The old clerk of Clapham, Bedford, Mr. Thomas Maddams, always used to read his own version of Psalm xxxix. 12: "Like as it were a moth fretting in a garment." Apparently his idea was of a moth annoyed at being in a garment from which it could not escape.
A parish clerk (who prided himself upon being well read) occupied his seat below the old "three-decker" pulpit, and whenever a quotation or an extract from the classics was introduced into the sermon he, in an undertone, muttered its source, much to the annoyance of the preacher and amusement of the congregation. Despite all protests in private, the thing continued, until one day, the vicar's patience being exhausted, he leant over the pulpit side and immediately exclaimed, "Drat you; shut up!" Immediately, in the clerk's usual sententious tone, came the reply, "His own." (William Haggard,Liverpool Daily Post.)
N.B. I have heard this story before, and in a different key:
The preacher was a young, bumptious fellow, fond of quoting the classics, etc. One day a learned classic scholar attended his service, and was heard to say, after each quotation, "That's Horace," "That's Plato,"and such-like, until the preacher was at his "wits' ends" how to quiet the man. At last, leaning over the pulpit, he looked the man in the face, and is reported to have said, "Who the devil are you?" "That's his own!" was the prompt response.
In one of the village churches near Honiton, in 1864, the usual duet between the parson and clerk had been the custom, when the vicar appealed to the congregation to take their part. In a little while they took courage, and did so. This annoyed the clerk, and he could not make the responses, and made so many mistakes that the vicar drew his attention to the matter. He replied, with much irritation, "How canIdo the service with a lot of men and women a-buzzing and a-fizzing about me?"
A somewhat similar story is told of another church:
An old gentleman, now in his eightieth year, remembers attending Romford Church when a youth, and says that at that time (1840) the parish clerk was a person who greatly magnified his office. On one occasion he checked the young man for audibly responding, on the ground that he, the clerk, was the person to respond audibly, and that other people were to respond inaudibly.
Communicated by Miss Emily J. Heaton, of Sitting-bourne:
My father lived and worked as the clergyman of a parish until he was eighty-nine years of age. He remembered a clerk in a Yorkshire parish in the time of one of the Georges. The clergyman said the versicle, "O Lord, save the King," and the clerk made no reply. The prayer was repeated, but still noanswer. He then touched the clerk, who sat in the desk below, and who replied:
"A we'ant! He won't tak tax off 'bacca!"
Communicated by Mr. Frederick Sherlock:
I remember as a lad attending a church which owned a magnificent specimen of the parish clerk. He used to wear a dress-coat, and it was his practice to follow the clergy from the vestry, and while the vicar and curate were saying their private prayers in the reading-desk in which they both sat together, the venerable clerk with measured tread passed down the centre of the church affably smiling and bowing right and left to such of the parishioners as were in his favour. In due course he arrived in the singers' gallery, where he had the place of honour under the organ: the good old man was leading soloist, which we well knew when Jackson'sTe Deumwas sung on the greater festivals, for there was always a solemn pause before the venerable worthy quavered forth his solo.
It was a pew-rented church, and once a quarter strangers were startled, when the vicar from his place in the reading-desk had announced the various engagements of the week, to hear the clerk's majestic voice from his place in the gallery add, "AndIbeg to announce" (with a marked emphasis on theI) "that the churchwardens will attend in the vestry on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday next, at eight o'clock, for the purpose of receiving pew rents and letting seats for the ensuing quarter."
As touching parish clerks, it is of interest to recall that William Maybrick was clerk of St. Peter's, Liverpool, from 1813-48. He had two sons, William, whobecame clerk, and Michael, who was organist at St. Peter's for many years. William Maybrick, junior, had also two sons, James, whose name was so much before the public owing to the circumstances surrounding his death, and Michael, better known as "Stephen Adams," the famous composer and singer.
The following is a curious letter from a parish clerk to his vicar after giving notice to quit the latter's service. He was clerk of the parish of Maldon, Essex.
DEAR AND REV. SIR,
I avail myself of the opportunity of troubling your honour with these lines, which I hope you will excuse, which is the very sentiments of your humble servant's heart. Ignorantly, rashly, but reluctantly, I gave you warning to leave your highly respected office and most amiable duty, as being your servant, and clerk of this your most well wished parish, and place of my succour and support.
