The Parish Clerk

by P. H. Ditchfield

Dr. Macray, of the Bodleian Library, has discovered the draft of a licence granted by Dr. John Mountain, Bishop of London, to Thomas Dickenson, parish clerk of Waltham Holy Cross, in the year 1621, permitting him to read prayers, church women, and bury the dead. This licence states that the parish of Waltham Holy Cross was very spacious, many houses being a long distance from the church, and that the curate was very much occupied with his various duties of visiting the sick, burying the dead, churching women, and other business belonging to his office; hence permission is granted to Thomas Dickenson to assist the curate in reading prayers in church, burying dead corpses, and to church women in the absence of the curate, or when the curate cannot conveniently perform the same duty in his own person.

Doubtless this licence was no solitary exception, and it is fairly certain that other clerks enjoyed the same privileges which are here assigned to Master Thomas Dickenson. He must have been a worthy member of his class, a man of education, and of skill and ability in reading, or episcopal sanction would not have been given to him to perform these important duties.

It is evident that parish clerks occasionally at least performed several important clerical functions with the consent of, or in the absence of the incumbents, and that in spite of the articles in the visitations of some bishops who were opposed to this practice, episcopal sanction was not altogether wanting.

The affection with which the parishioners regarded the clerk is evidenced in many ways. He received from them many gifts in kind and money, such as eggs and cakes and sheaves of corn. Some of them were demanded in early times as a right that could not be evaded; but the compulsory payment of such goods was abolished, and the parishioners willingly gave by courtesy that which had been deemed a right.

Sometimes land has been left to the clerk in order that he may ring the curfew-bell, or a bell at night and early morning, so that travellers may be warned lest they should lose their way over wild moorland or bleak down, and, guided by the sound of the bell, may reach a place of safety.

An old lady once lost her way on the Lincolnshire wolds, nigh Boston, but was guided to her home by the sound of the church bell tolling at night. So grateful was she that she bequeathed a piece of land to the parish clerk on condition that he should ring one of the bells from seven to eight o'clock each evening during the winter months.

There is a piece of land called "Curfew Land" at St. Margaret's-at-Cliffe, Kent, the rent of which was directed to be paid to the clerk or other person who should ring the curfew every evening in order to warn travellers lest they should fall over the cliff, as the unfortunate donor of the land did, for want of the due and constant ringing of the bell.

In smuggling days, clerks, like many of their betters, were not immaculate. The venerable vicar of Worthing, the Rev. E. K. Elliott, records that the clerk of Broadwater was himself a smuggler, and in league with those who throve by the illicit trade. When a cargo was expected he would go up to the top of the spire, which afforded a splendid view of the sea, and when the coast was clear of preventive officers he would give the signal by hoisting a flag. Kegs of contraband spirits were frequently placed inside two huge tombs which have sliding tops, and which stand near the western porch of Worthing church.

The last run of smuggled goods in that neighbourhood was well within the recollection of the vicar, and took place in 1855. Some kegs were taken to Charman Dean and buried in the ground, and although diligent search was made, the smugglers baffled their pursuers.

At Soberton, Hants, there is an old vault near the chancel door. Now the flat stone is level with the ground; but in 1800 it rested on three feet of brickwork, and could be lifted off by two men. Here many kegs of spirit that paid no duty were deposited by an arrangement with the clerk, and the stone lifted on again. This secret hiding-place was never discovered, neither did the curate find out who requisitioned his horse when the nights favoured smugglers.