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Home , Arnold Wylde, Brooke Foss Westcott, Charles Riley, Court of Faculties, David Court (bishop), David Wetherall

From Augustine to : The Anglican Church in and Beyond

Proceedings of the conference held at St Francis Theological College, Milton, February 12-14 2010

Edited by Marcus Harmes Lindsay Henderson & Gillian Colclough © Contributors 2010

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.

First Published 2010 Augustine to Anglicanism Conference www.anglicans-in-australia-and-beyond.org

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Harmes, Marcus, 1981 - Colclough, Gillian. Henderson, Lindsay J. (editors) From Augustine to Anglicanism: the Anglican Church in Australia and beyond: proceedings of the conference.

ISBN 978-0-646-52811-3

Subjects: 1. Anglican Church of Australia—Identity 2. Anglicans—Religious identity—Australia 3. Anglicans—Australia—History I. Title

283.94

Printed in Australia by CS Digital Print http://www.csdigitalprint.com.au/

Acknowledgements

We thank all of the speakers at the Augustine to Anglicanism Conference for their contributions to this volume of essays distinguished by academic originality and scholarly vibrancy.

We are particularly grateful for the support and assistance provided to us by all at St Francis’ Theological College, the Public Memory Research Centre at the University of Southern , and Sirromet Wines.

Thanks are similarly due to our colleagues in the Faculty of Arts at the University of Southern Queensland: librarians Vivienne Armati and Alison Hunter provided welcome assistance with the cataloguing data for this volume, while Catherine Dewhirst, Phillip Gearing and Eleanor Kiernan gave freely of their wise counsel and practical support. We also thank our printer, Danny Walsh, for his advice and skill.

Table of Contents

Introduction ...... 1

Towards an Appreciation of the Society of the Sacred Advent, Gail Ball ..... 3

Empire, Faith and Socialism: The last Victorian of Durham and the Church's colonial responsibility, Alan Cadwallader ...... 15

The Devil gets into the Belfry under the parson‘s skirts: vox populi and Early Modern Religion, Gillian Colclough ...... 33

A Struggle for Bare Existence: Planting the New Church of Jerusalem in Early , Rod Fisher ...... 49

The significance of the bush brotherhoods to Australian Anglicanism, Ruth Frappell ...... 63

Perversion, Surveillance and the Church of Purity Society, 1820- 1890, Barbara Harmes ...... 71

Reforming the English Episcopate 1600-1660, Marcus Harmes ...... 81

'... not likely to command attention or to conciliate general esteem': the Revd John Vincent, First Clergyman at Moreton Bay 1829, Jennifer Harrison ...... 93

'Queensland is Catholic as a general rule': Anglo-Catholicism in Queensland, c.1860-2010, David Hilliard ...... 103

A Cause for Joy: the Growth of Anglican Parishes in Brisbane in the 1950s, Jonathon Holland...... 117

Trends in Theological Education at St Francis Theological College, Brisbane 1975–2010: A Participant-Observer Report, Gregory C Jenks. . 133

For God and Empire: Donaldson's War, Alex Kidd ...... 147

Anglicanism and Communism in Cold War Australia: The Visit of the 'Red ' of , 1950, Doris le Roy ...... 161

John Shelby Spong and his approach to the Biblical Narratives, Gordon Lilley ...... 179

Church House: Administrative Hub of the Brisbane Diocese 1909-1980, John Mackenzie-Smith ...... 191

i

The Rediscovery of Participation in God as Deification/Divinisation (Greek:Theōsis) in the Anglican Theological and Spiritual Tradition, Craig McBride ...... 205

Anzac Day as Australia's All Souls' Day: David John Garland's Vision for Commemoration of the Fallen, John A Moses ...... 213

Issues facing a colonial bishop, Ronald Nicolson ...... 223

The 'Chosen People': Religion and the Formation of Identity. The Afrikaners – A Case Study, 1880-1938, Sheilagh Ilona O‟Brien ...... 231

The Diocese of : Establishment, Initiatives and the Future, Robert Philp ...... 247

Religious Self-fashioning as a Motive in Early Modern Diary Keeping: The Evidence of Lady Margaret Hoby's Diary 1599-1603, Travis Robertson . 253

The Influence of Ecumenical Movements in empowering Australian Anglican Women, Mavis Rose...... 267

God and Men of the Western Region, Barry Shield ...... 279

A W Averill and the Diocese of Auckland 1918-1940, Geoff Troughton . 291

God's Kindergarten?: Women priests and in the Anglican Church of Australia, David Wetherall ...... 303

Anglican Ecumenism in Australia before : Relations with the Presbyterian Church in Australia, Robert S M Withycombe ...... 317

Church, Chapel, Hall or Shed? Anglican churches in the Australian Capital Territory, Susan Mary Withycombe ...... 327

List of Contributors ...... 339

ii

Introduction This volume represents a selection of the papers delivered at the ‘From Augustine to Anglicanism’ conference held at St Francis Theological College in Brisbane in February 2010. The conference from which these papers are derived was open-themed, but as the title indicates, overall our intention was to offer scholarly interrogation of the origins, development and worldwide dispersal and influence of the Ecclesia Anglicana. The conference presentations covered a wide spectrum of Anglican studies, from the British Church at the time of the Venerable Bede, through its reformations in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to the Anglican Church in twenty-first century Australia. Consequently, the papers survey the Anglican Church in the British Isles, Australia, North America, Africa and , nations where the British Church, after the , exercised cultural, linguistic, spiritual and political influence. The prospect of holding a conference devoted to Anglican Studies generated considerable excitement in the academic community; it is rare that an entire conference in Australia is given over to the Anglican Church. Although the conference is open-themed, as the abstracts and then full papers arrived, it became clear that many participants had chosen to situate Anglican studies within a much broader context, selecting topics of capital significance to Australian history (including the First Fleet, , the Cold War, the history of public education, Indigenous interaction with white culture, the expansion of colonial settlements and the Whitlam government among others) and exploring the contribution of Anglican perspectives to these events and in turn reading these events from the point of view of the history of the Anglican Church. The papers at this conference are an opportunity to explore themes which engage with a world of more than just immediate significance to Anglicans and Anglican scholars. Indigenous history, the impact of on cultural frontiers, gender studies and other fields all appeared during this conference in fresh guises, viewed from the perspective of the significance of the Anglican input to these areas and written with the archival and historical resources of the Anglican Church. This conference also indicates the current strength and vitality of Anglican Studies in Australia, even though the mainstream historiography of Australian history, especially major set pieces of national significance, such as the ANZAC legend, tends to ignore the contribution of the and then the Anglican Church of Australia to the formation of national identity. Nor is the history of the Anglican Church often considered in relation to the general trajectory of Australian history. In contrast the Roman in Australia has never lacked interpreters, not least because of its involvement in other much-discussed episodes of Australian History, such as the 1916 Conscription Referendum, the development of Cold War Politics and the splits in state and federal Labor in the 1950s. In these circumstances

1 and others, Roman Catholicism earned its place in the academic mainstream of Australian studies. It is only relatively recently that scholars have been inclined to look seriously or systematically at the history of the Anglican Church as it interacted with broader currents of Australian historical development or to consider how Anglicanism interacted with broader elements of Australian society. It is also only relatively recently that historical writings on the Anglican Church in Australia have moved significantly beyond the realm of the important but (dare we say it) sometimes internally focused parish histories, diocesan commemorations or local historical societies and into the mainstream of Australian history to consider how the Anglican Church worked within a broader national context. The papers at this conference acknowledge this lacuna in the historical consciousness and engage with its implications, stressing for instance the overlooked attention to the Anglican Church during Cold War scares or the seminal influence of Anglican religiosity in formulating Australian and New Zealand ANZAC Day commemorations. In addressing these themes, the scholars in this volume have worked within a number of disciplines and methodologies, including theology, biography, sociology and the History of Ideas. In reading this volume, you may disagree with some perspectives and be impressed by the insights of others. This was always our intention. As Sir Francis Bacon wrote in 1605 amid the days of turmoil and tumult that accompanied the Ecclesia Anglicana’s challenges in getting to know itself and define its identity:

For it is the true office of history to represent the events themselves together with the counsels, and to leave the observations and conclusions thereupon to the liberty and faculty of every man’s judgment.

We trust that you will enjoy sharing our journey of many centuries, characters, groups and nations as much as we have enjoyed and been humbled by the breadth of scholarship and topics offered to us.

Marcus Harmes Lindsay Henderson Gillian Colclough

February 2010

2

Towards an Appreciation of the Society of the Sacred Advent

Gail Ball Independent Scholar

The relationship between SSA and the High Church hierarchy in Queensland was always one of close co-operation enhancing the expansion of the Society to become in the 1930‟s the largest of the sisterhoods in Australia at the time. This general unity of purpose between the Society and the Church was in great contrast to the experiences of other sisterhoods, particularly the Community of the Sisters of the Church– an English Order which arrived in and in 1892 without ecclesiastical invitation into dioceses with a distinctly Low Church hue. The churchmanship in Melbourne at the time also played a major part in the delay of the Community of the Holy Name becoming a religious order from its deaconess beginnings in 1888. Anglican religious orders were created and developed in line with that of the country from its colonial beginnings. The outreach of these communities played an important part in that development particularly in Queensland and . Although the number of Anglican religious sisters has been small the role they played has been far out of proportion to their numbers, through the many facets of social work and education undertaken.

On the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the Society of the Sacred Advent (SSA), Archbishop J.W.C. Wand called the Society, 'the most important institution in the Anglican Church in Queensland'1. The Society had been founded in Brisbane by Canon Montagu Stone-Wigg and Sister Caroline Amy Balquay (c1837–1915), a former member of the Community of St John the Baptist, Clewer in the Diocese of . This sisterhood was one of the earliest instituted (1852) by the spiritual reformation generated in England by the catholic-orientated Oxford or Tractarian Movement. This Movement, in conjunction with Victorian social concerns, brought about the unexpected introduction of the community life into the English church. The casual ease with which this occurred was little less than astonishing given the destruction of monasticism during the Reformation in England three centuries earlier and the abhorrence with which the religious life was viewed by the majority of the , who saw it as papist and alien. The religious life is a disciplined, communal one led under vows ranging from an active lifestyle led in the world, to an enclosed contemplative life. Using various combinations of the Benedictine and Augustinian Rules, the early communities were adaptations of contemporary Roman Catholic communities. But unlike that paradigm, a far more arduous prayer life was supplemented with the diverse outreach. As a result, in this so-called mixed way of the religious life, there was no rigid separation

1 Society of the Sacred Advent, A Short History of the Society of the Sacred Advent (1892- 1942), Brisbane, 1943, p.3. 3 between the contemplative and active life of Anglican religious communities successfully established in the nineteenth century.2 The earliest communities in England undertook work amongst the poor and distressed which expanded into institutional social work. Apart from greatly influencing the communal spiritual ethos, the active work is also seen to fulfill a role in the hope that God will be revealed to those who benefit from the outreach. Perpetual vows were intended to be taken at life profession but this caused such debate that in most of the early communities they were not taken until sisterhoods became more established on an institutional footing and acceptable to the Church of England's hierarchy.3 Nevertheless while sisterhoods formed with increasing regularity, dislike for these institutions persisted. This resulted in the accent being publicly placed on the social work while the spiritual life and aim of personal holiness was underplayed. Theological considerations aside, most Victorians were as much concerned with the independence of regular sisterhoods, which seemed to undermine the patriarchal family on which church and state were built.4 A further major reason that added to the suspicion in which the sisterhoods were held was their association with the long-lived ritualist controversy. The growth of ritualism occurred in tandem with the emergence of Anglo- Catholicism, the offspring of Tractarianism that became its extreme wing. It was suspected of being a plot to take the English Church over to Rome.5 A further obstacle for the sisterhoods was a lack of genuine episcopal or clerical support.6 An important factor in this attitude was the independence of the communities from clerical control. The alternate introduction of the Deaconess Movement hoped that women, under the control of the clergy, would become the principal group of female workers in the Church.7 However unlike the Australian experience, this movement in England was never able to attract anything like the numbers of recruits that chose the religious life. Finally in the 1890‘s the English episcopate officially recognised brotherhoods, sisterhoods and deaconesses.8 In many ways this acceptance can be seen as due to the desire for episcopal control of these institutions, as by then there were between 2,000 and 3,000 women in religious orders - more than at the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the sixteenth century.9 In 1891, at the time when the Australian colonies were moving towards federation and universal suffrage, the Australian Synod approved

2 M. Hill, The Religious Order, , 1973, p.292. 3 M Vicinus, Independent Women, London, 1985, p.57. 4 Encel S.,Mackenzie N.,Tebbutt M., Women and Society, Melbourne, 1974, p.16. 5 Casteras S.P.,‘Virgin Vows‘,Malmgreen G.(ed), Religion in the lives of English Women(1760-1930), London, 1986, p.130. 6 O Chadwick, The Victorian Church Part 1, London, 1966, p.510. 7 Hill, The Religious Order, p.150. 8 R Coleman (ed)., Resolutions of the Twelve Conferences,1867-1988, Toronto, 1992, p.18, resolution 11. 9 B Heeney, The Women‟s Movement in the Church of England, 1850-1930, Oxford, 1988, p.63. 4 the introduction of deaconess institutions and religious communities10. While agitation for the introduction of these different aspects of women‘s work was an outcome of particular theological outlooks, it was more importantly because of social factors which had arisen. Acceptance for these institutions had to occur in a vastly different social and ecclesiastical environment to that in England. Each colony had a different sectarian mix of settlers with a high proportion overall of Irish Roman Catholics and Nonconformists, quite unlike the situation in England11. So even though by the end of the century the trend saw dioceses in which particular theologies and forms of worship tended to become dominant, the laity was not usually of any particular 'colour'. They had always tended to lean more to a common Protestant identity, fuelled by their detestation of Irish Catholics and the Church of Rome. Accordingly Tractarianism was mainly a clerical preoccupation and the subsequent emergence of ritualism in the colonial Church was greeted with horror by many, particularly the laity. Consequently to gain acceptance in Australia the emphasis on the practical outreach of the dedicated life-style of the sisterhoods was emphasised by the sisters themselves. There is no doubt this attitude was detrimental to the understanding of the concept of vocation and the communal nature of the spirituality of the religious order, at the core of the life. In the predominantly evangelical Sydney diocese, Bishop had commissioned the first deaconess in Australia in 1886.12 This act was followed by the commissioning of two of the women workers at the Melbourne Mission to the Streets and Lanes in 1890 by Bishop F.F. Goe. Emma Esther Silcock, a novice nun on leave from the Community of St Mary the Virgin, Wantage, had run this Mission in the appalling inner city slums since 1888.13 The rapid increase in population in the major cities of the colonies caused by the boom of the previous decades, although having many positive benefits, had also created depressed social conditions in the inner city almost rivalling their English counterparts. This problem could be particularly seen in Melbourne which had become the premier city of the colonies, known as ‗Marvellous Melbourne‘, with a strong manufacturing base and 500,000 people. But behind this façade was the grim reality of the slums.14 On the other hand, Brisbane was the foremost importing port in Queensland but did not become a commercial centre or develop servicing and market industries like Melbourne and Sydney until after the Second World War. However by the end of the century it had developed from the penal colony of Moreton Bay to a city of 100,000 people with areas of great deprivation and poverty like Sydney and Melbourne.15

10 Australian Record Newspaper, Oct 3, 1891, p.1; K Cole, A History of CMS in Australia, Melbourne, 1971, p.13; Synod formed in 1872 but each diocese remained autonomous - no decision of the Australian Synod was binding. 11 W Vamplew (ed), Australians: Historical Statistics, Sydney, 1987, p.421-425,and J Scott-Keltie, The Statesman‟s Year Book, London, 1892, p.243ff. 12 M Porter, Women in the Church , Melbourne, 1989, p.43. 13 M Sturrock, ‗The Anglican Deaconess Movement in Melbourne: An Office Coveted by Few‘, BTh thesis, Melbourne College of Divinity, 1989, p.1. 14 G Davison, Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, Melbourne, 1978, p.7. 15 M Gough, Queensland - Industrial Enigma, Melbourne, 1964, p.2. 5

Despite these social conditions, the main push in Australia for dedicated women‘s groups was primarily due to the secularization of education and an end to state aid to Church schools.16 Consequently following the General Synod's resolution, episcopal invitations were sent from Tasmania, Adelaide, Brisbane and North Queensland to the English Community of the Sisters of the Church (CSC). This very successful Community had been founded in 1870 by Emily Ayckbowm (1836-1900) who extended her sisterhood worldwide in the belief that God had given England her Empire to further the English Church17. Emily was further influenced by the absence of Anglican sisters in the colonies and various representations that 'every town was overrun with Roman Catholic nuns'.18 Subsequently the first sisters from CSC arrived in Australia in September 1892 with the object of being mainly involved in education in church schools. CSC had declined the invitation to Brisbane, but Canon Stone- Wigg was able to persuade Sister Caroline Amy to come instead. She arrived in the High Church diocese of Brisbane in December of the same year. The arrival of Roman-like Anglican nuns in the Australian colonies provoked similar criticism as they had received in England. Apart from their theological outlook, they were vilified for their independence from clerical control and the fear of their capacity to undermine family life. When CSC began work in the dioceses of Tasmania and Adelaide where the Community had been invited by bishops, the sisters were warmly welcomed and experienced little lay or clerical censure and in any criticism they did receive the bishops championed them. Sister Caroline received a similar reception in Brisbane. In contrast, CSC encountered suspicion and dislike in Sydney and Melbourne when the sisters arrived without episcopal invitation or sanction. In Melbourne even many Low churchmen had disapproved of the establishment of the Deaconess Mission to the Streets and Lanes and frequent criticism came from Church members. The deaconesses even experienced physical violence and despite the backing of the diocese for the Mission there appears to have been no official championing of them. The animosity lasted for many years and culminated in the loyalty of the deaconesses to the Church of England even being questioned.19 This had been seen earlier in Sydney when the arrival of CSC began a long-lived, wildly heated debate over the legitimacy of the Community. The sisters‘ arrival was now seen as 'an organised plot to destroy the Protestant character of the Church of England'20. From a later perspective this seems to have been a lot of fuss over the arrival of two or three Anglican nuns. In reality it was an argument over churchmanship at a time when sectarian bitterness was

16 Breward, A History of the Australian Churches, Sydney, 1993, p.32; theological and political divisions over education have been one of the most enduring features of Australian history. 17 A M Allchin, The Silent Rebellion, London, 1958, p.271. 18 CSC, A Valiant Victorian, London, 1964, pp.126-7. 19 CHN, Esther Mother Foundress, Melbourne, 1948, p.117; In Our Midst (IOM), 1/8/1896, p.1, pp3-4; 1/1/1900, p.4; Aug 1902, p.2. 20 Australian Record, 18/11,1893, p.12. 6 increasing over the successful achievements, particularly educational, of the large Irish Catholic population. Although the sisters mainly kept their own counsel over their treatment in Sydney one did express her feelings to Mother Emily Ayckbowm: 'there are a good many popes in the Church of England, certainly in the Sydney diocese.'21 In spite of continuing hostility in Sydney, CSC persisted with its involvement in the type of social work undertaken in England, and establishing itself across the continent. Clothing depots were opened, primary schools were started, and orphans and foundlings were cared for, while the sisters became involved in mission work, feeding the unemployed and visiting gaols and hospitals. In each centre one of the primary schools became a boarding school and developed to offer secondary education. Before the bitter altercation in Sydney there were churchmen who were happy to endorse both sisterhoods and deaconesses. However few deaconesses were appointed outside Sydney and Melbourne in the following years in the areas where the Sisterhoods were having great success. This polarizing effect was even more pronounced in Brisbane where there has never been the commissioning of a deaconess.22 On the other hand the great success story of the Deaconess Movement was been in Sydney. The Deaconess Mission in Melbourne lived and worked in the Mission premises ministering to the deprived poor during the 1890‘s Depression. The result of the sisters‘ work with social outcasts saw a House of Mercy for rescue work built and an orphanage begun for homeless and neglected children, which later expanded with a babies‘ home. The movement towards recognition as a religious order, the Community of the Holy Name (CHN), in 1912 by Archbishop was very slow and eventually occurred because of the effectiveness of the Mission‘s outreach and the development of a more open diocese in Melbourne. Initially the deaconess numbers at the Mission had grown very slowly and one reason advanced for the lack of aspirants to the life was that Australians were not very keen to lead dedicated lives - an argument which was to be repeated often over the years.23 In contrast to the beginnings of CHN and CSC in Melbourne and Sydney, SSA started with far greater clerical support in Brisbane, even if some of the laity were not so enthusiastic. On Caroline‘s arrival with a deaconess, Sister Minnie, they were welcomed at receptions given by the diocese and always enjoyed great support in the High Church diocese. They quickly became involved in mission and parochial work, including retreats, a factory girls‘ club and mothers‘ meetings were organised while a depot was opened for second-hand goods.24 Added to all this activity were Bible classes, the formation of several guilds for young women and a plan was hatched for the formation of a school and a District Nurses' Guild to send

21 Quarterly Chronicle, July 1898 No 26, p.13. 22 Letter Brisbane Archives, Patricia Ramsey,19/4/95 – this is not to say that deaconesses have never worked in Brisbane and Tress N., Caught For Life, NSW,1993, p.120 cites four as having done so. 23 IOM, op cit.,1/6/1897, p.9. 24 E. Moores, One Hundred Years of Ministry, A History of the SSA, 1892-1992, Brisbane, 1993, p.9. 7 nurses 'up country'25. The sisters were also quickly accepted by the Department of Public Instruction to care for and train orphanage girls for domestic service. The Home of the Good Shepherd was opened at Nundah in June where non-government orphans, children from the bush and neglected waifs were taken as well. A girls‘ elementary boarding school was begun in the same premises and the clergy heavily influenced the sisters in this venture, particularly Stone-Wigg, as a network of Church schools run by SSA was envisaged26. This aim was encouraged by the absence in Queensland of any Church secondary schools that were not Roman Catholic. In December 1893, Bishop Nathaniel Dawes of Rockhampton, in the absence of the Bishop of Brisbane, W. T. T. Webber, accepted the first novice of the fledgling Society and inducted Sister Caroline as Lady Superior of the Society of the Sacred Advent. The patron saint of the community was John the Baptist and the aim was ‗to be devoted to lead souls to look forward to the second Advent and in the power of the first Advent, the Incarnation, to prepare for it.27 It is fitting that Dawes was involved in the institution of the first Australian religious community because he was also responsible for the introduction in his diocese of the first bush brotherhood in Australia in 1897, the Brotherhood of St Andrew.28 Between 1884 and 1914 eleven new regional dioceses were created and in response to the need for priests, five brotherhoods were established in different outback areas from 1897 to 1914. All of these brothers were High Church or Anglo-Catholic priests. This orientation fitted into the type of churchmanship already introduced in many rural areas and helped consolidate its hold on those dioceses, particularly when the brothers became bishops.29 The profession of new members and the early formation of an Associate Group as well as the assistance of other voluntary workers enabled further expansion of SSA into St Mary‘s Rescue Home and a girl‘s reformatory, later St Michael‘s Industrial school. In 1901 a new orphanage was opened at Nundah funded through the generosity of the widow of the first bishop of Brisbane, Edward Wyndham Tufnell. Another orphanage, the Sandeman Nursery for infants was opened in connection with the Rescue Home; eventually all SSA‘s orphanages were named after the late bishop.30 Like the other major communities in Australia, social work undertaken by SSA was in areas of need either ignored or covered inadequately by the state. Nevertheless government assistance to the orphanage and rescue home was deplored in some quarters as state aid to religion while others derided the Romish background of the environment to which Protestant children were being exposed.31 These allegations were adamantly contradicted by the government and Canon Stone-Wigg.32

25 Church Chronicle, 1/6/1893, p. 3; 1/9/1893, p. 3. 26 Church Chronicle, 1/1/1895, p.12. 27 Letter, Caroline to Stone-Wigg, 28/9/1892. 28 Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane 1893, Brisbane, 1893, p.25. 29 R Frappell, The Anglican Ministry to the Unsettled Rural Districts of Australia, 1890- 1940, PhD Thesis, University of Sydney, 1992, pp.105,165; pp.221-220; twenty brothers became bishops, eighteen in Australia. 30 Moores, One Hundred Years of Ministry, pp. 43ff; Church Chronicle, 1/6/1897, p.1. 31 Church Chronicle, 1/9/1898 p.26;1/6/1897, p.2. 32 Church Chronicle, 1/4/1897, pp. 2-5. 8

The sisters' boarding school developed very slowly and was not a viable proposition until 1903. This was due to the depressed economy and particularly the widespread drought in the bush33.While it later became the Eton Girl‘s High School and finally St Margaret‘s, it had to leave the original premises in Nundah in 1907 because the site was needed for St Francis‘ Theological College34.In contrast to the public's disinterest in this school, a highly successful elementary day school was begun at St John's Cathedral, which in later years became one of two preparatory schools for St Margaret's.35 In 1897 Stone-Wigg was appointed the first Anglican bishop in New Guinea36.The Church in Brisbane was reluctant to see him go after nine years and SSA also viewed his departure with mixed feelings. He had been intimately involved with the Society as well as being its founder, warden and champion37.With the departure of Stone-Wigg a period of internal instability that had been brewing for several years in the Society emerged. This was a result of personality clashes as well as the different outlook of the Australians who were joining the Society38. The outcome was that Sister Caroline decided to return to England in 1905 with the regret that she had ever 'attempted to bring English vocations to Queensland'39. She rejoined Clewer in 1909 where she remained until her death in 1915.40 External factors also appear to have played a part in the problems that brought about the resignation of the founding superior of SSA. The obvious personality differences were exacerbated by the heavy load of work and prayer undertaken by the sisters, as well as the need to support themselves financially in a depressed economy. From the earliest days of the Society, the Brisbane diocese (which had great financial problems itself) was only able to give moral support to the sisters and they were left to fend for themselves financially.41 When Sister Caroline left Brisbane the Society was in a most unstable position and the financial situation was precarious. Through the partnership of the new superior, Mother Emma Crawford (c1864 -1939) and the sub-Dean of Brisbane, later Bishop, Henry Frewen Le Fanu, the Society was able to stabilise itself and a long period of expansion eventuated42.

33 Church Chronicle, 1/1/1903,p.88;1/5/1903, p.154. 34 Church Chronicle, May 1907,p.211; Sr Emma‟s Diary 1910 (handwritten); When the opened in 1911 there were two St Margaret‘s girls amongst the first students. 35 The Advent, Christmas, 1927, p.16; the other preparatory school was St Augustine‘s Hamilton. 36 Wetherell D., Reluctant Mission, St Lucia, 1977,pp.52-4. 37 Sr Emma‘s Diary 1898(handwritten); CC, 2/8/1897,pp.1, 4. 38 Letter from Sr Emma to Caroline, August,1903. 39 Letter from Caroline to Bishop St Clair Donaldson, 1/1/1905. 40 Sr Elisabeth, The Society of the Sacred Advent, Past, Present and Future: Memoirs from 1917-1969 , typewritten, 1970, p.41; Clewer had no idea until 30 years later that SSA had survived in Australia 41 A.P. Kidd, ‗Brisbane Episcopate of St Clair Donaldson (1904-21)‘, PhD thesis, University Of Queensland, 1995, p.37; Brisbane unlike other dioceses received no government subsidies or land grants. 42 Moores, One Hundred Years of Ministry, p.68; Le Fanu was warden of SSA from 1905- 29, Australian Dictionary of Biography (ADB), Vol 10, pp 60-2; Le Fanu was Archbishop of from 1929-46 and Primate from 1935-46. 9

Therefore while it is acknowledged by SSA that Sister Caroline Amy was the foundress, it is to Mother Emma that the Society owes its heart and ethos. The introduction and establishment of the religious life in Australia was not an easy undertaking for the pioneer sisters. Churchmanship, the economic depression and devastating drought of the 1890‘s caused varying difficulties where the three separate communities settled. The diverse outreaches undertaken in social work and teaching were those inadequately covered or neglected completely by the state. Given the small numbers of women involved and the resultant slow process of recruitment of full members, these endeavours were necessarily in conjunction with the cooperation of friendly parishes, paid help, the benefaction of supporters and the establishment of associate members who, with other volunteers, provided essential support. All Anglican communities following the mixed life have experienced difficulties in keeping a balance between social work in the outside world and that of the prayer life. This was particularly so in the early days in Australia before the prayer life was shortened in the second half of the 20th century. While CSC had an established Rule and prescribed prayer life, the formulation of a Rule and community prayer life for SSA and the Deaconess Mission, while no doubt influenced by the English communities of Caroline and Esther, grew slowly from the experience of the communities43. While a rigorous prayer life was the goal, flexibility had to be the key given the call of the work undertaken and the public emphasis placed on that outreach. Thus the sense of a communal spiritual life under Rule, which is the basis of the religious life, was difficult to maintain in a pioneering scene. The path of Anglican sisterhoods in Australia from the last decade of the nineteenth century until the First World War was one of establishment. The interwar years were to see expansion and the consolidation of the three major communities‘ outreach. For SSA this lasted until 1929 when the Great Depression coincided with the departure of Le Fanu for Perth as Archbishop. During World War One there was a threefold increase in the number of professed sisters which enabled the Society‘s work to be increased.44 SSA expanded into running and staffing hospitals in Brisbane - a Diocesan Hospital, ‗Pyrmont' which later became the much larger St Martin‘s and the Mary Sumner Maternity Hospital. At the invitation of Bishop J.O.Feetham, SSA agreed to begin schools in North Queensland where the sisters worked in close co-operation with the bush brotherhoods. The arrangement was that the diocese would provide the school buildings and the sisters run the schools. The bishop, a former bush brother, believed that religious orders would bring to educational endeavours a large measure of stability and spiritual values as opposed to change and materialism.45

43 Sr Esther, The Internal and External Rule (handwritten, ND). 44 SSA, Short history of SSA, op cit.,p.16 – in 1910 there were 10 sisters and 30 in 1930.Between 1910 and 1940, 55 took perpetual vows far more than either CSC or CHN; Church Chronicle, Jan 1911,p.405-a small High school was taken over at Stanthorpe, later amalgamated with another small school in Warwick and became St Catharine‘s. 45 SSA, Jubilee Handbook, 1892-1952,Brisbane, ND, p.21. 10

In 1917 St Anne‘s school was opened in Townsville and even though the town had been exposed to Feetham‘s strong Anglo-Catholicism for four years, the arrival of three Anglican nuns caused a sensation. Nevertheless the school became an enormous success as did those which followed – St Mary‘s at Herberton near Cairns, St Gabriel‘s at Charter‘s Towers and All Saints Hostel at Charleville.46 Despite these achievements the sisters who ran the boarding schools in North Queensland did so under great difficulties. There were very few of them, finances were often spread very thin and they were isolated from the community in Brisbane as well as from one another in the North. Herberton was a two day trip from Charters Towers by train and often provisions for the schools were precarious as a result of shipping strike action.47 This situation existed because the rail link between Brisbane and Cairns was not completed until 1924.48 Feetham acknowledged that these pioneer sisters were responsible for the success of the schools and he praised Sister Alice, the sister-in- charge, as the 'inspiration and the mainspring of the work of secondary education in North Queensland.'49 In 1926 Sister Elisabeth was appointed Assistant Superintendant of the Society and in charge of St Margaret‘s School. Just as the Great Depression was beginning a branch of the school was opened - St Aidan‘s, Corinda. This was not an auspicious time to begin new ventures and the school became a drain on the sister‘s resources for many years. However like the situation in the Northern Schools where money was usually short the sisters survived on faith and the schools all became great successes. Perhaps showing more faith than logic SSA agreed to take over St Faith‘s Yeppoon in 1932 in the middle of the Depression.50 In 1939 Mother Emma died and the expansionist era of SSA died with her. Mother Emma‘s influence had extended throughout Queensland. The work of SSA has been described as the great romance of the Church in Queensland and when Emma died Bishop Feetham wrote of her pervasive influence: 'Of all the people who have lived in Queensland few have affected it so powerfully as Mother Emma. She ranks as the principal benefactress of this diocese'51. He went on to comment that it was remarkable that such a small handful of women had been able to handle so many institutions so efficiently52. Such praise also applies to the sisters of CSC and CHN as the volume and diversity of the work these communities had undertaken, was also far out of proportion to their numbers. This was

46 Frappell, The Anglican Ministry to the Unsettled Rural Districts of Australia, p.432 - the great pioneering work for the Church had been done in N. Queensland by bush brotherhoods. 47 F. Stacy, The Religious Communities of the Church of England in Australia and New Zealand, Sydney, 1929, p.43. 48 Gough, Queensland - Industrial Enigma, p.6 49 Memoir by the Bishop of North Queensland, Townsville, ND, p.8-9. 50 SSA, Short History, p.21; Moores, One Hundred Years of Ministry,p.66- The only time SSA worked outside Queensland was at CSC‘s Parkerville Orphanage in Perth at the request of Archbishop Le Fanu. 51 Church Chonicle,1/5/39, p.1458. 52 Northern Churchman, 1/4/1939, Vol XL No 573(article by the Bishop of North Queensland). 11 even taking into consideration the practical help given by the much larger number of associates they were able to attract. Following the difficulties of the depression years, the Second World War affected the sisterhoods in Australia in varying degrees, but none could remain unscathed by its aftermath in which a vastly different world developed. The second half of the century was to see changes that caused most of the practical reasons for the existence of this type of religious order to become undermined. In the 1940s the community appeared to be flourishing as SSA controlled many important institutions in Queensland and had attracted reasonable numbers of new recruits in the preceding decades. Appearances were deceptive, as there were only 35 sisters, of who one third were elderly and many were invalids; there were no novices or postulants. This situation continued throughout the decade and although there were numbers of aspirants, those who joined the Society were not young women. To add to the problems, the depression years of the thirties had resulted in financial embarrassment for the community, as it had for the Church itself.53 The country schools had been most badly affected because of the devastating drought that once again followed a depression. The outcome was that while the Society owned valuable property in Brisbane, the sisters lived on an overdraft.54 This financial situation was one that had existed throughout the history of SSA. Despite the of Brisbane being involved as visitors with the Society for much of its history, the diocese, because of its own continual financial difficulties, only ever gave moral support to the community. Even this tended to wane over time, as the diocesan schools became the main concern. From the establishment of SSA, the sisters were on their own financially, unless they were running institutions like the schools in North Queensland in association with the diocese. Consequently they depended on donations and income from works, which frequently did not cover expenses. Despite the help given in the North, a great deal of economic strain was thus experienced as the Society expanded its operations throughout Queensland. When Mother Emma died after leading the Society for 33 years, Sister Elisabeth was elected and installed as the second superior. The state of affairs that Mother Elizabeth inherited convinced her that to cope with the financial situation and the lack of personnel, there was a need for geographical centralisation of the Society's outreach. This meant the withdrawal from the remote northern schools - a move she knew would be highly unpopular.55 Before any shift in this direction could begin World War II intervened and brought even greater worries. In the early forties the potential invasion of the Japanese prompted the brief suspension of all schools in the city area of Brisbane, which came to resemble a garrison town. Until the danger was past the sisters arranged for the country girls from the Brisbane schools to take correspondence courses, while the pupils in the city were tutored in groups in private

53 Kidd, ‗Brisbane Episcopate of St Clair Donaldson (1904-21)‘, iii, p.37. 54 Sr Elisabeth, Memoirs, pp.41-42. 55 Sr Elisabeth, Memoirs, p.43. 12 homes56. In the North, St Anne's School was taken over by the American forces in 1941 and the pupils, with those from St Gabriel's, Charters Towers, were forced to move further inland for safety. Closer to Brisbane St Faith's Yeppoon, was also evacuated, while the Tufnell Children's Home and St John's Cathedral School in Brisbane were both seconded by the United States Army57.The latter was an immediate casualty of the War for SSA and it did not reopen. Another was the Yeppoon School, which was handed back to the diocese in 1944.58 The war years exacerbated the problems with finance and staffing which Elisabeth had recognised in 1939. Consequently, she began a serious campaign for the withdrawal from the northern schools after the war. As she had feared, the Chapter disagreed with this proposal and a new superior who had worked in North Queensland was elected in her place in 1948.59 The post-war new world order that emerged led to a movement for identity and direction that was to affect all those living the religious life. When the state accepted more responsibility for social concerns after the war, the sisterhoods were unable to compete with the governmental scale, financially or professionally. Ironically in many cases this involved state assistance to the churches, which all developed large institutional ministries60.In concert with the decreasing numbers of personnel, this outcome spelt the end of the institutional work in which the sisterhoods had been involved. From the sixties, the instigation of Vatican II in association with the profound changes taking place in society were symptomatic of a shift in thought which had been in progress for some while. At the same time, a movement that had been underway in religious communities came to the fore. This resulted in the questioning of all aspects of the life, its role and relevance. The outcome saw a redefinition of the quest for perfect holiness to mean in human terms the development of the wholeness of the individual. This necessitated a change from the traditional view of self- abnegation and dependence to one of self-knowledge and responsibility. SSA, like its compatriots, did not escape a time of trial through the internal and external changes to the religious life after the sixties. The problems the Society encountered were exacerbated by the loss of members through death and departure. By 1980 SSA withdrew from running the very successful St Margaret's and St Aidans's Schools in Brisbane, while all the northern schools were handed over to diocesan management as was St Michael's Preparatory school in Brisbane, St Catharine's Warwick, and in the same year the Tufnell Children's Home61. St Martin‘s Hospital had been

56 H Amies, ‗The Aims, Ideals and Achievements of the Society of the Sacred Advent in Queensland, 1892-1962‘, BA (Hons) Thesis, University of Queensland, 1968, p.113. 57 Moores, One Hundred Years of Ministry, p.15. 58 Moores, One Hundred Years of Ministry, p.42; Church Chronicle, 1/11/44, p.324l; Bishop Ash of Rockhampton wrote of the great spiritual loss this departure would cause. 59 Sr Elisabeth, Memoirs, p. 12; pp.55-56; just before the end of her tenure a small Franciscan sisterhood, daughters of St Clare which worked in Brisbane joined SSA. This was one of three Franciscan communities to work in Australia – Order of St Elizabeth of Hungary (WA) and Clare Community (Stroud, NSW). 60 Breward, A History of the Churches in Australasia , p.192. 61 Moores, One Hundred Years of Ministry, pp.66-67. 13 closed in 1971 to make way for the building of a geriatric hospital at Symes Grove. When this was completed in 1982 it enabled the aged, frail sisters to be accommodated together in St Michael's House where they continued their work of counselling and friendship amongst the other elderly residents.62 In the eighties a retreat centre was opened in the grounds of St Margaret's School and since then the sisters of SSA have endeavoured to find new directions in the rapidly changing world inside and outside the community. While the Society retained ownership and some involvement in its large Brisbane schools, the sisters moved into community and parish work, counselling, hospital chaplaincy and retreat work.63 The major problem for the Anglican communities in Australia was always the lack of recruits, a situation they shared with other forms of the dedicated life such as deaconesses and bush brotherhoods. The undoubted contribution to the development of the country through the work undertaken by the three major communities, managed with less than 300 dedicated women over 100 years has been acknowledged. They were far more successful than their numbers could have foreseen. On the other hand, it is difficult to assess the outcome of their evangelizing mission but given the scope of the work in the care and education, particularly of the young, it must have been considerable. Nonetheless it is plain that Anglicanism in general has not been very accepting of religious orders. This was emphasised by Archbishop of Canterbury when he described the religious life as the 'Best kept secret in the Church'.64 While there are varying factors which can be seen as contributing to this situation, it does appear that the strength of the Protestant Reformation and its aftermath on the mindset of Anglicans has militated against general support for religious communities. Exceptions have been in some High Church dioceses but this too has been spasmodic, particularly amongst the laity. Time alone will tell whether the institution of Anglican communities in the nineteenth century was only due to a unique combination of social and spiritual circumstances which have ceased to exist; or whether as new forms of the life emerge Anglicans may as a whole come to welcome the life as a legitimate part of their brand of Christianity. What remains of importance to Anglican communities today is their prophetic role in society and the rediscovered emphasis on pastoral care. As Sister Elizabeth SSA wrote many years ago: In an age when men sit lightly to their word, to live under the threefold vows is to emphasise the sacredness of the pledged word. In an age when material possession and ownership have taken over the lives of so many, when sexuality has been exalted into a thing divorced from all love and true affection and when so many are finding not freedom but slavery through the erection of the individual will - in such an age, the Religious Life is a sign, a symbol, a pointer to other standards of value.65

62 Moores, One Hundred Years of Ministry, pp.54,57. 63 Church Scene, No 683, 18/12/92,p.6. 64 CSC Newsletter, Vol 29 No 2 1996, p.3. 65 SSA, Notes on the Rule, Brisbane, Roberts and Russell Ltd, nd, p. 28ff 14

Empire, Faith and Socialism: The last Victorian and the Church's colonial responsibility

Alan Cadwallader Australian Catholic University,

Brooke Foss Westcott was variously described as a giant and a prophet in the immediate aftermath of the Victorian era. This Professor of Divinity and Bishop of Durham has left a lasting heritage for biblical scholarship. However his influence in other more mundane matters was equally profound not merely for the stamp and contribution made to Victorian society but for the carriage of that influence to all parts of the and beyond. A succession of young men bore the mark of Westcott to India, Japan, South Africa and Australia. From the promotion of workers‟ rights on the wharves of town to a Christian justification of the Boer War, from the missionary application of social brotherhood to the Christian defence of the White Australia Policy in the leafy suburb of Unley, Westcott‟s ideas on socialism, imperialism and the social expression of faith were refracted by his protégés in divergent directions. This paper identifies traces of Westcott‟s influence particularly in the Australian context and seeks to explore how potentially conflicting notions and representations could stem from a single source.

I begin with an exploration of Bishop Westcott of Durham‘s influence beyond Britain by using three embodied examples of the impact of his ideas in different parts of Australia. The publishing house of Macmillan had ensured that Westcott‘s books were at the vanguard of their supply of the colonies;1 colonial libraries, designed for the improving reading of the locals, were regularly stocked with his writings by generous church members; and examination bibliographies frequently made his texts required reading. But the claim to Westcott‘s mentorship by Bishop John Mercer of Tasmania, the Reverend Arthur West of Adelaide and the Reverend, later Bishop, George Halford of Rockhampton, ensured that Westcott‘s influence was personally felt in Australia.2 These churchmen will be explored in turn. I will endeavour to bring some critical perspectives to Westcott‘s socialism, his imperialism and his understanding of the brotherhood of faith that inspired both and held them precariously together and to ponder the impact of disciples on a master‘s voice. It is in many ways an inaugural undertaking; Ian Breward‘s important, expansive survey of the history of the churches in Australasia3 gives considerable airplay to the

1 Macmillan, amongst British publishing houses generally, were more interested in the centrifugal flow of authors: see L. Trainor, ‗Australian Writers, British Publishers 1870- 1910: Talking to the Nation?‘, Australian Historical Studies, 37, 2006, pp. 140-55. 2 Australia was far from an isolated case: Westcott was frequently incarnated in the United States, India, Japan and South Africa through other devotees. Moreover, these three are far from the only members of the clergy serving in Australia, who claimed the Westcott influence or mantle. 3 I. Breward, A History of the Churches in Australasia, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2001. 15 significance of socialism, imperialism and brotherhood but contains no mention of Westcott. 'There were giants in the land then.' This was the sentimental misappropriation of a biblical text reiterated by Mrs , who survived the who bridged the Victorian and Edwardian eras. She was writing of Brooke Foss Westcott4 and the ascription was not novel. Sir William Richmond‘s portrait that hangs at Westcott House Cambridge and a copy that towers above the fireplace at the Brotherhood House in Delhi was designed to convey just such a sentiment. So successful was the evocation that, at Westcott House, I had to disabuse the students of their conception that Westcott was a physical colossus. The Cambridge professor and later Bishop of Durham barely scaled five feet, barely topped eight stone.5 His voice was so high-pitched, especially in early years,6 that he repeatedly avoided invitations from his friend, Joseph Barber Lightfoot, to preach at St Paul‘s Cathedral for fear that his tones would evaporate into the dome.7 Angels and pigeons might be edified but the congregation would be as deaf to his oratory as he, in later life, was to theirs.8 And yet this premature first-born son of a trade-rescued gentry family from was portrayed and acclaimed as a giant. His eyes and his ideas piercingly provoked the heart and will of a succession of young men at Cambridge and, for a church and a society desirous of an Ockham‘s razor view of the world, he disturbingly refused to yield to reductionism. As has written of him, 'Westcott's 'liberalism' is the claim of a liberty within the given structures of Bible and doctrine to decline closure.'9 Westcott‘s contributions to biblical scholarship in particular have resisted the blanketing dust of time. His efforts in linguistic, textual and historical criticism in many ways ensured that English biblical scholarship was hauled into the modern era, albeit kicking and screaming all the way. I suspect that in some quarters today the death rattles continue. With Fenton J.A. Hort, a quarter century of scholarship on Greek manuscripts of the and the genealogical method of arranging their various indications of the autograph text broke the hold of the —

4 Westcott House Archives (hereafter WHA), Book §121, accompanying letter, dated 29/10/1930 from Mrs Davidson to B.K. Cunningham (Principal of Westcott House). The biblical allusion is to Gen 6:4; cf also Ethel M. Sturges to the Principal of Westcott House 3/12/1941, WHA 2.63.12.3. 5 A.G.B. West, Memories of Brooke Foss Westcott, Cambridge, Heffer & Sons, 1936, p. 17. 6 So was the comment of the Harrow student, Randall Davidson (later to become Archbishop), when Westcott was a master at the school: Davidson to his father Feb 17th, 1867, quoted in Randall Davidson, quoted in G.K.A. Bell, Randall Davidson: Archbishop of Canterbury, London, Oxford University Press, 1952, 17. 7 Lightfoot to Westcott Jan 5th, 1877, Jan 8th, 1877, Episcopal Records, Durham Dean and Chapter Archives (hereafter ACER), 3, box 13, file 10.14, 15) 8 On Westcott‘s increasing deafness, see BF Westcott to Mary Westcott 8 September 1893, 23rd Sunday after Trinity, 1896, WHA Box 7, No 85; Westcott to Mary 17 May 1899, A. Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, London, Macmillan, 2 Vols, 1903, 2.269; ‗he became so very deaf‘: Robert Long to Bp Moule 31 August 1901, ACER GB- 0036-AUC. 9 R. Williams, Anglican Identities, London, Darton, Longman and Todd, 2004, p. 82; similarly, O. Chadwick, Westcott and the Universities, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1962, pp. 15, 30. 16 the edition underlying the translation. And, as wooden and liturgically unsatisfying as the rhythms of language may have become in the of 188110 — a production that Josh Marsh, uncharitably perhaps, described as 'the ultimate desacralisation of ‗bible English‘'11 —Westcott‘s critical involvement in its production demonstrates that the Bible, and for that matter, doctrine were as subject to his assertion of liberty and resistance to closure. Westcott, Hort and Lightfoot were for a time Professors of Divinity at Cambridge. They became known as the Cambridge Triumvirate. One mutual friend and mentor, Charles John Vaughan, when Master of the Temple, asked Westcott what was the difference between Lightfoot and Westcott himself. Westcott replied that Lightfoot liked to close off on a question, whereas he preferred to open it up further.12 One student who was studying in the 1890s at Auckland Castle for his Durham ordination, received the curt demonstration of this when he claimed to Bishop Westcott that a certain biblical passage could only have two possible answers, by which his evangelical sensibility probably meant a right one and a wrong one. The mitred reply was that were at least six. This openness with its consequent complexity, flexibility and refusal of final precise outcomes had its detractors. Arthur Benson, the son of one of Westcott‘s close friends, wrote of Westcott‘s thought as the 'art of bewildering oneself methodically'.13 The Anglo-Catholic conservative, H.P. Liddon is reputed to have commented, when London was buried under a dense fog that it was 'commonly attributed to Dr Westcott having opened his study window at Westminster'.14 Sometimes, contemporary scholarship uncritically reinscribes such assessments.15 However, the sweeping expanse and inspiring evocativeness of his public writings on socialism and social questions, combined with some insight into his own less publicised enactment of his ideas, are precisely what need to be recalled when we turn to the legacy and impact of Westcott on others in their colonial context.

Bishop John Edward Mercer and Westcott’s Christian Socialism John Mercer arrived in Hobart after effective ministry in industrial parishes in Durham and , to be the successor to Henry Montgomery.

10 On the Revised Version, see my ‗The Politics of Translation of the Revised Version: evidence from the newly discovered notebooks of Brooke Foss Westcott‘ Journal of Theological Studies, 58, 2, 2007, pp. 1-25. 11 J. Marsh, Word Crimes: Blasphemy, Culture and Literature in Nineteenth-Century England, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1998, 256. 12 F.K. Aglionby, The Life of Edward Henry Bickersteth DD: Bishop and Poet , London, Longmans, Green & Co, 1907, 42. 13 A. Benson, The Leaves of the Tree: Studies in Biography, London, Smith Elder & Co, 1911, p. 25. 14 G.W.E. Russell, Dr Liddon, London, A.R. Mowbray, 1905, p. 174; Lady G. Cecil, Life of Robert Marquis of Salisbury, London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1932, p. 212; cf H.S. Holland, Personal Studies, London, Wells Gardner, Darton & Co, 1905, pp. 132-33. 15 P.T. Phillips, A Kingdom on Earth: Anglo-American Social Christianity 1880-1940, University Park, Pennsylvania State University Press, 1996, pp. 14, 15; E.R. Norman, Church and Society in England 1770-1970: A Historical Study, Oxford, Clarendon, 1976, p. 180. Norman could yet claim elsewhere that Westcott ‗always spoke with great precision‘: The Victorian Christian Socialists, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1987, p. 180. 17

Within a year of his arrival in 1901 he had succeeded in alienating almost the entire cartel of establishment-minded leaders in the state. One can almost hear a tone of sympathy for these offended colonial civilisers from the church historian Geoffrey Stephens when he writes that Mercer‘s 'episcopate was blighted by ‗controversy‘ — particularly his fondness for ‗public questions‘.'16 Mercer gained a huge following, though not amongst Anglicans, for his addresses on the issues of capital and labour. He directed that the cathedral bastions hold a service of support for the launch of the fledgling Labour Party in 1903. He led the exposure of 'sweat-shop conditions' of women in the textile industry and frequented the haunts of working people: mines, factories and the wharves of Hobart. As the Modern Churchman later carved his obituary so quaintly, 'Without being a ‗court- chaplain to King Demo,‘ he won the confidence and respect of the Labour Unions.'17 The local Australian radical magazine, The New Age, caught the controversy of the time, if not added fuel to it. After pronouncing that, 'Not all the Anglican clergy in Australia are snobs. Some of them are Men', the writer then singled out Mercer, who had just announced his resignation, for particular approbation.18 The editorialist, fired by the egalitarian fervour of new federal beginnings, lamented that Mercer had been trapped in an island dominated by 'landlordism' — 'Tasmania is as British and backward as the stupidity of man can make it. Within this diocese, Dr Mercer suffered and laboured like a criminal, wasting his splendid mental energy on a community of stagnant-minded serfs, dominated and controlled by a couple of thousand ignorant, fearsomely Tory landlords.'19 The mainstream press, however, lead by the equally incendiary H.R. Nicholls, exposed their own commitments, labelling him 'the Socialist Bishop' and, joining forces with upstanding Anglicans, cheered with exemplary polite accolades his departure after thirteen turbulent years. As early as 1905, Mercer had publicly stated that he was 'honoured in linking myself with men like the late Bishop Westcott', in the course of a defence of his own address on Socialism. Mercer accented familiar Westcott tones: Christian, brotherhood, unity, common purpose.20 At a Workers‘ Political League gathering at Denison in 1911, Mercer confronted his absent protagonists on the question 'Is Socialism anti-Christian?' and argued that he was advocating nothing more than had been articulated by the late Bishop of Durham, Brooke Foss Westcott,21 long famous throughout the Empire and the United States not just for his scholarship but for his successful mediation in the Durham Miners‘ Strike of 1892,22 thereafter widely known as 'the

16 The Anglican Church in Tasmania: A Diocesan History to mark the Sesquicentenary: 1992, Hobart, Trustees of the Diocese, 1991, p. 140. 17 J.C. Hardwick, ‗In Memoriam: John Edward Mercer‘ Modern Churchman, 12, 1922, p. 98. 18 Grant Hervey was President of the Foreign Affairs Section of the Young Australia Movement. 19 ‗The ‘s Revolution‘, The New Age, 17 April 1913, p. 577 20 Letter to the Editor, The Mercury, 24 October 24 1905. 21 Daily Post, 10 April 1911. 22 The course of the prolonged strike was followed attentively in colonial newspapers: see The Argus (Melbourne) 2 April, 27 April, 1892, The Brisbane Courier 25 April, 6 June, 1892, The Mercury (Hobart) 25 April 25 1892, as but representative examples. Bishop 18

Miners‘ Bishop'. Mercer was a member of the Christian Social Union,23 of which Westcott had been its first president (1889-1901). No doubt he sought to rely on Westcott‘s revered reputation in making his appeal, just as he had pointed to the authority of the 1888 Lambeth resolution against social inequalities.24 When the Tasmanian historian Richard Davis assessed Mercer‘s Christian Socialism,25 he followed almost identical lines to the standard criticisms of Westcott‘s socialism. The problems with this brand of Christian Socialism were that there was a great imprecision in language, a gap between critical rhetoric and practical proposals, an immutability to the propertied class structure of society, a fundamental moderation that strove to occupy the middle ground between capital and labour, a belief that religious regeneration was the answer to conflicts arising from socio-economic injustice, an unresolved tension between individualism and socialism as also between moral and material idealism, an evolutionary progressivism in social harmony and an ongoing struggle to understand the nature of the state and of church‘s relationship to it, regardless of whether it was established or not. The commonality of the criticisms of both Mercer and Westcott prompts the sense of the debt one had to the other. In exploring further some of the understandings of Westcott we may then better understand what was driving Mercer. Westcott, after all, was the esteemed ideologue of the Christian Social Union and had provided two fundamental expositions of its principles as well as keynote addresses at its annual meetings.26 Westcott‘s first developed exposition of Christian socialism was delivered at the Church Congress at Hull in October, 1890 barely six months into his Durham episcopate. Lord Salisbury (then Prime Minister), whose resistance to Westcott‘s appointment to this fourth most important see in England had crumpled, revived his antagonism against further elevation of Westcott to York,27 because he had dared to raise the controversy of socialism, and given it episcopal authority.28 One might nowadays strain to find anything provocative in Westcott‘s address, but in some quarters at the time it sounded like a manifesto for radical insurgency.29 Modern assessments are less inclined to find revolution in Westcott's writings. Owen Chadwick accused Westcott of hiding 'vast conservatisms beneath revolutionary-sounding language'30 but Westcott held a fundamental

Westcott‘s involvement was reported, inter alia, in the Hobart Mercury 30 and 31 May 1892. 23 That is, in England, before the formation of the Australian branch in 1895. 24 The Clipper, 8 September, 1906. 25 ‗Christian Socialism in Tasmania, 1890-1920‘ Journal of Religious History, 7, 1972, pp. 57-62, 65-66. 26 See, especially, B.F. Westcott, H.S. Holland (ed), Christian Social Union Addresses, London, Macmillan, 1903. Some of these addresses are also to be found in Westcott‘s Christian Aspects of Life, London, Macmillan, 1897 and Lessons from Work, London, Macmillan, 1901. 27 To replace W.G. Magee who had died within a year of taking the archbishopric. 28 See B. Palmer, High & Mitred: Prime Ministers as Bishop Makers 1837-1977, London, SPCK, 1992, p. 120. 29 The conservative press were horrified: see J. Clayton, Bishop Westcott, London, Mowbray, 1906, pp. 164. As one example, see 2 October 1890. 30 Chadwick, Westcott and the University, p. 26. 19 ecological belief that all things were bound together and bore within them some intimation of eternity. 'Every human deed and word and thought has in it an eternal element' he repeated to the miners‘ lodges arrayed in in 1901,31 an event that may have inspired Mercer‘s service for the Labour Party.32 The effort to be made therefore was to find a way of phrasing things to give expression to this, so that as much as possible could be encompassed and as many as possible find a place in the resultant description.33 Equally, the resultant articulation could only be descriptive not prescriptive, which is why he argued strongly that the Christian Social Union only stand by principles rather than policies.34 Inevitably then, he rejected class consciousness as a heuristic tool of analysis and as a strategic method for tackling injustices. The past was not to be rejected but harnessed not for imitation but for analogies for the present (such as medieval theories of just price and usury which he applied especially to the responsibility of consumers).35 'We are familiar with orderly change', he declaimed.36 For him the sympathy due to revolution was not for a template but for the failure in the moral responsibility of leadership to act according to the trust that had been committed to them in regard to the whole of society.37 Westcott‘s ability to make socialism acceptable to a wider group of people from different backgrounds may have defused the potential for rigid confrontation,38 may even have reinvigorated the aspirations of lower classes for acceptance by, if not a place among, the socially established,39

31 An Address at the Annual Service for Miners, London: Macmillan, 1901, p. 6. The thought was identical to his attitude to university learning: see his On Some Points of the Religious Office of the Universities, London, Macmillan, 1873, p. 139. 32 These Miners‘ Services as part of their Gala Days began in 1897, much against the misgivings of the Dean, G.W. Kitchin, and became a regular feature on the Cathedral‘s calendar. 33 That he succeeded can be seen in the comment in The British Weekly 17 June 1887: ‗With every word almost of Canon Westcott‘s general propositions partisans of all schools will agree.‘ The writer nevertheless repeated, ‗The difficulty is in the application.‘ Others were less charitable, claiming that broad language was designed to get around difficulties rather than face them: see A. Besant, An Autobiography, London,T. Fisher Unwin, 1893, pp. 62-3. 34 ‗Preface‘ to H.S. Holland (ed.), Lombard Street in Lent: A Course of Sermons on Social Subjects, London, Elliot Stock, 1894, xii. 35 Holland, Lombard Street in Lent, p. 194. Geoffrey Best noted the decidedly Ruskin flavour to some of these emphases of Westcott: Bishop Westcott and the Miners, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1966, p. 25. 36 The Cooperative Ideal: Address at Cooperative Congress, London, Labour Association, 1894, pp. 9. 37 Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 1.101. 38 See generally, J.H. Porter, ‗Wage Bargaining under Conciliation Agreements, 1860- 1914‘ Economic History Review (2nd Ser) Vol. 23, no. 3, 1970, pp. 460-75; W.R. Garside, ‗Wage determination and the Miners‘ Lockout of 1892‘ in N. McCord (ed.), Essays in Tyneside Labour History, Poytechnic, 1977, pp. 135-146; E. Welbourne, The Miners‟ Unions of Northumberland and Durham, Cambridge, CUP, 1923, pp. 269-85. 39 J.M. Turner, Conflict and Reconciliation: Studies in Methodism and Ecumenism in England 1740-1982, London, Epworth, 1985, pp. 144-46; cf Best, Westcott and the Miners, pp. 13-14. 20 but it is testimony to his rhetorical and linguistic capacity.40 Davis suggests that the adoption by the fledgling Australian Labour Party of an egalitarian, cooperative approach to socialism, rather than a class-conflictual one, can track its lines to Mercer, and by implication back to Westcott.41 When assessing Westcott‘s pronouncements on socialism, critics can mistake literary analysis for historical reality.42 At the time Westcott was criticised, for example by Conrad Noel and the Guild of St Matthew,43 for his lack of specifics and his seemingly patchy grasp of economics and politics; modern critics have generally agreed with these criticisms.44 Certainly the danger in stretching language to its most general evocations in order to enlist the greatest number of adherents is that language is denuded of meaning — precisely what Westcott, especially in his biblical work, refused to allow: his language was pregnant with meaning not vacuous.45 Yet something of this criticism can stand when Sir William Harcourt, in 1889, could disturbingly quip, 'We are all socialists now.'46 However, we need to remember that Westcott was weaving his characteristic rhetoric (even 'characteristic' is a stock term in his appeal) in his speeches, concerned to stir a broad desire to do ‗something‘; but his earnest effort beyond the published speeches about the social fabric was to persuade and encourage specific address of specific issues. The 1892 Miners‘ Strike is a case in point. His success in mediating a compromise between mine owners and men after a strike that had run for four months and after owners were planning to grind down the men further is dismissed by Edward Norman as a fortuitous happenstance that does not qualify the accusation of a vacuum of practical suggestion or involvement.47 However, a detailed study of the historical record — of letters, journals, newspaper articles, notes on meetings, business records — shows that Westcott was earnestly involved in issues of mining for at least eighteen months before the 1892 drama and, indeed, had announced his intent in his enthronement

40 The success of Westcott‘s intellectual promotion of socialism might be measured by the concern expressed by the Reverend Lord William Cecil at the Pan-Anglican Congress in 1908, that he seemed to be the only speaker who did not believe in socialism! See Pan- Anglican Congress Official Proceedings vol 2: The Church and Human Society, London, SPCK, 1908, pp. 102. 41 R.P. Davis, Bishop John Edward Mercer , Occasional Paper 34, Hobart, University of Tasmania, 1982, p. 22. It meant that, at least according to Vladimir Lenin, the Australian Labour Party was nothing more than a ‗liberal-bourgeois party‘: G. Hanna (trans.) Lenin Collected Works, Moscow, Progress, 1977, pp. 216-17. 42 One notable exception is Geoffrey Best‘s analysis in Westcott and the Miners. 43 ‗It [the CSU] glories in its indefiniteness and seems to consider it a crime to come to any particular economic conclusion….‘ See C. Noel, Socialism in Church History, London, Frank Palmer, 1910, p. 257. 44 See, for example, Norman, Victorian Christian Socialists, p. 166. This is a misleading judgement as the footnotes to his speeches and his own diary notes of his reading indicate. 45 Westcott to Macmillan 9 December 1859, , Add Ms 55.092 f.73, Macmillan Correspondence. 46 Quoted by N.P. Backstrom, Christian Socialism and Cooperation in Victorian England: Edward Vansittart Neale and the Cooperative Movement, London, Croom Helm, 1974, p. 198. 47 Norman, Victorian Christian Socialists, p. 163. 21 sermon.48 He had sought to mediate between conflicting sides at an earlier dispute at Silksworth in 1891,49 but his offer had been dismissed by the coal-mine owners.50 He went on to initiate regular meetings between owners, politicians and unionists at Auckland Castle,51 partly to honour some of the terms of settlement of the 1892 strike, partly to maintain momentum in the redress of problems that were long-standing in the mining industry, such as housing for retired miners, cooperative insurance to offset injury and ill-health, the cultivation of societies for leisure activities, even the conversion of part of the reserves of Auckland Castle from the deer park of previous prince bishops to a retirement agistment for broken-down mine horses.52 He worked behind the scenes to facilitate the resolution of a mercantile dispute at Newcastle-on-Tyne in 1896,53 and engineers‘ strike. His was no 'chance involvement' as Norman had held. Rather it was a determined and informed behind-the-scenes effort not merely to broker resolutions but to afford the opportunity for conflicting sides to meet in dialogue, respect and even friendship.54 Westcott was a disciplined and inveterate letter-writer, as were many of the age, and he used the contacts of his position to advantage. It was, for example, extremely fortuitous for his desire to end the 1892 miners‘ strike and mine-owners intransigence that the Registrar of the Diocese, , was a business partner of the spokesman for the owners, Lindsay Wood,55 who was himself an agent for the Ecclesiastical Commissioners.56 One of the largest owners of coalmining land in was the Marquess of Bute, a former student of Westcott at Harrow, with whom Westcott maintained a regular correspondence.57 The problem in this approach (though Westcott would not see it as a

48 Durham Diocesan Gazette 4 (1890), 16. It became a theme: see The Times 18 June 1890; it was a major item for discussion amongst Rural Deans in 1891, Palace Green Special Collections, AUC 38 ‗Conference Reports‘. 49 This is particularly important as a counterbalance to Geoffrey Best‘s careful suggestion that Westcott‘s involvement in the 1892 strike was in effect, if not in motivation, to secure one of the main funding streams for local parishes and the Ecclesiastical Commission, namely royalties from mining on glebe lands: Best, Westcott and the Miners, p. 33. For a positive recognition of Westcott‘s ‗contextualisation‘ of his theology, see G. Patrick, The Miner‟s Bishop Brooke Foss Westcott, , Epworth, 2nd Ed, 2004, pp. 144-45; A.M. Ramsay, ‗Miners and Bishops (City of Durham Annual Lecture 1983‘, Durham Record Office, nd, Du 2/6). The Silksworth strike was about forced evictions from tenanted miners‘ houses and was a crucial prelude to the 1892 strike for both sides. 50 The Northern Echo, 13 March 1891. 51 See, for example, the detailed notes of one ‗Episcopal Social Conference‘ at Auckland Castle that drew together, among a number, Thomas Burt, Sir B.C. Browne and Earl Grey: Palace Green Special Collections, Grey Papers 264/1. 52 Holland, Personal Studies, p. 136. Westcott loathed the sport of hunting: see West, Memories, p. 17. 53 Westcott to 11, 28, 29 September1896 ( Library, Frederick Temple Papers, Vol 5, ff 177-78, pp. 181, 187-8. 54 Best‘s assessment is too critical of Westcott (Westcott and the Miners, pp. 27-28), even if it does show that some of Westcott‘s efforts at practical solutions were not successful — Westcott was hardly alone. The trade unionist and MP, Thomas Burt, gave a lengthy and detailed testimonial to Westcott that accented his grasp of facts and his practicality: Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 2.380-81. 55 See Durham Record Office, EP/CS 2/23. 56 Best, Westcott and the Miners, p. 20. 57 See, for example, Cambridge University Library, Add 8316 ff 16-45. 22 problem) was that it was grounded in the personal and reliant on highly contingent linkages, linkages that only he in his position and status could deploy. In this sense, the position of moral responsibility he felt in the office had also to be defended if it was to yield what he would see as a satisfactory outcome. John Mercer in Tasmania had none of these historic advantages, just as the conservative forces had been shaped quite differently in expectations and struggles in a brief period. Henley Henson, a later Bishop of Durham, who had little time for miners complained repeatedly of having to follow Westcott not only because he had generated the expectation that the Bishop of Durham would solve every subsequent dispute58 but also because it had provided 'the grand precedent for episcopal meddling in economic crises'.59 This had ultimately devalued the currency of episcopal pronouncements and too often succeeded merely in hardening government determinations.60 Westcott‘s socialism allowed that: 'While therefore we do not believe that the happiest physical environment can regenerate men, we do believe that physical misery tends to imbrute them, and that, even if they escape the degradation, it is contrary to the will of God.'61 But, because he held that his position and luxurious circumstances were held on trust, he was deeply offended at attacks upon the manifest wealth of bishops, 'enclosed by their own fat' as one critic termed it.62 In a letter to another former Harrow student, the conservative MP, Charles Dalrymple, he wrote, 'my heart is saddened day after day when I read a paragraph like this: 'Fancy a man saying that he is moved by the Holy Spirit when he accepts 4000£ a year and a palace.‘ And those who write so are (in their way) sincere. They believe that we are all hypocrites. Yet it is no less sad.'63 Even so, when Westcott died, he bequeathed to his children an estate of more than £50,000. Cardinal Manning, his Roman Catholic parallel in authority and rival on socialist matters left £100.64

58 H.H. Henson, Retrospect of an Unimportant Life, London, Oxford University Press, 1942, Vol 2.25-26, 101. 59 Henson, Retrospect of an Unimportant Life, 2.25. 60 Phillips, Kingdom on Earth, p. 242, fn36. Lord Stanley‘s complaint to Westcott about the Bishop of Hereford siding with the strikers in 1898 shows that even in Westcott‘s time, the politics had to be carefully handled: Lord Stanley to Bishop of Durham 31 December 1898, Cambridge University Library, Add 8316 f151. More often, however, the criticism of bishops‘ interference came from those on the underside of society: see K.S. Inglis, Churches and the Working Classes in Victorian England, London, Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1963, pp. 285-86. 61 ‗The Christian Law‘ in Christian Social Union Addresses, p. 26. 62 The Commonwealth November 1898 quoted in G.C. Binyon, The Christian Socialist Movement in England: An Introduction to the Study of its History, London, SPCK, 1931, p. 168; compare H. Handley, The Fatal Opulence of Bishops: An Essay on a Neglected Ingredient of Church Reform, London, Adam & Charles Black, 1901. Perhaps significant for an appreciation of the austere lifestyle he led, both writers exempted Westcott, from their sweeping censure. Even so, there is little doubt that Westcott saw clearly enough how he might come under such attack: see Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 2.130-31. 63 Westcott to Dalrymple 9/2/1895, National Library of Scotland, Dalrymple Letters MS 25553 f 128. 64 The Labour Tribune, 27 February 1892. 23

The Reverend Arthur George Bainbridge West and Westcott’s Imperialism A little work written by the Reverend Arthur West in 1936 is frequently accessed, albeit uncritically, by historians and biographers of Westcott. West claimed that he had read nothing of Westcott‘s works prior to going to Auckland Castle, the Bishop‘s residence, for his final training before ordination. He classed this circumstance as an advantage as it meant all his subsequent reading was filled with the experience of a man who had taught him and who exemplified his teaching.65 West joined a number of Durham clergy who made the journey to Australia as part of what was called 'foreign (or colonial) service',66 and maintained a regular correspondence with the one he claimed as mentor. He fulfilled this service as assistant , then at Unley, a leafy fashionable suburb of Adelaide even at the turn of the twentieth century67 and married the daughter of a British colonel,68 also on 'colonial service'. Annie and her father George Edwards were listed in the 1903 Blood Royal of Britain.69 This establishment tone is significant. West served in an even more British colony than Tasmania, because it could claim, as South Australians still rehearse, a free rather than convict foundation. Consequently, West‘s desire to mute the more socialist tendencies in Westcott‘s thought in favour of a more traditional moral concern about specific social problems merits analysis. In 1914, safely ensconced back in England at the medieval foundation of St ‘s in the East in the city of London,70 West rifled through what he considered to be his five star sermons of the previous two decades to produce a mercifully slim volume. There are two particular sermons that plumb the influence of Westcott though he is not named. The first is titled 'Christian Socialism' a sermon taking, as its text, the alleged image of early communism in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 4.32). Through a carefully manipulated argument, West manages to suggest that this first attempt at socialism was ill-conceived, an attempt to take the into areas where it was not applicable, upon 'unprepared ground'. The result was that the church in Jerusalem, having neglected its duties on earth by thinking overmuch of treasure in heaven, was plunged into penurious crisis and needed to be rescued by a collection taken up around the churches by St Paul.71 Whether or not West had in memory the collapse of many of the

65 West, Memories of Brooke Foss Westcott , p. 4. 66 West, Memories of Brooke Foss Westcott , p. 9. 67 See St Augustine‟s Unley 1870-1930: Diamond Jubilee Souvenir, Adelaide, St Augustine‘s, 1930; J. Blacket, City of Unley, a history of Unley and Goodwood , Unley, SA, 193?. 68 The marriage was effectively terminated at the wife‘s instigation in 1924 (Court for Divorce and Matrimonial Causes J 77/2111/6114). She had long been regarded as a ‗hindrance‘: CH Boutflower to AF Winngton-Ingram (Bp London) 1 October 1908, Lambeth Palace Library, Davidson Papers vol. 149 ff. 304-5. 69 M.H.M. Ruvigny et Raineval, The Blood Royal of Britain, London, T.C. & E.C. Jack, 1903, p. 463. 70 The church was destroyed in the Second World War; the remains are now part of a public garden. 71 A.G.B. West, The Gospel of Joy and Strength: Sermons Preached on Either Side of the Line, London, Pitman, 1914, pp. 11-12. 24 cooperative ventures in England in the last two decades of the nineteenth century, he effectively removed any thought of 'socialism' from the immediate time-frame. The experiment had the virtue of a good intention72 but it was misguided and mistimed. Westcott‘s evolutionary optimism that the evils of industrialisation were ready to be overcome by the greater interest of workers in all aspects of production was thus suspended, displaced by an accent on another aspect of Westcott‘s thought, that those who do hold property hold it in trust.73 In fact, as West handled the language, 'Nothing is so plain in the words and acts of the Lord as the duty of all men to hold what they have as a trust from God: as talents which they are bound to use for the benefit of their fellow-men'.74 The manifold varieties of nineteenth century socialism that Westcott acknowledged, even warmed to, as all bearing some mark of eternity, became in West‘s tidy antithesis reduced to Christian socialism versus lower socialism. In his discourse, socialism is now robbed of its meaning; for him good socialism is characterized by those who having received talents, as he called them, exercised the philanthropy of regular giving for the benefit of others, and secondly, by 'showing the nobility of a simple way of living.'75 Much as he claimed we could not return to medieval practice, it is difficult to see how such recommendations were not an effort to restore ancient privilege and its offset, paternalism. By contrast, lower socialism was depicted as that which was grasping, destructive and selfish. Its voice, in West‘s dramatization, said, 'Who are you that you should be born to affluence and comfort, while I must toil and sweat for my daily bread? What is this accident of birth which has given you every means of happiness, and me every source of misery? What you have is the dishonest thievings of power and greed from helpless ignorance and unchampioned innocence!'76 This socialism, ruled West, was of the devil. This second sermon, annotated as delivered at New College, Oxford where West had been educated, explicitly identified 'the young Commonwealth under the Southern Cross'.77 He uses Australia as the heuristic anchor to raise significant issues about Empire by diverting attention to and extracting sympathy for a young nation. Then follows a homiletic defence of, inter alia, the White Australia Policy. Whereas Mercer in Tasmania was roundly criticized by local Labour associations as desiring a 'piebald Australia',78 whereas in India, other Westcott disciples, Samuel Allnutt and Charles Freer Andrews, had successfully lobbied the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, to install the Indian, Susil K. Rudra as the replacement Principal of St Stephen‘s Hall, Delhi in 1907,79 West was content to affront the pulpit with these remarks:

72 West, The Gospel of Joy and Strength, p. 19. 73 See, for example, Westcott, ‗Labour Co-Partnership‘: The Middlesborough Cooperative Congress Exhibition, Saturday May 25th 1901‘, London, Labour Association, 1901, p. 4. 74 Westcott, ‗Labour Co-Partnership‘, p. 12. 75 Westcott, ‗Labour Co-Partnership‘, p. 17. 76 Westcott, ‗Labour Co-Partnership‘, p. 15. 77 Westcott, ‗Labour Co-Partnership‘, p. 97. 78 The Clipper, 13 Dec 1902. 79 Andrews specifically drew on the warrant of Westcott and Hort; see D. O‘Connor, Gospel, Raj and Swaraj: The Missionary Years of C.F. Andrews, 1904-1914 , Frankfurt, Peter Lang, 1990, pp. 170-72. Andrews was already beginning to argue that there was ‗no 25

In what sense are Negroes and Bushmen the equals of European Whites or Asiatic Japanese? They may have lower mental calibre and spiritual sense, entirely different social ideals and needs, the instincts of slaves and the untamed appetites of brutes. It has been, for perhaps a century, the accepted fiction that, as they are all equal before the law and before God, they are in all respects equal. And it will not pass. The theory is proved false in actual working. They do not render the same or equal services, but entirely various and unequal services to mankind …80

The subtle linguistic shift that West engineered to justify this comment was to turn the one man into one body, and nominate the limbs as races, with Europeans, predictably, the practical brain of the whole. Furthermore, that brain had to protect its integrity of race if it were to fulfil its calling to be the brain. The Incarnation, he argued, required that such men and women produce the highest level of development … and that, for West, meant maintaining racial purity. His hymnic peroration distilled his meaning:

'Tis joy to know and strength to feel, 'Tis blood that rules and not bare steel… I count it pride That here for heathen eyes to see The Lessons of my mother's knee. Are still my guide.81

This confinement of the accents of the Incarnation was repeated in West‘s formal memorial to Westcott published in 1936. After a glad-bag of anecdotes, nostalgic reminiscences and a manifest layering of special pleadings, West concludes with a parade of Westcott‘s imperial loyalty. For him, the finale of the greatness of the man was that 'he was a convinced Imperialist and passionately devoted to the Crown,' this one whom 'Queen and Lord Salisbury had hesitated to think of as a Bishop on the ground of supposed socialistic tendencies!'82 It can be argued that Westcott would have distanced himself from the reductionism, misdirection and polarisation in West‘s argument. West benefited from a demonstrable tie to Westcott and the inability of the master to reply. Other protégés of similar advantage heard and applied Westcott differently. Westcott had, in 1886, early in his canonry at , argued forcefully that the Incarnation tied together men of all races83 (and it was men — only once in my reading have I come across a distinct

graver moral danger [that] ever threatened the Christian brotherhood principle‘ than racism: C.F. Andrews, What I Owe to Christ, London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1932, p. 263. 80 West, Gospel of Joy and Strength, p. 104. 81 West, Gospel of Joy and Strength, p. 106. 82 West, Memories, p. 43. 83 Westcott, Social Aspects of Christianity, London, Macmillan, 2nd Ed. 1888, pp. 8-9. The published text does not include the word ‗race‘ as excluded by brotherhood, mentioning only ‗genealogy‘. However, Charles Dalrymple‘s notes on the sermon, orally delivered, recorded ‗genealogy, race and time‘: The Newhailes Papers, National Library of Scotland, Ms 25631, f.33. That this was Westcott‘s familiar accent is seen elsewhere in the same series: Social Aspects, 52-53, cf ‗Associate Missions and Family Life‘ in G.A. Spottiswoode (ed.), The Official Report of the Missionary Conference of the , London, SPCK, 1894, pp. 345-48. 26 lexical identification of 'sisters' in this communality).84 In 1889, Westcott had chaired a meeting of protest at the increase of armaments in Europe and written to The Guardian newspaper announcing the formation of a Christian Union for the Promotion of Simultaneous Disarmament.85 The policy of disarmament, he argued, was a service to the brotherhood of nations, one in which Christians were responsible to be involved.86 Late in 1891, he delivered a foreword to a work by a member of the Swedish parliament that promoted a range of measures for world peace. Westcott endorsed such practical possibilities as a sign of the movement of God‘s Holy Spirit. 'Through many sorrows and many disappointments,' he wrote, 'we are learning that the fact of the Incarnation assures to us the unity of men and classes and nations … that unity for which we were created.'87 Again, in 1897 Westcott is writing with grave concern to the leader of the Church Lads Brigade about the cultivation of a 'military warlike spirit' in the organization.88 He expresses a similar reserve at the militaristic symbolism in the Jubilee celebrations for Queen Victoria.89 Yet the language of Empire is never far from Westcott‘s lips.90 Initially this was simply part of the pervasive popular framework of discourse of the time. The key concern was both to imitate and supersede the empires of Greece and Rome. Empire became the third in a tiered illustration of the harmonious hierarchy of the body, built upon the family and the nation. Westcott drew lessons from the faults of Rome91 to subtly undergird his sense and the triumph of the Empire of the church over the Empire of Rome was designed, according to his understanding of the leading of Providence, to overcome these faults and provide a model of Empire that Rome and Greece only fumbled after. For him, the British Empire with an Established Church providing the conscientization of its actions was potentially the best form of polity that could be Christianly

84 ‗The Christian Social Union Dec 3rd, 1894 Cambridge‘ in Christian Social Union Addresses, p. 16; but cf ‗Church-woman‘, Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 2.251. 85 The letter was reprinted by the organization under the title of ‗Armed Europe‘ in April of 1889. Paul Laity records Westcott as having formed the ‗Christian Union for Promoting International Concord‘ and that the group had a publication, Messiah‟s Kingdom, but nothing more: The British Peace Movement 1870-1914, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2001, p. 120. The Union, like the Christian Social Union relied heavily on short publications for the dissemination of its ideas. 86 ‗Armed Europe‘, 8. 87 K.P. Arnoldson, Pax Mundi: A Concise Account of the Progress of the Movement for Peace by Means of Arbitration, Neutralisation, International Law and Disarmament, London, Swan Sonnenschein & Co, 1892, xvi; similarly, his sermon ‗International Concord‘, Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 2.267-68. 88 Chelmsford to Westcott 9 Feb 1897, Cambridge University Library, Add 8316 f 47. 89 ‗Lessons of the Queen‘s Jubilee‘, reprinted in Lessons from Work, 413; see also Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 2.245. 90 Note however that Westcott seems to reflect the rise of imperial language in the Victorian period. His will, dated June 13, 1901, repeats a prayer he wrote in 1860 where his wish for his children was that they be ‗faithful members of His Church and true servants of the Commonwealth‘ (my emphasis): PGSC AUC 1.45 ‗Newspaper Cuttings‘. This cannot be explored here. 91 For one example, see the telling and hermeneutically allusive description of Caracalla‘s avaricious distortion of the hierarchy of citizenship in Brooke Foss Westcott, The Two Empires, London, Macmillan, 1909, pp. 145-46. 27 imagined. At the same time it afforded the necessary and inevitable support for the fulfilment of the history of the church, that is, 'nothing less than the History of the Risen Christ conquering the world through the body in which He lives.'92 Westcott believed in the power for good that the Empire gave, just as he believed in the power for good that the Empire could give. In 1884, he preached at the consecration of Alfred Barry as bishop of Sydney: 'If we say that in the providence of God England has been appointed to be the mother of nations, it is with the feeling of overwhelming responsibility and not of indolent pride.'93Accordingly, he was appalled when offences against the Empire‘s moral calling surfaced, such as the government‘s self-interested involvement in the opium trade with its culpable impact in Burma and India.94 Lord Cross received a number of insistent letters95 about those whom, privately, he called 'pariahs'.96 And he regarded 'the record of the first settlement in ' as 'the darkest page in English history.'97 The difficulty for Westcott always was that such things were interpreted as a failure in an unremitting vocation, a failure that required repentance and the ordained opportunity to put it right. It had governed the choice of Delhi as the site for the Cambridge Mission,98 a choice directly dictated by the memory of what England repeatedly called the Delhi Mutiny99 but which is known in parts of India as the first Indian War of Liberation. It required, as a 'reparation', sending the best England had to offer: 'This is our first Imperial duty'.100 And there are occasional traces that Britain, as British people, must take responsibility for its leadership without delegating that responsibility to foreigners.101

92 Westcott, The Two Empires, vii. 93 „Faithful is He that Calleth‟: A Sermon Preached in Westminster Abbey on the Festival of the Circumcision 1884 , London, Macmillan, 1884, p. 4. 94 See The Northern Echo 17 March 1891, 12 January 1892, for example. 95 Westcott to Lord Cross 13 April 1891, 1 February 1892, 4 June, 10 June 1892, 14 February 1893, British Library, Add. Ms. 51.278 f. 195; 279 ff. 4-6b, 21, 30, 117). 96 B.F. Westcott to A. Westcott, 23 July 1891, Westcott Family Archives, Book Files #1. 97 Lessons from Work, p. 379. 98 J.B. Lightfoot, The Father of Missionaries: A Sermon preached on St Andrew‟s Day 1876, Cambridge, Clay, 1877, pp. 18-19 (private printing). Lightfoot‘s words were repeated by Westcott in his preface to a reprint of his own address at Westminster Abbey in 1882: The Cambridge Mission and Higher Education at Delhi, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1892 [repr]), p. 5. The connection was recognised by S.C. Carpenter, Church and People, 1789-1889: A History of the Church of England from William Wilberforce to „Lux Mundi‟, London, SPCK, 1933, p. 456. The call to ‗do better‘ had been sounded in The Colonial Church Chronicle and Missionary Journal, 1857, p. 404. 99 See, for example, C. Ransome, Our Colonies and India: How we got them and why we keep them, London, Cassell, 3rd ed. 1887, pp. 75-77. The reference to the Mutiny was recalled repeatedly during the Boer War, including by churchmen: see, for example, P.H. Hunter, A Sermon on the War, preached at St Andrew‟s Parish Church, on Sunday the 17th December 1899, Edinburgh, Andrew Elliot, 1899, p. 12. 100 Lessons from Work, pp. 378-79. 101 See Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott , 2.277-78 and note the lesson from Roman history he drew that ‗the introduction of this foreign Eastern element [the Syrian connections of the Severan dynasty] … marks more clearly, perhaps, than anything else the failure of the original idea of the Empire‘, The Two Empires, p. 144. Some caution is needed in this latter reference however, as Arthur Westcott exercised considerable editorial initiative in this posthumous work. 28

However, Westcott also insisted on the evolution of society, within nation and empire, and the move to self-determination was itself a laudatory outcome of empire, indeed a confirmation that it had worked honourably.102 Westcott‘s musings on the British Empire and on international arbitration were forged on the anvil of universal brotherhood. Both were, for him, immanent unfolding witnesses to the truth of the Incarnation. However, at the very end of his life, Westcott felt himself forced to make a choice between these two key expressions. The Boer War found him resiling from the priority of the Incarnation to the priority of Providence. The language of a sacred delegated trust, which had always provided a buttress to his notion of the moral responsibility of privilege to work with and for the poor as an expression of universal brotherhood, was now turned to the defence of privilege against brotherhood. 'The duty of fulfilling a trust is not a matter for arbitration,' he wrote, 'and, if need be, must be preferred to the maintenance of peace.'103 His sermon in January 1900 on the 'Obligations of Empire' sent shock waves through the ranks of Christian Socialists, even if it was met with cheers through the ranks of the troops and their supporters who gathered for a blessing as troops departed and returned.104 The tensions were close to home as well. On one hand, a grandson had enlisted and was already deployed, eagerly and supportively watched by family members.105 On the other, his own Dean, G.W. Kitchin, two weeks later, in the same pulpit, preached a sermon that became a major tract of the South Africa Conciliation Committee, in which he compared the Boers to David and England to Goliath and reminded his hearers of England‘s previous position as a little state, 'an offence in the nose of the Imperialism' of 330 years before.106 Westcott never withdrew from his position107 and in fact wrote warmly to Arthur West in praise of the 'response of the colonies to the call of the Motherland'108 - a significant adjustment of the language of brotherhood - it is clear that, privately, he felt that his understanding of empire was inadequate. Nevertheless, when Westcott preached on 'Empire' later in the year - not in Durham this time, but closer to the centre of

102 He expressed a real enthusiasm for the Church in Japan, marked by its own prayer-book, native bishops and self-government: ‗Introduction‘ to E. Bickersteth, Our Heritage in the Church, London,Sampson Low, Marston and Co, 1898, ix. 103 The Obligations of Empire, London, Macmillan, 1900, iv. 104 Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 2.287-88, 344. 105 Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 2.314. Henry Westcott, the bishop‘s third son and his chaplain was particularly interested in the progress of the war — it entered a number of times into his diary (WFA Henry Westcott Diary 1900, Feb 27th, 28th, Mar 1st May 29th etc). The eldest son even wrote to The Times on 16 January 1900, resounding that ‗there is but one task for all patriotic Britons — to back up the Government…‘ 106 Overcome Evil with Good: A Sermon Preached in Durham Cathedral on Sunday January 21st 1900 , Durham, Thomas Caldcleugh, 1901, p. 8. The conciliation movement was named ‗a wolf masquerading in sheep‘s clothing‘ by the South African Review: E.F. Knight, South Africa After the War: A Narrative of Recent Travel, London, Longmans, Green & Co, 1903, p. 9. 107 His address to the Church Congress at Newcastle-on-Tyne in September of that year was given to ‗Our Attitude towards War‘: Lessons from Work, 357ff. 108 West, Memories, 42. He used the opportunity of a book preface to A Book of Comfort to remind readers of ‗our countrymen in South Africa‘: V. Welby, A Book of Comfort: Being Selections from the Psalms, Prayer Book Version, London, Duckworth, 1900, vii-viii. 29 influence in London - he had clearly sought out interlocutors for the refinement of his ideas.109 The reference to the Boers was brief and already anticipating the necessary victory that would intensify the 'white man‘s burden' of imparting 'the ennobling privileges of the true freedom which is born of the truth.'110 Westcott saw the British Empire as the ultimate expression thus far in history of a preparation for the unity of all in the Kingdom of Christ. This conferred a massive and costly vocation even as that vocation was to be protected vigorously. This vocation required constant revival and refinement in its vision, not of the reproduction of 'an image of England' but 'to make fertile in new results'.111

Bishop George Halford and Westcott’s Brotherhoods. The propagation of Westcott‘s ideas in Australia in no small measure follows the succession of some thirty priests sent out from the .112 They went, not merely filled with the expansive vision of empire and social brotherhood, but charged with some sort of hopeful vision that Australia would become a Christian witness and springboard to Asia.113 Henley Henson would later complain that both Lightfoot and Westcott had drained Durham of its talent and finances by releasing its promising young men overseas backed by locally-raised funds.114 Westcott simply saw this as part of the moral obligation of Empire to the colonies and the church to its mission and gladly promoted these causes among the young men who came to Durham seeking ordination,115 and in the parishes.116 His closest friend and predecessor in the see had given a particular form to the training of aspirants by establishing a St Peter‘s Brotherhood, a network of training and support that was based at Auckland Castle. Young men were prepared for ordination, living in at Auckland Castle, receiving regular lessons and being

109 The sermon was preached on November 15th, 1900 at All Saints‘, Tufnell Park in London: see Lessons from Work, 369ff. Westcott explicitly cites J.R. Seeley, The Expansion of England, London, Macmillan, 1883; G.H. Gidding, Democracy and Empire: with studies of their psychological, economic and moral foundations, London, Macmillan, 1900; C.L. Tupper, Our Indian Protectorate: An Introduction to the Study of the Relations Between the British Government and Its Indian Feudatories, London, Longmans, Green & Co, 1893; G. Mazzini, Essays: Selected from the Writings, Literary, Political and Religious, London, Walter Scott, nd. The essay was liberally spiced with quotations from the recently deceased Alfred Lord Tennyson (‗To the Queen‘ and ‗To J.S.‘) and (‗The Grammarian‘s Funeral‘). 110 Lessons from Work, pp. 376, 380 111 Lessons from Work, p. 377. 112 They fed information on the colony back to Westcott, for example experiments in cooperatives: see C.H. Boutflower, The Adoring Student: A recollection of Brooke Foss Westcott, being an address given by the Rt. Rev. Cecil H. Boutflower ... in the Chapel of Sidney Sussex ... the Westcott House reunion, on July 18, 1923, London, Heffer, 1924, p. 7. 113 West, Memories, p. 9. The rhetoric however could readily substitute India: Westcott, On Some Points in the Religious Office of the Universities, London, Macmillan, 1873, p. 42. 114 Henson, Retrospect, 2.393. 115 West, Memories, p. 9. He had already done the same for the Delhi Brotherhood, claiming ‗We want the best men that Cambridge can give…‘. See S. Bickersteth, Life and Letters of Edward Bickersteth: Bishop of South Tokyo, London, Sampson, Low, Marston & Co, 1899, p. 47. 116 Durham Diocesan Fund leaflet 7th May, 1895, Durham Diocesan Gazette 11, February 1897, Bishop‘s letter to clergy. 30 sent out to parishes for internships under the careful eye of their own chaplains. The Brotherhood maintained well-rehearsed alumni connections that culminated each year with a gathering for all those in England back at the Bishop‘s residence on June 29. Henley Henson‘s caustic tongue accused Lightfoot of never having grown out of his undergraduate reading-party phase, where groups of young men would maraud their way through wild landscapes with a tutor and a battery of classical texts.117 The success of the model for support and training encouraged Lightfoot and Westcott to promote such groups, with the name of brotherhood in other places: 'brotherhoods of men … will be enabled to keep fresh their own faith by sympathetic fellowship [and] will touch those among whom they work by the force of social devotion.'118 The Cambridge Mission to Delhi was generally titled the Delhi Brotherhood. It was recognised that the demands of missionary life could be suitably addressed by grouping eager manly young men together, as a means of overcoming loneliness and honing a range of skills in a mutually sharpening exchange. But it was also intended that such brotherhoods would be a microcosmic model and an attractive invitation for the wider brotherhood of humanity. 'Such unions,' Westcott had said, 'are a discipline for a larger fellowship.'119 In Australia, the former intention was certainly fulfilled, at least for a time, in many states; the second has probably remained, at least in its ecclesial structural form, a future hope. Westcott‘s recommendation for the formation of a Brotherhood as the means of dealing with the sparsely-populated and poorly resourced outback areas of Australia accompanied George Halford‘s personal commissioning for service in Australia. He wrote to Halford upon news that a house for the prospective brothers had been found:

I think that I can foresee your great difficulties and your trials but I feel sure that the great venture is worth making and must bring glad fruit. We can afford to wait …Your old Parish will support you and be strengthened in the effort. In due time they will find as we shall find that your labours are fruitful at home.120

In a sense, Westcott welcomed Halford as well. The Australian Bush Leaves, the publication of the 'Missionary Diocese of Rockhampton' carried as its banner motto, attributed to Westcott, 'With bowed heads and open hearts may we offer ourselves. We can do no more, and we dare do no less'.121 Although Halford was ill-at-ease with the life in semi-arid inland Queensland, the brotherhood initially flourished even when he returned to the greener coastal rim of the state, and, like the Delhi Brotherhood, eventually transformed into a more catholic-style religious community. The

117 H.H. Henson, Bishoprick Papers, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1946, pp. 135-39. 118 Lessons from Work, p. 379. 119 ‗Socialism‘, p. 196. 120 Westcott to Halford, 26 July 1899, Diocese of Rockhampton archives, not numbered. Westcott also wrote a prayer for the brotherhood; see Westcott, The Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, 2.439. 121 The quarterly was initially published by S.P.G. in England for distribution at home as well as in Queensland. It began in June 1897 and continued till 1943. 31 microcosm of brotherhood thus survived but the hope that it would become a stimulant to a larger brotherhood of mutually supportive and ministering people was less obvious.122 The reliance on hardy, skilled ministering men, supported from afar, reinscribed the dependency model of paternalistic church life, a life which floundered once the brotherhoods were no longer rejuvenated.123 Halford however finally took the socialist commitment of Westcott to the level that Westcott himself avoided. Having served for eleven years as Bishop of Rockhampton, he decided that the position, pomp and financial accoutrements of a bishop were a hindrance to people in their receptiveness to the gospel. In spite of heated disagreement from his Metropolitan, St Clair Donaldson, he resigned his see and took a vow of poverty. Significantly perhaps, it was another saying of Westcott that distilled his reasons, 'Sacrifice alone is fruitful'.124

Conclusion Three different disciples of Westcott yielded three quite different appropriations of his thought in Australia. Not only is there a sense that the subtleties and expansiveness of Westcott‘s ideas were sometimes hardened into less flexible, less innovative rationales, there is also an uneasy realisation that the disciples of the master do end up exposing the limits if not the limitations of the master‘s teaching, either by making leaps that the master would have refused or by exaggerating a minor but nevertheless extant trace in his thought. Westcott was certainly a giant of nineteenth century scholarship. The parallel acclaim of the Regius Professor-cum-Bishop as a prophet125 needs to be tempered by the blurrings of church theology and social ideology which the benefit of hindsight now reveals. However, the breadth of his interest, his willingness as a churchman to enter unafraid into the debates of his day with a confidence that his Christian perspective could make a contribution just as it could be refined and sharpened by what it encountered, these remain a lasting legacy even when the Church no longer can presume upon automatic inclusion in wider social, economic and political platforms. The Australian context for his influence has been exposed a little in this paper; if nothing else, it demonstrates how that context and the people who were part of it, drove Westcott‘s expansive vision in both radical and conservative directions.

122 Westcott certainly hoped that ‗brotherhood‘ would gain a ‗practical sense‘ in congregations; this was one of his intended diocesan discussions in 1900: Palace Green Special Collections, AUC 38 ‗Conference Reports‘. 123 A similar diagnosis of the ‗disease … that everything must be done for them‘ was felt also in India by some of the Delhi Brotherhood: letter of S.S. Allnutt, 1900, quoted in C.H. Martin, Allnutt of Delhi: A Memoir, London, SPCK, 1922, p. 97. 124 ‗Bishop Halford‘ The Bush Brother, 31 December 1948, 165. The saying is the foundation of Westcott‘s The Victory of the Cross: Sermons preached during Holy Week 1888 in Hereford Cathedral, London, Macmillan, 1888, pp. 25, 26, 28, 33, 39 etc. 125 Such as by Cecil Boutflower in LL 2.362; Randall Davidson, quoted in Bell, Randall Davidson, p. 16; Edward Talbot to Lord Hugh Cecil 16 March 1925, quoted in G. Stevenson, Edward Stuart Talbot, 1844-1934, London, SPCK, 1936, p. 342; Herbert Ryle to Davidson, 6 August 1901, Lambeth Palace Library, Archbishop Davidson Papers, 71.52- 53); J.E.C. Welldon to Arthur Westcott, 27 October 1920, Westcott House Archives, 2.67.3.2 32

The Devil gets into the Belfry under the parson‘s skirts: vox populi and Early Modern Religion

Gillian Colclough University of Southern Queensland

Popular wisdom in the form of proverbs and adages is a feature of most societies. In European and American contexts, proverbs have been both respected and ridiculed as vox populi, the „voice of the people‟. However, from about the fifteenth to mid-eighteenth centuries, proverbs were viewed and employed at all social levels as containing simple truths because they emanated from the unspoiled peasantry. Consequently, as an oral cultural form transmitted upwards through society, proverbs can show socio-political or religious ideas and developments at many levels of everyday life, often cynically, sometimes with anger, and generally without the risk of litigation. Using Maurice Palmer Tilley‟s collection of sixteenth and seventeenth century English proverbs,this paper examines attitudes to the Church of England, the Catholic Church and the clergy. Bearing in mind the historiographical problems of potentially abstract oral sources recorded and often edited by external elites, the paper argues nonetheless that proverbs provide valuable insights into popular opinion, in this case, in the challenges and changes of Early Modern Christianity.

The devil was sick, the devil a monk would be; the devil was well, the devil a monk was he. Anon

A nation's proverbs are as precious as its ballads, as useful, and perhaps more instructive. Quarterly Review, July, 1868

Patience, some say, is a virtue. To John Foxe the Elizabethan martyrologist, every trial had an end-point; hence, ‗His saying was that, although the day was neuer so long, yet at last it ringeth to euensong.‘1 This, proverb collector Kelly noted, was ‗spoken when Men now in Power oppress us, signifying that there may be a Turn.‘2 No matter how often (or whether) Early Modern men (and women) in power oppressed their subjects, proverbs provided an important means of criticism for the disempowered. They could be cited, orally and in print, in clear responses to social and political change, yet rarely led to legal action – and this, as Adam Fox has shown, at a time when charges of slander and libel had people from all walks and levels of life suing and counter-suing on a daily basis.3 Many proverbs are, to speak

1 John Foxe, SR Cattley (ed), Acts and Monuments, XI, VII, 1563, 1583 edn., p. 346 in Morris Palmer Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs in England in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries: a collection of the proverbs found in English literature and the dictionaries of the period, Press, Ann Arbor, 1966, p. 141. 2 James Kelly, A Complete Collection of Scottish Proverbs, 1721, 337 in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p.142 3 Fox shows regular prosecutions for slander and libel, for example, in remarks uttered in public, and for slanderous accusations within ballads recited or sung across England. Age, gender and socio-economic status made no difference: offended parties in England‘s 33 proverbially, tongue-in-cheek: proverbs are used by most cultures in the same way.4 Proverbs were old long before some appeared in the Old Testament book of Proverbs: they are recorded as early as the Fifth Dynasty in Egypt, and can be safely assumed to have circulated orally for much longer.5 In pre-industrial Europe, as Obelkevich notes, they were most used by peasants.6 By the sixteenth century, however, proverbs were used at all levels of European society: having moved upward from the oral culture and its ‗face-to- face social relations‘, proverbial wisdom had become a useful medium for the transmission of ideas. 7 The ways in which proverbs were used to emphasise or justify a point, or make sense of a situation, appear often in Tilley‘s collection of proverbs of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Unsurprisingly for such a span of time, many of Tilley‘s proverbs provide insights into ideas about the Catholic Church and Church of England and their clergy. Some that mention God, the Devil, the church, priests or religion generally have been selected for this article. While it is in their application that proverbs are most useful to a historian, there is also the potential problem that they can be selectively applied to suit personal philosophy. While bias can help us to situate the proverb user socially, religiously and politically, the fact that their contextual use comes to us mostly from a literate and privileged class excludes the greater populace from most historiographical citations of their use. Despite advances in our attitudes to and respect for oral history and significant research into proverbs in the past few years, Eurocentric evidence-based, chronological social history has little room for the vagueness implicit in this form of popular culture. We might argue that some proverbs have valence because of their international use: a Spanish proverb in 1659, for example, tells the same story as Howell‘s 1660 version. Hence, ‗that which Christ has not the exchequer carries‘ appears in Howell as ‗The Court and the clergy suck the greatest part of the fat, whence grew the Proverb, What the Cheque takes not, the church takes‘. 8 ‗Whence grew the Proverb‘ implies that the proverb had popular currency; moreover, it had meaning across territorial borders.

litigious society went to court and demanded redress. Ballads might include proverbs, and one defendant used a proverb to explain his actions but singularly, proverb users were not prosecuted. Adam Fox, Oral and literate culture in England 1500-1700, Oxford, OUP, 2000, pp. 137-140, 307-309 4 Mieder argues that there ‗are over 700 ―universal‖ proverb types.‘ For more remarks on proverbs across cultures and nations, see Wolfgang Mieder, Proverbs: a handbook, Westport, Greenport Press, 2004, 22-25 5 Mieder, Proverbs: a handbook, pp. 144-146. Other resources include Isaac Meyer, Oldest Books in the World: An account of the Religion, Wisdom, Philosophy, Ethics, Psychology, Manners, Proverbs, Sayings, Refinement etc. of the Ancient Egyptians, 1995, 23-24. See also Claus Westermann, Roots of Wisdom: The Oldest Proverbs of Israel and Other Peoples, Louisville, Westminster John Knox, 1995; W. G. Lambert, ‗Celibacy in the World's Oldest Proverbs‘, Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, No. 169 (Feb., 1963), pp. 63-64 6 James Obelkevich, ‗Proverbs and social history‘, in Peter Burke, Roy Porter, (eds), The Social History of Language, Cambridge, CUP, 1987, p.45 7 Obelkevich, ‗Proverbs and social history‘, p.45 8 James Howell, The Parley of Beasts II, 1660, p. 18, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 100 34

Historians customarily seek evidence of specific and contextual use that can be firmly historicised. In relation to oral traditions, James Obelkevich argues that ‗[t]o listen for the voice behind the text, to conjure orality out of literacy‘ is one of the historian‘s main tasks, but not an easy one.9 Vox populi, the voice of the people, can be heard in many ways; among these (‗greetings, riddles, curses, jokes [and] tales‘), proverbs are particularly useful in ‗giving us what was said by many people on countless occasions in everyday life.‘ 10 Obelkevich adds that proverbs are worthy subjects of study for historians: they are ‗strategies for situations; but they are strategies with authority, formulating some part of a society‘s common sense, its values and way of doing things.‘11 Prominent in Early Modern literature and other records, proverbs provided evidence of the educated person‘s vocabulary and wisdom, while at the common and often illiterate level, they informed, cautioned and offered a library of knowledge resources. At all levels, proverbs also provided the means for softly- delivered subversion, in the sense that observations and ideas could be transmitted swiftly and with meaning from person to person and one community to another. The study of proverbs used in a particular place and context is consequently informative. Bacon‘s argument, made to James I, endures: the proverb, like other pieces of historical evidence, is an artifact that allows us to ‗save and recover somewhat from the deluge of time‘ and merits recognition of its ability as (according to Bacon) an ‗antiquity‘ or ‗remnant of history‘ that speaks for the unrecorded and unheard.12 Frequently used proverbs were recorded and explained by several seventeenth and eighteenth century proverb collectors. In the latter case, the collectors acted because they perceived a shift from proverbs being a sign of wisdom to signifying coarseness and vulgarity; by the nineteenth century, as part of an elite separation from popular culture, they were rarely used in ‗good‘ company. Yet, they persist in contemporary society: like songs, cartoons, car stickers and graffiti, proverbs enable the transmission of ideas. Sometimes social changes cause a shift in the targets or impact of the messages but proverbs are still used to defend, to justify or to explain events or to demonstrate religious, political or social affiliations, and (like other media), can still express socio-political resistance, just as they did in the Early Modern period, at a time of marked and contested religiosity and accelerated political change. With those in power regularly subject to proverbial criticism, it is no surprise that the devil, the antithesis of goodness, was a popular proverbial figure in references to religious or social authority, hence: ‗the Devil and the dean begin with a letter; when the devil has the dean, the kirk will be better‘ was recorded in 1641.13 ‗The devil,‘ said country parson (and supporter of the Established Church) George Herbert, ‗divides the world between

9 James Obelkevich, ‗Proverbs and social history‘, in Peter Burke, Roy Porter, eds, The Social History of Language, Cambridge, CUP, 1987, p. 43 10 Obelkevich, ‗Proverbs and social history‘, p. 44 11 Obelkevich, ‗Proverbs and social history‘, p. 44 12 Francis Bacon, The Advancement of Learning, 1605, II. Reprint of Cassell & Company, 1893, trans David Price, 2004, www.gutenberg.org/etext/5500 13 David Fergusson, E Beveridge (ed), Fergusson‟s Scottish Proverbs from the Original Print of 1641 together with a Larger Manuscript Collection, Glascow, STS, 1924, no. 862, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 150 35 atheism and superstition.‘14 In that world, the devil knew no national boundaries: in 1659 Spain and 1732 England, he might get ‗up to the belfry by the vicar‘s skirts‘.15 After all, ‗the Devil is a busy bishop in his own diocese‘: Bishop Latimer said in 1548, inverting the usual plaudits given to the preaching bishop, in that ‗[t]here is one that … is the most diligent prelate preacher in all England … I will tell you, it is the devil. He is the most diligent preacher of all other; he is never out of his diocess.‘16 Ferguson cited this proverb in 1641; it was still in circulation almost a century later.17 From 1598, we hear that one should ‗go to the Devil and bishop you‘, which Gillespie cited in 1637 thus: ‗He studieth not the Oracles of God, but the Principles of Satanicall guile, which he learneth so well, that he may go to the Divell to be Bishopped.‘18 The bishop and the devil were often linked in proverbs. The churchman, biographer and antiquarian Thomas Fuller told a story of a boy, who ‗having gotten a habit of counterfeiting … would not be undeviled by all their exorcisms, so that the priests raised up a spirit which they could not allay.‘19 In this, he spoke of ‗the boy of Bilston‘, who in 1616 purportedly participated in an attempted fraud in which Jesuit priests would appear to have conducted a successful exorcism.20 Conducting an exorcism was a politically and religiously charged event in seventeenth century England, as the flamboyance of Catholic sacramentals contrasted with the prayerful exorcisms of the Church of England. As a Protestant, Fuller eyed Catholic ritual with suspicion and derision and was excited by the possibility of fraud. The loyal Fuller‘s wit and undoubtedly also his anti-Papist sentiments helped him keep his head throughout the Civil War, see the Restoration and become chaplain to Charles II. Fuller‘s story was far from inflammatory, although he did manage to upset people on either side of politics at times: perhaps to be completely outrageous, one had to accept that ‗A complete Christian must have the works of a Papist, the words of a Puritan, and the faith of a Protestant‘, as James Howell, ‗Historiographer

14 George Herbert , Jacula Prudentum, 1651, in A B Grosart (ed), The Complete Works in Verse and Prose of George Herbert, 1874, vol. 3, no. 369, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 151. 15 James Howell, ‗Proverbs or Old Sayed-Sawes and Adages in the English Tovng; Some Choice Proverbs in the Spanish Tovng, British or Old Cambrian Proverbs, Divers Centuries of New Sayings‘, in Lexicon Tetraglotton, an English-French-Italian-Spanish Dictionary, 1659, 20; Fuller, 1732, no. 4476, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 151 16 , Sermons 6, 1548, in G E Corrie (ed), Sermons by Hugh Latimer, PS 27, 1844, no. 70 in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 151 17 Ferguson, no 814; Kelly in 1721, p.338, and Fuller in 1732, no. 4479, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 151 18 Ferguson MS, no. 595, a1598; George Gillespie A Dispute Against the English Popish Ceremonies Obtruded on the Church of Scotland, 1637, Ep. Intro., s.A2v; refers to when Charles I attempted to impose a version of the Book of Common Prayer on the Scots church. See facsimile at , http://www.archive.org/stream/EnglishpopishCeremonies/DisputeAgainstEnglishPopishCer emonies#page/n0/mode/2up 19 Thomas Fuller, The Church History of Britain from ; from the birth of Christ, untill the year M.DC.XLVIII, (London: printed for Iohn Williams at the signe of the Crown in St. Paul‘s Church-yard, Anno 1656), X iv, III 268, 1655, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 156 20 Fuller, The Church History of Britain, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 156. 36

Royal to Charles II‘ and younger brother of Thomas (Lord Bishop of Bristol) noted, possibly in a letter to the Earl of Pembroke.21 This latter proverb has no other written record: evidence perhaps that proverbs could be invented as a situation required and had currency at the highest levels, but Howell was also a dedicated proverb collector, and this may well have had less apparent origins. McLean argued that Howell called proverbs ‗natural children, legitimated by prescription and long tract of ancestral time.‘22 Yet a small change might adapt a proverb to a new situation without losing its meaning or ancient links. Kings such as James I (at whom Gillespie‘s criticism was directed) might suffer such proverbial criticism, but one had to be careful in dealings with those more powerful: as the ‗boy of Bilston‘ story showed, it was ‗an easier matter to raise the devil than to lay him.‘ 23 The bishop could be just as much a worry, especially when he gave his blessing: ‗when a thynge speadeth not well‘, the exegete and biblical translator William Tyndale said, ‗we borrow speech and say ―the byshope hath blessed it‖, because that nothynge speadeth well that they medyll withal.‘24 Tyndale was one of the earliest to attempt to translate the Bible directly from Greek and Hebrew texts and make it accessible to ordinary people: he wanted a bible that people outside the priesthood could access and understand. Although he is contextualised by the use of proverbs to express anti-episcopal sentiments, he used proverbs, or the ‗borrowed speech‘ of allegory they contained to support his argument that translation into the vernacular was necessary.25 The scriptures as they were, he saw as sometimes unclear: thus, ‗the Apocalypse or Revelations of John are allegories whose literal sense is hard to find in many places.‘26 It was essential to identify those literal meanings:

Thou shalt understand therefore that the scripture hath but one sense which is the literal sense. And that literal sense is the root and ground of all, and the anchor that never faileth… and if thou leave the literal sense thou canst not but go out of the way. Neverthelater the scripture useth proverbs, similtudes, riddles or allegories as all other speeches do, but that which the proverb, similitude, riddle or allegory signifieth is ever the literal sense which thou must seek out diligently.27

To Tyndale, the meanings of proverbs were so obvious that all recognised their implications; they were ‗allegories borrowed of worldly matter‘ that clearly signified everyday truths, and he wanted to provide scriptures with as apparent literal meaning.28

21 James Howell, Epistolae Ho-Elianae. The Familiar Letters II ii, II 402, 1635, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 100 22 Vincent Stuckey Lean, Lean‟s Collectiana volume III: A Compilation towards a Dictionary of Words and Phrases, old or disused, London, JW Arrowsmith, 1903, 375. 23 Fuller, no. 4000, 1732, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 156 24 William Tyndale, The Obediance of a Chrystian Man, 1828 in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 166 or see W Tyndale in David Daniel (ed),The Obedience of a Christian Man, London, Penguin, 2000, p. 156 25 Tyndale, The Obediance of a Chrystian Man, p. 156 26 Tyndale, The Obediance of a Chrystian Man, p. 156 27 Tyndale, The Obediance of a Chrystian Man, p. 156 28 Tyndale, The Obediance of a Chrystian Man, p. 157 37

To support his argument, Tyndale cited proverbs, placed here in italics, with relevance to events in and around his society and the Church:

We say let the sea swell and rise as high as he will yet hath God appointed how far he shall go: meaning that the tyrants shall not do what they would, but only that which God hath appointed them to do. Look ere thou leap, whose literal sense is, do nothing suddenly or without advisement. Cut not the bought thou standest upon, whose literal sense is oppress not the commons and is borrowed of hewers… If the porridge be burned too, or the meat over-roasted, we say, the bishop hathe put his foot in the pot or the bishop hath played the cook, because the bishops burn whom they lust and whosoever displeaseth them. He is a pontifical fellow, that is, proud and stately. He is popish, that is, superstitious and faithless. It is pastime for a prelate. It is a pleasure for a Pope. He would be free and yet will not have his head shaven. He would that no man should smite him and yet hath not the Pope‘s mark… Thus borrow we and feign new speech in every tongue. All fables, prophecies and riddles are allegories and Aesop‘s fables and Merlin‘s prophecies and the interpretation of them are the literal sense.29

Tyndale‘s overt attacks on civil authority and the Church made him a hero in Foxe‘s Book of Martyrs.30 His proverbs provide an important insight into the way in which they were used in his time to express ideas about the Church, including the condemnation of its hierarchy but also the elucidation of its scriptures. Just as importantly, Tyndale‘s words reflect the ideas of ‗the commons‘: the ordinary people. Proverbs provided time-proven and flexible explanations for the joys and challenges of popular life. The proverb that spoke of rain could be turned around to speak of sunshine; with a subtle alteration, the proverb that explained misfortune could also explain good hap, or luck. Reminiscent of the ancient notions of a goddess Fortuna, these latter words represent ideas that had been gradually integrated into a Christian society and maintained the potential for chance or random events rather than those directed by God in a society where magical events were still accepted. Some Early Modern Christians were uncomfortable with the idea of explaining events by such means, and promoted the notion of Divine Providence instead: but old habits die hard, as the proverb says, and for the most part, Early Modern people saw proverbs as old but sensible knowledge in a world that was often unpleasantly unpredictable.31 Consequently, although some might have worried a little or a lot about resourcing extra- Biblical explanations, nearly all learned and used proverbs from early childhood so that they would both appear to have, and actually have, wisdom. Many of the examples used here in fact recall the words and church connections of educated and socially prominent sixteenth and

29 Tyndale, The Obediance of a Chrystian Man, p. 157 30 John Foxe, Actes and Monuments of these Latter and Perillous Days, Touching Matters of the Church, John Day, London, 1563. See online at Humanities Research Institute, University of , ‗John Foxe‘s Book of Martyrs‘, http://www.hrionline.ac.uk/johnfoxe/index.html 31 The notion of Divine Providence is sometimes ascribed particularly to Protestants. For an argument that it was not just a Protestant idea, see Alexandra Walsham, Providence in Early Modern England, New York, Oxford University Press, 1999 38 seventeenth century characters according to their use of proverbs in histories, letters and other historiographical treasuries. But whether proverbs were derided or encouraged, they were accepted as vox populi and we hear ordinary voices through these mediating discourses. For some educated and more privileged individual, proverbs might have expressed the stupidity of the common person rather than their ability to reason through a situation. Physician Sir Thomas Browne for example demonstrated a commitment to the new sciences as he ridiculed the ordinary person and their beliefs in 1646, in his book Pseudopodia Epidemica, known as Vulgar Errors:

