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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.
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This photo has been graciously provided to be used in the GRID-Arendal resources library by: GRID-Arendal
Number:
180155
Date created:
1957
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Description:
Front row, from left to right: 1) Schaffer; 2) ___; 3) Najjar; 4) Wilkins; 5) Cooke; 6) Taussig; 7) Guild; 8) Kanner; 9) Holman.
Second row, from left to right: 1) Gamble; 2) James; 3) Odell; 4) Childs; 5) ___; 6) Eisenberg; 7) Brailey; 8) Lavenstein; 9) Kenny; 10) Gruskay.
Third row, from left to right: 1) Ashenden; 2) Dodson; 3) Glasner; 4) ___; 5) Sperling; 6) Stempfel; 7) Nakamura; 8) Bunnell.
Fourth row, from left to right: 1) Shaver; 2) Ruben; 3) Elliott; 4) Kolls; 5) Avery; 6) Migeon; 7) Cavanaugh; 8) Seidel.
Fifth row, from left to right: 1) Ferrara; 2) Chandler; 3) Neill; 4) Larson; 5) Witherspoon; 6) Kline.
Sixth row, from left to right: 1) Gochberg; 2) Ganelin; 3) Hopkins; 4) Hardy; 5) Kajdi; 6) Wood; 7) Cushman; 8) Haddad; 9) Martin.
Seventh row, from left to right: 1) Smith; 2) McKahnn; 3) ___; 4) ___; Blizzard.
Eighth row, from left to right: 1) ___; 2) Breger; 3) Levin; 4) Bramley; 5) Pinkerton; 6) McLean.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital. Department of Pediatrics--People
Schaffer, Alexander J.
Najjar, Victor
Wilkins, Lawson
Cooke, Robert E.
Taussig, Helen
Guild, Harriet Griggs
Kanner, Leo
Holman, Gerald H.
Gamble, James L. Jr.
James, Charles A.
Odell, Gerard B.
Childs, Barton
Eisenberg, Leon
Brailey, Miriam E.
Kenny, Frederic M.
Gruskay, Frank Ashenden, Barbara J.
Dodson, Jerry G.
Glasner, Philip J.
Sperling, Donald R.
Stempfel, Robert S. Jr.
Nakamura, Frances F.
Bunnell, David J. Jr.
Shaver, Benjamin A. Jr.
Ruben, Barbara L.
Rubin, Richard Elliott
Kolls, Alfred C. Jr.
Avery, Mary E.
Migeon, Claude J.
Cavanaugh, James J. A.
Ferrara, Joseph D.
Chandler, Caroline A.
Neill, Catherine
Larson, Mary Irene
Witherspoon, May G.
Seidel, Henry M.
Kline, Allen H.
Gochberg, Sumner H.
Ganelin, Robert S.
Hopkins, Edward W.
Hardy, Janet B.
Kajdi, L.
Wood, David E.
Cushman, Marjorie
Haddad, Heskel M.
Martin, M. Mencer
Smith, Lex
McKhann, Guy M.
Blizzard, Robert M.
Bramley, Gertrude L.
Pinkerton, Herman H. Jr.
McLean, William H.
Pediatricians
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
Notes: Photographer unknown.
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.
Sangath and the Gandhi Labor Institute find Doshi at the turn of the 1980s, exploring some themes not seen to any great extent in the earlier work. Obviously, the vault is now a big deal; I'm not sure whether that's more easily traced to Kahn (Kimball Art Museum), Corbusier (Sarabhai & Jaoul houses), local Islamic architecture (e.g. Sarkhej Roza or Sidi Saiyyed Mosque) or some sort of breeze-inducing thermal performance logic. It doesn't exactly matter, though, because the synthesis is distinctive on its own terms - I suspect if you polled Indian architects, this is kind of what the generic "Doshi building" in their heads might look like.
The vault's not the only new trick up his sleeve. Check out the exterior surface of the vault: white mosaic tile! (It's also used in Sangath but it's harder to see in the photo.) This is, I think, similar to Aalto's fondness for white-painted brick walls: it's a way of getting a Modernist surface (ie, "white stuff") while ditching a-material purity in exchange for something very material.
Mosaic tile has never had too much of a following post-Gaudi; it's too easily linked to the "decorative," which was ushered out the door by Loos et al. By the time ornament was given a new lease on life by postmodernism, mosaic tile (in the West) was associated mainly with craft fairs, elementary school art class, and other activities rarely deemed hip and stimulating by academic architects. A hippie like Hundertwasser could cheerfully deploys it from exactly this un-hallowed ground, but nobody else goes near it. Its only role is in schemes to give architecture back to The People, ie, the kind of cultureless schlubs who enjoy craft fairs and elementary school art class. Ach!
This is the approach of Herman Hertzberger at LiMa in Berlin: the people get to claim ownership of the apartments' landscaped courtyard by bringing their own old plates, smashing them, and making their own tile mosaics. Hertzberger manages not to come off as condescending only because a) the courtyard is pretty great and well-loved by the residents, and b) it's not a one-off gesture - much of his writing and building was really driven by thinking about how actual schlubby humans would end up using the architecture.
(Incidentally, Hundertwasser's tiles are also, supposedly, the selections of the residents or construction workers - but I feel like he and Hertzberger are on subtly different pages here, as Hertzberger is fundamentally a late Modernist operating within the discipline of architecture, and Hundertwasser is a bearded lunatic self-consciously coming from outside the field to critique architecture's ambitions.)
Doshi's use of mosaic tile is none of the above. For him the white surface isn't just an aesthetic preference - it's a practical move, as it reflects the nightmarish Gujarati sunlight back into space.
It's also in some sense an indigenous building practice - or at least not a obvious foreign importation like beton brut or Le Modulor. In a country as old and as young as India, techniques like mosaic tile have not yet acquired the pallor of "old-timeyness" or "quaintness" or "great rainy-day activity-ness." They're not so much "craft class" as they are actual crafts, and there is a huge, some would say frighteningly cheap, labor pool available to deploy them. Why not tap into that rather than beating your head against the wall, waiting for really fabulous form-finished concrete to be viable?
(We will end up seeing some excellent concrete finishes in India, but they are decades younger than these two buildings. There is tons and tons of bad concrete here, same as everywhere else. As in the States, though, architects don't like to imagine their buildings looking like budget-engineered parking decks, and populate their bookcases with Ando monographs.)
All of this makes Doshi appear to be the poster boy for Critical Regionalism. As I'll elaborate in reference to other projects, I don't think this label is wrong so much as it is incomplete. Thinking of Doshi solely in terms of a synthesis of East and West is unfairly limiting and in a weird way Eurocentric. But we'll come back to all this.
Those of you who pay attention might remember me saying a few weeks ago that St Peter is one of the nearest churches to our house, in fact we can see it from our front garden, and yet I have never been inside.
And so a few weeks ago I decided to make a concerted effort to try to get in and to photograph it.
I spoke with a neighbour about this, as he is a warden at St Margaret's of Antioch, and remarked that a lady living nearby who regularly walked her dogs along our street was a warden at St Peter. This left me the simple task of waiting until I next saw her walking the dogs, 'accidently' go and speak to her and raise the subject
Not only could I get the key from her, but I could also get it at another location, that because of thefts they don't like to publicise, so no one knows or could find out. So, saturday afternoon I get the key, let myself in and snap it.
a church well worth waiting to see, but not 5 years I fear....
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WEST CLIFFE
IS so called from its situation westward of the adjoining parish of St. Margaret at Cliffe last described, and to distinguish it from that of Cliff at Hoo, near Rochester.
THIS PARISH lies very high on the hills, and much exposed; it is partly inclosed and partly open, arable and pasture downs; it extends to the high chalk cliffs on the sea shore, and the South Foreland on them, where the light-house stands. The high road from Dover to Deal leads through it. Its greatest extent is from north to south, in the middle of which stands the church, and village adjoining to it. As well as the adjoining parishes it is exceedingly dry and healthy, the soil is mostly chalk, notwithstanding which there is some good and fertile land in it. The height and continuance of the hills, and the depth and spacious width of the valleys, added to a wildness of nature, which is a leading feature throughout this part of the country, contribute altogether to its pleasantness; and the variety of propects, as well over the adjoining country, as the sea, and the coast of France beyond it, are very beautiful.
THE MANOR OF WEST CLIFFE, alias WALLETTSCOURT, was, in the time of the Conqueror, part of those possessions with which he enriched his halfbrother Odo, bishop of Baieux, and earl of Kent, under the general title of whose lands it is thus entered in the survey of Domesday, taken in the 15th year of that reign:
Hugo (de Montfort) holds of the bishop, Westclive. It was taxed at two sulings. The arable land is. . . . . In demesne is one carucate, and seventeen villeins, having two carucates. In the time of king Edward the Con sessor it was worth eight pounds, when he received it six pounds, now eight pounds. Of this manor Hugo de Montfort holds two mills of twenty-eight shilings. Edric held it of king Edward.
Four years afterwards the bishop was disgraced, and all his possessions were confiscated to the crown, upon which this manor was granted to Hamon de Crevequer, a man of much note at that time, who was succeeded in it by the eminent family of Criol, and they continued in the possession of it in the reign of king Henry III. in the 48th year of which, John de Criol, younger son of Bertram, died possessed of it, leaving Bertram his son and heir, and he alienated it to Sir Gilbert Peche. He soon afterwards conveyed it to king Edward I. and Eleanor his queen, for the use of the latter, who died possessed of it in the 19th year of that reign. How long it afterwards continued in the crown I have not found; but in the 20th year of king Edward III. Gawin Corder held it by knight's service of the honor of Perch, viz. of the constabularie of Dover castle.
Sir Gawin Corder possessed this manor only for life, for the next year the king granted the reversion of it to Reginald de Cobham for his services, especially in France, being the son of John de Cobham, of Cobham, by his second wife Joane, daughter of Hugh de Nevill. (fn. 1) His son Reginald was of Sterborough castle, whence all his descendants were called of that place.
Reginald de Cobham, his son, possessed this manor, whose eldest surviving son Sir Thomas Cobham died possessed of this manor held in capite, in the 11th year of king Edward IV. leaving an only daughter and sole heir Anne, who carried it in marriage to Sir Edward Borough, of Gainsborough, in Lincolnshire, (fn. 2) the lands of whose grandson Thomas, lord Burgh, were disgavelled by the act passed in the 31st year of king Henry VIII. His son William, lord Burgh, succeeded to it, holding it in capite, and in the 15th year of queen Elizabeth alienated it to Mr. Thomas Gibbon, who resided here; and it should be observed that though the coat of arms assigned to the Gibbons, of Westcliffe, by Sir William Segar, Sable, a lion rampant, guardant, or, between three escallops, argent—bears a strong resemblance to that assigned by him to the Gibbons, of Rolvenden, and is identically the same as those allowed to the Gibbons of Frid, in Bethersden, who were undoubtedly a branch of those of Rolvenden, yet I do not find any affinity between them; but I should rather suppose, these of Westcliffe were descended of the same branch as those of Castleacre abbey, in Norfolk; Matthew, the eldest son of Thomas Gibbon, the purchaser of this manor, rebuilt this seat in 1627, as the date still remaining on it shews. He resided in it, as did his several descendants afterwards down to Tho. Gibbon, gent. (fn. 3) who in 1660 sold it to Streynsham Master, esq. and he alienated it to admiral Matthew Aylmer, afterwards in 1718 created lord Aylmer, of the kingdom of Ireland, whose descendant Henry, lord Aylmer, devised it to his youngest son the Hon. and Rev. John Aylmer, and he alienated it to George Leith, esq. of Deal, who passed it away by sale to the two daughters and coheirs of Mr. Thomas Peck, surgeon, of Deal; they married two brothers, viz. James Methurst Pointer, and Ambrose Lyon Pointer, gentlemen, of London, and they are now, in right of their wives, jointly entitled to this manor.
