Characterization of clergymen in eighteenth-century English novels and religious representation

Adams, Primrose and Yorick: A Comparison of 18th Century Church of England Clergymen

One of the clearest features shared by Fielding's Adams in Joseph Andrews, Goldsmith's Primrose in The Vicar of Wakefield, and Sterne's Yorick in A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy is relentlessness that the characters demonstrate, as though by sheer force of will they may manage affairs to a happy conclusion. In spite of their sometimes obtuse qualities, their evident pride in themselves, their naivete, their innocence, their ability to bungle their way into all manner of episodic conundrums, their resolute good humor through it all ensures the reader that whatever grace they do possess will be sufficient to make all well by the end of the narrative. Such is true of all three clergymen, and to the extent that all three clergymen represent the pastors of the Church of England in the 18th century, one could surmise that the preachers of English Protestantism were a well-meaning, if not somewhat aloof and self-absorbed, lot. This paper will compare the characterization of Adams, Primrose and Yorick and consider how realistically they represent Church of England clergymen from the time period of 1730 to 1780.

By the 18th century, England had metamorphosed from an entirely Roman Catholic country, as it had been a quarter of a millennium earlier. In 1701 the Act of Settlement held that the English monarch must be a Protestant. And wars against the Catholic Spanish monarchy continued (Roberts 4). England's identity as a Protestant, with its king as head of the Church of England, was secured. In 1727, King George II ascended the throne, second monarch of the House of Hanover (whose dynasty would last for nearly 200 years). And thirteen years later the now famous "Rule, Britannia!" would be penned by James Thomson and scored by Thomas Arne (Fuld 477). The British identity from this point on would be fused with a righteous spirit of fight, mastery, pride, self-determination, glory, and unwavering ability. It would be complete, relying on no foreign bodies (such as the Roman authorities in religious matters), its ships would rule the waves, and its colonies would be a source of wealth. England viewed itself as refined, mannerly, educated, moral, and absolute -- and all of this would be imbibed and projected by the Church of England clergy during this time.

Ironically, the writers Fielding, Goldsmith and Sterne do not take as sterling a view of the Church of England clergy as the clergy themselves were likely wont to take. While these authors do not come out and condemn straight off the antics, demeanor, character, or activities of this class, they do take the opportunity to playfully rib, satirize, and spoof the "fine" gentility of these often country parish types who are so confident in their sense of what is going on, knowing right from wrong, and always finding the right way forward, that when the utterly fail to recognize what is right before their faces they afford great amusement for the reader.

Goldsmith's Rev. Primrose is a family man: he is the happily married father of grown children (though they are not quite so matured that they know to avoid the pitfalls of false love, etc. -- issues the Primrose will have to deal with before the novel's conclusion). Yet, Primrose is also an ironic character -- in much the same way that Yorick and Adams are: they are educated, do understand the Protestant ethos, and are concerned about their duties as preachers, but they so often fail to do the right thing when it comes to their own persons and actual sphere of influence. It is as though they spend all their time in their own heads -- like Jane Austen's Mr. Collins -- and are unable to process the real world directly. This is the main problem of Primrose, as his name suggests (he is prim and proper and delicate like a rose -- but of course a father figure and leader of a parish needs to be of sterner, stronger stuff in order to lead, make good decisions, and provide a solid example). Primrose is not made of such stuff. While his Christian name is rather masculine -- Charles -- and he is noted to be a doctor, his surname betrays the nature of his true character -- he is prim and rosy and, by his own self-assessment, an "honest man" (Goldsmith 9).

Primrose is somewhat unreliable as a narrator too (Nuning 236). That Primrose is unintentionally ironic makes his character all the more enjoyable for the reader, who is meant to delight in the absurdities of Primrose (who fails to see how absurd he actually is). For instance, in the opening of the novel, as he is describing his hearth, over which he has hung an epitaph for his wife (who is still living) in order to remind her daily of her duties, the reader should immediately sense that Primrose has much of the fool in him (Goldsmith 13). His sheer total obliviousness with which he condescends to his wife should give the reader no end of amusement, especially if he or she is already inclined to acerbic comedy. Likewise, the way in which he describes choosing a wife is analogous to the way in which a woman chooses a dress or a breeder chooses a horse: there is little sense of the human about it.

