CONVOCATION—1701, ETC.
On three several occasions, Samuel Wesley was elected proctor or
convocation man for the diocese of Lincoln. The first of these elections
took place in 1701; a second in 1711; the date of the third is doubtful.
These three attendances at convocation brought upon him an expenditure
of £150, which he could ill afford to bear.
Convocation is an assembly of the clergy of the Church of England by
their representatives. It is always held during the session of
parliament, and consists of an upper and of a lower house. In the upper
house sit the bishops; in the lower the inferior clergy, represented by
their proctors and others. The lower house, of which Mr Wesley was a
member, consists of twenty-two deans, fifty-three archdeacons,
twenty-four prebendaries, and forty-four proctors, (being two proctors
for the clergy of each diocese;) altogether one hundred and forty-three
persons. The prolocutor or speaker of the lower house is always chosen
by itself. His duty is to take care that the members of the house attend
its sittings, to collect their debates and votes, and to convey to the
upper house the resolutions which they pass. Convocation is always
called together by the royal writ, directed to the archbishop of each
province, requiring him to summon all bishops, deans, archdeacons, and
others qualified or entitled to sit therein. Up to the year 1605, it was
the privilege of convocation to fix the taxes which should be paid by
the clergy; but, at that time, this privilege was surrendered to the
House of Commons, on the condition that henceforth, and in lieu of it,
the clergy should be allowed to vote at elections of members of
parliament, a right of which heretofore they had been deprived. The
power of convocation is limited. Its members are not to make any canons
or ecclesiastical laws without the royal licence; nor, even when the
royal licence is granted, can any newly-made laws or canons be put in
force except under certain restrictions. They have the power to examine
and to censure all heretical and schismatical books; but the authors of
such books have an appeal to the king in chancery or to his delegates.
It ought also to be added, that members of convocation have the same
privileges allowed as belong to members of parliament.
Such, then, was the ecclesiastical parliament of which Samuel Wesley was
elected a member, by his brother clergymen, in the diocese of Lincoln,
in 1701. The honour was distinguished, though, to a poor man like
himself, seriously expensive. Some writers have not been sparing in the
censures they have thought proper to pronounce on Wesley for spending so
much money on convocation attendance, which, as is alleged, might have
been much better spent in the payment of his debts, or in providing for
the wants of his wife and children. Such censures are soon uttered, but
are scarcely merited. The convocation, which was called together in
1701, was one of unusual importance, and it behoved the clergy of the
diocese of Lincoln to send as their proctor the most fitting man that
the diocese contained; and that man, being elected, was bound by every
principle of duty and of honour to take upon himself the onerous
responsibility of representing the gentlemen who had thus distinguished
him. The expenses of the office might be inconvenient, yet to be
selected as a fitting representative to the most august and important
ecclesiastical assembly in the land, was an honour not to be despised.
Many a minister struggling with poverty would have readily made as great
a sacrifice to have attained as high a dignity, especially if its
attainment was likely to be the stepping-stone to yet higher
ecclesiastical power and benefit. Samuel Wesley’s talents, learning,
piety, and literary works were sufficient to justify him in aspiring
after the higher, if not highest offices that the Church has to give;
and it is not improbable that had it not been for his pecuniary
embarrassments, and his cruel imprisonment in Lincoln gaol, he would
have died, not the rector of an almost unknown country parish, but in
one of the most distinguished positions to which a clergyman of the
Church of England can be exalted. Apart from a sense of the honour which
his brethren had bestowed upon him, and apart from his readiness to
undertake difficult and expensive duties, it is no disparagement of
Samuel Wesley’s unblemished character to say, that perhaps he had some
hope of such promotion when he consented, at such an inconvenient
sacrifice, to go as proctor to the house of convocation. Considering his
talents, attainments, and labours, such ambition was neither mercenary
nor inordinate. The clergy of the diocese of Lincoln conferred an honour
upon the Epworth rector in thus electing him; but the honour was
merited, and it would have been not only an act of kindness, but an act
of justice, if those who gave the honour had also given the money which
it cost to wear it.
