Ecclesiastical History of England, Volume 2—The Church of the Commonwealth

by John Stoughton

CHAPTER XII.

Cromwell's establishment excluded Prelacy, but it did not altogether exclude Prelatists. It was possible for them to hold parish livings. The use of the Prayer Book, the performance of Episcopal rites, and the exercise of diocesan superintendence were disallowed. Still, those who approved of such things could preach if the Triers permitted. Not a few must have accepted this abridged freedom, otherwise we could not account for the large proportion of clerical conformists at the period of the Restoration. Numbers had no very decided opinions in matters relating to Church government and forms of worship; but some persons of fixed views—on the principle of not doing what they felt to be unscriptural, only omitting what under other circumstances they would have gladly performed—were anxious still to labour as parish pastors for the good of souls. The Episcopal Clergy who remained in the Establishment, without in any way professing Presbyterianism, may be divided into two classes.

Bull.

I. Those who, notwithstanding the law against it, continued to use more or less of the Book of Common Prayer. George Bull, afterwards Bishop of St. David's, was a distinguished individual of this class. Having received orders as deacon and priest the same day from the hands of Dr. Skinner—the ejected Bishop of Oxford, who after his ejectment continued to perform the rite of ordination—this young man, then only twenty-one, settled at St. George's, near Bristol, upon an income of £30 a year. By his preaching, his prudence, and his charities, he is said to have won the favour of Quakers, and "other wild sectaries," and even to have reclaimed some from their "pernicious errors." Stories are told of his notes being blown out of the Bible over the Church, amidst the laughter of the congregation; and of his adroitly turning the circumstance to account by proceeding with his sermon extempore. Another anecdote is related of his being interrupted by a Quaker, with whom he expostulated so calmly, that the people lost all patience, and would have fallen violently on the poor delinquent, had not the preacher come down from the pulpit to save him from their assaults. He constantly repeated the common prayers without referring to the book; thereby, it is said, exciting admiration even in some who counted the prohibited volume a beggarly element, and a carnal performance. Nelson, his biographer, speaks of his diligence in visiting his flock, in instructing the ignorant, in comforting the afflicted, and in correcting the erring. He seems even to have kept up some sort of parish discipline;—summoning to a conference those who absented themselves from communion and worship, and engaging in controversy with those who seduced any of his parishioners. Bull aimed at doing in the parish of St. George's, after the Episcopalian type, what Baxter did at Kidderminster, after the "Presbyterian way," and, on the whole, he appears to have been successful.[298]

John Hacket, afterwards Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, was allowed for a time to read the Common Prayer at Cheam, to the living of which he had been presented through the interest of the Lord Keeper Williams. At length the Surrey Committee required him to forbear using the forbidden formulary, "when he found himself under the necessity of omitting such parts as were most offensive to the Government."[299] After this limited measure of interference, he continued to hold his living.

Barksdale—Gunning.

Mr. Barksdale, an Episcopalian, held the living of Sudeley Manor, in Gloucestershire—the burial place of Catherine Parr. His employment of the Liturgy, and his method of proceeding with reference to the Lord's Supper, appear in a tract of the period, which, because it affords an example of the public discussions then common, deserves the reader's notice. Mr. Helme, who seems to have been a Fifth Monarchy Baptist, held the neighbouring vicarage of Winchcomb, and between these neighbours a controversy arose. Lists for the combatants were prepared in Winchcomb church, and a large congregation assembled within the battlemented walls of that edifice to witness the ecclesiastical tournament. The Episcopalian begged the Baptist to allow him "to stand in his pue," that he "might be seen and heard the better, and be free from the crowd;" a request not granted, as the Baptist wanted "the pue for himself." He entered at the appointed time, attended "by a justice of the peace" and three other friends. His opponent had "a pue in opposito," which he had "caused to be erected." The incumbent of Winchcomb had gathered a church out of the parish, and the point mooted by his neighbour of Sudeley was, "Whether it be lawful to minister and receive the Holy Sacrament in congregations called mixed?" Barksdale maintained the affirmative; but, in the progress of debate, admitted the propriety of doing—without sanction of the rubric—what resembled the Presbyterian practice of "fencing the table." The congregation of his hearers, he confessed, was mixed, not so the company of his communicants. His practice was, after certain preparations, to repeat aloud, when the sacrament was to be administered, "all that are not prepared depart, you that are prepared stay." After some had departed, the rest he looked upon as prepared. The question of Episcopacy also came under discussion. Mr. Barksdale maintained, very fairly, that "the ministers of the Church of England and the good people adhering to them ought to hold their assemblies without disturbance"—and that "the new men should allow to others equal liberty with themselves, remembering that Englishmen were living under a free Commonwealth." From the tract it seems that some people threatened to proceed against Mr. Barksdale for using the Common Prayer, and for other offences.[300]

Peter Gunning, afterwards Bishop of Ely, read the Liturgy in the Chapel at Exeter House, and "asserted the cause of the Church of England with great pains and courage, when the Parliament was most predominant."[301] He was allowed "a contention for the truth" (1658) in two public disputations with Henry Denn, on infant baptism, before thousands of people, in the church of St. Clement Danes—and, with the assistance of Dr. Pearson, he had a conference with two Romanists, reported by them in a pamphlet entitled, "Schism Unmasked." Wood remarks that there was no considerable sect with which Gunning did not dispute; yet he met with no interference, beyond the Protector's rebuke, and an occasional disturbance whilst he was conducting liturgical worship.[302]

William Parsons, Rector of Birchanger, suffered under the Presbyterians, and was kept in jail nineteen weeks for his loyalty to Charles I., but afterwards he returned to his living, and usually read the Common Prayer during the Protectorate.[303] Notwithstanding his Episcopalianism, he was created Doctor of Laws at Oxford under Owen's Vice-Chancellorship.

II. The second-class of Episcopalians in the Establishment were those who held office without using the formularies of their Church.

Farindon.

Pearson was lecturer at St. Clement's, Eastcheap, and it was there that he delivered the discourses which formed the substance of his noble Text Book on the Creed. Farindon, less known, but worthy of being coupled with his famous contemporary, affords another instance of the same kind. Ejected from his Vicarage and from his divinity readership after the commencement of the civil wars, he, in the year 1647, became the Minister of St. Mary Magdalene, Milk Street. A second time he had to quit his preferment, and soon afterwards, he was a second time restored. The dates are uncertain, but Farindon is supposed by his biographer to have remained in his pastorate "from 1654 to 1658, the year of his death."[304] During his forced retirement, a clerical friend twice occupied his pulpit, and made an eloquent appeal to the congregation on his behalf, telling them that such persons had been seen in that church "as were able to create a temple wheresoever they went—men, each of whom, single and alone, made up a full congregation, nay a synod;" so that some persons had not unfitly named that place "the scholars' church."[305] Hammond and Sanderson were the Divines referred to, and the passage indicates the high estimation in which Farindon's preaching was held—and justly so. A collection at the doors for the ejected minister followed each of these discourses, and the whole of what was contributed amounted to more than four hundred pounds—a sum then double in value what it would be at the present time. Upon his second restoration, he delivered a sermon, which was admirable for its ability, eloquence, and temper. He chose for his text, "Brethren, I beseech you, be as I am; for I am as ye are; ye have not injured me at all."[306]

The following account from a contemporary autobiography is interesting in connexion with Farindon:—I had usually frequented St. Gregory's, Dr. Mossam's, Dr. Wild's, Dr. Gunning's, or some other congregations where the orthodox clergy preached and administered the sacraments; but the soldiers often disturbing those congregations, it was not so convenient for my father to appear there. Coming into Milk Street church one Sunday, I found very few in it, but Mr. Robinson helped me to a seat, and there I heard Mr. Farindon, that excellent scholar and preacher. It was his first day. Mr. Case had been there for some years, and the parishioners were now divided about a successor; some would have an Independent, others a Presbyterian, and there were several meetings and competitions, but no agreement, nor like to be; whereupon Mr. Robinson desired he might put one into the pulpit until they could agree; and said they should choose whether they should pay him or not. And so he got the pulpit and put Mr. Farindon into it, which he kept two or three years. I went home and told my father I had found a church where he might safely go, where was room enough, and where he might hear a most excellent orthodox preacher. My grandmother, Mrs. Moundeford, then dwelt in that parish; so the next Sunday my father and myself went thither, and Mr. Farindon preached again; my father's coach standing in the street near the church, gave occasion to some to look in, and in a short time the congregation so increased that it was very difficult to get a place.[307]

Farindon was an intimate friend of the memorable John Hales; and Aubrey, amidst his charming gossipings, enables us to picture the latter spending much of his time at Lady Salter's, at Eton, he having been a fellow of the College there. "He lodged, after his sequestration, at the next house, the Christopher Inn, where I saw him, a pretty little man, sanguine, of a cheerful countenance, very gentle and courteous. I was received by him with much humanity. He was in a kind of violet-coloured cloth gown, with buttons and loops, (he wore not a black gown), and was reading Thomas à Kempis; it was within a year before he deceased. He loved canary, but moderately, to refresh his spirits. He had a bountiful mind."[308]

Hardy.

