In summer, the quadrangle is bright with geraniums, and through a
passage opposite the entrance is a glimpse of a simple kitchen garden.
In it, as one of the pensioners, a white-haired, blue-eyed old man, told
me, vegetables are grown for the inmates of the hospital. I gathered
that they were not allowed to manage the garden themselves, but that the
garden produce was divided. But they cook for themselves. The pride of
the hospital, however, is not the garden, but the old oak of the
staircases and dining hall and board room, the settle and table, the
copper caldron and the windows with their punning legend "Clamamus Abba
Pater." I am not sure if my old pensioner could read it, but he pointed
it out to me, and when I read it, approved. In the chapel, where there
are a number of Latin verses telling the story of the painted windows,
it was easier for him; he handed me a written explanation. But the
explanation matters very little; the real thing is the superb colour.
The story, which is of Jacob, Esau and Laban, is told on two windows,
with nine lights. There are purples and greens in those windows at which
you might gaze through a dozen sermons; but there is one robe of
burning, translucent orange that would light a cathedral.
The history of these windows would be worth knowing. They were evidently
not wholly made for the tracery, though parts of them may have been.
According to one account, they were purchased by Archbishop Abbot from
the Dominican Friary which used to stand at the end of Guildford North
Street, and which was converted into a Manor House after the dissolution
of the monasteries. But the glass belongs to more than one period, and
some of it was evidently added by the Archbishop, for among the heraldic
devices above the Jacob and Esau lights are the Abbot arms impaling the
Canterbury arms. Also--a point which the antiquarians have no doubt
noticed, but I can find no reference to it in any book--the initials
S.R., which appear in the centre top opening of the north window under
the date 1621, are evidently part of another inscription. On the left
side of the S is part of a V or U, as if the end of a Latin word ending
in "us" had had its tail chopped off. The letters must have been
selected from the original inscription for some definite reason; what
can it have been?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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