that it was not always mounted on a tomb chest as parts of the design have been worn away by the feet of centuries.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Crundale
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CRUNDAL.
LIES the next parish north-eastward from Wye. It appears by the register of Leeds abbey, that this parish was likewise once called Dromwæd, which name I conjecture to be the same now called Tremworth; in which register it is said, that Dromewida and Crundale is one and the same parish; Dromewida & Crundale sunt una & eadem villa; and in another place mention is made de Ecclesia de Dromwæd.
It is but a small parish, containing within it not more than twenty-four houses; it is an out of the way situation, having little or no traffic through it. The hills are very frequent in it, and exceedingly barren; the soil is in general chalk, covered with quantities of flints. The country here is very healthy; it is exceeding cold, and has a wild and dreary appearance, great part of it consists of open downs, most of which are uncultivated, those on the eastern side lying on the high ridge of hills adjoining to Wye downs. In the middle of the parish there is some coppice wood, and still more at the north-east boundaries of it.
There are two small streets or hamlets, one in the valley, called Danord, corruptly for Danewood-street; the other eastward from it, on the hills called Solestreet, which is the principal one, where there is a fair for toys and pedlary held yearly on Whit Monday. Close at the end of the former, in the valley, stands the parsonage, a genteel habitable dwelling, and on the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from it the church. About a mile westward, over the hill, is Little Ollantigh, belonging to Samuel-Elias Sawbridge, esq. situated on the downs, this is but a modern name, given to it when the late Mr. Jacob Sawbridge, by his brother's permission, resided at it. It lies among Mr. Sawbridge's park grounds, the land within the inclosure of it being made into gardens for the seat of Ollantigh, and the house for the habitation of the gardeners, and others. Beyond this the downs reach still further westwards, the whole of them being usually called Tremworth downs, from the manor of that name, the house of which is situated on the western bounds of this parish, in the bottom, almost close to the river Stour. The old mansion has been moated round, and many fragments of the arms of Kempe are still remaining both in the windows and carvework of the wainscot and timbers of the house. It had formerly a domestic chapel belonging to it, some of the walls of which are still standing.
¶ON TREMWORTH DOWN, near the summit of the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from Crundal, there is a hollow road, on each side of which there have been found many remains of a Roman Jepulture; the first discovery of which was made in the year 1703, in the waggon road, where, by the descent of the hill, it was worn hollow, and another was again made in 1713, by the then earl of Winchelsea, assisted by the Rev. Mr. Forster, rector of this parish, who were so successful as to meet with several skeletons, bones, skulls, &c. of persons full grown, as well as children, and many urns, pans, and bottles of lead, coloured and fine red earths in graves, the sides and ends of which were firm close chalk in its natural undisturbed state, the earth near the skeletons being stained with blueish spots of mould, occasioned no doubt by the corruption of the bodies.
But before this there had been taken up about the year 1678, a much larger urn than any found afterwards, in digging for land on the range of the hill eastward from Crundal, though in the parish of Godmersham. This was so large, that it might well have been thought one of those family urns, such as Morton describes in his History of Northamptonshire, from Meric Casaubon's notes on Antoninus, being big enough to hold half a bushel; but there was neither ashes nor bones in it, nor any thing else, but a shallow earthen pan, resembling that marked (3) below, with another little urn or pot standing in the midst of it, of fine red earth, and having some letters on it. It was covered with a flat, broad stone, and fenced round with a wall of flint, to defend it from external injuries. A plate is here given of several of the urns and vessels found as above-mentioned. (fn. 1)
The late Rev. Brian Faussett, of Heppington, in 1757 and 1759, dug very successfully at this place; and in the several graves which he opened, found numbers of urns, offuaries, pateræ, and lacrymatories, both of Roman earthen ware and of glass, of different sizes and colours, as red, lead-colour, dark-brown, and white, with the names of the different manufacturers on many of them. He found likewise several female trinkets, and a coin of the younger Faustina, wife of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, who died in 177 after Christ; and what was very singular, the skeletons, of which he found several, all lay with their feet to the south-west. From the circumstance of finding in some graves, urns with burnt ashes and bones in them, and in others skeletons, it appears that this had been a common burial-place for some length of time; and the finding of the above mentioned coin proves it, without doubt, to have been Roman. Mr. Faussett though it to have been the place of sepulture for some few families, or at most for only two or three of the neighbouring villages. In one place near the graves, from the quantity of black mould in one particular place, different from the rest of the soil near it, he imagined that spot might have been made use of as their ustrina, that is, where the funeral pile was placed to burn the bodies of the dead. All the above remains of Roman antiquity discovered by him are now in the valuable collection of his son Henry Godfrey Faussett, esq. of Heppington.