For being unable to wield the intellectual arms of reason, they are fain to betake themselves unto wasters and the blunter weapons of truth; affecting the gross and sensible waies of doctrine, and such as will not conflict with strict and subtile reason. Thus unto them a piece of Rhetorick is a sufficient argument of Logick, an Apologue of Aesop, beyond a Syllogism in Barbara; parables than propositions, and proverbs more powerfull than demonstrations.32

Strongly anti-Catholic, Brown‘s fondness for calling upon Reason appears in his several other books and reveals his low-church beliefs.33 Like so many of his peers, he also believed in ‗sorceries, incantations and spells‘, and attended at least one witchcraft trial.34 Browne was consequently no more or less than an educated man of his time: science, church and the devil were part of the daily life illuminated and framed by proverbial wisdom. Proverb collections reveal that by the later-seventeenth century, political affiliation, royalist activity and proverbial wisdom could converge. ‗It that God will give the devil cannot reave [rob us of]‘, the proverb says; ‗spoken‘, Ferguson noted in 1598, ‗when we have attain‘d our End in spite of Opposition.‘35 If ever faith might waver, then royalist Roger L‘Estrange, considered the first journalist in our terms, might have wondered about the truth in that proverb as he suffered imprisonment and censure both for his faith and the way in which he expressed his conviction that the King‘s way was the only one that was truly Godly. He had been to Oxford with Cromwell who eventually pardoned him; James II later knighted him, and L‘Estrange went on to write, among other things, a version of Aesop‘s

32 Thomas Browne, Pseudopodia Epidemica, or, Enquiries into very many received Tenents, and Commonly Presumed Truths. Book 1, London, Nath. Ekins, 1658, p. 6. Grace Frank used these remarks in 1943 to contend that proverbs had always been a sign of vulgarity. Recent research has shown her to be wrong in that perception. See Grace Frank, ‗Proverbs in Medieval Literature‘, Modern Language Notes, Vol. 58, No. 7, 1943, pp. 508- 515 33 See Martin Ignatius Joseph Griffin, Richard Popkin, Lila Freedman, Latitudinarianism in the seventeenth-century Church of England, Leiden, E J Brill, 1992, pp. 45-46. Browne‘s religious perspectives are apparent in his 1643 book Religio Medici. See Thomas Browne, Religio Medici, London, Andrew Crooke, 1643 in James Fields, ed, The Writings of Sir Thomas Browne, Boston, Tickner and Fields, 1862, pp. 62-63. Browne‘s other works can be viewed at James Eason, ‗Sir Thomas Browne‘, http://penelope.uchicago.edu/ 34 For discussions about the ways in which Browne‘s science and beliefs (such as in witchcraft) conflicted, see Malcolm Letts, ‗Sir Thomas Browne and Witches‘, British Medical Journal, 1912, 1(2680), pp. 1104–1105 35 Kelley, p. 320, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 263 39 fables, with commentary.36 In that, he remarked that ‗[i]t is a kind of Conditional Devotion for Men to be Religious no longer then they can Save, or Get by‘t … the Moral is … compriz‘d in the Old Saying: He that serves God for Money, will serve the Devil for better Wages.‘37 L‘Estrange was no angel, and supporting the Royalist cause during the English Civil Wars cost him and his family dearly, but this example demonstrates the way in which proverb users could use the sayings (and the credibility of their antiquity) to position themselves on a high moral ground. It was also possible to use proverbial wisdom to undercut the authority of church and of Christian lives. ‗Where God has his church‘, another said, ‗the devil has his chapel‘; this proverb appears many times between 1560 and 1688, with one reference substituting synagogue for chapel.38 Martin Luther cited this proverb: there are few paragraphs in any of his writings that do not include proverbs, generally used with wit.39 put another twist on the same proverb when he took it further in 1621: ‗A lamentable thing it is to consider‘, he said, ‗how many myriads of men this Idolatry and Superstition … have infatuated ... . For where God hath a Temple, the Devil will have a chapel.‘40 Oxford scholar and later Rector Burton was writing about melancholy, or depression as we know it now, as part of what (as a sufferer himself) he saw as a religious duty; hence, he said, ‗[a] good divine either is or ought to be a good physician, a spiritual physician at least.‘41 With all respect to Burton though, proverbs show that others saw the church as a source of angst, not a place to be cured of it. ‗A holy Habit‘, Herbert noted, ‗cleanses not a foul soul.‘42 ‗Take heed‘, he added, ‗of an ox before [at the front], a horse behind, of a monk [or parson] on all sides.‘43 Priest-collectors apparently honestly repeat proverbs where the church and clergy are not shown at their best, but their collections should not be seen as studies in objectivity. They are often edited, mostly of remarks deemed too foul or crude for publication: words that are often considered part of toilet humour now remain but as ‘ diaries show, bodily functions and parts were not spoken of openly with today‘s discomfort. These remain, but some proverbs that their collectors deemed too carnal seem to have been edited, often leaving nonetheless a wry or self-deprecating humour. ‗It is height makes steeple stand awry‘, said Fuller, explaining that ‗Eminency exposeth the uprightest persons to exception; and such who cannot find faults in them,

36 See George Kitchin, Sir Roger L‟Estrange. A contribution to the history of the Press in the seventeenth century, London, Kegan-Paul, Trench, Trübner and Co. Ltd, 1913; see also Peter Hinds, ‗Roger L‘Estrange, the Rye House plot, and the regulation of political discourse in late-seventeenth-century London‘, The Library, 2002, 3, (1):3-31 37 R L‘Estrange, Aesop‟s Fables, 105, I, 100, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 263 38 Various, Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 265 39 Martin Luther, Table Talk, 1569, 67 40 Robert Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy, lll IV i I, 1621, T 265; see at Project Gutenberg, http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/10800 41 Burton in Algis Valiunas, ‗Melancholy‘s Whole Physician‘, The New Atlantis, Summer 2007, 53-69. http://www.thenewatlantis.com/docLib/TNA17-Valiunas.pdf 42 Herbert, ? The Temple, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 305. Herbert died in 1633. 43 Herbert, 1640, no.894, Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 305 40 will find faults at them, envying their advancement‘.44 Fuller was remarking on the history of Lincolnshire (and the impressive spire of St Wulfram's Church in Grantham) in his Worthies of England, the Early Modern equivalent of a traveller‘s guide: his comments incorporate and explain proverbs that were popular in many localities and show that proverbs can make subtle or open political comment. Cleveland explained the Grantham steeple proverb as ‗No churchman can be innocent and high…‘ at the end of his Elegy to Archbishop Laud.45 Many proverbs carry their meaning to the present: we must all have heard that ‗The road to Hell is paved with good intentions‘, or one of its other versions, such as ‗Hell is full of good meanings and wishings‘; the latter being explained further by the puritanical William Gurnall, whose popular sermon collections are notable otherwise for having one of the longest titles of the time.46 To this proverb many added ‗but Heaven is full of good works.‘ Gurnall did not directly: The Christian in Complete Armour conveyed that message throughout. Nonetheless, when he explained that ‗The Proverb saith, Hell is full of good wishes, - of such, who now, when it is too late, wish they had acted their part otherwise than they did‘, he might have meant himself, having been ostracised by many of his peers after signing the Act of Uniformity in 1662 and subscribing to the re-established authority of the English episcopate, but in doing so, he retained his Ministry and began a connection with the new Church of England.47 This proverb is also expressed as ‗Hell is paved with priests‘ shaven crowns and great men‘s headpieces‘, as for example by John Trapp, who sided with Parliament during the Civil War.48 Whether in regard to monk or bishop, proverbs adapted to the shifting sands of politics. John Harrington (or Harington), flushing-closet inventor and a favoured but troublesome godson of Queen Elizabeth, experienced royal favour and disfavour from both Elizabeth and James I. On the title page of a book he gave to his pupil, Henry Prince of Wales, he

44 Fuller, History of the Worthies of England, II, reprinted P Austin Nuttall, London, Thomas Tegg, 1840, p. 268, 1662, Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 306 45 John Cleveland, Elegy upon the Archbishop of Canterbury, I. 50, (1687)p.63: Poems, p. 153, 1658, 1677, T 306 http://books.google.com.au/books?id=X0mtS_bi59YC&pg=RA1- PA151&lpg=RA1- PA151&dq=Cleveland,+Elegy+upon+Archbishop&source=bl&ots=I3R3WXpcW7&sig=J AQ2stryNLG-MkpZdD9XGkrHmG0&hl=en&ei=ThZLS- nyAYzU7APhoYzXCw&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=2&ved=0CAkQ6AE wAQ#v=onepage&q=Cleveland%2C%20Elegy%20upon%20Archbishop&f=false 46 William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour, or, a Treatise Of the Saints' War against the Devil: The saint‟s war against the Devil, wherein a discovery is made of that grand enemy of God and his people, in his policies, power, seat of his empire, wickedness, and chief design he hath against the saints; a magazine opened, frorm whence the Christian is furnished with spiritual arms for the battle, helped on with his armour, and taught the use of his weapon; together with the happy issue of the whole war, London, L B Seeley, (1655-62) 1821 edn‘ in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 307 47 Sylvanus Urban, The Gentleman‟s Magazine, 9, January – June, 1838, London, William Pickering; John Bowyer Nichols and Son, 598-99 48 John Trapp and Hugh Martin, A Commentary on the Old and New Testaments, London, 1654, I Cor I, V 520, T 307. See Roger D Lund, ‗The Ghosts of Epigram, False Wit and the Augustan Mode‘, Eighteenth-Century Life, 2003, 27(2):67-95. See also Philip Schaff, New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge, Vol XI: Son of Man – Tremellius, 11, 501 41 noted that it was ‗written for the private use of Prince Henry, upon occasion of that Proverb, Henry the Eighth pull‘d down Monks and their Cells. Henry the Ninth should pull down Bishops and their Bells.‘49 Interestingly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, this is the only known reference to that proverb. It is however noteworthy as a proverb which can be historicised. Harington, although known later in the seventeenth century as an anti-episcopal writer, intended his commentary for Henry Prince of Wales to warn against the puritan agitation then abroad in the Church of England for the abolition of the episcopate.50 Other proverbs associated with both the houses of Tudor and Stuart (and like Harington's citation, alluding to the transition from Tudor to Stuart in 1603) can also be related to actual historical events. Similarly, there is only one known mention of the adage that ‗In Henry was the union of the roses, in James of the kingdoms‘.51 It occurs in another Puritan sympathizer, Thomas Adams, who cites it thus: ‗[w]e are not shuffled into a popular gouernment, nor cut into Cantons, by a headless, headstrong Aristocracie: But Henricus Rosas, Regna Iacobus: in Henry was the vnion of the Roses in Iames of the Kingdomes.‘52 While these writers were not shy when it came to their opinions on society, religion and politics, ordinary people in their use of proverbs could be just as blunt. ‗Is the priest hande ith honyepot yet?‘, appears in an unflattering farce on English society in about 1560; a similar version was shown earlier in Tyndale and it appears also as ‗the Hog is got into the Honeypot‘.53 Such sayings were intended to humble an exalted person, as is evident in ‗[h]ere is a device to find a hole in the coat of some of you ‘, which appears in the Martin Marprelate tracts in 1588; to find a hole in that sense meant to seek and find fault, and this was certainly attempted with gusto in the Marprelate attacks on the Episcopacy.54 In the Marprelate case, legal action did ensue: the works were so vehement that modest Puritans found them embarrassing, and although the tract authors were never conclusively identified, two men died because of hunts conducted by Bishop of London.55 The proverb itself appears often in the late sixteenth and throughout the seventeenth century:

49 Refers to his annotations on Francis Godwin's A Catalogue of the Bishops of England (1601), later published by Harington‘s grandson as A Briefe View of the State of the Church of England, Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 309 . 50 Marcus Harmes, ―Orthodox Puritans and Dissenting Bishops: The Reformation of the English Episcopate, ca. 1580-1610‖, Comitatus, vol.39, 2008, pp.119-218. 51 Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 309 52 Thomas Adams, ‗City of Peace‘ in The Workes of Thos Adams. Being the Svmmee of his Sermons, Meditations, and Other Divine and Morall Discourses. Collected in One Volume, 1629, p. 1009 in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 309. See John Brown and Thomas Adams, The Sermons Of Thomas Adams: The Shakespeare Of Puritan Theologians, Cambridge, CUP, 1909; see also William Mulder, ‗Style and the Man: Thomas Adams, Prose Shakespeare of Puritan Divines‘, The Harvard Theological Review, Vol. 48, No. 2, 1955, pp. 129-152 53 Anon, Misogonus, II, iv 180. See F. S. Boas, in A. W. Ward and A. R. Waller, (eds), The Cambridge History of English and American Literature in 18 Volumes (1907–21), Volume V, Cambridge, 1910 54 Martin Marprelate, Epitome: Marprelate Tracts, p. 119 55 See Joseph Black, ‗The Rhetoric of Reaction: The Martin Marprelate Tracts (1588-89), Anti- Martinism, and the Uses of Print in Early Modern England‘, The Sixteenth Century Journal, Vol. 28, No. 3 (Autumn, 1997), pp. 707-725, and John Lewis, The Marprelate Tracts 1588-1589, The Anglican Library, http://www.anglicanlibrary.org/marprelate/#intro 42

Gurnall used it in The Christian in Complete Armour in 1655, remarking that ‗[n]or is it hard for Satan to pick some hole in the saint‘s coat, when he walks most circumspectly‘; in 1659-60, Elizabeth Pepys worried about someone whom she believed wanted to ‗pick some hole‘ in Samuel‘s coat and in 1732, Fuller warned that ‗[w]hen a Man‘s Coat is Thread-bare, its [sic] an easie Thing to pick a Hole in it.‘56 It could be said that Fuller‘s version took the proverb out of context: but there is a proverb even for this. Imagine an accident or sword injury that deprived a person of their nose in older times: such a disfigurement would curtail one‘s social life, but in part might have been remedied enough to regain some social acceptance by the application of a wax nose. ‗Might‘ is the better word, for wax is not the best solution for a lost nose: noses of papier-mâché and later, metal, seem to have been preferred to something malleable and affected by heat.57 Nonetheless, somewhere in time, the idea of a wax nose entered the popular vocabulary, and eventually came to mean something that could be turned in any direction. In this respect, it also came to be ‗an expression applied to the practice of wresting the Scriptures from their context.‘58 Thus, Tyndale said ca 1530 that ‗[i]f the scripture be contrary, then make it like a nose of wax, and wrest it this way and that, till it agree.‘59 Others concurred, with many similar uses of the proverb until the ‗charismatic preacher at the Savoy‘ (as he has been called) Anthony Horneck used it in 1686.60 Horneck turned it on proverbial wisdom itself, referring to ‗[o]ral tradition, that Nose of Wax, which you may turn and set any way you list.‘61 By that time, although fear of Papism survived for Horneck and his friends, proverbs were beginning to lose favour as a religious didactic tool in the sermon, tracts and pamphlets. In the interim, they had more to say about the church and its characters: from several perspectives. ‗And this proverb ariseth not without cause‘, said Hoby in 1561, ‗The habit maketh not the Monke.‘ Monks, friars and priests: all were targeted by the overwhelmingly un-Papist proverb collectors cited here, who also attacked the hierarchy of the reformed Church of England. Yet ample criticism and proverbs came from those on the Catholic side, and probably also from those among the everyday folk who took no sides and wanted no more than predictability and calm in their lives. Another proverb matter-of- factly expresses the realities of the dissolution of the monasteries: ‗Hopton, Horner, Smyth and Thynne, when abbots went out, they came in‘.62

56 Gurnall, Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour, p. 57; Samuel Pepys, The Diaries of Samuel Pepys, 1659-60, January 27, I 35; Fuller, no. 5538 in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 314 57 See James Atkinson, Medical Bibliography A and B, London, John Churchill, 1834, pp. 191-2 58 Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 315 59 Tyndale in George Latimer Apperson, M. Manser , Dictionary of Proverbs, Hertfordshire: Wordsworth, 1993, p. 56, Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 315 60 Tony Claydon, William III and the Godly Revolution, Cambridge, CUP, 1996 (2004 edn), pp.65, 66-68 61 Anthony Horneck, The crucified Jesus: or, A full account of the nature, and, design and benefits of the Sacraments of the Lord‟s Supper, London, A Lowndes, 1686, p. 107 in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 315. For more on Horneck, see Scott Thomas Kisker, Foundation for Revival: Anthony Horneck, the Religious Societies, and the Construction of an Anglican , London, Scarecrow Press, 2007 62 Aubrey, Brief Lives, I, 1669-96, p.279 43

Mentioned in John Aubrey‘s Brief Lives, the proverb speaks of individuals who benefitted from the dissolution of the monasteries. 63 One of those characters lives on in nursery rhymes as Little Jack Horner who found a plum in his Christmas pie, a story that may be based in historical fact. If so, it developed a life of its own that probably incorporates a proverb or two and suggests another aspect of proverbs: their ability to encapsulate an historical event using the mnemonic device of rhyme, which is a characteristic of oral culture. 64Another proverb also might apply to this rhyme, for ‗the Devil makes his Christmas pie [or salad] of lawyers‘ tongues and clerks‘ fingers.‘ 65 Aubrey found a related tale amusing: ‗Sir Robert Pye, attorney of the court of words… happened to dye on Christmas Day: the newes being brought to the serjeant, said he The Devil has a Christmas Pye.‘66 Proverbs were hard on those perceived to rise above their status and lose all humility. Thus, ‗The Parish priest forgets that ever he was clerk‘ is ‗meant of proud starters up [upstarts].‘67 If less than completely proper in his ways, such a priest might be referred to contemptuously as a ‗Pancridge Parson‘.68 Perhaps some parsons were just naïve: an unmarried pregnant daughter might ‗come home like the Parson‘s cow, with a calf at her foot‘;

63 Chris Roberts, Heavy words lightly thrown: the reason behind the rhyme, London, Granta Publications, 2004, pp.3-5 64 The nursery rhyme arguably refers to a Mr Horner, steward to the Abbot of Glastonbury who supposedly by reprehensible means obtained the deeds to Mells Manor during the dissolutions. Chris Roberts argues that Horner was sent with a pie for Henry VIII containing twelve manor deeds in an attempt to persuade him not to take Glastonbury; along the way, Horner extracted the deed for Mells Manor. The ruse failed: Whiting was executed and the king took Glastonbury, but the Horner family still has the manor. See Chris Roberts, Heavy words lightly thrown: the reason behind the rhyme, London, Granta Publications, 2004, pp.3-5. There are several problems with this story; for example, the Horner who obtained the ‗plum‘ Mells Manor was not Jack, but Thomas, and the Horners claim that the property was legally acquired. John Leland wrote in the 1530s that ‗There is a praty maner place of stone harde at the west ende of the chirche. This be likelihod was partely buildid by Abbate Selwodde of Glasteinbyri. Syns it servid the fermer of the lordeship. Now Mr. Horner hath boute the lordship of the king‘, in Lucy Toulmin Smith, ed, The Itinerary of John Leland in or about the Years 1535-1 543, X, London, G Bell and Sons, 1906, pp. 6-7, Internet Archive, http://www.archive.org/stream/itineraryofjohnl05lelauoft/itineraryofjohnl05lelauoft_djvu.tx t. However, this anomaly could invoke yet another proverb in relation to the upwardly mobile Horner, for ‗Jack‘ was a popular name for anyone below the rank of Gentleman, and proverbially, ‗Jack would be a Gentleman‘, as in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p.344. Hence, Starkey says in 1538 that ‗Wyth the intaylyng of landys, euery Jake wold be a gentylman, and euery gentylman a knight or a lord.‘ See T Starkey Dialogue I iv 429: Eng in Reign Hen VIII II, p. 112. Baret adds in 1580 that it is ‗[a] prouerbe aptly to be applied to those which are aduanced from a base state vnto an high dignitie: and as our vulgare phrase is, Jacke is become a Gentleman.‘ A Jack eventually came to mean someone deceitful; Samuel Pepys recorded in 1668 that ‗Sir R Brookes overtook us coming to town; who hath played the jacke with us all, and is a fellow that I must trust no more.‘ Pepys, Diary Feb 23, VII p. 337 65 Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 152 66 Aubrey, Brief Lives, I 422, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 152 67 Howell, English Proverbs, p.1; Ray 1670, p.133. 68 Nathaniel Field, A Woman is a Weathercock, in WC Hazlitt, R Dodsley (eds), A Select Collection of Old English Plays, II I, 1875, p.33, in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 523; see also Wilberforce Jenkinson, London Churches before the Great Fire, London, Society For Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1917, pp. 272-4 44 but respect was just as likely.69 ‗Parsons‘, Herbert noted (perhaps with vested interest) ‗are souls‘ wagoners‘: although the same proverb could be seen as ‗fools‘ Waggoners‘, another again says that ‗Ministers are the chariots of souls.‘70 Students might disagree just as passionately: despite centuries of amicable rivalry, relationships between two prominent London schools soured during Henry VIII‘s reign (in which time one remained identified as Roman Catholic, and the other linked to the new church) and remained so despite the conciliatory efforts of Edward VI. Strype notes that:

Nevertheless, howsoever the Encouragement failed, the Scholars of Paul's meeting with them of St. Anthony‘s, would call them St. Anthony‘s Pigs; and they again would call the other, Pigeons of Paul‘s; because many Pigeons were bred in Paul‘s Church, and St. Anthony was always figured with a Pig following him: And mindful of the former Usage, did for a long Season (disorderly in the open Street) provoke one another…. And so proceeding from this to Questions in Grammar, they usually fell from Words to Blows, with their Satchels full of Books, many times in so great Heaps, that they troubled the Streets and Passengers; so that finally they were restrained, with the Decay of St. Anthony‘s School. 71

From such antagonism there swiftly arose the phrase ‗Paul‘s pigeons and St Anthonie‘s pigs‘, which was derogatory from either perspective. Sayings such as this were designed to take people a ‗peg [or buttonhole, or hole] lower, as John Lyly said ca1589 in a response to the Martin Marprelate Tracts: ‗[N]ow haue at you all my gaffers of the rayling religion, tis I that must take you a peg lower.‘72 Samuel Butler threw it back after the Restoration in Hudibras, an anti-Puritan poem probably intended to impress Charles II into giving him a pension.73 Hudibras portrays the enemy through his main character, the Puritan Sir Hudibras, who is often shown as pretending to be educated and righteous, but is anything but; in fact, Sir Hudibras often seems, from Butler‘s perspective, common, in deed and word. Butler used lines such as:

And for the churches, which may chance From hence, to fpring a variance, And raife among themfelves new fcruples. Whom common danger hardly couples. Remember how in arms and politics. We still have worfted all your holy tricks; Trepann‘d your party with intrigue.

69 1670, Ray in Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p.209 70 Herbert no 932; N R, p. 87, Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 523 71 John Strype, A Survey of the Cities of London and Westminster, p. 124; Julia Merritt, ed., HRI Online, http://www.hrionline.ac.uk/strype/tableOfcontent.jsp#Preface This is a post- Great Fire edition of John Stow‘s A Survey of the Cities of London, 1598, p. 75 72 Lyly Pappe with an Hatchet. Alias, a figge for my God sonne. Or cracke me this nut. Or a countrie cuffe, that is, a sound boxe of the eare, for the idiot Martin to hold his peace, seeing the patch will take no warning. Written by one that dares call a dog, a dog, and made to preuent Martins dog daies, in The Complete Works of John Lyly III 394 73 Butler, Hudibras, II, ii 520, p.174 45

And took your grandees down a peg;74

Yet, as heartfelt as the poem‘s criticism seems, it appears that Butler was quieter about his views during the events that inspired the poem: not wealthy, he spent part of the Civil War as a clerk in the employ of ‗fanatical Puritan‘ and Cromwellian colonel Sir Samuel Luke, on whom he may have based his Hudibras character.75 While Butler apparently began Hudibras during the war, he is also rumoured to have painted a portrait of Cromwell during that time.76 The author of the introduction in a later edition of Hudibras explained the situation by saying that:

For, though fate, more than choice, seems to have placed him in the service of a Knight so notorious, both in his person and politics, yet, by the rule of contraries, one may observe throughout his whole Poem, that he was most orthodox, both in his religion and loyalty. And I am the more induced to believe he wrote it about that time, because he had then the opportunity to converse with those living characters of rebellion, nonsense, and hypocrisy, which he so livelily and pathetically exposes throughout the whole work.77

Ashley Marshall contends that Butler was ‗less concerned with the vanished Cromwell regime than with ongoing sectarian controversy in the and 1670s.‘ 78 Nonetheless, in Butler‘s and probably some other cases, the outward expression of personal religious beliefs may have been tempered by a desire to survive. Butler‘s work contains many proverbs, of which an analysis is overdue.79 Another seventeenth century character‘s pragmatic attitudes to religious turmoil inspired a proverb: ‗[t]he Vicar of Bray will be Vicar of Bray still‘ which came to represent a turncoat, although some might call such a person a realist. According to Fuller in 1662, it referred to:

The vivacious Vicar hereof living under King Henry the Eighth, King Edward the Sixth, Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth, was first a Papist, then a Protestant, then a Papist, then a Protestant again. He had seen some

74 Samuel Butler, Hudibras. A Poem in Three Cantos, http://www.archive.org/stream/hudibraspoeminth01butl/hudibraspoeminth01butl_djvu.txt See C M Webster, ‗The Satiric Background of the Attack on the Puritans in Swift‘s a Tale of a Tub‘, Modern Language Association, PMLA, vol. 50, no. 1, 1935, pp. 210-223 http://www.archive.org/stream/hudibraspoeminth01butl/hudibraspoeminth01butl_djvu.txt 75 William Francis Smith in AW Ward and A R Waller, eds, The Cambridge History of English and American Literature, VIII, New York: Putnam, 1907–21, New York, Bartleby.Com, 2000 http://www.bartleby.com/218/0203.html 76 Smith in Ward and Waller, The Cambridge History of English and American Literature, p. 13, fn. 77 Samuel Butler, Hudibras, http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext04/hdbrs10.txt 78 Ashley Marshall, ‗The Aims of Butler‘s Satire in Hudibras‘, Modern Philology, 105, no.4, 2008, pp. 637–65 79 This was remarked upon in 1880, and probably on other occasions; an entire article could be written on them. For 1880, see RGW, ‗Perverted Quotations; Misapprehension and Misrepresentation of Great Authors. The Author of Hudibras, St. Paul, St. Peter, Bulwer, Shakespeare Made Responsible for what they did not write‘, The New York Times, February 22, 1880, p. 8, http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive- free/pdf?_r=1&res=9C0DE1D71E31EE3ABC4A51DFB466838B699FDE 46

martyrs burnt (two miles off) at Windsor, and found this fire too hot for his tender temper. This vicar being taxed by one for being a turncoat and an inconstant changeling, "Not so," said he, "for I always kept my principle, which is this, to live and die the Vicar of Bray."80

Far from being a curio briefly relevant to a time past, the story in this proverb so appealed to the popular humour that it continued to be used as a proverb, but also developed into a ballad and (by the eighteenth century) a song, followed by a nineteenth century comic opera.81 In 1841, a ship of the Whitehaven style was also named after the resilient Vicar, who, in the story had by this time extended his tenure to the time of George I. The ship could be argued as being less or equally durable: she lays a wreck on the Falkland Islands, the only survivor of James Hardy‘s Whitehaven line and a rotting remnant of a once grand empire.82 This acknowledgment of the lure of a proverbial tale reveals the way in which a simple story was being melded into a legend. In the early twentieth century the story became a film starring Stanley Holloway in which the vicar became a hero who placed the interests of his parishioners before his own. 83 In 1936, Royal Doulton issued a Toby mug depicting the vicar, by which time the ballad had attained the status of a national song, which, in this century, is recognisable to most English people and can be seen in several versions on YouTube.84 Thus, even the most seemingly innocuous a proverb can have a life far beyond its original relevance. The YouTube clip speaks loudly of the enduring ability of the proverb as signifier. Just as important are the viewer comments pasted below it; hence, ‗Agrgurich‘ remarks that the clip is a ‗[g]great performance of a very amusing song which contains something for all of us to ponder.‘85 ‗Endeuarabia‘ responds: ‗[i]ndeed. Oh the church will reap from what they sowed, their heathen ways.‘86

80 Fuller continues: ‗Such many nowadays, who though they cannot turn the wind will turn their mills, and set them so, that wheresoever it bloweth their grist shall certainly be grinded.‘ See Fuller Worthies 1662 I, 79; from Tilley, A dictionary of the proverbs, p. 697. The Vicar of Bray has been argued as being Simon Aleyn, Simon Simonds or Francis Carswell. See William Wightman Wood, Richard S. Chattock, Sketches of Eton: Etchings and vignettes by Richard S. Chattock, and descriptive notes by W. Wightman Wood, London, Chadwyck-Healey Ltd, 1874, p.52; see also Anon, Notes And Queries For Literary Men, General Readers, Etc, Twelfth Series, vol 50, 1916, Internet Archive, http://www.archive.org/stream/s12notesqueries01londuoft/s12notesqueries01londuoft_djvu .txt 81 Sydney Grundy, Edward Solomon, The Vicar of Bray, London 1882 82 See Tim Latham, ‗Vicar of Bray‘, Through Mighty Seas. A Maritime History Page, http://www.mightyseas.co.uk/marhist/whitehaven/vicarofbray.htm 83 Henry Edwards, (dir) The Vicar of Bray, Riverside Studios, London, 1937 84 English national songs - The Vicar of Bray, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYlgT3yuAdQ 85 ‗Agrgurich‘, text comment, January 2009; ‗English national songs - The Vicar of Bray, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYlgT3yuAdQ‘ . In email contact, this writer said that ‗I found it bizarre & hilarious to play that tune at a wedding. If I were the vicar or the priest, I'd object to having a song played depicting me as a time-serving unprincipled hack.‘ ‗AJG‘, pers. corr., 15 Jan 2010 86 ‗Endeuarabia‘, text comment, February 2009; ‗English national songs - The Vicar of Bray, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYlgT3yuAdQ‘

47

Proverbs convey basic lessons in life and common sense and do so over extended periods of time: they might tell a person whose knowledge was encapsulated and resourced in their memory to remember to lock the sheep up when the sky was very red or to prepare to plough when the birds or animals acted a certain way. The messages showed here, while related, nonetheless helped in other ways; they made the seemingly inexplicable make sense, reminded individuals of social perimeters and empowered by allowing critical social comment without fear of punishment at a time when heads were easily separated from shoulders. Proverbs thus offered survival skills: learn from experience; actions have consequences; do not trust those in power and expect duplicity – and never ignore the memory or power of the commons. Since proverbs were a critical knowledge component of the uneducated and educated, poor and comfortable, common or noble alike, they eventually made their way from the oral tradition into writing. As such, they are worthy of ongoing contextual analysis from a historiographical perspective.

48

A Struggle for Bare Existence: Planting the New Church of Jerusalem in Early Brisbane

Rod Fisher Independent Scholar

This paper explores the planting of Swedenborgianism in Brisbane, with specific reference to the New Church of Jerusalem. It refers to and includes its Anglican origins and lay leaders (particularly polymath Silvester Diggles and stationer George Slater), as well as its role in colonial life and the effort to differentiate itself from the prevailing denominations and prejudicial attitudes.

As part of the New Church of Jerusalem around the globe, the Brisbane Society, which continues in Queensland at Rosalie, owes its origin to Emanuel Swedenborg (1688-1772) – actually the prolific works of that Swedish scientist turned seer from the mid-1740s onwards. His was the historic revelation of the fifth regenerative cycle in spirituality, or age of the New Jerusalem.1 His followers in Queensland emerged from diverse contexts, although this paper will give particular attention to the planting of the Swedenborgian tradition which emerged from Anglican circles. It is necessary to sketch in some details of Swedenborgian doctrine. Rather than any orthodox Trinity, there was only a single composite divinity, the Lord Jesus Christ, who attributed not only Love, Wisdom and Power to humanity, but also the freedom to choose good or evil. Consequently heaven or hell was received into one‘s soul on earth and replicated after death, rather than any transformation. For that matter, the Last Judgement and the of Christ were spiritual occurrences which had already taken place. Contrary to any Calvinistic predestination and closer to Catholicism, good works ensured salvation, so that happiness was achieved by human and divine service as well as personal regeneration, in this world as in heaven. That message was known to Lieut. James Cook, through one of his Swedenborgian friends, before sailing for the Pacific in 1768. Twenty years later it came in book form to New South Wales with the First Fleet. Though individual settlers were adherents, the first known service was held at Adelaide in 1844. Societies were established, after some abortive attempts, at Adelaide 1847, Melbourne 1853, Brisbane 1865, Sydney 1875 and Perth 1928.2 Though New Church societies were sect-like and democratic rather than hierarchical or sacerdotal, the annual General Conference had influence overall from 1789 onwards, as well as the Australasian Conference from 1881. A parallel network developed in North America from 1791. The British body became the hub of a global network of independent societies

1 Emanuel Swedenborg, Theological works, 30 vols , Swedenborg Foundation, New York 1954-95; Robin Larsen ed. Emmanuel Swedenborg: The continuing vision, Swedenborg Foundation, New York 1968; George Trobridge, Swedenborg: Life and times, 5th edition, Swedenborg Foundation, New York 1992. 2 See I.A. Robinson, A history of the New Church in Australia 1823-1980, s.n., Melbourne 1980. Unfortunately this study makes little use of the Brisbane records. 49 run by committees of laymen, with or without ministers trained at the New Church College founded in 1852. A magazine was begun in 1790, followed in 1812 by the major New Church Intellectual Repository, which linked the individual societies, as did frequent correspondence.3 This paper traverses the early history of the Brisbane Society from its inauguration in 1865 until the first minister arrived in 1882. It considers the roots in England and the means by which Swedenborgianism was transferred to Queensland, especially by individuals and publications in an evangelical age. At the same time it shows how this new denomination struggled on colonial soil, due to various circumstances including the prejudice of older churches and reaction of the New Church itself, as well as rising spiritualism and secularism.

Swedenborg in England Though Swedenborg lived most of his life in Europe, his doctrines were propagated in England, where he sometimes stayed in London and even died there in 1772, having won converts from the Church of England. Being unable to publish such unorthodox doctrines in his own country he did so in more liberal London, encouraged by friends, but formed no sect himself. English disciples translated his voluminous works from Latin into English and ultimately formed the New Church with a vigorous publishing program which sent treatises, sermons, tracts and journals across the globe. The first translator in 1778 was Thomas Hartley (1708/9-84), followed prolifically by John Clowes (1743-1831). Both were Cambridge- trained and mystically inclined; Hartley knew Swedenborg personally but the younger Clowes did not. This early attachment to Swedenborg's doctrines emerged from an Anglican context. Both Hartley and Clowes were also Anglican clergymen, Hartley in Northamptonshire and Clowes at Manchester. The outcome of their only meeting in London was that Clowes followed Hartley‘s advice and pursued doctrinal and spiritual reform from within the Church of England, as did initially. The charismatic Clowes continued translating, preaching and practising Swedenborgianism, despite opposition from some quarters, and was even offered a bishopric. He opposed the formation of a separate congregation at London in 1787, which was followed by Manchester five years later.4 In this way the New Church inspired by Swedenborg, put down roots in English soil and branched out from the Church of England. Though the early publications by Clowes, including children‘s books, continued to be influential spiritually, it was the next generation of English separatists which affected the formation of societies in Australia; particularly the Revs Robert Hindmarsh, Samuel Noble and Jonathon Bayley as well as the shorthand publicist Isaac Pitman. That was particularly by shipping not only Swedenborgian publications but also ardent adherents from England who reacted to, rather than remained within, the Established Church.

3 New Church, Intellectual repository and New Jerusalem magazine, London 1830-80. 4 Oxford dictionary of national biography, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2004,; Larsen, Emanuel Swedenborg, p.48; New York Times, ‗Hundredth anniversary of Swedenborg Society‘, 8 May 1910; Dennis Duckworth, ‗The last days of the Noble Library‘, New Church Historical Society Journal, 2001, pp.17-19. 50

At the Brisbane end of the New Church network in the 1860s to 1870s, the leading lights were polymath Silvester Diggles, architect Benjamin Backhouse, secretary John Elliott, stationer George Slater and clerk John Garsden, all of whom came from Britain originally. Diggles and Slater were not only members of the New Church at Liverpool and London respectively, but also involved in the initial efforts to found societies at Sydney and Melbourne in the early 1850s. Backhouse was a member at Ipswich and Elliott in Newcastle and then Scotland. Though Garsden came from Accrington, an affected town, Slater apparently converted him at Brisbane.5 Except for Diggles, their connections with the Church of England are not known. He occasionally recorded his views about other denominations, while serving as a professional organist for Anglican and other churches at Birkenhead, Sydney and Brisbane, including St Mary‘s, Kangaroo Point, in the early 1870s. Each of these men had been influenced by Swedenborgian contacts, but also by reading the top authors. In particular, Diggles mentioned Noble, Clowes, Bayley and NC publications, as well as Swedenborg, in his journal from England in 1853 and his letterbook of the 1870s.6 Moreover his second wife Albina (nee Birkett), a former governess in England and then local to Ipswich, corresponded in shorthand with her uncle Pitman at Bath.7 Diggles‘ account of the New Church foundation in Brisbane mentions several men meeting occasionally at architect Backhouse‘s chambers during the early 1860s.8 In 1865, Diggles himself was licensed from London to be leader of the newly-formed Brisbane Society, in lieu of any minister, and served as its first secretary and treasurer. Whereas Backhouse, the next treasurer, left for Sydney in 1868, Diggles continued as leader until 1875 and thereafter as president until his untimely death in 1880. Though influential, his role was limited by many musical, artistic and scientific preoccupations, especially as organist for other churches on Sundays, and then by his mild stroke around Christmas 1875.9 It was the enthusiastic Elliott, as secretary of the Brisbane School of Arts with its library, who was the conduit for Swedenborgian sympathisers and publications. He then activated the society in 1864 to 1865 and chaired its inaugural meeting. After his early death in the next year and another lull in New Church expansion and membership, Slater assisted by Garsden organised evangelical meetings in 1873 which brought the latter to the fore and then the leadership two years later.

5 See biographies in Rod Fisher, Diggles Down Under: Brisbane via Sydney from Merseyside 1855-80, 3 vols & 2 CDs (Brisbane History Group, Brisbane 2003), vol.2, pp.127-35. The kit includes details and sources for this paper unless otherwise cited. 6 Silvester Diggles, Journal 1853-63, Royal Historical Society of Queensland MS; Letterbook 1870-77, National Library of Australia MS 1551; Letters to John Henry Nicholson 1855-73, John Oxley Library OM72 58/1; cf his reading list, Diggles Down Under, vol.3, p.225. 7 See biographies in Diggles Down Under, vol.2, pp.100-6. 8 New Church of Jerusalem, Brisbane Society records, 1865-1915, Fryer Library MSS UQFL321, first minute-book, in Diggles Down Under, vol.3, pp191-3. 9 Diggles Down Under, vol.2, pp.231-7. See also Rod Fisher, Boosting Brisbane: Imprinting the colonial capital of Queensland (Boolarong Press & Brisbane History Group, Brisbane 2009), pp.187-93. 51

Those developments and ensuing newspaper and tract campaigns by the energetic Slater, set the society along the path to obtaining its own building by 1879 and minister in 1882. Consequently his obituary in 1886 stated ‗There was no more familiar name in Queensland that that of George Slater‘, in large part due to his reputation as father of the New Church in Brisbane.10

Diggles in Brisbane In a short account of the ‗rise & progress‘ of the Brisbane Society from 1855 to 1871, Diggles mentioned that he was initially ‗unaware of any persons holding the views of our beloved Church‘. In the next few years, however, he ‗made the acquaintance of several persons who became favorably impressed‘. One of them was named in his journal in December 1857: ‗Mr. Wrigley discloses he is a N.C. man‘. 11 Any religious anonymity was breached in 1860, at the annual general meeting of the School of Arts which discussed the refusal of its preceding committee to accept Swedenborg‘s theological works into the library. These had been offered by Alexander Beazley, a government official and known sympathiser, who returned to Sydney before Queensland separated from NSW in December 1859. According to the Queensland Guardian in the following September, ‗Such a course was well calculated to bring these works into greater notoriety, and to create a desire to peruse them; an object we presume quite opposite to that intended by the committee‘.12 The six members noted in the Brisbane Courier as ‗fitting persons for the trusteeship‘ of the impending volumes, if still rejected by the SofA, were hardly Swedenborgian other than Diggles and Wrigley. Nevertheless they were favourable in the end, including Colonial Architect Charles Tiffin and SofA Secretary John Innes. John S. Beach was an urbane brewer and draper turned Church of England teacher while businessman Robert Cribb was as nonconformist as ever. The latter was on the current committee after Tiffin had resigned, as was Diggles and also his friend, the Congregationalist Rev. George Wight, who happened to be proprietor of the Guardian.13 As Diggles explained in his history, once these works were available in the SofA library at the corner of Queen and Creek Streets, they were introduced to ‗serious & reflecting persons‘, especially after Elliott became secretary in November 1862. Then ‗several receivers‘ made themselves known, including Backhouse and Diggles himself. These men met occasionally at the architect‘s office in Queen Street, until 25 May 1865 when the Brisbane Society was formed at a meeting chaired by Elliott. That and succeeding events are better related in Diggles‘ notes than his history, though each supplements the other.14

10 See also Fisher, Boosting Brisbane, pp.238-43. 11 In Diggles Down Under, vol.3, pp.191-2. 12 The SofA controversy is recounted and documented in ibid. vol.2, p.233 & vol, 3, pp.177-80. 13 See biographies on Wight and Tiffin in ibid. vol.2, pp.124,129; also Beach in forthcoming BHG Papers on pre-Separation Brisbane. 14 In Diggles Down Under, vol.3, pp.181,192. 52

Unlike the initial attempt in Sydney, six men without any women formed the Brisbane Society. Backhouse, Diggles, Slater and Elliott met with Ephraim Stronell, a homeopathic chemist, and John Henry Nicholson, a teacher and later esoteric writer. They appointed Diggles unanimously, as Backhouse had already sent for a licence from the NC Conference, dated 25 November 1864, authorising him ‗to act as leader of the Society in Brisbane, & to administer the Sacraments of & the Holy Supper‘.15 Seven other members joined at their next meeting chaired by Diggles on 15 June 1865, including young railway engineer Edward F. Hart and stock-and-station agent John Fenwick who became well known in public and masonic circles. Except for Stronell perhaps, all members were friends of Diggles especially Hart, Nicholson, Elliott and Backhouse.16 The first recorded sacramental service was held on 11 March 1866 at Elliott‘s home when Diggles baptised the secretary‘s two girls and his own two boys, followed by Holy Supper and ‗A conversation on practical topics‘. This time, the wives of Diggles and, Elliott were present as well as Backhouse, Slater, Nicholson and clerk Henry W. Haseler.17 Otherwise quarterly meetings handled business, including correspondence with other societies, while weekly meetings incorporated portions of the liturgy, sermons from the Repository, lectures published by Rev. Dr Jonathon Bayley and ‗animated conversation‘ on various topics including ‗our future movements‘. Backhouse, who replaced Diggles as treasurer in June 1867, presented: ‗A handsomely finished Box for holding the Word, the Liturgy &c.‘, which doubled as a reading desk, while Slater donated a small reference Bible ‗handsomely bound‘.18 Diggles dealt with much of the early business as leader, secretary and treasurer. A subscription was soon raised ‗for Books from the Printing & Tract Societies‘. In 1866-67 he corresponded with the New Church Conference about the society and noted the desirability of sending an annual report to England by March for their publication. In April 1867 he replied to a letter from the Adelaide Society, after meeting with Backhouse and Fenwick, about Swedenborg‘s view on whether the Lord sent traitorous Judas with his disciples throughout the world. In response to Adelaide‘s urging about regular meetings, he obtained a suitable room in the new Town Hall in Queen Street.19 In April 1866, Diggles paid a special visit to Ipswich to baptise two of Hart‘s sons, followed in September 1869 by his daughter at Newmarket. He eulogised the religious demeanour of his young friend after attending the consumptive‘s deathbed in July 1871.20 Among the newcomers, who later became members, were two of his musical friends, the ex-marine engineer and first town clerk William M. Boyce and cattle inspector Patrick R. Gordon.21

15 See biographies in ibid. vol.2, pp.127-34. 16 See biographies in Ibid. vol.2, p.119-34 17 In Diggles Down Under, vol.3, p.192. 18 Ibid. vol.3, pp.192-3. 19 Ibid. vol.3, p.192. 20 Ibid. vol.3, pp.192-3. 21 See biographies in Diggles Down Under, vol.2, p.126-7,135-6.. 53

Ultimately a meeting in August 1871 at Fenwick‘s Queen St office, which Diggles was unable to attend, decided to call a general meeting which the leader chaired on 3 September. In order to put the Society on ‗a more satisfactory basis‘ it proposed a £100 stipend for a minister from England. Diggles, Fenwick and Blakiston Robinson drafted the letter to Bayley who had been made Australian correspondent of the New Church Conference in 1860. The long epistle signed by Diggles and published in the Repository in 1872 advertised the advantages of voyaging to salubrious Brisbane and ministering to about twenty-five members, inquirers and isolated receivers or current attendees at other churches.22 In October 1871, Diggles wrote optimistically to his friend Nicholson, who was teaching at rural Springsure, that progress was being made among farmers – presumably Germans around Brisbane to whom Mrs Johanna Reinholdt, the first woman on the members‘ roll, was lending Swedenborgian books; also that he had added a valuable member from the southside.23 In March 1872 he also replied hopefully to Mrs Morgan, an English lady whose missing son he managed to trace in the outback, with agent Fenwick‘s assistance.24 Despite ongoing activity, the society‘s sessions on Thursday evenings were irregular and attended by only three to ten members in the period to June 1867. Nor was there any financial prospect of obtaining a minister or missionary, even on a shared basis with another colonial society. Of the early enthusiasts, Hart died a lingering death in July as had Elliott in 1866, Backhouse left for Sydney by December 1868 and Diggles was otherwise occupied with his ornithology and organ-playing. He later recorded that ‗The meetings were continued until the hot weather set in, when they were discontinued‘, apparently during the extreme summer of 1867-68.25 The society hit the front page of the Brisbane Courier on 25 January 1873 with a simple advertisement: ‗FRIENDS of ―THE NEW CHURCH‖ are invited to meet in the Town Hall Chamber of Commerce, on SUNDAY, January 26 at 3 o‘clock‘. More unusual was the newspaper report, two days later, that New Church principles had been explained to about thirty attendees who also left their names. Future services on Sundays were to be held at 3pm for members and 7pm for enlightening the public. The report called this a ‗resuscitation‘ of the society and mentioned some details about Swedenborg and that his works were then available in the SofA library.26 Most startling was a letter in the Telegraph signed as ‗GO AGAIN‘. Disregarding the admonition of ‗a celebrated divine‘, apparently Benjamin G. Wilson of the Wharf St Baptist Church, he had found the service to be free from ‗that priestly and dogmatic arrogance so rampant in the pulpits of our city‘ – nor any smell of ‗fire and brimstone‘. One might suspect this too was Swedenborgian publicity.27

22 In Diggles Down Under, vol.3, pp.181-2. 23 In ibid. vol.3, p.85. 24 Ibid, vol.2, p.235. 25 In ibid. vol.3, pp.192-3. 26 In ibid. vol.3, p.182. 27 Ibid. 54

Those responsible for that campaign emerged at a meeting of five members chaired by Diggles as leader on 3 February 1873. Slater explained that he and the newly-converted Garsden had called the Town Hall services. These had indicated ‗that a successful attempt might now be made to bring the Society into active operation‘.28 On that Sunday and the next, meetings were conducted in the afternoon by Diggles and evening by Garsden. After endorsing this initiative, the meeting set about admitting no less than eleven new members including Garsden, and Diggles‘ friends Boyce and Gordon.29 With new blood coursing through its veins, the society was formalised by rules based on the Adelaide body, as cited by Diggles, drafted by him and Garsden and adopted at two meetings in March.30 An adjourned general meeting also elected a committee until the first AGM in April when ten members elected Diggles as leader, Slater as treasurer, Fenwick as secretary and five committee members including Garsden.31 As well as chairing these meetings, Diggles was appointed at the AGM to a committee of three to select Swedenborgian books for purchase. At the July quarterly meeting he also agreed ‗to prepare a list of suitable tunes‘ for improving the singing at services. The society then decided to continue advertising Sunday services at 11am and 7pm plus Sunday School at 3pm. It also appointed a committee of four, including Slater and Garsden to publish a series on ‗N.C. truths‘ in the weekly Queenslander, causing ‗much sensation in the country districts‘. Several years later, Slater also sent some 500 tracts to ministers and teachers throughout the colony.32 At the same AGM in April 1873, Diggles acknowledged the ‗valuable services of Messrs Slater and Garsden in conducting the past services of the Society‘. However, the replacement of a first withdrawn motion, that he be leader for twelve months, with a request for him to retain office under the existing licence from England, indicates some personal reluctance overcome by persuasion from his proposers Slater and Fenwick.33 Though he continued to chair meetings, conduct services and administer sacraments, the committee and officers took over management. John W. Carey from the Society had charge of books and music, and an organist was employed to play the new £35 harmonium. In 1874 to 1875, this was Diggles‘ artistic niece and protege, Rowena Birkett from Sydney.34 According to the next AGM report in April 1874, ‗Each service comprises Prayers and Thanksgiving from the N.C. Liturgy, hymns from the N.C. Hymn Book, the reading of the Word, and a sermon or lecture from some approved N.C. publication‘. Advertisements for Sunday evening services publicised the scheduled spiritual, moral and interpretive subjects. However, Diggles‘ duties as organist elsewhere meant he could not conduct most of the services. This caused a sacramental problem for the

28 Ibid. 29 See biographies in Diggles Down Under, vol.2, pp.126-7, 135-6. 30 In ibid. vol.3, pp.193-4. 31 In ibid. vol.3, p.183. 32 In ibid. vol.3, pp.183,189. 33 In Ibid. vol.3, p.163. 34 See biographies in ibid. vol.1, pp.101-2. 55 congregation of twenty-three members, with an average attendance of twenty in the morning and fifty, including many non-members, at night.35 A more workable arrangement emanated from that AGM when about 100 persons took tea at the Town Hall after 500 circulars had been distributed. Diggles opened from the chair with ‗a few remarks on the Relation of Science and Religion contrasting ... the Old and New Churches‘. Then Slater and Garsden were elected as readers, while Diggles was titled president rather than leader, with Gordon as vice-president.36 That solution was still unsatisfactory. As Diggles informed Nicholson in October 1874, he could only officiate at quarterly sacramental services in the afternoon, such as the previous Sunday ‗when about 20 persons sat down to the table afterwards. Baptism was administered to 6 children‘. 37 It is no wonder the next AGM in April 1875 received Diggles‘ letter of resignation. This was read by Slater, who adroitly proposed him for president again but Garsden as leader, whom a report in the Repository praised as ‗indefatigable in his work for the advancement of this Society‘. Gordon remained vice-president with Slater as treasurer and one of the readers. Diggles was evidently absent and decreasingly mentioned in subsequent minutes.38 Meanwhile societal, vocational and scientific pressures were raising his stress level, which brought on his mild stroke.39 The society‘s resuscitation also had ramifications for accommodating its activities. Apart from cost and amenity, the main criterion was a central location in town. As stated in the first annual report for 1873-74: ‗The peculiar nature of our work in the Christian world renders it specially desirable that our place of meeting should be easy of access to strangers, enquirers, and members of the Old Church‘.40 In June 1867, after small meetings mostly in architect Backhouse‘s chambers in Queen St, Diggles obtained the use of ‗a handsome & airy room in the Town Hall free of expense‘. From 1873 onwards the society rented the upstairs Chamber of Commerce in that imposing Renaissance- style edifice in Queen Street for its meetings on Sundays – also its library of almost 200 books by April 1874, including Swedenborg and the best New Church authors. During the preceding year, over 140 books had been borrowed and 3000 tracts distributed at the close of meetings or by members.41 In August 1875 the society decided to move to larger, cheaper and more convenient quarters in the Temperance Hall, at the corner of Edward and Ann Streets. Slater, a great abstinence advocate, was the go-between. Built in 1869, that sombre brick box had two meeting rooms at its gabled front facing Edward Street. After a year‘s occupation, the committee decided a board at the entrance facing Edward Street should be lettered ‗New Jerusalem Church. Public Worship in the morning at 11, evening at 7'.

35 In ibid. vol.3, p.184 36 Ibid. 37 In Ibid., vol.3, p.92. 38 In ibid. vol.3, pp.185-6. 39 Ibid. vol.1, pp.26,43-4. 40 In ibid. vol.3, p.184. 41 In ibid. vol.3, pp.182-4,192 56

Other venues used for larger tea meetings and AGMs were McLeod‘s buildings in Edward St and Sleath‘s music warehouse in George St.42 Shortly after relocating, Henry Sleath moved at a quarterly meeting in January 1876 that ‗the time had now arrived for an effort to be made, to obtain funds, to purchase a piece of ground, whereon at some future time to build a Church‘. As the building fund grew in the next two years, the society accepted an offer on 10 July 1878 from Brown, Lihou and Richardson, Lihou being a member, to lend £500 for purchasing and building on Wickham Terrace adjacent to the Lutheran Church and opposite All Saints' Church of England.43 The style and cost of the building itself were referred to another member, whose contracting firm of Lovelock Bros won the tender for a timber Gothic church-hall costing £259, of which £189 was held in the building fund. The total cost including gas fitting and fencing was only £140 above the loan of £500. The multi-purpose building was finally opened with little fanfare on 5 January 1879.44 Having gained its own premises, the society renewed its effort to obtain a minister as the panacea for all ills. In 1880 the Repository reported that it had notified the New Church Conference of a guarantee of £100 annually, and possibly more, that ‗some young and energetic minister who has no regular appointment might venture here‘. Ultimately the Rev. W. Alfred Bates and family arrived on 10 November 1882, to be formally welcomed eleven days later at a tea-meeting of about 120 persons.45 On that historic occasion, Garsden recalled the tentativeness of their formative decade since 1873: ‗I may say that only faint hopes were entertained of successfully establishing a Society in the City of Brisbane & the most sanguine did not hope that a Society could be kept together for ten years still less of living to see the time when a Minister would be at its head‘. 46

Drawbacks and failures In his 1897 history of the New Church in NSW, Rev. Joseph Thornton, who had first arrived in 1878 to minister at Melbourne, considered causes of the initial failure at Sydney in the 1850s: ‗Among them the following appear to have been the most potent:– want of a minister; want of a place of meeting; want of New Church literature; and, possibly, want of defence against assailing evils‘.47 That the first three drawbacks also affected the Brisbane society is apparent from the preceding saga. To those, however, might be added other internal causes which emerge from its records. Apart from reiterating the necessity for a minister to conduct due services and sacraments, there were continual complaints about the liturgy being unattractive and periodic efforts to improve its standard of music. That interacted with other issues at the quarterly meeting on 2 January 1876 when William Reinholdt, of German origin, ‘suggested that the Liturgy now used did not find so much favor with the Congregation as previous to the introduction of additional responses, & the person officiating and the

42 In ibid. vol.3, pp.185--6. 43 In ibid. vol.3, pp.185-7. 44 In ibid. vol.3, pp.187-8. 45 In ibid. vol.3, pp.188-9. 46 In ibid. vol.3, pp.189-90. 47 In ibid. vol.3, p.179. 57

Congregation reading alternate verses in the Psalms.' He complained also of the wording of one of the prayers for this ―Kingdom‖; he held that in the first place the word Kingdom was incorrect applied to this country, and secondly, that it was unnecessary to pray especially for the British Nation, as the Congregation are not all of the same Nationality‘. Though Reinholdt was backed by other members, Garsden and Slater dodged the cultural issue and argued more cogently that the improved liturgy facilitated greater congregational participation.48 This episode also shows there were serious divisions within the society which affected its progress. According to the despondent annual report for 1876-77: ‗Our deficiency seems to be unity – We ought, as a New Church Society to be more closely bound together by brotherly love‘. Furthermore the report for 1879-80 specified: ‗Our desertion by nearly all the more influential and wealthy of our Society‘ in the context of providing better music and an eloquent minister. That was the gist of a speech by John Nicholson, one of the six founding members in 1865, at the welcoming party in 1882: ‗Some of the flock have unfortunately wandered off to other folds & I have found some old sheep who have forgotten that a sheep is gregarious. I think we have all forgotten .... Mr Bates has to form us into what we have never been before – a Church – and a Church whose members will, I trust, be recognised as disciples of Christ by the love they bear one another‘.49 One of those other external attractions was the increasing practice of communicating with spirits of the dead. As early as January 1865, Diggles queried its influence in a letter to Nicholson and advised that seances were best left alone. The eventual outcome, as reported in 1880, was ‗the withdrawal of several of our oldest adherents, who have unhappily been led away by the delusions of spiritism‘. The infatuation of those ‘misguided people‘ was deplored and lamented, in the hope that they would realise its shallowness and be weaned from such ‗absurdities‘.50 That was probably an issue which Thornton had in mind when he identified the fourth drawback as ―want of defence against assailing evils‘. He also alluded to another external factor in stating that ‗in those days prejudice ran very high‘.51 Sectarianism was certainly rife in Brisbane, as elsewhere, between Protestant and Catholic, Nonconformist and Anglican and Swedenborgian versus the rest – heightened by the tussle over state aid to religious education in the 1860s and ongoing controversial Anglo- Catholic tendencies in the Church of England. In particular, the Congregational Rev. George Wight published a letter in March 1861, which went into the Diggles scrapbook, against those led by the Anglican bishop who promoted sectarianism rather than religious and educational equality.52 This tension influenced the opening of the New Church on Wickham Terrace on 4 December 1879, the committee being ‘in favor of doing so quietly and making no public demonstration of any kind‘. More apparent

48 In ibid. vol.3, p.185. 49 In ibid. vol.3, pp.186,190. 50 In ibid. vol.3, pp.80,188-9. 51 Ibid. vol.1, p.293. 52 Queensland Guardian 25 March 1861, in Diggles Scrapbook, 1830s-90s, Diggles Family Collection, vol.1, p.98. 58 was the letter to the Telegraph in 1873, by one who would ‗Go Again‘ to a New Church service which was ‗without that priestly and dogmatic arrogance so rampant in the pulpits of our city at the present time‘, the only allusion to other sects being ‗that persons the most opposed to them were those that least understood their views and doctrines‘.53 Perception of the New Church as an interloper, if not a rather unorthodox Christian sect, no doubt affected the attitude of other religionists and hence the refusal of some committee members to accept the donation of Swedenborg‘s works at the School or Arts in 1860 – not that this difficulty was unique, as it also occurred in the same year at Diggles‘ hometown of Birkenhead in England.54 On the other hand, there was a thread of colonial secularism, whereby even the ardent nonconformist Henry Jordan thought the SofA policy excluded theological works of any kind. In the end, freedom of thought won the day and the Swedenborgians gained the advantages of publicity and proselytisation.55 It also seems likely that more detrimental than local prejudice against the New Church was its own mission, as a relatively new offshoot of the Church of England, to reform the old church and society at large. If ‗Go Again‘ was a Swedenborgian rather than a genuine inquirer, that letter might say more about its chip-on the-shoulder in relation to the older churches than overt religious prejudice. After all, most of its adherents were ardent converts from one denomination or another. As John Garsden stated in reviewing the past decade at the tea meeting in 1882: ‘I was at that time a new convert full of hope & firmly believing that the masses were thirsting for the truths I had so recently found. I have lived to learn that this is not so. It behoves, us however, to labor on to spread the truth‘.56 In this regard, Silvester Diggles, who had a Congregational background with some Anglican exposure, provides a more insightful case. In October 1871, Diggles wrote to Nicholson, his Swedenborgian friend, that ‗Science & Dogmatic Theology are at open war & nothing but our system of interpretation can possibly reconcile modern deducing of Science with the ordinary systems of belief‘.57 That was the only belief system which brought everything together, including his own diverse interests, into a total view of the natural and spiritual world. As he opined to the Quaker J. Ridley Walker at Hobart in July 1876, ‗the old church is in a state of Darkness‘.58 On one occasion, in March 1872, Diggles wrote to Nicholson that ‗We ought to be very cautious in introducing those parts of our system as are likely to be opposed to the prejudices of the uninitiated‘.59 More often, however, he grasped any chance to promote his religion, particularly after Darwinism reared its evolutionary head, as the sole means of reconciliation: ‗I do not fail to urge this fact whenever I have a favourable opportunity &

53 In Diggles Down Under, vol.3, pp.182,187. 54 NC Intellectual repository, vol.7, 1860, p.28; compare the unnamed SofA gentleman who mentioned the ‗highly prejudicial‘ sectarianism at similar institutions in Manchester, Bradford, Stirling and Glasgow, in Diggles Down Under, vol.3, p.180. 55 In Diggles Down Under, vol.3, pp.179-80. 56 In ibid. vol,3, p.190. 57 In ibid. vol.3, p. 85. 58 In ibid. vol.3, p.95. 59 In ibid. vol.3, p.87, 59 my observations (of course cautiously administered) generally meet with respect‘.60 As early as day 16 in 1853, aboard the Willem Ernst to Sydney, Diggles not only lent Noble‘s Appeal but also ‗Had an animated argument with the ship‘s steward on the doctrine of the resurrection, & afterwards on the Trinity‘. Day 51 included ‗an animated conversation‘ with the Martins, the only other couple, ‗proving the Superiority of the N.C. views‘, and a further talk with the steward on day 58 about Christ‘s Second Coming and the Resurrection. While the steward remained unconvinced, Diggles wrote knowingly on day 16: ‗Better meet objections, & overcome them one by one, which work though slow is sure, than have an unthinking assent given to your propositions‘. Otherwise such persons would always be ‗unstable converts‘ and tossed about ‗with every wind of Doctrine‘. 61 In later years, Diggles was most forthright in corresponding with Nicholson. In December 1868 he wrote that a lecture at Wickham Terrace Presbyterian Church on the Second Coming was quite nonsensical. When Rev. James Love asked for his organist‘s opinion, Diggles expounded Swedenborgian-based criticism of the lecturer‘s approach in using figurative instead of plain passages to illustrate difficult or equally figurative biblical passages.62 Diggles wrote further in October 1874 that Rev. David Court of St Mary's Church of England at Kangaroo Point was fully aware of his organist‘s views, ‗but he has not meddled with me as yet‘; nevertheless ‗I am always ready to give a reason for the views I hold, & have had many occasions to defend the truth against the Pharisees‘ whose dogmatic conduct he despised. In fact a ‗good friend‘ had said that ‗Mr. Diggles gives such fervent strong blows it is of no use arguing with him‘.63 Diggles scarcely mentioned any Protestant denomination specifically, other than that Presbyterian lecturer in December 1868 whose views on the Second Coming of Christ were ‗full of the greatest nonsense imaginable‘. Worse were those Anglicans who hankered after superiority, like the Established Church in England. Hence the cutting in his family scrapbook of a letter by ‗Clericus‘, published by the Brisbane Courier on 10 April 1866, which also lauded the high-church ritual at All Saints' Church, Wickham Terrace. This article caused Diggles to label it ‗A tissue of garbled statements, in fact barefaced lies‘ – as shown by a heated response on the 16th by ‗Evangelist‘. That writer accused Rev. John Bliss of ruinous ritualism, little short of idolatry, instead of fortifying his flock with pure religion against apathy and Romanism.64 Almost beyond the pale were the Catholics. Whereas ‗An honest & good heart ... will drink in the truth like water‘, Diggles wrote to Nicholson in February 1872, ‗[i]t is seldom you can do much with R. Caths‘. That harked back to day 121 en route to Australia in 1853: ‘Read an account of Tahiti & was particularly disgusted at the mean & pitiful way in which the French interfered to establish fooleries & mummeries of Popery for the

60 In ibid. vol.3, p.85. 61 Diggles, Journal, 1853-54. 62 In Diggles Down Under, vol.3, pp.80-1. 63 In ibid, vol.4, p.92-3. 64 Brisbane Courier 10 & 16 April 1866, in Diggles Scrapbook, vol.2, pp.68-9. 60 better though not perfect system of Religion which they [the Islanders] had embraced‘.65 Though imbued with nonconformist prejudice and dazzled by New Church light, Diggles could still appreciate a range of individual religious adherence. That was consonant with the Swedenborgian toleration of many paths to salvation. Thus he associated with individual churchmen including clergy, particularly the Congregationalist George Wight, Presbyterians Thomas Mowbray and James Love, Anglican David Court (who was ‗a good man‘) – and even Bliss, sometime secretary of Qld Philosophical Society, the scientific association which Diggles activated.66 Nevertheless the New Church letter for a minister from England in September 1871 stated ‗that the pulpits, with few exceptions, are not supplied by any talent of more than ordinary calibre‘.67 This was one reason why that letter, signed by Diggles as leader, considered that ‗the New Church has a favorable ground for extending her mission to this place‘. The other was that, unlike Victoria and NSW, most of the inhabitants wished to make Queensland their home, so that ‗There is an absence of that speculative and roving disposition found in those colonies, where people meet for the sake of making rapid fortunes by trade or gold seeking, and a more regular attendance to Divine Worship and Sunday School‘. All the same there were other colonial difficulties as many were ‗in the habit of attending other places of worship for the sake of their children and the maintenance of order‘, their ‗means being pretty well absorbed by the requirements of their families‘. Subsequent annual reports lamented that members not only moved elsewhere but were also scattered over a wide area.68 As well as facing these social, demographic and geographical realities, the New Church had to make inroads into a field where the older better-endowed churches had already staked their claim. That applied particularly to the town area, as described in the ministerial missive of 1871:

The population of Brisbane is supposed to be about 12,000. The Roman Catholics, most of whom are from Ireland, are numerous, and have a bishop [James Quinn] and a large staff of priests, many of whom are Italians. The Church of England numerically forms the most influential denomination – Dr [Edward] Tuffnell being the Bishop, with five Churches in the city,– besides one ‗Free‘ Church of England. The Presbyterians have three places of worship. The Wesleyans and Baptists in their various subdivisions are fairly represented, and, with the Independents, number seven or eight Churches more.69

Considering all of those internal and external disabilities, it is surprising that the struggling society survived, let alone obtained its building and minister by 1882. Along the way it also gained ‗a recognised existence‘ according to

65 Diggles Down Under, vol.2, pp.300-1; Diggles, Journal, 1853-54. 66 See biographies in Diggles Down Under, vol.2. pp.123-4,143-4. 67 In ibid. vol.3, p.182. 68 E.g. Ibid. vol.3, 186-7. 69 In ibid. vol.3, 181-2. 61 the annual report in April 1879, having been legally incorporated, thanks to the free work by Charles S. Mein, a later member and judge.70 Though the Brisbane society found a niche in the religious spectrum of Brisbane, which was put into perspective by the 1881 census for Queensland, it recorded a mere 96 New Church persons among 216 members of Other Christian Sects in a Brisbane District total of 30,952 (0.3%), compared with 10,404 other Nonconformists (33.7%), 11,677 Church of England (37.7%), 8158 Roman Catholic (26.4%), 119 Hebrew, 114 Mohamedan & Pagan, 124 Other Religions etc.71 Little wonder the annual report for 1878-79 concluded ‗that up to the present the Society in its struggle for bare existence has had to devote its attention exclusively to its own organisation‘.72

70 In ibid, vol.3, p.188. See biography in ibid, vol.2, pp.146-7. 71 Queensland Registrar-General, Census of Queensland 1881: Report, Government Printer, Brisbane 1882. 72 In Diggles Down Under, vol.3, p.188. 62

The significance of the bush brotherhoods to Australian Anglicanism

Ruth Frappell Macquarie University

Writers sympathetic to the ideals of the bush brotherhoods (JWS Tomlin, JWC Wand, RAF Webb, all Englishmen) have pronounced them to be „unique‟, a totally Australian version of the religious life for men. This is not strictly so: they had roots in the formation of religious orders in the , in the missions conducted by great public schools in port cities like London and Portsmouth, and in the five-year service plan adopted by Bishop WTT Webber in Brisbane in the 1880s. What they did do was to build upon the imperial fervour and missionary zeal of the decade before the First World War, but they never attracted Australian- born and educated priests in any numbers. Their significance lies in their widespread introduction of a „down-to-earth‟ brand of Anglo-Catholicism (noting their want of success in dioceses of an evangelical bent), in their staffing of boys‟ secondary schools in Queensland and through the bush brothers who became bishops. Since the 1960s, however, they have declined almost to insignificance, due to the reluctance of young Australians to delay marriage and to serve in the bush, for Australia is a more urbanized society than it was a century ago.

In his retirement, J W C Wand, archbishop of Brisbane in 1934-43, published a book entitled Anglicanism in History and Today. It was a far- ranging, general study, elegantly and fluently written. In it Wand asserted that [The Church of England in Australia] has set up an intimacy between priest and people such as is hardly enjoyed in any other part of the Anglican communion. In this result the Bush Brotherhoods (small groups of clergy dedicated under temporary vows to the task of taking the Church's ministrations to the more lonely dwellers in the out-back) have played a noble and conspicuous part. In fact, it is a joke of the country that some of its more remote highways must have been laid down for the exclusive use of the Bush Brother and the mail-man . . . [Australia] has its own particular version of [community life] in the Bush Brotherhoods that do invaluable work in areas too remote for ordinary parochial organization.1

Wand impressed on his readers that the bush brotherhoods, with their emphasis on community life and their temporary vows, were an Australian manifestation of Anglo-Catholicism. What neither the author nor his readers understood in 1961, was that for Anglo-Catholicism in general and for the bush brotherhoods in particular, the sun was already beginning to set.

The first bush brotherhoods The first bush brotherhoods, the five formed in the years between 1897 and 1914, set the pattern for these communities, but they did not all serve

1 J.W.C.Wand, Anglicanism in History and Today, London, Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 2nd ed, 1963, pp. 37, 193. 63 continuously. They were the Brotherhood of St Andrew (1897; disbanded around 1914, reconstituted in 1931), in the diocese of Rockhampton, based at Longreach, then at Winton; the Brotherhood of St Barnabas (1902), in the diocese of North Queensland, based at Herberton and Cloncurry; the brotherhood in the diocese of Brisbane, formed first at Gayndah around 1902, then at Charleville in 1905, and in 1934 rededicated as the brotherhood of St Paul, at Wand's instigation; the Brotherhood of the Good Shepherd (1903), diocese of Bathurst, based at Dubbo; and the Brotherhood of St Boniface (1911-1929), diocese of Bunbury, based at Williams in the pastoral districts in the south of Western Australia. Members of these brotherhoods took temporary vows, for five years, though in the 1950s and 1960s, the term was reduced to three. Their vows were three-fold: vows of poverty, celibacy and obedience, to the principal or warden of the order. Each brotherhood had a central house, in a town within its area of responsibility and each was confined to one particular diocese. Ideally but rarely, the brothers travelled in pairs, and returned to their central house every quarter for regular reunions, so as to combat the loneliness associated with all bush ministries. They were funded primarily by auxiliaries in the United Kingdom, run by relatives of their founders and later by returned bush brothers themselves, and sporadically by their host diocese. Only one, the brotherhood of the Good Shepherd at Dubbo, had a fund-raising auxiliary in its state capital. Other authors, less prominent than Wand, have written with hindsight about the brotherhoods. They were all Englishmen and all in holy orders. They have included C H S Matthews (a founding Good Shepherd brother), J W S Tomlin (principal of St Francis Theological College, Brisbane in 1906-1909), B P Robin (a member of the Brotherhood of St Barnabas in North Queensland, recalled to Australia in 1942 to become bishop of Adelaide), G T Berwick (sometime dean of Perth) and R A F Webb (who joined the brotherhood of the Good Shepherd in 1961). Their publications were often celebratory, brought out to mark various anniversaries; they were not intended to be critical studies.2 They too considered that the brotherhoods were inspired by the Tractarian and Anglo- Catholic movements in the United Kingdom and that they were unique to Australia. There are no comparable studies by Australian-born bush brothers, in part because those Australians who did join were not university graduates or fluent writers.

The origins of the brotherhoods in England A detailed study of the origins of the brotherhoods suggests that they drew upon two sources, of equal significance: upon English institutions

2 C H S Matthews, A Parson in the Australian Bush, London, 1908; B P Robin, The Sundowner, London 1922, to mark the 25th anniversary of the brotherhood of St Andrew, Longreach; J W S Tomlin, The Story of the Bush Brotherhoods, London, 1949 and G T Berwick, The Birth of the Bush Brotherhoods, Sevenoaks, Kent, 1947, for the Rockhampton auxiliary, the Australian Bush Brotherhoods Commissaries‘ Council, both written to mark the 50th anniversary of the first bush brotherhood; R A F Webb, Brothers in the Sun: a history of the Bush Brotherhood movement in the outback of Australia., Adelaide, 1978. 64 established in the second half of the nineteenth century and upon the local experience of English-born diocesan bishops appointed to Australian sees. The Oxford movement in England and the subsequent Anglo- Catholic revival encouraged a renewal of community life for men (and for women). They also gave rise to institutions such as the university settlements in the east end of London, including Toynbee Hall (1884) and Oxford House (1885) in Bethnal Green, an offshoot of Keble College, Oxford, and public school foundations like the Eton mission in Hackney Wick and the Winchester mission in Portsmouth.3 The type of men who in the 1880s joined these foundations, were later attracted to the brotherhoods – men from public schools and university colleges. Hence the early brotherhood reunions resembled middle and senior common rooms (with blokey humour to match) and the arrival of the English mails became 'red letter' days. Moreover, imperial fervour and missionary zeal throughout the Empire reached its zenith in 1897 with the celebrations of the diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria, which coincided with the formation, at Longreach, of the first bush brotherhood. The romantic aura which became associated with the brotherhoods in England is well captured in the recruiting speech made by George Frodsham, bishop of North Queensland, in Oxford in 1908, which is quoted in most secondary accounts of the brotherhoods: ‗O for a band of men that will preach like Apostles, ride like cowboys, and having food and raiment will therewith be content.‘4 This scenario was a myth, but it was used by bishops from Frodsham to Ian Shevill in the 1950s and 1960s, to attract young men from England with a healthy sense of adventure. Published accounts of the brotherhoods, therefore, pay deferential tribute to the English church leaders who supported them. Frodsham spoke in Oxford at the invitation of the bishop of London, A F Winnington- Ingram, head of Oxford House in 1888-97, who, throughout his long episcopate, encouraged many young clergy to come to Australia. Others included Brooke Foss Westcott, bishop of Durham, first president of the Christian Social Union, , founder of the Community of the Resurrection and Canon George Body of Durham. (The first bush brother, George Dowglass Halford came from Durham.)

Australian origins One consequence of stressing English precedents was that the more down- to-earth Australian experience of bush ministry was downplayed. Australians knew what the bush was like; they understood its heat and its loneliness, the cruelties of fire and flood, the absence of women and children, the consequences of thirst and what was termed 'heat stroke'. Sensational accounts appeared regularly in such publications as The Australian Town and Country Journal. The Bulletin, known as the 'bushman's bible', caricatured bush clergy as beggars and misfits. Young Australians did not want to go there, and one archbishop of Brisbane,

3 Alan Wilkinson, The Community of the Resurrection. A Centenary History (London, SCM Press, 1992); R M Frappell, ‗The Australian Bush Brotherhoods and their English Origins‘, Journal of Ecclesiastical History 47, 1, 1996, pp.82-97. 4 For example, J. O. Feetham and W V Rymer (eds), North Queensland Jubilee Book 1878- 1928, Townsville, McGilvray & Co., printers, 1929, p.14. 65

Gerald Sharp, was forced to drive some of his ordinands out west, under the claim of obedience.5 It was the experience of English-born bishops whose sees contained immense tracts of bush that inspired the brotherhoods. Here are some examples. Soon after his arrival in Queensland, W T T Webber, bishop of Brisbane (1885-1903), initiated a 'foreign service order' or 'five-year plan', to attract English clergy to his diocese, men in priests orders with experience in the large industrial cities of the English midlands and port cities like London, Portsmouth and Liverpool. The conditions under which these men came – and they were for the most part, upper middle class, university graduates – set the terms of brotherhood service. One of Webber's initial 'five-year plan' men was Nathaniel Dawes, appointed as Webber's coadjutor in 1889, the first Anglican bishop consecrated in Australia. In 1892 Dawes became the first bishop of Rockhampton. It was he who actually coined the term 'bush brotherhood' and who also, in the militaristic language of the day, called for an Oxford or Cambridge-style mission 'in the bush as well as in East London, Africa and India' and suggested Longreach, Charleville and Roma a possible centres for such a 'flying squadron of Clergy and Laymen', engaged in 'aggressive Christianity'.6 In New South Wales, Charles Camidge, the second bishop of Bathurst, appointed his domestic chaplain as rector of Dubbo in 1901 and two years later personally bought the land in Dubbo and gave it to the brotherhood, the land on which the original Brotherhood House was built. In Western Australia, the brotherhood established in 1911 in the Williams district of the diocese of Bunbury, was inspired by the foundation bishop of that see, also an Anglo-Catholic, Frederick Goldsmith; his nephew and domestic chaplain later became warden and its brotherhood house was the gift of (Dame) Monica Wills, widow of the tobacco magnate.7 The experience of the early brotherhoods before 1914 gave rise to a discussion, at their 1913 reunion in Brisbane, an event not repeated till 1947, of whether brotherhoods should be permanent or merely a means to an end, the re-introduction or imposition of the parochial system. Some brotherhood heads, especially Halse of the brotherhood of St Barnabas, wanted them made a permanent and dominating force in Australia, and even called for them to embrace whole dioceses, with the cathedral as the brotherhood house. Others, like the Reverend Herbert Puxley, head of the Charleville brotherhood, foresaw the introduction of agricultural and closer settlement and the spread of railways, and believed brotherhoods would be replaced by parishes, with married clergy in major towns.8 The question of the permanency of brotherhoods was left open in 1913, but it was very nearly answered by the decline in volunteers from the United Kingdom during the first world war.

5 J W C Wand, Changeful Page: the autobiography of , London, 1965, p.132. 6 Dawes to Webber, 9 April 1892, Year Book, diocese of Brisbane ,1892, p.58. 7 Colin Holden, Ritualist on a Tricycle. Frederick Goldsmith, Nedlands, University of Western Australia Press, 1997, chapter 12. 8 Church Standard, 26 Sept 1913; Bush Brother (Dubbo), Oct 1913; H L Puxley, ‗Bush Brotherhoods in Queensland‘, The East and the West, vol 5 (1907), p. 268. 66

The interwar years and beyond The initial successes of the brotherhoods led to the notion that brotherhoods were 'the only feasible plan' for bush ministry.9 In the interwar years, many dioceses which were evangelical in outlook tried to form brotherhoods, which did not last. They proved to be one-man bands, the dreams of their founders who had no successors. Some included laymen, reading for orders, on indefinite contracts, and the majority of their members were Australian-born and educated. They included brotherhoods based at Kyogle in the new diocese of Grafton, at Hastings in the diocese of Melbourne, at Tailem Bend in the diocese of Adelaide, at Port Pirie in the diocese of Willochra and at Manangatang in the diocese of St Arnaud. The districts in which they worked were mostly more closely settled than the pastoral districts in which brotherhoods had been founded: some were in dairying country where traditionally Methodism had been strong. After the Great War, the idea of imperial loyalty waned and the number of brotherhood recruits from the United Kingdom declined dramatically. Some did come, and those who stayed often became bishops, high churchmen like A L Wylde of Bathurst, T M Armour of Wangaratta and S H Davies of Carpentaria. The relative stability of the brotherhood of St Barnabas owed much to its links with the Society of the Sacred Mission, pioneered in 1913 by . Attempts to attract Australians, like the training scheme in the diocese of Bathurst initiated at St John's College Morpeth by Merrick Long, the Australian-born bishop of the see, were only marginally successful. Young Australians were never given to taking vows, and vows of celibacy for five years or even longer were particularly unattractive. The other notable feature of the interwar years was that brotherhoods became even more pronounced as diocesan institutions, working in more confined areas of any one diocese, even in specific areas outside their host diocese. Two Queensland dioceses took over the staffing of church schools, on the insistence of the diocesan bishop: Feetham in North Queensland used the brotherhood of St Barnabas to staff All Souls' School, Charters Towers and later Shevill gave it charge of St Barnabas' Ravenshoe on the Atherton Tablelands. In 1936 Wand directed the brotherhood of St Paul to take over the Slade School in Warwick. In the late 1930s, the brotherhood of St Barnabas also took on work in the Gulf Country, in the diocese of Carpentaria.10 This limitation of brotherhoods worked well enough when the diocesan bishop was a former brother, like Wylde in Bathurst, or Feetham in North Queensland. But without episcopal support, the newer brotherhoods, founded after the First World War, floundered. From the 1920s onwards, the bush brotherhoods competed in more closely settled districts, but not in Queensland, with another missionary agency, Bush Church Aid, founded in Sydney in 1919. Bush Church Aid contrasted in almost every way with the brotherhoods. It claimed that all Australia was its parish and that after its initial five years, it was

9 Bishop C H Druitt‘s phrase, presidential address, 3 Sept 1915, Year Book, diocese of Grafton (1914.15), p. 49. 10 Feetham & Rymer, North Queensland Jubilee Book, pp 90-94. T W Campbell, Religious Communities of the Anglican Communion: Australia, New Zealand and the South Pacific, Canberra, 2007, pp. 108-09, 127-29. 67 independent of grants from the United Kingdom. It was funded by a central agency, in the same manner as the Church Missionary Society. It was not diocesan-based as were the brotherhoods. In the 1930s, after H W K Mowll became archbishop of Sydney, it became fully centralised in Sydney and its Melbourne and Adelaide agencies fell away. It also developed a training scheme at Moore College, under which young men repaid their college fees by serving with BCA in the outback. Its theological outlook was evangelical, and it employed married clergy as well as laymen and women, who after about 1928 were all Australians. Its first organising secretary, S J Kirkby, was Australian, born near Bendigo, but identified for most of his life with the diocese of Sydney, of which he became the second in 1932. Bush Church Aid deliberately appealed to the nationalist spirit that strengthened in Australia after the First World War. After the 1950s, the brotherhoods contracted even further, and recruitment in the United Kingdom became harder.11 In January 1972, the three remaining brotherhoods, those of St Paul, St Barnabas and the Good Shepherd, amalgamated to form the Company of Brothers, a holding company to retain the residual assets. In the past decade, these assets have been used to revive 'the Community of Brothers', in the far west of the diocese of Bathurst, which serves in the Bourke/Brewarrina and Cobar districts.

The significance of the brotherhoods The brotherhoods were a significant factor in the widespread introduction of Anglo-Catholicism in Australia. This point is made specifically in Dr David Hilliard's paper at this conference. In his book, published in London in 1908, C H S Matthews, a foundation member of the Dubbo bush brotherhood, argued that the colour and ornament of Anglo-Catholic liturgical practice was an attraction to those who dwelt in the dry, dusty inland. Later studies again put emphasis on the definitiveness of their churchmanship and their emphasis on sacraments rather than preaching. This argument is difficult to sustain, since Bush Church Aid also stressed the strength of its evangelical churchmanship. What the brotherhoods did introduce were some splendid 'characters', like John Feetham, the brother who never sleep in a bed and preferred the tower of Holy Trinity Dubbo, and later (when he became senior bishop in Australia by consecration), the lawns or the tennis pavilion of Government House in Sydney. Another was the Revd Frederick Hulton-Sams, educated as a gentleman, at Harrow and Trinity college, Cambridge, who described himself mockingly as the 'Archdeacon of Birdsville' and 'St Frederick of Betoota'; refused an army chaplaincy, he enlisted as a private and was killed in action in Flanders. The style of Anglo-Catholicism they did introduce was not the aesthetic one found in city 'shrine' churches in the Anglo-Catholic tradition, like Christ Church St Laurence in Sydney, St Peter's Eastern Hill in Melbourne, All Saints' in Brisbane or St George's Goodwood in Adelaide. It was more down-to-earth. In other words, it had been modified to some degree by its environment. Stories told in Robin's book, The Sundowner, of bush , bogged cars and crossing flooded creeks, became standard

11 Ian Shevill, Half Time, Brisbane, Jacaranda Press, 1966, chapter VII. 68 fare at the Sydney campaigns of the Brotherhood of the Good Shepherd until the 1960s. This genre is exemplified by the account of a 1923 'bush bash', written by Reginald Halse, in which four brothers from North Queensland drove a six-year-old Ford called 'Ermintrude', 3200 kms from Charters Tower to Bourke and on, inland, to Melbourne, for a Christmas holiday; they arrived looking for all the world like a bunch of 'roughies', not three Anglican priests and a future archbishop of Brisbane.12 The second significance of the brotherhoods can be found in the men it introduced to the Australian church who later became bishops, everywhere from North Queensland to North West Australia to Perth and Adelaide. From the 1930s onwards, whenever an impoverished inland diocese of immense size went looking for a new bishop, it chose a former bush brother, generally a former brotherhood warden. Hence Wylde became diocesan of Bathurst in 1936; T M Armour, bishop of Wangaratta in 1943 (though Wangaratta is compact, it is also Anglo-Catholic); John Frewer of North West Australia in 1929 and John Hudson of Carpentaria in 1950. Of the nineteen former bush brothers who became bishops, fifteen were Englishmen and only four, consecrated since 1968, were Australians. This gives some indication of the abilities and personalities of the Englishmen who were attracted to the brotherhoods, and who chose to remain in Australia. The third significance of the brotherhoods was seen in Queensland, where before the Second World War, state secondary education was limited. The boys' secondary schools staffed mainly by Australian-born lay brothers, schools like All Souls' Charters Towers, the Slade School at Warwick and St Barnabas at Ravenshoe, have left a lasting impression on generations of young rural Queenslanders, some of whom are present at this conference. A division between those brothers who travelled (Englishmen) and those who taught (Australians) did develop in the late 1930s, but the number of Australian-born brothers was never sufficient to prove a hindrance.

Conclusion The question of the permanency of brotherhoods, first raised in 1913, remained until the early 1970s. Those solutions suggested at the jubilee reunion in Brisbane in 1947, were both reactionary and backward-looking and demonstrated a lack of imagination. The decline of the brotherhoods became inevitable, with the contraction of Anglo-Catholicism and of recruits from the United Kingdom. Only three ex-brother bishops are still alive: Ken Mason, Barry Hunter and Hamish Jamieson. All three are Australian, consecrated since 1968, and Anglo-Catholics of varying hues. All three are now retired. The brotherhoods were formed in response to the challenge of ministry in the inland: 'in the widely scattered and every-changing bush districts', where the parochial system had proved 'eminently mischievous'. It was said to be one of the 'undesirable . . . methods and customs' introduced from England, which were 'unsuitable for this climate and to the altered conditions' in the colonies.13 St Clair Donaldson, archbishop of Brisbane in

12 Church Standard, 18 April 1924, p. 520. Reginald Halse wrote the story. 13 Churchill Julius, archdeacon of Ballarat, in a paper to the Church Congress of 1889, Church Congress Reports, Ballarat, 1889, p.151. 69

1904-1921, described some parishes in his diocese in the early 1900s, as 'huge spheres of influence in which it is utterly impossible for our single- handed clergy to cover the ground'; beyond such parishes was 'the illimitable bush', given over to 'heathendom'.14 The parochial system had persisted since the early days of the colonies, and was entrenched by Governor Bourke's Church Act of 1836. But its deficiencies had become all too evident in Queensland in the 1880s, as pastoral runs extended further west, as far as the South Australian border. The early brotherhoods succeeded because of their unique combination of English and Australian elements. They attracted Englishmen of greater abilities and educational standards than those who had come previously, men who were ordained in the United Kingdom and were therefore not subject to the Colonial Clergy Acts. These priests were attracted by the appeal of imperial service and the possibilities of travel in wide open spaces, not the cramped conditions of industrial or even rural parts of England. (Hence came tales of bogged cars and the 'delights' of the Queensland government railways.) But brotherhood terms of service derived also from Australian conditions, identified by bishops like Webber and Dawes. These included vows of celibacy, poverty and obedience, the five year term, the initial insistence upon men already ordained and the building of a community house. In the interwar years, attempts to reduce these terms of service, especially in dioceses which were not Anglo-Catholic, proved destructive of what Halse always called 'brotherhood ideals'. Australian-born brothers were not attracted to these ideals. They rarely had private means; they were not given to obedience, as the example of ANZAC troops showed; and they certainly did not want to remain celibate, for five years or longer, if bishops required them to wait to marry till after ordination. What the brotherhoods did achieve – in terms of the spread of Anglo-Catholicism throughout the continent and the introduction of able men who became bishops – was significant in its day. By the time the Anglican Church of Australia became independent in 1962, however, the need for bush brotherhoods was receding. Men were no longer coming from the United Kingdom, the parochial system had been introduced in many former brotherhood areas, the population of every state was crowding onto the coastline, and means of travel and communication had changed beyond the dreams of the founders of the brotherhoods. But the legends of the brotherhoods live on and at this conference it is right and proper that we remember them.

14 St Clair Donaldson, ‗Australia‘ in J Ellison and G H S Walpole (eds), Church and Empire: a series of essays on the responsibilities of empire, London, 1907, pp. 165-66. 70

Perversion, Surveillance and the Church of England Purity Society, 1820-1890

Barbara Harmes University of Southern Queensland

This paper will address responses to the issue of social disorder that was central to many late nineteenth-century concerns in Britain. Supervision of boys and young men became more formalized in the purity movements which proliferated at the end of the century. Perhaps the most notable example was the Church of England Purity Society which was formed in 1880. The Church of England Purity Society represented responses to continued calls for an attempt to redefine masculine ideology. Most importantly, it was a way of aligning the male body with the body of Christ. Moral authority was vested in the Purity Society, which provided exemplars for young men but responsibility for careful supervision was placed with middle-class parents. As an example, physical recreation was widely endorsed, not only as an instrument of spiritual development but also as a medium for training the young to meet with the diverse challenges of a naturally harsh and competitive world.

During the final decades of the nineteenth century, bourgeois English society reacted to cultural disorder and perverse sexuality by using discursive controls. This paper considers the deployment of processes of normalization among the late-Victorian middle classes. This paper will address responses to the issue of social disorder that was central to many late nineteenth-century concerns in England. This was a time when the English Empire was diminishing in potency and influence. In England itself, it seemed that there was a crisis of certainty. Indeed, it was perceived by many as a time of moral panic. It was, therefore, an occasion for a dominant order to re-assert itself against threats, whether real or imaginary, to its value system. Because the fin de siecle period was a time of uncertainty and incipient disorder, and because the need for a secure and prosperous future was overwhelming at the turn of the century, the middle- class youth (the hope of the future) became the focus of an unprecedented range of discursive controls and techniques of surveillance. The supervision of boys and young men became more formalized in the purity movements which proliferated at the end of the century. Perhaps the most notable example was the Church of England Purity Society which was formed in 1880. The Church of England Purity Society represented responses to continued calls for an attempt to redefine masculine ideology. Most importantly, it was a way of aligning the male body with the body of Christ. The aims and intentions of the Church of England Purity Society emerged from a context marked by neurosis, guilt and fears of covert sexual activity. In this context, sexual perversion was frequently portrayed as explicitly foreign and Roman Catholic. The eastern European foreign 'otherness' of the men suspected of the Jack the Ripper murders is one manifestation of this convergence between foreignness and perversion in

71 discourses of the period.1 Another manifestation, this time making the foreign other a Roman Catholic, is the proliferation of pornographic writings set beyond the sinister walls and portals of Roman Catholic convents and monasteries, in which the religious engaged in depraved practices.2 Yet in Protestant society of the late-nineteenth century in which conduct – especially sexual conduct – was strictly monitored and notions of normalcy and abnormalcy were shaped by cultural considerations, the discourses on sexuality were the locus of power relations. Two elements of this discourse – the confession and surveillance – suggest how limits were discursively shaped. The impulses behind confession – the spontaneous acknowledgment of transgression – and of surveillance – the monitoring of sexual behaviour - were shaped not only by such concerns as class and social power, but also, as will be discussed below, by the necessity to halt imperial decline.

Transgressive Conduct The deployment of taboos and the simultaneous existence of transgressive actions were implicit in the normalization of behaviour in the late nineteenth century by both religious and secular authorities. They were part of the sometimes unwritten moral laws which informed bourgeois society of the fin de siecle. Georges Bataille contrasts earlier, ‗ethnographically interesting‘ cultures, which sanctioned the transgression of taboos during the celebrations of ‗sacred time‘ with Western Christian society which allows no space for transgression to be condoned.3 Peter Bailey relates this more directly to recent English society, citing pre-industrial leisure in both villages and cities:

[C]ertain major holidays evoked the ancient licence of carnival when all social restraints on the human appetite were lifted and eating, drinking, fighting and love-making were celebrated in orgiastic fashion. On such occasions, the authority structure of village society could be temporarily inverted in the time-honoured ceremonies of saturnalia - the common man was king for the day and the world was turned upside down.4

Yet Bataille maintains that the lack of a sanctioned lacuna for transgression merely leads to a more complex relationship between taboo and transgression: all taboos exist in order to be transgressed, and society functions through 'the reconciling of what seems impossible to reconcile, respect for the law and violation of the law, the taboo and its transgression'.5

Confessional Literature The confession had been the province of the Church since the Middle Ages

1 Donald Rumbelow, The Complete Jack the Ripper, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1975, p. 239 2 A.N. Wilson, The Victorians, London, Hutchinson, 2002, p. 301 3 Georges Bataille, Eroticism (trans. Mary Dalwood), London, Marion Boyars, 1987, p. 257 4 Peter Bailey, Leisure and Class in Victorian England: Rational Recreation and the Contest for Control, 1830-1885, London, Methuen, 1987, p. 2 5 Bataille, Eroticism, p. 36 72 but by the final decades of the nineteenth century, the act of confession had entered the domains of education, religion, medicine and law, especially confessions of deviant sexuality among men. As Marian Shaw notes, the homosexual confessions published in Havelock Ellis‘s text Sexual Inversion ‗are paradigmatic of the scientific confessions which abound during the last years of Victoria's reign and in which dark, perverse, transgressive yet nevertheless true secrets are apparently discovered and brought into 'normal consciousness.‘6 Foucault maintains that at the same time the confession became more widely dispersed: with the emergence of , the Counter Reformation, and nineteenth-century medicine, it became less ritualistic and more diffuse. Appearing in a series of relationships, it has gradually taken a variety of forms: ‗interrogations, consultations, autobiographical narratives, letters; they have been recorded, transcribed, assembled into dossiers, published, and commented on.‘7 The confession, as a formal instrument of restraint by the Church, diminished particularly in Protestant countries where the individual was situated 'in a more immediate epistemological and ontological relation to God, providing fewer ... opportunities for the faithful to inform upon themselves.'8 Yet the concerns about immorality and the need for individual and public control were as great in Protestant as in Catholic cultures:

increasing attention was brought to bear on 'licentious' behaviour as an affront both to the precepts of religion and to the security of the state. Drunkenness, prostitution, violation of the Sabbath, gambling, swearing, and other 'corruptions of manners,' were believed to abound; their unchecked proliferation seemed to testify to a loss of authority by the society's great institutions and to undermine the culture's very foundations.9

On entering the domain of secular discourse, the confession remained a valuable technique for producing the 'true discourse of sex' and thus a part of the normalizing regime of truth.10 Traditionally, confession had been regarded as an act that liberated, purified and healed, and its supposed therapeutic power remained after its appropriation by secular discourses, including Freudian psychoanalysis. Yet Foucault warns against 'the internal ruse of confession', the notion that confession liberates the subject: 'The obligation to confess is now relayed through so many different points, is so deeply ingrained in us, that we no longer perceive it as the effect of a power that constrains us'.11 The author of the confessional text My Secret Life (c. 1888) cites reasons for so freely disclosing his sexual adventures, but at no stage does he attribute the memoirs to a duty to

6 Marion Shaw, ‗‗To Tell the Truth of Sex‘: Confession and Abjection in Late Victorian Writing‘, in Linda M. Shires, ed., Rewriting the Victorians: Theory, History and the Politics of Gender, London, T. Werner Laurie, 1992, p. 90 7 Michel Foucault, History of Sexuality, vol.1 (trans. Robert Hurley), Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1990, p. 63 8 Morton N. Cohen, Lewis Carroll: A Biography, London: Papermac/Macmillan, 1995, p. 110. 9 Cohen, Lewis Carroll, p.109. 10 Foucault, History of Sexuality, p. 63 11 Foucault, History of Sexuality, p. 60 73 confess imposed by his society. He fails to see that the production of truth ‗is thoroughly imbued with relations of power.'12 Foucault widens and refocuses the discussion on confession, drawing attention to a metamorphosis in literature: '[W]e have passed from a pleasure to be recounted and heard, centring on the heroic or marvelous narration of 'trials' of bravery or sainthood, to a literature ordered according to the infinite task of extracting from the depths of oneself, in between the words, a truth which the very form of the confession holds out like a shimmering mirage.'13 Foucault describes the transformation of sex into a discourse which encourages the detailed confession of thoughts as well as deeds: 'The confession ... is no longer a question of saying what was done - the sexual act - and how it was done; but of reconstructing it, in and around the act, the thoughts that recapitulated it, the obsessions that accompanied it, the images, desires, modulations, and quality of the pleasure that animated it.'14 As is so often emphasized in the works of sexual therapists such as Havelock Ellis or Richard von Krafft-Ebing: ‗Exact knowledge of the causes and conditions of sexual aberrations ... is the prerequisite for a rational prophylaxis of [them].15 Yet, as Ruth Brandon points out in her discussion of Havelock Ellis's work, exact knowledge was all there was: 'What is so strange to the twentieth-century mind is the absence of theory. The emphasis is wholly upon categorization: taxonomy is all.'16 The lesson provided by Foucault is that it is not easy to discriminate between 'real sex' and discourse, since ways of talking/writing about sex establish horizons of both perversion and normalcy which have directly behavioural consequences. 'Sexuality' is never a free-floating subject: it has become discursively shaped, and therefore susceptible to social control and monitoring.

Surveillance Surveillance – of physical and sexual development, of thought and of actions – was a known capacity of middle class parents. The anxiety and antagonism expressed by the respectable middle classes could only by intensified by the confessional literature of the 1880s and 1890s which seemed to indicate a rise in decadent behaviour and actions, especially in urban areas. The final decades of the century were conspicuous for a number of sexual scandals, including the Boulton and Parke case in 1871, in which Earnest Boulton and Frederick William Parke were charged with ‗conspiring and inciting persons to commit and unnatural offence‘, although the case was largely unproved. As Ronald Pearsall comments, ‗What was left? Merely that a couple of men had dressed in drag.‘17 The Cleveland Street affair of 1889-90 was more worrying. It involved adolescent boys

12 Foucault, History of Sexuality, p. 60 13 Foucault, History of Sexuality, p. 59 14 Foucault, History of Sexuality, p. 63 15 R. von Krafft-Ebing, Psychopathia Sexualis, with especial reference to Antipathetic Sexual Instinct: A Medico-Legal Study (trans. Charles Gilbert Chaddock), 7th ed, London, F.A. Davis, 1893,, pp. vii, viii 16 Ruth Brandon, The New Women and the Old Men: Love, Sex and the Woman Question, London, Flamingo/Harper Collins, 1990, p. 130 17 Ronald Pearsall, The Worm in the Bud: The World of Victorian Sexuality, London: Pimlico, 1993, pp. 461, 465 74 selling sexual favours at a homosexual introduction house and brothel in London. One of the clients was assistant equerry to the Prince of Wales. It was suggested that the Prince himself intervened to ‗cover up‘ the incident because the Heir Apparent may have been implicated in male-male sexual scandals.18 The unease engendered by these episodes was further heightened first by other noteworthy and much-reported aspects of fin de siecle society. Oscar Wilde‘s flamboyant lifestyle and then by details of his life were both revealed in sensational newspaper accounts of his trials. These sanctioned his labeling and condemnation by a largely homophobic society. The classification of Wilde as a decadent and then a homosexual encouraged the respectable Victorians in their belief that they could understand and control aberrant behaviour. Carroll Smith-Rosenberg insists on the importance of social order to the late-Victorian middle classes, and likewise in Discipline and Punish: the Birth of the Prison Foucault most clearly outlines the desire of any regime to eliminate ‗disorder and confusions‘. Throughout this text Foucault asserts that within society surveillance is ‗a specific mechanism in the disciplinary power‘ and analyses the constant surveillance of individuals in such apparently different yet fundamentally similar institutions as factories, hospitals, schools and prisons.19 Within such organizations, power comes from ‗general visibility‘;20 at a more sophisticated level the same principle operates within society. Panopticism, the general scrutiny of a wide sector of society, may not be possible throughout the community but the structured nature of nineteenth-century bourgeois society facilitated the deployment of techniques of surveillance. Foucault maintains that the aim of surveillance and the punishment of improper behaviour are neither ‗expiation‘ nor ‗repression‘.21 The effective functioning of institutions, and by extension, of society, is dependent upon normalization, which became ‗one of the great instruments of power at the end of the classical age.‘22 The ‗power of normalization‘, which is still deployed, has a dual function; as well as imposing homogeneity, it also individualizes ‗by making it possible to measure gaps, to determine levels, to fix specialities and to render the differences useful by fitting them one to another.‘ In this way, the social body is classified, hierarchized and ranked.23 Foucault‘s analysis of surveillance is extensive and detailed; it does not, however, specify the provenance of surveillance. Robert Gray‘s study of bourgeois hegemony in Victorian Britain is useful in its contextualization of this social power in late-nineteenth century England, arguing that while ‗[h]egemony is located in the bourgeoisie‘24, its locus is in fact ‗historically problematic and may show complex shifts and displacements within the

18 Richard Dellamora, Masculine Desire: The Sexual Politics of Victorian Aestheticism, Chapel Hill, University of Carolina Press, 1990, pp. 206-7 19 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (trans. Alan Sheridan), Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1991, p. 175. 20 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 171 21 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 182 22 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 184 23 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 184 24 Robert Q. Gray, The labour aristocracy in Victorian Edinburgh, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976, p.74 75 dominant class‘.25 Specifically, Gray locates the ideological organization of society in the urban gentry, the writers and readers of the quarterly press, and the organizers of charity and social discipline.26 Reiterating the ‗complex shifts‘ in social structures, Gray notes that: ‗The last two decades of the nineteenth century ... were characterized by social transformations which eroded the forms of domination ... with consequent shifts and dislocations in the patterns of hegemony‘.27 These dislocations may well have intensified the feelings of disorder but they failed to diminish the potency of surveillance. During these decades, surveillance was formalized in the purity movements which proliferated at the end of the century: the Church of England Purity Society and the White Cross League were formed in 1880 and The National Vigilance Association for the Repression of Criminal Vice and Immorality in 1886. These societies emerged from the intersection of two preoccupations in middle class society: the Protestant character of English virtue; and the supposed foreign origins of depravity. Commentators have reconstructed the foreign dimension given to sexual illness. In his introduction to The Politics of Everyday Fear, Brian Massumi comments that ‗there is always horror at the body as pleasure site‘,28 yet this horror and the accompanying fear of disease appear to have had significant, although perhaps unexpected, consequences. In an essay which considers visual arts specifically and attitudes to sexuality generally, D.H Lawrence was able to authoritatively comment on these views. He argued persuasively that with the introduction of syphilis into England at the end of the fifteenth century came a dread of the physical self and a 'horror of sexual life'. Its spread to the Continent was followed by similar, though less intense feelings of unease. Commenting on the reaction in England, Lawrence maintained: '[T]his extra morbidity came, I believe, from the great shock of syphilis and the realization of the consequence of the disease.' The terror of infection, he claims, has poisoned English consciousness since Elizabethan times.29 It may convincingly be argued that this terror intensified because of the increase in syphilitic infection during the nineteenth century; yet the righteousness which has been a consequence of dread has led merely to an increase in guilt and neurosis, and to convert - and perhaps more aberrant - sexual activity. An incident from the early nineteenth century suggests the anxiety which stemmed from any possibility that English Protestantism and foreign depravity could converge. In 1822 the Hon. Percy Jocelyn, , was sent to trial for committing 'an Abominable Offence' with a soldier. The trial was well attended and the report, read by a scandalized public, was 'a narration that caused our human nature to shudder, and our very blood to boil in our veins'.30 The practice of sodomy reinforced the long-held fear of Continental pollution. Press narratives, revealing the

25 Gray, The labour aristocracy, p. 78 26 Gray, The labour aristocracy, p. 75 27 Gray, The labour aristocracy, p.90 28 Brian Massumi (ed.), The Politics of Everyday Fear, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1993, vii 29 D.H. Lawrence, Selected Essays, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1978, pp. 307-311 30 John Fairburn, The Bishop!!, London: John Fairburn, 1822, p.9 76

Bishop's activities, expressed anxiety over 'the great facility with which the corrupted manners of the Continent are introduced', especially into the milieu of a bishop of the Protestant .31 The Bishop of Clogher's conduct underlines the notion of foreign perversion, made all the worse in this case by a Protestant bishop's participation in the act of depravity. By the 1880s, the Protestant Church in England stood in opposition to foreign sexual perversions. Moving from the wider social domain to the domestic sphere, the responsibility for careful supervision was placed with middle-class parents. Dr William Acton suggested that ‗many of the evil consequences following [incontinence] could be prevented by wisely watching children in early life.‘32 Dr John B. Newman had already articulated this command clearly in 1870, counselling parents to ‗look well to their [children‘s] diet, exercise, habits, and study, and keep them under as close surveillance as possible‘.33 The purpose underlining the Church of England Purity Society is highlighted by these injunctions and their middle-class, domestic targets. Moral authority was vested in the Church of England Purity Society, which provided exemplars for young men but responsibility for careful supervision was placed with middle-class parents. As an example, physical recreation was widely endorsed, not only as an instrument of spiritual development but also as a medium for training the young to meet with the diverse challenges of a naturally harsh and competitive materialistic world. The anxieties of the fin de siècle are clearly representative of a society which is materialistic as well as patriarchal and firmly class-based. In Mayhew‘s formulation, the destructive effects of materialism are obvious: ‗Commerce is incontestably demoralizing. Its effects are to be seen more and more every day.... seduction and prostitution, in spite of the precepts of the Church, and the examples of her ministers, have made enormous strides in all our great towns within the last twenty years.‘34 Fears of disease and social decay at the fin de siècle led to strong responses but some of these had already been foreshadowed by Matthew Arnold's critique of materialist society. Writing in the 1860s, Arnold clearly articulates his concerns: in an age marked by intimations of the darker side of human nature, it was not only economic strength which was vital to the middle classes, for their moral superiority could not be questioned. Indicting the materialism of Victorian England, Arnold raised the issue of maintaining 'high ideals' in a democracy faced with moral and spiritual decline: 'Our society is probably destined to become much more democratic; who or what will give a high tone to the nation then? That is the grave question.'35 His answer of course was education of male youth. In the 1880s, education continued as a discursive control for the respectable bourgeoisie; Richard Le Gallienne, a friend of Oscar Wilde, wrote that

31 Fairburn, The Bishop!!, p. 6. 32 William Acton, The Functions and Disorders of the Reproductive Organs in Childhood, Youth , Adult Age and Advanced Age, London, J.A. Churchill, 1875, p.40. 33 John B. Newman, The Philosophy of Generation; Its Abuses, with their Causes, Prevention, and Cure, New York, Samuel R. Wells, 1870, p. 53 34 Henry Mayhew in Peter Quennell, ed, Mayhew‟s London Underworld, vol. IV, London, Century, 1987 [1882], p. 112 35 Super, 1963, p. 18 77

‗Matthew Arnold, as late as 1888, was still preaching 'sweetness and light' to a world of Philistines.‘36 Religious decline was also addressed by legal sanctions such as the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885, partly aimed at increased protection for young girls and at the suppression of brothels. The discursive controls which functioned as normalizing devices were part of a larger framework of surveillance. Drunkenness, prostitution, violation of the Sabbath, gambling, swearing, and other ‗corruptions of manners,‘ were believed to abound; their unchecked proliferation seemed to testify to a loss of authority by the society‘s great institutions and to undermine the culture‘s very foundations.‘37 Le Galienne wrote: ‗The theological conceptions of our fathers had suffered serious disintegration, and the social sanctions and restrictions founded upon them were rapidly losing their authority.‘38 Authority had also, for nearly two hundred years, been vested in the various Purity Movements which had proliferated from the seventeenth century. The Societies for the Reformation of Manners appeared ‗after the medieval ecclesiastical jurisdiction over moral offences had broken down and before the secular authorities were capable of filling the breach.‘39 Members of the Societies encouraged individuals to report and urge the prosecution of ‗moral transgressors‘, including ‗prostitutes, keepers of bawdy houses ... and homosexuals.‘40 Later during the moral and social panics of the Jack the Ripper murders in 1888 members of the Church of England Purity Society were called upon to closely monitor the streets of London and to coordinate attempts to report suspicious behaviour. The final decades of the nineteenth century saw a strengthening of similar endeavours to curb illicit sexual activity and confirm the importance of the family. The members of the Societies for the Reformation of Manners 'actively encouraged individuals to watch for and report violations among their neighbors and friends.'41 These particular societies were no longer in existence in the final decades of the nineteenth century. They had been superceded around 1880 by such organizations as the Purity Society and the White Cross League, responses to continued calls for a return to moral purity, both of which attempted to redefine masculine ideology, linking it with purity, and aligning the male body with the body of Christ. Thousands of men pledged themselves to chastity, encouraged to 'reject all non reproductive, non-marital sexual desires in order to reassert their larger patriarchal privilege.'42 Like the traditional confession, these leagues relied on self-examination, but they also encouraged self-surveillance, particularly among men: '[W]hereas men had heretofore been supposed to look to women as the guardians of moral rectitude, the pledge shifted the burden of

36 Richard Le Gallienne, The „Romantic‟ Nineties, London, Robin Clark, 1993 [1926] , p. 10 37 Ed Cohen, Talk on the Wilde Side: Towards a Genealogy of Discourse on Male Sexualities, London and New York, Routledge, 1993, p.109 38 Le Gallienne, The „Romantic‟ Nineties, p. 129 39 Edward J. Bristow, Vice and Vigilance: Purity Movements in England Since 1700, Totowa, Rowan and Littlefield, 1977 , p. 3 40 Bristow, Vice and Vigilance, p. 2 41 Cohen, Talk on the Wilde Side, p. 111 42 Cohen, Talk on the Wilde Side, p. 87 78 moral responsibility to men themselves.'43 The increasing pressure placed upon men again intensified the potential for neurotic conditions, partly because the burden of guilt could not be displaced onto an authority figure. The image of male athleticism and vigour implicit in the symbolism of the White Cross League - that of St George on his steed - was counterpoised by the homoerotic representations of the crucified or flagellant Christ and St Sebastian pierced by arrows. These images were popular at the time and St Sebastian was to become the favourite martyr of homosexual men. These culturally approved figures showed a masochistic delight in torment. Also functioning through surveillance activities, but controlled largely by women, the National Vigilance Association for the Repression of Criminal Vice and Immorality was established in 1885, one of a number of vigilance associations. One ‗sister society‘ was the Central Vigilance Committee, characterized by a reforming zeal which emerged from the hierarchy of the Church of England; on 13 October 1885, the Pall Mall Gazette reported on its annual meeting, presided over by the Bishop of London. He noted the improvement in public opinion on the subject of immorality: ‗There was unquestionably ... a very great change in the feeling among the great body of the people in this matter within the lst dozen years. The feeling was now very widespread and very deep, and was certain to increase rather than to diminish. They were doing their best to stem the current of immorality‘.44 Much of the support for the Vigilance Associations came from late-Victorian 'feminists', including Josephine Butler, outraged at the subordination of women in this patriarchal culture. Prostitution was perhaps the major target of their members, but they were equally disturbed by the lack of sexual rights afforded to married women. Yet in spite of their promulgation of repressive sexual codes and attempts to limit sexual opportunities, and their early optimism, the Associations were largely unsuccessful in effecting their stated aims of suppressing vice and improving public morality. 'Walter' comments in the final chapters of My Secret Life, written in the 1880s: '[P]ublic improvements and public purity!!! have destroyed most of the best central [bagnios], public morals being seemingly not much bettered.'45

Conclusion In his detailed examination of the regulation of sexuality, Jeffrey Weeks underlines the accuracy of this assertion and takes it a step further. Weeks claims that there is ‗a strong case to be made that the moralistic campaigns around sexuality encouraged ... as a response a more radical position on sexuality‘ Sexuality was given a positive value, becoming ‗a subversive force which challenged the tyranny of respectability.‘46 As Foucault argues, ‗[d]iscourse transmits and produces power; it reinforces it, but also undermines and exposes it, renders it fragile and makes it possible to thwart it.‘47

43 Cohen, Talk on the Wilde Side, p. 87 44 Pall Mall Gazette, 1885, p.10 45 ‗Walter‘ (pseud), My Secret Life , London, Arrow Books, 1994 [1888-1892], p. 1842 46 Jeffrey Weeks, Sex, Politics and Society: The Regulation of Sexuality Since 1880 , London, Longman, 1981, pp. 91-92 47 Foucault, History of Sexuality, p. 101 79

80

Reforming the English Episcopate 1600-1660

Marcus Harmes The University of Queensland and St Francis Theological College

This paper investigates the purpose and the power of the reformed episcopate in seventeenth-century England. It takes issue with one particular interpretation of episcopacy in the Stuart period, namely the notion that the Reformation of the Tudor period created a crisis for English bishops. Scholars who propound this view, including R.B. Manning and Andrew Foster, argue that reformist impulses and principles fatally undercut both the authority and the purpose of episcopacy. Historians who pinpoint a crisis in the English episcopacy also locate at least some attempt by bishops to defend their order by recourse to jure divino theories of episcopacy, meaning that bishops underpinned their order by asserting its divine origins. This paper cuts across both ideas. It instead argues that members of the Stuart episcopate pinpointed the distinctively reformed attributes of bishops and that the episcopate staked a claim to a distinctively reformed identity, one not indebted to jure divino ideas and one which complicates modern scholarly perceptions of a reformist crisis in the episcopacy.

