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

by John Stoughton

CHAPTER XV.

Sometimes, by the shore of a lake, the eye catches prismatic effects upon the ripples, as if chains and rings of gold, and green, and crimson, were thickly scattered in fragments over the surface, whilst weeds lie plain enough beneath, covering the bottom of the mountain-girdled waters. Little creations and images of the glorious light above are those ripples; and no unapt illustration do they afford of the varieties of spiritual life in this lower world; for all these varieties are really reflections of the Sun of Righteousness—reflections manifold, always imperfect and sometimes confused, and ever found with the weeds of fallen humanity growing underneath them.

The religious history of the Commonwealth abounds in specimens of such varieties: we proceed to furnish further instances of these, not only from Anglo-Catholic and Puritan biographies, but from others in which there is the absence of either peculiarity, or a blending of the two.

George Herbert.

Amidst the Civil Wars, and under the ascendancy of Presbyterianism, there could no longer be the same kind of pastoral care as that which threw such an air of saintliness over Bemerton rectory. The "country parson" could no more use the Prayer Book and keep Church festivals. Daily worship had ceased, such as George Herbert loved to attend, at the canonical hours of ten and four, when "he lifted up pure and charitable hands to God in the midst of the congregation." There could no longer assemble in public twice a day, an Anglican congregation, composed of parishioners and gentlemen of the neighbourhood. An end had also come to the usage described by Isaac Walton: "Some of the meaner sort of his parish did so love and reverence Mr. Herbert, that they would let their plough rest, when Mr. Herbert's saint's-bell rung to prayers, that they might also offer their devotions to God with him, and would then return back to their plough." Yet throughout the Commonwealth era the lofty devotion of the poet-priest—albeit touched with asceticism and other weaknesses—continued to beat in many hearts, and to inspire the concealed use of ancient formularies.

Never was anything more beautiful than Herbert's dying confession: "I now look back upon the pleasures of my life past, and see the content I have taken in beauty, in wit, in music, and pleasant conversation, are now all past by me like a dream, or as a shadow that returns not, and are now all become dead to me, or I to them; and I see, that as my father and generation hath done before me, so I also shall now suddenly (with Job) make my bed also in the dark; and I praise God I am prepared for it; and I praise Him that I am not to learn patience now I stand in such need of it; and that I have practised mortification, and endeavoured to die daily, that I might not die eternally! and my hope is that I shall shortly leave this valley of tears, and be free from all fevers and pain; and, which will be a more happy condition, I shall be free from sin, and all the temptations and anxieties that attend it; and this being past, I shall dwell in the New Jerusalem; dwell there with men made perfect; dwell where these eyes shall see my Master and Saviour Jesus; and with Him see my dear mother and all my relations and friends. But I must die, or not come to that happy place. And this is my content, that I am going daily towards it; and that every day which I have lived hath taken a part of my appointed time from me, and that I shall live the less time for having lived this and the day past."

Such words were not theatrically uttered; they simply expressed the life which the good man had really lived—a life which was in truth a continued Sunday, answering to what he played and sung in those last hours.

"The Sundays of man's life

Threaded together on time's string,

Make bracelets to adorn the wife

Of the eternal, glorious King.

On Sundays, heaven's door stands ope,

Blessings are plentiful and rife—

More plentiful than hope."

Punctilious about forms, yet no formalist—thinking much of Lent, Ember weeks, and Church rites, yet not to the neglect of spiritual religion—and loving his parish as he loved his relatives, Herbert of course deemed Nonconformists to be interlopers. Yet, what Nonconformist will not forgive him the harshness of his judgment, considering the purity of his spirit, and the elevation of his soul, and how he did all things for the Master's honour? This cast of sentiment repeated itself in many devout Anglicans, who in a measure conformed to ecclesiastical changes, or resolutely suffered loss for conscience' sake. Nor was sympathy with the tone of Herbert's hymns wanting even amongst contemporary Puritans. Baxter said: "I must confess after all, that next to the Scripture poems, there are none so savoury to me as Mr. George Herbert's. I know that Cowley and others far excel Herbert in wit and accurate composure; but, as Seneca takes with me above all his contemporaries, because he speaketh things by words, feelingly and seriously, like a man that is past jest, so Herbert speaks to God, like a man that really believeth in God, and whose business in the world is most with God—heart-work and heaven-work make up his books."[445] Thus it was that under diverse forms of polity and worship holy chords in those two hearts vibrated in unison with each other.

Hammond.

Dr. Hammond's piety, elsewhere illustrated in this work, is largely extolled by his biographer.[446] His devotional habits, which were characteristic of the age, are particularly recorded. "As soon as he was ready (which was usually early), he prayed in his chamber with his servant, in a peculiar form composed for that purpose; after this he retired to his own more secret devotions in his closet. Betwixt ten and eleven in the morning, he had a solemn intercession in reference to the national calamities; to this, after a little distance, succeeded the morning office of the Church, which he particularly desired to perform in his own person, and would by no means accept the ease of having it read by any other. In the afternoon he had another hour of private prayer, which on Sundays he enlarged, and so religiously observed, that if any necessary business or charity had diverted him at the usual time, he repaired his soul at the cost of his body; and, notwithstanding the injunctions of his physicians, which in other cases he was careful to obey, spent the suppertime therein. About five o'clock the solemn private prayers for the nation, and the evening service of the Church returned. At bed-time his private prayers closed the day; and, after all, even the night was not without its office, the 51st Psalm being his designed midnight entertainment."

