A book for a Victorian Christmas £7.99

  

 

 

 

HOW THE VICAR

CAME AND WENT

Victorian Clerical Errors: A Collection

By Tom Hughes

 

Available NOW and exclusively through Amazon.co.uk 

 

 

The vast majority of Victorian vicars, rectors and curates - not to mention the loftier prebendaries, deans and canons - led blameless lives of devoted service to their congregations whether in crowded cities or the most remote corners of the island. They were kind and true to their wives. In their quiet hours, they busied themselves with their bees, books and bells. At their passing, they were much lamented; a few were even worthy of a memorial window.

This little volume, however, recounts the stories of 30 clergymen, accused - and sometimes falsely accused - of crimes and failings, large and small. The headline, "A Clergyman in the Dock," never failed to sell newspapers. “It is wonderful the interest that is taken in the peccadilloes and sins of the cloth and were it the custom to charge admission into our law courts, on such occasions, I am satisfied that the prices might be doubled when a clergyman is the defendant.”

Table of Contents:

• HOW THE VICAR CAME AND WENT
• THE GREAT GLOUCESTERSHIRE HEN CASE
• CHARLES DARWIN AND THE CURATE
• “I MET A VICAR SPRUCE AND GAY”
• A TUTOR OF YOUR BASTARDS
• A HAMPTON COURT SCANDAL
• A CLERGYMAN WANTING IN “ORDINARY HUMANITY”
• THE VICAR AND HIS HOUSEMAID
• AN EXTREMELY HEART-RENDING CASE OF SEDUCTION
• OUR MARRIAGE HAS BEEN A MISTAKE
• VILE MACHINATIONS
• OPIUM WASHED DOWN WITH WINE
• A BIT DESPOTIC
• A CRUEL AND HEARTLESS VILLAIN
• SO SQUALID A SCANDAL
• AN OUTRAGE TO SOCIETY
• A CLERGYMAN’S WAYWARD FOOT
• THE PRODIGAL FATHER
• A BESIEGED CLERGYMAN
• THE BLACKEST CRIMINAL I HAVE EVER SEEN
• IN A VICARAGE FOR “IMMORAL PURPOSES”
• NO PEACE IN FYFIELD
• A CURATE IN THE FOOTLIGHTS
• THE PARSON’S LADY FRIEND
• THE TORMARTON MENAGERIE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Tom Hughes is (to his knowledge) not related to the Rev. Thomas Hughes, the bigamous Victorian clergyman denounced from the bench as the “blackest criminal” of the day. The story of the Rev. Mr. Hughes and the other clerics in this book have been culled from an unrivalled database of clerical scandals and sensations.

Contact: victorianga@aol.com

The collection includes stories from Birmingham, £££Brentford, Bristol, Cheltenham, Derby, Downe, Ealing, Eastleach Martin, Fyfield, Germansweek, Hampton-in-Arden, Hereford, Leeds, Manchester, Semer, Slough, Syde, West Haddon, Wilmington, and, of course, London.

Previously published:

Blame it on the Devon Vicar (Halsgrove 2008); Blame it on the Norfolk Vicar (Halsgrove 2008)

Clerical Errors, A Victorian Series - Vol. 1 (Amazon, 2016); Vol. 2 (Amazon, 2017)

I Met a Vicar Spruce and Gay

Birmingham's New St Station (wikipedia)

In 1855, the "infamous Alice Grey" fascinated the English public. A charming con-woman, she could be found weeping in railroad stations or hotel lobbies. "Her trunks and purses were constantly being stolen, leaving her stranded without a penny." She cadged money, train tickets, meals, and perhaps more. "Her pretty face, her white skin, delicate colour, and soft voice, were great assistants to her pitiable tales." Numerous men admitted to being gulled by her in a trail that crossed Scotland and England. The most embarrassing case was surely that of the Rev. Joseph Ashby Morris, vicar of Hampton-in-Arden, near Birmingham.

In October, Alice was arrested in Wolverhampton. Her story was that a man she met in Birmingham gave her £4 and told her to take a room in Wolverhampton where he'd visit her. In Birmingham, police recalled a woman matching her description walking from the station with a gentleman. The story got more interesting when the generous gentleman was found to be a clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Morris. 

Before the magistrates and a large crowd, Alice told her story. She met the vicar at Birmingham station with her usual story: her cases and purse were missing and she needed to get to Liverpool. Since there was time, he offered her a meal. Alice said he took her to a coffee-house, ordered brandy and became quite amorous, to the point they were asked to leave. They moved on to a spirit shop where they each had three glasses of wine. The Liverpool train was due so he gave her the £4 and arranged to meet in Wolverhampton. 

The Rev. Morris was 55, married and had been at St. Mary & St Bart's in Hampton since 1841. He was in court, with his wife, and heard Alice's evidence. He took the stand to "indignantly" deny all. He did meet her in Birmingham, weeping with a tale of stolen bags. "Out of compassion," the vicar swore, he took her to a temperance coffee house for tea and ham, no more. When she appeared ready to faint, he called for brandy. He had no spirits that evening. The landlady did ask them to leave because the room was needed for a meeting. Alice was allowed to question the witness. Didn't he talk of 9000 kisses? He never said that. Alice claimed the landlady was disgusted by their behaviour and said her house was no place for a "whore and her whoremaster." Nonsense, Morris replied. He swore he never gave her anything but a shilling. As Morris stepped down, she shouted, "You're a bright ornament to the gown!"

On that day in question, railway police had seen Alice talking with Morris at 4:40. The vicar's wife testified he was home by 6:10, taking the 5:35 train. Hardly the time needed for Alice's long and boozy seduction story. She was remanded and made several more appearances in court. Rev. Morris stayed away, on doctor's orders to avoid "excitement." Eventually, Alice was found guilty on multiple charges and sentenced to five years at London's Milbank  jail.  

Rev. Morris sued the Staffordshire Sentinel for publishing some jailhouse doggerel supposedly written by Alice Grey. Excerpts:

One evening by the railway station, I met a vicar spruce and gay,
Who got with me in conversation, And then invited me to tea...
Four pounds he gave me then with pleasure to buy a suit of muslin fine,
And bade me come and sit at leisure, where we could have a glass of wine
A minute found us in the palace, where there was a pleasant fire.
Sealing all we said with kisses, drinking all we could desire. 

The suit was dropped when the publisher expressed great sorrow for inadvertently printing the verse. Rev. Morris remained vicar in Hampton-in-Arden (below) until his death in 1866. As for Alice, some claim she died young, others say she was eventually assisted to emigrate by the Prisoners’ Aid Society. 