As early as 1604, James I referred to the dissenting belief that 'Bishops smell of a Papall supremacie' as being already 'so old a controversie'.1 His warning to his bishops reminds us that sixteenth and seventeenth century criticisms of episcopacy expressed the specific claim that bishops were a popish remnant. Detractors of individual bishops held them to be crypto- papists, holding the office of bishop due to its consonances with popish religion and their secret desires to serve the papacy with popery. For example the anti-episcopal scholar Pierre du Moulin called Archbishop Ussher of 'a rare ornament', but one bishop's rareness merely stressed that the other reformed prelates were, so he said, a 'multitude of Romanizing bishops' and like or were more likely, according to contemporary gossip to be found kissing pictures of the Virgin Mary or wearing preposterously elaborate vestments than functioning as reformed pastors.2 The reputation for popishness attached itself to even the most robustly Protestant bishops. Bishop John King, the Jacobean bishop of London, despite a long career preaching against Roman Catholicism and the papacy, went to his grave alleged to be a Roman Catholic.3 His posthumous reputation reflected a controversial reputation which had long adhered to individual bishops and the order in general. Archbishop Whitgift was lampooned after his death in 1604 and in fact during his funeral procession for being 'the Jesuits' hope'; his successor

1 King James I, The Workes, London: 1616, pp. 143-44 2 Cited in Alan Ford, : Theology, History and Politics in Early-Modern Ireland and England, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2007, p. 1 3 This allegation was vigorously denied by Bishop King‘s son in a Paul‘s Cross sermon in 1621. 81

Richard Bancroft was the willing host at Lambeth Palace of the 'Strumpet of Rome'.4 Arguments that bishops were collectively a popish remnant gained momentum across the late-sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. They reached their fullest extent in the seventeenth century in the Root and Branch Petition offered to the Long Parliament in the 1640s. This document called for the extirpation of the episcopate.5 The verbal attacks on the episcopate made in the House of Commons as members debated the Petition were paralleled outside of Parliament during debates in the physical attacks made on the persons of the bishops in Palace Yard, whereby the bishops arriving by carriage were physically intimidated by a torch-wielding mob.6 The violence against bishops in 1641 reflects the doctrinal challenges to their authority and to the very notion of bishops governing a reformed church. The 'root and branch' petitions submitted to the Long Parliament in the 1640s, described episcopacy as 'ungodly' and papist.7 Although the exercise of discipline was a prominent aspect of reformed thought, the impulses and doctrines of the English reformation often undercut the power and functions of the episcopate. At least it was possible for these arguments to be stridently asserted in Parliament and for episcopal rule to collapse under the weight of parliamentary disapproval. But the often thunderous denunciations of episcopacy as a popish remnant should not obscure the claims by the bishops themselves, if only rhetorical, to have been a force of reformed authority. I argue that members of the episcopate offered a striking reorientation of ecclesiastical authority in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries which were intended to neutralise contemporary arguments that episcopacy was a popish remnant.8 Studying writings which interpreted the irregularity of Archbishop Abbot and

4 These views are recalled in Pauline Croft, ‗The Reputation of Robert Cecil: Libels, Political Opinion and Popular Awareness in the Early Seventeenth Century‘, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, sixth century, vol.1, 1991, p. 46. A more general discussion of rumour and gossip is provided in Richard Cust, ‗News and Politics in early 17th century England‘, Past and Present, vol.112, 1986 , pp. 60-90 5 , The Religion of Protestants, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1982, p. 40 Proceedings in Parliamentare partly narrated in Wilbur Cortez Abbott, The Writings and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, Cambridge, Press, 1939, vol.II, pp. 152- 57 6 , Works, ed Philip Wynter, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1843, vol.I, lvii. The work of Parliament against bishops was also given mocking reference in ‗a good Admonition to Protestants‘, affixed to the forged letter from Lord John Finch to John Cosin; Anon., The Coppy of a Letter Sent from Iohn Lord Finch, late Lord Keeper, to his Friend Dr. Cozens: With A Commemoration of the Favours Dr. Cozens Shewed him in his Vice-Chancellorship. Unto VVhich is annexed a good Admonition to Protestants, no publication details, 1641, pp.5-6 7 The root and branch petitions are extensively studied in Lorraine Gallant, ‗Apocalyptic and non-apocalyptic anti-episcopalianism in early modern England, 1558-1646‘, Dalhousie University MA, 1999. 8 Many dissenters castigated the episcopate as a Romanist remnant and a withholder of reform, while their cathedrals and cathedral closes sheltered popish loyalists. R.B. Walker draws general conclusions of this nature from specific study of Lincoln Minster; Walker, ‗ in the Reign of Queen ‘, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, vol.xi, no.2, 1960, pp. 186-201. See also Claire Cross, ‗Dens of Loitering Lubbers: Protestant protest against Cathedral foundations, 1540-1640‘, in D. Baker, ed, Schism, Heresy and Religious Protest: Studies in Church History, vol. 10, 1972. 82 statements on reformed episcopal authority by and Arthur Duck, one a bishop and the other a biographer of a bishop, I will discuss what bishops and their satellite clergy had to say about themselves as a reformed ministry.

Bishops in their English context Censure provoked defence; during the seventeenth century sustained defences of episcopacy aligned the institution with a range of explanations of its retention and its continuing potency as a force of ecclesiastical order. A number of bishops, among them , the Archbishop of Canterbury from 1576 to 1604, rested content with an Erastian underpinning to their authority and looked to the magistracy and the royal supremacy to make sense of the source and weight of episcopal power. Whitgift's contemporaries, such as Matthew Hutton ( 1596–1606) likewise defended the royal supremacy and looked to it as the basis of his episcopal authority.9 It was not only bishops who advanced these ideas. In 1641, the religious controversialist William Prynne claimed that English bishoprics 'proceded from the Crown and Kings of England'.10 By the 1640s, this Erastian assessment of episcopal power caused affront to Archbishop William Laud (in office 1633–1644), and scholars have since stressed that Laud and his associate clergy held to ideals of episcopal significance and authority which were indebted to jure divino theories of apostolic lineage.11 However, the extent to which jure divino ideas dominated the Church and the episcopate after 1660 in providing explanations for retention and authority is questionable. It reconstructs a context in which bishops faced attacks for being unreformed relics of Roman Catholicism and posits that in this context appeals to apostolic antiquity were not helpful in justifying the contemporary authority of bishops. Instead, bishops and their defenders more likely resorted to historical rather than spiritual grounds in their defence of episcopacy.12 English churchmen found compelling statements of episcopal power in textual evidence which stressed the distinctively reformed character of the restored English bishops. This essay argues that a distinctively reformed idea of the authority of bishops had emerged by the later seventeenth century, but that this idea of reformed episcopacy also interacted with other explanations of and justifications for episcopal authority which emerged from clerical contexts, including the jure divino authority of bishops. In this context it is worth examining Duck and Gauden together; they bring together a complex interplay of ideas concerning the need to

9 On Hutton‘s attachment to the Royal Supremacy see Peter Lake, ‗Matthew Hutton – A Puritan Bishop?‘, History, 64, 1979, 182–204, p. 186. Hutton also exercised the presidency of the Council of the North and therefore maintained the authority of Elizabeth I in northern England. See R. R. Reid, The King‟s Council in the North, London, Longmans, Green and Co., 1921, p. 347 10 The Substance of a Speech Made in the Houſe of Commons by Wil. Prynne of Lincoln‟s Inne Eſquire, 4th Dec. 1648, London: Michael Spark, 1649, p. 47 11 See especially Robert S. Bosher, The Making of the Restoration Settlement: The Influence of the Laudians 1649–1662, Westminster, Dacre Press, 1951, pp. 82–87 12 John Spurr, The Restoration Church of England, 1646–1689, New Haven, Press, 1991, p. 135 83 reduce the episcopate and to vitiate impressions that it was a popish remnant. Their works shed light on the controversial debates about episcopacy and on how reformed writers defined episcopacy as appropriate form of government for a reformed church rather than as a popish relic. Their context is especially meaningful to evaluating how and why members of the Church of England were compelled to defend episcopacy as necessary to a reformed Church and as intrinsic to it. Duck and Gauden share a context of active participation in Church life during the Civil Wars and the Commonwealth; Duck's career as a church official spans the earlier to mid- seventeenth century and Gauden received a bishopric in 1660. Both emerge from a context where attacks against bishops culminated in the abolition of episcopal government by Parliament by 1646, where episcopacy was under exceptional pressure and in which the royal supremacy had been dissolved. Churchmen (and politicians) expressed varying views on episcopacy. Calls for its total abolition gained momentum across the early to mid seventeenth century. Trenchant criticisms of the unreformed character of episcopacy also brought forth other responses. One was the schemes for its reduction, ideas exemplified by John Gauden's writings. Another was the attempted integration of the longer history of the episcopate, including its medieval personnel, into the context of a reformed church. Arthur Duck's biography of Chichele reflects this strategy. Gauden was elevated to the episcopate in 1660, serving only briefly until his death in 1662. However, during the Civil Wars and Commonwealth and during the suppression of the episcopate, deans and chapters and the Prayer Book, Gauden developed a fully thought-out explication of the reformed episcopate's origins and unique powers and character. Gauden's work emerged from the exceptional circumstances of the Restoration and the necessity, in his view, to justify the episcopal authority which he then hoped would be restored, as Gauden wrote in the last years of the Commonwealth. In writing in response to particular circumstances, Gauden's work therefore reflects the origin of the commentary on Abbot's irregularity which arose from the sequestration. But Gauden's work stands forth distinctively from his intellectual context and from many seventeenth-century writings on the episcopate. Many churchmen, and for a time Gauden himself, devoted thought and energy to the reduction of episcopacy, meaning that the diocesan oversight and temporal responsibilities of bishops would be reduced and simplified, in an effort to make bishops seem reformed. Gauden later changed his mind, arguing that bishops were already reformed and therefore not in need of reduction or reformation. As Spurr points out, the Commonwealth produced a younger generation of clergy who had collaborated with the Cromwellian forces yet who also emerged as conforming members of the restored episcopal Church after 1660. Among these were Gauden and other members of the Ussherian circle, whose major preoccupations had been to defend episcopal rule according to the standards of Presbyterian .13 It is possible to reconstruct the influence of members of this

13 Spurr, Religion, politics and society in Britain, p. 146; Gauden‘s place in episcopal debates of the 1650s is discussed in William Abbott, ‗James Ussher and ‗Ussherian‘ episcopacy, 1640–1656: the Primate and his reduction manuscript‘, Albion, 22.2, 1990, 237–59, p. 256 84 generation and to identify justifications for episcopal rule based on compellingly reformed ideas of Church polity and discipline, rather than Laudian concepts of jure divino episcopacy. These arguments make sense in a context in which opponents of episcopacy were rhetorically confused between popish and English bishops. The reformation of the Church became an immediately compelling argument for the authority of restored bishops and for neutralising arguments that episcopacy was a popish relic. Gauden's context was both political and intellectual. In the lead up to 1660, bishops faced a range of choices in asserting and defending their authority. Edward Hyde, the Earl of Clarendon, recorded that bishops were by no means 'all of one mind' and surviving and newly appointed bishops in 1660 reached different conclusions about the extent and basis of their authority, including the possibility of its reduction and the collaboration between episcopacy and presbytery.14 Gauden's work on episcopal government, St Peters Bands, referred in its title to the Solemn League and Covenant and Gauden's immediate background was the ecclesiastical settlement of the Commonwealth, which had found bishops an unacceptable source of authority. By 1653 Gauden was associated with a group intellectually allied to James Ussher, the Primate of Ireland, and was promoting Ussher's scheme for a reduced episcopacy.15 His work on this theme, Hieraspistes, argued for the preservation of the episcopate, as Gauden stressed that the 'ancient and Catholick Government of Godly Bishops' conformed to ancient presbyterial standards of Church government.16 Gauden's emphasis was on adjusting the episcopacy, although this emphasis reveals the different import of his other works, which stressed the acceptably reformed characteristics of English bishops.17 In St Peters Bands he described the conditions of the Solemn League and Covenant, which required the 'abjuring or extirpating of all Episcopacy.' Gauden found this requirement inexplicable, for the episcopate thus suppressed was 'reformed and regulated as it ought to be.'18 According to Gauden, English bishops were acceptably reformed. While a part of Ussher's circle and an intellectual contributor to the Archbishop's scheme, Gauden's contribution to defending and outlining episcopal power ultimately stood out markedly from this context. His appeal to reformed precedents, in Scotland and Europe, carried a different emphasis to Ussher's plans to reduce episcopacy, ideas which paralleled associated schemes to revise and reduce the Book of Common Prayer to a

14 Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, Continuation of his Life, Oxford, 1827, vol 2, pp. 119– 20 15 See James C. Spalding and Maynard F. Brass, ‗Reduction of Episcopacy as a means to unity in England, 1640-1662‘, Church History , vol.30, no.4, 1961, pp. 414-32 16 John Gauden, Hieraspistes: A Defence by Way of Apology for the Ministry and Ministers of the Church of England, London, 1653, p. 219 17 Gauden‘s place in episcopal debates of the 1650s is explained in William Abbott, ‗James Ussher and ‗Ussherian‘ Episcopacy, 1640-1656: The Primate and His Reduction Manuscript‘, Albion, vol.22, no.2, 1990, p. 256 18 John Gauden, Analysis: Looſing of St Peters Bands; setting forth the true Senſe and Solution of the Covenant in point of Conscious so far as it relates to the Government of the Church by Episcopacy, London, J. Beft for Andrew Crook, 1660, p. 8 85 model suitable for wider acceptance.19 In St Peters Bands bishops appeared as already reformed and as having earned the approval of reformed confessions. His text offered a precise understanding of reformed episcopal authority. He placed the English episcopate in a wider, reformed context of European confessions, including the Calvinists, and therefore acknowledged that reformist principles were often inimical to the government of bishops. Guaden excused the anti-episcopal impulses coming from other Protestant communities and inverted them. As he breathlessly explained 'a few reformed Churches of later daies' were not governed by bishops. While they 'want not contempt of Bishops', and instead 'the necessity of times' resulted in such feelings becoming manifest. While foreign Protestants disapproved of their bishops, 'they approve and venerate Episcopacy in others.' In other words, Gauden argued that continental foreign confessions had no objections to bishops but particular circumstances meant that they were unable to have any. His ideas reflected the earlier writings of Richard Hooker, whose Ecclesiastical Polity had both defended episcopacy as the ideal form of ecclesiastical government but had also acknowledged, without disapproval, that some reformed churches had altered or even abandoned episcopal government.20 Gauden argued that anti-episcopal impulses in other Protestant churches could reveal approval for English bishops, a paradoxical argument which Gauden achieved through an historical survey of different reformed communities. He was not the only English episcopal writer to bring European reformed authorities into his work, as Bancroft had earlier cited Calvin as supporting episcopacy when preaching at Paul's Cross in 1588 and John Whitgift also drew Calvin into the orbit of reformed episcopacy and its relations with magisterial authority.21 Bancroft became archbishop of Canterbury (in 1604) and throughout his public career at university, court and parliament defended the episcopate's singular significance. His sermon was republished in the seventeenth century, and so too was Bancroft's point that 'S. Ierom saith, and M. Calvin seemeth… to confesse that Bishops have had the said superiority ever since the time of S. Mark the Evangelist.'22 In this sermon Apostolic, Patristic and Reformed (in this case Genevan) authorities all combined to acknowledge the authority of the episcopate and Bancroft set episcopal authority in both ancient and reformed contexts.23

19 ‗I.W.‘, Certaine Reasons Why the Booke of Common-Prayer Being Corrected Shovld Continue, London, A.N. for Richard Lownds, 1641; Anon., The Protestation Of the Two and twenty Divines, For the Setling of the Church: And the Particulars by them excepted againſt in the Liturgie: Not that the Book of Common Prayer of the Church of England ſhould be utterly aboliſhed, but purged of all Innovations and Abſurdities, London, H.Beck, 1642 or 1643. 20 Richard Hooker, Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, ed P.G. Stanwood, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Harvard University Press, 1981, III.11.16 21 John Whitgift, Works III, ed J. Ayre, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1853, p. 400 22 Dr Reignolds His Letter to that Worthy Councellor, Sir Francis Knolles, concerning ſome paſſages in D. Bancroft‟s Sermon at Pavles Croſſe, feb. 9. 1588 in the Parliament time, London, W.I., 1641, p.8. On Dr John Rainolds and the controversy which followed the delivery of Bancroft‘s sermon, see Diarmaid MacCulloch, ‗Richard Hooker‘s Reputation‘, English Historical Review, 107, 473, 2002, pp. 774-5, 777 23 Bancroft became archbishop of Canterbury in 1604. The Paul‘s Cross sermon of 1588 was preached in retaliation to the publication of the Marprelate Tracts. The sermon was 86

Nor was the publication of St Peters Bands the last time Gauden's views would appear in public discourse. The complexity of ascribing jure divino origins to the episcopate was also made clear in the opinions of foreign Protestant divines which English bishops solicited during the Restoration. These opinions were originally gathered by the Restoration Bishop of London (in office 1676-1713) and disseminated by (1635-1699), his colleague on the episcopal bench. One of the foreign divines to whom the English bishops appealed, Monsieur Claude, argued that fate determined whether an ecclesial community was governed by a bishop or a presbyter.24 According to this theologian, bishops were as acceptable to reformed religion as a Calvinist presbyter, but their office owed more to contingency than an apostolic origin.25 Likewise an early and anonymous biographer of Archbishop Tillotson recorded that the Presbyterian divine Edward Calamy was offered a bishopric by Charles II, and that his response revealed a Presbyterian conceding the superiority of episcopal rule. That 'good old man deliberated about it some Considerable time, professing to see the great inconvenience of the Presbyterian parity of Ministers.'26 Gauden drew evidence from different Protestant communities. According to him, the Church of Scotland 'once enjoyed the best constitutions of Episcopacy in the world.'27 Gauden was disappointed at the evolution of the Presbyterian government of the Scottish Church. The Kirk in Scotland functioned in Gauden's text as an illustration of exemplary Protestant episcopacy, even though it had no bishops but had formerly accepted the government of bishops. Appeals to the Kirk as a model of conservative church government had earlier been made in sermons by Lancelot Andrewes ( 1619-26) and Richard Bancroft, who had appropriated words from the Scottish reformer John Knox and transposed them into an episcopal context.28 Gauden's text, written in June 1660 for the benefit of the returning King and

published in 1588 but the comments from Reynolds to Knollys may have come from the 1634 re-issue; Bancroft, A Sermon Preached at Pavls Crosse, London, 1634. On Bancroft see Stuart Barton Babbage, Puritanism and Richard Bancroft , London, SPCK, 1962, pp. 23-4 and Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, History of the Great Rebellion vol. I, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1888, p. 186 24 Cited in Stillingfleet, The unreasonableness of separation, or, An impartial account of the history, nature, and pleas of the present separation from the communion of the Church of England: To which several late letters are annexed, of eminent Protestant divines abroad, London, T.N. for Henry Mortlock, 1681, p. 449 25 The conforming divine Herbert Thorndike noted that Presbyterians regarded English episcopal government as a compromise, for the Tudor reformers had been influenced by Phillip Melancthon rather than Calvin. Thorndike noted that ‗Some of our Scottifh Presbyterians have obſerved that the Church of England was reformed by thoſe, that had more esteem of Melancthon than of Calvin‘; Herbert Thorndike, An Epilogue to the Tragedy of the Church of England, Being a neceſsary conſideration and brief Reſolution of the Chief Controverſies in Religion that divide the Weſtern Church: Occaſioned by the Preſent Calamity of the Church of England , London: J.M. and T.R. for J. Morton, J. Alleſtry and T. Dicas, 1659, p.195. Thorndike‘s work is examined in E.C. Miller, ‗The doctrine of the Church in the thought of Herbert Thorndike (1598-1672)‘, Oxford University D.Phil, 1990 26 BL Birch, MS 4236 fl. 92. 27 Gauden, Looſing of St. Peters Bands, p. 9 28 McCullough, ed, Lancelot Andrewes, p. 342 87 government-in-exile, looked to a temporarily un-episcopal church to argue that a cleric could be both reformed and a bishop.

Heralds of Reform: Medieval Protestants Highlighting the reformed character of episcopal authority necessarily draws attention to a complex dialogue between the episcopate's past and present. The writings of Sir Arthur Duck gave fuller elaboration in Gauden's understanding of reformed episcopal power. Duck elucidated his conception of reformed episcopacy by studying the medieval Church. Duck's actual authorship of the ideas on reformed episcopacy is difficult to establish as they are in a text attributed to Duck, but translated and augmented over forty years after his death in 1648.29 A Latin version of this work is known from the Jacobean period and the work thereafter pursued a complex trajectory through the seventeenth century. While the English version is from the end of the seventeenth century, this English text and its fresh dedication to Archbishop Tenison drew its meaning from Duck's earlier seventeenth century material. Duck, a diocesan official and chancellor in the diocese of Bath and Wells, interpreted Chichele's career through the prism of reform of the Church. In his own lifetime, pamphlets and polemic associated Duck with William Laud, Matthew Wren, John Lambe, and other churchmen condemned by the Parliamentary opponents of episcopacy. The ongoing textual history of Duck's work on episcopacy should be understood with Duck's career and controversial reputation and the points on episcopacy that appeared in the late-seventeenth century emerged from earlier decades of religious controversy.30 Duck's work, in different textual incarnations, traced the characteristics of the reformed episcopate back to the fifteenth century and to the archiepiscopate of , a fifteenth-century archbishop. Duck considered Chichele to be a fully formed reformed bishop in an unreformed context. Duck's means of elucidating Chichele's reformed character was through a comparative analysis of the man and his context. English churchmen on the episcopate from the sixteenth and into the seventeenth centuries interpreted the different functions of bishops and the significance attached to the order, stressing not only the singular significance of bishops but also some continuity between pre- and post- Reformation episcopacy. Before the English schism from Rome, Dean of St Paul's (1467-1519) argued for the special status and responsibilities of bishops, as they were the agents on earth of the celestial bishop, Christ.31 Colet claimed that 'the Bishop is a veritable sacrament.'32 Colet's arguments survived the processes of reformation. For example, in the late sixteenth century Richard Hooker argued in Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, that high rank and powers of oversight inhered in episcopal office. Hooker also argued that bishops held special powers of

29 For some details of Duck‘s life and career, see Pierce, ‗Anti-Episcopacy‘, p. 824 30 Pierce, ‗Anti-Episcopacy‘, p. 824 31 Jonathan Arnold, Dean John Colet of St Paul‟s: Humanism and Reform in Early Tudor England, London, I.B. Tauris, 2007, p. 48 32 John Colet, Joannes Coleti Super Opera Dionysii: Two Treatises on the Hierarchies of Dionysius, by John Colet, D.D., trans J.H. Lupton , London, and sons, 1869 , p. 53 88 ordination, a point which stressed the continuities in office which Parker's consecration both acknowledged and justified.33 Tudor and Stuart ecclesiastical polity acknowledged the special significance of episcopacy by the particular tasks and responsibilities of the order. Bishops and archbishops had the right to issue licences to preach through the archepiscopal Court of Faculties.34 Archbishops of Canterbury from Whitgift under Elizabeth I to during the Restoration concurred in insisting that entry to the offices of priest and deacon was through episcopal ordination.35 Other sacramental functions remained explicitly episcopal; new churches or chapels in the seventeenth century could only be consecrated by bishops, indicating the episcopate's specific functions and responsibilities.36 These special responsibilities contrasted with arguments from the later-sixteenth century, especially those by the reformer Martin Bucer, that there was nothing to distinguish between bishops and other clergy.37 They also contrast with the marginalised status of confirmation in the post-Reformation Church, whereby a rite exclusively reserved for administration by bishops was inconsistently enforced.38 Two important traditional roles of bishops in the pre-Reformation Church were to ordain clergy and consecrate churches; this was equally a responsibility of bishops after the Reformation. Consecrating churches and ordaining clergy formed as much the work of Roman Catholic bishops in contemporary continental Europe, and the medieval predecessors of the reformed bishops, as it did English bishops and these responsibilities of bishops fuelled polemical confusion between popish and English bishop. The Combination Lectures of the Elizabethan period, from which emanated the view that the Church of England was but 'halfly reformed', because of 'popish remnants'39 makes clear contemporary responses to bishops.40 It

33 See M.R. Sommerville, ‗Richard Hooker and his Contemporaries on Episcopacy: an Elizabethan Consensus‘, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, vol.35, 1984, p. 177-187 34 On the licensing of preachers by bishops see Mark E. VanderSchaaf, ‗Archbishop Parker‘s efforts towards a Bucerian discipline in the Church of England‘, Sixteenth Century Journal, vol.8, no.1, 1977, p. 96 35 On the Court of Faculties see Christopher Hill, Society and Puritanism in Pre- Revolutionary England, London, Mercury Books, 1966, p. 112. Hill also addresses the disciplinary powers of bishops in the High Commission; Society and Puritanism, p.349. 36 Lancelot Andrewes composed liturgies for consecrating churches and church furnishings; see Library of Anglo-Catholic Theology , ed. J.P. Wilson and J. Bliss, vol. xi., pp. 158-63. See also J.F. Merritt, ‗Puritans, Laudians, and the Phenomenon of Church-Building in Jacobean London‘, Historical Journal, vol.41, no.4, 1998, pp.935-960, and Andrew Spicer, ‗‗God will have a house‘: Defining Sacred Space and Rites of Consecration and Early Seventeenth-Century England‘, in Andrew Spicer and Sarah Hamilton, eds, Defining the Holy: Sacred Space in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2005, p.216. On the creation of Protestant chapels see also Annabel Ricketts with Claire Gapper and Caroline Knight, ‗Designing for Protestant Worship: the Private Chapels of the Cecil Family‘, in Spicer and Hamilton, eds, Defining the Holy, p. 116. 37 See Patrick Collinson, ‗The Reformer and the Archbishop: Martin Bucer and an English Bucerian‘, Journal of Religious History, vol.6, no.4, 1971, p. 313 38 James F. Turrell, ‗‗Until Such Time as He Be Confirmed‘: The Laudians and Confirmation in the Seventeenth-Century Church of England‘, The Seventeenth Century, vol.20, no.2, 2005, p. 204-5. 39 Cited in Patrick Collinson, John Craig and Brett Usher, eds, Conferences and Combination Lectures in the Elizabethan Church: Dedham and Bury St Edmunds, Boydell Press/Church of England Record Society, 2003, xxvi. 89 was this confusion to which Duck responded when he disentangled Chichele from a Roman Catholic context. According to Duck's biography of Chichele, the Archbishop could have been a Protestant bishop and his exercise of office in the fifteenth century gave meaning and substance to the reformed episcopate of the seventeenth century. As a diocesan chancellor, Duck wrote with insights into diocesan organization and worked closely with the bishops of Bath and Wells. Duck's work therefore rested on the episcopal organization of the Church of England and he discerned in Chichele a reformed bishop more than a century before the Tudor reforms.41 His Life of Henry Chichele was originally a Latin tract published in under the Commonwealth but eventually translated into English in 1699 (by which time Duck had died). The work in either its earlier or later manifestation was one of the few explorations of this medieval prelate's life to be produced in the seventeenth century.42 The work, specifically its preface, eschewed analysis or interpretation of Chichele's life and instead transmitted biographical data. It is of value here because of the comments that Duck offered in the dedicatory epistle. In this preface, Duck expressed his conception of a reformed Chichele, one who could have offered his allegiance to the reformed Church of England. Archbishop Chichele simply had the misfortune to be born in the fourteenth century and to serve as archbishop in the fifteenth, rather than the sixteenth or seventeenth. Except for this impediment, he would have belonged to the Church of England. Duck wrote: 'If this Prelate had lived in happier Times, he would probably have exerted those great Talents which he carried far in so dark an Age, in Services of a high nature.'43 Duck's most singular claim about Chichele concerned his metropolitical relations with the papacy.44 In Duck's assessment, Chichele

40 An authoritative emphasis defined bishops in the pre-Reformation period as much as the post-reformation period. In 1532 Bishop Nicke of revealed problems in the discipline of his diocese, for which the bishop himself was to blame. His visitation revealed the bishop as a source of authority, even deficient authority. A. Jessopp, ed., ‗Visitations of the A.D. 1492-1532‘, Camden Society, new series, 1888, p. 267. On the strengths and limits of episcopal power see also H.G. Owen, ‗The Episcopal Visitation: its limits and limitations in Elizabethan London‘, Journal of Ecclesiastical History , vol. 11, no 2, 1960, pp. 179-85 and Ogbu Kalu, Bishops and Puritans in Early Jacobean England: a perspective on methodology‘, Church History, vol.45, 1976, pp. 469-89 41 On the period assessed by Duck see B. Wilkinson, ‗Fact and fancy in fifteenth-century English History‘, Speculum, 42.4,1967, 673–92, p. 673 42 Chichele and other medieval primates including and John Peckam also received attention in Archbishop Parker‘s history of the archbishopric of Canterbury, De Antiquitate Britannicae Ecclesiae & Priuilegiis Ecclesiae Cantuariensis cum Archiepiscopis eiusdem 70, Londini, In aedibus J. Daij, An. Dom. 1572, and in other catalogues of bishops produced in the seventeenth century, including: Anon., Catalogue of all the bishops which have governed in the Church of England and Wales, ſince the converſion of the Saxons. Together with the honourary offices which they or any of them have enjoyed in the Civil Government, London, 1674, John Harington, A Supplie or Addicion to the Catalogue of Bishops to the Yeare 1608, ed. R. H. Millar, Potomac, Maryland, 1979 43 Duck, The Life of Henry Chichele, dedicatory epistle. 44 In his own lifetime, Chichele had been accused of anti-papalism, a charge that he denied and which emerged from a complex controversy regarding parliamentary legislation 90 was an early exponent of reformed episcopacy, for the Archbishop 'asserted the Rights of the Crown, and the Liberties of this Church against Papal Usurpations'. According to Duck, Chichele's archiepiscopate was strikingly anachronistic for the fifteenth century, for he possessed 'great Qualities, and so much the greater, because the Corruptions of the Clergy from the Papacy down to the Begging Orders, were then to an insupportable degree'.45 In the midst of this corruption, Chichele stood out as an early advocate of reform. Earlier appeals to the unreformed Church as a harbinger of the Reformation contextualise Duck's resort to a medieval churchman as a herald of reformed religion. In 1608, Thomas James's An Apologie for Iohn Wicliffe, shewing his conformitie with the now Church of England depicted Wyclif as congruent with the post-Reformation Church.46 Yet by the seventeenth century, Wyclif had long stood within the ranks of the reformed tradition, in a way a medieval archbishop did not.47 The distinctiveness of Duck's work lies in his choice of subject matter on which to rest arguments for the early manifestations of reformed episcopacy. Duck's political context makes sense of these decisions. Identified in popular polemic with Archbishop Laud and serving as a diocesan chancellor, Duck emerges from a context preoccupied with the claims of bishops to govern their dioceses, and his exploration of the early-medieval Church rested upon the qualities that made a bishop reformed. Duck's work stands in tension with Gauden's assessment of the basis of episcopal rule. Gauden's work identified the distinguishing features of reformed bishops and filled in characteristics of reformed episcopacy by drawing comparative points from European reformations. Duck's attempt to delineate reformed episcopacy differed from Gauden's. Duck's argument complicates the approach that Gauden had taken, that was to distinguish between medieval and reformed episcopacy. Duck blurred what were for Gauden separate ecclesiastical realities, bringing a member of the medieval prelacy into the orbit of reformed episcopacy.

Conclusion Justifications for the authority and status of the English episcopate became implicated in challenges posed to the rule of bishops and the question of whether one could be reformed and be a bishop. Defences of episcopal authority transmuted over the course of the seventeenth century, incorporating citations of Erastian, Apostolic, and reformed authority. John Gauden proposed that the reformed character of English bishops reflected the ecclesiastical polities of contemporary European churches. For Duck, such reflections came from a distinct historical personage. Bishops' detractors (and often their victims) traced a largely negative continuity in episcopal rule, rhetorically failing to find divergent conduct between concerning Church lands, E. F. Jacob, The Fifteenth Century 1399–1485, Oxford, 1961, p. 233. 45 Duck, The Life of Henry Chichele, dedicatory epistle. 46 Thomas James, An Apologie for Iohn Wicliffe, shewing his conformitie with the now Church of England, Oxford, 1608. 47 See , Pioneers of the Reformation in England, London, 1964, pp. ix, 24. 91 unreformed to reformed bishops. But neither Gauden nor Duck summoned up in writing an episcopate which had dropped from the sky fully reformed. Rather, the reformed episcopacy was a matter of emphasis, a point made by Duck's delineation of a medieval prelate who stood out markedly from his brethren. Seventeenth-century writers identified the reformed basis of their power and offered statements reconciling their office and the reformation of the English Church. Gauden wished to convince firstly the religious authorities of the Commonwealth and then the returning royal court that reformed approval could be found for the exercise of episcopal authority. The ambiguous circumstances of the translation and publishing of Duck's work make questions of actual authorship as uncertain as questions of audience, but in casting Chichele as a harbinger of reform, his point on the distinction between reformed and unreformed bishops was clear. However, his making these points does not mean that these perspectives prevailed. The reputation of the episcopate and of individual members of the bench of bishops for being popish remnants persisted throughout the seventeenth century. But this reputation merely gives added significance to episcopal statements of reformed authority, as bishops stressed not merely their power but their purpose, one which they insisted could cohere with the imperatives of reform.

92

'... not likely to command attention or to conciliate general esteem': the Revd John Vincent, First Clergyman at Moreton Bay 1829

Jennifer Harrison The University of Queensland1

Following the 2008 compilation of The Brisbane Anglican Companion: A Dictionary of the Diocese of Brisbane, 1859-2009, to commemorate 150 years since establishment of the See of Brisbane, several of the compilers wanted to be involved with another project. We undertook to compile biographies of nineteenth century Anglican clergymen who had served in the district. As the Rev‟d John Vincent was the first to be stationed at Moreton Bay his career provided an obvious starting point for this researcher. Arriving at Port Jackson in January 1828, Vincent already had encountered many problems on the outward voyage. Later that year he was posted to the Moreton Bay penal settlement but did not take up his duties until March 1829. A short nine months later he had been ordered to return to Sydney after a decidedly unhappy experience. Not only had he quarrelled bitterly with Commandant Patrick Logan but also he had alienated many other civilians at the station as well as adding to the frustrations of both his superior, WG Broughton (who penned the title words) and Governor Lt Gen Ralph Darling. Vincent‟s attempts to bring religious comfort to the convicts, military and administrators at the depot had failed disastrously. At a time when clergy were in desperately short supply to fill numerous positions emerging throughout the rapidly expanding colony, why was it so difficult for Archdeacon Broughton to find a parish for this man, particularly when his moral character had never been questioned and his numerous family were reliant on him for sustenance? This is his story.

By 1828 the colony of New South Wales had developed in all directions in the forty years since its founding with both its urban and rural populations adjusting to the sheer distance from their previously known world and the intriguing diversity of its residents. The frontier town of Sydney contained the basics of most essential services while the ever-expanding rural districts were attracting a rapidly growing population. Also by this time, remote penal settlements had been established at Port Macquarie, Island and Moreton Bay while attempts to ensure a British presence continued at Melville Island, Port Essington and Raffles Bay. Even before he left England in 1824, the recently appointed Archdeacon of New South Wales, the Reverend and Venerable Scott, recommended an increase in the number of chaplains for the colony, a plea he was to reiterate regularly during his time in New South Wales2. When reporting to Governor Ralph Darling on 1 May 1826, he

1 An abbreviated form of this paper was delivered in Galong at a conference in 2006 and aspects of Vincent‘s role at the penal settlement is further explored in the author‘s forthcoming book on female convicts at Moreton Bay. 2 This is the form of address accorded Scott by Earl Bathurst on his appointment. The first chaplains had been appointed by commission from the King and initially were under the 93 once more rued the lack of personnel, emphasizing a critical need throughout the colony for spiritual guidance and the provision of education. Scott pointed out that between 1820 and 1825 the population had increased by 12,427 souls and the out-stations then settled could not be serviced even if clergymen rode upwards of thirty miles a day between huts and emerging centres.3 On 31 March 1828, fourteen Church of England chaplains and four catechists were working in New South Wales.4 While the newly created rural centres were in desperate need of ministers, the penal settlements had their own specific requirements, if any positive encouragement was to be given to the much touted rehabilitation of inmates. For their part the convicts welcomed the clerics in their midst, even though most of them had rarely attended Sunday services in the slums of London, Liverpool or Leeds, and most did not revere those responsible for spreading the Word. Nevertheless from the time of their arrest, convicts found church representatives contributed considerably to their new circumstances. Petitions for mercy, or later submissions for commutation of sentences, needed the support, and most importantly the signature, of a clergyman as did several other privileges. Pleas for family reunification, pardons and any request requiring a character reference were dependent on a spiritual guide's knowledge of the candidate. Further, while serving their sentences, mandatory attendance at church parades and school sessions provided welcome relief to manual labour and tedious routine.5 Convicts, an army detachment and a few civilians had been stationed at Moreton Bay since September 1824, firstly at Redcliffe and then, from May 1825, at Brisbane Town6. As the settlement grew, the necessity for providing religious guidance towards rejection of criminal activities for these recidivists became evident. Archdeacon Scott was the first cleric to venture to the northern outpost in June 1827.7 Because he 'had been authorised to make use of His Majesty's Ships in the performance of his duties' Scott arranged with Captain Henry Rous of the Rainbow to convey him to Port Macquarie and Moreton Bay. Governor Darling was invited to join the expedition as he also desired to visit these areas but, surprisingly, immediate control of the governor. As the colony developed, more chaplains were sent out, who, on their arrival, received their nominations to the different chaplaincies from the governor. Under an order by Governor Macquarie, dated 15 September 1819 they were placed under the control and superintendence of the principal chaplain. In 1819, the English statute, 59 Geo.111, cap. lx, was passed, providing for the ordination of clergy for the colonial service. See Historical Records of Australia [HRA], Series 1, Volume 11, p. 419 for Scott‘s appointment under Letters Patent erecting the Archdeaconry; p. 444 for draft of charter of incorporation for management of church and school estates referring to Scott by title and p. 925 on appointment of chaplains. 3 HRA, Ser. 1, Vol. 12, p. 309. 4 HRA, Ser. 1, Vol. 14, p. 78 lists all personnel and their locations as at 31 March 1828. 5 See Allan M. Grocott, Convicts, Clergymen and Churches: Attitudes of convicts and ex- convicts towards the churches and clergy in New South Wales from 1788 to 1851, Sydney, Sydney University Press, 1980, particularly Chapters 2 & 3. 6 J.G. Steele, Brisbane Town in Convict Days 1824-184, St Lucia, University of Queensland Press, 1975, pp. 1-29. 7 The Rainbow was scheduled to leave Sydney on Tuesday 12 June 1827 according to The Australian, 8 June 1827. The vessel returned there on 5 July after also visiting Newcastle on the outward voyage and Port Macquarie on the homeward, Ian Hawkins Nicholson, Shipping Arrivals and Departures Sydney, Vol. 2, 1826 to 1840, Canberra, 1977/1981, p. 22. 94 did not enjoy the same entitlements as had been arranged for the Archdeacon.8 While in Brisbane, Scott baptised four infants during his short stay.9 As a result of this visit, Sydney decision makers, both government and ecclesiastical, observed at first hand the imperative for a chaplain.10 On 3 January 1828 the Church Corporation requested the Governor to provide a residence at Brisbane where church services could be held as they intended to move the catechist, John Layton, from Sutton Forest to Moreton Bay.11 Layton had arrived in New South Wales on the Princess Charlotte on 17 February 1823 as a free person.12 In 1824, when employed as a muster clerk with the Colonial Secretary's Office, he had married colonial-born Rosanna Roberts.13 Despite an early promotion and although he had obtained no formal qualifications, Layton decided to pursue a career as a catechist when he was appointed to Sutton Forest.14 Layton was described in the 1828 census, as a catechist in Sydney and it appeared that he travelled between the two centres regularly. In Sydney he was a parishioner at St James Church, the parish where he was married and where his two daughters were baptised in 1831 and 1834.15 But despite the best plans and intentions, Layton never set out for Moreton Bay. The Reverend John Vincent, who originally had been ordained for the diocese of Winchester, arrived in Sydney from Cork on the Elizabeth 4 on 12 January 1828.16 Immediately the thirty-seven year old chaplain complained to officials about lack of discipline on the journey out and of the disrespectful treatment he and his family received on board, including the

8 Darling later was reprimanded by Huskisson when Rous presented a bill for the Governor‘s ‗entertainment‘ on this ship of war. The Secretary of State for Colonies informed Darling that he was ‗only justified in availing yourself of this mode of conveyance under circumstances of the most pressing emergency‘. Darling responded that he had only taken one aide and one servant and considered the cost so much less than using a government ship. He also regretted ‗that so little importance was attached to the inspection of the detached settlements‘. He reminded the London official of the ‗great fatigue and suffering‘ which always attended such trips ‗which even the kindness and attention of Captain Rous and the comforts of His Majesty‘s Ship Rainbow were not sufficient to exempt me‘. See HRA, Ser. 1, Vol. 14, pp. 9-10; 329-330. The Honorable Captain Henry John Rous was the second son of the first Earl of Stradbroke. Darling named Stradbroke, an island in Moreton Bay, in Rous‘s honour after this expedition. 9 The children baptised included Letitia Logan, the daughter of Commandant Patrick Logan and his wife, Letitia. See State Records of New South Wales [SRNSW], 1827/1820-1823, July 1827, Reel 5001. 10 Report of Scott to Darling 25 September 1827, forwarded to Huskisson, 27 March 1828. HRA, Ser. 1, Vol. 14, pp. 49-50 nominating Brisbane Town as the site of both a parsonage and school-house which would be used as a chapel. 11 SRNSW, 4/1963, 28/570, 3 January 1828, Corporation Office to Colonial Secretary. 12 Eds Malcolm R. Sainty & Keith A. Johnson, Census of New South Wales, November 1828, p. 236 as Leyton. 13Reg. Gen. NSW, 1824, Vol. 3B, Entry No. 3300. SRNSW, 2/8305, pp. 51-4, Reel 6028, affidavits re marriage. 14 Linda Emery, Tales from a churchyard: All Saints Church and Cemetery Sutton Forest, Exeter, NSW, 2004, p. 29. 15 Reg. Gen. NSW, Ann: 1831, Vol. 1, Entry No. 10407; Louisa, 1834, Vol. 18, Entry 604. 16 Vincent‘s birth year is estimated as 1791 with a possible baptism on 6 April 1792 at Chalcombe, Northamptonshire. I thank Mrs Leone Cable for details of his ordination. SRNSW, 4/6981, 1828, Minutes of evidence and papers re charges brought by Revd John Vincent against the surgeon and master of the female convict ship Elizabeth. 95 loss of possessions valued at £150.17 As this ship carried Irish female convicts, not unexpectedly the number of Protestants was small with the result that the minister was required to attend to only twelve of the 194 on board. He testified he was 'frequently insulted by the obscene and profane Songs and expressions' which took place amongst drunkenness, debauchery, cohabitation and blasphemy. Darling immediately referred Vincent's charges to London officials, who in turn, contacted the Irish authorities. On receipt of the requested explanations and after consultation with the Commissioners of the Navy, Home Secretary, Sir Robert Peel, 'expressed his very strong dissatisfaction' with the conduct of the surgeon- superintendent and the master of the ship. Peel recommended that both Captain William Cock and Dr Joseph Hughes should lose their gratuities and the medical officer never again be employed in the convict service.18 Vincent's complaints had been vindicated. With wife, Eliza, and four daughters, initially Vincent was despatched to Parramatta to work with the Reverend Samuel Marsden. After six months there, in July 1828, Assistant Chaplain William Cowper advised the Colonial Secretary that Vincent had been appointed to Moreton Bay. After receiving news of his relocation, officially dated 11 September 1828, Vincent delayed any moves while trying to bargain with the authorities. Initially he cited his own illness but finding the Archdeacon persistent, reluctantly agreed to the move. Scott already had indicated to the governor his misgivings about Vincent's 'feeble and nervous state' and his objections.19 The clergyman then submitted his request to take three servants and demanded two cabins and a seaman's berth on the vessel taking them north. He further indicated he wished to take a few sheep, pigs and some poultry.20 With all this negotiating, the family did not arrive at the northern posting until 2 April 1829 on the coastal vessel, the Isabella. By now a son, Edwin Henry, had been born on 2 February and the baby accompanied seven-year old Caroline Elizabeth, five-year old Charlotte Augusta, four- year old Alicia Maria and Mary Reeves, aged twenty-seven months.21 To assist Mrs Vincent was the servant Catherine Flynn, who had travelled from Cork with the family, as well as a recently appointed children's nurse, Honora Crotty. Their laundry servant, Louise Cook, had absconded on the eve of departure rather than go to Moreton Bay.22 A month later Vincent sent his first report from Moreton Bay to church authorities in which he made seemingly extraordinary requests for his establishment. He urged the urgent erection of the promised building for services, which the parson considered 'should be capable of containing

17 SRNSW, 4/6981, Minutes of evidence and papers re charges brought by Revd John Vincent against the surgeon and master of the female convict ship Elizabeth. 18 National Archives Ireland, Chief Secretary‘s Official Registered Papers, Whitehall 25, advice to Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, the Rt. Hon. Lord Francis Leveson-Gower, from S.M. Phillips, 19 November 1828. 19 HRA, Ser. 1, Vol. 14, p. 562. 20 SRNSW, 4/2005, 28/7908, 4 October 1828, filed with 28/10347. 21 These ages were given in the census in November 1828; therefore all the children would be at least another five months older at the time of their arrival at Moreton Bay. 22 SRNSW, 4/3794, 29/24, Reel 749, 23 June 1829. Darling ordered that Vincent be informed of her detention. 96 about 1000 persons' with galleries for extra people. Next he wanted a sexton/bell ringer, a clerk and a grave digger, appointed and rationed by the government. He suggested they could act as his servants when not needed for other duties, plus he wanted better clothing for the clerk who would also assist with Divine Service. While he approved of the teaching available through the 57th Regiment personnel, Vincent wanted a larger school house built in a more 'eligible situation' and also he wanted another site for the burial ground. He added another note remonstrating that his rations were too expensive but was assured that his purchase price was just above cost, in accordance with regulations covering the few civilians at the station.23 In July the Church Corporation became concerned when once again he applied for his wages more than a quarter in advance despite already having them provided six months ahead of time before he left Sydney.24 In August 1829 new penal settlement regulations were put into effect. These had been recommended by a board consisting of William Dumaresq, James Busby and Edward Deas Thomson who submitted a report which was adopted almost in its entirety.25 The 1829 regulations comprehensively stated the overall concepts of a penal settlement with Clause 25 specifying the necessity to perform Divine Service twice every Sunday when all officers, troops and convicts, apart from those on immediate duty, were required to attend.26 Both Darling and his successor, Governor Sir Richard Bourke, wanted to ensure that a clergyman was included as part of each penal establishment but after Vincent's tenure, one did not return to Moreton Bay until 1837 when a Church Missionary Society man, trained in Lutheran rites, took on the role.27 By September 1829 Vincent's relationships within the settlement were proving as galling as already experienced by church and government authorities in Sydney. During this month over a period of only four days, sixteen letters crisscrossed the fifty or so metres between the minister's house and Commandant Logan's office sometimes in the care of the second- in-charge, Lieutenant Thomas Bainbrigge. Despite the temporary absence of the commanding officer, Vincent insisted on precise paperwork before burying a prisoner, he ignored the military second-in-command, upbraided the medical officer and then contrarily sent marriage banns concerning a convict to Sydney without either advising the commandant or awaiting his imminent return to Brisbane Town. Although Vincent was convinced he was acting according to instructions of both the governor and the archdeacon with regard to the marriage notification, he seemingly was

23 SRNSW, 4/2005, 29/4199 filed with 28/10347, 2 May 1829. 24 SRNSW, 4/2031, 29/4142; 4/2037, 29/5319; 4/2040, 29/5919; 4/2042, 29/6255. 29/5539, Stipend requested to cover up to 31 December 1829 and a cow for Vincent requested by Corporation on 13 July 1829. 25 Logan acknowledged receipt of these Regulations on 22 September 1829, see SRNSW, 4/2081, 29/7493, filed with 30/6779. 26 1829 regulations are detailed in SRNSW, 4/7088.1, 4/7088.2, July 1829; Minute No. 104, reproduced in HRA, Ser. 1, Vol. 15, pp. 105-16. 27The Revd Johannes Handt was employed by Bourke to establish contact with the Aborigines at Moreton Bay but when his efforts were unsuccessful, Handt assumed chaplaincy duties for the convict establishment and the early months of free settlement until replaced by the Revd John Gregor in January 1843. 97 unaware of specific conditions applying to penal settlements.28 After Logan reprimanded him with a settlement order and then, in turn, was admonished by the governor for lowering Vincent in the eyes of convicts, the determined Logan sent off an exasperated request to the governor asking him to comply with the minister's desire for recall, insisting that 'the whole tenure of his conduct since his arrival at this station has been calculated to excite discontent and insubordination'.29 Nevertheless the unhappy cleric ultimately received an unexpected accolade. Testimony in support of Vincent was recorded by a prisoner in a book published in London in 1836.30 William Ross, a convict twice sentenced to transportation to Australia, who detested Patrick Logan, appeared delighted with the tension between these two men for whom he, on at least one occasion, acted as an intermediary.31 He wrote:

The appearance of this Revd. Gentleman on the Settlement of Moreton Bay, was in fact, an eye-sore to Logan, for he considered, that his wicked and diabolical acts, might be strictly and carefully watched. ... In fact, on every opportunity, he shewed a disposition to insult this Revd. Gentleman. ... Hostilities became violent between Logan and Vincent, a paper war took place between the parties, the highest authorities were made acquainted with it, the result of which, was, that Mr. Vincent was withdrawn from the settlement, and not Logan. Why? Because the latter was the favourite of Governor Darling, although Mr. Vincent, was one of the heads of the Church, and that Mr. Vincent for exercising his functions, which he received from the Archbishop of Canterbury, the next individual in rank to his Majesty the King of England, should be withdrawn from his situation, which gave the public an opportunity of judging him in fault, and a marching captain of a Foot Regiment was allowed to remain in his situation without any public enquiry taking place, because he was a favourite of governor Darling. – Would this have been permitted to take place in England? I say no!32

The recently arrived Archdeacon William Broughton, who replaced Scott in August/September 1828, was reluctant to withdraw the only available candidate to provide religious support to the penal station but, after consultation with him, Governor Ralph Darling finally ordered that Vincent should be relieved on 7 October 1829 after a bare six months residence.33

28 SRNSW, No. 12, 14 September, 1829, Vincent to Logan. 29 SRNSW, 4/2047, 29/7494, 14 September 1829. 29/7534; 4/2058, 29/7657; 29/7896 filed with 29/10273. 30 William R[os]--s, The Fell Tyrant or the Suffering Convict, London, J. Ward, 1836, edited & annotated by Jennifer Harrison and J.G. Steele, Brisbane, Royal Historical Society of Queensland, 2003. All page numbers refer to this version. 31 SRNSW, 29/7494, 11 September 1829, ‗A verbal message was sent to me this morning through the medium of a prisoner who had received his instructions from Overseer Ross, requesting my attendance at the Burial ground...‘. 32 The Fell Tyrant, p.45, 47. In his discussion of the Moreton Bay settlement, Ross glorified John Vincent, not only because he respected men of the church but also because it gave him further opportunity to denigrate the anti-hero of his book, Captain Logan. 33 SRNSW, 4/2047, 29/7896 filed with 29/7494. 98

As a passage could not be arranged until 17 December on the Mary Elizabeth and the family did not reach Sydney until Christmas time. At this time the Reverend was very ill so Vincent immediately was posted to the Sydney city parish of St James to fulfil Hill's duties. Vincent's willingness to extend his ministrations at St Phillip's in York Street during the Reverend William Cowper's indisposition, won the bishop's support in obtaining an additional salary allowance for him. Vincent applied for a payment of £2.10s for each month spent in the north to compensate him for losses incurred because penal settlement regulations prohibited him from cultivating glebe land to grow maize, tobacco, yams or any crops which may have incited the prisoners to plunder. The payment was authorised by the Executive Council.34 At this time Vincent, despite being thoroughly aggrieved with the Moreton Bay commandant, supported him at an enquiry. The enquiry was convened because on 12 June 1830, Governor Ralph Darling laid before the Executive Council a letter from Captain Patrick Logan.35 In this missive Logan wanted the Attorney General to proceed with charges against Edward Smith Hall, the editor of the Monitor newspaper, who had printed a scurrilous attack on the commandant, accusing him of murdering a convict by excessive flogging. Among the witnesses called, the Council heard testimony from two civilians who served at Moreton Bay, Assistant Surgeon Henry Cowper and the Reverend John Vincent, neither of whom could be regarded as a friend of their superior officer. Five days later after hearing evidence, the Council recommended that Hall should be prosecuted for libel.36 Perhaps, given the current climate of Darling's unpopularity, press hostility and Wentworth's growing support for underdogs, this was a case of officials presenting a unified front to protect their own against perceived convict and emancipist attacks. The entire exercise proved futile when Captain Patrick Logan was killed by natives before Hall's trial could take place. Despite this service, Vincent's importunate personality very quickly exhausted his bishop's patience. When the Reverend Frederick Wilkinson was removed from Newcastle, Broughton wrote a confidential report, which Darling promptly forwarded to Under Secretary Hay in London, explaining why the former Moreton Bay minister was not the man to fill the vacancy. Broughton considered that Vincent was not likely to command attention nor to conciliate general esteem. 'Indeed I am under a full persuasion that, if he were to be stationed at New Castle, not many Months would elapse before a fresh arrangement would become necessary.'37 Eventually a niche was found for the unpopular cleric late in mid-1833.38 Although Vincent remained disgruntled and unhappy, the thoroughly irritated bishop tersely reminded him that 'the chief thing wanting to make it commodious is a willing and

34 SRNSW, 4/2075, 30/503 filed with 30/4340; 4/2081, 30/6770. 35 SRNSW, 4/2081, 16 May 1830 for Logan‘s letter. 36 SRNSW, 4/1516, 12 June, 17 June, 13 July, 19 August 1830. Sandy Blair, ‗The ‗convict press‘: Edward Smith Hall and the Sydney monitor‘, in Denis Cryle ed., Disreputable profession: Journalists and journalism in colonial Australia, Rockhampton, Central Queensland Press, 1997, p. 27. 37 SRNSW, 4/2066, 30/996, 28 January 1830; 4/2076, 30/4540, 7 June 1830. HRA, Ser. 1, Vol. 16, pp. 29-30. 38 Emery, Tales from a churchyard, pp. 30-1. 99 content disposition'.39 Vincent served the next part of his ministry at Sutton Forest, a parish he took over from the Reverend Thomas Hassall who gradually was being relieved of some of the more scattered posts within his enormous district. The portion inherited by Vincent was still vast and he could visit places like the Towrang stockade only quarterly, and some areas only half-yearly. During his time here the benighted cleric fell on hard times.40 In the 1830s his family continued to increase when a second son, Alfred Richard, was born in February 1832, and further daughters, Emma in June 1833, Medora Ada in August 1835 and Clara Victoria in November 1839. In an 1838 letter to Broughton, by the then Bishop of Australia, Vincent enumerated his many troubles. During the past year while he was residing in a house rented from the Nicholson's, he was robbed at different times to an amount exceeding £100. Nevertheless when ordered to leave that residence, due to a lack of accommodation in the district, his real problems began. Firstly Vincent had to part with his household furniture and other property at a much lesser value because he was obliged to send his family to Sydney when no other quarters could be located. He estimated this involved a loss upwards of £150. He then boarded with the Badgery's but to maintain both this expense and that incurred by his distant household, he exceeded his income by an additional £200. Vincent was at pains to point out that his family deprived themselves of 'almost actual necessaries and observed the most rigid economy'. Another £150 was spent in bringing them back to Sutton Forest which did not include the extra furniture and goods needed to replace those sold earlier. By now the minister's debts exceeded £600. His creditors had placed bills with their attorneys resulting in law proceedings with the result that bailiffs were at his premises and an auction was ordered if discharge was not effected immediately. Others were threatening similar action. Vincent wrote that he had hoped to induce them to wait about two years when he might be in a better position to pay by installments. He also assured the Bishop that far from being remiss in allowing this crisis to occur, he 'had calculated on some little degree of Christian feeling' being shown him by his chief creditor. That person also was aware to the 'alarming and dangerous illness' suffered by the bed-bound Mrs Vincent for the past five months. All these exigencies had reduced the poor man to a very weakly state.41 As a result of intervention by Bishop Broughton, on 8 May 1838, under an arrangement approved by Governor George Gipps, Vincent organised a deed with C. Chambers and C. Campbell as trustees, under which his children would receive money instead of the land grants usually awarded to the issue of clergy. This was renegotiated again in 1844, with business men and legislative councillors, John & Robert Campbell, as

39 G.P. Shaw, Patriarch & patriot: William Grant Broughton 1788-1853, Colonial Statesman & Ecclesiastic, Carlton, Melbourne University Press, 1978, p. 52. 40 SRNSW, 4/7338, 1831 NSW Civil Establishment, Returns of Presbyterian & RC Chaplains & Commandants Military District; 4/1121, Allowances to Clergy and families, 1826-1835, 1830-1838; 4/4564, Mr Vincent‘s papers given out with 44/3661, 8 May 1844. 41 SRNSW, 4/4564, 44/3661, 8 May 1844, Vincent to Broughton. 100 trustees.42 Vincent was next nominated to the Emu and Castlereagh districts in late in 1840.43 Over the years he remained financially embarrassed and in poor health while he carried out the duties of a parish priest, attending to baptisms, burial services and marriages in addition to administering to the increasing local population. Ten years later, aged sixty-four, the Reverend John Vincent, died on 2 January 1854 at Penrith and was buried at Parramatta.44 While it is very easy to concentrate on perceived personality deficiencies, some responsibility must be apportioned elsewhere. One seeming lapse occurred with the selection of candidates for work in the Australian colonies. With such a desperate need and so few prepared to take families to the outposts of empire, those charged with recruitment happily accepted any who were willing and whose health appeared sufficiently strong. But even these criteria were not maintained when faced with the crisis of filling needs. In 1838, while still awaiting the arrival several of the nine clergymen requested the previous year, Bishop Broughton made an urgent submission for a further eighteen chaplains for specific areas which had fulfilled the obligatory financial outlays to subsidise a minister. These, he very precisely indicated, were in addition to all previous allocations whether the priests had arrived or not.45 The surviving records impute that Vincent was a misfit in the society of early New South Wales. He appeared a man who insisted on deference and respect for his station yet colonial life brought him little joy. He was subjected to the many trials and tribulations facing impoverished parishes, each with varying degrees of penal rules with which he would not comply or simply did not seek to understand. Additionally in his personal life, he faced ill-health, poverty and overpowering debt, plus an ailing wife who had produced eleven children. Despite his hopes of living the life of a genteel country parson, this desire did not translate readily to climatic or geographical conditions in New South Wales. Vincent experienced a difficult journey to New South Wales, a nightmare existence for eight months at Moreton Bay, and throughout his career he quarreled often and vehemently with fellow churchmen and civilian and military authorities. He did not hesitate to complain at length whenever he felt hardly done by and this grumbling correspondence became his legacy. He was a dispirited and dejected man for most of his ministry and was buried in an unmarked grave barely noticed by the community. The real tragedy was that he was not the only Anglican clergyman who ventured to the young land to suffer derision and failure as Vincent's New South Wales contemporaries such as the Reverends John Keane, Elijah

42 Mitchell Library, Av2mss. In the deed his surviving children were detailed as Caroline Elizabeth, Charlotte Augusta, Alicia Maria, Mary Reeves, Alfred Richard, Emma, Ada Medora and Frederick William. James had died in 1828, Edwin in 1830 and Clara in 1840. 43 ‗Notes and Corrections‘, The Rev. John Vincent, Historical Society of Queensland, Vol. 1, No. 2, Feb 1916, p. 99, indicates that Vincent‘s last entry in the Sutton Forest parish register is dated 20 April 1840 and those in his new district extend from 27 December 1840 to 6 November 1853. 44 SMH, 5 January 1854. Probate: NSW, Series 1, No. 2801, Vincent John, Penrith, deceased 2 January 1854. 45 HRA, Ser. 1, Vol. 19, pp.244-5. 101

Smith, Benjamin Vale, Frederick Wilkinson and Charles Wilton also did not cope with the very different conditions. Regrettably, the situation was similar in the Port Phillip and Newcastle dioceses as well as in the Catholic, Presbyterian and Baptist churches who all appointed personnel inadequate to the enormous task.46 Tribute, therefore, is due to those who succeeded.

46 Grocott, Convicts, Clergymen and Churche, pp. 222-3. 102

'Queensland is Catholic as a general rule': Anglo- Catholicism in Queensland, c.1860-2010

David Hilliard Flinders University

In the mid-twentieth century the Anglican Church in Queensland was widely regarded as uniformly Anglo-Catholic, though the reality was more complex. The assertive Anglo-Catholicism of the far north, for example, was very different from many parishes in suburban Brisbane which adhered to the moderate „Prayer Book Catholic‟ tradition. This paper surveys the development of Anglo-Catholicism in Queensland from the first signs of Tractarianism in the 1850s to the present. It examines the sources of Anglo-Catholic influence, the spread of Anglo-Catholic doctrines and forms of worship in each diocese, with the occasional eruptions of opposition from Protestant-minded Anglicans, attitudes to Roman Catholicism, and the various strands that emerged within Anglo-Catholicism. Finally, the paper explores the changing shape of Anglo-Catholicism in Queensland since its peak of influence around 1960, the divisions created by the ordination of women to the priesthood and other issues, and the secession of Anglo-Catholic traditionalists since the mid-1980s to the Anglican Catholic Church and other bodies.

During 1955-56 an Anglican Franciscan friar, Charles Preston, visited Australia, New Guinea and New Zealand to conduct a series of retreats and missions. After his return to England he wrote a series of articles in the weekly Church Times on what he had seen and done. Brother Charles, as he was known, was an astute observer of the ecclesiastical scene, and he identified clearly enough some of the problems facing the Australian Anglican Church at that time. Naturally he picked up ideas and impressions from those with whom he associated. 'I was told, on arrival', he said, 'that I should find the Churchmanship rising with the average temperature of the dioceses as they approached the Equator', which neatly summed up the difference at that time between Tasmania and North Queensland. He compared relations between Protestants and Roman Catholics in Sydney with Belfast, whereas in Queensland, where Archbishop Halse had given him 'a tremendously heavy programme', such doctrinaire Protestantism did not hold sway, as Queensland was 'Catholic, as a general rule'.1 Brother Charles's perception was accurate enough. When seen from low Church or evangelical dioceses in southern Australia, the church in Queensland in the 1950s seemed to be uniformly Anglo-Catholic. It was widely believed that Sydney Anglicans who moved to the far north were urged by their clergy to bypass the local Anglicans and worship with the soundly evangelical Baptists or Presbyterians. However we should not

1Church Times, 3 May 1957, p.11. For this paper I have drawn extensively upon , ‘The History of the Church of England in Queensland’, PhD thesis, University of Queensland, 1962; Jennifer Harrison, comp. and ed., The Brisbane Anglican Companion: A Dictionary of the Diocese of Brisbane, 1859-2009, Corporation of the Synod of the Diocese of Brisbane, Brisbane, 2008; and E.C. Rowland, The Tropics for Christ: Being a History of the Diocese of North Queensland , Diocese of North Queensland, Townsville, 1960. 103 assume that the Catholic tradition in Queensland Anglicanism had always been either dominant or homogeneous. As we will see in this paper, Anglo- Catholicism developed later than in many other parts of Australia, it had diverse expressions and during the last forty years it has changed and fragmented to such a degree that some see its history since then as one of decline and fall. Anglo-Catholicism grew out of the English Oxford (or Tractarian) Movement of the 1830s. The Tractarians stressed the importance of Catholic tradition, the central role of the church and its sacraments in conveying the means of salvation, and the apostolic succession through bishops as part of the divinely-appointed structure of the Catholic Church. They advocated the use of ritual and symbolism in worship both as an outward expression of Catholic doctrines and as a demonstration of continuity with the Pre-Reformation church. Throughout Australia the spread of the influence of the Oxford Movement can be mapped in each region and in particular churches by the reordering of church interiors to give prominence to the altar (raised up three steps from the chancel and surmounted by a brass cross and altar lights) and by changes in the manner of conducting public worship. These included the supplanting of the customary practice of celebrating Holy Communion once or twice a month after Morning Prayer by a weekly 'early celebration' so that the devout could receive communion while fasting; a Choral Communion at 11am one Sunday a month instead of Morning Prayer; the observance of the liturgical calender with its saints' days, festivals and the season of Lent; the introduction of a surpliced choir which sat in carved choir stalls the chancel; and the celebrant at Holy Communion wearing a coloured stole and taking the eastward position, with two lighted candles on the altar. Initially, as in England, these external ceremonial innovations were accompanied by the teaching of Tractarian doctrine. However, what was accepted as standard Anglican practice went up decade by decade. By the 1900s in the colonial capitals most evangelical clergy wore a surplice instead of a black gown for preaching, held weekly celebrations of Holy Communion and had robed choirs and vases of flowers on the holy table. The visible indicators of a definite Anglo-Catholicism were more controversial: the wearing of eucharistic vestments, reservation of the Blessed Sacrament, a daily , the ceremonial use of incense, the use of terms such as Mass and Father, provision for auricular confession, and (in only a few churches) public devotions before the Blessed Sacrament and Marian devotion.2 Anglo-Catholicism was a relatively late arrival in Queensland. The majority of the clergy in the new diocese of Brisbane, says Howard Le Couteur, appear to have been high church 'with a Tractarian colouring' while lay Anglicans were generally broad church (and Protestant) in outlook.3 The first clergyman of Tractarian sympathies in the Brisbane-Moreton Bay area was probably H.O. Irwin in the 1850s, a decade after the first supporters of the Oxford Movement appeared in Sydney and Hobart. In

2For a historical survey of Anglo-Catholicism in Australia, see David Hilliard, ‘The Anglo-Catholic tradition in Australian Anglicanism’, St Mark’s Review, no. 158, 1994, pp. 14-22. 3Howard Le Couteur, ‘Brisbane Anglicans, 1842-1875’, PhD thesis, Macquarie University, 2006, p. 396. 104

Queensland these high church clergy confronted lay Anglicans who were hostile to innovations in worship and ceremonial which they saw as evidence of Romanism and a threat to the Protestant nature of the English church. In Brisbane a row erupted in 1855 over the introduction of an 'offertory' (collection) during the service at St John's and there was another in 1865 over the unProtestant wording of some hymns in a newly- introduced hymnbook.4 This discontent led to the founding from 1868 of several independent congregations that called themselves the Free Church of England; by 1875 they had faded away.5 By the end of the 1870s at least three Queensland parishes held a celebration of Holy Communion each Sunday: St John's and All Saints' in Brisbane and St Paul's in Rockhampton. The number of weekly communicants, however, was very small – the average at St John's was eleven – and for the great majority of Queensland Anglicans church attendance meant Morning or Evening Prayer. Liturgical change was minimal. If we chart the spread of Anglo-Catholic influence in Australia in the 1890s the largest concentration of clergy of known Anglo-Catholic views and connections was in . One observer of the ecclesiastical scene regarded Adelaide approvingly as 'one of the most Catholic dioceses in Australia'.6 This impression is reinforced by the membership list of the (Anglo-Catholic) Confraternity of the Blessed Sacrament which in 1900 had twenty-three 'priests associate abroad' in Australia: thirteen of these were in Adelaide diocese, four in Brisbane, one in North Queensland.7 In both Sydney and Melbourne there were a handful of churches such as Christ Church St Laurence and St Mark's Fitzroy that had a reputation for 'advanced' ritual, and in a few country towns in New South Wales enthusiastic clergy were introducing Anglo-Catholic practices. But for those who looked for signs of the spread of the Catholic Faith in the Church of England, Queensland seemed to be a distant backwater with little to report. However, this was partly a matter of geographical isolation and a lack of information across parish and diocesan borders. Down South who knew what was happening in (say) Charters Towers or Mackay or Drayton? In some parishes, moreover, there was definite Anglo-Catholic teaching but plain worship with neither candles nor vestments. Four principal agents of Anglo-Catholic influence in Queensland can be reconstructed. The first were individual bishops who over time shaped the theological colour of their diocese through the clergy they ordained, licensed and promoted. Only two of the nineteenth century bishops, (Brisbane 1875-85) and (North Queensland 1878-90) were evangelicals but not narrow. All the others were moderate high church or Tractarian in outlook. The first identifiably Anglo-Catholic bishop was Nathaniel Dawes, first bishop of the diocese of Rockhampton (founded in 1892) who was a member of the Society of the Holy Cross, a secretive Anglo-Catholic clerical society. However, he did not encourage ritual innovation. His successor George Dowglass Halford (1909-20) built

4Le Couteur ‘Brisbane Anglicans’, pp. 295-303, 312-21 5E.D. Daw, ‘The Free Churches of England in Brisbane’, Queensland Heritage, vol. 3 no. 2, 1975, pp. 3-6 6The Banner and Anglo-Catholic Review, Sydney, February 1891. 7Confraternity of the Blessed Sacrament, Annual Report...1900, London, 1900, pp. 82-4 105 up the Anglo-Catholic tradition.8 The diocese of North Queensland went in a strongly Anglo-Catholic direction under its third bishop, John Oliver Feetham, who reigned for 34 years until his death in 1947. Bishop William Webber of Brisbane saw himself as non-party and committed to the ideal of a comprehensive and tolerant church, but he encouraged clergy of Catholic outlook to come into the diocese and during his episcopate it gained a reputation for being 'high'. Symbolising the theological shift, in 1910 at the consecration of the first portion of St John's Cathedral in Brisbane the four bishops of the ecclesiastical province of Queensland wore copes and mitres, the first such line-up in Australia. This would have been unimaginable at the time in New South Wales or Victoria. , previously bishop of New Guinea, was the first archbishop of Brisbane (1921-33) who enjoyed Catholic ceremonial and could be described as an Anglo-Catholic. All subsequent archbishops have been on the Catholic wing of Anglicanism, though not all would have regarded themselves as Anglo-Catholics. The second factor was the influence of clergy with Anglo-Catholic views imported from England. The church in Queensland, to provide an adequate pastoral ministry over a vast area, relied heavily until the interwar years on clergy recruited from England. By the 1890s, reflecting new currents within the Church of England, these tended to be 'high' rather than 'low'. As in other parts of Australia, some of these young English clergy were enthusiastic Anglo-Catholics who wanted to plant the Catholic Faith in the antipodes without the obstructions they often encountered in England. In many country towns they introduced teaching and ceremonial (and use of the title 'Father') which gained the support of some lay Anglicans but alienated many others, especially those who were irregular churchgoers. The result was a cleavage, which persisted for several decades, between high church clergy and predominantly low church lay people. Linked to this were the bush brotherhoods which were formed, first in Queensland then in every mainland state of Australia, to provide a pastoral ministry, outside the parochial system, to outback and rural areas with a scattered population.9 The first was the Brotherhood of St Andrew founded by Bishop Dawes at Longreach in 1897. Later there was the Brotherhood of St Barnabas (Herberton, 1903), the Brotherhood of St Paul (founded as the Charleville Bush Brotherhood, 1904), and the Brotherhood of St John the Evangelist (Dalby 1938). Dr Ruth Frappell's paper in this volume examines the working and influence of these brotherhoods. The majority of the first generation of bush brothers came from English upper- middle-class backgrounds and were university graduates, mostly from Oxford or Cambridge. They included a high proportion of Anglo-Catholics with missionary zeal. One of them was Father Cyril Barclay who joined the

8R.H.H. Philp, ‘George Dowglass Halford: An English Bishop in the Queensland Bush’, M.Litt thesis, University of New England, 1982; Alex P. Kidd, ed., Halford: The Friar Bishop, Church Archivists’ Press, Brisbane, 1998. 9R.A.F. Webb, Brothers in the Sun: A History of the Bush Brotherhood Movement in the Outback of Australia, Rigby, Adelaide, 1978; Ruth Frappell, ‘The Australian bush brotherhoods and their English origins’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, vol. 47, no.1, January 1996, pp. 82-97; T.W. Campbell, Religious Communities of the Anglican Communion: Australia, New Zealand and the South Pacific, Canberra, 2007, pp. 104-9, 112-3, 117-8. 106

Brotherhood of St Barnabas in 1911 and later, as priest in charge of St John's Latrobe Street in Melbourne, triggered a huge row by his extreme teaching and flamboyant worship. Many of the early bush brothers were men of marked ability, remembered locally as 'characters'. Of those who served in the Brotherhood of St Barnabas in North Queensland between 1903 and the 1920s, five later became bishops in Queensland and elsewhere in the Australian church. One of them was Reginald Halse, archbishop of Brisbane in 1943-62. To provide an alternative to Roman Catholic boarding schools, in 1920 the Brotherhood of St Barnabas founded All Souls' School Charters Towers, which for some years had an important place in boys' education in the far north. (There is an unsympathetic portrait of the school – 'St Jim's' at 'the Taws' – in Thea Astley's novel The Multiple Effects of Rainshadow). The third agency was St Francis' Theological College.10 This was founded in 1897 as the Brisbane Theological College, a residential college which trained local candidates for the ministry in Queensland. Everywhere in Australian Anglicanism the theological colleges played a crucial role in shaping the theological outlook and liturgical practice of the students whom they prepared for ordination, and each college was in turn shaped by theology of its principal. The theology that prevailed at St Francis for its first eighty years was derived from the moderate wing of the Anglo-Catholic movement, but the college also tolerated the views and practices of those who were seen as 'extreme'. The indicators were these: the college chapel with its daily Eucharist at the centre of college life, the wearing of cassocks, a devotional life based upon the liturgical year, and the insistence that the Church of England was the ancient Catholic Church of the English people, its continuity (especially the apostolic succession) unbroken at the Reformation. Until the 1950s its representative theologian was the English bishop Charles Gore. The fourth influence was the religious communities. The revival of the religious life within Anglicanism, which Henry VIII and Thomas Cromwell had abruptly terminated, was one of the first results of the Oxford Movement. In Australia religious communities were first established in those places where there was a body of sympathetic clergy; every Anglo- Catholic bishop aspired to have a community in his diocese. The Queensland church provided a uniformly hospitable environment, and religious communities of women and men had a stronger presence there than anywhere else in Australia. In Brisbane the first of these was the Society of the Sacred Advent (SSA), founded in 1892 by Caroline Balquy who had received some training in the religious life in an old-established English sisterhood, the Community of St John the Baptist at Clewer. Under the leadership of Emma Crawford (Mother Emma), the superior from 1905- 39, the SSA took on a range of welfare and educational works, overstretching its resources: it never had more than thirty members. These works included the management of boarding schools for girls in Brisbane, Townsville, Herberton, Charters Towers, Rockhampton and Yeppoon, a hostel for schoolgirls at Charleville and St Martin's Hospital

10Bill Stegemann, Striving Together for the Faith of the Gospel: A History of St Francis’ Theological College, 1897-1997, Brisbane, 1997. 107 in Brisbane. Through these schools the SSA sisters instilled the forms of Anglo-Catholic worship and piety among several generations of girls, especially from rural areas, who became the mothers of the next generation of Queensland Anglicans. The bishop of Rockhampton in 1907 approved the creation of the Community of the Servants of the Holy Cross, led by Mary Buckley (Sister Mary Gloriana). The community had an erratic and wandering existence until it expired in South Australia some forty years later. From 1912 to 1920 an English sisterhood, the Community of the Compassion of Jesus, had a branch house in Rockhampton where the sisters ran a home for unmarried pregnant women. In Brisbane Father Robert Bates of All Saints' Wickham Terrace in 1928 founded a Franciscan community, the Daughters of St Clare; among its members for six months in the early 1940s was the poet Gwen Harwood. In 1948 its three professed members were admitted to the Society of the Sacred Advent.11 Apart from the bush brotherhoods, the first men's community in Queensland was the Oratory of the Good Shepherd, which originated in Cambridge. From England in 1925 it sent a party of clergy and young laymen to found a house in Rockhampton. The Oratory priests staffed the cathedral parish and ran a boys' school at Barcaldine but the poorly planned venture lasted only five years.12 In 1958 a few members of the Brotherhood of St Barnabas, which had already evolved into a teaching brotherhood staffing a school at Ravenshoe, decided to form themselves into a permanent teaching order, the Community of St Barnabas. Despite the guidance of the Society of the Sacred Mission, the experiment lasted only four years. Bishop John Lewis of the Society of the Sacred Mission was bishop of North Queensland in 1971-95. Brother Charles's Australian visit in 1955 prepared the way for the Society of St Francis to found a house in Brisbane in 1965, as part of its expansion to the Pacific region.13 In every Australian colony and state one or two churches emerged as the flagships of the Anglo-Catholic movement: churches that set the pattern which others aspired to follow. In Queensland it was All Saints' Wickham Terrace in central Brisbane, which under C.G. Robinson moved in an Anglo-Catholic direction from the 1880s, while its neighbour Holy Trinity Fortitude Valley remained firmly low church.14 We can chart ritual developments at All Saints' quite precisely: altar cross and ornaments 1884 and lighted candles 1893 (the first in Queensland); a celebration of Holy Communion on holy days 1885; eucharistic vestments on weekdays from 1885 and on Sundays from 1903; the observance of All Saints' Day as the church's patronal festival 1899; Midnight Mass at Christmas 1903; daily Eucharist for a few years from 1904, resumed in 1918; Choral Eucharist replacing Matins as the main Sunday service 1905; incense 1923; reservation, in a tabernacle in the Lady Chapel 1924; High Mass every Sunday (without communicants) 1925; Devotions before the Blessed

11Campbell, Religious Communities, pp. 27-9, 36-42, 54-9. 12George Tibbatts, The Oratory of the Good Shepherd: The First Seventy-five Year , Oratory of the Good Shepherd, Windsor, Berkshire, 1988, pp.20-21. 13Campbell, Religious Communities, pp.127-9, 136-7, 144-6; Petà Dunstan, This Poor Sort: A History of the European Province of the Society of St Francis, Darton, Longman and Todd, London, 1997, pp. 185-97. 14D.L. Kissick, All Saints’ Church, Brisbane, 1862-1937, Brisbane, 1937. 108

Sacrament after Evensong 1930s; Benediction, c.1960. High Mass followed the Western rite ceremonial laid down in Ritual Notes with hymns from The English Hymnal. This pattern of worship and ceremonial was similar to 'Catholic centres' in other capitals such as Christ Church St Laurence in Sydney, St George's Goodwood in Adelaide and St Peter's Eastern Hill in Melbourne, as well as major centres of Anglo-Catholic worship in England such as St Magnus the Martyr and All Saints', Margaret Street. For much of the twentieth century the rectors of All Saints' were influential figures in the Queensland church, with contacts that stretched across many dioceses. Country clergy would drop into the rectory when they were in the city to pick up news, get advice and over a cup of tea discuss the state of the church. Two of the rectors were intellectual leaders at a time when few clergy had university degrees or read much theology: Farnham E. Maynard (1922-26) who later had a remarkable ministry of 38 years at St Peter's Eastern Hill in Melbourne and Peter Bennie (1953-63), later warden of St Paul's College in the University of Sydney. In 1925 a report on the state of the Anglo-Catholic movement in Queensland announced that during the previous twenty-five years 'a great deal has been done in advancing the Catholic Faith in this State'.15 This was true. In Rockhampton, for example, when George Halford became rector of St Paul's Cathedral in 1902 he propelled its worship in an Anglo-Catholic direction and set a standard which spread throughout the diocese, with the principal Sunday service a celebration of Holy Communion at 7.30am. The worship at the cathedral went up a few more notches in the mid-1920s when it was staffed by priests of the Oratory of the Good Shepherd: their innovations aroused strong lay protest. At St John's in Cairns in the 1890s Holy Communion was celebrated only twice a month (11am on the first Sunday and 8am on the third) but there were services on major holy days such as Ash Wednesday and Ascension Day. By 1906 Holy Communion was celebrated each Sunday at 7.30am. In 1911 the term Holy Eucharist was first used in the service register and in 1913 a new rector introduced the word Mass into general parlance, with Sung Mass as the main service on Sunday.16 In Brisbane, meanwhile, a growing number of churches adopted new patterns of worship. St Columb's Clayfield was the second church in the city to have eucharistic vestments. St Alban's Auchenflower from its foundation in 1923 was an Anglo-Catholic centre, seeking to hold services in line 'with the other churches practising and teaching the full Catholic faith'. It held its first High Mass on St Alban's Day 1927. Another parish founded in this period that was Anglo-Catholic from its inception was All Saints' Morningside. In Toowoomba, where there were two parishes, St Luke's became 'high' whereas St James', until the 1950s, was 'low'. One indicator of Anglo-Catholic influence was the founding in 1919 of a Brisbane chapter of an English society for altar servers, the Guild of Servants of the Sanctuary. Meanwhile, under Bishop Henry Newton (1915-22) and his successors, Anglo-Catholicism was planted in the missionary diocese of Carpentaria (founded in 1900), which initially embraced the Northern

15The Defender: An Anglo-Catholic Review, Adelaide, no. 26, April 1925, p. 23. 16St John’s Church, Cairns, Service registers, 1906-30, St John’s Church Archives. 109

Territory, Cape York and Torres Strait. Christianity had been introduced into the Torres Strait Islands in 1871 by the (Congregational) London Missionary Society which in 1915 transferred its work to the Anglican Church. The Torres Strait church was moulded into Anglo-Catholic worship and ritual by successive missionary clergy and through St Paul's Theological College at Moa Island where indigenous clergy were prepared for ordination. In 1922, the diocesan history records with a note of triumph, incense was introduced into Torres Strait, with a resin made from certain indigenous trees and thuribles made from halved coconut shells, 'and was readily accepted by the people who understood its significance in a manner which most Australian congregations could never guess at'.17 In most places lay Anglicans eventually conformed to the leadership of their clergy and accepted these ritual developments, but others resented that the plain worship to which they had been accustomed had been changed without their consent. Occasionally there were public eruptions of dissent, as in a letter written in 1926 to the Northern Churchman (but published in the Sydney evangelical paper the Australian Church Record) by 'Old Churchman' at Herberton. He deplored the 'knee-bending, crossing, and other Ritualistic or High Church practices' and objected to being told by a young clergyman ('I am easily old enough to be his father') that he was 'behind the times' and that it was his 'duty to come':

I hold to the religion and the forms of that religion in which I was trained…and being old-fashioned it is objectionable and repugnant to me to attend the services of the C. of E. of to-day with all its innovations. On the last few occasions that I did attend I found myself all through the service in a state of irritation amounting almost to indignation quite out of harmony with the nature of the function…18

At the same time, in Brisbane, there were rumblings in the diocesan synod. In 1924 an evangelical clergyman, supported by a body called the Church of England Defence Association, unsuccessfully moved that the synod 'deeply regrets the spread of extreme Anglo-Catholic Teaching and Practice in this Diocese'.19 Archbishop Sharp tried to hose down the strife. He urged mutual toleration and cautioned against the use of terms and expressions that caused distress to many Anglicans: '…I do not want this diocese to be labelled either a High Church diocese or a Low Church diocese. It is neither. It is a Church diocese.'20 Evangelical dissidents were not satisfied by soothing words: the rumblings continued until the end of the 1920s. In 1953 there was another eruption of Protestant protest when a group of laymen (but no clergy) attacked worship and practices they claimed were contrary to the doctrines of the Church of England. They were ridiculed in synod by Peter Bennie as

17John Bayton, Cross over Carpentaria: Being a History of the Church of England in Northern Australia from 1865-1965, W.R. Smith & Paterson, Brisbane, 1965, p.148. See also Anthony F.B. Hall-Matthews, A Remarkable Venture of Faith: An Examination of the Fiduciary Relationship between the Anglican Church of Australia and the Missionary Diocese of Carpentaria, Access Press, Perth, 2007. 18Australian Church Record, 21 January 1926, p. 6. 19Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane, 1924, p. 40. 20Church Chronicle, July 1924, p. 133. 110 the 'three blind mice' and their complaints were ignored by the diocesan press. The synod set up a committee on Lawful Authority; it duly presented majority and minority reports which were received and ignored. Frustrated by this inaction, in 1956 the revived Church of England Defence Association, supported behind the scenes by the combative Anglican Church League in Sydney, wrote an open letter to Archbishop Halse requesting him to ban the use of the English Missal, the practice of reservation and the Good Friday services (adopted in some Anglo-Catholic churches) of the Veneration of the Cross and the Mass of the Presanctified.21 When confronted with a controversy Halse habitually did nothing, believing that problems would eventually sort themselves out without intervention. A few years later, in a master-stroke, he brought one of the dissidents, lawyer (later Justice) Charles Wanstall into the diocesan establishment and appointed him chancellor. In the eyes of conservative evangelicals, the province of Queensland was alien territory, full of crypto-Romanists. Certainly among the clergy were very few strong evangelicals. As early as 1898 a member of the Sydney diocesan synod claimed that in the diocese of Brisbane 'if a man was a Protestant he had no place'.22 The Sydney fortnightly the Australian Church Record regularly published sour comments on Anglo-Romanism in action in Queensland: such as sermons on 'the sacrifice of the altar' in Longreach, an ordination in Townsville at which the priest was vested in a chasuble, 'illegal' liturgical practices in Brisbane churches, or the arrival of the Franciscan friars. However, they were wrong in their claim Anglo- Catholicism was only a step away from Rome. At the heart of the Anglo- Catholicism that became dominant in Queensland was its claim that Anglicanism, with its ministry in the apostolic succession, was an integral part of the Catholic Church and that the Book of Common Prayer should be interpreted in a Catholic sense. It was not papalist in outlook and indeed had a rather low view of Roman Church. This was partly based upon theological and historical objections to Roman claims and doctrines and to the nineteenth century papal condemnation of Anglican Orders as invalid.23 It was also derived from a dislike of the operations and political influence of the Roman Catholic Church in Queensland, its close association with the Australian Labor Party and its alleged dominance in the state public service. Bishop Feetham, for example, regarded the Roman Catholic Church as an interloper: he was 'the Catholic Bishop of North Queensland'.24 He described the Roman Church in terms that would have been applauded by militant evangelicals:

Rome has done some good work and much harm in this country…She has many worldly and some saintly priests, but her methods on the whole are unscrupulous. She raises her money by gambling and has demoralized Australians by her shameless example in that respect. She is sufficiently

21Australian Church Record, 12 and 26 April 1956. 22Church Chronicle, October 1898, p. 28. 23For example, [A.P.B. Bennie], ‘Ultramontanism’, Australian Church Quarterly, May 1962, pp. 28-39. 24[J.O. Feetham], ‘Catholicity’, Australian Church Quarterly, December 1946, p. 28. 111

powerful in numbers to cast off the restraints she observes in England and be her real self – crafty, tortuous and deceitful… Rome…has for many years been a most sinister influence in Queensland politics. She makes her 25% vote solid, and has been in alliance with Labour, not from conviction but for convenience…If Rome could reach a higher proportion she would go far to ruin Queensland.25

Other bishops may have been less forthright but the tensions were profound. Archbishop (Sir) Reginald Halse for many years had a warm personal friendship with Archbishop (Sir) James Duhig, but in the provincial cities the Anglican and Roman Catholic bishops usually met only on public occasions. When Bishop Ryan of Townsville returned to Australia from the first session of Second Vatican Council in 1962 he resolved to be more accepting of Protestants: 'So I've made up my mind to go back to Townsville and be charitable to that damn fool Shevill'.26 The culture of the Anglican and Roman Catholic churches were very different and there was little movement between them. Until the debates over the ordination of women in the 1980s very few Australian Anglo-Catholic clergy became Roman Catholics and those who did were junior in rank, without influence. One of those who went, in 1953, was Clive Britten, curate of All Saints' Wickham Terrace, who later became a Roman Catholic priest with a chequered career.27 Another, in 1965, was Geoffrey Jarrett, then a curate of St Paul's Cathedral in Rockhampton, who is now the Roman Catholic bishop of Lismore, New South Wales. In their attitudes to the ecumenical movement and relations with non-episcopal churches Anglo-Catholic clergy divided into two groups. The dominant view was that Presbyterians, Methodists and Baptists were outside the Catholic Church because they lacked the apostolic ministry: they were Christian 'bodies', not churches. Therefore it was necessary to keep one's distance: religious cooperation and reunion schemes were dismissed as 'pan-Protestantism'. Reflecting these views, the Anglican Church never became a member of the predominantly evangelical Queensland Council of Churches. But there were some Anglo-Catholics, mainly in Brisbane, who were sympathetic to the ecumenical movement. Reginald Halse, in the 1930s when he was bishop of Riverina, took up the question of intercommunion with the major Protestant churches and the reconciliation of ministries. As archbishop of Brisbane he supported the Australian Council for the World Council of Churches (later the Australian Council of Churches) and was its president in 1959-60. Ivor Church (principal of St Francis College in 1952-81) participated in the ecumenical movement in Brisbane from the mid-1950s and was one of the instigators of the teaching consortium, the Brisbane College of Theology (1984-2009). His successor, James Warner, was active in the Queensland Ecumenical Council of Churches, which in 1991 was reborn with Roman Catholic membership as

25Feetham to Wand, 4 January 1934, quoted in John S. Peart-Binns, Wand of London, Mowbray, Oxford, 1987, pp. 58-9. 26Jeffrey J. Murphy, ‘Of pilgrims and progressives: Australian bishops at Vatican II (the first session: 1962)’, Australasian Catholic Record, vol. 79, no. 2, 2002, p. 213. 27C.A. Britten, From Shadow to Substance: An Australian Anglican Clergyman Becomes a Catholic, Australian Catholic Truth Society, Melbourne, 1957. 112

Queensland Churches Together, and was a founding principal of the Brisbane College of Theology.28 (archbishop of Brisbane in 1970-80) was a member of the first Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission (ARCIC), set up in 1970, which sought to find common ground between the two communions. Anglo-Catholicism reached its peak of influence in Queensland around 1960. The diocese of North Queensland, which during the 1940s had become a distant backwater of the national church, leapt into prominence during the energetic episcopate of Ian Shevill (1953-70).29 His theology and political views were quite conservative but he had imagination, used the modern media effectively and enjoyed being an ecclesiastical gadfly. His views on almost everything were often reported in the press. At a time when most Australian bishops looked to England for inspiration, he got to know and admire the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States. Using American methods of church fund-raising, he tapped the wealth of the region and the growing prosperity of the 1950s, raising large sums through the Anglican Building Crusade to complete St James' Cathedral in Townsville and build numerous new churches in modern style. He pushed for low-fee church schools, comparable to those run by the Roman Catholic Church, staffed by the cheap labour of nuns and teaching brothers. Shevill's successor as home secretary of the Australian Board of Missions, (Theodore) Bruce McCall, who knew a lot about the Australian church, thought that North Queensland 'had the most outstanding body of clergy that I have ever seen in one diocese'.30 In 1959 he himself was appointed bishop of Rockhampton (later bishop of Wangaratta in 1963- 69). He too was energetic, attuned to new movements in the church and keen to present Anglo-Catholic teaching in modern dress.31 In the early 1960s the Anglican Church in Queensland appeared more unified in its worship and theology than almost anywhere else in Australia. A moderate and restrained Prayer Book Catholicism was dominant and there was a substantial minority of more definite Anglo- Catholics. Only two or three parishes in Brisbane were low church or evangelical.32 During the following decades Anglo-Catholicism began to fragment and its earlier certitudes became less clear. Anglo-Catholic institutions and organisations faded away. The last of the bush brotherhoods came to an end in 1980. Recruitment to religious communities dried up and their numbers shrank. Under Bishop John Lewis, the diocese of North Queensland from 1974 developed a self-supporting ministry, trained locally, and no longer sent candidates for ordination to St Francis' College.33 More clergy came into Queensland from other parts of Australia; theological diversity increased. New expressions of Anglicanism

28Christopher C. Levy, ed., James Warner, Priest, 1937-1993, Chris Levy Design, Brisbane, 1995, pp. 74-6. 29Ian Shevill, Half Time, Brisbane, 1966. 30Northern Churchman, June 1954, p.13. 31‘Theodore Bruce McCall, bishop, 1911-1969’, Australian Church Quarterly, March 1969, pp. 6-11. 32Notably St Andrew’s South Brisbane and St Stephen’s Coorparoo. 33John Hurtle Lewis, Finding Them Where They Are: Addressing the Leadership Crisis in the Church, Society of the Sacred Mission, Adelaide, 2009. 113 appeared. During the 1970s many parishes in North Queensland, Brisbane and the Sunshine Coast were influenced by the charismatic renewal movement with its emphasis on baptism in the Spirit, the exercise of spiritual gifts (such as speaking in tongues and healing) and exuberant forms of worship. It loosened up traditional Anglo-Catholic formality and created new friendships with Pentecostals. Evangelicals have grown in numbers and influence, especially in suburban Brisbane. There is also a cluster of theological radicals, influenced by the Sea of Faith Network and the writings of Bishop (whose works are addressed elsewhere in this volume). The changed face of the church is strikingly demonstrated in Cairns where the city's original parish church, St John's (with its six candles and disused tabernacle), is a centre of charismatic worship. The largest Anglican congregation is the Church of the Good Shepherd Edge Hill, which had Anglo-Catholic beginnings but is now firmly evangelical. The differences in outlook among Anglo-Catholics became more obvious. One of the divisive issues was marriage and sexuality, in particular remarriage after divorce and homosexuality. Faced with changing public opinion and new questioning from within the church, conservatives wanted the absolute moral rules to be restated more firmly: anything less was defeatism, a succumbing to the spirit of the age. Bishop Ian Shevill's trumpet blast was his 1966 synod charge (published as a pamphlet) on Christian Chastity.34 Liberals, on the other hand, urged that new knowledge in the human sciences and new understanding of scripture required the church to look again at its traditional moral prohibitions. A prominent spokesman was the Brisbane priest James Warner. The issue which aroused greatest passion, and fractured relationships, was the ordination of women. Ivor Church of St Francis' College, a cautious liberal, was a member of General Synod's Commission on Doctrine which in 1977 recommended that the Australian church take appropriate steps to enable the admission of women to all three orders of ministry. For many of his former students, he had betrayed the Catholic Faith. A few women from Anglo-Catholic parishes, such as Alison Cotes, became active in the Movement for the Ordination of Women. The majority of Queensland Anglo-Catholic opinion, however, regarded women priests as a breach with Catholic tradition, and felt that a decision on the nature of the apostolic ministry should not be made by one small branch of the Catholic Church. The movement for the ordination of women, they insisted, had no sound theological foundation but was merely an offshoot of secular feminism. When the issue was first debated in the Brisbane diocesan synod in 1977 a motion (moved by James Warner) supporting the principle of the ordination of women was defeated in the house of clergy (64:75) whereas the majority of lay representatives were in favour (100:78). Over the next decade, as elsewhere in Australia, many of the clergy changed their minds. In 1987 the synod passed a canon enabling the ordination of women as deacons and in 1992 it endorsed the ordination of women to the priesthood.

34Northern Churchman, July 1966, pp. 2-7; also an appendix to Shevill, Half Time, pp. 132-43. 114

In view of the strong Anglo-Catholic presence among the clergy and a section of the laity, it was unsurprising that south-east Queensland should become the centre of various bodies of self-styled Anglican traditionalists who were committed to defend the church from unjustified innovations and novel doctrines. Their stance was not very different from the low church protesters of the 1920s against recent Anglo-Catholics trends. The first of these Brisbane-based organisations was the Campaign for the Historic Anglican Male Priesthood (CHAMP), founded in 1985. Four years later this was absorbed into a national body, the Association for the Apostolic Ministry Australia, part of an international coalition of conservative Anglicans. It did not succeed in its objective. Women were ordained to the priesthood in Queensland: Brisbane 1992, Rockhampton 1992, North Queensland 1994, but not in Carpentaria. Conservative Anglo-Catholics bunkered down, feeling isolated and betrayed in a church that was being led in the wrong direction. In defence of 'traditional Anglicanism', a group in Brisbane in 1992 formed the Association of Traditional Anglicans Within the Anglican Church of Australia. This later became part of Forward in Faith Australia, linked internationally, which held its first national conference in Brisbane in 1999.35 Successive rectors of All Saints' Wickham Terrace played a central role in these traditionalist organisations. Three of them eventually gave up the struggle. Albert Haley resigned in 1987 to join the newly formed Anglican Catholic Church in Australia, part of an international grouping of churches called the Traditional Anglican Communion. It claimed to be not a breakaway body but the 'continuing Anglican Church'. The following year Haley was consecrated as its first bishop for Australia. Walter Ogle joined the Roman Catholic Church as a layman. David Chislett, an Anglo-Papalist, advocated the appointment of a bishop to provide 'alternative episcopal oversight' to traditionalists within the Australian church; in 2005 he himself was consecrated illicitly in the United States. After an inquiry by a diocesan tribunal he was removed from his parish and took part of the All Saints' congregation with him to form a congregation of the Anglican Catholic Church, now located in East Brisbane. He publishes his views on his websites.36 Outside Brisbane the Anglican Catholic Church has some eight congregations on the Gold Coast and provincial cities, some of them assisted by retired clergy who feel alienated from the style and outlook of the present-day church. Its largest parish is in Rockhampton. Meanwhile, in a complex sequence of events that followed from the abolition in 1995 of the diocese of Carpentaria and its absorption into the diocese of North Queensland, in 1997 a large section of Torres Strait Anglicans, led by their clergy, seceded from the Anglican Church of Australia to form the autonomous Church of Torres Strait.37 In 1998 this body consecrated its own bishops and affiliated with the Traditional

35Alison Cotes, ‘‘The monstrous regiment’– Anglo-Catholics in Australia since the ordination of women’, in John A. Moses, ed., From Oxford to the Bush: Catholic Anglicanism in Australia, Broughton Press, Canberra, 1997, pp. 299-317. 36http://www.northernbishop.com/index.html; http://bishopdavidsblog.blogspot.com/ 37David Wetherell, ‘Whatever happened in Torres Strait? Interpreting the Anglican split of 1998’, Journal of Pacific History, vol. 36, no. 2, 2001, pp. 201-14 115

Anglican Communion. Anglicanism in the Torres Strait was shattered into two (later three) rival groups, each with its own bishop. Everyone agreed that the schism was a religious and social disaster for the island communities, but it is hard to see how to repair the rifts. For much of the twentieth century Anglo-Catholicism profoundly shaped the Anglican Church in Queensland, though the great majority of Anglican churchgoers never thought of themselves as Anglo-Catholics: for them it was the only form of Anglicanism they knew. During the last forty years, however, as elsewhere, Anglo-Catholicism has fragmented into factions and its distinctive beliefs and practices have largely evaporated. In 2010 a diffuse and mildly liberal Anglo-Catholicism still pervades many parishes but Anglicanism in Queensland is now more diverse and pluralist than ever before.

116

A Cause for Joy: the Growth of Anglican Parishes in Brisbane in the 1950s.

Jonathan Holland The University of Queensland

This paper explores Anglican incentives in Brisbane in the mid 1950s, a time when Brisbane had a provincial tone despite the building of 5,000 new houses per year and the movement of many young couples to the suburbs. Archbishop Halse‟s vision was to build suburbs with churches at the centre, in a city where 33 percent of the population was Anglican. The extent to which his dreams were realised can be measured by surveying factors which fostered church growth in the 1950s, using three examples of suburbs that experienced growth. The paper also surveys population statistics, selected dimensions of the modern city, the university, the Gabba international tests, the development of the Gold Coast and the availability of utilities and services to provide further context. Ultimately, it offers insights into the ways in which the Anglican Church promoted church growth in some of Brisbane‟s new suburbs during challenging cultural changes.

A rare, three-minute colour video of an Anglican Confirmation at Christ Church St Lucia in 1957 – two years before black-and-white television began in Brisbane – offers a fascinating snapshot of Anglican parish life in a young suburb of Brisbane.1 A group of smiling, self-conscious teenage girls in white veils and dresses emerge from the wooden entrance of the church – which was also the parish hall – into the bright sunshine, followed by an equal number of boys in shorts, white shirts and ties, and short-back-and- sides hair cuts. A crucifer and acolytes in red cassocks and white surplices follow, then two elderly bishops in copes and mitres – Archbishop Reginald Halse (then 76 years-old, and Archbishop of Brisbane since 1943) and the assistant bishop Horace Dixon (88 years-old). The parish priest – Fr. John Rouse – stands talking to a small group, wearing a white alb, girdle and crossed stole over a black cassock. He would have worn the cassock publicly, including for Religious Instruction to Anglican children at Ironside State Primary school, just over the road from the church. Women are seen wearing hats and gloves, men are in white shirts, ties and suits. The church is clearly a hub of suburban social life. The layman Stan Dalgleish is there. Lean and sharp featured, he had been a member of the medical corps in World War II and on return to civilian life became Manager of the Wholesale Co-operative Society of Queensland. He was a natural leader and a member of the Diocesan Council and an elected representative to the national General Synod. He

1 Christ Church – a Confirmation, 1957, video duplication, kept at the Anglican Parish of Christ Church, cnr Central Ave and Ninth Ave, St Lucia, Queensland. The video records a ‗1954‘ date, but this impossible since Fr Rouse did not arrive in St Lucia until 1956 and left in 1958. More likely, the confirmation took place on 27 October 1957. The Parish Register indicates that 65 boys and girls were confirmed. See ‗Christ Church St Lucia Confirmation Register, 1957‘, kept in the Diocesan Archives, Church House, 419 Ann St, Brisbane. 117 served his local church as an altar server, churchwarden and Sunday School Superintendent and was instrumental in the formation of St Lucia parish. In these early days, on Sunday mornings he and a few others would carry a processional cross around the streets of St Lucia stopping at various houses to round up the children for Sunday School. A group of young children pose on the steps of the hall, the younger girls wearing bonnets. The camera pans around and for a few seconds, a row of F J Holdens and Morris Minors are seen, parked along a dusty, red-gravel road, perhaps Ninth Avenue. The film clip highlights the central place of young families in the local church in this expanding suburb, and suggests the formality of the time, and the fashions in clothing, cars and hairstyles. One in three people in Brisbane was a member of the 'Church of England in the Diocese of Brisbane' and they were fairly evenly spread throughout the suburbs. Brisbane at the time was emerging as a modern city. It had a university at St Lucia with eleven faculties and several thousand students, an international airport at Eagle Farm, a State Art Gallery and Museum, 51 acres of Botanic Gardens near the centre of the city, municipal libraries and swimming pools.2 The Gabba cricket ground hosted Test cricket, and in 1960 patrons witnessed the famous tied Test against Frank Worrell's West Indies team. International tennis matches were played at Milton, and horse-racing tracks could be found at Doomben, Albion Park and Eagle Farm. For the culturally minded, the 'big three' city theatre companies – Arts Theatre, Twelfth Night and the Brisbane Repertory Theatre Company – offered a variety of plays each year, complemented by a host of smaller, amateur local theatre companies.3 In 1955, people of Brisbane turned out in force to see Katherine Hepburn play Kate in Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. As well, the population was growing. By the mid-fifties, it exceeded the half-million mark, making Brisbane the third largest city in Australia.4 About 5,000 new suburban homes, many in the style of the distinctive wooden 'Queenslander' on stilts were approved for building per year and slowly eating into once-rural areas.5 New suburbs began to encircle the city: Stafford, Geebung, Zillmere, Grovely and Chermside in the north; Moorooka, Carina and Wynnum in the east; St Lucia and Indooroopilly in the west; Mount Gravatt, Holland Park, Acacia Ridge and Inala in the south.6 These suburbs marked the very edges of Brisbane. The southern tram terminus was at Mount Gravatt. A little further south, Sunnybank, just fifteen kilometres from the city centre, was still full of farmers' fruit orchards. Further out still, Beenleigh in the south, or Cleveland in the west were fully part of rural Queensland.

2 Colony to Capital: Brisbane as it was in the late 1950s, video recording, Maxwell‘s Multimedia Collection, Avalon Beach, New South Wales, 1958. 3 Jay McKee, Never Upstaged: Babette Stephens, her life and times, Temple House, Hartwell, Victoria, 2004, pp. 151-152; Connie Healy, ‗Radical Theatre‘ in Raymond Evans and Carole Ferrier, eds, Radical Brisbane: an unruly history, The Vulgar Press, Carlton North, Victoria, 2004, pp.187-192. 4 Queensland Year Book 1956, p. 44. The population of Brisbane at the 1954 census was 502,320. 5 John R. Cole, Shaping a City: Greater Brisbane 1925-1985, William Brooks, Eagle Farm, Queensland, 1984, p. 158. 6 Cole, Shaping a City, p. 160. 118

Many loved Brisbane: 'it was the easy going nature of the place that appealed', said Queensland journalist, Keith Dunstan. At the end of the day, one could 'wander out into the garden in bare feet to check the paw paws … [and enjoy] those marvellous sub-tropical evenings.' 7 Yet for others Brisbane was more a large provincial town than a proper city. It lacked art galleries, concerts and restaurants. The only two structures that symbolically defined the inner city remained the City Hall, completed back in 1930 and still the tallest building in the city, and the Story Bridge, completed in 1935.8 Both the Roman Catholic and Anglican cathedrals remained incomplete and only one major national corporation – Queensland's own Mt. Isa Mines – had its headquarters in Brisbane, creating an impression that this was a 'branch manager' capital city.9 There were growing infrastructure problems too. Many roads in the suburbs were unsurfaced (as the St Lucia video attests) and in dry weather could become dusty hazes creating an intolerable nuisance to householders.10 By the late 1950s, only a third of the city was connected to sewerage so that outdoor toilets littered the backyard landscapes of most new suburbs, encouraging wits to characterise Brisbane as a 'sentry box town'.11 Growing car ownership, stimulated by cheap petrol and easy parking was also creating problems. At Woolloongabba, not far from the famous Gabba cricket ground, a tram line, railway line and five roads intersected at what was known as 'Five Ways'. A controller from a tower directed trams, a traffic policeman directed cars, and a railway worker walked ahead of any trains, waving a red flag and ringing a bell. It could become chaotic. Dusty roads, 'sentry box' toilets and a dearth of cultural and business activities led many to think of Brisbane as provincial in tone, not yet a leading city alongside Sydney and Melbourne. The author David Malouf in his novel Johnno, dismissed Brisbane of the time as a 'big country town that is still weather-board and one-storeyed, so little a city that on Friday morning the C.W.A. [Country Women's Association] ladies set their stalls up in Queen Street and sell home-made cakes and jam.'12

Anglicans in Brisbane Archbishop Halse knew that the big challenge facing the post-War Anglican Church in Brisbane was to win the new suburbs. His aimed to build up 'community life with church buildings in the centre'.13 The new suburb of

7 Keith Dunstan, No Brains at All: an autobiography, Viking. Ringwood, Victoria, 1990, p. 161. 8 John Steele, The Brisbane River, 2nd edn, Rigby, Adelaide, 1976, p. 38. 9 Vivien Harris, ‗From Town to Metropolis‘, in Rod Fisher and Barry Shaw (eds), Brisbane: people, places and progress, Brisbane History Group Papers, no. 14, 1995, p. 134. 10 Brisbane History: from country town to modern city, video recording, Blacksmith Productions for the Seven Network, Brisbane, c.1997, which quotes 13,052 miles (or 20,883 kilometres) of unsurfaced roads in residential areas. See also Cole, Shaping a City, p. 174. 11 Harris, ‗From Town to Metropolis‘, p. 134; Cole, Shaping a City, pp. 181-182; Brisbane History: from country town to modern city, video recording. 12 David Malouf, Johnno, University of Queensland Press, St Lucia, Queensland, 1975, p. 51. 13 Church Chronicle, 1 July 1959, p. 195. 119

Stafford shows how this might happen. In the years after the War, it had been surveyed for a housing estate by the Queensland Housing Commission near the tram terminus. Look-a-like Commission houses, then shops and retail businesses soon sprang up, and in 1949, to accommodate the growing number of children a State Primary School was built.14 Private developers saw the potential and in 1957 'Stafford Heights' was opened. So confident were developers of sales that they offered potential buyers a free taxi service from George St in the city. Slowly the rural nature of Stafford changed as dairy farms were bought out and a tannery hemmed in.15 By November 1964, the Courier-Mail could describe Stafford, whose population had soared to 12,500, as a 'rapidly growing area for young people and healthy children'.16 For Anglicans a small wooden church, called St Clement's, made up of two army huts butted together had served as a worship centre since 1925.17 The suburb was part of the parish of St Andrew's Lutwyche, and once a month the rector of Lutwyche travelled to Stafford for worship. The growing congregation, made up mainly of young families, were keen to see their own autonomous parish. One couple, Bevan and Grace Thiele, settled in Stafford from Melbourne in 1952. In their first year, surprised that no Christmas liturgies were listed for St Clement's, they pushed their son's pram six kilometres to Lutwyche in the swelteringly hot and humid December sun.18 Such experiences, together with the growth of Sunday School enrolments and the formation by keen lay Anglicans of parish groups – the Church of England Boys' Society (CEBS), the Girls' Friendly Society (GFS) and the Mothers' Union (MU) – gave impetus to the call for Stafford to be made a parish in its own right. In 1956, parish boundaries were set and Fr Jack Madden, a former Bush Brother, became the first Priest-in-Charge. He won the love and affection of all and was regarded as a first rate parish priest. He was a heavily built man, who had a broad humanity and attractive, outgoing personality that gave him an influence even with people who might not naturally have shared his Anglo-Catholic sympathies. He remained at St Clement's for the next 30 years, allowing him to shape the church community around the daily Mass and regular visiting, inspiring his people with obvious confidence and pride in what he was about. In the early years, he wore his biretta and cassock in public. He could on occasions appear theologically almost Irish-Catholic. One year he announced the Ascension Day services in these words: 'My dear people, next Thursday is the feast of the Ascension, a Holy Day of obligation. There will be three Masses, so there will be ample opportunity for you to attend at least one of them. It is

14 John Mackenzie-Smith, Beacon on the Hill: a history of the Anglican church at Stafford 1865-1988, St Clement‘s Anglican Church, Stafford Queensland, 1993, p. 34f. 15 Mackenzie-Smith, Beacon on the Hill, pp. 53-54. 16 Courier-Mail, 5 November 1964, p. 21; Mackenzie-Smith, Beacon on the Hill, p. 74. The population of Stafford climbed from 5,460 in 1954 to 12,467 in 1961 to 17,692 in 1966. See Census of the Commonwealth of Australia 30 June 1954, vol. III – Queensland, part 1, table 1; Census of theCommonwealth of Australia 30 June 1961, vol. III – Queensland, part 1, table 1; Census of theCommonwealth of Australia 30 June 1966, vol. IV – Queensland, part 3, table 1. 17 Mackenzie-Smith, Beacon on the Hill, p. 40. 18 Mackenzie-Smith, Beacon on the Hill, p. 39 120 an opportunity for you after the Great Forty Days of to say goodbye to Jesus.'19 The clergy, in these years after World War II, experienced a confidence and security in their position in the local community. Together with the doctor, bank manager and teacher they belonged to the professions. They were accepted as a natural part of the social order and given respect by virtue of the position they held. One clergyman recalls boarding a bus soon after his ordination to the priesthood in 1952, dressed in smart black suit and hat, and wearing his white dog-collar. The bus was full, but one middle- aged lady stood to offer her seat. Being in his mid-twenties, he declined the offer, but she was insistent: he was a priest and others should stand to let a priest sit. Such respect for the office made it easier to build and develop in the local suburb. Fifty years later, such respect had evaporated. While in a lift at a hospital the same clergyman was spat at for being part of a church that had ostensibly protected sexual abusers. Madden's advent gave an immediate burst of energy. A Sunday School of several dozen became 160 each week in 1957, and 300 by 1960, straining space and teacher requirements. Average weekly communicants increased from 170 in 1956 to 400 in 1960. Financial giving to the parish jumped from £19 per week in 1958 to £70 in 1959.20 Similar stories of numerical and financial growth could be told in other new suburbs. The speed with which such growth occurred surprised many in the diocese. In November 1954, the diocesan paper, the Church Chronicle, headlined its front page, 'Congregations Growing!' In almost breathless excitement, the paper claimed that 'in the last seven years we have frequently seen Churches filled to overflowing. We assert … that congregations are growing larger'.21 By 1957 the paper thought this growth must represent a 'new outpouring of the Holy Spirit'. 'Everywhere there are abundant signs of fresh life, new enthusiasm and a return to God. … It is apparent to all … who go around the Diocese that in town and country great advances are being made. New buildings are being erected, more money is becoming available for expansion … and best of all, more people are coming to church for worship and instruction'.22 Whether this numerical and financial growth flowed over into spiritual depth is unclear and perhaps impossible to say.

Enriching the Suburbs How do we account for this growth? Three answers suggest themselves although they are not exhaustive. First, the churches were in a fortuitous position. There were, at this stage, limited opportunities for recreation in the suburbs. One journalist of the time noted that 'social workers regard some – though not all – new areas as little better than leafy slums … they too often have no kindergartens, no clubs, no playing fields, no parks, no swimming pools, no libraries, no public halls – and nothing for youngsters to do', leading to 'outer suburban boredom'. 23 A meeting of the Stafford Progress

19 Bishop Robert Beale, personal comments recorded in November 2004. 20 Mackenzie-Smith, Beacon on the Hill, pp. 59, 64 and 66. 21 Church Chronicle, 1 November 1954, p. 321. 22 Church Chronicle, 1 June 1957, p. 179. 23 Courier Mail, 2 March 1960, p. 2. 121

Association in the early 1960s lamented the lack of basic facilities, not just full sewerage, decent footpaths and bituminised roads, but there was no library, no public hall for large meetings or dances and no indoor recreational facilities. There was 'a mere half-acre of parkland in an area containing 2,000 homes and 5,000 children',24 and just one kindergarten with a waiting list of 154 toddlers.25 Parish groups therefore filled a void. One man recalled that 'in those days, the local community was the church; people knew, helped and respected each other. The binding together was the priest's duty'.26 In any parish there might be a range of diocesan organisations: GFS, CEBS, the Young Anglican Fellowship (YAF), the Comrades of St George (CSG), MU, the Church of England Men's Society (CEMS), a Sunday School, a Ladies' Guild, a Boys' Choir, an Adult Choir, an Altar Serving team and bible study groups. In 1952 CEBS had 18 branches and 350 members in the diocese. In 1960 it had 40 branches and 1,000 members. GFS had 74 branches in 1958 and 94 in 1960, almost one in every parish. The Mothers' Union had 60 branches in 1958 with 1,635 members, and 9 more branches two years later with nearly 2,100 members. These women's groups were particularly important. In the days when women were expected to resign their employment on marriage, parish women's groups offered opportunities for networking and socialising. A local parish church benefited from the willingness of young mothers to invest their time in church groups, bringing their talents and leadership skills to groups like GFS, or Sunday School teaching or Religious Instruction in schools. As a result, parish organisations, like other community groups – Girl Guides, Scouts, the Red Cross – flourished throughout the Fifties. A major Brisbane parish was St Stephen's Coorparoo. In 1957, it had 900 children enrolled in its Sunday School with 60 teachers, and 200 in various youth groups.27 The annual Sunday School picnic was a logistical nightmare, solved by booking a train to convey the 500 children and their parents from Coorparoo railway station to the Beenleigh Show Grounds. One of the first pedestrian cross-walks in Brisbane was placed near St Stephen's so that children could cross safely to church on Sundays. If the insights of the American political scientist, Robert Putnam can be applied to Australia, this was a time when participating in social activities and community affairs was much stronger than in subsequent decades.28 Putnam's research suggests that before the Sixties, Americans

24 Mackenzie-Smith, Beacon on the Hill, pp. 75-76. 25 Courier-Mail, 5 November 1964, p. 21. 26 Gary Brock, a parishioner of the Church of the Ascension, Camp Hill in the Fifties, quoted in John Boadle (ed.), Our Church: the story of the first 75 years of the Church of the Annunciation, Camp Hill, 1926-2001, privately published, 2001, p. 13. Brock was Head Server of the parish in 1958. 27 Ralph Bowles, ‗An Outline History of St Stephen the Martyr Anglican Church Coorparoo, 1922-2000‘, pp. 21-22, kept at St Stephen‘s Church, 343 Cavendish Rd, Coorparoo, Queensland. See the reports for GFS, CEBS and MU in Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane, for the years 1952, 1958 and 1960. 28 Robert Putnam, Bowling Alone: the collapse and revival of American community, Simon and Schuster, New York, 2000; Robert Putnam, ‗The Strange Disappearance of Civic 122 were more engaged in social activities and community affairs. They joined sporting teams, social clubs, trade unions, parents and citizens associations, churches, social action movements and political parties. They campaigned for social causes, read newspapers and attended rallies. Putnam called such participation 'social capital'. He observed that the generation that was marrying and having families in the 1950s belonged to twice as many civic associations as later generations. Through participation in clubs, community affairs and voluntary organisations, social skills developed and trust was increased. In a church context, a whole range of social benefits was fostered. Generations were linked, adults welcoming children, passing on the Christian code of conduct and cultivating a sense of obligation to the less fortunate. Teaching the history of the Church installed respect for the past, and stimulated responsibility for the future. Parish Annual General Meetings were worthy examples of the democratic ideal of people gathering to debate issues and reach collective decisions. 'Hard' virtues were honoured (sacrifice, charity, 'turning the other cheek'), and vices checked (greed, selfishness, hedonism). In such ways, a compelling model for participation in social life was commended. Putnam traces the decline of 'social capital' to the advent of television (which came to Brisbane in 1959). His research – if it can be applied to Australia – indicates that the pre-television Fifties were years in which citizens were more willing to engage in social activities and community affairs. The churches, along with other social and community groups, enjoyed a degree of vitality and energy that came from greater 'social capital' in the Fifties than in later decades. The churches accrued advantages in other ways too. Sunday trade was restricted. Chemists, newsagents and corner stores could open, but major retail shops had to remain closed. Gaming and racing opportunities on Sundays were non-existent.29 Hotels within a 40-mile radius of Brisbane could not open, Sunday hotel sessions not being introduced until 1970.30 Although there were no legislative restrictions on competitive sport on Sundays, convention dictated that sport be played on Saturday afternoons. These legislative and social boundaries left Sunday as a community free day that belonged ostensibly to the churches for worship.

