CHAPTER V.
The May-day of 1641 was as merry as usual, save where Puritan opinions interfered with its time-honoured festivities. The May-pole was brought into the City and reared at St. Andrew's Undershaft with the accustomed honours. The morris-dancers, with Robin Hood, Maid Marian, Friar Tuck, and the other appurtenances of the show, made sport for those citizens who were attached to the old order of things. And in spite of Stubbs' "Anatomie of Abuses," which exposed these sports as heathenish practices, such persons looked on them as the symbols of an anti-Puritan loyalty, and of an old-fashioned affection for Church and State. At the same period, preparations were being made at Whitehall for the nuptials of the Princess Mary and the Prince of Orange; and the next day, being Sunday, the bride was led into the Chapel by the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, "convoyed with a number of ladies of her own age of nine and ten years, all in cloth of silver," when the King gave away the bride, and "good Bishop Wren made the marriage."[168] The destinies of England were mysteriously connected with the consequences of this royal union, and little could the brilliant party before the altar, dream that from the wedded pair would spring a son, destined to cut off one branch of the Stuart dynasty for ever from the British throne; to complete the series of revolutionary events beginning to arise at the time of the marriage; and to establish for ages the civil and religious liberties of the English Constitution.
1641, May.
The month so inaugurated proved most eventful. During April the perils of the nation had been on the increase. Plots were contrived by the King's friends to bring up the army to London and force a dissolution of Parliament. Pym, on the 3rd of May, declared that "combinations at home" corresponded with "practices abroad," and that the French were drawing their forces towards the English shores; that divers persons of eminence about the Queen were deeply engaged in these plots; that it was necessary for the ports to be closed, and that it was time to ask His Majesty to forbid any one who attended Court to leave these shores without special permission. Sir John Wray, member for the county of Lincoln, made a speech immediately after Pym had spoken, in which he urged, that if ever it was meant to perfect and finish the great work begun, the right way must be followed, which was to become holy pilgrims, not Popish ones. This he explained as meaning that they were to be loyal Covenanters with God and the King; binding themselves by a national oath to preserve religion in this country, without mixture of superstition or idolatry, and to defend the Defender of the Faith, his person, crown, and dignity. Doing this, and making Jerusalem their chiefest joy, the nation would be blessed; but if the people let go their Christian hold, and lost their Parliament-proof and old English well-tempered mettle, let them take heed lest their buckler break, and their Parliaments melt away, and their golden candlestick be removed for ever.[169]
Debates in the House of Commons.
In consequence of these appeals, the Commons resolved upon a solemn Vow and Protestation, to defend, as far as lawful, "with life, power, and estate, the true reformed Protestant religion" of the Church of England, against all popery and popish innovations; to maintain the privilege of Parliament, and the liberties of the subject; and to endeavour to bring to condign punishment any person who should engage in conspiracy, or do anything contrary to this Protestation.[170] It was forthwith taken by every member, and then the document was sent up to the Lords. The peers present, except the Earl of Southampton and Lord Roberts, followed the example of the Commons. In two days the formulary had passed the lips of eighty temporal lords, seventeen bishops, nine judges, and four hundred and thirty-eight commoners. It was then printed and sent to the magistrates throughout the kingdom, with an order that it should be solemnly adopted on the following Sunday by heads of families and all persons of proper age.[171]
1641, May.
Of course, questions arose as to the meaning of the words, in many cases, no doubt, after they had been sealed by oath. Episcopalians took the declaration to mean defending the Protestant religion, as in the Church of England by law established. No such thing, said the Puritan majority of the Lower House; it includes not the hierarchy. It is against all popery and popish innovations, not for the discipline worship and ceremonies of the Church as they stand at present.[172] The Commons, having so explained their own measure, afterwards passed a Bill for its universal enforcement, which however was objected to by the Lords. A conference between the two Houses followed, conducted by Denzil Holles, who defended the imposition of the oath, as a shibboleth to distinguish Ephraimites from Gileadites. With his reasons, "after some debate, the Lords seemed satisfied."[173] The proceeding shewed the alarm of the representatives of the people, lest they should be checkmated by their opponents. It indicated a determination to abide by what had been done, and further to grapple with all Papistical tendencies; whilst the Protestation itself anticipated the more famous Covenant of an after year, much to the joy of Robert Baillie, who, writing from his house in St. Antholin's, on the 4th of May, informed a Scotch brother: "After much debate, at last, blessed be the name of the Lord, they all swore and subscribed the writ, which here you have, I hope in substance, our Scottish covenant."[174] The intolerance and injustice of the imposition could not be seen in those days as it is in ours. Intended to secure liberty for such as were counted its only friends, it in fact partook of that very injustice, which, when exercised on the other side, appeared intolerable.
Debates in the House of Commons.
The resolute temper of the House of Commons, in resolving upon the enforcement of the Protestation in spite of the Lords, is to be ascribed very much to the new position in which the House had placed itself. Mistrusting the intentions of the King, fearful of another dissolution, which would frustrate all patriotic plans, the representatives of the people had passed a Bill to render Parliament indissoluble until it should dissolve itself. The Bill was read a third time on the 7th of May, and such was the ascendancy of the Commons, that the King—either struck for a moment, as if by the eye of a basilisk, or intending to violate the Act, should it be in his power; or influenced by "his own shame and the Queen's consternation at the discovery of the late plot"[175]—gave his assent to the fatal measure only two days after it had passed the Lords.
1641, May.
During the progress of the Protestation, the Londoners manifested the greatest excitement; crowds assembled in Palace Yard, and the King sent a message to the House of Lords to say, that, taking notice of the great tumult and concourse of people, he had called a council to advise what should be done, and it was his pleasure that Parliament should adopt some speedy course for preserving peace.[176] A laughable circumstance occurred amidst this panic. Two fat citizens, in the gallery of the Commons, stood earnestly listening to Sir Walter Erle, whilst he was descanting on the dangers of the times. Just then, an old board gave a loud creak, and Sir John Wray, imagining a second Guy Fawkes concealed in the cellar, called out, "he smelt gunpowder." This was enough. Knights and burgesses rushed out and frightened the people in the lobby, and the people in the lobby ran into Westminster Hall, crying, "the Parliament House was falling, and the members were slain." A few, scampering as fast as they could to Westminster Stairs, took water, and rowing at the top of their speed, reached the City, where they caused the alarm drums to beat, and the train bands to march as far as Covent Garden. All this arose from the creaking of a rotten board.[177]
The exposure of these idle fears did not, however, compose the House; for, on the 10th of May, members were in such consternation about a gunpowder plot, that the Serjeant-at-arms received an order to get the holes of the floor examined and stopped up; also a committee of five proceeded carefully to search the building to discover and prevent the designs of any ill-affected persons who might be imitating the example of Guy Fawkes. Whilst we smile at these unfounded terrors, we must believe some real danger to have been in the wind, to make strong hearts, such as beat in the Long Parliament, thus flutter with apprehension.
Debates in the House of Commons.
1641, May.
About the same time London echoed with "No popery riots." The presence of Marie de' Medicis in England excited immense uneasiness; and the zeal of that lady and her daughter, Queen Henrietta Maria, on behalf of the interests of the Roman Catholic religion, came to be regarded by Puritan citizens as a fountain of intrigue. At the end of April, the London apprentices—a class always foremost in city frays—catching the spirit of their sires and elders, gave it violent expression, by assaulting the Spanish ambassador's house in Bishopsgate Street, threatening to pull it about his Excellency's ears, and to take his life in revenge for permitting English Papists to frequent his chapel.[178]
Other tumults and a deeper excitement appear in connexion with the trial of Strafford. Though the charges against him were chiefly of a political character, and his overthrow was accomplished mainly for political reasons, yet the religious feelings of the Puritans were intensely excited against this arbitrary chieftain, as the friend of Laud, and the abettor of his High Church policy. They saw in him the evil genius of the past, and his removal seemed to them essential for accomplishing the ecclesiastical reforms which they desired.[179] The conclusions which a student will reach, or the doubts that he will entertain touching the righteousness of Strafford's attainder and sentence, depend entirely upon the point of view from which he may regard the question. No wonder that lawyers now pronounce the attainder infamous.[180] Looking at the statutes of treason, it is impossible to bring the conduct of the Earl within their scope. The subversion of the fundamental laws of the kingdom, with which Strafford was charged, can never be fairly construed into an act of treason against the King. But politicians, examining the subject on grounds of expediency, may regard the proceeding as one of necessity to save the liberties of England. They may also think, as some did at the time, that "stone dead hath no fellow"—that the only effectual way of getting rid of so formidable an enemy was at once to put him in his coffin; and, as a matter of state policy—overriding all statute and common law—such persons will pronounce the execution of Strafford perfectly justifiable. But when the moralist comes to investigate the matter, it assumes a different aspect. He will admit—unless he be under the influence of strong political prejudices—that the Earl was guilty of high crimes and misdemeanours; and that, though not guilty of treason at common or statute law, he was guilty of subverting the principles of the constitution. On grounds therefore of moral equity, it was right to inflict some punishment on the offender. But to what extent? Perpetual imprisonment, with proper precautions against rescue, might have sufficed to meet all which political expediency required. Sent out of the way, shut up in some strong castle, the Earl might have been rendered perfectly innocuous; and it may fairly be contended further, that such a proceeding would have accomplished the ends of justice—that such an expiation ought to have satisfied the moral indignation of the country. Yet, when that point is settled, another arises, which demands consideration from the historian.
Lord Strafford.
While, free from the excitements of the seventeenth century, we calmly look at Strafford's deserts, is it fair to apply our standard of judgment to the patriots and Puritans of 1641 who took part in his condemnation? Right and wrong, it is true, in themselves are unalterable and eternal, but there are almost infinite degrees in the blameworthiness of men doing wrong, as there are in the meritoriousness of men doing right. Allowance being made for different ideas of criminal jurisprudence in the times of the Stuarts from those now current; and excuses being admitted for stern severity provoked by long oppression,—the patriots and Puritans who put Strafford to death must not be condemned as men would be who had done such a thing in our own times. If it be allowed that the Puritans acted under a sense of mistaken justice; that, standing before the bar of Heaven, they could lay their hands on their breasts, and plead the convictions of conscience and the impulses of patriotism; then, however condemnatory the deed, lenient should be the sentence on the offenders. I am not however prepared to contend for the absence of all vindictiveness in the men who brought Strafford to trial, and then sent him to the scaffold. One cannot but fear that a large amount of alloy was mixed up with the purity of their justice. But that must be left for the decision of a far different tribunal from any which we can erect.
1641, May.
Every reader of English history is aware of the perplexity of Charles when required by Parliament to sanction the death of his Minister. He did not believe Strafford guilty of treason, and he consequently regarded his execution as unjust. Yet he sought for some method of pacifying his conscience, and consulted certain Bishops[181] as to the course that he should pursue. The general advice they gave is reported by the most distinguished of the counsellors. Ussher puts it thus: The matter of fact must be distinguished from the matter of law; of the matter of fact the King may judge; if he do not conceive the Earl guilty, he cannot in justice condemn him; but as for law, what is treason, and what is not, the King must rely on the opinion of the judges.[182]
Lord Strafford.
This casuistry of Charles's advisers indicated the timid expediency of politicians rather than the grave righteousness of God's ministers. But what followed was much worse. One of them—probably Williams—suggested a distinction between the public capacity of Charles as a king, and the private capacity of Charles as a man; a distinction worthy only of a Jesuit, and such as, if allowed, would tear up the roots of all morality in official life.[183] It appears that the other prelates were not responsible for this suggestion. Still reserve is seen on the part of the best men amongst the monarch's advisers, very unlike the outspoken habits of old Hebrew prophets. In their conduct there is much to provoke censure, though in their circumstances there is something to suggest excuse.
In justice to Ussher, let it be added, that he recommended the King not to consent to the Earl's condemnation unless he was convinced of his guilt. Charles himself declared, "After the bill was passed, the Archbishop came to me, saying, with tears in his eyes, 'Oh, Sir, what have you done? I fear that this act may prove a great trouble to your conscience, and pray God that your Majesty may never suffer by the signing of this Bill.'" The Episcopal party, though they did nothing decidedly against the execution of Strafford, ever afterwards regarded it as a dark spot in their royal master's history. They were certainly themselves not free from blame, for if they regarded the proceeding as they said they did, it became them to do their utmost to save Strafford's life. But the truth is, as the Minister was made a Jonah to still the storm, so the Monarch was made a scape-goat to bear the responsibility of throwing him overboard. With the superstition natural to a man wanting in straightforward principle, Charles, in the midst of his after troubles, promised to expiate his offence by public penance, should he ever be restored to his throne. That day of penance never came: but the moral effect of Strafford's dignified conduct in prison and on the scaffold has been such as to soften the opinion of posterity respecting his character, and to increase the condemnation pronounced by history upon Charles for consenting to his death. Strafford's last moments were the noblest of his life. The scene, as he knelt under Laud's window in the Tower to receive his benediction, touches English hearts to this very hour; pity is felt for the man going to his doom on the adjoining hill, which would never have been inspired had his fate been imprisonment instead of death. Both injustice and impolicy are sure to meet revenge, as Providence slowly knits up the threads of time.
1641, May.
Strafford fell on the 12th of May. Amidst the mingled awe and exultation of the moment—whilst the name of the nobleman who had perished passed from lip to lip through London, and the sawdust on the scaffold continued moist with blood—the House of Commons calmly sat to hear an appeal respecting Deans and Chapters. The men, who unconscious of guilt had brought Strafford to the block, and had thus swept from their path a huge obstacle, were at this awful moment quietly pursuing their measures of ecclesiastical reform. The event of the morning, however, one would imagine, came too vividly before them to allow of perfectly serene attention to the pleadings carried on in their presence.
Deans and Chapters.
