Cromwell's establishment excluded Prelacy, but it did not altogether
exclude Prelatists. It was possible for them to hold parish livings.
The use of the Prayer Book, the performance of Episcopal rites, and
the exercise of diocesan superintendence were disallowed. Still, those
who approved of such things could preach if the Triers permitted. Not
a few must have accepted this abridged freedom, otherwise we could
not account for the large proportion of clerical conformists at the
period of the Restoration. Numbers had no very decided opinions in
matters relating to Church government and forms of worship; but some
persons of fixed views--on the principle of not doing what they felt
to be unscriptural, only omitting what under other circumstances they
would have gladly performed--were anxious still to labour as parish
pastors for the good of souls. The Episcopal Clergy who remained in the
Establishment, without in any way professing Presbyterianism, may be
divided into two classes.
[Sidenote: _Bull._]
I. Those who, notwithstanding the law against it, continued to use more
or less of the Book of Common Prayer. George Bull, afterwards Bishop
of St. David's, was a distinguished individual of this class. Having
received orders as deacon and priest the same day from the hands of
Dr. Skinner--the ejected Bishop of Oxford, who after his ejectment
continued to perform the rite of ordination--this young man, then only
twenty-one, settled at St. George's, near Bristol, upon an income of
£30 a year. By his preaching, his prudence, and his charities, he is
said to have won the favour of Quakers, and "other wild sectaries," and
even to have reclaimed some from their "pernicious errors." Stories
are told of his notes being blown out of the Bible over the Church,
amidst the laughter of the congregation; and of his adroitly turning
the circumstance to account by proceeding with his sermon _extempore_.
Another anecdote is related of his being interrupted by a Quaker, with
whom he expostulated so calmly, that the people lost all patience,
and would have fallen violently on the poor delinquent, had not the
preacher come down from the pulpit to save him from their assaults. He
constantly repeated the common prayers without referring to the book;
thereby, it is said, exciting admiration even in some who counted
the prohibited volume a beggarly element, and a carnal performance.
Nelson, his biographer, speaks of his diligence in visiting his
flock, in instructing the ignorant, in comforting the afflicted, and
in correcting the erring. He seems even to have kept up some sort
of parish discipline;--summoning to a conference those who absented
themselves from communion and worship, and engaging in controversy with
those who seduced any of his parishioners. Bull aimed at doing in the
parish of St. George's, after the Episcopalian type, what Baxter did
at Kidderminster, after the "Presbyterian way," and, on the whole, he
appears to have been successful.[298]
John Hacket, afterwards Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, was allowed
for a time to read the Common Prayer at Cheam, to the living of which
he had been presented through the interest of the Lord Keeper Williams.
At length the Surrey Committee required him to forbear using the
forbidden formulary, "when he found himself under the necessity of
omitting such parts as were most offensive to the Government."[299]
After this limited measure of interference, he continued to hold his
living.
[Sidenote: _Barksdale--Gunning._]
Mr. Barksdale, an Episcopalian, held the living of Sudeley Manor, in
Gloucestershire--the burial place of Catherine Parr. His employment
of the Liturgy, and his method of proceeding with reference to the
Lord's Supper, appear in a tract of the period, which, because it
affords an example of the public discussions then common, deserves the
reader's notice. Mr. Helme, who seems to have been a Fifth Monarchy
Baptist, held the neighbouring vicarage of Winchcomb, and between
these neighbours a controversy arose. Lists for the combatants were
prepared in Winchcomb church, and a large congregation assembled within
the battlemented walls of that edifice to witness the ecclesiastical
tournament. The Episcopalian begged the Baptist to allow him "to stand
in his pue," that he "might be seen and heard the better, and be free
from the crowd;" a request not granted, as the Baptist wanted "the
pue for himself." He entered at the appointed time, attended "by a
justice of the peace" and three other friends. His opponent had "a pue
_in opposito_," which he had "caused to be erected." The incumbent of
Winchcomb had gathered a church out of the parish, and the point mooted
by his neighbour of Sudeley was, "Whether it be lawful to minister and
receive the Holy Sacrament in congregations called mixed?" Barksdale
maintained the affirmative; but, in the progress of debate, admitted
the propriety of doing--without sanction of the rubric--what resembled
the Presbyterian practice of "fencing the table." The congregation
of his hearers, he confessed, was mixed, not so the company of his
communicants. His practice was, after certain preparations, to repeat
aloud, when the sacrament was to be administered, "all that are not
prepared depart, you that are prepared stay." After some had departed,
the rest he looked upon as prepared. The question of Episcopacy also
came under discussion. Mr. Barksdale maintained, very fairly, that "the
ministers of the Church of England and the good people adhering to them
ought to hold their assemblies without disturbance"--and that "the new
men should allow to others equal liberty with themselves, remembering
that Englishmen were living under a free Commonwealth." From the tract
it seems that some people threatened to proceed against Mr. Barksdale
for using the Common Prayer, and for other offences.[300]
Peter Gunning, afterwards Bishop of Ely, read the Liturgy in the
Chapel at Exeter House, and "asserted the cause of the Church of
England with great pains and courage, when the Parliament was most
predominant."[301] He was allowed "a contention for the truth" (1658)
in two public disputations with Henry Denn, on infant baptism, before
thousands of people, in the church of St. Clement Danes--and, with the
assistance of Dr. Pearson, he had a conference with two Romanists,
reported by them in a pamphlet entitled, "Schism Unmasked." Wood
remarks that there was no considerable sect with which Gunning did
not dispute; yet he met with no interference, beyond the Protector's
rebuke, and an occasional disturbance whilst he was conducting
liturgical worship.[302]
William Parsons, Rector of Birchanger, suffered under the
Presbyterians, and was kept in jail nineteen weeks for his loyalty to
Charles I., but afterwards he returned to his living, and usually read
the Common Prayer during the Protectorate.[303] Notwithstanding his
Episcopalianism, he was created Doctor of Laws at Oxford under Owen's
Vice-Chancellorship.
II. The second-class of Episcopalians in the Establishment were those
who held office without using the formularies of their Church.
[Sidenote: _Farindon._]
Pearson was lecturer at St. Clement's, Eastcheap, and it was there
that he delivered the discourses which formed the substance of his
noble Text Book on the Creed. Farindon, less known, but worthy of being
coupled with his famous contemporary, affords another instance of the
same kind. Ejected from his Vicarage and from his divinity readership
after the commencement of the civil wars, he, in the year 1647, became
the Minister of St. Mary Magdalene, Milk Street. A second time he had
to quit his preferment, and soon afterwards, he was a second time
restored. The dates are uncertain, but Farindon is supposed by his
biographer to have remained in his pastorate "from 1654 to 1658,
the year of his death."[304] During his forced retirement, a clerical
friend twice occupied his pulpit, and made an eloquent appeal to the
congregation on his behalf, telling them that such persons had been
seen in that church "as were able to create a temple wheresoever they
went--men, each of whom, single and alone, made up a full congregation,
nay a synod;" so that some persons had not unfitly named that place
"the scholars' church."[305] Hammond and Sanderson were the Divines
referred to, and the passage indicates the high estimation in which
Farindon's preaching was held--and justly so. A collection at the
doors for the ejected minister followed each of these discourses, and
the whole of what was contributed amounted to more than four hundred
pounds--a sum then double in value what it would be at the present
time. Upon his second restoration, he delivered a sermon, which was
admirable for its ability, eloquence, and temper. He chose for his
text, "Brethren, I beseech you, be as I am; for I am as ye are; ye have
not injured me at all."[306]
The following account from a contemporary autobiography is interesting
in connexion with Farindon:--I had usually frequented St. Gregory's,
Dr. Mossam's, Dr. Wild's, Dr. Gunning's, or some other congregations
where the orthodox clergy preached and administered the sacraments;
but the soldiers often disturbing those congregations, it was not so
convenient for my father to appear there. Coming into Milk Street
church one Sunday, I found very few in it, but Mr. Robinson helped
me to a seat, and there I heard Mr. Farindon, that excellent scholar
and preacher. It was his first day. Mr. Case had been there for some
years, and the parishioners were now divided about a successor; some
would have an Independent, others a Presbyterian, and there were
several meetings and competitions, but no agreement, nor like to be;
whereupon Mr. Robinson desired he might put one into the pulpit until
they could agree; and said they should choose whether they should pay
him or not. And so he got the pulpit and put Mr. Farindon into it,
which he kept two or three years. I went home and told my father I had
found a church where he might safely go, where was room enough, and
where he might hear a most excellent orthodox preacher. My grandmother,
Mrs. Moundeford, then dwelt in that parish; so the next Sunday my
father and myself went thither, and Mr. Farindon preached again; my
father's coach standing in the street near the church, gave occasion to
some to look in, and in a short time the congregation so increased that
it was very difficult to get a place.[307]
Farindon was an intimate friend of the memorable John Hales; and
Aubrey, amidst his charming gossipings, enables us to picture the
latter spending much of his time at Lady Salter's, at Eton, he
having been a fellow of the College there. "He lodged, after his
sequestration, at the next house, the Christopher Inn, where I saw
him, a pretty _little_ man, sanguine, of a cheerful countenance, very
gentle and courteous. I was received by him with much humanity. He was
in a kind of violet-coloured cloth gown, with buttons and loops, (he
wore not a black gown), and was reading Thomas à Kempis; it was within
a year before he deceased. He loved canary, but moderately, to refresh
his spirits. He had a bountiful mind."[308]
[Sidenote: _Hardy._]
Dr. Nathaniel Hardy--author of a somewhat famous Exposition of
the first epistle of John, and an Episcopalian of the Puritan
school--continued to minister in St. Dionysius Backchurch, in Fenchurch
Street, one of the buildings destroyed by the Fire of London. He
preached a funeral sermon upon the death of Charles I., and annually
commemorated "the royal martyrdom." At his "loyal lecture," collections
were made on behalf of the deprived clergy;[309] yet, notwithstanding
his royalist sentiments, the bold preacher remained unmolested. Some of
the episcopal clergy became chaplains, of which we have an interesting
example in the life of Dr. Richard Sherlock, uncle of Dr. Wilson, the
celebrated Bishop of Sodor and Man. Driven by the troubles of the
time to seek shelter in Oxford, he afterwards found refuge in the
family of Sir Robert Bradrosse, of Borwick, in Lancashire. There, as
we learn from a memoir of him by his eminent kinsman, he proved his
ministerial fidelity by rebuking the evils which he witnessed amongst
the Royalists, and by expostulating with his patron. "He desired him
to consider what injury he did to the distressed Church, for which
he always expressed so commendable a zeal. He intimated to him that
this was both the cause of her sufferings, and that which made her the
scorn of her enemies, that her friends did her more dishonour than
they could do her hurt; so that she may truly say, in the words of
Zechariah, 'These are the wounds which I received in the house of my
friends.'"[310]
There remained a number of Episcopalians who did not conform in any way
to the new order of things. They were deprived of their preferments,
and it will be our endeavour now to trace their fortunes. We begin
with the deprived prelates.
