_A SOLEMN FARCE_
Sweet to the antiquarian palate are the fragments of Norman French
which still survive in the formularies of the Constitution. In
Norman French the King acknowledges the inconceivable sums which
from time to time his faithful Commons place at his disposal for
the prosecution of the war. In Norman French the Peers of the Realm
are summoned to their seats in Parliament which they adorn. In Norman
French, the Royal Assent has just been given to a Bill which doubles
the electorate and admits over six million women to the franchise.
All these things are dear to the antiquary, the historian, and
(perhaps we should add) the pedant, as witnessing to the unbroken
continuity of our constitutional forms, though the substance of
our polity has been altered beyond all recognition.
Another instance of Norman French which has lately emerged into
unusual prominence is the "Congé d'élire." We can trace this "Licence
to Elect" from the days of the Great Charter downwards; but it will
suffice for my present purpose to recall the unrepealed legislation
of Henry VIII. "It was then enacted that, at every future avoidance
of a bishopric, the King may send to the Dean and Chapter his usual
licence (called his 'Congé d'Élire') to proceed to election; which
is always, accompanied by a Letter Missive from the King containing
the name of the person whom he would have them elect; and if the Dean
and Chapter delay their election above twelve days the nomination
shall devolve to the King, who may then by Letters Patent appoint
such person as he pleases.... And, if such Dean and Chapter do not
elect in the manner by their Act appointed they shall incur all
the penalties of a præmunire--that is, the loss of all civil rights,
with forfeiture of lands, goods, and chattels, and imprisonment,
during the Royal pleasure."
Such are the singular conditions under which the Church of England
now exercises that right of electing her chief pastors which has
been from the beginning the heritage of Christendom. It would be
difficult to imagine a more dexterous use of chicanery, preserving
the semblance but carefully precluding the reality of a free choice.
We all know something of Deans and Chapters--the well-endowed
inhabitants of cathedral closes--and of those "greater Chapters"
which consist of Honorary Canons, longing for more substantial
preferment. It would indeed require a very bold flight of fancy
to imagine those worthy and comfortable men exposing themselves to
the "loss of civil rights, the forfeiture of goods and chattels,
and imprisonment during the King's pleasure," for a scruple of
conscience about the orthodoxy of a divine recommended by the Crown.
Truly in a capitular election, if anywhere, the better part of
valour is discretion, and the Dean and Chapter of Hereford have
realized this saving truth. But my view is wholly independent of
local or personal issues, and is best expressed by these words of
Arthur Stanton, true Catholic and true Liberal: "I am strongly
in favour of Disestablishment, and always have been. The connexion
between Church and State has done harm to both--more, however,
to the Church. Take our plan of electing Bishops. In the early
centuries they were elected by the people--as they ought to be.
Now they are chosen, sometimes by a Tory, sometimes by a Radical
Government. The Dean and Chapter meet and ask the guidance of the
Holy Ghost to enable them to choose, knowing all the while they have
the 'Letter Missive' in their pockets. To me this comes perilously
near blasphemy."
But let us suppose an extreme case. Let us imagine a Dean and Chapter
so deeply impressed by the unsuitableness of the Crown's nominee
that they refuse to elect him. Here, again, the law dodges us.
Except as a protest their refusal would have not the slightest
effect. The Crown has nothing to do but issue Letters Patent in
favour of its nominee, and he would be as secure of his bishopric as
if the Chapter had chosen him with one consent of heart and voice.
True, he would not yet be a Bishop; for the episcopal character can
only be conferred by consecration, and at this point the Archbishop
becomes responsible. To him the King signifies the fact that Dr.
Proudie has been elected to the See of Barchester, requiring him to
"confirm, invest, and consecrate" that divine. Should the Archbishop
refuse compliance with this command, he exposes himself to exactly
the same penalties as would be inflicted on a recalcitrant Chapter,
only with this aggravation--that he has more to lose. When my good
friend the Bishop of Oxford addressed the Archbishop of Canterbury,
imploring him to withhold consecration from Dr. Henson, he made a
valiant and faithful protest against what he holds to be a flagitious
action on the part of the Crown; but, knowing the respected occupant
of Lambeth as well as he does, I think he must have anticipated
the reply which, as a matter of fact, he received.
Such being the absurdities and unrealities which surround the Congé
d'Élire, one naturally asks, Why not abolish it? This question was
raised in a pointed form by the late Mr. C. J. Monk, for many years
Liberal M.P. for the City of Gloucester, who, in 1880, introduced a
Bill to abolish the Congé and to place the appointment of Bishops
formally, as it is really, in the hands of the Prime Minister. He
urged the painful sense of unreality which clings to the whole
transaction, and the injury to religion which is involved in thus
paltering in a double sense with sacred forms and words. It is
amusing to those who can recall the two men to remember that Mr.
Monk was opposed by Lord Randolph Churchill, who thought he perceived
in the proposal some dark design hostile to the interests of the
Established Church; but the important speech was made by Gladstone.
That great man, always greatest in debate when his case was weakest,
opposed the abolition of the Congé. He deprecated any legislation
which would interfere with one of the most delicate functions of
the Crown, and he insisted that the true path of reform lay, not
in the abolition of the form of election, but in an attempt to
re-invest it with some elements of reality. This was well enough,
and eminently characteristic of his reverence for ancient forms
of constitutional action; but what was more surprising was that,
speaking from long and intimate experience of its practical working
he maintained that the Congé d'Élire, even under the nullifying
conditions now attached to it, was "a moral check upon the prerogatives
of the Crown," which worked well rather than ill. "I am," he said,
"by no means prepared to say that, from partial information or
error, a Minister might not make an appointment to which this moral
obstacle might be set up with very beneficial effect. It would
tend to secure care in the selections, and its importance cannot
be overstated."
I must confess, with the greatest respect for my old leader, that
the "importance" of the Congé d'Élire as a restraint upon the actions
of the Prime Minister can be very easily "overstated." Indeed, the
Congé could only be important if the Capitular Body to which the
"Letter Missive" is addressed have the courage of conscientious
disobedience, and were prepared to face, for the sake of imperilled
truth, the anger of the powers that be and the laughter of the
world. Courage of that type is a plant of slow growth in Established
Churches; and as long as my friends hug the yoke of Establishment,
I cannot sympathize with them when they cry out against its galling
pressure. To complainants of that class the final word was addressed
by Gladstone, nearly seventy years ago: "You have our decision: take
your own; choose between the mess of pottage and the birthright
of the Bride of Christ."