CHAPTER VIII.
The schemes of politicians, the proceedings of Parliament, and the administration of affairs by a Council of State—although necessary to be studied in order to obtain a knowledge of external circumstances, such as, under the Commonwealth, powerfully influenced religious society—can convey but a very inadequate idea of the actual working of ecclesiastical institutions at that period; and no conception whatever of the spiritual life either of churches or of individuals. It is requisite, therefore, that we should turn our attention to the inner history of different communions; and not only look somewhat minutely at their character and proceedings, but also glance at a few of the eminent individuals who were connected with them.
Both in theory and practice, Cromwell's Broad Church included Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists. In reviewing the state of these parties respectively, we commence with the Presbyterians.
The Presbyterian scheme of church government,[164] as determined by the Assembly of Divines, contains an enumeration of three kinds of officers—namely, pastors, who both preached and ruled; lay elders, who ruled, but did not preach; and deacons, who chiefly attended to the necessities of the poor. Each congregation was to have its affairs administered by such officers; and upon the Presbytery, consisting of Pastors and Elders,[165] devolved the oversight of communicants, the maintenance of discipline, and the administration of censures. Censures, too, admitted of three degrees—admonition, suspension, and excommunication. Notorious offenders were required to make an acknowledgment of sin before the whole congregation; and if they proved incorrigible, they were to be cut off from the communion of the Lord's Supper, and from the right of bringing their children to be baptized. Means, however, were to be employed for the restoration of such unhappy outcasts.[166]
Presbyterian System.
Next to this congregational or parish Presbytery, and superior to it, was the Classical Assembly, composed of delegates from parish congregations—the number sent by each not being more than four, or less than two. Their business was to take cognizance of the conduct of Ministers and Elders; to admit candidates to office; to enquire into the state of congregations; to decide cases too difficult for settlement by Parochial Elders; and to discharge such legislative functions as did not usurp the authority of the higher courts. Disputes between Ministers and Elders were determined before this classical tribunal. The Provincial Synod formed the next superior court, to which delegates went from the classical Presbyteries; meetings for the Province of Lancaster being held in the church at Preston. Thither appeals were carried, and there judgments were enforced; and there also candidates for the ministry passed through a theological examination. The preliminary trials having reached a satisfactory conclusion, notice was posted on the church door, that the persons approved would be ordained at the end of a month, if no objection were offered. That solemn service included the offering of prayers, the preaching of a sermon, the asking of the Pastor Elect certain questions, and the imposition of hands, with the delivery of a pastoral charge. He afterwards received a certificate of ordination.
To crown the series of church courts, a General Assembly was requisite; but to this point of perfection Presbyterianism in England never attained. Even in Lancashire, where the system appeared in its greatest vigour, its movements were greatly crippled. Episcopalians resisted it; avowing their love for Bishops, continuing to use the surplice and the liturgy, and condemning Presbyterian marriages and sacraments. The want of State authority for the enforcement of a complete scheme of discipline was a great vexation to its advocates; and when the Covenant could no longer be pressed, and the law against the Prayer Book proved a dead letter, the predominant religionists found it difficult to contend against the lingering popularity of ancient forms, and sometimes strove in vain to resist the efforts which were made to introduce ejected Episcopalians into vacant pulpits. They at length discovered it was to their own interest to draw towards their Episcopalian brethren; and before the Commonwealth expired, attempts were made to establish a moderate form of diocesan rule, somewhat after the model ascribed to Archbishop Ussher. The two parties searched for points of ecclesiastical agreement, and went so far as to preach in each other's places of worship. In some cases political sympathies formed a still deeper basis of union. Disliking the Protectorate, and longing for the restoration of royalty, both parties joined in the famous insurrection under Sir George Booth in 1659. And a further bond arose in a common antipathy to the sects and to all unordained ministers.
Herrick at Manchester.
Among the Lancashire Presbyterians were some very remarkable men. Richard Herrick, Warden of the Collegiate church of Manchester, was learned, munificent, disinterested, and conscientious; but he was one of the most passionate of partizans, at a time when partizanship was pre-eminently rife. He had little or no enmity to Episcopacy in the abstract,[167] but only disliked certain individual bishops, whom he considered to have been indifferent to the advances of Popery. The mild Juxon incurred his rebuke, because, as Herrick said, he preferred his hounds and his falcons to the defence of Protestantism. It was mainly through the exertions of the Manchester Warden, that Presbyterianism acquired ascendancy in Lancashire; he having promoted a petition to Parliament for that end, signed by many thousand persons. Resolutely did he resist the sequestration of church lands; doggedly did he refuse to give up the charter chest, even when soldiers came to burst open the door. His sympathy with Love caused him at one time to be placed under arrest; and nothing could induce him to leave Manchester, where he believed Providence had stationed him in troublous times, that he might defend the faith which was beleaguered by so many and such various foes. There in the Collegiate Church—now transformed into a Cathedral—he thundered out his anathemas against Rome, and fearlessly arraigned the proceedings of men in power. John Knox, before the Lords of the Council, and Hugh Latimer, in St. Paul's Churchyard, never launched more fiery bolts against the Mother of Harlots.
Herrick once addressed his audience in the following words—and we give them as a specimen of the kind of oratory then popular, and as a picture, though a very exaggerated one, of the state of things in some parts of England.
"Be pleased to conceive a Parliament at this time convened in Heaven, and God on His throne asking this question: 'Shall I destroy England?' And so some answer after this manner, and some after that: 'Great cry of injustice, of oppression, of wrong, of injury!" 'Blood toucheth blood; courts of justice and committees are courts of robbery and spoil; the poor sheep flies to the bush for shelter, and loses his fleece!' 'Papists and malignants compound, and they oppress their poor tenants that have engaged themselves in the public cause for the Lord against their lords!' A fourth confirms, and concludes with the other three: 'England must be destroyed. They have falsified the oath of God. Oaths and covenants are like Sampson's cords; every one makes use of them to his own interests!' To these agreed many more, so that there was a great cry heard in the house: 'Down with it, down with it, even to the ground!' God looked from His throne, and wondered there was not one found—not one to stand in the gap to make an atonement to speak in the behalf of England. After a short silence, one arose from his seat, and said: 'Lord, wilt Thou destroy England—England, for whom Thou hast done so great things? Wilt Thou destroy what Thine hand hath done? What will the Atheists, the Papists, the malignants say? Surely God was not able to save them. Save them, then, for Thy great name's sake!' A second ariseth, and saith: 'England must not be destroyed! Lord, wilt Thou destroy a righteous nation, if there be fifty, forty, thirty, twenty, ten righteous there? Shall not the judge of all the earth do that which is right? There are seven thousand at least that have not bowed their knees to Baal! There are sixty thousand, and more, yea, than sixty hundred thousand, that cannot discern betwixt the right hand and the left! Thou never didst destroy a praying, a reforming people! Wilt Thou now do what was never in Thy thoughts before?' A third ariseth after the second, and pleads the same cause: 'England must not be destroyed! There is a Parliament in the midst of them—physicians of great value! God hath been amongst them, and in the midst of them; and they are still acting for God and the kingdom's safety! Did ever Parliament perish before?' After all these, the fourth ariseth, that there might not appear fewer to speak for than there was to speak against England: 'England must not be destroyed! They cannot die alone; the three kingdoms must die with them—yea, the Protestants' churches throughout the world! Hast Thou not said that hell gates shall not prevail against Thy people?' To these many more joined in heart and vote, so that there was a considerable party of both sides; nor could it be determined whether had more voices, those that spake for the destruction, or they that spake for the salvation of England. And having said, they were silent.
