The Parish Clerk Part 8

CHAPTER VI

CLERKS TOO CLERICAL. SMUGGLING DAYS AND SMUGGLING WAYS

It is perhaps not altogether surprising that in times when ordained clergymen were scarce, and when much confusion reigned, the clerk should occasionally have taken upon himself to discharge duties which scarcely pertained to his office. Great diversity of opinion is evident as regards the right of the clerk to perform certain ecclesiastical services, such as his reading of the Burial Service, the Churching of Women, and the reading of the daily services in the absence of the inc.u.mbent. In the days of Queen Elizabeth, judging from the numerous inquiries issued by the bishops at their visitations, one would imagine that the parish clerk performed many services which pertained to the duties of the parish priest. It is not likely that such inquiries should have been made if some reports of clerks and readers exceeding their prescribed functions had not reached episcopal ears. They ask if readers presume to baptize or marry or celebrate Holy Communion. And the answers received in several cases support the surmise of the bishops. Thus we read that at Westbere, "When the parson is absent the parish clerk reads the service." At Waltham the parish clerk served the parish for the most as the vicar seldom came there. At Tenterden the service was read by a layman, one John Hopton, and at Fairfield a reader served the church.

This was the condition of those parishes in 1569, and doubtless many others were similarly situated.

The Injunctions of Archbishop Grindal, issued in 1571, are severe and outspoken with regard to lay ministration. He wrote as follows:

"We do enjoin and straitly command, that from henceforth no parish clerk, nor any other person not being ordered, at the least, for a deacon, shall presume to solemnize Matrimony, or to minister the Sacrament of Baptism, or to deliver the communicants the Lord's cup at the celebration of the Holy Communion. And that no person, not being a minister, deacon, or at least, tolerated by the ordinary in writing, do attempt to supply the office of a minister in saying divine service openly in any church or chapel."

In the Lincoln diocese in 1588 the clerk was still allowed to read one lesson and the epistle, but he was forbidden from saying the service, ministering any sacraments or reading any homily. In some cases greater freedom was allowed. In the beautiful Lady Chapel of the Church of St.

Mary Overy there is preserved a curious record relating to this:

"Touching the Parish Clerk and s.e.xton all is well; only our clerk doth sometimes to ease the minister read prayers, church women, christen, bury and marry, being allowed so to do.

"December 9. 1634."

Bishop Joseph Hall of Exeter asked in 1638 in his visitation articles, "Whether in the absence of the minister or at any other time the Parish Clerk, or any other lay person, said Common Prayer openly in the church or any part of the Divine Service which is proper to the Priest?"

Archdeacon Marsh, of Chichester, in 1640 inquires: "Hath your Parish Clerk or s.e.xton taken upon him to meddle with anything above his office, as churching of women, burying of the dead, or such like?"

During the troublous times of the Commonwealth period it is not surprising that the clerk often performed functions which were "above his office," when clergymen were banished from their livings. We have noticed already an example of the burial service being performed by the clerk when he was so rudely treated by angry Parliamentarians for using the Book of Common Prayer. Here is an instance of the ceremony of marriage being performed by the parish clerk:

"The marriages in the Parish of Dale Abbey were till a few years previous to the Marriage Act, solemnized by the Clerk of the Parish, at one s.h.i.+lling each, there being no minister."

This Marriage Act was that pa.s.sed by the Little Parliament of 1653, by which marriage was p.r.o.nounced to be merely a civil contract. Banns were published in the market-place, and the marriages were performed by Cromwell's Justices of the Peace whom, according to a Yorks.h.i.+re vicar, "that impious and rebell appointed out of the basest Hypocrites and dissemblers with G.o.d and man." The clerks' marriage ceremony was no worse than that of the justices.

Dr. Macray, of the Bodleian Library, has discovered the draft of a licence granted by Dr. John Mountain, Bishop of London, to Thomas d.i.c.kenson, parish clerk of Waltham Holy Cross, in the year 1621, permitting him to read prayers, church women, and bury the dead. This licence states that the parish of Waltham Holy Cross was very s.p.a.cious, many houses being a long distance from the church, and that the curate was very much occupied with his various duties of visiting the sick, burying the dead, churching women, and other business belonging to his office; hence permission is granted to Thomas d.i.c.kenson to a.s.sist the curate in reading prayers in church, burying dead corpses, and to church women in the absence of the curate, or when the curate cannot conveniently perform the same duty in his own person.

