Grain and Chaff from an English Manor Part 8

We found Sir Thomas Graham Jackson a purist in the matter of church restoration, and in my capacity as churchwarden and treasurer, I was fortunate in having to confer with a man of such pre-eminent good taste. He would not allow some new oak panels, with which we had to supplement the old linen-pattern panels of the pulpit, to be coloured to match the old work. "Time," he said, "will bring them all together." Possibly the lapse of two hundred years may do so, but I saw at once that he was right in the principle that no sham should be tolerated in honest work, more especially in a sacred building. We objected also to a new chimney which surmounted the junction of the nave and choir exteriorly: it seemed to smack of domestic detail; but here again he satisfied us by saying that, as heating the building was a modern necessity, there was no reason to be ashamed of such an indispensable addition. As a matter of fact, this chimney long ago became nicely toned down by its native soot, and is practically unnoticeable.

There is much American oak, I believe, now used in new churches and public buildings; it appears to resemble chestnut much more than English oak, and I doubt whether it will ever acquire the beautiful tone which time confers upon the latter. It should, however, be recognized that much of the depth of colour of old oak panelling is really nothing but dirt, though the true dark brown tint of old age can be found underneath, and right to the centre of each piece.

Spring-cleaning of the past consisted very much in polishing with beeswax and turpentine, without removing the dirt produced by smoky fires and constant handling, so that extraneous matter became coated with the polish and preserved beneath it. I have had occasion, when restoring old woodwork, to wash off this outside accretion, and when removed, the tone of the wood remained still dark, though lighter than before it lost its black and somewhat sticky appearance.

The fakers of sham old furniture produce the intense darkness by stains of various kinds. I once found myself at an inn in Devonshire which contained a quant.i.ty of "delft" and "antique oak" furniture for sale. While the attendant was bringing me some refreshment, I tested the genuineness of the oak by a small chip with my pocket-knife, and, as I antic.i.p.ated, found perfectly white wood under the surface, and, I believe, American oak. The irony of the transaction is striking; here was a piece of wood imported from the States only a few months before, converted in this country into Elizabethan, Jacobean, and Stuart furniture, and then, it may be, bought by American visitors and taken back to their own country.

Some years before the church restoration could be taken in hand, a piece of land, bordering the west side of the churchyard, and between it and the highroad, and another similar piece on the east side of the churchyard, were offered for sale by auction. They belonged to the old Badsey Manor property and of course occupied important positions lying in each case just between the churchyard and the adjoining roads. An individual who had fallen out with the Vicar announced his intention of purchasing these pieces and building cottages and a public-house upon them, presumably "to spite the parson."

The Vicar at once saw the absolute necessity of acquiring the land for the church and enclosing it with suitable walls, as an addition to the churchyard. It would have been a terrible eyesore from the village street if ugly brick and blue-slated buildings were erected in front of the beautiful old grey church, and the idea of an inn in such a place was intolerable. He consulted the patrons of the living, who agreed to help, and simultaneously a good old aunt gave him leave to bid up to a certain sum on her behalf as a gift to the parish.

The patrons sent a representative to the sale with an undisclosed price, at which he was empowered to make the purchase. Absolute secrecy was preserved, and, except the Vicar, no one knew the man or whom he represented; he was to leave the train from Oxford at Honeybourne Station so as not even to come through Evesham to Badsey.

The Vicar had arranged that the patrons' representative should also bid on behalf of the aunt, but did not disclose the limit. The man was not to bid until the Vicar himself stopped, and he was to go on bidding until the Vicar removed a rose from his b.u.t.ton-hole, which would signify that the aunt's limit was reached. Whether the patrons'

representative could go any further or not, the Vicar did not know.

Before the auction the two did not meet, and they sat apart during the proceedings. The village malcontent was in great form, making certain of success, and was delighted when the Vicar apparently gave up bidding as if beaten. The rose was still in his b.u.t.ton-hole, but before long the aunt's limit was reached, and it had to be removed; he was however relieved to find that the patrons' representative continued to bid. His opponent was getting very fidgety as the price rose, hesitating for some moments every time the bidding was against him. Just as the hammer was about to fall he would arrest it with, "Try 'im again," but the stranger instantly capped his reluctant bid, always leaving him to consider a further advance in great discomfort.

