Ecclesiastical Curiosities Part 6

The fourth bell at Coton-in-the-Elms has the inscription--

The bride and groom we greet In holy wedlock joined, Our sounds are emblems sweet Of hearts in love combined.

The sixth bell is inscribed--

The fleeting hours I tell, I summon all to pray, I toll the funeral knell, I hail the festal day.

The seventh bell at Castleton has the following legend--

When of departed hours we toll the knell, Instruction take, and spend the future well.

James Harrison, Founder, 1803.

The second bell at Monyash is inscribed: "Sca Maria o. p. n." (Sancta Maria ora pro n.o.bis.)

The old curfew custom is still kept up in the Peak district of Derbyshire, notably at Winster, where the bell is rung throughout November, December, January, and February at eight o'clock every work day evening, except on Sat.u.r.days, when the hour is seven. There are Sanctus bells at Tideswell, Hathersage, Beeley, Ashover, and other Derbyshire churches. All Saints' Church, at Derby ("All Saints," _i.e._, "the unknown good"), has a melodious set of chimes. They play the following tunes: Sunday, "Old One Hundred and Fourth" (Hanover); Monday, "The La.s.s of Patie's Mill"; Tuesday, "The Highland La.s.sie"; Wednesday, "The Shady Bowers"; Thursday, "The National Anthem"; Friday, Handel's "March in Scipio"; Sat.u.r.day, "The Silken Garter." They all date from the last century.

Church bells have the subtle charm of sentiment. When they swing in the h.o.a.ry village tower, and send their mellifluous message across the country side and down the deep and devious valley, or when they make musical with mellow carillon the dreamy atmosphere of moss grown cathedral closes, they have a poetical influence. How pleasant it is to listen to the chimes which ring out from time to time from the towers of Notre Dame, in the city of Rubens, and from the Campanile at Venice!

Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight!

From the molten golden notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon!

Church bells in large towns, where one section of the community are night workers and seek their rest in the day-time, are by no means invested with sentiment. We have in our mind a church which is set in a dense population of railwaymen, engine drivers, stokers, guards, porters, &c. It possesses a particularly noisy peal of bells. They begin their brazen tintinnabulations at breakfast time, and ring on, at intervals, until past the supper hour. Sometimes the sound is a dismal monotone, as if the bellman had no heart for his work. At other times a number of stark mad Quasimodos seem to be pulling at the ropes to frighten the gilded c.o.c.k on the vane into flapping flight. Sunday only brings an increase of the din, distracting all thought, destroying all conversation, defying all study, turning the blessed sense of hearing into a curse, and making you envy the deaf. It is well known that upon many persons in health the clangour of bells has a very depressing effect; but at night, when narcotics are given and the sick are wearied out, it is very easy to imagine how irritating these bells must be both to the invalids and their attendants. One is inclined to exclaim with the Frenchman--

Disturbers of the human race, Whose charms are always ringing, I wish the ropes were round your necks, And you about them swinging.

How very wise those Spanish innkeepers were who, in the olden time, used to make "ruido" an item in their bills, charging their guests with the noise they made!

Stories about Bells.

By J. Potter Briscoe, F.R.H.S.

On the eve of the feast of Corpus Christi the choristers of Durham Cathedral ascend the tower, and, clad in their fluttering robes of white, sing the _Te Deum_. This custom is performed to commemorate the miraculous extinguishing of a conflagration on that night in the year 1429. The legend goes that, whilst the monks were engaged in prayer at midnight, the belfry was struck by the electric current and set on fire.

Though the flames continued to rage until the middle of the next day, the tower escaped serious damage, and the bells were uninjured--an escape which was imputed to the special interference of the incorruptible S. Cuthbert, who was enshrined in that cathedral. These are not the bells which now reverberate among the housetops on the steep banks of the Wear, they having been cast by Thomas Bartlett during the summer of 1631.

The fine peal of bells in Limerick Cathedral were originally brought from Italy, having been manufactured by a young native, who devoted himself enthusiastically to the work, and who, after the toil of many years, succeeded in finishing a splendid peal, which answered all the critical requirements of his own musical ear. Upon these bells the artist greatly prided himself, and they were at length bought by the prior of a neighbouring convent at a very liberal price. With the proceeds of that sale the young Italian purchased a little villa, where, in the stillness of the evening, he could enjoy the sound of his own melodious bells from the convent cliff. Here he grew old in the bosom of his family and of domestic happiness. At length, in one of those feuds common to the period, the Italian became a sufferer amongst many others.

