THE DUTIES OF READING AND SINGING
The clerk's highest privilege in pre-Reformation times was to take his
part in the great services of the church. His functions were very
important, and required considerable learning and skill. When the songs
of praise echoed through the vaulted aisles of the great church, his
voice was heard loud and clear leading the choirmen and chanting the
opening words of the Psalm. As early as the time of St. Gregory this
duty was required of him. In giving directions to St. Augustine of
Canterbury the Pope ordered that clerks should be diligent in singing
the Psalms. In the ninth century Pope Leo IV directed that the clerks
should read the Psalms in divine service, and in 878 Archbishop Hincmar
of Rheims issued some articles of inquiry to his Rural Deans, asking,
among other questions, "Whether the presbyter has a clerk who can keep
school, or read the epistle, or is able to sing as far as may seem
needful to him?"
A canon of the Council of Nantes, embodied in the Decretals of Pope
Gregory IX, settled definitely that every presbyter who has charge of a
parish should have a clerk, who should sing with him and read the
epistle and lesson, and who should be able to keep school and admonish
the parishioners to send their children to church to learn the
faith[35]. This ordinance was binding upon the Church in this country as
in other parts of Western Christendom, and William Lyndewoode, Official
Principal of the Archbishop of Canterbury, when laying down the law with
regard to the marriage of clerks, states that the clerk has "to wait on
the priest at the altar, to sing with him, and to read the epistle." A
notable quarrel between two clerks, which is recorded by John of Athon
writing in the years 1333-1348, gives much information upon various
points of ecclesiastical usage and custom. The account says:
[Footnote 35: Decr. Greg. IX. Lib. III. tit. i. cap. iii., quoted by Dr.
Cuthbert Atchley in _Alcuin Club Tracts_, IV.]
"Lately, when two clerks were contending about the carrying of holy
water, the clerk appointed by the parishioners against the command of
the priest, wrenched the book from the hands of the clerk who had been
appointed by the rector, and who had been ordered to read the epistle by
the priest, and hurled him violently to the ground, drawing blood[36]."
[Footnote 36: John of Athon, _Constit. Dom. Othoboni_, tit. _De
residentia archipreb. et episc._: cap. _Pastor bonus_: verb _sanctæ
obedientiæ_.]
A very unseemly disturbance truly! Two clerks righting for the book in
the midst of the sanctuary during the Eucharistic service! Still their
quarrel teaches us something about the appointment and election of
clerks in the Middle Ages, and of the duty of the parish clerk with
regard to the reading of the epistle.
In 1411 the vicar of Elmstead was enjoined by Clifford, Bishop of
London, to find a clerk to help him at private Masses on weekdays, and
on holy days to read the epistle.
In the rules laid down for the guidance of clerks at the various
churches we find many references to the duties of reading and singing.
At Coventry he is required to sing in the choir at the Mass, and to sing
Evensong on the south side of the choir; on feast days the first clerk
was ordered to be _rector chori_ on the south side, while his fellow
performed a like duty on the north side. On every Sunday and holy day
the latter had to read the epistle. At Faversham the clerk was required
to sing at every Mass by note the Grail at the upper desk in the body of
the choir, and also the epistle, and to be diligent to sing all the
office of the Mass by note, and at all other services. Very careful
instructions were laid down for the proper musical arrangements in this
church. The clerk was ordered "to set the choir not after his own brest
(= voice) but as every man being a singer may sing conveniently his
part, and when plain song faileth one of the clerks shall leave
faburdon[37] and keep plain song unto the time the choir be set again."
A fine of 2 d. was levied on all clerks as well as priests at St.
Michael's, Cornhill, who should be absent from the church, and not take
their places in the choir in their surplices, singing there from the
beginning of Matins, Mass and Evensong unto the end of the services. At
St. Nicholas, Bristol, the clerk was ordered "to sing in reading the
epistle daily under pain of ii d."
[Footnote 37: _Faburdon_ = faux-bourdon, a simple kind of counterpoint
to the church plain song-, much used in England in the fifteenth
century. Grove's _Dictionary of Music_.]
