Sometimes, by the shore of a lake, the eye catches prismatic effects
upon the ripples, as if chains and rings of gold, and green, and
crimson, were thickly scattered in fragments over the surface,
whilst weeds lie plain enough beneath, covering the bottom of
the mountain-girdled waters. Little creations and images of the
glorious light above are those ripples; and no unapt illustration
do they afford of the varieties of spiritual life in this lower
world; for all these varieties are really reflections of the Sun of
Righteousness--reflections manifold, always imperfect and sometimes
confused, and ever found with the weeds of fallen humanity growing
underneath them.
The religious history of the Commonwealth abounds in specimens of such
varieties: we proceed to furnish further instances of these, not only
from Anglo-Catholic and Puritan biographies, but from others in which
there is the absence of either peculiarity, or a blending of the two.
[Sidenote: _George Herbert._]
Amidst the Civil Wars, and under the ascendancy of Presbyterianism,
there could no longer be the same kind of pastoral care as that which
threw such an air of saintliness over Bemerton rectory. The "country
parson" could no more use the Prayer Book and keep Church festivals.
Daily worship had ceased, such as George Herbert loved to attend,
at the canonical hours of ten and four, when "he lifted up pure and
charitable hands to God in the midst of the congregation." There could
no longer assemble in public twice a day, an Anglican congregation,
composed of parishioners and gentlemen of the neighbourhood. An end
had also come to the usage described by Isaac Walton: "Some of the
meaner sort of his parish did so love and reverence Mr. Herbert, that
they would let their plough rest, when Mr. Herbert's saint's-bell rung
to prayers, that they might also offer their devotions to God with
him, and would then return back to their plough." Yet throughout the
Commonwealth era the lofty devotion of the poet-priest--albeit touched
with asceticism and other weaknesses--continued to beat in many hearts,
and to inspire the concealed use of ancient formularies.
Never was anything more beautiful than Herbert's dying confession: "I
now look back upon the pleasures of my life past, and see the content
I have taken in beauty, in wit, in music, and pleasant conversation,
are now all past by me like a dream, or as a shadow that returns not,
and are now all become dead to me, or I to them; and I see, that as
my father and generation hath done before me, so I also shall now
suddenly (with Job) make my bed also in the dark; and I praise God I am
prepared for it; and I praise Him that I am not to learn patience now
I stand in such need of it; and that I have practised mortification,
and endeavoured to die daily, that I might not die eternally! and my
hope is that I shall shortly leave this valley of tears, and be free
from all fevers and pain; and, which will be a more happy condition,
I shall be free from sin, and all the temptations and anxieties that
attend it; and this being past, I shall dwell in the New Jerusalem;
dwell there with men made perfect; dwell where these eyes shall see my
Master and Saviour Jesus; and with Him see my dear mother and all my
relations and friends. But I must die, or not come to that happy place.
And this is my content, that I am going daily towards it; and that
every day which I have lived hath taken a part of my appointed time
from me, and that I shall live the less time for having lived this and
the day past."
Such words were not theatrically uttered; they simply expressed the
life which the good man had really lived--a life which was in truth a
continued Sunday, answering to what he played and sung in those last
hours.
"The Sundays of man's life
Threaded together on time's string,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the eternal, glorious King.
On Sundays, heaven's door stands ope,
Blessings are plentiful and rife--
More plentiful than hope."
Punctilious about forms, yet no formalist--thinking much of Lent,
Ember weeks, and Church rites, yet not to the neglect of spiritual
religion--and loving his parish as he loved his relatives, Herbert of
course deemed Nonconformists to be interlopers. Yet, what Nonconformist
will not forgive him the harshness of his judgment, considering the
purity of his spirit, and the elevation of his soul, and how he did
all things for the Master's honour? This cast of sentiment repeated
itself in many devout Anglicans, who in a measure conformed to
ecclesiastical changes, or resolutely suffered loss for conscience'
sake. Nor was sympathy with the tone of Herbert's hymns wanting even
amongst contemporary Puritans. Baxter said: "I must confess after all,
that next to the Scripture poems, there are none so savoury to me as
Mr. George Herbert's. I know that Cowley and others far excel Herbert
in wit and accurate composure; but, as Seneca takes with me above all
his contemporaries, because he speaketh things by words, feelingly and
seriously, like a man that is past jest, so Herbert speaks to God, like
a man that really believeth in God, and whose business in the world is
most with God--heart-work and heaven-work make up his books."[445] Thus
it was that under diverse forms of polity and worship holy chords in
those two hearts vibrated in unison with each other.
[Sidenote: _Hammond._]
Dr. Hammond's piety, elsewhere illustrated in this work, is largely
extolled by his biographer.[446] His devotional habits, which were
characteristic of the age, are particularly recorded. "As soon as he
was ready (which was usually early), he prayed in his chamber with his
servant, in a peculiar form composed for that purpose; after this he
retired to his own more secret devotions in his closet. Betwixt ten and
eleven in the morning, he had a solemn intercession in reference to
the national calamities; to this, after a little distance, succeeded
the morning office of the Church, which he particularly desired to
perform in his own person, and would by no means accept the ease of
having it read by any other. In the afternoon he had another hour
of private prayer, which on Sundays he enlarged, and so religiously
observed, that if any necessary business or charity had diverted him
at the usual time, he repaired his soul at the cost of his body; and,
notwithstanding the injunctions of his physicians, which in other cases
he was careful to obey, spent the suppertime therein. About five
o'clock the solemn private prayers for the nation, and the evening
service of the Church returned. At bed-time his private prayers closed
the day; and, after all, even the night was not without its office, the
51st Psalm being his designed midnight entertainment."