He lost his all. After the pa.s.sing of the storm, he found himself preserved alone amid the wreck of fortune, friends, family, and home.

The bells too--his favourite bells--were carried off from the convent, and finally removed to Ireland. For a time their artificer became a wanderer over Europe; and at last, in the hope of soothing his troubled spirit, he formed the resolution of seeking the land to which those treasures of his memory had been conveyed. He sailed for Ireland.

Proceeding up the Shannon one beautiful evening, which reminded him of his native Italy, his own bells suddenly struck upon his ear! Home, and all its loving ties, happiness, early recollections, all--all were in the sound, and went to his heart. His face was turned towards the cathedral in the att.i.tude of intently listening. When the vessel reached its destination the Italian bellfounder was found to be a corpse!

Odoceus, Bishop of Llandaff, removed the bells from his cathedral during a time of excommunication. Earlier still they are a.s.sumed to have been in use in Ireland as early as the time of S. Patrick, who died in 493.

In those days much superst.i.tious feeling, as in later ages, hung around the bells, and many sweetly pretty and very curious legends are known respecting them. Thus it is said S. Odoceus, of Llandaff, being thirsty after undergoing labour, and more accustomed to drink water than anything else, came to a fountain in the vale of Llandaff, not far from the church, that he might drink. Here he found women washing b.u.t.ter after the manner of the country. Sending to them his messengers and disciples they requested that they would accommodate them with a vessel that their pastor might drink therefrom. These mischievous girls replied, "We have no other cup besides that which we hold in our hands,"

namely, the b.u.t.ter. The man of blessed memory taking it, formed one piece into the shape of a small bell, and drank from it. The story goes that it permanently remained in that form, so that it appeared to those who beheld it to consist altogether of the purest gold. It is preserved in the church at Llandaff, and it is said that, by touching it, health is given to the diseased.

The bell of S. Mura was formerly regarded with superst.i.tious reverence in Ireland, and any liquid drunk from it was believed to have peculiar properties in alleviating human suffering; hence the peasant women of the district in which it was long preserved particularly used it in cases of child-birth, and a serious disturbance was excited on a former attempt to sell it by its owner. Its legendary history relates that it descended from the sky ringing loudly, but as it approached the concourse of people who had a.s.sembled at the miraculous warning, the tongue detached itself and returned towards the skies; hence it was concluded that the bell was never to be profaned by sounding on earth, but was to be kept for purposes more holy and beneficent. This is said to have happened on the spot where once stood the famous Abbey of Fahan, near Innishowen, in county Donegal, founded in the seventh century by S. Mura, or Mura.n.u.s.

Mr. Robert Hunt, F.R.S., tells us that, in days long ago, the inhabitants of the parish of Forrabury--which does not cover a square mile, but which now includes the chief part of the town of Bocastle and its harbour--resolved to have a peal of bells which should rival those of the neighbouring church of Tintagel, which are said to have rung merrily at the marriage, and tolled solemnly at the death of Arthur. The bells were cast. The bells were blessed. The bells were shipped for Forrabury. Few voyages were more favourable. The ship glided, with a fair wind, along the northern sh.o.r.es of Cornwall, waiting for the tide to carry her safely into the harbour of Bottreaux. The vesper bells rang out at Tintagel. When he heard the blessed bell, the pilot devoutly crossed himself, and bending his knee, thanked G.o.d for the safe and quick voyage which they had made. The captain laughed at the superst.i.tion, as he called it, of the pilot, and swore that they had only to thank themselves for the speedy voyage, and that, with his own arm at the helm, and his judgment to guide them, they would soon have a happy landing. The pilot checked this profane speech. The wicked captain--and he swore more impiously than ever, that all was due to himself and his men--laughed to scorn the pilot's prayer. "May G.o.d forgive you," was the pilot's reply. Those who are familiar with the northern sh.o.r.es of Cornwall will know that sometimes a huge wave, generated by some mysterious power in the wide Atlantic, will roll on, overpowering everything by its weight and force. While yet the captain's oaths were heard, and while the inhabitants on the sh.o.r.e were looking out from the cliffs, expecting within an hour to see the vessel charged with their bells safe in their harbour, one of those vast swellings of the ocean was seen. Onward came the grand billow in all the terror of its might! The ship rose not upon the waters as it came onward! She was overwhelmed, and sank in an instant close to the land. As the vessel sank, the bells were heard tolling with a m.u.f.fled sound, as if ringing the death knell of the ship and sailors, of whom the good pilot alone escaped with life. When storms are coming, and only then, the bells of Forrabury, with their dull m.u.f.fled sound, are heard from beneath the heaving sea, a warning to the wicked. The tower has remained silent to this day.