Great alarm had been felt for the safety of cathedral establishments, although no measure at present had appeared in either House affecting their dignity or diminishing their revenues. But reports of approaching danger were rife, which did not at first alarm and arouse the "prelatical court clergy" so much as it did some others. They waited to see distinctly what impended before attempting a defence. Now they bestirred themselves and prepared petitions, and being informed that the order of the House would not permit of their employing counsel, they delegated Dr. John Hacket, Prebendary of St. Paul's and Archdeacon of Bedford, to plead their cause. On this 12th of May, Hacket came up to the bar of the House to fulfil an office which, he said, had been assigned to him only the afternoon before. He pleaded, that cathedrals supplied the defects of private worship, though he quaintly admitted that—through the super-inquisitiveness of the music—what was intended for devotion vanished away into quavers and airs, whereof he wished the amendment; and passing to what he termed "the other wing of the cherubim," he expatiated on the excellent preaching supplied by these establishments; refuting, by the way, slanders on lecturers as an upstart corporation, and shewing that the local statutes of most cathedrals required week-day lectures. The advocate urged further, that Deans and Chapters advanced the cause of learning, and provided persons for defending the Church. Moreover, he said, the institute comported with primitive usage, being in fact a senatus episcopi, and therefore meeting a want of which some of his reverend brethren complained. Warming with his subject, he praised the magnificence of cathedral buildings, mentioned the number dependent on the foundations, insisted on the excellence of Deans and Chapters as landlords, and their enrichment of cities by their residence and hospitality. The Doctor proceeded to uphold cathedral revenues as prizes to stimulate lawful ambition, and contended for a better maintenance of the clergy than in neighbouring reformed Churches—that they might not be like "Jeroboam's priests, the basest of all the people." To destroy Deans and Chapters, he added, would please the Papists—to preserve them would benefit the nation. He concluded by observing that the honour of God was at stake in this matter, that alienation of church property would be sacrilege, and that "on the ruins of the rewards of learning no structure can be raised but ignorance; and upon the chaos of ignorance nothing can be built but profaneness and confusion."[184]
Dr. Cornelius Burgess, a London lecturer of Presbyterian principles, appeared in the afternoon of the same eventful day, and indulged in "a vehement invective against Deans and Chapters," their want of Scripture authority, and their utter unprofitableness. He charged some of the singing men with debauchery, and all with uselessness.[185] Yet he considered it unlawful to convert the revenues to private uses. In his opinion they ought to be consecrated to public purposes of a religious kind. After hearing the arguments of Hacket and Burgess, the House allowed the matter to stand over for a while. Hereafter we shall have to notice its re-appearance.
1641, May.
The Commons a few days afterwards (May 17) gave signs of coming under Presbyterian influence. Having debated certain propositions presented by the Scotch commissioners, they reciprocated by resolution the affectionate regards of their brethren, and their desires for uniformity in Church government. They went so far as to pledge themselves to proceed in due time with reformatory measures, such as should "best conduce to the glory of God and the peace of the Church." Three days subsequently, the House set aside the oath of canonical obedience, by voting that no minister should be obliged to take any oath upon his induction, except such as Scripture warranted.[186] In all this, a current of feeling against Episcopacy is distinctly visible.
Abolition of Episcopacy.
The Bill for "Restraining Bishops from intermeddling with Secular Affairs" came again under debate. It had been sent to the Upper House on the 1st of May, when Bishop Hall made a speech against it.[187] The Bill reached a second reading, and was committed on the 14th. Whatever idea of compromise by passing this measure might have existed among the Commons, no such idea was entertained by the Lords. They disputed the question with all the logic and eloquence they could master; evidently regarding the overthrow of this measure as of vital moment. The Right Reverend bench stood firm, and the Bishop of Lincoln—to shew that his committee of accommodation meant nothing prejudicial to the order—boldly defended it in a speech which was full of learning and rhetoric. Lord Viscount Newark also strenuously opposed the Bill; but it received earnest support from the Puritan Lord Say and Sele. Yet the latter wished their lordships not to regard it as introduced with any ulterior view,—telling them, it meant not the taking away of Episcopacy root and branch, but only the lopping off exuberant and superfluous boughs which now wasted the juices of the tree. The Lords feared the consequence of passing the bill, and deemed the episcopal status amongst them as of ancient and inalienable right. So they resolved, that Archbishops and Bishops should have "suffrage and voice as ever;" but to the other propositions they agreed, viz:—that prelates should have nothing to do with the Star Chamber Court or the Privy Council, and that no clergyman should be any longer a Justice of the Peace. These points a year before—had Strafford and Laud conceded them when they were in power—would have been counted an immense concession. But ecclesiastical as well as political matters had since passed through a whole heaven of change; therefore the three articles granted by the Lords were by the Commons deemed trifles unworthy of acceptance apart from the first.
1641, May.
On the 24th of May, the resolution described passed the House of Lords. The impression which it made on the Commons is plain from what ensued. The patriots knitted their brows when the tidings reached them, and compressed their lips in firm determination to subdue the lordly prelates. We now reach an important crisis.
The Commons assembled as usual on the 27th of May. A petition came from the Lincolnshire farmers and burghers, with many hands to it, praying for the abolition of the government of Archbishops and Bishops, and their numerous subordinates.[188] As the gentlemen in broadbrimmed hats and scanty cloaks with goodly neck-ruffs or ample collars sat gravely pondering these ominous petitions,—suddenly, from a well-known voice, a short speech broke on their ears like the explosion of a bombshell. On the southern, or right-hand corner of St. Stephen's Chapel, a ladder might have been discovered, leading up to a gallery where certain members were accustomed to sit. Sir Arthur Haselrig commonly took his place there. That morning Sir Edward Dering was seen striding up the ladder to a seat next Sir Arthur. The member for Leicestershire held close and earnest conference with the Kentish knight. A paper was pressed into his hands, and after a hasty perusal, with a good-natured air of importance, he rose, leaned over the gallery, and made the following impromptu remarks:—
Abolition of Episcopacy.
"Mr. Speaker—The gentleman that spake last, taking notice of the multitude of complaints and complainants against the present government of the Church, doth somewhat seem to wonder that we have no more pursuit ready against the persons offending. Sir, the time is present, and the work is ready perhaps beyond his expectation. Sir, I am now the instrument to present unto you a very short but a very sharp Bill, such as these times and their sad necessities have brought forth. It speaks a free language, and makes a bold request. It is a purging Bill. I give it you as I take physic, not for delight but for a cure. A cure now, the last and only cure, if as I hope all other remedies have been first tried, then—immedicabile vulnus, &c., but cuncta prius tentanda. I never was for ruin so long as I could hold any hope of reforming. My hopes that way are even almost withered. This Bill is entitled, 'An Act for the utter abolishing and taking away of all Archbishops, Bishops, their Chancellors and Commissaries, Deans, Deans and Chapters, Archdeacons, Prebendaries, Chanters, and Canons, and all other their under officers.' Sir, you see their demerits have exposed them, publici odii piaculares victimas. I am sorry they are so ill. I am sorry they will not be content to be bettered, which I did hope would have been effected by our last Bill. When this Bill is perfected I shall give a sad aye unto it; and at the delivery in thereof, I do now profess beforehand, that if my former hopes of a full Reformation may yet revive and prosper, I will again divide my sense upon this Bill, and yield my shoulders to under-prop the primitive, lawful, and just Episcopacy; yet so as that I will never be wanting with my utmost pains and prayers to root out all the undue adjuncts and superstructures on it. I beseech you read the Bill, and weigh well the work."[189]
1641, May.
It was an odd speech for any man to make who had undertaken so grave a business, and it looked doubly odd that Sir Edward Dering should father such a motion; seeing that, though he was a Puritan, he professed to love the Episcopal Church. Men stared and wondered. A pause followed. Then some one moved, that the Bill might not be read:—
"That it was against the custom and rule of the House that any private person should take upon him, without having first obtained the leave and direction of the House to bring in a new Act, so much as to abrogate and abolish any old single law; and therefore that it was wonderful presumption in that gentleman, to bring in a Bill that overthrew and repealed so many Acts of Parliament, and changed and confounded the whole frame of the government of the kingdom."[190]
The Bill, however, was then read a first time. On the motion for the second reading, Sir John Culpeper, one of the popular party, opposed it on the ground, that Episcopal government was not beyond all hope of reformation. He advised the House to see what the Lords would yet do with the Bill sent up to them. D'Ewes supported the second reading. Sir Charles Williams, member for Monmouthshire, opposed it, declaring that he would divide the House, though there should be "but six noes." For this he was called to account, and compelled to apologize, to "the good satisfaction of the House." The second reading passed by 139 to 108. On a resumption of the debate, Pleydell and Hyde took the lead in opposing the measure. The latter argued that Church and State had flourished many centuries under the present ecclesiastical rule, and that the Bill must not be hastily adopted, since it contained matter of great weight and importance. D'Ewes promptly replied, that the existing ecclesiastical rule had hardly reached its hundredth year. Hyde would have rejoined, but the House did not allow him so to do. Holles and Pym followed, contending that bishops had well nigh ruined all religion, and complaining that they had determined to continue in the Upper House, despite the opposition of the Lower. The Commons ordered the Bill to be committed on the 3rd of June. It was then deferred to the 11th of the same month.[191]
Abolition of Episcopacy.
Dering's conduct at the time appeared a mystery. Afterwards he explained,[192] that he had nothing to do with the preparation of the measure—that it was entrusted to him by Sir Arthur Haselrig, who had received it from Sir Harry Vane and Oliver Cromwell. It further appears, that he scarcely read the motion before moving its adoption. Haselrig's connection with this bold proceeding, as well as with Strafford's attainder, are proofs of his having then assumed a prominent position amongst ultra-politicians; but the character of the measure would rather suggest that Sir Harry Vane must really have been its author. Cromwell's relation to it is also worthy of notice, as it indicates his advanced opinions at the period, and his already active and influential statesmanship. According to Clarendon, the Solicitor General, Oliver St. John, "the dark-lantern man," had drawn up the Bill—a statement, which, if true, shows another of the republican commonwealth men taking up an extreme position at the outset of the strife.[193]
1641, June.
No doubt the concocters of this design considered that it would meet with better acceptance if presented by a merely doctrinal Puritan; and it indicates the excited temper of the Commons at the moment, and how the resistance of the Lords had wrought them up to a resolution of frightening mitred heads—that the Bill immediately came to a second reading, and that too by such a majority. Moreover, it expressed growing indignation against the course of oppression with which Episcopacy stood identified. For long years the Church had been sowing the wind—now, in a few short hours, it reaped the whirlwind. To those who wished to get rid of Episcopacy altogether, the proceedings of the Lords, although very exasperating, would not be altogether unwelcome, as advanced politicians might gather from it an argument against what they deemed to be half-measures. They asked—since bishops cling so tenaciously to their temporalities, would it not be as easy to get rid of both, as to tear one from the other? Some moderate men, discouraged and annoyed, were thus thrown into the arms of excited companions. Policy led them on to extremes, hoping that the boldness of the people's representatives now in the ascendant, would alarm the Lords, especially the spiritual ones, and induce them to give way, even on a point where they had staked their fortunes and planted the defence of their order.
Debates by the Commons.
As the business of Dering's bill was under debate, a message arrived from the Upper House, signifying a readiness to concur in the Bill which they had already received, excepting only the clause for taking away the bishops' votes. "This message," we are told, "took little effect with the Commons."[194]
A conference followed on the 3rd of June, when the peers were as decided as the Commons. They contended that there could be no question of the bishops' right to sit in Parliament, as well by common and statute law as by constant practice; and they further declared, that they knew of no inconveniences attending the privilege; still, if there were any, they were ready to consider them.[195] In reply the Commons alleged, that intermeddling with secular business hindered the exercise of ministerial functions, and that bishops should devote themselves entirely to their spiritual vocation. They added, that councils and canons forbid their engaging in secular affairs—that the twenty-four bishops are dependent on two archbishops—that with a peerage only for life, they are ever hoping for translation—that of late several prelates had encroached on the liberty of conscience belonging to His Majesty's subjects, and would still do so—and that they were pledged in their parliamentary character to maintain a jurisdiction grievous to the three kingdoms, and already abolished in Scotland, while it was petitioned against both in England and Wales. Finally, the Commons urged that rank as peers placed the prelates at too great a distance from the rest of the clergy. The arguments of neither House satisfied the other. The Commons could not accept the answer of the Lords. We will, declared they, have the whole Bill or none. Then, replied the Lords, you shall have none; and threw it out altogether. A wedge had before entered the oak of the English constitution. This blow split the two branches asunder, and they stood apart wider than before.
1641, June.
The Commons went on their way, and framed a piece of Sabbath legislation, by prohibiting bargemen and lightermen from using their barks on the day of rest. Further, they separated ancient usages from parish perambulations, by requiring that no service should be said, nor any psalms sung when such perambulations took place. And then—perhaps to cover the measure against the bishops with some show of zeal for clerical order—the House reproved some poor people brought before them for schismatical irregularities.[196]
Debates by the Commons.
Needing themselves a lesson on religious liberty, the Commons resolved to follow up their attack on those whom they considered to be its greatest enemies. "We fell upon the great debate of the Bill of Episcopacy," observes D'Ewes, in his Diary, June 11. "Robert Harley, as I gathered, Mr. Pym, Mr. Hampden, and others, with Mr. Stephen Marshall, parson, of Finchingfield, in the county of Essex, and some others, had met yesternight and appointed, that this Bill should be proceeded withal this morning. And the said Sir Robert Harley moved it first in the House, for Mr. Hampden out of his serpentine subtlety did still put others to move those businesses that he contrived."[197] From this passage it appears, that Pym had within six months made a considerable advance in his advocacy of ecclesiastical reform. It will be recollected, that in January he "thought it was not the intention of the House to abolish Episcopacy," but now before Midsummer he seems to agree in opinion with the "root and branch men." Hampden, probably, entered the Long Parliament with at least a deep suspicion of the inexpediency of upholding episcopal rule: and both he and Pym were now in close conference with Stephen Marshall, the famous Presbyterian divine: who, by the way, affords an instance of the active part in political movements for the overthrow of bishops, which even then had begun to be taken by clergymen of his order. D'Ewes further reports:—"So after a little debate the House was resolved into a committee, and Mr. Edward Hyde (a young utter-barrister of the Middle Temple), upon the speaker's leaving his chair, went into the clerk's chair, and there sat also many days after." The making Hyde chairman was a stroke of policy—so he says himself—on the part of those who were favourable to the Bill, on the ground that thus he would be prevented from speaking against it.
According to his own account, he amply revenged himself, and proved no small hindrance, by mystifying questions and frequently reporting "two or three votes directly contrary to each other," so that after nearly twenty days spent in that manner, the Commons "found themselves very little advanced towards a conclusion."[198] The trick indicates the character of the man; and the confession of it years afterwards, is a sign of his effrontery; indeed, the whole of his conduct on this occasion proves how little he could have had at heart the interests of Episcopacy, not to speak boldly on its behalf, and vindicate that which he professed was venerable in his eyes, in this the crisis of its fate and the hour of its humiliation.
1641, June.
In the course of debate, Sir Harry Vane advocated the abolition of Episcopacy, inveighing against it as a plant which God's right hand had not planted, but one full of rottenness and corruption, a mystery of iniquity fit to be plucked up and removed out of the way. Yet he did not advocate what would now be called the separation of Church and State; nor did he enter upon the defence or exposition of any broad principle of religious liberty. At the same time, Waller, the poet—a lively speaker, who, even at the age of eighty, could amuse the House with his badinage and wit—protested against further attacks on Episcopacy, now that its horns and claws were cut and pared. He was, he said, for reform, not for abolition. Upon the close of the debate on the 11th—which lasted from early in the morning till late at night—the committee, in spite of Mr. Hyde's expedients, resolved on the preamble of the Bill: "Whereas the government of the Church of England by archbishops, bishops, their chancellors, and commissaries, deans, archdeacons, and other ecclesiastical officers, hath been found, by long experience, to be a great impediment to the perfect reformation and growth of religion, and very prejudicial to the civil state and government of this kingdom."[199]
Debates by the Commons.
On the 15th June, during an earnest discussion relative to the abolition of cathedral chapters, Mr. William Thomas, member for Carnarvon, related to the House the history of Deans, tracing them up to the time of Augustine, who describes each as having the care of ten monks; and then he asked, "whether the office, as now it is exercised, be the same as then?" "They are deceived that urge it," the Welsh representative proceeded to say, "and they should know that this judicious House is able to discern and distinguish a counterfeit face of antiquity from the true. In vain do they, with the Gibeonites, labour to deceive us by old sacks, old shoes, old garments, old boots, and old bread that is dry and mouldy; therefore to no purpose and causelessly do they charge us to affect novelty, by our offering to take away church governors and government." He narrated stories of wicked deans; and said much about church music, as tickling the ear, without touching the heart, "whilst, as Augustine complaineth of himself, most were more moved by the sweetness of the song, than by the sense of the matter—working their bane like the deadly touch of the asps in a tickling delight—or as the soft touch of the hyena, which doth infatuate and lull asleep and then devoureth." Sir Benjamin Rudyard, who had before declared himself for Church reform, and still advocated it, offered some defence of cathedral establishments on the ground of their being conducive to the promotion of piety and learning. He deplored the selfishness which, in certain cases, led to the alienation of ecclesiastical property at the time of the Reformation; he warned his hearers against looking on Church lands with a carnal eye, and he besought them to search their hearts, that they might pursue sincere ends, without the least thought of saving their purses. Mr. Pury, alderman and member for Gloucester, produced the statutes which ordained that Deans and Canons should always reside within the cathedral's precincts, exercising the virtues of hospitality; that they should preach the Word in season and out of season, especially in the cathedral church and attend to the education of the young; and that they should have a common table in the Common Hall, where the canons, scholars, choristers, and subordinate officers should meet together. The Alderman then proceeded to observe, that not one of the statutes was kept, that the Dignitaries came once a year to receive the rents and profits of the lands, but did not distribute to the poor their proportion; that they neither mended the highways and bridges, nor kept any common table; and instead of preaching the gospel, they neglected it themselves, and did not encourage the discharge of the duty by others.[200] Throughout this debate the unpopularity at the time of that class, commonly termed the dignified clergy, appears in a very distinct and serious form. They had so completely identified themselves with the High Church party; they had become so imbued with the spirit of pride and intolerance; they had been so selfish in the exaction and enjoyment of their revenues; and they had been so unmindful of their spiritual duties, as to separate themselves from public sympathy:—a consequence which no class of religious ministers, whatever may be their legal and social position, can long afford to brave; a result which the highest privileged orders have never at last been able to face with impunity.