A remarkable anecdote is related in connexion with Mr Wesley’s first
attendance at convocation. Dr A. Clarke, who gives it, says he had it
from the lips of Mr Wesley’s son John. The statement is as follows:—
“Were I,” said John Wesley, “to write my own life, I should begin it
before I was born, merely for the purpose of mentioning a disagreement
between my father and mother. ‘Sukey,’ said my father to my mother one
day after family prayer, ‘why did you not say _amen_ this morning to the
prayer for the king?’ ‘Because,’ said she, ‘I do not believe the Prince
of Orange to be king.’ ‘If that be the case,’ said he, ‘you and I must
part; for if we have two kings, we must have two beds.’ My mother was
inflexible. My father went immediately to his study; and, after spending
some time with himself, set out for London, where, being _convocation
man_ for the diocese of Lincoln, he remained without visiting his own
house for the remainder of the year. On March 8th, in the following
year, 1702, King William died; and as both my father and mother were
agreed as to the legitimacy of Queen Anne’s title, the cause of their
misunderstanding ceased. My father returned to Epworth, and conjugal
harmony was restored.”[151]
-----
Footnote 151:
Clarke’s _Wesley Family_.
-----
Mr Wesley’s own written account of this affair is the following:—“The
year before King William died, my father observed my mother did not say
amen to the prayer for the king. She said she could not, for she did not
believe the Prince of Orange was king. He vowed he would never cohabit
with her till she did. He then took his horse and rode away; nor did she
hear anything of him for a twelvemonth. He then came back and lived with
her as before. But I fear his vow was not forgotten before God.”[152]
-----
Footnote 152:
_Methodist Mag._, 1784, p. 606.
-----
There may be the merest modicum of truth in this strange story; but the
greater part of it is unfounded.
We grant that Mrs Wesley held the doctrine of the “divine right of
kings;” and holding that, of course, she regarded the Revolution of 1688
as a royal wrong, and considered William of Orange a usurper. Of this
there can be no doubt. Writing in the year 1709, she says:—“Whether they
did well, in driving a prince from his hereditary throne, I leave to
their own consciences to determine; though I cannot tell how to think
that a king of England can ever be accountable to his subjects for any
maladministrations or abuse of power; but as he derives his power from
God, so to Him only he must answer for his using it. But still I make a
great difference between those who entered into the confederacy against
their prince, and those who, knowing nothing of the contrivance, and so
consequently not consenting to it, only submitted to the present
government. But whether the praying for a usurper, and vindicating his
usurpations after he has the throne, be not participating in his sins,
is easily determined.”[153]
-----
Footnote 153:
Kirk’s _Mother of the Wesleys_.
-----
With such language before us, there can be no question that the opinions
of Mrs Wesley concerning King William and his predecessor King James
were widely different from those which her husband held; and it may be
easily imagined that such a difference of opinion might lead to
occasional unpleasantness. No one doubts the truthfulness of the story
up to a certain point; namely, that Mrs Wesley, on a certain morning in
1701, at family prayer, omitted to say _amen_ to the prayer for King
William; that her husband took her to task for this omission; that sharp
words ensued; and that he immediately set out for London. The one
damaging point which we deny is, that Samuel Wesley allowed a miserable
squabble respecting the rights of King William to make him neglect his
wife, and to leave his house, his family, and his flock for the space of
twelve months; a thing which, if true, would have been a scandalous,
cruel, and wicked act, Fortunately there is ample evidence to refute
such a disgraceful fiction.
We maintain, in the first place, that the story is highly improbable.
Samuel and Susannah Wesley became husband and wife about the time of
William and Mary’s accession. Something like a dozen years had elapsed
since then. Every Sunday, and in fact, every day, Samuel Wesley had been
accustomed to pray for King William. His wife knew this, and yet all the
time they had lived in love and harmony. Up to this period, there is not
the slightest evidence that any unpleasantness had sprung out of such a
matter. Susannah Wesley loved her husband, and her husband loved her.
“Reverence and love your mother,” wrote her husband to their son Samuel.
“Though I should be jealous of any other rival in your breast, yet I
will not be of her. The more duty you pay her, and the more frequently
and kindly you write to her, the more you will please your affectionate
father.” With such affection subsisting between them, is it likely that
a man of the high character of Samuel Wesley would permit a paltry
quarrel about King William to lead to such a lengthened connubial
separation, involving not only a cruel neglect of his wife and family,
but a criminal absence from his flock, and a public disgrace cast upon
his hitherto spotless reputation? Those who can and do believe a legend
so unlikely, have more faith than is desirable.
