CONSTABLE ABOUT THE PARISH a perfect feel-good read from one of Britain’s best-loved authors (Constable Nick Mystery Book 17)

by Nicholas Rhea

  ‘That wouldn’t be too difficult,’ Tony admitted. ‘You just keep people out of the barn or chapel during construction by saying it’s too dangerous to come in . . . but this is a very exciting find, Mr Goodwin. So what are you going to do with it?’

  ‘If it was a cellar, I’d make sure it was incorporated in the house,’ he said, ‘but summat as historic as this, well, I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Lots of houses in these parts have pre-Reformation chapels and other portions built into them. They’re part of our Catholic heritage. It is your property, Mr Goodwin, and I doubt if anyone could compel you to retain this, or to give up your building alterations.’

  ‘If I was to get my money back, I’d happily hand it over to the authorities,’ said Duncan Goodwin. ‘They might convert it into a youth club, somewhere for the kids to come on a night; with that crypt downstairs and all this space upstairs, it would make a smashing youth club or social centre.’

  ‘Would you like me to generate some publicity on those lines?’ asked Lyddington.

  ‘Aye, why not?’ grinned Duncan.

  And so the story of the Aidensfield Crypt was featured in the local papers along with photographs and line drawings of what it must have been like during its use as a modest church. Several local businessmen, along with the bishop of the Catholic diocese at Middlesbrough and the Archbishop of York, joined forces to raise enough money to buy the property from Duncan, and then have it converted into a social centre for the entire village. The crypt is now part of that centre, with access via that ancient stone staircase. The blocked-up windows have been re-opened and glazed, the dirt on the floor removed, and the entire crypt sympathetically restored. A committee comprising representatives from all the churches in the village, and various other organizations, was formed, a table tennis table was installed at one end and a juke box was positioned at the other.

  I’m not sure whether the saints of old would have approved of the music, but it did get the youngsters of Aidensfield off the street. And for a village policeman, that is a very worthy and useful thing to do! There were one or two questions about whether it was proper for something which had once been a church, albeit many centuries ago, to be used for secular purposes; Tony recalled the case when the Knights Templar were disbanded and the question arose about what should happen to their lands. A suitably religious purpose had to be found, and so they were given to the Knights Hospitallers of Jerusalem, but such transfers were no longer essential. So long as the church had been deconsecrated, it could be used for non-religious purposes.

  And the Crypt, as it became widely known? It is still the focus for the young people of the area and the older residents welcome its presence because it keeps all the noise of strident pop music away from the village.

  10

  Thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege?

  Rom 2.22

  To my knowledge, the above reference to sacrilege is the only time the word occurs in the Bible but it must be taken in the context in which St Paul used it. He was asking whether those who taught others had first taught themselves about the subject in which they professed to be an expert, or whether those who said it was wrong to steal actually themselves stole things. He went on to ask whether the man who said it was wrong to commit adultery would himself commit adultery and finally asked whether those who hated idols would themselves commit sacrilege. In short, and to use a modern term, St Paul says we should practise what we preach!

  I am not sure what the word ‘sacrilege’ meant in his time, but in English law and thus for the constabularies of England and Wales, it was the name given to a crime with ecclesiastical links. It remained on the statute book until 1968 when it was replaced by burglary. Of all the crimes that could be committed with particular reference to churches, sacrilege was the one which most frequently presented operational police officers with procedural problems.

  There were other church-orientated offences — blasphemy was the use of language which vilified either the Christian faith of the Bible, particularly if the language used was obscene or indecent. Dating from the twelfth century, it was the crime of attacking Christianity and bringing it into contempt, or attempting to corrupt public morale, or to shock and insult believers.

  Throughout my police service, I never personally encountered a prosecution for blasphemy, a common law offence, even though I have heard some tasteless and obnoxious references to God and his church. So far as I know, the only prosecutions this century in Britain occurred in 1921 and again in 1977.

