left them at Boothby Pannell, till I have looked back to the Long
Parliament, the Society of Covenanters in Sion College, and those
others scattered up and down in London, and given some account
of their proceedings and usage of the late learned Dr. Laud, then
Archbishop of Canterbury. And though I will forbear to mention the
injustice of his death, and the barbarous usage of him, both then and
before it; yet my desire is that what follows may be noted, because it
does now, or may hereafter, concern us; namely, that in his last sad
sermon on the scaffold at his death, he having freely pardoned all his
enemies, and humbly begged of God to pardon them, and besought those
present to pardon and pray for him; yet he seemed to accuse the
magistrates of the City, for suffering a sort of wretched people,
that could not know why he was condemned, to go visibly up and down
to gather hands to a petition, that the Parliament would hasten his
execution. And having declared how unjustly he thought himself to be
condemned, and accused for endeavouring to bring in Popery,--for
that was one of the accusations for which he died,--he declared with
sadness, "That the several sects and divisions then in England,--which
he had laboured to prevent,--were like to bring the Pope a far greater
harvest, than he could ever have expected without them." And said,
"These sects and divisions introduce profaneness under the cloak of an
imaginary Religion; and that we have lost the substance of Religion by
changing it into opinion: and that by these means this Church, which
all the Jesuits' machinations could not ruin, was fallen into apparent
danger by those which were his accusers." To this purpose he spoke at
his death: for this, and more of which, the Reader may view his last
sad sermon on the scaffold. And it is here mentioned, because his dear
friend, Dr. Sanderson, seems to demonstrate the same in his two large
and remarkable Prefaces before his two volumes of Sermons; and he
seems also with much sorrow to say the same again in his last Will,
made when he apprehended himself to be very near his death. And these
Covenanters ought to take notice of it, and to remember, that, by the
late wicked war begun by them, Dr. Sanderson was ejected out of the
Professor's Chair in Oxford; and that if he had continued in it,--for
he lived fourteen years after,--both the learned of this, and other
nations, had been made happy by many remarkable Cases of Conscience,
so rationally stated, and so briefly, so clearly, and so convincingly
determined, that posterity might have joyed and boasted, that Dr.
Sanderson was born in this nation, for the ease and benefit of all the
learned that shall be born after him: but this benefit is so like time
past, that they are both irrecoverably lost.
[Sidenote: Prisoner at Lincoln]
I should now return to Boothby Pannell, where we left Dr. Hammond and
Dr. Sanderson together; but neither can be found there: for the first
was in his journey to London, and the second seized upon the day
after his friend's departure, and carried prisoner to Lincoln, then
a garrison of the Parliament's. For the pretended reason of which
commitment, I shall give this following account.
[Sidenote: Exchanged for Dr. Clarke]
There was one Mr. Clarke, the Minister of Alington, a town not many
miles from Boothby Pannell, who was an active man for the Parliament
and Covenant; one that, when Belvoir Castle--then a garrison for the
Parliament--was taken by a party of the King's soldiers, was taken
in it, and made a prisoner of war in Newark, then a garrison of the
King's; a man so active and useful for his party, that they became so
much concerned for his enlargement, that the Committee of Lincoln sent
a troop of horse to seize and bring Dr. Sanderson a prisoner to that
garrison: and they did so. And there he had the happiness to meet with
many, that knew him so well as to treat him kindly; but told him,
"He must continue their prisoner, till he should purchase his own
enlargement by procuring an exchange for Mr. Clarke, then prisoner in
the King's garrison of Newark." There were many reasons given by the
Doctor of the injustice of his imprisonment, and the inequality of
the exchange: but all were ineffectual; for done it must be, or he
continue a prisoner. And in time done it was, upon the following
conditions.
