The Theology and Ecclesiology of the Prayer Book Crisis, 1906–1928 [1st ed. 2019] 978-3-030-27129-9, 978-3-030-27130-5

Table of contents :
Front Matter ....Pages i-ix
Introduction (Dan D. Cruickshank)....Pages 1-9
The Revision Process in Convocation, 1906–1920 (Dan D. Cruickshank)....Pages 11-67
Before the Assembly and Parliament, 1920–1928 (Dan D. Cruickshank)....Pages 69-119
Conclusion (Dan D. Cruickshank)....Pages 121-124
Back Matter ....Pages 125-127

Citation preview

CHRISTIANITIES IN THE TRANS-ATLANTIC WORLD

The Theology and Ecclesiology of the Prayer Book Crisis, 1906–1928

Dan D. Cruickshank

Christianities in the Trans-Atlantic World Series Editors Crawford Gribben Department of History Queen’s University Belfast Belfast, UK Scott Spurlock Department of Theology and Religious Studies University of Glasgow Glasgow, UK

Building upon the recent recovery of interest in religion in the early modern trans-Atlantic world, this series offers fresh, lively and inter-­disciplinary perspectives on the broad view of its subject. Books in the series will work strategically and systematically to address major but under-studied or overly simplified themes in the religious and cultural history of the trans-­ Atlantic. The series editorial board includes David Bebbington (University of Stirling), John Coffey (University of Leicester), Susan Hardman Moore (University of Edinburgh), Andrew Holmes (Queen’s University Belfast), John Morrill (University of Cambridge), Richard Muller (Calvin Theological Seminary), Mark Noll (University of Notre Dame), Dana L.  Robert (Boston University) and Arthur Williamson (California State University, Sacramento). More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14892

Dan D. Cruickshank

The Theology and Ecclesiology of the Prayer Book Crisis, 1906–1928

Dan D. Cruickshank University of Glasgow Glasgow, UK

Christianities in the Trans-Atlantic World ISBN 978-3-030-27129-9    ISBN 978-3-030-27130-5 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-27130-5 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: Basotxerri / Alamy Stock Photo This Palgrave Pivot imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

To my parents, Anne Bell and Chae Cruickshank.

Acknowledgements

This book started life as a Master’s thesis, so firstly my thanks go to my supervisors Charlotte Methuen and George Pattison. Charlotte, as my primary supervisor, had the unenviable task of guiding me through my master’s, and for that I am truly grateful. My debt of gratitude stretches beyond that, as she has been both a great pastoral and academic support during a period of uncertainty in my life. If my work can reflect a sliver of her own, then I will feel great fulfilment academically. But if in my own career I can be as compassionate, caring, and considerate as her towards my own students, I will have gained the greater treasure. I must also thank the staff of the National Library of Scotland, who helped me discover their collection of the records of both Convocations and the National Assembly. The staff at Lambeth Palace Library also provided great assistance when studying the Archbishops’ Papers and the minutes of the Bishops’ Meetings. On a personal level I must thank my parents, Anne Bell and Chae Cruickshank. Their financial help has enabled me to engage in this study. My Mum has also listened dutifully to my endless complaining over the phone, and my Dad has seen fit to send me supplies to help get me through. This book is dedicated to them, a small token in view of their love and support over the years. My thanks also go to my friends Hayley Cadel and Lee Johnston for their support. Finally, I must thank my long-suffering partner, Dr. Victoria Henderson. Somehow she has managed to be a constant support to me whilst at the same time completing her own PhD. No atomic physicist has ever listened vii

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to so much about historic liturgical debates in the Church of England. To do so whilst at the same time writing her own thesis and then completing her viva takes someone of immense patience. She has made me laugh and smile at times of stress and reminded me of the world outside the library when it was most needed. For all this, and thousands more things that words could never truly express, I am truly grateful. Without her constant and unending love, not a word of this book would have been written. Hopefully she knows how much I love her too.

Contents

1 Introduction  1 2 The Revision Process in Convocation, 1906–1920  11 3 Before the Assembly and Parliament, 1920–1928  69 4 Conclusion121 Index125

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Abstract  The introduction surveys the extent to which the Prayer Book crisis is discussed in contemporary literature. Through this it draws the conclusion that although the Prayer Book crisis is mentioned in scholarship of the history of the Church of England in the twentieth century, it is often done so with minimal content. The introduction then presents a literature review of the main studies of the Prayer Book crisis, demonstrating that although all five of them have their strengths, none provides a comprehensive overview of the two-decade-long revision process. Finally, it concludes by stressing the importance of ecclesiological debates that occurred within the revision process, linking these debates to the current constitutional set-up of the Church of England. Keywords  Book of Common Prayer • Church of England • Ecclesiology • Liturgical revision The Prayer Book crisis of 1927–1928 exists in the knowledge of many in the Church of England in a place between ignorance and folklore. Some in the Church are aware that in the third decade of the twentieth century, the Church of England attempted to get a new Book of Common Prayer through Parliament. What this new book looked like is something very few are aware of. Even to ecclesiastical historians and liturgists the issue remains somewhat of an enigma. Jeremy Morris in The Church in the © The Author(s) 2019 D. D. Cruickshank, The Theology and Ecclesiology of the Prayer Book Crisis, 1906–1928, Christianities in the Trans-Atlantic World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-27130-5_1

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Modern Age briefly mentions the crisis, specifically its ecclesiological implications: “Having gained some legislative autonomy immediately after the First World War, English Anglicans were shocked to find they had no redress when parliament prevented them from reforming their liturgy in 1928.”1 In the fourth volume of The Oxford History of Anglicanism, which covers contemporary Anglicanism, the crisis is not mentioned in Mark Chapman’s survey of Anglican theology from 1910 to 2000,2 and in Louis Weil’s chapter on liturgical renewal in the twentieth century, the Revised Book of 1927 is briefly mentioned as attempting “to create new liturgical models using traditional language”, resulting in a failed book, the only legacy of which was to serve as an example of what liturgy should not look like.3 The Books of 1927 and 1928, to many historians, are the great known unknown of the first part of the twentieth century, briefly studied by some, but mentioned only in passing, resulting in a great unknown event. This study will attempt to make more of that unknown known. It will seek to understand the revision process of over two decades. Paul Avis has written about how “the prayer book serves not only as a resource for worship and a mark of identity, but also has profound ecclesiological and doctrinal significance”.4 This study will demonstrate how true Avis’ statement is by exploring issues of doctrine and ecclesiology. By taking liturgical theology seriously, it will show how liturgical changes signalled doctrinal shifts. Through the revision process, it will show the doctrine that was being proposed, arguing that Anglican doctrinal conformity was being expanded to encompass elements of Ritualism and Anglo-Catholicism. Secondly it will consider the ecclesiological discussions that the revision process created and nurtured. It will demonstrate that the revision process was integral in establishing a consensus for a radical realignment in Church-State relationships, which would lead to the Enabling Bill and the formation of the National Assembly of the Church of England. Limiting itself to the immediate reaction to the rejection, it will show how Parliament’s rejection of the two revised books led to even more radical ecclesiological thinking in the Church. Studies of the Prayer Book crisis, like studies of much of the Church of England’s history in the twentieth century, are not as prevalent as might be assumed. There are five main studies of the crisis: George Bell’s biography of Randall Davidson (1952),5 J.D.  Martell’s Master’s thesis on the final years of the crisis (1974),6 Ronald Jasper’s consideration of the crisis in his Development of the Anglican Liturgy (1989),7 Donald Gray’s brief two-part study of the revision process written for the Alcuin Club (2005–

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2006),8 and John Maiden’s study of the crisis during its stage in Parliament (2009).9 In contrast to these studies, this study will interrogate the theology behind the process. The work of Gray and Jasper comes closest to doing this, however neither is completely satisfactory. Jasper’s work was focused primarily on liturgical questions, not historical ones, and he was able to demonstrate the continuity between the proposed revisions of 1927 and 1928 and the liturgical renewal movement that would create the Alternative Service Book, a movement in which he himself was a prime mover. For understanding how the history of Anglican liturgy informed the liturgists of the 1970s and 1980s, Jasper’s work is invaluable. As a precise study of the revision process in the 1910s and 1920s, and the desires and goals of those who proposed the Book of 1927, it is rather lacking. Understandably for a liturgist, Jasper did not fully comprehend the ecclesiological contentions of the revision process, although he also did not fully go into either the process of revision or the theological trends within it, neglecting the records of both Convocations and the Assembly.10 Martell, focusing on the crisis primarily in 1927 and 1928 did not fully use the records of the Convocations. Instead he provided a thorough study based on newspapers, both religious and secular, and some of the Davidson’s papers. This study can build on Martell’s thesis by showing how the records of the Convocations and Assembly are integral to the narrative, and by looking beyond a two-year timescale towards a two-decade long one. Gray was limited by the brevity of his studies and presents a rather superficial reading which focuses on the ‘Anglo-Catholic’ tendencies of the proposed revisions, but he does attempt show the continuity of the revision movement from 1906 to 1928. Maiden’s study provides a useful framework for understanding the ecclesiological debate that took place during the crisis, however his understanding of the revision process and debate within the Church of England, rather than within the nation, is restricted, and he draws on few Church sources in his studies. His concern lies with Parliament, and that is where the great strength of his study lies. Bell’s study is rich in primary source material and, although mainly narrative focused, it does provide a competent interpretation of Davidson’s motivations through the process, and those he interacted with. However, my own reading of the Davidson’s papers suggests that in certain aspects Bell’s picture of Davidson is rather unsympathetic, especially when it comes to Davidson’s commitment to the Prayer Book revision. Bell’s account is not only based on Davidson’s papers, but on his own personal recollection of his time as Archbishop’s Chaplain during the process of

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revision from 1914 to 1925. Such a closeness to a figure for study provides invaluable viewpoints, but it also creates moments based more on memory and personal recollection than on the documentary evidence that most historians rely on. As such, by returning to Davidson’s papers and placing them into the context of the records of the Convocations and the Assembly, and the Bishops’ Meeting records that Bell did not have access to, this study will judge Davidson solely on the documentary record, and thus at times disagree with the views of Bell. This work, whilst engaging with these five texts, primarily focuses on source material. Through an analysis of the records of the Convocations and the National Assembly it attempts to understand how the Church constructed the revised Prayer Book and how these discussions and debates showed the Church of England wrestling with theology. The primary sources for this study are the records of the Convocations and of the National/Church Assembly.11 These records provide the accounts of the debates and committees that were primarily concerned with the revision process. Robert Currie considering the crisis pointed out that by the time of the first rejection of the revised Prayer Book in December 1927 “Prayer Book revision was twenty-one years old. It had developed a mystique of its own.”12 By focusing on the records of these bodies, the study hopes to bring to the surface the various trends that coalesced in those 21 years into the book that was presented to Parliament that December. The study will also seek to demonstrate that the process of Prayer Book revision, and the crisis itself, is not a standalone moment in the history of the Church of England. By examining ecclesiology through the period, specifically understandings of Church-State relations, it will demonstrate how the crisis was an integral part in the shifting view of how independent the Church of England should be from Parliament. Rowan Strong, in a chapter in the third volume of The Oxford History of Anglicanism, provides a comprehensive overview of views within the Church of England in the nineteenth century towards Church and State relations.13 This study will demonstrate the drastic implications the thinking of the nineteenth century had in the twentieth. The system of governance the Church of England currently uses, of an independent synod, lay involvement in decision making, minimal Parliamentary oversight, and the freedom to create its own liturgy, finds its roots in the Prayer Book crisis. In the beginning of the twentieth century the United Kingdom was going through a major shift in how it functioned, from the zenith and sudden eclipse of the British Empire to the dawning of a modern Parliamentary democracy. The

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Church of England was not immune from this change, and this study will show how it was considering what it meant to be the Church of England in such a time of change. It will demonstrate how the Enabling Bill which founded the National Assembly was a product of the ecclesiological discussions the Church was having because of the revision process. Matthew Grimley described the revision process as “an internal dispute, largely restricted to clergy and a few ecclesiastically minded politicians, and conducted in complex liturgical and theological terms”.14 This study will demonstrate that lay involvement was at the heart of the revision process, and ultimately it was the lay voice that ensured the proposed Prayer Book of 1927 was one whole complete Prayer Book in itself, and not a complimentary alternative to the Book of 1662. The growing involvement of the laity in the revision process also demonstrates the growing involvement of the laity in the governance of the Church. With such lay involvement, and the side-lining of Parliament, the traditional lay voice of the Church of England, came important questions about who the Church of England represented. Was this a church representative of all of England, or was this a church representative of only those who filled his pews, and if the latter, what was the importance of such a church being the Established Church of a nation? Even today there are not clear answers to these questions, but just as the Church of England asks them in the twenty-first century, so it did in the beginning of the twentieth. Whether to refer to the events of 1927–1928 as the Prayer Book crisis, or the Prayer Book Controversy may seem one of semantics, but carries with it greater repercussions. Controversy does not convey quite how cataclysmic the rejection of the Books of 1927 and 1928 was felt to be in the Church. Crisis better reflects this, and also hints at the longevity of the crisis. From the moment that the revision process began in 1906 a general fear took over the Church about what would happen when a revised Prayer Book reached Parliament. This was seen as an impending, and unavoidable, crisis, of putting the doctrine of the Church before Parliament for debate, which must take place if the Church hoped to get a new Prayer Book. With this in mind this study will use the term ‘Prayer Book crisis’. The other aspect of terminology to be addressed is that of the term ‘Erastianism’. There is a tendency in studying Anglican ecclesiology to describe all Protestant Ecclesiologies as ‘Erastian’. The most recent example of this is Bethany Kilcrease’s The Great Church Crisis and the End of English Erastianism, 1898–1906.15 Kilcrease stressed the importance of the link between the growth of the movement for self-governance in the

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Church and the growing acceptance of Ritualism and Anglo-Catholicism.16 Whilst it is undoubtedly true to link the emergence of, and spreading of, ideas of self-governance in the Church of England to the growth of Anglo-­ Catholicism, this study will show that many who desired, fought for, and gained forms of self-governance for the Church did so whilst defending such action as remaining within the mainstream of Protestantism. As such, it will avoid using the term ‘Erastian’ as a gross oversimplification that removes any nuance when discussing shifting ideas of Church-State relations in the Church.17 By examining the debates surrounding the revision process within the Church, this study will seek to present the theology of the process. It will give some shape to the doctrinal views the new Prayer Book was to present. At the same time it will concern itself with the ecclesiology of the process itself. It will examine the shifting view of Church-State relations as the Church approached presenting Parliament with a new liturgy for the first time since 1662. It will link the fear of presenting the Church’s Prayer Book to the House of Commons with the development of greater self-­ governance in the Church of England. Through the role of the laity in the revision process, it will contrast the growing power of the laity within the Church with the decreasing power of members of Parliament over the Church, and the role of these two movements in the disaster of 1927– 1928. Ultimately this study will present the idea that the Prayer Book crisis should not only be of concern for liturgists, but a period that is central to understanding the contemporary Church of England.

Notes 1. Jeremy Morris, The Church in the Modern Age (London and New  York: I.B. Tauris, 2007), 46. 2. Mark Chapman, “The Evolution of Anglican Theology, 1910–2000,” in The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume IV: Global Western Anglicanism. c.1910–Present, ed. Jeremy Morris (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 25–49. 3. Louis Weil, “Liturgical Renewal and Modern Anglican Liturgy,” in The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume IV: Global Western Anglicanism, c.1910–Present (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 63. 4. Paul Avis, “Prayer Book Use and Conformity,” in The Oxford Handbook of Anglican Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 127. 5. G.K.A. Bell, Randall Davidson: Archbishop of Canterbury, Third Edition (London: Oxford University Press, 1952).

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6. J.D.  Martell, “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28” (MA Thesis: Durham University, 1974). 7. R.C.D.  Jasper, The Development of the Anglican Liturgy, 1662–1980 (London: SPCK, 1989). 8. Donald Gray, The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (1) Ritual, Royal Commissions, and Reply to the Royal Letters of Business, Joint Liturgical Studies 60 (London: The Alcuin Club and The Group For Renewal of Worship, 2005); Donald Gray, The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (2) The Cul-De-Sac of the “Deposited Book” … Until Further Order Be Taken, Joint Liturgical Studies 61 (London: The Alcuin Club and The Group For Renewal of Worship, 2006). 9. John G. Maiden, National Religion and the Prayer Book Controversy, 1927– 1928 (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2009). 10. A PhD thesis by Edward Gareth Lloyd looks at the ordering of the Communion service during the Prayer Book crisis; however, this account is almost solely a retelling of that found in the work of Jasper. Like Jasper he judges the ordering against the standards of the later liturgical renewal movement. As both his material and his analysis are heavily reliant on Jaspers work, it has not been of any use to this study. See Edward Gareth Lloyd, “The Revision of the Eucharist in the Church of England: A Study of Liturgical Change in the Twentieth Century” (PhD Thesis: Durham University, 1997). 11. The National Assembly, founded in 1919, began to be referred to officially as the Church Assembly in 1924. This was only a superficial name change and both terms referred to an identical body. 12. Robert Currie, “Power and Principle: The Anglican Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1930,” Church History 33 (1964): 192. 13. Rowan Strong, “Anglicanism and the State in the Nineteenth Century,” in The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume III: Partisan Anglicanism and Its Global Expansion 1829–c.1914, ed. Rowan Strong (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 92–115. 14. Matthew Grimley, Citizenship, Community and the Church of England: Liberal Anglican Theories of the State Between the Wars (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 141. 15. Bethany Kilcrease, The Great Church Crisis and the End of English Erastianism, 1898–1906 (London and New York: Routledge, 2017). 16. Ibid., 175. I have argued elsewhere that the emergence of ideas of self-­ governance start far earlier in the nineteenth century than Kilcrease suggests, see: Dan D.  Cruickshank, “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric: Ritualism and Royal Commissions in Late Nineteenthand Early Twentieth-Century England”, Studies in Church History 56 (2020) [in press].

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17. Also see: Dan Cruickshank, “‘Remember That in This Land There [Are] Two Kingdoms’: The Church of England’s Theology of Church and State in the First World War,” Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte/Contemporary Church History 31 (2018): 131–145.

Bibliography Avis, Paul. “Prayer Book Use and Conformity.” In The Oxford Handbook of Anglican Studies, 125–138. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Bell, G.K.A. Randall Davidson: Archbishop of Canterbury. 3rd ed. London: Oxford University Press, 1952. Chapman, Mark. “The Evolution of Anglican Theology, 1910–2000.” In The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume IV: Global Western Anglicanism. c.1910– Present, edited by Jeremy Morris, 25–49. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Cruickshank, Dan. “‘Remember That in This Land There [Are] Two Kingdoms’: The Church of England’s Theology of Church and State in the First World War.” Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte/Contemporary Church History 31 (2018): 131–145. Cruickshank, Dan D. “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric: Ritualism and Royal Commissions in Late Nineteenth- and early Twentieth-­ Century England.” Studies in Church History 56 (2020) [in press]. Currie, Robert. “Power and Principle: The Anglican Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1930.” Church History 33 (1964): 192–205. Gray, Donald. The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (1) Ritual, Royal Commissions, and Reply to the Royal Letters of Business. Joint Liturgical Studies 60. London: The Alcuin Club and the Group For Renewal of Worship, 2005. ———. The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (2) The Cul-De-Sac of the “Deposited Book” … until Further Order Be Taken. Joint Liturgical Studies 61. London: The Alcuin Club and the Group For Renewal of Worship, 2006. Grimley, Matthew. Citizenship, Community and the Church of England: Liberal Anglican Theories of the State Between the Wars. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Jasper, R.C.D. The Development of the Anglican Liturgy, 1662–1980. London: SPCK, 1989. Kilcrease, Bethany. The Great Church Crisis and the End of English Erastianism, 1898–1906. London and New York: Routledge, 2017. Lloyd, Edward Gareth. “The Revision of the Eucharist in the Church of England: A Study of Liturgical Change in the Twentieth Century.” PhD Thesis, Durham University, 1997. Maiden, John G. National Religion and the Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1928. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2009.

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Martell, J.D. “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28.” MA Thesis, Durham University, 1974. Morris, Jeremy. The Church in the Modern Age. London and New  York: I.B. Tauris, 2007. Strong, Rowan. “Anglicanism and the State in the Nineteenth Century.” In The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume III: Partisan Anglicanism and Its Global Expansion 1829–c.1914, edited by Rowan Strong, 92–115. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Weil, Louis. “Liturgical Renewal and Modern Anglican Liturgy.” In The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume IV: Global Western Anglicanism, c.1910– Present, 50–67. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017.

CHAPTER 2

The Revision Process in Convocation, 1906–1920

Abstract  This chapter examines the revision debates that took place in the Convocations of the Church of England from 1906 to 1920, demonstrating how the majority of the revision of the Prayer Book was completed in the 1910s. It challenges views that link a ‘Catholicisation’ of the Church of England to the experience of the First World War, demonstrating that much of the ‘catholicising’ elements of revision were agreed before the war. It also demonstrates that the delay to the revision process during the war was a result of the creation of the National Assembly of the Church of England, and shows the direct link between the revision process and the creation of a mode of self-governance with the conception of the National Assembly. Keywords  Catholicisation • Ecclesiology • First World War • Liturgical revision • Self-government The process of revision that would lead to the Prayer Book crisis in 1927– 28 began two decades earlier in 1906. This chapter will consider the first 14 years of revision, when it was a matter solely being considered by the two Convocations of the Church of England. Ronald Jasper’s The Development of the Anglican Liturgy1 is the authoritative text on the Prayer Book revision process. Useful as it is, the text does not shine a light as fully on this period as it might, with Jasper declaring that “Little purpose would © The Author(s) 2019 D. D. Cruickshank, The Theology and Ecclesiology of the Prayer Book Crisis, 1906–1928, Christianities in the Trans-Atlantic World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-27130-5_2

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be served by discussing in detail the work of the Convocations during the period 1907–19”.2 This chapter will disprove this assertion through an examination of the Convocation records from 1906 to 1920. It will attempt to shed more light on this period, demonstrating how the Prayer Book of 1927 was primarily written in the 1910s. By exploring the debates of the Convocations, this chapter will seek to challenge views prevalent in the modern historiography of religion in the First World War that link the ‘Catholicisation’ of the Church of England to the experience of the war. It will demonstrate how many aspects that have been identified as products of the war were actually agreed upon prior to 1914, focusing on the reordering of the Communion Office and the reservation of the Communion elements. Finally it will challenge the idea that Prayer Book revision stalled during the war, although this was an idea often put forward by the Church leaders themselves, by showing how it was reaching its final form before the beginning of the war. Instead it will link any delay—if there can be said to have been one—to the birth of the National Assembly of the Church of England. The chapter will therefore also explore the developments in ecclesiology that led to the greatest gain in the Church’s self-governance since the Reformation, demonstrating that the birth of the National Assembly was directly tied to the desires and concerns that arose from the process of Prayer Book revision.

The Prospect of Prayer Book Revision: 1906–1910 The revision of the Prayer Book began with the Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline, which lasted from 1904 to 1906, and examined the ritual controversy that had raged in the Church during the latter part of the nineteenth century.3 The commissioners included representatives from both the Church, such as the Archbishop of Canterbury, Randall Davidson, and from Parliament, such as Michael Edward Hicks-Beach. After two years of work the Commission concluded that much of what had once been regarded as ritualism was now acceptable within Anglicanism, and as such the Church of England needed to revise the Prayer Book to better reflect the Church of England in the twentieth century. The idea of revising the Prayer Book in response to Ritualism was not new, and A. Elliott Peaston has studied more than 20 anti-Ritualist Prayer Book revisions proposed by Evangelicals in the nineteenth century.4 But the Royal Commission did not recommend a revision of punishment, but one which both widened legality to welcome in much of common place

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Ritualist practice, whilst making the illegality of the extreme clearer. John Maiden has written that “The explicit stated purpose of liturgical revision was to widen the latitude of acceptable worship in the Church; however, the background of the Royal Commission and ongoing liturgical indiscipline ensured that revision cane to be seen as a means of both cultivating inclusiveness and fostering order.”5 Maiden is probably correct in this is how many perceived the explicit purpose of Prayer Book revision, but the Royal Commission was clear that revision was also being done to highlight those who were on “the Rome-ward side of a line of deep cleavage between the Church of England and that of Rome”.6 The Commission hoped that revision of the Prayer Book “would secure the obedience of many, now dissatisfied, who desire to be loyal, and would justify the Church as a whole, in insisting on the obedience of all”.7 The Royal Commission report was thus explicit in the fact that the aim of revision was to secure obedience, both by making certain practices legal and by making it easier to demonstrate the illegality of the extremes. The Royal Commission recommended that Royal Letters of Business be issued to the Convocations of the Church so that it could begin the process of revising its Prayer Book for the modern age.8 As Nigel Yates identified, by the beginning of the twentieth century, “The Book of Common Prayer no longer provided the unity that it had once had for the Church of England when the manner in which its services were celebrated differed so widely from one church to another.”9 The report of the Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline was explosive, but many were pleased that it seemed to usher in a new age of unity and uniformity across the Church, and this fact was recognised by the secular press. The Manchester Guardian in an opinion piece on 5 July 1906 praised the report’s commitment to the Church’s right to ‘self-adjustment’: “It was worth all the anxiety and perturbation which preceded, and may possibly follow, the Commission to obtain this momentous declaration. It is a message of peace and a prophecy of self-government.”10 A minor tussle ensued between Davidson and the Prime Minister, Henry Campbell-Bannerman, to secure the issue of the Letters of Business, heralding many years in which the Church would re-examine its relationship with the State. In 1906 the Report of the Royal Commission had been clear: Letters of Business should be issued to the Convocations with instructions: (a) to consider the preparation of a new rubric regulating the ornaments (that is to say, the vesture) of the ministers of the Church, at the times of

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their ministrations, with a view to its enactment by Parliament; and to frame, with a view to their enactment by Parliament, such modifications in the existing law relating to the conduct of Divine Service and to the ornaments and fittings of churches as may tend to secure the greater elasticity which a reasonable recognition of the comprehensiveness of the Church of England and of its present needs seems to demand.11

George Bell outlined the difficult period that followed this request. Davidson approached Campbell-Bannerman, who in August wrote to the Archbishop that Custom undoubtedly warrants the grant of Letters in such cases… But His Majesty’s Government believe that very far-reaching consequences may follow, and they do not think it would be right to set on foot a proceeding which may lead to such serious issues in the Church of England, except upon the initiative of the Church itself acting through its recognized authorities.12

Campbell-Bannerman refused to recommend the issuing of the Letters until both Archbishops presented a joint request for him to do so, or he received a petition from Convocation.13 The Archbishops, with no other choice if they wished to follow the recommendations of a report Davidson had helped draft, dutifully wrote the required letter.14 This was not an auspicious start to the revision process, one that would ultimately have to end with agreement between the Church and Parliament. By November 1906, the Royal Letters of Business had been issued. Special November meetings of both York and the Canterbury Convocation were called to receive these Letters and begin the task of answering. Prior to the November session, Davidson wrote to all members of the Canterbury Convocation, saying the task ahead lay in creating “Rules clear in principle and yet elastic in detail … if the Church, in its manifold activities, is to be abreast of modern needs and yet loyal to ancient order.”15 Jasper claimed that “Davidson approached the task of dealing with the Royal Letters of Business with some misgivings and no particular enthusiasm.”16 This interpretation ignores the pivotal role Davidson played in the Commission itself and his role in conceiving the report it produced which called for the Letters of Business. It is true that Davidson did not prejudge the final answer to the Letters of Business in his initial address to the Upper House in November 1906, saying that the answer could “take the form of saying

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that we recommend no change at all; and you will have observed that the terms of the Letter of Business are not in themselves incompatible with such an answer”.17 However Davidson did warn about what “might be said or thought about its wisdom, or its courage, or its appropriateness”,18 if the answer called for no change. Before the November Meeting of Canterbury Convocation, Davidson had written to the Prolocutor of the Lower House, Philip Eliot, Dean of Windsor, to make clear that in his address he would “not leave it an open question whether or not we are to send an answer to the Letters of Business, for, indeed, I do not know how we could constitutionally refuse to consider the Rubrics when the crown directs us so to do”.19 Davidson thus pushed for a thorough process of Prayer Book revision from the beginning, and it seems from this letter to the Prolocutor that he initially did so out of a belief in a constitutional obligation to do so. Although his speech before Convocation allowed for the possibility of the Church answering with a call for no revision, Davidson’s role in creating the report that called for Prayer Book revision, and the fact that in his Convocation speech he cautioned about what would be said if the Church called for no revision, suggests that he believed the process would, and should, end with some form of Prayer Book revision. Jasper also suggested that Davidson’s greatest anxiety at the start of the revision process was a fear of exacerbating existing party divides within the Church,20 however it seems clear from his remarks to the Upper House in November 1906 that his greatest fear was what would happen when any revised Prayer Book reached Parliament. Davidson, in his address, sought to allay any fears his brother bishops had over this danger by telling them “as far as I am aware, no responsible people in public life want that the rubrical details of the Book of Common Prayer shall be discussed in Parliament”.21 Davidson saw that The task before us ultimately will be how to find a mode of securing the Parliamentary sanction which will be necessary if … the change of any rubric is recommended—how to secure that without involving discussions which would be quite obviously and manifestly unsuited to Parliament if they necessitated discussions there upon the details either of worship or of doctrine.22

From the very beginning, and emanating from Cantuar himself, allowing Parliament to debate the contents of the Prayer Book, which would mean the House of Commons considering the doctrine and practice of the