But, in the second place, we further maintain, that the disgraceful part
of this story is not only improbable, but impossible. It is well known
that convocation was summoned twice during the year 1701. In the first
instance, it met on the 10th of February, and was prorogued on the 24th
of June following. It was convened again on the 31st of December; and,
between nine and ten weeks after, at the death of King William on the
8th of March 1702, it was again prorogued. How then stands the matter in
reference to Samuel Wesley’s long-continued and criminal absence from
his home and from his church? If he attended the convocation which
opened on February 10, _it is not true_ that “he remained without
visiting his own house for the _remainder of the year_;” for, on the
14th and 18th of May of that same year, we find him at Epworth,
attending to his wife with affectionate tenderness, when she was
confined of twins; and writing to Archbishop Sharpe the two letters
inserted in our last chapter. If, again, he attended the convocation
which opened on Dec. 31st, all the time that he was absent from his
family and from his parish was not more than about ten weeks; for, at
the expiration of that time, according to the story itself, “King
William died,” and, convocation being in consequence prorogued, “Wesley
returned to Epworth, and conjugal harmony was restored.”
Let the reader choose which convocation in 1701 he likes, or, as we are
inclined to do, let him entertain the opinion that Samuel Wesley
attended both, yet, still the evidence above recited, most triumphantly
refutes all that is disgraceful in this cock-and-bull story; for we have
proof that, in neither case, was the rector of Epworth away from his
family and charge for a longer period than ten or a dozen weeks.
We submit that in such an absence there was nothing to justify such a
story. At least, an entire week would be spent in mere journeying. Then,
there were the sittings of convocation, which we know were unusually
important and exciting. Then there was the fact that Samuel Wesley was a
literary man, and had already, in London, published a large number of
literary works—a fact giving rise to business transactions, which the
rector would doubtless attend to, now that he was personally present.
And then, finally, there was the fact that his brother Matthew was
resident in London, and probably also his mother, besides a large number
of his early and literary friends, with all of whom, it is natural to
suppose, he would wish to spend as much time as his other duties would
permit. Put all these things together, and what is there to be gaped at
in the rector of Epworth, as “_convocation man_,” being absent from his
family and his church, once, or even twice, at the beginning of the
years 1701 and 1702, for about ten or a dozen weeks? It is far from our
intention to accuse either John Wesley or Adam Clarke of wilful
misrepresentation; in this respect they are both far above suspicion,
but the tale, as first told to John Wesley, was doubtless told in an
exaggerated form; and it is no disrespect to the wonderful memory of
Adam Clarke to say, that during the thirty or more years which elapsed
between the time when John Wesley told the story and the time when Adam
Clarke published it, the remembrance of the latter was not so vivid as
to be infallible.
We begrudge the space which has been filled with this unfortunate
anecdote; but Samuel Wesley is too great and good a man to permit his
character to be injured undeservedly. Let the full truthfulness of the
legend be admitted, and Wesley’s fair fame is branded. Viewed in such a
light, the thing is serious, and deserves some research and trouble in
refuting it. This is the only matter, in the whole of Mr Wesley’s
history, that in the least affects his morality and honour; and, in our
conscience, we believe that everything in the story, which is deserving
of being censured, is unfounded fiction, and utterly unworthy of the
public credence.
Samuel Wesley attended convocation thrice. It is certain that one of
these occasions was in 1701, and it is probable that a second was in the
same year; and hence we give a brief account of the proceedings of both
these ecclesiastical gatherings.
With the exception of the abortive attempt in 1689, convocation, though
regularly assembling with every parliament, had literally done nothing
for the last nine and thirty years. Now, in 1701, it met to transact
business. First of all, on February 10th, those ecclesiastical
legislators assembled in St Paul’s Cathedral, where a sermon was
preached by Dr Haley, Dean of Chichester. The members of the Lower House
then proceeded to the Chapter House, and elected Dr Hooper, Dean of
Canterbury, their prolocutor. “A man of learning,” says Burnet, “of good
conduct, but reserved, crafty, and ambitious.” They then adopted certain
resolutions as a preparation for the battle which they knew was coming.
1. That they had a right to sit whenever parliament sat, and that they
could not be legally prorogued but when parliament was prorogued. 2.
That they had no need of licence to enter upon debates, and to prepare
matters. 3. That as parliament could pass no act without the royal
assent, so convocation could neither enact nor publish a canon without
the royal licence.
This soon brought them into conflict with their brethren of the Upper
House. On February 25th, an order was brought to them, signed by the
archbishop, proroguing both houses in the usual form. At the time, the
Lower House was holding its session in the chapel of Henry VIII., and
the session was continued in defiance of the archbishop’s mandate,
until, after a short debate, they adjourned themselves. Then followed a
private squabble between the archbishop and the prolocutor, respecting
the prerogatives of the two houses. This lasted until the 6th of March,
when the two houses met, and agreed upon the form of an address to the
king, thanking him for his pious regard for the reformed churches in
general, and expressing their determination to maintain the royal
supremacy, and the articles and canons of the Church.
