Author Archives: Arthur Burns

Information For Academics

CCEd offers academics an important resource of use for research involving the clergy of the Church of England over the period covered by the Database. In what follows we indicate some of the most significant ways in which the Database can be exploited – but we are always happy to hear about others which have not yet occurred to us! Anyone using the CCEd is strongly advised to consult the guidance provided in ‘How to use the database’ before beginning their researches.

Document contents

Researching individuals

There are a few basic points to be aware of concerning the information in the database before you begin searching.

You will find some helpful advice on vital dates and names in particular in our advice to genealogists here.

Researching individuals who were clergymen

At the most basic level, CCEd provides a means of obtaining biographical information on any individual who was a clergyman of the Church of England. For anyone researching a specific individual, there are several key respects in which the database can be especially helpful:

  • If you are researching a relatively obscure figure, whose biographical data are not easily obtainable from another source. The CCEd is particularly useful here for non-graduate clergy not covered in the University alumni volumes. But we also find that in many cases we can correct errors made in such volumes (and Foster’s Alumni Oxoniensis in particular is prone to confusion and omission).
  • For better known figures, however, we are often able to add to the information recorded in alumni volumes or ODNB entries, above all because we record information on the licensing of curates, schoolmasters, and other non-beneficed offices which can be omitted in other accounts of careers, but which may shed vital light on networks etc.
  • We also record information regarding the patronage involved in appointments, which may often differ in particular instances from the ‘standard’ patronage of a specific living (as when an archbishop exercises an option, or a patron is still a minor).

It is also worth noting the CCEd forms part of the Connected Histories project, which enables data-mining across a wide range of early modern datasets at once. We do, however, recommend any such search is preceded by a search within CCEd itself if the person you are investigating is known to be a cleric.

Researching other individuals

CCED has the potential to illuminate the careers of many non-clerics as well. They can be encountered in the database in several forms:

  • As schoolmasters and occasionally as diocesan officials: we have not excluded non-clerical schoolmasters who were licensed by the bishop
  • As patrons of livings
  • As the employers of chaplains
  • As clerics – some individuals aborted clerical careers at an early stage, but not before they had left an archival trace

In all these cases searching is a bit more hit and miss than for clergy, for obvious reasons, and we are often at the mercy of the quality of the information in archives. But we are increasingly able to link chaplains to named individual employers (this has become the norm at the modern end of the CCEd collection) who are effectively ‘locations’ in terms of our structure. At the moment these are best located using the Advanced Search engine, selecting ‘Domestic chaplains’ in the ‘Geographic Diocese’ box and ‘Lay chaplains’ in the ‘CCE region’ box, before entering appropriate free text and wild cards in the ‘Location’ box. This will bring up the career narratives of clergy which include an appointment event fitting these criteria. We hope soon to make the records browsable. To identify patrons, free text searches in the patron box are necessary.   The considerable difficulties which are encountered as a result of the variety of formulations used by those compiling the records make it impossible to link up patrons, so this is an area where it useful to has some information about which livings are involved in order to pin down the actual patronage exercised by individuals.

 Investigating clerical cohorts

The CCEd is also useful for anyone seeking to identify basic information about large numbers of clergy identified by name or office in lists or as a result of research into another topic. A good example is the use Nick Draper made of the Database in identifying clergy who had received compensation payments at the emancipation of slaves in the 1830s for his book The Price of Emancipation.

Investigating the history of the clerical profession

The CCED is obviously a seminal resource for anyone with an interest in this subject, and the work of the project team and others has already begun to reveal its potential in this respect (for publications from the team, see here). It can even help to illuminate periods not covered by the Database, as for example the Interregnum, as Stephen Taylor and Kenneth Fincham have recently demonstrated. The Advanced Search engine can be used to structure quite elaborate queries. The Project Team are also able to assist in ‘behind the scenes’ searches where data not yet fully linked can be observed, and where even more complex queries can be articulated. We therefore welcome enquiries from those with queries which they are not quite sure how to pursue within the Database front-end as publicly available.

The CCEd Website also includes a growing body of information on the jurisdictional context and historical development of the structure of the Church of England in the early modern period which is not readily accessible elsewhere. This is being regularly updated. Users should consult the Reference section.

Collaboration, discussion and dissemination

The new CCEd website greatly increases the potential of the CCEd as a hub for discussion of the history of the clergy of the Church of England. Our online peer-reviewed journal can now offer much faster turn-round times for pieces on the history of the clergy of the Church of England, and we welcome submissions. Shorter pieces and reflections can be accommodated in our Notes and Queries section, and we are keen to commission more reviews on relevant publications for our new Reviews section. Finally, our new Blog facility means we have a platform for more speculative and off-the-cuff reflections or questions which might interest our user community. We positively welcome postings which once moderated can appear there.

As already indicated, the CCEd has enormous untapped potential as it continues to develop for research not only into the Anglican clergy in England and Wales but also overseas, or into themes completely unconnected with the clergy. We are always interested in discussing potential collaborations with others for research projects which might untap some aspect of this potential, so please do not hesitate to contact the project team to see what might be possible. We also are very keen to hear about any research projects making use of the data here, and welcome suggestions about future development, so please keep us informed about how you are using the Database, not least what works well and what doesn’t!

Citing CCEd

For information on how to cite CCEd and its contents, see here.

 

Using the Clergy Database and the Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae, 1541–1857: problems of ‘career modelling’ and some potential solutions

whc7[at]pitt.edu
University of Pittsburgh at Greensburg
150 Finoli Drive
Greensburg
Pennsylvania 15601
USA

Abstract

This paper examines the difficulties inherent in tracing a clergyman in the records of the established church in early modern England. It describes the problems faced by the compilers of the Fasti series and the Clergy Database in determining whether multiple records refer to a single individual or two or more contemporaries sharing the same names, and describes, for the first time, the methodologies followed by Fasti editors. For times when these secondary sources cannot resolve the issue, the researcher is directed to certain classes of primary sources that may do so.

Citation Information

To cite this article:

William H. Campbell, ‘Using the Clergy Database and the Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae, 1541–1857’, CCEd Online Journal 4 (2013). http://www.theclergydatabase.org.uk/cce_a4

 

‘One Mr John Le Neve hath published in Folio a Book called Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae, containing a List of the Bps, Deans, &c. ’Tis of no great note.’

So wrote Thomas Hearne, peerless antiquarian and former Bodleian Librarian, in his journal on 2 October 1716. ((Remarks and collections of Thomas Hearne, ed. C. E. Doble et al. (11 vols, Oxford, 1885–1918), V, 318)) In a later entry, he made it clear that it was the quality of Le Neve’s scholarship, not the idea of his enterprise, that he found objectionable; and while it is true that other works to be published in the next few decades (such as Browne Willis’s Survey of cathedrals) were both intellectually superior and wider in scope, Le Neve seems to have been the first to publish systematic lists of higher clergy other than bishops. ((Remarks and collections, ed. Doble, VI, 64. On Le Neve, Willis and related works, see J.M. Horn, comp., John Le Neve: Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae 1300–1541, Vol. XII: introduction, errata and index (London, 1967), pp. 1–7.)) The difficulties Le Neve faced related as much to his personal circumstances as to his task, but any of the editors who have worked on the most recent edition of the Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae, based at the Institute of Historical Research since 1955, can attest to the inherent difficulties of the work, which themselves pale in comparison to those faced by the directors of the Clergy Database in terms of scale.

When I had the good fortune to become Fasti Research Editor in 2005, with responsibility for the period 1541–1857, a colleague asked why the project should be continued at all since the CCEd would be covering the same ground. In part, this article is an answer to that question, not as an apologia but to acquaint users of the CCEd with a complementary resource with which some may not be familiar. I also aim to explore where they share problems and how the different methodologies of the projects enable them to augment one another. Because of the problems of research, the different media used and the different aims in mind, neither the Fasti nor the CCEd can quite be ‘all things to all men’; but they can be more than the sum of their parts and, as we shall see, users are able to make positive and permanent contributions to each.

The Fasti volumes are both more and less thorough than the CCEd, covering fewer individuals and fewer benefices but in certain ways in greater depth. The focus is on the higher clergy – essentially meaning bishops; the dignitaries, canons and prebendaries of secular cathedrals; the priors of monastic cathedrals before the Reformation; and the archdeacons of the dioceses, who sometimes were accounted as cathedral dignitaries and sometimes were not, according to the ad hoc statutes that varied by cathedral. The endowments and values of the benefices are generally given, though not in the same form, in the 1066–1300 and 1541–1857 parts of the series (1300–1541, being the first undertaken, was less thorough). There is some discussion of the primary sources, the cathedral statutes and the personnel of the chapter, ranging from career patterns to unique institutions, such as the Praelector or Lecturer of Hereford Cathedral. As a general rule, the more recent the volume, the more thorough it has been in this respect.

Methodologically, the greatest difference between the CCEd and the Fasti is that the CCEd’s vast scope makes it possible to use records in their totality, such as every institution in a bishop’s register, with ‘linkage’ – connecting each record to an individual and a place – being done after the data are extracted. By contrast, since the Fasti project is interested only in certain office-holders, records are first skimmed to find all records of institutions and the like to those certain positions. Once fairly complete lists are drawn up, individuals are researched in more detail. This takes the Fasti researcher into records not often used by the Database, particularly parish registers. Many cathedral clergy, especially at the large secular cathedrals with dozens of non-resident prebends of minimal value, lived primarily on their rectories and vicarages elsewhere, where they often died and were buried. Parish registers usually record only the burial date for a layman, but for the parish priest the precise date of death is sometimes given as well, together with notes of other benefices or offices that the individual had held.

The CCEd’s ‘career modelling’ procedure, which enables the reconstruction of an individual’s career from the galaxy of individual acts recorded, is discussed elsewhere on the Database website, and on this I will let the directors speak for themselves. The experience of the Fasti editors over the past fifty and more years suggests that this can be a tricky process, even when undertaken with a careful eye on one individual at a time. For instance, it was possible to determine of the two contemporary archdeacons at Exeter Cathedral, c. 1558, both named John Pollard, which one was also prebendary of Salisbury and which one was prebendary and canon resident of Exeter, but only by repeated reference to the primary sources and my predecessors’ careful notes from researching the Salisbury volume in the series. No doubt they were related, probably as father and son, but this was not possible to determine. The strongest evidence that there were two men at all is the simultaneous holding of incompatible benefices, namely two archdeaconries in the same diocese. Likewise, at Hereford cathedral, John Davis or Davies, prebendary of Bullingham 1711–32, cannot have been John Davies, prebendary of Ewithington 1711–42. ((Hereford Record Office, Hereford diocesan records, MSS AL 19/20, f. 185r, and AL 19/21, f. 12r, respectively.)) To be frank, however, such certainty whether contemporary individuals of the same names were the same person or not is often unattainable. Even the incompatibility rule has its weaknesses. For instance, one would not expect a cathedral prebendary to hold a vicarage choral at the same cathedral at the same time. Taking further examples from Hereford cathedral, Thomas Gwillim resigned his vicarage choral when he accepted the prebend of Piona Parva in 1706; at that time either the positions were considered canonically incompatible or retaining a vicarage choral was thought beneath a prebendary’s dignity. ((Hereford Cathedral Archives, MS 7031/3, p. 566)) When John Woodcock was collated prebendary of Piona Parva in 1767, the chapter demanded that he explain why he would not resign his vicarage choral; his explanation is not preserved, but he did not resign it until 1769, by which time he was also a canon resident. ((Hereford Cathedral Archives, MSS 7031/4 (unpag.), 7031/5, p. 22.)) In 1776, John Stone, custos (head) of the college of vicars choral, was installed prebendary of Eigne without any (recorded) dissent; he remained both custos and prebendary until his death in 1783. ((Hereford RO, MS AL 19/23, f. 12v; Hereford Cathedral Archives, MS 7031/5, p. 144, f. 224v.)) In these instances it was possible to determine that the vicars choral were also prebendaries (and not, equally possible, a succession of prebendaries’ sons bearing the same names as their fathers), but only by detecting the pattern through debates in the chapter act books. And even then uncertainties remain. I have not been able to determine whether Francis Woodcock, prebendary successively of Bullinghope and Moreton Magna at Hereford from the 1780s, was the contemporary vicar choral of those names. ((Hereford Cathedral Archives, MS 7031/5, p. 179, ff. 221v, 275v.))

Occasionally, a record makes it clear that one named person held several named offices, but the existence of these is patchy. For the higher clergy covered by the Fasti, cathedral records such as chapter act books can give answers, but they do not always give them up easily: these were living men known to the chapter clerk, who kept records with the chapter, not later historians, in mind. Unless context made confusion likely, there was no reason for him to differentiate in the text, unless it was to give proper titles to Dr. — and Mr. — or Canon — and Prebendary —. Reconstructing the context to differentiate between the men now might mean reading two hundred folii for clues that might not exist in any case. In the course of Fasti research, problems of identification are most difficult in determining dates of death: was the rector or prebendary in question really the same man as the vicar in a neighbouring diocese who disappears from the records around the same time? Was Henry Welshe, canon resident of Hereford, who died some time before 28 June 1559, really the same Henry Welshe as the prebendary of York Minster who died by 10 April of that year? ((Calendar of patent rolls preserved in the Public Record Office (29 vols, London, 1924–2004), 1558–60, p. 123; Calendar of institutions by the chapter of Canterbury sede vacante, ed. C. E. Woodruff (Kent Records, 8, 1923), p. 58; York, Borthwick Institute, archbishops’ institution act book AB 1, f. 40v.))

Within a diocese, it is often easy to make an identification: if a non-resident prebendary disappears from the record at the same time as a vicar of a local parish in the cathedral’s patronage, common sense suggests that they are the same man, especially if the name is uncommon or the diocese is a small one. At the other extreme is Wales, where fossilized patronymics led to a very small selection of surnames and a correspondingly large number of contemporaries of the same name in the same area, a problem that could even bedevil their own diocesan leadership. When crossing diocesan boundaries, as a general rule, successive Fasti editors have turned to antiquarians: associations can be found in Browne Willis’s Survey of Cathedrals, White Kennett’s manuscripts in the Lansdowne papers at the British Library, and especially the biographical registers of the universities of Oxford and Cambridge by Foster and the Venns, respectively. For Fasti editors to search university records for possible evidence that a certain graduate really did hold particular benefices has been out of the question for reasons of time. The methodologies of career modelling employed by Foster and the Venns remain (to my knowledge) opaque, though it is likely that much of it was inspired guesswork. But no matter how carefully records are checked, many facts were simply never written down. We may never know, for instance, whether I found very few Exeter cathedral clergy buried outside their diocese because the bishops preferred to collate local men to prebends, or because Foster’s career modeling for clergy in Devon and Cornwall was not as thorough as elsewhere, or perhaps even because of some quirk in the records at Exeter College, Oxford, where (predictably) many had studied. ((W. H. Campbell, comp., John Le Neve: Fasti ecclesiae anglicanae 1541―1857, Vol. XII: Exeter diocese (London, 2007).))

Occasionally in the Fasti, as in the case of our John Pollards, a footnote clarifies who was and was not who. A second resource is the index, which in some volumes is the only way to tell what entries the compiler of that volume combined as one man or separated as several. Multiple individuals of the same name are given separate lines in each volume index, and unless they are identified in the original records as junior and senior, they are typically distinguished by the years of their deaths. Currently, there is no certain means for the user to make the same distinction across volumes in the series, but a comprehensive index nominum has been kept as each volume has appeared. It is projected that it will be released, perhaps in electronic form, once the final two volumes of the series have been published.

The CCEd directors have acknowledged the inherent difficulties of career modelling and asked for users’ help in determining individuals’ identities. Except for the most recent volume (Exeter, 1541–1857), the entire Fasti series is freely available on British History Online. ((http://www.british-history.ac.uk/subject.aspx?subject=2 [accessed 13 July 2009].)) This initiative of the Institute of Historical Research offers an optional free registration which will allow users to provide additional information, and further relevant data, qualifications and clarifications are welcomed, particularly those based directly on primary sources. At least some of the corrigenda discovered by Fasti editors over the course of the publication project are to be submitted, though at present there is no timeframe for this part of the project. In sum, however, both the CCEd and Fasti projects have attempted to identify where records refer to one person and where to several, but given the nature of the material, there can be no foolproof system. Users of each would do well to consult both when possible because each bears classes of evidence not used by the other. Clergy call books for archdeacons’ visitations, for instance, have not been consulted by Fasti editors because cathedrals were not under archdeacons’ jurisdictions; but the appearance of a vicar for some years after a prebendary of the same name is known to have died would enable one to distinguish among the clergy involved.

There are original records that are likely to help the perplexed scholar determine an individual’s identity – what positions he did or did not hold. Although there will be a great many records that could potentially resolve difficulties, most are likely to be chance mentions in out-of-the-way places such as diocesan court proceedings. Some classes of records are easier to identify and search, if not on a nationwide basis, then at least for selected individuals, such as the successive incumbents of a particular parish.

The first is wills, for here a clergyman often identified his benefices. If the benefices were in multiple dioceses, and under certain other conditions, the will would have been proved at the Prerogative Court of Canterbury (PCC) and is now accessible at The National Archives and through their website. If the clergyman were beneficed only in one diocese, however, the will would generally be proved in the archdeaconry or diocesan court, and (so far as I can tell) probate in an archidiaconal or diocesan court demonstrates that the cleric was not beneficed outside of that archdeaconry or diocese, respectively. Similarly, some cathedrals had peculiar jurisdictions over which the dean, the chapter collectively or even a single prebendary had archidiaconal jurisdiction and could prove wills; in these cases any surviving probate records may be in the cathedral archives. An important caveat is that a benefice formerly held, but since resigned or ceded, would cease to affect where a will was proved, while the clergyman writing his will years before his decease might mention the benefices he held at the time of writing, not all of which he necessarily held to his death. And further, a cleric might list only his most prestigious benefice, as did Robert Benett, prebendary of Durham, in 1558. ((Wills and inventories … of the northern counties of England, part I, ed. J. Raine (Surtees Society, 2, 1835), p. 172. An editorial footnote adds that he was also vicar of Gainford, though of course the editor’s source and reasoning are not elucidated. Given that the editor is doubtless correct in identifying this Robert Benett with the monk and bursar of Durham of the same name at the time of the dissolution of the cathedral priory, this probably is not Robert Benett (CCEd person ID 39736) ordained subdeacon, deacon and priest in Dec. 1541 on the title of a parish benefice in Peterborough Diocese. According to J. M. Horn et al., comp., Fasti… XI: Carlisle, Chester, Durham, Manchester, Ripon, and Sodor and Man dioceses (2004), p. 108, our will-writing Robert Benett was appointed to the 11th prebend of Durham in the royal foundation charter of May 1541. An obedientiary in a Benedictine cathedral priory was unlikely to be in minor orders; a prebendary was unlikely to be permitted to hold his benefice for six months in minor orders that, in the new dispensation, were no longer recognized as orders at all; and since a cathedral canon was expected to be in major orders, one wonders why the more prestigious prebend was not used as title for orders. By such means may we distinguish one Robert Benett from another. I use this as an example of the challenges facing anyone attempting such distinctions on a small scale, much less a massive one.))

A second source is parish registers. Churchwardens evidently took a certain degree of pride in well-connected clergy; if their rector or vicar were also an archdeacon, prebendary or some other dignitary, they were likely to mention it in the parish register when recording his death and burial. This may also be the case for rank-and-file clergy holding multiple non-cathedral benefices, though in the course of Fasti research I have had no cause to investigate this. Normally, one must successfully find the register of the parish where the cleric was buried to find such an entry, though in some cases a churchwarden considered the death and burial of his vicar or rector elsewhere a fact worth noting in his own parish’s register.

