E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Lisa Reigel, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
by
CHARLES J. ABBEY
Rector of Checkendon: Formerly Fellow of University College, Oxford
and
JOHN H. OVERTON
Canon of Lincoln and Rector of Epworth
Revised and Abridged
New Edition
Longmans, Green, and Co.
London, New York, and Bombay
1896
PREFACE
TO
THE SECOND EDITION
Although this edition has been shortened to about half the length of the
original one, it is essentially the same work. The reduction has been
effected, partly by the omission of some whole chapters, partly by
excisions. The chapters omitted are those upon the Jacobites, the
Essayists, Church Cries, and Sacred Poetry--subjects which have only a
more or less incidental bearing on the Church history of the period. The
passages excised are, for the most part, quotations, discursive
reflections, explanatory notes, occasional repetitions, and, speaking
generally, whatever could be removed without injury to the general
purpose of the narrative. There has been no attempt at abridgment in any
other form.
The authors are indebted to their reviewers for many kind remarks and
much careful criticism. They have endeavoured to correct all errors
which have been thus pointed out to them.
As the nature of this work has sometimes been a little misapprehended,
it should be added that its authors at no time intended it to be a
regular history. When they first mapped out their respective shares in
the joint undertaking, their design had been to write a number of short
essays relating to many different features in the religion and Church
history of England in the Eighteenth Century. This general purpose was
adhered to; and it was only after much deliberation that the word
'Chapters' was substituted for 'Essays.' There was, however, one
important modification. Fewer subjects were, in the issue, specifically
discussed, but these more in detail; while some questions--such, for
instance, as that of the Church in the Colonies--were scarcely touched
upon. Hence a certain disproportion of treatment, which a general
introductory chapter could but partially remedy.
PREFACE
TO
THE FIRST EDITION
Some years have elapsed since the authors of this work first entertained
the idea of writing upon certain aspects of religious life and thought
in the Eighteenth Century. If the ground is no longer so unoccupied as
it was then, it appears to them that there is still abundant room for
the book which they now lay before the public. Their main subject is
expressly the English Church, and they write as English Churchmen,
taking, however, no narrower basis than that of the National Church
itself.
They desire to be responsible each for his own opinions only, and
therefore the initials of the writer are attached to each chapter he has
written.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
(_C.J. Abbey._)
Revived interest in the religious life of the eighteenth century, 1
Lowered tone prevalent during a great part of the period, 2
Loss of strength in the Puritan and Nonjuring ejections, 3
Absorbing speculations connected with the Deistical controversy, 4
Development of the ground principles of the Reformation, 5
Fruits of the Deistical controversy, 6
Its relation to the Methodist and Evangelical revivals, 7
Impetus to Protestant feeling in the Revolution of 1689, 8
Projects of Church comprehension, 8
Methodism and the Church, 9
The French Revolution, 10
Passive Obedience and Divine Right, 10
Jacobitism, 11
Loss of the Nonjuring type of High Churchmen, 12
Toleration, 13
Church and State, 15
Respect for the Church, 16
Early part of the century richest in incident, 17
Religious societies, 17
The Sacheverell trial, 18
Convocation, 19
The later Nonjurors, 19
The Essayists, 20
Hoadly and the Bangorian controversy, 21
The Methodist and Evangelical movements, 21
Evidence writers, 22
Results of the Evidential theology, 23
Revival of practical activity at the end of the century, 24
The Episcopate, 24
General condition of religion and morality, 25
Clergy and people, 25
CHAPTER II.
ROBERT NELSON: HIS FRIENDS AND CHURCH PRINCIPLES.
(_C.J. Abbey._)
Contrast with the coarser forms of High Churchmanship in that
age, 26
Robert Nelson: general sketch of his life and doings, 27
His Nonjuring friends, 31
Ken, 31
Bancroft and Frampton, 32
Kettlewell, 33
Dodwell, 34
Hickes, 36
Lee, 38
Brokesby, Jeremy Collier, &c., 39
Exclusiveness among many Nonjurors, 39
His friends in the National Church, 40
Bull, 40
Beveridge, 42
Sharp, 44
Smalridge, 46
Grabe, 47
Bray, 48
Oglethorpe, Mapletoft, &c., 49
R. Nelson a High Churchman of wide sympathies, 50
Deterioration of the later type of eighteenth century
Anglicanism, 51
Harm done to the English Church from the Nonjuring secession, 51
Coincidence at that time of political and theological parties, 52
Passive obedience as 'a doctrine of the Cross', 53
Decline of the doctrine, 55
Loyalty, 56
The State prayers, 57
Temporary difficulties and permanent principles, 58
Nonjuring Church principles scarcely separable from those of most High
Churchmen of that age in the National Church, 60
Nonjuror usages, 61
Nonjuror Protestantism, 63
Isolated position of the Nonjurors, 64
Communications with the Eastern Church, 65
General type of the Nonjuring theology and type of piety, 68
Important function of this party in a Church, 73
Religious promise of the early years of the century, 74
Disappointment in the main of these hopes, 75
CHAPTER III.
THE DEISTS.
(_J.H. Overton._)
Points at issue in the Deistical controversy, 75-6
Deists not properly a sect, 76
Some negative tenets of the Deists, 77
Excitement caused by the subject of Deism, 78
Toland's 'Christianity not mysterious', 79
Shaftesbury's 'Characteristics', 80-2
His protest against the Utilitarian view of Christianity, 81
Collins's 'Discourse of Freethinking', 82-3
Bentley's 'Remarks' on Collins', 83-4
Collins's 'Discourse on the Grounds and Reasons of the Christian
Religion', 84-5
Woolston's 'Six Discourses on the Miracles', 85
Sherlock's 'Tryal of the Witnesses', 86
Annet's 'Resurrection of Jesus Considered', 86
Tindal's 'Christianity as old as the Creation', 86-7
Conybeare's 'Defence of Revealed Religion', 87
Tindal the chief exponent of Deism, 88
Morgan's 'Moral Philosopher', 89
Chubbs's works, 90-1
'Christianity not founded on argument', 92-3
Bolingbroke's 'Philosophical Works', 93-6
Butler's 'Analogy', 96-7
Warburton's 'Divine Legation of Moses', 97-8
Berkeley's 'Alciphron, or the Minute Philosopher', 98-9
Leland's 'View of the Deistical Writers', 100-1
Pope's 'Essay on Man', 101-2
John Locke's relation to Deism, 102-5
Effects of the Deistical controversy, 106-8
Collapse of Deism, 108
Want of sympathy with the Deists, 110
Their unpopularity, 111
CHAPTER IV.
LATITUDINARIAN CHURCHMANSHIP.
(1.) CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE OF ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON'S THEOLOGY.
(_C.J. Abbey._)
Use of the term 'Latitudinarian', 112
In the eighteenth century, 113
Archbishop Tillotson:--
His close relationship with the eighteenth century, 115
His immense repute as a writer and divine, 115
Vehemence of the attack upon his opinions, 117
His representative character, 118
His appeal to reason in all religious questions, 119
On spiritual influence, 119
On Christian evidences, 119
On involuntary error, 120
On private judgment, its rights and limitations, 121
Liberty of thought and 'Freethinking' in Tillotson's and the
succeeding age, 125
Tillotson on 'mysteries', 127
On the doctrine of the Trinity, 129
On Christ's redemption, 130
Theory of accommodation, 131
The future state, 133
Inadequate insistance on distinctive Christian doctrine, 140
Religion and ethics, 141
Goodness and happiness, 142
Prudential religion, 143
General type of Tillotson's latitudinarianism, 145
CHAPTER V.
LATITUDINARIAN CHURCHMANSHIP.
(2.) CHURCH COMPREHENSION AND CHURCH REFORMERS.
(_C.J. Abbey._)
Comprehension in the English Church, 147
Attitude towards Rome in eighteenth century, 148
Strength of Protestant feeling, 148
Exceptional interest in the Gallican Church, 149
Archbishop Wake and the Sorbonne divines, 149
Alienation unmixed with interest in the middle of the eighteenth
century, 152
The exiled French clergy, 154
The reformed churches abroad:--
Relationship with them a practical question of great interest since
James II.'s time, 155
Alternation of feeling on the subject since the Reformation, 156
The Protestant cause at the opening of the eighteenth century, 158
The English Liturgy and Prussian Lutherans, 160
Subsidence of interest in foreign Protestantism, 163
Nonconformists at home:--
Strong feeling in favour of a national unity in Church
matters, 164
Feeling at one time in favour of comprehension, both among Churchmen
and Nonconformists, 166
General view of the Comprehension Bills, 169
The opportunity transitory, 174
Church comprehension in the early part of the eighteenth century
confessedly hopeless, 175
Partial revival of the idea in the middle of the century, 177
Comprehension of Methodists, 180
Occasional conformity:--
A simple question complicated by the Test Act, 183
The Occasional Conformity Bill, 184
Occasional conformity, apart from the test, a 'healing
custom', 185
But by some strongly condemned, 186
Important position it might have held in the system of the National
Church, 187
Revision of Church formularies; subscription:--
Distaste for any ecclesiastical changes, 188
The 'Free and Candid Disquisitions', 189
Subscription to the Articles, 190
Arian subscription, 193
Proposed revision of Church formularies, 195
Isolation of the English Church at the end of the last century, 195
The period unfitted to entertain and carry out ideas of Church
development, 196
CHAPTER VI.