These various rules and regulations, drawn up with consummate care,
together with the occasional glimpses of the mediæval clerk and his
duties, which old writers afford, enable us to picture to ourselves what
kind of person he was, and to see him engaged in his manifold
occupations within the same walls which we know so well. When the
daylight is dying, musing within the dim mysterious aisle, we can see
him folding up the vestments, bearing the books into their place of safe
keeping in the vestry, singing softly to himself:
"_Et introibo ad altare Dei; ad Deum qui loetificat
juventutem meam_."
The scene changes. The days of sweeping reform set in. The Church of
England regained her ancient independence and was delivered from a
foreign yoke. Her children obtained an open Bible, and a liturgy in
their own mother-tongue. But she was distressed and despoiled by the
rapacity of the commissioners of the Crown, by such wretches as
Protector Somerset, Dudley and the rest, private peculation eclipsing
the greediness of royal officials. Froude draws a sad picture of the
halls of country houses hung with altar cloths, tables and beds quilted
with copes, and knights and squires drinking their claret out of
chalices and watering their horses in marble coffins. No wonder there
was discontent among the people. No wonder they disliked the despoiling
of their heritage for the enrichment of the Dudleys and the _nouveaux
riches_ who fattened on the spoils of the monasteries, and left the
church bare of brass and ornament, chalice and vestment, the
accumulation of years of the pious offerings of the faithful. No wonder
there were risings and riots, quelled only by the stern and powerful
hand of a Tudor despot.
But in spite of all the changes that were wrought in that tumultuous
time, the parish clerk remained, and continued to discharge many of the
functions which had fallen to his lot before the Reformation had begun.
As I have already stated, his duties with regard to bearing holy water
and the holy loaf were discontinued, although the collecting of money
from the parishioners was conducted in much the same way as before, and
the "holy loaf" corrupted into various forms--such as "holy looff,"
"holie loffe," "holy cake," etc.--appears in churchwardens' account
books as late as the beginning of the seventeenth century.
As regards his main duties of reading and singing we find that they were
by no means discontinued. From a study of the First Prayer Book of
Edward VI, it is evident that his voice was still to be heard reading in
reverent tones the sacred words of Holy Scripture, and chanting the
Psalms in his mother-tongue instead of in that of the Vulgate. The
rubric in the communion service immediately before the epistle directs
that "the collectes ended, the priest, or he that is appointed, shall
read the epistle, in a place assigned for the purpose." Who is the
person signified by the phrase "he that is appointed"? That question is
decided for us by _The Clerk's Book_ recently edited by Dr. J. Wickham
Legg, wherein it is stated that "the priest or clerk" shall read the
epistle. The injunctions of 1547 interpret for us the meaning of "the
place assigned for the purpose" as being "the pulpit or such convenient
place as people may hear." Ability to read the epistle was still
therefore considered part of the functions of a parish clerk, and the
whole lesson derived from a study of _The Clerk's Book_ is the very
important part which he took in the services. As the title of the book
shows, it contains "All that appertein to the clerkes to say or syng at
the Ministracion of the Communion, and when there is no Communion. At
Confirmacion. At Matrimonie. The Visitacion of the Sicke. The Buriall of
the Dedde. At the Purification of Women. And the first daie of Lent."
He began the service of Holy Communion by singing the Psalm appointed
for the introit. In the book only the first words of the part taken by
the priest are given, whereas all the clerk's part is printed in full.
He leads the responses in the Lesser Litany, the _Gloria in excelsis_,
the Nicene Creed. He reads the offertory sentences and says the _Ter
Sanctus_, sings or says the _Agnus Dei_, besides the responses. In the
Marriage Service he said or sang the Psalm with the priest, and
responded diligently. As in pre-Reformation times he accompanied the
priest in the visitation of the sick, and besides making the responses
sang the anthems, "Remember not, Lord, our iniquities," etc., and "O
Saviour of the world, save us, which by thy crosse and precious blood
hast redeemed us, help us, we beseech thee, O God." In the Communion of
the Sick the epistle is written out in full, showing that it was the
clerk's privilege to read it. A great part of the service for the Burial
of the Dead was ordered to be said or sung by the "priest or clerk," and
"at the communion when there was a burial" he apparently sang the
introit and read the epistle. In the Communion Service the clerk with
the priest said the fifty-first Psalm and the anthem, "Turn thou us, O
good Lord," etc. In Matins and Evensong the clerk sang the Psalms and
canticles and made responses, and from other sources we gather that he
used to read either one or both of the lessons. In some churches he was
called the dekyn or deacon, and at Ludlow, in 1551, he received 3 s. 4
d. for reading the first lesson.