BERE, or BYER-COURT, as it is sometimes written, situated in the southern part of this parish, was once accounted a manor, and was parcel of the demesnes of a family of the same name; one of whom, William de Bere, was bailiff of Dover in the 2d and 4th years of king Edward I. After this name was extinct here, this manor passed into the name of Brockman, and from thence into that of Toke, a family who seem before this to have been for some time resident in Westcliffe, (fn. 4) and bore for their arms, Parted per chevron, sable and argent, three griffins heads, erased and counterchanged. John Toke, a descendant of the purchaser of this manor in the fourth generation, lived here in the reigns of king Henry V. and VI. as did his eldest son Thomas Toke, esq. who by Joane, daughter of William Goldwell, esq. of Godington, in Great Chart, whose heir-general she at length was, had three sons, Ralph, who succeeded him in the family seat of Bere; Richard, who died s. p. and John, the youngest, who had the seat and estate of Godington, where his descendants remain at this time. Ralph Toke, esq. the eldest son above-mentioned, resided at Bere in king Henry VIII.'s time, in whose descendants this manor continued till the latter end of the last century, when Nicholas Tooke, or Tuck, as the name came then to be spelt, dying possessed of it, his heirs conveyed it afterwards by sale to the trustees of George Rooke, esq. of St. Laurence, who died possessed of this estate, which had long before this lost all the rights of having ever been a manor, in 1739, s. p. leaving it to his widow Mrs. Frances Rooke, (fn. 5) who alienated it to Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, who died in 1757, and his only son and heir Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, is the present owner of it. (fn. 6)
SOLTON is an estate in the northern part of this parish, which was once accounted a manor; it was part of the possessions of Odo, bishop of Baieux, under the general title of whose lands it is entered in the survey of Domesday, as follows:
Hugo (de Montfort) holds Soltone of the bishop. It was taxed at one suling. The arable land is . . . . . In demesne there is one carucate, and three villeins, with one borderer, paying four shillings and seven pence. In the time of king Edward the Consessor, it was worth fifteen ponnds, and afterwards and now thirty shillings. In this manor Godric dwelt, and holds twenty acres as his own fee simple.
Four years after the taking of the above survey, the bishop was disgraced, and all his possessions were confiscated to the crown.
Soon after which this manor was granted to Jeffry de Peverel, and together with other lands elsewhere, made up the barony of Peverel, as it was then called, being held of the king in capite by barony, for the defence of Dover castle, to which it owed ward and service. Of the heirs of Jeffery de Peverel, this manor was again held by the family of Cramaville, by knight's service, and it appears by the escheat rolls, that Henry de Cramaville held it in capite at his death, in the 54th year of king Henry III. by yearly rent and ward to the castle of Dover; after which, though part of this estate came into the possession of the Maison Dieu hospital, in Dover, yet the manor and mansion of Solton became the property of the family of Holand, who bore for their arms, Parted per fess, sable and argent, three fleurs de lis, counterchanged. Henry Holand died possessed of this part of it in the 35th year of king Edward I. holding it in capite, as of the honor of Peverel, and it continued in that name till Henry Holand dying anno 10 Richard II. his daughter and heir Jane became possessed of it; after which it passed into the name of Frakners, and then again into that of Laurence, from whom it was conveyed to Finet, and Robert Finet resided here in queen Elizabeth's reign, being descended from John Finet, of Sienne, in Italy, of an antient family of that name there, who came into England with cardinal Campejus, anno 10 Henry VIII. They bore for their arms, Argent, on a cross engrailed, gules, five fleurs de lis of the field. His son Sir John Finet, master of the ceremonies to king James and king Charles I. likewise resided here, and died in 1641. He left by Jane his wife, daughter of Henry, lord Wentworth, two daughters and coheirs, Lucia and Finette, who became entitled to this manor, which at length was afterwards alienated to Matson, whose descendant Henry Matson, about the year 1720, devised it by his will, with other estates, to the value of one hundred and fifty pounds per annum, to the trustees of Dover harbour, for the use, benefit, and repair of it for ever, but the discharging of the trust in Mr. Matson's will being attended with many difficulties, his affairs were put into the court of chancery, and a decree was made, that the commissioners of Dover harbour should have Diggs-place, Solton, Singledge, and other lands, to make up the one hundred and fifty pounds per annum, they paying forty pounds a year out of these estates to the poor relations of his family, as long as any such of the name should remain according to the devise in his will, and the trustees above-mentioned, are at this time entitled to the fee of it.
There are no parochial charities. The poor constantly maintained are about sixteen, casually six.
THIS PARISH is within the ECCLESIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the diocese of Canterbury, and deanry of Dover.
The church, which is dedicated to St. Peter, is small, consisting of only one isle and a chancel. In the chancel is a stone, about one foot square, (not the original one, I apprehend) to the memory of Matthew Gibbon the elder, son of Thomas Gibbon, who built Westcliffe house, and dying in 1629, was buried here. Service being performed in it only once a month, little care is taken of it. This church was given by queen Alianor, wife to king Edward I. together with one acre of land, and the advowson, with the chapels, tithes and appurtenances, to the prior and convent of Christ-church, in pure and perpetual alms, free from all secular service, among other premises, in exchange for the port of Sandwich, which was confirmed by king Edward I. After which, in 1327, anno 2 king Edward III. the parsonage of this church was appropriated to the almnery of the priory, for the sustaining of the chantry founded there by prior Henry de Estry. In which situation it remained till the dissolution of the priory, in the 31st year of king Henry VIII. when it was surrendered, among the other possessions of it; after which, this appropriation and the advowson of the vicarage were settled by the king in his 33d year, among other lands, on his new-erected dean and chapter of Canterbury, part of whose possessions they remain at this time.
On the sequestration of the possessions of deans and chapters, after the death of king Charles I. this parsonage was valued in 1650, by order of the state, when it appeared to consist of the parsonage-house, a large barn and yard, with the parsonage close, of three acres, and four acres lying in Westcliffe common field, together with the tithes of corn and grass, and all other small tithes within the parish, of the improved yearly value of sixty-two pounds. (fn. 7) The lessee repairs the chancel of the parsonage. Thomas Barrett, esq. of Lee, is the present lessee, on a beneficial lease.
The vicarage of Westcliffe is not valued in the king's books. In 1640 it was valued at ten pounds, communicants twenty. It is now of the clear yearly value of twenty-four pounds per annum, which is the augmented pension paid by the dean and chapter, the vicar not being entitled to any tithes whatever, nor even to the profits of the church-yard, all which are demised by the dean and chapter as part of the parsonage.
Maurice Callan, curate in 1466, was buried in this church, and by his will ordered his executors to pave the body of this church with paving tile.
www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=63585
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A great surprise meets the visitor who is lucky enough to gain admittance here! The church is entered by walking up a hill, but you actually step down into the interior as the hill drops away steeply to the north, with the church set into its ridge. A Norman flint church of nave, chancel and later south tower, it is a haven of peace and light. Much of the latter floods in through the huge Decorated west window (its lancet predecessors may be seen in the wall outside). The church has a rare interior indeed – box pews run down north and south walls and there is a huge alley between, designed for the benches that still survive dotted about the building. Box pews were rented; the benches were for the non-paying poor. In pride of position is the pulpit. All this woodwork dates from the early nineteenth century, although the chancel was refurnished in the 1877s by the Church Commissioners and is standard fare. The lovely east window, the stonework of which is surely of the 1870s, contains some Georgian coloured glass edging – most delightful. Beautifully cared for and much loved, it is a shame that it is not more accessible to the casual visitor.
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.
Number:
171528
Date created:
1907
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 3 x 4 in.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital School of Nursing--People
Adams, Helen Augusta
Addison, Sarah
Benzinger, M. Elizabeth
Boley, Rosa F.
Holt, Florence Boyce
Cadel, Inez Louise
Carter, Emma E.
McClain, Grace Carter
Coale, Edith Skipwith
Crenshaw, Sue Brown
Freeman, Ethel
Henderson, Alice
Miller, Mary Hooper
Keating, Mary A. R.
Duer, Leah Kirkland
Jones, Helen Landers
Denningsmith, Colina Macdonald
Mills, Alice Chester
O'Connell, Anne H.
Patterson, Florence
Quaintance, Bertha B.
Raymond, Agnes M.
Reed, Mary Elkins
Saxton, Mary Howard
Cannon, Camsadel Shipley
Staley, Bertha D.
Taylor, Effie J.
Thomas, Sarah Margaret
Ainley, Charlotte Turford
Tyree, M. Evelyn
Bromley, Beatrice Adelaide Whish
Downey, May Lee Willis
Nursing students--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Nurses--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Graduation ceremonies--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Portrait photographs
Group portraits
Notes: Photographer unknown.
Number:
179425
Date created:
1991
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Description:
Front row, from left to right: 1) George; 2) Sheils; 3) Furth; 4) Oski; 5) Besser; 6) McMillan; 7) Boney; 8) Murray;9) O'Brien; 10) Wong.
Second row, from left to right: 1) Stoddard; 2) Sokoloski; 3) Rutherford; 4) Thiele; 5) Heneghan; 6) Neu; 7) Rome; 8) Zempsky.
Third row, from left to right: 1) Moon; 2) Beerel; 3) Owens; 4) Aiken; 5) Vogt; 6) Engel.
Fourth row, from left to right: 1) Duncan; 2) Bernard; 3) Robinson; 4) Gmur; 5) Badawi; 6) Gest; 7) Sterni; 8) Anderson.
Fifth row, from left to right: 1) Hannon; 2) Flowers; 3) Orman; 4) Henderson; 5) McCartie; 6) Phoon; 7) Atz.
Back row, from left to right: 1) Russell; 2) Ciarello; 3) Dovey; 4) Lesiter; 5) Stapleton; 6) Zeiter; 7) Fragetta; 8) Rufo; 9) Hardart; 10) Simone.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital. Department of Pediatrics--People
George, Diane M.
heils, Catherine Anne
Furth, Susan
Oski, Frank A
Besser, Richard E.
McMillan, Julia
Boney, Charlotte
Murray, Carol B.
O'Brien, Katherine L.
Wong, Corinne
Stoddard, Jeffrey J.
Sokoloski, Mary Carmel
Rutherford, Lorene E.
Thiele, Elizabeth Anne
Heneghan, Amy L.
Neu, Alicia
Rome, Ellen S.
Zempsky, William Todd
Moon, Margaret Rusha
Beerel, Virginia B.
Owens, Nancy E.
Aitken, Mary E.
Vogt, Beth A.
Engel, Miachel C.
Duncan, Laura R.
Fishalow, Bernard David
Robinson, Walter
Gmur, Frances W.
Badawi, Deborah Golant
Gest, Kathleen L.
Sterni, Laura Marie
Anderson, Teresa T.
Hannon, Patricia R.
Flowers, Margaret D.
Orman, William H.
Henderson, Sheryl Louise
McCartie, J. Christopher
Phoon, Colin K.
Atz, Andrew M.
Russell, Mark W.
