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.

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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.  

Ruin of a Clergyman: Christmas Shoplifting

Especially in December, London's shopkeepers were on their guard for thieves; 'tis the season for "Christmas depredations." On the 18th of December 1890, Thomas Howell was working in the book department at the Army and Navy Stores on Victoria Street. He began to particularly watch a certain browsing shopper. Howell observed the man slip several books into a large pocket of his overcoat. Following this gentleman into the tobacco area, the argus-eyed employee watched two pipes disappear into another pocket. Store security joined the investigation trailing the suspect into a basement lavatory whence he emerged with a large satchel. As was the practice, security waited for the gentleman to leave the store before confronting him on the busy pavement outside. 

The following day in the Westminster Police Court, the Rev. Wiliam Luther Leeman M.A. was formally charged with the theft of the two pipes and a large number of books (including the best-seller, In Darkest England, the now classic expose of Victorian poverty.) While "shopping," Leeman was not dressed in clerical attire and gave a false name. But in his rooms in Willesden, police discovered his identity and - by the way - many more books, several 1891 calendars, and 52 Christmas cards, all bearing the mark of the Army & Navy stores.

The Rev. Leeman was 40; his late father had been an MP in Yorkshire. Leeman's appointed counsel apologised for his client's conduct. "It was a terrible thing for a man in his position." He could only state that the accused was in a period of "great mental worry." Given time, Rev. Leeman's family and friends would come forward to speak on his behalf. 

No bail was granted and Leeman remained in jail for nearly two months before a magistrate's trial in mid-February. The court was told that Leeman's troubles with drink began as early as the age of 12. He was sent to India but returned after a sunstroke. His father sent him to Oxford and Durham and he was ordained in 1872. As a curate, he served in several north country parishes. In 1875, his father's friend, Mr. Gladstone, arranged for Leeman to be Vicar of St. Mary & St. Laurence in Rosedale. By 1880, Leeman was married with three young children, and rector of St. John, Seaforth, in Lancashire. A decade later he stood in court alone; his wife and children were gone, and his career was in ruins. His drinking cost him one living after another. His last appointment had been in Willesden, where he was living, but not working, at the time of his arrest. Family members hoped to spare him from jail and offered to finance his care for 12 months in an asylum for inebriates. The offer was accepted. 

The efficacy of that year's treatment cannot be determined. It is sad to report that in February 1905, the Rev Mr. Leeman died at the Bracebridge Asylum, Lincolnshire. He was 55.

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The War of the Bells

If the newly-married Duke of Marlborough expected a merry peal of church bells to herald his arrival at Blenheim Palace with his bride, His Grace was to be greatly disappointed. The bells of St. Mary Magdalene, Woodstock were silent per the instructions of the rector, the Rev. Arthur Majendie. All Britain was soon to read about “The Rector Who Wouldn’t Flatter a Duke.”

In June 1888, in New York City, George Spencer-Churchill, 8th Duke of Marlborough, married Lily Hammersley, widow of a wealthy real estate investor. A Cunard liner brought the couple back to England and there was a happy turnout of locals and estate workers to greet their carriage as it entered the splendid seat of the Marlboroughs. Why no bells? 

Rev. Majendie told the press that he meant no disrespect to the new duchess who seemed to be a charming lady. The Duke, however, was an altogether different story. He inherited his title in 1883 on the death of his father. A critical newspaper wrote that one of Britain's most famous titles was being held by “one of the worst specimens of manhood in England.” As a young man, then titled Marquess of Blandford, he had featured in three divorce trials in just eight years. His first wife was a daughter of the Duke of Abercorn and they had four children. In 1875, however, Blandford began a brazen affair with the Countess of Aylesford while her husband, "Sporting Joe" Aylesford was off tiger shooting in India with the Prince of Wales. The Aylesfords got their divorce and the trial provided all the needed evidence for Lady Blandford to seek one of her own. The details of her treatment at the hands of Blandford were so vile that the Queen waived her usual ban against divorcees at court in favour of the innocent Lady Blandford. Then, in 1886, Blandford (now the Duke), was one of four (but the most active and notable) of the lovers of Lady Colin Campbell whose long-running, salacious, society divorce trial shocked the country. 

During this period, the remarriage of divorced persons, especially those found to be at fault, was not permitted in the Church of England. Thus, the Duke's trans-Atlantic strategy, which found him returning to Britain with a legally married wife and her Yankee dollars to bolster his parlous fortunes. Majendie's decision not to ring the church bells to celebrate this happy event was generally supported by his fellow churchmen. The Rurideaconal Council in Oxford, for instance, declared "there is an extreme danger to public morals from the relaxation of sanctions of marriage" and expressed its sympathy with the rector of Woodstock.

The Duke minimised the snub, which he called "childish and petty." Majendie, he sneered, was “one of those high church parsons who wants to advertise himself.” But there would be retribution. The Duke banned the rector and his family from Blenheim Park forcing Majendie to go the long way around between his two churches in Woodstock and St. Martin's, Bladon. All the estate contributions to the churches were cut off. No great loss, there. Majendie said the Duke's most recent annual gift had been £13. The publicity given to the "War of the Bells" brought in more than enough to cover the loss.

The war between the rectory and the palace was short-lived. The 8th Duke died in 1892, he was just 48. The Rev. Majendie outlived him, he died in January 1895 and was mourned as a man of great ability and wide popularity. "The church has lost one of her best and bravest parish priests."

