In praise of Mrs. Bolton, Mr. Reding, and an ordinary Anglican piety

In his wonderful survey The building of the eighteenth-century church (1963), Basil F.L. Clarke refers to John Henry Newman's 1848 novel Loss and Gain. While the novel is, of course, a defence of Newman's conversion to Rome, it also provides - as Clarke notes - an apt summary of the Anglicanism of the 'long' 18th century. Newman intended it to be a fictional expression of the condemnation of the Georgian Church seen in the ridiculous polemic Deformation and Reformation. Much like the latter, however, Newman's portrayal of Georgian Anglicanism is actually rather attractive.

Clarke quoted Mrs. Bolton to illustrate the commitments of "eighteenth-century Churchmen":

give me good old George the Third and the Protestant religion. Those were the times! Everything went on quietly then.

As a brief summary of the Old High tradition, it has - despite Newman's intentions - much to commend it. George III's commitment to episcopacy, Prayer Book, and Articles significantly contributed to a post-1760 Old High hegemony in the Church of England. As an 1821 account of the king's life stated, "He was particularly conversant in the works of bishop Andrews, Jeremy Taylor, and other great fathers of our protestant church". This was a confident, generous Protestantism, both allied to the continental Reformed and Lutheran traditions, and giving refuge to French Catholic clergy fleeing the persecution of the revolutionary regime; it was described by the words of Burke, "Violently condemning neither the Greek nor the Armenian, nor, since heats are subsided, the Roman system of religion, we prefer the Protestant: not because we think it has less of the Christian religion in it, but because, in our judgment, it has more. We are Protestants, not from indifference, but from zeal". And, yes, it was a time of 'rest and quietness' in Anglicanism, far removed both from the Rage of Party of the early 18th century, and from the ecclesial civil wars initiated by Tractarians.

Similarly, Mrs. Bolton offered an insightful exhortation to her Tractarian daughter, on the value of the Prayer Book. Her words remain true in the third decade of the 21st century:

Speaking to her Tractarian daughter: I value the Prayer Book as you cannot do, my love ... for I have known what it is to one in deep affliction. May it be long, dearest girls, before you know it in a similar way; but if affliction comes on you, depend on it, all these new fancies and fashions will vanish from you like the wind, and the good old Prayer Book alone will stand you in any stead.

There is something of a cult of youth in Loss and Gain.  It is the older characters who are High and Dry; the younger are those open to "a Catholic mind". This is seen, for example, in the exchange between Mrs. Bolton and her daughter Charlotte:

"Well, my dear love, this is more than I can follow. There was young George Ashton - he always left before the sermon; and when taxed with it, he said he could not bear an heretical preacher; a boy of eighteen!"

"But, dearest mamma," said Charlotte, "what is to be done when a preacher is heretical? what else can be done? - it's so distressing to a Catholic mind."

It is, of course, Mrs. Bolton who here demonstrates wisdom and discernment. Her daughter and young Mr. Ashton - refusing the ministry of a cleric, duly authorised by the bishop, and accepted by the parish community - are demonstrating a lack of humility, caution, and modesty.  As for casually casting about the term 'heresy', the counsel of Jeremy Taylor comes to mind:

let not men be hasty in calling every dislik'd opinion by the name of Heresy.

From the wisdom of Mrs. Bolton, we turn to Mr. Reding, a country clergyman:

He had ever been a kind indulgent father. He was a most respectable clergyman of the old school; pious in his sentiments, a gentleman in his feelings, exemplary in his social relations. He was no reader, and never had been in the way to gain theological knowledge; he sincerely believed all that was in the Prayer Book, but his sermons were very rarely doctrinal. They were sensible, manly discourses on the moral duties. He administered Holy Communion at the three great festivals, saw his Bishop once or twice a year, was on good terms with the country gentlemen in his neighbourhood, was charitable to the poor, hospitable in his housekeeping, and was a staunch though not a violent supporter of the Tory interest in his county. He was incapable of anything harsh, or petty, or low, or uncourteous; and died esteemed by the great houses about him, and lamented by his parishioners.

Once again, words Newman intends to be a criticism have warmed the heart of laudable Practice. Now, perhaps some readers of this post will be slightly uneasy about such a recommendation of Mr. Reding. Communion a mere 3 times a year, at Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun? While such an approach is highly unlikely to return to Anglicanism, I would not automatically reject it: our experience of weekly reception of the Sacrament in recent decades has hardly resulted in a deeper, rich sacramental piety. If I had to choose between country clergy being avid readers of theology or sincerely believing all that was in the Prayer Book ... well, it really is not a difficult choice. Mr. Reding's relationships with parishioners, neighbours, and community are to be commended, and compare favourably (to say the least) with the consequences of Enthusiasm or Sacerdotalism for parish and communal relations. His Toryism, we note, was not of the "violent" sort: he was no populist or bigot. And, as Trollope reminds us, "No man was so surely a Tory as a country rector".

What, however, of those sermons? I confess that I have previously suggested that the "clear reasoning, sober argument, and touching exhortation" of 18th century Anglican preaching should be recovered as a means of setting forth the Christian moral vision of the good life. I have also heard more than a few 'doctrinal' sermons which have been little more than a poor and unconvincing attempt to force a particular doctrinal conviction (not required by the Articles of Religion) upon the text of scripture. So, yes, I would be content to live out the rest of my days listening to thoughtful, considered sermons on the moral duties of the Christian life.

In concluding my thoughts on Mr. Reding, I again turn to Trollope and Taylor. Trollope's account of Mr. Arabin's view of country clergy captured something of Newman's disdain - shared by many Tractarians - for such ordinary clerks in holy orders:

When Mr. Arabin left Oxford, he was inclined to look upon the rural clergymen of most English parishes almost with contempt. It was his ambition, should he remain within the fold of their church, to do somewhat towards redeeming and rectifying their inferiority and to assist in infusing energy and faith into the hearts of Christian ministers, who were, as he thought, too often satisfied to go through life without much show of either.

And yet it was from such a one that Mr. Arabin in his extremest need received that aid which he so much required. It was from the poor curate of a small Cornish parish that he first learnt to know that the highest laws for the governance of a Christian's duty must act from within and not from without.

It was Trollope, not Newman, who understood the ghostly ministry of country curates.

Then there is Taylor's advice to the clergy of his diocese. We might think that Mr. Reding - despite not being a reader - had heeded Dr. Taylor:

Use no violence to any man, to bring him to your opinion; but by the word of your proper Ministery, by Demonstrations of the Spirit, by rational Discourses, by excellent Examples, constrain them to come in: and for other things they are to be permitted to their own liberty, to the measures of the Laws, and the conduct of their Governours ...

Let the business of your Sermons be to preach holy Life, Obedience, Peace, Love among neighbours, hearty love, to live as the old Christians did, and the new should; to do hurt to no man, to do good to every man: For in these things the honour of God consists, and the Kingdom of the Lord Jesus ...

Let every Minister exhort and press the people to a devout and periodical Communion, at the least three times in the year, at the great Festivals.

Newman is owed thanks for reminding us in Loss and Gain of the goodness, wisdom, coherence, and attractiveness of Georgian Anglicanism and the Old High tradition. We can set aside the novel's predictable focus on the immature enthusiasts and instead reflect on Mrs. Bolton and Mr. Reding, exemplars of an ordinary Anglican piety too frequently overlooked, but which can still sustain and nourish the Christian life.

(The first picture is of St. David's, Manordeifi, Pembrokeshire, in the care of Friends of Friendless Churches. The second is from the Newman Window in the chapel of Oriel College, Oxford, depicting Newman as a traditional Anglican parson, in old English surplice.)