Godfrey Goodman, Bishop of Gloucester, died in the year 1655, after
having run a remarkable career. It is said that an entry in a volume
now in the Chapter Library at Gloucester corroborates the suspicion
of his early leaning to Romanism.[311] As early as the year 1626 he
found himself in trouble on account of a sermon he had preached, in
which he had asserted the doctrine of the real presence. Perhaps the
consciousness of his tendencies led him to wish to have a coadjutor in
his episcopal office, and then eventually to resign his bishopric;--a
wish which is made apparent in a letter written to him by Archbishop
Laud, in the year 1634.[312] When the canons were submitted to the
Convocation of 1640, he at first refused to sign them;[313] for which,
as Fuller states, he was sent to the Gatehouse, where "he got by his
restraint what he never could have gained by his liberty, namely, of
one reputed popish, to become for a short time popular, as the only
confessor suffering for not subscribing the canons."[314] Nalson says
nothing respecting his imprisonment, but only mentions that Goodman
refused a second and a third time, and then at last put his hand to the
book, declining to say that he did so _ex animo_. Laud told him that
his refusal proved him to be a Papist, or a Socinian, or a sectary.
This conclusion he himself denied, but Nalson adds, it "proved true,
for he died a Papist."[315]
[Sidenote: _Ussher._]
A contrast to Goodman is found in Ussher. Upon his leaving Oxford,
where last we met him, and his proceeding to visit Lady Stradling, at
her Castle of St. Donate's, in Glamorganshire, there occurred to this
eminent Divine an odd adventure, which indicates what must have been
the state of the country and the circumstances of travelling at that
period. The Welsh then being in a state of rebellion against English
governors--as the ejected Primate of Ireland, with his daughter,
were quietly riding along the road, they fell into the hands of some
straggling insurgents, who dragged them from their horses, and stripped
them of their baggage. Books and MSS. were wantonly strewed about
the highway; but the respect in which the Prelate was held appears
when we learn, that the neighbours from time to time brought back to
him his scattered treasures, so that on their being put together he
"found not many wanting."[316] Coming to London he filled the office
of preacher at Lincoln's Inn, employing his leisure from public
duty upon that wonderful monument of learning, his "Annals of the
Old Testament,"--in which he unfolded a system of chronology, since
widely adopted in the reformed churches. Cromwell sent for Ussher,
and conversed with him upon the promotion of the Protestant religion
at home and abroad; at the same time offering him a lease of certain
lands pertaining to the see of Armagh. When failure of sight and
other infirmities had unfitted the Bishop for preaching any longer,
he resigned his office at Lincoln's Inn, and sought in seclusion the
consolations of that Gospel which he had faithfully proclaimed. When
Cromwell published his ordinance against the Episcopalian clergy,
they requested Ussher to employ his influence to mitigate the severity
of his Highness's anger.[317] He succeeded at first in obtaining from
the Protector a promise that the Episcopalians should be unmolested,
if they did but quietly submit to the government of the Commonwealth,
a promise which was as much as could be fairly expected; but, during
a second interview, Cromwell confessed that his Council had advised
him not to grant any indulgence to persons so implacably disaffected
as the Episcopalians were, since it might prove very dangerous to the
State. Anything which passed between two such men is interesting to
posterity; and therefore a further story is preserved, to the effect,
that Cromwell--suffering at the time from a boil--remarked to his right
reverend visitor, "If this core were once out, I should be soon well."
"I doubt the core lies deeper," is the reported reply. "There is a core
in the heart which must be taken out, or else it will not be well."
"Ah," rejoined the Protector, "so there is indeed." Supposing the story
to be true, the self-application of such reproof did no less credit to
Cromwell, than its honest administration did to Ussher. Leaving the
smoke and bustle of London for the breezy downs and rural scenery of
Reigate, the aged scholar there pursued his studies so far as failing
strength permitted him; and, there, with a calm mind, joining in prayer
with the chaplain of the Countess of Peterborough, he at once ended
his days and his sorrows. The Protector ordered a public funeral for
the deceased Bishop, and contributed £200 towards the expenses--an
order which, whatever might be the extra cost entailed by it upon
his relatives, was intended as a mark of honour, and was so regarded
by his friends and by the clergy of London. The latter followed the
plumed hearse from Somerset House to Westminster Abbey, accompanied by
a guard of soldiers and a vast concourse of people. Cromwell permitted
the burial service of the Prayer Book to be used on the occasion, a
circumstance which appears the more remarkable, when we recollect that
it occurred just after the severest of all his measures against the
Episcopal Church.[318]
[Sidenote: _Hall._]
The pious Joseph Hall--the English Seneca--after the "hard measure"
meted out to him by Parliament, went to live in the hamlet of Heigham,
just outside one of the gates of the old city, of which he had been
Lord Bishop. There, in a rented house--now the little Elizabethan inn
bearing the sign of the Dolphin[319]--he spent the remnant of his
days in seclusion and poverty; suffering from strangury and stone;
but bearing both his privations and his disease with the patience and
magnanimity of Christian faith. His will, after bequeathing his soul to
God, directed his body to be interred without any funeral pomp--with
this "monition," that he did not hold God's house a meet repository
for the bodies of the greatest saints: but his executors, whilst
"admiring the lowly mind of the departed," buried him in the chancel of
the little church; where the people of the hamlet still behold every
Sunday his mural monument in black marble, bearing the figure of a
gilt skeleton, which holds in its hand a scroll inscribed with the
admonitory words, "_Debemus morti, nos, nostraque_."
Morton, Bishop of Durham, a man of High Church views, had, in the
height of the popular fury against Prelatists, been assailed, as he
rode in his coach through the streets; and when some one remarked, "He
is a good man," "No matter," the Polyphemus of the mob replied, "he is
a Bishop." Eight hundred pounds a year was voted him by Parliament,
which, however, as it is reported, was never paid; but he did receive
the sum of one thousand pounds, with which he discharged his debts and
purchased an annuity. He was turned out of his house in London just
before the execution of Charles. Having lived awhile successively with
old Royalist friends, including the Earl of Rutland, he travelled up
one day to London, and was overtaken and joined on the road, in the
friendly fashion of those times, by Sir Christopher Yelverton, who had
some share in the humiliation of the Church. Ignorant of his travelling
companion, the knight, as their horses ambled on side by side, asked
the bishop who he was; the Bishop, having in this respect the advantage
of the knight, replied, with a dash of brave Episcopal pride which
rose above present humiliation, "I am that old man, the Bishop of
Durham, notwithstanding all your votes." To the enquiry whither he
went, he replied, "To London, to live a little while, and then die."
The incident is worth relating, as a specimen of the kindly English
feeling which in many an unknown case tempered party animosities. Sir
Christopher entered into friendly discourse with the ejected Bishop,
took him home to his seat in Northamptonshire, appointed him tutor
to his son, and left his friendship as an heirloom to the pupil--who
imbibed his tutor's love for Episcopacy, and in 1659 reverently closed
the old man's eyes in his 95th year.[320]
[Sidenote: _Other Bishops._]
Ralph Brownrigg, of Exeter--of whom, when made a Bishop, Fuller
observes he was "_defied_ by some who almost _deified_ him before, in
whose eyes he seemed the blacker for wearing white sleeves"--after
losing his bishopric found shelter at Sonning, a pleasant little
village on the banks of the Thames, not far from the town of Reading.
