We talked with open heart, and tongue
Affectionate and true,
A pair of friends, though I was young,
And Matthew seventy-two.
* * * * *
And, ere we came to Leonard’s rock,
He sang those witty rhymes
About the crazy OLD CHURCH CLOCK,
And the bewildered chimes.
WORDSWORTH.
“I gradually established an acquaintance with this old Clock. It had
already proved itself a faithful friend—indeed the only one that I had
yet found in Manchester; for my mother’s distant relation was too much
involved in the all-absorbing pursuit of making money, to have any room
in his thoughts for the wishes and feelings of a poor country cousin like
myself. The Clock, however, had grown to be so intimate an acquaintance,
that I one day took advantage of a leisure hour to pay it a nearer visit;
and was very attentively looking up into its face from the foot of the
tower, in the space between it and the houses—which space was then
exceedingly narrow, (the houses are now happily taken down,) when my
shoulders were suddenly assailed by a very smart blow with a stick, from
some person from behind! I turned sharply round, as might be expected,
and saw a little active old man, dressed in a suit of rusty black, with a
hat somewhat of a clerical shape, and a pair of sharp grey eyes twinkling
under very long and very shaggy eye-brows, in the very act of raising his
cane for the purpose of repeating the salute. I immediately twisted the
offensive weapon out of his grasp, and seeing the reverend character of
the assailant, exclaimed, ‘_Nemo me impune_’—flourishing, at the same
time, the cane over his head, as if about to return the blow. Nothing
daunted with my threat, the little man stood his ground bravely; and
said, with a look of mingled fun and fury, ‘Who beat that bit of Latin
into your foolish head?’
“‘One,’ said I, ‘whose hand was quite as heavy as yours, though he did
not lay on half so hard as you do!’
“‘All the worse—all the worse. Had he struck harder then, you would have
needed it less now! But why do you stop up the way to church, and stand
gazing up to that tower, as if you were planning to rob the belfry?’
“‘I was thinking,’ said I, for I began to be more amused than angry with
the old man, ‘I was thinking, when your cane interrupted my meditations,
why it was that men placed clocks in the towers of churches!’
“‘That is easily answered, man; to teach you that time is a sacred
thing.’
“‘That is indeed an answer,’ I replied; ‘and one worthy of my old friend
Mr. Walker of Seathwaite!’
“‘Mr. Walker!’ exclaimed the old gentleman, in great surprise, ‘what
knowest thou of Mr. Walker? a very good man he is, and a very good
scholar—not of the University, though—but a good scholar, and an old
friend of mine; what knowest thou of him, man?’
“‘Know him! Why he is my old pastor and master—the best friend I have in
all the world! Oh, sir! If you know him, you must be a good man too!’
“‘Dont be too sure of that!’ said the old gentleman, somewhat pettishly;
‘there are two opinions on that subject, I promise you. Which of them
_I_ may entertain, is no concern of yours!’
“‘Well, sir, but I am sure if you are a friend of Mr. Walker’s, you will
do me one service for his sake—the greatest you ever did to a poor lad in
your life—you will tell me where I may go to church on Sundays.’
“‘His cane, which I had restored to him, dropped to the ground, and he
held up his hands in mute astonishment. ‘The lad’s lost his wits,’ he
said, as if to himself—‘_clean gyte_, as his old friend Robert Walker
would say! There he is, standing before a church door wide open to
receive him, and high enough for even his long legs to stride under, and
he coolly asks me where he may go to church on Sundays! Why, man,
_there_ you may go to church, not only on Sundays, but every day in the
week—and the oftener the better.’
“It was odd that this had never struck me before; but I had fancied, I
suppose from its size and beauty, that this was a church intended, like
those I had already tried, only for the accommodation of the rich; and I
said so to him whom I was addressing.
“The old gentleman smiled at my simplicity, but there was more expression
of kindness in his countenance than I had hitherto observed. ‘The
rich,’—said he, with a tone of contempt, ‘why, man, that is the PARISH
CHURCH, free to all alike, rich and poor, good and bad. The poor are by
far the greater number, and, between ourselves, rather the better behaved
and more attentive class, of the two. The rich take liberties with me
sometimes, which the poor _dare_ not—if they did, I would break every
bone in their skin! But,’ said he in a lower tone, ‘I dont think any of
them wish me much ill, after all.’
“Then, taking me by the hand, he said, ‘And so, my poor lad, you feared
to come into this church because you thought it was the church only of
the rich man! Come along with me, and I will soon provide you with a
sitting.’
“He dragged me with a rapid step through the church-door, and up the
middle aisle, till he came to a place which he doubtless knew to be at
that time unoccupied; and setting me down with great force in one corner
of a bench, he said, ‘There! sit there! That is your seat as long as you
occupy it punctually. If any one shall disturb you, say that old Rivers,
the Reverend Joseph Rivers, placed you there; and I should like to see
the man that dares disturb you after that!’ and he flourished his cane
with an emphasis which seemed to show that the consequences of so rash an
act would indeed be serious!
