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 arrived
From 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.
CHAPTER XIX
CHURCH BELLS
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 voice
Makes 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 King
We always ring.”
“I was made in hope to ring
At the crownacion of our King.”
“Ye people all that hear me ring
Be 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 see
Hath 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 Din
This 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 found Possess’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 Weal With Glee we give the merry Peal.”
7. “Would men like us join and agree
They’d live in tuneful Harmony.”
8. “Possess’d of deep sonorous Tone
This 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 Tone Is 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 pound
To 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 ring
In Binstead steeple for to ding.”
[Illustration: ANCIENT BELL FOUND AT WARWICK]
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 the _Ter Sanctus_ was 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 on _Old English Customs Extant at the Present Time_.
CHAPTER XX
THE MEDIAEVAL VILLAGE
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 and _cottiers_ has 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 the _Art 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.
[Illustration: AN ANCIENT VILLAGE]
There was a large amount of gaiety in the old villages in those days. Men were not in so great a hurry to grow rich as they are now. The Church authorised many holidays in the course of the year; and what with May Day festivities, Plough Mondays, Hocktide and Shrovetide sports, harvest suppers, fairs, and “ales,” the villagers had plenty of amusement, and their lives certainly could not be described as dull. Sometimes the village would be enlivened by the presence of a company of pilgrims on their way to the shrine of St. Thomas at Canterbury, or to Holywell, blessed by St. Winifred, in order to be cured of some disease. Although these pilgrims were deemed to be engaged on a religious duty, they certainly were not generally very serious or sad. Chaucer describes a very joyous pilgrimage in his _Canterbury Tales_, how the company met at the Tabard Inn, in Southwark, including the knight and the abbot, the prioress and the shipman, the squire and the merchant, the ploughman and sompnour (or summoner, “of whose visage children were sore afeard”), and rode forth gaily in the spring sunshine–
“The holy blissful martyr for to seek, That them hath holpen when that they were sick.”
Pilgrim crosses are numerous all over England, where the pilgrims halted for their devotions by the way, and sometimes we find churches planted on the roadside far from human habitations, with no parishioners near them; and some people wonder why they were so built. These were pilgrim churches, built for the convenience of the travellers as they wended their way to Canterbury. The villages through which they passed must have been much enlivened by the presence of these not very austere companies.
The ordinary lives of the farmers were diversified by the visits to the weekly markets held in the neighbouring town, where they took their fat capons, eggs, butter, and cheese. Here is a curious relic of olden times, an ancient market proclamation, which breathes the spirit of former days, and which was read a few years ago at Broughton-in-Furness, by the steward of the lord of the manor, from the steps of the old market cross. These are the words:–
“O yes, O yes, O yes![10] The lord of the manor of Broughton and of this fair and market strictly chargeth and commandeth on Her Majesty’s behalf, that all manners of persons repairing to this fair and market do keep Her Majesty’s peace, upon pain of five pounds to be forfeited to Her Majesty, and their bodies to be imprisoned during the lord’s pleasure. Also that no manner of person within this fair and market do bear any bill, battle-axe, or other prohibited weapons, but such as be appointed by the lord’s officers to keep this fair or market, upon pain of forfeiture of all such weapons and further imprisonment. Also, that no manner of person do pick any quarrel, matter, or cause for any old grudge or malice to make any perturbation or trouble, upon pain of five pounds, to be forfeited to the lord, and their bodies to be imprisoned. Also, that none buy or sell in corners, back sides, or hidden places, but in open fair or market, upon pain of forfeiture of all such goods and merchandise so bought and sold, and their bodies to imprisonment. Also, that no manner of persons shall sell any goods with unlawful mete or measures, yards or weights, but such as be lawful and keep the true assize, upon pain of forfeiture of all such goods and further imprisonment. Lastly, if any manner of persons do here find themselves grieved, or have any injuries or wrong committed or done against them, let them repair to the lord or his officers, and there they shall be heard according to right, equity, and justice. God save the Queen and the lord of the manor!”
And besides the weekly markets there were the great annual fairs, which lasted many days, and were frequented by all classes of the population. These fairs were absolutely necessary for the trade of the country in the days when few people travelled far from their own homesteads, and even the towns with their small number of inhabitants did not afford a sufficient market for the farmer’s and trader’s stock.
The greatest of all English fairs was held in the little village of Stourbridge, near Cambridge, now almost absorbed by the University town. Hither flocked merchants and traders from all parts of Europe. Flemish merchants brought their fine linen and cloths from the great commercial cities of Belgium. Genoese and Venetian traders came with their stores of Eastern goods. Spaniards and Frenchmen brought their wines, and the merchants of the Hanse towns of Germany sold furs and flax, ornaments and spices, while in return for all these treasures our English farmers brought the rich fleeces of their sheep, their corn, horses, and cattle. The booths were planted in a cornfield, and the circuit of the fair, which was like a well-governed city, was over three miles. The shops were built in streets or rows, some named after the various nations that congregated there, and others after the kind of goods offered for sale. There were Garlick Row, Bookseller’s Row, Cook Row; there were a cheese fair, a hop fair, a wool fair, and every trade was represented, together with taverns, eating-houses, and in later years playhouses of various descriptions. In the eighteenth century one hundred thousand pounds’ worth of woollen manufactures was sold in a week in one row alone. A thousand pack-horses were used to convey the goods of the Lancashire merchants to this famous fair. Now railways have supplanted the pack-horses; fairs have had their day; the trade of the country can now be carried on without them; and their relics with their shows and shooting-galleries and steam roundabouts have become a nuisance.
The peaceful life of the villagers was sometimes disturbed by the sounds and sights of conflict. The exciting tales of war are connected with the history of many an English village, and many “little Wilhelmines” and labouring “grandsires” have discovered “something large and round,” traces of these ancient conflicts and “famous victories.”
“For often when they go to plough
The ploughshare turns them out,
‘And many thousand men,’ quoth he, ‘Were slain in that great victory.'”
Many a lance and sword, and gilt spur, beautifully enamelled, which once decked the heel of a noble knight, have been found in our fields, and remind us of those battles which were fought so long ago.
“The knights are dust,
Their good swords rust,
Their souls are with the saints, we trust.”
Sometimes the spectres of armed knights and warriors are supposed to haunt these scenes of ancient slaughter, and popular superstition has handed down the memory of the battles which were fought so long ago. It tells us of the mythical records of the fights of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table by the banks of the River Douglas, which ran with blood for three days, so terrible was the slaughter. It tells us how stubbornly the Britons resisted the Roman armies, so that on one occasion not one Briton was left to tell the tale of their defeat.
When we visit the site of some battle with the history book in our hand, it is possible to imagine the lonely hillside peopled again with the dense ranks of English archers, or hear the clanging of the armour as the men-at-arms charged for “St. George and merry England”; and the air will be full again of the battle-cries, of the groans of the wounded and the shouts of the victors.
Visit the scene of the battle of Hastings. Here on the high ground, flanked by a wood, stood the brave English, under the leadership of Harold, with his banner, woven with gold and jewels, shining conspicuously in the morning sunlight. Here they stood in the form of a wedge; there they turned the Normans, and put them to flight. Then the Normans rallied, pretended to fly, decoyed the brave English from their position, and by stratagem succeeded in defeating them at last. Or go to the Madingley Windmill, near Cambridge, and see the fifteen miles of rich drained cornfields which intervene between “Ely’s stately fane” and the spot on which you are standing. Here read Kingsley’s well-known story of _Hereward; or, The Last of the English_, and instead of the rich cornfields you will see that black abyss of mud and bottomless slime into which sank the flower of Norman chivalry as they tried to cross that treacherous bog to conquer the gallant Hereward and to plunder the monastery of Ely, the last stronghold of the English. On they came, thousands upon thousands, rushing along the floating bridge which they had formed, until at last it gave way beneath the weight, and the black slime swallowed up the miserable wretches.
Or let us take our stand on the Round Tower, near the summit of the Edge Hill, and see the site of the first battle between the troops of Charles I. and the soldiers of the Parliament. The whole of that green lane was lined with troops. In a cottage which stood at our feet the king breakfasted before the battle; from that mound he surveyed the forces of the enemy. Just as the bells in yonder church had ceased to ring for service on Sunday afternoon the cannon began to roar, and the fight commenced. There Prince Rupert charged with headlong fury, carrying all before him. And so we can follow the fortunes of the fight until the brave Cavaliers retired to rest–
“And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.”
The memory of many a fight is recorded in the names of the fields, places, and hills on which the battle raged. Lichfield (_i.e._ the field of the dead), Battlefield, Battle, Battleflats, Standard Hill, Slaughterford, and many others, all tell the tale of war and slaughter.
In some parts of the country, especially in Oxfordshire, there are fine avenues of trees, which appear to lead to a large house; but when you have walked to the end of the trees there is nothing to be seen. These avenues tell the tale of war, of the destruction of the manor-house of some old Royalist who fought for his king when the “Roundheads” and Cromwell’s “Ironsides” were more than a match for the gallant Cavaliers. His house was destroyed, he and his sons killed, unless they were fortunate enough to escape to France and wait the merry time “when the king should enjoy his own again.” How many of our uplands and gentle vales have been stained with blood, and seen the terrible horrors of war, of which we in these favoured days know nothing from our own experience! We read about the sad battles and sieges which have taken place in other countries, but can hardly imagine the time when hostile soldiers were riding through our village lanes, and the noise of the cannon was booming in the distance, as on that famous Sunday morning in October, 1642, when Richard Baxter was disturbed in his preaching at Alcester by that strange sound, and knew that the terrible conflict had begun between the king and Parliament. Our English villages suffered very much. All farming was stopped, manor-houses destroyed, some of the best blood in England spilt, and many a home made desolate. Indeed, in some parts of the country the people had literally no bread to eat, and no clothing to cover their nakedness; and Cromwell ordered collections to be made in London for the relief of the distressed people in Lancashire. Then the old clergyman was driven from his flock, and some commissioner appointed who wrote in the register-books of the parish the names of the children who were born, but did not record their baptism as the clergyman did. And then some black-gowned Puritan, with his hair cut short, came and took possession of the living, and preached very long sermons about Cromwell “girding his sword upon his thigh,” and about blinded Papists, and about Mahershalal-hash-baz, who made haste to divide the spoil.
But in the glorious year 1660 everyone began to throw up his cap and welcome right royally the king from over the water; and the long-faced Puritan disappeared, and the writing in the register-books changed into that of a scholarly hand; and many of our churches were enriched by thankofferings of plate and other gifts, because the good people of England rejoiced exceedingly that their loved Church and her services were restored to them; and “the king at last enjoyed his own again.” The memory of the adventures of King Charles II., when he was endeavouring to escape from England after the last crushing defeat of the royal troops at Worcester, called by Cromwell “the crowning mercy,” still lingers in many of the country villages through which the unfortunate monarch passed. The king and a few faithful followers avoided the towns, passed the ford of the Salwarp at Hemford Mill, and proceeded by Chester Lane to Broadwaters and Kinfare Heath. Presently they reached Brewood Forest, where there stood two old hunting-lodges, built by the Giffards in troublous times as hiding-places for proscribed Papists. They were called White Ladies and Boscobel, and were inhabited by staunch Royalists named Penderel; so the king knew he would be safe there. He was disguised as a forester with leathern jerkin and trunk hose, his long hair cropped, and his hands blackened. All day he lay concealed in a coppice, and in the evening, under the name of Will Jackson, he supped with the Penderels, and then tried to cross the Severn, but all the fords and bridges were guarded. The next day he and Colonel Carlos remained concealed in a large oak near Boscobel, and the memory of Royal Oak day is still preserved. He had other narrow escapes, and was saved by Mistress Jane Lane, the beautiful daughter of Colonel Lane. A pass had been obtained for her and her groom to go to Abbot’s Leigh, near Bristol. The plan was arranged that the king should act as groom; so Charles mounted his horse, and Mistress Lane sat behind him on a pillion, and together they rode through Warwickshire to Bristol. The king was nearly captured at Long Marston, for some troopers of Cromwell suspected the party, and came to examine the house where they rested. The cook, however, set Charles to wind up the jack, and because he was awkward struck him with the basting-ladle just as the soldiers entered the kitchen. Their suspicions were thus removed; and in this old house the remains of the jack are still preserved. The poor king was disappointed of his ship; the skipper unfortunately told his wife that he was going to take the king to France, and she was angry, and locked him up in his room, so that he could not fulfil his engagement. At last Lord Wilmot procured a ship for the fugitive king, who set sail joyfully from Shoreham, near Brighton, and reached Paris in safety. There must have been great excitement in the villages of England when the troopers were scouring the country in all directions, and the unfortunate king was known to be wandering about disguised as a servant.
If there are any hills or high ground in your neighbourhood commanding an extensive view of the country, it is probable that in olden days a beacon was placed there, so that the country might be aroused in case of an invasion, and frequently we find that the tower of a church was used as a beacon, and occasionally the iron brazier remains, as at Little Budworth, Cheshire. When the Spaniards determined to invade England in the reign of “Good Queen Bess,” and sent the Invincible Armada, consisting of an enormous number of ships and men and guns, bonfires were placed on every hill; and when a gallant merchant vessel brought the news that the Spaniards were coming, the bonfires were lighted, and everyone prepared to resist their attack. Macaulay has told us in very stirring verse of how the news spread, as each fire was lighted,
“From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay”;
how Beachy Head caught the signal from St. Michael’s Mount, and sent it swiftly over the country from tower to hill-top,
“Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt’s embattled pile, And the red glare of Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.”
Again, within the memory of the old inhabitants of your village, the hill beacons were brought into use when Napoleon I. threatened to invade England; and on January 31, 1803, by some mistake, the fire on Hume Castle, in Berwickshire, was lighted; other beacons responded, and ere morning dawned thousands were marching ankle-deep through the dense mud of the winter roads to their appointed stations. The mistake was not without its uses, as Napoleon saw that England was ready, and did not venture to attack our shores. A similar accident took place in the reign of Henry VIII. There was a conspiracy against the king by the Roman Catholics, who did not like their monasteries being destroyed, called “The Pilgrimage of Grace.” Beacons were erected on the heights of Pendel, in Lancashire, and on the various hills of Yorkshire and Derbyshire; but the beacon on Pendel was fired before the conspirators were quite ready for action, and their plot came to nothing.
Once again in the history of our country were these beacon fires lighted; but it was not to announce the approach of an enemy, but to reflect the gladness of the nation which for so many years had enjoyed the reign of so good a ruler as Queen Victoria, who has now passed away from us, and whom the whole nation mourns. And as we witnessed the sudden blaze of the beacons we thought, perhaps, of other occasions when they were used, and were thankful that rejoicings and thanksgivings were the cause, and not invasions or conspiracies.
[10] This is a corruption of the old Norman-French word _oyez_, “hear ye.”
CHAPTER XXI
VILLAGE SPORTS AND PASTIMES
Decay of old sports–Twelfth Night–Shrovetide–Mothering Sunday– Hocktide–May Day–Miracle plays–St. John’s Day–Rush-bearing–Beating the bounds–Archery–Quintain–Football–Christmas games–Stocks– Cucking-stool.
It is the custom of some writers to represent the lot of an English villager in past ages as having been particularly hard and disagreeable; to enlarge upon the scanty wages which he received; and to compare his position unfavourably with that of the agricultural labourer of the present day. I have already pointed out that the small wages which he received are no test of his poverty, because he received so much more in lieu of wages; and certainly he had far more opportunities of enjoyment and recreation than the present generation has. Now we have scarcely any village games or sports, except when some energetic rector or curate starts a cricket club. Old social customs, which added such diversity to the lives of the rustics two centuries ago, have died out. The village green, the source of so much innocent happiness, is no more; and a recent writer has observed that the ordinary existence of agricultural labourers is so dull that in East Anglia they have almost forgotten how to laugh!
We will now try to realise how our village forefathers used to enjoy themselves, how they used to spend their holidays, and to picture to ourselves the scenes of happy social intercourse which once took place in our own hamlet. Every season of the year had its holiday customs and quaint manner of observance, some of them confined to particular counties, but many of them universally observed.
On the eve of Twelfth Night, January 5th, we see the good farmer and his labourers in Devonshire joining hands round his apple trees, and singing–
“Here’s to thee, old apple tree!
Hence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow! And whence thou mayst bear apples enow! Hats full! caps full!
Bushel, bushel, sacks full,
And my pockets full too! Huzza!”
A hearty supper followed, and with laughter, songs, and good wishes to the farmer and his wife, the company passed a very joyous evening. In Herefordshire, Yorkshire, and other parts of England similar customs prevailed.
[Illustration: ANN HATHAWAY’S COTTAGE]
Then followed Twelfth Night, which was celebrated by great rejoicings and merry-makings, a game called the choosing of kings and queens being played, and Twelfth Night cakes consumed in plenty. The next Monday was called Plough Monday, when the labourers used to draw a plough round the parish and receive presents of money, favouring the spectators with sword-dancing and mumming, preparatory to beginning to plough after the Christmas holidays. The men were decked out with gay ribbons, and were accompanied by morris-dancers. The Christmas holidays lasted these twelve days, and during them it was customary for the gentlemen to feast the farmers, and for the farmers to feast their labourers. Then came the Shrovetide festivities, on Shrove Tuesday, when pancakes, football, and cock-fighting, and a still more barbarous custom of throwing sticks at hens, were generally in vogue. On Mid-Lent Sunday, commonly called “Mothering Sunday,” it was the pleasing custom for servants and apprentices to carry cakes or furmity as presents to their mother, and to receive from her a cake with her blessing. This was called “going a-mothering.” The old poet Herrick alludes to the custom in Gloucestershire in these words:–
“I’ll to thee a simnell bring,
‘Gainst thou go’st a-mothering;
So that when she blesseth thee,
Half that blessing thou’lt give me.”
Then came the diversions of Hocktide, on the second Monday and Tuesday after Easter, when the men and women intercepted the public on alternate days with ropes, and boldly exacted money for pious purposes. There was a Hocktide play, which was acted before Queen Elizabeth, and caused her much amusement. She gave the players two bucks and five marks of money, which delighted them exceedingly.
Very shortly afterwards the great rural festival of our forefathers took place, the glad May Day, when, in the early dawn, the lads and lassies left their towns and villages, and going into the woods to the sound of music, gathered the may or blossomed branches of the tree, and bound them with wreaths of flowers. At sunrise they returned, and decorated the lattices and doors with the sweet-smelling spoil of their joyous journey, and spent the rest of the day in sports and pastimes, and dancing round the Maypole. The setting-up of the May-pole was a very joyous ceremony. A long string of oxen, gaily decked with flowers, drew to the village green the time-honoured pole, decked with streamers, flowers, and flags, where it was raised amidst laughter and shouts; and the Queen of the May was enthroned in an arbour and all danced round; and the morris-dancers, Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, and Maid Marian performed wonderful antics as they led the revels. Targets were set up at the other end of the green, and archery formed an important part of the day’s pleasures. The preachers at the time of the Reformation thought the people made an idol of the Maypole, and condemned the innocent amusements, which were revived again when Charles II. came to the throne. After May Day our villagers had not long to wait until the Whitsuntide holiday came round–
“A day of jubilee,
An ancient holiday;
When, lo! the rural revels are begun, And gaily echoing to the laughing sky,
On the smooth-shaven green,
Resounds the voice of mirth.”
I have already given a description of these Whitsuntide rejoicings in a preceding chapter.
Then there were the miracle plays, or “mysteries,” as they were called, in June, on Corpus Christi Day, which were performed before the Reformation, principally in the neighbourhood of large monasteries; Coventry, Chester, London, York being specially renowned for these performances. The subjects were taken from Holy Scripture, or from the lives of saints, and were intended to teach the people religious knowledge, but the scenes were disfigured by many absurdities and grotesque perversions. Their history is a curious one, too long to enter upon in this chapter; but often in the open fields, at the bottom of natural amphitheatres, were these plays performed, very similar in construction to the famous passion play performed by the peasants, at Ober Ammergau, in Bavaria, the last surviving specimen of the ancient religious drama.
Then there were the bonfires to be lighted on St. John’s Day upon the hillsides, and the dance of the young people around them, the more venturesome youths leaping through the flames, all carrying home the firebrands and forming a glad procession. Afterwards followed the busy harvest-time, when everyone was too hard at work, and too tired at the end of the day’s labours, to think of holiday-making; but at length came the harvest home, when the last sheaf was gathered in, and the harvest supper was a very joyous occasion. With light hearts, smiling faces, and cheerful shouts, the harvest labourers and their wives and children, carrying green boughs, a sheaf of wheat, and rude flags, formed a glad procession to the farmer’s house, where they found the fuelled chimney blazing wide, and “the strong table groaning beneath the smoking sirloin.” The feast over, they retired to some near hillock, and made the welkin ring with their shouts, “Holla, holla, holla, largess!”–largess being the presents of money and good things which the farmer had bestowed. Such was the harvest home in the good old days, a joy and delight to both old and young. Shorn of much of its merriment and quaint customs, it still lingers on; but modern habits and notions have deprived it of much of its old spirit and light-heartedness.
The floors of the old churches were formerly unpaved and unbearded, simply made of clay, and were covered over with rushes. Once a year there was a great ceremony, called “rush-bearing.” Rushes were cut in the neighbouring marsh, and made up into long bundles, decked with ribands and flowers. Then a procession was formed, everyone bearing a bundle of rushes, or placing them in the rush-cart beautifully adorned; and with music, drums, and ringing of bells, they marched to the church and strewed the floor with their honoured burdens. Long after the rushes ceased to be used in church the ceremony was continued, and I have myself witnessed a rush-bearing procession such as I have described. A village feast, followed by dancing round the May-pole, generally formed the conclusion to the day’s festivities.
“Beating the bounds” of the parish was another annual ceremony, which often took place on Ascension Day and is still in use at Oxford. Boundaries of property were not so clearly defined in those days as they are now; and hedgerows, walls, and railings were scarce. The bounds of the parish were often marked by trees, called “gospel trees,” because the clergyman used to read the gospel for the day under their shade. The people carried a processional cross and willow wands, and boys were generally flogged at the boundaries, or ducked in the river, if that constituted a boundary, in order to impress upon their memories where the bounds were. The village feast afterwards made some amends to them for their harsh treatment.
The village sports were a great source of enjoyment, and were frequently indulged in. The time-honoured archery developed the skill of our English bowmen, and won for them many a battle before the days of gunpowder and cannons. Then there was the very ancient game of the quintain, which consisted of an upright post with a cross-post turning upon a pin. At one end of the latter was a broad board, at the other a heavy sand-bag. The play, which required skill and dexterity, was to ride against the broad end with a lance, and pass by before the sandbag, swinging round, could strike the player to the ground. This was a common sport at wedding festivities. There were also the games of singlestick, cudgelling, and wrestling, which had many votaries, and the famous game of quarter-staff, so general in Berkshire, and so graphically described in _The Scouring of the White Horse_, by Mr. Hughes. An old parishioner of mine was the reputed champion of this game, which has now almost died out. Football is an ancient sport, and the manner formerly in vogue most nearly resembles the game authorised by the Rugby rules. The football was thrown down in the churchyard, and the object was to carry it perhaps two or three miles, every inch of ground being keenly contested. “Touch-downs” were then unknown, but it is evident from old records that “scrimmages” and “hacking” were much in vogue. Sack-racing, grinning through horse-collars, running after pigs with greased tails, were some of the lighter forms of amusement which pleased the villagers.
Then in the winter evenings there were “carols” to be practised for Christmas, and each village boasted of its own musicians, who played violins, flutes, clarionets, and other instruments in church, before the days of harmoniums and organs. Their music might not be of a very first-rate order, but they delighted in it, took an interest in it; and how pleased they were to take part in the service, and to play over their favourite hymn tunes, with a great many twirls and variations, to their children during the winter evenings! Christmas brought its accustomed merry-makings. In the north every farmer gave two feasts, one called “t’ ould foaks’ neet,” and the other “t’ young foaks’ neet.” Here is Sir Walter Scott’s description of an ancient Christmas:–
“And well our Christian sires of old Loved when the year its course had roll’d And brought blithe Christmas back again, With all its hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite
Gave honour to the holy night:
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung; On Christmas Eve the Mass was sung;
That only night in all the year
Saw the staled priest the chalice rear. The damsel donn’d her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dressed with holly green; Forth to the wood did merry men go,
To gather in the mistletoe.
Then open wide the baron’s hall,
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And Ceremony doft’d his pride.
The heir with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose; The lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of ‘post and pair.’ All hailed with uncontrolled delight
The general voice, the happy night, That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.
“The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide;
The huge hall-table’s oaken face
Scrubb’d till it shone, the day of grace, Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn,
By old blue-coated serving man;
Then the grim boar’s head frowned on high Crested with bays and rosemary.
Well can the green-garb’d ranger tell How, when, and where the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar;
While round the merry wassail bowl, Garnished with ribbons, blithe did trowl. Then the huge sirloin reek’d: hard by
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie; Nor fail’d old Scotland to produce
At such high time her savoury goose. Then came the merry maskers in,
And carols roared with blithesome din; If unmelodious was the song,
It was a hearty note, and strong.
Who lists may in this mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery;
White shirts supply the masquerade, And smutted cheeks the visor made;
But, oh! what masquers, richly dight, Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England when
Old Christmas brought his sports again. ‘Twas Christmas broach’d the mightiest ale; ‘Twas Christmas told the merriest tale. A Christmas gambol oft would cheer
A poor man’s heart through half the year.”
Such was the manner of keeping Christmas in olden times; and if “the mightiest ale” was sometimes too mighty, and although the intemperance of our forefathers was a vice much to be deplored, at any rate their hearty manner of keeping this annual feast was effectual in promoting “goodwill amongst men,” and in cheering the hearts of the poor.
In this chapter I have attempted to show the varied amusements and recreations in which our village ancestors took part. On the old village green, which in too many of our villages has been inclosed and become a thing of the past, many of these sports and pastimes once took place. There stood the village stocks, in which the refractory paid the penalty of their misdeeds; and sometimes, too, a pillory was added, which held fast the head, arms, and legs of the culprit, while the villagers, rude vindicators of the law, threw stones, rotten eggs, and other missiles at the unhappy victim. At the edge of the pond you might have seen a long plank which turned on a swivel, with a chair at the end overhanging the water. This was called a “cucking-stool,” and was used to duck scolds or brawlers. The culprit was placed in the chair, and the other end of the plank was raised several times, so that the ardour of the culprit was effectually cooled by frequent immersions. These were rough methods of administering justice, but often very effectual in checking vice.
The social customs which formerly existed in each village, the sports and pastimes associated with the village green, the May Day festivals, and the Christmas carollings were of great value, inasmuch as they tended to infuse some poetical feeling into the minds of the people, softened the rudeness of rustic manners, and gave the villagers simple pleasures which lightened their labours. They prevented them from growing hard, grasping, and discontented with their lot. They promoted good feeling between the farmers and their labourers. The customs of the town were a poor exchange for the ancient country manners and amusements; and it was a sad day for our country when the villagers lost their simplicity and the power of appreciating the primitive pleasures of rural England.
[Illustration: OLD STOCKS AND WHIPPING POST]
CHAPTER XXII
THE VILLAGE INN
Monastic inns–Village inns–Highwaymen–Inn signs–Famous inns– Man-traps.
In almost every village in England there is an inn. Before the Reformation there were very few of these hostelries, as travellers were always accommodated at the monasteries, each of which, as we have seen, had a hospitium, or guest-house, where their wants were attended to by special officers appointed for the purpose, and where they could remain for several days. But the destruction of the monasteries produced many changes in the condition of the country; it introduced the necessity of a poor law, for the poor were always relieved by the monasteries; it required the erection of schools and places for education, as all the education of the country had been carried on in these monastic buildings; and when the old guesthouses ceased to exist, travellers, merchants, and pedlars required some place in which to lodge when they moved about the country, and inns became plentiful as time went on. Hence in almost every village in England there is an inn, which is generally a landmark; and if you wish to direct a stranger to some place where he desires to go, you doubtless tell him to turn to the right by “The Bull,” or to keep straight on until he comes to “The Magpie.” Indeed, a friend of mine, who is a strong teetotaler, asserts that the only good use inns have is to help people to find their road. But old inns have a great history. In former days they used to be meeting-places of plotters and conspirators. All the distinguished people in the country used to pass through the villages and towns on the great roads through the country, and when the horses were being changed they used to partake of the good fare which the landlord provided. Those were busy times for the old inns, when there was stabling for fifty or sixty horses, and the coaches used to rattle through the village to the inn door long before the iron horses began to drag their freight of passengers along the iron roads, and the scream of the engines took the place of the cheerful notes of the posthorn.
Sometimes a gentleman would ride to an inn door on a beautiful, fleet-looking steed, and receive a hearty welcome from the landlord; but the pistols in his belt looked ominous, and presently some soldiers would steal noiselessly into the inn where the gentleman was refreshing himself, and there would be heard the sounds of vigorous fighting; and often, in some wonderful way, Claude Duval or the noted Dick would fight his way out, whistle to his steed, jump into the saddle, and ride away before his less nimble pursuers had recovered from their astonishment. Very many exciting scenes have taken place in our old inns, but in these days railways have changed all things; and in many streets where the coaches used to rattle along, and the place was alive with merry sounds, the moss now grows, and all is silence and desolation. We should certainly think it inconvenient to take three days to travel from London to Bath, and it would not be pleasant to have a visit from Dick Turpin on the way, and to have all one’s valuables appropriated by that notorious highwayman; but in these days of worry and busy bustling it would be refreshing to catch a glimpse of those quiet times when people were not so much in a hurry, and to hear the sound of the posthorn once more instead of the whistle of the steam-engine.
The quaint-looking pictures and curious names which attract our notice as we pass an inn door have some queer stories to tell. We notice a very curious collection of animals sometimes, and a strange assortment of things; and the reason why our ancestors put some of these curious things together is somewhat difficult for us to find out. In olden days, other houses of tradesmen besides inns had signs. Grocers, tailors, candlestick-makers, all had signs; but most of these have disappeared, except one belonging to a certain sweep of my acquaintance, whose house is adorned with the figure of a man coming out of a globe, with the motto, “Help me through the world.” Over their doors barbers still have their poles, which represented once the fact that the barber was prepared to bandage up wounded arms and legs, and to perform the office of blood-letting; the stripes on the pole were intended to represent the bandages, and the barber was the surgeon of the town. We do not seem to have so much blood to spare as our forefathers, as the barber always bled his customers once or twice a year, especially in the springtime, the operation being considered very beneficial.
One reason for the curious mixture of animals and other things which we see on signboards is that an apprentice, when he had finished his time and begun to set up for himself, adopted some sign, and then joined with it the sign of his old master. This will account for such curiosities as “The Lamb and Dolphin,” “The Goose and Gridiron,” “The Fox and Seven Stars,” combinations of things for which it would otherwise be difficult to account. Another reason is that signs were taken from the armorial bearings, or crests, of some popular character, or of some great family in the neighbourhood. For example, I may mention “The Bear with the Ragged Staff,” which was the crest of Richard Nevil, Earl of Warwick, commonly called “The Kingmaker,” who was slain in the battle of Barnet, 1471 A.D. “The Blue Boar” was one of the badges of the House of York. “The Bull” is a very common sign, because it was a very common crest, and we have them in all colours–black, red, white; lions also rage in blue, white, and red attire. Sometimes we meet with “The Cross Keys,” the keeper of which was probably an old servant or tenant of an abbey or monastery, and chose his sign from that of the monastery with which he was connected. Frequently, in olden times, a cross was erected at the meeting of two or three roads, or where the pilgrims to Canterbury used to pass; afterwards an inn was built near it, and was, in many cases, called the Cross Inn.