There, in the hospitable mansion of Thomas Rich, he enjoyed respectful
entertainment during the Protectorate; and about a year before his
death received the appointment of preacher at the Temple. "The deserved
opinion of his goodness," we are informed by Fuller, "had peaceable
possession in the hearts of the Presbyterian party; and I observed at
his funeral that the prime persons of all persuasions were present,
whose judgments going several ways met all in a general grief for his
decease. He was buried on the cost of both Temples, to his great but
their greater honour."[321]
Thomas Winniffe,[322] who was a Bishop with Puritan predilections, and
who was raised to the see of Lincoln at the beginning of the Church
troubles--by way of conciliation, when it was too late--found little
besides sorrow in the possession of his mitre. Driven from his house at
Westminster he went to live at Lambourne, in Essex, "having formerly
been the painful minister thereof;" and there he died in the year 1654,
leaving a goodly reputation for piety and learning.
John Owen and Roger Manwaring, two Welsh bishops, the first of
St. Asaph, the second of St. David's--like the rest of those just
enumerated--died before the Restoration, Owen, in the year 1651,
Manwaring, at Carmarthen, in 1653.[323]
The fortunes of the Bishops who survived the return of Charles the
Second, and the re-establishment of Prelacy, demand a few notices.
In the sequestered village of Langley, in the County of Bucks,
King, Bishop of Chichester, spent some years at the seat of his
brother-in-law, Sir Richard Hobart. Wren, "that bird of ill omen,"
driven from his nest at Ely, had to undergo some severe retaliation
for past offences; and became so reduced in circumstances, that when
his son took a degree at the University of Oxford in the year 1660,
the father had not wherewith to pay the fees. Juxon, the amiable
Metropolitan who attended Charles on the scaffold, retained the use
of Fulham Palace up to the year 1647--"reserved, like Ulysses by the
Cyclops, for the last morsel" and, after the Whitehall tragedy, he
retired to his manor of Little Compton, in Gloucestershire, where he
remained until the Restoration. Skinner, Bishop of Oxford, during the
whole period of the Commonwealth enjoyed the Rectory of Launton, where
he read prayers and conferred orders. Warner, Bishop of Rochester, a
man of wealth--and, after compounding for his estates, possessing
a handsome residue--largely helped his suffering brethren, at the
expense of some self-denial, which led him to say--for he was a man
of humour with a little self-complacency--"that he did eat the crag
ends of the neck of mutton himself, that he might leave the poor the
shoulder." Brian Duppa, an ecclesiastic of moderate opinions, and a
graceful courtier, who succeeded Davenant at Salisbury, spent some
time at Richmond in solitude and devotion; but he availed himself of
opportunities to preserve and revive the Episcopal Church. From one of
his letters we learn that in the year 1653 meetings were being held to
consult "_ne ecclesia aliquid detrementi caperet_, especially in such a
sad juncture of time, when the well-being of it could hardly fall into
consideration, and the great care was, that though stripped of all her
outward helps, yet there might be a being left her."[324] Piers, Bishop
of Wells, whose Episcopal administration had irritated the Puritans,
lived at Cuddesdon, upon a considerable estate of his own, which the
party in power "had been so merciful as to leave him."
[Sidenote: _Bramhall._]
There was at that time another Prelate who by his ability, devotion,
and attainments, adorned the Irish bench. Bramhall, Bishop of
Londonderry, fled to the Continent after the ruin of the Royal cause,
and then having returned to Ireland, and undergone great dangers and
difficulties, he fled again and had a narrow escape. "This escape of
his is accounted very wonderful, for 'the little bark he was in was
closely hunted by two of the Parliament frigates, many of which
were on that coast; and when they were come so near that all hopes of
being saved were taken away, ... on a sudden the wind slackened into
a perfect calm, and, as it were, flew into the sails of the little
vessel, and carried her away in view.'" "On his arrival in foreign
parts, Providence supplied him with a considerable sum of money, of
which he greatly stood in need; for having had seven hundred pounds
long due to him, for salmon caught in the river Bann, and sent abroad,
which debt he looked upon as lost, he was now so fortunate as to
recover it; which proved a seasonable relief both to him and to many
Royalists that partook of his generosity. During this second time
of his being abroad, 'he had many disputes about religion with the
learned of all nations, sometimes occasionally, and at other times by
appointment and formal challenge;' and wrote several things in defence
of the Church of England. He likewise purposed to draw a parallel
between the liturgy of the Church of England and the public forms of
the Protestant Churches; and 'for that end designed a journey into
Spain;' 'but he met with an unexpected diversion in his first day's
journey into that kingdom;' 'for he no sooner came into the house where
he intended to refresh himself but he was known and called by his name
by the hostess. And his lordship admiring at his being discovered, she
soon revealed the secret, and shewed him his own picture, and assured
him there were several of them upon the road; that, being known by
them, he might be seized and carried to the Inquisition, and that
her husband, among others, had power to that purpose, which he would
certainly make use of if he found him. The Bishop saw evidently he
was a condemned man, being already hanged _in effigie_, and therefore
made use of the advertisement, and escaped out of the power of that
Court.'"[325] As an example of the reverses suffered in those days, and
to indicate the strange employments to which the highest dignitaries
might have to betake themselves, it may be mentioned, that Bramhall
acted as prize-master to Charles at the port of Flushing, where, in
person, he sold captured freights, and had often to complain of the
indignities to which he and his fellow Royalists were exposed.
[Sidenote: _Bramhall._]
Although not compiling memoirs of these sufferers, yet to interest
the reader, as well as illustrate the circumstances and sentiments of
Episcopalians during the Commonwealth, we venture to notice certain
passages in Bramhall's writings, which were composed by him during
the period of his exile. In his "Just Vindication of the Church of
England," printed at London (1654), the author (who wrote in Holland)
complains of the Episcopalians having to suffer so much for their
principles--"being chased as vagabonds into the merciless world to beg
relief of strangers." Then, comparing the conduct of Papists abroad and
at home during an earlier period with the conduct of English Churchmen
of his own day towards indigent brethren, he charges the latter with
neglecting to manifest sympathy and help. Foreign princes and their own
countrymen of the same communion had founded colleges in other lands
for Roman Catholics who were driven from England; and the age before
the civil wars had been as fruitful in works of Protestant piety and
charity as any age preceding it since the conversion of Britain. Hence,
although foreign assistance could not be hoped for, yet a larger supply
from home might have been expected, inasmuch as English Episcopalians
then were much more numerous than English Catholics had been at the
period referred to. "Hath the sword," he goes on to ask, "devoured up
all the charitable Obadiahs in our land?" or, is there no man that
lays "the affliction of Joseph to heart?" A great lack of love and
zeal amongst brethren of the same faith in England alone could justify
these interrogations--for Bramhall laments no want of ability in his
friends to succour the wanderers, but only a want of will. The exiled
Prelate could only cast himself and his companions upon the help of
Heaven. "God, that maintained His people in the wilderness without the
ordinary supply of food or raiment, will not desert us until 'He turn
our captivity as the rivers in the south.' Where human help faileth,
Divine begins."[326]
[Sidenote: _Bramhall._]
Turning to Bramhall's "Vindication of himself and the Episcopal clergy
from the Presbyterian charge of Popery,"--a book written about the
year 1659, though not published till 1672[327]--in reply to Baxter's
"Treatise of the Grotian Religion," we find in it a defence of the
conduct of Episcopalians in the days of their prosperity. Baxter had
complained of the persecutions inflicted by them upon the Puritans.
According to him, in some places, it had been much more dangerous for
a minister to preach a lecture once or twice on the lord's Day, or
to expound the Catechism, than it had been never to preach at all.
Bramhall replies: "If preachers shall not content themselves to sow
the wheat over again, but shall sow tares above the wheat; if they
shall seek to introduce new doctrines, new disciplines, and new forms
of worship, by popular sermons, different from and destructive to those
which are established by law, who can blame the magistrates, political
and ecclesiastical, if they begin to look about them? A seditious
orator is dangerous everywhere, but nowhere more than in the pulpit.
Then blame not magistrates, if they punish seditious or schismatical
preachers more than one who is no preacher. All laws, and all prudent
magistrates, regard public dangers more than particular defects."[328]
The Bishop did not see that he employed a two-edged sword, and that
while aiming a blow at his adversary, he ran the risk of receiving,
through counter-thrusts, a wound from the back stroke of his own
weapon. If to preach doctrines contrary to those which were established
by law deserved chastisement from the magistrate--if such preaching was
seditious preaching, then the Commonwealth Government was justified in
depriving and silencing Episcopalian ministers. Bramhall vindicated
his own party in having done the very same sort of thing which he now
complained of as unrighteous when done by his opponents. It is plain
enough that both parties were in the wrong, and that each furnished the
other with a miserable pretext for revengeful injustice. And when the
same writer, comparing Nonconformist with Episcopal sufferers, quietly
says: the former suffered for faction, and the latter for faith,[329]
and so concludes the subject,--everybody must smile to see how he
assumes as settled the very point which was in dispute. His opponents
could just as easily say that they were faithful, and that he and his
brethren were factious. It is the old story--as old as human nature,
and as modern as this morning's newspaper.
