1857, it is stated respecting the foregoing epitaph: "Smoke money or
chimney money is now collected at Battle, in Sussex, each householder
paying one penny to the Lord of the Manor. It is also levied upon the
inhabitants of the New Forest, in Hants, for the right of cutting peat and
turf for fuel. And from 'Audley's Companion to the Almanac,' page 76, we
learn that 'anciently, even in England, Whitsun farthings, or smoke
farthings, were a composition for offerings made in the Whitsun week, by
every man who occupied a house with a chimney, to the cathedral of the
diocese in which he lived.' The late Mr. E. B. Price has observed, in
_Notes and Queries_ (Vol. ii., p. 379), that there is a church at
Northampton, upon which is an inscription recording that the expense of
repairing it was defrayed by a grant of chimney money for, I believe,
seven years, temp. Charles II."
[Illustration: SIGN OF THE BOAR'S HEAD.]
In bygone times the "Boar's Head" was a common tavern sign, and this is
not surprising for the animal figures in English history, poetry, romance
and popular pastimes. The most famous inn bearing the title of the "Boar's
Head" was that in Eastcheap, London. The earliest mention of this tavern
occurs in the testament of William Warden in the days of Richard II., who
gave "all that tenement called the Boar's Head in Eastcheap to a college
of priests, or chaplain, founded by Sir William Walworth, the Lord Mayor,
in the adjoining church of St. Michael, Crooked Lane." It was here that
Prince Hal and "honest Jack Falstaff" played their pranks. At the door of
the house until the Great Fire were carved figures of the two worthies. In
the works of Goldsmith will be found a charming chapter called
"Reflections in the Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap"; anyone interested in
this old place should not fail to read it. In his pleasant day-dreams he
forgets the important fact that the original house perished in the Great
Fire. In the Guildhall Library is preserved the stone sign from the old
house, which was pulled down in 1831 to make way for the streets leading
to the new London Bridge. We give a picture of this old-time sign on the
opposite page.
A famous waiter of this tavern was buried in the graveyard of St.
Michael's Church, hard by, and a monument of Purbeck stone was placed to
his memory bearing an interesting inscription. We give a picture of the
gravestone, which has been removed to the yard of St. Magnus the Martyr.
[Illustration: PRESTON'S TOMBSTONE AT ST. MAGNUS THE MARTYR.]
The next example from Abesford, on an exciseman, is entitled to a place
among Bacchanalian epitaphs:--
No supervisor's check he fears--
Now no commissioner obeys;
He's free from cares, entreaties, tears,
And all the heavenly oil surveys.
In the churchyard of North Wingfield, Derbyshire, a gravestone bears the
following inscription:
In memory of THOMAS, son of John and Mary Clay, who departed this life
December 16th, 1724, in the 40th year of his age.
What though no mournful kindred stand
Around the solemn bier,
No parents wring the trembling hand,
Or drop the silent tear.
No costly oak adorned with art
My weary limbs inclose;
No friends impart a winding sheet
To deck my last repose.
The cause of the foregoing curious epitaph is thus explained. Thomas Clay
was a man of intemperate habits, and at the time of his death was indebted
to the village innkeeper, named Adlington, to the amount of twenty pounds.
The publican resolved to seize the body; but the parents of the deceased
carefully kept the door locked until the day appointed for the funeral. As
soon as the door was opened, Adlington rushed into the house, seized the
corpse, and placed it on a form in the open street in front of the
residence of the parents of the departed. Clay's friends refused to
discharge the publican's account. After the body had been exposed for
several days, Adlington committed it to the ground in a _bacon chest_.
We conclude this class of epitaphs with the following from Winchester
Cathedral yard:--
In memory of
THOMAS THETCHER,
a Grenadier in the North Regiment of Hants Militia,
who died of a violent fever contracted by drinking small
beer when hot
the 12th of May, 1764, aged 26 years.
In grateful remembrance of whose universal goodwill
towards his comrades this stone is placed here at their expense, as
a small testimony of their regard and concern.
Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire Grenadier,
Who caught his death by drinking cold small beer;
Soldiers, be wise from his untimely fall,
And when ye're hot drink strong, or none at all.
This memorial, being decayed, was restored by the officers of the
garrison, A.D. 1781:--
An honest soldier never is forgot,
Whether he die by musket or by pot.
This stone was placed by the North Hants Militia, when disembodied at
Winchester, on 26th April, 1802, in consequence of the original stone
being destroyed.
[Illustration: THETCHER'S TOMBSTONE, WINCHESTER.
_From a Photo by F. A. Grant._]
Epitaphs on Parish Clerks and Sextons.
Not a few of our old parish clerks and sextons were eccentric characters,
and it is not therefore surprising that their epitaphs are amongst the
most curious of the many strange examples to be found in the quiet
resting-places of the departed.
In the churchyard of Crayford is a gravestone bearing the following
inscription:--
Here lieth the body
of
PETER ISNELL,
Thirty years clerk of this Parish.
He lived respected as a pious and mirthful man, and died on his
way to church to assist at a wedding,
On the 31st day of March, 1811,
Aged 70 years.
The inhabitants of Crayford have raised this stone to his cheerful
memory, and as a tribute to his long and faithful services.
The life of this clerk, just three score and ten,
Nearly half of which time he had sung out "Amen;"
In youth he was married, like other young men,
But his wife died one day, so he chanted "Amen."
A second he took, she departed--what then?
He married and buried a third with "Amen."
Thus his joys and his sorrows were treble, but then
His voice was deep bass, as he sung out "Amen."
On the horn he could blow as well as most men;
So his horn was exalted to blowing "Amen."
But he lost all his wind after three score and ten,
And here, with three wives, he awaits till again
The trumpet shall rouse him to sing out "Amen."
In addition to being parish clerk, Frank Raw, of Selby, Yorkshire, was a
gravestone cutter, for we are told:--
Here lies the body of poor FRANK RAW,
Parish clerk and gravestone cutter,
And this is writ to let you know
What Frank for others used to do,
Is now for Frank done by another.
The next epitaph, placed to the memory of a parish clerk and
bellows-maker, was formerly in the old church of All Saints',
Newcastle-on-Tyne:--
Here lies ROBERT WALLAS,
The King of Good Fellows,
Clerk of All-Hallows,
And maker of bellows.
On a slate headstone, near the south porch of Bingham Church,
Nottinghamshire, is inscribed:--
Beneath this stone lies THOMAS HART,
Years fifty-eight he took the part
Of Parish Clerk: few did excel.
Correct he read and sung so well;
His words distinct, his voice so clear,
Till eighteen hundred and fiftieth year.
Death cut the brittle thread, and then
A period put to his Amen.
At eighty-two his breath resigned,
To meet the fate of all mankind;
The third of May his soul took flight
To mansions of eternal light.
The bell for him with awful tone
His body summoned to the tomb.
Oh! may his sins be all forgiv'n
And Christ receive him into heav'n.
From the churchyard of Ratcliffe-on-Soar, we have a curious epitaph to the
memory of Robert Smith, who died in 1782, aged 82 years:--
Fifty-five years it was, and something more,
Clerk of this parish he the office bore,
And in that space, 'tis awful to declare,
Two generations buried by him were!
In a note by Mr. Llewellyn Jewitt, F.S.A., we are told that with the
clerkship of Bakewell Church, the "vocal powers" of its holders appear to
have been to some extent hereditary, if we may judge by the inscriptions
recording the deaths and the abilities of two members of the family of
Roe, which are found on gravestones in the churchyard there. The first of
these, recording the death of Samuel Roe, is as under:--
To
The memory of
SAMUEL ROE,
Clerk
Of the Parish Church of Bakewell,
Which office
He filled thirty-five years
With credit to himself
And satisfaction to the Inhabitants.