Thomas Fuller, already so often noticed, had nothing of the poetical
pensiveness of Herbert, nothing of that unearthly tone of thought
which was so real in the Salisbury canon, nothing either of the High
Churchmanship of Dr. Hammond, yet he cordially loved the Church of
England. Moderate, orthodox, and Catholic, he allowed to others the
liberty which he claimed for himself, whilst he bewailed the divisions
of the times in which he lived, not as many did, because he wanted all
to think like him, but because he saw that men would not peaceably
allow one another to exercise the right of private judgment. The piety
of Fuller was that of thorough conscientiousness, so well expressed
by himself when he told the Triers "he could appeal to the Searcher
of Hearts that he made a conscience of his very thoughts." With his
conscientiousness--which really seemed to cover the whole field of
evangelical and practical religion--there was associated the faculty of
_wit_, which gave even to his religion a character of humour. In his
book on the Holy State, he says of the "Faithful minister," "he will
not use a light comparison to make thereof a grave application, for
fear lest his poison go further than his antidote"; but, he himself
adds, "that fork must have strong tines wherewith one would thrust
out nature." In that very chapter, animadverting on affected gravity,
he remarks: "when one shall use the preface of a mile to bring in a
furlong of matter, set his face and speech in a frame--and to make
men believe it is some precious liquor, their words come out drop by
drop--such men's vizards do sometimes fall from them not without the
laughter of the beholders. One was called '_gravity_,' for his affected
solemnness, who, afterwards, being catched in a light prank, was ever
after, to the day of his death, called 'gravity-levity.'" Fuller
could not help being humorous. He could not tell the most mournful
story without enlivening it with some sort of sally; but religion so
influenced him that he never indulged in ill-natured satire--never
raised a blister on the skin by the touch of a scorching sarcasm. With
such a temperament, added to unfeigned piety and unfeigned benevolence,
"it was as natural that he should be full of good-tempered mirth as
it is for the grasshopper to chirp, or the bee to hum, or the birds
to warble in the spring breeze and the bright sunshine. His very
physiognomy was an index to his natural character. As described by his
contemporaries, he had light flaxen hair, bright blue and laughing
eyes, a frank and open visage."[447] And if any one will take the
trouble to compare the portraits of Herbert and Fuller, he must confess
that Herbert's gravity would look as foolish in the face of Fuller,
as Fuller's archness would be most unseemly, if it could be forced on
Herbert's sedate countenance.
[Sidenote: _Dalston._]
The character of Sir George Dalston, as given by Jeremy Taylor in
richly coloured words, deserves to be included in any portrait gallery
of his contemporaries. "He was indeed a great lover of, and had a great
regard for, God's ministers, ever remembering the words of God: 'Keep
my rest, and reverence my priests'; he honoured the calling in all,
but he loved and revered the persons of such who were conscientious
keepers of their 'depositum--that trust' which was committed to them;
such which did not for interest quit their conscience, and did not,
to preserve some parts of their revenue, quit some portions of their
religion. He knew that what was true in 1639 was also true in 1644,
and so to '57, and shall continue true to eternal ages; and they that
change their persuasions, by force or interest, did neither behave well
nor ill, upon competent and just grounds; they are not just, though
they happen on the right side. Hope of gain did by chance teach them
well, and fear of loss abuses them directly. He pitied the persecuted;
and never would take part with persecutors; he prayed for his prince,
and served him in what he could; he loved God, and loved the Church; he
was a lover of his country's liberties, and yet an observer of the laws
of his king....
"And now, having divested himself of all objections, and his
conversation with the world, quitting his affections to it, he wholly
gave himself to religion and devotion; he awakened early, and would
presently be entertained with reading; when he rose, still he would
be read to, and hear some of the Psalms of David; and, excepting only
what time he took for the necessities of his life and health, all the
rest he gave to prayer, reading, and meditation, save only that he
did not neglect, nor rudely entertain, the visits and kind offices of
his neighbours. But in this great vacation from the world he espied
his advantages; he knew well, according to that saying of the Emperor
Charles V.--'_Oportet inter vitæ negotia et diem mortis spatium aliquod
intercedere_;' there ought to be a valley between two such mountains,
the businesses of our life and the troubles of our death; and he stayed
not till the noise of the bridegroom's coming did awaken and affright
him; but, by daily prayers twice a day, constantly with his family,
besides the piety and devotion of his own retirements, by a monthly
communion, by weekly sermons, and by the religion of every day, he
stood in precincts, ready with oil in his lamp, watching till his Lord
should call."[448]
[Sidenote: _Quarles._]
The poet Quarles--whose quaint emblems symbolize not only the
quaintness of his piety, but the quaintness of much besides belonging
to his age--suffered as a Royalist and an Episcopalian; and indeed
his death appears to have been hastened by the persecution which he
suffered. The hues of his religious experience are best conveyed by
preserving the phraseology of his devoted widow.[449] "He expressed
great sorrow for his sins, and when it was told him that his friends
conceived he did thereby much harm to himself, he answered: '_They were
not his friends that would not give him leave to be penitent_.' His
exhortations to his friends that came to visit him were most divine;
wishing them _to have a care of the expense of their time, and every
day to call themselves to an account, that so when they came to their
bed of sickness, they might lie upon it with a rejoicing heart_. And,
doubtless, such an one was his, insomuch that he thanked God that
whereas he might justly have expected that his _conscience should look
him in the face like a lion_, it rather looked upon him _like a lamb_;
and that God had forgiven him his sins, and that night sealed him
his pardon; and many other heavenly expressions to the like effect.
I might here add what blessed advice he gave to me in particular,
still to trust in God, whose promise is to provide for the widow and
the fatherless, &c. But this is already imprinted on my heart, and
therefore I shall not need here again to insert it."
Lord Montague may be cited as a specimen of old English piety, apart
from strong ecclesiastical opinions on either side. "Many 'characters'
have been drawn of this stout cavalier. The sum of them all amounts
to this, namely that he was an honest, truthful, and pious man, an
example to his fellow-parishioners by constant attendance at sermons
on Sundays, and at lectures on week days. So long as the truth was
preached old Montague cared not who preached it; and his own chaplain
had no sinecure of it in his house, where that reverend official, on
Sunday afternoons, assembled the servants, and put them through their
catechism. The household was a godly one, though a certain depictor of
it says, rather equivocally, that 'the rudest of his servants feared to
be known to him to be a drunkard, a swearer, or any such lewd liver,
for he cast such out of his service.' This would imply that there was
an assumption of virtue, by which the good lord may have been deceived;
but his serving men and maids are emphatically chronicled as being a
credit and a comfort to him."[450]
[Sidenote: _Sir B. Grenville._]
In the heart of the Royalist camp, and amidst bloodshed on the battle
field, there had been--notwithstanding the prevalent profanity and
licentiousness of the Cavaliers--some strong stirrings of spiritual
life in the hearts of English gentlemen, worthy of that name, of which
a memorial exists in a letter written by John Trelawne, to the Lady
Grace, announcing the death of her honoured lord, Sir Bevill Grenville.
