CHAPTER XIII.
No Sunday in England ever exactly resembled that which fell on the 17th of August, 1662—one week before the feast of St. Bartholomew. There have been "mourning, lamentation, and woe," in particular parish churches when death, persecution, or some other cause has broken pastoral ties, and severed from loving congregations, their spiritual guides; but for many hundreds of ministers on the same day to be uttering farewells is an unparalleled circumstance. In after years, Puritan fathers and mothers related to their children the story of assembled crowds; of aisles, standing-places, and stairs, filled to suffocation; of people clinging to open windows like swarms of bees; of overflowing throngs in churchyards and streets; of deep silence or stifled sobs, as the flock gazed on the shepherd—"sorrowing most of all that they should see his face no more."
1662.
Pepys—who liked to see and hear everything which was going on—walked to old St. Dunstan's Church, at seven o'clock in the morning, but found the doors unopened. He took a turn in the Temple Gardens until eight, when, on coming back to the church, he saw people crowding in at a side door, and found the edifice half-filled, ere the principal entrance had been opened. Dr. Bates, minister of the church, took for his text— "Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect." "He making a very good sermon," reports the Secretary, "and very little reflections in it to anything of the times." After dinner, the gossip went to St. Dunstan's again, to hear a second sermon from the same preacher upon the same text. Arriving at the church, about one o'clock, he found it thronged, and had to stand during the whole of the service. Not until the close of this second homily, did the preacher make any distinct allusion to his ejectment, and then it was in terms the most concise and temporate. "I know you expect I should say something as to my nonconformity. I shall only say thus much—it is neither fancy, faction, nor humour, that makes me not to comply, but merely for fear of offending God. And if after the best means used for my illumination, as prayer to God, discourse, study, I am not able to be satisfied concerning the lawfulness of what is required; if it be my unhappiness to be in error, surely men will have no reason to be angry with me in this world, and I hope God will pardon me in the next."[369]
Dr. Jacomb occupied his pulpit in St. Martin's, Ludgate. It would seem, from his remarks, that he did not expect it to be the last pastoral discourse he would deliver; but I am unable to say whether the hope he had of preaching to his parishioners again, arose from an idea that the law would be mitigated. "Let me," he said, "require this of you, to pass a charitable interpretation upon our laying down the exercise of our ministry." "I censure none that differ from me, as though they displease God: but yet, as to myself, should I do thus and thus, I should certainly violate the peace of my own conscience, and offend God, which I must not do, no, not to secure my ministry; though that either is, or ought to be dearer to me than my very life; and how dear it is, God only knoweth."[370]
THE BARTHOLOMEW EJECTMENT.
In the Cambridge University Library[371] is the copy of A Prayer of a Nonconformist before his Sermon, which was preached to an eminent Congregation, August, 1662. The prayer is long, and consists chiefly of confession of sin and of supplication for spiritual blessings; the only passages which seem to refer to existing circumstances are the two following:—"It is the Spirit that makes ordinances efficacious—although Thou art pleased to tye us to them, when we may purely enjoy them, yet Thou dost not tye Thyself to them." "Bring our hearts to our estates, if not our estates to our hearts. It is the happiness of the saints in heaven to have their estates brought to their hearts; but the happiness of the saints on earth to have their hearts brought to their estates."
1662.
