frequented by stenographers, but more it is to be feared for practice in
shorthand than for perfection in piety. The first ambition of the boy who
is learning shorthand is to "report" a sermon by the preacher whose
ministry he attends. Mr. Thomas Allen Reed has given an amusing account of
his first exploit in this direction, when he was still struggling with the
early difficulties of the system he soon after abandoned for phonography.
He says, "I did not, however, relinquish my practice, and in a few weeks I
resolved on making a grand attempt to take down the Sunday sermon. I rose
early in the morning with the sense of a weighty responsibility resting
upon me. I sharpened my pencil with the gravity of a senator, and folded
several sheets of paper together, in the profound conviction that I was
undertaking a serious, if not a formidable, duty. I did my best to conceal
my emotions, but my heart was beating all the way to the church. As to the
preliminary service, I understood as little of it as if it had been read
in Cherokee. I stood when I ought to have knelt, and knelt when I should
have sat or stood, and demeaned myself like a youth whose religious
education had been sadly neglected. At length the clergyman entered the
pulpit, and I took my sheets of paper from the Bible in which I had
concealed them, and my pencil from my pocket. If I did not feel like
Bonaparte's soldiers, that the eyes of posterity were upon me, I devoutly
believed that every eye in the church was directed to my note book. The
colour mounted my cheeks (as it very often did at that period of my life,)
and my whole frame trembled. I had a strong impulse to abandon my project,
but I summoned all my energy to the task, and awaited the commencement of
the sermon. 'The 12th chapter of Isaiah and the 3rd verse,' said the
minister in solemn tones. This presented no great difficulty. I am sorry
to say that, stenographically speaking, I burked Isaiah, and contented
myself with the long-hand abbreviation, Is., and as to the text itself, I
thought the first three words would suffice. And now for the sermon. 'The
remarkable words, my brethren, of this important prophecy.' Laboriously I
followed the deliberate utterances of the speaker, but when I reached the
prophecy I floundered about in a maze of dire confusion. I thought it
began with ph, and I accordingly started as I had been instructed, with
the stenographic equivalent, f, but, finding that this would not do, I
crossed it out. Then I tried p, r, and getting a good deal confused,
plunged madly into the alphabet, the result being a combination of
characters altogether beyond description. But where was the preacher?
Away in the distance, almost out of sight and hearing. I was fairly
beaten, but not quite disheartened. When another sentence was begun I made
a fresh start, this time I was pulled up by the word 'synonymous,' I knew
there were some n's and m's in it, but not how many. I must have written
three or four of each, and while I was jerking out these segments of
circles (their forms were the same as in Phonography,) the clergyman was
remorselessly pursuing the intricacies of a long sentence, which I was
compelled wholly to abandon. I made several other efforts with the like
result. At length I secured an entire sentence of about twenty words, and
felt very proud of the achievement. Some half-dozen such sentences
rewarded my labour during the sermon. How I racked my brain in the
afternoon in poring over these fragments! My memory (not then a bad one)
was utterly useless. I had not the slightest conception of the drift of
the sermon, but I was determined to make some kind of a transcript, and it
was made. I presented it to my mother as my first attempt, and I believe
she kept it carefully locked up in a drawer among her treasures. It was
fortunate for my reputation that it never afterwards saw the light."
(Leaves from the Notebook of Thomas Allen Reed, vol. 1, p. 12; vol. 2, p.
24).
The professional reporting of sermons is now an important department of
the stenographer's work. The late Mr. Spurgeon's sermons were thus
reported by Mr. Reed. Dr. Cumming had his own reporter, as had Beecher,
and as Talmage and others have. Dr. Joseph Parker's discourses were
"specially reported" by his wife. It is to the phonographic skill of a
lady that we owe the preservation of many of the lectures, sermons, and
prayers of the late George Dawson. The sermons of the Rev. Thomas T. Lynch
were also reported by Mr. Reed. Yet the preacher had a strong dislike to
his discourses being reported and printed, "especially without his
revision." There, no doubt, is the rub. Dr. Morley Punshon had a strong
dislike to be reported, and some letters that passed between him and Mr.