¶THE ROYAL MANOR OF WYE claims paramount over this parish, subordinate to which are THE MANORS OF CRUNDAL AND HADLOE, which, with the rest of this parish, were parcel of the honor of Clare, belonging to the noble family of Clare, earls of Gloucester, of whom they were held by the family of Handlou, afterwards written Hadloe, whose seat here was called by their name. John de Handlou possessed these manors in the reign of king Henry III. and died anno 11 Edward I. (fn. 2) possessed of large estates in this and the counties of Oxford, Buckingham, and Gloucester. His son, of the same name, in the 1st year of king Edward II. had a charter of free-warren in all his demesne lands at Crondale, Tremeworth, Vanne, and Ashenedene. He died in the 20th year of king Ed ward III. leaving Edmund his grandson his heir, who possessed his estates here; but he died s. p. in the 32d year of it, and his two sisters, Margaret, then married to John de Apulby, and Elizabeth to John de la Pole, became his heirs to all his estates here, and elsewhere, they sold these manors soon afterwards to Waretius de Valoins, who was before possessed of Tremworth, and other large estates in these parts. He died without male issue, and his two daughters became his coheirs, one of whom married Sir Francis Fogge, grandson of Otho, who came out of Lancashire into Kent, and the other, Thomas de Aldon, who, on the division of their estates, became possessed of these manors of Crundal and Hadloe; and in his descendants they continued till they were at length, by a female heir, carried in marriage to Heron, of Lincolnshire, who, in order to purchase other estates nearer to him in that county, passed away these manors, with the rest of her inheritance in this parish, to Sir Thomas Kempe, of Ollantigh, whose descendant Sir Thomas Kempe dying in 1607, without male issue, his four daughters became his coheirs, one of whom, Mary, married Sir Dudley Diggs, and on the partition of their inheritance, he became in her right entitled to them, and soon afterwards alienated them to Jeremy Gay, of London; from which name they some years afterwards were alienated to John Whitfield, gent. of Canterbury, whose second son Robert Whitfield, of Chartham, about the beginning of king George II.'s reign, passed them away by sale to Humphry Pudner, esq. of Canterbury, whose daughter, and at length sole heir Catherine, carried them in marriage to Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, in Ickham, who died possessed of these manors in 1757, leaving Catherine his wife surviving, who then became entitled to them. She died in 1785, upon which they came, by deed of settlement as well as by her will, to her only son and heir Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, who within a few months afterwards exchanged them, for Garwinton, in Littleborne, with Thomas Knight, esq. of Godmersham, whose son of the same name dying in 1794, s. p. gave them, together with the estate of Little Winchcombe, in this parish likewise, by will, to Edward Austen, esq. of Rowling-place, now of Godmersham, the eldest son of the Rev. George Austen, rector of Steventon, in Hampshire, who continues the present proprietor of them. A court baron is held for these manors.
Crundale-house is situated at a small distance southeastward from Danord-street. The scite of Hadloe manor is at a small distance still further southward. The house of which has been down time out of mind; but there was a baron on it, called Hadloe-barn, remaining till within these few years, which has been lately likewise pulled down.
Charities.
SIR THOMAS KEMPE, by deed in 1503, gave all the trees near or about the church-yard, as a succour and defence to the church. They stand in a piece of ground on the west side of it, which now belongs to the owner of Ollantigh.
THERE has been, time out of mind, two quit-rents paid, each of three-halfpence a years, one out of two acres of land, the other out of a tenement, both at Hessole-street, in the possession of Mr. Ayling; and another quit-rent, of 6d. per annum, out of two acres lying at Little Crundal, now in the possession of Mr. Laming. All three are constantly applied by the churchwardens to the repair of the church.
RICHARD FORSTER, rector of this parish, by will in 1728, gave a parochial library; also two acres of land, lying on the north side of Denwood-street, and a yearly rent charge of 40s. out of a tenement called Little Ripple, in this parish, and the land belonging to it in Crundal and Godmersham, and another yearly rent of 4l. out of a house and lands belonging to it, adjoining to the above street, in this parish, for the use of his successors, rectors of Crundal, for ever.
N. B. This last rent charge of 4l. per annum has been sold, by the consent of the ordinary, patron, and incumbent, and the money laid out in the purchasing of about six acres of land, lying adjoining to Denwood-street, as an augmentation of the glebe.
MR. FORSTER likewise gave a house and an acre of land, lying at Filchborow, in Crundal, and a field, called Harman Hewett, or the Barn-field, containing six acres, lying in Godmersham, to be applied by the minister of the parish and officers, to the teaching of poor children to read and say the Church Catechism, or else to the relief of poor widows and labourers, belonging to and being in this parish; so that yearly on Easter Tuesday 20s. be distributed among such persons.
THOMASINE PHILIPOT, Widow, by will in 1711, left a yearly pension of 10s. out of her house and lands at Sole-street, in Crundal, to the poor of this parish for ever, to be distributed among them by the churchwardens on Christmas-day.
JOHN FINCH, gent. of Limne, by will in 1705, gave 40s. without any deduction, upon Christmas-day for ever, payable out of his lands in Crundal and Godmersham, by the church wardens and overseers of Godmersham, to two of the eldest, poorest, and most industrious labouring men in the parish of Crundal, and who never received relief of this or any other parish, that is, 20s. to each of them yearly on Christmas-day for ever.
Crundal is within the ECCLISIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the discese of Canterbury, and deanry of Bridge.
The church, which stands on high grounds, is dedicated to St. Mary. It consists of one isle and one chancel, with a tower Steeple on the north side, having a small pointed low turret on the top. There are three bells in it. In the church-porch is a coffin-shaped stone, with a cross story on it, and round the edge there have been large French capital letters, of which three or four only remain. At the west end of the isle is a vauk, in which life Jacob Sawbridge, esq. and Anne his wife, who once resided at Little Ollantigh, in this parish, with two of their children, who died insants. In the chancel is a large white stone, with the figure and inscription on it, for John Sprot, once rector here; and there was in this church, a memorial for Judith Cerclere Mission, who fied from France on account of her religion, and, after many perils and dangers, arrived at London in 1685, obt. 1692. The altar piece was given by Sir Robert Filmer, bart. in 1704. In the church-yard, on the south side, is a tomb for the worthy and beneficent Richard Forster, rector here, and near it a handsome white marble one, for Mrs. Juliana Harvey and her husband William Harvey, M.D.
The rectory of Crundal was given by the family of Valoyns, in the reign of king Henry II. by the name of the church of Dromwide, to the prior and convent of Leeds, in perpetual alms; (fn. 4) but this never took effect, nor did they ever gain the possession of it, the heirs of the donor of it refusing to ratify this gift, so that there were continual controversies on that account. At length it was agreed, at the instance of archbishop Hubert, that Hamo de Valoyns should grant a rent of 25s. from his church of Dromwæd to the prior and canons for ever; saving to him and his heirs, the presentation to the church, so that the canons should not claim any further right to themselves, nor present to the parsonage in it, nor do any other act to bring his grant into doubt. All which the archbishop confirmed under his seal, by inspeximus. Notwithstanding this, the payment of the above pension seems to have been contested by the rectors of this church; but, on appeal to the pope in king Henry the IIId.'s reign, it was given in favour of the canons, to be paid yearly to them by the rectors of this church, nomine beneficii; and all these confirmations of the several archbishops were again confirmed by the prior and convent of Canterbury in 1278. After which this church remained in the patronage of the lords of Tremworth manor, with which it continued in like manner as has been already mentioned, till it came into the possession of the late Sir John Filmer, bart. who by will in 1796 devised it with that manor to his brother Sir Beversham Filmer, bart. the present proprietor of it. The above-mentioned pension of 25s. on the suppression of the priory of Leeds, came into the king's hands, who settled it on his new founded dean and chapter of Rochester, to whom it now continues to be paid.
