"A Miserable Business"

West Huntspill Church (1870)*

The Rev William Arundell was 25 and fresh from Oxford when he arrived to be a curate in the "picturesque and widely scattered village” of Huntspill in Somerset. The rector, the Rev. Mr. Lake, thought the locals were "tolerably moral people." 

 Young Mr. Arundell lived in a room at Plymor Hill farm. In the summer of 1868, Arundell told the farmer, William Hawkings, that he had heard "rumours unfavourable to their character" about two of the girls who worked for him. Supposedly, Jane Meaker, a 19-year old dairymaid, and the housemaid, 15 year old Elizabeth Cridge, had been seen cavorting with local men. Mrs. Cridge, Elizabeth's mother, blamed the older girl for her daughter's fall. Hawkings, who learned of these claims on a Saturday, told the girls they couldn't go to church the following day and, if he found these stories to be true, he would sack them both. 

The girls insisted on their innocence but on Sunday, they disappeared. Their absence was first noted when they were no-shows at Mr. Arundell's evening prayers. Midday Tuesday, Elizabeth and Jane were found drowned in a remote cattle pond, near the sea wall at Bridgwater Bay. They were "found tightly in each other's arms." Certainly this was “one of the more shocking tragedies that has ever taken place in this neighbourhood.” 

The Western Times, called it a "miserable business" and reported that the two wretched girls had been frightened into death. However, at the inquest held at Crossways Inn, the local magistrate declared that the Rev. Arundell and the farmer had done “quite right.” The death of these "fine, good-looking country girls" became a national scandal. An inquest, held with "indecent hurry," had resulted in a cruel verdict (double suicide) that prevented the girls from having a Christian burial. 400 people, many sobbing, some angry, stood in the darkness when the bodies were interred in the St. Peter's graveyard before midnight. The rector defended his curate, urging everyone to “take the most merciful view of the case, which I had always believed to be the true one.” But, the London Standard denounced the "barbarity of the vengeance wreaked in the name of the law." 

Mr. Arundell remained in Huntspill for another year or so. In 1873, he left to be the rector in Cheriton Fitzpaine.

Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series, Vol. 1 is a collection of full-length accounts of similar "national scandals." For American readers, click here. Kindle or other Ebook apps are FREE and easy to use on your phone or tablet. Volume 2 is now in preparation. 

Illustration: British History Online (http://www.british-history.ac.uk)

Two Bastards under his Roof

The Rev. James Stewart Gordon Cranmer D.D. never tired of mentioning his direct descent from Henry VIII's formidable Archbishop. But Dr. Cranmer's clerical career fell far short of his ancestor. 

A widower, nearly 70, Cranmer was a curate in Wroxham, Norfolk, when he married 28-year old Sarah Honey, a pretty widow with two children (at least.) Within a year of the wedding, however, Rev. Cranmer found himself in a Southwark police court sued by a "nurse" in South London claiming she had not been paid for the care and feeding of two infants (sadly, one had died) believed to be the illegitimate children of the new Mrs. Cranmer. The clergyman's wife denied they were her children. She admitted visiting the toddlers and sending Mrs. Donne money for their care but only out of "benevolence." Mrs. Cranmer testified that she'd been assisting the real mother - a former servant named "Miss Hammond." When the Rev. Cranmer learned of the arrangement, there was a row and he instructed her to stop making the payments. But a witness swore that she had known "Miss Hammond" and she very much resembled Mrs. Cranmer. Worse was to come. "Does the Rev. Dr. Cranmer know that you have brought two bastards under his roof?" She was ashamed to admit that there had been no legal first marriage; she had been duped and found herself, some years later, abandoned (not widowed) with a girl of six and a boy five. The magistrate declared himself shocked at Mrs. Cranmer's "gross and willful perjury." 

The Rev. Dr. Cranmer was ordered to pay the "nurse" £4 7s 6d. For such a paltry sum, it would have certainly been wiser if he had just paid the wretched woman rather than have such squalid "family secrets" gifted to the newspapers avid for such clerical dirty laundry. Of course, it was more than likely that the Cranmers had paid and paid again already. 

For several years, Dr. Cranmer was without church employment. In 1875, he was given a curacy in Brewham, Somerset where he died in 1881, leaving his wife and two "adopted" children. 

Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series, Vol. 1 is a book length collection of five of the leading "sensations" of the day. It is an Ebook and apps are free for your phone or tablet. Thank you. 

A "Fiddling Clergyman" in the New Forest

Illustration at cello.org

The death of a clergyman who held a pleasant benefice (church) would give rise to the "usual flutter of excitement" in clerical circles. All eyes would look to the patron of the parish, usually a local grandee, who held the right to present to the Bishop his choice to fill the living. Patrons were often criticised for caring more about their new pastor's social standing than his spiritual strengths. 

