s. d."1499. Paid for a coat for Robin Hood 5 4" for a supper to Robin Hood andhis company 1 6" for making the church cleanagainst the day of drinkingin the said church 4""1531. Paid for five ells of canvass for a coatfor Maid Marian 1 6-1/4"
“Bells for the Morris dancers,” “liveries and coats,” “bread and ale,” “horse-meat of the horses for the kings of Colen on May Day,” are some of the items which appear in these books.
Another book tells us about the “Gatherings” at Hock-tide, when on one day the men stopped the women, and on the next the women the men, and refused to let them go until they gave money. The women always succeeded in collecting the most money.
s. d."It'm. receyved of the men's gatherynge 7 3" " " women's gatherynge 37 5"
Traces of this custom are still found in many country places. The practice of “hocking” at Hungerford and “lifting” in Lancashire subsist still, but the money collected is no longer devoted to any pious uses.
The item “Paschall money at Easter” frequently occurs. This was originally a collection for the Paschal taper, which burned before the high altar at Eastertide. When, in the reign of Elizabeth, the taper was no longer used, the money was devoted to buying the bread and the wine for the Easter Communion. Another item which often appears is a payment of “Smoke farthings” to the bishop of the diocese at his Visitation Court. This is another name for Peter’s pence, formerly given to the Pope. In the accounts of Minchinhampton we find the entry under the year 1576: “For Pentecost money, otherwyse peter pence, sometyme payed to Antecryst of Rome xvi’d.” After the Reformation the tax was collected, but given to the bishop.
There are very many other points of interest which a study of the churchwardens’ books presents. In more recent times we find constant payments for the slaughter of sparrows, and many other items which scarcely come under the head of ecclesiastical charges.[7] But of course the vestry was then the council chamber of the parish, which managed all the temporal affairs of the village community. Possibly, in these days of Poor Law Unions, District and County Councils, our affairs may be managed better; but there is much to be said in favour of the older system, and Parish Councils are not much of an improvement on the old vestries.
Another book which our parish chest contains is the Brief Book. Briefs were royal letters which were sent to the clergy directing that collections be made for certain objects. These were very numerous and varied. The building of St. Paul’s Cathedral after the Great Fire, a fire at Drury Lane Theatre, rebuilding of churches, the redemption of English slaves taken by pirates, the construction of harbours in Scotland, losses by hail, floods, French refugees, Reformed Episcopal churches in Great Poland and Polish Prussia, Protestants in Copenhagen, loss by fire, colleges in Philadelphia—these and many other objects were commended to the liberality of Churchmen. The sums collected were usually very small, and Pepys wrote in hisDiary, June 30th, 1661:—
“To church, when we observe the trade of briefs is come now up to so constant a course every Sunday that we resolve to give no more to them.”
The granting of briefs gave rise to much abuse, and they were finally abolished by the advice of Lord Palmerston.
The contents of the parish chest afford an unlimited mass of material for those who love to study the curious customs of our forefathers and their strange usages. Here is a record of a much-married person:—
“Mary Blewitt, ye wife of nine husbands successively, buried eight of ym, but last of all ye woman dy’d and was buried, May 7th 1681.”
In the margin of the register is written, “This was her funeral text.”
The register of Sparsholt, Berks, records an instance of the body of a dead man being arrested for debt. The entry is:—
“The corpse of John Matthews, of Fawler, was stopt on the churchway for debt, August 27, 1689. And having laine there fower days, was by Justices warrant buryied in the place to prevent annoyances—but about sixe weekes after it was by an order of Sessions taken up and buried in the churchyard by the wife of the deceased.”
A dog-whipper was an ancient parish official, whose duty was to drive out all dogs from the church. The Wakefield accounts contain the items:—
"1616. Paid to Gorby Stork for whippinge s. d.doggs 2 6""1703. For hatts shoes and hoses for sextonand dog-whipper 18 6"
Another official was the person appointed to arouse members of the congregation from their slumbers during divine service. The parish accounts of Castleton record:—
s. d."1702. Paid to sluggard waker 10 0"
Sometimes the cost of a journey to London was defrayed by the parish in order to enable a sufferer to be touched for the king’s evil. The Ecclesfield accounts contain the following entry relating to this custom:—
"1641. Given to John Parkin wife towards hertravell to London to get cure of his Majestiefor the disease called the Evill, which her s. d.Sonen Thorn is visited withall 6 8"
The clergymen were required to keep a register of all who were so touched, in order that they might not again go to the king and receive the bounty which accompanied the touch. Hence we read in the register of Hambleden, Bucks:—
"1685. May 17, Mary Wallington had a certificate to goe before the Kingfor a disease called the King's Evil."
