Revue Française de Civilisation Britannique French Journal of British Studies

XXII-1 | 2017 The : Studies in Religious Transfer Le Book of Common Prayer: études d'un transfert culturel en religion

Rémy Bethmont and Aude de Mezerac-Zanetti (dir.)

Electronic version URL: http://journals.openedition.org/rfcb/1210 DOI: 10.4000/rfcb.1210 ISSN: 2429-4373

Publisher CRECIB - Centre de recherche et d'études en civilisation britannique

Electronic reference Rémy Bethmont and Aude de Mezerac-Zanetti (dir.), Revue Française de Civilisation Britannique, XXII-1 | 2017, « The Book of Common Prayer : Studies in Religious Transfer » [Online], Online since 15 April 2017, connection on 05 March 2020. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/rfcb/1210 ; DOI : https:// doi.org/10.4000/rfcb.1210

This text was automatically generated on 5 March 2020.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction - Cultural Transfers in Religion: Circulating the Book of Common Prayer in Europe Rémy Bethmont and Aude de Mézerac-Zanetti

The Book of Common Prayer: a Timeline

Constructing the Anglican Liturgical Tradition

The Political Enforcement of Liturgical Continuity in the of England 1558-1662 Claire Cross

A Reappraisal of Liturgical Continuity in the Mid-Sixteenth Century: Henrician Innovations and the First Books of Common Prayer Aude de Mézerac-Zanetti

The Penitential and Services in the Book of Common Prayer, 1549-1662 Charles Whitworth

Promoting Anglican Liturgical Spirituality: Thomas Comber’s Companions to the Book of Common Prayer Rémy Bethmont

The Book of Common Prayer across Denominational and National Borders

The Book of Common Prayer in Methodism: a Cherished Heritage or a Corrupting Influence? Jérôme Grosclaude

Anglican Liturgy as a Model for the Italian Church? The Italian Translation of the Book of Common Prayer by George Frederick Nott in 1831 and its Re-edition in 1850 Stefano Villani

The Influence of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer on the ‘Bersier Liturgy’ and French Protestant Worship Stuart Ludbrook

Anglican Influence on Old Liturgy David R. Holeton and Petr Jan Vinš

The Anglican Contribution to Spanish Liturgical Life: Spanish Translations of the Book of Common Prayer and the liturgy of the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church Don Carlos López-Lozano

In Search of a Liturgical Patrimony: , Gallicanism & Tridentinism Peter M. Doll

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Book Reviews

Compte-rendu de Justin Gest, The New Minority : White Working Class Politics in an Age of Immigration and Inequality, Oxford University Press, 2016. Olivier Esteves

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Introduction - Cultural Transfers in Religion: Circulating the Book of Common Prayer in Europe Introduction – Transferts culturels en religion: la circulation du Book of Common Prayer en Europe

Rémy Bethmont and Aude de Mézerac-Zanetti

And in these our doings, we condemn no other nations, nor prescribe any thing, but to our own people only. For we think it convenient that every country should use such ceremonies, as they shall think best to the setting forth of ’s honour or glory, and to the reducing of the people to a most perfect and godly living, without error or superstition. And that they should put away other things, which from time to time they perceive to be most abused, as in men’s ordinances it often chanceth diversely in diverse countries.1 1 Thus concludes “Of Ceremonies: Why Some be Abolished and Some Retained,” a text justifying liturgical reform at the end of the 1549 Book of Common Prayer, the first version of the English prayer book published under Edward VI, and reproduced in the of every subsequent edition. It is an important reminder of the fact that the Book of Common Prayer was primarily seen as an English document: the first vernacular, national liturgy, breaking with the use of on the one hand and with the medieval custom of liturgical diversity on the other (different dioceses used different rites in medieval England as indeed in the rest of medieval Christendom). , Henry VIII and Edward VI’s and the chief architect of liturgical reform, never foresaw imperial expansion and the development of a worldwide , which have made his liturgies a cherished part of the religious heritage of a great number of Americans, Africans and Asians. The Book of

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Common Prayer has become the object of various cultural transfers; it was translated (and, as autonomous Anglican churches or “provinces” appeared worldwide, increasingly adapted) into a great many vernacular languages, starting with a 16th- century French translation, for use in Calais and the Channel Islands. 2 And yet at the same time, because the Anglican Church grew with the Empire, the sense of the liturgy being primarily English lingered on. To some extent this has had consequences on the nature of scholarly interest for the Book of Common Prayer.

2 Much attention has been paid to the influence of the Prayer Book on English polity, language, culture and society (affecting from all denominations in Britain). 3 The Book of Common Prayer has also attracted studies on its formation and the influence of various strands of European on the development of what came to be seen as a quintessentially English liturgy. 4 In our postcolonial age, in which churches have increasingly repented of centuries of Eurocentrism, the question of liturgical inculturation in different provinces of the Anglican Communion has given rise to various studies, 5 testifying to the recognition that Anglican liturgy and the Anglican Communion generally in the postcolonial world cannot be defined by its Englishness. However little attention has been devoted to the attraction that the specificities of liturgical practice in Anglican churches has constituted for religious groups beyond Anglicanism, both in and beyond the English-speaking world. 6 3 This issue seeks to explore how elements of Anglican worship were transferred to other languages, countries and denominations, thus giving the lie to the idea that the Book of Common Prayer was just an ad-hoc national liturgy. Discussing these attempts at inculturation as cultural transfers invites one to focus on how “things become grafted from one cultural body to another” and how the original intention of 16th-century authors for the English liturgy was altered in the event of such cultural transplantations.7 In a new confessional and cultural context the Book of Common Prayer or the parts that were transferred almost always take on new meanings.8 The theory of cultural transfers has been applied to a diversity of fields: intellectual history, literature, material culture, technical knowledge, science and the arts but could also very well apply to the movement of religious ideas, including to the circulation of liturgical practices.9 This issue focuses on religious transfers from England to continental Europe and hopes to invite further research on the mobility of religious beliefs and devotional practices. 4 Today there are four Anglican jurisdictions in Europe (the Diocese in Europe, the Convocation of Episcopal Churches in Europe of the American-based Episcopal Church and the small indigenous Anglican churches of Spain and Portugal). This contributes to making Anglican liturgy known on the Continent. The Diocese in Europe and the Convocation of Episcopal Churches have both engaged in a work of translation to make , today’s official, contemporary Church of England liturgy alongside the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, or the American Book of Common Prayer of 1979 available in other languages than English in their congregations on the Continent.10 Anglican presence in continental Europe has also given rise to some significant interest by ecumenical partners. The French branch of the Anglican Roman- Catholic International Dialogue has recently published a document recommending ways for the two churches in France to celebrate morning and evening prayer together, using one another’s liturgies.11 There is growing interest among French Catholics for Anglican liturgical patrimony.

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5 But continental interest in Anglican liturgy in a number of cases seems to have started independently from this Anglican presence. Various denominations with no historical links to the Church of England have even used Anglican liturgy as a resource for worship in their own context and in languages other than English. In the case of the French Reformed Church, Anglican influence in the 19th century was the source of lasting changes in worship. 6 Anglican liturgy is known and loved far beyond its natural linguistic and cultural borders, even though initially it claimed little else than being the expression of a decidedly English settlement with no pretension to cross-cultural influence. Indeed 16th-century liturgical debates centred on how much one should import from, not export to the Continent. The liturgies of the French or Swiss Reformed churches were the models to look up to for the “godly,” as the Puritans called themselves. The links that the English liturgy continued to entertain with the medieval past made its Protestant credentials suspicious to many Protestants in England. The irony however is that since the 19th century, especially, it is precisely these links, along with a lively liturgical spirituality, that have made the Book of Common Prayer attractive to both Protestants and Catholics on the Continent. 7 This issue seeks to underline that the role played by Anglican liturgy in the Christian West has been more diverse than is usually acknowledged. The double reference to the and to an earlier tradition has made Anglican liturgy an important contributor to the liturgical experiments of several denominations in various European countries. The liturgical half-way house the Prayer Book represented infuriated the Puritans in the 16th and 17th century and led to entrenched, permanent divisions within English Protestantism after the Restoration. But today — this is ironic — the Anglican liturgical tradition the Prayer Book has brought forth is particularly well- suited to help recover the common liturgical patrimony of the West and repair to some extent the divisions caused by the process of confessionalisation.12 This obviously would not be the case without the contemporary context of ecumenism and interdenominational cooperation, strengthened as they have been by the , which has sought to renew worship in the churches of the West.13 But Anglican liturgy has some genuine ecumenical appeal which is inseparable from its being steeped in a liturgical spirituality whose form is quite unique among churches who claim a Reformation heritage and which was shaped by centuries of daily use of the Book of Common Prayer by ordinary Anglicans. 8 However significant 16th- and 17th-century criticism of the Prayer Book may have been, its rites nurtured the spiritual lives of generations of English people. Conformity to and acceptance of the Book of Common Prayer in England has become the focus of significant attention in the last decades, correcting the earlier emphasis on non- conformity and Puritanism. Judith Maltby placed the “committed conformists”, “the Prayer Book Protestants” squarely at the heart of her study of the Book of Common Prayer. Mark Goldie encouraged scholars to focus on “voluntary Anglicans”.14 And Christopher Haigh’s characterization of the bulk of church-goers as “parish Anglicans” has done much to rehabilitate the Prayer Book as a source of religious unity and harmony.15 Provided some elasticity, the notion of conformity could even be extended to include church papists.16 9 As Jeremy Gregory points out, “studies of lay religion in [the sixteenth and seventeenth] centuries have moved on from earlier interpretations which saw the

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reacting either antagonistically or indifferently to the offerings of the church, and finding solace in a lay-led Puritanism or in folk religion, to an appreciation of what Martin Ingram has called the ‘unspectacular orthodoxy’ of the majority of parishioners and in this attention has been given to the ways in which Prayer Book services resonated in their hearts and minds”. Gregory suggests that something similar might be said about the 18th century. 17 It may well be this resonance in ordinary people’s hearts and minds which has commended the Book of Common Prayer and more broadly Anglican liturgical tradition to Christians outside the Anglican fold on both sides of the Protestant-Catholic divide. 10 The readiness the Anglican Communion has displayed since the 1980s in making a distinction between Anglican liturgical patrimony and the particular textual form and performance of the English Book of Common Prayer has reinforced the sense of an Anglican liturgical spirituality whose integrity is not inextricably tied to the Cranmerian heritage. Even though some amount of liturgical inculturation had already taken place in several Anglican churches,18 it was thanks to the 1988 and the subsequent work of the International Anglican Liturgical Consultations (IALC) that the question of developing liturgies for other cultural contexts within the Anglican Communion was made explicitly part of its liturgical agenda.19 11 Whereas the questions that inculturation raise for the denominational identity of Anglicanism has ensured scholarly attention to the process of liturgical translation, adaptation and creation within the Anglican Communion, little consideration has been given to the same process in those churches that borrow from the Anglican tradition. The interdenominational cross-fertilizing that the ecumenical movement has made possible has produced modern liturgies throughout Western Christianity that have a family resemblance. But the question of why some denominations would look up to Anglican resources specifically, not only in this ecumenical age but also in earlier times, is left largely unexplored. Anglican liturgy has helped redraw the confessional boundaries that were rigidly established on the Continent in the 16th and 17th centuries between Protestant and Catholic forms of worship. The essays in this issue suggest that this has turned Anglican liturgy into an important resource thanks to which Protestants and Catholics alike may safely think through the meaning of their denominational identity within their own cultural context. Are they called, as denominations, to reclaim a forgotten part of their liturgical heritage for missionary purposes in their national contexts? Are they called to broaden and deepen the liturgical expression of their denominational identity for purposes of spiritual renewal? Are they called to celebrate their catholicity in a way that does not blur denominational borders with Roman Catholicism? Anglican liturgy is a valued contributor in the attempts of mainline denominations in the West to create liturgies that are suited to their time and place, while being true to the riches of the liturgical patrimony of the West. 12 The first four contributions focus on how the Book of Common Prayer became a prominent marker of Anglican spirituality and identity in the course of the 16th and 17th centuries. Liturgical experiments were led in constructive dialogue with England’s liturgical past and combined with politics to fashion a liturgy that came to be seen as incomparable at the Restoration. The failure to revise this prayer book — still essentially a mid-sixteenth century text — in the following centuries made it possible

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for the Book of Common Prayer to become the stable anchor of a spirituality whose expression was unique in the confessional landscape of the West. 13 In an overview of the 16th and 17th centuries, the first paper by Claire Cross sketches the history of opposition to the Book of Common Prayer from Edward VI’s reign to 1662. Maintaining uniform liturgical practices in a church which gathered Protestants of varied hues proved increasingly difficult over the period as the godly sought to purify the Prayer Book of its “popish” and “superstitious” overtones. Questions of uniformity, obedience and submission trumped calls for further liturgical reform or experimentation in preaching the . The political enforcement of loyalty included repression against religious dissidents throughout the religious turbulences of the 17th century. The content of the Book of Common Prayer was a highly political matter; hence the proclivities of the successive sovereigns and their reactions to demands for further reform did much to shape the liturgical patrimony of the Anglican Church. 14 However, something more than politics was also at play. The history of liturgical revisions in 16th- and 17th-century England provides evidence that liturgical reformers paid considerable attention to their own liturgical practice and sought some experiential continuum. This continuum was all the easier to experience because liturgical reforms in England were an experiment in incremental change. This was the case not only between the first and the second Book of Common Prayer20 but from the Henrician liturgy to the 1549 Prayer Book. Henrician liturgical innovations provided the basis for a certain degree of continuity between medieval liturgical performance and the Edwardian prayer books. This is the focus of the second article by Aude de Mezerac-Zanetti. Thomas Cranmer’s use of multiple sources of inspiration in his crafting of the first Books of Common Prayer is well-known but there is also a more immediate wellspring for the English liturgies: the newly created practices of the 1530s and 1540s when Henry VIII sought to harness the liturgy to promote the break with Rome and the royal supremacy. These changes became deeply ingrained in the worship habits of the clergy and were embedded into some sections of the Book of Common Prayer. Conversely those Henrician developments which did not make it into the new liturgy illuminate the particularities of both the Henrician and Edwardian . 15 By shifting the scholarly focus from emphasizing change to seeking continuity, this contribution addresses one of the enduring historiographical questions relating to the : why is it that a radical and wholesale liturgical reform was readily accepted by the people in 1549? Actually, the change appears less radical than previously thought if one examines how Henry VIII’s regime refashioned prayers to promote its policies. Thus by the mid-1540s, the English church’s liturgy was no longer seen as the immutable public prayer of the universal church but as a text which could be reformed at will by the government and which was increasingly being challenged by reform-minded clergy and parishioners. 16 Incremental change also made it possible to keep some sense of continuity in the aesthetic experience of the liturgy. The beauty of holiness of the Laudians is a well- known 17th-century example of reintroducing those elements of medieval ceremony that the Book of Common Prayer either allowed or did not explicitly rule out. Laudians thus created an aesthetic liturgical experience that brought them closer to the medieval past.21 Less dramatic because far less controversial was the use of psalms. Charles Whitworth’s paper also illustrates how liturgical practices were transferred

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back and forth in time, resulting eventually in the (quasi) restoration of the status quo ante. It charts the liturgical and devotional use of the penitential psalms (Ps. 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, and 143) from the late medieval Sarum liturgy to the Ash Wednesday commination in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer. These psalms continually generated numerous commentaries in the vernacular by clergy and laity from the late medieval period to the seventeenth century. They were translated, put to music and used by congregations whose enthusiasm for metrical singing prompted the publication of set to music. Hence, these texts were deeply embedded in the devotional fabric of early modern Catholic and Protestant piety alike and some aspects of their liturgical use in the medieval Ash Wednesday service survived in successive versions of the Book of Common Prayer. This exercise in liturgical archaeology illustrates the power of devotional traditions and habits: evolution through accretion and sedimentation in the use of the penitential psalms from one edition of the Prayer Book to the next eventually led the Church of England back to a form of Lenten liturgy that was closer to medieval usage in 1662 than it had been in the days of the Edwardian Reformation. 17 Appreciation of and respect for a continuum of liturgical practice gave the Book of Common Prayer a status in the Church of England which politics alone could not explain. Attachment to the Prayer Book gave rise to a peculiarly Anglican brand of spirituality in which a single liturgical text became the basis for a devotional experience fusing private and public prayer. This can be strikingly seen in Thomas Comber’s commentaries on the prayer book, on which Rémy Bethmont’s article centres. Published in the last third of the 17th century, Comber’s Companions to the Book of Common Prayer had a novel dimension. Prior to Comber, Prayer Book commentaries were essentially attempts to defend the liturgy against its critics. While this desire is still visible in Comber, there is also a strong devotional streak which is quite novel. Reconciling several strands of conformist tradition, Comber seeks to help clergy and laity alike to use the Book of Common Prayer as a school of devotion: the words of the liturgy become the outward, audible form of the prayer of the heart, both at home and in church. Comber’s thorough commentaries and prayerful paraphrase of the entire liturgy contributed to the spread of a form of liturgical spirituality, whereby every Anglican's devotional life, both personal and communal, was grounded on two inseparable books: the and the Book of Common Prayer. 18 The importance of the Prayer Book in Anglican spirituality should be remembered when accounting for Anglican attempts to export it, not only as part of missionary endeavours in the Empire but also in dealing with other churches on the European continent. Whereas political reasons were undoubtedly paramount, what comes through (sometimes quite rightly) as Anglican arrogance in trying to make others adopt their liturgy also combined with the sincere, though naive, conviction that the Book of Common Prayer was truly the best path to prayer that was compatible with Protestant principles. The following contributions examine several case studies of such cultural transfers through translations, deliberate adaptations and concealed borrowings. The case of Anglican dealings with Italian Christians, which Stefano Villani examines, is a case in point. 19 A significant number of Italian translations of the Book of Common Prayer were made in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. They served purposes that often had little to do with worship, including providing a convenient way for English people to learn Italian. But some were part and parcel of grand plans to undermine the Pope’s influence in

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Italy and promote a Protestant church whose catholicity would appeal to the Italian temperament and culture, in other words a church established on the same principles as the Church of England. In the early 17th century, the first Italian translation of the Prayer Book was part of a strategy seeking to convince Venice that the Anglican Church provided an alternative model to the Church of Rome that Venetians might adopt at a time when Venice was in conflict with the papacy. In the 19th century, a number of Anglicans vainly engaged in attempts to convince the Waldensian Church to become the instrument of the conversion of Italy to Protestantism by encouraging them to adopt episcopacy and the Book of Common Prayer. The story of these Italian translations of the Book of Common Prayer is the story of English illusions about the possibility of exporting the Prayer Book, stock and barrel, to a completely different ecclesiastical setting with its own culture and traditions. 20 In its desire to inculturate liturgies, contemporary Anglicanism has moved a long way away from such attempts. As we have said, the Anglican Communion provides several examples of how Anglican liturgies have recently attempted to fuse with local cultures and traditions. But Anglicans are not the only ones who have sought to adapt Anglican liturgy to local ecclesiastical or cultural needs. Other churches provide fascinating examples of how the Anglican liturgical heritage has served all kinds of Christians in finding uplifting forms of worship that are suited to their own ecclesiastical context while connecting them to a rich and diverse liturgical patrimony. Far from being seen as a problem, the elements of continuity between the Book of Common Prayer and medieval liturgical usage have contributed to the attractiveness of the Prayer Book. Borrowing from the Anglican liturgy, or even considering the possibility of doing so, has been the occasion of questioning, deepening or celebrating one’s denominational identity. 21 The Methodist case, studied by Jérôme Grosclaude, is interesting given the Anglican roots of the movement. The question of the place and role of the Anglican liturgical heritage in the movement was controversial and reflected the need which Methodists felt, to a varying degree, of claiming their own separate identity. Even though they separated from the Church of England in the 1790s, Wesleyan Methodists, the majority group, followed John Wesley’s instructions and practice by making it compulsory to use the Book of Common Prayer, while allowing at the same time for impromptu prayers, also dear to their founder’s heart. Non-Wesleyans, on the contrary, were eager to distinguish themselves from the detested Church of England and did not use any set liturgy for most of the 19th century. Consequently their services were generally improvised. 22 From the 1860s however the British Methodist churches started to adopt their own set prayers. While Wesleyans moved away from the Book of Common Prayer (though retaining many Anglican elements), Non-Wesleyans started to adopt set — though not compulsory — liturgies. This objectively brought the two Methodist traditions a little closer to each other liturgically and paved the way for the adoption of a new common service book in 1936, four years after most Methodist churches united to form the Methodist Church of Great Britain. The 1936 Book of Offices contained different types of liturgies to satisfy all brands of Methodists, but it thus turned forms of worship indebted to the Anglican tradition into resources for Non-Wesleyans. The two subsequent service books of 1975 and 1999 betray the influence of the Liturgical Movement while keeping the diverse liturgical traditions of Methodists. As the need to

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affirm and bolster Methodist denominational identity has receded, Anglican liturgy can be claimed as a valued heritage. 23 A little further away from the Anglican fold, the often-unacknowledged dialogue with Anglican liturgy in French , examined by Stuart Ludbrook, provides another case-study of the influence of Anglican liturgy in a context in which issues of local ecclesiastical identity were important. French Reformed minister Eugène Bersier’s liturgy, which he composed for his congregation at the Temple de l’Etoile in Paris in 1874-76, is an example of extensive borrowing from Anglican liturgical tradition. Although this liturgy was only ever used by Bersier’s congregation, its influence on the French Reformed Church was far-ranging because it constituted the basis of a proposal for liturgical reform that Bersier drafted at the request of the French Reformed synod in 1888 and which led to considerable change in French Reformed worship. The Bersier liturgy is not a case of merely adopting the Anglican liturgy as it was. The liturgical text of the Bersier liturgy owes much to the Book of Common Prayer, and the architecture, decoration and music of his Paris church were influenced by Anglican cathedral worship. But Bersier adapted the Book of Common Prayer to French Reformed sensibilities and even downplayed Anglican influence as he responded to criticisms of ritualism and servile imitation of the Anglican party. Even though Bersier’s influence on French Reformed worship was lasting, the resulting, greater proximity of the latter with Anglican worship was rarely acknowledged, an example of an unobtrusive cultural transfer. 24 The question of local ecclesiastical identity has taken a very different turn in the case of the extensive borrowing from Anglican liturgies by Old Catholics22 in their recent liturgical revisions. This is the object of the article by David Holeton and Petr Jan Vinš. Old Catholics have leaned on full communion ties with Anglican churches to create forms of worship which, although decidedly Catholic, are just as decidedly non-Roman, thus strengthening the sense of Old Catholic identity. Full communion, established by the Agreement of 1931, although slow in making an impact on the life of the two denominations, provided a favourable context for extended liturgical consultations from the 1980s, resulting in Old Catholic use of Anglican liturgical resources in drafting new liturgies. The 1995 Book of the Old in , in particular, owes much to the 1985 Canadian Book of Alternative Services, which had itself borrowed heavily from the 1979 revision of the Book of Common Prayer by the Episcopal Church. What is at play here is less the influence of the traditional Cranmerian heritage than the use of modern Anglican liturgical texts which are themselves the product of the ecumenical Liturgical Movement. But the reason why German Old Catholics turned to Anglican resources in the first place was determined by their perception of the Anglican liturgical tradition as Catholic but devoid of Roman Catholic theological idiosyncrasies, which the Old Catholics had repudiated. 25 Although modern Anglican worship is the product of ecumenical liturgical research and has in some cases retained little from Cranmer’s texts, it is because Anglican liturgical spirituality has the potential to be seen, experienced and affirmed as both Catholic and Reformed that Anglican liturgy continues to play a significant role in the liturgical reforms of various churches in the West. Anglican liturgy provides a door to worship traditions that are not otherwise easily accessible. The contribution of the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church, the small Spanish branch of the Anglican Communion, provides a striking illustration and is examined by Carlos Lopez-

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Lozano. The Anglican Church in Spain has resurrected the Mozarabic rite for contemporary worship in its prayer book. It thereby seeks to provide Christians in Spain with a door to their own indigenous liturgical heritage, which has virtually been forgotten in Spanish Roman Catholic practice. The Spanish, national identity of Anglicans in Spain is thus affirmed and celebrated. 26 The last paper, by Peter Doll, examines the mutual influences of Roman Catholic and Anglican liturgical performance and highlights the fact that even with the impact of the Liturgical Movement and its focus on the worship of the Early Church, historical liturgical traditions of the Christian West remain important. From the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, the Church of England was particularly conscious of close affinities with the Gallican, nationalist tradition in the French church, but at either end of this period the Tridentine baroque would also prove seductively fascinating to many Anglicans. The tension between the ‘Gallican’ and ‘Tridentine’ tendencies within Anglican high , epitomised in the early twentieth century by the ‘British Museum religion’ of Percy Dearmer’s Parson’s Handbook and the Roman tendencies of the Society of SS. Peter & Paul, remains alive to this day. In the nineteenth century, influential Anglican converts to the Church of Rome (A.W.N. Pugin, , Henry Edward Manning, Edmund Bishop) brought with them their contrasting convictions about the appropriate architectural setting for the liturgy. Pugin, firmly committed to liturgical Gallicanism, advocated medieval music, architecture and Sarum ceremonial, while Newman and his fellow Oratorians insisted on an ultramontane liturgy and architecture. The latter won the day in the Roman Catholic Church and Pugin was left isolated: his dream of a gothic revival was now best carried out by the Anglican Church he had left for Rome. The Liturgical Movement has brought Anglican and Roman Catholic worship very close together but the two communions still feel the need to deal with the heritage of Tridentinism and Gallicanism. 27 Anglican liturgy has had a remarkable ability to claim a diverse heritage and accommodate continuity in the midst of reforms, today as much as in the 16th century. This ability has enhanced its potential to be grafted with some measure of success onto the liturgies of denominations seeking to rejuvenate their spiritual tradition. Because Anglican liturgy is often a mirror in which various denominations may contemplate how their own identity may be expressed liturgically, religious transfers involving the Book of Common Prayer and more generally Anglican worship tradition have a rich history and remain a feature of European Christianity. 28 The variously successful transfers of elements of Anglican liturgy from one cultural and religious sphere to another as well as Anglican openness to other liturgical traditions suggest that it would be a mistake to overemphasize, as has sometimes been done, the insularity of Anglicanism. For all its specificities and its reluctance to be labelled, as a denomination, according to the broad confessional categories of Protestantism and Catholicism, Anglicanism has been a prominent actor and partner in European ecclesiastical history, contributing to shaping Christian churches far beyond the borders of England and its Empire. Ce numéro de la Revue française de civilisation britannique a été mis en forme utilisant le logiciel LODEL, par John Mullen.

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NOTES

1. The Book of Common Prayer: The texts of 1549, 1559 and 1662, ed. Brian Cummings (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 216. 2. One should specify that a Latin translation came first, right after the publication of the 1549 Prayer Book (Ordinatio ecclesiae seu ministerii ecclesiastici, in florentissimo Regno Angliae, conscripta sermone patrio, & in Latinam linguam bona fide conuersa & ad consolationem ecclesiarum Christi, ubicunque locorum ac genitium, his tristissimis [sum]ptoribus, edita, ab Alexandro Alesio Scoto sacrae theologiae doctore [London, 1551]). The first extant French translation is of the second Prayer Book, Le liure des priers communes, de l'administration des Sacremens & autres ceremonies en l'Eglise d'Angleterre. Traduit en Francoys par Francoys Philippe, seruiteur de Monsieur le grand Chancelier d'Angleterre, London : Thomas Gaultier, 1553. (Diarmaid MacCulloch, Cranmer [London/New Haven: Yale Univeristy Press, 1996], 525). See also the classic work on prayer book translations by William Muss-Arnolt, The Book of Common Prayer among the Nations of the World (London: SPCK, 1914); David N. Griffiths, “The French Translations of the English Book of Common Prayer”, Proceedings of the Huguenot Society of London, 22 (1972): 90-114. See the classic work on prayer book translations by William Muss-Arnolt, The Book of Common Prayer among the Nations of the World (London: SPCK, 1914); see also David N. Griffiths, “The French Translations of the English Book of Common Prayer”, Proceedings of the Huguenot Society of London 22 (1972): 90-114. 3. Judith Maltby, Prayer Book and People in Elizabethan and Stuart England (: CUP, 2000) ; Timothy Rosendal, Liturgy and Literature in the Making of Protestant England (Cambridge : CUP, 2007); Daniel Swift, Shakespeare's common prayers: the Book of Common Prayer and the Elizabethan Age (New York/Oxford : OUP, 2013) ; Christopher Marsh, “‘Common Prayer’ in England 1560-1640: The View from the Pew”, Past and Present 171 (May 2001): 66-94 ; Jeremy Gregory, ‘For all sorts and conditions of men’: the social life of the Book of Common Prayer during the long eighteenth century”, Social History 34.1 (2009): 29-54. 4. Francis Procter and Walter Howard Frere, A New History of the Book of Common Prayer, with a Rationale of its offices (London: Macmillan, 1902), esp. 68-90 for the influence of foreign divines ; F.E. Brightman, The English Rite, Being a Synopsis of the Sources and Revisions of the Book of Common Prayer (London: Rivingtons, 1915), 2 vols.; Geoffrey Cuming, The Godly Order, Texts and Studies Relating to the Book of Common Prayer, Alcuin Club Collection 65 (London : SPCK, 1983), 1-122. There are several relevant articles in Paul Ayris and David Selwyn, Thomas Cranmer, Churchman and Scholar (Woodbridget: Boydell & Brewer, 1999), especially Bryan D. Spinks, “Treasures Old and New: A Look at Some of Thomas Cranmer’s Methods of Liturgical Compilation”, 175-188; Kenneth W. Stevenson “Cranmer’s Marriage Vow: Its place in the Tradition”, 189-198 and Basil Hall, “Cranmer, the and the Foreign Divines in the Reign of Edward VI”, 217-258. 5. See Phillip Tovey, Inculturation of Christian Worship: Exploring the Eucharist (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004); Paul M. Collins, Christian Inculturation in India (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007); Stephen Burns and Anita Monro, Christian Worship in Australia: Inculturating the Liturgical Tradition (Strathfield, New South Wales: St Pauls Publications, 2009); Graham Kings and Geoff Morgan, Offerings from Kenya to Anglicanism: Liturgical Texts and Contexts including “A Kenyan Service of Holy Communion”, Joint Liturgical Studies 50 (Cambridge: Grove Books, 2001); and part five of The Oxford Guide to the Book of Common Prayer: A Worldwide Survey, ed. Charles Hefling and Cynthia Shattuck (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), devoted to the modern prayer books of the Anglican Communion. For recent Anglican liturgical texts, see Colin Buchanan, Anglican Eucharistic Liturgies: 1985 – 2010 (: Canterbury Press, 2011). 6. Beyond the numerous studies that deal with ecumenical cooperation and cross-fertilising within the liturgical and ecumenical movements of the 20th and 21st centuries, little has been

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done on the attraction of Anglican worship and its specificities in other denominations. There are studies of Methodist liturgy which deal with its ties with the Book of Common Prayer (see A. Raymond George, “From The Sunday Service to ‘The Sunday Service’: Sunday Morning Worship in British Methodism”, Karen B. Westerfield Tucker, ed., The Sunday Service of the Methodists: Twentieth-Century Worship in Worldwide Methodism [Nashville: Abingdon/Kingswood, 1996]; and Karen B. Westerfield Tucker, American Methodist Worship [Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2001]). The section on the Prayer Book and other traditions in The Oxford Guide to the Book of Common Prayer (op. cit., 209-228) has short pieces on the revision of the Book of Common Prayer for use in the Unitarian King’s Chapel in Boston (by Carl Scovel) and on the use of prayer book language in English-speaking Lutheranism in North America (by Philip H. Pfatteicher, the author of the standard Commentary on the Lutheran Book of Worship: Lutheran Liturgy in its Ecumenical Context [Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Press, 1990]), on top of a short essay on the liturgy of continuing Anglican churches (by Lesley A. Northup). Beyond this one has to look at dispersed studies about different denominations, like Thaddeus A. Schnitker, “Eucharist and Catholicity. The influence of The Book of Alternative Services on the New Altar Book of the in Germany”, Liturgy Canada V.3 (Michaelmas, 1996): 4-6, or Stuart Ludbrook’s doctoral thesis, La liturgie de Bersier et le culte réformé en France: ritualisme et renouveau liturgique (Lille: Septentrion, 2001). 7. Manuela Rossini and Michael Toggweiler, "Cultural Transfer: an Introduction", Word and Text: A Journal of Literary Studies and Linguistics vol. IV n° 2 (December 2014) : 8. 8. The theory of cultural transfers was crafted in the 1990s in the context of the study of the influence of French culture in Germany and the emergence of a German national identity. At heart, this concept is an invitation to examine how cultural transfers change the object that is transplanted (objects, persons, texts, ideas, concepts) and the host culture; see Michel Espagne and Michael Werner, Transferts. Les Relations Interculturelles dans l’espace franco-allemand (XVIIIè- XIXè siècles) (Paris: Editions Recherches sur les civilisations, 1988). For a theoretical examination of the concept see, for instance, Béatrice Joyeux, "Les transferts culturels: Un discours de la méthode", Hypothèses no. 1 (2003), and more recently, Michel Espagne, who has revisited the concept, in Revue Sciences/Lettres no. 1 (2013) : “Tout passage d’un objet culturel d’un contexte dans un autre a pour conséquence une transformation de son sens, une dynamique de resémantisation, qu’on ne peut pleinement reconnaître qu’en tenant compte des vecteurs historiques du passage. On peut donc dire d’emblée que la recherche sur les transferts culturels concerne la plupart des sciences humaines même si elle s’est développée à partir d’un certain nombre de points d’ancrage précis. Transférer, ce n’est pas transporter mais plutôt métamorphoser, et le terme ne se réduit en aucun cas à la question mal circonscrite et très banale des échanges culturels, C’est moins la circulation des biens culturels que leur réinterprétation qui est en jeu”. 9. To name but a few recent works on cultural transfers : Michel Espagne, Svetlana Gorshenina, Frantz Grenet, Shahin Mustafayev and Claude Rapin, eds., Asie centrale : transferts culturels le long de la route de la soie (Paris: Vendémiaire, 2016); Stefanie Stockhorst, ed., Cultural Transfer through Translation: The Circulation of Enlightened Thought in Europe by Means of Translation (Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2010); Lise Andries, Frédéric Ogée, John Dunkley and Darach Sanfey, eds., Intellectual Journeys: The Translation of Ideas in Enlightenment England, France and Ireland (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 2013); Ann Thomson, Simon Burrows and Edmond Dziembowski, eds., Cultural Transfers: France and Britain in the Long Eighteenth Century (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 2010); Stephen Greenblatt, Ines Županov, Reinhard Meyer-Kalkus, Heike Paul, Pál Nyíri, and Friederike Pannewick, eds., Cultural Mobility: A Manifesto (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009). Christophe Charle, Julien Vincent and Jay Winter, eds., Anglo-French Attitudes, Comparisons and Transfers between English and French Intellectuals since the Eighteenth Century (Manchester/New York: Manchester University Press, 2007); Jean-Philippe Genet, and François-Joseph Ruggiu, eds.,

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Les idées passent-elles la Manche? Savoirs, Représentations et Pratiques (France-Angleterre, X-XXè siècles) (Paris : PUPS, 2007). 10. See Jeffrey Rowthorn, “Anglican Churches in Europe”, The Oxford Guide to the Book of Common Prayer, op. cit., 438-442. 11. “Pour une prière commune aux anglicans et aux catholiques : « Seigneur, ouvre nos lèvres”, Documents Episcopat n° 4 (avril 2015). 12. The process by which different territories adopted a specific religious identity to the exclusion of competing others (cujus regio, ejus religio). This religious identity shaped politics, society and state building in that territory. The confessionalization thesis was first developed by early modern German historians Heinz Schilling and Wolfgang Reinhard with reference to the Holy Roman Empire. See in particular, Heinz Schilling Religion, Political Culture and the Emergence of Early Modern Society (Leiden: Brill, 1992); Wolfgang Reinhardt,“Reformation, Counter-Reformation and the Early Modern State: a Reassessment‟, Catholic Historical Review vol. 75 no. 3 (July 1989): 385-403. Innumerable studies have explored and exploited the concept but for recent discussions and debates on its continued influence and relevance, see the forum discussion with Marc Forster, Bruce Gordon, Joel Harrington, Thomas Kaufmann, Ute Lotz-Heumann in “Religious History beyond Confessionalization”, German History vol. 32 no. 4 (Dec 2014) : 579-598; Peter Marshall, “Confessionalization, Confessionalism and Confusion in the English Reformation”, Thomas Mayer, ed., Reforming the Reformation (Farnham: Routledge, 2012), 43-64; and Naïma Ghermani, “” in Dictionnaire des concepts nomades en Sciences Humaines, ed. Olivier Christin, vol. 1 (Paris: Editions Métailié, 2010), 117-132. 13. As David Holeton points out “Anglicans, like Christians in general, are increasingly exposed to one another’s celebrations through both attendance and the television media. When they visit or watch the liturgical celebrations of other churches (particularly Baptism and Eucharist), there is a feeling of ‘being at home.’” (David Holeton, “Anglican Liturgical Renewal, Eschatological Hope and Christian Unity”, James F. Puglisi, Liturgical Renewal as a Way to Christian Unity [Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2005],18). For a history of the Liturgical Movement, see John Fenwick and Bryan Spinks, Worship in Transition: The Liturgical Movement in the Twentieth Century (New York: Continuum, 1995). 14. Judith Maltby, Prayer Book and People, op.cit.; Mark Goldie, “Voluntary Anglicans”, The Historical Journal vol. 46 n° 4 (2003): 977-990. See also Margaret Spufford, “Can we Count the Godly and the Conformable in the Seventeenth Century?”, The Journal of Ecclesiastical History vol. 36 n°3 (1985): 428-38 and Keith Wrightson, English Society, 1580-1680 (London: Hutchinson, 1982), 213. 15. Christopher Haigh, “The Church of England, Catholics and the People”, The Reign of , ed. Christopher Haigh (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1984), 195-220. 16. See Alexandra Walsham, Church Papists: Catholicism, Conformity and Confessional Polemic in Early Modern England (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1993). 17. Jeremy Gregory, op.cit., 31. 18. Anglican liturgies in Spanish produced as early as the 19th century are a case in point (see Don Carlos Lopez-Lozano’s paper in this volume). 19. See David Holeton, Liturgical Inculturation in the Anglican Communion: Including the York Statement "Down to Earth Worship", Joint Liturgical Studies 15 (Nottingham: Grove Books, 1990). The York Statement was the fruit of the 1989 IALC meeting and furthered the reflexion on inculturation that Lambeth had commended. A number of principles were set down to reconcile the integrity of Anglican tradition on the one hand and the necessary taking into account of cultural diversity. A meeting of African liturgists at Kanamai in 1993, under the leadership of the Archbishop of Kenya, David Gitari, can be seen as following up on the York Statement. The meeting more specifically addressed the issue of inculturation in the African context and came up with guidelines for liturgical inculturation. See David Gitari, ed. Anglican Liturgical Inculturation in Africa: The Kanamai Statement ‘African Culture and Anglican Liturgy’, Joint Liturgical Studies 28

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(Nottingham: Grove Books, 1994). Colin Buchanan gives an overview of the impact inculturation had on recent Anglican liturgical texts in Anglican Eucharistic Liturgies: 1985 – 2010, op. cit., 2-8. 20. See chapter 5 of Geoffrey J. Cuming’s A History of Anglican Liturgy (London : Macmillan, 1969), 94-116. 21. On the kind of worship promoted by Laudians, see the masterful study by Kenneth Fincham and Nicholas Tyacke, Restored: the Changing Face of English Religious Worship, 1547–c. 1700 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 22. Old Catholic churches, born of a split in the Roman Catholic Church in the wake of the First Vatican Council (Old Catholics refused the dogma of ), constitute a significant part of the ecclesiastical landscape in Germany and central Europe.

AUTHORS

RÉMY BETHMONT

Université Paris 8, TransCrit

AUDE DE MÉZERAC-ZANETTI

Université Lille 3, CECILLE

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The Book of Common Prayer: a Timeline Chronologie du Book of Common Prayer

The Henrician Reformation

1534: Act of Supremacy, recognizing that Henry VIII is rightfully head of the Church in England, enforced by an oath taken by all clergy. 1538: Royal Injunctions ordering all parishes to buy a Bible in English. Thomas Cranmer starts work to revise, translate and simplify the breviary (morning and evening services instead of seven daily offices). 1547: Death of Henry VIII, accession of Edward VI.

The Edwardian Reformation

1548: Order of Communion: introduction of some English in the . Convocations of Clergy and House of Lords debate Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer. 1549: Book of Common Prayer published (March) and its use made compulsory (June). Rebellions against the Prayer Book in Devon, Cornwall and East Anglia. 1550: Introduction of new Ordinal ( liturgy) and abolition of minor orders. First Vestarian Controversy: Hooper refuses to wear traditional episcopal ( and ) for his as Bishop of Gloucester. 1551: Hooper consecrated bishop in required vestments. Book of Common Prayer translated into Latin. 1552: Act of Uniformity orders use of second Book of Common Prayer (March). John Knox objects to kneeling at communion. 1 Printing of the second Book of Common Prayer halted and a ‘black’ rubric (in black ink instead of traditional red ink) added to specify that kneeling does not imply belief in the real presence of in the Eucharist. French translation of the 1552 Book of Common Prayer published.

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The Reign of Mary Tudor

1553: Death of Edward VI (July). Jane Grey proclaimed Queen, Mary rallies support and is proclaimed Queen (July). Parliament passes Act of Repeal, undoing Edward VI’s Reformation. 1554: Mass exile of English Protestants to the Continent. Second Act of Repeal: undoing Henry VIII’s Reformation; England reconciled to Rome.

The Elizabethan Reformation

1558: Death of Mary and accession of Elizabeth (17 November). Elizabeth leaves the royal chapel when bishop Oglethorpe elevates the host despite her command. 1559: Act of Supremacy and Act of Uniformity (Mary’s religious legislation undone, Elizabeth granted the title of Supreme Governor of the Church of England, conformity to Book of Common Prayer ordered). Restoration of the Book of Common Prayer combining elements of 1552 BCP with elements of 1549 version (kneeling at communion but omitted, amended, 1549 and 1552 words of adminstration combined in a single formula, creating some latitude on Eucharistic doctrine). Queen orders restoration of to Chapel Royal. 1563: Calls for further ecclesiastical reform (abolition of holy days, sign of the cross, compulsory use of , kneeling, organ music). Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion passed by the Convocations of Clergy. Book of Common Prayer translated into Welsh. 1564-66: Second vestarian controversy. Elizabeth and Archbishop Parker enforce conformity (clergy indicted or deprived for refusing to wear the surplice). Term ‘Puritan’ used for the more radical Protestants calling for further reforms in worship and church government and for an increased emphasis on preaching. 1572: Parliament examines bill to allow dispensations from wearing vestments and observing ceremonies. Queen bans bills on religious matters from being introduced in Parliament without support of . 1581: House of Commons’ petition for Church reform rejected. 1586: Introduction of a Bill in the Commons to reform the Book of Common Prayer and establish a Geneva-style liturgy.

The Church of the Early Stuarts

1603: Death of Elizabeth, accession of James VI of Scotland to the English throne as James I. 1604: Hampton Court Conference meets to find agreement between bishops and Puritans. Book of Common Prayer of 1559 re-issued with minor changes. Enforcement campaign leading to deprivation of eighty ministers. 1607-10: Production of the first translation of the Book of Common Prayer into Italian, to encourage the Venetian Republic’s anti-Roman policies. 1611: Authorised Version of the Bible published.

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1620s-: rise of Laudianism (beauty of holiness, emphasis on ritualism, Arminianism, as a consequence church rails and altars restored in parish churches). 1625: Death of James I and accession of Charles I. 1637: Laudian version of the Book of Common Prayer (based on the 1549 edition) imposed in Scotland. Strong popular resistance to royal policy of Anglicanization of the Kirk. 1638: Book of Common Prayer and office of bishop abolished by Scottish synod. Widespread subscription to National Covenant launched armed resistance to king’s policy and led to the two Bishops’ wars. 1640-1: Resistance in England to Laudian policies in Parliament and ‘out of doors’. Calls to revise the Book of Common Prayer. 1642: Beginning of the Civil War 1645: Book of Common Prayer abolished and replaced with Directory of Worship. 1649: Trial and execution of Charles I

The Church of the Late Stuarts

1660: Charles II restored as king. 1661: Savoy Conference to revise the Book of Common Prayer. 1662: Act of Uniformity restores the Book of Common Prayer with little accomodation to Puritan demands. 900 clergy ejected for refusing to accept the Book of Common Prayer. 1664: Conventicles Act outlaws Non-Conformist prayer meetings (i.e. worship with Book of Common Prayer is now mandatory). 1660-1685: Repression against Non-Conformists and failure of Charles II’s policies to secure toleration for Catholics. 1685: Death of Charles II, of James II, first Catholic king since 1558. Publication in London of the Book of Common Prayer in Italian. 1688: William of Orange lands at Torbay, James II flees England. Start of the Glorious Revolution. 1689: Parliament declares the throne vacant ; William and Mary crowned. 400 clergy (Non-Jurors) refuse to take the oath of allegiance, leading to loss of their livings some time later. Toleration for Dissenters. 1690: Following the rejection of episcopacy by the Kirk, Scottish Anglicans reorganise in the Scottish Episcopal Church. They use the 1637 Laudian Book of Common Prayer.

The Church in the Georgian Era

1744: John Wesley calls the first Methodist conference in London. 1764: Scottish Anglicans publish the Scottish Communion Office, a revised eucharistic liturgy based on the Laudian 1637 Communion service. 1780: John Wesley publishes A Collection of Hymns for the Use of People called Methodists. 1784: Methodist Episcopal Church established in America. Publication of Sunday Service of the Methodists in North America, with other occasional services (a revised version of the Book of Common Prayer). 1789: After reorganising within a newly created Episcopal Church, American Anglicans in the independent United States adopt their own revised version of the Book of

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Common Prayer, whose eucharistic rite owes a great deal to the 1764 Scottish Communion Office. 1797: Non-Wesleyans reject the use of the Book of Common Prayer.

The Nineteenth-Century Church

1828: Repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts. 1829: Catholic emancipation. 1833: Beginning of the with the publication of . Rise of Anglo-Catholicism: belief that the Anglican Church is a branch of the Catholic Church. Key figures in the movement: John Keble, John Henry Newman and Edward Pusey. 1836: Augustus Pugin publishes Contrasts, encouraging gothic revival in church building and return to medieval faith and social structures. 1840s-1870s: Rise of Ritualism (re-introduction of pre-Reformation rituals in church services). 1874: Public Worship Regulation Act, banning ritualism, a few members of the clergy prosecuted. First Bonn Union Conference: first agreement between Anglican Church and German speaking Old Catholics (but the question of the validity of Anglican orders is not settled). 1874: French Reformed minister Eugène Bersier publishes Liturgie à l’usage des Eglises Réformées, inspired by the Book of Common Prayer. 1882: Publication of the Methodist Book of Public Prayer and Services. 1899: Percy Dearmer publishes The Parson’s Handbook, arguing for a strict compliance with the rubrics of the Book of Common Prayer, including the use of pre-Reformation rituals (Sarum rite) and ornaments, thus normalizing High-Church ritualism.

The Twentieth- and Twenty-First-Century Church

1906: Commission established to revise the Book of Common Prayer. 1911: Creation of the Society of St Peter and St Paul by Anglo-Catholics in response to the popularity of ritualism as popularized by The Parson’s Handbook. The Society later published the (1921). 1927-8: House of Commons twice reject Prayer Book Measure (revised version of the Book of Common Prayer). 1928: Upper House of the Convocation of Canterbury authorise bishops to allow use of Deposited Book (revised version). 1936: Publication of the Methodist Book of Offices. 1931: Bonn Agreement, establishing full communion between the Anglican church and the Old Catholic churches. 1979: Latest revision of the American Book of Common Prayer in the Episcopal Church. 1980: Publication of the Alternative Service Book, a modern set of liturgies to be used as an alternative to the Book of Common Prayer in the Church of England. 1985: The Anglican Church of Canada authorises the Book of Alternative Services, a modern set of liturgies for use as an alternative to the Canadian version of the Book of Common Prayer (1918, revised in 1964). 1999: Publication of the Methodist Worship Book.

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2000: Common Worship replaces the 1980 Alternative Service Book. 2007: Pope Benedict XVI issues the motu proprio Summorum Pontificum which reauthorises the use of the Tridentine rite in the Roman Catholic Church. 2009: Pope Benedict XVI publishes Anglicanorum coetibus: special provisions for Anglicans converting to Catholicism, including use of Anglican liturgy. 2 This chronology is indebted to Rosemary O’ Day, The Routledge Companion to The Tudor Age, Routledge: 2010 and John Wroughton, The Routledge Companion to The Stuart Age, 1603-1714, Routledge: 2006.

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Constructing the Anglican Liturgical Tradition La Construction d'une tradition liturgique anglicane

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The Political Enforcement of Liturgical Continuity in the Church of England 1558-1662 L’imposition par le pouvoir politique de la continuité liturgique dans l’Eglise d’Angleterre, 1558-1662

Claire Cross

1 The preservation of the liturgy in the mid sixteenth century, which revisions of the Book of Common Prayer altered little, was primarily caused by reasons of state, but this relative continuity with the medieval liturgical past, was bought at a very considerable price. Secular politics have impacted upon the Book of Common Prayer throughout its history, not least because the passage of the 1559 Act of Supremacy, which once more recognised the monarch as both the head of the English state and the supreme governor of the English church, automatically made objections to the Prayer Book a potential infringement of royal authority. Time and again during the century between the accession of Elizabeth and the restoration of Charles II moderate and radical Protestants alike raised concerns over whether the liturgy of the Prayer Book accurately reflected the doctrine of the national church: the failure to address these issues contributed in no small measure to the destruction of a comprehensive Protestant church in England in 1662.

