Mersea Island

All pictures taken during my visit to Mersea island.

Mersea Island St Edmund King & Martyr | National Churches Trust

During a recent holiday on Mersea Island with the rest of the family the wife and I attended a Sunday service at the church of St Edmunds in West Mersea - see the picture above. The church is in the South of the Island a few yards from the coast. The island can only be accessed by a causeway subject to periodic tidal flooding. When one alights from the causeway at low tide St Edmunds is on the opposite side of an island which at the widest is about 7 km across.  Although Mersea island is not far from London these circumstances give St Edmunds that cut-off back-of-the-beyond atmosphere, an atmosphere which also pervades Happisburgh and Terice House in Cornwall.

St. Edmund's, Nave and Chancel

The fabric of the church displays evidence of a long history of change, structural improvisations and innovations. The north aisle is separated from the main nave by a colonnade of relatively spindly perpendicular columns; this aisle may well be a lean-too extension constructed post-black-death to accommodate an expanding population; add-on aisles, along with perpendicular replacement windows. are a feature of many rural churches.

St Edmund's disused pulpit

During the service the minister stood in front of the congregation with a lectern as might a minister in a non-conformist church. But in times past the priest would have occupied the old wooden pulpit displaced to one side, which like a sentry box guarded the chancel end of the church, the holy domain of the priesthood and the dispensation point of the holy sacraments. To non-conformists like myself the division between laity and clergy is alien. But that doesn't mean that it is without merit, especially given the feudal context of a largely illiterate and hard worked serf population. For them theology was built into the spatial configuration of the church, in its artwork and of course taught by the literate clergy. The latter was a dangerous undemocratic arrangement, but a lot more social, political and technical development was needed before this could be changed: One wonders if today's evangelical celebrity culture of so-called "anointed" patriarchs is any less dangerous.   

The downsides of the feudal priesthood are offset somewhat by the eloquent symbolism in the fabric & ritual found in these mediaeval churches. The communicant's attention is drawn to the centrality of Christ's sacrificial work, expressed by the positioning of the chancel where the tokens of Christ's sacrificial suffering are celebrated. The rituals in the chancel are assumed to be so holy that only an ordained priest can serve in that area. This practice does cut across the priesthood of all believers (1 Peter 2:9) but it is a far cry from the days of the pagan temples where an image of the divine represented by an idol stood in what is now the chancel. These idols would very likely depict figures of strength, power and glory; the very opposite of what we find in medieval churches which celebrate a self-humbling servant God and the vulnerability & martyrdom of his disciples like St Edmund. 

St Edmund's east-end-stained glass showing
Christ-child, Mary and cross-cultural worshippers

Behind the altar Cross at St Edmunds is the usual large colourful stained-glass window, in this case depicting Mary and her holy baby, the creator of all things (Col 1:15ff) contracted to the humble frame of an infant. This is the omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresence creator who in his desire to serve and save surpassed all conceivable limits of self-denial. Sacrificial self-denial is the central theme of Christianity, and the material fabric and rituals of these old churches attempt to convey this message; but one needs to know how to read it.

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We also visited the church of St Peter and St Paul in West Mersea. This was another lesson in the  meekness of God.  A neat and attractive yew tree lined path leads to the north-door.....

Path leading to St Peter's and St Paul's

The entrance opens up on a clean and well-kept interior....

St Peter's and St Paul's nave and chancel.

Hanging over the entrance to the chancel is a large crucifix...

St Peter's and St Paul's crucifix

This image doesn't wallow in the awful bloody physical realities of crucifixion - if did it would be a distraction. But the pathos of the slumped body of Christ sufficiently conveys what it needs to convey; namely, the passion and compassion of a God who suffers for His creation. These verses in the book of Colossians tells us why....