Ciarallo, Lydia R.
Dovey, Mark E.
Leister, Elizabeth C.
Stapleton, Robert Davis
Zeiter, Donna Kristen
Fragetta, James E.
Rufo, Paul A.
Hardart, George E.
Simone, Eric A.
Pediatricians
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
Notes: Photographer unknown.
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.
You might think that these subway photos are entirely "accidental" and unplanned -- and to some extent you would be correct, as I never known, in advance, exactly what I'll find or what kind of photos I'll end up with. But it's not entirely random, as you'll come to understand when I describe some of the details associated with this collection of 10 "keepers" that I selected out of 102 photos taken on Mar 30, 2010.
First of all, the idea of taking some subway photos usually only occurs to me on rainy days. If it's bright and sunny outside, who would want to spend his time down underground, where it's dark and noisy and claustrophobic? Also, people who venture outside on rainy days normally have bright, colorful umbrellas (as well as the boring, black ones), and the women often wear equally bright, colorful Welly boots. Once they get down into a subway station, safely away from the rain, they go through various rituals of stamping their feet to shake off the water, folding their umbrellas to put them away, and generally unbuckling/unsnapping/unzipping their restrictive rain gear.
As it turns out, there had been heavy rain all morning on Tues, Mar 30th -- and since that made it impractical to sit outside and take my usual "peeps in the 'hood" photos, I thought it would be a good time to return to the subways once again. Unfortunately, the rain slacked off in the middle of the day, so the umbrella/boot outfits turned out to be much less interesting than I would have expected.
Aside from that, I had no idea -- and never do have any idea -- of what to expect. Having taken subway photos on roughly half a dozen occasions, I do know that I'm likely to see a different crowd of subway-riders in the middle of the week than on the weekend; and there will be different people in the middle of the day than during rush-hour, or during the period right after public schools release all their kids. But aside from that, it's an unpredictable potpourri of workers (some blue-collar, some white-collar), students, tourists, young children, parents and grandparents, homeless people, cops, and utterly mysterious strangers. On this particular occasion, I decided to sit on the uptown side of the 96th Street station, because I figured (rightly or wrong, who knows?) that there would probably be more people heading downtown towards Times Square than uptown toward Morningside Heights and Harlem.
Some people are photographically interesting simply because of the way they look, or the way they dress; others are interesting because of what they are doing -- e.g., running, walking briskly, tossing their hair around, or interacting with a friend or family member, or (as is so often the case in my subway-photography experiences) reading, listening to music, or just daydreaming about their own private world. Thus, one photo may be enough; but with the slow shutter speeds that I typically have to use in the dimly lit subway station, I'll normally take two or three just to be safe. And if the subject(s) is/are "doing" something, then I'll often take half a dozen photos, in the hope that one or two of them will turn out to be interesting. And that helps explain why I typically only keep about 10% of the photos I take; the rest are blurred, out-of-focus, redundant, or merely ordinary...
There's another consequence of this approach: inevitably, I know much more about the "context" of the subject(s) I photograph than does anyone who views the resulting photograph that I publish/upload to Flickr -- because I've spent at least a few seconds watching what they're doing, and I've taken several other photos in which they sometimes look (or act) quite differently. I don't think about it very much, but I realize that I subconsciously just assume that viewers have the same context in mind that I do ... but over and over again, it becomes evident that it just ain't so. An example: I once photographed a woman sitting at an outside cafe on Broadway, a few blocks from where these subway photos were taken; and a few months later, I was startled to see the photo published in a Turkish blog about how to select tour guides in Istanbul.
Ultimately, I have to admit that even I don't know what the "real" context is, i.e., what the subject of my photos are actually thinking or doing -- except in the very rare circumstances when I introduce myself to the subject and speak to him/her. But most of the time, I just try to imagine what's going on in their lives; and I use that imagination to come up with the title/caption that I put on most of the photos. In most cases, the title/captions represent a feeble, but deliberate, attempt at humor; but in any case, it's important that I admit that in most cases, I have no idea whether those caption/titles are accurate or realistic.
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This is a continuation of a series of subway photos that I began in the spring of 2009, and which you can find here. Thus far in 2010, my photographic efforts have included the IRT subway stations at 96th Street, 42nd Street (Times Square), and Christopher Street/Sheridan Square (in Greenwich Village).
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Over the years, I've seen various photos of the NYC subway "scene," usually in black-and-white format. But during a spring 2009 class on street photography at the NYC International Center of Photography (ICP), I saw lots and lots of terrific subway shots taken by my fellow classmates ... so I was inspired to start taking some myself.
One of the reasons I rarely, if ever, took subway photos before 2009 is that virtually every such photo I ever saw was in black-and-white. I know that some people are fanatics about B/W photography as a medium; and I respect their choice. And I took quite a lot of B/W photographs in the 1970s, especially when I had my own little makeshift darkroom for printing my own photos.
But for the past 30 years, I've focused mostly on color photography. As for photos of subways, I don't feel any need to make the scene look darker and grimier than it already is, by restricting it to B/W. Indeed, one of the things I find quite intriguing is that there is a lot of color in this environment, and it's not too hard to give some warmth and liveliness to the scene...
To avoid disruption, and to avoid drawing attention to myself, I'm not using flash shots; but because of the relatively low level of lighting, I'm generally using an ISO setting of 3200 or 6400, depending on which camera I'm using. As a result, some of the shots are a little grainy - but it's a compromise that I'm willing to make.
I may eventually use a small "pocket" digital camera, but the initial photos have been taken with my somewhat large, bulky Nikon D300 and D700 DSLRs. If I'm photographing people on the other side of the tracks in a subway station, there's no problem holding up the camera, composing the shot, and taking it in full view of everyone. But if I'm taking photos inside a subway car, I normally set the camera lens to a wide angle (18mm or 24mm) setting, point it in the general direction of the subject(s), and shoot without framing or composing.
If I can find some situations where people hold still for a few seconds, I think I might try some HDR scenes, just to see what it looks like. But so far, no such occasions have presented themselves. We'll see how it goes...
To what extent can media companies employ predictive analytics and other data driven approaches to improve content performance? This event, organized by NYC Media Lab and hosted by Bloomberg on February 25, fused short 5 minute presentations and discussion from startups, media companies and university researchers advancing the state of the art in a variety show intended to provoke discussion and debate on opportunities in this fast-moving field of interest.
Speakers included Brian Eoff, Lead Data Scientist, bitly; Ky Harlin, Director, Data Science, BuzzFeed; Mor Naaman, Associate Professor, Cornell Tech and Co-founder and Chief Scientist, Seen.co; Simon Smith, Senior Vice President, Platforms, News Corp; Joshua Schwartz, Lead Data Scientist, Chartbeat.com; and Lisa Strausfeld, Global Head of Data Visualization, Bloomberg LP.
Photos by Yang Jiang.
Learn more about NYC Media Lab at www.nycmedialab.org.
Number:
175300
Creator: Segall-Majestic (Baltimore, MD)
Date created:
1946
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 9.5 x 13.5 in.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital School of Nursing--People
Wolf, Anna Dryden
Warder, Anna Mary
Marinak, Helen Roll
Martin, Doris Schroeder
Murphy, Joyce
Franz, Phyllis Becker
Wenderoth, Gloria M.
Bond, Agness C. Fulton
Johnson, Virginia Bard
Weston, Barbara Buzby
Hess, Joan Chesney
Worman, Elizabeth (Betsy) Coe
Gude, Donna Currier
France, Catherine (Kitty) H.
Lacy, Ruth Geren
Gilkey, Helen Huberty
Hamlett, Margaret L.
Cooley, E. Grace Jarnagin
Cokeley, Madeline Krebs
Petrick, Margaret Krebs
Hinshaw, Alice Larson
McCaddon, Mary Elizabeth
McShane, Sara F.
Holleb, Carolyn Oglesby
Pennebaker, Ruth (Penny)
Reeslund, Rosella Potter
Thompson, Dorothy Powers
Pruchnik, Blanche P.
Byers, Lucille Replogle
Reyes, Isabel
Rich, Annette B.
Sanbury, Virginia
McAnerney, Doris Sinclair
Smith, Janet
Mims, Jobyna Smith
Sollogub, Ethel Bittel
Tunner, Madelyn J.
Vacheresse, Helen F.
Walters, Betty Jane
Hinson, Betty Louise Whitley
Grand, Norma K.
Wood, Marjorie B.
Hayden, A. Martyne Woods
Kline, Mary L. Potteiger
Nursing students--Maryland--Baltimore--1940-1950
Nurses--Maryland--Baltimore--1940-1950
Portrait photographs
Group portraits
Number:
179623
Date created:
1972
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Description:
Front row, from left to right: 1) Winkelstein; 2) Cooke; 3) MacLean.
Second row, from left to right: 1) S. Shurin; 2) Parker; 3) Haughton; 4) McCormick; 5) Teets; 6) Rogol; 7) Zitelli; 8) Fleischman; 9) Polmar.
Third row, form left to right: 1) Kasselberg; 2) Goldstein; 3) Harris; 4) DeAngelis; 5) Zuckerman.
Fourth row, from left to right: 1) Friedman; 2) Hatch; 3) Levy; 4) Berakha; 5) Plotnik; 6) Arkans; 7) Hoffman; 8) Baker; 9) Johnston; 10) P. Shurin.
Fifth row, from left to right: 1) Hanson; 2) Holbrook; 3) Saenz; 4) Vavich; 5) Tripp; 8) Adler.
Sixth row, from left to right: 1) Broske; 2) Myers; 3) Brumback; 4) Williams; 5) Coopersmith; 6) Quattlebaum; 7) Woodhead.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital. Department of Pediatrics--People
Winkelstein, Jerry A.
Cooke, Robert E.
MacLean, William C. Jr.
Shurin, Susan Blakely
Parker, Winifred Berner
Haughton, Peter B. T.
McCormick, Marie Clare
Teets, Katherine C.
Rogol, Alan D.
Zitelli, Basil J.
Fleishman, Alan R.
Polmar, Stephen H.
Kasselberg, Alfred Guy
Goldstein, David Stanley
Harris, James
DeAngelis, Catherine D.
Zuckerman, Alan E.
Friedman, Charles Alvin
Hatch, Terry F.
Levy, Robert
Berakha, Mary Beale
Plotnick, Leslie
Arkans, Howard D.
Hoffman, William H.
Baker, Raymond C.
Johnston, Michael V.
Shurin, Paul A.
Hanson, James W.
Holbrook, Peter R.
Vavich, Joel Mitchell
Tripp, Ray W.
Adler, Stuart Phillip
Broske, Stuart P.
Myers, Martin G.
Brumback, Roger A.
Williams, H. Stephen
Coopersmith, Alan
Quattlebaum, Thomas G.
Woodhead, Jerold C.
Pediatricians
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
Notes: Photographer unknown.
Number:
179454
Date created:
1982
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Description:
Front row, from left to right: 1) Hall; 2) Littlefield; 3) Simmons; 4) Yeager.
Second row, from left to right: 1) Murphy; 2) Nogee; 3) Kipp; 4) Kayne; 5) Saba; 6) Silber; 7) Stone; 8) Elias; 9) Hudak.
Third row, form left to right: 1) Mitchell; 2) Nguyen; 3) Goodman; 4) S. Rowe; 5) Virshup; 6) Cousins; 7) Buchanan; 8) J. Bender.