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Church, was viewed not only as undesirable but as something to be avoided. For Davidson, it seems, Parliament’s relationship with the Church did not, or rather should not, include the right to decide the doctrine or liturgy of the Church. Maiden has suggested that during the first few decades of the twentieth century “The most important development [in the Church of England] was the rising influence of Church leaders leaning towards a Centre-High outlook.”23 This is undoubtedly true when it came to the growth of Anglo-Catholic theology within the Church. Davidson was soon joined in 1909 by Cosmo Lang at York, whose election as Archbishop drew protestors carrying banners decrying Lang because, in the words of the banners, “The New Archbishop Is a Romaniser”.24 The occupation of both provincial thrones by those sympathetic to the high wing of the Church was also reflected throughout diocesan bishoprics, with the like of Charles Gore at Worcester and then Birmingham, Arthur Winnington-Ingram at London and Charles Ridgeway at Chichester. Maiden claimed that this new generation of Church leaders “Drawing on the ecclesiology of Hooker and Andrewes, they defined the Church as a bridge between the theological and liturgical dogmatisms of Reformed Protestantism and Roman Catholicism.”25 In fact, these leaders did not follow the ecclesiology of Hooker, who proposed a central role for parliament in the governance of the church, arguing that “because the crown in parliament with the convocation speaks for the entire community of Christians in England it is authorized to promulgate binding church laws”.26 Davidson, in his address to Canterbury Convocation’s Upper House, did not, as Hooker had, identify Parliament as a vital part of both representing and legislating for the Church, but rather as a body unsuited to discuss the doctrine and liturgy of the Church. The ecclesiology of this new generation did not derive from that of Hooker or Andrewes, but from the Oxford Movement, with its clear delineation between the rights of the Church over its own affairs, without a role for Parliament.27 Davidson’s desire to avoid a Parliamentary debate about revision was coupled with a real fear amongst many clergy about what would happen if Parliament was involved, illustrated by the literature that began to appear in which various clergymen voiced their opinions on how Parliament would react to the revision process. Edward Wickham, Dean of Lincoln, wrote in 1910 that “If we say, ‘We want no change, we are satisfied with every Rubric exactly as it was drawn or left in 1662,’ then the answer is inevitable: ‘Well, gentlemen, if you are satisfied with the law as it stands, if

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you desire no mitigations or adaptions to present circumstances, then from henceforth no doubt you will keep the law strictly.’”28 What Wickham understood, which many of the High and Anglo-Catholic wing of the Church did not, was that regardless of their personal ecclesiology, the reality was that Parliament still had ultimate control over the law of the Church of England, and over the enforcement of that law. The inability of many churchmen to understand that the ecclesiology they believed in and espoused, specifically an ecclesiology of church independence grounded in the Oxford Movement, was not in fact the constitutional position of the Church of England hindered the reform attempts of this period. Whilst the Royal Commission had been clear that the Ornaments Rubric29 was too vague to be of use and that the many practices which were illegal were common practice and evidence of a need for law reform,30 some Churchmen believed they knew better. “[T]he use of Eucharistic Vestments is now recognised to be legal after all”, declared W.J. Sparrow Simpson, Chaplain of St Mary’s Hospital Illford,31 providing no evidence as to why the Ridsdale Judgement was now no longer the legal precedent for the use of Eucharistic Vestments.32 Sparrow Simpson admitted that “No doubt this is still disputed; but the weight of historical and ecclesiastical authority now places this construction upon the Ornaments Rubric.”33 Sparrow Simpson made no reference to judicial or political understandings of the Rubric, or those of the Royal Commission itself, plainly because they had taken the legally enforceable view that the Rubric did not licence Eucharist Vestments. For Sparrow Simpson, as with many Anglo-Catholics, there was no need to follow the call of the Royal Commission and reform the Ornaments Rubric as they and ‘the Church’, and their opinions counted as those of the entire Church, had decided the Ornaments Rubric licenced the majority of Ritualist practices. William Maclagan, in 1906 still Archbishop of York, was more upbeat in his Presidential Address to the whole York synod in November 1906 than Davidson had been in his. Contrasting the report of the Royal Commission of 1904–1906 with those produced by the Royal Commission into Ritualism of 1867–1871, which produced four reports, none of which had the unqualified support of all signatures,34 Maclagan applauded the unanimity of the report of 1906 which was “signed by every member of the Commission, without one exception, although it is well known how widely divided from one another the members were upon points both of doctrine and ritual”.35 Maclagan mentioned this unanimity of opinion that had produced the report, and thus the Letters of Business, as it gave a

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“happy hope that it has arisen from the special supervision and direction of the Holy Spirit”.36 Unlike Davidson, Maclagan saw the opportunity for revision as one given by God that could lead to increased peace and harmony in the Church. If Davidson viewed the coming debates and proposals with anxiety, fuelled primarily with a fear of the process ending in Parliament, Maclagan presented the debates and proposals arising from the Letters of Business as “a duty which we joyfully and loyally undertake and desire to fulfil to the utmost of our power”.37 Joyfully or not, both Convocations immediately set to work, establishing committees in the Upper and Lower Houses of both Convocations to begin the task of reviewing the Prayer Book for possible places of revision. The process that ensued was complex. Until responsibility for the reply of the Letters of Business was transferred to the newly established National Assembly in 1920, four separate revision processes were taking place, one in each of the Houses of the Convocations. Each Convocation was made up of two Houses, an Upper House containing diocesan bishops, and a Lower House containing other members of clergy, some elected by their peers, and some appointed ex officio due to their ecclesial posts. York’s Houses were smaller than those of Canterbury; Canterbury’s Upper House consisted of around 26 bishops, York’s contained 9, in their Lower House Canterbury contained around 250–300 clergy, York just under 100. Both Convocations had been reconvened in the middle of the nineteenth century, after two centuries of inactivity.38 There was no lay representation in the Convocations, but two unofficial ‘House of Laymen’ had been meeting since the last decade of the nineteenth century.39 From 1904 both Convocations plus the two Houses of Laity met as the Representative Church Council, a body which had no constitutional power.40 This was a toothless body, with no constitutional power, but it did provide the laity a national organ through which they could express their views. Bell in his narrative of Davidson’s life warned the reader that “The procedure, it must be remembered, was liable to be cumbersome and complicated; because, as the Archbishop made plain from the beginning, each of the two Houses in Canterbury Convocation, and each of the two Houses in York Convocation were dealing with the same matters.”41 What Bell does not answer is why. Why did not even both Houses in each Convocation unite to create their replies? A large part of the answer to that question must lie in the privilege and autonomy each House believed it had. At each Convocation, discussions took part almost solely within in each House. A House was only (officially) informed of the other House’s view

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on a topic unless that House had passed a motion to send the other House a report of theirs or a proposed resolution. There was no guarantee that the two Houses in the same Convocation would be discussing even similar topics, with each House deciding its own order for debate and proposing its own motions. A sense of unity was stronger in the Convocation of York where the first meeting of the first group of sessions of the year started with a gathering of the full synod and a Presidential Address. At Canterbury too the Archbishop could address both Houses of Convocation at the start of a new group of sessions, however this primarily took place in the more formal Latin opening service of Convocation, in which the Archbishop delivered the charge to the Houses. The Presidential Address in Canterbury was delivered solely to the Upper House. The entire system of Convocation worked to ensure the separation of each of the Houses, free to decide what they would, without any outside interference.42 Even when faced with a task that required one united answer from the whole Church of England, the Convocations found themselves trapped, to some extent willingly, in the constitutional separation of the Houses of Convocation. The nature of appointing committees to put forward proposals for reply meant that few debates could take place within the Convocations itself around what needed revising and what did not. The committees appointed by each House were not answerable to their House in their discussions, but only in the reports they then sent to the House. A House could ask its committee to discuss a specific thing, for example to consider the proposals of another House regarding a similar issue, but could not decide the limits or scope of the discussion their committee would undertake. It only became clear what the Committee believed needed revising when they would come to sending a report to the House. The House would then accept the report in general (explicitly not accepting its recommendations and conclusions as representative of the House) and then debate each individual recommendation and deciding whether the House approved or wanted to amend the recommendation. Neither the results of these discussions nor the acceptance of reports by the Convocations was seen as binding. Maclagan’s successor as Archbishop of York, Cosmo Lang, boasted in 1910 to the synod of York that “No report has been more than received or commended to the attention of the Church.”43 The reports received by the Houses in the years up until 1910 were mostly concerned with the vesture of the minister. Jasper said this period of discussion “was confined initially to a strictly limited area”.44 This is a

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simplistic analysis. For example, the Upper House of Canterbury, whose committee consisted of the whole House,45 split into three subgroups: Group A to create a historical survey on the vesture of the minister and the ornaments of churches, Group B to look at the procedure for making the legal implementation of any changes recommended in the reply, and Group C to consider changes to the wider rubrics of the Prayer Book.46 These groups were primarily limited to considering the rubrics of the Prayer Book, and not the actual liturgical text, but there was no limit to which of the rubrics they could consider. Everything, from the Ornaments Rubric, to whether private baptism could be done by a lay person and the legality of the pallium was up for discussion. Initially a lot of the debates within the Convocations were focused on the vesture of the minister, but this was more down to how quickly these reports could be produced, and the fact this was an issue discussed at length in the report of the Royal Commission. Both Houses of Canterbury and the Lower House of York coalesced around an acceptance of two kinds of vestures for the minister; the first of a surplice worn with stole or preaching scarf and a hood, the second being a white alb worn with a chasuble or cope.47 The report of Group A of the Upper House of Canterbury, delivered in 1908, saw no conflict between the wearing of vestments and the doctrine of the Church of England. It further claimed that “All symbolical interpretation, though some of its goes back to the ninth century, is an afterthought, and is in fact, fanciful, poetical, and arbitrary, though perfectly innocent and unobjectionable.”48 The report understood vestments as a hangover of Roman civil dress, arguing that anyone who believed they imitated the Levitical priestly garb, believed something ‘fanciful’, but not harmful to the beliefs of the Church of England.49 The report stressed that “We believe that the vestments have never been abolished in principle, and we wish to bring the Church to feel that their retention or abolition ought not to be a matter to excite very heated controversy. They are not an articulus stantis aut cadentis ecclesiae.”50 Quoting Pseudo-Luther was not the only link in the report to the Reformation. The examination of vestments during the English Reformation mostly focused on the Advertisements of 1566.51 Exploring them, the report presents a complex analysis of the Royal Supremacy which was so central to the English Reformation. The Advertisements, it said, “[seem] to us to be rightly interpreted as a specimen of the tortuous policy of Queen Elizabeth—whose difficulties, of course, deserve our

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s­ ympathy. But we sympathise, perhaps even more fully and naturally with Archbishop Parker and his brethren, who had to work in subservience to her will, but without her open and public authority … [Elizabeth I] took care not to give them formal authority, so that she might be able to repudiate them if they turned out to be too unpopular or too inconvenient to enforce.”52 This analysis of the Advertisements suggests several things. Firstly, it demonstrates a historical understanding of the Royal Supremacy which recognised that the Crown and the Church were not always in harmony. Indeed, it makes quite clear that although the Church must act upon the wishes of the Crown, it does not do so necessarily with the full support of the Crown, but nevertheless must struggle on to fulfil those wishes. Secondly, it suggests that the Church is an independent organ of the Crown, bound to follow its wishes, but doing so independently of the Crown, using its own methods of procedure. Thirdly, and perhaps more implicitly and less obviously than the other two points, it makes the point that the actions and decisions of the Church are not bound by the political motivations of the Crown. Elizabeth I may not have found it politically expedient to fully endorse the Advertisements, but it was still the right of the Church to issue them because, regardless of their popularity or the political opponents to them, they were theologically correct, and thus the right course of action for the Church. The orthopraxis of the Church, according to this report, was not tied to the political currents of the land, but to the orthodoxy of the Church of England. The logical endpoint of this ecclesiology would play out in the discussions to take place later in the 1910s which led to the foundation of the National Assembly. The Upper House of York report of 1908, in contrast, was more cautious on vestments. Concluding their report they said that “We could not therefore contemplate the permissive use of a distinctive vesture at the Holy Communion except under carefully specific safeguards.”53 These safeguards would have to ensure that “No sanction is thereby given to such treatment of the Communion Office by ceremonies and interpolations as assimilates it to the pre-Reformation Missal”,54 that all vestments apart from the cope would be white and that “the Bishop should be empowered to give due protection to parishioners and congregations”.55 Jasper ascribed the fact that the Upper House of York was less sympathetic to Anglo-Catholic claims and practice to the fact of the stronger presence of Evangelicals amongst the Northern bishops.56 Cosmo Lang even described the Upper House during the period as an “an Evangelical preserve”.57 By contrast the Lower House of York in July 1910, despite the

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protests of figures such as Canon Gore who claimed vestments were “connected with the teaching of doctrine which is not generally recognised by the Church of England”,58 doctrines “Which are of the Church of Rome”,59 passed a report recommending the legalisation of both vestures of the minister, with no colour recommendations for vestments.60 In May 1912 the Upper House of York again debated whether to recommend the legalising of coloured vestments or only of white ones. Questions of procedure and the unity of the Church of England were an explicit theme of the discussion. The Bishop of Carlisle, John Diggle, pointed out that by this point all other Houses had passed recommendations to allow the use of coloured vestments, and asked “What was going to happen if to-day their lordships supported the proposal for white vestments? Would those three Houses follow their lead and would they abandon their proposals for the permissive use of coloured vestments?”61 The Bishop of Ripon, Lucius Smith, asked “what right have we to assume that they have put their foot down absolutely and are unwilling to consider a suggestion from this Upper House?” Diggle responded that was not what he was suggesting, instead he believed that if they passed a resolution calling only for white vestments, the other Houses “would either abandon their own proposals or adopt those of the Upper House of York”.62 This exchange points to the inability of the procedure of revision to overcome each House’s sense that it had come to the right decision. Such a view was probably held by members of all four Houses, demonstrated later on in the process as they attempted to harmonise their views, but this level of belief that the Upper House of York had, that their recommendations alone would become those of both Convocations, misjudged the strength of evangelical support amongst the other Houses of Convocation. Beyond the issue of vestments, other, more wide-ranging recommendations were coming to the fore. In November 1910 the Lower House of Canterbury was presented with Report 447 which recommended that any revisions to the Prayer Book be placed in a schedule attached to the Prayer Book.63 It also recommended including in the schedule the Scottish Communion Office as an official alternative to the Prayer Book Communion Office.64 These two suggestions in this report mark the time in which discussions clearly moved from looking at just the rubrics of the Prayer Book to the liturgy itself. Report 447 also offers the first formulation of an answer which the Church came to accept of how to make the changes they desired without major Parliamentary scrutiny; putting all the revision into a schedule to the actual bill to be passed, meaning the ­revision

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itself could not be altered by Parliament. In the debates around the report the Dean of Christ Church, Thomas Strong, was open that “Such things as could go into the Supplement would be determined by their requiring no legal sanction from Parliament, the object partly being to prevent going to Parliament.”65 This sidestepping of Parliament with a schedule would become the agreed strategy of all Houses through the 1910s. However, in 1927 it would become clear that the fact that the Church had been able to find a way of preventing Parliament from altering the revision would not stop Parliament debating the details of the Revised Book.

Revising the Communion Office, 1912–1914 In February 1912 Lang told the full synod of York that “The stage of preliminary report and discussion was over; the stage of resolution and decision had come.”66 By 1912 there was a clear feeling that the time for the initial exploration into what sort of reply should be put forward was over. Now what was needed was clear adoption of resolutions by the Houses on what the final replies should look like. Canon Lister in the Lower House of York in May 1911 had attempted to pass a motion that called for the reply to be made by the end of 1912. Moving the motion “He said that they had been five years discussing the reply to the Royal Letters of Business. The last revision of the Prayer Book of Charles II was started in 1660, completed in 1661, and came into force on St Bartholomew’s Day, 1662. There had never been a slower movement towards revision than the present in the previous history of the Church of England.” Archdeacon Norris of Halifax replied to this scathing comment that it was “A very good thing, too [that the revision was being done at a slower pace].” “Yes,” replied Lister “but some do not desire to go on working with the thought that it would never have any effect. If we cannot give an answer in six years, I do not know how we are going to do it in sixty.”67 The exasperation felt by Canon Lister was understandable, and he was right that the process the Church had undertaken was not as speedy as the Savoy Conference and the revisions of the Convocations of 1661, but this process was explicitly trying to create a new uniformity in the Church, bringing many Ritualists and Anglo-Catholics into the legality of the Church, and thus avoid the type of schism that the 1662 Book had resulted in. With this in mind, the methodical approach to revision, producing reports on areas before deciding the views of the Houses of Convocations, was understandable and appropriate. This meant that now

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the time had come to decide what the answers should be, the members of Convocation knew it was not just the Ornaments Rubric, or the wider Rubrics, that needed updating, but the entire Prayer Book. The proposed changes accepted by the various Houses are too numerate to list, and mostly fall into two groups: firstly, those that modernised the rubrics and services, and secondly, those that catholicised rubrics and services. The first group includes changes such as a shorter introduction to Morning and Evening Prayer and the revision of the lectionary and retranslation of the psalms. The second group represents changes such as reservation of the consecrated elements and the reordering of the Communion service. This is not to say the two did not overlap, and many of the changes in the latter group were presented, rightly or wrongly, as necessary to meet the needs of the present. Rather these groupings are best defined by the type of opposition they received. The first group were opposed by those who desired no changes to the Prayer Book; by people from either wing of the Church, purely because they believed it was wrong to alter the Prayer Book as the central distinctive document of the Church of England and a reluctance to alter a book that had lasted, mainly untouched, for 250 years and thus had the precedent of historical custom on its side. The opponents to the second group did so because they felt the proposals threatened the Protestant nature of the Church of England and were contrary to the historic doctrines of the Church. As will be demonstrated later in the chapter, numerical data from the votes on proposals are not useful for understanding whether proposals were modernising or catholicising; catholicising proposals often received larger majorities that modernising ones. This can be explained by understanding the context of the nineteenth century, when both Evangelicals and Ritualists claimed to be the preservers of the Prayer Book, against the ‘misinterpretation’ of the opposing party. As Peter Wickins identified, throughout the nineteenth century, “It was not only the Anglo-Catholics who used the Book of Common Prayer to suit their own purposes and they thought it unfair that they were always being accused of infringing it while others could defy with impunity those rubrics which they did not like.”68 The number of modernising changes that became part of the revised Prayer Books demonstrates the widespread departure from the Prayer Book and its rubrics across all wings of the Church, not just from Anglo-Catholics and Ritualists. Those changes that can be grouped as modernising will not gain much attention in the following paragraphs, as they garnered little debate, and only serve to demonstrate a desire prevalent in most churches;

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to ensure their message was hearable by modern ears.69 Instead it is the catholicising proposals that offer the most thorough examples of the Church of England’s shifting understanding of its identity and who it represented. One of the greatest changes proposed in the revision process was the reservation of the consecrated elements. The idea was first proposed by the Committee of the Lower House of York in their report of February 1909, which recommended reservation “for the purpose of Communicating particular sick persons, provided that there be no unnecessary delay, to be legalized, but nothing beyond this”.70 The first discussion on reservation occurred in the Lower House of Canterbury in May 1911. The Lower House was discussing Report 451, which had been presented to the House earlier in the year and recommended adding a new rubric to the communion of the sick for “when the Holy Communion cannot reverently or without grave difficulty be celebrated in private, and also when there are several sick persons in the parish desirous to receive the Communion on the same day”.71 In such a situation the elements could should be taken “on the same day [as the Communion Service] and with as little delay as may be”72 to the sick person and be administered to them. “If the consecrated Bread and Wine be not taken immediately to the sick person, they shall be kept in such place and after such manner as the Ordinary shall approve, so that they be not used for any other purpose whatsoever.”73 This was not reservation for private or public devotion, but strictly for the communion of the sick, and as quickly as possible after the Communion service. Winfrid Burrows, Archdeacon of Birmingham, was at pains to make this clear when proposing the resolution: The question arose: Did the Committee really mean to allow permanent Reservation? The proposal as it stood mean ‘No’… He himself felt there was no objection to such permanent Reservation if it could be safely guarded, and if members of the House could provide arrangements which would adequately guard such permanent Reservation and yet permit it, he should be prepared to vote for it as an individual. The Committee’s provision only dealt with communicating the sick in their homes by means of Reservation on the same day that there was open Communion in the Church.74

The motion met little resistance, the most outspoken critic being the leading Evangelical and Dean of Canterbury, Henry Wace, who believed that the Church was in danger of “introducing a new form and a new

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licence which undoubtedly … would be used to bring back in some degree or other those abuses which the Reformers deprecated”.75 Despite Wace’s protest the recommendation was agreed to by a large majority of 59 for and 14 against.76 By contrast, on the same day, the proposal in Report 451 that allowed ministers to shorten the words of administration when faced with a large number of communicants was agreed to by a majority of 60 for and 29 against.77 Neither Upper House would publicly discuss the issue of reservation until February 1914. The Upper House of Canterbury, in its Report 481, supported a rubric almost identical to that of the Lower House, but with an addition to the rubric ensuring the consent of the sick person was secured first.78 Privately, the Upper House had been drafting such a rubric since 1911.79 Bell identified the seemingly contradictory aims of the bishops when drafting this agreement; it represented “not what was [currently] allowable, but what they hoped would be allowable if the revision of the Prayer Book received full canonical and legal sanction”.80 The contradiction came with the fact that at the same time as recognising the illegality of reservation, that “By general agreement this Draft Rubric was accepted by the bishops as giving them guidance in their administrative capacity for dealing with particular questions of Reservation.”81 The records of the Bishops’ Meetings, to which Bell presumably did not have access, show that in fact the bishops had not agreed upon such a decision. The issue was discussed at the Bishops’ Meeting of February 1912, when the Bishop of Ely, Fredric Chase, suggested that the bishops of both provinces adopt the rubric being privately drafted by the Upper House of Canterbury.82 The minutes of the meeting say that “The discussion which followed … showed the difficulty which would be found in laying down a uniform rule of Episcopal action in such matters”.83 Chase’s comments, that at that moment “practices were sanctioned, in some dioceses, which he and other Bishops were not prepared to sanction in their own”,84 suggests that some bishops were using the new proposal to sanction reservation, but that the custom was not as widespread as Bell believed it to be. When the issue of reservation was discussed publically in the Upper House of Canterbury in February 1914, there was almost unanimous approval amongst the bishops. A lone voice of dissent, the Bishop of Hereford, John Percival, complained that “the demand for the allowance of the reservation of the Sacrament because of supposed difficulty with regard to the communion of the sick was not quite a genuine demand—he meant that it was not for that purpose that it was made”.85 He then attempted to

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propose an amendment to remove this recommendation from the report, but found none of his brother bishops would second him.86 Dutifully he voted, along with all his brothers, to accept 481 as a report of the House.87 At the same time, the Upper House of York passed a resolution calling for the rubric at the end of the Communion service forbidding the removal of the elements from the church be modified so that the elements could be taken out for the communion of the sick.88 In his Presidential Address to York Convocation in May 1914, Lang set out what main points of revision the four Houses of Convocations had agreed, to demonstrate how close the replies being constructed seemed to be. “You will notice” he told the full Synod “that all Houses are agreed that permission, under specified conditions and safeguards, should be given for the reservation of the elements in the Holy Communion for the sick only”.89 By May 1914 it was clear that reservation would form a part of any reply to the Letters of Business, and that this had the backing of the whole breadth of the Church. The other major catholicising change to emerge in the 1910s was the reordering of the Communion service. The Communion service in the 1662 Prayer Book was only a slight modification of the service from that included in Cranmer’s more Reformed Prayer Book of 1552. For Anglo-­ Catholics and Ritualists, the clearest break in Cranmer’s service of 1552 with that of the 1549 and the preceding Roman ones was the placement of the Lord’s Prayer and the Prayer of Oblation after the administration of the sacrament. In this placing they were a response to the grace of God in the Eucharist and not a part of the Eucharistic action itself. This was especially true of the Prayer of Oblation. Cranmer removed any mention of offering the bread and wine itself from the prayer, solely focusing on the communicants offering their souls and bodies as a sacrifice of thanks for the gift of God in the received sacrament. As Diarmaid MacCulloch argues, this liturgy reflected how “In Cranmer’s eyes, there is really nothing which humanity can offer God, except itself.”90 This offering of oneself was a response to the action of God, and the placing of this prayer after the reception of the elements demonstrated this clearly. Ritualists and the Anglo-Catholic movement were not comfortable with this view of sacraments and their reception. In the nineteenth century this had led to some of the fringes of the movement, and elements within the mainstream, illegally retreating to the 1549 Prayer Book to find an order that they believed affirmed a more Lutheran or even Roman Catholic sacramental theology. James Kirby said of the 1549 Prayer Book that “for many High Churchmen,

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it marked the completion of the truly desirable phase of the English Reformation: independence from Rome and a vernacular bible and liturgy had been secured, but no great doctrinal changes had been introduced”.91 The idea of allowing the 1549 Service, or the 1637 Scottish Communion Office (which was viewed by Anglo-Catholics as being based on the 1549 service),92 as an alternative in the proposed appendix was raised several times in the Lower Houses in the early stages of the revision process, but never succeeded in getting the support of those Houses.93 Instead, the Lower Houses moved on to considering a rearrangement of the existing Communion Service. The fact the Houses were discussing major reordering on the Communion service showed a sea change in opinion within the Church. The idea that the service of 1662 was defective due to its ordering not following that of Sarum and other Roman Catholic Missals had once only been the view of the fringe extreme of the ritualists. Now in the beginning of the twentieth century it seemed to have become the agreed upon consensus of a large proportion of the Church. Ritualism had become the much more palatable and acceptable Anglo-Catholicism. In April 1913, the Upper House of York briefly discussed in private Committee the issue of rearranging the Communion office, but concluded that it was not the right time to discuss such an issue, which they believed “involved a reconstruction of the Prayer Book so considerable as scarcely to be brought, except with difficulty, under the terms of the King’s Letters of Business”.94 The Lower House of Canterbury were not as convinced that this issue was not within the remit of the Letters of Business. In February 1914, Report 480 was presented to the House, which recommended alterations to the Communion Service.95 It recommended integrating the Prayer of Oblation into the Eucharistic prayer after the consecration, followed by the Lord’s Prayer and the Prayer of Humble Access before finally reaching the administration of the sacrament.96 Thomas Strong, proposing the recommendations, said that the committee had noticed the Lower House of Canterbury’s rejection of the suggestion allowing the Communion Office of 1549 as an alternative; he saw the debate as showing that It was the Service, above all others, with reference to which one would least wish to encourage alternative uses. At the same time, there was a feeling that the Office as it at present stood was not wholly satisfactory. The Committee, therefore, had ventured to propose a re-arrangement of the existing Office, so as to bring it more into harmony with regular liturgical form.97

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Strong’s last statement, about bringing the service “into harmony with regular liturgical form”,98 can be read in two ways. Either many parishes were already rearranging the 1662 service along the lines of the proposed revision,99 a revision which would then legalise this ‘regular’ practice, or it was about bringing the order into line with the order found in older Roman missals, such as Sarum. Sadly, Strong’s comments in this debate do not inform us which of these two readings he had in mind. The Committee’s proposals were met with noisy opposition from the Evangelicals in Convocation. Canon Aitken of Norwich made clear that “It seemed to him that the Prayer of Oblation came far better after Communion than before. What was it that they presented to God? It was not their own selves apart from Him, but their own selves through and in Him.”100 Henry Wace said how these recommendations exemplified how “no concession had been made to his side of the Church—not one”.101 However Wace’s opposition to the measure was more political than theological: “When he saw that every movement made was in the direction of putting the evangelical side of the Church at a disadvantage, he felt obliged to resist with great reluctance the proposal to make the concession which was now being considered.”102 With even Wace only opposing with ‘great reluctance’, it is unsurprising that the motion for reordering passed by 79 votes for to 8 against.103 With such a strong majority, it was clear that there were few defenders left for the traditional Reformed Eucharist service of Cranmer; on this point the Ritualists had won.