2 The Book of Common Prayer was far from being set in aspic when Elizabeth succeeded to the throne in November 1558. Despite his renunciation of the papacy, Henry VIII had remained conservative in many other aspects of religion, and allowed only a few alterations in the church's worship. It was only when the reformers seized control on the accession of Edward VI in January 1547 that a wholesale revision of the liturgy took place, starting with the publication of a Communion Service in the vernacular in 1548. A convinced evangelical by this date, Cranmer had nevertheless moved very cautiously when compiling the First Book of Common Prayer of 1549, and kept as much of the traditional pattern as he could. When, however, his opponents had begun interpreting the 1549 Prayer Book in a Catholic sense, he had devised a second unequivocally

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Protestant Prayer Book in 1552. This second Prayer Book had been in use for a mere three quarters of a year when Edward VI died on 6 July 1553 and his half sister Mary I brought back the old Catholic liturgy and returned the country to the papal fold.1 3 Once they had reached the relative safety of the Continent, the first contingent of Protestant clergy and laity, fleeing the country on account of their religion, were more than ready to abandon the 1552 Book of Common Prayer and model their worship upon that of their hosts. Some later arrivals, however, insisted on its retention at least partly as a sign of their English identity. The attempt by Richard Cox and his party to impose the Prayer Book on the English congregation at Frankfort resulted in half the community migrating with John Knox to Geneva. Yet even the members of the church who stayed in Frankfort conceded in a letter to Calvin in April 1555 that the second Edwardian Prayer Book still contained some imperfections, which they had recently taken it upon themselves to amend: when the magistrates lately gave us permission to adopt the rites of our native country we freely relinquished all those ceremonies which were regarded by our brethren as offensive and inconvenient. For we gave up private baptism, of children, saints days, kneeling at the holy communion, the linen surplice of the ministers, crosses, and other things of the like character.2 4 Most of the exiles returned in haste to England on Mary’s death on 17 November 1558 to discover to their chagrin that they could exert very little direct influence on the religious settlement. The new Protestant government faced considerable opposition to making any change in religion, and with the Catholic bishops still ensconced in the House of Lords only succeeded by a hair’s breadth just after in persuading Parliament to pass the Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity, which respectively acknowledged the crown as the supreme governor of the English church and decreed that all ministers throughout the country be ‘bounden to say and use’ the Prayer Book, and no other formulary, from 24 June 1559. Apart from the inclusion of the words of administration at holy communion from the first Edwardian Prayer Book, the Elizabethan Prayer Book differed very little from the second Prayer Book of Edward VI. Probably because Calvin himself held more than a memorialist view of the Lord’s supper, this particular change does not seem to have troubled Protestants bent on further reform. What seriously concerned them was the rubric which directed that ‘such ornaments of the church and of the ministers thereof shall be retained and be in use as was in this church of England by authority of Parliament in the second year of the reign of King Edward the VI’. To those who had so recently observed the ‘best’ reformed churches on the Continent at first hand it now seemed intolerable to have to re-adopt the garb of the Catholic priesthood. The former exile and incoming bishop of Worcester, Edwin Sandys, indeed could not believe that the vestments clause would apply to convinced Protestants: ‘our gloss upon this text’, he wrote in late April 1559, ‘is that we shall not be forced to use them.’ At around the same time , the future and author of the classic defence of the English church, referred disparagingly to ‘the scenic apparatus of divine worship’. Even though in practice the new Elizabethan bishops appear only to have required parochial clergy to wear the vestments in use at the death of Edward VI, that is to all intents and purposes the surplice, the rubric remained a major stumbling block for those striving to secure a fully reformed church in England.3

5 The vestments rubric contained the provision that it should continue in operation “until other order shall be therein taken by authority of the queen’s majesty with the

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advice of her commissioners appointed and authorised under the great seal of England for causes ecclesiastical or of the metropolitan of this realm”, and for a decade at least many leading churchmen anticipated vestments and ceremonies specified in the Prayer Book might be modified if not dispensed with altogether. At the national synod of the clergy in 1562 Bishop Sandys moved that the queen should be petitioned that ‘private baptism might be taken out of the Book of Common Prayer’ and that ‘the for crossing of the infant in the forehead may be blotted out, as it seems very superstitious, so it is not needful.’ The appeal achieved nothing. With a similar lack of success, the more forward clergy at the 1563 synod attempted to excise from the Prayer Book the observance of saints’ days, kneeling at communion, signing with the cross at baptism, and the clergy’s obligation to wear the surplice during worship and a distinctive outdoor dress when they went abroad. The approval by this Convocation of the Thirty- Nine Articles, a condensed and somewhat modified version of the indisputably Protestant Forty-Two Articles of the last year of Edward VI, and their subsequent endorsement by Parliament in 1571, drew yet further attention to the discrepancy between the church’s doctrine and the quasi-Catholic practices countenanced by the Book of Common Prayer.4 6 Stymied in Convocation, clergy with scruples over the Prayer Book turned to their lay sympathisers for support. In London and its hinterland numerous congregations sheltered ministers who refused to wear the surplice. Enticed to Hull from Boston in Lincolnshire by a group of forward councillors, Melchior Smith in the 1560s delegated the reading of Prayer Book services in Holy Trinity church to and clad in a Genevan gown only appeared in the pulpit to preach. The protection of the godly third earl of Huntingdon enabled the Marian exile and very vocal opponent of vestments, Anthony Gilby, to promote the cause for reform from the Hastings family seat at Ashby de la Zouch in Leicestershire virtually unscathed for over two decades until his death in 1585.5 7 Having encountered this type of passive resistance on her progresses across southern England, at the beginning of 1565 Elizabeth insisted upon the enforcement of uniformity in the matter of clerical dress. The ensuing Vestiarian Controversy split the reformers. In Oxford, the former exiles Laurence Humphrey and Thomas Sampson, now respectively president of Magdalen College and , rejecting the argument that vestments might be regarded as a matter of indifference to be imposed at the will of the civil magistrate, felt called to make a stand. At the height of the dispute, after admitting to Bullinger ‘we have (praised be God!) a doctrine pure and incorrupt,’ they asked rhetorically, ‘why should we go halting in regard to divine F0 F0 worship, which is not the least important part of religion? 5B … 5D We have always F0 F0 thought well of the bishops 5B … 5D Why do they cast us into prison? Why do they persecute us on account of the habits?' For their part, some of the bishops had qualms about what their supreme governor was constraining them to do, as Grindal and Horn some months later told Bullinger and Gualter, explaining that they had been acting at the queen's behest and that they still wished the vestments rubric could be dropped together with the practice of signing with the cross at baptism and kneeling at communion. Saved by a legal nicety Humphrey rode out the storm at Magdalen, but Sampson lost the deanery of Christ Church, a crown appointment, and a number of the lesser clergy were deprived of their livings for refusing to conform. From the time of the Vestiarian Controversy the hotter sort of Protestants increasingly looked upon the bishops as their adversaries, while some now began questioning the legitimacy of the

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very institution of episcopacy. Then in lectures on the New Testament delivered at Cambridge university in 1570 Thomas Cartwright advanced the revolutionary proposition that rather than the regulation of the church being a matter of indifference and so open to modification by the secular power Presbyterianism alone was the divinely sanctioned form of church government.6 8 While by this date reformers had despaired of gaining change through Convocation, they had not entirely abandoned hope of Parliament. They introduced bills to impose a stricter code of ecclesiastical discipline and to purge the Prayer Book of the hated ceremonies in the Parliament of 1571, but made no progress whatsoever in the face of the queen’s opposition. Though they must have known very well how she would react, a group of laymen still sponsored another bill for the reform of the Prayer Book in the Parliament of 1572. Some radicals, however, had lost all patience with the policy of waiting upon the magistrate and before that session of Parliament had even come to an end two young ministers, Thomas Wilcox and John Field, took the decision to move the debate out into the market place, and to appeal to the nation at large.7 9 In their tract, misleadingly entitled An Admonition to the Parliament, they launched a scathing attack on the Prayer Book in language deliberately designed to court the populace. ‘We must needs say ... that this book is an unperfect book, culled and picked out of that popish dunghill, the Mass Book, full of abominations.’ It contained a host of totally unacceptable observances: ‘private communion, private baptism, baptism ministered by women, holy days ascribed to saints, prescript services for them, kneeling at communion, wafer cakes for their bread when they minister it, surplice and to do it in, coming in ...’ The laity, moreover, derived little benefit from this form of worship: In all their order of service there is no edification, according to the rule of the apostle, but confusion. They toss the psalms in most places like tennis balls. The people some standing, some walking, some talking, some reading, some praying by F0 F0 themselves, attend not to the minister. 5B … 5D As for organs and curious singing, though they be proper to popish dens, I mean the cathedral churches, yet some others also must have them. The queen’s chapel and these churches must be patterns and precedents to the people of all superstitions. 10 They then moved on to the habits, marvelling that the church should still have kept ‘, caps, , , and such like baggage, the preaching signs of popish priesthood, the pope’s creatures.’8

11 Most fundamentally of all the admonitioners believed that the Prayer Book, since it did not provide for at the main services as a matter of course, seriously hindered the church’s teaching ministry. When conscientious clergy took it upon themselves to preach, as they considered that it was their obligation to do every Sunday, the sheer length of the set service, in the morning mattins followed by the ante-communion, limited the time available for the . Some conservatives even preferred the reading of printed homilies to sermons, and in the fulness of their blasphemy have said that much preaching bringeth the word of God into contempt, and that four preachers were enough for all London, so far are they from thinking it necessary, and seeking that every congregation should have a faithful pastor.9 12 During the 1560s theological exercises known as prophesyings, intended to educate the parochial clergy and improve their capacity to preach, had sprung up in many parts of the country. When she heard about them, because of their voluntary nature Elizabeth

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saw them as threats to the hierarchical government of the church, and commanded the archbishop of Canterbury, , to suppress them. After his death in 1575 the unwelcome task fell to his successor, Edmund Grindal. Moved to the quick after she had spoken slightingly of preaching in his presence, the new archbishop felt compelled to speak his mind, and taking his inspiration from the remonstration addressed to the emperor Theodosius by St Ambrose in the fourth century composed a public letter to the queen: Alas, madam! Is the scripture more plain in any one thing than that the gospel of F0 F0 Christ should be plentifully preached? 5B … 5D Public and continual preaching of F0 F0 God’s word is the ordinary mean and instrument of the salvation of mankind. 5B … 5D The reading of homilies hath his commodity, but is nothing comparable to the F0 F0 office of preaching 5B which had been greatly advanced by 5D the learned exercise and conference amongst the ministers of the church He had rather surrender his office than curb preaching. He concluded by reminding the supreme governor of her obligations to the church: Remember, madam, that you are a mortal creature. And although ye are a mighty prince, yet remember he which dwelleth in heaven is mightier. Wherefore I do beseech you, madam, in visceribus Christi, when you deal in these religious causes, set the majesty of God before your eyes, laying all earthly majesty aside, determine with yourself to obey his voice, and with all humility say unto him, Non mea sed tua voluntas fiat.10 13 Greatly offended, the queen ordered Grindal’s sequestration, and he never regained his powers of office. His sufferings, however, did much to redeem the institution of episcopacy in the eyes of more radical Protestants and so long as he lived the voices calling for the Presbyterian form of the church government fell silent. Everything changed when he died and John Whitgift succeeded him as archbishop of Canterbury in the autumn of 1583. A disciplinarian, Whitgift at once set to work to impose a greater uniformity upon the church and as a means to that end required the clergy to give their formal consent to three propositions. Most had no problem in acknowledging the royal supremacy and the Thirty-Nine Articles, but the more scrupulous among them could not in conscience accept ‘that the Book of Common Prayer and of ordering bishops, and containeth nothing in it contrary to the word of God.’ In the ensuing outcry Burghley accused the archbishop of acting like a Roman inquisitor, and Whitgift had eventually to content himself with a limited subscription. The damage, however, was done, the bishops appeared once again to have resumed the role of persecutors, and the hotter sort of Protestants considered they had every justification in renewing their attacks on the institution of episcopacy.11

14 Throwing caution to the winds, in parts of the south of England, the Midlands and East Anglia some ministers now began implementing a voluntary form of Presbyterianism within the national church, meeting in local, regional and occasionally national synods. In 1586 Sir Anthony Cope even went so far as to introduce a bill into the House of Commons to replace the Prayer Book with the Genevan liturgy and the ancient system of law with a much stricter Presbyterian discipline. United in the defence of episcopacy the bishops retaliated by prosecuting Cartwright and his associates first in the Court of High Commission and then in the Star Chamber. Although they failed to convict them of high treason, they nevertheless succeeded in crushing the movement and gagging its protagonists for the remainder of the reign.12 15 The defeat of Presbyterianism, however, did nothing to silence criticism of the Book of Common Prayer. Drawing up his will a year before he died in 1588 no less a churchman

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than Edwin Sandys, and second only to the archbishop of Canterbury in the episcopal hierarchy, recorded for posterity his desire for its further reform: concerning rites and ceremonies by political constitutions authorized amongst us, as I am and have been persuaded that such as are now set down by public authority in this church of England are no way either ungodly or unlawful, but may with good F0 F0 conscience for order and obedience sake be used of a good Christian. 5B … 5D So have I ever been and presently am persuaded that some of them be not so expedient in this church now, but that in the church reformed, and in all this time of the gospel (wherein the seed of the scripture hath so long been sown), that they may better be disused by little and little, than more and more urged.13 16 Aspirations were one thing, their realisation another and by this date it must have become evident to moderates and radicals alike that the present queen would allow no alterations to the Prayer Book during her life time. Everything changed in 1603 on the accession of James I, a Scot educated from infancy in an indubitably fully reformed church, and within a month of Elizabeth’s death the new monarch received a petition from allegedly a thousand of his subjects “for the reformation of certain ceremonies and abuses of the church”. Deliberately moderate in tone the petition repeated the calls for reform made so frequently in the previous half century - that “the cross in baptism ... be taken away”, that “church songs and music be moderated to better edification”, “that examination may go before the communion”, and “that men be not excommunicated without the consent of the pastor”. It also asked that newly ordained ministers should in the future only be required to acknowledge the royal supremacy and declare their assent to the articles of religion.14

17 Unlike Elizabeth, James positively enjoyed theological disputation, and responded to the petition by presiding over a conference at Hampton Court in January 1604. The king sympathised with the reformers’ call for a greater supply of learned preachers and for a new translation of the Bible, but, highly sensitive to any infringement of his position as supreme governor, exploded in anger when he mistakenly thought John Reynolds was suggesting that a modified form of Presbyterianism should be introduced into the English church. The conference ended with the king impressing upon the petitioners the virtue of obedience and urging them to appeal to him personally if they felt the bishops were treating them too harshly. Apart from the insertion of clauses disallowing baptism by midwives and justifying the rite of confirmation, the edition of the Prayer Book, issued a mere three weeks later, was in all other respects identical with the Book of Common Prayer of 1559.15 18 Particularly during the archiepiscopate of Richard Bancroft, who occupied the see of Canterbury between 1604 and 1610, clergy continued to be excluded from their livings for refusing to observe the rites and ceremonies prescribed in the Book of Common Prayer, though even the king conceded that these “puritans and novelists” did “not so far differ from us in points of religion as in their confused form of policy and parity”. For their part, so long as James remained the supreme governor and a Calvinist consensus prevailed in religion the great majority of ministers felt able to exercise their vocation within the church, taking comfort in the fact that in all essentials its doctrine accorded with that of the best reformed churches on the Continent.16 19 This way of thinking, however, was totally antipathetic to a theological movement which had been growing in strength in the two universities since the last decades of the previous century. Derided as Arminians, these opponents of , who rejected

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predestination in favour of freewill, placed the sacraments above sermons and no longer held the pope to be the Antichrist, seemed to their antagonists to be about to be re-introducing Catholicism by the back door. James I had been cautious in promoting such churchmen, but the moment Charles I succeeded his father in 1625 the gates of patronage sprang wide open. In a mere three years the party’s leader, , progressed from the insignificant Welsh bishopric of St David’s via Bath and Wells to London in the knowledge that the see of Canterbury would become his so soon as it fell vacant. His older colleague, Richard Neile, achieved an equally rapid advance from Durham to Winchester and then York. Alarmed by the Arminians’ capture of so many of the chief posts in the church, Parliament in 1629 called upon Charles to preserve “the F0 F0 orthodox doctrine of our church 5B … 5D according as it hath been hitherto generally received, without any alteration or innovation” and only “to confer bishoprics, and other ecclesiastical preferments, with the advice of his privy council, upon learned, pious and orthodox men”.17 20 Ignoring their protests, Charles chose to rule without a Parliament, and gave the Arminians free rein. Laud and his followers then proceeded to implement their programme largely through a literal enforcement of the observances and practices set out in the Book of Common Prayer. Their campaign to bring worship in parish churches into harmony with the far more elaborate liturgy celebrated in cathedrals, collegiate churches and royal chapels met with widespread resistance from influential sectors of the laity, who in particular opposed the requirement that the holy table, which for generations had been brought down into the body of the church for the communion service, be now situated permanently altar wise at the east end of the chancel and railed. To curb preaching the Laudians went on to order clergy to replace afternoon sermons, for which there was no provision in the Prayer Book, with regular catechising, and attempted to put an end the practice of sermon gadding by forcing the laity to attend all services in their parish church.18 21 The implementation of this policy aroused resentment throughout the country, especially in towns like Salisbury, where the civic elite suffered a particularly humiliating defeat. The vestry of St Edmund’s, one of Salisbury’s three parishes, dominated by Henry Sherfield, the city’s recorder and representative in Parliament between 1624 and 1629, and a prominent goldsmith, John Ivie, had recently acquired the advowson and in 1623 appointed a known reformer, Peter Thatcher. The new minister had then gone on to endorse from the pulpit the corporation’s wide ranging plans for the creation of a godly commonwealth, only to be stopped in his tracks when Sherfield, in 1630, ill-advisedly took it upon himself to destroy a stained-glass window in St Edmund’s which depicted God in the act of creating the world. In the ensuing Star Chamber trial, in which Sherfield was found guilty of iconoclasm, Laud went out of his way to incriminate Thatcher, who, he alleged, had “not read all the divine service a whole year together”. After Sherfield’s disgrace a group of disillusioned parishioners, which included the minister’s teenage son, left Salisbury in despair for New England, and Thatcher himself for a time contemplated retiring to a safe haven in Herefordshire. In the event, he remained with his flock, and his harassment by the ecclesiastical authorities seems only to have increased his standing in popular estimation. Throughout the decade, the laity continued to relish his preaching, and no fewer than thirty-seven members of the adjoining parish of St Thomas appeared in the local

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church court in 1637 for neglecting services in their own church to frequent Thatcher’s sermons.19 22 At the other end of England the chief inhabitants of the prosperous parish of St Martin’s, Micklegate, in York had similarly acquired the patronage of their church. In 1633 they conferred the cure on John Birchill, who then proceeded to combine his parochial duties with acting as the household chaplain to Thomas Hoyle, a leading merchant and member of the corporation. Hoyle had recently purchased a small estate in Colton, a hamlet some half a dozen miles from the city and on a summer’s day in 1635 Hoyle, his wife, daughter, Birchill and friends made an excursion into the country to visit his manor house. Before venturing out into the fields, Hoyle requested Birchill to offer up a prayer, which he did, asking God to bless our king, queen and whole state, giving also thanks to God for his mercies spiritual and temporal and for the temporal mercies here and elsewhere given to Alderman Hoyle and his, together with a desire that we might rightly use them. And that he would bless them to us and our posterity.20 23 News of the expedition quickly reached the ecclesiastical authorities who accused Birchill of holding an illegal conventicle and of praying in an ex tempore manner in contempt of the Book of Common Prayer. Having pursued him for the rest of the decade the court inflicted a final indignity upon the ailing minister in March 1640 by requiring him to read divine service in his parish church of St Martin’s as is prescribed in the Book of Common Prayers established in the Church of England, and in his sermon upon Sunday next and in some passages of his other sermons hereafter to justify, maintain and defend the same to be both pious, lawful and well pleasing unto God and to enforce it to his parishioners.’21 24 For eleven years from 1629 lay supporters of clergy like Thatcher and Birchill had no national forum in which to seek redress. The wheel then turned full circle. To raise supplies to put down the rebellion north of the border, caused in no small part by Laud’s attempt to impose the Book of Common Prayer upon the Scots, the king had no alternative but to call a Parliament. The moment they gathered in Westminster in November 1640 members of the House of Commons began voicing their grievances over prelacy and the Prayer Book, with the more extreme seeking a total overhaul of the church’s government, and some Londoners as early as December calling upon Parliament to eradicate episcopacy “root and branch”. In January, Parliament received a petition from eighty Suffolk ministers for the reformation of the Prayer Book and, to that end, set up a committee two months later under the leadership of John Williams, Laud’s archenemy, recently elevated to the archbishopric of York. On the passing of the Grand Remonstrance, which included a demand for the abolition of “needless and F0 F0 F0 F0 superstitious ceremonies 5B … 5D and 5B … 5D monuments of idolatry”, in December 1641 the king agreed among much else to the removal of ‘any illegal innovations’ introduced into the Prayer Book. These concessions, however, were too little and too late.22

25 In parts of the country, radicals were already starting to take the law into their own hands, venting their anger at first on some of the greater churches. In Norwich, the mob burst into the cathedral, dragged out service books, vestments and organ pipes and set them on fire in the market place. Similar iconoclasm happened at Canterbury cathedral with prayer books pulled apart and strewed around the aisles. Then lesser churches came under attack. Holding that the prayer book “was a popish book and against the word of God”, William Harvie of Earls Colne in Essex took “the Common

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Prayer Book out of his parish church on a Sunday morning” and threw “the same into a pond of water, and the next day, finding it swimming, took the same and tearing it to pieces threw part of it into the fire and burnt it”.23 26 Thrust onto the defensive by these outbreaks of popular insurrection, members of the governing class rallied to the Prayer Book and began petitioning Parliament in its support. Kentish petitioners claimed that “the solemn liturgy of the Church of England” was “embraced by the most and best of all the laity”, Lancashire petitioners that the Prayer Book enjoyed the “general approbation of the most pious and learned of this nation”, while those from Cornwall extolled “the divine and excellent form of Common Prayer”. Yet despite their veneration for the Prayer Book virtually all the petitioners drew the line at the changes introduced by the Laudians, with those from Bedfordshire inserting a specific clause condemning “the exorbitances of ecclesiastical jurisdiction and the innovations lately obtruded upon our church”. What most of these conservatives seem to have wanted was a return to what they now regarded as the golden age of the English church in the reigns of Elizabeth and James.24 27 Throughout 1641 and the first half of 1642, moderates on both sides continued in their efforts to devise a modified form of episcopacy and a reformed Book of Common Prayer, but time was against them. The outbreak of the Civil War in August 1642 had the effect of polarising attitudes towards the Prayer Book yet further, with Royalists making a point of observing it to the letter, Parliamentarians increasingly ready to dispense with it altogether. In the event, military exigencies decided the issue. Having come to the realisation that the king’s forces could not be defeated without aid from abroad, Parliament had little choice in September 1643 but to enter into the Solemn League and Covenant with the Scots, and to accede to their demand that the government and liturgy of the English church should be brought into accord with that of the church in Scotland. After long periods of deliberation, the Assembly of Divines duly produced a guide for extempore worship, the Westminster Directory, and in the first week of January 1645 Parliament passed an ordinance requiring all parish churches to adopt this new form of service and banned the Book of Common Prayer.25 28 For the next fifteen years, the Prayer Book went underground, its clandestine use in England seen as a sign of political subversion if not potential treason, and the only place it could be openly employed in worship was at the royal court in exile on the Continent. Royalist sympathisers nevertheless contrived to avail themselves of the Prayer Book privately in their households and, in the relatively tolerant Commonwealth period, were occasionally able to attend semi-public Prayer Book services conducted by sequestered Church of England clergy.26 29 The Royalists’ devotion to the Book of Common Prayer made it virtually inevitable that a version of the Prayer Book and an episcopal form of church government would be reinstated on Charles II’s restoration in May 1660. In the Declaration of Breda issued the previous month the king, by nature a pragmatist, had promised to bind up the country’s “bleeding wounds” and grant freedom of religion to tender consciences. He now made overtures to some of the most eminent clergy who had served in the Commonwealth church and authorised the setting up a commission to discuss the revision of the Prayer Book. This conference met in March 1661 at the Savoy in London. put the case for reform, arguing at length for extensive modifications in the liturgy and for a toleration for those clergy who could not accept certain rites and ceremonies. Antagonised by his pedantry, the episcopal party refused to grant any

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concessions, and the delegates dispersed with nothing achieved. The task then passed to the bishops, and, at the eleventh hour, a group of Laudian clergy attempted to resurrect the much more conservative 1549 Prayer Book. The majority of churchmen, however, regarded this as a step too far and the Book of Common Prayer approved by the Convocations of Canterbury and York in December 1661 was in all essentials identical with the Prayer Book of 1552.27 30 At this juncture the , , determined to restore the church to the state in which it had been before the Civil War, turned to the newly elected Cavalier Parliament to outmanoeuvre the king and his chief minister, the earl of Clarendon, who were still hoping for a more inclusive and conciliatory religious settlement. He gained his objective through the patient marshalling of sympathisers in the Lords and Commons, and clauses were inserted in the new Act of Uniformity decreeing the only episcopally ordained clergy, who had repudiated the Solemn League and Covenant and declared in public their “unfeigned assent and consent to all and F0 F0 everything contained and prescribed in 5B … 5D the Book of Common Prayer”, might hold livings in the English church. The Act received the royal assent on 19 May and came into force on St Bartholomew’s Day, 24 August, 1662.28 31 From the death of Edward VI until the Civil War, Protestants who had difficulty in reconciling the church’s liturgy with its had nevertheless considered themselves full members of the English church. Even late in Elizabeth’s reign, felt able to maintain that “there is not any man of the church of England but the same is also a member of the commonwealth, nor any member of the commonwealth, which is not also of the church of England”. No theologian could make such a claim with any plausibility after the Restoration. The refusal of hard line Episcopalians first to sanction any substantial modifications to the Prayer Book and subsequently to allow leniency to tender consciences in the Act of Uniformity resulted in the ejection of around two thousand ministers with their congregations in the space of two years between the fall of the republic and Black Bartholomew’s Day. The re- adoption of the Book of Common Prayer in 1662 thus marked the end of a comprehensive church in England.29 It is, therefore, somewhat ironic that it was the more "Romish" aspects of Prayer Book worship - so very controversial in the first century of its use- that most contributed to the position of Anglican worship as a unique resource for various churches on the Continent since the 19th century across historic denominational divides. More than "Romish", of course, these elements of worship were the result of continuity of liturgical practice from the Middle Ages, through the Henrician break with Rome, to the Edwardian Reformation and the Elizabethan Settlement.

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NOTES

1. F. Procter and W. H. Frere, A New History of the Book of Common Prayer (London, 1901), 45-90; B. Cummings, ed., The Book of Common Prayer: the Texts of 1549, 1559 and 1662 (Oxford, 2011). 2. E. Arber, ed., A Brief Discourse of the Troubles at Frankfort 1554-1558 (London, 1908), 77; spelling in all quotations has been modernised. 3. Cummings, ed., The Book of Common Prayer, 186-92; J. Bruce, ed., Correspondence of Matthew Parker (Parker Society, Cambridge, 1853), 65; H. Robinson, ed., The Zurich Letters (Parker Society, Cambridge, 1842), 23; P. Collinson, The Elizabethan Puritan Movement (London, 1967), 32-6; D. J. Crankshaw and A. Gillespie, ‘Parker, Matthew (1504-1575), archbishop of Canterbury and patron of scholarship’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford, 2004), vol. 42, 707-28 [hereafter ODNB]. 4. Cummings, ed. The Book of Common Prayer, 192; J. Ayre, ed., The Sermons of Edwin Sandys (Parker Society, Cambridge, 1841), 443; Collinson, Elizabethan Puritan Movement, 65-6; B. J. Kidd, The Thirty-Nine Articles: Their History and Explanation (London, 1899), 38-54. 5. Collinson, Elizabethan Puritan Movement, 50-51, 54-55, 69; C. Cross, Urban Magistrates and Ministers: Religion in Hull and Leeds from the Reformation to the Civil War, Borthwick Paper 67 (York, 1985), 14-15; C. Cross, ‘Gilby, Anthony (c.1510-1585), religious writer and Church of England clergyman’, ODNB, vol. 22, 213-14. 6. Zurich Letters, 162, 175-181; Collinson, Elizabethan Puritan Movement, 68-95. 7. W. H. Frere and C. E. Douglas eds., Puritan Manifestoes (London: SPCK, 1907, reprinted 1954), 8-55. 8. Puritan Manifestoes, 21, 29, 30, 35. 9. Puritan Manifestoes, 23. 10. W. Nicholson, ed., The Remains of Edmund Grindal (Parker Society, Cambridge, 1843), 378, 379, 382, 383, 389-90; P. Collinson, Archbishop Grindal, 1519-1583: the Struggle for a Reformed Church (London, 1979), 233-252. 11. Collinson, Elizabethan Puritan Movement, 245, 264. 12. P. Collinson, J. Craig, B. Usher, eds., Conferences and Combination Lectures in the Elizabethan Church: Dedham and Bury St Edmunds 1582-1590, Church of England Record Society 10 (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2003); Collinson, Elizabethan Puritan Movement parts 6, 7 and 8. 13. Ayre, ed., Sermons of Edwin Sandys, 448. 14. F. Shriver, ‘Hampton Court Re-visited: James I and the Puritans’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 33 (1982), 50-1. 15. Shriver, ‘Hampton Court Revisited’, 54-63. 16. Shriver, ‘Hampton Court Revisited’, 66. 17. N. Tyacke, Anti-Calvinists: the Rise of English Arminianism, c. 1590-1640 (Oxford, 1987); A. Milton, Catholic and Reformed: the Roman and Protestant Churches in English Protestant Thought, 1600-1640 (Cambridge, 1965); J. P. Kenyon, The Stuart Constitution 1603-1688 (Cambridge, 1966), 158. 18. K. Fincham and N. Tyacke, Altars Restored: the Changing Face of English Religious Worship 1547-c. 1700 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).

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19. P. Slack, ‘Thatcher [Thacher], Peter (1587/8-1641), Church of England clergyman’, ODNB, vol. 54, 207-9; P. Slack, ‘Religious Protest and Urban Authority: the Case of Henry Sherfield, Iconoclast’, Studies in Church History, 9 (1972), 295-302; J. Chandler, Endless Street: A History of Salisbury and its People (East Knoyle, Salisbury, 1983), 201-2. 20. Borthwick Institute of Archives, York CP H 2123 Responses of John Birchill; R. A. Marchant, The Puritans and the Church Courts in the Diocese of York 1560 - 1642 (London, 1960), 74 - 106. 21. Borthwick Institute of Archives HC AB 19 f. 115r. 22. P. King, ‘The Reasons for the Abolition of the Book of Common Prayer in 1645', Journal of Ecclesiastical History 21: 327-39; A. Hughes, ‘”The Public Profession of these Nations”: the National Church in Interregnum England’, in C. Durston and J. Maltby, eds., Religion in Revolutionary England (Manchester, 2006), 94. 23. King, ‘Reasons for the Abolition of the Book of Common Prayer’, 333-4; J. Maltby, Prayer Book and People in Elizabethan and Early Stuart England (Cambridge, 1998), 92-3. 24. Maltby, Prayer Book and People, 109, 113-14, 127. 25. King, ‘Reasons for the Abolition of the Book of Common Prayer’, 336-7. 26. J. Maltby, ‘Suffering and Surviving: the Civil Wars, the Commonwealth and the Formation of “Anglicanism”, 1642 - 60', in C. Durstan and J. Maltby, eds., Religion in Revolutionary England (Manchester, 2006), 158-201. 27. J. Spurr, The Restoration Church of England, 1646-1689 (New Haven and London, 1991), 30-41.; Cummings, ed., The Book of Common Prayer, 757-8, 769. 28. J. Spurr. ‘Sheldon, Gilbert (1598-1677), archbishop of Canterbury’, ODNB, vol. 50, 178-85; Spurr, The Restoration Church of England, pp.41-2; Cummings, ed., The Book of Common Prayer, 196, 198. 29. R. Hooker, Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity (London, 1666), Book VIII, 448.

ABSTRACTS

The parliamentary settlement of religion of 1559, which in the Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity recognised the monarch as the supreme governor of the English church and required the church to worship according to the only slightly modified, indisputably Protestant second Prayer Book of Edward VI, had long lasting political consequences, since it automatically made any questioning of the Prayer Book a potential infringement of royal authority. The Prayer Book had undergone radical changes in the short reign of Edward VI and committed Protestants, who repeatedly questioned whether the liturgy prescribed in the Prayer Book accurately reflected the theology of the national church, assumed that the crown would authorise further revision. The disappointment of their expectations in the century between the accession of Elizabeth and the restoration of Charles II contributed in no small way to the destruction of a comprehensive Protestant church in England in 1662.

Après l’avenement d’Elizabeth Ière, le Parlement rétablit la suprématie royale et la loi d’uniformité imposa à toute l’Eglise une version légèrement revisée du second Book of Common Prayer d’Edouard VI, liturgie clairement protestante. Ces decisions en matière de religion eurent un impact politique durable : toute remise en cause du livre de prières pouvait être comprise comme une atteinte à l’autorité royale. Entre sa première et sa seconde edition, toutes deux sous le règne d’Edouard VI (1547-1553), le Book of Common Prayer avait été profondément transformé.

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Les protestants les plus engagés, qui exprimait régulièrement leur malaise face à ce qu’ils voyaient comme un décalage entre la liturgie officielle et la théologie de l’Eglise nationale, étaient convaincus que la reine engagerait de nouvelles réformes. Du règne d’Elizabeth jusqu’au retour de Charles II sur le trône, leurs attentes furent décues et cette déconvenue explique en grande partie les profondes divisions de l’Eglise d’Angleterre qui empècherent la restauration d’une Eglise unifiée en 1662.

INDEX

Mots-clés: Book of Common Prayer, Elisabeth Ière, puritains, dynastie Stuarts, Eglise d'Angleterre Keywords: Book of Common Prayer, Elizabeth I, puritans, Stuart kings, Church of England

AUTHOR

CLAIRE CROSS

University of York

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A Reappraisal of Liturgical Continuity in the Mid-Sixteenth Century: Henrician Innovations and the First Books of Common Prayer Repenser la continuité liturgique au milieu du XVIe siècle: les innovations du règne d’Henri VIII et les premières éditions du Book of Common Prayer

Aude de Mézerac-Zanetti

1 For more than a century, eminent scholars, from F.E. Brightman to Brian Cummings, have tirelessly reconstructed the varied influences which contributed to shaping the Book of Common Prayer.1 When trying to untangle the multiple sources of the first liturgies in English, much of the focus rightly centres on the different rites from which Archbishop Cranmer drew, as he is usually considered to be the main compiler of the new liturgy. His knowledge in that field was extensive, ranging from the traditional Roman liturgy and its variants (such as the Sarum rite used in most of England) to rarer forms and Continental reformed rites. Charles Whitworth’s study of the penitential psalms in this issue is a telling example of how in several instances, the Prayer Book’s original Sarum influence survived successive revisions.2 The influence of doctrinal statements of Reformed churches on the prayer book has also been highlighted by Brian Spinks while the clear Biblical content has even led scholars such as Alec Ryrie to see the Anglican services as “mechanisms for delivering the English Bible to the people”. 3

2 However, very little attention is paid to the impact of the immediate past. Indeed, worship underwent a few practical changes in Henry’s reign. The liturgical developments of the 1530s and 1540s have been woefully neglected and this paper purports to correct this oversight and hence argue that although the 1549 Book of Common Prayer was radically novel and undisputedly broke with the past in many ways, it also presents some degree of continuity with changes implemented in the 1530s and 1540s. In the books and manuscripts surviving from this period, numerous

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meaningful adjustments to traditional forms of worship can be found. Building on these observations, I would like to offer some perspective on the bearing that the immediate past had on the composition of the early Books of Common Prayer. 3 By so doing, I do not mean to deny that the 1549 text departed widely from pre- Reformation liturgical traditions and beliefs and that the Book of Common Prayer was indeed a revolution in worship. But, as Bryan Spinks has established, the English liturgy also evolved through “experimentation and a planned series of orders”. He understands the first step of this gradual process to be the “Order of Communion” of 1548, I would contend that, in fact, the first phase of this gradual development can be traced to the 1530s and 1540s.4 Not only is the emphasis on continuity in worship central to understanding the developments of Anglican liturgy over the course of the 16th and 17th century, it is also a useful concept when looking at the creation of the Book of Common Prayer.5 The notion of experiential continuity can indeed help explain why the revolutionary change of 1549 was quite readily accepted by the English people. This very issue goes to the heart of the underlying anthropological dimension of liturgical practice: rites and rituals provide meaning, shape communities and connect the present with the past and the living with the dead. 4 The relation between the evolution of the liturgy under Henry and the content of the Book of Common Prayer remains hopelessly complex and untidy. The liturgical experimentations of the later years of Henry’s reign heralded some of the features implemented in the new liturgy while other Henrician innovations were abandoned or watered down, in particular as concerned the focus on the king’s supremacy within liturgical texts. And finally, the most enduring change concerned the function of the liturgy: in this respect, developments and experiments instigated under Henry became staple features of Reformed worship.

Henrician innovations carried over into the Book of Common Prayer

5 Amongst the liturgical developments of the 1530s and 1540s, three found their way into the Reformed liturgy of Edward’s reign.

6 The best-known prayer published under Henry VIII and still in use, almost unchanged in Edward’s reign, is certainly the new litany of 1544.6 In tone and emphasis, Archbishop Cranmer’s litany in the vernacular departed radically from the late medieval devotional practice known as the letania which centred on the intercession of the saints. The long list of saints was removed with merely a reference to Mary and saints in general maintained. The prayer was entirely translated into English and preceded by a homiletic text entitled An Exhortation to Prayer. The use of the vernacular and the emphasis on sincerity and understanding as an assurance of efficacy are remarkably consistent with Cranmer’s later understanding of the role and function of the liturgy. 7 A cursory foray into the matter would suggest that in some parishes the 1544 litany was still in use at the start of Edward’s reign. One parish effected manuscript changes to the intercessory section of the litany to pray for Edward instead of Henry and rectified the passage which mentioned Prince Edward to reflect the latter’s accession to the throne.7 Interestingly, the mention of Mary, the angels and the saints are also

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deleted from the text, thus aligning it perfectly with the version of the litany published in the 1549 Prayer Book.8 This example shows how liturgical texts could be recycled and adapted to circumstances when a concern for thrift was paired with a desire to conform. 8 Most commentators agree that the structure of the prayer at the altar which immediately follows the Preface in the 1549 eucharistic liturgy is mainly derived from the Sarum , and Cranmer once inadvertently referred to the consecration prayer as the “canon”.9 Regardless of the similarities in structure, the theological underpinnings of the two texts are at variance, in particular as concerns the doctrine of the sacrifice of the mass, a notion which was whole-heartedly rejected by the Reformers. 9 But the ecclesiological content of the text is also slightly different since in the Latin rite, the priest presented the holy offerings: on behalf of thy holy Catholic Church which do vouchsafe to keep in peace, to guard, to unite, and to govern, throughout the whole world; together with thy servants our Pope N. and our bishop N. That is to say the bishop of the diocese only, then shall follow and our King N and all who are orthodox, and who hold the catholic and apostolic faith.10 10 In the first and second Books of Common Prayer, this passage is vastly expanded and the order of the intercession is altered: the prayers are offered to God, beseeching Him to inspire continually the universal church, the king and his council and to give grace to “all Bishoppes, Pastors, and Curates”, to comfort all whom suffer and finally to have mercy on the local congregation. In a reversal of the old medieval order, the king (and his council) come before the bishops and the rest of the clergy.

11 Such liturgical implementation of the royal supremacy was first introduced under Henry’s reign. In a considerable portion of the surviving missals, the word papa is removed from the canon as it is from elsewhere in the service books. But, in about forty percent of all missals amended under Henry VIII, this very section of the canon was rewritten so as to reflect the advent of the royal supremacy along with its revised ecclesiology. Hence, the king was named before the bishop. These changes were often effected in several stages, the successive alterations to the canon of the mass being a tangible illustration of the gradualism of liturgical change under Henry. That this new practice had become established is further evidenced in the Rationale for Ceremonial written by a committee of bishops, including several stalwart conservatives.11 The Henrician practice of naming the king before the bishops provides the missing link to explain this minor yet symbolic shift in order. 12 Finally, the daily use of a collect for the sovereign, which has remained a hallmark of the Anglican liturgy to this day, was in fact introduced by Thomas Cranmer as early as April 1534, months before Parliament passed the Act of Supremacy. The archbishop required that, in his Province, all members of the clergy recite the three orisons (collect, secret and post-communion in the Latin terminology) for the King and for Queen Anne at mass every day. This was certainly thought of as an early means to ensure the clergy’s heartfelt commitment to the royal supremacy and to the king’s marriage to Anne. 13 In practice, an ad-hoc version of this mass was adopted in the dioceses of Hereford and Worcester. The king’s title of supreme head of the church is explicitly mentioned in the collect:

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We beseech thee, almighty and merciful God, that thy servant our king Henry the Eighth, on earth supreme head of the English church, who through Thy mercy hath undertaken the government of the kingdom, and your servant Anne, our queen, may also be endued plenteously with all virtues; that being therewith meetly arrayed, they may by thy grace be enabled to rejoice in bodily health, escape the whirlpool of vice, overcome their enemies, and that he may govern human things peacefully and that his life may be as happy as possible so that when the course of this life is passed, he may finally attain unto thee, who art the way, the truth, and the life.12 14 If the principle of praying daily for the king at the sacrament of the altar finds its theological justification in the Pauline entreaty to pray for civilian authorities, it also has a more immediate foundation in a practice established and enforced under Henry VIII. Yet the content of the prayer in the Book of Common Prayer of 1549 is not strictly identical to that of its forerunner: the reference to the king’s supreme headship of the church is watered down in the 1549 : Edward is invoked as “king and governour”. The same choice of words was retained in all the ensuing versions.13 This example is indicative of the very point where the theology of the Book of Common Prayer parts ways with some Henrician innovations which were narrowly focused on promoting the royal supremacy to the clergy and the realm at large.

Deviations from Henrician practice

15 Several prayers and liturgical practices established under Henry VIII were aimed solely at ensuring political loyalty and uniting the realm in prayer for the sovereign. This is particularly true of the new bidding prayers of 1534 and 1536. Archbishop Cranmer banned the rambling, profusely detailed, didactic and eminently parochial bidding of the bedes of the late Middle Ages and replaced them with a streamlined prayer in which the royal supremacy stood front and centre.14 The Henrician bidding prayers do not appear in the 1549 liturgy but rather the communal prayer of old may well have contributed to the beginning of the prayer at the altar which is also a prayer for the church militant:

F0 F0 5B … 5D We humbly beseche thee moste mercyfully to receive these our praiers, which we offre unto thy divine Majestie, beseching thee to inspire continually the universal churche, with the spirite of trueth, unitie, and concorde: And graunt that al they that do confesse thy holy name, maye agree in the trueth of thy holye worde, and in live in unitie and godly love. Speciallye we beseech thee to save and defende thy servaunt, Edwarde our Kyng, that under hym we maye be Godly and quietly governed. And grant unto his whole consaile, and to that he put in authoritie under hym, that they maye truely and indifferently minister justice, to the punishmente of wickedness and vice, and to the maintenaunce of Goddes true religion and vertue. Geve grace (O hevenly father) to all Bishoppes, Pastors and Curates, that thei maie bothe by their life and doctrine set furthe thy true and lively F0 F0 worde and rightely and duely adminster thy holy Sacramentes 5B … 5D And we most humby beseche thee of thy goodnes (O Lorde) to coumfort and succour all them, whyche in thys transytory life be in trouble, sorowe, nede, sycknes, or any other adversitie.15 16 Indeed, this long passage bears little resemblance to the Sarum canon of the mass and is rather suggestive of the old bidding prayers with its didactic emphasis on the duties and obligations of all members of society:

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Ye shall knell down on your kneis and praie devoutle and mekle to the Fader, the Son and the Holi Gost, three persons and on Gode: to the holy made the moder seynt Marye, and to all the holy court of hevene, specialy for the state and pees of all holy churche and all Crysten kyngdoms and especeiall for the kyngdom of Yglond, that Jhu Crist of heven and prynce of pees graunte rest, unite and pees amonge all Cristen pepyll. Ye shall praie also for the pope of Roome speciali and all his cardinall, for the Patryake of Jerusalem, for owr lorde and fader the erchebyshope of Canterbury and for owr fader the bysshope of London and all other erchebisshope and bisshope, speciali of this londe, that Crist geve hem myth and strengthe to mayntene the Staat and lawe of holy Chirche, and for to rewll well hemself and after that prestes and clerkes and all men and women of order and Cristen people Jesu to serve and plees. […] Also ye shule praye spicialy for the patron and for the parson of this chirche and for all the prestes and clerkes whiche servene Gode in this chirche or in any other, that Gode of his myche mercy hem helpe and mayntene to his worshype, and graunte hem grace so to do in this worlde, that it may be the savacion of here soules and of alle Cristene folk. […] Also yee shall pray hertely for our leggh lorde, Kynge of Ingelond, and for our lady the Quene, and for our prynce whom Crist save gostly; for dukes, erlis, barons knyghtes, squyers, and for all gude communers of this lond, that God yeve hem alle grace so to do and orden so, that it be so soveraynlly likynge to hym and profyt and salvacion of his londe. […] Yee shule also pray specialy for the welfayr and prosperite of this worshipefule cyte of London, for my ryth worship and reverente maister our maier, with all my maisters his bretherne aldermen: for the schereffys and all other offycers and dwellers in the shame (same); and specially for oure parishioners here present, yche man prayeth for other and for tham which be absent and walde be present and may gnoth: and for tham that may and wil noth, that God amende tham: and speciale for seek and all that er desesyd in body or in soule, that God of gudnes conforte tham gostly and bodely: and for women that ben with cheldern, that God graunte to tham e gud delyveraunce and purificacion, to there childern crystendome and confirmacion.16 17 It is likely that the very bidding prayers which might have inspired the prayer for the church militant has not survived but the broad similarities in tone and emphasis suggest a connection. This hypothesis is bolstered by the change in the organisation of the eucharistic liturgy implemented in the second Book of Common Prayer: the intercessory passage is moved out of the institution narrative and stands immediately after the homily, hence closer to the place of the bidding of the bedes in the Sarum liturgy. The reason why, in this case, the Henrician bidding prayers was jettisoned may be its over-emphasis on the royal supremacy while the Edwardian liturgy marks the return of a general intercessory prayer which is more inclusive and communal in tone and didactic in content, two hallmarks of reformed worship in England. It is also a clear-cut case of continuity in worship and liturgical recycling of medieval texts in the Book of Common Prayer.

Changing the function of worship

18 Changes in the function of worship are perhaps the most significant examples of how worship in English parish churches moved away from the Catholic tradition into Protestant territory. It also bolsters the claim that liturgical experimentation of the 1540s informed the radically new liturgies of Edward’s reign.

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19 Ramie Targoff has aptly summarized one of the anxieties at the core of the Edwardian Reformation: “English Reformers worried openly about the desirability of encouraging physical signs and gestures as part of the worshipper’s practice of prayer”.17 It is well known that between 1549 and 1552, the ritual actions of the liturgy were gradually pared down and worship became less of a performative rite. This is particularly clear in the well-rehearsed changes effected to the baptismal liturgy.18 However, the first steps in this direction were taken under Henry’s reign, as exemplified in the treatment of sacramentals in the doctrinal pronouncements of Henry’s church. 20 In the strictest sense, a sacramental is defined as a prayer, a ritual or an object instituted or acknowledged by the Church, such as the use of , holy bread, blessed candles, ashes, etc. Sacramentals share a common efficacy with good works as they prepare the soul to receive grace.19 Worthy reception of sacramentals grants remission of venial sin along with spiritual or material graces. The liturgy of sacramentals usually subtly combines complex deprecatory phrases, assertions of spiritual efficacy and demands for apotropaic and prophylactic benefits. At the turn of the 16th century, these rituals remained popular and were considered an important aspect of Christian devotion.20 21 To take but one example, at Sunday mass, the priest exorcised salt and water, before mixing and blessing these elements which constitute holy water. In this prayer, three types of requests were made: for spiritual benefits (the salvation of the believers, the gift of the Holy Spirit), for material blessings (good health) and for apotropaic favours which were expected from the blessed elements (chasing evil and demons). The blessing itself presents several layers of meaning: the allegorical reminder of Christ’s baptism and Elisha’s healing of a spring with salt, and the symbolic reference to the water used in baptism and the eucharist. But emphasis is firmly placed on the performative powers of the liturgical formulae; the assurance was given that holy water healed soul and body, purified places and put the devil to rout. In fact, to a large extent, the liturgy legitimated the quasi-magical uses of holy water, thus creating the mix of superstition and accepted religious beliefs which Eamon Duffy has termed ‘lay Christianity’.21 Prophylactic use of the sacramental was very common, as it served as a remedy for many ills, and criticism of such usage must be carefully scrutinized as it often served polemical purposes.22 In truth, holy water was the most sought after and regularly used sacramental until the 1530s. 22 Under Henry, however, the meaning of sacramentals was deeply altered. In the “Ten Articles” of 1536, they are treated as symbols, justifying a purely allegorical understanding of the ceremony: ‘sprinkling of holy water [is] to put us in remembrance of our baptism, and the sprinkled for our redemption upon the cross’.23 The general understanding of sacramentals is subtly refashioned, as they are to be used and continued as things good and laudable, to put us in remembrance of those spiritual things that they do signify; not suffering them to be forgot, or to be put in oblivion, but renewing them in our memories from time to time. But none of these ceremonies have power to remit sin, but only to stir and lift up our minds unto God, by whom only our sins be forgiven.24 23 The new teaching on sacramentals constituted a radical simplification of the multiple layers of meanings conveyed by the Latin texts. The clergy were thus required to use these rituals all the while explaining that they were not efficacious of themselves but merely reminders of higher spiritual realities.

