anniversary rhymes in BRETT'S GAZETTE:
One Daniel Wimble died, in 'Thirty-seven,
Whose spirit, let us hope, is gone to heaven.
Before that spirit was on earth laid low
No greater spirit did the writer know -
Id est, whose love of spirits was so great
That hardly could he find an equal mate.
Night after night, of brandy-grog or flip,
A dozen glasses he could sip and tip.
Ready made Coffins - Rev. W. Whistler's Eccentricities
On the tenth of March a certain beniface whose house of call was also in Bourne street, ventured to joke with a carpenter upon his charge for coffins, and offered 20s. for "a full-grown one." Taken at his word, the publican was presented, next morning, with the very article for which he had stipulated, but which he said he had not the remotest idea would be forthcoming. The coffin had been made, however, according to proposal, and the maker demanded his money. What was to be done? There were witnesses to the bargain,but as the purveyor of beer was not ready for the other bier, and as the undertaken had undertaken a contract upon alleged false issues, the latter must keep the coffin until he could find a tenant for it. As the story was bruited, however, a compromise was ultimately effected; and although it was literally a grave subject for amusement, it served thereafter for many a laugh that the publican's verbal joke should have been turned against him in such a practical manner. The occurrence reminds one of the coffin that was made for the Rev. Webster Whistler, some years before, and which was possessed by that generally intelligent but somewhat eccentric clergyman for several years ere the necessity arose for its use. Mr. Whistler had even provided himself with the coffin boards before they were worked into shape; but, after a time, by some mysterious means, these boards were found to have disappeared. A guinea was offered by the venerable rector to whomsoever should discover the whereabouts of the lost boards, but a considerable time elapsed before the discovery was made. Mr. Whistler's residence was at 22 High street, and in it rear was a garden which extended to the Bourne. One day, at the bottom of this garden, a youth named Edwin Mose, the son of a neighbouring tradesman, was working with a man named Ben. Butchers - the well-known "dog whipper" at the church - when the lost boards were found at a few inches below the surface of the ground. The old rector was much affected by this discovery; and, taking out his tobacco-box, extracted from beneath the narcotic weed a guinea, which he urged the youthful finder to accept "for my word's sake." Master Edward, by his mother's advice, declined to take the reward. But, much as the venerable pastor cherished the possession of his guineas, he continued to combat the youngster's scruples with the same forcible argument, "For my word's sake!" The tobacco-box, it may be explained, was an old-fashioned one of polished iron or steel, in which it was Mr. Whistler's custom to carry a gold coin or two beneath a piece of paper which separated the money from the legitimate contents of the box. It should also be stated that the reverend gentleman had to undertake occasional journeys to Newtimber, near Brighton, where he was rector both before and after he received the Hastings benefice; and as he lived in days of footpads and body-snatchers, the wisdom of carrying a few coins secretly in his tobacco-box for casual requirements will not be questioned. But, to return to the coffin boards - which if they came not from Newtimber, were certainly cut from new timber - their rev. proprietor sought to lessen the chances of a second disappearance by having them at once made into a coffin, which, it used to be said, he kept under his bed. In this singularity no one who knew Mr. Whistler's practical and unsophisticated piety would judge him to be actuated by a spirit of levity; no! not even when replying to the question, "What if the coffin be not long enough?" he suggested decapitation as an expedient. If anyone challenges the accuracy of this story of a coffin, his challenge will be met by the rector's own reference to it. In an epistolary correspondence with his son, on Dec. 18th 1829, he wrote, "With respect to your remark as to a new outfit of clothes (which I take as was meant very kindly), I am rather stagnated! for although at this age (81) I must not look forward to providing more than a wooden case for clothing (which I have done), yet I have been induced (to look well as you say) to have a handsome great coat and a body suit which I have not yet tried on, though brought home more than a month ago; so that I may fairly presume I am fully provided with all the materials necessary to carry me from this world to a better."
That the son's reminder of the necessity to look well was not altogether out of place is shown by the following anecdote. A gentleman, one morning, led his affianced to the hymeneal altar at All Saints' church, and after the rite had been performed he tendered the fee of a guinea to Mr. Whistler with the remark that if he (Mr. Whistler) as the officiating clergyman, had worn a clean shirt on that auspicious occasion, the fee would have been voluntarily doubled. Now, although in his old age Mr. Whistler was less studious of his toilette than might be desirable, methinks that had he been able to foresee the consequence in this particular instance, he would have made an exception. Albeit, there are several marriage tales in connection with the ministrations of the Rector of Hastings, from which I select the few following. - On the 12th or 13th of February, 1817, Mr. Edward Milward (originally Mileward) was married to Sarah, daughter of the Rev. William Whitear, and on the Sunday following, Mr. Whistler alluded to the event in a letter to his son thus :- Nothing material has happened here but Mr. Milward's marriage. The town is all alive about it. They gave the ringers £5 and the strewers £5. We all went to visit the Miss Milwards and eat cake, for they sat in state to receive congratulations." As the happy couple took their departure for London, the Rector further says, "The complimentary fee, unfortunately, will be deferred until I see him (Milward), but better late than never." Milward's marriage with the lady who was afterwards destined to have the Earl of Waldegrave for a second husband, was, of course, a fait accompli, but what now follows relates only to a possible marriage in prospective. When, in November, 1824, the "Suburbs" of Hastings were inundated by the greatest spring tide of the present century, and George street was temporarily converted into a river, Mr. Whistler was conveyed on a man's back to Messrs. Mannington's (now Alderton and Shrewsbury's) shop, and there set down on the steps above the reach of the water. Being asked "Are you married?" the volunteer carrier replied in the negative, and was assured that if such an event should happen in the life-time of the Rector the marriage service should be performed gratuitously. At a later period, when being called upon to marry a couple of Hastings people Mr. Whistler displayed both his sense of propriety and his liberality. One or more of the wedding party on presenting themselves at the church, having exhibited indications of intoxication, the clergyman desired them to go home, get themselves sober, and come to him next day in a sensible and reverential condition. The order was complied with, and Mr. Whistler showed his approval by refusing to allow any fee to be paid either to clergyman or clerk.