 For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. (Colossians 1:19-20)

The entrance to the medieval equivalent of the holy of holies, the chancel, is guarded by this image of a suffering God: One should not enter the holy of holies from which the grace of communion is served without cognizance of the Crucifix and what it means. Once one has entered this sacred area one then looks up at the rich stained-glass window of the east-end and sees the glorified risen Christ, clothed in the sumptuous robes of The Only King worthy of the name. (See picture below and also Phil 2:1-11). All this proves that imagery is not necessarily idolatry: An image is idolatrous when it is the depository of a corrupt concept of God; take away the image and the distorted concept of God it represents remains and so does the idolatry. We all have a distorted image of God to a greater or lesser extent, and that's why pointing to Jesus short cuts the risks of the idolatry we are prone to promote; see Hebrews 1:1ff. There is nothing wrong in imagery per se, provided it points us to the express image of Jesus (John 1:18, 5:37, 14:9).

At St Edmunds the east-end-stained-glass depicted Jesus as a
helpless babe-in-arms, but at the east end of St Peter's and
 St Paul's we see a post-cross glorified risen Jesus. 

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In these old churches we see part of the long process of the civilization of a barbaric humanity: Gone were the overbearing easily offended deities of paganism who jealously guarded their power, glory, status and reputation much as a human dictator (e.g. Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin) might. Jesus turned these pagan values on their heads and showed us what Deity, Real Deity was about. The war-like pagans of the northwest miraculously started to celebrate vulnerability, naming their churches after Saints like St Edmund who were martyred for their divine King. Even the Vikings who killed St Edmund eventually Christianized and frequently named their churches after the martyred patron Saint of Sailors, St Clement.  It's a remarkable history, but let's be clear; there is still a very long way to go to complete the civilization of humanity, and both left-wing and right-wing dictatorships are forever waiting in the wings for an opportunity and remain a risk to civilization, and Christianity.   

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Attending the traditional service in the medieval churches of the UK is like going back in time. For me this feeling of time travel was particularly strong during the service at St Edmunds as we read out the age-old liturgy from printed sheets. Medieval congregations would of course not have had printed sheets to read and wouldn't have been able to read them even if they had. In those distant times the laity would have had to recite the liturgy Sunday by Sunday from memory. This, along with the symbolism and imagery in the church, was the way to teach an illiterate peasant congregation about salvation. 

Medieval Christianity was highly authoritarian and top down, but ours is a world of dynamic continuity; the logic of society was such that it wasn't ready for a more politically participatory community. A culture of finite beings can't absorb everything at once but instead goes through a series of learning stages. For human beings the unfolding of revelation is the unfolding of time. Time exists because revelation is necessarily a sequenced affair. The division between laity and clergy is easily abused and was abused in medieval times. But it seems that a pre-renascence, pre-print, illiterate feudal society had little choice but to pass through this primitive stage of social & political development, not to mention the need for the technical developments which were to revolutionize society. 

Of Stones, Stars, Circles, Status, Secrets, Sacredness, Mystique and Masons. Part I

Ancient Neolithic stones march off into the distance 

against the medieval backdrop of Avebury. 

The wife and I recently had a few days holiday in the City of Bath. On the way to Bath we decided to do a short sight seeing tour through Wiltshire. Among England's counties Wiltshire has an unrivaled mystique generated by its reputation for a fascinating mix of UFO sightings and corn circles. On top of this there are the numerous enigmatic ancient monuments, including legendary world heritage sites like Stonehenge and Avebury; in the minds of many these monuments are somehow bound up with those UFOs and corn circles. In previous years we have stopped at West Kennet long barrow, Avebury and even flown a kite with our off-spring on the summit of Silbury hill in the days when you could still climb it. But during those visits we never saw or felt anything of a strange nature,  unless it be the hippy who was soaking up the vibes as he sat in a rather modest looking  corn circle!

This time we decided to stop again at Avebury, a monument which is well worth several visits.  We arrived around 3 pm on a bright but overcast day, weather ideal for this kind of tourist stop.