A third and more limited source for the researcher is monumental inscriptions, which likewise tend to trumpet the deceased’s earthly honours. Local histories are invaluable for giving these for clergymen and the local gentry, not only because the researcher need not travel to the church but also because many older memorial monuments have deteriorated, disappeared or been demolished in church rebuilding schemes. (Since clergy were often buried or at least memorialized within the church fabric, their memorials are sometimes paradoxically less likely to survive than others left exposed to the elements.) The Victoria history of the counties of England (VCH) series does not include monumental inscriptions, but many eighteenth- and nineteenth-century county and local histories do; and county historical and genealogical societies often have files of extant memorial inscriptions, searchable for a fee.

A fourth type of source, accessible to the academic historian but less so to the general public, is certain kinds of clergy lists. Those in diocesan archives deposited at county archive offices are easy enough to visit, but documents at the supra-diocesan level, recording clergy beneficed in multiple dioceses, are often kept in more restricted conditions. British Library, Harley MSS 594 and 595 contain returns made by bishops in 1563 and again in the early seventeenth century (some care must be taken to determine which is which, as they are intermingled); in some dioceses the names of incumbents are given, including such details as what other benefices were held by pluralists and on which benefices they actually resided. Better known are the returns made by bishops to Archbishop Matthew Parker c. 1561, now at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, MSS 97 and 122. The returns themselves make some reference to pluralists’ other benefices, and it is to be hoped that the edition, study and database now beginning for the Church of England Record Society will enable further cross-identification from careful study of the internal evidence. (One John Smith, an unlettered and married priest, clearly is not the same as a John Smith reported elsewhere as a university graduate and celibate priest.)

A fifth source, and one that the Fasti and Clergy Database have used, is the state paper and home office warrant books at The National Archives. These include royal warrants for dispensations for individual clergy to hold multiple benefices with cure of souls. In some (but not all) cases they will be specific dispensations, permitting the holding of certain named benefices, such as the dispensation to Arthur D’Anvers to hold the vicarage of Totnes together with the rectory of St Martins, both in Exeter diocese. We can thus be confident that the vicar and the rector who appear in diocesan records were indeed the same man. These ecclesiastical warrants, which include many forms other than dispensation, were also extracted by the editors of the Calendar of state papers (domestic series), exhaustively so far as I can tell. The Calendar begins in the reign of Edward VI and runs through 1706, while the PRO SP 44 and HO 115 sources extracted by the CCEd begin in 1661 and run through 1835, the end of the database’s remit.

Sixth, though not least, diocesan and archidiaconal records such as the Lincoln libri cleri and visitation returns published by Canon Foster were part of the apparatus by which contemporary bishops, archdeacons and their administrations kept track of individuals. Since cathedral clergy were only under archdeacons’ jurisdiction insofar as they held parochial livings, I have had little cause to consult archidiaconal records such as visitation records in my Fasti research and can speak less authoritatively on them than on some other classes of record.

I have devoted most of my attention here to linkage and career modeling because it remains, and seems set to remain, one of the most vexing challenges for both the Fasti and the Database. In retrospect, it is one of the weaknesses of the Fasti in its current version that the question of how the editors confirmed or rejected the identification of one John Smith with another is very seldom addressed in print; I have made a small start on this in my own volumes, but the limitations of time and page space have restricted this to the trickiest cases. In fact, even the massive card file compiled by successive Fasti 1541–1857 editors does not always give the source or reason for a positive correlation made by past editors, though often it can be traced to one of the printed sources that I have described. Even in this exceedingly technical historiography, linkage has proved itself to be less a science than an art, though I hope that in this article I have at least rendered it less of a black art. Users of the CCEd and Fasti who are able to replace ambiguities with positive associations or distinctions, especially when primary sources hold the key, are warmly welcomed to report this further information to both ventures via the channels mentioned above.

William H. Campbell

William H. Campbell is an instructor in History and Religious Studies at the University of Pittsburgh in Greensburg. From 2005 to 2007 he was Research Editor on the Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae project at the Institute of Historical Research, London.

Sussex Clergy Inventories 1600-1750, ed. Annabelle Hughes (2009)

Citation Information

To cite this review: W. M. Jacob, ‘Review: Sussex Clergy Inventories 1600-1750, ed. Annabelle Hughes, Sussex Record Society Vol. 91, 2009.’, CCEd Online Journal Reviews 1, 2013. http://www.theclergydatabase.org.uk/review_one/

Sussex Clergy Inventories 1600-1750, ed. Annabelle Hughes, Sussex Record Society Vol. 91, 2009. ((Copies can be obtained from the Assistant Secretary, Sussex Record Society, Barbican House, High Street, Lewes, BN7 1YE, at a cost of £20 (post and packing extra).))

Clergy are the largest and most distinctive occupational group for whom extensive documentary evidence survives from the Reformation onwards, as The Clergy of the Church of England Database 1540-1835 well illustrates. The Database is enabling clerical careers to be traced in a detail that has never been possible before, so that education, moves, income, pluralism, residence, attendance at episcopal visitations can be traced, and one can begin to build up a picture of the professional lives of individual clergy and groups of clergy.

Diocesan archives also provide opportunities to build up a picture of the personal lives of clergy. Copies of parish terriers list the land [terra = land] with which benefices were endowed, which provides information about land available to an incumbent’s use, and sometimes an account of the parsonage house. Substantial alterations to, or rebuilding a parsonage house, required the consent of the patron and the bishop, and a faculty from the consistory court, which means that sometimes plans and drawings survive, ideally of what the parsonage house and its accompanying buildings were like before the alterations or rebuilding were undertaken, as well as what was proposed, (which, of course may not have been completed, or even started) and information may be included about the costs of the project. This can help to give a sense of the social standing of clergy, especially if information about or studies of buildings in the locality or region has been published, which puts clergy households in context.

Clergy were one of the most literate occupational groups, and significant quantities of archival material beyond episcopal and diocesan records make it possible to begin to flesh out the lives of some clergy, for example diaries and letters may give a limited picture of what they did and thought, and their relationships with family, friends and parishioners. However it needs to be remembered that this may be only a limited picture, for, occasionally when the diary or letters of another member of a family or circle of friends also survives, a rather different picture of a person and his activities may emerge. Some clergy kept account books, which sometimes were restricted to what they received from fees for marriages and burials, and collected in tithes from their parishioners, and spent on cultivating their glebe. All being well they placed these with the parish’s papers, in the parish chest, for the benefit of their successors, so they would know the customary payments of the parish, for sometimes, when a new incumbent arrived, parishioners discovered they had short memories about payments due to him. Account books throw significant light on the sources of income of an incumbent, especially in relation to how many weddings and funerals he conducted, whether he farmed his glebe himself, and the agricultural practices of the parish. Some account books are very full, recording, so far as one can tell, all the household expenditure, as well as income. These are very useful in giving a clearer picture of life in a parsonage house, of the extent to which a household was self supporting, and what had to be bought in, what was given in charity, or as loans, what the major items of expenditure were, what was spent on transport and travel, and about luxuries, including holidays, or their absence. One can see how standards and patterns of consumption changed over time, as someone matured, or became better off. James Woodforde’s diary, which begins as an account book, and in which he continued to record much of his expenditure shows him buying basic furniture for the first parsonage house in which he lived part-time as a curate in the 1760s, and then in the mid 1770s papering the ‘Great Parlour’ and ‘Study’ and buying curtains and carpets and beds for his rectory at Weston Longueville at the considerable cost of £41-19s, and buying from a cabinet maker in Norwich ‘a handsome mahogany wardrobe’, a bureau and bookcase and a sideboard. In the late 1780s he began to upgrade his furniture and bought ‘two large second hand double flapped Mahogany tables, also one second hand Mahogany dressing table with drawers – also one new Mahogany Washing Stand, for all of which I paid £4-14s-6d. I think the whole of it to be very cheap’. Four years later in April 1793 he bought at an auction in Norwich ‘a very handsome Mahogany Sideboard for £3-6s’ and ‘a very good Wilton Carpet paid £6-0-0’ and a cellaret. In December he replaced the tables, recording that he bought ‘new Tables ….secondhand  three in number all of the best Mohogany and new, the middle one is a very large on and very wide, the other two are half round ones to add to the middle Table  – I am to give for them seven guineas [Sudbury, the upholster of Norwich] took my two very large Tables and a smaller one in part exchange for the others, and he is to allow me for the three only £2-18s. He also bought silver cutlery, when he was passing through London on his way back from holidays in Somerset, and in Norwich. (( Diary of a Country Parson: The Revd James Woodforde 1758-1802, ed. James Beresford, 5 vols (Oxford University Press, 1926-31), iii-iv; for a full transcript of the diary see Diary of James Woodforde 1759-1803, 17 vols (Parson Woodforde Society, 1978-2007), vols vii-ix passim.)) Account books and diaries throw considerable light on how local economies worked, in this case the furniture trade, and how a consumer society developed, meeting the needs of customers.

Another major, but little used, source of information about clerical lives and households held in diocesan record offices are probate inventories, which record a person’s possessions at death. Ideally items were recorded room by room, and information about cash in hand and loans and debts was noted at the end. Inventories were required to be prepared to be produced alongside a will, when probate for the administration of a will was applied for from a consistory court.

Sussex Clergy Inventories 1600-1750 is a transcript of 181 surviving probate inventories of clergy from Chichester diocese, comprising East and West Sussex, that Annabelle Hughes has edited with an introduction for the Sussex Record Society. It is helpful to have these in an accessible and legible form, with biographical notes about the various clergy, provided by John Hawkins who was the principal contributor for the Chichester Diocese entries for the Clergy of the Church of England Database, a glossary of archaic words, and a helpful introduction about the production and interpretation of inventories. In addition there is an analysis of rooms in parsonages, noting the deceased’s name, the year, the number of rooms, the parish, listing the rooms, whether there were any books, the valuation of the property, and whether there were any stock or crops. There is also a helpful bibliography, showing this is the first transcript of clerical inventories to be published, two maps showing the parishes represented, a list of inventories noting the deceased’s name, the parish, the year, the value, his title as recorded on the inventory, (ie curate, vicar, minister, parson, rector), and in which court probate was applied for (the consistory court sitting either in the archdeaconry of Chichester, or the archdeaconry of Lewes), and an index of persons and places.

Dr Hughes, is an historian of buildings, who has used Sussex probate inventories  for studying buildings as a social historian. Clerical inventories are particularly interesting for clergy form, as already noted, a cohesive social group, and their parsonage houses are identifiable, if they survive, and also, as we have noted, there may be additional information about the buildings in diocesan archives.

In her introduction Dr Hughes describes the process of securing probate, including the complexities of the peculiar jurisdictions in Sussex, and the Prerogative Court of Canterbury where wealthier people’s wills and the wills of those who held property in more than one diocese were proved. She notes that in Chichester, as in many  dioceses, few probate inventories survive after 1750, and that the survival rate for the period of 1600-1750 from Lewes archdeaconry was poor, only nineteen usable documents, perhaps indicating a ‘clearing out’ of documents at some stage. She also notes that numbers of inventories dropped between 1640 and 1650 perhaps reflecting the turmoil of the Civil Wars.

She notes that inventories normally only record ‘movables’, that is personal property although they may list cash, and debts, bonds, and loans, but do not include real estate, in the form of land, so they may not reflect the true value of a clergyman’s estate, if he owned land in addition to his life-time freehold of the benefice property. Supplementary sources of information are noted, including the diocesan surveys of 1686 and 1724, which provide brief information about parsonage houses (or their absence) and valuations of livings, and the amount of glebe, as well as terriers and faculties. (( Chichester Diocesan Surveys 1686-1724, ed Wyn K.Ford (Sussex Record Society, 78, 1994).)) However, Dr Hughes notes that it has proved difficult to positively identify parsonage houses featured in the 1724 survey and those described in these inventories perhaps, because, as she notes elsewhere, clergy did not always live in their parsonage house, so inventories may list rooms in a house other than the parsonage.

The inventories are put in context by a brief summary of recent studies of religion and society in post-Reformation Sussex, which should have included Jeffrey Chamberlain’s Accommodating High Churchmen. ((Jeffrey S. Chamberlain, Accommodating High Churchmen: The Clergy of Sussex, 1700-1745 (University of Illinois Press, Urbana, 1997).))

There is a helpful discussion of the chronological analysis of names of rooms in inventories. Of the 144 properties for which rooms were mentioned, twenty-five had up to five rooms, seventy-two had between six and ten rooms, thirty-six had between eleven and fifteen rooms, and eleven over fifteen rooms. Many of these rooms, however were work rooms, for example buttery, pantry, milkhouse, brewhouse, bakehouse, wash-house, cheesehouse, as well as ‘entry’ and cellar. These illustrate the complexity of the domestic economy of a parsonage house, and most households in early modern England. Dr Hughes notes the changing names and uses of rooms over the 150 years of these inventories, including the diminishing importance of the ‘hall’ as the main room of the house which served as dining room, reception room, and even bedroom for some of the household, and the increasing mention of ‘parlour’ and ‘pantry’. Until the beginning of the eighteenth century ‘loft’ and ‘garret’ were used almost interchangeably, but ‘loft’ disappeared after 1706. There was a marked increase in mention of ‘cellar’ from the 1690s. These changes probably reflect adaptations of existing buildings, as well as newly built houses and, new fashions in the use of space. However, it should be remembered that inventories only record rooms containing items belonging to the deceased. Empty rooms were not mentioned. Not many of these houses were really palatial in terms of numbers of rooms for sitting and relaxing: of sixty-nine houses between 1619 and 1690 for which ‘parlours’ are noted, only two had two parlours, and of the forty four where ‘parlours are noted between 1691 and 1741 only five had two parlours. Thirty-one in the first period mention studies, and twenty-six during the second period. She notes that ‘chambers’ were usually first-floor rooms, often identified by the ground-floor room below. Fireside implements may indicate there was a hearth in the room, and she refers for comparison to the surviving Hearth Tax returns for 1662. Given the limited literature available on parsonage houses, it would have been helpful to have had a reference to V.M.Chesher, ‘The Parsonage House’ on houses in Cornwall, which suggests there was a significant rebuilding and upgrading of parsonage houses in the early eighteenth century. ((V. M. Chesher, ‘The Parsonage House’, in Calendar of Cornish Glebe Terriers 1673-1735, ed. R. Potts (Devon and Cornwall Record Society, NS, xix, 1974). ))

The typical parsonage house for most of the eighteenth century, usually had one, or possibly two, parlours and a study and kitchen on the ground floor, with dairy, washhouse, brewery, etc in a back extension, and chambers about the parlour(s), study and kitchen, used as bedrooms by the ‘family’ and perhaps over some rooms in the back extension, and perhaps garrets above the chambers for servants. Some houses were much more humble. Apart from provision for a study, parsonage houses were very like farm houses and small gentry houses. Only from the 1770s were parsonage houses significantly extended or rebuilt. Many ‘Georgian’ parsonage houses date from the 1840s.

It would have been interesting if Dr Hughes, with her extensive knowledge of the building history of Sussex had compared parsonage houses, or at least houses occupied by clergy, with houses occupied by small to medium sized farmers, and minor gentry, or better-off tradesmen and merchants in market towns, with whom it seems likely clergy can be compared in terms of their levels of income and possessions. It is also a pity that the farm buildings and barns associated with parsonages or houses occupied by clergy, which presumably were included in the inventories as containing crops and implements and livestock, were not also listed, which would have helped to relate clergy to other socio-economic groups, and indicated to what extent the complex of parsonage buildings resembled farm complexes.

Dr Hughes notes that before 1680 fifty-four out of ninety-one inventories (over a half) record livestock and crops, but after 1680 only twenty-nine out of eighty-two (just over a third) do so, and speculates whether the time of year when the inventory was taken influenced whether these items were recorded, or whether clergy increasingly leased out their glebes after the 1680s. If there was a decline among Sussex clergy in cultivating their glebe from the 1680s, this did not happen in Norfolk, in sixty-one inventories of clerical goods among the Diocesan Registry’s surviving probate inventories between 1700 and 1739 forty-four record agricultural equipment and stock and crops, often on a large scale, ((Norfolk Record Office, Norwich Archdeaconry Inventories: NRO, NDR ANW23 Norfolk Archdeaconry Inventories ANF11; Norwich Diocesan Registry Probate Inventories, NRO, NDR INV68-80.)) and there is much evidence that some Norfolk clergy at the end of the eighteenth century continued to cultivate their glebe and keep livestock, not least James Woodforde, but others on a much larger scale. (( W .M. Jacob, The Clerical Profession in the Long Eighteenth Century, 1680-1840 (Oxford, 2007), pp 144-147.))

The inventories of the vast majority of Sussex clergy record books, which is likely to  be the most marked distinction factor between clergy and similar socio-economic groups, like small and medium sized farmers. Dr Hughes emphasises that the valuation placed on books should be treated with care, for laymen who made the inventories, may have had little idea of the value of books. The few instances when books are itemised, or summarised, suggest that some clergy had wide interests: Robert Waters of Shipley, who died in 1617 had ‘Divers books of divinity and physicke and surgery’, and Samuel Fowler of Earnley, who died in 1669 had ‘ a Parsell of books as dixenaries sermon books mathematickes Arethmaticke some Latin for Prayers some for Gardening some Geographie some manuscripts some Playe books some old some young’ valued altogether at 15 shillings. Seventy-two inventories note a ‘study’ and four a ‘library’  In Norfolk although nine of the sixty-one inventories do not mention any books, in some inventories books form a significant proportion of the total value of the goods listed, for example John Echard of Ashwellthorpe’s books were valued at £20, out of a total valuation of his goods of £23-13s-1 1/2d. There seems little correlation between the value of a clergyman’s goods and the value of his books; John Jessop of Raveningham in Norfolk who died in 1719 had an inventory valued at £1,604 – 15s – 4d, of which £1,428 – 4s – 10d was in ‘Bills, Bonds and other Securities’, but he only had ‘A parcel of old Books’ valued at £2. (( NRO, NDR INV74/A148 and INV79/E37.))

Dr Hughes in her analysis of the inventories by house sizes (by room and function) and relative valuations, concludes that the clergy included the very poor and the relatively wealthy. It would have been interesting if she had drawn on her wide knowledge of Sussex inventories to set the valuation of goods in clerical inventories alongside, for comparison, inventories of a range of farmers and minor county and urban gentry to show where, socio-economically, clergy fitted in Sussex society. In concluding her introduction she helpfully suggests further matters for investigation, including comparative values of livings and how these might reflect the living standards of the clergy shown by their dwellings and possessions, the value and extent of glebe land and changes over the period, variations in the numbers and values of books owned, and how these may have reflect the quality and ‘colour’ of clerical ministry.

When the total values of the personal estates of the clergy are analysed the enormous range of society that clergy ranged across, becomes clear, from the rather poor, to the rich, with a high proportion in the range of £100 to £300, which, discounting their real estate, would have put them in terms of personal possessions, in the range of modest county gentry

Total values of goods valued in probate inventories in the Diocese of Chichester

-£5 £5-£10 £11-£20 £21-£50 £50-£75 £76-£100 £101-£200 £201-£300 £301-£500 £501-£1,000 £1,000+
1613-1690 3 3 7 14 12 15 33 15 9 4 2
1691-1741 3 12 7 3 12 4 5 6 4

However, it should be remembered this is a random selection of the clergy in Chichester diocese during the period, and that a significant proportion of clergy, who left possessions worth less than £50 may be missing from the sample.