"And behold, as we read in the Revelation, there was in heaven great silence for half an hour, both sides waiting for God's determination. At last, God in His glorious majesty raised Himself from His throne, and effectually cried out: 'How shall I give thee up, England? how shall I give thee up?' And so, without conclusion and final determination, He dissolved the session, to the admiration and astonishment of both parties."[168]
Martindale.
Adam Martindale, with whom we become intimately acquainted through the medium of his autobiography—had been a tutor, and had kept school in very strange places—even in public-houses, where he had been compelled to share in both bed and board with such companions as Papists, and soldiers, and drunkards. His employment as a schoolmaster had been adopted in order to avoid enlistment as a soldier; yet he was taken prisoner by Prince Rupert in the town of Liverpool, and made to walk without any shoes—the troopers, as he hobbled along, snapping his ears with their pistol-locks. Having been converted under a kind of preaching which he compares to "a sharp needle drawing after it a silken thread of comfort," he wished to enter one of the Universities, and to take holy orders; but, during a visitation of the plague, he was persuaded to preach in Manchester, an incident which led to his immediate entrance upon the sacred office. He became minister of Gorton,—a chapelry in the parish of Manchester,—where his relation to the Manchester Presbytery was somewhat peculiar; for he would not avow himself either a Presbyterian or a Congregationalist, and, although he signed the rules of the Classical Assembly, he would never attend any of the meetings of that body. On leaving Gorton, he accepted the vicarage of Rosthern, in the county of Chester; the parishioners there uniting in an engagement to pay him the sum of £10 quarterly. Not having been ordained, he now sought ordination from the Manchester ministers; and, upon being refused the rite at their hands, he proceeded to London to obtain it there. After much perplexity respecting the Engagement, he at last subscribed, but the subscription seems to have troubled his conscience; and in his new Cheshire incumbency, where he laboured with singular diligence, he met with additional trials from certain "gifted" brethren belonging to a Congregational Church in the neighbourhood who were exceedingly fond of preaching. Nevertheless, he maintained fellowship with Pastors of that denomination, and promoted the establishment of a voluntary union, as distinguished from the Manchester classis, with which institution he ever scrupled to identify himself.
Newcome.
Henry Newcome, another Lancashire minister—more of a Presbyterian than was Martindale—had been educated at Cambridge, and had acquired the art of extempore utterance with much volubility, even before his ordination, which took place in the year 1648. There can be no doubt of the godliness and zeal of this eccentric person; but his eccentricities were so striking, as recorded by himself, that they impart a peculiar interest to his amusing narrative. In his earlier days, whilst Rector of Gawsworth, in the county of Chester, he led an active life, and spent a good deal of time on horseback—like an Arab of the desert, but with more mischances than ever befel any one of those skilful riders—since, for being run away with, for tumbling off his steed, and for being nearly drowned, he had scarcely his fellow; whilst in all such misfortunes, as well as in the deliverances which accompanied them, he traced the hand of a special Providence. In one of his merry moods, when certain gentlewomen from a neighbouring Hall came to call upon him, he frightened the fair visitors by charging and firing off a pistol in fun; and throughout life, games at billiards and at shuffle-board formed the favourite amusement of this lively Divine, for which purpose he frequented an alehouse hard by his residence; although often checking his inclination in that respect, and maintaining in reference to all his recreations a large amount of self-discipline. He would keep close to serious business the whole day, and then, in the evening, he would go out for a little coveted enjoyment. "And for mirth," he says, "which I was afraid of too great a latitude in, I thought it was my duty to let some savoury thing fall where I had spoken merrily, or to count myself truly in debt for as much serious discourse for every jest I had told." There occurs in his diary a case of conscience, as to whether it was right to go and see a "horse in the town of Manchester that was taught to do strange things for such a creature to do." He finds seven reasons against going, and thus concludes: "To go might be a sin, not to go I know was no sin, and therefore this was the safer way."[169]
Next to the county of Lancaster, the Metropolis proved the most favourable soil for Presbyterian piety. There stands in London Wall a quaintly-fashioned edifice—like an old world with a few inhabitants left in it to keep watch and ward—its courts almost as silent and desolate as the Alhambra. Few people now see Sion College, with its almshouses, founded by Dr. Thomas White, Vicar of St. Dunstan's-in-the-West, and its library, the gift of John Simson, Rector of St. Olave's, Hart Street; but it was a place of great resort during the Commonwealth, when its architectural appearance differed from what it is at present; for then a building erected in the time of James I., and consumed afterwards in the London Fire, covered the spot; and in the little rooms of that monastic-like establishment, young London clergymen found lodgings until they could be provided with houses within the parishes which they served. The snug almshouses accommodated ten poor men and ten poor women. The library, even at that time, was extensive, and could boast of some curious old books and MSS., which have since been burnt or lost; and the whole establishment was governed by a President, two Deans, and four Assistants, who were all furnished with a residence within the spacious precincts.
Sion College.
Sion College fell into Presbyterian hands at the outbreak of the civil wars. A list of the successive Presidents is preserved, including several well-known names; and some few particulars of its changeful story have been recorded by one of its librarians.[170] From him we learn how the famous Edmund Calamy occupied the Presidential chair in the year 1650, when Cromwell's soldiers, lately quartered within the walls, were removed at the President's request; and how, the next year, they returned, under Colonel Berkestead, for the safety of the city and the parts adjacent—special care being had that "the library should be kept safe, and no injury done to it." These military gentlemen proved troublesome guests; and the clerk was forced to leave his dwelling, and students and others who paid for their lodgings were also compelled to quit—so that through failure of rent-payments there remained not sufficient money to meet the claims of the officers and the poor. At length, by an order of the Court, thanks were voted to the Protector for removing the soldiers; his Highness at the same time being informed of "the spoil and havoc they had made in the College."