In the accounts of St. Margaret's, Westminster, there is an item in the
year 1553 for the repair of the pulpit where, it is stated, "the curate
and the clark did read the chapters at service time."
Archbishop Grindal, in 1571, laid down the following injunction for his
province of York: "That no parish clerk be appointed against the
goodwill or without the consent of the parson, vicar, or curate of any
parish, and that he be obedient to the parson, vicar, and curate,
specially in the time of celebration of divine service or of sacraments,
or in any preparation thereunto; and that he be able also to read the
first lesson, the Epistle, and the Psalms, with answers to the suffrages
as is used, and also that he endeavour himself to teach young children
to read, if he be able so to do." When this archbishop was translated to
Canterbury he issued very similar injunctions in the southern province.
Other bishops followed his example, and issued questions in their
dioceses relating to clerkly duties, and these injunctions show that to
read the first lesson and the epistle and to sing the Psalms constituted
the principal functions of a parish clerk.
Evidences of the continuance of this practice are not wanting[38].
Indeed, within the memory of living men at one church at least the
custom was observed. At Keighley, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, some
thirty or forty years ago the parish clerk wore a black gown and bands.
He read the first lesson and the epistle. To read the latter he left his
seat below the pulpit and went up to the altar and took down the book:
after reading the epistle within the altar rails he replaced the book
and returned to his place. At Wimborne Minster the clerk used to read
the Lessons.
[Footnote 38: cf. _The Parish Clerk's Book_, edited by Dr. J. Wickham
Legg, F.S.A., and _The Parish Clerk and his right to read the Liturgical
Epistle_, by Cuthbert Atchley, L.R.C.P., M.R.C.S. _(Alcuin Club
Tracts_, IV).]
Although it is evident that at the present time the clerk has a right to
read the epistle and one of the lessons, as well as the Psalms and
responses when they are not sung, it was perhaps necessary that his
efforts in this direction should have been curtailed. When we remember
the extraordinary blunders made by many holders of the office in the
last century, their lack of education, and strange pronunciation, we
should hardly care to hear the mutilation of Holy Scripture which must
have followed the continuance of the practice. Would it not be possible
to find men qualified to hold the office of parish clerk by education
and powers of elocution who could revive the ancient practice with
advantage to the church both to the clergyman and the people?
Complaints about the eccentricities and defective reading and singing of
clerks have come down to us from Jacobean times. There was one Thomas
Milborne, clerk of Eastham, who was guilty of several enormities;
amongst others, "for that he singeth the psalms in the church with such
a jesticulous tone and altisonant voice, viz: squeaking like a gelded
pig, which doth not only interrupt the other voices, but is altogether
dissonant and disagreeing unto any musical harmony, and he hath been
requested by the minister to leave it, but he doth obstinately persist
and continue therein." Verily Master Milborne must have been a sore
trial to his vicar, almost as great as the clerk of Buxted, Sussex, was
to his rector, who records in the parish register with a sigh of relief
his death, "whose melody warbled forth as if he had been thumped on the
back with a stone."
The Puritan regime was not conducive to this improvement of the status
or education of the clerk or the cultivation of his musical abilities.
