As in the reign of Charles II., so in the reign of William III., the office of chaplain in the families of the great was not enviable. The salary was small, the position undignified, the treatment often disrespectful, and the means of usefulness limited and questionable. In the Athenian Oracle, the chaplain of a family not very regular or religious—forced to see Misses drinking and gaming, and afraid to open his mouth on the subject—complains of the miseries of his situation; he inquires what he ought to do, so as neither to betray religion nor give offence. He could not believe that to say grace and read prayers, when his patron was at leisure, constituted his duty, yet he found his brethren thought they had done enough when they had done no more than that.[420] Thomas Wilson, afterwards Bishop of Sodor and Man, certainly took a different view, for when chaplain and tutor to Lord Derby, he, with commendable faithfulness, rebuked his pupil’s extravagance, so as to restore his reputation and relieve his creditors. Once, as the young nobleman was about to sign his name, he felt some melted sealing-wax dropped on his finger by this eccentric mentor, who remarked, that the pain ought to impress him with a resolution never to sign what he had never examined.[421]
Clerical costume is a trifle worth only a passing sentence, and it may be observed that it remained the same after the Revolution as before. But Archbishop Tillotson introduced a novelty. He is the first Prelate represented in a wig. The wig is of moderate dimensions, and not much unlike a head of natural hair. It is curious to find him remarking upon this innovation in one of his sermons. “I can remember, since the wearing the hair below the ears was looked upon as a sin of the first magnitude; and when ministers generally, whatever their text was, did either find or make occasion to reprove the great sin of long hair; and if they saw anyone in the congregation guilty in that kind, they would point him out particularly, and let fly at him with great zeal.”[422]
Partly as the result of causes at work ever since the Restoration—such as the poverty, the imperfect education, and the unexemplary character of many incumbents and curates—the Clergy, as a class, were in low esteem. What has been related of the profession in the reign of Charles II. produced effects which lasted long, and the conduct of a number of Constitutionalists, as well as of Jacobites, contributed to deepen the unpopularity of the order. Good men, lamenting the evils of the age, traced to them this state of feeling, and Robert Nelson speaks of the great contempt of the Clergy, than which he thought nothing could be a greater evidence of the decayed state of religion.[423]
STATE OF SOCIETY.
Whatever may be the relation between social corruption and clerical unpopularity, it is certain the two things co-existed. Nelson deplored a decay of the spirit and life of devotion;[424] Thoresby declared that God seemed angry with the nation, as well He might, and so hid counsel from men, and left them to take such courses as would be neither for their own nor the public good;[425] and Burnet relates, that profane wits were delighted at the circulation of books against the Trinity; that it became a common thing to treat mysteries in religion as priestly contrivances; and that, under cover of popular expressions, the enemies of religion vented their impieties.[426] Patrick lamented the prevalent coldness and carelessness in religion, “scarce an handful of people appearing in many churches at Divine Service, when the playhouses were crowded every day with numerous spectators;”[427] and John Norris referred to the decay of Christian piety and the universal corruption of manners. Christ seemed to him, asleep in the sacred vessel, while the tempest raged, and the waves almost overwhelmed the bark. Students of prophecy, regarding the state of Christianity as anti-christianized, anticipated the outpouring of the vials of wrath, the breaking-up of Christendom, and the replacement of God’s chosen people, the Jews, on the ruins of the Gentile Church.[428]
Profane swearing so far prevailed, that it is said in many circles a man’s discourse was hardly agreeable without it;[429] and it is remarkable that the instances given of John Howe’s courtesy, and the wisdom with which he administered reproof, relates to the frequent utterance of oaths. On one occasion, a gentleman addicted to this practice expatiated at great length on the merits of Charles I. Howe remarked that in his enumeration of the excellencies of the unfortunate Sovereign, he had omitted one—that he was never known to utter an oath in common discourse. On another occasion, he heard two gentlemen in the street damning each other. The Divine, taking off his hat with a polite bow, exclaimed, “I pray God save you both!” Meeting a nobleman in the park, who, in speaking of the Occasional Conformity Bill, burst into a rage and said, “Damn the wretches! for they are mad, and will bring us all into confusion!” Howe replied, “My Lord, it is a great satisfaction to us, who in all affairs of this nature desire to look upwards, that there is a God who governs the world, to whom we can leave the issues and events of things; and we are satisfied, and may thereupon be easy, that He will not fail in due time of making a suitable retribution to all, according to their present carriage. And this great Ruler of the world, my Lord, has among other things also declared, He will make a difference between him that sweareth and him that feareth an oath.” “Sir, I thank you for your freedom,” was the reply; “I understand your meaning: I shall endeavour to make a good use of it.” “My Lord,” added Howe, “I have a great deal more reason to thank your Lordship for saving me the most difficult part of a discourse, which is the application.”[430]
Intemperance, increasing from the time of the Restoration, continued to extend its curses towards the close of the eighteenth century; old public-houses attracted more customers than ever, and many new ones were opened, the money spent in this way by the lower classes reaching an incredible amount.[431] Sober people lamented that their neighbours were, with temperance, losing also that kindliness of temper which had been prevalent amongst Englishmen.
SUPERSTITION.
The shock of an earthquake in September, 1692, alarmed the nation, and made “those who studied apocalyptical matters imagine that the end of the world drew near.” Burnet tells us it brought people “to more of an outward face of virtue and sobriety;” but, in his apprehension, they “became deeply corrupted in principle; a disbelief of revealed religion, and a profane mocking at the Christian faith and the mysteries of it, became avowed and scandalous.” Orders were given to execute the laws against drunkenness, swearing, and the profanation of the Lord’s-day; and, consequently, loud complaints arose of Puritanical regulations, savouring of John Knox’s doctrine and discipline. Blame for this was laid on the Bishop of Salisbury’s shoulders; and to make the whole thing appear ridiculous, a noble commentator on the right reverend historian, relates that hackney-coaches were not allowed to be used on the Sabbath, and constables were directed to take away pies and puddings from anybody who might be carrying them through the streets.[432]
Popular opinion in reference to supernatural agencies requires some notice, and presents signs of both mental stagnation and mental progress. Many were in a state of superstition as immovable as that of their fathers, believing in the reality, and smitten with the terrors, of diabolical possession and infernal witchcraft. Even towards the end of William’s reign, the diocese of Worcester was infected with this kind of faith; and the Bishop, Dr. Lloyd—who succeeded Stillingfleet—urged his Clergy to preach against errors respecting Satanic agency, indicating to them his own views on the subject. He did not doubt the extraordinary power of the Devil over heathen nations in ancient and modern times; but he thought the Gospel had diminished his power; that those who were in the covenant of grace could not be injured by him, either in their persons, their possessions, or their children; nevertheless he admitted that a man, by profligacy, might yield himself to the great enemy, but could not receive from him supernatural help to hurt anybody else.[433]