But other matters, of greater importance than the deliverance of the quiet spot from the intrusion of noisy troopers, occupied the attention of those who assembled within the chambers of the College. It was the place of meeting for the members of the London Synod; and there they strove to put in action the ecclesiastical machinery which had been contrived at Westminster. The old minute book of their proceedings—strangely neglected by historians—still exists, and to what we find written on its large folio leaves we are indebted for the following items of information.
Presbyterianism in London.
The Divines of the London and Westminster classes began to assemble in May, 1647, and at once they determined on rules for the guidance of the Moderator, the Scribes, and the members; and, to secure order, they made, amongst others, these two prudent bye-laws: "That private whispering shall be forborne;" and "That no man shall use irreverent or uncomely language, or behaviour." The pecuniary contribution required was but small, each member having to deposit twelvepence towards the charge of the Assembly.
A careful record occurs of petitions to Parliament in the year 1647, complaining that the number of ministers settled was too small; that some of them baptized children in private houses, and married people without the publication of banns or the consent of their parents, much to the encouragement of immorality; that others admitted all sorts of characters to the Lord's table; in short, that numerous hindrances beset the ways of ecclesiastical government. But the Divines were earnest men, and, though discouraged, they would not desist from their attempts. Accordingly, they resolved and re-resolved to bring all the young people who were above nine or ten years of age to public catechising; to persuade heads of families to train up their children and servants in good doctrine; to promote religious conferences in some methodical manner; and to advance the sanctification of the Sabbath, the daily reading of the Scriptures, and the setting up of a regular course of morning and evening prayer. For these purposes parishes were to be subdivided, so that households might come under the inspection of the several Elders. The Committee also prepared forms of exhortation for "furthering the power of godliness," and urged ministers to demonstrate in sermons the great necessity and utility of catechising; the lesser catechism being the enjoined formulary of instruction, and the time appointed for its use being Sunday afternoon before sermon. Repeated lamentations occur relative to Sabbath-breaking, and appeals are ever and anon renewed for preaching on the subject of this great offence. Sorrow is expressed that laws were not put in force for promoting Sabbath observance; and it is touching to read a sentence—written, perhaps, when few were present, and when hearts were faint:—"What though we be poor and despised, we may not forget God's law."
Publications composed in defence of Presbyterian government underwent large discussion, and are copied at length in the minutes. A question was raised in the year 1653, whether anything touching the Anabaptismal controversy should be referred to the Province for discussion or not; and in the year 1654, (July the 10th), Dr. Hammond's book received consideration.[171] Seven days afterwards the committee were of opinion "that it is not fit it should be answered by the Province, and that Mr. Calamy be requested to answer it."[172]
But the Puritan ministers did not possess capacity to do what they desired. Every page of their recorded proceedings indicates want of power. They met, and met again. They debated. They resolved. They prepared exhortations and books. They appointed preachers, and they thanked them for their sermons. But in the old folio there are no signs of decided synodical action. Cognizance indeed is taken of vacancies in the ministry, and in elderships, and of motions made for the "repairing" thereof. Triers are appointed for Elders; rules are laid down for ordination; and notice is taken of irregularities. But it seems scarcely anything in the way of government was really affected. One day, Mr. Pool states the incapacity of the fifth classis to ordain at present. Another day, there are many reports of Elderships left incomplete. Now we read of "Mary's, Aldermanbury," that "the minister acts not;" and then of "Matthew, Friday Street,"[173] that "the minister hath endeavoured to get elders chosen, but cannot move his parishioners to it." And, yet once more, it is said of "Peter's, Paul's wharf," that the people cannot be induced to choose elders, nor to have a minister that may act in the government. A brighter day than usual seems to have dawned in the month of April, 1656, when special notice is taken of the goodness of God in "the willing coming into government," of the people of George's-in-the-Fields, by the godly assistance of Alderman Bigg, one of the elders; and when some one rose in the assembly and spoke of the same thing being done at Bride's. But the minutes generally contain only complaints and exhortations, or entries of mere form. The ministers of Lancashire carried out discipline to some degree of perfection, but the ministers of London never got beyond "perfected rules."[174] The Minute Book in Sion College bears ample witness to the Christian spirit, the indefatigable diligence, and the fervent zeal of the Divines for church order, for family religion, and for personal piety; but it also bears witness as ample, to the failure of all attempts to establish a complete Presbyterian polity in London.[175]
Presbyterianism in London.
No one can deny that the ultimate object of the endeavour was good. The Divines were seeking—and that very earnestly—the promotion of Christian morality and virtue. They wished to reform the manners of the people, to make Christians of the large population of London, and to do as much as possible towards realizing the theory of a Christian state. But they mistook the means. So far as preaching the Gospel, promoting education, exercising social influence, and exhibiting a pious example went, they acted wisely and well. By such methods alone can irreligious men be converted. The City clergy, however, proceeded beyond this, and sought to bring under church discipline the whole body of their parishioners, whether those parishioners had voluntarily embraced their communion or not. Yet nothing can be more plain from Scripture, reason, and experience, than that such discipline can be effectually exercised only amongst people who have by their own free will entered into fellowship with a religious society. True Christian discipline can only touch persons who have submitted themselves to the laws, and acknowledged the sanctions of Christianity. When the help of the magistrate is solicited, and any kind of temporal punishment is esteemed a proper method of religious correction, the exercise of purely ecclesiastical government is virtually given up; the case is transferred from the spiritual kingdom of Christ to the empire of physical force. Of course everybody can feel the weight of the magistrate's sword, but everybody cannot and will not feel that there is power also, but of another and still more serious kind, in a pastor's crook. This difficulty was felt in the middle ages. In Archbishop Winchelsey's Constitutions at Merton, in the year 1305, mention is made of heretics who relinquished the Articles of the Faith, opposed ecclesiastical liberties, and refused to pay tithes and other dues. It was commanded that the people should be effectually persuaded to submit, and that those who did not voluntarily obey should be compelled by suspension, excommunication, and interdict. But heretics did not care for spiritual censures any more than they did for persuasion; and nothing further at that time could be brought to bear upon such offenders. The evil increased.[176] At length the civil power was called in to counteract it, and at last came the Act de Hæretico Comburendo.
Discipline.