"Honourable Lady,--How can I contain myself or longer conceal my
sorrow for the death of that excellent man, your most dear husband
and my noble friend. Be pleased with your wisdom to consider of the
events of the war, which is seldom or never constant, but as full of
mutability as hazard. And seeing it hath pleased God to take him from
your ladyship, yet this may something appease your great flux of tears,
that he died an honourable death, which all his enemies will envy,
fighting with invincible valour and loyalty the battle of his God, his
King, and country. A greater honour than this no man living can enjoy.
But God hath called him unto Himself to crown him (I doubt not) with
immortal glory for his noble constancy in this blessed cause. It is
too true (most noble lady) that God hath made you drink of a bitter
cup, yet, if you please to submit unto his Divine will and pleasure by
kissing His rod patiently, God (no doubt) hath a staff of consolation
for to comfort you in this great affliction and trial. He will wipe
your eyes, dry up the flowing spring of your tears, and make your bed
easy, and by your patience overcome God's justice by His returning
mercy. Madam, he is gone his journey but a little before us. We must
march after when it shall please God, for your ladyship knows that none
fall without His providence, which is as great in the thickest shower
of bullets as in the bed. I beseech you (dear lady) to pardon this my
trouble and boldness, and the God of heaven bless you and comfort you,
and all my noble cousins in this your great visitation, which shall be
the unfeigned prayers of him that is, most noble Lady,
"Your Ladyship's hon. and humble servant,
"JOHN TRELAWNE.[451]
"Trelawne, 20th July, 1643."
And when the wars were over, and peace had been established, and the
usurper whom they feared was sitting upon the throne, many a Royalist
lady and gentleman would think of their past sorrow and cherish their
hopes of a celestial future in the tone and spirit of this beautiful
epistle.
[Sidenote: _John Evelyn's Son._]
A touching instance of early piety occurred in the family of John
Evelyn, described by the bereaved father in the following terms:
"Illuminations, far exceeding his age and experience, considering the
prettiness of his address and behaviour, cannot but leave impressions
in me at the memory of him. When one told him how many days a Quaker
had fasted, he replied that was no wonder, for Christ had said that
man should not live by bread alone, but by the Word of God. He would
of himself select the most pathetic psalms, and chapters out of Job
to read to his maid during his sickness, telling her, when she pitied
him, that all God's children must suffer affliction. He declaimed
against the vanities of the world before he had seen any. Often he
would desire those who came to see him to pray by him, and a year
before he fell sick, to kneel and pray with him alone in some corner.
How thankfully would he receive admonition! how soon be reconciled!
how indifferent, yet continually cheerful! He would give grave advice
to his brother John, bear with his impertinences, and say he was but
a child. If he heard of or saw any new thing he was unquiet till he
was told how it was made; he brought to us all such difficulties as
he found in books, to be expounded. He had learned by heart divers
sentences in Latin and Greek, which, on occasion, he would produce even
to wonder. He was all life, all prettiness, far from morose, sullen,
or childish, in anything he said or did. The last time he had been at
church (which was at Greenwich), I asked him, according to custom,
what he remembered of the sermon; 'Two good things, father,' said he,
'_bonum gratiæ_, and _bonum gloriæ_!' with a just account of what the
preacher said. The day before he died he called to me, and in a more
serious manner than usual told me that for all I loved him so dearly,
I should give my house, land, and all my fine things to his brother
Jack, he should have none of them; and, the next morning, when he found
himself ill, and that I persuaded him to keep his hands in bed, he
demanded whether he might pray to God with his hands unjoined; and a
little after, whilst in great agony, whether he should not offend God
by using His holy name so often calling for ease. What shall I say of
his frequent pathetical ejaculations uttered of himself: 'Sweet Jesus,
save me, deliver me, pardon my sins, let Thine angels receive me!' So
early knowledge, so much piety and perfection! But thus God, having
dressed up a saint fit for Himself, would not longer permit him with
us, unworthy of the future fruits of this incomparable hopeful blossom.
Such a child I never saw; for such a child I bless God, in whose bosom
he is! May I and mine become as this little child, who now follows the
child Jesus, that Lamb of God, in a white robe, whithersoever He goes;
even so, Lord Jesus, _fiat voluntas tua_! Thou gavest him to us, Thou
hast taken him from us, blessed be the name of the Lord! That I had
anything acceptable to Thee was from Thy grace alone, seeing from me he
had nothing but sin, but that Thou hast pardoned! Blessed be my God for
ever. Amen."[452]
We have already presented several examples of eminent piety in the
lives of Puritan clergymen. To these may be added one more in a passage
from a sermon preached by John Howe on the death of "that faithful and
laborious servant of Christ, Mr. Richard Fairclough."[453]
"The bent of his soul was towards God; I never knew any man under the
more constant governing power of religion, which made it to be his
business both to exercise and diffuse it to his uttermost; he was a
mighty lover of God and men, and being of a lively, active spirit, that
love was his facile, potent mover to the doing even of all the good
that could be thought in an ordinary way, possible to him, and more
than was possible to most other men. To give a true succinct account of
the complexion of his soul--he was even made up of life and love. Such
was the clearness and sincerity of his spirit, his constant uprightness
and integrity, so little darkened by an evil conscience--and indeed
little ever clouded with melancholy fumes--that he seemed to live in
the constant sense of God's favour and acceptance, and had nothing to
do but to serve Him with his might; when his spirit was formed to an
habitual cheerfulness and seemed to feel within itself a continual
calm. So undisturbed a serenity hath, to my observation, rarely been
discernible in any man; nor was his a dull sluggish peace, but vital
and joyous; seldom hath that been more exemplified in any man. 'To
be spiritually minded is life and peace.' Seldom have any lived more
under the government of that kingdom, which stands in 'righteousness,
peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.' His reverence of the Divine Majesty
was most profound, his thoughts of God high and great, that seemed
totally to have composed him to adoration and even made him live a
worshipping life; he was not wont to speak to God, or of Him, at
a vulgar rate; he was most absolutely resigned and given up to Him;
devotedness to His interest, acquiescence in His wisdom and will,
were not mere precepts with him, but habits. No man could be more
deeply concerned about the affairs of religion and God's interest in
the world; yet his solicitude was tempered with that steadfast trust,
that it might be seen the acknowledged verities of God's governing
the world, superintending and ordering all human affairs by wise and
steady counsel and almighty power--which in most others are but faint
notions--were with him turned into, living sense and vital principles
which governed his soul! Whereupon his great reverence of the Majesty
of God, falling into a conjunction with an assured trust and sense of
His love and goodness, made that rare and happy temperament with him,
which I cannot better express than by a pleasant seriousness. What
friend of his did ever, at the first congress, see his face but with
a grave smile? When unexpectedly and by surprise he came in among his
familiar friends, it seemed as if he had blessed the room; as if a new
soul or some good genius were come among them."