The Prodigal Father

St. Mark’s Church was built in the early 1870s in Sunderland’s Millfield section, a growing working-class area. The Rev. William Proctor Swaby came to the vicarage in 1881. Swaby’s story was interesting. He was raised by his mother, helping to support her by being a teacher in Tetney, their village in Lincolnshire. He went to university in Durham where he was a leading athlete and scholar and, finishing his studies, was ordained in 1871. His first parish was in the mining community of Ryhope. Since coming to Sunderland, Swaby was credited with establishing St. Mark’s as a “model parish.” He served on the Sunderland School Board and oversaw the Boys and Girls High Schools. He was a gifted preacher and much in demand. His sermons were published. His income amounted to about £800. So, why was his father on the dole?

In 1891, Rev. Swaby received a summons from the Shardlow Board of Guardians in Derbyshire asking why he should not contribute to the maintenance of his 70-year old father who was presently receiving outdoor relief in the village of Long Eaton. The vicar replied by mail declining the summons. He was, firstly, not satisfied the man called Joseph Swaby was his father. And, even if he was, why should he have to support a man who abandoned him as a child, leaving three boys and their mother? For more than 40 years, William had supported himself and his mother “without the least assistance” from his missing father.

This “remarkable and romantic story” received a good deal of attention. The Rev. Swaby, of course, would have to come to Derby County Hall to confront the guardians. He was the last of his family, as far as he knew. Both his brothers were dead. His mother was dead and she'd always told him that his father died of the cholera in 1846. Until this summons, Swaby had no reason to believe otherwise and had made no effort to find his pater. 

At the hearing, an elderly Tetney man swore to Joseph Swaby’s identity. Then, the prodigal father took the stand. He was born in Tetney, trained as a joiner. In 1846, he went to Grimsby to find work. He never returned. His wife, Rebecca, “preferred” another man, so he left her with him. For a while, he followed his son’s clerical career but had lost touch. Then, he saw a newspaper report about a sermon given by a Rev. Swaby in Tetney and he knew that had to be his son. When a guardian challenged him for not making any effort to contact his son or family for more than forty years, Swaby answered, “It doesn’t matter now.”

The elder Swaby, the guardians also learned, had re-married; his second wife was only in her 30s, and they had three children! While his step-mother et al were not the Rev. Swaby’s concern, his father was, the board decided. The clergyman would have to contribute 1 shilling, sixpence per week (less than £4 per year.) The guardians wanted to make clear that they did not hold the Rev. Swaby responsible in any way for his father’s plight. “There never was a prosecution in which the accused succeeded more effectually in clearing himself from unworthy aspersions.”

There was no happy family reunion. The Rev. Swaby returned to Sunderland, sending his weekly payments. In 1893, he left England, accepting the appointment as Colonial Bishop of British Guiana. In Derbyshire, the public was informed that “the Bishop will continue to contribute weekly towards his father’s support.” How long the payments continued cannot be known but Joseph Swaby lived another 15 years. The Rev. Swaby remained abroad; he died in 1916 soon after being appointed Archbishop of the West Indies. 

How the Vicar Came and Went is the new collection of Victorian Clerical Errors and is available exclusively from amazon.co.uk.  

Rev. Swaby's photo copyright The Bridgeman Collection.

 

The Foote Business.

All Saints, Clevedon

There were numerous feuds between Victorian vicars and squires but few led to as much litigation as "the Foote business." The Rev. John Vicars Foote (sometimes Foot) arrived in East Clevedon in 1886 to be the new vicar of All Saints church. Nearby, at the old and splendid Clevedon Court, lived Sir Edmund Elton, a church patron and wealthy baronet who is more famous today as an inventor and pottery artist. All was pleasant at first; in fact, in 1888, the Rev. Foote married Sir Edmund's niece. The honeymoon couple left on a lengthy European tour. In their absence, everything went sideways.

While Foote was away, his curate, the Rev. Frazer officiated. The story is that the Eltons took well to Mr. Frazer in their pulpit. So much so that, on his return, Foote felt slighted. Soon, he sent a letter to Sir Edmond saying Mr. Frazer was a "confirmed drunkard" and given the sack. Sir Edmund gave that letter to Frazer who sued Rev. Foote for libel and won £300! The case was heard nearby at the Bristol Assizes and Rev. Foote believed that "Elton influence" had been employed against him. 

Meanwhile, a new curate arrived in Clevedon, the Rev. Samuel Church. When first offered the job, he'd heard about "the Foote business" and wrote to Sir Edmond. He received a letter from Clevedon Court suggesting that if the truth were to come out, it would be very unpleasant for the Rev. Foote. Sir Edmond added, "I could not conscientiously do anything that could possibly imply approval of Mr. Foote’s course of action.”

It was the vicar's turn to sue Sir Edmund, this time in London. Foote said he had been persecuted for more than a year. Sir Edmond's libelous letter contained a grievous imputation against him and was written with malicious intent. In the witness box, Foote admitted threatening to "excommunicate" both Sir Edmond and Lady Elton. He spurned her charitable gifts to the church. He told others about a "scandalous incident" in Sir Edmond's past, which turned out to be an occasion when Sir Edmond got in a railway carriage scuffle with a smoker. The jury took less than an hour to find a verdict for Sir Edmond.

Within minutes, Justice Hawkins called a second case: the Rev. Foote had also sued the Rev. Robert Lawson, the former vicar of East Clevedon for slander. Lawson had told prospective curate Church that, "Foote is a contemptible cad and blackguard whom neither Sir Edmond or Lady Elton would touch with the end of a barge pole." Lawson, on the stand, said he regretted the barge pole comment, calling it stronger language than was required, but it was substantively true. Lawson's counsel - who was paid for by (wait for it) Sir Edmond, argued that the comment was not directed at Mr. Foote, the clergyman, but Mr. Foote, the person, and the jury quickly agreed.

At Clevedon station, a large crowd was waiting to cheer the returning Rev. Lawson and Sir Edmond. "Scores of willing hands" pulled the baronet's carriage to Clevedon Court.

The Rev Foote remained in Clevedon, achieving some (temporary) rapprochement with the Eltons. He resigned in 1899 after a dispute with his Bishop over questions of ritual. Many years after the clergyman's death, with the 1994 publication of The Annals of the Elton Family, a writer contended: "Foote was a devious and unscrupulous character. Though eloquent and urbane, he was, unknown to his patrons, addicted to heroin."

How the Vicar Came and Went, a collection of Victorian clerical scandals and quarrels, is available exclusively at amazon.co.uk. 