But, dear Sir, I well know it was no fault of yours nor from any of my most worthy parishioners. It were because I thought I were not sufficiently paid for the interments of the silent dead. But will I be a Judas and leave the house of my God, the place where His Honour dwelleth for a few pieces of money? No. Will I be a Peter and deny myself of an office in His Sanctuary and cause me to weep bitterly? No. Can I be so unreasonable as to deny, if I like and am well, to ring that solemn bell that speaks the departure of a soul? No. Can I leave digging the tombs of my neighbours and acquaintances which have many a time made me shudder and think of my mortality, when I have dug up the mortal remains of some perhapsas I well knew? No. And can I so abruptly forsake the service of my beloved Church of which I have not failed to attend every Sunday for these seven and a half years? No. Can I leave waiting upon you a minister of that Being that sitteth between the Cherubim and flieth upon the wings of the wind? No. Can I leave the place where our most holy services nobly calls forth and says, "Those whom God have joined together" (and being as I am a married man) "let no man put asunder"? No. And can I leave that ordinance where you say then and there "I baptize thee in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost," and he becomes regenerate and is grafted into the body of Christ's Church? No. And can I think of leaving off cleaning at Easter the House of God in which I take such delight, in looking down her aisles and beholding her sanctuaries and the table of the Lord? No. And can I forsake taking part in the service of Thanksgiving of women after childbirth when mine own wife has been delivered ten times? No. And can I leave off waiting on the congregation of the Lord which you well know, Sir, is my delight? No. And can I forsake the Table of the Lord at which I have feasted I suppose some thirty times? No. And, dear Sir, can I ever forsake you who have been so kind to me? No. And I well know you will not entreat me to leave, neither to return from following after you, for where you pray there will I pray, where you worship there will I worship. Your Church shall be my Church, your people shall be my people and your God my God. By the waters of Babylon am I to sit down and weep and leave thee, O my Church! and hang my harp upon the trees that grow therein? No. One thing have I desiredof the Lord that I will require even that I may dwell in the House of the Lord and to visit His temple. More to be desired of me, O my Church, than gold, yea than fine gold, sweeter to me than honey and the honeycomb.
Now, kind Sir, the very desire of my heart is still to wait upon you. Please tell the Churchwardens all is reconciled, and if not, I will get me away into the wilderness, and hide me in the desert, in the cleft of the rock. But I hope still to be your Gehazi and when I meet my Shunamite to say "All, all is well." And I will conclude my blunders with my oft-repeated prayer, "Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen."
P.S. Now, Sir, I shall go on with my fees the same as I found them, and will make no more trouble about them, but I will not, I cannot leave you, nor your delightful duties.
Your most obedient servant,
GEORGE G---- G.
The Rev. E. G----, Vicar of Maldon.
Communicated by the Rev. D. C. Moore:
In the parish of Belton, Suffolk, there died in 1837 a man named Noah Pole. He had been clerk for sixty years. He wore a smock-frock; gave out all notices--strayed horse, a found sheep, etc. He was known by the nickname of "Never, nevershall be," for in this way he had for sixty years perverted the last part of the "Gloria," "now and ever shall be."
In the parish of Lowestoft, Suffolk, in the forties the parish clerk's name was Newson (would-be wits called him "Nuisance"). He was arrayed in a velvet-trimmedrobe and bore himself bravely. The way in which he mouthed "Let us sing to the glory of God" was wonderful. But the chief amusement he afforded was the habit of hiding his face in his hands during each prayer, then towards the ending his head would rise till it rested on his thumbs, and then came out sonorously, "Awl-men."
At St. Mary's, Southtown (near Great Yarmouth), in the late thirties, etc., a man named Nolloth was clerk. He was celebrated for the uncertainty of his "H's." For example: "Let us sing to the praise and glory of God the Heighty-heighth ymn."
At Gorleston (the mother church of St. Mary's, named above) a tailor named Bristow was clerk. He was a very small man, and he had a son he wished to succeed him. The clerk's desk was pretty wide and they sat together. I can see them (sixty years after), one leaning on his right arm, the other on his left; and when the time came, the duet wasAh-men from the elder and A-men from the younger, one in "tenor" the other "treble." We schoolboys used to say "Big pig, little pig."
Nicholson, the clerk of St. Bees, if any student was called away in term, invariably gave out Psalm cvii., fourth part, "They that in ships with courage bold." In those days there were no trains and no hymns.
At Barkham there is an old clerk who succeeded his father half a century ago.