David Hey suggested that though the income and value of the possessions of clergy may be somewhat similar to small to medium sized farmers in the villages they served, their inventories reflect a more cultivated taste and greater refinement of social standards than the inventories of most farmers. ((David G.Hey, An English Rural Community: Myddle under the Tudors and Stuarts, (Leicester University Press, 1974), p. 126. )) This may reflect the fact that many clergy were Oxford or Cambridge-educated sons of prosperous urban professional men and tradesmen who might be expected to have more sophisticated tastes than their village neighbours This may perhaps be seen in these Sussex inventories: forty-eight of the sample between 1613 and 1690 and thirty between 1691 and 1741 owned some silver ware, twenty-five in the earlier period, and twenty-three in the later period had looking glasses, including John Prosser of Winchilsea, who died in 1723 who was recorded as having a ‘glass’ in every chamber, the same number possessed clocks or watches, one in the earlier period had a coffee pot, while eleven in the later period had a coffee pot or tea kettle, or rather nine, for Charles Spencer of Westbourne, who died in 1705 had three ‘coffey pots’ in the kitchen, as well as a modish ‘Wallnutt Tree Table’, nineteen in the earlier period had desks, and six in the later period, nine in each period owned pictures, and four in the later period owned ‘weather glasses’. Nearly all houses had large quantities of linen, and all had feather beds; cushions and window curtains feature quite often; nearly all have considerable quantities of pewter, as opposed to wooden vessels, including chamber pots; quite a lot have ‘close stools’, a mark of gentility. Thomas Pelling of Rottingdean, who died in 1732 had a particularly well-equipped ‘studdy’ including ‘About 800 books, a pair of globes, i table, 2 Ring Dyalls, 1Telescope, I Speaking Trumpet’, but his goods were valued in total at £1,065 -13s-6d.

Some clergy had money owing to them: fourteen who died between 1613 and 1690, and eight between 1691 and 1741, and in the earlier period fourteen also had tithe owing to them, while only eight in the later period had tithe owing to them. Twenty in the earlier period had money laid out in bonds, securities and mortgages, and seventeen in the later period. Only three died in debt in the earlier period, and one in the later period.

In the period 1613-1690 twenty-two inventories noted a gun, pistols or a musket, and seven between 1691 and 1741. This may represent the need for arms for protection of oneself and family during the troubled days of the civil wars, and possibly the continuing threat of invasion from the Channel during the first half of the eighteenth century

A significant number of women – wives, daughters and sisters – feature as executors of these wills: sixty during the earlier period from 1613 to 1690 and thirty-five between 1691 and 1741. This total of ninety-five out of 185 wills suggests that clergy had a high level of confidence in their womenfolk’s capacity to manage their affairs. However, it may hint at the personal tragedies the deaths recorded in these wills brought upon clergy families. Clergy only had a freehold for life in their parsonage and glebe land. The moment they died their interest in it ceased, and the income passed to sequestrators, and they were under notice to quit the parsonage. Widows with children, sisters, daughters, households were cast adrift. Nancy Woodforde, having been her uncle’s companion for twenty-three years, at the age of forty-six had to leave her home and friends, see everything sold up, and go to live with her relations in far way Somerset. The invalid Elizabeth Postlethwaite, who had grown up at Denton rectory in Norfolk where her father had been rector, and was succeeded by her brother, when he was tragically killed in a riding accident, intestate, and subsequently suspected of being deeply in debt, described in letters to her sister the arrival of the appraisers to list her brother’s personal effects, within a fortnight of his death, and the break up of her home, and the few things that she takes – the bed in the hall chamber, and the easy chair, for the room she has rented in Norwich, and the disposal of small domestic items, including one of the maids taking the linen lines for herself, for hers were rotten. She reports looking after herself for the first time in her life, and the anxieties she experienced when more and more debts of her brother’s came to light. ((See ‘Your affectionate and loving sister’: the correspondence of Barbara Kerrich and Elizabeth Postlethwaite 1733-1751, ed. Nigel Surry (The Larks Press, Guist Bottom, Dereham, Norfolk, 2000).)) William Jones, the curate of Broxbourne in Hertfordshire commented on the sad fate of the widow and daughters of the rector of Wormley, in which parish he was himself very interested.

His poor wife and three unestablished daughters (the youngest of them not very young) are, I fear, left in distressed circumstances. How must their hearts droop at exchanging their present convenient, beautiful home for a cottage. A rectory or a vicarage is but a caravanserai; for it frequently changes its inmates. (( The Diary of the Revd William Jones 1771-1821, ed. O. F. Christie (London, 1929), p. 106.))

Perhaps this was why clergy sometimes lived in houses other than their parsonage house. At least their families would be left with a roof over their heads, and would not immediately have to dispose of most of their possessions.

W. M. Jacob

Dr Jacob is archdeacon of Charing Cross in the Anglican Diocese of London. He is the author of many works on the history of the Church of England, notably in the eighteenth century, including The Clerical Profession in the Long Eighteenth Century 1680-1840 (Oxford University Press, 2007)

Information For General Public

Essential information for first-time visitors to the CCEd site.

 

Document Contents

 

 

Introduction

Why should I be interested in the clergy of the Church of England? Well, the fact that you are reading this indicates that something in which you are already interested has led you to this site! And whatever that is, it is probably not unconnected with the fact that for many centuries, including those covered in this resource from 1540 to 1835, the clergy were probably the most important profession in England and Wales. Doctors and lawyers there were, but far from evenly distributed. In contrast, there were clergy associated with the all the churches in the parishes which in theory at least provided for the whole population, not to mention those who in the cathedrals provided a significant element in the elite population of urban centres. As far as there was a teaching profession, it was often clergymen who constituted it (and in our period, even those who were not clergy still had to obtain a licence to practice from the bishop, which means that many of those who were not clergy are nevertheless to be found in our database, including some women).

How many clergy were there in total at any one time? Well, in truth no one quite knows, and one hope of the directors of the database is that at some point they will be able the use the database to offer a more accurate estimate than has hitherto been possible. Our suspicion is that the number is probably rather smaller than sometimes thought, at least for the later periods covered by the resource. It was nevertheless a significant number of several thousand (between ten and fifteen thousand?) in whose ranks could be found not only important religious figures, but also many of the key individuals in a whole range of fields of activity: authors (such as Laurence Sterne, John Henry Newman), philosophers (Bishop Berkeley, William Paley), scientists (Adam Sedgwick, William Buckland), poets (John Donne, George Herbert, George Crabbe), educationalists (Thomas Arnold) and political scientists (Thomas Malthus, J. B. Sumner), to mention just a few. Just as interesting, however, are all the innumerable less famous clergy who were often figures of considerable local importance as philanthropists, squires, educators, counselors, historians, antiquarians, and even just ‘characters’. Wherever you live in England and Wales, the clergy of the parish are likely to have left an enduring mark; at the very least, their memorials and gravestones are likely to be a prominent feature of the east end of the parish church (unless later clergy ‘restored’ them away!). You may therefore come to the database in pursuit of a particular, possibly very well-known clergyman; or you may simply be interested to discover which clergymen have been associated with a place where you live or in which you have an interest of a different kind. You may even be in pursuit of a clerical ancestor (in which case, you should also read our introduction for genealogists.) Whichever of these descriptions applies to you – you have come to the right place!

The CCEd is probably the most useful resource there is for anyone interested in people who were (or might have been) clergymen in the period covered by the database (1540-1835). Through the database you will be able to discover those places where they may have served, as well as the names of the patrons who may have helped advance their career, and of the bishop(s) who ordained them. The records may also reveal details of their educational career, their date and place of birth and/or baptism, and we may also have some indication of the date of death and in a few cases a record of burial. If you are unfamiliar with the pattern of a clerical career, help is at hand in our glossary, which offers helpful definitions of key terms through hyperlinks.

There are a few basic points to be aware of concerning the information in the database before you begin searching (and we would always recommend that users consult the guidance provided in ‘How to use the database’ before beginning their researches).

  • The Database only covers clergymen of the Church of England: those of other denominations will not be present. So if your interest is Roman Catholic clergy, or those associated with the wide variety of protestant denominations which separated themselves from the national church after the Reformation (too many to name, but including Baptists, Congregationalists, Independents, Methodists, Presbyterians and Unitarians) you will need to look elsewhere.
  • As long as some part of the career of a clergyman falls within the date range covered in the Database, he will be present: but those records relating to events outside the range will not be present.
  • The Database is a record of clerical career events, and does not set out to include vital dates or other information unless it is easily recovered from the records relating to these events.
  • Therefore the date range associated with a name in CCEd is not intended as a lifespan, but records the years for which we have records associated with that person.
  • It is quite possible that records associated with an individual may be divided between several CCEd persons whom we cannot as yet confidently pronounce to be one and the same person; they may also have been incorrectly attached to the wrong person who shares your person’s name.

Looking for an individual

There are two main ways of looking for information on the clerical career of a specific individual. You can either enter the name in the Search Engine, or you can browse through names of clergymen identified in the database using ‘Browse Persons’. The latter approach will of course present you with a vast number of similar names (especially if you are unfortunate enough to be looking for someone called something like John Smith!), but will make it easier to get of sense of where you might look if you don’t initially succeed (for example, depending on how they were recorded at the time, when spelling and other practices were much less standardized than they are today – and handwriting often terrifyingly difficult to read!) records associated with John Smith may appear under ‘J. Smith’, or John Smith/Smyth/Smithe/Smythe etc.) Using the search engine is most useful where you have some other information which may help you identify the relevant set of records, such as a place with which they were associated, or a date at which they were appointed or died. We have given details of how to use the search engine for these purposes and some things to watch out for both in searching and interpreting results in our advice to genealogists, which you can find here: ‘Information for Genealogists’; see also  ‘How to use the database’.

Looking for information on clergy associated with a particular place or post.

There are several thousand parishes in England and Wales. Each will have a parish church, but many historically also had chapels linked to the parish church and served by the same clergy, or with designated curates responsible for them. Over time parishes have merged, split, generated daughter parishes and been reassigned from the oversight of one bishop to another; their names have changed (or in some cases they may have had more than one name at the same time!), and in some cases more than one parish shares the same name. And clergy are not just associated with parish churches and chapels: they sometimes have posts associated with gaols, schools, workhouses, hospitals, ships and overseas postings. There are cathedrals, and there were collegiate churches, with sometimes large clerical communities associated with them. And some clerical posts are attached to people rather than places, such as the domestic chaplains of the nobility and bishops, or royal chaplains.

This makes looking for information on places complicated enough, but matters are made worse by the fact that before the mid-nineteenth century the organization of the Church of England can look pretty irrational: rather than the neat map of regional dioceses we are used to today, jurisdiction was often parceled out in small pockets which were scattered across what were in any case pretty illogical arrangements. Thus, for example, the diocese of Bristol consisted of the city and the county of Dorset, which was separated from the see city by the diocese of Salisbury; a map of the diocese of Lichfield and Coventry looks as if someone has sneezed all over it, so pockmarked is it with little bits of jurisdiction belonging to the crown, other ecclesiastical authorities and exempt from the oversight of the bishop on at least some matters (see the map here).

So, how do you know where to look for information on a particular parish? You can just look in our cumulative lists of locations, available here. Probably the easiest way is if you know the county in which the parish was historically situated (that is, the pre-1974 counties of England and Wales). We have listed all the locations in the database under the counties in which they were situated here. Makes allowances for variations in spelling or consider whether the parish might formerly have been a chapelry in another parish (in which case it may appear under the name of another parish (A browser ‘search within’ facility may help you find such an instance; we also have a list of chapelries here). Alternatively, you may know which diocese the parish was in, in which case you can use the diocesan lists here; these are organized to contain all the parishes that fall within the overall boundaries of the diocese, regardless of who actually had authority over them; by clicking on the ‘jurisdiction lists’ here you get lists containing only parishes under the authority of the bishop (and which may thus include some parishes outside the main boundaries, as well as excluding some within them). In each case, clicking on the name of the parish will bring up a list giving not only the name of the parish and any alternative names of which we are aware, but also its jurisdictional setting and the list of all the clerical records we have gathered and linked associated with that location.

From here you can click through to the records, or the career profiles (‘career narratives’) associated with the clergy who are recorded in association with the parish or chapel. One great advantage of the CCEd over parish noticeboards of vicars or rectors is that we also link in schoolmasters and curates – you may well discover someone quite famous linked with a church who is not visible on such lists. You will also discover who was responsible for appointing the clergy – and it was not always the ‘official’ patron, since special circumstances might mean that on a particular occasion someone else made the nomination.

There are other ways of getting to this information from within the Database, and for more advice we strongly recommend consulting How to use the database before you start extensive searching. This will also advise you on how to look for clergy associated with gaols, schools and other such institutions (those these are also listed in the lists described above) using the Locations Index.

 

Exploring the Database

Of course, you may come to the database not in search of specific information, but simply to find out more about the clergy of the Church of England at some point in the past. The database has the capacity to shed light on a wide range of questions about the clergy, such as the pattern of career paths, educational background, incomes, the nature of the patronage from which clergy benefited, migration and familial networks. The best way to explore such questions is to take advantage of the Advanced Search Engine, which allows you to formulate structured queries, described here. Let us know if you find anything interesting or unexpected – these are the kind of questions the Project team themselves are keenly interested in, and it could become the basis of a blog, a contribution to CCEd Notes and Queries, or even a full article in the CCEd journal!

It is also worth exploring the Reference and other sections of the website, which contain a wealth of useful information for anyone interested in the History of the Church of England, not always easily available elsewhere, and which is being added to regularly. The Journal contains a number of interesting articles on key aspects of the material in the Database, and the team also intends to post on the blog when suitable ideas occur to them! And why not come and hear a member of the team talk at a venue near you? Such occasions are advertised in our Events section, and we are also open to invitations to deliver talks.

 

Questions and Answers

L. P. Hartley famously wrote in his novel The Go-Between that ‘The Past is a foreign country: they do things differently there’. As churchgoing declines, and the churches themselves change their practices, structure and geography, this is nowhere more true than of the clergy of the Church of England. Hardly surprisingly, visitors to this site can often feel at sea as they try to make sense of the records the Database reveals. Don’t worry: help is at hand! We hope in the future to add significant new material to the Database website to help people make sense of their findings. In the meantime, however, as well as much useful guidance in our How to use the database, Reference and About the Database sections of the website, you can also consult Peter Towey’s My Ancestor was an Anglican Clergyman (London: Society of Genealogists Enterprises Ltd, 2006).  Many users, however, contact the Database team for advice on particular issues or problems, and wherever possible we try to respond to such enquiries. In the new version of the website, our blogging facility means for the first time that we will be able to post our responses in a form where they will be accessible to other users with similar questions. So it will be worth checking the blog as it gradually expands; and of course, it may be that the question that is bothering you is one that would be ideally suited to an airing there! See the project’s contact details on how to get in touch.

 

Can you tell us something we need to know?

As already indicated, the team is always keen to hear from users of the Database. Sometimes they contact us to correct mistakes, to confirm identifications or suggest mergers where they know two sets of records belong to one person (or a split where they know the opposite). Sometimes they know interesting additional information about individual clerics which we can add to notes about them; sometimes they would like additional information or have some more general observations about the Database. The new blogging facilities mean that in some cases such a communication could become the basis of a blog entry rather than simply being entered in the database. The CCEd is a continuously evolving resource partly as a result of such information, so we rely on you! See the project’s contact details on how to get in touch.

 

 

Information For Genealogists

Essential information for genealogists using the CCEd resource

Document Contents

 

Introduction

The CCEd is an extremely useful resource for anyone researching ancestors that they believe were clergymen in the period covered by the database (1540-1835). Even if all you know is the name (or indeed surname) you will be able to gain access to records which might relate to the person you are looking for, and through the database discover those places where they may have served, as well as the names of the patrons who may have helped advance their career, and of the bishop(s) who ordained them. The records may also reveal details of their educational career, their date and place of birth and/or baptism, and we may also have some indication of the date of death and in a few cases a record of burial.

There are a few basic points to be aware of concerning the information in the database before you begin searching (and we would always recommend that users consult the guidance provided in ‘How to use the database’ before beginning their researches).

  • The Database only covers clergymen of the Church of England: those of other denominations will not be present.
  • As long as some part of the career of a clergyman falls within the date range covered in the Database, he will be present: but those records relating to events outside the range will not be present.
  • The Database is a record of clerical career events, and does not set out to include vital dates or other information unless it is easily recovered from the records relating to these events.
  • Therefore the date range associated with a name in CCEd is not intended as a lifespan, but records the years for which we have records associated with that person.
  • It is quite possible that records associated with an individual may be divided between several CCEd persons whom we cannot as yet confidently pronounce to be one and the same person; they may also have been incorrectly attached to the wrong person who shares your person’s name.

Vital dates in the CCEd

As we have indicated, the CCEd may be able to help you establish the vital dates of the person you are interested in, but it is important to be aware of its limitations in this respect. Where we have a date of birth or of baptism (the latter is more common), this will probably be accurate, as it will be drawn mostly from ordination records, recording an occasion when the candidate for orders had to establish that they were of the age required before these could be conferred. Sometimes these records will simply record how old a candidate for orders was, and in these cases we may have offered an estimated year of birth (but not day or month).

The case of dates of death is more complicated. In a relatively small number of cases we have a date of death recorded on a gravestone or in other records, but in many cases the date offered in Death events is derived from a record of a vacancy for a living the person held in which the reason for the vacancy was specified as ‘death’. In these cases, the date is the date of the next appointment to the living, not that of the vacancy itself, and can consequently record an occasion perhaps several months or even longer after the vacancy occurred. Where several such records are associated with a person, the career modelling process selects the earliest, but this may still represent a date some time removed from the actual date of death.   Users should therefore beware of citing the date given in Death events as a date of death before checking the evidence from which it derives concerning the nature of the source. The codes for certainty and date visible once you have the mouse hovering over the date in question can give you a good indication of its reliability – for more on the codes see ‘Interpreting Career Narratives.’

As already noted, the date ranges associated with names in the CCEd are not vital dates, but record the years for which records are available for that person.

You may well already have more accurate vital dates than we do for your individual. If you do, please let us know (and the nature of the evidence for them), and we will try to incorporate them into the database.

Split personalities, multiple personalities!

It is important to remember that the team behind the database are responsible for linking records to the personified individuals in the database, and in doing this rely chiefly on internal evidence, external sources such as Venn and Foster’s accounts of Oxford and Cambridge alumni, and strong but circumstantial evidence. As work proceeds, we find it easier and easier to make connections between the records we have recovered, but when it comes to common names, such as ‘John Smith’, it is inevitably very difficult to be confident in assigning records to specific individuals. Variations in spelling, changes of name and the occasional transcription error either in the source or by our researchers only serve to complicate matters still further. In researching your ancestor, you should therefore be alert to the possibility that their career may be recorded under more than personification in the database, so you may want to look at people with the same or similar names at roughly the same date in the database. Conversely, especially where fathers and sons share a name, we may inadvertently have ‘crushed’ two individuals into one.

Genealogical researchers, of course, may well be in a position to identify where such mistakes have been made from the sources that they have access to that the database team do not, such as family papers, wills, local history sources and correspondence etc (they can also sometimes identify cases where a record has been linked to the wrong parish). We regularly hear from researchers who are able to suggest corrections to the database, and we are enormously grateful to those who take the trouble to help us improve the resource in this way. If you do find a mistake, please contact us and tell us; please also tell us why you think there is a mistake and the evidence for it. We will then amend the database at the next upgrade, and credit you with the help.