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24 Liturgical rituals became teachable moments and were kept for their catechetical value and to preserve public order. This hermeneutic evolution necessarily translated into liturgical practice, since performing the same rituals while expecting them to mean something different would necessarily create a disjunction. 25 Some members of the clergy were thus exploring new ways of meaningfully performing these rituals. It appears that Hugh Latimer, a committed Reformer and later a victim of Marian persecutions, encouraged the clergy of his diocese to use a new text in the vernacular when performing the rite of sprinkling holy water on the faithful: Remember your promise in baptisme, Christ his mercy and bloudshedding, By whose most holy sprinkeling Of al your sinnes you haue free pardoning.25 26 This work would probably have replaced the Asperges me ritual. Here, the new teaching on the sacramentals was duly channelled through the purely allegorical treatment of holy water. The ritual was interpreted as a reminder of baptism and the water stood in the stead of the holy blood of Christ which alone granted forgiveness and salvation: in Latimer’s verses, the phrase ‘most holy sprinkling’ applied to the blood of Christ on the cross, of which the water was a mere sign. This example goes to show that in the more evangelical parishes of the diocese of Worcester, the liturgical texts accompanying the ritual of holy water might have evolved significantly in the late 1530s at the behest of one of the more radical reforming bishops. And the use of a text very similar to this one is attested at Arlingham in Latimer’s diocese.26

27 The issue of efficacy in the liturgy was not circumscribed to these ceremonies, as some of the seven sacraments came to be considered in much the same light as sacramentals: confession, confirmation and extreme unction were omitted from the Ten Articles and later described in the Bishops’ Book and the King’s Book as efficacious when received worthily. The notion of worthy reception was already altering the traditional teaching on sacraments long before the Protestant Reformation took hold in England. 28 Finally, liturgical practice starkly divided conservatives from evangelicals and threatened the unity of parishes For instance, disputes over the use of holy water were front and centre in the 1543 inquiry into Kentish heretics. Conservatives encouraged traditional understanding and practice27 while evangelicals stopped blessing water, banned their parishioners from using it, indeed sometimes mocked this practice.28 Contestation of sacramentals peaked when radical laymen and women rejected these traditional rites. Members of the Toftes family of Northgate, Canterbury engaged in illegal iconoclasm, refused to bear palms and to creep to the cross, read the Bible aloud in church, declared images to be devils, threatened to set fire to the church and harboured people who had ‘made themselves priests and were none.’29 Margaret Toftes the younger declared that “her daughter could piss as good holy water as the priest could make any” and warned the parish clerk's servant not to bring any holy water to her house saying the water in her well was as good.30 29 The extent and limits of the influence of later Henrician practices and experiments shed light on the roots of some of Anglican idiosyncrasies while revealing much about the differences between Henry’s and Edward’s brands of Reformation. The Edwardian Reformation is rightly seen as infinitely broader and more spiritual in nature than the ecclesiological revolution of the 1530s. However different, the two moments can also be seen as a continuous process by which the English reformers were weaning the English

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from the Catholic liturgy: implementing change gradually, undermining traditional rites before removing them completely and often, in the phrase of Diarmaid MacCulloch “promoting reform within the shell of traditional forms”. 30 Willingly or not, Henry had set this process into motion well before his death. Indeed, the king’s policy of compromise, by authorising traditional practices while shifting their meaning, inadvertently created a growing disjunction between prayer and doctrine, weakening people’s trust in the liturgy. Along with acceptance that the king had the authority to approve if not define acceptable forms of worship for his Church, came the idea that the liturgy was contingent and its content no longer immutable. Finally, without meaning to sound despondent, it is my understanding that the challenge levelled at the liturgy contributed to its demise as a source of faith. In fact, the growth of the king’s control over the liturgy dovetailed the decline of trust in the power of prayer. The combination of these two factors may contribute to the ongoing conversation about the origins of the Edwardian Reformation and help explain why the wholesale revision and translation of the liturgy was more readily accepted by most English people in 1549 than might have been expected in view of the strength of the Catholic faith on the eve of the Reformation.31

NOTES

1. See Introduction, note 1 and 6. 2. Charles Whitworth, “The Penitential Psalms and Ash Wednesday Services in the Book of Common Prayer, 1549-1662”, in this volume. 3. Bryan D. Spinks, “Treasures Old and New: A Look at Some of Thomas Cranmer’s Methods of Liturgical Compilation”, Thomas Cranmer: Churchman and Scholar, ed. Paul Ayris and David Selwyn (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1993). See the same author’s Reformation and Modern Rituals and of Baptism: from Luther to Contemporary Practices (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006). Alec Ryrie’s quotation is taken from a lecture delivered in Carlisle Cathedral for the celebration the 350th anniversary of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer. The lecture can be found http:// alecryrie.blogspot.fr/2012/09/the-prayer-book-at-carlisle.html 4. Bryan D. Spinks, “Treasures Old and New”, op. cit., 176 5. See in this volume: Claire Cross, “The political enforcement of liturgical continuity in the Church of England 1558-1662”. 6. An exhortation vnto prayer thought mete by the kinges maiestie, and his clergy, to be read to the people in euery church afore processyions. Also a letanie with suffrages to be said or song in the tyme of the said processyons, London: Berthelet, 1544 (STC 10620). For a thorough and brief examination of the Litany, see Diarmaid MacCulloch, Thomas Cranmer, A Life (New Haven & London: Yale, 1996), 328-332. See also Proctor and Frere, A New History of the BCP, op. cit., 405-429 for a historical overview of the use of the litany in the Church and Roger Bowers. “The Vernacular Litany of 1544 During the Reign of Henry VIII” in Authority and Consent in Tudor England, ed. G.W. Bernard & S. J. Gunn (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002), 151-178. 7. An exhortation vnto prayer… Also a letanie, London: Berthelet, 1544, STC 10622 (available on EEBO), fo. B v. 8. ibid. fo. B ii.

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9. Diarmaid MacCulloch, Cranmer, op. cit., 413. 10. The English translation is taken from The Sarum Missal in English, trans. Fredetick E. Warren (London: De La More Press, 1911), part I, 42. The original Latin reads: “In primis quæ tibi offerimus pro ecclesia tua sancta Catholica, quam pacificare, custodire, adunare et regere digneris toto orbe terrarum, una cum famulo tuo Papa nostro N. et Antistite nostroN. (id est proprio episcopo tantum) et Rege nostro N. (et dicuntur nominatim) Sequatur et omnibus orthodoxis atque catholicæ et apostolicæ fidei cultoribus.” For a modern edition of the Sarum missal, Missale ad usum insignis et praeclare ecclesiae Sarum, ed. F.H. Dickinson (Bruntisland: E Prelo de Pitsligo, 1861-1883), col. 613-614. 11. C. S. Cobb, ed., The Rationale of Ceremonial or Book of Ceremonies, Alcuin Club Collections (London Longman, 1910), 24. 12. The translation is mine. The original Latin text is found added to two Hereford missals (Oxford, Bodleian, Arch. B. c.6 and Oxford, St John’s College, Cpbd.b.2.upper shelf.1). A similar mass is found in the missal which belonged to Hereford Cathedral (Worcester Cathedral Library MS F161). For a modern edition of the text, see Missale ad usum percelebris ecclesiae Herefordensis, F0 F0 op.cit., p. iii-iv: Quaesumus, omnipotens et misericors Deus, ut famulus 5B tuus 5D rex noster Henricus octavus, in terris ecclesiae Anglicanae supremum caput, qui tua miseratione suscepit regni gubernacula, et famula tua Anna, regina nostra, virtutum omnium percipiat incrementa ; quibus decenter ornati corporis incolumitate gaudere et vitiorum voraginem devitare, hostes superare, ac in tranquilla pace dum in humanis agent, tam feliciter possint sua tempora pertransire, ut post hujus vite decursum, ad te qui via, veritas, et vita es, gratiosi valeant pervenire. 13. Brian Cummings, ed., The Book of Common Prayer, 21 (1549), 126 (1552 and 1559) and 391-2 (1662) 14. BL, MS Cotton, Cleopatra V, fo 286. For a slightly different version of this text see the injunctions in Latin sent to monasteries: BL MS Cleopatra IV fo. 11v. “First, Whosoever shall preach in the presence of the king’s highness and the queen’s grace, shall in the bidding of the beads, pray for the whole catholic church of Christ, as well quick as dead, and specially for the catholic church of this realm: and first, as we be most bounden, for our sovereign lord king Henry the VIIIth, being immediately next unto God the only and supreme head of this catholic church of England, and for the most gracious lady queen Anne his wife; and for the lady Elizabeth, daughter and heir to them both, our princess, and no further. Item, The preacher in all other places of this realm, than in the presence of the king’s said highness and the queen’s grace, shall, in the bidding of the beads, pray first in manner and form, and word for word, as is above ordained and limited; adding thereunto in the second part, for all archbishops and bishops, and for all the whole clergy of this realm; and specially for such as shall please the preacher to name in his devotion: and thirdly, for all dukes, earls, marquisses, and for all the whole temporality of this realm; and specially for such as the preacher shall name of devotion: and finally for the souls of all them that be dead, and specially of such as it shall please the preacher to name.” 15. ibid., 31 (1549). 16. These bidding prayers are taken from British Library Harleian MS 335. For a modern edition, see Manuale et Processionale ad usum insignis ecclesiae eboracensis (, 1875), 223*-225*. 17. Ramie Targoff, Common Prayer: The Language of Public Devotion in Early Modern England (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2001), 9. 18. This methodology is typical of Cranmer’s approach to liturgical reform and a similar evolution may be observed in the rite of baptism between 1549 and 1552. At first several distinctive ritual elements were kept: an exorcism, the triple effusion, the white garment, the annointing and the blessing of holy water in the font.

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The language used in the first BCP was still somewhat performative (“I commaunde thee, uncleane spirite, in the name of the father, of the sonne, and of the holy ghost, that thou come out, and departe from these infants”). But these ritual aspects were forsaken in the 1552 BCP with only one brief mention of the water in the liturgy but no blessing or sacring of the element. 19. The Ordynary of Christen men, sig. C ii. 20. Eamon Duffy, The Stripping of the Altars, op. cit., 277-287. 21. Eamon Duffy, The Stripping of the Altars, op. cit., 283 22. The use of holy water as a remedy for piles is condemned (Letters and Papers, xviii, (ii) (546), 293). Drinking holy water is forbidden in the King’s Book and sprinkling it on beds banned in Cranmer’s 1547 Injunctions to his diocese (Lloyd, Formularies of Faith, op.cit., 298, and Visitation Articles and Injunctions, op. cit., 187). 23. Formularies of Faith, xxviii. 24. Ibid. 25. John Foxe, Acts and Monuments (London, 1563), 1417, see The Unabridged Acts and Monuments Online (1563), available from : www.johnfoxe.org. 26. See Arlingham Breviary, Salisbury Cathedral MS 152. For a modern edition of the prayer used during the sprinkling of holy water see H.T. Kingdon’s “On an early vernacular service,”The Wiltshire Archeological and Natural History Magazine XVIII n° LII: 62-70. I disagree with his view that this is a late 15th century text which inspired Hugh Latimer’s revised ritual. 27. Letters and Papers, xviii, (ii) (546), 296, 300, 308 28. Ibid., 295, 291, 306-7, 311. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid., 307. 31. The question of the causes of the success of Edward’s Reformation is at the heart of the work of post-revisionist historians of the Reformation. See Ethan Shagan, Popular Politics and the English Reformation (Cambridge: CUP, 2002), 2; Alex Ryrie, The Gospel and Henry VIII: Evangelicals in the Early English Reformation (Cambridge: CUP, 2003), 7.

ABSTRACTS

The multiple sources of the first two versions of the Book of Common Prayer have received a lot of attention from scholars. Thomas Cranmer, who was their principal compiler, had indeed turned to diverse texts for inspiration: the Sarum rite of his province of Canterbury and Scripture were obvious sources, as were the several ancient liturgical traditions of which the archbishop had knowledge. This article however explores more immediate origins for the English liturgies, i.e. the new practices created at the end of Henry VIII’s reign. After the break with Rome and the passing of the Act of Supremacy of 1534, liturgical experiments were rife in England as the regime harnessed public prayer to advertise the royal supremacy and the clergy responded by adapting the Catholic liturgy to the new ecclesiology and the revised doctrinal pronouncements. Several of the new prayers composed under Henry were included in the Book of Common Prayer, albeit in a slightly modified version (bidding of the bedes, 1543 litany). Moreover, changes in the clergy’s liturgical habits also shed light on the origins of some passages found in the Edwardian liturgies.

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This article also seeks to illuminate one of the most enduring historiographical issues relating to the English Reformation: why was the wholesale liturgical reform of 1549 so readily accepted or tolerated by a majority of the English people? A better understanding of how the Henrician Reformation redefined the status of the liturgy may contribute to explaining the success of the Edwardian liturgical reforms, for public prayer had lost its status as an immutable and trustworthy depository of faith and had become a text which could be reformed at will by the government.

Les sources du Book of Common Prayer sont nombreuses et ont été largement étudiées par historiens et liturgistes: Thomas Cranmer, principal auteur de la version de 1549 a, en effet, trouvé son inspiration dans les Ecritures, le rite de Salisbury (Sarum) et les diverses traditions liturgiques dont il avait une fine connaissance. Mais les expérimentations liturgiques qui eurent cours sous le règne d’Henri VIII, à la suite du schisme de 1534, ont également influencé la composition de certains passages de la nouvelle liturgie. Le régime d’Henri VIII a exploité la liturgie comme moyen de communication pour faire connaître la suprématie royale. Le clergé a servi de courroie de transmission et promptement mis en œuvre cette nouvelle ecclésiologie Or certaines de ces nouvelles prières, comme les oraisons pour le roi et les nouvelles prières d’intercession, composées afin d’introduire la suprématie royale dans la prière de l’Eglise sont ensuite introduites dans les deux éditions successives du Book of Common Prayer. Enfin, plus largement, les effets des expérimentations liturgiques des dix dernières années du règne d’Henri VIII peuvent contribuer à éclairer une des questions historiographiques les plus fondamentales de l’étude du début de la Réforme en Angleterre : pourquoi et comment cette révolution liturgique fut-elle si aisément acceptée dans le royaume ? La conception de la liturgie comme un dépôt de la foi avait été érodée par la tolérance de pratiques hétérodoxes et par la remise en question par le régime lui-même de cette source dogmatique.

INDEX

Mots-clés: Réforme anglaise, Henri VIII, liturgie, Book of Common Prayer Keywords: English Reformation, Henry VIII, liturgy, Book of Common Prayer

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The Penitential Psalms and Ash Wednesday Services in the Book of Common Prayer, 1549-1662 Les psaumes pénitentiels et les offices du mercredi des Cendres dans le Book of Common Prayer, 1549-1662

Charles Whitworth

1 Book of Common Prayer, psaumes pénitentiels, liturgie, Carême

2 Beside the gradual, incremental process by which the English Church shifted from a Catholic to a reformed liturgy in Henry’s and Edward’s reigns, preserving some measure of experiential continuum, another aspect of liturgical continuity can be seen in the way in which the successive liturgical revisions, especially after 1552, sometimes introduced renewed closeness to medieval liturgical usage. The 1559 conservative revision of the words of administration of Holy Communion is a well-known example (see Claire Cross’s paper in this volume), but there are other, more rarely studied examples. One is provided by the revisions of the Ash Wednesday liturgy and the fate of the penitential psalms. From the Sarum rite through the successive revisions of the Prayer Book up to 1662, the sense that the English liturgy has to some extent come full circle — away from the Middle Ages and then moving back a little closer to it — is striking. After Morning Prayer, the Litany ended according to the accustomed manner, the Priest shall, in the Reading-Pew or Pulpit, say: BRETHREN, in the Primitive Church there was a godly discipline, that, at the beginning of , such persons as stood convicted of notorious sin were put to open penance, and punished in this world, that their souls might be saved in the day of the Lord; and that others, admonished by their example, might be the more afraid to offend. Instead whereof, until the said discipline may be restored again, (which is much to be wished,) it is thought good, that at this time (in the presence of you all) should be read the general sentences of God’s cursing against impenitent sinners … and that ye should answer to every Sentence, Amen: To the intent that, being admonished of the great indignation of God against sinners, ye may the rather be

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moved to earnest and true repentance; and may walk more warily in these dangerous days; fleeing from such vices, for which ye affirm with your own mouths the curse of God to be due. 3 That is the beginning, in the Prayer Book of 1662, of the service of ‘Commination, or denouncing of God’s anger and judgements against sinners, with certain prayers, to be used on the first day of Lent, and at other times, as the Ordinary shall appoint’. It is still there today 350 years later, in just those words, in reprints of the Book of Common Prayer. The title for this special Ash Wednesday service, ‘A Commination’, from the Latin comminari, to threaten or menace (or in an ecclesiastical context, to anathematize), is first used in the second Edwardian Prayer Book of 1552. Indeed, that is the first occurrence recorded in OED of the word in its strict liturgical connotation. The explanatory gloss, ‘or denouncing of God’s anger and judgements against sinners’, was added to the rubric in 1662. 1552 and 1559 just read ‘A Commination against sinners, with certain prayers to be used divers times of the year’. On the other hand, 1549 does specify ‘the first day of Lent, commonly called Ash Wednesday’; the first half of the phrase, ‘the first day of Lent’, was restored in 1662. Archbishop Grindal, in Elizabeth’s reign, instructed that the service be used at least four times in the year. We might also note here that in the direction from 1662 quoted above, ‘After Morning Prayer, the Litany ended …’, all the earlier books, 1549, 1552, and 1559, specified ‘the ENGLISH litany shall be read’; in 1662, there was no longer any need for such specificity: no other Litany could have been intended. We recall that Thomas Cranmer had produced an English litany in 1544, five years before the first Book of Common Prayer.

4 The celebration of the beginning of Lent, the season of before Easter, and the anointment of penitents with ashes as a sign of humility, were a very ancient custom, dating from the time of the primitive church, as the opening sentence quoted above indicates. Gratian, the twelfth-century canon lawyer, describes the ceremony in his Concordia discordantium canonum: On the first day of Lent, the penitents were to present themselves before the bishop, clothed with sackcloth, with naked feet, and with eyes turned to the ground; and this was to be done in the presence of the clergy of the diocese, who were to judge of the sincerity of their repentance. These introduced them into the church, where the bishop, in tears, and the rest of the clergy, repeated the seven penitential psalms. Then, rising from prayers, they threw ashes upon them, and covered their heads with sackcloth … Then the bishop commanded the officers to turn them out of the church doors; and all the clergy followed after, repeating that curse upon Adam, In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy bread. The like penance was inflicted upon them the next time the Sacrament was administered, which was the Sunday following.1 5 We see here that the seven psalms were already—whatever the precise epoch in which the service described took place—an integral part of the Ash Wednesday liturgy.

6 By far the most widely used liturgy by the early sixteenth-century in England (and beyond), and the one preferred by Archbishop Cranmer, was the (Salisbury). It was adopted by cathedral chapters as far north as Lincoln, and had spread to Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and even Portugal by the twelfth century.2 The Sarum Missal provides considerable detail about the Ash Wednesday rites—the ones that Cranmer would have had clearly in mind when he set about composing the service for the new Prayer Book of 1549. The English translation of the Sarum Missal demonstrates clearly the longstanding medieval practice, as Gratian recorded it, including the literal thrusting out of the penitents at the church door. But it is the

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opening rubric that is of immediate interest: ‘After Sexts there may be a sermon to the people. After which let the Clergy prostrate themselves in the and say the seven Penitential Psalms, with the anthem Remember not, Lord, our offences …’ 3 The seven Penitential Psalms had obviously been a fixed part of the Ash Wednesday liturgy since the early Middle Ages. Their inclusion was perpetuated in the successive versions of the Book of Common Prayer, though in various ways, as we shall see, one of many elements retained from the old Roman practice in the new Church of England service. 7 The designation of seven of the 150 psalms as a group, known as the Penitential Psalms, dates from the early centuries of the medieval church. It is far from certain who first proposed the grouping or why, or when they became commonly recognized and accepted as a discrete group. As early at least as Cassiodorus in the mid-sixth century, perhaps as early as the fifth, during the lifetime of St. Augustine (the designation is sometimes attributed to him), perhaps even the fourth (St. Ambrose) the Penitential Psalms were recognized as a group, though they are far from uniform in content or tone.4 The seven are, in the numbering of the Hebrew (Masoretic Text) and translations deriving from it, including the Great Bible and subsequent English versions: Psalms 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, and 143 (the and the Latin counted Psalms 9 and 10 as one; hence the numbering from that point on is one less than in the Hebrew and its derivatives. E.g., 51 is 50, 130 is 129, etc.). At the risk of over- determining, we may notice a certain symmetry in the apparently random choice of psalms in the group, despite their diverse forms and contents, if we consider the Latin titles, that is the first few words of each psalm, titles which are to this day given along with the number, in the Book of Common Prayer: 6 Domine, ne in furore 32 Beati, quorum 38 Domine, ne in furore 51 Miserere mei, Deus 102 Domine, exaudi 130 De profundis 143 Domine, exaudi 8 That is, two psalms beginning Domine, ne in furore frame the Beati quorum, and two others beginning Domine, exaudi frame the De profundis. The two triptychs in turn frame the central Miserere mei, Deus, the most famous and most often cited, quoted and paraphrased of the seven (and the one continuous presence among the seven in Ash Wednesday offices over the centuries).5 All four framing psalms begin with an address to God, Domine. Mere coincidence or a determining factor in the original designation of the seven psalms? One may be tempted to suspect the latter, given the medieval ‘rage for order’, the penchant for organizing, ordering, classifying, systematizing, evident in works of philosophy and theology as well as rhetoric and logic, so well described by C.S. Lewis.6

9 Both before and after the Reformation, paraphrases and commentaries on the seven psalms abounded. Gregory the Great in the sixth century was supposed to have composed a commentary (it is now considered spurious), and Alcuin of York in the eighth did compose one specifically on the Penitential Psalms. In the early fifteenth century, two distinguished women, in France and in England, wrote commentaries on them in their respective vernaculars: Christine de Pisan and Dame Eleanor Hull.7 Hull’s is a translation from Old French. Even earlier, in the first half of the fourteenth century, the prolific Yorkshire mystic Richard Rolle produced an English prose version

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of the entire psalter, with verse-by-verse commentary based on that of Augustine’s Enarrationes.8 John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester and Chancellor of Cambridge University published his commentaries on the seven psalms in 1508; they were reprinted seven times in the next twenty years. Fisher was martyred for his opposition to Henry VIII in June 1535, just two weeks before his friend Sir Thomas More followed him on the scaffold.9 Later John Donne preached sermons on several of the Penitentials, and Lancelot Andrewes published devotional meditations on all seven. 10 Innumerable translations and paraphrases of the psalms in English were produced throughout the sixteenth century. The Reformation did nothing to dampen enthusiasm for the Old Testament poetry of David the poet-king (as it was generally believed that he was the author of all the psalms), including specifically the seven Penitentials, on the contrary. Martin Luther’s favourite ‘Pauline Psalms’ were four of the Penitentials: 32, 51, 130, 143. Behind the impetus of Luther, whose commentary on the seven was published in 1517, and of Calvin’s, then Clément Marot’s and Théodore de Bèze’s translations in the immensely influential Geneva Psalter, the psalms became even more widely read, translated, paraphrased, memorized, said and sung than ever before. Robert Crowley and Matthew Parker, Sir Philip Sidney and his sister Mary, Countess of Pembroke, and Sir John Harington in England, Marot and Bèze and Philippe Desportes in France, for example, all produced metrical versions of the complete Psalms. The first, partial, collection of the famous Metrical Psalms by Sternhold and Hopkins appeared in 1549 (complete version, 1562), the same year as Wyatt's Penitential Psalms and also Crowley's Psalter of David, the first complete English metrical translation, and of course of the first Edwardian Prayer Book. 11 The Tudor courtier and poet Sir Thomas Wyatt composed his powerful dramatic paraphrase of the seven psalms at the very height of the Henrician reforms. Certain psalms commonly called the VII penitential psalms, drawn into English meter was published at the end of the year 1549, seven years after the poet's death at the age of thirty-nine, with a prefatory sonnet by Wyatt's friend and fellow-poet, Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey; Surrey himself wrote a splendid verse paraphrase of Psalm 51 (before being beheaded on 19 January 1547, another victim of Henry’s last paroxysm of vengeance against the Howard clan, just nine days before the bloated tyrant himself died). Some or all of the Penitentials might be included in seemingly random selections of psalms. Such is the volume compiled by Sir John Croke about 1547, containing thirteen psalms, including all seven of the Penitentials, and the book of Ecclesiastes. Often, like Surrey, a poet would paraphrase a single, isolated Penitential Psalm. The Protestant playwright and polemicist John Bale included a verse rendition of the De profundis (Psalm 130) in his pamphlet An Expostulation or Complaint against the Blasphemies of a Frantic Papist of Hampshire (c.1552). Another notable example is the Elizabethan poet George Gascoigne's striking version of the same psalm. Gascoigne, like Wyatt, provides a dramatic frame in which to set his psalm paraphrase.10 Among the many others in England who paraphrased one or more of the Penitentials in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are William Byrd, King James I, Sir John Davies, Thomas Carew, Joseph Hall and John Milton. John Davies of Hereford (not Sir John Davies) published his The Doleful Dove: or, Davids 7. Penitentiall Psalmes, somewhere paraphrastically turned into Verse in 1612. The most curious of all is certainly William Hunnis’s massive and evidently hugely popular Seven Sobs of a Sorrowful Soule for Sinne: Comprehending those seven Psalmes of the Princelie Prophet David, commonlie called Pœnitentiall; framed into a forme of familiar praiers, and reduced into meeter, which appeared in 1583 and was reissued in

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1587, 1589, 1597, 1600, 1604, etc. until 1629. As might be expected, and feared, from the work's title, it is a staggering, monumental production: each of the seven psalms is divided into two or more 'parts', each part 'reduced' into anything from fifteen to fifty- four rhymed fourteener couplets (fourteener: archaic English meter, a heptameter line of seven iambic feet, or fourteen syllables). Psalm 51 (Miserere mei) has five parts, and at 300 fourteen-syllable lines, is clearly the centrepiece and centre of gravity of the entire work. The grand total of 1,210 heptameter lines—printed however as short alternating eight- and six-syllable lines—occupy 85 pages in small octavo. What might have been the greatest of all, poetically speaking, is lost: a paraphrase of the Penitential Psalms is listed among the works of Edmund Spenser. During the same period and after, many composers of the first rank set one or all of the Penitentials, from Andrea Gabrieli, Lassus, Byrd, Dowland and Schütz, to Locke, Blow, Purcell, Bach and Handel, to Mozart, Mendelssohn and Brahms. 12 But it is the place of the Penitential Psalms within the new Church of England services for Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, that is my subject. In 1549, the service for ‘the first day of Lent, commonly called Ash Wednesday’ begins ‘After mattens ended, the people being called together by the ringing of a bell, and assembled in the church; the English litany shall be said after the accustomed manner, which ended, the priest shall go into the pulpit and say thus: ‘Brethren, in the primitive church there was a godly discipline …’. In other words, exactly the text that would be reproduced in subsequent versions up to and including 1662, complete with the responsive maledictions; the latter were not part of the medieval rite, but a Cranmerian innovation. On the other hand, this is the only mention of bell-ringing in 1549, whereas the medieval services were full of bells; 1552 and 1559 both retain the bell. In January 1549, however, Cranmer announced to his bishops that Ash Wednesday ashes, as well as candles and palms would henceforth be banned.11 Then follows the rubric: ‘Then shall they all kneel upon their knees. And the priests and clerks kneeling where they are accustomed to say the litany, shall say this psalm: Miserere mei deus’. The English text in Coverdale’s Great Bible version follows. The Miserere mei, Psalm 51, is the sole survivor in the new vernacular Ash Wednesday service, of the seven Penitential Psalms recited in Latin by the clergy in the Sarum Use. It would remain so throughout the revisions of the following century. Despite the radical paring away of ritual—the Sarum text specifies which vestments in which colours shall be worn, where priest, and subdeacon are to stand and where to kneel, where the who holds the sackcloth banner shall be positioned; the clergy now kneeling rather than prostrating themselves; the absence of ashes, etc— a kernel, albeit a major one, the central psalm of the famous seven, survives. But in fact there is more. Turning to chapter iv of the 1549 book, ‘The , Collects, and Gospels to be used … through the year, with proper Psalms and Lessons, for divers feasts and days’, we find a special Psalm, a Collect, an and a Gospel for Communion on the first day of Lent, that is preceding the special Ash Wednesday service. The prescribed psalm is 6, the first of the Penitentials; the Epistle and Gospel are respectively, from Joel 2 and Matthew 6, that is the very texts set for Ash Wednesday in the Sarum Missal. Furthermore, two more of the Penitentials are set for Communion on the first and second Sundays in Lent: 32, Beati quorum for the first, and 130, De profundis for the second. Thus four of the seven psalms are prescribed in the new English Prayer Book for Ash Wednesday and the first two Sundays in Lent; there are rather more traces of the old rites in the new than at first appears.

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13 In 1552, despite radical revision of many parts of the book, the rubrics and text for Ash Wednesday remain the same, with Psalm 51 said by the priests and clerks kneeling. As has been noted, the title becomes ‘A Commination against Sinners’, following one of the recommendations made by Martin Bucer in a commissioned report on 1549. But 1552 specifies for the first day of Lent, in the section of Collects, Epistles and Gospels for certain feasts throughout the year, for the Epistle Joel 2.12-19, and for the Gospel Matthew 6.16-21, that is, again, the same texts specified for Ash Wednesday in the Sarum Missal and in 1549. They remain in 1662 and thus to this day, the Epistle and Gospel set for Ash Wednesday. The Introits are omitted entirely in 1552, so those other Penitential Psalms for the first two Sundays in Lent are not mentioned. Another important change in 1552 concerned the Litany, which became a separate, stationary performance preceding the Eucharist, and no longer a procession. This left only a small Easter procession, and the Ash Wednesday service as sole survivors of the numerous medieval processions, which had required an entire separate service book, the Processional. It is also enjoined in 1552 that the Litany shall be said on Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays, hence of course on Ash Wednesday, as is seen in the rubric ‘ After Morning Prayer, the Litany ended according to the accustomed manner …’. As we know, the 1552 Prayer Book had hardly been put in use, late in the year, when Mary succeeded to the throne a few months later and it was banned, to be revived more or less intact when Elizabeth in turn succeeded in 1558. 14 The Elizabethan Book of Common Prayer was promulgated by the 1559 Act of Uniformity, following the five-year Marian interlude, in which the medieval rite had been restored, along with clerical vestments, processions, images, saints’ days and the Roman services. ‘1559 is a close relation to 1552, with small yet significant changes, e.g. to the words of distribution of the Eucharist and to the Litany’, according to Brian Cummings in the commentary to his recent edition of the texts of 1549, 1559 and 1662.12 The Commination service remained identical to that in 1549 and 1552. The licence granted by Bucer’s addition in 1552, recommending its use ‘at diverse times in the year’ seems to have resulted in its being used, in Elizabeth’s reign, on several Sundays before Easter (in continuation of the Lenten theme of penitence) and at other times, on Sundays before Whitsun and , for example (Cummings, 744). The so-called ‘Hampton Court’ revision of 1604 saw no changes to Ash Wednesday services or to the prescriptive use of the Penitential Psalms. The latter simply had their places in numerical order among the others in the monthly calendar of daily Psalm readings, some in the morning, some in the evening. 15 So we come at last to 1662 and the Restoration Prayer Book. The earliest versions of the Prayer Book had succeeded one another with dizzying rapidity, in one of the most dizzying and disruptive periods in English history: consider the mere decade, little more, from the death of Henry VIII in 1547 to the succession of his third heir, Elizabeth, in 1558. First issued in 1549, hastily revised and reissued in 1552, only to be supplanted and banned almost immediately by Mary in 1553, then restored in one of the first acts of her half-sister’s reign in 1559, the Book of Common Prayer had a childhood as perturbed as those of the sister queens who played such crucial roles in its varied fortunes. Banned by a Catholic queen in 1553, the Book of Common Prayer in its Elizabethan-Jacobean revision was in its turn banned by the Puritan Long Parliament less than a century later (1645). Finally restored in 1662, it has remarkably survived 350 years, never fully supplanted by late-twentieth-century alternatives. What was left

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then, what is left now, of its predecessors’ prescriptions for the use of the Penitential Psalms in the services for Ash Wednesday? Of course the glorious Coverdale Psalter is integrated in its entirety for the first time in 1662. So familiar had its language become that it could not be replaced, even by the of 1611; it still has not been.13 16 The Commination remains, more or less intact. The same ten curses are there, with Amen pronounced by ‘the people’ after each, except that the first has lost most of its iconoclastic fervour: ‘Cursed is the man that maketh any carved or molten image’, while clear, is less emphatic than 1552/59’s ‘Cursed is the man that maketh any carved, or molten image, an abomination to the Lord, the work of the hands of the craftsman, and putteth it in a secret place to worship it’. In the same vein, ‘worshipers of images’ in the final summary curse has become merely ‘idolaters’; they are lumped together with fornicators, adulterers, slanderers, drunkards, extortionists and the like. The summoning bell has been lost, but the people are to kneel as before, while the priest and the clerks, also kneeling, say the ever-present Miserere mei, in Coverdale’s version of course. Even the parenthetical—‘which thing is much to be wished’—i.e., that the discipline of open penance, as in Sarum, ‘may be restored again’ remains from 1549, as it had in all of the intervening revisions; another little touch of Cranmer’s, crouching there in parentheses through the centuries. 17 I must conclude, and we have come full circle. At the end of a section entitled ‘Proper Lessons and Psalms to be read at Morning and Evening Prayer on the Sundays and other Holidays throughout the year’, under the rubric ‘Proper Psalms on certain days’, in small print at the bottom of a page in modern editions, we find under Ash Wednesday, for Matins, Psalms 6, 32 and 38; and for , Psalms 102, 130 and 143. In 1559, this section, under the same heading, prescribes psalms only for Christmas, Easter, Ascension Day and Whitsunday; Ash Wednesday and were added in 1662.14 With Psalm 51, the Miserere mei, proper to the Ash Wednesday office as always, we have once again the full complement of the seven Penitential Psalms, in order, as in the medieval rite, though distributed over the three services; but the ensemble is enhanced, as they are distributed three and three, on either side of the central Miserere mei. No doubt the 1662 revisers too admired the elegance of that fearful symmetry perceived so long ago in what are still known today as the Penitential Psalms.

NOTES

1. Quoted in Evan Daniel, The Prayer-Book : Its History, Language, and Contents, sixteenth edition (London, 1892), 219. I assume that it is this Gratian rather than the fourth-century Christian Roman emperor of the same name, who was the author of the description. 2. See K.A. Haworth, The Use of Sarum : The Worship and Organisation of Salisbury Cathedral in the Middle Ages (Salisbury, 1973). 3. The Sarum Missal, Done into English by A.H. Pearson (London, 1884), 52. Sexts (or Sext) is the office for the sixth hour in the day, counting from six a.m. (i.e., noon).

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4. The Expositio psalmorum of Cassiodorus (mid-sixth century) was indebted to the Enarrationes in psalmos of Augustine. Augustine is said to have asked that four of the psalms be prominently posted on the walls of his chamber during his final illness. His favourite was Psalm 32, Beati quorum (‘Blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven’). 5. In his classic commentary, Artur Weiser says simply: ‘Of the seven penitential psalms Psalm 51 is the most important one. It demonstrates the essence of true penitence’ (The Psalms: A Commentary, trans. Herbert Hartwell [London: SCM Press, 1962], 401). 6. See The Discarded Image: An Introduction to Medieval and Renaissance Literature (Cambridge, 1964), 10-12. Lewis makes only passing references to or quotes very briefly from the Penitential Psalms in his classic Reflections on the Psalms (New York, 1958). A few further brief quotations occur in ‘The Psalms’, in Christian Reflections, ed. Walter Hooper (Grand Rapids, 1957), 114-28. 7. “Les sept psaumes allégorisés” of Christine de Pisan: A Critical Edition, ed. Ruth Ringland Rains (Washington, 1965); and see Enid McLeod, The Order of the Rose: The Life and Ideas of Christine de Pizan (London, 1976), pp. 147-8. The Seven Psalms: A Commentary on the Penitential Psalms translated from French into English by Dame Eleanor Hull, ed. Alexandra Barratt, Early English Text Society 307 (Oxford, 1995). Hull is the first English woman translator whose name is known. 8. The seven Penitentials, with Rolle's commentary, were selected and edited by Geraldine Hodgson (London, 1928). 9. Saint John Fisher, Exposition of the Seven Penitential Psalms in Modern English, intro. Anne Barbeau Gardiner (San Francisco, 1998). 10. 'Gascoigne's De Profundis' itself was erroneously omitted from the 1573 collection of his works, A Hundreth Sundrie Flowres, though the prefatory sonnet was included; the psalm was restored in the collected works of 1575. See the edition by G.W. Pigman III (Oxford, 2000), lxii, 290-93. Psalm 130 is the shortest of the Penitentials; Psalm 102, with 28 verses, is the longest. 11. Diarmaid MacCulloch, Thomas Cranmer: A Life (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996), 383. 12. Brian Cummings, ed., The Book of Common Prayer: The Texts of 1549, 1559, and 1662 (Oxford, 2011), 722. 13. In October 1789, shortly after the end of the War of Independence, the Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America ratified a Book of Common Prayer, closely based on 1662. The Psalter is Coverdale’s, very slightly edited here and there. The Commination is replaced by ‘A Penitential Office for Ash Wednesday’: there are no maledictions; both clergy and people, kneeling, say the inevitable Miserere mei, Deus in Coverdale’s version. A ‘Selection of Psalms’ at the beginning of the book, lists twenty-eight groups of Psalms on various themes; number 26 is ‘Penitential Psalms’, with the established seven. Under ‘Psalms and Lessons for the Christian Year’, for Ash Wednesday are prescribed, for Morning Prayer, Psalms 32 and 143, for Evening Prayer, 102 and 130; Penitentials all, though not all of them. 14. Unfortunately, Cummings’s excellent edition is misleading on this point: a note next to the chapter title, ‘Proper Psalmes and lessons …’ on the contents page (101) of his edition of 1559, directs the to ‘see 1662’. But as has just been observed, they are not the same: only four feast days are included in 1559, not six as in 1662.

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ABSTRACTS

This paper traces the presence and the particular uses made of the seven Penitential Psalms in services for Ash Wednesday and related occasions, in successive versions of the Book of Common Prayer, from 1549 to 1662. A brief history of the Seven Psalms and their place in pre-Reformation liturgy, as set down notably in the Use of Sarum (though they were prescribed in ecclesiastical treatises even earlier), precedes a close examination of the evolution of their use in the first four Anglican prayer books, and in the earliest American (Episcopalian) version (1789). It is notable that the seven Psalms were included, in various groupings and at various points within the Ash Wednesday or Lenten , throughout the period of the early revisions of the Prayer Book. The striking symmetry of the Latin incipits of the seven Psalms, and their perceived appropriateness for the services of penitence on Ash Wednesday and other services in Lent, continued to command the attention and respect of revisers of the successive versions of the Book of Common Prayer, as it had done for their predecessors since the early Middle Ages.

Les sept psaumes pénitentiels font partie des offices pour le mercredi des Cendres dans toutes les versions du Book of Common Prayer, de 1549 à 1662. Une brève histoire des sept psaumes et leur place dans la liturgie médiévale, en particulier dans le rite de Salisbury (même si des traités ecclésiastiques antérieurs les prescrivent déjà), précède ici l’examen de l’évolution de leur usage dans les quatre premières versions du Book of Common Prayer—1549, 1552, 1559, 1662—ainsi que dans la première édition américaine (1789). Il est remarquable que, de révision en révision, les sept psaumes aient toujours été incorporés aux liturgies du mercredi des Cendres ou des dimanches de Carême, tout au long des XVIe et XVIIe siècles. Sans doute, la symétrie frappante des incipits des sept psaumes et l’adéquation de leur contenu au temps liturgique de la pénitence avaient exercé la même séduction sur les rédacteurs des versions successives du Book of Common Prayer que sur leurs prédécesseurs depuis le haut Moyen Age.

INDEX

Keywords: Book of Common Prayer, Penitential Psalms, liturgy, Lent

AUTHOR

CHARLES WHITWORTH

Université de Montpellier 3

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Promoting Anglican Liturgical Spirituality: Thomas Comber’s Companions to the Book of Common Prayer Promouvoir la spiritualité liturgique anglicane: Les commentaires du Book of Common Prayer par Thomas Comber

Rémy Bethmont

1 The great sense of liturgical continuity between the different versions of the Prayer Book, as well as with some aspects of medieval liturgy, provided Late Stuart Anglicans with a liturgical patrimony which to them was probably as hallowed by time and continuous use as the Sarum rite must have felt to late medieval Christians.

2 The Prayer Book provided the basis of a liturgical spirituality that was unique to the Church of England among Protestant Churches. After the episodes of the civil wars and Commonwealth, during which the Book of Common Prayer was suppressed, many supporters of Cranmer’s liturgies felt it was their duty to reintroduce them to the people by producing commentaries of the Prayer Book. While many strove first and foremost to present the liturgy as orthodox and rightly reformed, one commentator, Thomas Comber, sowed the seeds of a more devotional approach: his monumental commentary of the Prayer Book sought to encourage the development of a liturgical spirituality in both clergy and people by uniting the private and public use of the Book of Common Prayer. 3 The continuous controversies about the Book of Common Prayer since the Elizabethan era gave rise to several defences of Cranmer’s liturgies. Their orthodoxy and conformity with the most venerable patristic tradition were vindicated in Richard Hooker’s Book V of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity (1597), and their scripturality was underlined in John Boys’s survey of the biblical passages of which the text of the Prayer Book is largely composed.1 After the years of the civil wars and Commonwealth, in which those who were attached to the liturgy had had to take risks to continue to use

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it, praying according to the Prayer Book came to be seen at the Restoration as a more defining mark of belonging to the established Church than it had ever been. It is therefore not surprising that the Restoration Church should have produced several commentaries on the Book of Common Prayer, starting what became a veritable industry within Anglicanism. Most of these commentaries were in continuity with the apologetic and analytic mode in which Hooker had written: one now defended the liturgy against the criticisms of the Dissenters and one wished to commend it to those who had grown up without it in the 1640s and 1650s. Thomas Comber’s Companions to the Book of Common Prayer do all this but they also stand out by the scope and importance of their devotional content. They promote the use of the Book of Common Prayer, not just as the biblical, orthodox, public liturgy of the Church, but more profoundly perhaps as the outward form of the prayer of the heart, which can best unite private and public devotion. In that respect, no matter how uninspiring Comber seems to have been to modern scholarship,2 his commentary of the Prayer Book helped towards the diffusion of a liturgical form of spirituality that became defining of “Anglicanism” and which sought to present itself as a profitable resource for all Christians, not only within but also beyond Anglicanism.

Making the liturgy understood and loved

4 Thomas Comber (1644-1699) was ordained to the priesthood in 1664. His whole clerical career unfolded in Yorkshire. He was first and then incumbent of the parish of Stonegrave, while acting as chaplain to the Thorntons, a local gentry family into which he married in 1668. In 1677 he became a prebendary of York, and precentor in 1683. His career climaxed in the wake of the Glorious Revolution, which he supported. He replaced Denis Granville, the Non-juring Dean of Durham, in 1691 and was also made chaplain-in-ordinary to William and Mary in 1692.

5 His commentary on the Book of Common Prayer, which he published, volume after volume, between 1672 and 1698, is what he is chiefly remembered for. The last volumes, on the state services3 and the ordinal,4 published respectively in 1696 and 1698, can be seen as late additions to the four main volumes that made him famous: A Companion to the Temple on the (1672 5), A Companion to the Altar on Holy Communion, Baptism and Confirmation (1675), the second part of A Companion to the Temple on the litany and the occasional prayers and thanksgivings (1679) and The Occasional Offices of Matrimony, Visitation of the Sick, Burial of the Dead, Churching of Women and the Commination (1679). These four parts were subsequently published bound together in one volume entitled A Companion to the Temple in 1684. An abridged edition of this one-volume version came out one year later.6 It is these four parts of Comber’s commentary on the Book of Common Prayer and particularly the more popular volumes on the daily office, the litany and Holy Communion that this paper focuses on. 6 When Comber set out to write his Companion to the Temple, his aim was to both vindicate the excellence of the Restoration liturgy and to encourage the English to attend daily prayer in church. In his mind, both the attacks on the Prayer Book by Dissenters and low attendance at the daily office in parish churches were due to the fact that the liturgy was not sufficiently understood. He echoed a widespread concern at that period that Charles II himself had addressed on his return to England in his ‘Gracious Letter Touching Catechising’ that attributed “contempt among the people” for the “prayers of

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the church” to the fact that “they were not understood.”7 Clergymen were asked to instruct the people about the meaning of the liturgy and a number of publications proposing to meet that demand had preceded Comber’s Companion to the Temple, in particular Thomas Elborow’s Exposition of the Book of Common Prayer (1663), followed by complementing volumes in the 1670’s. Even before the Restoration, concern for making the liturgy plain so that it might be loved was visible in Anthony Sparrow’s Rationale upon the Book of Common Prayer, first published in 1655 and reedited in 1672. Comber’s commentaries were hardly an isolated publishing phenomenon. However, they stand out by the thoroughness with which he comments every single sentence of every Prayer Book service and also by the fact that his goal is much more explicitly devotional than any of the other commentaries.

The devotional dimension and method of Comber’s Companions

7 Comber does more than analyse the structure and meaning of the liturgy or generally defend the restored Prayer Book by showing, as Sparrow does in his Rationale, that the liturgy is thoroughly reasonable, grounded on Scripture and in line with the prayers of the patristic church.8 Ultimately the analytic and apologetic dimension of Comber’s commentary is merely a tool serving his overriding preoccupation: increasing lively, heart-felt devotion in the Church of England, which alone will commend daily liturgical prayer to those who either oppose or have become indifferent to it.

8 Three kinds of people are on Comber’s mind, as he explains in the preface to A Companion to the Temple: the “mistaken dissenters who hereby may be convinced ... that we can pray by this form with as much zeal and more knowledge, with as much spirit and more truth than by any other kind of prayer;” the “ignorant, who may be instructed thereby to pray with understanding,” and finally, the “devout servants of God, and obedient sons of the Church”, who already attend daily prayers in church and are to be encouraged to deepen their devotions. All three categories are to be shown ways to “elevate the affections,” as Combers says in the section about the ignorant, so that the “daily offices may be full of life and pleasure; and every day court us with new delights.”9 9 In order to do so, Comber proposes to methodically go through the services he comments. Each section of the liturgy is presented in a threefold manner: the structure of the particular prayer or exhortation is graphically shown, often in a way that enables the reader to have an overview of the whole prayer or exhortation (so that many sections of Comber's commentary herald the kind of annotated Book of Common Prayer that William Nicholls published in 170910). Then a "practical discourse" on the text analyses its meaning, defends its orthodoxy if necessary and accounts for its place in the overall structure of the service of which it is part. Sometimes (especially in the commentary on Holy Communion), this discourse may also contain meditative prayers of Comber’s own making. Finally, a paraphrase of the prayer is given which weaves together the words from the Book of Common Prayer and Comber's own phrases, referring the reader back to the main ideas developed in the practical discourse. Throughout, the actual words taken from the Prayer Book are typographically set apart in gothic, whereas Comber's own words are in roman type. The aim of that methodical exposition is clear: invite readers to deepen their understanding of the liturgy in order

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to enliven their devotions. Understanding with one's mind must lead to praying with one's heart: when once we have thoroughly pondered them [i.e. the words of the liturgy], and made our souls fully acquainted with these pertinent and comprehensive expressions of our constant necessities, we shall find our hearts actuated with holy enlargements, and powerfully attracted into the prosecution of the requests made by our lips; and our minds would have no other employment in these duties, but to annex the sense to the words, and its most vigorous affections to that sense, which is true devotion.11 10 Ultimately, it is a devotional method that Comber tries to convey: his own comments, paraphrases and meditations are not presented as the be-all and end-all of liturgical devotional exercises, but rather as crutches for beginners and, for those who are more spiritually advanced, as showing the way towards “making pathetical and pious enlargements, more and better than are to be found here.”12 By learning and applying the commentary’s method, Comber hopes, they will eventually be able to use the Prayer Book creatively and find their own way towards the prayer of the heart.

