Well, sort of.
The name John Davenant was not exactly unheard of twenty years ago. Banner of Truth had reprinted his commentary on Colossians. But even still, his name was not a household name for North American Reformed Christians. And often, when he was brought up, he was spoken of with lots of qualifications and warnings. He might not be fully trustworthy.
In more recent years, however, things have changed. Many more books studying Davenant’s life and thought have come out, and the Davenant Institute even bears his name.
The British Delegation at Dort
Some, though by no means all of this, story goes back to my time in seminary. I would regularly spend my Saturdays browsing the shelves of the library and pulling down any title that caught my eye. One day in 2007, I noticed a book titled The British Delegation and the Synod of Dort. The author, Anthony Milton, looked impressive enough, but I had never heard of him. The book had only been released two years prior. And I didn’t even know that Dort involved British delegates.
Upon first glance, I saw that one of the primary figures was John Davenant. I had encountered his name a few times, usually described as a theologian who represented an alternative to “Calvinism.” But this book seemed to suggest that Davenant was a Calvinist, or at least a Dortian! My interest was captured.
I did not fully know what I had in Milton’s book. At the time, I was focused on internal Reformed topics, especially those ideas that North American Presbyterians cared about. I was not yet acquainted with a notion of Reformation Anglicanism. (And I wouldn’t really get much more acquaintance for another fifteen years…).
But Milton’s work is about much more than intramural Reformed debates. He illuminates the social, political, and theological context of the famous Synod of Dort, especially as it was understood from England. Milton also includes fresh translations of several primary sources, the most important of which is The Collegiat Suffrage, the distinctive interpretation and commentary on the conclusions of the Synod of Dort by the British theologians. Additionally, Milton’s work contains interesting insights into the role of the apocrypha, the varying perspectives on common grace and the extent of the atonement, Reformed opinions about the Lutheran churches, and the place of the Church of England in the broader international Reformed world of the 17th century.
Who were the delegates?
Who were the British delegates whom King James sent to the Synod of Dort? The first roster was made up of these men: the newly consecrated bishop George Carleton; Joseph Hall, who was the dean of Worcester at the time and internationally-renown; John Davenant, the Lady Margaret professor of Divinity at Cambridge; Davenant’s friend Samuel Ward, also a famous doctor of divinity; and finally, the Scotsman, Walter Belcanqual. Due to a bout of ill health, Joseph Hall would have to leave Dort before its most decisive moments. He was replaced by Thomas Goade, a former chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who arrived at Dort in time for the 62nd session (Milton, 148).
Milton points out certain men who were not sent, especially Lancelot Andrewes and John Overall (xxviii). Perhaps these men were too old for the travel and debate, but William Laud was also not selected. Neither was George Montagu. Milton also notes that the Arminian controversy was alive and well in England at the time, thanks in part to the presence of the work of Hugo Grotius (55). The selection of the delegates is therefore telling. King James chose men who would assuredly oppose the Arminians (xxviii, 56).
The role of King James was another surprise to me in reading this book. Whatever his own personal piety may have been, what’s clear is that James was deeply invested in the theological debates of the time and that he considered himself to be Reformed. He viewed the Arminians as the primary source of trouble, and after it was clear that the matter could not be settled simply by prohibiting all discussion of the controversy, James encouraged an assembly and lent it a sort of international legitimacy by sending his delegates (7).
Theological Differences
The most significant theological material in The British Delegation and the Synod of Dort is found in the internal debates between the theologians at Dort, especially those points of division between the British and the others. Milton shows this by reproducing several private letters, select theological treatises, and then, finally, the Collegiat Suffrage of the British Divines, which is a thorough commentary on the Five Articles of Dort from the British perspective. Of the various issues discussed, the most prominent is the question of the extent of the saving work of Christ. The two men whose views created a bit of controversy were John Davenant and Samuel Ward. Bishop Carleton describes the situation like this:
When we were to give up our Sentence to the second Article, having first thought of certain Theses, we parted out labour, so that each one had his part of the Theses to confirm. When all was conferred together, it was found that Dr. Davenant and Dr. Ward had proceeded so far in declaring their parts, that the rest could not follow them… (201)
What was the issue that caused this division? “They held that the Redemption of Christ, and the Grace thereof was general to all without exception…” Bishop Carleton then notes that he did not see how this stood in opposition to the Arminian position. In fact, he claims that Davenant and Ward agreed that it did not differ and that the Arminian position should be granted on this point. Carleton adds, “Whether the Grace of Redemption is general to all men in the World without exception; or to be Restrained only to the Church? I know there be some Bishops in England that are of opinion that it is general without exception to all men, but I never thought that their Opinions where the Doctrine of the Church of England” (201).
And so it would appear that the famous “L” of the TULIP really was a point of division at the time of the Synod of Dort. Perhaps more surprisingly, the senior authorities among the British were surprised to learn that two of their number held that the grace of Christ’s redemption should be understood as “general to all without exception.” Bishop Carleton was the highest ranking among the British delegates, and he wrote with his concerns to Sir Dudley Carleton, his cousin and the ambassador to the Netherlands, and to Archbishop George Abbot. These letters reveal that all three men were initially taken aback by Ward and Davenant’s views and presumed that a more restricted view of grace was the normative one for English theologians.
This miniature controversy is actually quite complex. It was not as simple as “limited atonement” in the sense we often speak today. Neither was it merely a debate over “common grace.” The arguments affected the availability of saving grace to all, the universal offer of the gospel message, and the appropriate use of scholastic distinctions and terminology. Davenant would write a treatise on this topic, and the details would also make it into the Collegiat Suffrage.