  Another ecclesiastical offence which most police officers can remember from their days at training school was known as ‘brawling in a churchyard’. Claude Jeremiah Greengrass was convicted of this offence in 1960, which was before my arrival at Aidensfield, but whenever I quizzed him about precisely what he had done to acquire such a conviction, he refused to enlighten me. The brawling offence could be prosecuted under the Ecclesiastical Courts Jurisdiction Act of 1860 and the offender could be arrested by either a constable or a church warden. This covered riotous, violent or indecent behaviour in any place of religious worship at any time, or in any churchyard or burial ground. A similar offence involved any wilful and malicious or contemptuous disturbance of persons assembled for religious worship, or any interference with the person officiating or of any of those assembled.

  Clergymen were protected too. It was an offence to obstruct, prevent or endeavour to obstruct or prevent any clergyman from celebrating divine service or officiating in a divine service or at a funeral. Likewise, violence towards the clergy while officiating in their duties was outlawed, as was any molestation or disturbance of a clergyman during his official duties, whether in church or chapel or at a burial ground.

  Bigamy might also be described as an offence against religion, although marriage is now a civil contract as well as a religious ceremony. This is the crime committed when a person who is legally married goes through a lawful form of marriage during the life of the former husband or wife. It has been described as ‘an outrage against public decency’, and the criminal law of this country has long regarded it as a very serious crime. A standing joke among police officers is that the penalty for committing bigamy is two mothers-in-law.

  There are many other offences which specifically involve the clergy during the practice of their duties, but few, if any, are of interest to the police. But beyond all doubt, the most common offence dealt with by the police specifically so far as churches were concerned, was sacrilege. Stripping lead from church roofs was not regarded as sacrilege, however, because the crime occurred outside the building. This crime was also perpetrated upon large country houses and other buildings like museums or town halls, but in all cases, it was recorded as larceny and/or malicious damage even if a church was the victim.

  So far as sacrilege was concerned, there were times when it was not recorded in the crime statistics as sacrilege. That happened because sacrilege was a very serious crime, equating with robbery, rape and murder, and it was more sensible to record some instances as simple larceny. This is the reason.

  In 1968, the crime of sacrilege, along with many others, was removed from our statute book, but in my time at Aidensfield, it continued to feature in our criminal statistics as defined by Section 24 of the Larceny Act, 1916.

  It was committed by any person who broke and entered a place of divine worship and committed any felony therein. It was also committed by those who broke out of any place of divine worship, having committed a felony therein.

  A simple example would occur when a person opened the door of a church to gain entry and then stole candlesticks from the altar. By merely opening the door, they had ‘broken’ into the building. If the church door was standing open, however, and the thief simply walked through it and stole candlesticks, then it was not sacrilege. That would be simple larceny, or theft as it is now known.

  The essence of the crime of sacrilege was breaking into the building — and the important factor was th
at the mere opening of a closed door or window was regarded as ‘breaking’.

  A felony included any serious crime like theft, rape, robbery or murder — so if a man opened the door of a church and went inside, then raped a woman at prayer, he would commit both rape and sacrilege, the sacrilege arising from the fact he had broken in and committed a felony, i.e., a serious crime, not necessarily one of stealing. The statute also catered for people who entered a church lawfully — perhaps to examine the premises — and then concealed themselves in order to steal something, later opening the door to leave or breaking out to escape.

  In our training sessions, we argued the meaning of ‘place of divine worship’ and concluded it could apply to a tin shack if people gathered there for a divine service and it certainly included the churches or chapels of faiths other than the established Church of England.

  We also learned that places within the church building, such as the vestry or bell tower, were regarded as ‘a place of divine worship’ so long as they were not structures quite separate from the church itself, in the style of some belfries or towers.