At last in despair but quite certain that the Vicar at any rate was knocked out he gave up, exclaiming, "'E med 'ave it, 'e med 'ave it"; and the hammer fell. All eyes were fixed upon the unknown bidder, and the auctioneer demanded "the name of the buyer"; very quietly came the announcement, "The Dean and Chapter of Christ Church." Horribly disgusted the malcontent fired a parting shot as he reached the door: "If I'd a-knowed the pairson was a goin' to 'ave it, I'd a made 'im pay a pretty penny more nor that."

This Vicar was a very impressive reader, especially of dramatic stories from the Old Testament. As he read the account of the discomfiture of the priests of Baal by the Prophet Elijah one could visualize the scene. Elijah's dripping sacrifice blazing to the skies, the priests of Baal, mutilated by their own knives and lancets, in vain imploring their G.o.d to send the fire to vindicate himself. The heavens were black, and one could hear the rush of Ahab's chariot, the roar of the thunder and the hissing torrent of rain, and see the prophet running swiftly before him. The Vicar, however, was not an actor like a clergyman I was told of, who got so excited over Agag and his delicate approach to Samuel that he could not resist an ill.u.s.tration to intensify the action by taking a mincing step or two aside from the lectern.

No village is complete without its curmudgeon or self-appointed grumbler, just as every village has its special imbecile. The curmudgeon originates in a cla.s.s above the idiot; very often he is an ex-churchwarden, guardian, way-warden, or other official, who has resigned in dudgeon or been ousted from his post for some neglect or failure. He is a man with whom the world has gone wrong, a sufferer, perhaps, from some disaster which has become an obsession. He views everything with distorted eyesight; nothing pleases him, and he wants to put everybody right. He cherishes a perpetual grievance against some individual or clique for a fancied slight, and goes about trying to stir up ill-feeling among the ignorant by malicious insinuations.

In former times he was an adept at "parson-baiting" at the annual Easter vestry meeting, when he would air his grievance against the Vicar of the parish or any person in authority.

At these vestries the Vicar is wise if he declares the curmudgeon to be "out of order," and declines to hear him, for, legally, the business does not include any matter which does not appear upon the notice convening the meeting, signed by the Vicar and churchwardens.

This usually announces that churchwardens will be elected and the accounts produced; the latter, since church rates were abolished, is not obligatory, and only subscribers have a right to question them.

The proceedings are not legal unless three _full_ days have elapsed since the publication of the notice on a Sunday before morning service, the following Thursday being thus the earliest day on which the meeting can take place. It is important to remember that no churchwarden has a legal status before he has been formally admitted by the Archdeacon.

In former times, before the creation of Parish, District and County Councils, the curmudgeon, after the reaction of the winter months, became very prominent towards the time of the Easter vestry, when he would appear, having enlisted a small band of supporters, with a number of grievances relating to rates, parish officials, rights of way, footpaths, and such-like debatable subjects. Of course, he should have been promptly squashed by the chairman, but too often an indulgent Vicar would allow him to have his fling.

Now, however, the curmudgeon can easily get himself elected upon one of the numerous councils; having mismanaged his own affairs until he has none left to manage, he appears to regard himself as a fit and proper person to mismanage the business of other people, and the brief authority which his position confers gives him a welcome opportunity of letting off superfluous steam.

Parishioners sometimes combined and elected an unpopular person to a troublesome post which n.o.body wanted. Such was the office of way-warden, under whose jurisdiction came the management and repair of parish roads, superintending and paying the roadmen, and keeping the necessary records and accounts. A market-gardener, a canny Scot, who had fallen into disfavour, had this office thrust upon him much against his will. Once elected, the victim had no choice in the matter, and, being a very busy man, he was thoroughly annoyed. He soon discovered a weapon wherewith to avenge the wrong--one which his opponents had put into his hands themselves; during his year of office he restricted the road repairs to a lane adjoining his own land, leading to the railway-station, which his carts traversed many times daily. He gave it a thorough good coat of stones, and all the available labour, as well as the cash chargeable on the rates of the parish, was in this way expended, chiefly for his own benefit, though the parish shared to the extent of the use they made of this particular piece of road. Great was the outcry, but nothing could be done till the year of office expired, and, naturally, he was never elected again.