“Such, sir, was my introduction to the Parish Church, and such is the
favour—the inestimable blessing—which I owe to the Old Church Clock! How
often have I wished that the same blessing could be extended to the
multitudes of young men that pour annually from the country into this
great metropolis of manufactures and commerce, even if it were
accompanied with the sharp discipline of old Mr. Rivers’ cane, which I
experienced! Sir, thousands are lost—lost for ever—from the want which I
felt, and from which the Old Clock delivered me—want of church-room! It
gives them first the plea to spend the Sunday in idleness; and a Sunday
so spent is but a preface to one of vice and dissipation. Would that
there were a dozen Old Churches in this vast hive of human beings! Well,
sir, that seat I have occupied from that day to the present hour—full
five-and-forty years! They have been years of trial, and sometimes of
trouble to me; but I have always found my best consolation _there_.
During my days of toil and labour I was never absent from the Sunday
services; and now that a moderate competency and the advance of years
give me grounds for retirement from busy life, the daily services find me
a constant and delighted attendant. I find the daily temple worship the
best possible preparation for that service which I trust may soon be my
occupation in a higher sphere; the best soother of the passions; the
surest relief in sorrow. Within those walls I have escaped all those
anxieties which spring from religious doubts and differences, and have
said the same prayers, and listened to the same doctrines during the
lapse of half a century. The daily service flows on, in my ears, like my
native DUDDON—always the same, yet ever fresh and new. I have seen sects
rise and fall, and various forms of dissent flourish and decay; but they
have no more moved my mind than the fleeting lights and shadows, sunbeams
and storms, which pass successively over that venerable fabric, can
disturb its foundations, or even shake one pinnacle from its towers. In
those free sittings, so well thronged by pious worshippers, what changes
have I lived to behold! I have seen the grey head of many a faithful
soldier of CHRIST laid low, while its place in the ranks has instantly
been filled up by one as zealous and almost as grey as that which has
been removed. Nay, the shepherds of the flock have been smitten as well
as the sheep. I followed to the grave my old friend Mr. Joseph Rivers,
to whose blunt kindness, and friendship for my master Robert Walker, I
was so deeply indebted; and much was I gratified to see the flood of
tears that was shed by the poor over the old man’s grave! It was a proof
to me that men know how to value honesty and integrity, even though it be
clouded, as it sometimes is, by a hasty manner and a rough outside. And
I have followed to the grave one to whom I looked up with a feeling of
deeper reverence and gratitude—the pious Christian—the courteous
gentleman—the late venerable Head of our Church in this place. He was to
me not only a teacher, but, I may almost venture to say, a companion and
friend. How often have I hoped and prayed that he might be permitted to
out-strip me in length of days as far as he did in his Christian walk!
But it was not so ordained! Truly may I say of him, in the words of
Scripture, ‘That other disciple did out-run Peter,—and I came first to
the sepulchre!’”
The silent tears rolled down the old man’s cheek as he paused for a
moment to meditate on the tomb of his pastor.
“My tale,” he soon added, “is now at an end. It is probably, as I said,
but of little interest to any one but myself, and you who have so kindly
listened to it. Yet I shall not have told it to you in vain, if it lead
you to recollect that the poorest man you meet has his little history,
could he be induced to tell it; and his deep interest in the Church,
could he be led to think so. At all events,” he concluded, with a smile,
“you will not, I am sure, now blame me much, should you meet the Old Man
once more on the Victoria-bridge, on a Saturday night, and find him
setting his watch by—(even should it be a few minutes too slow)—THE OLD
CHURCH CLOCK.”
* * * * *
The End.
* * * * *
* * * * *
PRINTED BY CHARLES SIMMS AND CO., MANCHESTER.
FOOTNOTES.
{vii} It would be very interesting to trace the precise period when the
late culpable neglect of Church discipline (more especially in observing
the duty of daily prayer in churches) began to be generally prevalent.
It would seem to be soon after, and not before, the year 1720. The
author has now lying before him a daily journal kept by a collateral
ancestor, who was curate of Garstang Church-Town, an agricultural
district of this county, in the years 1723–4–5, from which it appears
that, even in that retired district, prayers were then said in the church
on all Wednesdays and Fridays, and all Saints’ days and Holydays
throughout the year. The labour of a curate then, (for the vicar was
non-resident,) was such as is seldom surpassed even by the often almost
intolerable toils of the present day. The following is a specimen of the
journal referred to:—
“APRIL, 1723.
“12. _Good Friday_. Read prayers, Mr. Hayward [the vicar] preached,
and we administered the sacrament to 236 communicants. After dinner
I went into Claughton [two miles off] to visit the sick.
“13. Mr. Hayward read prayers; I went into the parish, and
administered the sacrament at three private houses to sick and aged
people.
“14. _Easter Day_. I read prayers. Mr. Hayward preached; and we
administered the sacrament to 285 communicants. Afternoon: Mr.
Hayward read prayers, and I preached; and then went to visit a sick
child.”