Avebury: A chocolate box village scene vies with rough hewn stones for camera pixels

Avebury village goes back to medieval times but in comparison with the largely unknown culture which constructed the henge and stone circle during a period of some 500 years well over 4000 years ago, medieval Avebury feels very much like the familiar home culture one has been brought up with and thinks one understands. In any case the strange gnarled old stones of the circle look very anomalous set against the soft grass covered slopes and the chocolate box village. These stones look like alien monoliths dropped from the skies and don't blend in at all, anymore than, say, an electricity pylon or a wind turbine blends in with its idyllic backdrop.

In their day, however, the stones wouldn't have looked at all anomalous given the very different atmosphere and mood conveyed by the magnificent neolithic spectacle that was Avebury. Archaeology has revealed that the original earthworks would have provided a breath taking back drop of brilliant white chalk dazzling the eyes in the sun. Hints of this can be seen in the white tracks on the outer bank worn away by the feet of the many visitors who circumnavigate the site.  In their time the banks and the ditch would have been higher, deeper, steeper and all in gleaming white, bearing no comparison with the smooth green slopes of today.

It is well known that (by definition) henges have an inverted fortification structure. That is, the usual defensive bank and ditch, rather than pointing outwards, point inwards. This immediately suggests that the henge bank was a place of viewing for the rank and file who looked in on the activities inside the circle. In fact this video conjectures that Stanton Drew henge may have been a kind of theatre for blood sports. This is not a theory I have heard before but it is plausible and would explain the inward looking fortification effect; nothing could get out without a struggle; it would in effect be the ultimate ha-ha. However, it is difficult to imagine blood sports taking place in the smaller henge monuments, or at a very large henge enclosure like Avebury as much of the action would be too far away to see. But the general idea of a henge enclosing some kind of spectacle with an audience standing on the perimeter well separated from whatever went on within the circle could well have been the role of all henges.

The ritualistic and religious particulars of henges have, of course, been lost in the mists of time. (Unless some middle eastern traveller has left us a text somewhere). But there are some general conjectures about henges which seem at least plausible if not probable. These monuments must encapsulate the thinking and world view of the neolithic people who built them, a world view that today would probably strike us as otherworldly and supernatural. The environs of Avebury, with its avenues linking it to other monuments and the vicinity of West Kennet long barrow and Silbury hill, has prompted archaeologists to refer to the whole complex as a "Ritual landscape".  I imagine that the farming families on pilgrimage to this complex from their small thatched huts and farms would have been gob smacked by the huge artificial landscape, all garbed in brilliant white, that confronted them. Above all this landscape would have conferred a sense of power, status and mystique upon the aristocracy and/or priesthood which managed it. That power was real at least in the sense that they had enough control of the agrarian labour surplus in order to organise the building and maintenance of this ritual complex. Their power was also real in that their knowledge was genuine: It is clear from the connection that henges and stone circles have with their environment, especially the astronomical environment, that the builders did know something about how the world worked. Moreover, in an agrarian society where everyone's life was so obviously modulated by the beat of the seasons, seasons apparently driven by the configurations in the heavenly vault, this was significant knowledge. In as much as henges and their stones circles encapsulate information about the neolithic perspective on the world they not only look inwards but also outwards towards the cosmic context.

To the plebeians coming to this monument for the first time it must have seemed that its priesthood was surely in touch with the divine. The power of the site resided in the sense of spectacle, mystery and the sheer theatre of it all. A near equivalent in our own culture are the cathedrals of the middle ages which would have taken the breath away of the peasantry and be clear evidence of the aristocracy's and priest's right to rule. Also, I'm reminded of the Victorian Gothic revival and Pugin's attempt to revive the mystique of Catholic power through the sheer intimidating mystery of catholic rituals carried out in the context of lavishly reinterpreted pseudo Gothic churches.