[Sidenote: Mode of life]
First, that Dr. Sanderson and Mr. Clarke being exchanged, should live
undisturbed at their own Parishes; and if either were injured by the
soldiers of the contrary party, the other, having notice of it, should
procure him a redress, by having satisfaction made for his loss, or
for any other injury; or if not, he to be used in the same kind by the
other party. Nevertheless, Dr. Sanderson could neither live safe nor
quietly, being several times plundered, and once wounded in three
places: but he, apprehending the remedy might turn to a more
intolerable burden by impatience or complaining, forbore both;
and possessed his soul in a contented quietness, without the least
repining. But though he could not enjoy the safety he expected by this
exchange, yet, by His providence that can bring good out of evil, it
turned so much to his advantage, that whereas as his living had been
sequestered from the year 1644, and continued to be so till this time
of his imprisonment, he, by the Articles of War in this exchange for
Mr. Clarke, procured his sequestration to be recalled, and by that
means enjoyed a poor, but contented subsistence for himself, wife, and
children, till the happy restoration of our King and Church.
In this time of his poor, but contented privacy of life, his
casuistical learning, peaceful moderation, and sincerity, became so
remarkable, that there were many that applied themselves to him for
resolution in cases of conscience; some known to him, many not; some
requiring satisfaction by conference, others by letters; so many, that
his life became almost as restless as their minds; yet he denied
no man: and if it be a truth which holy Mr. Herbert says, "That all
worldly joys seem less, when compared with shewing mercy or doing
kindnesses;" then doubtless Dr. Sanderson might have boasted for
relieving so many restless and wounded consciences; which, as Solomon
says, "are a burden that none can bear, though their fortitude may
sustain their other infirmities;" and if words cannot express the
joy of a conscience relieved from such restless agonies; then Dr.
Sanderson might rejoice that so many were by him so clearly and
conscientiously satisfied, for he denied none, and would often praise
God for that ability, and as often for the occasion, and that God had
inclined his heart to do it to the meanest of any of those poor, but
precious souls, for which his Saviour vouchsafed to be crucified.
[Sidenote: Cases of conscience]
Some of these very many cases that were resolved by letters, have been
preserved and printed for the benefit of posterity; as namely,
1. Of the Sabbath.
2. Marrying with a Recusant.
3. Of unlawful love.
4. Of a military life.
5. Of Scandal.
6. Of a bond taken in the King's name.
7. Of the Engagement.
8. Of a rash vow.
But many more remain in private hands, of which one is of Simony; and
I wish the world might see it, that it might undeceive some Patrons,
who think they have discharged that great and dangerous trust, both
to God and man, if they take no money for a living, though it may be
parted with for other ends less justifiable.
[Sidenote: Preface to last sermons]
And in this time of his retirement, when the common people were amazed
and grown giddy by the many falsehoods, and misapplications of truths
frequently vented in sermons; when they wrested the Scripture by
challenging God to be of their party, and called upon him in their
prayers to patronise their sacrilege and zealous frenzies; in this
time he did so compassionate the generality of this misled nation,
that though the times threatened danger, yet he then hazarded his
safety by writing the large and bold Preface now extant before his
last twenty Sermons;--first printed in the year 1655;--in which there
was such strength of reason, with so powerful and clear convincing
applications made to the Non-conformists, as being read by one of
those dissenting brethren, who was possessed with such a spirit of
contradiction, as being neither able to defend his error, nor yield
to truth manifest,--his conscience having slept long and quietly in
a good sequestered living,--was yet at the reading of it so awakened,
that after a conflict with the reason he had met, and the damage he
was to sustain if he consented to it,--and being still unwilling to be
so convinced, as to lose by being over-reasoned,--he went in haste to
the bookseller of whom it was bought, threatened him, and told him in
anger, "he had sold a book in which there was false Divinity; and that
the Preface had upbraided the Parliament, and many godly Ministers of
that party, for unjust dealing." To which his reply was,--'twas Tim.
Garthwaite,--"That 'twas not his trade to judge of true or false
Divinity, but to print and sell books: and yet if he, or any friend
of his, would write an answer to it, and own it by setting his name to
it, he would print the Answer, and promote the selling of it."