Doubtless this licence was no solitary exception, and it is fairly certain that other clerks enjoyed the same privileges which are here a.s.signed to Master Thomas d.i.c.kenson. He must have been a worthy member of his cla.s.s, a man of education, and of skill and ability in reading, or episcopal sanction would not have been given to him to perform these important duties.

It is evident that parish clerks occasionally at least performed several important clerical functions with the consent of, or in the absence of the inc.u.mbents, and that in spite of the articles in the visitations of some bishops who were opposed to this practice, episcopal sanction was not altogether wanting.

The affection with which the paris.h.i.+oners regarded the clerk is evidenced in many ways. He received from them many gifts in kind and money, such as eggs and cakes and sheaves of corn. Some of them were demanded in early times as a right that could not be evaded; but the compulsory payment of such goods was abolished, and the paris.h.i.+oners willingly gave by courtesy that which had been deemed a right.

Sometimes land has been left to the clerk in order that he may ring the curfew-bell, or a bell at night and early morning, so that travellers may be warned lest they should lose their way over wild moorland or bleak down, and, guided by the sound of the bell, may reach a place of safety.

An old lady once lost her way on the Lincolns.h.i.+re wolds, nigh Boston, but was guided to her home by the sound of the church bell tolling at night. So grateful was she that she bequeathed a piece of land to the parish clerk on condition that he should ring one of the bells from seven to eight o'clock each evening during the winter months.

There is a piece of land called "Curfew Land" at St.

Margaret's-at-Cliffe, Kent, the rent of which was directed to be paid to the clerk or other person who should ring the curfew every evening in order to warn travellers lest they should fall over the cliff, as the unfortunate donor of the land did, for want of the due and constant ringing of the bell.

In smuggling days, clerks, like many of their betters, were not immaculate. The venerable vicar of Worthing, the Rev. E. K. Elliott, records that the clerk of Broadwater was himself a smuggler, and in league with those who throve by the illicit trade. When a cargo was expected he would go up to the top of the spire, which afforded a splendid view of the sea, and when the coast was clear of preventive officers he would give the signal by hoisting a flag. Kegs of contraband spirits were frequently placed inside two huge tombs which have sliding tops, and which stand near the western porch of Worthing church.

The last run of smuggled goods in that neighbourhood was well within the recollection of the vicar, and took place in 1855. Some kegs were taken to Charman Dean and buried in the ground, and although diligent search was made, the smugglers baffled their pursuers.

At Soberton, Hants, there is an old vault near the chancel door. Now the flat stone is level with the ground; but in 1800 it rested on three feet of brickwork, and could be lifted off by two men. Here many kegs of spirit that paid no duty were deposited by an arrangement with the clerk, and the stone lifted on again. This secret hiding-place was never discovered, neither did the curate find out who requisitioned his horse when the nights favoured smugglers.

In the wild days of Cornish wreckers and wrecking, both priest and clerk are said to have taken part in the sharing of the tribute of the sea cast upon their rockbound coast. The historian of Cornwall, Richard Polwhele, tells of a wreck happening one Sunday morning just before service. The clerk, eager to be at the fray, announced to the a.s.sembled paris.h.i.+oners that "Measter would gee them a holiday."

I will not vouch for the truth of that other story told in the _Encyclopaedia of Wit_ (1801), which runs as follows:

"A parson who lived on the coast of Cornwall, where one great business of the inhabitants is plundering from s.h.i.+ps that are wrecked, being once preaching when the alarm was given, found that the sound of the wreck was so much more attractive than his sermon, that all his congregation were scampering out of church. To check their precipitation, he called out, 'My brethren, let me entreat you to stay for five words more'; and marching out of the pulpit, till he had got pretty near the door of the church, slowly p.r.o.nounced, 'Let us all start fair,' and ran off with the rest of them."