Scenes from clerical life

Genealogists and family historians sometimes assume that the life stories they uncover are of very limited interest outside their immediate family. Often, however, the detailed research and access to family papers and possessions give family historians a considerable advantage in uncovering in fascinating detail the experiences of people in the past, and such information can be invaluable not only to fellow genealogists but also to professional historians who might otherwise never encounter the material genealogists have brought to light. A good example of this is the story of Sarah Reveley’s ancestor Samuel, retold in our Notes and Queries of the CCEd journal. Sarah contacted us when she was researching Samuel’s story through the database, and was able to add to the barebones of his career this revealed the fascinating background her other sources enabled her to put together. Working with us she wrote this up for Notes and Queries, and her fascinating article is the result. On another occasion, RIchard Palmer was inspired by his research on James Mayne for Patsy Kensit’s Who Do You Think You Are? to offer us an account of James’ equally fascinating career. If you have a similarly interesting story to tell, or even just wonder whether it might be interesting, why not let us know? We would love to be able to post other such accounts of the detail of clerical life in the Notes and Queries pages.

Questions and Answers

L. P. Hartley famously wrote in his novel The Go-Between that ‘The Past is a foreign country: they do things differently there’. As churchgoing declines, and the churches themselves change their practices, structure and geography, this is nowhere more true than of the clergy of the Church of England. Hardly surprisingly, family historians can often feel at sea as they try to make sense of the records the Database reveals in connection with their ancestor. Don’t worry: help is at hand! We hope in the future to add significant new material to the Database website to help people make sense of their findings. In the meantime, however, as well as much useful guidance in our How to use the database, Reference and About the Database sections of the website, you can also consult Peter Towey’s My Ancestor was an Anglican Clergyman (London: Society of Genealogists Enterprises Ltd, 2006).  Many users, however, contact the Database team for advice on particular issues or problems, and wherever possible we try to respond to such enquiries. In the new version of the website, our blogging facility means for the first time that we will be able to post our responses in a form where they will be accessible to other users with similar questions. So it will be worth checking the blog as it gradually expands; and of course, it may be that the question that is bothering you is one that would be ideally suited to an airing there! See the project’s contact details on how to get in touch.

Information For Archivists

The CCEd is a very valuable resource for the archives community and its user constituencies. Drawing together as it does resources collected in over fifty repositories, using collectors with appropriate palaeographic and subject skills, it opens up holdings to many non-specialist users such as family historians who would otherwise struggle to interpret the evidence

We hope that CCEd will be a very useful tool for archivists running local or national collections in a number of different ways.  It should help with public enquiries from genealogists, local historians or academics relating to the clergy of the Church of England across our three centuries, 1540 to 1835, and, we hope, become a first port-of-call since CCEd contains not just a relational database but also a website with essential information about the structure of the Church including its complex types of location, the stages of the clerical career, glossaries of terms, lists of bishops, dioceses and parishes, and, for each diocese, we have begun providing maps and manuscript and printed sources.   One of the novelties of the database is the attempt to reconstruct names and careers not just of incumbents, but also of curates, lecturers, chaplains to gaols, hospitals and workhouses, clerical schoolmasters, personal domestic chaplains and clergy working overseas, all of whom are often overlooked in existing sources.  While clergymen predominant, the database also includes vital evidence about the exercise of ecclesiastical patronage, by the crown, institutions and individuals, including female patrons, and much information about school-teachers and schools.

As we remind our users, CCEd does not contain all ecclesiastical records relating to the clergy between 1540 and 1835.  In order to capture the key events of clerical careers, we have tried to record all ordinations and appointments using episcopal act books, subscription books  and visitation records from diocesan collections.  However, in most dioceses we have only sampled visitation records unless very few survive; nor have we made much use of Bishops Transcripts and wills, and we have not touched parochial records.  Nor have we been able to use the major archidiaconal collections relating to Leicester, St Albans, Richmond and elsewhere.  Our core evidence is drawn from about 50 diocesan and cathedral archives, supplemented by national records since as E179, records of clerical taxation in the National Archives,  or the Elizabethan surveys of the ministry.  A great advantage of our national coverage is that we have been able to reunite records now in separate repositories (records relating to the diocese of Cheshire, for example, are in Cheshire RO, Lancashire RO and West Yorkshire Archive Service).  Often we have picked up evidence in one diocese relating to activity in another, where the original record is lost; exhibit books, for example, contain details of ordinations occuring in other dioceses for which few ordination registers survive.  Moreover national records often plugs gaps in diocesan collections.

We also hope that the Database will assist cataloguing of other records. At Wiltshire and Swindon Record Office, archivists report that ‘We have three boxes of fragments of c200 unidentified bishop’s transcripts, mainly from the 17th to early 18th centuries for parishes in Wiltshire, but also Dorset and Berkshire. Identification of those signed by incumbents should be possible by using CCEd.’

CCEd will eventually contain a full listing of all sources used, from central and local archives, which we hope to be of assistance to archivists and their users.  It should demonstrate the distinctive strengths, and in some cases limitations, of any one surviving diocesan collection compared to others across the country.

The CCEd team is conscious that many more records can be incorporated into the database, and would welcome suggestions or even offers of help from archivists and their users.   We would also be grateful to hear of any new acquisitions or documents which come to light relating to the clergy in this period.  Please contact CCEd’s Research Officer, Mary Clayton, at m.e.clayton[at]durham.ac.uk.

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James Mayne [cce-id 70753], curate of Bethnal Green

Richard Palmer
richard.palmer[at]c-of-e.org.uk
Librarian and Archivist
Lambeth Palace Library
London SE1 7JU

Abstract

The story of James Mayne, curate of Bethnal Green between 1823 and 1842, has been highlighted by Patsy Kensit in the BBC1 programme Who Do You Think You Are? It provides a fascinating insight into the problems posed for the Church of England in the East End of London by rapidly expanding population and the consequent social problems in the first half of the nineteenth century. Mayne was also a literate, one of the non-University educated clergy, and he provides an example of the careers of a group of clergy often neglected in the history of the Church.

Citation Information
To cite this article:
Richard Palmer, ‘ James Mayne [cce-id 70753], curate of Bethnal Green’, CCEd Online Journal N&Q 2, 2008.
<http://www.the clergydatabase.org.uk/cce_n2.html>

Article

Genealogy sometimes throws a spotlight on obscure individuals who do not feature in the history books but whose lives exemplify important aspects of society which might otherwise go unrecorded. So it is with James Mayne (d. 1851) whose remarkable story was investigated by his descendant Patsy Kensit with the help of the team responsible for Who Do You Think You Are?, in the programme first broadcast on BBC1 on 13 August 2008.

James Mayne was one of the humbler ministers of the Church of England. He never rose to high office, nor did he leave any printed work. He lived at a time when most Anglican clergy were educated at Oxford or Cambridge and were part of a well-defined social élite. Yet Mayne himself did not attend university and, until Archbishop William Howley stepped in, he held no degree. Accordingly, for most of his career, he formed part of a non-graduate minority within the clergy, an underclass known somewhat derisively as ‘literates’, who could rarely aspire to the more lucrative livings – if they aspired to a living at all – and who frequently carried the most unenviable workloads. For nineteen years, from 1823 to 1842, Mayne was the stipendiary curate of St Matthew, Bethnal Green, one of the largest and most socially deprived parishes in England. There, as the resident minister in place of the absentee rector of the parish, he experienced the horrors of urban conditions on the eve of the Victorian Age – mass poverty following the collapse of the silk industry, overcrowding, the arrival of cholera, political agitation and unrest, crime (including body-snatching from his own churchyard), and what came to be known as ‘spiritual destitution’ resulting from the failure of the Church of England to provide for the teeming population in its care. Yet he lived long enough to experience radical changes, many of them led by his superior, Charles James Blomfield, the reformist Bishop of London, as the Church sought to come to terms with industrial urban society. At Bethnal Green a vigorous programme of church building was set in hand, with the result that the pastoral care of the parish, which was provided by James Mayne almost single-handed until 1831, was being delivered in 1853 by no less than twenty-two clergymen based at twelve separate churches, each named after one of the twelve apostles.

Mayne’s clerical career began in December 1814 when he was ordained a deacon by George Henry Law, bishop of Chester. At the same time he was licensed to serve as a curate in the tiny parish of Stoke, a few miles from Chester. In September 1815 he was ordained a priest. ((Cheshire Record Office, EDA 1/10: 18 Dec. 1814; 24 Sept. 1815.)) These facts, and the course of Mayne’s subsequent career, have come to light thanks to the Clergy of the Church of England Database. However, Mayne was a late entrant to the Church’s ministry; he was around the age of thirty-nine at the time of his ordination. Nothing is known as yet of his earlier life, from his birth around 1775 to the birth of his daughter, Isabella Georgina Mayne, at Chelsea around 1813. ((Isabella Georgina Mayne married James Homewood, the organist of St John, Bethnal Green, in 1831, and died in 1880. Her birth around 1813 is attested in census records. James Mayne might conceivably have spent his early life in the armed services during the Napoleonic wars or possibly in teaching.)) Even the record of his marriage, to Isabella Webster, has so far eluded discovery. ((Isabella Webster is given as the former name of Mayne’s wife in the record of the baptism of their daughter Melissa Belle at Great Witchingham, Norfolk, on 3 September 1820.))

Mayne’s late entry to a clerical career may reflect the difficulties in the way of those who lacked a degree or the means to afford the high cost of a university education. Some bishops, including Blomfield, sought to make the clergy a graduate profession, and only ordained non-graduates in exceptional circumstances. ((Malcolm Johnson, Bustling intermeddler? The life and work of Charles James Blomfield (Leominster, 2001), pp. 24–5.)) At this time non-graduates were often seen as a problem within the Church; only later in the century would they begin to be perceived as a solution – hard-working pastors who could reach the urban working class more effectively than gentlemen educated in the universities. The percentage of non-graduates amongst the clergy has been variously assessed, and the progress of the Clergy of the Church of England Database will doubtless promote access to firmer statistics. However, in most of England non-graduates probably represented around a quarter of the clergy towards the time of Mayne’s ordination. The exception was the north-west of England, and parts of Wales, where they comprised as much as a half or two-thirds of the clergy. ((W. M. Jacob, The clerical profession in the long eighteenth century 1680–1840 (Oxford, 2007), p. 56; Alan Haig, The Victorian clergy (London, 1984), ch. 3; William John Conybeare, Essays ecclesiastical and social (London, 1855), pp. 1–56)) In the huge diocese of Chester, which encompassed Cheshire, Lancashire and large parts of Yorkshire, Cumberland and Westmorland, around 60 per cent of the clergy ordained by Beilby Porteus (bishop of Chester 1776–87) were non-graduates. ((B. E. Harris and Alan T. Thacker, A history of the county of Chester. Vol. III (The Victoria History of the Counties of England, Oxford, 1980), p. 55.))

The need to staff the many poor livings in the diocese, not least in the growing industrial areas of Lancashire, encouraged a more inclusive acceptance of non-graduate clergy and focussed the minds of successive bishops of Chester on their training. Ordination candidates were expected to be competent in Latin and Greek and to have a good theological knowledge whether derived from grammar school or university education or otherwise through private study; interviews and examinations might be part of the selection process. ((Jacob, Clerical profession, pp. 56–9.)) At Chester towards the end of the eighteenth century Bishops Porteus and William Cleaver both issued long reading lists for non-graduate candidates. Bishop Law, in the year after he ordained James Mayne as a priest, founded St Bees Theological College, the Church’s first college for the training of clergy outside the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Chester was therefore an ideal diocese to give Mayne an entrée to a clerical career. His appreciation was expressed in the name he chose for his daughter, whom he baptised at Stoke in January 1816. She was christened with the Latin name of the diocese, Cestria. ((Cestria Mayne was christened at Stoke on 30 January 1816. She was buried at St Matthew, Bethnal Green, aged 12, on 20 September 1827.))

With its tiny population of 120 and modest curate’s stipend of £50 per annum, the parish of Stoke was no more than a stepping stone in Mayne’s career. His last entry in the parish registers is dated October 1816. He surfaces next as the curate of two associated parishes consolidated in a union for the duration of the current incumbency (a process unique to the diocese of Norwich), Great and Little Witchingham, to the north-west of Norwich, in July 1818. ((Entries with Mayne’s distinctive bold signature in the Witchingham registers (Norfolk Record Office) begin in July 1818 and end in June 1823.)) In 1821 he was duly licensed by Henry Bathurst, bishop of Norwich to serve in this capacity, with a stipend of £100 per annum and the use of the vicarage house at Great Witchingham, with its stables and garden. This was at the nomination of Dr Thomas Jeans, the incumbent, backed by letters testimonial to Mayne’s piety, sobriety, honesty, diligence and doctrinal orthodoxy, signed by three neighbouring clergymen, including Dr Augustine Bulwer of Heydon Hall, rector of Heydon, who was to prove a significant friend and patron. ((Norfolk RO, DN/CUR/6: 7 June 1821. On Augustine Bulwer (d. 1831), see Burke’s Landed Gentry.))

After two quiet country parishes, the transition of Mayne, with his wife and at least three young daughters, to the gruelling work and urban squalor of Bethnal Green is very remarkable. He clearly sought the post of curate on his own initiative, being previously unknown to the rector of St Matthew’s, Joshua King. King received Mayne’s application, backed by a reference from Augustine Bulwer, in December 1822, and wrote in some perplexity to Brasenose College, Oxford, patron of the living, to ask if anything could be ascertained about Mayne, his character and religious beliefs. ((Brasenose College, Oxford, Bethnal Green records (hereafter BNC, BG), file 3 (22 letters from King): 2 Dec. 1822.)) Mayne took up the post in July 1823, although more than five years were to pass before he received Bishop Blomfield’s licence, confirming his stipend of £150 per annum plus residential use of the parsonage house. ((Guildhall Library, MS 10300/4, f. 39: 5 Dec. 1828. Letters nominating Mayne for the licence, dated 18 Nov. 1828, and signed by Joshua King, Thomas Barneby, rector of St Dunstan, Stepney, and Henry Plimley, vicar of St Leonard, Shoreditch, on the basis of three years’ acquaintance with Mayne’s piety, sobriety, honesty and orthodox doctrine, are in MS 10116/25.))

Bethnal Green in 1823 comprised the single teeming parish of St Matthew. During Mayne’s curacy, rapid population growth and industrial collapse made it an urban slum, a focus of interest for sanitary reformers such as Southwood Smith and Edwin Chadwick as well as for social and political commentators, and a pressing concern to the parish in its operation of the poor law. The population of Bethnal Green in 1821 stood at 45,676, rising to 62,018 in 1831 and to 74,088 in 1841. ((An abstract of the answers and returns … Enumeration abstract, 1821 (London, 1822), p. 192; Abstract of the answers and returns … Enumeration abstract, 1831. Vol. 1 (London, 1833), p. 368; Abstract of the answers and returns … Enumeration abstract, 1841 (London, 1843), p. 179.)) Its economy was heavily dependent on silk-weaving, largely carried out on looms in overcrowded domestic houses. Evidence was given to the Select Committee on the Silk Trade in 1832 that 12,000 of the 16,000 Spitalfields looms were located in Bethnal Green; with some three persons to a loom, towards 36,000 of the Bethnal Green population were engaged in silk-weaving. ((Report from a Select Committee on the Silk Trade…ordered by the House of Commons to be printed 2 August 1832, especially pp. 475–80.)) This was, however, an industry in rapid decline. The repeal in 1824 of the Spitalfields Acts and the removal in 1826 of import restrictions opened the market to foreign competition, leading to a steady drop in wages and to high levels of unemployment. Poor housing was another feature of Bethnal Green. It was reported in 1838 that nowhere in London were there so many low-rented houses, with the vast majority of the population living in small, badly-built homes, densely packed together. (( T. F. T. Baker (ed.), Victoria history of the county of Middlesex. Vol. XI, Early Stepney with Bethnal Green (The Victoria History of the Counties of England, Oxford, 1998), pp. 124–5, 178–9.)) Unmade and muddy roads and alleys, an almost total lack of drainage and sewerage and a variety of squalid and noxious trades produced a dire effect on health. In a detailed street-by-street report published in 1848, Hector Gavin recorded the ‘filthy cesspools and privies which everywhere pollute the surface of this dirty parish’, the intermittent water supply (twice weekly for two hours at a time) commonly with one standpipe serving three or four homes and sometimes as many as thirty, overcrowded homes with rooms sleeping six or nine and sometimes as many as fourteen, and everywhere dust and garbage heaps, filth and foul smells. The Town District, which included the church of St Matthew and the parsonage house where Mayne lived, was no better than the rest, being densely crowded with no open spaces whatever. The District boasted only two water closets, one of which was in the parsonage house, but even this drained into a cesspool. Elsewhere in the District, there was one privy to two houses or more. ((Hector Gavin, Sanitary ramblings, being sketches and illustrations of Bethnal Green (London, 1848), especially pp. 4, 34, 88.)) Gavin went on to show that the average age at death for the labouring people of Bethnal Green was only sixteen, with more than a quarter of the population succumbing to epidemic disease. There was also a prevailing effect on health in general: ‘… it is notorious, that an enormous proportion of the people are unhealthy, without vigour or physical strength, pallid and cachetic, stunted in their growth…’ ((Gavin, Sanitary ramblings, pp. 105–13.)) James Mayne would have been acutely aware of these conditions, not least through the innumerable burials which he performed, day after day, in St Matthew’s crowded graveyard and perhaps, too, through the death of his daughter Cestria, buried in 1827 at the age of twelve. ((London Metropolitan Archives (hereafter LMA), St Matthew, Bethnal Green parish records.))

The spiritual care of the people of Bethnal Green was the responsibility of the rector, while the civil management of the parish (including highways and poor relief) fell to the vestry, representing the ratepayers. ((Tower Hamlets Local History and Archives Library, Bethnal Green Vestry records (hereafter THL, BG), 276–82: Vestry minutes 1820–44.)) Public vestry meetings could be rowdy affairs, with up to 1,000 members of the public in attendance on one occasion in 1818. Joshua King, the autocratic rector of Bethnal Green from 1809 to 1861, fought a constant battle with a faction of his vestry, which controlled the maintenance of the church and graveyard, the appointment of the clerk, the organist and the sexton and. was responsible for paying his own salary. His bitterest foe was Joseph Merceron, whose corrupt management of parish funds became notorious. King managed to have him convicted in 1818 for misappropriation of parish funds and licensing public houses used for debauchery, but Merceron recovered to chair vestry meetings again from 1826 and to become one of the chief landlords in the parish. ((VCH, Middlesex, XI, pp. 191–3. On Merceron, cf. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.)) In 1823, while Mayne’s application for the post of curate lay on King’s desk, the feud led to an act of parliament to establish a select vestry with only 100 vestrymen. However, the first election meeting proved tumultuous: King, who was in the chair, reported colourfully to both the bishop of London and the principal of Brasenose:

I was assailed on every side with the vilest calumny and abuse, with hissing, hollowing, shouting and most violent exclamations … for about three hours … several of the creatures approached in menacing attitude and said ‘they were better fellows than me, they would not be bullied and dictated to by me’, [and] added ‘Mr Rector I am going to piss – Mr Rector I am going to s—t’! ((Lambeth Palace Library (hereafter LPL), Fulham Papers, Howley, vol. 25, f. 294 (26 May 1823); BNC, BG file 3 (27 May 1823).))

At the next meeting the following day the Riot Act was read. King drew the conclusion that unless some remedy were found, he would be driven from Bethnal Green, as was his predecessor, William Loxham (rector 1766–1809), who was driven out after less than six months, never to set foot in his parish again. ((LPL, Fulham Papers, Howley, vol. 25, f. 294; BNC, BG file 3 (12 Mar. 1823).))

