Chapter 9
1854, the fourth week of May Saturday It feels good to be back home. Young Petal has taken a while to get used to me. I don’t think she recognised me when I walked in. The wife said that they had talked about me all the time. Three years is a long time when you are that young. The wife had gotten word to me about the death of Old Vicar Clobury. I hadn’t appreciated that he hadn’t been well for some time before he died. What hit me the hardest was arriving back just after Old William Parrott died. I had a long chat with Old Sarah. She told me that he had been prepared for his own death for quite a while. He had his own coffin boards ready well before. He left the little parrot mark to the last. Sarah told me that before he died he was still concerned about what would happen to Mary and his sons. There has been a strong wind these last few days. There are a lot of tiny apples lying on the ground. The June drop has come before the end of May again. Seems to be plenty of little apples left on the trees. I am really pleased to see most of the old faces around the village. Old Topsy is still going strong, must be nearly 80 now. His young wife Sophia can’t be 40 yet and all those Little Turveys still running up and down the village. I had a chat with Old Jim last week. He says that he is good for a few more years yet. He told me that Young Esther didn’t quite make it to see her first birthday. Sarah took it badly of course. Their son Jesse is also running around with the rest of the kids. He told me about Billy Bottle losing his wife Mary Ann. He said that it has been a blow to Old William. He had expected that it was going to be him to go first. Old Henry and Phoebe Jorden haven’t changed. They have got a new grandson now, young Edward Wallington. Not long before he turns two years old. Their daughter Ruth and son-in-law John are still living with them. Seems they are thinking that they might get into the butchering trade themselves. Old Henry told me that the Parson’s Pet accompanied Margaretta to the old Vicar’s burial in Abingdon. A few months later the Clerk and all his family set off with Margretta out of the village to live somewhere else. Nobody seems to know where they have gone, although some thought that both families came from out Abingdon way. Apparently, there was quite a scrum of vicars wanted to get their hands on old Clobury’s living. We ended up with Charles Hill, another Oxford educated man, much younger of course. Most reckon it was the new vicar’s wife that won folk over. Old Henry said that he arrived before last winter. He couldn’t have been here more than ten minutes when he started talking about sorting out the church. Old Henry wanted me to go to the Stars this evening, but I decided against it. He said that Young Thomas Gibbons has got himself a squeeze box from Oxford. It’s a funny looking thing and seems to have a mind of its own. Henry reckoned that it makes a strange sound, just like Old Jim when he has one of his wheezing attacks. Thomas has put his violin to one side now. He gets a few of us singing along of a Saturday night. Me and the wife are thinking of going to church tomorrow. The end of lent and it being the Ascension service. I would like to have a look at the new vicar and his wife as well, from what people tell me she is a pretty sight. Sunday A sunny start to the day. I had a chat with Old John and Reynolds and Ann across their fence. They both agreed that it was going to be a long hot day. Ann said that it is a good omen for the harvest and that the weather that we gets today, Ascension Day, would decide our weather for the whole of the summer. She said that the new Vicar wasn’t for the Ascension beating of the bounds that we used to have every year. She had heard that he thought it wasn’t suitable for the modern times we live in. The wife has done a good job of looking after the vegetables while I was away. Our lad seems to be doing well and has been working most days. He has been helping Old Henry at odd times, just like I used to do. Old Henry has given him and the wife the odd bit of meat from time to time. Our lad says the haymaking will be starting early this year. He says that I can go with him down Cowleys and that John Freeman will take me on for a few weeks, as long as the weather holds. I never thought I would see the day when my son gets me work. How things are changing. I met the new baker on the way to church. The wife had told me that he has just got married to Young Elizabeth Allen and he is still getting used to village ways. We saw him setting off from the bakehouse. George is his name, George Blackwell. He told us that he started as a journeyman baker with his cousin in Bicester. George went up the path ahead of us, chatting with Old Henry and Phoebe. We were greeted by the church wardens. Billy Bottle and Thomas Brown today. Looked just like I can remember his dad, Old John Brown, dressed in his Sunday best. The Jordens and the new baker turned left at the font to take their seats among the other tradesmen and women. It seemed strange not having Old William Parrot in the pew facing the font. Old Sarah Parrott was in her place as usual. Young William on one side and Mary on the other. Behind them, the Sulstons and the Horwoods. The wife had told me that Old Ann Horwood had died. We won’t be getting her shrill voice coming from the back of the church no more. Old William Parrott’s singing and “Amens” after everyone else will be missed as well. Tailor John and most of the Marlow girls to one side and the Horwoods just behind them. We made our way to the gallery stairs. They seemed to be in a bit of a sorry state. I remember William Parrott saying they needed to be replaced a while back. The third step still squeaked but even louder now. You had to step on it as the fourth step never would take much weight. When we got to the top of the stairs, we