Their next session was a fortnight later, on March 20th, when the
prolocutor of the Lower House brought up a representation of the
“pernicious, dangerous, and scandalous” doctrines contained in Toland’s
“Christianity not Mysterious,” and requested the bishops to agree to
their resolutions, and to censure the book. This was another cause of
jangling. Burnet says:—“This struck directly at Episcopal authority. It
seemed strange to see men who had so long asserted the divine right of
Episcopacy, and that presbyters were only their assistants and council,
now assume to themselves the most important act of church government,
the judging in points of doctrine.”
On March 22d, another book was discussed in the Upper House, entitled,
“Essays on the Balance of Power,” in which it was asserted that persons
had been promoted in the Church who were remarkable for nothing but
enmity to the divinity of Christ.[154] The bishops, therefore, agreed
that a paper should be affixed to the doors of Westminster Abbey,
calling upon the author to make good his assertion, in order that the
parties might be proceeded against, otherwise the passage in question
would be voted a public scandal.
-----
Footnote 154:
Three years previous to this, Thomas Firmin, a famous citizen of
London, had died; a man held in high esteem for his charities of all
sorts, private and public. Firmin, in early life, sat under the
ministry of John Goodwin, but was afterwards converted to Socinianism
by John Biddle, already mentioned in this history. Firmin was a man of
great wealth, and promoted the printing of books against the Trinity,
and distributed them freely over the nation, to all who would accept
of them. The result was, the greatest mysteries in religion became the
common topic of discourse, and were treated as the contrivances of
priests to bring the world into blind submission to their authority.
This raised a great outcry against Socinianism; and, as Tillotson and
some of the bishops had lived in great friendship with Mr Firmin,
(because of his charitable temper, which they thought it became them
to encourage,) books like “Essays on the Balance of Power,” began to
be put in circulation—(See Burnet’s _History of His Own Time_. 1st
Edit., vol. ii. p. 212.)
-----
The next fortnight was spent in a quarrel between the two houses
respecting the right of the Lower House to prorogue itself, and they
then adjourned from the 8th of April to the 8th of May.
On the latter day the houses again assembled. The archbishop warmly
rebuked the Lower House for their unwarrantable assumption in daring to
prorogue themselves, and for claiming a distinct recess; and declared
that such behaviour had “given the greatest blow to the Church that it
received since the Presbyterian assembly that sat at Westminster in the
late times of confusion.” This rebuke made bad things worse, and the
Lower House became more rebellious than ever. The bishops appointed a
committee of five to meet a similar number of the Lower House, for the
purpose of examining the acts of the present synod, and to report upon
them. To this proposal, the Lower House replied that they should not
nominate any committee; but some of its members sent an address to the
archbishop stating their disapproval of its proceedings. Burnet
says:—“Many of the most eminent and learned of its members protested
against its proceedings;” but the actual protest shows that the
opposition, in point of numbers, was a very insignificant minority,
consisting, at the most, of only fifteen persons.
To evince their opposition still more, the Lower House proceeded to
attack the work of Burnet on the Thirty-nine Articles. This work had
been undertaken at the request of Queen Mary, and was published in 1699,
after being revised, corrected, and approved by three archbishops,
Tillotson, Tennison, and Sharpe, and five bishops, Stillingfleet,
Patrick, Lloyd, Williams, and More. The complaints of the Lower House
were three. 1. That Burnet’s book tends to introduce such a latitude and
diversity of opinions, as the articles were framed to avoid. 2. That
there are many passages in the book which are contrary to the true
meaning of the articles, and to other received doctrines of the Church.
And, 3. That there are some things in the book which are of dangerous
consequence to the Church of England, and which derogate from the honour
of its reformation. For a time, the Upper House stoutly refused to
receive these complaints, because of other irregularities of which the
Lower House had been guilty; but, at length, at Burnet’s request, they
were entertained. A committee was appointed, and came to the following
resolutions:—1.That the Lower House “had no manner of power judicially
to censure any book.” 2. That it “ought not to have entered on the
examination of a book of any bishop without first acquainting the
president and bishops with it.” 3. That the censure of Burnet’s book “is
defamatory and scandalous.” 4. That Burnet, by his writings, “had done
great service to the Church of England, and deserves the thanks of
convocation.” 5. That the prolocutor and some other members of the Lower
House had been guilty of contempt and disobedience.
These were hard words; but the unseemly squabble was soon over; for a
few days afterwards, on June 24th, the royal writ prorogued parliament,
and, of course, prorogued convocation with it.
