Most historians of modern religion are bamboozled by subjects like finance and funding, and so steer a wide berth. Most economic historians have no interest in religion, assuming it is the prerogative of theology departments. And never the twain shall meet. Yet in this innovative monograph, Sarah Flew of the London School of Economics aims to ‘bridge the gulf’, bringing her expertise in accountancy and financial management to bear in analysis of Anglican home mission. Her bread and butter are the long subscription lists at the back of printed annual reports from diocesan societies, recording donations, legacies and collections – where other church historians quickly pass by, Dr Flew finds treasure.
The Church of England’s major financial institutions, like Queen Anne’s Bounty and the Ecclesiastical Commissioners, have already been the subject of substantial studies by Geoffrey Best (1964) and Andrew Chandler (2006), amongst others. Flew focuses instead on the diocese of London from the start of A.C. Tait’s episcopate in 1856 to the eve of the First World War in 1914, which was also the year that the Church of England overhauled its financial systems by creating diocesan boards of finance. By the mid-nineteenth century the funds of the Incorporated Church Building Society had dwindled, and parliamentary grants towards church extension had dried up altogether, so the burden of responsibility fell increasingly on individual dioceses. London led the way and its Metropolis Churches Fund (1836–54), supported by donations from the Anglican laity, built 78 churches with 106,000 extra sittings, schools for 20,000 children, and sent out 146 additional clergymen in the space of 18 years. But even this was a drop in the ocean, unable to keep pace with the exponential growth in the capital’s population. If the masses were to be evangelized, deeper pockets were needed.
During Tait’s episcopate a raft of new organizations was launched. The Islington Church Extension Society (1856), led by evangelical Daniel Wilson junior, aimed at nothing less than ten new churches for his burgeoning parish in only six years. The London Diocesan Home Mission (1857) employed clergy as missionaries for the slums. The Parochial Mission Women Association (1860) supported women in house-to-house visiting, under supervision of local incumbents, a ministry paralleled by the London Diocesan Deaconess Institution (1861) and the Ladies’ Diocesan Association (1864). They taught not only the Bible but also the virtues of thrift and cleanliness. But dominating the field was the Bishop of London’s Fund (1863) which gave grants to multiple Anglican causes including new churches, mission rooms, schools, rectories, additional curates and Scriptures readers. In half a century it raised £1.5 million and was lauded by Bishop Winnington-Ingram in 1907 as ‘the central war-chest of the Diocese’ (p. 29). Despite their many successes, these specialist Anglican concerns could not compete with the allure of interdenominational evangelical mission. The Bishop of London’s Fund raised £20,000 per annum, but was eclipsed by the London City Mission which raised more than double the amount.
In assessing their financial health, Flew demonstrates that the buoyancy of all these diocesan societies was determined by ‘the generosity of the Anglican laity’. She describes the mid-nineteenth century as ‘undoubtedly a great philanthropic age’ with the multiplication of collectivist charity unseen in previous generations (pp. 40-41). Her investigations reconstruct the identities of the major donors – aristocracy, landed gentry, clergy, bankers, businessmen – a ‘gallery of philanthropists’ no longer buried amongst the ‘anonymous mass’ of unknown subscribers (p. 102). What they held in common was a firm belief that supporting home mission with their money was a spiritual duty, an obligation upon landowners and employers to spread the Christian faith throughout the metropolis.
Flew’s analysis reveals a steady decline in donations towards the end of the century, which she interprets as a symptom of the shifting attitudes of the laity and blames on the fact that the Church of England had failed to educate them in the ethos of giving. Effective fundraising strategies were essential – such as regional associations, collecting boxes, annual sermons and prominent patrons – but underpinning all of these was theology. At the start of the period, Flew argues, the emphasis was upon Christian ‘stewardship’: all property belongs to God and human beings simply steward it on God’s behalf. Therefore, when donating to Anglican mission they were giving God’s money not their own. This theology often led to extravagant and spontaneous giving. By the 1860s it had been replaced, however, with an emphasis on systematic and proportional giving. The interdenominational Systematic Beneficence Society encouraged Christians to give a tenth of their income to the church as the basic minimum. The problem was that it led to an assumption that when you had given a tenth to God you had given enough and could spend the rest.
As fund-raising flagged, new secular techniques were adopted from the 1870s, focused on entertainment and social events in an attempt to persuade the Anglican laity to open their wallets. Charity bazaars, sales of work, concerts and recitals became popular, but were also a sign of financial desperation and loss of confidence. In place of stewardship and systematic giving, Anglicans now increasingly expected to receive something back in return for their donations. And the fund-raisers conspired with this theology. J.P. Foster’s Fancy Fair Religion (1888) assailed the new approach, complaining that Christians were now being exhorted not to support the church on principle but ‘enticed to do so through pleasure’ (p. 119). Almost all the Anglican organizations in Flew’s study were experiencing financial hardship by the start of the twentieth century. The passing of the Victorian age brought with it the ‘loss of the paternalists’ (p. 133), replaced by a new Anglican generation who had to be coaxed to give money to mission. She argues that this loss of financial obligation signals a deeper malaise, a loss of commitment to the Church of England itself. Religion had become a commodity, ‘just one more leisure product on the market’ (p. 140).
This stimulating study opens new avenues of enquiry for historians of the church, and is proof positive that the interdisciplinary gulf can be bridged. Sarah Flew successfully demonstrates that, for those with eyes to see, account books can be remarkably revealing.