could see a fair few had taken their places in the southern gallery. We had a bit of a job to get a seat. There were more folk up there than I can remember. I recognised most as regulars at The Stars. Bill Elliott whispered that they had come to see and hear Young Thomas Gibbons play his new squeeze box. He hadn’t arrived yet. We could see Young Emma Marlow was sitting in the opposite gallery with her violin, ready for the off. She was looking quite the young lady now. Martha Bottrell was there with her clar’net and her sister, Young Elizabeth examining her flute. Old Grocer Horwood was finding it difficult to squat down and give himself enough headroom for his oboe. The Bottrells had a music stand between them. It seemed to have a job standing up on its own. Tommy Horwood knocked it over with his oboe as he was struggling to give his Adam’s apple a chance to survive in his tight collar. All most amusing to us up in the gods. We could see the church filling up. I could see that our giggling above wasn’t appreciated below. I could also see the new Vicar Hill fussing about at the front. His young wife was sat in the front pew with Sarah Brown. I didn’t know about the vicar’s wife expecting a child. Looked like it could be due any time soon. Old Ann Brown and her grown up children, Caroline and Charles, were in the pew behind. On the other side of the aisle a good few pews were taken up by the Griffin families from Muzzle Hill Farm and from Corball. John and Ann Walker were behind them. Billy Bottle joined them at the end of the pew. Young Thomas arrived with his squeeze box and took his place with the musicians. He returned the thumbs up from his mates in our gallery opposite. I could see that the vicar was looking. He didn’t understand what was going on above his head. Young Thomas gave the new vicar a thumbs up. Looked like he had never received the thumbs up before. I saw his hand move up from inside his surplice. He was clearly in two minds. He decided against returning the thumbs up and buried his head back in his vickering book. The vicar was all for getting started. He nodded to Thomas Brown who closed the door with that familiar loud clunk and then the sound of the latch falling into place. New Vicar Hill welcomed us to the church of Saint Nicholas. That seemed to be all of us, including those sitting up in the gallery. A good sign I thought. He gave a special welcome to those that only seem to come to church on special occasions. Fair enough. I had a job to understand what he was saying. He didn’t sound like he was from anywhere around here. If he had been to Oxford you would have thought that they could have taught him to talk like someone from Oxfordshire. He announced the first hymn. We were to kick off with “The eternal gates lift up their heads, the doors are opened wide” The musicians gave us a bit of a clue of the tune and we all stood up ready to give our all. There was that sound of the latch again. Seemed even louder with everyone hushed. The door opened with Old Topsy Turvey cussing and lugging his base viol. The whole church was quiet as we listened to him doing his bit of ascending the stairs. We all waited. Right on cue Topsy landed on the squeaky third step and then cussed as his foot nearly went through the fourth. We had the best view of proceedings up in the gallery. It took some time for Topsy to get to his seat on the far side. The musicians had to rise in turn to let him past. The music stand had to be reminded how to stand upright. Tom Horwood had difficulty rising from his squat position. The top of his oboe took a lump of plaster out of the ceiling which unfortunately showered the Young Bottrells in dust. The squeeze box wasn’t for missing out, it deciding that a high pitched squeal was overdue. The new vicar had to have a bit of a sit down at this stage. He consulted his vickering book but probably found nothing under Ascension Day services that covered today’s events. We got back down to business with the hymn. It was a bit difficult with the singing and the giggling at the same time. We tried hard not to look at each other up in the galleries. Psalm 23 restored some dignity. We all know where we are with “The Lord is my Shepherd, the green pastures and the still waters.” Reminded me that there is no water in the brook at all. We gave our all with “Rejoice the Lord is King!” Stirring stuff and a wonderful sound from the musicians. I could hear Young William Parrott below. He had found his voice, just like his old dad; his singing of the chorus arriving just after everyone else’s. “Rejoice, again I say, rejoice!” William followed up all four verses with his own “I say rejoice!” The new Vicar spared us a long sermon but it was a bit dull. He just read it from his vickering book. At one time I thought a bit of fire and brimstone from Old Vicar Clobury would have stopped us from dropping off. The musicians had a bit of a narrow escape during the sermon. The old bees must have got a bit hot under the roof. They were buzzing around old Topsy. He had to fend them off with his bow and his hat. It was a good job the bees didn’t wake up during one of the hymns. We finished off with “Crown Him with many crowns, the lamb upon the throne.” There was a bit of foot stomping in the gallery, folk enjoying Young Tommy on the squeeze box. At one stage I thought the whole gallery would give way. I may have been mistaken but I am sure one of the women below had inherited Old Ann’s shrill voice. It was one of the best church services I can remember. Must start going regular like. Sources & Inspirations 23 May 1853 Death of Vicar John Cleobury He was buried in St Helen’s Abingdon 28th May. His last signature in the parish records: a burial Sept 7th 1852. Henry Williams and my rationale for Old Henry using the nickname “Parson’s Pet.” Clearly Henry and his family were devoted to the Cleoburys.