THE TRINITARIAN CONTROVERSY.
(_J.H. Overton._)
Importance of the question at issue, 197
Four different views on the subject, 198
Bull's 'Defensio Fidei Nicænæ', 199
Sherlock, Wallis, and South on the Trinity, 200
Charles Leslie on Socinianism, 201-2
William Whiston on the Trinity, 202-4
Samuel Clarke the reviver of modern Arianism, 204
Opponents of Clarke, 205
Waterland on the Trinity, 205-13
Excellences of Waterland's writings, 213
Convocation and Dr. Clarke, 214
Arianism among Dissenters, 215
Arianism lapses into Socinianism.--Faustus Socinus, 215
Modern Socinianism, 216
Isaac Watts on the Trinity, 217-9
Blackburne's 'Confessional', 219
Jones of Nayland on the Trinity, 219-20
Priestley on the Trinity, 220
Horsley's replies to Priestley, 220-4
Unitarians and Trinitarians (nomenclature), 225
Deism and Unitarianism, 226
CHAPTER VII.
'ENTHUSIASM.'
(_C.J. Abbey._)
Meaning of 'Enthusiasm' as generally dreaded in the eighteenth
century, 226
A vague term, but important in the history of the period, 227
As entering into most theological questions then under
discussion, 229
Cambridge Platonists: Cudworth, Henry More, 230
Influence of Locke's philosophy, 234
Warburton's 'Doctrine of Grace', 237
Sympathy with the reasonable rather than the spiritual side of
religion, 237
Absence of Mysticism in the last century, on any conspicuous
scale, 238
Mysticism found its chief vent in Quakerism 240
Quakerism in eighteenth century 241
Its strength, its decline, its claim to attention, 244
French Mysticism in England. The 'French Prophets', 246
Fénelon, Bourignon, and Guyon, 249
German Mysticism in England. Behmen, 251
William Law, 253
His active part in theological controversy, 254
Effects of Mysticism on his theology, 255
His breadth of sympathy and appreciation of all spiritual
excellence, 257
Position of, in the Deist controversy, 259
Views on the Atonement, 259
On the Christian evidences, 260
Controversy with Mandeville on the foundations of moral
virtue, 261
His speculation on the future state, 261
On Enthusiasm, 263
His imitator in verse, John Byrom, 264
The Moravians, 265
Wesley's early intimacy with W. Law and with the Moravians, 266
Lavington and others on the enthusiasm of Methodists, 269
Points of resemblance and difference between Methodism and the Mystic
revivals, 271
Bearing of Berkeley's philosophy on the Mystic theology, 274
William Blake, 275
Dean Graves on enthusiasm, 276
Samuel Coleridge, 277
CHAPTER VIII.
CHURCH ABUSES.
(_J.H. Overton._)
Fair prospect at the beginning of the eighteenth century, 279
Contrast between promise and performance, 279
Shortcomings of the Church exaggerated on many sides, 280
_General causes of the low tone of the Church:_--
(1) Her outward prosperity, 280
(2) Influence and policy of Sir R. Walpole, 281
(3) The controversies of her own and previous generations, 282
(4) Political complications, 282
(5) Want of synodal action, 282-4
Pluralities and non-residence, 284-6
Neglect of parochial duties, 286-7
Clerical poverty, 287-9
Clerical dependents, 289
Abuse of Church patronage, 290-2
Evidence in the autobiography of Bishop T. Newton, 292-3
" " " Bishop Watson, 293-6
" " " Bishop Hurd, 296-7
Clergy too much mixed up with politics, 297-8
Want of parochial machinery, 298-300
Sermons of period too sweepingly censured, 300
But marked by a morbid dread of extremes, 301
Political sermons, 302
Low state of morals, 303
Clergy superior to their contemporaries, 301
The nation passed through a crisis in the eighteenth century, 306
A period of transition in the Church, 307
Torpor extended to all forms of Christianity, 308
Decay of Church discipline, 309-310
England better than her neighbours, 311
Good influences in the later part of the century, 311-2
CHAPTER IX.
THE EVANGELICAL REVIVAL.
(_J.H. Overton._)
(1.) THE METHODIST MOVEMENT.
Strength and weakness of the Church in the middle of the eighteenth
century, 313
Propriety of the term 'Evangelical Revival', 314
Contrast between Puritans and Evangelicals, 315
William Law, 316
John Wesley, 316-336
George Whitefield, 337-340
Charles Wesley, 340-3
Fletcher of Madeley, 343-6
Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, 347-354
Other Methodist worthies, 355
(2.) THE CALVINISTIC CONTROVERSY.
Feebleness and unprofitableness of the controversy, 356
The disputes between Wesley and Whitefield, 357-8
Minutes of the Conference of 1770, 358-360
The 'Circular printed Letter', 360
Conference of 1771, 361
Controversy breaks out afresh in 1772, 362
Fletcher's checks to Antinomianism, 363-5
Toplady's writings, 365
(3.) THE EVANGELISTS.
James Hervey, 366-370
Grimshaw of Haworth, 370-1
Berridge of Everton, 371-2
William Romaine, 372-4
Henry Venn, 374-7
Evangelicalism and Methodism contemporaneous, 377-8
John Newton, 378-381
William Cowper, 381-3
Thomas Scott, 384-8
Richard Cecil, 388
Joseph Milner, 388-392
Isaac Milner, 392-3
Robinson of Leicester, 393-4
Bishop Porteus, 394
'The Clapham Sect', 394
John and Henry Thornton, 395
William Wilberforce, 395-8
Lords Dartmouth and Teignmouth, 398
Dr. Johnson, 398-9
Hannah More, 399-402
Strength and weakness of the Evangelical leaders, 402-3
CHAPTER X.
CHURCH FABRICS AND SERVICES.
(_C.J. Abbey._)
The 'Georgian Age', 403
General sameness in the externals of worship, 404
Church architecture, 405
Vandalisms, 407
Whitewash, 408
Repairs of churches, 409
Church naves; relics of mediæval usage, 411
Pews and galleries, 411
Other adjuncts of eighteenth century churches, 414
Chancels and their ornaments, 416
Paintings in churches, 419
Stained glass, 423
Church bells, 425
Churchyards, 427
Church building, 428
Daily services, 429
Wednesday and Friday services; Saints' days; Lent; Passion Week;
Christmas Day, &c., 432
Wakes; Perambulations, 436
State services, 437
Church attendance, 439
Irreverence in church, 441
Variety of ceremonial, 444
The vestment rubric; copes, 445
The surplice; hood; scarf, &c., 446
Clerical costume, 447
Postures of worship; Responses, &c., 449
Liturgical uniformity, 451
Division of services, 452
The Eucharist; Sacramental usages, 453
Parish clerks, 456
Organs; church music, 458
Cathedrals, 459
The 'bidding' and the 'pulpit' prayer, 461
Preaching, 463
Lecturers, 466
Funeral sermons, 468
Baptism, 468
Catechising, 469
Confirmation, 470
Marriage, 471
Funerals, 471
Church discipline; excommunication; penance, 472
Sunday observance, 474
Conclusion, 475
APPENDIX: List of Authorities, 477
INDEX, 489
THE ENGLISH CHURCH
IN THE
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
The claim which the intellectual and religious life of England in the
eighteenth century has upon our interest has been much more generally
acknowledged of late years than was the case heretofore. There had been,
for the most part, a disposition to pass it over somewhat slightly, as
though the whole period were a prosaic and uninteresting one. Every
generation is apt to depreciate the age which has so long preceded it as
to have no direct bearing on present modes of life, but is yet not
sufficiently distant as to have emerged into the full dignity of
history. Besides, it cannot be denied that the records of the eighteenth
century are, with two or three striking exceptions, not of a kind to
stir the imagination. It was not a pictorial age; neither was it one of
ardent feeling or energetic movement. Its special merits were not very
obvious, and its prevailing faults had nothing dazzling in them, nothing
that could be in any way called splendid; on the contrary, in its weaker
points there was a distinctly ignoble element. The mainsprings of the
religious, as well as of the political, life of the country were
relaxed. In both one and the other the high feeling of faith was
enervated; and this deficiency was sensibly felt in a lowering of
general tone, both in the domain of intellect and in that of practice.
