An unknown masterpiece

Sunday morning. I got up at seven and drove to the county town (about thirty miles from my house). The first half of the journey was in torrential rain, which fell from low dark clouds, this giving way to bright morning sunshine as soon as I was up on the heaths.

Arriving at the county town the way was blocked by roadworks and I had to drive south, west and then north before getting to a suburb on the north-east side of the city.

The time was eight-thirty, and being an hour too early I looked around the suburb, taking photographs.

The area was Edwardian “inner city”, and laid out on a steep hillside. On the crest was a garden village of big mansions (built at that point in architectural history when form begins to reflect function, so that the big brick cubes bulged with bay windows, stumpy towers for water tanks and ugly fat drainpipes). Below this ridge of prosperity was a lush wooded park, occupying about half the hillside, and terminating in a little wall-cliff constructed from boulders. Immediately below this wall was a busy road, bisecting the suburb. The other side of this road were public buildings, shops, and large houses (now divided into bedsits and occupied by eastern Europeans). Below the cordon sanitaire of the road streamed vertical streets of terraced houses (if the park was like a Helen Bradley painting, these landscapes were more of a Lowry landscape).



Above: I went into the park and walked up as far as the Grand Terrace which was a wide path that crossed the park horizontally. The trees that lined the Grand Terrace were all different, so that an arboretum was formed. As I walked along the terrace I passed from light to shade to light to shade (this hasn’t really come out in the photograph). The air was fresh after the morning’s rain, and many of the trees were scented (I detected lime, pine, cedar etc). The sun was already very powerful, and it promised to be a hot day. Hardly anyone was about.



Above: Halfway along the Grand Terrace was a flight of steps that led down further into the park. Again, no-one was about. At the foot of the steps was a large statue of a lion.



Above: Close-to the Lion was huge (and you can see someone's dog, to give it perspective). The Lion commemorates the founder who donated the park to the city. An important landscape designer (Edward Milner) had been employed to lay the park out.



Above: I walked round to the left, following the meandering paths. I could see a maze, but didn’t like to go into it (time was getting on). Every kind of tree seemed to be represented in the park.



Above: I came to an ornamental lake. Fountains were gushing. I sat on one of the benches for a while, until it was nine-fifteen.



Above: Across the lake by this bridge. I could see the church in the distance. The peace of the park was disturbed by the noise of the busy road.



Above: The red-brick church of 1904, designed by Fowler (“an unknown masterpiece by an architect at the height of his powers”) and with an interior embellished by Sir Ninian Comper. Incredibly there are no moving cars in this photograph, although the road is a main artery. There are rumours that the Church of England would like to close this church as the site is so valuable (it fills the block between two side roads).

Above: Inside preparations were being made for the nine-thirty service. I was made very welcome – this is one of the friendliest churches I have been to. As I sat down (in the nave, on the right side, I felt I was surrounded by the disinterested love of the doughty ladies bustling about.

The service was (like the architecture of the church) both long and high. Because it was the first Sunday after the Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady the entrance procession made a diversion to censer the statue of the Virgin Mary in the Lady Chapel (in the south aisle). We all said the Hail Mary prayer.

Above: I could see the incense passing through the shafts of light coming in through the clerestory.

Censing of the altars followed, then censing of the choir, and a general censing in the direction of the congregation. The fragrant smoke rose up the full height of the church, past Comper’s beardless Christ on the great Rood. I could see the incense passing through the shafts of light coming in through the clerestory.

The priest taking the High Mass was from the cathedral (presumably the incumbent was on holiday). We sang five hymns, including Charles Wesley’s And Can It Be That I Should Gain. The sermon was long, and delivered from the Desk, not the Pulpit. The visiting priest talked about the “healing renaissance” and regretted the influence from “across the Atlantic” where evangelicals were being too specific and personal about healing. “I’ve no complaint about that” said the Priest (in a loud voice that indicated he had indeed complained about the over-enthusiastic American jellies). But we were referred to Matthew (15) and the priest said the Church should concentrate on the healing of communities rather than individuals.

Although the service was long, the church was so comfortable that you didn’t notice the time passing. The seats were well designed, and there was a sort of upholstered kneeling board so you didn’t have to get absolutely down on the floor. The service had the right combination of visual, musical and textual elements that your mind was always focused.

At the Holy Communion some exceptional silver was used.

Above: Right at the end of the service, the choir is processing off to the right. The Priest is about to leave the altar. The sacred vessels are covered so I felt it was OK to take this photograph.

Above: After the service teas were served at the west end of the church from a sort of neo-Edwardian hatch. Filling the upper half of the west wall was a Jesse Window showing Christ’s descent from David. You can get a good idea of the height of the church (but I haven’t been able to capture the atmosphere, which was one of the most remarkable aspects of the building – perhaps we should consider whether it is possible to “list” atmospheres in the same way it is possible to list architectural features).

Above: The great organ. “Our organist is only fifteen”. I was introduced to the organist who was a young man taller and broader than myself, with sensible glasses and wearing a dark suit.

Above: The memory of past organists is preserved.

Above: I was fascinated by the music cupboard, which seemed untouched since it was first put in.

Above: The matches used to light the altar candles.

Above: Brazen vessels for the flower arrangements – I liked the totality of the church’s design and how every little detail matched the overall scheme of the building.

Above: Sir Ninian Comper’s beautiful side chapel.

Above: Sir Ninian Comper designed the incense thurible.

Above: I was shown the fitted cupboards (designed by Fowler?) which held the richly embroidered copes and chasubles (“They’re all original from the foundation of the church. This white one was made from the silk wedding dress of a lady who was married here and donated her dress fabric to be made into a chasuble. The embroidery work is incredible and is all hand-done”).

Above: The embroidery on this cope is very fine. On the walls of the Sacristy (where the vestments are stored) were pictures of the previous incumbents – the priests wore birettas until the 1960s. The choir vestry next door had been badly damaged by rain following the theft of its lead roof.

Above: I was shown a fitted cupboard with about ten drawers inside. “These are the sets. We’ve even got a canopy.”

Above: This very clumsy photograph is of the enormous fitted cupboard which contains the Edwardian altar frontals. They are hung on movable rails that swing outwards so you can select the right one for a particular Feast Day or celebration. These ones look a bit plain – the most ornate ones have been put at the back, out of harm’s way.

Above: The First World War memorial was in the Lady Chapel. “Do you see that small smudge on the side? The mason originally put his name there as a tiny advertisement. The Father at the time took umbrage and said: Were you killed in the war Mr Stephens… No? Then take your name off the war memorial.”

The hymn And Can It Be: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQeIGbKqiw8