Mr. Lupson tells of his strange experiences when conducting visitors round the church, and explaining to them the varied objects of interest. What our clerks have to put up with may be news to many. I will give it in his own words:
Although a congenial and profitable engagement, it was often felt to be weary work, talking about the same things many times each day week after week: and anything but easy to exhibit the freshness and retain the vivacity that was desirable. Fortunately the monotony of the recital found considerable relief from the varied receptions it met with. Among the many thousand individuals, of all grades and classes, from the highest to the lowest, thus come in contact with, a diversified and wide range of characters was inevitable. The vast majority happily consisted of persons with whom it was pleasant to spend half an hour within the sacred walls, so gratified were they with what they saw and heard: some proving so enthusiastic, and showing such absorbing interest, that at every convenient halting-place they would take a seat, and comfortably adjust themselves as if preparing to hear an address from a favourite preacher. Occasionally, however, we had to endure the presence of persons who appeared to be suffering from disordered livers, or had nettles in their boots, so restless and dissatisfied were they. Scarcely anything pleased them. Undesirable individuals would sometimes be discovered in the midst of otherwise pleasant parties. Of such may be mentioned those who knew of much finer churches they could really admire. Whenever we heard the preface--"There's one thing strikes me in this church"--we were prepared to hear a depreciatory remark of some kind. Some would take pleasure in breaking the sequence of the story by anticipating matters not then reached, and causing divers interruptions. Others would annoy by preferring persistent speaking to listening. It was trying work going round with, and explaining to, persons from whom nothing but mono-syllables could be drawn, either through nervousness, or from realising their exalted status to be miles above the person who was supposing himself able to interest them. Anything but desirable persons were they who, after going round the church, returned with other friends, and then posed as men whose knowledge of the building was equal, if not a shade superior, to that of the guide. Some parties would waste the time, and try one's patience by having amongst them laggards, to whom explanations already given had to be repeated. But we must pass by others, and proceed. The mind would sometimes find diversion by observing the idiosyncrasies, and detecting the pretensions of individuals. Gradually gaining acquaintance as we proceeded, we occasionally discovered some were aping gentility: some assuming positions that knew them not, and some claiming talents they did not possess. We will unmask a specimen of the latter class. A man, who was unaccompanied by friends, wished to see the church he had heard so much of. He seemed about thirty years of age; was a made-up exquisite, looking very imposing, peering as he did through gold-rimmed spectacles. His talents were of such an order he could not think of hiding them. He had learned Hebrew, not from printed books, as ordinary scholars are wont to do, but from MSS., and found it so easy a matter, it "only took two hours," and it was simply "out of curiosity" that he undertook it. Before mentally placing this paragon among the classics, we showed him our MS. Roll (exquisitely written, as many visitors are aware, in unpointed Hebrew), and asked him to read a few words. This was indeed pricking the bubble. Tell it not in Gath, but publish we will, the discovery we instantly made. Our Hebrew scholar had forgotten that Hebrew ran from right to left! and worse still, he even shook his intellectual head, and gravely confessed that he "wasn't quite sure but that the Roll was written in Greek."
Other sources of relief to the mind jaded with constant repetition arose from the peculiar remarks that were made, and the strange questions that were often asked.
The organ has been a source of wonderment to multitudes who had never seen or heard of a divided organ. Wonderful stories had reached the ears of some respecting it.
"Is this the organ that was wrecked?" "Is this the organ that was dug out of the sea?" "Is this the organ that was taken out of the Spanish galleon?" "Wasn't this organ smuggled out of some ship?" "Didn't it belong to Handel?" "Wasn't this organ made for St. Peter's at Rome?" With confidence says one, "This organ really belongs to the continent; it was confiscated in some war." Whilst another as confidently asserts that "it was built in Holland for one of the English cathedrals, and the vessel that conveyed it was caught in a storm and wrecked upon Yarmouth beach; it was then taken possession of by the inhabitants and erected in this church." Others, wishing to show their intimate knowledge of this instrument, have told their friends that the trumpet, which is a solid piece of wood, held by the angel at the summit of the northern organ-case, is only blown at the death of a royal person. And a lady, instead of informing her friend that it was a vox humana stop, called it a vox populi.
We were asked by one, "Did this organ break the windows? I was told a festival service was going on, the organist blew the trumpet stop, and broke the windows." Another inquiry was, "Who invented the pedals of this organ? We were told that quite a youth believed that pedals would improve it. He added them, and to the day of his death, whenever he was within a few miles of Yarmouth, he would come and hear them." In our hearing one man informed another that "this organ has miles of piping running somewhere about the town underground." The queries we have had to answer have been exceedingly numerous. Looking at the enclosure containing the console of the organ, a visitor wished to know whether the organist sat inside there. Another asked whether it was the vestry. One who saw great possibilities in such an organ inquired, "Can he play this organ in any other place beside the key-board?" The pulpit being of so unique a character has had a full share of attention, and no lack of admirers. Gazing at it with eyes filled with wonderment, a woman said to her daughter, "Maria, you're not to touch not even the pews." Everything within sight of such a structure she held sacred. Astonished at its internal capacity, another asked, "Do all the clergy sit in it?" Not realising its true character and intent, a lady wished to know, "By whom was this monument erected?" As we had long since ascertained how impossible it was to please everybody, we were not surprised to find dissatisfied critics presenting themselves. One of this class said, "It looks like a tomb, and smells like a coffin." Another, with sarcastic wit, said, "Moses looks like some churchwarden who would have to be careful how he ate his soup." We append a few more questions we have had to answer:
"Was this church built by St. Nicholas?"
"Does this church stand in four parishes?"
"How many miles is it round the walls of this church?"