Thomas Fuller, already so often noticed, had nothing of the poetical pensiveness of Herbert, nothing of that unearthly tone of thought which was so real in the Salisbury canon, nothing either of the High Churchmanship of Dr. Hammond, yet he cordially loved the Church of England. Moderate, orthodox, and Catholic, he allowed to others the liberty which he claimed for himself, whilst he bewailed the divisions of the times in which he lived, not as many did, because he wanted all to think like him, but because he saw that men would not peaceably allow one another to exercise the right of private judgment. The piety of Fuller was that of thorough conscientiousness, so well expressed by himself when he told the Triers "he could appeal to the Searcher of Hearts that he made a conscience of his very thoughts." With his conscientiousness—which really seemed to cover the whole field of evangelical and practical religion—there was associated the faculty of wit, which gave even to his religion a character of humour. In his book on the Holy State, he says of the "Faithful minister," "he will not use a light comparison to make thereof a grave application, for fear lest his poison go further than his antidote"; but, he himself adds, "that fork must have strong tines wherewith one would thrust out nature." In that very chapter, animadverting on affected gravity, he remarks: "when one shall use the preface of a mile to bring in a furlong of matter, set his face and speech in a frame—and to make men believe it is some precious liquor, their words come out drop by drop—such men's vizards do sometimes fall from them not without the laughter of the beholders. One was called 'gravity,' for his affected solemnness, who, afterwards, being catched in a light prank, was ever after, to the day of his death, called 'gravity-levity.'" Fuller could not help being humorous. He could not tell the most mournful story without enlivening it with some sort of sally; but religion so influenced him that he never indulged in ill-natured satire—never raised a blister on the skin by the touch of a scorching sarcasm. With such a temperament, added to unfeigned piety and unfeigned benevolence, "it was as natural that he should be full of good-tempered mirth as it is for the grasshopper to chirp, or the bee to hum, or the birds to warble in the spring breeze and the bright sunshine. His very physiognomy was an index to his natural character. As described by his contemporaries, he had light flaxen hair, bright blue and laughing eyes, a frank and open visage."[447] And if any one will take the trouble to compare the portraits of Herbert and Fuller, he must confess that Herbert's gravity would look as foolish in the face of Fuller, as Fuller's archness would be most unseemly, if it could be forced on Herbert's sedate countenance.

Dalston.

The character of Sir George Dalston, as given by Jeremy Taylor in richly coloured words, deserves to be included in any portrait gallery of his contemporaries. "He was indeed a great lover of, and had a great regard for, God's ministers, ever remembering the words of God: 'Keep my rest, and reverence my priests'; he honoured the calling in all, but he loved and revered the persons of such who were conscientious keepers of their 'depositum—that trust' which was committed to them; such which did not for interest quit their conscience, and did not, to preserve some parts of their revenue, quit some portions of their religion. He knew that what was true in 1639 was also true in 1644, and so to '57, and shall continue true to eternal ages; and they that change their persuasions, by force or interest, did neither behave well nor ill, upon competent and just grounds; they are not just, though they happen on the right side. Hope of gain did by chance teach them well, and fear of loss abuses them directly. He pitied the persecuted; and never would take part with persecutors; he prayed for his prince, and served him in what he could; he loved God, and loved the Church; he was a lover of his country's liberties, and yet an observer of the laws of his king....

"And now, having divested himself of all objections, and his conversation with the world, quitting his affections to it, he wholly gave himself to religion and devotion; he awakened early, and would presently be entertained with reading; when he rose, still he would be read to, and hear some of the Psalms of David; and, excepting only what time he took for the necessities of his life and health, all the rest he gave to prayer, reading, and meditation, save only that he did not neglect, nor rudely entertain, the visits and kind offices of his neighbours. But in this great vacation from the world he espied his advantages; he knew well, according to that saying of the Emperor Charles V.—'Oportet inter vitæ negotia et diem mortis spatium aliquod intercedere;' there ought to be a valley between two such mountains, the businesses of our life and the troubles of our death; and he stayed not till the noise of the bridegroom's coming did awaken and affright him; but, by daily prayers twice a day, constantly with his family, besides the piety and devotion of his own retirements, by a monthly communion, by weekly sermons, and by the religion of every day, he stood in precincts, ready with oil in his lamp, watching till his Lord should call."[448]

Quarles.

The poet Quarles—whose quaint emblems symbolize not only the quaintness of his piety, but the quaintness of much besides belonging to his age—suffered as a Royalist and an Episcopalian; and indeed his death appears to have been hastened by the persecution which he suffered. The hues of his religious experience are best conveyed by preserving the phraseology of his devoted widow.[449] "He expressed great sorrow for his sins, and when it was told him that his friends conceived he did thereby much harm to himself, he answered: 'They were not his friends that would not give him leave to be penitent.' His exhortations to his friends that came to visit him were most divine; wishing them to have a care of the expense of their time, and every day to call themselves to an account, that so when they came to their bed of sickness, they might lie upon it with a rejoicing heart. And, doubtless, such an one was his, insomuch that he thanked God that whereas he might justly have expected that his conscience should look him in the face like a lion, it rather looked upon him like a lamb; and that God had forgiven him his sins, and that night sealed him his pardon; and many other heavenly expressions to the like effect. I might here add what blessed advice he gave to me in particular, still to trust in God, whose promise is to provide for the widow and the fatherless, &c. But this is already imprinted on my heart, and therefore I shall not need here again to insert it."

Lord Montague may be cited as a specimen of old English piety, apart from strong ecclesiastical opinions on either side. "Many 'characters' have been drawn of this stout cavalier. The sum of them all amounts to this, namely that he was an honest, truthful, and pious man, an example to his fellow-parishioners by constant attendance at sermons on Sundays, and at lectures on week days. So long as the truth was preached old Montague cared not who preached it; and his own chaplain had no sinecure of it in his house, where that reverend official, on Sunday afternoons, assembled the servants, and put them through their catechism. The household was a godly one, though a certain depictor of it says, rather equivocally, that 'the rudest of his servants feared to be known to him to be a drunkard, a swearer, or any such lewd liver, for he cast such out of his service.' This would imply that there was an assumption of virtue, by which the good lord may have been deceived; but his serving men and maids are emphatically chronicled as being a credit and a comfort to him."[450]

Sir B. Grenville.