[Sidenote: A meeting in Little Britain]
About the time of his printing this excellent Preface, I met him
accidentally in London, in sad-coloured clothes, and, God knows,
far from being costly. The place of our meeting was near to Little
Britain, where he had been to buy a book, which he then had in his
hand. We had no inclination to part presently, and therefore turned
to stand in a corner under a penthouse,--for it began to rain,--and
immediately the wind rose, and the rain increased so much, that both
became so inconvenient, as to force us into a cleanly house, where we
had bread, cheese, ale, and a fire for our money. This rain and wind
were so obliging to me, as to force our stay there for at least an
hour, to my great content and advantage; for in that time he made to
me many useful observations, with much clearness and conscientious
freedom. I shall relate a part of them, in hope they may also turn to
the advantage of my Reader. He seemed to lament, that the Parliament
had taken upon them to abolish our Liturgy, to the scandal of so many
devout and learned men, and the disgrace of those many martyrs, who
had sealed the truth and use of it with their blood: and that no
Minister was now thought godly that did not decry it, and at least
pretend to make better prayers _ex tempore_: and that they, and only
they, that could do so, prayed by the Spirit, and were godly; though
in their sermons they disputed, and evidently contradicted each other
in their prayers. And as he did dislike this, so he did most highly
commend the Common Prayer of the Church, saying, "the Collects were
the most passionate, proper, and most elegant expressions that any
language ever afforded; and that there was in them such piety, and so
interwoven with instructions, that they taught us to the power, the
wisdom, the majesty, and mercy of God, and much of our duty both to
him and our neighbour: and that a congregation, behaving themselves
reverently, and putting up to God these joint and known desires for
pardon of sins, and praises for mercies received, could not but be
more pleasing to God, than those raw, unpremeditated expressions, to
which many of the hearers could not say, Amen."
[Sidenote: "The Treasury of Christian comfort"]
And he then commended to me the frequent use of the Psalter, or Psalms
of David; speaking to this purpose: "That they were the Treasury of
Christian comfort, fitted for all persons and necessities; able to
raise the soul from dejection by the frequent mention of God's mercies
to repentant sinners; to stir up holy desires: to increase joy; to
moderate sorrow; to nourish hope, and teach us patience, by waiting
God's leisure: to beget a trust in the mercy, power, and providence of
our Creator; and to cause a resignation of ourselves to his will; and
then, and not till then, to believe ourselves happy." This, he said,
the Liturgy and Psalms taught us; and that by the frequent use of the
last, they would not only prove to be our soul's comfort, but would
become so habitual, as to transform them into the Image of his soul
that composed them. After this manner he expressed himself concerning
the Liturgy and Psalms; and seemed to lament that this, which was
the devotion of the more primitive times, should in common pulpits
be turned into needless debates about Freewill, Election, and
Reprobation, of which, and many like questions, we may be safely
ignorant, because Almighty God intends not to lead us to Heaven by
hard questions, but by meekness and charity, and a frequent practice
of devotion.
[Sidenote: Dangerous mistakes]
[Sidenote: A year of Homilies]
And he seemed to lament very much, that, by the means of irregular and
indiscreet preaching, the generality of the nation were possessed with
such dangerous mistakes, as to think, "they might be religious first,
and then just and merciful; that they might sell their consciences,
and yet have something left that was worth keeping; that they might
be sure they were elected, though their lives were visibly scandalous;
that to be cunning was to be wise; that to be rich was to be happy,
though their wealth was got without justice or mercy; that to be
busy in things they understood not, was no sin." These and the like
mistakes he lamented much, and besought God to remove them, and
restore us to that humility, sincerity, and singleheartedness, with
which this nation was blessed before the unhappy Covenant was brought
into the nation, and every man preached and prayed what seemed best
in his own eyes. And he then said to me, "That the way to restore this
nation to a more meek and Christian temper, was to have the body of
Divinity--or so much of it as was needful to be known--to be put into
fifty-two Homilies or Sermons, of such a length as not to exceed a
third, or fourth part of an hour's reading: and these needful points
to be made so clear and plain, that those of a mean capacity might
know what was necessary to be believed, and what God requires to be
done; and then some applications of trial and conviction: and these
to be read every Sunday of the year, as infallibly as the blood
circulates the body; and then as certainly begun again, and continued
the year following: and that this being done, it might probably abate
the inordinate desires of knowing what we need not, and practising
what we know and ought to do." This was the earnest desire of this
prudent man. And Oh that Dr. Sanderson had undertaken it! for then in
all probability it would have proved effectual.
