The Church of England

England is properly the country of sectarists. Multæ sunt mansiones in domo patris mei (in my Father’s house are many mansions). An Englishman, as one to whom liberty is natural, may go to heaven his own way.

England is truly the country of religious sects. Multæ sunt mansiones in domo patris mei (in my Father’s house are many rooms). Since freedom comes naturally to an Englishman, he may go to heaven in his own way.

Nevertheless, though every one is permitted to serve God in whatever mode or fashion he thinks proper, yet their true religion, that in which a man makes his fortune, is the sect of Episcopalians or Churchmen, called the Church of England, or simply the Church, by way of eminence. No person can possess an employment either in England or Ireland unless he be ranked among the faithful, that is, professes himself a member of the Church of England. This reason (which carries mathematical evidence with it) has converted such numbers of Dissenters of all persuasions, that not a twentieth part of the nation is out of the pale of the Established Church. The English clergy have retained a great number of the Romish ceremonies, and especially that of receiving, with a most scrupulous attention, their tithes. They also have the pious ambition to aim at superiority.

Nevertheless, although everyone may serve God however they think proper, their true religion is the one that makes their fortune. This is the sect of Episcopalians or Churchmen, called the Church of England, or simply the Church, to mark its supremacy. No one can hold a post in England or Ireland unless counted among the faithful. That means declaring oneself a member of the Church of England. This reason, with its mathematical certainty, has converted so many Dissenters of every persuasion that fewer than one in twenty people remain outside the Established Church. The English clergy have kept many Roman Catholic ceremonies, especially the practice of collecting their tithes with the greatest care. They also have the pious ambition to rise above others.

Moreover, they inspire very religiously their flock with a holy zeal against Dissenters of all denominations. This zeal was pretty violent under the Tories in the four last years of Queen Anne; but was productive of no greater mischief than the breaking the windows of some meeting-houses and the demolishing of a few of them. For religious rage ceased in England with the civil wars, and was no more under Queen Anne than the hollow noise of a sea whose billows still heaved, though so long after the storm when the Whigs and Tories laid waste their native country, in the same manner as the Guelphs and Ghibelins formerly did theirs. It was absolutely necessary for both parties to call in religion on this occasion; the Tories declared for Episcopacy, and the Whigs, as some imagined, were for abolishing it; however, after these had got the upper hand, they contented themselves with only abridging it.

Moreover, they devoutly instill in their flock a holy zeal against Dissenters of every denomination. This zeal grew quite violent under the Tories during the last four years of Queen Anne’s reign. But the damage went no further than broken windows at some meeting-houses and the destruction of a few such buildings. For religious fury in England ended with the civil wars. Under Queen Anne, that fury was only the hollow roar of a sea whose waves still swelled long after the storm. That storm had come when the Whigs and Tories devastated their own country, just as the Guelphs and Ghibelins once devastated theirs. Both parties found it absolutely necessary to bring religion into this conflict. The Tories supported Episcopacy, or government of the Church by bishops. The Whigs, some imagined, wanted to abolish Episcopacy. But once the Whigs gained the upper hand, they were content merely to limit it.

At the time when the Earl of Oxford and the Lord Bolingbroke used to drink healths to the Tories, the Church of England considered those noblemen as the defenders of its holy privileges. The lower House of Convocation (a kind of House of Commons) composed wholly of the clergy, was in some credit at that time; at least the members of it had the liberty to meet, to dispute on ecclesiastical matters, to sentence impious books from time to time to the flames, that is, books written against themselves. The Ministry which is now composed of Whigs does not so much as allow those gentlemen to assemble, so that they are at this time reduced (in the obscurity of their respective parishes) to the melancholy occupation of praying for the prosperity of the Government whose tranquillity they would willingly disturb. With regard to the bishops, who are twenty-six in all, they still have seats in the House of Lords in spite of the Whigs, because the ancient abuse of considering them as barons subsists to this day. There is a clause, however, in the oath which the Government requires from these gentlemen, that puts their Christian patience to a very great trial, viz., that they shall be of the Church of England as by law established. There are few bishops, deans, or other dignitaries, but imagine they are so jure divino; it is consequently a great mortification to them to be obliged to confess that they owe their dignity to a pitiful law enacted by a set of profane laymen. A learned monk (Father Courayer) wrote a book lately to prove the validity and succession of English ordinations. This book was forbid in France, but do you believe that the English Ministry were pleased with it? Far from it. Those wicked Whigs don’t care a straw whether the episcopal succession among them hath been interrupted or not, or whether Bishop Parker was consecrated (as it is pretended) in a tavern or a church; for these Whigs are much better pleased that the Bishops should derive their authority from the Parliament than from the Apostles. The Lord Bolingbroke observed that this notion of divine right would only make so many tyrants in lawn sleeves, but that the laws made so many citizens.