In the heart of the Royalist camp, and amidst bloodshed on the battle field, there had been—notwithstanding the prevalent profanity and licentiousness of the Cavaliers—some strong stirrings of spiritual life in the hearts of English gentlemen, worthy of that name, of which a memorial exists in a letter written by John Trelawne, to the Lady Grace, announcing the death of her honoured lord, Sir Bevill Grenville.

"Honourable Lady,—How can I contain myself or longer conceal my sorrow for the death of that excellent man, your most dear husband and my noble friend. Be pleased with your wisdom to consider of the events of the war, which is seldom or never constant, but as full of mutability as hazard. And seeing it hath pleased God to take him from your ladyship, yet this may something appease your great flux of tears, that he died an honourable death, which all his enemies will envy, fighting with invincible valour and loyalty the battle of his God, his King, and country. A greater honour than this no man living can enjoy. But God hath called him unto Himself to crown him (I doubt not) with immortal glory for his noble constancy in this blessed cause. It is too true (most noble lady) that God hath made you drink of a bitter cup, yet, if you please to submit unto his Divine will and pleasure by kissing His rod patiently, God (no doubt) hath a staff of consolation for to comfort you in this great affliction and trial. He will wipe your eyes, dry up the flowing spring of your tears, and make your bed easy, and by your patience overcome God's justice by His returning mercy. Madam, he is gone his journey but a little before us. We must march after when it shall please God, for your ladyship knows that none fall without His providence, which is as great in the thickest shower of bullets as in the bed. I beseech you (dear lady) to pardon this my trouble and boldness, and the God of heaven bless you and comfort you, and all my noble cousins in this your great visitation, which shall be the unfeigned prayers of him that is, most noble Lady,

"Your Ladyship's hon. and humble servant,

"John Trelawne.[451]

"Trelawne, 20th July, 1643."

And when the wars were over, and peace had been established, and the usurper whom they feared was sitting upon the throne, many a Royalist lady and gentleman would think of their past sorrow and cherish their hopes of a celestial future in the tone and spirit of this beautiful epistle.

John Evelyn's Son.

A touching instance of early piety occurred in the family of John Evelyn, described by the bereaved father in the following terms: "Illuminations, far exceeding his age and experience, considering the prettiness of his address and behaviour, cannot but leave impressions in me at the memory of him. When one told him how many days a Quaker had fasted, he replied that was no wonder, for Christ had said that man should not live by bread alone, but by the Word of God. He would of himself select the most pathetic psalms, and chapters out of Job to read to his maid during his sickness, telling her, when she pitied him, that all God's children must suffer affliction. He declaimed against the vanities of the world before he had seen any. Often he would desire those who came to see him to pray by him, and a year before he fell sick, to kneel and pray with him alone in some corner. How thankfully would he receive admonition! how soon be reconciled! how indifferent, yet continually cheerful! He would give grave advice to his brother John, bear with his impertinences, and say he was but a child. If he heard of or saw any new thing he was unquiet till he was told how it was made; he brought to us all such difficulties as he found in books, to be expounded. He had learned by heart divers sentences in Latin and Greek, which, on occasion, he would produce even to wonder. He was all life, all prettiness, far from morose, sullen, or childish, in anything he said or did. The last time he had been at church (which was at Greenwich), I asked him, according to custom, what he remembered of the sermon; 'Two good things, father,' said he, 'bonum gratiæ, and bonum gloriæ!' with a just account of what the preacher said. The day before he died he called to me, and in a more serious manner than usual told me that for all I loved him so dearly, I should give my house, land, and all my fine things to his brother Jack, he should have none of them; and, the next morning, when he found himself ill, and that I persuaded him to keep his hands in bed, he demanded whether he might pray to God with his hands unjoined; and a little after, whilst in great agony, whether he should not offend God by using His holy name so often calling for ease. What shall I say of his frequent pathetical ejaculations uttered of himself: 'Sweet Jesus, save me, deliver me, pardon my sins, let Thine angels receive me!' So early knowledge, so much piety and perfection! But thus God, having dressed up a saint fit for Himself, would not longer permit him with us, unworthy of the future fruits of this incomparable hopeful blossom. Such a child I never saw; for such a child I bless God, in whose bosom he is! May I and mine become as this little child, who now follows the child Jesus, that Lamb of God, in a white robe, whithersoever He goes; even so, Lord Jesus, fiat voluntas tua! Thou gavest him to us, Thou hast taken him from us, blessed be the name of the Lord! That I had anything acceptable to Thee was from Thy grace alone, seeing from me he had nothing but sin, but that Thou hast pardoned! Blessed be my God for ever. Amen."[452]

We have already presented several examples of eminent piety in the lives of Puritan clergymen. To these may be added one more in a passage from a sermon preached by John Howe on the death of "that faithful and laborious servant of Christ, Mr. Richard Fairclough."[453]

