There being no resident population the chapel has since fallen into ruin, and the font and bell have been removed to the mother parish of Woolastone, the bell now doing duty at the day-school there. In 1890 Sir William H. Marling, Bart. (patron of the living) carefully restored the font and placed within it a brass plate bearing the following inscription:—
“Perantiquum hunc fontem baptismalem e ruinis sacelli scī Jacobi Lancaut in comū Gloucē servatum refecit Guls̄ Hes̄ Marling Bars̄ A.D, 1890.”
The venerable relic stands in the hall at Sedbury Park.
PLATE VIII. NORMAN CHAPEL, LLANCAUT, WYE CLIFFS. ]
The history of the “Church” in our parish of Tidenham, whether interpreted as the body of believers or the building in which they worshipped, might be well taken, during about the fifty middle years of the past century, as an illustration of “changing times.” In the year 1826—or thereabouts—when my father purchased the property, Tidenham Church was no exception to many other churches in rural districts. The interior comes back to my remembrance as dark, dingy, and very decidedly damp, as shown by the green mould on pillars and walls. One of the first improvements was the placing of two good stoves in the church,—one presented by my father, and the other (rather, I believe, against local wishes) by the Parish. I well remember the presence of the stoves, as it was considered by the churchwardens, or whoever arranged these matters, that the time which was most decorous for stirring the fires was during the singing as “it drowned the noise.” What our local choir consisted of I do not remember, but I rather think it was simply vocal, and started by a “pitchpipe.” But at least there was nothing ridiculous about it. We did not, as in a church at no great distance, have the violinist and his instrument carried in on a man’s shoulders because the unfortunate musician was without legs!
The sittings for the congregation were (I suppose as a matter of course in those days) all in closed pews with doors—the pews of a size, form, and respectability of appearance, likewise of comfort and fittings, according to the social position of their holders. It could not, however, be said that the chief parishioners had the best places, for our two large, roomy, square seats were mounted up, side by side, a few steps above the others at the end of the north aisle, with a good wall between us and the chancel, effectually preventing our seeing what was going on in that direction. Within our special pew, which had curtains more or less drawn, we sat round with our feet at proper times on good high hassocks. When we knelt we all turned round and faced the sides of the pew, and my juvenile sorrows were sometimes great towards the end of the Litany. The fatigue from kneeling on the top of my unsteady perch produced faintness, and I well remember my anxieties increasing with the “odd” feeling till I mustered courage to announce to my eldest sister, whom I held in considerable awe, that I did not feel very well; and measures were taken accordingly. The pew was said to be just over where the soldiers were buried who were killed during the Parliamentarian war at the Battle of Buttington, a locality in the same parish; but on an occasion of some repairs being made, the flooring was discovered to be laid on, or close above the live rock, which rendered this view inaccurate. The surface of the ground was immediately below the floor, and as the family pew had on its east side one of the great east windows of the church, and on the north side a smaller one, both with small panes ill-leaded, and one with a very insufficiently fastened small window, our Sunday devotions in winter were anything but comfortable.