The new convocation was opened on the 31st of December following. The
Latin service was read by the Bishop of Oxford, and the sermon preached
by the Dean of St Paul’s. Dr Woodward was elected prolocutor, and two
months were occupied in the same angry discussions, respecting the
prerogatives of the two houses, which had disgraced the convocation
previous. The simple point contended for was this: the Lower House
claimed to be on the same footing as to the Upper House that the Commons
in Parliament are in regard to the House of Lords; that is, to adjourn
by their own authority, apart from the Upper House, where, and to such
time, as they should think proper. This the Upper House resisted,
maintaining that the ancient usage was for the archbishop to adjourn
both houses together, and to the same time. This was the only matter
discussed by the convocation which met on December 31, 1701; and this
was not settled, for, in the midst of the discussion, King William died
on the 8th of March 1702, and thus those ecclesiastical brawlers were
sent home to attend to more sacred work in their respective churches.
These disreputable contentions continued for many years after this. “The
governing men in the Lower House,” says Burnet, “were headstrong and
factious, and designed to force themselves into preferment by the noise
they made, and by the ill-humour which they endeavoured to spread among
the clergy, who were generally soured by their proceedings.”
It is impossible to say what part Samuel Wesley took in these
convocation debates; and, in the absence of information, the reader is
left to guess.
We conclude the present chapter with a brief review of the state of
things during the reign of King William’s successor, Queen Anne. This
will clear the way for further details respecting Mr Wesley.
Anne was proclaimed Queen of England in March 1702. She was in the
thirty-eighth year of her age, but was as much under the tutelage of
Lord and Lady Marlborough as if she had been a girl of fifteen, or of
still tenderer years. Three days after her accession, Marlborough was
decorated with the order of the garter, and very soon obtained the
entire command of the English army. His countess was made groom of the
stole and mistress of the robes, and was intrusted with the management
of the privy purse. His two daughters were nominated ladies of the
bedchamber; and the father-in-law of one of these ladies, the Earl of
Sunderland, obtained the renewal of a pension of £2000, which had been
granted him by King William. Marlborough’s influence, in the court of
England was omnipotent.[155]
-----
Footnote 155:
Macaulay writes:—“Queen Anne had no will, no judgment, no conscience,
but those of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough. To them she had
sacrificed affections, prejudices, habits, interests. In obedience to
them, she had joined in the conspiracy against her father. She had
fled from Whitehall in the depth of winter, through ice and mire, to a
hackney coach. She had taken refuge in the rebel camp. She had
consented to yield her place in the order of succession to the Prince
of Orange. While a large party was disposed to make her an idol, the
Duke and Duchess of Marlborough regarded her merely as their puppet,
and no person, who had a natural interest in Anne, could observe,
without uneasiness, the strange infatuation which made her the slave
of an imperious and reckless termagant.”
-----
The Queen, unlike her predecessor King William, was a most bigoted Tory.
From her infancy she had imbibed unconquerable prejudices against the
Whigs; and looked upon them all not only as Republicans, who hated the
very shadow of regal authority, but as implacable enemies to the Church
of England. Hence she lost no opportunity of filling up offices of State
with her own partisans and friends, and, in a short time, the Whigs of
King William were displaced, and the Tories of Queen Anne took their
posts.[156] All this had an influence on the nation in general. The
people began to change their sentiments, and persons of all ranks began
to argue in favour of strict hereditary succession, divine right, and
non-resistance to the regal power.
-----
Footnote 156:
Knight’s _History of England_.
-----
“Nature,” says Macaulay, “had made Queen Anne a bigot. Such was the
constitution of her mind, that, to the religion of her nursery she could
not but adhere, without examination and without doubt, till she was laid
in her coffin. In the court of her father she had been deaf to all that
could be urged in favour of transubstantiation and auricular confession.
In the court of her brother she was equally deaf to all that could be
urged in favour of a general union among Protestants. This slowness and
obstinacy made her important. It was a great thing to be the only member
of the Royal family who regarded Papists and Presbyterians with an
impartial aversion.”
Soon after the Queen’s accession there was a parliamentary election, and
the choice went generally in favour of those who were friends to the
Church and monarchy. The House of Commons was now ready, as well as her
Majesty’s chief ministers, to concur in her designs for the suppression
of Dissenters, and for the aggrandisement of the Established Church. The
House of Lords, however, had been so remodelled, in the reign of King
William, that there was only a minority of its members in favour of the
Queen’s principles and projects, and hence ecclesiastical measures,
which passed the Lower House with acclamations, met in the Upper House
with opposition and defeat.