In 1874, the Rev. John Falls, the vicar of Brockenhurst, passed away. The Morants of Brockenhurst Park (and Park Lane, London), enriched by a Jamaican sugar estate, had been squires in the New Forest for more than a century. Early in 1875, an advertisement appeared in The Guardian: "Wanted for a small living in South Hants, an Incumbent in Priest's Orders; must be young and musical, violoncello preferred." The offering was placed through a clerical agency and did not name the parish but John Morant was well known for his devotion to fine music. He had founded a Philharmonic Society in Lymington. Perhaps there was also a vacant chair in the orchestra? The work of some clubland poetaster made the rounds: 

Hey, diddle-diddle, a priest who can fiddle,
Is wanted at Brockenhurt, Hants.
You clerical Fellows,
with good violoncellos,
Please call in at Johnny Morant's.”

The “Fiddling Clergyman” sensation produced more serious objections. It conjured the image of a clergyman who had to play for his supper and "what he can earn by his violin-playing for strolling dramatic companies and other wandering bodies, circuses probably, and menageries." In the event, howver, Morant presented the living to Rev. George Octavious Wray, a man with apparently no musical talents. He had entered the clerical life after a career as a lawyer out in India. In Brockenhurst, where he kept bees, Rev. Wray was better known for his aviary than his violoncello.

Volume Two of Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series is nearing publication. Have you read Volume One? The quite affordable Ebook version is still available.

The Vicar's "One Unhappy Mistake."

The charity, kindness, and benevolence of the Rev. Mr. John Henry Timmins, vicar of West Malling in Kent, had been well-established in his forty plus years in the village. Visiting the sick was one of his passions, having attended a series of lectures at St. Thomas' Hospital in London - albeit in his youth. 

In late 1882, the 70-year old vicar called upon Sarah Wright, a laborer's daughter who'd been unwell. Timmins had a small vial with him, medicine for his son who had a case of nettle-rash. He poured out a teaspoon for Sarah. She swallowed it and "at once got up from the sofa on which she was lying and screamed, "Oh, Mr. Timmins, Mr. Timmins!" The girl was soon vomiting and foaming from the mouth. Dr. Pope was called - and there were many physicians in West Malling - but Sarah died in less than two hours. The bottle had contained "the essential oil of almonds" and the chemist had clearly marked it as poison. 

The Maidstone magistrates charged the vicar with manslaughter and he was tried at the summer assizes. Stedman, the local chemist had never spoken directly with Rev. Timmins but the instructions were clear - for external use only. Dr. Pope said the vicar told him that he thought a teaspoon was "an innocuous amount." 

Sir Edward Clarke defended the vicar. Rev. Timmins had definitely sent for the innocuous "expressed oil of bitter almonds" but the chemist had sent "essential oil of almonds," which was a deadly poison - prussic acid. By this "one unhappy mistake," a beloved cleric stood in this painful position. The prosecution acknowledged the kindly motives at work but the defendant's sheer rashness and worse, lack of remorse, made it manslaughter. Justice Day told the jury that the case showed a "clear want of care." Nevertheless, the jurymen of Kent took less than ten minutes to bring their verdict of not guilty "which was received with some applause." 

The medical press called the West Malling case "a solemn warning to all amateur 'physickers,'" many of them clergy. While there was little humor in the tragedy, Punch cautioned churchmen to stick to their "noble errand in the world ... and not meddle with the Pharmacopoeia." The Rev. Mr. Timmins remained vicar in West Malling another decade, and he died there in 1897.

Volume Two of Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series is nearing publication. Have you read Volume One? The quite affordable Ebook version is still available.

Image: polyvore.com

A Discordant Sunday at St. Winifred's, Branscombe

St. Winifred's in Branscombe is one of the oldest churches in Devon. Although the village is on a beautiful stretch of coast, St. Winifred's was "hidden inland from marauding Danes.*" There are few more lovely settings in all England.

The Victorian period was much more peaceful, in some ways. Rev. Henry Tomkins arrived there as vicar in 1868. As ever, the new clergyman came in with his own ideas that were not necessarily going to win universal support within the congregation. There had been "considerable ill-feeling," in fact, between Mr. Tomkins and the Fords. Both well into their 60's, Miss Mary was the organist, and her brother, William, the choir-master. Miss Mary was never shy about reminding the vicar that it was her organ (!). It had gotten to the point that the warring parties did not speak and the vicar passed the music sheet to the sexton who saw that the Fords got it before Sunday morning. 

On 15 September 1870, Harvest Sunday, the vicar was especially pleased to welcome the Archdeacon all the way from the Cathedral in Exeter. Whilst the vicar was reading the prayer for the Queen, Miss Ford began playing. The vicar continued in an ever louder voice. When a hymn was to be played, Miss Ford refused to play it, leaving the vicar to lead an a cappella version. It was a scandal and the whole village talked of nothing else that evening. The next day, Mr. Tomkins dismissed both Fords and, soon, he had them formally charged with "riotous behaviour in a church." 

It was all a mess. The sexton had given the music list to his son to deliver and the lad had - as children will - forgotten to fulfill his task. More than half the parishioners signed a letter in support of the venerable Fords. When Lord Sidmouth dismissed the charges, the Fords left to a cheering escort back to their homes. The unpopular Tomkins was denounced for his "trumpery" charge. "He is a ritualist and not a very wise one," the Western Times concluded.