This rectory is valued in the king's books at 11l. 10s. and the yearly tenths at 1l. 3s. 1d.
In 1588 it was valued at eighty pounds. Communicant one hundred and ninety-one. In 1640 it was valued at only sixty pounds. Communicants one hundred. In 1615 the rector and churchwardens testified, that there was one parcel of glebe, containing eight acres, adjoining to the close where the parsonage-house stood; and there is now six acres more of glebe lying near Denwood-street, purchased by the rector and church wardens, as has been mentioned before, in the list of charitable benefactions.
THERE IS a portion of corn tithes in this parish, arising from different fields and parts of others, containing in the whole about one hundred acres, called Towne-barn tithery, which was for many years in the family of Finch, earls of Winchelsea, and from them came to George Finch Hatton, esq. of Eastwell, the present owner of it.
¶There was a portion of tithes, called belonging to the tithes of Fannes, in this parish and Wye, belonging to the priory of Stratford Bow, which on the suppression in the reign of king Henry VIII. was granted to Sir Ralph Sadler, to hold in capite. This seems to have been the portion of tithes above-mentioned, rather than for it to have been belonging to Wye college, as has been generally supposed.
One of the most remote churches in the county, there is just a single building to be seen from the churchyard, which overlooks a verdant valley and rich woodland.
I have been to Crundale so many times, as there is an orchid-rich woodland along the bridleway beside the church, that it came as a surprise to see I had been inside just the once and took a few wide angle shots.
So, we returned on the last day of February, on leap day.
We surprised a churchwarden inside who was doing some tidying, and as he was leaving said he would turn the lights out, so I grabbed on shots down the nave with the light burning.
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Nave, chancel, north aisle and tower stand in a superb downland setting far from any village. The church is of Norman origin, as can be seen from the surviving window in the north wall of the nave. The semi-circular arches of the two-bay arcade are also late Norman. In the eighteenth century the fine reredos with a scrolly pediment and the altar rails were installed. Also in the chancel is a nice single sedile under a carved canopy. The stonework of the east window is entirely a nineteenth-century creation. The rood loft stairway survives. The narrow north aisle contains a handsome tomb chest to John Sprot (d. 1466), formed by an incised design on an alabaster slab removed here from the chancel. Sprot wears vestments and holds a chalice with the host displayed. His head rests on a pillow decorated with two little Bottonee crosses. It is a pity that it was not always mounted on a tomb chest as parts of the design have been worn away by the feet of centuries.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Crundale
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CRUNDAL.
LIES the next parish north-eastward from Wye. It appears by the register of Leeds abbey, that this parish was likewise once called Dromwæd, which name I conjecture to be the same now called Tremworth; in which register it is said, that Dromewida and Crundale is one and the same parish; Dromewida & Crundale sunt una & eadem villa; and in another place mention is made de Ecclesia de Dromwæd.
It is but a small parish, containing within it not more than twenty-four houses; it is an out of the way situation, having little or no traffic through it. The hills are very frequent in it, and exceedingly barren; the soil is in general chalk, covered with quantities of flints. The country here is very healthy; it is exceeding cold, and has a wild and dreary appearance, great part of it consists of open downs, most of which are uncultivated, those on the eastern side lying on the high ridge of hills adjoining to Wye downs. In the middle of the parish there is some coppice wood, and still more at the north-east boundaries of it.
There are two small streets or hamlets, one in the valley, called Danord, corruptly for Danewood-street; the other eastward from it, on the hills called Solestreet, which is the principal one, where there is a fair for toys and pedlary held yearly on Whit Monday. Close at the end of the former, in the valley, stands the parsonage, a genteel habitable dwelling, and on the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from it the church. About a mile westward, over the hill, is Little Ollantigh, belonging to Samuel-Elias Sawbridge, esq. situated on the downs, this is but a modern name, given to it when the late Mr. Jacob Sawbridge, by his brother's permission, resided at it. It lies among Mr. Sawbridge's park grounds, the land within the inclosure of it being made into gardens for the seat of Ollantigh, and the house for the habitation of the gardeners, and others. Beyond this the downs reach still further westwards, the whole of them being usually called Tremworth downs, from the manor of that name, the house of which is situated on the western bounds of this parish, in the bottom, almost close to the river Stour. The old mansion has been moated round, and many fragments of the arms of Kempe are still remaining both in the windows and carvework of the wainscot and timbers of the house. It had formerly a domestic chapel belonging to it, some of the walls of which are still standing.
¶ON TREMWORTH DOWN, near the summit of the hill, about three-quarters of a mile from Crundal, there is a hollow road, on each side of which there have been found many remains of a Roman Jepulture; the first discovery of which was made in the year 1703, in the waggon road, where, by the descent of the hill, it was worn hollow, and another was again made in 1713, by the then earl of Winchelsea, assisted by the Rev. Mr. Forster, rector of this parish, who were so successful as to meet with several skeletons, bones, skulls, &c. of persons full grown, as well as children, and many urns, pans, and bottles of lead, coloured and fine red earths in graves, the sides and ends of which were firm close chalk in its natural undisturbed state, the earth near the skeletons being stained with blueish spots of mould, occasioned no doubt by the corruption of the bodies.