Dr. Nathaniel Hardy—author of a somewhat famous Exposition of the first epistle of John, and an Episcopalian of the Puritan school—continued to minister in St. Dionysius Backchurch, in Fenchurch Street, one of the buildings destroyed by the Fire of London. He preached a funeral sermon upon the death of Charles I., and annually commemorated "the royal martyrdom." At his "loyal lecture," collections were made on behalf of the deprived clergy;[309] yet, notwithstanding his royalist sentiments, the bold preacher remained unmolested. Some of the episcopal clergy became chaplains, of which we have an interesting example in the life of Dr. Richard Sherlock, uncle of Dr. Wilson, the celebrated Bishop of Sodor and Man. Driven by the troubles of the time to seek shelter in Oxford, he afterwards found refuge in the family of Sir Robert Bradrosse, of Borwick, in Lancashire. There, as we learn from a memoir of him by his eminent kinsman, he proved his ministerial fidelity by rebuking the evils which he witnessed amongst the Royalists, and by expostulating with his patron. "He desired him to consider what injury he did to the distressed Church, for which he always expressed so commendable a zeal. He intimated to him that this was both the cause of her sufferings, and that which made her the scorn of her enemies, that her friends did her more dishonour than they could do her hurt; so that she may truly say, in the words of Zechariah, 'These are the wounds which I received in the house of my friends.'"[310]

There remained a number of Episcopalians who did not conform in any way to the new order of things. They were deprived of their preferments, and it will be our endeavour now to trace their fortunes. We begin with the deprived prelates.

Godfrey Goodman, Bishop of Gloucester, died in the year 1655, after having run a remarkable career. It is said that an entry in a volume now in the Chapter Library at Gloucester corroborates the suspicion of his early leaning to Romanism.[311] As early as the year 1626 he found himself in trouble on account of a sermon he had preached, in which he had asserted the doctrine of the real presence. Perhaps the consciousness of his tendencies led him to wish to have a coadjutor in his episcopal office, and then eventually to resign his bishopric;—a wish which is made apparent in a letter written to him by Archbishop Laud, in the year 1634.[312] When the canons were submitted to the Convocation of 1640, he at first refused to sign them;[313] for which, as Fuller states, he was sent to the Gatehouse, where "he got by his restraint what he never could have gained by his liberty, namely, of one reputed popish, to become for a short time popular, as the only confessor suffering for not subscribing the canons."[314] Nalson says nothing respecting his imprisonment, but only mentions that Goodman refused a second and a third time, and then at last put his hand to the book, declining to say that he did so ex animo. Laud told him that his refusal proved him to be a Papist, or a Socinian, or a sectary. This conclusion he himself denied, but Nalson adds, it "proved true, for he died a Papist."[315]

Ussher.

A contrast to Goodman is found in Ussher. Upon his leaving Oxford, where last we met him, and his proceeding to visit Lady Stradling, at her Castle of St. Donate's, in Glamorganshire, there occurred to this eminent Divine an odd adventure, which indicates what must have been the state of the country and the circumstances of travelling at that period. The Welsh then being in a state of rebellion against English governors—as the ejected Primate of Ireland, with his daughter, were quietly riding along the road, they fell into the hands of some straggling insurgents, who dragged them from their horses, and stripped them of their baggage. Books and MSS. were wantonly strewed about the highway; but the respect in which the Prelate was held appears when we learn, that the neighbours from time to time brought back to him his scattered treasures, so that on their being put together he "found not many wanting."[316] Coming to London he filled the office of preacher at Lincoln's Inn, employing his leisure from public duty upon that wonderful monument of learning, his "Annals of the Old Testament,"—in which he unfolded a system of chronology, since widely adopted in the reformed churches. Cromwell sent for Ussher, and conversed with him upon the promotion of the Protestant religion at home and abroad; at the same time offering him a lease of certain lands pertaining to the see of Armagh. When failure of sight and other infirmities had unfitted the Bishop for preaching any longer, he resigned his office at Lincoln's Inn, and sought in seclusion the consolations of that Gospel which he had faithfully proclaimed. When Cromwell published his ordinance against the Episcopalian clergy, they requested Ussher to employ his influence to mitigate the severity of his Highness's anger.[317] He succeeded at first in obtaining from the Protector a promise that the Episcopalians should be unmolested, if they did but quietly submit to the government of the Commonwealth, a promise which was as much as could be fairly expected; but, during a second interview, Cromwell confessed that his Council had advised him not to grant any indulgence to persons so implacably disaffected as the Episcopalians were, since it might prove very dangerous to the State. Anything which passed between two such men is interesting to posterity; and therefore a further story is preserved, to the effect, that Cromwell—suffering at the time from a boil—remarked to his right reverend visitor, "If this core were once out, I should be soon well." "I doubt the core lies deeper," is the reported reply. "There is a core in the heart which must be taken out, or else it will not be well." "Ah," rejoined the Protector, "so there is indeed." Supposing the story to be true, the self-application of such reproof did no less credit to Cromwell, than its honest administration did to Ussher. Leaving the smoke and bustle of London for the breezy downs and rural scenery of Reigate, the aged scholar there pursued his studies so far as failing strength permitted him; and, there, with a calm mind, joining in prayer with the chaplain of the Countess of Peterborough, he at once ended his days and his sorrows. The Protector ordered a public funeral for the deceased Bishop, and contributed £200 towards the expenses—an order which, whatever might be the extra cost entailed by it upon his relatives, was intended as a mark of honour, and was so regarded by his friends and by the clergy of London. The latter followed the plumed hearse from Somerset House to Westminster Abbey, accompanied by a guard of soldiers and a vast concourse of people. Cromwell permitted the burial service of the Prayer Book to be used on the occasion, a circumstance which appears the more remarkable, when we recollect that it occurred just after the severest of all his measures against the Episcopal Church.[318]

Hall.

The pious Joseph Hall—the English Seneca—after the "hard measure" meted out to him by Parliament, went to live in the hamlet of Heigham, just outside one of the gates of the old city, of which he had been Lord Bishop. There, in a rented house—now the little Elizabethan inn bearing the sign of the Dolphin[319]—he spent the remnant of his days in seclusion and poverty; suffering from strangury and stone; but bearing both his privations and his disease with the patience and magnanimity of Christian faith. His will, after bequeathing his soul to God, directed his body to be interred without any funeral pomp—with this "monition," that he did not hold God's house a meet repository for the bodies of the greatest saints: but his executors, whilst "admiring the lowly mind of the departed," buried him in the chancel of the little church; where the people of the hamlet still behold every Sunday his mural monument in black marble, bearing the figure of a gilt skeleton, which holds in its hand a scroll inscribed with the admonitory words, "Debemus morti, nos, nostraque."

Morton, Bishop of Durham, a man of High Church views, had, in the height of the popular fury against Prelatists, been assailed, as he rode in his coach through the streets; and when some one remarked, "He is a good man," "No matter," the Polyphemus of the mob replied, "he is a Bishop." Eight hundred pounds a year was voted him by Parliament, which, however, as it is reported, was never paid; but he did receive the sum of one thousand pounds, with which he discharged his debts and purchased an annuity. He was turned out of his house in London just before the execution of Charles. Having lived awhile successively with old Royalist friends, including the Earl of Rutland, he travelled up one day to London, and was overtaken and joined on the road, in the friendly fashion of those times, by Sir Christopher Yelverton, who had some share in the humiliation of the Church. Ignorant of his travelling companion, the knight, as their horses ambled on side by side, asked the bishop who he was; the Bishop, having in this respect the advantage of the knight, replied, with a dash of brave Episcopal pride which rose above present humiliation, "I am that old man, the Bishop of Durham, notwithstanding all your votes." To the enquiry whither he went, he replied, "To London, to live a little while, and then die." The incident is worth relating, as a specimen of the kindly English feeling which in many an unknown case tempered party animosities. Sir Christopher entered into friendly discourse with the ejected Bishop, took him home to his seat in Northamptonshire, appointed him tutor to his son, and left his friendship as an heirloom to the pupil—who imbibed his tutor's love for Episcopacy, and in 1659 reverently closed the old man's eyes in his 95th year.[320]

Other Bishops.