The purchase of the land adjoining the churchyard had a remarkable sequel; it was conveyed to the Vicar and churchwardens for the time being, these original churchwardens having been long out of the office before my appointment. After the restoration of the church my co-warden and I, with the Vicar's consent, levelled the rough places in the neglected churchyard, sowed it with gra.s.s seeds, and planted various ornamental shrubs; we had the untidy southern boundary carefully dug over, and set a man to plant a yew-hedge. He was thus employed when a parishioner appeared in some excitement, and objected to the planting of yew on account of possible damage to sheep grazing in the churchyard, claiming the right--which, as a matter of fact, belonged to the Vicar alone, though never exercised--to such grazing, jointly with the Vicar. He proceeded to pull up some of the young yews as a protest, and threw them uprooted on the ground. The man employed reported the matter to my co-warden, living near, who was very soon at my house.

We decided to prosecute the offender, and obtained the Vicar's consent, he being the legal prosecutor. The case was heard by a bench of magistrates composed entirely of clergy and churchwarden squires, who naturally sympathized with us, and, quite logically, convicted the defendant in a fine, I think, of about 25s. and costs, or a term in Worcester Gaol in default. The defendant refused to pay a farthing and was removed in custody; but later our dear old Vicar, very generously, came forward and paid the amount himself.

Shortly before the church restoration I had a notice to attend an archidiaconal visitation, and duly appeared at the church at the time arranged. The Archdeacon made a careful inspection of the fabric and property of the church, not too well pleased with its dilapidated appearance. Nothing much was said till we reached the fourteenth-century font, showing signs of long use. The Archdeacon motioned to the clerk to remove the oak cover, and the old man, with the air of an officious waiter, lifted it with a flourish, disclosing, inside the cracked font, a white pudding-basin, inside which, again, reposed a species of beetle known as a "devil's coach-horse." The Archdeacon, peering in and evidently recognizing the insect and its popular designation, and looking much shocked, exclaimed with some warmth: "Dear me! I should scarcely have expected to find _that_ thing in a font!"

This story reminds me of a similar visitation depicted in _Punch_. The Archdeacon was seen at the lych-gate of a country church in company with a churchwarden farmer, the Vicar being unable to attend. The contrast was well delineated--the Archdeacon tall, thin, and ascetic, in a long black coat and archidiaconal hat; and the farmer of the John Bull type, in ample breeches and gaiters. The churchyard presented a magnificent crop of exuberant wheat:

_Archdeacon_. I don't like this at all; I shall really have to speak to the Vicar about it.

_Churchwarden (thinking of the rotation of crops)_. Just what I told un, sir--just what I told 'un. "You keeps on a-wheating of it and a-wheating of it," I says; "why don't you tater it?" says I.

At Badsey objections were soon heard to the innovation of the surpliced choir and improved music in the restored church; one old villager, living close by, expressed himself as follows concerning the entry of the Vicar and choir, in procession, from the new vestry:

"They come in with them boys all dressed up like a lot of little parsons, and the parson behind 'em just like the old Pope hisself. But there ain't no call for me to go to church now, for I can set at home and hear 'em a baarlin' [noise like a calf] and a harmenin [amening] in me own house."

On a similar occasion, in another parish where more elaborate music had been introduced, an old coachman, given to much devotional musical energy, told me as a sore grievance: "You know, sir, I'd used to like singin' a bit myself, but now, as soon as I've worked myself up to a tidy old pitch, all of a sudden _they_ leaves off, and I be left a bawlin'!"

Among various special weekday services I remember a Confirmation when an elderly Aldington parishioner had courageously decided to partic.i.p.ate in the rite. She was missing from the ceremony, and told my wife afterwards, in answer to inquiries, that a bad headache had prevented her from attending, adding: "But there, you can't stand agin your 'ead!"