The treating of bishops and clergy is often noticed in the accounts. Sometimes a sugar-loaf was presented, as at St. James’, Bristol:—
"1629. Paid for a sugar loaf for the Lord Bishop 15's 10'd"
Sometimes items relate to their refreshment:—
"1593. Pd for a galland of beer given to theBeishopp of Hereford iiii'd""1617. Pd for a quart of wine and sugar bestowedupon two preachers x'd"
The status of students at the Universities was not so high in former days as at present, and poor scholars used to beg their way to Oxford and Cambridge, and receive the assistance of the charitable. Hence we read in the Leverton accounts:—
"1562. Gave to a pore scholar at Oxford. 2s. 0d."
With this record of “a pore scholar” we must leave our study of the contents of the parish chest, which afford such valuable and accurate information about village and town life of ancient times.
[6] 812 registers begin in 1538, 40 of which contain entries prior to that date. 1,822 registers date from 1538 to 1558, and 2,448 from 1558 to 1603.
[7] In the Whitchurch books we find: “1671. Paide for a coate and wastcoate for good wife Clarke 13s., also for linen and shoes; to the Chiurgeons for looking at Ezechiell Huller’s legg £3.” And such-like entries.
Destruction of old windows—Wilfrid’s glass-window makers—Glass, stained and painted—Changes in style—Work of foreign artists—Inlaid tiles—Ironwork on doors and screens—Norman hinges—Mediaeval plumbing work—Mural decoration, frescoes, and wall-painting—Cause of their destruction—St. Christopher—Consecration crosses—Norman art—Favourite subjects—Yew trees in churchyards—Lich-gates—The churchyard—Curious epitaphs.
No branch of archaeology is more interesting than the study of our stained-glass windows, which illustrate so clearly the faith, history, and customs of our ancestors. We have again to thank the fanatics of the Reformation and Cromwellian periods for the shameful destruction of so many beautiful windows. How great has been the loss to art and history caused by their reckless demolition! And in addition to this miserable violence our windows have suffered greatly from the ignorant indifference of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which allowed priceless examples of old glass to be removed and replaced by the hideous specimens of the modern glass-painters.
In Saxon times this art found a home in England, theartifices lapidearum et vitrearum fenestrarumhaving been invited to this country by Wilfrid, Bishop of York, in 709. The earliest specimen of ancient glass now in existence is in the choir-aisles of Canterbury Cathedral, where it was probably fixed when the cathedral was rebuilt after the fire in 1174.
Coloured glass is of two kinds: (1)Stained glass, made by mixing metallic oxides with the glass when in a state of fusion, the colours thus going through the whole mass; (2)Painted glass, in which colouring is laid upon the white or tinted glass, and fixed by the action of fire. As the style of architecture changed, so the art of the glass-painter changed with it. In the Early English period the colours were very rich, and the designs consisted of medallions containing subjects taken from Holy Scripture, or the lives of the saints, upon grounds of ruby and blue. Mosaic patterns form the groundwork of the medallions, and a border of scrolls and foliage incloses the whole design. The outlines of the figures are formed by the lead. In the Decorated period the medallions disappear, and in their place we find single figures of large size under canopies. Instead of the mosaic backgrounds diaper-work in whole colours is used. Lights and shades are introduced in the dresses and canopies, and foliage is painted on the panes. The artists of this period first introduced heraldic devices into the windows. A border of white glass intervenes between the window and the medallion.
When the Perpendicular style was in vogue the art of the glass-painter degenerated, as did that of the architect. Stained glass was little used, and the artists painted with enamel colours their designs upon the glass. The figures were larger than before, and the canopies of great size and with much architectural detail, landscapes and buildings appearing in the background. During this period inscriptions began to be used. In the sixteenth century the progress of the art was in the same direction. Large figures, and groups of figures, fill the whole window, and the existence of mullions is disregarded in the execution of the design. Glass-painting flourished until the Civil War period, and then died out.
English churches benefited much by the work of foreign artists. The great Florentine Francesco di Lievi da Gambassi visited this country. There is a letter dated 1434, written “to the master glass-painter Gambassi, then in Scotland, and who made works in glass of various kinds, and was held to be the best glass-painter in the world.” How much must we regret the destruction of the windows made by this excellent artist in Holyrood chapel and elsewhere by fanatical mobs! The Fairford windows are perhaps the finest and most interesting in England. The story runs that they were made in Germany for a church in Rome, and that the vessel conveying them was captured by an English ship; and as the noble church at Fairford was then being built, the glass was sent there and given to it. Shiplake Church, Oxfordshire, has some of the beautiful glass which once adorned the ruined church of St. Bertin at St. Omer, plundered during the French Revolution.