This lack of human sense is what drives all three of these clergymen, in fact. With Primrose the problem is that he is not exactly what he himself thinks he is: he is the head of a family, true, but he has not really raised his children (his son he has sent away to school and his daughter is completely empty-headed, as evidenced by her foolish fall from grace -- her seduction -- which could have been prevented had either of her parents been a little more aware of what was transpiring before their very eyes or had any inclination to correct her of her own mistaken belief of being "educated"). Even still, with Primrose, Goldsmith does not wish to entirely skewer him, for in 18th century England, there is still a great deal of respect to be had for the idea of the clergy, even if the reality is far from ideal. Thus, as Zomchick notes, Primrose does not attain the heights of wisdom and leadership that he professes to possess in himself because doing so would be an act of "transgressing the texts sentimental presuppositions and destroying the harmonious domestic idyll that the narrative struggles to maintain" (169). In other words, Goldsmith himself is reluctant to push Primrose all the way down the path of absurdity and thoroughly skewer him upon his own petard of arrogance and smug self-righteousness. Goldsmith backs off just enough to make his satire gentle, his overall orientation still loving and warm. He wants Primrose to have a happy ending and does not portray him in a manner that is meant to totally satirize all the Church of England clergy.

The same can be said of Sterne's Yorick in A Sentimental Journey. Yorick is an unmistakable throwback to one of Shakespeare's most famous characters (who is, ironically, never seen on stage -- only spoken of -- with, perhaps, his skull held up for view). This is, of course, a reference to Yorick, the dead court jester, whose grave is dug up by the gravediggers in Act 5, scene 1, of Hamlet so as to make room for the dead Ophelia. Hamlet grieves for himself and for the passing of time as well as for Yorick: "Alas, porr Yorick! I knew him, Horatio!" (Shakespeare, 5:1). The name Yorick brings up such a flood of emotions and memories and ideas that in naming his clergyman after Shakespeare's dead court jester, Sterne is utilizing the ironic juxtaposition presented by the name to provide the reader with both humor (satire) and gravitas. This orientation is even commented upon by Yorick himself when in Paris he seeks a passport and is immediately granted one because he himself is mistaken as a member of the Court. Sterne's Yorick is both self-aware and yet also oblivious. He is so entrenched in his own Protestant ideology that when the Catholic monk comes begging in Yorick's chambers, the minister's recalcitrant Protestantism virtually erupts and he treats the poor monk to a strong dose of verbal combat, suggesting that the monk should pick himself up by his bootstraps and look after his own affairs instead of going begging from door to door and attempting to take from others what they themselves have worked hard to obtain. Yorick completely fails to understand the monk, his reliance upon Providence, or even the concept the Christian charity: instead, Yorick's staunch Britishness emerges -- the pride of being British, of being a part of a great, independent country, of having achieved a degree of learning and an opportunity for extended leisure based on his own hard work and the fruits of his own merits. Yorick is clearly proud of his own accomplishments and flaunts this before the begging monk before sending him away empty-handed.

Yet, Yorick is not without compassion and the ability to critically analyze his own actions. This puts him in line both with Primrose and Adams in Joseph Andrews. As soon as the monk leaves, Yorick becomes aware that he has unjustly treated him. His Christian character emerges from under the English Protestant veneer, and he later meets the monk again and exchanges gifts with him in an act of appreciation (they try one another's snuff). There is in this exchange a sign of respect not only on Yorick's part for the monk, but also on Sterne's part for Yorick. Yorick may offer moments of humor for the reader, but the character -- as with Shakespeare's Yorick -- represents more than just a vehicle for satire. The human condition is evident here as well (though manner in which pride overrules reason, regret quickly mounts, and feeling drives action). The sentimentality displayed by Primrose is here matched to a large degree by Yorick. At the same time, the respect afforded the characters and the humanness enveloped in their sentimental approach to life, provides the reader with some rich, humorous moments that are quite funny because they are true: the fact that both monk and minister carry snuff boxes, for instance, is a joke that reveals the both the peculiarities of society at that time and the thread of sameness that stretches from one to another. Though both monk and minister are of different lands and religions, they both share a fondness for snuff -- and that is a human connection and human touch in the characterization of both (but especially of Yorick -- who is the main focus of the text). Thus, Sterne gives the reader the same gentle dose of satire that Goldsmith gives but does not take it to the kind of extreme that a writer like Swift would.

