Museum of the Order of Saint John

I met with a friend to visit the Museum of the Order of Saint John. It was her idea as the museum wasn't really on my radar. She writes for Chetham's Library blog which you can read here.

I didn't really know what to expect, I'm not good on medieval history. I expected knights, but whilst there it dawned on me, that, aside from knowing them as playmobil characters and as dressing up costumes, I didn't really know what a knight or an order was.  

There are clues, you can tell that there were men and they fought battles,

 protected by helmets, shields and chain mail armour.

Obviously not offering complete protection.

But their remit went beyond fighting and protecting, to serving the sick and the poor.

In the 11th century in Jerusalem, Hospitallers, "cared for anyone without distinction of race or faith". From this was born the Order of Saint John and their military arm became the Knights of the Order of Saint John.

Caring for the sick, they stored their medicine in pharmacy jars.

And this looks suspiciously like a bed pan, or perhaps bed warmer.
I forgot to check the label.

These silver platters give us a hint to the Order's rules and values, that the sick were to be, "regarded as if they were Christ, and deserved the utmost respect". Another reason may have been that silver was easy to keep clean and has natural antibacterial properties. 

In the 12th century the order left Jerusalem, sailing across the Mediterranean Sea to Rhodes and Malta to continue their quest to provide food, shelter and safety for travellers.

The badge that you probably recognise from the St John Ambulance, has been their badge for centuries. It has been imprinted onto bread,

and has decorated breastplates and habits.

It wasn't all men. This is Saint Ubaldesca from Pisa. 

I was gradually beginning to understand what this religious military order did, and their place in history. But it wasn't until eating breakfast the next day, perusing the gumpf I had picked up in reception, reading the St John's Trail written for kids, that I really got it. Well the version you've just read above.

I still may well be wrong and there is a lot more to this story, including peregrines, prayer books, canon balls, and door knockers. And their 12th century English headquarters, the Priory of Saint John in Clerkenwell, London, the site of this museum.

Visit the Museum of the Order of Saint John and see it all for yourself.

Still a bit confused? There's more to help kids (and adults) understand.

Like their 'Family Activity Chest'.

Unfortunately we didn't have any kids with us this time.

Check out the Museum of the Order of Saint John in Clerkenwell, London.

Open Monday -Saturday, details on their website here.

As you can probably guess, this story continues on until the 20th century with the St John Ambulance. More on that story in a later blog post.

Roman Bath?

Reading other people's blogs, I'm loving hearing about so many museums that I've never heard of before. Like the Flora Twort Gallery mentioned by Lisa in her post, 'Day Tripping' to Petersfield, read it here. That is now on my 'to visit' list.

Then there are the places you didn't even know existed until you stumbled upon them in a city you thought you knew quite well.

Like the National Trust Roman Bath just off the Strand, London.

I was heading to Two Temple Place with a friend, you can read about our visit here, when we spotted this small sign above an archway. 'ROMAN BATH, DOWN STEPS TURN RIGHT'.

So we did.

And found ourselves in Strand Lane, a tiny alleyway, at The National Trust Roman Baths.

Walking down these deserted alleyways, if it wasn't for the sign, it kind of felt like we were discovering this two thousand year old Roman relic ourselves. 

These baths are 'said' to be Roman.

But the bricks used to build them are more like Tudor bricks

and it lies four foot six below ground level, Roman remains would usually be deeper. 

The first written record of these Roman Baths dates back to 1784, a "fine antique bath" in the cellar of a house in Norfolk Street in The Strand. And "William Wedell, a collector, died from a sudden internal chill when bathing there in 1792".
Dickens mentioned them too, in 1850. David Copperfield took many cold plunges in the old Roman Baths, "at the bottom of one of the streets out of the Strand".

At the end of the 19th century, these cold plunging baths were recommended by the medical profession as "the most pure and healthy bath in London ensuring every comfort and convenience to those availing themselves of this luxury". 

Not so much luxury today, but still cold. They are fed by a stream, with the rate of flow being about two thousand gallons a day. I still think there's a risk of a 'sudden internal chill'.

And the windows could really do with a bit of a clean.