Promoting the use of the Prayer Book in private devotions

11 The thoroughness with which Comber deals with the content of the Book of Common Prayer means that it takes time to read through his commentary and paraphrase of just one prayer. For example, the practical discourse on the daily confession in Morning Prayer is 39 pages long in the 1676 edition, followed by four pages of paraphrase. Clearly the book was meant to be read and studied at home, as part of a devout Christian’s private devotions: “if we desire to pray acceptably, we must study our petitions before we present them; which not only enlivens our devotions in the act of it, but makes our prayers become the rule of our lives.”13 It is remarkable that the complete title of A Companion to the Temple in its first edition was A Companion to the Temple and Closet, or a help to public and private devotion. This title was changed in subsequent editions to the more general phrasing of A Companion to the Temple, or a Help to Devotion in the Daily Use of Common Prayer. But the original title is an accurate description of Comber’s aim: making the liturgy the rule of believers’ lives by encouraging them to experience close correspondence between their private devotions in the closet and public prayers in church.

12 It is not simply an intellectual study of the liturgy in private that reading Comber’s Companions effects. The very structure of each section, in which analytical, learned comments in the practical discourse are followed by a devotional paraphrase of the words of the liturgy, would lead the devout reader from study to meditative prayer even in the closet. A parallel may be made with the private, prayerful study of the Bible, which was so dear to English Protestants and of which Joseph Hall's biblical Contemplations are an example.14 The same pattern from study to prayer can be observed; the Prayer Book has joined the Bible as study/prayer material. Comber’s idea is to unite private and public devotions by promoting the use of the authorised liturgy for both. 13 The private use of Common Prayer was hardly new. In the 16th century, most of the content of the Edwardian and Elizabethan primers of 1553 and 1560 or Books of Private

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Prayer, was a selection of services and prayers from the Book of Common Prayer, encouraging devout, literate Christians to say Morning Prayer, Evening Prayer, the Litany and chosen collects in private as well as in their parish church. And closer to Comber’s time, the years of the civil wars and Commonwealth, when the Prayer Book was banned, had occasioned the increasing private use of the liturgy by those who refused to abandon it. Many people used the forbidden liturgy at home as a book of family and private prayer.15 In 1672, the same year as the publication of Comber’s first part of the Companion to the Temple, Anthony Sparrow commended the private use of Morning and Evening Prayer when it was not possible to go to church in the reedition of his Rationale upon the Book of Common Prayer. 16 Comber himself repeatedly seems to hint at what must have been a sufficiently established and widespread practice not to need any explanation. In his commentary of the Collect for Pardon in part II of A Companion to the Temple, for example, he declares that “some devout Christians, who use the Common-Prayer in private, as their daily Service of God, do use this Form instead of the Absolution, which no ordinary person may pronounce, nor can any properly use it to himself, but they may petition for forgiveness in this form.”17 This comment hints at the fact that the Book of Common Prayer had started to be seen by some as a resource for private prayer which could be used creatively, more so in fact than it had been in the Edwardian and Elizabethan primers one century before.18

The Book of Common Prayer as a school of devotion uniting the personal and the communal

14 Comber was not therefore being particularly original in relating the Book of Common Prayer to private devotion. The novelty of Thomas Comber’s commentary lies in its invitation to use the Book of Common Prayer as a school of devotion. When the liturgy is rightly understood and approached with the right method (which the Companion to the Temple provides), the words of the prayers become prompters which bring us, says Comber, to “enlarge our souls in holy and fervent wishes, desires and meditations, which is the prayer of the inward man, the life and soul of his duty.”19 When by frequent reading of the commentary, the believer has learnt to discern in the particular prayers, phrases and words of the liturgy signals that should trigger certain movements of the soul, he or she is in the right disposition to attain true devotion.

15 This is particularly striking in the use Comber suggests the reader should make of A Companion to the Altar. While it is possible to say morning and evening prayer privately, a sacramental service like Holy Communion can only be celebrated communally with a minister officiating. Spiritual preparation at home for receiving the sacrament was something that had been encouraged ever since the Book of Common Prayer was first authorized and various books of devotion, such as the widely read The Whole Duty of Man (1658), gave assistance to the Christian preparing for Holy Communion, in particular by suggesting how one should introspectively review one’s sins in order to approach the sacrament in a penitent way and by providing private prayers of thanksgiving to be said after receiving communion. Comber takes a slightly different approach. He does offer many meditative prayers of his own composition that are quite distinct from the liturgical text. But whenever possible, he uses the liturgical prayers as the basis for private preparation for communion. It is particularly striking in the long section to help examine one’s conscience, which is presented liturgically, unlike what one finds in

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The Whole Duty of Man, for example. The commentary and paraphrase of the serves as a devotional introduction for an examination of conscience based on the recitation of the , with each section ending by “Lord have mercy upon me and incline my heart to keep this law”, which is the congregational response adapted for private use (“us” and “our” becoming “me” and “my”) to each of the Ten Commandments. The beginning of the “practical discourse of the Ten Commandments” serves as an instruction manual: for every offense suggested by the commandments, says Comber: Ask then your own heart seriously at every one, Have I not been such an one? Done this evil? Neglected this duty? And when your conscience answers, Yes; then you must most passionately cry out, Lord have mercy upon me, and forgive me this or that sin. ... But now that you are freshly minded of your duty, and reproved for your former neglect, it will be expected you shall be more afraid to transgress hereafter, and therefore desiring never more to offend, say, Lord incline my heart to keep this Law.20 16 Moreover, at the end of the practical discourse Comber suggests that those who feel so moved can also use the confession from the order for Holy Communion as a private way to ask for God’s forgiveness when they have been through their self-examination.21

17 Whenever possible, Comber’s commentary turns the liturgy into a resource for private devotion to enable the devout Christian to better reinvest his private prayers into the public service of the Church. And when he inserts prayers of his own composition, Comber often does it in a way which develops particular sections of a liturgical text, emphasizing the dependence of his meditations on the liturgy and referring the reader back to it. For example, the post-communion prayers are commented in practical discourses which, for each liturgical sentence, conclude with a meditation of Comber’s own making, to be used in the closet. As Comber explains in the introduction, We have indeed many admirable books for our help in this sacrament; but they being generally designed for the closet, the affections which were elevated in private, are apt to grow loose and unactive when the public service doth begin. Whereas this discourse, following the order appointed for the celebration in the church, doth entertain the devout communicant all the way, with most pertinent meditations; most of which, by frequent reading them in private, may be made so familiar, that the hearing that part of the office will bring them to our minds in their proper seasons.22 18 The aim is to make the words of public prayer the outward form of true, inward devotion in the closet so that they might have that same inward quality in church. Comber even gives a table at the end of the introduction, directing the reader to various sections of the commentary according to the kind of devotions he wishes to engage in, from self-examination before the service to thanksgiving after the sacrament. Thanks to the commentary, the Book of Common Prayer truly becomes the key resource for a spiritual life that unites the personal and communal dimensions of the Christian faith.

19 Comber's dream (like Cranmer’s) was one of a nation daily attending public prayer in church and in his mind the devotional use of the Book of Common Prayer in private should serve more frequent and meaningful attendance at public services. It is this vision which is behind his commentary, even though he probably had little illusion as to its actually coming true. His insistence on the particularly low number of people necessary to make a Christian congregation compared to the Jewish minyan is telling:

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The Jewish masters indeed teach that ten is the least number to make an assembly fit for the divine presence. But our gracious Lord descends lower, even unto two or three, that none might be discouraged by the negligence of their brethren. ... If you find but few of your brethren at church, yet you shall find him whom your soul seeks there.23 20 Lack of devotion or indifference to the liturgy, however, may not have been the only reason for this low attendance. While the dream of a whole nation attending daily public prayer may not have come any truer in Cranmer’s time than in Comber’s, the tendency to a certain privatized use of the Prayer Book, starting in the years of the civil wars and Commonwealth, and the association, promoted by commentaries like Comber’s, between the outward public form of prayer and the private prayer of the heart may have eventually brought some devout Anglicans, whose private devotions had become increasingly based on the Prayer Book, to find it more inspiring to say the daily office in their homes and reserve church attendance for Sundays. In particular, they may well have done so when their parish priest “sa[id] the liturgy without affection,” as Comber complains was too often the case, leading to “the rude and hasty repeating” of the common prayer.24 Interestingly Comber mentions private prayer as an excuse — which he considers as a hypocritical mask for irreligion — given by the laity for not attending the daily office in church.25 Perhaps it was not always hypocrisy.

A liturgical spirituality that reflects a mixed heritage

21 Recent scholarship on the Restoration Church has underlined the sense of unity among Episcopalians but also some degree of diversity in the relatively peaceful coexistence of former Laudians, Prayer Book Protestants and even Presbyterians who had been reconciled to the restoration of episcopacy.26 Comber’s Companions seem to reflect a mixed heritage of Laudianism and of the Prayer Book Protestantism which had been an important feature of the pre-civil war Church.27 The way Comber establishes the connection between the inward prayer of the heart and the outward, set form of prayer is hardly by emphasizing the role of ceremony and of the beauty of holiness as the Laudians had done, even though his use of the word altar has a distinctly Laudian ring.

22 Comber certainly does pay attention to the posture of one’s body in prayer, but not necessarily more so than in Elizabethan conformist worship. In the preface to A Companion to the Temple, he urges worshippers to: compose their bodies into those most reverent postures which the Church hath suited to every part of duty, kneeling at the confession, absolution and prayers; standing at the , hymns and creeds, and bowing at the name of Jesus; for a general uniformity in these things doth declare, that there is in us, a due sense of the divine presence, a great obedience to our governors, and a sweet harmony between our bodies and souls in the worship we pay to the Creator of both. 23 Although greatly valued by the Laudians, kneeling in “common supplications to Almighty God” and bowing at the name of Jesus had been canonically required since the Elizabethan Injunctions of 1559.28 And Comber is hardly obsessed with more quintessentially Laudian themes, such as the sanctity of the house of prayer. Comments on this, as one still finds in the contemporary Prayer Book commentaries written by Thomas Elborow,29 are conspicuously absent from Comber’s writings. Neither does he comment on the ornaments rubric and he only minimally remarks on the priest’s posture and gestures in the service, in contrast to what Anthony Sparrow does (and

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profusely so!) in his Rationale upon the Book of Common Prayer. 30 Comber chooses to almost exclusively focus on the spoken words of the liturgy. It is these words, more than the ceremonial beauty of holiness, that should enhance the devotional experience of public prayer. As Comber writes, “the Liturgy in its true and native lustre, ... is so lovely and ravishing, that, like the purest beauties, it needs no supplement of art and dressing, but conquers by its own attractives.”31

24 It may well have been part of a strategy to win over the Dissenters. One should not over-emphasize the things that they most loathed and Comber may have considered that the naked words of the liturgy, more than anything else, had the devotional power to draw the Dissenters back to the prayers of the established Church32 because they were sufficient to prompt the devotional movements of the soul.33 It is therefore difficult to conclude with certainty from the Companions how much Comber’s personal spirituality owed to Laudianism and how much of it reflected the legacy of Prayer Book Protestantism.34 But what the Companions do show is that Comber was promoting a type of prayer book spirituality that creatively put together Laudian elements with indifference to certain aspects of ceremonial on which the Laudians had insisted in the 1630s. This word-based liturgical devotion, relatively indifferent (though not opposed) to ceremonial beauty, testifies to the fact that the Anglican liturgical spirituality which developed in the wake of the Restoration could quite peaceably draw from different strands of conformist tradition. Unlike Sparrow or Elborow, Comber belonged to a new generation, born during the civil wars, and he was claiming in his own way the spiritual legacy of the early Stuart Church. 25 Comber’s Companions were certainly never as popular as other contemporary books of devotion in general, such as The Whole Duty of Man, and perhaps less so than other Prayer Book commentaries such as Anthony Sparrow’s Rationale upon the Book of Common Prayer. There is evidence, however, that a number of prominent people, both in the clergy and the laity, did read at least some parts of Comber’s commentaries, notably Princess Anne, who used A Companion to the Altar to prepare for her first communion in 1678.35 The thoroughness of the Companions may have looked quite daunting to a lot of lay people and it is very difficult to say how much of an impact Comber had on Prayer Book devotions. It is therefore quite comprehensible that recent scholarship should have largely ignored him and focused rather on other, more obviously influential devotional authors from that period. Still, between 1672 and 1721, the commentaries on the daily office and A Companion to the Altar, both published in various formats (from folio to octavo), ran respectively through three and five editions as stand-alone volumes and through eight as part of the combined edition. And the abridged combined volume ran through four editions. The English Short Title Catalogue contains no evidence of any reprinting of Comber’s Companions after 1721. By that time other liturgical commentaries which may have proved more appealing had appeared, notably the edition of the Book of Common Prayer by William Nicholls (1709). 26 Whatever its impact, Comber’s Companions to the Book of Common Prayer, together with the other contemporary works of Prayer Book devotion, testify to a defining moment in the history of the Church of England. One was drawing on several strands of conformist tradition to make the Book of Common Prayer central in articulating the way in which the private and the public dimension of spirituality related to each other. It was this articulation, Comber thought, which had the potential to make Anglican liturgical spirituality attractive to all kinds of English Christians, including to those

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who had left the established Church. Later developments on the Continent suggest that this characteristic of Anglican liturgy, with its ensuing capacity to profoundly unite all church members in one prayer, also made it appealing to a number of Protestants quite outside the Anglican fold. 36

NOTES

1. In many ways, Boys comments the biblical passages in the Prayer Book more than the liturgy as such. But it was certainly a very powerful way of demonstrating the scripturality of the Book of Common Prayer, about which Boys declares: “I did ever esteem as a second Bible the Book of Common Prayer in which (as I have here proved) every title is grounded upon the Scripture, every Scripture well applied, every good application agreeable to the most ancient and best reformed Liturgies in all ages." (Works [1622], Epistle dedicatory) 2. In his monumental study of English spirituality, Horton Davies pronounces Comber “deadly dull” (Worship and Theology in England, vol. II From Andrewes to Baxter and Fox, 1603-1690, 1975, combined edition [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996], 117). 3. A Discourse on the Offices for the Vth of November, the XXXth day of January and XXIXth of May. 4. A Discourse upon the Forms and Manner of Making, Ordaining and Consecrating Bishops, Priests and Deacons. 5. The date given is that of the first edition. 6. Short Discourses upon the whole Common Prayer (1685). 7. Reproduced on the first page of Thomas Elborow’s Exposition of the Book of Common Prayer (London, 1663). 8. Sparrow’s book is not devoid of “devotionally illuminating” remarks, to quote C J. Stranks Anglican Devotions: Studies in the Spiritual Life of the Church of England between the Reformation and the Oxford Movement (London: SCM Press, 1961, 153), but the thrust of his book is not to help people find ways of enlivening their devotions in public prayer. 9. Preface to A Companion to the Temple. 10. However, Nicholls’s Comment on the Book of Common Prayer only deals with the daily office, the litany, and the collects as well as the Sunday readings. Like Comber he offers a paraphrase of the prayers but as footnotes on the text of the Book of Common Prayer, so that the liturgy can be read directly from the commentary without any interruption by Nicholls’s own words. 11. Preface to A Companion to the Temple. 12. Preface to A Companion to the Temple. 13. Epistle dedicatory of the first edition of A Companion to the Temple (1672). 14. Rémy Bethmont, L’Anglicanisme : un modèle pour le christianisme à venir? (Genève: Labor et Fides, 2010), 47-51. 15. See Judith Maltby, “Suffering and Surviving : the Civil Wars, the Commonwealth and the Formation of ‘Anglicanism’, 1642-60,” Religion in Revolutionary England, ed. Christopher Durston and Judith Maltby (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006), 166-7. 16. Rationale on the Book of Common Prayer (1672), 333-5. 17. A Companion to the Temple, part II (1679), 448. 18. Strikingly the absolution, which is the only part of Morning Prayer which has to be said by a priest was retained in the primers, only switching from the third to the first person so that the

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actual performative words of the absolution became simply declarative of the fact that God pardons: “Almighty God, ..., which desireth not the death of a sinner, ... and hast given power and commandment to thy ministers, to declare and pronounce to thy people, being penitent, the absolution and remission of their sins, and pardonest and absolvest all them which truly repent...” A Primer or Boke of Private Praier [1560]. 19. Preface to A Companion to the Temple. 20. A Companion to the Altar, 12. The page numbers given are those of the 1675 edition. 21. A Companion to the Altar, 27. 22. A Companion to the Altar, introduction, §3. 23. A Companion to the Temple (1676), 448. 24. Preface to A Companion to the Temple. 25. Preface to A Companion to the Temple. 26. See especially John Spurr, The Restoration Church of England, 1646-1689 (New Haven : Yale University Press, 1991) and Kenneth Fincham & Nicholas Tyacke, Altars Restored : The Changing Face of English Religious Worship, 1547-c. 1700, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 305-352. 27. Judith Maltby has very well shown that the defence of conformist worship and love of the Book of Common Prayer in the laity under Charles I could be — and mostly was — robustly anti- Laudian. See Prayer Book and People in Elizabethan and Early Stuart England (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1998), especially chapters 3 and 4. 28. Injunction 52. 29. Elborow’s preface to The Reasonableness of our Christian Service (London, 1677) starts with an exhortation to demean oneself “with all the reverence imaginable” when one comes into church, “that holy place”, where God’s “special presence” abides. 30. For example, there is a thirteen-page long development on the ornaments rubric (A Rationale upon the Book of Common Prayer [London, 1672], 322-32 and 335-6) and four pages are devoted to defend the idea of the priest facing one way when he speaks to God and another when he addresses the congregation (35-9). These passages are an occasion for Sparrow to discuss what he sees as the sacred symbolism of the church building, something which is quite absent from Comber’s discourse. Sparrow also has a lot more to say than Comber on the symbolism of the priest standing or kneeling (14 and 65 for example). 31. Preface to A Companion to the Temple. 32. Comber actually had some dissenting friends whom he tried and sometimes managed to reconcile to the established Church, as was the case in 1690 with “a learned & moderate Presbyterian friend of mine who had lost a good liveing in 1662” (C. E. Whiting, ed., The Autobiographies and Letters of Thomas Comber, sometime Precentor of York and Dean of Durham, vol. 1, Publications of the Surtees Society, vol. CLVI [London: Andrews & co., 1946], 23). 33. Even in what may appear as the less inspiring moments of the liturgy. The way in which Comber turns into an occasion for joy what must have felt to some as the rather tedious warning giving notice of a coming Holy Communion office is admirable: “Our Lord Jesus when he came in the flesh had St John Baptist for his herald to bid the world prepare ... thus also his Messengers do now proclaim his approach in this Sacrament, wherein he comes in the Spirit, to feast with us. ... Why should we not receive the news with the same joy that Zachaeus expressed, when he heard that Jesus purposed to be his guest?” (A Companion to the Altar, op. cit, 103) 34. Comber’s autobiographical notes and letters are not more helpful than the Companions in that respect. They show him to be comfortable with the beauty of holiness but there is never any display of excitement about ceremonial. The gift of “a noble crimson velvet cloth with rich embroidery & Gold fringe upon the Alter at York,” he simply mentions as a “seasonable & liberal gift” (C. E. Whiting, ed., op. cit., 23) and in a letter to a Dissenter he tries to reconcile him to the Church by pointing out that ceremonies are matters so indifferent and inconsequential that they cannot constitute a good reason for separation (C. E. Whiting, ed., vol. 2, op. cit., 4-5).

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35. C. E. Whiting, ed., op. cit., 9. A letter by one W. R. to Comber, dated from 1676, also suggests that his commentary had had some impact in London on both clergy and laity: “divers who have hade all of them [Comber’s volumes] are become constant daily prayer men and women at St Christophers, which fills morning and evening, verie much off late.” (C. E. Whiting, ed., op. cit., 115) 36. Eugène Bersier’s example in the French Reformed Church is a case in point. His wish to put a prayer book in every church member’s hands flowed out of his appreciation of Anglican liturgical spirituality (see Stuart Ludbrook’s paper in this volume).

ABSTRACTS

Thomas Comber was the Dean of Durham from 1691 to his death in 1699. He is chiefly remembered for his companions to the Book of Common Prayer, published between 1672 and 1699, which constitute the first complete commentary on the Prayer Book for devotional use. Whereas the desire to defend the excellence of the liturgy of the established Church against dissenting criticism is certainly not absent, the devotional dimension of Comber's commentary distinguishes it from previous commentaries, starting with Richard Hooker's in Book V of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. If Comber's aim is clearly to promote the daily frequenting of morning and evening prayer in the parish church by helping the educated laity to understand and love every part of the liturgy better, his commentary is also explicitly presented as suitable for private devotions. In the 16th c. the publication of primers and books of private prayer to complement the Book of Common Prayer had seemed to confine the Prayer Book to public worship. At the end of the 17th c., Comber's commentary was an invitation to use the Prayer Book for private devotions as well. Thanks to his thorough commentaries and his prayerful paraphrase of the entire liturgy, Comber contributed to the spread of a form of liturgical spirituality, whereby every Anglican's devotional life, both personal and communal, was grounded on two books that were not to be separated: the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer.

Thomas Comber, doyen de la cathédrale de Durham de 1691 jusqu’à sa mort en 1699, a légué à la postérité son commentaire du Book of Common Prayer, publié, volume après volume, entre 1672 et 1699. Il s’agit du premier commentaire complet du livre de prières dont l’objet est d’enflammer la piété des Anglais. Si le désir de défendre l’excellence de la liturgie officielle contre les critiques des Dissidents n’est certes pas absent, l’usage méditatif et priant que Comber souhaite pour son commentaire le distingue, en effet, de ceux qui l’ont précédé, à commencer par celui de Richard Hooker dans le livre V de son Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. L’objectif initial de Comber est clairement d’encourager la fréquentation quotidienne des offices du matin et du soir dans l’église paroissiale, en aidant les laïcs instruits à mieux comprendre et aimer chaque séquence de la liturgie. Mais son commentaire se présente aussi explicitement comme une aide à la méditation et à la prière personnelle. Au XVIe siècle, la publication de livres de prières privées, comme pendants du Book of Common Prayer avait semblé confiner ce dernier au culte public. A la fin du XVIIe siècle, le commentaire de Comber invite à aussi utiliser le Book of Common Prayer pour la prière et la méditation privées. Par ses analyses détaillées de la liturgie et ses paraphrases dévotionnelles, Comber a contribué à la formation d’une spiritualité liturgique dans laquelle la piété anglicane, qu’elle soit individuelle ou communautaire, s’enracine dans l’usage de deux livres inséparables: la Bible et le Book of Common Prayer.

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INDEX

Mots-clés: Réforme anglaise, Henri VIII, liturgie, Book of Common Prayer Keywords: English Reformation, Henry VIII, liturgy, Book of Common Prayer

AUTHOR

RÉMY BETHMONT

Université Paris 8, TransCrit

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The Book of Common Prayer across Denominational and National Borders L’Influence du Book of Common Prayer au-delà des frontières confessionnelles et nationales.

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The Book of Common Prayer in Methodism: a Cherished Heritage or a Corrupting Influence? Le Book of Common Prayer dans le méthodisme : héritage précieux ou cancer à extirper ?

Jérôme Grosclaude

1 Given the origin of Methodism, it is hardly surprising that the Book of Common Prayer should have played a part in its history. What is more remarkable, however, is that in spite of a long history of Methodist ambivalence towards the Prayer Book, contemporary Methodism has increasingly learnt to affirm it a lot more unanimously as a welcome resource. The continued relevance of Anglican liturgy in a denomination which had to come to terms with its separate identity is a testimony both to the appeal and adaptability of the Anglican liturgical tradition.

2 When Methodism was founded in 1738, John Wesley had no intention to split off from the Church of England – in which he had been a priest for ten years – , but, on the contrary, he wanted to revitalize it from the inside. However, in his own lifetime, Methodism functioned like an independent movement, ultimately answerable to no one but to the Founder, even though he regularly protested of his and his disciples’ loyalty to the established Church.1 3 The status of The Book of Common Prayer within Methodism illustrates the ambiguous relation of Methodism to the Church of England. More than two centuries after the de facto separation of the two Churches, British Methodism is still influenced by the liturgy of the Church of England. Although the Book of Common Prayer was instrumental in shaping the spirituality of John Wesley and his early disciples, its place was later disputed within the Methodist Church. However, since the late 19th century it has become a lasting inspiration for the denomination.

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The Book of Common Prayer as a constitutive element of Methodist identity (1738-1791)

4 Without retelling the history of Methodism, its birth and rise in the British Isles and then in the colonies (notably in North America)2, let it be noted that John Wesley showed a good deal of pragmatism when it came to organizing and leading his movement. He freed himself from everything that could check the progression of Methodism, such as the life-long appointments of ministers to their livings, or the monopoly on preaching then enjoyed by ordained ministers in the Church of England. It seemed to John Wesley that these things stood in the way of real conversions. However, he kept these “things indifferent” which did not hinder the task of spreading the Gospel that he had assigned to himself and to his disciples. In which category did John Wesley put the Book of Common Prayer and more generally fixed forms of worship?

5 John Wesley loved the Book of Common Prayer, declaring in September 1784: “I believe there is no liturgy in the world, either in ancient or modern language, which breathes more a solid, scriptural, rational piety, than the Common Prayer of the Church of England.”3 John Wesley’s writings were studded with quotations from the Book of Common Prayer almost as numerous as biblical quotations. In a 15-page letter to the Bishop of Gloucester, for example, written in 1762 to answer anti-Methodist attacks, John Wesley explicitly or implicitly referred 17 times to the Book of Common Prayer and 13 times to The Books of Homilies.4 As for his Journal (21 volumes covering the years 1735 to 1790), its editors, W. Reginald Ward and Richard P. Heintzenrater, have found no less than 152 quotations from the Book of Common Prayer.5 6 Such intimate knowledge of one of the founding texts of Anglicanism is naturally unsurprising, coming as it did from an Anglican minister (whose father and brother were also Anglican priests), who defined himself as “a High Churchman, son of a High Churchman”.6 However, such proximity must be rightfully set in context. 7 John Wesley found himself constantly repeating that the Methodists were, and had to remain, members of the Church of England. In 1777, he delivered the following warning: “God is with you, of a truth [cf. 1 Co., XIV, 25]; and so he will be, while you continue in the Church: but whenever the Methodists leave the Church, God will leave them.”7 8 In Wesley’s view Methodists were Anglicans. For him this Anglican identity was based on two main features: Sunday service attendance in the parish church and doctrinal unity with the Church of England. Thus, on 13 September 1739, John Wesley recorded the following episode in his Journal: A serious clergyman desired to know in what points we differed from the Church of England. I answered: “To the best of my knowledge, in none. The doctrines we preach are the doctrines of the Church of England; indeed, the fundamental doctrines of the Church, clearly laid down, both in her Prayers, Articles and Homilies.”8 9 Time was not to modify John Wesley’s opinion, as he dramatically showed almost fifty years later when he published a service book for his disciples in the United States. The previous year, Britain had conceded independence to the Thirteen Colonies, and it seemed difficult for the Methodists to continue using the Book of Common Prayer (since it was the service book of the State Church of the former colonizer). Rather than

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producing an original service book, John Wesley chose to publish an abridged version of the Book of Common Prayer entitled The Sunday Service of the Methodists in North America.9

10 However, this decision can be seen as a sign of John Wesley’s ambiguous position with regard to the Church of England. If the structure remained the same in the two service books, the father of Methodism introduced several changes. All the saints’ feast days disappeared,10 as well as the Black Rubric in the Lord’s Supper. 11 He also deleted all references to clerical garb.12 Finally, The Sunday Service of the Methodists did not contain any of the three references to the Books of Homilies contained in the Book of Common Prayer.13 11 John Wesley’s work seemed to be mainly motivated by a desire for simplification in the context of life in the United States at the time, but we can also discern theological motivations behind some of the changes he introduced. It is particularly visible in the version of the Thirty-Nine Articles which, as was customary in all editions of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, were included in the 1786 service book. However, they appeared in an abridged version, the doctrinal statement of the Church of England being reduced to 25 Articles. In what can logically be considered as the statement of faith of the Methodists, John Wesley had deleted two articles which could have undermined the Anglican credentials of Methodism: _ Article XX, whose opening sentence is: “The Church hath power to decree rites or ceremonies and authority in controversies of faith” _ Article XXIII, according to which “It is not lawful for any man to take upon him the office of public preaching or ministering the sacraments in the congregation, before he be lawfully called and sent to execute the same.”14 12 The articles which contradicted John Wesley’s Arminian vision of salvation were also deleted: article XVII (on predestination)15 and the part of article XXVII on baptismal regeneration16 (for John Wesley no one could be saved if he had not had a personal encounter with God). Other passages were probably deleted for the sake of brevity, and an article of religion was added: “Of the Rulers of the United States of America”, which affirmed the independence of the USA and the legitimacy of the federal and state governments.

13 For all the love and respect he had for the Book of Common Prayer, John Wesley did not think it was perfect, nor wholly theologically sound. This became obvious in 1786 when he had The Sunday Service of the Methodists reissued, with no mention of the United States so that the service book could be used in Scotland and in the colonies.17 14 While professing the utmost fidelity to the Church of England, John Wesley de facto put his movement outside the Church’s control. His conception of the Book of Common Prayer was a good illustration of this ambiguity since he came to the point where he asked his disciples to use an abridged, revised version instead of the original, even though he repeated time and again how much he admired the liturgy of the established Church. Consequently, after his death his followers were compelled to wrestle with this ambiguity, even though they eventually managed to clarify the status of the Book of Common Prayer inside Methodism.

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The Book of Common Prayer in Methodism: a controversial and problematic status (1791-1897)

15 The death of John Wesley, aged 88, on 2 March 1791, left the movement bereft of its charismatic founder, thanks to whom Methodism had flourished beyond all expectations. In another liturgical illustration of the ambiguous place of Methodists within the Church of England, the itinerant preacher, Henry Moore, who presided over John Wesley’s burial decided to use the Office for the Dead from the Book of Common Prayer.18 However Moore, although ordained an “elder” by John Wesley in 178419, would not have been authorised to perform the ritual by the established Church, since the Book of Common Prayer explicitly specifies that only a priest ordained by a bishop in the was allowed to read the office.20

16 In the years immediately following the death of John Wesley, the Conference, the supreme body of Methodism, composed of all its itinerant preachers, regularly protested its fidelity to the established Church. As when John Wesley was alive, Methodists still had the obligation to attend Sunday services in their parish churches (and to take communion if the Lord’s Supper was celebrated), as well as to participate in the Methodist preaching service on the same day.21 In the few cases where Methodists (from at least 1786) were allowed not to attend the parish church (mainly because it was too far away or because the Minister was “notoriously wicked” or preaching “a false doctrine”),22 the Conference recommended that “the Psalms and Lessons with part of the Church Prayers”23 should be read, which confirmed the central place of the Book of Common Prayer in the liturgical life of Methodism. In addition to this reiteration, the Conference of 1792 repeated the prohibition against holding preaching services at the same time as the Sunday service in the parish church.24 17 However, a growing majority of Methodists wanted the itinerant preachers to be given true ministerial status. The Conference was then torn between the desire to have the itinerant preachers administer communion,25 and the desire not to break with the Church of England. A way out was found in 1795 thanks to the “Plan of Pacification”: this compromise solution reaffirmed the link between Methodism and the Church of England, while at the same time allowing for the administration of the Lord’s Supper and of Baptism in preaching houses by the itinerant preachers, provided a majority of the faithful were in favour and subject to ultimate approval by the Conference.26 The document stipulated that Methodist services should not be held at the same time as the office in the parish church but that, if it was nonetheless the case, the Book of Common Prayer, or at least the version abridged by John Wesley, should be used.27 There was an absolute prohibition on celebrating the Lord’s Supper in the preaching house on the same day as in the parish church,28 however this recommendation seemed to have remained a dead letter once the itinerant preachers had gained the right to give communion. The separation between the two denominations was thus de facto accomplished, even if the Methodist movement long continued to claim that its rightful place was within the Church of England. 18 To what extent was the Conference’s injunction to use the Book of Common Prayer or the Prayer-Book based Sunday Service of the Methodists obeyed? It is difficult to answer the question with certainty, but two elements tend to indicate that it was indeed acted upon, and that Methodist services long followed the rubrics of the Book of Common Prayer. First, The Sunday Service of the Methodists was reissued twenty-seven times

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between 1792 and 1882 (a new edition every 3 years and 4 months on average), which would imply that the book was fairly successful. Secondly, in 1828 an anonymous Methodist pamphleteer thought himself justified in defending the use of the Book of Common Prayer or of its abridged version by arguing that “[t]he Liturgy has, in times past, proved a standard, to which, without fear of contradiction, we could always appeal in support of Methodistical [sic] doctrine”29 and that the Book of Common Prayer represented “a very complete and concise epitome of the doctrines we profess”. 30 The same pamphleteer also asserted that to listen to the liturgy of the Church of England helped the Methodists immerse themselves in the Holy Scriptures since they were heavily quoted in the Book of Common Prayer.31 Nine years later, in 1837, a great Methodist figure, the minister and historian Thomas Jackson (1783-1873), twice president of the Wesleyan Methodist Conference (the main British Methodist denomination), challenged his reader to find a Wesleyan chapel where the Book of Common Prayer was not in use: “[Y]ou shall attend any of the chapels where our regular ministers officiate on the forenoon of the Lord’s Day as you please, and if you do not find the liturgy or the lessons read, I will forfeit five pounds [that is to say, three months of the wages of an unmarried Wesleyan Minister]”.32 Eight years later, when the Wesleyan Conference allowed its ministers to celebrate weddings, they were asked to use the Book of Common Prayer ritual revised by John Wesley in The Sunday Service of the Methodists.33 19 Thanks to other testimonies, it is possible to assert with confidence that the Book of Common Prayer (or its abridged version) was greatly used by the Wesleyans. In his 2006 book on Methodist liturgy, David Chapman comes to the conclusion that the Book of Common Prayer was indeed used more often than The Sunday Service of the Methodists, and that it was not until 1882 that they were both supplanted by The Book of Public Prayers and Services.34 20 It should be noted that, in addition to possibly bringing spiritual benefits, the use of the Book of Common Prayer (or of its abridged version) had the advantage of being a token of respectability for the Methodists who used it, while also bringing credence to the oft-repeated claim that Wesleyans represented the purest Anglican orthodoxy.35 21 However, the Book of Common Prayer and its abridged version also had their detractors among Methodists, especially among those who belonged to the minority sects. The Book of Common Prayer and the “popish” influence which, for some, pervaded it, appeared shocking to them. In their view, Church of England services were still too similar to Roman Catholic services. This accusation was made more particularly by non-Wesleyans, that is to say those Methodists who had broken away from the main denomination from 1797, usually because of the excessively great powers given to ministers in Methodism. Hugh Bourne, for example, who co-founded the Primitive Methodists in 1812 (the main non-Wesleyan denomination), would use the image of the “great whore” from the Book of Revelation — usually reserved to excoriate Popery— to describe an Anglican service: After the service began, it ran through my mind, “get thee out of this place [cf. Gn XIX, 14], and beware of the woman that has the golden cup in her hand, and those that are with her; their ways are death” (…). It then struck me, “These people draweth nigh unto me with their lips,” [Mt XV, 8] &c. (…) I took my hat as soon as they had done the , and went out and the burden was removed. 36 22 With every schism, the newly born Methodist Churches (the Methodist New Connexion in 1797, the Primitive Methodists in 1812, the Bible Christians in 1815 and the United

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Methodist Free Churches in 1857) rejected the use of the Book of Common Prayer or of The Sunday Service of the Methodists and chose not to prescribe any service book to their preachers.37 Until the end of the 19 th century, the non-Wesleyan services were of a great variety and could be celebrated wholly or partly extempore, or find their inspiration in Nonconformist services. It seems that non-Wesleyan ministers would use a general outline which served as a basis for a service which they devised rather freely, alternating sermons, hymns, readings and impromptu prayers.38

23 In the early 19th century, a clear difference existed between Wesleyan Methodists (who generally cherished the Book of Common Prayer and mainly refused the “Nonconformist” epithet) and non-Wesleyans, who had no consideration for “popish” prayers and even refused any set liturgy. This divide continued for most of the 19th century and things only began to change in 1860 when an increasing number of Methodist denominations started to use new service books.

The adoption of new Methodist service books: what posterity for the Book of Common Prayer?

24 Beginning in the 1860s, but gaining steam from the 1870s, the Methodist Churches started to adopt new service books. Such a step demonstrated the self-confidence of the Methodist denominations which, one after the other, had incorporated the word “Church” (instead of “Society” or “Connexion”) in their official names.39

25 The adoption of service books by Methodists remained a delicate affair for two apparently conflicting reasons. Given that the use of the Book of Common Prayer was supposed to warrant the Anglican orthodoxy of the Methodists (cf. the above quotations by Thomas Jackson), to discontinue the use of the Book of Common Prayer and of The Sunday Service of the Methodists could be interpreted as renouncing this orthodoxy; it is however true that, when the Wesleyan Conference ordered the publication of a service book to replace the Book of Common Prayer in 1880, this objection seemed irrelevant to a great many Methodists. 26 Another argument against the adoption of a specifically Methodist service book was linked to a peculiar feature of the movement created by John Wesley: extempore prayer. In the early years of Methodism, itinerant preaching often led John Wesley and his assistants to utter prayers when they believed to be moved by the Holy Spirit to do so.40 John Wesley attached so much importance to this, that he even had the following indication included in his revisions of the Lord’s Supper and Baptism: “Then the Elder [i. e. the Minister], if he see it expedient, may put up (conclude with) a prayer extempore”.41 Methodist Ministers had continued this usage, guaranteed by the 1795 Plan of Pacification,42 and it still exists today. There is no doubt that some Ministers feared the introduction of a (compulsory) service book which would eliminate any possibility of uttering impromptu prayers. This was why in 1880 the itinerant preacher John Bate advocated “the absolute and universal abandonment of Prayer-Books”43 so that Wesleyans might come back to the general use of extempore prayer, upon which he marvelled with these words: [W]hat power with God, what pouring of the soul before Him, what signal revelations of the Divine presence in light, comfort, peace, salvation, what overwhelming glory falling upon the congregations, should we see! Could a similar history be given of the use of read prayers?44

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27 John Bate was probably not the only Wesleyan to entertain such fears, but The Book of Public Prayers and Services for the use of the People called Methodists was nonetheless published in 1882.45 Its content must have reassured those Wesleyans who were worried by such an innovation since it contained many elements taken from The Sunday Service of the Methodists and it also allowed extempore prayers in the Orders for the Lord’s Supper and Baptism.46 The Book of Public Prayers and Services came to be generally used by the Wesleyans and supplanted both the Book of Common Prayer and John Wesley’s version.47

28 By the time the Wesleyans published their first service book, two other Methodist Churches had already produced theirs: the Primitive Methodists in 1860 and the United Methodist Free Churches in 1865. Two more – the Bible Christians and the Methodist New Connexion – were to follow in 1897. Such a development may appear surprising, since non-Wesleyan Churches often associated set prayers with the Church of England that they had come to hate and despise. 29 However, it should be noted that the use of service books was in every case optional, since none of these denominations declared them to be mandatory. The full title of the Primitive Methodist service book, for example, was Forms for the Administration of Baptism, the Solemnization of matrimony, maternal Thanksgiving after Child-birth, Administration of the Lord’s Supper, Renewing our Covenant with God, and for the Burial of the dead, drawn up by the Order of the Primitive Methodist Conference, for the use of such Primitive Methodist Ministers as may require them (my emphasis). 30 Similarly, the Book of Services for the Use of the Bible Christian Church opened with an explanatory foreword: [T]here are certain special and solemn occasions in our Church life, which ought not to be left entirely to the discretion of the ministers and other presiding brethren; occasions when both ministers and people would gladly welcome the aid of a service book.48 31 The authors also expressed their desire that their work should be used more as an assisting tool than as a compelling rule preventing any innovation from ministers.49

32 Two significant differences between non-Wesleyan rituals and the 1882 Wesleyan service book can be noted. First, non-Wesleyan works clearly distanced themselves from the Anglican heritage, visible in The Book of Public Prayers and Services. The former seldom followed the framework of the Book of Common Prayer, and indications concerning postures and gestures were very rare. Congregational responses were similarly scarce, no doubt to give them more latitude50. Finally, non-Wesleyan service books were seen more as a source of inspiration for the minister than as a pattern to be rigidly followed51. 33 When in 1932 the major British Methodist Churches united to form the Methodist Church of Great Britain, it was felt necessary to produce a new service book. The Book of Offices, published in 1936, was heavily influenced by the Wesleyan tradition – and consequently, the tradition of the Book of Common Prayer. Methodists from non- Wesleyan backgrounds thus discovered offices following an Anglican framework, even if two orders of service for the Lord’s Supper had been produced. The first followed the Wesleyan structure and was very similar to the Communion Service of the Book of Common Prayer 52; the second, on the contrary, was very simple and closely resembled plain non-Wesleyan ceremonies. Despite the historic hostility of non-Wesleyans towards Wesleyans, few eyebrows were raised, it seems, when the decision was made.53

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When the 1936 service book was superseded in 1975 by The Methodist Service Book, the (Wesleyan) first order was maintained and the second was replaced by a new version entitled “Sunday service”, showing the influence of the Liturgical Movement54. The latter order in turn influenced The Methodist Worship Book (1999), the current Methodist liturgy, which proposes ten different orders of service for the Lord’s Supper, depending on the liturgical season, but whose general structure echoes that of the “Sunday Service”. Other elements are similar to those of the Anglican Lord’s Supper or the Roman Catholic Mass.55 The other ceremonies show the same twin influence of the Liturgical Movement (notably the “Marriage Service”, practically unchanged between 1975 and 1999, which bears a strong resemblance to the Anglican and Roman Catholic services56) and of the Book of Common Prayer (transmitted through the “Sunday Service” and the Wesleyan tradition). Prayer Book influence is particularly visible in the Burial Office which follows the same structure as — and borrows some prayers from — the 1928 Prayer Book57. As this article has made plain, Wesleyans were able to preserve their liturgical tradition after the 1932 Union, even if the now unified British Methodist Church has also turned to other sources for inspiration.

Conclusion

34 Born in the Church of England, it was only logical that Methodism should bear some resemblance to the established Church, and that it should have influenced John Wesley. From the end of the 18th century to the last third of the 19 th century, Methodist denominations had no choice but to define themselves with regard to the Book of Common Prayer: Wesleyans, the majority Church, saw it as a heritage to be protected and officially decided to continue using it, while non-Wesleyans, on the contrary, saw its Popish ceremonies as a corrupting influence one had to get rid of. The same dichotomy remained when Methodist Connexions, one after the other, took to producing their own service books. It was only in 1936 that non-Wesleyans, without disclaiming their history and their love for the Protestant Reformation, (re)discovered the heritage of the Book of Common Prayer which had been preserved by the Wesleyans for almost 150 years. The present situation is an interesting compromise and today’s British Methodist liturgy is the result of the quadruple influence of the Book of Common Prayer, John Wesley (extempore prayers have always been allowed in the united Church since 193658), non-Wesleyan traditions and the interdenominational Liturgical Movement.

NOTES

1. Frank Baker, John Wesley and the Church of England (1970) (London: Epworth Press, 2000), 311-314; John Wesley, The Works of John Wesley. The Bicentennial Edition. Journal and Diary [hereafter Journal], ed. W. Reginald Ward & Richard P. Heintzenrater, vol. 20 (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press), 91.

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2. For a history of Methodism, see, inter alia, George Eayrs, William Townsend & Herbert Workman, eds., A New History of Methodism (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1909), 2 vols; Rupert E. Davies & Gordon Rupp, eds., A History of the Methodist Church in Great Britain (London: Epworth Press, 1965-1988), 4 vols; Frank Baker, op. cit. 3. John Wesley, The Letters of the Rev. John Wesley, A.M. – Standard Edition, [hereafter Letters] ed. John Telford, vol. VII (London: The Epworth Press, 1931), 239. 4. John Wesley, “A Letter to the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Gloucester”, The Works of John Wesley. The Bicentennial Edition, vol. 11; The Appeals to Men of reason and Religion and Certain Related Open Letters, ed. Gerald R. Cragg( Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975), 521-536. 5. John Wesley, Journal, vol. 24, 417. 6. Letter to Lord North and Lord Dartmouth (14 June 1775) in John Wesley, Letters, vol. VI, 161. 7. John Wesley, “On Laying The Foundation Of The New Chapel, Near The City-Road, London” in John Wesley, Sermons, http://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-sermons-of-john-wesley-1872- edition/sermon-132-on-laying-the-foundation-of-the-new-chapel-near-the-city-road-london (DOA: 26/6/2013). 8. John Wesley, Journal, vol. 19, 96. 9. Frank Baker, op. cit., 242-243. The name was misleading since it contained offices for other days of the week. 10. James F. White, ed., John Wesley’s Sunday Service of the Methodists of North America (Nashville, TN: Quarterly Review, 1984), 17 [hereafter SSM]. 11. Frank Baker, op. cit., 245. 12. SSM, 10. 13. Frank Baker, op. cit., 250. For a complete list of the deletions and additions, see ibid., 242-252. 14. Ibid., 249-250. 15. “Predestination to life is the everlasting purpose of God, (…), He hath constantly decreed by His counsel secret to us, to deliver from curse and damnation those whom He hath chosen in Christ out of mankind, and to bring them by Christ to everlasting salvation as vessels made to honour. Wherefore they which be endued with so excellent a benefit of God be called according to God's purpose by His Spirit working in due season; they through grace obey the calling; they be justified freely; they be made sons of God by adoption; they be made like the image of His only-begotten Son Jesus Christ; they walk religiously in good works; and at length by God's mercy they attain to everlasting felicity. (…)” 16. “[T]hey that receive baptism rightly are grafted into the Church; the promises of the forgiveness of sin, and of our adoption to be the sons of God, by the Holy Ghost are visibly signed and sealed; faith is confirmed, and grace increased by virtue of prayer unto God.” 17. Frank Baker, op. cit., 254-255. 18. It should be noted that Henry Moore used “our father” instead of “our brother” throughout (Richard P. Heintzenrater, The Elusive Mr. Wesley, Volume 1: John Wesley His Own Biographer [Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1984], 153). 19. On Henry Moore’s ordination, see H. Edward Lacy, “John Wesley’s ”, Proceedings of the Wesley Historical Society 23 (1962): 120 and John C. Bowmer, “Ordinations in Wesleyan Methodism, 1791-1850”, Proceedings of the Wesley Historical Society 39 (1974): 125. 20. Cf. the Order for the Burial of the Dead in The Book of Common Prayer. 21. Minutes of the Methodist Conferences, From the First, Held in London, by the Late Rev. John Wesley, A.M., in the Year 1744, vol. I (London: John Mason/Wesleyan Conference Office, 1862), 193 [hereafter MMC]. 22. Ibid., 193 23. Ibid., 193. 24. Ibid., 271.

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25. The question is mentioned in the Minutes of every Conference from 1792 to 1795 (ibid. 270, 273, 292, 314-315, 340-341). 26. Ibid., 340. 27. Ibid., 340. 28. Ibid., 340. 29. Layman (A), Objections to the Introduction of the Liturgy of the Established Church into Wesleyan Methodist Chapels, Considered and Refuted, By a Layman (London: John Mason, 1828), 9. 30. Ibid., 10. 31. Ibid., 11. 32. [Thomas Jackson], The Wesleyans vindicated from the calumnies contained in a pamphlet entitled, “The Church of England compared with Wesleyan Methodism”, in a dialogue between a Churchman and a Methodist (1837), 2nd edition (London: John Mason, 1837), 22. 33. David M. Chapman, Born in Song: Methodist Worship in Britain (Warrington: Church in the Market Place Publications, 2006), 201. 34. [Thomas Jackson], The Wesleyans vindicated…, op. cit., 25. 35. Thomas Jackson remarked in 1842: “For the Church of England as a whole and as a Protestant Establishment I have long entertained what I conceive to be a just and sincere respect; nor shall anything absolutely alienate me from her ordinances”, [Thomas Jackson], An Answer to the Question, Why are you a Wesleyan Methodist? (London: John Mason), 1842, 5. 36. Quoted in John Walford, Memoirs of the Life and Labours of the Late Venerable Hugh Bourne, By a Member of the Bourne Family (1854) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 145. 37. David M. Chapman, op. cit., 24-29. 38. Ibid., 51-55. 39. The Methodist New Connexion was the only Methodist denomination never to have adopted the word “Church” in its official name, but the denomination into which it merged in 1907, the United Methodist Church, did. 40. Frank Baker, op. cit., 311 and 321. 41. The Sunday Service of the Methodists late in Connexion with the Rev. John Wesley, M. A., with other occasional services (1784), 6th edition (London: Wesleyan Methodist Conference Office, 1817), 136, 140. 42. Paragraph 9 of the Plan of Pacification read: “The Lord’s Supper shall be always administered in England, according to the form of the Established Church: but the person who administers, shall have full liberty to give out hymns, and to use exhortations and extemporary prayers”, MMC (1795), vol. I, 340. 43. John Bate, The Desire for a Methodist Liturgy: A Protest (London: E. Stock, 1880), 5. 44. Ibid., 10. 45. David M. Chapman, op. cit., 25. 46. The Book of Public Prayers and Services; for the use of the People called Methodists (1882) (London: Wesleyan Methodist Book Room, 1883), 230, 252. 47. David M. Chapman, op. cit., 25. 48. Ibid., 29. 49. Ibid., 29. 50. Ibid., 25. 51. Ibid., 25. 52. Ibid., 82. 53. However, it is probable that some congregations continued to use the old service books, just like former Wesleyan communities were still using the 1880 service book as of 2006. (ibid., 31). 54. Ibid., 82-83. 55. Ibid., 85. 56. Ibid., 213-214.

