I wish the ropes were round your necks,
And you about them swinging.
How very wise those Spanish innkeepers were who, in the olden time, used to make “ruido” an item in their bills, charging their guests with the noise they made!
[p 133]
Stories about Bells.
By J. Potter Briscoe, F.R.H.S.
On the eve of the feast of Corpus Christi the choristers of Durham Cathedral ascend the tower, and, clad in their fluttering robes of white, sing the Te Deum. This custom is performed to commemorate the miraculous extinguishing of a conflagration on that night in the year 1429. The legend goes that, whilst the monks were engaged in prayer at midnight, the belfry was struck by the electric current and set on fire. Though the flames continued to rage until the middle of the next day, the tower escaped serious damage, and the bells were uninjured—an escape which was imputed to the special interference of the incorruptible S. Cuthbert, who was enshrined in that cathedral. These are not the bells which now reverberate
among the housetops on the steep banks of the Wear, they having been cast by Thomas Bartlett during the summer of 1631.
The fine peal of bells in Limerick Cathedral were originally brought from Italy, having been [p 134] manufactured by a young native, who devoted himself enthusiastically to the work, and who, after the toil of many years, succeeded in finishing a splendid peal, which answered all the critical requirements of his own musical ear. Upon these bells the artist greatly prided himself, and they were at length bought by the prior of a neighbouring convent at a very liberal price. With the proceeds of that sale the young Italian purchased a little villa, where, in the stillness of the evening, he could enjoy the sound of his own melodious bells from the convent cliff. Here he grew old in the bosom of his family and of domestic happiness. At length, in one of those feuds common to the period, the Italian became a sufferer amongst many others. He lost his all. After the passing of the storm, he found himself preserved alone amid the wreck of fortune, friends, family, and home. The bells too—his favourite bells—were carried off from the convent, and finally removed to Ireland. For a time their artificer became a wanderer over Europe; and at last, in the hope of soothing his troubled spirit, he formed the resolution of seeking the land to which those treasures of his memory had been conveyed. He sailed for Ireland. Proceeding [p 135] up the Shannon one beautiful evening, which reminded him of his native Italy, his own bells suddenly struck upon his ear! Home, and all its loving ties, happiness, early recollections, all—all were in the sound, and went to his heart. His face was turned towards the cathedral in the attitude of intently listening. When the vessel reached its destination the Italian bellfounder was found to be a corpse!
Odoceus, Bishop of Llandaff, removed the bells from his cathedral during a time of excommunication. Earlier still they are assumed to have been in use in Ireland as early as the time of S. Patrick, who died in 493. In those days much superstitious feeling, as in later ages, hung around the bells, and many sweetly pretty and very curious legends are known respecting them. Thus it is said S. Odoceus, of Llandaff, being thirsty after undergoing labour, and more accustomed to drink water than anything else, came to a fountain in the vale of Llandaff, not far from the church, that he might drink. Here he found women washing butter after the manner of the country. Sending to them his messengers and disciples they requested that they would accommodate them with a vessel that their [p 136] pastor might drink therefrom. These mischievous girls replied, “We have no other cup besides that which we hold in our hands,” namely, the butter. The man of blessed memory taking it, formed one piece into the shape of a small bell, and drank from it. The story goes that it permanently remained in that form, so that it appeared to those who beheld it to consist altogether of the purest gold. It is preserved in the church at Llandaff, and it is said that, by touching it, health is given to the diseased.
The bell of S. Mura was formerly regarded with superstitious reverence in Ireland, and any liquid drunk from it was believed to have peculiar properties in alleviating human suffering; hence the peasant women of the district in which it was long preserved particularly used it in cases of child-birth, and a serious disturbance was excited on a former attempt to sell it by its owner. Its legendary history relates that it descended from the sky ringing loudly, but as it approached the concourse of people who had assembled at the miraculous warning, the tongue detached itself and returned towards the skies; hence it was concluded that the bell was never to be profaned by sounding on earth, but was to be kept for [p 137] purposes more holy and beneficent. This is said to have happened on the spot where once stood the famous Abbey of Fahan, near Innishowen, in county Donegal, founded in the seventh century by S. Mura, or Muranus.