OR,
ONE PARSON AND TWO CLERKS.
It was at the very time,--for History is notoriously fond of
synchronisms for her greatest events,--witness Mycale and Plataea, fought
and won on the self-same day,--it was at the very time that Papineau and
the Canadian rebels took up swords and guns to resist Sir John Colborne
and the English troops,--that the old women of Stow, in the parts of
Lindsey, took up eggs to pelt the parish parson!
All the world knows, or if it doth not know it has profited but little
by the industry of antiquarians, that Stow, in the division of Lindsey,
and eight miles north-and-by-west of Lincoln, was an ancient Roman
station, under the euphonic appellation of _Sidnacester_; that under
that name it was the seat of a Saxon bishopric; that although Remigius
de Feschamp, one of the Norman tyrant's fighting churchmen, transferred
the seat of the diocese to Lincoln, yet when the stately cathedral which
he founded was finished, while they placed his episcopal effigy on one
of the grand pinnacles of the imposing west front, they fixed the
grotesque image of "the Swineherd of Stow" (holding in his hand the horn
which he gave filled with silver pennies, towards building the Minster,)
on the other; that the episcopal palace of Stow was the favourite
residence of the bishops of Lincoln down to the close of the fourteenth
century, and that Stow still gives title to an archdeacon; lastly, that
its venerable-looking church, dedicated to the blessed Virgin,
constructed in the form of the Holy Rood, and adorned with a west door
of decayed Gothic grandeur, is, to this day, called "the Mother of
Lincoln Minster."
Now such being the distinctions of Stow itself, of course the "Perpetual
Curate" of Stow, on receiving the awful impressment of episcopal hands,
and the mysterious investiture of canonical habits, together with the
comfortable appointment of the patron to the vacant curacy, entered on
the discharge of his spiritual functions with strong notions of the
altitude of his office, and of the plenary powers attached thereto. The
ideas of the governed, however, in these days, somehow or other, don't
happen to preserve an equal altitude, respecting office, with those of
the governors; and the new Perpetual Curate of Stow, the successor to
the once vice-regal priests of Sidnacester, was stricken with ghostly
astonishment at finding that sundry rustics of his parish cared not a
bodle for his new authority; that they snapped their fingers at his
counsel and reproofs; and, setting at nought his college learning,
preferred lending their ears to the unlearned Wesleyan local
preachers,--a race of heretics who are so vulgar and unfashionable as to
follow the example of Paul, and other vulgar workers of old, who earned
their bread with the labour of their own hands, and yet, occasionally,
ministered in word and doctrine. In the very nature of things this was
unsavoury to a clergyman,--especially to a young one,--but more
especially to one who actually stood in the shoes, speaking spiritually,
of the princely and potential bishops of Sidnacester: it was not for
him, above all established teachers in the shire, to endure such
contemptuous preferences, and by that endurance permit heresy to bud and
blossom unchecked.
Now, a neighbouring reverend brother of his, the fox-hunting shepherd of
Willingham, was also very grievously pestered with these energetic
heretics,--and he had resorted to the ancient evangelical custom of
thundering forth anathemas against them from his pulpit: but that only
seemed to render the pestiferous teachers more successful,--so the
Perpetual Curate of Stow resolved to exert the whole power of his wit in
discovering some effectual way of doing, what his zealous and pious
brother of Willingham could not do,--driving out heresy, and subduing
the rebellious spirit of his flock. So to work the Perpetual Curate went
with his wit, and a profound mine he wrought: such a mine as would, no
doubt, have blown up heresy for ever in his parish, had he ever been
able to put the match to it: so profound, that, since his scheme was
frustrated, no one has ever been able to fathom it, and, therefore,
_nobody_ can tell _anybody_ what it really was. But how was it that a
scheme so profound, so workmanlike, so masterly, did not succeed? Alas!
how often in this frail humanity of ours do the most exalted enterprises
fail, yea, often by the unexpected resistance of the very instruments on
which we think we can most unerringly and safely depend! And thus it was
with the great Perpetual Curate: he was most magnanimously bent on
subduing revolt and heresy, when, lo! even Sir Amen, his clerk, lifted
up his heel against him!