Fourth row, from left to right: 1) Marbon; 2) Brooks; 3) P. Rowe; 4) Crissinger; 5) Epple; 6) Babcock; 7) Schonwetter; 8) Kessler; 9) Casella; 10) Fitzpatrick; 11) Fahey.
Fifth row, from left to right: 1) Bachar; 2) Pride-Boone; 3) Reede; 4) Narayanan; 5) Rekedal; 6) Hutton; 7) Wissow; 8) Thuma; 9) Zuckerman; 10) Graham.
Back row: 1) Nolan; 2) Lemons; 3) Kingry; 4) Goldstein; 5) Bordy; 6) Fackler; 7) Eiden; 8) Dietrich; 9) K. Bender; 10) LeBlanc.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital. Department of Pediatrics--People
Hall, David E.
Littlefield, John W.
Simmons, Michael
Yeager, Andrew Michael
Murphy, Anne Margaret
Nogee, Lawrence Mark
Kipp, David F.
Kayne, Richard David
Saba, Norman Morris
Silber, Jeffrey Howard
Stone, Pamela Jean
Elias, Ellen R.
Hudak, Mark Lawrence
Mitchell, Helen
Nguyen, Quan C.
Goodman, David C.
Rowe, Stuart Allen
Virshup, David Marc
Cousins, Renee A.
Buchanan, Donald E.
Bender, Joan G.C.
Marban, Sharon L.
Brooks, Betsy A.
Rowe, Peter C.
Crissinger, Karen Denise
Epple, Lawrence King Jr.
Babcock, Debra A.
Schonwetter, Barry S.
Kessler, David A.
Casella, James
Fitzpatrick, Kathleen M.
Fahey, John T.
Behar, Miriam Joy
Pride-Boone, Janice B.
Reede, Joan Y.
Narayanan, Vinodh
Rekedal, Kirby D.
Hutton, Nancy
Wissow, Lawrence S.
Thuma, Philip E.
Zuckerman, Andrea L.
Graham, Janet E.
Nolan, Robert J.
Lemons, Richard S.
Kingry, Karen R.
Goldstein, Daniel Arthur
Bordy, Marjorie E.
Fackler, James C.
Eiden, Joseph J.
Dietrich, Richard Laroy
Bender, Karen S.
LeBlanc, Ralph E.
Pediatricians
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
Notes: Photographer unknown.
As I have said previously, I used to travel from Lowestoft to Bungay every day for over 5 years; sometimes by car, but for the last three years by coach.
The coach used to pick up at various places, and once we had left Beccles we used to pick up at the bottom of the hill from the short stretch of dual carriageway and again at the main part of the village, where the church was.
I used to think, even back in the 80s, that Barsham was a fine location for a church: down a private lane where where the vicarage and church are. I thought this really was private, and so never did go for a look.
And so on my only full day in the area, Barsham was once church I really did want to visit, and so taking the now much quieter road out of Beccles and slowing down for the turn to the church.
In the 25 years since I last traveled the road to work, the trees have grown even larger, to the extent the church is all but invisible from the road now, well in summer for sure.
The church is still hidden as I approached, hidden behind a line of trees, but the round tower could be seen over the top of the lych gate.
Inside, there was bunting, a Nelson connection, and two of the wardens were doing the weekly cleaning, and were very chatty, but polite enough to let me get on with my snapping.
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e decided to spend the day visiting the churches of the Lothingland peninsula, but it had taken less time than I'd thought it would. Some of the churches that we'd expected to find locked were open, but none of the ones that were locked had keyholders. The ones on the Suffolk side of the border were open, as you'd expect, but we were also pleased to find the Norfolk churches of Fritton and Bradwell open to strangers and pilgrims. The grim parish church at dismal Hopton was padlocked up to the eyeballs, and the graffiti-stricken Belton church appeared to have been completely abandoned, a ruin in the making. It was with some relief that we decided to head back south into gentle Suffolk - the alternative, leaving the peninsula via Yarmouth, was too awful a prospect to contemplate.
Where to go next? I hadn't been to Barnby or North Cove for a number of years, and so I suggested that we take a look there. Both churches have no less than three keyholders each, but at each church not a single one of them answered the phone - perhaps they were all at a keyholders' conference or something.
Inevitably then, my thoughts turned to Barsham, a bit further down the road on the other side of Beccles. Barnby and North Cove straddle the A146, a rat-run between Bungay and the sea. It is not a road a cyclist should spend any amount of time on. But the Church of the Most Holy Trinity is gorgeous in its setting across a meadow from the road. Once in its pretty churchyard, the sound of the traffic is left behind. The splendid former rectory slumbers just beyond the fence. This was one of Suffolk's great Anglo-catholic shrines, and generations of visitors have made the same journey as we were making. And even before that extraordinary movement reared its head, this parish touched the world in a significant way, at least once.
The exterior of this building is the most beautiful of any small church in Suffolk. I dare say that the setting was even more idyllic before the elm trees which Arthur Mee saw here in the 1930s were lost to Dutch Elm disease. The most striking feature is at the east end. Here, like an extension of the window, an extraordinary flint lattice spreads across the face of the wall. It has been variously dated as anything between the early 12th century and the late 19th century; Clive Hart, in his excellent book East Anglian Flushwork, dates it as 16th Century. It is most unusual; there's nothing exactly like it anywhere else in Suffolk, although something rather similar has been picked out in brick on the east wall at Spexhall. Near the south porch sits a memorial to one of the famous names associated with Barsham. Adrian Bell was the finest author to write books about Suffolk in the 20th century, particularly Corduroy and Silver Ley. He was the father of the white-suited former Independent MP, Martin Bell.
Curiously,the tower and nave are not fully joined above head height. There is a window in the west wall of the nave, suggesting that the body of the church here is older than the tower against which it stands - or, more precisely, the west wall is. The Caen stone of the south doorway suggests a post-1066 date for that feature, at least. You step down into a charming, devotional space. The chapel to St Catherine on the north side creates an unusual dynamic, the chancel pressed as it is against the south wall. As elsewhere in Suffolk, much work was done here from the 1870s onwards. The restoring architect was Charles Kempe, best known these days for the glass he produced in vast volume.
Kempe had a number of assistants during his long career, two of whom would have a part to play in the story of this church. One was Frederick Eden, who would return here at the start of the new century and furnish this understated, devotional shrine. His loving and meticulous attention to detail is ultimately what, internally at least, makes Holy Trinity the church it is today. He was responsible for the rebuilding and furnishing of the chapel of St Catherine in 1908. He found a Norman font bowl under the chapel floorboards, which is now on display there. Also his are the communion rails, the sanctuary carpet, the aumbry, the war memorial and even the lychgate outside. Most important of all, however, is the glass, which is almost all his.
The other Kempe apprentice was the young Ninian Comper, that flamboyant Anglo-catholic, whose finest hour, in East Anglia at least, would come up the road at Lound. The church guide quotes a letter which the nineteen year old Comper wrote to his mother from Barsham rectory on Good Friday 1883: Dearest Mother mine, it is a lovely place - a sweet rectory in the midst of splendid trees & the little church almost touching the house. There is a curious East window all in diamond tracery down to the cill and most of the diamonds contain a Saint or Angel painted by my master so I feel at home. And there is a pretty Elizabethan screen, done up & supplied with a rood and iron gates by my master also. Mr Williams is what I call a regular thorough priest and not a rector or a clergyman and is much to my mind but Father knows him well, I believe, and so need not try to dwell upon his virtues!
The rood screen is very unusual - again, there's nothing quite like it anywhere else in Suffolk. It is probably Laudian, as at Kedington, having been put up in the 1630s to replace that torn down at the Reformation a century before.The rood, which is not the one Comper saw, and the arch of honour were put up in the 1890s, and painted in 1919. I can't help thinking that the archway has a DIY feel to it, but the little statues are rather sweet. Another unusual feature of the church is the restored low side window in the chancel. The shutter and its hinges were made by a local blacksmith, probably under the supervision of Kempe. The window above shows Jesus healing the ten lepers, a reference to the then-current misguided belief that low side windows had something to do with allowing lepers a view of the altar. This idea has now been entirely discredited, but still the window remains, a memory of the enthusiasm for the medieval in the last years of the 19th century.
A roughly surviving St Christopher wall painting is discernible on the north wall of the nave. These are relatively common in this part of East Anglia, and you probably wouldn't notice this one unless you looked for it. The length of the wall is now taken up with the famious England Expects That Every Man Will Do His Duty signal in flags. There's a good reason for this, as we will see. The George III coat of arms comes from nearby Shipmeadow, now a private house, as do the paschal candlestick and the Jacobean Holy Table in the rebuilt chapel of St Catherine. A simpler memory of the past is the memorial board to Harry Stebbings, gassed in the First World War, which was painted by Arthur Batchelor of Norwich at cost of materials only, according to the Rector of the time. More elaborate is the important terracotta table tomb, one of seven in East Anglia, built from parts manufactured in and shipped from Flanders in the 1520s. It was probably to Sir Edward Etchingham, and it served as an Easter sepulchre. There are also a number of floor brasses and ledger stones. The 'rectors and patrons' board was salvaged from a Catholic church in Norwich, presumably the Jesuit chapel in Willow Lane.
On the 8th of February 1906, lightning struck the east end of the church, destroying the stonework of the east window and smashing the medieval mensa which had been reinstalled on the high altar. The fund raised to repair this damage also paid for the building of the north aisle as the chapel of St Catherine. In 1979, a fire destroyed the nave roof, and scorch marks caused by fallen clumps of smouldering straw can still be seen on several benches.
There are a number of Suffolk churches where a dynasty of vicars has handed the living down through the generations. Most famous, perhaps, are the Wallers at Waldringfield, where present rector John Waller is fourth in an unbroken line stretching back to the 1850s.
But here at Barsham, the situation is illustrated in extremis. The Suckling family held the living here from the 17th century right up until the parish was merged into a benefice in the late 20th century. They were the local landed family, and in a position to present themselves to the living on each occasion. This was not unusual, up until the mid-19th century, but the Sucklings carried the tradition beyond that. This was partly by tenaciously bequeathing the property, presentation rights and living to distant cousins when the male line died out, on the condition that the recipient changed his name to Suckling before inheriting. Marriage to a Suckling daughter was another way of qualifying.
But the other thing that ensured this remarkable dynasty's survival was the way they embraced Anglo-catholicism so wholeheartedly, at a time when a career in the Church was increasingly seen as a poor alternative to the fortunes to be made out in the British Empire. They tapped into the energy of the movement in the East End of London, where they also presented livings.
They were particularly associated with the extreme High Church social action movement of the late 19th century, being good friends of Father McKonochie, one of a number of Anglican priests shamefully prosecuted by the Church of England and imprisoned for 'popish practices'. McKonchie retired, a broken man, to Barsham Rectory, before his life ended tragically some five years later. He is remembered by a memorial at the west end of the north aisle here. The Sucklings were also associated with the nearby Anglican convent of All Hallows, at Ditchingham in Norfolk, an institution that scandalised upright Victorian protestants. As at Claydon, the parish priest here suffered vile abuse for his connection with it.
For a few people, this church is a place of pilgrimage for reasons unconnected with its colourful liturgical history. In the 18th century, one of the Suckling daughters grew up to be mother of Admiral Horatio Nelson. In the days when a patriotic pride was taken in the waging of war and advance of imperial adventure, Nelson was considered a great British hero.