Reed are given in the _Phonetic Journal_, July 30th, 1881. His objections
were that the reporter was sometimes inaccurate, and that the preacher
alone had a right to decide whether he would or would not address the
larger congregation to be reached by the press. And he urged very strongly
that the arguments used by Macaulay as to the unauthorised publication of
his speeches were equally applicable to the case of sermons. It is still a
rather doubtful point whether sermons are covered by the law of copyright,
and many single sermons and even volumes have been published without the
sanction, and sometimes against the wishes, of the preachers. But as it
has been held by the law courts that a professor's lectures cannot be
legally published without his consent, it is possible that some day a
preacher may arise who will test the question and ask the judges to say if
the pulpit is as much protected as the teacher's desk. The late Bishop
Fraser is said to have jocularly declared that there was no heresy that
had not been attributed to him by the slips of note-takers and condensers.
Shorthand has been extensively used for the MS. of preachers, as by Dr.
Chalmers, Job Orton, and a host of other preachers,--so many, indeed, that
to deal with stenography in the pulpit would need a larger space than is
here available.
Perhaps the most original use of shorthand in church was that due to the
conscientiousness and business instincts of the late Rt. Hon. W. H. Smith.
Ecclesiastical patronage he felt to be a great responsibility. When there
was a minister to be appointed he sought the best information as to those
who were recommended to him as suitable. Sometimes he corresponded with
friends likely to know; "at other times he used to send his confidential
shorthand writer to attend the services of clergymen who might be suitable
for the vacancy, and bring him verbatim reports of the sermons, with
confidential memoranda of their appearance, views, abilities, and other
details. It was only after carefully examining this information that he
would proceed to make the appointment."
Those clergymen who owed their promotion to the testimonials thus obtained
might say with Job Orton's pious fervour, "Blessed be God for shorthand."
Reminiscences of our Village Church.
BY THE REV. CANON BENHAM, B.D., F.S.A.
I propose in the following notes to write my recollections of a village
church. They extend over nearly sixty years, and will, no doubt, describe
a growth and change which might have been observed in a thousand English
churches.
But first, let me say a few words of this church before my recollection of
it; not long before, for I am indebted to my mother's reminiscences for
the few trifles with which I open. It was a heavy looking edifice, not
attractive to the eye as compared with the "storied windows, richly
dight," which mark the churches of the beautiful Gothic revival of our own
times. This was a plain building, flint, with queer old stone facings, a
heavy tower, "churchwarden" windows with diamond panes, with not an atom
of beautiful tracery from one end to the other.
And yet that church, if you had been taught how to look for it, contained
features of the deepest interest to an antiquary. Within, were heavy
Norman pillars between nave and aisles, and a round-headed flattened
chancel arch, unmistakably Saxon. For that church was built by S. Wilfred
of York in the 8th century, and built so substantially, that there it was
in the 19th century, sturdy and strong, though successive generations had
bepewed it and begalleried it, and put in square ugly windows, and a
three-decker, in fact, had used their utmost endeavours to disfigure it.