Ralph Brownrigg, of Exeter—of whom, when made a Bishop, Fuller observes he was "defied by some who almost deified him before, in whose eyes he seemed the blacker for wearing white sleeves"—after losing his bishopric found shelter at Sonning, a pleasant little village on the banks of the Thames, not far from the town of Reading. There, in the hospitable mansion of Thomas Rich, he enjoyed respectful entertainment during the Protectorate; and about a year before his death received the appointment of preacher at the Temple. "The deserved opinion of his goodness," we are informed by Fuller, "had peaceable possession in the hearts of the Presbyterian party; and I observed at his funeral that the prime persons of all persuasions were present, whose judgments going several ways met all in a general grief for his decease. He was buried on the cost of both Temples, to his great but their greater honour."[321]

Thomas Winniffe,[322] who was a Bishop with Puritan predilections, and who was raised to the see of Lincoln at the beginning of the Church troubles—by way of conciliation, when it was too late—found little besides sorrow in the possession of his mitre. Driven from his house at Westminster he went to live at Lambourne, in Essex, "having formerly been the painful minister thereof;" and there he died in the year 1654, leaving a goodly reputation for piety and learning.

John Owen and Roger Manwaring, two Welsh bishops, the first of St. Asaph, the second of St. David's—like the rest of those just enumerated—died before the Restoration, Owen, in the year 1651, Manwaring, at Carmarthen, in 1653.[323]

The fortunes of the Bishops who survived the return of Charles the Second, and the re-establishment of Prelacy, demand a few notices. In the sequestered village of Langley, in the County of Bucks, King, Bishop of Chichester, spent some years at the seat of his brother-in-law, Sir Richard Hobart. Wren, "that bird of ill omen," driven from his nest at Ely, had to undergo some severe retaliation for past offences; and became so reduced in circumstances, that when his son took a degree at the University of Oxford in the year 1660, the father had not wherewith to pay the fees. Juxon, the amiable Metropolitan who attended Charles on the scaffold, retained the use of Fulham Palace up to the year 1647—"reserved, like Ulysses by the Cyclops, for the last morsel" and, after the Whitehall tragedy, he retired to his manor of Little Compton, in Gloucestershire, where he remained until the Restoration. Skinner, Bishop of Oxford, during the whole period of the Commonwealth enjoyed the Rectory of Launton, where he read prayers and conferred orders. Warner, Bishop of Rochester, a man of wealth—and, after compounding for his estates, possessing a handsome residue—largely helped his suffering brethren, at the expense of some self-denial, which led him to say—for he was a man of humour with a little self-complacency—"that he did eat the crag ends of the neck of mutton himself, that he might leave the poor the shoulder." Brian Duppa, an ecclesiastic of moderate opinions, and a graceful courtier, who succeeded Davenant at Salisbury, spent some time at Richmond in solitude and devotion; but he availed himself of opportunities to preserve and revive the Episcopal Church. From one of his letters we learn that in the year 1653 meetings were being held to consult "ne ecclesia aliquid detrementi caperet, especially in such a sad juncture of time, when the well-being of it could hardly fall into consideration, and the great care was, that though stripped of all her outward helps, yet there might be a being left her."[324] Piers, Bishop of Wells, whose Episcopal administration had irritated the Puritans, lived at Cuddesdon, upon a considerable estate of his own, which the party in power "had been so merciful as to leave him."

Bramhall.

There was at that time another Prelate who by his ability, devotion, and attainments, adorned the Irish bench. Bramhall, Bishop of Londonderry, fled to the Continent after the ruin of the Royal cause, and then having returned to Ireland, and undergone great dangers and difficulties, he fled again and had a narrow escape. "This escape of his is accounted very wonderful, for 'the little bark he was in was closely hunted by two of the Parliament frigates, many of which were on that coast; and when they were come so near that all hopes of being saved were taken away, ... on a sudden the wind slackened into a perfect calm, and, as it were, flew into the sails of the little vessel, and carried her away in view.'" "On his arrival in foreign parts, Providence supplied him with a considerable sum of money, of which he greatly stood in need; for having had seven hundred pounds long due to him, for salmon caught in the river Bann, and sent abroad, which debt he looked upon as lost, he was now so fortunate as to recover it; which proved a seasonable relief both to him and to many Royalists that partook of his generosity. During this second time of his being abroad, 'he had many disputes about religion with the learned of all nations, sometimes occasionally, and at other times by appointment and formal challenge;' and wrote several things in defence of the Church of England. He likewise purposed to draw a parallel between the liturgy of the Church of England and the public forms of the Protestant Churches; and 'for that end designed a journey into Spain;' 'but he met with an unexpected diversion in his first day's journey into that kingdom;' 'for he no sooner came into the house where he intended to refresh himself but he was known and called by his name by the hostess. And his lordship admiring at his being discovered, she soon revealed the secret, and shewed him his own picture, and assured him there were several of them upon the road; that, being known by them, he might be seized and carried to the Inquisition, and that her husband, among others, had power to that purpose, which he would certainly make use of if he found him. The Bishop saw evidently he was a condemned man, being already hanged in effigie, and therefore made use of the advertisement, and escaped out of the power of that Court.'"[325] As an example of the reverses suffered in those days, and to indicate the strange employments to which the highest dignitaries might have to betake themselves, it may be mentioned, that Bramhall acted as prize-master to Charles at the port of Flushing, where, in person, he sold captured freights, and had often to complain of the indignities to which he and his fellow Royalists were exposed.

Bramhall.

Although not compiling memoirs of these sufferers, yet to interest the reader, as well as illustrate the circumstances and sentiments of Episcopalians during the Commonwealth, we venture to notice certain passages in Bramhall's writings, which were composed by him during the period of his exile. In his "Just Vindication of the Church of England," printed at London (1654), the author (who wrote in Holland) complains of the Episcopalians having to suffer so much for their principles—"being chased as vagabonds into the merciless world to beg relief of strangers." Then, comparing the conduct of Papists abroad and at home during an earlier period with the conduct of English Churchmen of his own day towards indigent brethren, he charges the latter with neglecting to manifest sympathy and help. Foreign princes and their own countrymen of the same communion had founded colleges in other lands for Roman Catholics who were driven from England; and the age before the civil wars had been as fruitful in works of Protestant piety and charity as any age preceding it since the conversion of Britain. Hence, although foreign assistance could not be hoped for, yet a larger supply from home might have been expected, inasmuch as English Episcopalians then were much more numerous than English Catholics had been at the period referred to. "Hath the sword," he goes on to ask, "devoured up all the charitable Obadiahs in our land?" or, is there no man that lays "the affliction of Joseph to heart?" A great lack of love and zeal amongst brethren of the same faith in England alone could justify these interrogations—for Bramhall laments no want of ability in his friends to succour the wanderers, but only a want of will. The exiled Prelate could only cast himself and his companions upon the help of Heaven. "God, that maintained His people in the wilderness without the ordinary supply of food or raiment, will not desert us until 'He turn our captivity as the rivers in the south.' Where human help faileth, Divine begins."[326]

Bramhall.

Turning to Bramhall's "Vindication of himself and the Episcopal clergy from the Presbyterian charge of Popery,"—a book written about the year 1659, though not published till 1672[327]—in reply to Baxter's "Treatise of the Grotian Religion," we find in it a defence of the conduct of Episcopalians in the days of their prosperity. Baxter had complained of the persecutions inflicted by them upon the Puritans. According to him, in some places, it had been much more dangerous for a minister to preach a lecture once or twice on the Lord's Day, or to expound the Catechism, than it had been never to preach at all. Bramhall replies: "If preachers shall not content themselves to sow the wheat over again, but shall sow tares above the wheat; if they shall seek to introduce new doctrines, new disciplines, and new forms of worship, by popular sermons, different from and destructive to those which are established by law, who can blame the magistrates, political and ecclesiastical, if they begin to look about them? A seditious orator is dangerous everywhere, but nowhere more than in the pulpit. Then blame not magistrates, if they punish seditious or schismatical preachers more than one who is no preacher. All laws, and all prudent magistrates, regard public dangers more than particular defects."[328] The Bishop did not see that he employed a two-edged sword, and that while aiming a blow at his adversary, he ran the risk of receiving, through counter-thrusts, a wound from the back stroke of his own weapon. If to preach doctrines contrary to those which were established by law deserved chastisement from the magistrate—if such preaching was seditious preaching, then the Commonwealth Government was justified in depriving and silencing Episcopalian ministers. Bramhall vindicated his own party in having done the very same sort of thing which he now complained of as unrighteous when done by his opponents. It is plain enough that both parties were in the wrong, and that each furnished the other with a miserable pretext for revengeful injustice. And when the same writer, comparing Nonconformist with Episcopal sufferers, quietly says: the former suffered for faction, and the latter for faith,[329] and so concludes the subject,—everybody must smile to see how he assumes as settled the very point which was in dispute. His opponents could just as easily say that they were faithful, and that he and his brethren were factious. It is the old story—as old as human nature, and as modern as this morning's newspaper.

