At the beginning of last Century the Parish Church, dedicated to All
Saints, was the only church in Tottenham, and although smaller than at
present it was large enough for the number of worshippers. But as the
number of inhabitants increased, although other churches had been
erected, it was necessary to enlarge it, and in 1876 the new chancel was
built, north and south transepts, an organ chamber, double vestries, and
a north porch added, and what was formerly the old chancel absorbed in
the nave, and the new roofs made considerably higher than the old. For
my part, I like to think of the “Old Church,” as we used to call it, as
it was when I was a child, with the high pews with doors to them, two of
which were square, with seats all round, like a little room. One of
these was allotted to the tenant of the Moat House, Tottenham Park. The
centre alley of the nave was paved with grave stones, but they were so
worn by time that in many cases the inscriptions were nearly obliterated.
There was a gallery at each side, and one at the west end, where the
girls from the Blue School sat. The organ was in this gallery; Mr. Stone
was the organist for a great many years. On the wall of the gallery on
the south side were placed all the Hatchments that had been taken from
the large houses in the neighbourhood. The other gallery was private;
built and presented to the church by three gentlemen of the congregation.
The pulpit was a three-decker; the lower part was where the minister
stood to read the lessons, and by the side was the sort of box, where the
Parish Clerk sat. One of his duties was to say all the “Amens,” and also
to read the alternate verses of the Psalms, etc. We children used to
look forward with pleasure to hearing Psalm lxxiv., for when it came to
the eleventh verse, to our great amusement, old James Filsell always
said: “Why pluckest thou not thy right hand out of thy ‘buzzum.’” The
Vicar then was the Rev. Thomas Newcome, who lived at Shenley; he was also
Vicar of that parish, and it was only occasionally he came to Tottenham
to take the service. He never failed to come on the 25th Sunday after
Trinity, and my recollection of him is hearing him say, in loud and
impressive tones, the collect beginning, “Stir up, we beseech Thee, O
Lord, the wills of Thy faithful people.” The strong accent on the first
two words always made them sound “Stour oop.”
We only had morning and afternoon service, and as it used to get dusk on
winter afternoons the pew opener placed two flat brass candlesticks on
the top of the last pew on either side of the aisle to light the
congregation out. It was not a brilliant illumination, but it served
every purpose.
The next Vicar was the Rev. W. J. Hall. During the latter part of his
time some of the congregation wished to have an evening service, and
offered to pay for a minister from London to conduct it; but on talking
it over with Mr. Forster’s father, his remark was, “I am getting into
years, Forster, and so are you; so we will not consent to it, and if any
one wishes for an evening service there are other churches to which they
can go.” But Mr. Hale, who succeeded Mr. Hall, willingly agreed to the
request.
Over the Altar at the East there was a beautiful window of ancient
painted glass divided into eight compartments, containing the
representations of St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke, with smaller figures
of David, Isaiah, and Jeremiah. It was given to the Church in 1807 by
John Eardly Wilmot, who then resided at Bruce Castle. The other windows
were all plain glass.
The most remarkable monument in the Church, of fine white marble, against
the upper end of the north wall, was erected to the memory of Maria, the
daughter of Richard Wilcocks, of Tottenham, and the wife of Sir Robert
Barkham, of Wainfleet, in the County of Lincoln, who died in 1644. The
monument is ornamented with the busts of the deceased and her husband;
Sir Robert being represented in armour, with a peaked beard and whiskers,
holding a book in one hand; and his wife habited in veil, necklace,
handkerchief, and stomacher, very richly ornamented with lace, also with
a book in one hand and resting the other on a skull. On the base of the
monument are on a black ground the effigies in white marble of four sons
on one side and eight daughters on the other in praying attitude; the
first on each side kneeling to a desk with a book on it. One of the
children on either side is represented as deceased, and laid wrapped in a
shroud, with a death’s head under the pillow.
Underneath the painted window the Lord’s Prayer and the Ten Commandments
were written, and on either side of the Altar rails were two large boards
covered with leather; on these was written in letters of gold an account
of the bequests to the Parish.