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57. Ibid., 231. 58. Ibid., 31.

ABSTRACTS

For a long time, Methodism had a complicated relation with its “Mother Church”, the Church of England, and the liturgical question provides a good illustration of this. Even though they separated from the Church of England in the 1790s, Wesleyan Methodists (the majority group) followed the instructions and practice of the founder, John Wesley, by making it compulsory to use the Book of Common Prayer for their offices, while allowing at the same time for impromptu prayers (also dear to their founder’s heart). Non-Wesleyans, on the contrary, eager to distinguish themselves from the detested Church of England, did not use a set form of worship for most of the 19th century and their services were generally improvised. After describing the (Wesleyan and non-Wesleyan) Methodist vision of the liturgy of the established Church in the 18th and 19th centuries, this article will study the reasons why the British Methodist Churches adopted set liturgies from the 1860s, and how they were created. Finally, we will see to what extent these 19th- and 20th- century rituals were indebted to the Book of Common Prayer.

Né d’une scission d’avec l’Eglise d’Angleterre, le méthodisme entretint longtemps une relation compliquée avec son « Eglise mère » et la question de la liturgie en est un bon exemple. Tout en rompant avec l’anglicanisme, les méthodistes wesleyens (majoritaires), fidèles en cela aux souhaits et à la pratique du fondateur, John Wesley, étaient, en effet, officiellement tenus de fonder leurs offices sur le Book of Common Prayer, tout en laissant une place aux prières impromptues, à laquelle leur fondateur accordait également une grande importance. Les non wesleyens, en revanche, soucieux de se démarquer d’une Eglise d’Angleterre honnie ne disposèrent, pendant une bonne partie du XIXe siècle, d’aucun rituel, et improvisaient donc largement leurs offices. Cet article, après avoir rappelé la vision qu’avaient les méthodistes (wesleyens et non wesleyens) de la liturgie de l’Eglise d’Angleterre, se propose d’étudier les raisons qui poussèrent les confessions méthodistes, à se doter, les unes après les autres, à partir des années 1860, de rituels, et comment ceux-ci furent conçus. Enfin, nous étudierons dans quelle mesure les liturgies méthodistes du XIXe et du XX e siècles sont inspirées du Book of Common Prayer, et dans quelle mesure elles s’en écartent.

INDEX

Mots-clés: anglicanisme, méthodisme, culte, John Wesley, liturgie Keywords: Anglicanism, Methodism, worship, John Wesley, liturgy

AUTHOR

JÉRÔME GROSCLAUDE

Université Blaise Pascal Clermont-Ferrand

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Anglican Liturgy as a Model for the Italian Church? The Italian Translation of the Book of Common Prayer by George Frederick Nott in 1831 and its Re-edition in 1850 La liturgie anglicane, modèle pour l’Eglise italienne ? Les traductions italiennes du Book of Common Prayer par George Frederick Nott en 1831 et sa réédition en 1850.

Stefano Villani

Three seventeenth-century translations: between propaganda and patronage

1 The first Italian translation of the Book of Common Prayer was made in 1608 for Paolo Sarpi, the theological and canonistic consultant of the Republic of Venice. The translation, by William Bedell, chaplain to the English ambassador to Venice, Sir Henry Wotton, was clearly done for propaganda purposes. The Interdict — when the Republic of Venice was “excommunicated” in 1606 because of a jurisdictional conflict with Rome — had raised hopes of a possible Venetian schism in England. Both Wotton and Bedell did everything they could to encourage this, including distributing Italian translations of the Holy Scriptures and Latin propaganda writings among Venetian intellectuals who could influence the policy of the Republic in an anti-Roman direction. In their view the Church of England, an episcopal church which claimed apostolic continuity, could serve as a possible model for Venetian reformers. For obvious reasons, they saw Paolo Sarpi as a key, strategic figure in Venice. The translation of the Anglican liturgy into Italian was made with the idea of presenting the Church of England as an alternative model to Roman Catholicism, yet distinct from other Protestant Churches. The

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translation evidently did not just want to show Venetian readers a vernacular liturgy that maintained the charm of the Catholic liturgy, but also as a theology conceived as a middle way between the extremes of Popery and Protestantism. This strategy, of course, ended in naught. Bedell returned to England, and then moved to Ireland where in 1629 he became Bishop of Kilmore and Ardagh. His translation remained in manuscript form with no known copies; Sarpi’s manuscripts burned in the fire of the Servite monastery in 1769 and Bedell’s library was dispersed during the anti-English rebellion of 1641.1

2 In 1661, in London, Alessandro Amidei made a new Italian translation. Amidei, an adventurer, though not devoid of talent, was an ambiguous figure. He was almost certainly a Tuscan Jew who converted to Catholicism and later went to England where he joined the Church of England, trying to make a living teaching Hebrew and Italian. But he was also involved in a murky poisoning incident. In all likelihood this translation was not conceived with the intention of being published. The manuscript, which is now preserved in the British Library, was written in elegant handwriting and the front-page carries a quotation in Hebrew from the Pirkei Avot. The translation was certainly done to gain the protection of a patron, probably Charles II, recently returned to his kingdom, and it is no coincidence that in the same years Amidei prepared another manuscript of Avvisi politici to be presented to the king, presumably for the same purpose.2 3 The first printed edition in Italian of the Book of Common Prayer was published in London in 1685.3 Since an Italian Protestant Church in England no longer existed when this translation was published, it was apparently not meant for use in worship locally. Moreover, the Italian Protestant Church in London, founded in 1550 and dissolved probably around 1663, had never adopted Anglican worship and both from the institutional and liturgical points of view had always been a Calvinist Church.4 4 While the translator of this last edition was Italian, its editor was an Anglican cleric, Edward Brown, a former Cambridge student, who served as a chaplain to the British ambassador at the Ottoman court for four years. On his return, Brown exercised his ministry as vicar of several parishes in southern England and devoted himself to scholarly pursuits. The foreword to the reader stated that when Brown was in Constantinople he often celebrated and preached in Italian (the Mediterranean lingua franca) for the benefit of some French Protestants. This experience induced him to prepare a full translation “in the nicest Italian language,” also with the prospect of a new Italian Protestant congregation in London that may conform to Anglican worship. 5 Despite this explicit reference to possible liturgical use, it is clear that this translation, like Bedell and Sarpi’s nearly eighty years before, was effected exclusively to serve propaganda purposes rather than worship. In the year of the publication of Brown’s translation Charles II had died and an openly Catholic sovereign with an Italian wife, , had come to the throne of England. Although it is possible that this text was intended for the Italians around the Queen, it seems more likely that it was a sort of poisoned gift to the new queen, to demonstrate the excellence and beauty of Church of England worship in a moment of danger. Brown was a militant Protestant scholar who collected anti-Catholic texts. It is therefore very significant that in the introduction to his translation he recalled Sarpi’s version, whose Lettere italiane scritte al signor dell’Isola Groslot he translated into English in 1693.5

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The Book of Common Prayer as a teaching aid for learning Italian

6 The translation of the Book of Common Prayer edited by Brown was republished in 1708 by the Huguenot publisher Pierre de Varenne, and then, with some revisions, in 1733 by Alexander Gordon, a Scotsman. In his foreword, Gordon made a reference to the hope that this translation could be used by a restored Italian Protestant church in London — as a matter of fact in the late 1600s and early 1700s some attempts at such a restoration had been made. He added, however, that this version of the Anglican liturgy could be used as a teaching aid for Italian.6 Any good Englishman knew the words of the Common Prayer Book by heart and could easily follow the meaning of the Italian phrases and words even before acquiring a basic vocabulary. In fact, apparently, the Duke of Wellington had learned Spanish thanks to this method.7

7 It is very likely that a similar reason also motivated Antonio Montucci and Luigi Valetti to translate the Book of Common Prayer again at the end of the 18th century. Unlike Gordon’s edition, this was a completely new translation of the text, different from the one edited by Brown. It was published in London in 1796. Significantly, in support of the hypothesis that the translation had been designed for “linguistic” rather than for liturgical reasons the two authors presented themselves on the title page as “teachers of the Italian language.” Montucci, a prominent sinologist, had links with the Bible Society, suggesting some evangelical sensibility, although he apparently never left the Catholic Church and was eventually buried under the altar of a church in a Benedictine monastery in Siena.8 8 A revised edition of the Montucci-Valetti version was reprinted in London in 1820 by Giovanni Battista Rolandi.9 Rolandi, a Piedmontese already established as an engineer in Lombardy, settled in London after the Restoration, perhaps out of contempt for the Austrian regime. In England, he befriended the poet and exile Ugo Foscolo and started a publishing and book trade business focused on Italian texts, which was taken over by his brother Pietro after his death in 1825. The new edition of the Prayer Book in Italian, was prominent in a catalog that also included Italian editions of the Bible (1821), the Psalms (1822) and Diodati’s Version of the New Testament (1819 and 1821), along with classics of Italian literature such as Guicciardini’s History of Italy. As in Montucci’s case, Rolandi’s evangelical sensibility is evident; it seems clear that the linguistic and didactic intentions of the text were of particular import in the case of the publication of the Anglican liturgy. This was made further explicit by an appendix of verses by Metastasio that the author inserted at the end of the volume.10 9 In 1821, the publisher Samuel Bagster, who had built a successful publishing house based on the publication of inexpensive polyglot , decided also to publish polyglot editions of the Book of Common Prayer. An edition in eight languages (English, French, Italian, German, Spanish, ancient and modern Greek and Latin) was also published. Both the modern Greek and the Italian sections had been edited by Andreas Calbo, a writer born on the island of Zakynthos, who had accompanied Foscolo in England in 1816 as his secretary and later published some odes in modern Greek, which earned him a prominent place in the literary history of modern Greece.11 The Italian version edited by Calbo was a revised version of the Montucci-Valetti translation, and was published by Bagster numerous times, both in multilingual editions and separately, or

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bound with the New Testament. Once again the principal reason for publishing this translation was pedagogical rather than liturgical or political. 10 Rolandi and Calbo’s ideas were reflections of the same cultural environment in which pre-Risorgimento national political sentiments and disdain for the Catholic Church probably met. That Church was perceived as the guarantor of the hierarchical order of the Restoration. However commercial and didactic reasons almost certainly motivated the publication of the translations. All eighteenth and early nineteenth-century Italian editions of the Book of Common Prayer were works of writers who, even when inspired by thoughts of religious reform, seem to have principally considered the commercial success that a text with such a large market among the many English who came to Italy for the Grand Tour might enjoy. With the exception of Gordon, these translators were Italians who had left their country in search of fortune and freedom. 11 A new chapter in the history of the Italian translations of the Anglican Liturgy was opened in 1831 with the publication of a new translation, this time by an Anglican clergyman (for the first time since the 1685 translation).

George Frederick Nott’s translation

12 George Frederick Nott (1768-1841), an Anglican priest, published this new Italian version in 1831. Coming from a family of clergymen (both his father and grandfather were Anglican ministers), he studied at Oxford and garnered an initial reputation as a theologian and later as a scholar of English literature. Charged with the education of the Prince of Wales’s daughter, he was involved in the feud that divided the royal family and, despite the support of King George III, was fired, for allegedly trying to persuade his pupil to secure him a bishopric. Thanks to his well-known Tory sympathies, the government compensated him by making him prebendary of Winchester. There he supervised the restoration of the cathedral, contributing to some unfortunate decisions, such as the removal of Inigo Jones’s seventeenth-century screen, which was replaced by a neo-Gothic one, so ugly that it was demolished a few years later. Nott was an obstinate character. A disagreement with the dean of the cathedral about where to place an organ led him to apply for a leave of absence pleading plausible health reasons: he had been suffering from frequent migraines since he had fallen from a ladder during his supervision of the restoration of the cathedral. Free from the duties of his prebend, Nott settled in Italy in 1821, where he had served as the tutor of a young Irish nobleman, thirty years earlier during his Grand Tour.

13 Aside from a two-year hiatus beginning in the autumn of 1824, Nott remained in Italy until 1832, leading a busy social life in Pisa, Naples, Sicily, Rome and Florence. This brought him into the acquaintance of known Italian writers — such as Vincenzo Monti, Giovan Battista Niccolini, Giacomo Leopardi — and into friendship with the Prussian Ambassador Christian Karl Josias von Bunsen. In Italy he could devote himself to scholarly studies. He became editor of Dante’s Divine Comedy (in 1828) and of Bosone da Gubbio’ Avventuroso Ciciliano, a fourteenth-century novel (in 1832). He also delighted in archeology and art.12 14 Nott, who came from a wealthy family, financed his expensive scholarly and antiquarian interests by collecting the ecclesiastical revenues of two parishes as an absentee rector. At the time Great Britain was awash with polemics against the abuses of the traditional Anglican clergy and the privileges of old England. These scandals

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were epitomized by non-resident clergy and in the late 1820s and 1830s Nott in particular was held up as a symbol of behavior not becoming to men of the cloth. He became the subject of media campaigns by radical liberals. Major English newspapers even published poisonous anonymous letters allegedly written by his parishioners, who sarcastically asked those who had information on him to come forward since they only had news of him during the collection of tithes. The letters did not fail to disdainfully point out that he had chosen the Pope’s country as his place of residence.13 15 It was almost certainly these attacks that brought Nott to undertake a new translation of the Book of Common Prayer, which, thanks to the money from the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge (SPCK) was published in Livorno, though with false attribution to London, in 1831. It is likely that the translation, which is clearly indebted to Montucci and Valetti, was prepared with the help of a native speaker, but there is likewise no doubt that the initiative was Nott’s, almost certainly serving as a justification for his long stay in Italy. Thanks to this translation he inverted the accusations that presented him as an emblematic, lax clergyman, indifferent to his religious duties. Nott managed to present himself as a champion of Anglicanism, who, just as Brown had done in 1685 with King James II, showed the excellence of the liturgy of the Church of England in the stronghold of Catholicism. A few months after the publication of the book, much to his regret, Nott returned to England.14 16 The book came out at the right time. For a set of political and religious reasons (primarily Catholic Emancipation in 1829 and the birth of the Oxford movement with the publication of the first Tracts for the Time in 1833), some sectors of the Church of England in the 1830s wanted to initiate some form of propaganda against Catholic countries. Malta, which had been occupied by British troops since 1800 and had formally become part of the British Empire in 1814, gradually came to serve as a springboard for propaganda targeting Italy. To this end a branch of the interdenominational Bible Society was established on the island in 1819.15 17 In this context Nott’s translation could play a role. The SPCK was already planning its re-edition in 1834, since the copies of the 1831 edition had sold out. However, some theological objections had been made with respect to Nott’s text. This led to the Foreign Translation Committee of the SPCK asking Gabriele Rossetti, professor of Italian language and literature at King’s College, to examine the text carefully to identify any error and to suggest possible changes in 1834.16 18 One of the controversial issues was the way in which Nott had translated the fourth commandment rendering the word Sabbath with the phrase “il giorno di riposo” “day of rest,” to avoid the ambiguity that would result from the use of the word Sabbath for an Italian ear.17 Another controversial issue was that the word “Minister” was translated as “Prete” (“Priest”).18 Rossetti gave the Foreign Translation Committee of the SPCK a copy with all his comments and corrections, which was sent to Nott for his opinion. In March 1835 Nott answered that he would carefully examine the proposed amendments and would let them know what he thought. However, at the same time he told them that he had already personally reviewed the whole translation having in mind its possible second publication.19 Two months later – in May – Nott wrote to the SPCK to let them know that he could not accept all the corrections proposed by Rossetti and therefore he would speedily finalize a second edition of his version that he hoped would be considered positively by the Society.20 In the following months he took some of the comments into consideration and accepted at least two of the amendments

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proposed by Rossetti in the – though it had taken the intervention of the bishop of Winchester.21 In July, Nott asked if the committee objected to the use of the Diodati’s version of the Bible for the Psalms and the quotations from Scriptures. Obviously, someone had objected to the way in which he had rendered scriptural passages and Nott wanted to deflect criticism by emphasizing that he was quoting from an ancient and approved translation.22 19 All these exchanges seemed to indicate that the publication of the revised edition was imminent. In the early months of 1836 Nott apparently changed his mind and made it known that he would publish a new edition at his own expense. He did, however, consent to send the draft to the SPCK; in the event that the Society considered it satisfactory, a further printing could be published at their expense. The SPCK had no objections and waited.23 In the summer of 1836 Nott sent the first proofs to the Foreign Translation Committee.24 In April 1837, some newspapers wrote that this new edition was to be published shortly.25 But nothing happened. It is very likely that this delay was due to Nott’s health problems. Based on the testimony of Emiliano Sarti, an Italian philologist friend of his, Nott lost his mental faculties as he entered into his seventies.26 20 Nott died at Winchester in October 1841.27 The executors of his will got in touch with the SPCK to offer the new edition of the translation that Nott had already revised and printed, but that remained to be bound, at a price of £100.28 The Society, however, declined the offer. There had been no news from Nott for some years and this had convinced them that the promised new edition would never come. For this reason, the Foreign Translation Committee had decided to entrust the revision of Nott’s text, following Rossetti’s suggested changes, to Giovan Battista Di Menna, an Abruzzese ex- Capuchin, who had joined the Church of England, and to George William David Evans, an Anglican minister. The work was completed in a satisfactory manner shortly before Nott’s death, allowing the SPCK to publish their edition also in 1841.29 The copyright and already printed copies of Nott’s translation were purchased by Thomas Sims, an Anglican priest, then the minister of a parish in the area.30 21 The new edition of Nott’s translation, revised by Di Menna and Evans, was promoted by the SPCK almost certainly with the idea to distribute copies among Italian intellectuals and clerics who might be interested in working towards reform in the Catholic Church. Their audience was principally the Italian exiles who in England had grown fond of the Church of England and the former priests and monks, most of whom had come to England through Malta and Gibraltar to start a new life. Sims, however, almost certainly had a completely different project and audience in mind.

Thomas Sims and the Waldensian Church

22 Thomas Sims (1785-1864) was born in Wales and spent much of his youth in Bristol before beginning studies at Cambridge. Imbued with evangelical ideals, he was ordained as a priest in the Church of England in 1813. He was committed to the Church Missionary Society and linked to the so-called Clapham Sect, the most important evangelical group of those years. On a trip to Europe in 1814 his curiosity was stirred by the Waldenses. He decided to visit the Waldensian valleys in Piedmont, where he met Rodolphe Peyran, Moderator of the Venerable Table, and Pierre Bert, Adjunct Moderator. Sims was fascinated by the history of this people, mistakenly convinced of

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the apostolic origins of the Waldensian Church, which actually came into being in the twelfth century.

23 Since , England had maintained close relations with the Waldenses, providing them with substantial economic aid and political support. The subsidies were ended, however, when the valleys passed under the rule of revolutionary France in 1797. Back home, Sims pledged to restore these funds by publishing a pamphlet that once more brought the story of the Waldenses to the attention of English intellectuals – a genuine pro-Waldensian mania soon erupted in England. 24 After this first trip Sims returned to the valleys twice, in 1821 and in 1828, and contributed to a number of important initiatives. He started a collection to build a hospital in Torre to remove the Waldenses from the care of Catholic institutions and to fund rural schools and schools for girls. Thanks to his advice a Waldensian Bible Society was established in the valleys and the New Testament was published in a French-patois bilingual edition (patois here refers to the dialect of the valleys) and in Piedmontese. In England, he published various writings on the history and the theology of the Waldensian Church. 25 In 1834 Pierre Bert died. For twenty years he had been Sims’s point of reference in the valleys and Sims subsequently stopped dealing directly with the Waldenses. He instead directed his efforts towards the education and religious morals of the lower classes, missionary activity in Africa and the reform of the Church of England, as evidenced by a wide publishing activity. 26 Many of the projects that he had initiated were taken up by William Stephen Gilly, canon of since 1827, and by the retired colonel, John Charles Beckwith. In 1824, the former published the first edition of an account of his journey in the Waldensian valleys which soon became a best-seller. This stirred the Venerable Waldensian Committee of London to raise funds on the Waldenses’ behalf in May 1825. The latter, inspired by Gilly’s book, went to the valleys annually from 1828 until 1850 before settling there permanently. Beckwith organized the use of funds sent by British benefactors with military discipline. Among the most significant examples, it was thanks to him that a network of rural schools was established, that the Latin School of Torre was created, that the temples of Torre Pellice, Rorà, Roderetto, were built, and that the hospital was finished.31 27 Sims, Gilly and Beckwith shared the idea that the Waldensian Church could become the nucleus from which to launch a missionary offensive in Italy. This was rooted in the myth of the apostolic origins of the churches of the valleys and to the equally mythical vision that equated the Table Moderator to a bishop.32 It was for this reason that Sims, upon hearing of Nott’s death, came forward to buy not only the copyright but also the already printed copies of his Italian translation of the Book of Common Prayer. The idea was to offer the Church of England as a model to the Waldenses, both in terms of organizational structure and liturgy. Sims, in his contacts with Italy, convinced himself that the Book of Common Prayer could be an important tool for evangelization, not only for the Waldenses, but also for Italian Catholics. Its liturgy “containing so much of the devotional language of the early Christian churches”, cleansed from the “rubbish and superstition inserted during the medieval dark ages.” So it was a text suited to revive “in corrupted churches and countries sentiments and practices of a truly evangelical character.”33 In essence, therefore, it was a similar to the Catholic liturgy but devoid of the superstitious elements of medieval scholasticism.

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28 To deploy this ambitious project it was first necessary to convince the Waldensian pastors of the need to make changes that would prepare their churches to meet new tasks and demands. Both the governance of the churches of the valleys and their liturgy were too “Protestant” to appeal to a country like Italy which had built its cultural identity on the Catholic Church, since the Counter-Reformation. At a time when the intellectual classes and leaders of the Italian states were addressing the question of escaping foreign domination to overcome political fragmentation, the Anglican friends of the Waldenses thought it would be a tragic mistake to propose a Church model which, being Protestant, would be perceived as alien to the Italian tradition. Consequently, the Waldenses would have to eliminate the superstructures that religious conflicts had imposed on them when the original Christian church of the valleys of Piedmont adhered to the Reformation in 1532. 29 Sims, Gilly and Beckwith were convinced that the Church of England was closest to the apostolic model, both for its governing structure and liturgy, and could therefore serve as a model for a renewed Waldensian Church. As a via media between Counter- Reformation Catholicism and Protestantism, Anglicanism, not only represented the closest thing to the origins of Waldensianism, but could also be an attractive model for Italians and would contribute to infusing the nascent political “Risorgimento” with issues of moral and religious reform. With typical Anglo-Saxon pragmatism, rather than emphasizing or discussing theological issues which would be comprehensible only to a small elite, promoters of this idea believed that the most important things were those that all churchgoers would understand immediately, such as the organizational structure of the Church and the liturgy. 30 With respect to the liturgy, the Waldenses did not have their own but used that of the Reformed Churches in and their pastors, depending on their preferences, could use that of Geneva, Lausanne or Neuchatel. In 1824, Pierre Bert, who had become Moderator the year before, thought he would compose an indigenous one. The project was not carried out, but the fact that this proposal was made ​​at that time, just after Sims’s second trip in the valleys and the meeting with Gilly, suggests that pressure by the Anglican friends on the Moderator probably had some effect. This conjecture is also based on the fact that it was Gilly who, some years later in 1829, was at pains to obtain the consent of the Waldenses to introduce a uniform liturgy for all the communities that, in his view, should conform to the Anglican rite.34 31 A commission was appointed which, contrary to the wish of their British friends, decided not to use the Book of Common Prayer as a model, but the traditional Swiss Reformed liturgies. The final text was largely written by George Muston, who studied in Lausanne and was at the time modérateur adjoint of the Waldensian Church. Subjected to several rounds of revision, it was published in 1837. The Venerable Table asked the pastors to use this liturgy and no other in the celebration of public worship.35 Despite the initial disappointment, the fact that the Waldenses finally had their own liturgy was interpreted by their British friends as a step towards a greater independence in relation to the Swiss Reformed.36 32 In the autumn of 1837 Colonel Beckwith wrote to the Waldensian pastors inviting them to vest the Moderator with a life tenure.37 He had discussed this extensively with the Moderator Jean-Pierre Bonjour, who probably shared his ideas. Beckwith had been in agreement in the past with Bonjour’s now deceased father-in-law Pierre Bert who,

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according to Gilly, had once said that he would consider favorably the restoration of the ancient discipline of the Waldensian Church in its pure episcopal form.38 33 Beckwith’s proposal was opposed both by the young, more directly influenced by the theology of the Réveil, as well as by the older generation, who feared change. This explains why the synod, held in April of 1839, did not even add Beckwith’s proposal to the agenda.39 The leaders of the Church probably also feared political consequences. The Savoy government interpreted the British efforts to influence the Waldenses as attempts to “induce those religionists to join the Anglican Church” and considered the proposed transformation of the office of Moderator “into a bishopric” according to the English model as a first step in adopting other changes. They manifested their strong opposition on the very same grounds which Beckwith had advocated – that it would strengthen the structure and appeal of the Waldensian Church.40 The Synod of 1839 was delayed by a few months because the government of Savoy, before granting the necessary approval for it to gather, wanted to understand clearly what changes to ecclesiastical discipline were being proposed.41 34 The idea of spreading the Italian translation of the Book of Common Prayer, starting from the valleys, where very few actually spoke the language, was part of this intense debate that went on for years to come. Despite the disappointment of 1839 Beckwith did not give up. In 1848, when the King of Sardinia granted the Waldenses political emancipation, allowing them to build their own places of worship outside of the valley, Beckwith was very clear as to the Waldenses’ duty towards Italy : “You will be missionaries or will be nothing,” he wrote to his friends in the valleys. For this reason, in 1850, he proposed the adoption of a liturgy which he elaborated in close imitation of the Anglican rite, which he published anonymously, and, significantly, in Italian.42 However, again in this case his proposal fell on deaf ears. It was welcomed by an embarrassed silence and was not even discussed by the synod of 1851.43

The new edition of Nott’s translation (1850)

35 It is very likely that the previously printed copies of Nott’s edition bought by Sims had been sent into the valleys as early as 1841. It was only in 1850 that the Prayer-Book and Homily Society – to which Sims had granted the copyright – finally decided to re-issue the volume. The edition included as an appendix the Latin text of the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England. Nott had introduced numerous revisions about fifteen years earlier, but these were often purely linguistic and did not always improve the text, which in both editions completely lacks the beauty of the English original. Some translation mistakes were corrected and the Scriptural citations were consistent with the Diodati translation. Contrary to what the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge had once asked, the word “minister” continued to be translated as “prete.”44

36 It is likely that the almost ten years that separate Sims’s purchase of the copyright and the publication are due to the fact that the new edition of the same translation revised by Di Menna and Evans appeared in 1841. Possibly Sims and the Prayer-Book and Homily Society simply thought that there was no market for another edition. In theory, a similar risk would have existed in 1850 because the SPCK had published two editions of the Di Menna-Evans edition shortly before – the first in 1848, with no changes from the 1841 version, and the second in 1849, after a further revision by a certain “Mr. Davies formerly of Caius College”.45 But by this time the Italian situation had changed radically

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compared to a few years before. The Risorgimento turmoil gave the hope not only of a “political revolution” but also of a religious reform. What was happening in the valleys, both from the political point of view, with the emancipation of 1848, and from a religious point of view, with Beckwith’s previously discussed attempts, apparently re- launched Sims’s project.46 37 In 1864 – three years after the proclamation of the Kingdom of Italy, which also marked the opportunity for the Waldenses to build churches outside the boundaries of the old Kingdom of Sardinia – Sims published a new book dedicated to the Waldenses: Visits to the Valleys of Piedmont. It was a sort of spiritual testament since Sims died in the same year and it contained his first work published in 1815 in favor of the Waldenses. The final pages of this volume are devoted to the dissemination of the Italian version of the Book of Common Prayer among the Waldenses.47 38 Sims also published some letters written to the Secretary of the Prayer-book and Homily Society by Christian Lazarus Lauria and Christopher Webb Smith. Lauria was then a missionary in Italy for the London Society for Promoting Christianity Amongst the Jews.48 In the letter written in Turin on May 7 1861, Lauria thanked the Secretary for the Italian copies of the Prayer-Book and Homilies that had been sent to him the previous year. He explained that among the “papists”, the words “Protestant” and “Atheist” were considered synonymous and that to destroy this prejudice there was nothing better than to show those texts. Christopher Webb Smith, an official of the East India Company who moved to Florence in his retirement in 1842, planned to print copies of the Common Prayer Book in Italian at the Waldenses’ publishing house – the Claudiana press – in Florence, though as far as we know this project did not go ahead.49 Sims was enthused by these letters and other statements that described how some fifty missionaries were traveling up and down Italy to spread the pure gospel of the Waldenses. He ended his book expressing the hope that wealthy Britons would continue to support the cause of Italian evangelization. In his view the training of ministers and missionaries in Florence and the dissemination of Scripture and of the Book of Common Prayer in Italian could increase the number of the faithful.

Conclusion

39 Nott was a conservative both in politics and religion. A Tory and a high-church man he published his translation in 1831 almost certainly to justify his absence from England and to defend himself against allegations of dereliction of pastoral duties. But, verifying the classic aphorism that says that books have a life and will of their own – habent sua fata libelli – in the hands of an evangelical like Sims, his translation became an instrument of proselytism. While this is not the place to discuss in detail the goals of the other revisions, made by Di Menna and Evans, Davies and Camilleri,50 they certainly testify to illusions cultivated by some in the English religious and political establishment. They wished to present the Anglican Church to Italian liberal and anti- curial clerics as a model challenging the primacy of Rome, and to strengthen a Church of Italy where the bishop of Rome did not have universal ambitions. It was a perspective that can perhaps be defined as neo-Sarpian.

40 This was, as we have seen, also an illusion under which Sims operated. What distinguished Sims’s attempt from those of the SPCK, that promoted and disseminated the other revisions in Italy, was his belief that the Waldensian Church could be used to

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launch the Reformation of Italy. The attempt to offer the Anglican liturgy as a model to the Waldenses proved unsuccessful. There is, however, no doubt that the delusion about being able to bring some Anglican influence to bear on the ancient Waldensian church ignited tremendous interest in Britain, bringing a flood of money into the valleys and prompting the Waldenses to turn into a national church.

NOTES

1. Stefano Villani, “La prima edizione in italiano del Book of Common Prayer (1685) tra propaganda protestante e memoria sarpiana”, in Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa, XLIV (2008), 24-45; ID., “Italian Translations of the Book of Common Prayer,” in Travels and Translations. Anglo- Italian Cultural Transactions, edited by Alison Yarrington, Stefano Villani, Julia Kelly (Amsterdam/ New York, NY: Rodopi, 2013), 303-319; ID., “Uno scisma mancato: Paolo Sarpi, William Bedell e la prima traduzione in italiano del Book of Common Prayer”, forthcoming in Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa. On the links between Sarpi and the British embassy see Michaela Valente, “Le campane della propaganda : rapporti di reciprocità e conflitto giurisdizionale a Venezia tra Cinque e Seicento”, Laboratoire italien [Online], 3 | 2002, Online since 16 March 2010, connection on 24 July 2014. URL : http://laboratoireitalien.revues.org/369 ; DOI : 10.4000/laboratoireitalien. 369. 2. Stefano Villani, “Un’identità mascherata nell’Inghilterra del Seicento: la vicenda dell’ebraista Alessandro Amidei”, in Quaderni Storici, XLIII (2008), 455-470. On the Avvisi politici see Stefano Villani, “Raccolte di aforismi. Gli Avvertimenti di Alessandro Amidei come plagio e riscrittura di alcune massime di Francesco Guicciardini, Giovan Francesco Lottini e Francesco Sansovino”, forthcoming in Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore – Classe di Lettere e Filosofia. 3. Il libro delle preghiere publiche ed amministrazione de sacramenti ed altri riti e cerimonie della chiesa, secondo l’uso della Chiesa Anglicana insieme col Saltero over i salmi di David, come hanno da esser recitati nelle chiese: e la forma e modo di fare, ordinare e consacrare vescovi, presbiteri e diaconi (Londra: Moses Pitt, 1685); see Stefano Villani, “La prima edizione in italiano del Book of Common Prayer (1685) tra propaganda protestante e memoria sarpiana,” Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa, XLIV (2008), 24-45; Id., “Libri pubblicati in italiano in Inghilterra nel XVII secolo: il caso della traduzione del Book of Common Prayer del 1685,” in Le livre italien hors d’Italie au XVIIe siècle, Actes du colloque du 23-25 avril 2009 réunis par Delphine Montoliu, Collection de l’Ecrit, 12 (Toulouse: Université de Toulouse II, 2010), 91-120. 4. Stefano Villani, The Italian Protestant Church of London in the Seventeenth Century, in Barbara Schaff (ed.), Exiles, Emigrés and Intermediaries Anglo-Italian Cultural Transactions (Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2010), Internationale Forschungen zur Allgemeinen und Vergleichenden Literaturwissenschaft 139, 217-236. 5. Stefano Villani, La prima edizione in italiano del Book of Common Prayer (1685), cit. 6. On the attempts to revive the Italian chapel see Stefano Villani, “La chiesa protestante italiana di Londra nel Seicento,” in E. Valeri, M.A. Visceglia, P. Volpini, Figure e spazi della mediazione culturale nella prima età moderna (Rome: Viella, 2015), 263-285. 7. Philip Henry, 5TH Earl of Stanhope, Notes of Conversations with the Duke of Wellington, 1831-1851 (London: J. Murray, 1888), 291.

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8. La liturgia, ovvero formola delle preghiere publiche secondo l’uso della chiesa anglicana, col Satterio di Davide. Nuovamente tradotta dall’Inglese nel Tosco idioma da A. Montucci e L. Valetti, Si vende appresto di Vernor ed Hood, Birchin Lane, Cornhill e S. Herbert, Great Russel Street Bloomsbury, 1796. On Montucci see Stefano Villani, Montucci, Antonio, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (2012). 9. Liturgia ovvero formola delle preghiere pubbliche secondo l’uso della Chiesa Anglicana; col salterio di Davide. Traduzione italiana corretta, ed aumentata da Giambattista Rolandi con aggiunta di rime sacre, Londra, Si vende da Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor e Lepard, Finsbury square; G. e W.B. Whittaker, Ave-Maria-lane; J. Collingwood, Strand; T. Boosey e Figli, Broad-street; R. Priestley, High Holborn; e B. Dulau e Co. Soho square, 1820. 10. Villani, Italian Translations of the Book of Common Prayer, op. cit. 11. J. Robert Wright, Early translations, in Charles Hefling and Cynthia Shattuck (eds), The Oxford Guide to the Book of Common Prayer. A Worldwide Survey (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 57; Samuel Bagster, Samuel Bagster of London, 1772-1851: An Autobiography (London: Bagster, 1972). 12. Libro delle Preghiere Comuni e dell’amministrazione dei Sacramenti e degli altri riti e ceremonie ecclesiastiche secondo l’uso della Chiesa Unita d’Inghilterra e d’Irlanda, insieme col Salterio o Salmi di David, colle pause da osservarsi nel cantarli, o recitarli in Chiesa, Londra 1831. London was certainly a false imprint because, very probably, the book was published in Livorno by the printing press of Giulio Sardi. See STEFANO VILLANI, George Frederick Nott (1768-1841). Un ecclesiastico anglicano tra teologia, letteratura, arte, archeologia, bibliofilia e collezionismo (Roma: Accademia dei Lincei, 2012), 855-858. 13. Villani, George Frederick Nott (1768-1841), op. cit. 14. Villani, George Frederick Nott (1768-1841), op. cit. 15. See Giorgio Spini, Risorgimento e protestanti (Milano: Il Saggiatore, 1989), 204-205. 16. Cambridge University Library (from now on referred to as Cambridge UL), SPCK.MS A16/1, Foreign Translation Committee, 1834-1844, c. 15. Involved in the revolutionary attempts of 1820, Rossetti fled first to Malta and then in England where he married the Protestant Frances Polidori. Even if he did not join formally the Church of England, he was always a passionate – even if confused – supporter of Italian Evangelism in London. On him see G. Rossetti, La vita mia – Il testamento, con scritti e documenti inediti di William Michael Rossetti, edited by Gianni Oliva (Lanciano: Carabba, 2004). 17. We get this information from a note by Edward Craven Hawtrey, in “Notes and Queries” 1st Series, vol. 12 (21st July 1855), 64; this note is used in R. Cox, The Literature of the Sabbath Question (Maclachlan & Stewart, Edinburgh 1865), 354. 18. Frances Eleanor Trollope, Frances Trollope: Her life and Literary Work from George III. to Victoria (London: R. Bentley & Son, 1895), vol. 1, 195. 19. No copy of Rossetti’s remark is extant. There are many references to it in the minutes the Foreign Translation Committee of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge: Cambridge UL, SPCK.MS A16/1, Foreign Translation Committee, 1834-1844, c. 18 (Monday February 8 1835), Ibid., c. 20 (Monday March 9th 1835). 20. Ibid., c. 24 (Monday May 11th 1835). 21. Ibid., c. 26 (Monday June 8th 1835). 22. Ibid., cc. 29-30 (Monday July 13th 1835). 23. Ibid., c. 51 (Monday January 11th 1836); Ibid., c. 61 (Monday April 11th 1836). Cf. also Ibid., c. 40 (Monday November 9th 1835). 24. Ibid., c. 68 (Monday July 11th 1836). 25. ““Dorset County Chronicle”, March 1837; “The Aberdeen Journal” (1 March 1837), Issue 4651. 26. G. Pelliccioni, Un archeologo romano della prima metà del secolo (Emiliano Sarti), “Nuova Antologia” vol. 30, Serie II (15 novembre 1881), 173-202 (republished also in A. Viti, Vite di romani illustri, Nuova Tipografia dell’Orfanotrofio Comunale, Roma 1890, vol. 3, 59-109).

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27. Cambridge UL, SPCK.MS A16/1, Foreign Translation Committee, 1834-1844, c. 205, 13 Dec. 1841. 28. Cf. SPINI, Risorgimento e protestanti, op. cit., 205. 29. Libro delle Preghiere Comuni, e dell’amministrazione dei Sacramenti, e degli altri riti e cerimonie ecclesiastiche, secondo l’uso della Chiesa unita d’Inghilterra e d’Irlanda: insieme col Salterio o Salmi di David, colla forma e modo di fare, ordinare, e consacrare vescovi, sacerdoti, e diaconi, Londra, G. M’Dowall, stampatore, 1841. For the vicissitudes of this revision see Cambridge UL, SPCK.MS A16/1, Foreign Translation Committee, 1834-1844, c. 205, 13 Dec. 1841, see David N. Griffiths, The Bibliography of the Book of Common Prayer, 1549-1999 (London, British Library, 2002), particularly, for the Italian versions see 513-515 (num. 66.8). 30. In a sheet inserted between the pages 124 e 125 of the copy of the sale catalogue of Nott’s library kept in the archives of the Cathedral of Winchester (DC/L/3/1) there is a note that says that Sims acquired the copyright and 500 copies of the Libro delle Preghiere Comuni for 13 Sterling pounds (“Copyright Italian Liturgy by Dr. Nott & 500 copies”), see a similar note in the catalogue kept in the Hampshire Record Office, 11M70/B7/91. 31. For a complete biographical study of Thomas Sims see Stefano Villani, “Dal Galles alle Valli: Thomas Sims (1785-1864) e la riscoperta britannica dei valdesi”, in Bollettino della Società di Studi Valdesi 215 (2014): 103-171. Il Nuovo Testamento in piemontese – ‘L Liber d’i Salm dë David tradout ën lingua Piemounteisa = Il libro de’ Salmi di David, [London], W. M’Dowall, 1840 [“Published by the British and Foreign Bible Society”] – was published by the same press of the Di Menna-Evans revision. 32. W. S. Gilly 1824, Narrative of an Excursion to the Mountains of Piemont, and Researches Among the Vaudois, or Waldenses (London: C. & J. Rivington, 1824), 74. 33. T. Sims, Visits to the Valleys of Piedmont; Including a Brief Memoir Respecting the Waldenses (London: 1864), 63-72. 34. See Viviana Genre, William Stephen Gilly e i viaggi nelle valli valdesi, tesi di laurea, Università degli Studi di Torino, Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia, corso di laurea in Lingue e Letterature moderne, a. a. 2003-2004, relatore prof.ssa Giuliana Ferreccio, 57, 82-84; Bruno Bellion, Il rinnovamento delle chiese valdesi nella prima metà del secolo XIX, Tesi discussa alla Facoltà Valdese di teologia (Rome, 1964-65), 54, 102-103. 35. La liturgie ou la manière de célébrer le service divin, comme elle est établie dans les Eglises Evangéliques des Vallées du Piémont. Par ordre du Synode (Edimbourgh : 1837); Liturgie Vaudois, ou la manière de célébrer le service divin comme elle est établie dans l’Eglise Evangélique des Vallées Vaudoises du Piémont. Par ordre du Synode (Lausanne: 1842, another reprint Pinerolo: 1872). See Viviana Genre, William Stephen Gilly, op. cit., 82-84, 106-107. 36. A new edition was published in 1842 with some changes, including a formula for the Burial service, composed by Jean Pierre Bonjour – Pierre Bert’s son in law – largely influenced by the Anglican one. 37. F. Giampiccoli, J. Charles Beckwith. Il Generale dei valdesi (1789-1862) (Torino: Claudiana, 2012), 83. 38. Viviana Genre, William Stephen Gilly, op. cit., 208. 39. See Spini, Risorgimento e protestanti, op. cit., 311-312; Giampiccoli, J. Charles Beckwith, op. cit. 40. Archivio di Stato di Torino, Materie Ecclesiastiche, Cat. XXXVIII, mazzo 4 “Carteggio relativo all’autorizzazione per il Sinodo delle Chiese valdesi” quoted in Giampiccoli, J. Charles Beckwith, 98-104. 41. Cambridge UL, Lettera di Gilly a Robert Pott, 10 giu, 1839, cit. in Genre, William Stephen Gilly, op. cit., 105; Vinay, Facoltà Valdese di Teologia 1855-1955 (Torre Pellice: Claudiana, 1955). 42. [Beckwith], Saggio di liturgia secondo le dottrine della sacra scriptura ad uso dei semplici (Pinerolo: Tipografia di G. Chiantore, 1850). 43. Genre, William Stephen Gilly, cit., 137-138.

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44. Il Libro delle preghiere pubbliche, e dell’amministratione de’ sacramenti, ed altri riti e cerimonie ecclesiastiche, secondo l’uso della Chiesa Unita d’Inghilterra e d’Irlanda, coi Salmi di David. In fine, in lingua latina, i XXXIX articoli della religione (London, Prayer-Book and Homily Society, 1850). 45. Cambridge UL, SPCK.MS A16/2, Foreign Translation Committee, 1844-1853, c. 141 Monday April 19 1847; Ibid., c. 149 Monday June 7 1847. Cambridge UL, SPCK.MS A16/2, Foreign Translation Committee, 1844-1853, c. 155 (Saturday July 3 1847). 46. See Alberto Revel, “Il Culto Cristiano”, in Rivista Cristiana III (1875), 82-89, 121-129, 159-169, in part. 163-167. 47. Sims, Visits to the Valleys of Piedmont, cit., 52, 63-72. 48. On Lauria see Stefano Villani, “Christianus Lazarus Lauria e l’attività della London Society for the Propagation of Christianity among the Jews in Italia”, forthcoming in Annali di Storia dell’Eseges XXXIV/1(2017). 49. SIMS, Visits to the Valleys of Piedmont, cit., 64-67. 50. When Sims published his last book, a further revision of Nott’s translation made by the SPCK had already appeared. Its author was Michel Angelo Camilleri, a former Roman Catholic Maltese priest, who had joined the Church of England (it was published in 1861 and reissued in 1863, 1870, 1880, 1882, 1888, 1915, and, perhaps, in 1929). Ibid., 63-72.

ABSTRACTS

The first manuscript Italian translation of the Book of Common Prayer was made in 1608 by the chaplain to James I’s ambassador in Venice with the help of Paolo Sarpi. This translation was part of an English propaganda plan to instigate a schism in the Church of Venice. A completely different translation was printed in London in 1685, for propaganda reasons, as a sort of poisoned gift to the Catholic King, James II. A significant number of Italian translations of the Book of Common Prayer were made in the 18th and 19th centuries. They served purposes that often had nothing to do with worship, including providing a convenient way for English people to learn Italian. In 1831 George Frederick Nott prepared a new translation of the Book of Common Prayer, which was published in Livorno, though with false attribution to London. The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge (SPCK) used this Italian version to promote the Church of England as a possible model for a reformation of the Roman Catholic Church. In the 19th century, a number of Anglicans vainly engaged in attempts to convince the Waldensian Church to become the instrument of the conversion of Italy to Protestantism thanks to its adoption of episcopacy and the Book of Common Prayer.

En 1608, le chapelain de l’ambassadeur de Venise à la cour de Jacques Ier, aidé de Paolo Scarpi produisit une traduction manuscrite du Book of Common Prayer en italien. Cette traduction avait une fonction de propagande et était destinée à encourager l’Eglise de Venise au schisme. En 1685, une nouvelle traduction en italien, complètement différente, fut publiée à Londres. Elle aussi faisait partie d’un dispositif de propagande, tout en constituant, par la même occasion, un cadeau empoisonné au nouveau souverain, catholique, Jacques II. Au cours des XVIIIè et XIXè siècles, de nombreuses autres traductions furent publiées, à des fins très variées et souvent non liturgiques, par exemple pour servir d’outil dans l’apprentissage de l’italien. En 1831, George Frederick Nott prépara une nouvelle traduction du Book of Common Prayer, publiée à Livourne mais avec une page

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de titre indiquant Londres comme lieu de publication. Avec cette traduction, la Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge (SPCK) voulut promouvoir une réforme de l’Eglise catholique sur le modèle de l’Eglise anglicane. Enfin, au XIXè siècle, plusieurs anglicans cherchèrent en vain à faire de l’Eglise vaudoise un instrument de conversion de l’Italie au protestantisme, en l’encourageant à adopter le Book of Common Prayer et un gouvernement épiscopal.

INDEX

Mots-clés: liturgie, Eglise anglicane, Italie, traduction, Eglise vaudoise Keywords: liturgy, Anglican Church, Italy, translation, Waldensian Church

AUTHOR

STEFANO VILLANI

University of Maryland

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The Influence of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer on the ‘Bersier Liturgy’ and French Protestant Worship L’Influence du Book of Common Prayer sur la ‘liturgie de Bersier’ et le protestantisme français

Stuart Ludbrook

1 Anglican liturgy has also made its influence felt in denominations outside the English- speaking world and with no historical links with the Church of England. Liturgical reforms in the French Reformed Church in the 19th century provide an example of how the Anglican liturgical tradition was used as a major resource for spiritual renewal in a francophone, non-Anglican setting.

2 In 1874, the Swiss protestant pastor Eugene Bersier (Morges 1831, Paris 1889)1 published the first edition of what we shall call the “Bersier Liturgy”.2 It was introduced, on 29th November 1874, into his congregation in Paris, at the Dedication of the “Temple de l’Étoile”. A second definitive edition appeared in 1876. Later printings contain minor corrections. We shall use the 1876 edition. 3 The “Bersier Liturgy” had lasting influence on French Reformed worship and some of its characteristics can still be encountered today. For instance, a verse of a hymn was sung as an unannounced response at several points during the first part of the service. This trait, hugely opposed at first, is still a regular feature of French Reformed worship. This service-book not only breaks with Protestant liturgical use in 19th century France, it also reintroduces features into French Reformed worship that go back to Calvin. In so doing it applies the materials imported from the Church of England and reshapes them to French Protestant culture3.

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The 1876 “Bersier Liturgy” pioneers liturgical renewal in French Protestantism

4 The first edition of the “Bersier Liturgy” opens with the Sunday Services, morning and evening. Then follow Liturgies for Baptism, Communion, Marriage and Burial. The second edition adds a general prayer for each Sunday of the month as well as verses and prayers for the Christian Year: Christmas, New Year, Palm Sunday, Good Friday, Easter, Ascension and . A Service is also surprisingly given for Nov. 1st (All Saints) considered as Reformation Sunday to celebrate the universal Church. Together these prayers give a remarkable overview of salvation history and are one of the most enduring aspects of Bersier’s liturgical reform. Bersier tried to avoid hollow phrases or religious sentimentalism in his prayers which combine poetry and a desire to teach. He customarily resorts to rich biblical imagery. His “Prayer for Christmas Day” (Morning service) is a good example: Jesus, Redeemer of all peoples, Begotten of the Father before the rising of the first dawn: Bright Morning Star, eternal Word, Light and splendour of the Father, Visible image of the invisible God, Sun of Righteousness, whose rays bring us healing and life; you have risen on the world asleep in the shadow of death, and your Radiance will have no end.4 In the Morning Service for November 1st, his prayer underlines the specific contribution of the Protestant Reformation: O Lord, you have been our Deliverer, we celebrate this day remembering your mercies. Unworthy to dwell with you, we were incapable by ourselves to merit your forgiveness. Yet, you have revealed to us your saving grace and granted us access by faith; you have freed us from all fear placing in our hearts the Spirit of adoption by whom we can call upon you as a Father. 5 5 The two final sections of the “Bersier Liturgy” are headed respectively “Sacraments” and “Church Acts”. The former includes “Baptism for Adults”, “Admission to Holy Communion”, three orders for “Communion”; the latter has orders of service for “the Ordination of a Minister,” "the Induction of a new pastor” and “the Consecration of a Church”. Next follow services for “Days of Fasting” or “Thanksgiving.” The second edition of the book ends, as in 1874, with the Marriage and Burial Services. Bersier gave birth to a French Prayer Book that encompasses regular services and rites of passage. As such, its scope is comparable to that of the Book of Common Prayer.