To see them you have to turn the lights on

and look through very misty, grubby windows.

They sit here silently, looking dormant, but there's a serious amount of water flowing through this pool.

Roman Baths?
Their origin is a mystery. I'll leave you with a challenge set by the National Trust,
"...meanwhile it is open to the visitor to believe that it is indeed a relic of Roman London or to accept some such theory as set out above".
If you're passing, check them out and make your own mind up.
And National Trust, if you're passing, please give those windows a clean.

Newton Abbot Museum

I'd been waiting to visit Newton Abbot Museum for a while. Waiting until we next went to Devon, to see my mum in the Easter holidays, as quite a few local museums in Devon are closed for the winter. 

It didn't bode well at first when, after we'd parked very close by, we asked someone where it was and they "didn't even know Newton Abbot had a museum".

It's proper name is Newton Abbot Town & Great Western Railway Museum.

It was so well worth the wait.

It was one of those museums that gives you a tingly feeling, a sense of excitement as it draws you in.

We were given the warmest welcome, in the smallest room, with the largest fire surround.

This is the Sandford Orleigh overmantle. Made in the sixteenth century from over twenty carved oak panels. It has been recently restored through the Heart of Oak project.  

We were invited to see if we could work out which wooden figures were new and which were original. You could sort of work it out. This didn't detract from the wonder of it. We just gained great admiration for the craftsman who re-carved the missing parts. 

In Newton Abbot Museum there have been other craftsmen at work, making things from wood. This time an eighteenth century replica diving machine, designed to be used to recover valuable cargoe from sunken ships.

John Lethbridge, a pretty unsuccessful local wool merchant, designed and used the original machine, becoming a successful salvage diver in his forties.

 This automation helps you get the picture.

However it could go down to depths of 22 metres.

"Apparently people died because of the pressure they experienced on their arms."

Not as far as a Sperm Whale,

and a military submarine knocks spots off that, at 3000 metres.

Fortunately you don't have to go to any depth for the obligitory museum selfie.

Absorbed in John Lethbridge's story, I lost the kids but I could hear bells, train signals.

I followed the sound to the most amazing room.

 Under the watchful eye of an encouraging volunteer, signals were being pulled...

...and bells rung.

There weren't any tracks to move but, spot the difference,

the signal moved.

I loved this signal. Undeterred by having to fit a full-size train signal into a downstairs room of, what was effectively, a large town house, they just dug down to get it to fit in.

We had such fun in this room with civil engineer dad sharing his stories of times

on the tracks.

"I've pulled those levers for real, in a signal box in Sussex. You have to put your weight behind them and pull really hard. They even use a tea-towel in an actual signal box, to protect your hands."

"I used one of those horns, working on the tracks, you have to blow really hard. When you hear the horn 'blow up' you stand clear, there's a train coming. Site wardens are trained to 'blow up', to keep look-out. Site wardens are a 'walking, talking fence'". Yes really.

That's the horn on the left. 

Dad's can be quite boring and they're more impressed with the Brunel hat!

The GWR room is jam packed with social history and stories of the impact the railway had on the local area.

My mum and I loved this book.

These photographs, the volunteer told us, were the views from both sides of the railway, so it sort of makes sense to have one view upside down.

Of course, we had to find Teignmouth. Still recogniseable today.

"There's the Ness and Shaldon Bridge."

A train spotters paradise. Even photos in 3D.

They really did look three dimensional, but not digitally photograph-able.

Then there's Newton Abbot's history of the First World War.

And the 'Noteable Newtonians', of which there are many.

What a tour, from sixteenth century wood carvings to the bottom of the ocean

to Brunel's Great Western Railway.

I would like this post to be widely read, not so much for the benefit of my blog, but for the benefit of this most lovely museum, telling genuinely local stories of achievement and history. Staffed by volunteers with such energy and enthusiasm. It does regional museums and Newton Abbot proud.

Check out the Newton Abbot Town & G.W.R. museum website, here, for opening times

as well as a wealth of information about what they've been up to.

Open mid-March until October.

And if you bump into a local who, "didn't even know Newton Abbot had a museum",

take them with you, they should know about it.