"The bent of his soul was towards God; I never knew any man under the more constant governing power of religion, which made it to be his business both to exercise and diffuse it to his uttermost; he was a mighty lover of God and men, and being of a lively, active spirit, that love was his facile, potent mover to the doing even of all the good that could be thought in an ordinary way, possible to him, and more than was possible to most other men. To give a true succinct account of the complexion of his soul—he was even made up of life and love. Such was the clearness and sincerity of his spirit, his constant uprightness and integrity, so little darkened by an evil conscience—and indeed little ever clouded with melancholy fumes—that he seemed to live in the constant sense of God's favour and acceptance, and had nothing to do but to serve Him with his might; when his spirit was formed to an habitual cheerfulness and seemed to feel within itself a continual calm. So undisturbed a serenity hath, to my observation, rarely been discernible in any man; nor was his a dull sluggish peace, but vital and joyous; seldom hath that been more exemplified in any man. 'To be spiritually minded is life and peace.' Seldom have any lived more under the government of that kingdom, which stands in 'righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.' His reverence of the Divine Majesty was most profound, his thoughts of God high and great, that seemed totally to have composed him to adoration and even made him live a worshipping life; he was not wont to speak to God, or of Him, at a vulgar rate; he was most absolutely resigned and given up to Him; devotedness to His interest, acquiescence in His wisdom and will, were not mere precepts with him, but habits. No man could be more deeply concerned about the affairs of religion and God's interest in the world; yet his solicitude was tempered with that steadfast trust, that it might be seen the acknowledged verities of God's governing the world, superintending and ordering all human affairs by wise and steady counsel and almighty power—which in most others are but faint notions—were with him turned into, living sense and vital principles which governed his soul! Whereupon his great reverence of the Majesty of God, falling into a conjunction with an assured trust and sense of His love and goodness, made that rare and happy temperament with him, which I cannot better express than by a pleasant seriousness. What friend of his did ever, at the first congress, see his face but with a grave smile? When unexpectedly and by surprise he came in among his familiar friends, it seemed as if he had blessed the room; as if a new soul or some good genius were come among them."

Lamot.

Puritan gentlemen manifested in their own way virtues of a kind similar to those which adorned their Anglican neighbours. The biographer of Alderman John Lamot, who died in 1655, eulogizes the "holy carriage of his youth," his industry, thanksgiving, prudence, integrity, zeal, charity, sympathy, bounty, and patience. Mention is made especially of his religious duties—he was a member and elder of the Dutch Church—of his devoutly attending public lectures, and of his reading the Holy Scriptures in private. Every year, upon the 17th of November, he made a feast to commemorate the end of Queen Mary's persecution, and the commencement of Queen Elizabeth's reign. Upon these occasions he would deliver a hearty Protestant speech, and bless God for the quenching of the Smithfield fires. At other times he invited friends "to eat bread with him before the Lord, as Jethro and Moses did," when, with singular fulness—for his memory is called a living library—he traced those Divine deliverances which had been wrought out for the Church in England and in the Netherlands, ending his conversation, as it regards the latter, with the words: "Their case might have been ours, and who knows but it may yet be?"[454]

Sir Nathaniel Barnardston may be mentioned as a person of the same order. The time of his conversion is specified, and the foundation of his faith is recorded by his biographer; who also draws a full length portrait of him as a man and a magistrate—and as belonging both to his own family and to God's Church. He rarely met his pastor but they prayed together. "His tongue dropped honey, and his breath was as sweet and fragrant as the roses in spring." He sanctified the Sabbath, and diligently attended the preaching of the word. He prepared for the sacrament, and loved the Christian ministry—and fasted and prayed before exercising his right as a patron of Church livings, and sought to draw his neighbours to a religious life. He also celebrated, like the London alderman we have just mentioned, "The thrice happy day of Elizabeth's inauguration," and forgot not the Fifth of November, and the gunpowder treason, which last plot he was wont to pronounce "black as hell."

He welcomed "the messenger of death, when it drew near. He did not then, according to the usual method of most, seem shy and averse to be gone, as if so be he were not ready, but was heartily ready; for as soon as ever there appeared on his side a small swelling in which none but himself conceived any danger, he being then at Hackney, did send fifty miles for Mr. Fairclough, his minister, to discourse with him; and taking him to walk with him, presently fell into conference of the worth and immortality of the soul, of the manner of its subsistence and actings when it was separated, of the joys of the other world, and the vanity and emptiness of all things in this, as being most suitable to his present condition, and herewith he was so deeply and spiritually affected, that at their parting he expressed himself in the following manner to Mr. Fairclough:[455]—'Sir, I now much wonder that any man that fully believes these things to be realities, and not mere notions (being in my condition) should be unwilling to die. For my own part, I will not be so flattered with any carnal content as to be desirous to live longer in this world, where there is little hope left that the Lord hath any more work or service for me to do, except it be to suffer for keeping a good conscience, in witnessing against the apostasies and impieties of the times; and now it is a great favour of God to be sent for speedily.' After this, he being removed to London for greater conveniency of physicians, he there made the same profession of his desire to be dissolved and be with Christ, unto several friends and visitors."[456]

Choice examples of Christian character abound in the lives of the women of that day.

Lady Carbary.

Again we refer to the pages of Jeremy Taylor, and extract the following passage from his sketch of the character of Lady Carbary:[457]—"In all her religion, and in all her actions of relations towards God, she had a strange evenness and untroubled passage, sliding toward her ocean of God and of infinity, with a certain and silent motion. So have I seen a river, deep and smooth, passing with a still foot and a sober face, and paying to the 'fiscus,' the great 'exchequer' of the sea, and prince of all the watery bodies, a tribute large and full; and hard by it, a little brook skipping and making a noise upon its unequal and neighbour bottom; and after all its talking and bragged motion, it paid to its common audit no more than the revenues of a little cloud, or a contemptible vessel; so have I sometimes compared the issues of her religion to the solemnities and famed outsides of another's piety. It dwelt upon her spirit, and was incorporated with the periodical work of every day. She did not believe that religion was intended to minister to fame and reputation, but to pardon of sins, to the pleasure of God, and the salvation of souls. For religion is like the breath of heaven; if it goes abroad into the open air, it scatters and dissolves like camphire; but if it enters into a secret hollowness, into a close conveyance, it is strong and mighty, and comes forth with vigour and great effect at the other end, at the other side of this life, in the days of death and judgment."

Lady Harley.

