CHAPTER XVIII.
The History which we are tracing in these pages resolves itself into a grand epic without any literary skill on the part of the historian. Commencing, as it does, with the opening of the Long Parliament, and ending with the death of Oliver Cromwell—it exhibits the Episcopal Church of England in the midst of its ancient grandeur on the very eve of its downfall; it indicates the causes of that catastrophe; it describes a new ecclesiastical system, which was immediately contrived to occupy the place of its predecessor; and it then unfolds another and a very simple scheme of religious instruction which was established, and superseded, in fact, the elaborate theory of the Westminster Divines. Soon after the opening of our story one character appeared, destined before long to be the commanding figure on the stage of events. Although Cromwell had only taken part with many others in effecting the overthrow of the Anglican Establishment, he, perhaps, of all the actors in those stirring times, most effectually contributed to prevent the full practical development of the Presbyterian polity in England; and most certainly to his genius and determination we must attribute the origin and defence of that unique ecclesiastical system which, during the Protectorate, constituted the Church of England.[563] Really the moral offspring of a revolution which overthrew despotic power, and asserted the right of man to freedom, Oliver was the most absolute ruler which this country ever saw; and in this respect it is obvious and easy to run a parallel between him and the first, if not the second, Napoleon. The cause of such a political phenomenon has been indicated. It is no strange thing. The world has witnessed it over and over again. But, in Cromwell's case, there was what in the case of the first Napoleon there was not;—what alas! amongst the masters of mankind has ever been too rare—a deep, strong, invincible faith in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Not from policy, not as a piece of statecraft, but from a spiritual insight, and as a Christian duty—from love to the souls of men, and with a desire to advance the glory of God—did the Protector watch and foster, protect and promote, the interests of religion. As he was really the temporal head of that new Church, if such it may be termed; as he was the Defender of its Faith, as its existence was bound up with his authority, and as when he died its fate was sealed—the circumstances connected with the close of his eventful life, and the religious character of his last days, require to be related, in order that something approaching to completeness may be given to this imperfect work. With the death of Cromwell we wind up our history for the present.
Cromwell at Hampton Court.
Hampton Court—which, with its manifold memories, has within the last few years become more familiar than ever to the people of this country—was the residence of his Highness in the month of July, 1658. In one of the chambers of Wolsey's Palace—of which palace three of the noblest courts were afterwards pulled down to make room for the buildings erected by William III.—the Lady Elizabeth Claypole, Cromwell's daughter, lay on her death-bed. As the rays of the summer sun, and the fragrance of the summer flowers, and the music of the summer birds entered the open window, Oliver watched with tender assiduity the declining health of his beloved child. For a fortnight he scarcely attended to public business; but day after day he sat bending over her dying pillow, engaged in earnest conversation with the sufferer, "though nobody was near enough to hear the particulars."[564] She expired on the 6th of August. Her father had himself been unwell for some days: although he enjoyed a strong constitution, the wear and tear of war and toil had left their impression, and amidst the suspense and anxiety of parental love—and only those who have actually, like Cromwell, passed through such circumstances, can fully understand their effect upon mind and body—some seeds of disease, already sown, began to appear. He had an attack of gout, and, being impatient of restraint, he requested his physicians to subdue the local affection. Disease soon appeared in other parts of the system, and for some days the Protector's illness assumed an alarming appearance.[565]
Cromwell at Hampton Court.
Whilst remaining at Hampton Court, and only a few days after his daughter's death, "he called for his Bible,[566] and desired an honourable and godly person there (with others) present to read to him Philippians iv. 11-13:—'Not that I speak in respect of want, for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I am instructed, both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things, through Christ which strengtheneth me.' Which read, said he, to use his own words:[567]—'This Scripture did once save my life; when my eldest son died, which went as a dagger to my heart, indeed it did.' And then, repeating the words of the text himself, declared his then thoughts to this purpose, reading the tenth and eleventh verses of Paul's contentation, and submission to the will of God in all conditions (said he), 'Tis true, Paul, you have learned this, and attained to this measure of grace; but what shall I do? Ah, poor creature, it is a hard lesson for me to take out! I find it so!' But reading on to the thirteenth verse, where Paul saith, 'I can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth me'—then faith began to work, and his heart to find support and comfort, and he said thus to himself: 'He that was Paul's Christ is my Christ too,' and so drew waters out of the wells of salvation, Christ in the Covenant of Grace."
