The Parish Clerk Part 30

A writer in _Notes and Queries_ tells 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, a.s.sured 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?"

CHAPTER XXII

LONGEVITY AND HEREDITY--THE DEACON-CLERKS OF BARNSTAPLE

There are numerous instances of the hereditary nature of the clerk's office, which has frequently been pa.s.sed 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 f.e.c.kenham, 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, having been 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 pa.s.sed 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, who serves 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 ent.i.tled _Cupid's Pupils_, compiled from the personal "recollections of a parish clerk who a.s.sisted 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 by the 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 cla.s.ses, 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 at every 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 antic.i.p.ating 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 pa.s.s 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 aping gentility: some a.s.suming positions that knew them not, and some claiming talents they did not possess. We will unmask a specimen of the latter cla.s.s. 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 cla.s.sics, 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 p.r.i.c.king 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 repet.i.tion 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 mult.i.tudes 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 a.s.serts 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 a _vox humana_ stop, called it a _vox 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 cla.s.s 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 bra.s.s 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 written _The 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, G.o.d's Word be still her guide: Long may she yet abide Empress 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, and who 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 in difficult times rendered good service to the Church and the inc.u.mbents.

The first clerk of whom any trace can be found was Thomas Hunt (1540-68). He appears in the register books as _clericus 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 a.s.sizes 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." Pa.s.sive resisters were not encouraged in those days. But the relations between vicar and lecturer continued strained, and the former bethought him of his faithful clerk, 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 Matthaei 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."

[Footnote 95: _Transactions of the Devonshire a.s.sociation for the Advancement of Science, Literature, and Art_, 1904, x.x.xvi. 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: