CHAPTER I.
We meet with statements, on the authority of Lord Clarendon, to the effect that the members of the Long Parliament "were almost to a man for episcopal government," and "had no mind to make any considerable alteration in Church or State."[72] On the other hand, we are told that at the beginning, "the party in favour of presbyterian government was very strong in the House of Commons, and that they were disposed to be contented with no less than the extirpation of bishops."[73] Neither statement conveys a correct idea of this remarkable assembly.
1640, November.
Let us enter St. Stephen's chapel after the ceremony described in our Introduction, and see for ourselves.
Dressed mostly in short cloaks, and wearing high-crowned hats, grave-looking men were seated on either side the speaker's chair, which was occupied by William Lenthall, a person of dignified aspect, arrayed in official robes, as represented by the picture in the National Portrait Gallery. Behind the chair were the Royal arms, and above it was the grand Gothic window, rendered familiar to us by old quaint woodcuts. The mace lay on the table by which the clerks of the House sat, busy with books and papers; and it may be stated, once for all, that the forms of the House were rigidly observed, during the memorable war of words through which this history will conduct the reader.
Denzil Holles, younger son of John, first Earl of Clare, sat for Dorchester. Foremost amongst those afterwards known as Presbyterian leaders, his influence in part was owing to his rank, and early court associations—for he had been on terms of intimacy with the King—but still more his power proceeded from the firm and somewhat fiery decision of his views, as well as from a reputation for integrity and honour, which raised him above the suspicion of self-interest or of factious animosity. Even in the days of James, he had resisted the encroachments of prerogative; and, in the reign of Charles, he had, through his adherence to the same course, been not only mulcted in a large fine, but imprisoned during the Royal pleasure.[74]
Members of Long Parliament.
Glynne, Recorder of London, and a Member for the City, was also ultimately a decided Presbyterian; and the same may be said of Maynard, who represented the borough of Totness. In the same class may be included Sir Benjamin Rudyard, member for Wilton, and Surveyor of His Majesty's Court of Wards and Liveries, an accomplished gentleman, "an elegant scholar," and a frequent speaker. In earlier parliaments he had hotly debated religious questions, though he was conspicuous for loyal protestations as sincere as they were fervid. At first he advocated some qualified form of episcopal superintendence, but, from the opening of the Long Parliament, he condemned existing prelacy, and thus prepared himself for adopting presbyterian tenets.
All these, and others less known, were from the first not only doctrinal but ecclesiastical Puritans, and were inspired by an intense detestation of Popery, and of everything which they believed paved the way to it. Beyond them, we find another group of men further advanced in the path of Church politics.
1640, November.
Members of Long Parliament.
Few have been more unfairly represented than Sir Harry Vane the younger, member for Hull. Though son of the Comptroller of His Majesty's household, and brought up at Court, he was, when a youth, reported to the King as "grown into dislike of the discipline and ceremonies of the Church of England." Not long after this, it was stated in a letter, that he had left his father, (old Sir Harry Vane,) his mother, and his country, and that fortune which his father would have left him, and for conscience' sake was gone to New England.[75] There he became Governor of Massachusetts, and, in that capacity, carried out the principles of religious toleration with a consistency and an equity so unique, as to offend many of the colonists, who, while advocates of religious freedom, persecuted, through mistaken fears, a sincerely religious woman, only because she was obstinate and fanatical. Returned to England, young Vane became not only member of the Short Parliament, but received knighthood from Charles I., and joined Sir W. Russel in the Treasurership of the Navy—a proceeding which indicated at the time something of a conciliatory disposition on both sides. With a philosophical temperament of the imaginative cast, and with strong religious tendencies in a mystical direction; smitten also with the charms of Plato's republic, and longing for the realization of his ideal within the shores of England, Vane seemed to many of his sober-minded contemporaries an enthusiast and a visionary; yet it would be difficult to disprove the testimony of Ludlow, that "he was capable of managing great affairs—possessing, in the highest perfection, a quick and ready apprehension, a strong and tenacious memory, a profound and penetrating judgment, a just and noble eloquence, with an easy and graceful manner of speaking. To these were added a singular zeal and affection for the good of the Commonwealth, and a resolution and courage not to be shaken or diverted from the public service."[76] Probably no man, at the beginning of the Long Parliament, so thoroughly grasped or could so well advocate the principles of religious liberty as Sir Harry Vane. There he sat in old St. Stephen's, with a refined expression of countenance, most pleasant and prepossessing; a person, says Clarendon, "of unusual aspect, which made men think there was somewhat in him of extraordinary."[77]
Nathaniel Fiennes, Lord Say and Sele's son, who represented Banbury, also held rank in the vanguard of religious liberty. Educated at Geneva—where also Vane had spent some of his early years—he had imbibed in some degree the spirit of that renowned little republic; and his opposition to the ecclesiastical establishment of his native country was, on his entering public life, soon roused by the working out of Anglo-Catholic principles. He agreed with Vane in his broad views of freedom, and when the Presbyterian and Independent parties assumed a definite form, he took his place with the latter. Clarendon admits his "good stock of estimation in the House of Commons," his superior "parts of learning and nature," and speaks of his being "a great manager in the most secret designs from the beginning."[78]
1640, November.