Revision, Reservation, and the First World War, 1914–1918 The First World War is often portrayed as a major interruption to the Prayer Book revision progress. John Maiden talks of “the unexpected delay caused by the war [which] changed the context in which the process was to take place”.104 For Maiden “The evolution of wartime spirituality and the substantial advance of Anglo-Catholicism had a significant influence on the Church of England.”105 This section will raise substantial questions about Maiden’s claim. In particular, the advent of conflict in the summer 1914 did not bring a halt to the revision process. Martell recognised that the revision process was not held up by the war, but argued that Davidson would have preferred that it was.106 Studying Bell’s biography proves this not to have been the case. In April 1915, Sir Edward Clarke, a

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member of the Royal Commission of the last decade, presented a petition asking the Archbishop “to postpone until after the war any further action or discussion in Convocation any further action or discussion in Convocation respecting the Revision of the Prayer Book”.107 Davidson’s reply sought to both placate Clarke and to inform him that the process would continue. With regard to the interruption the war had brought to normal affairs he wrote that “I do not think that this difficulty is operative within the Convocation itself. We are approaching the close of deliberations which have occupied an inordinately long time. Very few members of Convocation are prevented by duties connected with the War from giving us their help in completing, so far as Convocation itself is concerned, the task assigned to us.”108 Davidson also affirmed his personal view that any revision must go to the Representative Church Council before any reply was sent to the crown,109 but he did not see this as necessitating a delay in the Revision process. Instead, Davidson thought this forced the process to continue, and at increasing speed as he wanted “Convocation to be ready, by the time the War is over, to submit its suggestions for the consideration of Churchmen generally”.110 Lay approval, and not lay involvement, was what the revision process required for Davidson, and so the war need not interrupt this. Davidson reiterated these comments before a full synod of Canterbury in the same month.111 The second half of Maiden’s claim is that the war ‘catholicised’ the process. As this chapter has demonstrated the central catholicising elements of the revision process, vestments and reservation, had been substantially agreed upon before the war. In light of this, to argue that the First World War fundamentally changed the shape and process of Prayer Book revision is really to argue that the lay approval Davidson called for would not have occurred without the lay religious experience of the First World War. Studies in British religious experience during the First World War primarily focus on those who served in the armed forces on the western front. These studies emphasise the different religious material culture soldiers were exposed to on the western front. For example, Michael Snape has emphasised the exposure of British soldiers to roadside crucifixes in France. Snape correctly identifies that “In four years, Protestant Britons encountered a Catholic landscape in numbers unprecedented since the Reformation but there was little or no animosity towards a symbol that was historically alien to the landscape of Protestant Britain. In fact, and as sundry witnesses testified, Protestant soldiers betrayed ‘no dogmatic aversion’ towards them and they often bought miniature

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c­ rucifixes as souvenirs or for use as amulets.”112 However, the growing acceptance of a material culture of Roman Catholicism did not mean a growth in acceptance and belief in the theology behind them. In fact the beliefs Snape identifies a growth in are distinctly unorthodox, such as fortune telling and fatalism.113 The work of J.M. Winter into Spiritualism in the First World War shows the growth of this non-Christian belief as “the experience of the trenches could not easily be explained in conventional theological (or indeed in any other) rational terms. For this reason a host of spiritualist images, stories, and legends proliferated during the conflict among British … troops.”114 Again the evidence points to a growth in non-Christian beliefs and not Catholic ones. Beyond material culture Roman Catholic chaplains appear to have been held in higher esteem than their Anglican counterparts, something Edward Madigan puts down to growing resentment towards the British establishment amongst the mainly Irish Roman Catholic chaplains after the Easter Rising of 1916 and “the fact that they often spoke with Irish accents, [which] meant that to ordinary English rankers and officers Catholic padres ‘lacked the haw-haw voice’. The social factors that often made it difficult for Anglican chaplains to establish a rapport with Anglican troops did not therefore work against Catholic chaplains in the same way.”115 Madigan goes on to stress that Roman Catholic chaplains were “generally preaching to the converted whereas Anglican padres often had to struggle to get their troops, many of whom were Anglican only in a very nominal sense, to respond to their ministrations”.116 Respect for representatives of Churches does not represent acceptance of their creeds. Ultimately, studies of the religious experience on the western front do not demonstrate an acceptance of elements of Roman Catholic theology amongst those serving. Although there was undoubtedly a greater exposure to Catholic material culture due to the war, the Prayer Book debates were not primarily focused on material culture, and when they were this was in relation to vestments rather than roadside crucifixes. Instead the Prayer Book debates were focused on doctrinal theology and how this was best expressed in liturgical terms, matters which as limited in their widespread appeal before the war as they were during and after. With this evidence it must be assumed that the proposals for the revised Prayer Book were just as likely to face lay approval before the War as they did from the laity after the First World War. If there was evidence that the House of Laity of the National Assembly which would emerge after the war to give lay people a voice had a large constituent of men who had served at the front in the war, there

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might be room for such an argument. From my own superficial analysis it appears most of its members were of an older generation who did not see active service during the war. Beyond the western front, the War had an effect on the religious lives of those at home. But studies which look at beliefs of those on the home front suggest a collapse in Christian beliefs, rather than a growth in Catholic ones. Alan Wilkinson identified that “At the beginning of the war, it was widely asserted that a religious revival was under way.”117 Yet, as Albert Marrin rather colourfully argued, the war resulted in a “loss of faith, compounded by the irrationalism and bloodlust of the tub-­thumping German-haters, [which] drove hitherto devout churchgoers from the fold and prevented new ones from coming in”.118 Within the Church of England this religious collapse was exemplified by the failure of the National Mission of Repentance and Hope, a movement in which William Temple played a leading role, which sought to create non-Prayer Book services which could better reflect the mood amongst the populace about the war.119 Those who look for a religious revival amongst the British populace during the war will be, like those who led the National Mission, severely disappointed. The Upper House of York, meeting in April 1915, was not as convinced as Davidson that the process must continue. Francis Jayne, Bishop of Chester, proposed a motion urging the House to continue the revision process.120 This had been preceded by a speech by the Bishop of Ripon, Thomas Drury, calling for unity: “the nation having with marvellous results abandoned controversial discussions, the question arose as to how far that line of conduct should be followed in the suppression of controversy in matters theological.”121 Norman Straton, the Bishop of Newcastle, led the charge against Jayne’s motion, proposing an amendment to postpone all discussion of the Ornaments Rubric and the Communion service till after the war.122 This would have had the effect of stopping all of the Upper House’s work on Prayer Book revision, as these were the last two major areas left to discuss. The Bishop of Sodor and Man, Denton Thompson, agreed with Straton’s amendment “feeling that these discussions were inappropriate at a time when the nation was plunged into sorrow and depression”.123 He drew a comparison to the Suffragette movement, observing that “Even the Suffragettes had ceased to adopt their militant policy.”124 If a group so committed to their cause that they were willing to destroy property had decided the needs of the war was so grave that they must cease operations, surely, for Thompson, the Church

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should take the same approach with Prayer Book reform. Lang, however, felt such comparisons were like chalk and cheese as “there was no real analogy between the discussions of the House and the partisan discussions in the House of Commons, or industrial disputes”.125 This was either a naive statement, or a dishonest one as, by Lang’s own admission, the discussions in the Upper House of York alone had been strongly influenced by the partisanship in the House, especially from the Evangelical wing.126 Such partisanship can also be seen to have influenced this debate, as many of those who supported the Newcastle amendment had previously spoken against Prayer Book revision. How much the war had furthered their belief that it should be unaltered, or to what extent the conflict simply provided a convenient foundation for their argument is hard to tell. In the end the amendment fell, but only by four votes for and five against.127 On the same day in the Lower House Canon Merriman of Manchester proposed that the Lower House might “have a truce of peace”128 and pause its discussions till after the war. In response the Prolocutor read Davidson’s reply to Clarke’s petition.129 In the ensuing debate Canon Hodgins of Liverpool asked “Was it fitting that the Church alone should seem to be divided in such a day of calamity, that they of all others should not fulfil the prayer of our Lord, ‘that all may be one’?”130 Ultimately the Lower House voted “by a large majority”131 to continue its process of Prayer Book revision. With these protestations over, the business of revision continued. In February 1915 Report 487 of a Joint Committee of both Houses of Canterbury presented a harmonisation of the recommendations of both Houses.132 It called for all changes to be in a separate authorised volume and not integrated into the existing Prayer Book.133 The report advocated both modernising reforms, such as alternate shortened introduction for Morning Prayer,134 and the main catholicising reforms; the reordering of the Communion Service,135 and the allowance of reservation for communion of the sick.136 York likewise received the report of its Joint Committee in February 1915, which along with harmonising the views of both Houses of York, also attempted to integrate those of the Houses of Canterbury.137 York’s report also aligned with the trend of the revision process, recommending both modernising, and catholicising elements. The report recommended moving the Prayer of Humble Access “to the position it held in 1544”,138 presumably a misprint recommending moving it to its position in the 1549 Prayer Book. It also recommended reservation for the purpose of the communion of the sick.139 The York Committee asked for more time to consider what its recommendation would be when it came

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to the Ornaments Rubric.140 Following from this, the Lower House of York voted in February by 35 to 16 that questions relating to the Ornaments of the Minister and Church, a central theme of the Royal Commission and the early discussions about a reply, did not fall under the issues raised by the Royal Letters of Business.141 These reports mark how starkly the revision process of 1915 differed from that of 1906. This was not tinkering around the edges to bring Anglo-Catholics into the fold of legality, whilst shining a light on illegal ritualist practices, but rather wholesale reform, to make the Prayer Book of 1662 represent the Church of England in the twentieth century. In February 1915, the Lower House of York accepted the proposal to move the Prayer of Humble Access,142 whilst in July the Upper House made clear it wanted no such change to the structure of Communion.143 Similar disagreement was present in the discussions in the Upper House of Canterbury in April 1915 surrounding reorganisation of the order of the Communion Service. The Bishop of London, Arthur Winnington-Ingram, warned that “nothing was more hotly opposed by the whole Evangelical party in his Diocese” than the reordering of the Communion service, “This was the one thing which they were most afraid of”.144 Winnington-­ Ingram spoke of the unifying character of the Communion service: “He had been going all around the deaneries celebrating in the churches; sometimes the Rural Dean was an Evangelical, sometimes a High Churchman; but at least they had had one Communion Service. He might have had to stand at the north end sometimes when the Rural Dean was an Evangelical, and take the east end position when he was not; but anyhow, they always had the same Service.”145 The majority of the bishops of the Upper House agreed with Winnington-Ingram, with only 5 voting for the reordering, and 15 against.146 Henry Wace in the Lower House of Canterbury in February 1916 called for a pause in the task of forming a reply, and for the cessation of all discussion of reordering the Communion Service. “[I]f those questions were actively put forward they must divide the Church, both clergy and laity, and the laity perhaps even more than the clergy, at a moment when the absolute unity of both clergy and laity was essential.”147 Wace’s former reluctance to oppose these plans, demonstrated in the debates in 1914, gives credence to his concerns here. He was not using hypothetical divisions as an excuse to oppose the reordering. These appeals however fell on deaf ears, and the Lower House stuck to the proposals it had espoused in 1914.

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In these final stages of deliberation around reordering the Communion service, the Lower Houses put pressure on the Upper Houses to consent to the reordering of the service. In York, the Lower House voted in November 1915 to reject the Upper House’s rejection of a reordering of the Communion service.148 A full synod of York met in February 1916 to try and solve the final discrepancies between the views of the two Houses.149 However they failed to agree upon a united opinion on reordering the Communion service.150 By February 1918, the Upper House of Canterbury had been forced to concede that the Lower House would not change its position on reordering the Communion service. Edgar Gibson, Bishop of Gloucester, proposed that the Upper House approve the recommendations of the Lower House from 1914.151 What followed was a debate in which it emerged that very few of the bishops were clear about what their position on this proposition was. “There was in the first Prayer Book of Edward VI the fuller, more ornate service, following largely ancient Eastern liturgies”152 stated Frederic Chase, in a speech that appeared at first to be an argument for changing the order. “On the other hand”, Chase went on to say “they had the simpler form of their present Prayer Book, a form which in many ways went back to the Upper Room itself”.153 Defending the “simple, severe, and chaste beauty in the service as it stood”, Chase said that “he always felt some vexation when he heard it disparaged”.154 Concluding his contradictory speech, Chase called for a conference, with representatives from all wings of the Church, to agree a way forward for possible changes to the Communion Service.155 Randall Davidson spoke against the idea of agreeing with the Lower House, because he believed it would be unfair to ask parish priests to choose whether they would use the established Communion service, or the one contained in the future appendix.156 Davidson was not alone in speaking against the motion, with Bertram Pollock, the Bishop of Norwich praising the clear distinction between the 1662 service, and its roots in the 1552 service, and the preceding Roman missals: “It would have been a grave misfortune if the great English race had been tied for all time to customs and forms which rest ultimately upon the local traditions of an Italian Church.”157 Davidson and Pollock however were on the losing side of the argument, with 13 voting to agree with the Lower House and 7 against.158 The Upper House of York was now the only House holding out against a reorganisation of the Communion service. Whilst debates over reordering the Communion service continued during the war, so did discussions surrounding reservation. The First World

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War is often spoken about as increasing the desire for reservation of the elements. Will Adam argued that “The experience of the nation and the Church (and especially the experience of military chaplains) during the First World War informed the [Prayer Book revision] debate (in particular on the question of reservation of the sacrament for the communion of the sick).”159 Jasper, whilst acknowledging the proposals to allow reservation that emerged before the war,160 suggested that “an increased emphasis on communion and the impact of the War itself both had an effect; and some bishops began to have doubts on the wisdom of being too strict”.161 Nigel Yates argued that “The loss of thousands of servicemen in the First World War led to a demand for the relaxation of the rules governing reservation, which was seen as a factor in providing comfort to the bereaved.”162 John Maiden speaks of “The evolution of wartime spirituality and the substantial advance of Anglo-Catholicism” during the war,163 concluding that “The great shadow of death looming over the nation caused wounded spirits to yearn for a more sacramental, tangible and comforting form of religion.”164 Bell (who had himself lived through the war, as Davidson’s chaplain) claimed that “The emotions of the time—the tide of human grief and anxiety—made it very hard for some to observe the regulations.”165 Once again these arguments, emotive and strong as they are, are not fully supported by the evidence. As has been previously demonstrated in this chapter, by spring 1914 all Houses had supported the changing of the Prayer Book rubrics to allow for reservation for the communion of the sick, with the elements consecrated, reserved, and used on the same day. The only debate in either Convocation surrounding reservation to take place during the war was in the Upper House of Canterbury on 9 February 1917. Charles Gore, since 1911 Bishop of Oxford, brought forward a motion proposing that each bishop should have personal discretion around reservation in their diocese, but that they should all abide by the principles of the rubric as that had been set forth in Report 481 in 1914.166 Gore, a leading Anglo-Catholic, said that he brought the motion with “repugnance”,167 but he “believed the welfare and cohesion of the Church was seriously imperilled”.168 This was not an Anglo-Catholic defence of reservation, but an Anglo-Catholic attack on it. Specifically, Gore was against reservation for any purpose other than communion of the sick. He explained that he had lived and worked among and with Churchmen who loved the name of Catholic all his life, and he was certain that before he became a Bishop

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they habitually recognised that they could not have reservation of the Blessed Sacrament without the consent of the Bishop, and that they desired it only for the purpose of communicating the sick.169

Without explicitly stating what had led him to push this motion against any reservation for reasons other than communion of the sick, Gore hinted he did so in response to a petition calling for more permanent reservation.170 Winnington-Ingram did not believe Gore. He was convinced that this motion was aimed at him personally, and specifically at the practices of reservation he had been allowing within London,171 and so he stood to give an impassioned defence of what was taking place within his diocese. Initially, Winnington-Ingram said he had tried to ensure that reservation was only for the communion of the sick, and that the only person allowed into the place where the elements were reserved was the priest who was visiting the sick individual, but He frankly admitted now that the plan had broken down; it began to break down before the war, and the war had finished it; the tide of human grief and anxiety had been too great, the longing to get as near as possible to the Sacramental Presence of our Lord had been too urgent, and as he had ventured to say to some of their Lordships in private, so he said again to-day: ‘You might just as well have stood in Palestine in the path of 50,000 people who thought our Lord was in a certain house, as resist what is at least the same number of people who wish to lay their burden at His feet to-day.’172

Winnington-Ingram went on to extol the virtue of his lapse: “It seemed to him then just one of those occasions when the Church of England was tested as to whether it could rise to a large and generous view and like a true mother shew that her heart was big enough to embrace some of the most devout and loving of her children.”173 Private conversations had been taking place along similar lines, as Bell found in correspondence between Gore and Davidson in 1915.174 Bell saw in this correspondence Gore signalling “his intention of abandoning his stand”175 against reservation for purposes other than communion of the sick. Instead this seems to have been a similar protest as Gore would present in Convocation in 1917, with Gore complaining of the allowance of reservation in London and Chichester, where he believed “Reservation is allowed in the open Church, and the Blessed Sacrament so Reserved becomes at once an occasion and centre of worship.”176 In reply, Davidson urged Gore to remain steadfast

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in opposing reservation for purposes other than the communion of the sick,177 which Gore affirmed was his position, in the hope that they all might convince Winnington-Ingram to stop allowing a wider practice in his diocese.178 This correspondence with Gore culminated in a letter from Davidson to Winnington-Ingram on 16 June 1915, in which the Archbishop showed his awareness of the practice of public reservation in the Diocese of London, and decried the situation. Writing to Winnington-­ Ingram, Davidson could “hardly find words to say how sad I think it to be that men like those advanced skirmishers of yours should force this matter forward at the present moment when our thoughts and prayers are concentrated on other things”.179 In this letter Davidson seems to have seen allowance of public reservation not as a necessity of wartime spirituality, but as unnecessary trouble and strife and a time with more than enough of both. Eventually a meeting was held on 5 July 1915 between Davidson, Gore, Winnington-Ingram, and the Bishops of Chichester and Winchester, Charles Ridgeway and Edward Talbot.180 The meeting demonstrated a deep division between the bishops. Gore did not believe it was right that he was telling those in his diocese that they could only reserve for use for the communion of the sick, when bishops in other diocese in the same province, governed by the same rules as he was, were allowing reservation for devotion.181 The fault line fell between Gore and Talbot on one side, who were not allowing public reservation, and Winnington-Ingram and Ridgeway on the other side, who were, and felt the need to defend their actions. Davidson reported in a memorandum on the meeting that Winnington-Ingram “practically admitted, though he did not say so in terms, that he had now departed widely from what he laid down when he described his action to the Bishops a couple of years ago. The Bishop of Chichester [Ridgeway] pressed the point that all we could rightly insist upon now is the absence of actual services formally conducted under the direction of the Clergy in connexion with the Reserved Sacrament”.182 Gore explained that although he had both affirmed both the real presence in the Eucharist and decried adoration of the elements in his work The Body of Christ,183 this was “rather what he felt to be theologically true than what he found to accord with his private feelings, or, as Winton [Winchester] called them, temptations”.184 It is worth noting that in Bell’s collection of correspondence not one mention is made of war. Neither Winnington-Ingram nor Ridgeway claimed their allowance was due to the stresses of the war, and an increased drive for it amongst the masses; the more than 50,000 people Winnington-Ingram claimed were rushing to

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see the Lord in the Sacrament in London in 1917. Comparing Bell’s narrative with the Convocation records demonstrates a hardening of Gore’s position: by 1917 he would not publically admit his “temptations” relating to reservation,185 but gave an impassioned Anglo-Catholic argument against the practice of reservation for devotion. Returning to the meeting of February 1917  in the Upper House of Canterbury, Winningford-Ingram was subject to a series of complaints from his brother bishops about reservation. John Watts-Ditchfield, Bishop of Chelmsford, attacked reservation generally, saying that it had less to do with theology or ease of use, but because clergy did not wish to celebrate communion in the houses of poor people.186 He went on to decry adoration specifically, arguing that “The Adoration of and Devotion to the Blessed Sacrament was practically unknown in the Church for the first thousand years, and if that was the case they could not call it a catholic practice.”187 The implication of Watts-Ditchfield’s statement was clear; if reservation was not an ancient catholic practice, then it was a ‘Roman’ invention. If there was one thing all wings of the Church could agree on, it was that the Church of England was not Roman Church and had been cleansed of any practice solely ‘Roman’ in invention. The Bishop of Birmingham, Henry Wakefield, was more sympathetic to Winnington-­ Ingram’s position. This is perhaps unsurprising as in 1915 Gore had identified him as allowing reservation for devotion in his diocese.188 Speaking in defence of Winnington-Ingram, Wakefield said that “He thought sometimes people wanted their imaginations strengthened by means which perhaps Bishops might not themselves require.”189 The patronising argument of Wakefield, that the weaker lay people of the Church might need more physicality than was needed by the bulwarks of the faith that were bishops, was followed by a hypothetical argument that if he was to insist on the reserved sacrament being held in a private space, people would still pray towards it in the main church.190 Bertram Pollock was unwilling, even if it was true that people desired reservation for devotion due to the strains of the war, to allow this to happen: “He believed it was rather a false idea, which at the time seemed to be largely prevalent, that during the stress of the war, truth and doctrine did not really matter much, that anything and everything was permissible because of the stress and strain of their times.”191 Ultimately the other bishops, however reluctantly, agreed with him, and Gore’s motion passed unanimously. The issue of reservation however was not settled, and it was discussed at the Bishops’ Meeting of May 1917, where “the Bishops generally agreed

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that the Draft Rubric did not allow perpetual reservation”.192 Certain unnamed bishops believed that it was “no longer possible to disallow perpetual Reservation”,193 and it was decided that a special Bishops’ Meeting should be held on 5 and 6 July to examine the issue of reservation. At the July meeting a memorandum was accepted stating that permanent reservation was not permissible under the proposed rubrical changes to the Prayer Book, and that “the Reserved Sacrament is to be used for the communion of the sick and for no other purpose whatsoever”.194 It was decided that this memorandum should be kept secret, mainly due to a belief that any such decisions should come from the Upper Houses of Convocations,195 though bishops did decide to make the memorandum public in May 1918.196 The policy towards reservation thus reaffirmed and restated throughout the war was the same as that which had been agreed by all Houses before the war. Yates argues that “This failure to respond more helpfully to the demands for clearer guidelines on reservation was a major factor in the minds of those who eventually rejected the revised Book of Common Prayer, though it is hard, in practice, to see how any guidelines could have been agreed that would have commanded general support among both clergy and laity.”197 As the second half of this study will demonstrate, there was no movement on reservation after the war, and so it seems the pressure Yates identified the bishops as failing to placate was pressure from a very small minority, and one that seems to have used the war as a reason for their views, rather than being catholicised by the war. In fact to seek for a catholicising influence during the war on Prayer Book revision is to seek in vain.

Prayer Book Revision and the National Assembly of the Church of England, 1913–1920 Parallel to the process of the revision of the Prayer Book was the revision of the very governance structures of the Church. On 4 July 1913, the Representative Church Council passed a surprisingly revolutionary motion for such a peculiar body: That there is in principle no inconsistency between the national recognition of religions and the spiritual independence of the Church and this Council requests the Archbishops of Canterbury and York to consider the ­advisability of appointing a Committee to inquire what changes are advisable in order to secure in the relations of Church and State a fuller expression of the spiritual

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independence of the Church as well as of the national recognition of religion.198

As noted above, the initial process for Prayer Book revision had led to deep anxiety amongst the Church towards the idea of Parliament assessing the details of the Prayer Book, and a belief that only the Church had the right to revise its liturgy.199 This resulted in a simplistic Two Kingdom theology, only concerned with what was within the realm of the Church, against a perceived infringement of the realm of the State. In this view there was the Kingdom of Christ, the Church which had the right to review, revise, and approve its Prayer Book, coupled with a State Kingdom which, through Parliament, had to authorise such revision, because of a historic set-up, rather than such a role being ordained by God.200 The Representative Church Council’s motion emerged out of this context, seeking a way to ensure the Church’s self-governance, thus taking powers away from Parliament the Church felt should not reside there. In response to the motion the Archbishops established a committee to examine possibilities of the future of Church governance. In total the Committee consisted of 26 members, of which 2 resigned from the Committee during its process and 1, William Anson, died in 1914.201 The Committee’s membership was not representative of the church; all members were men, nine were priests, including Walter Frere and the rising star of London diocese William Temple, and of the lay members six were MPs, including former Prime Minister A.J.  Balfour, three were knights, three peers, and one a colonel.202 Surprisingly, however, this Committee full of establishment figures created a recommendation that would radically alter the establishment of the Church. The committee’s report, published in 1916, opened by surveying the current situation of the Church and State relationship in England: The Church of England is paralysed in some directions because it has not power to adjust the organisation and the rules and manuals of worship which it inherits from past centuries to the deeply changed conditions of the present day. The wheels of the ecclesiastical machine croak and groan and sometimes refuse to move. Corporate discipline is ineffective because our rules and procedure are in many directions quite antiquated.203

The report continually referred back to the Prayer Book revision process. It made the point that “The existing Prayer Book was prepared by

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Convocation and was not altered by Parliament”,204 whilst ignoring the fact that the book only gained authority by parliamentary act, and the infamous decision to add the ‘Black Rubric’ by the Privy Council.205 It also made the claim that “The Church, as an institution inherently progressive and self-developing, is fully conscious of its need of reform.”206 Questionably ‘progressive’, the Church of England was undoubtedly— and increasingly—aware of a desire to reform its Church Governance. Not only had the war not stunted ideas within the Church that Parliament was not the body to govern the church, it had increased and matured them. As a result of discussions about British wartime policy, clergy in the Church of England had a more mature discussion about what could be said to be under the sole jurisdiction of the state.207 As John D.  Zimmerman said “the Great War of 1914–1918 threatened to completely obscure the Church’s needs. Yet it was during the war years, when it might be less expected, that Church reform became a definite possibility.”208 The Report of the Archbishop’s Committee was the impetus for this change, presenting a proposal to reform the Representative Church Council to make it the main constitutional body of the Church. This reformed Representative Church Council would consist of the four Houses of Convocations, constituted as a House of Bishops and a House of Clergy, and a “House of Laymen”. This would be a new House of Laity, more democratically accountable to, and more representative of, the lay people of the Church of England than the current ones. Lay members of Churches would elect to Parochial Church Councils (PCCs), in many parishes replacing a pre-existing lay council, now to be standardised and made mandatory across the Church,209 and empowered to oversee the care of the Parish and its finances (leaving its pastoral care to the priest). The PCC members would then elect to their Diocesan Conference (a diocese-wide version of the PCC), who would in turn elect representatives to the House of Laymen.210 There was to be no gender restriction on lay voters to the PCC, or on PCC representatives, but all higher lay representatives, including the members of the House of Laymen, were to be men.211 The constitution that would outline the makeup of the assembly, how its various Houses were elected, and how it would pass legislation before it reached Parliament was to be an attached appendix to the legislation put before Parliament to allow this new body to exist,212 again a move that was intended to avoid Parliament having a say in how the Church’s ­self-­governance should operate.213 This reconstituted RCC would be able to pass its own legislation regarding all aspects of the Church’s life, which

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would then be sent to an Ecclesiastical Committee formed of 25 privy councillors who would recommend Royal Assent or for the legislation to be rejected, through a report direct to the Crown, which would lie before Parliament for 40 days, where Parliament could pass a motion to reject the measure, but did not need to pass any legislation to approve it. After those 40 days the legislation would receive Royal Assent.214 There would be no parliamentary debates about Church legislation, no parliamentary legislation regarding the Church that had not been initiated by the Church; this was an answer to the prayers of many in the Church, self-governance and establishment. The report was mostly met with great enthusiasm within the Church. Both Lower Houses discussed the matter in February 1917. Canterbury’s Lower House sent the report to a committee, who were able to report back by March 1917 to recommend that while the report’s recommendations were not perfect, they were a good base which should be acted upon immediately.215 In the Lower House of York the majority were happy to recommend the report, although a noisy one-man protest was staged by the Dean of Durham, Hensley Henson. Henson attempted to instead pass a motion saying that the House “regrets that the large and most difficult subject of the Relations of Church and State should have been brought before the public during the war”.216 Proposing his counter-motion Henson claimed that the characteristic figure of the English Established Church is the Parish Priest—at least it was. His independence, his pastoral freedom, and his security of tenure, were the great circumstances which made the profession of an English clergyman, in spite of many disadvantages, attractive to men of virile and independence character.217

This he thought would be challenged by the PCCs. The issue Henson had with the scheme, therefore, was less about self-governance and more with the introduction of PCCs, which he believed represented an infringement on the independence of parish priests to do whatever they liked without being accountable to their parishioners. His other issue was the voice the proposal would give to women: “It gave a principle voting power to women. It was proposed that the franchise of the Church of England in future should be overwhelmingly feminine—at least to the extent of three or four to one.”218 Henson’s horror wasn’t only being answerable to the laity, but to a laity that was comprised overwhelmingly of women! Susan

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Mumm when discussing the ‘feminisation’ of Anglicanism in the nineteenth century wrote of how many anti-Ritualists believed “that Church of England worship was becoming too attractive to women, was increasingly welcoming to effete men, and was thus off-putting to masculine men”.219 Henson was clearly determined that such ‘masculine men’ would not be put off the idea of the priesthood by having to be answerable to women. To placate this misogynist speaker who would not end his protest, the original motion was amended to state that “this House without expressing any opinion as to the merits of the scheme proposed by the Archbishops’ Committee on the Relations of Church and State commends the Report to the earnest study and attention of the Church”.220 The fact that the strongest criticism of the scheme to be found in Convocation was from one man, and was not against self-government but the idea of priests being answerable to their congregations, indicates how widely accepted and desired the scheme put forward was within the Church. It was this unanimity of feeling that allowed for both the speedy process by which the proposals became reality, and the lack of debates in the Convocations about the process. It took over two decades for the Church of England to put a revised Prayer Book before Parliament, it took just four years to institute the biggest change in Church Government England had seen since the Commonwealth era. The majority of the discussion was left to the RCC, which quickly produced a report in 1918 which slightly amended the constitution of the reformed RCC, but left most of the scheme intact.221 The major change was the renaming of the reformed RCC as the National Assembly of the Church of England. One of the more interesting amendments was to allow women to be representatives at every level apart from in the Assembly itself.222 The RCC approved the measure,223 but then had to send the measure to Convocations to get their approval since they were still the constitutional decision-making bodies of the Church.224 Both Convocations dutifully approved the measure with little or no debate in May 1919.225 In their recent commentary on the contemporary Church of England, Andrew Brown and Linda Woodhead claimed that the National Assembly was the result of “The bishops [who] didn’t trust laypeople to use power responsibly, and fought successfully against the idea of giving them a vote. They proposed instead an arcane system which would give a semblance of democracy while allowing them to retain power.”226 This is a rather unfair commentary on a process in which the vast majority of bishops played a leading role in empowering the laity and giving them a constitutional voice in the Church. This leading

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role was to be demonstrated in the House of Lords. In June 1919 Davidson powerfully proposed the scheme, which had become known as the Enabling Bill, in the House of Lords: “I do not want to exaggerate. We can go on as we are. We shall not perish in the doing of our work. I would rather go on as we are than diminish in any practical or real way the national character or comprehensive activity of the Church of England. We can go on as we are, but we can go on only lamely and hampered and crippled in our work.”227 Passage through the Lords was relatively easy, although the Bishop of Manchester, Edmund Knox, spoke against the measure, criticising the fact that the constitution was not part of the proposed Enabling Bill and thus could not be discussed by Parliament.228 However Knox did not in the end vote against the bill, with all bishops either voting for the Bill or abstaining.229 The Church was forced to amend the process of how legislation would be put in front of Parliament, with Parliament now having to vote for the legislation for it to receive Royal Assent, a longer period of time to do so than the 40 days originally envisioned, and the Ecclesiastical Commission now being made up of Peers and MPs.230 These amendments conceded a greater, albeit not a substantial, retention of Parliamentary powers over Church legislation, and ensured the support of the Government for the Bill. With these concessions the Church found passage through the Commons as easy, if not easier without bishops speaking against the measure, as it had been in the Lords. In the second reading 304 MPs voted for the Bill against 16 noes,231 and the third reading was uncontested.232 The dissenters however voiced their opposition strongly, with Harry Barnes, MP for Newcastle-upon-Tyne East, stating that “if there is a model in any part of the world upon which the proposal for self-government by the Church has been built it is only to be found in Russia. As far as I can understand the political principles embodied in this constitution, they are purely Bolshevist.”233 Barnes’ comparison of the scheme to the ideas of Bolshevism suggest that the increased role of the laity, and a lay involvement in governance independent of Parliament, alarmed some in Parliament as being revolutionary, and socialist, in character. These are not labels that were traditionally associated with the Church of England. Accusations of Bolshevism aside, the Enabling Bill was a complete triumph for the Church. By 1920 elections had been held and the first meeting of the National Assembly could be held, a mere four years after its proposal. This speed-tracked reform can be put down to two things. Firstly, the Prayer Book revision process had unified the Church’s opinion

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towards Parliament, showing that all sides felt the State did not have the right to legislate for the Church.234 This Two Kingdom theology needed two legislatures to function, and so the National Assembly was the clear answer to the problem of a Church that believed it solely had the right to create its own laws and rule its affairs, but existed in a constitutional set-up where such power lay solely with the State Parliament. Secondly, as this chapter has shown, by the second half of the war, the Prayer Book revision process was clearly nearly at an end. As the dénouement of the revision process approached, the prospect of putting the Prayer Book in front of Parliament became an ever-increasing reality. Martell presents the formation of the National Assembly as concurrent to the revision process, but unrelated to it; an event that “substantially altered” the “course of Prayer Book revision”, by accident rather than design.235 Instead, this section has shown that the creation of the National Assembly provided a Church legislature to present the Prayer Book to instead of the State one, and a process by which Parliamentary scrutiny of the Prayer Book could be minimised. However, as the 1920s would show, the National Assembly did not provide as easy a detour round Westminster debate as it had first appeared.