Some good work was accomplished in the seventeenth century by English artists, who practised enamel painting, notably by Jervais, who in 1717 executed from designs by Sir Joshua Reynolds the beautiful west window of New College Chapel, Oxford.
The floors of our churches were enriched with inlaid tiles. Various patterns and designs were impressed upon them when the clay was moist, a metallic glaze covered the surface, and then the tiles were placed in the furnace. Many designs are found on ancient tiles, such as heraldic devices, monograms, sacred symbols with texts, architectural designs, figures, and patterns. The age of the tiles may be determined by comparing the designs imprinted upon them with the architectural decorations belonging to particular periods. In the sixteenth century many Flemish tiles were brought to England, and superseded those of English manufacture.
In the Middle Ages no branch of art was neglected. Even the smith, who made the ironwork for the doors, locks, and screens, was an artist, and took pains to adapt his art to the style of architecture prevailing in his time. Norman doors are remarkable for their beautifully ornamented hinges. They have curling scrollwork, and a large branch in the form of the letter C issuing from the straight bar near the head. Early English doors have much elaborate scrollwork, with foliage and animals’ heads. During the Decorated period the hinges are simpler, on account of the carved panelling on the doors, and they continue to become plainer in the subsequent period. The knockers on the doors often assume very grotesque forms, as at Durham Cathedral. The mediaeval plumber was also an artist, and introduced shields of arms, fleur-de-lis, and other devices, for the enrichment of spires, and pipes for carrying off water from the roof.
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No part of the ancient decoration of our churches has suffered more than the paintings and frescoes which formerly adorned their walls. In the whole of the country there are very few of the ancient edifices which retain any traces of the numerous quaint designs and figures painted on the inner surfaces of their walls during the Middle Ages. Our ancestors used to make free use of colour for the purpose of architectural decoration, and employed several means in order to produce the effect. They sometimes used fresco, by means of which they produced pictures upon the walls covered with plaster while the plaster was wet. Sometimes they employed wall-painting,i.e.they covered the walls when the plaster was dry with some pictorial representation. The distinction between fresco and wall-painting is frequently forgotten. Most of the early specimens of this art are monochromes, but subsequently the painters used polychrome, which signifies surface colouring in which various colours are employed. The vaulted ceilings, the timber roof, the screens and canopies, the monuments with their effigies, as well as the surface of the walls, were often coloured with diaper-work. Colour and gilding were marked features in all mediaeval buildings, and even richly carved fonts and sculptural monuments were embellished with this method of decoration. The appearance of our churches in those times must have been very different from what it is now. Then a blaze of colour met the eye on entering the sacred building, the events of sacred history were brought to mind by the representations upon the walls, and many an unlearned rustic acquired some knowledge of biblical history from the contemplation of the rude figures with which his village church was adorned.
“Even the very walls of this dread place,And the tall windows, with their breathing lights,Speak to the adoring heart.”
The practice of painting the walls of our churches dates as far back as Saxon times; but very few fragments of pre-Norman art remain. Of Norman work we have numerous examples, and sometimes it is found that the early specimens of the art have been painted over in later Gothic times, and ruder and larger figures have eclipsed the more careful work of previous ages. An example of this was discovered in the church of St. Lawrence, Reading, where no less than five distinct series of paintings were discovered, painted one over another.
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Several circumstances have combined to obliterate these specimens of the art of former days. It was not the intention of the Reformers themselves to destroy them. They distinguished carefully between “an embossed and gilt image, and a process of a story painted with the gestures and action of many persons; and commonly the sum of the story written withal hath another use in it than one dumb idol or image standing by itself.” It was left to the Puritans, impelled by fanaticism and ignorance, to make “a slanderous desolation of the places of prayer,” and it is to them we owe much of the destruction of the old mural paintings. At the end of the eighteenth century there was a prejudice against these works of art; for in 1773 we find the Bishop of London refusing to allow Reynolds, West, and Barry to clothe the naked walls of St. Paul’s Cathedral with pictures painted by themselves. Coated over by layers of plaster, or whitewashed until all traces were obliterated, these relics of ancient art have remained for generations, and it is only when an old church is being restored, and the coats of plaster and whitewash removed, that their presence is revealed; and then too often the colours fade away on exposure to the air.
