Part 26 (1/2)

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PARISH CLERK OF QUEDGELEY]

The Rev. Canon Hemmans tell his reminiscences of Thomas Evison, parish clerk of Wragby, Lincolns.h.i.+re, who died in 1865, aged eighty-two years.

He speaks of him as ”a dear old friend, for whom I had a profound regard, and to whom I was grateful for much help during my noviciate at my first and only curacy.”

Thomas Evison was a shoemaker, and in his early years a great pot-house orator. Settled on his well-known corner seat in the ”Red Lion,” he would be seen each evening smoking his pipe and laying down the law in the character of the village oracle. He must have had some determination and force of character, as one evening he laid down his pipe on the hob and said, ”I'll smoke no more.” He also retired from his corner seat at the inn, but he was true to his political opinions, and remained an ardent Radical to the last. This action showed some courage, as almost all the parish belonged to the squire, who was a strong Tory of the old school. Canon Hemmans was curate of Wragby with the Rev. G.B. Yard from 1851 to 1860, succeeding the present Dean of St. Paul's. Mr. Yard was a High Churchman, a personal friend of Manning, the Wilberforces, R.

Sibthorpe, and Keble, and when expounding then unaccustomed and forgotten truths, he found the clerk a most intelligent and attentive hearer. Evison used to attend the daily services, except the Wednesday and Friday Litany, which service was too short for him. During the vicar's absence Canon Hemmans, who was then a deacon, found the clerk a most reliable adviser and instructor in Lincolns.h.i.+re customs and words and ways of thought. When he was baptizing a child privately, the name Thirza was given to the child, which he did not recognise as a Bible name. He consulted Evison, who said, ”Oh, yes, it is so; it's the name of Abel's wife.” On the next day Evison bought a book, Gesner's _Death of Abel_, a translation of some Swedish or German work, in which the tragedy of the early chapters of Genesis is woven into a story with pious reflections. This is not an uncommon book, and the clerk said these people believed it was as true as the Bible, because it claimed to be about Bible characters.

Evison was a diligent reader of newspapers, which were much fewer in his day, and studied diligently the sermons reported in the local Press. He was much puzzled by the reference to ”the leg end” of the story of the raising of Lazarus in a sermon preached by the Bishop of London, afterwards Archbishop Tait. A reference to Bailey's Dictionary and the finding of the word _legend_ made matters clear. Of course he miscalled words. During the Russian War he told Mr. Hemmans that we were not fighting for ”territororial possessions,” and he always read ”Moabites and Hungarians” in his rendering of the sixth verse of the 83rd Psalm.

After the resignation of Mr. Yard in 1859 a Low Churchman was appointed, who restored the use of the black gown. Mr. Hemmans had to preach in the evening of the first Sunday, and was undecided as to whether he ought to continue to use the surplice. He consulted Evison, whose brave advice was, ”Stick to your colours.”

The clerk stuck stoutly to his Radical principles, and one day went to Lincoln to take part in a contested election. On the following Sunday the vicar spoke of ”the filthy stream of politics.” The old man was rather moved by this, and said afterwards, ”Well, I am not too old to learn.” Though staunch to his own principles, he was evidently considerate towards the opinions of others. He used to keep a pony and gig, and his foreman, one Solomon Bingham, was a local preacher. When there came a rough Sunday morning the kind old clerk would say: ”Well, Solomon, where are you going to seminate your schism to-day? You may have my trap.” Canon Hemmans retains a very affectionate regard for the memory of the old clerk.

Mrs. Ellen M. Burrows sends me a charming description of an old-fas.h.i.+oned service, and some clerkly manners which are worth recording.

From twenty-five to thirty years ago the small Bedfords.h.i.+re village of Tingrith had quaint customs and ceremonies which to-day exist only in the memory of the few.

The lady of the manor was perhaps best described by a neighbouring squire as a ”potentate in petticoats.”

Being sole owner of the village, she found employment for all the men, enforced cleanliness on all the women, greatly encouraged the industry of lace-making and hat-sewing, paid for the schooling of the children, and looked after the morals of everybody generally.

Legend has it that one ancient schoolmaster whom this good lady appointed was not overgood at spelling, and would allow a pupil to laboriously spell out a word and wait for him to explain. If the master could not do this he would pretend to be preoccupied, and advise the pupil to ”say 'wheelbarrow' and go on.”

On a Sunday each and every cottager was expected at church. The women sat on one side of the centre aisle and the men on the other, the former attired in clean cotton gowns and the latter in their Sunday smocks.

The three bells were clanged inharmoniously until a boy who was stationed at a point of vantage told the ringer ”she's a-comin'.” Then one bell only was rung to announce the near arrival of the lady of the manor.

The rector would take his place at the desk, and the occupants of the centre aisle would rise respectfully to their feet in antic.i.p.ation.

A white-haired butler and a younger footman--with many bra.s.s b.u.t.tons on their coat-tails--would fling wide the double doors and stand one on either side until the old lady swept in; then one door was closed and the other only left open for less-important wors.h.i.+ppers to enter. As she pa.s.sed between the men and women to the big pew joining the chancel screen, they all touched their forelocks or dropped curtsies before resuming their seats. Before this aristocratic personage began her devotions she would face round and with the aid of a large monocle, which hung round her neck on a broad black ribbon, would make a silent call over, and for the tardy, or non-arrivals, there was a lecture in store. The servants of her household had the whole of one side aisle allotted to their use. The farmers had the other. There were two ”strangers' pews,” two ”christening pews,” and the rest were for the children. When a hymn was given out the schoolmaster would vigorously apply a tuning-fork to his knee, and having thus got the key would start the tune, which was taken up l.u.s.tily by the children round him. This was all the singing they had in the service. The clerk said all the amens except when he was asleep. The rector was never known to preach more than ten minutes at a time, and this was always so simple an exposition of the Scripture that the most illiterate could understand.

But no pen can pay tribute enough to the sweet earnestness of those little sermons, or, having heard them, ever go away unimpressed.

At the end of the service no one of the congregation moved until the lady of the manor sailed out of the great square pew. Then the men and women rose as before and bowed and bobbed as she pa.s.sed down the aisle.

The two menservants again flung wide the double doors and stood stiffly on either side as she pa.s.sed out; then sedately walked home behind her at a respectful distance.

On each Good Friday the male community of the villagers were given a holiday from their work, and a s.h.i.+lling was the reward for every man who made his appearance at the eleven o'clock service; needless to say, it was well attended.

Another church (Newport Pagnell, Bucks) in an adjoining county--probably some years previous to this date--was lighted by tallow candles stuck in tin sconces on the walls, and twice during the service the clerk went round with a pair of long-handled snuffers to ”smitch,” as he called it, the wicks of these evil-smelling lights.

For his own better accommodation he had a candle all to himself stuck in a bottle, which he lighted when about to sing a hymn, and with candle in one hand and book in the other, and both held at arm's length, he would bellow most l.u.s.tily and with reason, for he was supposed to lead the singing. This finished he would blow out his candle with most audible vigour, and every one in his neighbourhood would have their handkerchiefs ready to drop their noses into.

This same clerk also took up his stand by the chancel steps with a black rod in his hand, and with tremendous importance marched in front of the rector down the aisle to the vestry under the belfry, and waited outside while the clergyman changed his surplice for a black ca.s.sock, then escorted him again to the pulpit stairs.