Introduction
In everyday speech the terms ‘high churchmanship’, ‘Tractarianism’, ‘Anglo-Catholicism’ and ‘ritualism’ are often used interchangeably. For the most part, too, ‘high church’ tends to be a multipurpose expression for theology, doctrine or worship which in some way tends towards perceived notions of Catholicism. The English ecclesiastical reforms which sought to revive ideals of Catholicism in Anglicanism, which had their beginnings in 1833 around the time of John Keble’s Assize Sermon, are today recognized by historians as being multifaceted waves of transformation each with specific priorities.Footnote 2 While they all generally trace their origins to the group of theologians who formed the Oxford Movement (the most famous of whom are John Newman, John Keble and Edward Pusey), these transformation movements sometimes did not accept all the theological tenets or assumptions of their founders. For that matter Keble, Pusey and Newman did not always view developments made in their names favourably.Footnote 3
Such later movements are related in varying ways to the theological underpinning which found voice in the ninety Tracts for the Times (written mostly by Newman, Pusey and Keble) – also known as Tractarianism – but are more directly a result of developments in Cambridge under the zealous guidance of John Mason Neale (1818–66). It was Neale’s enthusiasm for what he and his disciples called ‘ecclesiology’ which fuelled the imaginations of numerous clergy and laity, and which caused increasing friction within Victorian religious society. Thus, what started life primarily as a theological and doctrinal movement in Oxford quickly morphed into a set of reforms which envisioned their practical implications.Footnote 4 The adherents of this second wave of catholic renewal have often been named ‘Camdenites’ or ‘ritualists’.Footnote 5 Both terms probably emerged as pejorative slogans, but the ultimate long-term influence of the ritualists has knocked some of the tarnish from the negative nuances of these labels.
For the most part, ritualists were clergy and laity who valued the outward architecture, liturgy, ceremonial, vesture, decoration and music which characterized aspects of pre- and post-Tridentine Roman Catholicism. For them, to a greater or lesser degree, these features of the place and conduct of worship situated the church within the heritage of Catholicism, and thus aligned them with the theological direction of the Oxford Movement. However, the underlying Romantic stirrings, which found acceptance throughout Europe in the mid to late nineteenth century, also played a role in shaping this particular brand of Anglicanism. Thus, there was a varying degree of consistency in terms of the interpretation of the nature of catholic heritage. Was it the Early Church, the Church before the great schism of western and eastern Christianity, Medieval Catholicism, Orthodoxy or Tridentine Catholicism? For most ritualists it was Medieval Catholicism which was the ideal.
The story of South Africa’s contribution to Anglican ritualist worship patterns has not been documented in the latest publications on this topic. Nigel Yates, in his Anglican Ritualism in Victorian Britain 1830–1910, includes accounts from Australia, New Zealand and America, but not South Africa.Footnote 6 Steward Brown and Peter Nockles’s collection of essays The Oxford Movement: Europe and the Wider World 1830–1930 is also silent about developments in South Africa, except for a couple of isolated passing remarks.Footnote 7 Hollett’s Beating Against the Wind examines responses to Tractarianism and ritualism in Canada, and provides interesting material for comparison, but does not actually reference the situation in South Africa.Footnote 8 Two fascinating sources which do deal with South Africa directly are Hardwick’s An Anglican British World and Bremner’s Imperial Gothic.Footnote 9 However, neither author is specifically concerned with ritualism. Hardwick concentrates on the development of the Colonial Bishoprics Fund and with colonial forms of church; Bremner’s primary concern is architecture, specifically Anglican cathedrals in neo-Gothic style. This article seeks to begin filling the gap with a number of case studies and examples from colonial clergy and congregations. It proposes that there is evidence of a gradual development from the moderate ‘high church’ ideals of some of South Africa’s early colonial clergy, to the nuanced movements of ritualism (or perceived ritualism) which found traction in Southern Africa and which gradually shaped the local church’s attitudes towards worship.
For the sake of brevity, only ceremonial and the use of vestments are treated here, although architecture and liturgy may form the focus of later research. Additionally, the focus of this study is only on immigrant (colonial) congregations. The trajectory of missionary work, and the influence of different theological understandings of mission, requires separate, but necessary, attention. There are two reasons for this. First, mission congregations did not tend to share the colonists’ prejudices relating to the Reformation and Roman Catholicism. Thus, if mission congregations were introduced to Christianity by ritualist clergy, their understanding of the faith was deeply coloured by ritual from the start and their possible resistance to it, if there was any, would have been for different reasons. Secondly, in the Diocese of Natal (one of the dioceses covered by this study) the story of mission work is extremely complex because it relates directly to Bishop Colenso and the subsequent arguments over Zulu evangelization. Such complexity requires careful description and interpretation and cannot easily be accommodated within the required length of this article. Thus, to gain a fuller perspective of ritualism in Southern Africa, an examination of architecture, liturgy and mission work will need to supplement and elaborate what is presented here.