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One of the favourite subjects of mural decoration was a figure of St. Christopher with the Infant Saviour on his shoulder.[8] He usually has a staff, and strange-looking fish swim about his feet as he crosses the river; on one side there is a hermitage, with the figure of a hermit holding a lantern to guide the saint, and on the other a windmill. This figure usually was painted on the wall opposite the principal entrance, as it was deemed lucky to see St. Christopher on first entering a church. Moreover the sight of the saint was a preservative against violent death during the day, and also a preventive against drowsiness during the service, as the following verses show:—
“Christophori sancti speciem quicunque tuetur Illo namque die nullo languore tenetur.”
Churchwardens’ accounts record the painting of these figures—
"1503-4. It. payd to mylys paynter for payntyngof Seynt X'fer viii's iiii'd""1521. It. payd to John Payne for payntyngof Sent Leonard left by the wyffsonpaynted xx'd"
A curious order was issued by Edward III. for arresting painters to work in St. Stephen’s Chapel at Westminster, to which artists of every description were liable to surrender as often as the king required their services.
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In Saxon times Consecration crosses were painted on the interior walls, twelve in number, on the spots where the bishop marked the cross with holy oil; and sometimes twelve crosses were carved or painted on the exterior walls. During Norman times the art made progress, and there are many specimens of mural decoration of this period, which correspond with the mouldings generally used then; but not many scenes and figures were depicted. Representations of bishops,Agnus Dei, scenes from the life of our Lord, the apostles, the Last Judgment, St. George, scenes from the life of St. Nicholas, St. John writing the Apocalypse, were favourite subjects. At Copford the painter evidently tried to make the chancel figuratively to represent the glories of heaven.
During the reign of Henry III. great progress was made, and travelling monks roamed the country leaving behind them in many a village church traces of their skill in artistic decoration. The murder of St. Thomas of Canterbury now became a favourite subject, also the lives of St. Catherine of Alexandria, St. Nicholas, St. Margaret, St. Edmund, the Seven Acts of Mercy, and the wheel of fortune. In the fourteenth century the Doom was the usual decoration of the space over the chancel arch, and scenes from the New Testament, legends of saints, “moralities,” etc., were depicted on the walls. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the artists paid little respect to the work of their predecessors, and frequently painted new designs over the earlier mural decorations. They also adorned very beautifully the roofs and screens. The arrival of the Flemings in the eastern counties is shown by the portraying of subjects and saints not usually worshipped in England. The figures of St. George become more numerous and also of St. Christopher, who were regarded with much superstitious reverence by all classes.
The vanity of human greatness is taught by the morality, “Les Trois Rois Morts et les Trois Rois Vifs,” representing three kings going gaily hunting meeting three skeletons, the remains of kings once as powerful as they. “The Dance of Death,” so popular abroad, also appears in some English churches. The wholesale destruction of so many specimens of mediaeval art cannot be too strongly condemned and deplored. If any of my readers should be fortunate enough to discover any traces of colouring hidden away beneath the coats of whitewash on the walls of their church, I would venture to advise them to very carefully remove the covering, and then to consult Mr. Keyser’s book onMural Decorations, where they will find an account of the best methods for preserving these valuable specimens of early art.
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In the churchyard stands the old weather-beaten yew tree, looking like a sentinel keeping watch over the graves of our forefathers. Some of these trees are remarkable for their age; the yews at Fountains Abbey, in Yorkshire, were probably in a flourishing condition so long ago as the year 1132, and some are older still. Why they were planted in churchyards it is difficult to ascertain. It has been conjectured that they were planted in so secure a spot in order that the men might provide themselves with bows, as all the bows used by the English, with which they did such execution against their enemies, were made of yew. Others contend that its green boughs were used instead of palms on Palm Sunday, or for funerals. But I think that they were regarded with veneration by our forefathers when they were still heathen, and that some religious symbolism—such as of immortality—attached to them; and that when the Christian teachers came they made use of this religious sentiment of the people, planted the Christian cross by the side of the yew, and under its shade preached lessons of true immortality, of which the heathen ideals were only corrupt legends and vain dreams.
At the entrance of the churchyard there is often a lich-gate,i.e.a corpse-gate, where the body may rest while the funeral procession is formed.Lychis the Saxon word for a dead body, from which Lich-field, “the field of dead bodies,” is derived. Bray, in Berkshire, famous for its time-serving vicar, is also famous for its lich-gate, which has two rooms over it.
“God’s acre” is full of holy associations, where sleep “the rude forefathers of the hamlet.” There stands the village cross where the preachers stood in Saxon times and converted the people to Christianity, and there the old sundial on a graceful stone pedestal. Sometimes amid the memorials of the dead stood the parish stocks. Here in olden days fairs were held, and often markets every Sunday and holiday, and minstrels and jugglers thronged; and stringent laws were passed to prevent “improper and prohibited sports within the churchyard, as, for example, wrestling, football, handball under penalty of twopence forfeit.” Here church ales were kept with much festivity, dancing, and merry-making; and here sometimes doles were distributed on the tombstones of parochial benefactors, and even bread and cheese scrambled for, according to the curious bequests of eccentric donors.
And then there are the quaint epitaphs on the gravestones, of which many have made collections. Here is one to the memory of the driver of a coach that ran from Aylesbury to London:—
“Parker, farewell! thy journey now is ended,Death has the whip-hand, and with dust is blended;Thy way-bill is examined, and I trustThy last account may prove exact and just,When He who drives the chariot of the day,Where life is light, whose Word’s the living way,Where travellers, like yourself, of every age,And every clime, have taken their last stage,The God of mercy and the God of love,Show you the road to Paradise above.”
Here is another to the memory of a once famous Yorkshire actor, buried at Beverley:—
“In memory of Samuel Butler, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. Obt. June 15th, 1812, Aet. 62.”
Here is a strange one from Awliscombe, Devon:—
“Here lie the remains of James Pady, brickmaker, late of this parish, in hopes that his clay will be remoulded in a workmanlike manner, far superior to his former perishable materials.
“Keep death and judgment always in your eye,Or else the devil off with you will fly,And in his kiln with brimstone ever fry;If you neglect the narrow road to seek,Christ will reject you like a half-burnt brick.”
Those interested in the brave mortals who go down to the sea in ships will like to read the following verses which appear on the tomb of William Harrison, mariner, buried in Hessle Road Cemetery, Hull:—
“Long time I ploughed the ocean wide,A life of toil I spent;But now in harbour safe arrivedFrom care and discontent.“My anchor’s cast, my sails are furled,And now I am at rest;Of all the ports throughout the world,Sailors, this is the best.”
The following original epitaph in a neighbouring churchyard compares very favourably with the flattering and fulsome inscriptions prevalent at the beginning of the nineteenth century, written in what has been called “lapidary style ”:—
“He was——But words are wanting to say what;Say what is just and kind,And he was that.”
[8] At Sedgeford the Infant is portrayed with three heads, illustrating the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity.
Bell customs and village life—Antiquity of bells—Christening of bells—“Ancients”—Inscriptions—Dedications—Inscriptions of praise—Leonine verses—Curious inscriptions—Historical events recorded—Uses of bells—Passing bell—Pancake bell—Curfew—Guiding bells—Names of benefactors—Great bells—Sanctus bell—Sacring bell—Frequent ringing of bell—Change-ringing—Care of bells.
Bells play an important part in village life, and there are few more interesting branches of the study of village antiquities than bell-lore. Ringing customs throw much light upon the manners and doings of our ancestors. Bells rang to commemorate the great events in history, news of which was conveyed to the quiet village; they sounded forth the joys and sorrows of the parishioners in their generations, pealed merrily at their weddings, and mourned for them at their funerals. As the bell “Roland” of Ghent seemed endowed with a human voice, and was silenced for ever by Charles V. lest it should again rouse the citizens to arms, so these bells in our village steeples seem to speak with living tongues and tell the story of our village life.
Bells have great antiquity. Odoceus, Bishop of Llandaff, in 550 A.D., is said to have taken the bells away from his cathedral during a time of excommunication. Bede mentions them in the seventh century. In 680 Benedict, Abbot of Wearmouth, imported some from Italy, and in the tenth century St. Dunstan hung many. Ireland probably had bells in the time of St. Patrick, who died in 493, and a bell that bears his name is preserved at Belfast. The earliest Saxon bells were not cast, but were made of plates of iron riveted together, and were probably used as hand-bells.
Bells were usually christened. Those of Crowland Abbey were named Pega, Bega, Tatwin, Turketyl, Betelin, Bartholomew, and Guthlac. A fire in 1091 destroyed this peal. Those of the priory of Little Dunmow, Essex, according to an old chartulary, were new cast and baptised in 1501.
“Prima in honore Sancti Michaelis Archangeli.”“Secunda in honore Sancti Johannis Evangelisti.”“Tertia in honore S. Johannis Baptisti.”“Quarta in honore Assumptionis beatae Mariae.”“Quinta in honore Sanctae Trinitatis et omnium sanctorum.”
The tenor bell at Welford, Berks, has the inscription, “Missi de celis habeo nomen Gabrielis 1596.”
Bells dating from before the year 1600 are called “ancients,” and it is a very pleasant discovery to find one of these in our church tower; and still more so if it be a pre-Reformation bell. Unfortunately a large number of “ancients” have been recast, owing chiefly to the craze for change-ringing which flourished in England between 1750 and 1830. The oldest bell in this country is said to be St. Chad’s, Claughton, which bears the date 1296. Pre-Reformation bells are very seldom dated.