Photo credit: Philip Halling / All Saints' Church, East Clevedon / CC BY-SA 2.0

The Peeress and the Parson

Elvaston Castle (derbyshire.gov.uk}

Elvaston Castle, the Derbyshire seat of the Earls of Harrington, has been described as “perhaps the most remarkable place in England.” Charles Stanhope, the 4th Earl, succeeded his father in 1829. Charles was a "Regency buck" known for collecting snuff boxes. And actresses. In 1831, he married Maria Foote, a sometime stage performer and notorious courtesan. As the new countess would never be accepted in respectable society, Charles and Maria retreated behind their castle gates. 

The Earl permitted few visitors. He forbade his wife to leave the Castle. To amuse her, he expended a fortune on the Castle and grounds. On those grounds stood St. Bartholomew’s Church. In 1841, a new vicar arrived, the Rev. Frederick Nathaniel Highmore. Despite the "scandals," the young clergyman was not judgmental and soon won the affection of his patrons at the castle. The peer and parson got along famously. Rev and Mrs Highmore, the villagers said, enjoyed the castle's hospitality, i.e. lavish dinners and card parties, "rollicking times." It was, therefore, a sad day at the vicarage when the 4th Earl passed away in 1851. He left no legitimate male heir and the title passed to his brother, Leicester Stanhope. The 5th earl soon arrived with his wife, now the Countess Elizabeth, a “noted beauty" of London society. The new Earl and his wife, however, were of a very different mindset. They held strong temperance views. It soon became clear that the days of comity between church and castle had ended.

The Rev. Mr. Highmore actually left Elvaston for three years, ostensibly for his health. A succession of curates filled in, none of whom pleased the Castle. Upon Mr. Highmore’s return to Elvaston, there were new disagreements over plans to rehabilitate St. Bart’s church and how to run the village school. By 1857, the vicar was persona non grata at Elvaston Castle.  

About that time, the Rev. T.J. Jones, fresh from school, arrived to be Mr. Highmore’s newest curate. He was, of course, invited to the Castle for tea. The Countess was eager to hear him preach but she would only come to St. Bart’s if Mr. Jones was officiating. She confided in the young curate that the vicar was a “wicked fellow.” She knew what went on at the vicarage (Thurlaston Grange) and how they were “drunks rolling on the floor.” But Jones had dined at the Highmores and found them pleasant. The Countess answered: “If you go to those Highmores, you will not be welcomed at the Castle.” Jones relayed this to the vicar and the Rev. Highmore sued her Ladyship for slander.

The Vicarage (Thurlaston Grange) historicengland.org.uk

At the Derby Assizes in June 1857, the Rev Mr Jones recounted his meetings with the Countess. She told him that neither she nor her husband would take communion from the vicar because of his wickedness. "He is a low & vulgar fellow, a drunk, and he has encouraged card-playing, gambling & debauchery in the village." Jones was told that Highmore and his wife were “constantly rolling drunk on the floor.” She further accused Highmore of being "unduly familiar” with his female servants and "pocketing" money from the church restoration fund. 

In his turn, the Rev. Mr. Highmore told the jury that he had enjoyed a decade with the 4th Earl but ever since the arrival of the 5th, he'd been snubbed. In fact, he couldn't recall speaking a single word to the Countess. But she had spoken about him and it was time for her "persecution" to end. Under questioning from the defendant's counsel, Highmore admitted that he had taken a lengthy leave of absence from Elvaston for his health, endangered by the harsh Derbyshire winters. Pressed, he conceded that he once had an overfondness for “stimulating drink.” But he had been sober for seven years.  

The vicar admitted finding temporary curates was not easy and he removed the bad ones as soon as he could. As for his theft from the building fund, it was all over £10. With a crumbling tower and rising damp, he spent where it was needed most. His books were open to anyone for inspection. 

The public gallery was packed; folks eager to hear the Countess who did not deny her views on the vicar of Elvaston. Still, she insisted that Mr. Jones, an inexperienced cleric, had completely exaggerated her remarks. She never described the Highmores as “drunks rolling on the floor.” But one of the departed curates, an apparent dipsomaniac, had been seen in such a state. As for the vicar's "debauchery," she found his card playing to be very sinful and a horrible example in the village. Card-playing had not been allowed in the Castle since the late Earl’s death.

The Countess would also face cross-examination. She denied meddling in school affairs although she disapproved of the vicar's laissez-faire discipline. She did not shout down the schoolmistress, but thought the woman was a "virago." The most serious charge was that the Lady Harrington had spread gossip that Mr. Highmore “kept” a servant (Ellen Wilson) as his mistress, they regularly met for “bad purposes.” The Countess disavowed ever saying it, laying it at the feet of "her enemies."  

The jurymen quickly found for the Rev. Mr. Highmore and the Countess was ordered to pay £750. (£100,000 today!). She appealed claiming the damages were excessive. But Lord Chief Justice Cockburn (a bit of a lad, himself) turned her down: "Looking at the destructive and fatal tendency of the imputations cast upon the plaintiff as a clergyman and a gentleman, the damages are anything but excessive." Of course, the money would come from her husband, the 5th Earl, a quiet figure throughout it all. Poor chap; he was "one of the mildest and most benevolent men of our time." 

The Rev. Highmore remained in Elvaston until his death in 1873. His nemesis, the Countess, lost both her husband and her son in the 1860s and Elvaston Castle passed out of her branch of the family.  

Reminder: HOW THE VICAR CAME AND WENT is available exclusively from amazon.co.uk.

Indecent Familiarities at St. Paul's Cray

 Archaeologia Cantiana 1889

In North Kent lies the small village of Paul's Cray; the ancient church of St. Paul, though now redundant, is picturesquely set along a little stream, "called by courtesy a river." It was never a large parish but, in the 1850s, the rectory was quite spacious. Residing therein were the Rev. Edmond Roberts, his wife Eliza Anne, their six living children, several servants and eight teenage boys, as the rector supplemented his income with a small school. To assist with the latter, 20-year old James Mowat, a young man preparing to go up to Cambridge was taken on as a teacher. Alas, Mr. Roberts soon had reason to believe that his wife of 17 years had formed a questionable attachment with young Mowat; in fact, their “indecent familiarities were the common talk of the servants.” 