His natural powers of voice,
In clearness, strength, and sweetness
Were altogether unequalled.
He died October 31st, 1792,
Aged 70 years.
| died | aged
SARAH his third wife | 1811 | 77
CHARLES their son | 1810 | 52
He had three wives, Millicent, who died in 1745, aged 22; Dorothy, who
died 1754, aged 28; and Sarah, who survived him and died in 1811, at the
age of 77. A gravestone records the death of his first two wives as
follows, and the third is commemorated in the above inscription.
MILLICENT,
Wife of Saml Roe,
She died Sepr 16th, 1745, aged 22.
DOROTHY,
Wife of Saml Roe,
She died Novr 13th, 1754, aged 28.
Respecting the above-mentioned Samuel Roe, a contributor to the
_Gentleman's Magazine_ wrote, on February 13th, 1794:--
"Mr. Urban,
"It was with much concern that I read the epitaph upon Mr. Roe, in your
last volume, p. 1192. Upon a little tour which I made in Derbyshire, in
1789, I met with that worthy and very intelligent man at Bakewell, and, in
the course of my antiquarian researches there, derived no inconsiderable
assistance from his zeal and civility. If he did not possess the learning
of his namesake, your old and valuable correspondent, I will venture to
declare that he was not less influenced by a love and veneration for
antiquity, many proofs of which he had given by his care and attention to
the monuments in the church, which were committed to his charge; for he
united the characters of sexton, clerk, singing-master, will-maker, and
school-master. Finding that I was quite alone, he requested permission to
wait upon me at the inn in the evening, urging, as a reason for this
request, that he must be exceedingly gratified by the conversation of a
gentleman who could read the characters upon the monument of Vernon, the
founder of Haddon House, a treat he had not met with for many years.
After a very pleasant gossip we parted, but not till my honest friend had,
after some apparent struggle, begged of me to indulge him with my name."
To his careful attention is to be attributed the preservation of the
curious Vernon and other monuments in the church, over which, in some
instances, he placed wooden framework to keep off the rough hands and
rougher knives of the boys and young men of the congregation. He also
watched with special care over the Wendesley tomb, and even took careful
rubbings of the inscriptions.
While speaking of this Mr. Roe, it may be well to put the readers of this
work in possession of an interesting fact in connection with the name of
Roe, or Row. The writer above, in his letter to Mr. Urban, says, "If he
did not possess the learning of his namesake, your old and valued
correspondent," etc. By this he means "T. Row," whose contributions to the
_Gent.'s Mag._ were very numerous and interesting. The writer under this
signature was the Rev. Samuel Pegge, rector of Whittington, and the
letters forming this pseudonym were the initials of the words, T[he]
R[ector] O[f] W[hittington].
Philip Roe, who succeeded his father (Samuel Roe) as parish clerk of
Bakewell, was his son by his third wife. He was born in 1763, and
succeeded his father in full parochial honours in 1792, having, we
believe, for some time previously acted as his deputy. He died in 1815,
aged 52 years, and was buried with the other members of the family. The
following curious inscription appears on his gravestone:--
Erected
In remembrance of
PHILIP ROE
who died 12th September, 1815
Aged 52 years.
The vocal Powers here let us mark
Of Philip our late Parish Clerk
In Church none ever heard a Layman
With a clearer Voice say "Amen!"
Who now with Hallelujahs Sound
Like him can make the roofs rebound?
The Choir lament his Choral Tones
The Town--so soon Here lie his Bones.
"Sleep undisturb'd within thy peaceful shrine
Till Angels wake thee with such notes as thine."
Also of SARAH his wife
who departed this life on the
24th of January 1817
aged 51 years.
Cuthbert Bede, B.A., says, "As a boy I often attended the service at
Belbroughton Church, Worcestershire, where the parish clerk was Mr.