Now this was a notable event of a very auspicious character for the
revolters. Clerk William Middleton was no ordinary clerk. Gervase
Middleton, his father, had been clerk before him. Clerk William
Middleton had, therefore, an important hereditary stamp upon him. And
then, he was a _schollard_, as the old women called it, and was so
gentle, that he was never known to hurt a worm; so moral, that he was
never seen drunk in his life; so religious, that he never used a
stronger oath than "Marry good faith!" and "By'r Lady!" (old oaths of
popish times that are not yet lost in old Lincolnshire); and so upright,
that he would not deny his conscience, even for the parson! This was no
ordinary auxiliary on the side of the enemy; and there was no wonder
that it put the Perpetual Curate, for a while, to his wit's end, to hear
the reports which were brought to him by one Spurr (who was spurred on
by his own inward aims to reach Sir Amen's office), of the stout and
unflinching and open assertions made in the streets of Stow, by Clerk
William Middleton, that the Methodists had as much right to preach as
the parson! It was heresy he did not expect from such a quarter; but he
was resolved he would be even with this member of the revolt, however;
so he played a master-stroke so suddenly, that it shook the whole parish
like an earthquake: he actually _un_-clerked Clerk William Middleton,
the son of Clerk Gervase, the old, learned, hereditary, gentle, moral,
upright, pious, and religious parish-clerk!!!
This was a most unprecedented and most unexpected event; and it gave
rise, as may be guessed it would, to a mighty concatenation of
stupendous occurrences. The spirit of the Perpetual Curate was roused,
and his genius, too, as was proved by his statesmanlike blow at the
ring-leader of the rustic confederacy; and the spirit of the
parishioners was roused likewise, for they were determined that,
although the parson might appoint a new clerk, they would stick by the
old one. The ensuing Sunday, accordingly, brought forth the strange
anomaly of _one_ parson with _two_ clerks, reading the church service in
the ancient aisle of Stow! Moreover, when the _chosen_ of the Perpetual
Curate was beheld to be the egregious tale-bearer and notorious
sycophant, Spurr, who was no adept at the letters of his prayer-book,
the churchwarden and parishioners were alike wroth, and resolved, still
more resolutely, on abiding by their old respected utterer of amens,
Clerk William Middleton, the son of Clerk Gervase. Thus it fell out that
Clerk Spurr,--we know not, nor care we, what was his pronomen, or
"christened" name, as they call it in Lincolnshire; whether it were
Moses or Mahershalalhashbaz, Nahum or Nebuchadnezzar, Jeremiah or Judas
Iscariot, we cannot tell, nor doth it concern the dignity of this our
record, to say with positiveness,--for the fellow was but as a buzzard
to a sparrow-hawk, when compared with the rightful clerk; but thus it
fell out, that Clerk Spurr was called "the Parson's Clerk," while Clerk
William Middleton, the son of Clerk Gervase, bore the creditable and
legitimate epithet of "the Parish Clerk."
And, then, it came to pass that, when announcements of christenings,
burials, or marriages, had to be made, the parishioners, in the spirit
of their preference, commissioned their own clerk, "the Parish Clerk,"
to inform his Reverence the Perpetual Curate of the same, and to
request the fulfilment of the accustomed rites. But the cooler the
parishioners grew towards "the Parson's Clerk," the hotter did the
parson grow towards his parishioners. He scorned to compromise his
sacerdotal dignity by attempting a reconciliation with the unruly
spirits by which he was surrounded: he spurned the ignoble example of
the ancient worthies who thought the first and last part of Christianity
was meekness and long-suffering; and he meditated a still more
afflictive stroke of retaliation on his spiritual rebels.
Clerk William Middleton conveyed a request to his spiritual superior
from a sorrowing villager to bury his dead child;--but the grand
Perpetual Curate would not fulfil the request because it was brought him
by the discarded, though old, hereditary Amen,--and adjourned, in
dudgeon, to the hamlet of Coates,--while the poor villager's child was
put into its grave,--as every child of such rebels deserved to be
put,--_like a dog_,--without a prayer being read, or a hope expressed
about its resurrection!