Another individual there—according to the report of a courtly young gentleman, Sir Philip Warwick—wore a suit which seemed made by a country tailor; his linen was plain, and not very clean; a speck or two of blood stained his little band, which, very uncourtier-like, was not much larger than his collar; his hat had no hat-band, and his sword stuck close to his side. The man appeared of good stature, but his countenance looked swollen and reddish, and his voice sounded sharp and untunable; but he spoke with fervour, and much to the vexation of the royalist observer, this shabby-looking member was "very much hearkened unto." "Pray who is that man, that sloven who spake just now?" said Lord Digby—one who then took the patriotic side—to another, John Hampden,—who afterwards died for it.—"That sloven whom you see before you hath no ornament of speech; that sloven, I say, if we should ever come to a breach with the King, which God forbid, in such a case I say, that sloven will be the greatest man in England." The speaker was the sloven's cousin, and, with the intuitive perception of a kindred mind, saw in that rough piece of humanity some of the rarest elements of power which this world has ever felt.
Oliver Cromwell began his parliamentary career in 1628, as member for Huntingdon. In the Long Parliament he represented Cambridge, being returned by a majority of only one. As early as 1628 he distinguished himself in a debate respecting the pardon of certain religious delinquents, by charging some leading Churchmen with Popery; and though we can see nothing in his speeches but a rough, rude energy, they were jerked out by his untunable voice in such a fashion that they were remembered and talked of when many eloquent orations had glided into oblivion. His house at Huntingdon afforded a refuge to persecuted Nonconformist ministers. At St. Ives he achieved an unequalled reputation for "piety and self-denying virtue." And at Ely—whence he had now come to London, over bad roads in the foggy month of November, travelling on horseback in humble style—at Ely, dwelling at the glebe house, near St. Mary's Churchyard, he maintained the same character and influence, though there he suffered dreadfully from hypochondria. In part it rose from seeing his brethren forsake their native country to seek their bread among strangers, or to live in a howling wilderness.
Members of the Long Parliament.
Oliver St. John, member for Totness, was on terms of friendship with Oliver Cromwell, more so in the later than in the earlier portion of his history. Eminent for qualities such as help to make the good lawyer and the useful statesman, there hung round his ways a mystery—the effect of reticence and moroseness—which impaired his influence, and gave him the name of "the dark-lantern man!" At first chiefly known in a legal and political capacity, as time advanced, and events rolled into ecclesiastical channels, he became active in religious affairs, and took a foremost place amongst political independents.
Sir Arthur Haselrig represented Leicestershire. He had married the sister of Lord Brook, and probably shared in what were considered the extreme ecclesiastical opinions of that nobleman. What these opinions were will be seen as we proceed, together with the course which the Leicestershire baronet took, as well on State as on Church questions. He, at an early period of the Long Parliament, showed himself decidedly opposed to Episcopacy, and ultimately became a thorough Republican. With much warm-heartedness and generosity, he had also the rashness and prejudice which are the dark shadows of such virtues, so that his enemies said he had "more will than wit," and gave him the nickname of "hare-brained."
But far more influential at first than any of these were other men whom we must describe.
1640, November.