Pa.s.sing through Ma.s.singham, in Lincolnshire, a long time ago, a traveller noticed three men sitting on a stile in the churchyard, and saying, "Come to church, Thompson!" "Come to church, Brown!" and so on.

Surprised at this, the traveller asked what it meant. He was told that, having no bells, this was how they called folk to church. The traveller, remarking that it was a pity so fine a church should have no bells, asked the men if they could make three for the church, promising to pay for them himself. This they undertook to do. They were a tinker, a carpenter, and a shoemaker respectively. When the visitor came round that way again, he found the three men ringing three bells, which said "Ting, Tong, Pluff," being made respectively of tin, wood, and leather.

There is a tradition that John Barton, the donor of the third bell at Brigstock, Northamptonshire, was one of several plaintiffs against Sir John Gouch to recover their rights of common upon certain lands in the neighbouring parish of Benefield, and that Sir John threatened to ruin him if he persisted in claiming his right. John Barton replied that he would leave a cow which, being pulled by the tail, would low three times a day, and would be heard all over the common when he (Sir John) and his heirs would have nothing to do there. Hence the gift of the bell, which was formerly rung at four in the morning, and at eleven at morning and at night. He is also said to have left means for paying for this daily ringing.

One Christmas Eve the ringers of Witham-on-the-Hill left the bells standing for the purpose of partaking of refreshments at a tavern that stood opposite the church. One of their number, a little more thirsty than the rest, insisted that before going back to ring they should have another pitcher of ale. This being at length agreed to by his brother bell-ringers, the party remained to duly drain the last draught. Whilst they were drinking, the steeple fell. Whether this is merely a tapster's tale, or the sober statement of a remarkable fact, we are not in a position to state.

From a curious and rare pamphlet on "Catholic Miracles," published in 1825, we learn that a band of sacrilegious robbers, having broken into a monastery, proceeded out of bravado to ring a peal of bells, when, through prayers offered up by the "holy fathers," a miracle was wrought, and the robbers were unable to leave their hold on the ropes. This state of affairs was depicted by the inimitable George Cruikshank in a woodcut, impressions of which are given in our "Curiosities of the Belfry," (Hamilton).

In the village of Tunstall, a few miles distant from Yarmouth, there is a clump of alder trees, familiarly known as "h.e.l.l Carr." Not far from these trees there is a pool of water having a boggy bottom, that goes by the name of "h.e.l.l Hole." A succession of bubbles are frequently seen floating on the surface of the water in summer time, a circ.u.mstance (as Mr. Glyde, the Norfolk antiquarian author, truly states) that can be accounted for very naturally; but the natives of the district maintain that these bubbles are the result of supernatural action, the cause of which is thus described. The tower of the church is in ruins. Tradition says that it was destroyed by fire, but that the bells were not injured by the calamity. The parson and the churchwarden each claimed the bells. While they were quarrelling, his Satanic Majesty carried out the disputed booty. The clergyman, however, not desiring to lose the booty, pursued and overtook the devil, who, in order to evade his clerical opponent, dived through the earth to his appointed dwelling-place, taking the bells with him. Tradition points to "h.e.l.l Hole" as the spot where this hurried departure took place. The villagers believe that the bubbles on the surface of the pool are caused by the continuous descent of the waters to the bottomless pit.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BELL OF ST. FILLAN.]