One of the first measures of the new parliament was the “Occasional
Conformity Bill,” the real object of which was to render null the
Toleration Act, by providing that all who took the sacrament and the
test, as qualifications for office, and afterwards went to the meetings
of Dissenters, should be disabled for holding public offices, and should
be fined £100, and £5 additional for every day that such person or
persons continued in public office after being present at such
Dissenting meetings. The Queen’s Tories in the House of Commons carried
the bill with a triumphant majority; but, in the House of Lords, King
William’s bishops stoutly opposed the measure, and, despite the
influence of Marlborough, succeeded in its rejection. When parliament
broke up, the Queen told its members that she hoped such of her subjects
as had “the _misfortune_ to dissent from the Church of England would
rest secure and satisfied in the Act of Toleration, which she was firmly
resolved to maintain;” and that those who had the “happiness and
advantage to be of _our Church_ might rest assured that she would make
it her particular care to encourage and maintain the Church in all its
just rights and privileges, and so transmit it securely settled to
posterity.”[157]
-----
Footnote 157:
_Life of Queen Anne_, London, 1721.
-----
When parliament re-assembled, in 1703, the rejected “Occasional
Conformity Bill” was again brought into the House of Commons, and passed
without any considerable opposition, but was again rejected in the House
of Lords.
In the same year, the Queen, on her birthday, showed her devoted
attachment to the Church of England by making a grant of her whole
revenue, arising out of the first-fruits and tenths, for augmenting the
livings of the poorer clergy. These first-fruits and tenths amounted to
about £16,000 a year, and, in the time of Charles II. had been
distributed chiefly among his concubines and his illegitimate children.
There were now hundreds of clergymen whose livings were not worth more
than £20 a year, and thousands whose livings did not exceed £50 a year.
Of course, the Queen was well nigh overwhelmed with addresses, thanking
her for her royal bounty, and it was difficult to tell whether she was
prouder of the title “Queen of England,” than she was of “Nursing-mother
to the Church.” This tender care for poor ministers, however, did not
extend to other sects of the Protestant communion; for, just at the same
time, this royal benefactress allowed the Irish Parliament to stop the
paltry grant of £1200 per annum, which had been paid to the poor
Presbyterian ministers in Ulster in the reign of her predecessor, King
William.
In 1704, the “Occasional Conformity Bill” was a third time introduced
into the House of Commons, though there was still not the slightest
chance of its passing in the House of Lords.
In the year following, Lord Halifax moved, in the Upper House, that a
day might be appointed to inquire into the “Dangers of the Church,” it
being alleged that the rejection of the “Occasional Conformity Bill” was
likely to ruin both Church and State, and especially when this was
coupled with the liberty of the press and the licence of the times,
wherein no restraint was laid upon those who vilified the established
religion. Both Houses of Parliament, however, passed a resolution, to
the effect, that the Church of England was in a most safe and
flourishing condition, and the Queen ordered a proclamation to be issued
accordingly.
All this created great excitement, which will have to be more fully
noticed in another chapter. At present, we can only add that, in 1712,
an act was passed by parliament, to the effect, that, if any person
holding public office should attend a conventicle, at which more than
ten persons were assembled, he should be fined £40, and should be
adjudged incapable henceforth to hold such office, or any other office
or employment whatsoever, unless he conformed to the Church of England
for one year without being present at any conventicle, and received,
during that year, the holy sacrament at least three times.
This intolerant Act of Parliament was followed by another of a kindred
kind, in 1714, the year of Queen Anne’s decease—“An Act to prevent the
growth of schism, and for the further security of the Churches of
England and Ireland, as by law established.” By this statute, it was
enacted that, if any person dared to keep any public or private school
without subscribing a declaration to the effect that he would conform to
the Liturgy of the Church of England, and without obtaining a licence
from the ordinary of the place, such person, on conviction, should be
committed to the common gaol for three months. The same penalty was to
be inflicted upon a person who had duly qualified himself for the office
of schoolmaster, and had obtained the necessary licence, if he dared to
be present at any conventicle where prayer was not offered for Queen
Anne.[158]
-----
Footnote 158:
_Life of Queen Anne._
-----
This was a fitting wind up of the reign of an ecclesiastical, though
well-intentioned bigot. Anne was seized with apoplexy on the 28th of
July 1714, and four days afterwards died, without being able either to
receive the sacrament or to sign her will. This princess was remarkable
neither for learning nor capacity, and yet “she was,” says John Wesley,
“a good wife, a tender mother, a warm friend, an indulgent mistress, a
munificent patron, and a merciful monarch; for, during her whole reign,
no subjects’ blood was shed for treason. In a word, if she was not the
greatest she was certainly one of the best and most unblemished
sovereigns that ever sat upon the throne of England; and well deserved
the expressive, though simple, epithet of ‘The good Queen Anne.’”[159]
-----
Footnote 159:
Wesley’s _History of England_.