  In deciding whether or not a crime should be recorded as sacrilege, a curious instance arose on the moors and it caused Sergeant Blaketon to worry about the meaning of ‘place of divine worship’. One of the monks of Maddleskirk Abbey, Father Maurice, decided that he would like to live as a hermit. He had decided that the modern monks of the abbey, with their centrally heated cells, ready supply of food, access to cars, telephone and televisions, were not really living in the manner expected of a monk. Maurice, a sincere young fellow from Liverpool, was given permission by the abbot to occupy a cave on the moors above Lairsbeck, there to live like a hermit.

  It would be for a trial period of six months. The Lairsbeck Cave had existed for thousands of years, and in the twelfth century had been home to a hermit called Joseph; it had often been used as a temporary dwelling house by itinerants and in the seventeenth century it was occupied for several years by a man called Giles St George, who was not a monk. He had carved himself a table, chair and bed out of the solid limestone at the back of the cave, thus considerably extending the interior. The cave now had a lounge, bedroom and spare room at the back. When Giles left, no one else felt inclined to live in it and it survived as a curiosity.

  With no doorway and open to all, these stone furnishings became a tourist attraction, and so the cave became well known to hikers, visitors, pilgrims and, sadly, vagrants, tramps, squatters and other unwelcome residents. Youngsters assembled there at weekends and used it for orgies and drinking parties before Lairsbeck Estate, which owned it, decided to instal a thick, heavy door. They fitted a solid wooden one which contained a small window. Visitors could peer inside at the renowned stone furniture, but were forbidden entry without express permission.

  Thus, the cave became secure from trespassers and wild animals. With the door in place, it was fairly cosy, being dry inside, cool in summer and warm in winter. It was to this place that Brother Maurice sallied forth full of prayer, worthy ideals and holy thoughts. He took few belongings, enough to dress and feed himself as well as the vessels and books necessary to say daily mass, and he did have the support of people who knew him. They would take him extra food if he needed it and in return, he would say mass for their intentions.

  Skilled in self-sufficiency, he managed to survive on fruit, berries and wild creatures like rabbits and fish, his only modern concession being a small portable typewriter. He was to use this to keep notes about his experience, both from the practical and spiritual points of view. Then one day, when he was in the woods picking berries and inspecting his rabbit snares, someone sneaked into the cave and stole his typewriter. It was a couple of days before I was told — he had been out of the cave for about three hours, between 8.30 a.m. and 11.30 a.m., and had left the door closed, but unlocked.

  He’d returned to find his precious typewriter missing — nothing else had been stolen.

  ‘Shall I record it as sacrilege, Sergeant?’ I put to Sergeant Blaketon when I returned to Ashfordly police station.

  ‘Sacrilege? Don’t be stupid, Rhea! That cave is not a place of divine worship!’

  ‘It is,’ I said. ‘He’s a fully ordained monk; he says mass there every day in a portion set aside as his personal chapel. His supporters are always welcome to join him at mass, as they sometimes do, so it is a church.’

  ‘It’s a dwelling house, Rhea. He lives there.’

  ‘It’s a cave, Sergeant.’

  ‘Cave-breaking is not an offence under the Larceny Act, Rhea. People had stopped living in caves by the time it was enacted.’

  ‘The crime at the cave was a breaking offence, Sergeant,’ I said. ‘Somebody opened the door, made an illegal entry and got away with his typewriter, worth twenty-five pounds.’

  ‘I know it’s a crime, Rhea, but what crime, precisely?’

  ‘The typewriter was kept in the part he uses for mass, so it was sacrilege.’ I didn’t really believe what I was saying, but from time to time, did like to wind up Sergeant Blaketon, particularly so far as the interpretation of rules and regulations were concerned. ‘It’s more than mere simply larceny.’

  ‘It’s not burglary because it happened in the daylight hours,’ he mused. ‘I’d go for housebreaking, Rhea. It is a permanent structure and it is used as a dwelling house; tents, caravans and fairground booths are not permanent structures, Rhea, so they cannot be classified as dwelling houses, but this place is. Crime it as housebreaking.’