An old paris.h.i.+oner of the famous Rev. R. S. Hawker once told him of a very successful run of a cargo of kegs, which the obliging parish clerk allowed the smugglers to place underneath the benches and in the tower stairs of the church. The old man told the story thus:

"We bribed Tom Hockaday, the s.e.xton, and we had the goods safe in the seats by Sat.u.r.day night. The parson did wonder at the large congregation, for divers of them were not regular churchgoers at other times; and if he had known what was going on, he could not have preached a more suitable discourse, for it was, 'Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess.' It was one of his best sermons; but, there, it did not touch us, you see; for we never tasted anything but brandy and gin."

In such smuggling ways the clerk was no worse than his neighbours, who were all more or less involved in the illicit trade.

The old Cornish clerks who used to help the smugglers were a curious race of beings, remarkable for their familiar ways with the parson. At St. Clements the clergyman one day was reading the verse, "I have seen the unG.o.dly flourish like a _green bay_ tree," when the clerk looked up with an inquiring glance from the desk below, "How can that be, maister?" He was more familiar with the colour of a bay horse than the tints of a bay tree.

At Kenwyn two dogs, one of which belonged to the parson, were fighting at the west end of the church; the parson, who was then reading the second lesson, rushed out of the pew and went down and parted them.

Returning to his pew, and doubtful where he had left off, he asked the clerk, "Roger, where was I?" "Why, down parting the dogs, maister,"

replied Roger.

Two rocks stand out on the South Devon coast near Dawlish, which are known as the Parson and Clerk. A wild, weird legend is told about these rocks--of a parson who desired the See of Exeter, and often rode with his clerk to Dawlish to hear the latest news of the bishop who was nigh unto death. The wanderers lost their way one dark night, and the parson exhibited most unclerical anger, telling his clerk that he would rather have the devil for a guide than him. Of course, the devil or one of his imps obliged, and conducted the wanderers to an old ruined house, where there was a large company of disguised demons. They all pa.s.sed a merry night, singing and carousing. Then the news comes that the bishop is dead. The parson and clerk determine to set out at once. Their steeds are brought, but will not budge a step. The parson cuts savagely at his horse. The demons roar with unearthly laughter. The ruined house and all the devils vanish. The waves are overwhelming the riders, and in the morning the wretches are found clinging to the rocks with the grasp of death, which ever afterwards record their villainy and their fate.

Among tales of awe and weird mystery stands out the story of the adventures of Peter Priestly, clerk, s.e.xton, and gravestone cutter, of Wakefield, who flourished at the end of the eighteenth century. He was an old and much respected inhabitant of the town, and not at all given to superst.i.tious fears. One Sat.u.r.day evening he went to the church to finish the epitaph on a stone which was to be in readiness for removal before Sunday. Arrived at the church, where he had his workshop, he set down his lantern and lighted his other candle, which was set in a primitive candlestick formed out of a potato. The church clock struck eleven, and still some letters remained unfinished, when he heard a strange sound, which seemed to say "Hiss!" "Hus.h.!.+" He resumes his work undaunted. Again that awful voice breaks in once more. He lights his lantern and searches for its cause. In vain his efforts. He resolves to leave the church, but again remembers his promise and returns to his work. The mystic hour of midnight strikes. He has nearly finished, and bends down to examine the letters on the stone. Again he hears a louder "Hiss!" He now stands appalled. Terror seizes him. He has profaned the Sabbath, and the sentence of death has gone forth. With tottering steps Peter finds his way home and goes to bed. Sleep forsakes him. His wife ministers to him in vain. As morning dawns the good woman notices Peter's wig suspended on the great chair. "Oh, Peter," she cries, "what hast thou been doing to burn all t' hair off one side of thy wig?" "Ah!

bless thee," says the clerk, "thou hast cured me with that word." The mysterious "hiss" and "hush" were sounds from the frizzling of Peter's wig by the flame of the candle, which to his imperfect sense of hearing imported things horrible and awful. Such is the story which a writer in Hone's _Year Book_ tells, and which is said to have afforded Peter Priestly and the good people of merry Wakefield many a joke.