One very common cause of curious signs is the way in which the original word has been corrupted by ignorant people frequently repeating words which they did not understand, and thus changing their whole meaning. You may have seen an inn described as “The Swan with Two Necks”–a very rare bird indeed. But it was never intended to disfigure the bird by giving it two necks; the original sign was “The Swan with Two _Nicks_” and nicks were the marks which were cut on a swan’s bill to distinguish it from other swans, so that it might be known to whom the bird belonged. But _nicks_ became _necks_ in course of conversation, until at last a fabulous creature with two beautifully curved necks appeared on the signboard. This same cause will account for the two strange signs, “Bull and Gate” and “Bull and Mouth.” The original signs were “Boulogne Gate” and “Boulogne Mouth,” _i.e._ the gate and harbour of the town of Boulogne, in France, which was captured by the English under King Henry VIII. in the year 1544. The English were very pleased to hear of the defeat of the French, and of the taking of that important town, and several inns were named in honour of the event; but the French “Boulogne” was too much for our good English mouths to speak, so it became “Bull and.”
Another name which puzzled our forefathers was “_La Belle Sauvage_” (“the Beautiful Savage”), which was named after a noted savage beauty who was the rage at Paris. Others assert that the name of the landlady was Isabella Savage, shortened into Bella Savage. However, in course of time the name was altered into “Bell and Savage,” and a picture representing this odd combination stood over the door. In the same way the original sign, “Whip and Nag,” between which there is often a very close connection, became “Whip and Egg”; and the reason why these two articles should be placed together is not so evident. So also there does not seem any reason for an inn to be called “Bag o’ Nails”; but when we are told that the original word was “Bacchanals,” _i.e._ followers of Bacchus, the old god of wine, we can understand how the corruption, “Bag o’ Nails,” arose. Before the days of licensing, when everyone could sell liquor who chose without obtaining any licence from the magistrates, it was the custom to put a bush over the doorway, in order to inform the passers-by that liquor could be purchased there. This is the origin of the saying, “Good wine needs no bush.”
[Illustration: VILLAGE INN WITH OLD TITHE BARN OF READING ABBEY]
“The Catherine Wheel” tells us the sad story of St. Catherine, who was born at Alexandria, and for converting fifty heathen philosophers to Christianity was sentenced by the Emperor Maxentius to death on a wheel, devised by most ingenious cruelty, armed with knives, saws, and nails. It is recorded that she was rescued from this fate, but was afterwards beheaded (305 A.D.). It is curious that this instrument of torture and the story of St. Catherine’s heroism should be recorded on a signboard. But it may have been brought before the public by a certain miracle play, founded on the life of St. Catherine, which used to be performed on festival days. However, the Catherine wheel appears frequently on the coats-of-arms of several families, and it may be that the sign was taken from these.
“The George,” also, is a very popular sign; and the “St. George of merry England” is the patron saint of this country, and the battle-cry of her knights and yeomen of ancient days. Who does not remember that stirring scene on St. George’s Mount during the Crusades, described in Sir Walter Scott’s _Talisman_, when King Richard tore down the Austrian banner, which the Austrian monarch had dared to erect beside the Royal Standard of England? St George is generally represented as slaying a dragon. He was a soldier who served gallantly under the Emperor Diocletian, and commanded a legion of soldiers; he was a Christian, and by the dragon whom he slew is meant the devil, red with the blood of the Christians. So popular a personage as St. George, whose name inspired our ancestors with courage, and was often borne by them into the heart of the foe, would soon be recorded in paintings and become a general sign. “The Goat” is a common sign, and is taken from the crest of the Duke of Bedford; but “The Goat and Compasses” has puzzled many people as to its origin. It appears to be a corruption of a pious expression, “God encompasseth us”; and this shows how strangely words may be twisted and converted by ignorant and careless usage.
There are some very noted inns where great events have taken place, amongst which I may mention the Bull Inn at Coventry. Here Henry VII. was entertained the night before the battle of Bosworth Field, when he won for himself the English crown. Here Mary Queen of Scots was detained by order of Elizabeth. Here the conspirators of the Gunpowder Plot met to devise their scheme for blowing up the Houses of Parliament. And when the citizens refused to open their gates to Charles I. and his soldiers, no doubt there were great disputings amongst the frequenters of “The Bull” as to what would be the result of their disloyal refusal.
Some of the inns in remote country places did not enjoy a very enviable reputation, and were little better than man-traps, where the unfortunate traveller was robbed and murdered. At Blewbury, in Berkshire, there was an inn, the landlord of which was suspected of murdering his guests with great secrecy and mystery, and no one could tell what he did with the bodies of the victims he was supposed to have murdered. A few years ago an old tree in the neighbourhood of the inn was blown down, and on digging up the roots a skeleton was found among them. People wondered how it could have been placed there, but at last a very old inhabitant told the story of the mysterious disappearance of the bodies of the late landlord’s guests, and the mystery was at length accounted for. Whenever he slew a man he planted a tree, placing the body of the murdered victim beneath it. The constables never thought of looking there; and probably under every tree which he planted (and there were several), when their roots are dug up, the bones of his numerous victims will be discovered.
Another story is connected with the old “Hind’s Head” at Bracknell, which was another of these mantraps, where many travellers slept to rise no more. One winter’s night a stout-hearted farmer stayed there, and joined several jovial companions round the kitchen fire. They ate and drank merrily, and at last the serving-maid showed the traveller to his chamber. She told him that he was surrounded by robbers and murderers, showed him a trap-door at the side of the bed, on which if he stepped he would tumble headlong into a deep well. She directed him to tie the bed into a bundle, put it on the trap-door, and escape by the window. He did so; down went the bundle, instead of the farmer, into the well, and he managed to effect his escape. Rousing the neighbourhood he captured the villains, who were all executed, and the bones of many of their victims were found in the well. Happily such inns were rare.
To describe the conditions of the old inns for which England was famous, of the good fare which awaited the travellers by the coach, of the spacious corridors, of the comfortable beds hung with silk and smelling of lavender; to tell of all the great folk who entered their doors–kings, queens, poets, generals, highwaymen, statesmen, grooms, conspirators, coachmen–all this would require much space to relate. When railways came in, their ancient glory departed; the old stables are destroyed; grass grows in the courtyard; and the object of their existence has almost ceased to be.
CHAPTER XXIII
VILLAGE SUPERSTITIONS AND FOLKLORE
Belief in witches–Survival of water ordeal–Witches turned into hares– Cruelties practised on witches–Bishop Jewel on the “evil eye”– Fairies–Berkshire popular superstitions–Field-names–Homes of famous men–Washington Irving’s description of an English village–Rural exodus–Conclusion.
There is yet another class of subjects connected with old village life, of absorbing interest and importance. I refer to the old superstitions and folklore which still linger on in the recollections of the “oldest inhabitant,” and which ought to be at once treasured up, lest they should be altogether lost. The generation of those who believed firmly in the power of the “evil eye” of the witch, and who feared to disturb the revels of the fairies on their rings and mounds, is only just passing away. An old gipsy has told me some strange stories of the superstitions of former days. He has told me of the witch at Farnham who made the cows wild and prevented them from giving milk; of another witch who lived at Henley-on-Thames, and who when thrown into the river “floated like a cork.” Here we have a survival of the old Saxon method of trying culprits by the water ordeal, often used in examining witches. This particular witch could turn herself into a hare, so my venerable gipsy friend, aged one hundred and six years, informed me, and the dogs hunted her. He told me of the Tadley witch, who “wished” several people, and greatly injured them. It seems to have been a common practice of the old witches to turn themselves into hares, in order to vex the squires, justices, and country parsons, who were fond of hunting, as the old dames could elude the speed of the swiftest dogs. An old writer states “that never hunters nor their dogs may be bewitched, they cleave an oaken branch, and both they and their dogs pass over it.” Mary Dore, a witch of Beaulieu, Hampshire, used to turn herself into a hare in order to escape detection when caught in the act of wood-stealing, to which she was somewhat addicted.
