Tales of bells that have been lost to the sea are a familiar occurrence in many legends, especially those that take place around Britain's coastline. Whether lost by bad weather,
bad luck, or punishment for a rash word spoken in anger, here are a
selection of Britain's drowned bells.
The
Legend of Kilgrimol:
This tale
is located at Lytham St Anne's near Blackpool in Lancashire. Not far from
the shore it is said that a church and its churchyard lie submerged beneath the waves. Known as Kilgrimol, there have been several
explanations for what happened to the ill-fated church. Walter Thornber in his History
of Blackpool and it's Neighbourhood states that an earthquake
caused the disaster, whereas other sources report a violent storm as the cause of the disappearance.
This story is founded on a degree of fact, and according to a 17th century source there was indeed a church at Kilgrimol since the 7th or 8th centuries:
This story is founded on a degree of fact, and according to a 17th century source there was indeed a church at Kilgrimol since the 7th or 8th centuries:
“In
the days before the missionaries came there were evil spirits in the
water marshes around Marton Mere, who were propitiated by the
Britons. When Grim, the priest from Kilgrimol, came teaching the
people, he cast the chief spirits into the mere and it took the form
of a great worm or conga eel.”
There are
several places that contend for the location of Kilgrimol, some of which are out to sea, but one of
which is at Cross Slack, now part of the St Anne's Old Links Golf
Course. Interestingly, it seems that in the mid-1500s an event
occurred that hit the West Coast and destroyed twelve villages in
total; in some sources, the destruction of Kilgrimol is dated to this
time.
Kilgrimol is remembered in many local place names today, and it is said that during a storm or on New Year's Eve the bells of the ill-fated church can be heard tolling.
Kilgrimol is remembered in many local place names today, and it is said that during a storm or on New Year's Eve the bells of the ill-fated church can be heard tolling.
Cross Slack
The Bells of Boscastle:
As legend goes, the people of Boscastle, Cornwall, had long been unhappy with the fact that their
church was lacking in bells. This fact was made all the more sore by the
delightful peal from nearby Tintagel that could regularly be heard, and over time, funds were raised so that they could purchase their own. It took a while, but there was much satisfaction when the total needed was reached and the
bells duly purchased.
The new acquisitions were being delivered by sea
and the man navigating the ship happened to be from Tintagel. At the
sound of the bells from his own church the man, deeply religious, crossed
himself and thanked God – at that an argument broke out with the
captain who was of the opinion that the ship and the sea she sailed
on should be thanked instead for the safe voyage. Many heated words
were uttered by the captain along with much blaspheming; as if in
answer a fierce storm rose up that sent the ship onto the rocks,
killing all on board apart from the man who had demanded God be given
his due.
The bells were ringing as the ship went down, and it is said
that they can still be heard before a storm even today.
The church featured in the story is St. Symphorian's Church at Forrabury, positioned high on a hill overlooking the sea. A version of the story of the missing bells is told in the poem The Silent Tower of
Bottreaux.
The pilot heard his
native bells
hang on the breeze in
fitful swells.
‘Thank God’ with
reverent brow he cried,
‘We make the shore on
evening’s tide.’
‘Come to thy God in
time.’
It was his marriage
chime.
Youth, manhood, old age
past,
his bells must ring at
last.
‘Thank God, thou
whining knave, on land
but thank at sea the
steersman’s hand’,
the captain’s voice
above the gale,
‘Thank the good ship
and ready sail.’
‘Come to thy God in
time.’
Sad grew the boding
chime.
‘Come to thy God at
last.’
Boomed on the heavy
blast.
Up rose the sea as if
it heard
the Mighty Master’s
signal word.
What thrills the
captain’s whitening lip?
The death groans of his
sinking ship.
‘Come to thy God in
time.’
Swung deep the funeral
chime.
Grace, mercy, kindness
past,
‘Come to thy God at
last.’
Long did the rescued
pilot tell,
when greying hairs o’er
his forehead fell,
while those around
would hear and weep,
that fearful judgement
of the deep.
‘Come to thy God in
time.’
Swung the deep funeral
chime,
he read his native
chime,
youth, manhood, old age
past,
his bell rung out at
last.
Still when the storm of
Bottreau’s waves
is wakening in his
weedy caves,
those bells that sudden
surges hide
peal their deep notes
beneath the tide.
‘Come to thy God in
time.’
Thus saith the ocean’s
chime.
‘Storm, billow,
whirlwind past,
come to thy God at
last.
"Forrabury church Bocastle by Herbythyme
Licensed under GFDL via Commons
Bells for Sale:
There is
a legend that speaks of how all the church bells in Jersey were once sold to the
French. The dreadful act was punished when the ship sank in St. Ouen's Bay, taking all the
bells with it. At least into the 19th Century the sound of
those bells were said to be heard, a bad omen that told fishermen to stay ashore as a storm was coming and lives
would be lost.
There are suggestions that there is some grounding in fact for the story. Sir Henry Spelman, in his 1632
The History and Fate of Sacrilige devotes a section to the
fate of the many church bells that were deemed surplus to
requirements as Mary Tudor's reign gave way to that of the Protestant
Elizabeth. There were many tales regarding the pulling down and sale
of these bells, and it is from this time that the legend of the Jersey bells seems to stem.
“At
the end of Queen Mary's days (Calais being taken) Sir Hugh Paulet
pulled down the bells of the churches of Jersey; and sending them to
St Malo's, in Bretagne, fourteen of them were drowned at the entrance
of that harbour. Whereupon it is a by word at this day in these
parts, when any strong east wind bloweth there, to say “The bells
of Jersey now ring.”
The tale
of the bells was in fact used to explain a booming noise made by a
combination of the wind and the sea, and it was said that drowned sailors knew of their approaching death as they heard the bells ringing beforehand.
St Ouen's Bay, Jersey
A Viking Raid:
A tale from the south coast relates how the monastery at Bosham, West Sussex, was attacked by Vikings. The much-prized tenor
bell was carried off but the monks did not give chase; as soon as
the invaders were gone they rang the remaining bells, the sound
carrying out to sea. The stolen bell added its own note to the peal, the sound so
strong and true that it caused the planks of the ship to break and
both the ship and the bell were lost to the sea.
There are
two variations of the story, one where all aboard were lost, the
other more positive outcome being the conversion of the raiders to
Christianity.
Incidentally,
this isn't Bosham's only claim to fame; it is also one place of several believed to have
been the place where King Canute held back the tide.
Bosham
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