1658.
It was about this time that the famous interview between Oliver Cromwell and George Fox took place. The Quaker had shortly before sent a letter to Lady Claypole, written in a very characteristic manner, and beautifully exhorting her to "stillness, staidness, and quietness,"—that she might "know the shadow of the Almighty, and sit under it, in all tempests and storms and heats," and that she might feel the power of an endless life, which brings the immortal soul up to the immortal God.[568] And now one day, Fox, taking boat on the Thames at Westminster, was rowed up to Kingston, and from thence he went to Hampton Court, to speak with the Protector touching the sufferings of Friends. "I met him," says the journalist, "riding into Hampton Court Park, and before I came to him, as he rode at the head of his Life Guard, I saw and felt a waft (or apparition) of death go forth against him, and when I came to him, he looked like a dead man. After I had laid the sufferings of Friends before him, and had warned him, according as I was moved to speak to him, he bid me come to his house. So I returned to Kingston, and the next day went up to Hampton Court to speak further with him. But when I came he was sick, and Harvey, who was one that waited on him, told me the doctors were not willing I should speak with him. So I passed away, and never saw him more."[569]
Last Days in Whitehall.
Cromwell was unwilling to leave the old country palace, with its pleasant park and gardens, but on the day of Lady Claypole's funeral at Westminster Abbey—the 10th of August—he came to Whitehall, only, however, to return speedily to his favourite retreat. On the 21st he was seized with a severe fit of ague, after which, as Hampton Court Palace was, in the judgment of the physicians, too near the river for the recovery of their patient; he, following their advice, returned to the palace at Whitehall, intending to take up his abode at St. James's, that regal residence of the Stuarts being at a greater distance from the water.
No dangerous symptoms appeared for a week, but Secretary Thurloe felt much apprehension respecting the condition of his Highness, and observed, in a letter to the Lord Deputy of Ireland: "It cannot but greatly affect us all towards God, and make us deeply sensible how much our dependence is upon Him, in whose hands is the life and breath of this His old servant; and if He should take him away from amongst us, how terrible a blow it would be to all the good people of the land; and that, therefore, we should be careful how we walk towards God, lest we provoke Him to depart from us, and bring upon us this great evil. The people of God here pray much for his recovery, and I hope those in Ireland will do the same, and to have his life spared and his strength restored by prayer, is a great addition to the mercy."[570]
1658.
Cromwell did not believe himself in danger; and even after he took to his bed, he said to his wife: "I shall not die this bout, I am sure of it." "Do not think," addressing the physicians, "I am mad, I speak the words of truth upon surer grounds than Galen or Hippocrates. God Almighty has given me that answer, not only to my prayers but to those who have closer intimacy with Him than I. Proceed cheerfully, banishing all sadness, and dealing with me as you would with a serving man. You may have skill in the things of nature, but nature can do more than physicians can, and God is above even nature itself."[571]
The Protector's hopes of recovery were unfounded. His enthusiastic idea of particular faith in prayer misled him; but a better faith, happily, mingled itself with his characteristic infirmity. He had no fear of death;[572] and there is no reason to believe that his mind had undergone any change respecting spiritual confidence in Christ, since he wrote the following lines, in the year 1652, to his son-in-law, General Fleetwood:—
"Salute your dear wife from me. Bid her beware of a bondage spirit. Fear is the natural issue of such a spirit—the antidote is love. The voice of fear is: If I had done this, if I had avoided that, how well it had been with me! I know this hath been her vain reasoning; 'poor Biddy!'