[Sidenote: _Lamot._]
Puritan gentlemen manifested in their own way virtues of a kind similar
to those which adorned their Anglican neighbours. The biographer of
Alderman John Lamot, who died in 1655, eulogizes the "holy carriage
of his youth," his industry, thanksgiving, prudence, integrity, zeal,
charity, sympathy, bounty, and patience. Mention is made especially of
his religious duties--he was a member and elder of the Dutch Church--of
his devoutly attending public lectures, and of his reading the Holy
Scriptures in private. Every year, upon the 17th of November, he made
a feast to commemorate the end of Queen Mary's persecution, and the
commencement of Queen Elizabeth's reign. Upon these occasions he would
deliver a hearty Protestant speech, and bless God for the quenching
of the Smithfield fires. At other times he invited friends "to eat
bread with him before the Lord, as Jethro and Moses did," when, with
singular fulness--for his memory is called a living library--he traced
those Divine deliverances which had been wrought out for the Church in
England and in the Netherlands, ending his conversation, as it regards
the latter, with the words: "Their case might have been ours, and who
knows but it may yet be?"[454]
Sir Nathaniel Barnardston may be mentioned as a person of the same
order. The time of his conversion is specified, and the foundation of
his faith is recorded by his biographer; who also draws a full length
portrait of him as a man and a magistrate--and as belonging both to
his own family and to God's Church. He rarely met his pastor but they
prayed together. "His tongue dropped honey, and his breath was as sweet
and fragrant as the roses in spring." He sanctified the Sabbath, and
diligently attended the preaching of the word. He prepared for the
sacrament, and loved the Christian ministry--and fasted and prayed
before exercising his right as a patron of Church livings, and sought
to draw his neighbours to a religious life. He also celebrated, like
the London alderman we have just mentioned, "The thrice happy day of
Elizabeth's inauguration," and forgot not the Fifth of November, and
the gunpowder treason, which last plot he was wont to pronounce "black
as hell."
He welcomed "the messenger of death, when it drew near. He did not
then, according to the usual method of most, seem shy and averse to be
gone, as if so be he were not ready, but was heartily ready; for as
soon as ever there appeared on his side a small swelling in which none
but himself conceived any danger, he being then at Hackney, did send
fifty miles for Mr. Fairclough, his minister, to discourse with him;
and taking him to walk with him, presently fell into conference of the
worth and immortality of the soul, of the manner of its subsistence and
actings when it was separated, of the joys of the other world, and the
vanity and emptiness of all things in this, as being most suitable to
his present condition, and herewith he was so deeply and spiritually
affected, that at their parting he expressed himself in the following
manner to Mr. Fairclough:[455]--'Sir, I now much wonder that any man
that fully believes these things to be realities, and not mere notions
(being in my condition) should be unwilling to die. For my own part,
I will not be so flattered with any carnal content as to be desirous
to live longer in this world, where there is little hope left that the
Lord hath any more work or service for me to do, except it be to suffer
for keeping a good conscience, in witnessing against the apostasies
and impieties of the times; and now it is a great favour of God to be
sent for speedily.' After this, he being removed to London for greater
conveniency of physicians, he there made the same profession of his
desire to be dissolved and be with Christ, unto several friends and
visitors."[456]
Choice examples of Christian character abound in the lives of the women
of that day.
[Sidenote: _Lady Carbary._]
Again we refer to the pages of Jeremy Taylor, and extract the following
passage from his sketch of the character of Lady Carbary:[457]--"In
all her religion, and in all her actions of relations towards God,
she had a strange evenness and untroubled passage, sliding toward her
ocean of God and of infinity, with a certain and silent motion. So
have I seen a river, deep and smooth, passing with a still foot and a
sober face, and paying to the 'fiscus,' the great 'exchequer' of the
sea, and prince of all the watery bodies, a tribute large and full; and
hard by it, a little brook skipping and making a noise upon its unequal
and neighbour bottom; and after all its talking and bragged motion, it
paid to its common audit no more than the revenues of a little cloud,
or a contemptible vessel; so have I sometimes compared the issues of
her religion to the solemnities and famed outsides of another's piety.
It dwelt upon her spirit, and was incorporated with the periodical
work of every day. She did not believe that religion was intended to
minister to fame and reputation, but to pardon of sins, to the pleasure
of God, and the salvation of souls. For religion is like the breath of
heaven; if it goes abroad into the open air, it scatters and dissolves
like camphire; but if it enters into a secret hollowness, into a close
conveyance, it is strong and mighty, and comes forth with vigour and
great effect at the other end, at the other side of this life, in the
days of death and judgment."
