The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 335, October 11, 1828. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
p>The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction / Volume 12, No. 335, October 11, 1828
LAVENHAM CHURCH
Lavenham, or Lanham, a small town north of Sudbury, was once eminent for its manufactures, when there were eight or nine cloth-halls in the place, inhabited by rich clothiers. The De Veres, Earls of Oxford, whose names are blazoned in our history, held the manor from the reign of Henry I. till that of Elizabeth, and one of the noble family obtained a charter from Edward III. authorizing his tenants at this place to pass toll-free throughout all England, which grant was confirmed by Elizabeth. But the manufacturing celebrity of Lavenham has dwindled to spinning woollen yarn, and making calimancoes and hempen cloth; the opulent clothiers have shuffled off their mortal coil, and proved that “the web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.”
The church of Lavenham is, however, a venerable wreck of antiquity, and is accounted the most beautiful fabric of the kind in Suffolk. It is chiefly built of freestone, the rest being of curious flintwork; its total length is 150 feet, and its breadth 68. From concurrent antiquarian authorities we learn that the church was built by the De Veres, in conjunction with the Springs, wealthy clothiers at Lavenham. This is attested by the different quarterings of their respective arms on the building. The porch is an elegant piece of architecture, very highly enriched with the shields, garters, &c. of many of the most noble families in the kingdom, among which are the letters I.O., probably intended for the initials of John, the 14th Earl of Oxford, who married the daughter of Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. He is conjectured to have erected this porch.
In the interior, the roof is admirably carved, and the pews belonging to the Earls of Oxford and the Springs, though now much decayed, were highly-finished pieces of Gothic work in wood. Some of the windows are still embellished with painted glass, representing the arms of the De Veres and others. Here also is a costly monument of alabaster and gold, erected to the memory of the Rev. Henry Copinger,1 rector of Lavenham, with alto-relievo figures of the reverend divine and his wife.
In the north aisle is a small mural monument, upon which are represented a man and woman, engraved on brass, kneeling before a table, and three sons and daughters behind them. From the mouth of the man proceeds a label, on which are these words:—In manus tuas dne commendo spiritum meum. Underneath is this inscription, which, like that of the label, is in the old English character:—
Contynuall prayse these lynes in brasse,
Of Allaine Dister here,
A clothier, vertuous while he was
In Lavenham many a yeare.
For as in lyefe he loved best
The poore to clothe and feede,
So with the rich and all the rest
He neighbourlie agreed;
And did appoynte before he dyed,
A special yearlie rent,
Which should be every Whitsontide
Among the poorest spent.
Although this benefaction is written in brass, the good man’s successors have found enough of the same metal to pervert it; for it is now lost, and no person can give any account of it. It needs not brass to outlive honesty; a mere breath will often destroy her. There are, however, several substantial charities belonging to Lavenham, the disposal of which has fallen into better hands.
In the churchyard is a very old gravestone, which formerly had a Saxon inscription. Kirby, in his account of the monasteries of Suffolk, says that here, on the tomb of one John Wiles, a bachelor, who died in 1694, is this odd jingling epitaph:—
Quod fuit esse quod est, quod non fuit esse quod esse
Esse quod est non esse, quod est non erit esse.
But as the point and oddity may not be directly evident to all, perhaps some of our readers will furnish us with a pithy translation for our next.
F.R. of Lavenham, to whom we are indebted for the drawing of Lavenham Church, informs us that this fine building will shortly undergo a thorough repair.
FIRE TOWERS AND BELFRIES
In No. 333 of the MIRROR, there is an article on the ancient round towers in Scotland and Ireland, in which it is stated that the said towers “have puzzled all antiquarians,” that they are now generally called fire towers and that “they certainly were not belfries.”
I have often thought that antiquarians, and particularly our modern Irish antiquarians, have affected to be puzzled about what, to the rest of mankind, must appear to be evident enough; and this for the purpose of making a parade of their learning, and of astonishing the common reader by the ingenuity of their speculations.
I think I shall be able to show, that a motive of this kind must have operated in the case of these round towers, otherwise “all the antiquarians” could not have been so sadly puzzled about what to the rest of the world appears a very plain matter.
The fact is, that when St. Patrick planted the Christian faith in Ireland, in the middle of the fifth century, (he died A.D. 492,) the practice of hanging bells in church steeples had not begun; and we know from history, that they were first used to summon the people to worship in A.D. 551, by a bishop of Campania; the churches, therefore, that were erected by St. Patrick, (and he built many,) were originally without belfries; and when the use of bells became common, it was judged more expedient to erect a belfry detached from the church, than by sticking it up against the side or end walls, to mar the proportions of the original building.
This is the account of the matter given by the old Irish historians, not one of whom appears to have been aware what “puzzlers” these round towers were to become in after ages; and in a life of St. Kevin, of Glendaloch, (co. Wicklow,) who died A.D. 628, we are told that “the holy bishop did,” a short time before his death, “erect a bell-house (cloig-theach) contiguous to the church formerly erected by him, in which he placed a bell, to the glory of God, and for the good of his own soul.”
I am not unaware, in giving you the above quotation, that “all the antiquarians,” and particularly those of Scotland, have long since decided, that in every matter connected with the ancient history of Ireland, her native historians (many of whom were eye-witnesses of the facts they relate) are on no account to be credited; and that the safest way of dealing with those chroniclers is, in every thing, to take for granted exactly the reverse of what they may at any time assert. In deference, therefore, to such high authorities, I shall waive any advantage which I might claim on account of a quotation from the works of a native historian, and proceed to show, from the reasonableness of the thing itself, that those towers which you state “were certainly never belfries,” were in fact belfries, and were never any thing else.
First.—They are all situated within a few yards of some ancient church, and which church is invariably without a steeple.
Secondly.—It is impossible to conceive, from their slender shape, their great height, and their contiguity to the church, for what other purpose they could have been intended, having, to a spectator inside, who looks up to the top, exactly the appearance of an enormous gun-barrel.
Thirdly.—That in all of them now entire, the holes, for the purpose of receiving the beam to support the bell, remain; and that in one at least, that upon Tory Island, co. Donegal, the beam itself may be seen at this day.
Fourthly, and which appears to me more conclusive than all the rest, that these towers, in every part of Ireland, are, to this day, called in Irish by the name of clogach, (cloig-theach,) that is, bell-house, and that they are never called (in Irish at least) by any other name whatever.
P.S. We have heard a good deal of late of a chimney or high tower erected at Bow, by the East London Water Company, on account of its having been erected without any outside scaffolding. It is remarkable, that the
Dr. Fuller relates the following anecdote of this divine:—Dr. Reynolds, who held the living of Lavenham, having gone over to the Church of Rome, the Earl of Oxford, the patron, presented Mr. Copinger, but on condition that he should pay no tithes for his park, which comprehended almost half the land in the parish. Mr. Copinger told his lordship, that he would rather return the presentation, than by such a sinful gratitude betray the rights of the church. This answer so affected the earl, that he replied, “I scorn that my estate should swell with church goods.” His heir, however, contested the rector’s right to the tithes, and it cost Mr. Copinger