Fascinatingly, it is the bishops involved in these exchanges who are the more “Calvinistic.” In common with the Dutch Anti-Remonstrants, they hold to the stricter position. Equally fascinating is the eventual outcome. The entire British Delegation eventually unified around a position that, while perhaps slightly modified, was still recognizably that of Ward or Davenant, the so called “moderate” expression. This is, no doubt, a testimony to the technical and historic rigor of those two scholars.
Another rather important influence, though, was the command from King James himself:
That before the Synodical resolution concerning Christ’s death, and the application of it to us, we stand upon it, to have those conclusions couched, in manner, and terms, as near as possibly may be, to those which were used in the Primitive Church by the Fathers of that time against the Pelagians, and Semi-pelagians, and not in any new phrase of the Modern age: and that the same may be as agreeable to the Confessions of the Church of England, and other Reformed Churches, and with as little distaste and umbrage to the Lutheran Churches as may be. (217)
Thus, the king’s role in the Synod of Dort is seen once more. His charge was used as a means of defending the “enlarging of Grace beyond Election” and to unifying the British delegates around their final position. Noteworthy is the joining of the Church of England with “other Reformed churches” in a measure of distinction from “the Lutheran Churches.” James desired the larger unity, but he also understood the relative proximities.
Perhaps most importantly, the British believed that this position– their position— was indeed found to be acceptable to the whole of the synod and that the conclusions of Dort were essentially harmonious with it. They returned from the Netherlands praising and defending the Synod of Dort. Milton also notes that King James’ opinion of this outcome can be evaluated in how he treated the delegates in the following years. Each of them was promoted, with Davenant being consecrated bishop of Salisbury and Carleton being elevated to a more prestigious diocese, moving from Llandaff to Chichester.
Breadth of the Reformed Tradition
When I first read this material, I was both surprised and encouraged by the breadth in the Reformed tradition. Groups that we now (improperly) call “High Calvinists” and “moderate Calvinists” existed alongside what we might consider Lutheran-adjacent theologians. Furthermore, this diversity was true both within the English Church and also among the broader European landscape. I have left out certain key names in my summary, but Milton also discusses the various influences of Pierre Du Moulin, Johannes Piscator, Matthias Martinius among others. In addition to the extent of the atonement, other debated theological topics included supralapsarianism and differing perspectives on the perseverance of the saints. On certain points the British asked for a measure of latitude which was denied. At other times, they pressed for a condemnation of what they held to be an error. In the case of supralapsarianism, they were unsuccessful. But on the whole, they were able to find (or force) agreement among the larger assembly. The “true history” can thus be seen in many ways: the various concerns, motivations, divisions, and eventual conclusions.
Rereading Milton these many years later, and now as an Anglican myself, different items stand out. The relationship between the English and the broader Reformed international community is important. There is no question that the English, bishops and all, were considered “Reformed” by the other churches and theologians at Dort. In fact, Carleton was given a particular seating which indicated his rank, and he was always addressed as a bishop. On the one occasion that Gomarus appeared to disparage episcopal hierarchy, the delegation instructed him to apologize, though he appears not to have ever done so (208).
At the same time, the English are jealous to guard their independence from the other Reformed churches. They do not wish to give any appearance that they are themselves subordinate to an international council, and they are keenly aware of certain differences. The most significant of these differences are the form of church government, namely England’s retention of bishops, and the proper interpretation of the “descent into Hell” clause in the Apostles Creed. The particulars of baptism also come up at times, with an interesting disagreement over the propriety of baptizing the children of heathen who have come under the care of Christians (the English affirm). Whether or not to retain the Apocrypha is also debated, but the Dutch end up siding with the British. They kept the Apocrypha, but they did move the books to a different location in their bibles. Another way in which the British appear to stand out is that they are accused at times of being overly scholastic, thus dispelling at least one common myth that argues that scholasticism is to blame for the continental Calvinists allegedly more extreme articulations. The reverse might equally be the case.
The Saumar Controversy, at various times called “Amyraldianism,” was not a matter of discussion at Dort, but it did arise shortly afterwards. Milton is helpful enough to include a treatise by John Davenant on this issue. There Davenant offers a mixed opinion but one that is ultimately critical of the theology of Saumar. This is important in that it shows that there was not a unified “moderate” Calvinism nor any singular “hypothetical universalism.” What we see instead are various expressions and articulations along a doctrinal spectrum with representatives of each residing in both England and the Continent.
John Davenant’s Value Today
Now perhaps all of this has been interesting as a sort of theological biography, one student-turned-presbyter-turned-priest’s observations on 17th century debates. Others might still wonder what exactly this has to do with the Davenant Institute.
The answer to that is imprecise, a sort of general inspiration of sorts. But there is something there. Milton’s work shows the stature of John Davenant and the importance of his contributions, both to the history of the Church of England and also to Reformed theology at large. Instead of being doctrinally suspect, Davenant’s unmistakable impression is on the final product of the Synod of Dort. And upon his return, Davenant was one of the few theologians who the king allowed to publicly discuss the topics associated with Dort. Davenant’s scholarship stands out due to his prowess in church history and his proficiency in technical theology. He embodies a churchmanship that few today know existed. It has now been given the name “Reformed Conformity” among Anglican scholars. For a wider audience, the expression “Reformed Catholicity” might still be apt.
In short, John Davenant gave many of us a model for ecumenical interests, theological method, and scholarship more broadly. Anthony Milton’s book put all of that on my radar, and as I promoted it and talked about Davenant more widely, others took an interest as well.
There were many other theological personalities who also played this kind of role for us. Richard Hooker surely deserves mention. But as we frequently joke, we couldn’t very well brand an institute with his last name. And so, after several more years, many more collaborators, and a few turns of providence, a group of theological students, pastors, and interested laymen came together around the name of John Davenant. Two decades later, his legacy is still important, and Milton’s book still holds up.