But before this there had been taken up about the year 1678, a much larger urn than any found afterwards, in digging for land on the range of the hill eastward from Crundal, though in the parish of Godmersham. This was so large, that it might well have been thought one of those family urns, such as Morton describes in his History of Northamptonshire, from Meric Casaubon's notes on Antoninus, being big enough to hold half a bushel; but there was neither ashes nor bones in it, nor any thing else, but a shallow earthen pan, resembling that marked (3) below, with another little urn or pot standing in the midst of it, of fine red earth, and having some letters on it. It was covered with a flat, broad stone, and fenced round with a wall of flint, to defend it from external injuries. A plate is here given of several of the urns and vessels found as above-mentioned. (fn. 1)
The late Rev. Brian Faussett, of Heppington, in 1757 and 1759, dug very successfully at this place; and in the several graves which he opened, found numbers of urns, offuaries, pateræ, and lacrymatories, both of Roman earthen ware and of glass, of different sizes and colours, as red, lead-colour, dark-brown, and white, with the names of the different manufacturers on many of them. He found likewise several female trinkets, and a coin of the younger Faustina, wife of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, who died in 177 after Christ; and what was very singular, the skeletons, of which he found several, all lay with their feet to the south-west. From the circumstance of finding in some graves, urns with burnt ashes and bones in them, and in others skeletons, it appears that this had been a common burial-place for some length of time; and the finding of the above mentioned coin proves it, without doubt, to have been Roman. Mr. Faussett though it to have been the place of sepulture for some few families, or at most for only two or three of the neighbouring villages. In one place near the graves, from the quantity of black mould in one particular place, different from the rest of the soil near it, he imagined that spot might have been made use of as their ustrina, that is, where the funeral pile was placed to burn the bodies of the dead. All the above remains of Roman antiquity discovered by him are now in the valuable collection of his son Henry Godfrey Faussett, esq. of Heppington.
¶THE ROYAL MANOR OF WYE claims paramount over this parish, subordinate to which are THE MANORS OF CRUNDAL AND HADLOE, which, with the rest of this parish, were parcel of the honor of Clare, belonging to the noble family of Clare, earls of Gloucester, of whom they were held by the family of Handlou, afterwards written Hadloe, whose seat here was called by their name. John de Handlou possessed these manors in the reign of king Henry III. and died anno 11 Edward I. (fn. 2) possessed of large estates in this and the counties of Oxford, Buckingham, and Gloucester. His son, of the same name, in the 1st year of king Edward II. had a charter of free-warren in all his demesne lands at Crondale, Tremeworth, Vanne, and Ashenedene. He died in the 20th year of king Ed ward III. leaving Edmund his grandson his heir, who possessed his estates here; but he died s. p. in the 32d year of it, and his two sisters, Margaret, then married to John de Apulby, and Elizabeth to John de la Pole, became his heirs to all his estates here, and elsewhere, they sold these manors soon afterwards to Waretius de Valoins, who was before possessed of Tremworth, and other large estates in these parts. He died without male issue, and his two daughters became his coheirs, one of whom married Sir Francis Fogge, grandson of Otho, who came out of Lancashire into Kent, and the other, Thomas de Aldon, who, on the division of their estates, became possessed of these manors of Crundal and Hadloe; and in his descendants they continued till they were at length, by a female heir, carried in marriage to Heron, of Lincolnshire, who, in order to purchase other estates nearer to him in that county, passed away these manors, with the rest of her inheritance in this parish, to Sir Thomas Kempe, of Ollantigh, whose descendant Sir Thomas Kempe dying in 1607, without male issue, his four daughters became his coheirs, one of whom, Mary, married Sir Dudley Diggs, and on the partition of their inheritance, he became in her right entitled to them, and soon afterwards alienated them to Jeremy Gay, of London; from which name they some years afterwards were alienated to John Whitfield, gent. of Canterbury, whose second son Robert Whitfield, of Chartham, about the beginning of king George II.'s reign, passed them away by sale to Humphry Pudner, esq. of Canterbury, whose daughter, and at length sole heir Catherine, carried them in marriage to Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, in Ickham, who died possessed of these manors in 1757, leaving Catherine his wife surviving, who then became entitled to them. She died in 1785, upon which they came, by deed of settlement as well as by her will, to her only son and heir Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, who within a few months afterwards exchanged them, for Garwinton, in Littleborne, with Thomas Knight, esq. of Godmersham, whose son of the same name dying in 1794, s. p. gave them, together with the estate of Little Winchcombe, in this parish likewise, by will, to Edward Austen, esq. of Rowling-place, now of Godmersham, the eldest son of the Rev. George Austen, rector of Steventon, in Hampshire, who continues the present proprietor of them. A court baron is held for these manors.
Crundale-house is situated at a small distance southeastward from Danord-street. The scite of Hadloe manor is at a small distance still further southward. The house of which has been down time out of mind; but there was a baron on it, called Hadloe-barn, remaining till within these few years, which has been lately likewise pulled down.
Charities.
SIR THOMAS KEMPE, by deed in 1503, gave all the trees near or about the church-yard, as a succour and defence to the church. They stand in a piece of ground on the west side of it, which now belongs to the owner of Ollantigh.
THERE has been, time out of mind, two quit-rents paid, each of three-halfpence a years, one out of two acres of land, the other out of a tenement, both at Hessole-street, in the possession of Mr. Ayling; and another quit-rent, of 6d. per annum, out of two acres lying at Little Crundal, now in the possession of Mr. Laming. All three are constantly applied by the churchwardens to the repair of the church.
RICHARD FORSTER, rector of this parish, by will in 1728, gave a parochial library; also two acres of land, lying on the north side of Denwood-street, and a yearly rent charge of 40s. out of a tenement called Little Ripple, in this parish, and the land belonging to it in Crundal and Godmersham, and another yearly rent of 4l. out of a house and lands belonging to it, adjoining to the above street, in this parish, for the use of his successors, rectors of Crundal, for ever.
N. B. This last rent charge of 4l. per annum has been sold, by the consent of the ordinary, patron, and incumbent, and the money laid out in the purchasing of about six acres of land, lying adjoining to Denwood-street, as an augmentation of the glebe.