This circumstance sank deeply into the minds of the Stow revolters: it
was a something that had never been heard of a clergyman in the memory
of man,--at least at Stow in the parts of Lindsey: it made their skin
creep, and the very "hair of their flesh to stand up,"--for they were
simple, unsophisticated sort of people, and, therefore, all strong
mental emotions had the same effects upon their physical frames, as the
author of "Job" and Homer describe in their days. But the strong feeling
did not evaporate through the pores of their skin, especially with the
more noble, though tenderer, sex: _they_ laid their heads together to do
such a deed upon a parson as had never been done upon one since the name
of parson had been known in Stow. In a short time another message had to
be despatched to the Perpetual Curate: a woman had to be churched, and a
child to be buried, on the same afternoon,--and, judging from the former
example, the villagers conjectured that his Reverence would "make
himself scarce" after the churching, and leave this child, also,
unburied. And now, a valorous army of the female gender, their pockets
plentifully provided with plenipotent ammunition of eggs, formed
themselves, in heroic ambuscade, near the church door, purposing right
courageously to assail the clerical enemy, if he should haughtily refuse
the offices of Christian sepulture to the deceased child. "Enterprises
of great pith and moment," however, as the immortal one saith, often
"their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action." So it was in
this ambuscade so gloriously planned. The clerical enemy wisely
capitulated: his clerk, "the Parson's Clerk," preceded the Perpetual
Curate from the church, as a herald of moderation, assuring the armed
battalion that his reverence would peaceably inter the child; and,
forthwith, some of the gallant troop immediately _grounded_ their arms,
while others preferred _throwing_ them to a distance,--in token that
they put away all hostile thoughts far from them.
And here, perchance, this chivalrous history might have ended, had not
the demon of Litigation, who was doubtless hovering near the field of
intended affray, taken the case into his own foul hands. Some part of
the rejected artillery chanced to alight upon the garments of "the
Parson's Clerk's" wife, and of the Perpetual Curate's servant-maid. It
was in vain that the members of the ambuscade protested this mishap to
be owing in no degree to their intent:--the parson commenced an action
at law against the entire petticoat regiment, or its ringleaders, for
"assault and battery."
Another untoward event thickened the quarrel, and doubled the action at
law; but the event itself cannot be so distinctly related as the last,
seeing it occurred in the dark, while the female ambuscade was planted
by broad daylight. The successor of the bishops, bearing a staff instead
of a crosier, and his chosen Amen, bearing a hayfork, chanced to meet
two youths connected with the revolters, one evening after dusk, in the
churchyard. Who gave the primal assault cannot be positively affirmed,
for it is not over safe to speak closely after the parties in a
squabble, when there are no other witnesses. However, a fight certainly
took place, even among the tombs of the dead; and so high did the wrath
of the belligerent Clerk Spurr rise in the conflict, that a cottager,
neighbouring to the church, heard with alarm, even at his own door, the
said clerkly warrior threaten to stab his opponent with the hayfork! Ere
the cottager could quit his door, up came the parson and demanded help;
but the cottager honestly told the parson "he would look better at
home." His Reverence then sought "help" at the blacksmith's shop, but
there, also, no one thought he needed it,--and so he retreated to his
lodgings.
Such, in a few words, was the cause of the double action at law; and, at
the ensuing Kirton sessions, the two youngsters who had either cudgelled
the parson, or had been cudgelled themselves, together with the
ringleaders of the famous female ambuscade, were together tried for
"assault and battery." But the wrathful parson did not get his will: the
affair was so ludicrous that he was compelled to consent that it should
be "hushed up."
To hush up the heart-burnings of the parties, on their return to the
seat of war, was, however, not so easy a matter. Above all things, did
it now become a difficult task to keep peace between the rival clerks.
Passing by the many minor occasions wherein fiery frowns and black
glances were exchanged, this history, which we must abridge, through
dread of being adjudged tedious, conducts us to another notable event,
which became the subject of _another_ "action-at-law," at a succeeding
Kirton Quarter Sessions.
The funeral of a parishioner was about to take place, and the friends of
the deceased "particularly requested" that Clerk William Middleton, the
son of Clerk Gervase,--the true "Parish Clerk,"--the old, hereditary,
and established, and legitimate pronouncer of conclusive amens,--might
give the responses at this funeral. Clerk Spurr, the "Parson's Clerk,"
however, determined on contesting the point;--and--a struggle for the
old folio prayer-book actually took place in the church!