From the Convocations to the Assembly, 1918–1920 With the Church now on its way to a significantly increased degree of self-­ government, it was time for them to complete the long journey of Prayer Book revision. In October 1918 a special joint meeting of representatives of all four Houses met at Church House.236 “It consisted of 50 persons, 12 from the Upper House of Canterbury Convocation, and 20 from the Lower House, together with 6 from the Upper House of York, and 12 from the Lower House.”237 Over eight days they met to compare the proposals put forward by each House,238 creating a report containing one set of proposed revision that was then sent to both Convocations, in the hope that each House could submit an almost identical reply to the Letters of Business. The report recommended reservation on the lines that had been agreed to by all Houses before the war, with the elements to be reserved and used “on the same day and with as little delay as may be” and to be kept in such a way “that they be not used for any other purpose whatsoever”.239 However on the matter of reordering Communion they passed a motion asking for a separate conference to be established, along the lines proposed by Frederic Chase in 1917, with representatives of all wings of

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the Church.240 When the report came before the Lower House of the Convocation of York in February 1919 there was clear feeling amongst members that they were ready to end the revision process. Henley Henson’s successor as Dean of Durham, James Welldon, pointed out “that the debates upon the Answer to the Royal Letter of Business had now ranged over a longer time than any Ecclesiastical Council with the exception of the Council of Trent, and they were rapidly approaching the length of that Council. Since the Royal Letter of Business first came before the House two-thirds of its members had passed away by death or otherwise, and if there was any longer delay there would be no one left who was present when the debates commenced, and then he had no doubt someone would say it was necessary to begin all over again.”241 To speed up the process, Welldon proposed a motion to accept every proposal of the report en bloc.242 Archdeacon How of Halifax “said they were really getting tired of having no result, and nothing coming of their deliberations”.243 How was keen to point out that when they had started the revision process “twelve years ago he was one of those who was strongly against anything in the form of a compromise, he wanted to fight everything and here they had something that was frankly a compromise, and he was willing to accept it”.244 Exhaustion was clearly the order of the day in the Lower House of York and Welldon’s motion succeeded.245 The Upper and Lower Houses of Canterbury harmonised their final proposals in February 1919,246 with some minor tinkering by the Lower House of Canterbury, which was accepted by the Upper House.247 The Upper House of York also did some minor editing, such as changing the words of Confirmation so it did not sound as though this was the first time the confirmand received the Holy Spirit.248 The end was clearly in sight. The Communion conference met in May 1919 at Lambeth Palace. Reflecting on it in the meeting of Canterbury Convocation the next year, Edgar Gibson reported: At the first meeting there was a full discussion, and it soon emerged that the Evangelicals were most unwilling to agree to the change of the position of the Prayer of Oblation. It was that to which they took the greatest exception, but they were very far from taking up generally a non possumus attitude. They were quite willing to consider proposals that might be made for rearrangement or for the addition of fresh words to the Service, but they pleaded very strongly that the Prayer of Oblation should be left in its present place.249

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Although the Lower House of Canterbury had proposed such a change to the position of the Prayer of Oblation, the conference agreed not to do so.250 It did move the Prayer of Humble Access to follow the Comfortable Words, and the Lord’s Prayer to immediately after the Prayer of Consecration and before the reception of Communion.251 It also added to the end of the Words of Institution what it called “An Act of Remembrance, an Act of Thanksgiving, and a Prayer for the Holy Spirit”.252 The form suggested was as follows: Wherefore, O Father, we thy humble servants, having in remembrance before thee the precious death of thy dear Son, his mighty resurrection and glorious ascension, looking also for his coming again, do render unto thee most hearty thanks for the innumerable benefits which he hath procured unto us. And we pray thee of thine almighty goodness to send upon us and upon these thy gifts thy holy and blessed Spirit, who is the Sanctifier and the Giver of life, to whom with thee and thy Son Jesus Christ be ascribed by every creature in earth and heaven all blessing, honour, glory, and power, now henceforth and for evermore. Amen.253

The Acts of Remembrance and Thanksgiving were similar to the opening of the Prayer of Oblation in the 1549 Prayer Book, though in slightly modernised language and with less references to the celebration of communion as an offering to God.254 This was a compromise reordering, using the 1549 Prayer Book as resource rather than guide; not recreating the old service, but creating a new order, based in the 1552 Communion service, but influenced by those who desired the 1549 service. The addition of the epiclesis, or what they called the ‘Prayer for the Holy Spirit’, after the words of institution was also not strictly a move closer to Rome. Its placement after the words of Institution implied that the repetition of Christ’s words at the Last Supper did not transform the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, as held in Roman Catholicism.255 Instead the inclusion of an epiclesis could either represent a second place in the prayer where the bread and wine could be viewed as becoming the body and blood of Christ, or imply the drawing together of those who partook in the Communion through the Holy Spirit. This was Anglican ambiguity, a communion service designed to please both Anglo-Catholics and Evangelicals, without offending either. The report of the Communion Committee came before both Convocations in February 1920. The votes on the issue were not as clear-­

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cut as they had been before the war. The Lower House of York voted to adopt the report’s proposals as their own, but only by a vote of 34 for and 29 against.256 In the Upper House of York, Lang had to use his deciding vote as President to stop a wrecking motion to reject all the recommendations of the report.257 Instead the House accepted all the recommendations but removed any reference in the epiclesis to the Spirit being sent onto the elements.258 The Evangelical Bishops in the Upper House of York were clearly less willing to create a compromise liturgy than those clergy who had been at the Communion Conference. The Upper House of Canterbury were much happier with the compromise, accepting the recommendations of the report by 14 to 2, with only Chase and Pollock, the two major Evangelicals in the House, voting against.259 Chase said he did so because “He dreaded parish churches being more divided than at present into two separate classes, one in which the present Service of the Prayer Book was used, and one in which the revised form was used.”260 Guy Warman, Bishop of Truro, did not allow Chase’s argument to stand, pointing out that this was only a temporary measure.261 This view was reiterated the following day by Hensley Henson, now Bishop of Hereford, who pointed out that the proposal was intended to offer “an alternative for the time being in the hope that it would ultimately replace the existing book”.262 The Lower House of Canterbury accepted the report by 62 to 54,263 another smaller margin that those from the pre-war vote. If the Church’s theology had shifted during the war, it appears to have been in the Protestant direction, with stronger opposition against a Communion Service that would have made significant concessions to Anglo-Catholics. With the question of the revision of the Communion service seemingly settled in the first group of sessions of 1920, at the second group of sessions in April, both Convocations were ready to end their long labouring. To mark this Randall Davidson came to address the Lower House of Canterbury. “Thirteen and a half years have passed. We are now, I venture to hope, near, if we have not reached, the end of the deliberations upon our answer.”264 Davidson’s hope was not in vain, and before the group of sessions was over both Upper and Lower House of Canterbury agreed to the final proposals embodied in Report 533.265 York did similarly at a full synod on 29 April, agreeing with the proposals contained in Canterbury’s report, although at the last minute Edmund Knox introduced an amendment calling for no change in the Communion service. This passed with a very slim majority of 28 to 25, and was subsequently ignored.266 This was a tiny majority amongst a tiny number of members, with it being unclear

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if this was due to low attendance at the synod or a large number of members abstaining. What it did show was the opposition to reordering the Communion service had only grown stronger since 1914. Although at the end of April 1920 both Convocations sent official replies to the Letters of Business to the King, Davidson in his address to the Lower House of Canterbury showed that this was now largely a formality. Discussing the hypothetical, Davidson reasoned that if they had sent their reply earlier than 1920, the next step “would have rested with the Crown, or with the Government, or rather I should say with Parliament, including the Bishops … to decide what the next step should be, or in what form ultimate legislation should be proposed”.267 However with the great changes that had occurred in the Church’s governance in the last four years, this was no longer the case. “With the large body of the National Church Assembly of bishops, clergy, and laity must now rest the whole initiative as to what is done. The Convocational reply to the Letter of Business will in itself, and by itself, be inoperative practically until the new National Church Assembly formulates a proposal in the shape of a Bill for which it seeks Parliamentary consent.” It had taken nearly 14 years for the Church to reply to the Letters of Business, but as Davidson suggested, in that time the Church of England had not only rewritten sections of the Prayer Book, but they had also rewritten the whole church settlement in England, radically changing how the Church was governed. They had ensured, so Davidson thought at the time, a way to stop Parliament debating the contents of the Prayer Book, revised or not, and so had allowed themselves to control their own destiny. It was no accident that the replies to the Letters of Business were sent just before the first meeting of the National Assembly was to take place. The theology that had governed the Prayer Book revision process during these long years of debate was not predominantly concerned with catholicising or modernising the Prayer Book; rather it was concerned with reshaping ecclesiology. Those groups that had been divided in the nineteenth century had found themselves united by a revulsion to the idea of Parliamentary supremacy over the Church, and so they had therefore devoted the energy of the final stages of the revision process at rewriting the church settlement. Just under 14 years to attempt to rewrite the Prayer Book, just under 4 to rewrite the Reformation. The process of revision that took place in the Convocations from 1906 to 1920 might appear sluggish, but it is remarkable when one considers that in those 14 years the Church not only agreed on revisions intending to create a Prayer Book that could

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encompass Anglo-Catholics and Evangelicals whilst also speaking to the modern world, but also to identify the Church’s issue with its relationship with Parliament, create an alternative model of church governance, and got it passed through the Church and through Parliament. From 1914, all this was achieved whilst trying to support the nation through the greatest conflict it had seen since the Civil War. These were all remarkable achievements, but as the 1920s were to demonstrate to the Church, the National Assembly was not the Parliamentary bypass many hoped it would be.

Notes 1. R.C.D.  Jasper, The Development of the Anglican Liturgy, 1662–1980 (London: SPCK, 1989). 2. Ibid., 89. Jasper does consider some of the debates, but not in a systematic manner, instead providing a brief overview that distorts the thoroughness of the debates and their conclusions. 3. For the work done by the Commission and the evidence they gathered, see: Dan Cruickshank, From the Sublime to the Ridiculous: Ritualism and Anglo-­ Catholicism in the Evidence of the Royal Commission into Ecclesiastical Discipline, 1904–6 (London: Anglo-Catholic History Society, 2018). 4. A. Elliott Peaston, The Prayer Book Revisions of the Victorian Evangelicals (Dublin: A.P.C.K., 1963). 5. John Maiden, “The Prayer Book Controversy,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Oxford Movement, ed. Stewart J. Brown, Peter Nockles, and James Pereiro (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 532. 6. Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline: Report of the Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1906), 53. 7. Ibid., 76. 8. The material discussed in this section is explored in greater detail in Dan D. Cruickshank, “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric: Ritualism and Royal Commissions in Late Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-­Century England”, Studies in Church History 56 (2020) [in press]. 9. Nigel Yates, Anglican Ritualism in Victorian Britain, 1830–1910 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 379. 10. “The Report of the Commission: By Quartas,” The Manchester Guardian, July 5, 1906. 11. Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline: Report, 77. 12. G.K.A. Bell, Randall Davidson: Archbishop of Canterbury, Third Edition (London: Oxford University Press, 1952), 648.

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13. Ibid. 14. Ibid. 15. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Edvardo Septimo Regnante, In the Sessions of February 14, 20, 21, 22, 23; May 1, 2, 3, 4; July 3, 4; and November 13, 14, 1906 (London: National Society’s Depository, 1906), 333. 16. Jasper, Anglican Liturgy, 88. 17. Chronicle of Convocation 1906, 333. 18. Ibid. 19. Davidson to Philip Eliot, 3 October 1906; Davidson Papers, vol. 75, fol. 175. 20. Jasper, Anglican Liturgy, 88–89. 21. Chronicle of Convocation 1906, 336. 22. Ibid., 336–337. 23. John G.  Maiden, National Religion and the Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1928 (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2009), 33. 24. “The New Archbishop: A Detailed Protest by Mr. Kensit,” The Manchester Guardian, January 21, 1909. 25. Maiden, National Religion, 33. 26. Daniel Eppley, “Royal Supremacy,” in A Companion to Richard Hooker, ed. Torrance Kirby (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 524. 27. Strong, “Anglicanism and the State in the Nineteenth Century,” 97–98 and Cruickshank, “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric”. 28. Edward Charles Wickham, Revision of Rubrics: Its Purpose and Principles, Prayer-Book Revision Series, Three (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1910), 12. 29. For an overview of the history of the Ornaments Rubric in Ritualist thought see Cruickshank, “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric”. 30. Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline: Report, 75–76. 31. W.J.  Sparrow Simpson, The Use of Vestments in the English Church (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1909), 14. 32. The Ridsdale judgment of the Privy Council in 1877 had found that the use of a Eucharistic Vestment was illegal, see James Bentley, Ritualism and Politics in Victorian Britain: The Attempt to Legislate for Belief (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), 97–99. 33. Simpson, The Use of Vestments in the English Church, 14. 34. Cruickshank, “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric”. 35. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of November 22nd, 1906, and February 27th and 28th, 1907 (York: John Sampson, 1907), 5.

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36. Ibid. 37. Ibid., 6. 38. Strong, “Anglicanism and the State in the Nineteenth Century,” 111. 39. Owen Chadwick, The Victorian Church, Second Edition, Part II (London: Adam & Charles Black, 1972), 364. 40. Ibid., 365. 41. Bell, Davidson, 653. 42. This is also reflected in the numbering system used for the reports to the Houses. Each House had their own system. In Canterbury both Houses used a chronological numbering system, based on when a report was first presented to the House, but each system was independent. For example the Lower House could have Report 447 presented to it in the same month as the Upper House would have Report 407 presented to it. This would show that the Lower House had just received its 447th report, and the Upper House its 407th; both Houses were using the same system, but independently. In York Houses just tended to use titles, so a report would not have a reference number, but be known as ‘Report of Committee X to House Y’. Differences were also evident in how the Convocations published their proceedings. York would print reports as appendixes to the proceedings, whereas Canterbury would print the reports as separate publications that would then sometimes be attached to the proceedings they related to, but often were not published at all. 43. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 22nd and 23rd, 1910 (York: John Sampson, 1910), 5. 44. Jasper, Anglican Liturgy, 89. 45. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Edvardo Septimo Regnante, In the Sessions of February 14, 15; April 30, May 1, 2; July 2, 3, 1907 (London: National Society’s Depository, 1907), 71. 46. Ibid. 47. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 25th and 26th, and July 5th, 1910 (York: John Sampson, 1910), cxxxvii. 48. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Edvardo Septimo Regnante, In the Sessions of February 4, 5, 6, and May 5 and 6, 1908 (London: National Society’s Depository, 1908), 29. 49. Ibid. 50. Ibid., 33. The report here was aping the theological proverb, often attributed to Luther, “justificatio est articulus stantis et cadentis ecclesiae” [Justification is the article by which the Church stands and falls].

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51. The Advertisements of 1566 were an attempt by Archbishop Parker, on the orders of Elizabeth I, to create more uniformity across the Elizabethan Church. They provided clearer rules for what vestments clergy could wear during Eucharistic services (limited to a stole in an ordinary parish and a cope in Cathedrals) than the Ornaments Rubric had. See Peter Marshall, Heretics and Believers: A History of the English Reformation (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2017), 472–473. 52. Chronicle of Convocation 1908, 31. 53. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 20th and 21st, 1908 (York: John Sampson, 1908), lv. 54. Ibid., lvi. 55. Ibid. 56. Jasper, Anglican Liturgy, 90. 57. Ibid. 58. York Journal of Convocation May and July 1910, 192. 59. Ibid. 60. Ibid., cxxxvii. 61. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 8th, 9th and 10th, 1912 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1912), 195. 62. Ibid. 63. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The First Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of November 8, 9, 10, and 11, 1910 (London: National Society’s Depository, 1910), 287. 64. Jasper, Anglican Liturgy, 99. 65. Chronicle of Convocation November 1910, 326. 66. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 15th and 16th, 1912 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1912), 6. 67. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 18th and 19th, 1911 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1911), 213–214. 68. Peter Wickins, Victorian Protestantism and Bloody Mary: The Legacy of Religious Persecution in Tudor England (Bury St. Edmunds: Arena Books, 2012), 11. 69. Will Adam, Legal Flexibility and the Mission of the Church: Dispensation and Economy in Ecclesiastical Law (Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2011), 115. 70. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 17th and 18th, 1909 (York: John Sampson, 1909), xxi.

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71. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The First Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of May 2, 3, 4, and 5, 1911 (London: National Society’s Depository, 1911), 201. 72. Ibid. 73. Ibid. 74. Ibid., 204–205. 75. Ibid., 209–210. 76. Ibid., 212. 77. Ibid., 201. 78. Convocation of Canterbury. Upper House., No. 481. Report of the House on the Answer to Be Returned to the Royal Letters of Business (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1914), 32. 79. Bell, Davidson, 805. 80. Ibid. 81. Ibid., 806. 82. Bishops’ Meeting 5, 261–262. 83. Ibid., 262. 84. Ibid. 85. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 17, 18, 19 and 20, 1914 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1914), 189. 86. Ibid., 189–190. 87. Ibid., 201. 88. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 18th and 19th, 1914 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1914), 87. 89. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 6th and 7th, 1914 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1914), 115. 90. Diarmaid MacCulloch, Thomas Cranmer: A Life, Revised Edition (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2016), 414. 91. James Kirby, Historians and the Church of England: Religion and Historical Scholarship, 1870–1920 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 168. 92. In reality the 1637 Scottish Communion Office was the same as 1552 but with prayer of oblation placed back into the prayer of consecration and the 1549 words of administration. 93. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The First Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of July 4, 5, 6, and 7, 1911 (London: National Society’s Depository, 1911), 343.

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94. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of April 23rd and 24th, 1913 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1913), 168. 95. Convocation of Canterbury. Lower House, Committee on the Royal Letters of Business, No. 480. Modifications on the Existing Law Relating to the Conduct of Divine Services (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1914). 96. Ibid., 10–11. 97. Chronicle of Convocation February 1914, 152. 98. Ibid. 99. This conjecture points to a wider problem of knowing what historical services looked like. As this study shows, being able to say that congregations adhered to one standard Prayer Book does not mean that their services all used that liturgy in the same way, or adhered to all its rubrics. Our best knowledge of services in this period is from the evidence given to the Royal Commission into Ecclesiastical Discipline (1904–1906) and this can be useful in demonstrating how widespread certain practices seen as Ritualists in the nineteenth century were at the beginning of the twentieth (Cruickshank, From the Sublime to the Ridiculous). Even with this information it remains hard to create an image of what the average service in the Church of England looked like at the beginning of the twentieth century. 100. Chronicle of Convocation February 1914, 154. 101. Ibid., 158. 102. Ibid. 103. Ibid., 161. 104. Maiden, National Religion, 29. 105. Ibid., 31. 106. J.D.  Martell, “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28” (MA Thesis: Durham University, 1974), 21. 107. Bell, Davidson, 799. 108. Ibid., 800. 109. Ibid. 110. Ibid. 111. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of April 27, 28, 29 and 30, 1915 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1915), 207. 112. Michael Snape, God and the British Soldier: Religion and the British Army in the First and Second World War (Abingdon: Routledge, 2005), 42. 113. Ibid., 30–31. 114. J.M.  Winter, “Spiritualism and the First World War,” in Religion and Irreligion in Victorian Society: Essays in Honor of R.K.  Webb, ed. R.W. Davis and R.J. Helmstadter (Abingdon: Routledge, 1992), 191.

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115. Edward Madigan, Faith Under Fire: Anglican Army Chaplains and the Great War (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 162. 116. Ibid., 163. 117. Alan Wilkinson, The Church of England and the First World War (London: SPCK, 1978), 71. 118. Albert Marrin, The Last Crusade: The Church of England in the First World War (Durham: Duke University Press, 1974), 210. 119. See: David M. Thompson, “War, The Nation, and the Kingdom of God: The Origins of the National Mission of Repentance and Hope, 1915– 16,” Studies in Church History 20 (1983). 120. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of April 28th & 29th, and July 21st & 22nd, 1915 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1915), 161. 121. Ibid. 122. Ibid. 123. Ibid. 124. Ibid., 162. 125. Ibid. 126. Jasper, Anglican Liturgy, 90. 127. York Journal of Convocation April and July 1915, 163. 128. Ibid., 167. 129. Ibid. 130. Ibid., 169. 131. Ibid., 171. 132. Convocation of Canterbury. Joint Committee on the Royal Letters of Business, No. 487. Report of the Joint Committee (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1915). 133. Ibid., 4. 134. Ibid., 12–13. 135. Ibid., 28. 136. Ibid., 42. 137. No. 302. Report of the Joint Committee of the Two Houses of the Convocation of York, Appointed to Prepare and Report to the Houses of Convocation the Suggested Answer to the Royal Letters of Business (York: W.H.  Smith & Son, 1915). 138. Ibid., xli. 139. Ibid., xliii. 140. Ibid., xxv. 141. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 10th and 11th, 1915 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1915), 46. 142. Ibid., 67. 143. York Journal of Convocation April and July 1915, 316.

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144. Chronicle of Convocation April 1915, 293. 145. Ibid. 146. Ibid., 295. 147. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 15, 16, 17 and 18, 1916 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1916), 9. 148. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of November 24th, 1915, and February 16th and 17th, 1916 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1916), 66. 149. Ibid., 110–128. 150. Ibid., 138. 151. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 5, 6, 7 and 8, 1918 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1918), 137. 152. Ibid., 139–140. 153. Ibid., 140. 154. Ibid. 155. Ibid., 141. 156. Ibid., 143. 157. Ibid., 147. 158. Ibid., 165. 159. Adam, Legal Flexibility, 120. 160. Jasper, Anglican Liturgy, 102–103. 161. Ibid., 103. 162. Yates, Anglican Ritualism, 344. 163. Maiden, National Religion, 31. 164. Ibid. 165. Bell, Davidson, 806. 166. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 8 and 9, 1917 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1917), 81. 167. Ibid. 168. Ibid. 169. Ibid., 84. 170. Ibid., 84–85. 171. Ibid., 86. 172. Ibid. 173. Ibid., 90. 174. Bell, Davidson, 806–808.

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175. Ibid., 806. 176. Ibid., 807. 177. Ibid., 807–808. 178. Ibid., 808. 179. Ibid., 809. 180. Ibid., 810. 181. Ibid. 182. Ibid. 183. Charles Gore, The Body of Christ: An Enquiry into the Institution and Doctrine of Holy Communion, Fourth Edition (London: John Murray, 1907). 184. Bell, Davidson, 810. 185. Ibid. 186. Chronicle of Convocation February 1917, 100. 187. Ibid., 102. 188. Bell, Davidson, 807. 189. Chronicle of Convocation February 1917, 107. 190. Ibid. 191. Ibid., 114–115. 192. Bishops’ Meeting 6, 248. 193. Ibid. 194. Bell, Davidson, 814. 195. Bishops’ Meeting 6, 257. 196. Ibid., 328. 197. Yates, Anglican Ritualism, 345. 198. Convocation of Canterbury. Lower House, No. 503. Report of the Committee on the Relations Between Church and State (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1917), 1. 199. See also Dan Cruickshank, “‘Remember That in This Land There [Are] Two Kingdoms’: The Church of England’s Theology of Church and State in the First World War,” Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte/Contemporary Church History 31 (2018): 131–45. 200. Ibid. 201. The Archbishops’ Committee on Church & State: Report, with Appendices (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1916), ii. 202. Ibid. 203. Ibid., 2. 204. Ibid., 21. 205. For the Black Rubric see MacCulloch, Cramner, 525–528. 206. The Archbishops’ Committee on Church & State: Report, with Appendices, 28. 207. Cruickshank, ““Remember That in This Land…”.”

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208. John D.  Zimmerman, “A Chapter in English Church Reform: The Enabling Act of 1919,” Historical Magazine of the Protestant Episcopal Church 46 (1977): 216. 209. The Archbishops’ Committee on Church & State: Report, with Appendices, 47. 210. Ibid., 45. 211. Ibid., 41. 212. The parallels to the Prayer Book revision process and the plan to put the revisions in an appendix to avoid major Parliamentary scrutiny are obvious. 213. The Archbishops’ Committee on Church & State: Report, with Appendices, 61. 214. Ibid., 58–60. 215. Convocation of Canterbury. Lower House, No. 503. Report of the Committee on the Relations Between Church and State, 4–5. 216. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 8th and 9th, 1917 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1917), 65. 217. Ibid., 66–67. 218. Ibid., 67. 219. Susan Mumm, “The Feminization of Nineteenth-Century Anglicanism,” in The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume III: Partisan Anglicanism and Its Global Expansion 1829–c.1914, ed. Rowan Strong (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 452. 220. York Journal of Convocation February 1917, 114. 221. Report of the Committee of the Representative Church Council on the Report of the Archbishops’ Committee on Church and State (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1918). 222. Ibid., 9. 223. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Third Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of May 6, 7 and 8, 1919 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1919), 265. 224. Ibid., 266. 225. Ibid., 277, 409; The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 7th and 8th, 1919, and July 7th and 8th, 1919 (York: W.H.  Smith & Son, 1919), 127, 169. 226. Andrew Brown and Linda Woodhead, That Was the Church, That Was: How the Church of England Lost the English People (London: Bloomsbury, 2016), 52. 227. HL Deb 03 June 1919, vol 34, cc980. 228. HL Deb 01 July 1919, vol 35, cc28.

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229. HL Deb 02 July 1919, vol 35, cc151. 230. Church of England Assembly (Powers) Act 1919. 231. HC Deb 07 November 1919, vol 120, cc1894. 232. HC Deb 05 December 1919, vol 122, cc866. 233. HC Deb 07 November 1919, vol 120, cc1835. This speech serves as a timely reminder that hyperbole was not only found within the debates of Convocation. 234. Cruickshank, ““Remember That in This Land…”.”, 133–135. 235. Martell, “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28,” 25. 236. Convocation of Canterbury. Upper House., No. 517. Royal Letters of Business. Proposals for the Revision of the Book of Common Prayer Agreed to at a Conference of Members of the Four Houses of the Convocation of Canterbury and York (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1919), 3. 237. Ibid. 238. Ibid. 239. Ibid., 57. 240. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of January 22 and February 11, 12, 13, 14, 1919 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1919), 29. 241. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 12th and 13th, 1919 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1919), 36. 242. Ibid., 37. 243. Ibid. 244. Ibid. 245. Ibid., 121. 246. Chronicle of Convocation January and February 1919, 121. 247. Ibid., 224. 248. York Journal of Convocation February 1919, 62–64. 249. Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Third Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 10, 11, 12 and 13, 1920 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920), 67–68. 250. No. 529. Joint Committee on the Royal Letters of Business, Regarding the Order of Holy Communion (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920), 3. 251. Ibid. 252. Ibid. 253. Ibid., 4. 254. The 1549 Offertory Prayer opens “Wherefore, O Lorde and heaunley father, according to the Instytucyon of thy derely beloued sonne, our

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sauiour Jesu Christ, we thy humble seruauntes do celebrate, and make here before thy diuine Maiestie, with these thy holy giftes, the memoryall whyche thy sonne hath wylled us to make, hauyng in remembraunce his blessed passion, mightie resurreccyon, and glorious ascencion, renderying unto thee most hartie thankes, for the innumerable benefites procured unto us by the same.” 255. Eucharist Prayers II, III, and IV, introduced at Vatican II, did in fact contain the epiclesis after the words of Institution, but this was not the position held in any of the Roman liturgies 50 years before the Council, and in the Vatican II liturgies there is no mention of the Holy Spirit being sent onto the elements, making it clear that this is a sending on the Spirit onto the people and not the bread and wine, which have already been transformed at the words of Institution. 256. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 11th and 12th, 1920 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1920), 75. 257. Ibid., 55. 258. Ibid., 57. 259. Chronicle of Convocation February 1920, 83. 260. Ibid., 74. 261. Ibid., 82. 262. Ibid., 112. 263. Ibid., 1–2. 264. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Third Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of April 26, 27 and 28, 1920 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920), 276. 265. Ibid., 353, 370; No. 533. Royal Letters of Business. Proposals for the Revision of the Book of Common Prayer as Approved by the Convocation of Canterbury (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920). 266. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of April 28th and 29th, 1920 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1920), 216. 267. Chronicle of Convocation April 1920, 276.

Bibliography Primary Sources Convocation of Canterbury. Joint Committee on the Royal Letters of Business. No. 487. Report of the Joint Committee. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1915.