The Countess of Suffolk, a friend of Richard Baxter, and an admirer of George Herbert, affords another example of deep devotion, not strongly marked by any "denominational" peculiarities—although she one day locked herself up in her closet to write down from memory a sermon she heard from a "grave prelate." On the other hand, Lady Harley must have been a Puritan to the backbone; for in the memoir of her, she appears rejoicing greatly at the meeting of the Long Parliament, approving of the execution of Lord Strafford, and saying, in a letter to her son Edward—who accompanied his father to town, when he took his seat in the House of Commons—"I believe that the hierarchy must go down, and I hope now." "I am glad that the Bishops begin to fall, and I hope it will be with them as it was with Haman—when he began to fall, he fell indeed." The order of the two Houses for removing the relics of idolatry delighted her ladyship exceedingly, and with deep joy she communicated to her son, that the table in Hereford Cathedral had been turned, and that the copes and basins, and all such vestiges of Popery, had been put away. When the war broke out, she evinced no little zeal in the business of raising money for the Parliament, and sent her family plate to the military chest. When battle raged around the walls of her own castle, this Puritan Amazon manifested a masculine courage, and in her letters gave thanks to her son "for the hamper with powder and match"—whilst she waited for "the muskets"—and stated that she had sent to Worcester for fifty weight of shot. She met with opposition in all sorts of ways. The Royalists would not pay their rents; they would not let the fowler bring her any fowls; they arrested her servants; they drove away her horses; and they threatened to burn down her barns. The Marquis of Hertford came to besiege her fortress. Stories were told of 600 men marching up to her gates. Under these threatening circumstances she declared: "If I had money to buy corn and meal and malt, I should hope to hold out, but then I have three shires against me." When the assault came at last, and she heard that her cook was shot with a poisoned bullet, and that the waters of the village brook were poisoned also, this English Deborah, this Puritan mother in Israel, trusting entirely in Divine help, retained the confidence she had before expressed, "I thank God I am not afraid. It is the Lord's cause that we have stood for, and I trust, though our iniquities testify against us, yet the Lord will work for His own name's sake, and that He will now shew the men of the world that it is hard fighting against heaven."[458]

She died before the close of the siege, and the Puritan minister of Clun, in Shropshire—who preached her funeral sermon—observed: "When the naked sword, that messenger of death, walked the land, did God set His seal of safety upon her. Though surrounded with drums and noise of war, yet she took her leave in peace."

We read, also, of Mrs. Margaret Andrews, who was constant in prayers three times a day, spending two hours in her closet in the coldest winter, and who rarely passed an hour without retiring from company, stealing away that she might look towards heaven: of Lady Alice Lucy, of Charlcot—one of the Shakespeare Lucys—who made it her first employment every morning to address Almighty God in secret, and to read some portions of the Divine Word, and who also delighted in sacred literature, storing her memory with passages from favourite English authors: and of Lady Mary Houghton, who spent the earlier and later hours of the day in communion with God, and had books for contemplation, and books for conversation, and books for devotion, and who spent the rest of her time in needle-work, with her maidens sitting round about her, or in visiting the cottages of the neighbouring poor.

Lady Courten.

Lady Catherine Courten is another celebrity, who, having lost her fortune—a calamity she bore with Christian fortitude—spent the last and the retired season of her life with her noble sister, Lady Francis Hobart, at Chapel Field House, in the city of Norwich. She never neglected sermons; and when, on account of illness, she was unable to walk down stairs, she would be carried by her servants to the place of worship. Her habit of reading is also particularly noticed, and the few hours which she spent out of her closet were usually filled up with discourses tending to edification. Nor was she ever more in her element than when by debate with others, she was investigating some truth for the information of her judgment, or for the guidance of her practice. With her may be coupled Lady Francis Hobart, the wife of Sir John Hobart, of Blickling, in Norfolk; like the former lady, a particular friend of Dr. Collinge's, who observes:—"It was in September, 1646, that I was invited by Sir John Hobart (at that time alive) to take my chamber in his house whilst I discharged my ministerial office in the county (Norwich), and to take some oversight of his family in the things of God." The family had been without any spiritual guide, and in a state of religious disorder, and the chaplain's design was to bring it into a course of prayer, in conformity, as he said, to David's pattern. He held services morning, evening, and at noon, reading some portion of Scripture every day, and expounding it as the time would allow. He catechised once a week, and accustomed the members of the household to repeat the sermons which they had heard on the Lord's Day, and at other public ordinances. The servants were required to attend these duties every morning at seven o'clock. The catechising was made easy by the parents prevailing upon their pious daughter to set an example by first herself answering the questions which were proposed by the minister. A chapel was fitted up in the house, and a lecture was preached every Lord's Day.[459]

The religious convictions of the reader must create a preference for some above others of the characters which we have described; yet, if we would be loyal to Christian charity and righteousness, we must judge all these individuals in no narrow spirit, but bring to bear upon our conclusions respecting them a careful study of the differences which exist in the ages, in the sects, in the minds, and in the morals of ancient and of modern Christendom.

Ages of Christendom.

The ages of the Church, down to the era of the Commonwealth, exhibit a series of ecclesiastical and theological revolutions running along through an extended line of generations which, under altering circumstances, still exhibit ever the same spiritual life. Primitive simplicity—when uninspired men accepted the authoritative teaching of apostles as a religion rather than a theology, and had but an imperfect apprehension of the profound truths of the New Testament, was succeeded by sundry innovations of doctrine and practice, drawn from sources which were open and active all around them in the Jewish and Pagan world, or from others which were hidden in the very depths of human nature. The true and the false soon became blended together, sometimes in very unequal proportions; and hence sprung Nicene developments, of doctrine touching certain vital points, associated, however, with certain metaphysical refinements and with certain forms of polity and of worship, which prepared for subsequent manifestations of despotism and of superstition. Traditionalism for a time stereotyped both that which was bad and that which was good in the sixth and the seventh centuries, and then afterwards came limited but violent reactions against authority in several different quarters, opening up paths which ultimately led to the Protestant Reformation. That Reformation followed as the result of applying the New Testament to human creeds, and canons, and formularies. In their sifting of opinions and practices, the Reformers sought to separate the wheat from the chaff; but when the first excitement of the Ecclesiastical Revolution had passed away, some persons thought that a measure of wheat had been cast away along with the chaff; and others again believed that the process had terminated too soon—that the sieve had been laid aside before all the requisite sifting work had been done, and that a good deal of chaff remained mixed with wheat. Such ideas, on the one hand and on the other, constituted the groundwork of Anglo-Catholic and of Puritan piety. Anglo-Catholicism, under James, arose as a reaction against Puritan Protestantism under Elizabeth. That Anglo-Catholicism led to a more violent Puritan reaction under Charles I. Hence followed the antagonism of parties, at that time of immense excitement, in connexion with the influences of early training, of associations in life, of different kinds of pulpit teaching, and of varied idiosyncracies of mental character. Not only did parties widely differ, but each regarded the other as an enemy. They fought as for life—and certainly the subjects of contention were not trifles. Scarcely could it be expected that on either side there would be an unprejudiced estimate of what was thought, said, and done on the other.