In 1778 there was a bell belonging to the chapel of S. Fillan, which was in high reputation among the votaries of that saint in olden times. It was of an oblong shape, about a foot high, and was usually laid on a gravestone in the churchyard. Mad people were brought to it to effect a cure. They were first dipped into the "Saint's Pool," where certain ceremonies were performed, which partook of the character of Druidism and Roman Catholicism. The bell was placed in the chapel, where it remained, bound with ropes, all night. Next day it was placed upon the heads of the lunatics with great solemnity, but with what results "deponent sayeth not." It was the popular opinion that, if stolen, this bell would extricate itself from the hands of the thief and return home ringing all the way! The bell had ultimately to be kept under lock and key to prevent its being used for superst.i.tious purposes. This old time relic is now in the National Museum, Edinburgh, of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, and it is described as follows in the catalogue: "The 'Bell of S. Fillan,' of cast bronze, square shaped, and with double-headed, dragonesque handle. It lay on a gravestone in the old churchyard at Strathfillan, Perthshire, where it was superst.i.tiously used for the cure of insanity and other diseases till 1798, when it was removed by a traveller to England. It was returned to Scotland in 1869, and deposited in the Museum by Lord Crawford and the Bishop of Brechin, with the consent of the Heritors and Kirk-Session of S. Fillans." Near Raleigh there is a valley which is said to have been caused by an earthquake several hundred years ago, which convulsion of nature swallowed up a whole village, together with the church. Formerly it was the custom of the people to a.s.semble in this valley every Christmas Day morning to listen to the ringing of the bells of the church beneath them. This, it was positively a.s.serted, might be heard by placing the ear to the ground and listening attentively. As late as 1827 it was usual on this morning for old men and women to tell their children and young friends to go to the valley, stoop down, and hear the bells ring merrily. The villagers really heard the ringing of the bells of a neighbouring church, the sound of which was communicated by the surface of the ground, the cause being misconstrued through the ignorance and credulity of the listeners.

Concerning Font-Lore.

By the Rev. P. Oakley Hill.

When those sermons in stone--the beautiful fonts of the Decorated and Perpendicular periods, which preached to a bygone age--come to be translated into modern English on an extensive and systematic scale, they will be found to be not only sermons theological, but treatises on hagiology, music, contemporary history, symbolism, and art of the highest order. One of the richest fields in font-lore is to be found in East Anglia, and Norfolk alone contains examples of sufficient importance and of vivid interest, to fill a whole volume on this particular subject. Only to mention a few, that will rapidly occur to a Norfolk antiquary, is to conjure up a varied and rich archaeological vision, which can be extended indefinitely at will.

Of canopied fonts perhaps that of S. Peter (Mancroft), Norwich, takes the palm. The carved oak canopy is supported by four ma.s.sive posts, giving great dignity to the stone font which it overshadows. The canopy at Sall is of a more graceful type, being in the form of a crocketed spire, suspended by a pulley from an ancient beam projecting from the belfry platform. Elsing, Merton, and Worstead also possess font covers of great interest.

Seven Sacrament fonts are numerous, that of New Walsingham being one of the finest of its kind in England. It belongs to the Perpendicular period, and is richly carved. On seven of its eight panels are sculptured figures representing the Seven Sacraments, the eighth exhibiting the Crucifixion. The stem carries figures of the four Evangelists and other saints, and rests on an elaborately-carved plinth, the upper part of which is in the form of a Maltese cross. A copy of this magnificent structure has been erected in the Mediaeval Court of the Crystal Palace. A counterpart of the Walsingham font (more or less exact, though perhaps not so rich in carving) is to be seen at Loddon, with similar Maltese cross base, but the Vandal's hand has nearly obliterated the figuring of the Sacramental panels. Other instances of Seven Sacrament fonts are to be seen in Norwich Cathedral, at Blofield, Martham, and elsewhere.

Fonts bearing the date of their erection are found at Acle and Sall, the former having the following inscription upon the top step: "Orate pro diabus qui huc fontem in honore dei fecerunt fecit anno dni millo cccc decimo." An instance of a Posy font with date (sixteenth century) occurs in one of the Marshland churches, the Posy being:--

Thynk and Thank.

The leaden font at Brundall is believed to be one of three only of its kind remaining in England; a fourth, somewhat damaged, existed at Great Plumstead until a few years ago, when alas! it perished in a disastrous fire which practically destroyed the church. Lion fonts are numerous, those of Acle and Strumpshaw being excellent examples.