Mediaeval bells have many curious inscriptions on them, which record the name of the donor, the bell-founder, together with heraldic and other devices. The inscriptions are often written in the first person, the bell being supposed to utter the sentiment, as it sends forth its sound. A study of the inscriptions on bells is full of interest. The earliest are simple dedications of the bell to our Lord, or to some saint. The principal inscriptions of this class are: “Jesus,” “Jesus Nazarenus Rex Judeorum,” “Sit nomen IHC benedictum,” “Sum Rosa Pulsata Mundi Maria Vocata,” “Sum Virgo Sancta Maria.” The invocation, “Ora pro nobis,” very frequently is inscribed on bells, followed by the name of some saint, and almost every saint in the Calendar is duly honoured in some bell inscription.
Bells were always rung on joyful occasions; hence inscriptions expressing thankfulness and praise were appropriate. Consequently we find such words as “Laus et Gloria Deo,” “Laus Deo Gratia Benefactoribus,” “Alleluja,” “Praise God,” and other similar inscriptions of praise.
Some old bells have Latin hexameter verses inscribed on them, composed by monks, which are called Leonine verses, from one Leoninus, a monk of Marseilles, who lived in the early part of the twelfth century. A few examples of these will suffice:—
“Est michi collatum ihc illud nomen amaetum.”“Protege Virgo pia quos convoco Sancta Maria.”“Voce mea viva depello cunta nocina.”
This refers to the belief that the ringing of bells drives away all demons and tempests, storms and thunders, and all other hurtful things. One bell proudly asserts:—
“Me melior vere non est campana sub ere.”
Inscriptions in English are often quaint and curious. Here is one from Somerset:—
“My treble voiceMakes hearts rejoice.”
Another self-complacent bell asserts—
“If you have a judicious ear,You’ll own my voice is sweet and clear.”
Loyal inscriptions are often found, such as—
“For Church and KingWe always ring.”
“I was made in hope to ringAt the crownacion of our King.”
“Ye people all that hear me ringBe faithful to your God and King.”
A bell that has been recast sometimes praises the merits of its new founder at the expense of its first maker, as at Badgworth, Gloucester:—
“Badgworth ringers they are mad,Because Rigbe made me bad;But Abel Rudhall you may seeHath made me better than Rigbe.”
Sometimes all the bells which compose a peal tell their various uses. Thus at Bakewell we find some verses on each bell:—
1. “When I begin our merry DinThis Band I lead from discord free;And for the fame of human name,May every Leader copy Me.”
2. “Mankind, like us, too oft are foundPossess’d of nought but empty sound.”
3. “When of departed Hours we toll the knell,Instruction take and spend the future well.”
4. “When men in Hymen’s Bands unite,Our merry peals produce delight;But when Death goes his dreary Rounds,We send forth sad and solemn sounds.”
5. “Thro’ grandsires and Tripples with pleasure men range,Till Death calls the Bob and brings on the Last Change.”
6. “When Vict’ry crowns the Public WealWith Glee we give the merry Peal.”
7. “Would men like us join and agreeThey’d live in tuneful Harmony.”
8. “Possess’d of deep sonorous ToneThis Belfry King sits on his throne;And when the merry Bells go round,Adds to and mellows ev’ry Sound;So in a just and well pois’d State,Where all Degrees possess due Weight,One greater Pow’r one greater ToneIs ceded to improve their own.”
A Rutland bell has the following beautiful inscription:—
“Non clamor sed amor cantat in aure Dei.”(“Not noise but love sings in the ear of God.”)
Historical events are sometimes recorded, as at Ashover, Derbyshire, where a recasted bell states:—
“This old bell rung the downfall of Buonaparte and broke, April 1814.”
The uses of bells are often shown by their inscriptions. People were aroused by their sound each morning in many places, as at St. Ives, where a bell is inscribed—
“Arise and go about your business.”
The villagers were summoned to extinguish fires by ringing of bells. Thus Sherborne, Dorset, has a bell inscribed—
“Lord, quench this furious flame:Arise, run, help put out the same.”