The Episcopalians were exposed to a cross fire from the Puritans, who charged them with Popery, and from the Papists, who charged them with schism. The story of the Nag's Head consecration was revived. Laud had treated Presbyterians and Independents as schismatics. M. de la Milletiere, counsellor in ordinary to the King of France, in an epistle, written in the year 1653, with a view of inviting Charles II. to embrace the Catholic faith, maintained, that everybody knew the Archbishop, who had been nourished in the English schism, had no other thought than to reunite in one body the people who were divided into sects amongst themselves, and to make himself chief head of one schismatical Church. "And we see," he adds, "God hath permitted that his own people, divided against itself, hath caused his head to be cut off." This passage illustrates the view which was entertained of Laud and his followers by foreign Roman Catholics, and also of the sort of controversy the refugees had to maintain in their travels through Roman Catholic countries. Bramhall published at the Hague, in 1653, a reply to this performance, repelling the charge of schism, and vindicating the memory of his friend. He calls Laud a most glorious martyr, a man of profound learning, exemplary life, clean hands, a most sincere heart, a patron of learning, and a friend of order and uniformity, but not for sinister ends.[330] The defence was honestly written, and indicated what many honest exiles thought of Laud—how they dwelt on his virtues, and were totally blind to the folly, mischief, and sin of his intolerance; but by holding up to admiration such a Prelate, without a word of condemnation for his faults, Bramhall and others gave bad omen of what they would do themselves if they should ever be restored to power.

Bramhall.

An elaborate confutation of the Nag's Head fable engaged the pen of the same writer, and issued from a press at the Hague in the year 1658.[331] In connection with his zeal and diligence in this controversy it is worth while to notice the suspicions which Bramhall entertained of Romanist intrigues in England throughout the Commonwealth era. These suspicions on the part of Presbyterians and Baptists have been already described. There must have been immense exaggeration in such reports; yet their extensive circulation amongst people of different opinions—all of them, however, agreeing in a hatred of Rome—is somewhat remarkable. Impossible as it now is to ascertain the amount of truth which these rumours might contain, they are curious as signs of what was a prevalent belief in those days. That the reader may see for himself what such a man as Bramhall heard and credited on this subject, we subjoin the greater part of a letter to Ussher, which he wrote in the year 1654:—

Bramhall on Romanists.

"It plainly appears that in the year 1646, by order from Rome, above one hundred of the Romish clergy were sent into England, consisting of English, Scotch, and Irish, who had been educated in France, Italy, Germany, and Spain; part of these within the several schools there appointed for their instructions. In each of these Romish nurseries, these scholars were taught several handicraft-trades and callings, as their ingenuities were most bending, besides their orders or functions of that Church. They have many yet at Paris a fitting to be sent over, who twice in the week oppose one the other; one pretending Presbytery, the other Independency; some Anabaptism, and the others contrary tenets—dangerous and prejudicial to the Church of England, and to all the Reformed here abroad. But they are wisely preparing to prevent their designs, which I heartily wish were considered in England among the wise there. When the Romish orders do thus argue pro and con, there is appointed one of the learned of those convents to take notes and to judge: and as he finds their fancies, whether for Presbytery, Independency, Anabaptism, Atheism, or for any new tenets, so, accordingly, they be to act, and to exercise their wits. Upon their permission, when they be sent abroad, they enter their names in the convent registry, also their licences; if a Franciscan, if a Dominician, or Jesuit, or any other order, having several names there entered in their licence; in case of a discovery in one place, then to fly to another, and there to change their names or habit. For an assurance of their constancy to their several orders, they are to give monthly intelligence to their fraternities of all affairs wherever they be dispersed; so that the English abroad know news better than ye at home. When they return into England, they are taught their lesson: to say, (if any enquire from whence they come,) that they are poor Christians formerly that fled beyond sea for their religion sake, and are now returned, with glad news, to enjoy their liberty of conscience. The one hundred men that went over in 1646, were most of them soldiers in the Parliament's army, and were daily to correspond with those Romanists in our late King's army that were lately at Oxford, and pretended to fight for his sacred Majesty; for, at that time, there were some Roman Catholics who did not know the design a contriving against our Church and State of England. But the year following, 1647, many of those Romish Orders who came over the year before were in consultation together, knowing each other. And those of the King's party, asking some why they took with the Parliament's side, and asking others whether they were bewitched to turn Puritans, not knowing the design; but at last, secret bulls and licences being produced by those of the Parliament's side, it was declared between them, there was no better design to confound the Church of England than by pretending liberty of conscience. It was argued then that England would be a second Holland, a Commonwealth; and if so, what would become of the King? It was answered, 'Would to God it were come to that point.' It was again replied, 'Yourselves have preached so much against Rome and his Holiness, that Rome and her Romanists will be little the better for that change:' but it was answered, 'You shall have mass sufficient for a hundred thousand in a short space, and the governors never the wiser.' Then some of the mercifullest of the Romanists said, 'This cannot be done unless the King die;' upon which argument, the Romish Orders thus licensed, and in the Parliament army, wrote unto their several convents, but especially to the Sorbonists, whether it may be scrupled to make away our late godly King and his Majesty his son, our King and master, who, blessed be God, hath escaped their Romish snares laid for him? It was returned from the Sorbonists, that it was lawful for Roman Catholics to work changes in Governments for the Mother Church's advancement, and chiefly in an heretical kingdom; and so lawfully make away the King."[332]

Cosin—Morley.

Concluding this imperfect story respecting the Bishops, we now relate what happened to the other clergy. Several of them went abroad. Cosin, the High Church Dean of Peterborough, was of this number. At Charenton, near Paris, according to Walker, he kept up the English Church discipline and worship by the Common Prayer, recovered some who were inclined to Popery, and had encounters with several Jesuits and Romish priests; but his tendencies in another direction appear in "Evelyn's Diary," where it is related that, "The Dean of Peterborough preached on the Feast of Pentecost; perstringing those of Geneva for their irreverence of the blessed Virgin."[333] The same diarist gives a glimpse of the ceremonies in the chapel of the exiles: "The King and Duke received the sacrament first by themselves, the Lords Byron and Wilmot holding the long towel all along the altar."[334] To shew the sincerity of the Dean, who had raised—and we do not wonder at it, when we think of his childish ritualism—such a storm of Puritan indignation against himself; and as an indication of his courage and his constancy—a trait of character, no doubt common in that age, as it is wont to be amongst all but the basest of mankind, when storms of persecution try their attachment to the Church of their childhood and their convictions—we venture to quote a few lines from one of Cosin's letters to his friend Sancroft, who was destined to occupy the chair of the Primacy, but was at the time of the Restoration a wanderer abroad: "I am right glad to hear still, (as I have been told by divers persons heretofore,) how firm and unmoved you continue your own standing in the midst of these great and violent storms that are now raised against the Church of England; which, for my part, notwithstanding the outward glory and dress that she had, be in these evil times taken from her, yet I honour and reverence above all the other churches of the world; for she bears upon her, more signally than any other that I know does, the marks of Christ, which, when all is done, will be our greatest glory."[335]

Dr. Morley, in company with Cosin, attended the English Court in the city of Paris in the year 1651.[336] After being engaged in the education of Hyde's family during part of their exile, at a period when they were "in great want already, and likely to be in more and more, even to a very great extremity, if God in mercy did not provide for it by some extraordinary means, beyond all visible probability,"—he became chaplain at Heidelberg to Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, at a salary of £50 per annum, with permission "to officiate to the Queen's family according to the liturgy of the Church of England, without any subordination to the classis." He had been a friend of Falkland, of Chillingworth, and of Waller, and before the wars was thought to favour the Puritans. Burnet says he was doctrinally a Calvinist, and was pious and charitable, but he also speaks of him as extremely passionate, and full of obstinacy—a statement which Baxter confirms in his account of the Savoy disputations.[337] He had in early days been "one of Ben Jonson's sons," a circumstance which accords with his life-long reputation for brilliant wit. That gift, always dangerous, is particularly so to a clergyman; and Morley, who is said to have been "keen, but inoffensive," though admired by his friends for his companionable qualities, was condemned by many for social habits and a tone of conversation unbecoming a Christian minister.