Why the need for such a study? Besides adding a local voice to the current research on this topic, the author tries to discover where the roots of a typical, contemporary, local understanding of Anglicanism reside. Among numerous bishops, clergy and older laity within the Anglican Church of Southern Africa, there is a strongly held belief that at its heart Anglicanism is a basically ritualist denomination.Footnote 10 Concomitantly, the revival of ‘correct’ ritual and of the English character of such ritual appears to be increasingly important. Under what circumstances and when did this characterization of Anglicanism develop? What follows is an initial answer to the question.
The evidence for this research is drawn mainly from local secular and church newspapers, the writings of a number of clergy and laity, and a couple of unpublished academic theses. In an attempt to situate the South African situation more clearly, concurrent developments in worldwide Anglicanism are sometimes referenced to gauge how advanced South African clergy were in terms of ritualist innovation.
The article begins where many ‘reformers’ themselves began: the introduction of minor ceremonial innovations within the limits of prayer book rubrics. An analysis of the early resistance to ritualism forms part of this section. The second part of the study focuses on two examples of more advanced ritualist practice, paying particular attention to ‘signs’ of medievalist ceremonial and vestment revivals.
A Bishop Sympathetic to Ritualists
The ‘English Church’ – as it was known in the Cape and Natal Colonies in the early nineteenth century – appears, for the most part, to have been a reflection of the dominant churchmanship in Britain during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Its first buildings were erected by public subscription,Footnote 11 and were designed along the lines of Calvinistic structures – rectangular, with whitewashed walls, plain-glass windows and little in the way of furnishings besides a pulpit, reading desk and communion table.Footnote 12 Pew rents determined congregational seating patterns along class lines.Footnote 13 Vestments tended to be simple: clergy wore a surplice for most of the service, but changed into a Genevan-style gown for preaching.Footnote 14 The music sung in one such parish was metrical Psalmody rather than the hymnody which was indicative of Methodist and Congregational worship of the time.Footnote 15 Such congregations also shared a strong desire to remain independent, content to function along congregational lines rather than under centralized Diocesan authority.Footnote 16
It was into this context that Robert Gray (1809–72), the newly appointed Bishop of Cape Town, arrived in the Cape Colony to take up residence in his diocese.Footnote 17 Historians agree that Gray was only a Tractarian sympathizer.Footnote 18 It is clear, however, that his inclinations were not towards the Reformed style which still dominated England and characterized South African Anglicanism before his arrival. Gray often consulted Samuel Wilberforce (1805–73),Footnote 19 then Bishop of Oxford, who was the unofficial leader in moderate High Church circles. ‘High Church’ in this sense describes those who value the three-fold ordained ministry, the apostolic succession, and the liturgy and sacraments of the church.Footnote 20 High Churchmen like Wilberforce did not agree with all the theological leanings of the Tractarians, and they seldom accepted the innovations of ritualists. They were ‘not pioneers, exploring and expanding the limits of acceptable belief and ceremonial, but they often sheltered those who were, and they were responsible for many of the most significant changes brought about in the course of the Church revival’.Footnote 21
It seems that Gray considered Wilberforce a mentor or, at the very least, a confidant. It is likely, then, that he too considered himself a moderate High Churchman. Indeed, such a description seems to embody Gray’s early ministry in South Africa. Consider his appointment of many like-minded and more overtly Tractarian and ritualist clergy over the period of his episcopate; James Green (1821–1906) being just one extreme example.Footnote 22 In terms of theology and liturgy he was not a trendsetter. For example, he remained a devotee of the Book of Common Prayer 1662, requiring his clergy to sign a declaration that they would ‘conform to the Liturgy of the United Church of England and Ireland, as it is now established’.Footnote 23 But he did introduce daily services to the Cathedral in Cape Town,Footnote 24 not an innovation as such, but certainly a mark of Tractarianism.Footnote 25 And yet, he can also be viewed as a pioneer of sorts: particularly in the sense that he had the foresight to found a church independent of the English establishment, and that he covered huge areas of geographical land to administer and expand Anglican work.Footnote 26 In the long run, then, Gray’s influence meant that the ideals of Tractarianism, and ritualism in particular, could begin to characterize Anglicanism throughout his metropolitical reach,Footnote 27 and because the church was not linked to government, ritual and doctrine were not a matter of the law in the South African context.Footnote 28