What is effective in a voluntary Church is utterly ineffective in one not voluntary; and when the ministers of an establishment aim at extending ecclesiastical discipline over the ungodly by means of civil penalties, they raise at once the cry of despotism, tyranny, oppression, and the like. The threatened delinquents appeal to the State in defence of their personal rights, imperilled, as they say, by the inroads of clerical ambition and the menaces of spiritual pride. This sort of appeal in modern times is always successful; and the secular power, jealous of the ecclesiastical, puts a check on its activity. Consequently, discipline becomes an impossibility. English history proves, so far as a State Church is concerned, that there is no alternative but some sort of High Commission Court, with all the odium it inspires, and all the ruin which it ultimately brings—or the relaxation of discipline altogether. It should, however, be recollected that the London Elders, clerical and lay, in their zeal for discipline only strove to effect what many Episcopalians before and since have declared to be most desirable.[177] And, moreover, the ineffective activity, the fruitless discussions, the inoperative resolutions, and the complimentary votes of the Synod at Sion House, find a strict parallel in the proceedings of like assemblies in many places. Even Convocation cannot be excepted. Indeed that body, in comparison with its pretensions, is signally powerless. No one who maintains the importance and usefulness of the last-mentioned assembly can consistently ridicule or despise the efforts of their Genevan predecessors under the Commonwealth. It will be well if all Englishmen learn from these facts a lesson of moderation and charity; and while pointing out what they conceive to be flaws in systems, and foibles in characters, take care to honour all really good men, whatever their communion or opinions, and not forget to concede purity of motive in all cases where the opposite is not perfectly plain.
But if the system of Presbyterianism did not flourish in London, many of the Presbyterian ministers who laboured there, distinguished themselves alike by their ability, their learning, and their virtues; and, although failing to bring their fellow-citizens generally within their own ecclesiastical penfolds, they gathered a large number of wandering souls into the flock of the Good Shepherd. Edmund Calamy continued, throughout the period of the Commonwealth, his diligent, instructive, and eloquent ministry, in the parish church of St. Mary, Aldermanbury—that beautiful edifice—then recently repaired and adorned—with its ancient and goodly monuments in memory of famous citizens and their families, and with its adjoining churchyard and cloisters—all the buildings swept away so soon afterwards by the terrible fire.[178] Thither multitudes were accustomed to flock to hear the Gospel, and the narrow streets leading to the place of worship were blocked up service after service, with "three-score coaches"—the minimum number of vehicles which, according to the preacher's grandson, conveyed the wealthy Presbyterians to the old church door.[179] The well-known portrait of the Divine—exhibiting his large eyes, aquiline nose, and well-formed mouth, surrounded by a thin moustache and beard, and with his close-cut hair peeping from beneath his black skull cap—enables us to imagine him, standing in his pulpit, proclaiming with fervour the great doctrines and duties of Christianity; whilst, at the same time, as we are told—in contrast with the earlier habits of his brethren—he cautiously avoided any references to political affairs. Yet he did not prove false to his ecclesiastical principles, for he took a large share in composing an elaborate Vindication of them, published under that title,[180] and in preparing another book bearing the Latin name of "Jus Divinum Ministerii Evangelici et Anglicani."
Jenkyn.
William Jenkyn—already noticed as a sufferer in connection with the alleged plot which brought Love to the scaffold—had been deprived of his preferment at Christ Church, Newgate-street, because of his having condemned the execution of Charles I., and also for having refused to observe certain thanksgiving days appointed by Parliament. Feake, the notorious Fifth Monarchist, succeeded him in his living, and though Jenkyn was relieved from the sequestration, he was for a time either unable or unwilling to eject his successor. But the parishioners, anxious to enjoy the services of their former incumbent, established a lectureship, and appointed him to conduct it, with which office he combined a similar one at St. Anne's, Blackfriars. When Feake became obnoxious to the Government, and was displaced from Christ Church, Jenkyn recovered the benefice. The more regular features, the less masculine expression of countenance, and the amply-flowing locks of this eminent preacher, were familiar to a congregation perhaps as large as that which witnessed, from week to week, the personal appearance of his friend and neighbour, Edmund Calamy. With like zeal, and with like caution, Jenkyn "wholly applied himself to preach Christ, and him crucified;"—he delivered a long course of sermons upon the names given in Scripture to the Redeemer of mankind, and expounded the Epistle of Jude at great length in a series of Discourses which are well known to the admirers of Puritan theology. A convert to Puritanism in his youth, when a student at Cambridge, and suffering persecution on that account from his father, he became afterwards, we might almost say, an heir to Protestantism in its most unequivocal form, through his marriage with a granddaughter of John Rogers. Memories of that martyr who was imprisoned in the Compter and in Newgate, and was afterwards burnt in Smithfield, would surely often cross the mind of the Presbyterian minister, as he entered the gates of Christ Church, situated in the very midst of the spots hallowed by such associations.
Bates—Clarke.
The church of St. Dunstan's in the East, between Tower-street and Lower Thames-street—conspicuous before the fire of London, from its having a lofty steeple covered with lead, and containing a monument of Sir John Hawkins, one of Elizabeth's heroes[181]—was the scene of the ministrations of the renowned William Bates. Comely in person, with bold features, and richly curling locks; graceful with the action of a finished orator; of superior natural endowments and considerable literary culture; possessing a memory of extraordinary retentiveness; and a voice so sweetly musical that he won the name of the silver tongued; with large stores of theological knowledge; and also gifted with a Nestor-like eloquence, which fell in gentle flakes—this extraordinary pulpit orator was in high repute amongst the upper classes, and indeed amongst people of all grades. And what was infinitely better still, he was a man of rare piety and devotion. "Into what transports of admiration of the love of God," says John Howe, "have I seen him break forth when some things foreign, or not immediately relating to practical godliness, had taken up a good part of our time! How easy a step did he make of it from earth to heaven! Such as have been wont, in a more stated course to resort to him, can tell whether, when other occasions did fall in and claim their part in the discourses of that season, he did not usually send them away with somewhat that tended to better their spirits, and quicken them in their way heaven-ward. With how high flights of thought and affection was he wont to speak of the heavenly state! even like a man much more of kin to that other world than to this!"[182]
Samuel Clarke, the Puritan martyrologist—who diligently imitated the example of John Foxe—occupied the perpetual curacy of St. Bennett Fink. He came up from the country, he tells us—where he had been ministering first in a parish of remarkably intelligent Christians, "though the best of them went in russet coats, and followed husbandry;" and afterwards in another cure, from which, notwithstanding his usefulness, he was disposed to remove, in consequence of the conduct of some troublesome sectaries. Walking one day along Cheapside, he met his sister and an old friend, close to Mercers' Hall. As they were chatting together in that famous thoroughfare—with its projecting stories and signboards, its quaint gables, and its odd little shop-fronts—two of the parishioners of St. Bennett Fink—then destitute of a clergyman—accidentally passed by. "You want a minister," said Clarke's friend, "and if you can prevail with this gentleman you will be well fitted." He was persuaded to preach on the following Sunday. When the time for the appointment of a new pastor came, there were ten candidates. What followed had better be described in Clarke's own words, since they afford a curious example of parish elections in those days. "When they were met in the vestry the debate was, who should be put into nomination, and all agreed that Mr. Carter, Mr. Bellars, and myself should be set down in a paper, to which they were to make their marks. Mr. Bellars had but one or two hands, and for Mr. Carter there was Mr. Greene, a Parliament man, and some six more of the greatest of the parish, before any appeared for me; but then a godly man beginning, so many of the rest followed, that the choice went clearly on my side. All this while I knew nothing hereof, or what they were about, being not acquainted with any one in the parish, nor employing any friend to speak to them in my behalf. But that day I preached at Fish-street for Mr. J. Smart, and in the evening supping there, there came a committee-man from Bennett Fink parish, to acquaint me with my free election, and to entreat me to accept of the place—taking notice of the concurring providences of God, I durst not refuse the call."[183]
Vink—Baxter.
