On Shrove Tuesday it was the general custom in pre-Reformation times to call the people to church, that they might confess their sins before Lent; this was done by one of the bells being rung, or more likely tolled, but in later times the real reason for which its sound was heard has been forgotten by the people, and where the custom has been kept up it has now got to be called “The Pancake Bell,” because it is usual to have pancakes upon this day, the last of feasting, before the fast of Lent begins, and Shrove Tuesday is often known by the name of “Pancake Tuesday.” This bell is rung in a great many places, though the present writer never happened to hear it: noon is the usual time for it to be heard, and at Navenby it used to be rung by the eldest apprentice in the place, but this part of the custom is now obsolete. Our forefathers believed that the ringing of church bells had the effect of allaying storms; this is illustrated by an entry in the Spalding churchwardens’ accounts:—“1519 It’m pd. for ryngng when the Tempest was, iijd.”
In some parts of the country the bells were rung on the fifth of August to celebrate the escape of James I. from the Gowrie Plot; there are charges for ringing on this day to be found in the churchwardens’ accounts of Kirton-in-Lindsey at various times during the seventeenth century. In the same parish there was also the custom of ringing what is in some parts of the country known as the “Market Bell,” but here it was, and we believe is still, called the “Winter Ringing,” because it was only done during the months of November, December, and January, from seven until eight o’clock, on Tuesday and Thursday evenings—on the former night to guide people home who had attended the Gainsborough market, and upon the latter to aid those who had been to Brigg market to find their way back again. This was a useful precaution when the country was unenclosed, as the sound of the bells told people when they were going in the right direction; the same was done in the neighbouring parish of Scotton on the Tuesday night. The custom is still kept up at Kirton-in-Lindsey during November and December, but we believe the bells are not heard upon these two evenings after Christmas, the modern idea being that the ringers are practising for that great festival of the Church.
Bells very often had names bestowed upon them; there is one in St. Mark’s Church, Lincoln, always spoken of as “Old Kate,” and “Great Tom” of Oxford has a world-wide reputation. Many old bells have unfortunately been sold, in some cases to obtain money with which to repair the churches; in others we fear the money merely went into the pocket of the holder of the living, or those of the churchwardens; it was for the former reason that two bells at Cadney were parted with during the last century. A writer in the Gentleman’s Magazine, in 1849 (p. 158), states that there is reason to believe that, since the death of Edward VI., not less than four hundred bells have, from one cause or another, been lost in Lincolnshire alone.
In some parishes the bells are rung at the close of the morning service upon Sunday, and at Harpswell it was, until very lately, the custom to ring a bell at noon if by any chance there should be no morning service. It is popularly said, but on what authority we know not, that this bell was meant to warn those who were preparing dinner that the time for that important meal had nearly arrived. The custom of ringing a bell at the conclusion of the morning service still obtains at Kirkleatham. Inscriptions upon bells are very common, sometimes they are in English, but on the older bells it is more usual to find them in Latin. There is a bell at Alkborough which is believed to be of the early part of the fourteenth century, with the following inscription upon it:—
“Jesu For Yi Moder Sake Save All
Ye Sauls That Me Gart Make
Amen.”
At Semperingham, on an early sixteenth bell, there is to be found a very useful piece of advice:—
“Be Not Ouer Busie;”
and a bell at Benniworth merely puts on record the year in which it was made:—“Anno Domini 1577;” is by no means an uncommon thing to find only a date upon bells. Many of them have the names of the churchwardens for the time being, or the name of the giver of the bell or bells; at Burgh we find:—
“William Pavlin chimed so well
He payd for casting of this bell. 1589.”
Most likely he was one of the ringers, but whether he gave the bell, or only paid for its recasting, we do not know. In certain parishes the bells are tolled before midnight on the thirty-first of December for the dying year; then comes a few minutes pause, and a joyous peal heralds the advent of the new year. This is done, amongst other places, at Kirton-in-Lindsey; the writer heard 1893 tolled out and 1894 ushered in with a peal on those beautiful bells; and we know that it was the custom there in 1632, for we find under that date in the churchwardens’ accounts:—“Item to the ringers of new yeare day morninge xijd.” The church of this parish is dedicated to S. Andrew, and in 1658, there is an entry as follows:—“It’ to the ringers on St. Andrewes day 0 1 0.” The patron saint of Scotland seems in some parts of England to be held in high esteem; in Lincolnshire alone there are no less than sixty-eight churches dedicated to him. There is a curious tradition about the most widely known bell in Lincolnshire; it is to the effect that, when at the recasting of “Great Tom of Lincoln” in the Minster Yard, sometime during the January of 1610-11, that certain of the pious citizens determined to do all that lay in their power to make the tone of the bell as pure as possible, and therefore threw into the molten mass of metal much treasure in the form of silver tankards, spoons, and sundry other objects formed of that precious metal. That there is not the slightest truth in the story was clearly proved when the bell was once more recast in 1834, for upon a piece of the metal of which it was composed being assayed, it was found to contain a very small proportion of silver. It is strange that this belief in the power of silver to add sweetness to the tone of bells should be such a general one; we find it existing in almost all the countries of Europe, in spite of the fact that the experiment of mixing an undue proportion of this metal has always been found to impair their sound. The writer was once informed that the reason the bells of S. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, London, are so wonderfully sweet and clear in tone is owing to the fact that Nell Gwynn, who gave them to the church, insisted upon having a quantity of silver thrown into the metal when it was fusing. Poor pretty, sinning Nell, she was religious after a manner, and she has lain in S. Martin’s Church upwards of two hundred years, whilst the bells she gave have sounded, and still sound, above her grave. She left a bequest to the ringers, the interest of which was to be devoted to purchasing a leg of mutton for them to sup upon every Monday evening.