The point of characterizing the Church of England clergy in this manner can best be understood by considering the light of the times in which these characters were written. The Enlightenment was underway and the Romantic Era had not yet begun. England was playing a pivotal role in world history by taking power on the seas and in politics. Questions of science and philosophy were deemed to be of a highly important order and learned men were often expounding upon them. To be able to talk at length was to show one's awareness, intellect, and education. As both Yorick and Primrose describe their own tales, they follow in this vein of Enlightenment: they give a great deal of time to their own thoughts and actions, setting themselves up for scrutiny while attempting to maintain a degree of simplicity and respect for intelligent discourse. The humor that comes from interaction with their texts is supplied by the authors' usage of the unintentional irony mechanism. Twain would do the same thing with Huck Finn, giving the reader an innocent boy who often did right even though he thought he did wrong (according to society's standards). The opposite is true for the clergy characterized by Goldsmith, Sterne and Fielding. They typically think they are doing right when they are actually acting foolishly. This serves as subtle commentary on the clergy of the Church of England -- a literary jab at the importance of humility, especially for a man of the cloth.

Fielding's Adams in Joseph Andrews is different from the other two clergymen in the sense that he does not tell his own story. That is, the perspective of Adams that the reader is given is from the third person perspective rather than from the first person. Thus, Adams is presented not through his own eyes (and whatever bias attends those eyes) but rather through the eyes of the narrator of the tale. However, Fielding lets the reader know that Adams is essentially the same type of clergyman as Primrose and Yorick -- an educated man who is decent and virtuous at heart but who is still completely ignorant of reality (which causes no end of trouble):

Mr. Abraham Adams was an excellent scholar. He was a perfect master of the Greek and Latin languages; to which he added a great share of knowledge in the Oriental tongues; and could read and translate French, Italian, and Spanish. He had applied many years to the most severe study, and had treasured up a fund of learning rarely to be met with in a university. He was, besides, a man of good sense, good parts, and good nature; but was at the same time as entirely ignorant of the ways of this world as an infant just entered into it could possibly be (Fielding 19)

Adams' naivete is not implied through subtle tricks of language as is the case with Goldsmith's characterization of Primrose, but rather explicitly stated. The minister, for all his education, still has no real sense of what it means to be human. He has learned the languages of other civilizations but never really participated in the human experience. The point that Fielding is making by throwing Adams out into the wild, so to speak, is that the Church of England clergy must not so separate themselves from the people of the world that they lose touch with what humans actually do, think, say, and behave. This type of real world education is just as important and critical to their job as the ability to read Scripture in multiple languages or to read the philosophers in their own words. Relating to people and understanding the workings of the mind, body and soul are necessities for a pastor charged with looking after the sheep. For the Protestant clergy, this reminder is particularly important since they had essentially cut themselves off from the traditions of the Roman Church, which still placed its orders in the way of real life (as in the case of the monk, for instance, whom Sterne's minister initially rebuffs).

