But to return to my bells. The perpetuation of the old custom of ringing each night what is called the Curfew Bell in my Tower is well known to us all. This Curfew ringing is now an anachronism, but it doubtless was a great boon at the time of its foundation, seeing that so many legacies were left in various places, as here, for the purpose of having a “Curfew” rung each night in perpetuity.
My Curfew Bell, instituted and endowed in 1457, by Mr. John Colston, and who was buried in St. Giles’s Church, has now rung continuously for some 450 years. And although some people may think this evening tolling of a bell for a quarter of an hour a nuisance, it has in this particular case this merit, that it acts, or has done, as a sort of daily almanac, seeing that the day of the month is told at the end of the quarter of an hour’s ringing, each evening, by a number of strokes on a different bell, corresponding to the day of the month.
The name “Curfew,” you doubtless know to be derived from the French Couvre-feu, or cover fire. And also that the custom in olden times of a public ringing of a bell, or sounding a horn, for the putting out of fires and retiring into houses for the night, arose from the out-door dangers of those less civilised times, and from the inflammable nature of many of the wooden and thatched houses then existing. One such fire in Norwich (in 1507) is said to have destroyed seven hundred houses, including many in my own parish. Who does not know Gray’s lines on this Curfew custom?
“The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea;
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.”
And we doubtless also remember Longfellow’s beautiful verses on this old custom:—
“Solemnly, mournfully,
Dealing its dole,
The Curfew Bell
Is beginning to toll.“Cover the embers,
And put out the light;
Toil comes with the morning,
And rest with the night.“Dark grow the windows,
And quenched is the fire;
Sound fades into silence;
All footsteps retire.“No voice in the chambers,
No sound in the hall;
Sleep and oblivion
Reign over all!”
With all this, and what I have now said, I think I may claim that I—the Tower—have fully discharged the general duty of public usefulness, and am a great public benefactor. My beacon pail is no longer required; but by my weather-cock I tell the direction of the wind; by my clock I tell the time of day; and by the final strokes of my curfew bell at night, I act as an almanac, and tell the day of the month—for the benefit not only of my neighbours, but to the great multitude of the passers-by. [108] And let it not be forgotten that all this implies not only the discharge of public duty, but also the expenditure of money, necessary to keep the various arrangements for these in correct and working order—money which has to be provided by the parish of St. Giles.
Opinions as to the desirability of the ringing of the Church Bells in towns differ, as we know, considerably. And every now and then we read a letter in a newspaper in condemnation of them. But I believe that those who think thus are in a very small minority. I have said how well they emphasize such occasions as weddings, and funerals. And I think they most appropriately add to the expression of public rejoicing on such occasions as the election of a new Mayor, or a royal visit, or a royal anniversary—or especially on the eve of such a great Christian festival as Christmas or Easter. But beyond all this, I (the Tower) consider that they are in the best sense public music, and that when well rung this music is of a very high order indeed. Who does not recognise the grandeur of the great twelve-bell peal of St. Peter Mancroft, as rung by the skilled ringers of that church, or the solemnity imparted to a public mourning by the muffled peal occasionally rung, on the departure from this world of some great local or national citizen?
In country villages I know that the possession of a good peal of church bells is usually very highly appreciated, and the practice of the ringing cannot be otherwise than an excellent musical training for the young men of the parish.
It is curious how little regard Jackdaws pay to the noise of clanging bells. In my tower, as elsewhere, they habitually build their nests, and rear their young, apparently quite free from alarm at the noise. From their constant selection of church towers as breeding places, may we not suppose that these birds have ears for music, or may even practice singing amongst their family parties, to the accompanying chimes?