{47}
Death of Mr. Joseph Goodman.—When there were no Chapel Goers In Houghton.—Great Events from Little Causes Spring.—Religious Liberty.—Lady Olivia Sparrow.—A Vow.—A Man who Decided not to Die.—Another Incident.—Indifference to What the World Might Say.—A Modest Minister of Offord.—Efforts to Curtail Influence.—Farming Profits Sixty Years Ago.
After Mr. Harcourt had accepted the invitation to become minister at Houghton, he returned to wind up affairs with his previous people, and Mr. Joseph Goodman died after a very brief illness, the particulars of which I will now record. I had now finished my apprenticeship in the mill, and used to accompany Mr. Goodman to St. Ives market. On one particular Monday, we were walking home from St. Ives together; it was near the end of September, and just as we got to the Houghton side of the bridge, over the brook on the footpath, Mr. Goodman looked at my clothing, and said he must have another and warmer great coat on before the next Monday as he felt chilly. He went home, and, I believe, never came out of the house again. He was attacked by some severe fever, and {48} died, as far as I can remember, in about a week, more or less. My father nursed him night and day, never leaving him. He was buried in the Chapel yard by the side of Mrs. Goodman, who had died two years previously. It was decided that Mr. Holland, his old minister, and Mr. Harcourt, his accepted new one, should conduct the service between them. Mr. Holland, when he found that to be so, absolutely declined to take any part whatever, and so Mr. Harcourt conducted the whole service. Mr. Goodman, in his last illness, besought my father to proceed with the religious work which they had planned to carry on together.
Since commencing these reminiscences, the Rev. James Harcourt has died at Leicester, after a brief illness, February, 1896, I believe in his 80th year. He was buried at Great Berkhamstead by the side of his first wife.
Mr. Harcourt began work at once. He was a man of strong determination and excitable temperament, but was powerful and persuasive as a preacher, having considerable pathos in his voice, and he soon began to carry his hearers with him. It must be remembered that up to now there were scarcely any chapel-goers in the parish; they were nominal members of the Church of England. It was said the only two labourers in the village making any profession of religion were a shepherd named Stowe, a Wesleyan, and a man name Billings, a High Calvinist, both of them equally good men, though so different in creed.
{49} In the course of time, a number of people became Church members, and a Rev. Mr. Pulsford came and held revival services, when more were candidates for Church membership, and before leaving Mr. Pulsford preached a sermon, subject: The Great Commission, “Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel, baptising, etc.” The effect of this sermon was a number became candidates for baptism by immersion on a profession of faith. So one Saturday, in the depth of winter, about eight, I do not know the exact number, were baptised in the river at Houghton Mill, the snow being fully three inches deep on the ground. One man, a millwright, who had not made up his mind before the ceremony commenced, was looking on from the top of the mill. At last he screwed up his courage, ran down before the ceremony was over, and was baptised in his working-clothes just as he was. His wife, who was the daughter of the Rector’s old coachman, was much annoyed with her husband, but afterwards she became a convert. A Church was now formed, and the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was regularly administered.
The declaration made on admission to membership was so broad that Baptists and Quakers, if they desired, were eligible for membership.
Matters went on smoothly for about two years, when a crisis came, which led to consequences which the author of it did not foresee, and which ultimately led to an extension of our business as millers, and was indirectly the cause of the Free Church at St. {50} Ives being built, also Trinity Church, Huntingdon. A little prior to the events recorded above, the Squire of the Parish, Gilbert Ansley, who hitherto had been non-resident, married a lady who had come from a parish in a distant part of the country, where her brother was a clergyman of considerable influence, and she was his lay curate. She found her lot now cast where the Squire, from his having been non-resident, was comparatively nobody, and two persons engaged in trade in the village were people of the most influence, and, more dreadful still, were Dissenters of an advanced sort.
Now, owing partly to the cause just described, and Mrs. Ansley being very High Church, she took great exception to the whole course that was being adopted. It is not to be wondered at, when it is remembered that the converts were previously Church-goers, and to add to the lady’s annoyance they were, from her point of view, re-baptised, and in practice, if not in theory, the Church of England baptism was ignored. The consequence was, that she went to Lady Sparrow, our landlady, and stated that my father was not only the cause of all the dissent in the parish, but also in the whole neighbourhood. She also stated that all my father’s workpeople were compelled to go to chapel, and their children to the British School. I am bound to say in justice to her, that I think she believed it, for two reasons. Firstly, she thought, the people would not go to chapel instead of church {51} if they were not compelled; and secondly, she judged my father’s procedure by her own conduct, for all her own dependents were absolutely obliged by her to go to Church, and send their children to the National School; and she, no doubt, considered my father would think it right to support his principles in the same way as she thought it right to support hers.