MR. FORSTER likewise gave a house and an acre of land, lying at Filchborow, in Crundal, and a field, called Harman Hewett, or the Barn-field, containing six acres, lying in Godmersham, to be applied by the minister of the parish and officers, to the teaching of poor children to read and say the Church Catechism, or else to the relief of poor widows and labourers, belonging to and being in this parish; so that yearly on Easter Tuesday 20s. be distributed among such persons.
THOMASINE PHILIPOT, Widow, by will in 1711, left a yearly pension of 10s. out of her house and lands at Sole-street, in Crundal, to the poor of this parish for ever, to be distributed among them by the churchwardens on Christmas-day.
JOHN FINCH, gent. of Limne, by will in 1705, gave 40s. without any deduction, upon Christmas-day for ever, payable out of his lands in Crundal and Godmersham, by the church wardens and overseers of Godmersham, to two of the eldest, poorest, and most industrious labouring men in the parish of Crundal, and who never received relief of this or any other parish, that is, 20s. to each of them yearly on Christmas-day for ever.
Crundal is within the ECCLISIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the discese of Canterbury, and deanry of Bridge.
The church, which stands on high grounds, is dedicated to St. Mary. It consists of one isle and one chancel, with a tower Steeple on the north side, having a small pointed low turret on the top. There are three bells in it. In the church-porch is a coffin-shaped stone, with a cross story on it, and round the edge there have been large French capital letters, of which three or four only remain. At the west end of the isle is a vauk, in which life Jacob Sawbridge, esq. and Anne his wife, who once resided at Little Ollantigh, in this parish, with two of their children, who died insants. In the chancel is a large white stone, with the figure and inscription on it, for John Sprot, once rector here; and there was in this church, a memorial for Judith Cerclere Mission, who fied from France on account of her religion, and, after many perils and dangers, arrived at London in 1685, obt. 1692. The altar piece was given by Sir Robert Filmer, bart. in 1704. In the church-yard, on the south side, is a tomb for the worthy and beneficent Richard Forster, rector here, and near it a handsome white marble one, for Mrs. Juliana Harvey and her husband William Harvey, M.D.
The rectory of Crundal was given by the family of Valoyns, in the reign of king Henry II. by the name of the church of Dromwide, to the prior and convent of Leeds, in perpetual alms; (fn. 4) but this never took effect, nor did they ever gain the possession of it, the heirs of the donor of it refusing to ratify this gift, so that there were continual controversies on that account. At length it was agreed, at the instance of archbishop Hubert, that Hamo de Valoyns should grant a rent of 25s. from his church of Dromwæd to the prior and canons for ever; saving to him and his heirs, the presentation to the church, so that the canons should not claim any further right to themselves, nor present to the parsonage in it, nor do any other act to bring his grant into doubt. All which the archbishop confirmed under his seal, by inspeximus. Notwithstanding this, the payment of the above pension seems to have been contested by the rectors of this church; but, on appeal to the pope in king Henry the IIId.'s reign, it was given in favour of the canons, to be paid yearly to them by the rectors of this church, nomine beneficii; and all these confirmations of the several archbishops were again confirmed by the prior and convent of Canterbury in 1278. After which this church remained in the patronage of the lords of Tremworth manor, with which it continued in like manner as has been already mentioned, till it came into the possession of the late Sir John Filmer, bart. who by will in 1796 devised it with that manor to his brother Sir Beversham Filmer, bart. the present proprietor of it. The above-mentioned pension of 25s. on the suppression of the priory of Leeds, came into the king's hands, who settled it on his new founded dean and chapter of Rochester, to whom it now continues to be paid.
This rectory is valued in the king's books at 11l. 10s. and the yearly tenths at 1l. 3s. 1d.
In 1588 it was valued at eighty pounds. Communicant one hundred and ninety-one. In 1640 it was valued at only sixty pounds. Communicants one hundred. In 1615 the rector and churchwardens testified, that there was one parcel of glebe, containing eight acres, adjoining to the close where the parsonage-house stood; and there is now six acres more of glebe lying near Denwood-street, purchased by the rector and church wardens, as has been mentioned before, in the list of charitable benefactions.
THERE IS a portion of corn tithes in this parish, arising from different fields and parts of others, containing in the whole about one hundred acres, called Towne-barn tithery, which was for many years in the family of Finch, earls of Winchelsea, and from them came to George Finch Hatton, esq. of Eastwell, the present owner of it.
¶There was a portion of tithes, called belonging to the tithes of Fannes, in this parish and Wye, belonging to the priory of Stratford Bow, which on the suppression in the reign of king Henry VIII. was granted to Sir Ralph Sadler, to hold in capite. This seems to have been the portion of tithes above-mentioned, rather than for it to have been belonging to Wye college, as has been generally supposed.
The catechism in pictures is an exceptional educational work in the teaching of the Catholic faith. The first edition in English dates from 1912, but it is a translated version of the original French edition of 1908. A nun signed this copy on July 31, 1938, 80 years ago! The catechism today is a very thick book that is not very convenient for reading. If this book is easy for a child to read, then you will enjoy seeing and reading its content. You can download it in full by accessing the album that contains all these images. Good reading !
Look in this album - 68 Texts with Pictures:
www.flickr.com/photos/7283075@N03/albums/72157663448176677
To see more editions, color images and PDF texts, visit this page:
Le Catéchisme en Images, 1908, réédition de 1978.
Catechism in Pictures, In English:
missiondesainteanne.wordpress.com/cat-4/
En français:
missiondesainteanne.wordpress.com/cat-5/
Un ouvrage pédagogique exceptionnel de la foi catholique plus que centenaire, et qui a marqué l'imaginaire de générations d'enfants à l'école.
Voir le lien suivant pour une meilleure présentation avec textes PDF et images en couleurs de la version anglaise ainsi que la version d'origine de 1908 et sa réédition de 1978 soit dans les teintes d'origine ou en teintes de gris pour la réimpression pour ceux et celles qui le voudraient.
Ilha da Madeira -
St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church believes that the Bible contains the special revelation of God to mankind, and that it is the only rule of faith and conduct for the guidance of its members. The Church reaffirms the freedom of conscience of its members in regards to the personal interpretation of the biblical text.