‘Popish’ Practices
The transition from a broadly Reformed character to a more ritualist one was not trouble free in South Africa. As in England, there were strong voices from the laity (and a few clergy) which protested against so-called ‘popish’ rituals,Footnote 29 or ‘Puseyisms’.Footnote 30
Whibley argues that the fear of liturgical innovation in South Africa was because of ‘a desperate effort to cling to the security of the Mother Church’.Footnote 31 Jeff Guy, speaking about the difficulties faced by the Bishop Colenso of Natal (1814–83), offers a slightly different view:
The initial quarrels between the Bishop and the laity were caused, in part at least, by anti-clerical feelings derived from religious and class antagonism which the colonists had experienced, directly or indirectly, when still in Britain. Their freedom from an established church and an episcopal hierarchy was threatened, they chose to argue, by the arrival of the Bishop of Natal.Footnote 32
As a result of the antagonisms, Colenso was accused of being a ‘high churchman’ even though he was not a Tractarian sympathizer (although he did commend the leaders of the initial movement for prompting people to think deeply about their faith),Footnote 33 nor a ritualist.Footnote 34 This incident and the ones discussed below demonstrate that ‘imposed’ religious authority from England was often characterized by the colonists as ‘possibly Tractarian, or even Puseyite and … dangerous to the … peace of the colony’.Footnote 35 While both Whibley and Guy may be correct, another possibility is that settlers were simply fearful of change and used the much discussed Romanist tendencies of some churchmen abroad as a convenient label for something new and ‘foreign’. The examples below give some idea of the tendencies or ‘rituals’ which were attacked.
Gray passionately advocated weekly offertories and the abolishing of pew rents; the one designed to help cover the costs of ending the other, although the official reason for eliminating pew rents was to encourage equality among congregants.Footnote 36 Colenso and Nathaniel Merriman (1809–82) agreed with Gray’s sentiments and were strong promoters of both practices, untiringly introducing them across what was to become the Dioceses of Cape Town, Grahamstown and Natal.Footnote 37 The new ideas were accepted without much fuss in some places (Merriman reported that Grahamstown had accepted both relatively quickly),Footnote 38 but in others they met with fierce resistance (particularly at Port Elizabeth, Uitenhage and Graaff-Reinet in the Cape and at Durban in Natal).Footnote 39
The offertory was obviously a contentious issue for colonists, because the South African Church Magazine in November 1851 decided to run an article by an anonymous author concerning the merits of the offertory. This is how it begins:
As the result of a very general enquiry, I believe that much of the opposition so irreligiously attempted, a few years back, in some of the parishes in England, to the weekly offertory, arose solely from worldly covetousness. Men too selfish to part with any portion of their worldly substance to their fellows’ need, or to God’s glory, thought to throw suspicion upon, and thus to hinder, the good example of those who would bring back the apostolic custom, plainly enjoined by St. Paul…Footnote 40
Was this an attempt to calm the growing antagonism to offertories in the new Diocese of Cape Town? It certainly seems to have been an attempt to situate the idea of the offertory in Scripture, and thus to appeal to the evangelically minded:
There appears now a growing conviction that weekly collections are not only most advisable, but also that the practice is one of the signs of reviving life and earnestness in the Church of Christ. Men are beginning to understand that it is a privilege to the pious heart to give to God… Many have thanked their ministers that they have afforded them stated opportunities of ‘honouring God with their substance…’Footnote 41
Here we see a link between the offertory and tithing, a theme which was developed extensively through the article, and perhaps another attempt at winning Evangelical hearts. But at no point does the author refer to offertories as a substitute for pew rents – perhaps wisely! The article does not seem to have paid much in the way of dividends, because opposition to the weekly offertory continued, as shall be demonstrated.
In his travels around the Eastern Cape, Merriman found that fear of anything remotely different, whether theological, liturgical or ceremonial, was dubbed ‘Romish’ or an influence of Dr Pusey. According to Merriman, kneeling for prayer was considered suspect in Uitenhage in the late 1840s.Footnote 42 Vestments also proved a point of contention. The wearing of a surplice in the pulpit had caused protests in Britain the 1840s, being labelled ‘the rag of popery’.Footnote 43 In the early 1850s Merriman’s wearing of a surplice earned him great scorn at a parish in which he occasionally presided as archdeacon.Footnote 44 Ironically, it was that same parish, St Mary’s in Port Elizabeth, which would later become a leading example of advanced ritualism.