So much for marriages; and now for a few christening anecdotes. An uncle of mine, when he was a comparatively young man, promised to be sponsor to his sister's child, and when the morning came for the christening to be done, the young man was at hide and seek in consequence of a transaction in which he played an important part. The child and its parents were present at the church, and parson Whistler - as it was the fashion to designate the rector - had been kept waiting at the font, when the belated sponsor hurried in with an apology upon his lips. "There, never mind," said the old gentleman, "I know all about it, but don't do it again." I am not sure that an Easter offering or some other offering did not find its way after that to the Rector's residence, nor am I certain that the said offering met with a refusal merely because it had been imported by "Freetraders" free of duty. But the term Easter Offering brings to mind another little story connected with the worthy Rector. Not far from his residence was a house of business from which he drew his supply of tobacco and several other necessaries or luxuries; and on one occasion, after watching with apparent interest the unpacking of a set of handsome jugs with metal lids (at that time quite a novelty), he suggested their fitness as an Easter Offering, and personally conveyed them to the Rectory, apparently on the supposition that silence gave consent. But such consent was found to have been negatived when in due time the articles were charged for in the account.
There was at most times a smack of honest bluntness about this clerical celebrity which did not always find favour with those who preferred softness to sincerity; but, as a rule, the humbler sort of his parishioners paid deference to his judgment or listened to his advice. Such was not the case, however, with the parents of the youth who found the boards. I had described him as Edwin, but I learn that that was not his baptismal name; for, when in the youth's infancy the name was uttered at the font, Mr. Whistler declared that Edwin was not an English name, and he should therefore christen the child as Edward. He was as good as his word but despite the baptismal record, the parents' wish was practically observed, and their offspring was known as Edwin during the rest of his life. Another objection of this character was made at a later date, and this time, perhaps, with a greater show of reason, when it was proposed to give to a child the name of Charlotte Cordelia Blades Burfield. "I shan't christen the child all those names," said the aged rector. "But I insist upon it," retorted the sponsor. "Whose youngster is it and who are you?" rejoined the parson. On being informed that the child belonged to Mr. James Burfield, of White-rock street, and that the sponsor was the daughter of Col. Blades, of the Croft, Mr. Whistler gave in, and muttered as he proceeded to the baptism, "Oh! its old Jim Burfield, is it? I suppose I must then."
Having mentioned the name of Butchers in connection with the coffin boards, I will now describe a little scene in which he and the clergyman were the only actors. Butchers had been employed to white-wash the belfry of St. Clement's church - a sort of work to which he was not unaccustomed - and whilst thus employed, he whistled a secular tune of quick pulsation, the time being marked by a corresponding movement of the brush. Being admonished by the Rector with a reminder of the inappropriateness of whistling a tune of the "Money Musk" character in a place of worship, Butchers apologised for his inadvertence, and immediately reduced his time-beating stroke to the measure of the "Old Hundredth." "Oh!" exclaimed the economical Rector - who was himself a Whistler - "if work and whistle are to go together, you had better resume your old tune." The old gentleman, I believe, never claimed to be better than other men merely on the ground of his profession, and hence the saying was attributed to him, "Don't do as I do, but as I say you are to do." And really some of his sayings, if not altogether terse, were certainly not without a dash of wit; which last word, if I might be permitted to repeat, I would say the following to wit:- On being told by an officer of the Old Friendly Society - for which he used to preach an annual sermon - that a clergyman in another town only charged a guinea for his club-sermon, whilst he charged two guineas, the facetious Rector replied "Oh! you can have a guinea sermon you know, but it will be wretched stuff." In that case I presume it would not have compared favourably with the sermons of Mr. Whistler's contemporary at Crowhurst, who, as the latter's wife informed some of her friends always bought the very best of sermons.
I could describe a few other eccentricities of the late venerable pastor of Hastings, who continued his ministrations (mostly without assistance) until he was 82 years of age, but I must hasten on. It may be here said, however, that for the strict accuracy of every anecdote that has been given I do not hold myself personally responsible. Most of them have been culled from my lumber room of memory, where they were stored many years ago, as being commonly current in social conversation even before Mr. Whistler's demise; whilst some of the circumstances were related to me by ear or eye witnesses whose veracity I have no reason to doubt. My own habitation, moreover, was for several years in close proximity to St. Clement's church, and I was, therefore, not altogether a stranger to some of the scenes here depicted. I conclude my notice of Mr. Whistler with a brief enumeration of a few principal events in that gentleman's career.
1747 - Born at Stowood, near Oxford.
1770 - Took his B.A. degree at Cambridge.
1774 - Presented with the living at Newtimber, in Sussex.