[Sidenote: Another conference]
At this happy time of enjoying his company and his discourse, he
expressed a sorrow by saying to me, "Oh that I had gone Chaplain
to that excellently accomplished gentleman, your friend, Sir Henry
Wotton! which was once intended, when he first went Ambassador to
the State of Venice: for by that employment I had been forced into a
necessity of conversing, not with him only, but with several men of
several nations; and might thereby have kept myself from my unmanly
bashfulness, which has proved very troublesome, and not less
inconvenient to me; and which I now fear is become so habitual as
never to leave me: and by that means I might also have known, or at
least have had the satisfaction of seeing, one of the late miracles
of general learning, prudence, and modesty, Sir Henry Wotton's dear
friend, Padre Paulo, who, the author of his life says, was born with
a bashfulness as invincible as I have found my own to be: a man whose
fame must never die, till virtue and learning shall become so useless
as not to be regarded."
This was a part of the benefit I then had by that hour's conversation:
and I gladly remember and mention it, as an argument of my happiness,
and his great humility and condescension. I had also a like advantage
by another happy conference with him, which I am desirous to impart
in this place to the Reader. He lamented much, that in many Parishes,
where the maintenance was not great, there was no Minister to
officiate; and that many of the best sequestered livings were
possessed with such rigid Covenanters as denied the Sacrament to their
Parishioners, unless upon such conditions, and in such a manner, as
they could not take it. This he mentioned with much sorrow, saying,
"The blessed Sacrament did, by way of preparation for it, give
occasion to all conscientious receivers to examine the performance
of their vows, since they received their last seal for the pardon of
their sins past; and to examine and re-search their hearts, and make
penitent reflections on their failings; and, that done, to bewail
them, and then make new vows or resolutions to obey all God's
commands, and beg his grace to perform them. And this done,
the Sacrament repairs the decays of grace, helps us to conquer
infirmities, gives us grace to beg God's grace, and then gives us
what we beg; makes us still hunger and thirst after his righteousness,
which we then receive, and being assisted with our endeavours, will
still so dwell in us, as to become our satisfaction in this life, and
our comfort on our last sick beds." The want of this blessed benefit
he lamented much, and pitied their condition that desired, but could
not obtain it.
[Sidenote: His character]
I hope I shall not disoblige my Reader, if I here enlarge into a
further character of his person and temper. As first, that he was
moderately tall: his behaviour had in it much of a plain comeliness,
and very little, yet enough, of ceremony or courtship; his looks and
motion manifested affability and mildness, and yet he had with these a
calm, but so matchless a fortitude, as secured him from complying
with any of those many Parliament injunctions, that interfered with a
doubtful conscience. His learning was methodical and exact, his wisdom
useful, his integrity visible, and his whole life so unspotted, that
all ought to be preserved as copies for posterity to write after; the
Clergy especially, who with impure hands ought not to offer sacrifice
to that God, whose pure eyes abhor iniquity.
There was in his Sermons no improper rhetoric, nor such perplexed
divisions, as may be said to be like too much light, that so dazzles
the eyes, that the sight becomes less perfect: but there was therein
no want of useful matter, nor waste of words; and yet such clear
distinctions as dispelled all confused notions, and made his hearers
depart both wiser, and more confirmed in virtuous resolutions.