[Sidenote: _Lady Harley._]
The Countess of Suffolk, a friend of Richard Baxter, and an admirer
of George Herbert, affords another example of deep devotion, not
strongly marked by any "denominational" peculiarities--although she
one day locked herself up in her closet to write down from memory a
sermon she heard from a "grave prelate." On the other hand, Lady Harley
must have been a Puritan to the backbone; for in the memoir of her,
she appears rejoicing greatly at the meeting of the Long Parliament,
approving of the execution of Lord Strafford, and saying, in a letter
to her son Edward--who accompanied his father to town, when he took
his seat in the House of Commons--"I believe that the hierarchy must
go down, and I hope now." "I am glad that the Bishops begin to fall,
and I hope it will be with them as it was with Haman--when he began to
fall, he fell indeed." The order of the two Houses for removing the
relics of idolatry delighted her ladyship exceedingly, and with deep
joy she communicated to her son, that the table in Hereford Cathedral
had been turned, and that the copes and basins, and all such vestiges
of Popery, had been put away. When the war broke out, she evinced no
little zeal in the business of raising money for the Parliament, and
sent her family plate to the military chest. When battle raged around
the walls of her own castle, this Puritan Amazon manifested a masculine
courage, and in her letters gave thanks to her son "for the hamper with
powder and match"--whilst she waited for "the muskets"--and stated
that she had sent to Worcester for fifty weight of shot. She met with
opposition in all sorts of ways. The Royalists would not pay their
rents; they would not let the fowler bring her any fowls; they arrested
her servants; they drove away her horses; and they threatened to burn
down her barns. The Marquis of Hertford came to besiege her fortress.
Stories were told of 600 men marching up to her gates. Under these
threatening circumstances she declared: "If I had money to buy corn and
meal and malt, I should hope to hold out, but then I have three shires
against me." When the assault came at last, and she heard that her cook
was shot with a poisoned bullet, and that the waters of the village
brook were poisoned also, this English Deborah, this Puritan mother
in Israel, trusting entirely in Divine help, retained the confidence
she had before expressed, "I thank God I am not afraid. It is the
Lord's cause that we have stood for, and I trust, though our iniquities
testify against us, yet the Lord will work for His own name's sake, and
that He will now shew the men of the world that it is hard fighting
against heaven."[458]
She died before the close of the siege, and the Puritan minister of
Clun, in Shropshire--who preached her funeral sermon--observed: "When
the naked sword, that messenger of death, walked the land, did God set
His seal of safety upon her. Though surrounded with drums and noise of
war, yet she took her leave in peace."
We read, also, of Mrs. Margaret Andrews, who was constant in prayers
three times a day, spending two hours in her closet in the coldest
winter, and who rarely passed an hour without retiring from company,
stealing away that she might look towards heaven: of Lady Alice Lucy,
of Charlcot--one of the Shakespeare Lucys--who made it her first
employment every morning to address Almighty God in secret, and to
read some portions of the Divine Word, and who also delighted in
sacred literature, storing her memory with passages from favourite
English authors: and of Lady Mary Houghton, who spent the earlier
and later hours of the day in communion with God, and had books for
contemplation, and books for conversation, and books for devotion, and
who spent the rest of her time in needle-work, with her maidens sitting
round about her, or in visiting the cottages of the neighbouring poor.
[Sidenote: _Lady Courten._]
Lady Catherine Courten is another celebrity, who, having lost her
fortune--a calamity she bore with Christian fortitude--spent the last
and the retired season of her life with her noble sister, Lady Francis
Hobart, at Chapel Field House, in the city of Norwich. She never
neglected sermons; and when, on account of illness, she was unable to
walk down stairs, she would be carried by her servants to the place of
worship. Her habit of reading is also particularly noticed, and the few
hours which she spent out of her closet were usually filled up with
discourses tending to edification. Nor was she ever more in her element
than when by debate with others, she was investigating some truth for
the information of her judgment, or for the guidance of her practice.
With her may be coupled Lady Francis Hobart, the wife of Sir John
Hobart, of Blickling, in Norfolk; like the former lady, a particular
friend of Dr. Collinge's, who observes:--"It was in September, 1646,
that I was invited by Sir John Hobart (at that time alive) to take
my chamber in his house whilst I discharged my ministerial office in
the county (Norwich), and to take some oversight of his family in the
things of God." The family had been without any spiritual guide, and
in a state of religious disorder, and the chaplain's design was to
bring it into a course of prayer, in conformity, as he said, to David's
pattern. He held services morning, evening, and at noon, reading some
portion of Scripture every day, and expounding it as the time would
allow. He catechised once a week, and accustomed the members of the
household to repeat the sermons which they had heard on the Lord's Day,
and at other public ordinances. The servants were required to attend
these duties every morning at seven o'clock. The catechising was made
easy by the parents prevailing upon their pious daughter to set an
example by first herself answering the questions which were proposed by
the minister. A chapel was fitted up in the house, and a lecture was
preached every lord's Day.[459]
The religious convictions of the reader must create a preference for
some above others of the characters which we have described; yet, if we
would be loyal to Christian charity and righteousness, we must judge
all these individuals in no narrow spirit, but bring to bear upon our
conclusions respecting them a careful study of the differences which
exist in the ages, in the sects, in the minds, and in the morals of
ancient and of modern Christendom.