"Love argueth in this wise: What a Christ have I; what a Father in and through Him! What a name hath my Father: Merciful, gracious, long-suffering, abundant in goodness and truth; forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin. What a nature hath my Father: He is love; free in it, unchangeable, infinite! What a covenant between Him and Christ—for all the seed, for every one; wherein He undertakes all, and the poor soul nothing. The new covenant is grace—to or upon the soul; to which it, 'the soul,' is passive and receptive: I'll do away their sins; I'll write my law, &c.; I'll put it in their hearts: they shall never depart from me, &c.
"This commends the love of God: it's Christ dying for men without strength, for men whilst sinners, whilst enemies. And shall we seek for the root of our comforts within us—what God hath done, what He is to us in Christ, 'this' is the root of our comfort: in this is stability; in us is weakness. Acts of obedience are not perfect, and therefore yield not perfect grace. Faith, as an act, yields it not; but 'only' as it carries us into Him, who is our perfect rest and peace; in whom we are accounted of, and received by, the Father—even as Christ Himself! This is our high calling. Rest we here, and here only."
Habit of Prayer.
Cromwell's habit of prayer was continued throughout his life; and upon this subject strong testimony is borne by the person to whom we are indebted for the only authentic narrative of his last days. "Indeed, prayer, (as one calls it,) was his daily exercise, which he never neglected, notwithstanding all his weighty affairs; yea, the more weighty and urgent they were, the more he buckled to it, and sometimes with such fervour of spirit that he could not contain himself, but with great breakings of heart send up strong cries with tears unto God, heard when he hath not known any to be near him; so that it may be truly said of him, that, as he was a man (Abraham-like) strong in faith, so (like Jacob) mighty in prayer, and as a prince prevailing with God; such as, indeed, in all respects, this nation was never blest with to sit on the throne; however he was judged, and censured, and lightly set by, by many who were not sensible of our and their mercy, and who yet in time may be sensible (if God prevent not) of his remove, where his prayers are turned into everlasting praises."
1658.
Before Cromwell's illness, arrangements had been made for summoning, by State authority, an assembly in London of Congregational Elders. Scobell, clerk of the Council of State, issued a notice, in the month of June, to such Elders as were resident in the metropolis, to meet at the Charter House; and both his name and the name of Griffith, who acted as minister of that charitable foundation, appear in a correspondence upon the subject of the conference carried on with ministers of several Churches in England and Wales.[573] A political sanction was thus given to the assembly; indeed it was convened by the authority of the Government: and the result appeared in a published Declaration of Faith and Order by the convention of delegates, who met in the palace of the Savoy after the death of the Protector. That convention, and the important document which it produced, come not within the space of time presented by this volume, but the preparations for it do: and those preparations, upon which very much obscurity rests, are connected with the final days and the last cares of Oliver's life. The desire for the meeting originated with the Independents, not with the Protector. He had shewn no favour towards a previous committee for defining theological boundaries of toleration; and he seems to have regarded with nothing like complacency, this new proposal for an authorized Synod of Congregational Divines to declare the principles of their faith and polity. Also there were persons about the Court who disliked it, from a fear lest it should separate more broadly than before, the Independents from the Presbyterians. His Highness, however, conceded the request for the sake of peace; and if he had lived to witness the issue, he would have found nothing in the Declaration, published by the ministers at the Savoy, to clash with those sentiments of catholic charity which were so dear to his heart. There might, however, be political intrigues in the background of this movement, for which the pastors of Churches were in no way responsible; and these might occasion anxiety to the dying ruler of England, who is reported to have said just before his death, to some who were opposed to the meeting and wished to prevent it, that its projectors must be satisfied,—"they must be satisfied, or we shall all run back into blood again."[574]
Chaplains.