Peter Vink—whose autobiography, written in a style of elegant Latinity, bears witness to his domestic sympathies, his trust in God, his catholic spirit, his charity to the poor, and his unfeigned humility[184]—after holding the rectory of St. Michael's, Cornhill, became Curate of St. Catherine Creed, Leadenhall-street. Simeon Ash, described as a man of great sincerity, humility, benevolence, prudence, and patience, preaching the Gospel in season and out of season, so as not to please the ear but wound the heart, was Rector of St. Austin's, and died on the eve of St. Bartholomew, 1662.[185]
Though Presbyterian polity made but little way in England, voluntary associations, having a somewhat Presbyterian appearance, obtained in the county of Chester, in Cumberland, and in Westmoreland—and particularly in Worcestershire. Richard Baxter was the most influential minister in the last-mentioned neighbourhood; and, at the desire of his brethren, he drew up an agreement for so much of church order and discipline as might meet the views of Episcopalians, Presbyterians, and Independents. Of course it was impossible to blend the three elements without producing a tertium quid different from each, and such as could scarcely satisfy the thorough adherents of any one of these systems. But a few large-hearted men might be found, who, in the matter of church government could conscientiously make some compromise for the sake of union; and Baxter has given their names and described their proceedings. They held monthly meetings at certain market towns for conference respecting discipline. At Kidderminster and Evesham these meetings were regularly carried on. At the latter place, three Justices of the Peace, three or four Ministers, three or four Deacons, and twenty of "the ancient and godly men of the congregation," "pretending to no office as lay elders," met together to establish this new form of ecclesiastical economy. They sought to bring scandalous offenders to a right mind, reproving them if obdurate, encouraging them if penitent. The day after the parochial meeting had been held, a conference of the whole association took place, when incorrigible individuals were brought before the assembled clergy and received fresh admonition. We are told that no less than three successive days were spent in fervent intercession with God on behalf of hardened offenders; and if all proved in vain, they were at last solemnly cut off from church communion.
An attempt was made to promote efficient preaching by means of funds collected at what was called "the yearly feast of the Londoners of the county." A lecture was instituted, to be conducted by four ministers, each taking his turn once a month in places where such services were most needful. To avoid giving offence to any one, these itinerant preachers were appointed to visit the congregations of abler men; and they were strictly cautioned wherever they went, to say nothing which might diminish the influence of the humblest pastor, and steal away the hearts of the meanest of the people.
Baxter at Kidderminster.
Baxter's scheme did not touch any ecclesiastical point beyond that of discipline. He, doubtless, was himself prepared to go much further, and to contrive a comprehensive policy which should embrace elements belonging to the three denominations of Christians mentioned in his Agreement. Though commonly called a Presbyterian, he did not object to some things characteristic of Episcopacy, and to others peculiar to Congregationalism. Such a Presbyterian as Baxter, with such an Episcopalian as Ussher, and such an Independent as Howe, might possibly have framed a plan of ecclesiastical government, embracing Congregational election, Episcopal presidency, and Presbyterian union, within certain local limits—so as to constitute a number of federal groups, without any subordination of Courts, or any development of a Hierarchy, or any Congregational isolation. But for all this the Worcestershire clergy were not prepared. Baxter did not attempt what was Utopian, but only what was practicable. So far as he went, he seems to have succeeded, and if the experiment had been longer tried, it might have issued in something less imperfect.[186]
But whatever opinions are held on such vexed questions, there will be but one, respecting the disinterestedness and zeal of this great Divine. We learn from one of his unpublished letters, that he declined several good livings—one of them being valued at £500 a year—simply that he might remain in the parish with which his name will evermore be identified, and where his annual income did not exceed the sum of £90. He remitted tithes where people could not pay them; and when he felt it his duty to recover them by law, rather than "tolerate the sacrilege and fraud of covetous men," he gave both his own "part and the damages" to the poor. The history of his parish labours is a beautiful episode in church history. Preaching was his forte. His practical works contain the substance of many of his discourses. His treatises on "Crucifying the World," "Saving Faith," "Sound Conversion," "Peace of Conscience," together with his "Call to the Unconverted," were all composed at Kidderminster; and they abound in specimens of forcible reasoning and eloquent appeal. Evangelical and practical, instructive and awakening, convincing and pungent—now grappling with the understanding, and then aiming at the heart—he must sometimes have both convinced and confounded his hearers by his fidelity and acuteness, and then have melted them down completely by his extraordinary fervour. Working out his logic, not in frost but fire, he flung from his lips burning words, which made men start and weep. He had a clear articulate tone of enunciating truth, such as is possessed only by healthy souls, and is utterly different from the indistinct mutterings of those who, by mimicry, have caught up a few religious commonplaces. Nobody can mistake the one for the other; and Baxter's congregation in the old church of St. Mary must have felt that a God-taught man stood before them, as they crowded within those walls to hang upon his lips.
Baxter at Kidderminster.
Before the wars, he preached twice on Sunday, but afterwards he preached only once; conducting however a Thursday service, and other occasional services of worship in the week. On Thursday evening his parishioners were wont to come to his house, where one of them recapitulated the last discourse; and all were encouraged to ask religious questions. The "exercise" ended with prayer, in which the people sometimes engaged. On Saturday evening he held a meeting to improve the "opportunities" of the former Sabbath, and to prepare for the next day. Days of humiliation frequently occurred. Twice a week he and his assistant took fourteen families between them for private catechising and conference. He spent an hour with each household, no other persons being present; and thus he occupied the afternoons of Monday and Tuesday—his assistant spending the morning of these days in the same employment. His correspondence shews what efforts he privately employed to recover men from a course of sin.