The spirit of feudalism and of the old chivalry had all but departed,
but had left a vacuum which was not yet supplied. As for loyalty, the
half-hearted feeling of necessity or expedience, which for more than
half the century was the main support of the German dynasty, was
something different not in degree only, but in kind, from that which had
upheld the throne in time past. Jacobitism, on the other hand, was not
strong enough to be more than a faction; and the Republican party, who
had once been equal to the Royalists in fervour of enthusiasm, and
superior to them in intensity of purpose, were now wholly extinct. The
country increased rapidly in strength and in material prosperity; its
growth was uninterrupted; its resources continued to develop; its
political constitution gained in power and consolidation. But there was
a deficiency of disinterested principle. There was an open field for the
operation of such sordid motives and debasing tactics as those which
disgraced Walpole's lengthened administration.
In the following chapters there will be only too frequent occasion to
refer to a somewhat corresponding state of things in the religious life
of the country. For two full centuries the land had laboured under the
throes of the Reformation. Even when William III. died, it could
scarcely be said that England had decisively settled the form which her
National Church should take. The 'Church in danger' cries of Queen
Anne's reign, and the bitter war of pamphlets, were outward indications
that suspense was not yet completely over, and that both friends and
enemies felt they had still occasion to calculate the chances alike of
Presbyterianism and of the Papacy. But when George I. ascended the
throne in peace, it was at last generally realised that the 'Settlement'
of which so much had been spoken was now effectually attained. Church
and State were so far secured from change, that their defenders might
rest from anxiety. It was not a wholesome rest that followed.
Long-standing disputes and the old familiar controversies were almost
lulled to silence, but in their place a sluggish calm rapidly spread
over the Church, not only over the established National Church, but over
it and also over every community of Nonconformists. It is remarkable how
closely the beginning of the season of spiritual lassitude corresponds
with the accession of the first George. The country had never altogether
recovered from the reaction of lax indifference into which it had fallen
after the Restoration. Nevertheless, a good deal had occurred since that
time to keep the minds of Churchmen, as well as of politicians, awake
and active: and a good deal had been done to stem the tide of immorality
which had then broken over the kingdom. The Church of England was
certainly not asleep either in the time of the Seven Bishops, when James
II. was King, or under its Whig rulers at the end of the century. And in
Queen Anne's time, amid all the virulence of hostile Church parties,
there was a healthy stream of life which made itself very visible in the
numerous religious associations which sprang up everywhere in the great
towns. It might seem as if there were a certain heaviness in the English
mind, which requires some outward stimulus to keep alive its zeal. For
so soon as the press of danger ceased, and party strifes abated, with
the accession of the House of Brunswick, Christianity began forthwith to
slumber. The trumpet of Wesley and Whitefield was needed before that
unseemly slumber could again be broken.
It will not, however, be forgotten that twice in successive generations
the Church of England had been deprived, through misfortune or through
folly, of some of her best men. She had suffered on either hand. By the
ejection of 1602, through a too stringent enforcement of the new Act of
Uniformity, she had lost the services of some of the most devoted of her
Puritan sons, men whose views were in many cases no way distinguishable
from those which had been held without rebuke by some of the most
honoured bishops of Elizabeth's time. By the ejection of 1689, through
what was surely a needless strain upon their allegiance, many
high-minded men of a different order of thought were driven, if not from
her communion, at all events from her ministrations. It was a juncture
when the Church could ill afford to be weakened by the defection of some
of the most earnest and disinterested upholders of the Primitive and
Catholic, as contrasted with the more directly Protestant elements of
her Constitution. This twofold drain upon her strength could scarcely
have failed to impair the robust vitality which was soon to be so
greatly needed to combat the early beginnings of the dead resistance of
spiritual lethargy.
But this listlessness in most branches of practical religion must partly
be attributed to a cause which gives the history of religious thought in
the eighteenth century its principal importance. In proportion as the
Church Constitution approached its final settlement, and as the
controversies, which from the beginning of the Reformation had been
unceasingly under dispute, gradually wore themselves out, new questions
came forward, far more profound and fundamental, and far more important
in their speculative and practical bearings, than those which had
attracted so much notice and stirred so much excitement during the two
preceding centuries. The existence of God was scarcely called into
question by the boldest doubters; or such doubts, if they found place at
all, were expressed only under the most covert implications. But, short
of this, all the mysteries of religion were scrutinized; all the deep
and hidden things of faith were brought in question, and submitted to
the test of reason. Is there such a thing as a revelation from God to
men of Himself and of His will? If so, what is its nature, its purposes,
its limits? What are the attributes of God? What is the meaning of life?
What is man's hereafter? Does a divine spirit work in man? and if it
does, what are its operations, and how are they distinguishable? What is
spirit? and what is matter? What does faith rest upon? What is to be
said of inspiration, and authority, and the essential attributes of a
church? These, and other questions of the most essential religious
importance, as the nature and signification of the doctrines of the
Trinity, of the Incarnation of Christ, of Redemption, of Atonement,
discussions as to the relations between faith and morals, and on the
old, inevitable enigmas of necessity and liberty, all more or less
entered into that mixed whirl of earnest inquiry and flippant scepticism
which is summed up under the general name of the Deistic Controversy.
For it is not hard to see how intimately the secondary controversies of
the time were connected with that main and central one, which not only
engrossed so much attention on the part of theologians and students, but
became a subject of too general conversation in every coffee-house and
place of public resort.
In mental, as well as in physical science, it seems to be a law that
force cannot be expended in one direction without some corresponding
relaxation of it in another. And thus the disproportionate energies
which were diverted to the intellectual side of religion were exercised
at some cost to its practical part. Bishops were writing in their
libraries, when otherwise they might have been travelling round their
dioceses. Men were pondering over abstract questions of faith and
morality, who else might have been engaged in planning or carrying out
plans for the more active propagation of the faith, or a more general
improvement in popular morals. The defenders of Christianity were
searching out evidences, and battling with deistical objections, while
they slackened in their fight against the more palpable assaults of the
world and the flesh. Pulpits sounded with theological arguments where
admonitions were urgently needed. Above all, reason was called to decide
upon questions before which man's reason stands impotent; and
imagination and emotion, those great auxiliaries to all deep religious
feeling, were bid to stand rebuked in her presence, as hinderers of the
rational faculty, and upstart pretenders to rights which were not
theirs. 'Enthusiasm' was frowned down, and no small part of the light
and fire of religion fell with it.
Yet an age in which great questions were handled by great men could not
be either an unfruitful or an uninteresting one. It might be unfruitful,
in the sense of reaping no great harvest of results; and it might be
uninteresting, in respect of not having much to show upon the surface,
and exhibiting no great variety of active life. But much good fruit for
the future was being developed and matured; and no one, who cares to see
how the present grows out of the past, will readily allow that the
religious thought and the religious action of the eighteenth century are
deficient in interest to our times. Our debt is greater than many are
inclined to acknowledge. People see clearly that the Church of that age
was, in many respects, in an undoubtedly unsatisfactory condition,
sleepy and full of abuses, and are sometimes apt to think that the
Evangelical revival (the expression being used in its widest sense) was
the one redeeming feature of it. And as in theological and
ecclesiastical thought, in philosophy, in art, in poetry, the general
tendency has been reactionary, the students and writers of the
eighteenth century have in many respects scarcely received their due
share of appreciation. Moreover, negative results make little display.
There is not much to show for the earnest toil that has very likely been
spent in arriving at them; and a great deal of the intellectual labour
of the last century was of this kind. Reason had been more completely
emancipated at the Reformation than it was at first at all aware of. Men
who were engaged in battling against certain definite abuses, and
certain specified errors, scarcely discovered at first, nor indeed for
long afterwards, that they were in reality contending also for
principles which would affect for the future the whole groundwork of
religious conviction. They were not yet in a position to see that
henceforward authority could take only a secondary place, and that they
were installing in its room either reason or a more subtle spiritual
faculty superior even to reason in the perception of spiritual things.