It also holds that the Westminster Confession of Faith of 1647 and its Larger and Shorter Catechisms contain a worthy and precise summary of the system of doctrines taught in Scripture.
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From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Angelus (Latin for "angel") is a Christian devotion in memory of the Incarnation. As with many Catholic prayers, the name Angelus is derived from its incipit: Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariæ ("... the Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary ...") and is practised by reciting as versicle and response three Biblical verses describing the mystery; alternating with the salutation "Hail Mary!" The Angelus exemplifies a species of prayers called the prayer of the devotee.[1][2]
The devotion was traditionally recited in Roman Catholic churches, convents, and monasteries three times daily: 6:00 am, noon, and 6:00 pm (many churches still follow the devotion, and some practice it at home). The devotion is also used by some Anglican and Lutheran churches.
The Angelus is usually accompanied by the ringing of the Angelus bell, which is a call to prayer and to spread good-will to everyone on Earth. The angel referred to in the prayer is Gabriel, a messenger of God who revealed to Mary that she would conceive a child to be born the Son of God. (Luke 1:26-38).
The Catholic Encyclopedia states that "The history of the Angelus is by no means easy to trace with confidence, and it is well to distinguish in this matter between what is certain and what is in some measure conjectural."[3] This is an old devotion which was already well established 700 years ago. The Angelus originated with the 11th-century monastic custom of reciting three Hail Marys during the evening bell. The first written documentation stems from Italian Franciscan monk Sinigardi di Arezzo (died 1282).[4] Franciscan monasteries in Italy document the use in 1263 and 1295. The Angelus is included in a Venetian Catechism from 1560.[4] The older usages seem to have commemorated the resurrection of Christ in the morning, his suffering at noon and the annunciation in the evening.[4] In 1269, St Bonaventure urged the faithful to adopt the custom of the Franciscans of saying three Hail Marys as the evening bell was rung.[5]
The Angelus (1857–59) by Jean-François Millet is one of the most celebrated and reproduced images of prayer. [1]
The Angelus is not identical to the "Turkish bell" ordered by Pope Calixtus III (1455–58) in 1456, who asked for a long midday bell ringing and prayer for protection against the Turkish invasions of his time. In his 1956 Apostolic Letter Dum Maerenti Animo about the persecution of the Church in Eastern Europe and China, Pope Pius XII recalls the 500th anniversary of the "Turkish bell", a prayer crusade ordered by his predecessors against the dangers from the East. He again asks the faithful throughout the World, to pray for the persecuted Church in the East during the mid-day Angelus.[6]
The custom of reciting it in the morning apparently grew from the monastic custom of saying three Hail Marys while a bell rang at Prime. The noon time custom apparently arose from the noon time commemoration of the Passion on Fridays. The institution of the Angelus is by some ascribed to Pope Urban II, by some to Pope John XXII for the year 1317.[5] The triple recitation is ascribed to Louis XI of France, who in 1472 ordered it to be said three times daily. The form of the prayer was standardized by the 17th century.[5]
The manner of ringing the Angelus—the triple stroke repeated three times, with a pause between each set of three (a total of nine strokes), sometimes followed by a longer peal as at curfew—seems to have been the norm from the very beginning. The 15th-century constitutions of Syon monastery dictate that the lay brother "shall toll the Ave bell nine strokes at three times, keeping the space of one Pater and Ave between each three tollings".[7]
In his Apostolic Letter Marialis Cultus (1974), Pope Paul VI encouraged the praying of the Angelus and confirmed its importance: it reminds us of the Paschal Mystery, in which recalling the Incarnation of the Son of God we pray that we may be led "through his passion and cross to the glory of his resurrection."[8]
[edit]Modern usage
Roman Catholic Mariology
A series of articles on
Marian Prayers
Alma Redemptoris Mater
Angelus
As a Child I Loved You
Ave Maris Stella
Ave Regina Caelorum
Fatima Prayers
Flos Carmeli
Hail Mary
Hail Mary of Gold
Immaculata prayer
Immaculate Mary
Magnificat
Mary Our Queen
Memorare
Regina Coeli
Rosary
Salve Regina
Stabat Mater
Sub tuum praesidium
Three Hail Marys
In most Franciscan and contemplative monasteries, the Angelus continues to be prayed three times a day.
In Germany, particular dioceses and their radio stations ring the Angelus. In addition, Roman Catholic churches (and some Protestant ones) ring the Angelus bell thrice daily.[7]
In Italy since Pope John XXIII, every Sunday at noon the pope has an address broadcast by public television (Rai Uno) and Eurovision Network. At the end of the address the Pope recites the Angelus.
In Ireland, the Angelus is broadcast every night before the main evening news at 6:00 pm on the main national TV channel, RTÉ One, and on the broadcaster's sister radio station, Radio 1, at noon and 6:00 pm. There is debate about whether to end the Angelus broadcasts on RTÉ since the broadcaster is funded and run by an authority appointed by the Irish Government. Consequently, the practice may constitute state support of one faith over others.
The Angelus is broadcast daily on radio in the city of Monterrey, Mexico at 6:00 am, noon, and 6:00 pm.
In the Philippines, radio and television stations run by the Catholic Church and some religious orders broadcast the Angelus at 6:00 am, noon, and 6:00 pm. The devotion is also broadcast over the public address system at noon and 6:00 pm in some shopping malls, and in many Catholic educational institutions mostly at noon on schooldays (some only ring bells at 6 p.m.).
In the United States and Canada, some Catholic radio stations run by laity broadcast the Angelus daily. American Trappist monasteries and convents often combine the Angelus with midday prayers or Vespers and prayed together in the Church.
It is common practice that during the recital of the Angelus prayer, for the lines "And the Word was made flesh/And dwelt among us", those reciting the prayer bow or genuflect. Either of these actions draws attention to the moment of the Incarnation of Christ into human flesh.
[edit]Angelus bell
The Angelus, in all its stages of development, was closely associated with the ringing of a church bell. The bell is still rung in some English country churches and has often been mistaken for, and alleged to be a remnant of, the curfew bell. The Angelus is replaced by Regina Coeli during Eastertide, and is not said on Good Friday or Holy Saturday.