The reader will be struck with the large attendance at the communion. We
have had sad fallings-off since the year 1723!
I cannot resist making one or two other extracts, showing the general
character of this curious little journal of the Rev. Thomas Parkinson:—
“FEBRUARY, 1722.
“1. Went to Street to visit Mrs. Salome, and administered the
sacrament to her. She is 103 years old, yet very perfect in memory,
sight, and hearing to admiration.
“APRIL, 1723.
“30. Studied hard yesterday in the afternoon and this morning, and
finished the 103rd sermon. At night I preached it for T. Raby, of
Tarnaker, at St. Michael’s. His son paid me 10s. Mr. Crombleholm,
the vicar there, came from London whilst I was there, who, in
conjunction with three more, had bought Rawcliff Demain and Tenants,
paying to the Board £11,260. It cost them near £1000 more in
hush-money, as they call it.
“OCTOBER, 1723.
“18. In the morning I went to visit William Grayston, who seemed
very penitent after an ill-spent life. I pray GOD forgive him.
“OCTOBER, 1723.
“28. In the morning I went to see W. Grayston, who had been
perverted by a Romish priest in his sickness, but, by the blessing of
GOD, I restored him to the Church, and administered the communion to
him after he had begged pardon. He gave me then £1. 18s. 6d. to
distribute, in way of restitution, to some he had unjustly injured.
“Nov. 2. Studied all the morning, and finished the 110th.
Afternoon: I went to see W. Grayston and old Mrs. Salome.”
P.S. I ought to add that the number of attendants at the communion,
above stated, was by no means unusual; for besides the communicants
being, on ordinary Sundays, at least one hundred, I find the following
entries in his next year’s Diary:—
“APRIL, 1724.
“3. _Good Friday_. I preached. Mr. Hayward, [who seems always to
have attended on these occasions,] read prayers, and consecrated. We
had a vast number of communicants, more than have been usually seen.
“4. Mr. Hayward read prayers. I went into the parish to visit sick
and impotent people; that is, such as cou’d not come to church.
“5. _Easter-day_. I preached in the forenoon. Mr. Hayward read
prayers, and consecrated. We had a great many communicants at those
three days of sacrament. [Palm Sunday was one.] At church we had
about 656 communicants, and I administered to about 60 impotent
people in the parish. I read prayers afternoon, and Mr. Hayward
preached.”
{xii} The following is Mr. Newton’s own account of the state of his late
parish in the hands of his successor, and that successor such a man as
Mr. Scott. The narrative is a melancholy one.
“I was very cordially received at Olney; the heats and animosities
which prevailed when I was there last, seemed in a great measure
subsided. There are, however, many who have left the Church, and
hear among the Dissenters; but I hope they have not left the LORD.
Mr. Scott has some, and some of the best, who are affectionately
attached to him. Mr. Scott is a good and upright man, and a good
preacher, but different ministers have different ways. He met with
great prejudices, and some very improper treatment, upon his first
coming to Olney. He found several professors who had more leaves
than fruit, more talk than grace; his spirit was rather hurt by what
he saw amiss, and by what he felt. By what I can learn from those
who love him best, he is very favourable and zealous in reproving
what is wrong; but an unfavourable impression he has received, that
the people at large do not like him, gives a sort of edge to his
preaching which is not so well suited to conciliate them. The best
of the Olney people are an afflicted people, and have been led
through great inward conflicts and spiritual distresses, and for want
of some experience of the like kind, he cannot so well hit their
cases,nor sympathize with them so tenderly as might be wished. He
has the best intentions, but his natural temper is rather positive,
than gentle and yielding. I was, perhaps, faulty in the other
extreme; but they had been so long used to me, that a different mode
of treatment does not so well suit them.”—_Southey’s Life of Cowper_,
vol. ii. p. 46.
Here the different success of the two consecutive incumbents is made to
turn entirely upon preaching, and that preaching entirely on difference
of _temper_. Would that they had both sought uniformity of preaching,
and of temper too, in their Prayer Book!
{xxxix} Mr. Walker’s charity being of that kind which “seeketh not her
own,” he would rather forego his rights than distrain for dues which the
parties liable refused to pay as a point of conscience.
{52} An “Old Man” is a heap of stones, of which many are erected on the
highest points of the loftiest mountains in the North of England.
{78} Pearls are or used to be found in the shell-fish in the river IRT,
on the west coast of Cumberland. It is much to be feared that there are
very few now left.
{85} There is a tradition that this is one of the families which claim
to wear a hat in the presence of Royalty.
{89} The Packington family.
{91} The history of Martha will remind some readers (though the facts
are very different) of that of Mary Robinson, commonly called “The Beauty
of Buttermere,” who was betrayed into a marriage by the notorious
Hadfield, under the feigned name of Colonel Hope. Hadfield was a man of
good birth and education, and was afterwards hanged for forgery. Mary
died not long since, the mother of a large family, in a good old age, a
subject of notoriety and curiosity to her dying day. Yet Robert Walker
loved his dead Martha _quite_ as much as his living Mary!