During the rebuilding of the church his sire, whose name was Elijah, once visited a neighbouring parish church, and arrived rather late, just when the rector was giving out the text: "What doest thou here,Elijah?" Elijah gave a respectful salute, and replied: "Please, sur, Barkham Church is undergoing repair, so I be cumed 'ere!"
Canon Rawnsley tells a pathetic little story of an old clerk who begged him not to read the service so fast: "For you moòst gie me toime, Mr. Rawnsley, you moòst i'deed. You moòst gie me toime, for I've a graaceless wife an' two godless soons to praày for."
Hawker tells a story of the parish clerk at Morwenstow whose wife used to wash the parson's surplices. He came home one night from a prolonged visit at the village inn, the "Bush," and finding his wife's scolding not to his mind and depressing, he said, "Look yere, my dear, if you doan't stop, I'll go straight back again." She did not stop, so he left the house; but the wife donned one of the surplices and, making a short cut, stood in front of her approaching husband. He was terrified; but at last he remembered his official position, and the thought gave him courage.
"Avide, Satan!" he said in a thick, slow voice.
The figure made no answer.
"Avide, Satan!" he shouted again. "Doan't 'e knaw I be clerk of the parish, bass-viol player, and taicher of the singers?"
When the apparition failed to be impressed the clerk turned tail and fled. The ghost returned by a short cut, and the clerk found his wife calmly ironing the parson's surplice. He did not return to the "Bush" that night.
The old parish clerk of Dagenham had a habit when stating the names to be entered into the register of saying,PlainRobert or John, etc., meaning that Robert, etc., was the only Christian name. On oneoccasion a strange clergyman baptized a child there, and being unable to hear the name as given by the parents, looked inquiringly at the clerk. "Plain Jane, sir," he called out in a stentorian voice. "What a pity to label the child thus," the clergyman rejoined; "she might grow up to be a beautiful girl." "Janeonly, I mean," explained the clerk.
All clergymen know the difficulty of changing the names of the sovereign and the Royal Family at the commencement of the reign of a new monarch.
In a certain parish in the south of England (the name of which I do not know, or have forgotten), at the time of the accession of Her late Majesty Queen Victoria, the rector charged his clerk to make the necessary alterations in the Book of Common Prayer required by the sex of the new sovereign. The clerk made all the needed alterations with the greatest care as regards both titles and pronouns; but not only this, he carried on the changes throughout the Psalter. Consequently, on the morning of the fourth day of the month, for instance, the rector found Psalm xxi. rendered thus: "The Queen shall rejoice in Thy strength, O Lord: exceeding glad shall She be of Thy salvation," and so on throughout the course of the Psalms and the whole of the Psalter. Also in the prayer for the Church Militant, when prayer is made for all Christian kings, princes, etc., the distracted vicar found the words changed into "Queen, Princesses, etc." After all, the clerk showed his thoroughness, but nothing short of a new Prayer Book could satisfy the needs of the vicar[94].
[94]From the information of Miss Marion Stirling, who heard the story from Prebendary Thornton.
Canon Gregory Smith tells the following story of a clerk in Herefordshire, who flourished half a century ago:
In the west-end gallery of the old-fashioned little church were musicians with fifes, etc. etc. Sometimes, if they started badly in a hymn, the clerk would say to the congregation, "Beg pardon, gents; we'll try again."
As I left home one day, the clerk ran after me. "But, sir, who'll take the duty on St. Swithin's Day?"
Once or twice, being somnolent, on a hot afternoon he woke up suddenly with a loud "Amen" in the middle of the sermon.
When I said good-bye to him, having resigned the benefice, he said, very gravely, "God will give us another comforter."
An old country clerk in showing visitors round the churchyard used to stop at a certain tombstone and say:
"This 'ere is the tomb of Thomas 'Ooper and 'is eleven wives."
One day a lady remarked: "Eleven? Dear me, that's rather a lot, isn't it?"
The old man looked at her gravely and replied: "Well, mum, yer see it wus an' 'obby of 'is'n."
The Rev. W.D. Parish, in hisDictionary of the Sussex Dialect, tells of a friend of his who had been remonstrating with one of his parishioners for abusing the parish clerk beyond the bounds of neighbourly expression, and who received the following answer: "You be quite right, sir; you be quite right. I'd no ought to have said what I did; but I döant mind tellingyou to your head what I've said so many times behind your back. We've got a good shepherd, I says, an excellent shepherd, but he's got an unaccountable bad dog."