James Mayne began work as the curate of Bethnal Green only five weeks later. ((LMA, St Matthew Bethnal Green parish records. The first burial performed by Mayne was on 8 July 1823)) For the next five years Joshua King shared the work of the parish with him for part of the year. However, King had inherited the family living of Woodchurch, Cheshire, on the death of his father in 1820, and increasingly resided there, returning only periodically to London. ((LPL, Fulham Papers, Howley, vol. 25, f. 290r (20 Sept. 1820).)) After 1828 King left his bed of nails at Bethnal Green entirely to his curate, evidently concluding that Mayne provided a safe pair of hands. ((King’s absence from Bethnal Green after 1828 is apparent from the parish registers.))

Services at St Matthew occupied much of Mayne’s energies at Bethnal Green. Services were performed every Sunday, morning and evening, each with a sermon. On the first Sunday of every month there was Holy Communion, as well as on Christmas Day, Good Friday, Easter Sunday and Whitsunday. During the week prayers were said on Wednesdays and Fridays, and there was a daily quota of marriages, baptisms, funerals and churchings following childbirth. ((BNC, BG file 3 (7 May 1827).)) The church was said in 1823 to accommodate only 1,500 out of a population expanding towards 50,000. ((BNC, BG file 3 (27 May 1823).)) Mayne could therefore expect to preach to capacity audiences and there was pressure for more seating and indeed for new churches. Other duties involved in pastoral care would probably have included parochial visiting, care of the sick and dying, the administration of charity and an involvement in education, in association with the National School opened at St Matthew in 1819. ((On pastoral duties, see Jacob, Clerical profession, part two. On the National Society school, cf. VCH, Middlesex, XI, pp. 242–3.))

More than any other source, the parish registers of St Matthew reveal the incredible burden of work which James Mayne sustained. From 1828 to 1831 he was the sole clergyman at St Matthew, performing each year some 800 christenings, 180 marriages and 670 funerals. The work was unremitting, day after day without a break, with funerals even on Christmas Day. It was also intense. There were days at which he officiated at as many as thirty or even forty christenings, or as many as ten funerals, though only a tiny minority of these involved services in the church as well as in the churchyard. ((Calculations from LMA, St Matthew Bethnal Green parish records. The burial register from 13 Feb. 1828 to 21 Aug. 1831 records 2,400 burials; Mayne officiated at 2,340 and King at the remainder in October and November 1828. Mayne performed 6 burials on 5 May 1831 and 10 on 6 May 1831; 40 christenings on 20 July 1823 and 30 on 3 August 1823. Statistics on burials between 1833 and 1835 (with varying prices for funerals in the upper, middle and lower grounds) are given in THL, BG 280 (9 Mar. 1836). Of 1,597 funerals in these years only 196 were accompanied by services in the church at the extra charge of two shillings each.)) Mayne’s bold signature advances resolutely through the registers, tallying the burials which filled the graveyard to near its capacity of 50,000 by 1848, including many thousands of burials at which Mayne officiated. ((Burials at St Matthew were discontinued in 1853: see the online data at www.londonburials.co.uk and in VCH, Middlesex, XI, p. 208.))

To this exceptional workload Mayne added additional work, which also served to boost his income. His salary, paid by the Rector and confirmed at his licensing in 1828, was £150 per annum, a significant level for a curate at this time. To this he added occasional income. In 1823, for example, he was awarded seven guineas for preparing the annual bishop’s transcript of the voluminous parish register. ((THL, BG 277, p. 30. The average stipend of the 355 curates in the diocese of London in 1834 was £98 per annum, Johnson, Bustling intermeddler?, p. 106.)) He also netted £21 per annum from a parish charity, Margaretta Browne’s gift, which provided for the distribution of prayer books, Bibles and tracts to children at the feast of Epiphany. Mayne was required to read prayers and lessons and catechise the children one day in the month. At the Epiphany he preached a sermon on the calling of the Gentiles and examined the children, giving Bibles and prayer books to the most deserving. ((Charity Commissioners, 32nd Report, part 2, 1838, pp. 537–8.)) In 1829 the afternoon lectureship became vacant, with responsibility for officiating and preaching at the Sunday afternoon service. The appointment lay with the vestry. Candidates were required to preach probationary sermons prior to the election. With no degree to his name, Mayne outdid the rival candidate, Rev. John Ayre, MA, classical tutor to the Church Missionary College at Islington, and was appointed to succeed the Rev. Dr. William John Lowfield Fancourt in the lectureship. Mayne had clearly won the support of the fractious vestry and was duly congratulated on the ‘flattering manner’ of his appointment. Joshua King also wrote from Woodchurch to congratulate him on achieving unity of doctrine in the parish by occupying the pulpit both morning and afternoon. He added that the appointment would contribute materially to Mayne’s comfort from a pecuniary point of view. Bishop Blomfield’s licence for the lectureship duly followed, backed by a testimonial to Mayne’s ‘good life and conversation’ and sound doctrine signed by the rectors of Stepney and Whitechapel and by Henry Handley Norris, a well-known high churchman associated with the Hackney Phalanx, whose approval of Mayne possibly gives a hint of Mayne’s own churchmanship. ((On Mayne’s election, THL, BG 278, pp. 82–105. On his licensing, Guildhall Library, MS 10116/25, May–June 1829. King’s congratulations to Mayne on securing the unity of doctrine in the parish – by defeating his evangelical opponent, the Rev. John Ayre – may offer further evidence of Mayne’s churchmanship.))

By 1831 Mayne’s excessive workload, or rather its effect on the spiritual welfare of his parishioners, was becoming a matter for concern to the bishop of London. Following a meeting with Mayne at London House, Blomfield wrote to Joshua King in December 1831, urging the appointment of an assistant curate. ‘This state of things’, he argued, ‘of course excites great dissatisfaction as it is quite impossible for any one clergyman, however active and zealous, to look after the spiritual needs of such a population.’ He dismissed the occasional help given by another clergyman, Thomas Davies, whose bodily infirmity prevented him from taking any active part in work such as parish visiting. Mayne, he added, would not object to a deduction from his income of £40 or £50 to contribute to the new post and he trusted that King would add as much again. ((LPL, Fulham Papers, Blomfield, vol. 2, ff. 44–5 (9 Dec. 1831). )) King pointed out in a blustering reply that Mayne was perfectly equal to all the duties of the parish and had even complained of a want of employment. To fill up his ‘vacant hours’ Mayne had even accepted the chaplaincy of a lunatic asylum and had established a private school:

No man can be more popular or give more universal satisfaction than he does – no man can have provided better for the occasional duties which he could not personally discharge than he has done – why then, as there is no ground for complaint, should the harmony of the parish be endangered by the introduction of a person who might create jealousies and conflicting interests?

He added that Mayne decidedly objected to having an assistant. ((BNC, BG file 11: King to the principal of Brasenose, 17 Feb. 1832. On the private asylum at Bethnal Green run by the Warburton family, see VCH, Middlesex, XI, pp.165, 206. The asylum also accommodated paupers on behalf of the parish. In 1829–30 it housed 933 patients, of whom 654 were paupers.))

In a terse response, Blomfield threatened to declare King’s Bethnal Green living void unless he fell into line, evoking in turn an explosion from King against ‘our Lordly Despot, an exact counterpart of the notorious Bonner’. ((LPL, Fulham Papers, Blomfield, vol. 2, f. 74 (13 Feb. 1832); BNC, BG file 11 (17 Feb. 1832).)) In addition the Bishop carpeted Mayne at London House concerning the Lunatic Asylum, arguing that it was impossible that ‘other avocations’ were compatible with the proper care of the parish and demanding the appointment of an assistant who would receive part of Mayne’s salary. ((LPL, Fulham Papers, Blomfield, vol. 2, f. 51r: Blomfield to Mayne, 17 Dec. 1831; vol.3, ff. 17–18: same to same, 20 Apr. 1832)) Mayne next proposed the appointment of Thomas Davies as assistant curate, drawing down further censure from the bishop and the suspension of Davies from officiating without an episcopal licence. Mayne was summoned again to London House in May, when he must have calmed the wrath of his abrupt and determined superior. Whether infirm or not, Davies was licensed as assistant stipendiary curate with a salary of £75 per annum in July 1832. ((Guildhall Library, MS 10300/5, 27 July 1832. Davies served until November 1835, when Blomfield revoked his licence for appropriating to his own use subscriptions to the Bethnal Green National School. LPL, Fulham Papers, Blomfield, vol.11, f. 41 (23 Nov. 1835).)) From this time onwards Mayne had regular assistance in the parish and he achieved it without diminution of his salary. The report of the Commission on Ecclesiastical Revenues in 1835 shows that King, the absentee rector, received a gross income from the parish of £614. From this he provided £225 in salaries to the curates; Mayne continued to receive £150 per annum as senior curate, while Davies received £75 per annum as his assistant. ((Report of the Commissioners appointed … to enquire into the ecclesiastical revenues of England and Wales (London, 1835). It is notable that the report does not take into account occasional income, especially Mayne’s afternoon lectureship which was paid separately by the vestry.))

Throughout his time at Bethnal Green the most pressing issues for James Mayne were poverty and the lack of facilities for the spiritual care of the burgeoning population. In May 1824 he expressed to the vestry his support for the construction of an iron gallery at St Matthew to increase accommodation. The scheme had already been sanctioned in 1819 with the award of a grant of £350 by the Incorporated Church Building Society but nothing had been done. The project was finally implemented in 1824, providing 600 extra free seats and raising the capacity of the church to 2,000. ((THL, BG 277, pp. 104–19; LPL, Incorporated Church Building Society, minute books, vol.1, ff. 160, 161, 166; vol. 2, ff. 11, 230. The report of the Ecclesiastical Revenues Commission stated that in 1835 the church accommodated 2,000. The gallery was on three sides of the church and a reference in 1839 to the ‘children’s galleries’ probably indicates how it came to be used. VCH, Middlesex, XI, p. 215; THL, BG 281, p. 347.)) Mayne also proposed the purchase of additional ground to extend the overcrowded churchyard, though the vestry declined to levy a rate to meet the cost. ((THL, BG 280 (29 July 1836).)) The need for additional churches was also pressing. When Mayne came to Bethnal Green in 1823, St Matthew was the only Anglican church in the parish, apart from the Episcopal Chapel for the Conversion of the Jews. However the Church Building Commissioners had contemplated building two new churches in the parish as early as 1819, with support from the bishop of London, then William Howley. ((VCH, Middlesex, XI, p. 215. In 1822 Howley wrote to Joshua King taking his advice on sites for the two churches. LPL, Fulham Papers, Howley, vol. 25, f. 292r.)) One church was eventually built, St John. Designed by Sir John Soane and consecrated in 1828, this provided seating for another 2,000 of the parishioners. ((VCH, Middlesex, XI, pp. 215, 221–2)) St John was not assigned its own district until 1837 and until this time remained in close association with St Matthew and its vestry. Mayne was therefore directly involved in this new church. In July 1828, for instance, we find him in correspondence with Sir John Soane about seating in the new church. ‘Mr. Soane presents his compliments to the Rev. Mr. Mayne and in answer to his note begs to inform him that plans for the pews in the new chapel at Bethnal Green are being prepared and shall be forwarded to him as soon as possible.’ It fell to Mayne to rate the pews at St John (apart from 790 free seats) and to submit his account of the pews and pew income to Brasenose College as patron of the parish. ((BNC, BG file 11: Mayne to the principal, 19 July 1828.))

The main impulse for church extension came however from Bishop Blomfield. In 1839 he launched the Bethnal Green Fund, with an appeal under the title ‘Spiritual destitution of the parish of Bethnal Green’. It pointed to the growing population, estimated at 70,000, still only served by three churches (including the Episcopal Jews’ Chapel) with five clergymen. ‘It is scarcely possible to imagine an equal amount of population, in a christian country, more destitute of the means of religious and moral instruction.’ Blomfield’s scheme envisaged the building of ten additional churches equipped with clergymen and schools. ((Johnson, Bustling intermeddler?, pp.104–20.)) Mayne was included in the Committee to promote subscriptions. He collected money at St Matthew and around the parish and himself contributed five guineas. ((Archbishop Howley’s printed copy of the appeal with a preliminary list of subscribers is held in Lambeth Palace Library (H5133/609, item 15). Mayne is listed as collecting £17.17s at St Matthew and over £13 from two districts in the parish. Other copies and versions of the appeal and list are in BNC, BG, D148.))

The first stone of the first of the new churches, St Peter, was laid in August 1840 by the Lord Mayor, prayers having first been offered by James Mayne. However, Bethnal Green lived up to its unruly reputation and the ceremony was marred by a jeering crowd which let loose an ox to disrupt the proceedings. ((The Times, 4 Aug. 1840; VCH, Middlesex, XI, p. 216.)) During Mayne’s last years at Bethnal Green the building work advanced rapidly. By 1843, the year after he left the parish, four churches had been consecrated; by 1853 Bethnal Green had twelve churches with ten schools and 22 clergymen. ((VCH, Middlesex, XI, p. 216.))

In promoting church extension Blomfield had drawn a link between spiritual destitution, poverty and vice. His appeal referred to Bethnal Green as a parish which had become ‘the resort of persons who, from abject poverty or vicious habits, desire to live secluded from observation’. The vestry at St Matthew took a similar view. A committee reported approvingly in 1831 on the provision of free seating at St John, arguing that ‘whatever tends to allure the poor to a place of public worship on the Sabbath Day tends also to their moral improvement and thus by the inculcation of religious precepts effectively reduces the parochial expenditure, it being universally proved that a neglect of public worship on the Lord’s Day leads to indolence, extravagance and all those vices by which pauperism is produced and misery engendered’. ((THL, BG 279, p.70.)) Mayne would have been acutely conscious of crime at Bethnal Green, being obliged to move the parish safe from his parsonage house to the workhouse for greater security, and to face up to the evil of grave-robbing from the churchyard for anatomy teaching. ((On the parish safe, THL, BG 277, p. 153 (4 Nov. 1824). )) In 1826 he had to present evidence against the sexton, a watchman, a gravedigger and others after bodies were disinterred, including the grave of a young woman whose head had been cut off and her child carried away. ((THL, BG 279 (11 June 1824, 28 Apr., 26 Oct., 10 Nov. 1826).)) Mayne was aware, however, that poverty and vice did not necessarily spring from spiritual destitution but could have political and economic causes. This was abundantly clear to him in the destitution of the Spitalfield weavers.

The removal of import restrictions on foreign silk in 1826 brought the Spitalfields silk industry into decline, lowering wages and throwing weavers into unemployment as looms lay idle. Mayne took an active part in providing relief. In February 1827 the vestry sent him, with the vestry clerk, to implore the help of Bishop Blomfield, who was not yet translated to London from Chester but already active in a Committee for the Relief of the Distressed Manufacturing Parishes. ((THL, BG 277 (21 Feb. 1827).)) In the following years the parish was in constant difficulties as expenses for outdoor relief soared, while the number of inmates in the parish workhouse rose from 807 in the year 1826–7 to 1,100 in September 1829. ((THL, BG 277–9 passim; on the statistics for the workhouse, 277 (27 June 1827); 278, p.174 (30 Sept. 1829).)) Large loans had to be taken out by the parish and special measures were introduced to put the poor to work breaking up stone and granite for the use of Mr McAdam for road building. ((THL, BG 278, pp. 44–5 (4 Dec. 1828); p. 156 (11 Sept. 1829).)) In January 1829 Mayne chaired a meeting to set up a Committee to relieve the sufferings of the distressed poor in the silk districts of Spitalfields and Bethnal Green. ((The Times, 28 Jan. 1829.))

By 1832, when the Select Committee on the Silk Trade collected its evidence, the situation was much worse. The poor in relief of parish outdoor relief had risen from 1,319 in 1828 to 6,218 in 1832 and there were over 1,160 in the workhouse. John Ballance, a silk manufacturer who had known Spitalfields for forty years, gave harrowing testimony to the situation in the winter of 1831–2 when five to six thousand looms stood idle, throwing 18,000 persons into unemployment. He reported children crying for bread, families without bed or furniture and scarcely any clothes to cover them and nothing but a heap of straw in the corner of a room to lie upon. He also testified to a change in public morals, a new recklessness of character in which virtue and good principles had been lost. For many of those still in work Sunday was no longer a day of rest but a necessary day of labour, given the fall in wages. He noted too a political revolution as government measures were blamed for the distress: ‘I do not in the least exaggerate when I say there is a deadly hatred working in many thousands of them to the Government of their country, which presents a contrast as striking as it is painful to their former known loyalty and attachment.’ ((Report from a Select Committee on the Silk Trade, pp. 475–80.))

Adding to the crisis, cholera reached England for the first time late in 1831 and reached the East End of London in February 1832. The Vestry of Bethnal Green established a Local Board of Health, but it was unable to prevent the sickness breaking out in the parish workhouse, said to be housing 1,200–1,300 people although its comfort capacity was not more than six to seven hundred. A workshop in the house was set up as an infirmary and, by order of the secretary of state, all the able-bodied were turned out on outdoor relief. ((Report from a Select Committee on the Silk Trade, p.720. Cf. Robert Mc R. Higgins, ‘The 1832 cholera epidemic in East London’, East London Record, 2 (1979).)) With more that 6,000 paupers on the books the parish could no longer cope. In February 1832 two women were arrested for breaking the windows of an overseer’s house after being refused aid, and in March a mob of 500 threatened to demolish the workhouse. ((Higgins, ‘1832 cholera epidemic’.)) The unrest fused with agitation for the passage of the electoral Reform Bill. Here, too, James Mayne was active. At a meeting of his parishioners in 1831, his had been the first name put forward for a committee to lobby the King in favour of the Reform Bill, ‘a measure fraught with benefit to the whole community as the means of restoring to the House of Commons the entire confidence of the British nation and of averting those appalling results to be justly apprehended if the present expectations of nearly all of His Majesty’s subjects be unfortunately disappointed’. Mayne had also been thanked for ‘his liberal sentiments in furthering the objects of the present meeting’. ((The Times, 12 Mar. 1831. ))

It was during the political and economic crisis of 1832 that James Mayne was awarded the degree of Master of Arts by the archbishop of Canterbury, William Howley. The degree was awarded by the Archbishop through his Faculty Office on 3 July 1832. ((Archbishop Howley’s signed instruction (fiat) to the Faculty Office, dated 29 June 1832, to issue letters testimonial of the award of Mayne’s degree, are in LPL, Faculty Office, FII/173, together with the text of the award of the degree and the oaths signed by Mayne, dated 3 July 1832. The text is also entered in the Faculty Office register (LPL, Faculty Office, FI/Z, f. 105). )) Lambeth degrees were given sparingly. In the decade from July 1827 to June 1837 only 37 degrees were awarded, 21 of them being the degree of Master of Arts. Of these 21, ten were given to candidates who already held a BA degree from Oxford or Cambridge or who had received a university education. Another ten, that is to say only one on average each year, went to candidates with no apparent university background. Mayne falls into this exceptional category. ((Lambeth degrees awarded to 1848 are listed in W. Stubbs, ‘Lambeth degrees’, Gentleman’s Magazine, 216 (1864), pp. 633–8, 770–2. A full annotated list is in LPL, MS 1715. Cf. Noel Cox, ‘Dispensations, privileges and the conferment of graduate status, with special reference to Lambeth degrees’, Journal of Law and Religion, 18, 1 (2002–3), 249–74.)) Regrettably, the letters testimonial proposing Mayne for a degree do not survive, so the reason for the award, beyond his ‘proficiency in the study of divinity, uprightness of life, sound doctrine and purity of morals’ cannot be known with certainty. However, Howley had already taken an interest in Bethnal Green, visiting and preaching a sermon there in 1820 in aid of the National School and promoting church extension. ((LPL, Fulham Papers, Howley, vol. 7, ff. 197–8. Howley’s views on the Reform Bill in 1832 were the opposite of Mayne’s but did not impede the award of the M.A. That Bethnal Green was a special object of archiepiscopal attention is suggested by the award of a Lambeth D.D. in 1861 to Timothy Gibson, successor to Mayne as curate and successor also to Joshua King as rector of Bethnal Green LPL, MS 1715, f. 93r.)) With mobs on the streets and marches of workers from Bethnal Green into the City, it would be surprising if Howley, along with Bishop Blomfield, did not have an eye on Bethnal Green during the crisis of 1832 and on James Mayne as the representative on the spot of the Established Church. The award of the MA lifted Mayne out of the ranks of the ‘literates’, raised his social status as one of the educated élite and demonstrated the Church’s approval of his work and of Mayne himself as a leader in society. It was a status which Mayne used subsequently in further campaigns for the Spitalfields weavers, always appearing in printed and newspaper appeals as ‘Rev. James Mayne, M.A.’