The Protectorate was a period of musical darkness. The organs of the
cathedrals and colleges were taken down; the choirs were dispersed,
musical publications ceased, and the gradual twilight of the art, which
commenced with the accession of the Stuarts, faded into darkness. Many
clerks, especially in the City of London, deserve the highest honour for
having endeavoured to preserve the true taste for musical services in a
dark age. Notable amongst these was John Playford, clerk of the Temple
Church in 1652. Benjamin Payne, clerk of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in
1685, the author of _The Parish Clerk's Guide_, wrote of Playford as
"one to whose memory all parish clerks owe perpetual thanks for their
furtherance in the knowledge of psalmody." The _History of Music_, by
Hawkins, describes him as "an honest and friendly man, a good judge of
music, with some skill in composition. He contributed not a little to
the art of printing music from letterpress types. He is looked upon as
the father of modern psalmody, and it does not appear that the practice
has much improved." The account which Playford gives of the clerks of
his day is not very satisfactory, and their sorry condition is
attributed to "the late wars" and the confusion of the times. He says:
"In and about this great city, in above a hundred parishes there are but
few parish clerks to be found that have either ear or understanding to
set one of these tunes musically, as it ought to be, it having been a
custom during the late wars, and since, to chuse men into such places
more for their poverty than skill and ability, whereby that part of
God's service hath been so ridiculously performed in most places, that
it is now brought into scorn and derision by many people." He goes on to
tell us that "the ancient practice of singing the psalms in church was
for the clerk to repeat each line, probably because, at the first
introduction of psalms into our service great numbers of the common
people were unable to read." The author of _The Parish Clerk's Guide_
states that "since faction prevailed in the Church, and troubles in the
State, Church music has laboured under inevitable prejudices, more
especially by its being decried by some misguided and peevish sectaries
as popery and anti-Christ, and so the minds of the common people are
alienated from Church music, although performed by men of the greatest
skill and judgment, under whom was wont to be trained up abundance of
youth in the respective cathedrals, that did stock the whole kingdom at
one time with good and able songsters." The Company of Parish Clerks of
London [to the history and records of which we shall have occasion
frequently to refer] did good service in promoting the musical training
of the members and in upholding the dignity of their important office.
In the edition of _The Parish Clerk's Guide_ for 1731, the writer
laments over the diminished status of his order, and states that "the
clerk is oftentimes chosen rather for his poverty, to prevent a charge
to the parish, than either for his virtue or skill; or else for some
by-end or purpose, more than for the immediate Honour and Service of
Almighty God and His Church."
If that was the case in rich and populous London parishes, how much more
was it true in poor village churches? Hence arose the race of country
clerks who stumbled over and miscalled the hard words as they occurred
in the Psalms, who sang in a strange and weird fashion, and brought
discredit on their office. Indeed, the clergy were not always above
suspicion in the matter of reading, and even now they have their
detractors, who assert that it is often impossible to hear what they
say, that they read in a strained unnatural voice, and are generally
unintelligible. At any rate, modern clergy are not so deficient in
education as they were in the early years of Queen Elizabeth, when, as
Fuller states in his _Triple Reconciler_, they were commanded "to read
the chapters over once or twice by themselves that so they might be the
better enabled to read them distinctly to the congregation." If the
clergy were not infallible in the matter of the pronunciation of
difficult words, it is not surprising that the clerk often puzzled or
amused his hearers, and mangled or skipped the proper names, after the
fashion of the mistress of a dame-school, who was wont to say when a
small pupil paused at such a name as Nebuchadnezzar, "That's a bad word,
child! go on to the next verse."
Of the mistakes in the clerk's reading of the Psalms there are many
instances. David Diggs, the hero of J. Hewett's _Parish Clerk_, was
remonstrated with for reading the proper names in Psalm lxxxiii. 6,
"Odommities, Osmallities, and Mobbities," and replied: "Yes, no doubt,
but that's noigh enow. Seatown folk understand oi very well."
He is also reported to have said, "Jeball, Amon, and Almanac, three
Philistines with them that are tired." The vicar endeavoured to teach
him the correct mode of pronunciation of difficult words, and for some
weeks he read well, and then returned to his former method of making a
shot at the proper names.
On being expostulated with he coolly replied:
"One on us must read better than t'other, or there wouldn't be no
difference 'twixt parson and clerk; so I gives in to you. Besides, this
sort of reading as you taught me would not do here. The p'rishioners
told oi, if oi didn't gi' in and read in th' old style loike, as they
wouldn't come to hear oi, so oi dropped it!"
An old clerk at Hartlepool, who had been a sailor, used to render Psalm
civ. 26, as "There go the ships and there is that lieutenant whom Thou
hast made to take his pastime therein."
"Leviathan" has been responsible for many errors. A shoemaker clerk used
to call it "that great leather-thing." From various sources comes to me
the story, to which I have already referred, of the transformation of
"an alien to my mother's children" into "a lion to my mother's
children."