Some seventy or eighty years ago at Thame Church, Buckinghamshire, the old-fashioned clerk had a much-worn Prayer Book, and the parson and he made a duet of the responses, the congregation not considering it necessary or even proper to interfere. When the clerk happened to come to a verse of the Psalms with words missing he said "riven out" (pronounced oot), and the parson finished the verse; this was taken quite as a matter of course by the congregation.
In a Lancashire church, when the rector was about to publish the banns of marriage, the book was not in its usual place. However, he began: "I publish the banns of marriage ... I publish ... the banns"--when the clerk looked up from the lowest box of the "three-decker," and said in a tone notsotto voce, "'Twixt th' cushion and th' desk, sur."
Prayer Book words are sometimes a puzzle to illiterate clerks. At the present time in a Berkshire church the clerk always speaks of "Athanasian's Creed," and of "the Anthony-Communion hymn."
His views of art are occasionally curious. An odd specimen of his race was showing to some strangers a stained-glass window recently erected in memory of a gentleman and lady who had just died. It was a two-light window with figures of Moses and Aaron. "There they be, sir, but they don't much feature the old couple," said the clerk, who regarded them as likenesses of the deceased.
A clergyman on one occasion had some trouble with his dog. This dog emulated the achievements of Newton's "Fido," and tore and devoured some leaves of the parson's sermon. The parson was taking the duty of a neighbour, and feared lest his mutilated discourse would be too short for the edification of the congregation. So after the service he consulted the clerk. "Was my sermon too long to-day?" "No," replied the clerk. "Then was it too short?" "Nay, you was jist about right." Much relieved, the parson then told the clerk the story of the dog's misdemeanours, and of his fear lest the sermon should prove too short. The old clerk scratched his head and then exclaimed, with a very solemn face, "Ah! maister ----, our parson be a grade sight too long to plaise us. Would you just give him a pup?"
A writer inNotes and Queriestells a story of an old-fashioned service, and with this we will conclude our collection of curious tales.
A lady friend of the writer still living, and the daughter of a clergyman, assured him that in a country parish, where the church service was conducted in a very free-and-easy, go-as-you-please sort of way, the clerk, looking up at the parson, asked, "What shall we do next, zurr?"
There are numerous instances of the hereditary nature of the clerk's office, which has frequently been passed on from father to son through several generations. I have already mentioned the Osbornes of Belbroughton, Worcestershire, who were parish clerks and tailors in the village from the time of Henry VIII, and the Worralls of Wolverley in the same county, whose reign extended over a century.
David Clarkson, the parish clerk of Feckenham, died in 1854, and his ancestors occupied the same office for two centuries. King's Norton had a famous race of clerks, of the name of Ford, who also served for the same period. The Fords were a long-lived family, as two of them held the office for 102 years. Cuthbert Bede mentions also the following remarkable instances of heredity:
The Roses were parish clerks at Bromsgrove from "time out of mind." The Bonds were parish clerks at St. Michael's, Worcester, for a century. John Tustin had in 1856 been clerk of Broadway for fifty-two years, his father and grandfather having previously held the office. Charles Orford died at Oldswinford December 28th, 1855, aged seventy-three years, havingbeen parish clerk from his youth, and having succeeded his father in that capacity: he was succeeded by his son Thomas Orford, who was again succeeded by his own son William, one of the present vergers in this church, aged seventy years. All these examples are taken from parishes in Worcestershire. An extraordinary instance of longevity and heredity occurs in the annals of the parish of Chapel-en-le-Frith, Derbyshire. Peter Bramwell, clerk of the parish, died in 1854, after having held the office for forty-three years. His father Peter Bramwell was clerk for fifty years, his grandfather George Bramwell for thirty-eight years, his great-great-grandfather George Bramwell for forty years, and his great-great-great-grandfather Peter Bramwell for fifty-two years. The total number of years during which the parish was served by this family of clerks was 223, and by only five members of it, giving an average of forty-four years and nine months for each--a wonderful record truly!
Nor are these instances of the hereditary nature of the office, and of the fact that the duties of the position seem to contribute to the lengthened days of the holders of it, entirely passed away. The riverside town of Marlow, Buckinghamshire, furnishes an example of this. Mr. H.W. Badger has occupied the position of parish clerk for half a century, and a few months ago was presented by the townspeople with an illuminated address, together with a purse of fifty-five sovereigns, in recognition of his long term of service and of the esteem in which he is held. He was appointed in 1855 in succession to his father, Henry Badger, appointed in 1832, who succeeded his grandfather, Wildsmith Badger, who became parish clerk in 1789.