In January 1841 Mayne again chaired a meeting of his parishioners to consider further measures to relieve the distress. He stated, according to a report in The Times, that the situation was so urgent that the most prompt measures were necessary. No man could be more ready than he to afford all the assistance in his power and he should be happy to forward the object of the meeting. When a weaver protested that relief was a degradation when what was wanted was work, and that attention should be focused on the economic cause of the distress, Mayne sought to direct the mind of the meeting to the fact that distress existed and needed remedy. However, when pressed about his views on the free import of foreign silks, he acknowledged that he shared the weaver’s view that Englishmen had a claim to preference over foreigners and deserved a right to protection. The meeting went on to establish an Association for the Relief of the Destitute Poor of Bethnal Green, with Mayne as its president. A collection was also taken at which £50 was subscribed, including a gift from Mayne himself. ((The Times, 1 Jan. 1841.)) Subscriptions were subsequently received from Prince Albert, the philanthropist Angela Burdett-Coutts and many others, raising the fund to £840 by the following month. ((The Times, 15, 24 Feb. 1841.)) Mayne was also treasurer of the Royal Adelaide Provident Institution, a friendly society established in 1837 for relieving distress in the silk industry. ((The Times, 10 Feb. 1841 (The Institution’s third report). Its scale was small since it relied on voluntary contributions from the workers while in employment. Only 342 families were relieved in the first three years.))

In working for the relief of the Spitalfields weavers Mayne shared a platform with dissenting ministers. He was equally able to accommodate the notorious Joseph Merceron, working with him, for instance, to champion a parish beadle dismissed from office in 1824, and only chairing vestry meetings from 1841, after Merceron’s demise. Unlike his headstrong rector, Mayne was also able to communicate with his parishioners, sharing their views and winning the support of the fractious vestry and enjoying its commendation of his preaching. No less remarkably he won the confidence of his rector and equally strong-minded bishop. On his retirement from Bethnal Green in 1842 (which necessitated his resignation of the office of afternoon lecturer) Mayne received an exceptional tribute from the vestry. The motion was passed

that the resignation of the Revd. James Mayne be accepted. And this Vestry desires in accepting it to record their deep and lasting sense of the various important duties of this sacred office so long and ably filled by him in this parish and do most cordially congratulate him on his retirement from among us that he should have received an appointment of a much more important nature but likely to contribute most materially to the happiness and comfort of his latter days and we do most heartily wish him health and happiness. ((THL, BG 282, pp. 238–40.))

In personal terms Mayne’s nineteen years at Bethnal Green had been extraordinarily arduous and not without sorrow. His daughter Cestria died in 1827. A son, George Augustus Frederic Mayne, was christened in 1826 (by Mayne’s friend and patron Augustine Bulwer), but he does not appear to have survived until the census of 1841. Mayne’s wife Isabella had also died by 1833, the date of Mayne’s re-marriage at Bethnal Green to a widow, Sarah Brazell. ((LMA, Bethnal Green parish registers, baptisms 30 May 1826; marriages 21 Mar. 1833. The marriage was by licence of the archbishop of Canterbury. James and Sarah Mayne are recorded in the census of 1841. The National Archives, PRO, HO 107/694, book 2, folio 5, p. 5. )) More positively, Mayne’s daughters Isabella Georgina and Melissa Belle had both married, and both had children. Isabella had married James Homewood, the organist of St John, Bethnal Green, in 1831, while Melissa had married Thomas Kensit, an umbrella stick maker, in 1840. These two daughters were Mayne’s heirs, named in the will which he made on leaving Bethnal Green in July 1842.

Mayne had begun his career as a non-graduate ‘literate’, an outsider in the ecclesiastical establishment. Decades after his death a contemporary recalled that curates serving non-resident incumbents were, as a rule, ‘neither of such social status or education as to command respect’, and went on to tell three anecdotes about Mayne as just such an ‘extraordinary character’. On one occasion Mayne informed a colleague that his daughter had made a very satisfactory marriage. On being asked the profession of the bridegroom he replied, ‘No, no: none of your professions for me, in which a man must often starve his belly that he may smartly clothe his back’, and he proceeded to explain that his son-in-law was in an excellent business as a journeyman maker of umbrella sticks. ((William Crouch, Bryan King and the riots at St George’s-in-the East (London, 1904), pp. 22–3. )) This unusual, but pragmatic, view gives another glimpse of Mayne as a new type of clergyman, bluff and practical and more in tune with the working urban parishioners whom he served.

In January 1842 the Ecclesiastical Gazette announced Mayne’s appointment to be the vicar of Hanslope with Castlethorpe, Buckinghamshire. He had achieved the prize of a living of his own, offering freehold and the security of employment which no curate enjoyed. It was again a small country living, Hanslope’s population in 1841 being only 1,553. The income of the Vicar was small, no more than £90 in 1835, but for Mayne the living meant a huge reduction in the stress and labour of clerical life. ((Report of the Commissioners … into the ecclesiastical revenues of England and Wales (1835). )) He died there, aged 76, on 7 February 1851, and was buried in the chancel of the parish church of St James the Great. An obituary notice in The Times recorded that he was much and deservedly esteemed by numerous friends. ((The Times, 12 Feb. 1851.))

 

Richard Palmer

Dr Richard Palmer was librarian and archivist of Lambeth Palace Library for nineteen years until his retirement in 2010. He was formerly curator of Western Manuscripts at the Wellcome Institute and honorary lecturer in the history of medicine at University College London, His publications have mainly been concerned with medicine in the early modern period

Bishops and their dioceses: reform of visitation in the Anglican church c.1680–c.1760

Abstract

After the upheavals of mid century the restored episcopate was faced with rebuilding the established Church. The visitation process was central to this, but the decline in its correctional powers, and the unwillingness of churchwardens to present neighbours for ecclesiastical offences, demanded a fresh approach. From the 1680s some bishops sought to involve the clergy rather than churchwardens in the process, and to make visitations more of an administrative occasion than a judicial one. New questions were addressed directly to the parochial clergy, seeking details of population, pastoral provision, educational initiatives, charitable provision and, in some cases, the social and political complexion of their parishes. Some bishops entered the information provided from the parish clergy into a survey, or speculum, for their use, and these surveys were enlarged by historical details about the rights and privileges of the parishes culled from the diocesan archives. By the mid-eighteenth century this practice was usual, if not universal, in the established Church, and the surveys were periodically, if not systematically, brought up to date by successive bishops at later visitations. Over time therefore, diocesans acquired detailed information on the parishes which surviving episcopal correspondence suggests they used when dealing with particular problems or introducing policy initiatives. The surveys and returns suggest that the pastoral engagement of the hierarchy was more significant than has previously been thought and, in this, their use of visitation was not very different from that of the bishops in the Gallican church. The records they produced, covering as they did a range of social and political as well as strictly ecclesiastical matters, also represent an example of that information gathering process adopted by other agencies of the British state which was to provide the basis for much political and social reform early in the following century.

Citation Information

To cite this article: W. J. Sheils, ‘Bishops and their dioceses: reform of visitation in the Anglican church c.1680–c.1760’, CCEd Online Journal 1, 2007.http://www.theclergydatabase.org.uk/cce_a1/

Article

‘The keystone of the arch of ecclesiastical administration however was the visitation; upon which to a considerable degree the good estate of the church depended.’ So wrote Professor Norman Sykes some time ago, and he was able to find support for this view from the pens of many leading churchmen of the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. ((Norman Sykes, From Sheldon to Secker. Aspects of English church history 1660-1768 (Cambridge, 1959), p. 15 and his earlier article ‘Episcopal administration in England in the eighteenth century’, English Historical Review, 48 (1932), 414-46, esp. pp. 437-8.)) How far these pious sentiments had practical results was, however, a more difficult question to resolve, and a bishop like William Lloyd of Peterborough, who conducted a personal parochial visitation of his relatively compact diocese in 1680, was an exception. Lloyd saw personal supervision as a valuable means of bringing the inferior clergy and churchwardens to ‘a serious sense of their duty’, but few of his contemporaries were as assiduous as he in this matter. ((Sykes, From Sheldon to Secker, p. 16. Compton of London also conducted a personal visitation of some city parishes in 1685, see Edward Carpenter, The protestant bishop (1956), pp. 216-21. )) More recent work by scholars such as John Spurr and Donald Spaeth ((John Spurr, The Restoration Church of England, 1646-1689 (New Haven and London, 1991), pp. 132-66; Donald Spaeth, The church in an age of danger. Parsons and parishioners, 1660-1740 (Cambridge, 2000), pp. 64-72.)) tends to confirm Sykes’s judgment that, despite the central importance of episcopacy to Restoration churchmen in the maintenance of ecclesiastical authority and the conscientiousness with which most bishops carried out their duties, the administrative difficulties in governing widespread jurisdictions and ‘maintaining such a regular and intimate knowledge of and communication with the inferior clergy as were necessary for the fulfilment of the ideal of the pastoral office within their dioceses’ ensured that, for the lower clergy, ‘their infrequent contact with their bishop made the occasion of visitation rather a social than an ecclesiastical event’. ((Norman Sykes, Church and state in England in the eighteenth century (Cambridge, 1934), pp. 137-8; see also pp. 115-16. )) In terms of discipline this work has indicated that the visitation process was in decline not only in cases dealing with the laity but also in those concerning the clergy, and that, in some cases, parishioners were electing to pursue negligent pastors through the secular courts instead. ((Spaeth, Age of danger, pp. 69-72. ))

Most recently however, work on Canterbury in the eighteenth century by Jeremy Gregory, ((Jeremy Gregory, Restoration, reformation and reform. The archbishops of Canterbury and their diocese 1660-1818 (Oxford, 2000), pp. 274-86; and the essays in The national church in local perspective. The Church of England and the regions 1660-1800, ed. Jeremy Gregory and Jeffrey S. Chamberlain (Woodbridge, 2005).)) has suggested a more optimistic view of episcopal achievement in this area, and the purpose of this paper is to indicate that the successes noted at Canterbury were part of more widespread administrative reforms which were reflected in the emergence of a new class of archive. These records, known as visitation returns, were not only a response to the general disillusionment with visitation discipline which was clear to many contemporaries, but may also have reflected a new understanding about the nature of ecclesiastical authority among some Anglicans, such as the former Presbyterian Edward Reynolds, bishop of Norwich. Reynolds sought a synodical form of diocesan government in which he would consult the parochial clergy ‘in matters of weight and difficulty’. ((Spurr, Restoration Church, quoted at p. 162)) In the years following the Restoration, and in particular after c. 1680, the clergy were increasingly involved in the process of visitation and were often asked to respond to a series of questions about their parochial provision sent by the bishop of the diocese, often in advance of visitation. These replies are well known to historians and have been a valued source for local church history for many years. ((A number of these have been printed. S. L. Ollard and P. C. Walker (eds.), Archbishop Herring’s Visitation Returns, 1743, ed. S. L. Ollard and P. C. Walker (5 vols, Yorkshire Archaeological Society, Record Series, 71, 72, 75, 77, 79, 1928-31); Articles of enquiry addressed to the clergy of the diocese of Oxford at the primary visitation of Dr Thomas Secker, 1738, ed. H. A. Lloyd Jukes (Oxfordshire Record Society, 38, 1957); The diocese of Exeter in 1821. I. Cornwall; II. Devon (Devon and Cornwall Record Society, new series, 3–4, 1958–60), ed. M. Cook; Wiltshire returns to the bishop’s visitation queries, 1783, ed. Mary Ransome (Wiltshire Record Society, 17, 1971); Parson and parish in eighteenth-century Surrey. Replies to bishops’ visitations, ed. W. R. Ward (Surrey Record Society, 35, 1994); Parson and parish in eighteenth-century Hampshire. Replies to bishops’ visitations (Hampshire Record Society, 13, 1995).)) The returns were often abstracted into survey volumes of Specula by the bishop or his officers, and, often, these survey books incorporated other material on the parish resulting from searches made on behalf on the bishop or one of his officials among the records of the diocese. ((Fewer of these are in print but see Speculum Dioeceseos Lincolnensis 1705-1723, ed. R. E. G. Cole (Lincoln Record Society, 4, 1913); W. G. D. Fletcher (ed.), ‘Documents Relating to Leicestershire and preserved in the Episcopal Registry at Lincoln’, ed. W. G. D. Fletcher, Associated Architectural Societies, Reports and Papers, 22.2 (1894), 227-365; The speculum of Archbishop Thomas Secker, ed. Jeremy Gregory (Church of England Record Society, 2, 1995). For a later period see The state of the bishopric of Worcester 1782-1808, ed. Mary Ransome (Worcestershire Historical Society, new series, 6, 1968), which includes illustrations showing the typical layout of these volumes.)) They can hardly have been compiled solely with the interests of a later generation of antiquarians and scholars in mind (though many of the bishops involved were scholarly men with antiquarian interests), ((In this connection see, for example, Miscellany accounts of the diocese of Carlisle with terriers delivered to me at my primary visitation, by William Nicolson, late bishop of Carlisle, ed. R. S. Ferguson (Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeological Society, 1877) and the volumes of Notitia Cestriensis of Bishop Francis Gastrell, which have been edited for the Chetham Society, 8, 19, 21, 22 (1845-50), and, for the Cumbrian parishes, The Cumbria parishes 1714-15 from Bishop Gastrell’s Notitia, ed. L. A. S. Butler (Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeological Society, Record Series, 12, 1998). These were compiled with the help of visitation returns, extracts from which have been printed in C. M. L. Bouch, Prelates and peoples of the Lake Counties (Kendal, 1948), pp. 333-5.)) and consideration of these records might tell us something of contemporary attitudes to visitation and to the problems of the parish clergy and parochial life as perceived by the higher clergy. Before tackling this problem it is as well to remind ourselves of the nature of these returns. In their final form the returns provided a detailed account of the pastoral work and problems of the parish as perceived by the incumbent, but they took some time to evolve. The development can be illustrated by the earliest known examples, those from the diocese of Lincoln beginning with William Wake’s primary visitation of 1706 and following successive visitations through to the primary visitation of his successor, Edmund Gibson, in 1718. In 1706 Wake sent out a brief, almost terse, letter to the parochial clergy of the diocese asking for replies to questions covering the following seven heads: (1) the status, value and extent of the living, (2) the patronage, (3) its population, (4) the denomination and number of protestant dissenters and whether they had any places of worship, (5) whether there were any charitable endowments for schools, hospitals and lectureships and how they were administered, (6) whether there were any resident gentry and finally, recalling the antiquarian spirit of the age, (7) whether there were any notable monuments in the church or antiquities in the parish. At subsequent visitations Wake gradually extended the range of questions asked so that they covered the pastoral work of the clergy and, in 1718, his successor subsumed these under further headings in a questionnaire which, with a few modifications, provided the model for subsequent visitations at Lincoln and elsewhere. ((Speculum, ed. Cole, pp. ii-iv. Wake’s Itinerary and visitation journal have been printed: Norman Sykes, ‘Bishop William Wake’s primary visitation of the diocese of Lincoln, 1706’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 2 (1951), pp. 190-206. )) Gibson had already, when archdeacon of Surrey, written a book on the conduct of archidiaconal visitation and was an authority on the procedural and legal matters involved. ((Edmund Gibson, Of visitations parochial and general. Being the charges deliver’d to the clergy of the archdeaconry of Surrey (1717). )) At Lincoln he was able also to give prominence to the pastoral aspect of visitation and, to Wake’s questions of 1706, were added additional ones covering pastoral provision. They included questions about residence on the cure or, in the case of non-residence, about licences and the provision of curates; about the provision of services in the parish church, requiring explanations for any departure from canonical norms; about the frequency of the administration of the Eucharist and the numbers receiving communion; about the provision and nature of catechizing in the parish; and, finally, about public penances performed by offenders against church law. ((Speculum, ed. Cole, pp. ii–iv. )) By the 1760s most dioceses had experienced questionnaires of this sort at one time or another and these sources have been ably exploited as a valuable record of the pastoral difficulties facing the eighteenth-century church. ((E.g., A. Warne, Church and society in eighteenth-century Devon (Newton Abbot, 1969); J. N. Caplan, ‘Visitation of the Diocese of Chichester in 1724’, Sussex Notes and Queries, 15 (1962), 289-95. The details of the return were entered into a survey book for the bishop, West Sussex Record Office, Ep.1/26/3.)) At this stage I do not want to discuss the contents of these returns and associated documents, but rather to consider some possible reasons for their introduction into the well-established process of episcopal visitation. Three features need to be noted about the questionnaires:

  • they were novel
  • they sought information of a general nature about the parish rather than specific information on particular offences or offenders against church law, and
  • they were directed to the clergy alone, and more specifically to the beneficed clergy. ((The letters were usually addressed to the incumbent in the earlier part of the period, later more generally to the minister. Of the returns from Oxford diocese in 1738, 28 out of 179 were made by curates serving in the place of absentee incumbents. Secker’s Visitation, ed. Lloyd-Jukes, passim. ))

Consideration of each of these features can throw light on the motives and expectations of the bishops who introduced the questionnaires and I will begin with the third: the fact that these questions were directed to the clergy alone. This was clearly a departure from earlier practice where articles were usually sent to both minister and churchwardens, who were required under oath to present any irregularities. ((A number of post-Restoration articles of enquiry have been printed in The second report of the commissioners appointed to inquire into the rubrics, orders and directions for regulating the course and conduct of public worship (1866), Appendix E, pp. 601-85.)) These articles of enquiry had, with few exceptions, fallen into a standard form and it is important to note that the new questionnaire did not replace the articles, but supplemented them. Visitation articles continued to be sent to churchwardens in the traditional judicial form and covering the same ground as before. ((Second report, pp. 601–85. By far the fullest of these are those sent out by Fleetwood for the diocese of St Asaph in 1710 which, though they covered very traditional ground, were made the occasion for lengthy discussion of the pastoral implications of the articles, see pp. 663-77. For Fleetwood, see below paras. 15–16. The standard form of articles was much briefer and is easily seen at pp. 615-19 which provide a basic text used on 27 occasions in several dioceses between 1662 and 1685 with only minor modifications. The importance of public discipline as a matter of pastoral responsibility was a constant theme at visitation sermons. See for example, J. Talbot, The judicial power of the church asserted (1707), esp. p. 33.)) What was the purpose of sending additional questionnaires to the clergy?