The Episcopalians were exposed to a cross fire from the Puritans,
who charged them with Popery, and from the Papists, who charged them
with schism. The story of the Nag's Head consecration was revived.
Laud had treated Presbyterians and Independents as schismatics. M. de
la Milletiere, counsellor in ordinary to the King of France, in an
epistle, written in the year 1653, with a view of inviting Charles
II. to embrace the Catholic faith, maintained, that everybody knew
the Archbishop, who had been nourished in the English schism, had no
other thought than to reunite in one body the people who were divided
into sects amongst themselves, and to make himself chief head of one
schismatical Church. "And we see," he adds, "God hath permitted that
his own people, divided against itself, hath caused his head to be cut
off." This passage illustrates the view which was entertained of Laud
and his followers by foreign Roman Catholics, and also of the sort of
controversy the refugees had to maintain in their travels through Roman
Catholic countries. Bramhall published at the Hague, in 1653, a reply
to this performance, repelling the charge of schism, and vindicating
the memory of his friend. He calls Laud a most glorious martyr, a man
of profound learning, exemplary life, clean hands, a most sincere
heart, a patron of learning, and a friend of order and uniformity,
but not for sinister ends.[330] The defence was honestly written, and
indicated what many honest exiles thought of Laud--how they dwelt on
his virtues, and were totally blind to the folly, mischief, and sin
of his intolerance; but by holding up to admiration such a Prelate,
without a word of condemnation for his faults, Bramhall and others
gave bad omen of what they would do themselves if they should ever be
restored to power.
[Sidenote: _Bramhall._]
An elaborate confutation of the Nag's Head fable engaged the pen
of the same writer, and issued from a press at the Hague in the
year 1658.[331] In connection with his zeal and diligence in this
controversy it is worth while to notice the suspicions which
Bramhall entertained of Romanist intrigues in England throughout the
Commonwealth era. These suspicions on the part of Presbyterians and
Baptists have been already described. There must have been immense
exaggeration in such reports; yet their extensive circulation amongst
people of different opinions--all of them, however, agreeing in a
hatred of Rome--is somewhat remarkable. Impossible as it now is to
ascertain the amount of truth which these rumours might contain, they
are curious as signs of what was a prevalent belief in those days. That
the reader may see for himself what such a man as Bramhall heard and
credited on this subject, we subjoin the greater part of a letter to
Ussher, which he wrote in the year 1654:--
[Sidenote: _Bramhall on Romanists._]
"It plainly appears that in the year 1646, by order from Rome, above
one hundred of the Romish clergy were sent into England, consisting of
English, Scotch, and Irish, who had been educated in France, Italy,
Germany, and Spain; part of these within the several schools there
appointed for their instructions. In each of these Romish nurseries,
these scholars were taught several handicraft-trades and callings,
as their ingenuities were most bending, besides their orders or
functions of that Church. They have many yet at Paris a fitting to be
sent over, who twice in the week oppose one the other; one pretending
Presbytery, the other Independency; some Anabaptism, and the others
contrary tenets--dangerous and prejudicial to the Church of England,
and to all the Reformed here abroad. But they are wisely preparing
to prevent their designs, which I heartily wish were considered in
England among the wise there. When the Romish orders do thus argue pro
and con, there is appointed one of the learned of those convents to
take notes and to judge: and as he finds their fancies, whether for
Presbytery, Independency, Anabaptism, Atheism, or for any new tenets,
so, accordingly, they be to act, and to exercise their wits. Upon
their permission, when they be sent abroad, they enter their names
in the convent registry, also their licences; if a Franciscan, if a
Dominician, or Jesuit, or any other order, having several names there
entered in their licence; in case of a discovery in one place, then
to fly to another, and there to change their names or habit. For an
assurance of their constancy to their several orders, they are to give
monthly intelligence to their fraternities of all affairs wherever
they be dispersed; so that the English abroad know news better than ye
at home. When they return into England, they are taught their lesson:
to say, (if any enquire from whence they come,) that they are poor
Christians formerly that fled beyond sea for their religion sake, and
are now returned, with glad news, to enjoy their liberty of conscience.
The one hundred men that went over in 1646, were most of them soldiers
in the Parliament's army, and were daily to correspond with those
Romanists in our late King's army that were lately at Oxford, and
pretended to fight for his sacred Majesty; for, at that time, there
were some Roman Catholics who did not know the design a contriving
against our Church and State of England. But the year following, 1647,
many of those Romish Orders who came over the year before were in
consultation together, knowing each other. And those of the King's
party, asking some why they took with the Parliament's side, and asking
others whether they were bewitched to turn Puritans, not knowing the
design; but at last, secret bulls and licences being produced by those
of the Parliament's side, it was declared between them, there was no
better design to confound the Church of England than by pretending
liberty of conscience. It was argued then that England would be a
second Holland, a Commonwealth; and if so, what would become of the
King? It was answered, 'Would to God it were come to that point.' It
was again replied, 'Yourselves have preached so much against Rome and
his Holiness, that Rome and her Romanists will be little the better
for that change:' but it was answered, 'You shall have mass sufficient
for a hundred thousand in a short space, and the governors never the
wiser.' Then some of the mercifullest of the Romanists said, 'This
cannot be done unless the King die;' upon which argument, the Romish
Orders thus licensed, and in the Parliament army, wrote unto their
several convents, but especially to the Sorbonists, whether it may be
scrupled to make away our late godly King and his Majesty his son, our
King and master, who, blessed be God, hath escaped their Romish snares
laid for him? It was returned from the Sorbonists, that it was lawful
for Roman Catholics to work changes in Governments for the Mother
Church's advancement, and chiefly in an heretical kingdom; and so
lawfully make away the King."[332]
[Sidenote: _Cosin--Morley._]
Concluding this imperfect story respecting the Bishops, we now relate
what happened to the other clergy. Several of them went abroad.
Cosin, the High Church Dean of Peterborough, was of this number. At
Charenton, near Paris, according to Walker, he kept up the English
Church discipline and worship by the Common Prayer, recovered some
who were inclined to Popery, and had encounters with several Jesuits
and Romish priests; but his tendencies in another direction appear in
"Evelyn's Diary," where it is related that, "The Dean of Peterborough
preached on the Feast of Pentecost; perstringing those of Geneva for
their irreverence of the blessed Virgin."[333] The same diarist gives
a glimpse of the ceremonies in the chapel of the exiles: "The King and
Duke received the sacrament first by themselves, the Lords Byron and
Wilmot holding the long towel all along the altar."[334] To shew the
sincerity of the Dean, who had raised--and we do not wonder at it,
when we think of his childish ritualism--such a storm of Puritan
indignation against himself; and as an indication of his courage and
his constancy--a trait of character, no doubt common in that age, as
it is wont to be amongst all but the basest of mankind, when storms of
persecution try their attachment to the Church of their childhood and
their convictions--we venture to quote a few lines from one of Cosin's
letters to his friend Sancroft, who was destined to occupy the chair of
the Primacy, but was at the time of the Restoration a wanderer abroad:
"I am right glad to hear still, (as I have been told by divers persons
heretofore,) how firm and unmoved you continue your own standing in the
midst of these great and violent storms that are now raised against
the Church of England; which, for my part, notwithstanding the outward
glory and dress that she had, be in these evil times taken from her,
yet I honour and reverence above all the other churches of the world;
for she bears upon her, more signally than any other that I know does,
the marks of Christ, which, when all is done, will be our greatest
glory."[335]
Dr. Morley, in company with Cosin, attended the English Court in the
city of Paris in the year 1651.[336] After being engaged in the
education of Hyde's family during part of their exile, at a period when
they were "in great want already, and likely to be in more and more,
even to a very great extremity, if God in mercy did not provide for
it by some extraordinary means, beyond all visible probability,"--he
became chaplain at Heidelberg to Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, at a
salary of £50 per annum, with permission "to officiate to the Queen's
family according to the liturgy of the Church of England, without
any subordination to the classis." He had been a friend of Falkland,
of Chillingworth, and of Waller, and before the wars was thought to
favour the Puritans. Burnet says he was doctrinally a Calvinist, and
was pious and charitable, but he also speaks of him as extremely
passionate, and full of obstinacy--a statement which Baxter confirms
in his account of the Savoy disputations.[337] He had in early days
been "one of Ben Jonson's sons," a circumstance which accords with his
life-long reputation for brilliant wit. That gift, always dangerous,
is particularly so to a clergyman; and Morley, who is said to have
been "keen, but inoffensive," though admired by his friends for his
companionable qualities, was condemned by many for social habits and
a tone of conversation unbecoming a Christian minister.