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———. Lower House. No. 503. Report of the Committee on the Relations Between Church and State. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1917. ———. Lower House, Committee on the Royal Letters of Business. No. 480. Modifications on the Existing Law Relating to the Conduct of Divine Services. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1914a. ———. Upper House. No. 481. Report of the House on the Answer to Be Returned to the Royal Letters of Business. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1914b. ———. Upper House. No. 517. Royal Letters of Business. Proposals for the Revision of the Book of Common Prayer Agreed to at a Conference of Members of the Four Houses of the Convocation of Canterbury and York. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1919. Gore, Charles. The Body of Christ: An Enquiry into the Institution and Doctrine of Holy Communion. 4th ed. London: John Murray, 1907. No. 302. Report of the Joint Committee of the Two Houses of the Convocation of York, Appointed to Prepare and Report to the Houses of Convocation the Suggested Answer to the Royal Letters of Business. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1915. No. 529. Joint Committee on the Royal Letters of Business, Regarding the Order of Holy Communion. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920. No. 533. Royal Letters of Business. Proposals for the Revision of the Book of Common Prayer as Approved by the Convocation of Canterbury. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920. Report of the Committee of the Representative Church Council on the Report of the Archbishops’ Committee on Church and State. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1918. Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline: Report of the Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline. London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1906. Simpson, W.J.  Sparrow. The Use of Vestments in the English Church. London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1909. The Archbishops’ Committee on Church & State: Report, with Appendices. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1916. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The First Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of July 4, 5, 6, and 7, 1911. London: National Society’s Depository, 1911. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The First Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of May 2, 3, 4, and 5, 1911. London: National Society’s Depository, 1911. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The First Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of November 8, 9, 10, and 11, 1910. London: National Society’s Depository, 1910. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Edvardo Septimo Regnante, in the Sessions of February 4, 5, 6, and May 5 and 6, 1908. London: National Society’s Depository, 1908.

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The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Edvardo Septimo Regnante, in the Sessions of February 14, 20, 21, 22, 23; May 1, 2, 3, 4; July 3, 4; and November 13, 14, 1906. London: National Society’s Depository, 1906. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Edvardo Septimo Regnante, in the Sessions of February 14, 15; April 30, May 1, 2; July 2, 3, 1907. London: National Society’s Depository, 1907. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of April 27, 28, 29 and 30, 1915. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1915. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 5, 6, 7 and 8, 1918. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1918. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 8 and 9, 1917. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1917. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 15, 16, 17 and 18, 1916. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1916. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 17, 18, 19 and 20, 1914. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1914. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Second Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of January 22 and February 11, 12, 13, 14, 1919. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1919. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Third Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of April 26, 27 and 28, 1920. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Third Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of February 10, 11, 12 and 13, 1920. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1920. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Third Georgio Quinto Regnante, in the Sessions of May 6, 7 and 8, 1919. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1919. “The New Archbishop: A Detailed Protest by Mr Kensit.” The Manchester Guardian, January 21, 1909.

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“The Report of the Commission: By Quartas.” The Manchester Guardian, July 5, 1906. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of April 23rd and 24th, 1913. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1913. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of April 28th & 29th, and July 21st & 22nd, 1915. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1915. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of April 28th and 29th, 1920. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1920. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 8th and 9th, 1917. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1917. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 10th and 11th, 1915. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1915. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 11th and 12th, 1920. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1920. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 12th and 13th, 1919. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1919. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 15th and 16th, 1912. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1912. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 17th and 18th, 1909. York: John Sampson, 1909. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 18th and 19th, 1914. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1914. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 22nd and 23rd, 1910. York: John Sampson, 1910. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 6th and 7th, 1914. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1914. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 7th and 8th, 1919, and July 7th and 8th, 1919. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1919. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 8th, 9th and 10th, 1912. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1912.

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The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 18th and 19th, 1911. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1911. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 20th and 21st, 1908. York: John Sampson, 1908. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of May 25th and 26th, and July 5th, 1910. York: John Sampson, 1910. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of November 22nd, 1906, and February 27th and 28th, 1907. York: John Sampson, 1907. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of November 24th, 1915, and February 16th and 17th, 1916. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1916. Wickham, Edward Charles. Revision of Rubrics: Its Purpose and Principles. Prayer-­ Book Revision Series, Three. London: James Nisbet & Co., 1910.

Secondary Sources Adam, Will. Legal Flexibility and the Mission of the Church: Dispensation and Economy in Ecclesiastical Law. Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2011. Bell, G.K.A. Randall Davidson: Archbishop of Canterbury. 3rd ed. London: Oxford University Press, 1952. Bentley, James. Ritualism and Politics in Victorian Britain: The Attempt to Legislate for Belief. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978. Brown, Andrew, and Linda Woodhead. That Was the Church, That Was: How the Church of England Lost the English People. London: Bloomsbury, 2016. Chadwick, Owen. The Victorian Church. 2nd ed. Part II.  London: Adam & Charles Black, 1972. Cruickshank, Dan. From the Sublime to the Ridiculous: Ritualism and Anglo-­ Catholicism in the Evidence of the Royal Commission into Ecclesiastical Discipline, 1904–6. London: Anglo-Catholic History Society, 2018a. ———. “‘Remember That in This Land There [Are] Two Kingdoms’: The Church of England’s Theology of Church and State in the First World War.” Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte/Contemporary Church History 31 (2018b): 131–145. ———. “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric: Ritualism and Royal Commissions in Late Nineteenth- and early Twentieth-­ Century England.” Studies in Church History 56 (2020) [in press]. Eppley, Daniel. “Royal Supremacy.” In A Companion to Richard Hooker, edited by Torrance Kirby, 503–534. Leiden: Brill, 2008. Jasper, R.C.D. The Development of the Anglican Liturgy, 1662–1980. London: SPCK, 1989. Kirby, James. Historians and the Church of England: Religion and Historical Scholarship, 1870–1920. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016.

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MacCulloch, Diarmaid. Thomas Cranmer: A Life. Rev. ed. New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2016. Madigan, Edward. Faith Under Fire: Anglican Army Chaplains and the Great War. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Maiden, John G. National Religion and the Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1928. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2009. Maiden, John. “The Prayer Book Controversy.” In The Oxford Handbook of the Oxford Movement, edited by Stewart J.  Brown, Peter Nockles, and James Pereiro, 530–541. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Marrin, Albert. The Last Crusade: The Church of England in the First World War. Durham: Duke University Press, 1974. Marshall, Peter. Heretics and Believers: A History of the English Reformation. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2017. Martell, J.D. “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28.” MA Thesis, Durham University, 1974. Mumm, Susan. “The Feminization of Nineteenth-Century Anglicanism.” In The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume III: Partisan Anglicanism and Its Global Expansion 1829–c.1914, edited by Rowan Strong, 440–455. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Peaston, A. Elliott. The Prayer Book Revisions of the Victorian Evangelicals. Dublin: A.P.C.K., 1963. Snape, Michael. God and the British Soldier: Religion and the British Army in the First and Second World Wars. Abingdon: Routledge, 2005. Strong, Rowan. “Anglicanism and the State in the Nineteenth Century.” In The Oxford History of Anglicanism, Volume III: Partisan Anglicanism and Its Global Expansion 1829–c.1914, edited by Rowan Strong, 92–115. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Thompson, David M. “War, The Nation, and the Kingdom of God: The Origins of the National Mission of Repentance and Hope, 1915–16.” Studies in Church History 20 (1983): 337–350. Wickins, Peter. Victorian Protestantism and Bloody Mary: The Legacy of Religious Persecution in Tudor England. Bury St. Edmunds: Arena Books, 2012. Wilkinson, Alan. The Church of England and the First World War. London: SPCK, 1978. Winter, J.M. “Spiritualism and the First World War.” In Religion and Irreligion in Victorian Society: Essays in Honor of R.K.  Webb, edited by R.W.  Davis and R.J. Helmstadter, 185–200. Abingdon: Routledge, 1992. Yates, Nigel. Anglican Ritualism in Victorian Britain, 1830–1910. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Zimmerman, John D. “A Chapter in English Church Reform: The Enabling Act of 1919.” Historical Magazine of the Protestant Episcopal Church 46 (1977): 215–225.

CHAPTER 3

Before the Assembly and Parliament, 1920–1928

Abstract  This chapter examines the final decade of the revision process. The first half of the chapter follows the revision process through the National/Church Assembly and the construction of the final revised Prayer Book. Throughout it argues for the pivotal role of Randall Davidson in guiding the process through its final decade. It also presents evidence that the final revised Prayer Book was the result of consultation with the laity and had the widespread support of the laity within the Church. The second half of the chapter examines the attempts to get the revised Prayer Book through Parliament and the immediate aftermath of the Parliamentary rejection. It concludes by looking at the radical ecclesiological thinking that emerged within the Church in response to the Parliamentary rejections. Keywords  Anti-Catholicism • Ecclesiology • Lay representation • Liturgical revision • Parliament • Randall Davidson When the two Convocations sent their proposals to the National Assembly, they probably did not believe it would be seven years before those proposals would come before Parliament. The hubris in this was that those who would ensure the process took so long were the bishops and clergy who had sent the proposals. This chapter will examine what the Assembly altered in the proposals of the Convocations, specifically the major changes © The Author(s) 2019 D. D. Cruickshank, The Theology and Ecclesiology of the Prayer Book Crisis, 1906–1928, Christianities in the Trans-Atlantic World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-27130-5_3

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to the Communion service and the rubrics surrounding reservation of the elements. It will consider how the proposals came to be presented as they were passed to Parliament, specifically the focus on the Revised Book as establishing a new Uniformity in the Church. Challenging the interpretation of this process found in the few studies of the period, it will demonstrate the pivotal role Davidson played in revision and the popularity of the Revised Book across the Church, especially amongst the laity. In the second half of the chapter it will focus on the reception of the Revised Book in Parliament, considering how the debates show the differentiation between pro-revision forces who believed in the book for ecclesiological reasons and anti-revision speakers who opposed it for doctrinal reasons. Finally it will consider the immediate response to the rejections in the Church, and how they caused people to consider radical ecclesiological change in the Church-State relationship.

The First Revised Book: N.A. 80, 1920–1927 The National Assembly first considered the proposals of the Convocations for the revision of the Prayer Book in the autumn of 1920. Edgar Gibson, the Bishop of Gloucester, proposing the acceptance of the revisions praised the fact they were to be appended to the Prayer Book in the first instance, instead of replacing it: “All these changes are purely permissive and are not to be compulsory substituted for the arrangement of the present Prayer Book. That is an enormous advantage, because it is really impossible to know beforehand how far suggested changes will commend themselves to those who have to use them, and there must be a time of experiment.”1 However, instead of providing the rubber-stamped approval that appeared to be the purpose of the National Assembly in the revision process, it followed in the proud tradition of Convocation by sending the proposals to a committee to consider.2 At the summer meeting of 1921 Davidson used his presidential address to decry the way in which the National Assembly was sending items so quickly to committees: “I personally am strongly against the appointment of Committees, except after the discussion of the subject in the Assembly. The mere appointing of a Committee in lieu of having the matter even preliminarily debated seems to me to be a bad way of doing effective business. The Committee ought to meet after they have learned something about the general sentiment upon the subject.”3 Davidson suggested in this speech that he had believed, or hoped, that the National Assembly might prove more efficient at dealing with tough

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­ uestions than the Convocations had been, but that its early years left him q sorely disappointed that this was not to be the case. The first report from the committee considering Prayer Book revision was ready for the summer 1921 group of sessions, but it considered only the most uncontroversial aspect of Prayer Book revision, changes to the lectionary.4 In spring 1922 the Committee presented to the Assembly a schedule of the proposals the Convocations had recommended, N.A. 60. Gibson, proposing the measure, said it was needed as “At present there was something like anarchy in the Church in regard to liturgical use—every man did what was right in his own eyes.”5 Once again, 16 years after the revision process had been initiated in exactly these terms, the revision proposals were presented as the only solution to a church that had departed so far from uniformity as to be almost unrecognisable from the Church of England. This was the first time that the laity of the Church of England had been asked to seriously engage with the revision process and William Cecil, Bishop of Exeter, took it upon himself to admonish the laity gathered in the assembly. Cecil warned that, in his view, “the House of Laity, which was a constituent part of the Assembly and therefore affected the other two parts, could not claim any supernatural warrant or power to deal with this subject”.6 In this view the clergy were a separate, holy caste, who were ordained by God to make all the doctrinal and liturgical decisions in the Church, and the laity were to be their loyal, obedient, silent servants. Cecil was clear that “His difficulty was that he felt that, whatever the result of their findings might be, it would always be said, ‘That new Prayer Book has no authority, because it was passed very much under the influence of laymen.’”7 In Parliament in 1927 it would be the very opposite argument that would fuel many in the Commons to claim a lack of lay approval of the book. The establishment of the National Assembly had shown that Cecil’s view of the role of the laity in the Church was that of the minority, and no one else at the meeting of Convocation stood up to support his view. Cecil’s comments would seem to substantiate John Maiden’s claim that the revised Prayer Book was primarily a construction of the bishops, forced upon a reluctant laity.8 In fact this intervention shows just how small was the minority that held the view, that the laity should have minimal involvement in the revision process. No one stood up to support Cecil, instead a member of the House of Laity, G.A. King, stood up to say that “There could, he thought, be no doubt that in the language of Holy Scripture, it was the Church entire and complete, not any class or rank or caste of

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­ ersons within it, which was spoke of as the spirit-bearing Body of Christ. p The presence of laity upon this Committee was no true ground for declining to receive its Report.”9 The majority clearly agreed with King that lay involvement in the revision process was a positive thing, rather than a reason to reject the report, as it was received by a show of hand with only three or four dissentions.10 The revision process is thus more complex than Maiden presents it; lay people were not only involved in the revision process, but their involvement was welcomed and seen as an integral part of the revision process by the vast majority of the Church, be they lay people, clergy, or bishops. In spring 1923 N.A. 60 was presented to the Assembly as N.A. 80 ‘Revised Prayer Book (Permissive Use) Measure, 1923’.11 Although it was officially presented by the House of Bishops, this was not because it was a concoction by the bishops, but because that was the procedure to be followed in order for a measure to be passed through the Assembly, with measures that were to be presented to become law needing to originate in the House of Bishops. N.A. 80, now as a substantial potential measure to be presented to Parliament, would first be presented to the three Houses, those of Bishops, Clergy, and Laity, for their general approval to the idea of the measure before they would individually consider the substance of the new Prayer Book.12 The House of Clergy gave such approval in January 1923, whilst those of Bishops and Laity gave theirs in April of the same year.13 So what was in N.A. 80? Most substantially N.A. 80 contained an actual Prayer Book. Instead of listing proposed changes in abstract, the proposals were constructed as a Prayer Book, with changes and alterations integrated into the Prayer Book of 1662.14 The plan was still to issue the Prayer Book as an alternative alongside that of 1662, but it was now clear that this alternative would be a whole and complete Prayer Book in itself. N.A. 80 was constructed as a measure which related to an appended Prayer Book. Parliament could only amend a measure, and not anything that was appended to a measure. As such Parliament could amend the measure of N.A. 80 which related to how the new Prayer Book would be implemented, but not amend the appended to the measure, the Prayer Book of N.A. 80. The Assembly, however, was not limited by this, and was free to amend, and was asked to amend, any aspect of N.A. 80. The contents of N.A. 80 reflected the proposals put forward by the Convocations. It contained an alternate Communion Service which began with a rubric stating that “the Priest in celebrating the Holy Communion shall wear either a surplice with sole or with scarf and hood, or a white alb

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plain with a vestment or cope”.15 This was followed by a rubric that created a more legalised structure on how to refuse people communion,16 and a command that the Priest “shall say the service following in a distinct and audible voice”.17 Apart from the rubric around exclusion at communion, these were all changes recommended by the Convocations. The structure of the service continued with implementing the recommendations of the Convocations: there was shortened form of the Ten Commandments offered, or the alternative of the Lord’s summary of the Law,18 and it permitted the addition of water to the wine as an “ancient tradition of the Church”.19 It also included the compromise Prayer of Oblation that had been constructed at the May 1919 Communion Conference,20 the potential to shorten the words of distribution,21 and removed the rubric recommending that the curate take the leftover unconsecrated bread home.22 Outside of the Communion Service the N.A. 80 provided for the reservation of the elements for one day solely for the use of communicating the sick,23 also allowing for this reservation to last beyond a day if the need should arise to do so and it was “in accordance with Canon, or such rules as may be from time to time made by the Archbishops and Bishops in their Convocations”.24 Nothing in the N.A. 80 Prayer Book was new, all of it was borne from the discussions and recommendations of the two Convocations. What was new was putting it into a usable Prayer Book. In response to N.A. 80 three groups produced their own proposals for Prayer Book revision: the Alcuin Club’s ‘Orange Book’, the  English Church Unions’ ‘Green Book’ and a liberal grouping, containing William Temple, who created a ‘Grey Book’. Much can be made of these books; Donald Gray spends more time discussing the contents of these books than N.A. 80,25 but these three books, which were mainly creations for the clergy, demonstrate little about theological currents within the Church that had not already been revealed by the revision process. They did not demonstrate what theological standpoints the Church could unite around, but rather what views certain parties within the Church held. Of the coloured books the Alcuin Club’s received very little attention; both it and the ECU’s book reflected the strong Anglo-Catholic desires of these groups. They both proposed greater reordering of the Communion, including new consecration prayers closer to that in the 1549 Prayer Book and the Sarum Rite, and permanent reservation with no limits on usage. Yates argued that the Anglo-Catholic groups created their books out of fear that revision would make “the [prayer] book more and not less Protestant”,26

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but the adoption of catholic elements into the revision process throughout the 1910s suggests this is not the case. Instead J.D. Martell’s argument that these books are best understood as symbols for the parties which created them, ones which represented their highest wishes, and gave them something to measure actual revision against, is more persuasive.27 The Grey Book was a more interesting proposition, proposing more modernisation of language than N.A. 80 had, a slightly tweaked Communion Order that reflected Anglo-Catholic’s desired ordering,28 and a reservation rubric that allowed unlimited reservation of the elements, but only for use for the communion of the sick.29 This book received more attention from the hierarchy of the Church. At the Bishops’ Meeting of February 1924 Linton Smith, Bishop of Hereford, asked his brother bishops if he could authorise the use of the Grey Book within his diocese.30 Davidson replied that he could not make a general approval of usage of the Grey Book within his diocese, but he could potentially do so on a case-by-case basis.31 Although N.A. 80 was primarily the fruit of the deliberation of the clergy in their Convocations, this did not stop the House of Clergy making major amendments to the new Prayer Book. In July 1923 they added a new rubric before morning and evening prayer to state that “Any paragraph in this Alternative Book may be substituted at the discretion of the Minister for the corresponding part of the Book of Common Prayer”.32 This proposal would have allowed each clergyman to create his own Prayer Book, a hybrid of the new and the old, to suit his own tastes. In the November of 1923 the House of Clergy also decided to drastically alter the Communion Office of N.A. 80. In its place they proposed two new canons, one based on the Green Book, and the other on the Grey Book, affirming that these books represented the desires of certain sections of the clergy. The Communion Offices from both of these books were taken from the beginning of the Eucharistic prayer after the Sanctus (“All glory…”) down to the Lord’s Prayer, replacing this section in the Communion Office of N.A. 80.33 Meanwhile, in the House of Laity, an attempt to remove the Communion Office entirely was negated by 136 to 94,34 an uncomfortably close result. Instead the House of Laity made some minor revisions, such as allowing the Greek language usage of Kyrie Eleison.35 In February 1924 the House of Clergy gave final approval to their proposals for the Communion Office, with the frame of N.A. 80 being used to allow the two Communion Canons within it.36 This was approved by 110 votes for to 13 against.37 With the House of Clergy

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c­onsisting of around 300 clergymen,38 clearly a significant majority of clergy members were unwilling to endorse this radical redesign. In July 1924 the House of Clergy passed a new rubric allowing permanent reservation, as governed by “Rules, Canons, and Directions” from the bishops in their Convocations, on the basis that this was a “long existing custom in the Catholic Church”.39 It was not until 20 February 1925 that the House of Clergy finished taking their hatchet to N.A. 80.40 By this point Davidson had grown tired of the Clergy’s revision to the proposal. To urge them on to their completion, Davidson sent the House of Clergy a letter at the beginning of their February group of sessions “expressing a hope that the Revision of the Measure would be completed with all reasonable expedition”.41 Davidson’s frustration was only increased by the fact that the Laity had agreed to postpone the completion of their own revision of the measure until the House of Clergy had completed theirs. Privately the Secretary of the National Assembly, P.B.  Wilbrahan, had warned Davidson that he was “afraid it is possible that the new House of Laity may undertake a complete reconsideration of the Prayer Book Measure, though I am sure that efforts will be made to prevent this”.42 These fears proved to be unfounded, and the House of Laity completed their minor revisions to N.A. 80 over three days in June and a final day in July.43 Despite delaying their own deliberations for the revisions of the House of Clergy, the House of Laity showed early on that they did not automatically agree with the Clergy’s proposals. On 17 June, Lord Phillimore proposed a motion that would have seen the House of Laity accepting the Clergy’s revision of the Communion Office. This was defeated by a large margin, 84 for, 155 against.44 The Laity were clearly not interested in the proposals of the coloured books. Instead the House of Laity passed a motion that stated that “whilst this House believes that the great majority of the Laity are satisfied with the present service of Holy Communion, the House will nevertheless agree to the insertion by the Bishops in the Prayer Book of one alternative form containing provision for Vestments and Reservation for the Sick only, if in their opinion this will promote peace and order in the Church”.45 This motion placed the impetus for revision of the Communion service with the bishops, the Laity excusing themselves due to happiness with the service of 1662, a fact that would provide a refrain for the opposition in Parliament later in the decade. However the Laity did not provide the bishops a blank cheque to rewrite the service to fit whatever needs the bishops desired to placate. Instead it affirmed that

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the proposals should only allow reservation for the communion of the sick and differing forms of vesture, in effect affirming the Communion Service of N.A. 80 as an acceptable alternative that did not deviate too far from the doctrine of the 1662 Prayer Book. The most important of the motions passed by the laity came out of left field. Lord Hugh Cecil proposed a motion calling for the idea of an appendix book to be scrapped. Instead, the motion called for the alternative book to be integrated into the existing Prayer Book of 1662, constructing a composite Prayer Book.46 This motion intended to make it possible for ministers to use sections of the new book or the old book without having to use the whole of one or the other, so one could use the Morning and Evening Prayer services from 1662 whilst also using the new Communion service.47 Arguably this had always been the intention of the revised Prayer Book, but by calling for it all to be in one Prayer Book, this would be more explicit. Obviously, earlier concerns about altering any detail of the 1662, even just by adding more material to it, had disappeared. The bishops took the changes made by the Houses and digested them, though how much of the Clergy and Laity’s proposals would become part of the final Revised Book would not become clear until 1927. At the end of May 1925, during a confidential Bishops’ Meeting, the bishops established a committee to prepare a new proposal for a Prayer Book Measure.48 In January 1926 representatives of the House of Bishops met with representatives of the Houses of Clergy and Laity to ascertain which of their proposed revisions to N.A. 80 were most important to them. The representatives of the House of Clergy believed that despite the vote for two alternative Communion services in their house, the Clergy really desired only one, but one that contained more ‘catholic’ elements than the one in N.A. 80.49 When asked whether the clergy would accept a composite book, the representatives were divided, mainly because they were unsure if it would need fresh convocational approval rather than because they objected to the idea of a composite book.50 The House of Laity representatives stressed the desire in the House for one book for ease of use for parishioners.51 From these discussions it was made plain to the bishops that the new proposal needed to be one composite book to please the Laity and that the Clergy would not be intrinsically opposed to this. How the bishops went about revising the book is less clear.52 It was not until 7 February 1927 that the book would become public, not to the Assembly, but to the Convocations.53

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Crafting ‘Prayer Book Measure 192–’, 1927 A letter from Bertram Pollock to Davidson suggests that it was not till the 18 January 1927 that the bishops gave final approval to the new revised Prayer Book.54 The book would then be presented to a joint sitting of Convocations in Church House on 7 February 1927. The bishops must have come to the same conclusion as the representatives of the House of Clergy had in 1925, that the revisions to N.A. 80 were so great by creating a composite book, that they required fresh convocational approval. With the book so quickly before the Convocations, the new proposals had a speed behind them which the process so far had lacked. Members of the Convocations were first introduced to the ideas behind the proposals by Davidson. He was keen to stress that members were not being presented with the final version of the revised Prayer Book, instead they were being given “the opportunity of considering the final draft of our proposals, with a view to any representations which you may desire to lay before us upon particular points before we formally present to you the revised Book”.55 Davidson brought up the many who would question “Why … need you meddle with the Prayer Book at all? It has been good enough for our fathers. It is good enough for us. Why can’t you let it alone?”56 Davidson was dismissive of this argument: “it is not, I hope, rude to say that the man who makes the airy comment must surely be strangely blind or deaf to what has been happening during the whole lifetime of even the oldest of us”.57 He then presented a brief overview of the various movements that had arisen in the Church of England since 1662 and an appeal to understand how the country itself had changed in this time.58 “England had ceased to be the England of the Restoration period” Davidson informed the Convocations, instead it “had become the centre of the great commonwealth of peoples which we call the British Empire”.59 Davidson went on to challenge those who did not see the importance of the new Prayer Book in creating a new uniformity: “The idea entertained in the earlier decades … that mere discipline was all that was needed to meet what we may call a Ritual restlessness, has passed happily into oblivion, for discipline is by itself no remedy till men are more or less agreed as to the rules or usages under debate.”60 This was a book created to form a new uniformity, reiterated by Davidson’s appeal to those gathered “to realize that in this volume we indicate not what we believe that any section of Churchmen will regard as their ideal of an alternative book. No, but we give you the only kind of alternative book for which, at the present juncture, we can

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anticipate general acceptance.”61 In this speech Davidson was once again clear that this was not a Prayer Book constructed to reflect some great new discovery of doctrine; he was explicit in his belief that if he “thought that what we are suggesting to-day would mean or involve any marked resetting of the distinctive position of the Church of England, I should not be standing here to advocate your acceptance”.62 What the Convocations were being asked to consider was a Prayer Book created in order to seek legal uniformity. It aimed to reflect what the majority of the Church of England would understand as acceptable doctrine and practice, in order to make clear what was not legal, and thus what doctrines were not compatible with the Church of England. In expressing his convictions about the purpose of the new Prayer Book, Davidson showed that ecclesiology was one of the guiding lights of reform. Conformity with the laws of England was, for Davidson, one of, if not the most important, characteristics of the Church of England. The construction of the new Prayer Book was an attempt to reinstate this legal conformity; producing a new uniformity through legalised diversity. After Davidson’s address copies of the new proposals were distributed to the members of the Convocations; they were talked through it by the Bishop of Chelmsford, Guy Warman, and prorogued till 22 February, when they would meet to discuss the proposals.63 The starkest change of the new book was the fact that it was one book meant to replace the Book of 1662, not complement it, and so described as “The Book of 1662 with Permissive Additions and Deviations Approved in 1927”.64 The book ­contained two Communion Services, the unaltered 1662 service and the ‘Alternative Order’. The ‘Alternative Order’ had seen some major changes from N.A. 80. It allowed the use of the Greek Kyrie,65 in the prayer of consecration some of the language of the ECU’s Green Book had been adopted, and between the Words of Institution and the Offertory Prayer an Epiclesis had been added.66 The allowance for reservation and the distribution of the reserved elements was now contained within its own ‘Alternative Order for the Communion of the Sick’, but an allowance for the use of the elements for any who could not attend church, instead of just the sick, as the House of Clergy had asked for, was not included.67 There was however now two rubrics governing reservation. One which allowed for reservation for usage on the same day, as found in N.A. 80, and a new one that allowed longer term reservation under the authorisation of the bishop.68 Otherwise the contents of the book were not radically different from N.A. 80, but the fact what was proposed was now one

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book, containing both 1662 and the new usages, rather than a complimentary book to be used alongside the 1662 Book, showed that the voice of the laity in the Church Assembly was being taken seriously. When the proposals were discussed by the Convocations, they were remarkably restrained in their amendments. In Canterbury the biggest change from the Lower House was a motion “to insert a note in the Revised Prayer Book stating that the New Communion Office and the new provisions for Communicating the Sick imply no change in Sacramental doctrine”.69 This proved to be a premonition of the arguments of anti-revision speakers in Parliament. The Lower House of York was happier to tinker with the proposals, but once again this was minor; altering the reservation rubric from permission from the bishop to permission from the Bishop if the rubrics allowed it,70 and asking the bishops to consider a liturgy for extreme unction and one for private confession.71 The new proposals did not include all the recommendations from the House of Clergy, but the clergy in the Lower Houses must have agreed with Davidson, that these proposals were those that could command the widest support within the Church. Another joint meeting of the Convocations was then held on 29 and 30 March to give final approval to the recommendations. The only interesting addition to the debate during these two days was given by Dr Kidd,72 who pointed out that by currently allowing reservation the bishops were breaking the law, but argued that this was a sign of the current law not reflecting what was good and right within the Church of England, and so this Prayer Book was needed to stop the bishops actions from being illegal.73 Finally all Houses were asked to give their approval to the proposals, and all duly did so with overwhelming majorities.74 In no House did less than 84% of clergymen give their support to the new Prayer Book. And so the new Prayer Book was triumphantly sent to the Church Assembly. The Assembly debated the measure on 5 and 6 of July 1927, and these two days would be full of strong debate and discussion. Known in the Assembly as C.A. 230, this was the Prayer Book Measure 1927 as it would be presented to Parliament at the end of the year. Unlike N.A. 80, with C.A. 230 the Assembly was not asked for their amendments but only for their approval of the measure and thus the revised Prayer Book. Once again proceedings were begun with an address by Davidson who professed a desire that he should not have “to speak yet again to the Assembly on the subject”, but explained that he had no choice because the standing orders of the Assembly meant such a measure must be moved by the Chair.75 It

