Bells have wide mouths and tongues, but are too weak,
Have they not help, to sing, or talk or speak.
But if you move them they will mak't appear,
By speaking they'l make all the Town to hear.
When Ringers handle them with Art and Skill,
They then the ears of their Observers fill,
With such brave Notes, they ting and tang so well
As to out strip all with their ding, dong, Bell.
Comparison
These Bells are like the Powers of my Soul;
Their Clappers to the Passions of my mind;
The Ropes by which my Bells are made to tole,
Are Promises (I by experience find.)
My body is the Steeple where they hang,
My graces they which do ring ev'ry Bell:
Nor is there any thing gives such a tang,
When by these Ropes these Ringers ring them well.
Let not my Bells these Ringers want, nor Ropes;
Yea let them have room for to swing and sway:
To toss themselves deny them not their Scopes.
Lord! in my Steeple give them room to play.
If they do tole, ring out, or chime all in,
They drown the tempting tinckling Voice of Vice:
Lord! when my Bells have gone, my Soul has bin
As 'twere a tumbling in this Paradice!
Or if these Ringers do the Changes ring,
Upon my Bells, they do such Musick make,
My Soul then (Lord) cannot but bounce and sing,
So greatly her they with their Musick take.
But Boys (my Lusts) into my Belfry go,
And pull these Ropes, but do no Musick make
They rather turn my Bells by what they do,
Or by disorder make my Steeple shake.
Then, Lord! I pray thee keep my Belfry Key,
Let none but Graces meddle with these Ropes:
And when these naughty Boys come, say them Nay.
From such Ringers of Musick there's no hopes.
O Lord! If thy poor Child might have his will,
And might his meaning freely to thee tell;
He never of this Musick has his fill,
There's nothing to him like thy ding, dong, Bell.
– John Bunyan, 1628 - 1688[Bell photos (all in Newport): top - St. Peter Lutheran; middle - the old Swedish Lutheran church on Corné St., now a private residence; bottom - the clock tower on the stables on Dixon St.]
This week's videos deal with
change ringing, the uniquely British practice of ringing large bells in mathematical patterns rather than trying to play tunes on them. The theory is that the bells are too big and too resonant to move fast enough to play actual tunes, so in the 17th century a method of ringing a full complement of 6 to 8 bells in a moderately tuneful fashion. Bells rung by the change ringing system create a rippling, ever-changing cascade of sound and can be fascinating. The method has even been immortalized in popular literature; in 1934 Dorothy L. Sayers published
The Nine Tailors, considered by many (including me) to be her best novel, a story written around change ringing. It seems that Lord Peter Wimsey was a veteran ringer, although, surprisingly, Bunter was not (probably the only thing the man
couldn't do).
So here are some videos to introduce you to the fine art of change ringing. The first is sort of a general introduction to the art featuring the bells and ringers of the National Cathedral in Washington, DC.
gets a full peal of Kent Treble Bob Major as he leaves the hospital today.
Upon a Ring of Bells
But Boys (my Lusts) into my Belfry go,
Yesterday, February 14, 2010, Doug Fieger passed away after a long battle with cancer; he was 57. He was the frontman and chief songwriter for the seminal New Wave power-pop band The Knack, known as "The Band That Killed Disco", and their 1979 #1 hit (for 6 consecutive weeks) "My Sharona", principally written by Fieger (guitar solos composed by Berton Averre), was known as "The Song That Killed Disco" (I've done a feature on the song on Citizen K's Just A Song blog here). The Knack were part of a movement back to straight-ahead Rock & Roll that happened on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, starting with Punk in the late '70s and moving on to New Wave. The Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Ramones, Elvis Costello. Patty Smith, Bruce Springsteen, Blondie, Talking Heads... That was a great time in popular music, and Doug Fieger put The Knack firmly in that pantheon of gods who put Rock & Roll back at the top where it belonged.
These Mallards were hanging out by the drainage moat around Easton's Pond; I passed them on my way to Green End Pond.
A Hooded Merganser drake off Green End Ave. on the upper end of Green End Pond.
A Hooded Merganser hen off Green End Ave. on the upper end of Green End Pond.
I found this poor fella by the Gateway Center in the heart of the tourist district in Newport. Matt had told me about this. This is a Cooper's Hawk, and he's lying dead under some pine trees out in back of the bus station. He's dead because there's a Great Horned Owl living in those pine trees who has been chasing off, and sometimes killing, any other raptors who come into its territory. Matt said he also found a dead Short Eared Owl nearby. I need to go down there at night and see if I can get a view of the big bad boy who's taking on all comers!
Atop the quarry rim.
A lacy ice arbor over the Twin Ledges Trail.
The Joseph Cotton Overlook in snow.
The path down to the old stone crusher.
The lights on Goat Island reflected in Newport Harbor.
Newport Harbor on a still, cold, late Autumn day.
A reflective Gooseneck Cove.
Candles and water.
One of the Quaking Aspens in the grove in the quarry.
The Pin Oak that sits out by itself in the quarry.
One of the Norway Maples that hang over the Vernal Pond in the quarry.
A Black Cherry tree along the Valley Trail near the puddingstone boulder.
The big old Yew tree on the Valley Trail.
Top: Winterberry branch; Middle: Male Cardinal feasting on Rose hips; Bottom: Red-banded Leafhopper on a Maple leaf.
Today would have been Eva Cassidy's 47th birthday. Unfortunately she was taken from us on November 2, 1996 at the age of 33, the victim of melanoma gone wild. With the voice of an angel and an exquisite sense of musical style, the tragedy of her life was that she was an obscure laborer in the fields of the music world whose fame came posthumously.
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