Moreover, as in every age some peculiar type of piety is found to prevail, whether it be Primitive, or Nicene, or Mediæval, or Reformed; so, during the English Commonwealth, influence flowing from the past and mingling with the present, washed thoughts and habits into form and hue so as to give to all religious parties a somewhat similar appearance not to be overlooked. Much time was spent by all pious persons in retirement, in reading, in meditation, and in prayer. Piety was active as well as contemplative, but the contemplative side was most apparent: the mind dwelt much upon memories of the past, the Nicene age being the background of thought in the one case, and the age of the Reformation in the other; whilst over the whole religion of the day there rested the solemn shadows of an ascetic spirituality. Moreover, there pertained to Anglicans and Puritans in common a singularly strong conviction of the absolute reality of spiritual and eternal things. They could truly say "we walk by faith, not by sight"—in contrast with so many religionists in our own time whose views are entirely walled in by objects of sense, and who walk by sight, not by faith. Our fathers of the seventeenth century "tasted the good Word of God and the powers of the world to come." They lived "on the sides of eternity," and their souls breathed a bracing air which came from the goodly land and the "Lebanon afar off." Visiting the sick and the poor, and managing some hospital for boys, or for old men and women, constituted the usual methods of beneficence in those times, inasmuch as Bible Societies, Missions, and Sunday-schools, were institutions then unknown.

Together with the difference between one age of Christendom and another, we must consider the differences between sect and sect. It is only fair for the historian to apply the term sect to any party exhibiting avowed symbols; whether found existing within the same Episcopal Church, as were all Anglo-Catholics and some of the Puritans—or existing outside, as was the case with Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists. Each division appears marked by the strength and the weakness of all such bodies. Each had a concentrated power of attack and of defence. Each was strong in its polemical attitude and action: each was powerful against the other. The weakness lay—as is ever the case—in defective self-culture, and in an imperfect extent of teaching within its own borders. Sectarianism is always one-sided. It seizes on certain points and magnifies them beyond all rules of proportion. Other parts of Divine truth and other portions of human nature suffer from neglect.

Idiosyncrasies.

And again, the idiosyncrasies of individuals must be taken into account, since they always powerfully contribute to produce varieties of spiritual life. John Milton and John Owen were both Christians, both devout, both unceremonial, both advocating a wide liberty of conscience, both averse to Prelacy, and to all Presbyterian domination, both entertaining in general the same views of government, political and ecclesiastical; yet how unlike in many other respects! The one exhibiting in his religion the genius of a poet, the other the genius of a systematic theologian; the one soaring with outstretched wings into the loftiest regions of Divine contemplation, the other measuring every opinion by the standard of a remorseless logic, based upon Scripture; the one inspired with classic taste, chiselling the products of his intellect into forms of beauty, comparable to those of Phidias in the art of sculpture; the other careless respecting artistic style, and flinging out the treasures of his affluent mind after a fashion which is most excruciating to the æsthetical of this generation; the one a man of imagination, the other a man of reason; the one a Homer, the other an Aristotle amongst Puritans. And as they differed in their manner of thinking, so also they differed in their modes of feeling and in their habits of life; the religious sentiments of Milton being calm and pure, with something in their tone almost approaching to angelic elevation, bearing scarcely any marks of such struggles as beset most other Christians, and suggesting the idea that his chief conflicts of soul must have been with "spiritual wickedness in high places;" Owen, on the other hand, dwelling much upon "the mortification of sin in believers," "the doctrine of justification," "the work of the Holy Spirit in prayer," and "the Glory of Christ," and ever indicating the strongest faith and the intensest feeling upon those evangelical points respecting which some defect may be traced in the religion of Milton; and whilst Milton was solitary in his devotion, at least during the latter part of his life, and in this respect, as in others, was "like a star and dwelt apart," Owen delighted in social worship.

No reader who has any fixed theological opinions can examine the Church systems of that age without feeling sympathy with some one of them, mingled with disapprobation in reference to the rest. The theologian is constrained to take a side as he studies this deeply-exciting history. A passionless neutrality is absolutely impossible. At the same time, a student is chargeable with injustice who does not carefully strive to ascertain the defects of his own party; and he also is wanting in charity if he be not ever ready to acknowledge the moral and spiritual excellencies of persons, whose opinions were different from those which he himself entertains. When all modifying influences have been conscientiously analyzed by the catholic-hearted reader of ecclesiastical history, he will rejoice in believing that the centre of Christian life is not in creeds, polities, and forms, but in One Divine Redeemer; and that Herbert and Fuller, Hammond and Baxter, Taylor and Howe, and the whole company of faithful souls, a few of whose names have occurred in these volumes, were looking to one and the same Christ for holiness and peace.