Old women were rather harshly used in the days when people believed in the power of witches. If any farmer’s cattle died, it was immediately concluded that the animals were bewitched; and some wretched old woman was singled out, and summarily tried and burnt. If anyone fell ill, some “witch” had evidently a waxen image of the sufferer, and stuck needles into it; and such was the power of the witch that, wherever the person was, he felt the stab of the cruel needle. Hence the witch had to be found and burnt. If the corn crops failed, was not witchcraft the cause? for had not old Mother Maggs been heard to threaten Farmer Giles, and had not her black cat been seen running over his fields? Even good Bishop Jewel did not disbelieve in the power of the evil eye. In preaching before Queen Elizabeth he said: “It may please Your Grace to understand that witches and sorcerers are marvellously increased within Your Grace’s realm. Your Grace’s subjects pine away even unto the death, their colour fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft. I pray God they never practise further than on the subject.” To so great an extent did faith in the witches’ fatal power prevail. Our forefathers used to believe in the existence of other, and more pleasant little companions than the old toothless witches–the bright little fairies who, on account of the neglect which they have received from the present generation of Englishmen, have, so it is reported, left our shores in disgust, never to return. The previous inhabitants of our villages did not so treat them; and did not the fairies always bring them luck? They nailed the horseshoe to the stable door to keep out the witches, lest the old beldams should ride their steeds by night to the witches’ revels; but no one wished to exclude the fairies. Did not the dairymaids find the butter ready churned, and the cows milked by these kind assistants? Was there not an old lady in Yorkshire who knew all about the fairies, had often heard them making butter, and had seen the butter smeared all over the gate by a little green man with a queer cap who had been seen slipping under a culvert? Canon Atkinson told us of this lady who knew all these strange things, and of the Hart Hall “Hob” who worked so hard with his flail, and of many other curious folk who frequented the Yorkshire moors in olden days. The last witch had just died before he went to Danby, but he found the whole atmosphere of the folklore firmament so surcharged with the being and work of the witch, that he seemed able to trace her presence and her activity in almost every nook and corner of the neighbourhood.
The wells all over England were haunted by fairies, and is it not confidently asserted that “the good people” (as the fairies are called) live in wilds and forests, and shun great cities because of the wickedness which exists therein? Have they never appeared to the lonely traveller, clothed in green, with long hair floating over their shoulders, and with faces more blooming than the blush of a summer morning? Then there were the fairy rings formed by the dancing of their merry feet.
“Some say the screech-owl, at each midnight hour, Awakes the fairies in yon ancient tower. Their nightly dancing ring I always dread, Nor let my sheep within that circle tread; When round and round all night, in moonlight fair, They dance to some strange music in the air.”
Then there were brownies; and knockers, who worked in mines, and showed rich veins of silver; and elves–all of whom were included in old village superstitions, and many were the tales told of the good deeds they did, and the luck they brought. Nor must we forget the story of the invisible smith who inhabited Wayland Smith’s Cave, in Berkshire. Whenever a farmer tied up his horse in the cave, and left the money on a particular stone, on his return he found his horse shod by the kind efforts of the invisible smith. There is also the old Berkshire story of the old witch who lived in a cave by the roadside, and who, by the power of her “evil eye,” could stop the strongest team of horses, so that, however much the carters lashed and swore at them, the animals would not budge an inch until she permitted them to go. Here are a few of the common superstitions current in Berkshire. If a corpse be kept over a Sunday another death will occur before the week is out; should a big bumble-bee enter the window, a guest may be expected; and when the woodpecker, commonly called the yaffle, laughs, they say the rain is coming. When the thick mist lies in the valley, the people say it is the White Lady, a belief closely akin to the Dame Blanche, who is said in Normandy to haunt streams. If one row of freshly sown seeds or potatoes does not come up, it foretells a death in the family. If a girl mends her clothes on her back, she risks having a drunken husband. A screech-owl is unlucky, and so also is it if a bird fly against the window.
A woman came to the rectory a few years ago for a drop of sacramental wine, which she wanted for an infant who had “the graspings.” This complaint I discovered to be a craving for something, accompanied by restlessness; and it was supposed that a drop of sacramental wine would cure an infant so troubled. If the mother before the child was born craved for drink, this craving was communicated to the child, and could only be remedied by a drop of wine used in Holy Communion. This superstition, which I have met with elsewhere, probably is a relic of pre-Reformation days, and of sacramental Reservation.
A tramp was passing through a Hampshire village a short time ago, and calling at a house, begged for a glass of water. The woman who lived there said that she was sorry she could not give him water to drink, as there was a child in the house unbaptised, and therefore it would be unlucky. The origin of this superstition it is difficult to trace.
These are some of the legends and superstitions which linger amongst us. Every neighbourhood has its stories, its legends, and romantic histories. It is a sad pity that these should pass away without any record being made. Many curious customs and ceremonies relating to christenings, marriages, and burials linger in remote hamlets; and charms, curious remedies, and other relics of the quaint superstitions of our forefathers, are full of interest to the lover of our English villages.
As we walk in the fields, or study the old map of the parish, the names of the fields invite our attention. These are full of interest, and often tell us about matters which would be entirely forgotten. Some names tell us of the great forests which used to exist all over the country, when kings and noblemen, outlaws and poachers, used to hunt the deer and the wild boars in many a successful run. These forests were large tracts of country in its natural state, partly wood, partly heather and grass, which were owned by the king, and were especially brought under the harsh forest laws of the Norman sovereigns.
Some of our field-names remind us of the existence of these old forests where corn now grows, and also of swamps and islands where everything now is dry and far removed from water. Sometimes they tell us of the old common lands which used to be farmed by the villeins and borderers, and of the strange way in which they used to manage their farming. Each man used to keep one or more oxen for the village plough until they made up the team into eight; then they ploughed the land in strips of an acre or half-acre each, divided by a bit of unploughed turf called a balk. Each strip was a furlong, _i.e._ a “furrow long,” _i.e._ the length of the drive of a plough before it is turned. This was forty rods, or poles, and four of these furrows made up the acre. These pieces of land were called “shots,” and there were “headlands,” or common field-ways, to each shot; and “gored acres,” which were corners of the fields which could not be cut up into strips, and odds and ends of unused land, which were called “No Man’s Land,” or “Jack’s Land.” It is curious, too, that all the strips belonging to one man did not lie together, but were scattered all over the common land, which must have been a very inconvenient arrangement for farming purposes. There were also in each village community a blacksmith, whose duty it was to keep in repair the ironwork of the village ploughs, a carpenter for the woodwork, and a pound-keeper, or punder, who looked after the stray cattle. Many of the “balks” still remain on the hillsides where these old common lands existed, and the names of the fields bear witness to the prevalence of this old field system.
They tell us, too, of the way in which attempts were made to force the growth of particular crops, and in many parishes you will find a “flax piece,” which reminds us of a foolish Act of Henry VIII. ordering the cultivation of that plant. Metals, too, which have long ago been worked out, and trades which no longer exist, have left their traces behind in the names of our lanes and fields. Also they speak of the early days when the wolf or the bear might be seen in our woods or fields, or of the beaver which loved the quietude of our streams, of the eagle which carried off the lambs undisturbed by sound of the keeper’s gun. Sometimes he was disturbed in his thefts by the flight of a good strong English arrow, which came from a sturdy English bow drawn by a good strong English arm. The English archers were famous everywhere, and many a battle has been won by their valour and their skill. A law was passed in the reign of Edward IV. that every Englishman should have a bow of his own height, and that butts for the practice of archery should be set up in every village; and every man was obliged to shoot up and down on every feast-day, or be fined one halfpenny. Consequently, in some villages we find a field called “The Butts,” where this old practice took place.[11]
Many villages are associated with the lives of distinguished men–authors, soldiers, and statesmen. Perhaps your village may have bred other poets besides “the mute inglorious Milton” of Gray’s _Elegy_. Not far from where I am writing was Pope’s early home, the village of Binfield, which he calls–
“My paternal home,
A little house, with trees arow,
And, like its master, very low.”
