The Parish Clerk Part 2

[Footnote 4: Rev. C. Kerry's _History of S. Lawrence's Church, Reading_, p. 25.]

Indeed, the clerk can claim a more perfect continuity of office than the rector or vicar. There was a time when the inc.u.mbents were forced to leave their cure and give place to an intruding minister appointed by the Cromwellian Parliament. But the clerk remained on to chant his "Amen" to the long-winded prayers of some black-gowned Puritan. That is a very realistic scene sketched by Sir Walter Besant when he describes the old clerk, an ancient man and rheumatic, hobbling slowly through the village, key in hand, to the church door. It was towards the end of the Puritan regime. After ringing the bell and preparing the church for the service, he goes into the vestry, where stood an ancient black oak coffer, the sides curiously graven, and a great rusty key in the lock.

The clerk (Sir Walter calls him the s.e.xton, but it is evidently the clerk who is referred to) turns the key with difficulty, throws open the lid, and looks in.

"Ay," he says, chuckling, "the old surplice and the old Book of Common Prayer. Ye have had a long rest; 'tis time for you both to come out again. When the surplice is out, the book will stay no longer locked up." He draws forth an old and yellow roll. It was the surplice which had once been white. "Here you be," he says; "put you away for a matter of twelve year and more, and you bide your time; you know you will come back again; you are not in any hurry. Even the clerk dies; but you die not, you bide your time. Everything comes again. The old woman shall give you a taste o' the suds and the hot iron. Thus we go up and thus we go down." Then he takes up the old book, musty and damp after twelve years' imprisonment. "Fie," he says, "thy leather is parting from thy boards, and thy leaves they do stick together. Shalt have a pot of paste, and then lie in the sun before thou goest back to the desk.

Whether 'tis Ma.s.s or Common Prayer, whether 'tis Independent or Presbyterian, folk mun still die and be buried--ay, and married and born--whatever they do say. Parson goes and Preacher comes; Preacher goes and Parson comes; but s.e.xton stays." He chuckles again, puts back the surplice and the book, and locks the coffer[5].

[Footnote 5: _For Faith and Freedom_, by Sir Walter Besant, chap. 1.]

Like many of his brethren, he had seen the Church of England displaced by the Presbyterians, and the Presbyterians by the Independents, and the restoration of the Church. His father, who had been clerk before him, had seen the worship of the "old religion" in Queen Mary's time, and all the time the village life had been going on, and the clerk's work had continued; his office remained. In village churches the duties of clerk and s.e.xton are usually performed by the same person. Not long ago a gentleman was visiting a village church, and was much struck by the remarks of an old man who seemed to know each stone and tomb and legend.

The stranger asking him what his occupation was, he replied:

"I hardly know what I be. First vicar he called me clerk; then another came, and he called me virgin; the last vicar said I were the Christian, and now I be clerk again."

The "virgin" was naturally a slight confusion for verger, and the "christian" was a corrupt form of sacristan or s.e.xton. All the duties of these various callings were combined in the one individual.

That story reminds one of another concerning the diligent clerk of R----, who, in addition to the ordinary duties of his office, kept the registers and acted as groom, gardener, and footman at the rectory. A rather pompous rector's wife used to like to refer at intervals during a dinner-party to "our coachman says," "our gardener always does this,"

"our footman is ...," leaving the impression of a somewhat large establishment. The dear old rector used to disturb the vision of a large retinue by saying, "They are all one--old Corby, the clerk."

One of the chief characteristics of old parish clerks, whether in ancient or modern times, is their faithfulness to their church and to their clergyman. We notice this again and again in the biographies of many of these worthy men which it has been a privilege to study. The motto of the city of Exeter, _Semper fidelis_, might with truth have been recorded as the legend of their cla.s.s. This fidelity must have been sorely tried in the sad days of the Commonwealth period, when the sufferings of the clergy began, and the poor clerk had to bid farewell to his beloved pastor and welcome and "sit under" some hard-visaged Presbyterian or Puritan preacher.