A prolonged saga at St Paul’s in Durban between 1855 and 1857 was typical of this early wave of resistance. The uproar at this parish concerned the abolishing of pew rents, wearing of the surplice in the pulpit, offertories and conducting baptisms during the Sunday service. All of these innovations had initially been officially sanctioned by the bishop and duly instituted by the incumbent. However, members of the congregation took umbrage and staged several riots, considering the innovations ‘Popish or Tractarian’.Footnote 45
While it is true that all of these ‘innovations’ were championed by numerous Tractarian and ritualist clergy, they were not necessarily hallmarks of the movements.Footnote 46 Indeed, they were introduced in moderate and Evangelical parishes across England as the nineteenth century progressed. And yet, to colonists, they represented enough of a catholic intrusion to warrant numerous newspaper letters, legal disputes and quarrels with the new authorities of the diocese.
An unusual debate about the ‘Romanizing’ of the church arose in the Diocese of Grahamstown in 1867.Footnote 47 In May that year the Grahamstown Journal, a local biweekly newspaper, printed an open letter from the churchwardens, civil commissioner and other concerned citizens in Alice addressed to Bishop Cotterill (Bishop of Grahamstown, 1856–71) complaining about the Romanizing of the church. One could expect a letter which condemns a local clergyperson for introducing vestments or candles on the altar.Footnote 48 Instead the letter attacks unnamed parishes for introducing suspect furnishings and rituals such as ‘crosses, postures, and genuflections, the changing of garments and the gorgeous display of vestments, the intonation and monotones into which the service is rendered’.Footnote 49 It continues by lamenting how this state of affairs is undermining the work of the ‘Reformed’ church.Footnote 50 There was no complaint against the local Anglican rector, J.R. Wilson, and indeed no reference to the parish in Alice at all, except that it thoroughly disavowed itself from so-called ‘popish’ practices. In essence, the letter reflects the attitude of suspicion related to anything slightly Roman Catholic – the same suspicion which Merriman encountered so often in his travels around his archdeaconry and which Colenso had come against in Durban. Interestingly, however, the letter does not imply that the signatories had actually experienced any of these ‘Romish’ practices. Since the parishes are not named, they could refer to congregations in England rather than in South Africa which may disprove Whibley’s argument above – after all, if English parishes were being attacked in this letter, then the sentiment was not necessarily nostalgia for the Mother Church, but the Reformed Mother Church.
The initial letter was not the end of it. A week later the Bishop of Grahamstown replied in the same newspaper. Cotterill was an Evangelical who grudgingly tolerated the high church tendencies of a number of his clergy. In an ironic set of circumstances, he landed up drafting the local church’s constitution in 1870 which allowed Anglo-Catholicism to flower and flourish.Footnote 51 Yet, it is clear from the bishop’s response to the letter from Alice that while he worked closely with moderate high church and early ritualist clergy, he was uncomfortable with, and weary of, any doctrinal shifts which would undermine the reformed nature of the Church of England. He stopped short of condemning or even mentioning ritualist tendencies, probably because there were ritualist sympathizers in his own diocese.Footnote 52 His solution was a church not linked in any way to the state, and thus free to make its own laws and decisions. He felt that an independent church would be able to eliminate any ‘Romish’ doctrine.Footnote 53 How wrong he was. When the South African Anglican Church asserted its independence in 1870, the Province which Cotterill helped to create wholeheartedly embraced numerous Tractarian doctrines and much ritualism, as shall be demonstrated below. In fact, the independence of the church from the English state meant that clergy were free from being charged according to state litigation relating to both ritualism and liturgy. In essence, they were only answerable to their bishops, many of whom were ritualists themselves or at least sympathetic to their cause.
A further letter, published on 7 June, demolished the original signatories, questioning their motives and suggesting that they check their sources before making public statements about ‘Romanizing’.Footnote 54 The author, ‘True-Blue’, is scathing about the contribution the small Alice congregation had made to the wider diocese, and further questioned which Reformation they claimed to be part of: Henry VIII’s, Luther’s, Calvin’s, Wesley’s or John Knox’s?Footnote 55
While this was perhaps a minor spat in a relatively small local newspaper, the letters do show that there were communities deep into the 1860s which still harboured prejudices against any form of ritualism, whether through ceremonies, vestments or furnishings. Their reasons for this may have been nostalgia or a deep mistrust of Roman Catholics and a perception of their growing influence in English society, but by this stage it surely could not have been related to the imposition of episcopal authority (which had been in place in the area by that stage for 20 years); especially given that the local bishop actually agreed with the aggrieved signatories.
