Now! Then! John Alcock becomes rector of Burnsall, Craven, initiating several amusing decades

18 June 1753: John Alcock becomes rector of Burnsall, Craven, initiating several amusing decades

James Henry Dixon. 1881. Chronicles and Stories of the Craven Dales. London: Simpkin, Marshall and Co. Get it:

Excerpt

Once, on taking out his sermon, he discovered that a brother wag, who was present, had unstitched the leaves, and replaced them, higgledy piggledy. Mr Alcock told his flock what had occurred, and pointed to the perpetrator. He then said, “I’ve no time to put the leaves in their proper places. I shall read as I find it. You can put it together when you get home.” The individual who unstitched the sermon was in the habit of taking his Sunday dinner with the parson. On one of these occasions, Mr A. asked him to stay the afternoon service; but he begged to be excused, as the days were short, and he would be benighted. “Nonsense,” said Mr A., “I’ll give you my word of honour, the sermon shall be a short one.” Thus assured, the friend accompanied the parson, who did not preach more than a quarter of an hour. But now Jonas called on the congregation to join in singing “the whole of the 119th psalm, beginning at the first verse [of 176].” Mr A’s friend quitted the church at the end of the tenth verse, on which Mr A. turned to the choir and said, “That will do, we’ll have no more of it.” At the celebration of a marriage, the lady objected to the word “obey,” on which Mr A. said, “Well, my dear, it is an awkward word: skip on to the next.” He resided at Rylstone with his clerk, Jonas, who had a numerous progeny, some of whom had hair as black as jet, while others had hair of a light flaxen hue. Mr A. used to say that some took after the parson, and some after the clerk. But Mr Alcock was in many respects a model clergyman – a gentleman, and a resident. Kind-hearted and benevolent, his failings were what Hone calls “clerical errors.”

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To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.

Abbreviations

Comment

Date from the parish register (Stavert 1912).

The biggest extant collection seems to be Dixon’s above. Psalm 119 has 176 verses. William Wilberforce’s diary records that he learnt the whole of it by heart, and on 11 December 1819, “Walked from Hyde Park Corner, repeating the 119th Psalm, in great comfort” (Wilberforce 1839).

A gem worthy of Father Ted from William Hone’s piece (Hone 1827):

Jonas, like his master, was an oddity, and used to make a practice of falling asleep at the commencement of the sermon, and waking in the middle of it, and bawling out “amen,” thereby destroyed the gravity of the congregation. Mr. Alcock once lectured him for this, and particularly requested he not say amen till he had finished his discourse. Jonas promised compliance, but on the following Sunday made bad worse, for he fell asleep as usual, and in the middle of the sermon awoke and bawled out “Amen at a venture!”

A curiosity: the murderous philologist Eugene Aram claims that he studied briefly with Alcock (Watson 1913).

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Original

Rylstone is famed for its wit; and so it occupies a prominent place in the store-house of Craven jesters and gossips; and at the village inn, when “tales, much older than the ale, go round.” The pulpit of the church, now filled, Sabbath after Sabbath, by serious pains-taking clergymen, was, some years ago, occupied by a clerical wag, the late Rev. John Alcock, A.B., rector of one mediety of Burnsall. Mr Alcock was no way related to the Craven family of the same name. He came into the district, a stranger, from one of the midland counties. He was, in fact, the last clerical representative of an ancient family, in which the right of presentation to one mediety of Burnsall was vested from 1709 to 1810. During this period the presented was always an Alcock, and a member of the family – our clerical wit being the “ultimus Romanorum” – the last of his lineage. Mr. John Alcock was a collegian and a man of some learning. From all we can glean, he was a well-meaning man, and a strictly moral character, notwithstanding some of his jokes. Unfortunately, he allowed the wit with which he was so exuberantly imbued, to get the mastery of his judgment. Like the priestly author of “Gargantua and Pantagruel,” he too often indulged in sallies, that were mistimed, and sadly out of place. The anecdotes, the facetiæ, the Rabelaisms laid at his door, would fill a volume. Many of them have an apocryphal stamp. Others can be traced to a merry lay companion – a practical joker, who resided in the parish of Gargrave, and figured as a comic actor in Airay’s troop. Nay, some of the jokes attributed to Mr. Alcock may be found in Joe Miller, and in old Hierocles [sic]. The jests and stories that are well authenticated, are sufficient to stamp Mr. Alcock as a “fellow of infinite mirth.”

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On one occasion Mr. A. found that he had lost his sermon. No way disconcerted, he informed his flock; and then, addressing his clerk, said “Jonas! hand me up that Bible, and I’ll read a chapter in Job worth ten of it!”