Isaac Walton tells the pathetic story of the faithful clerk of the parish of Borne, near Canterbury, where the "Judicious" Hooker was inc.u.mbent. The vicar and clerk were on terms of great affection, and Hooker was of "so mild and humble a nature that his poor clerk and he did never talk but with both their hats on, or both off, at the same time."

This same clerk lived on in the quiet village until the third or fourth year of the Long Parliament. Hooker died and was buried at Borne, and many people used to visit his monument, and the clerk had many rewards for showing his grave-place, and often heard his praises sung by the visitors, and used to add his own recollections of his holiness and humility. But evil days came; the parson of Borne was sequestered, and a Genevan minister put into his good living. The old clerk, seeing so many clergymen driven from their homes and churches, used to say, "They have sequestered so many good men, that I doubt if my good Master Hooker had lived till now, they would have sequestered him too."

Walton then describes the conversion of the church into a Genevan conventicle. He wrote: "It was not long before this intruding minister had made a party in and about the said parish that was desirous to receive the sacrament as at Geneva: to which end, the day was appointed for a select company, and forms and stools set about the altar or communion table for them to sit and eat and drink; but when they went about this work, there was a want of some joint-stools which the minister sent the clerk to fetch, and then to fetch cushions. When the clerk saw them begin to sit down, he began to wonder; but the minister bade him cease wondering and lock the church door: to whom he replied, 'Pray take you the keys, and lock me out: I will never more come into this church; for men will say my Master Hooker was a good man and a great scholar; and I am sure it was not used to be thus in his days': and report says this old man went presently home and died; I do not say died immediately, but within a few days after. But let us leave this grateful clerk in his quiet grave."

Another faithful clerk was William Hobbes, who served in the church and parish of St. Andrew, Plymouth. Walker, in his _Sufferings of the Clergy_, records the sad story of his death. During the troubles of the Civil War period, when presumably there was no clergyman to perform the last rites of the Church on the body of a parishioner, the good clerk himself undertook the office, and buried a corpse, using the service for the Burial of the Dead contained in the Book of Common Prayer. The Puritans were enraged, and threatened to throw him into the same grave if he came there again with his "Ma.s.s-book" to bury any body: which "worked so much upon his Spirits, that partly with Fear and partly with Grief, he Died soon after." He died in 1643, and the accounts of the church show that the balance of his salary was paid to his widow.

Many such faithful clerks have devoted their years of active life to the service of G.o.d in His sanctuary, both in ancient and modern times; and it will be our pleasurable duty to record some of the biographies of these earnest servants of the Church, whose services are too often disregarded.

I have mentioned the continuity of the clerk's office, unbroken by either Reformation changes or by the confusion of the Puritan regime. We will now endeavour to sketch the appearance of the mediaeval clerk, and the numerous duties which fell to his lot.

Chaucer's gallery of ancient portraits contains a very life-like presentment of a mediaeval clerk in the person of "Jolly Absolon," a somewhat frivolous specimen of his cla.s.s, who figures largely in _The Miller's Tale_.

"Now was ther of that churche a parish clerk The which that was y-cleped[6] Absolon.

Curl'd was his hair, and as the gold it shone, And strutted[7] as a fanne large and broad; Full straight and even lay his folly shode.[8]

His rode[9] was red, his eyen grey as goose, With Paule's windows carven on his shoes.[10]

In hosen red he went full febishly.[11]

Y-clad he was full small and properly, All in a kirtle of a light waget;[12]

Full fair and thicke be the pointes set.

And thereupon he had a gay surplice, As white as is the blossom on the rise.[13]

A merry child he was, so G.o.d me save; Well could he letten blood, and clip, and shave, And make a charter of land and a quittance.

In twenty manners could he trip and dance, After the school of Oxenforde tho',[14]

And with his legges caste to and fro; And playen songes or a small ribible;[15]

Thereto he sung sometimes a loud quinible.[16]

And as well could he play on a gitern.[17]

In all the town was brewhouse nor tavern That he not visited with his solas,[18]

There as that any gaillard tapstere[19] was.