In 1854, the first English Divorce Court was still a few years away. Thus, the Rev. Roberts appeared before the ecclesiastical tribunal, the Court of Arches, in Canterbury. Roberts told Sir John Dodson the signs of his wife's misconduct were everywhere. She had no interest in the school until Mowat came. Suddenly she took long walks in the country, arm in arm with the young tutor. Some of the boys claimed they saw them kissing. The butler reported finding Mrs. Roberts and Mowat in the locked library; the keyhole in the door was stuffed with paper. It must be said, however, the rector was not the most attentive husband, making long visits to Brighton and Ireland. In his absence, he got word that Mowat had moved into the dressing room adjacent to Mrs. Roberts' bedroom. Eliza Anne had a female companion but Roberts alleged that she was their confederate, leaving the two alone, passing their letters when apart and doing nothing when the two "by mistake" spent several nights at a lodging house in Bath where Mrs. Roberts posed as Mowat's cousin. On another occasion, Mrs. Roberts had been traced to London, staying in the same lodgings as Mowat. Confronted by the evidence, she blandly denied it. After the rector saw his wife boldly emerge from young Mowat's room, "the separation of the parties thereupon took place." 

Eliza Anne Roberts contradicted her husband's jealous obsessions. Mowat arrived in Cray in delicate health and spirits. Her husband had worked the youth quite hard; she felt it was her role to provide some tenderness. Mowat's father was a well-known Wesleyan minister and his son's plan to join the Anglican church had caused a family upheaval. She helped him through that, with long conversations and long walks - at doctor's orders. She denied the schoolboy gossip, the library story, and while together in Bath, they stayed in separate inns. There was medical evidence that she was occasionally erratic and confused about dates and places. She also insisted that she had slept with her husband for some time after he dated their separation which raised the question - had he condoned her misconduct?

The rector's counsel admitted there was no proof, no time or place, of the adultery but there was enough evidence of Mrs. Roberts' indecent familiarities that the court could infer that she "might" have done it. But her lawyers suggested it was quite improbable that a previously unimpeachable woman, twice Mowat's age, having borne nine children, could suddenly abandon herself in such fashion. The rector's evidence entirely failed to prove that any adultery had occurred.

The Arches judge took nearly a month to rule; he found enough evidence of "proximate acts" that if the opportunity had been afforded (in London, Bath or the rectory), adultery would have been committed. He granted the divorce; Mrs. Roberts' subsequent appeal was denied. 

The scandal in Cray forced the Rev. Roberts to resign and close his school. He became rector in Dorset (Wootton Glanville) but died a few months later. He was just 47. Mr. Mowat did go on to Cambridge and was ordained in 1860. After many years as a college don, The Rev. Mr. Mowat was married and served as rector of Handsworth in Yorkshire. Mowat did not marry Eliza Anne Roberts; she cannot be traced. 

My new collection of stories, HOW THE VICAR CAME AND WENT, is available now and exclusively at amazon.co.uk. 

The Great Gloucestershire Hen Case

In a remote corner of the Cotswolds lie the twin villages of Eastleach Martin and Eastleach Turville. "Few places are less known," wrote the Rev. William Herbert Thomas Wright. The villages are divided by the narrow River Leach, spilling south to join the Thames at Lechlade. The Victorian population was barely 500 but there were two 13th century churches, one on each side of the river: St. Michael & St. Martin, Eastleach Martin (pictured) and St. Andrew's, Eastleach Turville. In 1888, the Rev. Mr. Wright was curate-in-charge of both, residing in Eastleach Martin. 

A great snow fell in the west of England that February. Village lads were hired to dig out roads and footpaths. 19-year old Jim Smith was trudging home when he found a black hen, all but frozen dead in a snowbank. He placed the bird inside his jacket and, when he reached the village, sold the revived bird to his friend, Richard Blackwell, for two shillings. If anyone claimed the hen, they would give it back. Meantime, as in the nursery rhyme, "Hickety-pickety, my black hen, she lays eggs for gentlemen. Sometimes nine, sometimes ten. Hickety-pickety, my black hen."

That May, Rev. Wright got information that Blackwell's hen might be his. He made enquiries and then went to Fairford to make a formal charge. Two constables arrived. Young Blackwell said he'd paid Jim Smith 2 bob for the hen. A nervous Smith "couldn't remember" but soon admitted "finding" the bird. On a Sunday morning, the police marched Blackwell and Smith to St. Michael & St. Martin where Rev. Wright was greeting his flock. Would he press charges? Yes, he would. Messrs. Smith and Blackwell were handcuffed in front of everyone and marched four miles to the nick. They were held for three days without visitors before being released to await the Quarter Sessions in July where the charges were dismissed. 

A year later, in the Queen's Bench, London, the young men sued Rev. Wright for false imprisonment and malicious prosecution. The curate insisted he acted reasonably and with probable cause. He left the matter to the police: they arrested, they prosecuted. He said he'd been tipped off by a man named Adams, an unpopular "village busybody." Wright also admitted he hadn't missed the hen for three months. 


The "Great Gloucestershire Hen Case" was heard by a jury of Londoners unfamiliar with barnyard law. Mr. Justice Wills instructed them that the Rev. Wright had the right to recover his missing property. But no felonies had been committed and there was no need for the humiliation of a public arrest and or spending days in gaol. The police were very much at fault but they weren't on trial. The jury found against Rev. Wright. Blackwell got £30, Smith got less, £25.

The Rev. Mr. Wright was forgiven his overzealous detective work. He was quite young. He remained in Eastleach Martin another 40 years, until his death in 1929. He wrote extensively about the Eastleaches. The two churches are still there, although St. Michael & St. Martin is now redundant. The Eastleaches were Betjeman's favourite spot in the Cotswolds. A modern walker's guide describes an "air of quiet perfection." 

This story is one of 30 included in the newly published collection, HOW THE VICAR CAME AND WENT, now for sale at amazon.co.uk.

Church Photo by Oswald Bertram (geograph)

"I Hope I Haven't Offended You."

St. Michael's, Coningsby

Everyone mentions the clock. The world's largest (working) one-hand clock is painted in white on the tower of St. Michael's church in the Lincolnshire village of Coningsby. The local terrain is so flat, the clock can be read from two miles away. The church is 15th century, the clock was added in the 17th. The interior of the church was restored in the Victorian years by the Rev. Mark Garfit, rector in Coningsby from 1863-1872. The Garfits were a numerous and prominent family in the county; well-represented in the banking and clergy professions.

In March 1867, Rev. Garfit had been regularly visiting a bedridden old man who lived in some cottages clustered over the wall behind the rectory paddock. A young couple lived next door: George Baker, a shoemaker, and his young wife, Mary. At the time, however, George was in the parish workhouse. In late March, he was freed and returned home to hear a terrible story from his wife. She told him that Rev. Garfit had called at their cottage, while she was making bread, and urged her to let him have her "just once." Mary said the rector put his hands on her in an indecent way and "pressed me hard against the table, and hurt my body." She resisted and he went away, begging her not to tell anyone.