A clerk at Bletchley always called caterpillars _saterpillars_, and in
Psalm lxviii. never read JAH, but spelt it J-A-H. He used to summon the
children from their places to stand in single file along the pews during
three Sundays in Lent, and say, "Children, say your catechayse."
Catechising during the service seems to have been not uncommon. The
clerk at Milverton used to summon the children, calling out, "Children,
catechise, pray draw near."
The clerk at Sidbury used to read, "Better than a bullock that has horns
_enough_"; his name was Timothy Karslake, commonly called "Tim," and
when he made a mistake in the responses some one in the church would
call out, "You be wrong, Tim."
Sometimes a little emphasis on the wrong word was used to express the
feelings engendered by private piques and quarrels. There were in one
parish some differences between the parson and the clerk, who showed his
independence and proud spirit when he read the verse of the Psalm, "If I
_be_ hungry, I will not tell _thee_," casting a rather scornful glance
at the parson.
Another specimen of his class used to read "Ananias, Azarias, and
Mizzle," and one who was reading a lesson in church (Isaiah liv. 12),
"And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles,"
rendered the verse, "Thy window of a gate, and thy gates of
crab ancles."
Another clerk who was "not much of a scholard" used to allow no
difficulty to check his fluency. If the right word did not fall to his
hand he made shift with another of somewhat similar sound, the result
frequently taxing to the uttermost the self-control of the better
educated among his hearers. He was ill-mated to a shrewish wife, and one
was sensible of a thrill of sympathy when, without a thought of
irreverence, and in all simplicity, he rolled out, instead of "Woe is
me, that I am constrained to dwell with Mesech!" "Woe is me, that I am
constrained to dwell with _Missis_!"
Old age at length puts an end to the power of the most stalwart clerks.
That must have been a very pathetic scene in the church at East Barnet
which few of those present could have witnessed without emotion. The
clerk was a man of advanced age. He always conducted the singing, which
must have been somewhat monotonous, as the 95th and the 100th Psalm (Old
Version) were invariably sung. On one occasion, after several vain
attempts to begin the accustomed melody, the poor old man exclaimed,
"Well, my friends, it's no use. I'm too old. I can't sing any more."
[Illustration: OLD BECKENHAM CHURCH]
It was a bitter day for the old clerks when harmoniums and organs came
into fashion, and the old orchestras conducted by them were abandoned.
Dethroned monarchs could not feel more distressed.
The period of the decline and fall of the status of the old parish
clerks was that of the Commonwealth, from 1640 to 1660. During the
spacious days of Elizabeth and the early Stuarts they were considered
most important officials. In pre-Reformation times the incumbents used
to receive assistance from the chantry priests who were required to help
the parson when not engaged in their particular duties. After the
suppression of the chantries they continued their good offices and acted
as assistant curates. But the race soon died out. Then lecturers and
special preachers were frequently appointed by corporations or rich
private individuals. But these lecturers and preachers were a somewhat
independent race who were not very loyal to the parsons and impatient of
episcopal control, and proved themselves rather a hindrance than a help.
In North Devon[39] and doubtless in many other places the experiment was
tried of making use of the parish clerks and raising them to the
diaconate. Such a clerk so raised to major orders was Robert Langdon
(1584-1625), of Barnstaple, to whose history I shall have occasion to
refer again. His successor, Anthony Baker, was also a clerk-deacon. The
parish clerk then attained the zenith of his power, dignity, and
importance.
[Footnote 39: _The Parish Clerks of Barnstaple_, 1500-1900, by Rev. J.F.
Chanter (Transactions of the Devonshire Association).]
After the disastrous period of the Commonwealth rule he emerges shorn
of his learning, his rank, and status. His name remained; his office was
recognised by legal enactments and ecclesiastical usage; but in most
parishes he was chosen on account of his poverty rather than for his
fitness for the post. So long as the church rates remained he received
his salary, but when these were abolished it was found difficult in many
parishes to provide the funds. Hence as the old race died out, the
office was allowed to lapse, and the old clerk's place knows him no
more. Possibly it may be the delectable task of some future historian to
record the complete revival of the office, which would prove under
proper conditions an immense advantage to the Church and a valuable
assistance to the parochial clergy.