The Socialisation of Teenagers A second reason for church buoyancy was that it had a clear role in the socialisation of teenagers. Parents looked to the churches to provide an environment in which children, especially teenagers, could appropriate the values that marked a sound moral life and good citizenship. The emerging teenage generation was something of a puzzle to their parents. Teenagers adopted distinctive clothing and hairstyles, listened to new forms of music,

America‘, Policy: a Journal of Public Policy and Ideas, Autumn, 1996, pp. 3-15. Although there are local studies of the loss of social capital in Australia, an Australian equivalent to the Putnam work, embracing a full overview, has not been produced. 29 Horse racing and the operation of gaming totalisators on Sundays were prohibited under The Racing and Betting Act 1954 to 1963. 30 The Liquor Act 1912-1965 allowed liquor to be sold on Sundays outside the 40-mile (64- kilometres) radius of Brisbane between 11.00am and 1.00pm, and 4.00pm to 6.00pm to bona fide travellers only. 123 and idolised their own 'pop' heroes. Unlike their parents, for whom a Depression and two World Wars had triggered caution and thrift, teenagers were growing up against a background of economic confidence and prosperity. They had therefore less regard for caution and resisted their parents' pressure to conform.31 Music was particularly important and became a symbol of teenage independence and distinctive identity. Rock 'n' roll made its first appearance in Brisbane in October 1956, coinciding with the release of a rock song, which topped the American charts, Heartbreak Hotel, sung by a heart-throb called Elvis Presley. Young people found this new music exhilarating: quite different to the crooning sentimentality of singers old enough to be their fathers, Frank Sinatra, Perry Como and Dean Martin. But parents were not so sure. Might not rock 'n' roll, with its repetitive, pulsating beat and mimetic affinities with sex, encourage riotous behaviour and sexual licentiousness? The Queensland author and Roman Catholic, Hugh Lunn reports a school lesson in which: 'Brother Adams … gave a lecture about the dangers of rock-and-roll … [which] made people involuntarily want to shake their bodies to the music. [He] warned that jiving with a girl could break down the respect you had for her'.32 Later generations may smile, but behind such sentiments lay genuine fears and a proper concern to warn and protect. When the initial screening of Rock Around the Clock was shown at Brisbane's Tivoli cinema on 18 October 1956 police patrolled the aisles to keep watch over the 'local jive junkies [who] went along in force … and behaved as if they had ants in their pants'.33 A month later disturbances broke out at a rock 'n' roll concert at the Brisbane Stadium. The Courier- Mail ran a front page headline: ''Rocker' riot in Brisbane' and even the Opening Ceremony of the Olympic Games in Melbourne had to share the page with this modest but sobering caption.34 The police, who attempted to impose a traditional code of seated, attentive concert behaviour on the teenagers, wrestled with those wanting to jive in the aisles. Fighting within the Stadium broke out again in the streets, 'numerous punches were thrown and young people struck across the head with handcuffs and felled.'35 In 1957, when Bill Haley and the Comets came to Brisbane as part of an Australia-wide tour, it was reported that should teenagers get out of hand he would play 'God Save the Queen', reasoning that they would then stand quietly to attention.36 If the rock 'n' roll phenomenon gave cause for concern, even more so did a subset of youth called 'bodgies' and 'widgies'.37 The Courier-Mail

31 Raymond Evans, ‗…To Try to Ruin: Rock‘n‘roll, Youth Culture and Law‘n‘Order in Brisbane, 1956-1957‘, in John Murphy and Judith Smart (eds), The Forgotten Fifties: aspects of Australian society and culture in the 1950s, special issue of Australian Historical Studies, vol. 28, no. 109, October 1997, p. 107. 32 Hugh Lunn, Over the Top with Jim: Hugh Lunn‟s tap-dancing, bugle blowing memoir of a well-spent boyhood, University of Queensland Press, St Lucia, Queensland, 1989, p. 303. 33 Evans, ‗…To Try to Ruin‘, p. 112. 34 Courier-Mail, 23 November 1956, p. 1. See also Evans, ‗… To Try to Ruin‘, p. 114; and Evans, ‗Rock ‗n‘ Roll Riot, 1956‘, p. 253 for other Brisbane newspaper headlines. 35 Evans, ‗… To Try to Ruin‘, p. 114. 36 Courier-Mail, 11 January 1957, p. 3. 37 Stratton, ‗Bodgies and Widgies‘, p. 13; Walden, It Was Only Rock‟n‟Roll, p. 46. 124 frequently portrayed bodgies and widgies as irresponsible, anti-social and even criminal, referring to them as 'the wilder teenagers'.38 In 1955 the State Labor Police Minister, Arthur Jones, tried to reassure the public, promising that he would 'wipe out the bodgies. This time we mean business.'39 Anglican leadership was not immune from these commonly held portrayals of youth maladjustment. Bishop Ian Shevill, the charismatic Bishop of North Queensland who was in England for the Lambeth Conference of 1958, visited two youth clubs. He described a meeting with 'Teddy Boys', England's equivalent of bodgies, a 'brainless, sex-obsessed, symbol of the post-war period', at a church dance: 'teenagers doing a sort of tribal lurch, their faces contorted into a mask of rhythm drugged ecstasy'. Seeing a 17 year-old, 'pseudo-crook leader', chewing gum and distracting others from his talk, Shevill gave him a dressing down: 'Now listen chum, you may not like my face any more than I like yours … there is a door at the back … use it or listen. You are supposed to be Christians, most of you are either liars or heathens because you do nothing about it'.40 Such comments reflect that, for many adults, teenagers represented, not so much an age to be delighted in, as a problem to be solved. There were various responses to the 'youth problem'. In 1960, the State government released a Report on Queensland Youth Problems and as a result initiated a 'Save our Youth' campaign, whereby youths between seventeen and 20 years-old would be targeted to 'keep the good ones good and make the bad ones better'.41 The churches were called on to play their part, the Report arguing that more assistance ought to be given to youth clubs and to Religious Instruction in schools because 'evidence would indicate that young people who have been raised in God-fearing homes, coming fully within the influence of the Church, rarely commit anti-social acts'.42 The rector of St Stephen's Coorparoo, the Reverend Jim Payne – the one with more than 200 in his youth groups – concurred. 'There is no actual bodgie problem at Coorparoo and we consider the reason for this is that the Anglican Church and the Roman Catholic Church and other denominations in the district are providing excellent facilities for youth'.43 In the Diocese of Brisbane, the Young Anglican Fellowship (YAF) was initiated in 1957, noting that there was an 'urgent need for more work among the 15 and over age group'.44 It rapidly expanded: nine branches and 290 members in 1958 became 65 branches by 1965 and thousands of members. A four-square program of spiritual, physical, mental and social activities aimed at balance in a young person's life. Dances were popular. At St Jude's Church Hall, Everton Park, one hundred pairs of feet stomped to pop songs, such as See You Later Alligator by Bill Haley and the Comets,

38 Courier-Mail, 2 March 1960, p. 2. See also Sydney Morning Herald, 21 January 1956, p. 2. A feature article asked, ‗what is a bodgie? … the word has come to mean ‗juvenile delinquent‘‗. 39 Evans, ‗Rock ‗n‘ Roll Riot, 1956‘, p. 250. 40 Church Chronicle, 1 October 1958, p. 298. 41 Courier-Mail, 3 March 1960, p. 2. See Walden, It Was Only Rock‟n‟Roll, pp. 40-41, for the background to the report, which he says was driven as a 1957 election issue. 42 Courier-Mail, 3 March 1960, p. 2. 43 Anglican, 6 December 1957, p. 12. 44 Church Chronicle, 1 March 1960, p. 87 on the origin, purpose and work of the YAF. 125 and There Goes My Baby by the Drifters. It unnerved the Parish Council – what was such stomping doing to the floorboards? They banned some of these songs.45 Camps, community work, dances, plays, talks and socialising made the YAF a great success in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In November 1959, the Camp Hill YAF group had the excitement of appearing on the newly established television and sang the Lord's Prayer to Geoffrey Beaumont's recently composed 20th century Folk Mass setting.46 There was a feeling in the community that the churches were doing a good thing 'by keeping the youth off the streets'.47 One result, not foreseen, was the erosion of support for another youth movement sponsored by the official national Anglican missionary organisation, the Australian Board of Missions (ABM), called the Comrades of St George (CSG). Brought to Queensland in 1945,48 it too followed a four-square program, corresponding to its Rule of Life: 'in worship regular; in study diligent; in witness effective; in service faithful'.49 Membership followed the keeping of a half- hour vigil of prayer, prior to the taking of the CSG Promise – to 'seek the Glory of God and the Extension of His Kingdom'.50 Behind such serious sentiments lay the intention to foster support for overseas missionaries and to give a focus for young people's aspirations for a better world.51 The initials 'CSG' were fondly promoted as standing for 'Christ Says Go!' and capture the sense of purpose, urgency and adventure of CSG. By 1955 there were 27 'Companies' in Brisbane diocese. Hundreds would turn out for the annual march at St Paul's Ipswich, the church home of an ABM missionary martyr, Mavis Parkinson, killed in New Guinea by the Japanese in World War II. Once YAF began, however, CSG began to lose its vitality. By 1960 the number of Companies in Brisbane Diocese had fallen to 20.52 The gradual demise of the Comrades would be one indicator and one contributing factor towards the steady decline of interest in overseas missionary work. Another initiative was the commencement of a university group called 'Anglican Society' or AngSoc in 1957, begun as a reaction to the interdenominational Student Christian Movement and non-sacramental

45 Mackenzie-Smith, Beacon on the Hill, p. 77. 46 Church Chronicle, 1 January 1960, p. 1. A photo shows 25 Camp Hill YAF members in the YAF uniform, boys in white shirts and ties, girls in white blouses, ties and dark skirts. 47 Church Chronicle, 1 August 1959, p. 233. 48 Anglican, 6 November 1953, p. 8. The CSG was born in 1928 in the Melbourne Town Hall at the end of a great ABM Pageant, which had run for several evenings, and in which St George was the central character. On the last night of the Pageant, the Vicar of St Peter‘s Eastern Hill, Canon Ernest Selwyn Hughes, walked on to the stage at the end of the performance, and pinned cardboard shields emblazoned with the Cross of St George on to the tunics of the main actors, and announced, ‗You are now Comrades of St George‘. 49 A Manual of Devotion for the Order of the Comrades of St George, Australian Board of Missions, Sydney, 1955, p. 7. 50 Ibid., p.6 and p. 9. The Rule of Life, Promise and CSG Prayer were also listed on the ‗Comrades of St George Membership Card‘, a copy of which is in the possession of the author. 51 Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane 1964, p. 182 52 Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane 1960, p. 177. 126

Evangelical Union, both of which seemed to have lost their drive.53 Anglican students felt 'that there should be some provision for Anglican instruction, worship and witness for students'.54 In 1958 AngSoc began its first full year and reported that the highlight of 'Orientation Week' was Archbishop Halse's visit to speak to nearly 200 Anglican Freshers. A dance attracted 'a great crowd of about 250 … making it the best success of the whole Freshers Week'.55 In 1959, the AngSoc had the largest membership of any voluntary group at the university: 245 members from about 3,500 university students.56 Despite these initiatives, the Anglican Church did not reach those most alienated from mainstream social life.57 YAF and AngSoc, as with other children's and youth groups, appealed mainly to those with some church affiliation already. This was not a bad thing in itself. These teenagers also needed a place to belong and space to gather with others their own age and the church's provision of such opportunities no doubt assisted their ongoing integration into social life. As well, some saw YAF groups as environments where young men and women might find appropriate marriage partners, and so form the basis of Anglican families for the future. All church traditions fostered youth groups, and in a time of sectarianism, the hope that one's own youth would marry within their own church tradition and avoid some of the complications of a 'mixed marriage' – especially with Roman Catholics – was a significant, if understated, contributing factor for the provision of youth groups.

Champion of Family Life Thirdly, the churches were seen to be the champions of family values and community morals: a kind of social conscience. Having survived the rigours of a Depression and a World War and now enjoying unprecedented prosperity and social stability, Australians wanted to protect and preserve what they had won, including the values of loyalty, thrift, hard work, self- reliance and mutual obligation. The pressure to conform to these values and be seen to be 'respectable' became one of the features of this time, perhaps more so in Brisbane because during World War II there had been a loosening of moral constraints and a degree of libertarianism, the result of hosting American soldiers. The fear of invasion had been real, especially by the end of 1941 and early 1942, and with one's personal future uncertain, it

53 The Student Christian Movement was, for some Anglicans, too broadly Christian, taking its cues from the social justice issues being promoted through the World Council of Churches. It was an early ecumenical organization, but whose guiding Christian doctrines were loosely articulated and unclear. There was some quiet concern that Anglican students should have a group more solidly established in the clear biblical and sacramental theology of Anglicanism. 54 ‗University of Queensland Anglican Society‘, paper presented to the National Conference of Australian University Anglican Societies, St John‘s College, Morpeth, 1960, kept at the University Chaplaincy, University of Queensland. 55 ‗Report of the Anglican Society to Diocesan Synod, June 1958‘, kept in the Diocesan Archives, Brisbane. 56 Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane 1959, p. 185. 57 Keith Rayner, ‗The History of the Church of England in Queensland‘, PhD thesis, University of Queensland, 1962, p. 578. 127 is not surprising that a degree of moral permissiveness emerged. After the War, an over-reaction occurred as Brisbane struggled to 're-establish an image of rectitude and sobriety – of nuclear family values, clean living and decent British restraint rather than questionable American excess'.58 An indication of just how narrow the parameters of respectability became in Queensland is suggested by the Queensland Literature Board of Review's banning of romance comics such as First Kiss and Love Secrets.59 More extraordinary was a gambling raid in 1956.60 Soon after 10pm, on 7 September a dozen officers of the Licensing Squad surrounded the Toowong Bowling Club and arrested 80 surprised bingo players, who were taken in ten patrol cars to the city lock-up. The next day, the Courier-Mail reported the 'city's biggest 'gambling' raid', with a front-page headline: '80 ARRESTED IN TOOWONG FOR BINGO'.61 Many of those arrested were elderly, though some were teenagers, reported the paper, adding a description of the illegal game, presumably for the benefit of its more law- abiding readers! Churches shared the concern for high moral standards and were apprehensive that a lowering of moral standards was occurring, demonstrated by the advent of pernicious magazines and books, a rising divorce rate, drinking, gambling, the reported increase in extra-marital pregnancies and 'materialism' and 'selfishness'.62 'Many … believe there is a moral rot at work', said an editorial in the Church Chronicle in October 1957. 'They look at the divorce statistics and the figures for juvenile delinquency and the awful spread of petty pilfering and they are certain that we need a new kind of vital religion'.63 To some extent the concern was reasonable. An inchoate shadow side to the respectable images of the times could just be seen. In 1953, three publications sounded the notes of future sexual permissiveness. The second volume of the Kinsey Report shocked many with its revelations of the level of adventure outside marriage. Ian Fleming's Casino Royale introduced James Bond 007, who had a taste for a variety of gorgeous women, and Hugh Hefner published his first edition of Playboy, which featured Playmate of the Month, Marilyn Monroe, in the notorious nude calendar pose.64 These were overseas publications, titillating the public and heralding the quest for looser sexual constraints, but as yet, not a challenge to the accepted parameters of respectability in Australia. The churches were more concerned about gambling and alcohol, especially Protestant churches. (Roman Catholics were more relaxed about both.) Modest forms of gambling had a long track record in Queensland.

58 Raymond Evans, ‗Crazy News: rock‘n‘roll in Brisbane and Bill Haley‘s ‗Big Show‘, 1956-57‘ in Barry Shaw (ed.), Brisbane: relaxation, recreation and rock‟n‟roll: popular culture 1890-1990, Brisbane History Group, Kelvin Grove, Queensland, 2001, p. 86. 59 Evans, ‗Crazy News‘, p. 86. The decision was based on the grounds that such comics emphasized ‗love at first sight‘ rather than obeying ‗the social conventions that require formal introduction‘ of couples. 60 Evans, ‗Crazy News‘, p. 86. 61 Courier-Mail, 8 September 1956, p. 1. 62 David Hilliard, ‗Church, Family and Sexuality in Australia in the 1950s‘, in Murphy and Smart (eds), The Forgotten Fifties, p. 143. 63 Church Chronicle, 1 October 1957, p. 7. 64 Peter Lewis, The Fifties, Heinemann, London, 1978, pp. 47-49 and pp. 59-60. 128

The 'Golden Casket' – a State sponsored lottery – had a history stretching back to 1916.65 Its acceptance was due in part to channelling profits towards worthwhile causes and presumably Anglicans were not averse to supporting this lottery.66 Horse racing also was an established aspect of Queensland life, with three horse racing tracks in Brisbane alone. Betting was tolerated as long as it remained 'on-course'. Occasionally the State government flirted with the idea of regulating illegal and widespread 'off- course' betting, but such hopes met stiff resistance from churches and other civic groups who saw in regulating 'off-course' betting an extension of the gambling culture and risks to the well-being of families. In 1954, Diocesan Synod stated its unqualified opposition to any movement to legalise 'off- course' betting on the grounds that the young would be particularly at risk.67 Nor could parishes use even modest gambling games – raffles and guessing competitions – to raise money for church purposes. The State Attorney- General was instructed by a long-standing Provincial Synod arrangement not to issue gambling permits to any Church of England organisation.68 With regard to drinking, the Temperance Movement was highly effective, despite – or because of – Australia's image as a country fond of alcohol and a strain of this austere spirit could be found within the Diocese of Brisbane. It was not unusual for the Church Chronicle to print letters from the Queensland Temperance League containing statistics of alcohol consumption, designed to alert readers to the dangers of drinking.69 Others adopted a more moderate line. Halse noted in his 1953 Lenten Pastoral address that while 'Excessive Drink and Gambling are threatening the stability of national life and undermining all sense of moral responsibility' there was nothing intrinsically evil with either. The danger resided in their excess so that the church in governing its own life ought to be a witness of moderation and restraint in a world that 'fails to distinguish between freedom and licence.'70 Many welcomed such a view as good commonsense. Yet this attitude of moderation was not easy to defend. When Mr Macklin introduced a private members bill in the 1953 Diocesan Synod and argued

65 Wendy Selby, ‗What Makes a Lottery Successful?‘, in Jan McMillen, John O‘Hara, Wendy Selby and Kay Cohen (eds), Gamblers Paradise, Royal Historical Society of Queensland, Brisbane, 1996, pp. 37-47. Gallup Polls of 1969 and 1972 claimed that State lotteries achieved an approval rating of 85 percent and 80 per cent respectively. 66 Selby, ‗What Makes a Lottery Successful?‘, p. 43. 67 Church Chronicle, 1 January 1955, p. 7; Anglican, 24 September 1954, p. 4. See also the 1953 Diocesan Synod motion which reaffirmed Synod‘s opposition to ‗S. P. (off-course) betting‘. Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane1953, p. 108. 68 Provincial Synod 1906 first expressed its unqualified opposition to gambling and called on all Anglicans in the Province to ‗set their face against the evil‘. In 1935, Provincial Synod requested the State Attorney-General to refuse permission for any Anglican parish or organisation to have permits for Art Unions, raffles, lotteries or other games of chance. This determination was reaffirmed by Provincial Synod in 1949. At the Provincial Synod of October 1964, Bishop Ian Shevill successfully sought that the arrangements made with the Attorney-General in 1935 be terminated on the grounds that individual dioceses were in a position to regulate the moral life of their own membership. See Barry Greaves, ‗Gambling – a History‘, October 2000, kept in the Diocesan Archives, Church House, 419 Ann St, Brisbane. 69 Church Chronicle, 1 August 1951, p. 243; 1 June 1952, p. 174; 1 June 1956, p. 171. 1 October 1964, p. 280. 70 Church Chronicle, 1 March 1953, p. 69. 129 that off-course betting was wrong, but that he could not see how parish raffles involved harm to anyone, it was quickly pointed out that the principle was the same in both cases.71 Those denouncing all forms of drinking or gambling found it easier to be consistent in their views. Those who argued for moderation laid themselves open to the charge of inconsistency, if not hypocrisy, and struggled to state clearly where the line of moderation should be drawn.72 One other moral issue exercised the minds of Christian leaders in the Fifties: the re-marriage of divorcees. There had been a rising tide of divorce since World War II. At the beginning of the 1940s, the number of divorces in Australia stood at 3,200 annually rising to a peak of 8,800 in 1947, and stabilising around there until the mid-1960s.73 A stigma was fastened upon those whose marriages failed, partly because divorce was believed to produce unhappy and maladjusted children. The causes of teenage delinquency were often traced back to broken homes.74 The State Report on Youth said: 'Investigations support the universally accepted opinion that divorce, separation and/or re-marriage tends to produce emotional instability in children'. 75 Church papers made the same point. If 'unity in a family is lost, there is wholesale disruption. Broken homes have evil effects. They bring lack of security to the child, unhappiness, divided loyalty'.76 Divorce created a pastoral problem for all church traditions since all were committed to the idea of marriage as both permanent and exclusive. For Brisbane Anglicans, Holy Matrimony was one of the five lesser sacraments. The question was what attitude should be taken to those whose marriages had become unhappy? Was it reasonable to expect a husband and wife to stay in a relationship that was more acrimonious than loving? It was a pastoral problem, made more acute by the desire some divorcees had to seek a blessing of their second union in church. While the great majority of Presbyterian, Methodist and Congregational ministers adopted a sympathetic approach and allowed re- marriage, the Roman Catholic Church and most Anglican dioceses allowed for no exceptions.77 Anglican bishops and clergy tended to follow the views

71 Church Chronicle, 1 October 1953, p. 299. 72 Rayner, ‗History of the Church of England in Queensland‘, p. 550. 73 Peter McDonald, Lado Ruzicka and Patricia Pyne, ‗Marriage, Fertility and Mortality‘, in Wray Vamplew (ed.), Australians: historical statistics, Fairfax, Sydney, 1987, vol. 10, p. 47. 74 Evans, ‗…To Try to Ruin‘, p. 109. Also A. E. Manning, The Bodgie: a study in psychological abnormality, Wellington, 1959, who argued that the ‗disturbed‘ behaviour of bodgies and widgies could be sourced back to ‗problems‘, such as broken homes. For a general assessment of family life in the Fifties, see D. W. Mc Elwain and W. J. Campbell, ‗The Family‘, in A. F. Davies and S. Encel (eds), Australian Society: a sociological introduction, 2nd ed., Cheshire, Melbourne, 1965, pp. 134-148. See also Courier-Mail, 3 March 1960, p. 2. 75 Courier-Mail, 2 March 1960, p. 2. 76 Church Chronicle, 1 January 1957, p. 12, reporting a talk by a policewoman to a Ministerial Fraternal. 77 Hilliard, ‗Church, Family and Sexuality‘, p. 137. Sydney Diocese allowed for divorce, if it met the conditions of the Matthean exception. In Matthew‘s Gospel, Jesus takes a stance against divorce ‗except for unchastity‘. Sydney Diocese interpreted this phrase as allowing for a re-marriage where it could be shown that the former partner had committed adultery. See also K. S. Inglis, ‗Religious Behaviour‘, in Davies and Encel, Australian Society, pp. 60-61. 130 adopted at the Lambeth Conference of 1948 that resolved that 'the marriage of one whose partner is still living may not be celebrated according to the rites of the Church'.78 The matter came to a head in 1959 with proposed Federal legislation for uniform divorce laws. At the Brisbane Diocesan Synod of June 1959 a motion protesting against the passage of the Federal Divorce Bill was unanimously passed.79 Moved by Mr Graham Hart, State Liberal member for Mt Gravatt, the motion objected to the provision for divorce after only two years desertion, instead of the preferred three years, and the provision of divorce upon failure to obey an order to restore conjugal rights. Such objections were symptoms of a deeper anxiety that divorce should not be too easy to gain. 'I say this Bill makes divorce too easy', said Mr Hart. Parties had to be made to realise that marriage was 'for keeps'.80 A meeting of the Australian bishops in Brisbane, over which Halse presided as Acting Primate, also opposed aspects of the Bill, while expressing appreciation of some of its benefits.81 Their opposition however was ineffectual although it did serve to publicise the concern the Church had for stable family life; and that was what it was all about. Whether the concerns were about gambling, alcohol consumption, divorce or other social issues the church was looking to protect the stability of family life. . Conclusion The provision of social groups and activities, contributing to the proper socialisation of children and teenagers, and championing the good of family life gave the churches a role and a place in 1950s Brisbane. These were buoyant days for Anglicans in Brisbane when numbers participating in parish churches were larger than they had ever been before. Not that all, by any means, found the local church met their needs. For the sake of perspective, it is important to keep in mind that the vast majority in the suburbs refrained from any participation in a local church. In 1957 – when the Church Chronicle thought they were witnessing a 'new outpouring of the Holy Spirit' – of every 100 people in the population, only 33 could be found in a church on a Sunday morning.82 The vast majority of Australians chose to stay at home and mow the lawn or wash the car or take the family for a drive or visit the grandparents or read the papers. Many found travelling to work each week, raising the children and working on the home, left little time for further social activities. The churches were important, but even in the buoyant fifties when congregation sizes were a cause of joy for all church leaders, still only under a third of the population participated in the

78 Hilliard, ‗Church, Family and Sexuality‘, p. 137. 79 Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane 1959, p. 91. The Federal Divorce Act unified divorce legislation around Australia. It also emphasised the importance of marriage guidance organisations to prevent marriage disintegration, and moved away from the concept of divorce as a remedy for matrimonial ‗fault‘ to the provision of divorce after five years separation regardless of the blameworthiness of the spouses. In other words, the Act moved towards ‗no fault‘ divorce. D. W. McElwain and W. J. Campbell, ‗The Family‘, in Davies and Encel, Australian Society, p. 137. 80 Courier-Mail, 18 June 1959, p. 7. 81 Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane 1959, p. 85f. 82 Morgan Gallup Polls, April-May 1955, nos. 1081-1092, the Roy Morgan Research Centre, North Sydney, 1955. 131 principal reason for the churches' existence, the worship of God on the day of the resurrection.

132

Trends in Theological Education at St Francis Theological College, Brisbane 1975–2010: A Participant- Observer Report.

Gregory C. Jenks St Francis Theological College, Brisbane1

In 1975 Greg Jenks commenced as a student at St Francis Theological College in Brisbane. He is now the Academic Dean of the College. In the thirty-five years that have passed since 1975, Greg Jenks has observed and participated in the changing academic arrangements as the college has adapted to trends in the wider higher education environment. As a student, Greg participated in the transition from programs offered through the Australian College of Theology to the programs offered by the Department of Studies in Religion at the University of Queensland. He was the first person to graduate with the Bachelor of Arts with Honours in Studies in Religion. Subsequently, he was a member of the design committee for Field A (Old Testament) as plans for the creation of the Brisbane College of Theology took shape. Before taking up an appointment at St Barnabas‟ Theological College in Adelaide, and again after returning from Adelaide to take up a full-time position on the faculty at St Francis, Greg taught within the BCT programs. In the early 1990s, BCT became the School of Theology at Griffith University. After leaving St Francis College in mid-1992, Greg worked within Academic Administration at the University, including serving for a time as secretary to the School of Theology committee. Since returning to the College in 2007, Greg has renewed his close relationship with the Brisbane College of Theology, as Associate Dean. During the past eighteen months he has been deeply involved in the process to affiliate with the School of Theology at Charles Sturt University from the beginning of 2010. This paper draws on his insights as a student, a sessional lecturer, a member of faculty and as academic dean to offer a participant-observer report on the recent history of the college.

The Brisbane Theological College was established in 1897 by the then Diocesan Administrator, Archdeacon Arthur David.2 Bishop Webber had previously urged the Diocese to address the problem of recruiting and training local clergy, so the Archdeacon was not acting entirely on his own initiative. At first the College operated from Archdeacon David‘s residence

1 For various reasons I have been a participant and/or an observer of the theological education offered at St Francis Theological College, Brisbane since 1975. My roles have included being a student of the college (1975–1977), a sessional tutor and lecturer (1978– 85) and a member of faculty (1990–1992 & again since 2007). I am currently Academic Dean, a role which involves me in the academic administration of the college. For the period 1987–1989 I was a faculty member at St Barnabas Theological College, Adelaide; a college (re)founded in the 1960s on the model of St Francis College. For several years (1988–1997) I was Secretary of the Australia and New Zealand Society of Theological Studies, and I also served as secretary to the School of Theology Board of Griffith University in 1994-1995. This paper draws upon existing historical sources, but also creates a new historical source with the recollections and observations of an informed participant- observer. 2 See K. Rayner, The History of the Church of England in Queensland, Ph.D. dissertation, University of Queensland, 1962, 218–220, for a brief description of this priest of ‗great ability … pre-eminent in his influence, devotedness and capabilities.‘ 133 at 71 Wickham Terrace, directly opposite the Rectory of All Saints' Church, into which building the College would later move before relocating to a larger site at Nundah. Classes began and students were prepared for the examinations administered by the Australian College of Theology, which had been formed in 1891. During this time the college came to be known as the 'Nundah Theological College', but that was not deemed a suitable name by Archbishop Donaldson. The Archbishop chose to name the college in honour of St Francis of Assisi—perhaps partly due to the local parish church also bearing dedication to St Francis. At the insistence of Archbishop William Wand, the college was relocated to the grounds of Bishopsbourne at Milton in 1938. This move was driven by the financial problems besetting the college and the wider church, but also by the new Archbishop‘s desire to strengthen the quality of theological education. The relocation removed the accumulated debt, reduced operating costs and established the college on a basis that would see it experience major growth in the post-war period. The dominant figure through most of this period and down into the period under closer review in this paper was the Revd Canon Ivor F. Church (affectionately known as Prinnie to generations of ordinands), who served as Principal from September 1951 until his retirement in 1981. At its peak in 1959, the college had 55 ordination candidates as students.3 Tides of Change (1975–1983) The waters that lapped the grounds of the Milton campus in the major flood of 1974 were perhaps symbolic of other changes sweeping through the church and the wider society, and which would necessarily have their impact on the life of the college. As a commencing student in 1975 I entered a college which was a shadow of its former self, with a confused academic program and inadequate staffing. The most significant change to be noticed was undoubtedly the presence of married students. The tradition of unmarried single men, who followed their time in college with a period of service in the Bush Brotherhood before seeking the Archbishop‘s permission to marry, had all but vanished. In that year the college had around 18 students and a majority of them were married. Worship was at the centre of life. On weekdays we began with Morning Prayer (followed by silent meditation) and Eucharist. At midday we gathered in the chapel for Sext. Evening Prayer was said around 5.00pm and Compline at 10.00pm. Greater Silence was to be observed between Compline and Morning Prayer the next day. All weekday meals were taken together in the dining room. Families were allowed to join us for the Friday evening meal. By my third year in 1977 much had changed, with students being allowed to eat evening meals with their families on all but one night, but the Chapel commitments remained the same. The academic program was an amalgam of old patterns and emerging possibilities. The college prepared students for the Licentiate in Theology examinations conducted by the Australian College of Theology, but few students had the necessary skills in NT Greek to achieve the Th.L.

3 Bill Stegemann, Striving Together for the Faith of the Gospel. A History of St Francis‟ Theological College 1897 – 1997, Brisbane: St Francis Theological College, 1997, p.37. 134 award. Most graduated with the Th.Dip., and many were ordained with incomplete academic qualifications. There was a growing trend for eligible students to enrol for the Bachelor of Divinity program offered at the University of Queensland (UQ). Faculty from several theological colleges around the city taught together under the auspices of the Board of Studies in Divinity, offering students from different Christian traditions a program that was ecumenical in character as well as anchored in the world of university scholarship. The University of Queensland had commissioned a review of its Divinity program and 1975 saw the creation of the Department of Studies in Religion. The old Bachelor of Divinity program was replaced by a Bachelor of Arts (Studies in Religion). At the time, this B.A. offered majors in Old Testament, New Testament, Theology and Church History. It also offered an Honours program and the opportunity to proceed to higher degrees, including Master of Arts and Doctor of Philosophy.4 Brisbane College of Theology (1984–2009) The creation of the Department of Studies in Religion was itself a significant ecumenical achievement and something of a milestone in theological study within the university sector. Its initial teaching staff continued to be drawn from the faculty of the local theological colleges, but gradually the university appointed full-time staff and there was less opportunity for theological faculty to contribute. This had been a university initiative, with the ecumenical dimensions being a positive but unintended consequence. However, there had been parallel developments within the local chapter of the Australian and New Zealand Association of Theological Schools (ANZATS) for an ecumenical theological institute able to offer programs in theology and confer its own degrees. Tom Boland, reflecting on the developments in a speech to the tenth graduation ceremony of the Brisbane College of Theology (BCT) in 1994 described the dynamics as follows: Churches felt uneasy about the B.A. as the basis for ministerial training. An extended period was granted for those already entered into the B.D. course to obtain that degree; but by 1984 there would be no expressly theological degree course in Queensland. By that time an alternative had to be found, and the BCT came in just under the wire. Two things became clear in the brief life of the St Lucia B.D.: Churches insisted on a professional training for ministry at tertiary level, and ecumenical cooperation following on Vatican II and the Uppsala World Council of Churches meeting made it possible.5 The history of the BCT requires its own study, but the creation of the BCT was to have a profound affect on the theological programs offered by the college. It may be helpful to consider the college‘s relationship with the BCT particularly.

4 Having transferred to the new BA when it became available in 1975, I was the first person to graduate with the B.A. (Hons) at the end of 1977 and then proceeded to the M.A. in 1978. Subsequently my Ph.D. was also completed with the Department of Studies in Religion at the University of Queensland, being conferred in 1989. 5 Tom Boland, ‗Theology in Queensland.‘ An address to the BCT Graduation and Commencement Service, 25 February 1994. Unpublished typescript. 135

Foundational Years The Brisbane College of Theology began its teaching with the 1984 academic year. However, prior to that point there had been many years of discussion as the idea took shape and the necessary plans were put into place. St Francis College played a constructive role in this process. While Canon Church had hosted meetings of the Brisbane Theology Seminar at Old Bishopsbourne for many years, it was his successor as Principal, the Revd Canon James Warner, who had the privilege of serving as midwife at the birth of the BCT. His years as Principal (1982–1988) were critical as they coincided with the preparation of the plans for the BCT, including its accreditation to offer the Bachelor of Theology degree, and the first five years of its operation.6 The decision to support the creation of the Brisbane College of Theology was also an indication of the church‘s unhappiness with the University of Queensland becoming the principal provider of theological studies. Unfortunately, the creation of the BCT had the implication, if not the intention, of undermining the Department of Studies in Religion and seriously weakened the larger project of developing a strong tradition of critical theological scholarship in Queensland. While it is understandable that the participating churches found the prospect of controlling their own institution with authority to confer degrees in Theology most compelling, the reality was that the churches had neither the capacity nor the willingness to provide the substantial investment required for university-level scholarship. As a result the member schools of the BCT, and particularly St Francis College, lacked the staff and the other resources to provide and sustain a first class theology program. The great strength of the BCT in its earliest days was its profoundly ecumenical character. None of the other ecumenical theological consortia being formed around that time had the degree of collaboration seen in the BCT. Nor did they offer students the same extensive ecumenical learning experience. There was an ecumenical camaraderie about the BCT which those who were involved at the time still describe with a mixture of nostalgia and satisfaction. For a while the creation of the BCT did not seem to impact the Department of Studies in Religion adversely. There was a natural symbiosis between the undergraduate program offered by the BCT and the postgraduate programs offered at the university. Indeed, many of the BCT faculty studied for their PhD with the Department, and there were close personal and professional bonds. However, over time the gulf between the two projects widened—to the detriment of both. The local theological colleges had provided the Department of Studies in Religion with a steady stream of students who tended to be a little older than the typical school-leavers commencing in the Faculty of Arts. These students also tended to be highly-motivated and often achieved very high grades. Students who would previously have studied at the university

6 During these years, I was the visiting lecturer in Old Testament while the college continued to teach the ACT syllabus, and I also served on the design committee for Field A – Old Testament of the Brisbane College of Theology. When BCT classes began in 1984 I lectured in the temporary spaces made available to the BCT at the Uniting Church in Ryans Road at St Lucia. 136 now tended to enrol for the Bachelor of Theology program offered by the BCT, including many members of religious orders in the Roman Catholic Church. This represented more than a loss of numbers. It also represented a loss of the mainstream Christian intellectual traditions from the Department of Studies in Religion, and this was exacerbated by the simultaneous loss of students from the more conservative evangelical traditions who had declined to enter the BCT but instead affiliated with the Australian College of Theology.7 To compensate for the loss of these students, the Department of Studies in Religion developed courses that were intended to appeal to the more diverse student population. Over time the emphasis on traditional theological studies diminished at the undergraduate level, with new programs being developed in Asian religions, Islamic studies and various contemporary expressions of spirituality. This move further alienated the churches and perhaps encouraged the BCT in developing its own suite of postgraduate courses. The shape of the new B.Th. offered by the Brisbane College of Theology was a very traditional divinity program. The curriculum was divided into five fields: Field A – Old Testament Field B – New Testament Field C – Theology Field D – Church History Field E – Ministry This structure lasted throughout the whole history of the BCT, with some slight modifications. The two Biblical Studies fields were later combined into a single field (A/B Bible), while Church History acquired a twin (Field H – Humanities) to accommodate classes in Philosophy. Field E expanded over time, and during the early 1990s students wanting a specialization in Youth Ministry had the option of taking a double major in Field E. While the content and the arrangement of the curriculum did not change greatly with the introduction of the BCT, SFC students and faculty found themselves in a very different context. Despite the three separate campus locations, great efforts were made to offer students a common program. The majority of classes were initially scheduled for Tuesdays and Thursdays, with Tuesday classes being held at Auchenflower or Milton, and all Thursday classes being held at Banyo. The Thursday program included an ecumenical worship service in the middle of the day, followed by a shared meal. Students were hosted in the Banyo refectory while staff retired to the faculty dining room. Those of us fortunate enough to have served in the BCT in those halcyon days recall those meals with great delight, and appreciate the formation of an intentional academic community which they facilitated. In time even the deep pockets of the Roman Catholic Church were unable to sustain this largesse and the common life of the BCT suffered as a result.

7 For a number of years the Baptist Theological College and Kenmore Christian College (operated by the Churches of Christ) collaborated to offer B.Min. and B.Th. courses from the ACT rather than become part of the BCT. The Bible College of Queensland also affiliated with the ACT. 137

Griffith University School of Theology By 1990 the BCT was exploring options for establishing a link with a local university, such as had happened with the Adelaide College of Divinity (Flinders University) and the Perth College of Divinity (Murdoch University). In the aftermath of the Dawkins reforms such an association was thought to be desirable for a number of reasons, including possible access to Commonwealth funding.As a faculty member at the time, I recall the extended discussions of the options before us. The two major choices were the University of Queensland and Griffith University (GU). A renewed affiliation with the University of Queensland seemed to offer some major advantages: for many of the people involved in the process, UQ was our academic home; whether we had studied there or not, BCT faculty members also enjoyed close personal and professional relationships with many of the staff in the Department of Studies in Religion; the university had a track record of involvement in religious studies; there was an impressive collection of resources in the UQ library, due in no small part to the efforts of Professor Michael Lattke in securing funding from German institutions to develop a substantial collection in NT studies; UQ also had established a reputation for the quality of its research higher degree programs and, in addition, two of the three member schools were located reasonably close to the UQ campus, while the Roman Catholic campus at Banyo was distant from both universities. On the other hand, while some UQ staff were keen to champion the case for a BCT/UQ agreement, the university itself was hardly an eager suitor. Developing new courses in Theology was not, it seems, a priority for the Vice-Chancellor at UQ. Rather, the strategic focus of UQ was—not unexpectedly—on the possibilities for developing their biomedical and other high technology activities with attendant potential for research funding and commercial exploitation. Griffith University (GU) found itself in a very different situation. GU did not have any history with teaching in Religion or Theology, but it also lacked a history of public investment in disciplines such as Medicine, the Sciences and Engineering. While other providers had emerged in the meantime, Griffith had originally been created as a second university for SE Queensland—but with UQ preserving a monopoly in certain high prestige disciplines. In addition, GU had been founded around a multi-disciplinary model. Its genius had been creative cross-disciplinary approaches to emerging social issues, including Asian Studies and Environmental Sciences. After a wave of mergers with nearby Colleges of Advanced Education following the Dawkins Report, Griffith was accustomed to absorbing smaller (sub-university) entities. GU found the prospect of an affiliation by the Brisbane College of Theology no more problematic than its recent acquisition of the Queensland College of Art or the Queensland Conservatorium of Music. Despite its lack of historical engagement in Religion, and while lacking many of the natural advantages offered by UQ, Griffith University succeeded in the uneven competition for a BCT/university affiliation. The formal agreement to establish the partnership was signed on Sunday, 13 October 1991. The GU agreement provided for a very limited affiliation of the BCT with the university. Unlike the arrangements in Adelaide and Perth, the BCT

138 retained the Bachelor of Theology program while the university controlled the research higher degrees (M.Phil. and Ph.D.). This arrangement had significant consequences for both parties and for the students. As a degree awarded by the BCT, the B.Th. did not have any Commonwealth-funded places. This meant that students were not eligible for government assistance with their tuition costs through the Higher Education Contribution Scheme (HECS).8 The BCT was required to maintain its separate accreditation with the Office of Higher Education for delivery of the B.Th. and other exclusively BCT awards, while the programs offered through the School of Theology were part of the university‘s self-accrediting processes. The burden of resourcing these rolling accreditation reviews fell entirely on the BCT. Under the initial terms of the affiliation agreement, the BCT received no direct financial benefit from the creation of the School of Theology. While staff and students gained access to some university services, and the BCT faculty gained a way to supervise research higher degree students, there was no shift of funding from the university to the BCT. With the benefit of hindsight, it is clear that the BCT and Griffith University were seeking very different outcomes from their affiliation agreement. The BCT was seeking a relationship with a larger ally to ward off the threats of forced amalgamations, but was not willing to surrender its autonomy. As a result the BCT secured an academic version of the ANZUS treaty, which fails to guarantee any particular outcome other than consultation and sympathy, but is widely thought to offer security against a hostile threat. The most significant gain for the BCT from the affiliation was access to PhD programs and, to a much lesser extent, the qualified prestige that flowed from an affiliation with a 'real' university. Griffith University, on the other hand, was primarily looking to diversify its brand and to establish its own reputation as a 'real' university offering the full array of traditional academic disciplines. The real prizes were Law, Medicine and Physiotherapy; but Theology was an attractive trophy to add to the collection. In fact, the University did quite well out of the arrangement in the early years as it benefited from a wave of high quality doctoral candidates who tended to complete their dissertations in a timely manner, and contributed significantly to the university‘s research outcomes. The effect of all this on the theological education offered at St Francis College as a member school of the BCT is hard to measure. The core undergraduate program was not really affected by the BCT/Griffith affiliation, although a few students were able to take advantage of the combined B.A./B.Th. offered by the School of Theology. Since most students were already graduates this was not an option that attracted many enrolments.

8 When the university did eventually offer the BCT 40 Commonwealth-funded places as part of a proposed revision of the agreement around 2005, this offer was declined. It is thought by some that the reason for declining the offer was to leave the BCT free to negotiate an affiliation agreement with the Australian Catholic University, or at least to leave the Catholic member of the BCT free to merge with ACU in due course. That merger took place on 1 January 2009. 139

The impact was mostly felt in the postgraduate area and especially students interested in pursuing research higher degrees. The Master of Theology offered a dissertation that served as the functional equivalent of a B.Th. Honours thesis. The supervision was typically exercised by BCT faculty and—at this stage—the marking of dissertations was mostly internal. The most substantial impact of the GU School of Theology was in the research higher degree program. Qualified students could enrol as doctoral candidates and were jointly supervised by faculty from the BCT and the university. This collegiality was appreciated by all parties, and a number of students were able to pursue their doctoral research within the school. With changes of personnel at both the BCT member schools and at the university the School of Theology began to flounder. The university indicated that it was looking for a more engaged model in the Theology program, with BCT staff more involved in multi-disciplinary research projects. For their part, it seems that the BCT faculty was reluctant to move away from its core focus on traditional theological disciplines, and had little desire to engage in multi-disciplinary research projects that lacked a clear theological character. The School of Theology was formally dis-established by the university at the end of 2006. Behind the Scenes: Rethinking theological education in the Diocese of Brisbane Before addressing the final years of the Brisbane College of Theology (2007–2009), it is helpful to consider what was happening behind the scenes as the diocese repeatedly reviewed St Francis College. Three major internal reviews of theological education and ministry formation in the Diocese of Brisbane resulted in several waves of major change in the college programs. Some indication of the energy invested in this process of review and re- visioning is provided by a simple listing of the major documents.9 It seems that each of the archbishops in office during this period has felt the need to review the mission, structure and programs of the college.10 The 1987 Review

9 Anglican Church of Australia, ‗Theological Education and the Mission of the Church. Statements of Agreement drawn up by the Heads of Anglican Theological Colleges for the Bishops of the Anglican Church of Australia.‘ 30 November 1994. See also: Anglican Church of Australia General Synod Commission of Ministry and Training, ‗Minimum Requirements for Ordination and Minimum Requirements for Effective Episcopal Ministry.‘ Draft document, undated. In addition, there was a series of reports prepared for the Diocese of Brisbane: ‗Archbishop‘s Working Group on Training for Ministry.‘ Unpublished papers, 1986–1987; ‗Report of the Committee to Review Theological Education and Ministerial Formation.‘ Diocesan Council paper, 21 May 1988; ‗Some Emerging Views from the Review Committee.‘ Committee to Review Theological Education and Ministry Formation in the Diocese of Brisbane, April 1997; ‗St Francis Theological College and the Brisbane College of Theology: A Report from St Francis‘ College Council on the Mutual Relationship. Part 1: Overview. Unpublished report by the Ministry Education Commission. August 2004; and ‗St Francis Theological College and the Brisbane College of Theology: A Report from St Francis‘ College Council on the Mutual Relationship. Part 2: Present and Future Directions. Unpublished report by the Ministry Education Commission. November 2004. There were also a number of ‗Green Papers‘ on issues under consideration released for discussion in the diocese and other papers written by members of these review committees. Some of these are listed in the bibliography. 10 (1987), (1997), and (2004). 140

At its November 1985 meeting, Diocesan Council recommended that the archbishop: [A]ppoint a committee to explore further the proposal to develop at St. Francis College training for lay persons, ordinands and clergy, such committee to take account of: (a) the needs of the community, development of spirituality and staff roles within the college (b) provision of library and resources in audio visual media (c) funding for the support of persons in training (d) provision of adequate financial resources from budgeted funds (e) areas of training currently provided through the Christian Education Department …11

The review held its first meeting in February 1987 and submitted a progress report to the qrchbishop in August that same year. A major feature of this review was a proposal that the functions of the Department of Christian Education be absorbed into the college, which would enlarge its mission to include lay education and provide educational resources for parishes. The need to provide formal training for youth ministers was also identified, as were the severe financial constraints impinging on the college. The 1989 Yearbook of the Diocese of Brisbane includes a brief report on the outcomes of this review (in the Diocesan Council report) as well as a more discursive description in the college‘s own report to Synod.12 While there were no major changes to the academic programs offered at the college, there were a number of other significant changes made. Bishop George Browning was appointed Principal (while remaining a Regional Bishop in the diocese), new staff were appointed, and the librarian‘s position placed on a more secure basis. The functions of the former Department of Christian Education were merged into the college, with a new lectureship in mission and education being created, and the college assumed direct responsibility for a number of other functions (including the postulants process, diaconal formation, lay education and post-ordination training). Approval was given to construct additional accommodation for students (Ivor Church Court) and staff, as well as a new building to serve as an administrative centre. The academic programs continued much as before, but the college was now making a more substantial contribution to the BCT. I joined the new team in 1990 as Lecturer in Biblical Studies, with additional responsibilities for the Archbishop‘s Certificate Program and the Diaconal Formation Program. That year the college had 42 students enrolled, including 20 candidates for stipendiary ministry, 12 candidates for 'local parish ministry' (many of them women candidates for the Diaconate), and 10 'student youth workers'. There were also other people enrolled for the BCT B.Th. program, but the 1990 Synod report makes no mention of

11 Extract from the minutes of the resumed meeting of the Diocesan Council on 24 November 1985. 12 Anglican Church of Australia Diocese of Brisbane, Yearbook, Brisbane, Diocese of Brisbane, 1989, pp. 98–99, 168–170. 141 these 'private students'. In addition there were to be hundreds of people enrolled for units of the Archbishop‘s Certificate Program which was widely adopted in dioceses around Queensland and in parts of New South Wales. The 1997 Review By the mid-1990s it seemed to many that the promise of the changes made just a few years earlier had not been fully realized. John Noble, by this time an Assistant Bishop in the diocese, was appointed to undertake an extensive review of all aspects of ministry development and theological education in the diocese. The terms of reference required the committee to coordinate its work with two other task groups established in 1996, one of which was examining the relationship between the BCT and universities. This review proposed a major overhaul of the ways that the diocese addressed ministry development and theological education.13 As an agency of the new Ministry Education Commission (MEC), St Francis College would continue to provide theological education through the BCT. The report also identified the need for the BCT to form relationships with universities that would 'deliver financial benefits to BCT member schools' and it called on the BCT to introduce distance education options 'for the full range of programs the diocese requires'.14 The theological programs offered by the college did not change greatly as a result of the extensive restructuring to form the MEC, but there were major changes in the communal character of the college. Under the new arrangements, the critical location for ministry development and theological education was to be the local community of the parish and deanery, rather than the special community of the theological college. The 2004 Review By 2004 the college was still coming to terms with the implications of the new MEC structures. In addition, further pressures were emerging as the conditions of re-accreditation for the BCT became more stringent. An internal review of the college‘s relationship with the BCT was prepared for the MEC. That report reaffirmed the value to the churches of this ecumenical project, but also acknowledged 'the educational opportunities provided by St Francis‘ College have been chronically underused by the people of this Diocese.'15 The report anticipated the imminent expansion of the Roscoe Library and the addition of a new lecture theatre at the college, but to date neither project has been implemented.

13 The complete report is published in the Yearbook, 1998, pp. 554–603. This lengthy report outlined the overarching theological model and proposed the establishment of a Ministry Education Commission. 14 Yearbook, 1998, p.565. 15 Anglican Church of Australia Diocese of Brisbane, ‗St Francis Theological College and the Brisbane College of Theology. A Report from St Francis‘ College Council on the Mutual Relationship. Part 1: Overview.‘, Report by the Ministry Education Commission. August 2004, 6. In making this observation, the author of the report (Professor John Mainstone) observed ‗St. Francis‘ College, despite being the longest established of all three BCT member schools, is the college least well-supported by its own church membership.‘ Professor Mainstone attributed this unfortunate situation to ‗the fact that this Anglican diocese has never come to grips with the question of what to do with a theologically educated laity.‘ 142

The report identified the need for an effective distance education program, but noted that the BCT did not have the resources to proceed with these developments. The 2005 Synod report reflected these same priorities when it observed that the college was looking to achieve flexible delivery modes for its courses, as well as a suite of postgraduate courses more suited to the needs of schools and other agencies in the diocese.16 These issues were to dominate the academic agenda throughout the remaining years of the college‘s affiliation with the BCT and also played a critical role in the eventual decision to affiliate with the School of Theology at Charles Sturt University (CSU). The Final Years At the beginning of 2007 the Brisbane College of Theology gained accreditation as a higher education provider, and a new phase in the offering of theological education at St Francis began. A new and stricter regime of accreditation and quality assurance prevailed and the funding environment was immensely improved. There was still no opportunity for the BCT to move into distance education, but the introduction of flexible arrangements for on-campus delivery of subjects (including intensives over 5 successive days—or several weekends) assisted students in undertaking studies without the requirement to attend weekly classes. While the funding context of the BCT had improved greatly, the financial constraints imposed on the MEC budget led to a reduction in the size of the faculty and greater reliance on sessional lecturers. In the meantime the disestablishment of the School of Theology at Griffith University meant that the BCT no longer had access to research higher degrees. The 2007 MEC report to synod noted questions posed by the archbishop about the viability of five theological colleges in the Australian church, and reported on a national conversation he had convened as Primate with representatives of the colleges that offered 'liberal-catholic Anglican theological education.'17 While this conversation did not result in any concrete action, it signalled a disquiet with the BCT as a sustainable model for theological education in the diocese and it raised the notion of a national alliance of liberal/catholic Anglican theological colleges. With the BCT‘s accreditation due for renewal at the end of 2009, preparations for another round of accreditation began in late 2007 with the goal of completing the required documents by mid-2008. In the meantime it had been announced that St Paul‘s Theological College, the successor to Pius XII Seminary and the Roman Catholic member school of the BCT, would be integrated into the School of Theology of Australian Catholic University (ACU) from 1 January 2009. Intense discussions took place about the future of the BCT, including options for a new relationship with a university to replace the former agreement with GU. One option was for some form of partnership between

16 Yearbook, 2005, p.65. 17 These institutions were St Barnabas College (Adelaide), St Francis College (Brisbane), St Mark‘s National Theological Centre (Canberra), Trinity College (Melbourne) and Perth College of Divinity. Neither Moore College (Sydney) nor Ridley College (Melbourne) were included. 143

ACU and BCT, but St Francis College undertook a wider review of its options—largely because of the archbishop‘s expressed preference for a national Anglican theological network. Throughout the first six months of 2008 there were parallel paths of academic development. Within the BCT, representatives of SFC were deeply engaged in the process of reviewing academic programs; especially in the area of postgraduate courses. It was clear, however, that offering studies by distance education was not on the agenda for that round of accreditation. Simultaneously, MEC staff (including SFC faculty) were engaged in a review of the college‘s future partnerships. The decision to enter an agreement with St Mark‘s National Theological Centre in Canberra was reached just before synod in 2008, and given approval-in-principle by the July meeting of Diocesan Council. The decision was announced to students and communicated to the BCT. One immediate effect was that the BCT Board decided not to proceed with the process of re-accreditation and, instead, to plan for the closure of the BCT on 31 December 2009.

CSU School of Theology The 2009 MEC report to synod commented on the significant changes that were about to take effect in the life of St Francis College as it moved from being a member of the BCT to becoming a part of the CSU School of Theology.18 What follows is based closely on that report to Synod that relied on material I had prepared: The decision to join CSU School of Theology was the result of a process of careful consideration of various options for the future of the College. Options that were considered included: remaining with the Brisbane College of Theology, developing a new ecumenical theological study centre affiliated with the Australian Catholic University, developing SFC as a house of formation (seminary) without formal academic programs, accreditation with the Australian College of Theology, accreditation with the Melbourne College of Divinity (through an affiliation agreement with Trinity College, Melbourne) and accreditation with Charles Sturt University School of Theology (through an affiliation with St Mark‘s, Canberra). The criteria that were developed to assist in evaluating these alternative futures included: Academic standards - accredited programs with options for multiple levels of award from Certificate/Diploma to Research Higher Degrees; Flexible learning options - including distance/online learning, transferability and recognition of prior learning; Responsive to needs of church - what kind of training for what kind of ministers in what kind of church in what kind of society?; Capacity to serve wider ministry education needs - lay, chaplaincies, schools, community service agencies; Capacity to include personal and ministry formation for candidates; Ecumenical engagement with diversity of current Australian Christianity—including Anglican, Roman Catholic, Evangelical and Pentecostal; Administrative

18 Yearbook, 2009, 80–81. 144 simplicity—low compliance costs, both financial and bureaucratic; Anglican identity and mission is strengthened; Sustainability and Exciting and challenging project - a future for the college that would attract and retain quality staff and students. The most painful aspect of the decision to affiliate with Charles Sturt University was the impact on the Brisbane College of Theology and relationships with the local ecumenical partners. However, on balance it seemed that the best interests of both the college and its ecumenical partners were not going to be served by maintaining the BCT in its present form. The academic programs offered by St Francis College are now those of the CSU School of Theology. Those programs include theology courses from University Certificate to Masters level; specialist postgraduate courses in areas such as Ageing and Pastoral Care, Religious and Values Education, and Pastoral Counselling. The need for research higher degree programs is met by the availability of Bachelor of Theology (Honours), Master of Theology (Honours), Doctor of Ministry, and Doctor of Philosophy. Every subject offered by CSU School of Theology is also available by distance education. This makes it possible for the college to meet the needs of clergy and church members in regional and remote areas, as well as offering greater flexibility for students in the metropolitan area. The Anglican presence in the CSU School of Theology has already increased with the announcement that St Barnabas Theological College in Adelaide will enter into a similar partnership with St Mark‘s National Theological Centre from the beginning of 2011. The Archbishop‘s hopes for a national Anglican theological network look like taking shape sooner than expected, although it is not yet clear how existing Anglican programs in Melbourne, Newcastle and Sydney will relate to this new entity. Here in Brisbane, considerable effort is now going into new ways for the churches that were formerly members of the BCT to work together in theological education and ministry formation. There is certainly scope for classes that include students enrolled for degrees at both ACU and CSU, but there may also be opportunities for collaboration in research training and the supervision of research higher degrees. There are also plans for an ecumenical ministry formation program: something never within the ambit of the Brisbane College of Theology.

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146

For God and Empire: Archbishop Donaldson's War

Alex Kidd University of Queensland

In December 1904, St Clair George Alfred Donaldson was appointed the fourth Bishop of Brisbane, and in the following year its first Archbishop and metropolitan of the Province of Queensland. Donaldson had a passionate belief in the greatness of the British Empire and in his 1911 Synod address drew attention to Australia's position within the British world family. In previous years Australia's attitude to its military responsibilities within the Empire had been somewhat detached, but now there had been a change of attitude that he attributed to „the rapid development of militarism and the consequent alteration in the balance of power', which had drawn attention to the whole question of imperial defence. With the onset of war, recruitment stepped up and this received the Archbishop's firm approval. At a 1915 meeting of luminaries, he proposed that it was necessary to take determined steps to encourage recruiting in Queensland and helped form The Queensland Recruiting Committee. Soon afterwards, a special service of farewell and blessing to soldiers was held in the Cathedral, followed a few days later with a precursor of the Anzac celebrations in 1916 through a solemn celebration of the Eucharist in commemoration 'of those who had laid down their lives for their friends.' Donaldson was disappointed with the Roman Catholic community who he believed was not pulling its weight in numbers it sent to the war front and he was disappointed in the Labour movement for much the same reason. His disappointment at the failure of both conscription campaigns was enormous. Throughout the war, Donaldson fought strenuously to improve the numbers of chaplains who were allocated to troopships, and to improve the spiritual conditions of the men, turning his attention later to the problems of post-war reconstruction, and the re-establishment of the diocese on a peace-time footing.

In August 1903 Thornhill Webber, D.D., third bishop of Brisbane died. Some seventeen months later, in December 1904, St Clair George Alfred Donaldson was enthroned as the fourth bishop of the Diocese of Brisbane. In the following year he became its first Archbishop, and Metropolitan of the newly-formed Province of Queensland.1 The purpose of this paper is to ascertain how and why the first Anglican Archbishop of Brisbane responded in a positive way to the Great War.

Imperial Patriotism Donaldson was born into a social class and family in which service to the Empire, in one form or another, was taken for granted. He grew up with a passionate belief in the greatness of the British Empire. He never doubted that the British Empire was God's instrument to lead the world, and that the

1 Donaldson was born in London on 11 Feb. 1863, third son of Sir Stuart and Lady Donaldson. He was educated at Eton College, and at Trinity College, Cambridge. Ordained at St Paul‘s Cathedral on 27 May 1888, appointed curate at Bethnal Green, and later became chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury. In 1891 he was appointed to Church Eton Mission and in 1903 became Rector of Hornsey. On 28 October he was consecrated in St Paul‘s Cathedral, London at 41 years of age. 147

Church of England was the means through which God worked. This cosmology and his religious training were the strands which gave him his philosophy of Empire, although at a later date his ideas of the structure of the Empire were to change slightly. His first few years in Brisbane gave Donaldson some insight into the rising feeling of nationalism in Australia, a move of which he generally approved, so long as it did not lead to breaking away from the Empire. He was concerned with the welfare of the common man, but overriding this was the welfare of the Empire. It was shortly before the coronation of King George V that Donaldson addressed the 1911 synod, and the shadow of coming events perhaps influenced him to focus on Australia's position within the British imperial family. As the world moved closer to war, his awareness of the Empire's importance to the world increased. A strong empire demanded strong dominions: 'The British sovereign stands for Empire, and we are coming more and more to see that for Australia the word Empire stands for safety.' 2 A short time previously, there had been 'strenuous opposition' within Australia to Sir Samuel Griffith's proposal to pay £200,000 per year as a subsidy to the Royal Navy. Nevertheless, in 1911 Australia committed itself to a capital outlay of £4,000,000 with an additional annual expenditure of £500,000 for upkeep. The reason for Australia's change of attitude was due 'to the rapid development of militarism and the subsequent alteration in the balance of power' within Europe, which had drawn attention to the whole question of imperial defence.3 Donaldson was overseas when war was declared. Despite the 'jingoistic enthusiasm' of the country before the outbreak of war, Donaldson was somewhat disappointed on his return to find Australia taking the war less seriously than he had expected.4 In some ways he saw himself as staunchly Australian, championing the cause of independence and self- determination, but the war provided him with the opportunity to put forward his ideas of Empire. There could be no question about Australia's allegiance to the 'Old Country.'5 He saw the war as a holy one, and his opinion was affirmed by Archbishop Wright, the Primate, at General Synod in 1916: 'Our country fights in this war for the ideals symbolised by the Cross...it is a Holy War.' For Donaldson it was more than a holy war - it was also a war for saving the Empire. The thought of the Empire's 'divine vocation' 6 gave confidence to the British people, but it also laid upon the people 'with peremptory emphasis a two-fold obligation.'7 Under certain circumstances it became 'a sacred duty to fight for the right to fulfil one's destiny',8 and anyone who sought to take away God's commission was 'a coward and a rebel'9 if he did not rise up and fight. The other obligation was national repentance 'which

2 Donaldson‘s address to Diocesan Synod, 1911, Synod Papers, Anglican Diocesan (Brisbane) Archives , hereafter AA. 3 Address to Synod, 1911 4 Bush Notes, 2 November 1914, p.161, AA. 5 Donaldson to Bp. of Armidale, 30 October 1914, AA. 6 Brisbane Courier, 20 November 1914 7 Brisbane Courier, 20 November 1914 8 Brisbane Courier, 20 November 1914 9 Brisbane Courier, 20 November 1914 148 must be based on a view of our imperial history, in the light of the imperial vocation of which we are conscious'. 10 To Donaldson's mind, the war meant fighting to save the Empire, from the effort of which would come not only the satisfaction of leading the world in Christian observance, but also the strengthening of character through sacrifice and repentance to enable it to do so. When war came, Australian clergy of most Protestant persuasions, with the exception of Roman Catholics, saw the war not so much as a means of testing and developing imperial strength, but as a testing time for the country which would detach it from materialistic and hedonistic values, and thus would have 'a regenerating effect on society.'11 Like Donaldson, they believed God was on their side, and that God would not let evil triumph. With some exceptions, at first the Australian Roman Catholic bishops also generally spoke in support of the war and encouraged enlistment, although they did not see the war as a regenerative and imperial enterprise as did Donaldson. Being mainly of Irish extraction, if not of Irish birth, and being almost universally educated in Ireland or Rome, the bishops' loyalty was not to the Empire. Their loyalty lay with Australia, and they used their speeches on the war to try to bring home their feelings as 'a disadvantaged minority' 12 particularly where education was concerned. The Roman Catholic bishops saw the war in political terms, while the Anglican bishops and the nonconformist clergy saw the struggle in theological and imperial terms.13 Preaching at a service at St John's Cathedral on 14 October 1914, shortly after his return from England, Donaldson said that the war had taught Christian people to fall back on their faith in God, and had awakened a spirit of sacrifice. The sacrifice which patriotism alone demanded was not enough, and had to be salted with penitence.14 The theme of penitence and sacrifice became almost a statement of faith about the source of national redemption.'15 Donaldson took a decidedly activist approach to the war effort. During Lent in 1915 Donaldson gave a series of addresses in the Cathedral, the theme of which was Christian Patriotism. In these addresses, he explained that the first duty of Christians was to follow the will of God. The next duty was to one's country: 'Our country has a right to everything we have, our money, energies, well-being, health, and even our life itself.' 16 These sentiments were later to find expression in his views on conscription. Since 1911, all Australian males between the ages of 12 and 25 had been liable to some form of military training. Although the introduction of compulsory training did not receive wide-spread community approval, the

10 Brisbane Courier, 20 November 1914 11 Michael McKernan, Australian churches at war : attitudes and activities of the major churches, 1914-1918, Sydney, Catholic Theological Faculty, 1980, p. 1 12 John P. McGuire, Prologue - A History of the Catholic Church as seen from Townsville 1863-1983, Toowoomba, A Church Archives Publication, 1990, p. 58. 13 McGuire, Prologue, p. 58 14 Bush Notes, 21 Nov 1914, pp. 15-17, AA. 15 Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, Brisbane, Watson, Ferguson & Co., 1916, p.20. 16 Brisbane Courier, 12 Mar 1915. 149

Archbishop was firmly in favour of it and urged his synod to support it.17 In 1914, the system of training was intended to create a military force of 'citizen soldiers' for home defence, and was mostly composed by compulsory trainees. The naval force, however, consisted entirely of volunteer seamen. 18 Donaldson found the pace of voluntary recruitment much too slow. His expectations of a much greater response to recruitment came from his strong belief in the Empire, and he expected others would share his sentiments. Donaldson's views on the slowness of recruitment were shared by the Rev'd G. E. Rowe, President of the Central Methodist Mission in Brisbane. Rowe ventilated his frustration to Donaldson:

If our own Parliament were more anxious to assist in getting men to the front instead of getting their votes for party purposes it would be more patriotic. I feel distressed at the attitude of our Parliament in the service votes. 'Nero fiddling' wasn't surely worse than this.19

Donaldson agreed, and put much of the blame on the pay the Australian soldiers received, which at 6/- per day was nearly four times as much as that of the British soldier. Donaldson felt that the Australian government had no wish to encourage recruiting because of the cost that would be incurred by having to pay a larger army. Unless the rates of pay could be lowered voluntarily, Donaldson wrote, 'we must bear the odium of standing by while the Mother Country gives practically the whole of her manhood in the Empire's defence.' 20 He wrote to the Governor General, Sir Ronald Munro Ferguson, who seemed content to suggest that enlistment would take its natural course without any campaign to strengthen it. In any case, 'we can't call for a levee en masse, for we could not deal with it if it came' he told Donaldson.21 The Archbishop also received, via the Lieutenant Governor, the Hon. Sir Arthur Morgan, a copy of a statement made by Colonel Legge of the Defence Department that indicated that lack of equipment and instructors were impeding the recruitment drive. In fact, the Army could not cope with an influx of troops.22 Donaldson replied to Munro Ferguson and Morgan in much the same terms. He did not regard Legge's statement as 'satisfactory', and suggested that if any young man wished to fight for his country, he should be given the chance to enlist for active service without any payment, until such times as he was required. Such a scheme would give young men an opportunity of showing their patriotism, and so avoid 'the growing resentment at the rebuffs' being received when applying to enlist. It would demonstrate Australia's patriotism throughout the Empire, as well as among her enemies. It would also be satisfactory to the young men, and would not embarrass the government.23 Another suggestion from the Archbishop urged

17 Frank Crowley, ed., A New History of Australia, Melbourne, William Heinemann, 1974, p. 295 18 Crowley, A New History, p. 296. 19 Rowe to Donaldson, 26 Nov 1914, AA. 20 Donaldson to Rowe, ud, AA. 21 Munro Ferguson to Donaldson, 11 Dec 1914, AA 22 Morgan to Donaldson, 18 Dec 1914, AA. 23 Donaldson to Munro Ferguson, and to Morgan, 21 Dec 1914, AA. 150

Morgan to write to the Governor General in an attempt to convince the Defence Department to become innovative. One proposal was that the Defence Department 'should offer the War Office in England to recruit in Australia for English regiments, by sending the men home by drafts on ordinary mail boats but not necessarily on troopers.' 24 Behind Donaldson's anxiety for a demonstration of maximum enlistment was his belief that 'the main indication of national spirit is the eagerness of the nation's manhood to get to the firing line.'25 With the onset of war, recruitment was stepped up and this received the Archbishop's firm approval. In May 1915 when the Mayor of Brisbane called a meeting at which Donaldson, Catholic Archbishop Duhig, and several other luminaries were present, Donaldson proposed that it was necessary to take determined steps to encourage recruiting in Queensland. The meeting resolved itself into a committee known as The Queensland Recruiting Committee, and formed an executive committee. The committee threw itself into the enterprise, and between 5 and 13 November 1915 held thirty-nine recruitment meetings in the city and suburbs of Brisbane.26 Donaldson took part in such meetings when time permitted and was a reserve speaker. Duhig was out of Brisbane at the time, but he addressed rallies in Dalby, Toowoomba, Roma, Mitchell, and other places.27 In his recruiting efforts, Duhig had the support of his fellow Archbishop, Dunne.28 In 1915, to ease his mind concerning unspecified criticism which he understood had been levelled at undergraduates for not enlisting, Donaldson wrote to Canon Hart in Melbourne to ascertain current opinion in that city. His own opinion was that Australian undergraduates were younger than their English counterparts and less well off, and thus less able to defer their studies. At St Francis' and St John's Theological Colleges, the policy was not to urge the men to enlist, but to let them take the initiative, 'placing no obstacle in their way.'29 The Archbishop let it be known, however, that he would not accept any candidates for Holy Orders during the war except those who for one reason or another were ineligible for enlistment.30 Donaldson had no qualms about the clergy enlisting. 'Only those entering the firing line', he said, did not wage the war. Ultimate victory came not from the bravery of the troops in action, 'but by the spirit of the nation behind them.' 31 He was opposed to the clergy bearing arms, and at the same time, he was trying to avoid a wholesale flocking to the colours by the younger men to serve as chaplains. He required a firm hand when dealing with the reluctant, distant members of the Bush Brotherhood, practically all of whom had sent him 'an ultimatum and are descending upon

24 Donaldson to E. Jowett, 18 Feb 1915, AA. 25 Year Book of the Diocese of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, Brisbane, Watson, Ferguson & Co., 1915, p.16 26 Wilde Ball to Chas Campbell, 3 Nov 1915, Queensland Recruiting Committee papers, John Oxley Library, Brisbane. 27 Duhig to Ball, 4 Nov 1915, Queensland Recruiting Committee Papers, John Oxley Library. 28 Neil J. Byrne, Robert Dunne 1830 - 1917, Archbishop of Brisbane, St Lucia, University of Queensland Press, 1991 29 Donaldson to Hart, 5 May 1915, AA 30 Church Chronicles, 1 Jun 1915, p.16. 31 Yearbook, 1915, p. 16. 151 me next week.' He understood how hard it was for them 'but so long as troopship chaplains are wanted it is pure wilfulness and rebellion for men to insist on going in the ranks.' 32 They were by their calling not required to take up arms, but at least one chaplain had no trouble with his conscience. He: [l]eft camp in motor and on way, drew a revolver and ammunition from ordnance stores. Against the Germans I would not carry arms but against the Turks it is advisable in case I get in a tight corner (that is, if I can't run fast enough).33

Donaldson's initial frustration with the government's slow recruiting campaign was overcome in September 1915 when it was announced that Australia had decided to offer the British government a new army of 50,000, together with a supply of reinforcements for both the forces already formed, and for the new army of which Queensland's proportion would be at the rate of 2,000 per month.34 The government intended to compel every man of military age either to enlist or state his reasons for not doing so. Replies were to be sent to the nearest local recruiting body. Committees were set up in towns and shires, and the various town or shire clerks were to act as local secretaries and supervisors for the committees being set up. The Queensland Recruiting Committee thought the appeal and the suggestions were unsatisfactory for Queensland owing to the great distances of many of the local authorities, the intervals between meetings, and also to the fact that the town and shire clerks were approaching their busiest time 'winding up their year's financial work, compiling their rate books and voter rolls, and preparing for the annual elections early in the New Year.35 The Committee suggested to the government statistician that the replies be sent to the Committee to be dealt with in Brisbane. The Committee also requested a complete list of the names and addresses of Queenslanders from whom replies were required. When neither of these suggestions was accepted, the Recruiting Committee contacted all the local authorities, offering their services as a clearinghouse for the expected replies. Before these plans could be implemented the Federal Government set up a Federal War Council. A State War Council was also created. These two bodies were then responsible for recruitment to which end the members of the Executive Council of the Queensland Recruiting Committee were appointed as a sub- 36 committee to oversee recruiting within the State.

Conscription By mid-1916, it was obvious that enlistments were not keeping pace with requirements, and conscription was being considered. Donaldson did not specifically mention the recruiting campaign in his address to the June 1916 synod, but with only one 'no' vote, synod passed a motion in favour of compulsory service, a fact subsequently used by the leader writer in the Brisbane Courier as evidence that the country was in favour of what the

32 Donaldson to Bp. of North Queensland, 13 Nov 1916, AA. 33 Michael McKernan, Padre-Australian Chaplains in Gallipoli and France, Sydney, Allen & Unwin, 1986, p. 27 34 Queensland Recruiting Committee Executive Report, 9 Mar 1916, John Oxley. 35 Queensland Recruiting Committee Executive Report, 9 Mar 1916, John Oxley. 36 Queensland Recruiting Committee Executive Report, 9 Mar 1916, John Oxley. 152 synod termed 'the nationalisation of the manhood of Australia: conscription by another name.' 37 For his part, Donaldson thought that those who considered conscription unnecessary were 'selfish and contemptible', and that responsible opinion in Queensland would speedily come to see the necessity of 'loyalty to the Commonwealth government in the enforcement - unpleasant though it may be to us all - of a temporary measure of conscription.' 38 Donaldson sent a copy of the synod resolution to W. M. Hughes, the Prime Minister, assuring him that it represented the 'solid opinion' of the vast majority of church people in 'all classes of society.' Donaldson's letter continued:

I venture to add that, like thousands of others, I have followed your utterances in England with the greatest interest, and now look forward to your leadership of the Commonwealth with very great hope. I believe that in following a great constructive national policy you will rally around you a vast consensus of moderate opinion on both sides of the line which divides Australia politically. 39

The Church Chronicle reflected Donaldson's views: 'In truth the referendum issue is a moral rather than a military one. The real stake is the soul of Australia... It carries with it the whole moral future of our country.' 40 The views of General Synod on conscription, when it met in October 1916, coincided with Donaldson's. The motion calling for a 'yes' vote was passed without abstention, accompanied by the singing of the National Anthem.41 The issue of conscription 'split both the Labor party and the nation',42 and the first conscription campaign was seen to be 'a political watershed.' 43 Outside the synod, what was expected to be a straight forward debate on the pros and cons of conscription soon developed first into an ethnic sectarian dispute, and then into a religious sectarian one. The State Labor government that included a number of Irish Catholic members did not echo the Archbishop's views. The anti-conscription campaign was opened in Brisbane at a meeting on 28 September. The President of the A.W.U., W. J. Reardon, presided. Principal speakers were T. J. Ryan, Premier and E. G. Theodore, State Treasurer.44 So strong were the anti-conscription feelings of the government, that John Anderson, Minister for Railways, was forced out of Cabinet because his pro-conscription views were at odds with those of his colleagues.45 Catholic Archbishop Mannix of Melbourne considered that 'Australia has done its full share and more' and believed that 'an honourable peace 'could be secured without conscription in Australia,' did not embrace

37 Church Chronicles, 2 Oct 1916. 38 Donaldson to Airey, ud, AA. 39 Donaldson to Wm Hughes, 12 August 1916, AA 40 Church Chronicles, 2 October 1916. 41 McKernan, Churches at War, p. 116. 42 Gordon Greenwood, ed., Australia: Social and Political History, Sydney, Angus & Robertson, 1955, p. 271. 43 Greenwood, ed., Australia: Social and Political History, p. 271 44 Brisbane Courier, 29 September 1916. 45 Anderson was a Primitive Methodist preacher and then became an ordained Presbyterian minister shortly before his election to parliament. 153

Donaldson's enthusiasm for conscription. 46 Archbishop Cerretti, the Apostolic Delegate, thought that the Church had no right to direct its people how to vote on the subject: 'The members of the Catholic Church are free citizens, and as such should record their votes in accordance with the dictates of conscience.' 47 Duhig, at first was a great supporter of recruiting campaigns, and originally a pro-conscriptionist, but later some of his ideas were qualified, which lead to his views being identified in the minds of some with those of Mannix. Eventually Duhig 'virtually withdrew from the debate leaving it to the extremists amongst the Irish nationalists.' 48 The State government was so strongly against conscription, and the Roman Catholic Church had declared a policy of neutrality, (but every prelate of those who spoke publicly, spoke against it), the Church of England and the nonconformist churches became the main forces in moulding opinion in favour of conscription.49 The defeat of the conscription referendum on 28 October 1916 was a bitter pill for individual members of the Church of England to swallow, not the least of whom was Donaldson, who was stunned by what he regarded as 'a great calamity.' 50 The result of the 'no' vote, according to Donaldson, who had actually taken no active role in the campaign, was 'sectarian bitterness against Rome.'51 His great object was to keep the Church out of the sectarian campaign. The Church should fight Rome hard on strict doctrinal questions, but it was the business of the citizens to fight her 'on the question of, loyalty and good citizenship.'52 Donaldson was a patriot, not a sectarian. The lead that the country now wanted was from the spiritual side, according to Donaldson, who wrote to the Primate, Archbishop Wright, in an effort to push him into national action. Donaldson thought that a manifesto signed by all the religious heads 'might pull together, at the call of patriotism in the highest sense, all our scattered and divided forces.'53 His disappointment with the country's response to the referendum was plain, and despite his intense efforts to bring the Church's influence to bear on public opinion, and to quell the sectarian debate that erupted, he was unable to achieve his purpose. A few days later, he returned to the recruiting campaign. In another letter he wrote to the Primate:

It seems to me that the conflict over the referendum has left a certain paralysis in the Commonwealth, and the disjecta membra of our body politic lie scattered without cohesion, and so incapable of action. The politicians cannot help us. Individuals cannot help us. But I do think that possibly the religious world might do something now. I have set down in

46 Advocate, 23 September 1916 47 Cerritti to Duhig 2 Oct 1916, in Advocate, 14 October 1916. 48 George P. Shaw, ‗Conscription and Queensland‘, 1916-1917, B.A. Hons thesis, University of Queensland, 1966, p. 128 49 Garland to Maitland Woods, 29 No 1916, Garland papers, John Oxley Library. 50 Donaldson to Wright, 1 Dec 1916, AA. 51 Donaldson to G. E. Rowe, 13 Nov 1916, AA. 52 Garland to Maitland Woods, 3 Oct 1916, Garland Papers, John Oxley Library. 53 Donaldson to Wright, 6 Dec 1916, AA. 154

the accompanying memorandum the precise message which I want to give the nation at this moment...54

What he wanted to make clear, without giving offence, was that national unity was impossible 'were the Irish to continue to scheme to jump the country for their own race.'55 Although Donaldson gave no expression of his general attitude to the Irish, whatever it might have been, it developed into antipathy because of what he saw as their lack of patriotism to the country and to the Empire. The appeal was to be on ethnic rather than sectarian lines, and Donaldson foresaw 'a battle about this in Queensland.' The Protestants were 'all rampant', he said, and were looking to him for a lead in an anti-Roman Catholic crusade. 56 Protestant feelings were still inflamed as reminders of the Roman Catholic opposition to conscription continued to circulate in pamphlets. None was more infuriating than Australians Awake in which Father O'Keefe, a Roman Catholic priest, was reported as saying in Bowen on 15 October 1916:

I hope that the hands will wither of all those who vote for Conscription; that God will turn all those from voting for Conscription. If Conscription is granted there will be Civil War in Australia, and I will fight with the rebels to the last drop of my blood.

Protestant Australians perceived Irish Catholics here, as in Ireland, to be shirking their responsibilities in the war effort. Donaldson questioned the statistics of the number of Roman Catholics enlisting in the armed services, and had asked his personal friend R. C. Ramsay for his opinion. To Donaldson's discomfort Ramsay, who also was a member of the Recruiting Committee, did not agree with his assessment. The figures that Donaldson had received, according to Ramsay, were incomplete and were generalizations. Donaldson could not understand who was holding back the full figures - the army or the politicians - but if they were released and the Roman Catholics were in the clear, he for one would 'rejoice to vindicate the RC's the moment the facts became clear'.57

Sectariansim Sectarian issues erupted into full-scale discord following 1916, which was at the very least unhelpful to the recruiting campaign. In Queensland, anti-Irish and therefore anti-Roman Catholic feeling spilled over into politics. The two issues became entwined, but the flashpoint that ignited the blaze were sermons preached at St Mary's, Kangaroo Point by the Rev'd H. Gradwell, the rector, on 31 December 1916, and at the Cathedral by Coadjutor Harry Le Fanu on 'political righteousness' on 7 January 1917, the Special Day of Prayer for National Unity. The gist of Gradwell's sermon was that a forthcoming State election was to be fought on sectarian lines. If this were the case, a close inspection of 'the religious faith of all those who had entered the government service in the last five or seven years would be

54 Donaldson to Wright, 6 Dec 1916, AA. (The manifesto proposal was not accepted). 55 Donaldson to Wright, 6 Dec 1916, AA. 56 Donaldson to Wright, 6 Dec 1916, AA. 57 Donaldson to Ramsay, 2 March 1917, AA 155 interesting, and show that the Labor government had given preferential treatment to Roman Catholics.'58 Le Fanu drew attention to what he considered was the drift of State politics into the American method of the appointment permanent officers according to their political views. He instanced the appointment of a cabinet minister to replace Adamson, who had been forced to retire because of his political views, where Coyne, another Labor member, was the obvious choice, but where the appointment was prevented by 'a block vote of Roman Catholics in the party for a Roman Catholic candidate.'59 Le Fanu's remarks brought a swift response from Archbishop Duhig. After remaining aloof from the argument between Duhig and Le Fanu, Donaldson added fresh fuel to the fire in his address to Provincial Synod of 1917. Again Duhig fanned the flames, and at the same time introduced fresh material to the controversy:

Archbishop Donaldson softens his allegations by admitting that Catholics are not the only, albeit the chief, offenders to these matters. One hopes that in saying so he had in his mind the subtle attempt made last year to pack the University Senate - an attempt that fortunately got a timely exposure in the daily press, and that probably led the Labour government to do all round justice in making its nomination to that august body. 60

Donaldson did not pick up the gauntlet. 'After considerable agitation of mind' he had decided not to reply. 61 Le Fanu had collected 'some excellent ammunition' but it was not certain that it would be 'a knockout blow' that was what was needed. Meanwhile, but in vain, the Chief Censor pleaded for peace in the interests of recruiting.62 Donaldson had tried in his own mind to separate from religion the two issues as he saw them: Australian Irish Roman Catholic disloyalty to the country, and the perceived push by Roman Catholics for political power. Meanwhile the Archbishop's mind was returning to conscription. The Queensland Recruiting Committee had 'battled with great loyalty and great tenacity for the voluntary system' but the voluntary system had 'become a farce' in his opinion. 63 By 1917 the jingoistic enthusiasm evident before the start of the war had completely faded. The 1916 referendum had failed and recruiting continued to decline. The Mackinnon scheme of compulsory home service had not produced further recruits for overseas service. Of the 15,500 men in the twenty-one to thirty-five age group eligible for home duty in the 1916 call up, half had obtained exemption, and the other half 'had emerged from the compulsory service more case-hardened than ever.' 64 Despite the result of the 1916 referendum, by mid-1917 Donaldson was feeling more optimistic. The situation should be reviewed, and while he

58 Brisbane Courier, 1 January 1917 59 Daily Mail, 8 January 1917 60 Brisbane Courier, 1 March 1917, p. 43. 61 Donaldson to Bp of North Queensland, 15 February 1917, AA. 62 Donaldson to Bp of North Queensland, 15 February 1917, AA 63 Donaldson to Capt. Dash, Dept. of Defence, 28 July, 1917, AA. 64 L. L. Robson, The First A.I.F.: A Study of Its Recruitment, 1914-1918, Melbourne, Melbourne University Press, 1970, p.135. 156 understood that the government could not itself reverse its policy after the pledges it had given, it could dissolve Parliament and appeal to the people. This he thought was the only democratic way. 65 Donaldson's wish was granted. He saw the government 'staking Australia's future on a single throw.' With the defeat of the second referendum, however, his shame knew no bounds at this 'most deplorable humiliation of Australia.'66 The discontent among unions during the war years, aided and abetted by the socialists, 67 and the strikes for increased pay and shorter working hours received no sympathy from the Archbishop.

Chaplaincy Frustration was an enemy Donaldson knew well. For years, he had been fighting it on many fronts, but the war produced new pockets of hindrance, one being with regard to the military chaplaincy service. The number of Anglican chaplains vis-à-vis the numbers from other denominations, the way they were appointed, the conditions they worked under, the problem of joint non - Catholic church parades, were problems that came under the Archbishop's notice. As Australia was, in Donaldson's view a Christian country, it was incumbent upon the government to provide spiritual welfare for its armed forces. It was in 1913, with the likelihood of war increasing daily, that the Defence Department set about the organization of military chaplaincy. A meeting was held at Victoria Barracks, Melbourne, on 31 March 1913 with the Church of England, Presbyterian, and Methodist Church leaders. A separate meeting was afforded the Roman Catholics. Lt. Col. H. G. Chauvel, Adjutant General, represented the Army. The outcome was that each of the churches represented was to have an equal number of chaplains, but there was no provision for the smaller denominations. When the decision was challenged by the smaller denominations, such as the Baptists and Salvation Army, provision was made for those organisations also to appoint chaplains. The meeting resolved that in addition to a Chaplain General for each of the major denomination a Senior Chaplain would be appointed in each state for each denomination, who would nominate other chaplains. In Queensland, Donaldson became Senior Chaplain for the Church of England. The Primate appointed Archbishop Clarke of Melbourne as Chaplain General for the Navy and Bishop Riley of Perth for the Army. The latter appointment was made because Riley had had some experience as an Army chaplain. In peacetime, it might have worked successfully, but it was an appointment that caused problems during the war, mainly because of the slowness of communications between one side of the continent and the other, and also because of Riley's unwillingness to act quickly and decisively. After the outbreak of war, the Defence Department altered the 'equal number of chaplains' plan. Instead, it used the 1911 census figures as the basis for allocating chaplaincies within the various denominations. This decision was based on the questionable assumption that enrolments in the Army would be in the same numerical proportions as the denominations

65 Donaldson to Capt. Dash, 28 July 1917, AA. 66 Leonie Forster, High Hopes: The Men and Motives of the Australian Round Table, Melbourne, Melbourne University Press, 1986, p.81. 67 Crowley, A New History, p. 328. 157 indicated by the census, and was the cause throughout the war of much unhappiness between denominations.68 Figures obtained through the good offices of sympathetic Parliamentarian Littleton Groom showed that there were discrepancies between the census figures, the number of enlistments, and the number of chaplains appointed for each denomination. When queried, the Adjutant General explained that at the next intake of chaplains the numbers would probably even out. In some cases, it might be that the Church of England would be above its proper proportion and some of the other denominations might be below. 69 In substantiation of his argument, Donaldson quoted a complaint he received from 'the front' where the proportion of Anglican men of the 7th Infantry Brigade was at least sixty per cent, but there was only one Church of England chaplain to two Free Church chaplains. This was not much of a problem while the Brigade was all together, but if it were separated, which sometimes happened for weeks at a time, some men would be deprived altogether of opportunities for Communion.70 As far as chaplaincy was concerned, Donaldson went to the greatest lengths to see that the troops were not neglected in any way. There were inevitable brushes between Church and Defence Department that were sometimes exacerbated by the distance that separated Chaplain General Riley in Perth from the Defence Department in Melbourne, and some of the problems happened because the Church had no unified policy. Another cause of disagreement was the way chaplains were appointed. A problem was highlighted in a letter from the Bishop of Bathurst to Donaldson. Two of his clergy, who had applied to go as chaplains, were called up only to find that they had to buy their own uniforms, and they were discouraged to find themselves appointed to horse ships with fewer than one hundred men to minister to. This perhaps was the least of the problem. The Bishop of Bathurst wrote that the Senior Chaplain in Sydney was doing everything to discourage the clergy from enlisting. 71 Despite the time the war had been in progress, by 1916 there had been no improvement. There was no dearth of young clergy, and for that matter not-so-young clergy, willing to volunteer as chaplains, and there were more applicants than vacancies from the Protestant churches.72 This circumstance had its own problems, the major one being that a great many troops were deprived of spiritual ministrations, not only when they arrived at their destinations, but also during the voyage. Donaldson applied unremitting pressure on Riley of Perth, Chaplain General for the Army, to have the Defence Department increase the number of chaplains on each voyage73 and on a visit to Melbourne early in1916, Riley was able to arrange that on all hospital ships there would be three chaplains, one Church of England, one Roman Catholic, and one for the

68 McKernan, Churches at War, p. 40. 69 Adjutant General to Groom, 29 October 1915, AA. 70 Donaldson to Riley, 19 October 1915, AA 71 Bp of Bathurst to Donaldson, 13 July 1916, AA 72 See Michael McKernan, Padre. Australian chaplains in Gallipoli and France, Sydney, George Allen & Unwin, 1986 73 Donaldson to Riley, 1 December 1915; Riley to Donaldson, 21 January 1916; Donaldson to Riley 10 March 1916, AA. 158 other denominations.74 At the same time he requested that consideration be given to having three chaplains on each troopship. It would be considered, the Defence Department said, but the Army found it difficult to understand why when chaplains took it in turns with other denominations to have services in camps, the Church was not satisfied if, for example, a Methodist chaplain was on board to minister to non-Roman Catholic troops75. 'The matter must not end there' Donaldson wrote to Riley.76 Ensuing correspondence between the Archbishop and the military authorities, and between Riley and the military authorities went on, and just when there seemed that an impasse had been reached, Donaldson received a telegram from Riley to the effect that the Minister had agreed to send three chaplains on ships carrying over 1,000 men, and unsalaried chaplains when possible, on horse troopers having no salaried chaplains appointed to them.77 Riley's half-hearted efforts had brought little satisfaction from the Defence Department, but when the Y.M.C.A. was granted the concession of giving its secretaries the rank of captain and their rations, and they were allowed to travel on every troopship, besides being commissioned as chaplains at the Front, Donaldson considered this to be outrageous, and saw the object of the military authorities being to discourage denominationalism, and to divide religion into 'what they call 'Catholics' and 'Protestants' the latter of which are to be undenominational.' The Roman Catholic predominance, Donaldson felt was due to the fact 'that we Anglicans have taken a friendly line with the government, while the Romans take a cantankerous and obstinate line.' He held high hopes for the Bishop's Meeting to be held in May 1916 that the Church would speak with a united voice, 'such as will make any recurrence of the Minister's insolent answer to you of February 3rd impossible for the future'.78 Donaldson understood how difficult things were for Riley, he said, and attached no blame to him, although the implication of 'blame' was not far below the surface. In Egypt, the intrusion of the Y.M.C.A. in to the area of troop welfare was a cause of further disquiet and annoyance for the Archbishop. He thought that the Church needed a bishop in Egypt to oversee theactivities of the Anglican chaplains and the moral welfare of the soldiers. He suggested that the Bishop of North Queensland, who wanted to go, would be the best man, although perhaps 'he is too marked a churchman.' Riley himself had offered to go to Egypt,79 but Donaldson thought Riley should not go. A short time afterwards, Donaldson learned indirectly that Riley had been gone for some months to act as Chaplain General in England. Donaldson wrote to the Primate seeking confirmation, and asking if a locum tenens had been appointed. Wright responded that the military had appointed the Archbishop of Melbourne as locum tenens for Riley. In 1915, General Birdwood had refused to allow Australian Church of England chaplains in Egypt to conduct separate Easter services, but

74 Riley to Donaldson, 21 January 1916, AA. 75 Riley to Donaldson, 21 January 1916, AA 76 Donaldson to Riley, 10 March 1916. 77 Riley to Donaldson, 7 July 1916. 78 Donaldson to Riley, 22 March 1916, AA. 79 Dodds to Riley, 29 Feb 1916, AA. Dodds suggested to Riley that there should be a Chaplain General stationed in Egypt. Riley sent a copy of Dodds‘ letter to Donaldson. 159 compelled troops to attend combined services conducted by whatever non- Roman Catholic clergyman was available. Donaldson believed that the premise on which Birdwood had based his decree was wrong, and apparently, his complaint eventually bore fruit. By 1917, however, Donaldson was still waging a campaign both with the Army and with Riley over combined services at home. Having achieved some sort of victory with regard to having separate services for Church of England troops overseas, Donaldson turned his attention to aspects of immorality among the troops in Egypt. The tales of the troops' behaviour, which he had been told by 'unnamed individuals', were 'lurid enough' but the fact that there were some thirty thousand prostitutes in Cairo, mostly from Europe and drawn there by the troops, told its own tale.80 One chaplain thought the press reports were a bit over the fence and altogether gave a false impression of the actual circumstances.81 Like so many other situations Donaldson tried to improve, his efforts in this instance came to nothing through no fault of his own.

Conclusion Despite his intense imperial patriotism, the war years were of considerable frustration for the Archbishop, not least on recruitment. Despite his efforts at the 1916 Bishops' Meeting and at General Synod he was unable to achieve his aim of having a common policy within the Church with regard to chaplaincy. He was unhappy with the slowness of communications between the east and west coasts, and at Riley's apparent inactivity, to the point where he thought it necessary to intervene. He was not always successful; but to the extent that some of the problems were overcome, the success was due in no small part to his unremitting efforts. Despite Donaldson's aversion to sectarianism, tensions between Catholics and Protestants remained high in 1918. These were issues not of his making. When the war was coming to an end, Donaldson turned his mind to the problems of post-war reconstruction, and to the re-establishment of the diocese on a peace-time footing.

80 Donaldson to Riley, 10 March 1916, AA. 81 McKernan, Padre, p.34. 160

Anglicanism and Communism in Cold War Australia: The Visit of the 'Red Dean' of Canterbury, 1950

Doris le Roy Victoria University, Melbourne

The overarching purpose of this paper is to explore the fight against communism within Australia in the early Cold War, specifically in relation to the Anglican Church. There is an extensive literature on the interaction between the Roman Catholic Church, the trade union movement and the Australian Labor Party. The influence of the Roman Catholic clergy and hierarchy and, especially, the ability of the Pope in Rome to control his flock has also received scholarly attention. In contrast, the influence exerted within the Anglican Church by its Primate and priests over the issue of communism has been either overlooked or inadequately understood. This paper seeks to rectify that historiographical oversight. It will argue that the Australian Anglican Church became entwined with the international battle by the Anglican Communion to combat the allegedly pernicious doctrine of communism. The paper will also suggest that Anglicans‟ involvement in this conflict extracted a heavy price from both those who denigrated the communist system and those who extolled its virtues. At the beginning of the 1950s societal attitudes to religion were correctly defined as one of „respect‟. In particular this paper will concentrate on the visit of the 'Red' to Australia in 1950 for the communist sponsored Peace Congress in Melbourne and his subsequent tour around Australia. The activities of fellow Anglican, American Professor Joseph Fletcher, who was also invited to the Congress as a main speaker and who travelled with the Dean will also be discussed. The paper will contend that by the end of the 1950s, such „respect‟ was significantly diminished by Anglicans‟ involvement in the Cold War struggle. Passing comment will be made to the dogmatic stance adopted by the newly elected Primate, Archbishop Gough, regarding Anglican participation to the 1959 Peace Congress.

Following the overthrow of the Russian Czar in 1917 and the establishment and consolidation of the Soviet regime, members of the worldwide Anglican Communion had been involved in debate regarding the official stance that the Church should adopt in regard to communism. Some saw virtue in its opposition to the rapacious greed of capitalism, while others considered it was an atheistic creed which must be defeated. This paper will explore the effect of the Lambeth Conference Resolutions of 1948 in regard to the Australian Church. The visit of the 'Red' Dean of Canterbury, and of the American Episcopalian Professor Joseph Fletcher, both (WPC) members, for a Peace Congress in Melbourne in 1950 tested the resolve of those resolutions. This paper will examine how their efforts to transmit their message, that there should be no war on communism, was received by those within the Church implacably opposed to communism and by those Anglicans prepared to work with the WPC. While the Pan Anglican Congress in Minneapolis in August 1954 endorsed the 1948 resolution regarding communism, the next Lambeth Conference in 1958 showed support for the United Nations to manage world affairs, with input from the World Council of Churches advisory body,

161

Committee of the Churches on International Affairs. Australian Anglicans were again forced to make decisions regarding attendance at another Peace Congress in Melbourne in 1959, when the world was preoccupied with avoiding nuclear disaster. The effect of the dictums of the newly elected Australian Primate and his bishops will be briefly examined in this regard.

Lambeth 48 Much attention has been paid to the actions within the Roman Catholic Church during the 1950s in combating communism within Australia.1 The encyclicals issued by the Pope —such as 'Divine Redemptoris' (1937), where Catholic Action was enjoined to be 'the first and immediate apostles' with the priests against 'the snares of communism'—had no parallel within the Anglican Communion.2 However, the 1948 Lambeth Conference, called by Archbishop of Canterbury, the Most Reverend Dr did pass resolutions which were specific in their intention that the Anglican Communion worldwide should fight communism. Before Lambeth 48, which proceeded the 1948 Inaugural Assembly of the World Council of Churches, Archbishop Fisher had been approached to become involved with efforts to further President Truman's ambitions for an 'international anti- communist religious front' which would have included the Roman Catholic Church.3 While these political manoeuvres came to nothing the Lambeth Conference strongly condemned communism. It declared: 'Marxian Communism is contrary to the Christian faith and practice, for it denies the existence of God, revelation, and a future life... it is the special duty of the Church to oppose the challenge of the Marxian theory of Communism'.4 It also declared that the conference '...recognises that there are occasions when both nations and individuals are obliged to resort to war as the lesser of two evils'.5 Reinforcement came in the encyclical letter issued at the completion of the conference, read in 100 different languages throughout the world on 10 October 1948.6

1 Bruce F Duncan, Crusade or Conspiracy : Catholics and the Anti-Communist Struggle in Australia, Sydney, UNSW, 2001; see also Paul Ormonde, Paul Ormonde (ed.), ‗The Movement - Politics by Remote Control,‘ in Santamaria: The Politics of Fear: Critical Reflections, Richmond, Spectrum Publications, 2000, pp. 163-864; Paul Ormonde, The Movement, Melbourne, Thomas Nelson Australia, 1972; R. Murray, The Split :Australian Labor in the Fifties, Melbourne, Cheshire, 1972; Frank Rooney, Dictators within the Labor Party of Australia, Brighton-le-Sands, NSW Tower House Publications, 2005. 2 ‗Pius X1, ‗Divini Redemptoris, Encyclical of Pope Pius X1 on Atheistic Communism to the Patriarchs, Primates, Archbishops, Bishops, and Other Ordinaries in Peace and Communion with the Apostolic See‘, in Encyclicals, Rome,1937, available online at www.vatican.va/.../pius_xi/.../hf_p-xi_enc_19031937_divini-redemptoris_en.html; See also Leo Dalton, ‗Red Menace in Australia‘, Australian Catholic Truth Society Record, 10 July 1937. 3 Dianne Kirby, ‗Harry S. Truman‘s International Religious Anti-Communism Front, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the 1948 Inaugural Assembly of the World Council of Churches‘, Contemporary British History, vol. 15, no. 4, 2001, pp. 35-70, pp. 46-47. 4 Resolution 25, Church of England: Resolutions passed at the Lambeth Conference, 1948. By permission, the Secretary General of the Anglican Consultative Council 2006; see Lambeth Conference 1948, The Lambeth Conference 1948: The Encyclical Letter from the Bishops, Together with Resolutions and Reports, London, S.P.C.K., 1948. 5 Resolution 10, The Lambeth Conference 1948. 6 ‗Lambeth Encyclical‘, The Church of England Messenger, 27 August 1948, p. 327. 162

The anti-communist bent of both the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Archbishop of York, The Most Reverend , the most senior churchmen in the Anglican Communion, is a matter of record.7 Garbett's wholehearted support for the English Government and its policies earned him 's description as the 'Archiepiscopal Ulysses'.8 The enthusiasm of the 'Red' Dean of Canterbury for the Soviet cause was a source of considerable embarrassment to both of the Archbishops, who spent much time endeavouring to dissociate the Church from the dean's activities. The visit to Australia in April 1950 of the spritely 76 year old dean for the Melbourne Peace Congress resulted in a flurry of correspondence between Lambeth and Australia. Fisher advised Archbishop Booth of Melbourne that the dean was 'incorrigible' and that he should not be 'received'.9 Fisher was known to resort to humour in dealing with the Dean: 'Dare I say that when he is home I wish he were overseas? And still more profoundly, when he is overseas, I wish he were home'.10 The Dean's visit forced Australian Anglicans to consider their stance toward both the Dean and the Lambeth Resolutions on communism.

The Australian Peace Congress. The Australian Peace Congress, the focus of the Dean's visit to Melbourne in April 1950, was organised by the Australian Peace Council (APC). While there is some debate regarding the origins of the Victorian branch of the Council, it was certainly dependent on communist support.11 This support, and the widespread reputation of the Dean of Canterbury as not only a communist sympathiser but one who openly endorsed communism, helped label the Congress as a communist endeavour. Ian Turner, who had

7 Dianne Kirby, Church, State and Propaganda: The Archbishop of York and International Relations, a Political Study of Cyril Forster Garbett, 1942-1955, Hull, University of Hull Press, 1999. See also Kirby, Religion and the Cold War, Hampshire, Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. 8 Kirby, Church, State and Propaganda, p. 8. 9 Ruth Frappell et al. Anglicans in the Antipodes: An Indexed Calendar of the Papers and Correspondence of the Archbishops of Canterbury, 1788-1961, Relating to Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific, Westport, Greenwood Press, 1999, vol. 70, ff. 322-43, pp. 294- 295. 10 ‗The Christian Hope‘, Time Magazine, 6 September 1954. 11 For a discussion on communist involvement see Doris LeRoy, ‗Pyrrhic Victory? The ‗Red Dean‘ Visits Australia‘, BA Honours Thesis Victoria University, 2006, pp. 25-27. Anglican Heather Murray (nee Wakefield) claimed that the Congress would not have happened without the input of the CPA. Personal conversation, 30 July 2006. Wakefield was listed on the National Executive of the Australian Peace Council in a list of APC members in an undated document; see New South Wales Division of the Australian Peace Council, ASIO File, ‗Rev. Francis John Hartley‘, National Archives of Australia (hereafter NAA), A6119/1101, f. 175. The origin of this list is uncertain, however Heather Murray claimed it is inaccurate in that she represented the ALP Club at the Melbourne University, and Judith Lyell was the Student Christian Movement (SCM) representative. This seems possible, since the SCM ceased supporting the APC after the Congress while Wakefield remained involved. See also Phillip Deery‘s account of the first meeting of the Victorian Peace Council at Rev. Victor James‘ home, the manse of the Unitarian Church. Phillip Deery, ‗War on Peace: Menzies, the Cold War and the 1953 Convention on Peace and War‘, Australian Historical Studies, vol. 34, no. 122, October 2003, pp. 248 – 269. This version does fit with Wakefield‘s assertion that meetings were held at James‘ house as it was central. She recalls Ian Turner transported her from the University, as she did not have alternative means. 163 served the Communist Party Australia (CPA) well in the Eureka Youth League, and also in the Australian Student Labour Federation, had been allotted the task of organising secretary. In addition to Dean Johnson, international Anglican Communion involvement in the Peace Congress came in the presence of 45 year-old American Professor Joseph T. Fletcher, of the Episcopal Theological School, Harvard. A very different Anglican from the dean, Professor Fletcher was not only an outstanding theologian; he was also a lifelong radical social activist who was later to attract the attention of Senator McCarthy and the House Un-American Activities Committee in America.12 Dean C. W. Chandler from Holy Trinity Cathedral in Auckland also attended. Local Anglican clergy shared the platform; Canon F. E. Maynard of St. Peter's, Eastern Hill, well known for his lectures which explored Christianity and Socialism, and Canon W. G. Thomas, a retired Anglican clergyman, who had been active in the Australian Board of Missions. Thomas was on the executive of the APC, as was Heather Wakefield, an Anglican parishioner at St Peter's Church. Great emphasis was placed on clerical involvement by the WPC, which both the CPA and the APC supported. The list of the National Executive of the APC circulated in the security files shows that the 'Peace Parsons'—as Rev. Alfred Dickie (Presbyterian), Rev. Frank Hartley (Methodist) and Rev. Victor James (Unitarian Church) became known—held the posts of Chairman, and joint Secretaries respectively.13 Dean Emeritus H. T. Langley joined those welcoming Johnson to Melbourne at Essendon Airport on 15 April 1950. Maynard, whose socialist tendencies were proven, was known for his 'espousal of philosophic Marxism as a way of life'.14 The series of lectures regarding Socialism and the Church, held in the Chapter House of St. Paul‘s Cathedral, Melbourne in 1944, were an accepted activity to reconcile Christianity with communism.15 In these endeavours he was joined by Ralph Gibson, of the CPA, and Kurt Mertz, later to become a secretary to Dean Johnson in Canterbury. Dean Langley of St Paul's and Bishop Johnson of Ballarat were happy to be associated with the published version of A Fair Hearing for Socialism. The ideas explored in Maynard's lectures became politically sensitive once Cold War tensions developed. Maynard was also influential in the Student Christian Movement (SCM);

12 Fletcher‘s problems with HUAC are outlined in an article cited on ‗Premarital Sex Upheld by Cleric‘, Greensbro Daily News, 16 April 1966, http://www.americanpresbyterianchurch.org/sex.htm In this article details are given of the naming of Fletcher on 6 July 1953. Fletcher refers to HUAC as ‗the Un-American Committee‘ in an extensive bibliography of his work, prepared by him. Missing is the article which attracted the opprobrium of HUAC, Fletcher could not locate it. See Joseph Fletcher, ‗Bibliography of Joseph Fletcher‘, Theology Today vol.33, no. 4, 1977, pp. 409- 422. 13 For a detailed study of the ‗Peace Parsons‘ see Robert Iain McArthur, ‗Christ and the Cold War; an Exploration of the Political Activism of the Reverends Frank Hartley, Alfred Dickie and Victor James, 1942-1972‘, PhD thesis Melbourne University, 2008. Also, Douglas Jordan, ‗The Trojan Dove‘? Intellectual and Religious Peace Activism in the early Cold War‘, BA Honours Thesis, Faculty of Arts, Victoria University, 2004 14 ‗G.J.T. Remembers‘, St .Peter‟s Church Archives‟. Probably this person is the Reverend Geoffrey Taylor, the Vicar of St. Peter‘s in 1973. 15 F. E. Maynard, K. Mertz, R. Gibson, Fair Hearing for Socialism, Melbourne, 1944. Mertz led the MU SCM branch in the May Day procession in 1948. 164 the SCM was initially involved in the APC, but withdrew after the Congress.16 Dean Langley led the 1947 May Day procession in Melbourne, while Mertz led the Melbourne University SCM branch.17 Maynard had an affinity with Johnson: the Dean stayed at the St Peter's Vicarage while in Melbourne for the Congress, while the rest of the party stayed at the Chevron Hotel.18 This link was reinforced when Mertz became one of Johnson's secretaries.19

The 'Red' Dean Johnson's socialist tendencies had previously been tolerated within the Church of England. Although never suffering deprivation himself, as he came from a wealthy family, he was always interested in social justice. He did not achieve his aim to join the Church Missionary Society, which decided his theology was too liberal.20 He had been friends with Archbishop (Fisher's predecessor, d. 1944) for many years.21 His M15 file revealed the security forces had monitored his activities from 1917—when he shared a platform with Bertrand Russell and spoke 'in support of the Russian people's struggle'.22 He was made Cathedral in 1924 and in 1931 he was appointed Dean of .23 He travelled to China. As this was a personal risk in 1932, he obtained his own insurance to placate the canons of the Cathedral. He had already offended them by having Gandhi to stay when in London for the 1931 Round Table Conference, described by one of Johnson's biographers as 'an early and unfruitful stage in the slow progress

16 See ‗The Scope of Our Work‘, The Australian Intercollegian, 1 August 1950, p. 96, for a letter objecting to the reasons for the withdrawal, among which was ‗Embarrassment at association with communists‘, and ‗ the inability of our representatives to make any impression on the APC ‗line‘, since the communists elements are so strong‘. Ralph Gibson‘s brother —Boyce—was an influential member of ASCM and was opposed to communism. 17 Renata Howe, A Century of Influence: The Australian Student Christian Movement, Sydney: UNSW Publishing, 2009, p. 267. She attributes the security forces as being suspicious of Mertz as a communist spy who infiltrated the ASCM and the security forces as being responsible for the disruption of one of Maynard‘s lectures on campus in 1948. 18 Colin Holden, From Tories at Prayer to Socialists at Mass: A History of St Peter‟s Eastern Hill, Carlton, Melbourne University Press, 1996,, p. 224. Holden refers to Booth as describing the ‗theoretical idealism‘ of communism and claims pressure was clearly applied to Maynard to disassociate himself from the Congress and the Dean. 19 Holden, From Tories at Prayer to Socialists at Mass, p. 221. Manyard could have joined other pacifist clergy in organisations such as the Federal Pacifist Council, or the Australian Peace Pledge Union. 20 Robert Hughes, The Red Dean, Worthing, Churchman Publishing Ltd, 1987, pp. 23-24. 21 ‗The Life and Times of Hewlett Johnson‘, (1903-1924), available online http://library.kent.ac.uk/library/special/html/specoll/Hewchron3.htm 22 Paul Taylor, ‗Ewan Mccoll and the M15 Files‘, Manchester Evening News, 6 March 2006. The Dean‘s files were released on the same day, 6 March 2006, as those of communist musician Ewan MacColl, with whom the Dean had shared platforms. MacColl‘s files received rather more attention from the media than the Dean‘s. Johnson chaired a meeting on 9 November 1917 where Bertrand Russell spoke to celebrate the overthrow of the Czar ‗The Life and Times of Hewlett Johnson‘, (1903-1924), available online http://library.kent.ac.uk/library/special/html/specoll/Hewchron3.htm 23 These two appointments were made by Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald on the recommendation of his good friend Temple. 165 of India towards independence'.24 The canons boycotted the reception the dean hosted for Gandhi, whom they considered to be an 'open rebel against law and order'.25 After a brief flirtation with Major C. H. Douglas's Social Credit organisation26 Johnson focussed on The Left Book Club, founded by the publisher, .27 The Club offered an alternative ideology to fascism and fought for world peace, with Gollancz providing the necessary resources for the intellectuals to hone their arguments and publish their material. Johnson became a frequent speaker and was provided with an avenue to circulate his works.28 Johnson's desire to visit Russia deepened with exposure to the influences of the 'real experts‘ on the ; these included John Strachey, a leading British Marxist and left leaning clerics such as G. O. Iredell and Stanley Evans. Johnson's sympathies towards communism were strengthened by his experiences in Spain during the civil war. He directly observed the notorious bombing of Durango by the Germans, and refuted claims by 'Franco's H.Q...that the Reds had blown up churches in Durango and killed the nuns'.29 Johnson's correction of the erroneous assumption by Franco's representative that he was the Archbishop of Canterbury [then ] was met with the Spaniard‘s reply: 'I regret the mistake, a stupid mistake indeed, for all the world knows that the Archbishop of England is on our side'. This observation underscored the political differences between Johnson and the leader of his Church.30 Johnson also travelled to Russia in 1937, claiming his support of the 1917 Revolution and his known sympathies with the Soviet Union gave him contacts which enabled him, in three months 'of wide travel and research to see more of the Soviet Union than many other men saw in as many years'.31 He had befriended Ivan Maisky, the Russian Ambassador to Britain, who had obtained the invitation for him to visit.32 He was accompanied by A. T.