Basire.

Isaac Basire, who had been chaplain to King Charles and to the Bishop of Lichfield, and who had held a Prebendal stall and a Rectory, being deprived of all his preferments, found refuge in Rouen, his native city, whilst his wife and children were encompassed by pecuniary difficulties at home. After travelling with pupils in Italy and elsewhere, he visited the islands of the Mediterranean, and also the shores of Greece—where he preached, by invitation of the Metropolitan, before his bishops and the clergy. He visited Naples and Sicily, where he officiated for some weeks on board ship. He went also to Aleppo and Jerusalem, had conferences with the Greek and Latin clergy, and interested himself in the Coptic Churches: at the same time he aimed at reforming the Eastern Christians, and endeavoured to promulgate the doctrines and formularies of English Episcopalians.[338] We are perfectly ready to honour a man who, in the hour of his spiritual mother's humiliation, and when driven from her altars, vindicated her priesthood, maintained her ritual, and diffused her principles; but we must add, that Basire attached most unjustifiable importance to certain ecclesiastical matters, and went beyond bounds in his episcopalian zeal, betraying, at the same time, a strong hatred to those who in England held the reins of government.

Jeremy Taylor.

Let us return to our own country, to trace other and more illustrious Episcopal confessors in their various retreats. Jeremy Taylor, after submitting to the drudgery of school-keeping in a Welsh village, found for a while a congenial and charming home at Golden Grove. There—to use some of his own richly-coloured words—as the highest branches of the wood stooped, and made a smooth path for the winds on the top of all its glories—and as the sun so gloriously opened the little eye of heaven and sent away the spirits of darkness, and called up the lark to matins, and gilded the fringes of a cloud, and wept great and little showers; and as the images of the trees hung over the water, and were reflected from the bottom, and as the lark rose from his bed of grass, and climbed above the clouds, and was beaten back with the loud sighing of an eastern wind—the great poet-preacher gathered images for his discourses. And again, as he heard the faint echo of a distant valley, and watched the little bee that feeds on dew, and pried into the ivy creeping at the foot of the oak, he found lessons of instructive piety to delight mankind. Looking at what Taylor there worked up into his marvellous imagination, it may be truly said, "the gold of that land was good;" but his temporary sojourn in a paradise-like retreat was followed by imprisonment in Chepstow Castle, and afterwards in the Tower of London, in consequence of incautious language which he used in reference to his Puritan oppressors, and because of a "superstitious" engraving of our Saviour at prayer, prefixed by his publisher to the "Collection of Offices." Taylor's theology, which was surpassed by his eloquence, brought him into trouble with the calmer and more careful Divines of his own Church, as well as with the Presbyterians; his "Treatise on Repentance" drawing tears from the eyes of Sanderson, who complained that his friend was pulling down the ancient landmarks of the Christian faith. His controversy with Jeanes, the Presbyterian, proved that Taylor had a quick temper—that instead of "receiving furies and indiscretions like a stone into a bed of moss and soft compliances," he could send out angry words like fire when the flint and steel come into collision. With ruffled temper, when the controversy was over, he remarked: "I have been so pushed at by herds and flocks of people that follow anybody that whistles to them, or drives them to pasture, that I am grown afraid of any truth that seems chargeable with singularity;" and thus it appears that he had to pay the penalty of unpopularity and opposition, which all men must pay who, whether right or wrong, venture to differ from the theological opinions of their brethren. In a nobler and sweeter tone he confessed, when the wings of his spirit were smoothed once more: "For my part I have learned to humble myself, and to adore the inscrutable paths of the Most High. God and truth are still the same, though the foundations of the world be shaken." And again: "We are reduced to that religion which no man can forbid—which we can keep in the midst of a persecution—by which the martyrs in the days of our fathers went to heaven—that by which we can be servants of God, and receive the Spirit of Christ, and make use of His comforts, and live in His love, and in charity with all men, and they that do so cannot perish." With exquisite delicacy and pathos, Taylor alludes to his poverty in a letter to Evelyn (1656): "Sir, I know not when I shall be able to come to London, for our being stripped of the little reliques of our fortune remaining after the shipwreck leaves us not cordage nor sails sufficient to bear me thither." Taylor is supposed, but not with any sufficient foundation, to have at one period held a pastoral charge in London; certainly he obtained induction to a Lectureship at Lisburn, in Ireland. Residing at Portmore, in the enjoyment of Lord Conway's hospitality, he found repeated there some of the charming scenes and also some of the associations and advantages of Golden Grove. Yet, again, the great preacher's repose was interrupted by a fanatical Presbyterian, who informed against him as a dangerous man who used the sign of the cross in baptism. Writing in 1659-60, Taylor remarks: "I had been in the worst of our winter weather sent for to Dublin by our late Anabaptist Commissioners, and found the evil of it so great that in my going I began to be ill, but in my return had my ill redoubled." The Restoration found him bringing through the press the Ductor Dubitantium.[339]

Sanderson and Hammond.

Of those who were ejected from the University of Oxford, Sanderson and Hammond were the most distinguished. Their story is amongst the most beautiful legends of the age, and their loving intercourse reminds us of the friendship of Basil and Gregory in far earlier times. As their lives were entwined round each other, so are their memories. Sanderson retired to Boothby parish, where he continued to minister according to Episcopalian rites, only disturbed occasionally by soldiers while he was reading prayers. They told him how God could be served more acceptably, and then they enforced their advice by tearing the liturgy to pieces. A prudent and affectionate Parliamentary friend recommended him not to be strict in reading all the prayers, "especially if the soldiers came to watch him," "for which reasons he did vary somewhat from the strict rules of the rubric." His admiring biographer sets down the form of confession which, perhaps in consequence of such advice, was used by this Divine, and it shews what minute variations were adopted by clergymen in order to evade the ordinance against the use of the Common Prayer Book.[340] Sanderson preached every Sunday, solicitously enquiring "what he might do to speak more plainly or more movingly: whether his extemporary wording might not be a defect, and the like." He daily read prayers, and the time between doing this and the hour of dinner he employed in instructing the children of the family with whom he lived; "observing diligently the little deviations of their manners, and applying remedies unto them."

After an abortive attempt had been made by some Royalists in the neighbourhood of Tunbridge to help the King, Hammond, then living there, felt obliged to remove; and, upon visiting his old tutor, Dr. Buckner, "in such a habit as that exigence made necessary," he, under his friend's hospitable roof, though "no valuer of trifles," had so extraordinary a dream that he could not then despise or ever afterwards forget it. "He thought himself and a multitude of others to have been abroad in a bright and cheerful day, when on a sudden there seemed a separation to be made, and he, with the far less number, to be placed at a distance from the rest; and then, the clouds gathering, a most tempestuous storm arose, with thundering and lightnings, with spouts of impetuous rain, and violent gusts of wind, and whatever else might add unto a scene of horror, particularly balls of fire, that shot themselves amongst the ranks of those that stood in the lesser party; when a gentle whisper seemed to interrupt those other louder noises, saying: Be still, and ye shall receive no harm. Amidst these terrors, the doctor falling to his prayers, soon after the tempest ceased, and that well-known cathedral anthem begun, Come, Lord Jesus, come away, with which he awoke. The correspondent event of all which he found verified signally in the preservation both of himself and his friends in doing of their duties; the which with much content he was used to mention. Beside, being himself taken to the choir of angels at the close of that land-hurricane of ours, whereof that dismal apparition was only a faint emblem, he gave thereby too literal a completion to his dream, and the unhappy credit of bordering upon prophecy."[341]

Sanderson.