Where the town bell and the bells of the principal church or monastery were distinct, the curfew was generally rung upon the town bell. Where the church bell served for both purposes, the Ave and the curfew were probably rung upon the same bell at different hours.
The ringing of the Angelus in the 14th century and even in the 13th century must have been very general.[citation needed] The number of bells belonging to these two centuries which still survive is relatively low, but a considerable proportion bear inscriptions which suggest that they were originally intended to serve as Ave bells. Many bear the words Ave Maria; or, as in the case of a bell at Helfta, near Eisleben, in Germany, dated 1234, the whole sentence: Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.
Bells inscribed with Ave Maria are also numerous in England, but there the Angelus bells seem in a very large number of instances to have been dedicated to St Gabriel, the angel mentioned in the prayer (Luke 1:26-27). In the Diocese of Lincoln alone there are nineteen surviving mediaeval bells bearing the name of Gabriel, while only six bear the name of Michael, a much more popular patron in other respects.
In France, the Ave Maria seems to have been the ordinary label for Angelus bells; but in Germany the most common inscription of all, even in the case of many bells of the 13th century, the words O Rex Gloriæ Veni Cum Pace ("O King of Glory, Come with Peace"). In Germany, the Netherlands, and in some parts of France, the Angelus bell was regularly known as the Peace bell, and pro pace schlagen (to toll for peace) was a phrase popularly used for ringing the Angelus.
In the Philippines, the ringing of church bells is still done for the Angelus every 6:00 pm. In the past, Filipino families at the sound of the bell would kneel before their home altars and pray the Angelus. The rite is called the orasyón, from the Spanish oracion, (prayer/litany/recitation), and children playing outside must come home before the family prays the Angelus. In traditional Spanish-Filipino families, the Angelus is recited in Spanish.
The Irish national broadcaster Raidió Teilifís Éireann airs the Angelus bells at noon and 6:00 pm every day on the national radio station RTÉ Radio 1 and at 6:00 pm on the national television station RTÉ One. This consists of a bell ringing for a minute, accompanied by images of people pausing in contemplation (filmed in North Kildare) in the television version. Foggy Dew, an Irish rebel ballad commemorating the Easter Rising, has the line "the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell rang out through the foggy dew."
With regard to the manner of ringing the Angelus, it seems sufficient to note that the triple stroke repeated three times with a pause between seems to have been adopted from the very beginning.
Masonic mosaic pavement and Masonic indented skirting.
www.kilwinning565.com/app/download/866207004/Five-pointed...
www.masonicforum.ro/?cmd=displaystory&story_id=73&....
The Mosaic Pavement
by GABRIEL VASILE OLTEAN
Expert Inspector of NGLR for Western Region; Past Worshipful Master, ZAMOLXIS Lodge, no. 182, Deva
"The interior decoration of a masonic lodge comprises ornaments, accessories and insignia. The ornaments are: the mosaic on the floor - respresenting spirt and matter, the shining star and the laced edge, which remind us always the first of the presence of God and the second of the protective wall" - cites Charles W Leadbeater from the ritual of mixed masonry in his work "Freemasonry - Rites and Initiations."
In the center of the Temple, on the ground, there is a rectangular floor, with black and white tiles, called the mosaic pavement (theoretically, cubes seen perspectivally), where a relgaion obtains between the sides, either 2:1 (the long square) or 1.618.../1 (the golden number), thus coming up with a surface proportional to the total area of the Lodge. Thus we see that practically the moasica, placed in the center of the Lodge is a microcosmic representation of the whole of creation and is by itself a sacred central area - whence the interdiction to ever step on the mosaic when the work of the Lodge is underway. The pavement symbolizes the indisociable operative complementarity of the two cosmic principles: the initiate must know how no longer let himself be dominated by the confrontation between positive and negative forces, to know (it is indispensable) how to use it, to master it so as to work constructively.
In Ancient Egypt, the mosaic was never stepped on except by a candidate and the masters of ceremony, and only at precise moments (by the Past Worshipful Master for the fulfilment of his tasks, by the First Expert when he took the light of the sacred fire, or by the sexton when he spread frankincense on the altar of the Temple. An extremely important aspect of the mosaic pavement is that, being placed in the middle of the Temple, framed by the three colonettes (which represent the Worshipful Master, the Senior and Junior Wardens), must be avoided by walking in a square, in a symbolic sense. The current of energy cross the floor, some along the length, some along the width, in lines that remind of the warp of a canvas.
Upon opening the work, the Trestle Board is depicted on this pavement, which varies with the first three degrees. The mosaic pavement signifies different things according to the traditional mode of work in the lodge, or the masonic rite employed.
The French Rite specifies that the pavement adorned the threshold of the geat porch of the Temple and showed that this is one of the ornaments of the Lodge, being the emblem of the intimate union among masons. Here it was explained to the Apprentice that he "could not stand on the mosaic pavement to contemplate the interior of the edifice". This started above from the seventh step, as we can well conclude by an attentive research of the Trestle Boards of the first two degrees.
The Rectified Scottish Rite speaks too little of this pavement, noting that "the mosaic pavement adorns the threshold of the great veranda of the Temple. It covers the entry to the subterranean part of the Temple between the two columns, to a crypt that held holy idols and especially the pledge of the alliance between the chosen people and the Creator: the Royal Ark (Ark of the Covenant).
The Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite does not describe in any way this ornament. As to the decoration of the Lodge, it is said however "the floor of the lodge is the pavement in alternative black and white squares. When it is thus decorated, a pavement is achieved wit the shape of a long square, placed in the center of the Lodge, decorated on the model of the latter".
The York Rite affirms that "the mosaic pavement represents the floor of the Temple of Solomon", having the added laced edge. It is obvious enough that it is about a symbolic contribution in what regards the floor of the Lodge, because in the Bible the floor of the Temple isn't described as an series of black and white squares: "and the floor of the Temple was made from cypress planks" (3 Kings 6:15).