[Sidenote: _Ages of Christendom._]
The ages of the Church, down to the era of the Commonwealth, exhibit
a series of ecclesiastical and theological revolutions running
along through an extended line of generations which, under altering
circumstances, still exhibit ever the same spiritual life. Primitive
simplicity--when uninspired men accepted the authoritative teaching of
apostles as a religion rather than a theology, and had but an imperfect
apprehension of the profound truths of the New Testament, was succeeded
by sundry innovations of doctrine and practice, drawn from sources
which were open and active all around them in the Jewish and Pagan
world, or from others which were hidden in the very depths of human
nature. The true and the false soon became blended together, sometimes
in very unequal proportions; and hence sprung Nicene developments,
of doctrine touching certain vital points, associated, however, with
certain metaphysical refinements and with certain forms of polity and
of worship, which prepared for subsequent manifestations of despotism
and of superstition. Traditionalism for a time stereotyped both that
which was bad and that which was good in the sixth and the seventh
centuries, and then afterwards came limited but violent reactions
against authority in several different quarters, opening up paths which
ultimately led to the Protestant Reformation. That Reformation followed
as the result of applying the New Testament to human creeds, and
canons, and formularies. In their sifting of opinions and practices,
the Reformers sought to separate the wheat from the chaff; but when
the first excitement of the Ecclesiastical Revolution had passed
away, some persons thought that a measure of wheat had been cast away
along with the chaff; and others again believed that the process had
terminated too soon--that the sieve had been laid aside before all the
requisite sifting work had been done, and that a good deal of chaff
remained mixed with wheat. Such ideas, on the one hand and on the
other, constituted the groundwork of Anglo-Catholic and of Puritan
piety. Anglo-Catholicism, under James, arose as a reaction against
Puritan Protestantism under Elizabeth. That Anglo-Catholicism led to
a more violent Puritan reaction under Charles I. Hence followed the
antagonism of parties, at that time of immense excitement, in connexion
with the influences of early training, of associations in life, of
different kinds of pulpit teaching, and of varied idiosyncracies of
mental character. Not only did parties widely differ, but each regarded
the other as an enemy. They fought as for life--and certainly the
subjects of contention were not trifles. Scarcely could it be expected
that on either side there would be an unprejudiced estimate of what was
thought, said, and done on the other.
Moreover, as in every age some peculiar type of piety is found to
prevail, whether it be Primitive, or Nicene, or Mediæval, or Reformed;
so, during the English Commonwealth, influence flowing from the past
and mingling with the present, washed thoughts and habits into form
and hue so as to give to all religious parties a somewhat similar
appearance not to be overlooked. Much time was spent by all pious
persons in retirement, in reading, in meditation, and in prayer. Piety
was active as well as contemplative, but the contemplative side was
most apparent: the mind dwelt much upon memories of the past, the
Nicene age being the background of thought in the one case, and the
age of the Reformation in the other; whilst over the whole religion of
the day there rested the solemn shadows of an ascetic spirituality.
Moreover, there pertained to Anglicans and Puritans in common a
singularly strong conviction of the absolute reality of spiritual
and eternal things. They could truly say "we walk by faith, not by
sight"--in contrast with so many religionists in our own time whose
views are entirely walled in by objects of sense, and who walk by
sight, not by faith. Our fathers of the seventeenth century "tasted
the good Word of God and the powers of the world to come." They lived
"on the sides of eternity," and their souls breathed a bracing air
which came from the goodly land and the "Lebanon afar off." Visiting
the sick and the poor, and managing some hospital for boys, or for old
men and women, constituted the usual methods of beneficence in those
times, inasmuch as Bible Societies, Missions, and Sunday-schools, were
institutions then unknown.
Together with the difference between one age of Christendom and
another, we must consider the differences between sect and sect.
It is only fair for the historian to apply the term sect to any
party exhibiting avowed symbols; whether found existing within the
same Episcopal Church, as were all Anglo-Catholics and some of the
Puritans--or existing outside, as was the case with Presbyterians,
Independents, and Baptists. Each division appears marked by the
strength and the weakness of all such bodies. Each had a concentrated
power of attack and of defence. Each was strong in its polemical
attitude and action: each was powerful against the other. The weakness
lay--as is ever the case--in defective self-culture, and in an
imperfect extent of teaching within its own borders. Sectarianism is
always one-sided. It seizes on certain points and magnifies them beyond
all rules of proportion. Other parts of Divine truth and other portions
of human nature suffer from neglect.
[Sidenote: _Idiosyncrasies._]
And again, the idiosyncrasies of individuals must be taken into
account, since they always powerfully contribute to produce varieties
of spiritual life. John Milton and John Owen were both Christians,
both devout, both unceremonial, both advocating a wide liberty of
conscience, both averse to Prelacy, and to all Presbyterian domination,
both entertaining in general the same views of government, political
and ecclesiastical; yet how unlike in many other respects! The one
exhibiting in his religion the genius of a poet, the other the genius
of a systematic theologian; the one soaring with outstretched wings
into the loftiest regions of Divine contemplation, the other measuring
every opinion by the standard of a remorseless logic, based upon
Scripture; the one inspired with classic taste, chiselling the products
of his intellect into forms of beauty, comparable to those of Phidias
in the art of sculpture; the other careless respecting artistic style,
and flinging out the treasures of his affluent mind after a fashion
which is most excruciating to the æsthetical of this generation; the
one a man of imagination, the other a man of reason; the one a Homer,
the other an Aristotle amongst Puritans. And as they differed in their
manner of thinking, so also they differed in their modes of feeling and
in their habits of life; the religious sentiments of Milton being calm
and pure, with something in their tone almost approaching to angelic
elevation, bearing scarcely any marks of such struggles as beset most
other Christians, and suggesting the idea that his chief conflicts of
soul must have been with "spiritual wickedness in high places;" Owen,
on the other hand, dwelling much upon "the mortification of sin in
believers," "the doctrine of justification," "the work of the Holy
Spirit in prayer," and "the Glory of Christ," and ever indicating the
strongest faith and the intensest feeling upon those evangelical points
respecting which some defect may be traced in the religion of Milton;
and whilst Milton was solitary in his devotion, at least during the
latter part of his life, and in this respect, as in others, was "like a
star and dwelt apart," Owen delighted in social worship.
No reader who has any fixed theological opinions can examine the Church
systems of that age without feeling sympathy with some one of them,
mingled with disapprobation in reference to the rest. The theologian
is constrained to take a side as he studies this deeply-exciting
history. A passionless neutrality is absolutely impossible. At the same
time, a student is chargeable with injustice who does not carefully
strive to ascertain the defects of his own party; and he also is
wanting in charity if he be not ever ready to acknowledge the moral
and spiritual excellencies of persons, whose opinions were different
from those which he himself entertains. When all modifying influences
have been conscientiously analyzed by the catholic-hearted reader of
ecclesiastical history, he will rejoice in believing that the centre
of Christian life is not in creeds, polities, and forms, but in One
Divine Redeemer; and that Herbert and Fuller, Hammond and Baxter,
Taylor and Howe, and the whole company of faithful souls, a few of
whose names have occurred in these volumes, were looking to one and the
same Christ for holiness and peace.