Hammond went to see Sanderson at Boothby, when Hammond persuaded him to attempt the practice of memoriter preaching. Early on a Sunday morning, they walked to a neighbouring church, where the minister requested the favour of a sermon. Sanderson entered the pulpit, having previously put the MS. of the discourse, which he had committed to memory, into his friend's hands. The effort to preach in this way turned out a humiliating failure. The preacher, before he had delivered the third part of what he meant to say, became very confused, and "so lost as to the matter," that his learned auditor was frightened, and many of the village congregation discovered that there was something wrong. "Good doctor," said Sanderson, as they were returning home, "give me my sermon, and know that neither you nor any man living, shall ever persuade me to preach again without my books." "Good doctor," returned the other, "be not angry; for if I persuade you to preach again without book, I will give you leave to burn all those that I am master of."[342]

Another interesting glimpse of Sanderson is caught in "Walton's Lives." When he came up to London in 1655, the worthy angler met him near Little Britain, "in sad-coloured clothes—far from being costly." One can see the noble countenance of the man—with his lofty forehead, fine regular features, full round eyes, white moustache, and trimly-peaked beard;—only he was now dressed in lay attire, and that of a very humble kind, instead of appearing, as in his portrait, with surplice, scarf, and college cap. It was raining at the time, and he and Walton turned aside to gossip under a pent-house; when, the wind driving in their faces, they adjourned to "a cleanly house," where they had bread, cheese, ale, and a fire for their money. Their conversation naturally turned upon the Church; and Sanderson bewailed the abolishing of the Prayer Book and the use of extempore prayer, pronouncing the Collects "the most passionate, proper, and most elegant expressions that any language ever afforded." The Liturgy, the Psalms, and the language of devotion, he complained, had been exchanged for needless debates about free-will, election, and reprobation. Such lamentations no doubt formed the staple of much table-talk amongst the class to which the ejected Oxonian belonged; and in the contempt poured upon extempore prayer he manifested the onesidedness of Episcopalian prejudices. He and his opponents were not in a position to regard fairly each other's methods of devotion. Mutual war had exasperated the passions, so as to produce in both a stone-blindness to that which was good beyond their own narrow enclosures. The same tone of prejudice also led Sanderson to point at Puritanism another shaft—which larger acquaintance with human nature, and a deeper sense of justice, will lead the moral censor, with a slight modification of phraseology, to apply to hypocrites of all sects. They thought, said the Anglican Churchman, that "they might be religious first, and then just and merciful; that they might sell their consciences, and yet have something left that was worth keeping; that they might be sure they were elected, though their lives were visibly scandalous; that to be cunning was to be wise; that to be rich was to be happy, though their wealth was got without justice or mercy; that to be busy in things they understood not, was no sin." The writer and other clear-headed men besides him did not see, that after all, the charge of hypocrisy applies, not to the thoroughly honest, though fanatical Puritan of the Commonwealth, but to all such persons as for awhile assumed the livery of a sect for their own selfish ends: amongst whom were many who a few years afterwards declared, that they had been Episcopalian in heart throughout the whole period, and had only "submitted to the times." Curious, too, is it to find this distinguished man, at the end of his interesting conversation with Walton, starting the idea, that the way to restore the country to a more meek and Christian temper was to prepare a body of Church divinity in fifty-two homilies, each to be of such length as not to exceed a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes' reading.[343] Melancholy it is to learn that this scholar and Divine, in the year 1658, was in so low a condition as to be glad to receive £50 as a present from Dr. Barlow.

Hammond's Letters.

Sanderson's friend, Dr. Hammond, wins our heart at once, as we hear him say: "He delighted to be loved, not reverenced," and he excites our veneration, too, as he exclaims, with vehemence: "Oh! what a glorious thing, how rich a prize for the expense of a man's whole life, were it to be the instrument of rescuing one soul!" He lived with a family in which he acted as chaplain, when Cromwell's intolerant decree of 1655 disturbed his peace. Roused to righteous indignation, he wrote his "Parænesis," in which "he resented with the highest passion" the Protector's edict; at the same time he looked, as he says, upon this dispensation of Providence as if God pronounced him unworthy to do any service, and as if He reproached him of former unprofitableness, by casting him out now like straw upon a dunghill. Hammond being one who made the best of circumstances—saying, with Epictetus, "that everything has two handles: if the one prove hot, and not to be touched, we may take the other that is more temperate"—always advocated quiet submission to Providence during what he considered to be afflictive times.[344]

Hammond's Letters.

Several of his letters are preserved in the British Museum. In one of these, addressed to Sheldon, afterwards Bishop of London, so early as October the 14th, 1649, he remarks, respecting his friend: "I think, when I saw Dr. S[anderson] last, certainly he told me he used the Common Prayer, otherwise I wonder not that he that disuses it, should think fit to go to their churches that do omit it. When you meet with him, endeavour to infuse some courage into him, the want of which may betray his reason. His opinion expressed will betray many."[345] The method pursued by Sanderson, of using the Liturgy with verbal alterations, so as to give the appearance of not adopting it, when he employed it in substance, displeased and perplexed some of his episcopal acquaintance; but beyond this—as it appears from another letter by Hammond—his companion once thought of becoming associated in public religious ministrations "with the Grantham Lecturers." To do such a thing, Hammond, altogether a stiffer Churchman than Sanderson, regarded as illegal—as not allowed by the authority of the Bishop, who was still alive, and might be consulted—as countenancing schismatics, and therefore an act of schism—and as not right, even if the end were good. The rest of the letter is so indicative of the temper of the best High Churchmen in those days, that it deserves to be quoted at length. "I cannot believe that the end, by your letter mentioned, is good for to sweeten them by complying with them in schismatical acts; and making them believe themselves pardonable, whilst they continue and remain unreformed in their schism, is to confirm them in their course and so to scandalize them as well as others, to put a stumbling-block in their way to reformation. Certainly the greater charity to those moderate reformable Presbyters were to assist, and hasten the perfecting of their repentance, and renouncing of their erroneous practices, and then if the Bishop give leave to Dr. Sa[nderson] to erect some other lecture, they will sure come and combine with him. And for those that mean not this, 'tis certain that they are not to be persuaded, that if the laws regain their power, they shall be tolerated (their way being so unreconcilable with Prelacy), and as certain that instead of serving Dr. Sanderson's end they desire to serve themselves of him, and by his presence and joining with them, to have him thought such as they—and so hath Mr. Baxter already divided the Prelatical Clergy into two parts, one exemplified by Dr. Ussher and Dr. Sanderson; the other styled, in gross, Cassandrian, Grotian Papists; and several of his friends marked out by some circumstances to be of that number. Lastly, he may do well to consider whether, if from writing for the Engagement first and then the laying aside the Liturgy, he proceed farther to this, it will not be after more easy to superstruct on these beginnings more suitable practices than it hath been to reconcile these to his former writings [and?] persuasions. And whether, on the other side, this be not a season much better for him to appear in upholding the truth by answering the London Presbyters' vindication (in sixty sheets shortly coming out) of their government ordination, &c., than to seem (a person of such authority) to consent to it by practising with them."[346] From this communication it appears how strongly such men as Hammond opposed the idea of any scheme of ecclesiastical comprehension—how determined they were to maintain the exclusive system of the Episcopal Church, and how honestly they did so, when by relaxing a little the bonds so strictly drawn, they might have gained some freedom for themselves. Their integrity in that respect deserves credit, but it also shews how hopeless was any idea of union between Episcopalians and Presbyterians after the Restoration, when men who were really so good were also so narrow-minded.

Another epistle from the same pen presents the writer under another aspect. Zealous for the preservation of Episcopacy, he proposed to contribute munificently to a fund for the support of learned persons who might advance its interests. The proposal was addressed to Sheldon, who had been ejected from All Souls, when Hammond had suffered expulsion from his Professorship. "Let me mention to you an hasty undigested fancy of mine suggested to me by reading the conclusion of Bishop Bramhall's excellent book of schism, pages 276, 277. It is this: What if you and Dr. Henchman and I should endeavour to raise £600 per annum (each of us gaining subscriptions for £200) for seven years, to maintain a society of twenty exiled scholars; and, when we discern the thing feasible, communicate it to Bishop Bramhall, and require of him a catalogue of twenty such, whose wants and desires of such a recess, in some convenient place (by him to be thought of also) might make it a fit charity to recommend to pious persons? Next, if this be not unreasonable to be endeavoured, then, tell me whether it must be privately carried or may be publicly avowed, and what else you can think of to perfect and form this sudden rude conceit? which, when I have also communicated to Dr. Henchman, I shall be content to be laughed at by either of you."[347]

Hammond's Death.