The oldest parish clerk living is James Carne, whoserves in the parish of St. Columb Minor, Cornwall, and has held the office for fifty-eight years. He is now in his hundred and first year, and still is unremitting in attention to duty, and regularly attends church. He followed in the wake of his father and grandfather, who filled the same position for fifty-four years and fifty years respectively.
Mr. Edward J. Lupson is the much-respected parish clerk of Great Yarmouth, who is a great authority on the history of the important church in which he officiates, and is the author of several books. He has written an excellent guide to the church of St. Nicholas, and a volume entitledCupid's Pupils, compiled from the personal "recollections of a parish clerk who assisted at ten thousand four hundred marriages and gave away eleven hundred and thirty brides"--a wonderful record, which, as the book was published seven years ago, has now been largely exceeded. The book is brightly written, and abounds in the records of amusing instances of nervous and forgetful brides and bride-grooms, of extraordinary blunders, of the failings of inexperienced clergy, and is a full and complete guide to those who contemplate matrimony. His guide to the church he loves so well is admirable. It appears there is a clerks' book at Great Yarmouth, which contains a number of interesting notes and memoranda. The clerks of this church were men of importance and position in the town. In 1760 John Marsh, who succeeded Sampson Winn, was a town councillor. He was succeeded in 1785 by Mr. Richard Pitt, the son of a former mayor, and he and his wife and sixteen children were interred in the north chancel aisle, where a mural monument records their memories. The clerks at this period, until 1831, were appointed bythe corporation and paid by the borough. In 1800 Mr. Richard Miller resigned his aldermanic gown to accept the office. Mr. David Absolon (1811-31) was a member of the corporation before receiving the appointment. Mr. John Seaman reigned from 1831 to 1841, and was followed by Mr. James Burman, who was the last clerk who took part in that curious duet with the vicar, to which we have often referred. He was an accomplished campanologist and composed several peals. In 1863 Mr. Lupson was appointed, who has so much honoured his office and earned the respect of all who know him. The old fashion of the clerk wearing gown and bands is continued at Great Yarmouth.
James Carne, Parish Clerk Of St. Columb-Minor, Cornwall.The Oldest Living Clerk.
Mr. Lupson tells of his strange experiences when conducting visitors round the church, and explaining to them the varied objects of interest. What our clerks have to put up with may be news to many. I will give it in his own words:
Although a congenial and profitable engagement, it was often felt to be weary work, talking about the same things many times each day week after week: and anything but easy to exhibit the freshness and retain the vivacity that was desirable. Fortunately the monotony of the recital found considerable relief from the varied receptions it met with. Among the many thousand individuals, of all grades and classes, from the highest to the lowest, thus come in contact with, a diversified and wide range of characters was inevitable. The vast majority happily consisted of persons with whom it was pleasant to spend half an hour within the sacred walls, so gratified were they with what they saw and heard: some proving so enthusiastic, and showing such absorbing interest, that atevery convenient halting-place they would take a seat, and comfortably adjust themselves as if preparing to hear an address from a favourite preacher. Occasionally, however, we had to endure the presence of persons who appeared to be suffering from disordered livers, or had nettles in their boots, so restless and dissatisfied were they. Scarcely anything pleased them. Undesirable individuals would sometimes be discovered in the midst of otherwise pleasant parties. Of such may be mentioned those who knew of much finer churches they could really admire. Whenever we heard the preface--"There's one thing strikes me in this church"--we were prepared to hear a depreciatory remark of some kind. Some would take pleasure in breaking the sequence of the story by anticipating matters not then reached, and causing divers interruptions. Others would annoy by preferring persistent speaking to listening. It was trying work going round with, and explaining to, persons from whom nothing but mono-syllables could be drawn, either through nervousness, or from realising their exalted status to be miles above the person who was supposing himself able to interest them. Anything but desirable persons were they who, after going round the church, returned with other friends, and then posed as men whose knowledge of the building was equal, if not a shade superior, to that of the guide. Some parties would waste the time, and try one's patience by having amongst them laggards, to whom explanations already given had to be repeated. But we must pass by others, and proceed. The mind would sometimes find diversion by observing the idiosyncrasies, and detecting the pretensions of individuals. Gradually gaining acquaintance as we proceeded, we occasionally discovered some were apinggentility: some assuming positions that knew them not, and some claiming talents they did not possess. We will unmask a specimen of the latter class. A man, who was unaccompanied by friends, wished to see the church he had heard so much of. He seemed about thirty years of age; was a made-up exquisite, looking very imposing, peering as he did through gold-rimmed spectacles. His talents were of such an order he could not think of hiding them. He had learned Hebrew, not from printed books, as ordinary scholars are wont to do, but from MSS., and found it so easy a matter, it "only took two hours," and it was simply "out of curiosity" that he undertook it. Before mentally placing this paragon among the classics, we showed him our MS. Roll (exquisitely written, as many visitors are aware, in unpointed Hebrew), and asked him to read a few words. This was indeed pricking the bubble. Tell it not in Gath, but publish we will, the discovery we instantly made. Our Hebrew scholar had forgotten that Hebrew ran from right to left! and worse still, he even shook his intellectual head, and gravely confessed that he "wasn't quite sure but that the Roll was written in Greek."