But perhaps an even better modern analogy to the pilgrim's wonder at Avebury may be seen in the visitor to the huge circle of the Large Hadron Collider where we have engineering on an unprecedented scale. Like the circle at Avebury the LHC impresses by its sheer size lending gravitas and status to the techno-scientific elite who have built it, run it and understand it*. As with the neolithic circles the LHC looks both inward and outward by demonstrating that the builders certainly do know a lot about the workings of the cosmos at large. And like the fortified walls of Avebury the LHC has even had its rumour of being a container for potentially dangerous arcane power; there have been conjectures that it might have had the potential to generate a black hole or two, little gateways to unknown dimensions! All this only adds to the wow! effect and glory of its scientific priesthood as they wrestle with dark forces..... well, it would do if it were not for the fact that in these days of reactionary popularism and benighted fundamentalism the ivory tower establishment is less likely to get a blank cheque of kudos! They need to take note of this!

It might be old but engineering on a huge scale will always impress!

 For the priesthood of Avebury spectacle was the name of the game: The monumental level of construction, the dazzlingly white surfaces and the hint of them being responsible for the control of dangerous forces served to inflate the status of the priesthood in the minds of the plebeians. That priesthood need have done little but keep flashing their wares and imagination would have done the rest to keep up the mystique of power and fear of the unknown. Like a huge peacock's tail it doesn't necessarily have to serve any real purpose other than to say "We know this display impresses you!". In fact sometimes human beings can be caught in the act of outright deception in order to keep the mythology and mystique about themselves going. See for example the bazaar case of Bob Lazar where obfuscation, magic and mystery are an end in themselves.

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In part II we go to the city of Bath where we will find another world of Stone's, stars, circles, status secrecy,  sacredness, mystique and masons. Another world of facades made to impress!

But there remains to tell of a curious ending to our visit at Avebury. We had just finished doing our tour of the circle and had entered the space in front of the National Trust museum when a low flying black helicopter passed over head! Knowing all those legendary associations of black helicopters with UFOs and corn circles I was absolutely gob-smacked! Moreover, even though I had been taking lots of pictures of Avebury I didn't quite have my camera at ready at that moment, just when I wanted it! Some people would say that's down to the camera imp who turns up and does his stuff whenever the strange makes a showing! I don't, of course, believe in black helicopter conspiracies but, I thought, what a fitting piece of symbolic synchronicity to end a day at Avebury! I was left chuckling over it for some time!

Footnote:

* As we know the construction of the LHC required a large number of specialists each very skilled in their particular specialism. It is an interesting question, then, as to the specialism break down at Avebury. The construction and running of the henge at Avebury would require manual skills, engineering skills, knowledge of the heavens and presumably priestly skills. Perhaps even ancillary tasks like catering and miscellaneous services were needed once the crowds converged on the site! An interesting exercise is to look for parallels between the specialisms needed at Avebury and the specialisms needed at the LHC!

NOTE: Link on New Grange: Quotes from the article:

One of the most tantalizing aspects of Newgrange is that it appears to be astronomically oriented: every year, on the morning of the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, sunlight penetrates the passage and illuminates the floor of the chamber. As the sun rises higher, the beam widens within the chamber so that the whole room becomes dramatically illuminated. This event lasts for 17 minutes, beginning around 9 am.

“To the Neolithic culture of the Boyne Valley, the winter solstice marked the start of the New Year– a sign of nature’s rebirth and promising renewed life to crops, animals and humans. It may also have served as a powerful symbol of the inevitable victory of life over death, perhaps promising new life to the spirits of the dead,” said World Heritage Ireland.

The Cosmic Perspective

I have a reproduction of this painting pinned up in my room. It shows a peaceful English country scene at night. The glowing candlelit windows of a church and a distant house betray the presence of human life. Above the idyll the star-lit sky is illuminated by the brilliant streak of the Great Meteor of October 1868, a meteor as bright as the moon and, it is said, with a trail which hung around for several minutes. If you have ever seen a bright meteor you may at first be a little taken aback by the noiselessness of this celestial firework. Intrinsically, of course, meteor strikes are very violent affairs as are most events in the heavens. But for the distant and detached ground observer they are as ethereal and silent as a passing wraith.