Dr. Hammond died before the Restoration. His patience during his last sufferings, which were extremely great, his reliance upon Jesus Christ as the Saviour of sinners, his humility and thankfulness, and his dying words, "Lord make haste," are duly recorded by his biographer Fell. But, as some additional information respecting his disease, and the temper in which he bore it, is supplied by a letter of his widow, we venture to introduce it here:—"It is my great misfortune I neither can send to you as I would, nor hear from you as I desire, for sometimes my friend is not here when your letters come, then they are delivered to him, wheresoever he is, which many times makes it very long before I can return an answer; but now my long silence was occasioned by my dear husband's sickness and death, which, though my loss was very great, yet, when I consider God's mercy was so infinitely shewed both to him and me, giving us, first, many years of comfort together and life to a very great age, and then a gentle correction to bring him home to Him, and gave him the comfort of his children about him, and be a great comfort and example to them of patience and humility, submitting to God's will in all. Indeed, I cannot say he had better health at any time, since we came into these parts, than he had the last very hard winter; overcoming it with so much life and spirit, I believed he might have lived some years more, till this accident happened upon him, which proved an ulcer under his tongue. At first I thought little of it, neither did he much complain, I used such means as I had, and thought good for that purpose, but he still continued ill; then we had a surgeon at least two months in hand, making no difficulty at all of healing of it; but I, seeing it continue so long and no change to the better, I desired him to deal plainly with me, and what his opinion was. He told me, he [could] see now he must use sharper medicines to it, and cornise, (sic, cauterize?) which I would not suffer without better advice. My son sent us a very excellent surgeon, and a very honest man. As soon as he looked on it, gave me little comfort by reason of my husband's age, but approved of what I had done and gave me further directions what to do; and said no violence must he use to it, for he feared, as the summer came on, it would grow worse, which, indeed, it did, and eat till all his teeth came out on that side, which was a great disheartening to him; but I comforted him as well as I could, though I much feared his tongue would have been eaten out if he had continued long, which would have made his life unpleasant to him, and a great grief to all his friends about him; but my gracious God was very merciful to both him and me, for having prepared him with great patience and humility to submit either to life or death, and with St. Paul to say, that death was gain. Our great God kept us from want, and gave us the comfort of our children about us, and that good man, as you say, which indeed hath been a great comfort to me in all my afflictions. My many years tell me I shall not be long after him; I pray God I may follow his good example, and then we shall meet in perfect joy together. My good friend would not give me the discomfort of your sickness till he heard you were past danger, though I had many times enquired of him, when he heard from you, but told me he did not use to hear from you. I do give God most hearty thanks for your recovery, and do daily pray that He, in His infinite mercy, will continue good people amongst us for our example, that we may be fit for His mercy. Within this three weeks I have received your bounty, but no letter which would give me great satisfaction of your health, which I daily pray for. Excuse this long scribbled letter, and make me happy with a line from you."[348]

Thorndike.

Another learned Anglo-Catholic Divine requires attention on his own account, and in consequence of his disapproval of such conciliatory methods as were favoured by the more truly Catholic Episcopalian Sanderson. Herbert Thorndike, whose erudition did honour to Cambridge, was ejected first from Barley, in Hertfordshire, and then from his Fellowship at Trinity College. His name occurs in the list of those who were relieved by the beneficence of Lord Scudamore, and also amongst the friends of Walton engaged upon the great polyglott.[349] With a logical mind, which was eminently fitted for systematizing opinions, he had worked out Anglo-Catholic principles into a complete scheme of theology. His central point was that "the title of our salvation is the covenant of baptism, whereby we undertake to profess Christianity and to live according to it, in despite of the devil and all his works;"[350] and this view he urges incessantly in his writings against the Puritan doctrine of justification by faith. Episcopal order, and the use of the Prayer Book, without even the slightest alteration, found in Thorndike a most zealous defender; and, it may be inferred from such a circumstance, that the Puritans had not a more steady and determined opponent than this able man. He could not understand them. Their doctrinal views, as seen through his prejudices, seemed to be of an antinomian nature, whilst their ecclesiastical proceedings, judged of with the same unfairness, were denounced as schismatical and as utterly subversive of all Church order. Hence he condemned Sanderson's practice of altering the prayers; arguing that though force might make him omit what he was ecclesiastically commanded, it could not make him do what he was ecclesiastically forbidden.[351] Thorndike was made of such stern, tough stuff, that he revolted from all mere politic measures, and from all attempts at compromise. He never asked what was expedient, but only what was right; yet also he deemed trimming to be as unwise as it was wrong, and he maintained that not to omit a word of the service would be as safe as the method adopted by Sanderson. He advised that when the whole Liturgy could not be read, as much of it should be used as possible without any alteration.[352] One of his papers, dated 1656, preserved in the Westminster Chapter Library, contains an argument against communicating with the Presbyterian or other sects: most uncharitably and unjustly he inferred—from their doctrine of justification by faith, which he quite misunderstood—that they could not "think themselves tied to live as Christians," or, as he added, to repent and return to that Christianity which they had forfeited. And beside this—fearing that the sects would swallow up the Church, which they had broken in pieces—he warned Churchmen against in any way owning Puritan teachers or frequenting Puritan sermons, whatever danger there might be of temporal penalties in pursuing a different path, or whatever "difficulty of finding what course to take."[353]

Evelyn's Diary.

As to the inner life of persecuted Episcopalianism, "Evelyn's Diary" affords information beyond, perhaps, any other contemporary production. A sequestered and learned minister preached in Evelyn's parlour and administered the blessed sacrament, when, according to Episcopal usage, it was "wholly out of use in the parish churches." He heard once the Common Prayer read[354] ("a rare thing in those days") in St. Peter's, at Paul's Wharf, London; and in the morning of the same day he listened to the preaching of "the Archbishop of Armagh—that pious person and learned man, Ussher—in Lincoln's Inn Chapel." On a Christmas day there was no sermon anywhere, no church being permitted to be open, so the diarist observed it at home. The next day he went to Lewisham, where "an honest Divine delivered a discourse."[355]

Now and then an "honest orthodox man" ascended the pulpit of Evelyn's parish church, and although the Incumbent was "somewhat of the Independent," yet "he ordinarily preached sound doctrine and was a peaceable man, which was an extraordinary felicity in that age." Once Evelyn heard a person who "had been both chaplain and lieutenant to Admiral Penn, and who thus, as he says, used "both swords."[356]

Repeatedly notices occur in the "Diary" of neglected festivals, and of private preachings and communions; and he indicates his caution no less than his zeal, by stating that his only reason for going to church whilst these "usurpers" possessed the pulpits was, that he might not be suspected of being a Papist. He felt the wholesome uses of adversity, and states—after alluding to Dr. Wild as preaching in a private house in Fleet Street—that the zealous Christians who gathered together there were much more religious and devout than they had ever been in times of prosperity. He notes down the circumstance, that on Christmas day, 1657, at the conclusion of a sermon by Mr. Gunning, in Exeter Chapel, the building was surrounded by soldiers, and the communicants were kept inside as prisoners. Evelyn himself had his place of confinement in the mansion to which the chapel belonged; but was allowed to dine with the noble master of it, the Countess of Dorset, Lady Hatton, and others. Some of Oliver's colonels came in the afternoon to enquire into the matter, and they asked the Royalist churchman why he durst offend against the ordinances of Parliament. It appears from his answer that the name of "King Charles" had been omitted from the service, and that supplications of a general kind were offered on behalf of kings and princes. At the conclusion of the account, however, the diarist acknowledges that the soldiers after all, did not really interrupt the worship, but only held up their muskets "as if" he says, "they would have shot us at the altar, but yet suffering us to finish the office of communion."[357]

Such was the case in London. In the country an instance occurred—perhaps only representing several of the same kind—of a public defiance of the law. In the year 1658, as John Wilson, a cloth merchant of Leeds, kinsman of Bishop Wilson's father, was walking through the streets he met the Vicar and said to him: "When shall we have Divine service again in Leeds Old Church?" The Vicar replied: "Whenever Mr. Wilson will protect me in the discharge of my duty." "Then," he rejoined, "by the grace of God it shall be next Sunday." Accordingly, on that day the bells rang as in the days before the wars, for morning prayers, and a large congregation was gathered together. In the centre aisle stood Mr. Wilson, with a great number of persons drawn up as if to protect the Vicar. News of this occurrence soon reached London, and an order came down for the imprisonment of the bold violator of Parliamentary ordinances; but before his trial could take place Oliver Cromwell died.[358]

Episcopalians.