It was not until near the end of the seventeenth century that the mind
began to awaken to a full perception of the freedom it had won--a
freedom far more complete in principle than was as yet allowed in
practice. In the eighteenth century this fundamental postulate of the
Reformation became for the first time a prominent, and, to many minds,
an absorbing subject of inquiry. For the first time it was no longer
disguised from sight by the incidental interest of its side issues. The
assertors of the supremacy of reason were at first arrogantly, or even
insolently, self-confident, as those who were secure of carrying all
before them. Gradually, the wiser of them began to feel that their
ambition must be largely moderated, and that they must be content with
far more negative results than they had at first imagined. The question
came to be, what is reason unable to do? What are its limits? and how is
it to be supplemented? An immensity of learning, and of arguments good
and bad, was lavished on either side in the controversy between the
deists and the orthodox. In the end, it may perhaps be said that two
axioms were established, which may sound in our own day like
commonplaces, but which were certainly very insufficiently realised when
the controversy began. It was seen on the one hand that reason was free,
and that on the other it was encompassed by limitations against which it
strives in vain. The Deists lost the day. Their objections to revelation
fell through; and Christianity rose again, strengthened rather than
weakened by their attack. Yet they had not laboured in vain, if success
may be measured, not by the gaining of an immediate purpose, but by
solid good effected, however contrary in kind to the object proposed. So
far as a man works with a single-hearted desire to win truth, he should
rejoice if his very errors are made, in the hands of an overruling
Providence, instrumental in establishing truth. Christianity in England
had arrived in the eighteenth century at one of those periods of
revision when it has become absolutely necessary to examine the
foundations of its teaching, at any risk of temporary disturbance to the
faith of individuals. The advantage ultimately gained was twofold. It
was not only that the vital doctrines of Christian faith had been
scrutinised both by friends and enemies, and were felt to have stood the
proof. But also defenders of received doctrine learnt, almost
insensibly, very much from its opponents. They became aware--or if not
they, at all events their successors became aware--that orthodoxy must,
in some respects, modify the stringency of its conclusions; that there
was need, in other instances, of disentangling Christian verities from
the scholastic refinements which had gradually grown up around them; and
that there were many questions which might safely be left open to debate
without in any way impairing the real defences of Christianity. A
sixteenth or seventeenth-century theologian regarded most religious
questions from a standing point widely different in general character
from that of his equal in piety and learning in the eighteenth century.
The circumstances and tone of thought which gave rise to the Deistic and
its attendant controversies mark with tolerable definiteness the chief
period of transition.
The Evangelical revival, both that which is chiefly connected with the
name of the Wesleys and of Whitefield, and that which was carried on
more exclusively within the Church of England, closely corresponded in
many of its details to what had often occurred before in the history of
the Christian Church. But it had also a special connection with the
controversies which preceded it. When minds had become tranquillised
through the subsidence of discussions which had threatened to overthrow
their faith, they were the more prepared to listen with attention and
respect to the stirring calls of the Evangelical preacher. The very
sense of weariness, now that long controversy had at last come to its
termination, tended to give a more entirely practical form to the new
religious movement. And although many of its leaders were men who had
not come to their prime till the Deistical controversy was almost over,
and who would probably have viewed the strife, if it had still been
raging, with scarcely any other feeling than one of alarmed concern,
this was at all events not the case with John Wesley. There are
tolerably clear signs that it had materially modified the character of
his opinions. The train of thought which produced the younger Dodwell's
'Christianity not Founded upon Argument'--a book of which people
scarcely knew, when it appeared, whether it was a serious blow to the
Deist cause, or a formidable assistance to it--considerably influenced
Wesley's mind, as it also did that of William Law and his followers. He
entirely repudiated the mysticism which at one time had begun to attract
him; but, like the German pietists, who were in some sense the religious
complement of Rationalism, he never ceased to be comparatively
indifferent to orthodoxy, so long as the man had the witness of the
Spirit proving itself in works of faith. In whatever age of the Church
Wesley had lived, he would have been no doubt an active agent in the
holy work of evangelisation. But opposed as he was to prevailing
influences, he was yet a man of his time. We can hardly fancy the John
Wesley whom we know living in any other century than his own. Spending
the most plastic, perhaps also the most reflective period of his life in
a chief centre of theological activity, he was not unimpressed by the
storm of argument which was at that time going on around him. It was
uncongenial to his temper, but it did not fail to leave upon him its
lasting mark.
The Deistical and other theological controversies of the earlier half of
the century, and the Wesleyan and Evangelical revival in its latter
half, are quite sufficient in themselves to make the Church history of
the period exceedingly important. They are beyond doubt its principal
and leading events. But there was much more besides in the religious
life of the country that is well worthy of note. The Revolution which
had so lately preceded the opening of the century, and the far more
pregnant and eventful Revolution which convulsed Europe at its close,
had both of them many bearings, though of course in very different ways,
upon the development of religious and ecclesiastical thought in this
country. One of the first and principal effects of the change of dynasty
in 1688 had been to give an immense impetus to Protestant feeling. This
was something altogether different in kind from the Puritanism which had
entered so largely into all the earlier history of that century. It was
hardly a theological movement; neither was it one that bore primarily
and directly upon personal religion. It was, so to say, a strategical
movement of self defence. The aggression of James II. upon the
Constitution had not excited half the anger and alarm which had been
caused by his attempts to reintroduce Popery. And now that the exiled
King had found a refuge in the court of the monarch who was not only
regarded as the hereditary enemy of England, but was recognised
throughout Europe as the great champion of the Roman Catholic cause,
religion, pride, interest, and fear combined to make all parties in
England stand by their common Protestantism. Not only was England prime
leader in the struggle against Papal dominion; but Churchmen of all
views, the great bulk of the Nonconformists, and all the reformed
Churches abroad, agreed in thinking of the English Church as the chief
bulwark of the Protestant interest.
Projects of comprehension had ended in failure before the eighteenth
century opened. But they were still fresh in memory, and men who had
taken great interest in them were still living, and holding places of
honour. For years to come there were many who greatly regretted that the
scheme of 1689 had not been carried out, and whose minds constantly
recurred to the possibility of another opportunity coming about in their
time. Such ideas, though they scarcely took any practical form, cannot
be left out of account in the Church history of the period. In the midst
of all that strife of parties which characterised Queen Anne's reign, a
longing desire for Church unity was by no means absent. Only these
aspirations had taken by this time a somewhat altered form. The history
of the English Constitution has ever been marked by alternations, in
which Conservatism and attachment to established authority have
sometimes been altogether predominant, at other times a resolute, even
passionate contention for the security and increase of liberty. In Queen
Anne's reign a reaction of the former kind set in, not indeed by any
means universal, but sufficient to contrast very strongly with the
period which had preceded it. One of the symptoms of it was a very
decided current of popular feeling in favour of the Church. People began
to think it possible, or even probable, that with the existing
generation of Dissenters English Nonconformity would so nearly end, as
to be no longer a power that would have to be taken into any practical
account. Concession, therefore, to the scruples of 'weak brethren'
seemed to be no longer needful; and if alterations were not really
called for, evidently they would be only useless and unsettling. In
this reign, therefore, aspirations after unity chiefly took the form of
friendly overtures between Church dignitaries in England and the
Lutheran and other reformed communities abroad, as also with such
leaders of the Gallican party as were inclined, if possible, to throw
off the Papal supremacy and to effect at the same time certain religious
and ecclesiastical reforms. Throughout the middle of the century there
was not so much any craving for unity as what bore some outward
resemblance to it, an indolent love of mere tranquillity. The
correspondence, however, that passed between Doddridge and some of the
bishops, and the interest excited by the 'Free and Candid
Disquisitions,' showed that ideas of Church comprehension were not yet
forgotten. About this date, another cause, in addition to the _quieta
non movere_ principle, interfered to the hindrance of any such
proposals. Persons who entertained Arian and other heterodox opinions
upon the doctrine of the Trinity were an active and increasing party;
and there was fear lest any attempt to enlarge the borders of the Church
should only, or chiefly, result in their procuring some modifications of
the Liturgy in their favour. Later in the century, the general question
revived in immediate interest under a new form. It was no longer asked,
how shall we win to our national communion those who have hitherto
declined to recognise its authority? The great ecclesiastical question
of the day--if only it could have been taken in hand with sufficient
earnestness--was rather this: how shall we keep among us in true Church
fellowship this great body of religiously minded men and women who, by
the mouth of their principal leader, profess real attachment to the
Church of England, and yet want a liberty and freedom from rule which we
know not how to give? No doubt it was a difficulty--more difficult than
may at first appear--to incorporate the activities of Methodism into the
general system of the National Church. Only it is very certain that
obstacles which might have been overcome were not generally grappled
with in the spirit, or with the seriousness of purpose, which the crisis
deserved. Meanwhile, at the close of the period, when this question had
scarcely been finally decided, the Revolution broke out in France. In
the terror of that convulsion, when Christianity itself was for the
first time deposed in France, and none knew how widely the outbreak
would extend, or what would be the bound of such insurrection against
laws human and divine, the unity of a common Christianity could not fail
to be felt more strongly than any lesser causes of disunion. There was a
kindness and sympathy of feeling manifested towards the banished French
clergy, which was something almost new in the history of Protestantism.