In the first place a number of bishops expressed dissatisfaction with the way in which churchwardens had been replying to visitation articles and had, like Francis Turner in his visitation charge for Ely in 1685, urged the clergy to share the burden of visitation presentment with the churchwardens so that a helpful and full return be made to the articles of enquiry. ((Francis Turner, A letter to the clergy of the diocese of Ely … preparatory to his visitation (Cambridge, 1686), p. 3. )) I shall return to this point later, in the present context it is sufficient to say that the evidence from visitation charges of the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries indicates that the bishops were coming to see that the cooperation of the parish clergy was essential if the traditional pattern of visitation was to be usefully maintained. ((Turner, Letter to the clergy, p. 4, ‘But further let me prevail with you, that publikly by your Preaching at this Time, and professedly, with regard to the approaching visitation, you would shew the people, they are obliged in conscience now to make their just open complaints, instead of odious reflections behind our backs, and that you would make your parish understand, what our Blessed Saviour intended, when He expressly commanded, “Tell it to the Church”.’ For Gibson, see Speculum, ed. Cole, p. iii. For lack of confidence in churchwardens presentments see the letter of Lloyd quoted at para. 10 below. )) In addition to, and perhaps more important than this rather negative stimulus at this stage, was the positive encouragement which bishops gave to the parish clergy to participate in visitations. Both Gibson, and others such as Secker who followed his example, saw the questionnaires as an opportunity to involve the parish clergy more directly in the visitation process and as a vehicle for discussion of church affairs at all levels from the parochial to the national. In his letter to the clergy of 1718 Gibson made it clear that he not only wished to have replies from them but he also intended ‘to make my own Enquiries and Observations, and to attend to such Questions and Representations as the clergy may have occasion to offer’. ((Speculum, ed. Cole, p. iv; Secker’s visitation, ed. Lloyd-Jukes, pp. 4-5. ))

However admirable such close interest in the affairs of the parish might appear to the student of the eighteenth-century church, contemporaries did not always see it in this light and, though no evidence has come to light implying large-scale resistance on the part of the parish clergy, ((Among the printed editions there is little evidence to suggest that failure to reply and delay were anything other than accidental. Secker, at Oxford in 1738, was punctilious and sent out a reminder to those clergy failing to reply within six weeks. Ten parishes were affected and all, except two within the peculiar jurisdiction of Banbury, replied promptly. In one case, at Ibeston, Secker accepted a verbatim report from the incumbent but in another, Stoke Lyne, he requested a fuller answer than the brief one first offered. He did not, however, challenge the equally brief return from Broughton Poggs, where the rector was also lord of the manor, Secker’s Visitation, ed. Lloyd-Jukes, pp. 8-9, 14, 20-1, 28-31, 42-3, 49-51, 70-1, 73-4, 83-5, 150-1. For some resentment at the alleged intrusive nature of Secker’s Oxford visitation see W. M. Marshall, ‘Episcopal Activity in the Hereford and Oxford Dioceses 1660-1760’, Midland History, 8 (1983), 117)) bishops were careful when introducing the questionnaires to stress that the information between the bishop and his parochial clergy passed as between fellow pastors in the church. It was a pastoral not a judicial device, and no oath was required from those making the returns. This pastoral emphasis is made clear in returns studied so far for several dioceses where they were introduced between 1706 and 1743. The bishops were at pains to stress that the replies from the parochial clergy were to be made to him or his secretary and that, in the early days at least, they did not form part of the normal administrative business passing through the diocesan registry.((See, for example, the prefatory letters of Herring and Claget for York and Exeter in 1743 and 1742; Borthwick Institute, Bp.V.1743/Ret.; Devon Record Office, Chanter 225a.)) The subsequent history of some of these returns confirms this view; the Lincoln returns for 1718 were taken from there to London by Edmund Gibson on his translation in 1723 and have only recently been united with the diocesan records; ((Speculum, ed. Cole, p. iv, n. i; National Register of Archives, Accessions to repositories 1982, (1983), p. 28.)) the York returns for 1743 and 1764 remained part of the personal archiepiscopal archive at Bishopthorpe Palace and were not filed with the visitation court books at the diocesan registry. ((B.I., Bp.V.1743/Ret.; V.1764/Ret.; the court books for these visitations were in the main series of visitation records, V.1743/CB; V.1764/CB. Other personal notes and details for the archbishops, including a volume entitled ‘Extracts and Observations from the abp’s visitations’ written in Herring’s hand, were also kept at Bishopthorpe. Bp.V/Misc. and Bp.C & P. IV. ))

This stress on the private nature of the information not only helped to establish a direct line of communication between the diocesan and his parochial clergy, it was also designed to encourage the clergy to be as frank as possible in their replies. Archbishop Herring, in 1743, encouraged the clergy to inform him of any particular difficulties which they had encountered in their work and to put forward any proposals of a general nature by which they might think ‘the Glory of God, and the Honour and Interest of our Established Church may be promoted, or the Government of this Diocese be better ordered’. ((Herring’s visitation, ed. Ollard and Walker, I, 3.)) Most of the clergy contented themselves with straightforward replies to the questions and some pious reflections on the state of the church. A few, however, took the archbishop at his word, and some must have made him regret making the suggestion. The incumbent of Kirby Irelyth eschewed the printed form and, in the process of answering the questions, covered four pages of closely written, if not closely argued, comment in describing the difficulties of his extensive parish and inveighing against ‘the sad Ignorance of too many, who have of late Years been adopted into the Clergy’. At Kildwick, perhaps more familiarly, the report on the parish was followed by a long letter from the hard-pressed curate assuring the bishop that ‘A competency in Life is all I desire’. ((Herring’s visitation, ed. Ollard and Walker, II, 98-102, 108-11.)) These are of course extreme examples, other clergy replied suggesting the use of particular works of pastoral divinity and the like, and Herring’s notes and correspondence following the visitation suggests that, in some circumstances at least, the needs and the suggestions of the parochial clergy were noted. ((B.I., Bp. C & P. IV.)) In such cases the clergy had good reason to feel that they had been provided with a source of direct access to the bishop.

Like most lines of communication, however, these also went in the opposite direction, and there must have been some apprehension among the parish clergy at such close scrutiny of matters not normally part of the visitation process. Certainly, in any diocese governed by Thomas Secker the clergy could anticipate close examination of their lives and opinions, not only on matters of church law but also on politics. Following his primary visitation of Bristol in 1735 Secker compiled a survey of the parishes in the diocese drawn from the information given in the parochial returns and from direct contact made in the course of visitation. Secker commented freely on the political allegiances of the parish clergy as well as on their pastoral work and personal life, amending his first impressions of the incumbent of Loders in Somerset as a ‘good’ man with the cautiously judicious note ‘I hear wrong tho’ not immoral things of him.’ ((Bristol Record Office, EP/A/2/2, pp. 110-11. The Dorset entries are discussed by J. H. Bettey, ‘Bishop Secker’s diocesan survey’, Dorset Natural History and Archaeological Society Proceedings, 95 (1973-4), 74-5. The survey was compiled largely from returns to a printed visitation questionnaire, of which only one example survives, Bristol R.O., EP/V/3 (Hampeston, 1735). See also Speculum, ed. Gregory, pp. xiv-xviii. )) In matters of pastoral work Secker paid particular attention to catechizing, a concern shared by archbishop Herring from the evidence of his handwritten notes on his York visitation. ((Bettey, ‘Secker’s diocesan survey’; Herring’s visitation, ed. Ollard and Walker, I, xvi; B.I., Bp.V/Misc. ))

With this degree of scrutiny taking place the private nature of the information received was stressed by all bishops, but Nicholas Claget of Exeter went one step further when he introduced the questionnaire into the diocese of Exeter in 1742. In a prefatory letter to the clergy, he wrote as follows:-

Good Brother

In order to obtain a proper knowledge of the present state of my Diocese which, I am sensible, I cannot have without the Assistance of my Reverend Brethren… You will oblige me by sending as full and particular answers as you can… And because it is possible that some man’s answer in this matter may be construed as an Accusation of himself, I promise that no such answer shall be used as evidence against any Person subscribing’. ((Devon R.O., Chanter 225a. It is perhaps worth noting here that Claget, like others such as Lloyd, Fleetwood and Herring, who were responsible for introducing these questionnaires into their English sees, had previously served in Welsh dioceses where they had used such questionnaires. Indeed Herring, and his successor Hutton, brought copies of the Bangor documents to York to use as precedents. B.I., Bp.V/Misc. It may have been the particular difficulties of administering a Welsh diocese, especially in the Welsh speaking areas of Bangor and St Asaph, which proved a stimulus to the use of this device. ))

With this major qualification of what had been for centuries one of the mainstays of the disciplinary as well as the administrative procedures of the established Church we can pass on to the second of our observations: that the answers required related to general areas of pastoral concern rather than to specific instances of breaches of church law. This marked a specific change in practice. It has been clearly demonstrated by the late G. V. Bennett and others that, in spite of archbishop’s Sancroft’s success in reviving ecclesiastical discipline after the Civil Wars and Interregnum, the system of church courts had suffered considerable damage. ((G. V. Bennett, The tory crisis in church and state 1688-1730. The career of Francis Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester (Oxford, 1975), pp. 6-10; idem, ‘Conflict in the church’, in Britain after the Glorious Revolution, ed. Geoffrey Holmes (1969), pp. 156-9. The following paragraph relies heavily on Dr Bennett’s work, but see also V. D. Sutch, Gilbert Sheldon, architect of Anglican survival 1640-1675 (The Hague, 1973), pp. 155-60 and Sykes, From Sheldon to Secker, pp. 20-2. )) Bishop Lloyd of Peterborough undertook his personal parochial visitation in 1680 with few illusions about the efficiency of the traditional visitatorial procedure, in a letter to Sancroft he wrote ‘the defects can never be known by the presentments of the churchwardens… They will forswear themselves over and over rather than bring expense on themselves and on their neighbours’. ((Quoted in Bennett, Tory crisis, p. 7. )) Such doubts were not new and had been expressed by ecclesiastical administrators in the years before the Civil War as well as after 1660 and the complaint represents a recurring theme in the history of the post-Reformation church. ((Examples of such complaints are legion. Statistical analysis of visitation effectiveness is provided in R. A. Marchant, The church under the law. Justice, administration and discipline in the diocese of York 1560-1640 (Cambridge, 1969), pp. 204-35.)) In 1687, however, the situation worsened considerably when the Declaration of Indulgence of James II struck at the roots of traditional church law and, by its suspension of ‘all manner of penal laws’ for all forms of nonconformity, turned decline into disaster for the correctional work of the church courts. ((Bennett, Tory crisis, pp. 9-12. The blow was struck chiefly at the correctional work of the courts; instance business was less severely affected. See B. D. Till, ‘The ecclesiastical courts of York 1660-1883: a study in decline’, typescript at B.I., figures at pp. 61, 62, 67, and for a small peculiar see M. G. Smith, Pastoral discipline and the church courts. The Hexham court 1680-1730 (Borthwick Papers 62, 1982). )) Almost immediately it became impossible to regulate attendance at church, and increasingly difficult to exercise traditional moral discipline over the laity. Despite the Act of Toleration of 1689 which sought to impose stringent conditions on church attendance from all who did not attend a meeting-house, the ground could not be regained. ((Bennett, Tory crisis, pp. 11-12. )) In the diocese of London, for example, almost all churchwardens’ presentments for the period between 1690 and 1740 returned an uninformative ‘omnia bene’. ((Tina Isaacs, ‘The Anglican hierarchy and the reformation of manners 1688-1738’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 33 (1982), 395. )) The bishops, in their articles and visitation charges, were insistent that the Act of Toleration gave a limited freedom and, among others, Charles Trimnell of Norwich reminded his churchwardens of that fact. He wrote to them before his visitation of 1709 telling them that the statute did not exempt dissenters ‘from being proceeded against for any other crimes of ecclesiastical cognizance; Nor does it protect any from the penalties of not coming to Church; but such as prove themselves to be of some separate Congregation; and consequently it is not, as it never was intended to be, any shelter to the careless and Profane’, but the evidence of his visitation court book suggests that the churchwardens retained a more lenient interpretation of the law. ((Charles Trimnell, A charge deliver’d to the clergy of the diocese of Norwich … at visitation … 1709 (1709), p. 28; Norfolk and Norwich R.O., VIS ct. bk. 1709. )) This had already been recognised by one of Trimnell’s archdeacons, Humphrey Prideaux, when he wrote ‘say what the judges can at the assizes, or the justices of peace at their sessions, or we at our visitations, no churchwarden or constable will present any for not going to church’. ((Quoted in Bennett, Tory crisis, p. 12. )) The involvement of statute law in this area was seen by some churchmen as an infringement of the proper authority of the church, but others were quick to encourage fresh initiatives, such as the ‘Societies for the Reformation of Manners’, involving secular authorities as a means to restoring discipline in a traditional area of concern. ((Isaacs, ‘Anglican hierarchy’, pp. 393-401. Sacheverell led the campaign among the tory clergy against the societies. It is worth noting, however, that Prideaux gave a role to assizes and quarter sessions. ))

Regardless of the effect upon discipline, the breakdown of the system of churchwardens’ presentments also meant that the bishops were devoid of information on the parishes within their dioceses. However tenuous the link had been between visitation presentments and the true state of affairs within the parishes before 1687, after that date it had surely been severed. Occasionally, as at Exeter in 1712, individual bishops included queries of a general nature in their articles to churchwardens, particularly about nonconformity, ((Devon R.O., Chanter 1503, a collection of printed visitation articles for the period 1677-1753. The innovation of 1712 was not repeated. Earlier Bishop Fell of Oxford had also directed particular questions about dissenters in 1682, but in his case they had been directed to the clergy, and details had been entered up in a diocese book and cases followed up after visitation through the archdeacons. Bishop Fell and nonconformity. Visitation documents from the Oxford diocese 1682-3, ed. Mary Clapinson (Oxfordshire Record Society, 52, 1980). )) but the replies from that quarter remained formal and uninformative. In such circumstances it became imperative that the bishops, if they were truly to be informed of the state of affairs in their dioceses, devise an alternative strategy. In so doing, they looked to the parish clergy to provide them with the information they required. That information was given in survey form rather than in terms of the naming of names and, as such, can be construed as forming part of the pastoral and administrative reform of the church in the face of a decline of its disciplinary jurisdiction. In this context the new procedures can be seen, in part at least, as a response by the established church to a change in external circumstances, particularly in the matter of church-state relationships. There was also, however, a growing awareness of problems affecting the internal administration of the church prior to the events of 1687 and 1689, and the need to reform and revivify visitation was but one of these strands. ((R. A. Beddard, ‘Sheldon and the Anglican recovery’, Historical Journal, 19 (1976), pp. 1013-16. )) In assessing the importance of this demand for reform we can usefully examine the question of the novelty of the procedures introduced by Wake in 1706.

The care which the bishops took to reassure the parish clergy about their intentions suggests that they were conscious of having introduced a new element into the process of visitation. Gibson was quite explicit on the point when he wrote to the clergy of Lincoln in 1718, ‘The Practice of Transmitting queries to the clergy which was begun by my pious and learned predecessor, is of such great and apparant use, that I should think myself much wanting, not only to myself but to my successors, if I did not continue it.’ ((Speculum, ed. Cole, p. ii. )) The practical value of having this information at his disposal was uppermost in Gibson’s mind and he clearly envisaged that it would form part of a regular system to be passed on from bishop to bishop. ((Though Gibson respected the privacy of the returns from Lincoln clergy by taking them off with him to London in 1723, he left his survey for his successor and thus started off a series of such volumes at Lincoln, the next one being compiled from Bishop Thomas’ visitation of 1743, Lincolnshire Record Office, SPE. 1,3. )) The hierarchy had previously sought information of a statistical nature about the state of the church in the parishes, but never in quite this systematic way. From the Reformation to the Civil Wars there had been periodic surveys of the state of the church but, on the whole, these surveys had been made separate from visitation. ((Such surveys were usually sent up to a central agency and not kept among the diocesan records, examples are found at Lambeth Palace Library, Miscellanae XII/37, 47, 56 and British Library, Harl. MS 594, 595. )) Occasionally a bishop such as Hooper of Gloucester in 1551 or Grindal of York in 1575 would seek information on the pastoral and personal qualities of the parish clergy during the course of visitation ((J. Gairdner, ‘Bishop Hooper’s Visitation of Gloucester, 1551’, English Historical Review, 19 (1904), 98-121; J. S. Purvis, Tudor parish documents (Cambridge, 1948), pp. 109-25. )) but, more generally, when bishops considered visitation they thought of its pastoral contribution as being subsumed within its disciplinary function. Before the Civil Wars most of the attempts at securing information on the state of the church in the parishes arose in the context of disputes between the defenders of the Established Church and their puritan opponents. In these disputes the condition of the Church in the parishes had always had a central place in the argument, and the need to provide information on those conditions was clearly the stimulus for the surveys of 1576, 1584, and 1603. ((For surveys in a particular diocese see W. J. Sheils, The puritans in the diocese of Peterborough 1558-1610 (Northamptonshire Record Society, 30, 1979), pp. 32-5, 75-6, 91-6. For 1603 see The diocesan population returns for 1563 and 1603, ed. Alan Dyer and D. M. Palliser (British Academy Records of Social and Economic History, n.s. 31, Oxford, 2004). )) These surveys were conducted at national, or provincial, level and were collated centrally, usually by the archbishop, so that their continued use as a source of information to a diocesan bishop was very limited. Although there was some similarity between the information required by such surveys and that asked for in visitation returns, the former were more limited in content and in purpose; ((These earlier surveys usually concentrated on the academic qualifications of the clergy, or on their preaching ability. Questions relating to the frequency of services were usually included in articles to churchwardens, see Visitation articles and injunctions 1536-1603, ed. W. H. Frere and W. M. Kennedy (Alcuin Club, 14–16, 1910) and Visitation articles and injunctions of the early Stuart church, ed. Kenneth Fincham (2 vols, Church of England Record Society, 1, 5, 1994, 1998). )) it would be wrong to see these efforts as the direct antecedents of the returns.