24 Hughes, The Red Dean, p. 64. This visit was organised by Christians concerned to work for just and reconciliation in India, a cause the Dean would have embraced wholeheartedly. In his papers is a cutting of a newspaper letter from ‗Rothmere‘ saying only a few elderly clerics and political cranks supported Gandhi. 25 Hughes, The Red Dean, p. 65. 26 This movement was most influential in Canada and in New Zealand, where the Social Credit Party achieved some electoral success. 27 See Ruth Dudley Edwards, Victor Gollancz: A Biography, London, Gollancz, 1987. A listing of the papers of Victor Gollancz Ltd., held by Warwick University at http://www.warwick.ac.uk/services/library/mrc/ead/318.htm include those used by Ruth Edwards for her biography of Gollancz. 28 Hollander decided to class Johnson an ‗intellectual‘ partly since he published widely. See Paul Hollander, Political Pilgrims: Western Intellectuals in search of the good society, New York,Harper Colophon Books, 1981, 4th edn. 1990, fn. 39, p. 452. 29 Hewlett Johnson, Searching for Light, An Autobiography, London, Michael Joseph Ltd, 1968, pp. 144-145. See also ‗Dean Watches Raid on Bilbao‘, GuardianCentury, 5 April 1937, available online http://century.guardian.co.uk/1930-1939/Story/0,,127074,00.html. Johnson travelled to Spain against the wishes of Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden. 30 Johnson, Searching for Light, p.145.There was much pro-Franco Conservative feeling in England at the time. For discussion of similarities of sympathetic reaction to both fascism and communism see Hollander, Political Pilgrims, pp. 58-59. 31 Johnson, Searching for Light, p.149 32 Butler, ‗The ‗Red‘ Dean of Canterbury‘, p. 5. Butler states that this visit is not documented as are Johnson‘s other overseas visits and questions the possible involvement 166

D'Eye, a lecturer at the Workers‘ Educational Association where Johnson sometimes lectured.33 Johnson returned from Russia convinced that:

...in the main they (communists) are right, and I feel I must speak out on behalf of that right...There are many who would like to ring (Russia) around and prevent the success of her experiment from being known to the rest of the world. I feel, therefore, that I must take my part in this battle, which has a common front stretching from Spain to China.34

He never swayed from his path. Victor Gollancz commissioned him to write a book on Russia on his return and published it through the Left Book Club.35 The Socialist Sixth of the World, written in collaboration with D'Eye and illustrated by Nowell Edwards, made Johnson famous.36 The book was translated into 24 languages and ran to 22 editions.37 D'Eye, who had spent several months in Russia in 1934,38 provided the 'solid academic argument' missing from the mainly 'theological argument of the Christian Socialists'.39 The chapter of Canterbury Cathedral was scandalised by Johnson's support of the Soviets, especially after the non-aggression pact the Soviet Union signed with Nazi Germany in August 1939. They voiced their dismay in a letter to the Times in March 1940, dissociating themselves from the 'political utterances of the Dean of Canterbury'.40 In this they were at one with Archbishop Lang—and much later Archbishop Fisher, who urged him to give up 'either politics or the Deanery', a choice Johnson never of VOKS – The All-Union Society for Cultural Relations with Foreign Countries - the organisation founded to squire Western intellectuals around Russia. There is reference to VOKS on his later visits. Since VOKS‘ involvement in the visits of Western intellectuals is well documented, there appears little doubt of the organisation‘s involvement in all the visits of the Dean to the USSR. Hollander, Political Pilgrims, p. 109, records Eugene Lyons‘ comment of the ability of VOKS to ‗sell‘ the efficient operation of Soviet slaughter houses to vegetarians. 33 Johnson, Searching for Light, p. 149 34 Johnson, Searching for Light, p. 96 cites a letter to Brian Duningham, 24 November 1937. Dunningham is presumably the theosophist Brian Dunningham, who was President and General Secretary of the Theosophical Society of New Zealand. See http://www.theosophy.org.nz/about_TSinNZ.html 35 Johnson, Searching for Light, p. 96. Gollancz had also travelled in Russia. Files located by Ludmila Stern, Western Intellectuals and the Soviet Union, 1920-40: From Red Square to the Left Bank, New York, Routledge, 2007, pp. 147-151, stated that VOKS considered Gollancz ‗a ‗businessman‘, and not a very pleasant one‘. Gollancz had also alienated Dr. Fisher, who would become Archbishop of Canterbury, when working as a teacher at Repton School from 1916 to 1918, where Fisher was the Headmaster. See David Hein, Geoffrey Fisher: Archbishop of Canterbury 1945-1961, K.C. Hanson, Charles M. Collyer, (eds), Princeton Theological Monograph Series 77, Eugene, Pickwick Publications, 2007, pp 10-13. 36 Johnson‘s views on religion in Russia seem contrary to those of Beatrice and Sidney Webb, whose book Soviet Communism: A new Civilisation, Vol 1, London, Left Book Club, 1937, favoured the ‗scientific‘ theory as to Russia‘s advancement and gave examples of repression of religion; see pp. 1004-1016 (‗Anti-Godism‘). Hollander, Political Pilgrims discusses the paradox of clergymen such as Johnson who claimed that the Soviet Union came closer to the ideals of Christianity than Western society, p. 117. 37 Hewlett Johnson, The Socialist Sixth of the World, London, Left Book Club, 1939. 38 ‗The Life and Times of Hewlett Johnson‘ (1931-1939); see also Hughes, The Red Dean, p. 206. Hughes comments on suspicions of some that D‘Eye was in fact ‗Moscow‘s agent‘. 39 Hughes, The Red Dean, p.78. 40 Butler, ‗The ‗Red‘ Dean‘, pp. 2-3. 167 intended to make.41 The archbishops' belief that the dean was a threat to the stability to the Church of England appears undeniable. More sympathetic conditions briefly prevailed for Johnson between the Lang and Fisher periods, when Lang relinquished the post of Archbishop of Canterbury and William Temple was enthroned in 1942, creating a better working relationship for Johnson with his archbishop. The invasion of the Soviet Union by German forces in June 1941 saw Johnson and D'Eye launch the National Anglo-Soviet Medical Aid Fund.42 Johnson, who had long been involved in efforts to encourage better relations with the USSR, now functioned in a favourable context. He concentrated on his war work, instituting bombing defences for Canterbury Cathedral, and was appointed to the Board of the British Communist Party‘s Daily Worker in 1943.43 Johnson was later to become chairman of the board.44 The sudden death of Archbishop Temple in 1944 saw the appointment of Geoffrey Fisher to the See of Canterbury and as head of the Anglican Communion worldwide, on the recommendation of the Conservative Prime Minister Winston Churchill. A very difficult relationship developed between the Archbishop of Canterbury and his dean which lasted until Fisher retired in May 1961.45 While Temple had remained 'an idealistic man of the Left', Fisher was 'firmly anti- communist'.46 Johnson's next overseas trip commenced in May 1945 and was a fact finding tour to the USSR with D'Eye. The pectoral cross, which became Johnson's trademark and caused him problems with Archbishop Fisher, was given to him in Moscow at this time by Patriarch Alexei of the . As a dean he was not entitled to wear such a cross but Johnson wore it constantly, and this contributed to the confusion felt by some as to his ranking in the Church of England.47 Fisher wrote to Johnson asking him not to wear the cross, a request Johnson ignored.48 Johnson also met Stalin; his fulsome account of his interview with Stalin, with Molotov in attendance, demonstrated Johnson‘s uncritical approach toward Stalin which he never relinquished.49 Johnson was awarded 'The

41 Butler, ‗The ‗Red‘ Dean‘, p.3 42 Johnson, Searching for Light, p. 191 43 Johnson, Searching for Light, p.191 44 News Weekly, 19 April 1950, p. 1, claimed the Dean told the English press that being made a director of the Daily Worker was the greatest day of his life. 45 For a favourable study of Dr. Fisher see Edward Carpenter, Archbishop Fisher: His Life and His Times, Norwich, Canterbury Press, 1991. 46 David Hein, Geoffrey Fisher, p. 85. 47 Pectoral crosses were normally only worn by bishops/Archbishops as a badge of office. Deans, while in charge of cathedrals and controlling what occurs in them, are hierarchically inferior to both bishops and archbishops. The wearing of large pectoral crosses by them is not usual. As well it is seen as an Anglo Catholic practice. The Diocese of Sydney in Australia does not favour the use of crosses, while many Anglo-catholic lay persons do wear them. 48 Hughes, The Red Dean, pp.136-137. 49 Johnson, Searching for Light, pp. 228-233. This meeting and that with Patriarch Alexei confirms that Stalin initiated a ‗peace offensive‘ and that religion was used as a weapon in the Cold War. See Doris LeRoy, ‗Pyrrhic Victory? The ‗Red Dean‘ Visits Australia.‘, BA Honours Thesis Victoria University, 2006. Hollander, Political Pilgrims, pp. 170-3, records that eulogistic accounts of meetings with Stalin are not peculiar to Johnson, but that Johnson ‗excelled...perhaps because of the occupational requirement of humility to the divine‘. 168

Order of the Red Banner of Labour' by the praesidium of the Supreme Soviet for collecting funds to aid the Soviet Union.50 Johnson found a 'growing tide of opinion' against the Soviet regime upon his return to Britain.51 His 'uncritical idolisation' of communism meant that Johnson ignored Russia's shortcomings, believing there was sufficient criticism of it and that there was need for one-sided advocacy.52 This advocacy was to be tested during the escalation of the Cold War, when he became an eloquent and charismatic speaker extolling the peaceful motives of the Soviet Union through the Soviet-inspired World Peace movement. On the whole the Anglican Communion worldwide followed Fisher' lead; Anglicans saw the dean as an embarrassment whose obsessions with Stalin, the Soviets and the communist system generally created problems both within and outside of the Church. However, Johnson also received much support from ordinary people when under attack. His private papers reveal the extent of enthusiasm 'ordinary' men and women had for him. These documents show that Johnson was:

...not simply as an ecclesiastical irritant who used his high office as an international stage for promoting his political views but as one who was in touch and in touch with a wide swathe of popular opinion. He spoke for a large segment of the public and he stood up to wheedling politicians and bullying journalists. Half the population, it seems, loved him for it. The other, it has to be said, hated his guts.53

Such ambivalence was displayed in the years following the war. An invitation to visit the United States by the Friends of American Soviet Unity in 1945 saw him speak at Madison Square Garden, New York, and at Chicago, Boston, Toronto and Montreal. He met President Truman, Henry Wallace and Fiorello La Guardia, the Mayor of New York.54 In 1948, Johnson again was invited to the United States to speak by the American- Soviet Friendship Society. However, his visa application was refused since the Society was now regarded as a communist 'front' organisation. It needed a private invitation from Harvard Professor Ralph Perry, and a petition by 93 eminent writers, churchmen and rabbis to enable him to enter the United States. The widespread Anglican condemnation of the Dean's activities was displayed when the Protestant Episcopal Bishop of Los Angeles, the Rt Rev. Francis Eric Bloy, spoke out against Johnson after the visa decision was reversed. Bloy 'disassociated' himself from the political and economic views of the Dean, and warning other clergy not be seen with him.55 The tour this time was even grander than the 1945 tour, the climax being the Madison Square Garden rally, where Johnson's expertise in projecting a prophetic vision swept the crowd off their feet.56 Between these two visits

50 ‗The Life and Times of Hewlett Johnson‘. 51 ‗The Life and Times of Hewlett Johnson‘, pp. 247-248. 52 Hughes, The Red Dean, pp. 206-207. 53 Butler, ‗The ‗Red‘ Dean of Canterbury‘, p.4. 54 ‗The Life and Times of Hewlett Johnson‘; Hughes, The Red Dean, p. 138. 55 ‗BISHOP BLOY WON‘T GREET ‗RED DEAN‘: Los Angeles Prelate Warns Clergymen Against Appearing with British Churchman‘, Los Angeles Times, 3 November 1948, p. 16. 56 Hughes, The Red Dean, pp. 141-143. 169 to the US Johnson's activities behind the Iron Curtain led Archbishop Fisher to issue a Press Statement disassociating himself from Johnson's political views.57 The unquestioning but controversial acceptance by the Dean of the Soviet system was shown when he appeared for the defence of the French Communist periodical, Les Lettres Francaises, which was being sued by Victor Kravchenko for libel after he was labelled as a liar and a Western spy in a review of his book, I Chose Freedom.58 At 75 years of age, Johnson showed signs of the heavy physical and mental strains imposed by his incessant travelling and his duties as dean of Canterbury. Although his doctors ordered him to take one month's sick leave, Johnson insisted on attending the World Peace Conference in Rome first. The despatch regarding this conference sent by the British Embassy to Prime Minister Attlee in November 1949 particularly singled out the Dean of Canterbury as 'the most publicised single figure' in the local press.59 This focus on clerical involvement was also noted in the Australian Rupert Lockwood's account of the Paris World Peace Congress in April 1949.60 Johnson's attendance in Rome received critical attention from British authorities, but accolades from the crowd. The cries of 'Johnson for Pope' did not endear him to the Church to which he claimed allegiance.61 The dean seemed unperturbed that he was, in effect, using his position in the Church to further a political agenda. It seemed inconceivable to those accustomed to the control exerted by the Pope that Johnson could act against the wishes of the leader of his Church.62 It was also at this time that Johnson publicly stated that he had had a pressing invitation to visit Australia. In August 1948 Dean Roscoe Wilson of St. Paul's Cathedral, Melbourne claimed that the dean had been asked to Australia by communists and not by the Church in Australia.63

The Visit of the Red Dean in 1950 The next venture for the Dean was therefore to Australia, where he met with animosity from many sources. The disapproving views of Anglican clergy were highlighted in the press. In addition to the Archbishop of Melbourne, the Dean of St. Paul's Anglican Cathedral, Melbourne, and the Dean of St. Andrew's Anglican Cathedral, Sydney, emphasised that Johnson did not reflect the views of the Church of England.64 In a letter to Archbishop Booth of Melbourne, Fisher stressed that the dean's views in no way reflected the position of the Church of England on communism. As Fisher pointed out, the dean's appointment was by Royal prerogative on the advice of the Prime Minister; he could not be removed from office as he had not

57 ‗The Life and Times of Hewlett Johnson‘. 58 ‗The Life and Times of Hewlett Johnson‘. 59 J.G. Ward on behalf of the Ambassador to Rome, Despatch No. 349, 10 November 1949, Public Record Office, U.K., FO1110, 271. I am grateful to Phillip Deery for this source. 60 Rupert Lockwood, ‗Powerful People‘s Peace Conference Countered a Definite Plan for War‘, The Guardian, 28 October 1949. 61 Hughes, The Red Dean, p.147 62 Ward, Despatch 349. 63 ‗Aussie Commies invite the Red Dean‘, Spokane Daily Chronicle, 26 August 1948, p. 18. 64 ‗Churchmen Cool on ‗Red‘ Dean‘s Visit, Herald, 1 April 1950. 170

'rendered himself liable' to removal from office as 'for that the law requires trial and conviction in some civil or ecclesiastic court'.65 The Anglican press, in the main, heeded Fisher's dictum to ignore Johnson. An exception was the Anglican Church Record (ACR), the paper which held to an evangelical viewpoint and was distributed from the Sydney Diocese. The journal suggested that the visit of the Dean of Canterbury Cathedral posed a 'disconcerting dilemma for loyal church folk'66, not only because of the regard in which the Archbishop of Canterbury was held by the Anglican Communion, but because Canterbury Cathedral 'enshrines the grave and monument of Bishop Broughton, the first and only Bishop of Australia'.67 Reference was made to the donations made by Australian churchmen to restore the Cathedral after severe bombing in WWII. The importance of Canterbury Cathedral in Anglican Communion was noted: 'A long line of great Churchmen, archbishops and deans, enhances its history and stirs our grateful pride and affection',68 and that later in the year the Archbishop of Canterbury will be 'made conscious of an enthusiastic welcome'.69 The dilemma was the visit of the dean:

The Dean of Canterbury comes, invited, not by the leaders of our Church, but by a disloyal group, disloyal to our Empire and disloyal to God, to encourage by his presence and utterance a movement, subtle and relentless, for the destruction of our way of Life, those ideals of life built upon the revelation of God's love in Christ Jesus. Dean Johnson's public utterances in the place of his ministry have been such that his Diocesan, the Archbishop of Canterbury, has on two recent occasions, felt impelled to the most emphatic and public disassociation of himself from the statements of the Dean. This indicates fairly clearly the gravity of the whole position and shows the kind of dilemma in which our leaders are placed. If things were in their usual setting, there could only have been enthusiastic welcome to a Dean of Canterbury. But when his own public utterances are of such a character and he stands forth as a protagonist for the ideals of Soviet Russia, and, in addition, associates himself heartily and uncompromisingly, with these notorious and mischievous, if not criminal disloyalists, we cannot extend to him that welcome which his office would normally enthuse.70

The Rector of the influential St James Anglican Church in Sydney, Rev. E. J. Davidson, was chairman of the Australian Russian Society in Sydney until August, 1948. Prior to the Peace Congress Davidson roundly condemned the World Peace movement when interviewed while passing through Melbourne on his return to Sydney from a ten month tour of England and Germany, advising that 'the present peace campaign was suspect all over Europe'.71 However he would not be drawn to comment on

65 ‗Controversial Cleric is expert on washing-up‘, Australian Womens‟ Weekly, 29 April 1950, p. 33: ‗Primate rejects Red Dean‘s Utterances‘, Canberra Times, 4 April 1950, p. 1. 66 ‗An Uncomfortable Dilemma‘, Australian Church Record, 20 April 1950, p. 3 67 ‗An Uncomfortable Dilemma‘, p. 3 68 ‗An Uncomfortable Dilemma‘, p. 3 69 ‗An Uncomfortable Dilemma‘, p. 3 70 ‗An Uncomfortable Dilemma‘, p. 3 71 ‗Don‘t be hoodwinked by peace drive‘, Sun, 14 April 1950. 171

Johnson's visit. In Sydney he labelled 'the 'so called' Peace Congress as 'phoney', and 'trying to undermine the Atlantic Pact'.72

Professor Joseph T. Fletcher It should not be forgotten that Johnson was not the only controversial Anglican visiting Australia at this time. Fletcher could have been regarded as far more dangerous and subversive than Johnson—had his background been known. Fletcher had to travel to Australia through England, as he was not granted transit visas for Egypt and Malaysia. The fledging Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO) was not yet trusted by the US authorities and was unlikely to have had prior knowledge of either Fletcher or Mr Fred Stover, co-chairman of the U.S. National Progressive Party and president of the Iowa Farmers' Union.73 The APC was happy to invite them as substitutes for the singer Paul Robeson (who was unable to attend).74 While ASIO was unprepared to cope with the scale of the Peace Congress, Johnson's reputation and security record was readily available to ASIO from M15.75 Like Johnson, Fletcher had come under the influence of the social justice theories of theologian William Temple. Fletcher later wrote a book on Temple, whom he met when Temple was Archbishop of York.76 Fletcher was a product of a broken family with a lapsed Roman Catholic father, whose family regarded his mother as a 'Protestant heretic'.77 His was no sudden conversion to socialism and the trade union movement: his lived experience as a student working in his vacations led him to 'a love affair with Marxism'.78 He was a brilliant student—passing high school in three years instead of the usual four—and going on to State West Virginia University. He had already joined a union, was jailed for speaking in public for the union, and worked part time on the union workers' education of District Seventeen, of the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA). His refusal to undertake any further military training at university after first year on the grounds he 'would not take part in fighting for the capitalist system' brought the decision from the University authorities that he could stay at university—but that he would not be granted a degree.79 Religious

72 ‗Rector Says Peace Council is Hypocritical‘, Herald, 17 April 1950. 73 See Phillip Deery, ‗Communism. Security and the Cold War‘, Journal of Australian Studies, vols. 54-55 (1997), pp. 162-175, regarding the involvement of M15 in the need for the establishment of ASIO. 74 ‗The Story of a Mighty Challenge Against War‘, ‗Peace‘, Journal of the Australian Peace Council, vol. 1, no. 2 (1950), pp. 7-8. 75 Johnson‘s M15 file was released in March, 2006. 76 Joseph Fletcher, William Temple: Twentieth Century Christian, New York, Seabury Press, 1963. Fletcher claimed this book gave him more satisfaction to write than any other of the 225 listed in his Bibliography. Joseph Fletcher, ‗Bibliography of Joseph Fletcher‘, Theology Today vol.33, no. 4, 1977, pp. 409-422, http://theologytoday.ptsem.edu/jan1977/v33-4-criticscorner5.htm 77 Joseph Francis Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical: Reminiscence and Reappraisal, Kenneth Vaux (ed), Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993, p. 56. This autobiographical memoir, prepared from a family diary by Joe Fletcher himself, appeared as Part Two of a reappraisal of his work by colleagues. 78 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 59. 79 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 61. Fletcher was (in 1984) granted an honorary degree of Doctor of Humanities at WVU. 172 conscientious objection was acceptable; political conscientious objection was not.80 So Fletcher went to Berkeley Divinity School in Connecticut without a degree, but with great commitment to his social ideals, which had led him to Christianity and to the Protestant Episcopal Church. But this was not a 'starry-eyed simplistic Marxism'. As a first-year seminarian Fletcher's activism led him to expose a blacklist he discovered while working in a 'Seminarians in Industry' program at the Plymouth Cordage Company that aimed to keep out union sympathisers, one of whom was the famous anarchist Bartolomeo Vanzetti.81 Fletcher's radicalism led him to be involved in the Sacco-Vanzetti Defence Committee in his second year as a seminarian, an experience which affected him deeply. Before his ordination as an Episcopalian priest, he was sent to the National headquarters of the Church in New York to collaborate with the Deputy Warden of Sing Sing prison; this resulted in the co-authored book, The Church and Industry, as well as revealing to Fletcher his desire to write.82 His ability earned him a place at Yale Graduate School, followed by the John Henry Watson Fellowship which enabled him to study in London. For this he needed his degree, which the West Virginia University was then prepared to grant since his theological identity was so strong, as long as he completed a summer Chemistry course!83 His time in England greatly influenced Fletcher—he was able to work under R. H. Tawney, whose Religion and the Rise of Capitalism he found a great intellectual stimulus.84 Fletcher also obtained a curacy at St. Peter's, Regent Square, undertook research at the British Museum, and entered British politics by campaigning for Labour Party candidates in by-elections for London and the Midlands. It was then that he met William Temple. Fletcher's commitment to social justice was beyond question. He refused privileged Church positions abroad as he and his wife felt they should be at home suffering the deprivation of the Depression alongside other Americans. This return saw him continue his trade union activism and teaching, as well as having to accept, from necessity, a teaching position at St Mary's junior college for southern young white ladies in North Carolina, in order 'to buy the groceries'. His social activism outside the college saw him involved in the Burlington Defense Committee for unionists convicted wrongfully on charges of dynamiting the Burlington cotton mill, described by Fletcher as 'a labor frame-up in classic form'.85 The mill owner, who sat on the board of trustees of St Mary's, applied pressure to Fletcher through Bishop Penick of St Mary's who asked him to resign, either from the school or from the defence committee. Fletcher countered by seeking advice from a Federal Court Judge who also sat on the board, who advised him there was no conflict between his activities. The judge also brought pressure to bear

80 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 66. He did eventually gain his BA: after undertaking a chemistry course – on the ground of his theological expertise! 81 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 64. 82 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 65. See also Joseph Fletcher and Spencer Miller, The Church and Industry, New York, Longmans, Green & Co., 1930. 83 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 66 84 Tawney was a Christian and a socialist who taught at the London School of Economics for his entire professional life. His book was immensely influential. See Richard. H. Tawney, Religion and the Rise of Capitalism: A Historical Study, London, Murray, 1926 85 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 70 173 on the Bishop at the board meeting, ensuring Fletcher was not dismissed. But after being told by the board to 'limit his activities of a controversial nature' Fletcher resigned.86 He further showed his defiance by conducting the funeral service for a striker bayoneted to death by the National Guard as they moved into to break up a picket line. His position as Dean of St Paul's Cathedral in Cincinnati came about despite Bishop Hobson of Southern Ohio being warned by Bishop Penick that Fletcher was a 'troublemaker'. St Paul's Cathedral had lost its monied worshippers, leaving it with a severe lack of funds. While under Fletcher's guidance a mural was painted on the wall behind the Lady Chapel of the Cathedral, one of the faces featured that of Karl Marx. His bishop supported him against those seeking to remove it. His ongoing involvement with social activist teachings was to see him 'twice attacked and beaten unconscious by anti-unionist thugs while lecturing in the deep South'.87 His involvement in the Peace Movement doubtless added to the FBI's scrutiny of him but the notoriety of this other 'Red' Dean from Canterbury diverted both the headlines and the attention of the Church hierarchy away from him while in Australia for the Congress. Fletcher's Australian trip was to be his 'last fling as a genuine leftist'. The Sydney press corps subjected him to 'red-baiting' on his arrival in Sydney. He considered neither he nor the Dean of Canterbury could get any support for their efforts to further the cause of making peace at the rank- and-file level, except from 'the left-wing unions and some of the clergy'.88 The majority of the Melbourne clergy boycotted the Peace Congress but Fletcher was invited to 'a closed door session at Cathedral House with a couple hundred of them, to explain my conception of peacemaking and its theology'.89 He asserted 'they re-enacted essentially the Sydney press corps confrontation all over again, only this time in clerical collars'.90 The depth of anti-communist feeling in Melbourne was also illustrated to Fletcher on a personal level when he visited to Harry Bridges' mother, to be told she did not want to hear '...anything about him [Bridges] or from him. Go away'.91 Unlike the Dean of Canterbury, Fletcher later developed sceptical thoughts towards communism and what it was doing in Russia: 'its Party activities were an offense'.92 Fletcher himself acknowledged he was a pragmatist; by the mid 1960s he had left both the Church and his socialist connection behind him, first the socialist connections and then the Church. Fletcher was to become a world authority on moral theory and applied ethics, and was acknowledged as the father of modern bioethics.

86 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 72. 87 ‗Joseph Francis Fletcher‘, Answers.com, http://www.answers.com/topic/joseph-fletcher 88 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, pp. 78-79. This could have been prompted by the growing awareness of the American branch of Anglicanism awakened in Australia during the 1950s, with interchange of clergy and attendance of Australians at theological colleges in the US. 89 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 79. 90 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 79 91 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p. 79. Bridges, a long-time friend of Fletcher, was the Australian who led the longshoreman‘s union on the West Coast of the US. His mother was a staunch Roman Catholic. 92 Fletcher, Memoir of an Ex-Radical, p 80. 174

Noted theologian Richard Neuhaus, himself a Roman Catholic convert in 1990 from being a lifelong Lutheran, stated on Fletcher‘s death in 1991: Fletcher publicly renounced his belief in God and declared himself to be a secular humanist. Thinking that this might raise some question about his relationship to the Church and the priesthood, he told the dean that he could no longer preach or officiate at services. Not to worry, said the dean, hoping that this was but a passing phase. The phase lasted until Fletcher's death. He never did resign his ministry, nor was he asked to. 'Joe saw the Church as a useful institution for advancing his views,' explains a close friend of Fletcher's. Anglicanism prides itself on being inclusive; Fletcher's superiors seemed to see no reason why atheism, too, should not be fairly represented among its clergy.93

Fletcher seems to have found accommodation, even with his humanist views, within the Episcopalian Church. The same accommodation by the Church in England was not made for Johnson with his pro-communist views; indeed Johnson faced increasing opposition to his religio-political endeavours, especially since he retained his high position within the Church of England. The papers of both Johnson and Fletcher reveal their early involvement with the World Peace movement.94 Also revealed is contact between them regarding the 1950 Peace Congress. Fletcher's realistic assessment of the success of the Melbourne Congress is at variance with that of the dean, and indeed of the organisers, who considered it an outstanding success. Fletcher appreciated that they were preaching to the converted in the meetings organised in Melbourne. He had to substitute for the Dean at Melbourne University, where the engineering students had threatened to disrupt the meeting. He had to talk over the fence at Melbourne Teachers College using a megaphone as he was denied access. The Dean did preach at St. Peter's but the Vicarage was targeted by protesters while he was there. He was invited to preach at St. Andrew's Cathedral Sydney, but was asked to restrict his remarks to the restoration of Canterbury Cathedral after the bombing, a request he ignored.95 The Bishop of Newcastle, Rt Rev. Francis , did invite him to stay, but added:

I think it only honest to tell you that I am personally not satisfied as to the bona fides of the movement represented by the Australian Peace Council and Congress, and shall therefore be unable to attend the meeting which you are to address. But please believe that this difference of opinion will not make the slightest difference to the welcome we wish to offer you.96

93 Richard Neuhaus, ‗All Too Human - Tribute to Joseph F. Fletcher‘, National Review, 2 December 1991. 94 Dr. Johnson‘s papers are held at the University of Kent at Canterbury; Johnson, 1932- 1966 http://library.kent.ac.uk/library/special/html/specoll/reddean.htm Dr. Fletcher‘s papers are held at the University of Virginia: http://ead.lib.virginia.edu/vivaead/published/uva- hs/viuh00030.xml.frame 95 See Stuart Barton Babbage, Memoirs of a Loose Canon, Brunswick East, Acorn Press, 2004, pp. 79-80. Ab. Mowll proffered the invitation but ‗found it expedient to be absent in the country‘ when the Dean preached. 96 Hughes, The Red Dean, p. 147. 175

Brisbane was not welcoming. Archbishop Halse had signalled his disapproval, and Johnson encountered heckling in his public meetings, such as at the University at St. Lucia.97 The Dean received a lively reception from 500 students on Wednesday 26 April 1950. He was asked if he represented the Church of England and if he did not think he should resign. He denied that he represented the official church. He instead asked the students not to think of him as representing anybody, but as a common man.98 Johnson was to have travelled onto New Zealand after Australia and then to Canada. The American authorities refused to issue him with a transit visa for Hawaii for the refuelling stop. This forced him to abort the New Zealand leg of his tour and instead he flew back to England to then to Canada. His Canadian visit proved very rowdy—even Johnson admitted 'it had been a stormy visit'.99 Another push to relieve Johnson from his post had no result.100 Winston Churchill considered he could not be dismissed: Queen Elizabeth I had neglected to include attitudes to communism in the 39 Articles regulating Anglican belief. It was obvious, however, that Australian Anglicans would follow the 1948 Lambeth encyclical, not the arguments of Johnson and Fletcher.

Lambeth 58 For Australians the next Lambeth Conference in 1958 posed different questions. The APC had again organised a Congress in Melbourne for 1959. This time secular identities were the main speakers. The nuclear Armageddon was uppermost in the minds of most, and there was relief that Eisenhower and Khrushchev had met in the US. However Australian Anglicans now had a new Primate, elected just prior to the Congress, the very anti-communist Archbishop of Sydney, Dr. . Resolutions from Lambeth appeared to abrogate all responsibility regarding world affairs to the United Nations—Christians to exercise political responsibility: to refuse to allow the Church to be identified with any particular political or social system...' but also that Christians should 'press through their governments...for the abolition by international agreement of nuclear bombs and other weapons of indiscriminate destructive power...'101 Some laypeople in the church objected to the dictum from the Bishops Conference where Gough was elected—that Anglicans should avoid the Congress as it

97 Johnson, Searching for Light, pp.278-279. Ab. Rayner was present at the ‗rowdy‘ meeting at the University of University and vouched for Johnson‘s assertion that he quietened the students. ‗He was most impressive in the way he stilled an antagonistic and heckling crowd‘. Personal correspondence 27 September 2007 98 ‗Lively Reception for Dr. Johnson‘, Canberra Times, 27 April 1950, p. 1. This was also reported in the Chicago Daily Tribune. 99 Johnson, Searching for Light, pp.280-281 100 Anglican the Hon. W. C. Wentworth, MHR, was one who contacted the Archbishop attempting to have action taken regarding the Dean. See Frappell, Anglicans in the Antipodes, vol. 120, Fisher, p. 317, ff. 37-49. The leaders of the Anglican Church certainly did have a difficult balancing act. 101 Woods, Charge to Synod, 29 September 1959, Diocese of Melbourne. 176 was 'directed by a partisan group whose purpose seems to be the dominance of communism'.102 Especially vocal was Dr E. F. DuVergier of Balwyn, an Anglican and secretary of the Education committee of the Congress who considered the Lambeth 58 resolution 106 required that Anglicans should attend the Congress: The Reconciling of Conflicts Between and Within Nations - Modern Warfare and Christian Responsibility: '... abolition of war itself should be the goal of the nations... progressive reduction of armed forces and conventional armaments to the minimum necessary for the maintenance of internal security and the fulfilment of the obligations of states to maintain peace and security in accordance with the United Nations Charter.103 Anglicans should bring the resolution to the attention of government.104 Despite his urgings and that of others at Melbourne Synod who wanted Anglican clergy to attend the Churchmen's Conference of the Congress to foster an alternate view, only two Anglican Churchmen attended, the Dean Emeritus of Auckland, and Rev. Norman Crawford, from Adelaide.105 Chandler's denunciation of Primate Gough at the Congress was applauded and widely reported in the press.106 Crawford wrote the foreword to the Churchmen's report, and his denominational allegiance was highlighted.107 While the 1959 Congress was divisive for reasons not only attributable to the Anglican Church, an opportunity to establish Anglican credentials as seeking solutions to the parlous state of the world was lost, due to the implacability of the hierarchy of the Church, and other anti-communist lay people such as Eric Butler.108 This paper has demonstrated that Anglicans, who then comprised forty per cent of the Australian population, were influenced by the hierarchy and other Anglican pressure groups to boycott efforts to find common ground with the APC to discuss world peace in the 1950s. Despite the softened stance of Lambeth 58, Primate Gough and his Bishops in 1959 issued a directive to their flocks informed by the government of the day.

102 ‗Statement of Peace‘, Bishops‘ Meeting – October 1959, p.4. These minutes are kept by General Synod, Anglican Church of Australia, Diocese of Sydney, I am grateful to the Archivist of General Synod for supplying them. 103 See Lambeth Resolutions Archive for Lambeth 1958, http://www.lambethconference.org/resolutions/downloads/1958.pdf 104 ‗Peace congress ‗, Letters, Anglican, no. 378, 6 November 1959, p. 5 105 Crawford was priest in charge of St. Cyprian‘s Church of England in North Adelaide, see Crockford‟s Clerical Directory, 1969-70, Oxford University Press, Oxford, p. 28, 106 ‗5000 Hear Leaders of Congress Outline Aims‘, Age, 9 November 1959, p. 5. Gough had been informed of ASIO‘s attitude to the Congress by Garfield Barwick, the Attorney General. 107 ‗Clergymen seek total disarmament‘, Guardian, 19 November 1959, p. 4. See also A. M. Dickie, Australian and New Zealand Congress for International Co-Operation & Disarmament, Coburg, Challenge Press, 1959, p. 13. Gough had been informed of ASIO‘s attitude to the Congress by Garfield Barwick, the Attorney General. 108 Eric Butler founded and was later Director of the League of Rights, an admirer of C. H. Douglas, a member of Anglican Synod in Melbourne and had known connections to Spry, head of ASIO. 177

178

John Shelby Spong and his approach to the Biblical Narratives

Gordon Lilley University of New England

The Episcopalian bishop John Shelby Spong has been one of the most prolific and controversial Christian writers of recent years. His stated aim for most of his work is to „de-literalise‟, or „de-mythologise‟, the Scriptures, particularly the New Testament. With that in mind, his writings have not been directed at the academic community, but at those whom he calls „the church alumni‟, „believers in exile‟, or „the average pew-sitters‟. However, his methods in pursuing his aim are open to criticism. Spong confines his examinations to the four , Acts, and Paul‟s letters; any references to the Hebrew Bible – the Old Testament – are generally as background to the New Testament texts. As a self-declared „Hebrewphile‟, he firmly believes that the Christian narratives and traditions are based solely on the Jewish traditions and Scriptures. He says that he is „not convinced‟ that there was any influence from any other culture in the development of the Christian tradition in the first century CE. However, that view is open to question, as Spong appears to ignore the known history of the eastern Mediterranean region in order to build his case. John Spong‟s writing style is decidedly non-academic, probably with a view to making his work more accessible to his intended lay audience. However, it may be argued that this intention has led him into being superficial, didactic, and dogmatic. When subjected to objective critical reading from the point of view of an informed lay person, Spong‟s writings can be shown to contain numerous errors, tenuous semantic arguments, and what appear to be deliberate distortions of the biblical texts in order to make a case. However, despite his shortcomings, John Shelby Spong could be seen as having brought biblical criticism out of the academic cloisters and into the public arena, thereby encouraging his „average pew- sitters‟ to examine their faith and its origins.

John Shelby Spong has been one of the most prolific and controversial Christian writers of the late twentieth-early twenty-first centuries. His stated aim for most of his work is to 'de-literalise', or 'de-mythologise', the Scriptures, particularly the New Testament. With that in mind, his writings have not been directed at theologians or the academic community, but at those whom he calls 'the church alumni', 'believers in exile', or 'the average pew-sitters'. However, his methods in pursuing his aim are open to criticism. Given Spong's intended readership, I thought it only reasonable that his work should be examined from the point of view of an 'informed layperson' rather than that of a biblical scholar or theologian. The questions are, just how credible are Spong's views and how careful is he in the presentation of those views? The mere fact that he writes for the laity does not absolve him from the need to observe a high standard of academic rigour in his work. In fact, it could be argued that the need for such rigour is greater when writing for the average pew-sitters, or the un-churched, who are more likely to take his words at face value rather than take the time to

179 follow up his biblical references or to analyse his speculations. After all, he was a bishop in the Anglican Communion, so ought to know what he is talking about. But does he? For those who are not familiar with John Shelby Spong, a short résumé of his background is in order. This is drawn from several of his books, quite apart from his biographical Here I Stand.1 John Spong was born in June 1931 in North Carolina, one of the old 'slave states' and part of the American 'Bible Belt', where the Bible was, and often still is, seen as being the literal Word of God, inerrant, infallible, and unchanging. He was ordained in 1955, and served in various parishes in North Carolina and Virginia until becoming Bishop of Newark, New Jersey, in June 1976, where he stayed until his retirement in January 2000. As he lived and worked in the Southern states for some 45 years, it is difficult to sustain the criticism that he 'does not understand the evangelical point of view'. His first wife, Joan, died in 1988 after a long struggle with mental illness and cancer – that experience had a great effect on Spong's views on traditional Christian religious beliefs, such as the power of prayer. He later remarried to Christine, who also acts as his personal assistant. Spong's life, both in his youth and as a clergyman, led him into involvement with various sections of the community whom he saw as being marginalised, such as women, the African-American population, and gay and lesbian people, both in and out of the church. He first came to the notice of the wider Christian community in America in 1974, with the publishing of This Hebrew Lord and as a consequence engaging in a series of public forums with a senior Reformed Jewish Rabbi, Dr Jack Daniel Spiro, who became a lifelong friend. However, he already had been deeply involved in controversial anti-racist activities, particularly at the time of the civil rights movement in the 1960s. Later, he openly supported the 'irregular' ordaining of the first women priests in the Protestant Episcopal Church in 1974, and created trouble again in 1989 by ordaining a highly qualified but openly gay man as priest. Both those events created a storm, not merely in America but also in the wider Anglican Communion, with evangelicals calling for him to be disciplined. He has also been involved in a long-running battle with various American evangelical preachers, such as the late Jerry Falwell, over his religious views and associated matters such as racism and homosexuality. Spong had established himself as a public speaker – often controversial - before he became an author. However, it is his writings that have given Spong his fame – or notoriety, depending on your point of view. He has written some twenty books and numerous articles, on a wide variety of topics ranging from social issues such as racism and human sexuality to religious topics such as Jewish-Christian relations and various examinations of aspects of the Christian church and its beliefs and traditions. It is the latter topic which has raised the most ire among those whom he refers to as 'fundamentalists', but who probably could be termed more correctly as 'evangelical literalists'. It is worth noting at this point that Spong has received violent criticism, abuse, physical attack and a number of death

1 John Shelby Spong, Here I Stand: My Struggle for a Christianity of Integrity, Love, and Equality, San Francisco, Harper San Francisco, 2000 180 threats. He says that these have come generally from 'God-fearing, Bible- quoting' Christian conservatives, mainly from the American 'Deep South', but which do include a bomb threat in Brisbane.2 While he was serving as rector of a parish in North Carolina, he became a target for demonstrations by the Ku Klux Klan because of his support for the local coloured population. However, he also has a considerable number of supporters, both inside and outside the Christian community. When reading Spong's work, it may be noticed that his 'other agenda' – particularly the Church's treatment of women - can appear to intrude, or to colour his views on many topics. As a example, this can be seen in his Born of a Woman (1992), in which, apart from passing remarks, he devotes a chapter ('The Cost of the Virgin Myth') to what he sees as a long-term marginalisation of women by the Christian Church. John Spong is a self-declared 'Hebrewphile'. In the period 1965-69, he began conducting a bible study class in his parish in Lynchburg, Virginia – this was also the beginning of the media interest in his views. He says that in those classes he 'almost never roamed out of the Hebrew scriptures', he became a 'Hebrewphile', and admits to never being quite able to address the Gospel story of Jesus in those classes.3 He is convinced, almost to the point of obsession, that the Christian tradition and narratives are derived solely from the Jewish and Hebrew tradition and scriptures. He says that he is 'not convinced' that there was any influence from any other culture in the development of the Christian tradition in the first century CE.4 Here he relies for support largely on the work of Michael Goulder, an English religious academic, former Anglican priest and later self-declared 'non- aggressive' atheist. This leads him to reject any suggestion of influences from other cultures or religious traditions and oral narratives that existed in the Eastern Mediterranean region, either contemporaneously with Early Christianity or in the pre-Christian ages. That is arguably a shaky hypothesis, given the historical record of both peaceful and military interaction that took place in the area in the centuries before the beginning of the Christian era. However, it is on that conviction that Spong bases his views on removing what he sees as the mythology and other accretions that have attached to the probable original events that gave rise to Earliest Christianity. Spong is ignoring a significant amount of the region's history by restricting himself to the Hebrew/Jewish tradition. Quite apart from any religious traditions from ancient Mesopotamia, the historical and archaeological records demonstrate that the region extending roughly from the Red Sea north to modern Lebanon had been an historical battle ground for the Egyptians and nations to the north such as the Hittites; at several times it had been a province of Egypt. Later, it was under subjugation by the Assyrians and the Babylonians, both of whom also carried out a campaign of 'ethnic cleansing' and re-population during the seventh and sixth centuries BCE. That history could be seen as casting doubt on the

2 John Spong Liberating the Gospels: Reading the Bible with Jewish Eyes, San Francisco, Harper San Francisco, 1998, xvi. 3 John Spong This Hebrew Lord, a Bishop‟s Search for the Authentic Jesus, San Francisco, Harper San Francisco 1993, pp. 11-12, 31. 4 John Spong, Jesus for the Non-Religious, Sydney, HarperCollins, 2007. 181

Jewish tradition of racial and religious purity and exclusivity. Then the region was occupied by the Persians for some 200 years, c. 539-332 BCE, followed by the Greeks for about a further 200 years, 332-c.145 BCE, during which time it became largely Hellenised. The Romans came in 63 BCE, but did not have a significant further cultural influence. And throughout all those times the area had been crossed by trade-routes from the north, south and east, bringing not only goods but also, arguably, cultural and religious ideas and influences. In the period around 250 BCE., the Mauryan Emperor Ashoka in India (f. 304-232, r. 273-232 BCE) had envoys in every major centre around the Eastern Mediterranean; part of the duties of those envoys was to spread the teachings of Buddhism. The Mauryan Empire itself extended west into and Bactria – modern Turkmenistan - so was not far away. Also, Zoroastrianism was a strong faith tradition in Persia, just off to the east; it is thought to have influenced the development of Jewish traditions and had some concepts that are very similar to those of Christianity.5 In addition to the pre-Christian history of the region, there is another point which Spong largely ignores in his 'Hebrew source' theory: a major part of the development of the Christian tradition in the first century CE took place outside Judea and Galilee, in the gentile world of the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire. While Christianity may have been born in a Jewish world, it grew up in a generally Hellenised milieu. Having made that criticism of Spong's views on the origins of the Christian tradition, it is appropriate to note that in the front of the paperback version of Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy's Jesus and the Goddess6 is Spong's ringing endorsement of The Jesus Mysteries by the same authors.7 For those not familiar with that book, it is an apparently well-researched look at the possible relationship between the early Christian communities and the pagan – that is pre-Christian – mystery religions. Spong describes it as 'a provocative, exciting and challenging book...[which] will force a new debate in Christian circles...'. When asked about this apparent dichotomy in views (in September 2007) his reply was less than enlightening, along the lines of 'I'm just not convinced [of non-Hebrew origins]'. Before addressing the way in which Spong treats the biblical texts, we need to note his use – or over-use – of the term midrash. He says that he first became aware of the possibilities of the concept in 1991, when Revd Dr Jeffrey John, then Dean of Magdalen College, Oxford, told him that 'The birth narratives are quite obviously Haggadic midrash'.8 From that point he appears to have become enamoured of the term. Spong believes that there has been a loss to the understanding of the Gospel narratives caused by a lack of knowledge and understanding of the Hebrew/Jewish practice of midrash. However, he seems to misuse the term,

5 D.S. Noss, D.S. A History of the World‟s Religions, New Jersey, Prentice Hall, 1999, p. 421. 6 T. Freke and P. Gandy, Jesus and the Goddess: the Secret Teachings of the Original Christians, London, Thorsons, 2002. 7 T. Freke and P. Gandy, The Jesus Mysteries: Was the Original Jesus a Pagan God?, London, horsons, 1999. 8 Spong, Resurrection: Myth or Reality? A Bishop‟s Search for the Origins of Christianity, San Francisco, HarperSanFrancisco, 1994, pp. 13-15 182 in spite of quoting the definition of midrash from The Jewish Encyclopaedia.9 He appears to believe that the midrash tradition involved searching the older scriptures – in this case the Hebrew Bible – to find passages which justified the veneration of someone or something in later contemporary times and situations. This leads him to understand midrash as being a revised reading of early texts to suit a later situation, rather than being a commentary on a scriptural text. Spong actually admits that he has been taken to task, by both his publisher and his close friend Rabbi Jack Spiro, for his interpretation and use of the term.10 As a consequence of that criticism, he uses terms such as 'midrashic' and 'Christian midrash', as well as prolific use of just midrash.11 Apart from The Jewish Encyclopaedia, there are many references available which clearly define and explain midrash in the Jewish tradition, although only two examples will be quoted here. Jacob Neusner explains it as '' or an 'interpretation and explanation'.12 Hermann Strack and Gunter Stemberger make it clear that midrashim are 'interpretive writings' or commentaries on a biblical passage.13 They also make the comment:

Midrash-like texts have also been identified in the New Testament; the term 'midrash' has been used especially for the infancy gospels and for the story of Jesus' 'temptation'. To be sure, the classification of a text as midrash has become a fashionable trend, especially in New Testament scholarship; in this context the particular character of rabbinic midrash has not always been properly recognized as a point of departure.14 I suggest that what Spong calls 'midrash' should more properly be called pesher, which Neusner defines as 'An interpretation or explanation of a verse of scripture, in which a given statement, for example of a prophet, is identified with an event or personality in the present time.'15 However, it may be noted that the term 'Haggadic midrash', which is what Jeffery John used, refers generally to the practice of embroidering homiletic discourses with elaborative legends in order to make them easier to understand or to heighten the sense of drama and glory. Midrash halakah, on the other hand, is a commentary on Jewish religious law. However, irrespective of whether or not Spong is correct in his view of midrash, and the concept of 'Christian midrash', he does make the legitimate point that present-day readers, with a 'peculiarly Western mind- set', cannot hope to know properly what was in the minds of the early Christian writers. He also provides examples, some of which may be regarded as being somewhat tenuous, to show that many of the stories about Jesus appear to be a re-telling of various narratives from the Hebrew Bible. A brief overview of Spong's approach is in order at this point, before looking at his treatment of what is probably the core belief of the Christian

9 Spong, Resurrection, p.15. 10 Spong, Liberating the Gospels, p.xi. 11 Spong Born of a Woman, San Francisco, HarperSanFrancisco, 1992, p.19. 12 J.Neusner, What is Midrash, Philadelphia, Fortress Press, 1987. pp.:xi, 8, 108. 13 H.L. Strack and G. Stemberger, G (trans. Markus Bockmuel), 1992, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 1992, p. 255-262. 14 Strack and Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, p. 258 15 Neusner, What is Midrash?, p.109. 183 faith – the . For most of his writing career John Spong has been a Bishop in the Episcopal Church of America – part of the Anglican Communion. His stated aim in writing has been to 'de-literalise' or 'demythologise' the Christian Scriptures, to make them more accessible to 'the average pew-sitter' and 'the church alumni'; he is opposed to 'fundamentalists' who see the Bible as the literal and inerrant Word of God. Finally, he is a self-declared 'Hebrewphile', which leads him to attempt to read the Jesus narratives 'through Jewish eyes' and to dismiss any suggestion of non-Jewish origins for the Christian traditions. Those traits lead to some interesting speculation, and at times convoluted and tenuous reasoning, in Spong's writing. John Shelby Spong's major work on the Resurrection narratives and traditions is found in his Resurrection: Myth or Reality. A Bishop's Search for the Origins of Christianity (1994). There is mention of the subject, even some extensive treatment, to be found in other of his books such as Liberating the Gospels: Reading the Bible with Jewish Eyes (1994) and Jesus for the Non-Religious (2007). However, the major focus here will be on Resurrection. Spong rejects the concept of either the Virgin Birth or the Resurrection narratives being literally true historical accounts of the respective events. It may be noted that while he acknowledges that there are similar stories in other religious traditions, for example Buddhism, at the same time he rejects any suggestion that those stories may have influenced the development of the Christian tradition. Instead, he sees the Christian narratives originating solely within the synagogues, growing out of the Jewish tradition alone and built on the framework of the Hebrew Bible. He proposes that there were some factual events that made up the original Easter happening, suggesting that those events created a power which affected those who experienced it so that they re-created the story from their memory. However, that story became subsumed by a developing mythology, and floated through history, being refined and re-defined by new languages and concepts. It must be noted that Spong not only does not acknowledge other cultural influences in the development of the Christian story, but he also makes only brief passing reference to the effects of translation and re-translation as the stories passed around the widening world. It also may be noted here that Spong claims to have travelled widely in Asia, investigating the major faiths; however, when he refers to aspects of those faiths he displays only a superficial understanding of basic tenets, which leads him into making some very dubious comments. It is Part Two of Resurrection which begins to raise serious doubts about Spong's approach. The first five chapters examine, in turn, Paul then the four Gospel writers. There is little material in this part which cannot be found in other places. Spong does begin to introduce his conviction that the events which later developed into the Resurrection story took place in Galilee rather than Jerusalem. In his examination of John's account of Mary Magdalene's visit to the tomb, he revisits his speculation in Born of a Woman (1992) that Mary appears to be represented by John as Jesus' 'next- of-kin' - his widow. However, it is Spong's apparent misuse of biblical texts and his semantic arguments based on his reading of the Koine Greek texts which cause the greatest uneasiness about his methods.

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It must be recalled that Spong's intended readership is the laity - 'the average pew-sitters' and 'the church alumni'. It may be noted that in private conversation about such groups Spong used the term 'biblically literate'; he appears to expect that his readers will be familiar with the biblical texts and so will not feel the need to check his citations. It could be suggested, on the other hand, that casual readers who are not 'biblically literate' would not take the trouble to check his textual references. Either way, it is here that Spong appears to fall into the trap of being less than rigorous in his use of the biblical texts. It should also be noted that Spong uses only the Revised Standard Version of the Bible, so avoiding the need to explain terms or words in other versions which may not suit his purposes. In order to demonstrate Spong's apparent misrepresentation of the texts, three of the more blatant examples follow. All come from Part Four of Resurrection: Myth or Reality?. The first is dealing with the racial purity of the sons of Jacob. Spong says that in the time of Joshua the region of Galilee and Samaria had been assigned to the tribes of Zebulun, Naphtali and Asher. However, he suggests that each one of those figures had a question mark against his birth, and so they were not considered by the tribes of Judah to be racially pure. According to the story in Gen. 30:1-13, Naphtali and Asher were sons of Jacob from the slave women of his wives Leah and Rachel, and so, in Spong's view, were unarguably of mixed race. The case of Zebulun is another matter, in both the Genesis narrative and Spong's use of that account. According to Spong, '...Leah had conceived Zebulun when she lured Jacob away from his favourite wife, Rachel, for the night for the price of some mandrakes...'. However, even a superficial reading of Gen. 30:14-20 shows a quite different story. Firstly, it appears to have been a straightforward bargain between Rachel and Leah – 'Rachel said, 'Then he may lie with you tonight for your son's mandrakes'' (30:15), and when Jacob came home that evening, Leah said 'You must sleep with me, I have hired you with my son's mandrakes' (30:16) - no 'luring' of Jacob. Secondly, and more importantly, the son conceived that night was Issachar, Leah's fifth son (30:17-18); Zebulun was her sixth son, and the text (30:19- 20) makes no mention of either luring or bargaining leading up to his conception. So it appears that Spong has adjusted the record to suit his own purpose, in this case to demonstrate that the population of Galilee were regarded by the Judeans as being racially suspect and having 'a relatively weak Jewish identity'. The second example of Spong's misuse of the texts, taking a passage out of context to suit his own argument, is found in his comparison between the statement in the story of the wedding in Cana, 'This, the first of his signs, Jesus did in Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory; and his disciples believed in him' (Jn. 2:11), and the vignette in Jn. 20:8 which says, in a post-crucifixion context, 'Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed'. Spong sees this as inferring that it was that disciple (the 'beloved disciple') who was 'the first disciple to believe' after entering the empty tomb, thus contradicting 2:11. However, it can be argued that this is an incorrect reading of 20:8. Jn. 20:9 says 'for as yet they did not know the scripture, that he must rise from the dead'; reading verses 8 and 9 together, as they are written, suggests that what the disciple believed was Mary Magdalene's fear that someone had removed Jesus' body

185 from the tomb. If that is so, it negates Spong's argument and leaves intact the stories of both Cana and the tomb. A third instance is found in Spong's building his case for a connection between food and 'the opening of the eyes' to the resurrection. Turning to the epilogue to John's Gospel, Jn. 21, Spong says that the connection between food and the resurrection is quite clearly stated: Jesus invited the disciples to join him in breakfast on the lakeside; when they gathered, 'Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and so with the fish' (Jn. 21:13). However, Spong again appears to twist the bible text to suit his case: he says that it was after Jesus had given the bread that '...none of the disciples dared ask him 'Who are you?' They knew it was the Lord'. The implication is that again it was in the giving of the bread that recognition occurred – 'their eyes were opened'. However, the biblical text clearly says that recognition happened before the disciples came to the meal and Jesus handed round the bread and fish (Jn. 21:4-8, 12-13). Of course, it could be argued that it is not improbable that the disciples would have recognised the risen Jesus at sight, as according to the earlier narrative he had previously appeared among them at least twice in Jerusalem (Jn.20:19- 29). There are also many instances in which Spong introduces tenuous semantic arguments based on the possible implications of words in the English texts. However, it will be recalled that Spong uses only the RSV for his references; his arguments are often undone by referring to other versions of the Bible. At times he makes great play on the possible implications of similar English words, for example 'Judas – Jew– Judah – Judea', ignoring the point that these are purely English renditions of various Hebrew and Greek words. He seems to forget that the Bible was not written in the English of the RSV. He also represents himself as a Greek scholar, and so introduces various arguments based on his interpretation of the Koine text; however, it is difficult to avoid the impression that those arguments are introduced merely in order to give a lay reader an impression of deep scholarship. An example of Spong's use of Koine comes from a lengthy discussion about Paul's claims to having 'seen the Lord', comparing them with various other theophanies in both the Old and New Testaments. The discussion begins with a passage from Gal. 1:15-16: 'He … was pleased to reveal his Son to me …' and continues with comparisons to theophanies to Abraham and Moses. Spong claims that the Greek word 'ōphthē' is used in both the letter to the Galatians and in the Septuagint versions of Gen. 12:7, Ex. 3:2 and Ex. 6:2, as well as in other New Testament texts, so giving some sort of continuity in thought between the different concepts. However, the word actually used in the Galatians passage (1:16), in both modern and ancient texts, is 'apokalypsai opposed to 'appear' in the other passages. It may be noted that the Greek in Gal 1:16, in both modern and ancient texts, says 'apokalypsai ton huion autou en emoi'. Although the English text in the NRSV and RSV translates that as '...to reveal his Son to me...', the note to 'to' says 'Greek 'in''; the KJV and the NIV say 'in', as does the Greek Interlinear New Testament. Arguably, 'reveal… to me' is a quite different concept from 'reveal…in me'.

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Some of Spong's remarks about the use of words appear to be quite trivial. As an example, he appears to find significance in the point that Matthew (28:9) has Jesus use the same greeting to the women at the tomb (Hello', or 'Hail'; Spong does not quote the Greek xai/rete, as he has Judas use to Jesus (xai~re) when betraying him (Mt. 26:49). However, it is difficult to understand this, as 'hello' or 'hail' is a standard kind of greeting; neither does Spong mention that xai=re was also used by the soldiers when they ridiculed Jesus (Mt. 27:29). In Part Five of Resurrection – the final section of the book –Spong introduces his speculations about 'Reconstructing the Easter Moment'. Again, his work is marred by some dubious treatment of the biblical texts, particularly in his examination of the events in the early part of the Holy Week narratives when he blatantly changes the timings of events during the movements of the 'Jesus group' between Bethany and Jerusalem. Overall, these final chapters could be seen as a rejection of the accepted Christian traditions that begin with and extend through to Pentecost. Effectively, what John Spong proposes is a rewriting of the Easter story. Spong is convinced, to the point of both ignoring and misquoting the biblical texts, that as Jesus' disciples all 'forsook him and fled', none of his followers witnessed the crucifixion. Jesus' body was not placed in a tomb by his followers, but was treated by the authorities as an executed criminal and so tossed into an unmarked pit. Hence, there was no tomb, no burial by Joseph of Arimathea – and Nicodemus according to John – no women watching the burial, and so no 'third day' visit to the tomb by the women. He is also convinced that the 'resurrection event' took place in Galilee. Leaning heavily on (but often misrepresenting) Charles W.F. Smith's 1960 paper No Time for Figs, Spong suggests that the Christian Palm Sunday liturgies, the 'real story' of the resurrection events, and even the Christian Pentecost, are all based on the [northern hemisphere] Jewish autumn festival Sukkoth (Tabernacles or Booths). It may be noted that Spong's speculations go far beyond Smith's paper, which only deals with a possible link between Sukkoth and Palm Sunday. Briefly, Spong's reconstruction of the Easter events is that at the time of Jesus' arrest, trial and execution, the disciples 'forsook him and fled' (Mt. 26:56), 'every man to his own home' (Jn. 16:32). For many, particularly the 'core group' of Simon Peter et al, 'home' would be Galilee, where they returned to their occupation as fishermen. Over the next few weeks or months, Peter thought about their experiences as followers of Jesus for the last one, two or three years, even seeing apparitions in the mist rising over the lake (hence the 'walking on the water' story, which in the Gospels is told in a pre-crucifixion context) . Finally he came to the realisation that Jesus was still alive in spirit; having convinced his companions, he suggested that they all go to Jerusalem to observe Sukkoth (about late September) and to pass on their beliefs to the group who remained in Jerusalem. As the proto- Christian community and tradition developed over the decades, the liturgies of Sukkoth were transferred to the time of Pesach or Passover, the accepted time of Jesus' crucifixion. As further evidence for his case on the primacy of Sukkoth in the development of the Christian tradition, Spong casts his 'Tabernacles' net even wider. First, he looks at the 'strange and difficult-to-interpret story of

187 the transfiguration', suggesting that there are many clues, such as the proposed building of 'booths', which point to a Tabernacles origin for the story. His 'final clue' to validate his reconstruction of the Easter story is Luke's story of Pentecost; Spong gives no reference, but the story is found in Acts 2. He believes that this story also had 'major Tabernacles themes', but that Luke, not being completely familiar with the Jewish religious calendar, had set it in the context of Shavaut [sic], which is 'a different Jewish festival from Passover'; he says that the combination of those three festivals provides his 'final clue'. Smith's arguments in No Time for Figs appear logical and credible; however, Spong's extension of those arguments leads to speculations that are at times convoluted, dubious, and difficult to follow. While Spong does say that this is his 'reconstruction', it is presented in such a way as to leave a non-critical reader – 'the average pew-sitter' – with an impression of 'forget the traditional stories, this is what actually happened'. As a general criticism of Spong's writings, he can often give the impression that the four Gospel writers were contemporaries, even though he does say, in various contexts, that they were not. However, by the use of terms such as 'Luke contradicts Mark', and 'in this debate', he could give a casual reader an image of the four sitting around a table arguing their views, or even writing to one another. In fact, most of Spong's instances of 'contradiction' or 'incompatibility' between the Gospels are what could reasonably be expected from four separate authors, with different cultural backgrounds and with different personal agendas, writing at different times and for different reader communities. It could also be suggested that Spong is inconsistent in his approach to the Gospel narratives, at times appearing to accept part of a story as factual in order to attack the literal historicity of another part. He leaves an impression of being selective, and inconsistent, in his choice of biblical texts in order to build his case, rather than being even-handed in his approach. John Spong's writing style is decidedly populist, probably with a view to making his work more accessible to his intended lay audience. However, it may be argued that this intention has led him into being superficial, didactic, and dogmatic. When subjected to objective critical reading from the point of view of an informed layperson, Spong's writings can be shown to contain numerous errors, tenuous semantic arguments, and what appear to be deliberate distortions of the biblical texts in order to make a case, all of which gravely undermine his credibility for the critical reader. He does not compare well with other writers in the same genre, such as Bart Ehrman, Karen Armstrong, Elaine Pagels or even Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy. It is interesting to compare Spong's books written after his retirement in January 2000 with those written while he was still a serving member of the clergy. His later style may be seen as being far clearer and less convoluted, although some of his semantic arguments and use of the biblical texts are still open to question. It is easy to get the impression that previously he was writing 'within the walls of the church', but now no longer feels restricted by his calling. Incidentally, it is probable that the 'a Bishop...' subtitles too many of his books are more the fault of the publishers rather than Spong himself.

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After reading most of John Shelby Spong's books on the development of the Christian mythology, there are two questions which come to mind. First, to what extent are his writings a catharsis for his personal rejection of the traditional narratives contained in the New Testament, particularly the four Gospels? Is he really writing for 'the church alumni' and his 'average pewsitters', or is he trying to exorcise his own demons? The second question is, to what extent is Spong a creation of his 'fundamentalist' opponents and the media? If his opponents had just ignored him (as he says the late Jerry Falwell tried to do), would the media have become interested in his views, and would 'the Spong phenomenon' have developed? Despite his shortcomings, John Shelby Spong could be seen as having brought biblical criticism out of the academic cloisters and into the public arena, thereby encouraging his 'average pew-sitters' to examine their faith and its origins. Yet he appears to have felt the need to be less than rigorous in his scholarship in attempting to achieve his stated aim of making the Christian tradition more accessible to the laity.

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Church House: Administrative Hub of the Brisbane Diocese 1909-1980

John Mackenzie-Smith Independent Scholar Designed in the prevailing Arts and Crafts style by Diocesan Architect Robin Smith Dods, Church House was opened without ceremony - almost stealth - in 1909 when its stop-gap predecessor, Adelaide House, was needed for the residence of the sub- dean of St John‟s Cathedral which was consecrated in the following year. The pragmatic, steep-roofed building was the obverse of the elaborate, gothic edifice which arose from earlier collaboration between Bishop William Webber and the cathedral‟s architect Frank Pearson, and the former‟s death provided the circumstances which permitted that change. Although the steep pitch of the roof caused dissatisfaction among some members of Chapter, Dods‟ generally design prevailed and the fabric of the building remained intact, apart from temporary partitioning, throughout its existence as the diocesan registry office. In addition to this regional administrative function, Church House also was the location of the Book Depot and provided office space for the diocesan newspaper, The Church Chronicle, and its variants. The administrative arrangements within the pro- cathedral precinct and subsequently in Adelaide House, following the decision to erect the cathedral in Ann Street, will be outlined. In particular, the interesting history of the latter edifice, Queensland‟s first Government House, will be delineated. In addition to describing the architectural features, the internal layout of the building, pen pictures will be provided of the important personnel who laboured within ― diocesan registrars bookshop managers and some editors of the Chronicle. When administrative functions were relocated to St Martin‟s House because the limitations of Church House to meet the requirements of a late twentieth century requirements, Dods‟ design concept remained unfulfilled ― the funds allocated to ensure the construction of the proposed Synod Hall extension were redirected to cathedral completion purposes.

A building named Church House stands in the shadow of Westminster Abbey and a Church House stands next to St John's Cathedral in far-off, antipodean Brisbane. Both buildings were conceived in 1887 as celebrations to the Golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria. Since that time, Church House, eventually completed in 1940, has housed the administration machinery of the world-wide Anglican Communion. Typically, London's church precinct featured the traditional juxtaposition of the key ecclesiastical buildings (an administration and assembly complex with the grand centre of worship). Taking the lead of the mother church, that pattern was replicated within the plans drawn up for Brisbane's future basilica site. Also in common with the overseas Anglican headquarters, Brisbane's control centre was to be known as Church House. That title was also occasionally bestowed on the interim structures performing the registry functions from the late nineteenth century until the final form emerged in Ann Street in 1909. As he looked to England for his cultural standards in the face of perceived colonial crudity, William Thornhill Webber, Brisbane's third bishop (1885-1903), planned his own Church House within the precinct of the proposed mighty cathedral that he envisaged. As Rev. J Tomlin, second

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Principal of St Francis College (Nundah) sniffily pointed out in 1910, the prescient Webber envisaged an impressive, tasteful church, diametrically opposed to those 'stuffy little wooden and stone churches with rough altars and cheap fonts' which advertised to one and all that 'in Queensland we had largely lost the sense of awe and dignity that surround the great Christian temples of Europe'.1 Working closely with eminent English neo-gothic architect John Loughborough Pearson, Webber visualised an attractive administration building existing in perfect architectural harmony with the proposed replica of a thirteenth-century French cathedral. However, had he lived long enough, Webber would have been profoundly disappointed with the final product. Brisbane's Church House, designed by the diocesan architect Robin Dods (fig.1), was opened somewhat unsung, though widely appreciated, on an unrecorded day sometime in November 1909 – eleven months before the first stage of St John's Cathedral was completed.2 This vaguely reported event in the Church Chronicle provided a stark contrast to the more detailed review accorded to the corresponding ceremony at the adjacent St John's Institute and School [now Webber House] that was designed by Aberdonian John Smith Murdoch.3 While purpose-built Church House lacked even a foundation stone, that of the school, the first block of buildings erected on the present cathedral site, was laid with ceremony by Sir Hugh Nelson, Lieutenant-Governor of Queensland precisely on 19 October 1904.4 Next door, without fanfare or fuss, The Right Reverend St Clair Donaldson, Brisbane's fourth bishop, performed a brief dedication ceremony at the completed Church House five years later― the exact date in November being lost in time. The Church Chronicle was completely frank about the comparative lack of ostentation and fuss that accompanied occupation of the long- awaited diocesan headquarters. Those who were to work within were single- mindedly concerned with settling into their new red-brick premises with the Ann Street frontage as quickly as possible after toiling for the previous seven years in makeshift quarters in neighbouring Adelaide House ― the first and penultimate building to carry the name of Church House in the new cathedral precinct. In fact, those who were to work at the new Diocesan headquarters had tolerated several shifts in workplace between 1899 and 1909 and understandably craved permanence. Indeed, there had been two moves in and around the doomed pro-cathedral grounds in the William and George Streets precinct before the transfer to Adelaide House in 1901, a decaying mid-nineteenth century mansion that had served briefly as Queensland's first Government House from the end of 1859 to mid 1862.5 Hence, the desire to get down to business as rapidly as possible overrode any consideration of a superfluous ceremony. Somewhat wryly, the

1 Church Chronicle, 7 November 1910, p. 3. 2 Church Chronicle, December 1909, p. 373. 3 Donald Watson and Judith Mackay, Queensland Architects of the 19th Century, Brisbane, Queensland Museum, 1994, pp. 127-8. 4 Church Chronicle, November 1904, p. 54. 5 John Mackenzie-Smith, A Doctor, A Governor & A Dozen Deans: The Residents of Adelaide House, Brisbane 1855-2005, Brisbane, The Corporation of the Lesser Chapter of the Cathedral Church of Brisbane, 2007, pp. 19-20. 192

Chronicle revealed the basis for the near blasé attitude which the Church seemed to adopt:

So swiftly and unostentatiously was the move effected that the uninitiated might have suspected the Diocese of being behind in the rent. But this was not the case. The fact is the Church can no longer get excited about a change of this kind, because it has happened so often before, this last change being the fourth which the present officials remember.6

Within two years of his arrival in Brisbane 1885, the farsighted Bishop Webber embarked upon a passionate, life-sapping mission to provide the city with a distinctive cathedral. It was intended to be a sacred 'offering to Almighty God' and a suitable memorial to the reign Queen Victoria.7 Satisfied with only the best and determined to improve Brisbane's architectural wasteland, Webber actively collaborated with Pearson, the architect of Truro Cathedral and Webber's own parish church at Red Lion Square in London. Taking the first step that would hopefully lead to an architectural revolution in Brisbane, Webber commissioned his friend to design a mighty cathedral on the site bounded by George, William and Elizabeth Streets (now Queen's Park). Integral to Webber's plan was his intention to replace the inadequate Diocesan Office cum parish hall and Sunday School in George Street with a more commodious building – another Church House. Further, it was planned that this building would also serve as a temporary church during the construction of the proposed cathedral on that site.8 On 14 December 1897 Lord Lamington, Governor of Queensland, formally opened the new premises known as the Church Institute and Synod Hall on the corner of Elizabeth and George Streets. It was fully expected that the multi-purpose building, designed by Pearson's disciple, John Buckeridge, would become the permanent headquarters of the Diocese 'The central hall was used for the Sunday School and also for Synod meetings, diocesan functions, socials and other associated events. The section at the corner of George and Elizabeth Streets was used mainly as clubs for young men; and the eastern section was used for diocesan offices and by the Church of England Book Depot'.9 (Following John Pearson's death in this year, his son Frank Pearson carried on his work as cathedral architect, commencing this involvement in the dying days of the William Street sector). That complex which cohered admirably with the existing church building cost a substantial £4000; it had but a short life in its intended role and never functioned as the interim church, as the state government's building programme steadily encroached. Following the decision of the Minister of Works in 1899 to erect the new Lands Office building on adjacent land, thereby compromising the quality of life on the cathedral site, Chapter offered to sell the new building to the government. Further dialogue

6 Church Chronicle, December 1909, p. 373. 7 Church Chronicle, 7 November 1910, p. 3. 8 Brit Andresen. ‗The Cathedral Precinct: Ideal and Contingency‘, University of Queensland, 1992, p.54. 9 Church Chronicle, January 1962, p. 4. 193 between Webber and Lands Office appointees resulted in the sale and a generous concession, which enabled the pro-cathedral to continue as a house of worship until 1904. By that time, the stop-gap St Luke's Church would be erected nearby in Elizabeth Street.10 Accordingly, in 1899 John Buckeridge was given the task of finding another site for the proposed cathedral and the ancillary buildings which would include a Church Institute, Diocesan Offices and a Synod Hall. After considering six locations, Buckeridge chose the present Ann Street site, the first property purchased being that belonging to the Queensland National Bank on which Adelaide House was located. As a priority, he further urged Chapter to purchase from Walter Horatio Wilson, a politician, the adjacent allotment bounded by Clark Lane which he considered to be an admirable site for the proposed Church Schools and Institute building. After lengthy negotiations, this land was sold to Chapter in 1900 at top price. That purchase brought the area of cathedral-owned land bounded by Ann Street and Adelaide Streets to approximately two and a half acres.11 From the beginning of 1901, the Diocesan registry, the Book Depot and the Church Institute took over Adelaide House, the bookshop occupying three rooms on the ground floor with the Adelaide Street frontage. As well as the diocesan registrar and his staff, the personnel who produced monthly editions of the Church Chronicle were also accommodated in the Offices. For the period that it was used for the above purposes, Adelaide House was referred to the Diocesan Offices or, on occasion, Church House.12 Following his final trip to England, the stressful experience which would contribute towards his premature demise, Webber brought back in 1903 Frank Pearson's 'complete plans and specifications for the erection of the Synod Hall and the Diocesan Offices'. In harmony with the planned cathedral, the proposed building was designed as a spire-topped and buttress-supported gothic building; in common with the cathedral the structures were clad in porphyry. In addition, Pearson outlined a new concept for a new Deanery and Minor Canons' residences― an innovation that would require the demolition of Adelaide House.13 Whereas Pearson designated an Ann Street frontage for the intended offices, it was envisaged that Synod Hall would be located one level higher to the rear of the administration centre and linked to it by a courtyard'.14 When Webber, the driving force behind the concept of a completely gothic cathedral precinct, was on his death bed, Chapter took a step back from the concept of erecting the elaborate and expensive ancillary buildings which were detailed by Pearson. Webber's demise was followed by a period of articulating new priorities. In addition, the problem of amassing extra stone in sufficient quantities in addition to the requirements of the cathedral was probably a further impediment to erecting the required auxiliary

10 Church Chronicle, January 1962; Chapter Minutes, 24 December 1900, p. 133; Andress, ―The Cathedral Precinct‖, p. 55. 11 Ken Addison, ‗The Precinct of St John‘s‘, 1999, unpaginated. 12 Mackenzie-Smith, The residents of Adelaide House, p. 11. 13 Frank Pearson. Plans of Brisbane Cathedral Diocesan Offices, Plan of Synod Hall, 1903. Michael Kennedy, Architect, Brisbane. 14 Brit Andresen. ‗The Cathedral of St John the Evangelist, Brisbane: A Report on the Cathedral Chapter of the Significance of the Cathedral Precinct, 1985‘, Brisbane, 1985, p. 12. 194 buildings in the gothic style. Pearson's 1903 concept of the Diocesan Offices, Book Depot and the Synod Hall, featuring a lofty spire, flying buttresses, elaborate stair turrets, an arcade and a courtyard flanked on all sides by verandahs appeared too be too grand and too expensive for buildings subordinate to the cathedral.15 Furthermore the resignation of the by then insolvent John Buckeridge as diocesan architect about that time added to the state of architectural turmoil. The plans prepared by the Cathedral Architect for the Diocesan Offices and Synod Hall were examined by the Chapter on 23 May 1903. In the face of straitened financial circumstances and the substantial costs involved, Chapter placed Church House and its adjacent hall 'on hold' until further funds became available and directed its priority to buildings which 'were deemed absolutely necessary'.16 In July of that year, Archdeacon AE David announced:

The Chapter … propose to commence certain buildings without delay, and they have determined that the erection of the new Schools and Institute on the Ann-street site [designed by John Smith Murdoch], together with that of a Mission Church in the neighbourhood of the present [Pro-] Cathedral, should be proceeded with immediately, both in order to secure the continuity of the educational work now being carried out at St John's, and also to provide temporary accommodation for the Cathedral congregation. But whilst the commencement of these buildings will be undertaken at once, it has been thought best to postpone for a time the erection of the Synod Hall and Diocesan Offices as being of less imperious necessity'.17

Accordingly, John Smith Murdoch, a leading exponent of the Arts and Crafts architectural style took six months leave of absence without pay from the Works Department from June 1903 to design and supervise the erection of St John's Day School and St Luke's Mission Hall for Brisbane's Church of England community.18 In relation to the former building, Murdoch recommended that Robin Smith Dods 'supervise [its] erection … if he [Murdoch] was unable to do so'.19 It was indeed a fillip that the Diocese benefited for a short period from the services of these two distinguished architects, the temporary nature of Murdoch's employment arising from Chapter's selection of Dods ahead of him as Diocesan Architect in place of Sydney-bound Buckeridge.20 It was in that capacity that Dods, a foremost exponent of the Arts and Crafts style, supervised the construction St John's Institute and School, the building being completed in August 1905 when Murdoch's extended leave had expired. As the new diocesan architect, Dods was further required to prepare plans to re-house Diocesan Offices and specify the alterations required to

15 Pearson, Plans, 1903. 16 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 22 May 1903, p. 178. 17 Synod address, Church Chronicle, July 1903, p. 197; Cathedral Chapter report 1904, p. 109. 18 Watson and Mackay. Queensland Architects, p. 128. 19 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 28 June 1903. 20 Diocesan Council minutes, 14 April 1903, p. 102. 195 provide a suitable residence for the cathedral's first sub-dean at Adelaide House. Those plans, the drawings for the office block, were examined at the meeting of the Chapter on 24 July 1906. No action was apparently taken and the matter was left in abeyance until 1908 when the need to house the incoming sub-dean and a replacement for the Diocesan offices and Book Depot became a matter of urgency. Preparations started at the end of the 1908 to ensure that the new building, to accommodate the new Church House and Book Depot, would be completed during the following year, and all would be in readiness for the Sub-Dean to occupy the newly converted Diocesan Offices in Adelaide House as a residence for his family. Arising from the Chapter meeting on 22 December 1908, Robin Dods was requested to prepare plans to design the former and refurbish the latter.21

Styles and influences With its origins in the Victorian Gothic revival school founded and promoted by Augustus Pugin (1812-52), the Arts and Crafts movement developed in the second half of the 19th century in opposition to industrialization and 'soulless' mass-production of goods by machine as promoted by London's Great Exhibition of 1851 (in which Pugin had nonetheless participated). Thus Arts and Crafts buildings were unpretentious and informal, integrating art into everyday life through the medium of craftsmanship.22 John Ruskin, foremost proponent of Arts and Crafts, stated that human needs should dictate how buildings were designed and decreed that craftsmen should be free to adapt and change rather than follow a rigid style.23 In common with Pugin, Philip Webb, architect of the house of William Morris (founder of the Arts and Crafts School), believed that 'ornamentation of a building should only be expressed as essential parts of the construction and not as a separate additional identity'. He also favoured a style of masonry built from local, red brick and promoted a preference for simple forms and unadorned designs.24 Plainly evident in the designs of Murdoch and Dods, the dominant features of Queensland's ecclesiastical Arts and Crafts buildings include: use of stone for basework and trim; conspicuous, steep pitched roofs; prominent eaves and gables; gable infill; eaves bracket; oriel windows; balcony fronts and slate or tiled roofs.25 It was no coincidence that, with Bishop Donaldson at the helm, a parsimonious Chapter in the driver's seat and John Smith Murdoch and Robin Smith Dods embraced as their preferred architects, that the designs of the relatively cheap, recycled St John's School (1905) and the simpler Church House (1909) were viewed by the ecclesiastical authorities as prime exemplars of the Arts and Crafts style. Over a decade later, that approach was also adopted by architect Lange Powell to the design of St Martin's

21 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 22 December 1908, p. 278. 22 Sydney architectural images-Federation Arts and Crafts, http://www.sydneyarchitecture.com. Harriet Edquist. Pioneers of Modernism: The Arts and Crafts movement in Australia, Melbourne, Meigunyah Press, 2008, p. viii. 23 ‗Pugin and the Gothic revival‘, http://www.artscrafts.org.uk/roots/pugin.html 24 ‗How does the Red House by Philip Webb embody the Arts and Crafts movement‘, http://www.bookrags.com/essay-2005/2/15/12525/7253 25 Richard Apperly et al. A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture: Styles and Terms from 1788 to the Present, Pymble: Angus & Robertson, 1994, p.p. 140-44; Edquist, Pioneers of Modernism, p. xiii. 196

Hospital (1922) which was said to bear some resemblance to the Red House, Bexleyheath, London – the home of Arts and Craft leader William Morris.26 As Powell intended, he not only created a result in sympathy with the nearby ancillary buildings, but especially ensured that it was in coherence with the cathedral. Ultimately, he made sure that both buildings formed 'a harmonious whole'.27

Construction and uses Dods laid the required documents, the ground plans and elevations, on the table at the meeting of the Cathedral Chapter within a month – January 1909. Satisfied with those documents, the Chapter called upon him as Diocesan Architect to seek for tenders for both projects.28 By early March 1909, the treasurer of the Building Committee revealed that tenders had been sought. Accordingly, the final elevations, ground plans and specifications, together with ten tenders, were finally tabled at the Chapter meeting on 23 March 1909. W. Beavis, who quoted £655 to complete the conversion of the present Church House into the Deanery within three months and £3134 to build the Diocesan Offices in seven months, provided the lowest tender.29 However it was not all plain sailing for Dods whose plans for the new Church House were challenged at the very last minute. At the above meeting, FWS Cumbrae-Stewart threw a spanner in the works by moving that the resolution accepting the plans and tenders be withdrawn. That action would allow the meeting to discuss the plans further, especially to examine dissatisfaction with the high pitch of the roof - a typical Arts and Crafts feature. (it is possible that problems had been encountered with the precipitous roofs of the adjacent school). Finally it was resolved that 'subject to the Archbishop being satisfied with any suggestions made by the Diocesan Architect as to the height of the roof of the Diocesan Offices being pitched lower, the Diocesan Architect be instructed to accept W Beavis's tender for the alterations and for the erection'. Hence, this cleared the way for yet another motion: subject to the solicitors being satisfied with the terms of the contract, the treasurer be authorised to affix the seal of the 'Lesser Chapter Church'.30 Subsequently, Donaldson decided that the pitch of the roof, its most distinctive feature, should remain unaltered. Thus the Chapter Clerk was able to report at the meeting on 18 May 1909 that the agreement with Mr Beavis and Dods' plans and specifications had been irrevocably approved by the Chapter's solicitors.31 As work had officially begun on 19 April, the builder then had exactly eight months left in the year to provide the cathedral precinct with a new Church House and a refurbished Sub- Deanery.32

26 Val Donovan, St Martin‟s Hospital: A History, Brisbane, Boolarong, 1995, p. 22. 27 Email to author from Michael Kennedy, Architect of St John‘s cathedral, 1 December 2009. 28 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 17 January 1909, p. 279. 29 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 23 March 1909, p. 282. 30 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 23 March 1909, pp. 182-283. 31 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 18 May 1909, p. 286. 32 Church Chronicle, May 1909, p. 209. 197

Reactions to the design Dods exhibited his plans to his British peers at the Royal Academy Exhibition at London in 1910.33 Referring to the drawings of Church House, The British Architect, the prestigious professional journal commented: 'It is seldom we are able to publish such eminently pleasing modern work. It would really seem that here at last someone is able to build up walls and roofs with some clear realization of the values of outlines and relations of solids and voids'.34 The drawings which were extolled overseas featured the finished product – a building of Church House incorporating the large Synod Hall (an L shape complex), stretching down to St John's School on the right (fig.2). Dods so designed the building that it could be constructed in two stages, starting with the administration centre and adding the hall when the requisite funds became available. As it stands today, half completed (fig.3), lone Stage One severely compromises Dods' original concept of Church House, leaving in elegant isolation a red-brick, steep roofed box-like structure with definite Arts and Crafts embellishments. In addition to the steep, gabled roof of small terra-cotta roof tiles, minute individual balconies featuring wrought iron railings outside each of the regularly spaced upper windows, the sandstone banding, the pointed arches, the oriel bay over the front door, the 'warm' red-brick walls and the gable in-fills give the building its character. Further, 'the street elevation is enlivened by symmetrically placed doorways'.35 The Cultural Heritage Branch of Queensland's Environmental Protection Agency considers Church House to be significant architecturally because it combines in the Arts and Crafts manner a well-resolved design and detail, forming an integral part of the cathedral precinct's ecclesiastical buildings. It is described in the Queensland Heritage register as follows:

Church House is a two storeyed building, constructed in brick with some relieving stone courses and dressings to the windows. The steeply pitched gabled roof is tiled and finishes at the southern end with a low raking parapet. The other end features a simple gable indicating the proposed second stage extension. It is essentially Gothic in its overall form, especially the dominant high pitched roof and narrow lancet windows but has been greatly influenced by the Arts and Crafts movement. The upper storey of the Ann Street façade has three cantilevered concrete balconies with wrought iron balustrading and an oriel window. The eaves overhang the roof skirts around the gable ends and as a sunhood. The fenestration on the upper level has square heads while the lower level has gothic arches apart from the side door which has a semi-circular arch. The main entry off Ann Street is a broad gothic arched opening with stone trimmings. Internally, most of the original fabric remains.36

33 Queensland Heritage Register, Church House, Environmental Protection Agency, Brisbane, 2006, p. 1. 34 The British Architect, 1910. 35 Edquist, p. 191. 36 Queensland Heritage Register, p.2. 198

In 1909, the Diocesan Offices were 'upstairs' and the Diocesan Book Depot occupied the ground floor. A large room on the first floor on the Ann Street side of the building was set aside for the Diocesan Council meetings, that space being separated by folding doors from the office of Miss Walker, Secretary for Foreign Missions. On the opposite side of the passageway, which runs the whole length of the building, were a number of smaller rooms. In order, from the head of the stairs to the southern extremity, the offices were occupied by the Diocesan Registrar (Alexander Orme), the secretary of the Home Mission Fund, the Archdeacon of Brisbane and the Bishop― probably in the room at the end of the corridor.37 Ominously, at the time of completion and when the building was occupied. There was no mention of future plans for the missing Synod Hall.

Further plans To many critics, the building looks unfinished, the large gap between it and Webber House attesting to this sad state. Brit Andresen, Professor of Architecture at The University of Queensland, strongly hinted that the decision to cleave the building was short-sighted, given the accommodation problems in the cathedral's ancillary buildings which were already evident by the turn of the twentieth century.38 Well-designed and constructed the three Arts and Crafts buildings fronting Ann Street might be, but the obvious gap arising from the decision not to erect the Synod Hall, compromises the concept of a complete streetscape via the northern approach to the cathedral as envisaged by Dods. Apparently Dods' intention to unexpectedly reveal the glory of the cathedral after passing by a high, unbroken wall of the auxiliary ecclesiastical buildings will never be realised. The drive to finish the Church House complex by adding the Synod Hall simmered for another two decades. Commencing agitation for the hall in 1913, Canon Edward Osborne successfully moved at Synod that the Cathedral Chapter should consider the advisability of providing a new Synod Hall to replace that which had been built by subscription and sold to the Government.39 Whereas the Reverend Walter Thompson, seconder of the above motion, raised the matter again at the 1921 Synod, G. Weatherlake, armed with convincing figures, continued to press that claim three years later. He revealed that the Cathedral Chapter had amassed the sum of £3737 to the credit of the Synod Hall account and, on that basis, he moved successfully that the Diocesan Council be directed 'to consider the urgent necessity of rebuilding a new Synod Hall'.40 The matter was swiftly considered, but Council reported to the Synod of 1925 that it 'found it was impossible 'to make the necessary financial arrangements' at that stage.41 However in that year, Chapter reported a significant diminution in the balance of the once-healthy Synod Hall fund owing to unexpected expenditure on the cathedral precinct infrastructure. Sewerage had been connected to the Deanery, St John's

37 Church Chronicle, December 1909, p. 373. 38 Andresen, The Cathedral Church of St John, p. 53. 39 Diocesan Year Book, 1913, p. 37. 40 Diocesan Year Book 1921, p. 39; Diocesan Year Book, 1924, p. 44. 41 Diocesan year Book, 1925, p. 151. 199

School and the Diocesan Office at the cost of £740. Hence the fund thereafter stood at £3573, £163 less than the sum available in 1921.42 In 1926, the Diocesan Council approached Conrad and Atkinson, the cathedral architects, to provide a report on the advisability on enlarging the St John's School building to provide a much-needed Synod Hall. Although the architects submitted plans to build a hall at the rear of the school building, their concept was ultimately rejected on aesthetic and economic grounds. Subsequently a sub-committee of the Council thoroughly examined the question of the hall and reported: 'the possibility of adapting St Luke's Church (or as an alternative the possibility of building a Synod Hall above St Luke's Church) presents such excellent prospects that they recommend the Diocesan Council to procure a builder's report'.43 By 1927, the quest to finish the Diocesan Offices by building the proposed Synod Hall extension was dead and buried. Synod found a new hall for its gathering in 1927: St Luke's Church had been transformed into a hall suitably spacious and comfortable to accommodate its annual sizeable gathering and its facilities assured participants of a better standard of meals.44 In 1928, it was suggested that the reserve fund for the replacement of Synod Hall be transferred to reduce of the Cathedral Building Fund debt.45 By 1932, Chapter admitted to the desirability of urgently building of a Synod Hall, but the matter was left in abeyance as the time was inopportune to increase the debts of the Chapter.46 Consequently St Luke's remained the Synod venue until 1976 when it was transferred to Morris Hall at the Anglican Church Grammar School.

Modernisation and change Towards the end of 1919, electricity was installed in the office building, and in the following year, the first repairs were made to the contentious roof.47 By 1948, plumbers and architects reiterated their warning that it would be necessary to repair the roofing of Church House, a course of action Wunderlich Ltd had recommended several years previously. Following Chapter's direction, the architects undertook to submit a detailed report on the condition of the roofing in order that a decision could be taken on subsequent action.48 Evidently, the matter stood at an impasse as Chapter once more put aside remedial action advised by diocesan architects; the many leaks in many places remained. Finally, in 1954, diocesan architects AH Conrad and TBF Gargett reported, after yet another inspection the roof of Church House, that there was indeed urgent need for proper remediation. As a result of their inspection, the architects instructed Wunderlich Ltd to submit quotations for repairing the roof and for the alternative of stripping the shingle tiles and relaying them.49

42 Cathedral Chapter report, 1925, p. 146; Cathedral Chapter report, 1926, p. 154. 43 Diocesan Council report, 1926, p. 159. 44 Church Chronicle, July 1927, p. 125. 45 Andresen, The Cathedral Church of St John, p. 53. 46 Cathedral Chapter report, 1932, p. 147. 47 Building Committee minutes, 11 September 1919, p. 467; Cathedral Chapter report 1920, p. 157. 48 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 22 February 1922, p. 246. 49 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 10 May 1954, p. 354. 200

In June 1955, Messrs Conrad & Gargett tabled Wunderlich's quotation of £892 to strip the existing shingle tiles, place a malthoid covering the roof, and then put the existing shingle tiles back again (replacing any cracked or broken tiles with new ones). Chapter accepted that estimate, subsequently incurring additional costs for plumbing repairs and making good the defective woodwork under the shingle tiles when the work was successfully completed by November 1955.50 51 Inadequate provision of toilet facilities for administrative staff and cathedral worshippers was not addressed until 1960 when the Diocese approved the tender of Messrs A Davidson & Cowan for £1533 13/- to alter and extend the toilet block at the rear of Church House. Designed by Conrad & Gargett, the new landscaped block featured brickwork to match the colour and texture of that of Church House as well as metal-frame windows of Georgian wired cast glass.52 In June 1980, following further complaints about lack of toilet facilities for the cathedral congregation, FC Upton & Sons Pty Ltd submitted drawings for first floor extensions to the existing toilet block behind Church House. That brick edifice, built atop the Church House toilet block and near the belfry was accessed via the cathedral car park.53

Alterations The current citation for Church House in the Queensland Heritage Register records that most of the internal fabric remains, easily-removable modern partitioning and surface ducted air-conditioning accounting for most of the changes.54 The first of those substantial alterations occurred in the 1970s when the incumbent archbishop returned to Church House to set up his office in two back rooms and the diocesan registrar remodelled the whole of the area overlooking Ann Street to create an upstairs and up-to-date registry. When the church hierarchy abandoned Church House for renovated quarters in St Martin's House in 1990, further partitioning above and significant structural alterations on the ground floor were undertaken to establish the much needed Diocesan Archives. Also, during the period between 1971 and 2007, many changes in accommodation for several church agencies occupying the limited number of rooms at the rear of the first floor were carried out. When the Diocese accepted Lady Tooth's offer to purchase 'Eldernell', atop Hamilton Heights, for the archbishops' residence ('Bishopsbourne'), Archbishop was content to remove his office from Milton to that cramped, elevated location. However, his successor, Archbishop Felix Arnott, not satisfied with the distance from diocesan administration and the restricted space available to him and his secretary in the new 'Bishopsbourne', found it necessary to relocate his office in Church House. The Property and Finance Board accordingly

50 Cathedral Chapter minutes, 16 June 1955, p. 356. 51 Report of the Property and Finance Board 1956, p. 121. 52 Report of the Property and Finance Board 1961, p.114; Conrad & Gargett, Proposed extensions to toilets, 1960, D135; Cathedral Chapter minutes, 23 June 1960, p. 61. 53 FC Upton & Sons Pty Ltd. Proposed first floor extensions of existing toilet block at St John‘s Cathedral, CADRS219-D139, 1980, Michael Kennedy, architect. 54 Church House, Queensland Heritage Register, 4 April 2006, p. 2. 201 reported in 1971 that quotations totalling $1065 were accepted for refurbishing two rooms in Church House for that purpose. Those rooms, thereafter featuring an inter-connecting communication door, were located in the middle of the building on the deanery side and opposite the busy, relatively unaltered diocesan registry. The diocesan accountant was located in the last room on the left hand side of the building – handy for the large accounting machine. On the Ann Street side were the diocesan registrar, his secretary and the general office staff which occupied open space. The assistant bishop, the Home Mission Office and the schools officer were located on the ground floor among the limited number of rooms and partition.55 Significantly occurring in the wake of Rowland St John's retirement as long-serving Diocesan Registrar (1946-74), Conrad, Garget & Partners Pty Ltd submitted plans for a major renovation of both floors of Church House in 1975 (the Book Depot had vacated its premises in 1930). On the ground floor, the major work entailed demolishing the existing partitions, rebuilding walls, erecting high partitions to form new rooms for offices, fitting a new ply faced door and relocation of the counters. It was reported to Synod 1977 that renovations and refurnishing of the Diocesan Registry and Home Mission office had been carried out at a cost of $17,482.56 Thereafter, general entrance to the building was gained via a large central gothic door on the ground floor. The Ann Street side of the first floor became the preserve of the registrar. Proceeding from right to left after ascending the step staircase were located a waiting room which led onto the general office with ample work space, the registrar's secretary's room with connecting doors to the registrar's office on the southern corner. Separated from the secretary's domain by a high partition was the assistant registrar's room, also with windows overlooking Ann Street.57 On the lower floor labyrinth were the headquarters of the Mothers' Union, long-term tenants from 1952 to 1997 and evictees from the first floor evictees following Arnott's re-organization in 1971. Also located on the ground floor was the office for Bishop Ralph Wicks', the Home Missions and the Development Fund. Occupying the space which was once the preserve of the defunct bookshop were two general offices and a large waiting room. The cathedral side offices on the first floor remained unaltered. In 1980, following his appointment and consecration, Archbishop Grindrod usurped Registrar Norman Reid's newly created office 'suite' embracing half the entire Ann Street frontage. This caused further re- organisation, Reid having to move into the room which contained the accounting machines at the northern end of the building. In turn, those vital machines were shifted to the ground floor with their operators. On 10th February 1983, the Diocesan Council noted that consideration was being given to provision of additional office accommodation arising from the appointment of additional assistant bishops, the School Officer and increases in general staff.58 After the assistant bishops and the cathedral

55 Ken Addison, Recollections, email to author, 3 May 2008. 56 Property and Finance Board report 1977, p. 113. 57 Conrad and Gargett & Partners Pty Ltd,. Floor plan of the Registrar‘s office, Church House, 2 November 1976, D133. 58 Diocesan Council minutes, 10 February 1983, p. 285. 202 administrative staff relocated at St Martin's House in 1990, Church House became the preserve of the Diocesan Archives and Records Centre and various church agencies, such as the Girls' Friendly Society, Hospital Chaplaincy and Aged Care which shared the western vacant rooms on a daily roster basis. Between 2005 and 2007, several long-term church occupants, such as the Cathedral Completion Fund, were transferred from St Martin's House to Church House where room was found for them. This was achieved by relocating most of the long-standing resident agencies at Church House, such as the Girls Friendly Society. Those relocations followed dynamic Dean ' decision to ruthlessly rationalise space within cathedral buildings and maximise monetary return for the financially underperforming CBD space by attracting high rent-paying tenants to the better facilities at St Martin's.59 After further evictions, several to St Francis College at Milton, most of the space on both floors in a depopulated Church House was devoted to the burgeoning archives, two large compactus units virtually occupying most of the ground floor. At the end of 2007, that monopoly came to an end when Michael Kennedy, Cathedral Architect, leased the three southern rooms on the upper floor. From those rooms he conducts his professional practice, supervised the successful completion of the cathedral and is in the planning phase of a much-needed administration complex behind Webber House, action which has which arisen in part from the failure to build Dods' Senate Hall.

Conclusion Although Church House no longer fulfils the traditional functions envisaged by Robin Dods a century ago and retains its name merely for identification purposes, the juxtaposition within of a heritage architect and a valuable historical repository, which is now on the verge of outgrowing its allocated space, ensures that the building continues to have an important role in diocesan affairs. The threatened overflow of historical resources, both parochial and diocesan, and the urgent need for better facilities for researchers are positive signs. That catalytic surfeit is a sure indicator that the former indifference and even neglect that Queensland Anglicans showed towards preserving their records and documenting their history and heritage ―even up to a decade ago― may well be an aberration of the past.

59 Cathedral Chapter report 2006, p. 34. 203

204

The Rediscovery of Participation in God as Deification/Divinisation (Greek:Theōsis) in the Anglican Theological and Spiritual Tradition

Craig McBride Griffith University

In recent decades there has been an increasing interest across the Christian spectrum in both the doctrine and teaching of deification as a tenet of the Christian life. Perhaps it was through the patristic revival of the Oxford movement (1833-45) that the concept of deification was recovered. The Oxford Dictionary describes deification (Gr: θєωσίς . Eng. Theōsis) or theopoiēsis, [as] „Becoming God‟, the normal term for the transforming effect of grace in Greek patristic and Eastern Orthodox Theology. Theologian-philosopher E L Mascall writes that „no term less than „deification‟ is adequate to describe the condition of the human being who has been taken by grace into the supernatural realm; and… not simply the condition of the mystic united to God… but also that of the newly baptized infant at the font or of the newly absolved sinner in the confessional.‟Recent scholarship has identified deification in St. Augustine of Hippo, Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Wesley, early Anglicanism, early Methodism and Jonathan Edwards – all fountainheads of Western Theology. Allchin argues that in addition to mystics such as Julian of Norwich, George Fox and William Blake who are a part of the Anglican theological and spiritual tradition, there are those who write about divinisation such as Richard Hooker, Lancelot Andrewes, Charles Wesley and E.B. Pusey, to mention only a few. Newey examines the doctrine of deification in seventeenth century Anglican theology, writing that the Anglican theologians Richard Hooker, Benjamin Whichcote, Ralph Cudworth, and Jeremy Taylor understood that „the highest human calling is to conformity with Christ by partaking in the divine pedagogy which is the life of the Trinity.‟ Rowan Williams suggests that „the „deification‟ tradition enables us to envisage a contemporary theology and spirituality of Christlike freedom – freedom dependent on relation with the Father, yet „divine‟ in its own authority, creativity and capacity for self- giving and compassion.‟

Daniel A. Keating writes that ‗In the past two or three generations a conscious effort has been made across the Christian spectrum to retrieve an understanding of Christian life in terms of ‗deification‘ and to give explicit attention to its meaning and content.‘1 Keating further observes: ‗The doctrine of deification functions centrally in Eastern Orthodox theology and liturgy, and it is within the ambit of Orthodoxy that deification (theosis) has received its fullest development. Catholic theologians, however, have not been far behind in their efforts to reinvigorate the idea of deification within a specifically Westen context.‘ 2 What is ‗more striking‘ to Keating is ‗the interest that some theologians from the churches of the Reformation are giving to the notion of

1 Daniel A. Keating, Deification and Grace , Naples, Sapientia Press, 2007, p. 2 2 Keating, Deification and Grace. 205 deification.‘3 Keating further writes that ‗Anglican writers, especially those steeped in patristic theology, have long been well disposed to the idea of deification.‘4 In 1988, A.M. Allchin in his book Participation in God: A Forgotten Strand in Anglican Tradition made the case that ‗the patristic adage ‗God became man so that man might become God‘ is not so foreign to Anglican tradition as is commonly assumed.‘5 Similarly Don Armentrout and Robert Slocum write that ‗Although theōsis [Greek: Deification/Divinisation] has not been emphasized in Anglican theology of salvation, it is compatible with William Porcher DuBose‘s understanding of humanity‘s destined union with God through the saving process of divine grace.‘ 6 A.M. Allchin points out in his monograph that in addition to mystics such as Julian of Norwich, George Fox and William Blake7 who are part of the English theological and spiritual tradition, there are those who write about divinisation such as Richard Hooker, Lancelot Andrewes , Charles Wesley and E.B. Pusey, to mention only a few.8 The existence of a mystical dimension to theology in the history of Anglican spirituality that should make necessary for members of the English Church to reassess their theological traditions and this papers intends to survey some of the recent ideas which have offered this reorientation of the Anglican theological tradition.9 Allchin writes that the English ‗shall have to take seriously the subtitle which Nicholas Lossky has given to his study of the theology of Lancelot Andrewes, ‗the origins of the mystical theology of the Church of England‘ (aux sources de la theologie mystique de l‘Eglise d‘Angleterre).‘10 However Allchin also writes (in 1988) that: ‗…it is common knowledge that Anglicans do not hold this doctrine [of deification], and certainly do not use this terminology.‘ It should be remembered that the Anglican – Orthodox Joint Doctrinal Commission reached different conclusions in thier Agreed Statement in Moscow in 1976, for the Orthodox tradition spoke of ‗the fullness of man‘s sanctification in terms of his sharing in the life of God, using the term theosis kata charin (divinisation by grace),‘, but ‗such language is not normally used by Anglicans, some of whom regard it as dangerous and misleading.‘11 In 1983, the now Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, wrote that the word ‗deification‘ [Greek: theōsis (θέωσις)] ‗…has acquired a very suspicious sound in the ears of perhaps the majority of Western Christians.‘12

3 Keating, Deification and Grace, p. 4 4 Keating, Deification and Grace, p. 4 .Keating recommends the following Anglican writers: A. M. Allchin, Participation in God: A Forgotten Strand in Anglican Tradition, Wilton, Morehouse-Barlow, 1988. For the influence of the Greek Fathers and the doctrine of deification on the Anglican Oxford movement, see Andrew Louth, ‗Manhood into God: The Oxford Movement, the Fathers and Deification of Man,‘ in and Rowan Williams (eds), Essays Catholic and Radical, London. Bowerdean, 1983, pp. 70-80. Louth also published in 2007 on ‗The Place of Theosis in Orthodox Theology‘ in Partakers of the Divine Nature. The theology of deification shows up prominently in the Anglican theologian-philosopher E. L. Mascall, Christ, the Christian and the Church: A Study of the Incarnation and Its Consequences, London, Longmans, Green and Co., 1946. 5 Allchin, Participation in God, p.ix 6 Don S. Armentrout and Robert Boak Slocum, ‗Deification‘ in Don S. Armentrout and Robert Boak Slocum (eds), An Episcopal Dictionary of the Church: A User friendly Reference for Episcopalians, New York, Church Publishing Incorporated 2000, p.518. 7 Armentrout and Slocum, Participation in God, p. 3. 8 Armentrout and Slocum, Participation in God, p. 3. 9 Armentrout and Slocum, Participation in God, p. 3 10 Armentrout and Slocum, Participation in God, p. 3 11 Armentrout and Slocum, Participation in God, p. 3 12 Rowan Williams, ‗Deification‘, in Gordon S Wakefield (ed), A Dictionary of Christian Spirituality, London, SCM Press, 1983, p.106 206

Williams also notes that discussion of the subject ‗…has also been a good deal hampered by the confusion of doctrines of deification with speculations [such as those of and the New Age] about a divine and uncreated ‗core‘ of the human soul.‘13 Williams considers that the antipathy towards the doctrine of divinisation is due in part as ‗…a result of the claims of mediaeval and sixteenth - century sectarian and apocalyptic groups to be united in essence with God (and so incapable of sin).‘14 In contrast to the claims of such groups, is teaching provided by Maximus the Confessor, arguably the best of the Eastern Theologians who focus on ‗the sense of grace‘. Norris writes that in the context of his discussion of deification, Maximus the Confessor ‗…describes it not as a magical activity that overpowers a human being [an error sometimes made by fringe Pentecostal groups] so that the person has no moral life or growth, but one in which grace and free will work together.‘15 Maximus writes: [] gives adoption by giving through the Spirit a supernatural birth from on high in grace; the guardian and preserver of that divine birth is the free will of those who are thus born. By a sincere disposition it cherishes the grace bestowed and by careful observance of the commandments it adorns the beauty given in grace. By the humbling of the passions, it takes on divinity in the same measure that the Word of God willed to empty himself in the incarnation of his own unmixed glory in becoming genuinely human.16 Keating considers that ‗given a widespread interest in deification from various theological perspectives and commitments, there is a need for a clear description of what the classical doctrine of deification is, and an estimation of what value it might possess.‘17 Kevin Hill, reviewer of Norman Russell‘s The Doctrine of Deification in the Greek Patristic Tradition, writes that: ‗Over the past 100 years, scholars of Western Christianity have begun to rediscover the startling patristic description of salvation as deification.‘18 David V. Meconi S.J. writes succinctly: ‗Enlisting the voices of Irenaeus, Athanasius and Aquinas, [together with many others] the church teaches that divinization never confuses, the human and divine natures remaining eternally other and distinct. Rather, a theology of deification points to the human person‘s graced participation in God‘s very nature: perfect communion and the subsequent sharing in divine characteristics‘ [cf. 2 Peter 1:4].19 As described by Andrew Louth in the New Westminster Dictionary of Christian Spirituality, Deification is ‗…the doctrine that the destiny of human kind, or indeed of the cosmos as a whole, is to share in the divine life, and actually to become God, though by grace rather than by nature.‘20 Louth views this doctrine, characteristic of

13 F. W. Norris, ‗Deification: Consensual and Cogent: A Protestant Perspective on Eastern Orthodoxy,‘ Scottish Journal of Theology, v.49, no. 4, 1996, p.418. 14 Williams, ‗Deification‘, p.106 15 Norris, ‗Deification: Consensual and Cogent‘, p. 417. 16 George Berthold, ‗Commentary on the Our Father 2,‘ in George Berthold (ed), Maximus Confessor: Selected Writings, New York, Paulist Press, 1985, p.103. Quoted in Norris, ‗Deification: Consensual and Cogent,‘, p. 418. 17 Keating, Deification and Grace, p. 5 18 Kevin Douglas Hill, ‗The Doctrine of Deification in the Greek Patristic Tradition,‘ Anglican Theological Review, 90, no. 399, 2008, p.399. 19 David V. Meconi, ‗Deification in the Thought of John Paul II,‘ Irish Theological Quarterly 71, 2006, p.129 20 Andrew Louth, ‗Deification,‘ in The New Westminister Dictionary of Christian Spirituality, Westminster, John Knox Press, 2005, p.229 207

Eastern Orthodox theology in particular, as ‗having developed out of a host of suggestions in the Bible that human engagement with God involves a profound intimacy.‘21 In the Old Testament, these suggestions include Israel‘s proximity to God, (Deut.4.7) and Israel‘s sense of a filial relationship to God (Ex. 4.22).22 In the New Testament these suggestions of intimacy with God are multiplied: ‗the notion of sonship/[daughtership] becomes central (cf Matt. 6.9-13; Rom. 8. 14-17; Gal.4.4-7).‘23 Finally, Louth writes that ‗…the notion of transformation into the Lord‘s glory appears (cf. 2 Cor.3.18; 1 Cor.13.12-13), and there are explicit assertions that ‗we shall be like him‘ (1 John 3.2), and ‗become partakers of the divine nature‘ ( 2 Peter 1.4).‘24 (theias koinōnoi physeōs).