The Fire of London swept away so many of the old City churches that we are unable to picture the localities where the City ministers preached, what they called, their own funeral sermons; but it is otherwise in the provinces. Everyone who has entered the Vale of Taunton, and tarried in the town from which it takes its name, must have lingered under the shadow of the noble Church of St. Mary, and longer still within its spacious nave, sometime since restored with exquisite taste. In 1662 the town had just had its walls razed, as a punishment for what the inhabitants did in the Civil Wars—the bones of their townsman Blake had been dug out of his grave in Westminster Abbey; old Puritan members of the Corporation had been displaced for new ones of Cavalier sympathies; and now, with bitter recollections, the nonconforming parishioners entered the Church on the 17th of August, to listen for the last time to their minister, George Newton—"a noted gospeller," and remarkable for his missionary zeal. "As to the particular Divine providence," he said, "now ending our ministry among you, whatever happeneth on this account, let it be your exercise to cry out for the Holy Spirit of Christ, and He will grant you a greater support than you may expect from any man whatever.... The withdrawing of this present ministry may be to cause you to pray for this Holy Spirit, day and night; and Christ promiseth that the Father will give it to them that ask it.... If I cannot serve God one way, let me not be discouraged, but be more earnest in another."[372]
THE BARTHOLOMEW EJECTMENT.
The quiet little town of Beer Regis, in Dorsetshire, retains its ancient church, with its square tower and pinnacles, dedicated to St. John the Baptist. The living, in conjunction with that of Charmouth, formed the golden prebend of Salisbury Cathedral. How much of the income of the stall belonged to the Incumbent under the Commonwealth I do not know, but the Incumbency must have been of a description strongly to tempt Philip Lamb, who then held it, to comply with the Act of Uniformity, had he been a worldly-minded man.[373] But his farewell teaching proves him to have been above the reach of such temptations. Like other discourses at the same time, his was full of spiritual instruction and earnest appeal; the following allusion being made to the event of the day:—"For now I must tell you, that perhaps you may not see my face, or hear my voice anymore in this place; yet not out of any peevish humour, or disaffection to the present authority of the kingdom (I call God and man to witness this day), it being my own practice and counsel to you all, to fear God and honour the King;—but rather a real dissatisfaction in some particulars imposed, to which (notwithstanding all endeavours to that purpose) my conscience cannot yet be espoused."[374]
The week between the 17th and 24th of August proved an eventful one. Charles had been married in the previous May to Catherine of Braganza; a match which—though formally approved by the Privy Council and by Parliament, because of her dowry, and of the possession of Tangier, on the coast of Africa, and of Bombay, in the East Indies, and of a free trade with Portugal and its colonies—was, because of the religion of the bride, hateful to the English people, in proportion as they hated Popery. The day before her reception, the King issued a Proclamation, addressed to the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs of London. He laid "hold of this occasion of public joy, on the first coming of the Queen to the Royal Palace of Westminster, to order the release of Quakers and others, in gaol, in London and Middlesex, for being present at unlawful assemblies, who yet profess all obedience and allegiance; provided they are not indicted for refusing the Oath of Allegiance, nor have been ringleaders nor preachers at their assemblies, hoping thereby to reduce them to a better conformity."[375]
1662.
The Quakers, George Fox and Richard Hubberthorn, had just before addressed the King as "Friend," and sent His Majesty a list of "three thousand one hundred and seventy-three persons" who had suffered for conscience' sake. "There have been also imprisoned in thy name," add these plain-spoken memorialists, "three thousand sixty and eight." "Now this we would have of thee, to set them at liberty that lie in prison, in the names of the Commonwealth, and of the two Protectors, and them that lie in thy own name, for speaking the truth."[376] How far this appeal influenced Charles in his act of grace now performed I cannot say; nor does it appear how clemency towards a despised sect tended to gratify the country at large; which on such an occasion he might naturally wish to do. Perhaps, being fond of exercising a dispensing power, this proceeding might afford some gratification to himself; and as to the selection of objects, he had a liking for Quakers, on account of what he regarded their harmlessness and oddity. He had no fear of their arming themselves against his throne; and to quiz their dress and their speech, seemed to his frivolous taste, a piece of real fun.
