The Parish Clerk | Page 2

edition of _The Parish Clerk's Book_,
published by the Henry Bradshaw Society, Dr. Atchley's Parish Clerk
and his Right to Read the Liturgical Epistle (Alcuin Club Tracts), and
other works, give much information with regard to the antiquity of the
office, and to the duties of the clerk of mediæval times; and from these
books I have derived much information. By the kindness of many
friends and of many correspondents who are personally unknown to me,
I have been enabled to collect a large number of anecdotes,
recollections, facts, and biographical sketches of many clerks in
different parts of England, and I am greatly indebted to those who have
so kindly supplied me with so much valuable information. Many of the
writers are far advanced in years, when the labour of putting pen to
paper is a sore burden. I am deeply grateful to them for the trouble
which they kindly took in recording their recollections of the scenes of
their youth. I have been much amused by the humorous stories of old
clerkly ways, by the _facetiæ_ which have been sent to me, and I have
been much impressed by the records of faithful service and devotion to
duty shown by many holders of the office who won the esteem and
affectionate regard of both priest and people. It is impossible for me to
publish the names of all those who have kindly written to me, but I
wish especially to thank the Rev. Canon Venables, who first suggested
the idea of this work, and to whom it owes its conception and
initiation[1]; to the Rev. B.D. Blyn-Stoyle, to Mr. F.W. Hackwood, the
Rev. W.V. Vickers, the Rev. W. Selwyn, the Rev. E.H. L. Reeve, the
Rev. W.H. Langhorne, Mr. E.J. Lupson, Mr. Charles Wise, and many
others, who have taken a kindly interest in the writing of this book. I
have also to express my thanks to the editors of the Treasury and of

_Pearson's Magazine_ for permission to reproduce portions of some of
the articles which I contributed to their periodicals, to the editor of
_Chambers's Journal_ for the use of an article on some north-country
clerics and their clerks by a writer whose name is unknown to me, and
to the Rev. J. Gaskell Exton for sending to me an account of a
Yorkshire clerk which, by the kindness of the editor of the Yorkshire
Weekly Post, I am enabled to reproduce.
[Footnote 1: Since the above was written, and while this book has been
passing through the press, the venerable clergyman, Canon Venables,
has been called away from earth. A zealous parish priest, a voluminous
writer, a true friend, he will be much missed by all who knew him.
Some months ago he sent me some recollections of his early days, of
the clerks he had known, and his reflections on his long ministry, and
these have been recorded in this book, and will now have a pathetic
interest for his many friends and for all who admired his noble, earnest,
and strenuous life.]

THE PARISH CLERK

CHAPTER I
OLD-TIME CHOIRS AND PARSONS
A remarkable feature in the conduct of our modern ecclesiastical
services is the disappearance and painless extinction of the old parish
clerk who figured so prominently in the old-fashioned ritual dear to the
hearts of our forefathers. The Oxford Movement has much to answer
for! People who have scarcely passed the rubicon of middle life can
recall the curious scene which greeted their eyes each Sunday morning
when life was young, and perhaps retain a tenderness for old abuses,
and, like George Eliot, have a lingering liking for nasal clerks and
top-booted clerics, and sigh for the departed shades of vulgar errors.
Then and now--the contrast is great. Then the hideous Georgian
"three-decker" reared its monstrous form, blocking out the sight of the
sanctuary; immense pews like cattle-pens filled the nave. The
woodwork was high and panelled, sometimes richly carved, as at

Whalley Church, Lancashire, where some pews have posts at the
corners like an old-fashioned four-posted bed. Sometimes two feet
above the top of the woodwork there were brass rods on which slender
curtains ran, and were usually drawn during sermon time in order that
the attention of the occupants of the pew might not be distracted from
devout meditations on the preacher's discourse--or was it to woo
slumber? A Berkshire dame rather admired these old-fashioned pews,
wherein, as she naively expressed it, "a body might sleep comfortable
without all the parish knowin' on it."
It was of such pews that Swift wrote in his _Baucis and Philemon_:
"A bedstead of the antique mode, Compact of timber many a load, Such
as our ancestors did use Was metamorphosed into pews; Which still
their ancient nature keep By lodging folks disposed to