The painting of the Great Meteor of 1868 will always remind me of Jonathan's Benison's learned commentary in my copy of H. G. Wells' "The Time Machine" where Benison writes:

"Wells' time traveler .... has to learn to accept his limitations as a human being and to become perceptive to the cosmic perspective, the view of human reality that an impartial external judge might have" 

Benison is commenting on the fact that in spite of the dire straights in which the Time Traveller found himself 800,000 years into the future he is not so distracted that he is unable wonder at the procession of the equinoxes and the changed star configurations of the constellations. The Traveller also notices a fossil megatharium he finds falling into decay in an abandoned museum. Both the stars and the fossil speak of the vastness of space and depths of time far greater than even the 800,000 years through which the Time Machine has taken the Traveller. It is reflections like this which Benison refers to as being perceptive to the the cosmic perspective.

The painting, which is by an unknown artist, juxtaposes the glow-worm like evidence of human life with the spectacular display of the 1868 meteor. In those Victorian days (The same days in which Wells was writing) people had started to understand the very physical nature of heavens; it no longer seemed to (wo)men to be a sacred stage specially prepared for the centrality of the Earth. As the Victorian Wells wrote:

"Science is a match that man has just got alight. He thought he was in a room - in moments of devotion, a temple - and that this light would be reflected from and display walls inscribed with wonderful secrets and pillars carved with philosophical systems wrought into harmony. It is a curious sensation, now that the preliminary splutter is over and the flame burns up clear, to see his hands lit and just a glimpse of himself and the patch he stands on visible, and around him, in place of all that human comfort and beauty he anticipated - darkness still."



Of course as a Christian that is not how I read science. Something of my reaction is recorded here and here, although I endeavour to understand the atheist's position: The incongruity of a tranquil and introverted English village scene set against a cosmic event with its potential for catastrophe may have appealed to the artist: I'm sure it would have appealed to Wells.

The primeval object shown entering the Earth's atmosphere was likely ending its long journey in space, a journey far longer in duration than the time traversed by HG Wells' Traveller. Here was an object which, after travelling for perhaps billions of Earth years and many light years, had just noiselessly dissolved into an ephemeral streak of light. Did the people behind those apparently safe cosily glowing windows care or even know?

Jurrassic Landscapes

Znedek Burian's Jurrasic landscape: When I first saw this picture I could hear the wind in those trees and the cracking of falling dried wood. What did it mean? 

I have in my possession a book called "Prehistoric Reptiles and Birds" which I received as a school prize at the age of 11. It was written by paleontologist Josef Augusta and illustrated by Zdenek Burian. The text was perhaps a little dry for an 11 year old, but the illustrations by Burian fired my imagination. Burian is justifiably well known for his pictures depicting prehistoric animals. To my eye Burian's pictures are wonderfully impressionistic; although not meticulously detailed they convey a sense of life, animation, realism and above all prehistoric atmosphere. Somehow Burian's pictures take me back in time. One might expect that a boy of 11 was inspired by the pictures of prehistoric birds - and I was - but surprisingly it was Burian's Jurassic landscapes that had an even greater effect on me.

  

Burian: landscapes with a sense of depth

These landscape pictures made me feel as though I was actually looking through a window in  time at the actual thing.  The light, the atmosphere, the mood and the sense of a wilderness absent of the management of man became very real when I looked at Burian's pictures. Those landscapes receded into a misty background blur that I knew spoke of huge wild unmanaged spaces beyond. Those spaces were inhabited by monstrous roaming beasts uncontrolled by human interference and organisation. This was a very alien world that left me with nagging questions that I never shook off: What did it all mean? Why were there huge tracts of time absent of human presence? 

Ironically this was a spiritual experience: Unlike some for whom the questions of meaning eventually abate to be replaced by nihilistic resignation, for me the quest for meaning would incessantly nag. It was as if I was being shown a landscape and a still small voice whispered: "Look at this; what do you think it means?". In an effort to get closer to that question, if not to answer it, seven years later I attempted my own pencil depiction of a Jurassic landscape (See below). Not of Burian standard, of course, but it got the need to express something off my chest. In fact today I'm reminded of those scenes in Close Encounters of alien contactees who obsessively groped for meaning in the enigmatic picture of Devil's mountain that had been impressed on their minds.