On Saturday, the 23rd of August, Catherine reached Whitehall; and the citizens of London, ever prompt in their loyalty on such occasions, gave "a large demonstration of their duty and affection to the King's and Queen's Majesty on the River Thames." The Mercers, the Drapers, the Merchant Taylors, and the Goldsmiths, appeared in stately barges, their pageantry and that of the Lord Mayor outpeering the rest of the brilliant regatta. Music floated from bands on deck, and thundering peals roared from pieces of ordnance on shore. Their Majesties came in an antique-shaped, open vessel, covered with a cupola-like canopy of cloth of gold, supported by Corinthian pillars, wreathed with festoons and garlands of flowers,—the pageant exceeding—as John Evelyn remarked, who was sailing near—all the Venetian Bucentoras, in which, on Ascension Day, the Doge was wont to wed, with a golden ring, the fair Adriatic. The spectacle on the water-highway presented a contrast to the experiences in many parsonages throughout broad England; and it is remarkable, that just then certain persons were engaged in solemnities more in accordance with Nonconformist depression.
THE BARTHOLOMEW EJECTMENT.
Edward Calamy that very Saturday preached a sermon at St. Austin's Church, in London, for Father Ash (the old man who shed tears of joy over Charles' early promises), from the words "The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart; and merciful men are taken away, none considering that the righteous is taken away from the evil to come,"—words befitting the interment of a Puritan patriarch on Bartholomew's eve. Discoursing on his text, the preacher reminded his audience how Methuselah died, a year before the flood; Austin died a little before Hippo was taken; and Luther died just as the wars in Germany were about to begin. He might have added, that Blaise Pascal, who died the preceding Tuesday, August 19th, had been removed just as the agony of the crisis came, in the history of the Port Royalists.[377]
By a further coincidence, the same day on which Ash was buried in London, Edward Bowles, the distinguished Nonconformist, breathed his last in the City of York. He had just been elected Vicar of Leeds—but his Nonconformity would have disqualified him from entering on the benefice, had not his Master called him to a better preferment and a nobler ministry.
1662.
When St. Bartholomew's Day arrived, the Nonconformist clergy who had not before taken leave of their flocks, uttered their farewells. Thomas Lye, Rector of Allhallows, London—whose catechetical lectures had made him very popular with the youthful members of Puritan families—preached twice from the words—"Therefore my brethren, dearly beloved and longed for, my joy and crown, so stand fast in the Lord, my dearly beloved." Lye mentioned in his morning address, that he had been ejected on the 24th of August, 1651, because he would not swear against the King. Now, on the 24th of August, 1662, he was ejected for a very different reason. But he did not repine. "By way of exhortation," said the preacher, "I remember good Jacob when he was come into Egypt, ready to die, calls his children together, and before he dies, he blesseth his children.—O beloved, I have a few blessings for you, and, for God's sake, take them as if they dropt from my lips when dying.—Whatever others think, I am utterly against all irregular ways; I have (I bless the Lord) never had a hand in any change of Government in all my life; I am for prayers, tears, quietness, submission, and meekness, and let God do His work, and that will be best done when He doth it."[378]
THE BARTHOLOMEW EJECTMENT.
Another instance of a second ejectment occurred the same day under different circumstances. Robert Atkins, in the month of September, 1660, had been dismissed from the choir of Exeter Cathedral—the part of the edifice appropriated to the Presbyterians—"Church music," to use his own words, "jostling out the constant preaching of the Word; the minister being obliged to give place to the chorister; and hundreds, yea thousands, to seek where to hear a sermon on the Lord's Day, rather than singing service should be omitted, or not kept up in its ancient splendour and glory." Driven at the Restoration from East Peter's, he found refuge in the parish church of St. John—an instance which shows that nonconforming clergymen might lose one living and gain another, between the King's return and the execution of the Act. From St. John's, he was ejected in August, and then he preached a sermon in which, rising above all such narrowness as prompted the depreciation of cathedral music, he caught ennobling inspirations, and employed only words of loyalty and love. "Let him never be accounted a sound Christian that doth not both fear God and honour the King. I beg that you would not interpret our Nonconformity to be an act of unpeaceableness and disloyalty. We will do anything for His Majesty but sin. We will hazard anything for him but our souls. We hope we could die for him, only we dare not be damned for him. We make no question, however we may be accounted of here, we shall be found loyal and obedient subjects at our appearance before God's tribunal."[379]
1662.