Here, again, was a sight that had never been beheld, or dreamt of,
before, in the parish of Stow: but as strange and indecorous a sight as
it was, it was one that many a rural spectator declared he wouldn't have
missed for a quart of ale!--The very mourners for the dead were
compelled to hide their laughing faces with their white
handkerchiefs,--for the grotesque wrestling of the rival clerks, and
their looks of rage, as they together grasped and tugged at the
prayer-book, put weeping out of the question. The parson had got
through--"I said I will take heed to my ways,"--and wanted to
begin--"Lord, thou hast been our refuge,"--but there stood the
wrestlers, grasping, and pulling, and panting, and sweating,--and it was
a most difficult thing to say which would be likely to beat. Many a
stout farmer that shook his sides,--for the laugh became broad and
general, in spite of the solemnity of the occasion,--longed to shout
out, "A crown to a groat upon Middleton!"--but restrained himself. At
length,--the genuine, hereditary spirit of the true "Parish Clerk"
prevailed!--he possessed the book: the "Parson's Clerk" sought a seat,
to take his breath;--and Clerk William, panting, and wiping the
streaming perspiration from his comely and heroic brow, proceeded to
echo the "Confession" after the Perpetual Curate.
Such was the cause of the "action" brought by Spurr (at the direction,
and by the ghostly advice of the Perpetual Curate) against Middleton at
the succeeding sessions,--an action of "assault committed by the said
Middleton upon him the said Spurr, while in the performance of duty."
The jury, on this occasion,--to make short of the narrative,--sat till
eleven at night,--the Court rang with laughter for hours,--and the
affair was, at last, got rid of,--by some legal resort, and Spurr (or
his advisers) were saddled with costs. _That_ was a conclusion that
"gravelled" Spurr, as he said, on leaving the Court; and the Perpetual
Curate was also "gravelled"--though he did not use the same expression;
and they each showed it, soon after their second return to the old seat
of war. But another slight event must first be chronicled, ere the
several succeeding and exalted doings of the "Parson's Clerk" and the
Perpetual Curate are narrated.
Thomas Skill, was a skilful yeoman of good report, holding two farms in
the ancient parish of Stow; and although he eschewed all heresy and
dissent, and willed to worship after the fashion of his
forefathers,--who had been creditable yeomen in Stow from time
immemorial,--yet liked he not of the wayward doings of his Reverence the
Perpetual Curate. Now it chanced that on a certain Sunday in November
that the said Skill the skilful went, as was his pious and religious
wont, to pay his devotions _according to law_, in the parish church of
Stow, the ancient and venerated sanctuary of his forefathers. As a
holder of two farms, be it observed, this creditable yeoman had a right,
by the customs of this rural district, to _two_ pews; nevertheless,
being by no means a person of an unreasonable disposition, he was
content, on that day, to occupy but _one_, if so be that he might be
allowed to worship quietly. Nevertheless, scarcely was he seated, ere a
certain Jesse Ellis, an aged man of some rural rank as a
master-husband-man who had been selected by the Perpetual Curate as
_his_ churchwarden, came up to the pew-door, said "he was _ordered_ to
pull Skill out," and, forthwith, attempted to put the "order" into
execution. Did Skill the skilful resist?--Did he yield? No, no: he knew
a trick worth two of either. He had not his name for nought! When Ellis
laid his grasp vehemently on the pew-door, skilful Skill held it fast
for a few moments, and then skilfully let it go,--all in a moment,--so
that the vehement Ellis, by the vehemence of his grasp and the rebound
of the pew-door, was overthrown; and there he lay,--he, the parson's
own churchwarden,--on the floor of the aisle of Stow church, in the time
of "divine service," with the congregation from their seats and pews,
and the Perpetual Curate, from his reading-desk, and Clerk Spurr, the
"Parson's Clerk," and Clerk William Middleton, the son of Clerk Gervase,
squeezing one another in the desk below, and yet looking on, and all
looking on, at his signal defeat and overthrow: there he "lay
vanquished--confounded;"--like Milton's Satan, sprawling on the "fiery
gulf," when all the fallen angels were sprawling there likewise, but yet
looking on and shaking their heads at him for a rash captain--no doubt!
