“Sometimes the bells were cast in the interior of the building, as at St. Albans, where, in the beginning of the 14th century, the great bell called the ‘Amphibalus,’ being broken, was cast in the hall of the sacristy. In some places, Kirkby Malzeard, and Haddenham, for instance, the bells were cast in the church itself. But most frequently the churchyard was chosen for the purpose. At Scalford, during excavations made some time ago, there were found traces of a former furnace, and also a mass of bell metal, which had evidently been melted on the spot; about 1876, the churchyard of Empingham yielded a similar instance. The bells of Meaux Abbey were cast within the precincts. Coming down to more recent times we find the bell-founders obviating risks of transit by the same means. The ‘Great Tom’ of Lincoln, in 1610, and the great bell of Canterbury, in 1762, were cast in the yards of their respective cathedrals. It was customary also for bell craftsmen to settle awhile in a particular locality, and thence extend their business from that centre to the churches around. This was done in 1734 by Daniel Hedderly, of Bawtry, at Winterton, in Lincolnshire, and by Henry Bagley, who advertised in 1732, that he would ‘cast any ring or rings of bells in the town they belong.’ Latterly, however, the improved roads and means of transit have enabled bells to be cast in their proper foundries, and then conveyed to their posts of office.”
Sundials were most commonly placed on the south wall of the church, but many a churchyard is graced by these obsolete time-keepers. At Kilham, East Yorkshire, opposite the door of the south porch of the church, a stone coffin has been sunk, head foremost, about half its length in the ground, and on the foot of this coffin a sundial was placed in 1769, and is still in a good state of preservation.
Wimborne Minster, Dorset, boasts a dial which must not be missed. It is dated 1732, and is to be found under the yew tree in the Minster yard, though its original position was on the gable of the north transept. It is of stone, 6 ft. in height; its south face is 4 ft. in width, and its east and west faces 3 ft. respectively, each of which bears a gnomon—a somewhat unusual feature.
A few miles from Canterbury, in Chilham churchyard, stands a beautiful sundial, the graceful stone pedstal of which was designed by the famous Inigo Jones.
Sundials have become well nigh useless owing to improved methods of keeping time, but one loves to see these relics which link us to a past which, with all its disadvantages, has many pleasant bye-paths for the men of to-day.
The stocks were sometimes placed in the churchyard, though more frequently near the village cross or in the market place. In 1578, tenpence was paid “for a hinging locke to the stockes in the Mynster Yearde,”[14] and again in 1693 “for rebuilding the gallows in the Horse faire, and the stocks in the Minster yard, £5 5s. 10d.” The stocks at Beverley Minster were movable, and placed in the yard when required for use.
A strange scene was enacted in St. Paul’s churchyard, in May, 1531. According to Fox, the well known writer on martyrs, Bishop Stokesley “caused all the New Testament of Tyndal’s translation, and many other books which he had bought, to be openly burnt in St. Paul’s churchyard.”
A curious act of penance was performed in Hull, in 1534, by the vicar of North Cave. He had made a study of the work of the Reformers, who had settled in Antwerp, and sent their books over to England. In a sermon preached in the Holy Trinity Church, Hull, he advocated their teaching, and for this he was tried for heresy and convicted. He recanted, and as an act of penance, one Sunday, he walked round the church barefooted, with only his shirt on, and carrying a large faggot in his hand to represent the punishment he deserved.
Crosses have always been deemed a fitting emblem and suitable ornament for churchyards. Many ancient, interesting, and valuable crosses are yet to be found, notably at Ilkley, Crowle, Bakewell, and Eyam, the latter of which lay in pieces in a corner of the churchyard, until restored by John Howard, the philanthropist.
One result of church restoration by vicars, strangers to the place and people, and but newly installed, is the formation of a rubbish heap, in some neglected or unseen corner of the churchyard. Here are thrown, carelessly, cruelly, wantonly, costly stones of marble, alabaster, or granite, removed from the interior of the church, because there is no representative to plead for their safety. Boys clamber over the wall, make houses of the slabs, and for one brief hour, “dwell in marble halls,” then go home and carry off the smaller pieces to ornament a rockery. It has been my good fortune, on more than one occasion, to rescue a monumental slab from destruction, and place it in the hands of the present representative of the family mentioned thereon.