Another newspaper debate of interest was published in 1884, showing that concerns surrounding ritualism still periodically arose in South Africa despite the widespread acceptance of Tractarian theological perspectives and ritualist ceremonial. In December of that year, ‘A Broad Churchman’ wrote to the Church Chronicle, South Africa’s Anglican Provincial monthly newspaper: ‘It may be noticed in a few Churches, as well here as in England, that it is a custom for clergy and for some members of the congregation from time to time to make obeisance to the Lord’s Table – indeed each time the Church is crossed it is the habit of certain Clergy to bow towards the altar’.Footnote 56 The writer continues, claiming that: ‘The general argument in favour of the custom is this, viz.: “That bodily altar-worship is a means to promote and assist that of the mind!” [italics original]’.Footnote 57 According to the correspondent the idea that the altar can function as a mediatory means for Godward adoration is tantamount to image-worship.Footnote 58 Instead, he/she argues that worship be directed straight to God, removing the intermediary.Footnote 59 In essence, the letter seems to represent an understanding that God can be approached without appealing to any intermediary such as saints, relics and symbols.
The editors, themselves self-proclaimed proponents of ritual bowing to the altar, responded that they were ‘utterly at a loss to discover where our correspondent heard or found the “general argument”’.Footnote 60 They go on to claim that if bowing is concomitant with altar-worship, they too would reject the custom.Footnote 61 Instead they assert that this interpretation must be ‘puritan’ and that the correspondent’s view is narrow rather than that of ‘A Broad Churchman’.Footnote 62 Their defence of the custom revolves around its historical precedent. They argue that: bowing to the altar was a custom developed in the Early Church (although they do not provide any evidence to prove this); its use in England and Ireland before and after the Reformation was common; and it was commended in an English canon in 1640 not passed by parliament (ironically at a time when high church tendencies were sparking nationwide revolution in England).Footnote 63 While the response defends the historicity of the custom, it never supplies a convincing theological explanation as to why it still prevailed. The editors do, however, equate the practice with similar ceremonial in the secular world where soldiers salute at the hoisting of colours and peers bow before the throne in the British parliament. In other words, invisible power represented by a symbol.Footnote 64 Why defend the practice only by appealing to its antiquity and the secular world? Why not simply appeal to some biblical precedent, which, it could be tentatively claimed, provides theological backing, for example Psalm 94? Perhaps the Victorian penchant for historicism, already evident in much ritualistic revival, was the principal guiding motive for ceremonial. If this is so, such a defence more than demonstrates the overarching intentions behind revival (a word, interestingly, which is at the heart of the editors’ defence).Footnote 65 Yates is of the opinion that historicism (or antiquarianism, as he calls it) was a mainstay of the ritualists.Footnote 66
While the conflicts related to the ‘innovations’ discussed above were heated and in some cases quite prolonged, they centred on issues which today seem quite minor in significance. For the most part the furores about vestments, for example, focused on the surplice. By comparison, in the 1850s, in some very advanced ritualist parishes across the world, full Eucharistic vestments were slowly being introduced. Such innovations did not characterize churchmanship in South Africa at this point except for one isolated Pentecost Sunday in 1857.
On that particular Sunday, Revd John Lake Crompton (1815–89) celebrated the Eucharist in the newly consecrated parish church of Pinetown using full Eucharistic vestments.Footnote 67 Even in terms of the advanced parishes in England, this was ambitious, especially as they were worn without any prior permission or consent from the congregation. Crompton had been trained in several ritualist parishes in London. He immigrated to Natal in 1857 to improve his ailing health.Footnote 68 A colourful character, perhaps more aptly described as harmlessly mischievous, he managed to become notorious in Natal as a ritualist. One press article described him as ‘genus Rome – species Anglican’.Footnote 69 Colenso, on the advice of his chapter, refused Crompton’s application for a licence, but he was asked to officiate at Pinetown on Whitsunday 1857 because the parish minister was only in Deacon’s orders.Footnote 70 The press enjoyed the saga, relating the drama of the service as ‘Rome Unveiled’.Footnote 71 Letters of protest also flooded into Colenso’s office. One can imagine the flared tempers if surplices had caused offence elsewhere! This was an isolated event, but the ritualist tendencies of both Crompton and Green (mentioned above) would continue to develop with gradual intensity and with equally ferocious responses from the laity.Footnote 72
Two Extreme Examples of Ritualist Parishes
The examples above have covered a time period from the 1850s through to the mid-1880s. During that period of roughly 35 years, some parishes – led primarily by zealous clergy – overcame their initial reservations about ritualism and became increasingly adventurous. In 1870 the Church of the Province of South Africa became an independent branch of the Anglican Church. By declaring independence, it freed itself from state control in England and introduced its own constitution, an independent bench of bishops and a system of synodical government. The church remained part of the burgeoning Anglican Communion, but asserted its right to make its own decisions within the ambit of Anglican standards, including amendments or revisions to the Book of Common Prayer 1662. The independence of the local church allowed it to sidestep the legal implications of priests introducing ceremonial which was illegal in England and, if prosecuted, could carry jail sentences. As a result, although ritualism may still have been considered suspect in some places by the 1870s, if a bishop had given approval for certain innovations, there was technically no higher authority, such as the secular Privy Council, for appeal. Thus, ritualist clergy found a conducive environment in the new Province. From 1870 onwards, then, there was a greater impetus on the part of some clergy to develop stronger ritualist traditions. By the 1880s such parishes were already quite advanced in terms of ritualism, as will be demonstrated by the examples below.