Pictures are drawn of the religion and morals of the Commonwealth
mostly of two kinds; rose-coloured, glowing with brightest tints; or
dark and gloomy, crossed with still deeper shades. Spiritual prosperity
and little else is to be seen in the first; hypocrisy and vice alone
are visible in the second. Party spirit is betrayed in each of these
styles of historical, or rather fictitious art; yet neither serves
its object. For, if there was so much prosperity as is sometimes
represented, how superficial, how slightly-rooted it must have been,
seeing the Restoration of Charles II. swept it almost all away; and
if there was so much of hypocrisy and vice as some declare, it is but
just to ask them, who were the chief hypocrites but the people who
afterwards threw off the mask? Who must have been the most vicious in
secret but those who sinned so very openly when restraint was gone? The
fact is, that neither extreme receives support from a calm review of
facts.
[Sidenote: _State of Religion._]
The materials for forming a judgment of the actual state of religion
during the Civil Wars and the Commonwealth are manifold. Attention
should be directed first to the general accounts of the times which
have been handed down to us by contemporaries. Isaak Walton, in his
"Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson," declares that "the common people were
amazed and grown giddy by the many falsehoods and misapplications of
truth 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 patronize their sacrilege and zealous frenzies." He also
complains of honesty and plain dealing being exchanged for cruelty and
cunning, and of the encouragement given to perjury by the violation of
one oath through the taking of another. He says that Sanderson 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."[460]
Baxter, however, remarks: "If any shall demand whether the increase
of godliness was answerable in all places to what I have mentioned
(and none deny that it was with us) I answer, that however men that
measure godliness by their gain, and interest, and domination, do go
about to persuade the world that godliness then went down, and was
almost extinguished, I must bear this faithful witness to those times,
that as far as I was acquainted, where before there was one godly
profitable preacher, there was then six or ten; and, taking one place
with another, I conjecture there is a proportionable increase of truly
godly people, not counting heretics, or perfidious rebels, or Church
disturbers, as such. But this increase of godliness was not in all
places alike; for in some places, where the ministers were formal,
or ignorant, or weak and imprudent, contentious or negligent, the
parishes were as bad as heretofore. And in some places, where the
ministers had excellent parts and holy lives, and thirsted after the
good of souls, and wholly devoted themselves, their time, and strength,
and estates thereunto, and thought no pains or cost too much, there
abundance were converted to serious godliness. And with those of a
middle state, usually they had a hidden measure of success. And I
must add this to the true information of posterity, that God did so
wonderfully bless the labours of His unanimous faithful ministers, that
had it not been for the faction of the Prelatists on one side, that
drew men off, and the factions of the giddy and turbulent sectaries
on the other side (who pulled down all government, cried down the
ministers, and broke all into confusion, and made the people at their
wits' end, not knowing what religion to be of), together with some
laziness and selfishness in many of the ministry, I say, had it not
been for these impediments, England had been like, in a quarter of an
age, to have become a land of saints, and a pattern of holiness to all
the world, and the unmatchable paradise of the earth. Never were such
fair opportunities to sanctify a nation lost and trodden under foot as
have been in this land of late! Woe be to them that were the causes of
it."[461]
[Sidenote: _Testimonies._]
The honesty of Isaak Walton is undoubted; yet no one who has read his
charming biographies will regard him as free from prejudice in his
opinion of the Puritans. But Baxter--though strongly opposed to the
course of things after the Restoration, and one who may be regarded as
a party man--yet kept himself singularly free from party ties during
the Commonwealth; for, whilst he was an enemy to the sectaries, he also
exercised the privilege of criticising the Presbyterians. On that
account, considerable impartiality must be admitted as characterizing
his report; and indeed the discriminating tone of his remarks indicates
how carefully he strove to avoid exaggeration and to do justice on all
sides.[462]
Next to general statements, we ought to consider the particular results
of the Puritan ministry as recorded at the time. Turning to Baxter's
account of Kidderminster, and to the life of Wilson at Maidstone
(specimens of both have been largely copied in former pages), we
discover ample proofs of religious prosperity according to the Puritan
type, and much which all Christians, whatever be their opinions, must
admire. In Lancashire the Presbyterian system was rather fully carried
out, with what success has been described. Certainly, the failure of
Presbyterian discipline in London is manifest.
Proceeding to consult biographies, we find that the lives of Hammond,
Sanderson, and Bull, bear witness to Episcopalian devotion and
constancy under oppression; and on referring to "Clarke's Lives," and
other memoirs of the same class, we are made acquainted with a large
number of godly Puritans who were living in the days of Oliver Cromwell.