Simon Knott, June 2008
To what extent can media companies employ predictive analytics and other data driven approaches to improve content performance? This event, organized by NYC Media Lab and hosted by Bloomberg on February 25, fused short 5 minute presentations and discussion from startups, media companies and university researchers advancing the state of the art in a variety show intended to provoke discussion and debate on opportunities in this fast-moving field of interest.
Speakers included Brian Eoff, Lead Data Scientist, bitly; Ky Harlin, Director, Data Science, BuzzFeed; Mor Naaman, Associate Professor, Cornell Tech and Co-founder and Chief Scientist, Seen.co; Simon Smith, Senior Vice President, Platforms, News Corp; Joshua Schwartz, Lead Data Scientist, Chartbeat.com; and Lisa Strausfeld, Global Head of Data Visualization, Bloomberg LP.
Photos by Yang Jiang.
Learn more about NYC Media Lab at www.nycmedialab.org.
Creator: Samuel Bourne
Title: Council Chamber Delhi
Date: [c.1860-1880]
Extent: 1 photograph: b&w ; (21x27.5cm)
Notes: From a two album set of souvenir photographs from a voyage to and tour of duty in India.
Format: Photograph
Rights Info: No known restrictions on access
Repository: Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ontario Canada, M5S 1A5, library.utoronto.ca/fisher
Part of: MS Coll. 292 Gilpin-Brown, Edward papers.
Finding Aid located at: www.library.utoronto.ca/fisher/collections/findaids/gilpi...
To what extent can media companies employ predictive analytics and other data driven approaches to improve content performance? This event, organized by NYC Media Lab and hosted by Bloomberg on February 25, fused short 5 minute presentations and discussion from startups, media companies and university researchers advancing the state of the art in a variety show intended to provoke discussion and debate on opportunities in this fast-moving field of interest.
Speakers included Brian Eoff, Lead Data Scientist, bitly; Ky Harlin, Director, Data Science, BuzzFeed; Mor Naaman, Associate Professor, Cornell Tech and Co-founder and Chief Scientist, Seen.co; Simon Smith, Senior Vice President, Platforms, News Corp; Joshua Schwartz, Lead Data Scientist, Chartbeat.com; and Lisa Strausfeld, Global Head of Data Visualization, Bloomberg LP.
Photos by Yang Jiang.
Learn more about NYC Media Lab at www.nycmedialab.org.
Number:
171523
Date created:
1905
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 4 x 7 in.
Back row: 1) F. Hewes; 2) C. Sparrow; 3) M. Vannier; 4) E. Hardenberg; 5) G. Jones; 6) E. Rooth; 7) I. Grant; 8) C. Ilig; 9) L. Simpson; 10) Miss Nutting; 11) C. Finney; 12) R. Riley; 13) E. Batterman; 14) E. Smith; 15) H. Wilmer; 16) S. Knox; 17) K. Blackinton; 18) K. Lownsbrough; 19) L. Kent; 20) B. Beck; 21) M. Bunting; 22) M. Cook; 23) M. Carter; 24) C. McCabe. Center row: 1) H. Mullin; 2) A. Fitsgerald; 3) Miss Ross; 4) M. Ellison; 5) M. Rosser; 6) D. Jamieson; 7) I. Chambers; 8) Miss Lawler; 9) S. Barnes; 10) H. Erskine. Front row: 1) H. Wadland; 2) I. Green; 3) C. Baker; 4) A. Dammann; 5) F. McQuaide; 6) E. Geddes; 7) L. D'Espard; 8) K. Steelman.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital School of Nursing--People
Helves, Frances
Withrow, Caroline Sparrow
Vannier, Marion L.
Hardenberg, Else
Williamson, Gertrude Jones
Poynter, Estelle Rooth
Grant, Isabel
Illig, Clara F.
McPhedran, Lila Simpson
Nutting, M. Adelaide (Mary Adelaide), 1858-1948
Finney, Catherine
Riley, Ruby
Batterman, Emma
Nelson, Edith Howard Smith
Athey, Helen S. Wilmer
Blackinton, Katrine
Greene, Kate Lownsborough
Kent, Lucy R.
Robertson, Bessie Beck
Yeager, Mary Bunting
Goldsborough, Mollie Cook
Morris, Mary Carter
Sargent, Cora McCabe
Mullin, Helen E.
Fitzgerald, Alice Louise Florence, 1874-1962
Ross, Georgina
Gilman, Martha Ellison
Rosser, Mary Jane
Claude, Dorcas Jamieson
Chambers, Ina F.
Lawler, Elsie M.
Barnes, Sara N.
Erskine, Helen Mar
Wadland, Helen A.
Musson, Ida Green
Smead, Cora Baker
Rushmore, Alice Dammann
McQuaide, Frances Thornton
Geddes, Elizabeth
D'Espard. Lillian M.
Steelman, Katherine
Nursing students--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Nurses--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Graduation ceremonies--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Portrait photographs
Group portraits
Notes: Photographer unknown.
Number:
163423
Date created:
1902
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.75 in.
Back row: 1) L. Gosman, B. Richardson, Miss Lawler, L. Jack, E. Dick, R. Adamson;
Middle row: M. Brogden, M. Brent, G. Rising, E. Carson, M. Harrell, S. Merrill, F. Manson, M. Hoyt, M. Carey, H. McDonald, A. Goodsill, E. Baker;
Front row: F. Tuthill, C. Gaddis, L. Riggs, L. Bryden, Miss Nutting, Miss Ross, L. Bidle, M. Jamme, M. Boyer, L. Granjean, E. La Motte;
Tight center front: A. Whitman, B. Baker
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital School of Nursing--People
Adamson, Ruth
Baker, Bessie
Rand, Elizabeth Baker
Cator, Mabel Virginia Bent
Biddle, Lydia
Lewis, M. Eleanor Boyer
Brogden, Margaret Smith
Bryden, Lucy A.
Baetjer, Mary Carey
Wilder, Edith Carson
Dick, Eliza M.
Gaddis, Carrie
Slemons, Anna Goodsill
Gosman, Lida H.
Grandjean, Laura
Harrell, Maud
Hoyt, Margaret Bliss
Jack, Louisa
Jamme, Marie
LaMotte, Ellen N.
Macdonald, Helen Ross
Burnham, Florence Manson
Winne Jr, Sarah Foster Merrill
Richardson, Bessie M.
Follis, Louisa Riggs
Rising, Grace B.
Boyer, Florence Tuthill
Taylor, Alice Witman
Lawler, Elsie M.
Nutting, M. Adelaide (Mary Adelaide), 1858-1948
Ross, Georgina
Nursing students--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Nurses--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Graduation ceremonies--Maryland--Baltimore--1900-1910
Portrait photographs
Group portraits
Notes: Photographer unknown.
Number:
179580
Date created:
1981
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Description:
Front row, from left to right: 1) Kipp; 2) Elias; 3) Hummell; 4) Yeager; 5) Littlefield; 6) Biller; 7) Fitzpatrick; 8) Graham.
Second row, from left to right: 1) Taylor; 2) Brennan; 3) K. Bender; 4) Bailowitz; 5) Zuckerman; 6) Farmer; 7) Israel; 8) Hutton.
Third row, form left to right: 1) Kayne; 2) Fivush; 3) Murphy; 4) Karlowicz; 5) Saba; 6) Lederman; 7) Klein; 8) Buchanan; 9) Babcock.
Fourth row, from left to right: 1) Hudak; 2) Nolan; 3) Dietrich; 4) Silber; 5) Thuma; 6) Kessler; 7) Glazier.
Fifth row, from left to right: 1) Eiden; 2) Santana; 3) Fahey.
Sixth row: 1) Rekedal; 2) Epple; 3) Krilov; 4) Barbosa.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital. Department of Pediatrics--People
Kipp, David F.
Elias, Ellen R.
Hummell, Donna M Sedlak
Yeager, Andrew Michael
Littlefield, John W.
Biller, Jeffrey Allan
Fitzpatrick, Kathleen M.
Graham, Janet E.
Taylor, George A.
Brennan, Teresa Lynch
Bender, Karen S.
Bailowitz, Anne
Zuckerman, Andrea L.
Farmer, Mychelle Y.
Israel, Esther Jacobowitz
Hutton, Nancy
Kayne, Richard David
Fivush, Barbara A.
Murphy, Mary J.
Karlowicz, Mitchell Gerard
Saba, Norman Morris
Lederman, Howard M.
Klein, Bruce S.
Buchanan, Donald E.
Babcock, Debra A.
Hudak, Mark Lawrence
Nolan, Robert J.
Dietrich, Richard Laroy
Silber, Jeffrey Howard
Thuma, Philip E.
Kessler, David A.
Glazier, Arnold
Eiden, Joseph J.
Santana, Victor M.
Fahey, John T.
Rekedal, Kirby D.
Epple, Lawrence King Jr.
Krilov, Leonard R.
Barbosa, Ernest
Pediatricians
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
Notes: Photographer unknown.
Number:
179571
Date created:
1979
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Description:
Front row, from left to right: 1) Casella; 2) Hackell; 3) Stokes; 4) Talamo; 5) Kurlandsky; 6) Waber; 7) Biller.
Second row, from left to right: 1) Barnett; 2) Hall; 3) Siegel; 4) Fivush; 5) Allen; 6) Vallone.
Third row, form left to right: 1) Taylor; 2) Tellerman; 3) Quinn; 4) Shinnar; 5) Jabs; 6) Murphy; 7) Cohen; 8) Corrall.
Fourth row, from left to right: 1) McGrath; 2) Klein; 3)Fox; 4) Smith; 5) Schanck; 6) Schapiro; 7) Krilov.
Fifth row, from left to right: 1) Buescher; 2) Whitner; 3) Wallach; 4) Harper; 5) Bender; 6) Karlowicz; 7) Brennan.
Sixth row, from left to right: 1) Cohen; 2) Ferry; 3) Wang; 4) Clarke.
Seventh row, from left to right: 1) Lederman; 2) Cole; 3) Fremion.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital. Department of Pediatrics--People
Casella, James
Hackell, Jesse Michael
Stokes, Dennis C.
Talamo, Richard C
Kurlandsky, Lawrence E.
Waber, Lewis J.
Biller, Jeffrey Allan
Barnett, Nancy K.
Hall, David E.
Siegel, David B.
Fivush, Barbara A.
Allen, Marilee Christine
Vallone, Ambrose Martin
Taylor, George A.
Tellerman, Kenneth H.
Quinn, Patricia Luise Haber
Shinnar, Shlomo
Jabs, Ethylin W.
Murphy, Mary E.
Cohen, Bernard A.
Corrall, C. James II
McGrath, Susan Claire
Klein, Bruce S.
Fox, Claude E.
Smith, Ann T.
Schanck, Carolyn A.
Schapiro, Mark B.
Krilov, Leonard R.
Buescher, Edward Stephen
Whitner, Michael S.
Wallach, Daniel E.
Harper, Thomas Edwin
Bender, John W.
Karlowicz, Mitchell Gerard
Brennan, Teresa Lynch
Cohen, Mitchell B.
Ferry, Francis T.
Wang, San Y.
Clarke, Douglas V.
Lederman, Howard M.
Cole, Cynthia H.
Fremion, Amy S.
Pediatricians
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
Notes: Photographer unknown.
Map illustrating the extent of coastal eutrophication and hypoxia in Europe including the Baltic Sea, Black Sea, Caspian Sea, and the Mediterranean. Each point represents an individual system experiencing either primary or secondary eutrophication symptoms, hypoxic (low oxygen) conditions in the water column, or where conditions are considered to be improving.