This Absolon, that jolly was and gay Went with a censor on the holy day, Censing the wives of the parish fast: And many a lovely look he on them cast,

Sometimes to show his lightness and mast'ry He playeth Herod on a scaffold high."

[Footnote 6: Called.]

[Footnote 7: Stretched.]

[Footnote 8: Head of hair.]

[Footnote 9: Complexion.]

[Footnote 10: His shoes were decked with an ornament like a rose-window in old St. Paul's.]

[Footnote 11: Daintily.]

[Footnote 12: A kind of cloth.]

[Footnote 13: A bush.]

[Footnote 14: The Oxford school of dancing is satirised by the poet.]

[Footnote 15: A kind of fiddle.]

[Footnote 16: Treble.]

[Footnote 17: Guitar.]

[Footnote 18: Sport, mirth.]

[Footnote 19: Tavern-wench.]

I fear me Master Absolon was a somewhat frivolous clerk, or his memory has been traduced by the poet's pen, which lacked not satire and a caustic but good-humoured wit. Here was a parish clerk who could sing well, though he did not confine his melodies to "Psalms and hymns and spiritual songs." He wore a surplice; he was an accomplished scrivener, and therefore a man of some education; he could perform the offices of the barber-surgeon, and one of his duties was to cense the people in their houses. He was an actor of no mean repute, and took a leading part in the mysteries or miracle-plays, concerning which we shall have more to tell. He even could undertake the prominent part of Herod, which doubtless was an object of compet.i.tion among the amateurs of the period.

Such is the picture which Chaucer draws of the frivolous clerk, a sketch which is accurate enough as far as it goes, and one that we will endeavour to fill in with sundry details culled from medieval sources.

Chaucer tells us that Jolly Absolon used to go to the houses of the parishioners on holy days with his censer. His more usual duty was to bear to them the holy water, and hence he acquired the t.i.tle of _aquaebajalus_. This holy water consisted of water into which, after exorcism, blest salt had been placed, and then duly sanctified with the sign of the cross and sacerdotal benediction. We can see the clerk clad in his surplice setting out in the morning of Sunday on his rounds. He is carrying a holy-water vat, made of bra.s.s or wood, containing the blest water, and in his hand is an _aspergillum_ or sprinkler. This consists of a round brush of horse-hair with a short handle. When the clerk arrives at the great house of the village he first enters the kitchen, and seeing the cook engaged on her household duties, he dips the sprinkler into the holy-water vessel and shakes it towards her, as in the accompanying ill.u.s.tration. Then he visits the lord and lady of the manor, who are sitting at meat in their solar, and asperges them in like manner. For his pains he receives from every householder some gift, and goes on his way rejoicing. Bishop Alexander, of Coventry, however, in his const.i.tutions drawn up in the year 1237, ordered that no clerk who serves in a church may live from the fees derived from this source, and the penalty of suspension was to be inflicted on any one who should transgress this rule. The const.i.tutions of the parish clerks at Trinity Church, Coventry, made in 1462, are a most valuable source of information with regard to the clerk's duties.

The following items refer to the orders relating to the holy water:

"Item, the dekyn shall bring a woly water stoke with water for hys preste every Sonday for the preste to make woly water.

"Item, the said dekyn shall every Sonday beyr woly water of hys chyldern to euery howse in hys warde, and he to have hys duty off euery man affter hys degre quarterly."

At the church of St. Nicholas, Bristol, in 1481, it was ordered that the "Clerke to ordeynn spryngals[20] for the church, and for him that visiteth the Sondays and dewly to bere his holy water to euery howse Abyding soo convenient a s.p.a.ce that every man may receive hys Holy water under payne of iiii d. tociens quociens."

[Footnote 20: Bunches of twigs for sprinkling holy water.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CLERK BEARING HOLY WATER AND ASPERGING THE COOK]