But, now for the facts about the alleged compulsion. No power was used in reference to either the parents or children, the proof of which was that many of the persons in my father’s employ sent their children to the National School, and no pressure was put on them to induce them to remove the children to the other school. Many of my father’s workpeople were regular attendants at the National Church, and they were under no disability whatever in consequence. I state this of my own knowledge, for, being at the time 22 to 23 years of age, I was frequently deputed to pay their wages, I then taking a responsible and active part in the business It is perfectly true that a great many workpeople and others, besides those connected with my father, forsook their Parish Church because of the inefficiency of the Rector, as described previously, and went over to the Parish Church of Hemingford Abbots, where there was a very energetic, good, Christian man, who was also a very popular preacher, viz., the Rev. Mr. Selwin. Frequently there would be a company of 100 seen crossing the meadow to go to Hemingford Church, because they could get no spiritual benefit at {52} their own Parish Church. I may say here in passing, that Mr. Goodman and my father, prior to the time I am recording, would frequently go to hear Mr. Selwin, accompanied by their families, because no spiritual good was to be obtained from the Nonconformist Minister at St. Ives.
Lady Olivia Sparrow was willing and ready to believe Mrs. Ansley’s statements, and her ladyship was backed up in the course she had decided to take by many of the clergy in the neighbourhood. The consequence was that her steward had instructions to give my father notice to leave the farm in six months, the usual time before the law was altered. My father had several interviews with her ladyship in order to deny the statements Mrs. Ansley had made, and he besought her to come to the parish to investigate the truth or falseness of the charges brought against him, but she declined to do so. I believe he had two interviews with her, and she tried to make a bargain with him, and made two conditions, by which, if complied with, she would withdraw the notice, and let him continue in the occupation of the farm. The first was, part with the minister, Mr. Harcourt. The reply was, “I dare not; he has been much blessed by God in his work, and when I say that, you, as a Christian lady, will understand what that means.” The other condition was, “You must abandon your practice of calling on the parents of the absentee children to know the causes of their non-attendance at school.” My father refused to comply with that demand. Also, I may {53} say here that the six months’ notice to leave the farm was extended to 12 months, while these negotiations were going on.
As a last resource, my father memorialised her ladyship in a carefully-worded paper, which, it appears, she showed to Mr. Edward Fellowes, one of the Tory members for the County. It was reported to my father that after he had carefully read it through, he laid it down and said, “You must be careful, my lady; you have a dangerous man to deal with.” Note the word dangerous. Why? Because he did nothing more than follow the dictates of his conscience in seeking the religious well-being of his neighbours in the village where he lived.
Thanks to the depression in agriculture, and the consequent difficulty in letting farms, the large landowners cannot to the same extent exercise the arbitrary power they did formerly. And though I am a considerable loser, I do not altogether regret the depression.
I might state here that many landlords would not have a Dissenter as a tenant on their estates. Such was the fact with the colleague in Parliament of Mr. Edward Fellowes, viz., Mr. Thornhill, of Diddington. Mr. Fellowes, I think, made no distinction between Churchmen and Dissenters, but he expected all his tenants to vote for him.
Mr. Selwin, above named, at first took the same view as Mrs. Ansley, but when my father had an interview with him, and convinced him the charges were false, I have pleasure in recording he expressed sorrow for having {54} taken any part against my father, and said he would go to Lady Sparrow and use his influence to induce her to re-consider her decision. He did so, but without success.
Mr. Samuel Gurney, the great bill-broker, called upon her ladyship when she was staying in London at her hotel, but as soon as he put his head into the door of her sitting-room she exclaimed: “I know what you have come for, Mr. Gurney; it is about Mr. Brown and the farm. I have made a vow to God that he shall go out.” And go he did, at the expiration of the notice.
My father was much urged afterwards to show Lady Sparrow up in the Religious Press, but he said, “No, she is a Christian woman, she has made a mistake through being misled.” Some year or so afterwards, Lady Sparrow, though she never made any acknowledgment of having been in error, treated my father with considerable courtesy, and on one occasion employed him to negotiate to get someone in whom she was interested out of a difficulty into which he had fallen.
My father frequently in after times used to say to me, “It is impossible to approach Mrs. Ansley and be on good terms, but do not you let the dispute between her and me extend to the next generation, that is, between yourself and her children.”
Here is an incident showing how my father protected the poorer Dissenters if they suffered loss on account of their religion. A chapel was built in the village of Hartford, {55} and was then under the care of the Houghton Church. The clergyman at Hartford on one occasion gave blankets away, omitting to give any to the Dissenters. So my father first went to the clergyman and remonstrated with him for making such a distinction. He attempted to justify himself, and my father replied that he should immediately take steps to remedy the omission (without, however, telling him how). So he bought sufficient blankets to give every Dissenter one each. “Now,” he said, “I don’t think the parson hasLine from below accidentally repeated then bought double the number, and then gave every poor person in the parish, both Church people and Dissenters, one each. “Now,” he said, “I don’t think the parson has gained much for his Church by his partiality.”