The 1853 election of vicar: “an exceptionally large number of candidates was reduced to six by vote in the vestry. The first poll was equally divided between two candidates, who received 40 votes each; a second poll over two different candidates produced a vote of 42 against 28, and the winner in this contest , the Rev.d Charles Hill, became vicar.” Bullingdon Hundred. “Charles Hill, MA Lincoln College Oxford. He read himself in on 30th October 1853” His own notes. I have established that Charles was 34 years old when he arrived in Piddington and his wife Cecilia, 24. They were married just six months before. Their first child was born in Piddington in June 1854. Charles was born in Derbyshire. In 1851 Charles was Curate of Staverton parish in Northamptonshire. Cecilia was born in Quebec in the British Army garrison. Her father, grandfather and great grandfather all had very distinguished military service records. More to come on this at some stage. Church renovations 1854 – 1855 These were quite extensive and included the removal of both galleries. The new baker
Church Wardens. Thomas Brown and William Bottrill were church wardens in 1854. This was the first year for Thomas Brown. His father, John Brown, had served as church warden for 27 years. He was nominated by Vicar Cleobury in 1815, the year that John arrived in the village and took over the tenancy of Manor Farm. He died 27 years later in 1842. William Bottrill served a total of 8 years. The vickering book. In the 19th century many vicars will have worked for hours preparing and rehearsing the delivery of their, often lengthy sermons. At the same time books of pre-prepared sermons were published and often read out to congregations. Charles Hill’s preference for this day is complete speculation on my part. Burials:
Author’s Notes I decided to jump forward in time in my quest to reach the late 1850’s when a number of interesting things were happening in the village. This gave me two issues to deal with. My unexplained absence from the village – best left unexplained, and how to bring the number of births, marriages and deaths into the diary. Still a few more to be included in the next chapter. I jumped to 1854. I thought I would let the new vicar find his feet, although sad to be absent for William Parrott’s departure. I am now mid-censuses. I had been fairly comfortable describing events close to the snapshot provided by 1851 census. There are lot of changes in the village to recognise and try to make sense of in the village until we reach the next snapshot taken in 1861. Some characters will have disappeared. Will I find them in the churchyard? If not, where have they gone, and can I find them? New people appear in 1861. Were they here before that date? Can I identify this from their children, dates and places of birth? Where were they in 1851 and what were they doing? This is a slow process. Everything needs to be checked. It can also be very rewarding. There is so much more to find out about Vicar Clobury let alone all the different spellings of his name. I have avoided mention of his purchase of Brown’s Piece as described in Christine Bloxham’s books describing Flora Thompsons association with the village. At one time I was surprised to see him described as the highest bidder. Now I have seen his will I have to consider him one of the wealthiest men in the village in the middle of the 19th century. Planning for the “last performance of the musicians” has taken time. I think that this should be seen as a major event in the Piddington’s history. It is only a few weeks ago that I found out that the church had these galleries, apparently constructed in 1813 and then removed in 1854/5. A special thank you to Hazel, Andrew and Sandy for inspirational ideas for the musicians and to Margaret for suggestions of hymns and the 23rd Psalm. Thank you to Keith Innes for providing more information on the revolving door of ownership of the Seven Stars. I think it is nearly 10 weeks since I started this adventure. I am giving myself a week off writing the diary next week. I hope to find time to concentrate on writing Part 1 of the new section, ”The Big Houses.” David Cook 30th May 2020 |