Adams' intention to sell copies of his sermons is indicative of his good nature: he wants to make a positive impact on others -- but as he quickly discovers, he is not the first minister to set out on a mission to sell sermons in the marketplace. Adams ends up leaving his behind in a moment that appears to suggest the need for the minister to learn the language of human discourse, of human suffering, pain, privation -- of the life of the emotions, the psychology of desperation, and the clamor of the flesh -- before he can really, effectively and truly begin to communicate with the sheep he intends to reach. Thus, Fielding shows that his clergyman is in need of real world education -- and that is what the author supplies him, in a characteristic that is very much in the vein of what Cervantes does for his gentleman scholar Don Quixote. Both Quixote and Adams are similar, in fact, in the sense that they have lived entirely in books and set off into the real world in order to transpose what they have learned in books on the rest of the world -- even though it does not always fit. What Cervantes and Fielding suggest is that the truly educated person must take into consideration all types of learning, not just what comes from pages of text but also that which comes from human experience. Adams goes off with Joseph on a Quixotic-like adventure. He comes to know himself a little better, as does Quixote. Sterne's Yorick also comes to examine himself more fully through the course of his journey -- and Goldsmith's Primrose, if not awakened to his own foolishness, at least comes adopt a more humble tone through his misadventures and various experiences.

Fielding also seems to suggest, along with Goldsmith and Sterne, that the Church of England clergy are too sequestered from the rest of society. In a sense they have been too gentrified. They keep to their country parishes and separate themselves from what goes on in the towns and cities and foreign places because to them these places and people have nothing to do with their flock. The reality, of course, is that they do have very much to do with their flock. As Goldsmith shows, Primrose's family is impacted by events and characters that happen and come from outside his parish life existence. He cannot live in a bubble, in other words -- and Sterne's Yorick leaves his bubbled existence in order to travel through France and Italy (and yet he attempts to maintain his bubbled existence by viewing his travels sentimentally and through the eyes of his English Protestantism, instead of dropping the veneer and engaging with his fellow Europeans in a human way). Yorick does overcome his Britishness on occasion, just as Primrose overcomes his own ignorance and folly, and so too with Adams. But these authors all appear to suggest that the Church of England clergy are in need of a reminder regarding their role in society and in the world. Their attitudes are benevolent for the most part and their characters are good at heart -- but what they require is an education derived from experience -- from real world interaction with real world people. And that is exactly what their authors give them.

In conclusion, Goldsmith's Primrose, Sterne's Yorick, and Fielding's Adams are three Church of England clergymen who represent 18th century qualities that the English clergy were known to possess. Just as Chaucer depicted the Catholic clergy in a wide range of manners and mannerisms in The Canterbury Tales, these authors show some of the aspects of the English Protestant clergy that made them popular: they were exceptionally well-read, learned and scholarly in terms of possessing book smarts. Yet, as the authors point out, their experience in human matters, in what it means quite simply to be a human living in an age of change (the world was undergoing a radical transformation from a once Catholic Europe to a now fractured and splintered multi-religious network of nations). England herself was changing and becoming a mighty European power (soon it would be contending with the Napoleonic armies). English pride was a very real thing, and these clergymen represent that pride. They also represent some of the ignorance and innocence that such persons, who separate themselves from the rest of humanity, typically embody. By thrusting their characters into real world scenarios, Goldsmith, Sterne and Fielding take the Church of England clergy out of their insulated comfort zones and expose them to actual humanity.

Works Cited

Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. UK: Dover, 1995. Print.

Fielding, Henry. Joseph Andrews. Oxford PDF.

Fuld, James. The Book of World-Famous Music: Classical, Popular and Folk. NY:

Dover, 2000.

Goldsmith, Oliver. The Vicar of Wakefield. Oxford PDF.

Nunning, Vera. "Unreliable narration and the historical variability of values and norms:

the Vicar of Wakefield as a test case of a cultural-historical narratology." Style, vol. 38, no. 2 (2004): 236-252.

Roberts, Clayton. A History of England. UK: Prentice Hall, 2014.

Shakespeare, William. Hamlet. Web. http://shakespeare.mit.edu/hamlet/hamlet.5.1.html

Sterne, Laurence. A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy. PDF.

Zomchick, John. Family and the Law in Eighteenth-Century Fiction. UK: Cambridge

University Press, 1993. Print.