6 Furthermore, the “Bersier liturgy” also presents some similarities in content to Anglican services. At this juncture, we mention two features in particular that did not pass unnoticed. His Liturgy prescribes kneeling at several points. This was supposed to conform to Huguenot practise. The 1662 Prayer-Book restored “the Declaration on Kneeling” and “Kneeling” is stipulated during the penitential parts in both the Offices and the Communion Service. Sung liturgical responses, imitating Anglican cathedral style, were introduced with a simple musical setting by his sister-in-law Henriette Hollard.6 7 However, this “Bersier Liturgy” should be clearly differentiated from his “Liturgical Project” (1888).7 The French Lutheran theologian and lecturer Robert Will 8 failed to make this distinction and so contributes to obscure the more radical elements of the “Bersier Liturgy”. The “Liturgical Project” is a proposal to revise existing French Reformed liturgy. Bersier produced a full scale service book with a lengthy theoretical and historical introduction to French-speaking Reformed worship and extensive

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ongoing critical commentary. It is a monumental achievement and a major resource work for all of Bersier’s liturgical production. It is understandable that this technical liturgical work was thought to be the “Bersier Liturgy”. It was to be submitted to the Reformed Synod and had been prepared at their request. The Protestant historian André Encrevé classifies it as: “an intermediate liturgy between the ‘Bersier liturgy’ and that of the French Reformed Churches”9. The “Liturgical Project” (1888) contains some improvements on linguistic and stylistic grounds and occasionally a greater choice of prayers, notably for the Burial Service; and this prayer to be said before the Creed: Lord, we give you thanks for you have called us to the knowledge of salvation through faith in Jesus-Christ, our Redeemer. Keep us holding the truth that we possess, so that, being subject to the teachings of the Holy Scriptures, each of us might freely confess his faith and say in communion with the universal church...10 8 But the congregational responses are virtually non-existent. It serves a watered-down version of Bersier’s more innovative liturgical reforms, notably for Morning Service and Communion.

9 We should add that Bersier had some success as a hymn writer (he adapted Baxter’s “Ye Holy Angels Bright” using music by Croft, an organist at Westminster Abbey) tailoring hymns for use at major christian festivals and for regular Sunday worship. In this he was inspired by the resurgence of hymnody in Victorian England. He was also an outstanding preacher, well known in England ;11 a selection from his printed sermons appeared as late as 1965.12 10 The importance of the “Bersier Liturgy” in French Protestantism cannot be underestimated. J.-D. Benoît affirms: “The real father of the modern liturgical revival was Eugène Bersier.”13 It represents the first major attempt to create a French Protestant Prayer-Book with services — previously centred on preaching — now encouraging worship and congregational participation through said or sung responses.

Bersier and Anglican Worship

11 The Souvenirs recount the memoirs of Marie Bersier née Hollard, and relate what Bersier said about worship as well as some of his wife’s views on the subject.14 She sums up Bersier’s basic approach: “The innate sympathy that he felt toward the English liturgy did not blind him to the need for restraint in adapting it to the Churches of France.”15

12 She recalls that Bersier’s English mother used to read the Anglican office in her Prayer- Book, and that later on Bersier prayed regularly this liturgy with her.16 During a week- long stay in London in August 1871, Bersier attended Mattins every morning in Westminster Abbey where "the sacred music is so beautiful."17 At the end of 1873, Bersier took himself to “la rue d'Aguesseau” before carrying out his liturgical reform.18 This means he attended services in the Anglican chapel of the British Embassy in Paris, known as St. Michael's Church since the 1970’s. One should also mention his friendship with A.P. Stanley,19 Dean of Westminster Abbey from 1864 and Archbishop Tait.20 These morsels of information, albeit anecdotal, weigh nonetheless when trying to measure the impact of the Book of Common Prayer on Bersier. 13 Amongst Bersier’s numerous writings on liturgical matters the 7th section of his article “Worship" (Culte) in the Lichtenberger encyclopedia is devoted to worship in the Reformation Churches. Firstly Bersier summarises the history of Anglican liturgy presenting the Order for Morning Prayer. He provides no liturgical commentary.21 Even

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so, that he engaged in liturgical research on the Book of Common Prayer is beyond doubt.22 14 To this should be added his frequent criticism of the Oxford Movement. Bersier opposed, on exegetical and historical grounds, the return to overtly catholic devotions promoted by this High Church party. His French liberal Reformed opponents accused him of ritualism, though stopping short of calling him an Anglo-Catholic. They did however scent the Anglican influence on his liturgy: His congregation were artistic and sentimental; he thought he was doing art by introducing erudite responses and paid , painted stained-glass windows and prayers to order. His parishioners were for the most part Anglicans, so he served them with a pastiche of their liturgy.23 15 However, Bersier claims that the prayers of intercession in his liturgy come from Reformed sources24 and his annotations in his “Liturgical Project” bear this out. This polemic has surely contributed to Bersier’s silence concerning his debt to Anglican cathedral style worship.

16 Yet we cannot overlook the neo-gothic architecture of his parish church (imitating the Cambridge Movement) or the reordered interior: the is now central, carrying an open Bible and the pulpit stands on one side. This ordering has become common in French-speaking Reformed churches. This alone exemplifies the new emphasis on frequent Communion, praise and worship as the prime focus in Sunday services and the less central place given to preaching. All these are hallmarks of Anglican liturgical worship. This leads to a fine tribute from Bernard Reymond, a contemporary authority in practical theology. 17 All proportions kept, Bersier has exercised an influence on the architecture and liturgy of French-speaking Protestant Churches, comparable to that of the Cambridge Movement in the Anglo-Saxon world.25

The overall conception of the “Bersier Liturgy” owes much to the Book of Common Prayer.

18 The ethos of the “Bersier Liturgy” can be illustrated by this prayer (based on 57:15) which encourages a reverential attitude during Sunday services: Lord, you do not despise a broken and contrite heart. Even though you are the Most High and supremely the Holy One you deign to dwell with the humble ... Humble us then, O God, kindly draw near to bless us. May we sense your presence and hear your voice, so that in stillness and silence our souls may contemplate your worshipful face.26 This embodies the numinous in worship and the sense of a transcendent presence that exudes from Anglican worship, almost unconsciously. Thus, Bersier asserts the need for every worshipper to have his : What is called ‘Liturgy’ is a tome used only by ministers that hardly ever leaves the pulpit. […] Yet, we consider that a liturgy worthy of the name should be a truly congregational Book for the use of every churchgoer. It furnishes them with all the essential elements of worship when they are deprived of preaching. And it allows them to join more easily in public worship when it is regularly celebrated by the minister’.27

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19 Bersier thought that a single worship book reinforced unity amongst churchgoers. We might add that it also serves to limit the power of any minister by giving the congregation a greater role in worship.

20 The contents of the “Bersier Liturgy” echo those of the Prayer-Book. Both place at their head a calendar of Bible readings (). The opening services are those for Morning and Evening Prayer. The Te Deum is printed for congregational use. Provision is also made to recite in most services (even sing as in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer) the Apostles’ Creed. These are all features peculiar to the Prayer-Book. 21 There is also evidence of direct borrowing from the Book of Common Prayer. The Church of Scotland liturgist William D. Maxwell observes: It was compiled by Mr. Bersier for use in his own congregation in Paris, in it the influence of Morning Prayer in the Anglican Book of Common Prayer is marked, and the book itself has had a wide influence on the worship of the French Reformed Church.28 22 We can measure the extent and nature of this influence with the help of this Table:29

TABLE n°1

Morning Prayer, Prayer-Book (1662) Morning Service, Bersier (1874)

Invocation and response

Scripture Sentences Scripture Sentences

Exhortation before confession Summary of the Law with response

Promises of forgiveness

Confession of sin Confession of sin and

Absolution and Lord’s Prayer Absolution (wish) "Praise the LORD"

Reponses Responses

Gloria in excelsis Deo (incipit), Gloria Patri Psalm 95 followed by Gloria Patri (response)

Psalm of the day

OT reading. OT reading

Te Deum or of the Creatures taken from Psalm or hymn Daniel 3 (LXX)

NT reading Reading from the Gospels or the Epistles

Song of Zachariah or Psalm 100

Apostles Creed Apostles Creed

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Reponses and Kyrie simple and the Lord’s Prayer Intercessions (Litany) + Lord’s Prayer + Gloria Suffrages and Three collects and various prayers Patri

Sermon

Hymn, Collection and Notices Hymn, Collection and Notices

Blessing The Grace 2 Cor 13 Free Prayer, Hymn, Blessing 2 Cor 13

23 Yet, Bersier does not incorporate into his liturgy, either entire rites, or specific prayers. He discards the biblical , Venite (Ps 95), Benedictus (Song of Zachariah, Luke 1), and Jubilate Deo (Ps 100), as well as the Apocryphal Benedicite, omnia opera (Daniel 3 Septuagint). Even so, the order in the “Bersier Liturgy” follows closely that of Morning Prayer: the Apostles’ Creed and the intercessions come before the sermon in both cases. There exist numerous detailed similarities between the two liturgies, even more so in the 1876 edition of the “Bersier Liturgy”. Here then is a list of the main features that Bersier borrowed from the Anglican service: 1. The principle of reading several Bible verses as introductory sentences and the choice of Psalm 51:17 and Joel 2:13. 2. Among the Promises of forgiveness: Ezekiel 18:27; 33:2 and 1 John 1:8-9. 3. The suffrages (). 4. The use of responses (sung in the manner of English cathedrals). 5. The use of a litany (in the intercessory prayers) and some of its contents. 6. The “Lord’s Prayer” at the end of the litany. 7. The collects for festivals. 8. The prayer at the opening of the Parliamentary session. (The 1662 Book reads “during”) 9. 2 Corinthians 13:13; “the Grace", as a formula of blessing. 10. The Te Deum is printed out in full to be recited by the congregation on a regular basis. 11. The sermon occurs towards the close of the service. 24 Items 8 and 9 are peculiar to the 1662 Prayer-Book. We cannot exclude the possibility that the liturgy produced in 1866 by Charles Frossard30 might be a source for item 7, which along with item 8, appears later in Bersier’s Liturgical Project. Whatever his debt to earlier Reformed liturgies, or Lutheran “Agende”31 Bersier has borrowed considerably from Anglican Morning Prayer.

25 The Communion service also bears the mark of Anglican influences. Bersier introduces the title "Communion Liturgy", whereas his “Liturgical Project” has "Communion Service". These titles break with usual practise in most French Protestant Churches; the term "communion" is that of the Prayer-Book. 26 There appears to be no direct borrowing here from the Book of Common Prayer.32 For instance, he does not use “The ” which became known in France and has even been researched.33 Yet he does introduce Sursam Corda, and Gloria in excelsis, the latter albeit in a different position from that of the Book of Common Prayer. We also note the insertion of “Proper Prefaces” in the Communion thanksgiving prayer for use at festivals. Bersier has four “Propers,” Christmas, Good Friday, Easter and Whitsun,34 against five in the Prayer-Book. Furthermore, Bersier, breaking with Reformed usage on two counts, imitates two features introduced into the 1662 Prayer Book. Not only does he use the “” as a prayer, 35 but he

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also inserts three “manual acts” during the “Institution narrative” against five in the Prayer-Book, a reform jointly supported in 1661 by the Bishops and the Presbyterians. In the “Bersier Liturgy” we find: stretching hands over all the bread and cups; taking the bread; taking the cup; but no black crosses, inherited from Catholicism, that were excised in 1552 from the 1549 Prayer-Book. 27 Kenneth W. Stevenson has shown that we also find in Bersier excerpts from the Anglican “Prayer of ” commonly called “We thy unworthy servants”: And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice unto thee; … And although we be unworthy, through our manifold sins, to offer unto thee any sacrifice, yet we beseech thee to accept this our bounden duty and service; not weighing our merits, but pardoning our offences, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 28 This entered his liturgy via that of the Catholic Apostolic Church36 designed by John B. Cardale.37 A French edition appeared in 1873, the year prior to the “Bersier liturgy”. Acknowledging Thee to be our God, and ourselves Thy servants, as we are most bound, so we present to Thee ourselves, our souls and bodies, and dedicate ourselves unto Thy service, engaging henceforth to obey Thy holy will and commandments, and utterly to eschew all that Thou abhorrest. O God, Thou knowest our weakness, and our frailty is not hid from Thee; have mercy upon us, and fulfil our vows in us … that we may henceforth yield ourselves to Thee a living sacrifice, holy, and acceptable, which is our reasonable service.38 However, Bersier, whilst using Cardale and Romans 12:1-2 can improve the style and stress his own theology as the additions in bold type show: We are unworthy to offer anything in return for such a great sacrifice. Whilst acknowledging Thee to be our God, and ourselves Thy servants, we present to Thee, our souls and bodies that you have redeemed and dedicate ourselves unto Thy service. And we make the commitment to follow Thy holy will, to do what Thou commandest and to flee completely that which Thou abhorrest. O God, Thou knowest our weakness, and our faults are not hidden from Thee; have mercy upon us, and fulfil these vows in us, so that we may in future offer ourselves to Thee a living sacrifice, holy, and acceptable, which is our reasonable service. 39 29 Here then, borrowing by Bersier is proven, even if it is indirect via Cardale. The similarities with the Roman Mass show further usage of Cardale. Calvin is the source for the exhortation. These multiple sources should not however prevent us from acknowledging some influence from the Book of Common Prayer.

30 The burial service also testifies to the importance of the Book of Common Prayer in Bersier’s liturgical reforms. Bersier is a virtual pioneer in this area for French Reformed worship. In 1874, he even introduced an Order of Service for the Burial of a Child. 40 He incorporated psalms 39 Dixi, Custodiam and 90 Domine, refugium into his burial liturgy. Both these psalms were introduced into the burial service in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer. He uses excerpts from 1 Corinthians 15, the Prayer-Book epistle for a funeral communion, printed in full since 1549. These details take on greater significance when one recalls that funeral liturgies were absent from most Reformed service-books. 31 That the 1662 Book of Common Prayer provides a liturgical paradigm can also be seen in other occasional or pastoral services. The French title of Bersier’s “Special Service of Thanksgiving” suggests its translation from the English. The whole service reflects Anglican structure and style. It uses a single response, like a litany of thanksgiving.41

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32 Bersier is probably using the Book of Common Prayer as a source for the Communion of the Sick as few other Reformed liturgies existed at that time. This Prayer-Book Office includes a form of absolution that ends in a traditional formula using the first person: Our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left power to his Church to absolve all sinners, who truly repent, and believe in him, of his great mercy forgive thee thine offences; And by his Authority committed to me, I absolve thee from all thy sins, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. 33 In 1661, the Presbyterians had unsuccessfully requested a declarative form.42 Usually Bersier prefers to “announce forgiveness” following the example of Calvin at Strasbourg. So Bersier avoids the Prayer Book text: May Almighty God, who hath given His Son Jesus-Christ as the Sacrifice and Propitiation for the sins of the whole world; grant unto you, for His love’s sake, forgiveness, remission and absolution of all your sins !43 While finding inspiration in Cardale’s liturgy yet again: Almighty God who hath given His Son Jesus-Christ to be the Sacrifice and Propitiation for the sins of the whole world; Grant unto you for His sake full remission and forgiveness; Absolve you from all your sins.44 34 These are none other than the “comfortable words” of the Book of Common Prayer Communion service taken from 1 John 2:1-2. Nevertheless, Bersier modifies the ending to avoid the traditional terminology that harks back to the Book of Common Prayer and beyond that to the Roman Catholic absolution formula.

35 The 1662 Prayer-Book contains a service of Baptism initially intended for those not baptized into the Anglican fold during the Commonwealth period. The preface by Bishop Robert Sanderson (1661) justifies this: an office for the Baptism of such as are of Riper Years: which, although not so necessary when the former Book was compiled, yet by the growth of Anabaptism, through the licentiousness of the late times crept in amongst us, is now become necessary, and may be always useful for the baptizing of Natives in our Plantations, and others converted to the Faith. 36 Bersier created a service of Baptism for adults. One could claim that he was only copying the previously mentioned liturgy by Frossard since he is aware of his colleague’s work in this area.45 But Bersier realised that Frossard was using Anglican sources. Two items testify to Bersier’s borrowing from the Prayer-Book. Firstly, he follows the 1662 Preface on the need for such a service, referring to Baptists, converts and Christian mission:

37 This liturgy is to be used to introduce into the Christian Church Jews or converts brought to faith through mission to non-Christian peoples. But it will always be useful in families either won over to Baptist teaching where infant baptism has been suppressed, or where unbelief has led to the disappearance of any religious practise.46 38 He uses similar language when tracing the history of such liturgies in the Reformed tradition: “the Walloon Synod of 1667 added to the liturgy, a formulary for […] the Baptism of adults, Anabaptists, Jews, Mahometans, pagans and idol worshippers.”47 39 Secondly, he also uses the Gospel of John, chapter 3, printed in full in the Book of Common Prayer, an unlikely choice for adult baptism as it has been read traditionally as advocating “baptismal regeneration.”

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Conclusion

40 The Book of Common Prayer remains Bersier’s principal liturgical source as a “mother liturgy”. There are numerous cases of direct borrowing from the daily office. He indirectly uses the Prayer Book Communion Service when he quarries texts from Cardale. The 1662 Prayer Book provides liturgical models for several services. His knowledge of the Oxford Movement, the continental Lutheran liturgical revival and of eastern and patristic texts means that the “Bersier Liturgy” was part of a European move in the 19th century to rediscover and use the liturgical patrimony of the Christian Church. The influence of the “Bersier liturgy” and his “Liturgical Project” was more considerable than has been imagined,48 and remained significant for the French Reformed Church until the 1970’s. More broadly the “Bersier liturgy” signalled the start of a trend in French Protestantism at large in which Anglican liturgy has been used as an important liturgical resource.49

NOTES

1. This reproduces material from my doctoral thesis: La Liturgie de Bersier et le culte réformé en France : ritualisme et renouveau liturgique, (thesis 1999) (Lille: Septentrion, 2001). 2. Liturgie à l'usage des Églises Réformées (Paris: Fischbacher, 1874). The 2nd edition was published in 1876 and reprinted during the 1880s. The Liturgie de l’Étoile, 1892, contains alterations reflecting use in his parish. 3. Anglican worship had previously influenced French speaking Protestantism. John-Frederick Ostervald was the first Reformed pastor whom the 1662 Prayer Book inspired for his liturgy in 1713 at Neuchatel, Switzerland. His Order of Service held sway in the Neuchatel church until the 20th century. See the articles by Bruno Bürki, “La Sainte Cène dans la liturgie de Suisse Romande”, Coena Domini II: Die Abendmahlsliturgie der Reformationskirchen von 18. bis zum frühen 20. Jahrhundert (Fribourg: Academic Press Fribourg, 2005), 484-486; and “Jean-Frédéric Ostervald (1663-1747), le Pasteur neuchâtelois à l’origine des réformes liturgiques modernes au sein du protestantisme francophone”, Les Mouvements liturgiques: corrélation entre pratiques et recherches, Conférence St. Serge, Paris 2003 (Rome, Edizioni Liturgiche, 2004), 97-104. Since Bersier claims that, in 1874, he was unacquainted with this reform, we shall ignore Ostervald for this study. 4. “Jésus, Rédempteur de tous les hommes, toi que le Père a engendré avant le lever de la première aurore, brillante étoile du matin, Parole éternelle, lumière et splendeur du Père, image visible du Dieu invisible, soleil de justice, dont les rayons apportent à nos âmes la guérison et la vie, tu t'es levé sur le monde endormi dans l'ombre de la mort, et ta clarté n'aura point de fin.” “Bersier Liturgy”, 99. 5. “Ô Dieu qui as été notre Libérateur, nous célébrons en ce jour le souvenir de tes miséricordes. Indignes d'habiter avec toi, nous étions incapables par nous-mêmes de mériter ton pardon, mais tu nous as révélé ta grâce salutaire et tu nous y as fait avoir accès par la foi; tu nous as délivrés de toute crainte servile en mettant dans nos cœurs l'esprit d'adoption par lequel nous pouvons t'invoquer comme un Père.” “Bersier Liturgy”, 170-172. 6. Henriette Hollard (1840-1875), youngest daughter of the naturalist Henri Hollard.

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7. Henceforth “Liturgical Project” will refer to Projet de Révision de la Liturgie des Églises Réformées de France préparé sous invitation du Synode Général Officieux. Avec une introduction historique et un commentaire critique, Pour être soumis à l'examen des Synodes particuliers (Paris: Fischbacher & Grassart, 1888). 8. Robert Will, Le Culte, 3 vol., Étude d'Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuse, tome I., Le caractère religieux du culte (Strasbourg / Paris: Istra, 1925), 194, 264. Robert Will, (Asswiller 1869, Brumath 1959). See the notice in André Encrevé, ed., Les Protestants: Dictionnaire du monde religieux dans la France contemporaine (Paris: Beauchesne, 1993), 515-516. 9. André Encrevé and Daniel Robert, 227, note 101, “A l'occasion du centenaire de l'Église de l'Étoile Eugène Bersier (1831‑1889)”, Bulletin de la S.H.P.F. CXXV (1976): 211-228. 10. “Seigneur, nous te rendons grâce de ce que tu nous a appelés à la connaissance du salut par la foi en Jésus-Christ notre Rédempteur. Maintiens-nous dans la possession de la vérité, afin que, soumis aux enseignements des Saintes Écritures, chacun de nous puisse confesser librement sa foi et dire en communion avec l'Église universelle…”, Liturgical Project, op. cit., 32. 11. See Sermons, 7 vol., 1863-1884; Sermons, coll. Protestant Pulpit, 2 vol. (London, 1869); and Frederick Hastings, The Gospel in Paris: Sermons (London, 1884). 12. See Souviens-toi, Sermons de Bersier (Vevey: Groupes Missionnaires, 1965). 13. J-D. Benoît, Liturgical Renewal: Studies in Catholic and Protestant developments on the Continent, (Studies in Ministry and Worship) (London, SCM. Press, 1958), 31. 14. Marie Hollard-Bersier, Recueil de souvenirs de la vie d'Eugène Bersier (Paris, Fischbacher, 1911). All page numbers refer to the second edition of 1912. See esp. 340-343. 15. Ibid., 349: “La sympathie innée qu'il éprouvait pour la liturgie anglaise ne l'aveuglait pas cependant sur la mesure à garder pour une adaptation aux Églises de France”. 16. Ibid., 341. 17. Ibid., 326. 18. Ibid., 349. 19. Sermons, tome VI, 246, this is found in a sermon entitled “César et Dieu”, 229-258 and Souvenirs, op. cit., 337-338. 20. Souvenirs, op. cit., 412. See Liturgical Project, op. cit., XXXVII, note 2, (reproduced in our thesis Annexe II). 21. “Culte” tome III, (1878), 525-526, in Frédéric Lichtenberger, ed., L'Encyclopédie des sciences religieuses (Paris: Fischbacher, 1876-1882), 13 vols. 22. He refers to Hermann Adalbert Daniel, Codex Liturgicus (Leipzig, Weigel, 1847-1853), 4 vols. (reprint Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1966). The third volume (1851), given over to Anglican and Reformed liturgies, was in view. See also the information about publication of Anglican liturgies in “Calendrier chrétien”, in Lichtenberger, op. cit., tome II, (1878), 514‑519. 23. “Son assemblée était artiste et sentimentale ; il a cru faire de l'art en introduisant des chants savants et des chœurs payés, des vitraux peints et des prières cadencées. Ses fidèles étaient en grand nombre des Anglicans, il leur a servi un pastiche de leur liturgie” Théodore Maurel, La Renaissance, 22 June 1877, and his reply in the same publication, 6 July 1877. He had previously published: Le puseyisme en Angleterre, dissertation in theology (Montauban, 1860). 24. “La question liturgique: deux lettres de M. Bersier”, Le Christianisme au XIX e siècle (27 July 1877): 234-235. 25. We translate: “Toutes proportions gardées, Bersier a exercé sur l'architecture et la liturgie des Églises protestantes francophones une influence comparable à celle du mouvement de Cambridge dans le monde anglo-saxon.” Bernard Reymond, L'architecture religieuse des protestants : Histoire, caractéristiques et problèmes actuels, coll. Pratiques 14 (Genève: Labor & Fides, 1996), 122. 26. We translate this prayer: “Seigneur, tu ne méprises point les cœurs contrits et brisés, et, quoique tu sois le Très-Haut et le Saint des Saints, tu daignes habiter avec les humbles ... Humilie- nous donc, ô Dieu, et veuille t'approcher de nous pour nous bénir. Que nous puissions sentir ta

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présence et entendre ta voix, de telle sorte que, dans le recueillement et le silence, nos âmes contemplent ta face adorable ... » This introduces the prayer: « Dieu tout-puissant, notre Père céleste”, Prayer for the second Sunday of the month” (Morning), “Bersier Liturgy”, 75-76, see “Liturgical Project”, 49. 27. “ce qu'on appelle liturgie est un volume à l'usage des seuls pasteurs qui ne sort guère des chaires […] Or, nous estimons qu'une liturgie digne de ce nom devrait être un véritable livre d'église à l'usage de tous les fidèles, pouvant leur fournir les éléments essentiels du culte là où ils sont privés de toute prédication et leur permettre de s'associer plus directement au culte public lorsqu'il est régulièrement célébré par le pasteur.” Liturgical Project, op. cit., XLIII-XLIV; reproduced in our thesis Annexe II, 556. 28. William Delbert Maxwell, An Outline of Christian Worship, 5th edition (Oxford: O.U.P., 1963), 190, n. 41; reprinted with the title History of Christian Worship (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1982). See also his study The Book of Common Prayer and the Worship of non-Anglican Churches, Dr. Williams' Lecture 1949 (Oxford: O.U.P., 1950). 29. Alexander Elliott Peaston, The Prayer Book tradition in the Free Churches (London: James Clarke, 1964), supplies the order for Morning Prayer p. 168. 30. La Liturgie ou ordre du service divin à l'usage des Églises réformées de France, ed. Charles Louis Frossard (Lille, 1866). 31. Bersier may have taken his opening invocation and responses, as well as his order of service, from the United Prussian “Agende” (1822) of Frederick William III. He shows his appreciation for this service in his article in the Lichtenberger Encyclopaedia, op. cit., “Agende”, vol. I. (1877), 115. 32. Bruno Bürki, Cène du Seigneur, Eucharistie de l'Église, Cahiers Œcuméniques 17B (Fribourg: Éd. Universitaires, 1985), 43. 33. See Katie Badie, La Prière de 'l‘Humble accès’, mémoire de maîtrise (Vaux-sur-Seine, 2005) ; and her article “The Prayer of Humble Access”, Churchman vol. 120, n°2 (Summer 2006): 103-117. http://www.churchsociety.org/churchman/documents/Cman_120_2_Badie.pdf 34. “Bersier Liturgy”, 227; Liturgical Project, 158. 35. The 1662 Book of Common Prayer made them part of the newly titled “Prayer of Consecration”. 36. See Kenneth W. Stevenson, The Catholic Apostolic Eucharist, thesis (Southampton University, 1975), 374‑377. See also his, Eucharist and Offering (New York: Pueblo, 1986), 263, n. 26, where he recalls Bersier’s debt to the Catholic Apostolic Eucharist. He gives several extracts from Cardale’s Communion liturgy p. 184‑185. 37. Consult John Bate Cardale, The Liturgy and other Divine Offices, 1838, 1842 (London: George J. W. Pitman / Chiswick Press, 1880, 1892); and Liturgies et autres divins offices de l'Église (Paris, 1873 / Lausanne, 1901). See also John B. Cardale, Readings in the Liturgy and the Divine Offices of the Church, 2 vol. (London: Thomas Bosworth, 1874-1875). 38. The Liturgy and other Divine Offices, (1838), 1880 edition, op. cit., 7-8; see Liturgies et autres divins offices de l'Église, op. cit., 22. 39. “Nous sommes indignes de rien t’offrir en retour d’un si grand sacrifice. Toutefois, confessant que Tu es notre Dieu et que nous sommes tes serviteurs, nous te présentons nos âmes et nos corps que tu as rachetés, nous nous consacrons à ton service et nous prenons l'engagement de suivre ta sainte volonté, de faire ce que tu commandes et de fuir entièrement ce que tu as en horreur. O Dieu, tu connais notre faiblesse et nos fautes ne te sont point cachées; aie pitié de nous et accomplis en nous ces vœux, afin qu’à l’avenir nous puissions nous offrir à toi en sacrifice vivant, saint et agréable, ce qui est notre raisonnable service.” “Bersier Liturgy”, 225-226. 40. “Liturgie pour l'enterrement d'un enfant” (au temple), “Bersier Liturgy”, 341-349; see Liturgical Project, 241-246. 41. “Un service spécial d'actions de grâces”, “Bersier Liturgy”, 291-295. 42. Colin O. Buchanan, The Savoy Conference revisited, op. cit., 12.

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43. “Que le Dieu tout-puissant, qui a donné son Fils Jésus-Christ en sacrifice et en propitiation pour les péchés de tout le monde, vous accorde pour l'amour de lui [sic Christ] le pardon, la rémission et l'absolution de tous vos péchés.” In “Administration de la Communion aux malades”, “Bersier Liturgy”, 242-243. 44. The Liturgy and other Divine Offices (1838), 1880 edition, op. cit., 2. 45. Liturgical Project, XXX, n. 1, reproduced in our thesis Annexe II, 548. 46. “Cette liturgie est applicable à l'introduction dans l'Église chrétienne des israélites ou des prosélytes amenés à la foi par la mission chez les peuples non-chrétiens. Mais elle aura toujours plus son emploi par le fait de la suppression du baptême des enfants soit dans les familles gagnées aux doctrines des baptistes, soit dans les milieux où l'incrédulité fait disparaître toute pratique religieuse.” Liturgical Project, 139. 47. Le Synode wallon de 1667 ajouta à la liturgie, des formulaires pour ... le baptême des adultes, des anabaptistes, des juifs, des mahométans, des païens et des idolâtres. Liturgical Project, XLI, n. 1, reproduced in our thesis Annexe II, p. 554, n. 34. 48. See my liturgical study: “La fréquence de la Sainte-Cène dans le protestantisme de langue française : en quoi la liturgie d'Eugène Bersier (1831-1889), a-t-elle modifié les pratiques ?”, Les Mouvements liturgiques : corrélation entre pratiques et recherches, Conférence St. Serge, Paris, 2003 (Rome, Edizioni Liturgiche, 2004), 105-125. 49. This is the case of the French Methodist Liturgy of 1983. The use of the Prayer Book by Methodists is hardly surprising, however. More surprisingly, the value of Anglican liturgy is accepted by many French Baptists as can be seen in the French Baptist Federation manuals (1994 ff.) even though Baptists are not used to praying from set liturgical texts. In a recent liturgical resource for the Communion service, the following were included: Collect for Purity, Ten Commandments with Kyrie, Sentences, Comfortable Words and Humble Access. For marriage, the 1549 collect was borrowed, for funerals the opening funeral sentences, the use of extracts from Psalms 39 and 90 (the 1662 Book of Common Prayer Psalms used by Bersier). And the “Prayer of Committal” occurs before burial in its 1662 form. Finally various books of prayers and hymnbooks also bear witness to French Protestant interest in Anglican worship. A book of Anglican Prayers (La tradition anglicane [Chambray: Ed. C.L.D., 1982]) includes numerous collects from the Book of Common Prayer (for purity, Ember Collect by , “A General Thanksgiving” attributed to Edward Reynolds, and the prayer of humble access). The ccumenical prayer and hymn book, Ensemble (Paris / Lyon: Bayard / Réveil Publications, 2002). reproduces in French several collects (for purity, ; Bible Sunday, Ash Wednesday and “A General Thanksgiving” previously mentioned).

ABSTRACTS

French Reformed minister Eugène Bersier’s liturgy, which he composed for his congregation at the Temple de l’Etoile in Paris in 1874-76, is an example of extensive borrowing from Anglican liturgical tradition. Although this liturgy was only ever used by Bersier’s congregation, its influence on the French Reformed Church was far-ranging because it constituted the basis of a proposal for liturgical reform that Bersier drafted at the request of the French Reformed synod in 1888 and which led to considerable change in French Reformed worship. The Bersier liturgy is not a case of merely adopting the Anglican liturgy as it was. The liturgical text of the Bersier liturgy owes much to the Book of Common Prayer, and the architecture, decoration and music of

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his Paris church were influenced by Anglican cathedral worship. But Bersier adapted the Book of Common Prayer to French Reformed sensibilities and even downplayed Anglican influence as he responded to criticisms of ritualism and servile imitation of the Anglican high church party.

La liturgie du pasteur réformé français Eugène Bersier, composée pour sa paroisse du Temple de l’Etoile à Paris en 1874-76, fait de nombreux emprunts à la tradition liturgique anglicane. Bien que cette liturgie n’ait été utilisée que par la paroisse de Bersier, son influence sur l’Eglise réformée de France fut importante car elle a constitué le fondement d’une proposition de réforme liturgique que Bersier a élaborée à la demande du synode de l’Eglise réformée de France en 1888 et qui a ensuite conduit à d’importantes évolutions dans le culte réformé. Bersier, dans sa liturgie, n’a pas simplement fait sienne la liturgie anglicane. En effet, si le texte liturgique de Bersier doit beaucoup au Book of Common Prayer et si l’architecture, la décoration et la musique dans son temple parisien reprenaient de nombreux éléments du culte anglican tel qu’on pouvait le voir dans les cathédrales anglaises, Bersier a aussi adapté le Book of Common Prayer à la sensibilité des réformés français et a même minimisé les influences anglicanes pour répondre à ceux qui l’accusaient d’être un ritualiste et d’imiter de façon servile la haute église anglicane.

INDEX

Mots-clés: liturgie, Eglise Réformée de France, anglicanisme, Book of Common Prayer Keywords: liturgy, French Reformed Church, Anglicanism, Book of Common Prayer

AUTHOR

STUART LUDBROOK

Fédération Baptiste de France

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Anglican Influence on Old Catholic Liturgy Les Influences anglicanes sur la liturgie vieille-catholique

David R. Holeton and Petr Jan Vinš

1 Whereas borrowing from the Anglican liturgy in the French Reformed Church was an undertaking that had to be very cautiously engaged into not to upset denominational sensibilities, the Old Catholic Churches provide an example of liturgical transfer in which turning to Anglican liturgical resources has been experienced as a way of strengthening Old Catholic identity and the communion between the two churches.

2 Anglican influence on Old Catholic liturgy is relatively recent and is the fruit of growing cooperation between the two communions. Mutual relations between the Anglican and Old Catholic churches from the 1870s have been of varying intensity and can be divided into several periods. Even before the First Vatican Council a book by J. M. Neale on the history of the Church of Utrecht1 brought to the attention of the Anglican public the existence of an independent Catholic church on the European continent. After 1870 and the emergence of the German-speaking Old Catholic churches in reaction to Vatican I, relations with Anglicans went from an optimistic beginning between 1878-1900, through a period of crisis between 1900-1918, of which the most notable incident was the so-called Mathew Affair,2 then a period of renewed dialogue, which culminated in the Bonn Agreement of 1931. This important document started a new period of structural cooperation, but its reception by both Old Catholics and Anglicans was relatively slow in coming. After the Second World War, liturgical cooperation became visible in mutual participation in episcopal ordinations, but initially there was little sharing in each other’s liturgical life. It was thanks to a series of Old Catholic-Anglican theological conferences, starting in 1957, that the two communions created the conditions for sharing their liturgical resources. From the 1980s, as several Old Catholic churches started to revise their liturgies, they made extensive use of contemporary Anglican prayer books, especially from North America. The appeal of these modern Anglican liturgies (compared to the revised liturgies of other Western Churches, which are equally the fruit of the Liturgical Movement) lies in

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the fact that their rootedness in a type of catholicity that is free of Roman theological idiosyncrasies resonates with Old Catholic sensibilities.

Bonn union conferences

3 The critical Catholic reaction to the First Vatican Council was observed with great interest from the Anglican side; both the Evangelical and the Anglo-Catholic wings saw in the emerging Old Catholic movement a possible ally for their cause. The Evangelicals appreciated the resistance to Rome, the Anglo-Catholic wing on the other hand was interested in a church body living within the Catholic liturgical tradition and promoting an ecclesiastical understanding based on the tradition of the undivided church of the first millennium. In time the Anglo-Catholic connection proved to be stronger and a more viable route down which to pursue liturgical cooperation.3 One of the channels of contact between the emerging Old Catholic movement and the Anglican Church became the Anglo-Continental Society, founded in 1853 for the promotion of the principles of the Church of England on the European continent, which in 1873 set up its own committee for correspondence with the Old Catholics and arranged for the dissemination of Old Catholic literature in England.4

4 In 1873 two Old Catholic Commissions had been established for dialogue with the Anglican and Orthodox churches respectively. The Anglican-Old Catholic commission was headed by Professor Ignaz von Döllinger who in the next two years went even further and organised the so-called Bonn Union Conferences which aimed at a doctrinal-ecclesiastical understanding between Anglican, Old Catholic and Orthodox churches. Those proto-ecumenical dialogues might be considered the most important inter-confessional meetings of the nineteenth century.5 5 The first Bonn Union Conference (1874) accepted fourteen theses, formulated primarily by Döllinger.6 One of the questions that remained unsolved – partly because of the opposition of the Orthodox participants and the Church of Utrecht – was the question of the validity of Anglican orders. This proved to be the main obstacle to future Anglican-Old Catholic cooperation. Although the German Old Catholic church with its newly elected Bishop Joseph Hubert Reinkens was prepared to accept the validity of Anglican Orders, the position of the Church of Utrecht changed only in 1925. The Second Bonn Union Conference was attended by various Anglican Bishops and other delegates from England and the United States.7 The topic of the conference was a doctrinal dialogue on the Creed (mainly with the Orthodox), but an important place was also given to the question of the validity of Anglican orders. Döllinger himself vigorously defended the validity of those orders.8 6 The Bonn Union Conferences received a mixed reaction in the Church of England.9 It was partly this mixed reaction on the Anglican side — the Evangelicals regarded Old Catholics as being too “catholic” and on the other hand the High Church movement feared that further dialogue with the Old Catholics could negatively influence their attempts to lead a discussion with Rome, a position taken, for example, by Edward Bouverie Pusey — that led to Döllinger’s decision not to call a third Union Conference.10

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On the way to the Bonn Agreement

7 Nevertheless, in 1878 the Second Lambeth Conference expressed its support for the Old Catholic movement on the Continent. Two Old Catholic Bishops, and Adolf Küry were present at the Lambeth Conference and reported extensively on it in the Old Catholic press. The Swiss national Old Catholic Synod meeting in 1879 answered the Lambeth declaration with its own affirmation that the Old Catholic and Anglican Churches rest on the same foundations.11

8 A very interesting liturgical event occurred in 1879, when two Old Catholic Bishops – Reinkens and Herzog – celebrated the eucharist together along with the Scottish Bishop Cotterill.12 9 The Swiss Old Catholic Bishop Eduard Herzog was invited in 1880 to the United States and on several occasions celebrated the eucharist and even confirmed the faithful of the Episcopal Church. This was very warmly received in the Episcopal Church and Bishop Herzog donated a Swiss Old Catholic Altar Book to the of the Episcopal Church.13 It seems that at least on one occasion he even ordained a priest for the Episcopal Church who subsequently received permission from his Bishop to use the Old Catholic rite.14 Bishop Herzog appears to have had a positive disposition towards the American Book of Common Prayer, for it is said that, while preparing the first Swiss Old Catholic liturgical texts (in German), he always had a copy of the American book on his desk.15 The fact that, at the time of its creation, the American book had drawn on the liturgy of the Scottish Episcopal Church – with its inclusion of an in the eucharistic prayer in particular – gave that book a “catholic/orthodox” character which was missing from the English versions of the Book of Common Prayer.

Formal agreement and living communion

10 While between 1870 and 1885 there were many publications concerning Old Catholics on the Anglican side, it seems that the end of the nineteenth century brought a cooling down of relations. The Utrecht Union of the Old Catholic churches was established in 1889 and the position of the Church of Utrecht on the validity of Anglican orders created an on-going difficulty in the relationship. The consecration of Bishop Kozlowski for the Polish Catholic Church of Chicago in 1897 and the consecration of Arnold Harris Mathew for the non-existent “Old Catholic Church of Great Britain” in 1908 brought mutual relations to an all-time low. Only in 1925 did the situation change when, as a part of the inner renewal of the Dutch Old Catholic Church, they declared “without any reservations that Apostolic Succession was not interrupted in the Church of England.”16 This declaration eliminated the last barrier and the International Old Catholic Bishops’ Conference expressed its “hope for a future closer fellowship with the Church of England and its affiliated Churches on a truly Catholic foundation.17” Five years later the Lambeth Conference also affirmed its desire for “a reunification with Old Catholics.”18

11 In July 1931 eight members appointed by the Lambeth conference and four representatives of the Union of Utrecht prepared the text of the Bonn Agreement, which was deemed the basis of fellowship at the church level.19 The Agreement was ratified by the Old Catholic International Bishops' Conference on September 7, 1931 and

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by the Convocations of Canterbury and York on January 20-21, 1932. This Agreement nevertheless did not include any “instruments of unity” and thus its practical reception was relatively slow on both the Anglican and the Old Catholic sides. Importantly, from the liturgical point of view, the Bonn Agreement explicitly states that it “does not require from either Communion the acceptance of all ... liturgical practice characteristic of the other, but implies that each believes the other to hold all essentials of the Christian Faith.” This opened the possibility for mutual critical reception of liturgical texts and practices.

Episcopal contact and theological conferences

12 Contacts between German-speaking Old Catholic churches and the Anglican Communion were completely interrupted during the Second World War, but were reinstituted after 1945 and the Bonn Agreement started to be enacted. The most visible form of this enactment was and still is a mutual participation in episcopal ordinations.

13 This participation in episcopal constitutes a practical liturgical cooperation between Old Catholic and Anglican churches. Since the 1950s both churches have felt a need not only for practical but also for theoretical and theological consultation. Thus, in 1957 the first Anglican-Old Catholic Theological Conference met as an unofficial body without a formal status, but with a great impact on the practical collaboration of both churches. Subsequent theological conferences dealt mainly with the ecumenical relations of both churches (with the Orthodox, Methodists and Roman Catholics), but some liturgical questions were also raised during these conferences. The seventh theological conference (September 15-18, 1974 in Lucerne) opened the topic of ministry, ordination and the eucharist as well as eucharistic hospitality. The eighth theological conference (April 18-21, 1977 in Chichester) was entirely dedicated to the topic of the theology of ordination. This was the case mainly because the question of the ordination of women had emerged. Through the theological conference individual participants also exchanged their expertise on liturgy and liturgical texts – thus the Old Catholic libraries in Bonn, Bern and Utrecht received new copies of Anglican liturgical books from various parts of the Anglican Communion. The exchange in the other direction was more limited, mainly because Old Catholic liturgical languages (mainly German and Dutch) were inaccessible to most of the Anglican participants. (The Iron Curtain restricted attendance by delegates from Central Europe and rendered Polish and Czech texts unavailable.)

Ongoing reform

14 The renewal of the liturgy is an ongoing process. Regular pastoral use of the rites prepared by the various Old Catholic and Anglican churches in the 1970s brought an increasing awareness both of the benefits brought to the churches by the reform of the rites as well as an awareness that the work of liturgical reform was far from complete.

15 Usually there is a lapse of at least a generation between the publication of a Church’s new liturgical texts, the reception of those texts and the revision process that follows when work begins on their successors, with the publication of a new prayer book coming, perhaps, half a century later. That was not to be the case with the new

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generation of liturgical texts in the Old Catholic and Anglican traditions and the pace of revisions took on an unprecedented speed. 16 The momentum begun with the Liturgical Movement and the ensuing, revised liturgical texts emerging from many Churches (most publicly and visibly the Roman Catholic Church) had a profound effect on the life of the western liturgical Churches including both Old Catholics and Anglicans.

Common translations

17 Many churches began to work together ecumenically. For English speaking churches this began with the work on common translations of liturgical texts shared by many churches. Organizations like the Consultation on Common Texts (CCT) in North America and the Joint Liturgical Group of Great Britain (JLG) first undertook this work and the two groups soon began to work together as ICET (the International Consultation of Liturgical Texts). Eventually ICET came to include equivalent ecumenical groups from Australia (ACOL), New Zealand (JLG-NZ) and South Africa. The Roman Catholic Church was fully included in this work through the participation of ICEL (International Commission on English in the Liturgy). Together they produced translations of a number of standard liturgical texts (including Gloria in Excelsis, the Nicene and Apostles’ Creeds, the Lord’s Prayer, Sanctus/Benedictus, Te Deum, , &c.). For English-speaking Christians, this was the first time they had ever shared common vernacular translations of these fundamental texts.20

18 The process of co-operation on common translations also provided an occasion for sharing liturgical books being prepared by the member churches at this time. Out of this emerged what has come to be known as a modern ecumenical liturgical consensus on the shape of the liturgy (particularly the Eucharist).

Sharing new texts

19 Given that Old Catholics and Anglicans do not have a common liturgical language, this spirit of practical liturgical cooperation began in a different way – by the mutual exchange of texts. For example, at the beginning of the 1980s, the liturgical commission of the German Old Catholic Church, started a new round of revision. The 1995 altar book of that diocese is the third official book for the celebration of Holy Eucharist, succeeding the rites of 1888 and 1959.21

20 The rite of 1959 was deemed to be rather ‘Romanising’ as it had reintroduced features of the Roman Mass which had been abandoned in the first altar book in 1888. It became clear to the members of the commission that, if the diocese were to be true to its desire to be as close to the undivided Church as possible, the new German liturgical books of the Roman Catholic Church could not be adopted, even with alterations. The theology of the Eucharist and of the ministry, as well as the pastoral situation of the parishes of the German Old Catholic Church were too different from those of the “other” Catholic Church to be suitable for use in the Old Catholic diocese. 21 Furthermore, the advances in liturgical scholarship since the mid-1960s, when the Roman Catholic books had been drafted in Rome, were too significant to be ignored. As

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the revision got under way it was notable that Anglican rites for the celebration of the eucharist were consulted before any other. 22 This was, in part, due to the fact that Sigisbert Kraft and Joachim Vobbe, the Bishops of the Old Catholics in Germany and themselves liturgists were deeply committed to living out the precepts of the Bonn Agreement.22 In the end, it turned out that the single most influential book in this round of revisions was The Book of Alternative Services of the Anglican Church in Canada (BAS).23 23 The BAS proved to be an instant success with the members of the German liturgical commission. The book’s catholicity (which did not bow to strictly Roman doctrine or practice), its sensitivity to the extant vernacular balanced by a reverence for the style and rhythm of traditional English liturgical language, and its clarity of structure provided a perfect counter-balance to the Alternative Service Book 1980 of the Church of England which was thought by the commission to be quite inadequate in these areas. 24 The commission thought that the tradition of liturgical renewal begun by the 1979 Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal Church (formerly ECUSA) had some mileage and so a number of texts that first appeared in the American 1979 Book of Common Prayer found their way into the German book by way of their inclusion in the BAS. 25 In working towards new German liturgical texts, Old Catholics also made direct borrowings from the BAS: the first Thanksgiving over the Water (from Holy Baptism, pp. 156-7) and the Litany of Penitence (from Ash Wednesday, pp. 283- 5). The collects used in the BAS proved to be a particularly fruitful source for the creation of the new German texts. Eight Sunday collects were translated and the Canadian texts were always consulted for the other feasts and often served as a basis for their German equivalents. 26 Additionally, the middle section of the Prefaces (the concrete reason for giving thanks on a particular day) [BAS pp. 218-26] also inspire the German texts. While the prefaces, retain the traditional doxological style at their beginning and end (as opposed to the berakah style used in the BAS), the majority of the twenty-three eucharistic prayers have much in common with the strictly Trinitarian structure as maintained in the BAS: praise of the Father, of the mighty acts of God through Christ, including the words of institution (which retain their proper prayer form by saying that Christ “praised your compassion”, “gave you thanks and praise”, etc.), and an epiclesis of the Holy Spirit over bread and wine and those who eat and drink from the Holy Gifts. 27 It was not the German Old Catholic Church alone that drew on the liturgical work of the Anglican Communion. Anglican liturgical texts were used as resources when new Old Catholic texts were drafted by other Old Catholic churches and by the IALK. The Dutch Old Catholic Church, for example, drew on Canadian and English resources when drafting their new eucharistic prayers. 28 Regular communication between the two communions was significantly improved and formalised when, in 1993, Dr. Thaddeus Schnitker, Secretary of the Old Catholic International Liturgical Commission (IALK), was invited to be an ecumenical member of the International Anglican Liturgical Consultation (IALC). In 1994, Professor David Holeton, then Chair of the IALC was appointed to be the Anglican member of the IALK with the approval of the Anglican Consultative Council. This assured active participation by each communion in the liturgical discussions of the other Church and that each Church would be kept informed of the liturgical activities of the other –

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particularly work on new liturgical texts. Over time, this has proved to be of considerable importance. 29 Much time in the later years of the IALK was spent on rites for a proposed new pontifical to be used as a common text in the Union of Utrecht. While the new project is still under way, some Anglican texts have been adapted for rites now in use by particular Old Catholic Churches. For example, the rite for the blessing of oils of the Czech Church draws heavily on the BAS. Most notably in both books, the blessing of the oils is incorporated into the Eucharistic prayer itself following early Christian practice in which gifts other than bread and wine were also blessed in the context of the Eucharistic prayer. 30 As the newest complete sacramentary in the Union of Utrecht, the Czech Missal24 contains some important Anglican influences. In part, these are indirect as a number of Eucharistic prayers in the Czech Missal’s Rite A are drawn from the new German Altar Book and, thus, incorporate material from the BAS. More directly, the work of the Fifth International Anglican Liturgical Consultation (Dublin, 1995) which was largely devoted to the Eucharist25 had a major influence on the new Czech Missal. 31 The Dublin Documents”,26 produced by the Consultation, contain the reports and recommendations of its five working groups. Those of Group III concern the structure of the Eucharist. Reflecting on the experience of these rites in various Anglican provinces over the previous decades, it was clear that various changes were needed to the basic structure of the rite. These included a simplification and reordering of the rite – particularly the gathering (or entrance) rite, the treatment of penance within the rite, the placement of the Lord’s Prayer and the sign of peace, and the conclusion (dismissal). 32 In outline, the shape recommended by the Consultation for the Sunday eucharist is as follows: The Gathering of God’s People Greeting [Penitential rite] Song or Act of Praise Opening Prayer preceded by silence Proclaiming and Receiving the Word of God First Reading Psalm Second Reading Gospel Sermon [Creed] Prayers of the People Prayers Lord’s Prayer [Penitential rite] Peace Celebrating at the Lord’s Table Preparing the Table Prayer over the gifts Eucharistic Prayer Silence Breaking the Bread Invitation Communion

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Going out as God’s People Silence [Hymn] Prayer after Communion [Blessing] Dismissal 33 Parts included within square brackets are judged not to be necessary components of the rite but useful on occasion or during particular seasons of the .