Osborne, tailor. His family had there been parish clerks and tailors since
the time of Henry the Eighth, and were lineally descended from William
FitzOsborne, who, in the twelfth century, had been deprived by Ralph
FitzHerbert of his right to the manor of Bellem, in the parish of
Belbroughton. Often have I stood in the picturesque churchyard of
Wolverley, Worcestershire, by the grave of its old parish clerk, whom I
well remember, old Thomas Worrall, the inscription on whose monument is as
follows:--
Sacred to the Memory of
THOMAS WORRALL,
Parish Clerk of Wolverley for a period of forty-seven years.
Died A.D. 1854, February 23rd.
Aged 76 years.
He served with faithfulness in humble sphere,
As one who could his talent well employ.
Hope that when Christ his Lord shall re-appear,
He may be bidden to His Master's joy.
This tombstone was erected to the memory of the deceased by a few of
the parishioners in testimony of his worth.
April, 1855. Charles R. Somers Cocks, vicar.
It may be noted of this worthy parish clerk that, with the exception of a
week or two before his death, he was never once absent from his Sunday
and week-day duties in the forty-seven years during which he held office.
He succeeded his father, James Worrall, who died in 1806, aged
seventy-nine, after being parish clerk of Wolverley for thirty years. His
tombstone, near to that of his son, was erected 'to record his worth both
in his public and private character, and as a mark of personal
esteem--h.l.F.H.&W.C.p.c.' I am told that these initials stand for F.
Hurtle and the Rev. William Callow, and that the latter was the author of
the following lines inscribed on the monument, which are well worth
quoting:--
If courtly bards adorn each statesman's bust,
And strew their laurels o'er each warrior's dust
Alike immortalise, as good and great,
Him who enslaved as him who saved the state,
Surely the muse (a rustic minstrel) may
Drop one wild flower upon a poor man's clay;
This artless tribute to his mem'ry give
Whose life was such as heroes seldom live.
In worldly knowledge, poor indeed his store--
He knew the village and he scarce knew more.
The worth of heavenly truth he justly knew--
In faith a Christian, and in practice too.
Yes, here lies one, excel him ye who can;
Go! imitate the virtues of that man!"
A memorial record on the church of Holy Trinity, Hull, is as follows:--
In memory of JOHN STONE
Parish Clerk 41 years
Excellent in his way
Buried here 26 May 1727
Aged 78.
First amongst notable sextons is the name of Old Scarlett, who died July
2, 1591, at the good old age of ninety-eight, and occupied for a long time
the position of sexton of Peterborough Cathedral. He buried two
generations of his fellow-creatures. A portrait of him, placed at the west
end of that noble church, has perpetuated his fame, and caused him to be
introduced in effigy in various publications. Says a writer in the "Book
of Days": "And what a lively effigy--short, stout, hardy, and
self-complacent, perfectly satisfied, and perhaps even proud, of his
profession, and content to be exhibited with all its insignia about him!
Two queens had passed through his hands into that bed which gives a
lasting rest to queens and to peasants alike. An officer of Death, who had
so long defied his principal, could not but have made some impression on
the minds of bishop, dean, prebends, and other magnates of the Cathedral,
and hence, as we may suppose, the erection of this lively portraiture of
the old man, which is believed to have been only once renewed since it
was first put up. Dr. Dibdin, who last copied it, tells us that 'Old
Scarlett's jacket and trunkhose are of a brownish red, his stockings blue,
his shoes black, tied with blue ribbons, and the soles of his feet red.
The cap upon his head is red, and so also is the ground of the coat
armour.'"
[Illustration: OLD SCARLETT, THE PETERBOROUGH SEXTON.]
The following lines below his portrait are characteristic of his age:--
You see OLD SCARLETT'S picture stand on hie;
But at your feet here doth his body lye.
His gravestone doth his age and death-time shew,
His office by heis token[s] you may know.
Second to none for strength and sturdy lymm,
A scare-babe mighty voice, with visage grim;
He had inter'd two queenes within this place,
And this townes householders in his life's space
Twice over; but at length his own time came
What he for others did, for him the same
Was done: no doubt his soule doth live for aye,
In heaven, though his body clad in clay.
