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 assembled 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 Muranus.
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 shores 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 God for the safe and
quick voyage which they had made. The captain laughed at the
superstition, 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 God
forgive you," was the pilot's reply. Those who are familiar with the
northern shores 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 shore 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 muffled 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 muffled sound, are heard from beneath the
heaving sea, a warning to the wicked. The tower has remained silent to
this day.
Passing through Massingham, 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 "Hell Carr." Not far from
these trees there is a pool of water having a boggy bottom, that goes by
the name of "Hell Hole." A succession of bubbles are frequently seen
floating on the surface of the water in summer time, a circumstance (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 "Hell 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.
[Illustration: 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 superstitious 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 superstitiously
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 assemble in this valley every Christmas Day
morning to listen to the ringing of the bells of the church beneath
them. This, it was positively asserted, 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 massive 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.
[Illustration: 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 massive 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 massive
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 godmothers
and the godfather 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 godmothers. 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 Buttetourt, 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 principal 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 buttresses. 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.
The font has suffered some amount of mutilation in the five centuries of
its existence; three or four heads have disappeared, also the right hand
of the bishop, and the top of the pastoral staff; the chalice has been
broken off, and the flying lion is fractured. And as a reminder of the
iconoclastic century which was most likely responsible for the damage,
these dates are roughly cut into the leaden lining of the bowl: 1641,
1662, 1696.
Watching Chambers in Churches.
By the Rev. Geo. S. Tyack, B.A.
The smallest acquaintance with the inventories, or the ceremonial, of
our mediaeval churches is sufficient to show anyone a glimpse of the
extraordinary wealth of which the larger churches especially were
possessed in those days. Vestments of velvet and silk and cloth of gold,
adorned with jewels and the precious metals; crosses and candlesticks of
gold, studded with gems; reliquaries that were ablaze with gorgeousness
and beauty; and sometimes shrines and altars that were a complete mass
of invaluable treasure; such were the contents of the choirs and
sacristies of our cathedrals and abbey churches. This being the case, it
is obvious that the greatest care had to be taken of such places. Then,
even as now, there were desperadoes from whom the sanctity of the shrine
could not protect it, if they could get a chance of fingering its
jewels; men who would exclaim, with Falconbridge in the play of "King
John" (Act III., Sc. 3)--
"Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back,
When gold and silver beck me to come on."
To protect the wealthier churches from desecration and loss, therefore,
bands of watchers were organized, who throughout the night should be
ever on the alert against the attacks of thieves; who would also,
moreover, be able to raise, if need were, the alarm of fire. At Lincoln
these guardians patrolled the Minster at nightfall, to assure themselves
that all was safe. To facilitate the inspection of the whole building
occasionally squints were made; as at the Cathedral of S. David's, where
the cross pierced in the east wall behind, and just above, the high
altar, is supposed by some to have been for this purpose, a view being
thus obtained of the choir from the Chapel of the Holy Trinity, or _vice
versa_.
In several instances, however, it was found both more convenient and
more effective to erect a special chamber, so placed and so elevated as
to command a good view of the church, or of the portion of the church to
be watched; and here a constant succession of watchers kept guard. One
of our most interesting examples of this is at S. Albans. Near the
site of the shrine of the patron saint (on which the fragments of the
shattered shrine have been skilfully built up once more) is a structure,
in two storeys, of carved timber. The lower stage is fitted with
cupboards, in which were probably preserved relics, or such jewels and
ornaments as were not kept permanently upon the shrine. A doorway in
this storey admits to a staircase leading to the gallery above. This is
the watchers' chamber; the side fronting the shrine being filled with
perpendicular tracery, whence the monks in charge could easily keep the
treasures around them under observation. A somewhat similar structure is
still seen at Christ Church, Oxford, and is sometimes spoken of as the
shrine of S. Frideswide. It is really the watching-chamber for that
shrine; and was erected in the fourteenth century upon an ancient tomb,
supposed to be that of the founder of the _feretrum_ of the saint,
though popular report describes it as the resting-place of the bodies of
her parents.
[Illustration: ABBOT'S PEW, MALMESBURY ABBEY.]
In not a few cases, both in England and abroad, these chambers were
built in a yet more durable fashion. At Bourges may be seen a stone loft
on the left side of the altar; at Nuremberg also is one. In addition to
the wooden chamber, already described, S. Alban's Abbey (now the
cathedral) has a small one of stone in the transept. Lichfield has a
gallery over the sacristy door, which served the same purpose; and at
Worcester an oriel was probably used by the watchers. Westminster Abbey
has such a chamber over the chantry of King Henry VI., and Worcester
Cathedral has one in the north aisle; and there are several other
instances. Many churches had rooms over the north porch, as the
cathedrals of Exeter and Hereford, the churches of Christchurch
(Hampshire), Alford (Lincolnshire), and many others; and these in some
cases, as at Boston, had openings commanding a view of the interior.
Another explanation of the existence of a few watching lofts is
sometimes given, besides the need of guarding the Church's treasures. It
is held by some that in the face of the deterioration of monastic
simplicity and devotion in the later times before the Dissolution in
England, the abbots felt the need of keeping a stricter eye upon their
community; and these rooms were consequently constructed to enable them
to look, unobserved themselves, into their abbey church, and to see
that all whose duty called for their presence were there, and properly
occupied. This theory is perhaps supported by the traditional name of
"the abbot's pew," by which a very simple and substantial
watching-chamber in the triforium of Malmesbury Abbey is called. With
this may be compared another example in the priory church of
S. Bartholomew, Smithfield. In these, and most of the other instances,
the watching-chamber is an addition to the original structure, dating
often considerably later than the rest. This is quoted by the believers
in the rapid spread of monastic depravity in later ages in support of
the theory just noticed; as is also the fact, that the "pew" is often
near what formerly constituted the abbot's private apartments within the
adjoining monastery. It is probable that both explanations are true;
some of these lofts forming "abbot's pews," as others certainly were for
the guardian watchers of the shrines. In a large community it would
certainly be wise for the head to be able at times to survey quietly and
unobserved the actions of the rest; but this admission no more implies
that the lives of all monks were scandalous, than does the presence of
watchers by the shrines prove that all worshippers were thieves.
We have noticed in this paper the chief watching-chambers in this
country, but no doubt other examples occur which may have special points
of interest.
Church Chests.
By the Rev. Geo. S. Tyack, B.A.
An interesting article of Church furniture which has scarcely received
the amount of notice which it deserves, is the Church Chest, the
receptacle for the registers and records of the parish, and sometimes
also for the office books, vestments, and other valuables belonging to
the Church. In recent years attention has frequently been directed to
the interesting character of our ancient parochial documents, but the
useful cases which for so many years have shielded them, more or less
securely, from damage or loss, have been largely overlooked.