On the other side lies the village of Three Mile Cross, where Miss Mitford lived and wrote “Our Village”; and Arborfield, called in her book Arborleigh, about which she tells some pleasant stories, is the adjoining parish. Sometimes, as I ride down a grassy lane, a favourite haunt of the distinguished authoress, I seem to see her seated on a fallen tree weaving her pretty romances, while her favourite dog, which she often describes, plays and barks around her. A few miles in another direction lies Eversley, the loved abode of Charles Kingsley, about whom many stories linger in the countryside. To visit the uncomfortable brick-paved study where he wrote, the garden where he used to pace and think out his great thoughts, is delightfully refreshing and invigorating to a jaded writer.
[Illustration: OLD COTTAGES]
These are only instances of places which have become interesting on account of the famous men who once lived in them; and England has many heroes of the sword and pen whose lives each Englishman should study; and when you visit their dwelling-places you will recall their achievements, and perhaps endeavour to imitate their examples. Here is an instance of how little the villagers know of the distinguished men who once lived amongst them. The great Duke of Wellington did not live a very long time ago, and yet some friends of mine who were staying at Strathfieldsaye, near the Iron Duke’s house, and made inquiries amongst the villagers about their recollections of the hero of Waterloo, could obtain no information. At last one venerable rustic vouchsafed the extraordinary intelligence, “I believe as ‘ow ‘e were very good at war”! What a thing it is to be famous!
Much more remains to be said upon the various subjects which this history of our village suggests. But the day is closing, and our walk through its sequestered lanes and our thoughts about the various scenes which yonder venerable oaks have witnessed, must cease. But enough has been said to show what a wealth of interest lies beneath the calm exterior of ordinary village life. An American truly observes that everything in the rural life of England is associated with ideas of order, of quiet, sober, well-established principles, of hoary usage, and reverent custom–the growth of ages of regular and peaceful existence. The impression which the appearance of an English village left on his mind is beautifully described in the following passage:–
“The old church of remote architecture with its low, massive portal, its gothic tower, its windows rich with tracery and painted glass, its scrupulous preservation, its stately monuments of warriors and worthies of olden times, ancestors of the present lords of the soil; its tombstones, recording successive generations of sturdy yeomanry, whose progeny still plough the same fields, and kneel at the same altar; the parsonage, a quaint, irregular pile, partly antiquated, but repaired and altered in the tastes of various eyes and occupants; the stile and footpath leading from the churchyard, across pleasant fields, and along shady hedgerows, according to an immemorial right-of-way; the neighbouring village, with its venerable cottages, its public green sheltered by trees, under which the forefathers of the present race have sported; the antique family mansion, standing apart in some little rural domain, but looking down with a protecting air on the surrounding scene. All these common features of English landscape evince a calm and settled security, and hereditary transmission of homebred virtues and local attachments, that speak deeply and touchingly for the moral character of the nation.”
One of the most distressing features of modern village life is the continual decrease of its population. All our young men flock to the towns, attracted by the greater excitement which town life offers, as compared with the more homely pleasures of the country. The rural exodus is an alarming and very real danger to the welfare of social England. Agricultural machinery has greatly diminished the number of labourers required on a farm. Agricultural depression and the decreased value of land have caused many old country families to close their old manor-houses, as they cannot afford to live on their estates.
Let us hope that those whose happy lot it is to live in the quiet hamlets of our native land, afar from the noise and din of busy towns, will learn to love more deeply their village homes, and interest themselves in their surroundings. To those who read the history of their native place, each house and field, each stone and tree, will tell its story, and recount the wonders it has witnessed. And as the stories of wars and fights, of superstition and of crime, fall on our ears, we shall be thankful that our lot is cast in more peaceful days, when no persecutions, religious or political, disturb the tranquillity of our village life. And when we read of the piety and simplicity of our forefathers, their veneration of their church, their love of home, their innocent joys and social customs, we should strive to imitate their virtues which have materially helped to make England a great and powerful nation. It is hoped that these chapters upon the old life of our country, and the manners and customs of our forefathers, may induce many of my readers to read and study history more deeply, may serve to create an interest in the relics that remain to us of the past, and to preserve the fleeting traditions that Time doth consecrate.
[11] In many cases the name “Butts” refers to the fact of the land, under the common-field system, _abutting_ on meadows or roads, _e.g._ “Butt-close,” in the parish of St. Mary Bourne.
APPENDIX
BOOKS AND DOCUMENTS RELATING TO PAROCHIAL HISTORY
To anyone who sets himself the task of writing a history of his village, the following notes may be useful. With regard to the etymology of the name, concerning which absurd errors are made in most guide books and old county histories, it would be well to consult Canon Taylor’s _Words and Places_, being careful to study the earliest form of the word in _Domesday_ and old documents. Bede’s _History_, the _Anglo-Saxon Chronicles_, and other old English chronicles, published by Bohn, may contain some allusions to the parish and neighbourhood, and also Kemble’s _Saxons in England_. The _Domesday Book_ is, of course, a mine of wealth. The Public Record Office contains many documents which will be of great service–the _Testa de Neville_ (Edward II.), _Marshall Rolls, Nonarum Inquisitiones, Pipe Rolls, Patent Rolls, Close Rolls, Hundred Rolls, Inquisitiones post-mortem_, and the _Feet of Fines_. The _Manor Court Rolls_, if they still exist, in the custody of the lord of the manor, should also be consulted. The journals of local antiquarian societies and county histories will of course be examined. The history of the families connected with the parish must be traced. The British Museum and the College of Arms contain fine collections of _Heralds’ Visitations_, and Burke’s _Landed Gentry_ and Dugdale’s _Baronage_ are the chief sources of information. Old _wills_ will yield much information, many of which are in course of publication by the Index Society, and county archaeolgical journals; and Somerset House and many diocesan registries contain the original documents. The Historical Manuscripts Commission has published many volumes of borough records which are of great service, and the lives of any great men connected with the parish may be studied in the _Dictionary of National Biography_. As we have already pointed out, the parish chest contains valuable sources of information upon the history of the village, and its contents should be carefully examined.
The registers of the diocese contain many documents relating to the ecclesiastical history of the parish, and from them we can obtain a list of the rectors or vicars. If the church was connected with any monastery, Dugdale’s _Monasticon_ will furnish some information. The Public Record Office contains the documents _Taxatio Ecclesiastica P. Nicholai IV._ and _Valor Ecclesiasticus_, which give an account of the value of the first-fruits and tenths, and also some volumes on the sale of chantries, and the inventories of church goods. The name of the saint to whom the church is dedicated must not always be accepted, in spite of years of usage, and should be confirmed by reference to some early will of a chief person of the village buried in the church, which usually gives the name of the patron saint. The story of the church writ in stone should be traced by the various styles of architecture, with the help of Rickman’s _Gothic Architecture_ or Parker’s _Glossary of Gothic Architecture_. If there has ever been a monastery in the parish, Dugdale’s _Monasticon_ should be consulted; and if there are any remains of a castle, Clark’s _Mediaeval Military Architecture in England_ will be useful. Prehistoric remains, such as barrows, earthworks, pit dwellings, and caves should be described; also any Roman roads and villas; the flora and fauna of the neighbourhood, geology, folklore, and dialect.
The following books are recommended:–
Evans’ _Ancient Stone Implements of Great Britain_. Evans’ _ Ancient Bronze Implements_.
Boyd Dawkins’ _Cave Hunting_.
Boyd Dawkins’ _Early Man in Britain_. Greenwell’s _British Barrows_.
Fergusson’s _Rude Stone Monuments_. Cox’s _How to Write the History of a Parish_. Wright’s _Essays on Archaeological Subjects_. Parker’s _Mediaeval Domestic Architecture_. Sims’ _Manual for the Topographer and Genealogist_. Burn’s _History of Parish Registers_.
Seebohm’s _English Village Community_. Toulmin Smith’s _English Gilds_.
Haine’s _Manual of Monumental Brasses_. Bloxam’s _Principles of Gothic Architecture_. Tanner’s _Notitia Monastica_.
Cutts’ _Middle Ages_.