On 24 March, the Rev. Mr. Garfit got the first letter from George Baker. "My wife has disclosed all. I don't see why I should cloak your sins. It's a disgusting affair." The rector ignored the letter and received a second one, with a demand for £50 or the Bishop would be informed. "You exposed your person and unlawfully took hold of my wife with intent to force her." Baker said he had prepared a circular for the newspapers and to post in the village, entitled, "The Intended Whoredom of the Rev. Mark Garfit, Coningsby, with a Mrs George Baker, of the same place." In several hundred words, Baker related how the rector told Mary Baker that he had taken a liking to her and he would pay her any amount of money to have her just once. She shouldn't worry; the sin would be all his. When she said she would have none of it, he assaulted her. He kissed her roughly and left, saying, "I hope I haven't offended you."

The rector's wife also got a letter. Baker wrote to Mrs. Garfit to say how sorry he was for the scandal but the rector had confessed, offering £20 to end it. The Garfits tried to ignored the Bakers. One day, seeing the rector in the churchyard, George yelled over the wall, "Do you mean to settle this affair?" Getting no response, Baker said he would go to the police.

On 5 May, at the County Court in Lincoln, Mrs. Baker summonsed the rector of Coningsby on a charge of indecent assault. Before the magistrates, she told her story. Under cross-examination, she was challenged on many of the details of her account. She hadn't called out for help because there was no one around. The Bakers, however, lived in a cluster of cottages. Mrs. Coupland, next door, for instance, testified she heard nothing. The Rev. Mr. Garfit denied any such incident had ever taken place. Mr. Tweed, his counsel, called it a blatant effort at extortion by the penniless Bakers. The magistrates unanimously (there were only two and one was a brother clergyman) dismissed the charge against Garfit and declared that he walked out without the "slightest stain" on his character.

Skeptics would say that, of course, posh magistrates, including another clergyman, would side with the accused. Could Garfit have sued Baker for libel or slander? Libel, no. The letters were private and the threatened document was never published. But George Baker was charged with extortion at the Assizes held in Lincoln Castle that July. The rector, under oath, again denied any misconduct with Mrs. Baker. A guilty verdict came quickly. Justice Lush denounced such an infamous crime and George Baker got five years penal servitude. Mary Baker was never charged because, under the legal theory of the time, the wife was presumed to be acting under the direction of her husband.

The Rev. Garfit remained at the rectory in Coningsby until his death in October 1872. 

Dear blog-readers, I call your attention to my new book, HOW THE VICAR CAME AND WENT: A Victorian Collection, now on sale at amazon.co.uk.

Photo: Geograph (Creative Commons)

The Northallerton Scandal

In the vale of York stands the old market town of Northallerton. The ancient parish church of All Saints was much restored in the 1880s by the vicar, the Rev. Benjamin Caffin. The final touch was a magnificent new organ installed in 1887. Though very young, William Musgrove was hired as the new organist & choirmaster. He supplemented his income giving music lessons in the church.

Six years later, in 1893, the 28 year old Musgrove was married and with a family; he moved his wife and children closer to All Saints, letting a small home in West Terrace. The new place, as ever, had a few issues and he employed a neighbour, cabinet-maker John Meynell, to fix some balky windows. A few days later, Musgrove went to pay Meynell but the man wouldn't take a penny. So, Musgrove gave the tradesmen a "few coppers" and off he went to get some beer, leaving Musgrove behind with Mrs. Meynell. And thus the scandal began in the town of Northallerton.

On 22 November, the Rev. Mr. Caffin sent a note insisting the organist come see him immediately. Caffin said there was talk that Musgrove had been "seeing" Mrs. Meynell. A "base lie," the organist declared. By nightfall, however, Musgrove had a letter from the vicar. Caffin found himself in a "painful and perplexing position." He wanted to believe Musgrove but his duty was to the church. Until the rumours were answered, true or false, for Musgrove to continue as the organist would be "a grievous scandal." Musgrove demanded to know his accusers. Caffin refused to be part of any investigation. The musician refused to resign and was dismissed. 

Months later, March 1894, at the West Riding Assizes in Leeds, Musgrove sued the Rev. Caffin for £500. His annual earnings were £120 and the stain on his name made him unemployable. He swore to being with Mrs. Meynell on only two occasions. The first already mentioned and a second time when he dropped off his violin for her husband to repair. It was noted that Musgrove chose not to call either John or Mary Meynell as witnesses. Musgrove acknowledged hearing the talk. His wife told him she'd heard it from the washerwoman. He was subjected to that Yorkshire tradition, "riding the 'stang," a ceremony used to humiliate adulterers. But Musgrove said all that trouble only began after he had been unjustly sacked. He was not seeking vindictive damages against Mr. Caffin but recompense for his lost income and good name.

For the Rev. Caffin's defense, several prominent parishioners, churchwardens and choir members, told the court they had heard that Musgrove - quote - "was seeing Mrs. Meynell for an immoral purpose." Rev. Caffin insisted he never fully believed any of that but acted only because the talk and rumours were "so current" in Northallerton. Justice Lawrence, presiding, intervened to halt the trial. He would direct a verdict for the vicar. Mr. Musgrove, his lordship announced, had been poorly advised; he should have gotten a solicitor, discovered his accusers, and gone after them. He had sued the wrong man. Rev. Caffin was blameless. Lawrence added, "I only wished all clergymen would come out of such matters so well."

In Northallerton, parishioners raised a £100 testimonial to cover the vicar's legal bills. Caffin had received much sympathy; his ailing wife had been made sick with worry during the ordeal. But, sadly, Rev. Caffin came down with a summer cold and pneumonia and died three months after the trial. He was greatly mourned and remembered for his work to restore the old church, including the fund-raising drive to purchase a new organ. 


How the Vicar Came and Went, a new collection of Victorian Clerical Scandals has just been published. Order it here. Thank you.

Photo: Bob Embleton (geograph.org/Creative Commons)

A NEW PAPERBACK COLLECTION!

PUBLICATION DAY: 1 MAY 2020The vast majority of Victorian vicars, rectors and curates - not to mention the loftier prebendaries, deans and canons - led blameless lives of devoted service to their congregations whether in crowded cities or the most remote corners of the island. They were kind and true to their wives. In their quiet hours, they busied themselves with their bees, books and bells. At their passing, they were much lamented; a few were even worthy of a memorial window. On the other hand, there were men like the Rev. Thomas Hughes (no relation - apparently - to the author) who was denounced as "the blackest criminal." This little volume recounts the stories of 30 clergymen, accused - and sometimes falsely accused - of crimes and failings large and small. As one Archbishop of Canterbury deplored, stories such as these "echoed round and round the sky until it seems the air is full of them."Included in this book of thirty stories are:CHARLES DARWIN AND THE CURATE.“I MET A VICAR SPRUCE AND GAY.”AN EXTREMELY HEART-RENDING CASE OF SEDUCTION.A CLERGYMAN’S WAYWARD FOOT.And, ASTOUNDING CHARGES AGAINST A DEAN.
If you do purchase and read the book, please review it on amazon.co.uk and share with friends. Thank you.Please note: COVID19 priorities will mean understandable shipping delays. On the bright side, this is a good read for a lockdown Sunday afternoon.