The Retrieval of Deification in modern Theology and Spirituality In Western Christianity, the recovery of the doctrine or teaching of deification has occurred somewhat differently. The Oxford Dictionary of Christianity for example, attributes the modern recovery of the concept of deification to the patristic revival in the Oxford Movement.25 Allchin writes that ‗central to the concerns of the Oxford movement‘ is the subject of his book Participation in God which considers: [t]he reaffirmation of the doctrine of theōsis , seen as an immediate consequence of the doctrine of the incarnation, and the foundation of a new and transformed vision of the calling and destiny of man. For man is lifted up into participation in God by the loving movement of God‘s coming to share in the very nature and predicament of man. This doctrine, which was at the heart of the Christianity of East and West in the first millennium of the Christian era, and which has remained central in the Christianity of the Orthodox East, suddenly came to new life with unexpected power in the middle of nineteenth- century England. It was as if there was a veritable epiphany of patristic spirituality and theology in the midst of our divided western Christendom, an epiphany which would draw together into new possibilities of reconciliation elements of the Reformation heritage and elements of the continuing tradition of the churches in communion with Rome. Here again there is much unfinished business, much in the original vision of the Oxford Movement which has not yet been realised and appropriated.26 Allchin comments further that the Oxford Movement: [c]ombined in a remarkable way a rediscovery of doctrine with a renewal of life, a search for the fullness of the faith which was at the same time a search for the life of holiness. In this movement there was no separation between theology and spirituality, between theory and practice. Everything that was seen as the will of God made an immediate demand on man‘s obedience.27 The early sermons of members of the Oxford Movement, notably Newman‘s Lectures on Justification, published in 1836, ‗expresses this central conviction of the Oxford Movement, the conviction that as we respond to God in Christ, God himself is present

21 Louth, ‗Deification‘, p.229 22 Louth, ‗Deification‘, p.229 23 Louth, ‗Deification‘, p.229 24 Louth, ‗Deification‘, p.229 25 F.L Cross and E.A. Livingstone, ‗Deification,‘ in F.L.Cross and E.A. Livingstone (eds), The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church 3rd Edition, Oxford & New York, Oxford University Press, 2005, p. 465. 26 Allchin, Participation in God, p. 49 27 Allchin, Participation in God, p. 49 208 to us, in our hearts, drawing us to himself; a conviction which expresses the heart of the patristic doctrine of deification‘.28 Allchin suggests that in these Lectures Newman argues: …that the Reformers were right in insisting that our justification is wholly the work of Christ. They were wrong in teaching that this righteousness is only imputed to us and not imparted. Christ himself becomes our righteousness. ‗Our true righteousness is the indwelling of our glorified Lord…This is to be justified, to receive the Divine Presence with us and to be made a temple of the Holy Ghost.‘ So Newman can affirm ‗justification comes through the sacraments; it is received by faith; consists in God‘s inward presence; and lives in obedience‘. This understanding of justification has immediate ethical implications for members of the Anglican tradition. Don S. Armentrout and Robert Boak Slocum point out that ‗Although theōsis [deification/divinisation] has not been emphasized in Anglican theology of salvation, it is compatible with William Porcher DuBose‘s understanding of humanity‘s destined union with God through the saving process of divine grace.29 They then point to the English theologian Richard Hooker [1554 - 1600] who ‗…emphasized the theological significance of sacramental participation in Book V of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity.‘30 Allchin writes that Hooker ‗…treats of the doctrine of the Church and the sacraments on the basis of a reaffirmation of the Christology of Chalcedon…the concept of participation is essential‘. Further: Sacraments are the powerful instruments of God to eternal life. For as our natural life consisteth in the union of body with soul, so our life supernatural [consisteth in ] in the union of the soul with God. And forasmuch as there is no union of God with man without that mean [Jesus Christ – both human and divine] between both which is both, it seemeth requisite that we first consider how [in what manner] God is in Christ, then how Christ is in us, and how the sacraments do serve to make us partakers of Christ. In other things we may be more brief, but the weight of these requireth largeness.‘31 Allchin writes that this is the basis for Hooker‘s ‗…detailed exposition of what it means that we should be called to live the life of God and to share in Christ as members of his body, which occupies that later part of his work. It is an exposition which at one point Hooker sums up in terms of the most familiar Trinitarian formula of the New Testament.‘32 Hooker‘s own words amplify this strand of thought: ‗Life, as all other gifts and benefits groweth originally from the Father, and cometh not to us but by the Son; nor by the Son to any of us in particular but through the Spirit. For this cause the apostle wisheth the church of Corinth ‗The grace of [from] our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love [from] of God, and the fellowship of [from] the Holy Ghost,‘ which three St Peter comprehendeth in one, ‗The participation of the divine nature.‘ (theias koinōnoi physeōs).33

28 Andrew Louth, ‗Manhood into God: The Oxford Movement, the Fathers and the Deification of Man,‘ in Kenneth Leech and Rowan Williams (eds) Essays Catholic and Radical, London Bowerdean Press, 1983, p. 74-75. Quoted in Allchin, Participation in God, p. 51 29 Armentrout and Slocum, ‗Deification ‗, p.518. 30 Armentrout and Slocum, ‗Deification ‗, p.518. 31 Allchin, Participation in God, p.13-14; cf. Hooker, Laws of Eccles.Pol., V,1,3, in Works, vol. II 32 Allchin, Participation in God, p. 14; cf. Laws of Eccles. Pol., V, Ivi, 7. 33 Allchin, Participation in God, p.14 209

Hooker‘s views, expressed at the end of the Elizabethan period, remained influential into the seventeenth century. Allchin writes that: ‗Half a century later…preaching before the House of Commons…Ralph Cudworth placed the same doctrine at the centre of his presentation of the Christian message.‘34 Allchin finds it striking that ‗a thinker in many ways different from Hooker…should have made this same affirmation.‘35 Allchin considers that ‗One could not have a clearer indication of the influence of patristic thinking on the mainstream of Anglican theology.‘36 In March 1647, Cudworth preached: And though the Gospel be not God, as he is on his own brightness, but God veiled and masked to us, God in a state of humiliation and condescendent as the sun in a rainbow, yet it is nothing else but a clear and unspotted mirror of divine holiness, goodness, purity, in which attributes lie the very life and essence of God himself. The Gospel is nothing else but God descending into the world in our form and conversing with us in our likeness that he might allure and draw us up to God and make us partakers of his divine form, theos gegonen anthrōpos (as Athanasius speaks) hina hēmas en eautō theopoiēsē; ‗God was therefore incarnated and made man that he might deify us‘; that is (as St Peter expresseth it) makes us partakers of the divine nature.37 The impact of these ideas can be traced in the works of other seventeenth century writers. Allchin also argues that in the sermons of Lancelot Andrewes (1556-1626), a contemporary of Richard Hooker, we have a ‗kerygmatic and liturgical theology, a theology of praise and proclamation, whose models are patristic …It is a theology which reaffirms and represents…that particular synthesis of dogma and experience, of thought and intuition, of learning and devotion which we find in the fathers of the first ten centuries, alike in East and West.‘38 Other scholars have since endorsed this view. Nicholas Lossky, a distinguished Russian Orthodox scholar teaching in Paris, ‗shows in the preaching of the seventeenth century Bishop [Andrewes], a living and dynamic presence of that understanding of the mystery of Christ which is characteristic of the teaching of the fathers, and especially of the fathers of the East.‘39 The act of God in the incarnation and the Cross is one of extirpation, of removing the errant principle of privation and of stamping out finitude and death, in order to give the gift of new ontology [a new being] to humanity, an ontology that is identical to God, not that human beings become in essence (ousia) the same as God, but that God, in a sense becomes their own being. This is the goal, the telos, of redemption. The conceit of this ontological union is theosis or divinization, which means principally a union of being with God [a union of God‘s being with our being]. Maximus conceives of this as the drawing of humanity into union with God, which changes the essence of human beings in transfixion or transelementation [approximate to transubstantiation] in the ultimate beauty and glory of God. Yet this concept of theosis does not posit a blending of God and humanity into each other, where all differentiation is lost. Rather, human beings are moved into a participation in God through ‗beholding the ultimate and ineffable beauty, which transfixes our nature as with a stamp by which we are impressed into conformity and perfection with God‘s image.‘ We will participate without being restricted, being uncontainably contained [in God]. It is a

34 Allchin, Participation in God, p.14 35 Allchin, Participation in God, p. 14 36 Allchin, Participation in God, p. 14 37 Allchin, Participation in God, p. 14 38 Allchin, Participation in God, p. 15 39 Allchin, Participation in God, p. 15 210 genuine harmony with the fullness of God who will infuse us and unite us to God‘s being.40 Gibson writes that [Jonathan] Edwards seems to ascribe this understanding of theosis as the ultimate goal of union with God‘s being and the perfection of communion in God‘s glory.41 Participation in God as Panentheism Panentheism is central to the notion of participation in God among many of today‘s Christian theologians involved in the science religion dialogue,42 as well as many other prominent theologians, especially of the Anglican tradition.43 Gregory Peterson writes that ‗As theory, panentheism claims to give a definitive account of the relationship between God and the world that necessarily excludes competing alternatives [such as Pantheism].‘44 On the one hand, panentheism avoids the error of pantheism, which identifies God with the world. On the other hand, panentheism removes the possibility of , which serves to disassociate God from the world, so that ‗God‘s action in the world becomes inconceivable.‘45 Robert Hughes argues that ‗In a true panentheism as opposed to pantheism, God is in all things and all things are in God, but God and ‗things‘ remain distinct.‘46 Similarly Peterson argues: Analogy from the mind-body relationship leads to a ‗weak‘ panentheism that emphasizes the presence of God, while whole-part analogies suggest a ‗strong‘ panentheism that emphasizes some level of identity between God and the world. In turn, these analogies and metaphors bear nontrivial similarities to early Trinitarian and Christological debates in their treatment of God and the world as distinct substances.47 Theosis in seventeenth-century Anglican theology and spirituality With these thoughts in mind, it is necessary to return to the mental world of seventeenth-century English theology. Newey argues that ‗…the Patristic doctrine of participation, in spite of its implicit rejection by influential contemporary figures such as Descartes and Hobbes, [both critiqued by Cudworth] is vital to a true understanding of much late sixteenth and early seventeenth century Anglican divinity.‘48 Newey argues that the term ‗reason‘ ‗…as used by the four seventeenth century Anglican theologians [above] that he discusses , ‗… can only be understood in the context of

40 Max. Conf., Ambig. 7, PG 91: 1076B, 1088B; quoted in Michael D. Gibson, ‗The Beauty of the Redemption of the World: The Theological Aesthetics of Maximus the Confessor and Jonathan Edwards,‘ Harvard Theological Review 101, no. 1, 2008, p. 69 41 Gibson, ‗The Beauty of the Redemption of the World', pp. 68-69. 42 Theologians such as Arthur Peacocke (1993) and Philip Clayton (1997) as referred to by Gregory R. Peterson, ‗Whither Panentheism?,‘ Zygon, 36, no. 3, 2001. 43 These prominent theologians include Sally McFague(1993), Jűrgen Moltmann(1985), and Leonardo Boff (1997) referred to by Peterson, ‗Whither Panentheism?‘. 44 Peterson, ‗Whither Panentheism?‘, p.398. 45 Peterson, ‗Whither Panentheism?‘ 46 Robert Davis Hughes III, ‗A Critical Note on Two Aspects of Self-Transcendence,‘ Sewanee Theological Review 46, no. 1, 2002, pp.119-120. 47 Peterson, ‗Whither Panentheism?‘, p. 395. The Jesuit Process Philosopher and Theologian Joseph Bracken proposes that ‗the notion of ‗field‘ within a process-oriented worldview could serve as the equivalent of ‗substance‘ within classical metaphysics. Bracken writes that ‗Like a substance in classical metaphysics, a field is an enduring physical reality that serves as a principle of continuity in the midst of constant change and thus provides for the stable transmission of form or pattern from one moment to the next.‘ Quoted in Joseph A. Bracken, ‗Dependent Co-Origination and Universal Intersubjectivity,‘ Buddhist Christian Studies, 27, 2007, p. 7 48 Edmund Newey, ‗The Form of Reason: Participation in the Work of Richard Hooker, Benjamin Whichcote, Ralph Cudworth and Jeremy Taylor‘, Modern Theology, vol. 18, I, pp. 1-26, p.3. 211 participative form, namely that of the embodiment of the divine reason, the Logos, in Christ. Newey claims that all of the Anglican theologians he discusses see ‗…participative union with the Creator God as the origin and the end of all created human being…‘reason‘ in their work cannot be separated from God‘s loving disposition towards us in his Son, the incarnate Logos, who is both the form of reason, and the only means of its true realisation in us through the Spirit. As Whichcote puts it: ‗As Sin is a Vitiating the Reason of Man; the Restauration must be by the reason of God: by Christ, the Logos.‘49 Newey further points out that: ‗The influence of Platonic thought, particularly as refracted through the work of Augustine and Aquinas‘,50 is evident in all the Anglican theologians he discusses. Newey writes: Plato employed a wide range of terms in his discussion of the participation that lies between the transcendent Forms and mere earthly appearances. Parousia (presence), symploke (interweaving), koinonia (coupling), mimesis (imitation), mixis (mixture) and methexis ( participation) are all to a large extent interchangeable. It was the last term, methexis , which was the most influential in the Christian tradition however, implying both ‗the logical connection of the one to the many‘ and ‗the paradox…[of a] participation …that does not take a part, but participates in the whole – as the day participates in the light of the sun.51 We can conclude that this reading of much seventeenth century Anglican theology has reasserted the element of participation in this thought. Newey feels that ‗The rediscovery of participation at the heart of much sixteenth and seventeenth century Anglican theology has become an urgent imperative in recent decades.‘ Doing so would align Anglican theological traditions with much of the intellectual activity in contemporary , which has ‗increasingly recognised the importance of participation , particularly as expressed in the Patristic period by the terms theōsis or theopoēsis (‗deification‘ or ‗divinisation‘).‘52 He further points out that ‗Rowan Williams has suggested that the ‗deification‘ tradition enables us to envisage ‗a contemporary theology and spirituality of Christlike freedom – freedom dependent on relation with the Father, yet ‗divine‘ in its own authority, creativity and capacity for self-giving and compassion‘.‘53 Newey holds that resources are present for a constructive reappraisal of participative reason ‗in continuity not only with the Fathers and Aquinas, but with the indigenous English tradition also‘.54 To end on a controversial note, Paul L. Gavrilyuk has ventured ‗a conditional forecast‘ that: [d]eification, provided that its full implications are realized, will work like a time- bomb in due course producing a ‗creative destruction‘ of the soteriological visions developed by the Churches of the Reformation. Whether the idea will have the power to move these churches closer to the Christian East in other respects, say by developing a sacramental understanding of the world or synergistic anthropology, only time will show.55

49 Newey, ‗The Form of Reason‘, p. 4. 50 Newey, ‗The Form of Reason‘, p.4. 51 H.-G. Gadamer, The Idea of the Good in Platonic-Aristotelian Philosophy, New Haven, Yale University Press, 1986, p.10f , in Newey, ‗The Form of Reason‘, p. 4 52 Newey, ‗The Form of Reason‘, p.4. 53 Williams, ‗‗Deification‘, pp. 107-108, in Newey , ‗The Form of Reason‘, p.5. 54 Newey, ‗The Form of Reason‘, p.5 55 Gavrilyuk, ‗The Retrieval of Deification‘, p.657. 212

Anzac Day as Australia's All Souls' Day: Canon David John Garland's Vision for Commemoration of the Fallen

John A. Moses St Mark's National Theological Centre1

The figure of Canon David John Garland (1864-1939) in Australian Anglican history is a towering one. His archbishop, St Clare Donaldson of Brisbane described him as a "Triton among the minnows". He came to Australia as a young man from Dublin, having experienced his formation in an "Orangeman" family, a fact of crucial significance in his biography. Of further significance was his encounter when, as an articled clerk in Toowoomba, he encountered Canon Tommy Jones at St James' who "converted" the fiery young Protestant Garland to become an equally fiery young Anglo-Catholic. These facts are crucial for any accurate historical evaluation of this most remarkable priest. He is remembered for many things, but chiefly as being the "architect" of Anzac Day. His vision was that of an Anglican Empire patriot who desired to reconcile all faiths (and as well, agnostics)together in a common recollection of the fallen, honour them for their self-sacrifice for the the Empire's survival against the forces of evil, and call the nation collectively to repentance for their neglect of God in the past. Garland's theology of Empire and war may now seem naive, but at the time in the face of Prusso-German "war theology" it was widely accepted among British, American and Continental theologians. That said, the Anzac commemoration we now experience, with all churches participating is only thinkable because of Garland's fervent patriotism and his ecumenical vision.

Apart for very few aficionados, the origin of Anzac Day is shrouded in mystery. Most people, if asked to think about it would probably answer that it was started by the Returned Services League. The very first Anzac Day Commemoration Committee was formed in Brisbane on 10th January 1916 at a public meeting chaired by the State premier, T.J. Ryan, with members of the Queensland State Recruiting Committee, religious leaders and the Governor. It was essentially a civilian initiative though the guest speaker was General James M'Cay, then recently returned from Gallipoli.2 He was mainly interested in keeping up recruitment in spite of the disaster of the recent campaign that had cost so many Brisbane and Toowoomba families

1 Previously published research papers relating to this topic by the present writer are: ‗Canon David John Garland and the ANZAC Tradition‘ St Mark‟s Review 154, Winter, 1993, pp. 12-21; ‗Anzac as Religious Revivalism: The Politics of Faith in Brisbane, 1916- 1939‘ in Mark Hutchinson and Stuart Piggin (eds), Reviving Australia, Sydney, Centre for the Study of Australian Christianity, 1994, pp. 170-84; ‗Canon David John Garland and the Problem of who Leads‘ [with Alex Kidd] in Episcopacy: Views from the Antipodes, Adelaide, Anglican Board of Christian Education, 1994, pp. 151-69; ‗Canon David John Garland (1864-1939) as Architect of Anzac Day‘ Royal Historical Society of Queensland Journal, vol. 17 no. 2, May 1999, pp. 49-64; ‗The Struggle for Anzac Day 1916-1930 and the Role of the Brisbane Anzac Day Commemoration Committee‘, Journal of the Royal Australian Historical Society, vol.88, no.1, 2002, pp. 54-74; ‗Was there an Anzac Theology?‘ Colloquium 35/1, 2003, pp. 3-13; ‗Anglicanism and Anzac Observance: the Essential Contribution of Canon David John Garland‘, Pacifica, vol. 19, 2006, pp. 58-77. 2 Moses, ‗Anglicanism and Anzac Observance‘ p. 63 213 the lives of their sons. M'Cay's point was that it did not suffice now to cheer from the sidelines those troops left who were to be sent to France for further fighting. Their numbers had to be kept up until the 'Prussian menace' had been disposed of. But the loss of so many Queensland men – they were the first ashore at Gallipoli – also suggested the idea of commemoration whereupon a member of the Recruiting Committee, one Thomas Augustine Ryan, (not to be confused with the premier) a Brisbane auctioneer whose son had served at Gallipoli, suggested that the April 25 be set aside for a day of solemn remembrance.3 Canon David Garland, the secretary of the committee, spoke eloquently in support of this idea, emphasizing that despite the failed campaign, the men had fought valiantly under appalling conditions and had demonstrated extraordinary character and devotion to duty, and ought therefore to be honoured. The meeting then unanimously elected the Dublin- born Canon Garland, an Anglican clergyman, who already had an extraordinary track record of public service, to convene an ADCC, and to design a liturgy of remembrance. 4 Garland's biography allows us to explain why he was best suited among the clergy of the time to devise the liturgy of Anzac commemoration. In particular this paper will give attention to the interaction between Garland's work with the ADCC and his particular conception of the religious comprehension of the Church of England. It will especially reconstruct the influence of the Toowoomba-based clergyman Canon Thomas Jones on shaping the theological traditions in Garland's mind which later shaped his work with the ADCC. Some attention to Garland's personal history is necessary. His family originated in county Monaghan, Ireland, and was emphatically Protestant, indeed of Orange persuasion. Indeed, it was on their farm that the local Orange meeting house was located.5 Garland's father, however, had left the farm to find work in Dublin. Here he became an employee of the renowned Trinity College where he worked, finally as a library assistant. It was here that his son, David John, was born in 1864. It has not yet proved possible to establish the details of Garland's education in Ireland though the family oral history suggests that he had been reading for the law as an articled clerk before he arrived in Queensland on the SS Jumna in 1883 at the age of 19. Virtually nothing is heard of the young immigrant until he appears in Toowoomba as a catechist for the rector of St James' city church there, namely the feisty Anglo-Catholic priest, Canon Thomas Jones who prepared Garland for ordination and in doing so inspired him to become an advocate of the Oxford Movement, a religious movement by then well- established in the Church of England. 6

3 Moses, ‗Anglicanism and Anzac Observance‘, p. 63. 4 In June 2005, Mr Roy Garland of Belfast drove the author to the Garland property at Monaghan in the Republic of Ireland where the meeting house of the Orange Lodge was located. The Lodge is now preserved as an exhibit in the open air museum outside of Belfast. 5 Shipping Records, Queensland State Archives. 6 On the Reverend Thomas Jones see Lyn Hodgson, St James 1869-2009 – St James‟ Toowoomba celebrates 140 Years, Toowoomba, St James‘ Parish, 2009, pp. 22-23, As well, see The Church Chronicle 1/7/1934, p. 205. 214

From his extant sermons over many years it is clear that Garland had undergone a conversion from the Orange Protestant tradition to Anglo- Catholicism without having abandoned his Bible-based Christianity. This point is the key not only to understanding Garland's priestly spirituality but most relevantly to understanding his conception of how best to commemorate the Anzacs. This conception is best grasped as a secular or ecumenical requiem . All soldiers of the British Empire in the Great War of 1914-18, regardless of their religious background, had been for Garland crusaders in the defence of British Christian civilization against the forces of the Antichrist personified by the Prussian-German emperor, Wilhelm II. Indeed, as a Protestant Irishman, Garland had long been an imperial patriot. From his Orange background he was already deeply immersed in the cause of Empire. It was a bulwark against Popery, and now in 1914 against Prussianism with its contempt for the rights of small nations, its rejection of parliamentary democracy and its barbaric mode of warfare. To be for the Empire and against Godless Prussianism was clearly one's inescapable Christian duty, and those who fell in the Empire's cause would be assuredly forgiven their sins and embraced in the arms of their Maker. Such was not solely Garland's war theology at that time.7 In order to understand his concept of commemoration endorsed he invited all religious leaders including the local Rabbi to participate in the deliberations of the ADCC. The ex-officio chairman was to be the premier of Queensland, and/s/he still is. Garland was undoubtedly the driving force, and he remained so until his death in 1939. A joint secretary, Captain E. R. B. Pike, had been appointed when Garland left in 1917 at the age of fifty-three to do chaplaincy work in Egypt with a brief from the then Minister of Defence, George Pearce, specifically to investigate the war graves situation and to report on troop welfare, especially the problem of venereal disease. On his own initiative, with money collected in Queensland, he also set up hostels for Anzacs in Cairo, Alexandria, Port Said, Jerusalem and Damascus. Garland even managed to accompany the Light Horse on expeditions against the Turks when he served with distinction among the wounded brought in from action. Indeed, he continued to make himself useful in various projects in the Middle East until early 1919. 8 All contemporary sources bear witness to Garland's essential shaping influence on the way in which Anzac Day was and has been observed in Australia ever since. The other ministers of religion on the ADCC clearly deferred to Garland as the one of their number who knew best how to plan a public event which amounted to a secular requiem for the fallen. Garland was arguably the most high-profile clergyman of any denomination, certainly in Queensland. We recall that prior to his arrival in the Brisbane diocese he had already served ten year s in Perth, first as Diocesan Secretary and sometime Administrator, then as chaplain to the Boer War contingent encamped in Fremantle. In addition, he edited the West Australian, functioned as a mission priest and trouble shooter to run-down parishes, and as well he became a staunch advocate for aboriginal emancipation. In

7 Moses, ‗Was there an Anzac Theology?‘, pp. 10-13. 8 Wendy Mansfield, ‗Anzac Day 1915-1937: Its Origins, its Culture and Political Mythology: A Queensland Perspective‘, B.A. Honours thesis, Departments of Government and History, 1979, p. 46. 215 addition, Garland led a successful campaign to have the state education act changed to allow Bible lessons to be conducted in government schools, and it is that which won him nation-wide acclaim, among Protestants at least.9 In all these matters Garland had made himself almost indispensible to the Diocese of Perth. I say almost, because such energetic clergy inevitably collide with their bishops who see in them and their various initiatives a threat to their authority. In Garland's case, while in Perth, he fell out seriously with his bishop, , a blunt Yorkshire man, who disapproved of Garland's Anglo-Catholic ritualism, but mostly one suspects, of his Irish temper, to which Riley's diary bears eloquent witness. 10 Garland had only one answer to any issue and that was inevitably the right answer. This character trait led to sharp clashes opinion with at least three of his bishops. But by virtue of his apparently boundless enthusiasm and organizational ability Garland's wishes frequently prevailed over his superiors'. His Brisbane archbishop, St Clair Donaldson, was later to refer to him as a 'Triton among the minnows', an ambiguous appellation no doubt combining reluctant recognition with a certain anxiety about Garland's volatility and potential for conflict. 11 As indicated, it was in Toowoomba that the young Orangeman came under the influence of the highly motivated Anglo-Catholic cleric, Canon Thomas Jones, If, as a historian, one has ears to hear and eyes to see, the encounter between the Bible-believing Orangeman and the proselytizing Anglo-Catholic zealot must have been of long-term efficacy - why? It is because Jones convinced the earnest Evangelical Irish youth of the comprehensive nature of the Church of England; it was both catholic and evangelical, giving equal emphasis to scripture and to the sacraments. Once convinced, Garland remained an ardent advocate of this idea for the rest of his life. One could not be a Christian without prioritizing the Word of God and at the same time elevating the sacraments, of which the Eucharist was the key component of Christian worship for the sacralising the world. Here the point is that two traditions coalesced in Garland; his Biblical faith and his muscular embrace of Anglo-Catholicism. This explains his life-long advocacy of Bible classes in government schools on the one hand, and on the other, his energetic promotion of Anzac Day as 'Australia's All Souls' Day', the day when the nation honoured its fallen. Those who gave their lives in the struggle against what was then regarded as the 'Prussian Menace', of which the German emperor was the incarnation, were veritable saints since they had made the supreme sacrifice in defending Christian civilization. Garland understood the British Empire as the bastion of genuine liberty. Under God it had the vocation to propagate and to defend that liberty against all putatively godless enemies. The supreme irony of the age was that many nations claimed to have God on their side, as did in

9 See John A. Moses with Alex Kidd, ‗Canon David John Garland and the Problem of Who Leads‘ in Alan H. Cadwallader (ed), Episcopacy – Views from the Antipodes, Adelaide, Anglican Board of Christian Education, 1994, pp. 151-60. 10 Riley‘s diary, held by the Battye Library in Perth, contains frequent, mostly negative references to Garland. The entries for the period 1987 to 1902 trace a remarkable deterioration in their relationship. 11 See Alex Kidd, ‗The Brisbane Episcopate of St Clair Donaldson 1904-1921‘ Ph. D. thesis, University of Queensland, 1996, pp. 192-229. 216 particular the Germans at the time (exemplified by the motto Gott mit uns).12 The crucial point, however, is that the Germans had a radically different idea of freedom from the British whose enduring contours had earlier been set by the liberal prime minister, William Ewart Gladstone, a devout member of the Church of England. He was convinced that God had called Great Britain to cultivate and bestow her constitutional freedoms on all those parts of the world over which the Union Jack flew, and upon which the sun never set, and to defend those freedoms when and wherever they were threatened. Although Gladstone was long dead by the outbreak of the Great War, Canon Garland admired Gladstone fervently and robustly advanced his ideas.13 Consequently, when, in the view of most British church men, the apostate Prussian-German Empire unleashed war in August 1914, Garland became a crusader for the cause of the British Empire; hence his promotion of recruitment and his energetic chaplaincy work among soldiers training in camp near Brisbane. In this regard he established the Soldiers' Church of England Help Society and launched a so-called 'Lavender Fund' to be raised from contributions from all Church of England parishes with the motto, 'Nothing is too good for our Soldier Boys'. The money was spent on recreation huts and providing creature comforts for all recruits regardless of denomination. There was, of course, a chapel, and troops were prepared for Confirmation which took place in the cathedral prior to embarkation. They were also given Prayer Books. The parish donations were listed every month in the Brisbane Church Chronicle. Garland consciously competed with the YMCA and the Salvation Army as he did not think these agencies were adequately equipped to take care of the spiritual needs of the troops.14 Before the Middle East experience, though, Garland had successfully promoted the establishment of Anzac Day in Brisbane and had urged the mayors of all Australian and New Zealand cities to follow suit. He had fashioned a mode of commemoration that derived clearly from the Orange custom of an annual march on the anniversary of the Battle of the Boyne (12 July, 1690) and the Catholic ritual of celebrating requiems for the dead; a quite remarkable confluence of what one would have thought were mutually exclusive traditions. Garland's conception of the comprehensive nature of the Church of England facilitated this convergence. In this regard one has to appreciate Garland's theological sensitivity in his proposals for the Anzac observance. Obviously, if all Australians had been members of the Church of England, the method of remembrance would have been straight-forward. One celebrated a requiem Eucharist. This practice actually happened on 10th June 1915 at St John's Cathedral, Brisbane, a time when the casualty lists from the Dardanelles were distressingly long. The newspapers published the names of the fallen and wounded every week, often with photographs. The Queensland public grieved, and Archbishop Donaldson was moved to celebrate a solemn Requiem Eucharist in the presence of the Governor and the consuls of

12 William R. Hutchison and Hartmut Lehmann, eds., Many are Chosen: Divine Election and Western Nationalism, Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 1994. 13 For Garland‘s views on Gladstone see The West Australian Church News, 17 December 1899, p. 157. 14 Moses, ‗Canon David John Garland and the Problem of who Leads‘, pp.164-67. 217

France and Russia. It was a Thursday morning; over 600 attended and one hundred communicated. We know this exactly because the details are entered in the Cathedral service register. That Eucharist was arguably the very first public commemoration in all of Australia for the Gallipoli fallen.15 It would have been very unusual for a man with Garland's background and sensitivity not to be acutely aware of the denominational theological differences that existed in the Australasian population and which could impinge upon even a secular requiem for the fallen. Coming from an 'Orange' family he of course would have been alive to the fact that in Australia there were many Irish people of Roman Catholic obedience besides those of different Protestant persuasions. In the Church of England the age old debate between those of Evangelical conviction with others of a more Catholic mind was an ever-present reality. How to reconcile all these traditions in a commemoration of fallen soldiers was a daunting challenge, but Garland was equipped, both by background and theological training, to meet and resolve this challenge. It is to be kept in mind that the ADCC comprised representatives of most mainstream denominations in Australia, and some of them had been serving chaplains in the field, and thus had often ministered to the dying and presided at burials. This common experience enabled them to cooperate in what must be recognized as a genuinely ecumenical enterprise. But then we have to be aware that serious non-negotiable theological differences divided them in peace time. It used to be said that there are no atheists in foxholes, and by the same token a ministering chaplain does not necessarily ask a dying soldier his denomination before administering the last rites. When soldiers die in combat pre-existing theological differences among them become irrelevant. A consultation of the files of the Brisbane ADCC indicates that all the chaplains on it were convinced of the need for a day of remembrance, and this was certainly not to be a day intended to glorify war. On the contrary, the emphasis was on the sin that gave rise to the evil of war and the consequent need for the nations to atone for that sin. One had also to remember with gratitude the sacrifice of young lives in the cause of freedom, and to console the bereaved parents, wives, sweethearts and siblings of the fallen, not to mention the needs of the wounded and maimed veterans. It was up to Garland and his committee to work out how this should be done, that is how 'Australia's All Souls' Day', as Garland termed it, should be celebrated, bearing in mind the variety of denominational traditions that had to be reconciled. On the Continent and in Roman Catholic countries generally, All Souls' Day is the day (2nd November) when all the faithful departed including fallen soldiers are commemorated. Certainly, in France the day was a public holiday. In Australia, Anglicans and Roman Catholics celebrate All Saints' and All Soul's Day, and there are churches and schools' dedicated to both these commemorations. 16

15 Moses, ‗Anglicanism and Anzac Observance‘, p. 61. 16 The author‘s own Anglican school in Charters Towers, North Queensland, is called ‗All Souls‘ School‘ and was founded as a war memorial school in 1920 by an English priest who later became Archbishop of Brisbane, namely Reginald Halse. I remember that we had to attend Mass two days in a row in that first week of November because All Saints‘ Day is the day before All Souls‘ Day. And, of course, on Anzac Day there was always a Requiem 218

All this was planned by the ADCC whose guidelines were followed throughout both Dominions. Canon Garland knew very well that Protestants could not pray for the dead and that Roman Catholics were forbidden to take part in any religious services at which non-Roman Catholic clergy were presiding. As well, there were Jews, atheists and agnostics among the participating troops to be taken into account. Consequently, the ADCC recommended that each denomination hold a service according to their own theological tradition, separately in their own churches, and that for the public service to be conducted afterwards at the war memorial, there would only be hymns used which, while they were clearly theistic, did not mention the Trinity. So what was sung, and these are still sung at the war memorials on ANZAC Day, were, 'O God our Help in Ages Past', 'O Valiant Hearts' and Kipling's ''. And when it came to remembering the fallen, Garland had devised the two minute's silence. The records of the ADCC are quite clear that Canon Garland conceived of the silence so that each person present could pray, or not pray, in accordance with the individual beliefs. But the main point was that all faiths were there together mourning the fallen in their own way, giving comfort to the bereaved and being encouraged to reflect on the sin of humanity that led to the scourge of war. In Garland's mind, all these elements were intended to gain expression in the ritual, and he hoped, as well, that the common experience of mourning would lead to a spiritual renewal of all participants, and cause people to refocus their lives on God. That is why he agitated for Anzac Day to be legally enshrined as a so-called close public holiday like Good Friday, and so it was. After a vigorous campaign lasting all through the 1920s Garland, with the solid support of the ADCC, lobbied throughout the Commonwealth and New Zealand for legislation to be enacted at both State level and federally that the 25th April be established as a close public holiday. Indeed each State, the Commonwealth as well as New Zealand, enacted the requisite legislation so that by 1930, Anzac Day had become the nation-wide close public holiday that Garland and his committee intended it to be. And that meant a day of very solemn recollection on which there were no hotels, cinemas or race courses open and no organized sports at all. Returned servicemen who lived within a 30 mile radius of Brisbane were allocated free rail passes on the day to come into town to attend the church services and to participate in the march. Afterwards, before retuning home, the veterans were given lunch at the various shire and church halls, prepared by the women's auxiliaries. 'Nothing was too good for our soldier boys'. Garland's contribution to the ADCC also encompassed his work as the assistant secretary to the mayor of Brisbane who chaired a committee to plan the city cenotaph. Each of the State capitals convened similar committees, and so a kind of competition developed throughout the Commonwealth as to which one would build the most impressive memorial, and how quickly. The files of that committee at the Brisbane City Council

Mass in chapel and we then, as cadets, with those of the other schools, marched through the town with the AIF and the veterans of the RSL to the war memorial in Gill Street for an inter-denominational service, and then to Lissner Park where the Boer War memorial is located. 219

Archives reveal the various proposals for a memorial that were submitted from various artists and architects, even one from Sir who designed the great cenotaph in Whitehall. His tender for Brisbane was, however, far too elaborate and expensive for the committee, and so they compromised, choosing the rotunda design in the middle of which is the 'Eternal Flame' that has been in place since 1930 in front of Brisbane's Central Station in Ann Street. Garland was the driving force for the building of fitting war memorials throughout Queensland, and in order to raise money for these an Anzac Day ribbon was sold, originally for one shilling, throughout the State. It was of lavender coloured silk embossed with the Lion of St Mark, because the 25th April is St Mark's Day, and under which stood the words, Audax ac Fidelis, 'bold but faithful'. And this is a distinctly Pauline admonition expressed in the first , chapter 3, verses 11 and 12: 'This was according to the eternal purpose which he has realized in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have boldness and confidence of access through our faith in him'. A further instance of the essential Christian element in Anzac commemoration is the Biblical verse 'Their Name Liveth'. This you will find inscribed on the 'Stone of Remembrance', an example of which is to be found in front of the in Canberra. Prior to the building of that Memorial, the ADCC in Brisbane had already, for Anzac Day 1924, established a 'Stone of Remembrance' in the Toowong Cemetery where some three hundred servicemen are interred, and the stands behind it. At the 11.00 am Solemn Eucharist in St John's Cathedra that Anzac Day, Garland was the preacher and he chose for his text, 'Their Name Liveth'. These words are from the book of Ecclesiasticus (Sirach), chapter 44. It begins: 'Let us now praise famous men and our fathers in their generation'. It goes on, in verses 13-15 to say: 'Their posterity will continue for ever, and their glory will not be blotted out. Their bodies were buried in peace, and their names live to all generations.'17 The piety expressed on that occasion may not be considered today as entirely theologically invulnerable, but it encapsulated the then current Anglo- Catholic theology of Anzac Day. We shall return to that sermon at the conclusion, but first it is necessary to take issue with current secular historiography of Anzac Day As has been demonstrated, the day was conceived as a religious event, but this has been ignored or challenged by a number of leading Australian secular historians, foremost among whom is Professor Ken Inglis. He wrote an extensive study entitled Sacred Places: War Memorials in the Australian Landscape that first appeared in 1998, and has now been re-issued. There you will find no mention of Canon Garland at all, and the reason is that Professor Inglis appears to be at pains to minimize the contribution of organized religion to the inauguration of Anzac Day. As well, it is implied that the men of the AIF had little time for Christianity. Anzac Day for Inglis and several others like him, was the result of the spontaneous desire of soldiers to remember their fallen comrades in the

17 Sermon by Canon Garland in St John‘s Cathedral at the Requiem Eucharist, Anzac Day 1924, published in the Anzac Book, published by the Anzac Day Commemoration Committee, Brisbane, 1924, pp. 5-6.

220 spirit of the Australian tradition and sentiment of 'mate-ship'. Men simply had an innate sense of the sacred. They even quoted the famous saying of Jesus, 'Greater love hath no man that this, than a man lay down his life for his friends' [John 15:13] without appreciating or acknowledging from where it comes. What is evident here is a certain skittishness on the part of these historians in recognizing that an essential part of being human is the undeniable spiritual dimension. Instead, what they appeal to is what has been called, 'Australian Sentimental Humanism', a readiness to believe something, but without theological rigor. None of them wish to confront this issue by taking cognisance of theology. Can one seriously affirm along with such an historian as Bill Gammage, for example, that Australian soldiers have not been influenced in their lives by the life of Jesus of Nazareth? It is significant that Inglis believes that war memorials are sacred places and that the rituals that take place every 25th April around them are a response to that sacredness. But nowhere does he attempt to define 'sacredness'. If there is spirituality here, it has nothing to do with Christianity. Inglis has chosen to ignore the work of the famous German theologian, Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy. It is suggested here that the most plausible explanation of what occurs on Anzac Day is to be found in Otto's famous study. Garland, as a priest, quite instinctively understood the need for a ritual, focused on a memorial, because he would have been daily through the recital of the Divine Office of Morning and Evening Prayer, as well as the celebration of the Eucharist or Mass, sensitized to the 'holy'. He would have had, as a dutiful priest, a highly developed sense of the numinous, a concept developed by Rudolf Otto, meaning the spiritual dimension of reality. His sermon at St John's Cathedral at the 11.00 am solemn Eucharist on Anzac Day 1924 refers expressly to the erection of the Cross of Sacrifice in Toowong cemetery already mentioned, saying:

The memorial in its noble dignity proclaims, as befits a Christian people, the great sacrifice of Calvary; and unites therefore the sacrifice of those who also laid down their lives for their friends. Its inscription is no less dignified than the memorial itself: Their Name Liveth for Evermore…[ He went on to express in characteristic fashion his theology of sacrifice]…On Anzac Day we gather collectively, and plead for them the Sacrifice of Calvary, to which they united themselves by offering their souls and bodies as a reasonable, holy and lively sacrifice, after the example of Him who by word and from the pulpit of the Cross taught that 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends'. Thus in the House of God, pleading at the Altar of God, we find the most comfort, not the sorrow of those without hope for them that sleep in Him, nor the swamping of our grief in noisy demonstrations; but by emphasizing in mind and thought the reality of that life beyond the veil where they live for evermore, and where some day we, too, shall meet them. Thus again there is no room for anything but a solemn observance of Anzac Day – the All Souls' Day of Australia – and so we come before God not in the bright vestments of festival and the joyous music of triumph; but with the tokens of Christian penitence and sorrow for the sin of

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the world which caused the sacrifice of those bright young lives, our dearest and our best.18

This point was the core of Garland's Anzac theology. In vain do we search for a explanation from any other source of why the day is sacred. But people in the 1920s and 1930s seem to have understood this. The premier of Queensland, William Gillies, at the unveiling ceremony in Toowong paid the following tribute to Canon Garland:

To the credit of the ADCC, of which body Canon Garland might well be described as the life and soul, Anzac Day has been observed in the State each year since the memorable landing on Gallipoli on 25th April, 1915.[…] Standing as we are today in the presence of the dead and their living friends and relatives, I feel it […] is an occasion for humility and reverence, for silence and thought.19

It has been indicated that Garland was the secretary of the Lord Mayor's sub-committee for the erection of the great Brisbane war memorial, completed in 1930. It has no overtly Christian symbols at all, yet the State Governor dedicated it in decidedly religious terms, namely to 'the hallowed memory of those who made the supreme sacrifice, whose souls we commend to Almighty God'. It is certainly a sacred place. Finally, Garland's vigorous efforts to hallow the memory of the fallen soldiers through the public ritual of Anzac Day was acknowledged in 1935 when he was awarded the Order of the British Empire. It was publically announced during the annual Synod of the Diocese of Brisbane by the then Bishop administrator, Horace Dixon. In his speech of reply, Garland said modestly that if he had ever achieved anything it was really due to the shaping influence that Canon Thomas Jones had exerted on him when he served in Toowoomba as Jones' catechist.20 Garland may well have emigrated from Dublin to Brisbane, but in the process he had also migrated from one theological tradition to quite another that led him to accomplish things he could never have imagined had he remained in Dublin. In assessing Canon Garland's career, the role of his Australian mentor must be seen as having been crucial.

18 Sermon by Canon Garland in St John‘s Cathedral at the Requiem Eucharist, Anzac Day 1924, published in the Anzac Book, published by the Anzac Day Commemoration Committee, Brisbane, 1924, pp. 5-6. 19 Address by the Hon. W.N. Gilles, then Acting Premier of Queensland at the Dedication of the Cross of Sacrifice and Stone of Remembrance in Toowong Cemetery, Anzac Day 1924 in The Anzac Book 1925, pp.5-6. Copy held in the Fryer Library, University of Queensland. 20 The Church Chronicle (1/7/1934) p. 205 222

Issues facing a colonial bishop Ronald Nicolson University of KwaZulu-Natal

The consecration of Edward Tufnell as first Bishop of Brisbane followed only six years after the consecration of John Colenso as first Bishop of Natal. A comparison of the issues faced is enlightening. Colenso‟s life and ministry was unusually controversial. His clash with his Dean and his senior Bishop of Capetown was a major factor in the calling of the first Lambeth Conference. Yet all of the controversies arose out of the issues which any Anglican bishop faced in bringing the church and the gospel to a new colonial context. This paper firstly considers the extent to which a bishop newly arrived in a colony could reasonably expect the colonists to follow or be interested in the intellectual debates of mid- Victorian England and secondly the degree to which a colonial bishop should respect and learn from the indigenous people who were being colonised. (Colenso believed that God was already present in Zulu culture.) Finally, it considers the extent to which a colonial bishop should engage in political issues regarding the treatment by the colonial government of the indigenous people. Colenso tried to do all of these things. In the process he offended many who, if he had limited his aims to any one of the three, might have supported him.

One hundred and fifty years ago in September of this year Edward Tufnell arrived as first Bishop of Brisbane, and Brisbane became the fifth Diocese of the Anglican Church in Australia as Queensland became a British colony. Let me start by saying that as someone who is not Australian I know almost nothing about Australian church history. I grew up and have served almost all my life in what was another colony, the Colony of Natal, which has long described itself as the last outpost of the British Empire. But it happens that it is 156 years since the first Bishop of Natal arrived to take up office in the newly established Colony and I thought it might be of interest if I were to set out some of the challenges that faced a colonial bishop in Natal and to examine how life and ministry in any way mirrors that of Brisbane's first bishop. Anglicanism in Australia is a little older than Anglicanism in South Africa. Although the Cape had been colonized by Europeans since 1656, much longer than Australia, it only became a British colony in 1801. The first colonial chaplains, like colonial chaplains in Australia, fell under the somewhat distant authority of the Bishop of Calcutta. Whereas Bishop Broughton became first Bishop of Australia in 1836, it would be another 11 years before Robert Gray was consecrated first Bishop of Cape Town. By the time Bishop Tufnell was consecrated there were already four dioceses in Australia. William Colenso, first Bishop of Natal, came as only the second bishop in what would become South Africa. He came, as did Bishop Tufnell, to what was a separate self-governing colony. South Africa would not come into existence as a single country for another 56 years. When Bishop Tufnell arrived there were only three Anglican clergy in his new diocese although he brought six with him. He would have had to cover a vast area, by horse and cart. So too when Colenso arrived In Natal there were but three clergy to care for some 6000 colonists. He was

223 responsible for an area from the borders of the Cape Colony to the borders of Mozambique, including the territory of Zululand. Both Tufnell and Colenso were Englishmen. Colenso's pastoral experience was of a country parish in Norfolk. He came from a poor family, was an exhibitioner at Cambridge, and married a little above his social station. What would both bishops have faced, as Englishmen coming to a strange land? Huge distances. Little or no infrastructure. Tedious means of transport. A colonial government which was still to some degree answerable to England and the Privy Council. Colonists who were probably mostly agriculturalists. An aboriginal people to be evangelized, for colonization and evangelism went together. But here the differences may become more marked. The aboriginal people in Queensland were relatively few in number, mostly organized in small clans, militarily weak, culturally attuned to a nomadic rather than a pastoral lifestyle. Colenso came to a Diocese where the Zulus were numerous, where Shaka's military campaigns had already created a strong kingdom. The Zulus were a pastoral people, in direct competition with the incoming white colonial farmers. Both bishops were not the first in the mission field. As far as I can judge it seems that Catholic missionaries were already very active in Queensland by 1860. For Colenso, his missionary predecessors were not Catholics (who came a little later to Natal and Zululand) but missionaries from the American Board of Missions, largely a Congregationalist society, and the Swedish Lutherans. Anglican missionary work was slow to start in South Africa. Anglicanism in the Cape and in Natal began as a ministry to the Colonists, not to the native people. There were difficult questions to be faced. Where would the new bishops' primary pastoral duties lie? Towards the colonists? Or towards the evangelization of the indigenous people? As well, Colenso encountered the issue of what attitude should missionaries take to the pre-existing culture and religion. Was it something to be set aside as primitive and evil? What attitude should the missionaries take to the colonial authorities? Missionaries, by virtue of their work, lived on the margins of the colony, closer to the people whom they sought to evangelize. In times of conflict, with whom should their loyalties lie? There had been cases in the Eastern Cape where missionaries were virtually colonial spies, quick to run to army authorities with any whisper of native uprising. Bishop Gray had agreed to accept money from the Governor, another Grey, Sir George Grey, to establish mission stations in the Eastern Cape to pacify and civilize the dangerous amaXhosa. Sir George had used this method successfully, as he thought, in New Zealand to pacify the Maoris, and was anxious to use the missions in the same way in the Cape. Bishop Gray was a keen participant. Evangelization was a means of pacification and peaceful conquest. For Colenso there was no argument about his primary duties. While no doubt he intended to provide ministry to the colonists, he chose to live an hour's ride on horseback from the capital city so as not to be too closely associated with them. He almost immediately set about learning the Zulu language and correcting the earlier attempts at a Zulu grammar and orthography which other non-Anglican missionaries had begun. His commitment was to evangelize and civilize (the two terms were almost interchangeable) the Zulus.

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Almost immediately he antagonized those other missionaries. He soon antagonized the colonists. He antagonized the colonial government. The senior priest in the Diocese, who would eventually become dean, became also his strongest enemy. And in consequence he faced his battles virtually alone, except for the Zulus who loved him and called him Sobantu, the father of the people. No doubt some of it was his fault. His personality, as far as can be judged, was that of a prickly man and not one to work easily with others. Some of it was the bloodymindedness of ignorant colonists who quickly rebelled against him for what they regarded as high church practices. Colenso could not have been less Anglo-Catholic; their ire was due to the fact that he wore a surplice when conducting services, and that he abolished pew rental on the basis that churches should be free for anyone. But mostly the differences arose because of different ways of approaching evangelism. The questions which faced Colenso, as he saw them, were what was the status before God of the heathen Zulus and their culture; to what extent should a missionary expose potential converts to the intellectual difficulties and disagreements within the Church and how far did the responsibility of the missionary lie – was it his or her duty to simply bring the convert to faith in Christ, or did the missionary have a duty to become involved in the social and political battles faced by converts and by the indigenous people generally. Colenso, unlike some other missionaries, believed that to some extent in their culture Zulu people already knew God. This was part of his belief in natural theology. They were not people sunk in darkness. Although as a Victorian Colenso used what would now be deeply offensive terms to describe his new charges – kaffirs, savages – he quickly developed a degree of respect for their culture. Where previous missionaries to the Zulus had preferred to use imported words for the name of God (uThixo, or uDeo), lest the converts confuse the Christian God with their 'heathen deities', Colenso chose to use the Zulu word uNkulunkulu (although he may have been mistaken in the meaning of the word). He wished to proclaim that the God whose message he brought was the God who had always been with the Zulu people. Other missionaries insisted that if a man was converted and baptized he had to put away all his wives except the first wife. Colenso perceived the enormous social upheaval this would cause as disinherited second and third wives lost all status, and suggested that a polygamous man could be baptized without putting his wives away – but could not take further wives, and if baptized before taking any wives could only take one wife. Other missionaries opposed the payment of lobola, the brideprice to be paid to the parents of the bride. Colenso preferred to let custom take its place. Colenso refused to believe the penal theory of the atonement, meaning that only those who have accepted Jesus as Saviour are are to be saved while all other unconverted people must face damnation. This brought him into conflict over the significance of baptism. There are differing views about Colenso's attitude to baptism, but it is clear that he believed that all people are God's children, all can be saved, and that baptism is an assurance and an acceptance of an ongoing relationship with God which begins before baptism.

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Colenso was not much interested in personal conversions. He strove to convert not individuals but tribes. He sought to Christianize the whole culture and society of the Zulu, rather than to make men within that society conform to the patterns of the society of the Church.1 In his dealings with the Zulu people, Colenso came to see that as well as being their teacher he was also a learner. Early in his ministry he employed one William Ngidi, initially as a wagon driver but soon as an interpreter and translator. The famous story is that Ngidi one day asked Colenso if he really believed that all the animals in the world had fitted into Noah's ark. Colenso is supposed to have suddenly realized that in fact he did not believe the story of the flood in literal detail. The reality is more complex than that. Before he came to Africa, Colenso had already met with the growing tide of higher Biblical Criticism coming out of Germany. Encouraged by his wife, he had long been a fervent admirer of F.D. Maurice. He was already very much in the Broad Church camp. This was already a point of difference between Colenso and Bishop Gray or the dean of his Cathedral, both of whom were influenced by the emergent Oxford Movement igniting churchmen in England. Where other missionaries presented a sanitized gospel to those whom they sought to convert, depending on their own preferences, as if all Christians took all of the Bible as literal truth, or as if all Christians were High Church Anglicans or solid Lutherans, Colenso seemed to believe that converts did not need to be shielded from the intellectual difficulties and differences in the Christian tradition. In fact, because no record exists of his Zulu sermons, we are not sure what Colenso preached about to the Zulus. Perhaps he fell into the same trap, and presented the gospel in a mirror image of himself as if all Christians were Broad Church Anglicans. What we do know is that he did not shirk from exposing his English-speaking listeners to the controversies raging in Europe and England. His encounter with Zulu people and his attempts to bring the Bible to them underlined for him the fact that the Bible could not be taken as literally true in all respects. His sermons were long and scholarly. One wonders what the worthy farmers made of them. He wasted no time in publishing his views. Within seven years of arriving in his new diocese, Colenso published St Paul's letter to the Romans: Newly translated and explained from a missionary point of view. 2 He attacked the idea of penal substitutionary atonement. A year later in The Pentateuch and book of Joshua critically examined, he attacked the idea that Moses wrote all the books of the Pentateuch or that the stories of the Pentateuch and the numbers, ages, sizes in those stories could possibly be literally true. Was it wise to push his views so aggressively? Was it wise for a bishop to raise questions best left to scholarly disputes? His books were indeed somewhat ponderous, unnecessarily detailed, perhaps unnecessarily adversarial. Yet the views he expressed were hardly novel. After all,

1 Peter Hinchliffe, The Anglican Church in South Africa , Darton Longman and Todd, London, 1963, p. 61. 2 John W. Colenso, St Paul‟s letter to the Romans: newly translated and explained from a missionary point of view, Cambridge, MacMillan, 1861. John W. Colenso, The Pentateuch and the Book of Joshua critically examined: Part 1, London, Longman Green, 1862. 226

Essays and Reviews was already in the public domain. But virtually nobody in England supported him. FD Maurice was so embarrassed to be associated with Colenso that he cut off all contact. Timothy Larsen details how widespread the rejection of Colenso's books from all sides was in England at the time.3 His books and his views expressed in sermons and letters caused Dean Green of his cathedral, to seek to depose him and Bishop Gray eventually to cite him for heresy. Gray, for all his devotion and hard work, was not a scholar. He also came from a mildly high church background. Green was a fervent follower of the Oxford Movement. There could be no common ground between them and Colenso. Today his views would perhaps be widely acceptable and in many ways they prefigure 20th century biblical criticism as much as they are indebted to 19th century German exegesis. Even in his own day those views, if not widespread, were not revolutionary. But Colenso was a bishop much as John Robinson in a later generation would incur fury for expressing views commonly held in academia but unacceptable if said by a bishop. For a bishop to question the literal truth of the Bible was heresy indeed. England was in a time of some ferment regarding the truth of traditional religious claims. Darwin's Origin of species had just been published. Essays and Reviews had also just been published. Faithful Christians, other bishops, the Church of England, were disturbed and uneasy. Should Colenso have remained silent and allow the scholars to say what he believed in his heart but kept unsaid out of concern for upsetting the faithful? Should Colenso have got on with his task of establishing a new diocese in a new country and left fashionable intellectual debates to others? But for Colenso, the 'faithful' were not just the worthy colonial famers who did not read nor care about German scholarship, but the as yet unchurched Zulu people who would not accept the Gospel if required to believe what to them was patently nonsense. Zulus, for Colenso, were not merely ignorant savages who would swallow any old fairy tale. Colenso took the views of his 'unlettered savages' as worthy of serious consideration. And although stuck in the faraway colonies far from Cambridge and the debates in English academia, Colenso could not cut himself off from intellectual concerns. The near hysteria which greeted his books in England and the rejection of them by all strata of the Church of England – high church, evangelical, broad church – was perhaps fuelled not only by the general unease in the Church at the time with Darwinism and Higher Criticism, but by the fact that Colenso was a mere colonial bishop, and one who had been unduly influenced by ignorant savages. A crude jingle of the time ran thus:

A Bishop there was of Natal, Who took a Zulu for a pal Said the Kafir, 'Look 'ere, Ain't the Pentateuch queer? And converted the Lord of Natal. 4

3 Timothy Larsen, ‗Bishop Colenso and his critics‘, in Jonathan Draper (ed.), The eye of the storm , London, T&T Clark, 2003. 4 Anon. 227

Bishops were not meant to listen to those whom they had been sent to convert! And 'kafirs' should not question their betters. I will not dwell here on his trial for heresy. There are those who allege that the trial was illegal and rigged. 5 The trial was closely associated with the calling of the first Lambeth Conference. Gray, together with the bishops of Bloemfonten and Grahamstown, found Colenso guilty of heresy on nine counts, and Colenso was deposed. Colenso appealed to the Privy Council in London. The Privy Council, without ruling on the charges of heresy, ruled that since Colenso had been appointed under letters patent by Queen Victoria, Gray had no powers to deprive him of his rights as Bishop of Natal. Only the Queen could do that, and she declined to intervene. So Colenso continued as Bishop of Natal. A few white clergy supported him. Most did not. He continued to conduct services in his Cathedral Church of St Peter. His dean, Dean Green, after various unseemly brushes where each side locked the other out of the Cathedral, retreated and built a second cathedral. Bishop Gray appointed another bishop, Bishop Macrorie, as Bishop of Maritzburg, and the tiny town of Pietermaritzburg had two cathedrals and two bishops. Many years later, Colenso and Macrorie providentially died at much the same time and the rift was largely healed. Nearly all of the Colenso parishes agreed to join the newly established Church of the Province of South Africa. A new Bishop of Natal was appointed, and today there is but one Cathedral, built on the grounds of Colenso's old cathedral where Colenso still lies buried before the altar. Colenso saw his responsibilities stretching far beyond bringing his converts to faith in Christ. He needed to empower them. At his mission station outside Pietermaritzburg6, Ekukhanyeni, the 'place of light', he sought to establish an industrial school and also a diocesan college where young Zulu men could be trained to become, he hoped, doctors and teachers and lawyers. There were no schools for Zulu children at that time. In fact there were hardly any schools for any children, white or black. His attempts to establish educational institutions for the Zulus were only partially successful. The industrial school never happened. The Diocesan College did open, and the Secretary of State for Native Affairs in the Natal Colonial Government, Sir Theophilus Shepstone, encouraged (not to say forced) the amakhosi or chiefs to send their eldest sons to the College. Most especially, the eldest son of Mpande, the Zulu King, was enrolled. But it proved difficult to find teachers who could teach in both the English and Zulu languages. The school took up so much of Colenso's time that he could not give proper attention to other duties. Five years after it started, there was a perceived threat of a Zulu rebellion against colonial rule. The Governor feared that having the son of the King at the school would endanger nearby farms, especially since Mpande's younger son, Ceteswayo, sought to succeed his father instead. The sons of the amakhosi were summarily sent home and the school was no more.

5 Draper, The eye of the storm, 2003, p.324. Also Jeff Guy, The Heretic: a study of the life of John William Colenso, University of Natal Press, Pietermaritzburg 1983. 6 In those days the original Dutch name of Pietermaritzburg was almost always shortened to Maritzburg. The etymology of the name is uncertain. 228

Colenso's long friendship with Theophilus Shepstone was to end with the Langalibalele affair. Shepstone, born and bred in Natal, spoke Zulu fluently. He too respected and liked the Zulus – provided they accepted their place as a colonized people. Initially he and Colenso shared many interests in common. But the Langalibalele affair broke the friendship. Langalibalele was the inkosi or chief of the amaHlubi tribe – themselves refugees from the Zulu kingdom, who had been resettled in Natal. The local magistrate, alarmed by the growing power of the amaHlubi, insisted that they hand in all of their firearms. Rather than comply, the amaHlubi attempted to escape across the border into neighbouring Basutoland (now Lesotho). The colonial forces intercepted them, and in a brief battle some white soldiers were killed. This ignited all of the colonists' fears. Technically at this time Zululand was still an independent kingdom and had not been annexed into the Colony. But for the still small band of colonists the fear of a Zulu uprising was ever present. Although the amaHlubi were, strictly speaking, not part of the Zulu nation, for them to kill white soldiers raised the threat of that uprising. In retribution, all of the cattle of the amaHlubi were confiscated leaving them destitute, and Langalibalele was found guilty of treason in a somewhat rigged colonial court where the Governor was both prosecutor and judge. Far exceeding its powers, the court sentenced Langalibalele to lifetime banishment to Robben Island (where many years later Nelson Mandela would also be incarcerated) Colenso protested the injustice vigorously, not only to the colonial authorities but also to the British government. The British government consequently recalled the Governor, remitted Langalibalele's sentence, and sent a special commissioner to investigate. The humiliated Natal colonial government was furious that Colenso had appealed to Britain, and that in consequence the colony would not receive full self-governing status for some time. The colonists were furious that Colenso had sided with the Zulus who posed, as they saw it, such a threat to them7. They genuinely feared a Zulu uprising, and in their eyes their fears were justified five years later with the outbreak of the Anglo-Zulu war and the disaster, for Britain, of the battle of Isandlwana where a British force was temporarily defeated with over 1000 soldiers killed. Colenso became totally isolated from white settlers and clergy and remained thus to the end of his life. Bishop Tufnell remained in Brisbane for 15 years before returning to Sussex. Bishop Colenso remained in office for 30 years. He did not return to England but died and was buried in Natal, where his wife and daughters continued to defend the Zulu people with numerous appeals to British authorities. As a colonial bishop he sought to serve those who had been colonized. Nevertheless it would be a mistake to see Colenso as a modern liberation theologian. He was in many ways a man of his time. His indignation with the injustice of the Langalibalele trial was motivated not just by a sense of justice but by a deep-seated conviction that the Governor's

7 As an illustration of the mindset, Maritzburg College, the school which I attended, a famous South African institution, has as its badge a spear and a rifle intercrossed, the colours are black , white, and red for the blood shed between them, and the motto Pro aris et focis, for our altars and hearths. 229 behaviour and that of Shepstone was not fitting for an English gentleman and would bring the Empire into disrepute. Despite his respect for Zulu culture his evangelization was intended to make them more like the English. He had no interest in the political independence of the Colony, nor of the Zulu kingdom. He was happy for Britain to exert a paternalistic and benevolent control over both colonists and Zulus. He certainly had no interest in the foundation of a South African church independent of the Church of England. But for all that, there is no doubt that Colenso saw himself as much more than a colonial chaplain in bishop's orders. He saw his primary duty as being the care of the indigenous people. Was his mission successful? Not at the time. As a result of the dispute with Bishop Gray the Anglican church in Natal was seriously weakened. Since Colenso and his Diocese had more or less collared Anglican mission work amongst the Zulus in Natal, the Zulu-speaking part of the Diocese, even after the reconciliation, remained weak and is still weak. Nobody in the Church took Colenso's views seriously or learned from him for another century or more. As recently as 1963, Peter Hinchliffe, more or less the official historian of the Church of the Province of Southern Africa at the time, still regarded Colenso as guilty of heresy and his mission as a heroic but misguided failure.8 But today, many if not all missionaries would agree that their task is not to take God to the heathen but to show the heathen more fully the God who is already present with them. Today Biblical criticism has moved on far beyond Colenso. And in its gradually stronger opposition to the injustices of apartheid in the latter part of the twentieth century the Anglican Church in South Africa from Archbishop Clayton to Archbishop Tutu surely took Colenso as its model.

8 Hinchliffe, The Anglican Church in South Africa, 1963. 230

The 'Chosen People': Religion and the Formation of Identity. The Afrikaners – A Case Study, 1880-1938

Sheilagh Ilona O'Brien University of Queensland

Kant and Berger argue that religion plays a seminal role in determining societies. For colonial Afrikaner society, the basic religious building blocks were and mid-nineteenth century missionary revivalism. These, along with foundation, or „creation‟ myths, provided the base upon which Afrikaner society was built. This paper will firstly examine the role of religion in society according to Kant and Berger, and secondly the role of some ideas. It especially considers the development of a deontic framework for social norms, the role of religion in inspiring myth and symbology, and how those contribute to the construction of ethnic identity. The colonial base included an emphasis on particular biblical stories and Calvinist doctrines, particularly the doctrine of Election which, combined with the creation myth of the divine covenant, created the myth of the „Chosen People‟. Creation stories often occupy key positions in religion, and can also be seminal in nationalist development. Because Afrikaners had a worldview and an identity grounded in religious and ethnic myths, which provided them with an „absolute‟ cosmos, Calvinist theology fused with Afrikaner nationalist theology in the mid-twentieth century. Afrikaners confirmed their certainty of their past, present and future through religious doctrine, ethno-religious mythology, and acts of social confirmation.

My brethren and fellow countrymen, at this moment we stand before the holy God of heaven and earth, to make a promise, if He will be with us and protect us, and deliver the enemy into our hands so that we may triumph over them, that we shall observe the day and the date as an anniversary in each year, and a day of thanksgiving like the Sabbath, in His honour; and that we shall enjoin our children that they must take part with us in this, for remembrance even for our posterity; and if anyone sees a difficulty in this let him retire from this place. For the honour of His name will be joyfully exalted, and to Him the fame and the honour of the victory must be given.1

Afrikaner society was still in its formative stages in the nineteenth century, and the events of that century would cement the foundations of Afrikaner identity as inherently Calvinist, Afrikaans-speaking, and desirous of cultural and economic independence from the cultural and religious traditions of the British Isles. The belief in the need for a separate, independent identity was fuelled by beliefs in the election and divine sanction of the Afrikaner

1 The Vow or Covenant at Blood River, 1838 as remembered by Sarel Cilliers, recorded by H.F. Hofstede, 1876 231 people, and by the attempts of the British to anglicise the Afrikaners, including the propagation of the Anglican Church in South Africa. An independent identity, and the economic and political power to reinforce that identity, became central to Afrikaner political and social efforts during the early twentieth century. Mythology, symbology and discourse, both political and social, and heavily influenced by Afrikaner Calvinist theology and biblical stories, laid the foundation of what T. Dunbar Moodie described as the 'civil religion' of the Afrikaners. 'Civil' because it extended beyond the confines of religious theology in a secular state, into what might be called the civil part of a nominally secular, western state's society; and religious because it formed part of a complex network of communal identity formation and confirmation which grounded itself rhetorically not only in the Dutch Calvinist Reformed religion, but also in biblical mythology. Afrikaners believed themselves to have been chosen, as the Israelites of the Old Testament were chosen, and they, like the Israelites, would have trials of faith, and triumphs of belief. This belief in their own divine destiny sustained Afrikaner identity and nationalism, and eventually was part of the social framework that gave rise to apartheid and sustained it for forty years. This paper will firstly outline the place of religion in the historiography of Afrikanerdom. Secondly it will explore the role of religion in society, drawing primarily upon the works of sociologist Peter Berger. Thirdly, it will examine how religiously inspired myth and symbology contribute to the construction of ethnic identity. Finally, this paper will discuss in detail the extent to which religious, or religiously inspired, myths and symbology contributed to the formation of Afrikaner identity, with particular reference to the place of the 'Covenant' and the Calvinist doctrine of 'Election' in the development of a deontic framework for social norms in late nineteenth and early twentieth century South Africa.

The Chosen People: Historiography of Afrikaner Society and Religion Early nationalist histories of South Africa from an Afrikaner perspective, such as Die Geskiedenis van ons Land in die Taal van ons Volk (1875), produced by S.J. du Toit and the Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners, 2 or C.W. Van der Hooght's work The Story of the Boers (1900),3 contain a series of stories about Afrikaner experiences in South Africa, particularly during the nineteenth century. These works emphasise what Mads Vestergaard called a Christian-national history which stressed that 'God made the Afrikaners his Chosen People by leading them through immense suffering at the hands of the British, and by giving them victory over the heathen blacks.'4 Vestergaard goes on to argue that these histories lent 'substance to the nationalists' sense of themselves'.5 An emphasis on

2 S.J. du Toit, ed., Die Geskiedenis van ons land in die taal van ons volk, published in 1875 by the Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners in Paarl. 3 C.W. Van der Hooght, The Story of the Boer: Narrated by their own Leaders, New York, Harper, 1900. 4 Mads Vestergaard, ‗Who‘s got the map? The Negotiation of Afrikaner Identities in Post- Apartheid South Africa‘, Daedalus, 130, 2001, p. 24. This victory most likely refers to the events at Bloedrivier in December, 1838. 5 Vestergaard, ‗Who‘s got the map?‘, p.24. 232 national suffering was a common method politicians used to build a rhetorical rapport6 between Afrikaner political parties and Afrikaners, particularly when it could be linked to the mythic past and biblical allegories.7 In later analysis and historiography, this point leads to an emphasis on the content of Afrikanerdom's mythic past, and the particular way in which the history of the Afrikaners was written in the late-nineteenth and early twentieth-centuries. Religion and biblical allegory were also used frequently by politicians during the pre-Apartheid period, and consequently have been closely scrutinised by historians. Some, like W.A. de Klerk and J. Alton Templin, see the roots of the religious tone of Afrikaner nationalism as stemming from the level of religious belief, and from the central role religious leaders often played in Afrikaner politics,8 Susan Rennie Ritner argues that Afrikaner Calvinism was responsible for the ideological origins of apartheid. For example Susan Rennie Ritner produced work which criticised the stance of the Dutch Reformed Church (DRC) on racial relations and segregation, and particularly the way in which the Church was 'subsumed' by the apartheid state,9 without examining the socio-cultural imperatives behind why the state, and members of the church hierarchy and laymen acted as they did, notably in contrast to the anti-apartheid actions of the Anglican Church. On the other hand, the work of Andre du Toit on the Dutch Reformed Church and divine election in Afrikaner political thought in the nineteenth-century, has discredited the simplistic argument that Afrikaner nationalism was a derivative of Afrikaner Calvinism.10 More nuanced readings of the role of religion have argued that the relationship between Afrikaner society, religion, state and identity- formation is far more complex than Ritner, or even du Toit, argued. Johan Kinghorn, in his discussion of identity and religion, proposes the idea that the religious approach to Afrikaner nationalism, (both among the nationalists in the early twentieth century and then as a trend in the historiography)11 was because of its role in creating a 'social cosmology'. Social cosmology creates 'terms of reference' as guidance both for the

6 Johan Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology, Religion and Afrikaner Ethnicity‘, Journal of South African Studies 20, 3, 1991, pp.397-398. 7 L.M. Thompson, The Political Mythology of Apartheid , New Haven, Yale University Press, 1985, pp.6-8, pp12-14. 8 J. Alton Templin, ‗God and the Covenant in the South African Wilderness,‘ Church History 37, 3, 1968, pp.281-297; W.A. de Klerk, Puritans in Africa: A story of Afrikanerdom, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1976, pp.204-208. 9 Susan Rennie Ritner, ‗The Dutch Reformed Church and Apartheid,‘ Journal of Contemporary History, 2 4, 1967, p.20, pp.36-37. Ritner proposes that this occurred because the church had for many years supported segregation, not only of its own services, but in all spheres of South African society. For a rebuttal of Ritner see Andre Du Toit, ‗Puritans in Africa? Afrikaner ‗Calvinism‘ and Kuyperian Neo-Calvinism in Late Nineteenth-Century South Africa,‘ Comparative Studies in Society and History, 27, 1985, pp209-240, and Hexham, ‗Dutch Calvinism,‘ pp.195-208. 10 du Toit, ‗Puritans in Africa?‘, pp.234-235. 11 See Irving Hexham, ‗Dutch Calvinism and the Development of Afrikaner Nationalism,‘ African Affairs, 79 no. 315 (Apr. 1980), pp.195-208, or Andre du Toit, ‗No Chosen People: The Myth of the Calvinist Origins of Afrikaner Nationalism and Racial Ideology,‘ The American Historical Review, 88 no. 4, 1983, pp.920-952. 233 individual to act by and to measure the actions of others;12 what might be called societal norms of behaviour. These are in particular translated through the use of creation myths which play such a pivotal role in religion.13 Leonard M. Thompson also recognises the pivotal role of mythology in identity formation, in particular arguing that culture can become a potent weapon in the hands of populist politicians. Myth, he argues, is at the centre of political manipulation of culture to create an image of political continuity. T. Dunbar Moodie argues that in the case of the Afrikaners their religiously inspired mythology and symbology became the heart of what he describes as a 'civil religion', and he points to the 'neo-Fichtean social- philosophical framework'14 which he argues young students returning from fascist Europe brought with them to South Africa in the 1930s and 1940s15. These notions of romantic nationalism and national heritage tied to an ethnic people are evident in the rhetoric employed by Afrikaner nationalists, and Moodie suggests these essentially nationalist ideas became intertwined with the biblical-interpretation of Afrikaner history. The most impressive and convincing of the works on the role of religion in the development of Afrikaner identity is the theory-based interpretation of Johan Kinghorn, Professor of Theology at Stellenbosch University, who firmly places his conclusions within a clear interpretive framework. Kinghorn draws on the works of philosophers such as Immanuel Kant, and social theorists such as Peter Berger, to create a sociological basis for his argument that religion and nationalism were not integral to Afrikanerdom. Rather, he argues that the emphasis placed on religion and nationalism by early twentieth-century Afrikaners was because they were a people in desperate need of something to hold onto as first imperialism, and then modernity, shattered their communities.16 Kinghorn addresses the mythologising of Afrikaner history as a necessary step in a social process which was instigated by a belief that Afrikanerdom's very survival was in peril.17 W.A. de Klerk, though not as overt in his theoretical outline as Kinghorn, is following the same approach of seeking historical, socio- religious, answers for the peculiarities of the development of Afrikaner society. De Klerk's The Puritans in Africa: A Story of Afrikanerdom, posits that 'within a man-made conceptual framework, I am necessarily held captive....'18 Like Ritner, he explores the history of Afrikanerdom as a

12 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology, Religion and Afrikaner Ethnicity,‘ p.395. 13 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology, Religion and Afrikaner Ethnicity,‘ pp.395-396. This paper argues one of these ‗myths‘ concerns the events of the Great Trek, in particular the Battle at Bloedrivier, and the ‗Covenant‘ made with God prior to the battle. 14 T. Dunbar Moodie, The Rise of Afrikanerdom: Power, Apartheid and the Afrikaner Civil Religion, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1975, x. 15 Moodie also traces the role of religious philosophy and the way in which it interacted with neo-Fichtean principles with particular reference to Kuyperian neo-Calvinism, see Moodie, The Rise of Afrikanerdom, pp.99-100. 16 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology, Religion and Afrikaner Ethnicity,‘ p395, p402. See Berger, The Sacred Canopy, p.27; and Peter Berger, Facing up to Modernity: excursions in Society, Politics and Religion, New York, Basic Books, 1977. 17 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology, Religion and Afrikaner Ethnicity,‘ pp. 395-396; Berger, The Sacred Canopy, p19, p.177. 18 de Klerk, Puritans in Africa, p.344. 234 religious history, but as his subtitle 'A Story of Afrikanerdom' suggests, this is not the only way the Afrikaner story could or should be written. De Klerk examines the role of religion against the backdrop of change in society, in particular the enormous and drastic changes that industrialisation brought to South Africa, and particularly to the Afrikaners.19 Saul Dubow has also worked on different aspects of the place of western religious thought in discussions of Afrikaner nationalism,20 and emphasises the constructed nature of Afrikaner nationalist symbology and rhetoric:21

Once regarded as the stubborn legatee of a fundamentalist Calvinist tradition dating back to the earliest days of white settlement, the Nationalist government is now seen - with rather more justification - as a canny practitioner of Realpolitik, which may be prepared to surrender its abstract commitment to the unity of the volk in the broader interests of defending white power and privilege. This view accords far more closely with historical reality than the mythologized notion of God-fearing Afrikaners engaged in an unrelenting pursuit of an unrealizable vision. Indeed, seen in these terms, the zealous fervour associated with the construction of Christian-national philosophy in the I930s and 40s appears as an exceptional episode in Afrikaner history. The important work of O'Meara and others has done much to demystify the rise of Afrikaner nationalism by discussing this process in terms of class formation. But it would be mistaken to view Afrikaner nationalist ideology purely in instrumental terms. Christian-national theory can only be fully understood within the terms of its own cognitive reality and by reference to its internal logic.22

Dubow was part of a later wave of historians who understood that it was not the rhetorical or political links that were of use to historians, but a deeper understanding of how and why Afrikaner society evolved as it did, and the way in which Afrikaners and Afrikaner society as a whole reacted to and interacted with external forces and discourses. Ethno-nationalist interpretations, whether they be narrative histories or, social, religious, or liberal interpretations, all share the common theme of often taking the discourses of Afrikaner nationalism as the origin for much of their analysis.23 Such interpretations, particularly by the liberal school, can ignore or sideline the economic advantages of segregationist or apartheid policies for many Afrikaners. Marxist works, while ignoring the

19 Note, in 1910 only some 29% of the Afrikaner population lived in urban areas. By 1960 that number had changed dramatically and 75% of Afrikaners were living in urban areas, Giliomee, The Afrikaners, p. 405. 20 See Saul Dubow, ‗Afrikaner Nationalism, Apartheid and the Conceptualisation of Race,‘ Journal of African History, 1992, p.33. 21 See Saul Dubow, ‗Afrikaner Nationalism,‘ Eloise Cloete, ‗Afrikaner Identity: Culture, Tradition and Gender,‘ Agenda, p13 (1992); Sandra Swart and Lize-Marié van der Watt, ‗ ‗Taaltriomf or Taalverdriet?‘ An Aspect of the role of Eugéne Marais and Gustav Preller in the Second Language Movement, circa 1905-1927,‘ Historia, 53, 2008, pp.126-150. 22Saul Dubow, ‗Afrikaner Nationalism‘, pp.234-235. 23 Some attempt here to go past the rhetoric and mythologising with varying degrees of success. For example see Heribert Adam, and Hermann Giliomee, The Rise and Crisis of Afrikaner Power, Cape Town, Davis Philip, 1979. 235 symbolism of the rhetoric24 used to generate support by Afrikaner nationalists, focus on the economic links and advantage of apartheid for Afrikaners, thereby ignoring the emotional appeal of Afrikaner nationalism to the Afrikaner public, and the way in which that emotional appeal was used to support Afrikaner cultural assertion.25 Therefore the two schools represent differing viewpoints, but both have a contribution to make to a holistic understanding of Afrikaner nationalism and apartheid. However neither the liberal approach which generally focuses on the uses and abuses of mythology, symbology and religious rhetoric, or the Marxist approach which dismisses them, deal with the substance of the myths themselves, and why those particular myths and histories, in particular in this case the Covenant of Bloodrivier were so important. The cultural construction of Afrikaner identity occurred during a period of social dislocation. During this period many Afrikaners of the working class survived in rapidly expanding urban areas, with the continuous threat of cheaper African labour causing them to feel economically precarious. Also during this period, slightly better-off Afrikaners were concerned by the dual threats of the English and the Africans. To ensure their survival Afrikaners engaged in the construction and cementation of their identity, their society and their place within South Africa, and the first foundation put in place was their affiliation with Calvinist doctrine.

Sacred Worlds: Theories of the Role of Religion in Society: Max Weber argued that the role of priests was to be the 'bearers of the systemization and rationalization of religious ethics...' They are therefore, in the context of South African Afrikaner communities, the bearers of not only religious but also ethical power. Immanuel Kant also reflected on the part that religion had to play in determining society's moral and ethical framework. Kantian social theory reflected the way that religion was at the centre of the moral framework of western thought, particularly from an individual's point of view. Kant argued that the basis for social mores was deontic. This theory of the social imperative of religious thought was expanded upon by the sociologist Peter Berger who argues that:

Every society is engaged in the never completed enterprise of building a humanly meaning-full world. Viewed historically, most of man's worlds have been sacred worlds. Indeed, it appears likely that only by way of the sacred was it possible for man to conceive of a cosmos in the first place.26

The ethics adopted by a society's primary religion therefore must influence all spheres in which ethics plays a role. For example, the justice system can be greatly influenced by changing moral standards. It then

24 Morse, ‗Review of Volkskapitalisme,‘ p.673; Wiseman, ‗Review of Volkskapitalisme,‘ p.514; Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology, Religion and Afrikaner Ethnicity,‘ p.398. 25 Thompson, The Political Mythology of Apartheid, pp.20-24, p.39, pp.51-52; Albert Grundlingh and Hilary Saphire, ‗From Feverish Festival to Repetitive ritual? The Changing Fortunes of Great Trek Mythology in an Industrialising South Africa, 1938-1988,‘ South African Historical Journal, 21, 1989, pp.19-37. 26 Peter Berger, The Sacred Canopy: Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion, New York, 1976, p27. 236 permeates society, re-enforcing itself through a system of societal re- enforcement, or as Peter Berger described it, 'socialisation'. He described socialisation in The Sacred Canopy as the process through which a given society transmits its customs and ideology from one generation to the next.27 The colloquialism 'he/she learned it with his/her mother's milk' is a simplistic description of this process. Individuals are constantly having the norms of society confirmed and reconfirmed for them in their daily interaction with other members of their society. That individual then 'internalises' these 'externalisations', and he/she then objectivises the externalisations, thereby creating for themselves a 'world' or societal view informed by what they have learned from society.28 Gary Dorrien describes socialisation as a natural process which is necessary for the reproduction of society.29 Dorrien further argues that the normal process of socialisation in a non-Christian society is the antithesis of the Christian process, because it prepares the individual for a corrupt society, while the Christian process of socialisation, rather than sacralising society, aims to re-produce a society without sin and which will redeem its members from original sin. The influence of religion in the reiteration of the possibility of a true Christian society which will redeem its members and place them in a 'better' world therefore can have a profound influence on the way a society develops. 30

Constructing the Sacred: The use of Creation Myths Kant and Berger both argue that religion plays a seminal role in determining societies, forming the basis upon which societies are constructed. For Afrikaner society, the basic religious building blocks were Calvinism and mid-nineteenth century missionary revivalism. These religious movements usually reinforce ideas of sacrifice, in particular self- sacrifice, in order for the Christian society of the 'chosen', or those who have 'grace', to be achieved. To describe the society desired, and to reinforce messages of how it may be achieved, religions deploy creation stories: myths which explain both the origins of humanity and the 'godly' society which man should strive to achieve. For Afrikaners, the primary foundation or 'creation' myth which provided the base upon which Afrikaner society was built was the mythology of the Great Trek, and the Covenant. The Great Trek was almost always described in relation to the exodus tales of the Israelites fleeing Egypt for the 'promised land'. Afrikaner mythology also included an emphasis on particular biblical stories, such as the 'Children of Ham' or the 'Tower of Babel'. It is also based on particular Calvinist doctrines, particularly the doctrine of election, which, combined with the creation myth of the divine covenant of 1838, created the myth of the Afrikaners as the 'Chosen People'.

27 See Peter Berger, The Sacred Canopy, 1976. 28 Gary Dorrien, ‗Berger: theology and sociology‘, in Linda Woodhead, Paul Heelas and David Martin (eds), Peter Berger and the Study of Religion, Routledge, London, 2001, p.31. 29 Dorrien, ‗Berger: Theology and sociology‘, p.31. 30 Dorrien, ‗Berger: Theology and sociology‘, p.31. 237

Johan Kinghorn argues that 'this religious dimension was integral to the internal discourse on ethnicity in Afrikaner circles.'31 He argues that Afrikaner identity was founded around their understanding of their religious identity, destiny, and theology. Similarly Anthony D. Smith, in his work Chosen Peoples: Sacred Sources of National Identity, argues that the Covenant which is ascribed to Blood River in 1838, which was in essence a contract between God and the Afrikaners, played a central role in the development of their national identity. While myth and symbology play an important role in religion, they also function as part of the preparatory framework for the creation of an ethnic identity. The 'creation stories' which often occupy key positions in religious doctrine, can also be seminal in the development of a framework of reference for an ethnic group constructing a society which endows itself with religious values. In the case of the Afrikaners, their Calvinist theology fused together with Afrikaner nationalist theology into an identity that was religious and ethnic, sacred and civil - T. Dunbar Moodie's 'civil religion'. This synthesis was demonstrated in the leading figures of Afrikaner nationalism the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries: Paul Kruger, President of the Traansvaal, 1883-1900; and D.F. Malan, Prime Minister of South Africa, 1948-1954. Both were men of considerable religious belief, and one, D.F. Malan was also a Dominee of the Dutch Reformed Church.

'Into the Land of Milk and Honey': Myth and Symbology in Afrikaner Religious and Political Thought in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries Afrikaner identity developed in the early twentieth-century as an ethnie which believed in the innate destiny of the Afrikaners as the 'white tribe' of Africa. Their destiny, according to Afrikaner ideology, was divinely sanctioned and ordained. This divine sanction began in 1838, with the victory at Die Slag van Bloedrivier (Battle of Blood River).32 Then the mythic interpretation of Afrikaner history reinterpreted the past in terms of a series of trials, epic battles, and personal sacrifices by martyrs.33 This created an identity for Afrikaners which was ethnically defined,34 but based firmly upon a series of creation myths and biblical allegories which denoted the special nature of Afrikanerdom.35

31 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology, Religion and Afrikaner Ethnicity‘. 32Anthony D. Smith, Chosen People, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2003, pp.78-79 33 Smith, Chosen Peoples, pp.40-42 34 Note, Frederik Barth defines an Ethnic Group thus: ‗1. Is largely biologically self- perpetuating; 2. Shares fundamental cultural values, realized in overt unity in cultural forms; 3. Makes up a field of communication and interaction; 4 has a memberships which identifies itself, and is identified by others, as constituting a category distinguishable from other categories of the same order.‘ Frederik Barth, ‗Introduction‘ in Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Culture Difference, Illinois, Waveland Press, 1998, pp.10-11 35 See Sheila Patterson, ‗The Chosen People‘ in The Last Trek , London: Routledge & Kegan, 1957, pp.176-215; also see Andre du Toit, ‗No Chosen People: The Myth of the Calvinist Origins of Afrikaner Nationalism and Racial Ideology‘, The American Historical Review, 88, 1983, pp.920-952, which argues that before the late nineteenth-century there is little evidence for Afrikaners believing themselves the elect of God, even after Bloed 238

The Covenant sworn at Bloedrivier in 1838 appears to have been fairly promptly forgotten36 in the aftermath of the battle as the Trekkers and their leaders seem to have been preoccupied with more immediate matters. For example Pretorius never again refers to the covenant after 1839.37 The church at Pietermaritzburg was built as promised but 'The Vow' or 'Covenant' with God was mostly lost38 until it was revived by the new president of the Transvaal, Paul Kruger, in 1880.39 Paul Kruger, or 'Oom [uncle] Paul', became a symbol of Afrikaner resistance and independence in the north.40 Kruger was one of those who had been a part of the Trek as a child and seemed to embody the spirit of Afrikaner resistance and independence in the nineteenth-century. Allister Sparks describes Kruger thus: Kruger was a simple man... He was a boy of ten during the Great Trek, then became a big-game hunter... He was married to a dutiful wife who bore him sixteen children. He never spent a day in school; his only education had been to read the Bible. He was a man of deep piety and stubborn principle, the archetypal Boer, who believed emphatically... that the 'old people' of the Trek were indeed the Elect of God who had been led out of bondage to the Transvaal. His world was the world of the Old Testament, and he cut a Biblical figure with his stolid features and bearded face. He was an Abraham to his people, and as he watched the teeming gold-reef city rise just thirty- five miles from his capital he trembled for them [and] he knew it was gift from Satan that would bring... back the British...41

Kruger's revival of the Covenant could be seen therefore to draw on two important sources of personal belief: his devout religious belief, which included a belief in the divine gift of the Transvaal to the Afrikaners, as well as their place as the elect of God; and his belief that his people were in peril from without, due to the encroachment of the British and others, whom he considered lesser peoples.42

Rivier, also see Smith, 2003, pp.50-51, for a theory how The Divine Covenant functions in relation to Nationalism. 36 It has been suggested that the commemoration occurred in private. However there is simply no that the Covenant played any significant role in Afrikaner society between 1838 and 1880, apart from being a holiday in the South African Republic (also known as the Transvaal) from 1865. See Leonard M. Thompson, The Political Mythology of Apartheid, New Haven, Yale University Press, 1985, Chapter 5, ‗The Covenant,‘ pp.144 -188. 37 Hermann Giliomee, The Afrikaners: Biography of a People, Charlottesburg, University of Virginia Press, 2003, p.166. 38 Note, as above, see Note 5, in 1865 the day was made a holiday in the Transvaal, but it was not publicly celebrated as a Sabbath or Afrikaner day, and there is no mention of the vow, simply that the holiday is ‗to commemorate that by God‘s grace the immigrants were freed from the yoke of Dingane,‘ Thompson, The Political Mythology of Apartheid, p.168. 39 Giliomee, The Afrikaners, p.166. 40 Martin Meredith, Diamonds, Gold and War: The British, the Boers and the making of South Africa (New York, Public Affairs, 2007), pp.74-81; Allister Sparks, The Mind of South Africa: The Story of the Rise and Fall of Apartheid, Johannesburg: Jonathan Ball, 2008, pp.122-124; T. Dunbar Moodie, The Rise of Afrikanerdom: Power, Apartheid and the Afrikaner Civil Religion, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1975, pp 7-8. 41 Sparks, The Mind of South Africa, pp.123-124. 42 Meredith, Diamonds, Gold and War, pp.81-82. 239

In 1891 Kruger warned that the Covenant 'should be celebrated as a religious and not a secular festival'43 which linked the trekkers to the Israelites of the Old Testament.44 In 1880, during the First Anglo-Boer War, the myth of the Vow was accorded a central position and gained a great deal of impetus.45 During a long meeting between the 5th and 16th of December 1880, at Paardekraal,46 the covenant was revived by between four and six thousand Boers, led by Paul Kruger, who symbolically renewed the vow by the placing of stones on a cairn.47 The First Anglo Boer War, 1880-1881 (also known as the First War of Independence) was short, but its narrative was littered with references to the role of Almighty God in ensuring the victory of the Afrikaners against British forces.48 They had symbolically re-built the covenant and the rhetoric of the period was not just political, religious, nationalist or ethnic, but a fusing of all into a brief period of feverish identity confirmation. According to John X. Merriman, future Prime Minister of the Cape, there was 'no use disguising that fact that there is a great deal of sympathy and fellow feeling between the inhabitants of the Cape Colony and the inhabitants of the Transvaal...'49 This 'fellow feeling' came just at the moment when the publications of the Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners (Society of True Afrikaners) (GRA) were circulating in the Cape, and shows a glimpse of early ethno-nationalist feeling, although this rapidly faded with the swift and decisive victory of the Transvaal over the British. However 'Each Shot... and every drop of blood that is shed there [Transvaal] will sow the seeds for the continuance of that bitter feeling which existed between Dutch and English.'50

43Anton Ehlers, ‗Apartheid Mythology and Symbolism: Desegregated and Re-Invented in the Service of Nation Building in the New South Africa: the Covenant and the Battle of Blood River/Ncome,‘ in Founding Myths of the New South Africa: 5e Colloque International Saint-Denis de La Reunion, Saint Denis, Université de La Reunion, 2004, p185. 44 Ehlers, ‗Apartheid Mythology and Symbolism,‘ p185; Note, Kruger was not the last or most successful Afrikaner leader at using religious symbology as a political tool, D.F. Malan and other twentieth-century Afrikaner leaders were experts in drawing on biblical allegory and theory in their rhetoric. See Sparks, The Mind of South Africa, pp.152-153. 45 Thompson, The Political Mythology of Apartheid, p169. 46 Note, Paardekraal was a farm, one of the earliest in the region of the Drakensburg mountain range. In the 1880s gold was found in the area, as it had been in other parts of the Witwatersrand. In 1887 the mining town of Krugersdorp, named for President Paul Kruger was founded by MW Pretorius, the owner of Paardekraal, to mine the gold which had been discovered on his property. See the Mogale City information page on Krugersdorp, http://www.mogalecity.gov.za/municipality/krugersdorp.stm 47 C.W. de Kiewiet, The Anatomy of South African Misery, London, Oxford University Press, 1956; J. Alton Templin, Ideology on a Frontier: The Theological Foundation of Afrikaner Nationalism, 1652-1910, Westport, Connecticut, Greenwood Press, 1984, p173. 48 See Templin, Ideology on a Frontier, pp.123-181; also see F.W. Reitz, A Century of Wrong, London, Review of Reviews, 1900, p.32. 49 Parliamentary papers, C.2783 of 1881, pp.70-71, in Templin, Ideology on a Frontier, p.175, note, Merriman was not the only one to provide verbal or physical support. The British suspected that some Orange Free State citizens were fighting alongside the Transvaalers, although this was not proven. Support also came from the nominally neutral mediator President Brand and even from Ministers of the Cape synod of the Dutch Reformed Church. 50 Templin, Ideology on a Frontier, p175. 240

In the north in the aftermath of the war of 1880-1881, all thought was turned towards the way in which the Boers had so completely humiliated the British generals;51 and, led by Paul Kruger, focussed on placing all the credit in the Lord, who had 'provided' their victory.52 H. Lemmer and Paul Kruger, speaking at a great festival at Paardekraal in 1881 drew direct comparisons between the Afrikaners of the South African Republic and the Old Testament's Exodus.53 Or, as another put it: 'There can be no greater miracles and wonders than in the War of Freedom... God's hand was so evident that even blind heathen and unbelievers had to acknowledge that it was God's hand...'54 God had delivered them from the British, just as he had done with the Old Testament Israelites fleeing the Pharaoh.55 Anton Ehlers argues that Kruger believed that the 'trials' of the Afrikaners, in this case in the Transvaal at the hands of British imperialism in the 1870s and 1880s, was a consequence of their not having fulfilled the promises made in the Covenant at Bloed Rivier.56 But Ehlers also argues that on another level, the events of the Trek were also used to promote a united 'historical consciousness' amongst Transvaal Afrikaners, reinforced with religious rhetoric about their being the 'chosen people'.57 These themes of history, myth and 'Election' became, according to T. Dunbar Moodie, central to Afrikaner political mythology in the twentieth-century, forging a 'civil religion'.58 The Covenant in South Africa and the use of myth and symbology to support an ethnically and religiously defined identity were not exclusively South African. Such ideas were also popular in Europe during the nineteenth-century, where creation myths of many new nationalisms were also emerging at this time. The voortrekkers, their battles, and particularly, their Vow, suited the neo-Fichtean romanticism of nineteenth-century nationalist histories. The Trek can be viewed in comparison to the role of the mythology of Arminius in German romantic nationalist tales. These stories featured heroes, battles and betrayals, ending, ultimately, in the victory of the ethnie because of that ethnie's special qualities.59 The Great Trek therefore serves as a creation myth which shows the exceptionality of

51 The British General, Sir George Colley, who was killed during the Battle of Majuba Hill, had severely greater losses than the Boer Commandos during both the Battle of Laing‘s Nek and the Battle of Majuba Hill. Although the Boers attributed this to God‘s special favour, the blame falls more on the British Generals who made grave miscalculations and tactical errors. See Templin, Ideology on a Frontier, p.176. See Davenport and Saunders, South Africa, p.208. 52 In response to a final ultimatum delivered by the British Officers before the first proper engagement of the war, the Boer reply was ‗We have only to submit to our fate; the Lord will provide‘, in T.F. Carter, Narrative of the Boer War, Its Causes and Results, London, John MacQueen, 1896, p.155. 53 Templin, Ideology on a Frontier, pp.180-181. 54 Du Plessis, J.S., President Kruger aan die Woord, Bloemfontein, Sacum, 1952, quoted in Moodie, The Rise of Afrikanerdom, p.8. 55 See the Book of Exodus. 56 Ehlers, ‗Apartheid Mythology and Symbolism‘, p.185. 57 Ehlers, ‗Apartheid Mythology and Symbolism‘, p.185. 58 Note, see Thompson, The Political Mythology of Apartheid, pp.12-13. 59 Note, see Anthony Smith, Chosen Peoples (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2003), pp.81-83. 241 the Afrikaner people, and reinforces the notion of a superior 'white tribe', which has a right to belong in Africa, with a particular focus on the special relationship of the people with God.60 Christoph Marx argues that the site chosen later by the Sentrale Volksmonumente Komitee (SVK) in Pretoria, rather than somewhere in Natal, for its Monument for the Voortrekkers, further strengthened these ideas. The site was not only linked with Krugerite nationalist identity, but with the the mythology and divine sanction of the voortrekkers.61 Pretoria's was named for Andries Pretorius, the victor of Bloedrivier, and had also become the centre of the independent South African Republic, or Transvaal. The Eeufees (Centenary festival) in 1938 was a great success in not only generating immediate popular interest, but in also cementing Krugerite and Malanite nationalism as the premier identity with which Afrikaners would associate themselves. While originally two ox wagons were supposed to leave Johannesburg for the short journey to Pretoria, in the end seven wagons departed Cape Town and visited over five-hundred towns and cities across South Africa. During the re-enactment the ox-wagons were often met by large crowds, assembled to meet them in traditional dress and desirous of participating in a celebration of their mythic past.62 In the lee of the ox wagons various ceremonies occurred, including weddings and christenings, and people came out to watch the wagons, ride on them and touch them.63 Not only had the ox wagons themselves been given names linked with Afrikaner history but the children who were christened were given names commemorating the event, like Eeufesia and Ossewania.64 In one newspaper it was reported that: Young girls in voortrekkerkappies leaned out of windows of factories in Fordsburg, where the relentless assembly belts stopped moving as the wagons passed... As the wagons passed through the far-flung suburbs where Afrikaner workers live, thousands of people lined the route, their enthusiasm not dampened by the rain...65 Clearly the events were of enormous emotional significance for many Afrikaners, representing as they did an idealised version of their own past with which they were not only familiar and comfortable, but towards which

60 J. Hutchinson, ‗Myth Against Myth: The Nation as Ethnic Overlay,‘ in History and National Destiny: Ethnosymbolism and its Critics,ed. M. Guiberneau and J. Hutchinson, Oxford, Blackwell, 2004, pp.113-114. Note, this also reflects Dopper cachetology, with which Kruger as a Dopper would have closely identified with. See Giliomee, The Afrikaners, pp177-178; Hexham, The Irony of Apartheid, pp.67-71. 61 Christoph Marx, Oxwagon Sentinel: Radical Afrikaner Nationalism and the History of the Ossewabrandwag, Pretoria, University of South Africa Press, 2008, p.268. 62 Grundlingh and Saphire, ‗From Feverish Festival to Repetitive Ritual,‘ 21-24; Smith, Chosen People, p.85, pp.143-144. 63 See Moodie, The Rise of Afrikanerdom, ‗Chapter 9: The Centenary of Geloftedag: Highpoint of the Civil Faith‘, pp.175-207. 64 Albert Grundlingh and Hilary Saphire, ‗From Feverish Festival to Repetitive ritual? The Changing Fortunes of Great Trek Mythology in an Industrialising South Africa, 1938- 1988,‘ South African Historical Journal, 21, 1989, p.20 65 Sunday Times, 4 December 1938, ‗Wagons reach the Reef‘; also see Albert Grundlingh and Hilary Saphire, ‗From Feverish Festival to Repetitive ritual? The Changing Fortunes of Great Trek Mythology in an Industrialising South Africa, 1938-1988,‘ South African Historical Journal, 21, 1989, pp.19-27. 242 they felt great emotional attachment.66 They were also successful in engaging all socio-economic strata within Afrikanerdom in a vision. That vision not only drew upon the past but reassured Afrikaners that the economic and social trials and dangers of the present could be overcome, and promised a future for Afrikaners in South Africa. The spontaneous expression of popular Afrikaner nationalism and the way it celebrated Afrikaner history certainly did have a lingering effect culturally, and secured the place of the divine in modern Afrikaner identity. Grundlingh argues that: 'In evaluating the place of the celebrations in the development of Afrikaner nationalism, it is perhaps best viewed as an important populist phase. It had all the rhetoric of populist movements: 'struggle', 'survival' and 'salvation'.'67 He also argues that it was 'moralistic rather than programmatic'68 in its content, and attempted to de-class Afrikaners, particularly their leadership, in order to create a united Afrikanerdom which was symbolically represented by the Wagon, and the heroism of the voortrekkers in their laagers, defended by a divine hand.69 These themes are also commonly found in religious rhetoric: struggle in order to have salvation, and therefore survival, is a common theme of religious movements. In South Africa, the religiously-loaded notion of salvation also became part of the secular struggle to maintain cultural independence. For Afrikaner leaders like D.F. Malan, a former Dominee of the Dutch Reformed Church, cultural independence and the survival of the Afrikaner Nation was a religious imperative. For D.F. Malan politics, identity, language and culture were divinely given to the Afrikaners and were therefore endowed with spiritual importance. On 26 December 1938, D.F. Malan, the first apartheid-era leader of South Africa, made a speech which Albert Grundlingh has described as one of the most important speeches delivered by Malan, because it touched on all the key areas of the Nationalists' political doctrine - or 'civil religion'.70 Much of the Afrikaner oratory, poetry and literature during the Eeufees, described both the Great Trek and the second Trek, or Die Tweede Trek (from rural idyll to Babylonian cities) as not only historical events, or social phenomena, but as part of a grand scheme, a destiny. The language used was laden with religious motifs and with allegorical references to the Bible.71 In Malan's speech he linked the heroic past with a struggle for survival symbolically intertwined with the history and mythology of the voortrekkers:

66 Glassberg, Sense of History, p.6; Marx, Oxwagon Sentinel, p.272, Beningfield, The Frightened Land, p.35, pp.37-41. 67 Grundlingh and Sapire, ‗From Feverish Festival,‘ p.27. 68 Grundlingh and Sapire, ‗From Feverish Festival,‘ p.27. 69 Grundlingh and Sapire, ‗From Feverish Festival,‘ p.20. 70 Grundlingh and Saphire, ‗From Feverish Festival to Repetitive Ritual,‘ pp.21-24; Albert Grundlingh, ‗The Politics of the Past and of popular Pursuits in the Construction of Everyday Afrikaner Nationalism,‘ in South Africa‟s 1940s: Worlds of Possibilities, Ed Saul Dubow and Alan Jeeves, Capetown, Double Storey Books, 2005, p.192. 71 Grundlingh and Saphire, ‗From Feverish Festival to Repetitive Ritual,‘ pp.20-24 243

You stand here upon the boundary of two centuries. Behind you, you rest your eyes upon the year 1838 as upon a high, outstanding mountain-top, dominating everything in the blue distance. Before you on the yet untrodden Path of South Africa, lies the year 2038, equally far off and hazy. Behind you, lie the tracks of the voortrekker wagons, deeply and ineradicably etched upon the wide, outstretched plains and across the glistening dragon-tooth mountain ranges of our country's history. Over those unknown regions which stretch broadly before you, there will also be treks of Ox Wagons. They will be your Ox Wagons, symbolic as you will note, but nonetheless real…72 This masterful piece of oratory drew together the modern crisis of Afrikaner life in a society economically dominated by the British, numerically and economically endangered by cheap, seemingly inexhaustible, African competition for employment, and an urban society which challenged the norms of Afrikaner society as perceived by many Afrikaners.73 The mythical linking of the religiously significant Divine Providence, which had saved the Afrikaners at the Battle of Bloedrivier with the present period, allows Malan to liken the heroic, divine struggle of the voortrekkers with the struggle for the soul of Afrikanerdom in the urban 'Bloedrivier'. D.F. Malan was one of those who not only fostered certain ideas of Afrikaner identity but who also believed in that identity.74 Malan had a longstanding 'sense' of Afrikaner identity which he believed was extrapolated from their religion, their past and their language.75 These specific traits Malan identified as making Afrikaners a unique and separate people. Under Malan the National Party used strong religious themes and related modern Afrikaner concerns and events to their past, particularly in Malan's rhetoric.76 This is not to suggest that D.F. Malan's beliefs were universal, but as the leader of the 'Laager' from 1933 to 1954 he was a powerful influence on the way in which the National Party's rhetoric and symbology evolved during this critical period.77 Lindie Korf argues that D.F. Malan held faith in Nationalism as a system of belief, a religion, 'derived from God himself…', much as Kruger had believed that the land was a gift from God.78 Peter Berger argues that all religions have a role to play in society, in creating a structure of social mores,79 a 'definitive formulation of the sense and purpose of society.'80

72 D.F. Malan speech at 1938 Bloed Rivier celebrations quoted in Smith, Chosen Peoples, p.143. 73 See Albert Grundlingh, ‗The Politics of the Past and of popular Pursuits in the Construction of Everyday Afrikaner Nationalism,‘ 2005. 74 See Lindie Korf, ‗D.F. Malan: An Intellectual Biography, 1874-1915‘, Master‘s Dissertation, University of Johannesburg, 2005, for Malan‘s beliefs, also D.F.M. 1.1.32689, D.F.Malan Collection, Stellenbosch University Library; D.F. Malan (jr.) (Danie), Herinneringe ann my Vader. 75 See D.F.M. 1.1.32689, D.F. Malan (jr.) (Danie), Herinneringe ann my Vader. 76 Grundlingh, ‗The Politics of the Past,‘ pp.195-196. 77 Korf, ‗Podium and/or Pulpit: D.F. Malan‘s Role in the Politicisation of the Dutch Reformed Church,‘ Historia 52, 2 (November 2007), p.236; note, de Klerk argues that the early apartheid legislation of the 1950s bore the ‗stamp of his intellectual approval.‘, De Klerk, Puritans in Africa, pp.236-237. 78 Korf, ‗Podium and /or Pulpit,‘ p.236. 79 Peter Berger, The Sacred Canopy, pp.26-28. 244

This societal role of religion is reinforced by creation myths; and Kinghorn identifies two, one which is secular with religious overtones, and the other as a purely religious creation myth.81 These myths were a seminal part of D.F. Malan's rhetoric about the nation as he mythologised it, its past and its heroic destiny.82 Kinghorn agrees with Heribert Adam and Hermann Giliomee that these myths are not the actual foundation of apartheid policies per se, but rather the cultural constructs of rhetoric, part of the discourse of election, covenant and destiny which was part of the assertion of group solidarity and identity.83 Malan's use of the mythology and symbology was part of the group identification and nationalism of Afrikaners, who responded to his rhetoric because it established or reinforced their identity, beliefs and future. These myths represented implied safety and security for those who needed it - Afrikaners. Kinghorn further argues that 'Afrikaners were entirely unprepared to deal with the experiences of relativity and insecurity that followed their bewildering exposure to social, cultural and moral plurality.'84 Malan was therefore comforting Afrikaners with the idea that the world was based on ancient orders, religion, and that they were rightfully where they were supposed to be, but that they would have to fight to maintain their place in South Africa.85 His speech at Blood River in 1938 and Die Lied van Jong Suid-Afrika therefore shared key symbols. The comparison of the urbanisation of Afrikaners, or Tweede Trek in the twentieth century, with the Great Trek of the nineteenth century cast the moral and social struggles within Afrikaner society in a heroic light. It could be perceived as a fight for the very survival of their ethnie against those forces that were attempting to destroy their unique society from within. The imagery deployed during the Eeufees was of the apparently 'golden era' of the Voortrekkers, and the Boer Republics of the nineteenth century. Modern Afrikanerdom was under the threat of British culture, the Church of England and language from 'above', and African culture from 'below'. Similarly, economic forces and urbanisation processes created pressure on those fronts. The 'civil religion' provided safety and an ideology which reclaimed at least the divine ground for Afrikaners. They were pre- destined to greatness, they were now the chosen people, armed with a destiny, and a political program, apartheid, that would lead them out of 'Babel', and segregate once more the children of Ham, from the elect. Conclusion: A Country of Covenants In 1994 Nelson Mandela declared in his inaugural address that 'We enter into a covenant that we shall build the society in which all South Africans,

80 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology,‘ p.395. 81 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology,‘ p.397. 82 Smith, Chosen Peoples, pp.143-144. 83 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology,‘ pp.397-398, Heribert Adam and Hermann Giliomee, The Rise and Crisis of Afrikaner Power, Cape Town, David Phillip, 1979, pp.112-115. 84 Kinghorn, ‗Social Cosmology,‘ p.397. 85 S.W. Pienaar, ed. Glo in U Volk: Dr D.F. Malan as Redenaar, 1908-1954, Cape Town, Tafelberg-Uitgewers, 1964, 121, cited in J. Alton Templin, Ideology on a Frontier: The Theological Foundation of Afrikaner Nationalism, 1652-1910 , Westport, Connecticut, Greenwood Press, 1984, p.412; quoted in Smith, Chosen Peoples, p.143. 245 both black and white, will be able to walk tall, without any fear in their hearts, assured of their inalienable right to human dignity – a rainbow nation at peace with itself and the world.'. A new Covenant for a country reborn, and yet once more Mandela was placing religious and communal constraints on the new South Africa. The development of the mythology and symbolism of the Covenant was intertwined with the theology of Afrikaner religion, and the power which Afrikaner ideology managed to impose on South African society from 1948-1990 meant that its rhetoric and imagery had become part of South African society in general. It was no coincidence that Mandela used the word Covenant: not only was he reassuring those who were used to hearing religious language in politics, but he was using language which was loaded with double meaning: this was the end of the old covenant, and the beginning of a new one. Consequently, the Afrikaners had a worldview and an identity grounded in both religious and ethnic myths, which provided them with an 'absolute' cosmos. They were certain of their past, their present and their future, and they confirmed their certainty through religious doctrine, ethno- religious mythology, and acts of social confirmation.

246

The Diocese of Rockhampton: Establishment, Initiatives and the Future

Robert Philp Central Queensland University

Bishop Tyrell's plan of concentric church expansion will be examined in this paper, focusing on the beginnings of an idea for the establishment of a third diocese in Northern Queensland. A discussion will be offered of the effect of the Church of England Conference of 1887 in Rockhampton, with the influence of Webber and Dawes, which resulted in the setting up of the new diocese. Churchmanship and local politics were key concerns. The twin spectres of lack of finance and manpower were present from the beginning and the initiative of Dawes in establishing the Bush Brotherhood of St Andrew was a hoped-for solution. The Bush Brotherhood exercised considerable influence in the country dioceses of Australia. An examination of the difficulty of setting up of the English system of diocesan governance in the Australian rural environment will be canvassed, along with a discussion of the "type" of clergymen acceptable to bush people. There will be a concluding section looking at how the early initiatives affected the expansion of the diocese as the twentieth century progressed and how the diocese appears now in the early stages of the twenty- first century. The influence of the constitution of the 1960s on the governance of the diocese will be examined.

It is appropriate that at the time of the Diocese of Brisbane's celebrations of its sesquicentenary, that a short examination be made of the way in which her only offspring was founded and some of the results of that foundation. Of the Australian metro-political dioceses, Brisbane is the only one to have just the one daughter diocese founded directly from her. Keith Rayner gives an opinion that the reasons for the setting up of another diocese in the north of the Colony, as it then was, were multiple.1 He suggests that the episcopal incumbent, Bishop Webber, was anxious to secure better spiritual oversight for that part of the Diocese, which was somewhat isolated and required extensive travelling from Brisbane should the bishop or clergy wish to visit those parts. It is also significant that Webber was essentially a city man and did not relish country work or ardous and extensive travel to northern Queensland. Finally, but not least perhaps, Rayner argues that that another diocese was required to make the necessary number to form a Province over which Webber could preside as archbishop. An archbishop could not govern only one diocese and greater administrative complexity was required. Ecclesiastical motives aside there was also a very strong and vociferous move in the secular area for political separation from the south-east corner of the Colony. This movement was not only alive and well in Central Queensland but it was also making its presence felt in

1 Keith Rayner, Historical Notes on the Structure of the Dioceses and Province of Queensland, Diocesan Archives, Rockhampton, n.d. 247

North Queensland. Anglican laymen looking for separation as a new diocese were also seeking political separation from the south-east corner. From the time of the setting up of the Diocese of Newcastle, the northern boundary had been the 21 parallel north. The Central Queensland area, represented by Port Curtis, the modern day Gladstone, was on the very far northern fringes of Bishop Tyrrell's plan of expansion of the Church from Newcastle and it received its first visit from a priest – The Reverend T.L.Dodd from Maryborough - in 1856.2 At the time of the foundation of Brisbane Diocese in 1859, the northern boundary of the new diocese remained the old northern boundary of the Diocese of Newcastle. The area north of the boundary was technically part of the Diocese of Sydney. Although settled from 1853 the Pastoral District of Leichhardt (including the Rockhampton area) was made available for settlement in 1859 and the town of Rockhampton was surveyed at this same time. The Canoona gold rush of 1858 brought fifteen thousand people to the district and after no great quantity of gold was found many stayed on. By 1860 the town was established and Church of England services were being held on a regular basis, although actual church buildings were limited. By 1887 there was enough congregational support for the holding of the 'Church of England Conference' of that year with delegates from the centres of worship in the Central District as well as the Archdeacon Dawes and other delegates from Brisbane. Bishop Webber was chairman. The case for another Diocese in the Central District was strongly put by Webber and Dawes who suggested in a paper on church extension, that the new Diocese would take root in Rockhampton and be:

like one of those remarkable Banyan trees, the ficus bengalienisis, which from a single trunk sends out horizontal branches, each as it extends providing its own support in the soil, and yet all bound together in perfect unity.3

The Conference was held in response to a resolution of the Brisbane Synod to the effect that: 'In view of the necessity for additional supervision of the Diocese, to which the Council have drawn attention, this Synod is of the opinion that the division of the See should be effected.'4 The conclusion reached at this conference was not the first such suggestion that there should be another diocese in the north. As early as 1866 Governor Bowen was writing to England suggesting a dream of his that there should be a northern diocese beyond the twenty-first parallel south boundary of Brisbane.5 His idea was not immediately acted upon, but in 1874 Canon R.L.King was sent from Sydney to promote the idea

2 K. Rayner, ‗History of the Church of England in Queensland‘ University of Queensland Ph.D. Thesis, 1962, p. 62. 3 Minutes of the Proceedings of the Church of England Conference, Rockhampton, 27 October 1887, p.3, Anglican Archives, Rockhampton. 4 Minutes of Church of England Conference, Rockhampton, 1887, unpublished source, p. 2. 5 Letter of Governor Bowen to Secretary of State for the Colonies, 18 December, 1866. 248 and the local newspaper reported that a resolution among clergy in New South Wales and Queensland was carried to the effect that: 'steps be now taken to commence the effort to provide a suitable endowment for the proposed bishopric of Rockhampton, and that the central and northern districts be asked to join in the effort.'6 A committee was formed in Rockhampton to further the proposal and Bishop Barker of Sydney met with the Diocesan Council in Brisbane to seek its approval. Enthusiasm was not in evidence in either area and fund raising lagged. Both Brisbane and the north did not feel that it was the right time. An earlier suggestion along these lines was made by Bishop Barker on his visit to England in 1870 and a report reached Queensland that the idea of a northern diocese had become a reality and that Rockhampton was to be its cathedral city. The citizens of Bowen, which had been settled in 1861, were moved by this report to petition the Archbishop of Canterbury to make their town the see city. This activity and anxiety was all somewhat premature as the Synod of the Diocese of Brisbane, at a special session in 1871, absolutely refused to give up any portion of the Diocese, as it was then constituted, to a new diocese in the north.7 The most immediate result of the Conference of 1887 was that Archdeacon Dawes was consecrated as Assistant Bishop to Webber and given oversight of the northern area. although he was stationed in Toowoomba at first, he and his family moved to Rockhampton in 1890 and took up residence in the city, his presence at least making an implicit point about where any future diocese would be based and cathedral built. Support for the proposed new diocese was not overwhelming from local sources when it became evident that there would be a financial component involved. Only £2,000 was raised locally when the figure needed for the erection of a new see was estimated to be at least £20,000. Bishop Webber undertook to raise a further £10,000 and he succeeded in raising £7,000, doing this with substantial help from the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, the Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge, the Colonial Bishoprics Council and the Bible Societies.8 Although £20,000 was originally deemed necessary to establish a diocese and pay for a bishop, property and clergy stipends, this figure was swiftly adjusted and reduced. With the urging of the key laity and the agreement of the Primate, Bishop Alfred Barry of Sydney, the sum deemed to be necessary for the foundation of the see was reduced to £10,000.9 This sum was duly raised, mainly by Webber as mentioned, and the new diocese, with Bishop Dawes at its helm was inaugurated on St. Andrew's Day 1892. All of this did nothing to remove the 'twin spectres' of the shortage of manpower and finance which confronted the bishop and clergy of the new diocese. A striking feature of the new diocese was, however, that the general flavour of churchmanship was quite definitely in the direction of

6 Rockhampton Morning Bulletin, 20 June, 1874. 7 Rayner, ‗Church of England in Queensland‘, p.178. 8 Anon., Report of the new Bishopric of Rockhampton 1893, Anglican Archives, Rockhampton. 9 Synod Reports, Diocese of Rockhampton, 1893 249 the Oxford Movement, a ritualist movement then gaining numbers and influence in the Church of England. Dawes' consecration, the first in Australia without Letters Patent from the English monarch and Privy Council, was objected to by some in Sydney and in England on the grounds of his tractarian sympathies and the new bishopric was described as '… a hot-bed and cradle of ritualism in the antipodes'.10 Thomas Jones, the first resident priest in Rockhampton, was a well known advocate for catholic teaching and forms of worship and the clergy from England, at least until the 1920s, were of the Oxbridge and Oxford Movement persuasion. This culture continued without change in the Diocese until the 1980s. The Diocese, in common with most Australian country dioceses, set up in the nineteenth century was planted with a full complement of the ancillary attachments of an English diocese, including its pastoral, administrative and legal requirements. By the first synod in 1893 there were in place an Archdeacon, (G.M.L. Lester of Mitchell) in the west, a Chancellor (J.C. Tyler) and a somewhat premature Registry with D.D. Dawson as the first Registrar.11 All of this to manage six parishes. Ruth Frappell has maintained that the reluctance of the English sponsoring bodies to endow anything less than '… a new territorial see' caused a rush to inaugurate country dioceses in Australia with all the accoutrements of an English diocese, only for the smaller dioceses to experience extreme difficulty in maintaining the infrastructure of ancient and extensive English dioceses in a new and considerably more limited context.12 This circumstance was certainly the case with the new Diocese of Rockhampton. Although it was all maintained on a shoe- string, lack of finance and the recruitment of sufficient numbers of clergy from England and southern Australia made created numerous difficulties for the early bishops. Dawes could, without being accused of hyperbole, state to his Synod in 1896 that no Australian diocese had been founded under more 'indigent' circumstances than that of Rockhampton.13 Drought conditions, the failure of the Banks, including the new Diocese's bank and vast distances with sparse population were all prevailed together to test the resilience of the new Bishop. He was proactive in working on an idea of having a group of unmarried priests to live in a central location and work a large area as a team, as an answer to at least one of these problems, the shortage of manpower. The idea had been tried by Tufnell in the Diocese of Brisbane during the time when Central Queensland was part of the Brisbane Diocese but it had been unsuccessful. The planting of the Bush Brotherhoods in the Australian Church has been well documented but one notable achievement of Dawes' time as Bishop was the founding of the first Brotherhood, that of St. Andrew at Longreach on Holy Cross Day (15 September)in 1897. It survived until

10 Queensland Evangelical Standard, 18 December,1880, cited in Rayner, ‗Church of England in Queensland‘, p. 249. 11 Diocesan Year Book, Rockhampton, 1893. 12 R. Frappell, ‗The Anglican Ministry to the unsettled areas of Australia 1890-1940‘, Ph.D, University of Sydney, 1992, pp.123-126 13 Synod Proceedings, 1896, p. 8 (Anglican Archives, Rockhampton). 250 the late 1940s and provided a pattern for remote and bush pastoral ministry in the Diocese of Rockhampton and Australia. As the Brothers took vows of celibacy and poverty it also significantly helped to keep the cost of mounting a traditional parish ministry and plant to a minimum. The Brotherhood in Central Queensland failed in one respect, which was to attract any significant number of local men to the ordained ministry. It was commonly viewed as an English institution working in the Australian bush.14 Central Queensland has been the birth place of some notable Australian 'icons' such as QANTAS, the black stump and Jacky Howe, the Australian Labor Party and Waltzing Matilda. All of the above were spawned in the Brotherhood of St. Andrew area so a good case may be made to include the Bush Brotherhood movement itself. There is no particular outreach to the aboriginal population in the earlier phase of the Diocese's life. This pastoral element came in the 1950s well after the local, and distant, tribal people were relocated in Government and Church Missions. The Diocese has never had a mission place for aboriginal people but instead a very costly and somewhat frustrating ministry to aboriginal people on the government settlement at Woorabinda.15 In contrast to this situation there was a very deliberate and well supported mission to the Pacific Island people brought to the area's cane plantations at the end of the nineteenth century. Most of these people had had contact with Anglicanism in their home islands and it was a very fertile field for evangelism. With the passing of the first Act of the new Commonwealth Parliament, The Pacific Islanders Labourers Act of 1901, Bishop Dawes, was roused from his usual apolitical stance to brand it as 'a flagrant act of injustice' and its passing by the new Parliament as 'hasty and reckless'.16 The forced repatriation of Islander people was opposed by the Bishop and the clergy of Rockhampton. The initial moves of the Islanders to oppose forced repatriation were backed by the Rector of North Rockhampton, Canon Julius, and his successor, The Reverend Joseph Brockelhurst, appeared on behalf of the Islanders at the Queensland Royal Commission in 1906. Brockelhurst also purchased land in his own name so that those not repatriated would be able to undertake subsistence vegetable growing as they were prevented from taking any gainful employment. The Islanders built their own Church on Diocesan land in 1912 and this Church still supports a small Islander congregation in 2010. The Diocese has engaged in its 112 years of life in the usual forms of out reach which are part and parcel of the life of any Anglican diocese. It has engaged in attempts to set up Church schools in two locations. One is St Peter's in Barcaldine in the heart of the 'outback' Brotherhood area, and run for some of its time by the Oratory of the Good Shepherd. This did not succeed as the western graziers were keen to send their children

14 R.Philp, ‗‗Steel all Through‘, The Church of England in Central Queensland; Transplantation and Adaptation, 1892-1942‘, Ph.D,Central Queensland University 2002, pp 88-115. 15 Woorbinda is situated 120 miles from Rockhampton in the catchment area of the Dawson River where people from the upper Dawson at Taroom were relocated in 1926 and later, 1945, people from far north Queensland were also relocated. 16 Synod Reports, 1904, p.11 (Anglican Archives, Rockhampton). 251 south to the more established schools there. The other, St. Faith's, at Yeppoon for girls, was run by the Society of the Sacred Advent. This was somewhat more successful but closed in the 1960s for want of local support. A major enterprise undertaken by the Diocese from 1907 to 1982 was a large scale orphanage near Rockhampton. St. George's was the only Anglican institution of this sort north of Brisbane and was a very prominent feature of Diocesan life for the ninety years of its existence. It eventually fell foul of the Government determination to close large institutional establishments of this kind. The early challenge was to have sufficient clergy to cover a small population over a large geographical area and to have enough financial backing to effectively minister pastorally to them. The essential 'problem' has not vanished but is still there in a different form. At first, up until the 1940s, the ministry to people was left to the English clergy brought from the Mother Country. The bishops were all English until 1948, the clergy were all English until 1913 and a large proportion of the clergy were English until the 1940s. While there have been sufficient ordinations of local candidates to fill the gaps, the most compelling problems since the 1950s has been the tendency of locally-trained clergy to leave the diocese to find work further south and their places have been filled with clergy from southern dioceses or with non-stipendiary incumbents drawn from the local congregation.17 These clergy may not always be theologically prepared but they are local and acclimatised. Shortage of financial support in the remote areas remains a problem and some of the parishes are dependent on help from the national bodies such as BCA. Of the fourteen clergy receiving a stipend, and being incumbents of a parish, including the bishop, eight are from dioceses further south. Of those holding permission to officiate licenses, including the retired, of the thirteen, five are originally from outside the Diocese. Of the thirty-four licensed clergy listed in the 2009 Yearbook, only eighteen have received any formal theological formation. This has been a purely late twentieth century development of a solution to the perennial shortages of clergy and finance. It remains to be seen whether the Diocese will be able to maintain its separate identity into the late twenty-first century, or even its Anglicanism, as the memories of England continue to fade, congregations get more and more aged and more significant challenges to the received norms of doctrine and discipline come from other parts of the Communion.