They could not destroy the simple Norman capitals, but they had
whitewashed them, and had written up, with the best intentions, texts on
the walls, in which my youthful eyes discovered two or three blunders in
spelling. It is no wonder that the old Rector, who liked to see everything
graceful and artistic, but who had never learned the principles of
Architecture scientifically, failed to appreciate S. Wilfred's ancient
work, and yearned to see something more graceful in its place. But of that
presently. Let me go back for eighty years. The incumbent in those days
was an old foxhunter, very fat and of enormous appetite. One day he came
in from a long run across country. "Wilthon," said he (he used to lisp)
"What ith there for my dinner?" "A goose, sir," said Wilson. "Bring him
up, Wilthon, I'll goothe him." And he finished the goose and picked every
bone clean. A well-known politician, who died only recently, was born in
the village, and the old rector was called on to baptize him. "Name thith
child," said he, and the answer was duly given, "James Edwin Thorold." The
rector stared, for such exuberance of nomenclature was very uncommon in
those days. "What?" he said in amazement. The name was repeated. "Bleth my
thoul, what a lot of nameth," said he, "thay it onthe more." The name was
said a third time, and the baby was duly christened. A lady who witnessed
this, and who still lives, told me of this. She was twelve years old. My
grandfather, in those days, was leader of the choir. They sat in a
gallery, and had a fiddler and a trombone to accompany them. The trial of
Queen Caroline, in 1820, raised the passions of the whole country to fever
heat, and the rustics, for the most part, took the queen's side. When the
news came down, that Government had abandoned the "bill of pains and
penalties" for depriving her of the title of queen, there were processions
through the street, and every window that did not display a candle, by way
of illumination, got a stone through it. On the following Sunday my
grandfather gave out the Psalm, which of course was Tate and Brady's,
"35th Psalm, 11th and three following verses, _False witnesses with forged
complaints_." It was sung with tremendous energy, and the old rector was
furious, not unreasonably, and sent the whole choir to Coventry for some
time. He used to put on his surplice in the chancel, before the people,
and exchange it in the reading desk for the black gown, and used to preach
one sermon on Sundays. He died about 1826, and was succeeded by one who
was a brilliant scholar, a canon of a northern Cathedral, and a man who
according to his lights was zealous for the decencies of worship. Thus he
built a vestry, put the clerk into a black gown, and started a verger with
a long coat and red collar, knee breeches, and a long staff of office, who
always preceded him to the reading desk. I am now come within the sphere
of my own recollections. This old rector lived until 1844, and my early
ideas of the proprieties of the church service were all drawn from him.
For he had a reason for everything, and expressed it pleasantly, and he
was very kind to me personally. Is it any wonder that for many a year I
tried all questions of ritual--I am not sure that I have ceased even
now--with "What would Doctor B. have thought about this?" He never
preached one sermon in the church during his whole incumbency. I
understood that it was the danger of a sudden failure of voice, to which
he was subject, that prevented him. Anyhow that was the fact. But he
established afternoon sermons, and his curate always preached them. He
himself used regularly to say the Prayers, and never since his day have I
ever heard anybody read the lessons so well as he did. I never hear the
first chapter of the Hebrews without recalling the magnificent roll of his
voice, as he brought out of it the points of the opening argument. He was
keen upon chanting, and vocal music, and we always sang the Canticles, and
the metrical Psalms--as I think very well--and a few Sanctuses. The only
case of chanting the Prayer Book Psalms was certainly curious. He had
heard in Westminster Abbey, the 137th Psalm, "By the waters of Babylon,"
sung to a chant which much delighted him, and on the 28th day of the
month, when that Psalm occurs, we chanted it to the music referred to. All
the other Psalms were read.
We used to be told at school that on Sundays we got a taste of Heaven, for
we went to church and sang God's praises. I do not quarrel with the
teaching even now, I think there is something in it. But I used to think,
in those tender pinafore years, that in Heaven there would be one
improvement, namely, that we should not stand on cold damp stones and feel
half perished. There were forms running up the centre of the church, the
whole length of it, on the cold bricks, no arrangement at all for
kneeling, and on these forms we sat during lessons, prayers, sermon; and
many a cold in the head did I catch. The best singers among the boys, of
whom I was not one, went into the gallery. The old Rector established a
school in the village, and we learned the Tonic Sol-Fah, and the singing
was said to be the best for miles round. I think it was in 1842, two years
before his death, that the fiddles and clarionettes were disestablished,
and the music was entirely vocal.