-----
Great efforts were made, during the reign of Anne, to multiply churches,
but, at the same time, there was an enormous increase of places of
public resort and public discussion. Club-houses, chocolate-houses, and
coffee-houses became so numerous that, besides the large ones, there was
one or more for almost every parish in the capital, in which citizens
regaled themselves to their hearts’ content, and found fault with the
management of public matters. On entering a coffee-house, the visitor
had only to pay a penny at the bar, and for this he was not only served
with a cup of coffee, but accommodated with the newspapers of the day,
and with the newest pamphlets on morals and on politics. Tradesmen
forsook their shops, and merchants their offices, to take care of the
affairs of state, and to harangue upon the misconduct of the ministry,
until, by neglecting their business, those oratorical financiers and
disinterested patriots were, not unfrequently, seized by an ambushment
of bumbailiffs, and, after having defrayed the debts of the nation, were
ignominiously conducted to a sponging-house for not being able to pay
their own.
While the middle and the lower classes were thus discussing politics,
the fashionable orders were devoted to pleasure and to gallantry. From
ten to twelve the beau received his visitors in bed, where he lay in
state, his periwig, superbly powdered, lying beside him on the sheets;
while his toilet-table was sprinkled with amorous poems, a canister of
Spanish snuff, a smelling bottle, and a few fashionable trinkets. At
twelve he rose, and after spending three hours in perfuming his clothes,
in soaking his hands in washes to make them delicate and white, in
tinging his cheeks with carminative to give them a gentle blush, in
dipping his handkerchief in rose water, and in powdering his linen to
banish from it the smell of soap—the self-indulgent exquisite then sat
down to dinner. At four o’clock, he repaired to some place of public
concourse, where he endeavoured to display his gallantry and wit. At
five, he proceeded to the theatre, where, to give himself the air of a
critic, he readjusted his cravat, and sprinkled his face with snuff.
From the theatre he would wander to the park, buzzing and fluttering
from lady to lady, and chattering to each a jargon made up of bad
English, atrocious French, and undistinguishable Latin. And then, his
lounge in the park being ended, he concluded the day by dropping into
some fashionable party, where he chatted his empty nothings, played at
ombre, and lost his money with an air of fashionable indifference.
Besides these fashionable beaus, there were those who, in the language
of the day, were called bully-beaus,—fellows figuring in Ramillies’
perukes, laced hats, black cockades, and scarlet suits; and who
maintained a reputation for courage, by empty swagger and violent
assaults on the peaceable members of society. These gallants, instead of
confining their follies and their fopperies within the compass of the
metropolis, very often made country excursions to bamboozle fox-hunting
squires, and to make love to their unsophisticated daughters. The fair
rustics were dazzled by the surpassing finery of such manners, dress,
and speech; while young clod-poll squires were set agog to emulate the
captivating visitor. In this way many a youth, whose gayest party had
been a country wake, was translated into a London fop. As soon as his
father had broken his neck over a six-barred gate, or fairly drunk
himself into his coffin, the rustic aspirant turned his back on the old
mansion of his progenitors, and hied to London, dressed in his best
leathern breeches tied at the knee with red taffeta, his new blue
jacket, and his fashionable greatcoat, both adorned with buttons of the
orthodox size and shape. Bully-beaus and sharpers took him into
training; tailors, silk-mercers, and cabinetmakers hastened to his
levees; whilst prize-fighters, horse-racers, fiddlers, and
dancing-masters, pimps and parasites, soon transformed a raw country
bumpkin into a finished gentleman of town.
Besides the fashionable and bully-beaus, already mentioned, there were
the Darby-Captains, the Tash-Captains, the Cock-and-bottle Captains, and
the Nickers. But of all the turbulent characters of the period, none
were so distinguished as the Mohocks. These fellows, after drinking to
an outrageous extent to qualify themselves for action, would rush into
the streets with drawn swords, cutting, stabbing, and carbonading all
the unlucky persons that happened to cross their path. Sometimes they
“tipped the lion” on their victim, that is, flattened his nose and
gouged out his eyes; sometimes they were “dancing-masters,” because they
made people cut capers by thrusting swords into their legs; and
sometimes they were “tumblers,” because they would place a woman
topsy-turvy upon her head, or tumble her into an empty barrel, and send
it rolling down Snow Hill. Rightly were they designated “Mohocks,” for
they out-did the atrocities of the tribe of Indian savages whose name
they used.