After 1660 new initiatives were introduced at both national and diocesan level, and the spirit behind these initiatives was more closely related to the returns. The most celebrated of these initiatives was, of course, the Compton census of 1676, a nationally organised survey designed to assess the strength of nonconformity and recusancy in the parishes. ((Carpenter, The protestant bishop, pp. 31-3; Anne Whiteman (ed.), The Compton census of 1676. A critical edition, ed. Anne Whiteman (British Academy, Records of Social and Economic History, 1986). )) The census harked back to earlier concerns both in its content and the manner of its compilation, but others broke new ground. Archbishop Sheldon urged the importance of frequent and regular visitation on his bishops and, in 1674, asked them to report back to him on their work in this area, at the same time writing to Seth Ward of Salisbury about the aims which a bishop should keep in mind when administering his diocese. He wrote ‘That the clergy [be] kept up to an unblamable conversation and regular conformity to the doctrine and discipline of the Church; that divine services and public prayer be performed with that duty and exactness which the Rubrick requires; and lastly that the duty of catechising be reinforced as the most effectual means to prevent the further increase of… sects and disorders amongst us’. ((Sutch, Sheldon, p. 159; Beddard, ‘Sheldon’, pp. 1013-16. )) Sheldon saw the disciplinary work of the church as essential to this, but also recognised the need for information. In 1665 he urged a general enquiry in his province about the extent of pluralism, and at Exeter this was accompanied by reports on parochial schools and lectures prompted by Bishop Ward. ((Devon R.O., Moger PR 362-4/33, and see Bishop Fell and Nonconformity, ed. Clapinson, pp. xiv, 40-7 for Oxford. )) Ward shared Sheldon’s antipathy towards nonconformists and, on his translation to Salisbury, was active in enforcing the law against them, going so far as to issue writs of significavit against dissenters in Salisbury in 1672. ((Sutch, Sheldon, pp. 171-2; W. H. Jones, Diocesan histories. Salisbury (1880), pp. 240-5; HMC, Various collections. Vol. IV (1907), p. 10. )) In order to inform himself better about his diocese Ward began to compile a commonplace volume which involved extensive researches among the records. The volume, which is entirely in the bishop’s own hand, touches on a wide variety of topics, including lists of gentry, JPs and MPs for counties and boroughs within the diocese. For our purposes two parts of the volume are of particular interest. The first comprises a history of the see and of the cathedral church and prebends, with a list of benefices in the diocese with names of the incumbents and a valuation of their income; this is followed by a survey of episcopal revenues and patronage. The second section includes a section of some forty folios giving details of the benefices in the diocese, their patronage, the incumbents serving them, and their value, to which was added information gained at visitation. ((HMC, Various collections. Vol. IV (1907), pp. 9–10. )) The nature of that information can be gauged from the comment of Ward’s biographer, who describes the large volume with ‘the names of all the incumbents, with their several qualifications as to conformity or non-conformity, learning or ignorance, peaceable or contentious conversation, orthodox or heretical opinion, good or scandalous lives, for all of which he had formed peculiar marks’. ((S. H. Cassan, Lives and memoirs of the bishops of Sherborne and Salisbury (3 vols, London, 1824), III, 31, quoting the biography of Walter Pope, who had resided in Ward’s household. )) In addition Ward had volumes prepared in advance of his visitations of 1680 and 1683 in which the parishes were listed and space left for details of the clergy and their quality, and which included columns headed ‘Churches’, ‘Terriers’, and ‘Registers’. On occasion other details were added, chiefly on the state of church fabric. Ward’s successor, Gilbert Burnet, used the same device but less thoroughly, and the series really got going in the 1720s under Bishop Hoadly, who had previously introduced questionnaires into the diocese of Hereford. Though Ward’s motives in compiling the volume differed from those of later bishops, these Specula of the diocese, combining as they did the results of archival research with the findings of contemporary investigation, mark an important and more generalized development in episcopal administration. ((P. Steward, Guide to the record offices. IV: Diocesan records (Wiltshire County Council, 1973), pp. 39-40; Marshall, ‘Episcopal activity’, p. 116. ))

The adjective episcopal must be used advisedly here, for it needs to be stressed that these compilations owed their existence to individual initiatives by some bishops and their officers, and the timing of their appearance varied from place to place. ((I have been unable to trace any general recommendation of the use of these questionnaires from any central authority. It will be clear from what follows that personal contacts were important. )) As in the case of Ward’s volume they were usually written by the bishop himself, who sometimes employed antiquarians or, like archbishop Sharp at York, borrowed wholesale the work of antiquarian scholars, re-ordering the material to suit his own purpose. ((B.I., Bp. Dio.1-3; A. Tindal Hart, The life and times of John Sharp, archbishop of York (1949), pp. 325-31. )) And what was that purpose? The antiquarian nature of the endeavour ought not to obscure its practical utility. The records of the Established Church had suffered a good deal of disruption and some loss during the Civil Wars and Interregnum, with a resulting uncertainty about the rights and privileges attached to some ecclesiastical livings. ((For the loss of records at Ely see D. M. Owen, A catalogue of the records of the bishop and archdeacon of Ely (1971), p. viii, and for the chapter, idem, ‘Bringing home the records: the recovery of the Ely chapter muniments at the Restoration’, Archives, 8 (1968), 123-9. )) There was, therefore, in some dioceses, a practical need to make the records available in accessible form if the information necessary for the formulation of policy was to be forthcoming. In one particular area, that involving the need to augment poor livings, such information was essential and much of the detail gathered in these earlier surveys was financial in nature. ((Surveys giving details of values of livings often predate those which incorporate visitation material, e.g. Cambridge University Library, Ely Diocesan Records, A/6/3; B/8/1, and see Turner, A letter to the clergy, p. 18, where he requests them to bring in a new terrier of their glebe as many of the old ones had been lost in the Civil War. At Oxford Fell incorporated visitation data straight away in 1682. Bishop Fell, ed. Clapinson, pp. xxxiii-xxxiv. )) In this way bishops were able to establish where pastoral responsibilities exceeded financial provision and, in particular parishes, to take some remedial action. This sort of improvement remained piece-meal and haphazard until a national policy was formulated with the foundation of Queen Anne’s Bounty in 1704 and, even then, progress remained slow for some time. ((G. F. A. Best, Temporal pillars (Cambridge, 1964), pp. 13-21; J. H. Pruett, The parish clergy under the later Stuarts (Urbana, Ill., 1978), pp. 95-100 discusses the inequality of clerical incomes; I. M. Green, ‘The first years of Queen Anne’s Bounty’, in Princes and Paupers in the English Church, 1500-1800, ed. R. O’Day and F. Heal (Leicester, 1981), pp. 231-49. )) With this qualification in mind individual instances of improvement can be pointed to. Sharp’s survey of the diocese of York compiled c.1694 was one of the sources which revealed that the extensive parish of Helmsley was under-endowed and poorly provided. In 1698 the archbishop secured an augmentation to the living and, at the same time, promptly despatched a letter to the vicar asking for details of the resulting pastoral improvements in terms of the frequency of services and the provision of catechising. Happily the incumbent was able to give a satisfactory reply. ((Gloucestershire County Record Office, D3549/78/4/J/13–14. ))

The majority of these surveys did not progress further than concerning themselves with the information which could be obtained from archival sources and with details of financial arrangements in the parishes. It was Wake’s initiative of 1706 at Lincoln which, it has been assumed, extended the scope of the enquiry into areas of more immediately pastoral concern and which led to visitation being used as the principal source of information. ((Speculum, ed. Cole, p. ii. )) There had, however, been some precedents for extending the scope of visitation. Ward, clearly, must have gleaned some of the information on his Salisbury clergy through informal contacts either with the incumbents themselves of through archdeacons and other officials. ((H.M.C., Various Collections IV, p. 10, and see Bishop Fell, ed. Clapinson, for Oxford in 1682. )) This may have happened elsewhere also and is, perhaps, unremarkable. What is more remarkable is the decision of William Lloyd to conduct a personal parochial visitation of Peterborough diocese in 1680, and that of his namesake on the episcopal bench to send out instructions to the clergy of the diocese of St Asaph to report on their parishes, also in 1680. Lloyd’s letter went out as ‘Directions to a Notitia of his Diocese’ among which information was required under each parish as to the names of householders and the numbers in each family; the names of all recusants and excommunicates, and the sums of money left for charitable uses ‘with all the heads of those things which you think fit to impart for my information, or wherein you desire my advice and assistance in matters belonging to the church.’ The information thus received was written up by him into a volume, but the value of Lloyd’s initiative in diocesan administration was diminished by the stormy and negligent epsicopate of his successor, Edward Jones. The initiative was, however, followed up on the arrival of William Fleetwood at St Asaph, whose primary visitation charge of 1710 asked the clergy to report on non-residence and on preaching and to supply him with a brief description of their parish and church, its dedication, its monuments, any superstitious images, and details of tithing customs and tithe holders. The information in Lloyd’s original volume was thenceforward updated and continued by his and Fleetwood’s successors and was eventually summarised by another scholarly bishop, Thomas Tanner, in 1745. ((See above, paras 0, 00. D. R. Thomas, Diocesan Histories, St Asaph (1888), pp. 89–90, 92-5, and note Fleetwood’s articles at n. 13 above. Tanner had himself done considerable work on the indexing of the Norwich diocesan records whilst chancellor of the diocese and episcopal chaplain, Norfolk and Norwich Record Office, Reg. 30/1; 31/2. ))

The mention of Fleetwood leads naturally from St Asaph to Ely, the see to which he was translated in 1714. ((See entry in The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, ed. H. C. G. Matthew and B. Harrison (Oxford, 2004). )) It is at Ely that we get the clearest evidence to show that visitation was used to acquire detailed information on the parishes before the Glorious Revolution, and that this concern for knowledge reflected a strong pastoral commitment as well as an awareness of the need for discipline. The evidence rests in the letter written by the Tory bishop Francis Turner to the clergy of the diocese before his primary visitation of 1685 in which he asked them to compile a ‘Notitia of your parish… an account of every family expressing the Christian and surname of the housekeeper, the number and names of all persons above sixteen years old, noting those who had been confirmed… For this being easily revised and produced at Confirmation, will also serve to prevent the common irregular practices of men, women and children coming over and over again to be confirmed; and will presently show the Minister whom he ought to instruct and prepare for Confirmation. This list will also be very serviceable and being filled up or alter’d (as your parish changes) from time to time, will always lay before you the state of that Cure of Souls which, in the Name of God, was at your institution committed to your charge’. ((Turner, A Letter to the Clergy, p. 9. )) How far Turner used this information himself is a matter for conjecture; the implication of the letter is that the notitia was to be retained by the parochial clergy as an aid to their pastoral work. However, some of the information must have been gathered in and tabulated, for when Fleetwood came to compile a survey of the diocese in 1714 he incorporated some of the earlier information. ((C.U.L., EDR A/6/3, gives details drawn from Turner’s visitation and from the Compton Census; annotations continued to be made up to 1722 (see f. 12v, entry for Chesterton). It was clearly a working document. )) Fleetwood’s survey was compiled largely from the diocesan records, but was annotated and kept up to date by him in noting matters such as changes of incumbent. Details from Fleetwood’s volume were, in turn, copied out for his successor at Ely, Thomas Greene, who later added, in his own hand, details on each parish; its size, the strength of nonconformity, the provision of schools and charities, the frequency of services and sacraments, and the arrangements for catechizing as provided at his second visitation of 1728. ((C.U.L, EDR B/8/1, the entries begin ‘Return’d at my 2d visit. 1728’. )) Thus over a period of 40 years the Ely material illustrates the development of these survey volumes or specula to the stage where they provided a store of information on parochial and pastoral conditions regularly brought up to date, which could be of great value in improving the administration and spiritual welfare of the diocese. With varying degrees of completeness such surveys are found in most diocese by 1760 and, in their compilation, the clergy returns at visitation proved to be the keystone.

Wake’s initiative was, therefore, not only a response to the change in church-state relations, particularly in the area of law, brought on by the events of 1687 and 1689, but owed a lot to an earlier generation of bishops concerned to rebuild the Church after 1660. The embattled determination of Sheldon and Ward to enforce church discipline was modified in a pastoral direction by Tory bishops such as Turner and Compton after about 1680 and, though they still saw discipline as an essential tool in the preservation of the Church, this group around Sancroft had already sought to make visitation a more useful source of information on diocesan affairs and a greater opportunity to meet and know the parish clergy. Indeed it was essential if church discipline was to remain free of interference from secular authorities. ((R. A. Beddard, ‘The Commission for Ecclesiastical Promotions, 1681-4: An Instrument of Tory Reaction’, Historical Journal, 19 (1976), 20-30 discusses episcopal appointments; Bennett, ‘Conflict in the Church’, pp. 156-8. )) Having given due acknowledgment to the aspirations of these precursors of Wake and to the bishops who later followed his initiative, the question remains as to how effective and useful was this initiative in improving episcopal supervision of the diocese.

The answer, of course, varied from individual to individual and diocese to diocese, but a few general remarks can be made. Firstly it is clear that the bishops were not simply going through the motions, many of them annotated the returns and tabulated the findings, and specific examples of direct action can be cited. ((E.g. Herring’s response to the return from Brandsby in 1743. The original return was made by the curate and had attached, in the same hand, a request from the churchwardens that the curate be given a greater allowance by the non-resident rector, who also held the neighbouring living of Terrington. The archbishop wrote to the rector in October 1743, receiving a prompt reply. The archbishop’s concern may have been aroused by the large number of papists in the parish. Herring’s Visitation, ed. Ollard and Walker, II, 82-5. Herring may have learnt of the value of these questionnaires from Fleetwood, whose protégé he had been. )) It is also true that these compilations were consulted by later bishops and brought up to date by them in many dioceses. Thus, at best, the visitation returns could, as at Ely, become part of the equipment essential to the running of a diocese. Other sees were not so fortunate, however and, as at St Asaph, any advantage could be easily frittered away by a negligent successor. The care with which John Sharp compiled his volumes of specula for York in the 1690s was not reflected in the career of Lancelot Blackburne who, following his primary visitation in 1726 and 1727, failed to conduct any further visitation of the diocese and allowed that responsibility along with other episcopal functions such as the consecration of churches, to devolve on others such as Martin Benson, bishop of Gloucester. ((Blackburne’s contemporary career was subject to scandalous speculation. See N. Sykes, ‘The Buccaneer Bishop, Lancelot Blackburne’, Church Quarterly Review, VOL NO? (1940), 81-100. Herring’s Visitation, ed. Ollard and Walker, I, p. xxii. See Glos. R.O., G.D.R. 393A for Benson’s work in other dioceses. During the 1730s Benson, who was Secker’s brother-in-law, began the series of specula for his own diocese having one copied out for his own use (G.D.R. 381A) and passing it on to his successors who used it as a source until at least 1769 when it was indexed by Bishop Warburton. )) Sharp’s survey, however, continued to be used and annotated by his successors and their officers, and the information was abstracted to form the basis of later specula. In 1713 Thomas Lamplugh, a grandson of Sharp’s predecessor as archbishop and himself a canon of the Minster as prebend of Knaresborough, ((J. Foster, Alumni Oxoniensis 1500-1714 (repr. 1968), III, 873; Le Neve: Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae 1541-1857. IV: York, ed. J. Horn and D. M. Smith (1975), p. 45. )) compiled a survey of the diocese giving details of parish, income, clergy and patrons. ((B.I., Bp.Dio.5. )) This survey was updated during the pontificates of Sharp’s two successors and another survey, paying particular attention to the poorer livings in the diocese, was compiled by one of Blackburne’s officials. ((B.I., Bp.Dio.6. This was at least consulted by Blackburne, who noted after an account of the prebends of Southwell: ‘This Acct was the best that Mr Berdmore could give me, but not without some mistakes L. E.’ )) The precedent set by Sharp at diocesan level was followed at the archidiaconal level in 1738 by Thomas Hayter, archdeacon of York and chaplain and secretary to Blackburne, who ordered a transcript of Sharp’s original manuscript to be made in so far as it concerned his archdeaconry and had entries completed up to the time of compilation. ((B.I., Bp.Dio.10. This volume fits in with other volumes surveying the archiepiscopal estates and compiled from Sharp’s surveys, also in 1738, CC.Ab.2/4, 5; 3/6-10. The latest entry in the updating refers to an institution in 1738. For Hayter see Oxford DNB. )) Hayter was promoted to the bishopric of Norwich in 1749 and it may be no accident that the earliest surviving survey books for that diocese incorporate material gathered during his visitation in 1753. ((N.N.R.O., Diocesan Records VSM/9. This volume includes detailed notes, drawn from visitation, for five deaneries in the archdeaconry of Norwich. It was probably at this date also that detailed notes of licences issued to surgeons, schoolmasters, curates, and midwives were also entered into volumes in parish order, VSM/1. )) Hayter, having introduced the printed questionnaire to his new diocese, later recalled his survey in York and handed over the volume to archbishop Drummond on the latter’s translation in 1761. ((B.I., Bp. Dio.10, note in Drummond’s hand: ‘I rec’d this book from Bp. Hayter, Nov. 9, 1761’. ))

It was to be over two years before Drummond undertook his primary visitation at York but, as part of his preparation, he sent out to the parish clergy a fresh set of questions in 1764, based closely on those issued by Herring twenty-one years before. ((B.I., Bp. Dio.10; Bp.V.1743/Ret. Herring’s successor, Matthew Hutton, had also been at Bangor and issued questionnaires to his clergy while there. On arriving at York, however, he did not continue the practice, noting on the fly-leaf of Herring’s returns, ‘I have not found any material variation from the answers in these four volumes, either upon my own enquiry, or by the Returns of the Archdeacons after the visitations. Complaints of the increase of Methodism have been the chief. M.Eb. 1756’. Hutton’s comment not only shows the complacent face of the Hanoverian episcopate, but serves to remind us that not all bishops were convinced as to the utility of the device. He claimed, however, to have examined the volumes at least and Drummond’s returns of 1764 were only to confirm the accuracy of his assessment of methodism. V.1764/Ret.)) By the 1760s similar questionnaires had been issued in most dioceses and their appearance at visitation, if not a regular or essential part of the process, had become a normal part of church life. The replies which they elicited have proved a rich source for the historians of the eighteenth-century church, ((National Church in Local Perspective, ed. Gregory and Chamberlain, passim, esp. the chapter by Marshall on Oxford and Hereford. )) but the extent to which they were used by the bishops and, later, by diocesan officials as a readily available corpus of information on the church in their care had not always been given full due. The survival and continuing annotations of the survey books indicates their practical utility. The formulation of the questions reveals a church anxious to fulfil its pastoral obligations and concerned to keep itself properly informed about its deficiencies. Their existence has wider implications and suggests an Established Church determined to play a key role in the ‘improvement’ of society within a confessional state, broadly defined, with more than a passing similarity to the model outlined by Jonathan Clark. ((J. C. D. Clark, English society, 1688-1832 (Cambridge, 1885), esp. pp. 216-35; and note the judgment of Gregory, Restoration, reform and reformation, p.286. )) The events of the Glorious Revolution were an important feature of the story, but these initiatives were not introduced solely in a defensive mode. There is enough evidence to show that, in some quarters at least, the leaders of the late-seventeenth-century church were working towards some sort of reforms along these lines in response to their own high-minded view of the Church’s social and political role as well as its ecclesiastical responsibilities, and were not solely responding to long term pressure in the parishes from dissent and disaffection. Ambition outran achievement, but the English bishops were not alone in their concerns and their initiatives in this respect reflected more general developments within the post-Tridentine churches on the continent. The Borromean model of episcopal government was embraced by the French episcopate and, among other initiatives, resulted in similar questionnaires being directed by the bishops to their parochial clergy as part of their administrative reforms. The impact of these changes has resulted in the eighteenth century being characterised as ‘a great epoch for visitations’ within the Gallican Church. ((I am grateful to Prof. Mark Venard of the University of Rouen for discussion of this point. For more recent discussion see J. L. McManners, Church and society in eighteenth-century France (2 vols, Oxford, 1998), I, 262-79, esp. pp. 270-1, and A. Forrestal, Fathers, pastors and kings. Visions of episcopacy in seventeenth-century France (Manchester, 2004), pp. 190-2. )) It is easy to underestimate the achievement of the Anglican episcopate but, in most dioceses, the eighteenth-century church was visited regularly by its bishops, many of whom had adopted a procedure which drew the parochial clergy more closely into the work of visitation and, in most cases, made the event more than simply an occasion for social contact between the bishop and his parochial ministers. Though no longer an essentially disciplinary procedure, visitation became the process through which detailed information on the character and problems of the local churches could be identified and addressed and the vehicle by which these concerns could be fed into policy making at both diocesan and national level.

W. J. Sheils

W. J. (Bill) Sheils is professor emeritus in History at the University of York. In 2012 a festschrift, edited by Adam Morton and Nadine Lewyck, Getting Along? Religious Identities and Confessional Relations in Early Modern England – Essays in Honour of Professor W. J. Sheils was published in the St. Andrews Studies in Reformation History series.

Acknowledgments

The research for this article was supported by a grant from the British Academy, for which I am grateful. An earlier version was read at the Strasbourg meeting of the Commission International d’Histoire Ecclésiastique Comparée in September 1983 and was improved by comments made on that occasion.