Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-03-06
TRAGIC BOYCOTT
OF ENGLISH VICAR
Special Correspondence of The star.

just come to light through the suicide of
one of It's victims. fourteen-y ear-old girl,
/ the daughter of the Rev. William Bryant
| Of Stoke Lyme. Notwithstanding his tragic
! bereavement, which has evoked expressions
| OF sympathy from all over the country, the
1T5 inhabitants of that benighted Oxford
shire hamlet still continue the boycott of
| their vicar with undated vigor. None of
! them will enter his church: none of them
| win do stroke of work for him, and he
| has even to prepare his own meals.
| What renders the case all the more re-
| markabie is the entire absence. apparently,
| of any good reasons why he should be sub
| Jected to such cruel treatment. The worse
/ that can be said of him is that he has
| been unfortunate in his domestic relations
and did not get along with some of his par
| ishioners. Even his worst enemies do not
! accuse him OF any such moral turpitude as
/ would justify stunning him like d creature
| accursed. He declares that the boycott Is
| the result OF coercion exercised against the
! parisnioners by some powerful local mag
| mates who are bent on driving him from
his church. And he refuses to be driven.
Mr.. Bryant is an M A. of Oxford, bril-
| liant scholar and an eloquent preacher. At
| the two previous livings which he had oc-
| cupied he had given entire satisfaction and
| at one of them he had established church
/ institute, where he was wont to lecture on
| astronomy. He went to Stoke Lyme in 1892.
He gave offense to some of his parishioners
| by refusing to permit the school room at
| tached to the church to be used for smok-
! ing concerts He wounded the dignity OF
charwoman who had been engaged to
| clean the church, by telling her that he did
| not consider 1t good manners on her part to
| sit down in his presence while he himself
| stood He gave offense to Sir Algernon and
Lady Peyton by demonstrating with a gov
ernesS In their employ for remaining seat
| ed during the recital of certain portions of
| the church service, when it is customary
| for all the congregation to stand. After
an6 DIV
| no more to the church and Sir Algernon re-
| signed his churchwardenship.
so far as relates to his treatment of his
| parishioners in his official capacity these
constitute the most serious charges made
| against him. No would venture 10
affirm that such acts, even If the worst
| possible construction were placed upon
| them, would justify the application of
| boycott more merciless and persistent than
| was ever witnessed in Ireland.
Apparently It was the infeIicity of Mr..
Bryant's domestic relations-matters which
are commonly regarded as a mans own
| private concerns-which gave the greatest
| umbrage to his Pensioners. He had mar
| ried widow with two daughters 1t is no
| Unusual thing for men who marry widows
| with children to find connubial life anything
| but blissful. Just whose fault it was i'll
| this case isn't clear, and 1t doesn't matter
much. Both of Mr.. Bryant's stepdaughters
| left him, and four years ago his wife fol-
! lowed suit.
Mr. Bryant thought 1t was mainly out
side interference which had wrecked his
| family life, and was injudicious enough to
| express the opinion, from his pulpit that
| someone in the parish had done the mis-
| chief. This was the signal for the applica-
| ton of the boycott in full force. The Or
| ganist, choir parish clerk and all the other
| officials and hirelings of the church. down
| to the church-cleaner resigned and all the
| wQrShiDprS abandoned their news. The
| room in which he was accustomed to hold
| a Sunday school was locked against him.
After that, save for a chance wayfarer or
| two who happened to stray in, his own little
| daughter, Emily, was the only attendant at
| the church services. She was ten years
| old when the boycott against him was pro
| claimed. She shared his lonely life after
| his servants had left him. She seems TO
have been a peculiarly precocious and
! sensitive child, and her sympathy with her
/ father, rather than the conduct OF the
| neighbors toward herself, personally,
| caused her life to be as isolated as his own:
| She did not go to school, because she could
| not endure to hear what other children
| said about her father. In him, however,
| she found an able teacher, and made great
| progress in her studies which We're de-
| signed to fit her to enter the medical pro-
| fesson but she often complained OF the
| loneliness of her life
She had been prepared for confirmation
| One eyening-it was the fourth anniversary
| of her mothers flight from the house-she
/
| had prepared for confirmation would go to
heaven If she should die before she was
| confirmed. That night she took cyanide o.
potassium and died. Then 1t was the vicar
recognized the significance OF the question
/ All Stoke Lyme Hooked to the inquest,
where the tragic story was told.
| 1. u
But next Sunday none of the inhabitants
of Stoke Lyme went to the church. The
| x1-a,t The vicar tOIlad the
| bell himself and alone entered the building,
where the dust of many months lay unds-
| turbed on window Lodges and pews-aii
save one the little pew up at the top of
! the church where poor Emily was wont to
| cit. The hassock still shows the impression
made by her knees as Sunday after Sun
| day she knelt there alone to receive on be-
/ half of Stoke Lyme her father benediction.
| Impelled by memorable law, the vicar
went through the service to empty benches.
| No anthem cheered him and no friendly
! face was there to chase away the uncom-
planning resignation in his tear dimmed
eyes He even preached sermon to the
! unresponslve walls. AS he began it a
! stranger entered the vestibule, and, screen
! ed by the half-open door, was an unseen
| observer Of the scene that followed.
IF in this line alone we have hope in
| Christ, we are of all men the most miser-
| able was the text chosen by the afflicted
man, and on it he founded little hom1y
| which sounded strangely like an expression
| of his own blind trust in the Almighty.
! Suddenly he paused and looked at the
| empty benches. One by one he scanned
! them till he looked at the place where the
| child of his heart used to sit and listen to
! his teaching. Checking by effort the
sob that rose in his throat, he resumed his
! discourse. 1T viii not be expected" he
said. that / should say much this morn
| ing concerning her who is in all our
| thoughts. Only l may remind you that she
! was to us an disqualification of the truth
| of our text. 1t is true that she had hopes
| in this world She had hopes and plans
! and prospects, for her great ambition was
! to serve God and to do good to her fellow
men. But then she also looked beyond this
! world"
Human nature could stand no more. The
| poor mans stubborn fortitude gave way
| and he burst into tears, but only for a
moment. Clutehing the ledge Of the pulpit
with both hands. he pulled himself together
and left his child I'm peace with God
where the wicked cease from troubling and
| the weary are at rest
| The last prayer read. he stood ON the
| altar steps, and raising his hands to
| heaven, uttered the beautiful words of the
benediction, and moment later was kneel-
/ ing alone in his church. bowed beneath the
weight of unutterable woe. His duty done,
| I,a locked ha dnOrs For rnomapt hp