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 passed 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 Feckenham, 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 passed 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 entitled _Cupid's Pupils_, compiled from the personal
"recollections of a parish clerk who assisted 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.
[Illustration: 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 classes, 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
anticipating 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 pass
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 assuming
positions that knew them not, and some claiming talents they did not
possess. We will unmask a specimen of the latter class. 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 classics, 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
pricking 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 repetition 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 multitudes 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 asserts
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 class 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 brass 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,
God'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 incumbents.
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 assizes 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." Passive 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 Matthæi 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 Association for the
Advancement of Science, Literature, and Art_, 1904, xxxvi. 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:
"Many are the troubles of the Righteous
But the Lord delivereth out of all."
Langdon used to keep the registers, and he began to record in them a
series of notes on passing events which add greatly to the interest of
such volumes. Thus we find an account of a grievous fire at Tiverton in
1595, a violent storm at Barnstaple in 1606, and a great frost in the
same year; another fire at Tiverton in 1612, and the scraps of Latin
which appear show that he was a man of some education.
Anthony Baker reigned from 1625 to 1646, who had also been ordained
deacon prior to his appointment to Barnstaple, and belonged to an old
yeoman family. He was popular with the people, who presented him with a
new gown. He saw the suspension of his vicar by the Standing Committee,
and probably died of the plague in 1646, when the town found itself
without vicar, deacon, or clerk. The plague was raging, people dying,
and no one to minister to them. No clergyman would come save the old
vicar, Martyn Blake, who was at length allowed by the Puritan rulers to
return, to the great joy of the inhabitants. He appointed Symon Sloby
(1647-81), but could not get him ordained deacon, as bishops and
ordination were abhorred and abolished by the Puritan rulers. Sloby was
appointed "Register of Barnestapell" during the Commonwealth period. He
saw his vicar ejected and carried off to Exeter by some of the
Parliamentary troopers and subsequently restored to the living, and
records with much joy and loyalty the restoration of the monarchy. He
served three successive vicars, records many items of interest,
including certain gifts to himself with a pious wish for others to go
and do likewise, and died in a good old age.
Richard Sleeper succeeded him in 1682, and reigned till 1698. He
conformed to the more modern style of clerk of an important parish, a
dignified official who attended the vicar and performed his duties on
Sunday, occupying the clerk's desk. Of his successors history records
little save their names. William Bawden, a weaver, was clerk from 1708
to 1726, William Evans 1726 to 1741, John Taylor 1741 to 1760, John
Comer 1760 to 1786, John Shapcote 1786 to 1795, Joseph Kimpland 1795 to
1798, who was a member of an old Barnstaple family and was succeeded by
his son John (1798-1832), John Thorne (1832-1859), John Hartnoll
(1859-1883), and William Youings 1883 to 1901.
This is a remarkable record, and it would be well if in all parishes a
list of clerks, with as much information as the industrious inquirer can
collect, could be so satisfactorily drawn up and recorded, as Mr.
Chanter has so successfully done for Barnstaple. The quaint notes in the
registers written by the clerk give some sort of key to his character,
and the recollections of the oldest inhabitants might be set down who
can tell us something of the life and character of those who have lived
in more modern times. We sometimes record in our churches the names of
the bishops of the see, and of the incumbents of the parish; perhaps a
list of the humbler but no less faithful servants of the Church, the
parish clerks, might be added.
Often can we learn much from them of old-world manners, superstitions,
folk-lore, and the curious form of worship practised in the days of our
forefathers. My own clerk is a great authority on the lore of ancient
days, of bygone hard winters, of weather-lore, of the Russian war time,
and of the ways of the itinerant choir and orchestra, of which he was
the noted leader. Strange and curious carols did he and his sons and
friends sing for us on Christmas Eve, the words and music of which have
been handed down from father to son for several generations, and have
somewhat suffered in their course. His grandson still performs for us
the Christmas Mumming Play. The clerk is seventy years of age, and
succeeded his father some forty years ago. Save for "bad legs," the
curse of the rustic, he is still hale and hearty, and in spite of an
organ and surpliced choir, his powerful voice still sounds with a
resonant "Amen." Never does he miss a Sunday service.
We owe much to our faithful clerks. Let us revere their memories. They
are a most interesting race, and your "Amen clerk" is often more
celebrated and better known than the rector, vicar, patron or squire.
The irreverence, of which we have given many alarming instances, was
the irreverence of the times in which they lived, of the bad old days of
pluralist rectors and itinerant clerics, when the Church was asleep and
preparing to die with what dignity she could. We may not blame the
humble servitor for the faults and failings of his masters and for the
carelessness and depravity of his age. We cannot judge his homely ways
by the higher standard of ceremonial and worship to which we have become
accustomed. Charity shall hide from us his defects, while we continue to
admire the virtues, faithfulness and devotion to duty of the old parish
clerk, who retains a warm place in our hearts and is tenderly and
affectionately remembered by the elder generation of English
Churchpeople.