Long epistles of reproof, remonstrance, and appeal still exist, and we well remember once lighting on a large and closely-written letter among the Baxter MSS., dated "this Saturday night, at eleven o'clock, with an aching head and heart, and weeping eyes." We venture to supply an extract from a letter in that collection, addressed to his parishioners:—"The remembrance of the years of mercy which God vouchsafed me among you is pleasant to me; yea, it is the pleasantest part of all my life in the review. I do with pleasure think of Dudley, where I first preached occasionally, because of the great congregation of a willing, poor people that used there to crowd for instruction; and I do with pleasure remember the liberty which I had at Bridgenorth, by means of the great privileges of the place in times of prelatical violence. I do with much thankfulness remember the safety, quietness, and mercies of many sorts which I and some of you enjoyed at Coventry, while the nation round about was in war, and the merciful preservations which we had in those unpleasing times. But the thought of my comforts among you is sweeter to me than all, because my successes were nowhere so great. It comforteth me to think from what a state of riotous profaneness and ignorance your Town is changed, and how commonly now the fear of God prevaileth, and how few, if any, there be now that oppose it; and that you can reproach the prayerless and contemners of godliness with the charge of singularity, as such were wont to do the godly. It comforteth me to remember how many upright souls are already departed in peace, and safely arrived at the desired rest, having fought a good fight and finished their course, and now enjoy the crown of righteousness. It comforteth me to remember how willingly you received the crown of righteousness. It comforteth me to remember how willingly you received the word of truth, how diligently the ablest of you were my helpers, how peaceably you all lived, without any schism, or any separated meeting, or any erroneous sect—unless two or three infidels and three or four drunkards might be called sectaries; and how all the attempts of Anabaptists and Quakers, &c., never, to my knowledge, prevailed to the perverting of any among you, though we gave them leave publicly to dispute for their cause. It rejoiceth me to think how, by your concord, and freedom from heresy and schism, living in love and unity, your example confuteth those that would now persuade the ignorant that there was nothing but schism and confusion in those times, and how much your leading example did to further piety and agreement in the towns and country round about, especially your common submission to catechising and personal conference and instruction, when almost all the town came willingly to my house, and the parish received Mr. Sergeant to theirs; and that in all things you were specially exemplary in humility, and none of you ever evaded the ministry, or went beyond the duties of your place; as also how willingly many hundreds of you submitted to Church discipline, and in what comfortable order we did live. But it yet more comforteth me to remember what society I there had with humble, loving, peaceable, painful, faithful ministers of Christ; how lovingly and comfortably we met and conversed together; how readily, through the country, they consented first to the association and concord for the exercise of so much discipline as the Episcopal, Presbyterian, or Independents were agreed in; and afterwards all to join in personal conference with, and catechising or instructing of, all their people that consented. How free those ministers were from all heresy, schism, contention, and difference with one another, never engaging themselves to any faction or dividing party, but holding communion with all true Christians on the terms of primitive simplicity, purity, and love! And it comforteth me to hear of the patience and fidelity of those of them that still survive, and also of your own constancy, and that piety among you doth rather increase than decay."
Baxter at Kidderminster.
Before dismissing Richard Baxter, there are three things respecting him which may be properly noticed here: the first, as an example of the popularity of his preaching; the second, as an instance of his independence and honesty in relation to Cromwell; and the third, as indicative of his charity and wisdom in promoting the interests of Christian union.
When Baxter preached that alarming and heart-stirring discourse at St. Lawrence Jewry which is entitled "Making light of Christ," the crowd was so great, that Lord Broghill, and the Earl of Suffolk, who brought the preacher to church in his coach, were "fain to go home again, because they could not come within hearing," and the crowd shewed so little respect to persons, that the old Earl of Warwick had to sit in the lobby; and Baxter adds—"Mr. Vines (the incumbent) himself, was fain to get into the pulpit and sit behind me, and I stood between his legs." "The Sermon on Judgment," published in "Baxter's Works"—another characteristic specimen of his mode of exposition and appeal—was delivered at the request of Sir Christopher Pack, Lord Mayor of London, in the old Gothic cathedral of St. Paul;[187] and the preacher tells us he delivered it to the "greatest auditory he ever saw." We find him also in the pulpit of Westminster Abbey, addressing immense congregations.
Baxter once, and only once, preached before Cromwell, when he chose for his subject the divisions and distractions of Christendom. He shewed how mischievous a thing it was for politicians to encourage divisions for their own ends, and to fish in troubled waters, thus keeping the Church in a state of weakness, and pointed out, at the end of his discourse, the necessity and the means of union. The preacher heard that his plain speaking had displeased his audience; yet, to use his own expression, "they put up with it." But Cromwell sent for Baxter, and began a long and tedious speech respecting God's Providence in the change of governments, and how He had owned that change already, and what great things had been achieved in consequence of it both at home and abroad. Baxter, wearied out of all patience, at length observed, that he took our ancient monarchy to be a great blessing, and craved pardon, as he asked his Highness in what way England had forfeited that blessing. Awakened into passion by this home thrust, Cromwell replied, that it was no forfeiture at all, but a "Divine dispensation;" and then he "let fly" at the Parliament, especially at four or five members who were Baxter's particular friends. A few days afterwards, the Protector addressed to the impatient preacher another slow and tedious speech upon liberty of conscience; and the preacher returned to the Protector a paper containing his own views upon the same subject. Baxter's paper would be to Cromwell as tiresome as Cromwell's talk could be to Baxter. Yet the whole of this remarkable intercourse between two remarkable men shewed the courage of the one, and the magnanimity of the other, and the perfect sincerity of both.
Baxter's Popularity.
Baxter, at a later period, preached in Westminster Abbey, before the House of Commons, a sermon containing the following passage, which is as worthy of attention at the present day as when the impassioned Divine delivered it under the arched roof of that great national temple:—
"Men that differ about Bishops, ceremonies, and forms of prayer, may be all true Christians, and dear to one another and to Christ, if they be practically agreed in the life of godliness, and join in a holy, heavenly conversation. But if you agree in all your opinions and formalities, and yet were never sanctified by the truth, you do but agree to delude your souls, and neither of you will be saved for all your agreement."[188]
Wilson—Hall.