[Sidenote: _Basire._]
Isaac Basire, who had been chaplain to King Charles and to the Bishop
of Lichfield, and who had held a Prebendal stall and a Rectory,
being deprived of all his preferments, found refuge in Rouen, his
native city, whilst his wife and children were encompassed by pecuniary
difficulties at home. After travelling with pupils in Italy and
elsewhere, he visited the islands of the Mediterranean, and also the
shores of Greece--where he preached, by invitation of the Metropolitan,
before his bishops and the clergy. He visited Naples and Sicily, where
he officiated for some weeks on board ship. He went also to Aleppo
and Jerusalem, had conferences with the Greek and Latin clergy, and
interested himself in the Coptic Churches: at the same time he aimed
at reforming the Eastern Christians, and endeavoured to promulgate
the doctrines and formularies of English Episcopalians.[338] We are
perfectly ready to honour a man who, in the hour of his spiritual
mother's humiliation, and when driven from her altars, vindicated her
priesthood, maintained her ritual, and diffused her principles;
but we must add, that Basire attached most unjustifiable importance
to certain ecclesiastical matters, and went beyond bounds in his
episcopalian zeal, betraying, at the same time, a strong hatred to
those who in England held the reins of government.
[Sidenote: _Jeremy Taylor._]
Let us return to our own country, to trace other and more illustrious
Episcopal confessors in their various retreats. Jeremy Taylor, after
submitting to the drudgery of school-keeping in a Welsh village, found
for a while a congenial and charming home at Golden Grove. There--to
use some of his own richly-coloured words--as the highest branches of
the wood stooped, and made a smooth path for the winds on the top of
all its glories--and as the sun so gloriously opened the little eye of
heaven and sent away the spirits of darkness, and called up the lark to
matins, and gilded the fringes of a cloud, and wept great and little
showers; and as the images of the trees hung over the water, and were
reflected from the bottom, and as the lark rose from his bed of grass,
and climbed above the clouds, and was beaten back with the loud sighing
of an eastern wind--the great poet-preacher gathered images for his
discourses. And again, as he heard the faint echo of a distant valley,
and watched the little bee that feeds on dew, and pried into the ivy
creeping at the foot of the oak, he found lessons of instructive
piety to delight mankind. Looking at what Taylor there worked up into
his marvellous imagination, it may be truly said, "the gold of that
land was good;" but his temporary sojourn in a paradise-like retreat
was followed by imprisonment in Chepstow Castle, and afterwards in
the Tower of London, in consequence of incautious language which
he used in reference to his Puritan oppressors, and because of a
"superstitious" engraving of our Saviour at prayer, prefixed by his
publisher to the "Collection of Offices." Taylor's theology, which
was surpassed by his eloquence, brought him into trouble with the
calmer and more careful Divines of his own Church, as well as with the
Presbyterians; his "Treatise on Repentance" drawing tears from the
eyes of Sanderson, who complained that his friend was pulling down
the ancient landmarks of the Christian faith. His controversy with
Jeanes, the Presbyterian, proved that Taylor had a quick temper--that
instead of "receiving furies and indiscretions like a stone into a bed
of moss and soft compliances," he could send out angry words like fire
when the flint and steel come into collision. With ruffled temper,
when the controversy was over, he remarked: "I have been so pushed at
by herds and flocks of people that follow anybody that whistles to
them, or drives them to pasture, that I am grown afraid of any truth
that seems chargeable with singularity;" and thus it appears that
he had to pay the penalty of unpopularity and opposition, which all
men must pay who, whether right or wrong, venture to differ from the
theological opinions of their brethren. In a nobler and sweeter tone he
confessed, when the wings of his spirit were smoothed once more: "For
my part I have learned to humble myself, and to adore the inscrutable
paths of the Most High. God and truth are still the same, though the
foundations of the world be shaken." And again: "We are reduced to
that religion which no man can forbid--which we can keep in the midst
of a persecution--by which the martyrs in the days of our fathers
went to heaven--that by which we can be servants of God, and receive
the Spirit of Christ, and make use of His comforts, and live in His
love, and in charity with all men, and they that do so cannot perish."
With exquisite delicacy and pathos, Taylor alludes to his poverty in
a letter to Evelyn (1656): "Sir, I know not when I shall be able to
come to London, for our being stripped of the little reliques of our
fortune remaining after the shipwreck leaves us not cordage nor sails
sufficient to bear me thither." Taylor is supposed, but not with any
sufficient foundation, to have at one period held a pastoral charge in
London; certainly he obtained induction to a Lectureship at Lisburn,
in Ireland. Residing at Portmore, in the enjoyment of Lord Conway's
hospitality, he found repeated there some of the charming scenes and
also some of the associations and advantages of Golden Grove. Yet,
again, the great preacher's repose was interrupted by a fanatical
Presbyterian, who informed against him as a dangerous man who used the
sign of the cross in baptism. Writing in 1659-60, Taylor remarks: "I
had been in the worst of our winter weather sent for to Dublin by our
late Anabaptist Commissioners, and found the evil of it so great that
in my going I began to be ill, but in my return had my ill redoubled."
The Restoration found him bringing through the press the _Ductor
Dubitantium_.[339]
[Sidenote: _Sanderson and Hammond._]
Of those who were ejected from the University of Oxford, Sanderson and
Hammond were the most distinguished. Their story is amongst the most
beautiful legends of the age, and their loving intercourse reminds us
of the friendship of Basil and Gregory in far earlier times. As their
lives were entwined round each other, so are their memories. Sanderson
retired to Boothby parish, where he continued to minister according
to Episcopalian rites, only disturbed occasionally by soldiers while
he was reading prayers. They told him how God could be served more
acceptably, and then they enforced their advice by tearing the liturgy
to pieces. A prudent and affectionate Parliamentary friend recommended
him not to be strict in reading all the prayers, "especially if the
soldiers came to watch him," "for which reasons he did vary somewhat
from the strict rules of the rubric." His admiring biographer sets
down the form of confession which, perhaps in consequence of such
advice, was used by this Divine, and it shews what minute variations
were adopted by clergymen in order to evade the ordinance against the
use of the Common Prayer Book.[340] Sanderson preached every Sunday,
solicitously enquiring "what he might do to speak more plainly or more
movingly: whether his extemporary wording might not be a defect, and
the like." He daily read prayers, and the time between doing this and
the hour of dinner he employed in instructing the children of the
family with whom he lived; "observing diligently the little deviations
of their manners, and applying remedies unto them."
After an abortive attempt had been made by some Royalists in the
neighbourhood of Tunbridge to help the King, Hammond, then living
there, felt obliged to remove; and, upon visiting his old tutor, Dr.
Buckner, "in such a habit as that exigence made necessary," he, under
his friend's hospitable roof, though "no valuer of trifles," had so
extraordinary a dream that he could not then despise or ever afterwards
forget it. "He thought himself and a multitude of others to have been
abroad in a bright and cheerful day, when on a sudden there seemed a
separation to be made, and he, with the far less number, to be placed
at a distance from the rest; and then, the clouds gathering, a most
tempestuous storm arose, with thundering and lightnings, with spouts
of impetuous rain, and violent gusts of wind, and whatever else might
add unto a scene of horror, particularly balls of fire, that shot
themselves amongst the ranks of those that stood in the lesser party;
when a gentle whisper seemed to interrupt those other louder noises,
saying: _Be still, and ye shall receive no harm_. Amidst these terrors,
the doctor falling to his prayers, soon after the tempest ceased, and
that well-known cathedral anthem begun, _Come, Lord Jesus, come away_,
with which he awoke. The correspondent event of all which he found
verified signally in the preservation both of himself and his friends
in doing of their duties; the which with much content he was used to
mention. Beside, being himself taken to the choir of angels at the
close of that land-hurricane of ours, whereof that dismal apparition
was only a faint emblem, he gave thereby too literal a completion to
his dream, and the unhappy credit of bordering upon prophecy."[341]
[Sidenote: _Sanderson._]
Hammond went to see Sanderson at Boothby, when Hammond persuaded him
to attempt the practice of _memoriter_ preaching. Early on a Sunday
morning, they walked to a neighbouring church, where the minister
requested the favour of a sermon. Sanderson entered the pulpit, having
previously put the MS. of the discourse, which he had committed to
memory, into his friend's hands. The effort to preach in this way
turned out a humiliating failure. The preacher, before he had delivered
the third part of what he meant to say, became very confused, and "so
lost as to the matter," that his learned auditor was frightened, and
many of the village congregation discovered that there was something
wrong. "Good doctor," said Sanderson, as they were returning home,
"give me my sermon, and know that neither you nor any man living, shall
ever persuade me to preach again without my books." "Good doctor,"
returned the other, "be not angry; for if I persuade you to preach
again without book, I will give you leave to burn all those that I am
master of."[342]
Another interesting glimpse of Sanderson is caught in "Walton's Lives."