Bell-ringing customs are very numerous.[9] The passing bell has many variants. In some places three times three strokes are sounded for a man, three times two for a woman, and three times one for a child. Out of the first-named of these practices probably arose the phrase, “Nine tailors make a man,” which is usually explained as more properly signifying “nine tellers make a man.” Then we have a pancake bell, which formerly summoned people to confession, and not to eat pancakes; a gleaning bell, an eight hours’ bell rung at 4 a.m., noon, and 8 p.m. The curfew bell survives in many places, which, as everyone knows, was in use long before William the Conqueror issued his edict. Peals are rung on “Oak Apple Day,” and on Guy Fawkes’ Day, “loud enough to call up poor Guy.” Church bells played a useful part in guiding the people homewards on dark winter evenings in the days when lands were uninclosed and forests and wild moors abounded, and charitable folk, like Richard Palmer, of Wokingham, left bequests to pay the sexton for his labour in ringing at suitable times when the sound of the bells might be of service to belated travellers. Names of benefactors often find a permanent memorial on the bells which they gave; as at Binstead, Hants, where a bell has the inscription—
“Doctor Nicholas gave five poundTo help cast this peal tuneable and sound.”
And another bell in the same tower records the name of our famous Berkshire bell-founders, the Knight family. The inscription runs:—
“Samuel Knight made this ringIn Binstead steeple for to ding.”
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The story of our great bells, of “Great Toms,” “Big Bens,” “Great Peters,” need not be told here. They wake the echoes of our great cities, and are not heard among the hills and dales of rural England. Outside the church at the apex of the gable over the chancel arch there is sometimes a small bell-cote, wherein the sanctus or saunce bell once hung. This was rung during the service of High Mass when theTer Sanctuswas sung, in order that those who were engaged at their work might know when the canon of the Mass was about to begin, in order that they might kneel at the sound and pray to God. At Bosham Harbour the fishermen used to so join in the service of the sanctuary, and it is said that when George Herbert’s sanctus bell sounded for prayers, the ploughmen stopped from their work for a few moments and prayed. The sanctus bell differed from the sacring bell, which was a hand-bell rung inside the church at the elevation of the Host.
Old churchwardens’ accounts record the very frequent ringing of bells. In addition to the Great Festivals, Corpus Christi Day, Church feasts and ales, the occasions of royal visits, of episcopal visitations, victories, and many other great events, were always celebrated by the ringing of the church bells. In fact by the fondness of English folk for sounding their bells this country earned the title in the Middle Ages of “the ringing island.” Peal-ringing was indeed peculiar to England. It was not until the seventeenth century that change-ringing became general, and our old bells suffered much at the hands of the followers of the new fashion.
In recent years the study of our church bells has made great progress, and many volumes have been written upon the bells of various counties. Too long have our bells been left to the bats and birds, and the belfry is often the only portion of a church which is left uncared for. We are learning better now, and the bells which have sounded forth the joys and sorrows of our villagers for so many generations are receiving the attention they deserve.
[9] A collection of these will be found in my book onOld English Customs Extant at the Present Time.
Local government—Changes in the condition of villeins and labourers— Famine and pestilence—Effects of the Great Plague—Spirit of independence—Picture of village life—Church house—Church ales— Pilgrimages—Markets—Old English fair—Wars—Hastings—Hereward the Wake—Great Civil War—Restoration—Beacons.
Let us try to imagine the ordinary life and appearance of a mediaeval English village in the “piping times of peace.” Of course, no two villages are quite alike; each has many distinguishing features; but a strong family likeness is observable. In the Middle Ages a village was much more independent than it is now. Then there were no Acts of Parliament to control its affairs, and it regulated its own conduct much to its own satisfaction, without any outside interference. Of course, sometimes things were managed badly; but the village knew it had only itself to blame, and therefore could not grumble at the Government, or the fickleness of members of Parliament, or the unreasonable conduct of Local Government Boards. Was not the lord of the manor quite capable of trying all criminals? and did not the rector and the vestry settle everything to the satisfaction of everyone, without any “foreigners” asking questions, or interfering?
The position of the villeins andcottiershas changed considerably since the days of William the Norman. The former were now free tenants, who paid rent for their land to the lord of the manor, and were not bound to work for him, while the latter worked for wages like our modern agricultural labourer. There was thus in the twelfth century a gradual approximation to modern conditions on many estates; the home farm was worked by hired labourers who received wages; while the villeins had bought themselves off from the obligation of doing customary work by paying a quit-rent.
We should like to know something of the way in which our ancestors farmed their land, and fortunately several bailiffs have left us their account books very carefully kept, and one Walter de Henley in 1250 wrote a book on theArt of Husbandry, which gives us much information. The rent of land was about sixpence per acre. They ploughed three times a year, in autumn, April, and at midsummer, and used oxen for their plough-teams. Women helped their husbands in ploughing and harvest work. An old writer describes the farmer’s wife “walking by him with a long goad, in a cutted cote cutted full high.” Pigs and poultry were numerous on a mediaeval farm, but sheep were the source of the farmer’s wealth. Large flocks of divers breeds roamed the hills and vales of rural England, and their rich fleeces were sent to Antwerp, Bruges, and Ghent for the manufacture of cloth by the Flemish weavers. After the Black Death, a great plague which ravaged the country in 1348, the labourers were fewer in number, and their wages higher; hence the farmers paid increased attention to their sheep, which yielded rich profits, and required few labourers to look after them.