Then appeared Skill the skilful, and Ellis the sprawler, before a bench
of "Her Majesty's Justices of the Peace for the parts of Lindsey," in
the Moothall of Gainsborough; where the justices acted with sense and
discernment, and dismissed the sprawler's suit, saddling him with costs.
An end might have come to this episode here; but the sprawler and his
son were people of spirit, and were so much dissatisfied with this
decision of the justices, that they went home muttering all the way
about _law_, and declaring to every one they met, that they "would _yet
have it_." And so skilful Skill thought it wise and prudent to let them
"have it;" and, therefore, from mere neighbourly good humour, commenced
his action, in turn, against the said Jesse Ellis for attempting to
pull him out of his own pew, on the said Sunday in November, and in the
parish church of Stow aforesaid. Our manuscript hath, in this place, an
hiatus; so that we cannot say how the said action terminated: but it
will not excite wonder that amidst the ravelled tissue of broils and
litigations occasioned by the gospel-mindedness of the illustrious
successor to the Sidnacestrian prelates, some of their issues should
escape complete and satisfactory chronicle.
It behoveth, moreover, that we now attend to the more lofty department
of this our history of ecclesiastical revolutions,--for, as the sun
transcendeth the stars, so do the acts of sacerdotal personages outshine
the brightest deeds of the vulgar laity.
And first, of the continued luminous acts and deeds of Clerk Spurr, the
notable and notorious "Parson's Clerk," the hero of the hayfork. Let
none imagine that he always warred with such a vulgar weapon of the
field; forasmuch as his Reverence the Perpetual Curate, being in
possession of a grand double-barrelled gun, was wont to commit and
intrust it to the lawful custody of his worthy coadjutor in heroic
exercises, the heroic Clerk Spurr. Neither did it redound a little to
the credit of the Perpetual Curate's humanity, that he did so commit and
intrust the said formidable piece of ordnance to the custody of the said
Spurr;--forasmuch as the life and safety of that hero of the hayfork
were discerned to be seriously in danger,--inasmuch as it had been
proven how the malicious urchins of the community, participating deeply
in the heart-burnings of their sires and mothers, were wont often to
annoy, with sundry small pebbles and other mischief-working missiles,
the precious person of the said hero. Lest, therefore, these assaults
should issue in some bodily harm to himself, the man of nightly valour
was equipped with the gun, and speedily proceeded to defend himself
therewith, in the manner that shall now be described and related,
together with the fruition of his new act of heroism.
The night was two hours old,--no moon, no stars,--it was deeply dark and
murkily cloudy, and--but never mind all that! Anon, up cometh the troop
of youngsters, whispering laughter, and saying "Hush!" to each other, as
they approach the camp of the enemy. Little thought they, as they
marched along, each laden with his pocket of pebbles, of the sore
discomfiture which had been planned for them by the foe! Clerk Spurr,
that signal warrior of the implement with prongs, had planted himself,
firelock on shoulder, eye full of aim, and heart full of valour, close
by the usual point of attack. The besiegers halt,--and, in a moment, a
shower of gravel gravelleth their enemy; but loud as was the war-cry of
their tiny voices, above it rose the booming thunder of the "Parson's
Clerk's" grand double-barrelled gun,--and woeful was the effect
thereof!!! The shot or the wadding,--the manuscript sayeth not
which--had entered,--_not_ the brains, nor, even, the hats of the
juvenile assailants,--but--but--the church windows! Away scampered the
youngsters,--every mother's son feeling whether his head was off or
on,--and yelling, till every cottage door in the neighbourhood was
thrown open, and lights were brought out in alarm! Down tumbled the old
coloured glass from the ancient mullions, rattling on the tomb-stones
beneath, and sounding like curses on sacrilege in the ears of the
affrighted hero of the gun and the hayfork! His weapon dropped,--for he
was panic-struck! The churchwardens brought a bill against him for the
repair of the church-windows: he refused to pay: was brought before the
Lincoln county magistrates for recovery; and the hero of the hayfork had
to "fork out" seven shillings and sixpence for his freak! The Stow
rustics grinned from ear to ear, nodded approbation of the sentence, and
spread mirth and fun when they reached home with the news; but the
reverend successor of the ancient episcopal potencies was sorely grieved
at heart when he heard of this repetition of defeat for his chosen and
chop-fallen ejaculator of amens.