The same cause contributed to promote the good understanding which at
this time subsisted between a considerable section of Churchmen and
Dissenters. Possibly some practical efforts might have been set on foot
towards healing religious divisions, if the open war waged against
Christianity had long been in suspense. As it was, other feelings came
in, which tended rather to widen than to diminish the breach between men
of strong and earnest opinions on different sides. In some men of warm
religious feeling the Revolution excited a fervent spirit of Radicalism.
However much they deplored the excesses and horrors which had taken
place in France, they did not cease to contemplate with passionate hope
the tumultuous upheaval of all old institutions, trusting that out of
the ruins of the past a new and better future would derive its birth.
The great majority of Englishmen, on the other hand, startled and
terrified with what they saw, became fixed in a resolute determination
that they would endure no sort of tampering with the English
Constitution in Church or State. Whatever changes might be made for
better or for worse, they would in any case have no change now.
Conservatism became in their eyes a sort of religious principle from
which they could not deviate without peril of treason to their faith.
This was an exceedingly common feeling; among none more so than with
that general bulk of steady sober-minded people of the middle classes
without whose consent changes, in which they would feel strongly
interested, could never be carried out. The extreme end of the last
century was not a time when Church legislation, for however excellent an
object, was likely to be carried out, or even thought of.
To return to the beginning of the period under review. 'Divine right,'
'Passive obedience,' 'Non-resistance,' are phrases which long ago have
lost life, and which sound over the gulf of time like faint and shadowy
echoes of controversies which belong to an already distant past. Even in
the middle of the century it must have been difficult to realise the
vehemence with which the semi-religious, semi-political, doctrines
contained in those terms had been disputed and maintained in the
generation preceding. Yet round those doctrines, in defence or in
opposition, some of the best and most honourable principles of human
nature used to be gathered--a high-minded love of liberty on the one
hand, a no less lofty spirit of self-sacrifice and loyalty on the other.
The open or half-concealed Jacobitism which, for many years after the
Revolution, prevailed in perhaps the majority of eighteenth-century
parsonages could scarcely fail of influencing the English Church at
large, both in its general action, and in its relation to the State.
This influence was in many respects a very mischievous one. In country
parishes, and still more so in the universities, it fostered an unquiet
political spirit which was prejudicial both to steady pastoral work and
to the advancement of sound learning. It also greatly disturbed the
internal unity of the Church, and that in a manner peculiarly
prejudicial to its well-being. Strong doctrinal and ecclesiastical
differences within a Church may do much more good in stirring a
wholesome spirit of emulation, and in keeping thought alive and
preventing a Church from narrowing into a sect, than they do harm by
creating a spirit of division. But the semi-political element which
infused its bitterness into Church parties during the first half of the
eighteenth century, had no such merit. It did nothing to promote either
practical activity or theological inquiry. Under its influence High and
Broad Church were too often not so much rival schools of religious
thought, and representatives of different tones of religious feeling, as
rival factions. King William's bishops--a set of men who, on the whole,
did very high honour to his selection--were regarded by a number of the
clergy with suspicion and aversion, as his pledged supporters both in
political and ecclesiastical matters, no less ready to upset the
established order of the Church than they had been to change the ancient
succession of the throne. These, in their turn, scarcely cared to
conceal, if not their scorn, at all events their supreme mistrust, for
men who seemed in their eyes like bigoted disturbers of a Constitution
in which the country had every reason to rejoice.
More than this, Jacobitism brought the National Church into peril of
downright schism. There was already a nucleus for it. If the Nonjuring
separation had been nothing more than the secession of a number of High
Churchmen--some of them conspicuous for their piety and learning, and
almost all worthy of respect as disinterested men who had strong
convictions and stood by them--the loss of such men would, even so, have
been a serious matter. But the evil did not end there. Although the
Nonjurors, especially after the return of Nelson and others into the lay
communion of the Established Church, were often spoken of with contempt
as an insignificant body, an important Jacobite success might at any
time have vastly swelled their number. A great many clergymen and
leading country families had simply acquiesced in the rule of William as
king _de facto_, and would have transferred their allegiance without a
scruple if there had seemed a strong likelihood that James or the
Pretender would win the crown back again. In this case the Nonjuring
communion, which always proudly insisted that it alone was the true old
Church of England, might have received an immense accession of
adherents. It would not by any means have based its distinctive
character upon mere Jacobite principles. It would have claimed to be
peculiarly representative of the Catholic claims of the English Church,
while Whigs and Low Churchmen would have been more than ever convertible
terms. As it was, High Churchism among country squires took a different
turn. But if the Stuart cause had become once more a promising one, and
had associated itself, in its relations towards the Church, with the
opinions and ritual to which the Nonjurors were no less attached than
Laud and his followers were in Charles I.'s day, it is easy to guess
that such distinctive usages might soon be welcomed with enthusiasm by
Jacobites, if for no other reason, yet as hallowed symbols of a party.
At the beginning of the eighteenth century, Church parties had been
already strained and most unhappily embittered by political dissensions;
under the circumstances supposed, division might readily have been
aggravated into hopeless schism. But Jacobitism declined; and a less,
but still a serious evil to the Church ensued. Jacobitism and the Papacy
had become in most people's minds closely connected ideas. Hence the
opinions upon Church matters prevalent among Nonjurors and their
ecclesiastical sympathisers in the Established Church became also
unpopular, and tainted with an unmerited suspicion of leaning towards
Rome. This was no gain to the Church of the Georgian era. Quite
independently of any bias which a person may feel towards this or that
shade of opinion upon debated questions, it may be asserted with perfect
confidence that the Church of that period would decidedly have gained by
an increase of life and earnestness in any one section of its members. A
colourless indifferentism was the pest of the age. Some movement in the
too still waters was sorely needed. A few Ritualists, as they would now
be called, in the metropolitan churches, zealous and active men, would
have stimulated within the Church a certain interest and excitement
which, whether it were friendly or hostile, would have been almost
certainly beneficial. But, in the middle of the century, High Churchmen
of this type would scarcely be found, except in Nonjuror 'conventicles,'
and among the oppressed Episcopalians of Scotland.
The public relations of civil society towards religion attracted in the
eighteenth century--especially in the earlier part of it--very universal
attention. Of the various questions that come under this head, there was
none of such practical and immediate importance as that which was
concerned with the toleration of religious differences. The Toleration
Act had been carried amid general approval. There had been little
enthusiasm about it, but also very little opposition. Though it fell far
short of what would now be understood by tolerance, it was fully up to
the level of the times. It fairly expressed what was thoroughly the
case; that the spirit of intolerance had very much decreased, and that a
feeling in favour of religious liberty was decidedly gaining ground.
Meanwhile, in King William's reign, and still more so in that of his
successor, there was a very strongly marked contention and perplexity of
feeling as to what was really meant by toleration, and where its limits
were to be fixed. Everybody professed to be in favour of it, so long as
it was interpreted according to his own rule. The principle was granted,
but there were few who had any clear idea as to the grounds upon which
they granted it, and still fewer who did not think it was a principle to
be carefully fenced round with limitations. The Act of Toleration had
been itself based in great measure upon mere temporary considerations,
there being a very strong wish to consolidate the Protestant interest
against Papal aggression. Its benefits were strictly confined to the
orthodox Protestant dissenters; and even they were left under many
oppressive disabilities. A great principle had been conceded, and a
great injustice materially abated. Henceforth English Dissenters, whose
teachers had duly attested their allegiance, and duly subscribed to the
thirty-six doctrinal articles of the Church of England, might attend
their certified place of worship without molestation from vexatious
penal laws. It was bare toleration, accorded to certain favoured bodies;
and there for a long time it ended. Two wide-reaching limitations of the
principle of tolerance intervened to close the gate against other
Nonconformists than these. Open heresy could not be permitted, nor any
worship that was adjudged to be distinctly prejudicial to the interests
of the State. No word could yet be spoken, without risk of heavy
penalty, against the received doctrine of the Trinity. Nonjurors and
Scotch Episcopalians could only meet by stealth in private houses. As
for Romanists, so far from their condition being in any way mitigated,
their yoke was made the harder, and they might complain, with Rehoboam's
subjects, that they were no longer chastised with whips, but with
scorpions. William's reign was marked by a long list of new penal laws
directed against them. There were many who quoted with great approval
the advice (published in 1690, and republished in 1716) of 'a good
patriot, guided by a prophetic spirit.' His 'short and easy method' was,
to 'expel the whole sect from the British dominions,' and, laying aside
'the feminine weakness' of an unchristian toleration, 'once for all, to
clear the land of these monsters, and force them to transplant
themselves.' Much in the same way there were many good people who would
have very much liked to adopt violent physical measures against
'freethinkers' and 'atheists.' Steele in the 'Tatler,' Budgell in the
'Spectator,' and Bishop Berkeley in the 'Guardian,' all express a
curious mixture of satisfaction and regret that such opinions could not
be summarily punished, if not by the severest penalties of the law, at
the very least by the cudgel and the horsepond. Whiston seems to have
thought it possible that heterodox opinions upon the mystery of the
Trinity might even yet, under certain contingencies, bring a man into
peril of his life. In a noticeable passage of his memoirs, written
perhaps in a moment of depression, he speaks of learning the prayer of
Polycarp, 'if it should be my lot to die a martyr.' The early part of
the eighteenth century abounds in indications that amid a great deal of
superficial talk about the excellence of toleration the older spirit of
persecution was quite alive, ready, if circumstances favoured it, to
burst forth again, not perhaps with firebrand and sword, but with the no
less familiar weapons of confiscations and imprisonment. Toleration was
not only very imperfectly understood, even by those who most lauded it,
but it was often loudly vaunted by men whose lives and opinions were
very far from recommending it. In an age notorious for laxity and
profaneness, it was only too obvious that great professions of tolerance
were in very many cases only the fair-sounding disguise of flippant
scepticism or shallow indifference. The number of such instances made
some excuse for those who so misunderstood the Christian liberalism of
such men as Locke and Lord Somers, as to charge it with irreligion or
even atheism.