Prior to the advent of this grim visitor, the Great Plague, the prosperity of our villages had greatly increased. The people were better fed and better clothed than any of their neighbours on the Continent. Moreover they were free men, and enjoyed their freedom. There was much happiness in our English villages in those days, and “Merry England” was not a misnomer. There were, however, two causes of suffering which for a time produced untold wretchedness—two unwelcome visitors who came very frequently and were much dreaded—famine and pestilence. There is necessarily a sameness in the records of these pestilences.
The chief famine years were 1315 and 1316, but there is hardly any period of five years from the death of Edward I. to the coming of Henry of Richmond without these ghastly records of the sufferings of the people. Disease not only arrested the growth of the population, but reduced it considerably. It was mostly of a typhoid nature. The undrained soil, the shallow stagnant waters which lay upon the surface of the ground, the narrow and unhealthy homes, the filthy and neglected streets of the towns, the excessive use of salted provisions and absence of vegetables, predisposed the people to typhoid diseases, and left them little chance of recovery when stricken down with pestilence.
The Great Plague arrived in England in 1348 from the shores of Italy, whither it had been wafted from the East. It was probably carried to the port of Bristol by travelling merchants, whence it spread with alarming rapidity over the whole land. Whole villages were depopulated, and about one-third of the people of England perished. It is difficult for us to imagine the sorrow and universal suffering which the plague caused. Its effects were, however, beneficial to the villagers who survived. Naturally labourers became very scarce and were much sought after. Wages rose enormously. The tenants and rustics discovered that they were people of importance. Manor lords found it too expensive to farm their lands, and were eager to hand them over to their tenants, many of whom became much richer and more independent than formerly. The spirit of independence pervaded all classes. There came to our village many wandering friars, followers of Wiklif, who preached discontent to the labouring rustics, told them that the gentry had no right to lord it over them, that they were as good as their masters, who ought not to live in fine houses in luxury supported by their toil and the sweat of their brows. And when oppressive taxes were levied, the rustics revolted, and gained much for which they strove. The golden age of the English labourer set in, when food was cheap, wages high, and labour abundant. A fat pig could be bought for fourpence, and three pounds of beef for a penny; and in spite of occasional visits of the plague, the villager’s lot was by no means unhappy.
Here is a picture of village life in those days. The village church stood in the centre of the hamlet, with a carefully made fence around it, in order that no swine or foul beast might desecrate the graves. Surrounded by the churchyard, with its yew tree and lich-gate, the church was very similar to the old building wherein the villagers still worship. All the houses had thatched roofs, and chief among the other dwellings stood the lord’s hall. Near the church was a curious building called the church house, which has almost entirely passed away, except in the records of old churchwardens’ accounts. It was a large building, in which could be stored wool, lime, timber, sand, etc., and was often let to pedlars, or wandering merchants, to deposit their goods during the fair.
In this building there was a long low room with a large fireplace and hearth, around which a dozen or more could sit in comfort, except when the wind blew the smoke down the wide, open chimney; but our ancestors were accustomed to smoky chimneys, and did not mind them. In the centre of the room was a large oak table. This was the scene of some very festive gatherings. Aubrey thus describes the church house:—
“In every parish was a church house, to which belonged spits, crocks, and other utensils for dressing provisions. Here the housekeepers met. The young people were there too, and had dancing, bowling, shooting at butts, etc., the ancients [i.e.old folks] sitting gravely by, and looking on.”
The churchwardens bought, and received presents of, a large quantity of malt, which they brewed into beer and sold to the company. Hence these feasts were called “church ales,” and were held on the feast of the dedication of the church, the proceeds being devoted to the maintenance of the poor. Sometimes they were held at Whitsuntide also, sometimes four times a year, and sometimes as often as money was wanted or a feast desired. An arbour of boughs was erected in the churchyard on these occasions called Robin Hood’s Bower, where the maidens collected money for the “ales,” and “all went merry as a marriage bell”—rather too merry sometimes, for the ale was strong and the villagers liked it, and the ballad-singer was so merry, and the company so hearty—and was it not all for a good cause, the support of the poor? The character of these festivals deteriorated so much, until at last “church ales” were prohibited altogether, on account of the excess to which they gave rise.
ENLARGE