As for the grand Perpetual Curate himself, his personal troubles and
griefs, and the uninterrupted continuation thereof, would require
volumes for full narration. Suffice it to say, ere we bring this exalted
record to an end, that, in the profundity of his wisdom, he resorted to
multitudinous devices of apostolical character, after the defeats at
law that have been heretofore noted. During ten successive Sundays he
resorted to a most novel course of Christianity, closing the service
after merely reading a few of the "Sentences,"--or, in addition, a few
words of the "Absolution,"--and then, leaving his flock to find their
way to heaven as they might. The legitimate "Parish Clerk" would come
into his desk pretty early; then would come in the "Parson's Clerk;"
and, lastly, the parson would walk into his desk, and commence reading
after the following unique method:--
"When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath
committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his
soul alive.----William Middleton! I charge you to come out of that seat,
and let the clerk come in peaceably and quietly!"
The poor "Parish Clerk," meanwhile, would make no answer; but full
meekly, and in the spirit of his vocation, would hold his peace. Again
the parson would proceed:--
"Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry places
to----William Middleton! if you do not come out of that seat, and cease
interrupting me in my duty, I shall conclude the service!"
And then would he close the book,--the poor "Parish Clerk" answering not
a word,--and, walking to the communion-table, give a couple of parish
alms-loaves to such as he chose to call--usually _his own_ clerk, for
one,--and then,--and then,--in the spirit of Jewel and Latimer, and the
rest of the tireless and devoted exemplars of his religion, would he
quit the consecrated edifice, and leave the congregation to finish by
themselves,--or disperse, which of course they preferred to do, after
witnessing these apostolical exhibitions. One more relation of the
subtle and profound devices of the immortal and Perpetual Curate, ere we
come to an end.
Vexed, teased, troubled, and circumvented, as he was, it came to pass
that, in the plenitude of his mortified and yet haughty reflections, the
successor of purple prelates bethought him that it was not seemly for
the rebellious herdsmen, ploughmen, and other rustics of low degree,
wherewith he was surrounded, to walk daily over the "consecrated ground"
of the churchyard, in the ancient footpath. The more he thought of it
the more he shuddered at it; that a number of rude rebels, with their
heretical and sacrilegious feet, should tread daily on ground which had
been "consecrated" in the hallowed mists of dateless antiquity, by
mitred magnates, before whose uplifted crosier kings had lowered their
sceptres, and mailed barons trembled and turned pale. It was not to be
permitted: the magnanimous Perpetual Curate resolved to root out such
impious sacrilege from the face of the earth; and immediately fastened
up the gates of the said ancient footpath with strong locks and chains;
yea, planted goodly young trees in the line of road hitherto trodden by
unworthy and rebellious rustics. Nay, more, conceiving that even the
remembrance of every grandmother and great-grandfather of such a
stiff-necked generation should be obliterated, his high-minded Reverence
gave order that all the hillocks over the graves should be laid low, and
the whole churchyard be levelled!
But now the grand priest had reached a climax, in the judgment of his
parishioners; and now arose the mighty wrath of the people,--that
barrier which hath so often stood before proud priests,--yea, and will
so stand again,--seeming to bear on its front, "Thus far shall ye go,
and no further, and here shall your proud wills be stayed!" A
parishioner, whose purse was lined with a store of guineas to back his
resolution, avowed that the Perpetual Curate, if he caused to be touched
a single clod that covered the ashes of his, the parishioner's,
forefathers, should have his clerical cup sweetened with all the sugar
that could be purchased for him in a court of law; and, lo! the
successor of the prelates of Sidnacester rescinded his "order" for
levelling the quiet graves of the dead!
Nor long did the other late devices of his canonical wisdom stand. The
urchins of the parish contrived to slip slily over the churchyard wall,
and to break down the newly-planted trees; and, at length, one
parishioner, having conversed with Sir John Barleycorn at Gainsborough
market, and being strongly advised by that notable counsellor of courage
to set the proud parson at nought, and "break his bonds asunder," rushed
to the churchyard gates, as soon as he arrived at his native village,
and smiting at locks and chains, as if he had been Samson before Gaza,
burst his way valiantly through,--and, thereafter, did the sacrilegious
feet of every rebel rustic again press the path of their forefathers,
without let or impediment! Such are the sovereign achievements of the
magisterial "people," when engaged in the assertion of their
time-hallowed "rights!" What are the acts of emperors compared
therewith?