Whereas in the Emulation Rite (the Anglo-Saxon Rites are more precise in their descriptions) specifies that "the mosaic pavement may rightly be considered the wondrous tiling of a freemason Lodge due to its diversity and regularity. Thus the diversity of beings and objects in the world surfaces, as well the ensouled ones as those that are not". In the complementary course of the Rite of Emulation (in the fifth part) it is specified: "our lodge is adorned with mosaic pavement to mark the uncertainty of all terrestrial vanities... as we step on this mosaic, our thought must return to the original idea that we imitate and act as honorable men and masons". Mosaic pavement is presented as an image of faith, harmony, understanding..
Outside the definitions offered by different masonic rites, the mosaic pavement may be approached under many aspect, two of which seem edifying to us:
• The floor of the Lodge,
• The route of squares for the tracing of planes,
When we approach the mosaic pavement as floor of the Lodge, we are forced to distinguish between the pavement of operative and speculative Lodges.
In the first case, we specify that Lodges were usually annexes to the construction site, attached to the construction on the Southern side of the Work (to receive more light and to have the wall of the edifice for protection. It is extremely clear and evident that in this case no floor was imposed (nor would any be functional). The tiling that constitutes the mosaic is fragile in contradiction with the dimensions (weight) of the tools of freemasons (sledgehammers were very heavy). If we are talking about a surface for permanent cutting and polishing of rock, we can easily imagine that the floor of such a place was permanently covered by fragments, remains, abrasive dust. Not in the last place, we must note the fact that mosaic was principally fixed in especially prepared mortar in which designs were first marked that etched the image or drawing that was the purpose of the mosaic.
In the other approach, that of the speculative Lodges, a symbolic rug laid in squares may be laid on the floor, or it may be build from alternating black and white tiles, the decision being that of the Lodge. The notionc of mosaic pavement cannot be discussed before the appearance of Grand Lodges.
As a route of squares - as network of right angles - to trace planes is another mode of approach specific to operative lodges, which must distinguish:
A directory route of the edifice that must be understood after we describe the Medieval constructin site at the beginning of the work: on a leveled and cleared surface (treated with charcoal), a scheme of the main lines of the edifice was traced with the help of a rope covered in chalk. There
are documents to this effect that attest the describe practice, which reminds of certain answers from the masonic catechism. To the question: "how do you serve your Master?", there is the answer: "with charcoal, chalk and clay".
A technical assistance set of squares would be another variant of this approach. An amenably arranged surface, spread in regular squares through lines traced for inumerable uses, the first and most important being that of assembly table. It also served to establish easily a series of angles, in an approximate way that was sufficient for a mason (taking four divisions on a line, and on the perpendicular seven at one extremity, a reasaonbly 60° angle is obtained). In fact, we can imagine the banal math copybook paper that has helped us trace with more facility (and more precision) the geometrical shapes that tortured (or didn't) us in the geometry problems in elementary school.
The black and white, chessboard-like pavement is thus the mosaic pavement. In what pertains to the term "mosaic", there are two different opinions, one refering to Moses and one to the technique of decoration. Each school has its pros and cons, more or less logical and valid.
"The canvas of ours lives is a mixed thread, the good together with the bad" wrote Shakespeare. Anything is characterized by a combination of good and bad, light and shadow, joy and sadness, positive and negative, yin and yang. What is good for me may be bad for you, pleasure is generated by pain, etc.
Following the thread of the current Paper, we may say with certainty that the mosaic is not mart of the elements of Judaic architecture and that the mosaic pavement is a contribution of modern speculative Masonry, operative lodges never having been squared this way. It is obvious that the current exposition is not and does not wish to be an exhaustive work. It is a somewhat complex approach of an important symbol in the decoration of the masonic Temple and it wishes in fact to the a paper addressing an open question:
- The mosaic pavement is the floor of the Lodge (as the rituals consider it) or is it the space limited by the three pillars Power, Wisdom, and Beauty?
A good thought accompanied by the triple brotherly accolade!
Copyright Forum Masonic
photo courtesy google images
The Image of God in Man
Martin Luther: 'If these powers [memory, will, and mind] are the image of God, it will also follow that Satan was created according to the image of God, since he surely has these natural endowments, such as memory and a very superior intellect and a most determined will, to a far higher degree than we have them' (Commentary on Genesis, p.61) .
Westminster Larger Catechism: 'After God had made all other creatures, he created man male and female; formed the body of the man out of the dust of the ground, and the woman of the rib of the man, endued them with living, reasonable and immortal souls [this is man’s constitution]; made them after his own image, in knowledge, righteousness and holiness [this is the image of God in man]' (Answer 17) .
First god created the white butt
Than he created the brown and black butt
The white butt was made to kick the black and brown butt
The brown and black butt had rights of reservation
Reserved along with the mute mutt
The white butt of the white man and his white slut
Made in the image of the white god to hit and hurt
The white butt sensitive smooth faced of the poet pervert
Razor sharp jaws in the gaping hole -beneath
The white woman poets skirt
Bleeding menstrual sorrow through a deep cut
Deep virginal forests -*cockshut
The white butt would go on and on never shut
Including that of the Queensland nut
And the white butt of a racist English
Poet in rhythmic rhapsodic rut
Bent on sodomizing black butt
With his pecker popeyed and uncut
Living in a cocks hut
*cockshut
• (n.) A kind of net to catch woodcock.
Love poetry Hate racism
SANCTUS: Celebrating A Decade of Catechism & Renewed Faith Through Newly Commissioned Religious Images
(The 1st Primera Salida Exhibit)
Museo ng Makati
Brgy. Poblacion, Makati City
November 4-15, 2011
1st Regular Exhibit Day
November 8, 2011
* Exhibit open everyday (except weekends and holidays), 8 AM thru 5 PM.
**Pictures in set unedited due to bulk and time constraints.
***Attention all exhibitors: Feel free to grab any of the pictures for your personal use. Please cite the source whenever and wherever applicable. Thanks.