And the obsession continues: If I ever come across a landscape that reminds me of Burian's pictures I photograph it. In fact here is an example I snapped in the early spring of this year: 

A modern Jurassic looking landscape.

Modernism and Christianity

This is a picture I drew circa 1971. In those days, aged 19, I still carried with me the modernist optimism that had attracted me in my school days of the 60s. During that decade I marveled at the high shiny steel and glass concrete structures that were being thrown up even in Norwich with its awkward medieval lanes and street lines. It made me feel that the future had arrived. To quote (once again) H. G. Wells' The Time Machine:

I saw  great and splendid architecture  rising about me , more massive than any buildings of our own time....

So, the above was my attempt to raise up a piece of architecture of my own; on paper at least! The idea was to create an impression of height, and a rising up into the clouds; notice the unfinished look of the upper most cylinder - yet more units could be added (As it stands the building is about 70-80 stories high). The twisting cross shaped units created a perspective problem that I solved using freehand rather than technically correct vanishing points - the upshot is that a careful check reveals the perspective to be rather awry!

I think I'm still a modernist, but perhaps a little less optimistic. To finish Wells' quote:

.....and yet as it seemed built of glimmer and mist.

Not long after I drew my picture I took an excursion into Christian evangelicalism. Mine was always a fairly moderate version of evangelicalism, but even that did not fit well with me; I always felt uncomfortable with it, a square peg in a round hole. Over the years I've moved away from straight evangelicalism, but retained what I consider to be the real essence of Christianity, the Open Gospel (See link below). Also, my modernist tendencies don't sit well with the stuffy conservatism sometimes found in evangelicalism..... and neither do some of my personality traits which wouldn't be out of place on an Asperger syndrome check list.  But far worse than all this, I found that evangelicalism is just too close to fundamentalism: For the fundamentalist high buildings and high achievement signify the rebellion of Babel and thoughts of man. And yet in spite of high spiritual pretensions fundamentalism itself has characteristics that are so transparently part of a very human complex of conceits, self-deceits and run of the mill failings common to all (wo)mankind. 

The over optimistic humanism of some modernism, when set against the dowdy oppressive observant based religion of fundamentalism, reminds me of that episode in Red Dwarf when Lister's ego is reified into two characters; a flamboyant optimist and a recessive critical pessimist. A balance needs to be kept between optimism and pessimism.Modernist Christianity may be the balance needed in these days of extremist polarisation. As it is with my imaginary architecture so it is with my Christianity.... the cross is central, twists to face in many directions, rises up to a great height and above all, is unfinished.

Some relevant links:

http://viewsnewsandpews.blogspot.co.uk/2006/11/blog-post.html

http://noumenacognitaanddreams.blogspot.co.uk/2008/02/power-houses.html

http://noumenacognitaanddreams.blogspot.co.uk/2008/12/university-of-big-disappointments.html

http://noumenacognitaanddreams.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/the-riddle-of-sphinx.html

http://noumenacognitaanddreams.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/behold-we-go-up-to-jerusalem.html

The Haywain

The Haywain by John Constable

I was brought up with a copy of John’s Constable’s Haywain (see above) hanging in my parents’ lounge. As a child I was puzzled why a wagon and its horses should be driving down the course of a small river; or was it stationary? Other than that I gave the painting little thought, although I did unconsciously imbibe the mood of peace, tranquility and beauty that the mind, unbidden, attaches to it. I have a modicum of artistic skill but art has not been my area of study, so unsurprisingly it is only in the last few days I have discovered the solution to the riddle of Constable’s evocative work.