Other sources of relief to the mind jaded with constant repetition arose from the peculiar remarks that were made, and the strange questions that were often asked.
The organ has been a source of wonderment to multitudes who had never seen or heard of a divided organ. Wonderful stories had reached the ears of some respecting it.
"Is this the organ that was wrecked?" "Is this the organ that was dug out of the sea?" "Is this the organ that was taken out of the Spanish galleon?""Wasn't this organ smuggled out of some ship?" "Didn't it belong to Handel?" "Wasn't this organ made for St. Peter's at Rome?" With confidence says one, "This organ really belongs to the continent; it was confiscated in some war." Whilst another as confidently asserts that "it was built in Holland for one of the English cathedrals, and the vessel that conveyed it was caught in a storm and wrecked upon Yarmouth beach; it was then taken possession of by the inhabitants and erected in this church." Others, wishing to show their intimate knowledge of this instrument, have told their friends that the trumpet, which is a solid piece of wood, held by the angel at the summit of the northern organ-case, is only blown at the death of a royal person. And a lady, instead of informing her friend that it was avox humanastop, called it avox populi.
We were asked by one, "Did this organ break the windows? I was told a festival service was going on, the organist blew the trumpet stop, and broke the windows." Another inquiry was, "Who invented the pedals of this organ? We were told that quite a youth believed that pedals would improve it. He added them, and to the day of his death, whenever he was within a few miles of Yarmouth, he would come and hear them." In our hearing one man informed another that "this organ has miles of piping running somewhere about the town underground." The queries we have had to answer have been exceedingly numerous. Looking at the enclosure containing the console of the organ, a visitor wished to know whether the organist sat inside there. Another asked whether it was the vestry. One who saw great possibilities in such an organ inquired,"Can he play this organ in any other place beside the key-board?" The pulpit being of so unique a character has had a full share of attention, and no lack of admirers. Gazing at it with eyes filled with wonderment, a woman said to her daughter, "Maria, you're not to touch not even the pews." Everything within sight of such a structure she held sacred. Astonished at its internal capacity, another asked, "Do all the clergy sit in it?" Not realising its true character and intent, a lady wished to know, "By whom was this monument erected?" As we had long since ascertained how impossible it was to please everybody, we were not surprised to find dissatisfied critics presenting themselves. One of this class said, "It looks like a tomb, and smells like a coffin." Another, with sarcastic wit, said, "Moses looks like some churchwarden who would have to be careful how he ate his soup." We append a few more questions we have had to answer:
"Was this church built by St. Nicholas?"
"Does this church stand in four parishes?"
"How many miles is it round the walls of this church?"
"How many does this hold? We were told it holds 12,000."
A clergyman asked, "Where are the bells? Are they in the tower?"
"Haven't you a Bible 3000 years old?"
"Haven't you a Bible that turns over its own leaves?"
"Who had the missing leaves of this (Cranmer's) Bible?"
"Is this the Bible that was chained in Brentwood Church?"
A lady pointing to the font asked, "Is that the Communion Table?"
An elderly lady at the brass lectern inquired, "Is this the clerk's seat?"
A man standing looking over the Communion rails wished to know, "What part of the church do you call this?"
"Was one of the giants buried in the churchyard?"
"Where is the gravestone where a man, his wife, and twenty-five children were buried? I saw it when I was here some years ago, and forget on which side of the church it is."