Nevertheless the growth of toleration was one of the most conspicuous
marks of the eighteenth century. If one were to judge only from the
slowness of legislation in this respect, and the grudging reluctance
with which it conceded to Nonconformists the first scanty instalments of
complete civil freedom, or from the words and conduct of a considerable
number of the clergy, or from certain fierce outbursts of mob riot
against Roman Catholics, Methodists, and Jews, it might be argued that
if toleration did indeed advance, it was but at tortoise speed. In
reality, the advance was very great. Mosheim, writing before the middle
of the century, spoke of the 'unbounded liberty' of religious thought
which existed in England. Perhaps the expression was somewhat
exaggerated. But in what previous age could it have been used at all
without evident absurdity? Dark as was the general view which Doddridge,
in his sermon on the Lisbon Earthquake, took of the sins and corruption
of the age, freedom from religious oppression he considered to be the
one most redeeming feature of it. The stern intolerant spirit, which for
ages past had prompted multitudes, even of the kindest and most humane
of men, to regard religious error as more mischievous than crime, was
not to be altogether rooted out in the course of a generation or two.
But all the most influential and characteristic thought of the
eighteenth century set full against it. In this one respect, the virtues
and vices of the day made, it might almost be said, common cause. It
might be hard to say whether its carelessness and indifference had most
to do with the general growth of toleration, or its practical common
sense, its professed veneration for sound reason, its love of sincerity.
It is more remarkable that there was so much toleration in the last
century, than that there was also so much intolerance.
A crowd of writers, of every variety of opinion, had something to write
or say on the subject of Church establishments. But until the time of
Priestley few ever disputed the advantages derivable from a National
Church. Many would have warmly agreed with Hoadly that 'an establishment
which did not allow of toleration would be a blight and a lethargy.' So
long as this was conceded, scarcely any one wished that the ancient
union of Church and State should be dissolved. With rare exceptions,
even Nonconformists did not wish it. However much fault they might find
with the existing constitution of the Church, however much they might
inveigh against what they considered to be its errors, however much they
might point to the abuses which deformed it, and to the uncharitable
spirit of some of its clergy, they by no means desired its downfall.
Probably, it is not too much to say that to some extent they were even
proud of it, as the chief bulwark in Europe of the reformed faith. The
Presbyterians at the beginning of the century, a declining, but still a
strong body, were almost Churchmen in their support of the national
communion. Doddridge, towards the middle of the century, was a hearty
advocate of religious establishments. Even Watts, a more decided
Dissenter than he, in a poem written in the earlier part of Queen Anne's
reign, spoke as if he would be thoroughly content to see a National
Church working side by side with voluntary bodies, each labouring in the
way most fitted to its spirit in the common cause of religion. Mrs.
Barbauld, towards the end of the century, expressed the same thought;
and a great number of the more intelligent and moderate Dissenters would
have agreed in it. On the general question, we are told that about the
time of the Revolution of 1688 there was scarcely one Dissenter in a
hundred who did not think the State was bound to use its authority in
the interests of the religion of the people. Half the last century had
passed before any considerable number of them had begun to think
differently. John Wesley is sometimes quoted as unfavourable to the
connection of Church and State. Doubtless he did not greatly value it,
and perhaps he may have used some expressions which, taken by
themselves, might seem in some degree to warrant the inference just
mentioned. But the love and loyalty which, all his life through, he bore
towards the English Church was certainly connected not only with a high
estimation of its doctrines and modes of worship, but with respect for
it as the acknowledged Church of the realm. The Evangelical party in the
Church were, without exception, thorough Church and State men. John
Newton's 'Apologia' was, in particular, a very vigorous defence of
Church establishments. During the earlier stages of the French
Revolution--a period when unaccustomed thoughts of radical changes in
society became very attractive to some ardent minds in every class--the
party among the Dissenters who would have welcomed disestablishment
received the accession of a few cultivated Churchmen. But Samuel
Coleridge, Southey, and Wordsworth found reason afterwards wholly to
change their views in this, as in many other respects. Furthermore, the
increased radicalism of the few was more than counterbalanced by the
intensified conservatism of the many. The glowing sentences in which
Edmund Burke dwelt upon religion as the basis of civil society, and
proclaimed the purpose of Englishmen, that, instead of quarrelling 'with
establishments as some do, who have made a philosophy and a religion of
their hostility to such institutions, they would cleave closely to
them,' found an echo in the minds of the vast majority of his
countrymen. This had been the general feeling throughout the century.
With all its faults--and in many respects its condition was by no means
satisfactory--the Church of England had never ceased to be popular.
Sometimes it met with contumely, often with neglect; occasionally its
alleged faults and shortcomings were sharply criticised, and people
never ceased to relish a jest at the expense of its ministers. But they
were not the least inclined to subvert an institution which had not only
rooted itself into the national habits, but was felt to be the mainstay
throughout the country of religion and morals. Although too often
deficient in the power of evoking and sustaining the more fervent
emotions of piety, it was representative to the great bulk of society of
most of their aspirations towards a higher life, most of their
realisations of spiritual things. It was sleepy, but it was not corrupt;
it was genuine in its kind, so that the good it did was received without
distrust. Nor could anyone deny that throughout the country it did an
immense deal of quiet but not unrecognised good. There were few places
where the general level would not have been lower without it. It had
fought a good battle against Rome, and against the Deists; and the hold
which, since the middle of the century, had been gained in it by the
Evangelical revival proved it not incapable of kindling with a zeal
which some had begun to think was foreign to its nature. The Church,
therefore, as a great national institution, was perfectly safe.
Circumstances had no doubt forced a good deal of attention to its
relation with the State. But these discussions had few direct practical
bearings. Hence the theoretical and abstract character which they wear
in the writings of Warburton and others.
In casting a general glance over the history of the English Church in
the eighteenth century, it will be at once seen that there is a greater
variety of incident in its earlier years than in any subsequent portion
of the period. There were controversies with Rome, with Dissenters, with
Nonjurors, with Arians, and above all, with Deists. There was
correspondence and negotiation with the French and Swiss Reformed
Churches, with German Lutherans, with French Gallicans. Schemes of
comprehension, though no longer likely to be carried out, were discussed
with strong feeling on either side. There was much to be said about
occasional conformity, about toleration, about the relation between
Church and State. There was the exciting subject of 'danger to the
Church' from Rome, or from Presbyterianism, or from treason within. For
there was vehement party feeling and hot discussion in ecclesiastical
matters. Some looked upon the Low or Broad Church bishops as the most
distinguished ornaments of the English Church; others thought that if
they had their way, they would break down all the barriers of the
Church, and speedily bring it to ruin. With some, High Churchmen were
the only orthodox representatives of the English Church; in the eyes of
others they were firebrands, Jacobites, if not Jesuits, in disguise, a
greater danger to the ecclesiastical establishment than any peril from
without. No doubt party feeling ran mischievously high. There was much
bigotry, and much virulence. Such times, however, were more favourable
to religious activity than the dull and heavy stormless days that
followed. In the earlier part of the eighteenth century there were very
many men worthy to be spoken of with the utmost honour, both in the High
and Low Church parties. A great deal of active Christian work was set on
foot about this time. Thus the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge
was founded, and gathered round the table of its committee-room men of
very different opinions, but all filled with the same earnest desire to
promote God's glory, and to make an earnest effort to stem the
irreligion of the times. From its infancy, this society did a vast deal
to promote the object for which it had been established. The sister
Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts attested the
rise of missionary activity. Societies for the suppression of vice, and
for the reformation of public manners, sprang up in most of the large
towns, and displayed a great, some thought an excessive, zeal in
bringing to the bar of justice offenders against morality. Numerous
associations were formed--on much the same model as that adopted in
later years by the founders of the Methodist movement--of men who banded
to further their mutual edification, and a more devotional life, through
a constant religious observance of the ordinances and services of the
Church. In many cases they made arrangements to provide public daily
prayers where before there had been none, or to keep them up when
otherwise they would have fallen through. Parochial libraries were
organised in many parts of the kingdom, sometimes to provide religious
and sound moral literature for general public use, more often to give
the poorer clergy increased facilities for theological study. A most
beneficent work was set on foot in the foundation of Charity Schools.