Pictures are drawn of the religion and morals of the Commonwealth mostly of two kinds; rose-coloured, glowing with brightest tints; or dark and gloomy, crossed with still deeper shades. Spiritual prosperity and little else is to be seen in the first; hypocrisy and vice alone are visible in the second. Party spirit is betrayed in each of these styles of historical, or rather fictitious art; yet neither serves its object. For, if there was so much prosperity as is sometimes represented, how superficial, how slightly-rooted it must have been, seeing the Restoration of Charles II. swept it almost all away; and if there was so much of hypocrisy and vice as some declare, it is but just to ask them, who were the chief hypocrites but the people who afterwards threw off the mask? Who must have been the most vicious in secret but those who sinned so very openly when restraint was gone? The fact is, that neither extreme receives support from a calm review of facts.

State of Religion.

The materials for forming a judgment of the actual state of religion during the Civil Wars and the Commonwealth are manifold. Attention should be directed first to the general accounts of the times which have been handed down to us by contemporaries. Isaak Walton, in his "Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson," declares that "the common people were amazed and grown giddy by the many falsehoods and misapplications of truth frequently vented in sermons, when they wrested the Scripture, by challenging God to be of their party, and called upon Him in their prayers to patronize their sacrilege and zealous frenzies." He also complains of honesty and plain dealing being exchanged for cruelty and cunning, and of the encouragement given to perjury by the violation of one oath through the taking of another. He says that Sanderson lamented much that "in many parishes where the maintenance was not great there was no minister to officiate; and that many of the best sequestered livings were possessed with such rigid Covenanters as denied the sacrament to their parishioners unless upon such conditions, and in such a manner, as they could not take it."[460]

Baxter, however, remarks: "If any shall demand whether the increase of godliness was answerable in all places to what I have mentioned (and none deny that it was with us) I answer, that however men that measure godliness by their gain, and interest, and domination, do go about to persuade the world that godliness then went down, and was almost extinguished, I must bear this faithful witness to those times, that as far as I was acquainted, where before there was one godly profitable preacher, there was then six or ten; and, taking one place with another, I conjecture there is a proportionable increase of truly godly people, not counting heretics, or perfidious rebels, or Church disturbers, as such. But this increase of godliness was not in all places alike; for in some places, where the ministers were formal, or ignorant, or weak and imprudent, contentious or negligent, the parishes were as bad as heretofore. And in some places, where the ministers had excellent parts and holy lives, and thirsted after the good of souls, and wholly devoted themselves, their time, and strength, and estates thereunto, and thought no pains or cost too much, there abundance were converted to serious godliness. And with those of a middle state, usually they had a hidden measure of success. And I must add this to the true information of posterity, that God did so wonderfully bless the labours of His unanimous faithful ministers, that had it not been for the faction of the Prelatists on one side, that drew men off, and the factions of the giddy and turbulent sectaries on the other side (who pulled down all government, cried down the ministers, and broke all into confusion, and made the people at their wits' end, not knowing what religion to be of), together with some laziness and selfishness in many of the ministry, I say, had it not been for these impediments, England had been like, in a quarter of an age, to have become a land of saints, and a pattern of holiness to all the world, and the unmatchable paradise of the earth. Never were such fair opportunities to sanctify a nation lost and trodden under foot as have been in this land of late! Woe be to them that were the causes of it."[461]

Testimonies.

The honesty of Isaak Walton is undoubted; yet no one who has read his charming biographies will regard him as free from prejudice in his opinion of the Puritans. But Baxter—though strongly opposed to the course of things after the Restoration, and one who may be regarded as a party man—yet kept himself singularly free from party ties during the Commonwealth; for, whilst he was an enemy to the sectaries, he also exercised the privilege of criticising the Presbyterians. On that account, considerable impartiality must be admitted as characterizing his report; and indeed the discriminating tone of his remarks indicates how carefully he strove to avoid exaggeration and to do justice on all sides.[462]

Next to general statements, we ought to consider the particular results of the Puritan ministry as recorded at the time. Turning to Baxter's account of Kidderminster, and to the life of Wilson at Maidstone (specimens of both have been largely copied in former pages), we discover ample proofs of religious prosperity according to the Puritan type, and much which all Christians, whatever be their opinions, must admire. In Lancashire the Presbyterian system was rather fully carried out, with what success has been described. Certainly, the failure of Presbyterian discipline in London is manifest.

Proceeding to consult biographies, we find that the lives of Hammond, Sanderson, and Bull, bear witness to Episcopalian devotion and constancy under oppression; and on referring to "Clarke's Lives," and other memoirs of the same class, we are made acquainted with a large number of godly Puritans who were living in the days of Oliver Cromwell.

Complaints.

Over against these records of individual excellence, however, must be placed appeals in contemporary sermons, and also treatises, which teem with rebukes and reproof, such as imply very unfavourable impressions of the general religious character of the times. Farindon, in one of his discourses, exclaims: "The Church mourneth, her very face is disfigured. Religion mourneth, being trod underfoot, and only her name held up to keep her down." "Have ye no regard, all ye that pass by the way, to see a troubled State, a disordered Church moulded into sects, and crumbled into conventicles, religion enslaved and dragged to vile offices, true devotion spit at, and hypocrisy crowned, common honesty almost become a reproach, and the upright moral man condemned to hell."[463] Farindon, however, it must be remembered, was a son of the Episcopal Church of England, stung with grief for his mother's sad humiliation; and although he owed something to those who allowed him to preach, and who restored him to his pastoral charge, still he could scarcely avoid regarding with some prejudice what was going on around him. Not only do Episcopal authors speak unfavourably of the times, but Presbyterian and Independents do the same. Dr. Annesley, in a sermon preached at St. Paul's, in the year 1655, thus addressed his congregation:—"When you stood upon lower ground did you not think magistrates might do more than they did? Do you now do what you then thought? If you say you have performed the commandment of the Lord, a bystander will perhaps reply: What mean, then, the blasphemous swearing, the roaring drunkenness, the common whoredoms, the rambling Sabbath breakings, &c.? may these sons of Belial plead liberty of conscience? If you cannot reach those that pull the crown from the head of Christ in way of spirital wickedness, pray hold their hands that would stab the heart of Christ by moral wickedness."[464]