AVAILABLE
EXCLUSIVELY AT
AMAZON.CO.UK

Cuckoo, Curate, Cuckoo.

Sand Pit Ponies, Sir Alfred Munnings

Stuck at home? Listening for the sound of the spring's first cuckoo?

In April 1876, local newspapers across England would be sure to alert readers when the first call of a cuckoo was heard in their area. The sound of the cuckoo was a welcome first sign of spring. But for the Rev. William Gilmour Minor, the constant cries of "Cuckoo, Cuckoo" had unhinged him.

Ordained at St. Aidan's in Birkenhead in 1868, Minor was one of those itinerant curates of Victorian England. In 1876, he was in his 30's, unmarried and living in South London. He held the position of "Sub-Clergyman" at Lambeth Cemetery in Tooting, presiding at funerals and burials. In his spare time, he worked for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA.) 

Minor's walk to the cemetery each day brought him past a large sandpit on Smallwood Road. One day, he complained to Joseph Martin, the owner of the pit, that one of the pit ponies was lame and plainly unfit for duty. He was told to mind his own business. Minor became quite upset and there was a brief scuffle. Martin demanded the clergyman leave the property and Minor took his exit to the cry of the pit workmen, "Cuckoo. Cuckoo." After that, every day the Rev. Mr. Minor appeared in Smallwood Road, the workmen, soon aided by their families who resided nearby, serenaded the gentleman with cries of "Cuckoo, Cuckoo." Minor went into Wandsworth Police Court seeking "protection from the annoyance of being called cuckoo.” He was advised to walk some other way to the cemetery.

Mr. Minor declined to take that counsel; he was a litigious man, he had been sued and brought suit on more than one occasion. He won £200 from Pickford's, the movers. The situation in Tooting got no better. One day, a small child taunted him with the cuckoo cry. Seeing the child's mother laughing nearby, Minor grabbed the woman by the arm. The next day in Wandsworth, Mrs. Livermore of Smallwood Rd charged the Rev. Minor with assault. He answered that he had been provoked by a woman so wicked that she would encourage her child to use "abusive & insulting language" to a clergyman. Mr. Bridges, the magistrate, dismissed both charges but pleaded with Minor to ignore them, don't make too much out of this. The more you do, the longer the harassment will go on. Bridges said, "It was convenient at times to be a little deaf."

The case of the cuckoo clergyman had now become the talk of London and large crowds of new hecklers waited for their opportunity. At his rooms, dozens of postcards arrived for Minor with a single word message: of course, Cuckoo. Minor was beside himself, "my mind has become affected." He claimed that the respectable residents of Tooting were with him. It's interesting that he does not seem to have gotten any public support from the SPCA. Magistrate Bridges finally announced that if Minor could get the names of any of his tormentors, they would be fined or jailed. Three young men were identified by Minor but the magistrate simply lectured them to knock it off. The pit-owner eventually sued Minor for charges related to that first scuffle and won a mere shilling for his pain and suffering.

Even the jollity of shouting cuckoo at a passing clergyman will wane in London's summer heat and the story soon faded. The police and the courts were well tired of it. Couldn't the Bishop of London find employment for Mr. Minor elsewhere? A new job was found, in fact, this time with a living congregation. Rev. Minor became curate at St. Michael's in Withyham, Sussex. Hopefully, he found peace there. On the bright side, in Sussex dialect, apparently, cuckoos are called gowks.

No Shaking Hands

The church of St. John the Evangelist in Caterham Valley, Surrey, was dedicated in 1882. Work continued into the 1890's on what Pevsner called a "big Somerset tower." The longtime vicar at St. John's, the Rev. J.B. Heard, was quite ill and parish affairs were in the hands of his curate, his son-in-law, the Rev William Benjamin Greer. 

In June 1893, the parish Building Committee met in the vicarage dining room. There had been some friction between Mr. Greer and Arthur Best, a prominent parishioner who'd given nearly £1000 to the building fund. Best had paid for some reredos which he thought the curate had hidden behind a side altar. When Best arrived at the meeting, Greer approached him and, in a loud voice, declared, "Let us shake hands." Best declined. "I will not shake hands with you. I have no respect for you." Matters quickly got physical. "Out you go," Greer proclaimed, grabbing Best by the jacket, dragging him to the door. Other committee members broke up the melee. Greer apologized but claimed provocation. Best refused to accept it. Almost a year later, Best sued the Rev. Mr. Greer for assault and the cost of a new jacket - in all, £300.

Dozens of Caterham residents trained to London to fill the galleries in Justice Hawkins' court when the case was heard in May 1894. Mr. Best was 53, co-owner of a provisions firm in Smithfield Market. He said the reredos had nothing to do with his feelings for the Rev. Greer. Rather, he disapproved of the curate's “general manner and conduct towards ladies." The Caterham crowd began buzzing. Asked to elaborate, Best told the court that the curate was "frivolous & flippant" with the ladies and it was the talk of the parish. Moreover, Best claimed that Mr. Greer spent his Saturday nights at the music halls in London, including the notorious Empire. Is this anyway for a responsible clergyman to prepare for his Sunday responsibilities? As for the dust-up, Best was supported by three committee members who said Greer was the clear aggressor, boasting how - as an undergrad, he'd boxed with professional pugilists.

The defendant, Mr. Greer, was 46 years old, an Irishman educated at U. Dublin. He'd been married 15 years and was his father-in-law's curate. Some in Caterham had used the nepotism word but he'd won their acceptance, especially with the local poor. At the meeting, as he was acting for the vicar, he felt empowered to eject anyone intending to disrupt parish business. The claim that he annoyed the parish ladies was a "foul slander." Looking to the gallery, he demanded to know of any complaints from the ladies of Caterham, young or old. He made no secret that he enjoyed the theatre and he'd recently been to the Palace in Shaftesbury Avenue with his wife. He did not go to the Empire or any of the racy music halls. At the theatre, they never stayed late; in fact, his first Sunday service was not until 11 and was never a problem. He accused Best of trumping up this "ladies" allegation in revenge for their dispute over the reredos. He denied ever calling Mr. Best "the parish bully" but others did.