The vicar could not recover from his public rebuke and left Branscombe after only three years. Tomkins became the chaplain at a large health sanitarium in Weston-super-Mare where he delighted in writing hymns. Several were published including "A Hymn to Branscombe." Would Miss Ford have even played it?

In 2008, I published Blame it on the Devon Vicar, a collection of Victorian stories. The cover art was unfortunate but the book is still available from amazon.co.uk.

Very soon, look for publication of Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series, Vol. 2. 

(* Jenkins, England's 1000 Best Churches)

"Extraordinary Conduct for a Clergyman."

Clarence House, London

On a rainy and cold January night in 1849, a sentry stood under the portico of London's Clarence House. A well-dressed gentleman scurried past, heading toward St. James' Park. A few moments later, the man returned, stopping for shelter from the rain. Lighting a cigar, the man said, “Tis a wet night, isn’t it, soldier?” After a few pleasantries, nodding toward the house behind, the stranger wondered who lived in such a grand place. "This is the home of the Queen's mother, the  Duchess of Kent, sir.” The man then leaned closer to whisper, “Ah, I see, the Duchess of C**t.” The next thing the startled sentry knew he felt the vulgar stranger’s hand as it slipped beneath his tunic, reaching for his private parts.  

Not on his watch; the sentry barked and quick-marched the attacker off to the guardhouse where he made the statement quoted above. 

The Rev. Henry Seller, a curate from Send, a small Surrey village near Woking, would face charges for a gross assault upon Private Joseph Cooper of the Scot's Fusilier Guards. The clergyman, 32 and married, protested his innocence. He admitted to first giving a false name but purely from the shame such a charge, however false, would bring upon him. In Bow Street Police Court, the sentry failed to appear and the magistrates had no choice but to dismiss the Rev. Seller with a caution. 

It seems like Private Cooper was in trouble of his own. Disobedient to an officer, he was put in the cells but escaped. Back in custody, several fellow guardsmen testified to his villainy. Cooper had boasted of threatening numerous gentlemen in the park, who from fear would pay up with some money, a ring, or maybe on a good night, even a watch. Rev. Seller returned to testify at Cooper's trial. The soldier had the crafty Old Bailey hand Sergeant Ballentine who put up a lively defense. What was this country curate doing out, darting back and forth, in the darkened parks on such a night in London? Seller said he was walking to Pimlico to visit a friend. An unmarried male friend. Why had he left the gas-lit streets for the gloom of the park? Why would a Cambridge-educated clergyman spend even three minutes in conversation with a private soldier? Ballentine suggested it was "extraordinary conduct for a clergyman." 

In the end, the evidence against Cooper was overwhelming. He had engaged in a “system of wickedness" and was ordered transported for fifteen years. The Rev. Mr. Seller was praised for his bravery in coming forward in such an unpleasant affair. Seller spent most of the rest of his long clerical life living blamelessly in Trull, near Taunton, in Somerset.

For those who have inquired, Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series, Volume 2 will be published this spring. In addition to e-Book, it will also be published in an Amazon paperback. Watch here for further details. Thank you.

Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series, Volume 1 is still available, of course. For U.K. readers, click here.

The Reverend Dog-Torturer

St. Mary's, Turweston (waymarking.com)

It was a summer Sunday evening in the small, straggling Bucks village of Turweston. The Rev. William Harley, rector of St. Mary the Virgin, returned from the evening service to find a dog digging in the garden. Now this dog had been a persistent annoyance. With the assistance of his gardener, Mr. Harley put a sack over the dog's head and poured a pint of turpentine over the animal's "hind quarters." The animal began running in circles, yelping his way home to his master at nearby Turweston House. Mr. Stratton, JP, with the assistance of the RSPCA, brought Mr. Harley before the magistrates, charging him with “having ill-treated, abused and tortured a dog." 

The case of "The Rev. Dog-Torturer" became a cause celebre across England. Harley freely admitted doing it; he was at his wit's end, the dog had been chased off so many times. A veterinarian stated that the pain lasted no longer than hour. The RSPCA official called it a "gross act of cruelty" and beyond a landowner's rights. Denounced in many papers and among animal-lovers, Harley wrote to The Times, expressing some sorrow but claiming he was the victim of great exaggeration, "I was particularly careful not to allow it to touch any tender parts." At the Petty Sessions, the rector was cleared and, moreover, "he leaves this court without a stain upon his reputation as a Christian minister, a gentleman and a humane man.” 

Critics feared that if a clergyman could get away with this, what would others do? The Spectator reminded readers: "There is nothing more striking in our Lord's whole teaching than the reality with which he binds together the whole living universe in the bond of His Father's care and love." 

Looking for more stories of clerical controversy? Clerical Errors - A Victorian Series, Volume 1 is now available for E-readers via either amazon.com or amazon.co.uk.

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