1641, June.
The discussion ended with a resolution that Deans and Chapters, and all Archdeacons should be utterly abolished, and that their lands should be employed for the advancement of learning and piety, competent maintenance being afforded to those who might thereby suffer loss, provided that they were not delinquents. The House further resolved, that the forfeited property should be entrusted to feoffees, that the bishops' lands should be given to the King, except advowsons and impropriations, and that competent funds should be reserved for supporting preachers in cathedrals, and for repairing the sacred edifices.
Debates by the Commons.
Proceeding with the business respecting Deans and Chapters, the committee did not drop the question of Bishops. On the 21st of June no change had come over the pleadings of the originator of the whole discussion. Dering's anti-prelatical zeal had not yet begun to wane, although he now complained of his adopted Bill as defective, and insisted on the importance of deciding on a future form of government before abandoning the present. He still alluded to existing Episcopacy in disrespectful terms, and advocated the introduction of a Presbyterian element into ecclesiastical rule. Dioceses, he said, were too large, and diocesans needed grave and able divines, assessors and assistants, amongst whom they were entitled to have the first place and to exercise the chief power. Then turning to the chairman for an illustration, the lively baronet observed: "Mr. Hyde, yourself are now in this great committee; Mr. Speaker is in the House the bishop of our congregation." "You,"—addressing himself to both gentlemen—"are in yourselves but fellow-members of the same House with us, returned hither (as we also are) to sit on these benches with us, until by our election, and by common suffrage, you are incathedrated. Then you have (and it is fit and necessary that you should have) a precedency before us and a presidency over us. Notwithstanding this, you are not diversified into a several and distinct order from us. You must not swell with that conceit. You (Mr. Chairman and Mr. Speaker) are still the same members of the same House you were, though raised to a painful and careful degree among us and above us. I do heartily wish that we had in every shire of England a bishop such and so regulated for Church government within that sphere, as Mr. Speaker is bounded in, and limited by the rules of this House."[201]
1641, June.
The comparison was as amusing as it was pertinent, and fell in with the prevalent opinion of the Puritan party, that if bishops were retained in England it must be according to a greatly reduced standard of authority and power, and one that should resemble the dimensions of the Episcopal office, as many believed it to have existed in the first and second centuries of the Christian era.
Before we terminate this chapter, another subject requires notice. The Long Parliament, at an early period, turned its attention to the character of the clergy. So many complaints were made against them, that the committee for religion, in the month of May, divided itself into sub-committees, whose business it was to investigate clerical scandals. Their proceedings have been subjected to severe criticism. It is said by Nalson, that accusations against the best ministers, by malicious persons, were invited and encouraged, and then admitted without any proof.[202] But this statement receives contradiction from the evidence which was laid before the Committees, and is still preserved; and though some portion of it might be untrustworthy, as is the case in every kind of judicial trial, other parts of it appear of a nature not to be gainsayed. In conducting these enquiries the practice was to receive written evidence, a practice borrowed from the Court of Arches, where the method of procedure is by libel and affidavit. Englishmen prefer the vivâ voce testimony of witnesses before a jury; yet there are not wanting men of judgment, in modern times, who favour a written statement of fact. At any rate, the Committees could plead precedent for the course which they pursued, and as the causes which came before them were ecclesiastical, they did but adopt the usages of ecclesiastical courts. The constitution of the tribunal, rather than the mode of trial, is open to exception. There is no vindicating the former but on the fundamental principle of all revolutions, that old authorities having become thoroughly corrupt, new ones must be constituted by the popular power—in such cases the supreme power—to meet emergencies arising out of previous derangement.
Debates by the Commons.
Cases which came under the notice of White's committee were published at a later period in his "Century of Scandalous Ministers."[203] On comparing that extraordinary volume with the proceedings of the Kent and Essex Committees, we must be struck with the large proportion in the former, not merely of allegations touching immorality, but of charges respecting the foulest and most atrocious crimes. Most of the complaints before Sir Edward Dering[204] related mainly to delinquencies of a theological, ecclesiastical, or political description; and the same may be said of the accusations brought against the Essex ministers: but on turning over White's pages we are nauseated with the filthiest accusations and the most abominable stories. If only half of them be true, he assuredly was supplied with abundant proofs of the extensive and utter degradation of the clergy. But some of the narratives seem to us so absurd as almost to defy belief; yet supposing that they are truthfully related, it is evident there existed in the parishes of England, at that time, incumbents who must be regarded as no less thoroughly mad than radically immoral.