There was one feature of his incumbency which I must not forget, I mean
his church catechising. It had always been a favourite doctrine of his,
that catechising in church should be a feature of church work, and every
Sunday afternoon in Lent, the boys were marshalled round the reading desk
and catechised. Perhaps rather unfortunately, he had a keen sense of fun,
and occasionally a bit of humour in his questions, or his comments, set
the congregation in a titter. But there was no question that those who
listened picked up a great amount of Biblical and ecclesiastical
knowledge.
One mistake as I know now, the dear old rector made. He did not know of
the archaeological interest of the church, disfigured as it had been by
country carpenters and painters and white-washers, and he built a new one,
designed by Sir G. Gilbert Scott, then a very young man. And so S.
Wilfred's Church was pulled down, and a modern building, handsome enough,
has taken its place. But before it was finished the old rector died. So
now my recollections pass on to another building and another idea of
service.
The new church was certainly more comfortable for the schoolboys, and the
singing still continued good. But the new rector made some alterations in
matters on which his predecessors had been strong. He was a very
pronounced Puritan, and forbade the school children to turn eastward for
the Creeds. He forbade such simple anthems as "Lord of all power and
might," and Cecil's "I will arise." But he had his very good points. He
was young and active, and visited his people assiduously, established a
monthly Communion, and worked up a regular branch of the Church Missionary
Society, which nobody in the village had ever heard of before. I grew up
to manhood during his incumbency, and though I regarded his Puritan
practices, and listened to his Calvinistic sermons and tirades against
Popery with extreme dislike, I see now that he was a man who was most
faithful to his convictions, and no man could be more earnest for the
spiritual welfare of his people. He was no scholar, I doubt whether he
could have read a page of the Greek Testament in his later days. But he
was the kind friend of the sick and the aged, and looked after the young
people of his flock, and when they went forth into the world gave them
loving and sensible counsels. His wife was as sweet and saintly a
character as ever I knew, and their large family have all proved the
wisdom of their training. One son has earned himself a name as respected
as it is widely known.
His successor was a man of like views, better read, and a kindly-hearted
man. But he was less in his parish. Though he kept no curate, he was
constantly absent as a "missionary deputation," and his congregation, who
had never been instructed in church principles, fell away. He died, and
his successor, who was only there for a year or two, was, I am told, a
failure, greatly owing to weak health; and so we come down to present
times. An organ has been given to the church, thanks to a generous layman;
the choir march in procession to their places in the chancel, they do a
respectable choral service, and of course turn eastward for their Creed.
The parson looks thoroughly well after them, and loves them. There are
regular week-day services, and a fair attendance on holy days, and the
Sunday congregation is steadily increasing. It had gone down terribly.
Such is an impartial review of the church life in an out-of-the-way
country village. My own special old Rector (for I owe more to him than I
could ever tell), the builder of the church, was one of the original
movers in the celebrated movement of 1833, was in fact one of the persons
present at the meeting at Hadleigh Rectory, under the presidency of Hugh
James Rose, which led to the starting of the _Tracts for the Times_.
His name appears both in Palmer's Narrative, and in Newman's
Correspondence. He was a great friend of John Keble. But as the Tract
Movement declined visibly towards Rome he regarded it with increasing
dislike, and in his last years expressed that dislike with emphasis. I
have sometimes wondered what position he would take up if he lived in our
own day, and am inclined to think that the present Archbishop of
Canterbury would be regarded by him as best expressing his own views.
Peace to them every one, everlasting Light and Rest.
Ye Ende
Index
Abbatial staff, 196
Abbots Bromley, horns at, 13
Advent ringing, 46
Agnus Bell, 43
Ale, baptized in, 80
Ales, Church, 19, 151-152
Altars in churches, 161-166
Andrews, William, F.R.H.S., Inscriptions on Bells, 49-63;
Laws of the Belfry, 64-73;
Bells cast in churchyards, 154-156.