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A Thousand and One Rumours

St. Swithun's, Hempstead

All was in readiness for the wedding feast at Hempstead Court, the country home of the Rev. Samuel Lysons of St. Luke's, Gloucester. Tuesday, October 9, 1855, was his daughter Alice's wedding day. The groom was a popular local clergyman, the Rev. Hugh Hovell Baskerville Farmar. From a prominent Irish family, Farmar was curate at St. Nicholas in the nearby village of Hardwicke. The little Hempstead church of St. Swithun was decorated with flowers and filled with the local gentry and friends of the young couple. But the appointed hour of 11:00 passed and neither party to the nuptials appeared. By noon, guests were told that owing to the bride's indisposition the wedding would be the following day. Within hours, the truth was known - the Rev. Farmar had disappeared. He had visited his betrothed the night before and had not been seen since. The trains were checked, canals were dragged, and several tramps at a local "mop fair" were questioned by police. But days passed with no sign of the missing curate. "The affair is altogether wrapped in mystery."

Detectives were employed. "A Thousand and One Rumours" were circulated. Reported sightings in London and Ireland were busts. It wasn't until December that Farmar was traced to America. The Gloucester Chronicle reported, "Some expression fell from the lips of the intended bride during the last interview which was misconstrued by the gentleman into something like regret at the step she was about to take." Farmar despaired; his only plan was to flee, an act he will ever regret. He wanted all the friends of Miss Lysons to know that the blame for this unhappiness was all his.

The sequels to the wedding mystery are equally interesting. The Lysons name was well-known in Gloucestershire, a family of clergymen, physicians, and antiquarians. Jilted Alice Lysons did eventually marry; in 1861, she wed a young man named George Hacker. George was the son of a local railway porter and he was being educated in Cheltenham at the Rev. Lysons' expense. Alice, apparently, couldn't wait for the schooling to be finished. That May, the papers reported, "This week, she left home secretly to be married to him."

As for the Rev. Farmar, he joined the Episcopal church in the midwestern state of Illinois. He invested well, mostly in agricultural land, and became quite wealthy. He left the clergy and settled near Springfield, Missouri on a 300-acre farm. In January 1890, he was found dead in his burned-out log home. One of the local papers speculated the fire was set by some of his "negro tenants" angry over recent evictions. If he was murdered, it was never solved. Farmar kept to himself, he was an eccentric. All the locals knew about him was he came from England about forty years earlier. "Great excitement prevails," readers were told. Farmar never married. 

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Charles Darwin & the Curate

The Rev John Warburton Robinson was an Irishman, educated at Trinity, and ordained at Oxford in 1864. In August 1868, he arrived in the village of Downe, Kent. Robinson was the new curate at St. Mary's church. The Rev J.B. Innes, the absentee vicar of Downe, wrote to his most famous parishioner, the great Charles Darwin, to say, "I hope you and the other parishioners like him." Robinson set about his clerical duties, including a fund drive for a new village school. But, in late November, the curate abruptly announced he was returning to Ireland for three months to attend to family affairs.  

Charles Darwin and Rev Innes were old friends and regular correspondents. Thus, Darwin wrote Innes to share some gossip, "Rumours are very common in our village about Mr. Robinson walking with girls at night." The naturalist had heard this second hand from his wife. A neighbour, Mrs. Allen was said to be "very indignant about Mr R's conduct with one of her maids." Darwin said one of his own servants at Down House had been hear to say, "They do not believe that hardly anyone will go to Church now." 

Innes was shaken by this news; Robinson had presented testimonials that "painted him to be little less than a saint." The old vicar clearly did not have the greatest trust in the residents of Downe. "I know too much of reports in general and Downe reports in particular to credit anything which people say behind a man’s back & are afraid to say to his face." Would Darwin dig into this and report back to him? Innes needed to know more. "I can only say that, though I do not know Mr. Robinson, I would try to protect him from malicious accusations but if he is immoral I will do all in my power to get him out forthwith."  

The 60-year-old Darwin agreed to find "The Origin of the Rumours." About a week later, the impromptu sleuth reported back that "Rumours certainly are rife against Mr R." The hottest gossip linked the curate with a young lady named Esther West, formerly a servant with the Allens. They were seen talking quietly in the road and elsewhere 'round the village at odd hours. The Allens gave Esther the sack and she'd left Downe. But Darwin did question Mrs. Allen. "Judging by her manner, [she] knew a good deal, but said she was nervous & wd not commit herself— accordingly she said she cd not remember who had told her any one single thing; or the name of the girl in the village; & further that her cook did not want to commit herself & declined to say whether it was in the daylight or after dark that Mr R. talked with the girl." Hardly conclusive. The Robinson case fell to the ground. Detective Darwin didn't care for his new role, "I feel in an awkward predicament. I do not feel sure, owing to my ignorance of law, whether I may not be exposing myself to an action for defamation of character." He closed the case, if you will, "I am most sincerely sorry for all this vexation & trouble." 

Rev. Innes still considered his curate unsuitable and would bring the matter to the Bishop. But, in the end, Rev. Robinson never returned to Downe, resigning in February 1869. 

The Rev John Warburton Robinson obtained more work as a curate in the 1870's. His career ended in 1876 when he was arrested for an indecent assault with a guardsman in an alley near London's Knightsbridge Barracks. That charge was reduced but Robinson was involved subsequently in two similar cases. According to one report, he emigrated to Melbourne, Australia.   

Darwin died in Downe in 1882, having spent the last 40 years of his life in the village. There was a family vault at St. Mary's but - not without controversy - Darwin was buried in Westminster Abbey.

The letters quoted here can be found in full in the Darwin Correspondence Project at the University of Cambridge. (darwinproject.ac.uk)

This Darwin story is now included in my 2020 collection of clerical errors, How the Vicar Came and Went available at Amazon.