The case was going over to a second day but Justice Hawkins, a notoriously querulous jurist, denounced both sides for persisting in such "miserable litigation." He ordered the parties to go away and work out a settlement which they did, each agreeing to pay its costs. Still, the Standard wrote, "A more squalid dispute has seldom wasted the time of a Court of Law."

Calm returned to Caterham. Soon, the Rev. Heard left the vicarage and the Bishop would appoint a successor. Mr. Greer also left but he did not have to go far. He served first as curate at St. Agatha's in nearby Woldingham, and was eventually rector there for many years.  

Handshakes are presently taboo. Looking for light reading? There are dozens more such stories on this blog and more coming. Also consider, Clerical Errors, A Victorian Series, Vol. 2.

The Rector of Nunney

St. Peter's, Nunney. (Now All Saints Church) 

The Theobalds were lords of the manor in Nunney for much of the Victorian period. The Rev. John Theobald had been rector at St. Peter's in the Somerset village from 1830. In the summer of 1842, the rector was charged with two counts of "assaulting with intent" one of his servants, 21-year-old Caroline Cornish. 

The accuser was described as a "fine handsome girl" but even the prosecutor admitted she was not a woman of "unspotted chastity." Before a crowded court at the Assizes in Wells, Miss Cornish said her brother had been a sometime footman at the rectory in Nunney's High Street. She was taken on as a maid. The Theobalds had three children and a fourth on the way. Caroline testified that in February, while the rest of his family was out walking, the rector asked her to bring some warm water up to his dressing room. She found him undressed. He threw her to the bed, “his person was all exposed.” She was able to struggle free and ran to the cook who begged her not to tell Mrs. Theobald who was so very near her confinement. The rector then offered her £10 for her silence. A night or two later, Caroline was told to sleep in a rarely used attic room without a lock. When Mr. Theobald appeared at the door with a candle and asked her why she wasn't in bed, she said, "I have no intention of sleeping here." The rector threw himself on her and began groping her but again she successfully resisted him. The next day, Mrs. Theobald let her go because her husband had decided "you are not enough servant for him." 

Nunney Rectory (visitnunney.com)

The rector was defended by a young John Duke Coleridge, the future Lord Chief Justice. He relentlessly cross-examined the accuser, interrupted by a hysterical fit and fainting spell (on her part). No, Caroline insisted, Mrs. Theobald hadn't criticised her for slovenly dress. She didn't tell the other servants she liked beer and gin. She denied kissing Hillier, the page. She never told him she would rather sleep with him than the rector. The rectory was described as very small. Why she didn't cry out? Caroline said she did. On that first day, she "hallooed" the cook but she mustn't have heard her. As for that second night, that attic room was over the Theobald bedrooms and Mrs. Theobald slept with her door open. No one heard anything. Again, Caroline didn't cry out. Coleridge then read out the names of three or four men. She admitted sharing a room with one of them but she pointed out that he wasn't a married man. 

The prosecutor argued there are no witnesses to these kinds of crimes; the woman is believable. In his defense argument, Coleridge described the Rev. Theobald as a married clergyman, from a respected family, who enjoyed an unblemished reputation. The jury foreman interrupted to say they were all agreed, they did not believe Miss Cornish. They found the Rev. Mr. Theobald not guilty. 

The church bells rang in Nunney for the rector's return. Rev. Theobald remained at St. Peter's until his death in 1877. For some years, he served as domestic chaplain to the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston.

Many Victorian clergymen were accused of misconduct with female servants in their household. Similar arguments were often employed against the women with like results. But, not always. See: https://victorianclericalerrors.blogspot.com/2019/08/a-vicar-and-his-housemaid.html

For full length accounts of Victorian clerical scandals, go here.

The Queen's Proctor Intervening

The motorway roars past today but the Oxfordshire village of Waterperry was once a silent place. Ancient Waterperry Church, dedicated to St. Mary, stands in the grounds of Waterperry Park. In the Victorian years, the Henleys owned the estate and its magnificent Queen Anne mansion. In 1867, John J. Henley M.P. presented the vicarage to the Rev. Frank Shewell. A graduate of Oxford's Worcester College, Shewell was 39 and married with a small family. A new vicarage was being planned but, in the meantime, Shewell would have to room at a nearby farmhouse and his wife remained in London.

Alas, word soon reached the quiet lanes of Waterperry that Mrs. Shewell had taken a lover, one Capt. John Fox, of the 56th (Essex) Pompadours. It was easily proven that Fox had moved into the Shewell's home in South Kensington. Mrs. Shewell had given him a latchkey and there was no doubt they shared a bed. Thus, adultery having been proven, on 17 June 1868, the Rev. Mr. Shewell was granted a decree nisi.

But, wait, there's more. Six months would have to pass between that decree nisi and the final, decree absolute. In the interval, the Queen's Proctor might intervene if any irregularities arose, such as, though not limited to, connivance or condonation on the part of the petitioner, in this case, the Vicar of Waterperry. Upon new evidence, in April 1869, the case was reopened, "the Queen's Proctor intervening."

The second trial revealed that the Rev. and Mrs. Shewell had known Capt. Fox and his unmarried sister, Caroline, for several years. They had socialised and traveled together quite a bit. But the foursome fractured in 1866. In fact, Capt Fox accused the clergyman of seducing Miss Fox, which Shewell denied, counterclaiming that Fox had been taking liberties with Mrs. Shewell. The world already knew about the captain and Mrs. Shewell. The Queen's Proctor now presented evidence tying Rev. Shewell to Miss Fox. She was often seen sitting on the clergyman's knee. A shoemaker recalled Mr. Shewell and Caroline came in often. She advised him on what shoes to buy. From the looks they shared, the shopkeeper assumed they were husband and wife. Of more serious moment was the Queen's Proctor's suggestion that - given Shewell's previous suspicions about his wife and Capt Fox - it was unwise for him to go off to Waterperry and leave her alone in London. It seemed to demonstrate “a degree of indifference and neglect."

The Rev. Shewell's counsel dismissed the new evidence as servant's gossip. It was the "levity of conduct" among a group of (then) friends. The only opposition to the divorce had been raised by his (ex) wife, a “jealous & violent woman,” especially once Capt. Fox abandoned her. Lord Penzance, chief of the Divorce Court, overruled the Queen's Proctor. While there had been naivete and neglect upon the part of the Rev. Shewell, it was not sufficient to prevent him from ending his marriage. 

