The night was two hours old,—no moon, no stars,—it was deeply dark and murkily cloudy, and—but never mind all that! Anon, up cometh the troop of youngsters, whispering laughter, and saying "Hush!" to each other, as they approach the camp of the enemy. Little thought they, as they marched along, each laden with his pocket of pebbles, of the sore discomfiture which had been planned for them by the foe! Clerk Spurr, that signal warrior of the implement with prongs, had planted himself, firelock on shoulder, eye full of aim, and heart full of valour, close by the usual point of attack. The besiegers halt,—and, in a moment, a shower of gravel gravelleth their enemy; but loud as was the war-cry of their tiny voices, above it rose the booming thunder of the "Parson's Clerk's" grand double-barrelled gun,—and woeful was the effect thereof!!! The shot or the wadding,—the manuscript sayeth not which—had entered,—not the brains, nor, even, the hats of the juvenile assailants,—but—but—the church windows! Away scampered the youngsters,—every mother's son feeling whether his head was off or on,—and yelling, till every cottage door in the neighbourhood was thrown open, and lights were brought out in alarm! Down tumbled the old coloured glass from the ancient mullions, rattling on the tomb-stones beneath, and sounding like curses on sacrilege in the ears of the affrighted hero of the gun and the hayfork! His weapon dropped,—for he was panic-struck! The churchwardens brought a bill against him for the repair of the church-windows: he refused to pay: was brought before the Lincoln county magistrates for recovery; and the hero of the hayfork had to "fork out" seven shillings and sixpence for his freak! The Stow rustics grinned from ear to ear, nodded approbation of the sentence, and spread mirth and fun when they reached home with the news; but the reverend successor of the ancient episcopal potencies was sorely grieved at heart when he heard of this repetition of defeat for his chosen and chop-fallen ejaculator of amens.
As for the grand Perpetual Curate himself, his personal troubles and griefs, and the uninterrupted continuation thereof, would require volumes for full narration. Suffice it to say, ere we bring this exalted record to an end, that, in the profundity of his wisdom, he resorted to multitudinous devices of apostolical character, after the defeats at law that have been heretofore noted. During ten successive Sundays he resorted to a most novel course of Christianity, closing the service after merely reading a few of the "Sentences,"—or, in addition, a few words of the "Absolution,"—and then, leaving his flock to find their way to heaven as they might. The legitimate "Parish Clerk" would come into his desk pretty early; then would come in the "Parson's Clerk;" and, lastly, the parson would walk into his desk, and commence reading after the following unique method:—
"When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive.——William Middleton! I charge you to come out of that seat, and let the clerk come in peaceably and quietly!"
The poor "Parish Clerk," meanwhile, would make no answer; but full meekly, and in the spirit of his vocation, would hold his peace. Again the parson would proceed:—
"Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry places to——William Middleton! if you do not come out of that seat, and cease interrupting me in my duty, I shall conclude the service!"
And then would he close the book,—the poor "Parish Clerk" answering not a word,—and, walking to the communion-table, give a couple of parish alms-loaves to such as he chose to call—usually his own clerk, for one,—and then,—and then,—in the spirit of Jewel and Latimer, and the rest of the tireless and devoted exemplars of his religion, would he quit the consecrated edifice, and leave the congregation to finish by themselves,—or disperse, which of course they preferred to do, after witnessing these apostolical exhibitions. One more relation of the subtle and profound devices of the immortal and Perpetual Curate, ere we come to an end.
Vexed, teased, troubled, and circumvented, as he was, it came to pass that, in the plenitude of his mortified and yet haughty reflections, the successor of purple prelates bethought him that it was not seemly for the rebellious herdsmen, ploughmen, and other rustics of low degree, wherewith he was surrounded, to walk daily over the "consecrated ground" of the churchyard, in the ancient footpath. The more he thought of it the more he shuddered at it; that a number of rude rebels, with their heretical and sacrilegious feet, should tread daily on ground which had been "consecrated" in the hallowed mists of dateless antiquity, by mitred magnates, before whose uplifted crosier kings had lowered their sceptres, and mailed barons trembled and turned pale. It was not to be permitted: the magnanimous Perpetual Curate resolved to root out such impious sacrilege from the face of the earth; and immediately fastened up the gates of the said ancient footpath with strong locks and chains; yea, planted goodly young trees in the line of road hitherto trodden by unworthy and rebellious rustics. Nay, more, conceiving that even the remembrance of every grandmother and great-grandfather of such a stiff-necked generation should be obliterated, his high-minded Reverence gave order that all the hillocks over the graves should be laid low, and the whole churchyard be levelled!
But now the grand priest had reached a climax, in the judgment of his parishioners; and now arose the mighty wrath of the people,—that barrier which hath so often stood before proud priests,—yea, and will so stand again,—seeming to bear on its front, "Thus far shall ye go, and no further, and here shall your proud wills be stayed!" A parishioner, whose purse was lined with a store of guineas to back his resolution, avowed that the Perpetual Curate, if he caused to be touched a single clod that covered the ashes of his, the parishioner's, forefathers, should have his clerical cup sweetened with all the sugar that could be purchased for him in a court of law; and, lo! the successor of the prelates of Sidnacester rescinded his "order" for levelling the quiet graves of the dead!
Nor long did the other late devices of his canonical wisdom stand. The urchins of the parish contrived to slip slily over the churchyard wall, and to break down the newly-planted trees; and, at length, one parishioner, having conversed with Sir John Barleycorn at Gainsborough market, and being strongly advised by that notable counsellor of courage to set the proud parson at nought, and "break his bonds asunder," rushed to the churchyard gates, as soon as he arrived at his native village, and smiting at locks and chains, as if he had been Samson before Gaza, burst his way valiantly through,—and, thereafter, did the sacrilegious feet of every rebel rustic again press the path of their forefathers, without let or impediment! Such are the sovereign achievements of the magisterial "people," when engaged in the assertion of their time-hallowed "rights!" What are the acts of emperors compared therewith?
And now come we to the final "action" in this concatenation of litigation, one that gave consternation to the poor "parish clerk," be it understood. We have spoken of the "actions" at the first Kirton Sessions; namely, the Perpetual Curate versus the Female Ambuscaders, and the Perpetual Curate versus the Cudgellers in the dark: then spoke we of the "action" at the next sessions, Clerk Spurr, the Parson's Clerk, v. Clerk William Middleton, the son of Clerk Gervase, the Parish Clerk: then of the petit "action" before the Gainsborough Justices—Ellis v. Skill: then of the greater "action" at assize—Skill v. Ellis: then of the "action" before the Lincoln magistrates for recovery of value for broken church-windows—the Churchwardens of Stow v. the Parson's Clerk: lastly, of the threatened action by the parishioner of the long purse, which the Perpetual Curate avoided by rescinding his presumptuous "order" for levelling the graves:—but now come we to the final "action"—the action of actions: that to which all the rest formed but a petty preface: that wherein the Perpetual Curate departing from all by-ways of attack, undisguisedly assumed a position of legal and spiritual antagonism against the foe whom he esteemed as the chief author of his ills, the disturber of his projected schemes, that would, so many months before, have issued in subjugating the rebels, and consuming heresy in his parish,—against the old, hereditary, gentle, moral, upright parish clerk, Clerk William Middleton, the son of Clerk Gervase.