And now come we to the final "action" in this concaten_ation_ of
litig_ation_, one that gave constern_ation_ to the poor "parish clerk,"
be it understood. We have spoken of the "actions" at the first Kirton
Sessions; namely, the Perpetual Curate _versus_ the Female Ambuscaders,
and the Perpetual Curate _versus_ the Cudgellers in the dark: then spoke
we of the "action" at the next sessions, Clerk Spurr, the Parson's
Clerk, _v._ Clerk William Middleton, the son of Clerk Gervase, the
Parish Clerk: then of the _petit_ "action" before the Gainsborough
Justices--Ellis _v._ Skill: then of the greater "action" at
assize--Skill _v._ Ellis: then of the "action" before the Lincoln
magistrates for recovery of value for broken church-windows--the
Churchwardens of Stow _v._ the Parson's Clerk: lastly, of the
_threatened_ action by the parishioner of the long purse, which the
Perpetual Curate avoided by rescinding his presumptuous "order" for
levelling the graves:--but now come we to the final "action"--the action
of actions: that to which all the rest formed but a petty preface: that
wherein the Perpetual Curate departing from all by-ways of attack,
undisguisedly assumed a position of legal and spiritual antagonism
against the foe whom he esteemed as the chief author of his ills, the
disturber of his projected schemes, that would, so many months before,
have issued in subjugating the rebels, and consuming heresy in his
parish,--against the old, hereditary, gentle, moral, upright parish
clerk, Clerk William Middleton, the son of Clerk Gervase.
And _where_ was the action commenced?--Before the county
magistrates,--or at sessions,--or at assize? Pooh! nonsense!--that was
not the way to finish Middleton's business as the parson intended to
finish it. Where then? In the Queen's Bench, or the Common Pleas, or the
Exchequer? No. What then, in the Vice Chancellor's Court, or the Court
of Chancery itself? Not one of 'em, sir; but in a more awful court than
any of 'em, or all of 'em put together: in the SPIRITUAL COURT, sir!
What aged dame in Lindsey had not heard of the Spiritual Court? Why the
mere sound of the word served to fill her with mysterious awe, and to
call up in her memory all the fireside stories of her grandmothers: how
such awful "penances" were inflicted by this court, on erring females,
in _their_ days,--when the dread power of the priesthood was displayed
in punishing the subjects of that natural frailty called "scandal," by
compelling them to walk up the church aisle covered with a white sheet,
and bearing a wax taper in their hand! With such associations derived
from his grandmother, only conceive how awfully queer poor, moral,
gentle, religious, upright Clerk William felt when he received the
mysterious "writ," issued against him by this mysterious court.
"Schollard," as he was, it was so strange a thing to look upon, that he
instantly sent for the parish schoolmaster, who, with spectacles on
nose, and frequent spelling and some mispelling, read aloud--to a house
full of consternated neighbours,--Clerk William turning pale as he heard
the beginning,--
"IN THE NAME OF GOD, AMEN!
"We, John Haggard, Doctor in Civil and Canon Law, Vicar-General in
spirituals of the Right Reverend Father in God, John, by Divine
Permission, Lord Bishop of Lincoln, and official Principal of the
Episcopal and Consistorial Court of Lincoln, lawfully
constituted,--to you William Middleton, of the parish of Stow, &c.
&c., touching and concerning your soul's health, and the lawful
correction and reformation of your manners and excesses, and more
especially for profaning the parish church of Stow aforesaid, by
brawling, quarrelling, or chiding in the said parish church during
the celebration of divine service therein by the Rev. ----,
perpetual curate, &c. &c., and also for contumacious behaviour, and
refusing to obey the lawful commands of the said----," &c. &c.
