 |
| 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)
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)