When he came up to London in 1655, the worthy angler met him near
Little Britain, "in sad-coloured clothes--far from being costly." One
can see the noble countenance of the man--with his lofty forehead, fine
regular features, full round eyes, white moustache, and trimly-peaked
beard;--only he was now dressed in lay attire, and that of a very
humble kind, instead of appearing, as in his portrait, with surplice,
scarf, and college cap. It was raining at the time, and he and Walton
turned aside to gossip under a pent-house; when, the wind driving in
their faces, they adjourned to "a cleanly house," where they had bread,
cheese, ale, and a fire for their money. Their conversation naturally
turned upon the Church; and Sanderson bewailed the abolishing of the
Prayer Book and the use of extempore prayer, pronouncing the Collects
"the most passionate, proper, and most elegant expressions that any
language ever afforded." The Liturgy, the Psalms, and the language
of devotion, he complained, had been exchanged for needless debates
about free-will, election, and reprobation. Such lamentations no doubt
formed the staple of much table-talk amongst the class to which the
ejected Oxonian belonged; and in the contempt poured upon extempore
prayer he manifested the onesidedness of Episcopalian prejudices. He
and his opponents were not in a position to regard fairly each other's
methods of devotion. Mutual war had exasperated the passions, so as to
produce in both a stone-blindness to that which was good beyond their
own narrow enclosures. The same tone of prejudice also led Sanderson to
point at Puritanism another shaft--which larger acquaintance with human
nature, and a deeper sense of justice, will lead the moral censor,
with a slight modification of phraseology, to apply to hypocrites of
all sects. They thought, said the Anglican Churchman, that "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." The writer
and other clear-headed men besides him did not see, that after all,
the charge of hypocrisy applies, not to the thoroughly honest, though
fanatical Puritan of the Commonwealth, but to all such persons as
for awhile assumed the livery of a sect for their own selfish ends:
amongst whom were many who a few years afterwards declared, that
they had been Episcopalian in heart throughout the whole period, and
had only "submitted to the times." Curious, too, is it to find this
distinguished man, at the end of his interesting conversation with
Walton, starting the idea, that the way to restore the country to a
more meek and Christian temper was to prepare a body of Church divinity
in fifty-two homilies, each to be of such length as not to exceed a
quarter of an hour or twenty minutes' reading.[343] Melancholy it is to
learn that this scholar and Divine, in the year 1658, was in so low a
condition as to be glad to receive £50 as a present from Dr. Barlow.
[Sidenote: _Hammond's Letters._]
Sanderson's friend, Dr. Hammond, wins our heart at once, as we hear him
say: "He delighted to be loved, not reverenced," and he excites our
veneration, too, as he exclaims, with vehemence: "Oh! what a glorious
thing, how rich a prize for the expense of a man's whole life, were
it to be the instrument of rescuing one soul!" He lived with a family
in which he acted as chaplain, when Cromwell's intolerant decree of
1655 disturbed his peace. Roused to righteous indignation, he wrote
his "Parænesis," in which "he resented with the highest passion" the
Protector's edict; at the same time he looked, as he says, upon this
dispensation of Providence as if God pronounced him unworthy to do
any service, and as if He reproached him of former unprofitableness,
by casting him out now like straw upon a dunghill. Hammond being
one who made the best of circumstances--saying, with Epictetus,
"that everything has two handles: if the one prove hot, and not to
be touched, we may take the other that is more temperate"--always
advocated quiet submission to Providence during what he considered to
be afflictive times.[344]
[Sidenote: _Hammond's Letters._]
Several of his letters are preserved in the British Museum. In one of
these, addressed to Sheldon, afterwards Bishop of London, so early as
October the 14th, 1649, he remarks, respecting his friend: "I think,
when I saw Dr. S[anderson] last, certainly he told me he used the
Common Prayer, otherwise I wonder not that he that disuses it, should
think fit to go to their churches that do omit it. When you meet with
him, endeavour to infuse some courage into him, the want of which
may betray his reason. His opinion expressed will betray many."[345]
The method pursued by Sanderson, of using the Liturgy with verbal
alterations, so as to give the appearance of not adopting it, when
he employed it in substance, displeased and perplexed some of his
episcopal acquaintance; but beyond this--as it appears from another
letter by Hammond--his companion once thought of becoming associated
in public religious ministrations "with the Grantham Lecturers." To do
such a thing, Hammond, altogether a stiffer Churchman than Sanderson,
regarded as illegal--as not allowed by the authority of the Bishop, who
was still alive, and might be consulted--as countenancing schismatics,
and therefore an act of schism--and as not right, even if the end were
good. The rest of the letter is so indicative of the temper of the best
High Churchmen in those days, that it deserves to be quoted at length.
"I cannot believe that the end, by your letter mentioned, is good for
to sweeten them by complying with them in schismatical acts; and making
them believe themselves pardonable, whilst they continue and remain
unreformed in their schism, is to confirm them in their course and so
to scandalize them as well as others, to put a stumbling-block in their
way to reformation. Certainly the greater charity to those moderate
reformable Presbyters were to assist, and hasten the perfecting of
their repentance, and renouncing of their erroneous practices, and
then if the Bishop give leave to Dr. Sa[nderson] to erect some other
lecture, they will sure come and combine with him. And for those that
mean not this, 'tis certain that they are not to be persuaded, that
if the laws regain their power, they shall be tolerated (their way
being so unreconcilable with Prelacy), and as certain that instead of
serving Dr. Sanderson's end they desire to serve themselves of him,
and by his presence and joining with them, to have him thought such
as they--and so hath Mr. Baxter already divided the Prelatical Clergy
into two parts, one exemplified by Dr. Ussher and Dr. Sanderson; the
other styled, in gross, Cassandrian, Grotian Papists; and several of
his friends marked out by some circumstances to be of that number.
Lastly, he may do well to consider whether, if from writing for the
Engagement first and then the laying aside the Liturgy, he proceed
farther to this, it will not be after more easy to superstruct on these
beginnings more suitable practices than it hath been to reconcile these
to his former writings [and?] persuasions. And whether, on the other
side, this be not a season much better for him to appear in upholding
the truth by answering the London Presbyters' vindication (in sixty
sheets shortly coming out) of their government ordination, &c., than
to seem (a person of such authority) to consent to it by practising
with them."[346] From this communication it appears how strongly
such men as Hammond opposed the idea of any scheme of ecclesiastical
comprehension--how determined they were to maintain the exclusive
system of the Episcopal Church, and how honestly they did so, when by
relaxing a little the bonds so strictly drawn, they might have gained
some freedom for themselves. Their integrity in that respect deserves
credit, but it also shews how hopeless was any idea of union between
Episcopalians and Presbyterians after the Restoration, when men who
were really so good were also so narrow-minded.
Another epistle from the same pen presents the writer under another
aspect. Zealous for the preservation of Episcopacy, he proposed to
contribute munificently to a fund for the support of learned persons
who might advance its interests. The proposal was addressed to Sheldon,
who had been ejected from All Souls, when Hammond had suffered
expulsion from his Professorship. "Let me mention to you an hasty
undigested fancy of mine suggested to me by reading the conclusion
of Bishop Bramhall's excellent book of schism, pages 276, 277. It is
this: What if you and Dr. Henchman and I should endeavour to raise
£600 per annum (each of us gaining subscriptions for £200) for seven
years, to maintain a society of twenty exiled scholars; and, when we
discern the thing feasible, communicate it to Bishop Bramhall, and
require of him a catalogue of twenty such, whose wants and desires of
such a recess, in some convenient place (by him to be thought of also)
might make it a fit charity to recommend to pious persons? Next, if
this be not unreasonable to be endeavoured, then, tell me whether it
must be privately carried or may be publicly avowed, and what else you
can think of to perfect and form this sudden rude conceit? which, when
I have also communicated to Dr. Henchman, I shall be content to be
laughed at by either of you."[347]
[Sidenote: _Hammond's Death._]
Dr. Hammond died before the Restoration. His patience during his last
sufferings, which were extremely great, his reliance upon Jesus Christ
as the Saviour of sinners, his humility and thankfulness, and his dying
words, "Lord make haste," are duly recorded by his biographer Fell.