17 All figures are from Year Book, 2007-2009, Diocese of Rockhampton. 252

Religious Self-fashioning as a Motive in Early Modern Diary Keeping: The Evidence of Lady Margaret Hoby's Diary 1599-1603

Travis Robertson University of Queensland

Although it has received little attention from scholars, the Diary of Lady Margaret Hoby provides an invaluable insight into early modern English puritan piety. From its torn and faded entries a vivid narrative of early modern religiosity emerges. This paper critically examines the influence that the diary and its religiosity exerted on the identity of Lady Margaret Hoby. Using evidence from the diary itself and Hoby‟s social milieu as well as evidence found in contemporary conduct books, the diary will be interpreted as a document in which Hoby fashioned a liberating self-identity, which contextualized her own existence, constructed via a serial narrative, within the eschatological meta-narrative of English Calvinism. Through this process it will be suggested that the diary became a material site wherein Hoby‟s religious self could be legitimized and maintained, protected from the political and religious uncertainties of Yorkshire in the last years of Queen Elizabeth I‟s reign.

The diary of Lady Margaret Hoby, which she kept during the last years of the reign of Elizabeth I, is both distinctive in its period and reflective of its period. Hoby was not alone in writing a diary in early-modern England. Diaries from Simon Forman, John Dee and earlier Henry Machyn were edited from manuscript sources in the nineteenth century. 1 William Matthews' survey of early modern diaries concludes that early instances of diary writing had distinctive purposes, especially religious purposes.2 In Yorkshire, Hoby's contemporary Archbishop Tobie Matthew was also a diarist and many English Calvinists used some form of written self- examination and reflection.3 Neither was Hoby unusual in her standard of education and her capacity to actually write a diary.4 She was brought up in circles focussed on the education of both boys and girls and her education provided her with the literary skills to write a diary and the religious impulses to do so.5 This paper will examine the circumstances of Hoby's

1 Simon Forman, The Autobiography and Personal Diary of Dr Simon Forman, ed. J.O. Halliwell , London: Camden Society, 1849; John Dee, The Private Diary of Dr. John Dee, and the Catalogue of His Library of Manuscripts from the Original Manuscripts in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, and Trinity College Library, Cambridge, ed. J.O. Halliwell London, Camden Old Series, 1842; Henry Machyn, The Diary of H. Machyn, Citizen and Merchant Taylor of London, AD1550 to AD 1563, ed. J.G. Nichols, London,Camden Society, 1848. 2 William Matthews, British Diaries: An Annotated Bibliography of British Diaries Written between 1442 and 1942, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1967. 3 Tobie Matthew, The diary and journal of His Grace Toby Matthew, Lord Archbishop of York : from the 3d. Sept. MDLXXXIII to the 23d Sunday after Trinity MDCXXII. 1583- 1622, Wakefield, Micro Methods, 1964. 4 Helen M. Jewell, Education in Early Modern England, Basingstoke, Macmillan, 1998. 5 Claire Cross, The Puritan Earl: the Life of Henry Hastings Third Earl of Huntingdon, London, Macmillian, 1966. Hoby‘s mother-in-law, Elizabeth, later Lady Russell, was one of the five celebrated daughters of Sir Anthony Cooke (1504 – 1576) who was tutor to 253 personal religiosity and her broader cultural and ecclesiastical context, which makes sense of not only the writing but also of the content of her diary. In examining the reasons why Hoby wrote her diary, this paper will pursue two associated issues. Firstly it will argue that the self-fashioning process that new historicist scholars have recently identified in sixteenth- century spiritual journals was a response to religious dogma.6 In Hoby's case, this dogma was manifested in Calvinist soteriology. Secondly this paper will seek to explain why the diary became the chief instrument of Hoby's self-fashioning process. Stressing Hoby's emphasis on predestination, election and assurance entailed in this soteriology, the ability of a diary to aid in the salvific process will be evaluated. The sources and influence of Calvinist theories of salvation on Hoby will also be interpreted. Through this analysis, it will be asserted that Hoby's diary was created as a tool and functioned as a means by which she could monitor her life and search for signs of election. Furthermore it facilitated the creation of an inward personal religious identity for which it provided a temporal context and anchoring. Because of these factors, it will be argued that the diary operated as a means by which Hoby was able to locate herself within an eschatological meta-narrative.

Yorkshire gentry and Hoby's education In order to assess how the self-fashioning process, evident in Hoby's diary, was a response to religious dogma, the nature of that religiosity and its connection with her historical context must be characterized within her social milieu. It is necessary to place Hoby within the context of reformed religion in Elizabethan Yorkshire. After this contextualising detail, Hoby's personal background and education will be examined to show how she understood and was influenced by her religion. Northern religiosity has received significant scholarly scrutiny and historians argue that the archdiocese of York operated under conditions and with preoccupations distinct from the Church of England in southern England. The imprisonment of Mary Queen of Scots in northern England and the longstanding problem of gave particular shape to the activities of the northern Church. Peter Lake and Ronald Marchant have independently argued a distinct manifestation of Protestantism developed in the Northern Province and the priorities of churchmen and prominent laity, especially on the Council of the North, were shaped by particular circumstances.7

Edward VI. See Marjorie McIntosh, ‗Sir Anthony Cooke: Tudor Humanist, Educator, and Religious Reformer,‘ Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 12 June 1975, pp. 233-250. More recently Brenda James and William Rubinstein have also disscussed the education of Cooke‘s daughters. Idem, The Truth Will Out: Unmasking the Real Shakespeare ,New York, Longman, 2005, p. 101. 6 For a classic statement of early modern self-fashioning see Stephen Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-fashioning: From More to Shakespeare, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1980. 7 Ronald Marchant, The Puritans and the Church Courts in the , 1560- 1642, London, Longmans, 1960; Idem, The Church under the law : Justice, Administration and Discipline in the Diocese of York, 1560-1640, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 254

Despite its distinctiveness the diocese of York, where Hoby was born, educated and spent almost all of her life, also faced some similar challenges as did the . The Elizabethan Church's primary concern was the establishment of a Protestant settlement wherein the great majority of the English people could be accommodated. As Marchant has suggested, the Church in Yorkshire was therefore divided into various factions. The London-based government experienced a major recusant revolt in 1569.8 After this revolt enforcement of conformity became a key concern for central government and its northern organs, the archbishopric and the Council of the North. Both spiritual and temporal authorities, therefore worked together to ensure the spread of Protestantism. Elizabeth's first archbishop of York, Thomas Young, who was also made Lord President of the Council of the North, established the precedent of cooperation and convergence between archbishop and Council continued by later presidents and primates such as Matthew Hutton. The reality of the problem of Roman recusancy, which made itself felt in the revolt of 1569, led to the appointment of his successor , partnered with Hoby's guardian, Henry Earl of Huntingdon in a similar alliance. Grindal saw education as the key to conversion of recusants. As such he worked hard to recruit educated clergy for his diocese while establishing examinations designed to prevent the uneducated from gaining livings. Both Grindal and Huntingdon were content to ignore, and even encourage, the activities of puritan conforming clergy. Breaches of canons and regulations did not become an issue in the Northern Province and especially Yorkshire until Grindal's successor ' violent quarrels with the Dean and Chapter of Durham. But even then the archbishop's general position was that of a conformist reformer. He continued and extended Grindal's programme of education even if he opposed extreme Calvinists. Whatever Sandys' position, the authority of the Council of the North encouraged experimental Calvinism, a stance revealed by Huntingdon's defence of the Dean of York's orders when the their validity was challenged by Archbishop Sandys on the basis of their Genevan (rather than episcopal) origins.9 Thus Hoby's education in the Huntingdon's household was informed by the fears of Roman recusancy, ambivalence towards non- conformist theology and the conviction that education was the key to moderating both. Although Hoby was brought up in a self-consciously godly environment, her diary reveals that her education and upbringing played a key role in her eventual devotion. Born Margaret Dakins sometime in early 1570, she was baptized on February 10 in Wintringham Church, North Yorkshire. As an only child, she became heiress to a substantial fortune in land and thus was an attractive marriage proposition, a point substantiated

1969; Peter Lake, Moderate Puritans and the Elizabethan Church , Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1982. 8 K. J. Kesselring, ‗A Cold Pye for the Papistes‘: Constructing and Containing the Northern Rising of 1569,‘ The Journal of British Studies 43, no. 4, 2004, pp. 417-443. 9 Bishopthorpe MSS., bundle 28 no. 19. 1 October, 1578. Reprinted in Marchant, The Puritans and the Church, p. 19. 255 by her three successive marriages.10 It is most likely that this status was the motive behind her parents' decision to send her to live with Henry Hastings, the fourth Earl Huntingdon, sometime during the 1580s. Having inherited his father's estates in 1560 when only twenty-three, Huntingdon and his wife Katherine Dudley the daughter of the Duke of Northumberland, 'transformed their household into a Protestant seminary in miniature' employing as their chaplains the likes of Antony Gilby, a Marian exile who contributed to the translations and annotations of the Geneva Bible. From their house at Ashby-de-la-Zouche in Leicestershire, the Huntingtons, having no children of their own, established a kind of finishing school for the daughters of the godly gentry and nobility. This education was directly supervised by Countess Huntington, an enthusiastic Calvinist with links to both the Queen and the interventionist party in parliament. Judging her institution a success, the Countess declared in 1618 'I think there will none maeke questen but i knoe how to breed and govern yong gentlewomen.' Throughout her life, Hoby maintained connections with Calvinist gentry throughout Yorkshire. Her diary records her friendships and conversations with godly women who shared her religious outlook, including the wife of Matthew Hutton, the Archbishop of York. At Ashby- de-la-Zouche, Hoby received the reformist education of a gentlewoman. Its principle pedagogy being instruction through catechism, women like Hoby would have been taught: 'To be sober minded, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, housewifely, good, obedient to their husbands; that the word of God be not evil spoken of.'11 With this goal in mind Hoby was taught domestic skills, like weaving and sewing, but also to read and to write because according to contemporary godly thought: 'Reading if for nothing else… is very needful for religion, to read that which they must know and ought to perform.'12 The Huntingdons had an ample supply of books written for and dedicated to them, wherein the principles of their religion were defined. One such work, a translation of the Commentaries of John Calvin upon the Prophet Daniel, was written 'especially for the vse of the family of the ryght honorable Earle of Huntingdon.'13 The work set forth Calvin's methodology for reading the Bible, suggesting that the Scriptures would be most profitably read 'by consideryng the text, meditatyng the sense therof, and by

10 Extracts from the Hoby courtship correspondence are found in John Packer and George Matthew Fortescue, The Fortescue papers: consisting chiefly of letters relating to state affairs, collected by John Packer, secretary to George Villiers duke of Buckingham, ed. Samuel Gardiner, Vol. I, Westminster , The Camden society, 1871, i-xxv. 11 Thomas Becon, The Catechism, John Ayre (ed), Cambridge, The Parker Society, 1844, p. 376. Orginally published 1559. 12 Richard Mulcaster, Positions vvherin those primitiue circumstances be examined, which are necessarie for the training vp of children, either for skill in their booke, or health in their bodie. VVritten by Richard Mulcaster, master of the schoole erected in London anno. 1561. in the parish of Sainct Laurence Povvntneie, by the vvorshipfull companie of the merchaunt tailers of the said citie, London, Thomas Vautrollier, 1581, p. 167. 13 Jean Calvin, Commentaries of the diuine Iohn Caluine, vpon the prophet Daniell, translated into Englishe, especially for the vse of the family of the ryght honorable Earle of Huntingdon, to set forth as in a glasse, how one may profitably read the Scriptures, by consideryng the text, meditatyng the sense therof, and by prayer, trans. Anthony Gilby, London, Imprinted by Iohn Daye, 1570, p. 1. 256 prayer.'14 Later Hoby recorded her daily reading of the Bible using this method, writing: 'I wret notes out into my bible, and after went a walkinge with Mr Hoby, and then returned into examination and praier: after, I reed of the bible, and walked alone.'15 The primary motive behind Calvin's combination of reading, reflection and paryer, was his concern for election. According to Calvinst soteriology God had already appointed the eternal destiny of some to salvation by grace, while leaving the remainder to receive eternal damnation for their sins. Because of this doctrine, the search for signs of election dominate Calvinist piety in England and elsewhere in Europe. The sixteenth-century English Calvinist John Rogers stressed the necessity of activities which later characterized Hoby's diary keeping and daily self-scrutiny: 'by shutting up the Day in Examination, and viewing it over‘ the believer would be able to 'daily looke what we gaine or lose that we may procure to ourselves thereby most sound safetie.'16 Hoby's modern editor Joanna Moody emphasises that this constant assessment of every action, practised with the help of the Scriptures was the way 'to improve the inner self and receive salvation in the execution of one's calling, and diligence in such a matter was therefore a means to avoid sin.'17 While it is certain that Hoby acquired many of her devotional practices while living with the Huntingdons, it is impossible to know whether or not she found the impetus for her diary while at Ashby-de-la-Zouche. The Huntingdons themselves had imbibed and then inculcated religious practices which make sense of the writing and the content of Hoby's diary. While Hoby's religious upbringing, ecclesial context and indeed the primary texts of her education can be reconstructed, the origins and development of the puritan spiritual diary has eluded historians and literary critics alike. Webster has noted that in the godly tradition 'there is a dearth of exhortations specifically to keep diaries' despite the constant encouragement of self-examination in Calvinist authors.18 Webster argues that the religious instruction and textual material of English Calvinism does not automatically lead to diary writing. Richard Rogers, whom Hoby mentions having read, was among the first to employ the metaphor of account keeping in advocating for self-examination, but he does not explicitly advocate diary keeping, besides which his Seven Treatises did not appear until 1603, several years after Hoby had begun writing. From around the middle of the seventeenth century many divines began to

14 Timothy Bright, A treatise of melancholie Containing the causes thereof, & reasons of the strange effects it worketh in our minds and bodies: with the physicke cure, and spirituall consolation for such as haue thereto adioyned an afflicted conscience By T. Bright doctor of physicke, London, Imprinted by Thomas Vautrollier, 1586. 15 British Library (hereafter BL), MS Egerton 2614, p. 18. 16 Richard Rogers, Seauen treatises Containing such direction as is gathered out of the Holie Scriptures, leading and guiding to true happinesse, both in this life, and in the life to come: and may be called the practise of Christianitie. Profitable for all such as heartily desire the same: in the which, more particularly true Christians may learne how to lead a godly and comfortable life euery day, notwithstanding their tribulations. First penned, and now set forth the fourth time, corrected and enlarged by Richard Rogers, preacher of the word of God at Wethersfield in Essex, London, Imprinted by Iohn Dawson, 1627, pp. 526- 527. First Published 1603. 17 Joanna Moody, ‗Introduction,‘ in Joanna Moody (ed), The Private Life of an Elizabethan Lady : The Diary of Lady Margaret Hoby, xix , Thrupp, Sutton Publishing, 1998. 18 Webster, ‗Writing to Redundancy,‘ p. 38. 257 advocate diary keeping to assist in examination. But by this time their exhortations reflected a practical necessity. Archbishop Tobie Matthew of York kept a diary recording his preaching schedule. But his diary recorded places and times rather than the content of the sermons. The case of Nehemiah Wallington demonstrates that the practice 'remained more or less an 'un-thought' for the first fifty years' as Webster suggests.19 Wallington, who was delighted to hear a sermon exhorting diary keeping in 1643, wrote that 'this matter…did like me well, because by God's mercy I practice it already.'20 In light of this response to diary keeping, the need to look beyond the simple advice of devotional manuals to find the reason behind Hoby's diary becomes apparent. This is not to argue, however, that Calvinist soteriology and Hoby's education did not influence her decision to keep a diary, but they cannot have been the sole factors.

New historicism and self-fashioning In order to interpret the origins and functions of Hoby's diary, it is necessary to look beyond the advice of contemporary manuals of devotion. The work of literary theorists has resulted in the application of new historicist theories to early modern spiritual journals. However new historicist scholars often privilege the influence of power relations, a focus that can lead to the religious motives behind the journals being obscured. As the medievalist David Aers notes: 'One simply cannot write the history of the subject in a culture where Christian beliefs and practices are pervasive without taking Christianity extremely seriously.'21 Similarly Brad Gregory has argued that historians risk misinterpretation if they ignore religion, writing; 'an action that might look non-religious and that could be interpreted plausibly in secular terms might have been motivated by and understood by its protagonist in religious terms.'22 The religious context of Hoby's diary cannot be ignored. As has already been shown, Hoby was influenced by a Calvinist education, which itself developed as a response to the particularity of the conditions in the Elizabethan diocese of York. Where new historicists seek to 'expose different historicial epistemes' it is also neccessary to recognize religion as a legitimate force in self-fashioning alongside 'conceptions of the state, the individual, culture and family'. 23 Indeed it is suprising given how new historicists privilege texts, that they have all but neglected the most extensively read and interpeted book of the period; the Bible. Possibly the new historicist focus on other texts is linked with their assumption that the modern self-orginated in the secular literature of the Renaissance. This assumption has resulted in a somewhat narrow range of works being studied. Combined with the literary critical background of the

19 Webster, ‗Writing to Redundancy,‘ p. 38. 20 Paul Seaver, Wallington‟s World : a Puritan Artisan in Seventeenth-century London, London, Methuen, 1985, p. 11. 21 David Aers, ‗A whisper in the ear of early modernists; or, reflections on literary critics writing the ‗History of the Subject‘ ,‘ Culture and History 1350 – 1600, 177-202, London, 1992. 22 Brad Gregory, ‗The Other Confessional History: On Secular Bias in the Study of Religion,‘ History and Theory, no. 45, 2006, p. 133. 23 John Brannigan, New Historicism and Cultural Materialism, New York, St. Martin's Press, 1998, p. 8 258 movement's chief proponents, it has placed the focus primarily on works with perceived artistic merit, such as poetry or narratives. Where other works have been examined they have tended to be what the Dutch historian Jacob Presser termed an egodocument. Rudolf Dekker, who introduced the concept of egodocuments into English, defines such works as 'texts in which the author tells us something about his or her personal feelings.'24 More broadly an egodocument can be characterized as any work in which its author is the primary actor. It should not surprise then, that new historicists locate the modern self in the early modern period as the origins of the diary genre have often been located in early modern Europe. However their assumption that texts are the key site for the development of the self ignores other arenas in which the self can be constructed. Outside of a diary images of self are constructed in visual arts with portraits and sculpture appearing in ancient classical civilizations. Likewise John Dugan has identified self- fashioning in ancient Roman oratory traditions arguing that the process is evident in the speeches of Cicero.25 The work of scholars outside new historicism on the construction of the self cast serious doubt on the assumption that the modern self originated during the Renaissance.

Hoby's diary and the self-fashioning process The identity Hoby cultivated in her diary was a response to the demands of her religion, not an expression of individuality built on a Renaissance rediscovery that the self could be deliberately fashioned. Hoby's education did not equip her with the language skills needed to rediscover classical models. An observation from one of her contemporaries, Lady Grace Mildmay, assists in clarifying why Hoby wrote a diary, noting that that self- reflection was 'not to subject my self unto mine own will, and frame me to bear patiently whatsoever adversity should assault me in this world'.26 Mildmay received an education in its intentions and outcomes which reflected Hoby's. Paradoxically, this emphasis on subservience and submission to divine will facilitated a godly emphasis on self, not least through diary writing. This emphasis on the self was defined, as Cilfford Geertz has argued, within a distinctive cultural context, which in Hoby's case can been reconstructed as Calvinist.27 Hoby understood herself as being tainted with 'an inward Rebellion, whereby it doth utterly abhor that which is good; and will; and desire onely that which is evil', a trait she inherited from Adam's fall.28 This inner will prompted the body's 'fitness to execute sin, even so soon as the heart thinketh it.'29 Hoby's self-examination was not therefore designed to help

24 Rudolf Dekker, ‗Ego-documents in the Netherlands 1500-1814,‘ Dutch Crossing: A Journal of Low Countries Studies, 1989: 61. 25 John Dugan, Making a New Man : Ciceronian Self-fashioning in the Rhetorical Works, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2005 26 Quoted in Felicity Heal and Clive Holmes, The Gentry in England and Wales, 1500- 1700, London: Macmillan, 1994, p. 250. 27 Clifford Geertz, ‗From Native‘s Point of View,‘ in Idem, Local Knowledge: Further Essays in Interpretive Anthropology, pp. 55-70, New York, Basic Books, 1983. 28 William Perkins, An abridgement of the whole body of divinity extracted from the learned works of that ever-famous and reverend divine, Mr. William Perkins, ed. Thomas Nicholas, London, Printed by W.B, 1654, p. 33. 29 Perkins, An abridgement of the whole body of divinity, p. 34. 259 eradicate sin since she believed that she was inherently sinful. Rather by examination she might be able to search for signs that her sin was forgiven. The seventeenth-century eschatological writer William Perkins30 reflected this anxiety, writing: 'We are so defiled with sin, that we often doubt, least we haue no fellowship with God.'31 Webster, drawing on a series of sermons from the mid-seventeenth century, has suggested that this anxiety was overcome as believers sought to fashion a new religious self after renouncing and purging their sinful or earthly self.32 This characterization is based on the assumption that self-denial was a key element in the salvific process. Webster cites a sermon delivered by Stephen Marshall in 1649 as evidence of this practice.33 Marshall's sermon, focusing on the passage 'let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me,' from Matthew 16:24 identified two selves, one worldly which was to be denied and the other which should be taken to Christ.34 Marshall's call for renunciation of the worldly self is an echo of earlier authors. Perkins, whose works Hoby read, suggests a process of enlightenment and regeneration, writing of the need 'to become nothing in our selues, that we may be in all forth of our selves in Christ.35 Both authors also stressed that because 'we are so defiled with sinne',36 'sincere endeavours to doe Gods service' are more important than 'the successe of these endeavours.'37 Despite this assurance, the believer is never without sin and must therefore confess 'with an humbled heart' to gain

30 William Perkins, 1558-1602, protestant clergyman and Cambridge theologian who was one of the foremost leaders of the Puritan movement in the Church of England. Hoby mentions reading his works in ten separate entries. See BL MS Egerton 2614. [Dec. 1 1599, Jan 7 1599, Jan. 27 1599, Feb. 3 1599, Feb. 17 1599, Mar. 9 1600, April 27 1600, July 5 1601] 31 William Perkins, A case of conscience the greatest that euer was, how a man may know, whether he be the son of God or no. Resolued by the vvord of God. Whereunto is added a briefe discourse, taken out of Hier. Zanchius, Edinburgh, Printed by Robert VValde-graue, 1592, p. 2. 32 Webster, ‗Writing to Redundancy,‘ pp. 42-44. 33 Stephen Marshall, c.1594-1655, protestant non-conformist clergyman with Presbyterian leanings, who nevertheless held significant sway in public opinion influencing elections for the Short Parliament of 1640, later during the restoration his remains were exhumed and maltreated. 34 Stephen Marshall, The vvorks of Mr Stephen Marshall, late minister of the Gospel at Finching-Field in Essex. And since at Ipswitch in Suffolk. The first part. Viz. I. Of Christ‟s intercession. And of sins of infirmity. II. The high priviledge of beleevers. They are the sons of God. III. Faith the only means spiritually to feed on Christ. IV. Of self-denial. V. The saints duty to keep their heart in a good frame, etc. VI. The mystery of spiritual life. Attested by Ralph Venning. Thomas Lye. Thomas Jacomb, London, printed by Peter Cole, and Edward Cole, 1661, Sermon 4. 35William Perkins The foundation of Christian religion gathered into sixe principles. And it is to be learned of ignorant people, that they may be fit to heare sermons with profit, and to receiue the Lords Supper with comfort, London, Printed by the widow Orwin , 1597, p. 248. 36 William Perkins, A case of conscience, Edinburgh, Printed by Robert VValde-graue, 1592, p. 7. 37 Stephen Marshall, Reformation and desolation, or, A sermon tending to the discovery of the symptomes of a people to whom God will by no meanes be reconciled. Preached to the honourable House of Commons at their late solemne fast, Decemb. 22, 1641, London, Printed for Samuel Gellibrand, 1642, p. 6. 260 the forgiveness which is essential for salvation.38 Hoby's diary entries reveal this process, as her entry for Monday August 13, 1599, demonstrates:

In the Morninge after priuat praiers and order taken for diner, I wrett some notes in my testament tell: 10: a clock : then I went to walk, and, after I retourned home, I praied priuatly, read a chapter of the bible…then I wrett out the sarmon into my book preached the day before, and when I had again gone about the house and giuen order for supper…I retourned to examination and praier : then I walked tell supper time and after Catichisinge, meditated awhill of that I had hard, with mourninge to god for pardon both of my omition and Commition wherin I found my selfe guilte…39

This discipline of prayer and written exercise dominated Hoby's daily life, at least as can be judged from the six years narrated in the diary. In spite of her efforts in self scrutiny, she acknowledged the reality and potency of her sin; she called these 'omitions and commitions.' The guilt and mourning she feels because of her sins reflects Perkins' demand for a humbled heart. By meditation and memorisation of sermons and scripture, a practice facilitated through writing down salient passages from Scripture and epitomes of sermons in her diary, Hoby internalised their messages, which she amalgamated with her guilt as a defence against sin. This point is further strengthened by the connection she made between sickness and sin. Again her diary provides evidence for this point, especially her observation that she: 'went to bed, god hauinge a Litle afflected me with sickness for a great desart: the Lord grant me true repentance for all my sinnes'40 Illness, as Hoby portrayed it in the diary, is a metaphor for the spiritual battle of self-denial which she felt she must endure. An entries from May 6, 1602, exemplify this point: 'I praise god I had health of body: how so euer Iustly god hath suffered satan to afflicte my mind, yet my hope is that my redeemer will bringe my soule out of troubles, that it may praise his name: and so I will waite wt patience for deliuerance'41 These entries show how she wrote her own struggles in to the eschatological meta-narrative. Here Hoby is crafting an individual identity within the established communal framework to which she is linked, not least as the sermons she hears as part of corporate worship at Hackness Church entered the diary as textual material for reflection and meditation. Her salvation, like that of creation, depended on God's deliverance. Hoby's identity, as constructed in her diary, allowed for the positioning of herself within the Calvinist teleology in which she had been educated. This is a critical point in understanding why she chose to keep a diary. From Hoby's reading and acceptance of this meta-narrative of grace, two key themes, which led to her genre choice, emerge. Firstly, implicit in any teleological system is some kind of grand story, that which has

38 William Perkins, A case of conscience the greatest that euer was, how a man may know, whether he be the son of God or no. Resolued by the vvord of God. Whereunto is added a briefe discourse, taken out of Hier. Zanchius, Edinburgh, Printed by Robert VValde-graue, 1592, p. 5. 39 BL, MS Egerton 2614, p. 4. 40 BL, MS Egerton 2614, p. 38. 41 BL, MS Egerton 2614, p. 190. 261 previously been termed a meta-narrative. This form is significant. A narrative has a beginning and an end. For Hoby, time was linear and finite.42 According to contemporary Calvinist belief, 'the worlde is not eternall: but that it was created of God' who would eventually destroy it.43 The biblical narrative was intertwined with the historical in works such as John Fox's Acts and Monuments, which traced the 'true martyrs of Christ…from the primitiue age to the later times.'44 Likewise works like William Leigh's Queene Elizabeth, paraleld in her princely vertues, which compared contemporary figures with biblical rulers and prophets, further blurred the lines between the scriptural narrative and history.45 Hoby felt that she was as much a direct participant in the biblical battle between God and Satan as those whose stories she read in order 'to prepare oure selues to the battaile, and to stand vppon our guarde'.46 Despite this sense of time and her place within it, Hoby's stance may not have been typical of her class or era. The preacher John Dove recorded that the belief in this narrative was not universal in his A sermon preached at Pauls Crosse where he defends the eschatological account of the end of the world against the 'two sortes of men that denie that the world shal haue an end, Philosophes and Atheists.'47 Hoby did not conform to either category. The diary entries in which she relates her own struggle with Satan and her concern for salvation reveal that

42 For the connection between time and diaries see; Ronald Bedford, ‗Early Modern Autobiography and Time,‘ in Early Modern English Lives: Autobiography and Self- representation, 1500-1660, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2007, pp. 15-39, and Stuart Sherman, Telling Time: Clocks, Diaries, and English Diurnal Form 1660-1785, Chicago,University of Chicago Press, 1996. 43 Jean Calvin, A commentarie of Iohn Caluine, vpon the first booke of Moses called Genesis: translated out of Latine into English, by Thomas Tymme, minister, trans. Thomas Tymme, London, Imprinted for Iohn Harison and George Bishop, 1578, p. 26. 44 John Foxe, Actes and monuments of matters most speciall and memorable, happening in the Church with an vniuersall history of the same. Wherein is set forth at large the whole race and course of the Church, from the primitiue age to these latter times of ours, with the bloudy times, horrible troubles, and great persecutions against the true martyrs of Christ, sought and wrought as well by heathen emperours, as now lately practised by Romish prelates, especially in this realme of England and Scotland. Now againe, as it was recognised, perused, and recommended to the studious reader by the author Maister Iohn Foxe, 5th New Imprint, London, Printed by Peter Short, 1596, p. 1. 45 William Leigh, Queene Elizabeth, paraleld in her princely vertues, with Dauid, Iosua, and Hezekia 1 With Dauid her afflictions, to build the Church 2 With Iosua in her puissance, to protect the Church· 3 With Hezechia in her pietie, to reforme the Chureh. In three sermons, as they were preached three seuerall Queenes dayes, London, Printed by Thomas Creede, 1612. See also Richard Curteys, A sermon preached at Greenevviche, before the Queenes Maiestie, by the reuerende Father in God the Bishop of Chichester, the 14. day of Marche.1573. Seene and allowed according to the order appoynted, London, Imprinted by Henry Bynneman, 1597. For a modern critique see Graeme Murdock, ‗The Importance of being Josiah: An Image of Calvinist Identity ,‘ The Sixteenth Century Journal 29, no. 4, 1998, pp. 1043-1059. 46 Andreas Hyperius, The course of Christianitie: or, As touching the dayly reading and meditation of the holy Scriptures very requisite and necessary for all Christians of what estate or condition soeuer: tvvo bookes. Translated out of Latine into English, by Iohn Ludham vicar of Wethersfeld, trans. John Ludham, London, Printed by Henry Bynneman, 1579, p. 6. 47 John Dove, A sermon preached at Pauls Crosse, the 3 of Nouember 1594. intreating of the second comming of Christ, and the disclosing of Antichrist. : With a confutation of diuerse coniectures concerning the end of the world, conteyned in a booke intituled, The second comming of Christ, London, Imprinted by V.S. for VVilliam Iaggard, 1594. 262 she subscribed to the Calvinist and Foxean narratives and conceptions of time.48 This Calvinist meta-narrative not only furnished history with a beginning point but it also predicted its end. Calvinism, like other confessions of early modern reformed Christianity, was especially concerned with eschatology.49 The emphasis on predestination and the search for signs of election, which it entailed, cast the shadow of the final judgement over every aspect of life. In her diary Hoby exhibited what Mary Lamb has called an 'acute awareness of time even to the hour.'50 She regarded time as extremely valuable and almost sacramental and any misuse or wastage met with grief, as in the entry for July 1, 1600: 'I praied, and then walked with a stranger with whom I hard little good talke, and therfor the time, as ill bestowed, I greeued for.'51 As a written document, the diary enabled Hoby to look back over her life and account for how time was spent, a practice, which must have comforted as much as it unnerved her. For example on April 1, 1605, when after 'readinge over some of my former spent time ' she regretted that 'thorow two much neccligence' she 'had a Longe time dissisted' from making 'a thankfull recorde' of 'godes benefittes and fauours.'52 This awareness intersected with the Calvinist meta-narrative to further strengthen Hoby's conception of time as linear. The diary also displays time linearly. Its entries are serialised one after another in succession, likewise it has a beginning and, as the concerns other diarists had for the privacy of their work after death show, it had a conceivable end. Unlike autobiography, however, the diary genre had immediacy because of its daily entries, a reflection of the sixteenth-century Chronicle tradition from English diaries emerged, it like Hoby herself, entails an acute awareness of time in a way different from the autobiography.53 The second key factor that led to Hoby's choice of the diary as her tool for self-fashioning stems from the act of writing entailed in producing a diary. It is significant that Hoby's diary, as preserved in its original but damaged manuscript form, is in her own hand. It is also significant that she wrote it down at all. She was educated in meditation and the diary reveals that she was able to examine herself without writing. The diary is not the site of examination; it merely presents a record of it. Of course the written form allows its author to re-read and through this relive the past, but it can be argued that this was not the only motive behind the choice of the diary.

48 BL, MS Egerton 2614, 192. 49 For English Calvinism and eschatological thought in this era see; Richard Bauckham, Tudor Apocalypse: Sixteenth Century Apocalypticism, Millennarianism and the English Reformation, Oxford, Sutton Courtenay Press, 1978; Katharine Firth, The Apocalyptic Tradition in Reformation Britain 1530-1645, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1979; and Bryan Ball, A Great Expectation: Eschatological Thought in English Protestantism to 1660, Vol. 12, Leiden, Brill, 1975. 50 Mary Ellen Lamb, ‗Margaret Hoby‘s Diary: Women‘s Reading practices and the Gendering of the Reformation Subject,‘ in Pilgrimage for Love: Essays in Early Modern Literature in Honor of Josephine A Roberts, Tempe, Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 1999, p. 67 51 BL, MS Egerton 2614, p. 88. 52 BL, MS Egerton 2614, p. 228. 53 Daniel R. Woolf, ‗Genre into Artefact: The Decline of the English Chronicle in the Sixteenth Century,‘ Sixteenth Century Journal, vol. 19, 1988, pp. 341-343. 263

Recently Heidi Hackel has shown that in early modern England 'reading and writing were…inextricably bound.'54 As already discussed, Calvinist pedagogy linked reading and writing as well as meditation. In the diary, Hoby seldom mentions reading without writing or making notes on what she reads or hears. Works such as Anthony Gilby's translation of Calvin's Commentaries vpon the prophet Daniell and John Ludham's translation of Andreas Hyperius' The course of Christianitie were complemented by original English expositions on Bible reading which encouraged 'discussing the Scriptures sufficiencie'55 and 'that shew how to reade with profit.'56 All advocated writing down useful passages, and some even encouraged, what Hackel has shown to be a common practice, annotating margins. Hoby herself made annotations, writing on Thursday December 20, 1599; 'I wrett in my bible all the after none.'57 The link between reading and writing is further strengthened by Hoby's record of her reading practices in the diary. Hoby's life was indeed 'saturated by print', as Lamb has observed.58 But it was also a life saturated by her own ink, in her testament, her sermon book and Bible, not to mention the diary.59 This

54 Heidi Hackel, Reading Material in Early Modern England, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2005, p. 52. 55 George Langford, Search the Scriptures. Or, An enquirie after veritie Discoursing of, and discussing the Scriptures sufficiencie. Perspicuitie. Necessitie. By George Langford, Bachelour of Diuinitie, and minister of Gods Word, at Mortlake, neere London, London, Printed by George Purslowe, 1623. 56 Nicholas Byfield, Directions for the priuate reading of the Scriptures wherein besides the number of chapters assigned to euery day, the order and drift of the whole Scriptures is methodically set downe: and choice rules (that shew how to reade with profit) are likewise giuen: the vse whereof is shewed in the preface. By Nicolas Bifeild preacher of Gods Word at Isleworth in Middlesexe, London, Printed by W. Stansby, 1626. 57 BL, MS Egerton 2614, p. 38. 58 Lamb, ‗Margaret Hoby‘s Diary,‘ p.1. 59 Hoby mentions many notebooks in her diary including; her common place book; ‗I praied, and after wrett some things in my commune place booke‘ January 9, 1599/1600, a sermon book; ‗I returned and wrett in my sarmon booke‘ January 15, 1599/1600, a table book; ‗wrett in my table book and did eate my breakfast‘ January 17, 1599/1600, her testament; ‗ I wrett the cheffe doctrines in my testement‘ January 23, 1599/1600. Sometimes she does not differentiate between her different notebooks as in the entry for January11, 1599/1600; ‗and againe wrett some medetations in to my book.‘ She frequently mentions reading from these books; ‗I praied priuatly, reed of the Testement, and then supper‘ January 4, 1599/1600, and ‗I did read of the testemente and bible‘ January, 27 1599/1600. Keeping notebooks was a common practice in the period. They were usually kept for educational purposes or as aides mémoir as Thomas Cooper, suggests; ‗a studious yong man, with small paines, by the helpe of this booke may gather to himselfe good furniture both of wordes and approoued phrases and fashions of speaking for any thing, that he shall eyther write or speake of, and so make vnto his vse, as it were a common place booke for such a purpose.‘ Thomas Cooper, Thesaurus linguae Romanae & Britannicae tam accurate congestus, vt nihil penè in eo desyderari possit, quod vel Latinè complectatur amplissimus Stephani Thesaurus, vel Anglicè, toties aucta Eliotae Bibliotheca: opera & industria Thomae Cooperi Magdalenensis. ... Accessit dictionarium historicum et poëticum propria vocabula virorum, mulierum, sectarum, populorum, vrbium, montium, & caeterorum locorum complectens, & in his iucundissimas & omnium cognitione dignissimas historias, London, Impressum Henry Denham, 1578, p. 5. Such books were also recomeded by religious authors such as Perkins who provides insight into their contense; ‗All things, which thou readest, are not to be written in thy book, but those things that are worthie to bee remembred, and are seldome met with-Neither must thou put the words of the Author in thy common places, but briefly note downe the principall points of stories and of things, that thou mayst know from what author to fetch them, when thou shalt 264 picture of Hoby as a woman comfortable in written expression provides a contrast to Webster's assertion that for Calvinists 'writing is distrusted as a diluted, secondary and dangerous medium.'60 Hoby does not reflect these ideas; not only does she write often and with ease, but she reserves the written word for the most important tasks, privileging it above speech. Hoby's practices are more usefully interpreted using Paul Salzman's assessment that 'women writers [in the seventeenth century]…are…not exactly common place, but far more common than was once thought possible.'61 This is not to deny that all of her contemporaries were as comfortable as was she. As Daniel Rogers expresses in his introduction to Naaman the Syrian 'You know no pencil can fully reach a living face: The Presse cannot comprehend the Pulpit, and writing of a Booke is but as the picture of a dead man, in comparison of a lively voice.'62 But Rogers was writing about a theological tract written with a different purpose and audience to a diary. Other authors such as William Perkins, whom Hoby read, suggested that a man's handwriting was more truthful than his word or actions.63 Sir Philip Sidney, Hoby's brother-in-law, in The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia uses his heroine's hand writing 'to beare testimony.'64 Similarily histories of the period frequently cite documents written by their subjects as evidence. James Carmichael's Newes from Scotland presents the 'true examination' of the 'damnable life and death of Doctor Fian a notable sorcerer' using a 'recorde vnder his owne hande writing.'65 Clearly early modern attitudes towards writing are more complex than Webster admits. It is not therefore surprising that Hoby should use this medium. By writing in her own hand Hoby was able to create a place for haue vse: and make a point in the author himselfe, that thou mayst know, that the thing is there handled, which thou wrotest in thy common-place booke‘ William Perkins, The arte of prophecying, or, A treatise concerning the sacred and onely true manner and methode of preaching first written in Latine by Master William Perkins ; and now faithfully translated into English (for that it containeth many worthie things fit for the knowledge of men of all degrees) by Thomas Tuke., trans. Thomas Tuke, London: Imprinted by Felix Kyngston, 1607, p. 29. 60 Webster, ‗Writing to Redundancy,‘ p. 41. 61 Paul Salzman, Reading Early Modern Women‟s Writing, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2006, p. 11. 62 Daniel Rogers, Naaman the Syrian his disease and cure discovering lively to the reader the spirituall leprosie of sinne and selfe-love, together with the remedies, viz. selfe-deniall and faith ... with an alphabeticall table, very necessary for the readers understanding to finde each severall thing contained in this booke, London, Printed by Th. Harper, 1642. 63 William Perkins, A treatise tending vnto a declaration whether a man be in the estate of damnation or in the estate of grace and if he be in the first, how he may in time come out of it: if in the second, how he maie discerne it, and perseuere in the same to the end. The points that are handled are set downe in the page following, London, Printed by R. Robinson, 1590, p. 168. 64 Philip Sidney, The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia, London, Printed by John Windet, 1590, p. 111. 65 James Carmichael, Newes from Scotland, declaring the damnable life and death of Doctor Fian a notable sorcerer, who was burned at Edenbrough in Ianuary last. 1591. Which doctor was regester to the diuell that sundry times preached at North Barrick Kirke, to a number of notorious witches. With the true examination of the saide doctor and witches, as they vttered them in the presence of the Scottish king. Discouering how they pretended to bewitch and drowne his Maiestie in the sea comming from Denmarke, with such other wonderfull matters as the like hath not been heard of at any time, London, Printed for William Wright, 1592, pp. 1, 6. 265 the self in the past that was enabled, by the continuing cycle of daily entries, to connect to the present. In the diary Hoby constructed her own narrative which she connected to the Calvinist meta-narrative. By using her own hand to write the entries Hoby strengthened the connection between the living self and the identity fashioned on the diary's pages. Her handwriting was unique to her and she was able to distinguish it from the writing of others just as the diary enabled her to distinguish her identity from others. As written records were seen as more reliable, the diary, being a written document, legitimised Hoby's constructed self.

Conclusion This paper has placed imperatives and motivations for Hoby having kept her diary in a meaningful context, which accounts for not only the content but also the production of the text itself. The self-fashioning process that new historicist scholars have identified in sixteenth century spiritual journals was a response to contemporary religious dogma. In Hoby's case, this dogma can be characterized as Calvinist soteriology. Secondly this paper has explained why the diary became the chief instrument in Hoby's self-fashioning process. By suggesting that puritan spiritual journals, such as Hoby's, evolved from the dogmas of Calvinist soteriology, scholars have assessed the importance and significance of reading and reflection within this tradition. Accepting the emphasis on predestination, election and assurance, entailed in this soteriology the ability of the diary to aid in the salvific process has been evaluated. The sources and influence of Calvinist theories of salvation on Hoby have been identified as originating in her education, which was constructed as a response to the unique climate of the Church of England in Elizabethan Yorkshire. Because of this Hoby's diary was created as a tool in which she could monitor her life and search for signs of election. The personal nature of this enterprise, which was almost exclusively concerned with its author, facilitated the creation of an inward personal religious identity for which it provided a temporal context. Through this the diary operated as a means by which Hoby was able to locate herself within the Calvinist eschatological meta-narrative.

266

The Influence of Ecumenical Movements in empowering Australian Anglican Women.

Mavis Rose The University of Queensland

The term „ecumenism‟ is derived from the Greek word „oikumene‟ – the whole inherited world. Ecumenism is usually associated with interaction between members of different denominations, conscious that followers of Jesus have a commitment to seek unity with fellow Christians. Historically, ecumenism is a relatively modern concept: it is an acknowledgement of the need to eliminate the acrimony which has resulted from centuries of religious division within Christianity. At the Anglican diocesan level, interdenominational dialogue and action has been, and still is, mainly carried out under the direction of church leaders and their appointees. However, as I hope to reveal in this paper, there exists, especially among churchwomen, a grassroots type of ecumenism which has been effective in encouraging women to challenge ecclesial systems which have gender discrimination built into their basic structures.

The term ‗ecumenism‘ is derived from the Greek word ‗oikumene‘ – the whole inherited world. Ecumenism is usually associated with interaction between members of different denominations, conscious that followers of Jesus have a commitment to seek unity with fellow Christians. Historically, ecumenism is a relatively modern concept, It is an acknowledgement of the need to eliminate the acrimony which has resulted from centuries of religious division within Christianity. At the Anglican diocesan level, interdenominational dialogue and action has been, and still is, mainly carried out under the direction of church leaders and their appointees. However, as I hope to reveal in this paper, there exists, especially among churchwomen, a grassroots type of ecumenism which has been effective in encouraging women to challenge ecclesial systems which have gender discrimination built into their basic structures. One of the early Australian interdenominatonal women‘s groups to form was the Women‘s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU), founded in 1885 on the initiative of a member of the American WCTU, which had close links with the American women‘s suffrage movement. In the 1890s, when Australia was in the grip of a severe Depression, the WCTU argued that women could work equally well as a man and had equal need of an income. The prevailing attitude in Australian society was that a man was the wage earner by right but a woman only by necessity. The hardship for housebound women was that so much of men‘s wages were spent on liquor, leaving insufficient funds for family living expenses. Australian Anglican clergy did not encourage their churchwomen to associate with the WCTU, although a small number of Anglican women choose to do so. In 1887, two years after the WCTU‘s foundation, Bishop Field Flowers Goe of Melbourne supported the foundation of a separate Church of England Temperance Society in which moderate drinkers and total abstainers could work together ‗in the crusade against the vice of

267 drunkenness‘.1 Bishop Goe‘s initiative was supported by Bishop William of Sydney. The small, diocesan-organised branches of the Church of England Temperance Society which formed, all led by men, mainly clerics, were an example of the extent to which Anglican leaders went to isolate their churchwomen from more radical and politicised Christian women. The early granting of the vote to Australian women helped to avoid the heated struggles between women and church leaders on the issue of suffrage which occurred in the Church in England until 1919. Education was a very important factor in encouraging Australian Anglican women to broaden their outlook beyond the domestic sphere. Those more affluent young Anglican women who continued their education into universities or training colleges often linked up with ecumenical student groups such as the Inter-Collegiate Christian Union, the forerunner of the Evangelical Union (EU), and the Student Christian Movement (SCM), the local branch of the World Federation of Students, founded in 1895. From its inception, the SCM took a broader view of religious life and doctrine than the EU, placing less emphasis on the evangelistic aspects of Christian work, giving more weight to social justice issues. It was not surprising that many of the founding members of the World Council of Churches had previous connections with the SCM.2 At the more official and approved levels of Christian interaction, missionary associations, and in particular the World Missionary Conference held in Edinburgh in 1910, together with the World Student Christian Federation, are also regarded as forerunners of the present ecumenical movements. Non-denominational organizations such as the Young Men‘s Christian Association (YMCA) and Young Women‘s Christian Association (YWCA), formed in the nineteenth century, can also claim to have played an important part in bringing together young people of differing denominations. When in June 1928, Maude Royden, the leader of the English Anglican movement to ordain women, cited in the Church Chronicle of 1st June as á ‗brilliant preacher‘, visited Brisbane, she was not permitted to speak in Anglican churches. She was forced to use the YMCA and Exhibition Hall as preaching venues. The establishment of the World Council of Churches in 1948 in the immediate aftermath of World War II, with its headquarters in Geneva, raised the status of ecumenism to a higher, more internationally recognised level, despite the decision of the largest Christian denomination, Roman Catholicism, not to join, The structures of the WCC to some extent mirrored those of the United Nations Organisation. The WCC‘s aim was to achieve ‗justice, peace and the integrity of creation‘. The new ecumenical movement was not universally accepted by all non-Roman Catholic denominations. As happens so much in Christian history, a major divide developed between those who promoted a social gospel and those who believed that evangelism based on the Bible was paramount. For evangelicals, the World Evangelical Fellowship (WEF) and

1 Cited in Church Messenger, 13 October, 1887. 2 According to Church of England priest, Oliver Tomkins, who was associate general secretary of the WCC from its formation until 1953, ‘there is a quip that the WCC is the SCM in long pants’. Tomkins was later principal of Lincoln College and Bishop of Bristol. 268 the Lausanne Committee for World Evangelization (LCWE) became the preferred bodies for Christian interaction at a global level. Many evangelicals suspected the WCC was too politically radical. There was another difference between these ecumenical movements. While the WCC is a council of member churches, members of WEF and LCWE consist of fellowships, mission agencies, and individuals. In practice, there is a degree of overlap between the two bodies.3 A problem for Christians living in areas such as the Asia/Pacific region has been that the centre of gravity of the major ecumenical bodies is in Europe and North America. For grassroots Christians in Australia, ecumenism has consisted primarily of inter-denominational meetings, both for worship and social activities. In many towns and suburbs, clergy of differing denominations, including Roman Catholics, meet regularly for discussions in a spirit of ‗fraternity‘. For Australian churchwomen, their interaction with Christians of differing denominations has been primarily concerned with invitations to morning teas, special speakers, missions, bible studies, concerts, fetes, dances, carol services and yearly Women‘s Day of Prayer services. Because of the strong political and cultural divide which has existed in Australia between Protestants and Roman Catholics, Anglican churchwomen up until the 1960s tended to interact more with the mainstream Protestant churches than with Roman Catholic and Orthodox women. The Australian SCM was different in its attitudes toward the roles churchwomen could play. It was prepared to allow women to hold positions of responsibility and leadership at its senior levels. For example, from 1933 to 1941, Margaret Holmes, an Anglican woman (originally Congregationalist) with a Master‘s degree in Classics from the University of Melbourne, served as Vice-Chairman of the World Student Christian Federation and was also a leader in the Australian SCM (ASCM). Bishop David Garnsey of Gippsland, who worked under Margaret Holmes in the ASCM while a young priest, recalled the situation:

It was uncommon in those days for a woman to hold such a position, but I think that no one, certainly none of her colleagues, male or female, thought it anything but exactly right that she did so. There was very little racism or sexism in the ASCM.4

Since the first decade of the twentieth century, one of the most contentious women‘s issues in the Anglican Communion was the ordination of women, and whether deaconesses were part of the threefold order of priesthood or in an order sui generis. In Australia, the mainstream Protestant churches pioneered women‘s ordination to ministry. In June 1927, the Congregational Church in Adelaide ordained to ministry the Rev. Winifred Kiek. Ten years later, in 1937, the Rev. Isabelle Merry was

3 For a deeper discussion of this issue, see D.J. Bosch, ‘‘Ecumenicals’ and ‘Evangelicals’: a Growing Relationship?’ in The Ecumenical Review, Vol. 40, Nos. 3-4, July-October 1988, pp. 458-472. 4 Cited in Rosalie McCutcheon, ‘Margaret Holmes: Larger than the Roles She Played’, in S. Willis (ed.), Women, Faith and Fetes: Essays in the History of Women and the Church in Australia, Melbourne, Dove, 1973, p. 114. 269 ordained a minister by a Congregational Church in Melbourne. Both these women were also heavily involved in ecumenism. In 1946, prior to the inauguration of the World Council of Churches, Winifred Kiek carried out a questionnaire on ‗Women in the Church‘. Her findings were incorporated into a report on ‗The Status of Women in the Church‘, which was presented to the First Assembly of the WCC in 1949. In response to the issues raised in this Report, a Commission on the Life and Work of Women in the Church was formed under the leadership of Sarah Chakko of the Orthodox Syrian Church of Malabar. Winifred Kiek was appointed a member of this Commission. In 1952, she represented Australia at the WCC consultation in Oxford, and also was appointed a convenor of the Commission on the Cooperation of Men and Women set up by the Australian Council of Churches. Rev. Isabelle Merry was an Australian delegate to the WCC‘s Third Assembly in New Delhi in 1961. The women involved in the formation processes of the WCC were strongly committed to improving prevailing attitudes towards churchwomen. Twila Cavert, a Presbyterian, and the leader of the YWCA in America, played a major role in inspiring Willem Visser ‗t Hooft, the first general secretary of the WCC, to include the issue of the place of women in the church in the WCC‘s agenda. English Anglican scholar, Dr Kathleen Bliss, was also determined to ensure that women‘s issues were taken seriously. Bliss published a book, The Service and Status of Women in the Churches, covering topics such as the voluntary and professional service of women in churches, women and ordained ministry, and the participation of women in church government.5 The Roman Catholic decision not to participate fully in the WCC but instead send observers to its assemblies became problematic for Anglicans, especially for those who were in the Anglo-Catholic tradition. In the Lambeth Handbook for 1948, published prior to the First Assembly of the WCC held in 1949, concerns were expressed about the WCC‘s future ecumenical effectiveness without the Roman Catholics. Bishop A.E.J. Rawlinson of supported the participation of Anglicans in the WCC, maintaining that thee Anglican Church occupied an essentially mediating position, having points of contact with Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Lutheran and Calvinist churches.6 As mentioned previously, at parish levels in Australia, inter-denominational activity had usually been fairly low-key. However, in the period between World Wars I and II, Australian churchwomen began to formalise their interdenominational enterprises, establishing Women‘s Inter-Church Councils, later forming a national body under the title Australian Church Women. When in Sydney in 1938, the New South Wales Women‘s Inter- Church Council was inaugurated, Anglican women from Sydney who joined the Council had to do so unofficially up until 1958 because of Sydney Diocesan disapproval.7 This was an indication of how much Sydney

5 Kathleen Bliss, as a Cambridge University student, had been active in the SCM. Her husband had worked as a missionary in India in the 1930s for the YMCA. 6 A.E.J. Rawlinson, ‘Lambeth 1948’, The Ecumenical Review, Vol. 1, No. 2, 1948, pp. 170-191. 7 In 1958, the Archbishop of Sydney gave permission for Anglican women to be involved in the Council, although insisting that he appoint the eight representatives. 270

Diocesan leaders were determined to keep control of their churchwomen‘s activities, no doubt aware that both Congregational and Methodist churches were willing to admit women into ordained ministry. In the post-World War II period, Australian women were less house- bound, becoming more responsive to the counter-cultural currents of the 1960s. These liberal influences filtered through to parish churches, where progressive clergy and laity were also being stirred by new trends in theology and liturgy. In 1968, as the Vietnam War escalated, a coterie of Sydney churchwomen, including Roman Catholics became actively interested in justice and peace issues and the changing role of women in society. They decided to form an association, which they named Christian Women Concerned, under the auspices of the NSW branch of the ACC. In order to propagate their views more widely, the women in Christian Women Concerned decided to publish a magazine, which they named Magdalene, in which women‘s dissatisfaction with their position in the mainstream churches was strongly expressed. Magdalene ran from 1973 until 1987.8 Christian Women Concerned played an important part in influencing the New South Wales branch of the Australian Council of Churches to set up a Commission in 1973 to research the status of women in Australian Christianity. The Status of Women Commission was led by Jean Skuse, a Methodist, who had been an Executive member of the WCC and also a leader in the Australian Council of Churches. Marie Tulip, also a Methodist, who was active in both Christian Women Concerned and a member the Status of Women Commission, has written about this period in her life:

The Commission became the main centre for the huge explosion of feminist energy and activism in the area of religion in the 1970s and 1980s. This coincided with the development of feminist theology, which challenged traditional Christian theology and biblical studies as androcentric and oppressive to women. Women attacked the patriarchal language, symbols and images of the church and its hierarchical and sexist structures and authority patterns, which were destructive both in themselves and in the way they satisfied the same patterns of male domination in the family and other institutions of society.9

The Status of Women Commission held a conference in 1974 on the theme ‗Women‘s Liberation and the Church‘. More than one hundred people, predominantly women, attended from across Australia. Marie Tulip recalled that those attending discussed issues of exploitation of women‘s labour, of their exclusion from decision-making, and of the tendency to relegate women to the kitchen. ‗Underlying all this was a new freedom to share the experience of being women, a new energy to transform church and society‘.10 In a survey conducted by the N.S.W. Council of the Australian Council of Churches, 200 submissions concerning the status of women

8 Rev. Peter Hill of Melbourne commented that Magdalene was not the usual run of magazine for women that men like to read. See Church Scene, 17 July 1975. 9 See M. Tulip, ‘The Good Old Days of Activism’, in Women-Church: An Australian Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion, No. 40, Final Issue 2007. p.23. 10 Tulip, ‘The Good Old Days of Activism’, p.23. 271 were received, representing eleven denominations, including Anglican.11 In the submission from John Denton, as Registrar of the Anglican Diocese of Sydney, he admitted that women were not well represented on church bodies, commenting that in Sydney Synod, there were ‗three women parish representatives among 600 clerical and lay representatives‘.12 In other words, Sydney Anglican women had virtually no voice in the government of the Diocese. In the Status of Women‘s Commission‘s overall summary, it was noted that ‗there exists a deep-rooted resistance to change in the churches, which expresses itself in indirect or direct opposition, often humorously expressed, or in token gestures towards women who seek changes within the churches‘ structures or in the churches‘ attitude.‘13 Anglican women around Australia began to wake up to their subordinate position in the church through interacting with more radical Christian women‘s groups, many of which had close ties with the Australian Council of Churches and the WCC. This was a period when the ordination of women had begun to be widely debated across Australian Anglican dioceses and in General Synod. In 1974, news was received of the ordination to priesthood of eleven Episcopal Church deacons in Philadelphia, one being an Australian woman, Alison Cheek. A new pressure group named Anglican Women Concerned was formed in Sydney under the leadership of Colleen O‘Reilly Stewart.14 Women‘s issues were brought to the fore at the Fifth Assembly of the WCC in Nairobi in 1975. The Assembly acknowledged that, ‗despite efforts of the WCC in the past, the position of women, in both the Church and the world, has not changed significantly‘.15 A member of Christian Women Concerned, Dorothy McMahon, addressed the Assembly concerning the women‘s struggle in Australia, admitting that ‗I have not been able to find in the Church enough ways to share the pain and confusion of that struggle, nor enough celebration to express the hope I feel as I go through the resurrection process of finding myself‘.16 It was agreed at the

11 See Commission on the Status of Women, Australian Council of Churches, NSW State Council, Report of the Enquiry into the Status of Women in the Church, May-July, 1974, p. 4. In 1975, International Women’s Year, the Whitlam Government offered a million dollars in grants to women. The Commission on the Status of Women requested $30,000, which was granted. It was used for conferences, lectures by female theologians such as Rosemary Radford Ruether, and for publishing.. 12 Commission on the Status of Women, p. 11. 13 Commission on the Status of Women, p. 5. 14 Colleen O’Reilly is presently Vicar of St, George’s Church, Malvern, in the Diocese of Melbourne and also a Canon of St. Paul’s Cathedral. 15 See Thomas F. Best, ‘The Community Study: Where Do We Go From Here?’ in The Ecumenical Review, Vol. 40, No. 1, January 1988, p. 48 16 Cited in D. M. Paton (ed.), Breaking Barriers, Nairobi 1975, The Official Report of the Fifth Assembly of the World Council of Churches, Nairobi, 23 November – 10 December 1975, S.P.C.K., London, 1976, p. 20. Dorothy McMahon, then a Methodist laywoman,, was a member of Christian Women Concerned and had served on he Status of Women Commission in Sydney. She was later ordained and served as a parish minister for Pitt Street Uniting Church and as National Director of Mission for the Uniting Church. She was awarded a Jubilee Medal from the Queen for work with women in N.S.W., an Australian Government Peace Award, the Human Rights Medal and an Honorary Doctorate of Letters from Macquarie University for work with minorities and her contribution to the spiritual life of the community. 272

Fifth Assembly that a study on the Community of Women and Men in the Church be carried out, which would be ‗the most extensive engagement of the ecumenical movement on issues of the relation of women and men‘.17 The Victorian State Council of the Australian Council of Churches was also active, organizing a conference on the status of women in Ballarat, an Anglican Diocese bitterly opposed to the ordination of women. The Conference was led by Dr Sabine Willis, a Quaker, who was a lecturer in history at Macquarie University. Willis had also served on the Commission on the Status of Women. In an address to the conference in Ballarat, Willis drew attention to the sexism of the Church Patriarchs, pointing out that many, such as Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, ‗contributed greatly to the present inferior role of women in church and society‘.18 In 1978, the Australian Council of Churches Status of Women Commission set up four task forces to investigate the areas of inclusive language, theological education, sexuality and feminist theology in Australian churches. The findings of the task forces concluded that ‗men hold effective power in almost every area of the church‘s life‘ and ‗the dominant culture of the church is a patriarchal culture‘.19 These findings were relayed to the Vancouver Assembly of the WCC held in 1983. On his return from this Assembly, Australian Anglican priest, the Rev. John Stockdale of Thorndale in Victoria commented as follows:

I have come back from the Sixth Assembly of the WCC convinced that the Anglican Church of Australia is priest ridden and male dominated. If there is any doubt, it is in the composition of the Commission on Ministry and Training appointed by Standing Committee of General Synod ….It comprises nine clergyman and three laity… I am angry that this church appointed one woman…It is totally unjust and tokenism of the worst form.20 After the United Nations Decade for Women closed in 1985, the WCC in 1988 launched an Ecumenical Decade for Churches in Solidarity with Women, following guidelines from the Vancouver Assembly that ‘the concerns and perspectives of women should become integral to the work of all WCC Units and Sub-Units…and the WCC should continue open discussions on the issues of women’s involvement in the total life of the churches’.21 According to Emilio Castro, the editor of The Ecumenical Review of January 1988, ‘the Decade of Churches in Solidarity with Women has as its aim to awaken the whole church to the importance of these issues, and to assure women of the recognition that their struggle for full humanity is not only understood but also shared by men in the life of the church’. Only the Victorian Council of Churches appointed a commission to promote the Women’s Decade. Janet Wood, Executive Officer of the South Australian Council of Churches, noted that the Australian Anglican Church was not pulling its weight in the Decade of Churches in

17 See Thomas F. Best, ‘The Community Study’, p. 48. 18 Church Scene, 19 June 1975. 19 See Miriam Dixon, The Real Matilda , Melbourne, Penguin, 1984, p. 242. 20 Church Scene, 30 September, 1983. 21 See ‘Editorial’ in The Ecumenical Review, Vol. 40, No. 1, January 1988, p.1. 273

Solidarity with Women. She commented that she once assumed that in the Australian ecumenical movement ‘the big players were the Uniting Church and the Anglicans, but in Australia the Anglican Church is selling itself short ecumenically, because it is so busy checking itself, like Melbourne checking Sydney’.22 Certainly, at the 1988 Lambeth Conference, support for the WCC’s Decade of Churches in Solidarity with Women was noticeably lukewarm. Perhaps to dull the edge of debate on the implications of being in solidarity with Anglican churchwomen, the bishops at the Lambeth Conference inaugurated a parallel Anglican Decade of Evangelism. The Decade of Evangelism was promoted strongly in Australian Anglicanism at the senior levels of authority, while the Ecumenical Decade of Churches in Solidarity with Women was played down. For example, at the Brisbane Synod in June 1990, a motion calling on the diocese to support the aims of the Ecumenical Decade of Churches in Solidarity with Women was passed by a very narrow majority.23 Prior to the WCC’s launching of the Ecumenical Decade of Churches in Solidarity with Women, Australian Roman Catholic women had begun to lobby for improved status, spurred on by the liberating forces released by the Second Vatican Council (1962-65). In the period following Vatican II, relationships between the Vatican and the WCC noticeably warmed, although not sufficiently for the Vatican to agree to join the WCC. In 1982, a national movement called ‗Women and the Australian Church‘ (WATAC) was set up by the Major Superiors of Roman Catholic women‘s religious orders in Australia, with the primary task of raising consciousness on Christian feminist issues. The WATAC group, which welcomed women of all denominations into its membership, admitted that it had arrived late on the Australian Christian feminist scene, ‗at least a decade later than our Protestant sisters‘.24 Once on the move to improve their status in the church, Roman Catholic women interacted strongly with women of different denominations and faiths. WATAC and the Anglican Movement for the Ordination of Women (MOW), formed in 1983, liaised closely. The National Vice-President of MOW from 1989-1991 was a Roman Catholic woman, Dr. Marie-Louise Uhr, who later founded the group Ordination of Catholic Women. The MOW branch in Wollongong was led by Suzanne Vernon, also a Roman Catholic. Cooperation with Roman Catholic women was beneficial theologically to Anglican women as Catholic nuns had become so well- versed in the works of American feminist scholars, such as Rosemary Radford Ruether, Elisabeth Schửssler Fiorenza, Mary Daly, and Elizabeth Johnson. Australia also had its own outstanding scholars, such as Dr

22 Janet Wood, ‘It’s Dangerous to Stop on the Freeway’, an address at the National Conference of the Movement for the Ordination of Women, 28-30 August 1990. Tape. 23 The motion was put forward by Gwen Roberts, a convenor of MOW Brisbane. 24 See Sonia Wagner, ‘Women and the Australian Church: Our Changing Role’, Some Patterns and Predictions’, Keynote Address delivered at the National WATAC Conference, Sydney, 22 August 1987, p. 6. 274

Barbara Thiering and Dr Elaine Wainwright, a member of the Sister of Mercy order.25 Wainwright lectured in feminist studies in religion at the Brisbane College of Theology. In 1989 and 1990, she was the keynote speaker at the Brisbane Anglican Clergy Wives‘ Annual Conference, raising their consciousness about the exclusion of women from Scripture. The cooperation and close friendships formed between Roman Catholic women and women of other denominations during the 1980s and 1990s did much to break down the historic barriers created by the political and religious manoeuvres of church leaders over years of Australian history. In 1977, the Uniting Church of Australia (UCA) was formed, with already 36 women in ordained ministry. In March 1990, the National Assembly of UCA declared that ‗the Uniting Church believes ordination without discrimination on grounds of gender is a fundamental implication of the gospel of God‘s love in Christ for all human beings and ‗that in ordaining women and men as ministers of the Word, the Uniting Church in company with others has departed from the almost universal practice of the church throughout history, but believes that it does so in obedience to the gospel‘.26 The Uniting Church in Pitt Street, Sydney, where Rev. Dorothy McMahon was the minister during this period, became a haven for Sydney Anglican women who found their Diocese‘s determined campaign to thwart the ordination of women overly oppressive. To give Anglican women further support, in January 26-29, a National Conference on Women in the Uniting Church passed the following resolution:

We, the delegates of the Church Made Whole Conference of the Uniting Church, express our total, caring support for the women of the Anglican Church of Australia in their struggle for the ordination of women into priesthood. We commit ourselves to our sisters in prayer, and will stand beside them in solidarity for the building up of the whole body of Christ.27

In February 1991, the Seventh Assembly of the WCC was convened in Canberra, providing opportunities for the Decade of Churches in Solidarity with Women to be promoted more strongly on Australian soil. The theme of the Seventh Assembly was ‗Come, Holy Spirit - Renew the Whole Creation‘. For women, a large marquee was erected, referred to as Womanspace. According to Professor Michael Horsburgh, one of six Australian Anglican delegates, the WCC‘s requirements that women, youth and indigenous people be represented in each delegation resulted in ‗an immense diversity of interests‘, so much so ‗that there could be no meaningful and relatively specific statement of opinion which would receive universal endorsement‘.28 Professor Horsburgh concluded that, if future assemblies were to have any credibility, they must return to some form of

25 One of Thiering’s early works on women was Created Second?: Aspects of Women’s Liberation in Australia, Family Life Movement of Australia, Sydney, 1973. Dr. Elaine Wainwright’s work Towards a Feminist Critical Reading of the Gospel According to Matthew (De Gruyter, Berlin/New York, 1992). 26 See Church Scene, 6 April 1990. 27 See Church Scene, 2 February 1990. 28 Cited in SEE, June 1991. 275 elitism and the use of expert advisers. This criticism indicated how much traditional Anglicans were unused to the freedom of expression allowed in WCC Assemblies. One of the female speakers, who both delighted and challenged the Assembly, was South Korean theology professor, Dr Chung Hyun Kyung. Chung claimed that it was time for theology to make way for new forms, including elements from the East. The final words of her address were: ‗Wild wind of the Holy Spirit, blow to us. Let us welcome her, letting ourselves go on her wild rhythm of life. Come, Holy Spirit, renew the whole creation. Amen!‘29 The WCC Assembly held in Canberra as a whole was clearly too radical for some members of the Anglican hierarchy. Two General Synod Commissions, the Missionary and Ecumenical and the Social Responsibilities, both recommended an evaluation of whether the Anglican Church of Australia should reconsider remaining a member of the WCC. Chung was also a keynote speaker at a WCC Conference held in Minneapolis, USA, in November 1993, to mark the half-way point in the Decade of Churches in Solidarity with Women. Of those who attended, there were 405 Presbyterians, 391 Methodists, 313 Lutherans, 234 Roman Catholics, and lesser numbers of other Protestant denominations.30 One of the most hotly debated points during the Conference was whether it was appropriate to use the term ‗Sophia‘ in Christian worship. Some participants argued that the use of Sophia in Proverbs 8 echoed the Logos concept of St. John‘s Gospel. That the subject was raised at all brought down the wrath of her church on Mary Ann Lundy, an executive at the Presbyterian headquarters in Louisville, Kentucky, who had been the chief organiser of the Minneapolis conference.31 Churchwomen by now were increasingly challenging church restrictions, especially Roman Catholics. In July 1996, the first European Women‘s Synod was held in Gmunden, Austria, at which over 4,000 women from 45 countries and from a range of church affiliations attended. The theme of the European‘s Women‘s Synod was ‗Women‘s Power Changing the 21st Century‘. An international group called Women‘s Ordination Worldwide (WOW) was launched during the Synod.32 The Decade of Churches In Solidarity with Women closed at the Eighth Assembly of the WCC, held In Harare, Zimbabwe, in December 1998. In the week prior to the opening, a Decade Festival was convened to both celebrate and analyse the achievements of the Decade. 1200 women and 32 men attended, which confirmed what the women had suspected, that the Decade had been one of Women (rather than Churches) in Solidarity

29 See Church Scene, 22 March, 1991. Archbishop Keith Rayner of Melbourne, then Acting Primate, expressed unease concerning Professor Chung’s portrayal of the Holy Spirit as female. 30 See Tracy Early, ‘The Heirs of Sophia’, in One World, No. 195, May, 1994, pp. 16-18. 31 According to theologian Elisabeth Schửssler Fiorenza, Sophia or Divine Wisdom once had a place in Christian theology, commenting that ‘earliest Christian theology understood Jesus first as Divine Wisdom’s messenger and prophet and later as Sophia-Teacher-Incarnate’. See E. Schửssler Fiorenza, But She Said: Feminist Practices of Biblical Interpretation, Boston, Beacon Press, 1992, p. 14. 32 See Mary-Martha: International Orthodox Women’s Journal, Vol. 5. 276 with Women.33 There was acknowledgement at the Decade Festival that advances for women had been made, especially in regard to women‘s ordination and increased laywomen‘s participation in councils and committees. However, there was still a tendency among churchmen to trivialise women and to discriminate against them. Women present at the Harare Assembly were determined to keep women‘s issues alive. Participants in the Decade Festival drew up a letter for submission to a plenary session of the Assembly. The Letter was entitled ‗From Solidarity to Accountability‘. The focus was on ‗the vision of a human community where the participation of each and everyone is valued, where no one is excluded on the basis of race, sex, age, religion or cultural practice, where diversity is celebrated as God‘s gift to the world‘. The Letter also included a statement calling for the elimination of all violence (sexual, religious, psychological, structural, physical, spiritual and military) and a rejection of the Culture of Violence with its negative effects on the life of women. Female genital mutilation, sex-tourism and trafficking of women and children were denounced.34 The Letter was received well by the Assembly, with a proposal by a German Mennonite delegate that the years 2000-2010 be declared a Decade of Churches Overcoming Violence.35 In conclusion, solidarity between women of differing denominations has been an empowering experience for those many Australian Anglican churchwomen who dared to step out of their denominational boundaries. Churchwomen have learnt from each other how to face the challenges blocking their aim to achieve equity in koinonia. Churchwomen worldwide owe much to the women in the WCC headquarters in Geneva, who have worked tirelessly to keep women‘s issues on the agendas and to assist where possible with funding for their conferences and publications. However, it would be a mistake to assume that church representatives and WCC executives were solidly promoting the aims of the Women‘s Decade. An assessment of the WCC‘s considerable output of literature during the years 1988 to 1998 would indicate that the majority of publications concerned other issues, some clearly aimed at ensuring that Orthodox Patriarchs remained members of the WCC. Even when, during the Women‘s Decade, there was a short-term focus on ‗Ecclesiology and Ethics‘36, there was little discussion on how ethical it was to have ecclesial systems which discriminated against women. This outcome was predicted by Dr Pauline Webb, a religious affairs broadcaster for the BBC and also on the staff of the WCC:

33 See M. Conway, Journeying Together Towards Jubilee: The World Council of Churches meets in its 8th and 50th Anniversary Assembly, Harare, Zimbabwe, 3-4 December, 1998, pp. 46-48. 34 Conway, Journeying Together Towards Jubilee, pp. 46-48. 35 Conway, Journeying Together Towards Jubilee,, p. 50. 36 For example, papers from the conference on ‘Ecclesiology and Ethics’ held in Jerusalem, November, 1994. See The Ecumenical Review, Vol. 47, No. 2, April 1995. 277

In almost all the major faiths of the world, there have been two countervailing tendencies, the one affirming the divinely given value of both men and women alike and the other theologising a prejudice against women.37

The inescapable fact is that church history and praxis have been on the side of men and have been moulded to their images and liking. However, this pattern is slowly changing, with women becoming less prepared to accept subordinate status. The presence of two women bishops in Australian Anglicanism is an indication of some preparedness by male clergy to share power. The challenge for the leaders of today‘s mainstream Christian churches, including Australian Anglicanism, is how to attract younger generations of women (and hence children) back to the church. Attempts to remedy this dilemma may provide the incentive for church leaders to correct the gender inequities remaining in their ecclesial structures today.

37 Pauline Webb, ‘Gender as an Issue’ in The Ecumenical Review, Vol. 40, No.1, January 1988, p. 12. 278

God and Men of the Western Region

Barry G. Shield Independent Scholar

In 2000 a group of academic psychologists from various Australian universities proposed that country men (eg. Farmers, graziers, orchadists) were somewhat psychologically restricted in their outlook towards daily life and living. Of the twenty-two recognized non-clinical psychological styles, only five were found to be present in the great majority of this group of men. That this was a matter of heredity and environment, not to mention occupation and general circumstance of daily life and living was made obvious by further research and the careful classification of individual facets of these five psychological styles. In the pursuit of his investigations of reasons for the existence of entrenched attitudes of a specific nature to Church attendance and worship of the triune God, I have proposed that those five psychological styles all share one common property: none of them are conducive to causing their possessors to seek comfort or spiritual assistance in Church membership. Indeed, all five styles would seem to preclude any serious attention being paid to the numinous, the spiritual or the holy. I further propose that, to overcome the perceived failure of the churches to connect with country men effectively, a radically new style and form of worship, similar to those proposed by the J.Arthur Rank Agricultural Research Centre in the United Kingdom, should be introduced in Australian rural districts. These forms are conducive to the participation of the possessors of our five psychological styles in occupation-oriented worship, worship which to them quite definitely would be then much more needs oriented and relevant to their daily lives.

While visiting my Western Region Parish of Taroom in the Diocese of Brisbane in 1999, the then Bishop of the Region, Right Reverend. Raymond Smith, met my Parish Council -- eleven ladies and one (uncomfortable looking) man; he talked to my (female) Treasurer and my two women wardens. After the celebration of the Eucharist at Holy Trinity, Taroom, at which were present twenty-six women, and three men (those three including him and me), he remarked sadly, 'It’s a women’s Church, isn’t it?' He was referring not to Holy Trinity, nor was he referring to my Parish as a whole, but rather was passing comment upon the situation throughout the geographically huge western region of the Diocese, which stretches from East of Ipswich to the Northern Territory/South Australian border, encompassing the longitudinal extremities from just over the N.S.W. border to the division between our Diocese and the neighbouring Diocese to the north. I passed no comment, because I knew that he was aware that I had made this very phenomenon the subject of my Doctoral Dissertation, research for which began concurrent with my transfer to Taroom Parish. The topic had been suggested to me by the Michael Ramsay Professor of Modern Theology at University of Kent in Canterbury, Canon Professor Robin Gill, himself

279 a formidable theologian and the adviser to the Archbishop of Canterbury on matters relating to contemporary theological matters of importance. So began, in 1995, an academic journey and adventure which ended seven years later. The question which my research and writings have tried to answer is, very simply, 'Why don’t rural men come to church?' This is a generalisation, of course, because, in rural and remote regions of the nation, the province, the Diocese, and the world, some men are faithful attenders and supporters of their church. But I submit that the proportion of male adult worshippers to others is hugely out of kilter with other areas, especially urban areas, of this diocese. I submit also that there are a plethora of reasons for that, which my dissertation of 2001 examined. One, in particular, and this one was researched and written up in the Dissertation, caught my fancy. It is ‘close to home,’ having some of its origins in the University of Queensland, my old campus as far back as 1966. It applies, with laser-beam accuracy, to the men with whom and among whom I have worked for so long. And, finally, it is so blindingly obvious that, for years, it has been generally overlooked by me and by fellow theologians and ecclesiastics. It is, very simply, the phenomenon of personality style, a study of which rightly resides in the realm of Sociology.

Sociology and Gender It is very often the case, as Robin Gill1, Peter Berger2 and Timothy Radcliffe3 have famously discovered, that theology, especially Applied Theology, has much to learn from, and has much in common with, Sociology. Both disciplines can inform each other to a great degree. It was natural, therefore, that attention should be given to Sociological work, even if not remotely concerned with theological matters, in our search for answers to the questions under discussion. Work done by Dr. Jim Davie, Dr. Marilyn Shrapnel and others of the University of Queensland School of Natural and Rural System Management first attracted my attention early in 2000. Their work, presented at the International Workshop of Farm Management Decisions with Climatic Risk, held in Toowoomba, Queensland in April 2000, was entitled The Influence of Personality in Determining Farmer Responsiveness to Risk. In that essay, and in earlier work of theirs, I found a great deal of invaluable information to help me in my quest. Much of their research followed upon the earlier work of Oldham and Morris (1995) and their research into the Personality Style and its effects upon behaviour, achievement and toleration of environmental risk and circumstance. Their research 'indicates landholders’ (capacities)…are dictated by their underlying personality traits and by presence or absence of

1 Robin Gill, Theology and Sociology: A Reader, London, Geoffrey Chapman, 1987. 2 Peter Berger, The Sacred Canopy, New York, Doubleday Books,1967. 3 Timothy Radcliffe, ‗Relativising the Relativisers‘, Sociology and Theology, 1974. 280 other psychiatric morbidity.'4 They made the claim that 'this area of research in rural sociology has not been emphasized.'5 It certainly has not, until 2000, been considered in the area of Applied Theology or ecclesiastics. Their research further indicates that, while there exist some fourteen personality styles in 'non-clinical populations,' they could only discover evidence of 'five personality styles in (this) rural industry group.'6 It should be emphasized that Davie and Shrapnel admit the uniqueness of each individual’s personality, but stress that personality is 'comprised of [sic] a combination of personality styles, of which perhaps two or three dominate.'7 My own understanding of the relationship between personality and religiosity may be summed up by stating the obvious: that an individual’s response to religious experience and spiritual experience – by no means always the same thing – is largely dictated by his or her personality style and need for emotional expression of the impacts of that experience. It should be clear, therefore, that religious and spiritual experience will be manifested according to personality. Indeed, the very acknowledgement of any impact will be governed very largely by personality, and the perception of the value of such impact likewise governed. If, as Davie points out, rural men are generally deficient in no fewer than nine of the fourteen proposed personality styles, I submit that this has profound implications for an understanding of religious practice and relevance among rural men. So vital did I consider it, in fact, that it was felt that a more detailed examination of Shrapnel and Davie’s paper was essential for my own research. The five personality styles present in the sample population of Shrapnel and Davie’s research for their paper were (predominately) the Vigilant Personality style, the Conscientious Personality style, the Solitary style, the Serious Style and the Sensitive style. A graphic illustration of each style and each style’s characteristics is appended to this paper for the readers’ edification. In the Vigilant Style, it was found that 'the underlying primary determinant of their behaviour was their need to preserve their autonomy and independence…'8 Their relationship with other people is marked by caution and reserve, they feel more comfortable with machines than people and they avoid taking emotional risks. While 'they are often good debaters with a definite sense of self, they prefer to make their own decisions and will resist being pressured into something,'9 and are largely self-sufficient. The bearer of the Conscientious Personality Style is, with regard to work, a perfectionist, who works very hard, is generally highly

4 Marilyn Shrapnel and Jim Davie, ‗The Influence of Personality in Determining Farmer Responsiveness to Risk‘, Paper presented to Workshop on Farm Management Decisions with Climatic Risk, Toowoomba, Queensland, University of Queensland, April 2000. 5 Shrapnel and Jim Davie, ‗The Influence of Personality‘ 6 Shrapnel and Jim Davie, ‗The Influence of Personality‘ 7 Shrapnel and Jim Davie, ‗The Influence of Personality‘ 8 Shrapnel and Jim Davie, ‗The Influence of Personality‘ 9 Shrapnel and Jim Davie, ‗The Influence of Personality‘ 281 competent, prudent, persevering, is extremely conscious of order and details, is an accumulator, and strives to do what he sees as ‘the right thing’ whenever he can. He can be highly critical of others who do not exhibit the same standards as he sets himself, and as a result finds difficulty with a wide range of relationships, often seeking impossibly high standards of work, mores and achievements in others. Those possessing the Solitary Personality Style are loners. They have a great need of solitude, but this is not a reaction syndrome or avoidance technique as it can be with other personality styles, whose bearers may seek solitude to avoid distressing situations even though desiring human relationships. The Solitary Style is often unemotional, with a restricted spectrum of feeling; they are doers and watchers rather than feelers. They have a restricted capacity to be spontaneous and to indulge in pleasure-seeking behaviour, with a limited repertoire of emotions and who usually keep their feelings hidden. While they function well in the work domain, they are not team players, and cannot be bothered with others’ personal problems. They have difficulty in relating to and with the general public. The bearers of the Serious Personality Style would describe themselves as realists, while others would probably see them as pessimistic individuals. They tend to regard life as a battle to be won, human existence – theirs at least - as a series of chores to be plodded through, and therefore work to them is a central domain, something to be done with no expectation of a pleasurable result therefrom. They tend to anticipate problems, but have an enormous capacity to carry on, despite all sorts of adversity. Unlike the Solitary, the Sensitive Personality Style men are ones who need the approval of others (and often, their direction) to feel comfortable with themselves. Basically painfully shy, they function best within a small circle of family and friends, and are threatened and insecure outside this domain. That they would find difficulty in dealing with different and unfamiliar people is axiomatic, as is their lack of self- confidence among large numbers of people, especially strangers. Unlike the Vigilant Personality, who doubts strangers, the Sensitive Personality most often doubts himself, suffers from self-consciousness, and dislikes drawing attention to himself. Possessors of the Vigilant, Solitary and Serious Personality styles find real difficulty in relating to strangers, are not socially outgoing, and may experience real difficulty in talking with others. The Sensitive Style man is private, reserved and very cautious in dealing with others, lacks self-confidence and becomes very stressed round unfamiliar, or even, sometimes, familiar people. On the other hand, the Conscientious Style man can endure the presence of others, as long as he can keep at an emotional distance. He is only really content when he and the others he is with are doing jobs of work together. He will talk politics and world events, but cannot often share his feelings with others. If these profiles are accurately drawn – and it is my own experience which confirms that they are – then they have a great bearing upon my quest. I believe that, for Christian Ministry to take

282 place effectively, there must be, between the minister and those to whom he or she ministers, a human bonding which presupposes any of the spiritual bonding necessary for effective conversion or maintenance of faith. I further submit that in my experience a permanent spiritual bonding cannot take place unless there is a oneness of personality between minister and subject. There must be a desire on the part of both to give, and receive, Christian Ministry or any passage of spiritual sustenance is doomed. Without some congruence, or at the very least, a sympathetic resonance of personality, social intercourse is at best banal or shallow. How greatly this applies to Christian Ministry should be clear. To make this point even more exactly, I am pleased to paraphrase, with permission, Shrapnel and Davie’s summaries of the characteristics of the five Personality Styles discussed above. A careful examination of these summaries yield some most interesting conclusions.

Personality Types Let us consider the Sensitive Personality first. This person's lack of self- confidence in dealing even with family and friends, his intense desire for privacy, and his almost total lack of self-esteem and self- assertiveness would seem to cause him to eschew meaningful contract with most ‘outsiders,’ including the clergy of the Church of God. He would see Priest and Church as interlopers, attempting to impose on him a set of mores and ethical standards which he may recognize as worthy but foreign to his self-imposed ideals and standards. This personality style would perceive Christian Ministry, and Christian ministers, as a threat to his fragile peace of mind, and participation in the sometimes emotion-charged rituals of a service of Christian worship may well be for him embarrassing, certainly difficult and stressful. With his lack of self-assertion and self-assurance, talk of sinfulness and human failure to live up to God’s standards of behaviour as promulgated by the Church – its commandments and strictures as he sees them –would frequently be emotionally burdensome in the extreme. The low self-esteem endemic in this Personality Style would be further lowered by calls for self-examination, and we would find this man eager to distance himself from exposure to that which causes such discomfort. The type of Christian Ministry needed to resonate with this Personality Style is necessarily extremely private – one-to-one – and would take a long period of acquaintance and a gradual building-up of confidence and assurance in the man of this order of Personality. The Solitary Personality Style will have no truck with most sorts of organized function. If he is seen at a rodeo, camp-draft, show or race- meeting, it is a rare event, and he is noticeable by his apparent determination to keep very much to himself. Even a visit to the Town for mail or supplies is something to be accomplished as quickly as possible. There is never time for gossiping, social conviviality at the hotel bar, or any other sort of social intercourse. The Priest, Minister or Pastor intent on evangelizing these men is facing a lost cause. His attempted conversations will be seen as an unwarranted intrusion.

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And even in times of what for others would be unbearable stress, when emotions such as grief are normally to the forefront, the Solitary Style man may often present as unfeeling, self-contained and impregnable. For the Solitary Style man, talk of the hereafter, life beyond the grave or the existence of a loving, caring God who draws all men to himself would not only be meaningless but probably unattractive. He will avoid any possibility of meaningful conversation with a clergyperson, whom he would probably regard as alien to his way of life, an emotional person who tries to interfere with his emotionless state. 'Good works,' to him, have meaning only in so far as they apply to what he can achieve in his own work-sphere. A man in possession of the Serious Personality Style has, as suggested above, a deeply pessimistic outlook on life in the here and now. It would take a complete 'about face' in that outlook for him to consider seriously any prospect of a life after death, or the prospect of an eternal paradise in place of the self-made 'vale of tears' in which he presently lives. If work is for him a central domain, then anything divorced from work such as worship, bible study – anything not to do with the central raison d’etre of his existence – is non-productive, and would be regarded as a form of unseemly levity and unworthy of attention. Spiritual or intellectual fulfillment, a sense of well-being unassociated with the daily round, or achievement in a non- occupational sphere would be largely meaningless. He would be unable to consider seriously a realm of existence in which his daily round of labour is not central, and would be inclined to reject with a measure of heat any suggestion that he or his family could benefit from Church membership, allegiance and attendance. Proud of his capacity to 'battle on' despite all odds, he would see external spiritual help and guidance as implausible and unnecessary. Like the Vigilant and Solitary Personality Styles, he would find the presence of a cleric from 'outside' uncomfortable and an unnecessary disturbance. As he is not socially adroit, he would find social interaction to do with church functions and worship burdensome, and to be avoided whenever possible. The man who bears the Conscientious Personality Style is an extremely difficult pastoral proposition, in many cases. He is very critical, usually, of men and women not involved in areas of enterprise which do not involve massive quantities of manual labour. He believes strongly in the dictum that 'you shall earn your bread by the sweat of your brow,' and that those whose means of bread-earning involve the exudation of little or no perspiration are, somehow, shirking. Negative or destructive criticism of the clergy is, therefore, de rigeur, and his emotional security is founded upon belonging to a clique of like-minded men, who can measure up to the standards he sets. He is usually a ‘difficult’ type, who regards the numinous, the spiritual, as being inconsequential in the extreme, if not some evil invention of evil people masquerading as ‘goody-goodies.’ Although, like so many of his peers, he can be thoroughly courteous on the surface, any ‘in depth’ relationship with him ranges from the difficult to the impossible.

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The Conscientious Personality applies himself almost exclusively to his daily work. Any matter extraneous to that daily work is put aside brusquely, and spiritual concerns would be seen as impinging upon the ‘nitty-gritty’ of existence. It is not without some sense of inevitability that we find features of all four personality styles intermingling thus far, and it is with this thought in mind that we turn to examine the last Personality Style, the Vigilant.

Building the Church It would be most difficult to build a church congregation around men and women who saw, as a priority, ‘a need to preserve their autonomy and independence.’ The Christian church is built upon interdependence and the priority of the koinonia, the community of the faithful. To be independent is, for the Christian and non-Christian alike, to be in no need of the fellowship of the like-minded, to be without dependence upon mutuality or support from one’s fellows. To be autonomous is to be without need of guidance, advice, friendship or even fellowship in one’s daily round or one’s life-pattern The self-sufficiency of the Vigilant Personality Style tends to cause them to be extremely difficult to approach in terms of Christian love and concern. Whilst courteous, usually, their courtesy is bounded by their unwillingness to expose themselves to any undermining of their reserve, and their wish to be set apart from ties which are foreign to that desire for autonomy for which this Personality Style is noted. I suggest that none of the five Personality Styles which Shrapnel and Davie have highlighted as being foremost in the psychological makeup of men of the Western Region are likely to belong to a committed and regular churchgoer. If, as they theorize, the majority of men of the Western Region possess one (or elements of more than one) of those five Styles, then Committed membership of a Church is not likely to be high on the agenda of many of them at all. It is, I submit, more than reasonable to put forward the hypothesis that Personality Style and its effects upon Church membership and attendance are serious matters indeed for the Priest, Minister or Pastor to consider. No problem is entirely insurmountable, and I am sure that proper training in the arts of dealing with situations caused by the presence or absence of Personality Styles or other clinical or non- clinical psychological phenomena can be devised. I believe that working knowledge of psychological phenomena would be a useful part of a clergyperson’s training and education. Without doubt, such knowledge would never be wasted or found to be unnecessary. Once I had taken on board the results of Shrapnel and Davie’s research, I became immediately aware of its veracity and accuracy. Having spent five years or more in the region as a young man and adolescent working at various branches of a Bank in the 1950s, I was in the very fortunate position of being able to make comparisons between some of the young men I knew then with same men forty years later. Those comparisons very adequately bore out Shrapnel and Davie’s theories and hypotheses.

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First and foremost, I was able to see for myself that the work ethic which is so much a part of their research was, if anything, not emphasised enough by them. It seems to be a given among the men of the Western Region that work on their properties, hard, enervating work very often done in complete isolation, literally from sun-up until after sundown, is the norm. I remember once having planned a bible- study at a homestead of one of my (female) liturgical assistants, at her request. There were to be another married couple, my wife and her husband, a fairly regular parishioner, at the study. We were to sit down to dinner at 6.00 p.m. before the study. Alex, the husband, arrived home after 7.00 p.m., indescribably stained, sweaty and filthy, not to mention exhausted, from a day’s branding, even though he was aware that the home was expecting visitors that night. His work took priority over social ability and bible study. What recreation there is to be enjoyed most often takes the form of a modification of the daily rounds. Camp-drafting is immensely popular throughout the region, because it is a ‘recreation’ which is replicated in the daily work of the grazier - mustering, ‘cutting-out,’ roping tie-ing, and branding young cattle. Horse-racing is popular also because the horses to be raced can be fed, paddocked and treated by the same veterinary surgeon as other stock, as the working animals on the station. Polo, polo-crosse and similar horse-sports are simply refinements of the riding skills needed in the daily round and are a means of refining the skills needed in that daily round. Rodeos, featuring the riding of bucking cattle and horses, are simply replications of what may happen daily at work. When I was foolish enough to suggest to a group of young married family men that it would be a good idea to take If they wanted a swim, there was always the dam and the creek or river at home! And what a waste of money, said one, who had just spent $30,000 on a horse-float for his team of polo-crosse ponies. Work comes first. The hours spent by the children at school or at school-based excursions are very much a necessary evil. However, I have frequently seen young boys from my Religious education classes out of school to help their fathers with a piece of necessary mustering or other cattle-work. Mothers also participate, riding a stock-horse perhaps, or driving a support truck or utility carrying the day’s 'smokos' and first-aid kits, as well as spare harness for the horses, and branding gear for any ‘cleanskins’ that might be found. No matter how much a mother or children might wish to attend church, take part in a Carol Service, a Christingle service, concert, fellowship tea, or whatever, if there was work to be done on the property or farm, that came first – for all of them. I had a female Liturgical Assistant at one of my daughter-churches near Taroom who was irregular in her attendance. If there was something which needed doing on the property, it was her job to stay at home and assist her husband. The husband did come to church at least once a year, as did many of the men-folk, at Christmas and/or Easter. Strangely enough, the same men were quite happy to dress up for a Masonic Lodge (or other lodge) meeting or ceremony – such as a

286 funeral of a member – but a member of the local Masons, who was a quarterly attender at Church, explained that well. It is a matter of 'clubbishness,' a 'boys’ night out,' a release for them from the daily round, hard as it may be, when they are mingling with their own kind, their comrades-in-arms in the battle of life. In Church, there are women and children to see them out of their usual characters, and this could be embarrassing, dangerous or un-manning. I very quickly became used to the sight of twenty, thirty or more men, dressed in their farm-or station working-dress, standing outside my churches while a funeral of one of their number was taking place. Inside were their wives, and the men-folk of the town, properly dressed for the occasion. The innate courtesy and wish to 'do the right thing' of the men outside the Church (under the trees) brought them to the funeral, and the same traits made it ‘infra dig’ for them to come into the Church not clad for the occasion, as were their wives. Only the sons, brothers and other male kin of the deceased entered the church properly dressed, as it was absolutely necessary for the other men to spend as little time as possible away from work. And yet, it was not as if the men of the western region did not know God. They were well aware of the round of nature, the daily miracles of birth and death, the cycles of the seasons, and so forth. I am sure that many of them, too, were praying, not cursing or blaspheming when they called upon God in moments of stress. As Bishop Smith was fond of saying, 'They know God – it’s His Son that they’re ignorant of!' I experienced frequent occasions when a parishioner (or the husband of a parishioner) would approach me for ministry – a problem with the station or farm, difficulty with his marriage, or some other dear relationship, children, a family disagreement. They were, without fail, grateful for whatever I could give them. In fact, I cannot remember ever meeting an adult man of the region who was not punctilious and charming in his good manners and friendliness. But it certainly did not mean that I could expect them in Church. We should, at this point, diverge from the thrust of this main argument to examine the interpretation of ‘personality’ as evinced in the work of Shrapnel and Davie, and the understanding of the word in general terms. We live in a world governed (often literally) by the cult of personality. The ability of prime ministers (Hawke for example) to shed tears in public earned for them the soubriquet of ‘caring. Personality is not that aspect of human character which may be assumed for public consumption as in a politician, film star or sports hero, but refers, in my definition, to the underlying basis of humanity which governs the human’s every deed and thought. It is not that which is assumed, but that which, like it or not, is inborn and as close to identifying the individual as is a fingerprint.

Conclusion The Theology of Personality is one which has been, largely, overlooked or consigned to he ‘too hard basket’ in studies of religiosity to this point. The general thrust of Christian teaching has been to persuade would-be

287 adherents to subsume their own personalities and cleave to the personality which is seen by theologians and ecclesiastics to be most proper to the true believer – that is, the personality of Jesus Christ Himself. The fact that this personality is difficult, if not impossible, to discover seems to be quite beside the point. In fact, the personality of Jesus Christ depends entirely, it seems, upon the viewpoint of whichever theologian or apologist it is who may be promulgating his or her own path to perfect Christian Discipleship. That such is subject to a particular fashion or contemporaneous theology, or the personality of the leading proponent of a style of belief, should be obvious. One only has to examine, cursorily, the theologies of the various denominations, or to witness the multitudinous ‘dead ends’ that quests for Christian unity have brought about, to be alive to this point. Personality, conversely, plays a very large part in the effectiveness or otherwise of the Christian Minister. Without the gift of an outstanding, outgoing and engaging personality, the deliverer of the most brilliantly correct and theologically challenging sermon will be regarded, mostly, as ‘pedestrian.’ The most punctilious and caring pastoral visitor, without the gift of Christian Personality, will be most often scorned as a failure in pastoralia. Equally Personality plays an important part in the make-up of the Christian believer, as intimated above. That men of the western region, many of them at least, are deficient in nine of the fourteen non-clinical Personality Styles, as Shrapnel and Davie insist has ominous messages indeed for those bringing the Christian Gospel to the region.

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Tables and lists of Characteristics summarising the points made by Shrapnel and Davie.

Characteristics of the dominant personality styles (after Oldham and Morris, 1995):

PERSONALITY STYLE Vigilant Conscientious Solitary Serious Sensitive Autonomy Hard work Solitude Cogitates Needs familiarity Caution Does the Stoicism Keeps a Circumspect right thing straight face Perceptiveness Order and details Sexual Dislikes Likes a composure pretensions structured role Self-defence Prudence Sangfroid Predictable Reserved Fidelity Perseverance Grounded Accountable Very private Alert to Perfectionist Independence Contrite Concerned criticism about others‘ regard Accumulator Insightful

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CHARACTERISTICS OF THE VIGILANT PERSONALITY STYLE: 1. Autonomy (Resilient independence. Keep their own counsel. Require no outside advice or reassurance. Make decisions easily.) 2. Caution (Careful in their dealings with people. Need to size them up first.) 3. Perceptiveness (Good listeners, with an ear for subtlety) 4. Self-defence (Stand up for themselves) 5. Alertness to criticism (Take criticism seriously and are not intimidated by it) 6. Fidelity (Loyalty very important. Don‘t take it for granted. Work hard to earn it.)

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SOLITARY PERSONALITY STYLE: 1. Solitude (feels most comfortable alone, and seeks to achieve this situation often.) 2. Independence (fully self-contained. Does not require guidance or contact with others to get total enjoyment from their lives.) 3. Sangfroid (even-tempered, calm, dispassionate and unsentimental) 4. Stoicism (displays indifference to pain or pleasure to a high degree.) 5. Sexual composure (not driven by sexual needs) 6. Feet on the ground (not swayed by what other people say.)

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE CONSCIENTIOUS STYLE 1. Hard work (seem driven to work long, difficult hours without rest or respite.) 2. The need to do the ‘right thing’ (high moral principles and values.) 3. The need to do things the right way. 4. Perfectionism (no flaws – right down to the finest detail.) 5. Perseverance (stick to their convictions and opinions. Opposition only serves to strengthen their determination.) 6. Order and details (good organisers and list makers.) 7. Prudence (Thrifty and careful in all areas of their lives. Not given to reckless abandon or wild excesses.) 8. Accumulation (Save and collect. Reluctant to discard things.)

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SERIOUS STYLE 1. Straight face (solemn; not given to emotional expressions, tears or even smiles.) 2. No pretensions (very aware, always, of their own capabilities and limitations 3. Accountability (always take responsibility for their own actions and shortcomings.) 4. Cogitation (analysers; always think before they act.) 5. Nobody’s fool (good assessors of other people, they always know when somebody is attempting flattery or 'flannelling.') 6. No surprises (expect and plan for problems.) 7. Contrition (unhappy to learn that they have upset somebody.)

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SENSITIVE STYLE. 1. Familiarity makes them feel comfortable (always prefer the known to the unknown.) 2. Concern about what others think about them. 3. Circumspection (cautious in their dealings with others; don‘t make hasty judgements.) 4. Polite reserve (always courteous and restrained socially; often spoils the development of relationships.) 5. Role (function best when they know what is expected of them.) 6. Privacy (not quick to share their deeper thoughts with anyone; if extremely sensitive, have difficulty establishing a truly intimate relationship with anyone)

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A. W. Averill and the Diocese of Auckland, 1918-1940

Geoff Troughton Victoria University of Wellington1

Alfred Walter Averill was the bishop of the Anglican Diocese of Auckland throughout the interwar years, as well as archbishop from 1925 until 1940. These were critical years in the formation of modern New Zealand, and a time of profound change within both diocese and nation. Notwithstanding the rapid changes and uncertainty of the period, Averill remained a popular bishop who guided the diocese into a period of „church extension‟. This paper assesses developments within the diocese, and the nature and success of these particular endeavours. It argues that Averill‟s church extension programme was partly limited by its dependence on visions of parish and community life that were losing salience in the new interwar social context.

Anglican bishops are a fairly conventional object of scrutiny. They feature prominently in most institutional church history, and have been a common focus for biographical studies. Academic historians are now rightly suspicious of history written in the heroic mode, and are doubtful about narratives that emphasise individual personalities as primary causal agents in processes of historical change. Nevertheless, we remain intensely fascinated by biography. Even Anglican subjects have a certain intrinsic interest to more general historical readers and researchers. And it remains true that individuals matter, and have the capacity to shape and influence events. In the case of early twentieth century Anglican bishops, they could also set a tone and priorities for their dioceses that had profound and enduring implications for the wider church. This paper explores the attitudes and influence of Alfred Walter Averill in the diocese of Auckland during the interwar years. Averill was the bishop of the diocese throughout the period, and the archbishop of New Zealand from 1925. He is therefore a significant figure, though one about whom relatively little has so far been written.2 While his ministry had relevance for the church in New Zealand as a whole, the focus here is more specific. It primarily concerns Averill's style, emphases, and influence, especially as these affected the Pākehā-dominated areas of the diocese. To place these factors in context, Averill's approach is compared with that of Jasper Calder, who was most closely identified with the Auckland City Mission which he founded in 1920 and led until 1946. Both Averill and Calder were well liked, and had a significant public profile. Yet, their

1 Address for correspondence: [email protected] 2 The main published sources of information presently are sources Averill‘s own bland and rather limited autobiography, A. Averill, Fifty Years in New Zealand, Whitcombe and Tombs, Christchurch, 1945, and two standard sources: M. Blain, Blain Biographical Dictionary of Anglican Clergy in the South Pacific. http://anglicanhistory.org/nz/blain_directory/directory.pdf, accessed 12 November 2009, and W. Limbrick, ‗Averill, Alfred Walter 1865 – 1957,‘ Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, updated 22 June 2007. URL: http://www.dnzb.govt.nz/, accessed 12 November 2009. 291 visions for the church and its place and function in society often differed, occasionally placing them at loggerheads. The divergences and commonalities between them, and their popularity, provide an insight into Anglicanism in a leading New Zealand diocese during the interwar years.

The Diocese of Auckland The Auckland diocese was effectively the country's oldest, and enjoyed a certain status because of that. New Zealand Anglicanism was forged in the seedbed of Church Missionary Society activity in Northland, and Auckland city was the seat of Selwyn's original Diocese of New Zealand. This divided into smaller units with the formation of a church constitution in 1857.3 Selwyn was still known as the Bishop of New Zealand after this time, but his actual diocese was confined to the north of the North Island, including small archdeaconries in Taranaki and the Waikato that were formed in 1859. The dioceses of Wellington and Waiapu covered the rest of the island, to the south and east respectively. By 1918, the diocese of Auckland therefore ranged over a large area. It also incorporated quite different and often distinct communities, rural and urban, Māori and Pākehā, and sponsored a range of significant educational and charitable institutions.4 These were mostly in and around the city of Auckland, where there were also a number of large city parishes. Most major towns like Thames, Whangarei, Kaitaia and Te Awamutu, had a significant Anglican presence, but many rural areas remained isolated well into the twentieth century. By that time, the population of the North Island was growing rapidly, and surpassing that of the South. The diocese included many of the fastest growing areas of the country, in the city, suburbs and in the rural hinterland. Auckland city grew particularly quickly and became increasingly dominant during this time. These changes had a major impact on the diocese, and shaped Averill's priorities during the interwar years.

Averill as bishop of Auckland Averill, often known affectionately as Wally, became bishop of Auckland during this period of expansion in 1914 and served in the role till 1940. Born in Staffordshire, he studied at St John's College, Oxford. He was awarded an MA in 1891. After ordination and a short period of ministry in London he travelled to Christchurch in 1894 where he was vicar of St Michael's, a leading and highly respectable city parish, until 1910. The parish's historian considers that he was probably its 'most illustrious' vicar, and that 'Averill brought St Michael's to its apogee.'5 From there he became bishop of Waiapu, though he stayed only for a short time. In early 1914 he became bishop of Auckland, having been overwhelmingly endorsed by

3 On these developments see W. P. Morrell, The Anglican Church in New Zealand: A History, Dunedin, John McIndoe1973, pp. 48-71. 4 Notable examples include King‘s College, and the work of the Order of the Good Shepherd. See B. Hamilton, O Floreat Semper: The History of King‟s College, 1895-1995, Auckland, Board of Governors, King‘s College, 1995; M. McClure, Saving the City: The History of the Order of the Good Shepherd and the Community of the Holy Name in Auckland, 1894-2000 , Auckland David Ling, 2002. 5 M. Peters, Christchurch-St Michael‟s: A Study in Anglicanism in New Zealand, Christchurch, University of Canterbury, 1986, p. 64. 292 churchmen and colleagues for the position a few months earlier. This followed the unexpected departures of bishops Crossley and Neligan who had left in quick succession.6 Already well liked and respected, he quickly became the dominant figure in the diocese. Averill was often referred to as a 'layman's bishop.' The label was one way of saying that he was generally well liked beyond the ranks of the clergy, but carried more particular connotations in his time and context. It signalled that he was genial and hospitable, both personally, and more broadly, as evidenced by the extensive use of his Bishopcourt residence as a site for grand social occasions. At another level, Averill's determinedly non-partisan approach also appealed to church members who loathed disharmony, especially when based on factionalism or theological disputes. Averill was a via media man, which provided stability even if it disappointed some parties. Another expression of this element was Averill's commitment to church union, or 'reunion' as it was then called. Averill participated in Lambeth committees on the subject. He became well known as an advocate for reunion in New Zealand, where he championed the Lambeth Quadrilateral.7 While he supported ecumenical ventures in some areas, he also became engaged in some prickly debates with members of other denominations. This was particularly evident in relations with Catholic bishops on the vexed question of religious instruction in schools. Despite more magnanimous statements, there was also often a sense that for Averill, union would involve denominational realignment with the Church of England. Averill was a forceful personality, albeit in an amicable way, and his ample self-confidence was especially evident in the pulpit. He was often referred to as a powerful and memorable speaker and Martin Sullivan certainly remembered him as such. Sullivan, who later became Dean of St Paul's Cathedral in London, recalled him as a dominant and awe-inspiring figure. As a young man, he was so impressed with the bishop's powerful delivery that he used to imitate Averill's style and vocabulary when he was alone: Sometimes I went further and would practise on my brother. I would put on my mother's nightgown, which had frilly edges to the sleeves, like the ruffs on a Bishop's rochet, and harangue this unfortunate boy. I always attempted to use as many of Averill's words and phrases as I could remember, and then bidding my brother kneel down I would lay my hands on his head.8

Averill had been a successful rower in his youth. He had considerable physical stamina and a commanding presence, which contributed to frequent descriptions of him as a 'muscular Christian,' and 'practical Christian.' Both were common terms of praise for clergy of the day.9 The notion of the

6 See Staffordshire Advertiser, 2 May 1957, Blain, Blain Biographical Dictionary. 7 A. Averill, ‗Reunion,‘ New Zealand Journal of Theology, vol. 1, 1931-1932, pp. 18-20. 8 M. Sullivan, Watch How You Go: An Autobiography, London, Hodder and Stoughton, 1975, p. 36. 9 T. Harper, ‗‗Keeping the Faith‘: Religious Belief in 1920s New Zealand,‘ MA thesis, University of Auckland, 2006, pp. 78-81. 293

'practical Christian' was a highly gendered ideal, which one correspondent captured in a personal introduction to the bishop: 'My wife is an earnest and devout Christian and a regular Communicant. For my part, I claim to be no more than I am, a practical Christian of the Church of England.'10 Since Selwyn's time, colonial bishops in particular had been expected by their flocks to display adaptability and energy, and to limit their pomposity. Averill was largely able to comply. He travelled the diocese extensively, and exhibited a make-do attitude and ability to laugh at oneself that went down particularly well in rural districts. One diocesan tour in 1924 was marked by terrible weather and modest local transport arrangements. While this led to some rather undignified scenes, Averill seemed to cheerfully accept them. Early in the tour a correspondent noted that: 'When one saw the Bishop, clothed in heavy oilskin, seated in an arm- chair placed especially for him on the [horse-drawn] wagon, and then pictured his brother-Bishops in the Mother Land, one could not but give place to mirth.' Averill continued unperturbed, only to experience great difficulty in being delivered from a new but small pair of borrowed gum boots. 'However, he held on firmly to the vestry seat and a regular tug-o'- war began, the result of which was that not only the boots came off, but also his socks!'11 Unfazed by such moments, it seems that Averill was not easily shocked either. One grandson recalls listening with him in later years to the fourth rugby test of a series between the All Blacks and the Springboks in 1956 at Eden Park. At the end of this particularly brutal contest, the New Zealand number eight forward Peter Jones famously declared that he was 'absolutely buggered'. Colin Averill remembers that his grandfather was 'a bit taken aback but giggled merrily… Amused, not shocked'. He felt that this reflected his grandfather's sense of humour, and the empathy of a keen sportsman who understood the meaning of exhaustion.12 This did not mean that Averill did not take himself and his status seriously, or that he was some kind of libertarian. Respectability still mattered, and he was conservative in many areas. He supported the Prohibition movement. His attitudes to Sunday observance were restrictive in some respects, as evidenced by his 'great concern' over the increasing habit of organising excursions, sports and picnics on the Lord's Day. This he described as 'one of the saddest features of modern life.'13 Some Sunday leisure pursuits were acceptable, however, and he may have become more relaxed in later years.14 Averill was particularly vocal on issues relating to sex, marriage and family. In 1917, he lauded the passing of the Social Hygiene Act, countersigning a letter from his wife Mary and the Mothers' Union which

10 H. Atwool to A. W. Averill, 20 March [1927]. S13c A. W. Averill Admin Papers, Box 11, Folder 13, Archdeaconry File, Anglican Diocese of Auckland Archives (ADA Archives). 11 Church Gazette, May 1924, p. 72. 12 Email from C. Averill to G. Troughton, 16 July 2009. 13 Church Gazette, May 1935, p. 2; Yearbook of the Diocese of Auckland, 1939, p. 29. 14 One granddaughter recalls that Averill would often play a card-game called Bezique with his grandchildren on Sunday afternoons in the 1950s. This enlivened otherwise confined Sundays in Waimate where her father, L. E. Cartridge, was the vicar. Interview with Helen Stenhouse, 2 December 2009. 294 urged 'the issue of health certificates to men and women before marriage takes place.' In 1937, the New Zealand government released the findings of its Committee of Inquiry into the Various Aspects of the Problem of Abortion in New Zealand, known as the McMillan inquiry. In the wake of this controversial report, the bishop declared that 'greater chivalry' in men's sex lives would solve the problem.15 In addition, Averill was very much the imperial patriot. He never really resiled from the patriotic view of Britain's role in the Great War as one of defending Christian civilisation, though he did support post-war peace initiatives. His attachment to the Old Land was abiding and at times sentimental, and there was more than a degree of deference to English church life in his personal religiosity.16 Many of these things we know from contemporary reports of Averill's sermons and speeches, which frequently described them as 'outspoken.' Use of that adjective reflected the forcefulness of his opinions, but also their range. An expansive role in public commentary was not entirely unusual among contemporary bishops. Keith Robbins has recently observed of W. R. Inge, a contemporary of Averill's known as the 'Gloomy Dean' of St Paul's cathedral in London, that:

there was scarcely any topic on which Inge was not prepared to offer an opinion. He could express himself equally on what made a successful man and on cosmology… Deep Sea Fisheries was the only topic on which he admitted to have spoken without any knowledge whatsoever, but there may have been others.17

The description fits Averill well. This was the age of the bishop as statesman and moral conscience, and in many ways Averill was the greatest example of this type in New Zealand. He expected the church to have a public voice and saw the bishop as a moral goad to the nation, even if that necessitated vague but emphatic pronouncements on just about everything. Generalities undermined the effectiveness of his statements. But in some ways this fitted perfectly with a widespread feeling that the church should offer a moral voice but not upset people or appear demanding. Averill needed no prophetic edge to meet this public expectation.

Averill and church extension 'Church extension' was arguably Averill's greatest priority in the interwar years, and a defining feature of his episcopate. But what did that term mean to him? Two particular dimensions stand out. On the one hand, church extension meant the growth and expansion of the institutional structures of the diocese. On the other, it involved asserting the church's significance as a social institution, along with Anglican pre-eminence. The second point influenced Averill's proclivity for public pronouncements, and his high

15 Church Gazette, May 1937, p. 4, Church Gazette, June 1937, p. 2. The Auckland Diocesan Churchmen‘s Association met later in November to discuss the issue and offered more broad-ranging though restrictive suggestions. See New Zealand Herald, 10 November 1937, Auckland Star, 10 November 1937. 16 Averill, Fifty Years in New Zealand, pp. 117-39. 17 K. Robbins, England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales: The Christian Church 1900-2000 , Oxford, Oxford University Press, , 2008, p. 164. 295 profile in innumerable public institutions. It also partly explains why the idea of building a cathedral became a preoccupation during this period even though almost nothing actually happened about it. Church-building had practical and symbolic significance. It met immediate needs, whilst providing evidence of the church's vitality and social significance. Refurbishment of old structures like the Melanesian Mission buildings at Kohimarama and St Stephen's chapel in Judges Bay provided markers of the diocese's significant past. Averill vigorously championed such projects, and seemed to become more conscious of this symbolic element as he edged closer to retirement and the nation's centenary in 1940 loomed. New buildings in general were a feature of his episcopate. Between 1916 and 1926, forty-nine new churches were built in the diocese. This was fully half of all those built in the country as a whole during this period, and reflected population growth in the region generally.18 Averill promoted new 'church extension' funds to help purchase lands around the rapidly growing suburbs of Auckland like New Lynn, Epsom, and later in Orakei. In 1926, a new Diocese of Waikato was carved out of the southern portions of the diocese. This eased pressure on the bishop, and was largely designed to aid the growth of the parish network.19 In addition, Averill was a great supporter of Anglican educational institutions, which grew significantly after the depression of the 1930s.20 He was also known as a supporter of social services, though often more in principle than through direct and active involvement. For example, Margaret McClure has shown that Averill was slow to provide tangible support for the Order of the Good Shepherd, though he was grateful for and gratified by their successes.21 The primary mode of extension, however, related to the growth of the parish network. The number of parishes grew, but a model form also emerged. The classic parish church of the interwar years supported a Sunday school, Mothers' Union and Ladies Guild, choir and men's group. These were basic ingredients, though many churches had further groups: Bible Class, scouts, children's choirs and theatre groups, TocH and Churchmen's Association. Averill encouraged the proliferation of these organisations, though some other bishops expressed concerns about the trend. The form strengthened as suburban churches grew, and parish life became busier as organisations proliferated. But this also made parish churches more self-sufficient and arguably introspective.

