Common Sense

In the 18th century the fortunes of the city of York, along with its Minster and clergy, were enjoying a rise in both wealth and status. This led to the creation of prestigious new buildings, sweeping away some of the more mundane Medieval dwellings. This was a time when the buildings surrounding York Minster began to change with dramatic effect. Demolishing – and in some degree, incorporating – 15th century cottages to the north-east of the cathedral, Dr William Ward built himself a fine Georgian townhouse (pictured). He was the chief legal officer (‘commissar’) for the Dean and Chapter of York, a role which brought many pecuniary benefits. The new house was a fitting expression of his wealth and status.

The role of ‘commissary’ brought both influence and financial reward. There is every indication that Ward used his position to become wealthy and further the ambitions of his family. His daughter, Sarah, married a baronet and become Lady Fagg. While little is known about Ward, like many gentleman of his era, we know that he had a significant personal library. This is indicated by an Item in the late lawyer’s Last Will and Testament in which he bequeathed to his wife and daughter, ‘Forty English Books each such as they shall chuse out of my Library excepting the large Bible’. Perhaps foreseeing that this could lead to some dispute over which books each should have, Ward adds: ‘my wife to have the first choice’. In all likelihood the large bible would have passed to his son.

The wealth of legal officer such as Ward was built on a considerable degree of misery. Misery, that is, for the poor souls who came before the ecclesiastical courts. The leading Sterne scholar Arthur H. Cash described these courts as:

‘weak remnants of what had once been a terrifying Protestant inquisition’

Cash, A. H. (1971). Sterne as a Judge in the Spiritual Courts: The Groundwork of A Political Romance. In English Writers of the Eighteenth Century (pp. 17-36). Columbia University Press.

The main purpose of these courts was to deter pregnancy outside wedlock. It often led to both fines and public humiliation. It is hard for us to understand the level of pastoral disregard and cruelty which this system could produce. For example, Cash cites an incident where Robert Milburn was tried in 1753 in the village of Alne, just north of York, for antenuptial fornication ‘with Jane his wife, now dead’. It is little wonder that these courts were abolished or that clergy came to have a very mixed reputation through their enthusiasm to become judges. It provides some insight about how Lawrence Sterne came to be so familiar with a range of conduct and human emotion. Perhaps the perceived bawdiness of Tristram Shandy owes something to the process of examining cases that were brought to the courts by church wardens. In addition to his responsibilities as a parson, as the son of an army officer; a sometime farmer; and a judge in the courts, Sterne must have heard and seen a wide spectrum of life. Additionally, as a frequent visitor to nearby York, he was also connected to middle class mores and cosmopolitan life.

Perhaps William Ward’s main claim to fame is that his death precipitated a decade long dispute between the Dean of York and the Archbishop’s chief legal officer. It was a disagreement concerning the many legal roles which Ward had occupied and how these were to be inherited on his death. The Archbishop’s legal officer believed that the Dean had promised them to him, a promise on which he claimed the Dean reneged. Finally, after heated public exchanges between these two worthies, the situation provoked Laurence Sterne to publish his first significant literary work – a satire on the dispute entitled ‘A Political Romance’ or, as it is often known, ‘The History of a Good Warm Watch-Coat’. It was so accurate and effective that the Archbishop of York instructed all copies to be returned and the entire stock to be burned. Thankfully, at least six people either didn’t get the memo, or they decided not comply with the instruction.

Which brings me to common sense. Looking back it is easy to name the intolerable cruelties of another ago, or of a different place and people. In the style of Jonathan Swift, Sterne brings to the dispute a creative reframing that allows people to see their conduct in a different light. What may have appeared to be an obvious and inevitable response, suddenly becomes more complex and questionable. Creative writing invited the reader to wonder about the behaviour of those involved and the apparent inevitability of the dispute that unfolded. In many ways Sterne was an actor within events that seemed natural and necessary – and in the end he inherited some of Dr Ward’s legal responsibilities. However, he was also able to see beyond the near horizon of common sense and question the relationships and conduct which were doing little to promote the reputation of the church. Common sense in one age can appear as outrageously cruel in another – and I hope that in her new role of ‘minister for common sense’ Esther McVey will recognise the provisionality of her brief. The common sense of one group in society may be seen very differently by another group. Unless handled with the greatest of care, common sense can conserve and perpetuate some of our worst practices and behaviours.