Of the Parliamentary leaders, the most renowned and influential at the commencement of the struggle was John Pym. That "grave and religious gentleman"—burgess for the good town of Tavistock—appeared as conspicuously in religious business as in that which was strictly political. His countenance had a lion-like dignity, and, with a touch of melancholy in eyes and lips, there blended an expression of invincible firmness, while his shaggy mane-like hair, disarranged, as he spoke with tremendous energy, were in keeping with the rest of his majestic appearance. For eight and twenty years he had struggled against the policy of King, Court, and Church. Wise in council, and eloquent in speech, though quaint and tedious in the style of his oratory—a trifling drawback, however, in that age—he stood forward the most formidable antagonist with whom the High Church party had to deal. So closely at one time did John Pym connect Church and State—in this respect widely differing from Sir Harry Vane—that in 1628, he declared, "It belongs to the duty of a Parliament to establish true religion and to punish false; we must know what Parliaments have done formerly in religion. Our Parliaments have confirmed General Councils."[79] This now would be called a thoroughly Erastian style of speaking. It proceeded on the theory of the Church being subject to the State, and in this view many of the ecclesiastical reformers of that age were practically agreed, however diversified their notions of Church government might be. Pym, though never a Nonconformist, but simply professing himself "a faithful son of the Protestant religion," from the beginning of his career opposed the spirit and proceedings of Anglican prelacy; and as to the questions affecting Episcopacy, he at last acted with those who sought its overthrow. He had a large share in calling the Long Parliament, as he prepared the petition for that purpose, and went to York to present it to the King. After the writs had been issued, Pym and others proceeded on an electioneering crusade, urging the voters to support representatives who would maintain the liberties of their country, then so threatened and imperilled. As popular opinion counted him the author of the Long Parliament, so common consent assigned to him the position of its leader.
Members of the Long Parliament.
Next to John Pym comes John Hampden—the illustrious member for Buckinghamshire, universally known for his resistance of ship-money, and for his brief but brilliant military career. His religious character and the part he took in ecclesiastical affairs have, however, been much overlooked; yet, in early life, as the friend of Sir John Eliot, he had followed that single-minded and unflinching patriot in his noble resistance of ecclesiastical as well as regal despotism, and was one of the leaders of the advanced party which sought to promote reforms in Church and State. In 1629 he was engaged in preparing bills for enlarging the liberty of hearing the Word of God, and for preventing corruption in the collation to benefices, headships, fellowships, and scholarships in Colleges, besides other measures of less importance in a similar direction. "He was," says Clarendon, "not a man of many words, and rarely began the discourse, or made the first entrance upon any business that was assumed; but a very weighty speaker, and after he had heard a full debate, and observed how the House was like to be inclined, took up the argument, and shortly, and clearly, and craftily, so stated it, that he commonly conducted it to the conclusion he desired; and if he found he could not do that, he never was without the dexterity to divert the debate to another time, and to prevent the determining anything in the negative which might prove inconvenient in the future."[80] All this, when stript of its manifest unfairness, means neither more nor less than that this persistent enemy of ship-money must have been also a skilful parliamentary tactician, possessing a rare insight into men and motives. His modesty and moderation are acknowledged even by this prejudiced historian; and the rapid progress of his opinions on ecclesiastical affairs made him what the same authority truly calls, "a root-and-branch man"—a fact which, though doubted by one of his biographers, is correctly maintained by another.[81] His high intellectual forehead, his delicately chiselled features, his eyes so calmly looking you through, his lips of compressed firmness, with a kind of melancholy presentiment imprinted on his whole face—betoken a man born to a great but sad destiny; and we do not wonder at the confidence he inspired, whether he appealed to the patriotism of his tenantry and neighbours in the old family mansion down in Buckinghamshire, at the back of the Chiltern hills, or stood up to address the grave assembly in St. Stephen's Chapel, Westminster.[82] Perhaps it is right here to mention a man of a very different stamp, who sat near these illustrious statesmen and acted with them. Henry Marten, member for Berks—and, after his father's death, renowned through the county for his hospitable entertainments in the vale of "White Horse"—was as gay and humorous, and as fond of fun as the other two were serious and dignified. Nor can it be denied that he seems to have been as licentious as they were virtuous—as "far from a Puritan as light from darkness," and as destitute of religious faith as they were diligent in its cultivation. Strongly republican, he steadily opposed the Court policy, and, perhaps through religious indifference, became tolerant of the religious opinions of others. He belongs to a considerable class of men who from political feeling are attached to ecclesiastical reformers, and who join with them in aspirations after the widest liberty, though incapable of entering into their loftier purposes. Marten's name does not occur in the early ecclesiastical debates of the Long Parliament, but he is found afterwards in connection with political Independents.