34 This shape27 was followed by the committee which prepared the second Eucharistic rite (Rite B) and included in the new Czech Sacramentary.28

Future cooperation

35 An unexpected motion at the Old Catholic Bishops’ Meeting held at Amersfoort in May 2011 (temporarily) suspended the work of the IALK, thus eliminating an important instrument for Anglican-Old Catholic liturgical cooperation. Until the commission resumes its meetings, common liturgical conversations will rely on less formal contacts between Old Catholic and Anglican members who happen to meet at the biennial congresses of Societas Liturgica or the possible attendance of Old Catholics at meetings of the IALC. Given the important influence of new Anglican Liturgical texts on Old Catholic liturgical renewal in recent years, the importance of these contacts should not be underestimated as various Anglican provinces set about work on a new generation of liturgical texts.

NOTES

1. , A History of the So-Called Jansenist Church of Holland (Oxford: John Henry and James Parker, 1858). Old Catholic liturgical texts had been available in English since 1876 with the publication of Frederick Edward Warren’s translations in The Offices of the Old Catholic Prayer-Book (Oxford and London: James Parker, 1876). 2. See Christopher Schuler, The Mathew Affair: the Failure to Establish an Old Catholic Church in England in the Context of Anglican Old Catholic Relations Between 1902 and 1925 (Amersfoort: Stichting Oud-Katholiek Seminarie, 1997) for further reference to the Matthew affair and Anglican-Old Catholic relations in the first two decades of the 20th century. 3. Some of the known examples of early Anglican-Old Catholic contact include Bishops E. H. Browne and Christopher Wordsworth's calls for support of the Old Catholic movement. The ritualist vicar of St Peter, London Docks, Charles Lowder even attended the Old Catholics' Congress at Constance in 1873; Stewart J. Brown, and Peter B. Nockles, The Oxford Movement: Europe and the Wider World 1830-1930 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 263. 4. Brown and Nockles, op. cit., 246. 5. Peter Neuner, Döllinger als Theologe der Ökumene (Paderborn: Schöningh, 1979), 178.

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6. Heinrich Reusch, ed., Bericht über die 1874 und 1875 zu Bonn gehaltenen Unions-Conferenzen. Neudruckder Ausgabe in zwei Bänden von 1874 und 1875, Schriftenreihe des Altkatholischen Seminars der Universität Bonn, Reihe A,2. 7. The most significant Anglican participants were: Standfort, Bishop of Gibraltar, Dean Howson, Liddon, Plummer, Meyrick (secretary of the Anglo-Continental Society), Malcolm MacColl, Plunket (later Archbishop of Dublin), Henry Potter (secretary to the House of Bishops in the USA, later Bishop of New York), Nevin (anglican chaplain in Rome). 8. His speech was recorded by W. S. Perry as such: “I desire, according to an understanding with the gentlemen from the East, to say some words on the question of the validity of the Anglican Orders which has been already spoken of in the former year. The English Church, in the sixteenth century, completed its Reformation without renouncing the Ancient Episcopal Constitution. Under Queen Elizabeth, Parker was consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury, and the historical controversy turns upon the question whether his consecration was valid. Into this controversy, all manner of trifling things have been drawn, and it has, from strange motives, been thrown into confusion. The fact that Parker was consecrated by four validly consecrated Bishops, ritè et legitimè, by laying on of hands and the words which are to be regarded as essential, is confirmed by such ample testimony, that one, if he should doubt these facts, could with the same right doubt one hundred thousand facts; or, as some one, after the appearance of the Life of Jesus by Strauss, has done in derision, could represent the history of the first Napoleon as a myth. The fact is as well attested as can be desired for any fact. Bossuet has acknowledged the validity of Parker's consecration, and no critical historian can dispute it. Ordinations of the Romish Church could be impugned with more show of justice. Besides the re-ordinations of the Tenth Century, the following may, in this view, be recollected. At Florence, a peculiar formula of belief was drawn up in the first instance for the Armenians, with the pretended assent of the Council, which was nevertheless properly at an end. In this so-named Decretum pro Armeniis, the doctrine of the Seven Sacraments is especially developed for the instruction of the Orientals; it is the only detailed statement of the kind before the time of the Trent Council. There is found there in regard to ordination the perfectly astonishing declaration that, the matter of this Sacrament is not the laying on of hands, which is not even mentioned, but the porrectio instrumentorum, the delivery of the and the . The form also is inexact, drawn out at great length. The decree was to be forced upon the Orientals. Clement VIII even ordered the Orientals to observe this decree in regard to the Sacraments. And yet the porrectio instrumentorum is purely a ceremony, and, in truth, such a one as first arose after the year 1000, and only in the West. How would it be now if bishops, on the ground of this decree, should have viewed the laying on of hands, which is essential to the validity of ordination, as a mere ceremony, and should have discontinued it. The English theologians {are} only right energetically to hold this Decretum pro Armeniis before the Romish theologians in England, who attack the validity of the Anglican ordinations, and remind them that those who live in glass houses should not throw stones.”; William Stevens Perry, The Reunion Conference at Bonn 1875, printed privately, 1876. 9. Mark D. Chapman, 'Liddon, Döllinger and the Bonn conferences of 1874 and 1875; A Case Study in Nationalism and Ecumenism', IKZ 92 (2002): 21-59. 10. Angela Berlis, “Relations with the Anglican Church” [online article], retrieved from: http:// www.utrechter-union.org/page/294/relations_with_the_anglican_chur 11. Urs Küry, Die altkatholische Kirche: Ihre Geschichte, ihre Lehre, ihr Anliegen (Stuttgart: Evangelisches Verlagswerk, 1978), 107. 12. Harald Rein, Kirchengemeinschaft: Die anglikanisch-altkatholisch-orthodoxen Beziehungen von 1870 bis 1990 und ihre ökumenische Relevanz (Bern: Peter Lang 1993), 126; in the Old Catholic press the event was reported by Jean-Francois Mayer in Der Katholik 33/1879 (Bern, 1879): 260-262. 13. Harald Rein, op.cit., 129.

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14. “Bericht des Bischofs über die Geistlichkeit”, Der Katholik 25/1887 (Bern 1887): 197; Harald Rein, Kirchengemeinschaft, 129. 15. The extent of this influence has never been researched. I am grateful for this information to Emeritus Professor Urs von Arx of the Old Catholic Theological Faculty in Bern. 16. Urs Küry, op. cit., 468. 17. Loc. Cit. 18. Angela Berlis, op. cit. 19. The text of the agreement reads: 1) Each Communion recognizes the catholicity and independence of the other and maintains its own. 2) Each Communion agrees to admit members of the other Communion to participate in the Sacraments. 3) Intercommunion does not require from either Communion the acceptance of all doctrinal opinion, sacramental devotion or liturgical practice characteristic of the other, but implies that each believes the other to hold all essentials of the Christian Faith. 20. David R. Holeton, “Des traductions communes en anglais: un itinéraire anglican et œcuménique”, La Maison-Dieu 272 (Juin, 2013): 153-178. 21. Die Feier der Eucharistie (Altarbuch für die Feier der Liturgie) (Bonn, 1995). An English translation of the book was published in electronic form as The Celebration of the Eucharist in the Catholic Diocese of the Old Catholics in Germany: http://www.alt-katholisch.de/information/liturgie/altar- book. The book has enjoyed widespread influence well beyond its pastoral use within Anglicanism. 22. The episcopates of the two bishops spanned the time from the inception of the project until its completion. Both were enthusiastic supporters of drawing inspiration from the BAS for their own creative work. 23. Thaddeus A. Schnitker, “Eucharist and Catholicity. The influence of The Book of Alternative Services on the New Altar Book of the Old Catholic Church in Germany”, Liturgy Canada V.3 (Michaelmas, 1996): 4-6. 24. Eucharistická slavnost starokatolické církve. Český Misál. [The Eucharistic celebration of the Old Catholic Church. The Czech Missal.] (Prague, 2011). 25. David R. Holeton, ed., Our Thanks and Praise. The Eucharist in Anglicanism Today: Papers from the Fifth International Anglican Liturgical Consultation (Toronto: Anglican Book Centre, 1998). 26. Ibid., 259-309. 27. The shape has much in common with the proposed revisions of both the English- and German-language Roman Catholic Sacramentaries – projects which were abandoned after the 2001 publication of the Instruction Liturgiam Authenticam. 28. Český Misál, 36-56.

ABSTRACTS

Old Catholics have leaned on full communion ties with Anglican churches to create forms of worship which, although decidedly Catholic, are just as decidedly non-Roman, thus strengthening the sense of Old Catholic identity. Full communion, established by the Bonn Agreement of 1931, although slow in making an impact on the life of the two denominations,

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provided a favourable context for extended liturgical consultations from the 1980s, resulting in Old Catholic use of Anglican liturgical resources in drafting new liturgies. The 1995 Altar Book of the Old Catholic Church in Germany, in particular, owes much to the 1985 Canadian Book of Alternative Services, which had itself borrowed heavily from the 1979 revision of the Book of Common Prayer by the Episcopal Church.

La reconnaissance de la pleine communion entre les Eglises anglicanes et les vieux-catholiques ont permis à ces derniers de créer une liturgie aussi résolument catholique qu’elle est non- romaine, permettant ainsi de renforcer une identité vieille-catholique. Si la pleine communion avec les anglicans, établie par l’Accord de Bonn de 1931, n’a fait sentir ses effets que très lentement dans la vie des deux confessions, elle a offert un cadre favorable à de nombreuses consultations liturgiques depuis les années 1980. Elles ont conduit les vieux-catholiques à utiliser les ressources liturgiques anglicanes pour élaborer leurs nouvelles liturgies. Le Livre d’autel (Altarbuch) de 1995 de l’Eglise vieille-catholique d’Allemagne, en particulier, est très redevable au Book of Alternative Services canadien de 1985, qui doit lui-même beaucoup à la révision de 1979 du Book of Common Prayer de l’Eglise épiscopale aux Etats-Unis.

INDEX

Mots-clés: Eglise vieille-catholique, Eglise anglicane, liturgie Keywords: Old Catholic Church, Anglican Church, liturgy

AUTHORS

DAVID R. HOLETON

Charles University, Prague

PETR JAN VINŠ

Charles University, Prague

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The Anglican Contribution to Spanish Liturgical Life: Spanish Translations of the Book of Common Prayer and the liturgy of the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church L’apport anglican à la vie liturgique espagnole: les traductions espagnoles du Book of Common Prayer et la liturgie de l’Eglise réformée épiscopale d’Espagne

Don Carlos López-Lozano

1 The capacity of Anglican liturgical spirituality to be considered, experienced and affirmed as both Catholic and Reformed is key in the continued contribution of Anglicanism to liturgical renewal in the Church at large in the West. As in the case of the Old Catholic Churches, the process of devising a liturgy for the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church shows that the liturgical contribution of the Anglican tradition is found as much in the ecclesiological principles and identity it embodies as in the actual texts of Cranmer’s liturgy.

2 Since the 17th century, the story of liturgical cross-fertilising between the Anglican Church and Spain has essentially run down two lines: one is the story of the translation of the Book of Common Prayer into Spanish and its use by Spanish exiles in England (that Spanish translations were actually used for worship is an important difference from the Italian translations, whatever the similarities between the two stories may otherwise be). The other is the story of the development of a branch of the Anglican Church in Spain from the end of the 19th century. The Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church, right from its inception, has engaged in a highly creative and original fusing of the Prayer Book heritage and of the ancient Spanish liturgy, the Mozarabic rite. 3 There does not seem to be any causal link between the two stories, but they are nonetheless both about England, its Church and its religious heritage repeatedly

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constituting a haven for some of those Spaniards who dissented from the Roman Catholic Church. That this dissent crystallised at the end of the 19th century into the creation of a Church that fused its liturgical sense of Spanishness with Anglicanism is a testimony to the role of the Anglican tradition in the recovery by the Western Church as a whole of the fullness of its liturgical heritage. 4 Cross-influences between the Anglican liturgy and the Spanish world have worked both ways. When Thomas Cramner composed morning and evening prayer, he was influenced by the book published in 1535 by Cardenal Quiñones.1 Quiñones’ book eliminated some of the and responses, and distributed all the psalms during the week. He organized the lectionary so the Holy Scriptures could be read during the course of the year. 5 A few years before The Book of Common Prayer was published, The King´s Primer of 1545 included a collection of prayers by Ludovico, also known as el “Español,” Luis Vives de Valencia, the preceptor of Princess Mary, Catherine of Aragon’s daughter. The book was reprinted several times because these Spanish prayers were very popular and spoke to people through their sincerity and clarity.2 Spain and its people were therefore not absent from the English Reformation. 6 The more obvious example of Spanish influence on The Book of Common Prayer was the Mozarabic liturgy. Archbishop Cramner used the first printed edition of the Mozarabic liturgy in Toledo in 1500 and a Mozarabic book of hours from 1502, specifically in the organization of morning and evening prayer.3 Today in Lambeth Palace library it is possible to find two copies of these books with marginal notes by Cramner. It is very clear that when he condensed the seven hours of the Roman Breviary into morning and evening prayer he was inspired the Mozarabic rite.4 7 Given this subtle Spanish influence on the Book of Common Prayer, perhaps it was not entirely unfathomable that an indigenous form of Anglicanism eventually took hold in Spain centuries later. Seen in this historical perspective, Spanish Anglicanism, which has claimed the Mozarabic liturgical heritage, is not such an odd leap as people might at first think.

Spanish translations of the Book of Common Prayer

8 Long before the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church was founded, Anglican liturgy was not entirely unknown in the Spanish world thanks to several Spanish translations of the Prayer Book, some of which were actually used for worship.

9 Tomás Carrascón (also known by the nom de plume that he used, Fernando de Texeda) made the first complete Spanish translation of The Book of Common Prayer in the 17 th century.5 Carrascón was a Spaniard living in exile who fled the Spanish Inquisition and found religious freedom in 17th century England. He was a friend of King James I and other influential members of the English court. He enjoyed the protection of John Williams, Bishop of Lincoln and Keeper of the Great Seal, who asked him to translate the English liturgy into Spanish. It may have been thanks to this work that he was appointed canon of Hereford cathedral. 10 A fascinating book by Dr. Gregorio Marañón explains how the first Spanish edition saw the light of day.6 The story is noteworthy since it led to the first ever translation of The Book of Common Prayer into Spanish. When James I’s son, Charles Stuart, prince of Wales,

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and princess Mary, sister of King Philip I of Spain were engaged to be married, James asked for a translation of the prayer book so that Spanish courtiers could understand the catholic doctrine of the church of England. 11 The marriage never took place. This may have been due to the religious intransigence of the duke of Olivares, a close and powerful confidant of King Philip, as well as to the prejudices of the Spanish Counter Reformation. The prince of Wales turned up in Madrid without any fanfare, accompanied solely by the duke of Buckingham, wishing to meet the Spanish princess. The straight-talking Mary saw him as no more than a heretic and proceeded to cross herself in his presence in case she were spiritually damaged. Thus spurned, the prince of Wales returned home, laden with gifts and humiliated both politically and romantically.7 12 The first Spanish translation of the Prayer Book in 1623 was based on the English edition approved by Queen Elisabeth in 1559 with the changes authorised by James I in 1604, followed by a translation of the book of psalms.8 The Spanish used by the translator is particularly old-fashioned and severe. For instance, he uses “threat” to render “warning”. The Spanish text also contains a large number of spelling mistakes and omissions. He sometimes throws in articles and prepositions that are absent from the English text or adds words that the original text does not warrant. The text may have been published in a rush and the draft may not have been checked through properly. Also, the font and typesetting do not make its reading any easier.

Second and third edition of the Book of Common Prayer in Spanish in the 18th century

13 The second edition of The Book of Common Prayer in Spanish9, printed by Félix Antonio de Alvarado of Seville in 1707, basically came about as a result of the revision of the prayer book in 1662, which made it necessary to update Tomás Carrascón’s previous Spanish translation. The second edition was intended for small groups of Spanish-speaking Anglicans in London and Amsterdam, which brought together Spanish religious exiles and British merchants who traded with Spain and wanted to brush up their Spanish.10

14 Félix Antonio de Alvarado translated and revised this new edition of the prayer book. He had gone to England in exile on conscientious grounds where he publicly recanted his Roman Catholicism and joined the above-mentioned Spanish-speaking community, founded by Lord Stanhope on his return from seven years living in Spain.11 Alvarado eventually became an Anglican minister of this congregation although, to make ends meet, he did spend some of his time making translations paid for by the Quakers. 15 This edition features an extremely interesting prologue where the translator explains to the reader that the first edition had become exceedingly scarce and also that it contained a number of mistakes typical of its era, as well as printing errors. The author points out that in addition to the reforms ushered in by the religious authorities he has significantly updated the language, style, structure and spelling. He ends by pointing out that there are three different translations of the Lord’s prayer, so individual worshippers can pick the version they prefer for private prayer. He stipulates that in public worship in Spanish churches, ministers should always use the same version, the one thought to be most faithful to the original Greek. Following the 1662 English version, this volume differs from the original Spanish translation as it introduces

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prayer sequences to be used at sea or for ordinations. This newer version cuts out all the archaic language and is far more readable and stylish than its predecessor. 16 Eight years later this edition was out of print. Alvarado reprinted it in London in 1715 with London’s sizeable Spanish exile population in mind.12 Most of the changes to this edition are corrections of errata from the 1707 version, for instance amending an article or a letter here and there where they led to confusion, i.e. “ovejas” (sheep) instead of “orejas” (ears). Spanish spelling was also modernised: “parroquia” instead of “parrochia” (parish) o “catecismo” for “catechismo”. It is obvious that Alvarado read widely in Spanish and was up to speed with the latest changes in grammar and spelling back home and the way the language was evolving. 17 The most striking change in this version is Alvarado’s new prologue: “Exhortation to all the faithful of the Spanish nation who wish to bring forward the kingdom of Christ to read Holy Scripture”. This sentence clearly highlights the aims of the editor and translator. The prologue begins by praising Holy Scripture and urging the reader to read it, with biblical quotations, calling on the church councils and fathers who had supported reading Holy Scripture, focusing specifically on St John Chrysostom, quoting extensively from his sermon on Lazarus. 18 He argues for the historical importance of translating Holy Scripture, referring to a number of ancient and modern translations. Clearly, the insistence on translation and access to Scripture in the prologue was related to the overriding ambition of this version, namely to spark reform within the Spanish church by circulating the prayer book widely.

Other editions of the Book of Common Prayer in Spanish in the 19th and 20th centuries

19 New Spanish versions came out throughout the 19th century, usually as propaganda to promote reform in the Spanish and Latin American churches.

20 The historical context of the first half of the 19th century favoured regular new editions of the prayer book in Spanish. The Napoleonic invasion of the Iberian peninsula and the Anglo-Spanish Alliance against the French saw the stock of the United Kingdom, its ways and traditions, rise in Spanish eyes. This was a time of great cultural upheaval. The Duke of Wellington became a national hero and received the titles of duke of Ciudad Rodrigo and viscount of Talavera in 1812. Henceforward there would be growing numbers of Spanish religious exiles in England. The lack of religious freedom in Spain was one reason why so many editions of the prayer book were produced both for Spanish-speaking communities in England and with a view to circulating them in Spain. 21 The first reissue in the 19th century was the work of the well-known Spanish writer Joseph Blanco White (José Maria Blanco y Crespo), who was exiled in London. Blanco White, a former Roman Catholic priest, had risen to great heights within the church but had then lost his faith. In the early 1810s he was exiled in England for political reasons, being a liberal when Fernando VII had just ascended to the throne looking to restore absolutism. His language skills were such that he was considered bilingual in English and Spanish. His love of literature got him a professorship in English literature at Oxford University. Contact with the Anglican Church helped him recover his faith and

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on 19 March 1814 he became a priest of the Church of England. Bejarano tells us that in 1821 Blanco White began writing his renowned Letters from Spain. In 1822 he agreed to translate the prayer book into Spanish pro bono for the editor Mr. Bagster, who planned to send copies to Spain and South America as propaganda. It came out in London in 1823, without a printing date.13 22 This version is very different from the previous ones, as regards both the length and quality of the text.14 It became the reference point for all future editions of the prayer book in the 19th century. The translator uses modern print and punctuation. The language of the prayers is more vibrant. The rubrics, in italics, are clearer. There was a reprint in London in 1836, for which Mr. Bagster may have been responsible. 23 In 1837 the Church of England’s Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge (SPCK) brought out a new, larger edition for publication in Spain. The main point of interest is that it uses Catholic bishop Romano Félix Torres Amat’s Spanish version of the Bible, which the SPCK had published, as a way to win over Spanish readers.15 24 In 1839 the SPCK issued a new version with two different covers. One is identical to its predecessor (except for the change in the publication date). The other has a different cover.16 The reason for this second false cover was so that the Spanish authorities would not confiscate the book. Censorship was still rife in Spain. 25 In 1864 the prayer book was reissued in Spain. Although it does not say so, the SPCK must have footed the bill as it had done in the past.17 Around the same time, the prayer book was sent, along with a selection of liturgical texts, to members of the Spanish Parliament, under the title “Church of England Report” clearly from the same publisher but lacking a printing date.18 This delightful little work has a concise six-page prologue highlighting the catholicity of the Church of England’s liturgy and the publication’s educational aims, i.e. promoting reform in “other” churches. After the prologue come basic texts: the Apostles’ creed, the Lord’s prayer, the Ten Commandments, the , a selection of liturgical texts from the ordinal, a few questions from the examination of ordinands, the Te Deum, the collect for Pentecost and the tenth nona after Trinity, confession and absolution, the collect prior to Easter Sunday, the collect for the and Good Friday, the consecration canon with the relevant subheadings and exhortations to those taking communion. The end of the book features the formulation for consecrating bishops, with long and detailed explanations. In 1869 and again in 1876 the SPCK reprinted the prayer book in Spanish at the Oxford University Press.19 26 These translations did not of course spur on reforms in Catholic Spain and their use was mainly limited to groups of exiles. It was the progress of religious freedom in Spain at the end of the 19th century, combined with reaction to the First Vatican Council that allowed the rise of a minority church that looked up to the Anglican Church for inspiration. But interestingly, although direct Anglican liturgical influence can be seen, it was much more the Church of England as a model for both reclaiming and reforming the national past that flamed the imagination of the founders of the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church. This led to the publication of a Spanish prayer book which leaned on Anglican principles to resurrect the Mozarabic rite.

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The Mozarabic rite and the Spanish liturgical heritage

27 The Mozarabic liturgy has been studied several times in relationship with the liturgy of the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church.20 This liturgy was the national expression of orthodox Christianity which evolved from the 4th to the 11th century in Spain. Through the years it borrowed from diverse sources to make worship meaningful to the Spanish people.

28 The term Mozarabic means “Christians living among Arabs.” The term began to be used after 711 when the Moors conquered the Iberian peninsula and then this adjective was later applied to this liturgical rite. Prior to that, it was called the Hispanic rite or Visigothic rite. 29 No one specific date can be established as the date when the Mozarabic rite came into being. Claims have been made that this was the form of Christian worship brought to Spain by the Apostles, or borrowed from North Africa, or brought from the East by the chaplains to the Imperial troops who occupied parts of Spain from 554 until 629, or written by St. Isidore. 21 30 St. Isidore, Bishop of Seville, describes the Spanish liturgy, including the “Seven Prayers of the Faithful” in his 7th century De ecclesisticis officiis. He and Leander (Archbishop of Seville, 600) and Hildefonsus (Bishop of Toledo, 667) may be considered to be the three most important people who brought the Spanish liturgy to its height in the 7th century. Scholars believe that they were not originators of a new rite, but enriched an old national rite which had been passed down to them.22 31 Perhaps some of the confusion is due to the unstable political situation which existed in Spain from the 4th to the 11th centuries. Not only was what we now call Spain broken up into small kingdoms, but invasion and occupation first by the Visigoths and then by the Moors changed the whole way of life. 32 In the 4th century, Christianity was the dominant religion in Spain, but the same rite was not used in the various dioceses.23 33 In the 5th century the Visigoths invaded and occupied Spain, bringing with them their Arian Christianity. We can imagine that there was hostility between the two interpretations of Christianity, but this was resolved in the 6th century when King Recared accepted the Trinitarian faith. 34 In 711 the Moors had conquered almost all of Spain and occupied it until 1085 when they were driven out of Toledo. Some might think that a country overrun by Moslems would be unable to practice Christianity — the great Christian centers of North Africa disappeared under this rule — yet this was not true of Spain. The use of the Mozarabic rite was permitted continuously in the land occupied by the Moors. However, the Church was in crisis and this resulted in three centuries of decadent church practice. This spelled the end of the rite. 35 The six main books used in the Mozarabic rite were the Liber Missarum which was like the Roman Sacramentary and contained prayers for all Masses, the Liber Antiphonarum which contained the music of all antiphons and responses. The Liber Orationum which had collects for all the services but the Mass, the Liber Ordinum which contained the occasional offices, votive Masses, the Psalter, and the Liber Comicus which contained the canticles and Scripture lesson.

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36 The Mozarabic rite influenced the Gallican liturgy and through it probably the church in Northern Italy. It may also have had some effect on the English and Scottish churches by way of the Celtic liturgy. The Gallican and Celtic liturgies were also widespread but in today´s world they are almost museum pieces. And so would be the Mozarabic liturgy had it not been for the effort of Cardinal Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros, Archbishop of Toledo. 37 In the late 15th century he collected all the Mozarabic manuscripts available. He commissioned Alfonzo Ortiz and three Mozarabic priests to prepare these manuscripts for printing. In 1500 a Missal was printed and in 1502 a breviary. A permanent chapel (the Corpus Christi chapel) was set aside in the Cathedral of Toledo for the celebration of the Mozarabic liturgy, and a group of chaplains appointed. This has continued to this day. However this is now little more than a daily performance, for no one is able to receive communion there anymore. The chapel is not even a tourist attraction because few tourists know what is going on there.24 38 But the fact is that in the minds of many in the world of the church, both Catholic and Protestant, there is still a fondness for the national Mozarabic rite and many Spaniards regret its suppression.25 39 When in the mid-19th century a group of Spanish clergy and people broke away from the Church of Rome, many over the issues of the infallibility of the Pope, it was natural that they should think of reclaiming their religious heritage connected to this rite.

The Prayer Book of the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church

40 Religious freedom, even in the broadest sense, was unknown in Spain until 1868 when Queen Isabella was deposed. Before this, a number of Roman Catholic priests, who had left that church over disagreements with some of its doctrines had found refuge in Gibraltar. They formed the Spanish Reformed Church in 1868 and established a central board to govern it.26

41 These priests found many people in Spain who shared their dissatisfaction, particularly after the proclamation of the dogma of the infallibility of the Pope in 1870. Two of these priests, the Rev. Francisco Palomares and the Rev. J.B. Cabrera had become familiar with and with the Prayer Book while in exile in Gibraltar. Palomares in Seville and Cabrera in Madrid founded “reformed” congregations based on the Anglican form of worship. With the help of the Anglican Chaplain to the British Embassy, Palomares was able to buy the Church of San Basilio at Seville which had been confiscated by the government. There, in June 1871, the first public service of the “Reformed Spanish Church” was held. It was a Prayer Book service and Rev. Palomares preached.27 42 A proposal by the seven “Reformed” churches in Spain and Portugal seeking an alliance with the Anglican Communion was presented to the 1876 Lambeth Conference. The Conference recognized the suffering of their Spanish and Portuguese brethren, but felt the best solution was to give the Bishop of “the Valley of Mexico” jurisdiction over these churches. At the time, Mexico had just become a part of the Episcopal Church, and no bishop had been elected yet.

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43 In 1879, the Right Rev. H.C. Riley was consecrated bishop of Mexico, and in 1880, he presided over the first synod of the “Reformed” Church. He confirmed over one hundred people and ordained one priest on that occasion. 44 At the synod, the Rev. Cabrera was chosen as Bishop-elect of the Spanish Reformed Church, but he was not consecrated for fourteen years. This man was to be the greatest influence, the very “spirit” of the Church in his forty years of ministry. 45 Another figure expressed lasting interest and had lasting influence: Lord Plunket, then Bishop of Meath, later Archbishop of Dublin.28 As early as 1879 he was working with the Spanish and Portuguese Churches, supporting them financially and making frequent visits for and ordinations until his death some twenty years later. He was the founder of the “Spanish and Portuguese Church Aid Society,” which to this day prints prayer books, maintains churches, supports seminarians and supplements clergy income. 46 In the early 1890s Archbishop Plunket, with the approval of the Archbishop of Canterbury, arranged for these two churches to come under the jurisdiction of the disestablished . Since the “Reformed” Church did not have three bishops, the provision was that there be set up a “Provisional Council of Irish Bishops” (originally Archbishop Plunket, and Bishops Stack of Clogher and Welland of Down) who would supervise the work of these churches. 47 Without the written consent of this Council there could be no election or consecration of a bishop, and no change in doctrine, formularies, or discipline of the Church. This provision prevails to this day. 48 The Council received permission from the Irish House of Bishops to consecrate Rev. J. B. Cabrera as the first bishop of the “Reformed” Churches. He was consecrated on September 23rd, 1894, in Madrid and was active until his death in 1916. 49 Bishop Cabrera was a capable liturgical editor and was the guiding force behind the first Prayer Book used by the Spanish Reformed Church. This book was first published in 1881 and was then approved with some modification by the Synod of 1889 and is essentially the same as the Prayer Book in use in Spain today.29 50 It contained a wealth of material from the ancient Mozarabic liturgy since Bishop Cabrera felt that this major expression of their liturgical heritage should be revived. This liturgy was officially considered a museum piece as far as the Roman Catholic Church was concerned, but it still lived in the hearts of the members of the Spanish Episcopal Church. 51 The work of the Rev. Charles R. Hale, later Bishop Coadjutor of the Diocese of Springfield, Massachusetts, helped considerably to revive the Mozarabic heritage. Bishop Hale had been doing extensive research on the Mozarabic rite and had prepared a form of service for Holy Communion, assembling a multitude of collects and other variable prayers, and a Baptismal Office, all from Mozarabic sources.30 52 The reason he had made this study was that the Reformed Mexican Church had asked to become part of the Episcopal Church and desired a liturgy which would incorporate elements of their Spanish liturgical heritage in it. The Church of Jesus in the Valleys of Mexico (Iglesia de Jesus en los Valles de Mexico) like the Spanish Episcopal Church was an indigenous movement formed by former Roman Catholic priests. They followed the Anglican model of ‘Catholic but not Roman.’ They welcomed Bishop Hale’s scholarly

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work and the result was a Book of Common Prayer printed in 1901.31 Hale’s influence on Cabrera’s Prayer Book was considerable. 53 The available Mozarabic sources did not yield a complete set of offices, so in order to have a complete Prayer Book, Bishop Cabrera was forced to include material from other sources, and he wrote parts of it himself. 54 The content of the present Prayer Book is overwhelmingly traditional Mozarabic, with a small portion of Mozarabic sources derived from Hale’s work and material written by Cabrera. The rest is to be traced back to Anglican sources (including the Irish Prayer Book which contained some Mozarabic influence), the Swiss liturgy, the Roman liturgy, the Lusitanian (Portuguese) Prayer Book, and Irvingite (Catholic Apostolic Church) material. About half of the wording of Morning and Evening Prayer, the confirmation service and the marriage liturgy have been borrowed from The Book of Common Prayer. “The Prayers to be used at Sea” is taken completely from The Book of Common Prayer. For a book containing this multitude of sources it is very well edited and none of the material seems out of place with the other sources. 55 Since 1889 there have been two revisions of the Prayer Book. The first was in 1906 when additions were made to the two Offices for Baptism, and the Offices for the Ordination of Presbyters and the Consecration of Bishops were added. The second revision in 1952 provided shortened forms of several offices, notably the Communion Office, which was accepted provisionally by the Synod. Also at that time an experiment was made with a new lectionary based on the Church Year, arranged so that the lessons of special importance fall on Sundays. The Committee on Revision was careful to preserve the essential character of the 1889 book. 56 The Mozarabic Mass contained nineteen variable parts, some of which changed each day, others changed with the seasons of the church year. The Spanish Communion Service has reduced the number of variables to nine, with only the three lessons, the sermon, and the collect changing every day. The other variable parts change according to the liturgical season and can take from eight to seventeen different forms. 57 The eight Introits are all taken from Bishop Hale´s order of service, which he gleaned from Mozarabic sources. 32 58 The seventeen different Laudas (portion of the psalms that is sung after the Gospel, followed by hallelujahs) are all Mozarabic and change according to the season. 33 They change for the following times: during advent, from Christmas to New Year, from New Year to , the Feat of Epiphany, after Epiphany until Septuagesima, from Septuagesima to Lent, during Lent, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter, after Easter until Ascension, from Ascension until Pentecost, from Pentecost to Trinity, , after Trinity until Advent, on Days of Supplication, on days of Thanksgiving. 59 Fifty-three collects for Sundays and major feasts are by Bishop Hale from Mozarabic sources. The others are either traditional Mozarabic collects for the day (2nd Sunday of Advent, Christmas, Sunday after Christmas, Circumcision [2nd Collect], Easter [2 nd Collect], Ascension, Pentecost [2nd Collect], Trinity Sunday [2 nd Collect], Last Sunday after Trinity), or collects adapted from both Mozarabic and Anglican sources (Epiphany [1st Collect]) or borrowed from Anglican sources (the feast of the circumcision [1 st collect] and the 6th Sunday after the Epiphany). The collect for Thursday is by Cabrera.

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60 The Spanish Church celebrates the same Holy Days as those in the English Book of Common Prayer and the collects for those days are all by Bishop Hale, with the exception of the collect for the Transfiguration which was composed by Bishop Cabrera. 61 The Illations, which are the equivalent of the Proper Prefaces of the Book of Common Prayer before the Sanctus, change twelve times a year and all are taken from Hale´s work on Mozarabic sources with the exception of the Illation for Holy Thursday, which is Bishop Cabrera’s composition.34 . 62 The Blessing of the People (the first benediction) varies seventeen times within the Church Year35 and all variants are traditional Mozarabic blessings. 63 The Introits and the Illations have been shortened for the most part from the original Mozarabic which tended to be quite wordy.36 64 The variable Lessons are with few exceptions the traditional Mozarabic lessons for the day. While the Psalm also changes every day in the Mozarabic, the Spanish service now uses the first five verses of Psalm 106 at every celebration.

The Communion service

65 In comparing the Spanish Communion service and the Mozarabic Mass, some differences can be noted. A number of them can be attributed to the desire to return to a Mozarabic use, rid of Roman influences. This is the case for the Confession and Absolution which, in the Spanish Communion service follows the Remembrance of the Faithful Dead, before the Illation. This is a restoration to the proper position of the early Mozarabic Mass. Cardinal Cisneros’s Mass shows the later position at the beginning of the Office, which was made to conform with the Roman Mass.

66 Through Roman influence, a second commemoration of the living and the dead crept into the Mozarabic Liturgy but the Spanish prayer book has reverted to a single commemoration immediately after the Offertory section. 67 While the unique ritual of the Mozarabic rite in which the bread is broken into nine pieces (one each for: the Incarnation, the Nativity, the Circumcision, the Apparition, the Passion, the Death, the Resurrection, the Glory, and the Kingdom) and arranged symbolically on the paten in the form of a Cross with two pieces at the side has been omitted from the text of the Spanish liturgy, it is in fact practiced by most Reformed Episcopal priests when the congregation starts to sing the anthem “Gustad y Ved.” (“Taste and See”). 68 The structure of the two services is essentially the same and probably 75% of the content is the same (with minor changes of wording and abbreviations).37 The nineteen variables have been reduced to nine which seems to be a good move. The Mozarabic Mass was difficult for the faithful to follow, not just because it was in Latin, but because it was practically a new Mass every time they attended.38

Conclusion

69 The story of Anglican liturgy in the Spanish world is one which started as a history of exile and dissent in a context of Roman Catholic hegemony. When a measure of religious freedom was given in late 19th century Spain, it then turned into a history of

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bringing back to life a forgotten national liturgical tradition. This endeavour, however, might have been short-lived because of the great difficulties that the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church encountered in the years of the Franco regime. Churches were destroyed. The number of clergy went down to four at one point. At the time of the outbreak of the Civil War, every “Reformed” Church had a school for its children. These were all closed by the government. Marriage outside the Roman Catholic Church was illegal. Civil ceremonies took months or years to process and getting approval was difficult for Protestant churches. Despite their marginalization, however, Spanish Episcopalians kept their faith.

70 With the death of General Franco in 1975, Spain entered into a period of democracy and religious freedom. In 1980, the two “Reformed” churches of Spain and Portugal became fully integrated into the Anglican Communion as extra-provincial jurisdictions under the care of the Archbishop of Canterbury. 71 Today the church is well established all around Spain and it is possible to find an Anglican community in all major cities. The Church runs several social programs and projects. It maintains good relations with the Roman Catholic Church and has an official agreement with the State.39 Spanish Episcopalians are now once more making the Mozarabic liturgy a living rite, thriving in the midst of their nation. Their story may send an important message to the Anglican Communion if it wishes to grow in those parts of the world where English is not the dominant language.

NOTES

1. Francisco Quiñones,. Breviarium Romanum ex Sacra potissimum Scriptura et probatis sanctorum historiis collectum et concinnatum. Rome,1535. More generally on the influence of Quiñones on the first Books of Common Prayer, see Diarmaid MacCulloch, Cranmer (London/New Haven : Yale University Press, 1996), 222, 224-5; Geoffrey Cuming, The Godly Order: Texts and Studies relating to the Book of Common Prayer (London: Alcuin Club/ SPCK, 1983), 2-7, 62; Bryan D. Spinks, “Treasures Old and New: A Look at Some of Thomas Cranmer’s Methods of Liturgical Compilation”, in Thomas Cranmer: Churchman and Scholar, ed. Paul Ayris and David Selwyn (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1993), 177 and Francis Procter and Walter Howard Frere, A New History of the Book of Common Prayer, with a Rationale of its offices (London : Macmillan, 1902), esp. 34, 309, 341-3, 355, 369. 2. Geoffrey Curtis, “Espiritualidad Anglicana”, Dialogo Ecumenico no. 16 (1969): 501. 3. Breviarium Secundum Regulam Beati Isidori (Toledo: A. Ortiz, 1502). 4. In the Mozarabic rite there is a service specifically for clergy and people in cathedrals that condensed all the into two offices, morning and evening. On the influence of the Mozarabic rite, see Procter Frere, A New History of the Book of Common Prayer, op.cit, 571-2 and Diarmaid MacCulloch, Cranmer, op.cit., 415 5. For more on Tomas Carrascón, see William McFadden, Fernando Texeda: Complete Analysis of his Work, together With a Study of his Stay in England (1621-1631), unpublished M.A. thesis, Queen´s University, Belfast, 1933, and Rafael Carasatorre Vidaurre, “El reformista español conocido como

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Fernando Tejeda responde al nombre real del navarro Tomás Carrascón de las Cortes y Medrano”, Príncipe de Viana Año 64 no. 229 (2003): 373-391. 6. Gregorio Marañón, El Conde-Duque de Olivares. La pasioń de mandar (Madrid, 1946), 54. 7. At the same time as Carrascón was asked to produce his Spanish translation, a French- speaking Anglican minister, Dlau, was asked to do a French version, in case the prince married the French princess, Henrietta Maria, which he did eventually. 8. Liturgia Inglesa o Libro del rezado publico, de la administracion de los Sacramentos, y otros Ritos y ceremonias de la Iglesia de Ingalaterra, trans. Fernando de Texeda, 1623. Amongst the three copies held in the Biblioteca Nacional de Espana is a copy of particular interest (shelfmark : U/7576). Bound in English-style leather and bearing the golden seal of the library of its former owner, Lord Keeper; it subsequently belonged to Luis Usoz y Río, who donated it to the national library. A strange figure in Roman numerals appears on the cover as a print date, it is thought to be a printing error or an attempt to cover up the date for the benefit of the Spanish authorities, as suggested by Wiffen to Luis Usoz y Ríos, in a letter included in the volume at the national library. 9. Liturgia ynglesa, o El libro de oracion commun y administracion de los sacramentos, segun el uso de la Yglesia de Inglaterra, hispanizado por D. Felix Anthony de Alvarado, trans. Felix Anthony de Alvaredo (London: G. Bowyer, 1707). 10. El Nuevo Testamento de Nuestro Senor Jesu Christo, nuevamente sacado á luz, corregido y revisto por Sebastian de la Enzina, trans. Sebastian de la Enzina (Amsterdam: Jacob Borstio, 1718). 11. Marcelino Menéndez y Pelayo, Historia de los heterodoxos españoles (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1935), vol. 2, 398. The first volume of this book has been published in English, A History of the Spanish Heterodox, trans. Eladia Gómez-Posthill (London: Saint Austin Press, 2009). 12. La liturgia ynglesa, o El libro de la oracion comun y administracion de los sacramentos, segun el uso de la Yglesia Anglicana, hispanizado por D. Felix de Alvarado, trans. Felix Anthony de Alvaredo (London: G. Bowyer, 1715). 13. Mariano Méndez Bejarano, “Vida y obras de D. José Maria Blanco y Crespo”, Revista de Archivos, Bbliotecas y Museos (Madrid, 1920), 437. 14. The book of common Prayer, And Administration of the sacraments, And other Rites and Ceremonies according to the use of the United Church of England and Ireland: together with the psalter, or psalms of David in eight languages ... : to which are added the service at the convocation of the clergy ... with tirty- nine articles of religion, London: Samuel Bagster, 1821 OR 1825. I Could not find the 1823 edition 15. Liturgia anglicana o libro de oración común, y administración de los sacramentos, y otros ritos y ceremonias de la Iglesia, según el uso de la Iglesia de Inglaterra Irlanda: juntamente con el Salterio o salmos de David y la fórmula de la consagración, ordenación, e institución de los obispos, presbíteros y diaconos, Nueva ed. corr. y rev. por la Sociedad para Promover el Conocimiento Cristiano (Londres: impresso por Ricardo Clay, 1837). 16. Common Prayer Book and Administration of the Sacraments, and other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church, According to the Practice of the Church of England and Ireland: along with the Psalms of David (Seville: National Print Works, 1839). 17. Liturgia anglicana, ó libro de la oracion común, y administración de los Sacramentos, y otros ritos y ceremonias de la Iglesia : según el uso de la Iglesia de Inglaterra é Irlanda, juntamente con el Salterio o Salmos de David, puntuados según se han de cantar o rezar en las Iglesias ; y la fórmula de la consagracion, ordenación e institutción de los obispos presbíteros y diáconos Londres: Impreso por G.M.Wats, 1864. 18. Informe de la Iglesia de Inglaterra, su fe y culto (London: Hatchard and Co., [1866]). 19. The cover is identical to the previous edition of 1864, except for its last three lines: Oxford: University Press. 1869 and the back cover reads: Printed For the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge At The Clarendon Press, Oxford. 20. Nelson B. Hodgkins, “The Influence of the Mozarabic rite on the Liturgy of the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church”, manuscript (Alexandria, Virginia: Virginia Theological Seminary, 1959); Charles Hale, Mozarabic Collects Translated and Arranged from the Ancient Liturgy of the Spanish

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Church (New York: James Pott, 1881). The introduction to the translation of the 1889 Spanish prayer book in The Revised Prayer Book of the Reformed Spanish Church, as authorized by the Synod of that Church on May 1889, Translated by R. S. C. with an introduction by the Most Rev. Lord Plunkett, Archbishop of Dublin, 2nd edition (Dublin: Alex Thom & Co., 1894), iii-xxviii. 21. There exist various sources on this subject, I recommend a book recently translated into English, Raúl Gómez-Ruiz, SDS, Mozarabs, Hispanics and the Cross (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2007), 10-26. 22. Archdale King, Liturgies of the Primatial Sees (London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1957), 23. 23. Jordi Pinell, “El Problema de las dos tradiciones del antiguo rito hispánico. Valoracion documental de la tradición B, en vistas a una eventual revisión del ordinario de la Misa Mozarabe,” Liturgia y musica mozarabes: Ponencias y comunicaciones presentadas al I Congreso Internacional de Estudios Mozarabes, Toledo, 1975 (Toledo: Instituto de Estudios Visigotico-Mozarabes de San Eugenio, 1978), 3-44. 24. Recently the Bishop´s Conference of the Spanish Roman Catholic Church has published a new order of liturgy to be used for the small Mozarabic community in Toledo: Missale Hispano- Mozarabicum, Ordo Missae (Barcolona: Coeditores Litúrgico, 1991). 25. The Mozarabic rite was prohibited by Pope Gregory VII in a letter to King of Spain, Alfonso VI of Leon and Sancho V of Navarra in the year of 1074. But Spaniards in the 11th Century thought of the Roman rite as foreign and unfamiliar. 26. Reseña de la Instalacion del Consistorio Central de la Iglesia Española Reformada. 1868 (Gibraltar, 1868). 27. Liturgia Española (Sevilla: De Gironés y Orduña, 1871). This small booklet contains the general confession, the creed, the litany and some prayers and psalms from The Book of Common Prayer and the Mozarabic liturgy to be used for Morning Prayer. 28. Frederick Douglas How, William Conyngham Plunket: Fourth Baron Plunket and Sixty-first Archbishop of Dublin, A Memoir (London: Isbister, 1900). 29. Oficios Divinos y Administración de los Sacramentos y Otras Ordenanzas en la Iglesia Española (Madrid: J. Cruzado, 1881) and Oficios Divinos y Administración de los Sacramentos y Otros Ritos en la Iglesia Española Reformada (Madrid: J. Cruzado, 1889). . 30. Charles R. Hale, Mozarabic Liturgy and The Mexican Branch of the Catholic Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ Militant Upon Earth, a Liturgical Study (Newark, N.J.: privately printed, 1876). 31. Oficios Provisionales de la Iglesia Episcopal Mexicana o Iglesia de Jesus (Mexico: T. Gonzalez Sucesores, 1894). There is another printed edition from 1901 with more prayers, variations and alternatives (published by El Siglo XIX). This book followed more or less the printed edition of the Spanish Episcopal church of 1889 with some variations, notably the inclusion of some Mozarabic prayers. These were unfortunately eliminated when the church was absorbed into the Episcopal Church of the United States. One of the conditions was to eliminate their existing liturgy and accept the Spanish translation of the American Book of Common Prayer. 32. One for each of the following seasons: Advent, from Christmas to Septuagesima, from Septuagesima to Lent, Lent, from Easter to Ascension, from Ascension to Pentecost, from Pentecost to Trinity, from Trinity to Advent. 33. Advent, from Christmas to New Year, from New Year to Epiphany, the Feat of Epiphany, after Epiphany until Septuagesima, from Septuagesima to Lent, Lent, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter, after Easter until Ascension, from Ascension to Pentecost, from Pentecost to Trinity, Trinity Sunday, after Trinity until Advent, on days of Supplication, on days of Thanksgiving. 34. Advent, from Christmas to Epiphany, from Epiphany to Septuagesima, from Septuagesima to Lent, during Lent, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, from Easter to Ascension, from Ascension to Pentecost, from Pentecost to Trinity, Trinity Sunday, from Trinity to Advent. 35. Advent, from Christmas to New Year, from New Year to Epiphany, Epiphany, after Epiphany until Septuagesima, from Septuagesima to Lent, Lent, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter, after

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Easter until Ascension, from Ascension until Pentecost, from Pentecost until trinity, Trinity Sunday, after Trinity until Advent, on days of Supplication, on days of Thanksgiving. 36. One contained fifty-two lines in the original! 37. The only other changes that I could identify concern the Mozarabic collect and the Missia and Alia Oratio. The Mozarabic collect is traditionally found in either of two places: after the Sacrificium or at the beginning of the service. The Spanish Church has placed it in yet another position, before the Prayer for Peace. The reason for this I have not been able to discover, so I will have to be satisfied by simply mentioning it. In the Mozarabic, the Missa and Alia Oratio are really one prayer with two parts: the first addressed to the people and the second to God. In the Spanish Church they have been reversed, but this seems unimportant to me since the two parts are still discernable. 38. Simplification may also be behind the move to avoid too many double endings on prayers — a noted characteristic of the Mozarabic rite — at the conclusion of petitions especially where the choir responds “Amen,” and also when the celebrant says the Doxology and again when the choir responds with “Amen.” This occurs only twice in the Communion Office but more often in the Morning and Evening Offices of the Spanish book. 39. One of the best sources for more information about the Spanish Reformed Episcopal church is Francisco Serrano Álvarez, Contra Vientos y Mareas,, Barcelona,: CLIE, 2000.