During the five years which elapsed between the forming of the Christian
Knowledge Society in 1699, and the first assemblage of the Metropolitan
Charity School children in 1704, fifty-four schools had started in and
about London alone; and their good work went on increasing. The new
Churches--fifty in intention, twelve in fact--built in London and
Westminster by public grant were another proof of the desire to
administer to spiritual needs. Nor should mention be omitted of the
provision made by Queen Anne's Bounty for the augmentation of poor
livings, many of which had become miserably depauperised. By this
liberal act the Queen gave up to Church uses the first fruits and
tenths, which before the Reformation had been levied on the English
clergy by the Pope, but from Henry VIII.'s time had swelled the income
of the Crown.
The Sacheverell 'phrensy,' and the circumstances which led to the
prorogation of Convocation, are less satisfactory incidents in the
Church history of Queen Anne's reign. In either case we find ourselves
in the very midst of that semi-ecclesiastical, semi-political strife,
which is so especially jarring upon the mind, when brought into
connection with the true interests of religion. In either case there is
an uncomfortable feeling of being in a mob. There is little greater
edification in the crowd of excited clergymen who collected in the
Jerusalem Chamber, than in the medley throng which huzzaed round
Westminster Hall and behind the wheels of Sacheverell's chariot. The
Lower House of Convocation evidently contained a great many men who had
been returned as proctors for the clergy, not so much for the higher
qualifications of learning, piety, and prudence, as for the active part
they took in Church politics. There were some excellent men in it, and
plenty of a kind of zeal; but the general temper of the House was
prejudiced, intemperate, and inquisitorial. The Whig bishops, on the
other hand, in the Upper House were impatient of opposition, and often
inconsiderate and ungracious to the lower clergy. Such, for example,
were just the conditions which brought out the worse and disguised the
more excellent traits of Burnet's character. It is not much to be
wondered at, that many people who were very well affected to the Church
thought it no great evil, but perhaps rather a good thing, that
Convocation should be permanently suspended. Reason and common sense
demand that a great Church should have some sort of deliberative
assembly. If it were no longer what it ought to be, and the reason for
this were not merely temporary, a remedy should have been found in
reform, not in compelled silence. But even in the midst of the factions
which disturbed its peace and hindered its usefulness, Convocation had
by no means wholly neglected to deliberate on practical matters of
direct religious concern. And unless its condition had been indeed
degenerate, there can be little doubt that it would have materially
assisted to keep up that healthy current of thought which the stagnation
of Church spirit in the Georgian age so sorely needed. The history,
therefore, of Convocation in Queen Anne's reign, turbulent as it was,
had considerable interest of its own. So also the Sacheverell riots (for
they deserve no more honourable name) have much historical value as an
index of feeling. Ignorance and party faction, and a variety of such
other unworthy components, entered largely into them. Yet after every
abatement has been made, they showed a strength of popular attachment to
the Church which is very noteworthy. The undisputed hold it had gained
upon the masses ought to have been a great power for good, and it has
been shown that there was about this time a good deal of genuine
activity stirring in the English Church. Unhappily, those signs of
activity in it decreased, instead of being enlarged and deepened. In
whatever other respects during the years that followed it fulfilled some
portion of its mission, it certainly lost, through its own want of
energy, a great part of the influence it had enjoyed at this earlier
date.
The first twenty years of the period include also a principal part of
the history of the Nonjurors. Later in the century, they had entirely
drifted away from any direct association with the Established Church.
Their numbers had dwindled; and as there seemed to be no longer any
tangible reason for their continued schism, sympathy with them had also
faded away. There are some interesting incidents in their later history,
but these are more nearly related to the annals of the Episcopal Church
of Scotland than to our own. Step by step in the earlier years of the
century the ties which linked them with the English Church were broken.
First came the death of the venerable bishops, Ken and Frampton; then
the return to the established communion of Nelson, and Dodwell, and
other moderate Nonjurors; then the wilful perpetuation of the schism by
the consecration of bishops; then the division into two parties of those
who adopted the Communion Book of Edward VI., with its distinctive
usages, and those who were opposed to any change. All this took place
before 1718. By that time the schism was complete.
One more characteristic feature of the early part of the century must be
mentioned. The essayists belong not only to the social history of the
period, but also to that of the Church. Few preachers were so effective
from their pulpits as were Addison and his fellow-contributors in the
pages of the 'Spectator' and other kindred serials. It was not only in
those Saturday papers which were specially devoted to graver musings
that they served the cause of religion and morality. They were true sons
of the Church; and if they did not go far below the surface, nor profess
to do more as a rule than satirise follies and censure venial forms of
vice, their tone was ever that of Christian moralists. They did no
scanty service as mediators, so to say, between religion and the world.
This phase of literature lived on later into the century, but it became
duller and less popular. It never again was what it had been in
Addison's time, and never regained more than a small fraction of the
social power which it had then commanded.
After Queen Anne's reign, the main interest of English Church history
rests for a time on the religious thought of the age rather than on its
practice. The controversy with the Deists (which lasted for several
years longer with unabated force), and that in which Waterland and
Clarke were the principal figures, are discussed separately in this
work. But our readers are spared the once famous Bangorian controversy.
Its tedious complications are almost a by-word to those who are at all
acquainted with the Church history of the period. Some of the subjects
with which it dealt have ceased to be disputed questions, or no longer
attract much interest. Above all, its course was clouded and confused by
verbal misunderstandings, arising in part, perhaps, from the occasional
prolixity of Hoadly's style, but chiefly from the distorting influence
of strong prejudices.
It is unquestionable that Hoadly's influence upon his generation was
great. Some, looking upon the defects of the period that followed, have
thought of that influence as distinctly injurious. They have considered
that it strongly conduced to a negligent belief and indifference to the
specific doctrines of Christian faith, making men careless of truth, so
long as they thought themselves to be sincere; also that it loosened the
hold of the Church on the people by impairing respect for authority, and
by tending to reduce all varieties of Christian faith to one equal
level. It is a charge which has some foundation. The religious
characteristics of the age, whatever they were, were independent in the
main of anything the Whig bishop did or wrote. Still, he was one of
those representative men who give form and substance to a great deal of
floating thought. He caught the ear of the public, and engrossed an
attention which was certainly very remarkable. In this character as a
leader of religious thought he was deficient in some very essential
points. He was too much of a controversialist, and his tone was too
political. There was more light than heat in what he wrote. So long as
it was principally a question of right reason, of sincerity, or of
justice, he deserved much praise, and did much good. In all the
qualities which give fire, energy, enthusiasm, he was wanting. The form
in which his religion was cast might suit some natures, but was too cold
and dispassionate for general use. It fell in only too well with the
prevailing tendencies of the times. It might promote, under favouring
circumstances, a kind of piety which could be genuine, reflective, and
deeply impressed by many of the divine attributes, but which, in most
cases, would need to be largely reinforced by other properties not so
easily to be found in Hoadly's writings--tenderness, imagination,
sympathy, practical activity, spiritual intensity.
The rise and advance of Methodism, and its relationship with the English
Church, is a subject of very great interest, and one that has occupied
the attention of many writers. In these papers it has been chiefly
discussed as one of the two principal branches of the general
Evangelical movement.
Treatises on the evidences of Christianity constitute a principal part
of the theological literature of the eighteenth century. No systematic
record of the religious history of that period could omit a careful
survey of what was said and thought on a topic which absorbed so great
an amount of interest. But if the subject is not entered into at length,
a writer upon it can do little more than repeat what has already been
concisely and comprehensively told in Mr. Pattison's well-known essay.