Still, it was one divorce trial too many for the vicar of Waterperry. He resigned and went into hiding, of sorts, for a few years. Shewell had been adjudged the innocent party in his first marriage and he was able to find new church employment. In 1875, he married again; a clergyman's daughter, in fact. He died in 1886 while vicar of Loddiswell in Devon.

Available, in hard copy and for Kindle, exclusively, on Amazon.

A Clergyman in Hyde Park

London's Savoy Chapel was built in the 16th century where John of Gaunt's palace once stood until it was ransacked during the Peasant's Revolt of 1381. The Rev. William J. Loftie was the longtime assistant chaplain there and published a diverting history of the chapel in 1878. "People pass along the crowded and busy Strand, some of them for years, without any acquaintance with the quiet little church, surrounded by green grass and trees, which hides itself behind the rows of dingy houses." 

The chapel is still there, minus the grass. It belonged to the Crown (the Duchy of Lancaster) and was not regularly used, allowing the Rev. Mr. Loftie ample time for his prolific antiquarian writings. He contributed to numerous journals, wrote several books about the history of London, and was one of the world's foremost experts on Egyptian scarabs. He was a prominent member of the Savile Club, the gathering place for many of the day's leading journalists, writers, and artists.

In December 1894, a brief note appeared in some of the London papers: “The connexion of the Rev W.J. Loftie with the Savoy Chapel has ceased. He was a familiar figure there.” Loftie was married, in his 50's, and few would have suspected the news revealed anything but a deserved retirement. And nothing was ever made public until, years later, Max Beerbohm explained what happened. "One day, the Savile Club reverberated with scandal." Apparently, the Reverend Loftie had been diverted from his studies "long enough to seduce a parlour-maid, and he had found it expedient to give up the Church.*"

Whether Loftie gave up the church or not, five years later in December 1899, he was identified as the Rev. W.J. Loftie, a clerk in holy orders, when he was arrested in Hyde Park for "committing an act in violation of public decency." According to PC Taylor, Loftie was seen at 5:30 in the morning in a secluded path near Albert Gate with a 21-year old woman, employed as a servant in Notting Hill. In police court, the constable testified that Mr. Loftie begged him, "Can we settle it here? I don't want to go to court." The plea was unavailing. In Marlborough Street Police Court, Loftie insisted he had merely taken pity on the poor girl and was attempting to get her to promise to give up frequenting the park at night. Denman, the magistrate, gruffly interrupted: “There is no offense in talking with a woman. You know what you’re charged with.” Loftie denied anything beyond being imprudent. The young lady was fined 20s and told to go home to Colchester. Loftie was fined £5.

Once again, Loftie's numerous connections in the "media" of late Victorian London were helpful; the brief report from the police court, minus any prurient detail, was all the attention the case received. 

The Rev. Mr. Loftie continued to use his clerical title in Who's Who and elsewhere, living until 1911. He remained a member of the Savile Club and authored several more books including Rambles in and near London (which gave scant attention to Hyde Park.) Loftie is quite a forgotten figure today: one Edwardian critic said Loftie "serves up hackneyed material in an agreeable manner."

* S.N. Behrman, A Portrait of Max, p. 214-215.

The Moral Guardian of Thorpe-le-Soken

The Rev Abraham Rumboll had been vicar of St. Michael's, Thorpe-le-Soken for thirty years. Of course, he was invited to the introductory tea for Major George Duberly and Mrs. Duberly who had "taken" the Grange for the summer in 1895. The vicar, his wife, and their daughter Clara joined the get-acquainted session. It was probably a disappointment among the villagers that the major was not a be-medalled hero of any of Victoria's "little wars," but rather just the paymaster of the Royal Sussex Regiment. Still, everyone was quite friendly and the Duberlys were made to feel most welcome. At first.

Maj. Duberly detected a growing chill by the time of the Harvest Festival and not just in the air. He traced the problem to the vicarage; the Rev. Rumboll, he was told, had discouraged the locals from calling at The Grange, owing to "scandalous" information about Mrs. Duberly. 

The major wrote to Rumboll demanding an explanation and apology for this lying slander or he would refer the matter to his solicitor. The vicar declined to see the officer. Duberly tried repeatedly to confront the clergyman without success. The, in September, he was called to the vicarage to hear Rumboll's daughter admit, "I regret repeating the report I had heard that Major and Mrs. Duberly were not married." Duberly demanded an apology be published in every Essex newspaper received in Thorpe. The Rumbolls refused but Clara did write her apology on a card and gave it to the major. But the "scandalous" report had gotten around, even reaching Duberly's regiment. His commanding officer declared Clara's apology insufficient. Was "the report" true or false? The major had to clear his name as an officer and a gentleman. In November 1896, Clara Rumboll, with her father and mother in the gallery, was the defendant in a slander action heard in London. 

Major Duberly, now 37, swore that he and his wife were married 16 years previous on the isle of Guernsey. He had the paperwork. He related his sense that the village was cutting him, a feeling which he traced to the vicarage. The Rev. Rumboll, though not on trial, spread the slander but refused to apologise. Instead, he coaxed his hysterical daughter to hand over a mere scrap of paper.

The QC for the Rumbolls suggested there were other reasons Duberly was out of favour in Thorpe-le-Soken. Was it proper for a married man to be seen kissing young Edith Watson in the open day? Duberly fenced for a while but finally confessed, "I am bound to admit that I did kiss the young lady mentioned once at a stile." Wouldn't the vicar be within his rights to discourage his unmarried daughter and others in the village from visiting the major's home? Duberly allowed that he had behaved "stupidly" but it was a harmless kiss and hardly scandalous. 

A Kissing Stile

Clara Rumboll told the court that she'd seen that kiss. Her first reaction was that maybe the major wasn't really married. The story was soon "common talk" in the village. Under cross-examination, she was asked if she understood that her gossip accused Mrs. Duberly of being a courtesan. She began to cry. She was very sorry for spreading the rumor, but "I never believed it and I never said it was true."

The jury was told that Clara's words were none the less vicious and hurtful because they came from the mouth of the young daughter of a country vicar. The Rev. Rumboll could have stopped this with a prompt recantation and apology. Instead, he set himself up as the moral guardian of Thorpe-le-Soken. For the Rumbolls, their case was that Major Duberly's conduct in Thorpe left him open to unfortunate speculation. Now he meant to get his revenge on the vicar by crushing an innocent 22-year old woman. 

It was a one day trial and the jury was quick at its work. The verdict came in for the Duberlys but for damages of just £5! The Duberlys left the courtroom with their matrimonial and military honor intact. The Grange was once again for let.

For new readers in 2020, welcome. Full-length stories can be found in Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series, available here.