Anglo-Saxon burials, 127
Anglo-Saxon marriage, 100
Anglo-Saxon prelates, 198-201
Annointing at baptism, 89
Announcements of fortunes at marriages, 121
Apostle Spoons, 90
Armour, burial in, 132
Armour in Churches, 174-181
Armour at funerals, 129, 178
Arvel Dinner, 139
Ascension Day customs, 188-189
Axon, W. E. A., Shorthand in Church, 246-260
Banns, forbidding, 113
Banns peal, 46
Baptism, earliest titles of, 78
Baptism rejected, 79
Barton-le-Street, curious customs at, 20
Batley bells, poem on, 61-63
Beating the Bounds, 182-190
Bell inscriptions, 35, 39, 40, 45, 49, 63
Bells cast in churches and churchyards, 154
Bells lost, 38-39
Benham, Rev. Canon, B.D., F.S.A., Customs and Superstitions of Baptism,
78-98;
Reminiscences of our Village Church, 261-270
Bibles, throwing dice for, 165
Biddenden Maids, 25
Bidding at weddings, 119
Bidding for funerals, 146
Bishops in Battle, 198-231
Black Prince, armour of, 175
Blinds taken down at death, 139
Bragget Sunday, 23
Bread and beer distributed at a tomb, 20
Bridegrooms, 104
Box at funerals, 145
Boy-bishop, 2-8
Bozeat toffee, 25
Bridesmaids, 103
Briscoe, J. Potter, "Curiosities of the Belfry," 73
Bull-running, 28
Burial Customs, 126-146
Burial without city walls, 127
Bumping children, 187-188;
a curate, 188
Buns and cider, 24
Burning books, 158
Burnley marriage custom, 123
Butchers' serenade, 122
Caistor gad-whip, 28
Canute's crown, 175
Card-playing, 20
Carling Sunday, 23
Caroline, Queen, trial of, 26;
Catechising, 266
Chanting in Church, 265
Choir in the olden days, 263-264
Christening bit, 92;
garments, 89;
tongs, 91;
folk-lore, 94-98
Chrisom, 143
Christmas, 13, 22, 29, 46
Church-Ales, 19, 151, 152
Churchwardens' accounts, 186-187
Churchyards, 127
Cider, 24
Cock-fighting, 20
Coffins, burials without, 134-135
Collecting at funerals in Wales, 139-140
Commonwealth, marriages under, 115
Corpse, and right of way, 140
Costume at weddings, 123
Cox, Rev. J. C., LL.D., F.S.A., on Sports in Churches, 1-20;
Armour in Churches, 174-181
Cremation, 127
Cromwell, satire on, 252
Cross roads, burial at, 144
Crosses, burial, 141, 144, 158
Crusaders, 218, 224
Customs and superstitions of baptism, 78-98
Dancing in churches, 8-15
Dates on bells, 40
Day for marriage, 125
Dead, baptism of, 84
Dead, ringing home, 130
Deaf and dumb marriages, 120-121
Dice cast on the Altar, 165
Disputes settled in churchyards, 147
Doles at funerals, 135, 152
Domesday Book, churches mentioned in, 147
Dowry for poor maidens, 111
Druids, 26
Easter, 24, 36
Easter Eggs, 31
Eastern portion of churchyard, burial in, 136-138
Edward III., armour of, 176
Embalming, 126
Epitaph, curious, 58, 137
Fairs held in churchyards, 149, 237
Feast, 22
Feasts, burial, 136
Feasting in churches, 19
Feudal tenures, 211
Fig-pie Sunday, 23
Font, use of, 81
Football, 27
Foxhunting parson, 262
Funeral banquets, 19
Garlands at funerals, 143
Garlands, nuptial, 105
Gifts at christening, 92-93
Girls baptised first, 94
Gold and silver, altars made of, 163
Good Friday, 24, 28
Good Shepherd, 193
Grain at weddings, 119