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would be easy here to drift into the common narrative of Davidson as the reluctant captain of Prayer Book reform, uneager and to an extent unwilling to lead the charge. This view was espoused by Davidson’s chaplain and biographer, George Bell, who said that “The Archbishop could not bring himself to believe that the revision of the Prayer Book was in fact a vital matter to the Church.”76 Although Bell’s biography was shaped by his personal relationship with Davidson, they also demonstrate Bell’s inability both as biographer and chaplain to fully understand, or respect, Davidson’s politicking. Bell was a man of bold action and words, Davidson a man of careful and considered words and deeds. Throughout his biography, Bell often judges Davidson against what he believed he himself would have done as Archbishop, a role he was never to occupy, rather than respecting that an occupier of the throne of Canterbury often has to be quite, considerate, and above all aware of politics, to get anything done. The first biographer of Davidson’s successor at Canterbury, J.G. Lockhart writing on Lang, would echo Bells’ idea: “The Prayer Book baby can hardly be said to have had very satisfactory godparents, since one Archbishop [Davidson] did not really want it at all and the other Archbishop [Lang] would have preferred something else.”77 The apathetic opening of Davidson’s speech at the (as they assumed it would be) final debate on the matter in the Church Assembly seems to fit into this narrative. However, as this study will have shown, Davidson had been intimately involved in the process of revision that had been going on for over 20 years; all bar one year of his reign as Archbishop. These comments were those of a man reaching his 80th birthday, who had spent well over two decades fighting for Prayer Book reform and could now see the end in sight. He had already made numerous addresses to both the Assembly and to the Convocations on the matter. What he had to say on the matter, he had said multiple times. He deeply believed that Prayer Book revision was necessary, to bring order and stability to the Church of England and to allow it to fulfil its mission to the nation of England and the world. In his address, Davidson pointed out that the greatest change in the proposed measure from N.A. 80 was the fact that C.A. 230 offered one composite book.78 Otherwise, he focused on discipline and the new Prayer Book. The Archbishop stressed that although this new Prayer Book was constructed to ensure uniformity, its lack of sanctions for straying from the rubrics and liturgy of the Prayer Book did not represent a shortfall on its part: “Exercise of ecclesiastical discipline upon those who transgress the Church’s law is a matter distinct from the authorisation of services in

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Church, and lies outside the Prayer Book rubrics either old or new.”79 The new Prayer Book was to be the law; the law was not the court. The penalties for breaking the law had always been decided by the courts and laws passed by Parliament, not by the Prayer Book; Davidson had no time for this critique of the new Prayer Book. Once again Davidson commended the proposed book as one that could unite the majority of the Church, it being his “firm belief that it is capable of welding together in glad loyalty a multitude of men of all schools, who are anxious to go bravely forward”.80 Of particular note is a reference to votes at Diocesan Conferences on the Prayer Book proposal. In total 10,923 people voted, of whom 8817 (81%) voted for the proposals and 2106 (19%) against.81 These were, Davidson thought, “remarkable figures, and a knowledge of the efforts made—and legitimately made—to secure opposing votes make them still more remarkable. So far as Church opinion is ascertainable we seem to have gauged it.”82 Although it would be unwise to say based on these figures that 80% of the Church of England supported the Prayer Book, it seems prudent to agree with Davidson’s conclusion that based on this wide pool of Church of England members, the new Prayer Book had proved overwhelmingly popular within the Church. The debate in the Assembly got off to a fiery start with a speech from Joynson-Hicks, the Home Secretary. He began by conceding that “He was not a theologian. He was merely a lay member of the Church of England, striving to do his duty as a Churchman”, whilst admitting that under the Enabling Bill his position as a lay member of the Assembly gave him great power in deciding the future of the Church.83 Joynson-Hicks was more than slightly disingenuous in this evaluation of his role as a lay person in the Church of England. Although in general lay people were given a more important status in the decision making of the Church by the Enabling Bill, Joynson-Hicks was also an MP, and thus a lay person present in the existing ‘lay synod’ of the Church before the Enabling Bill, Parliament, with major powers over the Church. Later in 1927, Joynson-­ Hicks would become the leader of those opposed to the book in Parliament, but before the Assembly he painted himself as only having lay power over the Church in the Assembly, and only a reluctant player in this lay empowered ecclesiology. As would prove to be the case later in the year in the Commons, Joynson-Hicks’ main problem was with the allowance of reservation in the new book. Clearly echoing the main theme of Davidson, he framed his problems around uniformity, and the enforcement of the law. He believed that if you allowed reservation, even under the strict

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directions that they were always only to be used for communion of the sick and not allowed to become objects of devotion, the elements would always be the subjects of adoration.84 This was an attack carefully aimed at those whom Joynson-Hicks’ knew were weak: “Did his friend the Bishop of London [Winnington-Ingram] think that supposing the Prayer Book was passed, and Reservation were made legal in the diocese of London, those churches where a form of adoration was now permitted would accept the limited permission?”85 The inability, or unwillingness, of Winnington-­ Ingram to deal with reservation of the elements and adoration of those reserved is well documented in the previous chapter, and was common knowledge. Having taken aim, Joynson-Hicks drove the point home in his conclusion: “The main question of difference between himself and the Chairman [Davidson] was as to the method of enforcement of the law. How could a bishop enforce the law when he had been himself guilty of allowing infractions of the law to take place?”86 If, Joynson-Hicks posited, Davidson was correct that this Prayer Book was needed to make legal practices that were prevalent in the Church and thus create a new uniformity, how could the bishops who had allowed such widespread illegality in the first place be trusted to ensure that there was no more illegal practices going on in the Church after the new Prayer Book had passed? Speeches in favour of the book tended to focus, like Davidson had, on uniformity and on the ability of the Church of England to be comprehensive. William Palmer, Earl of Selborne, “said that for his own sake he desired no change whatever in the Book of Common Prayer. But that was no reason why he should deny to his brother such changes as might help him in his worship. They had learned in the long history of the Church of England that one of her glories was her comprehensiveness.”87 Selborne’s unwillingness to say he desired any of the changes for his own devotional practice was not untypical, and so Selborne recommended the changes for conformity and a return to the rule of law. However, Selborne was able to take this abstract argument and form a concrete argument for it from the experiences of the laity. “At the present moment”, argued Selborne, “the laity of the Church of England had no effective rights whatever in the matter of the services in their church. A clergyman might go into a church and entirely change all the services.”88 In effect, Selborne argued, “At the present moment the parish priest was in that respect an autocrat.”89 Contrasting this with the proposed measure, he showed how the measure required the minister to get the approval of his PCC, or vice versa, before services from the new book were implemented in the church. Thus instead of ­transferring

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the autocracy from the priest to the PCC, it created a healthy balance of power, in Selborne’s view, between laity and clergy, empowering the laity whilst recognising both groups as vital parts of a healthy body of Christ.90 If the PCC and minister could not agree, the matter would go to the bishop, and as Selborne asked “If they were not going to use the bishops to decide a question like that, what was the value of the bishops at all?”91 This was Selborne’s, and the measures, answer to the ecclesial chaos of the last century. The laity had been subject to the whims of the clergy and, as the Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline had shown, unable to get any redress when the clergy strayed into illegality that their parishioners did not approve of.92 This measure would make clergy and laity equal partners in deciding the worship of their parish, with the bishop as final arbiter. This would create greater parity of power between clergy and laity, something envisioned by the Enabling Bill, with its implementation of PCCs, now becoming present in the acts of worship of the church. Speeches against the measure relied primarily on anti-Catholic rhetoric. Athelstan Riley, a member of the House of Laity from Winchester, claimed that with this proposal “The Church of England was now beyond dispute on the Catholic and not on the Protestant side.”93 Canon W.J. Sparrow Simpson, who earlier in the century has published pamphlets with Ritualist sympathies,94 now hoped the Laity would reject the measure, and warned that “If the laity did not reject the Book, there would be a serious prospect before them. They who were assembled in that house were not the Church of England. The Church of England was a national church. They would have to deal with a Protestant people and a Protestant Parliament, and he did not believe that the measure would ever be accepted by the House of Commons.”95 Sparrow Simpson’s warning was rooted in a national Protestant ecclesiology, in which members of non-Conformist Protestant Churches had just as much a right and a role to play in the Church as its communicant members, what John Maiden called ideas of “national religion”.96 Maiden identified in the Parliamentary debates that many “anti-­ revision speakers emphasised that revision was not a domestic Anglican issue and that rather the [Prayer Book] controversy was part of the ongoing struggle between British Protestantism and Roman Catholicism”.97 This was equally true of anti-revision speakers within the Assembly. Riley claimed the Church of England had placed itself on the side of Rome in this struggle, Sparrow Simpson that the Church was going to face its proposals being stopped by a Protestant Parliament in its struggle against Roman Catholicism. In his speech concluding for those opposed to the

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book, Sir Thomas Inskip asked “Is the Church of England going to purchase peace or discipline at the expense of abandoning her traditional position?”98 There was struggle going on, in these speakers’ minds, and Inskip warned that in trying to solve internal problems, the Church was risking abandoning her position in the war against the Church of Rome. The majority of members of the Assembly however did not believe that they were there to take part in a national struggle against the Church of Rome, but in order to help create solutions to the issues and desires of the Church of England. Their speeches focused on the need of the worship of the Church to adapt to the current situation of the Church. No speaker stood up to give a defence of the theology on the book, of its new Communion Office or of idea of reservation. Instead they defended it as bringing conformity and uniformity to the Church. Cosmo Lang concluding for those who supported the measure tackled Evangelical ideas of national religion head on: When the 1662 Book was before the Church, and still more the earlier Prayer Books which proceeded it, the earnest Protestant Evangelicals were most suspicious (indeed there were many features of it which they not only disliked but denounced), and those who succeeded them, the Puritan Evangelicals, were equally suspicious of the Prayer Book. Whereas now there is this amount of change of emphasis, it is the very representatives of Protestant Evangelicalism who are the most loud in protesting that the Prayer Book stands for everything they most value and in which they most deeply believe.99

Although one could question the continuity between those who pushed for a more reformed Prayer Book in the sixteenth century, the Puritans, and early twentieth-century Evangelicals, Lang cleverly used the history of these groups to show the strangeness of Evangelicals now claiming to be the true believers of the Prayer Book. Lang was not interested in discussions of national religion, but in creating a Prayer Book that would allow the Church to move forward. Concluding his speech, Lang appealed that “this vote be an act of great trust in God’s guidance of His Church. Let it be so clear and decisive that it will liberate the Church to address itself with fresh faith and hope and courage to its great task of winning the people of this land to our Lord and to His Kingdom.”100 Lang got his wish, with each House passing the measure by large majorities.101 In total 517 voted for the measure, with 133 against.102 With the approval of almost 80% of the Assembly, the measure could now move to Parliament.

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Until the presentation to Parliament the measure, when voted upon in bodies throughout the Church, had secured around 80% approval. Maiden dismissed this evidence of approval within the Church, claiming that “The Anglican establishment relied on the votes of convocations, the Church Assembly and the Diocesan Conferences, all of which were in favour of revision, as an indicator of rank-and-file Church feeling; however, while these voting results are significant, the bodies in question tended to reflect only the views of ‘higher’ and officially minded clergy and laity, and not necessarily the national clerical and lay opinion.”103 It is easy to concede that the working class were not fully represented at the assembly, but ultimately the official votes in the Church are the only gauges of opinion within the Church of England we have. Instead of these votes demonstrating the general approval throughout the Church of the revised Prayer Book, Maiden argues that there was a “silent majority of Anglican churchgoers [whose opinion] on liturgical revision are impossible to poll”.104 Maiden looked to a petition presented by the Protestant Alliance which gained 300,000 signatures opposed to Revision, to demonstrate “The outright unpopularity of revision among large sections of the laity”.105 With this piece of evidence, Maiden concludes “that the attitude of many [within the Church] ranged between apathetic ambivalence and unwavering hostility”.106 However, the Protestant Alliance was not a strictly Anglican group, seeking members from evangelicals across Protestant denominations, and Martel has demonstrated that such Protestant anti-­ revision groups relied heavily on the support of non-Conformists.107 Maiden’s source for this petition is Adrian Hasting’s English Christianity who does not provide a source for the petition, merely saying that it was organised by Edmund Knox, retired Bishop of Manchester, not by the Protestant Alliance, and that it was signed “by over 300,000 adult communicants”.108 With Hasting’s also not providing a source for this petition, and the fact that it does not appear in Davidson’s papers, it is impossible to analyse who singed this petition and how many were Church of England members. Without this information the petition can, at best, only be regarded as representative of opposition in the entire population of the UK, rather than just members of the Church of England. Without a clear source for the petition in any of the primary literature, one could even be justified in entirely ignoring this petition and the claimed large number of signatures attached to it. What we do have records for are the votes at the Assembly, Convocations, and Diocesan Conferences, all of which showed overwhelming support for the measure. Unless we ignore

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this plethora of votes, instead relying on conjecture and the speeches of non-Conformist members of Parliament who would profess the unpopularity of the measure, we must conclude that within the Church of England, the Revised Book was overwhelmingly approved of. The Church had created a book to suit its needs, and the majority within the Church accepted and supported this.

The Prayer Book in Parliament, 1927 With the Assembly’s approval given, attention now turned to how to get the book through Parliament. By July 1927 Lord Hugh Cecil, MP for Oxford University, was giving Davidson advice on how best to get the new book through Parliament. He recommended that “an Evangelical Bishop—perhaps the Bishop of Chelmsford—should write a short defence of the Prayer Book Measure and Book and send it towards the end of September to every Member of Parliament”.109 The thinking behind this was clearly to assure Parliament that the proposals had the support of the Evangelical wing of the Church. Clearly, Cecil was aware that the overwhelming majorities given to the proposals by Church groups would not demonstrate to Parliament that Evangelical opinion was behind the proposals, who were more likely to listen to anti-revision Evangelical voices outside of the Church of England. Whoever was to write this pamphlet, Cecil wanted them to “remember that M.P.s are almost incredibly ignorant of all theological matters”.110 It was this view, that Parliament lacked knowledge of theology, which had led to the Church trying to find ways during the revision process to minimise the debates Parliament could have on the Prayer Book. Now, even after the Enabling Bill, the day of reckoning was fast approaching, and somehow Parliament had to be asked to consider the deep theological question of the liturgy of the Church of England. Davidson was cautious about the idea of bishops being seen as trying to ‘promote’ the book. Forwarding Cecil’s letter to Lang he confided that he was “eager that pressure should be brought to bear on Members of Parliament but not that the Bishops should be the people exercising the pressure”.111 Spiritual independence of the Church clearly also meant, for Davidson, the reluctance of the Lords Spiritual to influence temporal powers. Lang, however, perhaps unsurprisingly for a man who would help bring down a King,112 did not have the same reluctance. Replying to Davidson he warned that although he agreed with Davidson “that it is

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difficult for the Bishops themselves to be active propagandists … the matter is too serious to expect us to stand too much upon dignity”.113 Lang was much more willing to use episcopal power to persuade parliament to consent to the changes desired by the Church. His personal view was that “The issues involved are so grave that much as the Bishops may dislike anything in the nature of propaganda, I do not think that those of them who are in favour of the Measure can simply hold their hands and leave the field to the adversary.”114 This then was not unconditional support for episcopal intervention, but one that relied on the matter being “grave” enough. For Lang, episcopal intervention was sometimes necessary to ensure the passage of Church legislation. The general shift in opinion within the Church of its own ecclesiology that had taken place during the opening decades of the twentieth century was now facing the issue of a getting legislation, independently made, through Parliament, and Lang more than Davidson was aware of—or prepared to accept—the compromise which had to be made to ensure such legislation got through Parliament. Davidson, however reluctantly, did come round to Lang’s way of thinking, after speaking to Geoffrey Dawson, editor of The Times, who urged both Archbishops to speak to gatherings of MPs to attempt to sell them the new book.115 Martell wrote that “Both Dawson and his newspaper were sympathetic towards Prayer Book revision—to the point that The Times was later in the year [1927] accused of suppression of letters unfavourable to the Book.”116 The advice Dawson gave Davidson in August 1927 shows that he was aware the weight of his newspaper would not be as persuasive to MPs as the arguments for the Revised Book given by ­bishops would be. The bishops would have to lead the fight, however reluctantly. Autumn came, Parliament reconvened, and the fray began. Davidson would confess to Lang in October that “We have both of us often had over-busy times, but for me never anything like the present weeks. I am literally bombarded every half-hour through the day by urgent communications on one of the great subjects now astir—Prayer Book, the Bishop of Birmingham, the Malines Conversations.”117 The first of these, the Prayer Book Measure, is self-explanatory, the second and third have not yet been mentioned. The second was a furore caused by the Bishop of Birmingham, Earnest Barnes, a figure never known to shy away from controversy, who Bell described as a “militant liberal Churchman”,118 who had spent the Autumn of 1926 preaching against the doctrine of the fall and the idea of Real Presence due to modern scientific findings and theories.119 Added to

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this was the third topic to which Davidson alludes, the Malines Conversations. Adrian Hastings rather colourfully paints the picture of the Malines Conversations within the frame of the Prayer Book crisis: “Whilst two Protestant-minded octogenarians—Archbishop Davidson and Bishop Knox—had been battling over the Prayer Book in England and over the defence of England’s Protestant heritage, two Catholic-minded old men had been getting together in Belgium to seek a way to do no less than reunite the Church of England with the Roman Catholic Communion.”120 The conservations were the child of Lord Halifax, president of the ECU, and Fernard Portal, a French Roman Catholic priest. It was their attempt in the 1890s to have the validity of Anglican orders recognised by Rome that had led to Leo XII issuing Apostolicae Curae in 1896 which denounced Anglican orders and called them illegitimate.121 Unperturbed by this great failure of their partnership, Halifax and Portal decided in the 1920s to hold five conversations, hosted by Cardinal Désiré-Joseph Mercier, Archbishop of Mechelen, or Malines in French, and thus Primate of Belgium. According to Hastings, Davidson had given the conversations tacit approval, on the condition that the Pope also gave his approval to them.122 To what extent these conversations were officially sanctioned, and what the goal of them was, is a matter up for debate,123 but what matters is that those taking part believed they had a level of official talks between the two Churches. The Anglicans who took part were all, unsurprisingly, Anglo-Catholics,124 and so the talks, whilst recognising the doctrinal differences of the two Churches, centred instead on how the Church of England could recognise the primacy of Rome whilst retaining a distinct ‘English’ Church under the Archbishop of Canterbury.125 Unsurprisingly, when the talks became public knowledge, after they had collapsed with the death of Cardinal Mercier in January 1926, they were not well received. Davidson had written to the Bishop of Truro, Walter Frere, who had taken part in the conversations, in April 1927 with his fear that if an account of the Conversations was published in the current climate around the Prayer Book the “paper will be eagerly used by men of the honest Inskip school to strengthen their hands”.126 Although the reports by the English delegates of the meetings would not be published until January 1928, by this point the discussions were public knowledge, and knowing that the delegates, such as Halifax and Frere, were leading Anglo-Catholics, the increased fear of the Church of England submitting to Rome did not help those on the side of revision to argue that the new Prayer Book was not on the Rome-ward side of the Protestant-Catholic

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divide. With information about these talks becoming public knowledge in 1926, it created a perfect storm of Protestant resentment, fuelled both by the liberalism of Barnes and the Anglo-Papalism of the Malines Conversations. The Prayer Book was released at a time when many saw concrete evidence that the Church of England was happily abandoning traditional Protestantism. The atmosphere was therefore aggressively against the Prayer Book by the time it entered Parliament in December 1927. The big fear was that the Lords, instinctively the more conservative of the two Houses of Parliament, would reject the measure; thus there was some level of debate over which House the measure should first be presented in.127 Davidson was of the opinion that it would be best to tackle the more problematic House head on, therefore to present the measure in the Lords.128 Others, such as Gascoyne-Cecil, Fourth Marquess of Salisbury, agreed that the Lords would present the greater problem, and thus believed the measure should be presented to the Commons first “because the assent of the House of Commons would be an added reason in the Lords to accept the measure”.129 The Prime Minister either agreed with Davidson, or conceded to his view, and so the measure was first presented to the House of Lords on 12 December 1927. What was presented to the House was the measure authorising the book. The Measure referred to the ‘deposited Book’; instead of having the revised Prayer Book appended to the Measure as originally planned, the bishops had decided in February 1927 to deposit the Prayer Book with the clerk of Parliament,130 completely removing it, at least physically, from the actual measure laid before Parliament to be voted on. Also accompanying the Measure was a pink slip of paper which outlined the regulations for reservation proposed by the bishops; these details were not contained in either the Revised Book or the measure, the book deferring the regulations to those decided by the bishops, allowing them to change with the times. The rubrics in the communion of the sick in the revised Prayer Book allowed for two types of reservation, the first, the default position, provided for the elements to be reserved between a Communion service in the church and distribution to the sick on the same day, and the second was for more permanent reservation, with the rules to be decided by the diocesan bishop, when the first rubric would not suffice.131 The regulations on the pink slip were concerned primarily with the second of these rubrics, particularly with how the elements would be stored. According to the pink slip, they were to be placed in either an Aumbry or safe “set in the North Wall of the Sanctuary or of the Chapel”,

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and the elements to be renewed once a week.132 How exactly the bishops believed that having the elements reserved in the main body of the church would stop private devotions to the elements taking place, or placate fears amongst evangelicals outside and within Parliament that devotions to the reserved elements would take place under the new book, is unclear. The revised Prayer Book had a much easier time in the House of Lords than anyone had expected. Debate took place over three days, from 12 until 14 of December, and from the speeches it seemed that the forces of revision and anti-revision were evenly matched. Davidson, presenting the measure, defended the Enabling Bill, and reminded the House that at the time of its passing he had been adamant that in passing the Bill “Parliament was not depriving itself in the end of any fundamental right. I adhere to that today.”133 When it came to voting on measures put forward by the Assembly, Davidson told the peers that “Every member of this House has, in my view, his absolute right to vote freely upon a matter of this kind and it would be impertinence on my part to suggest anything else.”134 He warned however that peers should think carefully before voting against the measure whether those campaigning against it were really members of the Church of England, and “what would be the consequences in the country of the rejection of a united wish officially given by a united Church”.135 As discussed above, Davidson was not misrepresenting the “united wish” of the Church, since the official votes within the Church showed a clear trend of around 80% of Church members supporting the measure. To emphasise quite how long the Church had taken in deliberating how to revise its liturgy, Davidson pointed out that only three of the Royal Commissioners from 1904–1906 still lived, one of whom was himself.136 Davidson went on to defend reservation as necessary for the current pressures on a parish priest,137 and the book as a product of all elements of the Church, expressed by their representatives in the Assembly.138 He concluded by appealing to the Lords to support the measure as it would “mean the liberation of the Church from the great mass of those petty strifes which have troubled us up and down the country in the past, and would conduce to the Church’s firm progress towards doing better the work to which we long to give ourselves wholeheartedly”.139 This was not a speech of half-hearted support from an embarrassed patron, but a confident speech, defending the theology of the most controversial aspect of the Prayer Book, and pushing for the measure as allowing the Church to fulfil its mission. Davidson did not shy away from Parliament’s role in the governance of the Church, but asserted that right, whilst urging the Lords

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to make a mature decision based on a full understanding of what those in the Church wished and what would be the result of denying them this wish. The measure could scarcely have found a better proposer. The rest of the three days debate was a back and forth between pro- and anti-revision speakers. Pro-revision speakers echoed Davidson: the Earl of Beuchamp supported the book as a solution to the internal strife the Church had faced over the last century,140 Lord Sandhurst reminded peers of how greatly the book had been supported in the House of Laity, by a “majority of 5 to 2”.141 Anti-revision speakers spoke of the theology of the book. For Lord Hanworth the issue was the provision of “an alternative to one of the most sacred portions of the Prayer Book”, the Communion Service.142 He warned that the Communion service of 1662 was the centre of Anglican theology, so that by “altering the centre in one direction you may be leaving out something else in the other”.143 Lord Halifax also decried the alternative Communion service, though presumably, as a militant Anglo-Catholic with Anglo-Papist tendencies, not because he worried the service moved to far towards Roman Catholic theology.144 Lord Carson, Ulster Unionist politician and father of Northern Ireland, decried the new book. “How I love my Prayer Book” Carson quoted “one old woman”, fictitious or real, as having said, “and how my mother loved it and how she died believing in it. And now we are being told it is all wrong.”145 The bishops in the House were not content to let Carson’s claim, that the theology of the 1662 Book was being deemed false by the new book, go unchallenged and interrupted the speech to tell him so.146 Lord Teynham aired his annoyance that pro-Revision speakers were defending the book as necessary for allowing the Church to continue its work and flourish in the modern world, rather than offering passionate arguments for the theology it implied.147 From surveying pro- and anti-revision speeches in the Lord it appears as if two separate debates were taking place in the House. Those for revision were arguing on the basis of the desires of the Church, and the need for the book to settle theological strife within the Church. For them, the Revised Book was a remedy to keep together the comprehensive ecclesiology of the Church of England. Anti-revision speakers, in contrast, wanted to debate its theology, and particularly whether the theology of the new book was contrary to the Book of 1662. The tenor of the debate suggested that this latter camp would have a powerful sway over the Lords, but this did not prove to be the case. When it came to the vote, 241 Lords voted to say they were content with the measure, 88 against.148 Such a

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large majority in favour of the measure was not expected by anyone. The Lords overwhelmingly sided with the bishops; for them the measure was a sensible desire by the Church in an attempt to heal the rifts of the past century and help the Church move forward. The ecclesiological appeals for the book had trumped any fears about the theology of the book the House of Lords might have had. Writing the following day to pass on the King’s personal congratulations on the passage through the Lords, Lord Stamfordham, George V’s personal secretary, informed Davidson that he was writing as “the Debate is going on in the House of Commons, but the King assumes that therealso the measure will be passed by a good majority”.149 The monarch’s confidence in the passage of the measure through the Commons was soon to be found to have been misplaced. The debate in the House of Commons took place the day after the measure got the Lords’ approval on the 15 December. Before the debate took place, months of lobbying had taken place, though as Maiden has explained, this had been hindered by Davidson’s belief that no official lobbying should take place till shortly before Parliament reconvened,150 and the fact that Anglo-Catholics who were anti-Erastian refused to engage with the parliamentary process taking place.151 The main opposition in the Commons was led by the Home Secretary, Joynson-Hicks, who was also a lay member of the Church Assembly and had spoken against the book there. Joynson-Hicks, who in the Assembly had given an impassioned speech about how the only voice the laity had was in the Assembly, suddenly seemed to have become aware of the large voice he had a lay member of the Church of England in the House of Commons. The first mistake in the debate was allowing the measure to be proposed by one of Joynson-­ Hicks predecessors as Home Secretary, William Clive Bridgeman. Bridgeman’s proposal speech was tedious, the one standout moment being when Bridgeman took aim at Joynson-Hicks: “There is no other branch of life in which modifications have not been made to meet the enormous changes and improvements that have taken place. Why cannot we do it in the Church of England? Would the Home Secretary feel happier if he was obliged to hang a man for sheep stealing?”152 Sadly Joynson-­ Hicks did not rise to this challenge, so whether he would have liked to enforce 250-year-old secular laws and hang sheep stealers will remain unknown. Instead the debate the anti-revision forces had been having in the Lords continued, with Joynson-Hicks arguing the new Communion Service reflected “the doctrines of the Church of Rome”.153 Donald Gray wrote that Joynson-Hicks “did the very thing that Davidson had always

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feared: he began a doctrinal dispute on the floor of the House”.154 This was the very thing the Enabling Bill had been intended to prevent. This did not stop Joynson-Hicks though, who used the pink slip of proposed regulations for reservation against the bishops, arguing that if the reserved elements were “only for the comfort of the sick [and not for devotional reasons], why should it not be reverently put in a cupboard, where nobody can worship it?”155 Joynson-Hicks also attempted to tackle the ecclesiological argument of tolerance and comprehension pushed by the Revision side, claiming that the bishops “could not attempt to deal with these illegalities in our Church, they ask, in order to bring these illegal men into line with the law, that the law should be altered”.156 It was hard to argue against this very logical argument, and pro-revision speakers did not attempt to reason why what the bishops once decried as illegal should now be made legal. The debate in many ways mirrored the debate in the Lords. Pro-revision speakers spoke of comprehension and tolerance, allowing the Church of England to fulfil its mission. Gwendolen Guinness said that “every revision of the Prayer Book, the revision of 1558, and the revision of 1662, as the revision of 1927, is the result of a compromise”.157 The Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, spoke of the Church of England as “a Church essentially of comprehension and a Church of compromise”, though he may also have harmed the cause by suggesting that “The Church of England may sound and may look illogical. We are not a logical nation.”158 Viscount Wilmore strayed into the doctrine of the book on similar lines as Davidson had in the Lords, defending reservation as necessary for the care of “vast urban parishes”.159 Hugh Cecil gave a rather lacklustre speech for the measure, unsurprising given his uneasiness about the Revised Book, pointing out that those content with the 1662 Book would be able to carry on using it unchanged.160 He also did “not believe that the ordinary man in the pew would find out any difference whatever in the new alternative form, as it is called, for … Holy Communion”.161 Maiden says that in contrast to the pro-Revision speeches, “the key speeches against the bishops’ proposals were exemplary in their judicious oratory, rhetorical persuasiveness and passionate delivery”.162 The speeches were certainly passionate, but even by the standards of the early twentieth century they were sectarian, and it depends how persuasive one finds cries of ‘no-­ popery’ over whether one considers them exemplary models of rhetoric. Edward Rosslyn Mitchell, MP for Paisley, a town in the heartlands of West Coast Scottish sectarianism, and a Church of Scotland member him-

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self, spoke of how “No body of men and women are so closely knit to the general feeling and instinct of the people of this country as the Members of the House of Commons.”163 For Mitchell, the general feeling in the country was one of deep-seated hatred for Roman Catholicism: “The Church of England is, and always has been, a Protestant Reformed Church”, and because of this there was an “irrepressible conflict” between the Church of England and that of Rome.164 The question for the Church now, and the choice this book presented was, which side of the conflict the Church of England wanted to be on? Sir Douglas Hogg claimed there were two doctrines which differentiated Protestantism from Roman Catholicism, “the authority of the priesthood, including therein the Supreme Pontiff, and, secondly, the differing views as to what is known as the doctrine of Transubstantiation”.165 Reservation, for Hogg, meant affirming the theology of transubstantiation. Sir Thomas Inskip agreed, asking the House if they would allow the Church of England to “profess the doctrines which we believe to be implicit in the practice of Perpetual Reservation”.166 Anti-revision speakers were preaching, what Maiden calls, National Religion, the idea of England as a Protestant nation standing against the Church of Rome and its doctrines. Maiden also claims they were picking up on “the lack of lay support” for the revision,167 something this chapter has already disproved. Currie is probably correct that anti-revision MPs believed there were picking up on a lack of lay support, but they could only do this by believing that the votes of approval in the Assembly were “merely spurious ratification”.168 But anti-revision MPs were primarily fuelled by personal feelings that the book was on the Rome side of a 400-year conflict between Protestantism and Roman Catholicism. James Kirby writing about the growth of historical scholarship within the Church of England in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century noted that “Anglican historical scholarship in this period was not characterised by Protestant triumphalism, but rather by a belief in the English Church as ancient, continuous, and national. This view, espoused particularly by the High Church, rested on the assumption of a continuing between the pre- and post-Reformation church.”169 But, as Kirby goes on to identify, the Prayer Book crisis “showed that questions about church continuity, the nation, and the constitution had not yet lost their controversial potency”.170 Anti-revision speakers in Parliament were arguing that the lineage of the Church of England should go back to the Reformation and no further. In this sense A.J.P. Taylor in his rather infamous remarks on the conflict was correct: “The outcry was the echo of

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dead themes. No one seriously regarded the Church of Rome, let alone the Anglo-Catholics, as ‘papistical’. Moreover, England had ceased to be, in any real sense, a Christian nation. Only a minority of Englishmen attended any Church, Roman, Anglican or Free. The politicians were living in the past.”171 This study has shown that Taylor’s was an over simplistic narrative, but he nonetheless captures the public mood better than the anti-revision speakers in the Commons did. As the Labour MP J. Jones said in the final speech of the debate, “I want to say this, on behalf of the great mass of the workers of this country, that they are more interested in the rent books than they are in the Prayer Book.”172 This wasn’t a cry against the book, but one against the idea of the book being debated in Parliament. The only people who seemed to desire the book being debated in Parliament were the strong non-denominational Evangelical minority groupings, who made their voice in Parliament loud, but increasingly irrelevant in wider society.173

Rejection of the Revision, 1927–1928 The final vote at the end was close, with 205 voting for the measure, and 230 voting against.174 Although this was a shock defeat for the Church, it was not a landslide rejection, with the rejection having a majority of 25 votes, and receiving a majority amongst English MPs, with 199 votes for the measure and 175 against.175 But a defeat, narrow or not, was a shock for many. The Archbishops had already drafted a statement for the press praising the passage of the book and explaining what the next steps would be, with a brief paragraph prepared in case the book was rejected.176 When the news broke, anger quickly grew across the Church. Hugh Cecil sent Davidson a memorandum two days after the rejection saying that it was a “clear attack on the spiritual character and independence of the church”.177 Cecil went on to suggest that instead of Parliament rejecting the measure, they should have resorted to more radical action: “Parliament has of course a proper remedy against the church if the church departs from sound doctrine: that remedy is to sever connection with the church by disestablishment. But to attempt to impose upon the church the House’s conception of true religious doctrine, is quite intolerable.”178 Many agreed: if Parliament rejected the measure, the end of any Parliamentary authority over the Church must also come. To reject the measure, for this school of thought, was to reject the Church of England itself.

