Saturday, March 27, 2021

"Meet me tonight"


There is "no other place in the kingdom" such as "the Rows" of Yarmouth, declared Henry Manship in his history of the coastal town. Running east-west, from the River Yare toward the North Sea, resembling a gridiron, the 145 narrow rows were home to hundreds of sea-faring folk and the "general poor." In 1840, Ann Laws resided there, in Row 99, sometimes known as Castle Row. She lived with her husband James, a sailmaker. 

Ann had been to the market on a July Saturday and when she returned home, she found in her basket, a note. “Meet me tonight about nine or half-past-nine between Penrice’s and the beach.” The note was unsigned and unaddressed; she had no idea who placed it in her basket or when. She showed it to James and he bid her to keep that appointment whilst he kept himself some little distance away. 

The Penrice Arms was at the end of Row 99, on King Street. That summer night, the Yarmouth streets and rows were full. Mrs. Laws, in her bonnet, followed the note's instructions. At the approximate hour, she was approached by no less a figure than the Rev Mark Waters of St. George's, King Street. He spoke to her for several minutes but her husband was not able to hear over the general activity in the area. Mrs. Laws, however, told her spouse that she had indignantly rejected the clergyman's indecent requests. 

The Rev. Waters was 34, born in Yarmouth, married and with a young family. His church, St. George's, held more than 1000 souls. Thus, this little story that spread through the rows would not go away. It soon reached the ears of the Bishop of Norwich. The Rev. Waters did not deny speaking to Mrs. Laws that evening but nothing else she stated was true. There was considerable interest, of course, and Mr. Waters was the subject of ribald abuse in some Yarmouth quarters. At last, the following April, an ecclesiastical inquiry was held before three clergyman to determine whether Mr. Waters had "solicited the chastity" of Ann Laws. 

This churchly probe was held in an old inn, The Bear, in Southtown. The accused was not permitted to speak in his own defense. The belief being, that in such a case, even a clergyman would be tempted to lie. Mrs. and Mr. Laws were closely questioned. She spoke of finding the note in her basket and the plan she and her husband conceived to discover the sender. She was shaken to find out it was a clergyman. She told the churchmen she did not know Rev Waters, had never met him in her life. But her own elderly mother contradicted her. In fact, all the evidence was of “a very conflicting and contradictory character.” Several of their neighbours from the Rows spoke diffidently of the accusers' characters.

The numerous press accounts did not include any details on the improper proposals Mr. Waters allegedly made to Ann Laws. Why did she deny knowing him? Had they met before? There was no published suggestion that Mr. Laws had tried to entrap or blackmail the clergyman. Mr. Laws insisted he acted only after his wife had been insulted. The proceedings were lengthy, the meeting room filled with locals of the first rank and numerous clergy. In the end, the empaneled clergymen met privately for one hour, then issued their statement: Although the inquiry found the clergyman’s conduct “highly objectionable," the evidence was insufficient to send the matter to the Bishop for a full consistory court. 


Despite the rather mixed decision, the Rev Mr. Waters left the Bear, cheered by his many supporters. The verdict was generally accepted, having "effectively changed the impression" of Mr. Waters' in Yarmouth. He remained at St. George's until his death in 1864. The old church is now a theatre.

The newly published collection of stories, How the Vicar Came and Went, is now available from Amazon.

Saturday, March 6, 2021

The Rector's Round from The Half Moon

 



In December 1885, PC Frank Scarterfield of the Surrey Constabulary spent a long cold night - and morning - in the remote village of Charlwood. "Embosomed in the woods," reached only by occasionally impassable lanes, Charlwood was normally a quiet place. The beautiful 11th Century church of St. Nicholas stood in the center of the village with a large rectory, then occupied by the Rev. Edward McFarlane Gibson. Right over The Street was the old public house, The Half Moon.


With much to do on a Sabbath morning, the Rev. Mr Gibson retired at 11 p.m. on Saturday, 12 December. Just about that time, last calls having been served, The Half Moon emptied out into the darkness. There had been a proper "knees up" that night, indeed. The raucous crowd stumbled about, mostly merry, but there were a few scuffles. PC Scarterfield, who policed these bosky lanes with his faithful collie, tried to shepherd the legless lot home. Without success and the PC heard enough backtalk that eventually 8 men were summonsed for being drunk and disorderly, including the publican, Fred Brown.


Even in 1885, there was a lot of paperwork when eight men were nicked. The sun was up by the time the constable thought he might get to his own bed. Then, just past 8:00, on a Sunday morning, he saw a young maid from The Half Moon scuttling over the road to the rectory lugging a large sack, in which the sharp-eared PC heard the unmistakable clink of bottles. He ordered the lass to stop and open her pack - a quick look inside revealed six of the familiar red triangles of Bass Ale. She said the rector had ordered a case of ale but she would have to make two trips. Brown, the hungover publican, was awakened and handed a new summons: selling liquor at unauthorised hours other than to bonafide travelers.


At the Surrey Petty Sessions in Reigate, the Rev. Mr. Gibson appeared in defense of Mr. Brown. The rector said he had ordered the beer and paid for it on Saturday. But it was a boisterous day in the pub and they had forgotten to deliver the case. Mrs. Brown, up early Sunday to get the inn back in order, saw the case behind the bar and sent the girl over with it straightaway. The magistrates, to their great credit, took the word of a clerk in holy orders and the charge was dismissed. They even scolded PC Scarterfield for his "injudiciousness" in bringing such a charge.


Two weeks later, in the same courtroom, the Rev. Gibson was back on the stand. He testified that on that Saturday night he'd been in bed just over the road from The Half Moon and did not really hear the drunken disturbance for which the eight Charlwood men were in the dock. Questioned by the PC, the rector admitted that some of the hedges in the churchyard had been damaged. There was a red spill, probably wine, on the footpath. He had no idea how any of it happened and again he'd slept through most of it anyway. It was another disappointing day for the constable; it wasn't quite as bad as he'd portrayed it. "The Charlwood Eight" were fined 10s apiece. 


Geograph.Org.UK

Charlwood isn't such a quiet place today, not a mile or two from the runways at Gatwick. (Some of the ancient Gatwycks still live in the area.) The Half Moon remains, a "hidden gem" according to one of the pub guides. The Rev Gibson was rector at St. Nicholas until his death in 1913. Surely, he enjoyed a Bass or two at the local. 

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