ABSTRACTS

Spanish translations of the Book of Common Prayer in the 17 th and 18th century and their use by various groups of Spanish Protestant exiles are a testimony to early interactions between the Anglican Church and Spain. Given this history, the creation in the late 19th century of the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church, the small Spanish branch of the Anglican Communion, is not as odd as may first appear. In its prayer book, the Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church has fused the liturgical tradition represented by the Book of Common Prayer with the Mozarabic rite, the ancient liturgy of Spanish Christians. It thereby seeks to provide a door to Spain’s own indigenous liturgical heritage, which has virtually been forgotten in Spanish Roman Catholic practice. The Spanish, national identity of Anglicans in Spain is thus affirmed and celebrated.

Les premiers liens entre l’Espagne et l’Eglise anglicane se mettent en place dès les XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles, par le biais des traductions du Book of Common Prayer et de leur utilisation par divers groupes de protestants espagnols réfugiés en Angleterre. Ces précédents éclairent la création, à la fin du XIXe siècle, de l’Eglise réformée épiscopale d’Espagne, création finalement moins inattendue que l’on pourrait le croire. La liturgie créée par l’Eglise réformée épiscopale associe la tradition liturgique du Book of Common Prayer au rite mozarabe, la liturgie espagnole du haut Moyen Age. Elle cherche ainsi à offrir une occasion de renouer avec la tradition liturgique propre à l’Espagne, qui avait quasiment complètement disparu de la pratique de l’Eglise catholique romaine espagnole. Aussi la spécifité nationale espagnole des anglicans d’Espagne est-elle affirmée et reconnue.

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INDEX

Mots-clés: anglicanisme, rite mozarabe, liturgie, Espagne, traduction Keywords: Anglicanism, Mozarabic rite, liturgy, Spain, translation

AUTHOR

DON CARLOS LÓPEZ-LOZANO

Spanish Reformed Episcopal Church

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In Search of a Liturgical Patrimony: Anglicanism, Gallicanism & Tridentinism A la recherche d’un patrimoine liturgique : anglicanisme, gallicanisme et tridentinisme

Peter M. Doll

1 The non-Roman catholicity of the Anglican liturgical tradition, which appeals so much to the Old Catholics, also provides a door for Roman Catholics to a half-forgotten Catholic patrimony. One of the most remarkable features of the pontificate of Benedict XVI was his determination to recover some of richness of liturgical tradition that he believed had been lost in the reforms since Vatican II.1 In 2007 he declared in the motu proprio Summorum Pontificum that both the Novus Ordo post-Vatican II rite of the Mass and the 1962 revision of the Tridentine rite were legitimate forms of the one Roman Rite, thereby breaking at a stroke the tradition that there should be only one version of the Roman Rite for the universal Church. In 2009 Benedict issued in addition an apostolic constitution entitled Anglicanorum coetibus providing for personal ordinariates for Anglicans entering into full communion with the Roman Catholic Church.2 In it, he made a remarkable provision for a distinct Anglican liturgical character within the Roman Church:

2 Without excluding liturgical celebrations according to the Roman Rite, the Ordinariate has the faculty to celebrate the Holy Eucharist and the other Sacraments, the Liturgy of the Hours and other liturgical celebrations according to the liturgical books proper to the Anglican tradition, which have been approved by the Holy See, so as to maintain the liturgical, spiritual and pastoral traditions of the Anglican Communion within the Catholic Church, as a precious gift nourishing the faith of the members of the Ordinariate and as a treasure to be shared. 3 By making this provision for an within the Western Church, he opened the way for even greater diversity of liturgical culture. When Benedict allowed both ‘ordinary’ and ‘extraordinary’ forms of the one Roman rite, he expressed the hope that

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the two might be ‘mutually enriching’.3 By adding the Anglican liturgical tradition to the mix, his explicit intention was that the ‘liturgical, spiritual and pastoral traditions of the Anglican Communion’ were ‘a treasure to be shared’ with the rest of the Church. What, then, is the character of this Anglican tradition from which Benedict was confident that others should learn? 4 The very diversity of liturgical culture which these developments encourage is in fact a notable characteristic of the Anglican ‘patrimony’. In addition to the reformed influences from Wittenberg, Geneva and Zurich, the Anglican liturgical tradition is also a throwback to older Catholic traditions lost to the centralizing spirit of Ultramontane Catholicism in the nineteenth century. Through most of its existence, members of the Church of England both before and after the Reformation have been influenced by developments in Continental Catholicism. Anglican and Catholic theologies have been influenced by parallel if sometimes divergent intellectual currents. Anglicanism is in many ways an English expression of the Catholic tradition known as ‘Gallicanism’.4 In this context, Gallicanism denotes that expression of Catholicism (particularly associated with the Church of France but also influential elsewhere) with deep roots in national character and local liturgical and devotional traditions; a strong sense of identity with the undivided Church of the early Fathers; and a looser, conciliar, collegial structure in which authority is shared between the Pope and diocesan bishops. These characteristics bear a strong resemblance to what has been known as ‘classical Anglicanism’. Tridentinism, or Ultramontanism, on the other hand, looks directly to the papacy and the contemporary Roman Church for its source of authority and identity. 5 This paper focuses on the architectural setting of the liturgy because once the text of the Book of Common Prayer has been agreed, all subsequent liturgical decisions are about how that text is to be performed: what is the form and decoration of the church building; how do clergy and laity relate and move within the space; what vestments are worn and what music sung or played. The development of the performance of the liturgy has never been tied down to Cranmer’s theology; theologies of worship developed that were at variance with the official text if not in contradiction to it. 6 The scholarly assessment of Anglican worship in the century after the death of Henry VIII has been very much caught up in the various conflicting approaches to the reigns of the Tudors and Stuarts. Kenneth Fincham and Nicholas Tyacke have summarised revisionist scholarship of the last thirty years on the architectural setting of the Eucharist in this period.5 The first Book of Common Prayer (1549) in the reign of King Edward VI allowed the retention of Eucharistic vestments and ceremonial. From the second Prayer Book of 1552 to the early seventeenth century, however (excepting the reign of Philip and Mary, 1553-58), the Puritan liturgical agenda dominated the church. Images were removed and decorated walls whitewashed, and lofts taken down (but screens largely left in place), and altars and altar steps removed, replaced by wooden communion tables set up table-wise (east and west) in the body of the chancel rather than altar-wise (north and south) at the east end. Typically the liturgy of the Word would be celebrated in the nave of the church. When the Eucharist was celebrated, clergy and people together would ‘draw near with faith’ by moving through the screen into the chancel to gather together around the communion table. 7 The only significant exception to this arrangement for the communion table was Queen Elizabeth’s Chapel Royal, furnished with an altar set altar-wise, up steps and furnished

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with candles and a crucifix. Elizabeth’s Injunctions of 1559 ruled that the ‘holy table’ should be ‘set in the place where the altar stood’ except at the celebration of communion, when it would stand in the midst of the chancel, but this rule was generally ignored. Rather than presiding over what has been seen as an Anglican via media, Elizabeth fought a largely unsuccessful campaign against the thoroughgoing iconoclasm of the Edwardian reaction against Mary’s restoration of Catholicism. In this period, Elizabeth's was a lonely voice in the Protestant establishment to argue in favour of a traditional liturgical setting. 8 Just when the Puritan triumph seemed complete, however, there emerged in the last decade of Elizabeth’s reign an ‘avant-garde’ of clergy, led by Richard Hooker and Lancelot Andrewes, who not only were committed to greater ceremonialism in worship but also increasingly questioned what passed for Puritan orthodoxy. For the avant- garde, it was not sufficient to reject ornaments and ceremonies simply because Roman Catholics had them. In common with many European scholars of diverse traditions, Hooker found justification for ceremonious worship from the precedent of the Jerusalem Temple. Of his Puritan opponents he wrote: [They have] a fancy … against the fashion of our churches, as being framed according to the pattern of the Jewish temple. … So far forth as our churches and their temple have one end, what should let but that they may lawfully have one form?6 9 The Temple was understood to be not simply the archetype of the Christian church building, it was also a model for civic planning and a means of articulating the symbiotic relationship between church and state. King Philip II of Spain’s self- identification with King Solomon shaped the design of his monastery/palace El Escorial (1563-1584). The Spanish Law of the Indies of 1573 designated a model of civic planning based on the vision of Ezekiel (ch. 40) as interpreted by the Franciscan Nicholas of Lyra (d. 1349).7 The Spanish Jesuit theological and architectural scholars Juan Bautista Villalpando and Hector Prado published a monumental three-volume treatise on Ezekiel’s vision of the Temple8 which influenced projects as diverse as the design of the English Puritan New Haven Colony in Connecticut (1639),9 the widely exhibited model ‘Templo’ built by Rabbi Jacob Judah Leon (ca. 1602-75), and ultimately the design of the Portuguese Great Synagogue of Amsterdam.10

10 The Temple tradition retained a unique power and significance in the Christian mind, and the Church of England made its own claim to that heritage. Even through much of the nineteenth century, a conscious link with the Temple was at the heart of church building. Queen Elizabeth’s church orders of October 1561 insisted on the retention of chancel screens (standing for the of the Temple hanging before the Holy of Holies) and that ‘the tables’ of the Decalogue (Ten Commandments) should ‘be fixed upon the wall over the said communion board’. The tablets of the Ten Commandments were kept in the Ark of the Covenant in the Holy of Holies in the Temple, the throne of God’s presence guarded by two cherubim (1 Kings 8.6). From the early seventeenth century the commandments were frequently augmented by brightly painted images of Moses and Aaron like that commissioned by Archbishop Whitgift for the chapel of his hospital at Croydon in 1601.11 In the church/temple typology, the chancel stood as the Holy of Holies in the Temple, the screen as the Veil, the altar as the Mercy Seat or throne of God where the Lord was present in the Eucharistic Mystery. The decorative motifs both in churches and popular prints were taken from the Temple: the tables of the Ten Commandments, the shekinah (depicted as a sunburst or glory because of its

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association with the Pillar of Fire), clouds, cherubim, the Tetragrammaton or Holy Name. All of these were symbols of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist just as in the Temple they had pointed to the abiding presence of the Lord in the midst of his people. Altarpieces of the period would commonly bring together a number of these elements, as in the simple rural church of St Katherine, Chislehampton, Oxon (1763). 11 Historians have often distinguished Puritans and High Churchmen by associating Puritans primarily with the Word and preaching and High Churchmen with sacramental religion. Arnold Hunt has rightly argued that this is a false dichotomy.12 Puritan and High Churchman alike held both preaching and the sacrament of the Eucharist in high regard. Even when their beliefs about the Eucharist coincided, however, they were divided by the kind of language they chose to use to express those beliefs. Reformed Patristic theologians like Lancelot Andrewes, Joseph Mede, William Laud, John Overall, Herbert Thorndike, and Jeremy Taylor chose to use the language of ‘altar’ and ‘sacrifice’ and ‘oblation’ drawn from their typological interpretation of Temple worship and from the Fathers and the liturgies of the Eastern Church, but Puritans rejected it because this was also the language of Roman Catholicism.13 The full title of the work which summed up the thought of the Patristic school, The Unbloody Sacrifice (1704) by John Johnson of Cranbrook, conveys precisely the points in contention: The Unbloody Sacrifice, and Altar, Unvailed and Supported, in which the nature of the Eucharist is explained according to the sentiments of the Christian Church in the four first centuries; Proving, That the Eucharist is a proper material Sacrifice, That it is both Eucharistic and propitiatory, That it is to be offered by proper officers, That the Oblation is to be made on a proper Altar, That it is properly consumed by manducation.14 12 These Biblical and Patristic ideals inspired architects including Christopher Wren (the son and nephew of Laudian high churchmen) and Nicholas Hawksmoor.15 Sacramental theology also found visual expression in prints associated with popular commentaries on the liturgy. Jeremy Taylor’s Eucharistic theology from his devotional favourite The Worthy Communicant (1660) is visually echoed in the frontispiece of Charles Wheatly’s Rational Illustration of the Book of Common Prayer (1722), the standard Prayer Book commentary in the eighteenth century: 13 The church being the image of heaven, the priest, the minister of Christ; the holy table being the copy of the celestial altar, and the eternal sacrifice of the lamb slain from the beginning of the world being always the same; it bleeds no more after the finishing of it on the cross, but it is wonderfully represented in heaven, and graciously represented here; by Christ’s action there, by his commandment here.16 14 The emphasis on the Temple was an extension of the concern of the churches of the Protestant and Catholic reformations for the witness of the Fathers of the early and undivided Church, each side appealing to patristic authority as justification for their doctrines and actions.17 The Fathers themselves looked to the Temple and the whole Old Covenant as typological precedent for the Scriptures and church life of the New Covenant. Concern for the Primitive Church also excited interest among many Anglicans in the successors to the Eastern Fathers in the Orthodox Church. Anglicans looked to the Orthodox as fellow non-Roman Catholic Christians with a shared devotion to the primitive Church.18 Lancelot Andrewes in his liturgical practice and patronage inspired the introduction of Orthodox liturgical practices into the Prayer Book rites. As Peter McCullough has observed, ‘When Andrewes was thinking liturgically, he did so eastward-facing, to ecumenical councils, Eastern liturgies, and even Eastern fittings.’19

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His influence is particularly evident in the Scottish liturgy of 1637 and the rites descended from it. If it is less evident in the 1662 Prayer Book, Andrewes’ influence on English liturgical theology was nevertheless profound. 15 The movement in the early 1600s for the beautification of churches anticipated the Laudian reforms of the 1630s, with their emphasis on the ‘beauty of holiness’. This artistic movement was in tension between a continuity in identity with the pre- Reformation Church in England (with a strong strain of gothic survivalism) and the exciting but decidedly theologically risky world of the continental baroque.20 As the use of images become more common in churches, so English artists turned to prints readily available from the Continent for inspiration and guidance. Biblical images by Catholic artists made widely available in prints particularly from Flanders were translated into stone, plaster, wood, and glass in English churches and houses alike. Through these prints, some of the symbols most powerfully connected with the Jesuits and the Tridentine reforms became part of the common visual currency in England, losing any of the negative connotations that might have been associated with their ultimate source. The Jesuit motif of the flaming heart, of the IHS (the sacred monogram of Holy Name of Jesus), of the Shekinah (the Hebrew term for the glorious presence of the Lord) depicted as a sunburst all came to be commonly used in Anglican contexts: architectural elements, plate, vestments, and devotional illustrations. Most ironic of all, the very emblem of the Society of Jesus became the most common symbol associated with communion silver in the Church of England. Although this is an instance of significant Tridentine influence in England, Anglicans used the images for their common Christian themes rather than their particular Roman associations. 16 At the same time the avant-garde and their Laudian successors were keen to vindicate the continuity of the Church of England with its medieval predecessor through the uninterrupted episcopal succession rather than tracing the Puritan-inspired line of descent through proto-Protestants like Wycliffe, Hus, and the Waldensians. Those advocating more elaborate ceremonies and decoration of churches appealed to medieval precedent and adopted gothic forms. The College Chapel at Lincoln College, Oxford, was built in 1629-31 in a late perpendicular gothic style, and the apostles in the windows by Abraham van Linge stand under conventionally medieval canopies. Even in the mid-seventeenth century, surviving late Gothic forms remained a natural building style, as in the chancel screen commissioned in the 1630s by John Cosin at Sedgefield in County Durham. This growing awareness of the Church of England as a national catholic church with its apostolic Episcopal order, its strongly patristic theological identity, its own English liturgical use, and its local architectural tradition fostered a strong sense of common identity with the Gallican tradition which some leading churchmen, like Bishop Richard Montagu, worked hard to exploit.21 17 For their part, Gallicans were well aware of the Anglican contribution to their common patristic concerns. The great preacher and ecclesiastical statesman Jacques Benigne Bossuet, bishop of Meaux, was also patron of the Gallican patristic apologists. He and his allies acclaimed Bishop George Bull’s work defending the Nicene faith, the Maurist Jean Mabillon recommended works by Anglican scholars for inclusion in monastic libraries.22 The orientalist and liturgist Eusèbe Renaudot familiarised Bossuet with the theology of Lancelot Andrewes and others so that Bossuet came to realise that Anglican teaching supported Christ’s real (though not corporeal) presence in the Eucharist.

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Through the scholarship of Mabillon, Bossuet even came to affirm the validity of Anglican orders.23 18 A common line of Anglican and Gallican thinking is revealed in contemporary attitudes to chancel screens. The ideal church of the counter-reformation was the Jesuit church in Rome, the Gesú, with its shallow chancel and its absence of a screen, thus bringing the theatre of the mass close to the people. In many of the ancient churches and cathedrals, the medieval screen, or jubé, was being removed amidst the general enthusiasm for baroque furnishings. The focus on the high altar, preferably with a marble-columned or baldacchino, meant that many ancient furnishings and tombs were being swept away. Through Gallican influences, however, the principle of the screen did not disappear. John McManners notes, ‘In some places the medieval work was replaced with a more delicately constructed barrier, one which broke up the view without obliterating it – a grille of ironwork in acanthus designs at Rieux, a row of Ionic pillars at Sens.’ At Rouen the old screen was replaced by a new colonnade ‘consisting of six marble shafts of antique workmanship, plundered long ago from the ruins of Leptis Magna in North Africa.’24 Even some new churches built in the classical style in Paris, such as St Eustache, St Roch, and St Sulpice, were built with chancel screens. 19 Gallican theologians wrote spirited defenses of the place of choir screens in church. The liturgical theologian Jean-Baptiste Thiers published a Dissertations sur les jubés in 1688. Le Brun des Marettes, a Jansenist liturgist and expert on the liturgical traditions of Notre-Dame de Rouen, wrote (under the pseudonym De Moleon) in his Voyage liturgique de France of 1718, ‘There is no higher act in the Christian religion than the Sacrifice of the mass; the greater portion of the other sacraments, and nearly all the offices and ceremonies of the church, are only the means or the preparation to celebrate or participate in it worthily.’ This being the case, it was only natural that the place where the holy sacrifice was offered up should be set apart and railed off to enhance the people’s reverence for the sacrifice.25 William Beveridge, the eminent patristic theologian and future Bishop of St Asaph, expressed himself in similar terms. When his parish church of St Peter, Cornhill in London, was rebuilt (1681) after the Great Fire of London, he insisted it had a chancel screen: The Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper being the highest mystery in all our religion, as representing the death of the Son of God to us, hence that place where this Sacrament is administered was always made and reputed the highest place in the church. And therefore, also, it was wont to be separated from the rest of the church by a screen or partition of network, in Latin, cancelli, and that so generally, that from thence the place itself is called the ‘Chancel’.… It may be sufficient to observe at present, that the Chancel in our Christian churches was always looked upon as answerable to the Holy of Holies in the Temple; which, you know, was separated from the sanctuary or body of the Temple, by the command of God Himself.26 20 Wrought-iron chancel screens in Anglican and Gallican churches, like those in All Saints, Derby and Amiens Cathedral, have both the same rationale and appearance.

21 The chancel screen also provides a link to the leading English liturgical architect of the nineteenth century, Augustus Welby Pugin, who believed passionately in the liturgical necessity of screens to a Christian church. Pugin was the chief begetter of the Gothic Revival in a meteoric career (he died aged only 40) that changed the face and mind of British architecture. Converted to Roman Catholicism as a young man, his passion was

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to redeem the ugly, industrialising, laissez-faire England of his day by restoring the fabric and values and faith of an idealized medieval England.27 22 In his determination Pugin was particularly inspired by the neo-Gallican liturgists and historians of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century France who celebrated the particular traditions, rites, and ceremonies of the medieval French church as opposed to those of Rome. Pre-eminent among the authorities Pugin most frequently cites in his writings are Jean-Baptiste Thiers, Dom Edmond Martène, and Le Brun des Marettes. Just as these Frenchmen celebrated their own native traditions, so Pugin believed the English Church ought to revive the English traditions of the Sarum rite. 23 During the early years of his career as the architect of choice for a Roman Catholic Church regaining confidence about its place in English society, Pugin’s enthusiasm for the Gothic swept all before him. He encouraged the church to look back to its days of medieval glory, and even the most enthusiastic Romanists, like Cardinal Wiseman, were convinced that this was the right way forward for English Catholics to assert their place in the mainstream of English life. Pugin had rich and complaisant patrons, like the Earl of Shrewsbury, who were prepared to indulge him; he had celebrity and the knowledge of his authority as the expert on Gothic architecture and he was buoyed up by the popular medieval romanticism of the time. Pugin took his passion for screens with him wherever he built a church. For a time, other future converts, led by Newman, shared his Gothic enthusiasm. 24 Once the new generation of Anglicans went over to Rome around 1845, however, their attitude to Pugin changed entirely. W.G. Ward became convinced that only doing things as Rome did could be acceptable and he became a vigorous opponent of medieval or Gallican usages and traditions. Newman had rejoiced in the Gothic of St Giles, Cheadle (the church that most fully exemplifies Pugin’s ideals), when it opened in 1845; before 1841, he had expressed repugnance with the architecture of Renaissance Rome. Now that he had become a Roman Catholic, he lost his interest in the Gothic and took a greater delight in the classical with every step he took toward Rome. He wrote of the Church of St Fidelis, Milan, in 1846, It has such a sweet, smiling, open countenance – and the Altar is so gracious and winning – standing out for all to see, and to approach. The tall, polished marble columns, the marble rails, the marble floor, the bright pictures, all speak the same language. And a light dome perhaps crowns the whole … so in the ceremonial of religion, younger men have my leave to prefer gothic, if they will be [sic] tolerate me in my weakness which requires the Italian.28 25 Newman came to prefer churches in the style that followed the Jesuit pattern of a shallow chancel, no screen, altar rails, by which the people could come closer to the altar than in a Gothic church and thus see and hear better. The style of the Oratory of St Philip Neri suited Newman perfectly; he had found an architectural and liturgical setting where he felt perfectly at home.

26 This change of heart led to a fierce quarrel between Newman and Pugin. For these two men, it was not simply a difference in architectural style, but also the liturgical and doctrinal implications that went with them. The argument became deeply personal. Frederick Faber, already an Oratorian, tore down the that Pugin had built for the church at Cotton Hall. Newman took to spelling ‘screen’ with a ‘k’ to show his contempt for this medieval relic.29

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27 Newman as an Oratorian believed that sight and sound were of the greatest importance in the Roman liturgy and that chancel screens blocked the people’s sight of the sacrament. As long as English Catholics continued to focus on their own national architecture and traditions, they would lapse into the sins of the national church and fail to be properly Roman. Newman became so incensed by Pugin’s Gothic intransigence that Newman went so far as to denounce Pugin to the Secretary of the Propaganda in Rome in 1848, accusing him of doctrinal inaccuracy and insinuating that he was a Gallican, schismatic, anti-Roman and disloyal to the Pope.30 The Oratorians’ hatred of Gothic became so overheated that Faber wrote that if St Philip Neri had possessed a ‘dark Gothic cathedral’ he would have ‘pulled it down, and built another more to his own taste’ and that therefore the Oratorians should ‘pull down the buildings of our fathers’, even Westminster Abbey if necessary. Faber believed that to convert the English, the Oratorians needed to offer the kind of light, popular, dramatic service like Benediction for which he believed Gothic churches were entirely unsuitable.31 28 The reversal was particularly painful for Pugin. He seemed to be losing all the credit and influence he had in the Catholic Church. His dream of a revived medieval Catholic England receded further and further. He did derive some comfort that many Anglicans remained faithful to the vision of a national catholic church. In his pamphlet, An Earnest Address on the Establishment of the Hierarchy in 1851, Pugin even expressed admiration of certain high Anglicans and gratitude that men like William Laud, John Cosin and John Hacket (bishop of Lichfield and Coventry and rebuilder of Lichfield Cathedral after the Civil War) had defended traditional liturgies and ceremonies and ancient buildings from the Puritans. ‘The name of Hacket and Cosin may awaken a grateful remembrance in a Catholic heart’, Pugin wrote.32 29 In his final riposte to the Oratorians, he wrote the most significant publication of his maturity, A Treatise on Chancel Screens and Rood Lofts in 1851. In it he showed how far he had moved beyond a monomaniacal devotion to Gothic as he explained the role of the chancel screen in the Church throughout the centuries, in buildings of all different architectural styles and periods. In a scarcely veiled attack on the Oratorians, Pugin claimed, ‘We have now to contend for the great principles of Catholic antiquity, -- tradition and reverence against modern development and display. It is not a struggle for taste or ornament, but a contention for vital principles. There is a most intimate connection between the externals of religion and the faith itself; and it is scarcely possible to preserve the interior faith in the doctrine of the holy Eucharist if all exterior reverence and respect is to be abolished.’33 The Oratorian fixation on the necessity of seeing was, Pugin claimed, a capitulation to Protestant principles. He applied the title ‘ambonoclast’, or destroyer of screens, to Puritan and ‘Paganisers’ alike: ‘It is remarkable what a similarity of feeling against screens is to be found among Puritans and Paganisers.’ 34 30 Far from being confined by medieval precedent, Pugin detailed how the screen had been part of churches from the time the first public churches were created. He drew on primitive antiquity (old St Peter’s) as well as modern classical churches. He also made a point of including screens, whether Gothic in style or not, erected in the Church of England since the Reformation. Pugin explained how the discipline of the early Church taught that only those in a state of grace could safely look on the sacrament but that since then the church’s discipline had changed. The church now taught that looking on

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the host was beneficial. Pugin did not have a problem with the emphasis on seeing the host but did not believe that this necessitated destroying old forms and devotions. He railed against ‘the modern all-seing principle’ and ‘making the mass a sight’ which, he thought, would ‘lower the majesty of religion to the level of a common show’.35 31 Despite all the learning and powers of persuasion Pugin brought to his cause, his opponents were not to be convinced. Even those who had warmly supported him in the past, including Cardinal Wiseman, turned their support to the Romanists. The degree to which Pugin felt isolated within his own Catholic community may be inferred by the title of his last work, unpublished at his death: An Apology for the Separated Church of England since the reign of the eighth Henry. Written with every feeling of Christian charity for her children, and in honour of the glorious men she continued to produce in evil times. By A. Welby Pugin. Many years a Catholic minded son of the Anglican Church, and still an affectionate and loving brother and servant of the true sons of England’s Church.36 32 With the development of the Oxford Movement into the Ritualist movement in the later nineteenth century, high church Anglicans became more than ever conscious of the sources of their ritual choices. By the early twentieth century, two tendencies (anticipated in the seventeenth century) had hardened into definite parties as mutually scornful of one another as Pugin and the Oratorians.37 The Anglo-Papalists, represented by the Society of St Peter and St Paul, nailed their colours to the Tridentine mast, choosing to worship according to the Roman rite and following the fashions prevalent in Continental Catholicism.38 They scorned the approach of their rivals at the Alcuin Club as ‘British Museum religion’. These ‘Prayer Book Catholics’ strove to remain as faithful as possible to the rubrics of the Prayer Book, interpreting the ‘ornaments rubric’ as permitting, even requiring, the use of all the Sarum vestments, furnishings, and ceremonial current in the first half of 1549.39 St Cyprian’s, Clarence Gate (1903), designed by Ninian Comper for the Sarum rite is a good example. With its gilt screens, ‘English altars’ hung with curtains on three sides, amply shaped medieval vestments, plainchant music sung from the rood loft, processions facilitated by the absence of fixed seating, this church provided the setting for the fullest expression of the ancient English rite. Its consecration rite was based on the mid-eighth century pontifical of Egbert, Archbishop of York. The historic affinity between Anglicanism and Gallicanism, based upon their common understanding of national catholic churches independent of Rome, was here expressed architecturally and liturgically. Ironically, Pugin’s Gothic vision had come to be realized most fully in the Anglican Church he had left for Rome. 40 33 Comper himself (like Pugin) later turned away from his strict adherence to the late medieval tradition towards incorporating the styles of liturgical planning of the early Church. He became a pioneer of the Liturgical Movement which, in the twentieth century, would render obsolete these battles about historical correctness. As in the seventeenth century, so the leaders of the Liturgical Movement in many denominations turned their gaze away from the Middle Ages toward the worship of the early Church. Never since the Middle Ages had the Eucharistic worship of the Church had such a strong family resemblance. 34 Most recently, however, there has been a revival of interest in historic forms of liturgy, inspired not least by the preferences of Pope Benedict himself. When he came to Britain in 2010, it was widely reported how moved he had been by the Anglican worship at Westminster Abbey – the papal spokesman Fr Federico Lombardi acknowledged that

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Pope Benedict had been ‘impressed’ by the ‘richness’ of the liturgy. Here was something from which Roman Catholics could learn. This would be the style of the Ordinariate. How ironic then, that his vision should be formed at the Abbey, whose worship remains shaped by the medieval Sarum tradition of Prayer Book Catholicism, for this is precisely the style that papalist Anglicans in England have most firmly rejected in favour of the modern Catholic style. 35 Pope Francis has not the same interest in liturgical tradition as his precedessor, but his commitment to decentralise the Church and to share authority collegially with his brother bishops is evidence that the Gallican conciliar tradition shared with Anglicans may be a significant part of the future of the Roman Catholic Church. Whatever the future of the Ordinariate, we can be sure that Anglican and Roman styles of worship in the foreseeable future will continue to be shaped by the Gallican, Tridentine, and early Christian traditions.

NOTES

1. See the origins of this programme in Joseph Ratzinger, The Spirit of the Liturgy (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2000). 2. Anglicanorum coetibus, 4 November 2009. 3. Letter of His Holiness Benedict XVI to the bishops on the occasion of the publication of the publication of the Apostolic Letter ‘Motu Proprio Data’ Summorum Pontificum on the use of the Roman Liturgy prior to the reform of 1970, 7 July 2007. 4. Significant recent works on Gallicanism include Jacques M. Gres-Gayer, Le Gallicanisme de Sorbonne (Paris: Champion, 2002) and Emile Perreau-Saussine, Catholicism and Democracy: An Essay in the History of Political Thought (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011). 5. Kenneth Fincham and Nicholas Tyacke, Altars Restored. The Changing Face of English Religious Worship, 1547-c.1700 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). In addition, G.W.O. Addleshaw and Frederick Etchells, The Architectural Setting of Anglican Worship (London: Faber and Faber, 1948) remains a crucial resource. 6. Richard Hooker, Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, Bk v, ch. 14, in The Works of that Learned and Judicious Divine, Mr Richard Hooker, ed. John Keble (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1888), II, 51-52. 7. See Jaime Lara, City, Teple, Stage. Exchatological Architecture and Liturgical Theatrics in New Spain (Notre Dame, Ind: University of Notre Dame Press, 2004), ch. 4. 8. In Ezechielem explanationes et apparatus urbis ac templi Hierosolymitani commentariis et imaginibus illustrati (Rome, 1596-1604). 9. John Archer, ‘Puritan Town Planning in New Haven’ Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 34 (2), (1975): 140-149. 10. A. K. Offenburg, ‘Jacob Jehuda Leon (1602-1675) and his Model of the Temple’ in J. Van den Berg and Ernestine G. E. Van der Wall, eds. Jewish-Christian Relations in the Seventeenth Century, (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1988), 95-115. 11. Stephen Porter and Adam White, ‘John Colt and the Charterhouse Chapel’, Architectural History 44 (2001): 228-236. 12. Arnold Hunt, ‘The Lord’s Supper in Early Modern England’, Past & Present, No. 161 (1998), 39-83.

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13. Achsah Guibbory, Christian Identity, Jews and Israel in Seventeenth-Century England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), chap. 2. 14. The Theological Works of the Rev. John Johnson (Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1847), vol. 1. 15. See especially Pierre de la Ruffinière du Prey, Hawksmoor’s London Churches: Architecture and Theology (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000). 16. Cited in C. W. Dugmore, Eucharistic Doctrine in England from Hooker to Waterland (London: S.P.C.K., 1942), 102. For further exploration into Temple motifs in Anglican churches, see Peter Doll, ‘The Architectural Expression of Primitive Christianity: William Beveridge and the Temple of Solomon’ Reformation and Renaissance Review 13.2 (2011): 275-306. 17. Jean-Louis Quantin, The Church of England and Christian Antiquity: The Construction of a Confessional Identity in the 17th Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009); Paul Avis, In Search of Authority: Anglican Theological Method from the Reformation to the Enlightenment (London: Bloomsbury, 2014). 18. Peter M. Doll, ed. Anglicanism and Orthodoxy 300 Years after the ‘Greek College’ in Oxford (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2006); Judith Pinnington, Anglicans and Orthodox: Unity and Subversion 1559-1725 (Leominster: Gracewing, 2003). 19. Peter McCullough, ‘Absent Presence. Lancelot Andrewes and 1662’ in Stephen Platten and Christopher Woods, eds. Comfortable Words. Polity and Piety and the Book of Common Prayer (London: SCM, 2012), 49-68. 20. Graham Parry, The Arts of the Anglican Counter-Reformation: Glory, Laud and Honour (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2006). 21. Anthony Milton, Catholic and Reformed. The Roman and Protestant Churches in English Protestant Thought 1600-1640 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 263-269. For broader consideration of Anglican-Gallican links, see Peter Doll, Revolution, Religion, and National Identity. Imperial Anglicanism in British North America 1745-1795 (London: Associated University Presses, 2000), 22-29. 22. George Every, S.S.M., The High Church Party 1688-1718 (London: S.P.C.K., 1956), chap. 1, and Owen Chadwick, From Bossuet to Newman. The Idea of Doctrinal Development (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1957), 13-16, 52-60. 23. W.J. Sparrow Simpson, A Study of Bossuet (London: S.P.C.K., 1937), 117-18. See chap. 10, ‘Bossuet and the Church of England’. 24. John McManners, Church and Society in Eighteenth-Century France (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), I, 442. 25. Quoted in Augustus Welby Pugin, A Treatise on Chancel Screens and Rood Lofts. Their Antiquity, Use, and Symbolic Signification (London: Charles Dolman, 1851), 3. Facsimile published at Leominster by Gracewing, 2005. 26. William Beveridge, ‘The Excellence and Usefulness of the Common Prayer: Preached at the Opening of the Parish Church of St Peter’s, Cornhill, the 27th of November 1681’, in The Theological Works of William Beveridge, 12 vols., Library of Anglo-Catholic Theology (Oxford, 1842-46), vol. vi, 388. 27. The most recent biography of Pugin is Rosemary Hill’s God’s Architect. Pugin and the Building of Romantic Britain (London: Allen Lane, 2007). The author who best understands Pugin as a liturgical theorist is Christabel Powell, Augustus Welby Pugin, Designer of the British Houses of Parliament: The Victorian Quest for a Liturgical Architecture (Lampeter: Edwin Mellen Press, 2006). 28. Stephen Dessain, ed. The Letters and Diaries Of John Henry Newman xi, (London: Thomas Nelson, 1961), 249. Newman to W.G. Penny, 24 September 1846. 29. Powell, Pugin, 282. 30. Ibid., 289-90. 31. Frederick William Faber, The Spirit and Genius of St Philip Neri: Founder of the Oratory. Lectures delivered at the Oratory, King William Street, Strand, (London: Burns and Lambert, 1850), 55-56.

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32. Pugin, An Earnest Address on the Establishment of the Hierarchy, (London: Charles Dolman, 1861), 12. 33. Pugin, Screens, 3. 34. Ibid., 75. 35. Ibid., 3. 36. It is worth noting, however, that Pugin’s Sarum spirit survived in parts of the English Catholic Church, particularly among the Benedictines. Anglican converts had a decisive influence on the buildings and worshiop of Downside Abbey. See Michael Hall, ‘Thomas Garner and the Choir of Downside Abbey Church’ and Aidan Bellenger, ‘The Work of Sir Ninian Comper and Frederick Walters’ in Aidan Bellenger, O.S.B., ed. Downside Abbey. An Architectural History (London: Merrell, 2011), 117-176. 37. Nigel Yates, Anglican Ritualism in Victorian Britain 1830-1910 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), ch. 7; Peter F. Aston, Fashions in Church Furnishings (London: Faith Press, 1960), chs. xxix, xxx. 38. Michael Yelton, Anglican Papalism. A History: 1900-1960 (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2005); Anselm Hughes, The Rivers of the Flood (London: Faith Press, 1961). 39. Percy Dearmer was the scholar and theorist of the Prayer Book Catholics, whose work is summed up in the many editions of the best-selling Parson’s Handbook from 1899 to 1960. Donald Gray, Percy Dearmer: A Parson’s Pilgrimage (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2000). 40. A definitive study of Comper is Anthony Symondson and Stephen Bucknall, Sir Ninian Comper (Reading: Spire Books with the Ecclesiological Society, 2006). On St Cyprian’s, 87-97.

ABSTRACTS

In common with other churches of the Protestant and Catholic Reformations, the Church of England identified its own worship with that of the ancient Jewish Temple in Jerusalem and of the early Church. In the aftermath of Queen Mary’s restoration of Catholicism, the Church of England’s liturgical identity was also dominated by a severe Puritan reaction against all Catholic forms. In the last decade of Elizabeth’s reign, however, an ‘avant-garde’ of clergy emerged committed to greater ceremonialism in worship according to the Book of Common Prayer. The Laudian high churchmanship that emerged from this beginning was a movement in tension, looking simultaneously to the Patristic Church, the pre-Reformation Church in England (with a strong strain of ‘gothic survivalism’) and the even more risky world of the continental baroque. From the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries, the Church of England was conscious of affinities with the Gallican, nationalist tradition in the French Church, but at either end of this period the Tridentine baroque would also prove seductively fascinating to many Anglicans. The use of the chancel screen was frequently a touchstone of this debate. While the Gallican tradition was effectively submerged within Roman Catholicism by the French Revolution and the First Vatican Council, the tension between the ‘Gallican’ and ‘Tridentine’ tendencies within Anglican high churchmanship remains alive to this day. In the nineteenth century, influential Anglican converts to the Church of Rome brought with them their contrasting convictions about the appropriate architectural setting for the liturgy. The architect A. W. N. Pugin, firmly committed to liturgical Gallicanism, advocated medieval music, architecture and Sarum ceremonial, while John Henry Newman and his fellow Oratorians insisted

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on an ultramontane liturgy and architecture. Through the creation of the Anglican Ordinariate within the Roman Catholic Church, the Anglican tradition continues to bear witness to the diversity of the Catholic tradition.

Comme les autres Eglises issues des Réformes protestantes et catholiques, l’Eglise d’Angleterre concevait sa liturgie en continuité avec celle du Temple antique de Jérusalem et de l’Eglise primitive. Après l'expérience de restauration par Marie Tudor du catholicisme, l'identité liturgique de l'Eglise d'Angleterre fut dominée par une violente réaction puritaine contre toute forme de pratique qui rappelait le catholicisme. Cependant, dans la dernière décennie du règne d'Elisabeth Ire, apparut une avant-garde cléricale acquise à plus de cérémonial dans le culte célébré selon les rites du Book of Common Prayer. De ces prémices, naquit ensuite la haute Eglise laudienne inspirée, non sans tensions, de l’Eglise des Pères, de l’Eglise médiévale anglaise (avec un goût pour les survivances gothiques) et du baroque continental auquel elle se risquait. Du XVIIe au XIXe siècle, l’Eglise d’Angleterre était très consciente de profondes affinités avec la tradition gallicane et nationale de l’Eglise de France, mais au commencement comme à la fin de cette période, le baroque tridentin a aussi fasciné et séduit maints anglicans. La présence ou non d’un jubé était à l’époque un des enjeux essentiels. Alors que la Révolution française et le premier Concile du Vatican sonnèrent la fin de la tradition gallicane au sein du catholicisme, les tensions entre les tendances « gallicane » et « tridentine » au sein de la haute Eglise anglicane restent vives encore aujourd’hui. Au XIXe siècle, d’influents anglicans, convertis à l’Eglise catholique romaine, y importèrent leurs désaccords sur le cadre architectural le plus approprié pour la liturgie. L’architecte A. W. N. Pugin, défenseur convaincu du gallicanisme liturgique, plaidait pour la musique et l’architecture médiévales ainsi que pour le cérémonial du rite de Salisbury, alors que Newman et ses amis oratoriens insistaient sur une liturgie et architecture ultramontaines. Par le biais de la création des Ordinariats anglicans au sein de l’Eglise catholique romaine, la tradition anglicane continue à porter témoignage de la diversité de la tradition catholique.

INDEX

Mots-clés: liturgie, anglicanisme, gallicanisme, catholicisme tridentin, architecture Keywords: liturgy, Anglicanism, Gallicanism, Tridentine Catholicism, architecture

AUTHOR

PETER M. DOLL

Norwich Cathedral Library

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Book Reviews Comptes-rendus

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Compte-rendu de Justin Gest, The New Minority : White Working Class Politics in an Age of Immigration and Inequality, Oxford University Press, 2016.

Olivier Esteves

RÉFÉRENCE

Justin Gest, The New Minority : White Working Class Politics in an Age of Immigration and Inequality, Oxford University Press, 2016.

1 C’est une dizaine de jours à peine après l’élection de Donald Trump et quatre mois après le Brexit que Justin Gest, spécialiste de sciences politiques à George Mason University (Washington D.C), a publié cet ouvrage comparatiste d’une brûlante actualité, d’une grande érudition, enfin d’une humanité qui pourrait paraître suspecte compte tenu de son objet d’étude : le ressentiment racial et l’anti-autoritarisme des ‘petits blancs’ dans les villes de Youngstown (ville martyre de la désindustrialisation dans l’Ohio) et le bourg londonien de Barking & Dagenham.

2 Au premier abord, cette suspicion peut être attisée par le titre de l’ouvrage, dont l’auteur assure pleinement le caractère problématique : The conceptualization of any group of white people in the United Kingdom or the United States as a ‘minority’ is questionable, to be modest. Less modestly, such a conceptualization stands in the face of 50 years of progress achieved by civil rights struggles, community cohesion agendas, and affirmative action policies. At their inception, such efforts acknowledged –and indeed were mobilized against- the privileged status of white people.

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3 Ensuite, comme Didier Fassin et Daniel Bizeul l’ont déjà fait pour la France 1, Justin Gest conceptualise la difficulté qu’il y a à traiter de groupes sociaux dont les idées peuvent sembler répugnantes aux chercheurs en sciences sociales, chez qui tend à prédominer l’empathie vis-à-vis de groupes stigmatisés. Le défi, selon lui, est le suivant : Scholars and observers of minority politics and social affairs generally maintain a sense of empathy (or at least common understanding) that heightens their sensitivity to subjects’ disadvantage and their perceptions, despite their subjects’ demonstrated flaws. The challenge is to sustain this empathy for the primary antagonist of the minority subjects we are accustomed to examining” (p. 31). 4 L’ouvrage de Justin Gest est le fruit d’un travail ethnographique de trois mois à Barking & Dagenham et de trois mois à Youngstown, soit 120 entretiens au total. Les pages américaines sont aussi riches que les pages britanniques, mais, fort logiquement, je placerai ici la focale sur le terrain londonien de l’auteur.

5 Avec Bexley et Havering, Barking & Dagenham est le bourg londonien qui a voté le plus massivement en faveur du Brexit 2 et, sans jamais mentionner le référendum, M. Gest offre des clés sociologiques, historiques et politiques décisives pour appréhender ce comportement électoral allant à l’encontre d’une capitale anglaise ayant opté sans ambiguïté pour rester dans l’Union Européenne (60%). Il y a d’abord, concrètement, la manière dont le B.N.P., pendant quelques années, a été quasiment la seule offre politique visible dans l’espace public local ; il y a aussi, a contrario, la façon dont le parti travailliste, avec Margaret Hodge, est parvenu à brillamment évincer le B.N.P du paysage politique local en 2010, et le ressentiment que cette prise de pouvoir a pu générer chez de nombreux petits blancs ne se sentant plus représentés. Ceci est d’autant plus vrai que les conseillers municipaux du B.N.P avaient brillé par leur incompétence et leur absentéisme (p. 65) et que ni le député de Barking (Margaret Hodge) ni celui de Dagenham (Jon Cruddas) n’ont élu domicile dans les circonscriptions qu’ils représentent aux Communes, une anomalie plutôt courante outre-Manche et dont l’auteur et ses enquêtés font grand cas (p. 124, p. 199). 6 M. Gest analyse avec finesse les ressorts du protectionnisme social (welfare chauvinism) chez les couches les plus vulnérables de Barking & Dagenham, et son lien avec une nostalgie politique partiellement mythique (p. 52-3, l’idée qu’il faudrait, pour améliorer le quartier, ‘turn the clock back’, ‘make it like 50 years ago’), qui repose elle-même sur la perception d’une méritocratie britannique totalement dévoyée par l’immigration : Most believe that the British social system was previously meritocratic, insofar as hard work was rewarded inside of each hierarchical circle. Respondents frequently cited the hours invested by family members who exerted themselves on assembly lines, docks, and warehouse floors to earn a living. They are frustrated that the current social system grants immigrants access to the same meritocracy and offers advantages that they believe are not provided to white Britons, such as affirmative action policies, public housing preference, and favouritism disguised as antiracism platforms (p. 162). 7 Un constat qui est également dressé à Youngstown, même s’il n’est pas exactement articulé de manière identique.

8 Un des fils conducteurs de l’ouvrage est l’interrogation suivante : pourquoi, pris dans une vulnérabilité et une précarité quasiment identiques, des individus peuvent-ils être tentés par les extrêmes politiques ou, au contraire, céder complètement à l’anomie ? Même si le croisement de méthodes quantitatives et qualitatives peut parfois être difficile à suivre, il reste que le travail de Justin Gest est particulièrement éclairant. On

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pense notamment à cette longue lettre (quatre pages, p. 59-63) envoyée à David Cameron par une administrée lambda (Nancy Pemberton), qui illustre la troublante et apparente porosité des frontières politiques à l’heure où le B.N.P se targue d’être « le parti travailliste de vos grands-parents ». Ou, comme le dit Gest, “One of the more fascinating trends in white working class politics is just how little separates the social and political attitudes of BNP and Labour voters” (p. 63). On pense également à ce long entretien accordé par la députée Margaret Hodge à l’auteur, laquelle est extraordinairement consciente des difficultés insolubles de représentativité que posent à la fois son positionnement politique et son profil sociologique (p. 125-6). 9 D’autres pages sont très éclairantes : les entretiens avec des jeunes émeutiers de l’été 2011 (p. 68-69), l’analyse brillante qui est faite du refrain éculé ‘I’m not racist but…’ (p. 72-3), la description de la fermeture définitive des pubs, ces réceptacles de la mémoire populaire (p. 47-9), c’est-à-dire autant de phénomènes ou d’évolutions qui alimentent la perception, chez les enquêtés, d’être “like a peripheral afterthought in a country they once defined” (p. 200). Empruntant régulièrement à la psychologie sociale, Justin Gest décrit l’aporie culturelle dans laquelle les ‘petits blancs’, agrégats d’individus politiques isolés, se trouvent coincés : To identify a stronger sense of groupness, whites must seek out subcultures related to more distinct identities connected to other social cleavages based on ideology, lifestyle, or sexuality. With fewer resources and their increasing distrust of unions, white working class Americans and Britons actively discard more politically meaningful and more feasible alternatives for group identification. And while middle-class white people can identify with achieved social statuses and therefore invest less in ethnic and racial distinctions, white working-class people cannot (p. 143). 10 Avec quelques mois de recul, il apparaît nettement que les Trump, BNP et UKIP ont su instrumentaliser avec cynisme et talent de telles évolutions et perceptions au sein d’une partie des électorats britannique et américain.

11 Pour conclure, l’ouvrage The New Minority, par la façon dont il croise les méthodologies, par son comparatisme méticuleux, par sa scientificité autant que par son humanité, complète de manière idéale la lecture de monographies déjà publiées, par exemple celles, sur la Grande-Bretagne, de Matthew Goodwin (sur UKIP et le BNP) ou d’Hillary Pilkington et Joel Busher (sur l’EDL) 3. Il peut aussi être mobilisé sans modération par les enseignants en civilisation britannique ou américaine, car sa complexité est largement contrebalancée par un didactisme précieux.

NOTES

1. Daniel Bizeul chez les militants du Front National (voir « Des loyautés incompatibles, aspects moraux d’une immersion au Front National », Revue en ligne SociologieS, 21 juin 2007), Didier Fassin chez les forces de l’ordre, en particulier les agents de la B.A.C en Seine-Saint-Denis (voir La Force de l’ordre : une anthropologie de la police des quartiers, Paris : Seuil, 2011). 2. Les deux autres bourgs hormis ces trois-là sont Sutton (sud de Londres) et Hillingdon (ouest).

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3. Voir par exemple, Matthew Goodwin, Robert Ford Revolt on the Right : Explaining Support for the Radical Right in Britain, Londres : Routledge, 2014 ; Matthew Goodwin, Caitlin Milazzo, , U.K.I.P, Inside the Campaign to Redraw the Map of British Politics, Oxford University Press, 2015 ; Matthew Goodwin, New British Fascism : Rise of the British National Party, Londres : Routledge, 2011 ; Hilary Pilkington, Loud and Proud : Passion and Politics in the English Defence League, Manchester University Press, 2016 ; Joel Busher, The Making of Anti-Muslim Protest : Grassroots Activism in the English Defence League, Londres : Routledge, 2016.

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