The Buchan Link underwent some changes on Monday (August 29th).
The first has seen the extention of two departures each way from Union Square south to Altens on weekdays offering an express route direct to Altens from Union St (via Union Sq).
The second has been the splitting of the Buchan Link services in two with services registered to run Aberdeen to Ellon and the Ellon to either Peterhead or Fraserburgh. Passengers do not need to transfer buses and the same service number is used for both sections. However it does mean that buses departing from Aberdeen will now only show Ellon as the ultimate destination with Peterhead or Fraseburgh scrolling in smaller letters below in between other via points.
Panther 54064 heads north past Tullos depot on its way to Ellon as a 260 where it will then become a 260 to Peterhead.
To what extent can media companies employ predictive analytics and other data driven approaches to improve content performance? This event, organized by NYC Media Lab and hosted by Bloomberg on February 25, fused short 5 minute presentations and discussion from startups, media companies and university researchers advancing the state of the art in a variety show intended to provoke discussion and debate on opportunities in this fast-moving field of interest.
Speakers included Brian Eoff, Lead Data Scientist, bitly; Ky Harlin, Director, Data Science, BuzzFeed; Mor Naaman, Associate Professor, Cornell Tech and Co-founder and Chief Scientist, Seen.co; Simon Smith, Senior Vice President, Platforms, News Corp; Joshua Schwartz, Lead Data Scientist, Chartbeat.com; and Lisa Strausfeld, Global Head of Data Visualization, Bloomberg LP.
Photos by Yang Jiang.
Learn more about NYC Media Lab at www.nycmedialab.org.
Number:
164481
Creator:
Hughes Company
Date created:
1956-06-08
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 8 x 10 in.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Church Home and Hospital (Baltimore, Md.). School of Nursing
Ankrom, Cena Jane
Aus, Anna Elizabeth
Black, Gloria Ann
Bosley, Constance Ann
Curley, Eileen Dorothy
D'Apolito, Madeline T.
Donaldson, Pearl Elsie
Eichler, Mary Lou
Ferro, Gloria Marie
Fitzberger, Audrey Dorothea
Fullarton, Jean Margaret
Frank, Lois Ann
Humbert, Julia May
Jackson, Mary Lou
Jenness, Loretta Mae
La Bonte, Victoria Blanch
McClellan, Marilyn Legate
Malloy, Elizabeth Jane
Malloy, Marjorie Ann
Miller, Margaret Ann
Perkins, Mary Frances
Peterson, Patricia Lane
Roloff, Evelyn Wilberta
Snellings, June Lee
Spangler, Joyce Romaine
Swinter, Beverly Elaine
Tamassia, Carolyn Shirley
Teabo, Joan Dolores
von Rinteln, Alice Elizabeth
Wells, Bonnie Lee
Whittington, Dorothy Louise
Zero, Virginia Lee
Creutzburg, Freda Lewis, 1898-1963
Nursing students--Maryland--Baltimore--1950-1960
Graduation ceremonies--Maryland--Baltimore--1950-1960
Nurses--Maryland--Baltimore--1950-1960
Nursing schools--Faculty
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
hard working at weekend #eyelashes #extention #beauty #makeup #leemee #inhomeservice #sacramento #Davis #individuallashes #natural #cheapprice .#individual #lashes lovely customer today in Sacramento . call me to make appt curl 15, thickness 0.15
This image belongs to a series of motor vehicle photographs that do not contain owners or people with the vehicles. Therefore, they do not fall completely within the requirement of my 'Family Car' collection.
I thought however that somebody might like to see the rejects.
They have not been cleaned or restored to the extent of the primary collections, and they will not be placed in any Flickr groups.
If any images receive sufficient 'hits', I will consider cleaning them up for a more public release.
To see more of these 'Uncleaned' images, please go here
www.flickr.com/photos/69559277@N04/sets/72157644652157157/
Reproduced from the original negative in my collection.
To what extent can media companies employ predictive analytics and other data driven approaches to improve content performance? This event, organized by NYC Media Lab and hosted by Bloomberg on February 25, fused short 5 minute presentations and discussion from startups, media companies and university researchers advancing the state of the art in a variety show intended to provoke discussion and debate on opportunities in this fast-moving field of interest.
Speakers included Brian Eoff, Lead Data Scientist, bitly; Ky Harlin, Director, Data Science, BuzzFeed; Mor Naaman, Associate Professor, Cornell Tech and Co-founder and Chief Scientist, Seen.co; Simon Smith, Senior Vice President, Platforms, News Corp; Joshua Schwartz, Lead Data Scientist, Chartbeat.com; and Lisa Strausfeld, Global Head of Data Visualization, Bloomberg LP.
Photos by Yang Jiang.
Learn more about NYC Media Lab at www.nycmedialab.org.
The extent to which DRM style enforcement can be carried out by just asking. Also, free wifi on national express trains. Nice.
To what extent can media companies employ predictive analytics and other data driven approaches to improve content performance? This event, organized by NYC Media Lab and hosted by Bloomberg on February 25, fused short 5 minute presentations and discussion from startups, media companies and university researchers advancing the state of the art in a variety show intended to provoke discussion and debate on opportunities in this fast-moving field of interest.
Speakers included Brian Eoff, Lead Data Scientist, bitly; Ky Harlin, Director, Data Science, BuzzFeed; Mor Naaman, Associate Professor, Cornell Tech and Co-founder and Chief Scientist, Seen.co; Simon Smith, Senior Vice President, Platforms, News Corp; Joshua Schwartz, Lead Data Scientist, Chartbeat.com; and Lisa Strausfeld, Global Head of Data Visualization, Bloomberg LP.
Photos by Yang Jiang.
Learn more about NYC Media Lab at www.nycmedialab.org.
The complex of 14 shops & hotel was built in stages 1880-83 for SA Company, architect William McMinn. The western section opened Sep 1909 as Malcolm Reid’s furniture store after extensive alterations to previous warehouse of Charles Segar, taking over adjoining premises of W Storrie when they closed 1916. The company was later managed by his sons, closed. The first section of complex was the hotel on corner of Bent St, opened as Cohen’s Family Hotel, later renamed Astral 1898.
Malcolm Donald Reid had opened a timber business at Port Adelaide 1882. By 1892 he had expanded to Broken Hill NSW and Franklin St, city. Opening a store in Rundle Street 1892, he extended his trade from timber & iron to furniture. In 1902 he set up a timber business in Johannesburg, South Africa to be run by his son.
“Another large warehouse is to be added to the number of fine buildings which have recently been erected in Rundle-street. Messrs. Malcolm Reid and Co., household furnishers, have found that their business has expanded to such an extent that it necessitates the keeping of a large and varied stock, so that their present premises in Franklin-street have-grown much too small for its requirements.” [Kapunda Herald 26 Feb 1909]
“Messrs. Malcolm Reid & Co., having secured possession of the handsome warehouse in Rundle-street next to the establishment of Messrs. Foy & Gibson, practically rebuilt the premises, and it is now open to the public. A spacious and lofty basement the full size of the block — 66 ft. by 120 ft. — was excavated, and the superstructure was so enlarged as to give double the accommodation previously available, every inch of space being utilised. The result is that they are now in occupation of the largest furniture emporium in Adelaide, which, on its four floors, gives an area of nearly an acre for the display of their wonderful stock of up-to-date furniture.” [Advertiser 14 Sep 1909]
“The departments included in the business of Messrs. Malcolm Reid & Co. are: — Furniture and pianos; carpets and linoleums; ironmongery; mantelpieces and grates; crockery and glassware; electroplate and brushware; drapery; saddlery and harness; buggies and drays. The warehouse is now open for inspection, and during Show week the firm hope to receive visits from thousands of country people.” [Chronicle 18 Sep 1909]
“business has increased so rapidly that alterations and extensions have been necessitated. The eastern portion of the premises has been cleared of ironmongery and crockery, in order to make room for a fine stock of drapery and allied goods, and the crockery and ironware have been removed to the basement. . . So far as Australia is concerned it is quite a novelty in the art of shopkeeping. It is called the model room system. The top floor, which may be reached either by a wide and easy staircase or an electric lift, consists of 21 apartments, which are furnished as bedrooms, drawing-rooms, kitchens, music-rooms, boudoirs, smoking-rooms, sitting-rooms, dining-rooms, and bathrooms.” [Daily Herald 30 Apr 1910]
“Mr. Malcolm D. Reid. . . was born at Fort Adelaide in 1857, and was educated at Martin's Academy, Alberton. His first engagement was as a clerk with Messrs. D. & J. Fowler, but later he obtained a position with a local builder. . . [to Broken Hill] and opened a business. As wood and iron were required in big quantities. . . Leaving the Broken Hill business in charge of his brother, Mr. Tom Reid, Mr. Malcolm Reid came to Adelaide and established a timber business in Franklin street, but, with the advent of Federation, business became so bad in Adelaide that he went to South Africa in 1902. . . He started as a timber merchant in Johannesburg, under the name of Malcolm Reid and Son. . . in 1909 returned to Adelaide with three of his sons, Messrs. Harold, Reg, and Douglas Reid, who opened business as timber merchants, under the title of Reid Brothers. Two years later Mr. Malcolm Reid floated the present business of Malcolm Reid and Co., wholesale furnishers. . . returned to South Africa in 1919. . . returned to South Australia in 1923. . . alderman of the Adelaide City Council. . . Mr. Reid left a widow — his first wife died at Marseilles in 1923 — six sons and one daughter. They are:— Messrs. Malcolm Reid (proprietor of the Globe Timber Mills). Harold Reid (Reid Bros.), Sidney Reid (manager for Sir Sidney Kidman), Douglas Reid (Vanderfield & Reid, timber merchants, Sydney), Clifford and Arnold Reid (Malcolm Reid & Co.. Adelaide), and Miss Rosa Reid (Adelaide). Another son, Mr. Reg Reid, was killed in the war.” [Advertiser 17 Mar 1933]
“Malcolm Reid & Co. Ltd., Adelaide furnishers, is raising its ordinary dividend from 4/ to 5/ for the year to August. [Advertiser 30 Oct 1954]
MALCOLM REID’S ORIGINAL BUSINESS
“New timber yard started in St. Vincent-street, Port Adelaide, by Messrs. Malcolm Reid & Co.” [Port Adelaide News 3 Nov 1882]
“New Timber Yard, St. Vincent-Street, Port Adelaide. Malcolm Reid & Co. . . have commenced business. . . Deals, Cedar, Jarrah, Oregon Flooring and Weather Boards, Palings, V.D.L. Hardwood, Doors, Sashes, Frames, Skirtings, Mouldings, Galvanized Iron, Guttering, Ridging, Ironmongery, Cement, &c.” [Advertiser 10 Nov 1882 advert]
“Malcolm Reid, late Reid & Emes, Timber Merchants, Port Adelaide, Franklin-street, near Post-Office, Adelaide, and at Broken Hill. Timber of Every Description for Builders, Joiners, Wheelwrights, Cabinetmakers, always on Hand. Country Orders Promptly Attended to. Mouldings, Turnery, Doors, Windows, and Joinery.” [Evening Journal 4 Dec 1890 advert]