But, as some additional information respecting his disease, and the
temper in which he bore it, is supplied by a letter of his widow, we
venture to introduce it here:--"It is my great misfortune I neither can
send to you as I would, nor hear from you as I desire, for sometimes my
friend is not here when your letters come, then they are delivered to
him, wheresoever he is, which many times makes it very long before I
can return an answer; but now my long silence was occasioned by my dear
husband's sickness and death, which, though my loss was very great,
yet, when I consider God's mercy was so infinitely shewed both to him
and me, giving us, first, many years of comfort together and life to
a very great age, and then a gentle correction to bring him home to
Him, and gave him the comfort of his children about him, and be a great
comfort and example to them of patience and humility, submitting to
God's will in all. Indeed, I cannot say he had better health at any
time, since we came into these parts, than he had the last very hard
winter; overcoming it with so much life and spirit, I believed he
might have lived some years more, till this accident happened upon
him, which proved an ulcer under his tongue. At first I thought little
of it, neither did he much complain, I used such means as I had, and
thought good for that purpose, but he still continued ill; then we had
a surgeon at least two months in hand, making no difficulty at all of
healing of it; but I, seeing it continue so long and no change to the
better, I desired him to deal plainly with me, and what his opinion
was. He told me, he [could] see now he must use sharper medicines to
it, and cornise, (_sic_, cauterize?) which I would not suffer without
better advice. My son sent us a very excellent surgeon, and a very
honest man. As soon as he looked on it, gave me little comfort by
reason of my husband's age, but approved of what I had done and gave
me further directions what to do; and said no violence must he use to
it, for he feared, as the summer came on, it would grow worse, which,
indeed, it did, and eat till all his teeth came out on that side, which
was a great disheartening to him; but I comforted him as well as I
could, though I much feared his tongue would have been eaten out if
he had continued long, which would have made his life unpleasant to
him, and a great grief to all his friends about him; but my gracious
God was very merciful to both him and me, for having prepared him with
great patience and humility to submit either to life or death, and
with St. Paul to say, that death was gain. Our great God kept us from
want, and gave us the comfort of our children about us, and that good
man, as you say, which indeed hath been a great comfort to me in all
my afflictions. My many years tell me I shall not be long after him;
I pray God I may follow his good example, and then we shall meet in
perfect joy together. My good friend would not give me the discomfort
of your sickness till he heard you were past danger, though I had
many times enquired of him, when he heard from you, but told me he
did not use to hear from you. I do give God most hearty thanks for
your recovery, and do daily pray that He, in His infinite mercy, will
continue good people amongst us for our example, that we may be fit for
His mercy. Within this three weeks I have received your bounty, but no
letter which would give me great satisfaction of your health, which I
daily pray for. Excuse this long scribbled letter, and make me happy
with a line from you."[348]
[Sidenote: _Thorndike._]
Another learned Anglo-Catholic Divine requires attention on his own
account, and in consequence of his disapproval of such conciliatory
methods as were favoured by the more truly Catholic Episcopalian
Sanderson. Herbert Thorndike, whose erudition did honour to Cambridge,
was ejected first from Barley, in Hertfordshire, and then from his
Fellowship at Trinity College. His name occurs in the list of those who
were relieved by the beneficence of Lord Scudamore, and also amongst
the friends of Walton engaged upon the great polyglott.[349] With a
logical mind, which was eminently fitted for systematizing opinions,
he had worked out Anglo-Catholic principles into a complete scheme of
theology. His central point was that "the title of our salvation is
the covenant of baptism, whereby we undertake to profess Christianity
and to live according to it, in despite of the devil and all his
works;"[350] and this view he urges incessantly in his writings
against the Puritan doctrine of justification by faith. Episcopal
order, and the use of the Prayer Book, without even the slightest
alteration, found in Thorndike a most zealous defender; and, it may
be inferred from such a circumstance, that the Puritans had not a
more steady and determined opponent than this able man. He could not
understand them. Their doctrinal views, as seen through his prejudices,
seemed to be of an antinomian nature, whilst their ecclesiastical
proceedings, judged of with the same unfairness, were denounced as
schismatical and as utterly subversive of all Church order. Hence
he condemned Sanderson's practice of altering the prayers; arguing
that though force might make him omit what he was ecclesiastically
commanded, it could not make him do what he was ecclesiastically
forbidden.[351] Thorndike was made of such stern, tough stuff, that
he revolted from all mere politic measures, and from all attempts at
compromise. He never asked what was expedient, but only what was right;
yet also he deemed trimming to be as unwise as it was wrong, and he
maintained that not to omit a word of the service would be as safe as
the method adopted by Sanderson. He advised that when the whole Liturgy
could not be read, as much of it should be used as possible without
any alteration.[352] One of his papers, dated 1656, preserved in the
Westminster Chapter Library, contains an argument against communicating
with the Presbyterian or other sects: most uncharitably and unjustly
he inferred--from their doctrine of justification by faith, which
he quite misunderstood--that they could not "think themselves tied
to live as Christians," or, as he added, to repent and return to
that Christianity which they had forfeited. And beside this--fearing
that the sects would swallow up the Church, which they had broken
in pieces--he warned Churchmen against in any way owning Puritan
teachers or frequenting Puritan sermons, whatever danger there might
be of temporal penalties in pursuing a different path, or whatever
"difficulty of finding what course to take."[353]
[Sidenote: _Evelyn's Diary._]
As to the inner life of persecuted Episcopalianism, "Evelyn's Diary"
affords information beyond, perhaps, any other contemporary production.
A sequestered and learned minister preached in Evelyn's parlour and
administered the blessed sacrament, when, according to Episcopal usage,
it was "wholly out of use in the parish churches." He heard once the
Common Prayer read[354] ("a rare thing in those days") in St. Peter's,
at Paul's Wharf, London; and in the morning of the same day he listened
to the preaching of "the Archbishop of Armagh--that pious person and
learned man, Ussher--in Lincoln's Inn Chapel." On a Christmas day there
was no sermon anywhere, no church being permitted to be open, so the
diarist observed it at home. The next day he went to Lewisham, where
"an honest Divine delivered a discourse."[355]
Now and then an "honest orthodox man" ascended the pulpit of Evelyn's
parish church, and although the Incumbent was "somewhat of the
Independent," yet "he ordinarily preached sound doctrine and was a
peaceable man, which was an extraordinary felicity in that age." Once
Evelyn heard a person who "had been both chaplain and lieutenant to
Admiral Penn, and who thus, as he says, used "both swords."[356]
Repeatedly notices occur in the "Diary" of neglected festivals, and
of private preachings and communions; and he indicates his caution
no less than his zeal, by stating that his only reason for going to
church whilst these "usurpers" possessed the pulpits was, that he
might not be suspected of being a Papist. He felt the wholesome uses
of adversity, and states--after alluding to Dr. Wild as preaching
in a private house in Fleet Street--that the zealous Christians who
gathered together there were much more religious and devout than they
had ever been in times of prosperity. He notes down the circumstance,
that on Christmas day, 1657, at the conclusion of a sermon by Mr.
Gunning, in Exeter Chapel, the building was surrounded by soldiers,
and the communicants were kept inside as prisoners. Evelyn himself had
his place of confinement in the mansion to which the chapel belonged;
but was allowed to dine with the noble master of it, the Countess of
Dorset, Lady Hatton, and others. Some of Oliver's colonels came in
the afternoon to enquire into the matter, and they asked the Royalist
churchman why he durst offend against the ordinances of Parliament.
It appears from his answer that the name of "King Charles" had been
omitted from the service, and that supplications of a general kind
were offered on behalf of kings and princes. At the conclusion of the
account, however, the diarist acknowledges that the soldiers after all,
did not really interrupt the worship, but only held up their muskets
"_as if_" he says, "_they_ would have shot us at the altar, but yet
suffering _us to finish_ the office of communion."[357]
Such was the case in London. In the country an instance
occurred--perhaps only representing several of the same kind--of a
public defiance of the law. In the year 1658, as John Wilson, a cloth
merchant of Leeds, kinsman of Bishop Wilson's father, was walking
through the streets he met the Vicar and said to him: "When shall we
have Divine service again in Leeds Old Church?" The Vicar replied:
"Whenever Mr. Wilson will protect me in the discharge of my duty."
"Then," he rejoined, "by the grace of God it shall be next Sunday."
Accordingly, on that day the bells rang as in the days before the wars,
for morning prayers, and a large congregation was gathered together.
In the centre aisle stood Mr. Wilson, with a great number of persons
drawn up as if to protect the Vicar. News of this occurrence soon
reached London, and an order came down for the imprisonment of the bold
violator of Parliamentary ordinances; but before his trial could take
place Oliver Cromwell died.[358]
[Sidenote: _Episcopalians._]
Mention has been already made of a practice, adopted by some Anglicans,
of using parts of the Prayer Book with less or more of alteration.
But besides this method another appears to have been proposed, if
not actually adopted. There lies before us, at the moment of writing
these lines, a little volume in manuscript,[359] evidently intended
to be read by Episcopalian Churchmen in their worship during the
Commonwealth. It neither exactly follows the order, nor does it, except
in a very few instances, adopt the phraseology of the Common Prayer. "A
Prayer preparatory to the holy Sacrament" appears upon the first page,
followed by "A Meditation when we come to the holy table"--meant no
doubt for private use; and next to it there follows that which appears
to be the opening of a service of social worship. It commences with
a long series of confessions, including this remarkable one:--"Not
observing the times of festivity or fasting appointed by just authority
according to the example of Thy people in all ages." After each article
of confession there occur the words: "O Lord! righteousness belongs
unto Thee, but unto us confusion of face, as at this day." "The form
of absolution, to be pronounced by the priest only," is expressed in
the following terms:--"Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, who of His
great mercy hath promised forgiveness of sins to all them that with
hearty repentance and true faith turn unto Him, have mercy upon you,
pardon and deliver you from all your sins, confirm and strengthen you
in all goodness, and bring you to everlasting salvation, both of body
and soul, through Jesus Christ our Lord." Next to the absolution is
the Lord's Prayer; and next to the Lord's Prayer are brief petitions
associated with it--the same as are found in the like portion of the
"Order for Morning and Evening Prayer" in the Church of England
service at the present day. Lamentations respecting the Church and the
nation are inserted; after which the first lesson is directed to be
read;[360] then comes "A Form collected out of the Psalms," in which
the people respond to the priest. There succeed three prayers; the
first two confessing sins, and imploring mercy, the third interceding
for the son of Charles I. There are also prayers for the clergy, for
the enemies of the Church, and for the removal of the anger of God
from His afflicted people. The service ends with the benediction.