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A Bishops’ Meeting was convened on 20 December at which the Prayer Book was the focus of discussion. All were agreed that calm heads must prevail. It was quickly agreed that the measure should be reintroduced, though there was debate over what to do in the interim. Walter Frere, the Bishop of Truro, and Thomas Strong, the Bishop of Oxford, were of the opinion that the bishops should now “restore order” on the lines of the 1927 Book.179 Frere also believed that they should be careful not to use the present crisis to “force Disestablishment”.180 Cyril Garbett, Bishop of Southwark, agreed with re-presenting the book to Parliament, but warned that if it was rejected again “the issue of Disestablishment must be frankly faced”.181 Contrast these discussions with those surrounding the Enabling Bill, where bishops had been keen to stress they were not advocating disestablishment, and that Parliament still had a vital role to play in the governance of the Church.182 Now that Parliament had scuppered more than two decades of the Church’s work, many, including those at the very top of the Church hierarchy, were questioning whether Parliament should have any role at all in the governance of the Church. If Parliament could not be trusted to approve measures supported by the overwhelming majority of the Church, then it indicated that the opinions of Church members were not as important as the concerns of Evangelical and non-­ Conformist MPs. The bishops at the meeting of 20 December decided to reintroduce the book with minor amendments.183 They also agreed on the outline of a statement to be issued by the two Archbishops, with three main points: that the measure would be reintroduced with minor changes, that the 1927 Book should not be used in the meantime, and that if it was rejected again “the Church would be bound to take action in accordance with its own spiritual responsibility and authority”.184 When the statement was issued on 22 December, the last point, which seemed to insinuate the Church taking action against the wishes of Parliament if the book was rejected again, was left out. Whilst their episcopal brethren appeared to be agitating for potential disestablishment, the Archbishops were appealing for calm heads. Concluding their statement the Archbishops said that “In these happenings God must have some purpose for His Church. May we have humility and faith to discern it, strength and steadfastness to obey it.”185 And so the bishops set out with calm heads, not to reimagine the scheme of Church governance in England, but to tinker with the Revised Book to try and make it acceptable to Parliament. Rubrics were altered and new ones added to try and make clearer what the book would autho-

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rise and how the new Communion service was aligned with the theology of the 1662 Book. Elements of the pink slip regulations were integrated into the alternative order for the communion of the sick, and a rubric was added that suggested reservation over longer periods would be limited to hospitals, chaplaincies, and times of particular need in Parishes, such as times of widespread illness.186 Anti-revision speeches in Parliament had been focused on the idea of the book as not being Protestant, fuelled by the belief that reservation of the elements was intrinsically Roman Catholic, and claims that there was no need for an alternative Communion service to the 1662. As such, unless the bishops had scrapped 20 years of negotiations and removed the alternative Communion and communion of the sick services from the book, all they could really hope was that by adjusting the rubrics they could make the Protestant nature of these services more explicit. The revision of the revised Prayer Book was done by January 1928, and was presented to the Church Assembly on 6 February.187 This was a date of great symbolic importance, being 25 years since the confirmation of Davidson’s election as Archbishop of Canterbury.188 Davidson once again found himself proposing the motion, and managed to find positive elements in the rejection the previous year, specifically the way it had made many take an interest in the Prayer Book and the services of the Church.189 He also noted that recent incidents should have set them [the Church] thinking, perhaps freshly, about the relations of Church and State and the responsibility of each. The word ‘disestablishment’ passed glibly from lip to lip, and was handled colloquially with an ease which seemed to indicate forgetfulness of the sacredness of the trust which the Church held from God as the recognised mouthpiece of the nation’s faith and the recognised and accredited ministrant of the Word and Sacraments of Christ to all who would accept that service at its hands.190

Whilst many were pushing for the Church to move forward from the Enabling Bill to a complete break of the Church from the State, Davidson was calling them back to the ecclesiological beliefs that had inspired the Enabling Bill. The Church, in this view, was given a special privilege by being so linked to the State, and whilst it should be free to make its own internal decisions, it was also given a sacred task to be the church to the nation. Davidson was not defending Parliament’s rejection, but he was

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cautioning that the Church should not in their hurt find themselves abandoning their sacred mission and duty. Bishop Barnes objected to this approach seeing Parliament’s action as a slight: “The House of Commons had turned it [the 1927 Book] down because it considered that the Church was not capable or worthy of self-government.”191 In reality, anti-­ revision speakers had spoken more of the inability of bishops to enforce law rather than of the Church to govern itself, but Barnes’ comments demonstrate how many churchmen had taken the rejection. The Assembly wasn’t in the mood for a big debate, and quickly gave general assent to the measure, again with around 80% for, and 20% against.192 The book then moved to a joint meeting of Convocation held at Church House on 28 and 29 March. The Upper Houses quickly voted to approve the book,193 but there was trouble brewing in the Lower Houses. There was some unhappiness amongst Anglo-Catholics over a new rubric that had been added to the Communion service, at the request of the House of Laity in the Assembly, which stated that “It is an ancient and laudable custom of the Church to receive this Holy Sacrament fasting. Yet for the avoidance of all scruple it is hereby declared that such preparation may be used or not used, according to every man’s conscience in the sight of God.”194 Historically speaking, this was a major concession to Anglo-­ Catholicism as fasting before receiving Communion had never been a tradition within the Church of England, but the Anglo-Catholics took their own custom—reintroduced less than a century before—to be the true tradition of the Church of England and could not believe the bishops would admit it was acceptable not to fast before receiving communion. In the York Lower House, Edward Keeble Talbot, superior of the Community of the Resurrection and son of the by now retired Edward Stuart Talbot, former Bishop of Winchester, claimed that “He was one who had hitherto supported the Deposited Book, but he felt that he could not do so any longer.”195 He based his change of heart on two rubrics, the one on fasting, which Talbot thought would “make fasting a matter of indifference in many parishes, and a thing difficult to introduce as the normal positive standard of the Church”.196 In Canterbury Lower House Canon S. Cooper rejected the new rubric, invoking the diverse figures of Augustine of Hippo and Richard Hooker as people who supported fasting.197 Cooper, however, was also opposed to the book, and decried the fact that Convocation “had been complying for twenty years past with a request which had come from the State”.198 Ultimately though, both Lower

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Houses gave their approval, with slightly less votes for the measure than in the previous year.199 The measure thus returned to the Church Assembly on 26 and 27 April. Davidson had celebrated his 80th birthday earlier that month, and his proposal speech was that of a weary man. He that the book was “the product of more prolonged, detailed and even meticulous debate and consideration than any corresponding document which I at least know of”.200 However he was “coming to doubt whether the compilation of such a Book or Books can ever be wisely and satisfactorily undertaken by a complex body, clerical and lay, consisting of 711 members”.201 Nonetheless, the measure still needed the approval of those 711 members if it was to go forward. And so the members began their debate. C.E. Douglas, a clergy representative from Southwark, grasped that the main issue anti-revision forces in Parliament had was the question of whether “the Measure and the Book attached to it tended towards Romanising”.202 He pointed out the hypocrisy of the House of Commons now taking such issue with denying a Prayer Book it viewed as Romanising because “If Romanism were such a danger to the country, why did the same Parliament that refused that Prayer Book pass a Catholic Disabilities Removal Act?”203 If actual Roman Catholics were allowed to influence the state and nation, why couldn’t the Church of England rehabilitate certain practices deemed to be Roman in origin? One of the representatives of that Parliament, Thomas Inskip, spoke to defend Parliament, saying that in face of much criticism of the Commons as not being the lay synod of the Church, it must be recognised that “They were not a pagan assembly in the House of Commons.”204 Inskip insisted he, like those in support of the book, wanted to move on with the work of the Church, but believed that it was rejection of the book, rather than its passage, that would see this happen.205 Another representative of the Commons, Hugh Cecil, affirmed that many of the features of the alternative Communion service that had been criticised as Romanising, such as the epiclesis and the anamnesis “were not only supported by a great wealth of Anglican tradition, but actually found a place in a Presbyterian form lately put forward by the authority of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland”.206 These debates would be continued in Parliament; the Assembly approved the measure, again with a lower number of votes for than in the previous year, with around 70% voting for the measure.207 For its second round in Parliament, with full knowledge that the Commons was the House of difficulty, the measure was presented to the

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House of Commons first, on 13 and 14 June 1928. The measure was proposed by Boyd Merriman, who gave a competent speech, in which he said that though he wished the measure had been accepted unanimously by Parliament, he did not regret its rejection as it had made people take an interest in the Church, and allowed the bishops to take note of the concerns of the laity about extreme ritualism and ensure the book was explicit in its affirmation of Protestant doctrine.208 Merriman described himself as “one who desires as ardently as any Member in this House to maintain the Protestant character of the Church of England”,209 and emphasised that “this Book maintains the Protestant character of the Church of England, and that the additions and the amendments which have been made since December last make that position abundantly clear”.210 This speech met the anti-revision movement on its own ground, defending the book as Protestant and using dislike of it by extreme Anglo-Catholics and figures from the Malines Conversations as evidence it was not Romanising.211 In response the anti-revision speeches in the debate became even more outlandish. S.  Roberts said that although the Church claimed that the book was supported by the laity, he knew from people he had met it was not, and the votes of the Assembly and on the diocesan level in the support of the book should be ignored, as these bodies were unrepresentative.212 They were unrepresentative, Roberts claimed, because the parish rolls which formed the basis of the electorate were ‘incomplete’,213 missing people who apparently cared enough about the Church to be angry about the Prayer Book, but not enough to have registered themselves on the parish rolls over the last eight years. Even more conspiratorial was his claim that the votes for lay representatives were rigged by the priests of the church, who, he claimed, selected the candidate and ensured the vote for them was only a formality.214 Not content with attacking the liturgy of the Church, the anti-revision movement was now attacking its governance. This could provide a justification for Parliament overriding the decisions of the Church and enforcing a liturgy on it, as in this view only the Commons were the true representative of the laity of the Church of England and could be trusted to ensure its voice was heard. John Birchall, MP for Leeds North East, was having none of this, dismissing the idea “that we poor laymen are being priest ridden, that we have no opportunity of expressing our opinions”.215 Instead, Birchall countered, under the Enabling Bill the laity had more of a voice in “the work of the Church” than they had ever had.216 So just as pro-revision speakers shifted their arguments to take on the doctrinal issues of anti-revision speakers, anti-­

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revision speakers took on the ecclesiological arguments of the revision speakers, presenting the book not as one with great support and of comprehensiveness, but one that excluded the laity and thus justified the intervention of the Commons. Because the anti-revision speakers moved onto ecclesiological ground, and perhaps because discussions had taken place within the Church, this debate featured much more discussion of Church and State relations than that in the previous December. Henry Snell asked: “How far is this doctrine that a State institution must be free from the State to extend?”217 For Snell it was “a dangerous doctrine” that the Church could make requests that went against the will of the State, as the Church of England was to be seen as “servants of the State”.218 It was thus the duty of Parliament to tell the Church “that in the end the State, and not the Church, is going to be master in this Realm”.219 Rosslyn Mitchell emphasised that “The Church of England is really a sort of representative Church of the whole people of England” as justification why he as a Presbyterian MP representing a Scottish constituency had the right to override the decisions and will of the Church of England.220 A pro-revision speaker from the Church of Scotland was found in Robert Horne, Unionist MP for Glasgow Hillhead and former Chancellor of the Exchequer, who reminded the House that in 1921 his Church had received from Parliament permission to use any form of worship it so desired.221 Horne pointed out that if Joynson-Hicks was a member of the Church of Scotland or a non-Conformist and had disagreed with a new liturgy they introduced, he would have had to discuss it in that church’s internal councils and win the debate. Instead, having lost the debate internally in the Church of England, Joynson-Hicks was relying on the votes of Presbyterians and non-Conformists in Parliament to override the Church’s decision.222 Joynson-Hicks, opening the second day of debate, affirmed that Parliament had the inalienable right to reject the Revised Book because “The Prayer Book itself was set up and established by Parliament. It is the creation of Parliament.”223 It was not the authors of the Book of Common Prayer, Church figures such as Cranmer and members of the Savoy Conference, who could claim authorship and ownership of the book, but those who authorised its usage, Parliament. Winston Churchill used ecclesiology to justify his support for the measure, arguing that the Church had utilised “the only means of corporate expression” the Church had by asking for the book through the Assembly.224 He admitted he had ­

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abstained in December as he did not like some aspects of the book,225 but found he no longer could stand by while The Church stands at the Bar of the House of Commons and waits. That, to me, is a most surprising spectacle. Here you have the greatest surviving Protestant institution in the world patiently listening to Debates on its spiritual doctrines by twentieth century democratically-elected politicians who, quite apart from their constitutional rights, have really no credentials except goodwill. It is a strange spectacle, and rather repellent.226

Churchill thus found himself on the side of revision, sharing the view of many within the Church that regardless of its legal right to do so, Parliament was not the place to debate the doctrine of the Church of England, those debates should take place within the Church. Although this was a debate which, unlike the one in December 1927, found the two sides actually debating each other, rather than discussing two separate streams of thought, the result was the same, and the book was rejected by 266 to 220 (45% to 55%).227 The defeat was certainly less of a surprise than the last one, but its immediate aftermath was more uncontrollable. The day after the vote, Davidson sent a letter to all diocesan bishops urging them not to comment: “The Archbishop will welcome any expressions of opinion that may reach him from bishops who write to him, but individual public utterances by himself or other bishops at such a time might, he feels, prove misleading and harmful.”228 John Greig, Bishop of Guilford, replied the same day to inform Davidson that he had already prepared an overview of the situation for his diocese, and was unclear over whether he had already sent it to the clergy of the diocese.229 In the overview Greig wrote that “With the rejection of the ‘Deposited Book’ by the House of Commons a very long chapter of our island history draws to its close.”230 In Greig’s view, this was a period of 1500 years in which England had always been united, not politically, but through its united Church, resulting in a situation in which “the island Church and the island kingdom were coterminous and united in the closest bonds”.231 But as a “result of the vote in the House of Commons. The union of Church and State has received a mortal wound and its passing away is seems certain.”232 Greig’s alteration of his words from “is” to “seems” suggests he believed passing over this precipice was not a certainty. Rebuking the anti-revision voices in Parliament, Greig asserted that “The life of our Church did not originate in the State nor does it in any

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way depend on Parliament.”233 This was the rhetoric of, if not disestablishment, unilateral action by the Church against the wishes of Parliament. Greig was not the only bishop to be thinking about the massive repercussions that this recent vote would have for the Church. In the week after the vote, Viscount Woolmer and William Temple, since 1921 Bishop of Manchester, who had been a large impetus behind the Enabling Bill, sent out invitations for a meeting to be held at the beginning of July to discuss “whether we ought to agitate to try and secure for the Church of England the same powers as are enjoyed by the Church of Scotland”.234 It was not only at the top of the hierarchy that a major realignment of the Church-­ State relationship was being discussed. Edward Keble Talbort, Superior of the Community of the Resurrection in Mirfield, wrote to his father Edward Stuart Talbort, retired Bishop of Winchester, about “the shadow of the Act of Uniformity” and the need for a new “atmosphere” of “liberty and charity”.235 Within a week of the vote, movements for a radical reimagining of Church-State relations were springing up across the Church. The work of Currie suggests that there was not such an appetite for anything resembling disestablishment within Parliament.236 When the bishops held a meeting on June 29, Davidson told those gathered that he recognised there were issues affecting the Church-State relationship, but that it had to be admitted that Parliament had acted legally.237 He also thought it worth noting that Parliament, in his view, had acted under pressure from what he termed the “B[isho]p of Norwich’s friends”, Evangelical pressure groups, and also Anglo-Catholic groups, such as the ECU, who had said they would not obey the new book.238 His point here was to emphasise that a very vocal minority within the Church of England who opposed the book had played a large part in ensuring Parliament rejected it after failing to get the Church to do so. Lang believed that “Whatever the intentions of members of the House of Commons, the effect of their action was to raise the whole question whether the existing law of the relationship between Church and State was satisfactory and consistent with the fundamental rights of a Christian Church.”239 When the Church Assembly met on 2 July, Davidson gave the speech of a great statesman. The issue of the Prayer Book was not up for debate, but Davidson felt it important he should address the Assembly on the matter.240 He addressed the issue of Church-State relations from the start: “If the House of Commons, by its vote on June 14th—a vote which I deplore—is supposed to have flouted or violated the well-proven ­working arrangement of Church and State, the House did it with no intent of a

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constitutional kind. Many of those who rejected the resolution believed, however mistakenly, that they were voicing the real underlying wish of a majority of Church folk in England.”241 Davidson chastised the Commons for not respecting “the wishes of the solid central body of Church opinion duly expressed and recorded both centrally and locally throughout the land” and instead listening to the “representations of the strange combination of vehement opposite groups or factions of Churchmen united only in their resolve to get the Measure and the Book defeated”.242 However his speech offered no indication of what the route forward would be, apart from informing the Assembly that the Revised Book would not be presented to Parliament a third time.243 Instead he suggested that the work of long years may guide them in the future,244 but “that depends. It depends, my younger brothers, and you are nearly all my younger brothers, upon you.”245 He urged the Church to move forward, inspired by the work of the past decades, “to go forward unitedly in God’s service as Christ’s men, strong in the power of prayer and conscious of His Captaincy alone”.246 Davidson, now an octogenarian, was commending the Church to move forward into an uncertain future, strengthened by the knowledge that in the work that had consumed the greater part of the 25 years of his reign they had always tried to follow Christ. It was little surprise that by the end of July he had informed the Prime Minister of his desire to resign.247 By the end of 1928, Davidson had stepped down from Canterbury, and  Lang, his once youthful junior at York, had ascended to the throne of  Augustine. In the September the bishops had decided to authorise elements of the 1928 Book, and that it would be up to individual ­ ­bishops to decide whether churches in their diocese could use the alternative Communion Canon from the book.248 As Will Adam identified, the bishops “sanctioned the breaking of the law, without changing the law, for a period of time for a specific purpose—in this case to improve the worship of the Church”.249 With no pushback from Parliament, the Church of England quietly oversaw a major revolution in the relationship between the bishops and Parliament: bishops unilaterally authorised the use of alternative liturgy and prayers to those contained within the Prayer Book of 1662, without any Parliamentary approval. As Ian Machin said, “On the one hand, Parliament would not grant the Church Assembly what it wanted in 1927–8; on the other, it would not prevent the desired course being pursued without the support of civil law.”250 This new world of legal ­ limbo was left to be governed by Lang and his youthful successor at York,

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Temple. There is something of a beautiful cyclical nature that the major theological challenge facing the Church at the end of the revision process was the same as had faced the Church when they began the revision process; what should be the relationship between the Church and the State in the twentieth century, and more importantly, what should the Church do when its desires did not align with those of Parliament? This was not a question that would be answered in the years to come, and continues to exercise the Church of England’s mind today. Karl Marx in his study of the rise of Napoleon III wrote the famous lines: “Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under circumstances chosen by themselves, but under circumstances directly encountered, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living.”251 The Church of England may now in the twenty-­ first century have an official liturgy gained without the need for Parliamentary authority, but there is a reason that the Church of England even in the twenty-first century dares not touch the Prayer Book. Nearly a century on, the pain is still too sharp and the wound not fully healed. Consciously or not, the nightmare of the Prayer Book crisis still haunts the Church of England.

Notes 1. National Assembly of the Church of England. Summer and Autumn Sessions, 1920. Report of Proceedings (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1921), 116. 2. Ibid., 117–119. 3. National Assembly of the Church of England. Summer Session, 1921. Report of Proceedings. Vol. II, No. 2 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1921), 6. 4. Ibid., 128; National Assembly of the Church of England. Autumn Session, 1921. Report of Proceedings. Vol. II, No. 3 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1921), 28. 5. National Assembly of the Church of England. Spring Session, 1922. Report of Proceedings. Vol. III, No. 2 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1922), 39. 6. Ibid., 40–41. 7. Ibid., 41. 8. John G.  Maiden, National Religion and the Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1928 (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2009), 45.

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9. National Assembly of the Church of England. Spring Session, 1922, 47. 10. Ibid., 64. 11. National Assembly of the Church of England. Spring Session, 1923. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IV. No. 1 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1923), 8. 12. Ibid. 13. National Assembly of the Church of England. Autumn Session, 1923. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IV. No. 3 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1923), 329. 14. The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments and Other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church, According to the Use of the Church of England Together with the Psalter or Psalms of David Pointed as They Are to Be Sung or Said in Churches and the Form and Manner of Making, Ordaining, and Consecrating of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1923). 15. Ibid., 270. 16. Ibid., 270–271. 17. Ibid., 271. 18. Ibid., 272. 19. Ibid., 277. 20. Ibid., 288. 21. Ibid., 289. 22. Ibid., 295. 23. Ibid., 370–371. 24. Ibid., 371. This reference to rules made by “the Archbishops and Bishops in their Convocations” seems to suggest it does not include within its scope the Bishops’ Meetings, where most of the Bishoprics decisions regarding reservation were actually made. 25. Donald Gray, The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (2) The Cul-De-Sac of the “Deposited Book” … Until Further Order Be Taken, Joint Liturgical Studies 61 (London: The Alcuin Club and the Group for Renewal of Worship, 2006), 4–10. 26. Nigel Yates, Anglican Ritualism in Victorian Britain, 1830–1910 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 346. 27. J.D.  Martell, “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28” (MA Thesis: Durham University, 1974), 28–33. 28. A New Prayer Book: Proposals for the Revision of the Book of Common Prayer and for Additional Services and Prayers, Drawn up by a Group of Clergy, Second Edition Revised (London: Humphrey Milford, 1923), 9–18. 29. Ibid., 27.

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30. Bishops’ Meeting 8, 22. 31. Ibid. 32. National Assembly of the Church of England. Autumn Session, 1923, 336. 33. Ibid., 363–366. 34. Ibid., 330. 35. Ibid., 408. 36. Church Assembly. Spring Session, 1924. Report of Proceedings. Vol. V. No. 1 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1924), 53–54. 37. Ibid., 72. 38. National Assembly of the Church of England. Summer Session, 1921, 4–5. 39. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1924. Report of Proceedings. Vol. V. No. 2 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1924), 198. 40. Church Assembly. Spring Session, 1925. Report of Proceedings. Vol. VI. No. 1 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1925), 136. 41. Ibid., 138. 42. Wilbrahan to Davidson, 7 March 1925; Davidson Papers, vol. 448, fol. 209. Emphasis in original. 43. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1925. Report of Proceedings. Vol. VI. No. 2 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1925), 367. 44. Ibid., 373. 45. Ibid., 373–374. 46. Ibid., 388. 47. Ibid. 48. The record of the Bishops’ Meeting does not record the exact membership of the committee. Bishops’ Meeting 8, 65. 49. Confidential. Church Assembly. House of Bishops. Notes of an Interview with the Conference Committee of the House of Clergy held on Thursday, January 14, 1926, at 2.30.p.m.; Lang Papers vol. 57, ff. 61–62. 50. Ibid., fol. 68. 51. Church Assembly. House of Bishops. Note of an interview with the Conference Committee of the House of Laity held on Monday, January 19th, 1926, at 2.30 p.m.; Lang Papers, vol. 57, ff. 69–75. 52. It appears that Lang’s personal notes on the revision process are contained within one notebook (Lang Papers, vol. 211), but due to difficulty with deciphering Lang’s handwriting, I have been unable to properly look at these notes. 53. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Seventh Georgio Quinto Regnante, The

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Upper and Lower Houses in the Sessions of February 7, 22–25, and March 29 and 30, 1927 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1927), 1. 54. Pollock to Davidson, 17 January 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 450, fol. 18. 55. Chronicle of Convocation February and March 1927, 3. 56. Ibid., 4. 57. Ibid. 58. Ibid., 4–5. 59. Ibid., 5. 60. Ibid., 7. 61. Ibid., 13. 62. Ibid., 18. 63. Ibid., 33–39. 64. National Assembly of the Church of England. Book Proposed to Be Annexed to the Prayer Book Measure 192-: Provisional, Subject to Further Revision by the House of Bishops (Issued Feb. 7th, 1927)/The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments & Other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church: According to the Use of the Church of England Together with the Form and Manner of Making, Ordaining, and Consecrating of Bishops, Priests and Deacons: The Book of 1662 with Permissive Additions & Deviations Approved in 1927 (London: Oxford University Press and Cambridge University Press, 1927). 65. Ibid., 236. 66. Ibid., 242–243. 67. Ibid., 302. 68. Ibid. 69. Chronicle of Convocation February and March 1927, 55. 70. The York Journal of Convocation Containing the Acts and Debates of the Convocation of the Province of York, in the Sessions of February 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 1927 (York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1927), 12. 71. Ibid., 17, 21. 72. Potentially Beresford Kidd, Warden of Keeble College. 73. Chronicle of Convocation February and March 1927, 148–149. 74. The votes by House were: Canterbury, UH For 21, Against 4, LH For 168, Against 22, York UH Unanimously For, LH For 68, Against 10. Ibid., 161. The percentages are: Cant. UH For 84% Against 16%, LH For 88.42% Against 11.58%, York UH For 100%, LH For 87.18% Against 12.82%. 75. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1927. Report of Proceedings. Vol. VIII. No. 2 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1927), 98.

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76. G.K.A. Bell, Randall Davidson: Archbishop of Canterbury, Third Edition (London: Oxford University Press, 1952), 1356. 77. J.G.  Lockhart, Cosmo Gordon Lang (London: Hodder and Stoughton Limited, 1949), 300. 78. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1927, 99–100. 79. Ibid., 100–101. 80. Ibid., 103. 81. Ibid., 104. There is no suggestion in the record that these votes were in anyway binding on the Church, instead they seem to have been voluntary consultative votes. 82. Ibid. 83. Ibid., 108. 84. Ibid., 109. 85. Ibid. 86. Ibid., 110. 87. Ibid., 115. 88. Ibid., 116. 89. Ibid. 90. Ibid. 91. Ibid., 117. 92. Dan D.  Cruickshank, “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric: Ritualism and Royal Commissions in Late Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-Century England,” Studies in Church History 56 (2020) [in press]. 93. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1927, 124. 94. See Chap. 1 of this book. 95. Ibid., 130. 96. Maiden, National Religion. 97. Ibid., 151. 98. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1927, 188. 99. Ibid., 191. 100. Ibid., 196. 101. Voting results were: Bishops For 34 (89.47%), Against 4 (10.53%), Clergy For 253 (87.24%), Against (12.76%), Laity For 230 (71.43%), Against (28.57%). Ibid. 102. Ibid. 103. Maiden, National Religion, 44–45. 104. Ibid., 71. 105. Ibid. 106. Ibid. 107. Martell is very good at showing how Protestant opposition organisations relied on the support of non-Conformists, see Martell, “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28,” 80–130.