Once, on taking out his sermon, he discovered that a brother wag, who was present, had unstitched the leaves, and replaced them, higgledy piggledy. Mr. A. told his flock what had occurred, and pointed to the perpetrator. He then said, “I’ve no time to put the leaves in their proper places. I shall read as I find it! You can put it together when you get home!” …

During his preaching to a Benefit Society, he was rather prolix, and symptoms of uneasiness were apparent. The preacher paused, and said, “Yes! you want your dinners; and so do I! I see how it is!” And then, turning over the leaves of the undelivered portion, he said “There’s enough left for another spell! so if you please, God willing, we’ll postpone the remainder till next anniversary!” He surprised his conregation, at another time, by reading about four verses of the 1st chapter of St. Matthew, and saying, “And so on to the end of the chapter, – here endeth the second lesson!”

The individual, who unstitched the sermon, was in the habit of taking his Sunday dinner with the parson. On one of these occasions, Mr. Alcock asked him to stay the afternoon service; but he begged to be excused, as the days were short, and he would be benighted. “Nonsense!” said Mr. A., “I’ll give you my word of honour, the sermon shall be a short one!” Thus assured, the friend accompanied the parson, who did not preach more than a quarter of an hour. But now came the climax; for Jonas called on the congregation to join in singing “the whole of the 119th Psalm, beginning at the first verse!” This, however, was an infliction that Mr. A’s friend would not submit to. He quitted the church at the end of the tenth verse; on which Mr. A. turned to the choir and said, “That will do! we’ll have no more of it!”

At the celebration of a marriage, the lady objected to the word “obey” – on which Mr. A. said, “Well! my dear! it is an awkward word; skip on to the next!” …

Mr. A. was officiating in Kirkby-Malhamdale Church, when he burst into a laugh. He thus explained the cause: “You know John ______” (here he named a very fat farmer); “as he was crossing the churchyard, he was upset by an old sow getting between his legs, and that was more than my gravity could stand!” The explanation set the congregation in a titter; on which Mr. A. said, “Who’ll be the first to tell the Bishop?” He might well ask! for in those days Bishops were scarce in the dales – and as for Archdeacons and Rural Deans, their visits (even in the Deanery of Craven), were like those of angels, “few and far between!”

Mr. Alcock was a bachelor in a double sense, being both an A.B., and an unmarried man. He resided at Rylstone with his clerk. Jonas had a numerous progeny; some of whom had hair as black as jet, while others had hair of a light flaxen hue. Mr. Alcock used to account for the difference of hue, by saying that some took after the parson, and some after the clerk!

One day as Mr. Alcock was going to the afternoon service, he came across a lot of boys who were playing at football. On approaching them, he said, “This is very wrong! you’re breaking the Sabbath!” The remonstrance had no effect, and he stood looking on, and shaking his stick, when the ball chanced to roll close to his feet, on which he gave it a kick. The ball flew so high and so far, as to draw down an universal applause! “That’s the way to play at football!” said the parson. With such an example, it is needless to say, that the lads continued their sport, and boasted, far and wide, that the parson had joined in a game!

[An interesting digression on Sunday football.]

Mr. Alcock, on one occasion, perpetrated a pun. The scene is said to have been Rylstone Church, but our informant is not certain – nor does it much matter. During the service some one was heard singing, “I’m full of tossing – tossing to and fro.”[Job 7:4; “toss off” in the modern sense is later] “What is all that tossing about?” asked Mr. Alcock. “Please, Sir,” was the reply, “it’s Johnny Hird – he’s been at a berrin’, and got drunk, and he will sing ‘ť funeral antem!” “I’m full of tossing” again came from Hird. “John!” said Mr. Alcock, “you must not sing that now; there’s nobody dead here, and you must cease!” “I’m full of tossing” again came from the drunken mourner. Mr. Alcock now addressed his flock, and said he should feel obliged if some one would toss John Hird into the churchyard. Several volunteers were ready to comply with the request, and so John got the toss, and was left to finish his antem among the tombs.

[This is not another Rev. Alcock.]

Strange as it may seem, Mr. Alcock was, in many respects, a model clergyman; for the country churches of the dales, in his day, were, in too many instances, supplied by men, altogether unfit for their sacred calling – men of poor mental capacity, who frequently were only in Deacon’s orders, and the journeymen of absentee incumbents, from whom they received a starvation allowance. One of these incumbents had resided so long within the rules of the Bench, that no one in his parish – not even the “oldest inhabitant” – could remember him. Mr. Alcock was a gentleman, and a resident. He was kind-hearted and benevolent. His failings were what Hone calls them – “clerical errors.”

1369 words.