Lee’s _Glossary of Liturgical and Ecclesiastical Terms_.
INDEX
Akeman Street, 60
Aldhelm, church-builder, 103
Alfriston clergy-house, 180
_Alignements_, 46
Allington rectory, 180
Almshouses, 181
Altars, 191
Amphitheatre, Roman, 67
Anchoresses, 183
Anchor-hold, 183
Anglo-Saxon villages, 74-89
Archery, 277, 298
Architecture, English, 102-24
Arresting a dead body, 227
Arrow-heads, 20
_Art of Husbandry_, 255
Astrology, belief in, 222
Aumbry, 192
Avebury cromlech, 46
B
Ball-flower moulding, 118
Barkham in _Domesday_, 128
Barnack Church, 106
Barrows or tumuli, 23-3
” long and round, 25
” near churchyards, 23
” Saxon, 90-3
” their contents, 24, 29
Basilica, Roman, 66
Beacons, 268
Beating the bounds, 276
Bede, 75
Bell-ringing customs, 250
Bells, 245-53
” christening of, 246
” inscription on, 247-50
Benedict Biscop, 103
Benedictine monks, 161
Bewcastle cross, 98
Bishops, treating of, 229
Black Death, 255
Blood-letting, 167-9
Blowing Stone, 52
_Bordarii_, 131
Border castles, 140
Brachycephalic race, 21
Brasses, monumental, 212-18
Bridal cup, 207
Brief Book, 226
Brighthampton, pit dwellings at, 33 British Church, 93
” oppida, 34
” roads, 60, 61
” saints and martyrs, 94
Bronze Age, 21, 40
Budworth hermitage, 182
Burial urns, 29, 30
” urns in woollen, 220
C
Caesar’s camps, 50
Camps, 50-52
Carthusian monks, 162
Castles, 135-53
Cave men, 16
Celts, 21, 34, 37, 56
Cemeteries, Saxon, 92
Censers, 205
Chancels, 190
Charles II., adventures of, 267
Chaucer’s satire on monks, 160
Chepstow Castle, 140
Chest, parish, 218-29
Chivalry, 143, 148
Chrismatory, 206
Christmas in olden time, 278
Chun Castle, 51
Church ales, 258
Church bells, 245-53
” house, 258
” plate, 200-8
” yard, 243
Churches, parish, 184 99
Churchwardens’ account books, 223-6 Cistercian monks, 114, 161
Civil War, effects of, 153, 220, 265 Cloister of monastery, 163
Cluny, monks of, 161
Consecration crosses, 239
Conversion of Saxons, 94, 95
Crannogs, 38
Cremation, 28, 29, 92
Cromlechs, 46-9
Crosses, Saxon, 95-101
Cross-legged effigies, 211
Cucking-stool, 280
D
Decay of old sports, 271
Decorated architecture, 117
Desecration of monasteries, 159
Devil’s Highway, 61
Dog-tooth ornament, 116
Dog-whipper, 228
Dolichocephalic race, 19
Dolmen, 49, 50
_Domesday Book_, 125-34
Donnington Castle, 152
Druids, 48, 50
E
Early English architecture, 115-17
Earthworks, 50-6
Easter sepulchre, 193
Edge Hill, battle of, 264
Edwardian castles, 140
Emblems on brasses, 217
Enstone, menhir at, 45
Eslithic man, 14
Epitaphs, curious, 243
Ermyn Street, 60
“Evil eye,” 291-3
F
Fairford windows, 232
Fairies, 56, 293
Fairs, 261
Feudalism, 141
Field-names, 296-8
Flint implements, discovery of, 11
Flint implements, 15, 20
Fonts, 186
Food in barrows, 24, 25
Football, 277
Force-pump, Roman, 68
Frescoes, 234
Friars, preaching, 161
Future life, belief in, shown by barrows, 24
G
Gambassi, glass-painter, 232
_Geburs_, 82
Gentleman, accomplishments of a, 149 Geological changes, 11-13
Glaciers in Britain, 12
Glass, stained, 230-3
Glastonbury, pit dwellings at, 37, 41, 42 Green, village, 8, 280
Grims-dike, 54, 55
Grosmont Castle, 141
Guizot on castles, 141
H
Hagioscopes, 194
Hall marks, 208
Harvest homes, 275
Hastings, battle of, 264
Heart burial, 222
Hedsor, pile dwellings at, 37, 38
_Hereivard the Wake_, 264
Hermits, 181
Hexham church, 104
” crosses, 99
Highwaymen, 283
Hocktide sports, 225, 273
Homes of famous men, 298
Hospitium of monastery, 169
House, evolution of country, 172-7
Hundreds, origin of, 87
Hurstbourne, Hants, pit dwellings at, 34
I
Ice Age, 12, 13
Iknield Street, 60
Ilkley cross, 99
Inigo Jones, 176
Inns, 7, 282-90
Inventories, 201
Iron Age, 21
” work in churches, 233
_Itinerary_ of Antoninus, 59
J
Jervais, glass-painter, 232
Johnson, Dr., on monasteries, 159
K
Keep of Norman castle, 137
Kelvedon rectory, 179
Kenilworth Castle, 151
King’s evil, 228
Knaresborough hermitage, 182
Knighthood, admission to, 145
L
Laindon reclusorium, 183
Lammas lands, 79
Lecterns, 191
Legends, 44, 55, 263
“Lepers’ windows,” 195
Lich-gate, 242
Local Government, 254
Low side windows, 195
M
Manor-house, 172-7
Manors, 79, 133
Man-traps, 289
Markets, 260
May Day, 225, 273
Mediaeval village, 254-70
Menhir, 45
“Merry England,” 256
Milestones, Roman, 61
Miracle plays, 274
_Misereres_, 191
Monasteries, Saxon, 102
” 154-71
” charity of, 159
Monastic day, 166, 167
” inns, 282
Monks, benefits conferred by, 155
” corruption of, 160
Monstrances, 206
Monumental effigies, 209-12
Mothering Sunday, 273
Mouldings, Decorated, 118, 120
” Early English, 116
” Norman, 112
” Perpendicular, 123
Mural paintings, 234-41
N
Neolithic man, 15, 18, 20, 37
Norman architecture, 109-15
” castles, 135-53
” place-names, 132
” villages, 125-34
Normans, coming of, 125
O
Ockwells manor-house, 173
Ogee arch, 118
Organised condition of society among prehistoric races, 31 Ornaments, Saxon, 91
_Osculatorium_, 192
Oxford, poor scholar of, 229
P
Pageants, 149-52
Paleolithic man, 14
Palimpsests, 213
Parish chest, 218-29
” registers, 218-23
Paschall money, 225
Pastimes, 271-81
Pavements, Roman, 71, 72
Pax, 192, 206
Perpendicular architecture, 120
Pews, 187
_Piers Ploughman_, 165, 174, 181
Pile dwellings, 37-43
Pilgrimages, 259
Piscina, 192
Pit dwellings, 33-7
Place-names, 76, 101
Plague, 255-7
Plate, church, 200-8
” ” in bishop’s coffin, 202
Ploughman’s lament, 84
Plough Monday, 272
Porch, 185
“Pot-boilers,” 36
Pre-Reformation plate, 202-5
Pulpits, 188
Pytheas of Marseilles, 10
Pyx, 191, 206
Q
Quintain, 277
R
Raglan Castle, 141
Reading Abbey, 171
Reading-pews, 197
Reclusorium, 183
” at Rettenden, 183
Rectories, 177-81
Registers, parish, 218-23
Religion of Saxons, 93
“Restoration,” 199
Rollright Stones, 46, 47
Roman relics, 57-73
” rig, 54
” roads, 58-62
” villas, 70-3
Rood-loft, 188
Royal arms in churches, 190
Rural exodus, 300
Rush-bearing, 276
Ruthwell cross, 97
Ryknield Street, 60
S
Sacring bell, 252
St. Christopher, 238
Salisbury Cathedral, 115
Saltways, 61
Sanctus bell, 252
Saxon architecture, 106-9
” house, 172
” monasteries, 102
” place-names, 76, 77