I was at the house of a neighbouring Vicar where the Bishop of the diocese had been lunching shortly before, when there was a dish of very fine oranges on the table and another of Blenheim orange apples.

The Bishop was offered a Blenheim orange by the Vicar, who remarked that they came from his own garden. The Bishop had probably never heard of a Blenheim orange, and the latter word directed his attention to the dish of oranges. He examined them with great surprise, and exclaimed: "Dear me! I had no idea that oranges would come to such perfection out of doors in this climate."

A capital story was told by a Bishop of Worcester, in connection with the efforts of the Church in that part of the country to alleviate the lot of the hop-pickers, who flock into Worcestershire in September by the thousand. One of the mission workers, who had gone down to the hopyards, met a dilapidated individual in a country lane, who said he was "a picker." Pressed for further particulars, the man responded:

"In the summer I picks peas and fruit; when autumn comes I picks hops; in the winter I picks pockets; and when I'm caught I picks oak.u.m. I'm kept nice and warm during the cold months, and when the fine days come round once more I starts pea-picking again."

My second Vicar was a scholar, an excellent preacher of very condensed sermons; he conducted the services with great dignity, but his manner to the villagers was a little alarming. He found the old clerk somewhat officious, I think. One evening, after service, when some strangers from Evesham attended--for Badsey was a pleasant walk on a summer evening--the clerk announced to the Vicar, with great jubilation, that "the gentleman with the party from Evesham expressed himself as very well satisfied with the service." No doubt the clerk had received a practical proof of the satisfaction. The clerk imagined, I believe, that he was as much responsible for the conduct of the services as the Vicar, and thought the latter would be equally pleased with the stranger's commendation. He was disappointed, I fear, for the Vicar did not seem in the least impressed, showing, too, some annoyance at what doubtless appeared to him great presumption.

At the time of the Boer War, followed by the Boxers' revolt in China and the Siege of Peking, when telegrams were exhibited in the post-office every Sunday morning, I saw one day, on my way to church, that Peking had been relieved. The Vicar--my third--preached on the subject of the terrors of the siege--his sermon having been written on the previous day--and drew a harrowing picture of the fate of the defenders. After service I asked if he had not seen the telegram, and told him the good news. "Good gracious!" said he; "I _am_ glad I didn't know that before the service; what _should_ I have done about my sermon?" I was a little surprised that the delivery of a sermon which was no longer to the point should appear more important than the announcement of the happy event; but perhaps the position would have been somewhat undignified had he been obliged to explain, and dismiss the congregation with apologies.

An elderly Vicar, in a parish in the adjoining county, Gloucestershire, found the morning service with a sermon very fatiguing, and the patron, the Squire, suggested that the ante-Communion service would be less tiring in place of the latter. He was not a very interesting preacher, and the Squire was quite as well pleased as the Vicar when he agreed. There was never a sermon at the morning service thereafter.

Other denominations besides the Church, of course, existed in the parish and neighbourhood; we did not hear much about them, but the following story was related as occurring in a neighbouring village. To see the point it is necessary to introduce the actors; they consisted of Daniel S. and Jim H., rival hedgers in the art of "pleaching," of which Joseph Arch was such a notable exponent. Daniel had lately been employed upon a job of this kind for a farmer, Mr. (locally Master) R.

The scene was the room that did duty for a chapel in the village.

Daniel S. advanced to the reading-desk, and, turning over the leaves of the Bible to find the Book of Daniel, announced sententiously: "Let's see what Dannel done in his dai (day)." Up jumped Jim H. at the back of the room: "Oh, I can tell tha (thee) what Dannel done in his dai--cut a yedge (hedge) for Master R., and took whome all the best of the 'ood (wood)!"

A story was current too--nearer home this time--of a grand fete given to the children. They marched in procession from one village to another, in which the tea was to take place, under the leadership of an ancient parishioner. Of this person it was said that he had violated every article of the Decalogue, and that had the number been twenty instead of ten he would have treated them with equal indifference! As the children entered the second village with beaming faces and banners waving, as he gave the word of command, they sang in sweet trebles and in perfect innocence, "See the mighty host advancing, Satan leading on!"

