Bells’ towering achievement was to survive
Dave Stephenson looks at the long and sometimes troubled story of the bells of St George’s.
THE old parish of St George is now long gone; now it’s all part of Bristol. The parish church was built in 1756, standing almost adjacent to what is now the fountain at the road junction, one road going to Kingswood and the other to Hanham.
The church may be gone, but its bells have survived, only in another church.
This is the story of those bells and the stories those bells must have witnessed.
When the church opened its bells were not yet up. Betty Milson, the first person to be buried there had no bells rung for her, as was the custom. After they were hung, the sexton rang them for an hour, and the cost was a shilling.
The first bell must have been second-hand as its date is recorded as 1711. It had been cast by Abraham Rudhall of Gloucester.
Two more bells were added in 1815, the first a tenor and a smaller one by James Wells of Wiltshire.
The church was built because of John Wesley. He had come through the district like a tornado; thousands of people came to hear his open-air sermons – outside because there was no building big enough to hold all these people. The authorities saw Wesley as a threat, even though he was an ordained minister of the Anglican Church.
A few years later, Wesley was riding past the church, as he often did, and heard the bells tolling for a funeral. He saw a number of boys from the local school, carrying the coffin of one of their friends up to the church, and so he resolved to speak to them about death and what it means.
Elizabeth Emra (1804-43) was one of the daughters of John Emra, Vicar of St George from 1809 to 1842. She married Marcus Holmes, a celebrated artist and wrote a book: ‘Scenes in Our Parish, by a Country Parson’s Daughter,’ now considered such a good book that it has been reproduced. It is a little gem.
She writes a lot about the district without mentioning the actual place, and mentions the bells a few times, such as the melancholy bell on the death of a king, and this of an elderly man she remembered from childhood:
“I have his figure before me now, as on one bright Whit-Monday, when the clubs and their bands of music were coming across the green to church, he stood pulling the bell outside the belfry-door; for, amidst his many avocations, he was bell ringer; at least if ours may be called bell-ringing, when we boast but of two bells — one great and one small. He was tolling the little bell then, to call the congregation to church ; and hearing the glad sound of the procession and the loyal music, and wishing to be there to spy, he wisely bethought him of the expedient of pulling the bell-rope, which fortunately was long enough, through the door into the church-yard.
“And there he stood in the sunshine, the fresh wind blowing his long silver hair, pulling with all his might, and his head turned quite the other way, to gaze at the floating flags and the thronging people ; and no doubt he complimented himself at thus having found a plan to combine duty and pleasure.”
(Download the book at https:// tinyurl.com/2mmyj78s)
In July 1839 my four-times grandparents married at the church. Joseph Jones and Susan Llewellin, both from Upper Easton and both able to read and write their own names, the ceremony officiated by John Emra himself.
On December 22 1878 tragedy came to St George. A heater left on to warm the church for the Sunday service caught fire. It was visible for miles around.
St George did not have its own fire brigade and they called the Bristol brigade for help. The engine coming from town passed Lawford’s Gate police station within 12 and a half minutes of getting the call, but it was too late. The fire was already out of control and the beautiful edifice could not be saved.
Also the wind was blowing sparks towards the vicarage and to the Cherry Orchard pub across the road. Inspector Bird of the local police took charge and directed people in the firefighting effort and saved those buildings, but the church was not so lucky. The roof fell in and between four and five o’clock that very cold morning two of the bells in the tower descended with a terrible crash. The small bell was broken in pieces, the large one was cracked. Several hours later the bell clock fell upon it and shattered into pieces.
The fabric of the church was destroyed, but the north porch was reasonably undamaged and soon cleaned up so that the marriage of Joseph Bryant and Harriet Woodington could take place – though with no bells. There were also some funerals that day, but it was not the custom then to take the coffin into the church; the service was always held at the graveside, but again, no bells.
A new church was built, complete with six brand new bells, made in Bristol by Llewellins and James at their foundry in Castle Street. The new church opened in 1880, with the bells described as “pleasant in tone and the peal a capital one.”
After the First World War, most of the local men who had died were remembered on many memorial tablets in schools, halls and most churches. St George’s church did it slightly differently; they added two more bells, making it a full peal. The new bells would commemorate the men who had died, and they were also remembered on a marble tablet with 75 names on it.
On the afternoon of Saturday December 11 1920, the church was full as Canon Dickinson dedicated the bells. As he entered the church he was met by a guard of Girl Guides.
The Rev. G.H. Wilmott Elwell, the vicar at this time, and who had himself served at the front in the war, conducted the service. The choirs of St George & St Philips led the singing, and then the six old bells rang a muffled peal, then the two new additions rang out as well.
Everything happening at the church from now on was down to the Rev. Elwell. On Saturday June 26 1921 the bell ringers went on an outing without telling the vicar, something which angered him. This selfish action, he said, disqualified them from church work, and he sacked them all.
They pleaded their case to him, to his superiors and to the press, but the vicar would not budge, and from then on until his death in 1967 he would upset and push most of the congregation to other churches.
The church closed in 1974. The bells were not in the best condition – the weather and the pigeons had all played their part. It was decided to remove the bells and give them to St Barnabas church in Warmley, but before that, the final bell-ringing was recorded for posterity.
At least the bells survived. The church tower which once held them would not be demolished so easily. It took three attempts to blow it up, much to the delight of local spectators. I think the tower was angry that someone had pinched its bells.