And then followed a pompous quotation from a statute of Edward the
Sixth, showing that a clergyman had power to prohibit a contumacious
member of his flock _ab ingressu ecclesiae_,--that is to say, from
entering the church: in other words, to excommunicate him! Furthermore,
an act of the 53d George III. was quoted, declaring that "Persons who
may be pronounced or declared to be excommunicate by any ecclesiastical
court _in definitive sentences_, or _in interlocutory decrees_, having
the force and effect of definitive sentences, as spiritual censures for
offences of ecclesiastical cognisance, shall incur imprisonment not
exceeding six months, as the court pronouncing or decreeing such person
excommunicate shall direct."
That was a sore shake for poor Clerk William! Excommunicated! Why, the
thought of such a fate to one who had been brought up in a veneration of
the church, whose father was a clerk, and thought himself as fully
consecrated as a bishop!--it was no joke to such a one to hear there
was a chance of his being excommunicated. Yet he would not "give it up!"
No, that he wouldn't: his father had said, "Nobody could turn the parish
clerk out of his office so long as he had morality on his side: his
office was his freehold:" so his father, Clerk Gervase, of pious memory,
had said; and he, Clerk William, would abide by it. So he took the desk
on the following Sunday, and kept up the war as usual. Yet he often
pondered on "definitive sentences" and "interlocutory decrees,"--when he
had learnt the words by heart,--wondering what kind of awful things they
were.
The effect of issuing this writ, however, so completely astounded the
parishioners that they thenceforth only whispered where they had
shouted, and were silent where they had whispered, in all matters
relating to the parson: true, whenever a paper for convening any
particular parochial meeting was attached to the church door, bearing
the usual signature of ---- ----, Incumbent Minister, some wag would be
sure to scratch out one of the words, so as to make it read
"Incumbrance" Minister, instead: but beyond that there was, now, no
further daring.
And, at last, the summons came, and no less than a score of witnesses
were taken to the Consistory in Lincoln Cathedral, to be sworn that they
would give evidence on the case. And week by week--week by week--the
prosing "examinations" were proceeded with, on a certain day of the
week, until _a thousand folios_ of "examination" were counted; and when
a parishioner asked how much he must pay for a copy of the depositions
for Clerk William, the reckoning was made by the "registrar" of the
court, at the usual sum per folio--and he was told it would merely be
such a trifle as _five-and-twenty pounds_! And then the calculations,
and the wonders, and wishes that were expressed, night by night, and day
by day, in every cottage at Stow,--nay, in all the villages round, and
the wagers that were laid in every village ale-house on a Saturday
night, what would be the cost of the whole trial, and how long Clerk
William would be imprisoned, and _where_ they would imprison him,--for
nobody was so slow of heart or understanding, as not to know beforehand
that the "Vicar-General in Spirituals" would give judgment _against_ the
poor "parish clerk," as a matter of course, whenever the trial should
come to an end.
And _did_ the trial ever come to an end? and _was_ Clerk William
Middleton, the son of Clerk Gervase, really excommunicated? "By no
manner of means, sir," as the pompous fellow says in the play: the grand
suit, after causing so tremendous a quassation, and all that, of a
considerable quarter of Lindsey, was--given up! Yes, it was: and more
than that, the true "parish clerk," Clerk William, was reinstated, fully
and entirely, in his rightful office. Ay to this day,--unless our
information misleads us,--he exercises the same without losing an inch
of his height, or a fragment of his independent spirit; for it is but a
few months bygone since he showed it. The grand Perpetual Curate,
according to his wont, took upon him to reprehend, at the very
grave-side, a Wesleyan, whose child, then being interred, had been
baptized by a Wesleyan preacher: Clerk William, right bluntly, told the
priest that the Wesleyan had a right to please himself! "Why, as for
you, you will say or do any thing," retorted the priest, "if they'll pay
you for it!"--"And would you be standing there in that gown, with that
book in your hand, unless _you_ were paid for it?" asked and answered
Clerk William. The grand Perpetual Curate bit his lip, and walked away!
Reader, we have been relating _facts_: perhaps, in adopting the style of
half-rhodomontade, we have not displayed very good taste; but the
narrative itself contains uncontradictable _facts_. And these did not
occur in a district disturbed by chartism, nor revolutionised by
radicalism, or anti-corn-law agitation; but in the old-fashioned, rural
centre of Lindsey: it is even there where the "spiritual court" shrinks
from employing the foolery of its own worn-out terrors; and where the
peasant adventures to beard the priest! Are not these "Signs of the
Times?"