Another striking example of devotedness amongst the Presbyterian Clergy of the Commonwealth might be found at Maidstone. Thomas Wilson, the Vicar, was a stricter man, and of severer habits than Richard Baxter. He rose at two or three o'clock on Sunday mornings, called his family together at seven, and read the Scriptures and sang psalms till between eight and nine, "that all might be ready to attend public ordinances." Then he began the service at the parish church by "singing two staves of a psalm," and praying for a blessing, and afterwards he expounded the Scriptures for one hour, according to the "hour-glass in his desk." The same space of time was occupied in preaching. Having spent most of the interval between one service and another in singing hymns and in similar devotional exercises, he reappeared in his pulpit in the afternoon, and did as he had done in the morning, only that he expounded the New Testament instead of the Old. In the evening he called his neighbours together, and asked questions respecting the sermons they had heard, and, after a recapitulation of them, with additional singing, he concluded with prayer. We should have supposed that the religious services of the day were now concluded; but instead of that being the case we are informed that the minister went to his patron's house to supper, where there would be a hundred or more persons assembled, including the principal magistrates of the town, to join with their excellent Vicar "in the conclusion of the day"—when more remarks, questions, and prayers, were added to those already so abundantly offered. Not less than nine or ten hours were thus spent in acts of worship, so that the Sabbath could not be a season of rest; still, at least to Thomas Wilson, it was a day of light and gladness. Every Monday and Tuesday he held theological conferences; every Thursday he preached a market-lecture; and every Friday he expounded the Scriptures at a private meeting. His biographer bears admiring testimony to the change which he wrought by these unremitting labours in the town of Maidstone, and informs us that one of the Judges on the circuit held up the place as a choice and unparalleled example. Those who on Sunday had been wont to frequent the public-house, and to play at cudgell, football, or cricket, and had mocked the godly burgesses and their wives on the way to church,—now attended sermon themselves, and had actually come to believe that it was a sin even to draw water, or to walk in the fields, or to pluck a rose on the Lord's Day.[189]
Pages might be filled with illustrations of like earnestness, with a similar lack of wisdom; but room remains for only one more example of the Presbyterian parish Minister of the Commonwealth. Thomas Hall spent "three apprenticeships at King's Norton—in addition to a lustre of years (rather more than four), at Mosely." His preface to "The Font Guarded," a publication belonging to the year 1651, compliments his parishioners after the following fashion:—"You have been a people very loving and free to the ministry. Many people deal by their ministers as carriers do by their horses, laying great burdens on them, and then hang bells about their necks; but ye have not so learned Christ. Your gratitude hath not been verbal but real, with your purse, as well as with your persons, you have promoted the Gospel for many years together in your town, to the refreshing of many hungry souls about you, in which number I acknowledge myself to have been one."
This individual affords an example of a common trouble in those days, occasioned by the preaching of sectaries who, in the estimation of the Presbyterian pastor, had received no legitimate call to the office which they exercised. He complained, that such persons interrupted him in the midst of his discourses, and rudely challenged him to a public dispute. Yet he could congratulate his parishioners upon the unity of spirit which they enjoyed, although they formed a large body, and were many of them "knowing people." To his great joy, his flock conformed not to the canons of the Bishops but to the canon of Scripture; and there were but few families which had not submitted to examination before approaching the sacrament.
Gataker.
Many clergymen in those days had no fixed opinions on the question of church government, not believing that any particular ecclesiastical system is taught in the New Testament. Any one who held Bishops to be of Divine appointment, or who maintained the Divine right of Congregationalism, were of course chargeable with a dereliction of principle if they adopted the Presbyterian polity; but the case was far otherwise with men who did not believe that there is Divine authority for one kind of church order more than another. Such persons, too, as would have preferred, or would have been satisfied with moderate Episcopacy, and yet believed that Bishops and Presbyters were originally identical, might with good faith submit to the Presbyterianism of the Church of England. Of this class was Thomas Gataker the younger, a man eminently learned in an age of abundant erudition[190]—the friend and correspondent of Archbishop Ussher, and the author of Latin treatises filled with rare and curious knowledge. First Lecturer at Lincoln's Inn, and then Rector of Rotherhithe, he manifested throughout the political and ecclesiastical changes of the times a singular pecuniary disinterestedness; and has, in a very peculiar book, written for his own vindication, given a full account of his preferments—thus throwing much light upon the incomes and upon the cares of Commonwealth clergymen.[191] At Rotherhithe he came to a dwelling-house much mangled and defaced by the late Incumbent's widow, through spite and spleen against some of the parishioners with whom her husband had been in prolonged contention. The wharf by the river opposite to the parsonage-house was ready to drop into ruins, for the repair of which—although two or three persons contributed something—the main expense came out of Gataker's own purse. The fabric of the church, which was supported with "chalky pillars," of such a bulk as filled up no small part of the edifice, being found faulty, and "threatening a fail if not a fall, unless speedily prevented;"—the minister had to contribute largely to remove these incumbrances, and to place strong timber columns in their place. A ship catching fire on the Thames, close by the Rectory, endangered the thatched roof, which the Rector had to exchange for tiles. He also relates in his copious narrative how, in the earlier period of his incumbency, he let out the whole tithe and glebe for one hundred pounds a year, subject to several deductions. At length ten pounds a quarter more was promised, to be assessed upon the wealthier sort of inhabitants—the poorer people being spared—and to be gathered by the churchwardens for the time being, and by them quarterly paid. "Which yet," he says—for we had better leave him to tell the rest of his story in his own way—"the most part came short more or less every quarter, as by my receipts may appear. And I may truly and boldly avow it, that during all the time of mine abode in this place—what in maintenance of my family; in affording a competency to an able assistant for me in the work of the ministry, and to a young scholar to write out divers things for me; in enlarging my house, which was somewhat scanty, for the more convenient lodging of mine assistant and scribe, and a student, one or two, (such of our own country as had left the University, and were fitting themselves for the ministry)—or strangers that from foreign parts came over to learn our language and observe our method of teaching—and gaining a room of more capacity for the bestowing of my library; in reparation of my house and of the wharf before it; in furnishing myself with books; in relief to the poor (wherein I shall spare to speak what I added voluntarily in a constant course unto that I was assessed); in these and the like put together, with what went to the higher powers—I spent, one year with another, all that ever I received in right of my rectory, as by proof sufficient I could make to appear."[192]
Gauden.