Mention has been already made of a practice, adopted by some Anglicans, of using parts of the Prayer Book with less or more of alteration. But besides this method another appears to have been proposed, if not actually adopted. There lies before us, at the moment of writing these lines, a little volume in manuscript,[359] evidently intended to be read by Episcopalian Churchmen in their worship during the Commonwealth. It neither exactly follows the order, nor does it, except in a very few instances, adopt the phraseology of the Common Prayer. "A Prayer preparatory to the holy Sacrament" appears upon the first page, followed by "A Meditation when we come to the holy table"—meant no doubt for private use; and next to it there follows that which appears to be the opening of a service of social worship. It commences with a long series of confessions, including this remarkable one:—"Not observing the times of festivity or fasting appointed by just authority according to the example of Thy people in all ages." After each article of confession there occur the words: "O Lord! righteousness belongs unto Thee, but unto us confusion of face, as at this day." "The form of absolution, to be pronounced by the priest only," is expressed in the following terms:—"Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, who of His great mercy hath promised forgiveness of sins to all them that with hearty repentance and true faith turn unto Him, have mercy upon you, pardon and deliver you from all your sins, confirm and strengthen you in all goodness, and bring you to everlasting salvation, both of body and soul, through Jesus Christ our Lord." Next to the absolution is the Lord's Prayer; and next to the Lord's Prayer are brief petitions associated with it—the same as are found in the like portion of the "Order for Morning and Evening Prayer" in the Church of England service at the present day. Lamentations respecting the Church and the nation are inserted; after which the first lesson is directed to be read;[360] then comes "A Form collected out of the Psalms," in which the people respond to the priest. There succeed three prayers; the first two confessing sins, and imploring mercy, the third interceding for the son of Charles I. There are also prayers for the clergy, for the enemies of the Church, and for the removal of the anger of God from His afflicted people. The service ends with the benediction. "A Prayer to be said during these troubles;" "A Confession of God's justice in His punishments, and A Deprecation of His judgments;" and "A Prayer for the 30th of January," conclude the volume. From the second of these forms we extract the following passage:—"Arise, O arm of the Lord, and put on strength, let not man have the upper hand, let not the mischievous imaginations of our enemies prosper, lest they be too proud. But now Thou hast frustrated all our worldly hopes and affiances, take the matter we beseech Thee into Thine own hands, and by what means it pleaseth Thee, put a period to our wasting miseries, that these lands may no longer be rent and torn asunder by their own children, and thus made drunk with the blood of their own inhabitants. Bring into Thy way of truth all such as offend through ignorance, mollify the hard-hearted, be merciful to all that offend not of malicious wickedness, but let Thy exemplary judgments be upon such as will not turn nor fear God, and be a means for the speedier conversion of the rest. O God of all order and peace, and yet makest men to be of one mind in an house, turn the hearts of the people of these lands to their God, to Thy servant our King, one to another, make up our breaches, heal our wounds, compose our divisions, bring all things again into a right frame among us, both in Church and State, and knit us again together in the unity of the Spirit and in the bond of peace. Arise and help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of Thy name; help us in these our great extremities in this most needful time of trouble, for Thy promise' sake, for Thy mercies' sake, for Thy Son Christ Jesus' sake, to whom with Thee and the Holy Ghost be all glory and praise now and for ever."

Episcopalians.

Thus the proscribed and suffering children of the Episcopal Church, forbidden to use the ancient prayers so dear to their affections, prepared for themselves new ones, in which they expressed their patriotism and their loyalty. The latter sentiment is conspicuous in these original offices—indeed it had become a perfect passion in the breasts of the Episcopalians. Whatever doubts some might have formerly felt as to the wisdom of the proceedings of Charles the First, they now almost all regarded him as a martyr for Episcopacy; so that, as they engaged in their devotions, the crimson-stained shadow of the departed monarch rose before their eyes with a touching solemnity and religious reverence for his memory blended with their remembered allegiance to his crown. Thorough legitimists, they now esteemed that crown the property of his eldest son. All Republicans, all Commonwealth men, all who dared to uphold the rights of Parliament or of a Protector against the rights of kings, were to them no better than rebels. Whereas the loyalty of some persons rested on their religion, the religion of many more rested on their loyalty. They cared very little, if at all, about ecclesiastical and spiritual questions. They simply believed that King Charles had died for the Church of England, and that, as loyal men, they ought to love it for King Charles' sake. The religion of many of them was merely a feeling of that description. Sufferings in the cause—as is always the case—endeared the cause to the sufferers. They had lost their relatives in battle; they felt twinges in their old wounds when the weather changed; Naseby and Marston Moor were names to them full of anguish. They had endured confiscation, imprisonment, and bonds. One could tell how he had carried packets to the Queen at the risk of his life; a second how he had lost his eyes and his arms in the King's service; a third how he had been tossed and tumbled up and down, and was tried eleven times for his life, and how he was brought to the foot of the gallows, and yet after all escaped with his life; and a fourth, how he had lost £2,000, had been turned out of doors, had been burnt with matches, and carried to Worcester, and kept there under guard, whence he had fled, had been obliged to take to trees for a hiding place in the day time, and then to travel all night, had been caught and sent to the gatehouse, and sentenced to be shot, and had then got out of prison during sermon time, and lived three weeks in an enemy's haymow, and limped on crutches to Bristol, and so escaped. The widows of soldiers, too, talked of being plundered, stripped, and whipped, of their banished children, and of their own poverty and hardships; in all which stories, though there might be not a little exaggeration, there was also not a little truth.[361]

Episcopalian Loyalty.

The loyalty of these persons, as we have said, is prominently exhibited in the little Prayer Book before us; and from its pages we quote the following remarkable petitions for Prince Charles:—

"O blessed Lord God, who hast in Thy fatherly care and goodness taken our late gracious Sovereign into Thy peace, and left the inheritance of his throne and sceptre to his firstborn, we beseech Thee to prepare and instruct him for so high and so weighty a calling. Be Thou pleased, out of the riches of Thy treasure, to pour Thy wisdom into his heart, to command that double portion of his father's spirit to rest upon him—the head of Solomon and the heart of David—and withal the meekness and true Christian charity, the inward calmness, and placability of spirit, that may arm him thoroughly against all the provocations of an unthankful people; that he may come and reign amongst us, as a tender compassionate father of all his kingdoms, carry them, as Moses did Thy people, in his arms, from a desert to Canaan, and go in and out before them with that conduct which Thy pillar of fire and cloud afforded them. Lord, be Thou his light and his guide, his counsellor and protector, his shield and his exceeding great reward; keep him from all the designs of the enemies of his and our peace; preserve him as the apple of thine own eyes; and because of the great strait and difficulties which are now before him, the obstructions which none but Thine especial interposition can remove, Lord, fasten his heart, and the eyes and hearts of all his counsellors steadfastly and unanimously upon Thee, to keep close to Thy ways and rule, and be Thou continually assistant to them, that without the effusion of any more blood, if it be Thy sacred will, he may attain to a peaceable possession and establishment in his inheritance; erect his throne in the hearts and loyal affections of his people; give them all a thorough sight of the great errors of their former ways, and sincere endeavour to approve their fidelity to him whom Thou hast set over us. Unite us all at length in the Christian bond of peace and love, in the practice and power of all godliness, that being by this last astonishing cup, added to so many former punishments, made inwardly sensible of Thine anger for this unnatural division, we may all at length be reduced to our bounden obedience, to the glory of Thy sacred name, the vindication of our defamed religion, the comfort of our King, and the happiness and restoration of these languishing kingdoms; and confirm all this to us, O Lord, in the bowels of Thine own mercy, to a sinful people, through the mediation of Thine own dear Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Episcopalian Loyalty.

There is no doubt a great deal to admire in these expressions of attachment to the old regal rule of England, and in these supplications for him whom the Episcopalians could not fail to regard as heir to the throne; but then, on the other hand, no one can shut his eyes to the fact that these persons, precisely to the same degree in which they evinced their devotion to monarchy now abolished, and their love for the Stuart dynasty now exiled, shewed themselves to be disaffected subjects of the existing Government—rebels, in short, against the Republic and the Protectorate. Unquestionably they formed a very dangerous class. Their religion, and their holiest services, were identified with the strongest desires for a revolution. They believed that the overthrow of the powers of the State was essential to the restored prosperity of their Church. No doubt the righteous course of the supreme authority in England at that time would have been to separate what had become entangled; and whilst consistently forbidding such worship as was instinct with the spirit of treason, justly to concede full toleration for such worship as was simply Episcopalian. But, looking at human nature, and at the exasperation of men's feelings in those days, such clear discrimination and such calm equity are much more than could be expected; and therefore whilst we decidedly condemn the intolerance of forbidding the use of the Prayer Book altogether, we are bound to recognize—as some excuse for the Commonwealth Rulers, or, at least, as a fact claiming some mitigation of our censures of their conduct—the political position of the Episcopalians, assumed either by their continued use of the old royalistic formularies, or by their adoption of new ones even stronger and more revolutionary in their place. It is also only fair to recollect what large provocations the Puritans had received only a few years earlier from persons of this very class when they were in the ascendant; as well as to remember what provocation the rulers of the country still met with from persons of the same class who were known to be actually engaged in plots for their overthrow. And after all, the pressure put upon the Episcopal party in the darkest hour of their history under the Commonwealth is not to be compared, as it respects violence on the one side and suffering on the other, with what was inflicted by Churchmen, and experienced by Nonconformists, under Charles the First and Charles the Second.[362] Nor is there any resemblance between the amount of persecution endured by the disciples of Prelacy at the period under review, and the amount of sorrow and pain which was then borne by another class of Christians whose history will be unfolded in the following chapter.

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