CHAPTER IX.

THE SCHOOL BOARD--RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION--SCHOOL INSPECTIONS--DEAN FARRAR--COMPULSORY EDUCATION.

"Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much; Wisdom is humble that he knows no more."

--COWPER.

When I came to Aldington I found that by the energy of the Vicar an elementary school had been built and equipped, and was working well under the voluntary system. I accepted the post of treasurer at his invitation, but as time went on financial difficulties arose, as the Education Department increased their requirements. The large farmers were being gradually ruined by foreign compet.i.tion, and the small market-gardeners, in occupation of the land as it fell vacant, could not be induced to subscribe, although their own children were the sole beneficiaries. A voluntary rate was suggested, but met with no general response, one old parishioner announcing that she didn't intend "to pay no voluntary rate until she was obliged"!

Matters were getting desperate when Vicar No. 2 arrived, and it soon became evident that the voluntary system had completely broken down. A School Board was the only alternative, and, as all the old managers refused to become members and no one else would undertake the responsibility, a deadlock ensued. We were threatened by the Education Department that, failing a Board of parishioners, they would appoint for the post any outsiders, non-ratepayers, who could be induced to volunteer. The prospect was not a pleasant one, and on the invitation of a deputation of working men, I agreed to stand (chiefly, perhaps, in my own interests, as the largest ratepayer in the parish, with the exception of the Great Western Railway Company), and others eventually came forward.

The Board was const.i.tuted, and we were rather a three-cornered lot: my co-warden; a boot and shoemaker in Evesham, with land in Badsey; a carpenter and small builder; three small market-gardeners and myself.

I was elected chairman, and we obtained the services of an excellent clerk, who held the same office for the Evesham Board of Guardians--a capable man, and well up in the forms and idiosyncrasies of the Board of Education. Our designation was "the United District School Board of Badsey, Aldington, and Wickhamford." It was not easy to discover the qualifications of all the members from an educational point of view; some at least represented the village malcontent section, now getting rather nervous as to School Board rates. And there was a talkative section who ill.u.s.trated the truth of the old proverb, "It is not the loudest cackling hen that lays the biggest egg," and of, perhaps, the still more expressive, "It's the worst wheel of the waggon that makes the most noise." One, at any rate, was definitely qualified--"He knowed summat about draining!" The majority were conspicuous as economists in the matter of probable school expenditure, and it appeared later that two, if not three, of the members were unable to write their own names, so that sometimes we could not get the necessary number of signatures to the cheques, when some of the more efficient members happened to be absent.

Early in our existence as a United Board, one of the economists made a little speech in which he propounded the theory that "our first duty is to the ratepayers"; but I could not help suggesting that, as a legally appointed body, we were bound to obey the law beyond all other considerations, and corrected his dictum, with all respect, by subst.i.tuting that "our first duty is to the children." I must do him the justice to say that he accepted my suggestion in a complimentary manner.

It soon became evident that it is not always desirable to belong to a parish grouped with others under a United District School Board.

Aldington possessed the largest rateable value with the lowest population, which was about equal to Wickhamford with the lowest rateable value; and Badsey, with by far the largest population, came between Aldington and Wickhamford as to rateable value--the obvious result being that Aldington was called upon to pay an excessive and unfair share of the cost of educating Badsey's children. We did not, however, want a school in our quiet village; it is something to get rid of children when inclined to be noisy, so we did not grumble at a little extra expense.

We carried on the school at first in the old building, but very soon the Department began to press for a larger and better-equipped establishment. Many of their requirements we considered unnecessary in a country village, and put off the evil day as long as possible, with such phrases as, "The matter is under consideration," or, "Will shortly be brought to the notice of the Board." Like "retribution,"

however, the Education Department, "though leaden-footed, comes iron-handed," and when all other methods failed they always put forward as a final inducement to comply with their demands the threat of withholding the Government grant; so that, in spite of the shoemaker's encomium, that "Our chairman has plenty of com_bat_iveness," we had eventually to give way.