Dr. John Gauden—famous as the reputed author of "Icon Basilike"—is also well known as a Royalist and an Episcopalian. He has been made notorious by the charge brought against him of ambition and covetousness; for having eagerly sought preferment; for being dissatisfied with his first bishopric after the Restoration; and for saying "Exeter had a high rack but a low manger."[193] Yet Gauden, at first, was as much a Puritan as a Royalist; he preached "against pictures, images, and other superstitions of Popery," in a sermon before the Long Parliament, for which he was presented with a silver tankard, and in the following year with the Deanery of Bocking. Nominated a member of the Westminster Assembly, he was superseded by the Parliament who chose Thomas Goodwin in preference to him. Gauden is said to have taken the Covenant, a report which he denied; but his name is found in the Presbyterian classis of Hinckford, in Essex. His friendly feeling towards the Puritan party appears from his conduct at the Savoy Conference, after the Restoration. "He was our most constant helper," says Baxter, "and how bitter soever his pen might be, he was the only moderator of all the bishops, except our Bishop Reignolds;" he had "a calm, fluent, rhetorical tongue, and if all had been of his mind, we had been reconciled."[194] Disposed to conciliation, though a known Royalist, and conforming in some degree to Presbyterianism, Gauden was allowed, like others of that class, to continue his public ministrations, and retain his preferment. In 1658 he officiated publicly at the funeral of Robert Rich—heir to the earldom of Warwick, and husband of Cromwell's daughter Frances.[195]
Fuller.
Gauden was, at least virtually, a Presbyterian conformist. Dr. Thomas Fuller became one avowedly; openly declaring his preference for Episcopacy, he at the same time, with equal openness, submitted to Presbyterian arrangements. "Not to dissemble," he says, "in the sight of God and man, I do ingenuously protest that I affect the Episcopal government (as it was constituted in itself, abating some corruptions which time hath contracted) best of any other, as conceiving it most consonant to the word of God, and practice of the primitive Church." "But I know that religion and learning hath flourished under the Presbyterian government in France, Germany, the Low Countries. I know many worthy champions of the truth, bred and brought up under the same. I know the most learned and moderate English Divines (though Episcopal in their callings and judgments) have allowed the Reformed Churches under the discipline, for sound and perfect in all essentials necessary to salvation. If therefore denied my first desire, to live under that Church government I best affected, I will contentedly conform to the Presbyterian government, and endeavour to deport myself quietly and comfortably under the same." Fuller's fortunes were somewhat varied. For a little while—in the year 1647—he preached at St. Clement's, Eastcheap, and at St. Bride's, Fleet Street. The next year he was silenced. "It hath been," said he—addressing Sir John Danvers, in whose house he abode awhile—"the pleasure of the present authority, to whose commands I humbly submit, to make me mute, forbidding me, till further order, the exercise of my public preaching; wherefore I am fain to employ my fingers in writing, to make the best signs I can, thereby to express, as my desire to the general good, so my particular gratitude to your honour."[196] About the year 1649 he received by presentation from the Earl of Carlisle the perpetual curacy of Waltham Abbey, "wherein as many pleasant hills and prospects are as any place in England doth afford." Under the shadow of the Norman church, which Fuller describes as "rather large than neat, firm than fair;" he wrote incomparable books, and found within its walls on Sundays the "best commendation of a church," even "a great and attentive congregation." Historical associations were connected with the parish, most grateful to this Incumbent. It was there one night, at Mr. Cressy's home, that Cranmer had supped with Henry the Eighth, on his way home from a royal progress, and had suggested to the monarch—wearied with the dilatoriness of the Papal Court—a more summary method of getting rid of Queen Catherine. It was there, too, that John Foxe had compiled his "Acts and Monuments." And it was there, also, that Bishop Hall had, a few years before, "climbed the pulpit week by week," to repeat, memoriter, every word he had written of his sermons;—some of which included portions of his popular "Contemplations," which were first published during his ministry at Waltham. Whilst in that parish, Fuller completed his "Pisgah Sight," and his "Abel Redivivus;" and in the same place there occurred the following well-known incident:—Having to appear before the Triers, he said to John Howe, "You may observe, sir, that I am a somewhat corpulent man, and I am to go through a very strait passage; I beg you would be so good as to give me a shove, and help me through." When asked by the Commissioners "whether he had ever had any experience of a work of grace on his heart," Fuller gave the memorable reply—"that he could appeal to the Searcher of hearts, that he made a conscience of his very thoughts."[197] In the year 1652 he was restored to the Eastcheap Lectureship, which he held in connexion with the Waltham curacy. In the year 1658 he obtained the rectory of Crawford, and died in 1661.
Abraham Colfe.
A characteristic specimen of the quiet parish Presbyter (not Priest) who was more given to works of mercy than to controversial argument, yet who did all his good deeds after a quaint Puritan pattern, is to be seen in what is related of the life of Abraham Colfe, Vicar of Lewisham. He looked after the education of boys; and founded a parish school, with exhibitions for the universities—and a room for a library—and endowments for the purchase of Bibles and other books. He built almshouses for godly people, who could repeat the Creed and the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments. He gave away bread to the poor, and money for the marriage of one or two maidservants every year. He paid the clerk for taking care of the boys' Bibles, and for keeping in order the church clock, and he also instituted a sermon for the fifth of November. This record of his benefactions will indicate what sort of man was Abraham Colfe; and further glimpses of his character—not a peculiar one in those days—are caught in his Will, from which we may gather what were his likes and dislikes: he hated gamesters, and frequenters of alehouses, and all who were given to "wanton dalliances," or who lavished unnecessary expenses in following "vain, gaudy fashions of apparel;" he disapproved of all who wore "long, curled, or ruffin-like hair"—strangely associating such persons with the profane and heretical. Moreover, in reading Latin or Greek authors, this same Kentish Incumbent approved of pointing out the errors and vices which there appeared—and such as drew the young to Popish superstition, Epicurean licentiousness, or downright Atheism, instead of drawing them to godliness and a holy life. Nor would he let boys wear "long, curled, frizzled or powdered hair"—but enjoined upon them the importance of cutting it short, and of wearing it in such a manner as that their foreheads should be seen, "and no part of it be allowed to grow longer than one inch below the lowest tips of their ears."[198]
Some of the clergy in those times were very flexible. The district of Craven, in Yorkshire, is very remarkable for the examples of this description which it afforded. As in the sixteenth century—when the incumbents of that beautiful part of England gently bowed to all ecclesiastical changes, from the enactment of the Six Articles to the Act of Uniformity of Queen Elizabeth—so was it with their successors in the seventeenth century. Not a name is contributed from that quarter to the list of either Walker or Calamy. Surplice or Genevan cloak, Liturgy or Directory, Episcopacy or Presbyterianism, a King or a Commonwealth—all came alike to the accommodating Rectors and Vicars of that charming locality.[199] Others of a similar temper were found amidst less beautiful scenery.