[Sidenote: His memory]
[Sidenote: His even temper]
His memory was so matchless and firm, as 'twas only overcome by his
bashfulness; for he alone, or to a friend, could repeat all the Odes
of Horace, all Tully's Offices, and much of Juvenal and Persius,
without book: and would say, "the repetition of one of the Odes of
Horace to himself, was to him such music, as a lesson on the viol was
to others, when they played it to themselves or friends." And though
he was blest with a clearer judgment than other men, yet he was so
distrustful of it, that he did over-consider of consequences, and
would so delay and re-consider what to determine, that though none
ever determined better, yet, when the bell tolled for him to appear
and read his Divinity Lectures in Oxford, and all the Scholars
attended to hear him, he had not then, or not till then, resolved and
writ what he meant to determine; so that that appeared to be a truth,
which his old dear friend Dr. Sheldon would often say, namely, "That
his judgment was so much superior to his fancy, that whatsoever
this suggested, that disliked and controlled; still considering, and
re-considering, till his time was so wasted, that he was forced to
write, not, probably, what was best, but what he thought last." And
yet what he did then read, appeared to all hearers to be so useful,
clear, and satisfactory, as none ever determined with greater
applause. These tiring and perplexing thoughts begot in him an
averseness to enter into the toil of considering and determining all
casuistical points; because during that time, they neither gave rest
to his body or mind. But though he would not be always loaden with
these knotty points and distinctions; yet the study of old records,
genealogies, and Heraldry, were a recreation and so pleasing, that he
would say they gave rest to his mind. Of the last of which I have seen
two remarkable volumes; and the Reader needs neither to doubt their
truth or exactness.
And this humble man had so conquered all repining and ambitious
thoughts, and with them all other unruly passions, that, if the
accidents of the day proved to his danger or damage, yet he both began
and ended it with an even and undisturbed quietness; always praising
God that he had not withdrawn food and raiment from him and his poor
family; nor suffered him to violate his conscience for his safety, or
to support himself or them in a more splendid or plentiful condition;
and that he therefore resolved with David, "That his praise should be
always in his mouth."
[Sidenote: "De Conscientiâ"]
I have taken a content in giving my Reader this character of his
person, his temper, and some of the accidents of his life past; and
more might be added of all; but I will with sorrow look forward to the
sad days, in which so many good men suffered, about the year 1658, at
which time Dr. Sanderson was in a very low condition as to his estate;
and in that time Mr. Robert Boyle[24]--a gentleman of a very noble
birth, and more eminent for his liberality, learning, and virtue,
and of whom I would say much more, but that he still lives--having
casually met with and read his Lectures _de Juramento_, to his great
satisfaction, and being informed of Dr. Sanderson's great innocence
and sincerity, and that he and his family were brought into a low
condition by his not complying with the Parliament's injunctions,
sent him by his dear friend Dr. Barlow[25]--the now learned Bishop of
Lincoln--50_l._ and with it a request and promise. The request was,
that he would review the Lectures _de Conscientiâ_, which he had read
when he was Doctor of the Chair in Oxford, and print them for the good
of posterity:--and this Dr. Sanderson did in the year 1659.--And the
promise was, that he would pay him that, or a greater sum if desired,
during his life, to enable him to pay an amanuensis, to ease him from
the trouble of writing what he should conceive or dictate. For the
more particular account of which, I refer my Reader to a letter
writ by the said Dr. Barlow, which I have annexed to the end of this
relation.
[Sidenote: The Restoration]
Towards the end of this year, 1659, when the many mixed sects, and
their creators and merciless protectors, had led or driven each other
into a whirlpool of confusion: when amazement and fear had seized
them, and their accusing consciences gave them an inward and fearful
intelligence, that the god which they had long served was now ready to
pay them such wages, as he does always reward witches with for their
obeying him: when these wretches were come to foresee an end of
their cruel reign, by our King's return; and such sufferers as Dr.
Sanderson--and with him many of the oppressed Clergy and others--could
foresee the cloud of their afflictions would be dispersed by it; then,
in the beginning of the year following, the King was by God restored
to us, and we to our known laws and liberties, and a general joy
and peace seemed to breathe through the three nations. Then were the
suffering Clergy freed from their sequestration, restored to their
revenues, and to a liberty to adore, praise, and pray to God in such
order as their consciences and oaths had formerly obliged them. And
the Reader will easily believe, that Dr. Sanderson and his dejected
family rejoiced to see this day, and be of this number.
[Sidenote: Commended to Charles II.]