Formerly the Vestries used to be held in the Vestry-room, but as the
population increased, and there was more business to be done, the
accommodation was not sufficient, and so they were held, first at the
Lecture Hall, and afterwards at the Drill Hall, and now at the Bruce
Grove Board School.
The bell that is known as the saints or vestry bell was given to the
Church in 1801 by Humphrey Jackson, Esq., M.D., who lived for many years
in White Hart-lane. This bell has upon it an ornamented cross on which
are fleur-de-lis and on the upper part the inscription “Sit nomen Domine
Benedictum I.H., Fecit, 1663,” together with two medals and an ornamental
border. On the lower part there are other medals, on one of which is a
representation of the Virgin and Child. This bell was the alarm bell to
the garrison of Quebec, and was appropriated by some drunken sailors
during the siege of that place by the force under General Townsend. It
is believed there is a quantity of silver in its composition, which
accounts for its melodious sound.
In former years some poor pensioner was allowed to make a home in the
room over the porch. The last was Betty Fleming. She kept a great many
cats, and used to place saucers with milk for them all round the
churchyard. She died in 1790, aged 100 years, having lived in that room
forty years.
A dog would not be permitted to enter a church now, but I remember when
Charles Bradford (old blind Charlie as he was called) was led in by his
dog, and it remained with him all the service, so quiet that no one would
have known it was there.
One Sunday evening in the summer of 1876 there was a terrific storm. All
through the sermon it had been getting darker and darker, and when the
last hymn was being sung the storm broke out in great fury, the last
verse had to be omitted, and the Vicar gave the Benediction. The noise
was deafening; the hailstones were immense; they smashed the Lanthorne
light, and glass was flying in all directions. Outside the water was so
deep that those who attempted to leave the church were obliged to come
back. To add to the confusion one lady went into hysterics. Some one
covered her with a waterproof so that she should not see the lightning.
Fortunately I had a bottle of strong smelling salts with me, which I sent
to her, and after a time she recovered. Everyone, I believe, was
frightened; some were deadly pale, and it was a great relief to all of us
when the storm abated. But many people had cause to remember it as it
did so much damage, destroying the crops in the market gardens and
smashing such quantities of glass.
At one time the churchyard was sufficient, not only for Tottenham, but
for Wood Green as well, and one could wander over the grass and amongst
the graves. There were not any very curious epitaphs; one I thought very
beautiful was on a stone erected to the memory of a pupil at Bruce
Castle. It commenced, “Far from his native home the little Sulliot
came.” On another was written, “Charlotte, we shall meet again.” The
stone was erected by a man who lost his wife. But after a time his grief
subsided, and he married again, whereupon he caused these words to be
erased.
When the Church was altered the churchyard also underwent a considerable
change. The paths were diverted, and many of the stones were removed to
another part. One lady strongly objected to having her family vault
touched, and applied to the Secretary of State to uphold her in her
refusal, which he did. Her reply to the Vicar when he asked her to
reconsider her decision was, “Cursed is he who removeth his neighbour’s
land-mark.”
My grandmother was buried at the time there were body-snatchers, and my
mother was so afraid of her body being disturbed, that, although she
employed two men to keep watch, she went accompanied by her maid at
various hours of the night to see that they were doing their duty, and
always found them at their post. It was a very lonely walk, but her love
for her mother made her brave. There was a watch-box on the north side
of the tower, and for a fortnight or three weeks after a burial old David
Hummett, who was one of the Charlies, kept watch. I have heard that
somewhere about this time a lady was buried in Edmonton Churchyard
wearing some very handsome rings. This was much talked about, and some
men for the sake of the booty dug up the coffin that night, and opening
it, commenced to cut off her fingers as they were unable to remove the
rings. To their horror she sat up. They made off as quickly as they
could, and she walked home to her husband’s house and rang at the bell
and he opened the door to her. What he felt no one can tell; at any rate
it must have been a shock to his nerves. She lived for some years after,
and this account was given to my mother by the nurse who attended the
lady when her baby was born. She was in a trance, so the men’s greed was
fortunate for her, as it saved her life.