The Sandon Pax, c.1500, beechwood, watercolour on vellum, (Photo: A Barker) |
Tucked away in a corner of rural Essex
there is a tiny bit of exquisite history.
In fact, it is relatively unknown and will not have been seen by
many. It is almost unique, being one of
only two extant in the country. Five
hundred years ago, however, it was one of hundreds that were known by all. Every Sunday it would be first kissed by the
Priest, then passed reverently from hand to hand and kissed by each member of
the congregation in turn as a sign of peace.
It is the Sandon Pax.
I was given the rare privilege of
seeing this beautiful object, safely kept in the place where it was used all
those years ago. It is a small wooden rectangle, of twenty-six by twenty-three centimetres.
The frame is finely carved and was originally gilded, although this has,
to a great extent, worn away. Recessed
in the centre is a miniature work of art, smaller than a playing card and
painted in watercolour on vellum. It
shows Christ on the cross, head bowed, with the Latin sign above declaring him
to be Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.
On his right stands Mary, his mother, and on his left, stands John, into
whose protection he gave his mother.
The style of the watercolour has been pronounced as Gothic [1] with decorative pastel colours and highlights in gold, picking out the folds of Mary’s robe, the waves of John’s idealised hair and the rays of Christ’s halo. There is some similarity here with the intricately wrought illuminated manuscripts and Books of Hours of the thirteenth and fourteenth century, the Luttrell and Ormesby Psalters being two such examples.
Luttrell Psalter, c.1320-40, British Library, London |
Ormesby Psalter, c.1290-1340, Bodleian Library, Oxford |
Although this comparison
firmly places the Sandon Pax in the Gothic tradition, I would argue that some small
flowering of Renaissance form can be seen. The sidelong glance of Mary, her
head inclined downwards but subtly turning towards John, shows some
understanding of anatomical realism. This
is not simply a full frontal, flat image, but one with shadow and depth. Furthermore, Mary’s slightly parted lips seem
to me to display emotion, something that Renaissance artists were striving to
represent at this time. Mary’s eyes have been painted non-symmetrically,
one slightly larger than the other, a technique used by artists such as Holbein
to give character to a face [2]. Although these are small points, they are
worth noting. It has been suggested that the artist was French [3]
and certainly England received some Italian Renaissance ideas through a French
filter.
detail of Mary, The Sandon Pax, c.1500, (photo: Alison Barker) |
The Sandon Pax was created during the
reign of Henry VII, a self-pronounced Renaissance Prince and man of letters and
culture. His mother Margaret Beaufort
was a humanist who founded colleges, patronised art and helped establish
chapels. Catholicism was firmly
established as the religion of the country, a situation unchanged for hundreds
if not a thousand years meaning that the Sandon Pax is, in fact, a Catholic
object. It would no doubt have been used
throughout the next King’s reign too, as Henry VIII was staunchly Catholic on
his accession in 1509. Although in 1529,
Henry broke from Rome and declared himself to be Supreme Head of the Church,
that Church was still Catholic in doctrine and the King, Catholic in belief
until his death.
Protestant rumblings began to be felt,
however, and at the new King’s accession in 1547 everything changed. Edward VI, son of Catholic Henry had
nonetheless been tutored by humanists with Protestant leanings and the nine
year old boy was a devout Protestant.
The Pax had now become a sign of Papist belief instead of peace and was
at risk: Iconoclasm had arrived. Maybe it was at this moment that the precious
Sandon Pax was smuggled into the home of a Catholic parishioner to preserve it
from the wholesale destruction of idolatrous images. It lay undisturbed for three hundred and
sixty years when it was rediscovered in 1910 by the downstairs fireplace of a
Tudor cottage in Sandon [4].
Looking at it now and seeing the wear
from the fingernails of hundreds of hands, the evidence of faith from fifty
years unbroken use, it strikes me how precious this small sign of peace really
is. I cannot entreat you to go and see
it for yourself as it is not, as yet, on public display. However, measures are being taken to ensure
just that, and I will let you know when this happens.
Alison Barker
Lovely photo of a remarkable object. Alison, if you see this, please could you contact me at experienceofworship@bangor.ac.uk?
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