The first of the queens interred by Scarlett was Catherine, the divorced
wife of Henry VIII., who died in 1535, at Kimbolton Castle, in
Huntingdonshire. The second was Mary, Queen of Scots, who was beheaded at
Fotheringay in 1587, and first interred here, though subsequently
transported to Westminster Abbey.
Our next example is from Bingley, Yorkshire:--
In memory of HEZEKIAH BRIGGS, who died August 5th, 1844, in
the 80th year of his age. He was sexton at this church
43 years, and interred upwards of 7000 corpses.
[Here the names of his wife and several children are given.]
Here lies an old ringer, beneath the cold clay,
Who has rung many peals both for serious and gay;
Through Grandsire and Trebles with ease he could range,
Till death called a Bob, which brought round the last change.
For all the village came to him
When they had need to call;
His counsel free to all was given,
For he was kind to all.
Ring on, ring on, sweet Sabbath bell,
Still kind to me thy matins swell,
And when from earthly things I part,
Sigh o'er my grave, and lull my heart.
An upright stone in the burial-ground at Hartwith Chapel, in Nidderdale,
Yorkshire, bears the following inscription:--
In memory of WILLIAM DARNBROUGH, who for the last forty
years of his life was sexton of this chapel. He died
October 3rd, 1846, in the one hundredth year
of his age.
"Thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace; thou shalt be buried
in a good old age."--Genesis XV., 15.
The graves around for many a year
Were dug by him who slumbers here,--
Till worn with age, he dropped his spade,
And in the dust his bones were laid.
As he now, mouldering, shares the doom
Of those he buried in the tomb;
So shall he, too, with them arise,
To share the judgment of the skies.
An examination of Pateley Bridge Church registers proves that Darnbrough
was one hundred and two years of age.
An epitaph from Saddleworth, Yorkshire, tells us:--
Here was interred the body of JOHN BROADBENT, Sexton, who departed
this life, August 3rd, 1769, in the 73rd year of his age.
Forty-eight years, strange to tell,
He bore the bier and toll'd the bell,
And faithfully discharged his trust,
In "earth to earth" and "dust to dust."
Cease to lament,
His life is spent,
The grave is still his element;
His old friend Death knew 'twas his sphere,
So kindly laid the sexton here.
At Rothwell, near Leeds, an old sexton is buried in the church porch. A
monumental inscription runs thus:--
In memory of THOMAS FLOCKTON, Sexton 59 years, buried
23rd day of February, 1783, aged 78 years.
Here lies within this porch so calm,
Old Thomas. Pray sound his knell,
Who thought no song was like a psalm--
No music like a bell.
At Darlington, there is a Latin epitaph over the remains of Richard
Preston, which has been freely translated as follows:--
Under this marble are depos'd
Poor PRESTON'S sad remains.
Alas! too true for light-rob'd jest
To sing in playful strains.
Ye dread possessors of the grave,
Who feed on others' woe,
Abstain from Richard's small remains,
And grateful pity shew;
For many a weighty corpse he gave
To you with liberal hand;
Then sure his little body may
Some small respect command.
The gravestone bears the date of 1765.
Further examples might be included, but we have given sufficient to show
the varied and curious epitaphs placed to the memory of parish clerks and
sextons.
Punning Epitaphs.
Puns in epitaphs have been very common, and may be found in Greek and
Latin, and still more plentifully in our English compositions. In the
French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, and other languages, examples
occur. Empedocles wrote an epitaph containing the paronomasia, or pun, on
a physician named Pausanias, and it has by Merivale been happily
translated:--
PAUSANIAS--not so nam'd without a cause,
As one who oft has giv'n to pain a pause,
Blest son of AEsculapius, good and wise,
Here, in his native Gela, buried lies;
Who many a wretch once rescu'd by his charms
From dark Persephone's constraining arms.