[Sidenote: _Complaints._]
Over against these records of individual excellence, however, must be
placed appeals in contemporary sermons, and also treatises, which teem
with rebukes and reproof, such as imply very unfavourable impressions
of the general religious character of the times. Farindon, in one of
his discourses, exclaims: "The Church mourneth, her very face is
disfigured. Religion mourneth, being trod underfoot, and only her
name held up to keep her down." "Have ye no regard, all ye that pass
by the way, to see a troubled State, a disordered Church moulded into
sects, and crumbled into conventicles, religion enslaved and dragged
to vile offices, true devotion spit at, and hypocrisy crowned, common
honesty almost become a reproach, and the upright moral man condemned
to hell."[463] Farindon, however, it must be remembered, was a son of
the Episcopal Church of England, stung with grief for his mother's
sad humiliation; and although he owed something to those who allowed
him to preach, and who restored him to his pastoral charge, still he
could scarcely avoid regarding with some prejudice what was going on
around him. Not only do Episcopal authors speak unfavourably of the
times, but Presbyterian and Independents do the same. Dr. Annesley,
in a sermon preached at St. Paul's, in the year 1655, thus addressed
his congregation:--"When you stood upon lower ground did you not think
magistrates might do more than they did? Do you now do what you then
thought? If you say you have performed the commandment of the Lord,
a bystander will perhaps reply: What mean, then, the blasphemous
swearing, the roaring drunkenness, the common whoredoms, the rambling
Sabbath breakings, &c.? may these sons of Belial plead liberty of
conscience? If you cannot reach those that pull the crown from the head
of Christ in way of spirital wickedness, pray hold their hands that
would stab the heart of Christ by moral wickedness."[464]
The language of Dr. Owen is very strong. "Whilst all the issues of
providential dispensations in reference to the public concernments of
these nations are perplexed and entangled, the footsteps of God lying
in the deep, where His paths are not known; whilst in particular,
unparalleled distresses, and strange prosperities are measured out
to men, yea to professors; whilst a spirit of error, giddiness, and
delusion goes forth with such strength and efficacy, as it seems to
have received a commission to go and prosper; whilst there are such
divisions, strifes, emulations, attended with such evil surmises,
wrath, and revenge, found amongst brethren; whilst the desperate
issues and products of men's temptations are seen daily in partial
and total apostasy, in the decay of love, the overthrow of faith, our
days being filled with fearful examples of backsliding, such as former
ages never knew; whilst there is a visible declension from reformation
seizing upon the professing party of these nations, both as to personal
holiness, and zeal for the interest of Christ."[465]
In all honesty, we feel bound to give these extracts; but we would
remind the reader that passages of this order require qualification. No
one can accept literally, and as a whole, what Cyprian wrote about the
moral condition of the Church at Carthage; or what Chrysostom declared,
or implied, respecting the people of Constantinople; or what Salvian
testified relative to Roman society; or what Luther said of Germany; or
what Melancthon wrote of the dissensions of the Reformers;[466] or what
Becon reported of English morality in Edward the Sixth's reign;[467]
or what preachers uttered relative to the state of religion in the
times of Queen Elizabeth.[468] We instinctively make some allowance for
the impetuosity of indignation betrayed by honest men as they warned
their contemporaries. Their strong language, and the respectful manner
in which it was listened to, indicated that amidst the existence of
the worst evils there also existed what was infinitely different. The
words of English authors at the Puritan epoch must be dealt with in a
discriminating spirit, such as guides us in the interpretation of Greek
and Latin teachers in patristic times, and German and English preachers
at the epoch of the Reformation.
[Sidenote: _Theology._]
Further, the theology of the period should be carefully studied.
None of its varieties; none of its excellencies; none of its defects
should be overlooked. We ought impartially to aim at finding out
exactly what High Churchmen taught, and as a just result, give them
credit for catholic orthodoxy, for calm devotion, and for ethical
appeals in their writings; and not merely condemn them for what was
legal and ritualistic, and for what was ascetic and superstitious
in their views and ways. With equal impartiality, also, ought we to
survey the doctrinal literature of the Puritan school in its different
departments, as found in the works of Presbyterians, Independents,
Baptists, and Quakers; marking well the prominence generally assigned
in them to the redemption which was wrought by the Lord Jesus Christ,
to the work of the Holy Spirit, and to the enforcement of moral duties
by motives which had been drawn from the Gospel. And with corresponding
fidelity it becomes us to note the narrow conceptions of the atonement,
and the high views of predestination which appear in some cases; and
also the too minute and metaphysical distinctions common in a large
number of Puritan productions; together with the want of sympathy
which they indicate with forms of sentiment differing from their own.
Habits of theological thinking both expressed and shaped the religious
character and experience of the times.
Putting together all these materials for forming an opinion of the
spiritual condition of the people during the period embraced in this
work, we should say, that what was true of one place might not be
true of another; that in cities and larger towns many of the middle
classes became sincere Presbyterians and Independents, whilst in
small towns and villages Royalism lingered, associated with a strong
attachment to Episcopacy; that in both Puritan and Anglican instances,
eminent piety existed by the side of hypocrisy and immorality; and
that amidst a great deal of formalism, superficial religion, and mere
external morality, there flourished a large amount of vital godliness;
that spirituality of feeling might be often found apart from wisdom,
and coupled with unhealthy excitement; that Puritans were intensely
anti-ritualistic, hating "pontifician fooleries," and joining to
"hiss them out of the Church"[469]--their English common sense, as
well as the spiritual perception of the genius of the Gospel, causing
them to revolt from the absurdities of "Catholic" ceremonials; that
Anglicans themselves, by the time the Civil Wars were over, had learned
a salutary lesson, and were weaned somewhat from the follies of
Archbishop Laud, and under the Protectorate passed through a discipline
which made them somewhat wiser at the Restoration, in reference to
the pomp of worship than they had been twenty years before; that a
large proportion of true Christians were then, as ever, of the common
mediocre type, described as neither white, nor red, but "good brown
ochre;" that the furnace of affliction purified the Episcopal part
of the Church from some of the dross which had largely alloyed it
at a previous period, and brought out the piety and patience of its
confessors in beautiful colours whilst the temporal prosperity of
Puritanism proved rather unfavourable to its spiritual character; and
that, on the whole, there was a broader surface, and a richer depth of
genuine piety during the period we have reviewed, than was the case
just before or just afterwards.
[Sidenote: _Theology._]
Nor can it be doubted that England then could bear comparison with
other countries at the same time. For on the Continent, in Roman
Catholic lands, though some of the worst ecclesiastical abuses had
been reformed, and the morals of the clergy had improved, and the
Inquisition had been checked, yet the chief activities of religious
thought, and the main business of education, had fallen almost entirely
into the hands of Jesuits. From the orthodoxy of Protestant kingdoms
and states there had been brushed off very much of the dew of its
youth. The Lutheran and Reformed Churches of Germany had lost their
"first love," and had become much more the conservators of a cold,
dogmatic Christianity than the warm-hearted disciples of the Living
Word. They kept their eyes open for the detection of heterodoxy,
and they assailed one another sharply for slight deviations from
certain standards which had been handed down by their fathers, but
they had declined in spirituality and devotion.[470] They guarded
the stones of the altar, but they let the fire die down to a few
red ashes. Theological learning abounded, pastoral diligence of a
certain description extensively obtained, but Evangelical fervour had
declined, and the revival of piety under Spener did not commence until
after the Restoration in England had taken place. The religion of the
Commonwealth found scarcely a parallel at that time in Europe.[471]
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