Recently I happened to be in Ipswich, helping to escort my wife’s Spanish students. We visited Christchurch mansion where there is a display of Constable’s paintings. At the end of my visit I purchased a small book on Constable’s work by Ian St. John (entitled Flatford, Constable Country). According to St. John the Haywain is fording the river Stour from the near bank (where wheel ruts can be seen entering the river) with the purpose of collecting sun dried hay from the meadows over the river. Corn reapers can, in fact, be seen working in the distance. St John also points out those easily ignored disconnected incidentals which richly and randomly embroider real life: A fishermen can be seen coming through the undergrowth on the far bank to his moored boat and a kitchen maid is on the landing stage of Willy Lot’s house collecting water.

Christchurch Mansion, Ipswich, houses the largest collection of Constables outside London.

As far as I’m concerned, however, there remain riddles in composition of the The Haywain: The wagon and its team of horses doesn’t seem to be taking the most rational course to the other bank; according to St. John they are heading for the right hand fork of the river and thence up onto the bank. To my eye there is an awkward discontinuity in the trajectory of the Haywain and I suspect this is because elegance of composition was the overriding factor in Constable’s mind; for example he laterally compressed Willy’s Lot's cottage to bring in to the painting a more varied roof line thus improving composition.

Constable’s painting is a snap shot of arcadian life in the early 19th century. The stasis and silence of paintings whatever the content, dresses the subject with a peaceful ambiance and even more so if the painting depicts a rural setting. However, in spite of the idyllic content of the painting and the apparent aimless deportment of the Haywain itself the subject matter is, in fact, very dynamic: Constable’s rural contexts depict the countryside as a place of work. In the early 19th century that work was in many cases hard and long and I suspect its workers hit their beds at the end of the day very ready for sleep. I’m reminded of Darwin’s statement to the effect that the seeming tranquility of country hedgerows hides an unseen struggle for survival.

But the inhabitants of Flatford where the Haywain was painted were, I suspect, more placid than we are today: Although there were justifiable rebellions in the face of poverty (e.g. the Swing riots of 1830) their society had only just started on the road to industrialization and they did not know that plenty, like poverty, can also cause vexation: Contemporary media and advertising allow comparisons to be made between peer groups, raising expectation and the desire for status & one-up-man-ship; there always seems to be something better to attain or gain, especially as the apparent social mobility of modern society suggests that the opportunity for extraordinary levels of betterment are in principle open to all. Restlessness leading into outright discontentment is inflamed when expectations are dashed. One might own a 50 foot luxury yacht, but a nagging angst can set in if most of one’s peer group own 100 foot yachts. And when one does achieve one's goals of wealth and status there is a strong desire to hold on to them, at all costs. (Phil 3:7-12) *

But the composure of the arcadian idyll didn’t equate to a lack of self-awareness. Constable stood back and took stock of his conditions of existence through his art. Naturally enough for an artist like Constable his appraisal was intuitive and instinctual rather than analytical. Remarking on his painting called “The Lock” Constable wrote:

..its light cannot be put out, because it is the light of nature – the Mother of all that is valuable in poetry, painting or anything else – where an appeal to the soul is required. The language of the heart is the only one that is universal.

Constable’s paintings attach a sense of beauty, grace and dignity to the workplace that was Flatford and  glorifies it. These very human qualities are less an intrinsic property of the situation-in-itself than they are an extrinsic property arising from the atmosphere our minds impute to that situation. Mood is, as Constable suggests, the language of the heart and mood is more easily conveyed by art rather than by science. In the case of The Haywain, the enigmatic and seemingly purposeless orientation of its wagon and horses adds to the ambiance of composure and serenity.

Willy Lot's Cottage and the Haywain ford today.

* Footnote: It is reckoned that the hill forts dating from the iron age which pockmark Britain were a response to  growing agricultural abundance. This abundance provided the opportunity for the ambitious to compete with their peers in the control of that abundance. Once control was achieved there then arises the need to hold on and protect one's wealth and status from the grasping hands of one's fellow humans; the hill forts were a means to this end.