In Holy Trinity Church, Hull, is an example of a punning epitaph. It is on
a slab in the floor of the north aisle of the nave, to the memory of "The
Worshipful Joseph Field, twice Mayor of this town, and Merchant
Adventurer." He died in 1627, aged 63 years:--
Here is a Field sown, that at length must sprout,
And 'gainst the ripening harvest's time break out,
When to that Husband it a crop shall yield
Who first did dress and till this new-sown Field;
Yet ere this Field you see this crop can give,
The seed first dies, that it again may live.
_Sit Deus amicus,
Sanctis, vel in Sepulchris spes est._
On Bishop Theophilus Field, in Hereford Cathedral, ob. 1636, is another
specimen:--
The Sun that light unto three churches gave
Is set; this Field is buried in a grave.
This Sun shall rise, this Field renew his flowers,
This sweetness breathe for ages, not for hours.
He was successively Bishop of Llandaff, St. Davids, and Hereford.
The following rather singular epitaph, with a play upon the name, occurs
in the chancel of Checkley Church, Staffordshire:--
To the Memory of the Reverend JAMES WHITEHALL, Rector of this place
twenty and five years, who departed this life the second daie of
March, 1644.
White was his name, and whiter than this stone.
In hope of joyfole resurrection
Here lies that orthodox, that grave divine,
In wisdom trve, vertve did soe clearly shine;
One that could live and die as he hath done
Suffer'd not death but a translation.
Bvt ovt of charitie I'll speake no more,
Lest his friends pine with sighs, with teares the poor.
From Hornsea Church we have the epitaph of Will Day, gentleman; he lived
thirty-four years, died May 22nd, 1616:--
If that man's life be likened to a day,
One here interr'd in youth did lose a day,
By death, and yet no loss to him at all,
For he a threefold day gain'd by his fall;
One day of rest is bliss celestial.
Two days on earth by gifts terrestryall--
Three pounds at Christmas, three at Easter Day,
Given to the poure until the world's last day,
This was no cause to heaven; but, consequent,
Who thither will, must tread the steps he went.
For why? Faith, Hope, and Christian Charity,
Perfect the house framed for eternity.
On the east wall of the chancel of Kettlethorpe Church, co. Lincoln, is a
tablet to the memory of "Johannes Becke, quondam Rector istius ecclesiae,"
who died 1597, with the following lines in old English characters:--
I am a BECKE, or river as you know,
And wat'rd here ye church, ye schole, ye pore,
While God did make my springes here for to flow:
But now my fountain stopt, it runs no more;
From Church and schole mi life ys now bereft,
But no ye pore four poundes I yearly left.
We may add that the stream of his charity still flows, and is yearly
distributed amongst the poor of Kettlethorpe.
Bishop Sanderson, in his "Survey of Lincoln Cathedral," gives the
following epitaph on Dr. William Cole, Dean of Lincoln, who died in 1600.
The upper part of the stone, with Dr. Cole's arms, is, or was lately, in
the Cathedral, but the epitaph has been lost:--
Reader, behold the pious pattern here
Of true devotion and of holy fear.
He sought God's glory and the churches good.
Idle idol worship he withstood.
Yet dyed in peace, whose body here doth lie
In expectation of eternity.
And when the latter trump of heaven shall blow,
Cole, now rak'd up in ashes, then shall glow.
Here is another from Lincoln Cathedral, on Dr. Otwell Hill:--
'Tis OTWELL HILL, a holy Hill,
And truly, sooth to say,
Upon this HILL be praised still
The Lord both night and day.
Upon this Hill, this HILL did cry
Aloud the scripture letter,
And strove your wicked villains by
Good conduct to make better.
And now this HILL, tho' under stones,
Has the Lord's Hill to lie on;
For Lincoln Hill has got his bones,
His soul the Hill of Zion.
The _Guardian_, for 3rd Dec., 1873, gives the following epitaph as being
in Lillington Church, Dorset, on the grave of a man named Cole, who died
in 1669:--