A young man gazing at the top of the lofty flagstaff just inside the churchyard gates, asked, "Was that erected to the memory of a shipwrecked crew?"
With such extraordinary exhibitions of blatant ignorance can a worthy clerk regale himself, but they must be very trying at times.
Mr. Lupson has also writtenThe Friendly Guide to the Parish Church and other places of interest in the neighbourhood, The Rows of Great Yarmouth; why so constructed, and some devotional works.
He is also the author of the following additional verse to the National Anthem, sung on the occasion of the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria:
"Long life our Queen has seen:Glorious her reign has been:Secure her throne!Her subjects' joy and pride,God's Word be still her guide:Long may she yet abideEmpress and Queen!"
The sons of parish clerks have sometimes attained to high dignity in the Church. The clerk of Totnes, Devonshire, had a son who was born in 1718, andwho became the distinguished author and theologian, Dr. Kennicott. On one occasion he went to preach at the church in his native village, where his father was still acting as clerk. The old man insisted upon performing his accustomed duties, placing the surplice or black gown on his son's shoulders, and sitting below him in the clerk's lowly desk. The mother of the scholar was so overcome with joy at hearing him preach, that she fainted and was carried out of the church insensible. Cuthbert Bede records that he was acquainted with two eminent clergymen who were the sons of parish clerks. One of them was a learned professor of a college and an author of repute, and the other was attended by his father in the same manner as Dr. Kennicott was by his.
Sometimes our failures are the stepping-stones to success in life. The celebrated Dr. Prideaux, Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford and Bishop of Worcester in 1641, was the son of poor parents at Harford, near Totnes. He applied for the post of parish clerk at Ugborough, but failed to obtain the appointment. He was much disappointed, and in despair wandered to Oxford, where he became a servitor at Exeter College, and ultimately attained to the position of rector or head of his college. When he became bishop, he was accustomed to say, "If I could have been clerk of Ugborough, I had never been bishop of Worcester."
The history of the clerks of Barnstaple (1500-1900) has been traced by the Rev. J.F. Chanter[95], and the record is remarkable as showing their important status, and how some were raised to the diaconate, and indifficult times rendered good service to the Church and the incumbents. The first clerk of whom any trace can be found was Thomas Hunt (1540-68). He appears in the register books asclericus de hoc opido, and in the churchwardens' accounts for 1564 there is an entry, "Item to Hunt the clerke paid for lights 2 s. 8 d." He was succeeded by his son, John Hunt (1564-84). Robert Langdon flourished as clerk from 1584 to 1625, when spiritual matters were at a low ebb in the parish. The vicar was excommunicated in 1589. His successor quickly resigned, and the next vicar was soon involved in feuds with some of his puritanically inclined parishioners. The quarrel was increased by the unworthy conduct of Robert Smyth, a preacher and lecturer who was appointed and paid by the corporation, and cared little for vicar or bishop. He was an extreme Puritan, and had a considerable following in the parish. His refusal to wear a surplice, though ordered to do so by the bishop, brought the dispute to a head. He was inhibited, but his followers retorted by accusing the vicar of being a companion of tipplers and fooling away his time with pipe and tabor, and finally bringing an accusation against him, on account of which the poor man was cited before the High Commission Court. The charge came to nothing, and Smyth for a time conformed and wore his surplice. Then some of the Puritan faction refused to accept the vicar's ministrations, and two of them were tried at the assizes and sent to gaol. "If they would rather go to gaol than church," said the town clerk, "much good may it do them. I am not of their mind." Passive resisters were not encouraged in those days. But the relations between vicar and lecturer continued strained, and the former bethought him of his faithfulclerk, Robert Langdon, as a helper in the ministry. He applied to the bishop to raise him to the diaconate, and this was done, Langdon being ordained deacon on 21 September, 1606, by William Cotton, Bishop of Exeter. The record of this notable event, the ordination of a parish clerk, thus appears in the ordination register of the diocese:
"In festo Matthæi Apostoli Dominus Episcopus in ecclesia parochiali de Silfertone xxi mo die Septembris 1606 ordines sacros celebrando ordinavit, sequuntur Diaconi tunc et ibidinem ordinati videlicet Robertus Langdon de Barnestapli."
[95]Transactions of the Devonshire Association for the Advancement of Science, Literature, and Art, 1904, xxxvi. pp. 390-414.