Two parishes in the city of Port Elizabeth were centres of ritualist developments during the 1880s. These church communities were regular correspondents with the Provincial newspaper The Church Chronicle, in which they documented recent festivals, confirmations or ordinations. These accounts often reveal evidence of advanced ritualism together with a confident air of triumphalism, perhaps suggesting that the congregations were trying to prove a point about the value of ceremonial and correct decorum in terms of worship. The most astounding feature of one of these churches, St Mary’s, is that it had been described in the 1850s and 60s as a congregation where sentiments of anti-Catholicism were strong (concomitant with a strong dislike of anything which perhaps resembled Roman worship).Footnote 73 Unfortunately the existing contemporary sources do not give any indication of whether an older generation of evangelicals in the congregation had died out, or if they had slowly changed their minds about ritualism.Footnote 74
St Peter’s in Port Elizabeth by the early 1880s was experimenting with the most advanced ritualist ceremonies. A report in the February 1881 edition of The Church Chronicle reads as follows:
The ancient custom of singing the Greater Antiphons before and after the Magnificat during the week before Christmas was observed in this Church. On Christmas Day… to meet the feelings of weaker brethren, incense was not used at the 8 and 10 o’clock services. [At the 11 o’clock service] the choir, preceded by Thurifer, Incense boat and Cross bearers, properly vested, entered the Church singing the Adeste Fideles, which was heartily taken up by the congregation. All the music in this church (excepting hymns) is plain song, and one could not help contrasting the volume of praise then going up, to the sounds of ribaldry once heard, at this season, in days we hope never to return.Footnote 75
A year later the same newspaper reported:
A Confirmation was held by the Bishop on the evening of January 21… The Acolytes, properly vested in scarlet cassocks and albs, were first confirmed, then the choir men and boys, next men and women of the congregation. At this Church the Bishop sits near to and confirms at the Chancel steps, which is far more in accordance with the spirit of the Holy Rite than when he administers at the Altar rail… The very hearty way in which the congregation joined in the service speaks well for their appreciation of plan song [sic]…Footnote 76
Several important aspects of ritualist churchmanship are apparent in these two extracts. The first is the revival of an ancient liturgical practice (the Advent Greater Antiphons); the second is the use of incense; the third the vesting of the altar party; the fourth the use of plainsong.
The idea of historicism as an important foundation of ritualist worship is immediately evident in the first extract. Here, an ancient liturgical custom (the singing of the Advent Antiphons before and after the Magnificat seven days before Christmas), which had died out or been suppressed during the English Reformation, was revived at evening services. The Greater Antiphons had been included in Helmore and Neale’s Hymnal Noted in 1854 and formed part of the recovery of Latin liturgical hymnody.Footnote 77 Given the fact that St Peter’s was using plainsong, it is not unreasonable to conclude that they were familiar with, or even singing from, Helmore and Neale’s publications. The texts of these antiphons, or slight revisions of them, were to become increasingly popular, eventually being included in the South African revisions of the Book of Common Prayer in 1954 and 1989 respectively. Of interest is that the author felt the need to include mention of the antiphons in his/her report at all. Clearly such a revival was a novelty in South Africa, and its inclusion demonstrates the author is keen to show that the parish is an advanced example of ritualist worship – a badge of liturgical honour, perhaps.