“Most people of the Barrier have long since discovered that Malcolm Reid's is the best house for timber, furniture, and ironmongery.” [Barrier Miner, Broken Hill 9 Dec 1890]
“Mr. Malcolm Reid's tender for additions to the Broken Hill Courthouse has been accepted.” [Barrier Miner, Broken Hill 19 Mar 1891]
“Mr. Malcolm Reid's tender for the erection of an infants' school. Central Broken Hill, has been accepted. The additions will give considerably more accommodation than is at present available at the school.” [Barrier Miner, Broken Hill 11 Apr 1891]
“The Council of the Zoological Gardens has long recognised the necessity for the erection of one house in which to place the monkeys. . . Messrs. D. Garlick & Son are the architects for the building, and Mr. Malcolm Reid has secured the contract for £640.” [Barrier Miner, Broken Hill 27 Apr 1891]
“It was only a week or two ago that the ‘Miner’ had to record a disastrous fire, which resulted in the destruction of a great portion of the premises and stock-in-trade of Mr. Malcolm Reid, timber merchant, Argent and Blende streets. A visit to the site to-day shows how much a little energy may accomplish in a short space of time. A new workshop has been erected and the large stock of frames, window-sashes, &c. which was burned is now almost entirely replaced. A large store shed — the forerunner of a range of this class of building to extend from Blende-street to the lane-has been erected, and is stocked with immense tiers of oregon, pine and deal for building purposes, cedar for sash and door work, and jarrah for heavy and underground work.” [Barrier Miner, Broken Hill 1 Jul 1891]
“Mr. Malcolm Reid, the well-known timber merchant of. Port Adelaide, Adelaide, and Broken Hill, has given to Mr. E. Hounslow (the Seamen's missionary) for distribution among the poor of Port Adelaide, a number of tickets which will entitle the holders to receive goods of the value named on the cards.” [Register 23 Dec 1891]
“Mr. Malcolm Reid, who for the last ten years has carried on an extensive trade as a timber merchant, has recently embarked in the furniture business. For the past four years this has been a part of the firm's operations at their branch at Broken Hill. . . Some six months ago, in order to test the market, premises were taken in Rundle-street on a short lease, and the result was so encouraging that large premises, formerly occupied by Mr. C. Segar in Rundle street, have been obtained on a long lease, and fitted up as a first-class furniture warehouse.” [Advertiser 20 Aug 1892]
“Malcolm Reid & Co. . . furniture establishment in Rundle-street. . . get the timber direct from the forest for their work, and having their own sawmills and a kiln for drying timber they pride themselves upon the seasoning of the material used in the manufacture of their goods. One of their specialities is the manufacture of furniture of new designs.” [Register 24 Dec 1892]
“Chief among the business houses in the colony is that of Mr. Malcolm Reid, who has timber yards at Adelaide, Port Adelaide, and Broken Hill, and furniture warehouses at Adelaide and the Barrier. . . despite all the talk of depression he has not reduced the number of hands in his employ, but maintains his full staff — namely, 100 employes. Ten years ago Mr. Reid started in business as a timber merchant at Port Adelaide, and here it is that the bulk of the machinery of the firm is in operation. . . Five years ago Mr. Reid started a branch at Broken Hill, and he can claim to have built more of the important buildings in the great Silver city than any other firm. . . Two or three years ago he commenced business in Franklin street, securing those large and commodious premises formerly occupied by Messrs. C. Farr & Co. close to the General Post Office. . . Twelve months ago Mr. Reid started out in a new line in the form of a furniture business in Rundle-street, and he found such rapid progress was made that it was necessary to send an order to England for a new plant. With this he will be able to make doors that were formerly imported from America. . . He intends to manufacture all classes of furniture, and the introduction of the joinery plant will enable him to beat the cheaply-made Chinese goods out of the market.” [Advertiser 30 Mar 1893]
“Mr. Malcolm Reid is still in Johannesburg, where he is establishing his son in business as a timber merchant.” [Advertiser 24 Sep 1903]
“Mr. Malcolm Reid, the well-known timber merchant, formerly of Adelaide and Port Adelaide, who returned from South Africa on Monday. . . has established his sons in the timber business in Johannesburg, states that the Transvaal has been making steady progress towards recovery since the end of the war. Work is being rapidly resumed at all the mines. . . The agricultural industry received a set back during the war with the natural consequence that the price of all agricultural produce is very high. The bulk of the food supplies is imported in a frozen state. . . Mr. Reid considers that there is a good market in South Africa for Australian produce, more particularly for fresh and preserved fruits.” [Register 14 Dec 1904]
“received from Malcolm Reid and Co., the well-known Adelaide Furnishers, a copy of their latest Catalogue, a profusely illustrated compilation of 144 pages, including a carefully arranged index. The list of Household Requirements pictorially represented is of so all-embracing a character that persons about to furnish either a cottage or a mansion, or to make the constant additions required by the already settled householder, can hardly fail to be suited after a glance through these attractive pages. Particularly will the book be valuable to farmers and country residents” [Evening Journal 30 Apr 1908]
“Mr. Malcolm Reid, and his wife and three sons, returned to Adelaide on Monday from England. They intend to settle down here. Mr. Reid still has business interests in South Africa, which he has left in the care of his sons. Three years have elapsed since he left Australia, two and a half years of which he spent in London.” [Advertiser 15 Sep 1908]
To what extent can media companies employ predictive analytics and other data driven approaches to improve content performance? This event, organized by NYC Media Lab and hosted by Bloomberg on February 25, fused short 5 minute presentations and discussion from startups, media companies and university researchers advancing the state of the art in a variety show intended to provoke discussion and debate on opportunities in this fast-moving field of interest.
Speakers included Brian Eoff, Lead Data Scientist, bitly; Ky Harlin, Director, Data Science, BuzzFeed; Mor Naaman, Associate Professor, Cornell Tech and Co-founder and Chief Scientist, Seen.co; Simon Smith, Senior Vice President, Platforms, News Corp; Joshua Schwartz, Lead Data Scientist, Chartbeat.com; and Lisa Strausfeld, Global Head of Data Visualization, Bloomberg LP.
Photos by Yang Jiang.
Learn more about NYC Media Lab at www.nycmedialab.org.
Number:
178315
Date created:
1933
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Description:
Front row: 1) Paul G. Shipley; 2) [unknown]; 3) L. Emmett Holt.
Second row: 1) [unknown]; 2) David H. Shelling; 3) Hugh W. Josephs; 4) Harriet Guild; 5) Laslo Kajdi; 6) Edward Bridge.
Third row: 1) M.S. Hecht; 2) Alice D. Chenoweth; 3) T. F. McNair Scott; 4) Alexander J. Shaffer; 5) Robert L. Munroe; 6) George Parry; 7) Arthur Ward.
Fourth row: 1) John A. Wasington; 2) Hoffman; 3) Helen Taussig; 4) Horace L. Hodes; 5) E.M.R.
Fifth row: 1) R.T. Myers; 2) Herbert C. Tidwell; 3) Perlina Winocur; 4) I. Nachlas.
Sixth row: 1) Harold Blumberg; 2) [unknown]; 3) [unknown]; 4) L. Luth; 5) Miriam Brailey; 6) H.D. Lepp; 7) Crystal Caldwell.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital. Department of Pediatrics--People
Pediatricians
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
Shipley, Paul G.
Holt, L. Emmett (Luther Emmett),
Shelling, David
Josephs, Hugh W.
Scott, T. F. McNair
Alexander J. Shaffer
Guild, Harriet Griggs
Kajdi, L.
Bridge, Edward M.
Hecht Jr., M.
Chenoweth, Alice
Ward, Arthur T. Jr.
Taussig, Helen
Hodes, Horace
Washington, John A.
Tidwell, H.C.
Winocur, P
Nachlas, I. William
Blumberg, Harold
Brailey, Miriam
Caldwell, Crystal
Notes: Photographer unknown.
Cabo da Roca (Cape Roca) is a cape which forms the westernmost extent of mainland Portugal and continental Europe (and by definition the Eurasian land mass). The cape is in the Portuguese municipality of Sintra, west of the district of Lisbon, forming the westernmost extent of the Serra de Sintra
Number:
171934
Date created:
1898
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Back row: 1) H. VanDenBerg; 2) M. O'Grady; 3) G. Derickson; 4) N. Holman; 5) H. Washington; 6) A. Henderson.
Third row from front: 1) E. Lawler; 2) J. Johnston; 3) K. Aubrey; 4) K. Fitch; 5) F. Pratt; 6) M. McKinnon; 7) J. Coffin; 8) A. Anderton.
Second row from front: 1) C. Dick; 2) F. Ames; 3) G. Guyton; 4) M. Watts; 5) E. Bent; 6) F. Hunt; 7) E. Hein; 8) F. Colburn.
Between front and second rows: 1) M. Sullivan, 2) H. Wadsworth; 3) L. Steffens.
Front row: 1) V. Rice; 2) A. Merwin; 3) E. Corwin; 4) E. Hughes; 5) A. Frankel; 6) J. McCallum; 7) T. Poe.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital School of Nursing--People
Johns Hopkins Hospital. School of Nursing--Rites & ceremonies
Anderton, Alice Maud
Johnston, Katherine Aubrey
Hein, Elizabeth
Allen, Jeanette Johnston
Pratt, Frances L.
Randall, Frances Ames
Bent, Edith
Coffin, Josephine
Colburn, Florence P.
Griffith, Edith Corwin
Trowbridge, Grace Derickson
Dick, Christina
Fitch, Katharine
Hernsheim, Alice Frankel
Kempter, Grace Guyton
Henderson, Adele F.
Holman, Nora Kathleen
Steele, Elsie Hughes
Hunt, Florence A.
Lawler, Elsie M.
McCallum, Jessie
Ellis, Margaret McKinnon
Birdseye, Alice Merwin
O'Grady, Margaret
Rice, Virginia
Suggett, Louise Steffens
Sullivan, Mary V.
Van den Berg, Henrietta
Adams, Helen Wadsworth
Washington, Hallie Lee
Watts, Marion
Nursing students--Maryland--Baltimore--1890-1900
Nurses--Maryland--Baltimore--1890-1900
Graduation ceremonies--Maryland--Baltimore--1890-1900
Portrait photographs
Group portraits
Notes: Photographer unknown.
Image showing the current extent of the Greenland ice sheet (cyan colour) as captured by EUMETSAT’s Metop-A satellite on 22/08/12 at 14:13 UTC.
Copyright: 2012 EUMETSAT
Shows the extent of the four levels or horizons of canals ( two lower ones shown only as 'lower canals'). The green for the upper level north of Walkden is a bit faint, you'll have to zoom in. 52 miles in total, easily the largest system of its kind in the world. Note the Chaddock level, uncovered in the 1990's, yes I did photograph it
Number:
179791
Date created:
1970
Extent:
1 photographic print : gelatin silver ; 7.5 x 9.5 in.
Description:
Front row, from left to right: 1) Valle; 2) Thompson; 3) Rachelefsky; 4) Debuskey; 5) Cooke; 6) Jones; 7) Fost; 8) Headings.
Second row, from left to right: 1) Hanson; 2) Pettegrew; 3) Hyde; 4) Hall; 5) Alter; 6) Coy;e; 7) Gruppo; 8) Livingston.
Third row, form left to right: 1) Kesler; 2) Vangrov; 3) Mishra; 4) Davick; 5) Simon; 6) Chesney.
Fourth row, from left to right: 1) Bartholome; 2) Neidengard; 3) Peterson; 4) Tardo; 5) Smith.
Fifth row, from left to right: 1) Arnold; 2) Kerr; 3) Waller; 4) Barakat; 5) Sightler; 6) Kelly; 7) Thoene.