The _Year Book_ is always full of interest, and in the same volume I find an account of a most worthy representative of the profession, one John Kent, the parish clerk of St. Albans, who died in 1798, aged eighty years. He was a very venerable and intelligent man, who did service in the old abbey church, long before the days when its beauties were desecrated by Grimthorpian restoration, or when it was exalted to cathedral rank. For fifty-two years Kent was the zealous clerk and custodian of the minster, and loved to describe its attractions. He was the friend of the learned Browne Willis. His name is mentioned in Cough's _Sepulchral Monuments of Great Britain_, and his intelligence and knowledge noticed, and Newcombe, the historian of the abbey, expressed his grat.i.tude to the good clerk for much information imparted by him to the author. The monks could not have guarded the shrine of St.

Alban with greater care than did Kent protect the relics of good Duke Humphrey. His veneration for all that the abbey contained was remarkable. A story is told of a gentleman who purloined a bone of the Duke. The clerk suspected the theft but could never prove it, though he sometimes taxed the gentleman with having removed the bone. At last, just before his death, the man restored it, saying to the clerk, "I could not depart easy with it in my possession."

Kent was a plumber and glazier by trade, in politics a staunch partisan of "the Blues," and on account of his st.u.r.dy independence was styled "Honest John." He performed his duties in the minster with much zeal and ability, his knowledge of psalmody was unsurpa.s.sed, his voice was strong and melodious, and he was a complete master of church music. Unlike many of his confreres, he liked to hear the congregation sing; but when country choirs came from neighbouring churches to perform in the abbey with instruments, contemptuously described by him as "a box of whistles," the congregation being unable to join in the melodies, he used to give out the anthem thus: "Sing _ye_ to the praise and glory of G.o.d...." Five years before his death he had an attack of paralysis which slightly crippled his power of utterance, though this defect could scarcely be detected when he was engaged in the services of the church.

Two days before his death he sang his "swan-song." Some colours were presented to the volunteers of the town, and were consecrated in the abbey. During the service he sang the 20th Psalm with all the strength and vivacity of youth. When his funeral sermon was preached the rector alluded to this dying effort, and said that on the day of the great service "Nature seemed to have rea.s.sumed her throne; and, as she knew it was to be his last effort, was determined it should be his best." The body of the good clerk, John Kent, rests in the abbey church which he loved so well, in a spot marked by himself, and we hope that the "restoration," somewhat drastic and severe, which has fallen upon the grand old church, has not obscured his grave or destroyed the memorial of this worthy and excellent clerk.

CHAPTER VII

THE CLERK IN EPITAPH

The virtues of many a parish clerk are recorded on numerous humble tombstones in village churchyards. The grat.i.tude felt by both rector and people for many years of faithful service is thus set forth, sometimes couched in homely verse, and occasionally marred by the misplaced humour and jocular expressions and puns with which our forefathers thought fit to honour the dead. In this they were not original, and but followed the example of the Greeks and Romans, the Italians, Spaniards, and French.

This objectionable fas.h.i.+on of punning on gravestones was formerly much in vogue in England, and such a prominent official as the clerk did not escape the attention of the punsters. Happily the quaint fancies and primitive humour, which delighted our grandsires in the production of rebuses and such-like pleasantries, no longer find themselves displayed upon the fabric of our churches, and the "merry jests" have ceased to appear upon the memorials of the dead. We will glance at the clerkly epitaphs of some of the worthies who have held the office of parish clerk who were deemed deserving of a memorial.

In the southern portion of the churchyard attached to St. Andrew's Church, Rugby, is a plain upright stone containing the following inscription:

In memory of Peter Collis 33 years Clerk of this Parish who died Feb'y 28th 1818 Aged 82 years

[Some lines of poetry follow, but these unfortunately are not now discernible.]

At the time Peter held office the inc.u.mbent was noted for his card-playing propensities, and the clerk was much addicted to c.o.c.k-fighting. The following couplet relating to these worthies is still remembered:

No wonder the people of Rugby are all in the dark, With a card-playing parson and a c.o.c.k-fighting clerk.

Peter's father was clerk before him, and on a stone to his memory is recorded as follows:

In memory of John Collis Husband of Eliz: Collis who liv'd in Wedlock together 50 years he served as Parish Clerk 41 years And died June 19th 1781 aged 69 years