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108. Adrian Hastings, A History of English Christianity, 1920–1990 (London: SCM Press, 1991), 206. 109. Hugh Cecil to Davidson, 29 July 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 452, fol. 293. 110. Ibid. 111. Davidson to Lang, 29 July 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 452, fol. 292. 112. For a thorough account of Lang’s involvement in the abdication crisis see: Robert Beaken, Cosmo Lang: Archbishop in War and Crisis (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2012), 86–142. 113. Lang to Davidson, 2 August 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 453, fol. 8. 114. Lang to Davidson, 10 August 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 453, fol. 26. 115. Davidson to Lang, 5 August 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 453, fol. 20. 116. Martell, “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28,” 183–184. 117. Davidson to Lang, 20 October 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 453, fol. 238. 118. Bell, Davidson, 1319. 119. Ibid., 1319–1321. 120. Hastings, A History of English Christianity, 208. 121. Ibid. 122. Ibid., 209. This argument seems to be based on a conflation of sections of the Appeal to All Christian People from Lambeth 1920, which had included how Anglicanism and other Churches could recognise each other’s orders as having their “place in the one family life” and a letter between Davidson and Mercier in which Davidson stated that with the Roman Catholic delegates now having a level of Papal approval, “the position of the members of the Church of England who take part as your guests in the discussions to which Your Eminence invites them, corresponds to the position accorded to the Roman Catholic members of the group, and that the responsibilities, such as they are, which attach to such conversations are thus shared in equal degree by all who take part in them” (emphasis added). This is a rather cagy reply, which does not give the group the status of official representatives of the Church, but rather seems to emphasise the shared responsibility of those present for whatever is said and done at the Conversations, but there is no sense that this responsibility extends to the two Churches themselves. See Bell, Davidson, 1256 and 1259. 123. Bell shows quite clearly that Davidson when first approached by Halifax was only asked to give a letter of introduction to the Cardinal on behalf of Halifax, and Davidson was quite clear in the letter that “Lord Halifax does not go in any sense as an ambassador or formal representative of the Church of England”, going on to make clear that “Anything that he says therefore would be an expression of his personal opinion rather than an

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authoritative statement of the position of the Church of England”. See Bell, Davidson, 1255. Humility was not Halifax’s strong point, so it is not all that surprising he took this rather reluctant letter of approval as Archiepiscopal blessing, though it does say something of perhaps the naivety of Davidson of allowing a man who had previously boasted to Davidson of the illegality taking place in his private chapel to run away to Belgium to conduct talks with the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church. 124. Hastings, A History of English Christianity, 209. 125. Bell, Davidson, 1261–1299. 126. Ibid., 1301. Thomas Inskip was a Conservative MP and one of the leading figures of the anti-revision campaign. 127. No mention was made in these discussions of the major Parliamentary reforms that had taken place in the previous decade with the Representation of the People Act 1918, which saw the enfranchisement of all men over 21 and to certain women aged over 28 who fulfilled certain property criteria. Nor was any mention made of the growth of the Labour Party since the election of 1922, who were now the second largest party in the Commons. See: Robert Blackburn, “Laying the Foundations of the Modern Voting System: The Representation of the People Act 1918,” Parliamentary History 30 (2011): 33–52; Keith Laybourn, “Labour In and Out of Government, 1923–35,” in The Labour Party: A Centenary History, ed. Brian Brivati and Richard Heffernan (Houndmills, Basingstoke and London: Macmillan Press, 2000), 50–67. 128. James Gascoyne-Cecil to Davidson, 18 October 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 453, fol. 222. 129. Ibid., fol. 223. 130. “House of Bishops. Prayer Book Measure, 192-. [C.A. 230.]: Memorandum Explaining Drafting Changes Made in the Measure,” in Church Assembly. Prayer Book Measure, 192-: Provisional Draft - Subject to Further Revision by the House of Bishops (Issued Feb. 7, 1927) (London: Church Assembly and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1927), 2. 131. The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments & Other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church; According to the Use of the Church of England Together with the Form and Manner of Making, Ordaining, and Consecrating of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons. The Book of 1662 with Additions & Deviations Approved in 1927 (London: Oxford University Press, 1927), 283. 132. MS Laid in Book Referred to In the Prayer Book Measure, H5147.4, Printed for the information of Members of Convocation. Proposed Rules concerning Reservation, March 1927.

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133. HL Deb. 12 December 1927 vol. 69, c. 772. 134. Ibid. 135. Ibid. 136. Ibid. 137. Ibid., cc. 785–786. 138. Ibid., c. 780. 139. Ibid., c. 791. 140. Ibid., c. 813. 141. HL Deb. 13 December 1927, vol. 69, c. 914. 142. HL Deb. 12 December 1927, vol. 69, c. 796. 143. Ibid., c. 807. 144. HL Deb. 13 December 1927, vol. 69, c. 843. 145. Ibid., c. 867. 146. Ibid. 147. Ibid., cc. 910–911. 148. HL Deb. 14 December 1927, vol. 69, c. 986. 149. Stamfordham to Davidson, 15 December 1927: Davidson Papers, vol. 454, fol. 152. 150. Maiden, National Religion, 141. 151. Ibid., 142. 152. HC Deb. 15 December 1927, vol. 211, c. 2537. 153. Ibid., c. 2541. 154. Gray, The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (2), 30. 155. HC Deb. 15 December 1927, vol. 211, c. 2544. 156. Ibid., c. 2545. 157. Ibid., c. 2570. 158. Ibid., c. 2634. 159. Ibid., c. 2649. 160. Ibid., c. 2589. 161. Ibid., c. 2589. 162. Maiden, National Religion, 145. 163. HC Deb. 15 December 1927, vol. 211, c. 2560. 164. Ibid., c. 2562. 165. Ibid., c. 2622. 166. Ibid., c. 2643. 167. Maiden, National Religion, 148. 168. Robert Currie, “Power and Principle: The Anglican Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1930,” Church History 33 (1964), 194. 169. James Kirby, Historians and the Church of England: Religion and Historical Scholarship, 1870–1920 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 165. 170. Ibid., 217.

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171. A.J.P.  Taylor, English History, 1914–1945 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), 259. 172. HC Deb. 15 December 1927, vol. 211, c. 2652. There is much more to be said about how the actions of the hierarchy of the Church during the General Strike influenced Labour opposition to the Prayer Book, but it is not directly relevant to the arguments of this study and so space has not been found to do so here. 173. For an idea of how dechristianised the UK was at this time, Currie, Gilbert, and Horsley estimate that in 1927 there were just over 14,600,000 church goers in the UK out of a population of just over 48 million. See Robert Currie, Alan Gilbert, and Lee Horsley, Churches and Churchgoers: Patterns of Church Growth in the British Isles Since 1700 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), 31. 174. HC Deb. 15 December 1927, vol. 22, c. 2652. 175. R.C.D.  Jasper, The Development of the Anglican Liturgy, 1662–1980 (London: SPCK, 1989), 145. 176. Official Statement on the Prayer Book Measure; Davidson Papers, vol. 454, ff. 155–159. 177. Memorandum by Hugh Cecil, 17 December 1927; Davidson Papers, vol. 454, fol. 208. 178. Ibid., fol. 209. 179. Bishops’ Meeting 8, 172. 180. Ibid. 181. Ibid. 182. Gary W. Graber, “Reforming Ecclesiastical Self-Government Within the Establishment,” in Change and Transformation: Essays in Anglican History, ed. Thomas P.  Power (Eugene: Pickwick Publications, 2013), 231–232. 183. Bishops’ Meeting 8, 174. 184. Ibid. 185. Ibid. 186. The Book of Common Prayer With the Additions and Deviations Proposed in 1928 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, n.d.), 465. 187. Church Assembly. Spring Session, 1928. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IX. No. 1 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1928), 3. 188. Bell, Davidson, 393. 189. Church Assembly. Spring Session, 1928, 6. 190. Ibid. 191. Ibid., 11. 192. Voting figures were as follows: Bishops For 35, Against 5, Clergy For 247, Against 35, Laity For 196, Against 80. Ibid., 20–21.

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193. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Seventh Georgio Quinto Regnante, The Upper and Lower Houses in the Sessions of March 28 and 29, 1928 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1928), 4–5. 194. The Book of Common Prayer With the Additions and Deviations Proposed in 1928, 332. 195. The York Journal of Convocation. Report of Proceedings at a Sitting Together of the Two Houses of the Convocations of the Two Provinces of Canterbury and York at the Church House, Westminster, on Wednesday, 28th March & Thursday, 29th March, 1928 (York: W.H.  Smith & Son, 1928), 20. 196. Ibid., 22–23. 197. Chronicle of Convocation March 1928, 80. 198. Ibid., 79. 199. Canterbury For 126, Against 28, York For 50, Against 19. Ibid., 115; York Journal of Convocation March, 1928, 63. 200. Church Assembly. Special Session, 1928. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IX. No. 2 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1928), 49. 201. Ibid. 202. Ibid., 58. 203. Ibid. 204. Ibid., 73. 205. Ibid., 78–79. 206. Ibid., 83. 207. Total votes For 396 (72.13%), Against 153 (27.87%). Votes by House: Bishops For 32, Against 2, Clergy For 183, Against 59, Laity For 181, Against 92. The House of Laity thus had the lowest majority for the measure at 66.3% For and 33.7% Against. Ibid., 196. 208. HC Deb 13 June 1928, vol. 218, c. 1003. 209. Ibid. 210. Ibid., c. 1011. 211. Ibid., c. 1016. 212. Ibid., c. 1028. 213. Ibid., c. 1029. 214. Ibid. 215. Ibid., c. 1056. 216. Ibid. 217. Ibid., c. 1083. 218. Ibid. 219. Ibid. 220. Ibid., c. 1125. It is worth noting that in both votes the defeat was secured by the votes of non-English MPs, with the measure supported by a major-

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ity of English MPs in both votes. The serious implication this had, that the Church of England was thus the representative Church of the entire UK and lay people from all four of its constituent nations had an equal say it its running, was never seriously discussed. It is unlikely that Scottish Presbyterian MPs, such as Mitchell, would be willing to concede that the Church of Scotland was less of a state Church than the Church of England, or that English MPs should have a say in the governance of the Scottish Kirk. 221. HC Deb. 14 June 1928, vol. 218, c. 1257. 222. Ibid. 223. Ibid., c. 1201. 224. Ibid., c. 1265. 225. Ibid., c. 1264. 226. Ibid., c. 1267. 227. Ibid., c. 1320. 228. ‘The Prayer Book Situation’, 15 June 1928; Davidson Papers, vol. 455, fol. 253. 229. Greig to Davidson, 15 June 1928; Davidson Papers, vol. 455, fol. 257. 230. Ibid., fol. 259. 231. Ibid. 232. Ibid., fol. 261. 233. Ibid. 234. Viscount Wolmer to Davidson, 21 June 1928; Davidson Papers, vol. 456, fol. 82. 235. Edward Keble Talbort to Edward Stuart Talbort, 15 June 1928; Davidson Papers, vol. 456, fol. 79. 236. Currie, “Power and Principle: The Anglican Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1930,” 195. 237. Davidson’s Notes on Bishops’ Meeting, 27 June 1928; Davidson Papers, vol. 456, fol. 136. 238. Ibid. 239. Bishops’ Meeting 8, 177–178. 240. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1928. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IX. No. 3 (London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1928), 114. 241. Ibid., 114–115. 242. Ibid., 115. 243. Ibid., 118. 244. Ibid., 119. 245. Ibid., 119–120. 246. Ibid., 120. 247. Bell, Davidson, 1363–1364. 248. Bishops’ Meeting 8, 189–191.

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249. Will Adam, Legal Flexibility and the Mission of the Church: Dispensation and Economy in Ecclesiastical Law (Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2011), 136. 250. Ian Machin, “Reservation under Pressure: Ritual in the Prayer Book Crisis, 1927–1928,” Studies in Church History 35 (1999): 463. 251. Karl Marx, “The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte,” in Karl Marx, Frederick Engels, Collected Works: Volume 11 (London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1979), 103.

Bibliography Primary Sources A New Prayer Book: Proposals for the Revision of the Book of Common Prayer and for Additional Services and Prayers, Drawn up by a Group of Clergy. 2nd Rev. ed. London: Humphrey Milford, 1923. Church Assembly. Spring Session, 1924. Report of Proceedings. Vol. V.  No. 1. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1924. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1924. Report of Proceedings. Vol. V.  No. 2. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1924. Church Assembly. Spring Session, 1925. Report of Proceedings. Vol. VI.  No. 1. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1925. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1925. Report of Proceedings. Vol. VI.  No. 2. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1925. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1927. Report of Proceedings. Vol. VIII. No. 2. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1927. Church Assembly. Special Session, 1928. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IX.  No. 2. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1928. Church Assembly. Spring Session, 1928. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IX.  No. 1. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1928. Church Assembly. Summer Session, 1928. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IX.  No. 3. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1928. “House of Bishops. Prayer Book Measure, 192-. [C.A. 230.]: Memorandum Explaining Drafting Changes Made in the Measure.” In Church Assembly.

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Prayer Book Measure, 192-: Provisional Draft - Subject to Further Revision by the House of Bishops (Issued Feb. 7, 1927). London: Church Assembly and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1927. National Assembly of the Church of England. Autumn Session, 1921. Report of Proceedings. Vol. II.  No. 3. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1921a. National Assembly of the Church of England. Autumn Session, 1923. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IV.  No. 3. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1923 National Assembly of the Church of England. Book Proposed to Be Annexed to the Prayer Book Measure 192-: Provisional, Subject to Further Revision by the House of Bishops (Issued Feb. 7th, 1927) / The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments & Other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church: According to the Use of the Church of England Together with the Form and Manner of Making, Ordaining, and Consecrating of Bishops, Priests and Deacons: The Book of 1662 with Permissive Additions & Deviations Approved in 1927. London: Oxford University Press and Cambridge University Press, 1927. National Assembly of the Church of England. Spring Session, 1922. Report of Proceedings. Vol. III.  No. 2. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1922. National Assembly of the Church of England. Spring Session, 1923. Report of Proceedings. Vol. IV.  No. 1. London: National Assembly of the Church of England and Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1923. National Assembly of the Church of England. Summer and Autumn Sessions, 1920. Report of Proceedings. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1921b. National Assembly of the Church of England. Summer Session, 1921. Report of Proceedings. Vol. II.  No. 2. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1921. The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments & Other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church; According to the Use of the Church of England Together with the Form and Manner of Making, Ordaining, and Consecrating of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons. The Book of 1662 with Additions & Deviations Approved in 1927. London: Oxford University Press, 1927. The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments and Other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church, According to the Use of the Church of England Together with the Psalter or Psalms of David Pointed as They Are to Be Sung or Said in Churches and the Form and Manner of Making, Ordaining, and Consecrating of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1923. The Book of Common Prayer with the Additions and Deviations Proposed in 1928. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, n.d.

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The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Seventh Georgio Quinto Regnante, The Upper and Lower Houses in the Sessions of February 7, 22–25, and March 29 and 30, 1927. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1927. The Chronicle of Convocation Being a Record of the Proceedings of the Convocation of Canterbury, The Seventh Georgio Quinto Regnante, The Upper and Lower Houses in the Sessions of March 28 and 29, 1928. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1928. The York Journal of Convocation. Report of Proceedings at a Sitting Together of the Two Houses of the Convocations of the Two Provinces of Canterbury and York at the Church House, Westminster, on Wednesday, 28th March & Thursday, 29th March, 1928. York: W.H. Smith & Son, 1928.

Secondary Sources Adam, Will. Legal Flexibility and the Mission of the Church: Dispensation and Economy in Ecclesiastical Law. Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2011. Beaken, Robert. Cosmo Lang: Archbishop in War and Crisis. London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2012. Bell, G.K.A. Randall Davidson: Archbishop of Canterbury. Third Edition. London: Oxford University Press, 1952. Blackburn, Robert. “Laying the Foundations of the Modern Voting System: The Representation of the People Act 1918.” Parliamentary History 30 (2011): 33–52. Cruickshank, Dan D. “Debating the Legal Status of the Ornaments Rubric: Ritualism and Royal Commissions in Late Nineteenth- and early Twentieth-­ Century England.” Studies in Church History 56 (2020) [in press]. Currie, Robert. “Power and Principle: The Anglican Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1930.” Church History 33 (1964): 192–205. Currie, Robert, Alan Gilbert, and Lee Horsley. Churches and Churchgoers: Patterns of Church Growth in the British Isles Since 1700. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977. Graber, Gary W. “Reforming Ecclesiastical Self-Government Within the Establishment.” In Change and Transformation: Essays in Anglican History, edited by Thomas P. Power, 212–245. Eugene: Pickwick Publications, 2013. Gray, Donald. The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (2) The Cul-De-Sac of the “Deposited Book” … until Further Order Be Taken. Joint Liturgical Studies 61. London: The Alcuin Club and the Group For Renewal of Worship, 2006. Hastings, Adrian. A History of English Christianity, 1920–1990. London: SCM Press, 1991. Jasper, R.C.D. The Development of the Anglican Liturgy, 1662–1980. London: SPCK, 1989.

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Kirby, James. Historians and the Church of England: Religion and Historical Scholarship, 1870–1920. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Laybourn, Keith. “Labour In and Out of Government, 1923–35.” In The Labour Party: A Centenary History, edited by Brian Brivati and Richard Heffernan, 50–67. Houndmills, Basingstoke and London: Macmillan Press, 2000. Lockhart, J.G. Cosmo Gordon Lang. London: Hodder and Stoughton Limited, 1949. Machin, Ian. “Reservation under Pressure: Ritual in the Prayer Book Crisis, 1927– 1928.” Studies in Church History 35 (1999): 447–63. Maiden, John G. National Religion and the Prayer Book Controversy, 1927–1928. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2009. Martell, J.D. “The Prayer Book Controversy 1927–28.” MA Thesis, Durham University, 1974. Marx, Karl. “The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte.” In Karl Marx, Frederick Engels, Collected Works. Vol. 11, 99–197. London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1979. Taylor, A.J.P. English History, 1914–1945. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965. Yates, Nigel. Anglican Ritualism in Victorian Britain, 1830–1910. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.

CHAPTER 4

Conclusion

Abstract  The conclusion summarises the findings of the book. It also highlights studies that explore the implications of the Prayer Book crisis beyond 1928, whilst identifying areas that present opportunities for more research. Keywords  Book of Common Prayer • Ecclesiology • Church of England • Lay representation • Liturgical revision First and foremost, this study has provided a historical narrative of the revision process, from its beginning in 1906 to its termination in 1928. Only by surveying the entire revision process can we appreciate the theological trends that fed into the final proposed Books of 1927 and 1928. From 1906 onwards there was a deliberate movement to bring what in the nineteenth century had been viewed as Ritualist and Anglo-Catholic practices into the legal mainstream of the Prayer Book. As the first chapter demonstrated, this was not the result of a ‘Catholicising’ influence from the First World War, for a revised Communion service and reservation of the elements had been agreed upon before the first shot even hit Franz Ferdinand. This attempt to bring much of Anglo-Catholicism into the legal framework of the Prayer Book was driven by a desire to create a new ecclesiological uniformity in the Church. No one seems to have felt this more keenly than Randall Davidson. A much-maligned figure in the © The Author(s) 2019 D. D. Cruickshank, The Theology and Ecclesiology of the Prayer Book Crisis, 1906–1928, Christianities in the Trans-Atlantic World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-27130-5_4

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­ istoriography of the period, this study has shown the pivotal role Randall h Davidson played in the revision process. It was he who continuously urged the Convocations and Assembly on in their work, he who attempted to guide the measure through Parliament without belittling that body, and he who first tried to steady the ship after the rough storm of rejection. A wider appreciation of the primary material has shown that describing Davidson as a reluctant Archbishop who did not understand the purpose of revision is a misguided interpretation which goes against the evidence. Davidson is not the only person who deserves a re-evaluation, so do the multitude of the laity of the Church of England. The evidence of votes across the entire breadth of the Church demonstrates a widespread approval of the Revised Book of 1927. In assessing this process, too much weight has been put on the speeches of anti-revision MPs, and not on the views of the Church’s own laity, as expressed in their voting records. Regarding the laity, this study has shown the period of study as one that saw a great growth in their role and power within the Church. The establishment of the National Assembly was the greatest movement of power away from the clergy that the Church of England had seen in centuries. This power would be used to great effect in the revision process in the 1920s. Their greatest achievement was ensuring the Revised Book was one complete book in itself which would seek to replace the Book of 1662. As the first chapter showed, the agreed upon decision of the bishops and clergy in the Convocations was to produce the revision as a supplementary book to the 1662. However, because of the insistence of the laity in the Assembly that the revision be one integrated book containing the 1662 and the revisions, the bishops ensured this was the case when the final Revised Book was presented in 1927. This was the first time the laity were given a voice in shaping the liturgy of the Church of England, and it marks a turning point in lay power in the Church. The power of the laity would only grow over the twentieth century, and the revision process of the 1910s and 1920s gave birth to the growing democratisation of the Church of England. The voice of the majority of the laity in the Church of England however has not been found during this study; the voice of women. Women could vote indirectly for the Church Assembly lay representatives, and the House of Commons that voted on the Prayer Book had been elected with partial suffrage of women with property. However in both cases the representatives they elected were overwhelmingly men. As such it has been assumed, at least with the Church Assembly, that the representatives they elected

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reflected their general feelings towards the revision process. But much more work needs to be done to find the actual voice of women in regards to the revision process, and not just their views as filtered through male representatives. This study has ended in the weeks after the rejection of the 1928 Book, and more work needs to be done on the long-term effects of the crisis. Donald Gray provided a brief overview of the link between the Prayer Book crisis and the birth of the liturgical renewal movement in the Church of England.1 No better way is this evidenced than by the fact that Ronald Jasper, whose work has been central to the historiography of the Prayer Book crisis, was a primary leader of that movement. A better survey of the liturgical and doctrinal links between these two movements is still needed. This study has also demonstrated that more analysis is needed of the ecclesiological links between the Prayer Book crisis and the Church of England in the later half of the twentieth century and into the dawn of the twenty-­ first. Matthew Grimley has done some work into the effects of the crisis on Church-State relations and ecclesiology in the 1930s,2 but that still leaves a large gap between then and the present day. The General Synod is a much more empowered body than the National Assembly from which it evolved, and the radical ecclesiological thinking the Prayer Book crisis led to certainly played a part in this. Will Adam has identified that the authorisation of the revised Prayer Book created a “period of … temporary suspension of observance of the law [that] was lengthy and lasted until 1965 when alternative services were permitted by a further measure of the Church Assembly”.3 However how this period of illegality by the Church operated remains to be studied. How the Prayer Book crisis influenced wider understandings of the role of the State is also to be explored. This study helps to open many new avenues of research into the history, liturgy, and theology of the Church of England in the twentieth century, a period in which we still need to strive to make the unknown known.

Notes 1. Donald Gray, The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (2) The Cul-De-Sac of the “Deposited Book” … until Further Order Be Taken (London: The Alcuin Clib and the Group for Renewal of Worship, 2006), 44–51. 2. Matthew Grimley, Citizenship, Community and the Church of England: Liberal Anglican Theories of the State Between the Wars (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 146–171.

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3. Will Adam, Legal Flexibility and the Mission of the Church: Dispensation and Economy in Ecclesiastical Law (Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2011), 136.

Bibliography Adam, Will. Legal Flexibility and the Mission of the Church: Dispensation and Economy in Ecclesiastical Law. Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2011. Gray, Donald. The 1927–28 Prayer Book Crisis: (2) The Cul-De-Sac of the “Deposited Book” … until Further Order Be Taken. Joint Liturgical Studies 61. London: The Alcuin Club and the Group for Renewal of Worship, 2006. Grimley, Matthew. Citizenship, Community and the Church of England: Liberal Anglican Theories of the State Between the Wars. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004.

Index1

A Advertisements of 1566, The, 20, 21, 54n51 Anglo-Catholicism, 2, 6, 17, 23, 24, 27–29, 34, 36, 48, 49, 51, 88, 92, 95, 98, 100, 121 Anti-revision movement in the Assembly, 83 in Parliament, 70, 79, 83, 90–92, 94, 95, 97–102, 111n126, 122 Protestant Groups, 85, 86 Archbishops’ Committee on Church & State, 40–44 B Baldwin, Stanley, 93 Balfour, A.J., 41 Barnes, Earnest, 87, 89, 98 Bishops’ Meeting, The, 4, 26, 39, 40, 74, 76, 96, 103 Book of Common Prayer

1549, 27, 28, 33, 48, 55n92, 61n254, 73 1552, 27, 35, 48, 55n92 1662, 5, 6, 16, 23, 27–29, 34, 35, 51n1, 72, 75–79, 84, 91, 93, 97, 104, 108n64, 122 C Campbell-Bannerman, Henry, 13, 14 Carson, Edward, 91 Cecil, Hugh, 76, 86, 93, 95, 99 Cecil, William, 71 Chase, Fredric, 26, 35, 46, 49 Churchill, Winston, 101, 102 Church of Scotland, 93, 99, 101, 103, 115n220 Committees, 41 Communion Office, 12, 21–29, 55n92, 74, 75, 79, 84 Communion of the sick, 25–27, 33, 36–38, 40, 74, 76, 82, 89, 97

 Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

© The Author(s) 2019 D. D. Cruickshank, The Theology and Ecclesiology of the Prayer Book Crisis, 1906–1928, Christianities in the Trans-Atlantic World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-27130-5

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INDEX

Community of the Resurrection, 98, 103 Convocation of Canterbury Lower House, 15, 18, 22, 25, 28, 33–35, 43, 47–50, 79, 98 Upper House, 14–16, 18–20, 26, 34–36, 39, 47, 49, 98 Convocation of York Lower House, 18, 20, 21, 23, 25, 28, 33–35, 43, 47, 49, 79, 98 Upper House, 18, 21, 22, 27, 28, 32–35, 47, 49, 98

Greig, John, 102, 103 Grey Book, 73, 74

D Davidson, Randall, 2–4, 12–18, 29, 30, 32, 33, 35–38, 45, 49, 50, 70, 74, 75, 77–82, 85–93, 95, 97, 99, 102–104, 110n122, 110–111n123, 121, 122 Dawson, Geoffrey, 87 Disestablishment, 95–97, 103

I Inskip, Thomas, 84, 88, 94, 99, 111n126

E Enabling Bill, The, 2, 5, 45, 81, 83, 86, 90, 93, 96, 97, 100, 103 English Church Union (ECU), The, 73, 78, 88, 103 Evangelicalism, 12, 21, 24, 25, 29, 33, 34, 47–49, 51, 84, 86, 95, 96

K Knox, Edmund, 45, 49, 85, 88

H Halifax, Lord (Charles Wood), 88, 91, 110n123 Henson, Hensley, 43, 44, 47, 49 House of Commons, 6, 15, 33, 45, 71, 81, 83, 89, 92, 94, 95, 98–104, 111n127 House of Lords, 45, 86, 89–93

J Joynson-Hicks, William, 81, 82, 92, 93, 101

L Lang, Cosmo, 16, 19, 21, 23, 27, 33, 49, 80, 84, 86, 87, 103, 104 Lord’s Prayer, The, 27, 28, 48, 74

F First World War, 2, 12, 29–40, 42, 51, 121 Frere, Walter, 41, 88, 96

M Maclagan, William, 17–19 Malines Conversations, 87–89, 100

G Gibson, Edgar, 35, 47, 70, 71 Gore, Charles, 16, 22, 36–39 Green Book, 73, 74

N National Assembly of the Church of England, vii, 2–5, 12, 18, 21, 40–51, 69–105, 122, 123

 INDEX 

House of Bishops, 42, 72, 76 House of Clergy, 42, 72, 74–79 House of Laity, 31, 71, 74–76, 83, 91, 98, 114n207 National Mission of Repentance and Hope, 32 O Orange Book, 73 Ornaments Rubric, The, 17, 24, 32, 34, 52n29, 54n51 Oxford Movement, The, 16, 17 P Parochial Church Councils (PCCs), 42, 43, 82, 83 Pink slip, The, 89, 93, 97 Pollock, Bertram, 35, 39, 49, 77 Prayer of Humble Access, 28, 33, 34, 48 Protestant Alliance, The, 85 R Reformation, The, 12, 20, 28, 30, 50, 94 Representative Church Council, 18, 30, 40–42, 44 Reservation of the consecrated elements, 12, 24–27, 29–40, 46, 70, 73–76, 78, 79, 81, 82, 84, 89, 90, 93, 94, 97, 121 permanent reservation, 25, 37, 40, 73, 75, 89, 94

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Ritualism, 2, 6, 12, 13, 17, 28, 52n29, 121 Roman Catholicism, 13, 16, 22, 27, 28, 31, 48, 83, 84, 88, 91, 92, 94, 95, 97, 110n122, 111n123 anti-Catholicism, 83, 84, 89, 92–94 Royal Commission into Ecclesiastical Discipline, 12, 13, 17, 20, 30, 34, 56n99, 83 Royal Commission into Ritualism, 17 S Sarum Rite, 28, 29, 73 Savoy Conference, 23, 101 Scottish Episcopal Church, 22, 28, 55n92 Selborne, Earl of (William Palmer), 82, 83 Sparrow Simpson, W.J., 17, 83 Strong, Thomas, 23, 28, 29, 96 Suffragettes, 32 T Temple, William, 32, 41, 73, 103, 105 Two Kingdom theology, 41, 42, 46 V Vestments, 17, 20–22, 31, 54n51, 75 W Wace, Henry, 25, 26, 29, 34 Winnington-Ingram, Arthur, 16, 34, 37–39, 82