The authors, therefore, of this work have felt that they might be
dispensed from devoting to it a separate chapter. Many incidental
remarks, however, which have a direct bearing upon the search into
evidences will be found scattered here and there in the course of this
work. The controversy with the Deists necessitated a perpetual reference
to the grounds upon which belief is based both in the Christian
revelation, and in those fundamental truths of natural religion upon
which arguers on either side were agreed. A great deal also, which in
the eighteenth century was proscribed under the name of 'enthusiasm' was
nothing else in reality than an appeal of the soul of man to the
evidence of God's spirit within him to facts which cannot be grasped by
any mere intellectual power. By the greater part of the writers of that
period all reference to an inward light of spiritual discernment was
regarded with utter distrust as an illusion and a snare. From the
beginning to the end of the century, theological thought was mainly
concentrated on the effort to make use of reason--God's plain and
universal gift to man--as the one divinely appointed instrument for the
discovery or investigation of all truth. The examination of evidences,
although closely connected with the Deistical controversy, was
nevertheless independent of it. Horror of fanaticism, distrust of
authority, an increasing neglect of the earlier history of Christianity,
the comparative cessation of minor disputes, and the greater
emancipation of reason through the recent Act of Toleration, all
combined to encourage it. Besides this, physical science was making
great strides. The revolution of ideas effected by Newton's great
discovery made a strangely wide gap between seventeenth and eighteenth
century modes of thinking and speaking on many points connected with the
material universe. It was felt more or less clearly by most thinking men
that the relations of theology to the things of outward sense needed
readjustment. Newton himself, like his contemporaries, Boyle, Flamsteed,
and Halley, was a thoroughly religious man, and his general faith as a
Christian was confirmed rather than weakened by his perception of the
vast laws which had become disclosed to him. On many others the first
effect was different. Either they were impressed with exorbitant ideas
of the majesty of that faculty of reasoning which could thus transcend
the bounds of all earthly space, or else the sense of a higher spiritual
life was overpowered by the revelation of uniform physical laws
operating through a seeming infinite expanse of material existence. The
one cause tended to create a notion that unassisted reason was
sufficient for all human needs; the other developed a frequent bias to
materialism. Both alike rendered it imperative to earnest minds that
felt competent to the task to inquire what reason had to say about the
nature of our spiritual life, and the principles and religious motives
which chiefly govern it. Difficulties arising out of man's position as a
part of universal nature had scarcely been felt before. Nor even in the
last century did they assume the proportions they have since attained.
But they deserve to be largely taken into account in any review of the
evidence writers of that period. Not to speak of Derham's
'Physico-Theology' and other works of that class, neither Berkeley,
Butler, nor Paley--three great names--can be properly understood without
reference to the greatly increased attention which was being given to
the physical sciences. Berkeley's suggestive philosophy was distinctly
based upon an earnest wish to release the essence of all theology from
an embarrassing dependence upon the outward world of sense. Butler's
'Analogy'--by far the greatest theological work of the century--aims
throughout at creating a strong sense of the unity and harmony which
subsists between the operations of God's providence in the material
world of nature, and in that inner spiritual world which finds its
chiefmost exposition in Revelation. Paley's 'Natural Theology,' though
not the most valuable, is by no means the least interesting of his
works, and was intended by him to stand in the same relation to natural,
as his 'Evidences' to revealed religion.
The evidence writers did a great work, not lightly to be disparaged. The
results of their labours were not of a kind to be very perceptible on
the surface, and are therefore particularly liable to be
under-estimated. There was neither show nor excitement in the gradual
process by which Christianity regained throughout the country the
confidence which for a time had been most evidently shaken. Proofs and
evidences had been often dinned into careless ears without much visible
effect, and often before weary listeners, to whom the great bulk of what
they heard was unintelligible and profitless. Very often in the hands of
well-intentioned, but uninstructed and narrow-minded men, fallacious or
thoroughly inconclusive arguments had been confidently used, to the
detriment rather than to the advantage of the cause they had at heart.
But at the very least, a certain acquiescence in the 'reasonableness of
Christianity,' and a respect for its teaching, had been secured which
could hardly be said to have been generally the case about the time when
Bishop Butler began to write. Meanwhile the revived ardour of religion
which had sprung up among Methodists and Evangelicals, and which at the
end of the century was stirring, in different forms but with the same
spirit, in the hearts of some of the most cultivated and intellectual of
our countrymen, was a greater practical witness to the living power of
Christianity than all other evidences.
In quite the early part of the period with which these chapters deal
there was, as we have seen, a considerable amount of active and hopeful
work in the Church of England. The same may be said of its closing
years. The Evangelical movement had done good even in quarters where it
had been looked upon with disfavour. A better care for the religious
education of the masses, an increased attention to Church missions, the
foundation of new religious societies, greater parochial activity,
improvement in the style of sermons, a disposition on the part of
Parliament to reform some glaring Church abuses--all showed that a stir
and movement had begun, which might be slow to make any great advance,
but which was at all events promising for the future. Agitation against
slavery had been in great part a result of quickened Christian feeling,
and, in a still greater degree, a promoting cause of it. And when the
French Revolution broke out, it quickly appeared how resolutely bent the
vast majority of the people were to hold all the more firmly to their
Christianity and their Church. Some of the influences which in the early
part of the century had done so much to counteract the religious promise
of the time, were no longer, or no longer in the same degree, actively
at work. There was cause, therefore, for confident hope that the good
work which had begun might go on increasing. How far this was the case,
and what agencies contributed to hinder or advance religious life in the
Church of England and elsewhere, belongs to the history of a time yet
nearer to our own.
Bishops, both as fathers of the Church and as holding high places, and
living therefore in the presence of the public, cannot, without grave
injury not to themselves only, but to the body over which they preside,
suffer their names to be in any way mixed up with the cabals of
self-interest and faction. At the beginning of the eighteenth century,
the Episcopal bench numbered among its occupants many men, both of High
and Low Church views, who were distinctly eminent for piety, activity,
and learning. And throughout the century there were always some bishops
who were thoroughly worthy of their high post. But towards the middle of
it, and on to its very close, there was an undoubted lowering in the
general tone of the Episcopal order. Average men, who had succeeded in
making themselves agreeable at Court, or who had shown that they could
be of political service to the administration of the time, too often
received a mitre for their reward. Amid the general relaxation of
principle which by the universal confession of all contemporary writers
had pervaded society, even worthy and good men seem to have condescended
at times to a discreditable fulsomeness of manner, and to an immoderate
thirst for preferments. There were many scandals in the Church which
greatly needed reform, but none which were so keenly watched, or which
did so much to lower its reputation, as unworthy acts of subserviency
on the part of certain bishops. The evil belonged to the individuals
and to the period, not by any means to the system of a National Church.
Yet those who disapproved of that system found no illustration more
practically effective to illustrate their argument.
Throughout the whole of the eighteenth century, almost all writers who
had occasion to speak of the general condition of society joined in one
wail of lament over the irreligion and immorality that they saw around
them. This complaint was far too universal to mean little more than a
general, and somewhat conventional tirade upon the widespread corruption
of human nature. The only doubt is whether it might not in some measure
have arisen out of a keener perception, on the part of the more
cultivated and thoughtful portion of society, of brutal habits which in
coarser ages had been passed over with far less comment. Perhaps also
greater liberty of thought and speech caused irreligion to take a more
avowed and visible form. Yet even if the severe judgment passed by
contemporary writers upon the spiritual and moral condition of their age
may be fairly qualified by some such considerations, it must certainly
be allowed that religion and morality were, generally speaking, at a
lower ebb than they have been at many other periods. For this the
National Church must take a full share, but not more than a full share,
of responsibility. The causes which elevate or depress the general tone
of society have a corresponding influence, in kind if not in degree,
upon the whole body of the clergy. Church history, throughout its whole
course, shows very clearly that although the average level of their
spiritual and moral life has always been, except, possibly, in certain
very exceptional times, higher in some degree than that of the people
over which they are set as pastors, yet that this level ordinarily rises
or sinks with the general condition of Christianity in the Church and
country at large. If, for instance, a corrupt state of politics have
lowered the standard of public virtue, and have widely introduced into
society the unblushing avowal of self-seeking motives, which in better
times would be everywhere reprobated, the edge of principle is likely to
become somewhat blunted even where it might be least expected. In the
last century unworthy acts were sometimes done by men who were
universally held in high honour and esteem, which would most certainly
not have been thought of by those same persons if they had lived in our
own day. The national clergy, taken as they are from the general mass of
educated society, are sure to share very largely both in the merits and
defects of the class from which they come. Except under some strong
impulse, they are not likely, as a body, to assume a very much higher
tone, or a very much greater degree of spiritual activity, than that
which they had been accustomed to in all their earlier years. It was so
with the clergy of the eighteenth century. Their general morality and
propriety was never impeached, and their lives were for the most part
formed on a higher standard than that of most of the people among whom
they dwelt. But they were (speaking again generally) not nearly active
enough; the spiritual inertness which clung over the face of the country
prevailed also among them. Although, therefore, the Church retained the
respect and to a certain extent the affection of the people, it fell
evidently short in the Divine work entrusted to it.
C.J.A.
* * * * *