John Selden, member for the University of Oxford, must not be dropped out of this roll. Merely to mention his name is to suggest the idea of marvellous learning. His reputation—now exalted by distance of time, and widened by the flow of ages—reached in his own day almost surprising magnitude, and must have imparted immense authority to his opinions. Those opinions, in reference to Church affairs, were what are commonly called Erastian. In the early conflicts of Puritanism, Selden fought in its ranks against the domineering spirit of prelacy, though no Puritan himself, and not having any objection to bishops, provided they were kept in subjection to the State.[83] His strength in public affairs seems to have shewn itself more in the way of opposition than in constructive skill. If he did not positively help to pull down Episcopacy he hindered the setting up of Presbyterianism. Nor should it be forgotten that, student-like, he preferred his library to the arena of debate, and notwithstanding his sacrifices at one time to liberty, he had too great a love of ease—if we are to believe Clarendon, who knew and admired him[84]—to take much trouble in guiding the helm of public affairs.
1640, November.
Members of the Long Parliament.
Anecdotes are related serving to shew that even after the opening of the Long Parliament, the reformers had not definitely made up their minds as to what should be done. One "fine evening," Nathaniel Fiennes, after dining at Pym's lodgings with Mr. Hyde, afterwards Lord Clarendon, rode out with him on horseback "in the fields between Westminster and Chelsea." Hyde, in the course of conversation, asked Fiennes, "what government do you mean to introduce if the existing constitution of the Church were altered?" To this he replied "there will be time enough to think of that;" but he "assured him, and wished him to remember what he said, that if the King resolved to defend the bishops, it would cost the kingdom much blood, and would be the occasion of as sharp a war as had ever been in England; for that there was so great a number of good men who resolved to lose their lives before they would ever submit to that government."[85] These words were uttered in the summer of 1641, when the Long Parliament had been sitting seven or eight months. At an earlier period, Sir Philip Warwick—the Court gentleman who quizzed Cromwell's clothes—met the rough-looking man in the lobby of the House, and wished to know what the real objects of his party were. "I can tell you," he bluntly replied, "what I would not have, if I cannot what I would." We are convinced that Cromwell spoke the truth in relation to his views of both the political and ecclesiastical changes on the brink of which the nation stood. Changes hovered not in the distance but at hand, and amongst them some which must modify the ecclesiastical establishment; but how far, looking at the different opinions of the country, reform ought to be carried, did not at once appear. Some few had republican theories—for example, Vane and Marten—and possibly at an early period they contemplated the overthrow of the monarchy, and with it the Episcopal Church. The latter of these gentlemen blurted out as much, with regard to monarchy, only two days after Fiennes' talk with Hyde, intimating his design to employ certain persons up to a certain point, and then to use them "as they had used others." But there is no solid ground for believing that the greater number of the reformers had at first any further object than that of effectually curbing kingly prerogative in the state, and bringing down the pomp and pride of episcopacy in the Church. The course which they actually pursued shaped itself according to the discipline of circumstances. Their views widened as they went along. As is often the case in times of change, these reformers in the end were forced to seek more than they originally imagined. First denied the little which might have contented them, they felt prompted to a further struggle, and naturally claimed more and more: it was but the story of the Sybil, with her books, repeated once again. Easy is it to point out apparent inconsistencies in the career of men so influenced, and plausible too are the charges against them of concealment, treachery, and breach of faith; but an impartial consideration of facts, and honest views of human nature, will lead to conclusions at once more favourable and more just. The truth is, that the members of the Long Parliament were not theorists intent on working out some perfect ideal, but practical men who looked at things as they were, and with upright intentions endeavoured to mend them as best they could. They aimed at reforming institutions much in the same plodding way as that in which their fathers had founded and reared those institutions. The opening of the States General in France presents in this respect a contrast to the opening of the Long Parliament in England; the brilliant theoristic Frank cannot be confounded with the sober, practical Saxon. The defiance or treachery of opponents filled our religious patriots of the seventeenth century with alarm, drove them to take up a higher position than they at first assumed, and to encamp themselves behind more formidable entrenchments than it then entered into their minds to raise.