Another day they had to quit the parsonage.[380] No poet that I am aware of, has made the Bartholomew Exodus a theme for his muse, but the well-known lines in Goldsmith's "Deserted Village" may be accommodated to the incident.
"Good heaven! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day,
That call'd them from their native walks away,
When the poor exiles, every pleasure past,
Hung round the bowers, and fondly look'd their last.
With loudest plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And blest the cot where every pleasure rose,
And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly dear;
While her fond husband strove to lend relief,
In all the silent manliness of grief."
Some persons can allow no excuse for Puritans who conformed. Because Nonconformity under the circumstances appears to these persons a plain obligation, they suppose it must have appeared equally plain to everybody entertaining evangelical views like their own. But if we exclude all Puritan Conformists from the benefit of charitable allowance, on the score of temptation; if we dismiss all thought of the medium through which, owing to circumstances, they were likely to contemplate their own case,—then we diminish our estimate of the clear-sighted judgment, the unprejudiced resolves, and the self-sacrificing heroism of those Puritans who in a crisis of extraordinary difficulty, pursued the course they did. When Nonconformists discover considerations which mitigate the censure of some who conformed, they must all the more admire those who, rising above motives which spring from self-interest, from example, from persuasion, and from prejudice, were, through a sense of duty, led to sacrifice so much which they held dear.
THE BARTHOLOMEW EJECTMENT.
The ejected differed from each other in many respects: not more unlike are cedars and firs, oaks and ashes, the elm and the ivy. Some were bold and stern, of rugged nature and robust strength; others were gentle and dependent, relying on friends for counsel and example. Some were rigid and ascetic; others frank and genial. They included Presbyterians, Independents, Baptists, and not a few whom it would be difficult to reduce entirely under any of those denominations; also, Calvinists and Arminians, with other Divines scarcely belonging to either of those schools. As to learning, eloquence, reasoning, and imagination, the men varied; but under all their peculiarities lay a common faith—of no ordinary character, a faith of that rare kind which makes the confessor. They believed in God, in Christ, in truth, in Heaven; and in the controversy which they carried on, they regarded themselves as fighting for a Divine cause. People may think some of these ministers made too much of wearing a surplice, using the sign of the cross, and bowing at the name of Jesus; but such things were considered by them as having a significance beyond themselves. They were, by the ejected, judged to be signs of a corrupted Christianity—the banners of an adverse army—flags of which the importance did not consist in the silk, the crimson, and the gold, but in the import of the emblazoned device. What might seem trifles to others, were in their estimation the marks of a ceremonial, as opposed to a spiritual, of a legal as opposed to an evangelical Christianity. They believed that, in the defence of the Gospel, they were acting as they did. A strong evangelical faith upheld their ecclesiastical opinions, like the everlasting rocks which form the ribs and backbone of this grand old world.
1662.
The Church of England suffered no small loss when she lost such men. So far as extreme Anglo-Catholics on the one hand, and extreme Presbyterians on the other were concerned, union was impossible; but it should be remembered that in the conferences at Worcester House and the Savoy, nothing more was sought by the Puritans than a moderate Episcopacy; and, as already noticed, Baxter declared, that to the best of his knowledge the Presbyterian cause was never spoken for, nor were they ever heard to petition for it at all. There can be no question that there were amongst the ejected many exemplary ministers, who would have been perfectly satisfied with such concessions, as moderate Episcopalians might have conscientiously sanctioned.
The great change having been accomplished, the King commanded directions to be sent to the clergy respecting their preaching. They were forbidden to meddle with matters of State, or to discuss speculative points in theology, but were enjoined to catechize the young, to read the canons, and to promote the observance of the Lord's Day.[381]