18 N. Derbyshire, ‗‗The English Church‘ Revisited: Issues of Expansion and Identity in a Settler Church: The Anglican Church in New Zealand, 1891-1945‘, MA thesis, Massey University, 2006, p. 14. 19 See C. Doran, ‗Maintenance and Mission: The History of the Diocese of Waikato‘, MA thesis, University of Waikato, 1998, pp. 7-15, P. and G. Day, Three Score and Fifteen: The Cathedral Church of St Peter, Hamilton, 1915-1990 , Hamilton Lesser Chapter, St Peter‘s Cathedral, 1990, pp. 19-20, H. Norris, Diocese of Waikato, 1926-1976 (Anglican Diocese of Waikato, Hamilton, 1976), pp. 13-15. 20 For example B. Old, St Stephen‟s School: Missionary and Multiracial Origins , Auckland, 1994, pp. 62-64. 21 McClure, Saving the City. 296

Jasper Calder and the Auckland City Mission In background and temperament, Jasper Calder was a somewhat different figure, though he also exercised significant influence during this period. Unlike Averill, Calder was an Aucklander through and through. He was also an eighth-generation clergyman. His father William was a prominent long-time vicar of All Saint's, Ponsonby. It was in that parish's vicarage that Jasper was born in 1885. One might anticipate such a lineage to produce a rather establishment figure, but the younger Calder was actually one of the more colourful and controversial personalities in the diocese. He has been variously described as a 'mercurial extrovert',22 and 'an ebullient character… [who] often offended the political and ecclesiastical Establishment'.23 Ordained as a priest at All Saints' in 1911, Calder served as curate in Whangarei, and in Auckland city at Grey Lynn and St Matthew's before a brief period as Assistant Priest at St Sepulchre's. But his reputation and real influence came with the establishment of the Auckland City Mission. Bishop Averill has often been credited with nurturing this development, but in fact the impetus lay elsewhere. The City Mission formed at remarkable speed after the diocese's standing committee received a proposal from Calder himself on 13 April 1920. A small subcommittee led by Archdeacon George MacMurray considered the matter. By 29 April 1920, just over two weeks later, a special meeting had established basic structures and appointed Calder as Missioner. By April 1920, Bishop Averill had departed to the Lambeth Conference, which left MacMurray leading the diocese. He saw merit in Calder's proposal, but also the solution to a delicate problem. For Calder's early ministry had been marked by success, but also controversy. In February 1920, a mere two months after being appointed Assistant Priest at Holy Sepulchre, he preached a sermon criticising the ineptitude and ineffectiveness of the Anglican Church. It caused offence in many quarters and the vestry called on him to resign. Averill supported the vestry line and ordered Calder to leave, so that by March he was out of a job.24 A new semi-independent mission situation clearly suited someone with Calder's temperament and skills. But it is less widely known that the job was also created to rehabilitate him. That process was evidently expedited by the bishop's absence in England.25 Like most others of this era, the original city mission had a strong evangelistic emphasis. Outreach services were among the first reported activities, and featured throughout its existence.26 But social work had the

22 B. Thompson, Deeds Not Words: The Story of the New Zealand Coastguard, Auckland Bush Press Communications, 1995, p. 45. 23 R. Park, Fence Around the Cuckoo, Auckland , Penguin, 1993, pp. 251-53. 24 G. Ball, ‗‗The Amazing Jasper Calder‘: The Auckland City Mission and Welfare Provision, 1920-1946,‘ MA thesis, University of Auckland, 1997, pp. 51-52. 25 A number of factors were clearly at play, and Calder‘s own accounts of the origins of the mission alluded to these. Calder clearly regarded MacMurray as the ‗real father of the Mission‘ and acknowledged his contribution in various places, including promotional material. See Ball, ‗The Amazing Jasper Calder,‘ pp. 51-52, New Zealand Observer, 13 October 1954, and Come and See, 3rd edition, City Mission, Auckland, 1945. 26 For example, I. J. Shaw, ‗Thomas Chalmers, David Nasmith, and the origins of the city mission movement,‘ Evangelical Quarterly 76.1 (2004), pp. 31-46. 297 greatest profile, and the mission quickly became established as one of the city's leading social agencies. A medical clinic, hospital, free library and doss house were all established during the 1920s. By 1929, there were twelve employees, including an assistant missioner. The mission deaconess Gladys Jeffs, known as Sister Pat, was possibly the best known assistant. She supervised work among women and children, assessing needs and dispensing aid. She also ran a children's summer health camp on Waiheke Island, and eventually became Calder's wife.27 The mission's profile grew during the great depression of the 1930s as demand for its services increased. Between 1931 and 1932, the numbers of patients using the medical clinic, food packages, and the bags of coal the mission distributed all doubled. There were 24,500 interviews at headquarters, and more than 100,000 meals served at the night shelter in just seven months.28 Such rapid expansion ultimately proved unsustainable. But in the long term, Calder's energy and flair for mobilising volunteers enabled the development of a substantial organisation that supported a diverse range of support activities.29

Calder's populism Calder's style was very similar to that of Colin Scrimgeour, or 'Uncle Scrim' as he was better known. The two were the most prominent names in the Auckland social work scene in the 1920s and 1930s, and shared similar methodologies and traits. Scrimgeour, who was attached to the Methodist mission, is rightly known as a foremost proponent of a populist form of 'practical Christianity' during this era in New Zealand's history. This favoured social engagement and works of service over doctrinal clarity, and minimised the role of institutions and denominational traditions. In many ways Calder fitted this populist mould too, though his denominational loyalties were stronger and he had a far more detailed grasp of the Bible. The diocesan archives hold a large number of scripts from Calder's talks and sermons. They are marked by cheery optimism, anecdotes from the mission and contemporary political life, and plenty of plain and direct advice. One entitled 'A Flat Denial' repudiated at least 11 'false dogmas' of modern day life. Yet Calder typically emphasised the simplicities of true religion based on generosity and good deeds: 'One's religion must be of that big & free kind whereby we will get down to men's souls'.30 Like Scrimgeour, Calder was energetically involved in social work. He was also a shameless self publicist. In 1927, Scrimgeour famously spent several days incognito on the streets of Auckland, then told his story to the press.31 Calder repeated the stunt two years later. Scrimgeour was also famous for his theatre services and use of film and radio. Calder actually

27 G. Bean, ‗Church Social Work in the Auckland During the Depression Years, 1930- 1934,‘ MA research essay in history, University of Auckland, 1975, p. 43; G. Ball, ‗The Amazing Jasper Calder‘, pp. 82-85. 28 Church Gazette, June 1932, p. 18. 29 From 1933, a convalescent home became the forerunner of the diocese‘s aged care facilities. See R. Stone, In the Time of Age: Selwyn Village, the First Twenty-five Years (The Selwyn Foundation, Auckland, 1979). 30 See ‗A Flat Denial‘, 7 September 1924, and ‗The Punishment‘, 23 November 1924. S6 Diocesan Organisations, Auckland City Mission, Box 76, Section 6, ADA Archives. 31 New Zealand Herald, 22 August 1927. 298 experimented with all these forms somewhat earlier than Scrimgeour, though he was thwarted in many of his endeavours. From June 1920, mission services began in the Princess Theatre, and these colourful events remained a regular feature for many years. Calder loved music and theatre, and his services reflected these interests. He engaged a voluntary orchestra, and a professional conductor in lieu of a parish organist. Special services like those for 'sporting men' were a feature of the early years of the mission. A lively community developed around these activities, and the mission became something of an alternative parish. In all, Calder conducted 31 services, 26 weddings, 15 funerals and eight baptisms in the first fourteen weeks of the mission's existence.32 Calder was known as a 'sporting parson' on account of his enthusiasm for boxing, yachting and the horses, and he managed to incorporate many of these passions into ministry activities too. One former parishioner from Ellerslie reminisced that Calder used to stop and yarn with jockeys as they grazed their horses along the Ladies Mile, and then persuade them to attend his services. On one occasion 108 thoroughbreds and trainers were counted hitched outside the church there.33 As chaplain to the Akarana Yacht Club, he organised services on Rangitoto Island, combining them with excursions on the Waitemata Harbour and Hauraki Gulf. Experimentation and innovation in church life were central to Calder's ethos. He defended the practice of showing films at mission services as early as 1923, long before Scrimgeour was on the scene, though his use of the medium eventually met with opposition. The bishop argued that use of a theatre and pictures hampered the mission's spiritual work.34 Synod ended up banning use of 'moving pictures' at Anglican services, largely in response to Calder's activities.35 Averill seemed continually wary of allowing Calder too much leeway or independence. This chariness led him to appoint Calder to an additional role as vicar of the inner city parish of the Church of the Epiphany. The move seemed largely designed to bring Calder under greater church discipline.36 Nevertheless, Calder soon had the church filled, and aimed to extend his influence in the diocese by using Epiphany as a radio broadcast church. This was resisted out of concern that his services would be too unconventional.37 Calder was somewhat resentful, therefore, when Scrimegour soon after found fame as a radio host. Scrimgeour's 'radio church', the Church of the Friendly Road, attracted very large and loyal audiences throughout the 1930s.38 Calder eventually got his own show on Sunday evenings, which he called 'Social Justice'. Given their different attitudes, concerns, and positions, it is not altogether surprising that the relationship between Averill and Calder was often tense. In addition to the sacking from St Sepulchre's and later

32 See J. Calder to Standing Committee, 4 September 1920. S13c A.W. Averill Admin Papers, Box 11, Folder 7, Auckland City Mission, ADA Archives. 33 P. Stone, With Memories Filled: A History of the Parish of Ellerslie, 1883-1983, Auckland, Parish of Ellerslie, 1983, p. 31. 34 Yearbook, 1930, p. 22. 35 Ball, ‗The Amazing Jasper Calder,‘ pp. 32-33. 36 Stone, In the Time of Age, p. 22. 37 Cited in Ball, ‗The Amazing Jasper Calder,‘ p. 31. 38 Ball, ‗The Amazing Jasper Calder,‘ pp. 127-129. 299 appointment to Epiphany, the bishop clearly limited Calder's opportunities and prominence in a range of areas. Jasper and his father William had initiated the first Church of England Men's Society branch in Ponsonby in 1904.39 But Averill was mostly lukewarm on the movement and effectively undermined it by establishing his own diocesan Churchmen's Association in 1937.40 On the other hand, Averill was genuinely committed to the City Mission's work, and grew increasingly respectful of Calder's successes. He supported Calder fully at times when he was vulnerable to potentially damaging criticism,41 and offered sympathetic counsel. Calder acknowledged this in a letter in 1939, though little seems to have been done to help alleviate his taxing work conditions: 'I take this opportunity of sending my warmest thanks for your sympathetic hearing. At times I get so depressed with an 80 hour week, that I feel like tossing in my job and then along comes a bit of sympathy and I pull up my socks, so to speak, and carry on.'42

Comparisons In a sense, comparisons between Averill and Calder are slightly unfair. Their differences were in many ways those between priest and prophet. Averill had oversight of the diocese, which naturally raised constraints and concerns that Calder had greater liberty to ignore. Yet, their differing approaches and emphases remain instructive. There were cultural and generational differences between the two. Averill had strong personal, relational and emotional ties to England and was open about their effect on him. Recalling a visit to 'the English woods in their glorious spring garments' in 1930, Averill described that 'Tears trickled down our faces and we were not ashamed. 'He knows not England who only England knows.' England to us is just England, and beyond definition.'43 This emotional commitment carried over into a greater deference to the 'Church of England' than was evident in his younger New Zealand-born colleague. On the other hand, both were socially conservative in many ways, and upheld conventional and what would now be regarded as restrictive views on matters like gender roles.44 But Averill and Calder also clearly enjoyed considerable support. They were both hailed as 'practical Christians'. As such, they were both activists, albeit in different ways. They were equally prone to emphatic pronouncements, especially on issues of moral concern. Both criticised the church for its limitations, though Averill would never have said, as Calder did, that 'The church stinks'.45

39 Ball, ‗The Amazing Jasper Calder,‘ p. 11. 40 Yearbook, 1937, p. 25; Church Gazette, March 1937, p. 2; Church Gazette, April 1937, p. 2; Church Gazette, 18 December 1937, p. 9. 41 Calder was subject to some apparently scurrilous allegations in 1926, though nothing came of them following intervention from the bishop and evidence provided by a number of other parties. 42 J. Calder to A. W. Averill, 1 September 1939. S13c A. W. Averill Admin Papers, Box 11, Folder 7, Auckland City Mission, ADA Archives. 43 Averill, Fifty Years in New Zealand, p. 127. 44 New Zealand Herald, 31 March 1998. 45 Ball, ‗The Amazing Jasper Calder,‘ p. 37. 300

Their conceptions of 'church extension', however, indicated significant differences. Both were keen to expand the institutional reach of the church, and to reassert Anglican significance in the community, but their strategies and assumptions varied. Averill's approach primarily concerned growth in the provision of conventional services to the Anglican community. The aim was to create more and livelier parish churches; to provide a vital home for Anglican worshippers and a hub for social life. Paradoxically, this encouraged a more insular Anglicanism even as it sought to maintain a high sense of the church's social status and significance. By contrast, Calder's concern for church extension focused more on those he referred to as the 'neglected flock.' By this he meant 'ordinary people' whose connections with organised religion were limited. In order to extend the reach of the church, Calder was prepared to experiment widely. He felt that the church should reshape its structures if necessary, and focus more on ethics than on pomp and dogma. It should be accessible. To this end, he was adventurous in form and expression. Thus, Averill's interest in the church's adoption of wireless radio extended only so far as broadcasting services from prominent parishes. Calder instinctively recognised the broader potential of the medium, and its influence in shaping community. By and large, he was denied opportunities to experiment. There was a certain entrepreneurial brashness and individualism about Calder's approach, and this did irk fellow clergy, and others, at times. He could be provocative, opinionated and independent. Yet, these were arguably qualities that reflected the spirit of New Zealand's fast-growing commercial capital. Was it pure coincidence that the most unconventional, inventive, yet wildly popular religious voices of the 1920s and 30s, people like Calder, Scrimgeour and A. H. Dallimore, were all based in Auckland? Ultimately, and perhaps unsurprisingly, Averill's more establishment vision held sway. There were, however, limitations in his approach. Auckland Anglicans never really came to grips with their voluntary situation, so that finances remained static and precarious throughout the interwar years. This seriously limited the diocese's capacity to develop the parishes, let alone fund more expensive projects like a cathedral. On that matter, despite years of agitation and attempts to raise funds, a possible design and the promise of significant bequest money were all that Averill had to show for the project by 1940. It was curious but telling, therefore, that in hindsight Averill regarded the 'first real step toward building a permanent cathedral' as one of the 'chief events' of his period as bishop.46 Averill's vision of the model parish was also problematic. Such parishes could be vital and satisfying centres for members. They also had the potential to be rather insular. But the greatest question was really the form's capacity to thrive in a context where suburban growth and greater mobility and diversity were increasing factors. In the post-World War Two years, it was increasingly difficult to sustain the notion of a parish church at the centre of community life. On the other hand, diversity increasingly blossomed in the diocese's parishes. This tended to upset the rather homogeneous model Averill imagined, and left the way open for parish- based identities to increasingly override diocesan loyalties. This

46 Averill, Fifty Years in New Zealand, p. 151. 301 phenomenon was not unique to Auckland, but it does raise the question as to whether the extent of fragmentation was partly influenced by the growth of the parish model adopted during the interwar years.47 The diocese of Auckland faced considerable challenges during the years after World War One. Post-war population growth, increased mobility associated with new transport technologies and the emergence of new a new leisure society all affected the church's place in society. Interwar Auckland Anglicanism was desperate for a public role and to keep pace with a rapidly changing situation. Yet, under Averill, it seemed ambivalent about successful innovations, and wedded to a conventional vision that was coming under increasing pressure.

47 This is not to deny that diocese structures strengthened too in some respects. Indeed, administration was centralised and made more professional under Archdeacon W. J. Simkin, who ultimately succeeded Averill as bishop. On Simkin, see N. Derbyshire, ‗Fear Not Nor Be Dismayed: The Anglican Diocese of Auckland during the Episcopate of William John Simkin, 1940-1960,‘ BA Hons, Massey University, 2005. 302

God's Kindergarten?: Women priests and bishops in the Anglican Church of Australia

David Wetherell Deakin University1

This paper examines the ordination of women priests and bishops in Australia in the light of claims that the Anglican priesthood is the equivalent of priesthoods in the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Communions. In the first section, arguments supporting women priests are studied within the framework of conflicting conceptions of priesthood during the Reformation. The papal bull Apostolicae Curae condemning Anglican orders in 1896 is assessed using recently published critiques of Leo XIII‟s commission of enquiry. The second section studies the function of priestly ritual from the vantage point of secular anthropology. The third section surveys some features of Australian Anglicanism since 1992, when the first women priests were ordained. The paper concludes that the period of Reception, allowing dissidents to remain within the Church, may be drawing towards an end.

Women have been consecrated bishops in two dioceses of the Anglican Church of Australia following the ordination of women priests 17 years ago, and the struggle for the inclusion of women at all three levels of the Australian clergy has at last been achieved. The decision comes at a time when Anglicans worldwide are being compelled to face certain realities about their church which up to now they have tended to ignore or to interpret in ways which do not accord with Anglicanism's history. The reality of women priests and bishops has provoked a crisis of identity in the Church. The Church has frequently claimed that it is a 'bridge church' between Catholicism and Protestantism. But is this still true? Until recently the comprehensiveness of the Anglican Church has been urged on the grounds of alleged continuity with Catholic belief and at the same time with those elements which were absorbed from the 16th century Reformation. It is one of the most pluralistic churches in the world, certainly the most pluralistic of the historic churches. One observation needs to be made immediately. Anglican theology at the time of the separation from Rome during the Reformation was not 'home grown'. It did not spring from a coherent theological system designed to create Catholicism without the Pope. Rather, in the sacrament of the Eucharist and the ordination of its clergy (to which the women are claimed as successors), it drew in the first instance on the Calvinist and Lutheran thinking imported from the Continent which was uppermost in the theology of Archbishop , author of the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) (1549) and the more overtly Protestant Ordinal (Ordination Service) of 1550 and revised BCP of 1552.

1 Acknowledgment is made of the Right Reverends Peter Brain (Conservative Evangelical) and (Anglo Catholic) for contributions to the final draft of this paper.

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The Anglo Catholic wing of the Anglican Church, however, has always claimed that the Reformation is only one of several defining moments for the Church of England. Its Celtic roots predate the landing of St Augustine at Canterbury in AD 597. The Anglo Catholic claim is that the Anglican male priestly order is the equivalent of the priesthood in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches. To preserve this claim, as well as to stem a flood of secessions from the church, it was understood that the introduction of women priests in Britain, Australia and elsewhere would begin a period of 'reception' - a period of indeterminate length. Until the period of 'reception' ended, women's ordination would be considered, in theory at least, to be provisional. Those Anglicans who disagreed with the decision were thus given a 'breathing space': the introduction of women priests would await final approval, not only within the Anglican Communion, but by the rest of the universal church possessing a threefold order of bishops, priests and deacons, that is, by the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches. In short, when the Anglican Church allowed the ordination of women as priests, it claimed to be offering this innovation for reception by the universal church. As a result, the church accepted that, during this period, proper provision would have to be made for 'dissidents' within its own ranks. Had there been no provision for a period of reception, Anglicanism would have been claiming the right to alter the apostolic ministry on its own authority. This would be an indication that what is at stake is the ministry of the Anglican Church, not the ministry of the universal church. If no provision is made for dissidents to have alternative episcopal ministry now that women bishops have been introduced, that conclusion stands. In other words, if Anglicans think the period of reception is over, in unilaterally ordaining women to the Anglican priesthood and episcopate without reference to the consensus of the universal church, their communion will have effectively turned its back on progress made since the 1960s towards the Roman Catholic and Orthodox recognition of Anglican orders and the ecclesial rapprochement of Anglican and Catholic churches. This would represent a turning point for Anglicanism in Australia as well as Britain. For, outside the Calvinist tradition dominant in Sydney, Anglican leaders in Australia and elsewhere have emphatically asserted that the Church of England is Catholic, one of three great ancient churches – Rome: the Eastern Orthodox: the Church of England. In Australia the 'Catholic' tradition is strongly represented in the dioceses of Ballarat and The Murray. It has been predominant in the church in South Australia, Western Australia, and Queensland. Growing up in Queensland in the 1950s (and later in ), I well understood the claim made by Anglo Catholics, that Anglican priests were the English equivalents of Roman Catholic and Orthodox clergy. They were not simply 'ministers' of a Protestant denomination. In conversations it was thought good-mannered to use the term Roman Catholic rather than simply 'Catholic'. The statement by Anglican Bishop J.O.Feetham was often quoted: 'I am the Catholic bishop of North Queensland… I have a colleague who is the Roman Catholic

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Bishop of Townsville. The work of his Communion is of great importance, but it is only a part of the work of the Catholic Church'.2 The push to ordain women priests has dealt a coup de grace to such conventions. Until the 1960s, the Anglo Catholic movement was a coherent and well organized force within Australian Anglicanism. In 1947, nine of the 24 bishops in Australia were former Anglo Catholic 'bush brothers'. When an Anglican Franciscan friar conducted a preaching tour of Australia in 1957, he conducted retreats for some 40% of the nation's Anglican clergy – a rough indicator of the outer extent of Anglo Catholic influence at that time.3

Pope Leo XIII and Anglican Orders What did the Anglo Catholics represent? Beginning with a protest in 1833 against the British parliament's control of the established Church of England and the Church if Ireland, the original Anglo Catholics (known as 'Tractarians') demanded a stake in the appointment of its bishops and the ordering of its doctrine. Under such leaders as J.H. Newman and E.B.Pusey, the Oxford reformers moved on to revive teachings long forgotten in the Church. They urged a return to the discipline of frequent communion and hard work as well as fasting and visiting the sick. The reformers (by the 1880s known as Anglo Catholics) also gradually became committed to reintroducing candles, incense and vestments, mitres and purple cassocks for bishops and so on, through which visions of a hierarchical Christianity true to ancient tradition could be made visible to worshippers. (The original Tractarians, however, were no friends of elaborate liturgy, and their Anglo Catholic successors are not primarily concerned with such matters as vestments, candles and incense). Anglican clergy in this tradition emphasized the priestly nature of their role. In Australia, from the early 19th to the mid 20th century, four major bodies with their origins in the British Isles – Anglican, Roman Catholic, Presbyterian and Methodist – claimed the nominal allegiance of over 80 per cent of the population. After Governor Bourke's Church Act of 1836 the Church of England had no special privileges. Anglicans had to adjust to being the largest of several denominations, all of them with equal status in their relationship with the government. In this religiously mixed society what did the Church stand for?4 The teaching of the Anglo Catholics seemed to provide a satisfying answer. The Church of England was the ancient Catholic church of the English nation. Anglican bishops were bishops of the Church of the English people who had colonized Australia, a Church which had maintained the Catholic and Apostolic faith in its integrity without the unscriptural additions of the Church of Rome and the Papacy. Anglicans influenced by this school were devoted to the idea of the Church of England as a branch of the Catholic Church. Put simply, they

2 James Norman, John Oliver North Queensland, p.97. 3 David Hilliard, ‗Anglo Catholicism in Australia, c 1860-1960. Paper delivered at a conference on ‗The Oxford Movement, Europe and the Wider World‘, Pusey House, Oxford, 15-18 September 2008, p.14. 4 Hilliard, ‗Anglo Catholicism‘, p.3

305 thought of the Catholic Church as the perpetuation or extension of Christ's incarnation. Endowed with Christ's priesthood, the hierarchical Church through her ministers (bishops, priests and deacons) has the function of mediating to all men the fruits of Christ's all-sufficient work of salvation. Fallen man is raised up to cooperate in this priestly mission of dispensing salvation to all succeeding generations till the end of time. For 150 years Anglo Catholic apologists have influenced the Australian Church outside the Low-to-Broad Church traditions in Melbourne and Sydney's Calvinist school. Their claim is that the English reformers had maintained the Catholic priesthood and episcopacy, avoiding the extreme course of the Lutherans and Calvinists of Europe who had abolished the ordained priesthood altogether (the exception is the Lutheran Church of Sweden which kept its bishops). They believed that the reformers in the 16th century were concerned only with the alleged perversions of the late medieval church in England and corruptions in its theology. Anglo Catholic hopefulness about Rome's acceptance of Church of England order were dashed in 1896 by Pope Leo XIII, who declared Anglican orders 'absolutely null and utterly void'. But Anglo Catholics gained a measure of limited confidence from the Patriarch of Constantinople's encyclical to the Eastern Orthodox churches in 1922 provisionally recognizing the validity of Anglican orders. The massive late 20th century Roman Catholic scholarship of such writers as Francis Clark has come to the same conclusion as Leo XIII and for the same reasons – that the Anglican ordination service is defective in form (i.e. its wording) and intention (i.e. its purpose), both of which, implied Leo XIII, create Protestant pastors rather than Catholic priests. For, said the Pope, the sacrament of ordination must have 'the intention of doing what the Church does' which the Church of England's Ordinal of 1550 did not do. Leo XIII's bull said the established form of the ordination service had been 'purposely mutilated to exclude the sacrificing priesthood'. To document these claims, Francis Clark's researches demonstrated that Cranmer's Calvinist and Lutheran advisers had 'remained unwavering in their common detestation of the priestly-sacrificial interpretation' and that Cranmer had dismantled the Catholic doctrine of the Mass. All the elements denoting the sacrificing priesthood – the wording of the ordination service, with the ceremonial of altar and vestments– were swept away.5 In other words, on this view Anglican clergy, though they may be in sympathy with Catholic ideals of priesthood, derive their orders as presbyters or ministers within a church which is essentially Protestant, not Catholic. In disagreement with Clark, the Anglican Benedictine monk Dom Gregory Dix, whose book The Question of Anglican Orders has been standard reading among Anglican theological students

5 Francis Clark, Eucharistic Sacrifice and the Reformation, pp.131-2, 198-9. 398- 401.

306 since World War II, insisted that, in the form of its service of ordination, the parent Church of England continuously claimed from the Reformation that by its rites, it 'intends to do and does essentially what the Catholic Church has meant from the Apostles' time'; that the word 'priest' is stated six times during the 1552 service of Ordination; and that the intention of the rite of priestly ordination is stated 'with the most unambiguous clarity'. On 'the very first occasion possible [in 1562]' claimed Dix, the Church 'officially and formally repudiated Cranmer's personal teaching about the sacraments and has continued officially to repudiate it ever since'.6 John Jay Hughes, a former Anglican priest who was ordained to the Roman Catholic priesthood in the 1960s, corroborated Dix's conclusions. As Hughes writes, if Anglican orders are defective in form and intention, then the Roman Ordinal is also defective, since the word 'priest' did not appear until revisions appeared during the 20 years since 1947. 'In the whole Roman Ordinal' says Hughes, 'there is no clear mention of the priesthood (sacerdotium)'. Until the wording of the Roman service was altered in 1947, Catholic ordination services suffered from the same 'defect of form' by which Leo XIII had maligned Anglican orders. Indeed, wrote Hughes, 'to anyone who has experienced the impressive simplicity, strongly biblical character, and immediately intelligible and clear structure of the Anglican Ordinal, the Roman rites of ordination prior to their revision in 1968 were a confusing jungle growth of diverse elements'. Hughes cites a prominent contemporary Catholic critic of Apostolicae Curae that 'such a condemnation would prove to be another Galileo case'.7(1) Anglican clergy in priest's orders, Hughes argued in 1970, were Catholic priests who deserved 'a positive verdict' by Roman theologians, and ultimately, recognition by the Holy See. Even more recently, the Anglican scholar John Hunwicke has amplified the case for the continuity of the Anglican priesthood with the pre-Reformation church. Hunwicke says that the English Reformation was not a theologically coherent series of events in the way that the Reformation may have been in other countries. 'Anglicanism' is not something that can be distilled exclusively from 16th century theologians; Anglicans have no 'normative' theologian. There is, according to Hunwicke, nobody who occupies for Anglicans the place that Luther or Calvin respectively occupies for Lutherans or Calvinists. Citing Cranmer has never resolved any matter of doctrine. In English law the present Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, is the successor not only of Cranmer but also of St Augustine, the first Archbishop of Canterbury. Archbishop Geoffrey Fisher of Canterbury famously said in the 1950s that the Anglican Church 'has no doctrines of its own: its doctrines are those of the Catholic Church'. The Anglo Catholic view is that the different stages of the 16th century Reformation with its

6 Gregory Dix, The Question of Anglican Orders Letters to a Layman, p.34. 7 John Jay Hughes, Stewards of the Lord, pp. 23-4, p.239.

307 different conflicting power-groups between the reigns of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I do not provide a coherent theological structure at variance with Catholic doctrine.8 Until the mid 1970s, the cumulative evidence produced by such Anglo Catholic and Roman Catholic scholars pointed to the conclusion that Clark, in the shadow of Leo XIII, was prejudiced by the narrowness of his focus on Cranmer. At that time, then, some scholarly voices within the Roman Catholic Church were favouring a Catholic re-opening of the question of Anglican orders. Following the visits of Archbishops Geoffrey Fisher and to Rome, this re-evaluating process was filtering into the Catholic Church at large. In Britain, Cardinal John Heenan said that the matter of Anglican Orders was now 'open to free discussion'. In Ballarat, Victoria, Father (later Cardinal) George Pell was a member of a joint Anglican-Roman Catholic Commission. Pell was asked by the Ballarat Commission to raise the question of the papal bull of 1896 with the appropriate Vatican authorities.9 The response to Pell by the Vatican was that the matter was 'under consideration' and that a more comprehensive response could be expected in due course. The door was slightly ajar. It is significant that a scholarly Catholic colloquium in Britain during the 1970s was hopefully entitled, 'Anglican Orders: the Growing Consensus'.10 Then came the purported ordination of women to the Anglican priesthood in the United States, New Zealand, Australia, Britain and elsewhere. In Anglo Catholic, Roman Catholic and Orthodox eyes, this showed Anglicans veering back towards Broad Church Protestantism. A blow has thus been dealt, not only to Anglo Catholics within Anglicanism, but also to the 'growing consensus' among influential Roman Catholic scholars. In the event, the foremost champions of Anglican orders within the Roman Church conceded that, even had the Vatican agreed with them that the investigations leading to Apostolicae Curae were bungled, this would not in itself prove that the verdict of Apostolicae Curae was wrong. It is possible to reach a correct decision for bad reasons, and it is conceivable that this is what happened in 1896.11 Now, the ordination of women as purported 'priests' (and not 'pastors' provides powerful proof that 1896 may have been right after all. For it demonstrates the Anglican Church acting unilaterally, as Leo XIII put it, by doing otherwise than 'what the church does'. The decisions of the past thirty years have given fresh vigour to the objection that Anglican orders are simply Protestant.

8 John Hunwicke, in Forward in faith (Fif), http://liturgical notes.blogspot.com 9 Ramsay Williams, pers.com. 13 July 2009. 10 Hughes, ‗Anglican Orders: The Growing Consensus with a Comment by John Coventry S.J.‘ in New Blackfriars, London, 1971, pp.274-79. 11 Hughes, Stewards, p.1

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Women: Pastors or Priests? It is not without irony that, at a time when some Roman Catholic scholars were inclined to find fault with the researches of the conservative Jesuit Clark as essentially polemical, champions of women's ordination within the liberal Anglican camp were tending to vindicate Clark's position. For what most advocates of women's 'priesthood' appeared to want is only the ordination of women to Protestant pastoral ministry, flavoured by the use of the Catholic term 'priest' as a title and no more. Unlike the Catholic Church with its highly developed doctrine of priesthood, Anglicans are prone through the protean multiplicity of meanings within their Communion to glide over any precise meaning of priesthood beyond such phrases as 'the ministry of Word and Sacrament'- a description which fits equally the ministry of Baptist and Uniting Churches which are not asserted to be priesthoods. In Luther and Calvin's teaching the minister is a mere 'delegate', a representative or extension, of the congregation's 'priesthood of all believers'. A good example of the 'representative' argument is the late Bishop Owen Dowling's proposition to the Anglican synod of Canberra-Goulburn in 1990: 'When I celebrate the Eucharist I do so as your representative. The priesthood is committed to me, but it is as your representative that I perform my ministry'.12 Dowling's apologia for women 'priests' is exemplary Lutheran teaching. It falls short of the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox understanding of the ordained ministerial priesthood. The documents of the Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission, (ARCIC) appointed by the highest authorities in both churches, are quite clear in their implied disagreement with Dowling: the ministerial priesthood is 'not an extension of the common Christian priesthood'.13 Anglican teaching about the ordained ministerial priesthood has attempted to bridge the gap between Catholic and Protestant, to 'have it both ways'. The result is a reductionist understanding of 'the priesthood', a tendency exposed by, and greatly accelerated by, the arguments for the inclusion of women as 'priests'. In an unsophisticated understanding of Holy Orders, a British Catholic commentator has called the Church of England 'God's kindergarten'.14 There are actually two levels, or expressions, of priesthood in early Christianity. The first of these is the communal priesthood of all believers, a concept which flowed from the Old Testament into the New, the priesthood referred to by St Peter as 'the holy body of priests' or as 'a holy nation' or 'a chosen race' (I Peter 2: 5,9). The other level is the 'ministerial priesthood' of ordained men, which evolved a century later in association with the evolution of the Eucharist or Mass. A principal difference between Catholic and Protestant notions is that as 'delegates' or 'representatives' of the

12 Diocese of Canberra-Goulburn, Presidential Address by The Right Reverend O.D.Dowling Eighth Bishop of Canberra & Goulburn, Canberra 1990, p.20 13 Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission (hereinafter ARCIC) The Final Report Windsor September 1981, London, 1982, p.36. 14 The Month, London, December 1992, p.458.

309 congregation, Protestant ministers are simply a focus of the general communal priesthood. According to J.M.R. Tillard of the joint Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission, to regard the ministerial priesthood as simply another form of the priesthood of the whole congregation arises from an incorrect identification of completely different frames of reference. It is necessary to 'be attentive' says Tillard, to the use of the same vocabulary of 'priests' in two different settings, that of ritual (the ministerial priesthood) and that of the daily lives of Christians (the so- called 'royal priesthood'). The two are not identical.15 The paradox is that advocates of women's ordination in Australia have clung to Catholic terminology in speaking of women being 'ordained to the priesthood' but at the same time have insisted only on the purely 'representative of the congregation' function of the ordained Protestant minister. Their call appears to be actually for presbyters or pastors, not ministerial priests. But, by calling for an 'inclusive' ministry, the advocates have experienced little difficulty in winning votes in synods from lay people and clergy swayed overwhelmingly by social justice arguments, and unconcerned with the meaning of the ordained priesthood beyond its function as a focus of the Protestant 'priesthood of all believers'. One is driven to the conclusion that these arguments, in the footsteps of the reformers Luther and Calvin, are voices for the reduction of 'the priesthood' to a mere form of words. The best known Anglican spokespeople, articulate and precise about the injustice of women's exclusion, have been reticent to the point of evasion when questions of the meaning of priesthood are raised. Dr Muriel Porter, in her book of 180 pages advocating women priests, is vague about the meaning of the ministerial priesthood.16 Nowhere in her publications is there any discussion of the meaning of priesthood. In one reference, she dismisses the priesthood briskly in a single sentence, that at the Reformation the word 'priest' was retained. Dr Keith Rayner, Archbishop of Melbourne (1990-99) and Primate of the Anglican Church of Australia, delivered a number of eloquent synod addresses advocating women's ordination, but gave manifestly inadequate reasons for supporting women priests. Indeed, to many listeners he did not appear to be giving reasons for women's priestly ordination at all, but merely arguing for the raising of women's status in the church and in society at large.17 But it was Archbishop Rayner's Broad Church predecessor, Dr , who was notoriously 'caught out' at a public seminar at La Trobe University in Victoria. At a time when the then-unresolved women's ordination issue was raging in the Anglican church, Dr Penman boldly identified the church's major problem as simple: its failure to ordain women priests. Asked point-blank from the audience the question, 'What do you see

15Jean M.R.Tillard, ‗What Priesthood has the Ministry‘, a translation from the French of a Paper commissioned by the Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission, pp.14-15. See also ARCIC, Final Report, p. 36. 16 Muriel Porter, Women in the Church Melbourne, 1989. 17 Diocese of Melbourne, The Charge of the Archbishop of Melbourne, The Most Reverend Keith Rayner, 14 March 1992; Church Scene, Melbourne, 14,20 March 1992; 8 March 1985. 310 as distinctive in the ordained ministerial priesthood?' Penman badly fudged his answer and failed to give a clear response. One Roman Catholic bishop present at the La Trobe occasion was heard to say loudly on leaving the hall, 'He didn't answer the question'. When I visited Dr Penman a short time later at Bishopscourt, Melbourne, he told me of his discomfiture at the La Trobe seminar. What is distinctive the ordained ministerial priesthood? Within modern Anglican circles, making the ministerial priesthood available to women is urged for some of the reasons which were given by the Protestant reformers for discontinuing the priesthood altogether. In the English language the word 'priest' is used to translate two distinct Greek words, hiereus, which belongs to a cultic order, and presbyteros, which designates an elder in the community. The full emergence of the threefold ministry of bishop, priest and deacon was a process undocumented and incomplete until the second century, that is, 100 years after Christ. In spite of the fact that in the New Testament, ministers were not called 'priests' (hieresis in Greek or sacerdos in Latin), by the second century the early church came to see the priestly role as reflected in the presbyters and used a priestly vocabulary in describing them.18 Over many years, partly under the leadership of the dioceses of Melbourne and Perth, the Anglican ministry in much of Australia has come to be regarded in overwhelmingly pastor-elder (ie presbyteros) and not in priestly (ie hiereus) terms.19 It follows from such a pastoral understanding of ministry that the exclusion of women is regarded as highly objectionable. A glance at the newspaper articles and other writings of pro-ordination writers will demonstrate that a deeply- held ideological outlook has given rise to a high level of indignation. Many listeners to radio and television interviews with New Zealand and Australian women, however, have come to the conclusion that the vocation to which the women say they feel called is in fact pastoral and not sacerdotal, that is, not concerned with ritual. But in all world religions possessing an order of priesthood, a concern with ritual has always been regarded as central.

Priests and Ritual The question of ritual bears witness to an anthropological objection to women priests deeper and broader than ancient Christianity itself. In Middle Eastern religions possessing an order of priesthood, the fulfilling of ritual functions is the major defining priestly function. Priests in ancient Egypt conducted a form of public ritual combat symbolically to re-enact the conflict between the Upper and Lower Kingdoms before the emergence of a united Egypt.20 In Babylon the high priest Marduk re-enacted the victory of the fertility god of spring over the dark powers of winter. In the Christian service of the Mass or Eucharist, the ritual is even more precise, for in his

18 ARCIC, Final Report, p.35. 19 In Western Australia, women at Perth synods evinced an interest in sacerdotal functions in calling for the right to pronounce absolution, to bless, and to consecrate, because it was essential for the cause of equality with men for women to be ordained to fulfil these functions. Peter Brain, pers.com 15 November 2008. 20 S.H.Hooke (ed), Myth and Ritual, London 1933, pp.8, 15, 21, 24, 29, 128. 311 primary function as celebrant of the Holy Communion the priest ritually recapitulates, or re-enacts, the Last Supper. Ritual is closely linked to a recognition of visible symbols as the binding elements of any society, and in religious and social structures the significance of ritual can hardly be over-emphasised. Any disciple of Emile Durkheim or Bronislaw Malinowski studying the culture of Australian Aboriginals or Pacific Islanders would well understand that rituals, artifacts and ceremonial feasting are the vehicles of authentic communal religious experience. (Ritual must be distinguished from 'ritualism', a word emerging from late nineteenth century Anglican controversies over liturgical practice). Most social scientists would probably agree with the English anthropologist Camilla Wedgwood, a student and research assistant of Malinowski, in characterizing two broad features of ritual in all religions, no matter how 'primitive' the religious expression may be (a) The worshippers recognize that it is ritual, that is, symbolic acts, and (b) The worshippers believe it re- enacts in part at least a genuine historical event.21 The service of the Holy Communion involves seven ritual actions directly reproducing the historical acts of Jesus at the Last Supper. The first four may be summarized in the words, 'In the night He was betrayed, He took bread; He broke it; He blessed it; He gave it', followed by three ritual actions in consecrating the . These actions have been interpreted by Christians as relating to the central events of salvation – passion, death and resurrection. And in each of these events the central character is a male. Thus, as an image or icon of what he represents, the male priest recapitulates Christ's role at the Last Supper. By a secular analogy with the male priesthood, the male actor performs the male role in any Shakespearean drama. The same could be said of Peter Weir's film Gallipoli. For a woman to re-enact the role of an Anzac in such a film would be to parody what actually happened on 25th April 1915. Australians have seen re-enactments (that is, ritualized representations) of the landing at Anzac Cove of Australian and New Zealand soldiers, their being machine- gunned from the hills and dying on the beaches. The power of the representations may be gauged by the reactions of audiences at the film. It would be much less powerful if Weir had been persuaded by the same arguments that were used to sway Anglican synods in the 1980s and 1990s, that it is a matter of equity for a woman to be among the central characters in a revised version of Gallipoli; it was a question of social justice; half the audiences seeing the film are women; and so on. After all, Archbishop Keith Rayner has said it is the humanness of Christ that matters, not his maleness. Might not Dr Rayner's synod statement be paraphrased thus: 'It is the humanness of the original Anzacs that matters, not their maleness'. Of course, the Anzacs could be represented by women as well as men by the argument that it enlarges the humanity of the original soldiers at Gallipoli; but it would then point only to an abstract Australian heroism; and it cannot be denied that such a version would have lost some of its authenticity. Modern experimental theatre allows the exchanging of roles in some cases, with men acting women's roles and vice versa, and audiences do not

21 C.H.Wedgwood, Notes on Ritual, NLA, Canberra, MS 483.

312 necessarily object to it, or find that it interferes with their ability to appreciate a drama. But, for traditional theatre, actors portraying men and actresses portraying women is still the general norm, as it is for the screen. Would viewers of the Australian television mini dramas Home and Away, or Matlock Police, or Neighbours appreciate a gender reversal for their actors? This suggests that many people regard the fulfillment of certain minimal standards necessary if a performance is to have credibility, one of which is the taking of male roles by male persons, and female roles by female persons. As Lord Hailsham, a leading opponent of women priests in Britain observed, few people watching a Nativity play would appreciate a truck driver taking the role of Mary the Mother of Jesus.22 By analogy, for the Eucharist or Holy Communion to relate fully to the Last Supper, certain minimal standards have to be fulfilled. The elements used must be bread and wine to resemble the elements of the Last Supper. In the past, the Roman Catholic and Orthodox Churches have not felt that serving biscuits, or coffee and tea, are adequate substitutes for bread and wine. It may be argued that the maleness of the person celebrating the Eucharist belongs in the same category.

The Anglican Church of Australia Since 1992 In the early 1990s it was claimed by advocates of women's ordination that the introduction of women priests would help lead to a renaissance, or rebirth, of the whole church. The Anglican 'Decade of Evangelism' would help the church arrest the general post-1960s decline in western Christianity, by contrast with the growth of churches in Africa and Latin America. It was necessary, then, to overcome doubts about women priests and move forward. 'The truth is known finally by the whole body' Archbishop Rayner told one Melbourne synod, 'when someone – Peter and Paul or Galileo – is prepared to run the risk and take the plunge.…In the end there is but one test… 'You will know them by their fruits'… The overwhelming impression which I have received from those who have actually experienced the ministry of women in holy orders is one of positive and grateful acceptance'.23 This is essentially what is called the Gamaliel principle (Acts of the Apostles 5: 34) – that is, take the plunge, and if the movement is of the Spirit, it will flourish; but if it is not, it will wither. Seventeen years have elapsed since the first women were ordained to the priesthood, so the Gamaliel principle –'you will know them by their fruits' – may reasonably be applied to the Anglican Church of Australia. Signs are abundant that the Anglican church has withered rather than flourished since the first dioceses 'took the plunge' to ordain women in 1992. These signs include the following:

1. The weakened prestige of the Primate or chief bishop of the Anglican church suggests the diminished standing of the church. I am old enough to remember a time when a primate's utterances were respected and noted in the daily press, and primatial visits were events in a local community. Now

22 The BBC programme on which Hailsham spoke was seen by several million British viewers. Fr T.N.Brien, pers.com 2 August 2009 23 Diocese of Melbourne, Charge… 313 the Anglican primate (he is actually Archbishop Phillip Aspinall of Brisbane) is not only a stranger to the secular Australian public, but is also unknown to most Australian Anglicans, at least outside Queensland.

2 'Impaired communion' exists nowadays not just in relation to the Eastern Orthodox churches, but within the Anglican Communion itself. In Australia, women's ordination has exacerbated already existing tensions within the church, particularly betweens such liberal dioceses as Melbourne and the diocese of Sydney, where women may not be ordained to the priesthood. The appointment in 2003 of the radical Puritan Phillip Jensen as Dean of Sydney is a symbol of Sydney's emphatic rejection of the liberal Protestantism permeating much of the Australian Church. The fact that no Sydney bishop attended the 2008 Lambeth Conference is a further sign of this trend. And, in any case, the Lambeth Conference – once a conference of Anglican bishops – is now a conference of church leaders who may, or may not, regard one another as bishops.

3. Australian Anglicans no longer have a national newspaper. In the 96 years between 1912 and 2008 a circulation of ideas was made possible through The Church Standard (1912-52) followed by The Anglican(1952- 69) then Church Scene (1969-97) and, finally, Market Place (1997-2008). A national Anglican newspaper no longer exists. The last edition of Church Scene (December 1997) announced the secession of a large proportion of Torres Strait Islanders to join a breakaway Anglican international church opposing women's ordination. In May 2008, after a publication span of 14 years, the replacement national newspaper Market Place announced the appointment of of Perth as the first Anglican woman bishop. On the same page Market Place announced that May 2008 would be its last edition. The diocesan newspapers remain vibrant – The Melbourne Anglican, for example, is a fine monthly journal. But as far as the national church is concerned, such common sympathy as once existed has lost its focus in a national newspaper. The 'Gamaliel principle' is again being resolved in the negative.

4. Further polarization and national weakening may well be the long-term result of a willingness to bypass the General Synod to secure women bishops. Before 1992 Archbishop of Perth, the most determined Australian episcopal opponent of the traditional male-only priesthood, made a carefully qualified demand for women priests, that legislation 'must come prayerfully: it must come synodically'. The General Synod of 1992 approved women's priestly ordination after rejecting it earlier; but in 2008, with no likelihood of the appointment of bishops being approved by the required majority, the two women were appointed within the dioceses of Perth and Melbourne. This was in response to a mere legal opinion by the church's Appellate Tribunal, outside the usual national Anglican procedures, and without General Synod approval.

5. It was hoped that the decade following the ordination of women in the Church of England and the Anglican Church of Australia would be a period of expansion - the Decade of Evangelism mentioned earlier. There is

314 evidence of modest growth in the Diocese of Sydney, though even in Sydney the Church has still not kept pace with the population growth. Elsewhere the Church is in a considerably worse state than it was in 1992. In Melbourne in 1996 Anglicans numbered some 270 000, or 15.09 per cent of the population; in 2001, the number had fallen to 13.84 per cent; and in 2006, it was down to 12.07 per cent of Melbourne's population.24

All this is not to suggest that the only direct causal link with numerical decline is simply the ordination of women: the issue is more complex than that, for decline is not uniform and characterizes the mainstream Christian denominations in Europe. (The relatively strong church affiliation in the United States remains the exception). There are some Evangelical parishes which are holding their own. In rural Australia, it may be that the ministry of women has enabled some Anglican churches to survive. It would appear that some - not all - parishes at the extremities of the Anglican spectrum are flourishing while liberal Protestant Broad Church parishes are not, but it is still too early to draw national conclusions. Women's ordination may not actually have contributed to this demographic situation of decline, but the arrival of female priests has done nothing to arrest it.

6. Within Australia, the difficulties posed by women priests will be exacerbated by women bishops. Beyond Australia, two consequences of having women bishops are as follows:

7. The innovation of women priests has weakened the relations between the Anglican Communion on one hand and the Roman Catholic and Orthodox Churches on the other. As stated above, these had improved with visits to Rome of successive archbishops of Canterbury and by the instituting of the Anglican Roman Catholic International Commission.

8. The further impairment of communion occasioned by women bishops in some Anglican churches is not confined to relations with the Roman Catholic Church. It extends to other churches of the Anglican Communion and to ecclesial bodies both Eastern Orthodox and Western. From the Missouri Synod of the Lutheran Church (now active in Eastern Europe) to the Syrian, Armenian and Coptic churches, the adoption of a female episcopate within some Anglican churches finally signals the beginning of an irreconcilable ministry and ecclesiology.

Conclusion It is now unrealistic, indeed it is Quixotic, to seek reunion with the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches through the Roman and Orthodox recognition of Anglican priestly orders. From the 1960s Anglicans, not only in Australia but internationally, were led to believe this was one of the ecumenical goals of the Anglican Communion as a whole. Those Anglicans who still cling to that goal reject the proposal of women's priestly ordination

24 Australian Bureau of Statistics, Census Reports 1996, 2001, 2006; G.Bouma, ‗Census says we‘re slowly losing our religion‘ Melbourne Anglican (451) August 2007, p.16.See also P.Kaldor, Build my Church, Openbook, Adelaide,1999, p.22. 315 because it is contrary to historic Anglican claims to be part of, though not the whole of, the Catholic Church. The Anglican tradition continues suspicious of religious certainties and has tended to make a virtue out of ambiguity. In part this is unavoidable in a church of diverse elements, particularly that of the ongoing dialectic between Protestant and Catholic. But there is no ambiguity about the ultra liberal Episcopal Church of the United States, where dissidents from women's priestly ordination are not allowed alternative ministry and, thus excluded, must seek the sacraments of other Christian churches. There is no 'period of reception' in that church. Similarly, if dissidents are denied alternative bishops in Australia and Britain, the Anglican churches there will have ended the period of reception as well. This thinking would result in two conclusions. Firstly it would strengthen the conviction that Anglican orders are not part of the priesthood of the universal church. Secondly, denied alternative practice within the church of their birth, Anglo Catholic hopes for the mutual recognition of priestly orders between Anglicanism and the ancient churches of Rome and Eastern Orthodoxy will have come to an end. Women's ordination virtually shuts the door on prospects of rapprochement with the Orthodox and the Catholic worlds in the foreseeable future. It follows that, instead of Anglicanism's being a 'bridge church', Rome and Orthodoxy would continue to regard the Anglican Church as belonging simply to the Reformation. This is reflected in the 2008 statement of Cardinal Kasper, President of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, that although the Anglican-Roman Catholic dialogue 'has led to significant agreement on the understanding of ministry, the ordination of women to the episcopate effectively and definitively blocks a possible recognition of Anglican orders by the Catholic Church'. The Anglican church will remain, as Catholics have traditionally regarded it, a Protestant faith, haunted by its Catholic past.

316

Anglican Ecumenism in Australia before World War I: Relations with the Presbyterian Church in Australia

Robert S.M. Withycombe St Mark's Theological Centre, Canberra

Early ecumenical initiatives from the Presbyterian Church of Australia after 1901 aroused warm interest amongst some Anglican leaders in newly federated Australia; but raised anxieties among others for the conservation of their distinctive Anglican identities. The 1905 Anglican General Synod agreed on formal discussions with the Presbyterian Church of Australia in Melbourne. By 1908 several Australian Anglican bishops publicly disagreed with these proceedings. Would the 1908 Lambeth Conference resolve the matter? This paper explores the reasons why that 1908 Lambeth Conference would not and did not do so. Central issues of colonial Australian Anglican identity and independence arose; but by 1914 the national Anglican leaders found that they lacked the legal powers and means, if not the will, to go on negotiating ecumenically.

The initial enthusiasm of certain Australian Anglican laity and clergy (bishops among them) to engage after 1900 in ecumenical discussions with Presbyterians arose primarily from pragmatic considerations, namely, the best use of local Christians' limited human and financial resources, and the need to reduce the ungodly effects of Christian competitiveness in Australian colonies, as well as on overseas mission fields. Early Anglican ecumenical cooperation was impeded by at least three factors: first by lack of precedents for such action; second by the discovery that they had no independent legal power nor any plenipotential instrument to negotiate the terms of any such national inter-church cooperation; and third by the persistence of distinctive cultural and ecclesiological assumptions that were at that time dominant in Anglican episcopal self-understanding. Optimism and renewed confidence characterized the first decade of the new Commonwealth proclaimed on 1 January 1901, despite the financial collapses of the 1890s and the persistent inequities of social conditions that fed class war in Australia. The smoke and grief of World War 1 has obscured to later eyes the sunshine and hope of Australians in those previous decades. With voting rights for women and universal suffrage for men went progressive initiatives in social welfare legislation. Within this climate of optimism, national achievement and growing international awareness, church ecumenism also prospered. The importance of this ecumenism for the century that followed has yet to be translated into general Australian church historiography. Ecumenism then took several forms. As Frank Engel put it in 1984: 'the running tide of ecumenism followed along four channels. These were the Student Christian Movement, the overseas missionary movement, the women's movement and the church union

317 movement.' 1 These channels were inter-related, and mutually encouraging. The Federation of the Australian states in 1901 coincided with a movement towards organic union within and amongst Protestant churches. A Congregational Union of Australia had been formed in 1891, and the four separate surviving Methodist Churches finally united in 1902. The newly- united Presbyterian Church of Australia held its first national General Assembly in Sydney in July 1901. Delegates from the Wesleyan Church and the Congregational and Baptist Unions were present - and spoke. A letter of congratulation was received from the Anglican Archbishop of Sydney, as Primate of Australia. That first national Presbyterian Assembly began moves for an even wider union: 'a Federation of the Protestant Churches of the Commonwealth'. A sub-committee was set up to draft principles on which it might be constructed. These aroused much debate at the 1902 Assembly, but with union 'in the air' the first national Presbyterian Moderator, John Meiklejohn, expressed the hope for something wider. So, almost unanimously, the 1902 General Assembly agreed to approach other Protestant Churches to discuss closer union, and it sent them their draft Articles or principles as a basis for further discussion. Thus, probably for the first time in Australian history, a major church body publicly expressed its sympathy with a 'larger union', bravely conceived of it in broad terms, and actually took steps towards it. Dr Clouston on the Assembly's behalf wrote in November 1902: 'All were agreed on the desirability of discussing the matter with the view of discovering whether some means of overcoming the apparent difficulties could not be devised in a friendly conference with brethren representing the various branches of the Christian Church in Australia'. Progress was uneven. In the decades that followed, Engel argued, the ecumenical pendulum 'swung rather unevenly and unsteadily from federation to full union, and back to a measure of cooperation, and then to rest in denominationalism, as the churches explored possibilities together.'2 Among the leaders of Protestant churches who received the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Australia's December 1902 letter were the Anglican Primate and his fellow diocesan bishops. That letter invited each of them to select representatives to discuss with Presbyterian representatives how some unity in federation of their Churches might be effected. It was not the first time that cooperation between Anglicans and Presbyterians had been explored. In the colony of Victoria both Churches claimed establishment status back home; both prized an educated ministry; and, apart from these ecclesial concerns, both clearly possessed social and class affinities. Both were the Churches of the wealthier classes, and of the colony's social élite. Melbourne's Bishop Perry had been asked in 1873 to allow alternate appointment to certain country parishes or charges as a lay solution to sustaining and expanding an effective Protestant ministry in those rural areas. A Memorial on greater inter-Church unity to support this request had also been organised by laymen of the Church of England and other Protestant denominations. They emphasised how in the colonies a scattered population could only afford to maintain one Protestant minister in

1 Frank Engel, Australian Christians in Conflict and Unity, Melbourne, Joint Board of Christian Education, 1984, p. 131ff 2 Engel, Australian Christians in Conflict and Unity, p.168. 318 rural areas. The Anglican petitioners wanted to cooperate with Presbyterians by setting up a fund to provide Protestant clergy in thinly populated districts. Previously in 1870 their Presbyterian and Anglican Church Assemblies had already proposed joint action to supply 'divine ordinances in the thinly populated districts'.3 Melbourne's Bishop Perry, Dean Macartney and Archdeacon Stretch were among the Anglican delegates to a conference with ministers and elders of the Presbyterian Church of Victoria in July 1872. It agreed to set up a joint Pastoral Aid Society, which had a twofold aim: to 'collect and distribute funds with a view to securing more adequate provision for the religious instruction to the people resident in thinly-populated districts of the colony, and for the better maintenance of the ministers of the district'.4 According to Dargaville a committee appointed to effect this worked actively for a decade, 'gathering and distributing substantial amounts of money'. Anglicans allowed use of their buildings for other than Prayer Book services. Exchange of pulpits aroused controversy, however, not least when on 25 February 1883 Canon Bromby at St Paul's Cathedral exchanged pulpits with Dr Charles Strong of Scots Church! 5 Yet neither the Anglican Church nor the Presbyterian Church Assembly gave formal support to what remained a lay-led initiative. Why? Some Anglican clergy were uncooperative and along with some laity opposed it. England's Archbishop Tait of Canterbury initially supported this initiative but urged Perry (who consulted him in 1873) to gain the backing of his Church Assembly. Several leading Melbourne clergy and laity, however, petitioned Tait against allowing this move. They doubted the orthodoxy of its backers, and opposed any invitations to ministers of other denominations to preach in Anglican pulpits.6

Australian Anglican responses to the Presbyterians' 1902 initiative Anglican responses in 1902 were not precipitant, but (according to Dargaville) 'surprisingly warm'. Bishop A.W. Pain of Gippsland, who later attended the 1910 Edinburgh Conference, eagerly welcomed Clouston's letter, telling his 1903 Church Assembly that it was 'the first official overture to any part of the Anglican Church made by another Church'. Arguing pragmatically he asserted 'our efforts to provide for the spiritual needs of our scattered population are considerably weakened by much wasteful overlapping and much unseemly competition (applause)', adding that 'the religious rivalry that exists is a scandal and the effect produced upon our people is oftentimes disastrous in the extreme (applause)'.7 Inherited Established Church disdain for Dissent did not prevail in this Victorian bishop. The Melbourne Anglican Church Assembly with Archbishop Lowther Clarke's support also expressed its cordial and warm

3 The Revd Douglas Dargaville, ‘Ecumenism and the Diocese of Melbourne’, pp. 179, 181-2 in Brian Porter (ed.) Melbourne Anglicans 1847-1997 , Joint Board of Christian Education, 1997. 4 Dargaville, ‘Ecumenism and the Diocese of Melbourne’, p. 182 5 Dargaville, ‘Ecumenism and the Diocese of Melbourne’, p. 182 6 See Archbishops’ Papers, Lambeth Palace Library, London, Tait Papers, vol. 194, ff.5- 38. 7 Church of England Messenger, 2 November 1903, p.135; Engel, 1984, p.169. 319

'concurrence with the objects sought to be obtained'.8 With an unusual show of unanimity the Anglican bishops did not respond independently but sought a common mind. Prior to the General Synod held in October 1905, the Primate, Archbishop W.S. Smith, met as usual in conference with his fellow bishops to discuss issues of importance to them. One was a concerted response to this letter from the Presbyterians. The bishops agreed to accept the invitation. They prepared a motion for the following General Synod, which passed it with only slight amendment.9 This successful motion, moved with enthusiasm by Bishop Pain of Gippsland, and seconded by Bishop H.E. Cooper of Grafton and Armidale, read in its final amended form:

That the Primate having communicated to this Synod a letter from the Revd T.E.Clouston, Convener of the Committee of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Australia, on Federation with other Churches, which has been addressed to him and to other Bishops of Dioceses in Australia and Tasmania, this Synod determines to appoint Representatives of the Church of England in Australia and Tasmania to discuss with the Representatives appointed by the Presbyterian Church of Australia, the possibility of a closer union, and to report to the Primate.

That the following be the Representatives, viz., The Archbishop of Melbourne, the Bishop of Ballarat, the Bishop of Grafton and Armidale, the Bishop of Tasmania, the Bishop of Bendigo, the Bishop of Perth, the Bishop of Gippsland, the Revd Canon Nash, the Dean of Newcastle, the Archdeacon of Melbourne, Archdeacon Nield, the Revd Canon Stephen, the Ven. H.F. Le Fanu, Canon Boyce, Canon Dodd, Canon Lefroy, Mr W.E. Morris, Mr Cumbrae-Stewart, Mr Henry Henty and Mr John Kent.10

Australian Anglican bishops' responses to these 1902 Presbyterian overtures were tempered by caution, however, to avoid acting unilaterally and against the advice of Canterbury and other Anglican bishops world- wide, and by reluctance to do anything that endangered their esteemed reformed Catholic heritage as the colonial representatives of the Church of England. Nevertheless, more pragmatic considerations were paramount in these conversations, such as maximising the use of scarce resources to sustain ministry to dispersed populations and to join together to secure better training of colonial clergy. Formal discussions with the Presbyterians began in Melbourne on 27-29 November 1906, in the Chapter House of St Paul's Cathedral Melbourne. Further meetings occurred in October 1907, and then in April 1909.11 They produced Resolutions on issues of faith, awarding of degrees, and modes of union. On 29 May 1907 Archbishop Clarke of Melbourne

8 Engel, Australian Christians in Conflict and Unity, p.169. 9 Dargaville, ‘Ecumenism and the Diocese of Melbourne’, p.182. 10 Anglican General Synod Minutes, 1905 11 Engel, Australian Christians in Conflict and Unity, p.170. 320 sent Archbishop Davidson of Canterbury their (albeit provisional) conclusions, insisting he would not commit the Church of England in Australia until after the coming 1908 Lambeth Conference. Among the documents he forwarded was a Draft of a Solemn Act of Union to form a 'United Church of Australia'. Clarke had discovered that the Methodists also wished to be included, about which he had more reservations.12 His letter seems to have been circulated amongst English bishops, since Bishop John Wordsworth of Salisbury sent Clarke 25 copies of his own paper on Presbyterians and the reunion of Churches. Davidson replied to Clarke on 12 July 1907 assuring him (rather ambiguously) that the coming October Conference in Melbourne 'must receive the closest attention of all interested in reunion', and that 'Reunion' would be discussed at the 1908 Lambeth Conference.13 Bishop C.O.L. Riley of Perth was one bishop who was unhappy with the way discussions were proceeding. He wrote on 13 March 1908 to Clarke, to his fellow Australian Anglican bishops and to Archbishop Davidson, saying he rejoiced, of course, in any effort at unity between Anglicans and Presbyterians, but he feared short-cut solutions. The non- episcopal character of most Presbyterian ordinations raised a fundamental difficulty for him, as a High Churchman. Furthermore, whatever was done in Australia, advisedly or not, affected the whole Anglican Church. Extreme caution was needed, he thought, for although on the one hand he predicted that Australia may in future lead the way in Christian reunion, so on the other hand they should not spoil that possibility through premature and unilateral alliance with one Church alone. Riley called on his fellow bishops to make clear to both to Archbishop Clarke and to the Archbishop of Canterbury that the Church of England in Australia and Tasmania was 'in no way responsible' for the final Draft Report of the Joint Melbourne Conference. One assumes he was in a minority in that conference, as he was clearly opposed to its Report.14 Australian Anglican bishops decided in their 1905 General Synod to begin discussions with the Presbyterians, but they were unwilling to make any commitment to change before hearing the counsel and advice of their fellow Anglican bishops assembled at the Lambeth Conference in 1908. Yet giving such a formal opinion on any particular matter was not something Lambeth Conferences had done or would choose to do. An attempt to have the first Lambeth Conference espouse Bishop Gray of Capetown's cause in 1867 failed. In this respect the Australian bishops were asking Lambeth Conference to exercise a power of specific arbitration it would be unwilling to exercise.

'Reunion' issues at the 1908 Lambeth Conference 'Reunion' had been on the agenda of previous Lambeth Conferences in 1888 and again in 1897. The famous 'Lambeth/Chicago Quadrilateral' had been formulated in 1888. It enunciated four criteria intended to guide or govern future dialogue on reunion: (I) the Holy Scriptures as 'containing all things necessary to salvation', and as being the rule and ultimate standard of faith;

12 Davidson Papers, Lambeth Palace Library, vol. 149 ff72-5, 79-85. 13 Davidson Papers, vol. 149, ff88-91. 14 Davidson Papers, vol. 149, ff109-112. 321

(II) the Apostles' Creed as the baptismal symbol; and the Nicene Creed, as a sufficient statement of the Christian faith; (III) the two Sacraments ordained by Christ Himself -- Baptism and the Supper of the Lord -- ministered with unfailing use of Christ's words of institution, and of the elements ordained by Him; and (IV) the Historic Episcopate, locally adapted in the methods of its administration to the varying needs of the nations and people called of God into the unity of the Church. As years wore on 'the Historic Episcopate' became for some Anglicans not one means but the sole acceptable means of providing such a joint ministry. Yet it is significant that the 1920 Lambeth Conference revised and rephrased this last point, so that there is no explicit mention of the 'Historic Episcopate'. It appears in its 'Appeal to all Christian People' as follows: 'A ministry acknowledged by every part of the Church as possessing not only the inward call of the Spirit, but also the commission of Christ and the authority of the whole body.' The 1897 Lambeth Conference reaffirmed the 1888 Quadrilateral and urged fellow Anglicans to take more initiative in fostering ecumenical dialogue, and not only with Presbyterians (as among 'Non-episcopalian Churches'), but with Orthodox and other Churches of the East, the Scandinavian Church (Conservative Lutheran), Old Catholics and Unitas Fratrum (the Moravians) as well. In the colonies and on the mission field, as well as in northern Europe, some such dialogues began, as seen in certain Canadian initiatives towards Presbyterians.15 The 1908 Lambeth Conference debates on 'Reunion and Inter- Communion' had a wide compass. Bishop John Wordsworth of Salisbury, who chaired their 'Reunion' drafting Committee, introduced its Report by explaining his view of the Anglicans' distinctive role in any ecumenism: 'Our object has been to bring out the mediating position of the Anglican Communion in a divided Christendom'. He believed: 'that mediating position has been recognised or assumed by many others who are not members of our Communion, and it is, I venture to think, a leading principle of our own.'16 Their wide-ranging Report dealt with Anglican relations with (I) 'The Orthodox Eastern Church', (II) 'the Separate Churches of the East (as 'fallen churches')', (III) 'The Latin Communion', (IV) 'The Separate Churches of the West', (V) 'the Scandinavian Churches', VI 'the Unitas Fratrum' (the Moravians) and finally (VII) 'the Presbyterian and Other Non- Episcopal Churches'. 17 Archbishop Clarke of Melbourne, who had been elected Joint Chairman of the Australian discussions, opened the 1908 Lambeth Conference's debate on 'Reunion'. He spoke as one anticipating opposition. He assured them that Australian Anglicans were unwilling to proceed unilaterally without first receiving the Lambeth Conference's advice. Accordingly the Australian bishops, led by their Primate, had postponed any independent General Synod or official episcopal discussion of their Joint Report until after Lambeth Conference had met. No one in the movement for Reunion by union with the Australian Presbyterians, he claimed, wanted to do anything 'which will create a new schism in Australia, or which will

15 Lambeth Conference, 65, f74 (Quebec), and f115 (Montreal). 16 Lambeth Conference Archives, Lambeth Palace Library, LC 70, f77. 17 Davidson Papers, vol. 149, ff109-112. 322 separate us in our Church in Australia, from the fullest and freest communion with the Church of England [Applause']'.18 He outlined the first seven resolutions of the Australian Joint Report, the first three of which substantially accorded with the first three elements of the 1888 Quadrilateral. The next four aimed to define the conditions for and meaning of 'the act of ordination', which they also defined. These resolutions, he said, were public. The remaining resolutions had been kept strictly private until Lambeth Conference gave them their advice on them. The first of these remaining resolutions declared their opposition to any State Church in Australia. The next touched 'a common succession of orders' prior to the Reformation, and the continuance of ordination to the priesthood afterwards.' (This alleged 'statement of historical fact' skirted the issue of whether any 'apostolic succession' was essential.) Resolution 10 was very specific: it proposed 'that a union of our Church and the Presbyterian Church in Australia be effected and consummated by a joint Solemn Act under the authority and sanction of both Churches'; but that resolution, as Clarke candidly remarked, did not have the unanimous support of the Anglican representatives. Resolution 11 spoke of 'superintendence': 'That some form of individual superintendence and government constitutionally exercised, is expedient for the united Church, and that authority to execute such superintendence and government shall be conferred by a Solemn Act of Consecration duly administered on a presbyter' (that is one who is already in priest's orders) 'with the title of Bishop exclusively attached'. This, Clarke explained, was an example of a 'tentative' and 'educational' resolution. Opinion differed, he said, over the next three resolutions: '(12) That the person to hold the office of a Bishop shall be elected by the Church in accordance with regulations duly authorized'; '(13) That a Bishop in his administration shall be subject to all duly enacted laws of the Church' and then '(14) That the length of tenure of office as a Bishop having jurisdiction shall be determined by the Church'. Resolution (15) insisted that anyone ordained to the office of a presbyter be ordained by a bishop and three presbyters at least. That, he argued, was consistent with the Anglican Ordinal. But 'out of deference to the wishes of the Presbyterians' at the consecration of a bishop, not only were three bishops at least to participate, but also 'such presbyters as may be appointed for the purpose'.19 Clarke told them that he believed that provision should be expunged. Other provisions allowed for the continued use of the Book of Common Prayer, or other duly authorized forms of liturgy, with the three orders of Bishop, Priest and Deacon distinguished from 'inferior orders', 'such as Lay Reader, Churchwarden and something analogous to the Lay Elder in the Presbyterian Church'. Problems of re-ordination were readily recognised. In concluding he noted that while the Presbyterians in Australia 'will not accept re-ordination, I think they are prepared to accept a new Commission for a new work'.20 He then sat down to applause. Early in these Lambeth debates it emerged that the Australians were not the only Anglicans in ecumenical dialogue with Presbyterians.

18 Lambeth Conference, LC 65, ff63-68. 19 Lambeth Conference, LC 65, f74 (Quebec), and f115 (Montreal). 20 Lambeth Conference, LC 65, f68. 323

Anglicans in Montreal had also initiated serious conversations, about which the Bishop of Quebec was optimistic, but his neighbouring Bishop of Montreal was definitely not.21 Despite the Australian bishops' hopes, the 1908 Lambeth Conference did not formally give any specific advice either to them or to the Canadians. Its debate dealt with links with Presbyterians (and other 'Non-episcopal' churches) in the context of the difficult historical relationship of the Scottish Episcopal Church to the Presbyterian Church of Scotland. Archbishop Davidson had been raised in the Church of Scotland, but Conference debates on the Report on 'Reunion' with Presbyterian and other non- episcopal churches, were chaired by Cosmo Gordon Lang, then Bishop of Stepney and a person likely to preserve the Anglicans' catholic heritage. The Lambeth Conference in debating the Report dealt with the Australians' matter in very general, sympathetic but regionally unspecific terms.22 Yet there were also other issues besides those of correct church order and discipline. Behind these 1908 debates were ecclesiological issues of recognizing and preserving their 'historic episcopate' and its 'apostolic succession', since many Anglican bishops were still smarting from the 1896 Papal denial of the validity of Anglican orders. They were unlikely in such circumstances to take any steps that might jeopardise the supposed apostolic purity of their contested episcopal pedigree. Some Lambeth bishops in 1908 thought it ironic that the Orthodox and other Eastern Churches should question the historical basis of Roman claims to Petrine foundation of their episcopate (and therefore to a Petrine supremacy of their see), while the Roman Catholics should on historical grounds be questioning Anglican claims to have retained a tactile apostolic episcopal succession, and while at the same time as Anglicans distanced themselves from the Church of Scotland (and other Presbyterian Churches) on the historical grounds that they lacked it. Others, like the eminent Bishop of Durham, asked whether this insistence on a succession of tactile episcopal consecration (regarded as an essential mark of a true Church, and to be regarded as a vital component of any reunited Church) had any warrant, either in the Bible or in the Church of the first three centuries, where the emphasis lay more in securing the succession of Biblical and apostolic teaching through the appointment of bishops who would faithfully preserve, defend and transmit it in its catholic fulness.23 In this regard the Bishop of Stepney in moving the Report regretted a 'downgrade tendency among the Presbyterian bodies' worldwide.24 The later 19th century was a time of growing religious uncertainty. In a time of reaction to challenge to religious (or was it clerical?) authority, when many Roman Catholics reverted to Papal Infallibility, and some Protestants to a Biblical Infallibility, it is likely that some Anglicans sought security in their Church's prized possession: the apostolic origin and succession (and therefore the authority) of their historic episcopate. At the Lambeth Conference in 1908 several bishops regarded this

21 Lambeth Conference, 65, f74 (Quebec), and f115 (Montreal). 22 Lambeth Conference, 70, ff76, 134-186; LC 73, ff81-84. 23 Contemporary Review, January 1902. 24 Lambeth Conference, 65, f137. 324 prized possession as the basis of their claim to a unique ecumenical role: that their Church of England was that Church by whom and through whom Church reunion would be achieved and the Christian Churches' inter- communion restored. Their ecumenical self-image (like that of Bishop John Wordsworth) was that of a core Church that was both catholic and yet reformed. The 1908 debates show that these Anglicans regarded their Church as the ideal instrument for reunion, possessing what others lacked: a historic episcopate (with apostolic succession), and a reformed Catholicism expressed in its ministry, its sacraments, creeds and in its Biblically-based corpus of teaching. Since this was their richest possession to offer to the ecumenical movement, they had no wish to devalue it by any premature relationship with the Presbyterians. (Nor did Lambeth Conference bishops in 1908 wish to undermine and devalue the catholic stance and role of the Episcopal Church of Scotland.) They tended to regard ecumenism as a process enabling them to supply what others had lost. They stood to lose rather than gain in dealing with Presbyterians. They were more afraid of depreciating their currency than of being enriched through closer links with others. In 1908 Lambeth Conference's debates some Anglican bishops also feared that Presbyterians were 'downgrading' their theological commitments and wished to quarantine themselves from infection by this liberalising and doctrinally depreciating tendency.

Australian Anglican consequences Australian Anglicans did not receive the specific advice they sought from the 1908 Lambeth Conference. Its formal statements professed to deal with the Anglican Communion as a whole; and yet when speaking of relations with the Presbyterians they had the established Presbyterian Church of Scotland very closely in view, and the history of its past dealings with the Anglican Episcopalians there. Furthermore, they dealt with it as an issue of proper Church order, and not as the Australian advocates of cooperation had argued, namely as a valuable cooperative step in fulfilling the Church's missionary task. The Australian ecumenical overtures had begun, like those on the mission field, as an invitation to explore joint pastoral care and evangelism through sharing scarce resources. In the religious pluralism that colonial Anglicanism faced, their 'episcopacy' very often became a distinguishing characteristic, and was prized partly for that reason. Furthermore, any Anglicans in Australia wishing to proceed to enter into closer union with Presbyterians faced serious legal as well as ecclesiological difficulties. Many Australian colonial dioceses had in the 1850s and 1860s defined themselves as 'Church of England' by their identity with whatever obtained in the Church of England at the time. To act in ways different to what obtained in England would jeopardise the very legal grounds on which their continued use of their property and other assets depended. Their consequent attempts in 1910-12 to discover how close the legal nexus of the Australian dioceses to the Church of England was, showed it to be very close indeed. The final legal Opinions demonstrated in effect that they had no power to negotiate unilaterally either with the Presbyterians or any other Church in Australia. Nor had they (given the consultative status of their Australian General

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Synod) any national constitutional means of doing so.25 These considerations put an end by 1912 to the first phase of Anglican ecumenical 'flirtation'. Those Anglicans who held loyally to their inherited episcopacy as an essential component of any reunited Church might risk seeing their Church die in isolation, while for some Anglicans such isolating adherence to the necessity for 'the historic episcopate' was an offense to the Gospel. Yet the former group would rather risk perishing in order to keep their Church's apostolic and catholic integrity intact, regarding it as an essential element for their vision of its future mediating role in ecumenism.

25 Robert S.M. Withycombe, ‘Imperial Nexus and National Anglican Identity: the Australian 1911-12 Legal Nexus Opinions Revisited’ Journal of Anglican Studies, vol. 2, 1, 2004, pp.62-80. 326

Church, Chapel, Hall or Shed? Anglican churches in the Australian Capital Territory

Susan Mary Withycombe St Mark's National Theological Centre

Members of the Anglican church of St John the Baptist at Canberry [sic] faced many challenges when the land on which their church was built was chosen as the site of the capital city of the new Commonwealth of Australia and the Commonwealth Government took over a substantial portion of their extensive rural parish – some 900 square miles (2,331 square kilometres) – to be the Capital Territory. This paper will examine how they responded to the challenges of losing their church lands, including the glebe, the rectory, the school and the cemetery; having a six-acre “cathedral” site foisted upon them; dealing with a new national dimension to their local affairs; welcoming and ministering to successive inflows of new Anglican residents from all parts of Australia, all of them with different experiences and concepts of Anglicanism and the “proper” way to do things; and finding or building suitable places of worship for new congregations in daughter and granddaughter churches as the original bush parish was transformed into a city. Their earliest and most generous benefactors were the first to be dispossessed by the Commonwealth and obliged to move away from the district. No large grants of money were bestowed on them for buildings and endowments: they had to fund everything themselves. This paper explores how they did so – usually with enterprise and creativity, and in co-operation with other Christian communities.

In the summer of 1913, not long before Lady Denman officially named the site of the Federal Capital City of Australia as 'Canberra',1 the Commonwealth Government gave Frederick and Christina Campbell five weeks notice to leave their homestead and the 24,000 acre property Campbell had built up over twenty years to be one of the finest pastoral stations in the country: Yarralumla.2 The Commonwealth had already purchased nearby Duntroon from Campbell's cousin John Campbell and established on it the first national institution in the Federal Capital Territory, the Royal Military College.3 Duntroon was granted to their grandfather, Robert ('Merchant') Campbell, in

1 ‗Canberra,‘ the place name, is derived from the name of its Indigenous people. One of the first white land-owners, J.J. Moore, named his property on the future site of the Australian National University by a variant form, ‗Canberry‘ ; its second owner re-named it ‗Acton‘. The Queanbeyan Federal Capital League used ‗Canberra‘ or ‗Yass-Canberra‘ to refer to the site they successfully promoted for the Federal Capital. The name was officially given to the city at its foundation ceremony on 12 March, 1913. 2 The story of the Campbell family is told by C.E.T. Newman (Frederick Campbell‘s son- in-law), The Spirit of Wharf House: Campbell Enterprise from Calcutta to Canberra, 1788-1930 (Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1961); that of Yarralumla in C.D. Coultard- Clark, ed., Gables, Ghosts and Governors-General: The historic House at Yarralumla, Canberra, Sydney, Allen & Unwin, 1988. 3 At first it was known variously as the Territory for the Seat of Government, the Federal Capital Territory, or the Australian Capital Territory. This last name was formally adopted for legal purposes in 1938. 327

1825.4 John had never made his home there, but his younger brother Frederick Arthur was living at Woden, an outstation of Duntroon, and since not all the land was required for the military college he was able to lease a portion of it surrounding his house. Some of his descendants are living there still, but like everyone else in the Territory they no longer have freehold title to the land. From 1 January, 1911, when they were separated from the State of New South Wales, the lands of the Capital Territory have belonged to the Commonwealth Government and may be resumed whenever that Government deems fit. Fred Campbell had been one of the most active promoters of Canberra as the site of the capital city as President of the Queanbeyan Federal Capital League from 1901.5 He had much to lose when the campaign succeeded since he owned nearly all the land destined to become the southern part of the city. He knew that the Government would resume his land eventually, but the notice came sooner than expected. It was the kind of transition that people like to call 'the end of an era': but it was not the end of the world. Fred had purchased other properties over the years where he and Christina and their children might go to live, or he might use the (stingy) compensation money to buy them some new home. Meanwhile they had accepted the invitation of their friend the Bishop of Goulburn to stay at Bishopsthorpe. The Campbell family was very generous to the Diocese of Goulburn and its bishops. The first, Mesac Thomas, had married Frederick and Christina in 1889. They were offered the use of Bishopsthorpe by the third, Christopher George Barlow, who preferred to live in the town of Goulburn rather than in the official residence several miles outside it. Decades before the diocese was founded, Robert Campbell provided most of the necessary funds for the first Anglican clergyman's stipend and residence in Queanbeyan, the nearest village to Duntroon. In 1840, he and his friend William Grant Broughton, Bishop of Australia, selected a site some two miles west of Duntroon for a new church to meet the needs of a growing community in the district already known as 'Canberra'. The Bishop consecrated the church in March, 1845; it was dedicated to St John the Baptist, who preached in the wilderness.6 Much of the parish was wilderness. Beyond the Murrumbidgee, mountain slopes and ridges rise steeply to the west and south. The valleys contain some pasture for livestock, but original forest still clothes most of it,

4 Margaret Steven, ‗Campbell, Robert (1769 - 1846)‘, Australian Dictionary of Biography, 1, pp. 202-206. 5 Their endeavours may be traced through the pages of the local press, especially the Queanbeyan Age and the Queanbeyan Observer. The story of the selection of Canberra has been told briefly by Lionel Wigmore, ‗The Battle of the Sites‘ in Canberra: History of Australia‟s National Capital, Canberra, Dalton Publishing Company, 1972, pp. 26-40; L. F. Fitzhardinge, ‗In Search of a Capital City‘, in H.L. White (ed.), Canberra: A Nation‟s Capital, Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1954, pp. 3-13; and G.E. Sherington, ‗The Selection of Canberra as Australia‘s National Capital,‘ Journal of the Royal Australian Historical Society, vol. 56, 2, 1970, pp. 134-147; S.M.W. Withycombe, Gale Force: John Gale and the Siting of the National Capital, Queanbeyan, Queanbeyan & District Centenary of Federation Committee Inc., 2001, pp. 79-88, 97-108. 6 Alfred Herbert Body, Firm Still You Stand: The Anglican Church of St John the Baptist, Canberra, its Parish and Parishioners, 1841-1984, Canberra, St John‘s Parish Council, 1986, pp. 7-15. 328 preserving the purity of the water catchment for the city. In 1911, the more remote mountains and gullies, though familiar to Aborigines, were 'still practically unknown' to white people. The dwellings of the white inhabitants were scattered over the lowlands, clustering more thickly around the larger station properties. A couple of villages had formed at Hall to the north and Tharwa across the Murrumbidgee River to the west. The commercial centre of the district was Queanbeyan, just outside the Territory to the east, with a population in 1911 of 1,425.7 An area of about twelve square miles sprinkled with a few cottages and farm buildings and divided by the Molonglo River was marked off as the actual site of the city. The little stone church of St John the Baptist stood in the centre, above flood level on the northern side. Nine hundred square miles of the parish had become a separate civil entity; but from the Church of England's point of view, Canberra remained part of the large rural Diocese of Goulburn, which covered most of south-eastern New South Wales from the coast to the Riverina, from the Lachlan River to the Victorian border. Anglicans, Roman Catholics, Presbyterians and Methodists had been active in the district for many decades. Although their organisations, forms of worship and some of their doctrines differed, they also had much in common. The area was large, its people scattered, its buildings few, and its financial resources limited. A visit from a clergyman of any denomination was rare in the highlands and provided an occasion for a social event as much as a church ceremony. Christians of all denominations co-operated and shared their scarce resources. Only the Anglicans had a separate parish and a resident clergyman in Canberra.8 St John's was the only church building within the designated city area, and the parish also had a new church at Tharwa, dedicated in 1908, and the remains of one at Ginninderra, built in 1861 and used for services until 1900, but severely damaged in a storm in 1904 and allowed to fall into ruin.9 The other denominations were based in Queanbeyan, though each had a church building in the Territory – the Roman Catholics had two. Services do not have to be conducted in special church buildings: schools, community halls, private homes, even large sheds accommodated worshippers before churches were built. It may even be argued that not having buildings make churches more adaptable to new circumstances. The Anglican parish was larger than the whole Territory. In 1911, the Rector conducted a morning service at St John's every Sunday, but also rode out to take monthly services at Sutton, Tharwa, Gundaroo, Uriarra and Bulga Creek, The other three denominations held services within the Territory every Sunday. Travelling long distances between centres of worship on Sundays, or in order to make emergency visits to the sick or dying, was the lot of every clergyman. In these circumstances lay people took on more responsibility for work which in closer settled areas is usually done by clergy, such as teaching and leading worship services. Women, especially those of some

7 Population of Queanbeyan in 1911 supplied by Queanbeyan Visitor Information Centre. 8 The term ‗parish‘ is used by most of the churches concerned, but in Methodist terms Canberra was part of a ‗circuit‘. 9 Body, Firm Still You Stand, pp. 81,100. 329 social standing, initiated some of these activities. Kate Crace, mistress of Gungahleen Station10, for example, conducted Sunday School for the children as well as an evening service in her homestead every Sunday, reading from a religious book in place of a sermon.11 The Methodist Church made the greatest use of lay leaders, having a system of Local Preachers and Bible Class leaders who shared responsibility for ministry with the clergyman under a Superintendent Minister. The Presbyterians, who gave pastoral responsibility to duly ordained Elders, were a close second in this approach to ecclesiology.

The Foundation of the City The ministry to newcomers in Canberra grew naturally out of this well- established pattern. The commencement of work on the city added to the responsibilities of clergy as people arrived to plan and build. The surveyors came first, then the personnel and students of the RMC, which opened at the end of June, 1911, and then the engineers and construction workers, architects and builders. Work on roads, railway link, water supply, waste- water and sewage disposal, electric power generation, and the sourcing and production of building materials, was undertaken before the winner of the competition for designing the Federal Capital City was announced on 14 May, 1912. The actual increase in population at that stage was not very large: the Commonwealth Department of Home Affairs, responsible for the capital city, remained in Melbourne; about thirty 'officers' most of them young men, some with wives and children, lived at Acton, the administrative centre for the Federal Capital project.12 The labour force for the preliminary works on infrastructure peaked at 754 in October, 1913, but declined quickly as jobs were completed. Not all of the workers were newcomers; many locals seized the job opportunities offered by the capital city project. The planners worked towards an initial population of 25,000, and expected that it would increase proportionally with that of Australia as a whole.13 In the event, the population of Canberra did not reach the initial estimate for about forty years.14 Church authorities made some adjustments to accommodate a greater workload for the clergy due to a larger population, but the ministry remained essentially a local and rural ministry. The immediate problem for ministry was geographical dispersal, as workers lived in camps beside scattered construction sites. In 1913, the Anglican Bishop of Goulburn relieved the new Rector of St John's (the Rev'd Frederick G. Ward) of the responsibility for the churches at Sutton, Gundaroo and Tharwa; but he remained responsible for six other out-centres, and now also for the new administrative residential area at Acton and five construction camps, not to

10 The name of the station was spelled ‗Gungahleen‘, the modern suburb ‗Gungahlin‘. 11 Body, Firm Still You Stand, pp. 77, 84. 12 The Commonwealth acquired Acton on 25 February, 1911. It is now the site of the Australian National University. Gibbney, 1988, p. 5; Procter, 2001, pp. 24, 157 13John W. Reps, Canberra 1912: Plans and Planners of the Australian Capital Competition, Melbourne, Melbourne University Press, 1997, p. 69. 14 At the census of 1947, Canberra had a population of 16,905; by the next census in 1954 it had risen to 30,315. 330 mention the Royal Military College, Duntroon. The Rector held a service at Duntroon every Sunday morning except the first in the month, when RMC personnel were encouraged to attend his celebration of Holy Communion at St John's. Fortunately he now had the help of a lay reader, Professor F.W. Robinson from the RMC, but he needed an ordained assistant. When the parish appointed one in August, 1914, the Bishop made St John's parish responsible again for Sutton and Gundaroo.15 But Canberra was no longer just a rural parish; it was to be the Capital City of the Commonwealth of Australia. This national dimension complicated the work of the clergy and their congregations. Without intending to harm or hinder, the Commonwealth Government did little to help the churches' ministry to the people who actually lived in Canberra. The first government action to have a significant effect on the churches was the resumption of land. In order to prevent speculation in real-estate, all land in the Capital Territory was to belong to the Government and would be only leased to users.16 This included the land on which Canberra's handful of churches had been built. On 27 July, 1912, the Commonwealth of Australia Gazette announced the compulsory acquisition of the two acres on which St John's church and cemetery stood, and also 119 acres of glebe land, including the Rectory and pasture for the Rector's horse.17 Some compensation would be paid for the land and buildings – but how does one put a price on a church? The church authorities conceded the glebe, but reacted vigorously to the take-over of the church and cemetery. The Diocesan Registrar wrote to the Minister of Home Affairs expressing the 'very strong feelings' of local families about the graveyard in which the pioneers of the district – their ancestors – had been interred, and their even stronger feelings about the church. That land and its buildings had been solemnly consecrated for all time and used for sacred purposes for nearly eighty years. But the most the Commonwealth would offer was a ten-year lease of the church and churchyard. The matter was not settled until 1927, when the Government agreed to dedicate 'for church purposes' the church, the churchyard and the land just south of the church on which a new Rectory was built, for an unlimited duration and a fixed annual rental of 'one peppercorn, if demanded'. Government acquisitions affected the churches in more ways than one. As their lands were resumed, many church members left the district. With the Campbells' departure St John's lost its most generous benefactors. New people came instead – construction workers and public servants with their families – but the parishioners of St John's had to work harder to raise funds by means of community events like fêtes as well as by direct personal giving, to pay clergy stipends, to maintain the old buildings and construct new ones as the city grew. One of the first of these events was a Sports Day, held on a cold, bleak Saturday in May, 1915, to raise funds for a Mission Hall near the Power House.18 It was such a success that the Parish Council decided that similar events should be held every year. But the next was not held until

15 Body, Firm Still You Stand, pp. 110-112. 16 Seat of Government (Administration) Act 1910. 17 Body, Firm Still You Stand, pp. 105-107, 119-126. 18 ‗Canberra Sports,‘ Queanbeyan Age, 25 May 1915; Body, Firm Still You Stand, p. 112. 331

October, 1920. Instead the Great War diverted national attention and resources from building a city to fighting for the British Empire in distant battle fields and maintaining morale at home in the teeth of appalling tragedy and waste of life. The Rector of St John's enlisted as a chaplain to the forces, thus avoiding the terrible responsibility imposed on parish clergy of breaking the news of their bereavement to the families of those killed in action.19 More than sixty parishioners were killed, including two sons of the former rector and forty-two from the RMC. The parish church itself took on a national function for the first time when it was used in September, 1915, for the state funeral of the first Commandant of the RMC and Commander of the First Division AIF, Major General Sir William Throsby Bridges, who died of wounds received at Gallipoli. The Governor General, the Prime Minister, Ministers of the Crown, Members of Parliament, representatives of the Armed Services and the staff and students of the college, with Bridges' relatives, crammed the tiny church for a service conducted by the Archbishop of Sydney assisted by the Bishop of Goulburn. By November, 1918, work on the Federal Capital project had dragged to a standstill. Even before war broke out, however, the capital city project was beset by difficulties. The whole point of building a new city in a jurisdiction of its own rather than using one of the existing state capitals was to preserve the balance of the Federation and avoid the undue influence of any one state. Even so, citizens of the major metropolitan centres were tempted to see every improvement granted to the federal capital as a diminution of their own city. Inter-state rivalry had protracted the process of selecting the site and now delayed construction. The project was further plagued by lack of funds, a hostile press, and personal conflicts among the Director General of Works, the Chief Architect, the Administrator of the Territory and the Federal Capital Director of Design and Construction (). It was not surprising that once momentum was lost, enormous effort was needed to start again.

The First Building Phase, 1924-1929 Few federal politicians are committed to Canberra. Their priority must be to their own constituents of whatever part of Australia they represent; nevertheless, federal Parliament is ultimately responsible for the federal capital. One of the few to take positive action for the city was Stanley Melbourne Bruce, Prime Minister from 1923 to 1929. In July, 1923, his government made the commitment that after its current term expired early in 1926 the next elected Parliament would meet in Canberra. Suddenly the tempo shifted from near stagnation to purposeful haste. St John's parish bought their rector a motor-car. The distances travelled to his scattered flock would be no less but accomplished more quickly than by horse. As the time spent in travelling diminished, however, the number of people to be visited increased. The city was being built at last, and its population would increase fourfold in the next ten years.20 The fourth Bishop of Goulburn, Lewis Bostock Radford, recognised the need for education and seized the opportunity for establishing Anglican schools in

19 Body, Firm Still You Stand, pp. 16-117. 20 ACT population increased from 1,972 persons in 1920 to 8,719 in 1930 (Official Year Books of the Commonwealth of Australia). 332 addition to the state schools in Canberra. He encouraged the Sisters of the Church to start one for girls (St Gabriel's) in 1926; and in January, 1929, transferred the Manaro Grammar School for boys from Cooma, to become Canberra Grammar School. Its first headmaster, the Rev'd William John Edwards, doubled the number of Anglican clergy in the city. These were boarding schools, providing education for the whole diocese, not just Canberra. The Government had its own ideas about the proper place of the churches in the Capital City. It perceived churches as important monumental buildings to be given prominent positions.21 In 1925, the planners nominated a series of five-acre sites and invited six denominations (those with the greatest number of adherents according to the Commonwealth Census, not actually in Canberra but in Australia as a whole) – Church of England, Roman Catholic, Presbyterian, Methodist, Baptist and Congregational – to choose one and build a symbolic national 'cathedral'. Thus the Government showed scant knowledge of or regard for the actual practice and organization of the different churches concerned, or the current situation on the ground.22 The churches working in Canberra considered that service to the people who actually lived there was more important than expensive monuments celebrating the divisions in Christendom and of little practical use. Each denomination took up its site, but the buildings actually constructed served more practical purposes: to provide decent and sheltered meeting places for Christians in the city, for spiritual welfare rather than display. The hierarchies of the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches, whose basic unit of management was the diocese led by a bishop, could see the importance of a cathedral as the headquarters and ceremonial centre of a diocese. They had built cathedrals in each of their Australian dioceses, and were initially very enthusiastic about having a national cathedral in the Capital City. The Anglican archbishops and bishops who visited Canberra to witness the Duke of York's opening Parliament in its new House on 9 May, 1927, dedicated their cathedral site with as much pomp and ceremony as possible in an open paddock on a late autumn day. A large wooden cross was erected near the place where one day the High Altar of the Cathedral might be. The bishops dispersed; Bishop Radford, aided by a committee, held a competition to design a complex on the scale of an English cathedral, including a bishop's palace, chapter house, school and church offices. The winning architect produced a plan for an edifice comparable in style and magnificence to the one the Roman Catholic architects produced, and at an estimated cost of £150,000 no less expensive.23 Large building projects would provide employment for Canberra's construction workers and so would maintain the economic prosperity of Canberra. But who would provide the funding? Launching an appeal, the acting Primate stated that the construction of the new cathedral 'should

21 James S. Udy, Living Stones: The Story of the Methodist Church in Canberra, Sydney, Sacha Books, 1974, pp. 65-69. 22 Tom Campbell examines what the different denominations did with their site in ‗Canberra‘s National ‗Cathedrals‘: Whatever Happened to Them?‘ Canberra Historical Journal, vol. 53, 2004, pp. 28-42. 23 Campbell, ‗Canberra‘s National ‗Cathedrals‘, pp. 37-38. 333 command the attention of all Church of England people in Australia, for the building of a national cathedral was a national obligation.'24 National church buildings should properly be funded by the church nation-wide, not by the people of the district or diocese in which they happened to be situated. The sums required were far too huge for locals to raise – besides, they had more immediate concerns of their own. So, it seemed, had the people of other dioceses, whose bishops were happy to come and say appropriate words of blessing. The bishops also had local concerns: many of them were establishing new congregations and building churches, schools and halls in the rapidly multiplying suburbs of their own cities. So the wooden cross for many years remained the only construction on the Anglican site, and a clergymen's residence was all that was ever erected on the Roman Catholics'.

Depression, War and Stagnation, 1930-1957 The opening of Parliament in 1927 completed the first building phase. Canberra was now the Seat of Government; the transfer of public servants from Melbourne began. Much remained to be done: offices, housing, schools, commercial premises and other social amenities and infrastructure to enable the transfer of all government departments. National institutions also needed buildings, and before too long permanent constructions would replace provisional ones. But even as trainloads of public servants were arriving from Melbourne, many of the workers engaged to complete the first stage in time for the opening of Parliament were being laid off. Within a year, about half of them had gone. Expenditure on the Territory dropped sharply. Prime Minister Bruce lost office in October, 1929, and within six months his successor Scullin abolished the Commission in charge of developing Canberra. As the Great Depression took hold there was no more money for government building works in Canberra, let alone cathedrals. The local congregations had a far more urgent task, to relieve the poverty and distress of workers made redundant by the end of construction and their dependent families,25 and to welcome and befriend the hundreds of newcomers thrown together and isolated in that disconnected, uncompleted building project which was now the Seat of Government, and integrate them into their parish communities.26 No building of any national importance was constructed in Canberra for the next twenty-five years, with the significant exception of the Australian War Memorial whose foundation-stone was laid in September, 1929. A combination of war museum and shrine, its design strongly influenced by the great Byzantine cathedral of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, it was a kind of secular cathedral. It was opened on , 11 November, 1941, when Australia was again at war. Within a month, Japan attacked Pearl Harbour and Australia came under direct threat.

24 Campbell, ‗Canberra‘s National ‗Cathedrals‘, p. 38. 25 Wendy A. Way, ‗Canberra in the Depression Years, 1930-1931‘, MA thesis, Australian National University, 1975, pp. 4-11. 26 Body, Firm Still You Stand, pp. 154-156. 334

The Anglican Church in the Territory was still one parish, although the number of people calling themselves 'Church of England' in the Census had trebled.27 The congregation had far outgrown the capacity of the tiny country church of St John the Baptist. The Rector (from 1929 Canon Charles S. Robertson) now had a full-time assistant in addition to the Headmaster of the Grammar School. The mission hall relieved the pressure and was the base of another congregation, but not yet another parish. As the Depression eased in the later 1930s, parishioners began to raise funds to build a much larger church to replace the tin shed. The Governor General laid the foundation stone on 11 December, 1938, and the fifth Bishop of Goulburn, Ernest Henry Burgmann, dedicated the building as St Paul's, Manuka, on 6 August, 1939 – barely a month before war was declared. Local ministry continued throughout the Second World War as it had done in the First – raising funds and morale, comforting the anxious and the bereaved – while development of the capital city languished. Parliament met in Canberra, and most Commonwealth Departments had at least a base in Canberra, with the significant exception of Defence. The official reason was lack of accommodation. Defence, and consequently the headquarters of the armed forces remained in Melbourne; new departments were created as the war demanded, and the Government rented acres of office space in both Melbourne and Sydney to accommodate them. Incredibly, the wartime Commonwealth Government was located in three cities! As the threat to Australia intensified, the Government became more aware of the importance of the Australian Capital as a focus of national identity. Prime Minister Curtin decided that Cabinet should normally meet in Canberra and thus the war be conducted from the unfinished capital city. The population of Canberra began to rise, and after the war it increased ever more rapidly as government departments expanded, Parliament itself was enlarged, the diplomatic community grew as Australia developed its own relationships with foreign countries, and national institutions multiplied, beginning with the Australian National University in 1946, attracting scientists, scholars and ancillary staff. Shortage of accommodation, both office and housing, became acute as the population expanded at a rate that construction works were never able to match. Relying on their own resources, Canberra's churches coped with growing numbers more successfully than the Departments responsible for Canberra. Recognising the increasing importance of the city, the Anglican Bishop moved from Goulburn to Canberra in 1947, and in 1950 the name of the diocese changed to 'Canberra and Goulburn'.28 Neither change was intended as a snub to the old country town that remained as the cathedral city, but rather recognised a new state of affairs: Canberra, not Goulburn, was becoming the metropolitan centre for south-east NSW. The old forms of rural ministry remained appropriate for the rest of the diocese; Canberra now needed something more urban. The parish of Canberra still remained larger than the Territory, undivided since its separation from the parish of Queanbeyan a hundred

27 It rose from 1,373 in 1921 to 3,785 in 1933. Census of the Commonwealth of Australia, 1933, Summary for the Federal Capital Territory, 5, §8. 28 Cecil A. Warren, A Little Foolishness: An Autobiographical History, Queensland, Church Archivist Press, 1993, p. 185. 335 years earlier. Providing new buildings alone would not meet the challenge of contacting, welcoming and encouraging into the full life of the church the hundreds of Anglican newcomers, many living away from home in hostels and boarding houses. Ten years after their church was built, the congregation of St Paul's, Manuka, had demonstrated their ability to stand alone, and to free their mother church of the responsibility for the south side of the Molonglo. Accordingly, on 26 March, 1950, Bishop Burgmann formally proclaimed them a new parish to take care of that part of the city.29 More subdivisions soon followed as the population continued to grow: two from St John's on the north side and one from St Paul's on the south.

The Second Building Phase, 1958-1988 Meanwhile the Department of the Interior lurched from one makeshift expedient to another, increasingly further away from Griffin's beautiful city design. Legend has it that Dame Pattie Menzies, fed up with pushing her granddaughter and the shopping in the pram a mile or so uphill over rough foot-tracks from the Manuka shops to the Prime Minister's Lodge where her daughter and son-in-law were living because of the housing shortage, put pressure on her husband to 'do something about Canberra'. Certainly Robert Menzies was the Prime Minister who at last put an end to the procrastination, reluctance and small-mindedness that had plagued the building of the capital city from the very beginning.30 Family persuasion was an important factor in Menzies' 'conversion' from a dislike of Canberra that was more than mild to a passionate commitment to completing its establishment as the Capital City of Australia, realising the vision of the City Beautiful and Garden City in its magnificent natural setting, and building a capital in which all Australians might take pride. Other factors also made it possible: Menzies' secure grasp on the leadership of his party, that party's continuity in government with him as Prime Minister for another ten years, and Australia's economic stability and growing prosperity for much of that time. The conditions were right. Acting on the recommendations of a Select Senate Committee, his government scrapped the malfunctioning machinery for the administration and development of Canberra and replaced it with a single authority responsible for developing the city in a manner appropriate to its national importance, and completing as quickly as possible the transfer of remaining departments. In its first seven years the National Capital Development Commission accomplished all these objectives. At last Canberra became the capital city of Australia, not merely in name but on the ground. As the growth-rate sky-rocketed, the NCDC revised the concept of the Garden City to provide comfortably for a city of half a million inhabitants and more. How would the Anglican Church cope with such a dramatic influx of people?31 Working with the NCDC planners, the

29 Body, Firm Still You Stand, pp. 210-211. 30 Roslyn Russell, ‗Henderson, Heather (1928 - ),‘ Australian Women Biographical Entry, http://www.womenaustralia.info/biogs/AWE2095b.htm William Dunk, They also Serve, Canberra, privately published, 1974, p. 76. 31 Cecil Warren outlines the ways they managed in A Little Foolishness, chs. 4 & 5. 336 churches could anticipate the needs of new areas in advance; the NCDC for its part encouraged the churches by leasing them land at minimal cost. Most of the newcomers were young families with children. Clearly they could not be expected to take on at once the expense of building a church and rectory and paying a clergyman's stipend in addition to their own mortgage. One expedient was to meet in a private home or the school hall until they had raised enough money to begin their own building, while the Diocese subsidised the new clergyman for the first year or so. The days of great benefactions were long gone; the new congregations raised funds in the old way of sports days and fêtes to supplement regular personal giving. The sixth Bishop, Kenneth Clements, decided to proceed ecumenically, so that churches could co-operate in their mission to the new suburbs. 'Is it God's will that Anglicans, Methodists, Presbyterians and others should each be striving to erect separate sets of buildings without any sense of broad strategy?' he asked his Synod in 1965.32 Could the denominations not agree on the common use of church buildings and thus at once express a witness to basic given unity and demonstrate a proper sense of stewardship? A committee representing several denominations was appointed to investigate joint or common ownership of land, or the development of adjoining leases, so that a set of buildings could be constructed astride the leasehold boundary and shared. Over the next decade, Christians of different denominations co-operated with a great deal of good will to provide centres for worship and community activities in the new suburbs of the city. The experiment was not without its critics, and new ministers replacing foundation clergy of co-operating parishes, did not always understand the rationale behind the system. Eventually the co- operating congregations reverted to their separate denominations, but the friendships and the local communities remained strong. From the original Anglican parish of St John the Baptist, twenty-one 'ministry units' have now formed.

National and Local The Diocese of Canberra and Goulburn is a relatively small part of the Province of New South Wales within the Anglican Church of Australia, and the Capital City of Australia is only a part of the Diocese. Federation has come slowly to this Church. The provinces are often reluctant to act together as one Anglican Church of Australia, and within provinces there are differences among dioceses. The Metropolitan Diocese of Sydney, for example, has different policies and practices from those of some other dioceses of the Province of New South Wales. Provincial Synods have very little power; the power of General Synod is also limited. It is often difficult for the Anglican Church of Australia to speak with a united voice. The diocese remains the basic unit. Just as local churches have to be convinced to contribute to a central fund, so the individual dioceses seem reluctant to give financial support to any central administration of an Anglican Church of Australia. The Primate must be the bishop (or preferably the archbishop) of a diocese wealthy enough to support an assistant to do some of his diocesan work. Therefore

32 Warren, A Little Foolishness, p. 67. 337 the concept of a national Anglican Cathedral in Canberra, the Seat of the Primate (NOT the archbishop of some province doing it in his spare time but a full-time Primate), with a central administration of the Anglican Church of Australia located in offices around that Cathedral's Close, and General Synod meeting in its Chapter House, is still at best a future hope, not a present reality. When the seventh Bishop of Canberra and Goulburn, Cecil Warren, attempted in 1981 to get General Synod's endorsement of a scheme to build a national Anglican 'Great Church' on the cathedral site in Canberra, he met unexpected and vigorous opposition. 'It quickly became obvious that very few understood Canberra or perceived the need for an Australia-wide strategy for the Church in its mission,' he remembered. He 'could only assume that the whole concept challenged regional loyalties and power structures.' The Anglican Church of Australia was no more ready to build a national centre in Canberra than it had been fifty years earlier when Bishop Radford made his attempt.33 Yet Bishop Burgmann's St Mark's Library, built in 1957 as a national theological centre next to that Cathedral site, has become a centre of a different kind as the Faculty of Theology of Charles Sturt University, attracting both students and more recently a constellation of theological colleges, not all of them Anglican, from many parts of Australia. Perhaps this is the beginning of a new federalism in the Church.

33 Warren, A Little Foolishness, pp. 182-187. 338

List of Contributors

Gail Ball graduated Master of Theology and PhD from the University of Sydney. Since then she has produced and given courses on varying topics, always with some religious component, for the so-called University of the Third Age in different parts of Sydney.

Alan Cadwallader lectures at the Australian Catholic University. His major research interests include the Pauline Letters and other New Testament texts, nineteenth century biblical criticism, critical theory and biblical interpretation and Bishop Brooke Foss Westcott. Recent publications include articles on Brooke Foss Westcott and the Syrophoenician women.

Thomas Campbell researches and publishes on a wide range of subjects, including a book and several articles on Australian Anglican history, Anglican religious communities in Australia, New Zealand and the South Pacific, and late 19th century NSW political history. He currently is working on a history of the Catholic diocese of Armidale NSW for completion in late 2012, the 150th anniversary of its formation.

Gillian Colclough has a PhD in History from James Cook University and now lectures at the University of Southern Queensland. Her interests encompass proverbial literature in seventeenth century England and the effects on the ordinary person of accelerated social, scientific and political change, with an emphasis on events affecting women and children.

Rod Fisher, who founded the Applied History Centre at the University of Queensland, is known for his research, writing and publication on local history and heritage and his earlier research into the Inns of Court in sixteenth-century London. His latest work for the Sesquicentenary is Boosting Brisbane: Imprinting the colonial capital of Queensland.

Ruth Frappell is a Research Fellow at Macquarie University and a past president of the Royal Australian Historical Society. She has been a contributor to the Australian Dictionary of Biography, since 1968 and to the New Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford) and has lectured at Macquarie University and beena research fellow in History at Macquarie University since 1996. She is a member of editorial board of the Journal of Religious History, editor of Anglicans in the Antipodes (Connecticut, 1999) and contributor to Anglicanism in Australia (ed. by Bruce Kaye).

Barbara Harmes lectures in Communication Studies at the University of Southern Queensland. Her primary focus is facilitating international students to access academic discourses. Her doctoral studies were in 19th Century fin de siecle British social mores, especially examining Walter's My Secret Life and the trial of Oscar Wilde. She holds qualifications from both the University of Southern Queensland and the University of New England.

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Marcus Harmes lectures in early modern European history at the University of Queensland and church history at St Francis College. His most recent publications are articles on historiography and English church government in the Journal of the Australian Early Medieval Association and Parergon.

Jennifer Harrison is associated with postgraduate History at The University of Queensland, where she completed doctoral studies in Tudor history. She was Queensland researcher for the Australian Dictionary of Biography for over twenty years. Jennifer has lectured and published widely mainly on convicts and immigrants. Currently she is a member of the Public Records Review Committee of Queensland State Archives and last year edited the Brisbane Anglican Companion.

David Hilliard is an Associate Professor in the Department of History at Flinders University where he taught for many years. He is also an associate editor of the Journal of Religious History. He has published widely on the history of Christian missions in the Pacific Islands, the religious and social history of Australia and the history of Anglicanism.

Jonathan Holland is a graduate of the Universities of Oxford and Queensland and is an Anglican Assistant Bishop in the Diocese of Brisbane. Before 2006 he was a parish priest, serving in the dioceses of Perth, Sydney and for the last 16 years in Brisbane. He is married to Kerry, with three young adult children. In 2007 he was awarded a PhD on the history of the diocese of Brisbane from 1950 to 1970.

Greg Jenks is Academic Dean at St Francis Theological College, Brisbane and an Academic Associate in the School of Theology at Charles Sturt University. His primary discipline is biblical studies and his research interests are focused on studies and Christian origins. He is a Fellow of the Jesus Seminar and a member of the international consortium excavating at Bethsaida in Israel.

Alexander Kidd completed a masters in Anglican Church History at the University of Queensland and in 1995 received his doctorate at the same university. His thesis examined the Brisbane episcopate of St Clair Donaldson. He is currently involved in archival work for the Anglican Church.

Gordon Lilley completed an MA is Asian Studies at the Darling Downs Institute of Advanced Education and from 2004-5 completed an MA in Studies in Religion at UNE. He has worked in the Indigenous Unit at the University of Southern Queensland and in 2007 he began Doctoral Candidature at UNE, on the writings of John Shelby Spong

Craig McBride is a theologian completing a masters degree through Griffith University. He is former a Primary School Teacher and School Principal.

John Mackenzie-Smith is well-known as an historian of Queensland history. He has been active with the Brisbane Historical Group. Among his

340 publications are Brisbane's Forgotten Founder: Sir Evan Mackenzie of Kilcoy 1816-1883 (1992) and Moreton Bay Scots 1841-5, charting the Scottish Presbyterian settlers of Kilcoy.

John A. Moses is former Head of the Department of History at the University of Queensland. He is a graduate of the University of Queensland, and the German Universities of Munich and Erlangen (1961-65). He has published widely on modern German history, colonialism in the Pacific, the historiography of the Great War, Anzac commemoration, the Church Struggle in the Third Reich and in the post war German Democratic Republic. Most recently he published Reluctant Revolutionary: Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Collision with Prusso-German History, 2009. He is currently a Professorial Associate at St Mark's National Theological Centre in Canberra, and is working together with Dr George Davis of Dunedin on a joint project on the history of Anzac commemoration in both Australia and New Zealand.

Ronald Nicolson is retired Professor of Religious Studies at the University of Natal and retired Dean of the Faculty of Humanities. He has written several books, largely on the issue of HIV/AIDS and other ethical issues, and a range of journal articles ranging widely in subject matter.

Sheilagh O‘Brien has just completed her BA (Hons) in History at the University of Queensland. Modern South African cultural history, particularly Afrikaner history, is her primary focus. Other research interests include witchcraft in early modern France, gender in urban London in the Victorian era, and Irish nationalism.

Robert Philp completed a BA at the Capricornia Institute of Advanced Education, an M.Litt at UNE and completed his PhD at Central Queensland University. His research focus has been the history of the Anglican Church in North Queensland. For many years he has been associated with the Diocese of Rockhampton.

Travis Robertson is a postgraduate research student in the School of History, Philosophy, Religion and Classics at the University of Queensland. His current research interests relate to the relationships between texts, religion, the self and emotion in early modern England.

Mavis Rose is well-known as a commentator on Anglican issues and is author of Freedom from sanctified sexism: women transforming the church (1996). She completed her doctorate on Anglican history at the University of Queensland.

Doris le Roy is a PhD student at Victoria University, Melbourne. Her BA (Hons) thesis concentrated on the visit to Australia of the ‗Red‘ Dean of Canterbury, Dr Hewlett Johnson, for the Australian Peace Congress in 1950. As a lifelong member of the Anglican Church, the subject of the Anglican Church and its attitude to Communism has created an interest that has translated into PhD research.

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Barry Shield was educated at the Universities of Queensland, New England and Kent. His research there combined gender-based and sociological explorations of the significance of masculinity in the Australian Church. He has served as a priest in the Diocese of North Queensland from 1984 to 1990 and in the Diocese of Brisbane from 1990 to the present.

Geoffrey Troughton is a lecturer in Religious Studies at Victoria University of Wellington where he teaches courses in religion in New Zealand, and global Christianity. His research focuses on social and religious history in New Zealand, including, currently, a chapter in a forthcoming book on the Anglican Diocese of Auckland.

David Wetherell is Honorary Fellow at the School of History, Heritage and Society at . His major work is Reluctant Mission: The Anglican Church in Papua New Guinea 1891-1942. His edition of The New Guinea Diaries of Philip Strong was published in 1981. Apart from articles in international journals on Christian missions in the South Pacific, Dr Wetherell wrote the biography of an Evangelical missionary Charles Abel and the Kwato Mission of Papua New Guinea 1891-1975 (1996).

Robert Withycombe is a graduate of Sydney, London and Cambridge Universities. He is Senior Fellow at the St Mark‘s National Theological Centre, Canberra, where he has lectured in Church History for the Charles Sturt University‘s School of Theology. He has published numerous books and articles on Australia‘s religious history.

Susan Mary Withycombe graduated with honours in Mediaeval English from the University of Sydney and completed a Master of Arts degree from the University of New South Wales. She has a PhD in History from the Australian National University. She has research interests in Mediaeval Literature and Church History, and in modern Australian local and social History. She has published a number of books, including a history of the parish of St Mark, Darling Point. At present she is writing a history of Canberra for the centenary of the city in 2013, and teaching Mediaeval Church History for Charles Sturt University.

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