The use of incense seems to have been a contentious issue in this congregation, even if the most popular services included it. The author suggests that those who did not appreciate incense, for whatever reason, were ‘weaker brethren’. In other words, those who have accepted ritualist practices are to be admired as advanced Christians. Since we do not have commentary from any of the disaffected worshippers, it is difficult to gauge why they objected to incense. Were they allergic to it? Were they concerned that it represented a movement towards Roman Catholicism? Or were they sceptical of its theological meaning? Returning to the author’s perspective, what prompted the need to defend the use of incense so strongly, belittling those who disliked it? There may have been tension surrounding this development, and while it seems that the majority were willing to tolerate it, some were unhappy enough to attend incense-free services. It seems that only a small percentage of parishes used incense in England at this time, as in the United States,Footnote 78 which suggests that St Peter’s was among the vanguard of ritualist Anglican churches in South Africa.Footnote 79
The third matter of interest is the vesting of the altar parties. In both extracts the author was careful to note that the ministers were ‘properly vested’. Here it seems likely that he/she was either trying to show that the parish was keeping up with the English ritualist agenda (‘we compare favourably’), or that the church is trying to set a local standard, showing the way for others (‘look at us, we get it right’). In fact, the author could espouse both attitudes. What is important to note in both extracts is that the reference to vesting is in connection with altar parties, as though their correct attire was of particular importance. Interestingly, the author makes no reference to the vestments of the clergy. This is rather odd. Why speak only of the laity when full Roman vestments would surely have been an aim in this context? Perhaps the clergy themselves had not yet introduced chasubles and maniples. In England in the early 1880s, the use of vestments, while slightly more popular than incense, was still relatively limited.Footnote 80 There had been the early pioneers such as St Saviour’s in Leeds, where vestments had been in use since 1848.Footnote 81 And at Leadenham some clerical vestments were being introduced as early as 1841–42.Footnote 82 Equally, in the United States, several parishes were buying chasubles in the 1860s.Footnote 83 So why not mention the priest’s vestments here? It is possible that the extracts were written by the priest at St Peter’s, and that, out of a sense of humility, he wished not to draw attention to himself. This would certainly be ironic, given that priestly vestments draw significant attention.
The revival of medieval plainsong was another of the historicisms of the ritualists, and it is clear from the extracts above that its presence at St Peter’s was a sign of the parish’s intention to be at the forefront of liturgical innovation. The extracts speak of congregational plainsong ‘excepting hymns’ which suggests that the responses and psalms were sung according to psalm tones, but that plainsong hymnody was not necessarily in vogue – a type of compromise where the austerity of an exclusively plainsong service was avoided. Pioneers in Anglo-Catholic music in England had already been experimenting with monotone chanting, psalm tones and Gregorian hymns in the 1840s and 50s, as had some parishes in the United States.Footnote 84 The apex of these experiments was Thomas Helmore’s Psalter Noted (1849),Footnote 85 followed closely by his Canticles Noted (1850),Footnote 86 and finally, and most influentially, his collaboration with John Mason Neale to create the Hymnal Noted (1851 and 1854). Also influential was the revival of Merbecke’s Common Prayer Noted (1550) in 1843 which was used as a prototype for congregational plainsong and which may have been used at St Peter’s. In essence, ritualists wanted to ensure that the congregation participated as fully as possible in the responses and hymns of the church. In their opinion, metrical psalmody was not conducive to lively participation; thus they sought to revive Latin hymnody (and later Greek hymnody too) as well as composing new poems for congregational use. Both Rainbow and Yates agree that the use of plainsong was deeply connected to ritualist worship,Footnote 87 and thus it received its fair share of negative press. In particular, St Mark’s College Chapel in London witnessed many a riot against its routine use of plainsong.Footnote 88 The writer of the extracts above does not mention any negative responses concerning plainsong at St Peter’s, but he/she does view the so-called musical ‘ribaldry’ of the recent past with scorn, hoping that it will never return. What was this ribaldry? Could it have been metrical psalmody? And why dismiss it with such disdain? Such attitudes of ritualist superiority did not endear parishes and their clergy to broader-minded Anglicans, and in so doing made life for themselves far more difficult than it need have been.
St Mary’s in Port Elizabeth was another ritualist church, although some decades earlier it had been one of the strongest opponents of ‘popery’. One example will suffice to demonstrate its churchmanship. The extract below describes aspects of a confirmation service at the parish on the Friday of Passion Week 1881.