When the Earl of Oxford and Lord Bolingbroke used to drink toasts to the Tories, the Church of England supported them. The Church saw these noblemen as defenders of its sacred privileges. The lower House of Convocation enjoyed some standing at that time. This body was a kind of House of Commons made up entirely of clergy. At least its members were free to meet, debate Church matters, and occasionally condemn ungodly books to the flames. That is, books written against the clergy themselves. The Ministry, now made up of Whigs, does not even allow these gentlemen to meet. So they are now confined to the obscurity of their own parishes, with the melancholy task of praying for the Government’s prosperity. Yet they would gladly disturb that Government’s peace. As for the bishops, all twenty-six still have seats in the House of Lords, despite the Whigs. This is because the ancient abuse of treating bishops as barons continues to this day. But one clause in the oath the Government requires of these gentlemen severely tests their Christian patience. They must belong to the Church of England as established by law. Almost every bishop, dean, and other Church dignitary imagines he holds his position jure divino, or by divine right. So being forced to admit otherwise is deeply humiliating to them. They must acknowledge that they owe their rank to a paltry law passed by a group of ungodly laymen. A learned monk, Father Courayer, recently wrote a book defending the validity and succession of English ordinations. The book was banned in France. But do you think the English Ministry welcomed it? Far from it. Those wicked Whigs do not care a straw whether the succession of English bishops has been interrupted. Nor do they care whether Bishop Parker was consecrated in a tavern, as some claim, or in a church. For these Whigs much prefer bishops to derive their authority from Parliament rather than from the Apostles. Lord Bolingbroke observed that this idea of divine right would merely turn bishops into tyrants in lawn sleeves. The laws, however, made them citizens.

With regard to the morals of the English clergy, they are more regular than those of France, and for this reason. All the clergy (a very few excepted) are educated in the Universities of Oxford or Cambridge, far from the depravity and corruption which reign in the capital. They are not called to dignities till very late, at a time of life when men are sensible of no other passion but avarice, that is, when their ambition craves a supply. Employments are here bestowed both in the Church and the army, as a reward for long services; and we never see youngsters made bishops or colonels immediately upon their laying aside the academical gown; and besides most of the clergy are married. The stiff and awkward air contracted by them at the University, and the little familiarity the men of this country have with the ladies, commonly oblige a bishop to confine himself to, and rest contented with, his own. Clergymen sometimes take a glass at the tavern, custom giving them a sanction on this occasion; and if they fuddle themselves it is in a very serious manner, and without giving the least scandal.

The English clergy lead more orderly lives than the French clergy, and here is why. All but a very few are educated at the Universities of Oxford or Cambridge. There they are far from the depravity and corruption that rule in the capital. They receive high office only late in life, when men feel no passion but greed. By then, their ambition demands something to feed on. Positions in both the Church and the army are awarded for long service. We never see young men made bishops or colonels as soon as they leave university. Besides, most clergymen are married. They acquire a stiff, awkward manner at university, and men in this country have little familiarity with women. These habits usually oblige a bishop to limit his attentions to his own wife and be content with her. Clergymen sometimes have a drink at the tavern, as custom permits. And if they get drunk, they do so very solemnly, without causing the slightest scandal.

That fable-mixed kind of mortal (not to be defined), who is neither of the clergy nor of the laity; in a word, the thing called Abbé in France; is a species quite unknown in England. All the clergy here are very much upon the reserve, and most of them pedants. When these are told that in France young fellows famous for their dissoluteness, and raised to the highest dignities of the Church by female intrigues, address the fair publicly in an amorous way, amuse themselves in writing tender love songs, entertain their friends very splendidly every night at their own houses, and after the banquet is ended withdraw to invoke the assistance of the Holy Ghost, and call themselves boldly the successors of the Apostles, they bless God for their being Protestants. But these are shameless heretics, who deserve to be blown hence through the flames to old Nick, as Rabelais says, and for this reason I do not trouble myself about them.

That indefinable creature, part man and part myth, is neither clergy nor layman. In short, the thing called Abbé in France is a species entirely unknown in England. All the clergy here are very reserved, and most are pedants. When these English clergymen hear about their French counterparts, they thank God they are Protestants. They hear of young men notorious for their loose living, promoted to the Church’s highest offices through women’s intrigues. These young men openly court women, amuse themselves by writing tender love songs, and lavishly entertain friends at home every night. After the banquet, they retire to ask for the Holy Ghost’s help and boldly call themselves the Apostles’ successors. But these English clergymen are shameless heretics. They deserve to be blasted out of this world through the flames to old Nick, as Rabelais says. For that reason, I do not trouble myself about them.