Another class in the House of Commons requires attention. Many were favourably disposed to the Church of England, advocating a moderate episcopacy and approving the use of the Common Prayer, with a few alterations. They had no liking for Presbyterian schemes of government, much less for a congregational polity. Their sympathies went with the Church of their fathers, the Church of the Reformation, the Church which was built over the ashes of Ridley, Latimer, and Cranmer. They cannot be called Anglican Catholics; but they were to the heart English Churchmen. Despising the mummeries of Laud, and not liking the instructions of his school, then so common in parish churches—these persons loved the old Gothic and ivy-mantled edifices where they had been baptized and married, and by whose altars their parents slept under quaint old monuments, which touched their hearts whenever they worshipped within the walls. They wished to see the Church of England reformed, not overturned.
Members of the Long Parliament.
1640, November.
Lucius Carey, Viscount Falkland, member for Newport, stood among the chief of this description. His early fate, as well as his high esteem for John Hampden, must ever link their names in affecting companionship. For a time they fought a common battle. What Hampden said at the commencement of the strife about bishops and Anglican High Churchism we do not know; but we know what Falkland said, and shall have occasion to record some of his words, which for fiery sharpness against prelatical assumptions were not surpassed by the speeches of any Puritan. Attempts had been made to bring him over to Popery, which had led to his reading the Fathers and pursuing the controversy for himself.[86] Thus skilled in the knowledge of the whole question, the result of his studies was not only an aversion to the finished system of Popery, but a healthful horror of all those insinuating principles and practices which lead to it. A sounder Protestant did not tread the floor of the House than Viscount Falkland. Virtuous and brave, with honour unimpeachable, and with patriotism unsuspected, he wins our heart, even though we lament the course he ultimately pursued. His full-length character, drawn by Clarendon, true and faithful no doubt, though the hand of friendship laid on the colours, inspires the reader with admiration and love: but we are somewhat startled at what the historian says of the physique of his honoured friend: his stature low, his motion not graceful, his aspect far from inviting, with a voice so untuned that none could expect music from that tongue, he was so uncomely that "no man was less beholden to nature for its recommendation into the world." The portrait of Falkland, by Vandyke, hardly confirms this unfavourable description of his appearance by Clarendon, though even there, in spite of cavalier silk and slashed doublet, ample collar tassel-tyed, and flowing locks, the face of the young nobleman wears a somewhat rustic simplicity, albeit, tinged with an expression of sincere good-nature.
Members of the Long Parliament.
A chief place amongst Church reformers during the first few months of the Long Parliament must be assigned to Sir Edward Dering. He represented the Kentish yeomen, the majority of whom had been driven into Puritanism by the Anglo-Catholic zeal of Laud; and he expressed the predominant feeling of the county, when he quaintly said, "he hoped Laud would have more grace, or no grace at all." Chairman of a sub-committee for religion, and a frequent and ardent speaker, he gathered round him the sympathies of the party opposed to the government, and was hailed by the citizens of London with "God bless your worship!" while the people—who in those days gathered about the doors of the House of Commons, as crowds do still, to cheer their favourite members—pointed to him as the man of the day, exclaiming, "There goes Sir Edward Dering!" This he tells us himself—an indication of his egotism. Vanity, no doubt, and weakness mixed themselves with his impetuous but persistent pursuit of an object, of which many laughable examples are furnished in the story of his life.[87] Impetuous and rash, flexible to flattery, neither firm nor courageous under opposition, he was, nevertheless, amiable, well-meaning, patriotic, gentlemanly, and even chivalrous. He could reason with force, and declaim with eloquence, being no less fervent in his religious affections than in his political sentiments. The comely person of the Kentish baronet aided his popularity, and so did his genial manners, in spite of his hasty temper.[88]
Posthumous fame is often not at all in proportion to contemporary influence. Sir Edward Dering is now by many forgotten, and, even John Pym, perhaps, does not hold the place in history which he did in life; yet, in the early days of the Long Parliament, these persons were more conspicuous in debate, and had more weight with the populace than John Hampden or Oliver Cromwell.
Amongst the class at first favourable to extensive ecclesiastical reforms was also that mercurial royalist, Lord Digby, who represented Dorsetshire, and afterwards became Earl of Bristol. He soon diverged very far from his early compatriots, and played a part which must always affix dishonour to his name, whatever opinion may be formed of the cause he espoused.