"A Prayer to be said during these troubles;" "A Confession of God's
justice in His punishments, and A Deprecation of His judgments;" and "A
Prayer for the 30th of January," conclude the volume. From the second
of these forms we extract the following passage:--"Arise, O arm of
the Lord, and put on strength, let not man have the upper hand, let
not the mischievous imaginations of our enemies prosper, lest they
be too proud. But now Thou hast frustrated all our worldly hopes and
affiances, take the matter we beseech Thee into Thine own hands, and
by what means it pleaseth Thee, put a period to our wasting miseries,
that these lands may no longer be rent and torn asunder by their own
children, and thus made drunk with the blood of their own inhabitants.
Bring into Thy way of truth all such as offend through ignorance,
mollify the hard-hearted, be merciful to all that offend not of
malicious wickedness, but let Thy exemplary judgments be upon such as
will not turn nor fear God, and be a means for the speedier conversion
of the rest. O God of all order and peace, and yet makest men to be
of one mind in an house, turn the hearts of the people of these lands
to their God, to Thy servant our King, one to another, make up our
breaches, heal our wounds, compose our divisions, bring all things
again into a right frame among us, both in Church and State, and knit
us again together in the unity of the Spirit and in the bond of peace.
Arise and help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of Thy name;
help us in these our great extremities in this most needful time of
trouble, for Thy promise' sake, for Thy mercies' sake, for Thy Son
Christ Jesus' sake, to whom with Thee and the Holy Ghost be all glory
and praise now and for ever."
[Sidenote: _Episcopalians._]
Thus the proscribed and suffering children of the Episcopal Church,
forbidden to use the ancient prayers so dear to their affections,
prepared for themselves new ones, in which they expressed their
patriotism and their loyalty. The latter sentiment is conspicuous in
these original offices--indeed it had become a perfect passion in the
breasts of the Episcopalians. Whatever doubts some might have formerly
felt as to the wisdom of the proceedings of Charles the First, they now
almost all regarded him as a martyr for Episcopacy; so that, as they
engaged in their devotions, the crimson-stained shadow of the departed
monarch rose before their eyes with a touching solemnity and religious
reverence for his memory blended with their remembered allegiance to
his crown. Thorough legitimists, they now esteemed that crown the
property of his eldest son. All Republicans, all Commonwealth men, all
who dared to uphold the rights of Parliament or of a Protector against
the rights of kings, were to them no better than rebels. Whereas the
loyalty of some persons rested on their religion, the religion of many
more rested on their loyalty. They cared very little, if at all, about
ecclesiastical and spiritual questions. They simply believed that King
Charles had died for the Church of England, and that, as loyal men,
they ought to love it for King Charles' sake. The religion of many
of them was merely a feeling of that description. Sufferings in the
cause--as is always the case--endeared the cause to the sufferers. They
had lost their relatives in battle; they felt twinges in their old
wounds when the weather changed; Naseby and Marston Moor were names to
them full of anguish. They had endured confiscation, imprisonment, and
bonds. One could tell how he had carried packets to the Queen at the
risk of his life; a second how he had lost his eyes and his arms in
the King's service; a third how he had been tossed and tumbled up and
down, and was tried eleven times for his life, and how he was brought
to the foot of the gallows, and yet after all escaped with his life;
and a fourth, how he had lost £2,000, had been turned out of doors,
had been burnt with matches, and carried to Worcester, and kept there
under guard, whence he had fled, had been obliged to take to trees for
a hiding place in the day time, and then to travel all night, had been
caught and sent to the gatehouse, and sentenced to be shot, and had
then got out of prison during sermon time, and lived three weeks in
an enemy's haymow, and limped on crutches to Bristol, and so escaped.
The widows of soldiers, too, talked of being plundered, stripped, and
whipped, of their banished children, and of their own poverty and
hardships; in all which stories, though there might be not a little
exaggeration, there was also not a little truth.[361]
[Sidenote: _Episcopalian Loyalty._]
The loyalty of these persons, as we have said, is prominently exhibited
in the little Prayer Book before us; and from its pages we quote the
following remarkable petitions for Prince Charles:--
"O blessed Lord God, who hast in Thy fatherly care and goodness taken
our late gracious Sovereign into Thy peace, and left the inheritance
of his throne and sceptre to his firstborn, we beseech Thee to
prepare and instruct him for so high and so weighty a calling. Be
Thou pleased, out of the riches of Thy treasure, to pour Thy wisdom
into his heart, to command that double portion of his father's spirit
to rest upon him--the head of Solomon and the heart of David--and
withal the meekness and true Christian charity, the inward calmness,
and placability of spirit, that may arm him thoroughly against all
the provocations of an unthankful people; that he may come and reign
amongst us, as a tender compassionate father of all his kingdoms,
carry them, as Moses did Thy people, in his arms, from a desert to
Canaan, and go in and out before them with that conduct which Thy
pillar of fire and cloud afforded them. Lord, be Thou his light and
his guide, his counsellor and protector, his shield and his exceeding
great reward; keep him from all the designs of the enemies of his and
our peace; preserve him as the apple of thine own eyes; and because
of the great strait and difficulties which are now before him, the
obstructions which none but Thine especial interposition can remove,
Lord, fasten his heart, and the eyes and hearts of all his counsellors
steadfastly and unanimously upon Thee, to keep close to Thy ways and
rule, and be Thou continually assistant to them, that without the
effusion of any more blood, if it be Thy sacred will, he may attain to
a peaceable possession and establishment in his inheritance; erect his
throne in the hearts and loyal affections of his people; give them all
a thorough sight of the great errors of their former ways, and sincere
endeavour to approve their fidelity to him whom Thou hast set over
us. Unite us all at length in the Christian bond of peace and love,
in the practice and power of all godliness, that being by this last
astonishing cup, added to so many former punishments, made inwardly
sensible of Thine anger for this unnatural division, we may all at
length be reduced to our bounden obedience, to the glory of Thy sacred
name, the vindication of our defamed religion, the comfort of our King,
and the happiness and restoration of these languishing kingdoms; and
confirm all this to us, O Lord, in the bowels of Thine own mercy, to a
sinful people, through the mediation of Thine own dear Son Jesus Christ
our Lord. Amen."
[Sidenote: _Episcopalian Loyalty._]
There is no doubt a great deal to admire in these expressions of
attachment to the old regal rule of England, and in these supplications
for him whom the Episcopalians could not fail to regard as heir to the
throne; but then, on the other hand, no one can shut his eyes to the
fact that these persons, precisely to the same degree in which they
evinced their devotion to monarchy now abolished, and their love for
the Stuart dynasty now exiled, shewed themselves to be disaffected
subjects of the existing Government--rebels, in short, against the
Republic and the Protectorate. Unquestionably they formed a very
dangerous class. Their religion, and their holiest services, were
identified with the strongest desires for a revolution. They believed
that the overthrow of the powers of the State was essential to the
restored prosperity of their Church. No doubt the righteous course
of the supreme authority in England at that time would have been to
separate what had become entangled; and whilst consistently forbidding
such worship as was instinct with the spirit of treason, justly to
concede full toleration for such worship as was simply Episcopalian.
But, looking at human nature, and at the exasperation of men's feelings
in those days, such clear discrimination and such calm equity are much
more than could be expected; and therefore whilst we decidedly condemn
the intolerance of forbidding the use of the Prayer Book altogether,
we are bound to recognize--as some excuse for the Commonwealth Rulers,
or, at least, as a fact claiming some mitigation of our censures of
their conduct--the political position of the Episcopalians, assumed
either by their continued use of the old royalistic formularies, or
by their adoption of new ones even stronger and more revolutionary in
their place. It is also only fair to recollect what large provocations
the Puritans had received only a few years earlier from persons of this
very class when they were in the ascendant; as well as to remember what
provocation the rulers of the country still met with from persons of
the same class who were known to be actually engaged in plots for their
overthrow. And after all, the pressure put upon the Episcopal party
in the darkest hour of their history under the Commonwealth is not to
be compared, as it respects violence on the one side and suffering on
the other, with what was inflicted by Churchmen, and experienced by
Nonconformists, under Charles the First and Charles the Second.[362]
Nor is there any resemblance between the amount of persecution
endured by the disciples of Prelacy at the period under review, and
the amount of sorrow and pain which was then borne by another class of
Christians whose history will be unfolded in the following chapter.
[Illustration]