Remarkable examples of carved fonts are those at Toftrees, Blofield, Wymondham, Bergh Apton, Aylsham, Ketteringham, Sculthorpe, Walpole (S. Peter), etc. At Hemblington, dedicated to All Saints, there is a perfect little hagiology around the font-pedestal and upon seven of the panels of the basin, the eighth panel shewing the mediaeval presentment of the Holy Trinity, the Almighty Father being somewhat blasphemously represented as an old man, while the Crucifix rests upon an orb, and (what is perhaps somewhat unusual) the Holy Dove appears about to alight on the Cross.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FONT AT UPTON CHURCH, NORFOLK.]

Of Decorated Fonts in the county of Norfolk, that of Upton must be accounted _facile princeps_. In beauty of design, in fulness of symbolism, in richness of detail, it is a faithful type of the elaborate art of the Decorated Period. It was originally coloured, fragments of red and blue paint being still visible. A ma.s.sive base is formed by three octagonal steps rising tier upon tier, the upper step divided from the second by eight sets of quatrefoils, flanked at the corners by sitting dogs with open mouths. Upon the stem of the font there are eight figures in _bas relief_, standing upon pediments beneath overhanging canopies exquisitely carved. These canopies are adorned with crocketed pinnacles, and the interior of each has a groined roof, with rose boss in the centre. Some of the pediments are garnished with foliage, others exhibit quaint animals, _e.g._, a double dragon with but one head connecting the two bodies, two lions linked by their tails, and two dogs in the act of biting each other; all, of course, highly symbolical of various types of sin. The canopied figures around the pedestal represent the two Sacraments, an indication that even in the fourteenth century the two Sacraments of the Gospel were esteemed as of the first importance. Holy Communion is symbolised by five figures. A bishop in eucharistic vestments, his right hand raised in blessing, his left holding the pastoral staff, while the double dragon is beneath his feet.

It is not unlikely that this ecclesiastic was de Spenser, the contemporary Bishop of Norwich, of military fame. The bishop is supported to right and left by angels robed and girded, circlets and crosses on their heads, each holding a candle in a somewhat ma.s.sive candlestick. The graceful lines of the wings suggest the probability of the artist having belonged to a continental guild of stone carvers. The next two figures are priests, each vested in dalmatic, maniple, stole, and alb, acting as deacon and sub-deacon, the first holding an open service book, the second the chalice and pyx.

The three remaining figures portray Holy Baptism. Of the two G.o.dmothers and the G.o.dfather in the lay dress of the fourteenth century, the first holds a babe in her arms in swaddling clothes, the swathing band being crossed again and again. The other sponsors carry each a rosary.

To digress for a moment; here is an interesting deduction. The infant is a girl--witness the two G.o.dmothers. The font cannot have been made later than about 1380, at which time the Decorated merged into the Perpendicular. Now the lord of the manor of Upton from 1358 onwards, for many years, was one John b.u.t.tetourt, or Botetourt, who, with his wife Matilda, had an only daughter and heiress, to whom was given the baptismal name Jocosa. It appears highly probable that the lord of Upton, rejoicing at the birth of his little heiress, caused the font to be designed and built as a memorial of her baptism. But it would seem that he did not live to see her settled in life, for in 1399 she had grown to early womanhood, had won the affection of Sir Hugh Burnell, who made her his wife, and by the following year, if not before, she had inherited the manor in her own right.

To return to the description of the font. Resting on the canopies above described, and supported by eight half-angels with musical instruments, etc., is the large and handsome laver. The princ.i.p.al panels are occupied by reliefs of the four living creatures of the Revelation--the historic emblems of the four Evangelists--the flying lion, the flying bull, the man, and the eagle, the last named with scroll facing east. The four alternative panels represent angels, two holding instruments of music, two with heraldic shields. The panels are separated from each other by crocketed b.u.t.tresses. The musical instruments shewn upon the font are of great interest. A kind of rebeck or lute twice occurs, and once a curious pair of cymbals. One half-angel is playing on a crowth, an early form of the fiddle, consisting of an oblong box, a couple of strings, a short straight and round handle, and a bow. Another of the half-angels holds an open music book, containing the ancient four-line score.