It is almost unnecessary to add that during the service, His Lordship [the bishop] wore his Mitre, and that his Chaplain carried his Pastoral Staff, for no one ever expects now to see the Bishop exercising his office in Church without them… The prayers were intoned by the Rector… Since we last chronicled anything in connection with this Church, the Sanctuary has been completed, and to the handsome carved Reredos and hangings have now been added some costly tiles… On the super-altar are some large brass candlesticks… Altogether S. Mary’s is quite a different place from the very plain and somewhat dusty edifice of days gone by.Footnote 89
Several points of interest deserve commentary here. First, mention of the bishop’s vestments is significant. The phrase ‘no one ever expects now to see the Bishop exercising his office in Church without them’ seems to suggest (particularly with the word ‘now’) that the bishop did not always use the symbols of his office.Footnote 90 Did this signify that the Diocese of Grahamstown was becoming more amenable towards vestments, and by consequence ritualism? Certainly the bishop of the time, Nathaniel Merriman (earlier discussed in this paper when he was still an archdeacon), was a Tractarian sympathizer, but has not been characterized by his biographer as a ritualist. If he was amenable to such ritual developments, did he represent a class of clergy who had originally sided with the Tractarians and moved gradually towards sympathizing and agreeing with the later ritualists?Footnote 91 Clearly the author who witnessed the confirmation approved of this development.
A second sign of ritualism at St Mary’s was the intoning of prayers. As has been demonstrated above, any sign of sung services with monotones or plainsong pointed towards ritualist sympathies. What is not clear, though, is if plainsong was used regularly in the parish. None of the other vignettes from the parish mention plainsong, so from this historical distance it is difficult to determine what their regular routine was.
Finally, mention of the church furnishings are of importance. Notice that a reredos had been erected behind the altar, and that, directly below this, a super-altar – a ledge just above the altar proper on which a cross and candlesticks can be placed. While no mention is made of a cross, candlesticks do make an appearance. Additionally, ‘costly tiles’ (probably encaustic patterned tiles) and hangings form part of the decoration in the sanctuary. The author does not mention if there were candles in the candlesticks and if they were ever lit – a sore point in England at the time.Footnote 92 Another important, but subtle signifier of the ritualist nature of the parish is its designation as ‘S. Mary’s’. ‘S.’ as opposed to ‘St’ distinguished between the more catholic and broad styles of churchmanship and acted as a sign to potential worshippers of what type of church they were visiting.
Conclusions
This essay has presented aspects of the South African reception of Anglican ritualism between 1848 and 1884. Several conclusions can be drawn about the impact of ritualism in South Africa. First, in the early days of ‘imposed’ episcopacy any innovations which seemed to suggest some form of ‘popery’ were strongly opposed by sectors of the church. There are a number of possible reasons why such protests were lodged: a longing for the ‘Mother Church’; a resentment of imposed religious authority; or fear of change. Newspaper debates and the records of individual clergy and laity show that the road through these disputes was hard and at times heated. The main thrust of opposition in the early days seems to have been a deep conviction on the part of English settlers that Roman Catholics and their doctrine and rituals should be considered at best suspicious and at worst dangerous. It is difficult to pin-point why settlers may have felt this way. Was the type of lay person who tended to travel and work in the colony by nature conservative and Protestant-minded? Or was the influence of Calvinism, strong among the Dutch settlers, at play here? Without actual evidence, the answer to such a question remains elusive.
Equally important, though, is that Gray’s sympathetic stance towards Tractarianism and the legacy he left in an independent church prepared the context for the slowly flourishing ritualism in the 1880s. When the South African church declared its independence from the Church of England in 1870, ritualists found a new freedom to experiment. Because the church no longer fell under the jurisdiction of the English state, it was not subject to its laws concerning ceremonies and vestments. In essence, this freed local clergy to experiment without the fear of litigation or imprisonment. In South Africa, while there were still pockets of resistance against ritualism in the 1870s and 80s, the character of worship was already moving towards advanced ceremonial in some places. Thus, the independence of the church, as well as its sympathetic leanings towards ritualism, meant that South Africa became an appealing place for harassed English ritualists to consider as a new home.
Evidence from the early 1880s, presented in this paper, confirms that ritualism in its advanced stages was eagerly being practised in at least two parishes in the Diocese of Grahamstown: St Peter’s and St Mary’s in Port Elizabeth. However, there are several other examples from around the Province which matched these advancements. For example, St Saviour’s Cathedral, Pietermaritzburg (1870s and beyond into the twentieth century) and the Cathedral of St Michael and St George in Grahamstown (mid-1880s into the early twentieth century), not to mention numerous parishes in the Diocese of the Orange Free State.
Thus, the overall picture of South African Anglicanism by the early 1880s was that some congregations at least tolerated and possibly even began to encourage advances in ritualist technique and experimentation. This, then, is probably when the local characterization of Anglicanism as ‘high church’ began to emerge.