The language of Dr. Owen is very strong. "Whilst all the issues of providential dispensations in reference to the public concernments of these nations are perplexed and entangled, the footsteps of God lying in the deep, where His paths are not known; whilst in particular, unparalleled distresses, and strange prosperities are measured out to men, yea to professors; whilst a spirit of error, giddiness, and delusion goes forth with such strength and efficacy, as it seems to have received a commission to go and prosper; whilst there are such divisions, strifes, emulations, attended with such evil surmises, wrath, and revenge, found amongst brethren; whilst the desperate issues and products of men's temptations are seen daily in partial and total apostasy, in the decay of love, the overthrow of faith, our days being filled with fearful examples of backsliding, such as former ages never knew; whilst there is a visible declension from reformation seizing upon the professing party of these nations, both as to personal holiness, and zeal for the interest of Christ."[465]

In all honesty, we feel bound to give these extracts; but we would remind the reader that passages of this order require qualification. No one can accept literally, and as a whole, what Cyprian wrote about the moral condition of the Church at Carthage; or what Chrysostom declared, or implied, respecting the people of Constantinople; or what Salvian testified relative to Roman society; or what Luther said of Germany; or what Melancthon wrote of the dissensions of the Reformers;[466] or what Becon reported of English morality in Edward the Sixth's reign;[467] or what preachers uttered relative to the state of religion in the times of Queen Elizabeth.[468] We instinctively make some allowance for the impetuosity of indignation betrayed by honest men as they warned their contemporaries. Their strong language, and the respectful manner in which it was listened to, indicated that amidst the existence of the worst evils there also existed what was infinitely different. The words of English authors at the Puritan epoch must be dealt with in a discriminating spirit, such as guides us in the interpretation of Greek and Latin teachers in patristic times, and German and English preachers at the epoch of the Reformation.

Theology.

Further, the theology of the period should be carefully studied. None of its varieties; none of its excellencies; none of its defects should be overlooked. We ought impartially to aim at finding out exactly what High Churchmen taught, and as a just result, give them credit for catholic orthodoxy, for calm devotion, and for ethical appeals in their writings; and not merely condemn them for what was legal and ritualistic, and for what was ascetic and superstitious in their views and ways. With equal impartiality, also, ought we to survey the doctrinal literature of the Puritan school in its different departments, as found in the works of Presbyterians, Independents, Baptists, and Quakers; marking well the prominence generally assigned in them to the redemption which was wrought by the Lord Jesus Christ, to the work of the Holy Spirit, and to the enforcement of moral duties by motives which had been drawn from the Gospel. And with corresponding fidelity it becomes us to note the narrow conceptions of the atonement, and the high views of predestination which appear in some cases; and also the too minute and metaphysical distinctions common in a large number of Puritan productions; together with the want of sympathy which they indicate with forms of sentiment differing from their own. Habits of theological thinking both expressed and shaped the religious character and experience of the times.

Putting together all these materials for forming an opinion of the spiritual condition of the people during the period embraced in this work, we should say, that what was true of one place might not be true of another; that in cities and larger towns many of the middle classes became sincere Presbyterians and Independents, whilst in small towns and villages Royalism lingered, associated with a strong attachment to Episcopacy; that in both Puritan and Anglican instances, eminent piety existed by the side of hypocrisy and immorality; and that amidst a great deal of formalism, superficial religion, and mere external morality, there flourished a large amount of vital godliness; that spirituality of feeling might be often found apart from wisdom, and coupled with unhealthy excitement; that Puritans were intensely anti-ritualistic, hating "pontifician fooleries," and joining to "hiss them out of the Church"[469]—their English common sense, as well as the spiritual perception of the genius of the Gospel, causing them to revolt from the absurdities of "Catholic" ceremonials; that Anglicans themselves, by the time the Civil Wars were over, had learned a salutary lesson, and were weaned somewhat from the follies of Archbishop Laud, and under the Protectorate passed through a discipline which made them somewhat wiser at the Restoration, in reference to the pomp of worship than they had been twenty years before; that a large proportion of true Christians were then, as ever, of the common mediocre type, described as neither white, nor red, but "good brown ochre;" that the furnace of affliction purified the Episcopal part of the Church from some of the dross which had largely alloyed it at a previous period, and brought out the piety and patience of its confessors in beautiful colours whilst the temporal prosperity of Puritanism proved rather unfavourable to its spiritual character; and that, on the whole, there was a broader surface, and a richer depth of genuine piety during the period we have reviewed, than was the case just before or just afterwards.

Theology.

Nor can it be doubted that England then could bear comparison with other countries at the same time. For on the Continent, in Roman Catholic lands, though some of the worst ecclesiastical abuses had been reformed, and the morals of the clergy had improved, and the Inquisition had been checked, yet the chief activities of religious thought, and the main business of education, had fallen almost entirely into the hands of Jesuits. From the orthodoxy of Protestant kingdoms and states there had been brushed off very much of the dew of its youth. The Lutheran and Reformed Churches of Germany had lost their "first love," and had become much more the conservators of a cold, dogmatic Christianity than the warm-hearted disciples of the Living Word. They kept their eyes open for the detection of heterodoxy, and they assailed one another sharply for slight deviations from certain standards which had been handed down by their fathers, but they had declined in spirituality and devotion.[470] They guarded the stones of the altar, but they let the fire die down to a few red ashes. Theological learning abounded, pastoral diligence of a certain description extensively obtained, but Evangelical fervour had declined, and the revival of piety under Spener did not commence until after the Restoration in England had taken place. The religion of the Commonwealth found scarcely a parallel at that time in Europe.[471]

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