My father, however, under ordinary circumstances, was very careful not to pauperise the people, or make them hypocrites by his charities (the case just recorded was an exceptional one). He used constantly to say to lazy or spend-thrift people, if they applied to him for relief, “No, if you will not work, neither shall you eat.” On one occasion a journeyman blacksmith in the village, a superior workman, came to my father to relieve him in his poverty brought on by his own conduct through drinking to excess. My father said he would not relieve such a reprobate. The man replied, “I shall die of starvation then.” They were talking on the Houghton Village Green, and my father said to him, “Lie down here and die at once; it is the best thing you can do.” {56} It seemed hard, but it had its effect, and for sometime after that the man kept steadily at work, instead of dying. My father made a good rule, however (I think it was a good one), in which he made no distinction in his charities, viz., if people of unworthy character fell ill or had become extremely old, he would relieve them, notwithstanding, because he would say, “However bad they have been, they cannot help themselves now.”
At the Board of Guardians my father would have refused the tramp relief, but the other Guardians were afraid the applicant would be unable to get work, and might die of starvation. So when the applicant said he was willing to work, but could not obtain it, my father would say, “Don’t relieve him, put the test to him; I will give him work.” The fact was, my father had a great heap of large stones picked off his farm at Wyton. The man had a tool supplied him, and was set to work to break them. As a rule they soon decamped, but on one occasion a tramp stopped the best part of a week. Talking to his foreman, my father said, “Dring, I am afraid this man is going to beat us, and stop on.” But, like the rest, he decamped at last. The test answered its purpose.
Perhaps no man was so absolutely indifferent as to what people said against him. On one occasion he said he was getting old. I replied, “What makes you think so? You seem very vigorous.” He replied, “Formerly, if people said anything reflecting in any way on my conduct, I did not care a bit, but now it annoys me.” Sometimes in the non-caring {57} period of his life someone would come to him in a towering rage and say, “You have been saying so-and-so about me,” expecting my father would say what he had said was true or deny he had said it. My father, however, would simply reply, “What then?” which made them boil over, if possible, more than ever. I do not think this was a trait in his character to be imitated.
On one occasion a good but very modest man, who was the Minister at the village of Offord, wishing to meet my father before he left home, drove over about breakfast time, and, instead of coming to the house, tied his horse to a rail, and then sat down and ate his breakfast which he had brought with him, under the wagon hovel. My father discovered and reprimanded him, for thinking so badly of him, as to suppose he would not entertain him. Then, in spite of the good man protesting he was not hungry, because he had just finished his breakfast, my father made him come into the house and eat another breakfast. The minister’s name was Flowers.
After the farm was given up, we continued in the occupation of the mill. The mill lease, on the occasion of the interview with Lady Sparrow, was about expiring, and she dropped some remark which led my father to suppose she would deprive him of the mill also, which led him to say so to her. She immediately replied, “I have no intention of depriving you of the tenancy of the mill.” My father at once took her at her word, and {58} said, “Then I may see your steward, Mr. Dent, and say I have your authority to tell him to take the necessary steps to renew the lease?” She replied “Yes,” and so the lease was renewed. In one of the above interviews her ladyship said something which caused my father to say, intending to convey to her that she was not as powerful as she might be over him in reference to the mill and the farm, “I was born, and have lived, in Houghton all my life, and in Houghton I shall continue until I die,” which caused her to say, “I do not wish to disturb you in the mill, but only to curtail your power in the parish.”
The farm, to re-let it, was taken out of the hands of the Steward and placed in Mrs. Ansley’s, but she did not succeed in finding a tenant, and it came back to the Steward, who let it to the late Mr. William Looker—his youngest son, Mr. John Looker, now holds it (January 7th, 1896), but he is intending to give it up next Michaelmas. Before leaving this subject, I must record one or two incidents connected with it. It came to my knowledge a day or two ago, (January, 1896), that one day my father went to his coachman, John Pick, and said, “Put your best clothes on quickly, and drive to Brampton Park as fast as you can.” John Pick states what was very unusual, my father did not open his mouth to speak once either going or returning. Some time afterwards the order came again, “Drive to Brampton Park.” Again my father did not utter a word going, but on returning, as soon as they were out of the Park, my father said, “John, it is all up.” I {59} presume my father thought his man knew what was going on, but John replied, “What is all up?; I don’t understand you,” and then my father explained what was up.
I may here say that the farm at that time produced an income of £700 per annum.
Such was the sacrifice some Dissenters had to make for their principles at that time.