Langdon remained parish clerk and deacon nineteen years, and the register contained the record of his burial, "Robert Langdon deacon 5th July 1625." He seems to have brought peace to the troubled mind of his vicar, whose tombstone declares:
"Many are the troubles of the RighteousBut the Lord delivereth out of all."
Langdon used to keep the registers, and he began to record in them a series of notes on passing events which add greatly to the interest of such volumes. Thus we find an account of a grievous fire at Tiverton in 1595, a violent storm at Barnstaple in 1606, and a great frost in the same year; another fire at Tiverton in 1612, and the scraps of Latin which appear show that he was a man of some education.
Anthony Baker reigned from 1625 to 1646, who had also been ordained deacon prior to his appointment to Barnstaple, and belonged to an old yeoman family. He was popular with the people, who presented him with a new gown. He saw the suspension of his vicar by the Standing Committee, and probably died of theplague in 1646, when the town found itself without vicar, deacon, or clerk. The plague was raging, people dying, and no one to minister to them. No clergyman would come save the old vicar, Martyn Blake, who was at length allowed by the Puritan rulers to return, to the great joy of the inhabitants. He appointed Symon Sloby (1647-81), but could not get him ordained deacon, as bishops and ordination were abhorred and abolished by the Puritan rulers. Sloby was appointed "Register of Barnestapell" during the Commonwealth period. He saw his vicar ejected and carried off to Exeter by some of the Parliamentary troopers and subsequently restored to the living, and records with much joy and loyalty the restoration of the monarchy. He served three successive vicars, records many items of interest, including certain gifts to himself with a pious wish for others to go and do likewise, and died in a good old age.
Richard Sleeper succeeded him in 1682, and reigned till 1698. He conformed to the more modern style of clerk of an important parish, a dignified official who attended the vicar and performed his duties on Sunday, occupying the clerk's desk. Of his successors history records little save their names. William Bawden, a weaver, was clerk from 1708 to 1726, William Evans 1726 to 1741, John Taylor 1741 to 1760, John Comer 1760 to 1786, John Shapcote 1786 to 1795, Joseph Kimpland 1795 to 1798, who was a member of an old Barnstaple family and was succeeded by his son John (1798-1832), John Thorne (1832-1859), John Hartnoll (1859-1883), and William Youings 1883 to 1901.
This is a remarkable record, and it would be well if in all parishes a list of clerks, with as much information as the industrious inquirer can collect, could be sosatisfactorily drawn up and recorded, as Mr. Chanter has so successfully done for Barnstaple. The quaint notes in the registers written by the clerk give some sort of key to his character, and the recollections of the oldest inhabitants might be set down who can tell us something of the life and character of those who have lived in more modern times. We sometimes record in our churches the names of the bishops of the see, and of the incumbents of the parish; perhaps a list of the humbler but no less faithful servants of the Church, the parish clerks, might be added.
Often can we learn much from them of old-world manners, superstitions, folk-lore, and the curious form of worship practised in the days of our forefathers. My own clerk is a great authority on the lore of ancient days, of bygone hard winters, of weather-lore, of the Russian war time, and of the ways of the itinerant choir and orchestra, of which he was the noted leader. Strange and curious carols did he and his sons and friends sing for us on Christmas Eve, the words and music of which have been handed down from father to son for several generations, and have somewhat suffered in their course. His grandson still performs for us the Christmas Mumming Play. The clerk is seventy years of age, and succeeded his father some forty years ago. Save for "bad legs," the curse of the rustic, he is still hale and hearty, and in spite of an organ and surpliced choir, his powerful voice still sounds with a resonant "Amen." Never does he miss a Sunday service.
We owe much to our faithful clerks. Let us revere their memories. They are a most interesting race, and your "Amen clerk" is often more celebrated and better known than the rector, vicar, patron or squire. Theirreverence, of which we have given many alarming instances, was the irreverence of the times in which they lived, of the bad old days of pluralist rectors and itinerant clerics, when the Church was asleep and preparing to die with what dignity she could. We may not blame the humble servitor for the faults and failings of his masters and for the carelessness and depravity of his age. We cannot judge his homely ways by the higher standard of ceremonial and worship to which we have become accustomed. Charity shall hide from us his defects, while we continue to admire the virtues, faithfulness and devotion to duty of the old parish clerk, who retains a warm place in our hearts and is tenderly and affectionately remembered by the elder generation of English Churchpeople.