Sixth row, from left to right: 1) Barnett; 2) Roberts; 3) Ey; 4) Lewis.
Rights:
Photograph is subject to copyright restrictions. Contact the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives for reproduction permissions.
Subjects:
Johns Hopkins Hospital. Department of Pediatrics--People
Valle, David
Thompson, Robert G.
Rachelefsky, Gary S.
Cooke, Robert E.
Jones, Kenneth L.
Fost, Norman C.
Headings, Dennis L.
Hanson, James W.
Pettegrew, Jay W.
Hyde, Thomas P.
Mandik, Judith (Judi)
Alter, Blanche P.
Coyle, Joseph Thomas Jr.
Gruppo, Ralph A.
Livingston, James M.
Kesler, Richard W.
Vangrov, Jan S.
Mishra, Baruni
Davick, Alan M.
Simon, Frank A.
Chesney, Russell W.
Bartholome, William G.
Neidengard, Lee
Peterson, Douglas B.
Tardo, Carmela L.
Smith, Sara Watt
Arnold, Jack E.
Kerr, Douglas S.
Waller, David A.
Barakat, Amin Y.
Sightler, James H.
Kelly, P. Colin
Thoene, Jess G.
Barnett, Stephen T.
Roberts, Kenneth B.
Ey, John Leigh
Lewis, Darrell V. Jr.
Pediatricians
Group portraits
Portrait photographs
Notes: Photographer unknown.
As I have said previously, I used to travel from Lowestoft to Bungay every day for over 5 years; sometimes by car, but for the last three years by coach.
The coach used to pick up at various places, and once we had left Beccles we used to pick up at the bottom of the hill from the short stretch of dual carriageway and again at the main part of the village, where the church was.
I used to think, even back in the 80s, that Barsham was a fine location for a church: down a private lane where where the vicarage and church are. I thought this really was private, and so never did go for a look.
And so on my only full day in the area, Barsham was once church I really did want to visit, and so taking the now much quieter road out of Beccles and slowing down for the turn to the church.
In the 25 years since I last traveled the road to work, the trees have grown even larger, to the extent the church is all but invisible from the road now, well in summer for sure.
The church is still hidden as I approached, hidden behind a line of trees, but the round tower could be seen over the top of the lych gate.
Inside, there was bunting, a Nelson connection, and two of the wardens were doing the weekly cleaning, and were very chatty, but polite enough to let me get on with my snapping.
----------------------------------------------------------
e decided to spend the day visiting the churches of the Lothingland peninsula, but it had taken less time than I'd thought it would. Some of the churches that we'd expected to find locked were open, but none of the ones that were locked had keyholders. The ones on the Suffolk side of the border were open, as you'd expect, but we were also pleased to find the Norfolk churches of Fritton and Bradwell open to strangers and pilgrims. The grim parish church at dismal Hopton was padlocked up to the eyeballs, and the graffiti-stricken Belton church appeared to have been completely abandoned, a ruin in the making. It was with some relief that we decided to head back south into gentle Suffolk - the alternative, leaving the peninsula via Yarmouth, was too awful a prospect to contemplate.
Where to go next? I hadn't been to Barnby or North Cove for a number of years, and so I suggested that we take a look there. Both churches have no less than three keyholders each, but at each church not a single one of them answered the phone - perhaps they were all at a keyholders' conference or something.
Inevitably then, my thoughts turned to Barsham, a bit further down the road on the other side of Beccles. Barnby and North Cove straddle the A146, a rat-run between Bungay and the sea. It is not a road a cyclist should spend any amount of time on. But the Church of the Most Holy Trinity is gorgeous in its setting across a meadow from the road. Once in its pretty churchyard, the sound of the traffic is left behind. The splendid former rectory slumbers just beyond the fence. This was one of Suffolk's great Anglo-catholic shrines, and generations of visitors have made the same journey as we were making. And even before that extraordinary movement reared its head, this parish touched the world in a significant way, at least once.
The exterior of this building is the most beautiful of any small church in Suffolk. I dare say that the setting was even more idyllic before the elm trees which Arthur Mee saw here in the 1930s were lost to Dutch Elm disease. The most striking feature is at the east end. Here, like an extension of the window, an extraordinary flint lattice spreads across the face of the wall. It has been variously dated as anything between the early 12th century and the late 19th century; Clive Hart, in his excellent book East Anglian Flushwork, dates it as 16th Century. It is most unusual; there's nothing exactly like it anywhere else in Suffolk, although something rather similar has been picked out in brick on the east wall at Spexhall. Near the south porch sits a memorial to one of the famous names associated with Barsham. Adrian Bell was the finest author to write books about Suffolk in the 20th century, particularly Corduroy and Silver Ley. He was the father of the white-suited former Independent MP, Martin Bell.
Curiously,the tower and nave are not fully joined above head height. There is a window in the west wall of the nave, suggesting that the body of the church here is older than the tower against which it stands - or, more precisely, the west wall is. The Caen stone of the south doorway suggests a post-1066 date for that feature, at least. You step down into a charming, devotional space. The chapel to St Catherine on the north side creates an unusual dynamic, the chancel pressed as it is against the south wall. As elsewhere in Suffolk, much work was done here from the 1870s onwards. The restoring architect was Charles Kempe, best known these days for the glass he produced in vast volume.
Kempe had a number of assistants during his long career, two of whom would have a part to play in the story of this church. One was Frederick Eden, who would return here at the start of the new century and furnish this understated, devotional shrine. His loving and meticulous attention to detail is ultimately what, internally at least, makes Holy Trinity the church it is today. He was responsible for the rebuilding and furnishing of the chapel of St Catherine in 1908. He found a Norman font bowl under the chapel floorboards, which is now on display there. Also his are the communion rails, the sanctuary carpet, the aumbry, the war memorial and even the lychgate outside. Most important of all, however, is the glass, which is almost all his.
The other Kempe apprentice was the young Ninian Comper, that flamboyant Anglo-catholic, whose finest hour, in East Anglia at least, would come up the road at Lound. The church guide quotes a letter which the nineteen year old Comper wrote to his mother from Barsham rectory on Good Friday 1883: Dearest Mother mine, it is a lovely place - a sweet rectory in the midst of splendid trees & the little church almost touching the house. There is a curious East window all in diamond tracery down to the cill and most of the diamonds contain a Saint or Angel painted by my master so I feel at home. And there is a pretty Elizabethan screen, done up & supplied with a rood and iron gates by my master also. Mr Williams is what I call a regular thorough priest and not a rector or a clergyman and is much to my mind but Father knows him well, I believe, and so need not try to dwell upon his virtues!
The rood screen is very unusual - again, there's nothing quite like it anywhere else in Suffolk. It is probably Laudian, as at Kedington, having been put up in the 1630s to replace that torn down at the Reformation a century before.The rood, which is not the one Comper saw, and the arch of honour were put up in the 1890s, and painted in 1919. I can't help thinking that the archway has a DIY feel to it, but the little statues are rather sweet. Another unusual feature of the church is the restored low side window in the chancel. The shutter and its hinges were made by a local blacksmith, probably under the supervision of Kempe. The window above shows Jesus healing the ten lepers, a reference to the then-current misguided belief that low side windows had something to do with allowing lepers a view of the altar. This idea has now been entirely discredited, but still the window remains, a memory of the enthusiasm for the medieval in the last years of the 19th century.
A roughly surviving St Christopher wall painting is discernible on the north wall of the nave. These are relatively common in this part of East Anglia, and you probably wouldn't notice this one unless you looked for it. The length of the wall is now taken up with the famious England Expects That Every Man Will Do His Duty signal in flags. There's a good reason for this, as we will see. The George III coat of arms comes from nearby Shipmeadow, now a private house, as do the paschal candlestick and the Jacobean Holy Table in the rebuilt chapel of St Catherine. A simpler memory of the past is the memorial board to Harry Stebbings, gassed in the First World War, which was painted by Arthur Batchelor of Norwich at cost of materials only, according to the Rector of the time. More elaborate is the important terracotta table tomb, one of seven in East Anglia, built from parts manufactured in and shipped from Flanders in the 1520s. It was probably to Sir Edward Etchingham, and it served as an Easter sepulchre. There are also a number of floor brasses and ledger stones. The 'rectors and patrons' board was salvaged from a Catholic church in Norwich, presumably the Jesuit chapel in Willow Lane.
On the 8th of February 1906, lightning struck the east end of the church, destroying the stonework of the east window and smashing the medieval mensa which had been reinstalled on the high altar. The fund raised to repair this damage also paid for the building of the north aisle as the chapel of St Catherine. In 1979, a fire destroyed the nave roof, and scorch marks caused by fallen clumps of smouldering straw can still be seen on several benches.
There are a number of Suffolk churches where a dynasty of vicars has handed the living down through the generations. Most famous, perhaps, are the Wallers at Waldringfield, where present rector John Waller is fourth in an unbroken line stretching back to the 1850s.
But here at Barsham, the situation is illustrated in extremis. The Suckling family held the living here from the 17th century right up until the parish was merged into a benefice in the late 20th century. They were the local landed family, and in a position to present themselves to the living on each occasion. This was not unusual, up until the mid-19th century, but the Sucklings carried the tradition beyond that. This was partly by tenaciously bequeathing the property, presentation rights and living to distant cousins when the male line died out, on the condition that the recipient changed his name to Suckling before inheriting. Marriage to a Suckling daughter was another way of qualifying.
But the other thing that ensured this remarkable dynasty's survival was the way they embraced Anglo-catholicism so wholeheartedly, at a time when a career in the Church was increasingly seen as a poor alternative to the fortunes to be made out in the British Empire. They tapped into the energy of the movement in the East End of London, where they also presented livings.
They were particularly associated with the extreme High Church social action movement of the late 19th century, being good friends of Father McKonochie, one of a number of Anglican priests shamefully prosecuted by the Church of England and imprisoned for 'popish practices'. McKonchie retired, a broken man, to Barsham Rectory, before his life ended tragically some five years later. He is remembered by a memorial at the west end of the north aisle here. The Sucklings were also associated with the nearby Anglican convent of All Hallows, at Ditchingham in Norfolk, an institution that scandalised upright Victorian protestants. As at Claydon, the parish priest here suffered vile abuse for his connection with it.
For a few people, this church is a place of pilgrimage for reasons unconnected with its colourful liturgical history. In the 18th century, one of the Suckling daughters grew up to be mother of Admiral Horatio Nelson. In the days when a patriotic pride was taken in the waging of war and advance of imperial adventure, Nelson was considered a great British hero.
Simon Knott, June 2008
To what extent can media companies employ predictive analytics and other data driven approaches to improve content performance? This event, organized by NYC Media Lab and hosted by Bloomberg on February 25, fused short 5 minute presentations and discussion from startups, media companies and university researchers advancing the state of the art in a variety show intended to provoke discussion and debate on opportunities in this fast-moving field of interest.
Speakers included Brian Eoff, Lead Data Scientist, bitly; Ky Harlin, Director, Data Science, BuzzFeed; Mor Naaman, Associate Professor, Cornell Tech and Co-founder and Chief Scientist, Seen.co; Simon Smith, Senior Vice President, Platforms, News Corp; Joshua Schwartz, Lead Data Scientist, Chartbeat.com; and Lisa Strausfeld, Global Head of Data Visualization, Bloomberg LP.
Photos by Yang Jiang.
Learn more about NYC Media Lab at www.nycmedialab.org.