1640, November.
All the persons now mentioned acted together in ecclesiastical affairs, more or less intimately, at the opening of Parliament. Those who came nearest to one another in opinion had meetings for conference. Pym, Hampden, Fiennes, and Vane the younger, with some liberal noblemen of the Upper House, were wont to assemble at Broughton Castle, Oxfordshire, the seat of Lord Say, Fiennes' father, and at Tawsley, in Northamptonshire, the mansion of Sir Richard Knightley, father-in-law to Hampden. A story is related—not a very likely one—that in certain old stone-walled and casemated rooms, shown in the castle, the worthies[89] used to meet lest they should be detected; and, which is more probable, that a printing-press, established in the mansion by Sir Richard's father, was applied to their purposes. Perhaps about the same time, meetings of a similar kind were also held at Kensington, in the noble mansion of Lord Holland, one of the statesmen who took part in these conferences. There were gatherings in Gray's Inn Lane, too, whither reports came up from the country, and whence intelligence was distributed amongst the city patriots. After the opening of Parliament, Pym's lodgings at Westminster became a place of rendezvous, at least for a select few. But though these consultations so far obtained amongst certain chiefs, it must not be supposed that there existed a large organized party, resembling the phalanx which till of late years used compactly to follow some great leader. The two parties into which the House of Commons fell did by no means distinctly divide at first. How, on ecclesiastical questions they formed, and took up their position, will be seen as we proceed.
Members of the Long Parliament.
Certainly there can be traced nothing like an organized party for defending the Church. The King and the bishops, with many of the nobility and a number of the people, were sincerely attached to the Establishment, and were prepared to admit only slight changes in its constitution. In the House of Commons, however, where its battle had to be fought, and its fate decided, there did not appear any strong alliance, or any distinct advocacy in its favour. It is surprising that in the early debates, when so many voices fiercely proclaimed its corruptions, so few made themselves heard in its defence. No chivalrous spirit stepped forward to resist the band of assailants. The tide flowed in. Not one strong man attempted to build a breakwater.
Edward Hyde, who did so much for the Church of England at the Restoration, did little for it in this crisis of its fate. It is true he was a young man, and without great influence, but he shewed no heroism on its behalf; indeed, heroism was foreign to his nature. What he attempted he himself describes, and that the reader will discover to be paltry enough.
In the Upper House were the bishops, who might naturally be esteemed as guardians and defenders of the Church in the hour of need. But there were none of them possessed of that statesman-like ability, without which it would have been impossible to preserve the Episcopal Establishment in the shock of revolution. Laud, no doubt, had great talents and abundant courage, but the blunders he had made in driving the ship on to the rocks, gave no hope that he would have skill enough to pilot the ship off, even if granted the opportunity. But he had not even the opportunity. Hardly did the Long Parliament open when his indignant enemies thrust him from the helm. The conduct of other bishops had only served to strip them of the last chance of saving their order. The best on the bench shared in the obloquy brought on all by the intolerance and corruption of the worst, while none of them possessed the mental and moral calibre necessary for dealing with those huge difficulties amidst which the Church of England had now been dashed.
1640, November.
Puritans too, it should be remembered, sat in the Upper as well as in the Lower House. Amongst them may be numbered Devereux, Earl of Essex; Seymour, Earl of Hertford; Rich, Earl of Warwick; Rich, Earl of Holland; Viscount Say and Sele, Viscount Mandeville, Baron Wharton, Greville, Lord Brook, and others. Some of these will appear in the following pages, and of them in general we may observe that they did not lack astuteness, courage, and power. Anglicanism might be stronger in the House of Lords than in the House of Commons; but Puritanism, on the whole, appeared stronger than Anglicanism even there.
One man alone could be found capable of doing aught to preserve the Church in this hour of her adversity. Could Lord Strafford have carried out his thorough policy, had he been left free to pursue his course, had no coup d'etat come in the way to arrest his daring ambition, and crush his despotic projects; he might, with his subtle brain, brave heart, and iron hand, have defeated the patriots once more, and so have saved the Anglican Establishment awhile. Another dissolution, or some arbitrary arrests, would, for a season, have crushed Pym and his party. That, however, was not to be.
