The Hampstead Prima Donna

The Rev Sherrard Beaumont Burnaby of Hampstead Parish Church was proud of his choir. He'd arrived at St. John's in 1873 and - under the leadership of James Shaw, a young man from Leeds, the choir, "commencing with a few rough boys only" had become celebrated for its "very high state of efficiency." 

All was harmonious in Hampstead until 1879 when the vicar clashed with Elizabeth Tocock, a parishioner of long-standing. (Mrs?) Tocock was in her mid-50's and had been a resident nurse/companion for a wealthy family in Holly Mount. She attended services regularly, morning and evenings. At first, her "incessant and tuneless singing" merely annoyed Rev. Burnaby. The clergyman's discreet emissaries got nowhere and Mrs. Tocock sang even louder and more off-key than heretofore. 

After meetings with his churchwardens, and consulting with the Bishop, Mr. Burnaby took a most unusual step. By ancient law, it was a crime to disrupt a church service; the official term was "brawling." Mrs. Elizabeth Tocock was given a summons to appear in Hampstead Police Court on 3 December 1879 to answer a charge that she had “unlawfully disturbed, vexed, troubled and disquieted” the vicar of St. John’s Parish Church. The Rev. Mr. Burnaby told the magistrates that he, along with the members of his choir, and indeed the greater part of his congregation, had exhausted their patience. “She makes the most shocking noise, which I suppose she would call singing, at the topmost pitch of her voice.” Her antics clearly unsettled the organist and choir as she sang at her own tardy pace. The vicar also pointed out that the nettlesome woman customarily took a seat no more than fifteen feet in front of the pulpit so as to be directly in his vision. The exasperated Mr. Burnaby said no one could conduct themselves in such a manner without intentionally wishing to annoy. 

Mr. Woodd Smith of Hampstead Heath, the local JP, was not an ardent churchgoer but fully sympathized with Mr. Burnaby’s plight. Whether Mrs. Tocock meant to do it or not, the law was plain: any conduct which hinders divine service is unlawful. If it was up to him, he would order her to pay a fine of £5 or spend two months in jail. The vicar had no wish to have "the diva" incarcerated. It was agreed to suspend matters for one month to see if Mrs. Tocock could control herself. As she left court, however, she told reporters, “I cannot worship if I cannot sing.”

The story of “the Hampstead Prima Donna” made all the papers. Mrs. Tocock, described as a “respectably dressed and apparently well-educated woman,” was not without supporters, especially among those who were dubious of elaborate rituals and music during services. A COUNTRY CLERGYMEN, cheered her on, "Dear Madam, I fear at the present time there are many who wish to convert our churches into mere places for hearing singing."

When her case was called again, there was general agreement that Mrs. Tocock was doing her best not to annoy. That must have been the end of it as the cacophonous woman vanishes from the annals of Hampstead lore. Only a few weeks later, 200 members of the London Church Choir Association gathered for a concert at the parish church. Mr. Shaw was at the organ; the programme included Gadesby’s “Not unto us, O Lord.” Mr. Burnaby’s silent prayer, no doubt.

For more tales of "vexed, troubled and disquieted" Victorian clergymen, How the Vicar Came and Went is now available from Amazon.