But leaving the male, look for a moment at the female sex. A fashionable
lady in the days of Queen Anne was thought to be learned enough if she
could barely read and write. If she could finish a letter without
notorious bad spelling, she might pass for a wit. She plunged into all
the amusements of the day with an intensity proportioned to her lack of
moral and intellectual resources. A whirl of daily varieties was
necessary to occupy the emptiness of her mind. She dashed over the town,
upon a round of visiting, in a carriage with four laced and powdered
footmen behind it. When she was obliged to stay at home, she regaled
herself with frequent libations of tea, sometimes qualified with brandy.
When her female friends dropped in, the scandal of the day commenced,
and reputations were torn to tatters. When she held her levees, the
dashing rake and notorious profligate had free access, and the lewd jest
scarcely raised the fan to a single check. It was unfashionable to be
religious; and if a lady of _ton_ went to church, it was to see company
and to deal courtesies from her pew. She patronised French milliners,
French hairdressers, and Italian Opera singers. She loved tall footmen
and turbaned negro footboys. She doated upon monkeys, paroquets, and
lap-dogs; was a perfect critic in old China and Indian trinkets; and
could not exist without a raffle or a sale.
The manners of high life being thus frivolous and depraved, no wonder
that servants were neither wiser nor better than their employers.
Complaints were universal of the arrogance, dishonesty, laziness, and
luxury of valets and footmen; whilst charges against pert, mercenary,
intriguing Abigails were equally loud and numerous. Their cleverness, to
a great extent, consisted in obtaining the largest wages for the
smallest services.
Such a condition of the national character was a fruitful soil for
superstition and credulity. Almost every old mansion was still
ghost-haunted, and almost every parish was tormented by a witch.
Fortune-telling was a common and thriving occupation; and quack-doctors
were, if possible, still more numerous than astrologers.
The country gentlemen cultivated their paternal acres, watched with
almost Druidical reverence the safety of their ancient oaks, and were
members of the worshipful quorum. On Sundays, they repaired to the
village church, through a lane of uncovered and bowing peasantry;
ascended “the squire’s pew,” the chief seat in the synagogue, and
edified their tenantry by the loudness of their responses. At Christmas,
a multitude of fattened hogs were slaughtered and distributed among the
neighbours; while a string of black puddings and a pack of cards were
sent to every poor family in the parish. A large portion of these rustic
squires were fox-hunters, and appear, for the most part, to have been as
unintellectual as the horses they galloped, or the animals they chased;
for their proudest exploit was to clear a six-barred gate, and their
highest ambition to secure a dead fox’s brush for the adornment of their
hunting caps.
Their wives were quiet, domestic drudges, with scarcely enough of
education to keep their book of household expenses, or to spell
correctly the receipt of a new home-made wine, or of an improved
syllabub. No longer thinking it the great business of life to embroider
cushions and coverlets, they commonly settled down into the character of
a Lady Bountiful, and occupied themselves in supplying the poor of their
villages with money, the industrious with work, the idle with counsel,
the vicious with rebuke, and the sick with medicines and with cordials.
In this last department, many of them became so presumptuous that no
ailment was too hard for them, from a toothache to a pestilence, from
the stroke of a cudgel to that of a thunderbolt.
Their sons were taught a little Latin and less Greek, beaten into them,
either at one of the public establishments or by the thwackem of a
domestic schoolroom. When they had been whipped through the parts of
speech, interjections and all, and driven through a few fragmentary
portions of the classics, they were then qualified to shine equally in
the senate or at the masquerade. The grand finish to such an education
was the tour of Europe; and forth went the boy accordingly, in leading
strings, to gaze at streets, mountains, rivers, and trees; and to pick
up, in his rambles, the fashions, frivolities, and vices of the
countries through which he passed.
Their peasantry still presented much the same rude simplicity which had
characterised the poorer classes for the last hundred years. Rural
education had undergone little, if any, improvement; and the monotonous
toils of daily life were enlivened, chiefly, by wakes and fairs,
thronged with puppet-shows, pedlars stalls, raffling-tables, and
drinking-booths.
Such is a bird’s-eye view of the general state of English society at the
commencement of the eighteenth century.[LY]
[The facts in this chapter have been gathered principally from Knight’s
_Pictorial History_, Macaulay’s _History_, Burnet’s _History of His Own
Times_, Lathbury’s _History of Convocation_, the _Tatler_, the
_Spectator_, &c.]