John Howe remained at Whitehall until after Cromwell's death, and his name appears amongst the chaplains who attended his funeral. No record, however, appears of his having been called to the bedside of the dying man—an omission which we lament, because the combined wisdom and tenderness of that eminent Divine and Pastor, in case of his having had an opportunity of performing his Christian ministrations in those solemn moments, would have afforded a guarantee for faithfulness and affection, in any counsels which he might have offered. Stories are told to the discredit of the chaplains who were known to be in attendance. It is said that one of them, when asked by Cromwell, "if it were possible to fall from grace," replied, "it is not possible." "Then," said the sufferer, "I am safe, for I know that I was once in grace." To leave any one in the last hours of life open to such a delusion, as the bald reply attributed to this spiritual adviser might seem to encourage, would be without excuse; but the story rests on no sufficient foundation.[575]
1658.
Whatever common rumour might relate, the domestic letters and the dying words of Cromwell attest the sincerity of his spiritual experience. It seems impossible that any human being could so successfully have worn the mask of hypocrisy in the privacies of life and in the moment of death. Of all hypotheses for explaining his character, the most monstrous is to set him down as playing the part of a wilful deceiver in his professions of religion. As if anticipating the uncharitable judgments of posterity, he had written to Fleetwood, in the year 1653: "I am in my temptation ready to say, 'Oh, that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest;' but this I fear is my 'haste.' I bless the Lord I have somewhat keeps me alive—some sparks of the light of His countenance; and some sincerity above man's judgment."[576] Nobody who has studied human nature can believe this passage to be a piece of clever affectation; he will rather pronounce it the unfeigned utterance of a thoughtful soul. And if ever an experience of the real Puritan type was luminously and honestly uttered, it was in the words which Oliver employed on his death-bed, according to a testimony on which we can rely.[577]
Last Words.
"The Covenants," said the dying man, "they were two—two, but put into one before the foundation of the world." "It is holy and true, it is holy and true, it is holy and true! Who made it holy and true? Who kept it holy and true? The Mediator of the Covenant." "The Covenant is but one. Faith in the Covenant is my only support, yet if I believe not, He abides faithful." Enquiries and ejaculations were caught up at intervals, "Is there none that will come and praise God." "Whatsoever sins thou hast, doest, or shalt commit, if you lay hold upon free grace, you are safe, but if you put yourself under a Covenant of works, you bring yourself under the law, and so under the curse—then you are gone."[578] "Is there none that says, Who will deliver me from the peril?" "Man can do nothing, but God can do what He will." "Lord, Thou knowest, if I desire to live, it is to shew forth Thy praise, and declare Thy works. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God." This was spoken three times, his repetitions usually being very weighty, and with great vehemency of spirit. "All the promises of God are in Him yea, and in Him, Amen; to the glory of God by us, by us in Jesus Christ." "The Lord hath filled me with as much assurance of His pardon, and His love, as my soul can hold." "I think I am the poorest wretch that lives; but I love God, or rather, am beloved of God." "Herein is love, not that we love God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins." "I am a conqueror, and more than a conqueror, through Christ that strengthened me." "Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us." "My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever." "And now, little children, abide in him; that, when he shall appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before him at his coming. If ye know that he is righteous, ye know that every one that doeth righteousness is born of him." "Little children, let no man deceive you, he that doeth righteousness is righteous, even as he is righteous." "My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth." "Little children, keep yourselves from idols." "Love not the world, I say unto you it is not good that you should love the world."[579] "Children, live like Christians, and I leave you the Covenant to feed upon." "Truly God is good; indeed He is, He will not—" There his speech failed him, but as I apprehended it was: "He will not leave me." This saying that God was good, he frequently used all along, and would speak it with much cheerfulness and fervour of spirit in the midst of his pains. Again, he said: "I would be willing to live to be further serviceable to God and His people; but my work is done. Yet God will be with His people." He was very restless most part of the night, speaking often to himself. And there being something to drink offered him, he was desired to take the same, and endeavour to sleep, unto which he answered: "It is not my design to drink or sleep; but my design is, to make what haste I can to be gone."[580] Afterwards, towards morning using divers holy expressions, implying much inward consolation and peace; among the rest he spake some exceeding self-debasing words, annihilating and judging himself. And truly it was observed, that a public spirit to God's cause did breathe in him (as in his life time) so now to the very last, which will further appear by that prayer he put up to God two or three days before his end, which was as followeth: "Lord, although I am a miserable and wretched creature, I am in covenant with Thee through grace, and I may, I will, come to Thee, for Thy people. Thou hast made me (though very unworthy) a mean instrument to do them some good, and Thee service; and many of them have set too high a value upon me, though others wish and would be glad of my death; but, Lord, however Thou dost dispose of me, continue and go on to do good for them. Give them consistency of judgment, one heart, and mutual love: and go on to deliver them, and with the work of reformation; and make the name of Christ glorious in the world. Teach those who look too much upon Thy instruments, to depend more upon Thyself. Pardon such as desire to trample upon the dust of a poor worm, for they are Thy people too. And pardon the folly of this short prayer. Even for Jesus Christ's sake. And give us a good night, if it be Thy pleasure. Amen."[581]
Death.