Great Rebellion, 227, 231
Great Tom of Lincoln, 41
Gretna Green marriages, 120
Gowrie Plot, 37
Gunpowder Plot, 35-36
Hats worn in church, 247
Hampshire burial superstitions, 131
Handbells, 44
Hare-pie, 24
Harvest Bell, 45
Haxey Hood, 27
Heart burial, 128
Hearse, 130
Hindoo marriage custom, 110
Holy Cross, 147, 167
Holy Day Customs, 21-32
Horn-dancers, 13-14
Horse claimed at a mortuary, 129
Hot cross buns, 24
Hot pot at weddings, 102
Hour-glasses in coffins, 131
Howlett, England, F.S.A., Marriage Customs, 99-125,
Burial Customs, 126-146
Hucksters' stalls in churches, 1
Husband and Wife re-united, 117
Images, 244
Immersion, 81
Inscriptions on Bells, 49-63
Kershaw, S. W., F.S.A., The Cloister and its story, 232-245
Kendal Custom, 30
Kissing, 109
Knives, 103
Lamplough, Edward, Bishops in Battle, 198-231
Lights to guide travellers by night, 232
Longest day, 242
Laws of the Belfry, 64-73
Market Bell, 37
Marriage Customs, 99-125
Mass on the field of battle, 213
May 29th, ringing on, 34
Maunday Thursday, 30
Midnight burials, 142
Mince-pies, 22
Miracle Play, 16-18
Mistletoe, 26
Mitred Abbots, 196
Molly Grime, 28
Monks of Durham, 204
Moravian marriage customs, 117
Morris dancers, 10-12
Mothering Sunday, 23
Mulled ale, 23
Myton, battle of, 203
New Year's eve ringing, 40
Nicholson, John, Concerning the Churchyard, 147-160
Notorious characters buried north side of the church, 137
Oak-apple day, 34
Palm Sunday at Leigh, 29
Palls, 145
Page, John T., The Rood Loft and its uses, 167-173;
Beating the Bounds, 182-190
Pancakes, 22, 37
Pancake bell, 23
Parish Armour, 178-181
Parish Clerks, 114
Passing Bell, 47, 128
Pastoral staff, 129
Paul's Pitcher Day, 30
Paying toll at weddings, 122
Peacock, Florence, Church Bells, when and why they were Rung, 33-48
Penance performance in Hull, 158
Preaching from Shorthand, 259
Private baptism, 83
Proxy, marriage by, 106
Processioning, 184
Puritan, 267
Quakers baptized, 81
Quarrels in churchyards, 151
Reeve, Isaac J., Ringers' Jugs, 74-77
Refreshment Sunday, 23
Reminiscences of our Village Church, 261-270
Reporting, objections to, 258
Revival of the rood screen, 172
Rice at wedding, 118
Rings, wedding, 107
Ringers' Jugs, 74-77
Rival Popes, 216
Rome, ancient, marriage in, 10
Rood Loft and its Uses, 167-173
Roods swept away at the Reformation, 170
Rogation Week, 183
Rosemary at funerals, 131
Rubbish heap in churchyards, 159
Russian burial customs, 141
St. Andrew, 40-41
St. Hugh's Day, 44
Saints and martyrs buried under the altar, 161
Salt at funerals, 144
Sand strewing at weddings, 124
Sanctus Bell, 42
Sawdust strewing at weddings, 124
Saxon Church, 261-262
Screens in churches, 168-169
Scrope, Richard, 224-227
Scriptorium, 233-235
Scrambling customs, 153-154
Seasons for marrying, 111
Secular uses of churches, 1
Sceptre, 192
Seville, dancing at, 14-15
Shakespeare on armour, 175
Sitting posture, buried in a, 134
Shrines, 236
Shrove Tuesday, 22-36
Shoes at weddings, 118-124
Shorthand in Church, 246-260
Simnels, 23
Skeletons represented on tombs, 142
Smith, W. H., shorthand reports for, 259-260