  ‘Not storebreaking?’ I said, tongue in cheek.

  ‘Storebreaking?’ boomed Blaketon.

  ‘He keeps his belongings there . . .’

  ‘You’re playing games with me, Rhea!’ he grinned. ‘Housebreaking it is, not sacrilege, not burglary, not storebreaking, not warehousebreaking or not schoolhousebreaking.’

  ‘How about officebreaking?’ I smiled. ‘Or pavilionbreaking, or workshopbreaking . . .’

  ‘Housebreaking, Rhea!’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant.’

  We never traced Father Maurice’s typewriter but the theft did highlight some of the legal fiction which was employed by the law, and further queries were raised about the precise meaning of ‘place of divine worship’.

  For example, there were some tricky questions about private chapels inside the great houses of this country and I cannot remember whether, if someone broke into such a chapel, it would constitute the offence of sacrilege or not. The question was whether a private chapel, deep within a large mansion, used wholly or mainly by the resident family and with access only through the mansion, was a place of divine worship. It was feasible that a visitor to the mansion could divert into the chapel for an unlawful purpose, and then steal something valuable from the altar. But would that be sacrilege? There was no offence of private chapelbreaking so what else could it be?

  In the Middle Ages, the offence of sacrilege served as a protection of holy objects which were kept in a holy place. People who stole things like vestments, ornaments, chalices or any property belonging to the church were regarded as stealing from God, hence the seriousness of this crime. If someone stole an object left in the church by a worshipper, say a glove or a purse, the ancient law said this was not sacrilege but merely theft. Some tried to say the crime involved robbing a church, but the term ‘robbery’ suggests some kind of physical violence towards a person, and this was not present in most cases of theft from churches, such as galloping off with the candlesticks.

  Other authorities felt the crime should be named burglary because it was breaking into the House of God, but sacrilege could be committed during the daylight hours, whilst (until 1968) burglary was limited to the night hours between 9 p.m. and 6 a.m.

  Following a few centuries of debate, the crime of sacrilege was firmly placed on the English statute book in 1916 by the Larceny Act of that year and, upon reading the wording of the section, it extended the crime to protect any object within a place of divine worship. It was not restri
cted to holy or religious items used in church services. It could include the church bell, a grasscutter kept in the bell tower, hymn books, money placed in offertory boxes or even personal belongings left behind by a member of the congregation.

  Quite simply, under the 1916 legislation, if someone broke into a place of divine worship and stole something, they committed the crime of sacrilege irrespective of the nature or value of the item taken.

  The effect of this was that, on many occasions, country constables found themselves having to consider the crime of sacrilege whenever a parish church was raided by a thief or thieves. Bearing in mind that the crime carried a maximum sentence of life imprisonment, it was a very serious matter, and if lots of serious crimes filled the columns of our quarterly returns of crime statistics, it appeared that we were not doing our duty.

  If, however, the church door was open to admit the felonious person or persons, then, if they stole something, the crime was simple larceny — this was a much lesser crime and looked far better in the crime statistics. It was amazing how many church doors were left open to admit thieves and thus make our crime statistics less alarming!

  During my time at Aidensfield, my beat embraced several neighbouring villages which provided me with seven Anglican parish churches, five Catholic churches and a Catholic abbey containing an additional huge church, thirty-six chapels, six Methodist chapels, a Quaker meeting house, a Russian Orthodox church in a caravan, several private chapels in stately homes and castles, and sundry other places of divine worship including the hermit’s cave. It was to be expected that I might have to deal with sacrilege from time to time, but in fact the incidence of sacrilege was very low while simple larceny from churches was fairly common.

  This was because the church doors were open to admit the wrongdoers, which, it could be argued, is the reason for the existence of the churches. The idea was that they should not sin while inside; however, unfortunately, many did. They were quite capable of stealing anything from cassocks to hassocks.