  • The illustration of Dr Ward’s house, Chapter Yard, York, is by Allan T Adams BA FRSA FSAI

Satire in Disguise

The statement that ‘the parish system began to break down’ sounds like a commentary on the C of E in the 21st century. In fact they are words written about the church in the 18th century, taken from an article concerning religion and satire, by Misty G Anderson. It is a salutary reminder that the Church of England has experienced several phases of breakdown since the reformations of the 16th century. Anderson identifies satire as one of the most effective ways in which a highly privileged institution could be critiqued in public. This is because satire never makes things explicit, but relies on the audience’s existing awareness of the gaps between official rhetoric and the reality of practice.

‘Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise’

William Lisle Bowles, Alexander Pope (1820). “A reply to an “Unsentimental sort of critic,”: the reviewer of “Spence’s Anecdotes” in the Quarterly review for October [i.e. July] 1820; otherwise to a certain critic and grocer, the family of the Bowleses!!”, p.15

Satire always treads a fine line in achieving its effect. William Hogarth was warned that one of his prints risked being seen as an attack on religion itself – rather than the excesses of people’s interpretation. The definition of satire is far from easy or clear. On the whole it describes an artistic form which is intended to portray human behaviour in a humorous light, in order to make a political point or amusingly imply that a purported behaviour or action is susceptible to other (less attractive or virtuous) interpretations. Hence satire has often engaged with religions and religious practices to query the motives involved or the disparity between piety and more dubious practices. Many years ago I scripted a weekly cartoon that ran for a couple of terms at the theological college I attended. It was one way in which the weight and seriousness of ordination training was presented in a playful and creative light. It was quite popular.

Andix the Ordinand’ appeared as a six frame weekly cartoon for a couple of terms at Westcott House – recounting the adventures of the Scandinavian student and often satirised College customs and practices. Drawing by the John Brown.

Sadly, the C of E now appears to be so peripheral to much of society that it is seldom the subject for satire. As Gore Vidal observed, satire only works if you know the thing being satirised. Possibly due to the influence of the excellent Ian Hislop, Private Eye continues to identify some of the absurdities and failings of contemporary religion – but I imagine that the amount of print given to this has shrunk in recent decades. Indeed, more recently it has felt that the institution is satirising itself. In the last few weeks a message appeared from the Church of England’s main ‘X’ account heralding the opportunity to order a ‘new Christmas Advent calendar’. For a church where so many leaders try to maintain the distinctiveness of the Advent season this was a startling home-goal. The serious themes of hope, peace, love and joy surely deserve their own space for reflection and action this coming Advent?

A Sleepy Congregation by Thomas Rowlandson is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

There is, of course, the risk that satire is misunderstood or taken to be factual. In the past this has led the Church of England to publish a clarification. However, at its best, satire teeters on the edge of credulity precisely in order to accomplish its task. We see something – or read something – and need to take a second look. Could that be true? In this way satire has prophetic qualities, pushing an argument or behaviour one stage further and, suggesting that what may now be humorous, could soon become a reality. Perhaps a Church of England that surrenders its presentation entirely to generic marketing would start conflating festivals and shape the church’s life to follow without critical or theological enquiry whatever sells?

A healthy church should encourage the satirists. It doesn’t help if people are too holy to be human or so caught up in self-importance that they fail to understand how marginal (or non-existent) the Church is to so many people in England. Satire is the humour which is perhaps more than any other, ‘of the moment’. It only works, if it works at all, because it touches on the conceits and follies of a particular time. For example, who can listen to the UK-Covid-19 Inquiry enquiry and not feel that people living and working in Number 10 must have known the vast gulf that existed between their public statements and what went on behind closed doors? Clearly some did. When executed well, satire may help steer the church and the world into more authentic territory – and make us smile and wince in equal measure.

‘You can’t make up anything any more. The world itself is a satire. All you are doing is recording it’


Art Buchvald