Oliver died on the 3rd of September, "it having been to him," says the Court Newspaper announcing his death, "a day of triumphs and thanksgiving for the memorable victories of Dunbar and Worcester; a day which after so many strange revolutions of Providence, high contradictions, and wicked conspiracies of unreasonable men, he lived once again to see, and then to die, with great assurances and serenity of mind, peaceably in his bed. Thus it hath proved to him to be a day of triumph indeed, there being much of Providence in it, that after so glorious crowns of victory placed on his head by God on this day, having neglected an earthly crown, he should now go to receive the crown of everlasting life."[582]
The passages we have cited have an interest beyond their bearing upon the Protector's character. They are specimens of the domestic and social piety of the age. Letters like his in tone and spirit, varying in intellectual conception and style of language, passed in those days by thousands over the rough roads of broad England in the pocket of some friendly traveller or in the postman's bag. So fathers and mothers, and parents and children, and brothers and sisters, wrote to one another, feeling every word they wrote—living under a deep apprehension of those higher bonds which unite souls to souls, families to families, Churches to Churches, and all to God and Christ. Hopes and fears, and joys and sorrows, such as the Protector expressed, although utterly unreal to multitudes of their neighbours, were experienced by many a man and woman in those times, and were to them as real as the everlasting hills or the unchanging stars.
1658.
The ruler, in mortal agony,[583] by his faith and prayers, presents a luminous contrast to another death-scene at Whitehall, a few years afterwards, when a different spirit passed away amidst symbols of popish superstition, the accessories of an abandoned Court, and the memories of a sensual life. But, beyond that contrast, and apart from all circumstances of royal splendour; dismissing from our minds images of the quaint magnificence of the sick chamber in Whitehall, with its, perhaps, tapestried walls and bed of damask hangings, and the figures of generals, chaplains, and state servants, clustering round the form wasted by disease, and the countenance growing pale in death; putting aside, also, the memory of the marvellous career of the departing soldier and statesman of the Commonwealth—we meet in Cromwell's last words with an expression of the inmost soul of many a Puritan in such dark nights, doing battle with the last enemy. Nor, perhaps in the sorrows of his beloved family, and the sympathies of brother generals, and the intercessions of attached chaplains, was there more of religious affection than gathered about other pilgrims at that era, whilst at last they were laying down all life's heavy burdens at once and for ever. Such sentiments were often heard, such consolations were often imparted, and such prayers, whatever of infirmity there might be clinging to them, often went up to the throne of grace: but on account of Oliver's high position, and the vast interests which depended on his life, there would be in his case additional grounds for earnestness and the inspiration of a much wider sympathy. Thurloe wrote to the Protector's son Henry, when all was over, "that never was there any man so prayed for as he was during sickness; solemn assemblies meeting every day to beseech the Lord for the continuance of his life, so that he is gone to heaven embalmed with the tears of his people and upon the wings of the prayers of the saints."[584] And in these impassioned supplications we can see even now the reflection of a devout temper then very common; and in the parish congregations, and the church gatherings of that day, may be recognized the interest felt in the life of one who was the pillar of their strength, and the shield of their freedom.
